I initially came here to write about the passing of Tom Cheek (see item above) but on the way to doing a good thing, I ended up cursing my trackball. I actually love trackballs. Every computer I own has a trackball, rather than a mouse. Trackballs take up less space than mice and tend to not pick up as much crud and require less frequent cleaning. But there's a HUGE difference between less cleaning and no cleaning.
The trackball was SOOOO flighty that I broke down and unscrewed the bottom screw of the Logitech Trackman and popped out the big red ball. (I have Trackman marbles and even a Microsoft trackball in the house, but I vastly prefer the big ball type from Logitech.) I looked inside and wasn't completely surprised to find each of the pins that hold the ball in place were covered with a mat of lint. The window for reading the dots on the trackball was relatively clean, but the rotating pins were just buried. In all, I pulled enough lint out to form a good sized pea. THAT is gross!
I reassembled the trackball and faith and begora, the mouse started jumping to my commands like it always should.
Once more, trackballs require less frequent, BUT SOME, cleaning.
Monday, October 10, 2005
Tuesday, September 20, 2005
TV: Late to the Reunion
I want to like Reunion, an early debut from FOX, but I can't. I defy anybody to really like any of the characters at the core of this "friends forever" series that will showcase a year in the life, each week.
Three boys and three girls. In some social circles, that would be three couples. In others, it would be two couples (see Friends) and two singles. In this show, everybody likes somebody else and there's only one official couple, which teams up a cheater and a creep.
That's the problem. The characters are either floor mats or uber-twits. Chyler Leigh, who demonstrated some personality in the otherwise drab That 80's Show and in a guest spot of the doomed North Shore last year, is the primary floor mat. She likes the male floor mat, but arrives just as he enjoys momentary bliss with HIS ideal, the slut played by Amanda Righetti. I'm on record as admiring Righetti, but putting her in Madonna fashion circa 1986 is cruel. The third lady is Alexa Davalos, who dates the alpha creep and beds his best friend.
The boys are rich, poor and artistic. I can't remember any of their names, not even the Tom Cruise wannabe, straight out of Risky Business. I'll probably watch one more show, to see if the older, bitchy Chyler Leigh's right. Will 1987 be a helluva year, starting off with a bang? If not, there'll be no more Reunion for me.
Three boys and three girls. In some social circles, that would be three couples. In others, it would be two couples (see Friends) and two singles. In this show, everybody likes somebody else and there's only one official couple, which teams up a cheater and a creep.
That's the problem. The characters are either floor mats or uber-twits. Chyler Leigh, who demonstrated some personality in the otherwise drab That 80's Show and in a guest spot of the doomed North Shore last year, is the primary floor mat. She likes the male floor mat, but arrives just as he enjoys momentary bliss with HIS ideal, the slut played by Amanda Righetti. I'm on record as admiring Righetti, but putting her in Madonna fashion circa 1986 is cruel. The third lady is Alexa Davalos, who dates the alpha creep and beds his best friend.
The boys are rich, poor and artistic. I can't remember any of their names, not even the Tom Cruise wannabe, straight out of Risky Business. I'll probably watch one more show, to see if the older, bitchy Chyler Leigh's right. Will 1987 be a helluva year, starting off with a bang? If not, there'll be no more Reunion for me.
Monday, September 19, 2005
TV: The First Returns are in
Fox and the WB kicked off their new seasons early, some reviews have appeared here before. New episodes of returning shows merit a mention or two now.
The O.C. took two episodes to introduce new villains for the plucky rich kids to contend with. Out with Trey and in with a new Dean of Discipline, a hissy missy for Summer and Marisa to contend with, a troubled stranger (played by the inexplicably popular Jeri Ryan) to bedevil Kristin and the turning of Jimmy to the dark side. Or should I say, a return of Jimmy to the dark side. Could he be more devious than his once and future missus? Stay tuned.
Luke and Lorelei are still headed for the Gilmore Girls fictional altar. It's been one whole episode and no break-up. It's coming, just like the rapprochement between Laura and Rory, who didn't have one, not one, of the patented mother-daughter conversations that have driven this show for a half-decade. Rory's attempts to live the bad girls' life should fuel another good season of this well-written show.
I laugh at What I Like About You. I think Jenny Garth's sexy and Amanda Bynes is adorable. I wish a certain teenager I'm related to would try to emulate Bynes more. The supporting cast is strong. There's marriage and love (not necessarily between the two same people) in the air, but the laughs do outnumber the groans. A guilty pleasure.
Living with Fran would be a guiltier pleasure if I enjoyed the show. Fran Drescher seems to have aged from the first season this spring. The kids remain unlikeable and the only good part of the show is Ryan McPartlin. He seems to be making an effort to fit into the madcap band that is Fran's family. I'll give it another couple of episodes, but the kids gotta get over their brat days.
The O.C. took two episodes to introduce new villains for the plucky rich kids to contend with. Out with Trey and in with a new Dean of Discipline, a hissy missy for Summer and Marisa to contend with, a troubled stranger (played by the inexplicably popular Jeri Ryan) to bedevil Kristin and the turning of Jimmy to the dark side. Or should I say, a return of Jimmy to the dark side. Could he be more devious than his once and future missus? Stay tuned.
Luke and Lorelei are still headed for the Gilmore Girls fictional altar. It's been one whole episode and no break-up. It's coming, just like the rapprochement between Laura and Rory, who didn't have one, not one, of the patented mother-daughter conversations that have driven this show for a half-decade. Rory's attempts to live the bad girls' life should fuel another good season of this well-written show.
I laugh at What I Like About You. I think Jenny Garth's sexy and Amanda Bynes is adorable. I wish a certain teenager I'm related to would try to emulate Bynes more. The supporting cast is strong. There's marriage and love (not necessarily between the two same people) in the air, but the laughs do outnumber the groans. A guilty pleasure.
Living with Fran would be a guiltier pleasure if I enjoyed the show. Fran Drescher seems to have aged from the first season this spring. The kids remain unlikeable and the only good part of the show is Ryan McPartlin. He seems to be making an effort to fit into the madcap band that is Fran's family. I'll give it another couple of episodes, but the kids gotta get over their brat days.
TV: Twins are one too many
The television season has been a real hit or miss proposition. The hits are pretty good, the misses are REALLY bad. Unredeemably bad. Twins bad.
Sara Gilbert gives it a good try in the character part she's become mired in, the plain-jane smart-alec. One wonders if they gussied Gilbert up and put her into a good show, whether she could be the star I think she could be. But, we will never know.
This show has cancellation written all over it. Mark Linn-Baker was funny a billion years ago in Perfect Strangers. He's not funny anymore. Melanie Griffith was funny a trillion years ago, the pre-frozen face days of Something Wild and Working Girl. She's so plastic in this part, a mannequin could have been used and no one would be the wiser. She's VERY unfunny.
Which brings me to Gilbert's titular twin, Farrah, as played by Molly Stanton. She's blonde and possess the killer bod a lingerie model is supposed to have. But she's Melanie Griffith-dumb and I don't find her all that attractive.
Imagine, a show set in a lingerie and underwear factory, and I can't recommend it. How sad is that?!?!
Sara Gilbert gives it a good try in the character part she's become mired in, the plain-jane smart-alec. One wonders if they gussied Gilbert up and put her into a good show, whether she could be the star I think she could be. But, we will never know.
This show has cancellation written all over it. Mark Linn-Baker was funny a billion years ago in Perfect Strangers. He's not funny anymore. Melanie Griffith was funny a trillion years ago, the pre-frozen face days of Something Wild and Working Girl. She's so plastic in this part, a mannequin could have been used and no one would be the wiser. She's VERY unfunny.
Which brings me to Gilbert's titular twin, Farrah, as played by Molly Stanton. She's blonde and possess the killer bod a lingerie model is supposed to have. But she's Melanie Griffith-dumb and I don't find her all that attractive.
Imagine, a show set in a lingerie and underwear factory, and I can't recommend it. How sad is that?!?!
TV: Bones has the bones
David Boreanaz looks uncomfortable in a suit. THAT was my first reaction in watching the Bones premiere episode this weekend (taped from earlier in the week). He smiles more in this show, but I kept waiting for him to break out the scowl and duster, that he perpetually wore in Angel. He kept the dry delivery for jokes, though.
Bones is a TV adaptation of the books written by Kathy Reichs, a more literate and readable Patricia Cornwell (who started with two good books and a series of bad ones since). Boreanaz's FBI agent, Seeley Booth, hooks up with anthropologist/super-heroine Temperance Brennan to solve a crime that was a tad less devious than one might have hoped for in a first episode.
Brennan, played by one of the quirky-cute Deschanel sisters, Emily, comes across as a modern-day Emma Peel. She's constantly flipping people and doing mostly whatever she wants. Cuz she's cute and smarter than most of the other characters, she gets away with it. Boreanaz and Deschanel have a good chemistry, but it's going to be a workplace chemistry.
Speaking of workplace, the digs Brennan and her crew of helpers get to work out of, are spectacular. Unbelievable, but spectacular. And the Washington scenery is no less imposing. This show LOOKS good.
And one last thought, welcome back John Jackson. He plays the vaguely unlikeable boss for Boreanaz, although it's not much different than the bureaucrat he played in JAG.
The show is off to a decent start. It's certainly worth continued watching.
Bones is a TV adaptation of the books written by Kathy Reichs, a more literate and readable Patricia Cornwell (who started with two good books and a series of bad ones since). Boreanaz's FBI agent, Seeley Booth, hooks up with anthropologist/super-heroine Temperance Brennan to solve a crime that was a tad less devious than one might have hoped for in a first episode.
Brennan, played by one of the quirky-cute Deschanel sisters, Emily, comes across as a modern-day Emma Peel. She's constantly flipping people and doing mostly whatever she wants. Cuz she's cute and smarter than most of the other characters, she gets away with it. Boreanaz and Deschanel have a good chemistry, but it's going to be a workplace chemistry.
Speaking of workplace, the digs Brennan and her crew of helpers get to work out of, are spectacular. Unbelievable, but spectacular. And the Washington scenery is no less imposing. This show LOOKS good.
And one last thought, welcome back John Jackson. He plays the vaguely unlikeable boss for Boreanaz, although it's not much different than the bureaucrat he played in JAG.
The show is off to a decent start. It's certainly worth continued watching.
TV: The Batman Has a Girl
I'm too old to watch cartoons. But animation? Sure!
Coming off the disaster that was Loonatics Unleashed, I had to admit loading up The Batman was done with just a bit of trepidation. I was coming to the party a bit late, having still not watched the first two seasons of this well-regarded show. And, now, I'm going to have to dig up the saved episodes for watching.
The season three kick off is a multi-parter called Batgirl Begins, a takeoff on the movie of this summer. And it's a dandy barn-burner of a show. It recasts the origins of Batgirl and Poison Ivy. At least as much as they can be modernized. The first episode has an opening credits cliffhanger followed by a "How this predicament came to be" section that was well-done. Nobody seemed perfect, which is rare for a super-hero cartoon (or comic book). There was a genuine sense of drama throughout.
In any cartoon, the first question is: How is the animation? Pretty good. This is a slightly raggedly drawn cartoon, when compared to earlier Batman shows, like Batman Beyond. But that fits with MY concept of Gotham. Batman, Alfred and the Commissioner all are appropriately drawn. I'm not crazy about the new Batgirl suit, which is Catwoman's suit with a cape, but I can get past that. Barbara Gordon and Pam Isely look like the teenaged friends they are in this show (I did say there was a recasting of the origins, didn't I?).
THIS is the kind of cartoon that adults and kids can watch.
Coming off the disaster that was Loonatics Unleashed, I had to admit loading up The Batman was done with just a bit of trepidation. I was coming to the party a bit late, having still not watched the first two seasons of this well-regarded show. And, now, I'm going to have to dig up the saved episodes for watching.
The season three kick off is a multi-parter called Batgirl Begins, a takeoff on the movie of this summer. And it's a dandy barn-burner of a show. It recasts the origins of Batgirl and Poison Ivy. At least as much as they can be modernized. The first episode has an opening credits cliffhanger followed by a "How this predicament came to be" section that was well-done. Nobody seemed perfect, which is rare for a super-hero cartoon (or comic book). There was a genuine sense of drama throughout.
In any cartoon, the first question is: How is the animation? Pretty good. This is a slightly raggedly drawn cartoon, when compared to earlier Batman shows, like Batman Beyond. But that fits with MY concept of Gotham. Batman, Alfred and the Commissioner all are appropriately drawn. I'm not crazy about the new Batgirl suit, which is Catwoman's suit with a cape, but I can get past that. Barbara Gordon and Pam Isely look like the teenaged friends they are in this show (I did say there was a recasting of the origins, didn't I?).
THIS is the kind of cartoon that adults and kids can watch.
TV: Loonatics Unleashed Should Have a Leash
Within the animation fans' community, the announcement that a futuristic super-hero team version of the beloved cartoon characters Bugs Bunny, Daffy Duck, RoadRunner, Wile E. Coyote and the Tazmanian Devil was met with, shall we say, unhappiness. Actually, revulsion might be closer in accuracy.
Sooooo, I watched the debut episode of Loonatics Unleashed this weekend and discovered everybody's worst fears were wrong. It's worse. Bad graphics. Horrible opening credits. Weak voice acting, with only lame attempts to really mimic the originals' voices. Dumb plot. Worthless.
I'd be surprised if even kiddies would return to this trash for a second visit.
You've been warned.
Sooooo, I watched the debut episode of Loonatics Unleashed this weekend and discovered everybody's worst fears were wrong. It's worse. Bad graphics. Horrible opening credits. Weak voice acting, with only lame attempts to really mimic the originals' voices. Dumb plot. Worthless.
I'd be surprised if even kiddies would return to this trash for a second visit.
You've been warned.
Thursday, September 15, 2005
TV: Distant Shores comes to Ontario
I channel surf while watching ball games. I keep the game on the secondary TV, but switch channels between half-innings. Think I'm getting ADD from too much exposure to kids this summer.
Mid-evening, I was doing the remote rhumba and encountered Distant Shores playing on the TVOntario channel. I stopped and watched Peter Davison playing a total ninny of a doctor making a ninny of himself. This six-episode series out of England was one of my year-end break pleasures last winter. I managed to get all six episodes and watched them one night. It was great!
The show plays on many of the themes of my third-favourite movie of all time, Local Hero. In that Bill Forsyth movie, a bunch of Americans arrive on the shores of Scotland, prepared to roll over the locals and get an oil refinery up and going just off the shore. Needless to say, the whimsical local folk just ignore the Americans into a non-problem and everything ends happily.
In Distant Shores, Davison's Dr. Bill Shore gets dragged to a craggy isle off the British coast by his fed-up-with-her-marriage wife, played by Samantha Bond. His beloved new car comes to a stop upon arrival, only re-starting when departure is imminent. His two kids, played winningly by Emmy Fildes and Mathew Davies, need a change of pace and place, and get it. Fildes's wild child Laney, discovers being different can be done in non-obvious ways, while Davies' Harvey rediscovers a father he thought he'd lost.
The islanders, led by Tristan Gemmill's Duncan, are an odd lot. But you come to know and feel for them, especially in the tragedy-marred final episode. I defy anybody with real blood flowing through their veins, not to give way to a tear or two when last we see Duncan.
In a way, the predictable and silly ending to a sweet tale of personal growth, was just perfect.
This is a series worth catching on TV or getting a DVD set.
Mid-evening, I was doing the remote rhumba and encountered Distant Shores playing on the TVOntario channel. I stopped and watched Peter Davison playing a total ninny of a doctor making a ninny of himself. This six-episode series out of England was one of my year-end break pleasures last winter. I managed to get all six episodes and watched them one night. It was great!
The show plays on many of the themes of my third-favourite movie of all time, Local Hero. In that Bill Forsyth movie, a bunch of Americans arrive on the shores of Scotland, prepared to roll over the locals and get an oil refinery up and going just off the shore. Needless to say, the whimsical local folk just ignore the Americans into a non-problem and everything ends happily.
In Distant Shores, Davison's Dr. Bill Shore gets dragged to a craggy isle off the British coast by his fed-up-with-her-marriage wife, played by Samantha Bond. His beloved new car comes to a stop upon arrival, only re-starting when departure is imminent. His two kids, played winningly by Emmy Fildes and Mathew Davies, need a change of pace and place, and get it. Fildes's wild child Laney, discovers being different can be done in non-obvious ways, while Davies' Harvey rediscovers a father he thought he'd lost.
The islanders, led by Tristan Gemmill's Duncan, are an odd lot. But you come to know and feel for them, especially in the tragedy-marred final episode. I defy anybody with real blood flowing through their veins, not to give way to a tear or two when last we see Duncan.
In a way, the predictable and silly ending to a sweet tale of personal growth, was just perfect.
This is a series worth catching on TV or getting a DVD set.
TV: Head Cases headed for ...
The Blue Jays/Red Sox game tonight ended a tad early thanks to Papi Ortiz's latest game-winning home run. That caused me a bit of pain. I cheer for my Blue Jays, but Ortiz is the star of my roto team. At any rate, the game ended in time for me to check out Chris O'Donnell and Adam Goldberg in Head Cases on Fox.
If I was told I could never see another episode again, I'd actually feel some regret. I didn't necessarily love the first episode, even with winsome Krista Allen playing O'Donnell's soon to be ex-wife. But there is a BIT of a seed there. And adding top second banana Richard Kind and another favourite actress, Rachel Leigh Cook, could turn this into a real watcher. Maybe not, but maybe yes. Certainly worth looking in on the second episode to check out the changes.
The key to watchability will be dial back Goldberg's rampaging maniac lawyer act. A lawyer with little or no inhibition isn't exactly a stretch. Angry lawyers (remember Petrocelli?) aren't exactly rare in TVdom. Mixing the two, and then throwing in the panicky O'Donnell's character and it might be overkill. But if the ever-bombastic Goldberg can cut those rages down to one an episode and let the viewers see the fight within he has to wage to keep control, then this series can succeed.
If I was told I could never see another episode again, I'd actually feel some regret. I didn't necessarily love the first episode, even with winsome Krista Allen playing O'Donnell's soon to be ex-wife. But there is a BIT of a seed there. And adding top second banana Richard Kind and another favourite actress, Rachel Leigh Cook, could turn this into a real watcher. Maybe not, but maybe yes. Certainly worth looking in on the second episode to check out the changes.
The key to watchability will be dial back Goldberg's rampaging maniac lawyer act. A lawyer with little or no inhibition isn't exactly a stretch. Angry lawyers (remember Petrocelli?) aren't exactly rare in TVdom. Mixing the two, and then throwing in the panicky O'Donnell's character and it might be overkill. But if the ever-bombastic Goldberg can cut those rages down to one an episode and let the viewers see the fight within he has to wage to keep control, then this series can succeed.
Wednesday, September 14, 2005
MOVIES: Silencing The Sound of Thunder
One of the seemingly endless source of crappy movies these days are good skits on Saturday Night Live. The TV show generates MANY ideas worthy of five minutes, not so many when stretched to movie-length. It so pervasive, that it's like a neon sign blinking 'AVOID ME.'
Ray Bradbury wrote a masterful short story called The Sound of Thunder. It has been collected many times and I manage to read it about once every dozen years or so. I've seen two comic book adaptions that were first-rate, each time, the story being completely told in about 20 pages of art. The ending is always perfect, whether on the comic page, or in the mind's eye as you read the last paragraph of the short story.
So good is the story, that it's been made into a movie at least once before Peter Hyams came along and gave it another shot this summer. He's a director that mined the time travel field in a decent actioner called TimeCop and he also helmed one of my favourite SF movies of all time, Outland. Soooo, good source, good director, not to mention decent lead actors in Ben Kingsley and Ed Burns. Had to be worth shelling out the dollars to watch.
Not so much. No applause at the end of this stinker, just relief that it was time to slink out and try to forget the movie.
The problem in the movie is the padding. Hyams decides to introduce the artifice of time waves to have the changes wrought by the mistake that lies at the heart of the story, slowly over-take our time. BUUZZZZZZZ! Wrong! If the time travellers changed something back 65 million years ago, the meanie plants and animals would have evolved along side mankind and a wholly different architecture that's nowhere to be seen in the movie. If the time travellers brought something back from the time safari, then the bug, spores, virii or whatever would spring forth in epidemic fashion, but would not change the weather and cause earthquakes. In fact, none of that would have happened regardless of the time travellers missteps.
So, a great story turns into a creepy, poorly-written, CGI-enhanced Night Stalker story, replete with dino/mandrills and pterodactyl/vampire bats. Ugly. About the only saving grace was young actress Jemima Rooper, who's about to start a second series of the excellent British TV show, Hex. It's not that Rooper was any great shakes in this movie, it's just good to remember that Hex is coming back soon.
Ray Bradbury wrote a masterful short story called The Sound of Thunder. It has been collected many times and I manage to read it about once every dozen years or so. I've seen two comic book adaptions that were first-rate, each time, the story being completely told in about 20 pages of art. The ending is always perfect, whether on the comic page, or in the mind's eye as you read the last paragraph of the short story.
So good is the story, that it's been made into a movie at least once before Peter Hyams came along and gave it another shot this summer. He's a director that mined the time travel field in a decent actioner called TimeCop and he also helmed one of my favourite SF movies of all time, Outland. Soooo, good source, good director, not to mention decent lead actors in Ben Kingsley and Ed Burns. Had to be worth shelling out the dollars to watch.
Not so much. No applause at the end of this stinker, just relief that it was time to slink out and try to forget the movie.
The problem in the movie is the padding. Hyams decides to introduce the artifice of time waves to have the changes wrought by the mistake that lies at the heart of the story, slowly over-take our time. BUUZZZZZZZ! Wrong! If the time travellers changed something back 65 million years ago, the meanie plants and animals would have evolved along side mankind and a wholly different architecture that's nowhere to be seen in the movie. If the time travellers brought something back from the time safari, then the bug, spores, virii or whatever would spring forth in epidemic fashion, but would not change the weather and cause earthquakes. In fact, none of that would have happened regardless of the time travellers missteps.
So, a great story turns into a creepy, poorly-written, CGI-enhanced Night Stalker story, replete with dino/mandrills and pterodactyl/vampire bats. Ugly. About the only saving grace was young actress Jemima Rooper, who's about to start a second series of the excellent British TV show, Hex. It's not that Rooper was any great shakes in this movie, it's just good to remember that Hex is coming back soon.
Sunday, September 11, 2005
TV: The War at Home ... Surrender!
This review is based completely on the pre-credits act in tonight's premiere of the new Fox series, The War at Home. So cringingly bad that I went back to work. Yep, rather than continue slacking off (I am the world's laziest man), I got out of the easy chair and went back to programming.
A show that makes emininently likeable Michael Rapaport unlikeable in four minutes flat isn't a place where anybody with half a brain wants to spend time at. It might be billed as this century's Married with Children, but it's lacking any heart whatsoever. May it die quickly.
In the meantime, back to work.
A show that makes emininently likeable Michael Rapaport unlikeable in four minutes flat isn't a place where anybody with half a brain wants to spend time at. It might be billed as this century's Married with Children, but it's lacking any heart whatsoever. May it die quickly.
In the meantime, back to work.
Thursday, September 08, 2005
MOVIES: The Sublime and the Ridiculous
Caught on a holiday Monday with nothing to do after the ballgames. What do you do? Why head for a movie theatre of course. And what two movies do you pair together for your own off-beat double feature? The Transporter 2 and March of the Penguins.
Okay, I'm a seriously deranged movie-picker. But the absurd fiction of The Transporter sequel fits quite well with the factual absurdity that is the life of an Emporer Penguin. I enjoyed both movies. A fair bit, too.
Jason Statham has a David Janssen mimics Jackie Chan style in his movies. Not much talk and a grim determination to his antics. Evading cops by flinging one's car from one building to the next, skidding to a tottering on the edge stop in the second building wouldn't be MY first idea. But that's how Frank, the Transporter does things. I could detail the plot, but I'd only confuse you. I could mention model Kate Nauta plays a wacky lingerie-clad gun moll. I could even include mention of gorgeous Amber Valleta. But it's all meaningless.
How are the stunts? What about the car chases? REALLY, REALLY good and unbelievable. 'nuff said.
The perfect antidote to getting all hot and sweaty over Kate and Amber is to head for the Antarctic and the soothing voice of Morgan Freeman as he details the intriguing life of the Emporer Penguin. It's not long, it will fit uncut into a 90-minute TV slot sometime in the future. Yet in those few minutes, any watcher gains a new-found respect for the sea-going birds who walk miles inland to launch their next generation.
Penguins are funny. They waddle and surf the land to get to and fro. They fight like sissies (well the females do, over the males to boot). But after this movie, you can't help but respect them.
It might be a super-sized National Geographic special, but March of the Penguins is a revelation on a movie screen. It's worth the ducats and might even be worth tricking your kids into seeing it.
Thumbs up to both movies.
Okay, I'm a seriously deranged movie-picker. But the absurd fiction of The Transporter sequel fits quite well with the factual absurdity that is the life of an Emporer Penguin. I enjoyed both movies. A fair bit, too.
Jason Statham has a David Janssen mimics Jackie Chan style in his movies. Not much talk and a grim determination to his antics. Evading cops by flinging one's car from one building to the next, skidding to a tottering on the edge stop in the second building wouldn't be MY first idea. But that's how Frank, the Transporter does things. I could detail the plot, but I'd only confuse you. I could mention model Kate Nauta plays a wacky lingerie-clad gun moll. I could even include mention of gorgeous Amber Valleta. But it's all meaningless.
How are the stunts? What about the car chases? REALLY, REALLY good and unbelievable. 'nuff said.
The perfect antidote to getting all hot and sweaty over Kate and Amber is to head for the Antarctic and the soothing voice of Morgan Freeman as he details the intriguing life of the Emporer Penguin. It's not long, it will fit uncut into a 90-minute TV slot sometime in the future. Yet in those few minutes, any watcher gains a new-found respect for the sea-going birds who walk miles inland to launch their next generation.
Penguins are funny. They waddle and surf the land to get to and fro. They fight like sissies (well the females do, over the males to boot). But after this movie, you can't help but respect them.
It might be a super-sized National Geographic special, but March of the Penguins is a revelation on a movie screen. It's worth the ducats and might even be worth tricking your kids into seeing it.
Thumbs up to both movies.
TV: A maybe, a miss and a hit
TV Pilots are an inexact science. Good to great pilots don't always turn into great TV series, and some very good TV series survived so-so pilots. Frequently with many changes.
The series E-Ring this fall will be nothing at all like the pilot, apparently. The wife, a major component of the pilot, doesn't exist in the TV series. That means I can't predict what this Benjamin Bratt-starrer will be like. I did like the supporting cast (wife included), a fair bit of the rescue-by-submarine plot and Bratt's got plenty of TVQ. But the series seems a non-starter for me, following in the brief footsteps of several recent series pushing the American military agenda. JAG excepted. Does the exception make the rule ... or invalidate it?
On the other hand, I'm pretty secure about my projections for the other two series in this blog entry. They are Surface and Threshold, both inspired partly by last year's Lost bonanza.
Surface used to be Fathom. Surface stars nobody I know, save Lake Bell. And I watch LOTS of TV. So there is no stardust to get in my eyes, although Bell looks WAAAAAY better in blue jeans and a rumpled sweatshirt than she did in a Boston lawyer's suit. The story was fractured and each piece was water-based. And there is NO reason to continue after that. Not since the halcyon days of Sea Hunt, has a water-based story survived. Love Boat was a set, for those in an arguing mood.
I just don't see Surface lasting as long as the original Kolchak, Night Stalker, the series that I really feel Surface is an ode to. The Lost comparison? Must have been drugs. I know Lost, and this is no Lost.
On the other hand, Lost isn't that fair a comparison to Threshold either. In fact, a favourite of mine, Stargate SG-1, has a lot more blood in this one that the fine folks marooned on that lost isle.
There's lots of familiar faces, led by scrumptious Carla Gugino. Nobody that saw it will forget Gugino's bit role in Sin City and a TV series worth DVDing was Gugino's Karen Sisco from a couple of years back. She's got the "Samantha Carter" role in Threshold. She's got her own team of eccentrics, including Brent "Star Trek's Data" Spiner as a crotchety med expert and Peter Dinklage as the uninhibited math whiz that speaks 200 languages. Dinklage always seems to make me see the character rather than the lack of height. Always welcome Charles S. Dutton has the leader job Don Davis played so well over at Stargate.
The team gets thrown into an alien contact mission at sea (see, THERE's the connection between the three shows [G]). The contact seems about as successful as most of the Stargate crews' entanglements with their own baddies, the Goa'uld. And the debut episode of Stargate immediately jumped into the body-taking over powers of the bad guys. Same story here. Leads to a real nifty final shot, even if it isn't exactly unpredictable.
Still, I can see this show outlasting Surface by a fair bit. It's got pseudo-science, name stars and Carla Gugino. And her dog Monster, a lovably ugly mutt that could be a breakout star on his own.
The series E-Ring this fall will be nothing at all like the pilot, apparently. The wife, a major component of the pilot, doesn't exist in the TV series. That means I can't predict what this Benjamin Bratt-starrer will be like. I did like the supporting cast (wife included), a fair bit of the rescue-by-submarine plot and Bratt's got plenty of TVQ. But the series seems a non-starter for me, following in the brief footsteps of several recent series pushing the American military agenda. JAG excepted. Does the exception make the rule ... or invalidate it?
On the other hand, I'm pretty secure about my projections for the other two series in this blog entry. They are Surface and Threshold, both inspired partly by last year's Lost bonanza.
Surface used to be Fathom. Surface stars nobody I know, save Lake Bell. And I watch LOTS of TV. So there is no stardust to get in my eyes, although Bell looks WAAAAAY better in blue jeans and a rumpled sweatshirt than she did in a Boston lawyer's suit. The story was fractured and each piece was water-based. And there is NO reason to continue after that. Not since the halcyon days of Sea Hunt, has a water-based story survived. Love Boat was a set, for those in an arguing mood.
I just don't see Surface lasting as long as the original Kolchak, Night Stalker, the series that I really feel Surface is an ode to. The Lost comparison? Must have been drugs. I know Lost, and this is no Lost.
On the other hand, Lost isn't that fair a comparison to Threshold either. In fact, a favourite of mine, Stargate SG-1, has a lot more blood in this one that the fine folks marooned on that lost isle.
There's lots of familiar faces, led by scrumptious Carla Gugino. Nobody that saw it will forget Gugino's bit role in Sin City and a TV series worth DVDing was Gugino's Karen Sisco from a couple of years back. She's got the "Samantha Carter" role in Threshold. She's got her own team of eccentrics, including Brent "Star Trek's Data" Spiner as a crotchety med expert and Peter Dinklage as the uninhibited math whiz that speaks 200 languages. Dinklage always seems to make me see the character rather than the lack of height. Always welcome Charles S. Dutton has the leader job Don Davis played so well over at Stargate.
The team gets thrown into an alien contact mission at sea (see, THERE's the connection between the three shows [G]). The contact seems about as successful as most of the Stargate crews' entanglements with their own baddies, the Goa'uld. And the debut episode of Stargate immediately jumped into the body-taking over powers of the bad guys. Same story here. Leads to a real nifty final shot, even if it isn't exactly unpredictable.
Still, I can see this show outlasting Surface by a fair bit. It's got pseudo-science, name stars and Carla Gugino. And her dog Monster, a lovably ugly mutt that could be a breakout star on his own.
Thursday, September 01, 2005
BOOKS: On the whole, I'd rather...
Sometimes, reading is a bother.
These days, I prefer my books in electronic form. I can carry around a dozen or so on my Sony Clie PDA. The screen on the Clie is great. I can sit/lay in the dark and read comfortably, switching hands as necessary. No bookmarks are needed. It remembers where I left off. And, if I want to look back for something, there's even a search function. Virtual nirvana.
Well, not quite. The battery doesn't last as long as I do, which might or might not be a good thing. And I can't even consider a leisurely bath with the Clie. I use it for business reasons too, and dunking it would NOT be a good thing.
So, I still read the old-fashioned hard-copy books. In fact, by prior arrangement (a publishing of my Gift Wishbook a month before birthdays and Christmases), I get A LOT of books as presents. I suggest paperbacks to lessen the hit on gift-givers' pocketbooks. But I list a bunch of each format, paperback, trade paperback and hard-cover. Naturally I get some of each.
Hard-covers can be handsome reminders that somebody cared enough about me to spend the most. But, they seem to be getting more and more awkward to handle as I get older. A connection, I'm sure. I end up sitting up in the green comfy chair downstairs when I read a hard-cover book these days. But I do love a book I can read while lying on my side.
Trade paperbacks are nice. A medium price-point and easily handled for the books I tend to read. There was the exception of the Captain's Log ombnibus of Star Trek-related titles that weighed a zillion pounds, but I was able to buy an electronic version of that one [G]. The other thing publishers can do to screw up the trade paperback is to die-cut the cover so that it's no longer rectangular. Two recent Clive Cussler books reviewed below, demonstrated I can fight through the annoyance of a badly-cut cover to recommend a book. But it would have been a WHOLE lot nicer not to have to work around the cover issues.
Which brings me to paperbacks. I have had a LOOOOONG love affair with books and paperbacks in general. My personal library now runs close to 5,000 volumes, mostly in the paperback format. I would have no space to actually live in my house otherwise. But even this format is changing. And I think for the better.
The latest Stephanie Plum book by Janet Evanovich, arrived with Large EASY-TO-READ type. It said so right on the front cover. I was a tad annoyed at which of my relatives thought it necessary to give me the large type book, until I realized I had ordered that particular book pre-release in February and it was only a happy happinstance that the book arrived as is. And frankly, I loved it.
The other new formatting I recently saw was in The Lost City by Clive Cussler. It advertised itself as being easier to hold. And by dadgum it was. It was slimmer and a tad taller. And it was perfectly easy to use single-handed. I want MORE paperbacks in this format.
They can even survive a little soap suds. Trust me.
These days, I prefer my books in electronic form. I can carry around a dozen or so on my Sony Clie PDA. The screen on the Clie is great. I can sit/lay in the dark and read comfortably, switching hands as necessary. No bookmarks are needed. It remembers where I left off. And, if I want to look back for something, there's even a search function. Virtual nirvana.
Well, not quite. The battery doesn't last as long as I do, which might or might not be a good thing. And I can't even consider a leisurely bath with the Clie. I use it for business reasons too, and dunking it would NOT be a good thing.
So, I still read the old-fashioned hard-copy books. In fact, by prior arrangement (a publishing of my Gift Wishbook a month before birthdays and Christmases), I get A LOT of books as presents. I suggest paperbacks to lessen the hit on gift-givers' pocketbooks. But I list a bunch of each format, paperback, trade paperback and hard-cover. Naturally I get some of each.
Hard-covers can be handsome reminders that somebody cared enough about me to spend the most. But, they seem to be getting more and more awkward to handle as I get older. A connection, I'm sure. I end up sitting up in the green comfy chair downstairs when I read a hard-cover book these days. But I do love a book I can read while lying on my side.
Trade paperbacks are nice. A medium price-point and easily handled for the books I tend to read. There was the exception of the Captain's Log ombnibus of Star Trek-related titles that weighed a zillion pounds, but I was able to buy an electronic version of that one [G]. The other thing publishers can do to screw up the trade paperback is to die-cut the cover so that it's no longer rectangular. Two recent Clive Cussler books reviewed below, demonstrated I can fight through the annoyance of a badly-cut cover to recommend a book. But it would have been a WHOLE lot nicer not to have to work around the cover issues.
Which brings me to paperbacks. I have had a LOOOOONG love affair with books and paperbacks in general. My personal library now runs close to 5,000 volumes, mostly in the paperback format. I would have no space to actually live in my house otherwise. But even this format is changing. And I think for the better.
The latest Stephanie Plum book by Janet Evanovich, arrived with Large EASY-TO-READ type. It said so right on the front cover. I was a tad annoyed at which of my relatives thought it necessary to give me the large type book, until I realized I had ordered that particular book pre-release in February and it was only a happy happinstance that the book arrived as is. And frankly, I loved it.
The other new formatting I recently saw was in The Lost City by Clive Cussler. It advertised itself as being easier to hold. And by dadgum it was. It was slimmer and a tad taller. And it was perfectly easy to use single-handed. I want MORE paperbacks in this format.
They can even survive a little soap suds. Trust me.
BOOKS: So much for a month
Once I find a writer I enjoy, I tend to hoarde books until I can sit down and spend a month reading one writer. Sometimes, I can buy every book put out by a writer for as much as four or five years, and then go through them one-after-another until I have another half-decade wait 'til the next time I'll read his or her offerings again.
There are exceptions. My birthday and Christmas co-inside with Janet Evanovich's publishing schedule. The latest Stephanie Plum book never lasts two days from receipt. I do the same "get and read" for the latest Harry Potter (J.K. Rowling) and Artemis Fowl (Eoin Colfer) books. But that's about it. I have self-control for the most part.
This month was SUPPOSED to be Clive Cussler month. Turned into a week. I've been a big fan of Cussler since a radio interview he did convinced me to read Raise the Titanic! It was a great book (and one of the stinker movies of all time) and made Cussler a must-read on acquisition day for a loooong time. But somewhere around Sahara (a bad book, punctuated by a character named Cussler, but a very pleasant surprise of a movie), I started collecting Cussler for "reading months." And it was time to plow through the four Cussler co-authored books on the top of my reading pile.
As previously mentioned, I was disappointed by the Kurt Austin series entry, The Lost City. I bit my lip at the Dirk Pitt series tome, The Black Wind, when the Cussler fictional alter-ego once again improbably arrived to save the day, an aaargh moment in an otherwise decent thriller. And I raced through the two entries in the Corporation series, Golden Buddha and Sacred Stone in three days. Thus, my intended enjoyment of Cussler's writing was condensed into just eight days.
But Cussler, writing with Craig Dirgo, has a keeper in The Corporation books, aka the Oregon Files. It's really a literary equivalent of the TV Alias series transplanted to a floating wonder-ship. There's none of the unconvincing romantic by-play that Cussler really doesn't do well. It's wall-to-seawall action and I have no problem seeing these books making good TV or a movie or two. And nary a fictional Cussler to rub me the wrong way.
My brother hobnobs in the higher circles of the literary world and only offers a bemused smile when I mention my affection for Cussler's work. But when it comes to escapist, page-turning fare, it's hard to beat the mcguffin man.
There are exceptions. My birthday and Christmas co-inside with Janet Evanovich's publishing schedule. The latest Stephanie Plum book never lasts two days from receipt. I do the same "get and read" for the latest Harry Potter (J.K. Rowling) and Artemis Fowl (Eoin Colfer) books. But that's about it. I have self-control for the most part.
This month was SUPPOSED to be Clive Cussler month. Turned into a week. I've been a big fan of Cussler since a radio interview he did convinced me to read Raise the Titanic! It was a great book (and one of the stinker movies of all time) and made Cussler a must-read on acquisition day for a loooong time. But somewhere around Sahara (a bad book, punctuated by a character named Cussler, but a very pleasant surprise of a movie), I started collecting Cussler for "reading months." And it was time to plow through the four Cussler co-authored books on the top of my reading pile.
As previously mentioned, I was disappointed by the Kurt Austin series entry, The Lost City. I bit my lip at the Dirk Pitt series tome, The Black Wind, when the Cussler fictional alter-ego once again improbably arrived to save the day, an aaargh moment in an otherwise decent thriller. And I raced through the two entries in the Corporation series, Golden Buddha and Sacred Stone in three days. Thus, my intended enjoyment of Cussler's writing was condensed into just eight days.
But Cussler, writing with Craig Dirgo, has a keeper in The Corporation books, aka the Oregon Files. It's really a literary equivalent of the TV Alias series transplanted to a floating wonder-ship. There's none of the unconvincing romantic by-play that Cussler really doesn't do well. It's wall-to-seawall action and I have no problem seeing these books making good TV or a movie or two. And nary a fictional Cussler to rub me the wrong way.
My brother hobnobs in the higher circles of the literary world and only offers a bemused smile when I mention my affection for Cussler's work. But when it comes to escapist, page-turning fare, it's hard to beat the mcguffin man.
Saturday, August 27, 2005
BOOKS: 4 For World War II
World War II has been popping up in my most recent spate of reading. While only one specifically occurs during the timeframe of WWII, all deal tangentially with the subject in an adventurous aor science fictional way.
I just finished John Birmingham’s Weapons of Choice. It’s sort of a reverse-take on The Philadelphia Experiment. In that movie, a sailor is jumped 40 years into the future from a WWII naval vessel. It’s a good one. Rent it.
The reverse happens in Weapons of Choice, as a naval flotilla a dozen or so years in the future, is sent back into the looming Battle of Midway. And naturally, 21st century technology is akin to magic to the hard-fighting men of the 40’s. Brutally so. The opening skirmish runs the first quarter of the book and reads like a Tom Clancy hardware descriptive. It’s detailed to the extent I was wondering where all the good reviews of this book were coming from, since I’m not a Clancy aficionado. Then, comes a page that simply says “Détente.”
And from there on, the book is fascinating. And crude, and racist, and misogynist and probably a lot like what those times were like. It’s pretty good. Except for one thing.
THERE IS NO ENDING.
Actually, the book comes to a stop, with an ad for the next part of the series, due in November of this year. AAARRRRRGGHHHH!!!! Not a single word about duology, trilogy or whatever is planned, graces the cover. And none of the reviews I read mentioned it either. There ought to be a law consigning publishers who don’t admit to an incomplete story to some sort of stygian jail cell in the outback of Afghanistan.
I recommend you buy this book a few years down the line when Birmingham’s finished the series. Until then, read at your own peril.
Somewhere in the middle of the first section of Weapons of Choice, I took the time to read the Top Ten: The Forty-Niners graphic novel by Alan Moore and Gene Ha. It deals with the aftermath of WWII, when all the super-heroes who fought on both sides of the way, returned to the USA and to Neopolis specifically. It’s a prequel of sorts for the Top Ten series of comics that posit a future where EVERY resident of Neopolis has some sort of super power and the cops who have to police them.
Moore is an exceedingly talented writer. He pays homage to the history of comics while twisting them in a way that takes a certain maturity to read. In fact, this book should have a mature readers’ label on it. I certainly wouldn’t want the younger members of my Movie Mob reading it. Gene Ha’s artwork is a fitting companion to Moore’s words.
The book itself takes the reader through the nascent Neopolis that is a slum of sorts for super-heroes. There’s sex and violence, horror and triumph. This hard-cover graphic novel isn’t cheap, near fourty bucks after taxes, but it does show what good writing and good art can do for an original American art form.
Following those two books, I started off on my Clive Cussler reading month. I had four Cussler books on the top of the reading pile and grabbed The Lost City first. It’s a Kurt Austin adventure, Cussler’s ‘B’ series lead character. WWII gets little shrift in this book, which starts at the cusp of the first World War instead. However, it is stated in the book that one of the BAD people in the book was instrumental in the fomenting of both World Wars. Soooo, I guess it qualifies as a member of this reading set.
The Lost City is not Cussler at his best. It’s certainly a cinematic story, but the solutions to many of the problems are unbelievable or too simple for the supposedly bright folks who get involved. Bluntly, this is a Cussler tome that can be skipped.
Cussler’s ‘A’ character is Dirk Pitt and Black Wind is shared by Pitt and his son, Dirk Jr. It starts off late in WWII with some evil Japanese do-badders and sets up a bunch of Korean zealots as a pre-cursor to a current day “evil organization” not too unlike Al Qaeda. A failed attempt to try and gas cities on the North American west coast in WWII revives to become a threat to modern-day America. Cussler’s love of mcguffins once again leads a reader down a path to nowhere, but the rest of the book is decent Cussler. My faith in Cussler has been shaken occasionally over the years, and I HATE, REALLY HATE, his annoying habit of late of injecting a Cussler character into his books, but it’s a page-turner. Perfect for summer-reading.
No more WWII for me for the next while. A couple of Cussler’s ‘C’ series books dealing with The Corporation await.
I just finished John Birmingham’s Weapons of Choice. It’s sort of a reverse-take on The Philadelphia Experiment. In that movie, a sailor is jumped 40 years into the future from a WWII naval vessel. It’s a good one. Rent it.
The reverse happens in Weapons of Choice, as a naval flotilla a dozen or so years in the future, is sent back into the looming Battle of Midway. And naturally, 21st century technology is akin to magic to the hard-fighting men of the 40’s. Brutally so. The opening skirmish runs the first quarter of the book and reads like a Tom Clancy hardware descriptive. It’s detailed to the extent I was wondering where all the good reviews of this book were coming from, since I’m not a Clancy aficionado. Then, comes a page that simply says “Détente.”
And from there on, the book is fascinating. And crude, and racist, and misogynist and probably a lot like what those times were like. It’s pretty good. Except for one thing.
THERE IS NO ENDING.
Actually, the book comes to a stop, with an ad for the next part of the series, due in November of this year. AAARRRRRGGHHHH!!!! Not a single word about duology, trilogy or whatever is planned, graces the cover. And none of the reviews I read mentioned it either. There ought to be a law consigning publishers who don’t admit to an incomplete story to some sort of stygian jail cell in the outback of Afghanistan.
I recommend you buy this book a few years down the line when Birmingham’s finished the series. Until then, read at your own peril.
Somewhere in the middle of the first section of Weapons of Choice, I took the time to read the Top Ten: The Forty-Niners graphic novel by Alan Moore and Gene Ha. It deals with the aftermath of WWII, when all the super-heroes who fought on both sides of the way, returned to the USA and to Neopolis specifically. It’s a prequel of sorts for the Top Ten series of comics that posit a future where EVERY resident of Neopolis has some sort of super power and the cops who have to police them.
Moore is an exceedingly talented writer. He pays homage to the history of comics while twisting them in a way that takes a certain maturity to read. In fact, this book should have a mature readers’ label on it. I certainly wouldn’t want the younger members of my Movie Mob reading it. Gene Ha’s artwork is a fitting companion to Moore’s words.
The book itself takes the reader through the nascent Neopolis that is a slum of sorts for super-heroes. There’s sex and violence, horror and triumph. This hard-cover graphic novel isn’t cheap, near fourty bucks after taxes, but it does show what good writing and good art can do for an original American art form.
Following those two books, I started off on my Clive Cussler reading month. I had four Cussler books on the top of the reading pile and grabbed The Lost City first. It’s a Kurt Austin adventure, Cussler’s ‘B’ series lead character. WWII gets little shrift in this book, which starts at the cusp of the first World War instead. However, it is stated in the book that one of the BAD people in the book was instrumental in the fomenting of both World Wars. Soooo, I guess it qualifies as a member of this reading set.
The Lost City is not Cussler at his best. It’s certainly a cinematic story, but the solutions to many of the problems are unbelievable or too simple for the supposedly bright folks who get involved. Bluntly, this is a Cussler tome that can be skipped.
Cussler’s ‘A’ character is Dirk Pitt and Black Wind is shared by Pitt and his son, Dirk Jr. It starts off late in WWII with some evil Japanese do-badders and sets up a bunch of Korean zealots as a pre-cursor to a current day “evil organization” not too unlike Al Qaeda. A failed attempt to try and gas cities on the North American west coast in WWII revives to become a threat to modern-day America. Cussler’s love of mcguffins once again leads a reader down a path to nowhere, but the rest of the book is decent Cussler. My faith in Cussler has been shaken occasionally over the years, and I HATE, REALLY HATE, his annoying habit of late of injecting a Cussler character into his books, but it’s a page-turner. Perfect for summer-reading.
No more WWII for me for the next while. A couple of Cussler’s ‘C’ series books dealing with The Corporation await.
SPORTS: If I was GM of the Blue Jays
J.P. Ricciardi didn’t ask me, but I’ve come up with a plan to spend the $30 million or so dollars Ted Rogers will give him extra next year to populate the Toronto Blue Jays’ roster.
I’m not going to go crazy in the free-agent pool. It’s going to cost close to $9 million next year, but I hire Kevin Millwood to give that extra boost to the starting pitcher roster. I’d prefer to give the money to Matt Morris, but you don’t win bidding wars with the St. Louis Cardinals. On the other hand, Millwood’s turn this season in Cleveland means he’s over the AL Introductory Phase that hurts a LOT of ex-NL’ers.
The other low-cost hire is Mark Bellhorn, to come in as a back-up second-baseman and disciplined pinch-hitter. If Bellhorn goes elsewhere this season and gets a contract next year for joining up this year, then I go after ex-Blue Jay John Macdonald.
Now, I remodel the roster with a couple of trades that involve taking on salary. The first one is the big one: Reliever Jason Frasor and Triple AAA prospects John Haddig (3B) and David Purcey (LHP) going to the Cincinnati Reds for Ken Griffey.
The Reds want to move an outfielder and big-ticket Griffey is part of a four-man outfield that suffers from only having three spots to play regularly. He’s been injury-prone and the contract makes him risky to any team, including the Reds. In Haddig, the Reds get the Future’s Game World 3B starter in case fellow kiddy hot-cornerman Edwin Encarnacion falters, and a first-round, big-potential left-hander in Purcey. Frasor could even end up being the Reds’ closer, a role he did last season in Toronto. At worst he helps out in the bullpen.
Griffey represents a gamble to the Jays. He’s earning eight figures and he’s got that aforementioned injury bug. About this stage in the career of Paul Molitor, he was similarly unblessed. And Molitor bounced back really well. While Griffey isn’t the best player in baseball any longer (and he WAS at one point), he’s a tonic to the Blue Jay batting order.
Power, which Griffey represents as much as anything else, is also needed in the form of Pat Burrell, who comes over from Philadelphia, along with Class A OF Jake Blalock, for OF Alexis Rios and reliever Brandon League. Philly makes this trade because Rios has the potential to be better than Burrell and he’s almost as good now, for a lot less money. He’s also a significantly better outfielder, which helps the Phillies defensively. League is that proverbial power arm who might or might not ever harnass it. The Jays get Burrell because he’s a mature power-hitter who can hide in the DH slot and then play outfield in a pinch. Blalock is a future major-league outfielder.
Lastly, the Jays move perennial prospect Guillermo Quiroz to the Tampa Devil Rays for Toby Hall. Quiroz still holds allure as a starter while Hall has to get out of Tampa and away from Lou Piniella (Who might move out at the same time anyway).
So let’s see how the Blue Jay roster takes shape in 2006. Across the outfield, we have Frank Catalanotto/Reed Johnson in LF, Vernon Wells in CF and Ken Griffey in RF. The infield starters are Corey Koskie 3B, Russ Adams SS, Orlando Hudson 2B and Shea Hillenbrand 1B. The catcher combo is Greg Zaun and Toby Hall. The DH is Pat Burrell, who covers off the fifth-outfielder spot. The IF backups are Aaron Hill on the left side, and Mark Bellhorn on the left side. The 14th offensive spot goes to PH Eric Hinske, if he can’t be disposed of. Otherwise, John Ford Griffin probably gets the nod over Greg Gross, who needs to keep playing full-time. Griffin’s a future DH, if he ever gets to the majors. If Hinske does stay, then he’s the backup 1B. Otherwise, Koskie or Burrell might occasionally have to pick up a first-basemen’s mitt.
The batting order goes Adams, Catalanotto/Johnson, Griffey, Burrell, Wells, Koskie, Hillenbrand, Zaun/Hall, Hudson.
The pitching staff sees Roy Halladay, Ted Lilly, Kevin Millwood, Gustavo Chacin and Scott Downs produce a decent mix of experience and youth. The long man in the six-man bullpen is Pete Walker. The middle men are rookie Lee Gronkiewicz, Justin Speir, Vince Chulk and the lone lefty, Scott Schoeneweis. The closer remains Miguel Batista. It would be nice to find a second lefty, but he would have to be at least as good as the man he replaces. Alternatively, the Jays could go with one of the Syracuse-bound youngsters in the fifth slot and move Downs to long relief. That might cost Walker his spot, or more likely free up Speir or Chulk for trade.
Down in the minors, Gross would be the top offensive prospect, along with first baseman Kevin Barker. The pitchers itching to get to Toronto would include Dave Bush and Dustin McGowan, currently 40 per cent of the Blue Jay starting staff, as well as Chad Gaudin, Francisco Rosario, Shawn Marcum, Spike Lundberg and Zach Jackson. That seems to be a decent pool of pitching talent to handle the inevitable injuries.
The one weak spot would be finding a couple of veteran MIF types to play in Syracuse to cover off any injuries to Hudson, Adams and/or Hill.
There you have it. The Blue Jays, 2006 playoff contenders.
I’m not going to go crazy in the free-agent pool. It’s going to cost close to $9 million next year, but I hire Kevin Millwood to give that extra boost to the starting pitcher roster. I’d prefer to give the money to Matt Morris, but you don’t win bidding wars with the St. Louis Cardinals. On the other hand, Millwood’s turn this season in Cleveland means he’s over the AL Introductory Phase that hurts a LOT of ex-NL’ers.
The other low-cost hire is Mark Bellhorn, to come in as a back-up second-baseman and disciplined pinch-hitter. If Bellhorn goes elsewhere this season and gets a contract next year for joining up this year, then I go after ex-Blue Jay John Macdonald.
Now, I remodel the roster with a couple of trades that involve taking on salary. The first one is the big one: Reliever Jason Frasor and Triple AAA prospects John Haddig (3B) and David Purcey (LHP) going to the Cincinnati Reds for Ken Griffey.
The Reds want to move an outfielder and big-ticket Griffey is part of a four-man outfield that suffers from only having three spots to play regularly. He’s been injury-prone and the contract makes him risky to any team, including the Reds. In Haddig, the Reds get the Future’s Game World 3B starter in case fellow kiddy hot-cornerman Edwin Encarnacion falters, and a first-round, big-potential left-hander in Purcey. Frasor could even end up being the Reds’ closer, a role he did last season in Toronto. At worst he helps out in the bullpen.
Griffey represents a gamble to the Jays. He’s earning eight figures and he’s got that aforementioned injury bug. About this stage in the career of Paul Molitor, he was similarly unblessed. And Molitor bounced back really well. While Griffey isn’t the best player in baseball any longer (and he WAS at one point), he’s a tonic to the Blue Jay batting order.
Power, which Griffey represents as much as anything else, is also needed in the form of Pat Burrell, who comes over from Philadelphia, along with Class A OF Jake Blalock, for OF Alexis Rios and reliever Brandon League. Philly makes this trade because Rios has the potential to be better than Burrell and he’s almost as good now, for a lot less money. He’s also a significantly better outfielder, which helps the Phillies defensively. League is that proverbial power arm who might or might not ever harnass it. The Jays get Burrell because he’s a mature power-hitter who can hide in the DH slot and then play outfield in a pinch. Blalock is a future major-league outfielder.
Lastly, the Jays move perennial prospect Guillermo Quiroz to the Tampa Devil Rays for Toby Hall. Quiroz still holds allure as a starter while Hall has to get out of Tampa and away from Lou Piniella (Who might move out at the same time anyway).
So let’s see how the Blue Jay roster takes shape in 2006. Across the outfield, we have Frank Catalanotto/Reed Johnson in LF, Vernon Wells in CF and Ken Griffey in RF. The infield starters are Corey Koskie 3B, Russ Adams SS, Orlando Hudson 2B and Shea Hillenbrand 1B. The catcher combo is Greg Zaun and Toby Hall. The DH is Pat Burrell, who covers off the fifth-outfielder spot. The IF backups are Aaron Hill on the left side, and Mark Bellhorn on the left side. The 14th offensive spot goes to PH Eric Hinske, if he can’t be disposed of. Otherwise, John Ford Griffin probably gets the nod over Greg Gross, who needs to keep playing full-time. Griffin’s a future DH, if he ever gets to the majors. If Hinske does stay, then he’s the backup 1B. Otherwise, Koskie or Burrell might occasionally have to pick up a first-basemen’s mitt.
The batting order goes Adams, Catalanotto/Johnson, Griffey, Burrell, Wells, Koskie, Hillenbrand, Zaun/Hall, Hudson.
The pitching staff sees Roy Halladay, Ted Lilly, Kevin Millwood, Gustavo Chacin and Scott Downs produce a decent mix of experience and youth. The long man in the six-man bullpen is Pete Walker. The middle men are rookie Lee Gronkiewicz, Justin Speir, Vince Chulk and the lone lefty, Scott Schoeneweis. The closer remains Miguel Batista. It would be nice to find a second lefty, but he would have to be at least as good as the man he replaces. Alternatively, the Jays could go with one of the Syracuse-bound youngsters in the fifth slot and move Downs to long relief. That might cost Walker his spot, or more likely free up Speir or Chulk for trade.
Down in the minors, Gross would be the top offensive prospect, along with first baseman Kevin Barker. The pitchers itching to get to Toronto would include Dave Bush and Dustin McGowan, currently 40 per cent of the Blue Jay starting staff, as well as Chad Gaudin, Francisco Rosario, Shawn Marcum, Spike Lundberg and Zach Jackson. That seems to be a decent pool of pitching talent to handle the inevitable injuries.
The one weak spot would be finding a couple of veteran MIF types to play in Syracuse to cover off any injuries to Hudson, Adams and/or Hill.
There you have it. The Blue Jays, 2006 playoff contenders.
Sunday, August 21, 2005
TV: The Sci-Fi Three
Normally, I like to watch my episodical TV in at least month-long chunks. Especially the shows given to cliff-hangers. Thus, over the last few years, I've become accustomed to sitting down and watching the whole of a Stargate SG-1 season. Somehow, however, I actually slipped two season behind and never actually got to watch the first season of Stargate Atlantis ... until recently.
About a month ago, I watched seasons seven and eight of SG-1 and the debut season of Atlantis. And I thoroughly enjoyed the week it took me to watch the 60 hours or so of science fiction. I was a sceptic of SG-1 when it debuted, utterly convinced there was no way the show could last beyond its inaugural season, despite liking the show. Keep that in mind as you read further, I COULD be wrong again, and in a major way.
The last two seasons of SG-1 each were meant to be a final season. Thus, the shows ended pleasantly at a conclusion of sorts. This is a wonderful thing. Atlantis did not. And this was not a good thing.
I had found myself quite enjoying Atlantis more than its parent. Torri Higginson and Rachel Luttrell grew on me with each passing show, while I found I could put with David Hewlett's caustic Canadian (we had to export him to the States to maintain our 'nice' reputation). Joe Flanigan had his Richard Dean Anderson patter down pat and I was constantly reminded how much the early years of SG-1 was fun. But the cliff-hanger ending meant breaking the now-established pattern of "wait 'til the year's over" viewing habit.
Besides, it wasn't the only show solving a cliff-hanger from last season. The two Stargates have been teamed with Battlestar Galactica to provide viewers with a Friday-full of good 'ol space opera. So I reluctantly started watching the shows as they come out, starting early last month.
And I am troubled. Of the three, only Atlantis has remained fun to watch. I have no qualms with it, so far into the new season. Jason Momoa, one of the few good things about the not-sadly belated North Shore, has largely replaced Canuck Rainbow Francks as a regular. But Francks has gotten himself a Daniel Shanks-like semi-regular guest-star spot that's been effective so far. (Shanks largely took season six of SG-1 off, making it into about a quarter of the episodes). Nothing has been cringe-worthy in the show and each hour seems to be able to stand on its own.
Before bouncing off the roof about the other two, let me state that I'm a card-carrying agnostic. I think religion is good, organized religion too frequently not so good. I've played bridge on teams with a Scottish Presbyterian, a Roman Catholic, a Hindu, a Jew and and Muslim. You CAN get along, whatever your beliefs, if you permit others their's. I think religion belongs in the home and at your place of worship. Not on my TV screen, as a major plot element.
So, despite a real star turn by ex-Farscaper Claudia Black as the mostly amoral Vala, SG-1 has come close to losing me for this season. In fact, Black has ended her arc as of this week, and woe to any producer who doesn't rush to get her back. They MUST take advantage of the out they left themselves when Vala apparently sacrificed herself to stave off the religious zealots, the Ori. (The religion being Origin, get it, ORIGIN. Yeah, lame.)
As such, the shows have descended from the fight against the Goa'uld false gods, who KNEW they were taking advantage of ignorant followers, to nuts who are doing it for religious reasons. Gak! Sure, there's some resonance in forward-thinkers as to pastiching the current uber-evangelic society we Earthlings find ourselves in these days. But I watch TV to get AWAY from the vagaries of our existence. The Ori schmucks (And YES, I know the translation of the word) are all-too powerful in a way that means we are a "War of the Worlds" viral solution away from winning. It's not going to end up being human engenuity that carries the day. Just some random happening. Even though I have enjoyed the other SG-1 additions, Ben Browder, Beau Bridges and the always welcome Lexa Doig (of Andromeda fame), I've got serious worries that SG-1 is finally in a final season.
Which brings me to the new, darker Battlestar Galactica. And it's internal battle between the religious following of now-deposed President Roslin and those following the orders of Commander Adama. Sure, it's a made-up religion and yes, I didn't shed any tears when the book-carrying priestess got blown up this week, but it's so ... ground-level. Galactica is SUPPOSED to look somewhat grungy. Sure, they don't have top-level communications to go with their star-spanning space-ships. But the primitiveness of what they do have, makes this whole Cylon thing, with their instant Galaxy-wide internet too incongrous. A lot of people make a lot of stupid decisions in key positions. When you have no real internal logic that makes sense, you play up religion. Gak, yet again. Or should I say FRAK again! It's cute the way the writers get Frak to replace the other F-word, but EVERYBODY in Galactica's using it and the cute charm of it has become TOO FRAKKIN' MUCH!
There ARE some nice touches this season in Galactica. The constant Baltar-Six internal monologues have been few and far between. Tish Helfer is gorgeous, but SOOOOO unneccesary. Richard Hatch is getting some good play as a bad guy who's going to be a REALLY bad guy some time soon, aided by henchman James Remar, who's work is consistently enjoyable. The multi-Boomers have devolved into the single Cylon who MIGHT be siding with the humans. Grace Park's handling that duty well. But I still can't get over having religion thrust into my fiction.
At some point, and that point's soon, the Sci-Fi Three, might become ONE ... and wait for the others, for a time when I've got absolutely nothing else to watch.
About a month ago, I watched seasons seven and eight of SG-1 and the debut season of Atlantis. And I thoroughly enjoyed the week it took me to watch the 60 hours or so of science fiction. I was a sceptic of SG-1 when it debuted, utterly convinced there was no way the show could last beyond its inaugural season, despite liking the show. Keep that in mind as you read further, I COULD be wrong again, and in a major way.
The last two seasons of SG-1 each were meant to be a final season. Thus, the shows ended pleasantly at a conclusion of sorts. This is a wonderful thing. Atlantis did not. And this was not a good thing.
I had found myself quite enjoying Atlantis more than its parent. Torri Higginson and Rachel Luttrell grew on me with each passing show, while I found I could put with David Hewlett's caustic Canadian (we had to export him to the States to maintain our 'nice' reputation). Joe Flanigan had his Richard Dean Anderson patter down pat and I was constantly reminded how much the early years of SG-1 was fun. But the cliff-hanger ending meant breaking the now-established pattern of "wait 'til the year's over" viewing habit.
Besides, it wasn't the only show solving a cliff-hanger from last season. The two Stargates have been teamed with Battlestar Galactica to provide viewers with a Friday-full of good 'ol space opera. So I reluctantly started watching the shows as they come out, starting early last month.
And I am troubled. Of the three, only Atlantis has remained fun to watch. I have no qualms with it, so far into the new season. Jason Momoa, one of the few good things about the not-sadly belated North Shore, has largely replaced Canuck Rainbow Francks as a regular. But Francks has gotten himself a Daniel Shanks-like semi-regular guest-star spot that's been effective so far. (Shanks largely took season six of SG-1 off, making it into about a quarter of the episodes). Nothing has been cringe-worthy in the show and each hour seems to be able to stand on its own.
Before bouncing off the roof about the other two, let me state that I'm a card-carrying agnostic. I think religion is good, organized religion too frequently not so good. I've played bridge on teams with a Scottish Presbyterian, a Roman Catholic, a Hindu, a Jew and and Muslim. You CAN get along, whatever your beliefs, if you permit others their's. I think religion belongs in the home and at your place of worship. Not on my TV screen, as a major plot element.
So, despite a real star turn by ex-Farscaper Claudia Black as the mostly amoral Vala, SG-1 has come close to losing me for this season. In fact, Black has ended her arc as of this week, and woe to any producer who doesn't rush to get her back. They MUST take advantage of the out they left themselves when Vala apparently sacrificed herself to stave off the religious zealots, the Ori. (The religion being Origin, get it, ORIGIN. Yeah, lame.)
As such, the shows have descended from the fight against the Goa'uld false gods, who KNEW they were taking advantage of ignorant followers, to nuts who are doing it for religious reasons. Gak! Sure, there's some resonance in forward-thinkers as to pastiching the current uber-evangelic society we Earthlings find ourselves in these days. But I watch TV to get AWAY from the vagaries of our existence. The Ori schmucks (And YES, I know the translation of the word) are all-too powerful in a way that means we are a "War of the Worlds" viral solution away from winning. It's not going to end up being human engenuity that carries the day. Just some random happening. Even though I have enjoyed the other SG-1 additions, Ben Browder, Beau Bridges and the always welcome Lexa Doig (of Andromeda fame), I've got serious worries that SG-1 is finally in a final season.
Which brings me to the new, darker Battlestar Galactica. And it's internal battle between the religious following of now-deposed President Roslin and those following the orders of Commander Adama. Sure, it's a made-up religion and yes, I didn't shed any tears when the book-carrying priestess got blown up this week, but it's so ... ground-level. Galactica is SUPPOSED to look somewhat grungy. Sure, they don't have top-level communications to go with their star-spanning space-ships. But the primitiveness of what they do have, makes this whole Cylon thing, with their instant Galaxy-wide internet too incongrous. A lot of people make a lot of stupid decisions in key positions. When you have no real internal logic that makes sense, you play up religion. Gak, yet again. Or should I say FRAK again! It's cute the way the writers get Frak to replace the other F-word, but EVERYBODY in Galactica's using it and the cute charm of it has become TOO FRAKKIN' MUCH!
There ARE some nice touches this season in Galactica. The constant Baltar-Six internal monologues have been few and far between. Tish Helfer is gorgeous, but SOOOOO unneccesary. Richard Hatch is getting some good play as a bad guy who's going to be a REALLY bad guy some time soon, aided by henchman James Remar, who's work is consistently enjoyable. The multi-Boomers have devolved into the single Cylon who MIGHT be siding with the humans. Grace Park's handling that duty well. But I still can't get over having religion thrust into my fiction.
At some point, and that point's soon, the Sci-Fi Three, might become ONE ... and wait for the others, for a time when I've got absolutely nothing else to watch.
Tuesday, July 19, 2005
BOOKS: Emmeline
Emmeline. It's a pretty name. I saw it once a couple of years back as a character's name in Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix. Emmeline Vance. A couple of mentions, nothing more. Didn't think of it again until this month.
I started reading the wonderful Retrieval Artists novels by K.K. Rusch. The lead character of this "NYPD on the Moon" has a long-dead daughter named ... Emmeline. It's a name that stuck this time as I polished off The Disappeared, Extremes and then Consequences. Each seemed a better read than the prior volumes, which is a rarity these days.
When I opened up Harry Potter and the Half-Blood Prince Saturday, it didn't take long to run smack dab into another mention of the now deceased Emmeline Vance.
Four straight books, each with a character named Emmeline, who is dead. And more than 40 years of reading before these four books with only ONE mention of an Emmeline, who was alive in that tome.
Wonder if a lottery ticket purchase might be in order?
I started reading the wonderful Retrieval Artists novels by K.K. Rusch. The lead character of this "NYPD on the Moon" has a long-dead daughter named ... Emmeline. It's a name that stuck this time as I polished off The Disappeared, Extremes and then Consequences. Each seemed a better read than the prior volumes, which is a rarity these days.
When I opened up Harry Potter and the Half-Blood Prince Saturday, it didn't take long to run smack dab into another mention of the now deceased Emmeline Vance.
Four straight books, each with a character named Emmeline, who is dead. And more than 40 years of reading before these four books with only ONE mention of an Emmeline, who was alive in that tome.
Wonder if a lottery ticket purchase might be in order?
BOOKS: Harry Potter 6 ... 6 out of 10.
Having started my 50th year on this planet some 37 minutes ago, it strikes me as probably the time to recommence kvetching here on this blog. Monday was my birthday and it was preceded by an interesting weekend of programming and getting some reading in ... the You-Know-What book.
To prove I am a curmudgeon, I only have to note that I think the last two Harry Potter books have been monumentally disappointing and the the last one, in particular, was a bad book. I loved the first book, think fondly of the next two and couldn't find much to complain nor laud about the fourth book. But the fifth was a chore to read. So, you understand my mindset approaching Saturday's delivery of book six, Harry Potter and the Half-Blood Prince.
To say it was a marked jump back to better than average is an understatement. To say I was still disappointed at the climax of the book is equally obvious. J.K. Rowling's imagination, a wonderful thing, flits here and there throughout the beginning and the middle of the book. Not sure why she decided to throw in a couple of chapters of "What's Gone On Before" exposition to start the book, since surely the number of readers JUST now starting the series must surely number less than ... well, what IS less than zero? But even those chapters had some moments.
There are Rowlingian moments for most of the rest of the book, many of which just do not pay off. House elves show up a couple of times for no good reason, nor effect. A trip to the Weasley's joke emporium in Diagon Alley sets our minds wondering WHAT will the Gang of Three do with some of the offerings found therein. Nothing, as it turns out. Still, the magic that makes this series readable, even for an old coot like me, hovers over the pages as they seem to turn by themselves.
Until the climax. Which feels phony to me. I believe a dead man will be alive sometime in book seven. (Hint: The Phoenix did it). I believe a bad guy will be a good guy about the same time, as dislikeable as the bad/good/bad/probably good guy might be). Let me guess the plot to Book 7. Take one part disinterested school life, one part Spiderman swipe, four parts of Hercules 12 Labours and one part of Alec Guiness' "May the Force Be With You" ghost-speech and you will have distilled the final volume to its essence.
Rowling has the ability to be inventive. I'm sure I have some of the minor details completely wrong. But I'd be very much surprised if we don't have Harry Potter triumphant at the finish line with all the beloved characters gather around the bruised and battered hero. And I mean ALL of them, even the one sneering over in the corner.
To prove I am a curmudgeon, I only have to note that I think the last two Harry Potter books have been monumentally disappointing and the the last one, in particular, was a bad book. I loved the first book, think fondly of the next two and couldn't find much to complain nor laud about the fourth book. But the fifth was a chore to read. So, you understand my mindset approaching Saturday's delivery of book six, Harry Potter and the Half-Blood Prince.
To say it was a marked jump back to better than average is an understatement. To say I was still disappointed at the climax of the book is equally obvious. J.K. Rowling's imagination, a wonderful thing, flits here and there throughout the beginning and the middle of the book. Not sure why she decided to throw in a couple of chapters of "What's Gone On Before" exposition to start the book, since surely the number of readers JUST now starting the series must surely number less than ... well, what IS less than zero? But even those chapters had some moments.
There are Rowlingian moments for most of the rest of the book, many of which just do not pay off. House elves show up a couple of times for no good reason, nor effect. A trip to the Weasley's joke emporium in Diagon Alley sets our minds wondering WHAT will the Gang of Three do with some of the offerings found therein. Nothing, as it turns out. Still, the magic that makes this series readable, even for an old coot like me, hovers over the pages as they seem to turn by themselves.
Until the climax. Which feels phony to me. I believe a dead man will be alive sometime in book seven. (Hint: The Phoenix did it). I believe a bad guy will be a good guy about the same time, as dislikeable as the bad/good/bad/probably good guy might be). Let me guess the plot to Book 7. Take one part disinterested school life, one part Spiderman swipe, four parts of Hercules 12 Labours and one part of Alec Guiness' "May the Force Be With You" ghost-speech and you will have distilled the final volume to its essence.
Rowling has the ability to be inventive. I'm sure I have some of the minor details completely wrong. But I'd be very much surprised if we don't have Harry Potter triumphant at the finish line with all the beloved characters gather around the bruised and battered hero. And I mean ALL of them, even the one sneering over in the corner.
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