Are you threatening ME, Master Jedi?
By far, the most exciting thing happening in March for me is the NCAA tournament, and madness is approaching fever pitch already. But only slightly less known is this: Never mess with me when a new Sith trailer is on the line! Ha ha ha! Ha ha ha! Ha ha ha! [slumps over]

Okay, I've recovered, but not from the trailer which debuted following one of the worst shows I've ever been forced to sit through, the O.C. I can assure you that my eyes were tired from eye-rolling. The show is nothing more that a latter-day Melrose Place, and a crappy one at that. Excuse my vitriol, O.C. fans (dare you show your faces??), but when you are chomping at the bit for new Star Wars scenes, even vacuous teenage hot-bodies are loathesome.

However, as the Emperor might say, my patience paid off. The trailer was riveting from start to finish, with trademark half-second glimpses into all the new worlds, characters and scenes. Dominating the 2-plus minutes was Chancellor Palpatine and his alter ego, Darth Sidious. If the trailer is any indication, his role has been upgraded from supporting character to heavy-handed manipulator and scene-chewer. You get quite a few glimpses of him in action (flinging Senatorial pods at Yoda!), but the most chilling to me were his several snippets of quiet dialog with Anakin.

Of course, hands-down the scene that sticks out in mind and gave me the chills was the arrest scene. Mace Windu and several Jedi (four of them, sabers drawn) pronounce to the Emperor that they are placing him under arrest. The Emperor's reply (the title of this blog) is cool and edgy, almost a dare. The next thing you see is a shot of the Chancellor's lightsaber snapping into his hand, and then a shot of him leaping with feral menace to the Jedi, who justifiably are taken aback. My immediate, eruditic reaction to that part was "Holy shit!!!" Just what the Jedi were thinking, no doubt.

Honorable mention goes to the shot of an angry Anakin leading a group of stormtroopers into the Jedi temple. Overall, after seeing this trailer, there's no WAY this film isn't going to be at least PG-13. It looks dark, sinister, definitely scary, even... something we fans have been hoping and dreaming about. This isn't your father's trilogy, no. This is matured Star Wars. This is better.

Science-non-fiction
This picture of a parasitic second head that was removed from a 10-month old girl is the single most chill-inducing photo I've seen this year. Aside from Jaquandor, that is. Naturally.

The Beard on Bebo.

Save Toby
A fan (I have fans?) of this blog alerted me to the pressing predicament of a bunny rabbit named Toby. It appears that Toby's owner is going to cook and eat Toby in a few months unless donations come in. The site is replete with cute pictures of poor Toby and a receipe page. Personally, it just makes me laugh at the plight of the helpless, but I might buy a t-shirt just because it's a Friday and I've got nothing else to contribute to society.

Constantine
There hasn't been much of anything to come out in a while, which makes my anticipation of Constantine more of hope than desire. While the storyline is admittedly intriguing to my preferences (about an anti-hero type who sees demons and fights, etc.), I've had doubts about whether the filmmakers could pull off a faithful adaptation from the graphic novels.

As with all things, the answer will be subjective. Walter Chaw skewers the film most deliciously, but delivers a sad portent of things to come:

Chewed-up and swallowed, the film seems to constantly be a minute behind the cool stuff--lowering hopes, again, that Neil Gaiman's important "Sandman" run, a title that ran concurrent with the Garth Ennis/Jamie Delano "Hellblazer" arc, will ever find its way to the screen in an incarnation that doesn't suck balls.

Contrasting night-and-day is reviewer Victoria Alexander, whose sees the film as a validation of her beliefs:

The complicated hagiography of CONSTANTINE is based on the DC/Vertigo comic book Hellblazer and is written by Kevin Brodbin, Mark Bomback and Frank Capello. I have an entire section of my library devoted to Satan and demon possession. (I’ll recommend merely three from my vast “DP” collection: “Demon Possession” by John L. Nevius, “Possession and Exorcism, Among Primitive Races, in Antiquity, The Middle Ages, and Modern Times” by Traugott K. Oesterreich, and “Hostage to the Devil, The Possession and Exorcism of Five Lining Americans” by Malachi Martin.)

She goes on for another two paragraphs before, hello, stopping her diatribe to review the movie. Victoria must have been salivating in buckets for this movie to come out.

In any event, being a devotee of all things dark and religious (not mutally exclusive), I'll spend my nine bucks this weekend.

Kneel before Matt
Out of boredom, I've been cultivating the facial hair over the last few days. Having taking the time to trim and shape, it's passable at work (both my bosses have beards, so at worst they will think I am sucking up, which we all know is a impossibility).

Working in the IT section, the most commmon comment is 'convict', although my own opinion is different. Because of my short hair (I clip it to 1/8"), my beard blends with the hair on my head. It reminded me of the main villain from Superman II, which thus led me to an hilarious site, General Zod.net. There are quite a few interesting bits of worship for the almighty Zod, but my favorite is this little Zod blaster, where you can have Zod destroy your favorite pop-culture icons. For instance, unleash his wrath on Jar Jar. I find the genre switching hilarious. [Works best with audio.]

Episode III trailer spoof
Via The Force.net, check out the hilarious mock trailer for Episode III: A Lost Hope. I had tears in my eyes when I was done.

Of the many scenes, the end quickly edited clips are my favorites, as we get to see Vader high-five the Emperor and Anakin do a 'Wonder Woman' transformation into Vader. I'm just chuckling thinking about it. Oh and the R2-D2 'preggers' tester is just so bad it's good.

Losing with the grace of a drunken ox
The first movie-line parallel that sprung to mind was from Indiana Jones and the Last Crusade, whose knight guarding the grail said the following after the main villain disintegrated into dust after sipping from a false chalise: "He chose... poorly." An hilarious understatement, that, and I'm tempted exact my own fool's vengeance on the Buffalo News' staff for picking some seriously lackluster 'winning' entries for their short story contest. That's just one man's opinion, but if you adjust for relevance (by a factor of 1.03), then clearly you will see the light.

I submitted my entry the day before the deadline. I figured it would be a long-shot to get published, especially in a non-hometown newspaper, so I posted it prior to the exit polls (keep an eye out for Jaquandor's 'losing' entry as well). Turns out there is probably something to that, as every honorable mention is from the area. Anyway, after reading the selected winning entries, I'm just a little put off by the staff.

By their own admission, they were swamped by entries. Still, they managed to select the 'heartwarming' story "Sweet Gloria", who's rather tiresome 'tale' begins as such:

He would never forget Lee's face as he approached the poustinia. It was a steep climb up the mountain and, whatever he carried, Lee held it very carefully. The Chinese monk was always serious, but now there was a gravity about his expression that Chris had not seen before.

I don't know if there exists such a cardinal rule as 'never putting a word that Merriam-Webster doesn't recognize in the first sentence', but there should be. My first reaction to her opening paragraph was to apologize to the editors of the Buffalo News -- it seems that someone can write a worse and more confusing opening. Please read the rest -- I am shocked that it was under 1500 words as the author seemed to perform the miracle of turning a short shory into a long one.

After trudging through the prose biography that was supposed to be a story, I happened upon the author's writing experience (at the bottom of the article):

Writing experience:Published articles and essays in Catholic magazines and newsletters, often about the spirituality of work. Is currently working on a novel set in the 19th century. “Sweet Gloria” is her first short story.

Well there you have it. Her story is peppered with little religious bookmarks and suggestions, which would naturally serve to piss me off.

As for the number one entry, "Sphere", it's actually not too bad for a first-time writer. It's actually interesting, so I'll just save my indignance for the other 'winner'. Now I've got to go back to work.

Short Story Submission

A short while ago, Jaquandor pointed to a short story contest in the Buffalo News, whose rules go something like this (or, exactly like this):

In the end, Chris decided, it had all been about the snow.

If Chris had not trusted the weatherman -- or had managed to pack up and leave before Lee showed up with that package -- everything would be different now.

But there was the snow. ...

Want to try your hand at writing a short story? This month, The Buffalo News is sponsoring a Short Story Writing Contest, and all you have to do is start with those sentences above and then create the rest of the story.

Entries, which are due Jan. 20, can be fit into any category desired -- mystery/suspense, science fiction, historical fiction, romance, chick lit or even nonfiction.

All entries should be a maximum of 1,500 words in length, must be original work and must begin with the sentences provided.

The contest is open to writers of all ages, but only one entry per person is allowed.

You also must title the story -- the more provocative title the better.
The top two best stories, which will be chosen by a panel of Buffalo News editors, will be published in the Life & Arts section on Feb. 1.


Stories will be judged on plot, use and development of characters, quality of writing and creativity.

The grand prize winner gets a year's worth of Buffalo News Book Club .selections and a $20 Barnes and Noble gift card. Runner-up gets six months of Book Club selections and $10 gift card to Barnes & Noble.

Not a helluva exciting prize, but I hadn't written anything in a while, so I decided to give it a whirl. Though I hated the opening sentences, I figured I'm reasonably talented to overlook the Buffalo News' craptacular beginning and rattle something off. Well, rattle I did, and all told it took about an hour and a half to punch this baby out. For those of you who care, it's about an hour to put it all down and a half-hour to whittle it down to under 1500 words. No, there will be no DVD-release of the 'writer's cut'.

I don't anticipate getting any prize for this work. Really, how good can something be when I spent a grand total (including plotting) of about 2 hours creating it?
So, by popular request, here is, in its entirety, an original work by yours truly. Happy Friday. I encourage comments, but if you are writing to comment on grammar and such, you know where to stick it.

"Expectations and Puppet Wisdom"

In the end, Chris decided, it had all been about the snow.

If Chris had not trusted the weatherman - or had managed to pack up and leave before Lee showed up with that package - everything would be different now.

But there was the snow. He had always been a person who enjoyed the change of the seasons, a person who thought that Californians probably never really appreciated warm weather as much as someone who spent six months of the year in heavy coats and driving on salty roads.

Unfortunately, the roads were not salted or even plowed, and they wouldn’t be for quite some time. The storm had caught the city unawares, a rarity as unusual as never hearing the phrase ‘lake-effect snow’ on the news in February. As such, the over thousand strong of dedicated climate control specialists (guys who drive the salt and plow trucks) had gotten a late start on the road-clearing task, a start which ensured that Chris, with his beloved Corvette, wouldn’t get the hell out of Dodge until much later than planned.

He glanced out through his bay windows at his rear-wheel drive baby, and just knew that his neighbors were silently shaking their heads yet again for owning such a ridiculously poor snow vehicle. He knew this because one of those neighbors, his nemesis, Lee, was doing just that in his doorway.

“Whew, where the hell did this storm come from?” the visitor asked, stomping his shoes on the worn welcome mat. Chris knew he didn’t have to answer, as Lee always preferred his own replies to that of anyone else in the room. “I swear on the local news last night they said nothing about this,” Lee continued. “Nothing. Just goes to show you that weather prediction still isn’t a science. How do they expect to predict global warming if they can’t tell me whether or not it’s gonna snow in the morning?”

Lee couldn’t resist weaving in a political trap into his comments. Chris just shrugged his shoulders as if he too were baffled and exhaled.

Lee seemed to notice and said, “Well, there’s nothing we can do now but wait it out. Damn side streets never get the first treatment. We’ll be a few hours before this stuff is cleaned off. And then we can break out the shovels and did out the driveway after the plows barricade us in.”

“Yeah.”

“So anyway, I’ve got this package from Karen for you,” Lee said, almost apologetically. “She said that she didn’t want it anymore, that it was all your stuff…”

“What’s in it?” Chris asked, already suspecting the contents, and knowing Lee’s insatiable (read: nosy) curiosity wouldn’t have allowed him to deliver ‘a package’ without first going through it.

A package. Chris snorted, still staring out at the Corvette. Lee’s overblown imagination had probably figured it was something private, personal, or hopefully sordid. Maybe some old letters between former lovers or pictures ripped up or maybe even a dead fish wrapped in Chris’ favorite t-shirt. Yes, her love for me now sleeps with the fishes.

Lee didn’t answer right away. Given his penchant for speaking without thinking, it was a sure sign that he had indeed looked at the contents. “Well, Chris, you know, I don’t know. She just said that you were expecting it and I should give it to you today.”

“When did you see her?”

“Last night. She stopped by for two seconds. Left the package and vamoosed. So do you want it?” he asked, with a hint of eagerness, as a child might then follow up with a request to keep it.

“Yeah,” Chris said. Karen had left a message on his machine saying that she was going to drop off something for him. She also rightly guessed that he was screening his calls.

Lee’s shoulder’s seem to sag just an inch. He looked at “the package” and held it out to Chris.

“Can you just leave it on the table?”

“Sure,” Lee said, and turned to find an appropriate place on the coffee table. “You know, what was the issue with you two? From my perspective, she wasn’t all that bad, right?” he said, finding his rambling tongue again. “I mean, she was nice – is nice I mean – we all liked her. I guess just not your type, Chris.”

Or maybe what you imagine your type to be, which would be anyone who can stand talking to you for more than ten minutes without searching for a trap door, Chris mused.

“I mean, you’ve got this whole thing going with the flying and the trips out of town and the lifestyle. You know. Karen needed a little more domestication. She just needed someone a little more stable. Domestic.”

Once Lee found a word he felt captured what he wanted to say, he wouldn’t let it go, as if finding the perfect phrase that should be repeated for all the world to hear his wisdom.

“Yeah, I guess,” Chris replied, still gazing blankly out at the white flakes keeping him from leaving. “Maybe someone more like you.”

“Me? No, no way. Not my type,” Lee said. “I mean, I don’t really know her. She was okay, well, she was real nice. I mean good figure and cute, sure. But yeah, you know, I don’t think so.”

“I wasn’t really suggesting that you and her should get together, Lee.”

“Right,” he said, rubbing his hands together that signaled his intent to leave. “Well, I better get going.”

“To where?” Chris asked. “There’s a foot of snow on the ground.”

“Uh. You know. Go down to the store and get some smokes or something.”

“Or something.”

“Yeah,” Lee said, stomping his feet on the welcome mat to shake off of any remaining snow he’d missed dumping on his way in. “Okay, see ya later,” he said, opening and closing the door behind him in a smooth motion.

Lee. Karen no doubt gave the package – the “package”, he mused – to Lee knowing he’d dive through it first. Karen knew Chris was irritated by his harmless but steadfastly busybody neighbor, mostly because Chris held things close to his chest. He was a private man. Well, she was making sure he wouldn’t keep this to himself. She liked symbolic gifts, and this was meant to remind him that he blew it by keeping himself closed off.

For the first time he turned away from the window and looked at the shoebox. “The package”, he thought, and wondered if the movie of the same name with Gene Hackman was any good. He tried to think of who else was in that film, but couldn’t place the actress’ name. A little disappointed in his trivia failure, he reluctantly plopped down on the couch before “the package”.

Karen and Chris’ last conversation wasn’t pleasant. She wanted more from him, and he was too busy with work. He wanted to, or at least he thought he did and hoped he’d gotten that across, but wanting wasn’t the same as doing. Damn, she even turned Yoda on him when he said he’d try, and she came back with ‘Do or do not. There is no try.’ That was painful to have his favorite movie betray him.

How could he fight that? In all his geekly wisdom, he couldn’t argue with the puppet – back in the day when it was a puppet, he wistfully thought. A small, green, furry Styrofoam Buddha. He couldn’t admit that he was making the same mistakes, so he just said he was sorry, and she matter-of-factly said she’d be returning his things.

Not that he’d kept all that much at her place to get back. Except for his favorite t-shirt. Now, looking at “the package”, he braced himself to see what manner of destruction had befallen the old blue shirt. I deserve this, Chris told himself, loosening the top of the shoebox. I deserve this.

Inside, neatly folded, was the shirt. He picked it up and inspected it. Smelled it. It didn’t appear to be damaged in any way. She had returned it in pristine condition, maybe even ‘Downy’ fresh. Chris felt a little let down. Wasn’t he worth some measure of revenge?

Aha, he thought. There was a card inside. He withdrew the handwritten note from the standard white envelope (“To Chris”). When he unfolded it, two airline tickets were tucked in the center. He was surprised to see they were from Buffalo to Jamaica.

He read: “Chris – I’m sorry, too. I won’t just try if you don’t. Let’s do. Starting with getting the hell out of this icebox for the weekend. I’ll pick you up in my Blazer at 4. I know you won’t be going anywhere in the ‘Vette ;). Love, Karen. PS. Lee, if you don’t deliver this I will hunt you down and destroy you. For pleasure.”

Chris sat back and chuckled to himself. She was his type.

Episode III Roll-UP

It is a very tempting time for Star Wars fans.
An entertainment and movie reporting website,
Cinescape, has scored a victory of titillation.

They linked to the Star Wars official site, where
mysterious forces have posted an opening
rollup library from all the films, including
REVENGE OF THE SITH.

Whether fans will be tempted to view the opening
for the next film in advance, is unclear. Only a
single Jedi, operating under his own ethical code,
so far has dared...

Ignore my opinions at your own peril
Oh, the joys and travails of DirecTv. Yes, our household (i.e., the roommates and myself) succumbed to the temptation of multiple movie channels and swapped out our overpriced Comcast cable for the satellite service. The primary motivation wasn't the extra channels; it was that we can get more channels why paying less that for basic cable service. So, for a few extra dollars of installation and minor hassle, we now have access to a lot more channels (I haven't done the count yet), including about 15 movie channels.

Frankly, I think that if you can't find something to watch on your 60 basic cable stations, that is a sign to do something else. I come from a generation that remembers TV before MTV, before ESPN, before remotes. Now I have access to more programs than ever, and it sucks you in. There's always SOMETHING on. While this has led to a couple nights (only a couple) of aimless remote fondling, it has produced at least one good result.

The other night, while flicking, I happened opon Shattered Glass, the story of New Republic writer Stephen Glass' rise and fall (it was found out that he manufactured most of his stories). Though critically lauded, I had little interest in renting the 2003 film, so it was thanks to a slow thumb on the channel changer that got me sucked into the movie. The first time, I only watched the last 20 minutes, but that was enough to impress the hell out of me.

It's not an understatement to say the Hayden Christianson (he also plays this guy 'Anakin') owns the role of Stephen Glass. He plays the consummate liar with a slippery empathy and believable deniability -- even when caught in the most obvious of lies, Hayden switches from outrageous excuses to plaintive self-judgement ("I didn't do anything wrong!") that has you wondering if Stephen really believes any of his own bullshit. However, despite Christianson's tour-de-force, I was equally blown away by Peter Sarsgaard's role as his editor who slowly comes to realize that Glass has been feeding them manufactured tales all along. I really can't put my finger on it, but like his role in the overrated Garden State (don't get me started), he has a cinematic presence that is at once understated and riveting. For your four bucks worth, you aren't going to find many other movies with two more exciting performances (and keep in mind they are playing journalists -- not exactly action figure status).

So, what did we learn today? DirecTv bad. Hayden and Peter good. But, if I hadn't gotten DirecTv, it's very likely I wouldn't have ever seen the film. The only rational conclusion is that one of our many meddling gods have been interfering with my life yet again.

More Attack of the Clones required reading
I know I've given enough fodder recently, but I'd be remiss if I didn't cite Jaquandor for pointing me towards this excellent treatise on that movie. The most illuminating insight is the following exposition (including footnotes) regarding aggression, which addresses one of the most commonly hated changes of the new special edition of A New Hope:

The most obvious way Lucas condemns violence continues to be by showing on the narrative level that aggression is the surest road to defeat. Obi Wan's assault on Jango Fett leaves him hanging below the city in a clear parallel to Luke's defeat in Empire. Attacking Count Dooku at the climax, Obi Wan and Anakin also assure themselves of a terrible loss at his hands. The tide of this battle does not turn until the arrival of Yoda, whose appearance significantly marks Dooku's shift from a defensive to an offensive strategy and in turn triggers his own loss. The pursuit of would-be assassin Zam Wessel provides a more subtle case in point: it succeeds only when the hunters allow themselves to become the hunted. It is a testament to Lucas' creativity that this pattern plays out in even the smallest of subplots without (five films and ten hours into the saga) becoming stale or self-evident.

This is presumably the explanation for the controversial "Greedo edit" in the special edition of the first film. By altering the confrontation between Greedo and Han Solo in A New Hope to show Greedo firing first, Lucas eliminated the inconsistency between this particular conflict and the overarching theme of the film as a whole.

I feel somewhat satisfied and wholly placated by the change now, but still I long for Han Solo to be a badass iconoclast who is at the same time above the whole saga and a clueless yet, in his own way, sage witness to the entire struggle. Alas.