WALL•E Question for the Kids

If you know a child who saw WALL•E this past weekend, ask them the following question and watch their heads spin around:

Since we know Eve sees in black and white, courtesy of the POV of her security camera, how did she solve the Rubik's Cube?

It could be I missed something. Maybe it was because I was dabbing my eyes with my shirt sleeves and choking back sobs at what was, in my opinion, the best love story of 2008.
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Spot the Fake WALL•E and Winehouse

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Nominee #1 for Favorite Supporting Character in a Horror Movie, 2008

I loves me an Amish man and he's not Harrison Ford in Witness.

The first half of George Romero's Diary of the Dead rocked my little world, but the whole movie really picked up steam when a character named Samuel made his first appearance.

If you haven't seen it--and why the hell haven't you?--Samuel is a farmer caught up in a zombie uprising in Pennsylvania.

You'd think his character description would end there--since he appears in the movie less than five minutes--but he's so much more.

He's also a deaf/mute Amish man who communicates with a chalkboard and tosses sticks of dynamite with amazing accuracy. He can take out three of the walking dead in a single throw.

Samuel is my first nominee of the year for favorite supporting character in a horror movie. Watch it and just see if you don't fall in love, too.

This is now my BlockBerry's wallpaper, as it should be yours

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Stan Winston and George Carlin

Stan Winston, special effects wizard, died last week at the age of 62.

All through junior high I grew up wanting to be Tom Savini or Rick Baker. I was way into movie FX, and those guys were like rock stars to me. By college I turned my ambitions elsewhere, but I never forgot the hard work done by the creative guys hunched under false floors working the pneumatic pumps. Their skills and vision determined whether an audience could suspend their disbelief for a few hours and buy into the movie's premise.

Stan Winston's genius helped many directors sell their stories. The effects he cooked up using latex, exploding blood-filled condoms, and plaster casts are forever burned into my imagination. To this day I can't look at an X-Acto knife without thinking of Schwarzenegger carving out his own eye. That was all Stan.

Winston's work was iconic. An entire generation of artists and model makers now casually swipe his badass T-Rex and raptor designs in Jurassic Park,* although he is rarely credited. He took H.R. Giger's original alien design and amped it up with his own take on the queen in Aliens, and that, too, has been copied by others. Just watch any movie made for the Sci Fi Channel.

In an age of relentless digital visual effects manufactured by faceless teams of bleary-eyed geeks hunched over keyboards, Winston was the last true FX rock star. Movies won't be the same without him.

As a teen I bought George Carlin albums without my parents' approval--which George would have approved of and, likely, counted on. His comedy taught me to think and question authority.

In recent years I stopped laughing at his bits and started nodding because he made sense. How do you not like a guy ranting about how yuppie baby boomers ruined everything? Unless you are a yuppie baby boomer...in which case, fuck you for your unnecessary, blaring car alarms; for ruining the great rock anthems of my childhood by using them to sell sports cars; and for drowning America in a torrent of PC euphemisms that stifle simple and direct expression.**

You might not believe Carlin's assertion that "the Earth has been around for billions of years and will be just fine no matter what we do to it" (paraphrasing here), but the man posed compelling arguments that could make the most hardcore environmentalist feel silly about their position.

He died yesterday at 71. And just like the baseball players he made fun of in one of his best bits, he's going home.

* Here's proof: picture a velociraptor in your mind. If you imagined a six-foot-tall walking nightmare with gnashing teeth, you bought into Winston's exaggerated vision: actual raptors were less than two feet tall. He sold you a deinonychus under a different name and you didn't realize it. You, too, have been influenced by the great Stan Winston.

** I'm paraphrasing Carlin here, and not very well. But seriously, boomers, George was right about your generation.
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Banned from Panera

As if I'm not having a hard enough time this month, I see that Jennifer Aniston and John Mayer--universally acknowledged tool-- have now jetted off to Mexico together.

What's with Jen? How can one woman be so wildly inconsistent in her dating patterns? She seemed to be on track with Brad--but remember the guy from Counting Crows? That guy looked like a pale, Rastafarian billy goat, and though his stock has dropped to the point where they probably play summer block parties, he's still a better catch than John freakin' Mayer! Then last week they hit the town with Courteney Cox and her simpleton husband, which sounds like the pilot episode of Dinner for Five if E! produced it.

I've sunk to celebrity gossip. I think I'm going insane.

This is Day 12 of a quest that ended before it really began. Things have gotten worse for your ol' pal Rider.

I was in the Panera that has become my watering hole/feeding ground for the last six days or so, but today things felt...different.

"Marcee," the cashier I've come to smile at on my way to the lemon wedge bucket and fountain drinks, took one look at the empty cup in my hand and hurriedly ducked back into the kitchen.

My spider sense went off. I turned and headed for the door, but then spotted a sheet of paper next to her register. It had my picture on it.

Now I'm here in an Apple Store in the middle of nowhere, scanning in this memo for your perusal, and feeling my little world crumbling even more.

First Aniston dating Mayer, now this. What next?

Rider Cries During The Incredible Hulk

I cried like a little girl while watching The Incredible Hulk today. It was like Terms of Endearment for nomadic drifters on lonely, personal quests. I told Boxter it was allergies.

Yes, I liked it more than Ang Lee's take on the comic book, with his endless, lingering shots of shrubberies and fungus. Exactly what the fanboys waited years for, huh?

The French Transporter dude knows his way around an action scene. I was only briefly consumed by the thought of how often his cameramen had to film nothing in front of them during any given CG battle. I pictured guys looking like Phillip Seymour Hoffman in Boogie Nights dashing around the set with day-glo green tennis balls on long sticks as Louis Leterrier shouted, "Fast-air! Fast-air! Zee Hulk ees queek-air zan zat!"

More often, though, I was distracted by Liv Tyler's ginormous upper lip. It was always filmed in profile for maximum freakish effect. Most directors know the best angle to shoot their female lead. Not this guy.

Best actual line from the movie: "I'm...hungry. You wouldn't like me when I'm hungry."

Fun fact: I saw this movie for free. I'm not saying whether I downloaded a copy from a file-sharing service here in the home office department of this unfinished Super Target, or whether I had an AMC gift certificate. Go with whichever makes me sound cooler. Factor in how I cried.
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Rider Holes Up at Target (Again)

I usually feel better after a good meal, but tonight's fare didn't shake me out of my doldrums. It didn't help that the shift manager noticed I had come in with a nasty used cup and made me spend another $1.49 plus tax on a new one.

Side note: if you go to Panera for a coffee, save yourself 20 cents and ask for a regular Dr Pepper. Same cup, lower price. You do that 21 times and you've socked away enough for a gallon of gas.

I'm down to my last three bucks. I started my journey with less than eleven. That ain't bad for a week and a half of travel with a hungry dog.

The one bright note since yesterday's post came when I walked across the parking lot (here in Central Mordor) and saw the following.


Even better, the local paper says work has slowed down on this store's construction because management hasn't hired enough employees yet. So part of the store is stocked, and the rest can't be assembled for several days.

Tonight I discovered a rear dock door was left unlatched. The security system hasn't been activated. Boxter and I went in.

There's a movie or two I've been wanting to see, and plenty of DVD displays aching to play them...but I'm just so tired. I stumbled across this awesome outdoor tent display, and it looks so comfortable.

Boxter is going to explore the aisles with his digital camera. I'm going to curl up with my BlockBerry and get some sleep. I'll publish this post in the morning, hopefully feeling a little better.

Updated: I woke up feeling worse, especially after reading this headline: "Eva Longoria is still not pregnant."

Damn it. What does that poor woman have to do...?
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BaconQuest Ends

I was checking my BlockBerry's mobile version of Google Reader, and I see that Fernando has inexplicably turned up at the International House of Blogcakes.

I wept as I read the post--but not because McGone's pink, pantsless pal is alive and well.*

I'm sobbing because I'm here in my seventh or eighth Panera in less than a week and I'm 100 miles from the Block without a quest.

Where are all the windmills for me to tilt at?

Where do I find the next Emerald City at the far end of a killer poppy field to make me a whole person?

Where do I find a crystal skull for me to--er, ah...what exactly was Jones trying to do with that damn thing again?

I am a knight without a quest. The search for my friend's kidnapped hog is over before I could help. I don't know what my next move should be or where I should go.

Only one thing's for sure.

I'm not going anywhere near the east coast now that 26% of New Yorkers have genital herpes. What is that shit--airborne?

* No, I'm not talking about Slinger, although he has returned to blogging...most likely without pants.
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Texted Movie Reviews: Zohan

Texted Movie Reviews™ is a new feature wherein Rider posts unedited SMS messages he received on his BlockBerry from friends or family members about current movies.

The following is Eriq E.'s review of You Don't Mess with the Zohan.

Message #1:

Ok so I know you prob already know this but I saw zohan last night and it has got to be by far the worst movie of the year so far-garbage

Message #2:

One of the worst movies I have ever seen in a theater-can't wait for hulk tho-what u been up to

Day 5 of BaconQuest - Boxter and I stopped in at an Apple Store to whip up this map to show our cross-country trek toward Portland*, measured in the number of Targets and Paneras we ate free lemons in and/or sink-bathed in.


* Also to check out Engadget's live coverage of the new iPhone announcement.

Choking the Aiken

Boxter and I are perusing the aisles here in the latest Target/bed & breakfast on our journey to rescue Fernando, and I had to post this picture from last week's issue of Newsweek.

I want to shake the hand of the editor who chose this image of "Clayken"--as I call this celeb non-entity--for an article about how he impregnated a 50-year-old friend by means of artificial insemination.

I laughed out loud at the genius of it all, but it was only to mask the agonizing pain of knowing Clayken's pale progeny will live on and make the future a dull place.
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Cup 'o Joe to Go

Borrowing an idea from the Frank Whaley cinematic masterpiece Career Opportunities, Boxter and I secretly slept in a display pup tent in a Super Target last night. Jennifer Connelly was nowhere to be found, nor did we foil any looters.

We headed across the parking lot to the nearest Panera for more free coffee and lemon slices. (Targets and Paneras go together like Lindsay Lohan and freckles.

To address MJenks' comment in the previous post, here's my ranking of coffee from best to worst:

1. Dunkin Donuts
2. Home-brewed Eight O'Clock brand
3. Panera
4. Muddy ditch water
5. McDonald's Premium

Soon to be addressed: where my Blogger hoodie came from.

Back to the Long Walk (anyone out there read the Richard Bachman story?)

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BaconQuest Resumes

My handset is now fully charged and the ominous heat lightning has stopped, so Boxter and I have resumed our cross-country search for McGone's missing friend Fernando.

We wandered into a Target in the next town to use the facilities, and I thought I'd found him on one of the shelves.

This pig was made of porcelain, not molded plastic, and he gave no indication of possessing witty thoughts or dry sarcasm. Boxter didn't react to this scent, so we moved on.

We then entered a nearby Panera. The manager claimed Boxter couldn't come in due to health concerns. I pointed out that his health is immaculate. When she insisted, I claimed I was legally blind and Boxter was my "sight partner."

After I tethered him outside, I went back in for a bite to eat. Recently on Valerie's blog, some jerk took a shot at me, saying I didn't have enough money to eat in Panera.

He was right. I would have spent all my cash on soup and half a sandwich.

But did you know you can drink all you want at Panera if you keep your cup? I'm bringing mine with me.

I also cleaned out their bucket of lemon slices.


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Home Again, Home Again

Boxter and I had begun our search for Fernando, and even made it a few miles down the road, but then had to turn back. I forgot the travel adapter for my mobile handset.

Also the heat lightning last night made me think I was walking into a Jerry Bruckheimer movie. I got scared.

I'll try again in the morning.

Unless it storms.

Swine Flew

If you've been checking out McGone's blog lately, you know his porcine partner Fernando was abducted by the Pork Liberation Front last week. They are demanding $1 million dollars for his safe return.

Now, I've never met Fernando. I wouldn't know him from that floating pig above Pink Floyd concerts. He seems like a well-rounded chap, and for a hooved animal he's a good writer. But I wouldn't go out of my way to fill his slop bucket.

Yet...I'm about to embark on my own search for Fernando. I'm bringing my blog mascot Boxter with me.


Why, you ask? Why go out of my way to rescue a tiny pig I've never met from the clutches of another tiny pig? Three reasons: I'm unemployed with nothing better to do, the TV season is over, and I need to clear my name.

It seems my "good friend" McGone thinks I may be responsible for his pink pal's abduction. I can't have that hanging over my wooden head.

I've got a CrackBerry for mobile blogging purposes, and $10.78 in my pocket. That and my street smarts will be plenty to get us to Oregon, which is where the PLF seems to be headquartered.

Boxter has acquired the scent. I'll write more from the road.

Stay strong, Fernando. We're on our way.

And maybe, just maybe, we'll learn something about ourselves.

Hopefully I'll be back in time for the fall TV season.

Dear Joss Whedon

Please return to Astonishing X-Men. Sooner than later. You frickin' nailed it. I can't remember the last time I loved Kitty Pryde so much.