"This Is It"

(Note: If you don’t know, “Michael Jackson’s This Is It” is a collection of footage shot on the set of a tour that Michael was preparing for just before his death.)

In my life long quest to always be a contrarian, there have been a few times when I just couldn’t make myself stay away from something. “Napoleon Dynamite” is a great example. “Dynamite” got so popular so fast that I absolutely refused to see it and called everyone who did see it a sheep. But curiosity got the better of me and I eventually rented it, loved it, and secretly hate myself every time I watch and enjoy the Jamiroquai “Canned Heat” scene. But what the heck am I going to do? You can’t fight a power like “Napoleon.” So I sacrifice my integrity and reference Uncle Rico whenever the opportunity presents itself.

To be honest, my “This Has Become So Popular That I May Have to Abandon It” meter is going crazy with this Michael Jackson business. I just haven’t been able to follow through. It’s like Spiderman feeling his Spidey-sense going street rat crazy, knowing that The Green Goblin is standing right behind him with an arm full of pumpkin bombs, and doing nothing to stop him. (Nerds unite!) I know, I know, Michael was always insanely popular. But not Death Popular. Death Popular is a whole different kind of thing. Death Popular allows people to do things like sell Rest In Peace t-shirts at Walmart, print the person’s likeness on a backpack, and put out movies about said dead person in hasty fashion. Usually Death Popular sends me running away from the person’s legacy like Will Ferrell streaking through the quad. It took me 10 years to get back on board with Nirvana after Kurt Cobain’s death and I stinking LOVED Nirvana.

Suffice it to say, it was a weird place I found myself in as the credits rolled for “Michael Jackson’s This Is It.” I kind of hated myself for following along with approximately 50 million people who watched this movie over the last week. But there I sat, having been riveted by what the last two hours brought to the screen.

“This Is It” is an incredible look into the mind of a legend that I don’t think anyone really understood. Here’s this guy who absolutely captivated the freaking world for 40 years but he was such a weirdo that most of us aren’t sure how to handle his legacy. On the one hand he was possibly if not probably the greatest entertainer the world has ever seen. His genius is undeniable even to a wannabe writer who knows nothing about dance. On the other hand, you get the feeling that you are watching a man who is only a man in the physical sense. His actions here are often that of a 7 year old child. He says things that are educated in a sense but come across as so infantile that I seriously have to remind myself that it was Michael Jackson speaking, not a kid saying a prayer during an Upward flag football practice. At one point during rehearsals for “Beat It” he literally lays stomach-down on the ground and pounds his fists and stomps his feet like a kid throwing a temper tantrum.

The choreography and the artistry displayed here are, obviously, amazing. The precision with which the man worked is something special and even the band and members of the crew comment on how rare it is for an artist of Jackson’s caliber to really care about the tiny details of a tour. Each segment of the film covers a different Jackson song and each one is engrossing. The arrangement on “The Way You Make Me Feel” (possibly my favorite Jackson cut) is incredible. There is a “Bad/They Don’t Really Care About Us” medley that, when combined with the green screen effects that were planned, delivers on an extremely high level. You get the feeling that this tour was going to bring things to the stage that we’ve never seen before.

At the same time, this film shows Jackson in a much more vulnerable state than normal. He knew the cameras were rolling but this wasn’t intended to be a public release until the Death Popularity kicked in. Because of this, you see some of the weirder aspects of the man. He looks so incredibly frail and sickly and yet it doesn’t seem to affect what he puts into the performance. A couple of the song segments and the videos that were being worked into them were just weird and you knew it had to be Michael’s brainchild. The man is wearing a Popeye t-shirt for about a third of the shots. Seeing as I still wear a “Goonies” shirt every once in a while, maybe I shouldn’t find this weird...But no, it’s weird for a megajillionaire to be wearing a Popeye shirt. And yet he was still brilliant to the very end.

“This Is It” is a strange film to watch. Lindsey said she had to fight back tears for the first 20 minutes and I totally get that. There are three dozen people shown in these tapes, all of whom put months of their time into making this the greatest show the world has ever seen, but they, like the rest of Michael’s fans, will never see it come to fruition. I’m personally bummed that another one of my top five “I Would Pay Just About Anything to See Them in Concert” performers (along with Zeppelin, The Eagles, Nirvana, and (gulp) Garth Brooks) will never happen. Yet it is so cool to see the King of Pop getting ready to do what he did best, which was completely fascinate his fans. As the opening credits told me, “This Is It” is much less a tribute to the man and more a tribute to his fans. And a solid tribute it is. A-.

I bet you I can throw a football over them mountains,
Brian

"It Might Get Loud"

Imagine you’re at a party with a small group of friends, three of whom happen to be “musicians.” (By “musicians” I mean in college they could usually be found sitting in front of a tree, sporting a goatee, plucking out four chords and singing “Hey There Delilah.”) Say these three people discover that they all know how to play a certain song and say those people find a guitar or three at said party. Maybe they all keep a guitar in the car for such an occasion, who knows, just go with it. We’ve all been to this party at some point or another. How long would you guess it would take before these three start “jamming” to the tune of R.E.M.’s “Losing My Religion?” In my experience, this usually takes about 1.2 minutes.

Now imagine the three guys are Jimmy Page (Led Zeppelin), The Edge (U2), and Jack White (White Stripes).

“It Might Get Loud” is a documentary that centers on the electric guitar and three of its biggest proponents. Half of the film follows Page, The Edge, and White around in their home life to get a feel for the genesis of their musical upbringings. In the other half, director Davis Guggenheim lets the three guitar legends into a room, turns a camera on, and allows the viewer to watch the action unfold with great anticipation. Altogether it is a phenomenally brilliant undertaking that should garner the attention of ANY music fan, young or old.

“Loud” gives the audience an insight into the mind and creative processes of these men, exploring the differences therein. Jack White is the mad scientist of the group in that he kind of throws things together on the spur of the moment and takes what he gets, good or bad. He’s a guy who relishes the challenge of playing a crappy plastic guitar, of mastering his opponent. The Edge, on the other hand, is methodical and deliberate. He practices and experiments for hours before defining a single line of notes. Jimmy Page just simply plays the electric guitar better than anyone else and in ways that no one else can. Like their processes, their sounds are dramatically different. White’s music is extremely raw and unpredictable. U2’s is much more dominated by effects and comes across much more refined. Zeppelin was, of course, much harder than their contemporaries but Page almost seems like a classical player compared to the other two.

Still the similarities and unity between the three is quite apparent. There are heavy punk and blues undertones rooted in the styles of all three and that aspect of their respective developments is deeply explored. All three are great students of their craft. One of the best sections of “It Might Get Loud” is a segment that gives each artist an opportunity to discuss their greatest influences. It’s not every day that you get to see Jimmy Page play someone else’s record and talk about how great it is and what kind of impact it had on him. Or to see the emotional and almost physical attachment Jack White has to the music of Son House.

In addition, it is fascinating to see the level of respect these three have for each other and their willingness to learn from each other, even at their advanced level of ability. These are not “good” guitarists or even “famous” guitarists. These are three guitar gods who you half expect to display polite niceties with each other but remain egotistically distanced. But as the documentary illustrates, nothing could be further from the truth. On his way to the studio, White says, “My plan is to trick them into telling me all their secrets.” You might expect this from White, who is by far the youngest of the three and (I would imagine) the least well known. However, while White played, both Page and The Edge were keenly watching his movements, attempting to pick up a trick or two of their own. Each seems to view the other with the highest regard and the conversation that flows between them is fantastic.

It’s no secret that I am likely biased towards liking this film. I love U2, I love The White Stripes, and I love Zeppelin. Were I to make my own list of living guitar legends, all three of these men would probably make the top five. But even I was not prepared for the magnificence of “Loud.” For me, this is the best documentary I’ve ever seen and, so far, the best film of 2009. Brilliantly shot and edited, this is an absolute masterpiece that only left me wanting more when the 90 minute run time sadly came to an end. A+.

I used to play “Kashmir” during warm ups for my P.E. class,
Brian

Free Agency

I didn’t grow up in a sports family. There was very little Sunday Afternoon Football or baseball in the summer. Most of my family at least watches the Cowboys each week but my parents weren’t into it. The extend of my sports participation as a young kid consisted primarily of bowling and one sad spring spent playing right field for a winless tee ball team. (That would make me the worst player on the worst team.) This all changed somewhere around the 3rd grade when, overnight, soccer became popular in my neighborhood and I started playing that. My real fire was lit, however, when my uncle’s took me to my first live sporting event, which turned out to be a Dallas Mavericks game. I was hooked.

Given that I didn’t really have any background in sports or parents to influence my decisions, I chose the teams for which I would root with very little thought to geography or tradition. I was a Mavericks fan, of course, which in those days was much harder than it is now. My first full season as a Mavs Fan For Life saw the team win 11 games, followed by a 13 win season. I was born into a West Texas family so even when I didn’t care about sports, Texas Tech was born into me and thus began my life as a Red Raider. The rest of my teams were chosen for very good reasons.

I started rooting for Ohio State because my best friend Kyle was from Ohio and I thought, what the heck, that sounds like fun. For the most part it has been fun, minus the last three January games of which I will not speak. To this day I don’t know if it was a replay or the actual game but once my dad happened to flick past a TV channel on which I caught Christian Laettner hitting the greatest shot in the history of college basketball (1992 East Regional Finals to beat Kentucky) and my Duke basketball fandom was born. I really didn’t like or get everything about the game of baseball, I just knew I didn’t like Juan Gonzalez or Jose Conseco so I chose the San Francisco Giants as my baseball team. Later, after their roid riddled years, I added the Rangers as my AL representative.

And I became a Raider fan because, truthfully, the Raiders were about the coolest team a boy could hope for. Their colors were edgy and menacing, the fans were CRAZY, they had Dallas legend Tim Brown, and their logo was a pirate. How could a 9 year old boy not like the Raiders? In addition, everyone I knew was a Cowboy fan and I never wanted to do anything everyone else was doing. In a sense, I adopted the renegade ideals of the organization.

I live by a few simple sports rules, which I put into a blog a couple of years ago called, “The Rules for a Sports Fan.” Unfortunately, the blog I wrote it on has been deleted and my computer got the Blue Screen of Death some time back, losing this column forever, but the rules still apply. These rules are simple but cover numerous fan-based conundrums. Things like prohibiting rooting for two teams in the same division or mixing clothing from two teams in the same sport. The most important rule, however, simply states that a fan CANNOT abandon a team.

There are very few legitimate exceptions to this rule. Losing is not an excuse. As I stated before, I was a Mavs fan during a decade that never saw them complete a winning season. Trading away your favorite player is not an excuse. In 1993 the Mavericks traded my all time favorite player, Derek Harper, to the New York Knicks. Moving to a new city is not a short term excuse. When I went to college I was in the heart of Razorback country and my hatred for the program persisted. For the most part, if you choose to root for a team, you root for them through wins and losses, thick and thin, championships and idiotic management. It’s pretty plain and simple.

If you do wish to abandon a team, you essentially have to prove that the team (or the team’s management) has abandoned you first. The most easily identified form of abandonment occurs when a franchise leaves a given city for another city. When this occurs every member of the team’s fan base gets an automatic option for Fan Free Agency, at which time any other team may be chosen. There are other exceptions, however. To keep this simple I’ll give three brief examples.

Your team makes consistent player moves that are CLEARLY designed only to save the owner money, not make the team better. Fans of the Phoenix Suns, Pittsburgh Pirates, or the Cleveland Indians during the movie “Major League” should feel free to take their time and money elsewhere;
Your team makes one majorly idiotic deal that not only hurts the team’s level of play, it also destroys the image or viewed atmosphere of the club. In 2003 the Knicks traded Latrell Sprewell, the heart and soul of the team and a guy who represented the last legs of the tough-as-nails image of the franchise, for Keith Van Horn, the softest player the league had ever seen. My love and interest in the team ended immediately;
Your team makes numerous moves over a number of years (at least five or more) that display a complete lack of knowledge of what is going on in the sport. This has to involve player acquisitions in free agency, trades, and draft as well as the consistent use (or misuse) of funds.

With that in mind, I am officially declaring myself an NFL Fan Free Agent, under Exception 3 listed above. For the last 6 years I have stood by the Oakland Raiders despite numerous attempts by the team to abandon me and the rest of Raider Nation. I have remained silent through the losses. I’ve stuck around despite the numerous occasions on which the Raiders signed or traded for a former star player now FAR past his prime. I shuddered but stood firm when the team traded too much for players, signed them for too much, and then promptly cut them. I watched as coaches were hired and fired with the frequency of a McDonald’s cashier. I openly questioned whether owner Al Davis was still alive and even theorized that he’d died some time ago but the rest of the organization didn’t know what to do so they strung him up like Bernie and made decisions with a dart board. But I stayed with them despite the many, many reasons to abandon ship.

That’s all over now. I was on the fence, considering making this agonizing decision, before the NFL Draft in April. For years, the joke about the Raiders has been that they will ALWAYS draft the most athletic player. Skill or ability to play in the NFL doesn’t really matter as long as the guy can run faster or throw the ball farther than anyone else. This notion came true once again when the Raiders passed on Michael Crabtree and drafted some dude named Darrius Heyward-Bey about 20 picks before he should have been drafted. In the second round, the Raiders drafted some guy that was literally projected to potentially not get drafted at all who, shockingly, is a freak of an athlete but probably has no football ability. This was all I could take. I hung my head in shame (cue the Charley Brown music) as my friends laughed and (rightly) mocked me as pick after pick, the Raiders looked stupider and stupider. I had this image of Al Davis rolling over in his grave and then remembered that his corpse has yet to be buried. It was the last straw.

It should be noted that I reserve the right to return to my Raider heritage when and if it is discovered that Al Davis is dead. So now that I am free of my Raider obligation, I have to pick a new team. That’s part of the deal. With the exception of a strike-shortened season during which you can abandon a sport altogether, if you declare your free agency, you must choose another team within 1 year. (I made that one up just now.) I’ve thought long and hard about this and I’m having trouble selecting my new team. I could NEVER be a Cowboy fan so the obvious, easiest choice is out. As such, I have come up with 5 teams that I need your help to choose from.

Arizona Cardinals - They have one of my all time favorite players (Larry Fitzgerald) and they play an exciting brand of football. On the other hand, they have been a historically bad team and I’m not sure I want to trade one bad team for another.

Pittsburgh Steelers - I have always had a great admiration for the Steelers. They’re kind of the anti-Raiders in that they follow their own pattern but they do it right. But I don’t want to be a bandwaggoner by jumping on board with a team that’s won 2 Super Bowls in 4 years.

Philadelphia Eagles - This would be an easy transition as the Eagles have kind of been my secondary team for a while now because, A.) I hate the Cowboys and B.) I love Donovan McNabb. The Michael Vick thing gives me pause, however, and they are due for about 5 years of terrible football in the near future.

San Francisco 49ers - This would be getting in on the ground floor with a team that may be absolutely horrible for a few more years. The Michael Crabtree thing will make a difference here. If he signs, I could be in but his not being on the team is a deal breaker.

New Orleans Saints - Again, I’m a fan of the pass-based offensive attack and the Saints certainly have that. There’s a lot of excitement on this team. But, they are a historically dysfunctional franchise and I really don’t want to go that route again.

There are no other teams that meet the criteria that I’m looking for in a franchise. As stated, this decision has been quite difficult and so I take it to you, dear readers. I will accept your arguments for or against any of the above 5 teams as you help me make a choice that will affect me for the rest of my life. Again, no other teams will be considered. If I can’t decide on a new team I’ll exercise my one year of free agency and root only for “Great Odin’s Raven” and “Texas With a Dollar Sign,” which are my two fantasy football teams. I appreciate your concern for my well being in this trying time.

I’m going to start using “Darrius Heyward-Bey” as a curse word,
Brian

My Dog, the Democrat

For those of you who don’t know, I have a dog whose name is Ali. I adopted Ali about three and a half years ago and he’s been my constant companion ever since. I was raised in a family that treats their pets as just short of human which basically means they don’t eat at the table but their names make it into the list of those that get run through when my dad is trying to get someone’s attention. (“Duncan…uh, Paco, I mean um…Brian or…whoever you are, get over here.”) I don’t think there was more than a week of my life growing up in which we didn’t have two dogs. I was out of Harding and therefore eligible to have a pet for about 5 weeks when I adopted Ali; I just couldn’t take living without a dog any longer.

Some dogs I’ve had have just been pets. You love the dog because, well, it’s yours but there’s not just a whole lot that differentiates this dog from any other dog. You feed them, pet them, throw a ball every once in a while but in some ways they’re just a part of the house. But I’ve also owned (or known) a lot of dogs who had character and, for lack of a better term, personality.

Ali is one of those dogs. He’s got a lot of personality that separates him from other dogs I’ve owned. You might even say he’s a bit quirky. When I first got him I bought a $70 bed which he promptly ignored in favor of crawling under my bed, army style. When someone leaves the house he does The Spin Dance, which sees him spin around madly while barking loudly and violently. We’ve often referred to him as the Cave Dog because at any given time during the day he can almost always be found holed up under something. A table, a chair, someone’s legs, it doesn’t really matter; he just wants to be in a cave. Ali doesn’t bark at everything the way some small dogs do but when he does bark after something, he usually runs over to me with a big dog-smile to show me how proud he is of himself. He hates to be picked up, is somewhat racist, and loves to ride in the car more than a PE teacher loves dodgeball. And, as I’ve noted before, he is quite fat, especially on his left side which kind of weirds me out.

These idiosyncrasies shined through once again a couple of weeks ago when we hosted a surprise birthday party for Lindsey’s sister Kim and her husband John. Lindsey has these cardboard cutouts of President George W. Bush and Dorothy from “The Wizard of Oz” that make an appearance at most of our little shindigs. Lindsey will print out pictures of the honored guests’ faces and stick them on the cutouts. This party being no exception, President Bush and Dorothy stood in our entry way for about 18 hours before we began the real after-party clean up process.

While Ali stood quietly eating in our kitchen, I folded up Dorothy and then stepped away for a second to watch the Rangers blow yet another lead (seriously, I hate you CJ Wilson). Suddenly I heard some growling from the kitchen and looked in to see Ali staring straight ahead with teeth shown and tail raised. I couldn’t figure out what was going on and then he started barking and slowly backing away under the table (you know, because he’s a Cave Dog). I started looking around and finally figured out that he was barking at George. I brought George a little closer to the kitchen and the barking and scurrying increased. Clearly, Ali was terrified by the “man” standing in the kitchen.

Like any good dog owner would do I decided to torture him a little. I picked up Ali and brought him closer to George so that he could see that it was, in fact, only a 5 foot tall cardboard cutout of the man, not an actual former president hanging out in our house. Ali promptly peed on me and snapped at George. I put him down and he ran full tilt into the bedroom and into his closet, barking the whole way. It should be noted that because of his weight running is not one of Ali’s skills but man did he put up a valiant effort on this occasion.

The really crazy thing about this occurrence was not that Ali freaked out over an inanimate object. This sort of thing has happened before. Once I found him barking ferociously as a pile of laundry that was stacked on the washing machine, a black fleece stretched out over the top, giving the appearance of a weirdly shaped headless man. No, the weird thing is that, as I mentioned, George had been standing in the entry way for somewhere around 18 hours when Ali finally picked up on his presence. The second I removed Dorothy (and her little dog, too) from the equation Ali suddenly saw George for the first time. So basically should an intruder enter our home with the intent to immediately inflict some sort of harm, Lindsey and I are lacking in dogs that can alert us to his presence. On the plus side, though, if anyone decides to break in and perform some sort of long term sneak attack, we’re well covered.

I put George in the front guest room. The next day we were in that room talking and Ali wandered in like he usually does. (He likes to be where the people are. There’s a better chance of someone giving him food that way.) For a minute every thing was fine. Then suddenly, as if George had materialized out of thin air, Ali realized we were not alone. There on the ground laid President George W. Bush, bent in half, half smiling up at him. Ali flipped out. He started barking and growling while Spin Dancing his way out of the room and into safety. I picked up George and unfolded him, held him up in the doorway, and stuck my head out just in time to see Ali take off for the bedroom. A minute later I found him in the back of his closet, still barking.

I can come to but one conclusion from these experiences. My dog is a Democrat, and a hardened one at that. I don’t really consider myself to be a Republican because the real term for my political beliefs is probably Apathetic. But I confess my leanings are probably more towards the Republican side than anywhere else. My family members are Republicans and I would guess that most of the people I hang out with are closer to Republicans than Democrats. This puts Ali in the minority but he’ll obviously be darned if he’ll go down without making his political views known. Perhaps he tried his best to keep quiet for as long as he could or perhaps he felt it best to display outward unity with the President until he was out of office as a show of solidarity and strength. Maybe he just likes the similarity between his name and the name of our new president, I don’t really know.

Either way, I expect this to have an impact on our relationship. One of his more excited barks sounds remarkably close to, “Yes we can” and I’m pretty sure he was watching “An Inconvenient Truth” the other day while I was out of the room. Still, Ali remains my dog and I imagine our friendship can withstand this new voicing of beliefs. Just as long as he steers clear of Michael Moore. That crap will find him a permanent spot in the backyard.

I’d prefer it if he’d just play poker,
Brian

The Year of the Career

Last week marked my one year anniversary of working at Richland Hills Church of Christ. That makes this the longest period of time I’ve ever spent in one job (which is, admittedly, a bit sad). For the occasion of finding myself with a career for the first time ever, I felt it needed to be commemorated in some way. And so I blog.

I didn’t really prepare myself to be in the job that I’m in. It sort of fell into my lap, or maybe I fell into its lap. While I was off trying to be a teacher and wondering if that was what I really wanted to be or not, the good Lord showed me something different. Within a couple of weeks I found myself right smack in the middle of football season. I walked into a firestorm of issues and complications and had about seven seconds to try to get it all sorted out. When I started going through all the stuff I had at my disposal I found I was in possession of exactly two pee wee sized footballs with 14 teams about to begin practice in a couple of weeks.

At my first coaches meeting, my unofficial introduction to the ministry I was now in charge of, the first coach walked in and promptly told me his son wasn’t listed on his roster. The two had different last names and I had no way of knowing but it wasn’t the best start I could have hoped for. A few weeks later I made a HORRENDOUS call while officiating a football game that probably cost one team the game. We can say the Upward program is non-competitive all we like; a game changing call will NOT go over well. There was the near fight that took place between a couple of coaches after one game and the three kids we lost to other programs because their registration forms were lost in the transition from one office to another. I had a kid break an arm during a practice and a coach tear her ACL in a tournament. And there was the damage-to-equipment screw up that I’ll never really speak of.

Still, over the last year I’d like to think I’ve had some success as well. Each of the four seasons I have overseen has brought a growth from the season before and some grew exponentially. I have been blessed with a skill set that I call “The Ions”: supervision, administration, and organization. These skills have been a huge help to me. We’ve had families place membership that came to our church just because of the program I get to oversee. I’ve been able to develop relationships with kids and parents who I wouldn’t have met otherwise and know the impact of what I, along with a ton of volunteer coaches, are doing. And I’ve been on the winning side of the coach’s game two out of three times and gone undefeated as a coach. You all know how much I like to win.

I cannot express to you, dear readers, what a joy it is to work at RHCC. It is at times almost surreal to walk around the offices of the church where I grew up as a part of the staff; to get the opportunity to work with some of the people I looked up to most as a teenager. I am surrounded by those who have at one time or another made a tremendous difference in my life and continue to do so to this day. I have been met with absolutely nothing but support from every staff member I’ve come in contact with. And let me tell you, though you might think that might be standard when you work at a church, the truth is more often than not churches are far worse in this department than just about any other industry. The infighting and lack of anything resembling quality that plagues most churches is next to non-existent here in my experience. It is a fantastic thing to work with a church that actually cares about making things GOOD and hold its ministers and staff to a high standard for the ministries they work with. When I was deciding whether to take this job or not I was told that, “you cannot beat the environment in which you’ll work” and that could not be more true.

I’ve learned, seen, and done a lot over the last year. Here are some of the highlights.

*I have learned that a Saturday’s worth of trash from 600 people is still there when you get to work on Monday;
*I have fought the urge to say, “Rick Rick Rrrriiicccckkk!” in my best Amy Poehler voice approximately 900 times as it springs to mind every time I run across Rick Atchley in the office;
*I have seen a minister put his arm around a hooker as we met with the homeless;
*I have learned the unending and borderless influence of “The Office;”
*I have been called a bad Christian because I would not allow a parent to register his kids after the end of the month long registration process;
*I have seen 12,000 Texans freak out over a horse in the church auditorium;
*I have overheard a kid thank God for our sins during a mid-practice prayer;
*I have learned just how much I can take from certain people before I feel the urge to strangle them;
*I have witnessed first hand the glory of a team coming together without their leader;
*I have learned how hard it is not to judge the parents who show up in a brand new Prius with lattes in hand and ask for a scholarship;
*I have seen the same kid puke on three separate occasions because he drank too much Gatorade at halftime;
*I have learned that some kids will actually put dirt on an open wound when you tell them to, “Rub some dirt on it and get back out there”;
*I have come to a better understanding, for better or worse, of how differently people look at you when you work at a church;
*I have mistaken a coworker for a homeless person (way to blend in, Kelly!);
*I have learned to leave the longest, most detailed incoming voicemail I can possibly think of;
*I have seen a kid experience the greatest frustration and the biggest moment of joy of his football career within the span of 20 seconds;
*I have filmed not one but two embarrassing videos in costume;
*I have learned that sometimes when you spend 50 hours a week at the church building, it’s hard to get excited to go to church-church;
*I have good-gamed Jonathan Storment somewhere between 150 and 300 times, including once in the mall that I think made him have flashbacks to his days in Arkansas;
*I have learned that there is almost nothing my team of 9 women can say that will make me uncomfortable, but when it happens it’s a doozie;
*I have found myself at times unable to differentiate between Will Ferrell and Dave Fraze;
*I have learned the value of my weekly basketball games and the stress release they offer me.

When it’s all said and done I have absolutely loved the last year. The truth is, outside of being a professional athlete, general manager for the Dallas Mavericks, or a (well paid) film critic, this is essentially my dream job. Seriously, I wear shorts, t-shirts, and Nikes to work almost every day and I have access to a basketball court 15 feet from my office. What more could I really ask for? Moreover I am blessed to be in a position where I am constantly reaffirmed that God is working through me and am allowed to see the efforts I put in take hold on a daily basis. Call it a calling, call it right-place, right-time, call it whatever you want. I truly believe I’m in the place God called me to be and after years of trying to find my place in this whole “career world” I could not be happier than to be where I am today.

Will Ferrell just walked by my office,
Brian

"G.I. Joe" / The Summer of the Nerd

Back in March, three friends (Jason, Elijah, and Ryan) and I made the sparking decision to go see “Watchmen” at a midnight premiere. It was a fun night filled with all kinds of exciting revelations such as what happens when someone brings a baby to a violent, 3 hour movie at midnight. It had been several years since I’d done a midnight premiere of a film and it got us all talking.

As most of you know, I’m a huge, huge, HUGE movie nerd. At the beginning of each calendar year (and then again sometime in the middle) I go through the IMDB calendar for the next 6 months to a year and make a list of all the movies I’m going to want to see in the theater. (Side note: I don’t really remember what my life was like before IMDB became a part of it. It’s the greatest movie industry innovation since color film.) When I made that list this year, my nerd radar went crazy over the absurd number of summer films that could be considered Nerd Fodder. It started the first week in May with “X-Men: Wolverine” and continued through this week with “G.I. Joe: The Rise of Cobra.” Naturally, I deemed this three month period The Summer of the Nerd.

After the success of the “Watchmen” premiere (screaming baby aside), I decided this was a prime opportunity to form a club. The principals of the Summer of the Nerd club were threefold:

1.) We would see every nerd movie that made its way to theaters;
2.) We would see each of these movies at midnight;
3.) We would make t-shirts.

That’s really all there was to it. A group of loyal nerds was assembled and the principals were agreed upon. Seven films were to be considered eligible for official Summer of the Nerd viewings: “Wolverine,” “Star Trek,” “Terminator: Salvation,” “Land of the Lost,” “Transformers 2,” “Harry Potter 6,” and “G.I. Joe.” (Note: both “Up” and “Public Enemies” would have made this list as well had the theater owners allowed for a midnight release. Their loss.) With the schedule and the participants in place, LB designed a shirt and the rest was history.

Seven times the group gathered between 10 and 11 pm at United Artist Fossil Creek Stadium 11 to take place in the nerdiness. Sometimes the group was small (only four of us for “Terminator”) and sometimes huge (even Stephen’s mom came to “Harry Potter”). Sometimes the movies were great (“Star Trek”), sometimes not so great (more to come on the atrocity that was “G.I. Joe.”). Sometimes it was hotter than the first level of the underworld in the theater and once we even got refund passes due to the heat stroke many of us endured. One time we even got “an exclusive in depth look” at the movie we were about to see during the pre-preview commercials.

But always the night was fun. The hours before each film actually began were filled with ridiculous hypotheticals, the sharing of nerdy videos (like this one), and relentless mocking of the nerds around us. Each viewing brought a couple of hours hanging out with friends and engaging in nerdy, witty banter that likely annoyed everyone around us. In what other time of life could you take bets on the length of the loop of trivia slides shown before the movie starts (never longer than 2 minutes, 37 seconds)? A great time was had by all and if nothing else we each came away with a t-shirt. What else can you really ask for in life?

Unfortunately all good things must come to an end. As the last week approached, my nerdy friends and I grew wary of what we were about to endure with “Joe.” The warning signs were as follows:

1.) The trailers gave us numerous shots of the Joes wearing “accelerator suits” that made them faster, stronger, etc. This went against everything G.I. Joe stood for;
2.) Aside from Dennis Quaid, the top-billed actors in this film are Channing Tatum, Sienna Miller, and (gulp) Marlon Wayans;
3.) The studio did not screen it for critics. (Note: this is probably the worst sign of all. Over the years, the ONLY movie I can think of that didn’t screen for the critics and turned out even passably good is “Tombstone.” That’s it.) The only place you could find a real review of this movie prior to its release was from Ain’t It Cool News;
4.) Again, Marlon Wayans is one of the four “name” actors. Marlon Wayans.

The best way I can describe my feelings towards “G.I. Joe” is to repeat what I told one of my friends as we watched the disaster unfold on the screen: this movie gave me a new appreciation for Michael Bay. If you’re unfamiliar with Michael Bay, just check out his IMDB page. (Seriously, what the heck did we do before IMDB?) Bay has became synonymous with big budget, high octane, special effects driven summer blockbusters that are heavy on action and low on trivial little things like competent acting and writing. Still, he makes money and for all his flaws (which are immense) he is a wizard with the camera. He does amazing things that keep the audience from fully realizing or focusing in on the TREMENDOUS plot holes and TERRIBLE dialogue that plague his films. I’ve bashed on Bay quite a bit in the past and I cringe each time I see his name attached to a film I have any interest in because every single time, I know that coming out of the theater I will say one thing: “Well, it was another Michael Bay film.”

Michael Bay represents everything is wrong with the movie industry and yet I longed for him to be at the helm of “Joe.” Please understand how much it pains me to say that. Instead Stephen Sommers, whose best credit to this point is as director of “The Mummy” (seriously), was in charge of “Joe” and the results are lacking. Sommers attempts to do what Bay does with each of his films but as it turns out he’s just as bad of an actual director as Bay with none of the camera wizardry to keep him afloat. In addition, he writes most of his own films and continues to prove himself to be one of the world’s worst writers. Ever. And I don’t just mean screenwriters; I mean all writers in the history of the world. When you combine all of this with truly a cast that, as a whole, can’t act and CGI that is truly abysmal, you get a disastrous result.

I imagine the development of this film went something like this:

Day 1 - Stephen Sommers is tabbed as director;
Day 2 - Sommers finishes an all night party (at which he was reportedly heard yelling, “I got another film! Can you believe it?! Those morons gave me another film!”) at 4 a.m. and begins writing;
Day 3 - Sommers wakes up from a nap at noon, realizes his script is only 10 pages long, and fills in the rest with some summaries of scenes from “Star Wars” and the words, “BIG EXPLOSION” after every third line of dialogue;
Day 4 - A casting meeting is held at which Sommers says, “I don’t care how well they can act, just make sure they look good.” Channing Tatum and Sienna Miller are cast on the spot;
Day 5 - Shooting begins;
Day 6 - Sommers realizes his cast is stale and lacking in depth so the decision is made to bring in a well respected veteran actor to “anchor the kids”;
Day 7 - Dennis Quaid receives a script for “Joe” and thinks, “What the heck, I’m 55, I don’t get that many opportunities to make a million dollars for 2 days of work” and takes the gig;
Day 8 - Sommers realizes his cast needs some comedic release and acts the studio, “who can we get for fifty thousand dollars?” Marlon Wayans starts immediately;
Day 9 - Shooting finishes and CGI production begins;
Day 10 - Instead of hiring a real effects company to take care of the massive number of CGI shots the film has, Sommers gives the job to two former roommates, his wife’s nephew, and the son of a casino owner whom he owes a favor;
Day 11 - “Joe” is delivered to the studio and the decision is made to keep it away from the critics as long as possible.

And that’s how you make a Stephen Sommers film. I could be quite content with “Joe” as a “Transformers” knock off and from the moment this film was announced I fully expected it to be more about the action than the acting. I can handle that. Summer blockbusters are supposed to be about fun and entertainment, not awards. But when your actors are bad, your script is rotten, and your shots are lacking, you sure as heck better have amazing effects to counter it all. “Joe” misses the mark on all four counts. This movie is attempting to be too big. It wants to be “Transformers” when really it should be shooting for something more along the lines of “The Island.” There’s nothing wrong with being a throwaway action film, as long as you’re not trying to be THE throwaway action film. But most importantly, no one (audience and critics alike) is going to overlook huge flaws when the action sequences aren’t spectacular.

Still, as several of my fellow nerds said, sometimes it’s less about the film and more about the company. I think all of us would have preferred a different final film to close out the Summer of the Nerd. But in the end, we all gathered with our matching shirts for one last Nerdout before the summer came to a close. It was a good time with good friends and maybe that’s really all you can ask for from a summer movie.

“G.I. Joe:” D+. Summer of the Nerd: A+.

Brendan Fraser makes a random appearance in this film,
Brian

The Great Film Retrospective

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