Football withdrawl

I've been feeling jittery these past few days. Edgy. Unnerved. Paranoid, even. It can't be a good sign when you're waiting for the Metro to arrive, and it suddenly occurs to you how easy it would be for someone to push you onto the tracks, and you take a couple of steps back as a result.

And I think I've realized what the problem is. I miss football. It's only been two weeks, but I miss it. I mean, I really miss football. And it's not even so much the actual games I miss.

It's the constant stream of news and rumors.

It's fantasy football.

It's talking football with coworkers on Monday morning instead of working.

It's ESPN essentially acting as though there are no other sports from September through January.

And now, it's waking up on Sunday morning and realizing that instead of just having to fill the hours of 9-12 by going for a run or going to Eastern Market or church or whatever, I have the entire day free. The entire day. What the hell is someone supposed to do with an entire Sunday? I think I speak for all Americans when I say that during the off-season, we might as well reduce the weekend to just Saturday, and have Sunday be a workday. This could be our chance to catch up to the Japanese. Besides, no one really needs that much free time, anyway, right? Right? Who's with me?

Now it's fast forwarding through large swathes of PTI.

Now it's obsessively checking the Post's holy trinity of The D.C. Sports Bog, NFL Insider, and Redskins Insider for any football news.

So anyway, I've come to a horrible conclusion: I can't wait until September. I can't even wait until April and the NFL draft. I need another sport to follow. Subsequently, I came to an even more horrible conclusion: with basketball and hockey seasons well underway, and my having zero interest in soccer, I'm pretty much left with only one option.

A few months ago, I made an offer to my archenemy, the sport of baseball. I pledged that I would give the sport an honest shake in exchange for an Indians victory in the World Series, allowing me to relive my childhood glee at watching Major League.

In response, baseball spit in my face and kicked me in the nuts, in the form of the Indians screwing the pooch. Worse, they lost to the Red Sox of all teams. So I figured that was that, and I'd go on hating baseball.

Since then, I've sort of softened my stance. I read Moneyball and Fantasyland and found them surprisingly engrossing. I read Arjewtino's excellent recap of his time at fantasy baseball camp. (Apparently, some NFL teams offer football fantasy camps, but they don't seem nearly as exciting. If I can't get hit by a pro linebacker going full steam, or have a starting quarterback throw Hail Marys to me until I catch one in double coverage, or go out to a strip club with Pacman and make it rain, it's not really much of an NFL fantasy.) And with the new Nationals stadium opening up and all, the stars seem aligned.

So I'm going to give baseball a try. I'm even going to give fantasy baseball a try. I bought a magazine and joined a league a couple of days ago by posing as a bored rotisserie warrior looking for an extra league just for the hell of it. Because let's be honest, even in a free league, no one wants to play with someone who knows zip about baseball. But I think I'll do fine. I'm already formulating my draft strategy. My goal is to get at least two out of Cal Ripken Jr., Mark McGuire, Reggie Jackson, or Willie Mayes. Those guys are all still playing, right?

And hey, the best part about baseball as opposed to football? No Joe Buck! It'll be awesome! I can't wait for...huh? What's that? Oh. Fuck.

Maybe I'll just follow UFC instead.

Oscar picks

Best Picture

Who will win: No Country For Old Men
Who should win: There Will Be Blood
Who shouldn't win: Michael Clayton
Who would win if we weren't bound by The Man and his crap list of nominees: The Bourne Ultimatum

Best Actor

Who will win: Daniel Day-Lewis
Who should win: Daniel Day-Lewis
Who shouldn't win: Johnny Depp
Who would win if we weren't bound by The Man and his crap list of nominees: Daniel Day-Lewis

Best Actress

Who will win: Cate Blanchette
Who should win: Laura Linney
Who shouldn't win: Marion Cotillard
Who would win if we weren't bound by The Man and his crap list of nominees: Claire Danes (Stardust)

Best Supporting Actor

Who will win: Javier Bardem
Who should win: Javier Bardem
Who shouldn't win: Tom Wilkinson
Who would win if we weren't bound by The Man and his crap list of nominees: Michael Cera (Superbad)

Best Supporting Actress

Who will win: Tilda Swinton
Who should win: Cate Blanchette
Who shouldn't win: Tilda Swinton
Who would win if we weren't bound by The Man and his crap list of nominees: Leslie Mann (Knocked Up)

Best Director

Who will win: The Coen Brothers
Who should win: The Coen Brothers
Who shouldn't win: Tony Gilroy
Who would win if we weren't bound by The Man and his crap list of nominees: The Coen Brothers

Best Animated Feature Film

Who will win: Ratatouille
Who should win: Ratatouille
Who shouldn't win: Surf's Up
Who would win if we weren't bound by The Man and his crap list of nominees: The Simpsons Movie

Best Documentary Feature

Who will win: Sicko
Who should win: Sicko
Who shouldn't win: War/Dance
Who would win if we weren't bound by The Man and his crap list of nominees: The King of Kong

Best Visual Effects

Who will win: Pirates of the Caribbean: At World's End
Who should win: Pirates of the Caribbean: At World's End
Who shouldn't win: Transformers
Who would win if we weren't bound by The Man and his crap list of nominees: 300

Best Writing (Adapted Screenplay)

Who will win: No Country For Old Men
Who should win: There Will Be Blood
Who shouldn't win: Atonement
Who would win if we weren't bound by The Man and his crap list of nominees: There Will Be Blood

Best Writing (Original Screenplay)

Who will win: Juno
Who should win: Juno
Who shouldn't win: Michael Clayton
Who would win if we weren't bound by The Man and his crap list of nominees: Superbad

Google and the freaks who use it

As before, here are more search terms that led people to my little corner of the Internets. Now with commentary and conveniently organized by how freaked out I felt when I read them. Enjoy, and try not to weep for humanity.


Not Alarming

"sean penn is a fucking monkey" (Is "monkey" a euphemism for "really overrated actor"?)

"ascots washington, d.c." (I actually have yet to ever see anyone in D.C. wearing an ascot. Which is odd, because I could easily see D.C. being the ascot capital of the world.)

"tim hasselbeck, armpit photo"

"hipster bullshit, dc" (To be fair, D.C. will always run at least a distant third behind New York and Los Angeles in hipster bullshit. But we do okay.)

"metro escalators never work"

"dane cook, ass herpes" (I get the herpes part, because that's what happens when you bang an ex-girlfriend of Derek Jeter's (see below). But how did they get on his ass?)

"Notting Hill, fanfic"

"skintern hang out"

"I slept with Derek Jeter" (I've gotten 57,893 hits off this search term alone. And that's just in the past month. Coincidentally, I've also gotten 57,893 hits from people looking for information on Valtrex.)

"how in the hell do you understand the metro bus system"

"Hitler and Dan Snyder" (That's a bit of a cheap shot, even for me. "Stalin and Dan Snyder" would have been much more apt.)

"diary of the dead fucking blows" (I wish my Diary of the Dead review had been so succinct and spot-on.)


Somewhat Alarming

"PERVERT PICTURE SWIMSUIT" (I sort of get what this person was looking for, but not really.)

"Serial Killers and licking assholes"

"how to work for the mafia" (Well, if TV, movies, and ethnic stereotypes are to be believed, just walk into any Italian restaurant, strip club, and the occasional therapist's office in New York, and you're set.)

"kid nation and herpes" (I put this in the "Somewhat Alarming" list, but for some reason, this one bothers me more than any of the others.)


Really Alarming

"sexy ten year old kid porn" (Ha! The joke was on this guy. All the sexy kid porn I post here only features children 9 and under.)

"ROOFIED COEDS" (Try and guess which area college this one came from. I think you'll be pleasantly surprised.)

"right to be raped"

"how to kill a lot of people" (Uh...maybe I should start forwarding IP addresses to the authorities. You know. Just in case.)

Justice League: The New Frontier

One of the more amusing aspects of having a blog is that I occasionally get asked to plug things in return for free stuff, tickets, and in one instance, straight-up cash. Concerts, comedy shows, an online dating site, etc. And even though I typically don't have any interest in the product, I'll sometimes do it (and do it for free), because, well, why not?

Of course, the main reason I do it for free is that one of the less amusing aspects of being an anonymous blogger is that it's impossible to actually collect anything I'm offered. I keep proposing to the marketing people who contact me that they meet me in an empty parking garage after dark so we can make the exchange, but so far, no one's gone for it. Ah, well.

Finally, though, thanks to the good people at M80 and Warner Home Video, I've been asked to advertise something that I'm actually really excited about: Justice League: The New Frontier.

Now admittedly, I haven't seen this, as it doesn't come out until next week. But I have read the comic it's adapted from, and it's great. Absolutely. Freaking. Great.

Set in the 1950s during the Cold War, New Frontier by Darwyn Cooke is one of the increasingly rare modern superhero epics that actually manages to feel epic. It's also a great superhero story for people who generally hate superheroes. It's intelligent, beautifully drawn, and doesn't require the reader to be familiar with the characters before jumping in. The year it came out, it won the Eisner Award for Best Limited Series, which, for those of you who don't speak Geek, is basically the comic book equivalent of the Oscar.

So buy it, Netflix it, whatever. Regardless of whether you're a comic book nerd or shudder at the very thought of grown men reading about superheroes, I think you'll enjoy this. In fact, if you don't, I guarantee that I'll personally refund your money*. How many people are willing to make an offer like that about a movie they haven't even seen? Now you can watch with complete confidence.

* Only if you're willing to meet me in a parking garage. After dark. In Southeast D.C. And I may not show up the first couple of times, so you'll have to keep coming out.

Hey, I never said I'd make it easy.

You will be furious at fortune cookie and write blog post

When you're a kid, fortune cookies are the best thing in the world. You don't really even care about the cookie. It's all about reading the fortune and searching for hidden meaning behind it.

But once you get past the age of 12, all the mystery and entertainment value of fortune cookies pretty much evaporate, as you realize that it's all just a big sham. That they have no mystical power whatsoever, and that you're getting the exact same fortune that dozens of other people have.

So as an adult, you eat the cookie, you glance at the fortune and maybe get a cheap laugh by doing the old gag of adding "in bed" to the end of whatever's written, and you toss it aside. No big deal.

Still, I expect something better than this:

The Golden Rule? That's considered a fortune?

This "fortune" demonstrates a shocking lack of effort and originality. It's not like I expect a wizened Chinese philosopher to be in the back of the restaurant cranking these out by hand, but come on. How about just a little commitment to your job?

I mean, check out the fortunes here. These guys are really on the ball:

Grand adventures await those who are willing to turn the corner

Your everlasting patience will be rewarded sooner or later

It is much wiser to take advice than to give it

If you continually give, you will continually have

If you want the rainbow, you must put up with the rain

See? Those are some pretty hardcore fortunes. Well, that last one is actually a Dolly Parton quote. But fuck it, it's profound.

But somewhere right now, at whatever fortune cookie company produced the abomination I got last night, there's some slacker who probably just scours the Internet for any random phrase that catches his eye, and copies them down for inclusion in cookies. This person's handiwork is likely floating around out there right now, containing fortunes like, "An apple a day keeps the doctor away." Or, "There is nothing to fear but fear itself." Or, "May the Force be with you." This person needs to be fired, as do his fellow fortune cookie slackers.

Coming up with good fortune cookie fortunes may not be a glamorous job, but it's one that needs to be done and done right. Fortunes like the one I got make a mockery out of the entire industry.

I will admit, though, that the Golden Rule does lend itself really, really well to the "in bed" gag: "Do onto others as you wish others to do onto you in bed." Funny and great advice.

What the hell, Romero?

Night of the Living Dead: Both the best and the most important horror film ever made.

Dawn of the Dead: Arguably the second best horror film ever made.

Day of the Dead: Meh.

Land of the Dead: Romero's triumphant comeback.

Diary of the Dead: Awful. Terrible. Absolutely horrible.

It's hard to overstate how disappointing this was. The release of a new Romero zombie film should be like Christmas. Diary of the Dead was like a Christmas where your house catches on fire and all your presents and family members burn up while you can only watch helplessly from outside.

The acting was weak. The dialogue was lame. (Especially the melodramatic voice-overs, which is a device that is typically used only by the hackiest of hack writers and directors in only the worst of low-budget horror films.) The gore was good, but there wasn't nearly enough of it.

The thing that really does the movie in, though, is the gimmick of the film being shot from the POV of the cameras the characters are carrying. It worked in Cloverfield, because they didn't really draw attention to it, so you just sort of accepted that the guy would keep filming, regardless of the giant monster trying to kill them. In Diary of the Dead, Romero never stops drawing attention to the guy holding the camera. There comes a point--possibly the hundredth time the other characters beg him to put the camera down and do something more useful--where you start praying the zombies eat both him and the camera.

To be fair, it's not all bad. The climax is pretty good. The Amish farmhouse part is genius. And the requisite Romero social commentary was present, though somewhat confusing. (Apparently, YouTube and blogs are bad. Or good. Or something. I don't know. But the government and the media are definitely bad. He also wants us to know that zombies shouldn't run. Take that, Zack Snyder!)

I've read a lot of interviews with Romero about this film, and even though it's not like he'll ever read this, I almost feel bad trashing the film, because he seems so passionate about it. Land of the Dead was supposed to be his big studio sell-out movie, and Diary of the Dead was his back-to-basics independent film. Except that Land of the Dead was much, much better. I really hope he sells out again.

Metro math

Metro plans to install large flat-screen video monitors to carry system information and advertising in rail cars, train stations, buses and bus shelters in an effort to improve customer communication and earn much-needed revenue, officials said yesterday. (Washington Post)

Customer communication is a trend that Metro's never really shown much interest in, so bully for them, I guess. But revenue? Is this going to be like those stupid in-tunnel ads along the Red Line? At one point, those were going to be the wave of the future, too. You know, the ones no one pays any attention to, and are blank half the time, anyway?

Also, considering that Metro can't even keep escalators and elevators working properly, I'm a little skeptical about their ability to keep any sort of recent technology in constant working order. I predict the sight of broken monitors along the Metro system will be a fairly common occurrence over the next few years.

Here's the thing that really shakes my faith in this plan, though:

The proposal is designed for a contractor to cover all costs, including the screens, technology and installation, officials said. Metro projects it could bring in $16 million to $178 million during the length of the contract.

$16 million to $178 million???

What the fuck kind of estimate is that? In what industry (other than D.C. public transportation, apparently) can someone suggest there might be a $162 million gray area in terms of potential revenue, and not be immediately fired? The only possible way this could be any vaguer is if Metro just said, "Money," when asked what the project could bring in.

Did actual grown-ups work on this? With college degrees and everything?

Board member Jim Graham, who represents the District and cast the dissenting vote, said he was more troubled by the larger issue of how much advertising should be in the Metrorail system. As he watched a demonstration that showed train arrival times on one part of a screen and a movie preview for "Terminator 2" on another section, Graham said he was disturbed by the movie scenes of "skulls and people's heads going through glass."

Of the hundreds of movies that have come out in the past decade, they're using Terminator 2 as the demo? I was just kidding before, but Metro really did outsource this thing to D.C. public school students, didn't they?

Oh, well. I guess if they aren't going to learn reading or math or history, they might as well learn about shady contracting. That, combined with their proficiency with firearms, will take them far in life.

Geekgasm

Indiana Jones and the Kingdom of the Crystal Skull trailer.

There's not really enough to make a judgment one way or the other, but I defy you to listen to that theme and not get excited.

Please don't fuck this up, George Lucas. Yeah, I'm singling you out. I have confidence in Ford and Spielberg. But you?

Please don't fuck this up, George Lucas.

Steve Gerber

On account of my preference for DC over Marvel, I never read most of the stuff by Steve Gerber, who died a couple of days ago. But it's hard to read this, and not be impressed by the man's career.

Quoting Warren Ellis is so 2001, but he put it best: "Steve Gerber was a giant. Is a giant."

Two things I have read and can recommend if you're in the mood to have your mind blown (and really, who isn't?):

Essential Howard the Duck

Yeah, yeah, I know. But forget about the fucking movie. Howard the Duck is to Howard the Duck what Batman & Robin is to Batman.

Nevada

I can't do this justice, so I'll let Borders.com do it for me:

Nevada, an exotic dancer who works with her onstage partner and offstage pet, an ostrich named Bolero, is worried that she's about to lose her job at Las Vegas's Nile Hotel. But that's the least of her troubles, as she is drawn into events involving dismembered corpses, accidental time-travel, a drunken, homeless visionary, and a would-be Godfather whose head is in a very strange place.

Talk about a book that sells itself.

A vote for Obama is a vote for God. Sorta.

I think we can all agree that God would make a kick-ass president. Not Old Testament God. He'd be a jerk. And probably a Republican. But New Testament God would be a great president.

So I can't be the only one who saw this banner on Obama's website:



and immediately thought of this:

There's no way that wasn't intentional, either. Well played, sir.

Guest blogger Dan Snyder

Yesterday, I announced that I've selected Jim Zorn to be the new head coach of the Washington Redskins.

Now, I know how you probably feel about this, because ever since the news broke, I've received hundreds of emails from concerned fans.

Here's a small sampling:

"Are you sure this is a good idea?"

"Wait, it took you over a month to interview all those coaches, and the best one you could find is a guy who's never even been a coordinator? Really?"

"What the hell are you thinking, you retarded fucking midget? Do you actively try and think of ways to fuck up this once-great team? I hope the Redskins go 0-16 next season and you lose all your money and have to give blow jobs in some back alley just to scrape by, you fucking jackass."

I'm not going to lie. That last one hurt. Especially the midget part. You know, if this were Japan, I'd be considered a tall man.

But relax, kids. I know what I'm doing.

Sure, I could have hired Gregg Williams, who all the players liked and would have kept the sense of continuity that just a few weeks ago, I said was vital.

I could have kept throwing money at Bill Cowher, the best available head coach out there, until he said yes.

I could have gone with Russ Grimm, who has a history--nay, a legacy--with the Redskins, and over fifteen years of coaching experience.

I could have hired Steve Spagnuolo, whose defense just won the freaking Super Bowl.

But I went with Jim Zorn. Why? Three reasons.

First...well, everyone who was any good turned me down. Apparently, I have something of a reputation in the NFL for being a suffocating micro-manager. I asked Vinny if there was any truth to this, but he assured me there wasn't. Good old Vinny. I can always count on him to be straight with me. Afterwards, I gave him a treat. I love seeing his tail wag. Yup. Vinny has a tail.

Second, I got him cheap. I mean, really cheap. During contract discussions, his agent tried negotiating, and I said, "Dude, we're talking about fucking Jim Zorn. He should be paying me to work here!" So don't pay attention to whatever salary info you see in the papers. That's just for the sake of his pride. I don't want to get into exact figures, but let's just say there are high school coaches making more than he is.

Third, if he doesn't work out, I can always fire him after next season. Or during. Whatever. My philosophy has always been that coaches are like condoms. Once they're no longer of any use, they can, and indeed must, be quickly disposed of.

So please, stop your whining, will you? Just sit back, relax, and enjoy the upcoming season. The Zorn era has begun!

Oh, I guess now's a good time to mention that even though I got Zorn on the cheap, we will be raising ticket prices yet again. Honestly, it's not something we need to do. It's just kind of a hobby of mine that gets me ever closer to my dream of the day where only the very wealthy can afford to attend games. Fuck you, Redskins fans!

Heh. No, just kidding. I love you guys.

(No, seriously. Fuck you.)

Mr. Snyder

Freakout

Like most people, I've seen those Burger King commercials featuring the customers on hidden camera who are shocked upon being told that the Whopper has been discontinued. And like most people, my reaction was sort of a combination of amusement and horror. Mostly horror. Especially that one commercial with the "Go back there and get me a Whopper!" guy, who looked like he was about to go out to his car and get his rifle if he didn't get his Whopper right that fucking second.

Anyway, something happened that made me reconsider those commercials, and I've now decided that the customers' responses were totally reasonable. Even that one guy's. Not because the Whopper is worth getting worked up over. It isn't. The Whopper is a soggy, disgusting mess, barely fit for animals to eat. But it's not really about the Whopper.

See, it's not that these people were really upset at the idea of not getting their sandwich. It's that they had put their faith in what they believed to be an incontrovertible truth: that Burger King would have Whoppers. And when slapped in the face with the realization that that truth wasn't so incontrovertible after all, they didn't know how to react.

It's really not much different than, say, waking up in the middle of the night and seeing the sun out. Smaller scale, sure. But basically the same principle.

I came to this realization yesterday, when I went to the bank to deposit a check, getting about half of it back as cash. The transaction was going fine, right up until she handed me my money and driver's license back, but no receipt for the deposit.

Now, it's not like I need a receipt. I don't save them. I just toss them out after leaving the bank. But by God, I'm entitled to one. So I asked the teller about it, and she just smiled politely and said, "Oh, you don't get a receipt."

Right then and there, I knew what those Burger King people had experienced. It wasn't just the fact that I wasn't getting a receipt. It was the complete and utter certainty with which she said I wasn't getting a receipt. Almost like I was dumb for even bringing it up. And for just half-a-second, I found myself wondering, "Wait...do you get a receipt when you make a deposit? Or did I just imagine that part?"

My mind was blown. I was having, as Burger King so eloquently put it, a freakout.

Granted, as freakouts go, mine was a mild one. There was no shouting. At no point did I say, "Go back there and get me a receipt!" And the back and forth between me and the teller as I convinced her that indeed, yes, when you make a deposit, you get a receipt, only lasted about thirty seconds. But that's thirty seconds more than it should have.

If that guy from the commercial had gotten his gun and had shot up the Burger King and I'd been on the jury? He'd be a free man. You shouldn't screw with people's perceptions of reality. It can only lead to bad things. Funny commercials, yes. But also bad things.

Santa Snyder

Mr. Snyder? Dan? As you may or may not be aware, you didn't get me anything for Christmas last year. I know this was probably just an oversight, since you're a very busy man and had a lot to deal with around that time, what with Sean Taylor and trying to make the playoffs and all. So I understand.

But the bottom line is, you still owe me a present. And this is what I want:

Dan, forget Meeks. Forget Mooch. Forget Grimm. Forget Fassel. (Seriously, forget Fassel. What the fuck you were thinking?) Forget even Cowher. I don't know why everyone's so high on him, anyway. Yeah, he won a Super Bowl. It only took him 14 years. I could coach a team to a Super Bowl win if I had 14 years. Steve Spagnuolo is your man.

Dan, the Giants defense sacked Brady five times on Sunday. They only allowed 45 rushing yards. They held Brady to 249 passing yards. Now, I'm something of a student of Dan Snyder. As such, I like to think that I know you pretty well. And so I know that when you were watching the Giants defense just pulverize the Patriots, you were sexually aroused at the idea of the man responsible for that being the next head coach of the Washington Redskins. I know you were, Dan.

Dan, it's really simple. When you meet with Spagnuolo today, just do what you do best. Throw money at him. Keep throwing money at him until he takes the job. You know how you lie awake nights, thinking about how inherently unfair and communist the concept of a salary cap is? How you have that fantasy of going to the Pro Bowl and just shouting to the players, "You're all coming home with me!" Well, as you know, there is no salary cap when it comes to coaches. So take all that extra money you can't spend on players, and give it to Spagnuolo.

Dan, you do this one thing for me, you get me this one belated Christmas present, and I will never ask you for anything ever again. Never. I promise.

Well...okay, that's not true. I also have a birthday coming up. And I know I'm probably just being greedy now, but this would go great with my new Steve Spagnuolo:

What do you say, Dan? Can I have him? Please???

This Super Bowl Sunday, choose to be an American

For the past several years, the term "un-American" has been tossed around so much (typically as a slur against anyone opposed to the war) that it's lost most of its meaning. And in general, it's obviously foolish to make such sweeping generalizations. Yet that's what I'm going to do right now.

If you only watch the Super Bowl for the commercials, you are profoundly un-American. In fact, short of wearing an, "I Heart Osama" T-shirt, I can't think of anything less American.

Look, I understand people not liking football. I mean, I don't understand it, but I acknowledge that such people do exist. So I guess I can see how a certain percentage of the country can't or won't appreciate the importance of the Super Bowl. Especially this one, where either way, history will be made tonight. That either the Patriots will complete a perfect season, something unlikely to be repeated for years, or else the Giants will pull off the most significant upset in the history of sports.

To those people, I would say, don't watch the game. Just find something better to do tonight, while you wait for House to come on.

Because regardless of the hype, the truth is, the commercials just aren't worth it. Some will try and be funny and fail miserable. Most will be mildly amusing, at best. Maybe one or two will actually be laugh-out-loud funny. However, A) They'll be posted to YouTube within five minutes, so you can watch them at your leisure, and B) No matter how funny it might be, it's still a fucking commercial*.

If you feel you absolutely have to watch for the commercials, though, just promise me one thing. That tomorrow, when your coworkers are discussing the game, you won't be the one who inevitably interupts the conversation and asks, "And hey, how about that Doritos commercial? Was that funny or what?" Because people will hate you for it.

* The only exception to this rule are commercials with monkeys. Because monkeys elevate commercials to art. Observe:

Geekgasm

They've been trying to get a "Greatest American Hero" up for, well, longer than Alan Tudyk's been talking up a "Serenity" sequel. Today, we got confirmed that the film version of the classic 80s TV series is finally on track for a July start. (Moviehole)

I loved this show when I was a kid. Loved it. But when I watched the DVDs not too long ago, I really couldn't figure out why.

Sure, the plot of the show was great. Even now, seeing Ralph trying to fly never gets old, and Robert Culp was awesome, as Robert Culp often is. However, once you get past the basic premise, there was a distinct lack of imagination. Almost every episode, they were fighting mobsters. Or Russians. Or mobsters. Or Russians. Or mobsters. Or Russians.

Every now and then, there would be a criminal unaffiliated with the mob, or a spy of another nationality than Russian, but they were few and far between. Except for maybe one or two episodes, it apparently never occurred to anyone on the show that a superhero should be fighting supervillains. Instead, we just got a lot of bad fake Italian and Russian accents. But if the plot synopsis of the film is to be believed, though, this mistake is being rectified.

So I'm really excited. And with this news, the fact that "Believe It or Not" by Joey Scarbury, the greatest (Ha! Get it?) theme song for a TV show ever, is in constant rotation on my iPod, suddenly becomes a lot less sad.

Okay, not really. But who cares? Believe it or not, I'm walking on air!