A Whole Lotta Lumps

Hooooboy, it's (yawn) Oscar-time.

Let me rephrase that.

The Oscars are on tonight. Big fucking deal.

All told, the five films up for Best Picture nomination are about: a female boxer, a weirdo with a plane fetish, Ray Charles, Peter Pan and guys who go wine-tasting. Jesus...are we talking about porno movies or is this year's five-some a legit smattering of the year's "best" films? It's really sad that the only movie I really wanna see is Sideways, mostly because my other half is a Napa wine fan and I've liked Paul Giamatti's stuff for years (his portrayal of Pig Vomit in Howard Stern's Private Parts was kickin'). The Aviator is something I should see on the big screen, but I'm not much of a Leo fan -- he was incredible in What's Eating Gilbert Grape and then suddenly, he's dating Gisele Boooooooooondchen. Bastage. Point being I used to really like the Oscars back when the movies they were awarding not only were worth seeing but were worth watching a tepid telecast showcasing more fake boobs than the Playboy Mansion.

So, needless to say, methinks this year I'll pass.

Perhaps the biggest Oscar side-story this year is that, since not one of these films has grossed over $100 million (combined, this year's five form the lowest aggregate 'popularity' factor -- no one's seen these movies), no one and no movie has anything locked. And as much as I'd like to see Jamie Foxx get some hardware for his mantel, I didn't see Ray. I did see the real Ray Charles in The Blues Brothers, however -- now there's a performance...and for a blind guy, he had great aim with a .32 semi-auto ;-)

The next item on the agenda: police have arrested 59-year-old Kansas resident Dennis Rader on suspicion he is the "BTK" (Bind, Torture, Kill) killer. The BTK killer has been operating since 1974, and essentially had been toying with police since stopping his criminal activity for almost 25 years. Then he suddenly re-emerged and new victims appeared. And the notable part of this story, other than yet another member of the shallow end of the gene pool managed to indelibly ink his place in national infamy, was that his daughter was the person who contacted the police and turned him in. No one knows if he's the actual BTK killer, and authorities are keeping it quiet, other than admitting he bears a 90% match to the BTK killer's DNA. In either case, it's almost indescribable how disgusting this guy is: he makes the Unibomber appear almost gentlemanly. 10 random people, including mostly women and two children, met up with this pile of dogshit on two legs, and were either strangled or stabbed to death. Hopefully the death penalty, and my personal recommendation on the gamble of lengthy appeals (see "shark cage") will be enforced.

A little non-spring cleaning brought about some previously-boxed-up gems on compact disc that I couldn't find anywhere. A band called The Hatters (their CD entitled "Madness Of The Avocado Overlord"), another blues rock artist named Popa Chubby ("Booty And The Beast") and yet another cavalcade of quality discs like Blues Traveler's "Four," the Arc Angels eponymous (and only) release, The Beatles' 1, both volumes of the Harley Davidson Road Songs collection, and a previously-heralded gem by Eric Clapton, "461 Ocean Boulevard." These got ripped, melded into iTunes and into my ears all in the space of a couple hours between paperwork, phone calls, e-mails and conversations with my other half, who remains remarkably patient despite my near-giddiness over re-discovering the little aluminum slices of heaven I had previously boxed up in anticipation of moving. The one negative to all this, of course, is I now have about 38GB of portable tunes, which translates (due to ripping at a high rate: 256 or 320k) to about two straight weeks of music. Considering I have about an hour of travel time to and from work, and maybe another hour of travel time during the work day (to City offices and back to my own office), I need to get crackin' and start listening :-)

Oh, and I also came across a copy of Grand Theft Auto: Vice City, which offers the visceral, vicarious pleasure of running down police officers, screaming in stolen cars through red lights, and driving damaged Vespa scooters all in a place that looks remarkably like Miami. Couple that with all the female characters sporting bikinis and shaking their hips like they've lost all cartilage between their waists and their thighs (think Jennifer Lopez's ass coupled with spina-bifada) and you've got one whopper of a time-waster. The game is sectioned out into "missions," ie assignments you as a dirtbag-de-loox need to accomplish, each within a certain period of time. For the most part, it's beyond hysterical; if I stopped to think how many kids are playing this game and are happily killing police officers, ramming into and stealing random cars, and are swinging hammers at the various pedestrian characters in the game, I'd probably enjoy it less. So for the time being, better to play first and think later.

A terrorist explosion in Tel Aviv several days ago has been linked by the US and Israel to Syria; it's only a matter of time before Syria is heading up the US's Middle East Shit List. Couple that with the recent announcement by Egyptian President Hosni Mubarak that Egypt's upcoming elections will be decidedly more democratic, and you have the dominoes in the Middle East not necessarily falling, but definitely getting switched around a bit. It's still a powder keg, but where will its fuse be in 20 years? Time will tell.

One final note: Caddyshack was on one of the 27 movie channels I have piped into the Chateau Boogie, and it occurred to me that, since Rodney died, half of that movie's top guys -- Rodney, Ted Knight, Chevy Chase and Bill Murray -- are no longer with us. Sort of like The Beatles, what with only Paul and Ringo alive. I'll put my money on Chevy Chase and Ringo as being the last men standing -- adjust your Dead Pool accordingly and at your own risk.