December 30, 2004
Out, out brief candle: Lumiere's gone
With the tsunami death toll now estimated at 100,000+, I worry that Jerry Orbach's passing won't get the attention it deserves. No way, dude. Everybody's eulogizing the best Frenchified singing candle of all time from Beauty and the Beast. And wasn't he in some show called Law & Order or something, too? Shed a tear with Gothamist. (Thanks to gawker.com.)
Posted by oko at 05:23 AM | Comments (0)
December 29, 2004
White cats do White Stripes
I love cats and I love the White Stripes, so what's better than watching cats rock out to the White Stripes? Nothing. Exactly. (Thanks to Joel Veitch and rathergood.com, creators of the immortal Viking kitties, which you can see doing Led Zeppelin's Immigrant Song here.)
Posted by oko at 02:39 PM | Comments (0)
Doctor Zhivago vs. the Steward of Gondor
It appears that when old-time movie star and gambling addict Omar Sharif of Doctor Zhivago and Lawrence of Arabia fame isn't busy writing his bridge column, he enjoys smashing in the faces of the people around him, notably, actor John Noble, who played Denethor in The Lord of the Rings. Read about their alcohol-fueled brawl at Australia's National Nine News. (The story is six weeks old, but it's so bizarre, it deserves wider play.)
Posted by oko at 03:12 AM | Comments (0)
December 27, 2004
The Next Generation is so over
After six months of extremely dedicated television viewing, I've finally finished watching every single episode of Star Trek: The Next Generation (from now on, known as "TNG"). I was always a fan of Star Trek the original series (from now on, known as "TOS"), but I had never paid any attention to any of the TV sequels. So why did I start on this arduous undertaking, why did I decide to commit some 176 hours of my life to a show that's been off the air for a decade?
Well, a big part of it was due to the fact that I had just watched every episode of TOS, and I wanted to see McCoy, Spock, and Scotty again, since they all made guest appearances on the newer series, and I wanted to see how TNG treated the characters (not very well, as it turned out). But an even bigger part is that I'm unemployed (AKA a freelance writer) and I've got the time to give such a time-consuming project.
After the horrible first season of TNG, I was thinking of giving up, but I still had the Spock two-parter to watch (which turned out to be crappy). I hated dweeby Wesley Crusher, eye-roll-inducing psychobabbler Deanna Troi, and creepy woman-stalker Geordi La Forge. I thought Jean-Luc Picard had about as much charisma as a damp popsicle stick compared to the kickass babe magnet known as Captain Kirk. But after a while, the characters actually started growing on me: Data and Worf were kinda fun, and the Borg were kinda interesting, too.
And now that I've seen the well written and touching last episode, I'm sad my ordeal is over. I still don't think TNG's characters are as interesting, iconic, or funny as the original trio of Kirk, Spock, and McCoy, but I grew to like them. In my case, familiarity bred affection. TNG lacked the humor (mostly campy) of TOS, and had a P.C. earnestness about it that was sometimes grating, but the characters (and actors portraying them) seemed to genuinely like and respect each other. And after seven years' worth of character development, there was enough back story that you felt you really knew these people, and cared about what happened to them.
So I'm done, it's all over, and, thank God, I finally don't have to watch Star Trek anymore. Until my DVDs of Deep Space Nine start rolling in. Hey, I need to know what happens to Worf!
Posted by oko at 02:24 AM | Comments (0)
December 25, 2004
Have yourself a fishy little Christmas
I'm still reeling from food overload last night. Polish Christmases aren't celebrated on Christmas Day, but Christmas Eve. The big day is called Wigilia, pronounced Vee-geel-yah, with the accent on the geel, or to be honest, accent on the fish.
Your appetizers are index-card sized pieces of communion wafer, which you break and eat with your guests, wishing them a Merry Christmas. The crisp blandness of the wafer is in direct contrast to the soft salty fishiness that you will ingest in great quantities in the hours to come. No meat is allowed on this holy day and herring is the big specialty: herring in oil and onions, herring in sour cream and onions, and a herring and white bean salad with mayonnaise and mustard (I'm not sure about the onions). The herring is raw, like little bits of salty sushi, and has lots of sharp, little bones, so you have the added excitement of never knowing when you'll get a fish bone caught in your throat. Oh, and then there's the fried pike (also filled with bones), fried white fish, fried ground-up salmon cutlets, and fried ground-up whitefish cutlets. To complement this Baltic Admiral's feast, there's beet soup, boiled potatoes, rye bread, and two kinds of homemade pierogi, potato and mushroom. And warm fruit compote to drink everything down with. And did I mention all the herring?
Anyway, I don't have time to tell you more about all the other Polish traditions, like waiting until the first star comes out before starting dinner (what do you do on a cloudy Christmas Eve?) or the empty plate or celebrating midnight mass, because I have to go to my mom's to pick up the herring I forgot to take home last night. What? You think I left the herring on purpose? Well, friend, you are dead wrong - I LOVE herring - to me, Christmas herring is a special treat on a par with foie gras (but not as morally objectionable). I'm not sure what it is about herring and countries on the Baltic - Swedes have their special herring specialties that Americans don't understand either. All I can say is that raw herring appears to be an acquired taste that only the most refined of palates can appreciate, including millions of alley cats around the world. Wesolych Swiat, kitty-cats!
Posted by oko at 05:13 PM | Comments (0)
December 17, 2004
Earthsea earthsucked
I pity the fools who watched the SciFi Channel's adaptation of Ursula K. Le Guin's classic Earthsea novels. I pity myself because I was one of them, wasting four hours of my life on a teen-angst-ridden piece of trash that bore little resemblance to the original. To say I was disappointed would be an understatement - I hated it, from the unnecessary plot changes to the manufactured romance to the odd grunge-inspired little woven cap that the charisma-less actor who played Ged wore. Anyway, I guess I'm not the only one disappointed. See Ursula K. Le Guin's complaint at Slate.
Posted by oko at 06:10 AM | Comments (0)
December 13, 2004
A fantastic list of fantasy books
In no particular order (except for my number one), my favorite fantasy series are (drum roll please). . .
The Chronicles of Narnia by C.S. Lewis
These books have had a seminal influence on my life - people may say they're not particularly well written, but they hold an irresistible fascination for me, and they remain my favorite fantasy series of all time.
The Lord of the Rings by J.R.R. Tolkien
'Nuff said, the book that launched a thousand imitators, none of them even coming close to the beauty, grandeur, and melancholy of the original.
The Chronicles of Prydain by Lloyd Alexander
Undeniably derivative yet undeniably touching.
The Dark is Rising Sequence by Susan Cooper
I've recently reread the series, and was mildly disappointed, but the second book, The Dark is Rising, still kicks ass.
The Chrestomanci Series by Dianna Wynne Jones
Dianna Wynne Jones is seriously undervalued as a writer; she's funny, talented, and wildly creative, and she came up with a series of novels of kid-wizards at a wizards' training school 25 years before you-know-who.
The Earthsea Cycle by Ursula K. Le Guin
The novels have grown smaller and slightly darker in scope, and are more human and less fantastic than the original trilogy I read as a child. The last two books are all growed-up, but does that mean I have to like them more? I don't.
His Dark Materials by Philip Pullman
If it weren't for the sheer imagination and exuberance of the first two books, which I loved, I wouldn't even have this series listed, because I hated the concluding volume The Amber Spyglass so much.
Sabriel, Lirael, Abhorsen by Garth Nix
A more recent series of complexly plotted fantasy novels with a World War I vibe that I thought were very good, especially the characterization of the Disreputable Dog.
A Song of Ice and Fire by George R.R. Martin
I normally stay away fron big, fat, metallic-foil covered paperback high-fantasy blockbusters of the Robert Jordan variety, but I have to admit, the first three books of the saga (another three or four are to come) were compulsively readable, with plenty of colorful, scheming characters, perverse plot twists, and gory battles involving the living dead.
The Harry Potter Juggernaut by J.K. Rowling
I almost didn't put these in, because I think there are so many other better fantasy novels and I'm so sick of the whole Potter media empire, but who am I kidding, I'm just as addicted as the nine-year-old next door.
Posted by oko at 02:42 PM | Comments (0)
December 12, 2004
Pattern Recognition follows recognizable patterns
I stayed up way too late to finish reading William Gibson's Pattern Recognition, finally out in paperback, and now I wonder why. The book's standard thriller plot goes down easy, but there isn't any payoff, and the novel, hailed as bleeding-edge cool, seems already oddly dated.
The novel's hero, Cayce Pollard, is a "coolhunter," hired by ad agencies around the world to spot the newest trends that can be marketed to the masses. Cayce is so uber-sensitive to logos that seeing the Michelin Man makes her physically ill, and she has to have the logos sanded off the metal buttons of her Levis before she wears them (yes, she's crazy sensitive).
The melancholy and lonely Cayce, still dealing with her father's death during the events of 9/11, is hired to discover the truth behind some mysterious footage of a possible film in progress that's appearing on the web. Spy-thrillerey then ensues, with the world of cutting-edge advertising being the new gear in the standard espionage machine involving the NSA, CIA, and, why the hell not, some ex-KGB, for good measure.
The book's from 2003, and maybe that's why everything that's supposed to be new just seems old-hat to me - the film footage has a Ringu vibe - most people who watch it get addicted - you've got people collecting old computers as technological art objects, hipsters being hired to spread meme-type advertising, there's all this boring stuff on Cayce's Pilates routines, and, oh yeah, the Russian mafia's involved, too. For a book that's so focused on the next big thing, it's a couple of beats behind, and I wonder how it will read another few years down the road.
Anyway, after a lot of first-class globe trotting (Cayce has a generous expense account) and a bunch of state-of-the-art (circa late 2002) high-tech toys and computer cryptography, the maker of the footage is eventually found. I won't reveal the ending, but it's not much of a payoff. And, though everything isn't tied up neatly (after all, this is a serious novel, not just some dumb spy thriller) lonely Cayce meets a man and some, but not all, of her psychic wounds are healed.
Posted by oko at 08:19 PM | Comments (0)
December 11, 2004
Pippin my puppy kitten
Second in my scintillating series of animal vignettes, including the arcane rituals of dog worship. Read on if you dare.
Pippin is my seven-month-old white oriental shorthair kitten. He is huge cat, a real bruiser, already bigger than my other adult cats. He has large pink ears and enormous eyes, one of which is blue, one of which is green. He happens to be Blue's brother, but he looks like a giant white lamb next to a skinny blue rat when they're together. I got Pippin first, but he was such a handful that I knew I needed another kitten to keep him busy, which is why Blue entered the fold two months later. Pip rarely meows, which is odd considering he's an oriental breed, famed for its talkativeness. Sometimes he makes a meow like he has laryngitis, but compared to his brother, he's very quiet.
Pippin is a fetch monster; he will fetch anything, from toys to socks, and bring them to you over and over again, or lay them in your bed if you're sleeping. He's especially fond of those little fur-covered mice you can get at pet stores. He likes to chew off their tails, but once that's been taken care of, he'll bring one to you, lay it at your feet, or on your empty shoe, and wait patiently for you to throw it for him. Sometimes he puts them in his food bowl, sometimes in his water dish; I guess it depends on his mood - does the mouse eat and live another day, or does it deserve death by drowning?
An avid dog worshipper, Pip makes figure eights around my dog's legs and jumps up to try to hold his head with his paws. He also enjoys having large amounts of dog saliva drooled upon his head and body. Following the way of the dog, he prefers sitting at, or across your feet, just like a good doggie should. I've also managed to teach him to come when called, and he has a fairly reliable "sit," as long as a dollop of baby food is involved.
Here's a picture when he was three months old. He's almost grown into his ears since then.
Posted by oko at 06:50 PM | Comments (0)
Blue, you're my boy!
OK, OK, so I'm going to do the standard boring blog entry about one (don't ask) of my pets, but at least you get an Old School reference to help you deal with your pain and disappointment. (Anyway, you know you want it, so shut up already.)
Blue is my seven-month-old gray (known in the animal world as blue) oriental shorthair kitten. He slinks around the house like a wasted, anorexic rock star, waiting for his next fix. Open the fridge, and from rooms away, there he is, loudly demanding that small town taste. Meat is heroin to him. He will bite at your fingers with his sharp, white teeth for an atomic-sized sliver of chicken, all while yowling at the top of his arena-filling lungs.
Here's a photo taken a few months ago at his breeder's house. (He doesn't really look like a rhesus monkey, well, maybe a little, but only in the same way that rock star royalty like Steve Tyler or Mick Jagger do.) The breeder fed him raw elk meat, which started him on his meat-junky ways, just like Ted Nugent. (From my bored, dispassionate tone, perhaps you can't tell that I weally wuv my widdle addict. Awwwww....)
Posted by oko at 01:31 AM | Comments (0)
December 10, 2004
Separated at birth?
I just saw the trailer for the upcoming Tim Burton version of the head trip for aging drug users that is Charlie and the Chocolate Factory. Johnny Depp is playing Willy Wonka, the role pioneered by scary, googly-eyed, white-man 'froed Gene Wilder. (Who's more terrifying - Robert Helpmann as the child-sniffer in Chitty Chitty Bang Bang or Wilder as Wonka? Discuss amongst yourselves.) Anyway, after using Keith Richards as his inspiration for Pirates of the Caribbean, Depp appears to channel yet another fashion icon for Wonka. With his black bob, red lipstick, and outsize sunglasses, Depp looks uncannily like Anna Wintour, the pencil-thin editor of Vogue, who is going blonde with age. But perhaps Depp is slightly prettier? (Go to Gawker to see the amazing resemblance.)
Also, what is up with Depp and his obsession with funky fake teeth? I get the gold teeth as Captain Jack Sparrow, the missing front teeth for Ed Wood, but why the odd dentures for Wonka?
Posted by oko at 10:38 PM | Comments (0)
The voice of God is cast
Brian Cox has been cast as the voice of Aslan the lion in the upcoming film production of the Chronicles of Narnia, according to Rotten Tomatoes. (Aslan is the animal version of (spoiler alert) Jesus Christ in C.S. Lewis's classic series of children's fantasy books.)
I'm actually a fan of Brian Cox and his performances are normally a high point of most of the films he's in: he was fantastic as the pedophile in L.I.E. and I think his Hannibal Lecter in Manhunter is better than Anthony Hopkins's. OK, sometimes he sucks - his Agamemnon in Troy was pretty hammy and the less said about Super Troopers the better. Still, in just about every movie I've seen him in, he's a bad guy - from Rob Roy to X-Men 2 to The Bourne Supremacy - and evil in some weird strange sicko way that makes him slightly uncomfortable to watch. To me, his voice is pretty distinctive, though he uses an American accent a lot, and I'm wondering whether it's going to be distracting hearing that voice ask young boys and girls to romp with him, kiss him, and stroke his mane.
So who'd be my pick for a talking lion that dies and comes back to life? Off the top of my head, I'd say Alan Rickman, but to be honest, I'd prefer someone I didn't recognize at all.
Posted by oko at 05:36 AM | Comments (0)
