Breaking News: Brett Favre is NOT the Center of the Universe

Above: Favre Spotting a Wide-Open Defensive Back

After extensive research, scientists independent of the NFL, ESPN and Fox Sports have determined that Brett Favre is, in fact, not the center of the universe.

“He does appear to be the center of Green Bay, Wisconsin,” one scientist confirmed, “but our studies show that even with the copious attention that he draws, he is not the center of the universe.  Yet.”

According to the leader of the research team, their methods included conjuring the spirits of historical astronomers Copernicus and Galileo to corroborate their findings.  To the scientist’s surprise, the exorbitant coverage of Favre’s attempted un-retirement had apparently even reached into the afterlife.

“The first thing Copernicus told us was, ‘Of course he’s the center of the universe,’” the lead scientist said.  “We had to remind him of his own Heliocentric model of the solar system–flawed in its own right, but certainly better than the Favrecentric view we were trying to discredit.  Then Galileo said, ‘But, surely the gravitational pull of all those championship rings altered the structure of the cosmos.’  To which I said no, all one of his Super Bowl rings is actually pretty insignifcant on a cosmic scale.  He’s a great player and all, but when the media refers to him as a ’star’ they’re using the term figuratively.  Or at least, they’re supposed to.  Anyway, both astronomers seemed very surprised to find out that Brett only had one ring, as opposed to the dozens of Super Bowl rings, several World Series rings, two Stanley Cups and the Nobel Prize for Arm Strength that they’d been led to believe he had.”

When approached for comment, ESPN had this to say: “Brett Favre Brett Favre Brett Favre Brett Favre Brett Favre Brett Favre Brett Favre Brett Favre Brett Favre Brett Favre Brett Favre Brett Favre Brett Favre Brett Favre BRETT FREAKING FAVRE!“

More on this story as details emerge.

Dear Eddie (An Open Letter From a Concerned Citizen)

Dear Eddie Murphy,

What the hell, man?  Meet Dave made $5.3 million in its opening weekend, or just a skosh over 10% of its production budget.  It’ll be lucky to crack the $15 million mark by the end of its run.  For most comedic actors this would be shaping up to be the most embarrassing box office flop of their careers, but you’ve already got Pluto Nash under your belt, a flick that cost brain-smelting $110 million to make and grossed $7 million theatrically (worldwide!) and $25 million when counting DVD sales & rentals.  A film that also featured you as a character from outer space, might I add.  You’d think you’d learn from that, but apparently you thought that was a fluke and that the movie going public was clamoring for a sci-fi based slapstick comedy.  Which brings me back to my original point…

What the hell, man?!!

Do you realize that in the last 10 years your funniest roles have been animated characters?  Donkey and Mushu, those are the top two highlights of your resume since 1998.  Donkey and Mushu.  Sounds like the title to a children’s book that a 5-year-old came up with.  To quote your character from Life (the 1 funny live-action movie you’ve done in the last decade), there are “consequences and repercussions” for picking terrible roles.  Holy Man, Bowfinger, Daddy Day Care.  There’s no way those scripts looked good Eddie. 

Your brother is funnier than you now Eddie.  It’s not even debatable.  Nobody even knew he existed 5 years ago, and now if you gave any grown man a choice between watching a movie starring Charlie Murphy or one starring Eddie Murphy, and provided no other information about the plot or supporting actors or anything, 8 out of 10 would pick the Charlie Murphy movie.  8 out of 10.  I can’t substantiate those numbers at all, but who would disagree?

You’re in Shawn and Marlon Wayans Territory now, Eddie.  Not approaching it, but in it, settling down and buying beachfront condos and running for public office and shit. 

Remember when you were one of the most popular comedians in the history of popular comedians?  When you single-handedly kept SNL watchable during some years so lean it made the Olsen twins look like actual human beings (as opposed to twin-Smeagols with wigs and makeup)?  Remember how hilarious Raw and Delirious managed to be despite the uncomfortable abundance of homophobia and misogyny and the oddly nostalgiac commentary on domestic violence? 

Remember Beverly Hills Cop, Eddie?  Hell, I’ll even give you part 2.  Of course there’s also 48 Hours, Trading Places, and Coming to America (where you perfected the multiple roles bit that you’ve since beaten to death, then killed yourself so you could follw it into the afterlife to continue the beating). 

Good movies, Eddie.  Remember making good movies?  Surely you care at least a little bit about your legacy.  You won a Golden Globe just two years ago for your role in Dreamgirls after all, and based on some reports you charged out of the Oscars like you were late for an appointment to kill somebody after losing the Best Supporting Actor award to Alan Alda.  So part of you obviously cares.

And yet, when I look at your upcoming films, I see two animated features (one of which comes in a movie series that already has one unnecessary sequel), a fourth Beverly Hills Cop movie (even though you dissed part 3 yourself in your Inside the Actors Studio interview) and some new damn kids movie that has a plot similar enough to The Haunted Mansion that I can anticipate it being moderately lousy at best.

Eddie… heaven’s sake, man… I’m this close to scheduling an intervention.  I know that just about every comedian goes through the “I Get Older and My Movies Start to Suck” phase, but what you’re going through is epic.  Motherfucking The Iliad epic.  There’s one thing to go through a career slump, but it’s another to make a second career out of slumping itself. 

I need you to get on the phone with Judd Apatow, Eddie, before it’s too late.  Sure his sex-drugs-and-other-taboos-driven, crass-comedy-with-a-heart formula is gradually wearing thinner, but that’s what would make the partnership so good.  Let’s be real, you helped make some of that comedy acceptable in the mainstream in the first place.  Imagine this advertisement: “The makers of Knocked Up and Superbad bring you Eddie Murphy at his raw, delerious best!”  Think of the anticipation for that movie.  Just typing that sentence set my mind ablaze from all the potential hilarity.

Just consider it Eddie.  Please.  It’s for your own good.

4 Common Examples of Terrible, Terrible Office Humor

Every office has at least one “funny” guy who always tries to brighten everyone’s Monday with material he’s been working on all weekend.  The one who quotes jokes verbatim from actual comedians and tries to pass it off as his own (when you encounter this specific situation, you should let this person get all the way through his little stolen set and then say, “That’s funny.  That was from Brian Regan’s comedy special right?  I saw that on Youtube about a year ago.”  If you look closely you can actually see the sparkle of life in his eyes snuffed out.)

The problem with this dude isn’t just that he exists, but that other people in the office tolerate him.  Some even encourage him, and still others begin to emulate him.  And given how much the daily grind already sucks, having to step into an office teeming with unreasonably cheerful, anti-hilarious people telling jokes that make the comedy gods stop believing in themselves just makes the work week absolutely intolerable.

So in the interest of saving the sanity of those suffering through the jokes, and saving the dignity of those telling them,  I’m providing four examples of mega-lame attempts at humor commonly found in office buildings around America.  If you hear someone making these jokes, you hereby have permission to punch them in the face, and if you’re one of the people who likes telling these jokes, you hereby have permission to go to hell…

4. Any References to Office Space

This movie came out in 1999.  It’s almost ten years old, all right?  Ten years.  You know how many Bill Lumbergh impressions I’ve seen before yours?  Do you?!  HUH!!?  SHUT YOUR MOUTH!!  I WILL DESTROY YOU!!!!

….*ahem*…. My bad.  It’s just, you can only listen to so many impersonations of, ”Yyyyyeah, I’m also gonna need you to go ahead and come in on Sunday,” before you start daydreaming about uppercutting people’s heads off.  If you Youtube “Bill Lumbergh” there are roughly 500 “Look at Me!  I’m Bill Lumbergh!” videos posted that are all different and yet - paradox of paradoxes - are all exactly the same.  Hold your coffee, drag out the “yeah,” and finish off every other sentence with “Great.”  That’s it.  Give me 10 minutes and I can train a decapitated monkey to do a Lumbergh impression that is at least equal to yours.  Let it go.

I’m also issuing a moratorium on any references to “TPS Reports” and any jokes about “That’s my stapler.”  “Didn’t you get the memo” gets a free pass because it was referenced in Batman Begins, meaning it can never be uncool, but don’t overdo it…

3. ”Back Already?” Jokes… 

This happens when you’ve left the office for the day, but then realize you’ve forgotten something back at your desk, so you go back to get it.  That’s when the dude sitting in the cubicle next to yours says something along the lines of, “Already back huh?  Just can’t stay away from the office, can you?  I wish I had your work ethic.  Then again I don’t.  Eh?  Eh?  ‘Cause then I wouldn’t have a life outside of work.  Which is what I’m implying is the case for you.  Ha!” 

“Yeah, you know what’s not funny about that?  I was already in the parking lot when I realized that I’d left my cell phone up here, so I had to come all the way back up to the 5th floor to get it, and I’m already irritated because of that.  So while I casually contemplate the pros and cons of bludgeoning you to death with a Nokia, it might be wise of you to shut the hell up.”

2. “Did You Bring Enough For Everyone?” Jokes

You’re liable to face this anytime you bring name-brand food into the office.  Breakfast, lunch, snack, it doesn’t matter.  You’re subject to hear any of the following:

“Did you bring enough for everyone?”

“What’d you bring me?”

“How did you know I was hungry?  Thanks!”

“Smells good.  You better be careful, ha ha ha ha!”

Did you just threaten to steal my lunch?  The lunch that I paid for, that I’m trying to eat in peace, that I only brought back to the office because I’m overloaded with work and can’t afford to spend an hour unchained from my desk?  How is that humorous?  Why would that amuse you?  See, THIS sort of thing is why you’re fat.  You eat so frequently that food is just a joke to you, the way $1 bills are a joke to rich people.  If you stepped away from a meal or two you’d better appreciate how precious a man’s lunch is to him and wouldn’t be making jokes about yoinking it from him.

(Okay, that was unfair.  Fat people aren’t the only ones who make this joke - but if you say the above to a skinny person it’ll really screw with their head.  Btw, I’m not at all a weight-ist person.  Some of my best friends are fat.  I’ve dated fat girls.  I’m not weight-ist.)

1. “See You Next Year…”

Every time I start a new job I warn everyone within the 1st week that, come December 31st, I better not hear this shit.  Co-workers, Supervisors, Upper Management, CEO, anyone who I might see on New Year’s Eve gets the word.  I explicitly state that I cannot be held accountable for my actions if someone heedlessly utters “See you next year!” within earshot of me on New Year’s Eve.  I can only speculate, but I believe that the issuance of this and attention paid to it has averted several of tragedies.  However, if you wake up one New Year’s morning and see an indescribably gruesome photo splashed on the front page of USA Today below the Headline, “Texas Man Literally Bites Coworker’s Head Off,” you’ll have a pretty good idea of why it happened.

Some people need to have it explained to them that just because it’s cute when their 5-year-old says it, that doesn’t mean it’s cute when an adult says it.  After all, little kids have patently horrible senses of humor.  When I was 8-years-old I saw the commercials for Leonard Part 6 and thought it looked promising.  I asked my mom to take me to see it and she grounded me for a month then told me to never speak of it again.  Not a day goes by that I don’t thank her for that. 

I actually think a lot of lousy office humor can be traced back to childhood.  Today’s 10-year-old whose parents let him see Meet the Spartans is tomorrow’s toolbag who thinks any random movie quote is inherently funny, especially if you say it 5 times an hour, every hour all the live-long gotdamn day.   

Or maybe it isn’t the parents’ fault.  Maybe that dude was just destined to be an insufferable twit whose presence alone is enough to infect others with his insufferable twititude.  It doesn’t matter who’s to blame, really.  It just matters that we all come together to stop it. 

I beseech thee, do your part to put an end to lame office humor. 

Quick Rant: No… No… He Really Isn’t Jordan…

I swear to all appropriate deities - and even those that are inappropriate - this is not a “bashing” Kobe article. I’ve always liked Kobe as a player. Even when he demanded the trade and acted like he’d left his mind in El Segundo last summer, I understood why he was behaving that way (nobody expected the same guys who’d played like bums the last few years to suddenly step up to solid contributor status this season). I’m not lashing out at Kobe for us dropping the first 2 games in Boston. I still think, like most others, that he’s the most gifted player in the NBA today.

But it has to be stated: he’s not Jordan. Die hard Kobe fans have been claiming that he is indeed the heir to His Airness for some time and, as stated in this article, many others are starting to hop on the bandwagon, seeing a win in these Finals as the first step toward usurping the throne. ABC color commentator Mark Jackson even went so far as to say that Kobe was as good as Jordan during the Game 1 telecast.

And that’s just stupid. Pure and simple. 100%. It’s not even debatable.

He might get their some fine day (strictly in on-the-court performance - he’ll never be the icon Jordan is, I’ll save that breakdown for another day), but he’s not there right now. Nobody is. You can check the stats for yourself to see how magnificent Mike was, in case you’ve forgotten or weren’t around for all of those incredible performances. What you can infer from the ridiculous point totals and amazing shooting percentages is that Jordan not only knew how to shoot, but when to shoot and how to get a good shot off. He held is own in steals and blocks, which explains all of those First Team All-Defensive selections. But stats don’t really tell the story.

You can view the Youtube clips of classic Jordan games where he managed to scorch opponents and rip their hearts out in high pressure situations. You can listen to interviews from the other legends of the day (like Magic and Bird, the other two members of the Holy-Basketball-Trinity) and hear how their respect for him almost spills over into reverence and awe. But even that won’t really tell the story.

How do you know Michael in his prime was better than Kobe today? Put yourself in this situation:

If you were coaching the Lakers and somehow happened upon a magic wand that would let you trade today’s Kobe for Michael Jordan in his prime, would you make that trade?

Of course you would. Without hesitation. You’d be an idiot not to. And then you’d comfortably enter the playoffs confident that, in today’s game, Jordan might average 45 a night for the entire postseason and will ultimately lead these Lakers to a championship. No question. While most of Kobe’s memorable performances have come during the regular season, Jordan has more exceptional playoff moments than perhaps anyone in history, including a 35 point half in the ‘92 Finals, and ‘93 Finals where Jordan averaged 41 points through 6 games. So you can see how, conversely, if you were Phil Jackson with the Jordan Bulls and came across the same magic wand you wouldn’t give it a second look. You could watch all the footage in the world of Kobe going crazy, hitting incredible shots, dropping 81 points on the hapless Raptors, it doesn’t matter.

You simply wouldn’t trade Jordan for Kobe.

And that’s really all you need to know about who the best still is. The. End.

UPDATE: Mark this on your calendars. June 12th, 2008 Game 4, NBA Finals, Kobe Bryant effectively ends all debate about whether or not he is as good as Michael Jordan. 6 for19 from the field in a MUST WIN game, several misses down the stretch, and permitting his team to choke away a 24 point lead. No way Jordan would have such a Finals performance. No way. Kobe is a great, great player, but Michael Jordan is Michael Jordan.

Unfathomable Dissent: Strip Clubs Are Kind of Wack

So, not too long ago, an acquaintance of mine celebrated their birthday at a local gentleman’s club here in the city.  I had been invited to attend this celebration but I declined because… well, strip clubs are kind of wack.  In my opinion, that is.  I don’t want to knock anyone else’s recreational activity - by all means, if you enjoy the environment then keep on enjoying it.

But I have to take a stand against dudes acting as though disinterest in strip clubs is an offense worthy of Y-Chromosome removal. 

My acquaintance tells me all about his experience the following day.  The unmitigated joy that he and his guests experienced.  The dancing, the nudity, the drinking, the girls.  Oh, the girls were so nice to them all, he said.  “You should’ve gone, bro,” he said.  “You missed out.  I can’t believe you didn’t come.  Why wouldn’t you want to come out and see some girls?”

And here we cross our first misconception that some dudes have about strip clubs; that this is the best - if not only - place to go to see girls.  In truth…

…Girls Can Also Be Found Elsewhere.

Regular clubs, for instance.  And the crazy thing about a girl at a regular club is you don’t necessarily have to pay to dance with her (okay, you might have to buy the girl a drink or two, but often times you need only be charming, or good looking, or both, or just catch her on a good night).  Also, when you dance with her, you can actually dance WITH her.  Sometimes, if they really like you, they let you touch them without calling over Bruiser and Knuckles McMurphy to rough you up and throw you into the street after she already warned you about the club’s hands off policy.

Another thing about girls at the regular club, there’s a much better chance that if they’re showing interest in you, it’s genuine.  Conversely…

…Strippers Don’t Actually Like You.

If a stripper makes you think that she likes you, that just means she’s really good at her job.  Or that you’re reading way too much into a $5 lapdance.  I know the rappers make it sound like it’s routine to take strippers home, but they’re spending hundreds - possibly thousands - of dollars on the girl they want to take home.  They’re not “making it rain” singles, my man.  A pocket full of Washingtons does not a baller make.  You, Mr. Average Dude, have a infinitesimal chance at getting that girl home.  Didn’t you see Player’s Club?  She’s not interested in you, she’s on the clock.  If you ask for her number she’s going laugh it off and say, “You’re so precious,” and then move to the next dude with a twenty on the table. 

If you follow her home - and this is important - she’s going to call the police.

Don’t brag to your boys about a girl you met at a strip club.  Don’t tell stories about how nice she was, how she looked into your eyes when she danced and you could feel a connection and you could tell that she thought you were different.  It’s just sad.  Preach-saying-goodbye-to-Cochise-in-Cooley-High sad.  Tall-building-leaping, cape-wearing, super-sad.

For Example…

All of this may seem harsh, but think about this: if you told a strip club story to your friend but removed the strip club setting, that exchange would go something like this…

“Yo, fam, Jasmine invited me over to the house the other night.  As soon as I walked in, she sat me down in a chair, turned the lights down, put on some music and started dancing for me.”

“For real?”

“Yeah.  It was hot.  Next thing I know, she’s taking off her clothes, dancing on my lap.  Teasing me, telling me not to touch.  Driving me crazy.”

“Damn.  So how was she when you two finally went at it?”

“…huh?”

“When you took her to the bedroom and had sex with her.  How was the sex?”

“Oh… nah, we didn’t go that far.”

“You didn’t?  Why not?  She changed her mind or…?”

“Nah, that was never the intent.  I was just supposed to visit her, watch her dance and then leave.”

“Did you go see another girl after you left Jasmine’s?”

“No.  I just went home with the memory of her dancing in my head as inspiration to… you know… ‘take care of myself.’  You know what I mean?  Eh?  Eh?”

“First off, stop fucking winking at me.  Secondly, what?”

“Trust me, seeing her dance was twenty dollars well spent.”

“Twenty dollars just to see her dance?  Don’t you have Cinemax?  The internet?  There are more cost effective ways to see naked women.”

“Not in person.”

“Does it really matter that it’s ‘in person’ if you can’t touch or do anything with her?  She might as well be a hologram.”

“It matters, all right?  It matters.  What kind of guy doesn’t think seeing naked girls in person is cool, and completely worth it even if you have to pay for it?  What did you end up doing last night anyway?”

“I spent it with my girlfriend.  Having sex.  A lot.  We went to Blockbuster and rented a movie, and then after we got home we stopped watching the movie about halfway through and just started doing it all over the place.  Completely wiped ourselves out.  I had to call in to work today.  That’s how my night went.”

“Well, that’s an okay night.  I guess.  She didn’t dance for you though…”

“… … Man, get the hell out of my house.”

In Conclusion

Strip clubs just aren’t that cool.  Sure, there are exceptions - I’m sure there are awesome, posh joints out there where millionaires congregate to close deals and pick up dates, but for the average dude that you and I know, it’s really nothing special.  If it’s your thing, that’s cool, but don’t talk about it like it was a trip to Vegas or Disney World or the Super Bowl or something. 

If your boy isn’t a fan of the strip club scene it doesn’t mean that he’s gay (NTTAWWT) or less of a man.  He probably just thinks strip clubs are kind of wack.

And you know what… he’s right…

The NBA: Where Conspiracy Theories Happen

The hot topic in the sports after last night’s Game 5 of the NBA Western Conference Finals is whether or not a foul should have been called on Derek Fisher on the last play of the game when he clearly bumped into Brent “I Still Owe You That Dunk Contest Trophy, Mr. Finley” Barry.  People are citing the classic conspiracy theories already: “Stern wants the Lakers in the Finals, they’re a big market team, they have the league’s top superstar, Lakers vs. Celtics will draw huge ratings, etc.”

I am compelled to weigh in.

An admitted Laker fan, my defense of what happened last night may, on the surface, appear to be blatant homerism.  But I’m a basketball fan first.  You want to see egregiously partial officiating: 2002 Western Conference Finals, the Lakers vs. the Kings.  I was watching at a bar with a co-worker who was a Kings fan and I felt obligated to buy him drinks all night to amend for the hideous calls going in favor of my Lakers that game.  It was awful.

The very next year, LA played a Game 3 in the first round against the T-wolves that we should’ve graciously forfeited had we somehow won due to the referee’s wearing purple and gold all night.

Last night, however, was different.  Do not add this one to your manilla Conspiracy Evidence folder my friend.  This was simply a case of bad officiating on all fronts cancelling itself out.

Regarding the “questionable” non-call, my determination is, yes, it probably should have been a two-shot foul (I may grudgingly concede a foul call on the final play of a crucial playoff game with the ball 30-damn-feet from the basket, but there’s no way I’m conceding continuation), but it’s a play that never should have happened in the first place.

As many others have already blogged about before me, Derek Fisher’s jumper on the Lakers’ final posession did get rim.  Grazed, yes, but it hit.  The refs blew that call, creating the threat of a shot clock violation on the ensuing inbounds play, forcing Kobe to jack a shot up when he should have been able and catch the ball and hold it until the inevitable foul.  He goes to the line, hits his free throws (if we’re presuming Barry would hit his and force overtime, then we should also presume Kobe would hit his to put the game away) and that last, controversial play never happens.

Additionally, before the Lakers’ last possession, Tony Parker was beneficiary of a blown goaltending call on Lamar Odom, who cleanly pinned his layup to the backboard.  If Tony isn’t awarded the bucket, LA takes the ball to the other end of the court in a situation where the Spurs are forced to put them on the foul line, where they likely seal the victory.

The Spurs, as an organization, have handled this controversy with their usual class.  Pop said that he wouldn’t have made the call.  Barry didn’t complain about it.  The only people complaining are fans, many of whom aren’t even Spurs fans, just Laker haters.

Fact is, you can’t argue this call without mentioning the above-mentioned blown calls that put the Spurs in that position.  The Spurs know this themselves, which is probably a contributing factor in their refusal to blame their loss on that call.

It’s a non-play.  A phantom.  Stop comparing it to Ginobli’s foul of Nowitzki from Game 7 in the ‘05 semis.  It’s not the same situation (for one, as people are so quick to forget, that wasn’t the last play of the game, or even the quarter: the Spurs had 20 more seconds in regulation, and secondly, the Mavs hadn’t just been given the opportunity courtesy of blown calls against San Antonio). 

UPDATE:

If there is a situation to compare it to, it would be this…

Back to last night, had the call been made and the Spurs gone on to win, people would be rightfully complaining about Fisher’s shot and Odom’s block. 

And stop saying “two wrongs don’t make a right.”  It’s a stupid phrase, it’s never made sense, and even if it did it wouldn’t apply to this situation.

In the end, it all balanced out, and the team that was supposed to win won the damn game.

THE. END.

Quick-Rant: Stop Asking if I Play Basketball…

I used to give people benefit of the doubt, but I have now reached the undeniable conclusion that asking some random tall person if they play basketball is almost always a stupid question.  Here is a short list of times when it’s okay to ask a tall dude if he plays basketball:

1. He’s an acquaintance (co-worker, friend of a friend, etc.) and you’re in a position where you’re trying to start a conversation any way you can just to break the awkward silence.

2. He’s an acquaintance and you want to recruit him for you city-league team, The Central Bank Swishers (he might agree, but you better believe he’ll demand you change the name).

3. He’s 6′8″ or taller and looks athletic and you have a good reason for asking (your kid’s with you and you want to get an autograph if the guy’s a pro, or your kid’s with you and you want to make the guy take a paternity test if he’s a pro).

4. He’s wearing a shirt that says “Ask Me If I Play Basketball” printed on the front, and “No, Seriously, Ask Me If I Play Basketball.  I’m Talking to You.  Don’t You Walk Away From Me Motherf– Man I Will Hunt You Down and Beat The Question Out of You If You Don’t Get Back Over Here and Ask Me if I Play Basketball,” printed on the back.

That’s it.  Under no other circumstances is it okay to ask this question of someone you barely know / don’t know at all.  None.  It’s a stupid, stupid question on multiple levels.  Allow me to assault you with the breakdown of why it’s really so stupid…

I’m Not That Damn Tall 

I’m 6′4″.  Yes, that’s tall in the real world, but not freakish-NBA-talent tall.  Tony Parker is officially listed at 6′2″, and he might be a bit taller.  I walked past him in North Star Mall once (he had his whole French crew with him, parlez-vous-ing francais and eating bon-bons and all that good stuff) and dude was eye-to-eye with me. 

In the Association, Tony is considered a “small” dude.  When you see him on TV you think “Look at that little French, flopping punk. I’d bodyslam him if I ever saw him.”  Then you see him in real life and realize he’s about five inches taller than you, and he’s built pretty solid from working out all damn year (because…you know… he’s a professional athlete) and truth told, if you two got in a fight, he would probably chest-kick you into the nearest bottomless pit right after yelling, “This.  Is.  PARKER!!!”

Recap: 6′2″ - 6′5″ is tall in the real world, but not especially tall in the pro-ball world.

At 6′6″ and up, you start getting into heights that are a little more common in the pro-ball world, but even then… Oh, you’re not asking if I’m a pro?  Just if I play?  Well that leads to…

Why the Hell Are You Asking Anyway?

The only reason to ask is if you’re curious to know if the dude’s a pro, or at least a player for a major local college (and the latter only applies if you’re curious to know if the dude might go pro, or if you thought you recognized him from an ESPN clip you caught the other day). 

Asking for any other reason makes even less sense than randomly asking any person 6′3″ and above if they just happen to be a professional, millionaire, celebrity athlete.  What, you’re asking if I play ball recreationally at gyms, or at parks, or with friends and family on the adjustable, portable goal at the end of the cul-de-sac?  The answer is yes, but there’s not really a height requirement for any of that.  There’s no “You Must Be This Tall to Hoop On This Court” when you step into Gold’s.  Where’s this conversation going?  Is there a point?

I’ve Heard it A Million Times

Some stuff, it’s probably cool to get asked all the time.  If you’re really good-looking and people stay asking, “Do you model?” I’m sure it doesn’t get old.

But the “Do you play basketball?” question has been old to me and any other tall person since high school.  People ask you this though like it’s something they’re sure no one else has ever brought up to you.  Like they’re presenting you with fucking career advice.

“So uh, do you play basketball?”

“No, actually, I don’t.”

“Really?  Well, you should.”

“You think so?”

“Hell yeah, man!  You’re a tall guy!  And… you’re… well, you’re tall!  I mean come on!“

“You’re right!  I am tall!  I’m gonna go buy some Nike Air Maxes and try out for the Lakers!  Thanks, total stranger!”

No.  No.  Go to hell, total stranger.  Burn forever in the pits of the inferno, total stranger. 

Fuck, off, total stranger.

Loving This FANtastic Game Again (or…How the NBA is Coming Back)

Tuesday night’s absolutely dreadful game between the Cavs and Celtics notwithstanding, the Eastern Conference has provided surprisingly competitive and entertaining action in this year’s playoffs. Recapping round 1: The Sixers showed up and actually made Detroit earn the series; Atlanta stunned Boston by forcing a 7th game and gave everyone reason to believe that the young, athletic Hawks could be a factor in the East next year; Orlando’s Dwight Howard showed why he’ll likely be the league’s best big man for years to come (with Chris Bosh putting in his own great performances for Toronto, which make me say “Not so fast my friend” to myself for wanting to enthrone Howard already). And Cavs vs. Wizards, hell, what didn’t it have? Nail-biters, buzzer-beaters, hard fouls, trash talking, bad blood, rapper feuds, Jay-Z freestyle disses, ninjas (Game 5, around the halfway point in the third quarter, go back and watch the tapes if you think I’m making it up).

There was a reason to watch every series. It was great.

The Western Conference, meanwhile, gave us a Lakers sweep (not that I’m complaining), a 1st round Houston departure that was predetermined (the whole “better without Yao” argument was always ridiculous), Dallas reaffirming everyone’s beliefs that they’ve stopped caring about the postseason since getting jobbed in the ‘06 Finals, and the disappointing Spurs vs. Suns series where, after a classic Game 1, we saw the basketball gods declare “Thou shalt not even sniff the reaping of any rewards for a foolish trade,” and cripple Phoenix’s ability to compete. Shaq was supposed to get them over the hump, and instead he just gave us a series where he frequently looked slow and uninspired and more like a liability than an asset (while I’m here, I know people called Hack-a-Shaq bush league and took Coach Pop to task for it, but fuck that, if Shaq could hit even 60% of his free throws nobody would do that shit to him. I’m a Laker fan, I’ll always have love for Shaq, but he brings that on himself).

Still, I can forgive this of the West because we know their Conference Final is going to be a hell of a series to watch (provided it doesn’t somehow end up as Spurs vs. Jazz) and they’re the main reason why we just had the best NBA regular season since the FANtastic 80’s / early 90’s.

Yes. The Association is back. Or at least it’s on its way. We’ve still got the threat of “Spurs vs. Pistons II: The Revenge” potentially coming to a TV screen near us to contend with (ok, bit of a cheap shot there; Jazz vs. Pistons would be a much, MUCH worse series). But we’ve also got the potential for Lakers vs. Celtics, which David Stern is either A) fervently praying for, and perhaps even offering human sacrifices to any available deities to ensure, or B) actively ensuring will take place by vowing to disappear any refs who don’t do everything in their power to make sure it happens.

Stern needed this great NBA season more than anyone, and now he needs a fun, furious postseason. Finally, the association needs fans to pay attention to the players again, to distract from the fiascoes happening off the court. The season kicked off with the revelation of an NBA ref letting mob debts influence his calls, gave us more of the ongoing “Isiah Thomas destroys all that he touches” saga in New York throughout the year, and is wrapping up with Stern letting a greedy ass businessman steal basketball from the city of Seattle. (In one year we have great evidence that the whole “Stern controls the universe” conspiracy isn’t valid, because there’s no way he wouldn’t have orchestrated Isiah’s departure from New York sooner if it was, and great evidence that the conspiracy is valid, because why else would he stubbornly support Clay Bennet, despite the man’s blatant disengenousness regarding keeping the Sonics in Seattle, if it wasn’t for the fact that Bennet’s his buddy? Oh David, you sure know how to keep us guessing!)

So how did this happen? We’re just a few years removed from Ron Artest ignominously stealing the spotlight for beating up a fan who looked like the “They’re eating her,” kid from Troll 2…

League viewership was at a low. People blamed the decline on the thuggish, hip-hop look and unlikable character and irreversible blackness of the players. Larry Bird came out & said what everyone was thinking, that white fans weren’t watching due to the pronounced lack of white American superstars. So the league implemented a dress code so players could only sport their tattoos on the court & would have to stop rocking do-rags during interviews, and they made leaving the bench during a fight a capital offense, even if it’s just to try to keep the peace or check on a teammate, (meanwhile in baseball if you stayed in the dugout during a brawl analysts would rip you to shreds on-air) and begged players to stop makign terrible hip hop albums for the love of God, and considered every imaginable, ultimately pointless cosmetic change. Nothing worked.

So what changed this year? Why are ratings back up after being in a free fall since the end of the Bulls dynasty? Well what the hell made it FANtastic in the 1st place?

Super-Teams that were overloaded with productive talent, and Offense. They’ve made a comeback and brought the fans with them.

The NBA in the 90’s stayed afloat because of Michael Jordan and the Chicago Bulls. If not for the most popular American athlete since Babe Ruth the ratings would’ve been declining since about ‘91 as opposed to ‘98. Prior to Jordan there was the famous arrival of league saviors Magic Johnson and Larry Bird. But what really made the game fun to watch wasn’t just the individual stars, it was the fact that these stars could hit shots, score points and helped turn their teammates into stars (and in rare cases Hall of Famers). The Celtics in the 80’s were considered a “blue collar” team but they could put a century up on the scoreboard easily.

In the 90’s, coaches started adopting that whole “Defense wins championships” theory with a tad too much zeal, thanks to Pat Riley’s “We can’t keep up with the Bulls offensively, so lets try to bully them into a slow, brutal defeat” Knicks. The same Pat Riley who helped Magic unleash “Showtime” in LA for close to a decade completely changed the game for the worse when he moved to New York.

Things like ball movement and moving without the basketball and working for the best shot possible became obsolete. Sure, defense is crucial, but basketball is different from football and baseball. Anyone who’s played at any serious level or actually watched and studied the game with serious interest knows that there’s only so much defense can do. Good ball movement and making the extra pass will always thwart good defensive rotation. It can’t be helped. A great pump fake and footwork can confound even great defenders. Think I’m lying? Here’s a videoof Hall of Famer, world-class athlete and 8-time All Defensive Team selection David Robinson that everyone in my city would love to pretend was a work of fiction.

Everybody’s who has watched a fair amount of games has seen a moment or dozens or hundreds where a guy played textbook defense and still got a jumpshot buried in his mouth. Seriously, look up the list of NBA players who’ve scored 50 points in a single game, and yes you’ll see the expected names–Chamberlain, Bryant, Barry, Jordan, Jabbar–but you’ll also find Dana Barros, Cedric Ceballos, Shareef Abdur-Rahim and Tracy Murray.

Tracy…Murray.

That’s basketball, though. A guy can get hot and there’s not a hell of a lot you can do about it. The rules of the game–particularly the pro game–are inherently designed to benefit the offense and force a faster tempo. But it only really works if you play as a team and if the coaches show confidence in their team’s ability to score.

This year saw it come together after years of selfish play (facilitated by exorbitant contracts handed to unproven players) and lousy coaching crippled the league. That terrible game the Celts & Cavs played the other night–it’s an abberation worthy of its own article now. Had it been played in 1999, nobody would’ve noticed (I don’t care that it was a strike shortened season, that doesn’t excuse guys from hitting shots). It’s not too far off from Game 7 of the ‘05 Finals.

A score of 148-114 was the 1985 version of an embarrassing blowout in the NBA Finals, while the 1998 version is 96-54. And people wonder, really, why fans started tuning out when Jordan left? Nobody tunes in to the NBA to watch a lot of lockdown defense and bad shooting. People don’t even like defensive struggles in football, where it’s more common and there’s at least a chance of seeing a big hit to excite you. Why would the masses tune in to see basketball games where you know nobody’s going to even flirt with scoring 100?

Things are getting better now though. We’re still a long way from seeing a return to the glory days, but it’s getting there. It’s getting out of its own way and it’s seeing the light. There is young talent making a name for itself in the playoffs, teams are actually playing team ball and not standing around watching one guy go for his every time down the court, veterans are proving that they aren’t quite beyond their prime yet, and then you’ve got other talented guys who are sitting at home right now waiting to prove themselves next year.

Yes, the NBA - on the court at least, if not in the back offices - is climbing out of the dark and giving us a reason to love this game again.

We missed you fam. Welcome back.

Rethinking the “No Killing” Code (or Why Classic Superheroes are Morons…Except Batman)

Now, I’m a relatively young dude who grew up after the passing of the Silver Age of comics that many people are nostalgiac for. I understand that the violence and adult nature of many of today’s comics makes a lot of old-school cats shake their heads and ask, “Where? Where did it all go wrong?” I can appreciate the jabs taken at the new, hyper-aggressive brand of heroes and anti-heroes by Kingdom Come & Action Comics #775.

Nonetheless, I still have to wonder how a “big blue boyscout” became of this rampaging maniac…

It’s the most famous comic book ever, and I’m sure many funnier people have already pointed this out, but I’ll go ahead and wear the tread thinner on the same jokes about the above, with the twist being an expression of admiration. Here you clearly have a Superman who is hell bent on defeating whatever unknown, craggy foe he’s bludgeoning with some poor schmuck’s car (I’m betting it’s the dude in the red tie, whose pained expression reads less “I’m terrified of that man’s unimaginable strength!” and more “Dear God my wife’s still in the backseat!”). This is the original Superman, attacking mountains with vehicles heedless of regard for human life. A guy who didn’t go out of his way to kill the bad guys, but didn’t exactly put in the extra effort to make sure he didn’t kill them or destroy other people’s property in the course of battle.

A guy who definitely wouldn’t be caught dead looking like this…

You know how I came across this picture? I searched “Superman crying” and there it was, first page. Google snickered and said “Man there are soooo many pics to choose from,” before I was done typing it. (Conversely, I Googled “Batman crying” and a Batarang shot out of my monitor and struck me in the throat.)

Look, I don’t want to be another one of those comic book nerds who picks on Superman for being “too wholesome.” Truth is, I’m a fan, when he’s not openly bawling into Diana’s Wonder-plated bosom (God’s sake man, have you no Super-shame?). But you have to pick on Superman when talking about things like this because he’s the original. If he says “killing is not allowed” then all others follow suit. He sets the standard.

So How did Supes go from a Kevin Garnett level of psychotic intensity to the Downy-softest super icon in the world?

Probably a number of reasons, but what the hell, I’m gonna blame the “No Killing” code. I understand the ostensible purpose of it, but in actuality it’s careless and wuss-ifying and, most of all, completely idiotic. And here are the reasons why…

Lousy Comic Book Penal Systems

If comic books operated like the real world, where prison escapes are relatively rare and multiple escapes by the same prisoner rarer, and frequent escapes by mass-murdering sociopaths pretty unthinkable, then simply imprisoning an offender would be fine.

Unfortunately, comic books operate in a world where every hero needs an arch-nemisis - or several - and said arch-nemesis needs to make regular appearances lest he be downgraded from “arch-nemesis” to “that dude Superman smacked with a schoolbus that one time.” Here’s the rub: you can’t have the villain constantly evading the hero, else your hero becomes an inept buffoon (see “Inspector Gadget”), but you can’t have the villain stay in prison forever either.

The solution? Your hero wins and locks the bad guy up, the bad guy escapes and starts a new scheme, and the process repeats itself. Ah, but this actually makes the rub even rubbier, as now you have to do something to prevent your regularly scheduled conflicts from falling into a routine of Tom vs. Jerry hijinks. What do you do? Raise the stakes, of course! Nobody can take the stories lightly if there is life and death hanging in the balance! A brilliant solution except for one tiny side effect…

All of Those Innocent Casualties

As an admitted Batman fanatic, I understand that my reason for exempting Batman from the “mega-idiot” category reserved for other No Killing Code abiding heroes (Bruce Wayne’s pathological focus, mild insanity and ponderous arrogance make his adherence more understandable) might be a bit suspect. So I’ll now take this opportunity to skewer him for not having killed The Joker years ago.

The above reasoning for Batman’s refusal to kill notwithstanding, he should have buried The Joker by now. Everybody has to have a breaking point. The Joker has bludgeoned Batman’s partners with a crowbar, then finished him off with a time-bomb chaser, paralyzed another partner and then took photographs of her nude body and showed them to her father (Batman’s buddy, Commissioner Gordon), and murdered the father’s wife. That’s just the people Batman knows.

The Joker exemplifies the problem with just raising the stakes. The villains become more and more villainous, their actions become increasingly deplorable, their body counts look like zip codes, meanwhile the good guy is still playing whiffle-ball.  Shouldn’t Batman have at least beaten The Joker comatose by now? Broken his spine? Something?

When the villains are breaking out of prison and robbing banks and making threats that never come to fruition then the No Killing Code is all good. But if you’re going to let Cyborg and Mongul wipe out Coast City and kill 7 million people in the process, you need to give Green Lantern the green light to wreck somebody. You can’t say that you keep heroes from killing because comic books are meant for children when you let Dr. Light rape Sue Dibny. The shit makes no sense!

For God’s sake, how do citizens in comic book universes even sleep at night?

“You hear about Coast City?”

“Yeah. I hope they get the bastards who did that.”

“They already did.”

“Killed ‘em?”

“Nah. Exiled them to some asteroid or some shit.”

“What? So they can break free like they always do and come back to annihilate another city? How many cities have to get obliterated before they cut this “No Killing” bullshit? Our superheroes suck man! Hell, I shot a guy the other day after he wouldn’t ’stop in the name of the law,’ as I had plainly instructed.”

“I know. I sniped like eighty people in ‘Nam. Sometimes you just have to lay somebody out…”

Which segues to the next headline…

Actual Heroes Actually Kill

There’s this notion that Superman doesn’t kill because he was raised with rural, Midwestern values. Truth, justice, the American way and all that jazz. Truth is, the American way of justice often results in dead motherfucking bad guys. (You see what I did there with flipping the “Truth” and the “justice” and… yeah…)

A soldiers go to war, kills the enemies who tried to ambush his boys: he comes home a hero. A police officer shoots down a guy who’s holding a gun to a hostage, he’s going to get a medal and a deserved “thank you.”

Now I’m not saying that Superman should swoop down and casually snap a bank robber’s neck because he saw the guy holding a gun, but if he’s battling a supervillain with comparable powers he might need to resort to some supermurder to save a life or two. I’m just sayin’…

I’ve been giving DC a hard time, but when it comes to demonizing the act of killing a bad guy Marvel runs things. The Punisher, The Scourge and Wolverine are all guys viewed as “on the fringe” by other heroes. Borderline lunatics who nobody trusts or wants to work with. They’re Riggs from Lethal weapon with only a fraction of the justification for using deadly force and without the heartwarming “I’m not crazy” - “I know” exchange with their veteran black partners at the end of their adventures.

How over-the-top are the Marvel killers? Wolverine is probably the most “balanced” of the bunch, and his signature fighting style is simply referred to as “Berserker rage!” A guy whose weapons are only good for engaging in bloody, vicious, horrifically entertaining slaughter…

This guy is the most stable killer on the roster? We can’t throw in one balanced, “I’m not thrilled about killing but sometimes you just have to go there” character?

Even when a classic hero isn’t directly responsible for someone’s death they often go overboard in lamenting their role in it. Professor X merely mindwipes Magneto and immediately expresses remorse for the action, nevermind Magneto having just ripped the metal out of Wolverine’s bones and, oh yeah, having just killed countless people by deactiving every electronic device on the planet.

But you know, Charles is a decent dude, so he sorta feels bad about putting an end to all of that carnage. Lest the point of “Killers never prosper” elude us, Marvel decides that Charles’ action was uncharacteristically ruthless enough to help spawn the ultra-villainous, global-threat Onslaught. See what happens when you get too reckless Charlie?

Of course, all of this remorse and the requisite extreme consequences is all the more absurd when you consider…

Nobody Stays Dead Anyway

Magneto? Yeah, in a few years he was fine and back to his old mischief, that rascal! Just like so many others who wear a cape or a mask or both and bite it (or come close) in a comic book. There used to be a saying in comic books that nobody stays dead except for Bucky (Captain America’s version of Robin), Jason Todd (Batman’s version of a Joker-victim-sidekick) and Uncle Ben (Spider-Man’s surrogate pops). Only the people who coined that phrase forgot that Bucky and Jason were superheroes, even if they lacked powers, making them very eligible for rebirth–which came about for both just a couple of years ago.

So really, the only people who stay dead in comic books are the ones who are just regular Joes and Janes trying to get through the day, and the only people killing regular Joes and Janes are the supervillains. Death, in the comic books, is like a better version of prison, one that it takes a little longer to escape from. So really, what’s the harm really in killing a bad guy once in a while?

C’mon Supes! I’m not saying you have to go on a killing spree. But for every scene of you blubbering like a baby there needs to be one like this…

I don’t know what all the smoke is from, but I like to presume it’s the remains of his opponents after a well-deserved vaporizing. That’s what I’m talking about…

Worst Summer Movie Seasons in History! (…since 1989…)

We are nearing what may be one of the most amazing, entertaining, thrilling, orgasm-inducing, eyeball-exploding summer movie seasons of all time here in 2008. Iron Man looks great. Will Smith is going to make us laugh and shout (and possibly twist and gangsta-boogie) in Hancock. Indiana Jones has snapped the shackles of development hell and returned to kill more of America’s mid-20th Century enemies. Oh, and then there’s The Dark Knight, which promises to put a smile on that face whether you want it there or not.

That’s right, this summer is going to physically disfigure you with its awesomeness.

Nonetheless, if you listen closely on nights when all else is silent, you can hear the murmurings of haters ready to denounce this summer as one of the most over-hyped and pathetic summers to ever trot its filth before the eyes of filmgoers.

So, for some perspective, I’ve decided to provide a history lesson on actual horrific summer movie seasons and what makes them so completely evil. First…

A Couple of Rules

1. I’m declaring the summer of ‘89 the first real summer movie season

Anyone fancying themselves a “film buff,” “film geek” or “brotha who knows some shit about movies” knows that Jaws is generally given credit for birthing the concept of the summer blockbuster. Given that it was made in 1975, you might be wondering why I’ve decided to make “1989 the number” (to quote the almighty Chuck D) as opposed to viewing it as just “another summer” (to refute the assertion of Chuck D, the jerk). Well, ‘89 was the year that Tim Burton’s Batman struck with an unprecedented media blitz that stopped just short of deploying an army of Bat-droids to force everyone in the country to watch the movie at Batarang-point. It basically set the standard for advertising your film like it’s an impending meteor strike.

On top of that, you had Indiana Jones coming back for one last crusade to murder all of the Nazis he didn’t get around to in the first flick, plus you had Ghostbusters II and Lethal Weapon 2. It was basically the first summer intentionally loaded with action / adventure oriented blockbusters.

2. We’re measuring the summer as a whole.

No summer movie season is completely bad or completely good. So while each of these summers had some cool movies, the cool movies were ultimately forced to tap out to the devastating armbar applied by the lame movies.

That’s pretty much it for the rules. Now, finally, on to the humorous ridicule of others’ creative efforts!

1990: The ‘89 Hangover (Or “The Summer That Wasn’t”)

What Made it Bad?

In short, the fact that the biggest movie of that summer turned out to be fucking Ghost. A movie with this poster…

…ruled the summer box office, beating out the likes of Die Hard 2 and Total Recall. Note the disturbing dearth of explosions, robots, superheroes, swashing and buckling in the above poster. It’s one thing to let a vulgar sex-comedy become the surprise hit of the summer, but a supernatural romance? It especially stands out given that it’s sandwiched between summers that brought us Batman and Terminator 2. This summer was like the two NBA seasons that interrupted Jordan’s six championships while he was away playing baseball; people forget it even existed, and rightfully so.

This summer is also responsible for bringing us the franchise-souring sequels Robocop 2, Another 48 Hours, the unspeakably abysmal Ghost Dad, and the underwhelming Dick Tracy, which was supposed to be the Batman of that summer, but ultimately had its throat ripped out by Swayze–Road House style.

1995: The First Mega-Lame Summer

1990 was bad, but in its defense the summer movie season was still in its infancy, and hell, it did bring us Die Hard 2. In 1995, however, not even John McClane teamed with Samuel L. Jackson dropping f-bombs while disarming actual bombs could salvage the summer from the mega-bombs blowing apart theaters left & right.

Let’s check the culprits.

…and the poster boy…

…I’ll give you a second to recover from all of the wackness-induced eye-vomiting (sorry about that).

Okay, I know Waterworld wasn’t as bad as it was initially made out to be when it first arrived, but that doesn’t mean it isn’t terrible. I remember Congo being built up as a sort of “Jurassic Park with apes,” and what audiences got instead was “a fucking horrible movie with apes.” Batman Forever kicked off the demise of a franchise, and Judge Dredd is quite possibly the most egregious film adaptation ever.

Sure, 1995 also gave us two Oscar winning flicks (Apollo 13 and Braveheart), but what kind of super-nerd who got his nerdiness courtesy of a radioactive-nerd bite expects their summer to deliver Academy Award worthy dramas based on actual events?

The most fun movie of the ‘95 summer? Mortal Kombat. God’s sake… I don’t even know if I should continue, every other lousy summer has to look at least “okay” in comparison, right? Nonetheless…

1997: The Sins of the Awful

To be fair, this is more of an “honorable mention,” as this summer really wasn’t that bad. Men in Black was good, The Lost World was solid (I don’t care what anyone says, the T-Rex rampaging through San Diego was outstanding cinema, damn it) and Nicolas Cage anchored two dumb-but-fun shoot-em-ups (Con Air and Face / Off… I still don’t get the gratuitous slash in the title, but ah well).

Still, it must be addressed, as this was the summer that saw the release of both Volcano and Batman and Robin. The former is bad enough to make you think it might actually be a practical joke (Ah… you got me! You had me thinking this was gonna be cool! Not shitty! Ah man, good one!) and the latter is the only movie I’m aware of that comes with its own apology for being made when you purchase the DVD.

It took aliens, dinosaurs AND stylized gun violence to prevent this summer from being truly atrocious, which is a bit of a coincidence given that the next year, aliens and stylized gun violence kicked off a shitty summer that was promptly stepped on by a gigantic dinosaur…

1998: God-Ageddon!! (or “Arma-Zilla”… nah, definitely sticking with God-Ageddon)

To begin with, this summer season actually started in April, with Lost in Space, which was programmed to erase itself from your memory after consumption. Later in the month we got The Big Hit, which took the John Woo “Heroic Bloodshed” formula and somehow figured that stripping away the grit and replacing it with bubble-wrap would make it more appealing. Because who wouldn’t like an Americanized version of a Hong Kong action flick where the hitmen look like members of a boy band?

By the time Deep Impact finally came the summer had already taxed your faith in humanity so much that you sort of wanted the comet to win. We were also fed Small Soldiers, Six Days, Seven Nights and the X-Files movie that made us all believe in the existence of extra-terrestrials infinitely more than the possibility of the TV series ever being good again. Bad as those flicks are, they still aren’t the primary reason why ‘98 was so, so awful. The villain here is, of course, Godzilla. Brought to us by the same team that gave the world the highly enjoyable idiocy of Independence Day, the expectations for Godzilla were the size of giant lizard capable of destroying New York City. Which… you know… apparently is an inexact size that fluctuates on a scene-to-scene basis because nobody can be troubled to pay attention to such continuity-related trivialities. I’ll spare you the diatribe, as this is already one long ass posting and everyone pretty much knows why Godzilla sucks. All that needs be said is that, when it hit the big screen and eviscerated its own hype with almost admirable zeal, Godzilla single-handedly ruined a whole summer movie season. The post-traumatic-disappointment of Godzilla was so severe that people thought (and some still insist) that Armageddon was a good movie, the same way starving people would probably consider Applebee’s leftovers a delicacy.

2001: Dumb & Fun Split Up: Fun Takes a Summer Off While Dumb Explores a Solo Career

You see what I did there? I anthropomorphized “dumb” and “fun” and turned them into an entertainment duo that has creative differences and… *ahem*… right, right, I’ll just keep it moving then.

2001 gave us the kind of gratuitous badness that borders on malicious. The Mummy Returns decided to forego much of what made the first film so entertaining (e.g. simplicity and not taking itself seriously) and tried to transform itself into something epic. Unfortunately me, you, your momma and your cousin too went to see it, so director Stephen Sommers thought “Apparently people love pretentious self-importance sprinkled into their mindless pulp adventures!” and gave us the same shit with Van Helsing three years later. (The alternate theory is that Van Helsing is so bad that it actually traveled back through time and stamped its formula for badness on The Mummy Returns. Anyone who’s seen Van Helsing knows that this is entirely plausible, maybe even probable.)

Pearl Harbor coupled a pair of actors wooden enough to draw termites (and hey, I think Affleck gets hated on too much and I actually think Hartnett is cool despite his limited range, but putting them together was just a bad, bad idea) with an action movie director who is religiously opposed to both restraint and takes that last longer than 3 seconds. I’m sure you can guess the results. Jurassic Park III turned the scariest, most dangerous place on Earth into a place where a fucking twelve-year-old can survive alone for days until someone shows up to save him! Hell, if the place is that safe you might as well open it up to the public and let people tour Isla Sorna unguided.

The ‘01 summer also brought us the brilliance of Tomb Raider, Fast and the Furious, and the tepid, celluloid-middle-finger-to-film-fans that was the Planet of the Apes remake.

Other than all of that though… you know… great summer at the movies…

Since Then…

The last years have been bumpy, but not quite as disastrous as the years mentioned above. I was tempted to add 2008 as the year of the Big Letdown given the number of ambitious profile sequels that fell far, far short of expectations (Pirates of the Caribbean, Spider-Man 3, Shrek the Third, Evan Almighty) but I don’t think that the worst of those flicks (Spider-Man 3) is quite as bad as people make it out to be, and there were enough good / fun flicks (The Bourne Ultimatum, Ocean’s 13, Transformers, Superbad) to make up for each failure.

So there we have it folks. A breakdown of the worst summer movie seasons since the beginning of the summer movie season as we know it. I’d like to remind everyone that The New Cool is not liable for the psychological agony that bringing up the memories of any these films may have caused, and invite you to come back soon!