Slowly Going Bald

Looking back over 365 days of posts, it's amazing how few of them really deserve to be remembered. But what with it being the end of the year, and with best-of lists proliferating everywhere, I figured I could do worse than to compile a bunch of links to the very few highlights this place managed to churn out over the past 12 months. Enjoy:

• My perilous adventures in the sales world.

• My evening with the drunk girl with sideburns.

• My live account of Oscar-night letdowns.

• My other encounter with an awkward drunk stranger.

• My trip to the sun-blasted wastes of the Big Country.

• My numerous problems with Lorelai Gilmore. (I'm still rooting for Eigeman to return.)

• My gift to the Grand Canyon.

• My concerns about the gifted Bryan Singer and the uber-hack Brett Ratner.

• My favorite story about Chris Hawaii. (Or one of them, anyway.)

• My favorite TV characters. (The list of which is always changing and growing. I can't believe I omitted Oz.)

• My doubts about flying reptiles.

• My disappointment with Spurlock's TV show.

• My freshman year.

• My advice to foolish young men.

• My very own horror story.

• My music week: Parts one, two, three, and four.

• My foolish awesome educational trip to Sin City.

• My thoughts about Rushmore, my favorite Texas films, my interview with a bona fide director, and the best movies you've never seen.

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As good as I was expecting it to be:

Clickety-click.

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The Nativity Story

Unaccompanied Minors

The Good German

The Good Shepherd

Children of Men

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Is it wrong that I found myself enjoying the scenes where the German woman was coming onto Matt Damon when he used the alias "Mr. Carlson"? I'm just saying, I dug the accent. Anyway:

Clickety-click.

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I have nothing worthwhile to say. So, enjoy these videos:

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[As always, discussions of TV shows currently airing are likely to contain, you know, spoilers. If you're not quite smart enough to figure that out, this is your warning. If this warning doesn't work, please have your home health care provider turn off your computer and take you out for ice cream.]

I've been writing about the wonder that is "Battlestar Galactica" for a while now, and this season I've become more convinced than ever that it's one of the greatest shows on TV. And it's not just the show's willingness to explore the dark side of humanity that keeps me riveted, but how the stories manage to marry that darkness with a sense of honor, and hope, and unrelenting struggle against impossible odds.

In only the first 11 episodes of its third season, "Battlestar Galactica" has gone through more upheaval and turmoil than other shows would dare pack into an entire year. The seires could have spent the entire season focused on the New Caprica settlement established at the end of Season 2, which was accomplished with a one-year jump forward in the show's chronology. But no; after four episodes, the settlers had been rescued from the Cylon invasion, Baltar had cast his lot with the Cylons, the men all changed their facial hair and then changed it back, and Tigh lost an eye before assassinating his own wife for betraying the cause.

So, things have been eventful.

Yet I find myself moved again to praise the show, despite the fact that my repeated mentions of the show probably bore some people¹, because it continues to bravely explore such relevant issues as the role of military in the government and the place of religion in public society, and it does it with flair and grace and downright beautiful storytelling. After the fleet was restored and had fled New Caprica, the show dealt with the treacherous nature of insurgency fighters and vigilante justice by having a cabal of crew members dispense private retribution for war crimes. And then there was Starbuck and Tigh's personal quest to sow discord among the ranks just for the hell of it. And who could forget Apollo's argument in favor of genocide?

But it was the ninth episode, "Unfinished Business," that again raised the series' bar for pure sweep. Tying together most of the major characters' stories in an episode that relied purely on backstory and relational history to drive the plot, it ostensibly revolved around a boxing match for the officers. The structure of the episode is moving, as repeated images and scenes become expanded until the full plot is revealed. The episode takes place during the year of action the viewer never saw, between the discovery of New Caprica and the later retreat from the planet. It built on the festering Apollo-Starbuck relationship and showed in greater detail just why he hated her so much, and letting them beat each other up in the ring was a sadness only matched by Apollo's look of heartbreak when he discovered Starbuck had literally abandoned him at dawn.

And while "Unfinished Business" featured the show at the peak of its character-driven melodramatic power, the latest episode, "The Eye of Jupiter," was another great marriage of the show's tangled relationships with its increasingly complex mythology. Having the humans and Cylons clash over the latest signpost on the way to Earth is inevitable, but the series keeps the conflict fresh by making it a political standoff and an observation of the power of religion. It's infinitely more unsettling when, instead of simply engaging in a firefight with the enemy or running away, the Galactica hosts Cylon representatives for an uneasy discussion of a possible temporary truce. Seeing the opposing sides come to an impasse over the newly discovered holy temple has an odd grounding effect on the conflict, and instead of casting one group as inherently good while the other is irredeemably evil, the humans and Cylons are simply portrayed as having two different approaches to survival. It's a nice move to make the "bad guys" so fascinating and relatable, and it's one of the many things that helps the show transcend its narrow genre and become a beautiful, compelling drama.

^{1. Deal.}

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Age of Thomas Wolfe upon publication of Look Homeward, Angel: 29

Age of Bruce Springsteen upon release of Born to Run: 25

Age of Bob Dylan upon release of Highway 61 Revisited: 24

Age of David Foster Wallace upon publication of The Broom of the System: 25

Age of Norman Mailer upon publication of The Naked and the Dead: 25

Age of Elvis Costello upon release of My Aim Is True: 22

Age of Wes Anderson upon release of Bottle Rocket: 27

Age of Noah Baumbach upon release of Kicking and Screaming: 26

Age of Ryan Adams upon release of Heartbreaker: 26

Ages of Jeff Tweedy, Jay Farrar, Mike Heidorn upon release of Uncle Tupelo's No Depression: 23, 24, 23

... I am really, really wasting my 20s. Really.

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1. The Faol Saga, Part 3: The Harrowing

2. The Peacekeepers' Trilogy, Book 1: Chyron's Ruling

3. Tales of the Otori, Book 4: The Harsh Cry of the Otori — The Last Tale of the Otori

4. Dragonriders' Tales, Part 4: Blood of the Innocent

5. The Obsidian Trilogy, Book 3: When Darkness Falls

6. The Belgariad, Vol. 2, Books 4-5: Castle of Wizardry; Enchanters' End Game

7. The Sword of Truth, Book 3: Blood of the Fold

8. The Switchfire Cycle, Book 5: The Reckoning

9. The Zion's Blade Series, Book 2: Bloodless Land

10. Star of the Morning: A Novel of the Nine Kingdoms

11. The Castleguard Trilogy, Book 3: The Mage's Return

12. The Oberon Cycle, Book 1: Wolf's Rule

13. The Darkwar Saga, Book 1: Flight of the Nighthawks

14. The Dark Wizard Cycle, Book 3: Sophie's Choice

15. The Earthsea Cycle, Book 3: The Farthest Shore

16. Strfuh, Dragonspeaker of Killdremen: Being the First Part of the Winged Vengeance Cycle — The Horn of Krah

17. The Black Magician Trilogy, Book 1: The Magicians' Guild

18. Hrothfar Battles the Dark Triune: Part the First — A Gathering Alliance

19. The Serpentwar Saga, Book 4: Shards of a Broken Crown

20. Tales of the Garolds, Book 2: Shepherd's Keep

Real: 3, 5, 6, 7, 10, 13, 15, 17, 19.

Fake: 1, 2, 4, 8, 9, 11, 12, 14, 16 (come on), 18, 20.

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• The highways cutting east through the San Gabriel Valley become congested even earlier in the day than normal on a Friday afternoon, as if the commuters who work in L.A. but lay their heads in the 'burbs can't wait to get out of Dodge. A sense of exodus permeates even the most casual drive in this direction at this time of day on this day of the week, but it's compounded something like nineteenfold when the destination is that dirtiest of holy grails, that most joyfully desecrated of all America's cities, that dull black rock in the center of Lady Liberty's battered crown: Las Vegas.

• Vegas, it should be pointed out, is America's own personal whore.

• It seems like everyone just calls it Vegas, and that it's been that way forever. The casualness of the address belies the dangerous intimacies on tap in Sin City herself, which works (as everything always does) in the house's favor.

• People usually use "tragic flaw" to mean "unfortunate personality trait," as in "Randy's a raging cokehead. Drag." Or "It's a total bummer that Jennifer has to make small cuts on her thigh to achieve physical pleasure." This quaint, aw-shucks dismissal of anything that could be amiss with someone as nothing more than a minor setback is at best shortsighted, and at worst a horrible, horrible mistake. Because a genuine tragic flaw is that darkest, purest, most ruinous desire that not only ensures the hero's undoing but also defines who he/she is. Las Vegas birthed itself from the desert based on the concept that the hero is nothing without the flaw that will lead to his/her eventual destruction, and the city is determined to offer anything and everything a man or woman could want, not merely as recreational activities, but as a brutal means to a quick, messy end.

• Seriously, avoid blackjack.

• About that whole "America's personal whore" thing: There's a reason Vegas thrives in the desert. The city wouldn't be able to exist in a place that received a lot of natural traffic or attention. Its being out in the desert (a) furthers the sense of otherworldliness, of isolation from any and all responsibilities that will come screaming back into your life at 8 a.m. Monday, (b) tests the resolve of those who travel there, making you crawl through boring stretches of desert along the 15 just to see those bright and deadly lights, and (c) creates an extreme geographical and emotional distance from the rest of the world allows us to do whatever we want there and to basically leave the money on the not-always-metaphorical nightstand. And Vegas accepts this, her wide grin displaying a row of stained, cracked teeth, as she takes our money. We don't go there to bury our sins, or wash them away in some mystic river; we go there to celebrate them, to breathe the dusty air of the desert into their bones and awaken them to all kinds of potential reckless adventures.

• You can yell anything you want on Fremont Street — and I mean anything — and no one will care.

• Drunk cowboys who've been gambling and losing all day are pretty pissy dudes, but their not-incidental level of danger is balanced by the unintentional humor they create. An angry fortysomething guy with a buzz cut and blue polo, topped off by sharply creased Wranglers, is an endlessly entertaining poker companion.

• You need to accept the fact that you will not "be up five hundy by midnight." And cocktail waitresses there do not look at all like Deena Martin. Again, the sooner you accept this, the happier you will be.

• If early evening is the best time to make that drive — the dying sun and looming darkness a reminder of the eternal Friday night you're heading for — then dawn is the best time to make that languorous trip back home. The moonlit fields of Primm actually qualify as moonlit, no poetic license needed, and the pale sun on the bleached sand manages to put the guilt and everything in perspective. Most of that drive doesn't feel like California or Nevada; it doesn't feel like anywhere.

• It's about doing stupid things precisely because they are stupid. And about accepting that.

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If the guys from "Twentyfourseven" were trapped in a burning building, I would shut the door and walk away and let them burn. And L.A. would be free of seven of the countless poser hipster morons that clog the place.

I think people would throw a parade in my honor.

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It's a little unsettling to see Tobey Maguire go from the wussy mumblings of Peter Parker to having angry, bound-to-be-projecting-his-own-emotional-insecurities sex with Cate Blanchett.

Anyway:

Clickety-click.

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It's time once again for the Pajiba trade round-up.

And while you're there, check out Jeremy's great review of Inland Empire (I'm a rebel, so no all-caps for me). Weird or not, impenetrable or not, I've watched the trailer way too many times now, and will probably be seeing this soon.

Also, don't forget the latest Guide entry. This one's from John, the newest addition to the staff, who also has his own blog. He deserves your respect, if only because he keeps up with AP headlines (he does more than that, I'm just saying, that's not a bad place to jump in).

So go.

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I wrote a little while ago about the artificiality of "Heroes," and I still maintain that it's an awkward, forced attempt at selling to geekdom, instead of just being naturally somewhat geeky and casual about its genre.

Here's a similar take from Awakeland:

ok, i've had it. i am honestly shocked that heroes is as popular as it is. ... do people really not see how bad this show is? i'm sorry, i really thought i was done blogging rants about anything artistically negative, but this whole heroes craze has just got me perplexed beyond recognition.

why is it bad? honestly, i think the concept is a great one, albeit unoriginal but who cares because it's a comic book story. but the way it is written is so forced and one-dimensional, i cannot understand how it is so popular. not just popular, this show is LOVED by people. what the--?

and please please please, don't read this as an egotistical rant from sethius mcfilmsnob. this is seth worley. firefly advocate and lost addict, registered trekkie and loveslave to spiderman 2. this isn't just another pious blowing off of genre material. this is a huge nerd watching a show about superheroes and being flabbergasted in wake of its worldwide following.

I knew it wasn't just me.

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TV Land, the network haven of shows that couldn't quite make the cut for Nick at Nite, recently compiled a list of the 100 greatest quotes and catchphrases in TV history. The entire list, organized alphabetically, can be found here. There are many, many things wrong with this endeavor.

• The list includes not just TV catchphrases, but things that were simply said on TV. John F. Kennedy's "Ask not what your country can do for you..." isn't a TV catchphrase. It's a great moment from a classic speech that was televised. Likewise, Neil Armstrong's "One small step for man" line is news, not programming. There's a difference, TV Land.

• The list is a fawning rip-off of AFI's annual pointless lists, and just like the film organization's countdowns, the TV Land list tosses in a few more modern entries in hopes of appearing hip and relevant. But is Denny Crane's "Denny Crane" really worth praising? And the inclusion of "Nip/Tuck" and the insipid Paris Hilton is just embarrassing.

• Just thinking about the list has completely robbed me of all energy. I'm done now.

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discharge

moist

slippage

eustachian

squelch

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The dialogue's NSFW, but it's still a classic:

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Despite your direst hopes to the contrary, girls that use True.com do not look in any way like the models used to advertise the site. There's a slutty cowgirl in one of the ads that looks too hot for me to even fantasize about.

The mentally challenged like a good sandwich as much as the next guy.

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If I had kids, and I didn't hate them completely, I would probably take them to see this. And then I would tell them that if they misbehave I will take them to the airport and leave them there to live on their own or die. And then I would tell them I only drink because they keep crying, and that when Daddy hits Mommy it's because she didn't do her due diligence and burned my damn pot pie.

I should never procreate.

Clickety-click.

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• The weekend reviews are pretty much what you'd expect:

Mel Gibson is still crazy; romantic comedies are still dead; Edward Zwick is still a little bit racist; and British kids are still smarter than anticipated.

• "I will vehemently argue with anyone that Monday Night Football ratings would have never dipped if ABC had simply kept re-signing Richard Dean Anderson to new contracts for 'MacGyver.'" It makes sense, if you think about it.

• Speaking of "The Real World," what's up with the white gay Christian (and just wait for that s**tstorm to break out) going Kramer and dropping the N-bomb when he gets drunk? That was probably one of the greatest episodes ever, if only because it gave us half an hour of people with extreme intellectual handicaps trying to parse their feelings and mumble through apologies and statements of feeling that somehow all use the word "actualization." I love stupid people on TV.

• Over at Pajiba, we like books. Deal.

• Apparently, the final few episodes of "Veronica Mars" this season will be stand-alone episodes, instead of an abbreviated multi-episode arc as originally stated. I don't know yet how that will affect the show, but come on: Were people really complaining about the bus-crash arc of Season 2? I loved that season. Loved it. (Also, all apologies for linking to the site for E!, which reads like it was written and designed by one of those mentally challenged Real Worlders.)

• Much props for those who know Elite Hotel, but it's a Gram Parsons song, from Grievous Angel. And man, Gram knew what he was talking about.

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Ooh, Las Vegas

Ain't no place for a poor boy like me

Ooh, Las Vegas

Ain't no place for a poor boy like me

Every time I hit your crystal city

You know you're gonna make a wreck out of me

Well, the first time I lose I drink whiskey

Second time I lose I drink gin

Third time I lose I drink anything

'cause I think I'm gonna win

Ooh, Las Vegas

Ain't no place for a poor boy like me

Ooh, Las Vegas

Ain't no place for a poor boy like me

Every time I hit your crystal city

You know you're gonna make a wreck out of me

Well, the queen of spades is a friend of mine

The queen of hearts is a bitch

Someday when I clean up my mind

I'll find out which is which

Ooh, Las Vegas

Ain't no place for a poor boy like me

Ooh, Las Vegas

Ain't no place for a poor boy like me

Every time I hit your crystal city

You know you're gonna make a wreck out of me

Well, I spend all night with the dealer

Tryin' to get ahead

Spend all day at the Holiday Inn

Trying to get out of bed

Ooh, Las Vegas

Ain't no place for a poor boy like me

Ooh, Las Vegas

Ain't no place for a poor boy like me

Every time I hit your crystal city

You know you're gonna make a wreck out of me

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It's what we do on Thursdays:

The Pajiba trade round-up.

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You want a video?

You got it.

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A great column about politics, the Pit, and the oddness of George Clinton. (I touched on some of this a little while ago, but this is a lot more in-depth.) I also wholeheartedly agree with the premise that there's more that unites us than divides us when it comes to politics.

Anyway: A look at PCU.

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A new column:

What Pajiba's Reading.

And man, the nutbag commenters wasted no time tearing into this one. Dustin thought it would be a worthy idea to make a list of what the staff had read in the past month, for no other reason than that we all like to read and it seemed like a good idea to share our most recent bookshelf picks with the readers. Maybe they would respond in kind, I thought, suggesting books they'd recently read and loved, or sharing stories of old classics or personal favorites that have always seen them through. It would be a nice chance for everyone to geek out a little and talk about what they were reading.

As always, I think I expected too much.

The kind of people who would see a list of potential reading material and note the books for a later trip to the bookstore or Amazon — people like me — aren't usually the kind of people to leave comments on random sites. The online community affords its loudest members a dangerous bravado, so when the Pajiba staff decided to do a one-off column intended just to tell people what we've been reading lately, some people immediately took us to task for our "pedestrian" tastes. Crazy people, listen up: We're not Bookgasm, or Bookslut (is there a book site that isn't somehow sexualized?). We just wanted to share the latest books we've read. That's it. That's all. If you've really got a problem with it, well, go soak your heads or something.

Although at least no one has attacked me for Y: The Last Man. Because to do so would be stupid.

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RMS: saw one flew over the cuckoo's nest last night
for the first time
me: classic
RMS: yup
me: if i had to, i would smother you
for your freedom
RMS: hahaha
good
if I had to, I would push you into a room with a hooker
me: *hugs ryan*
thank you
well now i know what you're getting me for christmas

me: oh man

i'm editing a review for a reality show called My Bare Lady

about porn stars taking an acting class

and it turns out that imdb has these women in their system

AND titles

ew

http://www.imdb.com/title/tt0799887/

...

Sis: man, these titles are out of control

me: Fine Ass Bitches 5

that's amazing

hehehehehehe

Invasian 2

brilliant

Sis: Grand Theft Anal 9

me: hahahaha

Sis: Party at Butts Place

hahaha

oh man

most of these titles are from this year. she's had a busy year

me: apparently so

jeez

these are amazing

Absolutely Adorable

that one's kinda cute

The Maintenance Girls

that one just sounds like a drama

Sis: how deceiving

me: yeah

like maybe you rent it b/c you like maintenance

then BAM

boobies

so confusing

Sis: haha

that's how they get ya

me: "what the ...? that's not how you fix a coolant leak. OH GOOD LORD"

Sis: hahahaha

me: they should totally make educational porn

like car repair

home building

etc.

Sis: wasn't that what they made in "The Girl Next Door"?

me: no

the lesson there was "dating a porn star is probably a bad idea"

i want the lesson to be "here's how to install drywall"

Sis: no, i thought that the porn they made at school was like that

me: oh

but that was a sex ed video

everybody already knows that

wear a condom, don't sleep with girls named after cities, etc.

i want basics of modern living

painting the dining room, roofing, auto maintenance, etc.

Sis: haha

nice

me: i think porn sales would get even bigger

"hey, i love this girl! and now i can do my own grouting and tile work!"

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• Teach the other housemates fake vocabulary, like "frambly" and "turnwillish." Enjoy newfound power.

• Attempt to explain to the housemates that having sex anywhere in Denver would automatically put you in the Mile-High Club. Eventually give up.

• Make the producers immediately regret installing giant clear glass doors in the shower.

• Pretend to be mildly retarded to earn sympathy from the housemates. Walk around naked. Hump the leg of the trashy-looking girl. (I realize that's all of them, but go with me.) Eventually admit that it was all an act. Make up further story about abuse to justify my behavior. Become hero of the house.

• Speak only in dialogue from Diner.

• Ask the two black residents of the house if they know my friend Ray Ray, who's in the joint on some b.s. B&E charge. Just to see what happens.

• Soil myself during the confessional interviews.

• Kill everyone in the house.

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• The latest reviews:

"But while that film was a cautionary tale of a young girl throwing her life away, The Nativity Story at times plays like an odd reverse: A coldly celebratory tale of a holy woman who’s utterly unmoved by her role in the fate of mankind. The joy here is spread too thin, and the resulting film never quite lives up its potential."

"Van Wilder 2 is a bad film, which is obvious enough in the fact that not even Tara Reid makes a return appearance, choosing instead to do an incredibly low-budget bowling film featuring Robert Carradine. ... I mean, seriously — how hard would it be to satisfy its core audience, made up of largely drunk college kid(s) who have to coordinate brain cells to make it to the theater on time?"

"I’m at a loss for the faux-genre’s newfound popularity, as the subject’s sick conceit usually relegates it to obscurity. Regardless, the provocation that torture-porn intends doesn’t make much of a difference when the direction and writing are as inept as they are in Turistas."

"In many ways the film is more like Almodóvar’s great works of the mid-to-late ’80s than his recent films, which have been less irreverently wicked and therefore considered more mature by many critics. But there can be no doubt that this is the work of a mature artist at the top of his game."

• Okay, in addition to being all romcom-ish and predictable-looking, the trailer for The Holiday adds a whole other level of dangerous wish-fulfillment by making you think that a guy that looks like Jack Black can land a girl that looks like Kate Winslet. And that's just mean and misleading. Stupid Hollywood.

• "He and his writers are building a world to live in, not a theory to unravel. It's a world that does more than transcend his show's silly title. It actually redeems it."

• "The relevance of Third Reich Germany to today's America is not that Bush equals Hitler or that the United States government is a death machine. It's that it provides a rather spectacular example of the insidious process by which decent people come to regard the unthinkable as not only thinkable but doable, justifiable. Of the way freethinkers and speakers become compliant and self-censoring. Of the mechanism by which moral or humanistic categories are converted into bureaucratic ones. And finally, of the willingness with which we hand control over to the state and convince ourselves that we are the masters of our destiny."

• Because if you're gonna be tortured, you might as well distract yourself by having sex with the blonde robot that lives in your brain:

• Nothing this cool will ever be on TV again. Ever:

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Oddly depressing, or at least not totally uplifting:

Clickety-click.

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