The Dreaded Re-run

The year is more than half over and I'm trying to adjust to my new work schedule, so I thought it would be a good time to look back at the predictions I made at the beginning of the year to see how I was doing. Just so you know, Ocean's 13 is in pre-production and a shark kind of flies in that stupid Uma Thurman super ex-girlfriend movie. The Cubs...well that's another story. Oh, and in my humble opinion, I think if you missed the last GIK post you missed a pretty good one, so check it out.

2006: Year of the Grieco
When I arrived in my hometown of Dallas for Christmas I realized that I hadn’t gotten enough presents for my friends and family. In a last minute effort to rectify the situation I drove my sweet-ass Hyundai to what I’m fairly sure is the largest Tom Thumb in the world. After grabbing various gift cards, several “holiday” bags of Cheetohs, and a nutcracker that does the running man I headed to the checkout line. While the woman in front of me complained about how she just couldn’t find Steak-ums anymore, I perused the tabloids as I am wont to do. All of the best ones (those in black & white) were offering their predictions for the coming year. There are too many forecasts to cover, but let’s just say you, me, and the world’s fattest baby are in for some serious stuff in ’06.

Reading these predictions made me realize that for too long I have neglected the one-hour training I received from some guy in Louisiana when I got my telephone psychic job. I decided to give my powers of prognostication a workout and to do my best to make the actress who played Miss Cleo proud. Wait. Kids, I’m only joking. There really is a Miss Cleo, and on one special night each year she dresses up in a quasi-Jamaican accent and tells all the good boys and girls who have lovers in prison, a fear of dying alone, or an unquenchable thirst for Pop-Tarts and Robitussin exactly what they need to do to make everything OK. Whew! That was close. I would never forgive myself if I ruined things for the little ones. Anyway, without further Grieco, here are my predictions for the New Year.

1. It will finally be revealed that Sarah Jessica Parker is actually that nerdy dude who plays Mitch in Real Genius.

2. My prayers will be answered and Colin Farrell, Russell Crowe, and Eva Longoria will be sucked into a worm hole and deposited on a planet where drunken louts, overrated boorish Aussies, and photo-op whores are forced to work as production assistants on a straight-to-video re-imagining of Godspell.

3. In fulfillment of Prophecy, Grieco’s post-apocalyptic wasteland zombie picture, Raiders of the Damned, will shock the world and break all previous opening weekend box office records.

4. Dako Fa-Fa will raise an army of super-intelligent spider monkeys bent on world domination. She’ll also take on the role of a 12 year-old Eleanor Roosevelt in a life-spanning biopic that will also star Charlize Theron and Shirley MacLaine. All three women will be simply delightful in the film.

5. Sharks will take to the sky.

6. The Cruise-Holmes baby will be born and it’s ability to manipulate both time and space will make us all feel bad for doubting Scientology luminaries like Vinnie Barbarino, Lt. Pete “Maverick” Mitchell, and that chick who played Dharma.

7. Ocean’s 13 will go into production, but the level of self-satisfaction and masturbatory filmmaking involved will actually cause Soderbergh and the entire cast (except Don Cheadle) to explode in a brilliant display over Clooney’s Lake Como villa.

8. The Chicago Cubs will win the World Series.

9. Special Agent Dale Cooper will get out of the Black Lodge

10. You, gentle reader, will pass this post onto ten of your friends, thus keeping the chain alive. After all, Chet Dinkins of Missouri failed to pass this post on in the allotted time and three days later he found himself working in a call center selling radio ads disguised as PSAs to people who despised him from the moment they heard his voice, while the middle-aged women in the ½-cubicles next to him showed each other the shirts they had made with iron-on pictures of their cats and the guy across the aisle talked about how the community bathroom in the men’s boarding house he lived in was a great place to practice his singing even though it reeked of month-old urine. OK, that was totally me. I had that job in Chicago. There is no Chet Dinkins. But still, if you could pass this on to even like one or two people it would totally help me out, because Burning Man is coming up and I really need something nice to wear.

Thank Grieco It's Friday

So, I’ve returned to the regular workforce. It was a sad day, but my current situation has driven me to leave the house and join the rest of the world in long commutes and fluorescent lighting. Truth be told, it’s a pretty cool job, and very soon it will be a part-time gig, so I’ll still get to spend a few days a week working in my robe. But it took me only two full days in the office to remember how tired the whole real job thing makes me. By the time 11:00 rolled around on Friday night I was exhausted. I took the opportunity to sip on some magic juice, recline on the couch, and settle in for a weekend fit for a fifty year-old. Then, something beautiful happened. As I scanned through various channels, I came upon the Lifetime Movie Network, and I (along with the lovely Sherpa) was able to catch the last half-hour of a Grieco piece I didn’t even know existed.

It was Him or Us
We were thrust right into the action. A sweaty, semi-bloated Grieco is holding his ex-girlfriend and her parents (the mom is played by Anne Jillian) hostage at gunpoint. As he swigs from a non-descript bottle of booze and sniffs continually as though he’s just dying for some coke, Grieco alternates between moments of quiet rage and moments of yelling rage. Seriously, the switch between the two happens on like every line, so Grieco looks kind of like a maniac and kind of like he was giving the director two different takes on the character to choose from, but the director just decided to combine them. As Grieco berates his ex for cheating on him or pretending to cheat on him (it got a little confusing), he wears his sleeveless vest thing with pride and sports eyebrows that are clearly not of this world. Amidst the profuse sweating and stumbling around the house for no apparent reason, Grieco shouts lines like “I’m not stupid!” and “I’m not dense!” with the force of fallen star. As subtlety gets murdered inside the home, the police negotiator tries to talk Grieco down from the outside. (note: one of the cops or something is played by Will Wheaton. The unstoppable Grieco/Wheaton combination would resurface later in a little film I like to call Book of Days.) Anyway, the negotiator brings Grieco’s mom in to try and talk him down, and this makes Grieco start saying all of his lines like a little kid. It’s fucking awesome. OK, so Grieco drops the ex’s dad by whacking him over the head with a rifle, thus raising the stakes and making it imperative for the family to escape and take the old man to the hospital. While the ex-girlfriend distracts Grieco, Ann Jillian climbs through a hole in the basement ceiling, fights through some serious editing problems, gets out of the house, sneaks back into the room where she keeps her .22, and moves in on Grieco who is yelling to the ex, “Our love can’t survive this universe. We’ll be together in another universe!” Ann Jillian then has a sweet slow-mo entrance, and as Grieco turns to see her, she kills him, because…you know…it was him or us.

I can only assume that Acts I and II of this picture are as totally Grieco as Act III. I know I mentioned the man’s eyebrows already, but they’re really doing the work up there, and one of Ann Jillian’s kids who escapes to the outside before the shit goes down is played by little Virgin Camden from “7^th Heaven” sporting a wicked mullet. As you know, if Grieco appears in a film it automatically gets an extra 1 ½-Griecos. Now, I don’t feel right judging the entire movie, not having seen how Grieco came to have a rifle, a pistol he holds sideways, and a few hostages, but I do feel comfortable giving the final 30 minutes of It was Him or Us 4-Griecos (see ratings).

Next Friday, if work has beat you down, flip on the old Lifetime Movie Network, you might just be pleasantly surprised. I mean, y’all need to learn more about a woman who was lured into having an affair by a charming older man only to find out that he was married and secretly hated retarded children, so to get even she took up a post as a crossing guard at the school where his daughter went and tempted the child with lollipops and moonbeams and then kidnapped her, demanding that her father publicly humiliate himself by stating in a court of law that he was both an adulterer and a hater of the mentally challenged, but in the end she learns that she doesn’t need to get even to be strong, she only needs herself… she only needs herself, y’all.

Happy ID4!

Dear World,

I hope everyone had a great holiday celebrating our victory over the invading aliens. Things looked bleak in those days of battle, but thanks to our former-war hero Amercian President, a hip street-smart scientist, a drunken lout, a fast-talikng pilot, a variety of stereotypes, and some really bad dialogue, victory was ours!

Let us not forget those who fell in this war against the aliens that kind of look like a hybrid of the alien from Alien and the Predator from Predator, but look nothing like the aliens from Alien vs. Predator (AVP if you're nasty). Yes, we lost many along the way: the gay Jewish man who seemed to encapsulate both of the those noble groups with his sheer subtlety; the pseudo-hippy-flower-child who welcomed the aliens (and starred in "Saved by the Bell: The College Years") only to be destroyed atop the Los Angeles skyline; and the First Lady, who before she died, passed on some comforting words to the lovely stripper who will make the aformentioned cocksure pilot a heck of a wife.

We must now remain focused on the goals ahead and guard ourselves against further attacks from these aliens in a sequel that I can't believe hasn't been made. Seriously, it seemed like a no-brainer, but I guess Hollywood was more concerned with chronicling Riddick and breaking back mountains. However, the threat of future alien attacks is always present, and therefore we must never drop our guard or take our liberty for granted, for if we do, the aliens have already won.

#5

Oh My Goth!

The Craft
I caught the last half of The Craft on TV last night. It’s a movie I’ve seen several times, but for some reason I haven’t yet given it it’s proper GIK due. For those of you who are unfamiliar with this piece of ‘90s history, it follows a coven of California teenage witches doing their best to set themselves apart from those damn preppies and to wear black stockings under black shorts with floor-length black cape/jackets and way too much makeup on their faces. Three of them have been doing pretty well achieving these tasks, but they don’t really get serious until our heroine Robin Tunney shows up. Turns out, her dead mama was a witch, and she’s got natural powers that go far beyond the crap the other girls learned from books. Seizing the opportunity, the leader of the Coven (the always slightly terrifying/somewhat more terrifying Fairuza Balk) brings Tunney into the circle and invokes some ancient Pagan god that Sherpa assures me is not found in any of the Wicca books she read while listening to the works of Robert Smith and Mr. Martin L. Gore in high school. Anyway, with the aid of this spirit, Fairuza becomes wicked powerful and wicked wicked, killing poor Skeet Ulrich along the way. In the end, Tunney must overcome her fears, accept her power as a witch, invoke the Spirit on her own, and take down Fairuza. She does, and all is happy again.

Now, I have enjoyed The Craft every time I’ve watched it. Most of all because it’s like a contest of bad acting. Seriously, someone will come on the screen, and the next person to enter seems to say, “Please. You thought that was bad. Watch this shit that I’m bringing to the table.” Everyone is so horrendous it’s hard to choose a winner. Neve Campbell (as one of the witches) has this scene where she keeps asking the Spirit (Maintenant, perhaps?) to “take my scars” over and over, and it’s just hilarious. Even the vaguely Portuguese woman who runs the candle/sacred feminine-laden magic shop is just simply awful in her two scenes. Seriously, people are so bad, that young Skeet comes off looking like a star even though he clearly sucks. In the end, though, the true contest appropriately boils down to protagonist and antagonist. The lockjaw-mumbling-I’m-not-gonna-look-at-anybody charm of Tunney vs. the I’ll-chew-up-this-freaking-couch-and-then-I’ll-rip-your-dick-off-with-my-eyes bravura display of Balk. It’s really hard to decide. We reached the point where we thought whichever one was speaking at the time was truly the worst. However, when all was said and done I had to give it to Balk, because her final freak-out in the mental institution kind of blows everything else away. Congrats Fairuza, you’re a champ. (note: This isn’t the first time Fairuza has played a witch. As a child, she appeared as the titular character in The Worst Witch alongside Tim Curry and TV’s Mrs. Garrett. JK Rowling clearly stole the plot of this film for her so-called “Harry Potter” series.)

I’m giving The Craft 3-Griecos (see ratings). It makes me happy, and I don’t know why, and that makes me even happier. I suggest watching it with a former Goth kid, so she can point out all of the inaccuracies when the girls “call the corners,” use their little knives, and do other stuff to make their daddies mad.

Ode to a Fallen Mustang

If you haven't already heard, Aaron Spelling died this week. Not only was Mr. Spelling a Dallas native and a fellow SMU Mustang, he was responsible for the majority of entertainment I have enjoyed in my life: "Charlie's Angels," "Dynasty," "Hart to Hart," "90210," and the greatest nightime soap of all time "Melrose Place" (you may remember that Melrose's Billy was an SMU grad on the show). Because of Mr. Spelling, the illustrious Kev and I had a chance to fly out to LA for free, stay in a ridiculous hotel, and meet the "Models Inc." girls at Universal Studios, and while he may not have been directly involved with "Saved by the Bell," you know he was partly responsible for bringing what is perhaps the most important pop culture mainstay of mine (and Kev's) life to TV. I'm not very good at sounding serious, so I'll let two people who actually knew the man sum it up:

"'He was undoubtedly the greatest producer of popular television during the 1970s, 1980s and 1990s," Joan Collins, who starred in the producer's hit "Dynasty," said Monday. "'I shall always be grateful to him for insisting I play the role of Alexis Carrington on `Dynasty.'"

Heather Locklear, star of Spelling's "Melrose Place," said Monday she was sad to hear of Spelling's death, adding: "'He called me his lucky penny (because Spelling shows she was in were hits) but I am the lucky one because he graced me with his encouragement and talent.'"
(From Forbes.com)

In honor of Aaron Spelling, I suggest that you all scan the Soap Network and catch a rerun of "Melrose," or relive the beauty that is Brenda and Dylan. If not, go rent "T.J. Hooker." It'll blow your mind.

RIP

Buena Park

There reached a point when I was living in Chicago when everyday became pretty much exactly the same as the one before. I was unemployed at the time, and it wasn’t one of those I’m-really-excitied-and-optimistic-about-the-prospect-of-finding-a-new-job kinds of unemployment. It was more like an I-can’t-believe-I-couldn’t-get-a-job-working-the-front-counter-at-a-fucking-cleaners kind of unemployment. If you’ve never been there, I’ll try to illuminate the situation. You reach the point where you get beaten down so much that you basically give up and you start to revel in the unemployed lifestyle. Sure, you’re totally broke and a little bit suicidal, but you know that regardless of what happens during the day, you don’t have to do a damn thing, and that’s comforting. Anyway, my days during this period (and this was a very long period) began at around 4:00 or 5:00 in the afternoon. I had started going to bed at 9:00 AM, so things got turned around pretty quickly. I would start the day by looking through the “help wanted” sections of the papers and circling jobs that I had absolutely no intention of following up on. Then my mom would call, and I’d tell her I had some good prospects. Then, if it wasn’t too late I’d try to catch the last couple of innings of the Cubs day game. A couple days of the week, my friends would stop by to make sure I hadn’t gone completely insane, but you know they had to work and be a part of humanity and stuff, so there were many nights I didn’t see anyone. I’d head out on my nightly quest for pizza (sweet Bojonno’s) and porn. Yep, ‘cause no matter how broke you are, you can always dig up money for a slice and some porn. Well, one of these nights as I walked home with pizza in my hand and adult entertainment shamefully hidden in my backpack, I was stopped when I got to my street. One look at the guy’s neck and his white polo-style shirt told me he was a security guard. At first, I thought they had outlawed porn and they’d finally caught up with me. Pissed that I would be going to jail and that I would never know how the intriguing “H.R. Muff n’ Stuff” series would turn out, I thought about making a run for it. Then, I pulled myself together and remembered that security guards can’t arrest you for porn. Except perhaps in Arkansas. God, I hate that state.

“Where you goin’?” The security guard asked.
“Home,” I said.
“Where’s that?”

I pointed to my sweet pad down the street, and he nodded as if to give me permission to continue walking. He then proceeded to follow me to the door of my apartment building. As I walked, I noticed trucks filled with lights, dudes running chords everywhere, and a crafts service station. Then I remembered, they were filming Dragonfly on my block and sweet Kevy Costner was only a few doors away.

Dragonfly
Dragonfly starts out with a heavy Mothman feel. Costner’s pregnant wife dies while trying to bring some much needed doctorin’ to the needy and the indigenous tribes of somewhere in South America, and her body is never found. Costner, a doctor too, starts receiving messages from beyond via his wife’s former-children-cancer-patients-who-have-had-near-death- experiences. These spunky dying little ones, it seems, cross over on a regular basis, and when they return from the Other Side to their beds in a made up Chicago hospital they start drawing strange pictures (sadly not of a mothman) and telling Costner that his wife needs to speak to him. Meanwhile, Costner starts losing his mind back in my old neighborhood. Kathy Bates (go SMU Mustangs!) tries to help him with her wisdom and bizarre haircut, but nothing seems to work. Not even the parrot he lives with can help him out. Some creepy stuff kind of happens, but it’s never really creepy enough. Eventually, Costner meets up with a nun who knows what’s what. The nun is played by the incomparable Linda Hunt, whom you may remember as Ilsa Grunt in a picture I like to call If Looks Could Kill starring Richard effing Grieco. Anyway, eventually with the help of the nun and some of his rafting buddies, Costner tracks down the place where his wife died, and a spirit-vision he has as he’s drowning leads him to the the village of an ancient tribe where he finds….wait for it…his daughter. Yep, the tribe saved the unborn baby from its mother’s womb and raised it until her dead spirit could lead Costner back to it. Just take a second for that to sink in. OK. Got it? You know, I should’ve seen it coming, but I told by myself no way are they going to trot the freaking baby out. Maybe his wife’s body, or some dragonfly bullshit, because his wife had a dragonfly-shaped birthmark don't you know, but the baby? Please. I can’t even---goddamnit how does this crap get made?!

Sorry. While Dragonfly does have the gaping plot holes of The Mothman Prophecies, it lacks Indrid Cold, and without Indrid what’s the point? Oh, and it’s not scary at all, unless you’re kind of freaked out by parrots, which I kind of am because, you know, they can talk. Anyway, I’m giving it 2-Griecos (see ratings). The ending is so ridiculous it almost makes the movie worth watching, but unfortunately Costner’s not as bas as he usually is (of course he’s not good either), so it’s kind of disappointing. Ultimately, I'm giving the movie an extra 1/2-Grieco because it made me miss Chicago’s Buena Park neighborhood, and I didn’t think anything could ever do that. Go Cubs, and give my love to the lady who smells of piss and wears black lipstick all over her face.

The Funniest Movie Ever Made

It’s not often that I go to a theater and laugh my ass off for almost the entire length of the movie. Even some of the best comedies struggle at times. However, this weekend I got a chance to see what I believe might be the funniest film ever.

Tokyo Drift
Your refusal to drift disgusts me. Yeah, that’s right. I’m talking to you. You’re out on the road driving mommy’s precious car, and you’re not even thinking about drifting. You’re a fucking coward.

Open on Lucas Black of Friday Night Lights/Sling Blade/Fight the Future fame. He’s an outcast; A poor kid in a rich kid’s world. Only way to handle it is to drag race against the kid who played the oldest son on that Tim Allen show whose title eludes me for some reason. Oh that’s right, ‘cause it totally sucked ball. Anyway, Lucas is racing against this once and future douchebag for a date with the bag’s girl. Seriously, after some talk about racing for “pinks,” the girl says “why don’t you race for me?” After some cars are totaled and this house that’s under construction gets destroyed, Lucas gets shipped off to Tokyo to stay with his estranged Navy officer dad. Within one day of being in Tokyo, Lucas meets Bow-Wow (no longer so l'il), a hot chick of questionable ethnic lineage, and a detached Japanese/American mentor who gives Lucas his prized car to race against the nephew of famed Yakuza boss. The problem is, Lucas can’t drift, and apparently if you can’t drift in Japan you’re screwed, because all of the roads are just crazy. After Lucas destroys the mentor’s car, the mentor takes the young yank under his wing and teaches him how to drift, and more importantly, how to live…man. Anyway, turns out the hot vaguely Hispanic/Australian girl is the girlfriend of the Yakuza nephew, and when Lucas tries to make his move, all hell breaks loose. Eventually, the mentor, who is screwing the Yakuza over, gets killed by the nephew in a twenty-minute down and dirty drift-fest/chase/explosion. It’s pretty awesome. Then, the nephew comes after little Lucas, but to settle things and to avoid the mistakes of his father, Lucas faces his problems and, meets with the Yakuza boss, and asks the old man to sanction a race that will send the loser (either Lucas or the nephew) away from Tokyo forever. Impressed by the white kid’s moxie, the Yakuza boss agrees. Lucas borrows a car that his dad was working on, you know an old beat up model that had “potential,” tricks it out with some fine product placement parts, and prepares to race on a mountainside that requires insane drifting skills. However, like the K-12 in Better Off Dead, only one man has ever successfully drifted the mountain. Yep, the nephew. Well, another bold race ensues, the nephew survives a horrific tumbling off of the mountainside, and Lucas drifts to victory becoming the new drift hero of Tokyo and reconnecting with his dad in the process. Then, as he lords over the underground drift scene he is challenged to a race by Vin Diesel, making a strained and awkward cameo. Credits.

What can I say? I loved this picture. I didn’t even hit on the fact that Lucas, for some reason, goes to a high school where only Japanese is spoken by the teachers even though he doesn’t speak Japanese and there are like fifty American schools in Tokyo, or any of the dance party-intercut-with-drifting montages.

Tokyo Drift has the worst dialogue I have ever heard. Now, I know I’m a lover of hyperbole, but I have gone over all of the shitty movies (yes, even the ones on SciFi) that I've watched, and I can’t think of one that has worse dialogue. Like every other line is “there’s an old Japanese saying…” You will laugh out loud many times simply when these kids open their mouths. My only problem with the movie is that there isn’t enough racing. Act II devolves into this terrible love story, which is hilarious, and there’s a sexy night-drifting scene, but come on. I want to see Japanese hipsters racing and doing insane drifting donuts around some sort of sentient robot billboard that simultaneously sells cola and panties. Is that too much to ask? I suppose so. Despite my need for more, Tokyo Drift delivered, and I want everybody to see it. I’m giving it 3 ¼-Griecos (see ratings). It’s a bold new rating for a bold new picture. I would’ve given it 3 ½, but there’s an implied rape scene, and while that’s not as bad as a gratuitous rape scene, it’s still king of gratuitous. But it doesn’t alter my opinion that this is probably the most important film of the summer.

DTLMF!

(note: poor Obidiah got dragged to this movie by TGOGS and me and had a very different opinion. I eagerly await her response.)

A Sexy New Grieco

I'm back, y'all. There was a time when I cared about telling the public about the works of Grieco and other films that almost defy description. Well, that time is here again. No longer will the people waste away in the darkness as films such as Raptor Island and Schindler's List go unwatched. OK, Schindler's List is still totally going unwatched. I'm sorry. I'm just not seeing it. Anyway, I know change can be scary, so please take today to get used to the new look of GIK. There are some new links that you should check out, as well. The Grieco fansite is fantastic and "Monkey Chow Diaries" has already inspired an up-and-coming GIK entry. I'm sorry I've neglected the site, and you, my fellow warriors, for so long. I ask for your forgiveness, and I swear it will never happen again.

Thanks to Sherpa for all of her help with the makeover, both of the site and of my soul. Oh man, I love prescription cough syrup.

Under Construction

I realize that GIK hasn't been the same in a while. There are fewer posts and almost no movie reviews. Well, it's because I've been spending way too much time on my "real" jobs. That's gonna change, my friends. I'm getting rid of one of my real jobs, and focusing up on Grieco once again. In the coming days, look for some bold changes to GIK and for some bold pieces. I intend to to tug at your heart...and your mind. Also, I still have to watch Abominable. Can you believe I haven't checked that shit out yet? Disgraceful.

Go Mavs! (They're gonna get it back together.)

Take 'em in 5

I'm too angry about the Mavs game to talk about Grieco. Even basketball related Grieco type films such as The 6th Man starring Kadeem Hardison (Dwayne Wayne, not Dwayne Wade) as some sort of ghost who leads a team to victory won't help. I'll be back tomorrow. Go Mavs. Avenge me.

Sweet Winnie Cooper

I caught about the last five minutes of a SciFi channel piece entitled Path of Destruction. From the description on my guide and the various fake newscasts that occur at the end of the picture, I gathered that it invoves some sort of cloud of nanotechnology that takes on a life of its own and sets out to destroy Mankind. You know how nanotechnology is; always hellbent on one thing or another. Anyway, I caught a glimpse of the ragtag band of would-be warriors doing battle with the evil cloud, and the main one was a spunky young newswoman played by Danica McKellar. That's right. Winnie Cooper. Now, "West Wing" fans were lucky enough to catch a glimpse of little Winnie all grown up, but if you're looking for another way to relive your childhood fantasy of comforting sweet Winnie out in the woods after she gets the news about her brother dying in 'Nam, check out Path of Destruction. Look, I only saw five minutes, but I guarantee it's a 3-Grieco (see ratings) film. I mean, there's a cloud of nanotechnology wreaking havoc on the planet. That's good stuff, y'all. Oh, and in real life, Danica McKellar discovered some sort of math theorem or something, and that's just totally effing hot.

Interview With a Grieco

I’ve been thinking about the perfect way to celebrate reaching 100 posts. I thought maybe I could go back and watch some of the earlier GIK films to see if they still hold up, but I realized that that would involve all kinds of Julia Stiles and I just can’t put myself through that. Then, I thought about coming up with a list of the 100 worst movies of all time. But if GIK has taught me anything, it’s that there are so many horrible movies I’ve yet to discover, so the list would be incomplete. Finally, I realized that the best way to celebrate 100 posts of Grieco was to celebrate the man himself. Sure, I could have done some research to find out about his life, but I have no interest in timelines. I want to get to the heart of Grieco, and the only way to do that is to interview him…or at least to concoct an interview in my mind:


#5: Dick, thanks for being here.

Grieco: My pleasure. You should really think about trimming your eyebrows. You know, really getting them down to a nice racing stripe.

#5: When I’m out on the streets talking to the people, the one question on everybody’s mind is, “When is Grieco going to drop If Looks Could Kill II on us?”

Grieco: (chuckling) I know, I know. Look, you can’t just crank out a sequel to a picture like that.

#5: It’s been 15 years.

Grieco: Exactly.

#5: Talk to me about Die, Die, Die.

Grieco: What can you say about Evigan? “My Two Dads,” right? With the Judge?

#5: Did---

Grieco: She was tough but fair, you know?

#5: Yes. Yes she was.

Grieco: (crying) Why do the great ones always die so young?

#5: She was like 80.

Grieco: Exactly.

#5: OK. I’m going to throw out some words and phrases, and you say the first thing that comes to your mind.

Grieco: Pudding!

#5: Um…Let’s start now---

Grieco: Pudding is fucking awesome!

#5: Yeah. OK. Johnny Depp.

Grieco: Damn handsome.

#5: Book of Days.

Grieco: Incendiary.

#5: The Legend of Samhain.

Grieco: Cocaine.

#5: Craziest thing you’ve ever done?

Grieco: Road head from a Polynesian circus freak on the way to the set of a softcore starring three mimes and my agent’s nephew…or A Night at the Roxbury.

#5: What’s next?

Grieco: Great American novel. It’s about a family dealing with drought and poverty in the Dust Bowl during the Depression. That. And werewolves. There’s lots of werewolves.

#5: Grieco.

Grieco: (pause) Son. Brother. Warrior. Lover. King. All of us.

#5: Wow. Thank you. Thank you for your time.

Grieco: No problem. So, are there gonna be strippers or what?

The Votes Are In: Resultathon II: The Reckoning

Thanks to all of you who cast your vote and helped me decide which movie to move to the top of my Netflix list. If you didn't vote, you can still check out the descriptions to see what you passed on, and you can curse yourself for the rest of your days for missing out on such an incredible opportunity.

Face the Evil: No Contest II: Access Denied starring the great Lance "Bishop" Henriksen came out on top. However, I am intrigued by all of the other films on the list, so those of you who voted for The Ape and Revenge of the Red Baron should not despair, for those pictures shall find a home on GIK some day. Just as I did last time we had the Netflix vote, I can only assume that you have all seen Point Doom starring Grieco (and Dice Clay) and that's why it received no votes, because seriuosly that's twice now that Grieco has been shut out on a site named in his honor. Although, come to think of it, that somehow makes him even more Grieco in my eyes.

Just a note: Today is GIK's 100th post. Soon, we will celebrate with a bold look back and a bolder look forward. Thank you all for keeping this thing going for so long.

Many Many More Movies

Now that I've seen Blind Horizon and Karate Dog, I feel it's time to turn to you, dear readers, once more. My Netflix queue is in need of some changing. Which one of these films should move to the top of the list?

Point Doom
Grieco and Dice Clay in the same film. There's also something about a love triangle and fleeing the city or something like that. Who cares? Grieco and Dice Clay battle it out over the same chick. That's every woman's fantasy, right? (also stars Ice-T and Angie Everhart)

Revenge of the Red Baron
A young Toby Maguire and an old Mickey Rooney have to fight off a model plane that is possessed by the spirit of the Red Baron. Seems that old Mick killed the Baron back in WWI. Also seems that a cheap puppet plays the spirit of the Baron. (this was suggested by a friend of mine who swears it's the worst film he's ever seen.)

Face the Evil: No Contest II: Access Denied
That's the best fucking title ever. Oh, and it's got Lance Henriksen, Shannon Tweed, an art gallery heist, and some stolen Nazi nerve gas.

The Ape
Nothing I can say compares to the description they use to actually try to sell this piece of shit. Here it is:

"Determined to write the next great American novel, family man Harry Walker (James Franco, also directing his feature film debut) leaves his job as a corporate scrub, moves out of his house and rents an apartment to help him focus. But when he unexpectedly discovers he has a roommate -- a trash-talking gorilla with an affinity for Hawaiian shirts -- Harry's plans go down the drain. Brian Lally portrays the scatological simian." (From Netflix)

Please let me know what I should check out first. Voting will last through Monday. Have a good weekend. Go Mavs!

And Chevy Chase as the Voice of Cho Cho

While I was watching The Karate Dog (I actually prefer just Karate Dog) lat night, a friend of mine asked The Ghost of Gene Siskel and me if we would take roles in a picture like TKD. Our answer? A resounding “hell yes!” Believe me, I would come to the set just happy to be alive and working in the biz. And let’s be honest, taking on a part in Karate Dog seems like a natural progression from telephone psychic, menu hander-outer, door-to-door stuffed bunny salesman, and barista. So, yes I would love to be in Karate Dog. Did I love watching it? Well, that’s a different question altogether.

The Karate Dog
We open with Pat Morita (RIP) breaking into a sciencey type place and stealing a vile of green liquid. He then goes home and starts chatting with his dog, Cho Cho, who has no problem chatting back. Soon, ninjas break in, kill Morita, and run off with the Midori or whatever the hell is in the vile, but not before Cho Cho lays down some really disturbing CGI Kung Fu. Cho Cho then gets rescued by a nerdy cop who’s working on a police computer program called C.O.L.A.R. (Yep. It’s that type of film.) Together, the cop and the dog will find the man responsible for Morita’s death. Enter Jon Voight as Morita’s former student. He sports an awesome ponytail and a southern accent that’s part Phil Hartman’s Bill Clinton and part Foghorn Leghorn with some perfect facial expressions to match his well placed stutters. Voight’s entrance prompted TGOGS to ask, “Is he the worst good actor in the world or the best bad actor?” It’s a question that clearly can’t be answered by mortals, but I did suggest that maybe he’s the best good actor in the world, but he’s just gotten real lazy. Anyway, the fat kid who plays Billy Bob in Varsity Blues plays Voight’s son, so it was nice to see those two reunited. Meanwhile, the nerdy cop is falling in love with Jaime Pressly. This leads to a cringe-worthy Cyrano de Bergerac scene in which the dog feeds the cop romantic lines via his earpiece. I can’t say anything else about this scene that hasn’t already been said about a steaming pile of monkey feces. So, of course Voight is the bad guy. It turns out that the green liquid is a performance enhancing drug that Voight’s been giving to dogs at the dog track in order to cash in on underdogs (sorry). But now he’s ready to take the formula to the people. From there, the movie devolves into your typical anti-steroids/pro-talking dog buddy cop action comedy. Eventually, Cho Cho and Voight engage in a Matrixesque Kung Fu battle that recalls The Highlander. The dog wins, the cop and Jaime Pressly kiss, and Cho Cho is a hero!

When Karate Dog started, there were four of us watching it. In the end, it was just me, y’all. Before he headed out, TGOGS suggested that you could hear the pills in Chevy Chase’s voice. However, as I continued to watch, I concluded that that is simply what regret sounds like. You should see this film. It has to go down as one of the most ridiculous movies ever made, and Voight is truly spectacular. However, the main guy is almost unbearable, the CGI dog is just creepy, and seeing Pat Morita in his weakened condition was very sad. And Chevy…oh Chevy. You were Fletch, my friend. Where did it all go wrong? Whoever she is, she must have screwed you up something fierce.

Anyway, I’m giving The Karate Dog 2 ½-Griecos (see ratings). Watch it, but feel free to fast forward to the scene when Voight enters in some sort of bold Silver Kimono/Native American jacket. That’s when the shit really starts going down.

Why Do You Hate Krull?

The results from the best ‘80s fantasy vote are in. Here’s how it broke down:

Labyrinth: 2

Neverending Story: 2

Dark Crystal: 1

Flashdance: 1 write-in vote

Bruce Boxleitner's Snakehead Terror: 1 write-in vote

Legend (Both Versions): 0

Krull: 0

(Note: I did catch some abuse for leaving out The Last Unicorn.)

I have to admit, I’m a little surprised. Not by Krull’s performance. I mean I realize that the Glave doesn’t hold sway over all men’s souls as it does over mine. I’m not even surprised by Flashdance, because I know for that particular voter that movie is truly the ultimate ‘80s fantasy. I’m surprised that The Dark Crystal didn’t perform better. I honestly thought it would win this thing, but I suppose the power of the luck dragon and of Bowie’s package were just too much.

I would like to thank BTS for introducing Ice Pirates into the discussion. It’s a bold piece that I must revisit as an adult. I also would like to encourage any new readers to GIK to feel free to vote on the nonsense I put up here. I promise we’re all very nice.

Now, for the big news; you all know that I’ve been plagued by the fact that Karate Dog simply hasn’t been available on Netflix. Well, last night it was on ABC family, and you know I taped it. Look for an in depth review sometime this week. In the mean time, I encourage you to revisit the plot to get truly prepared.

I hope everyone had a good long weekend, and I hope you’re ready for some serious effing Grieco this week.

We Know Your Legend's Ree-ee-al

Opening night of Talent Show 1989 went very well. Now that it's up and running I can finally return my focus to GIK. I have some potential hits waiting on my DVR, and my mom just sent me a new batch of DVDs, and you know she always sends at least one Grieco-worthy picture in the lot. I don't want to give too much away, but I will say that I plan on spending this afternoon watching SciFi channel's watered down version of Abominable, which I don't think is really a sequel to Sasquatch, but Lance Henrikson does make an appearance in both. Speaking of Lance Henrikson, please check out his imdb breakdown. It's perhaps the greatest collection of titles I have ever seen. I mean the man is working on Pumpkinhead III and IV simultaneously, and that says nothing of Red Faction II or Dream Warrior aka A Man Called Rage.

If you haven't already done it, cast your vote for best '80s fantasy piece, for tomorrow is the last day to do so. Enjoy the three day weekend, and look for GIK to be back in full swing on Tuesday.

Word.

Shameless Plug #2

Hey y'all. The voting on the best '80s fantasy piece has been a little slow going. Right now, The Dark Crystal and The Neverending Story are battling it out with one vote each. I realize that summertime is upon us and folks are busy learning to love again, so I'll keep the voting open for the remainder of the week. In the meantime, I just want to let everyone know that a play wrote, Talent Show 1989, opens tomorrow night at the Play Theatre. If you're in the Austin area come check it out. You can also listen to an interview I did for the show along with GIK regulars Sherpa and Obidiah on KUT 90.5. It airs all this week in the morning on John Aielli's show.

Alright, now get to voting. Krull needs your support.

Tangerine Dream

I have loved the movie Legend for most of my life. I mean it has everything you could ever want in a film; a young wide-eyed Cruise with long hair, a short tunic, and the belief that he would someday conquer the world; sweet Mia Sara who as Sloan in Ferris Bueller’s Day Off and in my mind many, many times taught me what it was to be a man; and Tim Curry playing Darkness, who is perhaps the most metal incarnation of a Satan figure ever captured on film, and it’s Tim Curry, so even underneath all of the makeup you can catch glimpses of Wadsworth and Dr. Frank-n-Furter. So, I finally got around to watching the director’s cut of Legend this weekend. It restores several scenes that were cut, and perhaps most importantly, it nixes the Tangerine Dream score for the original (Note: The original score was only used for the European release.). Now, don’t get me wrong, I love the semi-prog-synth journey that is Tangerine Dream, but the other score really makes Legend a totally different movie. It restores a classic fairy tale quality to it that’s just not there in the other version. The added scenes also fill in some huge plot holes, and the less-than-super-happy ending is far superior to the original rush job that they pulled. Now, I’m not going to turn my back on the version that I have loved all of these years, but I will say that any fan of Legend really needs to check out the new cut.

Alright, that brings us to the subject of today. While I was watching the new Legend, I tried to figure out what my favorite fantasy movie of that era was. There are several that I believe are closely linked in style, tone, and awesomeness, but I just can’t settle on one. I have created a list, and I would like your votes. Oh, apologies to the Twins and I’m sure many others, because The Last Unicorn doesn’t make my list. I’m sorry. It’s a girl movie. There, I said it. I feel as though a huge weight has been lifted.

Here’s the list:

Labyrinth
It’s got Bowie. It’s also got a young Jennifer Connelly, who like Mia Sara had a huge impact on my youth. It has some bold songs, great puppets, and Hoggle. Hoggle, y’all.

Legend (either version)
I know many of you probably haven’t seen the version I covered today, but the original still kicks ass.

Krull
The Glave, the fire steeds, the Cyclops. Krull is underrated and sadly most people I know haven’t seen it. It rips off Tolkien at every corner, and I’m pretty sure it was made for coke money, bit it’s still truly bold.

The Never Ending Story
Oh Bastian, just say her damn name. The Nothing is coming, and that can’t be good (or can it Obadiah?) In order to stop the Nothing and save Fantasia, the dorkiest hero ever put on film must join forces with Atreyu and a ragtag band of special FX. This is a classic, and the fact that you can tell it’s poorly dubbed because it was originally made by some Eastern Europeans makes it even cooler.

The Dark Crystal
Oh man. This movie is still awesome. I think it’s the most dramatic of the lot, and I think it’s trying to answer the larger questions. It also has some of the greatest puppets ever created. However, it’s so hypnotic at times that it can lull you to sleep.

That’s the list. I know there are more out there, and feel free to bitch about stuff I left off, but please vote on the list as given, it will really help me out.

Zombie Rave

Sometimes when that hallowed orb Luna gives way to that sonofabitch the sun, I awake to the horrid sounds of the alarm clock. In my half-waking state, I imagine that I’m getting out of bed to go to work on the set of a live-action movie version of Galaga. Then, I realize that I work from home and that the alarm clock isn’t for me at all, so I quickly close my eyes and go back to sleep for another four hours. Eventually, when I do roll out of bed, the thoughts of video-game-based movies still linger in my head. Such was the case when I decided to watch House of the Dead.

House of the Dead
The movie is based on a first-person shooter of the same name. I have played it many times in the little movie theater arcade, and I really like it. There’s nothing quite like gripping a plastic machine gun in your hands and firing off rounds at zombies that keep popping up out of nowhere. Watching the movie is another story.

The film opens with one of those voiceover/still-shots introduction of the characters. Some might call this device Brechtian; others would say it’s the work of a talentless hack. Regardless, we meet a bunch of rich 20-somethings. One is a girl who used to date the main guy, but they broke up so he could focus on work and she could focus on her fencing. Seriously, that’s why they broke up. Anyway, there are some other fairly attractive folks and they all want to get to a rave on an island off of Washington or somewhere. They charter a boat captained by Jurgen Prochnow and his mate Clint Howard who clearly are the only ones who know how ridiculous this thing is. Prochnow smokes cigars while killing zombies like no one else, and Howard sports a hook-hand and bizarre vocal choices so you know he’s doing the work.

Cut to the rave. The main guy is already on the island and imbibes in alcohol with the other ravers. OK, as someone who spent a little time at raves (Kind Effect, y’all) I’m always offended by the way raves are depicted in movies like this. I mean where is the pasty emaciated kid who sucks on his pacifier that says “Daddy’s Little Girl” while desperately trying to score some Vitamin C or Vicodin to “kick the X back in?” (Note to young and old readers: X is what those of us who have reached or are about to reach 30 call E.)

Cut back to the ship. The others finally arrive at the rave, but nobody’s there. Nobody that is except for zombies! Eventually, they run into the main voiceover guy and learn what’s going on: Zombies rule the island. There’s then a sepia-toned flashback involving a mad Spaniard whose experiments led to his banishment from Spain and an unholy army of reanimated corpses. And yep, you guessed it; he’s still on the island after all of these centuries. As the zombies kill random C-listers, the main C-listers fight back. As they shoot the walking corpses, the film is intercut with scenes from the video game. I honestly have no idea what the desired effect of this is. It’s just baffling. Finally, the zombies are dead and the Spaniard reveals himself with blade in hand. Luckily, our skilled fencer (remember her?) finds a sword and battles it out in a Matrix-inspired bullet-time finale. Amidst the death of the already-dead, love blossoms and our couple gets back together, work and fencing practice be damned!

OK. I think this movie wanted to be Evil Dead II. The main kid even looks a little like a young Bruce Campbell, but believe me he’s no Bruce Campbell. The whole picture misses the boat entirely. Everyone just looks kind of confused but really psyched about getting work. I’m giving it 1 ½-Griecos (see Ratings). The ½-Grieco is for Prochnow and Howard. Go play the game, watch your copy of Army of Darkness, and start writing a Galaga movie I can star in.

Shameless Plug

Hey y'all.

Please check out my book The Guardian and The Shroud: Jack Rat's First Adventure. It's being carried by literaryroad.com. You can also listen to me ramble on about the book at http://blog.literaryroad.com/

It's a bold kids' piece and it's pretty metal. Thanks, and tomorrow I'll return to Grieco.

I Pull Out My Beretta

Whilst in LA, I had the chance to get fully caught up on Trapped in the Closet. I had watched parts 1-7 on BET, but I had no idea that the midget (sorry, little person) would go on to shit himself and that the Southern wife of the cop who was banging Sylvester’s wife was actually pregnant with the midget’s (sorry, little person’s) baby. I should have given y’all a spoiler alert. I apologize. Anyway, there is nothing I can say that will give Trapped in the Closet its full due. It may be the most amazing thing ever made in any medium. The sheer egomania/mild-retardedness/oddly-proficient-vocal-talent that R. Kelly needed to take on all of the roles and make the other actors lip synch is just amazing. The insurmountable plot holes, the detailed recounts of every little thing that happens (i.e. “She said “damn,” I said “damn”), the way it seems to be either 30 minutes or 4 hous long, and the fact that every choice that is made both by the filmmakers and the characters is wrong but somehow seem so right make this one of the most entertaining musicals/operas/soaps/movies/videos/TV shows you will ever see. All that, and it’s set in Chicago.

A question of Griecos is out of the question. An entire site would need to be created and a new rating system would have to be mulled over for ages to truly score this piece. However, I am interested to know what will happen in "Part 13" and beyond. I have some thoughts, and I need your opinion.

A. Sylvester and the gang are visited by aliens. It turns out that the aliens are the ones who actually impregnated the redneck girl, causing the cop’s head to explode as he smokes his 15th cigarette of the film. To get a handle on the situation, Sylvester pulls out his gun and kills the lot of them.

B. Sylvester’s wife turns out to be the one responsible for setting up the preacher and the deacon. It also turns out that she lured her friend (the preacher’s wife) into sleeping with Sylvester, through a miracle of science she knocked up the redneck girl, and through her powers of telepathy she caused the midget (fuck off) with the big dick to shit himself. Astounded by his woman’s Machiavellian scheme, Sylvester pulls out his gun and kills the lot of them.

C. It’s all in Sylvester’s mind, rendering everything I have sat through completely and utterly useless. Pissed that “R.” would stoop to pulling a Shyamalan, I pull out my imaginary gun and pretend to shoot that bastard Adrian Grenier. I know that’s got nothing to do with anything, but I really hate that guy.

D. Other (Please elaborate).

Submit your thoughts, and if you have any idea when the next round will be out you must let me know.

L. Ron, Ron, Ron, Ron, Ron Away

I’m back from LA, and I’ve learned a few things. First, they’re not lying about the weather out there. It truly is perfect. Second, Scientologists are really fucking scary. I know everybody jokes about it and we all think Cruise has gone off the deep end, but until you’ve stared it in the face I don’t know if you can fully appreciate it. I saw the Celebrity Center, which is everything you’d expect: A resort-style castle surrounded by greenery, sports cars, and perfectly veneered teeth. The center for “normal” folks is not so fancy. When I first passed it I gave out an uncontrollable scream of horror like when Damian sees the church in The Omen. I don’t know what it was, but I felt as though all the Darkness of the world resided within those walls. The building is massive, complete with high-rise dormitories (you know for the people who live there), a barbecue/meeting area (you know for fresh meat), and a giant cross overlooking a pavilion (you know for striking fear into the hearts of men). The whole compound was in a tizzy while I was there, because the anniversary (50th? 1000th?) of the publishing of Dianetics was approaching, and there was a great event to plan. Driving past the blinking NBA-arena-style sign that promised to rid me of stress and anxiety, we came upon the Psychiatry: An Industry of Death Museum. OK, in case you skimmed over that, here it is again. The Psychiatry: An Industry of Death Museum. Now, my tour guide through the peaks and valleys of Hollywood (you know him as Anonymous) told me that the Scientologists owned much of the area we were in, so although a building might be called “The Philosophical Research and Regeneration Center” (or something like that), the Scientologists could very well own it. I’m sure the Psychiatry: An Industry of Death museum was theirs. After all, Cruise did tell us that psychiatry is a “pseudo-science” and that he knows the history of it and you don’t Matt Lauer so suck on that. Look, I don’t want to get into a debate over the merits of psychiatry here, but regardless of your feelings, the name of that museum is just scary as shit. In order to cope with my growing stress and anxiety, I went to In and Out Burger and then hit MI: III. What? You think I’m gonna miss that movie just because Cruise is batshit crazy and he supports an evil cult hell-bent on world domination? Please. What do you take me for?

MI: III
I know I don’t normally review new movies, but since it’s summer blockbuster season I’ll probably be making some exceptions. OK, I saw MI: III in the Dome, which might be the greatest theater ever conceived by Man. You have reserved seats, the screen wraps around the wall (but it’s not like seeing a normal movie on IMAX where everyone’s pores are really big), the digital projection/sound are unmatched, and Robert Downey Jr. was hanging out, and that guy totally just worked with Kilmer. As for the film, it has everything you’d expect: Cruise running, laughing, jumping, laughing, and having an awkward love scene; Ving Rhames making deep-voiced wisecracks; some hot chicks; rubber masks; and serious plot holes. The most disappointing aspect of the movie is that Phillip Seymour Hoffman is tragically underused. He’s totally awesome from the second he comes on screen, but they needed to give him like at least 30 more minutes. (note to director J.J Abrams: we get it; Cruise and his girlfriend are really in love. Jesus, now get back to PSH and some explosions.) (Another note to J.J. Abrams: I swear to God if they show another rerun of "Lost" I will hold you responsible and I will personally come back to Hollywood to hunt you down and destroy you using only a polar bear, a wheelchair, and the abs of sweet Evangeline Lilly.) Sorry, back to the movie. So, Crudup does alright and the "Shaun of the Dead" guy is funny, but Laurence Fishburne gives one of the most baffling, misguided performances since The Matrix Revolutions. While I was entertained, I found myself longing for MI: I, Jon Voight, and the NOC List. Seriously, where the hell is the NOC list?

The movie doesn’t really fall into the standard GIK rating system, so I’ll give it 2 ½ Lord Xenus. It’s worth checking out, but you could just as easily stay home and read up on silent birth.

The Land of Grieco

Hey y'all, I'm heading out to LA for a few days to make it big and generally keep it real. I shall return on Wednesday with tales of Grieco and reviews of movies. Yes, I will finally start reviewing movies again. Meanwhile, please feel free to go back to the beginning and relive all the good times we've had together.

And on the 8th day, God created Grieco and said that it was badass.

Will It Stop the Rage, Michael?

First, I just want to thank The Ghost of Gene Siskel for stepping in and knocking it out of the park. I now realize that every day that I don’t see Savage Dawn is a day lived as a coward.

Anyway, it’s good to be back. Now, those of you who know me most likely realize that I have a seemingly endless capacity for getting pissed off about things that really aren’t worth getting angry about at all. Over the past year or so I have tried to tone down the rage, but that’s really just so my lovely girlfriend won’t be afraid of me. However, there are a few things happening right now that must be talked about.

The Miami Vice Remake
OK, I can accept the fact that no one is even bothering to come up with new ideas in Hollywood, but if you’re gonna bring "Miami Vice" to the screen, you set it in the fucking ‘80s. This is a TV show that was conceived, written, and directed by cocaine. Now, you (yes you, Michael Mann) are going to come in with this “gritty” piece about undercover work? Please. Let me guess, do the cops (I refuse to even refer to them as Crockett and Tubbs) get in too deep? I saw some photos and everything is all grey and black. If ocean blue and coral aren’t in the costume design, why are you even bothering to call it Miami Vice? Is anyone even going to utter the word “cartel” or “Panamanian shrimper?” I know that some be-vested yuppie with feathered hair and the mustache to match is not going to make sweet love to a chick in a neon-green high-cut bikini on the lower deck of a speed yacht , and that’s just sickening. And Collin Farrell? Please. That man is not worthy to hold Don Johnson’s dick mid piss. I call for a GIK boycott of this picture. That’ll show ‘em. You hear that Mike? You just lost like $30.

The Omen Remake
Yes, I know I harp on remakes, but this one is disgraceful. The Omen is one of the greatest horror films out there. If you haven’t seen it, there is a good chance that you have absolutely no idea what life’s about. Now, I saw a preview for the new one and it looks as thought their basically using the original screenplay, but they’re throwing in some spooooky devil imagery like hooded figures appearing in the mirror and shit. Oh, and Julia Stiles is taking on the lead female role. Julia Stiles, people! That girl isn’t worthy to hold Lee Remick’s boosh mid wax. And, I think Damian is an American kid. As if we don’t all know that the Antichrist is a pale young Brit (or at least a Russian).

Carlos Mencia
There’s nothing I love more than comedians who tell you how offensive they are before they make a joke. Through the non-stop commercials that Comedy Central shows for this douchebag’s show and the one time I couldn’t lunge for the remote quickly enough, I have heard the great Carlos utter phrases like “get your hate mail ready.” Yeah dude, you’re incendiary. Your observations about how black guys date white girls and how gay men are into other men are really fucking insightful. Bring me the head of Carlos Mencia! This guy is not worthy of licking Carrot Top’s taint mid bench-press.

Gatorade
Y’all remember the good old days when you could walk into a 7-11 and all you had to choose between was green Gatorade and orange Gatorade? Maybe the fancy stores introduced fruit punch (red) into the mix, but that was it. Now, sweet lord! There’s a flavor for every force of nature. And I don’t care what you say, every new version; whether it’s rain, frost, ice, maelstrom or whatever, it all tastes like either green or orange Gatorade but slightly watered down. That volleyball girl (Keri Walsh) in the “Rain” commercials is kind of hot, though.

Alright, I could get into some other stuff like calling yourselves Journey when Steve Perry isn’t in the band or Hollywood’s refusal to produce my piece about an explosives expert who moonlights as a special-ed teacher, but I’ll save that for another time. Besides, the painkillers are starting to kick in and I’m not quite as angry as I was a few minutes ago…hey look, a "Sex and the City" rerun. God I love those four whores and their totally realistic escapades through the wasteland that is New York. I mean any city that Derek Jeter calls home must be awesome. That gum-smacking, shit-eating prick is my favorite.

TGOGS

The Ghost of Gene Siskel here, coming off the bench for #5 as he finishes up his month of silence at the Greater Pflugerville Buddhist Meditation Zone. I humbly thank him for the guest slot; for the rest of you, I have a question. Have you ever purchased a videocassette at Goodwill because it had the most evocative, enticing cover you’ve ever seen? If so, you, like me, probably picked up this gem.

The thing about the cover, though, is that the futuristic, Star Wars-inspired artist’s rendering belies the gritty, workaday action flick that lies within. Someone in Marketing must have realized this, for I’ve found two alternate versions on the net, neither as compelling as the one above. But enough about the outer facade – let’s get up in the guts of the film itself:

SAVAGE DAWN
This 1989 picture opens with badass loner Stryker (artfully portrayed by Lance Henrickson) fueling up his futuristic motorcycle (1) at a remote desert gas station, smoking right by the pump. Up rolls a motley crew of leather-clad bikers who proceed to harass a nice young lady and bully the owner. (I swore one of the bikers was Randy Quaid for half the film, and his little buddy bore a striking resemblance to Alan Cumming in Chicago, as noted by the lovely Obadiah. At any rate, they make for a powerful comic duo throughout.) Henrickson intervenes in the kerfuffle and the bikers turn on him, choosing to gang up on him in the classic one-dude-makes-a-clumsy-lunge-with-a-heavy-object-while-the-others-snarl-on-the-perimiter, waiting-their-turn style of combat. He kicks some ass, rides his bike over a station wagon and tears off toward the sleepy desert town of Agua Dulce. Upon arrival, he receives a less-than-warm welcome from the Sheriff, Deputy Joe-Bob (who moonlights as a take-all-comers brawler in the local saloon) and another deputy who is, yep, a midget. Then a local blonde comes up out of nowhere to lay a serious kiss on Henrickson, and the fuzz backs off. We learn that she’s his best friend’s daughter, who he hasn’t seen since she was a little girl. Her status as love-interest is immediately and creepily established. But who’s this best friend Stryker is seeking out? Why it’s George Kennedy, a wheelchair-bound weapons expert with whom Henrickson has apparently gone through some very dark and blood-soaked times (Special Ops?). Man. They sure are relieved that all that’s behind them now...

Or is it? (It isn’t.)

So the “Savages,” as the gang calls themselves, rumble into town, now in their full numbers, which are legion. Here we meet the leader of the pack, the dude who plays John Goodman’s sidekick in Raising Arizona (“Mighty fine cereal flakes, Ms. McDonough.”). He’s playing pretty much the same role, except meaner and bearded, with a limp. It’s great. The bikers start some trouble in the saloon, with this guy fighting Deputy Joe Bob and winning only when Cereal Flakes steps in to cheat. The bar wench, a drunken Karen Black, decides that now is a good time to say “screw this town” and hops on the back of Cereal Flakes’ bike as the gang rumbles away. Henrickson observes all, disgusted but passive.

And so it goes, bikers breaking shit and ripping girls’ shirts off while Henrickson suppresses his fighting instincts, until they mess with someone he cares about. It’s George Kennedy’s teenage son, who gets dragged behind a motorcycle and scuffed up pretty handily. Henrickson saves the kid and they hole up in Kennedy’s compound (no pun intended) on the outskirts of town to prepare for the all-out-war they know is coming. But instead of doing the obvious thing and equipping Henrickson’s bike with all manner of boss weaponry, Kennedy pieces together some sort of potato gun rocket launcher out of PVC pipe, tinfoil and a professional-grade explosive head which he evidently unscrewed from a real rocket launcher and duct-taped to his contraption. A few Savages come out to try to start shit, wielding chains, blades and a cordless drill, but Henrickson dispatches with them swiftly. And here I need to discuss a specific aspect of the fight choreography. I’m not certain that it happens in this scene, but I do know it happens. Henrickson, surrounded by thugs, dipping, dodging, outmaneuvering, outfoxing, in a moment of inspiration, grabs the most convenient makeshift weapon at hand, which happens to be a fucking rattlesnake, and stabs a dude in the neck with it. That’s the caliber work we’re dealing with.

As for the rest of the bad guys, they devise a scheme whereby a couple of hot biker chicks will saunter up to the gates of the local Army base (motto: “To Protect and Serve,” which I thought belonged to a different outfit, but never mind), seduce the dimwitted guards, and then bust in en masse. All goes according to plan, and they manage to steal a couple of tanks. Nobody ever comes after them for this, if you were wondering. And so the stage is set for the final showdown.

The pandemonium reaches a fever pitch in down town Agua Dulce. The Savages are getting down to some serious “partying,” including the cold-blooded murder of a barber who’s trying to spread the Gospel (played for laughs) and yet another biker harlot seducing the town’s preacher, who is also, for no reason, also the mayor (2). Now is the time when our heroes spring into action. Kennedy suggests that they sneak into town through the mines, which have never been mentioned up until this point. He and Henrickson do so and emerge in some sort of Chinese bodega – you see, there is now a large Chinese population in the town that appears to have been cut from the rest of the film but is integral to Act III. Not Americanized Chinese, mind you – they mill about in silken vestments and conical bamboo hats. They’ve even got their own hero, a young man who joins forces with Team Stryker. Welcome to the film, Chinese villagers!

So the blonde stages a diversion by attempting to usurp Cereal Flakes’ bitch seat from Karen Black. While the Savages hoot and holler at the ensuing cat fight, Kennedy sends the local retarded kid on what could be a suicide mission – taking his bomb-stuffed teddy bear over to one of the bikers’ tanks and leaving it there to explode. It’s a total close one, since the kid is retarded and all, but it works, the tank blows up and Kennedy starts taking shit out with his potato gun – bye, Alan Cumming. The Chinese guy gets into the mix, nobly attempting to justify his inclusion in the film. Finally, Henrickson shows up, kills Cereal Flakes and various supporting characters, and the remaining Savages bug out and the town is safe once more. Henrickson and blonde, sunset, credits.

As all GIK regulars know, there are bad movies that you struggle through and bad movies that you just can’t get enough of. Savage Dawn is definitely one of the latter. It moves pretty well and has all the right ingredients. The clichéd everything, gratuitous boob shots and cavalcade of B-list stars all coalesce to make this one of the finest crappy movies ever to have graced my shelf. I’m giving it 3 ½ Griecos (see ratings)– the extra ½ Grieco is for the fucking snake.

----

1The bike is the only thing remotely futuristic about the film – it’s kind of a precursor to the Kawasaki Ninja.

2This bit part is played by Richard Lynch, who receives billing on the poster while Henrickson gets none. He must be somebody – he has 151 credits to his name on imdb, none of which I’ve managed to see. No clue who he is, but I’m sure one of you dorks knows. Kev?

A Quick Thought on Grieco

Grieco, like the Universe, is always expanding.

One Day 'til The Ghost of Gene Siskel.

Why Grieco? Why?

Y'all remember when I used to review bad movies and talk about the crazy dreams I'd have? Man, those were good times. I am currently in the middle of a move and I have now officially worked 18 of the last 19 days, oft' until the wee hours o' the morn'. I knew this working from home shit would turn ugly at some point. In order to deal with the insanity, I will be bringing in The Ghost of Gene Siskel as a guest blogger at some point this week. He is a lover of bad cinema and a true American talent, so treat him nice. I have also sent various emails to various clients to tell them to fucking chill down, so hopefully I will be back to normal soon. I ask you to stay with me, not for myself, but for Grieco. Yeah, Grieco. All he ever wanted was to find a pretty dame and live the quiet life, but this crazy world never gave him nothin' but a ball of wax. Yeah, that's right, a ball of wax!

I'm gonna work some more and then go to bed.

Clip Show

Work will be the death of me and the death of Grieco. I ask you to hang in there with me until the middle of next week. I know I said that last week, but I really mean it this time. Meanwhile, please check out these past posts that I believe will make you smile:

She's Runnin a Little Bit Hot Tonight

Somebody's Going to Emergency, Somebody's Going to Jail

and my personal favorite, The Trytophan Parallel


And Grieco said to me, "those are the times when I was carrying you."

Mammoth Watch

Well, my good friends at the SciFi channel are at it again. Mammoth is hitting the small screen this weekend, and with a tagline like "We hunted it to extinction, now it's hunting us" you know it's gonna be kickass. It also stars Tom Skerritt, a true believer in Grieco and a great American hero. Hell, let's see what the gifted people behind films such as Manticore, Minotaur, and Frankenfish had to say about their latest piece:

"When a meteor smashes into a Pleistocene museum, the fury of a partially frozen, 40,000-year-old mammoth is unleashed on a small country town.Under orders to contain the threat posed by the mammoth at all costs, Special Agents Powers (Leila Arcieri) and Whitaker (Marcus Lyle Brown) are given 17 hours to kill the mammoth or else the entire town will be decimated. The agents recruit local paleontologist Dr. Frank Abernathy (Vincent Ventresca) to help them hunt down the creature before its rampage of death and destruction reaches the outside world.With the clock ticking and the body count rising, the only chance Dr. Abernathy has of saving his daughter, Jack (Summer Glau), and B-movie-fanatic father, Simon (Tom Skerritt), is to help the agents destroy his life's work."

I'm pretty sure Marcus Lyle Brown was in SciFi's Locusts, so you know he's got the goods. Check it out if you have the chance, and pray that it ends with the birth of a baby Mammoth so we can all dream about, as The Ghost of Gene Siskel is fond of saying, the sequel that will never happen.

p.s. please try the links, I'm really proud I figured out how to do them.

And a Homecoming Queen

So, I am heading out to LA in a couple of weeks to, you know, take the world by storm with my unique brand of hair-care products and exfoliates. Since I received my tickets, I’ve been having these bizarre daydreams about the trip. I’ll be working or watching the latest episode of “Cash in the Attic” with uber Brit Alistair Appleton and I’ll see myself at some LA party. I don’t know what I’m doing there, but I feel pretty at home. As I make my way from the bar to the indoor kiddy pool, I run into my good friend Corbin Bernson. He’s eating celery out of a papaya-flavored tortilla and talking to Parker Stevenson about a possible “Hardy Boys” remake. “You know, like the "Case of the Headless Magician" or some shit. We’ll get Corey Nemic to play the villain. I’ll direct. It’ll be fucking brilliant,” Bernson says as he greets me with a knowing nod. I nod back to Corbs and twist and turn my way through the crowd that is growing on the Plexiglass dance floor. I accidentally step on Tony Danza’s foot. He does an ape grunt, puts me in a headlock, yells “Samanther” and starts two-stepping with an ultra-buff Jonathan Lipnicki and that bitch Kimmy Gibler. I shake off the Danza encounter and head to the backyard. Kirk Cameron is atop a palm tree cursing all of the party-goers and decrying them as wicked sinners who will surely perish in the Fiery Furnace. In the middle of his sermon, the entire cast of Best of the Best 3 starts chanting “jump, jump, jump…” Soon, Kirk remembers a time when he thought the Good Book was actually "Tiger Beat," gives into the whims of the crowd, and leaps from the tree to land safely in the pool. This instantly causes others to follow suit and soon everyone is jumping in the pool fully clothed, splashing about, and listening to classic tunes of the ‘50s and ‘60s. Not wanting to get my Fila terrycloth jumpsuit wet, I head back inside and take the opportunity to makeout with a wasted Elizabeth Berkely who keeps yelling “I’m so excited, I’m so excited, I’m so scared,” but I don’t care because she’s totally Jesse Spano and Nomi Malone, and that’s wicked hot. Just as I am getting ready to ditch Berkley to try to score with the delightful Anne Hathoway (the closest thing to an A-lister at this thing), I hear his voice from across the room.
“You,” his voice cuts through me like a Glave. I turn to see Grieco standing over the onion dip and backlit like some kind of a god. He snaps his fingers and motions, no demands, that I join him.
“I read your shit, and I am not pleased.” His wax-thin eyebrows raise, his hair plugs spark, and he drops me with a shot to the nose. Grieco then starts to laugh and throws money at me on the ground just like in The Godfather.

Man, what an awesome daydream.

The Passion of The Grieco

In honor of Good Friday and Easter, I thought it would be a great time to mock the religion of my birth with an insightful look at the film that reinvigorated Faith and brought an obscure Holocaust-denying sect of Catholicism to light. Oh Mel Gibson, where was your Nazi-loving “don’t go there Diane” father when you were filming that piece of shit Ransom? Anyway, here’s the deal. I haven’t actually seen The Passion of the Christ. I hear there’s like a nine-minute flogging scene, and if there’s one thing I can’t stand it’s floggings that last more than say two, three minutes. I also know how it all turns out: Mary Magdalene is buried in the Louvre, right? Now, I’m not usually one to review a film that I haven’t seen, but I think it is OK here. For those of you who have braved this awe-inspiring piece, please correct me if I’m wrong.

The Passion of the Christ
OK. My mom loves Jim Caviezel, the guy who plays Jesus, so she sends me most of the movies he’s in. I’ve checked out Frequency and the very awesome Count of Monte Cristo, as well as some claptrap that he’s in with Ashley Judd and Morgan Freeman. Anyway, he’s kind of generic but he’s not terrible, so I’m sure he knocks out the Aramaic thing alright. Let’s ignore the acting and all that anyway, and let’s get down to what really matters: the audience. If you remember, people fucking freaked out when this movie opened. Churches booked theaters for the entire day and bussed in blonde children, and the Protestants and the Catholics went on TV together and decided that they could finally be dicks about the same thing, and they said it was a wakeup call for Hollywood and that this film proved that Christians are a viable movie-going audience. Well, no shit. Don’t Christians make up like at least 80% of the fucking population? Who was it that was going to movies before? Just the heathens in NY, LA, and Chicago and the two Jewish guys who live in Nebraska? Yeah, your people are so oppressed and forced to see movies with violence other than flogging, and God forbid your kid might accidentally catch a glimpse of tit up there on the big screen.

So the Christians got all high and mighty for a change and told everybody to see this movie and that it was true to the Bible and the most real portrayal of the Passion ever, or at least I guess since The Oberramagau. Well, let’s take a look at that claim. First of all, the flogging bit is given about two to three lines in the Bible depending on which Gospel you're down with, so I guess even Mel knows you gotta “sex” things up a bit for the people. He is of course the man who made Braveheart, one of the most gratuitously violent, hook-in-the-balls movies I’ve ever seen. Second of all, Batshit Gibson based much of his work for The Passion on a book written by a Nun that many believe was insane and drew her conclusions not from the Bible or the Lord but from some crazy dude named Gene that liked to whisper in her ear. Alright, I don’t really know if his name was Gene. Third of all, I believe (let’s remember that I haven’t seen this thing) that there is a “Satan” figure that lurks in the shadows and has bugs or rodents or reptiles or some other lower beasts crawling around him at all times. Come on, that shit’s not in the Bible. Sure Lucifer makes that bold appearance in the desert and unleashes some truly metal type stuff in "Revelation," but he’s not like some villain in a Spiderman comic. Fourth of all, what the fuck? Seriously. I have no problem with making a movie about Jesus. I mean, God knows it beats a lot of the crap out there, and I do love happy endings. But people just acted like it was gonna change the world and film and all that, and it’s just the work of this guy who used to be kind of funny when he would play crazy but is now not so funny that he’s actually crazy. One good thing did come out of it, though. Left Behind III: World at War got a bigger budget on the heels of The Passion, so that’s cool. Anyway, sorry I took it down a notch today. I’ll get back to reviewing movies that matter next week. Oh, I’ll give The Passion 1-Grieco, but if you pray real hard you can turn that into enough Griecos to feed the entire crowd.

Stay With Me, Grieco

'Sup y'all. I have finally got this work thing under control. I will be back tomorrow with a real post and next week should be filled with bold looks into the world of Grieco and perhaps even a post about Griecotology which is a bullshit religion that I'm just gonna pull out of my ass. Right now I know that it involves Grieco, a magic sword, an Elven princess, a bucket of water, and this guy who works at the Golden Chick down the street. I'll let you know when I've figured it all out.

KIG

Ted Theodore Logan

It’s great to be back. Cubs have been looking pretty good during my hiatus.

Now, let’s focus on something that has been bothering me of late or at least since yesterday when I watched Constantine. For those of you who don’t know (and I fear that is most of you) Constantine is based on a graphic novel and it follows that tale of lung-cancer-ridden-former-suicide-current-demon-slayer John Constantine. It is basically up to good old John (played by Keanu Reeves) to stop the birth of the Son of Satan and maintain the balance of good and evil in the world in order to save Mankind. Now, there are few things I love more than bold graphic novels (and the movies based on them) that deal heavily in Catholic mythology and iconography. Seriously, I love that shit. In fact, some might suggest that The Ghost of Gene Siskel and I are working on such a piece. Others might suggest that I’m a complete dork. Anyway, it is not the plot of Constantine, the fact that former Bush front-man Gavin Rossdale has a speaking role, or even the nearly incoherent plotting of the film that bothers me. In fact, I was entertained, and Peter Stormare’s slightly-effeminate, vaguely-Southern Satan is one of the best portrayals of Lucifer I’ve seen. What bothers me is that people keep casting Keanu Reeves as The One. Seriously, that is a strange bit of typecasting to fall into. It’s not like always playing the cop, the coach, or the victimized wife, or even, as Matt Damon has demonstrated, the fast-talking-streetwise-genius. I mean playing the savior of all Mankind once is a pretty big deal, but Keanu’s basically made a career out of it, and he doesn’t even change his inflection or make any sort of facial expressions ever. Let’s break it down Grieco style:

Constantine: We just hit on some of the highpoints of this film, but there is more to discuss. That damn Shia LaBeouf is in it as the eager-sidekick-that-you-just-know-is- going-to-have-a-dramatic-death-scene. I don’t know why, but I totally hate this kid. Also, Academy Award Darling Rachel Weisz looks confused up there as she plays twins, wanders through Hell, and, like all of us, tries to figure out how Keanu Reeves keeps getting work. That said, there’s some nice angel/demon shots and Tilda Swinton makes the hottest Arch Angel Gabriel I’ve ever seen (sorry Walken in The Prophecy). Overall, I give it 2 ½-Griecos

The Matrix I, II, and III: OK. Neo is Keanu’s most famous portrayal of The One. I love the first one, think the second one pretty much sucks, and the third one is one of the worst films ever made. You know what these movies are all about, and Keanu’s acting style almost works as Neo has spent most of his life as little more than a computer program. Also, I once met Carrie Ann Moss when Kev won a contest that allowed us to fly to LA to meet the "Models Inc." girls. (Matrix Reloaded: 1 ½-Griecos; Matrix Revolutions: ½-Grieco)

Johnny Mnemonic: This film kind of gave birth to The Matrix trilogy. It’s set in a dystopic futureworld where everybody has barcodes on their necks and stuff like that. Reeves is the titular robot messenger who runs afoul of “The Corporation” and eventually must team up with a ragtag group of underground hackers to keep his head from exploding and to save Mankind. Reeves is a robot, so again, it kind of works. If you can make it through the second half of this complete and utter mess, I salute you. (1 ½-Griecos)

A Walk in the Clouds: I have no idea if Keanu saves the world in this one, because there is not enough cash or blowjobs in the world to make me sit through this pile of mung.

Bill and Ted’s Excellent Adventure/Bill and Ted’s Bogus Journey: Okay, so he’s not The One in this, but he is one of The Two. What can I say; I love both of these movies. I think Bogus Journey is highly underrated. I mean Bill Sadler as Death is just awesome. There are Bergman spoofs, Steve Vai guitar licks, and Station (yeah, Station). (Excellent Adventure: 4-Griecos; Bogus Journey: 4-Griecos)

Alright, we’ve hashed it out. Apparently if you are born with perfect bone structure and a complete inability to act (see above and Bram Stoker’s Dracula) you are truly The Chosen. I don’t get it. I mean what the fuck? Seriously, how does he keep getting this kind of work? I know he’s handsome, but come on! OK, so he’s totally cool as Johnny Utah in Point Break.

Grieco Shall Return

Hey y'all, work is destroying me. However, I will return Wednesday with restored energy and the desire to talk about a little film I like to call SS DoomTrooper. Please feel free to catch up on some past posts.

Hold on to Grieco, for he holds on to you.

A Quick Note

Hey, y'all. Sorry for the general lack of posting this week. While I had all kinds of free time during tournament week, I have now fallen victim to this whole work thing, and I haven't been able to watch any movies, which totally sucks because my mom just sent me a copy of The Island that is begging to be reviewed. Anyway, I should have it under control by the end of next week. I do have some things planned, but on days that I can't post I urge you all to peruse the archives and check out the stuff that you might have missed or forgotten. Thanks for sticking with GIK in these times of tribulation.

Cry "Grieco," and let slip the dogs of war.

If Music Be the Food of Love...

In my college days, I was one of those kids who did the whole Wizard of OZ/Darkside of the Moon thing. It totally blew my mind, and it continued to blow my mind the next three or four times I tried it. Now, I’ll leave the “did they or didn’t they” debate to those who frequent the Pink Floyd laser shows, and I will say that this is not a lone phenomenon. A friend of mine (the one who suggested this post) discovered that ELO’s concept album Time plays perfectly with Species 2. We also stumbled onto the fact that there is an ‘80s mix CD that I’m sure was created to be played with this obscure “Tiger Seal” documentary that is on Discover or National Geographic. Trust me, when you hear “Toy Soldiers” by Martika play while this poor little animal gets tossed in the air, you will cry. Unless of course you have no soul. Anyway, all of this got me thinking about possible music/movie combos that might work out. Here is a short list of what I came up with.

Steve Vai’s Passion and Warfare with The English Patient
Let’s face it. Only the sweet rock melodies of Vai could make this piece-of-shit movie bearable.

The Flaming Lips’ The Soft Bulletin with The Hobbit (Animated)
I think this disk probably works with anything especially if there is ‘Tussin dust involved, but I really believe it’s gonna take what is already a badass cartoon to the next level.

Trans Am’s Futureworld with Futureworld

Hall & Oates’ Greatest Hits with Weekend at Bernie’s
I really think there is something to this one. Both pieces are clearly fueled by cocaine, and both feature a comically mismatched pair consisting of one WASP and one ethnic dude. And it's Hall & Oates, so you can't really go wrong.

That's all I got for now. Please let me know if you have stumbled upon any other combos or if there are any you are seriously contemplating.

Guest Post

I had something prepared for today, but the world-famous Kev left a comment yesterday that I believe is "guest post" worthy. He calls himself "Anonymous," but the structure of the piece is clearly Kev's. That, and he told me he wrote it. So, here it is in case you missed it.

From the Desk of Anonymous:

Dear GIK,
Did you know that it is National Library Week? Well, in celebration, I offer my favorite library-related films. Guess which one lends itself most freely to GIK worthiness...

3. Party Girl
Mary is a free spirited party girl who is forced to work in the library after her godmother bails her out of jail. One night Mary gets stoned and breaks into the library to memorize the Dewey Decimal System. She throws herself into her work and ultimately decides to go to library school. In one powerful speech, her godmother remarks on how Dewey hired women as librarians because they couldn’t be expected to think too much. This is a quirky film, but offers a positive image for librarians.

2. UHF
The manager of a small TV station hits it big with a mix of crazy programs. A vignette for the program Conan the Librarian features a patron asking for a book on Astronomy. Conan picks him up and says threateningly "Don't you know the Dewey Decimal Classification?" Later, Conan slices another borrower in half for returning a book late. Conan is the librarian many of us have wanted to be.

1. Soylent Green
In the year 2022, a homicide cop investigates a murder and finds an explosive secret. He must get this knowledge to the Council, a ruling body made up of librarians because they are the only ones left in this society who know how to get information. A dark film, but an interesting spin on the information explosion.

Thanks for the reviews Kev, and if this thing ever gets turned into a book I will gladly take credit for them.

Opening Day

'Sup y'all? I'm still recovering a bit from the GIK tournament and I'm getting ready to watch the mighty Chicago Cubs take the field today in the first game of what will surely be their World Series season. I will return tomorrow with a post suggested by a long-time reader who is too lazy to come up with a clever screen name. That's right "Anonymous", I'm talking to you. If that even is your real name.