Heinous! OR: Kurt got Melvined, and not by Death

It's long been my belief that Bill and Ted's Bogus Journey is a totally under-rated sequel. I truly feel like it's superior to it's predecessor, Like T2 was to Terminator, Or Dark Knight was to every other movie ever made. You get a young Alex Winter and a pre-Point Break Keeanu Reeves, with all the silliness and amusing characters as "Excellent Adventure", but with none of that history paper shenanigans that felt like they were trying to shoehorn in book learning into it. "Bogus Journey" takes our (inferred) stoner duo to Purgatory, Heaven, and encounters with Aliens, Death and no less than 4 different pairs of Bill and Teds. Sure, that "Station" thing was kind of bullshit, but BATBJ (whoa! Bat-BJ!) has many good ideas that really captured my imagination as a boy.
Most of all, the idea of "Personalized Hell".

Now, I'm not a religious man by any stretch, but I've often thought about what my personalized hell would consist of. For Bill & Ted is was drill Sargents, deranged easter bunnies and hairy lipped grandmas. Maybe in mine I'd be the main course of a thanksgiving celebration between all my ex's, unable to move of communicate, while they all quite vocally commiserate over what an asshole I am while tearing me apart and eating me? Maybe I'm stuck in a room with 10,000 cell phone users and all I want to do is finish a book?

Or maybe I'd think I was in Heaven, and had gained admission to a show of a band I always loved but never got a chance to see. Like the Ramones or Nirvana. Let's say Nirvana. Kurt would get up on stage, still alive and 27, exactly how you'd picture him. He'd approach the mic to sing, and as soon as he was about to let out his first word....Jon Bon Jovi's poofy whine would come out! Almost as if he was merely a puppet, unable to control his own body or voice. Flava Flav's voice would be next, and then that crying pussy Dave Mustaine, or that treasure troll looking guy who married Avril Lavigne.

Come to think of it....it would look exactly like this:




By now, many of us have seen Kurt Cobain playing hype-man to Chuck D, or belting out "You give love a bad name" like he means it. For anyone who was ever a fan of Nirvana or what they represented, it's pretty horrific. Having him appear in the game isn't necessarily a bad thing, look no further than the largely tasteful usage of The Beatles in their recently released Rock Band game for proof that in CAN be done right. But I think it's pretty apparent to anyone who can see the above video that having Kurt Cobain be an unlockable character, with the ability to participate in every song is a fumble of epic proportions.

So who's to blame? Many would point the finger at Courtney Love, and that's never a bad place to start in situations such as these. After all, she's in charge of Cobain's estate and thus would have to sign off on using his likeness (as I understand it, Her, Dave Grohl and Krist Novoselic have equal ownership of Nirvana music, however the estate is hers, and likeness rights would be in her jurisdiction). Is it Activision, the gamemaker's fault for not being more sensitive to the legacies or reputations of the musicians they're using to sell their games? Perhaps, but Activision in the business of just that, selling games. If exploiting memories of a beloved musician is going to aid in that, then they're only doing their jobs. One could argue that all Activision did was present players with a playable Kurt Cobain, and what they chose to do with it is up to them. After all, You don't HAVE to play as Kurt for non-Nirvana songs, and if the option to do so was a concern maybe ol' Courney Love-Cobain (ever notice the "Cobain" is only ever added for emphasis when dealing with Nirvana related business? It's like an exclamation point...) should've read over the contracts before signing them. You'd never see Paul McCartney and John Lennon tag-teaming a Megadeth song along side cartoon characters, and for good reason - they have an iron clad team of professionals working to preserve their respective estates, and poor Kurt has, well...Courtney Love(-Cobain!) to tend to his.

The fact that she's now trying to sue Activision, after the fact, is pretty ridiculous. Sure, Activision are facilitating besmerchment, but that's not a crime. I mean, You don't need a video game to make Kurt Cobain look foolish if you really want to. All you need is an imagination, and no matter how hard she tries, Courtney Love cannot sue your imagination.

Like look, Here's Kurt Cobain LITTERING.



Hows that? That do anything for ya? Well, how about this - Here's Kurt Cobain knocking over a child's snowman. Such a dick move!





I think the bottom line is: Just because you can make Kurt Cobain sing and emote like Gavin Rossdale doesn't mean you should. I don't know if it's as a result of the internet, or if the internet is just bringing a preexisting facet of the human condition more out in the open, but the Can/Should ratio in people's common sense is starting to get seriously warped.

Hey!....Here's Ghandi kicking a baby!!

I'm onto you, Hollywood. OR: Ashlee Simpson-Wentz's Maternity style!!!!1

I just got finished watching the delightful indie (if not indie-styled) film "Away We Go" starring former SNLer and Rental Maya Rudolf, playing a 30-something expectant mother. Opposite her is the guy who plays the "Tim" Character on the US version of the Office ("Jim"), John Krasinski as her quirky (but not in an trite indie film kind of way) but overall likable boyfriend. It was very capably written by Dave Eggers of "A Heartbreaking Work of Staggering Genius" fame (who also co-wrote the upcoming pant-crappingly awesome looking "Where the wild things Are") and his wife.

I found the film really enjoyable. Both leads give strong performances, and smaller standout roles from Alison Janney and Maggie Gyllenhaal are particularly well done. It was able to hit that hard to reach balance, like Juno before it, between being laugh out loud funny but also really touching and sweet.

But it got me to thinking...many of my favorite films of the past few years, from the aforementioned Juno to Knocked Up (the "36 Chambers" of Apatow films) and now this one all seem to have a common theme: Fashionable young go-getters getting accidentally pregnant and keeping the child.

Does Hollywood secretly fear that there aren't enough young hipsters breeding? Do indie film makers fear that if they're not diligent, in a single generation their genre's entire demographic could be wiped out? Was Mike Judge's fabulous "Idiocracy" sabotaged by Hollywood for hitting this concept too on the nose? Is there a conspiracy to make Pregnancy hip? Will Urban outfitters soon sprout maternity departments?

Well, hate to let you down, secret shadowy Hollywood overlords, but I know one person your little plot will not be working on: Me.

I'm not going to be the second lead character who hears of his entire life being flushed down a toilet and reacts quirkily, or with hilarious flippantness. I've learned a lot from movies; I never go in against a Sicilian when death is on the line, and I never turn around to look when things explode behind me, but this is where I draw the line. My foot is down. I absolutely refuse. Sure, it may look like one of life's madcap adventures in the movies, but in real life it sounds downright horrifying to me.

If a some sort of supernatural magic entity, like a Genie, or Cris Angel (that douche) came to me and said I had a choice between being told that I'm responsible for a baby, OR that 1 random night in the next calender month, my house would be violently invaded, you know what I would do? I'd go out the next day and buy a high quality baseball bat, and a couple feet of barbed wire. I'd wrap the barbed wire around the tip of the bat, keep it close by. Then, I would sleep soundly for the next 30 days with the calming reassurance that within a month everything will be back to normal.

Here's an artists rendering:



You heard it here first: 2 minutes of frightened bat assault far outweighs raising a child.

Just something I heard recently... OR: Prove that this isn't factual.

Hey, did any of you heard that Glenn Beck raped and murdered a girl in 1990?
Apparently Glenn Beck raped and murdered a girl in 1990.



I mean, OK, I guess it's just a rumor that Glenn Beck raped and murdered a girl in 1990, but Glenn Beck has yet to come out and prove to the world that he didn't rape and murder a girl in 1990, so I'm inclined to believe that Glenn Beck, did indeed rape and murder a girl in 1990.

More as this develops...

For YOU! OR: humbled, but back intact.

In a fairly recent episode of SMODcast, Kevin Smith and guest host Macolm Ingram, a local Torontonain film maker and bear, were dicussing Malcolm's disapproval of the "Biforcated cock community" (Kevin's words) and what Kevin percieved as in-fighting, from one sexual minority towards another. Malcolm argued that it was like NAMBLA wanting to march in the gay pride parade-He didn't want them waving his flag, for him to be under their umbrella. An understandable argument, and one that was one of my first thoughts when approaching the Metro Toronto Convention centre, for this years Comic Con Fan Expo. Just as not all sexual fetishes are equal, neither are all nerds, and the more fuzzy bear ears and make-up I saw, the less felt comfortable being under that umbrella.



I've been going to the comic con for years. Back when it actually WAS called the Toronto Comic Con. Then HobbyStar marketing, the event organizers, decided quite literally to put all their eggs in one basket, combining the Comic, Gaming, Horror, Sci-Fi and (*sigh*) Manga events into one, and rechristening it the "Fan Expo". It brings out a lot more people, and it means you can catch a glimpse of the Soup Nazi charging money for autographs on your way to the bathroom. Some of the costumes are pretty cool, but for every hot girl dressed as Supergirl, or shockingly accurate Ghostbuster you see, theres about 20 pale basement dwellers dressed as obscure final fantasy characters. By entering the convention floor, Hobbystar has basically entered you into an enviroment where you and this guy are peers. Contemporaries. Ugh.

But, apart from the occasional bout of self righteousness, having to say "paaaaaar-don me" as you inch past someone with a gigantic cardboard n' tinfoil sword, and having to deal with comic book guys*, the convention is a good time for a guy like me. Free junk, cheap(er) comics, earthy aromas, what's not to like?

Oh, and I almost got into an altercation with 80s Wrestler "The Iron Sheik".



The Comic Con/Fan expo has this weird effect, where even if you've been there for 3 hours, you'll still turn around a corner and see an entire row that you missed. One such turn, landed me 2 feet away the aforementioned Hulk Hogan rival and symbol of 1980s Iranophobia, Mr. Sheik. Sitting next to him was fellow 80s wrestler, Elvis look-alike and challenging video game character, the "Honky Tonk Man". Taken aback, I continued to walk past both gentlemen, before turning around to snap a candid photo of the two doing their thing. A souvenir of my chance encounter. It was at this point that several shouting men descended upon me. Evidently, taking a photo was not a good idea. Before I knew it 3 guys had circled me. One guy would shout something and the Another guy would repeat what the first guy shouted. It was like if Chuck D. and Flavor Flav were circus carnies.

"Get a Picture!"
"GET A PICTURE!!"
"Let me take your bag"
"LET HIM TAKE YOUR BAG"
"He's a Legend!"
"HE'S A LEGEND!!".

They were grabbing at my bag and nudging me in the direction of Iron Sheik. Iron Sheik, who had been mid-pitch to someone else at the time ("You want picture with me and that fucking gay faggot Hulk Hogan?"), stopped his pitch and looked at me menacingly. Honky Tonk Man, taking a cue from Sheik, did the same. So now I'm 2 feet away from a couple of 80s wrestlers giving me the stare-down with 3 of their handlers poking and prodding me into taking a $25 photo.
"uh, no, no thank you, sorry, no thanks, sorry, I'm set thanks, no thanks" and I got the fuck out of there. I mean, it's not to say that I thought that Iron Sheik was going to get me in the Camel Clutch and make me humble, but I've never been one for hard sell situations, and this was about as hard sell as it comes.

Remember that scene in "The Wrestler" where Randy "The Ram" Robinson is working a small town wrestling convention in a school gym, and there's barely anyone there? Just a bunch of injured old wrestlers selling DVDs and 8x10s? It was really sad wasn't it? That memorable scene is now the African child with bugs on his face of the wrestling community. "These men took slams for years...for YOU, and now you can pay them back right now!" I heard one of the shouters say to the crowd. It's funny, because I didn't realize I currently owed a debt to professional wrestlers. I was under the impression they were doing it of their own accord and were making at-worst a comfortable living in their day. Had I known the couple hours of wrestling I was able to sneak past my parents would come back as money owed, 20 years later at a place I went to buy comic books, I wouldn't have tuned in.
What's next? "Patrick Duffy publicly humiliated himself pretending to be sexually attracted to Suzanne Somers for YOU!! Pay him back!!" while I'm at the Post Office?
Granted, the fact that I attempted to take a free picture of the pair means I clearly had a perverse interest, but I don't think vague interest should equal monetary obligation.




* By "Comic book guys" I don't mean the noble comic enthusiast/collector/etc. I'm of course referring to the admittedly dying breed that is the comic book retail guys, as perfectly encompassed on The Simpsons. The kind of greedy, mean spirited businessmen that can convince themselves that any single issue of a modern comic is worth over a hundred dollars, and that charging US cover price is a limited time convention deal-of-the-century. May they one day be crushed under the weight of their chromium halo-foil variant covers and Magic: The Gathering cards.

Felt 3 Update!! OR: I don't mean to toot my own horn, but...

Did I not say?
I don't mean to toot my own horn, but did I not say?



Felt 3: A Tribute to Rosie Perez.
Produced by Aesop Rock.

I called it.

ps. This will be my last post on the subject, at least 'till the album drops, as I don't want to come off as a Rhymesayers street teamer or something, this is just something I'm really excited about hearing. The preview single is, in the parlence of Kevin Federline circa 2004, "The Fire".
In case you missed my hotlink the first time, Cop it HERE.

The Worst! Or: the "in the theatre" part is accounting for "Last Days".

On this, the evening I will experience a new film by Quentin Tarantino, the man who has crafted some of my very favorite films, I will tell you the story of one that's not only polar opposite, but also timely as it's recently reared it's ugly head. Simply put: The worst movie I've ever seen in a movie theatre.

It was a more innocent time, the summer of 2008. This very blog was in it's infancy, The democrats were deciding between a charismatic black man and a shrewish old harpie in a pant-suit, and the world had become enamored with a young, well fed Michael Phelps. I was wandering around the ScotiaBank Theatre Paramount, I believe there to make use of their bathroom facilities on one of my many marathon walks, when a woman approached me with a clipboard. I don't remember what her exact pitch was, but it was something to the effect of "Do you like these movies" and on her clipboard read the following:

Knocked Up
South Park: Bigger, Longer & Uncut
Wedding Crashers
Napoleon Dynamite

and a few more. I liked all of these movies*. I believe she also asked me if I liked Micheal Madsen. "Sure, who doesn't?" She then offered me free tickets to a test screening of a new Michael Madsen comedy, thats stylistically in the same vein as the movies listed on the sheet.
Sounds awesome, right?

A couple weeks later, we arrived in a timely fashion as part of a completely packed audience. Evidently, there are a lot of people out there who like the idea of a free movie. What I also noticed was the variety of demographics represented. I even noticed a cute elderly couple, in their 80s if a day, a couple of rows behind us. We were all ready for a good time at the movies.

The movie we saw was called "You might as well live". It centers around a completely unlikable character named Robert Mutt, whom I'm sure the writers thought would come off as endearing a la Napoleon Dynamite, but ends up just being loathsome. Michael Madsen's character, a bit-part at best, is Clinton Manitoba a childhood hero of Mutt's, who doesn't show up till 2/3rds into the movie. The movie takes Mutt from a mental ward, to an S&M party, to being a drug mule, and many other over the top situations all on a journey to "be somebody". Highlights include gratuitous penis shots, and watching Robert Mutt take a shit into a tire. The gross-out humor fell so flat, I found myself feeling embarrassed for the elderly couple who had been duped into watching it.

When the credits rolled and the lights came up, I noticed something; Of the 300 capacity theatre, about 40 people remained till the end of the movie and received comment cards.

Theres a moment in the overlooked film "What Just Happened?" where a film producer played by Robert DeNiro, looks over the comment cards from a test screening, and to his shock the comments are uniformly, aggressively negative. About 45 minutes into this movie, I knew the only reason I was staying was to do my part as a test audience member, and the rip this movie apart on my comment card, for the betterment of mankind.

When the time came, I ripped it a new asshole, and while feeling that I had wasted 2 hours, I left content that at least that terrible movie will never see the light of day.

Cut to last week, when while walking to work, I noticed this looking me in the face...




It took them over a year, but it looks like it's actually coming out.


Long story short: Avoid this movie like an STD. You've been warned.




* Napoleon Dynamite to a much lesser extent than the rest. In fairness, it's due to factors having nothing much to do with the initial watching experience. The film itself is quirky and funny, but the amount of people immitating the character (see also:Austin Powers, Ace Ventura & Borat), and the amount of film makers who think a few quirky characters and a hand-writing font makes a good movie (and the studios that fund them) have soured my overall opinion of it.

Murs+Slug is the group, but Felt is the fabric OR: Izzuzu Troopah!

It was announced this week that LA indie-rap living legend Murs would be teaming up with 1 half of Minnasoda's Atmosphere, Slug for for the 3rd in their series of tributes, Felt 3.

Each one of the previous releases was a "tribute" to an actress who was (at the point of release) out of the public eye. The first, produced by Living Legends' The Grouch was "A Tribute to Christina Ricci". The second, was produced by Atmosphere's Ant, and was "A Tribute to Lisa Bonet" (with comic book accompaniment by Jim Mahfood).

On the third release they've decided to have fun with the fans and be secretive about who the producer is and who the tribute is going to be to.





Murs + ? + Slug = Felt 3: A Tribute to _____ _____.


hmmmmmmm.

Well, before it's revealed, I'll put in my guess and see if it turns out being right. The producer has been heavily rumored to be everyone from Wu Tang's The RZA to Jake One to rapper Aesop Rock, but the actress is completely up in the air.

My guess:

Murs + Aesop Rock + Slug = Felt 3: A Tribute to Rosie Perez.

We'll see!!

In the mean time, get the new track "Protagonists" HERE (Right-Click, "Save As...")

Bloggin' 'Bout BagsOR: and yet bottled water's popularity holds sway

The most beautiful thing you've ever seen will cost you a mere five cents.

This is going to be hard to believe, But in the interest of full disclosure, I am not a professional blogger, Artist or Rock Star (I know! Crazy!) I currently hold down a retail position at a record store. It's an interesting time for music retail - The phrase "polishing the brass on the titanic" comes to mind. But alas, that's another discussion for another day. What I am here to rap with the kids about is plastic bags.

As recently as about 2 months ago, Ontario passed a by-law requiring all businesses that use plastic bags to charge a minimum of 5 cents for each bag, in an effort to curb plastic bag usage.
Ring the bells and sound the alarms: Something that was once free is free no longer!!

Now, reasonable people would merely shrug this off, see that it's for the greater good of the environment and adjust accordingly. But reasonable people are not a downtown chain record store's primary demographic. The rise of downloading and iTunes has changed not only the volume of customer, but the attitudes in customers as well. Now a days people already have a built-in indignance when it comes to actually paying for music, movies and the like. Most have found other ways to get their music (legal or otherwise). So, slowly but surely, it's the people who are ignorant or frightened of technology or change that are becoming the most visible percentage of customers.
Simply put, We deal in crazies (and the elderly).
and let me tell you, Crazies don't like paying no damn nickel for no damn plastic bag.

Reactions are varied, but almost always negative.
When asked, some puff their chests and loudly exclaim "Nope! No sir!" as if they're the Rosa Parks of plastic bags, and it's a badge of honor to carry their season of Murphy Brown under their arm like a library book. Some decline as if their far more sly than to to be foiled by my clever ruse, smiling at me, heads slightly cocked back as if to say "I'm onto you." Others are far more accusatory in their refusal; "Not if YOU'RE going to CHARGE me!!", like I'm pocketing the money myself, all a part of a grand scheme to get all Oprah rich, 1 nickel at a time, and all below the radar of my corporate overlords.

It's a curious set of circumstances. A lot of people will roll their eyes and groan if they see me break stride to bend over to pick up a nickel off the sidewalk. "Look at this cheap bastard" they say. But when the same sum of money is being asked of them at a cash register, they're shocked and appalled. They hold onto their nickels with such a firm grip like it's their newborn autistic child and I'm asking them to smash it's face with a hammer.

I'm not saying everyone should buy a bag, quite the opposite, just be aware that it's now the law, and adjust accordingly. And if one day should you decide to buy something on impulse and or otherwise not have a bag on you, don't act like it's the poor sales clerk's fault. Because he might be a blogger, and might get angry enough to make fun of you. Publicly. Online. So there.

Helllooo-oo-oo-oo...? Or: ...

Just posting a couple of videos to see if anyone is still listening/reading...

2 "Regulars", 1 "African from an Asian country"

5th Grade Reporter Damon Weaver interviews "Tall and Nice" President Obama



Aaaaanyways... For those who care: Blog returns Monday.

Sunday Sunday Sunday!! OR: 3D Up, Hiding Tuffs and Bruno Goes Down

Sunday was interesting for many reasons. After work I decided that two days having gone by without seeing the newest Pixar movie was two too many, and went and saw UP!


Drizzling that extra helping of “aw neat!” on top, was going to see it in 3-D. Having not seen anything in 3D for a number of years, the 3D content which amounted to 2 Trailers, followed by the mandatory Pixar short, followed by the film, were all breathtaking. There were no dramatic pointing/throwing things at the audience, as the film wasn't made specifically for 3D, but it gave the scenery that much more pop and depth, and for a film that's set primarily either in the air, or in the wilderness, it really works wonders. Also, with the newer 3D technology, gone are the Meth blue 'n' Red 3D glasses, replaced with much cooler Wayfarer-styled plastic specs, which I kept.

The film itself is, as expected, totally heartwarming. If you don't walk out of there with a smile on your face, you're basically probably a dick. Just sayin'.
It has one of those lump-in-your-throat moments, a la Bambi's mom, it has a lot of silly laughs, and a ton of heart. Also, it pretty much goes without saying, but the animation is stunning. The way they've mastered things like hair, and textures and fabrics is something to behold. Another thing I like about Pixar is, while they're all profitable big budget Hollywood pictures, they also never seem like anything is shoehorned into the story for the purposes of marketability. Never does the whole narrative break down so Elton John can sing a song, or so they can introduce the 10th auxiliary character that's now available in stuffed animal form, and while Pixar soundtrack albums and toys do exist, they do a much better job of making the story of the film come first. They may never outdo The Incredibles for me, in terms of a subject matter being close to my heart, but UP is definitely another notch in Pixar's impressive winning streak.

On the way home, I opted to walk down a oddly baron Queen West and through Trinity Bellwoods park. Once I was about half a block away I saw 2 cop cars parked in the middle of a grassy area to the right, with their lights flashing. “Well” I said to myself “At least I'll feel safer going through the park”. When I say “safer” I don't mean I'm concerned about violence, I just mean that there's less of a chance of catching an unsavory looking public sex act out of the corner of my eye when there are so many cops around. So I walked up the stairs and continued on my way home. The park was, like Queen Street, sort of unnervingly quiet and free of people. I looked a bit further ahead and noticed more police cars, parked with their lights on, stationed throughout the park. And then more. And then more.
Once I was about to exit the park I was at a fork in the road, and I noticed the police had barricaded the end of each street with police cars parked sideways. “What have I just walked into and why didn't anyone stop me from walking through it” I wondered.
Here's an artist's rendering:


Once I exited onto Shaw, I saw an officer blocking off a small gap in the street's island with a motorcycle. I imagined him to be the badass rebel of the police force. “I work alone.” he'd say with a quiet intensity, silently recalling the one time he messed up and got his last true partner killed, one day before his impending retirement. “You're a loose cannon, Walarski!” the Chief would shout, getting an excellent view from behind his desk. “But you get results.”

I slowly walked over to him and began to explain “Look, if this is about the 3D glasses, I'll gladly give them ba--” he then cut me off “Where are you coming from, Buddy?”.
This jarred me. I was not his buddy.
“Um, just walked through Trinity Bellwoods...”
“Trinity Bellwoods” he repeated. “Where are you headed?”
“Home - College and Shaw”
“College and Shaw” He again repeated to himself, my confidence in his badassery waning with each repeat.
“So....Whats going on?” I asked.
“Well, theres some guys with guns in the area, we're trying to find them.”
“Oh.”

He then instructed me to talk an alternate, sort of pain-in-the-ass route home, making sure to walk down the middle of the street, with my hands out of my pockets. From there on, the remaining 10 minutes or so of diverted walking, I passed maybe 6 more police cars, all giving me the eye. I don't know if they ever caught the “Guys with Guns” in question, but I hope Walarski got him, and then drove his motorcycle through a plate glass window and then a moving train, and it turned out the guys with the guns killed his partner so he was all “mendozaaaaaaaaa” and got his just revenge, then walked the earth without a sense of purpose... But I digress...

Once I had returned to my stately manor and logged onto the internets, it was abuzz with talk of a single moment from that night. Twitter, Facebook, Digg & message boards were all chattering away about one single thing, and that single thing was this:



As I imagine you've all seen by now, The Andy Kaufman of our time, Sasha Baron Cohen ended up shoving his bare asshole into the face of a very pissed off Eminem. Was it staged? Was Eminem in on the joke? The message boards and Twitter accounts were feverishly dissecting the clip. Many people were quick to call Eminem a Homophobe, which, may or may not be the case (he's certainly done things that make cases for either sides of the argument) but using this scenario as proof of his homophobia is a pretty flimsy argument. Within the context of the clip, and it being not planned out, I don't think reacting badly towards someone unexpectedly throwing their bare asshole to within inches of your face qualifies as homophobia. Richard Simmons would have reacted the same way. Would rimming him have been the "PC" thing to do?

But either way, it turns out Eminem was totally in on it, and the whole thing was meticulously staged, and even dress rehearsed. In a blog post that's apparently since been taken down, head writer Scott Aukerman said:

"Yes, the Bruno/Eminem incident was staged. That's all anyone wants to talk about, so let's get it out of the way. They rehearsed it at dress and yes, it went as far as it did on the live show then. Okay, you can stop reading this blog now!"

So, there that is.

Between heartwarming 3D animated joy, to guys with guns, to Bruno's anus, Sunday night was fun.

I think I can beat Mike Tyson OR: My life in Math

As it stands, I'd put myself firmly on the "casual" side of video gaming. I get myself a new console approx. every 1 1/2 console cycles or so, and usually purchase no more than about 5 games for it. But it wasn't always this way. Some of my fondest childhood memories involve Nintendo's classic little grey box. I can remember the winter after "The Wizard" came out, finally getting my hands on Super Mario Bros. 3 (the WiiFit of that era, in terms of calculated hype and even more calculated hard-to-findedness), sitting listening to my also recently obtained cassette of Kid N Play's "Funhouse" album over and over and trying to master SMB3. I don't know that I ever did. Then, and still now, I lack sticktoitiveness. But it's the journey, not the destination, right? I knew what happened. Bowser fell through bricks, the Princess was something of a cock tease, See you all next year.
Regardless, this was the equation for fun, back in '90:



Now that I'm a little older, a little wiser, and my tastes have gotten more sophisticated, the same equation has now more like this:


At this point, I think I should mention to my readers, and my mum, that that last scandalous mathematical equation was a joke.
The truth, albeit less exciting is a lot more like this:



...or even more recently, much to my own shame for being so in line with my particular age demographic:



ANYways, math problems aside, I'm a pretty limited gamer these days. Of the current gen systems, I only have a Wii. There are only a handful a series' I care about, and I only recently (like 2 weeks ago) found a first person shooter¹ that I actually liked. Although, One title I've consistently found myself returning to, with the same enthusiasm and zeal as when I first played it, is the NES's "Mike Tyson²'s Punch Out!!".
Which is why I'm so excited to see this:





Even after the releases of Street Fighter 4 (PS3 & 360), Grand Theft Auto 4 (PS3 & 360) & Mortal Kombat vs. DC Universe (PS3 & 360) I'm happy I chose to get a Wii, because of games like this. Also, I've still never beat the original. Piston Honda is a vengeful rat bastard. But maybe with this new incarnation, I'll finally have my much sought after glory. I may even buy a pair of these.

Oh, It's on.




¹ Which is the dominant genre in video gaming these days. A lot has been said about what that says about us as a culture, that facilitating fantasies of murder; simply running around various terrains with various weapons shooting the crap out of each other, are the most popular games in the multi-billion dollar gaming industry. But, from where I'm standing it comes down to this: After smoking weed, sneaking up on someone and shooting them in the dick is FUCKING FUNNY. It absolutely never gets old. However, It could just as easily be a pie throwing game, where you could sneak up and pie people, and it would provide the same level of comedy and satisfaction. However, they don't make that game, and until they do, we're stuck with guns and war and bloodiness. C'est la vie.

² Even though, as Mike Tyson isn't (and perhaps never was) a good character to put into a PG rated kid's video game, and Nintendo has removed all trace of him from subsequent re-releases, sequels and virtual console releases, it'll always be "Mike Tyson's Punch-Out!!" to me.
For more on Mike Tyson, check out this interesting documentary/extended interview HERE. It was brought to my attention to ?uestlove of The Roots, and his every-10-minutes Twitter account.

Gettin' my prolific on Or: Writes on Writes!!

I've been doing my best to keep writing in recent days, but not very much of the output seems to be landing on this lowly blog. But don't fret, this will not be just abandoned like Mambo About Masonry (Just playing, REAL TALK - Mark is currently killing it on both SHARP for men, and The Format, so you know, he's a little busy). I've been working on a few projects, and there are a few new sites I've been contributing to. (and then there's that movie script...)

Last week, the cleverly named Punk News site, Punknews.org published a review of Atmosphere's "When Life Gives You Lemons...", which can be found HERE.

I've also started writing reviews on businesses and restaurants for Yelp.ca . You can see my review of colorful Queen West staple Michael's Restaurant HERE, and another review of my favorite spot for food in all of California, Roscoe's Chicken and Waffles, HERE.

Also, I wrote another fun Hamburger review for HamBlogger, which should be going up any second now...*cough*

So, I've been keeping busy on the writing front, but I hope to have more of it be on here. So keep checking back, and I'll actually finish more of the things I start. Honest engine. Freals. Real Talk.

SNIKT! OR: How to avoid disappointment while watching Wolverine (Workprint edition)

(I should mention, for anyone who has a vested interest in seeing Xmen Origins: Wolverine in the theatre, you may want to avoid this post. There are only minor spoilers ahead, mainly in reguard to the movie being a disappointment, but if you want to go into it fresh, maybe stop here)


I, like many other people in the early morning of this years April fools day, came across a link on their Pirate site of choice, which apparently lead to a leaked work print of the new X-Men Origins: Wolverine. "What? This has got to be a joke..." I remember thinking as I clicked the link, getting myself ready to watch some Rick Astley.

But then the movie started, and the rest, they say, is the biggest leak in history.

Now, as Iron Man and Dark Knight showed us, it's really not that hard to do a comic book movie that will remain at least halfway faithful to the comic. In the case of Jon Favreau's Iron Man especially, making little nods to longtime comic fans is half of the charm in that movie.
XO:Wolverine does not do that. At all.
Deadpool never makes a 4-th wall breaking quip about being in a movie, Emma Frost doesn't use any telepathy, and to paraphrase Simon Pegg; the Blob makes X-3's Rick-Jamesian Juggernaut look like Ice Cube from Boyz N The Hood.

But, that doesn't make the movie unwatchable.
You just need to keep a few things in mind while watching.
So, if you have any foreknowledge of the comics, or possess some semblance of common sense, and plan to watch the leaked workprint of X-Men Origins: Wolverine, heres a few pointers to make the film more enjoyable:

• Pretend Will.i.am isn't Will.i.am, but a friend of yours. That way you A) won't feel stupid for watching a movie featuring the terrible acting of the guy who wrote "my humps", and B) you'll be stoked to see your friend in a major motion picture.
  
  
• Use your mind's Charlie Brown filter, and instead of making teachers sound like Trombones, make anyone who says the word "DeadPool" say "Another mutant who is in no way connected to DeadPool". The character in the film is only Deadpool in name only, so if you can filter that out, you're golden.Also, give Gambit an accent of some sort while you're at it.
  
  
• Ignore the part where they say the only way to kill Wolverine is with an adamantium bullet like he's the fucking wolf man. I mean, the movie itself contradicts that statement later on anyways.
  
  
• It should go without saying that suspention of disbelief is essential to enjoying a comic book movie, but suspension of common sense is sometimes essential for this one. So, when someone describes a "deserted secret island", just take it for granted that ambulances and fire trucks can drive there, and people can walk on and off of it (despite originally getting there via jumping out of a plane).
  
  
• Actually, remember when I said to pretend DeadPool is "Another mutant besides Deadpool"? Maybe instead make that "Cybernetic Robot version of Baraka from Mortal Kombat II". Just tell yourself that William Styker is a big MK fan from back in the day and made a giant robot Baraka as a means of dispatching Wolverine. Then When he watches everything through Deadpool Another Mutant Robo-Baraka's eyes like POV porn and commands him with c:/ prompts, it won't seem so batshit ridiculous.
  
• Also, if you're aware of them, forget anything you may know about the fate of Agent Hoover in Preacher, or the death of Darth Maul in Star Wars episode 1. This will make endings for certain characters presented in XO:Wolverine seem original (and with lazer beams!!)
  

Well, I think that about covers it. I've probably come off alot more like Comic Book Guy from the Simpsons as usual in this little diatribe, but I do this for your benefit. Enjoy the movie!

Quick one while he's away bored OR: New Taglines!

It's another one of my over abundance of days off, and the weather outside makes me feel like I live in the Pacific Northwest as oppose to Downtown Toronto. I know I've talked shit on S.A.D. in the past, but lousy weather really can be a good demotivator, and when you're as lazy as I am, you'll take any excuse.

Anyway, I made a couple of new tag lines (the primarily sarcastic catch phrases that appear at random under the blog's semi-nonsensical title), so hit F5 and see if you can spot the new magic.

If you're really dying for some more new writing (and really why else would you be here...), Punknews.org published another review of mine, for Atmosphere's "When Life Gives You Lemons..." album, and you can read that HERE.

Let the Right One In OR: How Hollywood can save this troublesome picture.

I'd been hearing about the Swedish Vampire film "Let the Right One In" for quite a few months, and it just seemed like one of those films that got past me. I'd heard nothing but good things, but just never got around to seeing it. It got to the point where people would bring up certain plot points to me, apropos of nothing, purely under the assumption I had already seen it.

So, last night, enough was enough, I remedied the situation and watched it.



And you know what? It was one of those rare instances where the majority was right. It was totally great. It was the complete antithesis of what I imagine those fucking Twilight things are like. Beautifully shot, plenty of subtlety, complex characterization.

It was like "My Girl" with vampires.
Except replace Poetry slams with severed limbs, and blood brothers with blood feasting.

Oh, and (spoilers!) neither of the main characters get killed by fuckin' Bees.

The point is, you get the same heartwarming feeling from the film that you'd get from a kids movie, but all the decapitations and blood of a horror movie remain intact.
The perfect mix of "awww." and "AWW!!".

Apparently the subtitles on the North American release were pretty severely buggered, and the company responsible is reissuing it with the proper subs, so I look forward to rewatching it to see any differences that may reflect the overall tone of the film.

One thing I'm really looking forward to though, is the upcoming Hollywood remake. Maybe they can get Dakota Fanning (fresh off her confusing "Dakota Fanning getting raped" movie ) to play Eli and a few of of those High School Musical kids to play the bullies, and instead of a massacres, there could be auto-tune singing and dance offs. Instead of feasting on blood, Eli would have an insatiable hunger for Burger King™ combo meals. Oskar and Eli could text each other about how being 13 is the most important time in their whole lives and write TL4E on each others Disney™ Trapper Keepers.

I mean, that would solve everything wrong with the movie...

The McGangBang OR: Now I'll have to call the rest of my burgers "McSingles", like soldiers call people "Civilians"

Note: This piece was originally written for, and appears on HamBlogger. Please visit HamBlogger for many more articles, musings and reviews of Burgers from correspondents around the world, both ridiculous and non-ridiculous alike.



Every once in a great while, a food product is created or invented that brings people together in their collective curiosity. Crystal Pepsi, the McRib, the Double Decker Taco, those Oreos that turned milk blue for some reason...

I can now say that food product du jour is, without question the "McGangBang". "What the devil is a McGangBang?" you ask?

Urban Dictionary describes it as:

"A double Cheeseburger and McChicken. Simply split the double cheeseburger between the two meat patties and place the McChicken in between the two meat patties and enjoy. Both dollar menu items."

Or, more simply:



As with any phenomenon born on the Internet, the history of the McGangBang is fuzzy at best, but most more prevalent theory seems to have it originated in Daytona Beach, Florida (which, if you're keeping score, means Florida birthed Limp Bizkit, the 2000 election, and now this...). It's popularity has grown leaps and bounds in past months, appearing on thisiswhyyourefat.com, Message boards and Twitter posts. Several YouTube videos have also popped up, all trying to be the first in their area to order one "by name" at a McDonalds restaurant or drive-thru, and have their order processed properly, much to the chegrin of many McEmployees. Perhaps the ultimate goal, is to have it become something all McDonalds employees know how to make, much like In-N-Out's famous "secret menu" items. The McGangBang: Ask for it by name.

After much reading up on the subject, my interest was piqued and I could wait no further. Today was the day. I was going to walk to my local McDonalds and try a McGangBang for myself.

I walked into the McDonalds, not drinking anything on the way over for fear of compromising my palette, and ruining this new taste sensation. Never has a trip to the golden arches felt so scientific. I ordered "A Double Cheese Burger and a Junior Chicken, please", and in my daydream the employees would excitedly ask "Are you making a McGangBang!?!" In reality though, the lady behind the counter held up 8 fingers and asked if I wanted 8 Double Cheeseburgers.
"Ahh, No thanks, just one."

It was a fairly busy McDonalds location this afternoon, I believe they were conducting interviews at the time, so I immediately got self conscious about not only constructing such a gluttonous sandwich, but then exacerbating the situation by taking photographs. I took the most remote seat I could find. I then sat down, carefully constructed the sandwich (the melty cheese is the biggest obstacle) and quietly snapped a few pictures. I then took a deep breath, and then took the plunge.


The first bite is confusing. Jarring, almost. You have to open you're mouth really wide. One would expect you'd be tasting mostly bun, but the flavors shine through quite well. It's alot to take in at first, But you do taste both the burger patties and the chicken, although the chicken is more subtle. You also taste ketchup and mayo and pickles. It's surprisingly tasty. The often used "It's a party in your mouth, and everyones invited!" description held true.

As I continued, I decided that unlike most of the much hyped fast food freakshow items, this actually wasn't so bad. I may live to experience one or several more McGangBangs. The look of it half eaten isn't a pretty one, but one can't argue taste. Another odd effect was how filling it was. For me, trips to McDonalds usually involve more food items than just 2 value menu burgers, but I was massively full after just one McGB (priced at a meager $2.78).

So there it is. I left the McDonalds victorious. I had heroically conquered the beast. I felt like Superman, if he had swallowed a 5-pin bowling ball.

Viva La McGangBang.

When Laughs come from a place of genuine frustration OR: Missed Connection Update!

So, remember a couple of weeks ago when I posted that Craig's list Missed Connection, about the obnoxious shrieking hose-beast behind me at Edgar Wright fest (found here)?

Well, I guess more that a few people ended up liking my little rant. I got a couple of replies on craigslist, and several e-mails congratulating me on a well written piece. It got posted to official Bloor Cinema Facebook Page by the theatre's general manager. I even got one asking if it could be included in a play that someone was writing. So, needless to say, the reaction was exciting.

Although one reply still alluded me.
Not that I thought this person particularly read anything, much less the local "Missed Connections", but then a few days ago, I got this:

I am sure that i'm the girl at the Bloor

Just so you know it wasn't my phone ringing it was Rasputin from Boney M

My friend Facebook-ed me the link to your comment. he knew it was me cause he was sitting behind me..

Your message is too funny.

I don't think the marriage thing would work out but I'm not against being friends.

find me on facebook if you are on it

(She then put her name.)

Really?? Really. Huh.
Was alluding to putting her face through a wall too subtle?

A six year old with a cardboard box, selling a "frank appraisal of your looks" OR: Boycott cocaine the pissing Calvin

Me, Calvin and Hobbes go way back*.
I don't remember exactly how we were first introduced, but I think it was around the 3rd grade. I became addicted to spaceman spiff, the transmogrifyer, stupendous man, the snowmen, and of course G.R.O.S.S.'s president-for-life and first tiger. Now, as someone with all the books, the hardbound collectors set, and a Calvin and Hobbes tattoo, my respect for not only the work, but the spirit and integrity of Bill Watterson has only grown in leaps and bounds over the years.

I mean here's a guy that could now be swimming in a indoor pool of gold and diamonds, for the sheer marketability of his creations. If not for Watterson's strict anti-merchandising stance, there could have been any number of TV series', shitty Sega Genesis games, stuffed replica Hobbes, etc (Garfields with suction-cup hands anyone?). But what nobody counted on was the man's admirable and steadfast integrity.
Perhaps more than anyone else, he's a guy who's hand I'd like to shake, but have such respect for his much-guarded privacy, that I wouldn't try.

In the parlance of current-day Kevin Smith, He's very Gretzky.



C+H ended off at it's peak in 1995, on a fairly wide-open yet auspicious note, leaving many to wonder what the future held for the duo.

One theory that Calvin went onto become the narrator (Or "Jack") in the book-turned-film "Fight Club" was theorized by Mr. Galvin P. Chow and grew in popularity over the internet. While I'm sure it's not not what Watterson nor Palahnuik had in mind exactly, but the correlations are too many to not be an amusing read. You can find that theory in "You do Not talk about Fight Club" or in it's original place of publish HERE.

Others use Calvin's imagination for cheap gags regarding his coming of age years. (here and here)

and lastly there was this picture, Posted in the Digg community, that I think has come closest to the Magic of the original comic...


Unlike Jay-Z, Michael Jordan or the Get-Up Kids, whose retirements didn't take, or were never meant to, Bill Watterson will likely never revisit Calvin and Hobbes. Whether it's Bill Russel level curmudgeonry, or a desire to not see his magnum opus pimped out like Charles Shultz or Jim Davis before him, or just an admirable commitment to artistic integrity, it seems now after just over 13 years, it's safe to say Watterson is happily retired.
But it's a true testament to it's lasting impression that we've now gone longer since Calvin and Hobbes ended than we had with them, and people still want to know whats happening with the imaginative six year old and his stuffed companion.





* Unintentional Pun.

Coffee? OR: Bordom breeds passive contempt

Recently I attended Bloor Cinema's launch of the Toronto's "Wright Stuff" film series, curated by Mr. Edgar Wright, director of Shaun of the Dead, Hot Fuzz, and a series thats very dear to my heart, the wonderful Spaced.
Launch night was a double bill of Shaun of the Dead and Hot Fuzz, and it was there that I had a missed connection with the woman of my nightmares dreams.

You sat behind me at Saturday's Edgar Wright double bill at the Bloor Cinema. I didn't notice you during Shaun of the Dead, which I was able to enjoy with relative peace. You came into my world during Hot Fuzz, a movie which you clearly enjoy, as you felt it necessary to shout every line at the screen as it was happening, in a hackneyed british accent. Everytime I thought you might have left or passed out, I'd be blissfully reminded with a clever shriek of "HOMOS!!" or "YEAH BOOBS!!" that would penetrate my soul and cause my fists to clench uncontrolably. Your intolerable wails continued for the duration of the film, your shrill, piercing squawks accenting every joke of Mr. Wright's film. My attention couldn't help but be divided between trying to enjoy the film, and trying to conceive of a way to tell you to shut the fuck up without the guy you were with getting all alpha-male on me and defending your honor. By the end of it all I would have rather listened to the death rattle of a newborn baby than another one of your abhorrent screams.

But then the strangest thing happened. I think it was around the time your cell phone wouldn't stop going off during Edgar's Q&A, that I realized I didn't want to put your face through a wall, so much as I wanted to spend the rest of my life with you. I imagined a lifetime of ruined movies. All my DVDs would now have an extra unwanted commentary track, and take on whole new miserable meanings. We would get married and go on long walks on the beach where you would shout "BULLSHIT!!" at sunrises. We would go to funerals of loved ones, where you could scream "Hurry up, Faggots!" at the pallbearers.

It would be a life where silence was an abstract concept as oppose to an attainable reality. You could be the nails on my chalkboard.

But perhaps I'm getting ahead of myself.

Coffee?

You can find the original Missed Connection Here

Pop culture ramble # 72814 OR: Why Mickey was Robbed

Watching the 81st annual Oscars last night was not nearly as painful as I had thought. Sure, Hugh Jackman's grandiose production numbers were a touch embarrassing (Wolverine doesn't sing and dance in tails, guy), but the show in and of itself wasn't that bad. Sure, it's Hollywood being self congratulatory, but everyone loves movies, and theres nothing wrong with celebrating the medium every so often. I think the worst part of any award show is the peripheral pre and post shows, where culturally bankrupt media outlets send their shallowest correspondents to try and drum up enthusiasm for celebrities and judge them based on what their stylist picked out for them to wear.

Natalie is STOKED to be photographed.

So I skipped the part where they revive Joan Rivers and drag her reanimated corpse around to sass people with actual careers (or do they just rely on bitchy overweight gays to MSpaint cum on their mouths now? thus lowering the bar even further...), and just watched the damn show.

(search for "Zombie Joan Rivers", and you get this)

Bullet Points!!

• Ben Stiller's Joaquin Phoenix impression was amusing, but isn't parodying a parody a little much? Joaquin's whole Letterman fiasco couldn't have been more obviously staged (as a part of the mockumentary he's making with Casey Affleck). In parodying a movie that hasn't even been released, Stiller's kind of getting into Jason Friedberg & Aaron Seltzer territory. Eep.
  
  
• Is it just me, or was the evenings big winner, Slumdog Millionaire, just like a more mainstream accessible version of City of God?
  
  
  
• As my title indicates, Mickey Rourke was robbed, and I think everyone knows it. Sean Penn, while a competent albeit overrated actor, was playing the part of a real person. All Penn had to do was watch the documentary about his life and learn a few of his mannerisms. The audiences pre-awareness of the actual person does the leg work. It's basically just doing an impression. Whereas Mickey had to invent a character. Perhaps Randy "The Ram" Robinson doesn't have the same kind of depth as Harvey Milk, but The Ram was a total fuck up, and Mickey Rourke made you care about him. I had more invested in The Ram in half of 1 movie than I did in Rocky after 6 movies.
  
  Plus, who else can rock not only a pinky ring, but Dentures with a silver tooth??
  I mean really.
  
  Heres the acceptence speech from his win at the independant spirit awards, why couldn't this have happened at the oscars? damn...
  
  
  
• And lastly...
  
  Well deserved.
  

What If: Forrest Gump led a rag tag group of soldiers OR: Oh Hi, Inglorious Basterds Trailer!

So THIS is what Quentin Tarantino has been doing when he isn't busy not making the motherfucking Kill Bill special edition fucking DVD, already.

heh, Hitler.
Neat.

21st Century Breakdown OR: Can Banksy sue people?

Not sure how I feel about the title/cover. From what I've heard (and now seen) it's shaping up to cover many of the same themes as American Idiot.

That said, new music from Green Day is never not exciting.

The Cheese went bad OR: Hey, Fuck You Michael Cera!

Imagine a world where people have memories 2 months long. Where sheer repetition is applauded and mediocrity holds sway. Imagine a world where people absolutely never tire of stories featuring nervous, awkward 19-24 year old protagonists.

This is the world in which Michael Cera lives.


The AV club reported this week as a part of their "Weekly Buzzkills" (on a story that MTV news picked up on) that apparently Michael Cera continues to be the lone hold-out on the much anticipated "Arrested Development" movie. Apparently now that he's a big movie star, he has better things to do that appease the very people who got him there.

Don't get me wrong, I've enjoyed his stuff thus far (I mean cripes, I was Paulie Bleeker for Halloween), but I imagine he thinks that people are never going to get sick of him playing a nervous kid in his late teens or early twenties. That theres a never ending torrent of scripts being mailed to right his front door where he just needs to show up and be charmingly befuddled. But, the truth is he's been stretching whats basically 1 character for an entire TV show run, 3 big movies and a web series.


Not even Pauly Shore kept peoples interest with 1 character for that long.
Some actors can, but Michael Cera isn't Woody Allen, or even Stephen Wright. He's Pauly Shore, and right now is about time that the short-lived "Pauly" is being canceled and people are starting to go "...you know what? Fuck the Weasel!"

"Well, maybe he's TRYING to get away from that one character, hence not wanting to reprise it in an Arrested Development Movie..."

I hear you Italics, but now that the cat's already been let out of the bag, it's kind of a bitch move to not do the movie. I mean, Bill Murray has been nominated for an Oscar, and is still down for Ghostbusters 3, and this guy is too too cool for school already?

What he should do is triumphantly return to the role that thrust him into the spotlight, and then move onto being a jittery bomb disarmer or badass with a heart of gold eskimo fireman, or a Jive Talking Robot , or whatever the devil it is he wants to do. Retire the awkward teen, but not before you send George Michael Bluth out with a bang. It's well deserved. He's been waiting for a bang for several years now. Make it happen.



ps. I should also mention: If this post contains anything that may bother, or be in any way disagreeable to one Miss. Ellen Page, I can take it down. Seriously. I don't mean to dis your boy. Nothing but love for ya, boo.

Oh No You Didn't! OR: YES WE DID

As I write this I'm just arriving home from watching Barack Obama's historic inauguration at a jam-packed Bloor Cinema, with chants of "Yes We Can" from fellow jubilant onlookers still ringing in my ears (along with the less rousing "We will, We will Barack You!"). While not quite Washington, I felt as close as I could be with the thousand or so people watching, cheering, booing and laughing. It was a celebration (bitches).

What was most surprising was not only the sheer amount of people, but also the diversity in the crowd. Not only were there the expected college-age political nerds and abroad Americans, but also many elderly folk, business types, toddlers in OBEY-styled Obama shirts and even a school field trip or two.

Seeing it with a crowd really emphasized many of the more memorable moments; The unabashed cheering when Obama was sworn in. The laughs provided by the bible big enough to bludgeon an infant to death with that Joe Biden used to be sworn in on. The boos, hisses and chants that accompanied every shot of now ex-president George w. Bush, and that purple and yellow scarf/turtleneck combo that made him resemble a Batman Villain. Most of all the heartfelt applause that trailed every line of Obama's first speech as President.

It was definitely a morning I didn't regret getting out of bed early for.
Heres to the next 4 years being better than the last 8.

- Matt,
Self-appointed Canadian Ambassedor for Good-Times, Obama Adminestration

ps.

I shot this video for all who couldn't attend. The Oath and subsequent reaction. Enjoy!