And...I'm done

I was originally going to title this post "Sorry, folks! Blog's closed! Moose out front should have told you!" But a Google search revealed that pretty much everyone who has ever shut down their blog ever has used that gag. So...

Anyway, for anyone still reading, this probably doesn't come as a surprise. The blog's been on life support for over a year, and aside from the odd muscle twitch here and there in the form of a post, it's pretty clear the patient isn't going to recover. So the plug's getting pulled.

I actually decided to do this a couple of years ago. I'd had a good run, but the novelty had worn off, and besides, with Twitter, why bother pounding out a 1,000 word blog post when I could just condense whatever dumb thought I wanted to express into 140 characters or less?

But I kept finding reasons to not to. If nothing else, I wanted to keep it going until the final Batman film came out (I'd link to the post, but...I mean, it's right below this one. Seriously, four blog posts used to be a week's output. Now, it's all of 2012.) In retrospect, this was a mistake, and I should have ended it before it just withered. I think I put it off for as long as I have in the hopes my enthusiasm for it might come back, but it hasn't.


I'm not completely going away. I'm still on Twitter, and because writing about horror movies is the one thing I still sort of enjoy, I'm re-opening Zombie Cinema, my horror movie blog which until recently, I hadn't posted to since 2007.

So, thanks for reading. Thanks for commenting. See you around.

Gotham's Reckoning

I opened my review of The Dark Knight with a baseball analogy, so I guess it's appropriate I do the same thing here.

Imagine watching a baseball game where one of the teams commits multiple errors on defense and the pitcher gives up hit after hit after hit. By all rights, they should lose in a blowout. But amazingly, they manage to score enough runs to not just stay in it, but ultimately win.

That's The Dark Knight Rises.

I spent a great deal--possibly even most--of The Dark Knight Rises in relative shock at how badly Christopher Nolan had bungled the movie. I mean...there's so much about this film that drove me nuts. And yet, I walked out of the theater not just satisfied with the movie on its own, but with Nolan's trilogy as a whole. To (very) loosely paraphrase a line from the end of The Dark Knight, The Dark Knight Rises isn't the ending we deserve, but it's the ending we needed.

Spoilers follow...

The Good

-- The villains. Catwoman was kind of a no-brainer, but I was surprised when I heard that Nolan was going with Bane. Of all the villains he hadn't used so far, Bane seemed like one of the least Nolan-esque. As such, it was a safe bet that Nolan would tinker with him just as much--if not more--than he did the Joker and Ra's al Ghul. And sure enough he did, but it managed to work.

Anne Hathaway was predictably great as Catwoman in what was arguably the closest thing to a villain's comic book counterpart in the entire franchise. I was pleasantly surprised at how her costume looked roughly a thousand times better on screen than it did in the photos that were released ahead of time.

-- The Miranda/Talia twist. I saw it coming a mile away, based on three things: 1) I'm familiar with the comics, so I know Ra's al Ghul has a daughter, not a son, 2) It's a rule in action/adventure movies that the hero is never allowed to have two love interests, and that one of them will always die or turn out to be evil, and 3) Stupid Internet spoilers from months ago suggested Talia would be in the film. But if I hadn't been aware of this, I imagine it would have been a pretty awesome twist.

-- The visuals. Obviously, Nolan is a fantastic director and I've seen enough of his films that I shouldn't be shocked by how well they look. But he really outdid himself here. I thought it might be a bit jarring going from Chicago standing in for Gotham City to Pittsburgh, but in this film, even more than the previous two, Gotham comes off as a living, breathing entity.

-- The last five minutes. Just fantastic. Honestly, I've been somewhat annoyed with Nolan ever since it was announced that the next Batman film will be a reboot. It takes balls the size of Texas for any director to declare that his take on Batman (or any iconic character) is so great, so definitive, there's no point in continuing it without him, and that starting over is the only option. And really, I think it would have actually been quite easy for another director and actor to replace Nolan and Bale. But I can't complain about how it all wrapped up. Gotham is safe, we finally get Robin (sort of), and Bruce Wayne gets the happy ending that he'll never get in the comics.

-- Robin. I know I just brought this up, but the scene deserves its own mention. There was no way a kid sidekick would have fit into Nolan's film universe. (Actually, I guess the concept doesn't really fit into any film universe, as Burt Ward and Chris O'Donnell were both in their 20s when they played Robin.) Nolan could have just had John Blake reveal his real name was Dick Grayson or Tim Drake. It would have mostly had the same effect, but Nolan actually going with Robin was a nice bone to throw the fans.


The Bad

-- The eight year gap. This sort of ruined the ending of The Dark Knight for me. When Batman took the fall for Dent's death and rode off into the night, the implication was that he'd still keep the whole vigilante thing going, just without the support of the police or public. Instead, he holes up in Wayne Manor and mopes around over Maggie Gyllenhaal for almost a decade? No. Fuck that. That's not who Batman is. If Rises had been set just a year or two later, it wouldn't have bugged me so much. But eight?

-- No mention of the Joker. Nolan said he wanted to be respectful of Heath Ledger's memory. Which...fair enough, I guess, but it's a pretty weird omission. It also presumably means that since Bruce never put the cowl back on, the Joker had been safely locked up for the entire eight years in Arkham. That's both really disappointing and really un-Joker-like.

-- The Dent Act. I'm not a lawyer, but since when are cities, even ones infested with masked psychos, allowed to pass their own legislation that, in all likelihood, was grossly un-Constitutional?


-- Bane's plot. So...okay. Bane and Talia want to finish what Ra's started, and destroy Gotham City. Good! That makes sense! You know what doesn't? Isolating Gotham for three months while Occupy Gotham goes apeshit crazy, then destroying it. What does that accomplish?

-- The trapped cops. The entire Gotham police force was trapped underground for three months? Yeah, they were given food and water, but still. Three months. And not only didn't they emerge as malnourished, filthy, half-crazy animals, but were mentally and physically capable of taking on Bane's army in hand-to-hand combat? If Nolan wanted to get rid of the Gotham P.D. for that long a stretch, I have to think there were a few dozen more logical directions he could have gone in.

-- Bane's voice. Supposedly, they cleaned it up after the first, largely unintelligible trailer came out. They should have done a better job.

-- Batman's voice. Still awful.



The Ugly

-- Ripping off The Dark Knight Returns. There are, like, a thousand awesome moments in Frank Miller's classic Batman story, but some of the best occur the night Batman comes out of retirement for the first time in years (much more than eight), and we get to see Gotham's stunned reaction. My favorite part is when the anchorman is relaying a bulletin about "a large Bat-like creature" being spotted, then stops and says, "You don't suppose..." But a close second is when a veteran cop and his rookie partner run into Batman, and the rookie tries to arrest Batman.

Does that scene sound familiar? It should. Nolan rips it off wholesale from The Dark Knight Returns.

I have no idea whether WB will ever get around to making a Dark Knight Returns film, but I do know that the story deserves far better than Christopher Nolan chopping it up and using it for spare parts. Other notable Batman stories had elements that popped up in the film--Knightfall and No Man's Land, chief among them. But Dark Knight Returns is borderline sacred and anything coming from it should have been nixed.

Comic Book Men: Episode 2

Thoughts:

-- I didn't notice this last week, but they've really gone out of their way to make the Walking Dead comics as prominent as possible on this show. There are lots of TPBs, single issues and action figures in most of the shots. Yay, cross promotion, I guess, but it's hard to imagine that anyone watching Comic Book Men isn't already familiar with the series. You know, the one the TV show that aired right before this episode is based on?

-- The first item this week is a Batmobile. But don't get too excited. It's just a replica of the one from the '60s TV show, albeit one signed by Adam West and Burt Ward. (Speaking of, I know the Baltimore Comic-Con doesn't really book celebrities, but I think I speak for many local geeks when I say how cool it would be to get something signed by Adam West.)

Honestly, it really doesn't do much for me. I'm not saying I wouldn't have taken it for a spin, since I obviously would have, but at the end of the day, it's still just a replica. The weird thing is, the owner wasn't even looking to sell. He just wanders in, announces he has a Batmobile, offers to let the guys drive it, and leaves. As a viewer, between this and the Bob Kane sketch from last week, I'm not sure I like all this high-end stuff just walking out of the store, leaving Walt to haggle over Mego dolls and posters. Part of the fun of Pawn Stars is seeing serious money exchange hands. And if you're going to rip off a show like Pawn Stars, fine, but you have to do it right.

-- Kevin Smith makes a "surprise" (i.e., totally planned ahead of time) call to the store. Actually, we never hear his voice, so he may not have even been on the phone. He wants to play hockey. Soon, Ming is pretending to show Bryan and Mike how to play, and Walt is pretending to yell at them for leaving the store when there are customers. Whatever. These shows are no less fake than professional wrestling.

-- Jonathan Baylis, writer of So...Buttons, walks into the store. (I wish I could claim I'm so plugged into the comic book scene that I recognized him immediately, but I'd never heard of him or his comic, and had to Google him afterwards.) I'm somewhat impressed that the show thought to bring an indie creator in, even if he is hawking a page of original art from a well-known Marvel comic, as opposed to his own stuff.

Original artwork from pretty much any DC or Marvel book is absurdly expensive, and given the age of the piece (1971) and that it's from one of the more infamously titled series in comic book history, Giant-Size Man-Thing (which will never not be funny), makes Baylis's asking price of $500 seem reasonable. Walt obviously disagrees, but by now, it's pretty well established that Walt is a cheap fuck.

But fine. Clearly Walt has no obligation to buy the artwork. But here's where he kind of pulls a dick move. After offering to sell Baylis's comic in the store, which would obviously be a huge coup for any indie comic book creator, Walt then seems to suggest a quid pro quo, where Baylis takes an astonishingly low $150 for the Man-Thing page. I mean, it's not like he threatens to withdraw the offer to sell So...Buttons if Baylis doesn't sell. But still. It's just a dick move.

-- The guys play hockey. I fast forwarded through this part.

-- The next guy is trying to sell a complete set of Crisis on Infinite Earths. And here, I call bullshit. Dude, I have a complete set of Crisis on Infinite Earths, some of the issues signed by Marv Wolfman and George Perez. The viewers shouldn't have better shit than the people who appear on this show. He wants $100 for the set of twelve issues. I've seen these comics in fifty-cent boxes at conventions, so for once, I'm on Team Walt as he makes a counter-offer of only $15. The seller also had a nice looking Batman print signed by Jim Lee that Walt also got for $15. There, the guy got hosed. I'd think that would be at least worth $50.

-- More hockey. More fast forwarding. It's nothing personal. When they do this kind of stuff on Pawn Stars, I tend to skip that, too.

-- Jason Mewes shows up. Everyone pretends to be surprised. Mewes grabs some comics and a store hoodie, and is surprised when he finds out he has to pay for them. Eventually, as basically every bit on this show tends to do, the whole thing just turns into an exercise in shitting on Ming.

-- A guy dressed like the Kingpin tries to sell his issue of Captain 3-D #1 from 1953. And I love this, because I've never heard of Captain 3-D. This is the kind of stuff you want to feature on this show, not Crisis on Infinite Earths. Walt, apparently haven fallen in love with the figure, makes his third offer of $15 in this episode alone. Mewes jumps in with an offer of $50 for all the comics the guy brought in, thwarting Walt's latest attempt at highway robbery. Eventually, they settle on $45 in store credit. Which is bullshit: if you agree to take store credit instead of cash, you ought to get a lot more. The haggling on this show is strictly bush league.

-- Last item: A supposed lightsaber hilt prop from Star Wars: Episode IV. Walt has his official Star Wars expert on hand, and from him I learn, frankly, more about the construction of lightsaber hilts than I ever wanted to. The expert quickly determines that it's not from A New Hope...but is likely from Empire Strikes Back. I'm dubious as to whether something as easy to fake as a lightsaber hilt can be authenticated in such a casual manner, but hey, he's the expert, not me.

-- Mewes skips out of Jersey without repaying Ming the money he owes him. Two episodes down, two episodes ending with Ming being abused. I'm starting to think they should just end every show with a freeze frame of Ming's crestfallen face.

Comic Book Men: Episode 1

Say what you will about the quality of comic books in the '90s during the speculator boom (and hey, I have), but the stores had personality. You could tell a lot about the owner from the way the store was decorated (were the walls covered with vintage comics or posters of Fairchild shoving her pelvis in your face?) to the back issue selection (comprehensive and reasonably priced or little more than just X-books with jacked up prices to take advantage of readers with man-crushes on Wolverine?) to what the staff wore (polos with the store logo or whatever smelled least offensive when the employee got dressed in the morning.

That's back when there were comic book stores every couple of miles. Now they're few and far between, and tragically almost all look the same. You're guaranteed to find new comics and a large graphic novel selection, but that's about it. Don't get me wrong, I like places like Big Planet and Fantom, but Laughing Ogre Comics in Fairfax is the sort of store I wish there was more of. Great layout, a variety of products for sale (specifically, toys) and just a fun atmosphere, the way a lot of stores used to be, even if the comics they were selling were crap. Even though I currently no longer read comics on a weekly basis, I get nostalgic for such things. Sadly, I won't be surprised if before too long, the only comic book store in America is called iTunes.

But for now, we do have comic book stores, and AMC and Kevin Smith came up with the bright idea of setting a reality show in one. Of course, like Pawn Stars, the show Comic Book Men so blatantly rips off that they don't even bother to hide it (not that there's anything wrong with that. If you're going to steal, steal a great idea), it's more of a "reality" show. But whatever. The important question is, is it any good?

Early reaction from the nerdery that is the internet hasn't been kind.

Which, frankly, was somewhat predictable. Comic book geeks are weird like that. We enjoy reading stories about men in spandex beating up other men in spandex, but get annoyed when such things Aren't Taken Seriously. I've never been able to figure out whether this is because we're secretly ashamed of our hobby and get annoyed when we see it portrayed in an unflattering manner or because we think that by focusing on the nerdier minutia of superheroes, the more literary stuff gets overshadowed.

I had to think about it for a while, but I ultimately decided that I dug the first episode. It wasn't perfect, and they're still figuring out how to balance the Pawn Stars-esque haggling over items, with the Pawn Stars-esque wacky staff hijinx, with the elements unique to the comic book store setting. But overall, they got off to a good start.

Thoughts:

-- The show opens with a discussion between Kevin Smith and the staff about which superheroine is the hottest. I'm not going to lie. I groaned. If the producers were looking to get serious-minded comic book fans grinding their teeth in the first two minutes, it's hard to think of a more effective strategy. (But for what it's worth, Smith had the correct answer: Zatanna.)

-- The first item of note that comes into the store is a Bob Kane sketch of Batman and Robin. And it...fucking...rocks. This is a much more promising start. After some manufactured drama about what the sketch is drawn on ("Maybe on the back is a never-discovered Bob Kane creation!") the sketch is roughly valued at $10,000. And Walt, the store manager...doesn't make an offer. What the hell? This is very un-Pawn Stars. You never see Rick lose his shit over a great item and let it walk out the door.

-- In the first of what will no doubt be many scripted bits, the staff decides to hold a competition to see who can sell the most of the store's unsold junk at a flea market. And...okay. It's fine. It fits in with the tone of the show. But still, my main complaint about Pawn Stars is how they attempt to pass off obviously pre-planned moments as spontaneous (i.e., George Stephanopoulos just happening to wander into the store) and I think it detracts from the show. I'd rather Comic Book Men not go down this same route.

-- I hate to keep bringing up Pawn Stars comparisons, but even the staff of Jay & Silent Bob's Secret Stash seem like they've been slotted into the same roles as the pawn shop employees. Walt = Rick. Bryan = The Old Man. Mike = Corey. Ming = Chumlee. Except Ming somehow comes off as even more hapless than Chumlee.

-- A Mego Six-Million Dollar Man figure, seemingly near-mint in the box, comes into the store. I don't especially like Megos or Steve Austin, and even I'm lusting after it. It's so beautiful.

The owner asks for $250, which seems more than reasonable. Walt's having none of it. After a bit of haggling, he offers $175, then balks at the owner's counter of $185. And look, I understand that this isn't the Gold & Silver Pawn Shop, which is flush with History Channel money, so they need to buy stuff as cheaply as possible. But still. It's ten fucking dollars! Eventually a deal is struck, and once the seller is gone, Walt somewhat creepily hugs the figure to his chest like it's his newborn child. Ten dollars, Walt. Come on.

-- A woman tries to sell a Chucky doll from Spencer Gifts for $400-$500. I think the words "Spencer Gifts" should automatically knock 90% off pretty much anything. How is this chain still in business, anyway? The guys wisely pass. Then they make snide comments about how weirdly affectionate she was towards it, as if Walt hadn't just been making sweet, sweet love to Steve Austin.

-- It's hard to make out much of what unwanted crap from the store is being sold at the flea market, but I can't say I'm surprised no one wanted Jericho figures or Moon Knight TPBs. Moon Knight. Geez. That's probably the poster child for comic book characters you think are pretty cool as a kid, but then you grow up and realize aside from a spiffy costume, there's not much there.

-- We get to the highlight of the episode: A good, old-fashioned geek-off. A guy brings in a vintage Dawn of the Dead poster and some lobby cards. And between the black leather jacket, blue sunglasses, chewing gum, and way more self-confidence than he should probably have, the guy comes off as a bit of a tool. He wants $1,000 for the poster and cards. Walt's not sure what to do. Would now be a good time to rip off another aspect of Pawn Stars? Yes! Walt calls in Robert Bruce, his movie expert, who astonishingly, is dressed like an even bigger tool. He actually refers to himself as a "pop-culturist," which is easily the most bullshit thing I've heard anyone say so far in 2012. And I've watched most of the GOP debates.

Robert quickly makes short work of the seller in as condescending a manner as possible. The seller, for his part, seems fairly surprised to find himself out-tooled, and leaves without selling his stuff. Walt's excited about the machismo that was just on display. I'm not sure that's the word I would have used.

--A Jack Kirby Thor poster and the comic featuring the first appearance of Blade are the final items this week. The comic, Tomb of Dracula #10, is signed on the inside by Gene Colan. Walt points out that the autograph isn't authenticated, but I feel like the bigger problem is that it's on the inside of the comic. Comics should always be signed on the cover. If you have to open a comic to see a signature, it doesn't count in my book. Anyway, Walt wants both, but is bummed he can only strike a deal for the poster for $75. I think Walt's priorities are screwed up. That's a pretty sweet bit of Kirby art.

-- Ming wins the jive flea market contest, and as a reward, gets to deep throat a hot dog as his coworkers shout gay innuendos.

Welcome to the wonderful world of comics.

Best and Worst of 2011: Movies

Best:

5) Attack the Block

I was a bit distracted in the first hour because when you see aliens attacking London, you naturally expect The Doctor to show up. But once I got over that, I really dug this film. The fact that the filmmakers were able to create such distinctive, scary aliens on what couldn't have been a huge budget, made this even more impressive.

4) X-Men: First Class

By all rights, this should have sucked. X-Men 3 was pretty awful, and no franchise has ever rebounded by going the prequel route. But First Class manages to pull it off, thanks to a surprisingly great script and some even better performances by actors who probably had better options than an X-Men film.

3) Crazy, Stupid, Love.

Wow, Ryan Gossling has an amazing body. Wait, what? Who said that? Anyway, I wish I'd seen this in a theater instead of DVD, as there's a fantastic twist (maybe the best one since The Sixth Sense) and I'm pretty sure there would have been an impressive gasp from the audience. Almost as impressive as Ryan Gossling's abs...

2) The Muppets

An unfortunate part of getting older is that fewer and fewer things can make you feel like a kid again. The Muppets succeeded beyond my wildest expectations. Seriously, it'll be virtually impossible to act like a cynical asshole for at least a little while after seeing this.

1) The Girl With the Dragon Tattoo

I thought the mystery and its resolution were a bit unsatisfying, but the characters, the acting, the directing, and even the opening credits, are all so outstanding that it's easy to overlook it. Almost as amazing is the fact that if I've historically had three turn-offs when it comes it comes to women, they're A) Tattoos, B) Body piercings and C) Emaciated bodies. Yet I found Rooney Mara's Lisbeth to be super hot. Almost as hot as Ryan Gossling.


Worst:

5) Sucker Punch

The most self-indulgent piece of crap by a director since Lady in the Water. It looks nice visually, and I guess there's a seed of a good film hidden somewhere in Sucker Punch. But it's not worth sitting through to find.

4) Green Lantern

If ever there was a superhero made for this CGI-heavy world, it's Green Lantern. This should have been two hours of pure eye candy. Unfortunately, the movie is dragged down by a dull, unimaginative script and a horribly miscast Ryan Reynolds.

3) Season of the Witch

Maybe the Nicholas Cage-iest Nicholas Cage film ever. I know the guy is bankrupt, but it can't be that bad. Just make another National Treasure film, dude.

2) Battle: Los Angeles

Occasionally, I'll be watching an otherwise crappy Syfy original movie and think, "You know, if this had a bigger budget and better actors, it might actually be pretty good." For all intents and purposes, Battle: Los Angeles is a Syfy original movie with a big budget and great actors, and yet it's still horrible. So much for that theory. It doesn't even have the simple decency to provide an actual ending.

1) Red Riding Hood

Typically, even the worst movies have some sort of redeeming quality, no matter how small. A clever line of dialogue. A cool car chase. Gratuitous nudity. Red Riding Hood manages the fairly remarkable feat of having nothing. It's an embarrassment to all involved, especially Gary Oldman, who I hope was able to buy a really nice beach house with the blood money he made from this.

Hostel: Part III

It's always a mixed blessing when a horror movie franchise transitions from theatrical releases to direct-to-DVD ones. On one hand, it's nice--most of the time--to see series continue that otherwise couldn't, given the lackluster box office take of the last installment. On the other hand, the end result is almost always a letdown.

How big of a letdown depends on the intent of the filmmakers. Are they looking to make a good film or just keep the trademark alive for the studio? Generally speaking, I think the former is usually the case, although you look at something like what the Hellraiser series became, and it's easy to cynically start to believe the latter. Unfortunately, the economic realities of making a direct-to-DVD genre film means that even when intentions are good, the final product is not.

Hostel: Part III is, for the most part, a good film in the sense that it's competently made, seamlessly fits into the series in terms of both plot and visuals, and there are a couple of neat twists. Unfortunately, it also has a distinct lack of ambition and in at least one instance, the lack of any real budget turned what could have been a great scene into a terrible one.

Spoilers follow...

The decision to move the action from Slovakia to Las Vegas wasn't a terrible one, although I think they could have squeezed at least one more film out of the original setting. The problem with the story is that it doesn't build on the really interesting mythology of the first two films. While Hostel: Part II provided more detail about the Elite Hunting organization, Part III barely makes an effort. Sure, I guess it's nice to know they have an American branch, but aside from the tattoos, there isn't much of a connection. The bit where the audience wagers on the results of the torture sessions is more silly than anything else, and seems like a bit too much of a departure from the concept of Hostel: The wealthy paying to torture and kill people for fun. Simple yet brilliant.

The death scenes were surprisingly tame. Not that they needed to be especially elaborate, although I did get a kick out of the over-the-top stuff like the cannibalism and blood-bathing scenes in Part II. Maybe I'm just jaded, but someone getting his face sliced off just doesn't do anything for me. Unfortunately, the death scene with the most potential was evidently done in by not having enough money with which to film it properly: A girl has several (presumably carnivorous) insects poured over her, and all it results in is some horrendous CGI work as the insects improbably stream into her open mouth before a fade to black. Kind of disappointing for gore aficionados. After all, you can never go wrong with someone getting eaten alive.

Hopefully, there'll be a Hostel: Part IV. There aren't many horror franchises that still have so much material left to mine three films in, but there's still a lot of life left in this one. It'll be especially nice if the filmmakers concentrate more on the story than the death scenes, especially if they don't have the money to do them well.

Script: B-
Acting: B
Gore: B+
Overall: B

The Grand...Prize...Game!

For some reason, I recently found myself thinking about this old bit on The Bozo Show called The Grand Prize Game.

If you're under 25 and/or didn't spend most of your childhood in front of the TV and require some background, The Bozo Show was a daily children's television program produced in Chicago and aired on WGN. And since most cable companies around the country carry WGN--I've never actually been able to figure that one out. I guess I could probably find out just by going to Wikipedia, but it turns out I don't care as much as I thought I did a moment ago. So never mind--every child in America had access to Bozo.

I don't remember much about the show, to be honest. They did skits and ran cartoons and all the usual kids show crap, but really, the only reason I watched was for The Grand Prize Game.

It's probably easier to show than explain, so here you go.

Okay, maybe you didn't feel like sitting through that. So basically, the game is this: A kid was put in front of six buckets, all lined up in front of him. He was given a ball, which he attempted to toss into the first bucket, then another ball into the second bucket, and so on. For each bucket he could successfully toss a ball into, he got a prize. The prizes got better as the buckets got further away, and if he could get balls in all six buckets, he got a--as Bozo would say--"crisp, new $100 bill!" (I know in the clip above, the dude in the suit says it's $50, but that episode was filmed way before my time. By the late '80s, inflation had bumped it up to $100.)

I was obsessed with the game when I was a kid. Not because I wanted to play it. Just the opposite. I was constantly cringing while watching. It seemed like an amazing amount of pressure to put a child under. Think about it. You're a kid. You're on national television. You're being asked to do something that, on the face, seems incredibly simple, but is actually pretty damn hard, with $100 on the line. Which, when you're that age, may as well be $1,000,000.

And worst of all, there were no second chances.

The Grand Prize Game was a cruel motherfucker. I mean, Bozo wasn't a total dick, so if a kid was somehow stupid or uncoordinated enough to miss the first bucket, he'd let him have a do-over. But from the second bucket on, if the kid missed, that was it. For me, with my pampered, sheltered childhood, it was a bit of an eye-opener the first few times that Bozo didn't come over and say, "Oh, so close! What do you say, folks? Should we give him one more shot?" No. You were simply handed your shitty prizes, the name of your at-home-player was read (like you gave a shit some kid you'd never met was benefiting from your hard work), and you were quickly ushered off-stage.

And they always lost. I'm pretty sure most of them didn't even make it past the third bucket. I must have watched hundreds of Grand Prize Games, and I can only remember one kid actually getting all six buckets. That kid should have been treated like a rock star. You won't ever convince me that anything Justin Bieber does is harder than winning The Grand Prize Game.

I like to believe that every kid who lost, never forgot the burning anger and humiliation at being bested by a series of buckets and a TV clown, and were able to refocus that pain into becoming a success at whatever they put their mind to. I know that if it were me, that experience would have eaten at me every...single...fucking...day. All hyperbole aside, f I'd been one of those kids, I guarantee I would have cured cancer by now.

I keep reading about Millennials and their need for constant praise and affirmation in the workplace, because as kids, they were never allowed to experience failure or criticism. I know a couple of these people. I work with a couple of these people. They're terrible.

America needs The Grand Prize Game, and its harsh, yet true lesson that life isn't fair, so get the fuck over it. Now more than ever.