History lesson, part the second, or The One That Got Away.

(Is it still nostalgia if you'd sorta rather forget it happened? I suppose so. Come with me while I eviscerate myself for your pleasure.)

Not too long before I left for Marist, I became good friends with one of the girls at the Stop and Shop I worked at. D.J. was a senior at West Haven High at the same time that I was a senior at N.D., and we would often ride the same bus from school to work. After initially not liking each other because of the whole N.D./West Haven thing(ah, high school rivalry), we gradually became buddies. I didn't really think anything of it at the time, because I was trying to work out my relationship with K.M. and she was in a relationship with some guy... with a mullet and a Camaro. (I know, shocking.)

Anyway, after we graduated from our respective high schools, D.J. suddenly announced to me that she was moving out to Utah to live with her older sister. She'd had a troubled childhood, and moved around a lot, so the move shouldn't have come as a surprise, but I was still a bit shocked. I gave her my address, and didn't really think much of it, as my relationship with K.M. pretty much torched itself in front of my eyes. So it came as a surprise when I came home one afternoon early in August to find a pink envelope in the mailbox. Over the next few weeks, I received a few more letters, 1 page gradually becoming 4. She told me of plans, of things that she thought would get better. I told her about things that happened in the store, about the destruction of my relationship with K.M., and how much I was looking forward to Marist.

Then the letters stopped.

I didn't initially think anything of it. I was busy with classes, getting so drunk at a party the third night there that I passed out(this is the next tale of Muggleton romantic woe, by the way), trying to get onto the Marist radio station, hanging out with my new best friend. Plus, it wasn't like I was emotionally invested in the situation. Was I?

On the last Saturday in September, LDub and I took a school-sponsored bus trip to New York City. Theoretically, we were supposed to be going to the Met and then to South Street Seaport, but as long as we got to our bus at the end of the day, we could do what we wanted. So LDub and I headed down to Greenwich Village for the day. When we got back to Marist, about 10 that night, there was a note on my door. It said "Call D.J. collect when you get in, whatever time."

I walked down the hall to the payphone room and spent the next two and a half hours on the phone with D.J. By the end of the conversation, my head was spinning over the fact that I'd spent all that time on the phone with her, and better, that she was coming back to Connecticut and would be home by the time I came home for Thanksgiving break. I floated back to my dorm room. The next month and a half dragged by, and by the time I left for break, it was clear that I was in pretty far over my head at school.

It didn't help that I had a great group of friends to hang out with, a group of friends that were as completely and utterly geeky as I was. It didn't help that I had nobody standing over me going, "Hey schmuck, study." It especially didn't help that I was spending most of my idle time daydreaming about seeing D.J. when I got home. As a result, I headed home under the weight of the fact that I was most likely failing one class, and probably failing at least one other.

Once home, I decided to forget about the problems waiting for me in Poughkeepsie, and to move forward instead. I set up a Friday night date for us, then went and got myself cleaned up. (Three months away from home and from my barber hadn't been kind to the 'do.) That Friday, I got myself dressed up, stopped at the florist and got some flowers, and then headed over to where D.J. was staying. She came out, and my heart skipped a beat.

Sixteen years later, it's tough to remember exactly where we went for our date. I know we went to see "Harlem Nights", but I don't remember where we ate. But I do remember exactly what she was wearing(blue jeans and a nice pink sweater), how she smelled(like strawberries), and the way she held my hand lightly while we walked into the movie theater. (This is my Bernstein* moment, I think, for the rest of my life. Sixteen years have gone by, and I don't think more then a day or two have gone by where I haven't thought of D.J. or that wonderful night.)

At the end of the evening, we talked about things, and she asked if she could come to Poughkeepsie and see me. We agreed that she would come up the following weekend(which just happened to be my birthday) and then parted company. Despite angling for it, I didn't get a goodnight kiss, which should have been a signal to me. But I was too busy thinking about her coming to Po-town. I went back to school that Sunday, and eagerly awaited the following Friday, when she would make her way to me.

On Friday afternoon, I shanghaied a classmate, J.W., to take the train down to N.Y.C, where we would meet D.J.'s train and ride back to Po-town with us. Unfortunately, D.J. hadn't made the train she was supposed to be on, so J.W. and I had to cool our heels in Grand Central for an hour waiting. Finally, she arrived, and we rode the train back to school. If memory serves, LDub and I took D.J. up to the diner for a late night snack, then for a walk down to the river(short, since it was December), and then we went back and signed her into LDub's room. (Marist had a strict(hah) policy about boys and girls sleeping on separate floors.) D.J. and I stayed up very late talking and having a good time.

Saturday was December 2, which was my birthday as well as J.W.'s. Some of our friends had booked a birthday party for J.W. and I at Grand Slam U.S.A., and I felt bad about leaving D.J. at the dorms, but she insisted I go and have a good time. So we went, and sure enough, we had a good time. Imagine a bunch of 18 year olds acting like little kids in an indoor batting and golf range, and that's about what it was.

That night though, things got heavy. D.J. basically laid out her whole life's story to me, which was full of abuse and problems and all sorts of stuff, but when I tried to comfort her, she got distant and didn't want to talk about it anymore. All at once, it seemed as though everything had come crashing down. Here I was thinking I'd be able to get something going with D.J., and maybe I'd gotten too close too quickly, passing from potential mate to confidante. The next day we didn't talk a lot. I rode the train down to the city with her, kissed her on the cheek and gave her a hug as I put her on the train back to New Haven, then rode the train back to Po-town in a funk. (A funk which pretty much killed what little interest I had in school, by the way.)

I got a few more letters from her before Christmas break, but the spark was gone. Without even realizing it, I'd fried any chance I might have had with her. We saw each other when I got home, but things had changed for good, and we both knew it. Except for a brief period when I got home from school for good in the summer, I never heard from her again.

So what's the lesson here? Well, I learned that sometimes a good thing is a good thing, and sometimes it's too good to be true. I also learned that long-distance relationships suck. Most importantly, I learned to define the terms of the relationship a lot better before getting all kinds of whacko ideas. But as I said, there haven't been many days in the last sixteen years that I haven't thought of her and wondered where she is, and wondered what if? Unhealthy? Probably, but everyone out there has a one that got away.

Next: My great tale of drunken debauchery (one whole night of it...)

(*the Bernstein moment refers to a bit of dialogue in Citizen Kane in which Everett Sloane relates a story about a girl on a ferry and how he still remembered her forty years later.)

Is it wrong to be glad I'm in Connecticut?

Two guys reporting from the storm.

Amazing just seeing the devestation and such. I've been through a hurricane(Gloria, in 1985) but that was nothing like this.

Good vibes and thoughts go out to Hogie and Demp from ITVR, who are currently off the line. Hopefully they come back to us soon.

Update 8/31 10:45 PM - Hogie has checked in, but Demp is still offline. Hogie says that Demp's about an hour south/southwest of him, so unfortunately, I think Demp got a bigger burst of the storm. Be safe, buddy.

Update 9/1 12:30 AM - Demp has reappeared. Apparently he rode most of the storm out in Hogie's neck of the woods, oddly enough, but he just got his power back today.

So, uh, a little history and perspective.

Now, unlike my esteemed fellow blogger, I'm not much for ranting nostalgia, or for that matter, a lot of emo blather.(No offense, bro.) My chief interest in this blog has been trying to spread the geek love.

That said, I've been doing a lot of thinking lately. (Not having a job to distract you will do that.) I've been working on the novel, trying to shape up the first half before November comes and I start working on the second half. For those of you that haven't read it, the first half of the novel takes place in the winter of 1989, and is about a group of high school kids and how they interact over the course of a long weekend. I realized, after writing the original 50,000 words in one caffeine and sugar fueled month, that as much as I liked the characters, I couldn't totally relate to them. Why?

Well, they fuck like rabbits. Seriously. (Okay, that's not the main reason I'm having issues with it, but it is a factor.)

I was a senior in high school in 1989, and let me tell you, I was not fucking like a rabbit. I was, in fact, completely mystified by the female animal.

In 1989, I was a slightly overweight, bespectacled Star Wars geek who was too busy working like a dog to manage to keep my C+ average and working like a dog after school to put some money away for college. I had a few friends who were girls, but no real prospects. That probably had as much to do with the fact that I didn't have a mullet, a Camaro, or a bass guitar hidden away in my garage as it did with my inherent geekiness. As a result, I struggled along, going to the prom with a co-worker who took pity on me after I got shot down by the two other girls I asked. (Unlike Will Piedmont, I wouldn't have gone stag.) It also didn't help that the two guys in my circle of high school friends that I held in highest regard appeared to be getting a great deal of interest from the opposite sex. (Later in life, I would find this not to be true, but at the time, it was like a guillotine blade over my head.)

In the spring and summer of '89, I managed to get my first girlfriend. She was another cashier at Stop and Shop, and our relationship was short and bittersweet. We had three dates, a brief amount of fumbling physical interaction, and then I was summarily dumped for a guy with the aforementioned mullet and Camaro. This, unfortunately, put a brief strain on my relationship with her brother, who was a pretty good friend until I broke his nose. (He was mad at me, I was mad at his sister, it was dumb, and I apologized for a few weeks afterward.)

After that disaster, I almost got laid by a woman twice my age. I worked with some wonderful, hard-partying people in those days, and any excuse for a party was a good one. In this case, it was my departure for Marist. Towards the end of the evening, the hostess of the party and I were sitting outside when she decided that she needed to stick her tongue down my throat. Alcohol was a factor(for her, not for me) but because I was a good boy, there was some fumbling, and a few wonderful moments, but in the end, the Boy Scout in me won out, and that was the end of that.

So, headed for college, I was having no luck at all with the fairer sex. (It gets worse before it gets better, believe me.)

Okay, here's the thing...

I'm trying to get a big Emojournal-style post together, but I'm not sure I've quite got it together yet, so it's not going to be up for a couple of days. But as a thought and preview, those of you who read the blog, let me hear your thoughts on this.

Why is it that when you're single, no one wants you, but when you're in a relationship, or married, that you seem to make the kind of connections you wish you made when you were single?

Food for thought.

I'm gonna change the name of this freakin' blog again...

If I change it to "THERE AREN'T ANY F--KING TORRENTS HERE!", do you think that would help? Most of the hits that I get are people looking for torrents, which isn't very freakin' encouraging as far as my writing.

Anyway...

Much love and best wishes for a speedy recovery to Erica, who gave herself a concussion and seizure this past weekend. (It's a long story, go here to read all about it.) As someone who's been through someone else seizing, it ain't fun.

Something of substance in the next couple of days, probably.(Maybe.)

Nothing much today...

Had a good job interview, hopefully this will be the one. Watched a great Tri-Nations Rugby match between Australia and South Africa(which South Africa won 24-18) and a crazy Japanese movie called Kunoichi, Lady Ninja. Lots of heavy arterial spray and a more then acceptable amount of nudity made up for the fact that the movie didn't make a lick of sense.

Nothing else I can think of today. Maybe something tomorrow.

R.I.P. Bob Moog

A musical pioneer. I love me some cheesy Moog music, especially the Wendy Carlos Bach albums, and his synthesizer paved the way for a whole world of new musical styles, including the aural crack that is Goblin. I actually watched a great documentary on him not too long ago.

Rest in peace, Bob. More later.

R.I.P. Tonino Delli Colli

Cinematographer Delli Colli dies

Cinematographer Tonino Delli Colli, who worked on some of Italy's most famous films, has died at the age of 81.

Rome-born Delli Colli shot more than 130 movies, including such "spaghetti westerns" as The Good the Bad and the Ugly and Once Upon a Time in the West.

He worked regularly with directors such as Sergio Leone, Federico Fellini, Roman Polanski and Pier Paolo Pasolini.

Delli Colli ended his career on a high in 1997 as director of photography on the Oscar-winning Life is Beautiful.

He was found dead in his Rome apartment on Wednesday morning, his niece Laura said on Thursday.

"He was one of those people who loved the set - it was his real family," she said.

'Colours and contrasts'

His funeral will be held on Friday at Santa Maria dei Miracoli in Rome's Piazza del Popolo.

Delli Colli began working at the city's famous Cinecitta studios in his teens, making his first film - Finalmente Si - in 1943.

He shot Italy's first colour movie, Toto a Colori, in 1952, and won four David di Donatello awards - the country's version of the Oscars.

"You must know the sun and the sea, the colours and the contrasts," he once said of his trade. "We Italians are masters of this."

He is survived by his son Stefano.

Now, this is a career for the ages. The Good, The Bad, and The Ugly, Spirits Of The Dead, The Gospel According To Saint Matthew, Once Upon A Time In America, Ginger and Fred, The Name of The Rose,, and, of course, my blog's most popular Google search item. Rest in Peace, Tonino.

Not a whole hell of a lot to talk about...

Except for how nice the weather's been here the last few days. August in Connecticut is usually filled with the kind of day that just sits on your chest and dares you to do something. The humidity's usually about 9000% and the sky is that sort of white-hot clear. Last few days, though, have been crisp and pleasant, warm during the day but not too warm, and cool enough at night to turn off the fans and air conditioners, and to even think about the approach of autumn. Hopefully, we'll actually have some autumn this year, and not have the temperatures go right from 80 to 40 like the last couple of years.

I suppose I should talk about Summerslam. Usually, the Big Four PPVs(that's Wrestlemania, Summerslam, Survivor Series, and the Royal Rumble) tend to wrap up and kick off storylines, and I suppose there's some there, but being that I don't watch Smackdown~!, I'm not really familiar with what's going on over there. Anywho, here's my predictions:

Raw Matches:

Eugene Vs Kurt Angle(for Angle's Gold Medal) - This is probably going to be a comedy match, which is too bad, since Nick Dinsmore and Angle could probably have a hell of a old-school match. I figure Kurt Angle will go over here, since there doesn't seem to be much logic to Eugene having Angle's medal for a while longer.

Matt Hardy Vs Edge - I could spend an hour talking about why WWE will screw this up. I'm assuming Edge will go over, since Matt Hardy's the only one who wants this feud to continue.

John Cena Vs. Chris Jericho(WWE Championship) - Cena's done a decent job carrying the belt, and the best thing I can say about this match is that HHH isn't involved. I doubt they're going to put the title back on Jericho, so Cena goes over, probably despite Carlitoference.

Shawn Michaels Vs. The Orange Goblin - The match that everyone wants to see, and it should be something. The buildup to this has been intense, including suggestions that Bret Hart might return. Expect Michaels to hit all his spots, but Hogan to go over in his final(ha-ha) match.

Smackdown~! Matches

Randy Orton Vs. The Undertaker - The Legend Killer takes on The Legend. Frankly, I can't see Orton winning, and it's too bad in a way, cause here's a guy that they could have pushed to the moon, but they screwed up. As a result, he's buried on SD~! and The Undertaker continues to roll along.

Rey Misterio Vs. Eddie Guerrero(Ladder Match for custody of Dominic Misterio) - Yes, you read that correctly. In one of the lamer storylines in recent memory, Eddie Guerrero announced on SD~! that he had donated the sperm for Rey's son because Rey was shooting blanks, and now Eddie wants custody of "his" son. This one's really a tossup to me, but I'll say Rey-Rey gets to keep his kid.

Orlando Jordan Vs. Chris Benoit(U.S. Championship) - I don't know what the storyline is with this at all, but I'd guess that Benoit will win, based on the fact that Jordan's had the belt a while.

Batista Vs. JBL(World Championship, No Holds Barred) - I can't imagine they'll hang the belt back on the most unpopular champion the company's had in a long time, so DAVE~! will take this one, though I'll guess there'll be lots of interference and blood spilled.

And that's it for the show. No tag matches, no women's matches, and hopefully, no sign of HHH.

The ever popular "stuff that people got here by searching for" post...

In the midst of a large rip project so no big post tonight. Instead, here's some of the search strings that got people here:

"Patrick Macias"
"Breakdown Vanishing Point Guns N' Roses"
"tony todd HIV candyman" (This is an odd one. Not sure what this is supposed to be about.)
The ever popular "Salo Torrent". (Look, kids, even if I was sharing "Salo", do you think I'd openly advertise it? That's facilitation, and these days, that's how you get the MPAA's jackbooted thugs kicking in your door.)
"pictures of Zab Judah" (?)
"Takeshi Kaga" - That one came from Thailand.
"Tanyon Sturtze Pantera"
"Zontar The Thing From Venus"
"gray market DVD Nightwatch movie"

Something more tomorrow, maybe a review of the existential French zombie picture I just saw.

Now that's how to make me want to buy a PPV.

If you missed Raw tonight, too bad for you. Shawn Michaels capped off a solid month of awesome heeltastic promo work by cutting a PHENOMENAL promo(in Montreal, no less), in which he basically came out and said, "yep, I screwed Bret, and I'd do it again." The young guys in the back should take a lesson from Shawn, who has made me hyped up to see a PPV for the first time since Wrestlemania. He's absolutely killed Hogan, and he's done it by telling the truth(sort of) about the real Hulk Hogan.

One of the things that people like me (internet wrestling geeks) like to think is that we know a lot about the backstage happenings going on. We pride ourselves on knowing the secret language of the world, the words and the signals and the moves that the "mark" doesn't see. The reason that Shawn's promos, to me anyway, are so successful, is that he's basically coming out and saying the things that the "smart" fans think are true. The "marks" boo him because he's running down Hogan, but the "smart" fan is sitting out there going, "Yeah, right on. Shoot on him, Shawn."

It's not a shoot, though. (For those of you who don't know, shooting is where you go off script and say or do something real.) If Shawn was actually shooting on Hogan, he wouldn't be around anymore, regardless of how essential he is to the company. But it makes for good promo, certainly better then the retread of Austin/McMahon they're currently pushing as the storyline for John Cena and Bischoff/Jericho/Carlito. And it makes the slightly smarter fan more likely to buy the show, even though, as a smart fan, I know that Hogan's not going to lay down for HBK. But it is fun to watch HBK walking around dressed as Hogan saying "brother" after every other word.

Hopefully, though, this will be the last we see of Hogan for a while. Now that "Hogan Knows Best" is off the ground, there's certainly no reason to keep the old bastard occupying TV time that could go to a number of other people. I'll probably throw some Summerslam predictions up here before the weekend.

What I've done while not blogging...

I can't really think of anything to write about definitively tonight, so some randomness ensues...

- I haven't hit a theater all summer, though I did go and see THE MOVIE in May. Suffice it to say that I was both geeked-out-happy and disappointed at the same time. Maybe it's just 28 years of anticipation, but it was very hard not to be let down by Revenge Of The Sith. I mean, I realize that Eps 1 and 2 weren't the most spectacular things going, but come on, it's the origin of one of the most bad-assed villains in the history of film. It has to be something better then a whiny hissy fit by a tight-assed teenager who's been getting too much smoke blown up his ass by Joe Lieberman. (Okay, maybe not Lieberman. Maybe Trent Lott.) But the first 30 minutes and the final 30 are more than enough to make up for the hour plus inbetween that mostly sucks. (Though the implication that Anakin snuffs the younglings helps me enjoy it.)

- I've been doing a lot of reading, since I have a lot of time on my hands. My most recent reads are:

Assassination Vacation, by Sarah Vowell - An entertaining if short read. Vowell's obsession with Presidential assassinations is amusing, and I did learn quite a bit of trivia that I never knew before. (It's more amusing a read to imagine Violet Parr actually reading it.)

A half dozen of Richard Stark's Parker novels - I was vaguely familiar with the Parker character from Point Blank and the underrated 80's Peter Coyote thriller Slayground, but I'd never actually read one until I found myself intrigued by the most recent one, Nobody Runs Forever. I'm the type of reader who will immediately turn around and go after every other thing I can find by the same author, so I've now read all the Parker books in the Hamden library. I like Stark because his books are a lot like Ed McBain's; right to the point with as little bullshit as possible. Parker gets a job, does the job, things go wrong, Parker cleans up. Of course, now I've got to go Stark hunting, and so far, Alibris has been less than accomodating, and Amazon's not much better at the moment. But hey, there's always used bookstores.

Despite The System: Orson Welles Vs. The Hollywood Studios, by Clinton Heylin - A fascinating read about the films of Orson Welles and the films that didn't quite make it. Very well researched, if the author does seem to have an ax to grind with previous Welles books, and it makes me sad for the films that we never got to see because Welles was too far ahead of his time.

- I'm starting to work on the story again, as November is approaching rapidly and I need to be close to done with the first part if I'm gonna crank out the second part(or at least 50,000 words of it) in 30 days.

- I've been spending too much time allowing the Yankees to make me miserable and not enough time watching all the other movies I've got. I was thinking things would be easier after the season, but now that the NHL's back, the movie backlog probably won't get any smaller.

- Someone hire me. Please. There must be someone out there who can use a moderately talented customer service or call center guy and would be willing to give me $30K a year and good health care benefits.

More later...

A surprisingly competent Italian rip-off.

So, Ark of The Sun God...Temple Of Hell.

One thing that could be said about the Italian film industry(and has been said on a number of Anchor Bay re-issues), was that in the 70's and 80's, the surest way to get your film made was to ape something that had already been sucessful. So we had the series of Romero zombie rip-offs, and quite a cottage industry in Mad Max rip-offs, and here, we get ersatz Raiders of The Lost Ark.

Of course, it's what Raiders would be if Indiana Jones was a common thief and Marcus Brody was an ancient boozehound named Beetle. Rick Spear(David Warbeck, of Fulci's The Beyond) is an American safecracker in Istanbul to pull a routine heist. The heist turns out to be a setup orchestrated by Lord Dean(John Steiner) in order to get Rick to pull another job. Lord Dean is after the Scepter of Gilgamesh, which supposedly contains "untold powers", and is in a secret underground lair somehwere in the desert guarded by a supposedly uncrackable door. We're supposed to believe that Rick would risk his life to take on the uncrackable door. After a car chase involving both speeded-up film shots and extensive use of radio-controlled cars(or something obviously along that scale) and the kidnapping of Rick's girlfriend(twice!), Rick agrees to go after the Ark, taking with him a Sallah-substitute named Mohammed(who does resemble John Rhys-Davies, but is much larger) and the aforementioned Beetle, who had previously gone to the temple with another expedition back in the 30's. (Mention is made of the Jewish archaeologist of that expedition and being chased by Nazis, but the professor's fate is never revealed.)

Once out in the desert, they look for a "bad sign" which turns out to be an obviously fake mountain shaped like a swastika. They're also being tailed by minions in the employ of a local sheik, who takes offense to the foreigners trying to steal his heritage. Of course, he also wants the Scepter for himself, so HE can take over the world. Lord Dean and Rick's girlfriend decide to follow him, and get into a car chase in the desert with the minions(more speeded-up camera work, and they're driving Trans-Am's. In the middle of the desert. No, really.). In the end, there's much fighting and cheesy special effects, and a good time is had by all.

Overall, Ark of The Sun God is pretty entertaining for a low rent Spielberg rip-off. The video quality of the circa-1986 Trans-World VHS is not too bad, and the full-framing is done well, as though Antonio Margharetti knew this one was destined for the video racks. There's some entertainingly cheesy late 70's disco music on the soundtrack, as well as the appropriate faux-John Williams orchestral score. David Warbeck is plausible as the action hero, though he hardly resembles this:



The drawing of Warbeck on this high-quality video cover of the 1980's augments his arms just a bit, making him closer to a Stallone or Schwarzenegger as opposed to his actual more wiry self. Of course, it also ups the Raiders rip-off imagery by adding some things that aren't in the movie. On the right side, there's a WWII-era plane as well as an exploding truck similar to the truck the Nazis used in Raiders. Also not the way it looks in the movie is the ark over Warbeck's head, which resembles a certain other movie as well. The Ark of the Sun God is more like a big coffin in the movie. (Sorry about the quality of the pic. The copy that I got from Best was, shall we say, well-used.) Also, the description on the back of the box is half correct, as the text suggests that Rick is actually looking for the tomb of someone named "Semiramis, Queen Of Babylonia", and that there's also a "fanatical German terrorist" battling for the prize. Neither of which, of course, are mentioned in the movie, but then of course, we are talking about the 80's, which was a great era for deceptive video advertising.

If you can find this movie in your local non-chain video store, you could do worse then to try this one out. I enjoyed this a heck of a lot more than I thought I would.

Coming attraction...

Tomorrow, once I get the cover scanned in, there'll be a review of Antonio Margheretti's Ark Of The Sun God...Temple Of Hell. The cover's important to the amusement quality of the review.

Toho Studios: Where destroying toy cars and buildings is our specialty.

What could I possibly say about The Last Days of Planet Earth that would make you rush right our and seek a copy? Well, the fact that it's mostly out of print won't help much, but you can probably find one in any rental store that doesn't have a national name attached to it.

Released in 1974, Last Days is a phantasmagorical orgy of utter nonsense. I honestly couldn't sum it up for you, because the plot is so far out there, it's not funny. It all has something to do with a professor trying to convince politicians that the end of the world is coming, and Nostradamus(who is Japanese in the brief shot they show of him) has forecast it all unless they change their ways.

This movie features:

- Giant radioactive slugs
- Mutant insect-eating flowers
- Radiation-scarred cannibal aborigines in New Guinea
- Flying stuffed giant bats
- The wholesale destruction by flood of a model of Tokyo
- A chain reaction car accident in which about a hundred Matchbox cars explode
- Model SST planes exploding while flying, ripping holes in the ozone layer and frying people instantly on the ground
- Tetsuro (Tiger Tanaka from You Only Live Twice)Tamba trying to convince everyone that he knows everything(basically the same part he'd play for the next 25 years)
- A spectacularly cheesy Criswell-style narrator who intones grave thoughts over about 1/3 of the movie(including undubbed Japanese dialogue.)

I couldn't even begin to hit all the highlights of this one, but just as an example, the scene with the chain reaction car explosion is the most ridiculous thing ever. I mean, the guy drives off in his real car, crashes his real car, it explodes. You see one or two real cars explode, but you're supposed to believe that this one crash sets off a chain reaction of cars exploding that's more akin to something like the alien attack in Independance Day(but handled far more ineptly) than what probably would actually happen(I'm not sure what that is, but it couldn't possibly be a mile's worth of chain reaction explosions.)

This is a movie that until recently, was virtually invisible except for the Paramount VHS that I saw. It appears to be the TV print, as there are several commercial-style blackouts scattered throughout. Video quality is fair, as Paramount opted to put it on an EP tape. It is drastically cut, running just 88 minutes, which is about half an hour shorter then the Japanese running time. In Tokyoscope, Patrick Macias refers to the Japanese version as "playing it fairly cool for the first half hour like a good little lysergic before the bad trip comes in" whereas the American version "goes for the throat from frame one". In addition, the Japanese version has apparently been in Toho's vault since 1980 due to political correctness concerns over it.(Though they did show it, uncut, on Japanese TV on Christmas Day 1980 before locking it up.)

Seriously, if you can lay hands on a copy of this one, rent it, and team it with Godzilla vs. The Smog Monster for even more entertainment value. Short of Showgirls, this is probably one of the best giggles you'll have for quite a while.

And I just found this. Apparently this guy is releasing a DVD box of all of the different available versions of the movie. If I had $60, I'd be ordering it right now.

This is a much better version of the below photo...

Thanks to D.J. Frosty Freeze of ITVR for posting it as his sig. If he didn't make it, well, whoever did, it's a great and amusing thing.

If you have to ask, you're not a wrestling geek, and we don't have three hours to talk about Montreal, "Wrestling With Shadows", and the real reason Earl Hebner got fired.

Not much better things in the world...

then to spend a couple of hours on a Sunday playing wiffle ball with your cousin and then running a bunch of three to five year olds ragged(or more likely running yourself ragged) chasing them around as the "Tickle Monster."

Except finishing it off with the sublime insanity of Toho's "The Last Days Of Planet Earth."

More tomorrow.

Well, there's the fight of the year...

And then there's the near WWE-level Jeff Lacy/Rob Reid fight which just finished. What can you say about a fight that had more twists and turns then an average McMahon-scripted PPV Main Event?

Round by round follows. I started paying attention when they began playing "Born In The USA" for Lacy as he headed for the ring. Obviously, the fact that Lacy's fighting a Brit would necessitate such a song, but "Born In The USA"? Last time I checked, that wasn't exactly the most patriotic song to come down the pipe.

Lacy is the hometown boy here, and gets the cheap pop. (Of course, when the entire arena is rooting for you, it's not a cheap pop. But I digress...) Reid comes in with a decent record and has apparently never been knocked down in a fight. He's also carrying the IBO belt, and BoxRec lists him as the #1 Super Middleweight, but as my boy Brendan said, he's not a known commodity on this side of the pond.

Round 1 - Not a huge amount of action as they start, but Lacy definitely seems the agressor as they punch and grapple around a bit. At about 1:30, Reid takes a couple of extra shots after the break is called, and it's quickly becoming obvious what kind of a fight this is going to be. At 1:10 he gets warned for hitting Lacy in the back of the head. Lacy gets some more work in before the bell, and it's a 10-9 round for Lacy, simply for aggressiveness.

Round 2 - Reid is backing up to start the round, making Lacy chase him. They wrestle around some more, and Reid gets warned about using his head. Most of the round is Lacy attacking and Reid grabbing, though he gets warned again at about :26 for hitting Lacy in the back. Another 10-9 round for Lacy, as Reid seems to be trying to decide which dirty tactic to use next.

Round 3 - Reid comes out jabbing early, and shows some signs of life. More wrestling follows at the 2 minute mark, and then at 1:25, Lacy lands a low blow but somehow avoids a point deduction, maybe because Reid wants to go again after about 30 seconds off. At about 1:00, Reid is warned again about the headbutting, and the last 40 seconds or so is all out war. I honestly could see it going either way in this round, so I call it 10-10.

Round 4 - Lacy is on fire. He spends virtually the entire round just bombing away at Reid. I gotta say this much for Reid, he's no punk. He stands in and just lets Lacy bomb away at him. Lacy's biggest onslaught is just before the bell, but Reid seemingly laughs it off, and says something to Lacy after the bell as Lacy took at least two shots after the bell. 10-9 Lacy, but there's an argument here for 10-8.

Now the fun begins.

Round 5 - Lacy continues to bomb away, hitting Reid with a particularly nasty jab at about 2 minutes. At 1:30, all hell breaks loose. Reid intentionally headbutts Lacy. The ref steps in to call time and take a point from Reid. As he does, Lacy swings over him and knocks down Reid. Clearly time has been called, but the ref not only counts it as a knockdown, but still takes the point away from Reid as well. (After the fight, the ref would not talk to the press, but apparently told Jim Gray that the punch was before he called time. Uh, sorry, man, but no.) Reid seems more annoyed then anything else, but Lacy is now swinging for the fences, looking for the 1-punch knockout. At about :08, Lacy scores a second, legitimate knockdown of Reid on a good hook. The round should have been a 10-7, but it's a 10-6 with the phantom knockdown.

For those of you keeping score, it's now 50-43 on my scorecard, and that's with the drawn round. Reid needs a miracle, or else Joe Calzaghe to run down to ringside with a chair, paste Lacy, and then tombstone him onto the chair.

Round 6 - Reid looks a bit lost out there, as he's just trying to stay alive. Much clutching and grabbing ensues. At about 1:20, Lacy seems to be rubbing his eye as though cut, but no one seems to notice but me. At :47, Reid goes down again. The round ends with Lacy coming forward again. Reid still seems game, but you have to wonder what the point of going on is. 10-8 Lacy.

Round 7 - Reid is still out there trying, jabbing away at Lacy inbetween flurries. At 1:55 he tries to scam a point on a phantom low blow, but the ref's not having it. At 1:27, he loses a point for excessive holding, and the ref threatens to DQ him if he keeps it up. ("Please do us the favor," I yell at my TV.) At about :40, Lacy unleashes a massive combo of jabs and uppercuts that ends with a solid right uppercut to Reid's jaw that rolls his eyes a little and knocks him down at :27. Lacy goes right back in and continues bombing away right to the bell.

As Reid goes into his corner, his trainer and he begin to argue, as the trainer is for calling the fight. He does so, despite Reid's protests to the contrary, and your winner by TKO at the end of round 7 is Jeff Lacy. After the fight, there's nearly another as one of Lacy's seconds starts to beef with Reid while Jim Gray is interviewing him. Reid admits intentionally headbutting Lacy, but says that Lacy never got him cleanly, and says he wanted to continue. Considering he was down 70-58 on my scorecard, and 70-57 on the cards of all three judges, I don't think it would have mattered.

Lacy's next fight should be with the aforementioned Joe Calzaghe, provided he beats whatever ham'n'egger he fights in September. BoxRec.com doesn't have an opponent listed, so who knows who it'll be. If Lacy beats Calzaghe(on Calzaghe's home turf, mind you), he'll add the WBO Super Middleweight Title to his IBF and IBO belts. After that, Lacy talked on the Showtime pre-fight broadcast about Jermain Taylor, though he'd have to go down to 160. That ought to be an interesting fight.

Oh, I almost forgot about this.

Hell Freezes Over:











For those of you scratching your heads, just try to imagine, say, Michael Moore and George Bush shaking hands. That's about the level of this here picture.

Some randomness today.

A rarity on Friday Night Fights tonight, two out of three fights ending in knockouts instead of Teddy Atlas complaining about (insert state commission here)'s bad judges. ME was Connecticut's own Lawrence Clay-Bey sleepwalking his way to a draw against Derek Bryant, and considering how Bryant missed a lot of chances to put the slower, heavier Clay-Bey away, a draw was what they deserved.

Tomorrow night's Showtime telecast should be excellent. They are rerunning Diego Corrales/Jose Luis Castillo from May, which is by far the best fight of the year so far. If you ever wanted a reason to start watching the sport, this would be it. Following the replay, they will be showing Jeff "Left Hook" Lacy vs. Robin "Grim Reaper" Reid in a Super Middleweight collision. Lacy will probably win this one going away, though Jermaine Taylor suggested on FNF tonight that Reid fights dirty, so who knows what might happen.

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Gary Sheffield needs to shut up. Seriously.

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Unfortunately for Andy Reid, Todd Pinkston has ruptured his Achilles tendon, and will miss the season, which means the Iggles will probably have to buck up and give T.O. a nice fat salary increase.

Wild card at best, if we're really lucky.

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I can't imagine anyone would possibly want to pay to see something that they can see every freakin' day on Discovery or Animal Planet, but apparently "March Of The Penguins" is now the highest grossing documentary not involving Michael Moore. My wife wants me to go see it. I'll bet you can guess what my response to that concept was.

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Planning to get back to writing reviews again, but I haven't really been watching much other than Yankee games, boxing, and Mythbusters. Mostly I've been working on this year's grand DVD project, which is the entire run of Mystery Science Theatre 3000. Thanks to the technological wonder of Bit Torrent, and some nice people out there that "keep circulating the tapes", I now have every episode ever made, plus about 5GB worth of various specials and other random stuff.

No, I won't burn them for you. Unless you ask nicely and give me something.

Damn you, Steroid Boy.

I had a whole pissy EmoJournal-style rant all set to go about the lousy day and how Joe Torre completed it by letting Chacon start the seventh, but then A-Rod and the 'Roid Ranger went and bombed Bob Wickman and changed my mood.

Oh well. No one seems to have noticed that I'm blogging again. Just as well.

Well, I'm back.

I suppose so, anyway. Not that anyone's particularly missed me, or commented to that effect.

I got burned out on blogging to an extent, and the problems of the real world overwhelmed any desire to sit down and recount them here.

But it's been four months and two days since I blogged, and I figured I might as well at least try to write something. So, here I am. As you can see, if you used to read me, the blog title has changed, and so has the look. It may change again, since I'm not too sure how well it's going to work.

So what's been going on? Well, a lot.

I lost my job. Basically, the company I worked for as a vendor(in a certain national home improvement chain whose employees all wear orange) let me go because of a change in the client's vision of what vendors should do. In short, I got hosed. But I did get a nice severance package out of it, so that was nice, while it lasted. Unfortunately, now I'm looking for work, and not having much luck of it. (Too many of us looking for the same jobs, I think.)

We moved. Thom and Erica sold their house, and my father-in-law built an extension on his house for us. If you look a half dozen posts down or so, you'll see some optimistic comments about moving by mid/late April. That didn't happen, because my father-in-law hired the worst contractor in the history of the universe. As a result, we finally moved into our house the first week of FUCKING JULY. It was not a fun experience, though compared to Thom and Erica's issues getting the house sold, we had a walk in the park.

Those were the big things, though there were a lot of lesser things that have happened this summer, such as simultaneously getting sunburnt and poured upon at Ozzfest.

Hopefully, I'm going to post a bit more regularly, though I did say that back in April. This time, I mean it. Really.