Cinemarathon 2010 is up and running!

Quick note, kids. The blog journaling my descent into the heart of my DVD collection is now live. Take a look at it if you're at all interested:

cinemarathon2010.blogspot.com

Cheers!

Big project for 2010

Attention kids, 'cause here's the part where I outline my big project for 2010. As many of you know, I own a LOT of DVDs. Television shows, documentaries, Three Stooges shorts, but by far the largest section of my DVD collection is movies. I started buying them in high school, as I felt the transition away from VHS (remember those?) was upon us. Plus, I had started working at a certain bookstore chain that had a DVD section, and through my employee discount, started funneling my paychecks right back into the system. They were my first (and hopefully) only addiction.

Flash forward a dozen or so years, and I've amassed quite a few. I'm a bit afraid to count, but I'd guess over 300 feature films and 50 or so seasons of television. Some of these discs have not been played in years. So, in the spirit of the new decade, and furthering my sense of internal change, I've decided to embark on a bold journey. One that will test my patience, my resilience, and if I make it through to the end, may take a piece of my soul.

Between now and December 31st, 2010, I will watch and review every single movie I own.

Those with even a casual association with math and a decent guess at the current date can see that averages to about a movie a day, possibly more once I've counted them all up. Which means some days I'll have to watch several movies in a single day. I've come up with some ground rules, to which I will adhere to keep this whole mad plan moving as smoothly as possible:

1) I will watch the films in alphabetical order, staring with numerals, then from A-Z.

2) Upon hitting the first film in a series (say, 1989's BATMAN), I will watch the rest of the films in the series in chronological order. This means that there will be some movies I skip (say, 1992's ARMY OF DARKNESS) in order to get to the first movie in the series (that would be 1981's EVIL DEAD). This will be done mostly to keep my sanity, as I have no idea what would happen if I watched BEYOND RE-ANIMATOR and BRIDE OF RE-ANIMATOR before RE-ANIMATIOR. Universe-ending paradoxes, I'm sure.

3) There will be no television shows or mini-series. If I have any hope of getting through this by years' end, I have to concentrate on feature films only. Made-for-tv movies (of which I own a couple) WILL be included, for reasons that will become clear later. And as much as it pains me not to be watching all of the MST3K that I own, that's a whole other project. Maybe 2011.

4) When there are multiple versions of the film (as in the three different versions of 1978's DAWN OF THE DEAD), I will leave it to my discretion which one I will watch, both, or all. I'm already thinking of watching the director's cut of 1986's ALIENS, because we all know that one's better.

5) Some of the movies I'll watch by myself, some with others, wholly depending on my mood and the willingness of my friends to participate. Note to friends: I will buy beer. Keep that in mind.

6) After watching, I will write up my own personal review of the movie. These reviews won't be as formal and academic as Ebert's or Maltin's. I will share with you, the reader, my thoughts on the film, why I chose to own it, what memories I associate with it, and what this film says about me. In doing so, I hope to learn a bit about myself, how I've changed from when I started this collection that has travelled with me for all of my adult life. What do the films I choose to own say about me? We'll find out together.

So I hope that you'll join me on this somewhat daunting undertaking. I'll be constructing a separate blog to host it all, and once I figure out the name for this project I'll let you know. Sure, it's not as inherently cool as a trip around the world, or as substantial as reading about a couple falling in love (is that a blog? I don't know, I'm not their demo), but I think it's something worth doing.

Plus I get to sit on my ass and watch movies. Who doesn't like doing that?

Brain too full, must jettison thoughts!

ALRIGHT, that's IT! Enough sentimental talk. Time to do what I do best: rant like an 80-year-old lunatic.

First off, when the fuck did we get together and decide that orange skin was acceptable? I randomly come across pictures of these FREAKS whose pursuit of sun worship must have scortched their rods and cones a bit, because PEOPLE DO NOT COME IN ORANGE! I'm not going to insert an Oompa Loompa reference in here, but y'all can knock yourselves out.

It's like a goddamned minstrel show.

Splintering off from the orange freak tangent, he's the last (sadly not the first) commentary about "Jersey Shore" I will ever make: The cast are poster children for abortion. Seriously, somebody out there needs to take the cast photo and Photoshop the words "Abortion: Sometimes it's the only option". When my mom references this show while on the phone with me, its time we did the honorable thing and behead those caricatures of human beings before they spread any further. Behead with a rusty fucking garden shovel. Moving on...

Remember when he wasn't crazy? I have a hard time remembering when too. Aussie fucker has always looked crazy.

I just read the results of a all-female survey on Valet.com where they describe what they want in a man, and much like every previous survey of this type ever conducted, these women are full of shit.

- 49% say a sense of humor is a turn-on while 2% say looks? BULLSHIT.

- 80% say they're just using you when they ask for a shot at a bar? Well, that's probably true.

- 43% say to wait three dates before asking her back to your place? What if you really want to show her your awesome DVD collection because she lied and said "Yes, I love late 70s/early 80s horror!" and then it gets all awkward and then she suddenly remembers that she left the kettle on and excuses herself, leaving you to watch Re-Animator alone in your cold apartment and there's only two beers in the fridge because your roommate drank the rest in a fit of alcoholism (which he always replaces but hasn't yet) and you start eyeing that last third of a bottle of mediocre whiskey that was left over from the last social gathering which was three months ago but you really want to get drunk and watch Jeffery Combs bring dead things back to life with florescent goo but you can't because the liquor store is closed, you know the one that's walking distance away, so instead you go to bed alone, all because some broad lied to you. Not that anything like that has ever happened to me. Moving on...

If I were Conan O'Brien I'd flip the bird to NBC and go to Fox, or better yet, cable, where his youthful audience can get back the show they loved and Jay can go back to pandering to the AARP crowd. Go fuck yourself Jeff Zucker.
UPDATE: since composing this section of today's rant, Conan issued a very classy statement about the matter, where he does sort of flip the bird to NBC. Good for him. Moving on...

Yeah, you should look worried. MAVERICK!

Sarah Palin working at Fox News? Certainly not shocking to us Alaskans who remember her stint as the Channel 2 sports girl, reporting on the Beaver Roundup. I am not making this shit up. Conservatives all over the country just unzipped their pants and put Fox News on mute.

Ew. Sorry about that last comment. Moving on...

And finally ("thank God!" you're all saying, I just know it), I hope that I can do a big move-in day over this long weekend. It's not all I can do to not burst through the wall I share with the landlord's brother and throw his TV into the street when he's watching it AT SIX IN THE FUCKING MORNING. My days of being woken up by that asshole's muted gibberish are numbered.

THANKS FOR PLAYING EVERYONE! If you mad it this far you are indeed a trooper. Or you couldn't take your eyes off this post like a car accident. I'm fine with either. Cheers!

Time to Regenerate

As awesome as it would be to be David Tennant (or the Doctor, for that matter. Especially 10 or 2 or 8. But not 6. LAME-O), I'm not. I'm me, a simple human who can only experience time in the one direction that every one else does. Yet change is constant, and while sometimes you want things to stay exactly as they are, sometimes you jettison the past with such a ferocity it starts to scare you.

Let's back up half a tick. This new year/decade has mysteriously been serving as an excuse to shake things up, to try something new. I'm moving (not surprising really, considering the current pad should be condemned, or at the very least gutted and remodeled), I'm seriously on a diet, and I shaved off my beard.

I'll give you folks at home a moment to let that last part sink in.

It's gone, vanished, disappeared into the ether. I hacked off something I've carried around with me for over a year straight, and with a few short breaks, damn near three. Admittedly I look a little goofy. There's no hiding that awkward double-chin that says hello when I tilt my head down. My hair is cut pretty short too, so I seem to be some strange descendant of Curly Howard who hasn't quite got his ancestor's baby smooth skull. I may grow the beard back out, then again I may not. But for now it's off; let's see how it goes.

Aside from jettisoning my facial hair, I'm also jettisoning a bunch of my Stuff (yes, that's capital 'S' Stuff). Stuff that has accumulated since freshman year of college, Stuff I haven't looked at in years and quite frankly am having a hard time remembering why the hell I was holding onto it in the first place. Papers. old t-shirts, VHS tapes that I have on DVD, Stuff like that. Mainly I didn't want to move it yet again, but as I was going through it, my resistance to throwing/giving away my Stuff was shockingly low. I plan on making my third trip to goodwill tomorrow to give away my Stuff, and I'll probably be going back there again.

Starting this week, I'll also be selling a few select items. An unused but still useful computer & monitor. My fantastic 27" flatscreen CRT television that is a modern antique, the end of 60+ years of cathode ray tech that is currently the last thing I can play Duck Hunt on. My dining table set, coffee table and couch I'm giving to my current roommates, if they want them. If not, they're all going on the auction block too.

At this point I should address what some of you are thinking, and no, I'm not planning on committing suicide or leaving the state, never to be heard from again. I just feel the need to CHANGE some of the things in my life, and now is a great time. Now is perfect. It's time to regenerate, which brings me back to the theme of this missive. Please bear with me as I nerd out for a sec...

For those who don't know (or care), the BBC show "Doctor Who" is the world's longest running science-fiction program. It debuted in 1963 on the day JFK was shot (great timing, that), and originally ran until 1989, then had this random TV movie in 1996, then came back in 2005 and still going strong. It follows the adventure of an alien known as the Doctor, who travels through time and space and, when injured and facing death, can "regenerate" his form, thus restoring his health and allowing for another actor to take over the titular role. Although the actors look and act differently than each other, they are all playing the same person, with the same memories and attitudes and abilities as the man before him. Most recently, the very popular Tenth Doctor, played by David Tennant, regenerated into the Eleventh Doctor, who is played by Matt Smith (my personal jury's still out on the new kid, we'll see if that Flock of Seagulls hair ruins the show or not).

"Why are you telling me this? I don't give a shit about British TV or Time Lords or Flock of Seagulls haircuts!" Fine, I'll wrap this up. The point of all this is to say that everyone has this ability to regenerate themselves. I'm not talking about completely changing who someone is, where they reinvent themselves into something unrecognizable as they were before. I'm talking about renewal, keeping my core being the same ranting, nerdy, charming, slightly loony self the same, while regenerating into a newer, hopefully better man.

Like this guy.

That's the hope, anyways. I feel like the last eight or nine months have been speeding towards this newest regeneration. My last self had a hell of a run, but it's time for change. And change feels good. ALLONS-Y!

The future looks damn familiar...

So here we are, sitting 48 hours into a brand new year, one that actually sounds like it is the future. We can stop referring to the year as "two thousand and...", as if its just a temporary temporal ailment, that at any moment we'll be propelled safely back into the warm familiar embrace of the 20th century. Nope, it's the future.

And I'll be damned if I don't like it.

Those who are close to me (hell, even casual acquaintances) know my fondness for science. Okay, my nerd boner for science. Yet here we are in the future, no jetpack, no lunar or Martian bases, no widespread sustainable energy. But that's not why I'm feeling disappointed.

No, it's the utter selfishness, stupidity, and general ineptness of the people that have me pissed off. Specifically those people in charge.

Between the obscene, vomit-inducing greed of our financial system, to the hypocritical politicians on both sides who care for none of those in their charge, to the insane and illogical religious fanaticism that has become disturbingly more prevalent over the past decade. I have passed judgment on the first decade of the 21st century, and have found it mired in our basest desires and greater failings of a species.

The future I want and we need cannot happen if we continue down this path. Changes need to be made, real substantial course correction before the great and bountiful human empire collapses under its own grotesque weight. So, my fellow compatriots, are my Rules for the Future, effective immediately:

1) CHILL. THE. FUCK. OUT. This means everyone. From heads of state thumping their chests with nuclear weapons to that Jersey Shore guy who punched that chick, knock that shit off. We are better than that, stop acting like children. Considering we don't have the aforementioned off-world colonies yet, at the moment we only have this one planet, and we have to share it.

2) If you don't contribute positively to society, you have no right to bitch. Me? I help bring television to the masses, the greatest gift of all. I also recycle, bathe regularly, and continuously educate myself. If all you do is breed and have a bad attitude, us productive people reserve the right to punch you and your ill-behaved children in the face.

3) Don't litter. I saw some douchebag littler in front of my work and it took all my restraint not to snap his fucking neck.

4) Religious fanatics of all stripes, this one's for you - nobody gives two shits about how perfect your God is and how the rest of us heathens are living in sin and must be punished. If you're dumb enough to think you have ANY idea what a supreme being is thinking, then rule #2 applies TWICE as much to you. And for fuck's sake, stop trying to blow up shit. It's very annoying.

5) Speaking of air travel, the TSA is a joke. They can't tell the difference between an Indian and an Arab, having Grandma take off her shoes is retarded, and you have a greater chance of being killed by a bolt of lightning than having a terrorist blow up your plane. PLUS, as the latest idiot in Detroit showed us, we common folk are fed up with your terrorist shit and will jump your ass, which makes the TSA redundant.

6) Those rich assholes who nearly brought the global economy crashing down should be lined up and shot. Or, if you're against capital punishment, we'll allow anyone to line up everyday from 9am-6pm to kick these Wall Street pricks in the nuts. One kick per customer, please. He have to keep this line moving.

7) Let's take 10% of the Defense budget, and funnel it towards the following: infrastructure repair, education, medical research, sustainable energy and NASA. Our children are sick and ignorant, let's fix that.

8) As for you young'ns, you are a pathetic excuse for human beings. Between your horrible diet, sexting, and abysmal taste in entertainment (I mean, Jonas Brothers, really?), your ancestors would be ashamed of having contributed to your existence. Please figure out something interesting to say, because you are also very boring.

9) Who keeps giving Dick Cheney heart transplants? Can't this sad, pathetic troll crawl under a bridge somewhere and resume terrorizing billy goats already?

10) Grown-ups, you aren't off the hook either. As a former child, I entrusted you to take charge and do things correctly. And what do you do instead? You start wars because the misses ain't giving it up like she used to, you place sycophants and imbeciles in jobs that require talent and skill, and have generally made a bloody mess of things. I'm done listening to you. Shape up or get the fuck out of the way.

Now, I know what you must be thinking. "Wow Cory, you sure do sound bitter. I thought you were more of an optimist. When was the last time you got laid?" I'm not bitter. Really, I'm not. I used to be until my moment of shakabuku I had last year. I'm just....disappointed. We are capable of being amazing. We sent people to Moon, we create works of art that last centuries, we've evolved our bodies, our relationships, and our societies to become the dominant species on the planet. We have these moments of brilliance that almost bring me to shed tears of joy. But whenever I read the news, most of what I hear is pathetic, enraging, and just plain sad.

So here's a resolution from a man who doesn't do resolutions. I resolve to make the future I want, even if I have to drag the entirety of the human race kicking and screaming along for the ride. No hesitation, damn the torpedoes, I'm going in head first. I want my goddamned jet pack. And I'm getting ones for the rest of you fuckers, whether you like it or not.

Packing up 2009

Hell, an entire decade. When the "Aughts" began, I was a junior in high school, and as they end I've hit several major milestones in my life. End of high school. The entirety of college. First live-in girlfriend. First job I truly hated. Watching one of my films on a (sort of) big screen. Layoffs and hires, several apartments, new and old roommates.

Now I'm 27, officially in my late 20's. Funny, I don't feel like an adult. It's true that I have more responsibilities, in both my personal and professional life, than I've ever had before. I'm now commonly addressed as Mr. Parker, and its hit or miss when bouncers check my ID. Yet I still view myself as a kid, a youngster whose parents have allowed him to stay up late and hang with the adults. If you are really only as old as you feel, then I feel as young as when I started the decade.

Except when I don't. Time marches on, even if I play the role of Peter and deny its effects. My back aches sometimes when I stress it. The occasional throb ripples forth from my knee. My hair is most definitely thinner than it was. I've been to funerals, weddings, said goodbye to old friends and hello to new ones. Time has laid her marks on me, whether I admit it or not.

In many respects I have changed, noticeably and greatly. I think I'm more comfortable with my life than I used to be. There was a solid period in the 2000's where I was a grumpy person, someone who grumbled at any situation, confident that my pessimistic outlook was reflective of truth. That attitude mellowed quite a bit, and earlier this year, upon hearing that I (along with all my co-workers) was to be laid off, I experienced what I will refer to as shakabuku - that swift spiritual kick to the head that alters one's perspective forever. I'm much happier than I used to be, and even when I complain, its with the knowledge that it could be worse. It could be raining.

So here I sit on the eve of heading home for a long weekend, celebrating another holiday season with those I love back home in the great state of Alaska. I can truly say I have two homes now, for as my soul belongs to the Great Land, it took a trip to New York City to come to terms with the fact that my heart belongs to Los Angeles. When I think of home it is finally L.A. I think of, a position I never would of thought to be in ten years ago. Evolution is real, it happens on scales grand and small. Often it takes a milestone to give us the briefest of pauses, a chance to look back in contemplation, a moment to catch our breath, smile like an idiot, then propel ourselves into that great unknown that is the future. Some people fear tomorrow; I embrace it tightly and with all the promise that a new lover brings.

Merry Christmas, everyone. See you on the other side.

2 out of 5 boroughs ain't bad

I've come to the conclusion that, for now, 48 hours in New York City is the proper amount of time. This isn't a complaint; indeed, I very much enjoyed my visit there. Hot dogs at 3am. Last call at 4am. The subway system that allows for the complete avoidance of taxi cabs of you're willing to hoof it.

Seeing my latest film screened and having actual audience members whom I didn't know attend was my favorite moment, as lowkey as the actual event was. Screened in the conference room of a Holiday Inn, it shouted "film festival" about as much as deaf mute could, but it worked. For sixteen minutes while my film played out, projected on a smallish screen, the assembled becaume an audience. People laughed where I hoped they would, the applauded truthfully, not politely, and one guy even gave me his business card. Granted, he could have been hitting on me. I am devastatingly good-looking.

What was probably my second favorite moment occured the morning Nate and I arrived. Landed at 5am, check in not until noon, we killed time by heading into Manhattan. Jesus, the wind was blowing. Dirt got in my eye, Nate was sans jacket and therefore freezing. But what made it worthwhile was seeing New York go to work. Times Square was strangely empty, the only pedestrians scurrying to work; it was, after all, just another Thursday. There is work to be done, by God, time to get indoors and crunch the numbers. And much like school hallways after the tardy bell has rung, by 10am the streets were devoid of proper citizens, leaving the tourists and unfortunates out in the cold. We finally

-- Post script: This is what remains of a rather lengthy blog post I wrote as I waited for my plane to take off from JFK. The wonderfully little shitty app I was using (the name of which escapes me presently) decided to only send what you read above. Let this post stand as a monument to those times where technology stifles or kills creativity by buggin' out.