People give Providence, Rhode Island a hard time because we’re so small. If that were really the case would we be hosting the G.I. Joe Collector’s Conference and the International Beer Festival on the same weekend? Nope. Take that, Olean, New York!
We also tried to get the Cat Fancier’s Association Spring Show this weekend, but those bastards in Lawrenceville, Georgia beat us to that one … again.
In 1985 I had the usual assortment of heroes – Evel Kinevel, late Yankee catcher, Thurman Munson, and Han Solo. But topping them all was Data from The Goonies. What kid doesn’t want oil slick shoes and a grappling hook? Ol’ Data was the uncool James Bond of the Goon Docks. But it was okay, because much like my neighborhood, everyone was uncool; so we all saw the movie about six times.
I’ve got to give it to Senor Spielberg-o; Goonies was a game changer. It had the depressing, small town as prison ascetic of All the Right Moves paired with the opening, big rock sequence from Raiders of the Lost Ark and just enough Scooby Doo to have kept you wondering if One-Eyed Willy, the pirate, was going to jump out. Josh Brolin gets the girl. Sloth love Chunk. Samwise Rudy doesn’t need his inhaler anymore. And The Goonies save their home. Oh yeah, and Corey Feldman, while dressed as Michael Jackson, still gets to kiss Martha Plimpton. The Goon Docks continue to be holy ground for our passed youth.
In fact, my intern, Ben, still regularly eats Baby Ruth’s and dances the Truffle Shuffle (although I’ve made several requests that he not). Try walking into a bar anywhere across this great nation and yell, “Goonies never say ‘die!’” I am pretty certain that someone will buy you a beer … and it will probably be me.
I hate going to the gym in the springtime; it’s always so crowded. We all stare doll-eyed straight ahead while running within our row of treadmills, destined to never reach the horizon just past those televisions. Although it’s packed, I go anyway. I can’t begrudge a single person in the place because I assume they’re there for the same reason as me – you’ve got to train hard if you want to outrun the zombies.
If you think you can just hole up in some stronghold somewhere and wait out the zombpocalypse, you’re skipping an important step. You’ve got to get to that fortified bunker first! Zombies don’t get tired. In fact they’re notorious for wearing down their prey. In his seminal novel, World War Z, author Max Brooks describes zombies as the only society capable of committing to the concept of “total war.” There are no slackers in the zombie community, no naysayers, no one has plans Saturday and can’t show up. These guys are “game on” all day for eternity. That means you better work on your cardio.
Think of zombies as the sharks of the coming Armageddon. They’re not malicious; they just want to eat you. We can all take a lesson from Jaws (pretty much any situation can be solved by careful viewing of Jaws). Hooper tries to explain to the Mayor of Amity Island the realities of sharks, “Mr. Vaughn, what we are dealing with here is a perfect engine, an eating machine. It’s really a miracle of evolution. All this machine does is swim and eat and make little sharks, and that’s all.” Replace “swimming” with “staggering” and you’ve got yourself a summation of zombies.
So the next time your workout routine gets a little stale or you feel unmotivated, do what I do – imagine that zombies are chasing you.
There is a real and definite trend in ordinary citizens donning costumes to protect their communities. We applaud our neighbors’ efforts to make their piece of the world safer. With that said, our Style Watch department has five basic fashion tips for the would-be heroes at large.
SW Tip #1 – Unless you’re in the gym every second you’re not battling injustice, lose the spandex. Professional athletes even look weird in it. It’s unforgiving; and the last thing you want is to be self-conscious while dealing with ninja jewel thieves. Pants are a nice, practical option … maybe a jacket too…
SW Tip #2 – Pick an icon that symbolizes your ideals and work it into your costume. Bank robbers are more likely to be terrified by “Agent Dread” than “Captain Unicorn.” However, if your goal is to bring optimism and a can-do attitude to under privileged pre-teen girls, “Captain Unicorn” might be a good fit. Don’t be afraid to borrow an idea from comics or movies. The people from DC will probably let a little copyright infringement go if you, as Aquaman, just saved the Mayor’s daughter from sharks.
SW Tip #3 – Accessories are useful to the real-world crime fighter. Chances are you’re not invincible, so an array of weapons, tricks, and effects might just save your behind. If you made it out of cardboard, don’t combat evil with it. Conversely, if you carry a sword, someone is going to get stabbed (they won’t let you wear that Mexican wresting mask in prison, Stabicus)!
SW Tip #4 – Wear sensible shoes. Sure, high heels look badass, but try hopping a fence in them. Also, no flippers or bare feet unless you are in immediate proximity to a swimmable body of water.
SW Tip #5 – While there is some debate among Style Watchers about the practicality of capes, we say “go for it;” you’ve obviously got other things to worry about. That being said, if opting for a cape try to avoid, children’s swing sets, doors that shut quickly, propellers of any kind, dogs, and strangulation by villains.
Thank you, citizen-superheroes! We’re serious about the spandex thing though!
“If I could Quantum Leap, you know, travel back within my own lifetime, I’d destroy Spider-Man.”
While drinking beers, my old college buddy, Chin Ho, sometimes has these enigmatic insights into the world around him; I find it’s best just to let him run with it instead of immediately calling him an “idiot.”
“I’m not sure that’s how it works? Did you grow up with Spider Man?”
“Of course I did! I’ve been going to the same comics store for almost thirty years … and let me tell you it’s not easy being geeky. Sometimes I think I should have participated more in Phys Ed. Get a little respect as a man; you know?”
“I don’t think Spidey’s your problem. Maybe it was the Care Bear you kept on your bed for the first year of college?”
“Funshine Bear was a gift from my high school girlfriend, Tiffany Popashot! What did you expect me to do with it?” I know he only got to first base with Tiffany, so he looks away, hoping I won’t bring it up. “Besides, Spider-Man ruined me well before that. As a kid, I kept waiting for a radioactive insect bite, so I’d be good at sports without having to play them. As you grow, that gap between cool kid and dork kid only grows wider and gets filled with, digital watches and X-Files marathons. You wake up and you’re dork adult who is now having Comic Con, nerd holy ground, taken away from him by the cool adults.”
“You have made some lifestyle choices, like learning how to speak elfin, that really tight Green Goblin t-shirt you’re wearing, and the ring-tone that sounds like a Star Trek phaser, but overall you’re pretty well adjusted. Maybe if you Quantum Leaped, instead of destroying my hero, Spider-Man, you could take yourself outside and play some soccer?”
He glanced down at his Skywalker edition Adidas sneakers, then took a long sip of his beer wrapped in a foam coolie with “Greedo Shot First” stenciled on the side. “Yeah, I’m not sure that’s how it works?”
Academy of Television Arts and Sciences is honored to announce the founding of the MacGyver School of Applied Science and Duct Tape. This marks the first new college established at ATAS since the Gosselin College for Early Childhood Development in 2009. The MacGyver boasts an impressively rigorous curriculum that will prepare students for opportunities foiling terrorist plots against the creators of South Park or fixing wobbly table legs at casual dining restaurants.
It joins the ranks of the Highway to Heaven Theological Institute, the School of Hour-Long Psychological Thrillers, our College of Product Placement, and the numerous other programs that make up our revered Academy.
Registration is now open for the following classes:
COURSE PROFESSOR
The MacGyver School of Applied Science and Duct Tape. “Give Me Sufficient Gum, Shoelaces, and Paper Clips and I can Build You a Big Enough Lever to Move the World!”
Ben, my intern was visibly upset about Lost coming to an end. It’s kind of funny, actually. “This is not good! This … is not good! I know they’re gonna let me down. I’ve invested a whole lot of time in this thing and now nobody’s gonna tell me why Walt can kill birds with his mind or give ghost-like advice to people on the island without being dead!” I literally had to have him sit down. “Plus, girls get all ‘Friday night’ after seeing Sawyer sweat for an hour. Now I have to wait for the Olympics to get that kind of predictability!”
Ben was inconsolable, but probably right. He will be disappointed, so will J.J. Abrams. Television never gives us all the answers that we want; how can it? It’s too ongoing and has too many interests involved to be totally consistent.
It was obvious that I wasn’t going to get any free labor out of Ben, unless I fed his mania. So I did what I always do when faced with a dilemma – go drink beers. I took Ben too. And as it turns out Ben’s not the only one with TV issues. There are people out there, drinking beers at 2:30 on a Monday afternoon, who have been harboring television related questions for years. For instance, our bartender (who, herself, was drunk and a dead ringer for Francine Smith, the wife from the cartoon, American Dad) wanted to know why people on TV obey anybody who shouts letters at them, “Get down, CTU!” or “NCIS! We’re coming in!” She then bought us a shot of something that tasted like applesauce.
Over the next several hours we’re are inundated with questions from barflies regarding plot lines, character appearances/disappearance, and loose ends of all sorts. Some of them thought we worked for a network … so that was fun.
“What happened to ALF? Did he ever get back to Melmac?”
“Where did Chuck Cunningham go? One day he’s playing basketball in the driveway, the next Richie and Joanie are on their own, but Fonzie’s living above the garage.”
“Are Zack and Kelly still married? That couldn’t have worked out well; they were only in college. Do you think they graduated?”
But my favorite, by far, was a guy my age, with lopsided sideburns, wearing a Red Sox jersey. It was pretty noisy, but he silenced the entire bar with, “If I have a problem … if no one else can help … if I can find them … can I still hire the A-Team?”
I didn’t offer any resolutions. I just listened; and made Ben write everything down for future reference. But in that drunken din of opinion and paper thin Hollywood conceits, Ben felt his concerns were being heard – like he was in a support group, only with booze instead of coffee. I left him there among his people, still debating with a bowl of pretzels if Sandra, Cliff and Clair’s eldest daughter, was mentioned in the first season of the Cosby Show or if they just wrote her later.
For a long time I made excuses for Cap’n Crunch. I defended him while he sailed to far away lands to steal crunchberries from crunchberry beasts while hypocritically battling pirates who tried to steal from him. I purposely overlooked labor laws although I knew that his ship’s crew was suspiciously comprised of children and dog wearing glasses. I fended off accusations that his eyebrows were the result of some over-priced elective surgery. I rationalized the fact that he hadn’t made admiral yet only because of the political machine to which he wouldn’t yield. I did all of this for the promise that when the Cap’n returned from the sea, all would be righted. That was almost 20 years ago and my trust has yet to be rewarded.
So, now that the horticulturalists at Quaker Oats have domesticated the crunchberry for easier cultivation and the last of the pirate, Jean Lafoote’s, barefoot buccaneers have been imprisoned on the back of cereal boxes, my loyalty has reached its breaking point!
When they speak of this day at some distant point in the future (and they will speak of this day), I hope that it is understood that what I do now brings me no joy; but I can no longer stand by with a sugar-high and a cavity ridden smile. I must be the one to shine the spotlight of truth.
Cap’n Crunch cereal is really pointy and hurts my mouth when I eat it. What could his freakin’ reason be for not addressing such a painfully egregious design flaw?
Out of nowhere, my friend, Billy D. confessed, “Nobody would ever hire me as a superhero because I’m a total jackass! That, and I’d probably wind up getting some useless power anyway, like growing a dorsal fin or making extra snot. ”
He’s right of course; he is a jackass. But also, no one actually gets to pick their superpower. What if you’re a cactus farmer from Arizona who can breathe underwater? That’s a waste. Movies and comics really just focus on people with advantageous super abilities that can be easily translated into either a lucrative crime-fighting or crime generating endeavor.
Without trying, I can count four guys who can stretch, seventeen who are just super strong, and twenty-five who can shoot something dangerous (either energy, fire, ice, or some sort of shockwave) from their hands. Pretty much everyone is flying these days.
Thedailyjim.com would like to know what superpower its readership would choose as most useful for their everyday lives. We are, of course, eliminating “The Big Four.” There will be no FLYING, READING MINDS, INVISIBILITY, or X-RAY VISION. Anything else is fair game though, so power up dorks!
The much blogged about, Billy D., finally gets to speak for himself in this tale of betrayal and revolution that marks his first contribution to our site!
Shame on you, Mayor McCheese! Shame on you! I know you are a puppet to that big, over-hyped clown, Ronald McDonald, but you don’t have to be. For once, grow a pair. Stand up to the broken political system that is the McDonaldland oligarchy. Help me Mayor McCheese! You’re my only hope!
Let me start by saying that I am the guy that still admits to eating McDonald’s. I truly like it. When properly executed, you cannot help but feel satisfied with the fried feast that smells up my car and clothes instantly. Breakfast, lunch, or dinner, I can drive up with a couple of chilled double deuces freshly purchased from the carry out and dismantle a large value meal. I sit in the parking lot consuming a Big Mac, fries and beer thinking how the suckers in the world are getting robbed by over-priced, calorie-packed Panera across the way. Those douche nozzles aren’t even enjoying it.
All is not perfect, though, in Mayor McCheese’s McDonaldland. The consistency and simplicity executed in most McDonald’s product offerings has been tainted by one giant failure – the failure of the Chicken McNugget.
I know most of you grew up in the world infested with chicken fingers, chicken nuggets, chicken strips, even the oddly placed chicken balls. This was sadly not the case years ago. When I was a young lad your only food options were the hotdog/hamburger plate. If you had asked for chicken fingers there was no telling what would arrive.
Then along came Ronald McDonald and his glorious McNugget to change the world. I cannot remember the first time I ate these wonderful fused-chicken pieces. In fact, I think I was so wrapped in ecstasy that my mind is incapable of revisiting this three-minute pleasure window. They moved to the top of my McDonald’s consumption scale. Six piece? Sure I could use a snack. A ten piece? Cool, appetizers. Twenty piece? Simply heaven.
Apparently the clown thought I had flown too close to the sun because one random day all the glory disappeared. One day the clown, with the approval of that putz Mayor McCheese, he changed the McNugget recipe. They played a shell game with us saying they were making them better. They said “Now Made With White Meat,” whatever that meant. I can tell you what they don’t make them with, love. And if that panzy, McCheese ever tasted one, he would have shut it down. Instead he gave in to the clown’s madness. “Sure Ronald, change the McNuggets. I don’t care as long as we get more chicks? Girls? Chicken … in there.”
Sadly, I did not give up after one failed try. I kept firing the ordering gun for these new McNuggets, that alas, always failed in satisfaction. After several years of bad McDonald’s chicken I am a wounded man. Like an addict, I keep going back to relive the crack high of the original golden chicken – going back hoping that, this day, the McNuggets will once again be culinary ecstasy. But now, after several years, I know the dream is dead – knowing that in the end, they took away my food bliss.
So it all falls back on you, McCheese. No food experiment has ever gone this bad for the golden arches, and someone has to pay. The worst part is knowing that McCheese sits on the good McNugget recipe in the McDonaldland safe. My only solace is waiting for the people’s inevitable revolt, during which McCheese will be jailed. People have gone to jail for much less then this taste disaster.
I know that I cannot be held responsible for my actions if I ever met this man. I know this sounds bad, but I wish pain on him. I could not be trusted if I was the prison guard watching Mayor McCheese’s cell in gen pop. I would have no qualms turning my back on a smiling Hamburglar hiding in the Mayor’s cell licking a spoon. See you in Hell McCheese! You’ll know you’re there by the taste of the chicken.
There has been talk for years about the escalating craziness of Japanese television. People get injured on a regular basis, there are a ton of zany costumes, everything happens at lightning pace, and anyone who knows what’s going on can’t stop laughing long enough to explain it to the viewer. All valid statements. Now add [...]
I am a geek. You, our one fan, are a geek. Wear that badge boldly in this Golden Age of Dorkiness! That being said – and with all respect, some people geek out on stuff I forgot even existed!
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Frequent thedailyjim.com contributor, Billy D. called late-night, as he sometimes does. “Duke (I have no idea why he calls me that, but he always does.)! Duke, we’ve got a supervillain problem. Do you think that cat lady thief in New York City and that dude who dresses as Darth Vader to rob banks have the [...]
As evidenced by The Flintstones, guys have always needed a place to get away from the pressures of work and family, to drink a big mug of cactus juice, play a little rocknasta with Sam Slagheap and the boys while plotting the demise of their mothers-in-law. Fred and Barney favored the Loyal Order of Water [...]
“My lack of education didn’t hurt me none, ’cause I can read the writing on the wall” – Paul Simon ‘Kodachrome’
WISE WORDS FROM MOVIES ON THE VALUE OF EDUCATION
“Things sure have changed since we got kicked out of high school.” – Johnny Ramone from ‘Rock ‘n’ Roll High School’
“I’ve been going to this high school for seven and a half years. I’m no dummy.” – Charles De Mar from ‘Better Off Dead’
“Fat, drunk and stupid is no way to go through life, son.” – Dean Vernon Wormer from ‘Animal House’
“Saturday, March 24,1984. Shermer High School, Shermer, Illinois, 60062. Dear Mr. Vernon, We accept the fact that we had to sacrifice a whole Saturday in detention for whatever it was we did wrong. What we did ‘was’ wrong. But we think you’re crazy to make us write an essay telling you who [...]