Critique of Pure Reason, Part VII

Do unto others as you would have them do unto you.

I think I better ask first.

Critique of Pure Reason, Part VI

A stitch in time saves nine.

How you think the first plushy hit upon the first glory hole?

The Ass-Cam

Critique of Pure Reason, Part V

Necessity is the mother of invention.

Ain't nobody need no god-damn radio, Mr. Tesla. Ain't nobody.

Critique of Pure Reason, Part IV

A bird in the hand is worth two in the bush.

There was this lady who was against banking and also interest. She had lots of friends who were makin' money off their money with various investments. She had lots of friends who were paying into IRAs and college funds and all that. But not her. She carried around all her money with her or hid it under her bed. But then one day she got mugged and they took all her money and then they got her address from her wallet and they stole the money from under her bed. Also they stole her bed. It was a real nice bed.

Critique of Pure Reason, Part III

If at first you don't succeed, try try again.

There was this dude who tried to go over Niagara falls in a barrel and live to tell the tale. His barrel broke right before he got to the falls, and he went over as just himself, you know, without the barrel. He broke seventeen bones and almost drowned and had to have prosthetic eyebrows put in because his real ones had lodged below his cheeks. So he got to tell the tale, but he didn't really quite accomplish the deed itself. So a year later he went back, and this time he accomplished the deed, only he died before he got to tell the tale.

Critique of Pure Reason, Part II

Don't judge a book by its cover.

There was this lady who loved reading. But she was really, really against being judgmental. So she would just go to the libraries and bookstores and she just started reading from the authors that started with A, moving alphabetically. By the time she was 50, she had still only got halfway through the B's, and we're talkin' an AVID reader here, people. She signed up for a book club because, you know, she loved reading, and wanted to talk to other people. But then nobody had heard about all her favorite authors like James Aberdeen and Ronald Aardwall and Samantha Adren and Judith Allers and Thurston Applequist. Hell, how was she gonna know any Thomas Wolfe or Kurt Vonnegut when she hadn't even gotten to Emily Bronte yet? Shit, she thought to herself. Shit. I guess I should've judged those books by their covers.

Critique of Pure Reason, Part I

If it ain't broken, don't fix it.

There was this dude named Thomas Pedison who was real into candles. He was just amazed by them. Every night he couldn't wait 'til it got dark, because then he'd get to light some. "They give so much light!" he would say. "They are so, so much better than, like, a torch, or just an open fire." He thought they were just the greatest thing since bread (not sliced bread, they didn't figure that one out until like 1945 or something). He also loved full moons in cloudless skies. He used to say "any more light than that is just a sin, a sin of gluttony."

Thomas Pedison never invented no damn lightbulb.

Dear /b/,

Tahnk U 4 all teh lulz.

Sincerely,
Matty Lite

Dear American Apparel website,

Just a quick line to say thanks. Thanks for the good times we had when I was lonely and the baseball game was getting kinda boring, and I had somehow got sick of the more explicit websites I so often turn to in times like these. It feels good to know that nobody had to work in a sweatshop to make those clothes which in turn made it so nobody had to get quite all the way naked to show me a good time on your internets. Thanks for having a weird and creepy guy who runs your company and makes this all so... probable (in the words of Alex Chilton).

Sincerely,
Matty Lite

French toast

Dear Burrito from Saturday afternoon,

I will be the first to admit, I went into this with some trepidation. I mean, I knew I had this empty feeling, I knew I needed something to help me feel whole again. But I've been hurt before, and consider myself in a somewhat fragile state after being run through the wringer just last night. So forgive me if I seemed less than enthusiastic when you first suggested yourself to me this evening. Please don't take it personally. As the late, great Billy Joel (wait, what's that? He's not dead? Well, you know what I mean.) once sang,

I had second thoughts at the start
I said to myself
Hold on to your heart
Now I know the [burrito] that you are
You're wonderful so far
And it's more than I hoped for

I don't care what consequence it brings
I have been a fool for lesser things
I want you so bad
I think you ought to know that
I intend to [eat] you for [about seven minutes]

Sincerely,
Matty Lite

Strange Weather

A lady was aghast at my wagging finger

I wish I could have got a picture. Some lady pulls out in a way that would have caused her car to hit my very visible, very reasonably located bike, if I hadn't foreseen her pulling out without really looking, because she was clearly in an important cell phone conversation and just looked like "the type," if you hear what I'm saying. So I slowed down just enough to make it safe but not enough that she wouldn't see what she'd done, and right as she finally noticed me (a good ten feet or so after when she would have hit me) I gave her a stone-faced finger-wag accompanied by a very subtle "no" motion of the head. Her face was priceless. Agog, aghast, a mixture of ashamed and pissed and shocked. Good thing there wasn't some old lady crossing the street in front of her, because she kept going as she craned her neck around to look at this audacious finger-waggin' guy.

See, when I'm driving a car, I'm a firm believer in using the horn as a behavioral modification device. I'm a peaceful man, but if someone cuts me off, I lay on the horn in that special way that signifies FURIOUSNESS, because how else will they even know? So on a bike I have developed a repertoire ranging from the more subtle finger-wag to the "what the fuck are you doing" shrug to the screaming flip-off. I figure the next time she is at that intersection, she will think twice. And then maybe, just maybe, she will generalize it to other intersections. Maybe somewhere down the line some kid won't get run over because of MY making a total stranger feel shocked/disgusted/ashamed/aghast! I think that is called the "butterfly effect"?

Mr. Fuji's Halloween costume ideas

Pizza Talk

Vindication; Scopitones

First, vindication from Siskel and Ebert, who loved one of my favorite movies, Revenge of the Nerds:



I found this review on accident when, starting from a recommendation for this one, I was clicking around a site full of scopitones and discovered that the cheerleaders' portion of the talent show at the end of Revenge of the Nerds is a direct adaptation of an old, kinda pornographic scopitone (NSFW, but just barely, if you really crane your neck and get close to the screen). But that scopitone, awesome as it is, is just one of many. And most have cool pop songs from France or America and scantily clad 60s-lookin' chicks. My favorite might just be this one, or wait, maybe this one, or really it might just be this one. Hell, the thing to do is probably just go waste half a day watchin'em all yourself.

Figure 12: A Scopitone machine (they were like video jukeboxes, see)

Time to update that address book again...

...because I'm changing the names of my balls for the fall. Now they shall be known, from left to right, as Lonely and Friendless. I will let you know, to the extent decorum allows, if anything should change with my balls. If you would like to subscribe to an RSS feed that will keep you up to date with the status of my balls, click here.

Mr. Fuji inadvertently makes Skelly cry by describing what happens when you die to Bunny

Two old movies I saw last night: Part 2

So after The Hustler was over I was hungry, so during the credits I made some sandwiches. Then when I was eating them the next movie started, and it was The Shootist. This was John Wayne's last movie, and it has some neat parallels between the actors and the characters. The main character, J.B. Brooks, is an old, famous outlaw who comes to Carson City to confirm with a trusted doctor that he indeed is dying of cancer. Just a few years earlier John Wayne was diagnosed with lung cancer and thought he might die (but instead he had a lung out and was fine for a few more years until it came back and got him in the stomach in the end). But besides the exact disease, the parallels are a lot cooler. J.B. Brooks wasn't an outlaw for the glory or anything, he lived by the motto "I won't be wronged, I won't be insulted, and I won't be laid a hand on. I don't do these things to other people, and I require the same from them." By all accounts John Wayne himself lived with a similar attitude (case in point: he made them change the script of this very movie so that he would get to ride his own favorite horse and so his character wouldn't shoot a dude in the back).

We don't know too much about his past, but there is a cool montage right in the beginning where acts and deeds supposedly in Brooks' past are represented by actual clips from previous John Wayne movies (I couldn't name them all, but I definitely noticed one scene from Rio Bravo). The lead female and vague romantic interest (this is an awesome aspect of the movie, that the romantic interest story is all a what-may-have-been) is played by Lauren Bacall, who in real life had watched her real husband Humphrey Bogart die of cancer. In 1976 the kinds of Westerns John Wayne had made a career with were getting to be out of style (is this even true? I'm no film scholar but it seems like it is. I mean, there were still Westerns, but I think they were getting more gritty and Clint Eastwood-y), and Wayne himself must have been feeling a bit like he outlived his time. Same with J.B. Brooks, who is surrounded during the whole movie with the beginnings of running water, electricity, and increased law and order in what used to be the wild wild west.

So J.B. goes to this wise old stuttering stammering doctor who seemed familiar, and it was because it was freakin' Jimmy freakin' Stewart.

Figure 12: Jimmy freakin' Stewart

So great old wonderful old Jimmy Stewart has to tell John Wayne how he's gonna die, but then suggests if he were a brave man he would find a cooler way to die. John Wayne takes it to heart. With the help of a young Ron Howard (you don't need me to link Ron Howard's wikipedia page, do you? I mean, come on, you know who Ron Howard is, he is in or has directed like every single movie there is) and that guy who has the Shining, he sets up an awesome way to go down in a blaze of glory.

Figure 12: That guy who has the Shining, aka Scatman Crothers

Figure 12: Not this kind of blaze of glory, but then again not too far off

All the while he is being hilariously taunted by that dude from MASH, and he also totally dresses down the father of the dude who would try to take that pebble out of that dude's hand.

Figure 12: The dude from MASH, who is freakin' hilarious in this movie

Figure 12: The dude from whose hand the dude in this movie's son would try to take a pebble

Also for good measure the producers originally didn't even want John Wayne, but rather this dude named George C. Scott, maybe you heard of him.

Figure 12: Maybe you heard of this dude

This movie is fucking brilliant. It is a great story in its own right, as nothing more than a story. The pacing is perfect, with little titles that count down from "1st day" to "6th day" or so to "last day." The humor is honest-to-god laugh-out-loud stuff, especially that dude from MASH and a lot of times the Duke himself. There is also some biting satire in the form of all the minor characters trying to make a buck off the death of a famous outlaw. But then it is also a really touching depiction of time passing one by, and of a proud and stubborn man facing his inevitable decline and death, which I can tell you is one of the saddest things. It really struck a chord with me on some of my own feelings about dying, like for instance when the Duke talks about a man's death being the most private part of his life. I mean, I cried.

You wanna cry too? Get this: the horse the Duke made them write in was his prized horse, and he wouldn't let others ride it. In this movie he gives away his horse to the young rascal Ron Howard, like he is saying, here, kid, my time's up, now you can ride my horse. And it kept its name it has in real life ("Ol' Dollor") as a character in the movie. So it was like the Duke was literally giving up his horse. It is eerie, a little, and sad, and beautiful. Go see it.

Two old movies I saw last night: Part 1

So last night I just never had that thing happen where you get sleepy. I watched all of both baseball games, then I was flippin' around the channels, and I landed on AMC for the very beginning of The Hustler. I was immediately interested because there was a guy named Fast Eddie, and living in St. Louis it would be almost impossible to avoid hearing Mike Shannon talk about Fast Eddie's Bon-Air in Alton, Illinois every single day of every single summer.

Figure 12: The most famous thing about Alton, Illinois

Well little did I know that Fast Eddies is named after Paul Newman's pool-hustlin' character. Also little did I know that Minnesota Fats (the real pool player) used to be called New York Fats until this movie came out and he adopted the name of Minnesota Fats (the character played by Jackie Gleason). And then there is the matter of the incredibly hot lead actress, Piper Laurie.

Figure 12: The incredibly hot lead actress, Piper Laurie

The great shock about this incredibly hot young woman is that she went on to play two extremely memorable roles later in her life:

Figure 12: The incredibly insane supporting actress, Piper Laurie

Figure 12: The incredibly sly supporting actress, Piper Laurie

Also for good measure there's a dude in the movie named George C. Scott, maybe you heard of him.

Figure 12: Maybe you heard of this dude

I guess what I'm trying to say was this movie was just really good. I'm not one of those guys who thinks movies are good just because they're old. In fact I think in general older movies suck compared to newer ones. So when I see an old one that is good, I am extra excited about it. I am excited about The Hustler. I think you should go see it.

P.S. My favorite line was when Paul Newman gets this faraway look in his eyes and says "I'm gonna beat that fat man."

I'm sorry but this is just so funny

Mr. Fuji, Skelly, and Bunny do a bumper for ABC Saturday Morning Cartoons

Based on the one at 1:05:

The oldest trick in the book

Please come to this if you live in St. Louis

Also we will play it again Sunday at 1:30 at the Ragtag Cinema in Columbia, MO. Why not see both?

Mr. Fuji kinda regrets asking Skelly such a personal question

No shit, Skelly. No shit.

"Pizza"

Sometimes I get into a rut of eating way too much pizza. So I didn't want to eat pizza yet again last night. It is not a taste issue, it is a principles issue. So, as often one does when one confronts a principles issue, I compromised:

• Have an old pita bread (the wheat kind called "pocket bread," not the spongy Greek kind).
  
  

  Figure 12: That kind of pita bread I am talking about
  

  
  
• Have some of that "salsa" that comes in little cans (the kind whose consistensy is homogenous and kind of like enchilada sauce, only it is tomato-based and spicy).
  
  

  Figure 12: That kind of salsa I am talking about

  
  
• Have some of that spreadable cheese I love so much.
  
  

  Figure 12: That spreadable cheese I love so much
  

  
  
• Turn on your oven to about 375-ish, about five minutes ago.
  
• Spread a wedge of that cheese on the pita.
  
• Put some fresh-ground pepper on there (it goes so good with that cheese I want them to be close together).
  
• Spread half a can or so of the salsa on there.
  
• Put as many slices as you need of delicious Provel cheese over top to cover.
  
• Sprinkle on some oregano (crush it up in your fingers as you sprinkle, so it smells good) and some, I dunno, I bet garlic powder would be good.
  
• stick in the oven until the slices of Provel look like the cheese that comes draped over the top of French onion soup (oh god damn now I am really in the mood for French onion soup), about 8 or 9 minutes, I bet.
  
• Just eat the ever-living FUCK outta that shit.

If cooked properly, this meal should cause you to fall asleep on your chair, thus missing the end of the Angels-Sox game. It's cool, that was probably the one you cared the least about anyhow, right?

Provel cheese

I was at an Italian grocery store today because a.) I got paid and b.) I wanted a salami sandwich real bad. I didn't wanna fuck around with no lettuce or tomatoes and shit, just some salami, some Miracle Whip, and some cheese of some kind. So I got me some salami and some bread like usual, and then I had to decide what cheese. You gotta understand that a.) they have like fifty kinds of damn cheese at this place and b.) I had to ask this super-hot young lady to slice it up for me. So I was a little embarassed that of all these cheeses, the one I found myself craving was fuckin' Provel. I mean, PROVEL?!?! I never even heard of Provel until I moved to St. Louis. It's sort of a real mushy, real mild white processed cheese I'd put between a.) Velveeta and b.) American in texture and kind of just neutrally cheese-like in taste. At first my only experience of Provel was of the Oh-My-God-What-The-Fuck-Is-Wrong-With-Your-Pizza-Here variety. But I gradually came to love that mushy cheese on the almost matzo-like crust of St. Louis-style pizza from places like a.) Imo's or b.) Cecil Whittaker's (who, by the way, have a fuckin' awesome logo that for some reason I totally love):

Figure 12: Cecil Whittaker's Awesome Logo

Well damned if today I just didn't want some lightly toasted Italian bread (that real buttery kind with the sesame seeds on the crust) with a slice of Provel slapped on there right when they came outta the toaster so it would mush up nice, then some salami and a slather of Miracle Whip. God damn, people. God damn. To you doubters: try it before you knock it. To you provel-lovers: I am with you. To the hot young lady at the deli counter: I love you.

Fish, meet Bunny. Bunny, meet Fish.