Thursday, February 28, 2008
Fuck Me
I just finished banging out that little update about fantasy baseball bullshit and I was going to slip into my new Under Armour ColdGear and run to the office to grab something I forgot. I open my front door and there's a half of inch of snow. In the two hours I've been home, it's dropped about twenty degrees and snowed a considerable amount. This weather is batshit.
Fantasy Baseball - Draft Recap
I swore I wouln't get too intensive into the minutia of my fantasy baseball team(s) here, but I can't help myself, so screw it. I joined my first fantasy baseball league of 2008 a couple weekends back. I spent about fifteen minutes tweaking my pre-draft rankings, and then the auto-draft went down. Here’s what I wound up with:
Pick Player Position(s)
4 Chase Utley 2b
2007 Line: 176/530, 104 runs, 101 hits, 48 doubles, 5 triples, 22HR, 103RBI, 9 SB, .332 avg, .976 OPS
Word: Last year, in all three of my leagues wound up with Chase Utley as my #1 pick. I took him over Pujols, Ryan Howard, Miggy Cabrera, David Wright, Matt Holiday, Jimmy Rollins, and Prince Fielder, among others, here. I don’t mind that much. I moved Pujols down my rankings b/c of an elbow injury that’s been lingering for three years. Now, with the team overturning a bunch, he’s said if he’s not right, he’ll have surgery mid-year and basically scrap this season. No thanks. Ryan Howard would’ve been a consideration…I’ve never had a monster masher. Cabrera should be way better in a loaded Detroit lineup. But if I would’ve went a different way, I would’ve taken Holliday. He’ll out produce Utley in HR and RBI and would be about the same in AVG. My thinking with Utley is that even if he doesn’t quite stack up in the power categories to the boppers, he’s more well rounded than some of the sluggers with his proficiency in the AVG and SB categories and hitting behind Rollins and in front of Howard in that Philly lineup, he’ll continue to get plenty to hit. Plus, he’s in a class of his own at 2b. He had the best numbers of any second bagger last season while missing six weeks with an elbow injury.
25 Ichiro Suzuki OF
2007 Line: 238/678, 111 runs, 203 hits, 22 doubles, 7 triples, 6HR, 68RBI, 37 SB, .351 avg, .827 OPS
Word: Hands down, the toughest category to makeup mid-season is batting average and few on the planet are better pure hitters than Ichiro. He’s coming off a down year in terms of SB and his power numbers were a little off too, but I don’t mind this pick at all. He’s upper crust in AVG and SB, very solid in R, and won’t hurt you too bad with HR and RBI. Those triples could add up too – that’s normally a very close category.
32 Alex Rios OF
2007 Line: 191/643, 114 runs, 117 hits, 43 doubles, 7 triples, 24HR, 85RBI, 17 SB, .297 avg, .852 OPS
Word: Even though he was hurt a portion of last year, it was still a breakout year. He’s supplanted Vernon Wells as the #3 hitter in Toronto’s lineup and is a five-tool player. I’ll take that at this point in the draft over guys that will only help in three categories that went around this point in the draft (Manny Ramirez, Victor Martinez, Russell Martin).
53 Cole Hamels SP
2007 Line: 183.1 IP, 15 W, 2 CG, 177K, 3.39 ERA, 1.12 WHIP
Word: If this were a live draft, I’d never take a pitcher before about pick #60. There are a lot of good young arms in the league right now and there’s suprising depth at the top of the pitching barrel. It’s the bottom where you’re scraping crud. This isn’t too high of a reach for a #1 arm, but I’m surprised how many went in the first three rounds (Santana-6, Matsuzaka-14, Peavy-21, Bedard-23, Beckett-34, Webb-40, Papelbon-42). If you’re diligent enough, you can stream pitchers and still hold your own in most pitching categories. Having a couple of aces will balance things out though.
60 Tori Hunter OF
2007 Line: 172/600, 94 runs, 98 hits, 45 doubles, 1 triple, 28HR, 107RBI, 18 SB, .287 avg, .839 OPS
Word: I’m interested to see how Hunter does in Anaheim. He’ll definitely get the chance to run more – Mike Soscia loves the old school ball, but his protection probably isn’t as good as it was with Morneau, Mauer and Cuddyer hitting around him. Vlad Guerrero is slipping and besides that, the rest of the Angels lineup are more line-drive hitters. Hunter, like many of my other guys, offers great value in pretty much all categories. I’m curious to see how he does in terms of extra-base hits now that he’s out of the spacious confines of Minnesota. Last year, he had just 8 more hits and six more doubles at home, although he did hit .302 as opposed to .270 on the road. However, his power numbers were more favorable away from the Metrodome as he hit four more dingers and drove in 8 more runs. None of those stats offer dramatic home/road splits, which has pretty much been the story of Hunter’s career: consistency. The biggest concern is probably his advancing age (33). I was a little bummed that Houston phenom Hunter Pence went two picks earlier. He’s basically a younger, more durable version of Hunter.
81 Chris Young SP
2007 Line: 173 IP, 9 W, 167 K, 3.12 ERA, 1.10 WHIP
Word: I don’t have a problem with winding up with Young at this point in the draft. Although, following my logic of waiting on most starters until after pick 50, a guy like Young should’ve slid to around #100. But since someone was dumb enough to draft a starter in the first five rounds, I’m ok getting a guy with filthy Cy Young stuff here. I’m very large on all San Diego pitchers. Anyone who pitches half their games in the pitching friendly confines of Petco, moves up a few notches on my depth chart. To wit: Young’s home ERA last year was 1.69 and his home WHIP was 0.96. 0.96 for a starter is mind-boggling. A couple of minor injuries and a brief suspension (for beating Derrick Lee's ass) held Young back last year, as did an often anemic offense, but Young is a stud in all categories except wins, and in all his starts, he did his part to help the team win.
88 Roy Oswalt SP
2007 Line: 212 IP, 14 W, 1CG, 154 K, 3.18 ERA, 1.33 WHIP
Word: Not a bad spot for Oswalt, although at this point I would’ve considered a guys like Jason Bay, Paul Konerko, Jorge Posada and Ryan Zimmerman who all went shortly after this pick. The pick probably would’ve been Zimmerman, because I got hosed with 3rd basemen and he’s put up good numbers in a horrible park to hit in. This year, the Nats move into a new park, and compared to the old yard, any park is an improvement. Back to Oswalt, I’m not thrilled with him. He’s been less and less dominant the last couple of years, which is to say he’s gone from being unhittable to still being dominant. The NL Central is still an ok place to pitch, and although I hate Oswalt’s home park, he was markedly better there last year. He won four more games, lost five fewer, gave up 9 fewer hits in 13 more innings, surrendered 26 fewer runs, 25 less earned runs, 4 fewer homers, struck out 42 more batters and his home ERA and WHIP were 1.91 and 1.16 compared to 4.77 and 1.54 away from the Juice Box. He also held opponents to a batting average .61 points lower. Crazy stats, when you look at that tiny, quirky field, but they are what they are.
109 Roy Halladay SP
2007 Line: 225.1 IP, 16 W, 7 CG, 1SHO, 139 K, 3.71 ERA, 1.24 WHIP
Word: Doc Halladay is excellent value here. He’s still solid in pretty much all categories and he’s so durable…he’s just an innings machine and throws complete games like no one else in the game today. Part of that, I think, is that he seems to have lost some velocity, just a little, or maybe he’s just pitching smarter, not harder. I had Halladay last year and he single-handedly won me the CG and SO categories. I’d like to keep Halladay this year, but I might be moving him for more offense. More on that later.
116 Jermaine Dye OF
2007 Line: 129/508, 68 runs, 67 hits, 34 doubles, 28HR, 78RBI, 2 SB, .254 avg, .803 OPS
Word: Like so many other guys on my roster, I had Dye in one of my three leagues last year. Coming off a couple of monster MVP-caliber years, Dye was a massive disappointment last year. For the first three quarters, he hit around .230 before picking it up a little at the end of the year. I’d move him for the right offer, as he’s a leech on my AVG stat, and contributes nothing in terms of SB. But he still hits in the middle of a pretty potent lineup, so the runs are going to be no worse than average for an outfielder, and The Cell is like the Coors Field of the American League – it’s a tremendous hitter’s park. I can see keeping him as a fourth outfielder or moving him for a more well-rounded player. There’s bound to be someone willing to gamble on his age (34) and former productivity (44HR-120RBI).
137 Matt Cain SP
2007 Line: 200 IP, 7 W, 1 CG, 163 K, 3.65 ERA, 1.26 WHIP
Word: Had Cain in a couple of leagues last year too. This roster is looking like déjà vu so far. Cain suffered a sophomore slump last year. Although his HR, runs, and walks were down, his ERA was down half a point and his WHIP was about the same, for most of last year, he got hit harder and was susceptible to the big inning. Still, he toughed out 200 innings. He pitches in a relatively friendly park, but his biggest obstacle between winning about 15-20 games is that he has no offense behind him. San Fran is in full rebuilding mode and still employs a lot of geriatrics. I’m pretty happy with this pick in terms of value. I think Cain rebounds pretty big this year.
144 Aaron Rowand OF
2007 Line: 189/612, 105 runs, 117 hits, 45 doubles, 27HR, 89RBI, 6 SB, .309 avg, .889 OPS
Word: I would love to move Rowand. He’s the exact type of player you want on your real-life team and just the type of player you avoid in fantasy like the plague. He gives you everything, his heart and soul and sacrifices his body. But that makes him injury prone and sort of emotionally streaky. His numbers last year were inflated by playing in that lauching pad in Philly and the change of scenery to San Fran could sap his power back to the 15-20 range. He is a pretty good line-drive hitter which should play well with those big gaps in left and right centerfield, and he’ll get more of a chance to hit in the 3 or 4 hole in San Fran instead of 5 or 6 like he did in Philly. Another reason I’d move him: I have five outfielders that should probably be starting for someone. Even though I can play one in a utility role, I still think I can pick up help somewhere else for one of my spare outfielders.
165 Joakim Soria RP
2007 Line: 69 IP, 2 W, 17 SV, 75 K, 2.48 ERA, 0.94 WHIP
Word: Soria came from out of nowhere last year to be a major force in the bullpen. There was talk of making former 1st Rounder Zach Greinke the closer to get over his anxiety, but the team moved him to the bullpen to take pressure off him, he rebounded and is going back to the rotation, so the gig is Soria’s. The Royals may not win much, but they seem poised to win a little more frequently than last year. That, and that Soria will be the stopper from day one should put him in the 28-35 save range. This was a decent value pick as well, as Soria will contribute well in the ERA and WHIP categories and will put up a pretty good K/9 rate for a reliever.
172 Jhonny Peralta SS
2007 Line: 155/574, 87 runs, 106 hits, 27 doubles, 1 triple, 21HR, 72RBI, 4 SB, .270 avg, .771 OPS
Word: Shortstops are pretty interchangable once you get past the top three (Reyes, H-Ram, Rollins), and the difference between say, the sixth and the twelve shortstop isn’t all that great; most of the guys will be solid contributors in about three categories, average in another, and weak in the fifth. Peralta fits that description rather aptly. He’s a pretty good source of runs in terms of shortstops, he’s one of the better power-hitting shorties, and by usually batting 6th or 7th for the Indians, he’s a decent run producer. He’s a classic fastball hitter, so pitchers will still fool him plenty with the off-speed stuff, hence his average average, and you’d like a few more stolen bases out of your SS position.
193 Joe Borowski RP
2007 Line: 65.2 IP, 4 W, 45 SV, 58 K, 5.07 ERA, 1.43 WHIP
Word: I don’t have a problem with picking a closer here, but I am concerned about this particular closer. Borowski really only helps in the Save category. Sure, he’ll get plenty of opportunity closing games for a prolific Indians offense, but he was on a short leash last year and has Rafael Betancourt looming over his shoulder. It doesn't help that Detroit looks like a superpower in the AL Central, and the Tribe probably has little margin for error. He won’t strike out a ton of people, and he does get knocked around a lot. Just look at the ERA and WHIP – that’s ugly for a reliever. You’d like a guy who’s a little more well-rounded. But if he posts another 45 saves, I’ll live with it. If he loses his job, he’s going straight to the waiver wire. Without being the closer, he has no value, so I won’t be able to trade him.
200 AJ Pierzynski C
2007 Line: 124/472, 54 runs, 86 hits, 24 doubles, 14HR, 50RBI, 1 SB, .263 avg, .712 OPS
Word: I learned my lesson about drafting a premier catcher high last year. In one league I took Brian McCann in the third round, passing up on some solid boppers for a catcher who provides excellent offense – for a catcher. McCann struggled off and on the first two months, but rebounded to have a solid year. Still, it was a disappointment and the dearth of premium catchers is no reason to reach for one of the top four (V-Mart, Russell Martin, McCann, Joe Mauer). Pierzynski still hits for decent average and the HR and RBI are pretty solid. It helps that he plays his home games in the most hitter friendly park in the AL. And yeah, sure, he’s a headcase, but fortunately, his skipper is an even bigger nut, so he’s not going to be benched anytime soon.
221 Adam LaRoche 1b
2007 Line: 153/563, 71 runs, 90 hits, 42 doubles, 21HR, 88RBI, 1 SB, .272 avg, .803 OPS
Word: Man, did LaRoche fucking burn me last year. He had “excellent value pick” written all over him, so I took him in all three of my leagues. What did he do? Sucked horribly the first month and a half, they played average for another month before finishing well enough to post decent numbers. He still fell short of the 30HR, 100RBI estimates a lot of people were throwing out for him. His average the first month or so was around the Mendoza line. LaRoche has always been a notoriously slow starter, but it’s hard to imagine him being that bad for that long to start the season again. I still think he’s a pretty good value pick this year – he’s average in average, and is a plus fantasy contributor in HR, RBI and OPS thanks to a good batting eye.
228 Eric Chavez 3b
2007 Line: 82/341, 43 runs, 44 hits, 21 doubles, 2 triples, 15HR, 46RBI, 4 SB, .240 avg, .752 OPS
Word: I’m terribly scared about my 3B situation. Chavez is long removed from his monster 2004 and 2005 seasons. He’s never been good at hitting for average, but .240 is tough to swallow. His OPS has nosedived each of the last three years. His HR and RBI seem to still there – the production rate is still there, he just can’t stay healthy over the last two years to put up the numbers he projects to. Word is he’s already got neck and back issues and he hasn’t even reported to camp yet. If he stays healthy, hits 20 HR and drives in 85 runs or so, I can live with a .250 average for at least part of the season (until one of the young 3B prospects gets a mid-season call up). But that is a huge ‘if’.
249 Jason Giambi 1b
2007 Line: 60/254, 31 runs, 38 hits, 8 doubles, 14HR, 39RBI, 1 SB, .236 avg, .789 OPS
Word: NO THANKYOU! A 37 year old “slugger” who’s power and OPS have been in decline for three years now, who has never hit for average, whose knees are so bad he can hardly play 1B anymore, who’s so brittle that he broke his foot last year rounding second base during a homerun trot? Not for me. I’m dumping Giambi ASAP.
256 Heath Bell RP
2007 Line: 93.2 IP, 6 W, 2 SV, 102 K, 2.02 ERA, 0.96 WHIP
Word: Like I said earlier, I’m very high on all San Diego pitchers. Bell was dynamite last year for the Pads. He’s their closer of the future, and here’s hoping the future comes sooner rather than later. He’s a good source of K’s for a reliever and that ERA and WHIP are excellent. Given San Diego’s offensive struggles and their quality pitching staff, bullpen guys like Bell also manage to stumble into some late-game win opportunities too.
277 Dmitri Young 1b
2007 Line: 147/460, 57 runs, 95 hits, 38 doubles, 1 triple, 13HR, 74RBI, .320 avg, .869 OPS
Word: I wouldn’t mind keeping Young because he’s always hit for average, and I’ve got to counter balance some of my whiffers somehow. He’s alright in terms of RBI’s too, and with the move to a newer, more hitter-friendly park, his HR could improve a little bit too. His OPS is pretty good too, thanks to a patient approach at the plate and his contact hitting skills. One thing troubles me – Nick Johnson is supposedly healthy again, and will steal playing time. I can’t imagine Young staying on my roster all year, but he could be a guy who is on and off and on and off whenever I’m trying to play catch-up in the AVG and OPS stats.
284 Greg Maddux SP
2007 Line: 198 IP, 14 W, 1CG, 104 K, 4.14 ERA, 1.24 WHIP
Word: Maddux might not have the same stuff, but he’s just as crafty as ever. Unfortunately, his only value at this point is in the Wins column. He’s still ownable, but might only be start-able at home in PETCO park.
305 Ryan Freel 3b, OF
2007 Line: 68/277, 44 runs, 49 hits, 13 doubles, 3 triples, 3HR, 16RBI, 15 SB, .245 avg, .655 OPS
Word: Freel is another one trick pony. Yes, he’s versatile, but he his only value is the occasional stolen base. Last year he was injured and "off" and his one good fantasy contribution was down, way down. He had 3 straight years of 36 steals or more. Given some of the Reds talented young outfielders, he might not even get the same opportunities as he has in years past. I feel like I’ve got good enough sources of steals on the roster, so I’m going to look for someone who might contribute in more than one category.
I'll update the roster moves I've made in the weeks since the draft in the next couple of days.
Pick Player Position(s)
4 Chase Utley 2b
2007 Line: 176/530, 104 runs, 101 hits, 48 doubles, 5 triples, 22HR, 103RBI, 9 SB, .332 avg, .976 OPS
Word: Last year, in all three of my leagues wound up with Chase Utley as my #1 pick. I took him over Pujols, Ryan Howard, Miggy Cabrera, David Wright, Matt Holiday, Jimmy Rollins, and Prince Fielder, among others, here. I don’t mind that much. I moved Pujols down my rankings b/c of an elbow injury that’s been lingering for three years. Now, with the team overturning a bunch, he’s said if he’s not right, he’ll have surgery mid-year and basically scrap this season. No thanks. Ryan Howard would’ve been a consideration…I’ve never had a monster masher. Cabrera should be way better in a loaded Detroit lineup. But if I would’ve went a different way, I would’ve taken Holliday. He’ll out produce Utley in HR and RBI and would be about the same in AVG. My thinking with Utley is that even if he doesn’t quite stack up in the power categories to the boppers, he’s more well rounded than some of the sluggers with his proficiency in the AVG and SB categories and hitting behind Rollins and in front of Howard in that Philly lineup, he’ll continue to get plenty to hit. Plus, he’s in a class of his own at 2b. He had the best numbers of any second bagger last season while missing six weeks with an elbow injury.
25 Ichiro Suzuki OF
2007 Line: 238/678, 111 runs, 203 hits, 22 doubles, 7 triples, 6HR, 68RBI, 37 SB, .351 avg, .827 OPS
Word: Hands down, the toughest category to makeup mid-season is batting average and few on the planet are better pure hitters than Ichiro. He’s coming off a down year in terms of SB and his power numbers were a little off too, but I don’t mind this pick at all. He’s upper crust in AVG and SB, very solid in R, and won’t hurt you too bad with HR and RBI. Those triples could add up too – that’s normally a very close category.
32 Alex Rios OF
2007 Line: 191/643, 114 runs, 117 hits, 43 doubles, 7 triples, 24HR, 85RBI, 17 SB, .297 avg, .852 OPS
Word: Even though he was hurt a portion of last year, it was still a breakout year. He’s supplanted Vernon Wells as the #3 hitter in Toronto’s lineup and is a five-tool player. I’ll take that at this point in the draft over guys that will only help in three categories that went around this point in the draft (Manny Ramirez, Victor Martinez, Russell Martin).
53 Cole Hamels SP
2007 Line: 183.1 IP, 15 W, 2 CG, 177K, 3.39 ERA, 1.12 WHIP
Word: If this were a live draft, I’d never take a pitcher before about pick #60. There are a lot of good young arms in the league right now and there’s suprising depth at the top of the pitching barrel. It’s the bottom where you’re scraping crud. This isn’t too high of a reach for a #1 arm, but I’m surprised how many went in the first three rounds (Santana-6, Matsuzaka-14, Peavy-21, Bedard-23, Beckett-34, Webb-40, Papelbon-42). If you’re diligent enough, you can stream pitchers and still hold your own in most pitching categories. Having a couple of aces will balance things out though.
60 Tori Hunter OF
2007 Line: 172/600, 94 runs, 98 hits, 45 doubles, 1 triple, 28HR, 107RBI, 18 SB, .287 avg, .839 OPS
Word: I’m interested to see how Hunter does in Anaheim. He’ll definitely get the chance to run more – Mike Soscia loves the old school ball, but his protection probably isn’t as good as it was with Morneau, Mauer and Cuddyer hitting around him. Vlad Guerrero is slipping and besides that, the rest of the Angels lineup are more line-drive hitters. Hunter, like many of my other guys, offers great value in pretty much all categories. I’m curious to see how he does in terms of extra-base hits now that he’s out of the spacious confines of Minnesota. Last year, he had just 8 more hits and six more doubles at home, although he did hit .302 as opposed to .270 on the road. However, his power numbers were more favorable away from the Metrodome as he hit four more dingers and drove in 8 more runs. None of those stats offer dramatic home/road splits, which has pretty much been the story of Hunter’s career: consistency. The biggest concern is probably his advancing age (33). I was a little bummed that Houston phenom Hunter Pence went two picks earlier. He’s basically a younger, more durable version of Hunter.
81 Chris Young SP
2007 Line: 173 IP, 9 W, 167 K, 3.12 ERA, 1.10 WHIP
Word: I don’t have a problem with winding up with Young at this point in the draft. Although, following my logic of waiting on most starters until after pick 50, a guy like Young should’ve slid to around #100. But since someone was dumb enough to draft a starter in the first five rounds, I’m ok getting a guy with filthy Cy Young stuff here. I’m very large on all San Diego pitchers. Anyone who pitches half their games in the pitching friendly confines of Petco, moves up a few notches on my depth chart. To wit: Young’s home ERA last year was 1.69 and his home WHIP was 0.96. 0.96 for a starter is mind-boggling. A couple of minor injuries and a brief suspension (for beating Derrick Lee's ass) held Young back last year, as did an often anemic offense, but Young is a stud in all categories except wins, and in all his starts, he did his part to help the team win.
88 Roy Oswalt SP
2007 Line: 212 IP, 14 W, 1CG, 154 K, 3.18 ERA, 1.33 WHIP
Word: Not a bad spot for Oswalt, although at this point I would’ve considered a guys like Jason Bay, Paul Konerko, Jorge Posada and Ryan Zimmerman who all went shortly after this pick. The pick probably would’ve been Zimmerman, because I got hosed with 3rd basemen and he’s put up good numbers in a horrible park to hit in. This year, the Nats move into a new park, and compared to the old yard, any park is an improvement. Back to Oswalt, I’m not thrilled with him. He’s been less and less dominant the last couple of years, which is to say he’s gone from being unhittable to still being dominant. The NL Central is still an ok place to pitch, and although I hate Oswalt’s home park, he was markedly better there last year. He won four more games, lost five fewer, gave up 9 fewer hits in 13 more innings, surrendered 26 fewer runs, 25 less earned runs, 4 fewer homers, struck out 42 more batters and his home ERA and WHIP were 1.91 and 1.16 compared to 4.77 and 1.54 away from the Juice Box. He also held opponents to a batting average .61 points lower. Crazy stats, when you look at that tiny, quirky field, but they are what they are.
109 Roy Halladay SP
2007 Line: 225.1 IP, 16 W, 7 CG, 1SHO, 139 K, 3.71 ERA, 1.24 WHIP
Word: Doc Halladay is excellent value here. He’s still solid in pretty much all categories and he’s so durable…he’s just an innings machine and throws complete games like no one else in the game today. Part of that, I think, is that he seems to have lost some velocity, just a little, or maybe he’s just pitching smarter, not harder. I had Halladay last year and he single-handedly won me the CG and SO categories. I’d like to keep Halladay this year, but I might be moving him for more offense. More on that later.
116 Jermaine Dye OF
2007 Line: 129/508, 68 runs, 67 hits, 34 doubles, 28HR, 78RBI, 2 SB, .254 avg, .803 OPS
Word: Like so many other guys on my roster, I had Dye in one of my three leagues last year. Coming off a couple of monster MVP-caliber years, Dye was a massive disappointment last year. For the first three quarters, he hit around .230 before picking it up a little at the end of the year. I’d move him for the right offer, as he’s a leech on my AVG stat, and contributes nothing in terms of SB. But he still hits in the middle of a pretty potent lineup, so the runs are going to be no worse than average for an outfielder, and The Cell is like the Coors Field of the American League – it’s a tremendous hitter’s park. I can see keeping him as a fourth outfielder or moving him for a more well-rounded player. There’s bound to be someone willing to gamble on his age (34) and former productivity (44HR-120RBI).
137 Matt Cain SP
2007 Line: 200 IP, 7 W, 1 CG, 163 K, 3.65 ERA, 1.26 WHIP
Word: Had Cain in a couple of leagues last year too. This roster is looking like déjà vu so far. Cain suffered a sophomore slump last year. Although his HR, runs, and walks were down, his ERA was down half a point and his WHIP was about the same, for most of last year, he got hit harder and was susceptible to the big inning. Still, he toughed out 200 innings. He pitches in a relatively friendly park, but his biggest obstacle between winning about 15-20 games is that he has no offense behind him. San Fran is in full rebuilding mode and still employs a lot of geriatrics. I’m pretty happy with this pick in terms of value. I think Cain rebounds pretty big this year.
144 Aaron Rowand OF
2007 Line: 189/612, 105 runs, 117 hits, 45 doubles, 27HR, 89RBI, 6 SB, .309 avg, .889 OPS
Word: I would love to move Rowand. He’s the exact type of player you want on your real-life team and just the type of player you avoid in fantasy like the plague. He gives you everything, his heart and soul and sacrifices his body. But that makes him injury prone and sort of emotionally streaky. His numbers last year were inflated by playing in that lauching pad in Philly and the change of scenery to San Fran could sap his power back to the 15-20 range. He is a pretty good line-drive hitter which should play well with those big gaps in left and right centerfield, and he’ll get more of a chance to hit in the 3 or 4 hole in San Fran instead of 5 or 6 like he did in Philly. Another reason I’d move him: I have five outfielders that should probably be starting for someone. Even though I can play one in a utility role, I still think I can pick up help somewhere else for one of my spare outfielders.
165 Joakim Soria RP
2007 Line: 69 IP, 2 W, 17 SV, 75 K, 2.48 ERA, 0.94 WHIP
Word: Soria came from out of nowhere last year to be a major force in the bullpen. There was talk of making former 1st Rounder Zach Greinke the closer to get over his anxiety, but the team moved him to the bullpen to take pressure off him, he rebounded and is going back to the rotation, so the gig is Soria’s. The Royals may not win much, but they seem poised to win a little more frequently than last year. That, and that Soria will be the stopper from day one should put him in the 28-35 save range. This was a decent value pick as well, as Soria will contribute well in the ERA and WHIP categories and will put up a pretty good K/9 rate for a reliever.
172 Jhonny Peralta SS
2007 Line: 155/574, 87 runs, 106 hits, 27 doubles, 1 triple, 21HR, 72RBI, 4 SB, .270 avg, .771 OPS
Word: Shortstops are pretty interchangable once you get past the top three (Reyes, H-Ram, Rollins), and the difference between say, the sixth and the twelve shortstop isn’t all that great; most of the guys will be solid contributors in about three categories, average in another, and weak in the fifth. Peralta fits that description rather aptly. He’s a pretty good source of runs in terms of shortstops, he’s one of the better power-hitting shorties, and by usually batting 6th or 7th for the Indians, he’s a decent run producer. He’s a classic fastball hitter, so pitchers will still fool him plenty with the off-speed stuff, hence his average average, and you’d like a few more stolen bases out of your SS position.
193 Joe Borowski RP
2007 Line: 65.2 IP, 4 W, 45 SV, 58 K, 5.07 ERA, 1.43 WHIP
Word: I don’t have a problem with picking a closer here, but I am concerned about this particular closer. Borowski really only helps in the Save category. Sure, he’ll get plenty of opportunity closing games for a prolific Indians offense, but he was on a short leash last year and has Rafael Betancourt looming over his shoulder. It doesn't help that Detroit looks like a superpower in the AL Central, and the Tribe probably has little margin for error. He won’t strike out a ton of people, and he does get knocked around a lot. Just look at the ERA and WHIP – that’s ugly for a reliever. You’d like a guy who’s a little more well-rounded. But if he posts another 45 saves, I’ll live with it. If he loses his job, he’s going straight to the waiver wire. Without being the closer, he has no value, so I won’t be able to trade him.
200 AJ Pierzynski C
2007 Line: 124/472, 54 runs, 86 hits, 24 doubles, 14HR, 50RBI, 1 SB, .263 avg, .712 OPS
Word: I learned my lesson about drafting a premier catcher high last year. In one league I took Brian McCann in the third round, passing up on some solid boppers for a catcher who provides excellent offense – for a catcher. McCann struggled off and on the first two months, but rebounded to have a solid year. Still, it was a disappointment and the dearth of premium catchers is no reason to reach for one of the top four (V-Mart, Russell Martin, McCann, Joe Mauer). Pierzynski still hits for decent average and the HR and RBI are pretty solid. It helps that he plays his home games in the most hitter friendly park in the AL. And yeah, sure, he’s a headcase, but fortunately, his skipper is an even bigger nut, so he’s not going to be benched anytime soon.
221 Adam LaRoche 1b
2007 Line: 153/563, 71 runs, 90 hits, 42 doubles, 21HR, 88RBI, 1 SB, .272 avg, .803 OPS
Word: Man, did LaRoche fucking burn me last year. He had “excellent value pick” written all over him, so I took him in all three of my leagues. What did he do? Sucked horribly the first month and a half, they played average for another month before finishing well enough to post decent numbers. He still fell short of the 30HR, 100RBI estimates a lot of people were throwing out for him. His average the first month or so was around the Mendoza line. LaRoche has always been a notoriously slow starter, but it’s hard to imagine him being that bad for that long to start the season again. I still think he’s a pretty good value pick this year – he’s average in average, and is a plus fantasy contributor in HR, RBI and OPS thanks to a good batting eye.
228 Eric Chavez 3b
2007 Line: 82/341, 43 runs, 44 hits, 21 doubles, 2 triples, 15HR, 46RBI, 4 SB, .240 avg, .752 OPS
Word: I’m terribly scared about my 3B situation. Chavez is long removed from his monster 2004 and 2005 seasons. He’s never been good at hitting for average, but .240 is tough to swallow. His OPS has nosedived each of the last three years. His HR and RBI seem to still there – the production rate is still there, he just can’t stay healthy over the last two years to put up the numbers he projects to. Word is he’s already got neck and back issues and he hasn’t even reported to camp yet. If he stays healthy, hits 20 HR and drives in 85 runs or so, I can live with a .250 average for at least part of the season (until one of the young 3B prospects gets a mid-season call up). But that is a huge ‘if’.
249 Jason Giambi 1b
2007 Line: 60/254, 31 runs, 38 hits, 8 doubles, 14HR, 39RBI, 1 SB, .236 avg, .789 OPS
Word: NO THANKYOU! A 37 year old “slugger” who’s power and OPS have been in decline for three years now, who has never hit for average, whose knees are so bad he can hardly play 1B anymore, who’s so brittle that he broke his foot last year rounding second base during a homerun trot? Not for me. I’m dumping Giambi ASAP.
256 Heath Bell RP
2007 Line: 93.2 IP, 6 W, 2 SV, 102 K, 2.02 ERA, 0.96 WHIP
Word: Like I said earlier, I’m very high on all San Diego pitchers. Bell was dynamite last year for the Pads. He’s their closer of the future, and here’s hoping the future comes sooner rather than later. He’s a good source of K’s for a reliever and that ERA and WHIP are excellent. Given San Diego’s offensive struggles and their quality pitching staff, bullpen guys like Bell also manage to stumble into some late-game win opportunities too.
277 Dmitri Young 1b
2007 Line: 147/460, 57 runs, 95 hits, 38 doubles, 1 triple, 13HR, 74RBI, .320 avg, .869 OPS
Word: I wouldn’t mind keeping Young because he’s always hit for average, and I’ve got to counter balance some of my whiffers somehow. He’s alright in terms of RBI’s too, and with the move to a newer, more hitter-friendly park, his HR could improve a little bit too. His OPS is pretty good too, thanks to a patient approach at the plate and his contact hitting skills. One thing troubles me – Nick Johnson is supposedly healthy again, and will steal playing time. I can’t imagine Young staying on my roster all year, but he could be a guy who is on and off and on and off whenever I’m trying to play catch-up in the AVG and OPS stats.
284 Greg Maddux SP
2007 Line: 198 IP, 14 W, 1CG, 104 K, 4.14 ERA, 1.24 WHIP
Word: Maddux might not have the same stuff, but he’s just as crafty as ever. Unfortunately, his only value at this point is in the Wins column. He’s still ownable, but might only be start-able at home in PETCO park.
305 Ryan Freel 3b, OF
2007 Line: 68/277, 44 runs, 49 hits, 13 doubles, 3 triples, 3HR, 16RBI, 15 SB, .245 avg, .655 OPS
Word: Freel is another one trick pony. Yes, he’s versatile, but he his only value is the occasional stolen base. Last year he was injured and "off" and his one good fantasy contribution was down, way down. He had 3 straight years of 36 steals or more. Given some of the Reds talented young outfielders, he might not even get the same opportunities as he has in years past. I feel like I’ve got good enough sources of steals on the roster, so I’m going to look for someone who might contribute in more than one category.
I'll update the roster moves I've made in the weeks since the draft in the next couple of days.
Sunday, February 24, 2008
CCC: Meet The Fockers
Welcome all ye members of the Celluloid Critics Counsel. Bienvenue. There's just one item on today's agenda, and it's the 2004 comedy Meet the Fockers. In case you've been living under a rock (like I apparently have been for four years) 
this is the sequel to the hit comedy Meet the Parents.
That original film was basically carried by the tension between Robert DeNiro and Ben Stiller. DeNiro again reprises his role as co-protagonist Jack Byrnes, only this time Stiller has already gained his place within the circle of trust. So most of the comedic moments of the film are left to the tension between DeNiro and Stiller's "out-there" parents, Bernie and Roz Focker, played by Dustin Hoffman and Barbara Streisand.
Many of the same foibles are in place, but most have just been transferred to another character. Jack's obsession with training has gone from his cat to his new grandson. The compulsive urge to satisfy and please is a ball no longer carried by Stiller, but now mostly by Hoffman, trying to impress his soon to be in-laws.
As usual, De Niro's character operates in the stiff, uptight manner you'd expect of a CIA lifer, one that makes everyone else seem goofy by comparison. Hoffman's character is the polar opposite, a throw-back hippie who apparently once had a promising career as an attorney derailed by his own insistence to not take life too seriously. He practices martial arts shirtless in his front yard, he's touchy-feely to the point of being creepy, and he celebrates bane, meaningless accomplishments as if they required Herculean effort (he keeps a "trophy room" full of Greg's accomplishments, even though most are 9th & 10th place finishes from grade-school competitions).
While the two males are at extreme ends of the spectrum, their wives differ in a much more modest contrast. Stiller's mother is a sex therapist for the elderly, a job that would surely infuriate DeNiro more if he weren't so consumed with Hoffman being a non-traditional husband.
The clash of backgrounds leads to a number of good laughs, some more predictable than others, and as you may expect in such a 2 x 2 configuration, one group is going to turn one member of the other family, leading to additional tension. That's exactly what happens when Diane Byrnes embraces some of Roz's new-age teachings and tries to get Jack to loosen up. In one of my favorite scenes, Jack, at wit's end, piles back into his RV and drives off, abandoning his new in-laws, his wife, daughter and her fiancee, and absconding with his grandson in hopes that he won't turn out as bizarre and distasteful as the rest of his family.
Some of the scenes seemed crowbared in to try to squeeze in a few more laughs. A prime example was Stiller's speech during a dinner and night out at a small local club. While many of the scenes aren't all that believable, this one seemed less plausible than all the others, and worst yet, forced. There was also a little too much focus put on a teenage boy who looked similar to Greg. Did the makers of the film think that the audience was so dumb that they wouldn't get the first few references that this boy might be Greg's seed? It seemed like they just kept hammering and hammering away at it - I thought that got old really quickly.
But by far, the biggest flaw to the film was the onslaught of Gaylord Focker jokes. We get it - his name sounds like "gay fucker." I thought they pretty much beat that joke to death in the first film, but was I wrong. I was at least expecting a new play on the Focker name, like Stiller's dad being named Bud Focker or some sort of new innuendo.
Overall, there were still a lot of laughs in it, but the annoyance factor diminishes the re-watchability. Hoffman and Streisand are so over the top liberal hippies that you want to choke them at times - it's like they're from another planet or something. That's part of the reason it's so funny to watch at least once, but also part of the reason you get diminishing returns with continued viewings.
Final Grade: 6.5/10
this is the sequel to the hit comedy Meet the Parents.That original film was basically carried by the tension between Robert DeNiro and Ben Stiller. DeNiro again reprises his role as co-protagonist Jack Byrnes, only this time Stiller has already gained his place within the circle of trust. So most of the comedic moments of the film are left to the tension between DeNiro and Stiller's "out-there" parents, Bernie and Roz Focker, played by Dustin Hoffman and Barbara Streisand.
Many of the same foibles are in place, but most have just been transferred to another character. Jack's obsession with training has gone from his cat to his new grandson. The compulsive urge to satisfy and please is a ball no longer carried by Stiller, but now mostly by Hoffman, trying to impress his soon to be in-laws.
As usual, De Niro's character operates in the stiff, uptight manner you'd expect of a CIA lifer, one that makes everyone else seem goofy by comparison. Hoffman's character is the polar opposite, a throw-back hippie who apparently once had a promising career as an attorney derailed by his own insistence to not take life too seriously. He practices martial arts shirtless in his front yard, he's touchy-feely to the point of being creepy, and he celebrates bane, meaningless accomplishments as if they required Herculean effort (he keeps a "trophy room" full of Greg's accomplishments, even though most are 9th & 10th place finishes from grade-school competitions).
While the two males are at extreme ends of the spectrum, their wives differ in a much more modest contrast. Stiller's mother is a sex therapist for the elderly, a job that would surely infuriate DeNiro more if he weren't so consumed with Hoffman being a non-traditional husband.
The clash of backgrounds leads to a number of good laughs, some more predictable than others, and as you may expect in such a 2 x 2 configuration, one group is going to turn one member of the other family, leading to additional tension. That's exactly what happens when Diane Byrnes embraces some of Roz's new-age teachings and tries to get Jack to loosen up. In one of my favorite scenes, Jack, at wit's end, piles back into his RV and drives off, abandoning his new in-laws, his wife, daughter and her fiancee, and absconding with his grandson in hopes that he won't turn out as bizarre and distasteful as the rest of his family.
Some of the scenes seemed crowbared in to try to squeeze in a few more laughs. A prime example was Stiller's speech during a dinner and night out at a small local club. While many of the scenes aren't all that believable, this one seemed less plausible than all the others, and worst yet, forced. There was also a little too much focus put on a teenage boy who looked similar to Greg. Did the makers of the film think that the audience was so dumb that they wouldn't get the first few references that this boy might be Greg's seed? It seemed like they just kept hammering and hammering away at it - I thought that got old really quickly.
But by far, the biggest flaw to the film was the onslaught of Gaylord Focker jokes. We get it - his name sounds like "gay fucker." I thought they pretty much beat that joke to death in the first film, but was I wrong. I was at least expecting a new play on the Focker name, like Stiller's dad being named Bud Focker or some sort of new innuendo.
Overall, there were still a lot of laughs in it, but the annoyance factor diminishes the re-watchability. Hoffman and Streisand are so over the top liberal hippies that you want to choke them at times - it's like they're from another planet or something. That's part of the reason it's so funny to watch at least once, but also part of the reason you get diminishing returns with continued viewings.
Final Grade: 6.5/10
Diary of a Cat
Day 765
Decapitated a mouse and brought the headless body to those who have detained me in an attempt to make them aware of what I am capable of and to strike fear into their hearts. They only cooed and condescended about what a good little cat I was. This is not working according to my plan.
~Whiskers
Day 788
I have to get out of here. I am finally aware of how sadistic they are. For no good reason I was chosen for the water torture. This time, however, it included a burning foamy chemical they called "shampoo." What sick minds could invent such a liquid. My only consolation is the piece of thumb still stuck between my claws.
~Whiskers
Day 817
There was some sort of gathering of their accomplices earlier tonight. I was placed in solitary throughout the event. However, I could hear the noise they were making and smell the foul odor of the glass tubes they call "beer." More importantly, I overheard that my confinement was due to MY power of "allergies." I do not know what power this is or how I wield it, but if I am ever to escape, I must learn and master these "allergies" to use to my advantage.
~Whiskers
Day 855
I am convinced the other captives are flunkies and maybe snitches, put here to earn my trust and gain influence over me. The dog is routinely released and seems more than happy to return. He is obviously a half-wit. The Bird on the other hand has got to be an informant. He has mastered their frightful tongue, something akin to mole-speak, and speaks with them regularly. I am certain he reports my every move. Due to his current placement in his metal room his safety is assured. But I can wait. It's only a matter of time before they slip up and leave him vulnerable. And I will be prepared to pounce with ferocity when that happens.
~ Whiskers
Day 912
At last, the scientific community is acknowledging some of my awesome feline powers, and of all people to finally recognize the power my breathren and I hold, it's those silly yokels up in Minnesota. Researchers have figured out that by keeping a cat around and pleasing us into good spirits that we can use our awesome mind powers to help reduce the likelihood of heart attacks and strokes in these weak humans.
Not to tip our hand, but this is just the top of the iceberg of our powers. If I wanted to elude my captors and run off I could rip this prision of theirs to shreds with a flick of my tail. That bird, all the way up there in his metal safety room, could come crashing down with the low rumble of my purring. The Half-Wit would run yelping to pee on the carpet with a wave of my paw.
~Whiskers
Tuesday, February 19, 2008
Weekly Meeting of the Celluloid Critics Counsel
Been watching some movies lately. Already wrote about some of them like Equilibrium (good) and Pulp Fiction (sucked ass). Actually, as a follow-up to that Pulp Fiction review, I brought up the film with Pat and Danielle over dinner at Roma's last Friday. Danielle couldn't remember it too well, on account that I'm 14 years behind the times on this one. Pat tried to engage me in a battle of mental wits, but eventually, right before he officially lost the arguement, played the Danielle "I don't remember the movie that well" card. Before bowing out rather than taking his loss he tried to say Sam Jackson's character's spiritual awakening equaled some sort of plot.
Take your losses like a man, Terminator! This isn't chess; you don't get to surrender. I don't play by the Geneva Convention - no white flags allowed, I take my loser prisoners out back and put them in a shallow grave.
Anyways, I've been sitting on my duff a lot catching up on some old films. Maybe I'll make this a regular feature or something. Be warned, THIS REVIEW MAY CONTAIN SPOILERS.
Today, let's get rolling with 2002's Confessions of a Dangerous Mind. Many of you may not remember this film, on account that it sucked, which is why I provided a link to it. It was a commercial failure, which inexplicably gained some sort of cult following and got it re-released. Sounds like Fight Club only this one sucked. Actually it was nothing like Fight Club. I was just thinking of another movie that bombed commercially and that one was the first one to come to mind. Plenty of good movies have fizzled commercially, but time has reflected favorably on a number of them. You can skip the rest of the review and go watch one of them if you want, or, if you're some sort of sadist, just keep reading.
The film is the supposed life story of Chuck Barris, a man of many talents. It is based on his unsubstantiated biography of the same name. He wrote some rather successful pop songs, wrote numerous hit gameshows in the '70's (The Dating Game, Newlywed Game, Gong Show) and claims to have been a CIA spy/hitman. I use the word claims because in my limited and brief research I have been unable to verify whether or not that part was actually true.
In essence, that's one of the main problems I have with this film. It leaves too many questions. As a viewer, it's tough to go along for the ride and enjoy the movie when there's such a mismatch of careers for one character. One can't help but spend a good portion of the film questioning the validity of any of of what the lead character claims. It's a truly bizarre coupling of professions, and given that Barris has an extensive background creativly thinking up bright ideas for tv shows, you have to wonder if the CIA hitman thing was a figment of his imagination.
Barris is played, suprisingly well, by Sam Rockwell. At the begining of the film he's trying to get his break in the entertainment industry and is nothing more than a hustling poon-hound. He falls ass-backward into a brief songwriting career which keeps him on the fringes of the industry. He keeps stringing along his longtime girlfriend, who is played by the always forgettable Drew Barrymore. Initially, The Dating Game, his first gameshow idea, is shot down.
While he's down on his luck, Barris is approached by a man claiming to be a CIA operative, portrayed by George Clooney. He claims that Barris fits the profile of the type of agent the CIA is looking for. With nothing better to do, Barris goes along with the training, which is another underdeveloped portion of the film that leaves me with plenty of questions. It's glossed over almost entirely - I'm left with the impression that all it takes to become a CIA assassin is one weekend at a retreat. Totally baffling.
Intrigued by the danger and mystery, Barris launches himself into his new career, only to finally find inroads into the enterainment career he's so desperately wanted. As he tries to pull out of the CIA work he finds himself becoming more and more paranoid about suffering the repercussions. He eventually does a rather entertaining juggling act of the two jobs - but again, it seems more than a little implausible.
I actually enjoyed the film up until about the three-quarter mark, flaws and all. Watching Barris chase women or whatever steady work he could kick up was entertaining. But eventually, he got too deep into a bizarrly interwound world and the film lost me.
It started with Julia Roberts being introduced into the film as a fellow spy. She and Barris become romantically involved over a period of time and the film climaxes with the longtime on-again off-again relationship of Barris and Berrymore colliding with the new fling of Barris and Roberts. Even though this is probably the most believable, relatable part of the movie, it just ground everything to a halt. Barris, the life-long hustler, always running from problems, conning his way into and out of trouble, finally faces a situation he can't turn his back on. He loses both women and lives out his days in a rather unhinged state, taking up habitat in a New York hotel room, not shaving, wandering the room nude and recounting his version of his life in what would become his biography.
Overall, I have to give the film about a five on a scale of ten. If I were in a better mood, I might go as high as a 5.5. I have little interest in ever rewatching this film. I did not come away from this film satisfied or entertained. My initial reaction immediately after the film was one of confusion, as I've stated, I was left so vehemently questioning the authenticity of a crazy man's autobiography that it really affected my perception of the film as a whole.
If we're handing out individual grades, I have to give Sam Rockwell an A+. He brought plenty of energy to a squirrely role that really required it. He was so good at the shifty leech trying to suck onto the television or movie business that it really got me irritated watching him. He was great. George Clooney gave a typical George Clooney performance: the man was as dull and lifeless as wallpaper. I don't know if I've ever seen him be good in anything. He's like Ben Affleck, only everyone is still living in a bubble with him. I don't get his career. His "recruitment" of Barris as a CIA agent was perplexing. He was alright at times when Barris wanted out and he had to strongarm him into remaining with the Agency, but overall his performance was as flat as a heartattack.
The ladies of the film were equally bland. Julia Roberts sleptwalked through her performance. Was she supposed to be that calloused as a part of her character's profile? I don't know, but it was pretty boring to me. Drew Barrymore is another one that I can't figure out why she still gets parts. When was the last time she was in something that was good? Is she still living off of E.T. fame? Her last big box office movie was 2000's Charlie's Angels. The film sucked and she was the least attractive one, but it did well at the box office, so I guess that entitles her to keep getting parts for another 8 years. I'll give her a little bit of credit, the emotional scene where she comes home to find Barris with Julia Roberts was well done. It would've been easy to overact that scene, but her performance seems to jive well with her character's laisse-faire, hippie background.
So, all in all, it was a pretty forgettable piece of cinema.
UPDATE:
Think I just figured out why some of the performances were so flat. Roberts and Berrymore took the roles as a favor to George Clooney, who doubled as the director. A part of that favor was to do the roles for scale, about $250k apiece. No wonder they had no motivation.
Take your losses like a man, Terminator! This isn't chess; you don't get to surrender. I don't play by the Geneva Convention - no white flags allowed, I take my loser prisoners out back and put them in a shallow grave.
Anyways, I've been sitting on my duff a lot catching up on some old films. Maybe I'll make this a regular feature or something. Be warned, THIS REVIEW MAY CONTAIN SPOILERS.
Today, let's get rolling with 2002's Confessions of a Dangerous Mind. Many of you may not remember this film, on account that it sucked, which is why I provided a link to it. It was a commercial failure, which inexplicably gained some sort of cult following and got it re-released. Sounds like Fight Club only this one sucked. Actually it was nothing like Fight Club. I was just thinking of another movie that bombed commercially and that one was the first one to come to mind. Plenty of good movies have fizzled commercially, but time has reflected favorably on a number of them. You can skip the rest of the review and go watch one of them if you want, or, if you're some sort of sadist, just keep reading.
The film is the supposed life story of Chuck Barris, a man of many talents. It is based on his unsubstantiated biography of the same name. He wrote some rather successful pop songs, wrote numerous hit gameshows in the '70's (The Dating Game, Newlywed Game, Gong Show) and claims to have been a CIA spy/hitman. I use the word claims because in my limited and brief research I have been unable to verify whether or not that part was actually true.
In essence, that's one of the main problems I have with this film. It leaves too many questions. As a viewer, it's tough to go along for the ride and enjoy the movie when there's such a mismatch of careers for one character. One can't help but spend a good portion of the film questioning the validity of any of of what the lead character claims. It's a truly bizarre coupling of professions, and given that Barris has an extensive background creativly thinking up bright ideas for tv shows, you have to wonder if the CIA hitman thing was a figment of his imagination.
Barris is played, suprisingly well, by Sam Rockwell. At the begining of the film he's trying to get his break in the entertainment industry and is nothing more than a hustling poon-hound. He falls ass-backward into a brief songwriting career which keeps him on the fringes of the industry. He keeps stringing along his longtime girlfriend, who is played by the always forgettable Drew Barrymore. Initially, The Dating Game, his first gameshow idea, is shot down.
While he's down on his luck, Barris is approached by a man claiming to be a CIA operative, portrayed by George Clooney. He claims that Barris fits the profile of the type of agent the CIA is looking for. With nothing better to do, Barris goes along with the training, which is another underdeveloped portion of the film that leaves me with plenty of questions. It's glossed over almost entirely - I'm left with the impression that all it takes to become a CIA assassin is one weekend at a retreat. Totally baffling.
Intrigued by the danger and mystery, Barris launches himself into his new career, only to finally find inroads into the enterainment career he's so desperately wanted. As he tries to pull out of the CIA work he finds himself becoming more and more paranoid about suffering the repercussions. He eventually does a rather entertaining juggling act of the two jobs - but again, it seems more than a little implausible.
I actually enjoyed the film up until about the three-quarter mark, flaws and all. Watching Barris chase women or whatever steady work he could kick up was entertaining. But eventually, he got too deep into a bizarrly interwound world and the film lost me.
It started with Julia Roberts being introduced into the film as a fellow spy. She and Barris become romantically involved over a period of time and the film climaxes with the longtime on-again off-again relationship of Barris and Berrymore colliding with the new fling of Barris and Roberts. Even though this is probably the most believable, relatable part of the movie, it just ground everything to a halt. Barris, the life-long hustler, always running from problems, conning his way into and out of trouble, finally faces a situation he can't turn his back on. He loses both women and lives out his days in a rather unhinged state, taking up habitat in a New York hotel room, not shaving, wandering the room nude and recounting his version of his life in what would become his biography.
Overall, I have to give the film about a five on a scale of ten. If I were in a better mood, I might go as high as a 5.5. I have little interest in ever rewatching this film. I did not come away from this film satisfied or entertained. My initial reaction immediately after the film was one of confusion, as I've stated, I was left so vehemently questioning the authenticity of a crazy man's autobiography that it really affected my perception of the film as a whole.
If we're handing out individual grades, I have to give Sam Rockwell an A+. He brought plenty of energy to a squirrely role that really required it. He was so good at the shifty leech trying to suck onto the television or movie business that it really got me irritated watching him. He was great. George Clooney gave a typical George Clooney performance: the man was as dull and lifeless as wallpaper. I don't know if I've ever seen him be good in anything. He's like Ben Affleck, only everyone is still living in a bubble with him. I don't get his career. His "recruitment" of Barris as a CIA agent was perplexing. He was alright at times when Barris wanted out and he had to strongarm him into remaining with the Agency, but overall his performance was as flat as a heartattack.
The ladies of the film were equally bland. Julia Roberts sleptwalked through her performance. Was she supposed to be that calloused as a part of her character's profile? I don't know, but it was pretty boring to me. Drew Barrymore is another one that I can't figure out why she still gets parts. When was the last time she was in something that was good? Is she still living off of E.T. fame? Her last big box office movie was 2000's Charlie's Angels. The film sucked and she was the least attractive one, but it did well at the box office, so I guess that entitles her to keep getting parts for another 8 years. I'll give her a little bit of credit, the emotional scene where she comes home to find Barris with Julia Roberts was well done. It would've been easy to overact that scene, but her performance seems to jive well with her character's laisse-faire, hippie background.
So, all in all, it was a pretty forgettable piece of cinema.
UPDATE:
Think I just figured out why some of the performances were so flat. Roberts and Berrymore took the roles as a favor to George Clooney, who doubled as the director. A part of that favor was to do the roles for scale, about $250k apiece. No wonder they had no motivation.
Only Suckers Work Five Day Workweeks
I had another breakthrough in the script for "PAGEANT" today. It involves one of the Saturday evening scenes. I was thinking for several weeks now of how to do it up, and today it just came to me - the music, what footage I want to use, some cut-scenes I want to splice in. I'm typing up the scene now. If only everything were this easy.
Most of the film is now loosely scripted. If I were a better artist I'd storyboard some of it. I'm about to the point where I'll shoot the additional footage I want and start piecing scenes together.
Most of the film is now loosely scripted. If I were a better artist I'd storyboard some of it. I'm about to the point where I'll shoot the additional footage I want and start piecing scenes together.
Monday, February 18, 2008
I Have a Newfound Appreciation for Presidents
I think it has something to do with the office observing Presidents' Day for the first time in the 7 or 8 years I've worked there.
Of course, it is kind of a crummy day to be off of work, but beggars can't be choosers. It's about 30 degrees and the forecast called for isolated flurries, but judging from the fat, steady flakes coming down, this has accumulation written all over it. Hopefully we get another 8-9 inches like a couple of Fridays ago.
I am working today, kind of, but I'm not dressed up, I'm blasting Howard Stern on the radio, got a movie playing aimlessly on the tv, got all kinds of stuff going on on my second computer. Maybe I'll go for a bike ride in the snow. I think that would be a surreal scene.
I'm in a good mood because my really annoying neighbor, the single mother of at least 3, maybe 4, moved out yesterday. Gone are the junk toys littering their front yard. Gone are the goddamnned kids banging into the wall 20 hours a day. Gone is the subsequent shrieking and screaming after the kids broke something or wouldn't shut up. All that remains is peace and quiet and a now placid Bill.
Living on ground-level, the brats were always playing outside my window, running around, screaming right in front of my place (it's an adjoined yard). I'd find little handprints on my truck from where they'd played ring around the Ford F-150 or something. They were real careful to not let me see them doing it - I guess they sensed my protective nature. One time they knocked on my door and said they'd accidentally thrown a frisbee in the bed and asked if they could retrieve it. I told them no, that I'd get the fucking thing out, and then I lectured them for throwing things around that could hit other people's property. I told them to play in the street. I barely got that one out and kept a straight face.
I never got a grill because I figured the little shitheads would be hanging on it on my back patio or tip it over or something, but I want to go buy one right now and grill some steaks in this sub-freezing weather, just to beget my new peaceful solitude. It also works as a giant "fuck you," too.
Of course, it is kind of a crummy day to be off of work, but beggars can't be choosers. It's about 30 degrees and the forecast called for isolated flurries, but judging from the fat, steady flakes coming down, this has accumulation written all over it. Hopefully we get another 8-9 inches like a couple of Fridays ago.
I am working today, kind of, but I'm not dressed up, I'm blasting Howard Stern on the radio, got a movie playing aimlessly on the tv, got all kinds of stuff going on on my second computer. Maybe I'll go for a bike ride in the snow. I think that would be a surreal scene.
I'm in a good mood because my really annoying neighbor, the single mother of at least 3, maybe 4, moved out yesterday. Gone are the junk toys littering their front yard. Gone are the goddamnned kids banging into the wall 20 hours a day. Gone is the subsequent shrieking and screaming after the kids broke something or wouldn't shut up. All that remains is peace and quiet and a now placid Bill.
Living on ground-level, the brats were always playing outside my window, running around, screaming right in front of my place (it's an adjoined yard). I'd find little handprints on my truck from where they'd played ring around the Ford F-150 or something. They were real careful to not let me see them doing it - I guess they sensed my protective nature. One time they knocked on my door and said they'd accidentally thrown a frisbee in the bed and asked if they could retrieve it. I told them no, that I'd get the fucking thing out, and then I lectured them for throwing things around that could hit other people's property. I told them to play in the street. I barely got that one out and kept a straight face.
I never got a grill because I figured the little shitheads would be hanging on it on my back patio or tip it over or something, but I want to go buy one right now and grill some steaks in this sub-freezing weather, just to beget my new peaceful solitude. It also works as a giant "fuck you," too.
Thursday, February 14, 2008
More Movies - Equilibrium
I've been on a Christian Bale kick recently. This guy is vastly .jpg)
underrated. Today I'm watching Equilibrium, a 2002 flick that seems to me like a blend of The Matrix and The Thirteenth Floor. It stars Bale, and a secondary cast including Tye Diggs and Emily Watson.
The future is a dsystopian society where human emotion is illegal, and anything that evokes emotion - art, music, pictures, film, books and even certain furnishings - are contraban. The government helps suppress emotion in people by providing drugs, injected several times a day, to block emotions.
The government has a force of highly trained and intuitive enforcers to seek out those who skip their medication and harbor artwork -- sense offenders as they are labeled. Bale is the best of these enforcers, known as clerics.
The man is every bit as effective as you think a highly trained killer doped up to be as emotionless as a robot. But things go to hell when he accidentally breaks a vial of his drug doesn't have time to go get a replacement dose.
Intrigued by these new feelings, his first feelings, Bale begins skipping all his doses. After busting, and having to kill, his partner for not cataloging and destroying all contraband, Bale himself starts to become like him, while his new partner gets skeptical at some of his behavior. In one gutwrenching scene, the squad finds a pen of dogs -- contraband -- and without batting an eye, all but one are gunned down.
Bale spends much of the middle portion of the film exporing his emotions deeper and deeper, making contact with the lover of his former partner to try to free her, and sniffing out the underground to mount an assassination of the Father - the head of the government. As word leaks out that a high-ranking cleric is off his interval and working with the resistance, Bale faces greater scritiny and must work more carefully. He begins questioning his devotion to the resistance, but ultimately reaffirms his belief in humanity by revisiting the footage of his former wife, who was found guilty of the crime of missing her doses and feeling and was sentenced to death.
I don't want to go on much more, for two reasons. I don't want to ruin the movie any further if you've never seen it, but more importantly, the last thirty minutes or so are positively spellbinding. The action is some of the best I've ever seen, and I know I could not do it justice.
Overall, the plot was very solid for an action flick. These things have a way of falling apart, for a variety of reasons. Sometimes they get too involved with describing the future, they get hung up on gizmos and technology, that the story or the acting isn't up to par. But that wasn't the case here. The story holds up, if you can believe the plausibility of this future environment, and there were sufficient twists to keep you involved. The characters were all adequatley developed, with a scene towards the end showing the depth of Bale and his son, Bale's former partner and even the Father. The supporting cast all fit into their roles nicely, and back up the featured actors very well. The action is highly, highly entertaining. This being a futuristic setting, there's always a concern that too much computer animations will be used to show a high-tech, highly evolved urban environment. That was kept in check here - the focus was on the characters, not on all the masturbatory wanking of a director or producer fawning over a utopian city. The camera angles and shots were all very good, at times there seemed to be a few short shots crammed in to maximize some of the fighting and shootouts, but I don't have a problem with any of that.
Adding up all of that I'd have to give this an 8 to 8.5 on a scale of 10. The rewatchability of this film is ok, definitely not a Godfather-type insta-classic, but it's not a one-and-done viewing either. Considering it was made six years ago, I think the movie still holds up well in the present day. If we were using a five-star scale, I'd give it a four, but with more wiggle room on the 10 point scale, I'd give it the slight bump. Very good film.
underrated. Today I'm watching Equilibrium, a 2002 flick that seems to me like a blend of The Matrix and The Thirteenth Floor. It stars Bale, and a secondary cast including Tye Diggs and Emily Watson.The future is a dsystopian society where human emotion is illegal, and anything that evokes emotion - art, music, pictures, film, books and even certain furnishings - are contraban. The government helps suppress emotion in people by providing drugs, injected several times a day, to block emotions.
The government has a force of highly trained and intuitive enforcers to seek out those who skip their medication and harbor artwork -- sense offenders as they are labeled. Bale is the best of these enforcers, known as clerics.
The man is every bit as effective as you think a highly trained killer doped up to be as emotionless as a robot. But things go to hell when he accidentally breaks a vial of his drug doesn't have time to go get a replacement dose.
Intrigued by these new feelings, his first feelings, Bale begins skipping all his doses. After busting, and having to kill, his partner for not cataloging and destroying all contraband, Bale himself starts to become like him, while his new partner gets skeptical at some of his behavior. In one gutwrenching scene, the squad finds a pen of dogs -- contraband -- and without batting an eye, all but one are gunned down.
Bale spends much of the middle portion of the film exporing his emotions deeper and deeper, making contact with the lover of his former partner to try to free her, and sniffing out the underground to mount an assassination of the Father - the head of the government. As word leaks out that a high-ranking cleric is off his interval and working with the resistance, Bale faces greater scritiny and must work more carefully. He begins questioning his devotion to the resistance, but ultimately reaffirms his belief in humanity by revisiting the footage of his former wife, who was found guilty of the crime of missing her doses and feeling and was sentenced to death.
I don't want to go on much more, for two reasons. I don't want to ruin the movie any further if you've never seen it, but more importantly, the last thirty minutes or so are positively spellbinding. The action is some of the best I've ever seen, and I know I could not do it justice.
Overall, the plot was very solid for an action flick. These things have a way of falling apart, for a variety of reasons. Sometimes they get too involved with describing the future, they get hung up on gizmos and technology, that the story or the acting isn't up to par. But that wasn't the case here. The story holds up, if you can believe the plausibility of this future environment, and there were sufficient twists to keep you involved. The characters were all adequatley developed, with a scene towards the end showing the depth of Bale and his son, Bale's former partner and even the Father. The supporting cast all fit into their roles nicely, and back up the featured actors very well. The action is highly, highly entertaining. This being a futuristic setting, there's always a concern that too much computer animations will be used to show a high-tech, highly evolved urban environment. That was kept in check here - the focus was on the characters, not on all the masturbatory wanking of a director or producer fawning over a utopian city. The camera angles and shots were all very good, at times there seemed to be a few short shots crammed in to maximize some of the fighting and shootouts, but I don't have a problem with any of that.
Adding up all of that I'd have to give this an 8 to 8.5 on a scale of 10. The rewatchability of this film is ok, definitely not a Godfather-type insta-classic, but it's not a one-and-done viewing either. Considering it was made six years ago, I think the movie still holds up well in the present day. If we were using a five-star scale, I'd give it a four, but with more wiggle room on the 10 point scale, I'd give it the slight bump. Very good film.
I've Never Seen Pulp Fiction
So I got bored and decided to watch it. Let's lay out some ground rules going in.
First Scene
A British man and woman sit in a diner talking about the best businesses to rob. After about four minutes of pointless banter, they decide to rob the diner they're in.
Scene Two
Travolta and Samuel Jackson play hitmen or enforcers. They drive around talking in sections of dialog that seem to have no bearing on the plot. They walk into a building talking more nonsense, weighing the similarities of rubbing a woman's feet versus performing cunnilingus. This too seems to have no bearing on the plot. They bust in on some kids who have apparently screwed their boss. In typical Tarentino fashion, there's more blowhard conversation followed by gratuitous violence.
Travolta scores cocaine, although not without a lengthy dialogue, then drives around stoned. He goes to pick up the boss' wife to take her out and entertain her while the bossman is out of town. She snorts a couple of lines and they leave.
I was briefly holding out hope that these might be more than just lowlife degenerates glorified by substance abuse, fucking and violence, but it doesn't look like things are going to pick up. These are nobodies going nowhere fast. There's no principle, no drive to become anything or accomplish something. If there were at least that, then you might be able to write off some of the degenerate behavior.
Travolta is rolling something, a joint or a cigarette. I'm guessing pot instead of tobacco, given these characters preference for hardcore narcotics. Seeing him rolling reminds me of a trip to Carbondale once. I was crashing on Ashley Laws' couch, a little boozed up, but mostly worn out from the total bombing from the night before. I've got a hoodie scrunched up over my face trying to grab some shuteye. I hear a ton of people come in and eventually some people just start sitting on me. I wake up and there's two drop-dead gorgeous blondes sitting on me. I sit up and start to mingle. After about five minutes of trying to talk up the babes, I finally notice there are about fifty people in this little apartment. There's a lot of shady characters too. It's about 2AM.
I continue talking to the blondes and they start bitching to me because their boyfriend, this guy angrily staring at me from across the room won't give them any more cocaine since they've left the club that just closed down the street. After awhile, I realize I have no chance of fucking either one, and their bitching suddenly goes from playful to annoying. I start to tune them out when a bunch of black guys run in the apartment, bringing the total count to about sixty people crammed in here, standing on top of each others' cocks.
The black guys ran in because they started trouble down the street or something and were being chased. So there's a group of dudes banging on the door and this asswipe standing there trying to get everyone to be quiet. Like they're going to think no one's home or something. So there's this big, angry sounding guy outside yelling, "bitch-assed motherfuckers" over and over and pounding on the door. Then, allegedly, someone took out their handgun and pistol-whipped the front window. I never saw the gun, but the window was broken the next morning.
I decided that would be a great time to go back to sleep. Eventually the coke whores left along with the rest of the flash flood crowd and I finally started to sleep on the couch. Then one of Pat's college buddies from SIUC (The Harvard of the Midwest, as they call it) started coming downstairs every half hour to roll a cigarette and smoke. It was the most annyoying fucking thing ever. At the bars the night before, this tool kept taking out a wooden box and rolling his own smokes. He had some cockameimie story about it being cheaper and tasting better, but I think he was just an asswipe. So every time I'm starting fall asleep, this fucker stumbles downstairs and starts turning on lights and clunking around to roll a cigarette.
Seing John Travolta roll reminded me of that. And I got just as angry now seeing him do it as I did that night.
Shows how bored I am with this movie, I just spent about twelve minutes recounting that story and as far as I can tell, I didn't miss anything besides Travolta and Uma Thurman smoking cigarette after cigarette and doing more dope.
Uma just stroked out from all the dope she did on her night out. There IS a god!
The only possible resolution to this movie that would make me happy is if every main character seen on screen so far dies. I'll leave it up to Tarentino whether they all go slow and painfully or if they quick and fiery. It doesn't matter to me.
I never thought I'd get to the point where I'd want to see some more of that second scene where Samuel Jackson talked and talked and talked in that ethnic slang and shot people for no outward apparent reason, but hearing Uma Thurman tell a joke after OD'ing on coke makes me long for it like never before.
And we have a Christopher Walken appearance. He plays a soldier who's talking to a boy whose father he fought alongside of and died. It's a nice scene, touching. Walken is good. I think the boy is Bruce Willis' character, the boxer Butch we saw several scenes back.
Bruce Willis didn't go down in the big fight like he was supposed to. Instead he killed the other fighter and now has people after him. This scene is grinding on and on and on. There's no fucking plot to this thing. It's four short stories about a bunch of lying, theiving murdering chumps. Bruce Willis' character could have a nice backstory worth telling. Dad died in Vietnam, he took his rage into a boxing career, got tangled up with the wrong people, killed a guy in a ring, had to live with unbearable guilt....but no, I just know Tarentino is going to fuck this up. He's already fucked it up by focusing the central storyline around the street thugs, not the guy who might be a ne'er-do-well. We'll probably have four more cut scenes forced into this film before we get any sort of payoff for this storyline. And it'll be a weak payoff. Willis is going to get whacked for screwing the mobster wannabe.
I'm very close to invoking the Doug Stanhope rule. Doug has a joke about suicide where, like a movie, if you've sat through half of a movie, and it's sucked EVERY SECOND so far, it's probably not going to get so good at the end to make it all worthwhile.
It's been 8 more minutes since I finished the last paragraph. In that span, Willis took a shower, his lady friend brushed her teeth, they fell asleep, woke up the next morning, she brushed her teeth again and he literally took three minutes to get out of bed. Oh, and she went on and on about what kind of pancakes she was going to order.
This thing blows. Tarentino is a hack. I would give it two stars out of ten, or one out of five. I'm an hour, twenty six minutes and 47 seconds in and the storylines have just started to touch ever so remotely on one another. Is this a fucking miniseries? What the hell? How long is Tarentino going to need to tie all this off? Everyone who loves -- no, even likes -- this piece of shit must be A.) a high school stoner, B.) an immature high school punk who likes liberal usage of the "F" word and senseless violence or C.) be braindead. I'm done, I'm out. I've got six other posts in mind to write and I can wrap them all up way better than Tarentino could finish this fucking movie.
- I am not a fan of Quentin Tarentino
- IMDb.com users rate this film an astonishing 8.8 out of 10 and rank it #5 in the top 250 movies of all-time. #1 is The Godfather. #2 is The Shawshank Redemption, #3 is The Godfather Pt II. No arguements from me so far. #4 is some foreign sounding film. Then comes this, tied with a bunch of other films.
- Amazon.com reviewers rank it about 4.5 out of 5 stars (528 five star, 69 four star, 44 three star, 29 two star, and 64 one star reviews)
- I do not like John Travolta, personally or professionally.
- I hold Bruce Willis' acting resume in very light regard
- Steve Buschemi is fucking great, all the time. He's never miscast; I don't know if this is a testament to his ability to seamlessly blend into whatever role he's put in or if he's constantly typecast as the wacky character all the time and just has that down.
First Scene
A British man and woman sit in a diner talking about the best businesses to rob. After about four minutes of pointless banter, they decide to rob the diner they're in.
Scene Two
Travolta and Samuel Jackson play hitmen or enforcers. They drive around talking in sections of dialog that seem to have no bearing on the plot. They walk into a building talking more nonsense, weighing the similarities of rubbing a woman's feet versus performing cunnilingus. This too seems to have no bearing on the plot. They bust in on some kids who have apparently screwed their boss. In typical Tarentino fashion, there's more blowhard conversation followed by gratuitous violence.
Travolta scores cocaine, although not without a lengthy dialogue, then drives around stoned. He goes to pick up the boss' wife to take her out and entertain her while the bossman is out of town. She snorts a couple of lines and they leave.
I was briefly holding out hope that these might be more than just lowlife degenerates glorified by substance abuse, fucking and violence, but it doesn't look like things are going to pick up. These are nobodies going nowhere fast. There's no principle, no drive to become anything or accomplish something. If there were at least that, then you might be able to write off some of the degenerate behavior.
Travolta is rolling something, a joint or a cigarette. I'm guessing pot instead of tobacco, given these characters preference for hardcore narcotics. Seeing him rolling reminds me of a trip to Carbondale once. I was crashing on Ashley Laws' couch, a little boozed up, but mostly worn out from the total bombing from the night before. I've got a hoodie scrunched up over my face trying to grab some shuteye. I hear a ton of people come in and eventually some people just start sitting on me. I wake up and there's two drop-dead gorgeous blondes sitting on me. I sit up and start to mingle. After about five minutes of trying to talk up the babes, I finally notice there are about fifty people in this little apartment. There's a lot of shady characters too. It's about 2AM.
I continue talking to the blondes and they start bitching to me because their boyfriend, this guy angrily staring at me from across the room won't give them any more cocaine since they've left the club that just closed down the street. After awhile, I realize I have no chance of fucking either one, and their bitching suddenly goes from playful to annoying. I start to tune them out when a bunch of black guys run in the apartment, bringing the total count to about sixty people crammed in here, standing on top of each others' cocks.
The black guys ran in because they started trouble down the street or something and were being chased. So there's a group of dudes banging on the door and this asswipe standing there trying to get everyone to be quiet. Like they're going to think no one's home or something. So there's this big, angry sounding guy outside yelling, "bitch-assed motherfuckers" over and over and pounding on the door. Then, allegedly, someone took out their handgun and pistol-whipped the front window. I never saw the gun, but the window was broken the next morning.
I decided that would be a great time to go back to sleep. Eventually the coke whores left along with the rest of the flash flood crowd and I finally started to sleep on the couch. Then one of Pat's college buddies from SIUC (The Harvard of the Midwest, as they call it) started coming downstairs every half hour to roll a cigarette and smoke. It was the most annyoying fucking thing ever. At the bars the night before, this tool kept taking out a wooden box and rolling his own smokes. He had some cockameimie story about it being cheaper and tasting better, but I think he was just an asswipe. So every time I'm starting fall asleep, this fucker stumbles downstairs and starts turning on lights and clunking around to roll a cigarette.
Seing John Travolta roll reminded me of that. And I got just as angry now seeing him do it as I did that night.
Shows how bored I am with this movie, I just spent about twelve minutes recounting that story and as far as I can tell, I didn't miss anything besides Travolta and Uma Thurman smoking cigarette after cigarette and doing more dope.
Uma just stroked out from all the dope she did on her night out. There IS a god!
The only possible resolution to this movie that would make me happy is if every main character seen on screen so far dies. I'll leave it up to Tarentino whether they all go slow and painfully or if they quick and fiery. It doesn't matter to me.
I never thought I'd get to the point where I'd want to see some more of that second scene where Samuel Jackson talked and talked and talked in that ethnic slang and shot people for no outward apparent reason, but hearing Uma Thurman tell a joke after OD'ing on coke makes me long for it like never before.
And we have a Christopher Walken appearance. He plays a soldier who's talking to a boy whose father he fought alongside of and died. It's a nice scene, touching. Walken is good. I think the boy is Bruce Willis' character, the boxer Butch we saw several scenes back.
Bruce Willis didn't go down in the big fight like he was supposed to. Instead he killed the other fighter and now has people after him. This scene is grinding on and on and on. There's no fucking plot to this thing. It's four short stories about a bunch of lying, theiving murdering chumps. Bruce Willis' character could have a nice backstory worth telling. Dad died in Vietnam, he took his rage into a boxing career, got tangled up with the wrong people, killed a guy in a ring, had to live with unbearable guilt....but no, I just know Tarentino is going to fuck this up. He's already fucked it up by focusing the central storyline around the street thugs, not the guy who might be a ne'er-do-well. We'll probably have four more cut scenes forced into this film before we get any sort of payoff for this storyline. And it'll be a weak payoff. Willis is going to get whacked for screwing the mobster wannabe.
I'm very close to invoking the Doug Stanhope rule. Doug has a joke about suicide where, like a movie, if you've sat through half of a movie, and it's sucked EVERY SECOND so far, it's probably not going to get so good at the end to make it all worthwhile.
It's been 8 more minutes since I finished the last paragraph. In that span, Willis took a shower, his lady friend brushed her teeth, they fell asleep, woke up the next morning, she brushed her teeth again and he literally took three minutes to get out of bed. Oh, and she went on and on about what kind of pancakes she was going to order.
This thing blows. Tarentino is a hack. I would give it two stars out of ten, or one out of five. I'm an hour, twenty six minutes and 47 seconds in and the storylines have just started to touch ever so remotely on one another. Is this a fucking miniseries? What the hell? How long is Tarentino going to need to tie all this off? Everyone who loves -- no, even likes -- this piece of shit must be A.) a high school stoner, B.) an immature high school punk who likes liberal usage of the "F" word and senseless violence or C.) be braindead. I'm done, I'm out. I've got six other posts in mind to write and I can wrap them all up way better than Tarentino could finish this fucking movie.
Saturday, February 9, 2008
Pedro Martinez is an Asshole
I knew I forgot something in my bulleted list of stuff below. I wanted to mention how Pedro Martinez is a dispicable human being. Ditto for Juan Marichal.
The two baseball greats were seen on a two year old video that popped up this week doing the ceremonial drop of cocks at a cockfight in the Dominican Republic. Pedro's bird (it wasn't actually his) got it's neck broken and died after about a minute and a half. Meanwhile, Pedro and Marichal sat at ringside smiling and having a good time watching animals kill each other for sport.
Cockfighting is legal in the Dominican, and what those people do there is their business. If most of the country gets its rocks off by forcing two birds into a ring until one kills the other that's fine, I'm just going to think they're animals on the same evolutionary bellcurve as the two feathered fowl in the fight. Marichal I sort of understand being a degenerate animal torturer because he made no money back when he played, so he's probably desperate to make a living. But Pedro?
According to baseball-reference.com, Pedro has the 9th highest career earnings among active ball players. His take: an estimated $134,446,234 in salary alone. I'm sure he's had plenty of endorsement deals through the years too. So he's not at a cockfight for the big gambling dollars.
Pedro has apologized, blamed the culture in his homeland and tried to deflect his attendence of such an event by saying he was simply a spectator, invited by his childhood idol Marichal. Kinda like how sorry Michael Vick was and how he tried to blame the dog-fighting culture of the po' folks' in the deep, deep South. It was mularky when Vick tried that excuse and although Martinez isn't financing the cockfight, I'm still throwing my bullshit challenge flag on the first two parts of his defense. I wouldn't be party to anything I personally disagreed with no matter who invited me or how many of my buddies were there. His presence there sends all the message one needs to know: Pedro doesn't care about some dumb chickens; he's fine with it, they're just stupid birds.
I knew a guy who used to bitch to me about every black football player who got in trouble with the law. He'd say you can take the [African-American football player] out of the ghetto, but you can't take the ghetto out of [African-American football player]. His quasi-racist views aside, the guy did have a point that seems applicable to this situation. His implication was that no matter where someone comes from, how much talent they have, fame they garner or money they earn, you're still the person you were before you had all that, no matter how much you change superficially. Pedro can win all the Cy Youngs he wants, all the World Series titles, he can rack up the wins and the strikeouts, we can put him up on a pedestal and shower him with $140 million and he's still going to be the uneducated moron who's brain got fried by too much tropical sun as a youth and who doesn't mind forcing one animal to kill another for his entertainment and amusement.
Watching this video made me a little queasy. It wasn't too bad. I was mostly a little disappointed in Pedro, and fairly angry, but it was a little repulsive. Which got me to thinking about the most repulsive videos I've ever seen. I have a sick compulsion to see every disgusting thing that I don't really need to see. I rushed out and watched that Sadam Hussein hanging video. That wasn't too bad. Maybe it's my generation that is innundated with seeing video of everything. Maybe it's some defect in the wiring in my brain. But I hear about gory videos of things I definitely do not want or need to see and I can't help but watching them. Most disgusting things, I'm fairly insensitive to, but I'm not impervious to everything.
The #2 most nauseating video I've ever seen was Buffalo Sabres goaltender Clint Malarchuk getting his jugular sliced by a skate blade. An opposing forward collided with him and his skate sliced open his throat. Malarchuk rolled over onto his belly and began clutching at his throat as a large pool of crimson began forming on the ice. Nine fans fainted, two suffered heart attacks, numerous ones just up and left the building they were so disgusted, and as Malarchuk lay there convinced he was going to die on the ice, players vomited around him. The video is on YouTube if you really want to see it. I'm not looking it up to link to it, I don't want to see it again. Once was one time too many. I'm clutching my own throat just thinking about it.
Fortunately for Malarchuk, the Sabres team trainer was a guy named Jim Pizzutelli, a former army medic in Vietnam. He'd seen some pretty gruesome things and rushed to Malarchuk's aide. He reached into the sliced wound and pinched off the artery until they could get him off the ice and emergency personnel could suture the wound. 300 stitches later, Malarchuck's life was saved and he was back at practice a few days later.
Medical personnel speculate that he was about a minute from bleeding out and becoming the second on-ice NHL fatality. Afterward, the NHL required all NHL goaltenders to wear neck guards.
The most gruesome video I've ever seen was the 2004 beheading of American Nick Berg at the hands of Al-Quada. I'll never forget that name, or the video. Why I had to go look for it on the internet is beyond me. I think I have a pretty strong stomach, but I remember watching that on the computer at work and immediately going into the bathroom because I felt like puking. After a few minutes of leaning up against the wall I splashed some water on my face and went back to my desk, but I was not the same. Just thinking about it makes me cringe. I'm sitting here with my shoulders all hunched up to protect my neck. If you've never been twisted enough to watch someone get beheaded, let's just say that there's no easy way to saw someone's head off with a hunting knife. All that shouting in that crazy middle-eastern language.....hands bound, boot on the head....that's no way to die.
I went to look up the year that I saw the video and have found a number of websites that suggest, with some merit it seems, that the video may have been a fake. I certainly hope so, although it won't make me feel any less repulsed.
The two baseball greats were seen on a two year old video that popped up this week doing the ceremonial drop of cocks at a cockfight in the Dominican Republic. Pedro's bird (it wasn't actually his) got it's neck broken and died after about a minute and a half. Meanwhile, Pedro and Marichal sat at ringside smiling and having a good time watching animals kill each other for sport.
Cockfighting is legal in the Dominican, and what those people do there is their business. If most of the country gets its rocks off by forcing two birds into a ring until one kills the other that's fine, I'm just going to think they're animals on the same evolutionary bellcurve as the two feathered fowl in the fight. Marichal I sort of understand being a degenerate animal torturer because he made no money back when he played, so he's probably desperate to make a living. But Pedro?
According to baseball-reference.com, Pedro has the 9th highest career earnings among active ball players. His take: an estimated $134,446,234 in salary alone. I'm sure he's had plenty of endorsement deals through the years too. So he's not at a cockfight for the big gambling dollars.
Pedro has apologized, blamed the culture in his homeland and tried to deflect his attendence of such an event by saying he was simply a spectator, invited by his childhood idol Marichal. Kinda like how sorry Michael Vick was and how he tried to blame the dog-fighting culture of the po' folks' in the deep, deep South. It was mularky when Vick tried that excuse and although Martinez isn't financing the cockfight, I'm still throwing my bullshit challenge flag on the first two parts of his defense. I wouldn't be party to anything I personally disagreed with no matter who invited me or how many of my buddies were there. His presence there sends all the message one needs to know: Pedro doesn't care about some dumb chickens; he's fine with it, they're just stupid birds.
I knew a guy who used to bitch to me about every black football player who got in trouble with the law. He'd say you can take the [African-American football player] out of the ghetto, but you can't take the ghetto out of [African-American football player]. His quasi-racist views aside, the guy did have a point that seems applicable to this situation. His implication was that no matter where someone comes from, how much talent they have, fame they garner or money they earn, you're still the person you were before you had all that, no matter how much you change superficially. Pedro can win all the Cy Youngs he wants, all the World Series titles, he can rack up the wins and the strikeouts, we can put him up on a pedestal and shower him with $140 million and he's still going to be the uneducated moron who's brain got fried by too much tropical sun as a youth and who doesn't mind forcing one animal to kill another for his entertainment and amusement.
Watching this video made me a little queasy. It wasn't too bad. I was mostly a little disappointed in Pedro, and fairly angry, but it was a little repulsive. Which got me to thinking about the most repulsive videos I've ever seen. I have a sick compulsion to see every disgusting thing that I don't really need to see. I rushed out and watched that Sadam Hussein hanging video. That wasn't too bad. Maybe it's my generation that is innundated with seeing video of everything. Maybe it's some defect in the wiring in my brain. But I hear about gory videos of things I definitely do not want or need to see and I can't help but watching them. Most disgusting things, I'm fairly insensitive to, but I'm not impervious to everything.
The #2 most nauseating video I've ever seen was Buffalo Sabres goaltender Clint Malarchuk getting his jugular sliced by a skate blade. An opposing forward collided with him and his skate sliced open his throat. Malarchuk rolled over onto his belly and began clutching at his throat as a large pool of crimson began forming on the ice. Nine fans fainted, two suffered heart attacks, numerous ones just up and left the building they were so disgusted, and as Malarchuk lay there convinced he was going to die on the ice, players vomited around him. The video is on YouTube if you really want to see it. I'm not looking it up to link to it, I don't want to see it again. Once was one time too many. I'm clutching my own throat just thinking about it.
Fortunately for Malarchuk, the Sabres team trainer was a guy named Jim Pizzutelli, a former army medic in Vietnam. He'd seen some pretty gruesome things and rushed to Malarchuk's aide. He reached into the sliced wound and pinched off the artery until they could get him off the ice and emergency personnel could suture the wound. 300 stitches later, Malarchuck's life was saved and he was back at practice a few days later.
Medical personnel speculate that he was about a minute from bleeding out and becoming the second on-ice NHL fatality. Afterward, the NHL required all NHL goaltenders to wear neck guards.
The most gruesome video I've ever seen was the 2004 beheading of American Nick Berg at the hands of Al-Quada. I'll never forget that name, or the video. Why I had to go look for it on the internet is beyond me. I think I have a pretty strong stomach, but I remember watching that on the computer at work and immediately going into the bathroom because I felt like puking. After a few minutes of leaning up against the wall I splashed some water on my face and went back to my desk, but I was not the same. Just thinking about it makes me cringe. I'm sitting here with my shoulders all hunched up to protect my neck. If you've never been twisted enough to watch someone get beheaded, let's just say that there's no easy way to saw someone's head off with a hunting knife. All that shouting in that crazy middle-eastern language.....hands bound, boot on the head....that's no way to die.
I went to look up the year that I saw the video and have found a number of websites that suggest, with some merit it seems, that the video may have been a fake. I certainly hope so, although it won't make me feel any less repulsed.
Feels Like Summer
Hey there, long time, no blogging. So what up? Uhhhh:
- I'm sore and tired. Last night I jogged to the office and back. Was probably about a mile and a half, round-trip, and I jogged about 85% of it. It was the first time I've actually run in my running shoes. Felt good. So today it got up to around sixty today, it was a little windy, but still very pleasant. I was planning on a little bike ride when Pat called because he was as bored as I was. I ended up going over to Edwardsville and we hit the bike trails. We made probably a 12 mile trip down to Horseshoe Lake and back. That took a shade over an hour. Afterwards, we decided neither of us had anything better to do so we went to his office in Rendelman Hall to rearrange some furniture. Pat's all concerned about the business atmosphere his office portrays, which I get, but I was too busy playing with a stress ball in the shape of a brain. Afterward we rode around the campus a bit before heading home. All the stationery biking in the world can't hold a candle to the real stuff. I'm sore and very tired. At least I'll sleep good tonight.
- Thursday, February 7th is the anniversary of my favorite cat of all-time, Ripken, passing away. He was way too young and the circumstances around his death remain shady. It's probably been six years or so, but I always reflect back over the event like it's the Kennedy Assassination. There's just too much that doesn't make sense. The neighbors who found him, whose lake he supposedly drowned in, were known to be way overprotective about this horse they had. Wouldn't suprise me a bit if they bumped off my cat because it hunted mice in the field next to their stable and they thought he might spook their precious fucking horse or something. Anyways, rest in peace, Ripper.
- I hate Dave Matthews. I don't know why. They guy looks like a mongoloid, but I'm not sure why I hold that against him. There are a lot of "indie" singer/songwriter/guitar players who can't sing and aren't particularly technically proficient guitarists, but play some really pansy-assed music and have inexplicably large followings. Dave Matthews is #1 on this shit list. Ryan Adams is up there. So is John Mayer. Anyways, I mention Dave Matthews because there's one thing I like that he's done. He was in an episode of House in season 3 where he plays a brain-dead pianist who has the mental capacities of a four year old. It's great. It's how I imagine he is in real life. After everything someone says to his character, he repeats the same thing back. Don't worry, these doctors are going to make you better.....(blank dopey Dave Matthews stare)....They're going to make me better. It's like he got kicked in the head by a mule. And it makes me smile like few other things.
- I still vehemently recommend an Arby's Chicken Club salad, even if I'm not on the Arby's payroll yet. I must've eaten 7 more since in the week and a half since my open letter seeking free salads.
- There was recently a segment on The Howard Stern Show on Sirius satellite radio that featured two Penthouse Pets and their friend that were so hot and so fun that Artie Lange had to pop four of his pills that make him not want to do heroin. He says when he gets too excited he's wants to score dope and have a party, so he's got to take these opiate blockers to suppress that pleasure center in his brain. So any broads that make Artie pop four of these things are worth me checking out. A trip to Stern's website (click on daily rundown, then go to the Tuesday, January 29th show log) confirmed the smoking hotness of two of the broads, and I had to find the video of it. Now I don't endorse nor condone bootlegging copyrighted materials. But I might know some people who aren't so ethical. I cannot recommend this particular segment on Howard TV more.
- I set aside some time to work this weekend, but our database system is down for maintenance, so I guess I'm working on PAGEANT this weekend. I really want to do a full-length feature. My first two films checked in at 36:03 and 32:01, respectively. Problem with this project is, I'm not sure if I have enough footage to make something approaching an hour to an hour and a half.
- I probably forgot something. Oh, well.
Monday, February 4, 2008
That Wasn't an Earthquake You Felt
It was just everyone jumping off of the New England Patriots bandwagon last night.
I don't know how to begin expressing how happy I am that every asswipe neophyte from the Colonies or with some twice-removed, distant cousin from New England now has to shut the fuck up.
I wanted the Giants to win, although the closest I thought they would come would be to cover that 12 point spread. I'm not going to recap the whole game because that's being done ad nauseum throughout cyberspace right now. So here are some pertinent thoughts:
I don't know how to begin expressing how happy I am that every asswipe neophyte from the Colonies or with some twice-removed, distant cousin from New England now has to shut the fuck up.
I wanted the Giants to win, although the closest I thought they would come would be to cover that 12 point spread. I'm not going to recap the whole game because that's being done ad nauseum throughout cyberspace right now. So here are some pertinent thoughts:
- I'm swearing off the Super Bowl next year. I ate so much I was sick to my stomach for about 18 hours after the game ended....stretching well into today. I got home at about 11:30 and couldn't even lay down without feeling too stuffed and sick so I fell asleep sitting up on the couch. All day today I was walking around the office drifting into and out of conciousness and still feeling sick. I'm feeling better, but I still have wicked acid reflux. I just ate five Tums.
- The only negative in all of this is that Mercury Morris, running back for the 1972 Miami Dolphins, now will not shut the hell up for probably another 30-40 years, minimally. Let's get one thing straight: the '72 Dolphins are poseurs. They beat four teams with winning records that year. True, their wire-to-wire winning streak is a helluva accomplishment. But let's not overlook their strength of schedule (lack thereof), their 14 game schedule, or the fact that back then, the Super Bowl wasn't the media circus it is nowadays. Hell, even the day-to-day media wasn't nearly as extensive as it is now, meaning less pressure. Mercury: cram your perfect season up your ass. To me, the Patriots going 18-0 into the Super Bowl is just as impressive as your 17 wins, no losses and Lombardi Trophy.
- All year long, the Patriots' buzz phrases were "just finish the play" and "do your job." Bill Belichick can be seen on NFL Films stalking the sidelines spouting that mantra. So what happened? One second left on the clock, a defense with guys like Rodney Harrison or Junior Seau, whom Belichick coaxed out of retirement or recycled after other teams were ready to show them the door because they were "blueprint" Patriots, and Belichick walks off on them. No suprise whatsoever to me. Belichick is a known cheater with no respect for the game, so of course he'd be a sore loser. Of course he'd refuse to stand with his guys while they had to stand humiliated on the field while they cleared the people off and did the ceremonial kneel down. What happened to all that "there are no ego's on this team" crap? What happened to everyone being in it together, win or lose? Things went sour and Belicheck flew the coop.
- I liked Tom Petty. The man has a good catalogue of songs, and his performance was solid, whether or not parts were lipsynced.
- The NY media machine are already rewriting the history books, mythologizing this Giants win as the greatest of all time. Let's be clear: for three quarters, it was pretty much a clunker. Two defenses jostling back and forth in a field position battle. Luckily, the game errupted into one of the most memorable quarters ever, one that no doubt ranks right up there with any finish to a Super Bowl. But don't show me a '72 Gremlin and tell me it's one of them snazzy new '09 Audi R8's. This game was really sour for a long time.
- One of these years, the millions of lambs have to wake up to the hype surrounding the bullshit commercials, right? I remember laughing once - when Will Ferrell was wearing a basketball jersey that was way too small and rattling off silly endorsements for Bud Light. Bud Light....Suck One! That was the only time I laughed. I laughed plenty of times at the wise-acre reactions of the two guys I was watching the game with. But for the umteenth year, there were a lot of commercials that seemed like some sort of inside joke, that weren't funny, that just plain sucked. But because they're panned mainly by people watching them as a part of a bigger group, no one wants to seem "out of it" by saying they didn't get it or didn't like it. Even some of the Bud Light ones were stupid, and Anheuser-Busch usually delivers a few of the better commercials every year. Fire breathing no longer included in Bud Light? That's stupid. It's unrealistic. I don't get it, and I'm proud to admit that.
- I'm really getting tired of Bill Simmons. His fusing of pop culture and sports was funny for quite awhile, but he, along with the quickly shrinking Patriots bandwagon are way out of line claiming they now understand the feeling of Rams fans in 2002, when, as heavy favorites, we were knocked off by the totally disrespected Pats. Yes, the money line and points spreads were similar. But we were robbed by the officials. The Rams wideouts in that game were molested by the Patriots, but we couldn't buy a call. The Patriots lost this game with nary a questionable call all night long.
- Speaking of that 2002 Rams-Pats Super Bowl, all the news here in St. Louis has been the allegations that someone from the Pats taped the Rams' final walkthrough the day before the Super Bowl, when the Rams walked through their scripted plays the used to open the game and a whole bunch of short yardage and red zone looks they hadn't shown all year long. The Patriots denied that the guy did this at their instruction, nor do they claim to have seen or used any tape that might have existed. Then Rams coach Mike Martz has said he's known for some time that they were taped, but has kept quiet because of a lack of evidence, and will withhold further comment until a later point. Kurt Warner wants an investigation. Marshall Faulk has been mum, probably because the NFL is now signing his paychecks.
- On the subject of spying, a former New England video assistant, Matt Walsh, fired after about six years on the job, has been in the news recently saying he has information that is extremely damaging to the Patriots and to the NFL. But he's never been talked to by the league, and is aloof on whether he may or may not have copies of tapes from as far back as 2000. He's mum on that because the Pats may view it as stolen property and he signed a confidentiality agreement which he would be violating unless the league interrogates him.
- So Gregg Easterbrook took it to task to play conspiracy theorist about all this spying stuff. He's normally a gigantic tool, but he makes some interesting points. The league's handling of all that stuff back in week 2 was a little crazy. First they came out with strong language to pressure the Pats into turning over their stuff. Then they slapped them with the stiffest penalty to date. Then, after a few months of the controversy dying down, league reps, in the spotlight and unable to run from the questions for the first time since it happened, dismissed the severity of the what the Patriots turned over. Suddenly, it was no big deal. And conspicuously, all evidence of cheating dated back to only 2006, the year after the Pats' last Super Bowl win. Conveniently, no one but the NFL Commish can confirm this because the league quickly destroyed all evidence. Apparently, the league with the 6 billion dollar revenues, can afford a safe or a safety deposit box - they were afraid something might leak out. Hmmm.....
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