Young Homie You A Genius, Yo

I am usually able to resist reality contest TV, no prob.

American Idol? Meh.

Dancing with the Stars? Whatev.

Survivor? Puh-leeze.

Bachelor/ette? The Voice? Big Brother? America's Got Talent? The Apprentice? Pffft.

Last night, pulled down by exhaustion into the inexorable gravity of the couch, I found my self succumbing to the last hour of the XFactor. I was just about to turn it off and go to bed when the last contestant, a 28 year old by the name of Chris Rene was called up. Watching him meander onto the stage wearing a oversized, white t-shirt, baggy pants, floppy, unlaced shoes, and a hat worn at an annoyingly jaunty angle, my reaction was an eye roll and a label of "punk". Then, when asked what song he planned to perform, he told the judges he was going to sing "Young Homie", an original number that he'd written himself. I smirked and sat back to watch the insanity commence.

Anyone who has ever watched this type of show knows that when a contestant says "I'm going to sing a piece I wrote myself" that they are officially crazycakes. Given the way the judges reacted to his announcement, they knew it too. I think Simon was already motioning for security.

WRONG, WRONG, SO VERY, VERY WRONG.



By the time he finished, I was covered in goosebumps and had tears rolling down my face. I felt like I got a look at his soul as he performed on stage. Seriously, even if this kid doesn't go all the way, I see a big... no make that HUGE record deal in his future. I'm rooting for him. Young homie, you a genius, yo.

Dr. Horrible Is Magical

I can't believe I claimed to be a Joss Whedon fan yet had never seen Dr. Horrible's Sing-Along Blog.

That is, until last night.

After reading a recent post where I listed The Guild among my favorite stuff at the moment, my friend and fellow blogger, Courtney, suggested I watch Dr. Horrible's Sing-Along Blog (henceforth to be referred to in this post as DHS-AB so I don't get carpal tunnel). I have no excuse as to why I hadn't watched it. It's been popping up on my Netflix recommendations for a while. It had a whole cast of my favorite actors and writers/directors. I had it in my queue... at number 258. I might have gotten to it. Eventually. Maybe

Courtney insisted I watch it and sent me home with her personal copy.

But until last night, the wonders of DHS-AB remained locked within its DVD case.

Premise: Mad scientist wannabe (less on the mad, more on the geek) Dr. Horrible (Neil Patrick Harris) vlogs his attempts to gain enough notoriety to be asked to join the Evil League of Evil. Time and time again his nefarious plans have been thwarted by Captain Hammer (Nathan Fillion), local superhero and all-around megalomaniacal a-hole. Dr. Horrible finally reaches his breaking point when Captain Hammer puts the moves on his laundromat crush, the doe-eyed do-gooder, Penny (Felicia Day).

The metamorphosis of the superhero - or in this case, the supervillain - is fascinating subject matter. The movie Unbreakable (stop making the yuck face) isn't a popular favorite with the cinema-going public, but it ranks in my Top 10.

Oh, and be prepared. DHS-AB has singing. Lots of singing. Some people get scared when characters periodically break out into song. I, on the other hand, wish it happened more in real life.

I was confident in Whedon's ability to pull off a musical number. The musical episode of Buffy the Vampire Slayer, "Once More With Feeling", is still one of my all-time favorites episodes of the entire series. I knew Felicia Day could sing because of the music videos she'd done in The Guild. Neil Patrick Harris had starred in an episode of Glee and I'd seen bits and pieces of his other musical roles. The big surprise, for me, was Nathan Fillion. I wouldn't have thought him capable of carrying a tune in a bucket. I'm pleased to admit I was wrong.

Where that impression came from is anyone's guess. Maybe his square jaw and ruggedly handsome good looks threw me off.

As far as the quality of voices and the songs themselves, DHS-AB outshines BtVS. Sorry Buffy-Once-More-With-Feeling fans. I was one of you once.

My favorite number was "My Eyes".

As a whole, DHS-AB was brilliant. Mad-scientist brilliant. I laughed, I cried, and I ordered my own copy off Amazon. I am now more in love with Joss Whedon than before, if that's even possible.

The Walking Dead (contains spoilers)

On my Netflix, I'm watching the second episode of the TV series The Walking Dead.

So far, I'd give it two Beretta 9mm (with full clips), two shotguns, and a hand grenade. In zombie warrior rating terms, that is the equivalent of 5 stars.

I am a mass of contradictions when it comes to horror in any medium. I don't particularly care for the books (Not even Stephen King. Sorry, Kate), because I find the contents of an average daily newspaper much weirder and scarier than any work of horror fiction. Since I'm blessed with an overactive imagination and a twitchy trigger finger, in the interest of public safety I don't watch horror movies -- no slashers, no gorefests, and no monsters.

Except for zombies.

I'd analyze the crap out of that, but I don't have the extensive time necessary to excavate all the dark places in my psyche properly. I got other sh*t to do. 'Nuff to say, that when it comes to the undead, living dead, jiang shi, walkers, geeks, ghouls, the old-stump-and-drags-dressed-in-blood-and-rags, I find the subject of the zombie apocalypse fascinating.

This series is well-done and not without its humorous moments, which are of a distinctively gallows variety.

***SPOILER ALERT***
Our small gang of the living and breathing have figured out a way to slip through enemy zombie lines and get out of the city (Atlanta) where they have become trapped by the hordes of flesh-eating undead shuffling about in the streets. With much gagging and puking, they hack up a dead (headshot) zombie with a fire axe and rub zombie goo and guts all over their trenchcoats to disguise their "living" smell. Then two of our smaller brained, stainless steel nutted heroes open the door and shuffle out among the dead and attempt to blend their way past them to a getaway vehicle.

The vehicle is in sight, a mere hundred yards away just beyond a chainlink fence. "It's working. We're going to make it," one of them mumbles. The other one grins in agreement.

Then it starts to rain.

******

I prefer my zombies old-school, slow and stupid, not fast and able to use rocks as tools or scale a chain link fence.

WIPEOUT

Thank you Wipeout.

Thank you for making me laugh so hard I cried and peed a little.

Now, normally I do not find people getting hurt entertaining, even if it is a result of their own stupidity and quite deserved. Unless I am extremely drunk (see: attending Jackass, The Movie, Pt I), then I am going to laugh so hard people will mistake the sound for an irate burro with a bad headcold due to all the braying and snorting.

I do not watch America's Funniest Videos or World's Dumbest Criminals. My first reaction is not laughter in those situations, but flinching and squinting my eyes with an exclamation of "Damn!"

However, I have developed a strange fascination for game shows that require contestants to navigate some sort of obstacle course - which, as we all know from elementary gym class, contains not only the potential for severe injury, but unplumbed depths of humiliation as well.

And usually rope burns.

The Japanese game shows MXC (Most Extreme Elimination Challenge - the voiceovers for the commentators and contestants are comedic genius), Unbeatable Banzuke, and Ninja Warrior have elevated the game show obstacle course to new heights of glory. American television has tried to emulate their success. Though the attempt hasn't failed, you can only go so far when you can't actually kill or hideously maim the competitors. I'm not familiar with the technicalities of Japanese law, but the waivers the contestant sign must be iron-clad against ANY injury lawsuit. Otherwise how would it be possible to have a show like "Hit in the Nuts"?

Trust me, nothing is lost in the translation of that one.

There Were Some Awesome Things About the 80s

Big score in the $5 DVD bin at the Wal-Mart this weekend.

Drum roll, please.

Are you ready?

OH YEAH!! WHO'S JEALOUS NOW, BITCHAAZ??!

This morning I am suffering  from an acute case of 21 Jumpstreet Marathon Overload. It's like a bad hangover. There's a skull-splitting headache and a taste like the cat took a poo in my mouth, but the additional side effects include a desperate desire to rat my hair, wear one mismatched, long earring, pull on the slashed, acid-washed jeans, and bust some high school punks.

If you catch me reminiscing about how I once infiltrated a gang of car thieves operating out of a high school shop class or cracked a Catholic School coke ring, please remind me that wasn't actually me, but the leading characters on...

 "JUMP! Twenty-one Jumpstreeeet! I said, JUMP! Down on Jump Streeeeet..."