Tuesday, April 04, 2006

Oh My Blog



The videogame version of The Godfather hit the store shelves and...I just can't muster up the strength for any outrage

Society takes another big dump on a cherished object. So what? As Tony Soprano would say, "Whadda ya gonna do?" It's the way of the world these days. Francis Coppola is extremely upset, but if he had a percentage of the sales, he'd shut his face in a Sicilian minute. Maybe it'll turn a new generation onto the film and that would be a good thing. Or it'll trivialize it into nothingness and a bunch of us old farts can piss and moan about it until our next series of strokes. (Boy, I'm in a good mood today.) Personally, I can't wait for the Super Mario Brothers searching for Rosebud in Citizen Kane-the Game or Ingmar Bergman's The Seventh Seal with First Person Shooter.

How great is it that Sharon Stone's Basic Instinct 2 (or as a local critic calls it N'Stinct) tied at number 10 in the weekend boxoffice standings with the second week of the Larry the Cable Guy movie? Maybe they could pair up for the third part of the N'Stinct trilogy...with Larry the Gynecologist Guy. Git 'er done!

Radio is starting to pick up again, at least a local Portland, Oregon level. After an unceremonious cancelling by the evil Entercom conglomerate, The Rick Emerson Show has returned to the airwaves, now on Johnson 970 AM (KCMD, if it matters). I must admit that I've missed the rantings and ravings of this over-caffeinated tool. While I switched over to NPR for lack of anything interesting at all on the air these days, there definitely was a void left by Emerson and my beloved Don and Mike Show went they went away. My ears (and brain) have been polluted with the horrible world of politics from left and right wing talk show hosts, not to mention the insipid musical formats that exist these days. Emerson may ramble like your best friend's pal from out of town on a three day coke binge, the kind of guy who's well read but filled to the brim with trashy pop culture and pontificates non-stop until someone mercifully tells him to stop. He provides a voice for the geek, the nerd, the reprobate in all of us. Most days I want to slap across the mush and shove Ritalin down his gullet, but the rest of the time, the son of a bitch puts on a very decent show and makes me laugh more often than not. For someone stuck in his car for several hours a day, that's not too shabby and high praise indeed.
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