Masters Of None Show Blog

Dirty Secrets: Why Radio is Dying a Slow and Painful Death Edition

2010-06-16T15:55:00.003-04:00

Dirty Secrets: Why Radio is Dying a Slow and Painful Death Edition
06/13/2010

Editor's Note - This article can be viewed also at TheBachelorGuy.com

To listen to their latest rant: Stream & Download Part 3 of a series, featuring Chris Hardwick of Nerdist.com and Jennifer Love Hewitt

Ahhh Radio. It’s theater of the mind, as they say. Radio has had a long and illustrious career. It has entertained our troops overseas. It has relayed important information in seconds rather than days. And in the past 100 years or so, it has also brought joy and music and fart noises and laser sound effects to millions of people around the world. But as Bob Dylan once said: "The times, they are a-rapidly migrating to the Internet." Or something like that.

Regular radio, or "Terrestrial Radio," as we know it is dying. Dying a slow and painful death, and has a "Do Not Resuscitate" order. As radio slowly fades into oblivion, we thought it'd be fun to kick it while it's down and let you in on some of radio's dirty little secrets. There are many more on the podcast, but here are a few of the biggies...

Voicetracking
Its been going on for over a decade now, and yet many listeners are still oblivious to the fact that your favorite DJ may very well not be in the studio when you hear him. And quite possibly may have never even stepped foot in your town.

It's the magic of technology they call "voicetracking" in the business. It allows any DJ from anywhere in the country to pre-record their bits of banter in between the songs, and make it sound like they're live in the studio. But how do they put callers on the air, or know the names of the local streets and what's happening in the community? Easy. A combination of pre-recorded callers (sometimes from local DJs that didn't get on the air), Mapquest.com and your local newspaper's website. Voicetracking is another way the corporate tightwads save money and manage to run a station with only two or three actual on-air DJs in the studio.

DJ & Radio Station Names
It's hard to decide which is worse: The names for actual radio stations themselves or the dunderheads who inhabit the airwaves. Why would anyone listen to a radio station called The End or Froggy or Jack? What kind of music might I expect Froggy to play? An endless loop of Kermit's "Rainbow Connection."

Does Jack play strictly 70's porno soundtracks? And how about the numbnuts who can't just deal with their God-given names? I guess 'Jack da Wack' sounds a lot more exciting than John D'Angelo, and 'The Jackelope' makes a better morning zoo sidekick. Then you've got the guys who are paid to be creative who can't come up with anything more than a stolen nom-de-pop-culture like Jack Daniels or George McFly. Or how about the chick that does traffic naming herself U-Turn Laverne or Helen Wheels. Most of the time, these uber-uncool nicknames are devised by out-of-touch Program Directors who always have the station's image in mind. You're not fooling anyone. Or actually, I guess you are.

The Hierarchy of Hate
While DJs all seem to be best buds on the air when they do their crossover breaks as they change shifts, all DJs secretly hate each other.

The pecking order goes like this: the morning show DJ is the top dog, making the most money and is the star of the station. Morning drive is the most important time slot as far as ratings and ad revenue goes. Playing second fiddle is the afternoon drive-time jock. This guy covers the second most important shift, the rush hour drive home. This guy hates the morning guy, because he thinks he is better and deserves to make as much if not more money. Following the afternoon guy is the night guy, usually some young, crappy-sounding 'stud' who is all about the ladies (read: 14-year-olds who call in), and hitting the nightclubs. He normally has the biggest ego because he's the one (stuck) doing all the club and bar appearances when the places don't want to pony up for the more expensive afternoon and morning guys. And his "phones are always blowing up."

After these three are the insignificant "super pleasant midday girl," the late night rookie, and the always overlooked veteran overnight guy. All of whom are jealous of, and have nothing but hatred for, the people ahead of them.

These are just a few of the reasons why radio is doomed. But don’t worry, there are always more. From preset playlists to fake prank phone calls to pointless promotional appearances and giveaways, things that won’t make you buy a car, national contesting and so much more, take a listen to the show and learn how radio really works. And why it's on life support.

Can You Hear Me Now, Motherfucker?

2009-11-10T12:17:00.005-05:00

One of these days I'll inevitably snap. I know this. The question that remains is what will do it? What will break me? There are many things that get under my skin. MANY things. However, there is nothing more toe curlingly, teeth grindingly horrible or more immediate than the dread of dealing with the customer service department with my phone/internet company. I won't name names, but let's just say their name rhymes with Furizon.

Go Fuck Yourself

I am not going to go into the boring cluster fuck that I have been fighting with them about for the past month and a half, instead I'll simply share with you, what I shared with them in their "feedback" section. Enjoy.

"You know what’s amazing? It’s amazing that Furizon can shoot a satellite into space. It can connect millions of people at the blink of an eye. It can build towers and create a massive infrastructure unparalleled to any other phone company. Yet when it comes to actual communication between the company and the customer in the form of simple customer service, Furizon is a steaming pile of donkey shit. I am not going to go specifics about the ongoing ordeals that I have gone through just in the past month with your customer service department because let’s face it- you don’t really care. I’m simply writing today to let it be known and have this nice little complaint thrown on top of the rest of the pile. As we speak, I am on hold… and have been for the past 40 minutes with your customer service department for an answer to a question that should take 30 seconds. You are a growing ulcer in the very pit of my stomach. I wish nothing but bad things on all of you and I hope one day when you’re in need of emergency help and you dial 911, a “friendly” service representative stationed in Bombay thanks you for being a valued victim, and promptly puts you on hold"

- Mike

Art, but not the one from our show

2009-11-03T23:18:00.007-05:00

Go check out our friend Matt Pleva's Art. He's the world's only killer artist and bouncer. I dig it. Click it to see the details then go to his site for more.

MADLY IN ANGER WITH CYCLING

2009-10-22T09:31:00.009-04:00

I recently bought myself a Paddy's Pub t-shirt for myself to wear for my kick ass Halloween costume of Mac from It's Always Sunny In Philadelphia. As I was browsing the other wares offered by this vendor on Amazon, I came across this little gem dandy...

Upon first look, you think, "So, it's an ugly Metallica shirt." Upon second look, you think, "Did Metallica buy the Cincinatti Bengals?" Upon third look, you may realize it's a METALLICA CYCLING JERSEY. Out of all the things that exist in this world, including Snuggies. electric scissors and newspapers, I can't think of one reason why this particular item was ever manufactured. Are there really a lot of metalhead cycling enthusiasts out there? Has James Hetfield traded cans of Coors Light for miles logged on a ten speed? If you did happen to enjoy Metallica and biking, wouldn't you go for the Ride The Lightning or And Justice For All jerseys (yes, they do exist) over the St. Anger one? Maybe the world's crappiest sport and crappiest Metallica album were destined to come together in a perfect storm of spandex.

For one reason or another, there are a lot of so-called cyclists riding around in the town where I work. Maybe it's the hills that attract them, maybe it's the lack of people likely to beat them silly. Either way, I've never seen any with the party end of a mullet flapping in the breeze beneath those stylish helmets. Come to think of it, I don't think I've ever even seen one wearing headphones. Could be for safety, could be that the pure joy of having a multitude of gears to choose from and two handlebar holding options keeps them happy as little girls, which is often apparent when they wear these types of shirts. And why would one wear a cycling jersey when not in some kind of competition situation? Do you really need to shave a millisecond off the time you leave your lonely, empty house to the time you return? Wouldn't wearing baggy and loose fitting clothing increase wind resistance, thus giving you a better workout and making you a better bike rider? It would at least make less people nauseous at the sight of your finely outlined package and slightly diminished love handles.

To make this simple, cycling is not metal. St. Anger is not a good album. Even Metallica know this, as they didn't even play one song off it at their last show I went to. The exact number of people who like both cycling and Metallica's St. Anger album is negative infinity. The fact that this item is Sold Out on Amazon will keep me awake at night. Unless they only made one. In which case, I send this message to the buyer, "Nobody believes you like Metallica, Lance Armstrong." Welcome to the velodrome.

UPDATE: This just in, now on sale at Amazon- Winger Curling Brooms, Slayer croquet mallets and Guns n Roses polo horses (with Slash tophats). Limited quantities remain. (1 each)

Jay Attempts To Get Back Into Music

2009-10-16T20:55:00.002-04:00

Mike Doughty- Sad Man Happy Man (ATO Records)

If you haven’t met yet, let me introduce you to Mike Doughty. He’s a musician, a writer, a poet, a photographer and an artist. You may remember him from his band Soul Coughing, who had a couple of alternative hits in the late 90’s, early 00’s with “Super BonBon” and “Circles.” He now goes it solo, and has released several albums of very cool music. Since I’ve been out of the music writing game for a while, I’m finding it hard to come up with those cool-music-reviewer-adjectives to describe his music, so I’ll simply keep telling you what Mike Doughty does on his new album Sad Man Happy Man. He sings the lyrics he wrote, he plays acoustic guitar, he programs drums and samples and he has a friend occasionally add some cello. He makes music that is chill, funky and fresh, all at the same time. With songs like “(I Keep On) Rising Up,” “Lord Lord Help Me Just to Rock Rock On” and “(You Should Be) Doubly (Gratified),” the theme seems to be (aside from parentheses), overcoming obstacles like breakups, drug addiction and the economy. Or at least that’s what I can cull from Doughty’s mesmerizing half-spoken, half-sung, half-rapped flow. Yes, that’s three halves, but his unique style warrants it in my book. Sad Man Happy Man is sagacious, dulcet and euphonious (words courtesy of FancyAdjectives.com). Have a listen. - Jay, Masters Of None

4 / 5 Stars

Sound Waves of Fire

2009-10-01T23:59:00.005-04:00

I met this cool cat Murphy last weekend and he showed me this thing he and his buddy made called a Reuben's Tube. I won't get into details, but you know the EQ you might have on your old school stereo? Well it's kinda like that, ONLY MADE OUT OF FIRE!

The PB&J of Christ

2009-09-24T11:55:00.006-04:00

Follow our genius pal on Twitter @LoganBlue.

Extract Review

2009-09-15T19:43:00.013-04:00

I went in to this one with little knowledge other than it was a Mike Judge film and that Jason Bateman runs an extract company. Naturally people started likening it to Office Space, which I completely agree with, if Office Space were unfunny, boring and pointless. "Anyone seen a pallet of funny around here?"

Let me put it this way, there were 8 people in the theater when the movie started. There were 3 left at the end. One left within the first 15 minutes, two left about halfway, and two more left about two-thirds of the way through. Yes, it was perfectly consistent in it's badness. Although I'm really not sure if bad is the right word. It was as if we were walking by an extract plant, stopped for a few weeks to observe what was happening (not all that much aside from an accidental de-testicling), and then continued on our merry way, completely unaffected by what we saw.

As far as I knew, this was supposed to be a comedy. I've laughed more at baptisms than I did throughout this film. Laugh count: 2 and both in the last 10 minutes. Once was at a name Ben Affleck calls someone and the other is at a bizarre and still massively insignificant twist at the end. Yes, babies getting water poured on their heads is indeed funnier. How can this be written by the same guy who brought us Office Space, Beavis & Butthead and King of the Hill? It seems impossible, especially with all the people in it who we KNOW are funny- JK Simmons, Kristen Wiig, David Koechner, Mila Kunis and the list goes on.

There isn't a whole lot more to say about this. All of the performances are bland, none of the characters are compelling, and neither is the story. Like grass, it's just there. Walk by it and don't think twice because you're really not missing anything.

1 & 1/2 out of 5 Stars

The American Job Market – As seen through the words of Ellis Boyd “Red” Redding.

2009-09-15T11:24:00.006-04:00

I’m channeling my inner Bill “The Sports Guy” Simmons today and writing about something and comparing it to the movie Shawshank Redemption. However, trust me – unlike Mr. Guy, this will be the only time I write such an essay.

I don’t care about most things. Nothing current events wise anyway. My views on many “problems” this country faces is mostly pure disdain and apathy. Mainly because I think the Power of One has been squeezed of its true meaning and a speech or a point of view will only take you so far without a little thing called money. If Gilbert made his little speech at the end of the Adams college homecoming pep rally today, Stan Gable would have just dropped a wad of cash on the crowd and said “fuck this nerd, I’m buying the beer.” I also think most of our problems as a nation have to do with the people creating problems. Protestors are the dumbest people on the planet. Anyone sitting in their living room making clever rally signs and thinking of equally clever chants and phrases to shout, swim not in my gene pool. And besides, dollars to doorbells says that 90% of those cause heads are hypocritical to the very cause they climb on their soap boxes for – but I digress.

One issue I have been entrenched in my entire life is the Job Market in this country. Finding a good job is never easy and millions of people get up every morning and loathe their commute, despise their coworkers, are nauseated by their customers, and are infuriated by their job altogether. I can speak for these poor saps. Well perhaps not me, but someone who all of us drones can relate to. Good ol’ Red. Red… A man who knows how to get things. He’ll show us the way.

There is a reason that Shawshank’s main character is Andy. It’s because he’s interesting. He rises from the ashes and beats the system. He follows the rules of prison, takes his lumps, swims through shit, and ends up sanding his own boat on some tropical beach somewhere. He’s the American Dream. He’s “The Power of One.” And he’s more fucking fictional than Tinkerbell. We are asked as moviegoers to relate to Andy. Life got you down? Dig your way out. System fucking you over? Fuck the system right back. Be a snowflake. Bullshit.

Attention : You are all Sheep

The real person you should relate to is Red. Poor, miserable Red.

Red is a cog in the wheel; nothing but a number. Shit we barely know Red’s real name. He’s a slave to the system because of a slew of poor decisions he made at a young age. This is your life. Drink it in.

“These walls are funny. First you hate 'em, then you get used to 'em. Enough time passes, you get so you depend on them. That's institutionalized.”

When you first start your career, it can have that “new job smell” when in reality, it’s denial trying to shield you from the truth – you’ll eventually hate this. You’ll hate the walls. You’ll complain, call in sick, and take personal days quicker than you can accumulate them. But then after a while, that cunt of a mistress “Responsibility” comes creeping in. Now you start to get used to the walls. The routine. The stale coffee. The mindless chatter. Meeting after meeting after desk after computer screen after cubicle after mindless fucking bullshit. By this time you and responsibility are going steady. You’ve given her your pin and just bought a malt with two straws. You now depend on the walls. If you left the confines of the walls, you’ll probably be carving “Brooks was here” somewhere before you take a little throat dangle.

Brooks' Bio - Came to Shawshank in Aught Five. Made Librarian in 1912. Hung himself because he missed a bird.

“There's not a day goes by I don't feel regret. Not because I'm in here, or because you think I should. I look back on the way I was then: a young, stupid kid who committed that terrible crime. I want to talk to him. I want to try and talk some sense to him, tell him the way things are. But I can't. That kid's long gone and this old man is all that's left. I got to live with that. Rehabilitated? It's just a bullshit word. So you go on and stamp your form, sonny, and stop wasting my time. Because to tell you the truth, I don't give a shit.”

Job interviews are parole hearings. During the first two hearings, Red was very jubilant and anxious to prove to the parole board that he was completely ready to be a free man. “Yes sir… Fully rehabilitated” This is what your first few interviews are like. Half lies, gussied up resumes, and spunky personality. Best fake foot forward. You practically beg for sweet release of your current situation because you’re sick of the walls, the routine. Time off for good behavior please… call the governor… something… help me.

Reality, however, is this third time he goes in for a parole hearing… This completely sums up my job hunt analogy. When the job hunt has you so deflated and defeated that you have nothing left to lose. Give me the job, or don’t…Whatever, just don’t blow smoke up my ass. “Where do you see yourself in five years?” – Definitely not where I saw myself five years ago. So I assume that history will repeat itself. Whose fault is that? Mine… at 18. Sure I wish I could change the past. Who doesn’t? But it’s not happening so either give me the job or leave me alone. Stamp your form, Sonny. Don’t string me along with bullshit. (By the way “Stamp your form, Sonny” is my new heading on my resume.)

"However we will keep your resume on file for any future job postings"

“One day, when I have a long gray beard and two or three marbles rollin' around upstairs, they'll let me out.”

This is what retirement must feel like, if one will be able to afford to retire. Sure when all your creative wells are dried up, your spirit is broken, and you are no longer a useful member of the machine that’s when they’ll let you out. They’ll throw an office party that no one wants to go to and give you a gold watch and expect you to LIVE IT UP! Meanwhile it will take you an hour to get from the living room to the kitchen and you will have cataracts the size of golf balls. You'll send postcards to your winter clothes in the summer time. “Wish you were here!” You will call game show offices and complain they mispronounced Notre Dame. These will be your golden years. When in reality, you’re just too old to give a shit anymore. That and you’re bat shit crazy.

"Jesus Andy, you smell like shit"

So what’s the solution? How the fuck do I know? Break out? Be like Andy and swim through shit? That’s one in a million really. Blind, stinking, luck. Most of us are too lazy to do anything like that. So fuck it. Maybe if you’re lucky, you’ll have a friend like Andy. One who hits the lottery or no matter what they do, just seem to step in shit and ends up rich for no good reason. A friend who will leave a wad of cash for you in a tin box underneath a tree. A friend who invites you to a beach somewhere in Mexico so you can help him sand his boat. I hope for such a friend. I hope to see my friend and shake his hand. I hope the Pacific is as blue as it has been in my dreams… I hope.

- Mike

Beatles Albums- Worst To First List

2009-09-11T00:28:00.005-04:00

So we never got around to posting our definitive last when we did the show last week. (LISTEN HERE) Why? Because we're lazy and stupid. After deciphering it from what we said on the show (since we all threw away our lists already), here is our ranking of the Beatles Albums in Worst to First order. (Magical Mystery Tour is technically a compilation.)

Beatles Albums- Worst To First
12. Yellow Submarine
11. Beatles For Sale
10. With The Beatles
9. Please Please Me
8. Help!
7. Let It Be
6. The White Album
5. A Hard Day’s Night
4. Rubber Soul
3. Abbey Road
2. Sgt. Pepper’s Lonely Hearts Club Band
1. Revolver

Callback

2009-09-10T11:10:00.004-04:00

Awhile back we at Masters of None did a show on the top movie characters of all time. We came up with our own top ten. While I like my list…..one character was left out! I am ticked that I forgot to mention him and now is my time to add him to the list. His name, J.W. "Grandpa" Gustafson! He was played by Burgess Meredith. He was most known for his role in the Rocky flicks and playing the Penguin in the Adam West Batman TV shows.

Now to me I love when a supporting character makes the movie. Not saying Grumpy Old Men is the best movie ever, but if you take Grandpa Gustafson character into account well you got a sweet flick. I love the fact they had an old man just telling people the way it is….yes very stereotypical but damn , his delivery was spot on. If you haven’t seen the movie well I suggest you do and just watch Meredith’s parts in the movie. I’m gonna spoil some of it for you cuz I don’t really think many people are gonna check this movie out. Plus I want to display some of his sweet quotes.

Enjoy….maybe pop some popcorn right now and read on.

Example 1
John Gustafson: Pop, I wish you'd try the low-fat bacon.
Grandpa Gustafson: Well, you can wish in one hand and crap in the other and see which gets filled first.

Example 2
Mama Ragetti: We could have retired in Hawaii.
Grandpa Gustafson: I have been to Hawaii.
Mama Ragetti: Oh yeah? Which island?
Grandpa Gustafson: Come-on-I-wanna-lay-ya.
Mama Ragetti: I find you disgusting.
Grandpa Gustafson: Well, just as long as you find me.

Example 3
Grandpa: Relax. Kids swallow quarters all the time.
Melanie: Really?
Grandpa: Sure. If she craps out two dimes and a nickel, then you can start worrying.

Example 4
Grandpa Gustafson: [after a swig of an alcoholic beverage] Breakfast.

Example 5
Grandpa Gustafson: He's taking the one eyed monster to the optometrist. Looks like Chuck's taking a skin boat to Tuna Town.

-Art

Favorite Show Formats

2009-09-08T19:22:00.001-04:00

Hey Pals,
We're coming near the end of Season 2 of Masters Of None and as we prepare for the epicness that will be Season 3, we would love your feedback on your favorite types of shows we do. Click your sweet bottom on your favorite on the poll to your right (our left).
Thanks,
MoN

Inglourious Basterds Review

2009-08-25T21:45:00.005-04:00

Inglourious Basterds
(Spoiler-Free)

A ton of buzz has been abound for a while on this one, since the earliest trailer of Brad Pitt doing his Foghorn Leghorn impression. I wasn't enthralled with it. It looked like another self-indulgent, Quentin Tarantino one-trick pony like Death Proof was. A bunch of Jewish soldiers killing and scalping Nazis? Gotcha. What else is there?

Turns out it wasn't all ultra-violence as promised by the trailer everybody was cuckoo for Cocoa Puffs about. For a man who "wants his (100) scalps" from each member of his squad, we only get to see the taking of about two. Perhaps Mr. Jolie should've told his men he wanted "lots of talking in German and French in scenes that could've been one tenth as long'." Because there was plenty of that.

We've been duped folks. Not as advertised whatsoever. Tarantino at least told us he was making a genre film with Death Proof, he failed to tell us he was doing it again with Inglourious Basterds. This is a foreign film of dual plots to take out some high ranking Nazis that come together at a movie premiere. Whether we were duped for better or for worse is up for discussion.

I enjoyed the plot, even though it wasn't what I was told it would be. The Basterds are actually only half of the equation here and Pitt is really not even the lead. Those honors would go to Christoph Waltz who plays Col. Hans Landa, a.k.a. the Jew Hunter, a subtly evil Nazi officer. Waltz plays this role to such perfection, I had to be reminded by 40 minutes of Adam Carolla gushing over him on his podcast to really understand. The German actor speaks 4 languages in this movie and is so believable in his role it is easy to gloss over his amazing performance.

On the flip side, Pitt is almost too goofy for me to get past and in my opinion, his role would've been best played by someone else. Why go for realism by casting real German and French actors to play those roles, then have Pitt play a guy with a thick Southern accent for no apparent reason? Even an incognito Mike Myers does a better job in his one scene. The rest of the actual Basterds don't get much to do or say really, aside from Eli Roth, a.k.a. the Bear Jew and B.J. Novak a.k.a. The Little Man. Roth swings a bat, like all Jewish Bears do, and B.J. Novak basically plays his oft-belittled character from The Office in the final scenes.

Tarantino orchestrates some thick, thick tension in several scenes like the French farmhouse opener, which evoked memories of the Dennis Hopper-Christopher Walken faceoff in True Romance, (also penned by QT). The basement bar and the restaurant were also white knuckle scenes, but these could've been cut down a bunch to keep the pace up. We are usually granted a satisfactory conclusion to each one, though, except for the very final scene.

The end of the film is cool, and isn't what you'll probably expect, so much credit to Quenten for that. It would've been cooler though, had it coincided with history, but arrived there through the events of the movie. And the very final scene loses a lot of it's "Whoah factor" by having the same act perpetrated earlier on.

Inglourious Basterds is worth a watch, but much like Judd Apatow's Funny People, it suffers from the self-indulgency that established writers/directors are afforded these days.

3 & 1/2 out of 5 stars
-J

Those Boards Don't Work on Water: A Back to the Future Retrospect

2009-08-20T16:00:00.001-04:00

I had never been more excited in my life and in reality I was simply staring at a large piece of concrete. However this was no ordinary piece of concrete, this was the same piece of concrete that Einstein became the world’s first time traveler. Where Michael J. Fox did an unnecessary diving roll down a mossy slope to watch himself break the sound barrier three times while a Grateful Dead mini-bus did a half gainer into a photomat not but moments later. I was in the parking lot of the Puente Hills Mall - but I would and will always refer to it as Twin Pines Mall – on a self indulgent pilgrimage I made to witness first hand, the destination where history was made and the true jumping off point for my favorite movie of all time – Back to the Future.

*Get a load of that kid's life preserver

Whenever I tell people that Back to the Future is my favorite movie, I always feel the need to preface it with… “but there’s a story.” When in reality, I feel that I should not have to explain myself. Just because within our trite conversation between shots of Jaeger at some local dive you become overly artistic and declare that your favorite movie of all time is Killing Zoe, really shouldn’t make me have to warrant an explanation of the greatest cinematic masterpiece this world has ever seen. However, I do, so I will…

THE PAST

I can’t really remember the first time I saw Part I. I assume it was on HBO one afternoon around 1986/1987. But I do remember seeing it multiple times within the next few months. Just as it does now, HBO would always beat its newest releases into the ground. I started to become fascinated with the idea of time travel, skateboarding, and cars with gull wings. Since I was about seven years old, only one of these things was accessible to me… so I asked for a skateboard for my birthday and preceded to knock out my two front teeth, thus ending my illustrious career as a skateboarder even before I could attempt to hang on to the back of a Jeep while listening to Huey Lewis in my Walkman and waving to a gym full of Jazzercising chicks.

I saw Part II with my uncle and his then girlfriend almost immediately after it came out in 1989. This would be the main reason why this would become my favorite film of all time because the thought of going to see a movie with my uncle, who was in his mid 20's and was more like an older brother, was about the coolest thing I could experience. After seeing the film, I felt like I truly took a glimpse at what the future would really be like come 2015 (like most people in the 50’s thought they knew what the 80’s would look like by virtue of Epcot Center at Disneyworld). I thought Hoverboards were actually real long after I knew that Santa wasn’t. I had already committed myself and my uncle to seeing Part III the moment it hit theaters 6 months later. I’m still intrigued with the idea of filming two sequels at the same time. A move that I’m still convinced Peter Jackson and the Wachowski Brothers borrowed from Robert Zemeckis as a way of paying homage to The Trilogy. I was hooked. I was hooked to a movie that starred Alex P. Keaton and Reverend Jim Ignatowski. Why bother apologizing for it? It’s fantastic in every which way possible. One Thanksgiving roughly around 1992 I even managed to watch all three in a row. I have since been able to pinpoint this as the reason for Thanksgiving being my favorite holiday and coincidentally the beginning of my deteriorating eyesight.

THE PRESENT

Within the past few years, I’ve come to the realization that I’ve completely run the entire emotional gamut when it comes to this movie. All except one – to completely loathe it, and, in essence, make complete and utter fun of it. I’ve posed for pictures in front of countless DeLoreans with my sunglasses up and a surprised look on my face as I check my “watch” (I rarely, if ever, wear a watch). I’ve ridden the now defunct ride at Universal Hollywood 5 times in a row, simply to try and catch every nuance of it. I’ve been a short term agitator on the BTTF.com website and chat room mainly because I was the “too cool for the room” fan who thought everyone else was a dork (and yes, I realize the incredible irony in this statement). I’ve referenced the movie in an obscure way in almost every essay I’ve ever written. I’ve argued its merits and worth with numerous film buffs who find anything not produced by a foreign filmmaker to be worthless and a waste of celluloid. I even once offered a coworker one thousand dollars to sneak me into the Universal back lot just so I could sit in the ACTUAL DeLorean from the movie… an offer that fortunately I never had to pay for (This was around the same time I was siphoning gas in LA just to get to work in the first place).

Nowadays I watch the movie whenever it’s on TBS. They have dubbed it one of “The New Classics” to which I chuckle at almost every time I see it. I still feel like I’m watching it for the first time. I still feel that the casting switch from Claudia Wells to Elisabeth Shue was unfortunate (although I did find Elisabeth quite attractive in The Saint) and I laugh along as hilarity ensues for our heroes as they race through time to stop a high school bully from prophetically gambling his way to fame and fortune.

But now I also do something else. I sit there and comment on how completely ridiculous the entire trilogy is. How almost 85% of the lines are either yelled or screamed between actors that are no farther then five feet away from each other. Chloraseptic must have been driven in by the keg to that set. How an 18 year old kid has no lingering emotional effects from being shot at multiple times by multiple people. How a scientist with multiple PhD’s can create a machine that will travel back in time, but can’t patch a hole in a gas tank. Quantum physics and the space-time continuum is one thing, rudimentary mechanics however is Sanskrit to this genius. How Doc’s calculations for when Marty is to hit the gas and catch the lightening bolt is at least a good 20 seconds off. The complete egocentric agenda Marty and Doc have by altering their lives and their lives alone rather then trying to better mankind as a whole. The previously mentioned unnecessary roll that Michael J. Fox does at the end of Part I sends me into hysterical fits every time I see it now. The whole thing is one big joke to me now… But I still love it.

What started this dive to the sarcastic for The Trilogy was an encounter that I had in college with a woman that remains a mystery to me even to this day. This was someone who planted a bad seed in my head that really rendered one third of The Trilogy completely useless and thus sent me on a downward spiral to utter ridiculousness. From my brief encounter with this woman it was like she was sent down from heaven for the sole purpose of causing me to never take anything at face value ever again. Mind-blowing does not even come close to describing this. If you’ve gotten this far, you may want to turn back… because here’s where it REALLY starts to get nerdy.

ALTERNATE 1985

At a party at my apartment, a boisterous red head and I are conversing about the normal small talk subjects that most people go through when courting one another or just drinking heavily. During which the subject of favorite movies comes up and I go into my diatribe about The Trilogy. She is surprisingly enthusiastic about The Trilogy and in the middle of us bonding and sipping cheap beer she states “You know the third one didn’t need to be made right?” I assume she just isn’t a fan of Part III to which she states: “No, I mean technically, that movie could have been over in 40 minutes… there were TWO DeLoreans”

(OK here’s where it gets deep… or confusing, depending on your point of view)

She explains further – “When Marty went back to 1885 to save Doc, he first had to uncover a DeLorean in 1955 that was already buried by Doc in 1885. When he went back to 1885, he ripped the gas line and emptied the gas tank, thus causing the car to be useless and having to have it be pushed by the train in the final sequence. However, what neither of them realized is that when Marty travels back to 1885 from 1955, there are now TWO DeLoreans. One that Marty ripped the fuel line, and one that Doc JUST BURIED not but a few months earlier to be uncovered by Marty in 1955. To rectify the situation and travel back to 1985, all they had to do was patch the gas line of the first with some tubing and siphon the gas from the buried DeLorean to the other, simply leaving a note for the 1955 counterparts to remember to fill up when found.”

An uncomfortably long moment of silence was followed up by an overly excited expletive that basically stopped the party cold. If I wasn’t a poor college kid or didn’t have a fear of commitment – I would have demanded that this woman married me. She was my personal Rosetta Stone; a redheaded goddess that pointed me into the direction of the greatest discovery of my lifetime. Never in the history of beer goggles has a woman’s reflection become that much more inviting; that fast.

*Unnecessary

Since that day, I can’t take Part III as seriously. It’s also the one I like the least because of this incredible oversight. Not only by the characters mind you, but by the creators themselves. I feel compelled to find Bob Zemeckis and ask him if he knew about this and if so, why hasn’t anyone brought it up before? How can the creator of the greatest movie trilogy leave such a glaring oversight untouched and unmentioned? After hearing his answer, I suppose I’ll become a recluse who will drink nothing but orange juice, grow a ZZ Top beard, and live in an ice shanty for the remainder of my days. My nerdiness will have become so strong and dangerous that any interaction with normal people could prove to be catastrophic to mankind.

THE FUTURE

As for where my infatuation can grow from here; is unclear. I have no plans to name my kids Jules and Verne or Marty and Jennifer for that matter (although naming them Dave and Linda would be more obscure and therefore, much cooler). I still have thoughts about purchasing a DeLorean when I can afford one. I will most likely be first one in line when Nike announces they are creating shoes with “power laces.” But I will never consider myself a complete fanatic even though I probably know more inane details about The Trilogy then anyone you’ll ever meet (For instance – Marty’s alarm clock is made by Panasonic…There is no reason for me to know this). There are people out there who create bad fan fiction about what a fourth installment would look like to them, people that name their dog Einstein or Copernicus and don’t think through the ramifications of yelling after them in a crowded park. Or even still, people that spend their entire waking moments, searching for a way to actually travel through time. I honestly will never be one of these people.

I plan on simply sharing my joy with my kids. I’ll show them The Trilogy at the same tender age that I originally saw it, and hoping that they like it even the fraction that I do. Maybe one day I’ll have a chance to ask Bob Zemeckis my question. Maybe he’ll dismiss me as another loon who just needs to get a life or give me some unsatisfying answer that will leave me more confused then before I asked. Maybe I’ll meet Michael J. Fox and ask him if he ever got my letter I wrote to him when I was 8 asking him how his newborn son Sam was. Or perhaps maybe I’ll just pine over this movie forever, only showing flashes of insanity for the subject when prodded by another. All the while secretly searching for that redhead that showed me a world I never knew and putting me on the road to subtle insanity. Roads? Where I’m going, I don’t need… Roads.

Mike doesn't forget to look at HIS watch...

2009-08-20T00:58:00.000-04:00

District 9 Vs. The Hurt Locker

2009-08-18T15:04:00.001-04:00

I finally got to see two movies I've been anticipating since we did our Summer Movie Preview podcasts way back in May, District 9 & The Hurt Locker. While both have gotten almost nothing but praise, one clearly outshined the other. (Spoiler-free)

District 9

Watching this movie is like eating a multi-course gourmet meal. It starts off great and gets better and better as the courses go on, as you cherish every damn second of it. District 9 is about aliens whose ship has come to rest above Johannesburg, South Africa. As they have tended to do in Johannesburg, the aliens are sequestered into a slum called District 9 where tension between aliens and humans have reached a boiling point over twenty plus years. A corporation called MNU has been contracted to move the aliens to a new area outside the city and the story picks up with Wikus van der Merwe, played by Sharlto Copley, the bumbling son-in-law of the boss, in charge of the move.

Going in to this, I did my best to not read too much and keep what I knew strictly to what I saw in the teaser trailer months ago. I'm glad I did. Instead of an aliens vs. humans civil war, we are treated to a multi-layered, Apartheid-meets-Kafka, buddy/action political satire, told seamlessly through narrative and documentary styles. Director Neill Blomkamp deserves all the credit in the world for putting out something this amazing and CGI dependent on a 30 million dollar budget. After hearing all the post-Comic-con buzz, I became very worried about it living up to the hype, but District 9 lives up to it and surpasses it, too.

The Hurt Locker

When compared to District 9, The Hurt Locker comes off as a one-trick pony. The movie follows three soldiers in an elite bomb disarmament unit in Baghdad and does a tremendous job of putting you smack into the middle of the action and the white-knuckle anticipation of action that these sodliers actually face every day. What it lacks though, is character development. Sure a selling point of the movie has been that since the cast is mainly unknowns, you never know who is going to get blown up next, but 30 minutes in, that's just not true, and besides, trying to guess who will bite it next does not a good film make.

The Hurt Locker feels thin to me because there really isn't much going on aside from it taking you from one situation to the next. It's almost more documentary-like in structure than District 9, without actually looking like hand-held news footage. Only one scene about halfway through really shows the three leads doing anything other than their jobs and getting into their lives back home, which doesn't lead to much sympathy for the characters. The situations are quite intense and you will find yourself gripping your armrest without knowing it several times, for instance, the sniper situation, the car bomb and suicide bomber scenes. Director Kathryn Bigelow makes you believe in these scenarios 100%, but that's really all this movie has going for it. While not bad in any way, it could've been a bit shorter and used a bit more emotion.

District 9: 4&1/2 out of 5 Stars, The Hurt Locker: 3 & 1/2 out of 5 Stars

-Jay

Helllooooo, La La La

2009-08-18T11:51:00.000-04:00

First entry for the new, official Masters Of None Podcast blog. We're doing this so we don't clog up the Simply Syndicated main page with whatever ridiculous stream-of-conscious type stuff we happen to feel like writing or posting that may or may not have anything to do with the podcasts. So here it is and here we go. Check out the show onv the Simply Syndicated podcast network if you happened to stumble upon this by accident at http://www.MastersOfNoneShow.com.
J