Terminator 4: The Farminator

Hello again...it is I, the environmental watchdog alter-ego of one Josh Ruffin. My apologies for not introducing myself in more detail, but that lazy bastard is apparently too busy to even give me a name. Anyway--

For the past few months, Arnold, aka the Governator, aka FLAGNSPMATGUHM!, has surprisingly, sometimes weirdly, endeared himself to avid greeners. With plans to reduce California's carbon emissions by 25% in the next few years, and a law having already been passed doing away with plastic bags, Schwarzy has become the posterboy for the refreshing, new enlightened Republican faction.

It is thus dishearteningly noteworthy to read of his latest ambition, overturning the Williamson Act of the 1960s, a law that "helps preserve farms and ranches by allowing those who enroll in the program to have their land taxed at a rate based on actual use, not potential use. The state then compensates cities and counties for the revenue loss."

Here's the problem, in lay terms:

Say a big box store establishes a location near some privately-owned and operated farmland. As we value cheaply manufactured, Third World-produced crap more than the inherent and actual value of something like, I don't know, growing food to FEED PEOPLE, the taxes on that privately-owned land would go up, due to "potential value."

Some of the potentially affected counties house some of California's most celebrated and productive farmland.

No word yet on whether or not SkyNet is involved, but the move is just a petty scheme to try and save the state a few bucks, as the state is responsible for recompensating cities and counties for the revenue loss due to lower taxes on the land.

Credit: grist.org/

Spiderman 3: An overlong review of an overlong movie

So Spider-Man 3's opening weekend has come and gone, to the tune of over $150 million in the United States alone (that's just ticket sales, not including merchandise). There was, however, another tune playing in the background of the swirling cash vortex that is that franchise, a tune played at such a high frequency that only true fans could hear it.

[A disclaimer: though I am included, by "true fan," I am referring to those who read much more into a comic book movie than they probably should.]

That tune was the Symphony of Suck, played by a lackluster orchestra at that. Allow me to backtrack just a bit...

The first two Spidey films were nothing short of breathtaking, specifically the second. The casting of Tobey Maguire, though not my personal first choice, was at least inspired, the personal relationships were poignant and believable, and the big-screen realization of larger-than-life villains was flawless. While not an iconic moment in film history, the sight of Alfred Molina's Dr. Octopus breaking out of the hospital after realizing what kind of monster he has become, and instantaneously suffering an emotional and mental breakdown right before our eyes, was simultaneously heartbreaking and chilling.

Fast forward to Spiderman 3. I had high hopes for this one, and I wanted desperately to like it...after all, we finally have VENOM! Gonna be sweet, right? Eh...not so much. There are three main problems that plagued the film:

1. The recurring stars' lack of enthusiasm. Tobey Maguire and Kirsten Dunst have carried this franchise through two stellar films, and their chemistry (while awkward at times, due mostly to Dunst's deadpan-12-year-old-girl delivery) has been better than passable. Not so here. The relationship seems forced, and at times feels like a cold reading at an audition. The two are really just going through the motions at this point, and we're fortunate that this is the last film in the series for both of them.

2. Too many villains. Here's the primary issue: most of the supervillains in the Spiderman canon are extremely tragic. We feel for them, because they did not ask to be what they are. Perhaps they eventually fell in love with their power (Goblin, Venom), but they are all at least somewhat sympathetic. The backstory is key in understanding this concept. Granted, we had two films to lead up to Harry's transformation into Goblin. Thanks, Sam. But we get a measley ten minutes of exposition on Flint Marko, perhaps the most reluctant villain of all.

Most importantly, I have serious beef with the handling of Venom, arguably the most recognizable and loved/hated rival of Spiderman's. Raimi and friends had been teasing the unveiling of this character since the release of the last film, and that perhaps is where they shot themselves in the foot: all of the buildup occurred in the media blitz, not in the film. When it happens in the actual movie, all we are excited about is getting see Venom...we don't give a damn by this point WHY this happens to him, or the true depth of hatred he has for Peter Parker. On top of all that, he gets 20 minutes of screen time, tops, and is destroyed at the end, thus killing any further potential use for the series' most fascinating baddie.

If Raimi wanted to pack a bunch of villains in this one, he needed a better idea. How about using the opening sequences documenting the city's growing affection for Spiderman to show a montage of him defeating a number of somewhat lesser villains in quick succession? Rhino, Vulture, Electro would have all been fun to see for a few minutes, and we wouldn't be made to believe that we have to care about them at all...we'd just have to enjoy the beatdown, and watch them go to jail.

3. Too long, like this review so far.

High points? Thomas Hayden Church turns in a stellar performance as Flint Marko. The poor guy isn't given a lot to work with, but the depth of tragedy and despair that Church is able to evoke, both because of his character's daughter and reluctance to resort to criminal means, is quite astounding.

As always, the action sequences are perfect, and this installment honestly features the best of the series. The effects-laden Sandman is truly a thing to behold, and the initial battle between Goblin and Parker is riveting.

And Bruce Campbell...did I mention Bruce Campbell? Raimi has thrown him a bone in every film thus far, and he has his funniest cameo yet. If rumors are true, we could see Campbell finally get a chance to flex some serious chops as supervillain Kraven in the next film.

All in all, Spiderman 3 is nothing if not fun to watch. But we expected more...and we should have gotten it.

Paris Hilton, Mormons, and three kinds of stupid

I'm not usually one to get involved in petty celebrity news--and let's face it, saying "celebrity news" is like saying "fishnet condom" (it just doesn't matter)--but every great once in a while some prominent personality does or says something so unbelievably thick-headed, that I just have to cast my beanie into a ring that I know is already chock full of other bloggers' hats.

Paris Hilton...that name will either rivet you to the computer screen like Gary Glitter to Sesame Street, or will send you running screaming into the night. As most of you already know, the heiress (read "bony-ass zombie skank") has been sentenced by a California judge to 45 days in jail for driving on two occasions with a suspended license. Now, I can deal with that...that's just "wave at Stevie Wonder-stupid;" everyone makes absentminded mistakes.

It wasn't long, however, before she moved into the realm of desperation, asking her fans (read "short bus") to pass around a petition to relieve her of her sentence. Desperate, but understandable...no one wants to go to prison.

As more and more details come out regarding the petition, though, I get the feeling that Paris ate about three buckets a day of flaming Elmer's Glue when she was a child.

The petition states that Paris should not go to prison because of, and I quote: "the beauty and excitement that she brings to our otherwise mundane lives," and because she is "notable for her roles in...The Simple Life, and the remake of Vincent Price classic House of Wax."

No one even bothers to point out that those last two things are reasons that she, along with her executive producers, should have been sent to prison.

In any case, I should probably just act in accordance with my own verdict here and conclude by saying that Paris Hilton is like a Jehovah's Witness at 6 in the morning...ignore her, and she'll go away.

If not, release the hounds.

Because I'm interested in this crap...

WSX, an upstart professional wrestling promotion that recently landed a deal with MTV, is now in hot water with the network over a stunt performed during a scene in this week's episode; the episode in question has, incidentally, been pulled (though the series of ten taped episodes will continue to air next week).

The stunt involves one wrestler throwing a "fireball" into the face of another wrestler, the veteran and organization's champion, Vampiro. When MTV officials caught wind of the scene, it was yanked faster than (insert masturbation reference) because they were concerned that it might inspire impressionable viewers to try the stunt themselves.

Now let me make sure I understand this correctly: the network that made hundreds of millions of dollars off of a show (you know the one), two spinoffs, and subsequent two films that depicted, among other things, ass-cheeks stapled together, pouring crawfish into a grown man's diaper, sitting on a porcupine, stuffing a condom-wrapped matchbox car up someone's ass, snorting wasabe, and wrestling crocodiles, THIS network is worried about a fireball?!

I guarantee you, anyone retarded enough to attempt that stunt was probably also stupid enough to staple their butt together AFTER shoving the Micro Machine up their stink tunnel.

I say air the episode and come what may. If nothing else, this is a prime opportunity to implement Social Darwinism.

Political Wedgie

This'll be a quick one.

So finally the Democratic House has unleashed the primal, gale-force winds of its, er...non-binding opposition to Bush's troop buildup. When this issue was first brought up, I was one of the first (and many) to denounce the Democrats for their pussyfooting and noncommittal with regards to the situation. I will say, however, in defense that if the bill is passed, its going to be quite a blow to the ego and morale of Bush's administration; early speculations already label this hypothetical measure as a duly-timed force of debate that could back Republicans into a corner, making it imperative that they take a stance on the problem, a non-binding stance though it certainly may be.

In short, if this measure is passed, the fallout should be a hell of a lot of fun to watch; we've already chuckled to ourselves at the Democrats' bitching about the troop increase before and after some of them applauded ol' W at the State of the Union. Now we may experience the pleasure of witnessing the Republican party pulling its collective bunyan-ridden foot out of its mouth for the same reasons.

We are a mass of fools under the thumb of jackasses.

Various news sites and cable TV talking heads reported today that a contingent of Republican senators blocked the non-binding resolution that would have led to official debate on the subject within the Senate.

Sen. Dick Durbin of Illinois, the second-ranking Democrat, says in response, "If the Republicans want to stand by their president and his policy, they shouldn't run from this debate. If they believe we should send thousands of our young soldiers into the maws of this wretched civil war, they should at least have the courage to stand and defend their position," he said.

This is the part where I say that the Democrats need to show some chutzpah and pursue some action more definitive than a non-binding resolution. In the spirit of Capitol Hill pussyfooting, however, I will side with the lesser of two evils and follow Durbin's lead. With reference to that, check out Republican Senator Judd Gregg's answer following pressure to cut off funding and begin the withdrawal:

"We should not take action once soldiers have been sent into the field and are putting their lives at risk," he said. "We should not be saying to them through a resolution, which is nonbinding, that we don't think the mission you're on makes sense and we don't want you to do it."

Great Sauteed Meerkats, where do I start with this one? Which part of that quote is the most idiotic? The part where he says we shouldn't take action AFTER soldiers are sent into the field? How about when he makes the point about troop morale?

Well, they're equally stupid and shortsighted. Now that 21,000 more soldiers are in the field (by order of a President who chooses to ignore the opinions of 2/3 of his country), it is far beyond the time to take action. With each day that passes, the chance increases that more of our soldiers will be lost to this ridiculous affair.

It amazes me--well, not anymore, as glaring examples of it seem to keep popping up--how gullible politicians think WE ALL are. Allow me to address this next statement directly to Gregg; perhaps it will drive the point home:

NEITHER THE RESOLUTION, NOR ANY PRESSURES TO WITHDRAW FROM IRAQ ARE DIRECTED IN ANY WAY AT TROOPS. THESE PROPOSALS AND PRESSURES ARE DIRECTED AT THE ADMINISTRATION WHO PUT THEM THERE IN THE FIRST PLACE. THE TROOPS LARGELY HAVE NO SAY ABOUT WHERE THEY GO OR WHEN THEY GO THERE; THIS IS A JOB, AND THEY DO IT.

That's it; I'm done. This makes me sick.

Get loose. Footloose. Or something.

Constantly scanning news sources and electronically scribbling quasi-manifestos about the state of our nation can often get very cumbersome, not to mention quite jading. It is for that reason alone that I am forgoing the usual format, and am going to somewhat follow my father's lead in writing about...well, life. So yeah, read on.

People just don't cut loose enough; everyone is unbelievably uptight. I'm constantly watching shows or reading National Geographic articles about base jumpers, mountain climbers, kayakers (sic) and wonder why I, as well as the rest of the country, are not out doing those same things.

To this day I've never done any of those things; whether that fact is due to financial reasons or to my being a wuss is for you to decide--I'm not gonna tell you. I did, however, go to concerts.

I never went to a concert in college till my sophomore year. Beforehand, my collective concert experience was a Jars of Clay show in Nashville, an Aerosmith/Monster Magnet concert with my father (also in Nashville), and a "flashback" concert featuring Jan & Dean and The Four Tops. When I entered college, I had not been to a show in going on four years. I hadn't lost my taste for it or anything, its just something I never really thought about.

At the beginning of my sophomore year, I fell into the role of Arts & Entertainment Editor for our campus newspaper. As this was LaGrange College, my job may at first glance have been likened to sports editor at MIT. It just so happened, though, that there was a very strong contingent of advocacy for the arts at that school, and I was basically given free reign to write about whatever I wanted, to cover or review anything that struck my fancy.

As luck would have it, Flogging Molly came to Atlanta in September of that year. For the uninitiated, Flogging Molly are a traditional Irish band, but with a punk edge; the band includes tin whistles, fiddles, mandolins and accordions, but features hard-driving rhythms and electric guitar galore. Due to the miniscule amount of Scotch-Irish blood in my veins, I'm a big fan, and so headed out with my friends Libby and Danielle to cover the show.

I stayed at the back of the small venue for the two opening acts; I'd never heard them before and actually wanted to listen. But finally, when the headliners took the stage in total blackness to the sound of Joe Strummer's "Redemption Song," I plowed my way into the crowd, ready to engage in whatever might transpire; I'd never been in a mosh pit before and was experiencing feelings akin to climbing a roller coaster that was surely too high. As soon as the band kicked into the jig that was "The Likes of You Again" I was in the midst of a vortex of flying bodies, most pierced, some tattooed, all smelly. Strange then, perhaps, that I began to enjoy myself and began to alternately shove against and move with the mass, occasionally pushing upwards to heave a crowd-surfer off of my head. I gradually let go of inhibition and slept better that night.

Throughout the rest of my college years, I got into several mosh pits at Between the Buried and Me, Every Time I Die, and even got onstage at Andrew WK. All were liberating, all were some small part of an anonymous camraderie existing between the people at those concerts.

So jump off a bridge, go to a concert, get into a fight, take a cruise, swim with the sharks. Do anything that will make for a good story one day.

Or at least good blog fodder.