Innocent Bystander

Rosie Live dead...

In what could quite possibly be the only GREAT news I heard all weekend, Rosie O'Donnell has single-handedly killed the television variety show once again. After one--and mercifully ONLY one--appearance on NBC on Wednesday night, Rosie Live is dead.

Semi-celebrity O'Donnell, most famous these days for her public feuds with fellow semi-celebrities Donald Trump and Barbara Walters, managed to turn off most of America with her first show which was seen by an even smaller audience than NBC's stellar remake of Knight Rider. As Rosie herself put it on her blog, "there will b no more...no ratings/bad reviews/yet still a thrill 4 me," evidently not even mustering up enough enthusiasm to use proper English and complete sentences. Maybe she'll get a new job writing vanity license plates.

The good news is Rosie can now go back to fighting with Barbara Walters full-time, something we have absolutely no problem ignoring. We're silently praying they both kill each other, or, at the very least, get hit by a bus while arguing in the middle of Times Square.

Especially during the holiday season, it's important to pursue your dreams.

Transporter 3 (2008)

I have a confession to make. It's a dirty little admission on my part, equal parts scandalous and shocking:

I enjoyed Transporter 3 more than I did Quantum of Solace. Seriously.

Comparatively speaking there is no comparison between James Bond, super-spy, and Frank Martin, talented driver with martial arts skills. There's equally no comparison between the acting styles of Daniel Craig and the relatively silent but deadly Jason Statham. The movies, are similar in a number of ways: Car chases, hand-to-hand combat, ecological organization plotting world domination (sort of, in T3), exotic Russian actress as female lead.

But the difference is Transporter 3 has a lucid plot: Frank is saddled with "transporting" another "package," this time a kidnapped Ukrainian woman (Natalya Rudokova), who is being held to convince her father, a high-ranking government minister, to allow a shady ecological company access to his country (why is a little unclear, but who cares? It's the MacGuffin in the plot.) The catch is both Martin and the girl--Valentina--have high-powered explosive bracelets on their wrists that dictate they must stay in close proximity of the car at all times. That means the car has to go places with Frank that hasn't gone before. Like on the top of a train.

There's more to T3 that makes it more enjoyable than QoS. The fight scenes are both thrilling and much easier to follow, even though they also include that frenetic editing style, stolen from the Bourne films. The difference here is they're shot in such a way that you can see what's happening. Clearly this movie was directed by someone with action film experience. The same can be said about the car chase scenes, of which there are many; after all the Transporter does drive for a living. But the biggest thing that separates the two films is a great villain: Robert Knepper plays Johnson, a sinister go-to guy for the ecological firm, who plots both the kidnapping and the Transporter's involvement. Knepper is best known for his role as Theodore "T-Bag" Bagwell on Prison Break, and here he's as menacing as he is deadpan. Knepper actually elevates this fun action flick to the level of very fun, and makes it--I think--the best of the series (which is damning all three movies with faint praise).

Let's face it: Each film in the Transporter series is never going to be anything other than a fun two hours or so watching a movie. And maybe that's the best thing that makes it more enjoyable than the latest James Bond outing: It doesn't take itself seriously for one moment. Neither will you while watching it.

Friday Foto #54

Continuing our New York City series...

One of my favorite shots, and like every favorite one, something I just happened upon. That's 30 Rock disappearing in the distance. The overhead is construction I was walking under.

To see more of my photos, Friday or otherwise, click here!

Happy Thanksgiving and happy thanks-reading...

Today is, of course, Thanksgiving in the US, the day we give thanks for all of our blessings and gather with family, friends, and loved ones to celebrate. I know for some of you there's not a lot to celebrate this year (well, a new president waiting in the wings certainly helps), and I'm hoping that wherever you are, you're with someone you care about and are able to have a nice meal together. (Even if watching Sarah Palin talk turkey in front of a bunch of turkeys being slaughtered turned you off eating the bird forever and ever.) And since today also marks a point in time where we feel reasonably comfortable with acknowledging the holiday season, I've decorated the joint a little bit. (I promise to take it all down promptly after Jan. 1...don't worry.)

I'd also like to take this day to personally thank each and every one of you who are regular readers. It was on Nov. 27, 2004 that I first started blogging with this lone post, never realizing how much enjoyment and fun I'd get out of typing to you each and every day. Over 2,400 posts later--and almost 428,000 visitors--there's no end in sight for me and the keyboard. Thank you all for coming along with me on this ride.

Now go take a nap before that tryptophan kicks in...and save room for another piece of pumpkin pie.

Christmas gifts for the comics loving fan in your life (part one)...

As a public service, we here at comics loving Innocent Bystander would like to offer you some holiday gift-giving suggestions for the comics loving fan in your life. (Please note these are not possible suggestions for yours truly, i.e. ME. I already own them all. Please consult my Amazon.com wishlist if your gift-giving desires are so inclined.) These are recently released books that I've enjoyed and therefore highly recommend.

Quite possibly the most influential comic book series ever published, Watchmen is now available in a brand new hardcover edition. If you're like me and find the beautiful and sumptuous DC Absolute editions a tad weighty to hold for extended reading, this is the perfect solution. The new edition ties into the upcoming (March 2009) release of Zack Snyder's film version, and reprints the digitally colored version that was done for the Absolute Watchmen edition (which is also back in print). I thoroughly enjoyed re-reading this for the umpteenth time. It really is THE book to give to your friends who don't read comics, the only problem is with this as the entry level book, they're going to have a hard time finding something to top it. It's like starting someone on a career as a drug abuser with heroin; Coke and pot aren't going to cut it after that high.

Holy Sh*t: The World's Weirdest Comic Books by Paul Gravett and Peter Stanbury certainly is reminiscent of Scott Shaw!'s "Oddball Comics," a fact the authors thankfully acknowledge inside. It's a cute little package, devoting a spread to each weird comic, which includes such timeless classics as Hansi, the Girl Who Loved the Swastika, Tod Holton: Super Green Beret, and The Great Society Comic Book. It cheats on one level in that it includes underground comix, which were deliberately designed to be weird. (In fact, in the UK the book is actually titled Tales of the Leather Nun, based on one of the comix included in here...I guess that was too kinky for the US). At $12.95 (cheaper on Amazon), it's a steal and there's enough wonky stuff here to entertain even a non-comics person (but it's not for the kiddies).

ACME Novelty Library #19 is Chris Ware's latest and I found it to be just about my favorite of the whole series. What separates this from the other volumes is Ware telling a science fiction story within the ongoing "Rusty Brown" storyline, and it's both beautiful and strange. I think Ware is incapable of telling a story that isn't dripping with melancholy--it's part of his charm, I guess--but when you couple that with a sci-fi story that's also a little scary, it's a wonderful thing. Seems that Rusty's dad wrote one--and only one--story back in the day that was printed in a science fiction mag. Ware tells it in his inimitable style. This one is also not for the kids, but it is a beautiful little story book. I can't wait to read the entire Rusty Brown storyline in one book...but that might be years off, for all I know.

There's a lovely new edition of Dan Clowes Ghost World out these days. It's a full-color hardbound that includes new covers, the original stories from Eightball, and the script for the movie, plus various and sundry other art collected for the first time in one place. Clowes' stories of Enid and Rebecca in their final days of high school are wonderful and read like a graphic novel, even if they started off as unconnected single stories. Beautifully realized as a movie, directed by Terry Zwigoff, (and earning Clowes an Oscar nomination for his script, co-written with the director), GW is still one of the indie comics' world's best offerings. (If the reduced price on Amazon seems minimal, it's because they have the list price wrong: They have it at $28.95. It's really $39.95, so the $28.79 Amazon price is more than $10.00 off the actual price of the book.)

Finally, Marvel Chronicle raises the bar for illustrated histories of comic book companies. Its format is simple: Each spread of the book is a year in Marvel's history, starting in 1939 and going all the way up to 2008. Each year is chock full of covers, art, and tidbits of what made that particular year  special. The text is written by such Bullpen stalwarts as Peter Sanderson, Tom DeFalco, and Tom Breevort, giving it that Mighty Marvel Mojo, and it's a dense, busy, and profusely illustrated full-color book, given the deluxe treatment by publisher DK Publishing in a large format, slipcased volume. Well worth the price for any hardcore Marvel fan in your household, but be forewarned, oh True Believers: for some reason, early interior pages have been re-lettered (just about all of them up into the early '60s)--and often badly. I'm not sure if it's because of bad scanning or some other reason, but they certainly didn't follow the Chip Kidd philosophy of comic book book design: no matter how bad it looks--paper grain, rips, tears, bad separations and printing--it's all part of the charm of the original product.

More holiday comic book buying hints coming soon, included French Milk, Man of Rock, and Batmanga!

The strange case of the dog who barked at everything...

A year or two ago, the building in which I live started allowing dogs. It had always kind of turned a blind eye to cats (partially because the building manager has one herself), but didn't allow the other four-legged pet persuasion. I was grateful to this. While neither a dog-lover or hater I be, the sound of a barking dog is not something I miss. I had enough of that where I lived in Pittsburgh.

But, so the story goes, a young couple moved into the building. He was in the military and deployed around the world a lot, and she lived alone while he was gone and wanted to have her dog, a Jack Russell terrier, with her. Supposedly if you have a paper signed by a doctor that states that you need your dog for health reasons, including state of mind, our building would allow it. But like everything else in this world, once we had one dog, the gates were open to more. And more. And, of course, more.

That first dog always tried to take a piece out of me every time I saw him, which turned out to be often. He lived on my floor and I had the uncanny knack for heading for the elevator around the same time he was going out for a walk or returning from one. He would always lunge at me, and although a relatively little dog, I still really didn't want to be bitten. I'm funny like that.

I think that couple and the dog moved away. At least I don't see them very often. It doesn't matter, because now I have a new dog to contend with. My neighbors a few doors down have one, and it's an older dog. This dog seems to bark at EVERYTHING. People, cars, parking meters, curbs...everything. On the days when I'm home and they're out, I can hear the dog barking, two doors down, with everything closed up. I suppose heit could be honing his karaoke skills or calling into talk radio (undoubtedly Rush Limbaugh...he looks like a Republican dog), but I doubt it.

I think older dogs are a bit like older humans. They're cranky and volatile and there's almost always a "hey you kids get off my lawn" kind of mentality, only not just reserved for those pesky children playing football in the street. This dog is like that. I do feel a bit sorry for it, but the barking is a bit much. I've gotten to the point where I refuse to ride the elevator with it, since it barks the entire time. I can tell every time they take it for a walk, because I can hear it barking in the hall when it leaves, on the street when they get outside, and again when they walk past my place.

If anything, there's a bit of a silver lining in the whole dog in the building policy, at least for the building owners. They get to charge more if you have one. There is a weight limit (I think it's less than 35 pounds), but there's also a monthly fee, like doggy rent, if you will. All I can say is if I had a dog and they charged me more for rent each month, the dog would be responsible for paying that increase. He'd have to get a job. Something simple, like delivering papers each morning, or dish-washing, or, in the case of a dog, more than likely dish-licking.

The silver lining for us tenants? Well, some people really like their doggies, so that's nice. I myself have come across a couple of dainty little piles of poop, in both the hall and elevator, but only once or twice. It's not exactly what I'd call "silver," but I am grateful there's a weight limit to how big a dog they'll allow in the building, if you know what I'm saying...

The KA-CHUNK Report: 24: Redemption

Long time readers of this blog will remember at one point I blogged incessantly about the hit TV series 24, starring Kiefer Sutherland, under the heading "The KA-CHUNK Report," a title inspired by the ticking of the clock during each time the show went to commercial break. (To correctly gauge the length and breadth of my obsession, click the "24" category on the sidebar at left to see our voluminus series of posts.) The show has effectively been off the air now for almost 2 years, hit hard by 2008's writer's strike. And when last we saw Jack Bauer and company, it was in a season mired in one of the worst storylines in the history of the show. It was almost a case of good riddance to bad rubbish.

All of that changed last night with the return of 24, in an interim made-for-TV movie, 24: Redemption, designed to bring back Jack and set the whole story up for the seventh season in January. Fox has been teasing this thing for months now, and all along I've wondered if the "Redemption" part of the title has to do with something Jack does in the course of the two-hour movie, or is it that good that the series redeems itself in the eyes of us viewers.

Actually, it's a little of both. While 24: Redemption isn't the best episode ever, it's certainly far from the worst (that dubious honor would go to what I refer to as the "Rain Man" episode in season 6, when an autistic man was used as bait to capture a terrorist...and yes, Kim Bauer in the cougar trap is a close second), and it certainly shows that the producers can tell a stand-alone story in 2 hours (like all 24 episodes, this one was told in real time), which bodes well for future feature film plans. Without giving too much away (just in case you recorded it), it's a couple of years after the close of season 6. Jack has been making his way around the world and ends up working with a friend, Carl Benton (Robert Carlyle), in Africa, at a school set up to help boys. But the small country they're in has insurgents trying to return to power, kidnapping the male youth and forcing them into being their army. Jack and his friend make a desperate attempt to get to the US Embassy in order to flee the country with the boys. But there's a catch: Following Jack around the world has been a federal subpoena for him to testify in Congress for his actions while employed by CTU, now disbanded. Jack has to make a tough decision to save the lives of the boys.

It's one of those "torn from the headlines" things, but one of the most refreshing things about Redemption is the change of scenery. Shot on location in South Africa, it marks the first time Jack Bauer has ventured out of Los Angeles in six years (except for that whole 2-year off-camera trip to China). The beauty of the natural scenery and the non-city backdrop was something much needed to rejuvenate both the show and the character. The decision to jump-start season 7 by basically adding 2 more hours to it (making this season of 24 really 26; however IMDb has it as 27 episodes on a page or two, believe it or not, certainly making this Jack Bauer's longest day) was a smart one, as was making this just Jack's show, and dropping any reference to the rest of the recurring characters (the list isn't long: most of them have been killed off).

An added bonus of the new movie was how it set up season 7. The plot line from last night's movie continues into the new season, as the fictional country, Sangala, figures into the new storyline. The new administration of President Allison Taylor (Cherry Jones) begins with her inauguration, as President Noah Daniels (Powers Boothe) leaves office and a shadowy figure, Jonas Hodges (Jon Voight), already figures prominently into the story by funding the insurgents. The great Bob Gunton also joins the cast for a run in season 7 as Ethan Kanin, part of President Taylor's cabinet (I'm guessing). There's also rumors floating around that Secret Service agent Aaron Pierce (Glen Morshower) returns for an extended run, along with Bill Buchanan (James Morrison--according to IMDb). The beloved Chloe O'Brian (Mary Lynn Rajskub) was also shown in the brief preview at the end of last night's movie, now--according to her--just a "stay-at-home mom." (Other rumors include the return of Kim Bauer (Elisha Cuthbert) in the final 8 episodes, and with Lipstick Jungle cancelled, can Kim Raver be far behind?)

Of course, the big news of season 7 is the return of Tony Almeida (Carlos Bernard) as a bad guy. Last night's preview showcased him with Jack with a startling exchange: Jack pushing Tony up against a wall and vowing "I swear to god I will kill you, and this time you'll stay dead." Beyond that Jack is back, in Washington, DC, and before a congressional hearing to testify on the nature of his "crimes." And he's soon pressed back into action with the FBI, alongside a comely new partner, Agent Renee Walker (Annie Wersching). Action and violence soon ensue in the streets of DC (LA seems to be spared this time, thank god).

If you missed it last night, 24: Redemption is out on DVD tomorrow, and the disc includes the first 17 minutes of the first episode of season 7, which won't be on the air until Sunday, January 11, 2009. We've waited this long. We can wait another 6 weeks or so.

Reading the Sunday Times...

Every once in a while, I "treat" myself to a Sunday paper. I've never been a newspaper reader. As a short guy, it's a chore to read a broadsheet-sized paper (yes, not only are my arms too short to box with God, but they're too short to read a newspaper, too). When I do decide I want a Sunday paper, my paper of choice is always the New York Times. The local San Diego paper, the Union-Tribune, is a conservative rag that occasionally publishes a story or three that are Pulitzer material. But it's a crummy paper otherwise, filled with ad circulars and a bad comics selection. I am never more acutely aware of killing trees than I am when I pick up this paper, or that other local waste of pulp, the San Diego Reader.

Today's Times had a few interesting articles, one of them about blogging. Seems there's a new wave of bloggers who advocate blogging at a snail's pace: "the new feeling: slow down, you move too fast." It postulates that popular sites such as Gawker and the Huffington Post are the Internet equivalent of fast food. It also blames sites like Flickr and Twitter for changing the way people blog, that longer, more "thoughtful" (this depends entirely on the blogger and is open for vociferous debate even then) pieces can now be summed up in 140 characters or less and "twittered," just as photos can be shared on Flickr. But it also mentions that the slow blogging movement is "something of a philosophical rebuttal" to the dynamic of bloggers (like yours truly) who blog every day. At one point it mentions "more visible bloggers, the ones with 100 to 200 readers or more," dropping off in their posting duties. Seriously? 100 to 200 is considered a lot? Because I get 300-400 a day, and next to someone like Dooce, who can whip up a frenzy with one comment about her kid or Sarah Palin, I feel like I'm living in the back of the Internet cave, only reached by people attached to a sturdy rope and with a huge flashlight, and looking for the perfect place to see what the echo (echo...echo) sounds like.

The concept of "slow blogging" is semi-appealing to me. At an early point in my less than brilliant  blogging "career,", I knew I wanted to do this every day, that having that little calendar have all the dates highlighted in one month was important to me, even if it was only in an obsessive/compulsive way. Now I tend to blog in bunches (like today), when I really feel like writing, and parcel the entries out over the next few days, usually one per day. Cheating? Yes, but I guess it's my own way of slowing down, just a little bit.

The Times Sunday Magazine focused on how and why we watch things. It featured the actress Jennifer Aniston on the cover, probably a little coup for Jen-Jen in this holiday season, giving her some kind of validity as a celebrity. But you know what? Not so much. I've always liked Aniston, even beyond the obvious male reasons for doing so, but this article makes her look like a bit of a Luddite and a conceited ditz. The 2-page photo spread introducing it has her--micro-length dress and heels and all--examing portraits of herself in some kind of museum. In the interview itself, she admits to being computer illiterate, disdaining Blackberrys and things like Facebook (we agree on the latter, at least). Oh, and if you loved the book Marly and Me, about that adorable and incorrigible Labrador, skip the movie. According to Jen, "we worked really hard to make it not just about a dog." Unlike the book, which was like, all about the dog. That was kind of the point, Jen.

Finally, an article in the Style section caught my eye, under the title "Sexy Ribbon on the Buyout Package." It purports to be about a new kind of sexual liason in the office, where it's okay to have sex with a co-worker, once you sign the papers sealing your fate to leave the company. Both the headling and the way the Times teased it on the front page made it sound like some new kind of office phenomenon, related to downsizing and the constantly-failing economy, but what it really is a cathartic love letter to a lost lover.  Once you read it, you'll realize it's just one person, writing wistfully about an office affair that ended not the way she hoped, an affair made a little simpler to navigate because the geographical proximity part of the romance was terminated along with an employee. Evidently buyouts don't save you from love.

Drive-by panhandling...

It's probably a sign of the crappy economy that people are becoming more and more creative in how they try to get money.

I've lived in San Diego for almost 10 years now and have been subjected to all kinds of...let's just call it panhandling. From the grinning, toothless guy at the end of the freeway downtown who holds up a flip-down sign that first reads, "Ain't gonna lie..." to reveal "just want a beer!" when he flips the cardboard open, to the frazzled man who asked me--twice in one day--to lend him money for a locksmith because he was from Vancouver and he had locked his keys and wallet in his car and he had to get back to Canada because of a family emergency and it was a matter of life and death, and... Dude, you tried this on me a half-hour ago. At least have the necessary cells left in your brain for some short term memory.

The other day I was walking in the teeny town I work in and a woman pulls up in a late model car. She winds down the window and motions for me to come over to the car. I'm thinking she's going to ask me for directions. Instead she says, "do you speak English?" And I say, "yeah..." And she says, "well, these days you just can't tell, know what I mean?"

Already I don't like where this is going. "Can I help you?" I ask. She comes back with, "I'm not going to lie...I'm just going to come right out and say it." Uh-oh, I think, she wants a beer, too. "Can you get me a sandwich?" she asks.

My mind is reeling. Does she mean give her money for a sandwich or go get her one? We're near the main drag in town, am I supposed to go get her something, and what exactly does she want? Turkey? Meatball sub? A burger? I look at her blankly. The car isn't brand-new, but it's no beater. I'm tempted to say, "lady, if you can afford to buy gas and drive around to do your panhandling, maybe you should be buying me a sandwich." But I don't.

I politely decline to give her any money and she drives off. I walk back to my office and start telling the story and the new guy pops up with "she stopped me the other day! And she asked me the same thing about speaking English!" But it seems she added a new wrinkle for him, pointing out that she had her leg in a cast and may have to have her foot cut off.

If she had told me that part, I would have offered her a foot-long sandwich. I'm just that kind of guy.

Friday Foto #53

Continuing our New York City series...

Back of Roseland in the theater district.

To see more of my photos, Friday or otherwise, click here!