skot AT izzlepfaff DOT com
Tuesday, 13 September
My Eyes Have Seen
Nothing momentous happened this weekend, I'm sad to say. We did not get, oh, a free car. Nor did we even get a free pizza. We did not get free anything. God curse this unloving universe, where we don't get free stuff all the time! No, we mostly just sat around on our asses.
Please, Skot! Tell us more about this fantasia of a weekend! Well, all right.
You know, there was one remarkable thing we witnessed, something that changed us both forever, the wife and I. It was . . . it was moving and strange and disturbing . . . it was . . . it was . . .
I need to stop here for a second, because the gods of Fake Dramatic Setups are waving brightly colored semaphores at me. Now, I don't speak semaphore, but those flags are really cute as hell, and I'm pretty sure on of them shows a train going off its tracks, so I'm going to derail here for a minute.
Let's talk about Monday Night Football. Now, this show has been--and I stress here that this judgment is by football fan standards--horrible for some time. It has a long, long history of being monumentally intolerable. Don Meredith singing "Turn Out the Lights." Howard Cosell's singular non-epigrammatic style. Dennis Miller's existence. For a long time, MNF has been a complete embarrassment to a sport whose cultural raison was wobbly to begin with.
And now ABC is losing MNF. And it seems we're all going to pay hard.
Tonight I did my usual: I took a long nap for the first half of the game. This is only sensible; prolonged exposure to Al Michaels and John Madden has been linked to goiters. Unfortunately, then I woke up for halftime. Gone was the eternally (though comforting!) Chris Berman and his unbelievably idiotic commentary. What did I get instead?
A music video with Tim McGraw. Awesome. As if the NFL needed further NASCAR-ization.
I like it!
This or something like it was tied to a disastrous highlight reel, which fortunately omitted any reference to the abominable Seahawks--presumably Mr. McGraw was unable to find any decent cornpone rhyme for "Hasselbeck." And, in fairness, nor can I. The best I can do is "ghastly fuck," but I might be able to get ten bucks or something by selling that to the Damned as a song title.
But MNF wasn't done. Then--then!--they trotted out Jimmy Kimmel for his sage advice on the state of football. Jimmy Kimmel. Great. Because when you're really in a hole, you should definitely trot out the one guy whose big resume entry reads, "Is marginally funnier than Adam Carolla."
I never thought that I would hunger so viscerally for John Madden to lecture me on "How To Take Care of Your Cankles."
But back to the beginning. I promised you horror and amazement. And so:
We tried to watch M. Night Shyamalanabingbang's The Village. (Alternate names for the auteur: MISTER NIGHT! and M.! The Silent Killer and Mahnahmahnah.)
Nobody should ever try and watch this film. We made it about 45 minutes in before giving up. There are some worthy actors who didn't deserve this kind of shit (Sigourney Weaver, William Hurt), and some who richly did (Joaquin Phoenix, Adrien Brody). Mix and match as you see necessary: In my mind, Phoenix deserves to have this kind of drool-derby etched onto his permanent record (did we not all endure Gladiator?), while perhaps Mr. Brody should get a pass: it is a deeply embarrassing performance, but he's new at this sort of thing.
"Welcome to the Land Without Contractions!" I cried, after hearing the billionth tortured line erupt from some unfortunate mouth. "This movie was written by Yoda," said the wife flatly. After forty minutes of this punishment, we turned on Spider-Man 2.
Can you think of any worse condemnation? I mean, apart from turning on Monday Night Football?
Note: Comments are closed on old entries.
I thought his name was M Night Shyamalamadingdong.
Am I the only one that hears the name "M. Night Shamalan" and in the back of their head hears Joe Buck shouting out
Maybe it's just me.....
i hear it as "G'nite, Shamalan"
What's wrong with Spiderman 2? snob.
Great. Now you've riled the Spiderman community. Is no-one safe from your somewhat cutting wit, you beautiful bastard?
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