Cheeseburger Haiku - Little Owl

When the burger gods decreed that Little Owl would be the next burger up for some hot haiku action, I was more than enthused. The prospect of having a burger served to me by women in revealing clothing was already adding extra syllables to my haiku if you know what I'm sayin'. As it turns out and contrary to popular belief, Little Owl is not the A-cup equivalent of a Hooters restaurant. It is rather, a brunch place in the West Village filled with young couples making kissy faces at one another over their fancy French donuts. Disgusting! I'm trying to eat a burger here, not discuss an article I read in the Times or talk about that poetry reading I attended last night. And do you really need that silly hat? Young people, bah.

So now what? I'm there for a burger, but I've been handed a brunch menu. At first I was all like, 'brunch, wha?' but then after I looked at the menu I was like 'Bacon cheeseburger brunch, hecks yes.'

I seriously considered getting a beer to wash it down, but since I was still brushing the sleepy-sand from my eyes I decided against it and went for a carbonated soft drink instead. I patiently awaited my burger while avoiding all eye contact with the 'brunch people.' Seriously, brunch people treat brunch like it's some holy occasion. It's almost cult-like. And not go and see Big Lebowski dressed as the Dude cult-like, but carpet cleaning cult-like.

Brunch isn't anything special, to quote a no-good wife-courting French bowling instructor, "It's not quite breakfast, it's not quite lunch, but it comes with a slice of cantaloupe at the end. You don't get completely what you want at breakfast, but you get a good meal." Does anyone really like cantaloupe? I didn't think so. Whatever you do, don't drink the brunch-people Kool-Aid. No meal needs a slice of melon at the end. The only melons the Cheeseburger Haiku needs can be double-entrendred for via nocturnal birds. (Boobs. I was referring to boobs.)

My brunch finally came. A steamy pile of cheesy, bacony meat. It looked delicious and it smelled delicious. Experiencing such sensory bleed through made me ponder if I was experiencing some kind of burger-related synesthesia, so I took a bite. It tasted delicious too. All of my perceptions were set to one channel. It was like someone turned the dial to 'delicious' and then took the remote into the kitchen and fixed a snack, and by the time the snack was fixed the remote was forgotten, thus leaving the dial stuck on delicious. The burger felt delicious. The burger sounded delicious. The burger saw dead people delicious. It was delicious o'clock. And the temperature in the restaurant was delicious. You know that feeling you get when you know someone is staring at you? That was delicious. Every single mode of perception was delicious. Brain freeze delicious. Over there delicious. Mama bear protecting her young delicious. Ultraviolet delicious. Bitch in heat delicious. Infrared delicious. Dolphin sonar delicious.

The Little Owl bacon cheeseburger in a word was: very good.

It was greasy and it was big. It was perfectly shaped and cooked to perfection. It was everything a burger should be and it even came with the most American of cheeses, American cheese. You don't hear much about American cheese these days. It's just not that exciting. I'll admit, the Cheeseburger Haiku often overlooks this most basic of burger cheeses for some other, fancier cheese--you're about as likely to find some Kraft singles in my fridge as you are to find some J. Biebs and Katy Perry singles in my music library (Alright, alright, I'll cop to the Bieber, but I can assure you there are no Katy Perry singles in my music collection, so please don't look. I don't even know why I brought that up. Just forget that last analogy, okay?)

Coming in at 16 bucks this is the most expensive burger on the 'ku, but it was worth every penny. I award Little Owl a full Cheeseburger Haiku recommendation.

Cheeseburger Haiku - Island Burger, part 3

Occupy Burger Town.

Did you know that the top 1% of all burgers have 40% of all burger deliciousness? Or how about that 133 out of the country's best 150 burgers contain bacon, while 78 of that number contain avocado or guacamole. Some say that those two ingredients are unfairly represented on the tasty burger scale, claiming that the ratings are skewed by some outside, malevolent influence. Lately, a lot of people getting up in arms about the inequality of burger deliciousness. Which is why we here at the Cheeseburger Haiku have decided to Occupy Burger Town.

Burger Town is not a place, but a state of mind, or, more specifically, a state of eating--burgers. Every time you are woofing down a burger, the population of Burger Town rises by one. Founded concurrent to the first time someone slapped a hamburger patty between a bun and chompy chomped it, Burger Town has a rich, storied past. Through the years it has been frequented by billions of passers-by, tourists and time-share owners. No one can live in Burger Town permanently, they can only visit it whenever hunger strikes. This hasn't stopped people from trying, however.

Harking back to the 17th century was Hansel von Grawbadinger who tried to continuously eat burgers. Having shoved an impressive 62 cheeseburgers down his throat in just three hours, he died due to drowning in meat, or as the Arkmoor Tribune claimed: "He was strong of both heart and mouth. Twas the insufficient processing at the back end which provided his his demise." Then there was Wilma 'The Gnasher' Harrington who squandered her widow's inheritance on constructing a burger as big as her house. After eating out the center, she lived in the burger house and ate the walls whenever hunger struck, dying a few weeks in to the endeavor due to spoiled meat. And who can forget Augustus H. Cromwell, the scourge of Brighton Rock, who famously trained mice to cook the tiniest burgers ever ("No bigger than a kitten's nipple," as he would often note), so that he may throw back a continuous stream of burgers into his gullet. The plan worked to perfection until delirious old Miss Crenshaw from up the street left the stove on after morning tea and burned her forty-six room manor down, letting loose an army of malnourished, borderline feral house cats into the neighborhood, where they quickly got smart to the mouse-burger factory. Suffice it to say, but Burger Town was overrun with cats during the autumn of 1907, which led to the provision in the Burger Town town charter proclaiming a standard size for admission (and thereby excluding the burger appetizer commonly referred to as the 'slider').

With all of those who have spectacularly failed to occupy Burger Town in the past, what makes us at Cheeseburger Haiku think we're up to the task? We're not, at least not by ourselves. The Cheeseburger Haiku is calling on you and the rest of our burger brethren to take up arms by taking up burgers. Munch down those delicious all-beef patties at any opportunity you get, and when to arrive in Burger Town, take up the chant of the people: "We are the Cheeseburger Haiku! We are the Cheeseburger Haiku!" Make yourselves heard. Tell the world that all burgers should be delicious. That just because a burger commingles with bacon or successfully lobbies for guacamole that it isn't inherently better than the other burgers, or a big, unfair-share-of-deliciousness hoarding jerk burger. Those burgers shouldn't be punished for their deliciousness. It's the other burgers that need to step it up. Let's make bacon the standard and provide an opt-out policy for any weirdos who don't appreciate it. Let's subsidize the guacamole business so that it's as common as ketchup. Take it to the streets of Burger Town. Tell it to the Burgermeister: I am the 99% (who love burgers with bacon and guacamole).

That's what we here at the 575 did this past weekend. We marched right on into the Island Burger (new location!) and ordered the Pepe, consisting of bacon, guacamole, blackened, grilled onion and lettuces. It was a right-good burger, one I've already written about, and thus making it the first repeat burger on the Cheeseburger Haiku.

Cheeseburger Haiku - Elevation Burger

...and we're back!

Sorry to leave y'all high and dry on the burger haiku front for these past few weeks, but the staff of Cheeseburger Haiku decided to take a little hiatus coming out of the intense summer season. But forget all that, we're back now and that's what matters. The first burger to start the new school year is from Elevation Burger, a quasi-hippie burger joint.

"Quasi-hippie?" You're probably saying to yourself in disgust. I understand, and I'm sorry, but I was hungry and I had just finished bowling (for the low, low price for $12.95 a game) and I needed a burger. This place looked like it sold burgers, so the good folks of Cheeseburger Haiku decided to test the waters. Allow me to explain you what a quasi hippie burger place does: 1) they don't feed their cows with spare cow parts and instead feed them lawn clippings, 2) they let their stupid cows just go wherever they want and make them suffer through the agony of flies buzzing around they heads instead of dousing them with bug spray while they out in yon fields, 3) they cook their fries in the same stuff that the ancient Greeks used to bathe themselves in (olive oil), and 4) they sure as shit like drawing your attention to just how eco-friendly their food is.

Here at the Cheeseburger Haiku, we prefer to eat meals from cows that have been fed other cows, which grew to slaughterin' size on other cows, which ate their mama cows, and so on. This is because of the concept of compound deliciousness. If one cow is delicious, then certainly a cow fed other cows would delicious plus some fraction of deliciousness from the old cow. Some quack scientist will tell you that this could lead to mad cow disease, but we say psshha! more like mad-delicous cow. The only thing that could be mas delicioso would be if the cows were hand-fed bacon by John Goodman.

Additionally, we are of the consensus that the freedom to range freely is a cage in and of itself. In the age of the constant media blitz, we are bombarded with choice after choice after choice. There is so much to do that most people usually end up doing nothing but reading burger blogs day in, day out. Our freedom of choice actually restricts us, which is why the best art is not free-form, open-ended art, but highly structured art with strict rules and guidelines. I'm talking about the 5-7-5. I'm talking about the haiku. The Cheeseburger Haiku. Now if the cows are out gallivanting around, surfing the internet, flipping through the channels and just being generally blase about life, then they're not going to focus on the timeless art of being delicious. We need to get them cows back on the factory floor and submit them to 24 hours a day of sub-, supra-, and ultra- liminal deliciousness training.

So how about the burger? I got the Elevation Burger, which is double meat, double cheese (real cheddar), with my choice of toppings. I chose pickles, grilled onions, ketchup and lettuce. When I got the burger, it became apparent that this was just fancy fast food. It came wrapped in paper and was all greasy with the cheese oozing out. It looked pretty promising. It tasted a little like grass. Just a little though. The olive oil-fried fries were overcooked and soggy, requiring copious amounts of ketchup. The brightest spot of meal time was the root beer--which I believe was call Wild Bill's Root Beer. This root beer was fed root beer directly into it's roots and so on and so forth down the line back to the time when Wild Bill himself first decided he likee him some root beer.

Overall, the burger experience was decent and I would likely eat there again if there were a location nearer to my 'hood. in other words, I'm not going out of my way to go to Elevation Burger, even with the frequent burger-er punch card they gave me.

Cheeseburger Haiku - P.J. Clarke's

I certainly have been eating a lot of burgers as of late, and I think that's why I've been stuck in a state of burger ennui. Not that I don't like eating burgers and lots of 'em, but eating burgers carries with it the responsibility of sitting down and trying to think of something clever to say about my experience, and the phrase 'too much of a good thing' comes to mind when I think about my recent burger escapades, my summer burger extravaganza, so I took a couple of weeks off from burgering and haikuing to recharge my burger batteries. Which is why this burger I ate three weeks ago is just being haikued about today.

It's been an entire year since I started cataloging every burger I've eaten--only two burgers absent from review--and a wonderful year it has been, but the rest was mucho needed. This burger lull may also be attributed to my relative busy summer schedule couple with who-the-hell-wants-to-do-burger-poetry-when-it's-this-freakin'-nice-out syndrome. I expect to get back into the swing of things soon, so look for the most explosive cheeseburger haiku of all ever.

Here's a sweet Devin Townsend song I've been rocking out to: Deconstruction. Sorry, but I I could not embed. Here's a picture of me with Cap's shield instead.

Allow me to say a few words about the most recent burger. It was the Cadillac Burger from PJ Clarke's; it cost 14 bucks. It was a really small burger and not worth 14 bucks. The rest of the menu looked delicious, and if I go back I'm not going to spend 14 bucks on a small burger, even though it was a tasty burger.

Cheeseburger Haiku - 5 Napkin Burger, Round 2

Well, there are just a few things about certain...well, about certain burgers, that I just don't like very well. That thing is, well, burgers that are well done.

So I found myself back at the Five Napkin Burger, a different location, but same pricey meats. This time I was with my gal pal's fadda, step-mudda and two bruddas, and being the free-loading chap that I am, I accompanied them to dinner. After some scintillating pre-dinner conversation about all things Bieber (I was steering the conversation, not the 14 or 12 year old boys), I ordered the bacon cheeseburger, medium. I know I said 'medium,' because I always say 'medium.' It's like my catch-phrase. The chap opposite myself--not a fan of the Bieber--also ordered a bacon cheeseburger, well done. After the waitress left I reprimanded the young lad for ordering charred meat and exhorted him to in the future get a little pink in his meat.

When the burger came I did what I always do: I woofed that sucker down. The whole family stopped at stared at me like I was some sort of animal, I should have felt more awkward, but I didn't. Woofin' burgers is just how I roll. Only halfway through the burger I realized that there was a certain suckness to the burger, it was_dun dun dun!_well done. gasp! The boy, the Bieber hatin' boy, had my medium burger. It looked all pink and succulent and juicy; mine was a hot turd between two buns. The only logical explanation is that the waitress got me confused with a 14 year old, which I guess makes much sense because I am so boyishly handsome.

The meat was overcooked and dry. The bacon and cheese were fine, as was the bread, but the burger had no soul. It was a heathen burger. And if I wasn't four beers in I wager I could have eaten the entire burger without the aid of a single napkin. There's not much else to say about my experience, except for that I hope that kid knows the great service I done did him.

Movie Time - 6.11 and 7.11

Movie Time 6.11 and 7.11
Confession time: I find it difficult to sit through an entire movie. Thanks a lot internet. At this point in my life I’m much more inclined to turn on an episode of a TV show on Netflix than I am a movie. I would go on a rant about how much crap Hollywood is churning out these days, but I have the same problem for really good movies and movies that I love, as well as the duds: about halfway through I get a case of RBS (restless bum syndrome) and I just can’t sit still anymore. There are over a hundred titles on my Netflix queue and a thousand more I keep up in my noggin that I want to watch someday. But it’s becoming clear that most movies I think I want to see will not, in fact, be seen by me. Perhaps one day I’ll have much better butt stamina and will be able to sit through Once Upon a Time in America in one sitting, but until then I’ll just keep catching up on the TV shows that I want to see.

Since I’ve all but stricken regular, commercial-filled TV from my schedule (aside from Jon Stewart and Colbert, that is) most of my TV watching comes in the form of Netflix these days. So in no particular order, here is what I’ve been enjoying since the beginning of the year: Veronica Mars, Cheers, Jericho, The Larry Sanders Show, Freaks and Geeks, The Simpsons, Parks and Recreation, Shameless, 24, and Party Down. I’d recommend any of those shows, but Freaks and Geeks in particular.

Now since I don’t feel like adding yet another feature to the blog, I’m just going to stick with reviewing movies for the time being. I should mention that I don’t dislike watching movies, just that I often have to take a break and get a butt massage.

Cheeseburger Haiku - Paul's Da Burger Joint, version 2.0

Announcing Cheeseburger Haiku and You!

Hello all you burger lovers out there, today we've got a very special Cheeseburger Haiku in store for you. In this very special episode of Cheeseburger Haiku, we are going to tear off the cover and take a look inside the workings of this tightly run cheeseburger expose. After reading this you--yes you!--will be able to create your own Cheeseburger Haiku. The following is a step by step walk through of everything you need to know about the art of Cheeseburger Haiku, set to the tone of our most recent cheeseburger escapade: Paul's Da Burger Joint, part deux.

Step 1: Decide to eat a burger. This is the easiest step, because if you're anything like us then eating a burger is your default state and you actively have to restrain yourself from eating burgers every moment of every day. Example: it was a Saturday, and we were all like 'Mmm. Burgertime.' And then bam! it was burger time.

Step 2: Pick yo' burger venue. To pick your burger place, assess your surroundings. Are you near a grill? Then consider throwing some hamburger on the barbie. Is it 2 o'clock in the morning and you hella crunk? Jack in the Box it is. Remember: this is America, and in America you can get a burger at any and every restaurant. And if they don't have burgers, you need to do what every red-blooded American is bound to do: call the CEA, the Cheeseburger Enforcement Agency. Example of how to pick a burger venue: Man, that Paul's Da Burger Joint was the bee's knees last time we ate there, let's hop on the 2 train and take a ride to the lower east side. (Note: your though process does not have to sound like a beat poet.)

Step 3: What kind of burger do you want? To decide what burger you want to eat, consult your belly. It shant steer you wrong. If you want bacon (You want bacon.) get bacon. If you want avocado get avocado, but we all know what you really want is guacamole. How do you want it cooked? What kind of cheese? These are the types of questions that a real take-charge, go-getter can answer with minimal practice. You can do it! Example: Paul's has a burger entitled the Soul Burger. It has ham on it. It has bacon on it. Done, decision made. Bring it to us at once wench!

Very important: you will want to devour the burger the moment it hits the table. You must restrain yourself for long enough to take a photograph, preferably with a digital camera of some sort.

Step 4: Eat the burger. No explanation necessary. Example: I eated the burger.

Step 5: Reflection. As you pat yourself dry from the unavoidable meat-sweats, ponder your experience. Here at the Cheeseburger Haiku, the actual act of eating the burger is somewhere between a Buddhist trance and a moment of meat-induced mindless insanity. Try to do your best to recall: what you liked, what you disliked, how the bottom bun held up, etc. Like the half pound of meat you just ate, the reflecting may take up to several days to fully digest. Example: After eating da Soul Burger, I got crunk off of several Belgian beers.

Step 6: Haiku time. Now's the time to shine. A haiku is a Chinese poem that has only three lines, so it sucks a lot less than other poems. The first and third line have five syllables apiece, while the middle line has seven, making it the biggest, or meatiest, part of the poem. Be creative, describe your burger, the experience, anything burger related. We like to use a web service called picfont to place the text on the picture. Example:

I've always said that fan haikus were encouraged, but now I'm going to do one more:  the two best reader submitted Cheeseburger Haikus will be awarded a download code for an album of their choosing*.



*Assuming their choosing is either Clutch - Strange Cousins From the West or Queens of the Stone Age - Queens of the Stone Age.

Cheeseburger Haiku - The Motherburger

We all knew this day would come: the Cheeseburger Haiku heads back to it's roots, the mythical town of San Lobobo, as decreed in prophecy, to eat, and enjoy, the fabled Motherburger. Nigh twenty-six years ago, an unfathomable awesomeness was unleashed upon the earth, as though Pandora's box contained Van Halen 1.5--a full ten tracks between "On Fire" and "You're No Good" unheard by mortal ears; a version of Rocky IV where Apollo Creed knocks the Russian out in one punch and celebrates alongside James Brown to finish the last verse of "Living in America" whilst dancing over the felled Russian; and lastly a dog that plays the main riff to Warren Zevon's "Werewolves in London" on the piano and howls the chorus. That awesomeness would go on to eat a lot of burgers, many of them Motherburgers, and develop a deep appreciation for all that is burgery. The return of the prodigal burgerboy-turned-burgerman, inevitable though it was, happened upon a most welcome welcoming.

The showdown with the Motherburger happened on an evening not unlike any other evening. A cool breeze blew through the dust-blown streets of Lobobo, a solitary tumbleweed paused impatiently and waited for a family of ducks to cross the street, and a group of young boys, each named Louie B., played marbles in the street speaking in the rough accent of 50 year smokers. Ordinary night, until the Cheeseburger Haiku brushed in past the screen door and ordered (actually, was offered any dinner of his choosing because he's such a widdle cutie pie) the Motherburger.

Contrary to what the media tells you, we do not only eat burgers. That is an false claim spread by them no-good wollywoggers at Sandwich Sonnet. The truth is, the royal we heartily enjoy the burrito. The Cheeseburger Haiku ate a burrito before attempting the Motherburger. Hold onto this nugget of knowledge for later in the review.

Dinner time came and we were still full from the burrito, not to mention the nachos that were devoured sometime between burrito and burger. I wasn't going to let that hold me down. I wasn't going to let that take my pride, oh no, I had to keep on chomping. The Motherburger, as grilled by YT, was delicious. Actually, it was more like two fat guys standing out in the cold with their shirts off holding signs, one that is just a big "D" and the other that says "lishus." Here's the poop: bacon, avocado, colby jack cheese, ketchup, and the secret weapon: Weber Grill Mates burger seasonings mixed in to the meat. A side of homemade potato salad and some fruit salad straddled the Motherburger, while a green salad hovered off in the distance like a stupid moon. Normally, we don't mess with green stuff, but it was furnished by grandma, so I had to be polite and all. Bah! Lots of fixin's to accompany an already massive burger. The showdown was to be one for the ages. And let's not forget to mention the delicious homebrew provided by Booze Brothers Inebriated.

Chomp. Woof. Garble woof. Garble woof chomp. Garble. Garble. Chomp chomp chomp. Woof chomp garble woof chomp chomp garble. Woof. Woof. Woof. Fart. Gobble gobble gobble gobble. Fart fart fart. It was an epic battle, but in the end, the Motherburger bested me. Though I demand a rematch.

Cheeseburger Haiku - The Pollard

MONTANA - Recently the cheeseburger haiku eating team went abroad into Big Sky country and stopped at the newest hotspot in the bustling town of Red Lodge, MT. As soon as we disembarked off of the plane in Montana we knew that eating vegetables was off of the table; it is, after all, home to more cows than people [1].

In the land known to them Spanish-speakin' types as 'Mountain,' I knew I would be in for a burger extravaganza, since this is the state that one slaughtered a whopping 17 cows to produce the world record 6,000 pound burger [2]. Six-thousand pounds people! LBs! As in Lotta Burger.

Friday: lunch time: belly a-rumblin': only one option: burger time: that burger: the Pub Burger from: The Pollard Pub; diagnosis: delicious [3].

The burger was ordered off of the menu [4] and came with the following ackootremah: Irish style Bacon, White Cheddar, Grilled Onion, Lettuce, Tomato and Herb & Garlic Mayonnaise. All of that on a Cheboughtta bread roll. Disclaimer: the Pollard is the fanciest place in Red Lodge, which explains the extravagance of the $9.95 price tag on this beast of a burger.

The Cheeseburger Haiku would not have gone to such a hoity toity place as this if it weren't for my city ways. As I inquired about town as to where might be the best place to procure a burger, I was met by grizzled stares of the locals and felt as though they were peering into my soul. They knew I was a city boy. 'City boy, huh?' They'd scowl with a soothing voice the sound of a spoon in the garbage disposal. After hawking a wad into common-as-streetlights spittoon, they'd say, 'Try the Bollard, you lily livered crapturd.'

Apparently 'crapturd' is a common derogatory term for out-of-towners in the land of big sky [5].

Anyway, to the Pollard the CB-ku crew went and we were impressed. The burger was magnificent. Every single bite was delicious and I could not recommend this burger enough. This is the kind of burger that you plan entire vacations for, hell, retirements even!

Well, it wasn't that good. But it was pretty damn good and that's that. [6].

Cheeseburger Haiku - Corner Bistro

A burger was eaten by me at the Corner Bistro, located at 331 West 4th St. in the West Village. According to many, this is among the best burgers NYC has to offer. According to me, it was oddly formed.

In what many burgerologists decry as heresy, the Corner Bistro bucks all trends and has the nerve to call a meatball between two buns a burger. Quite a risky move, if I may say so myself, to put a ball of meat where a stout cylinder is the norm. In avoidance of the dramatic, I'd like to disclose that it was not, in fact, a meatball rather it was a thick burger (almost 2''maximum girth) and was actually pretty small as a bird would see it. That is, it was big on the z-axis yet Cartesianlly challenged. I, and many of my burgerologist colleagues, maintain that this is not the proper way to form a patty. A burger should be round on the edges only with a gentle--gentle--tapering towards the center to ensure that the thickness of the patty never exceeds one-half of its radius.

Cheeseburger Haiku - Five Guys

Five guys burger. It's a chain in New York. So what? You wanna fight about it?

After seeing various Five Guys locations around Manhattan, I decided to give them a try. The word of mouth on this burger is surprisingly good, New Yorkers rave about it like Californians rave about In-N-Out Burger. I'm here to report that, just like In-N-Out, this burger is serviceable albeit overrated. Don't get me wrong, I liked the burger but I just wasn't crazy about it. For fast foot it's good, better than most, but just like all the others what you're tasting is not the meat but the meat-flavored oil they use to cook the burgers in. This is just a theory of mine (since I'm in no mood to go a-Googling on how these burgers are made), but I'm pretty sure its the case. This burger even tasted a lot like In-N-Out, perhaps they get their oil from the same place.

One neat thing about Five Guys is you pay a flat price for a burger and then all the toppings are free. This allows for an entirely customizable burger experience. With all of this power at my fingers I opted for grilled onions, ketchup, pickles and lettuce. I think I chose wisely, as this is a very no-frills burger that doesn't stretch the pallet too far. As I mentioned before, the flavor came from the grease, and so my bun was greasy on the top and the bottom--SBB's dastardly cousin. It wasn't overly bad, but make sure you pack extra napkins with this burger, which I should mention comes as a double patty delight. For cheese, the standard is American cheese, which is the standard cheese for fast foot burgers' cheese.

The fries were over-cooked and not good, I do not recommend them or the Cajun variety, which were overly seasoned. To wash it all down, I had a Troeg's Amber Ale. A fine ale indeed.

And now, a haiku entitled: five-seven-five guys.

Music Notes 5.11

Kylesa - Spiral Shadow


Heck yes Kylesa! Though this band has been on my radar for quite some time, I had never heard any of their stuff until I bought this album on somewhat of a whim earlier this month. I’m glad I did. This is exactly the type of music that sums up my current taste in music: stoner sensibilities, cosmic groovyness and some great ass-kicking roll-the-windows down songs. This album was practically on repeat the entire month, and in that month’s time, I can unabashedly put these guys right alongside Clutch, Fu Manchu and Kyuss as titans of the stoner rock genre. I’m sure I’ll be *spinning* this album all summer long, but not without checking out this band’s other efforts.

Cheeseburger Haiku - Big Nick's

Big Josh and Big Nick

Is there such a thing as the best burger in the world? Let's ponder on this for a moment. The art of burger is a fairly rigid one; for a cheeseburger to be a cheeseburger it must take on the following attributes: a bun, a ground patty of meat (no veggies please, I'm a purist) and cheese. That's it, that's a cheeseburger. With those three ingredients one can conquer nations or poison the masses, or anything in between those two extremes. Through combinatorial calculations it can be estimated that with all of the breads to bake, cheeses to melt and animals to grind, that there are approximately five trillion possible different cheeseburger configurations, and this isn't even taking into account levels of cooked-ness. All those possible burgers and I haven't even mentioned ketchup, mustard, bacon, double bacon or mushrooms or any of a thousand things that can top a burger. There are a lot of possible burgers, many of which have never been eaten. For instance, I'm thinking of a ground flamingo burger with American cheese on challah bread. Has anyone had that? Oh yeah smart guy, well then I'll just top it off with a splash of Tobasco and ham and pastrami.

Fun fact: if I were to eat a burger once a second for the known age of the universe then I would be as fat as the universe.

Movie Time 5.11

Stripes - This early 1980’s screwball comedy has all the benchmarks of the great comedies of that era: a stellar cast that includes one or more of the following: Bill Murray, Chevy Chase, Dan Akyroid, Steve Martin, Harold Ramis, or John Candy (Stripes has three of them!); gratuitous booby scenes (yes! boobies!); racial jokes that you’re unsure whether whether to laugh at or not (protip: laugh, and then comment on how you’re not laughing at the joke, but rather you’re laughing at the fact that thirty years ago those types of jokes were okay for mainstream comedy movies); and a villainous presence depicted as either angry/ whiny aristocrats or commies. Honestly, Stripes has a lot going for it and the movie is great up to a point. That point: the end of the second act. This movie, like many other comedies from that era, as well as most comedies in general, lacks a third act that is actually funny. Once Bill Murray and co. graduate from their training the movie devolves into an unfunny action flick. Total bummer. I’ve been noticing this unfunny third act thing for a while now, and it’s something that generally bothers me about comedies. Now that I’m fully aware of this phenomenon, I’ll try to analyze it more in depth.

Fear and Loathing in Las Vegas - Remember when Johnny Depp didn’t play just a pirate, or some zany character in a shitty Tim Burton remake, or just flat out Johnny Depp? There’s a reason he is regarded as a great actor, and I think very little of that has to do with his body of work in the last ten years or so. This drug-fueled flick about drug-fueled journalists in the desert is a prime example of Depp’s acting prowess. While the movie wasn’t quite up my alley, I thought Depp was brilliant. He was the thing that kept my interest for the whole two hour drug trip, especially when things got ka-rayzee. I understand that this movie has achieved cult status in the years since its release, so I’m willing to give it the benefit of the doubt. I’m won’t say I liked or disliked it, but rather I future-liked the movie, since I feel as though it requires multiple viewings to totally grasp. Next time I watch it though, I’m going to need one of the following three things: someone who loves the movie to watch it with me, me to have just finished reading the novel, or tons (Nay: tons and tons) o’ drugs.

Books is Good, Mostly - Volume 4

Cat’s Cradle - Kurt Vonnegut

Throughout my teen years Chuck Palahniuk was my favorite author. I read all of his books and most of them several times over and I became pretty familiar with his style of writing and his darkly satirical wit. My love of his works reached a peak after I read Rant: An Oral History of Buster Casey. For me that book was the pinnacle of his writings and since then I haven’t found his new works to be as exciting or funny anymore. I’ve since been rummaging around for a new author on whom to hang my literary hat, a new Chuck Palahniuk, if you will.

This brings me to Kurt Vonnegut. I first read Slaughterhouse Five about three years ago and again at the end of 2010. Vonnegut was a name that was familiar to me, I had seen it over and over again in the quotes praising Palahniuk’s books, always something along the lines of ‘Palahniuk is like a modern day Kurt Vonnegut.’ It was only a matter of time before my search for a new Chuck Palahnuik led me to Kurt Vonnegut. As I read Cat’s Cradle I couldn’t help but make the same connection.

Vonnegut’s style is something that I can get behind. I like his deadpan delivery and no-frills prose, the way he’s able to make the absurd seem mundane while mocking the absurdity of the mundane. Ideas come left and right, some so brilliant they require you to stop and think, others so true that you’re convinced that you’ve had the very same thought a thousand times, though have never put it into words. He certainly has a way with those things.

Cheeseburger Haiku - Island Burger part 2

Greetings Burger Brethren! Welcome back to Cheeseburger Haiku, the poem about, and shaped like, the delicious tasty meat-bread-cheese trinity. In this edition, our resident burgermeister heads back to Island Burger for another go-round at the 60+ offerings on the menu. This time, the burger was called Pepe's. We're not sure who Pepe is, or what he did to earn his own burger, but he must have been something special. Following is a short history of the legend of Pepe, as relayed to the editors of Cheeseburger Haiku in the language of deliciousness:

Pepe was a hard man living in a hard time. His poncho was very big. On the rough plains of Tuscaloosa, Pepe was a donkey herder whose donkey farm was beset by the terrible donkey plague. All of his donkeys were dead or dying or dying to be dead. Pepe's rigid, tan features were  animated by tears for his poor donkeys far too often. One Thursday he saw an ill-portent: a hamster stuck in a hamster ball stuck in a giant tumbleweed tumbling east under a cloudless sky. Pepe was far too familiar with the omen: it had devastated his life once as a youngster already and he'd be darned if he was going to let it happen again, so he loaded up his least dead Donkey and rode out after the hamster stuck in a hamster ball stuck in a tumbleweed. Always just out of reach of his bounty, Pepe followed it all the way to the shores of the Carnie River. There at the banks of the river, he scooped up the ball and was about to give it a good punt into the blue sky, when a haggard witch approached him. After a tense stand off, with tons and tons of squinting, Pepe handed over the ball in exchange for immortality. That day, that very day, Island Burger devised a new burger and called it Pepe's. Then all of Pepe's donkeys got better and everyone was happy.

Music Notes 4.11

No ado. Here’s this month’s selections.

Wishbone Ash - Argus

It only makes sense that an album this awesome would fall through every crack imaginable so that I only find out about it accidentally while tracking down information for a different band. A month ago I had never even heard of Wishbone Ash, now they stand as a symbol of hope that there is a butt-ton of awesome 70’s rock just waiting to be discovered. I consider myself pretty knowledgeable when it comes to classic rock--at least for someone born well after the decade was up--but some bands you still really have to dig for. Wishbone Ash play a brand of rock and roll that falls somewhere in between progressive rock and proto-metal, making it a fine listen on a brisk Spring day. I can fully recommend this album to anyone who considers themselves a classic rock aficionado. It will not disappoint.

Cheeseburger Haiku - Paul's Da Burger Joint

I don't know who Paul is, but I like his Da Burgers. Today on the burger blog, the featured burger is the St. Mark's Burger from Paul's Da Burger Joint at the corner of St. Mark's Place and 2nd Avenue.

I think I should start this post by mentioning that any burger self applying the moniker of 'Da Burger' has lofty expectations to live up to--at least in the eyes of this cheeseburger haiku-er. Well, let me tell you that dis da burger was da bomb. Smothered in American cheese and covered with grilled mushrooms and onions, this was 8 oz. of pure badass burger. This thing was so sloppy that no mortal could woof it down without a heavily greased pile of wimpy napkins, or staining his denim so much as to give even Mr. Clean cause to scratch his melon and go 'Hmmm.'  One time Thor son of Odin tried to eat a burger from Paul's and he left the place with two grease gauntlets running all the way up the back of his hairy arms; after leaving his fingers were so greasy that he couldn't even manage to hold his grip on Mjollnir. In short, Thor was not worthy enough after eating a da burger from Paul's Da Burger Joint. What chance would I, a mere burger aficionado--or anyone for that matter--have against this beefy beast?

Cheeseburger Haiku - Josh Burger III

Hey y'all, we're back. And this time with another Josh burger attack. What we're serving is probably the finest of the homemade burgers I've made since coming to enyce. (Side note: I was on the subway today when I saw this dudebro wearing a shirt that said enyce. Before I moved to New York, I used to look at that logo and think, 'hey, that's a-nice shirt.' Only today did I realize that it was just a hip spelling of the initials of my current city. Now that we've established my relative coolness quotient, I return you to the regularly scheduled edition of Cheeseburger Haiku, already in progress.) ...and then I twisted it until the handle fell off. Not too much later, there was my grandmother riding by on a bicycle, giving me the finger.

Whoa! Now that was an amusing anecdote. I don't think the good folks at google blogger will ever let us air that one again.

Alright, let's get to busy. The burger: worcestershire infused patty with havarti cheese on a brioche roll. About 4/10 of a pound before griddling and cooked to (circa) medium. A light smattering of ketchup. As you can see this was a relatively no-frills meat sammich, which means that the meat had a very important role in the ballet of burger. Ne'er you mind about the fancy sounding cheese and bread, I was at the Trader Joe's and who knows what the heck is going on in there. Back to the meat (hey, that sounds catchy. When I run for re-election next year perhaps that'll be my running platform. I can see it now: 'Back to the Meat - Josh for Burgermeister.') I was saying that the meat had a job to do. I had a success with the meat. The meat was good. Usually I'm a flat-patty type gentleman, but since the Griddler has the duel cooking surface, I had to reassess my grill strategy. So I made the patty thicker and only left it on for a few minutes. It tasted a lot less like the inside of a microwave than previously, and the woostleheisen sauce added enyce touch.

This burger gives me great hope for the upcoming grilling season, even if my grilling will be done inside. To combat my inside grilling blues, I think next time I'll open up a window and look outside as my meat is getting 'r done.

To wash it all down, I had a Dunkelweizen from Trader Joe's, a wonderful style of beer that is just not getting as much love as it should. Why are there not more dunkels in my life?

Note: the pickles are a lie. I took them off and ate 'em on the side.

Books is Good, Mostly - Volume 3

A Game of Thrones - George R.R. Martin

This book was a maelstrom of awesome and ranks as one of my favorite reads in a long time. My interest in this book was slowly building to a head after seeing all of the rave reviews it (and the other books in GRRM’s epic saga known as A Song of Ice and Fire) was getting on various websites which I frequent. That little pebble snowballed when I heard it was being adapted for an HBO original series, and finally avalanched when I starting seeing some promotional ads for the show. Add all that together with a well timed and much appreciated gift from my long time cohort, pen pal and DM, and boom! I had no other option but to read this book right now.

I’ve always loved the sword and sorcery genre more in theory than I actually partook in it. My knowledge of fantasy goes only slightly beyond the extended editions of the LOTR films and the ⅚ of those books that I’ve actually read. Beyond that, I only have my four years of Dungeons-and-Dragonsing in my repertoire. Well, that and Conan the Barbarian. Looking back at my fantasy resume, it seems misguided of me for my first attempt at authoring a novel to be in this very genre. Uh, whoops.

Back to Game of Thrones, otherwise known as book one of A Song of Fire and Ice. This book has exactly what I want out of my fantasy gritty realism, intrigue and political scheming, sex, copious amounts of violence, wolves, winter and great characters. The greatest strength of this book is far and away the characters within its pages. From the too noble for his own good Eddard Stark, to the cunning Imp Tyrion Lannister and the boiling beneath the surface badass-ness of Jon Snow, every single point of view character is worth cheering for.

Movie Time 4.11

The Client - I remember as a youth reading some John Grisham novels. I don’t know why I read them, as I’ve never had an interest in law thrillers, but I did nonetheless, probably because he was immensely popular at one time and all of his books were being adapted into movies. As is the style of our times, I only read the books for the movies I had seen adaptations of. Because, I mean, who wants to imagine what characters look like when you can just go off of the Hollywood selections? As it turns out, every character in books I read nowadays looks like Don Cheadle, kind of like that creepy Malkovitch scene but with more boom-swagger-cool. Back on topic, all of that was just to say that I’ve never seen this movie, and now I have. It was okay.








The Departed - You’ve seen this movie, you know how good it is.

Music Notes 3.11

Horns

Well, winter fooled me again. A few sunny days and I go and throw out all my warm clothes. “It’ll never be cold again!” I exclaimed, drunk from the warmth--and beer. Short story shorter, the guy living in my alley is a lot warmer these cold nights. Why all this talk of weather in a music column? As I’ve mentioned earlier, my music selection relies heavily on the climate. Freezing equals black metal and hotballs means stoner rock / doom. Within that range there is a little more leeway in regards to my choices, with hard rock / thrash scaling towards the warmer weather and progressive / melodic death towards the colder temperatures. That said, the transitional seasons are kind of a hodgepodge of stylings. Before we look at my selections for the month, I’d like to tell you more about my music collection.

Cheeseburger Haiku - Fortago Burger Bar

That was rough. 

My goodness, has it really been over a month since my last Haiku? For shame, Josh. For shame. I am disappoint.

I don't know if you've seen those ads on TV lately, those PSAs warning about the dangers of BWS, but let me tell you firsthand: Burger Withdrawal Syndrome is no laughing matter. Sure, the ad may portray it as humorous in an attempt to illicit the kind of emotional response that will make you think twice before skipping burger time. But what they don't tell you about is what it does to your innards (which, if I'm not mistaken, is comprised of guts, black stuff, and about fifty Slim Jims). BWS carries with it the very real risk of lost weight (never mind those fliers you're throwing up on vacant buildings and lampposts all over town, it ain't coming back), extra energy (I mean, really, who wants to take the stairs up that half flight of stairs, when you can take the lift to the second floor and come down a half flight?) and a non-offensive odor (kiss those beefy toots good-bye). No matter which way you look at it, BWS is something to be avoided at all costs. Heed my words my burger brethren. Heed them well.

Movie Time - 3.11

Hey folks, I'm still experimenting with formats and such. I'm not sure if I want to update this column monthly or just whenever I get caught up on reviews. We'll just have to see how it pans out for me. As an added bonus for all you readers out there who subscribe to Netflix, clicking the pictures will bring you there for ease of updating your queue. Here's the latest batch of movies.





Gone Baby Gone - This movie was not what I expected at all. I thought this was the Beiber biopic what I got instead was an Affleck joint with a heap of Ed Harris and a dollop of Morgan Freeman. In this movie, an Affleck and his girlfriend get hired to augment the police investigation of a missing girl (the eponymous ‘Baby’), and after a series of twists and turns find that the case of the missing youth is a lot more complicated than once thought. The mystery elements play out well, and the Affleck, which happens to be Casey Affleck, is pretty convincing as a tough guy with a weenie physique. The final twist at the end really gets you thinking, which I thought was a pretty powerful note to end on.

Books is Good, Mostly - Volume 2

On Writing - Stephen King

What a splendid read! One of the things that keeps me coming back to King’s books is the down to earth, almost anecdotal way he narrates his stories. He doesn’t get too bogged down in themes and symbolism all that much, but rather just spins a good yarn. One thing that always grates on me about his writing is that the tale will invariably contain a main character who is a writer, or be set in Maine, or be about a writer living in Maine.

On Writing is no different.

I feel like this book is essential reading for any aspiring writers out there, but that’s not to say that it is only limited to budding wordsmiths. As usual, King tells it how it is. To paraphrase, “A bad writer will never be a mediocre writer and a good writer will never be a great writer, but with persistence a mediocre writer can become a good writer.” That right there is the best piece of advice I got from the book. To put it bluntly, some people suck and shouldn’t write while others have a natural talent. For the rest of us, it just takes some hard work. Good to hear from the master.

The book covered some pretty personal tales from King’s past as an alcoholic and a drug addict, even mentioning that he was totally coked out most of the time he was writing Tommyknockers (which might explain the sour taste that book left in my mouth). There’s some inspirational moments as he overcame first the addictions and then the infamous car accident that nearly left him dead in a ditch. In both cases, he claims that (along with the love of his family and such) writing saved him.

It’s easy to see why the guy turns out 800 page book after 800 page book year after year: he loves what he does. That’s pretty cool. This is definitely getting a reread.

Coming to New York? Read This

Hey folks, if anyone out there in blogsville is planning on paying me a visit in NYC, here's my mission for you. You will not be allowed into the Alan Dale unless the following conditions are met:

Before going to the airport, take Bart to Mission/ 16th Street. Head east down 16th until you reach Bryant. Turn left. Walk one block north until you reach 1590 Bryant. You will see a store called Sports Basement. Go in there.


Now, head to the camping aisle. Look for the portable food storage units, you may know them as coolers. Find a small snack collapsible lunch cooler with reflective thermal lining and an extra pocket for ice/ heat packs. Select one that is both affordable and fashionable, preferably something that goes with your air travel ensemble. Next, look for instant heat packs. You're going to want something that is not liquid based, for insurance purposes. If you can not find a variety that is not liquid or gel based, make sure you find one that is under 3.5 ounces by volume. Purchase at least two packs, unless they come in a two pack, then one will suffice. At the register be as discreet as possible, you don't want to tip anyone off as to what you're doing. Get cash back if you haven't any, you'll need it.


Once you've got the supplies, on to your next mission. Go back towards the Bart station stop, but go past it until you reach 3071 16th Street. Go in there. On the wall, you will see a menu, it will be in a language that is foreign to you. The language barrier shouldn't matter. Go to the counter and ask for Jose, he will take care of you. Tell him that you want the following: a super burrito (burr-eat-oh) on a flour tortilla (tor-tea-a) with carnitas (car-neat-ahz). He will say something to you, smile like you understand. Say 'black beans.' If he says anything else, just nod in agreement. Once the order is complete, exchange money for the package. It will be wrapped in foil. This is good, foil is your friend. Before leaving the establishment, put the package in the container you bought.

Get back on the Bart train and head for the airport. Take the appropriate actions in getting to your plane, but be mindful of the package. There are people there, at the airport, they will appear to be security agents and ask you to reveal the contents of your package. For goodness sake, don't let them confiscate the cargo. It is too precious!

After boarding the plane, you must remain vigilant, for at any time, the contents of your carry-on luggage can get cold. You must avoid this at all costs. When the foil lining is just a few degrees above the ambient, ignite the first heat pack and place it next to the package. This should keep it warm for the first leg of your trip. Opening the container at this point will release a delicious aroma into the cabin. It will likely tempt you into unsheathing the foil wrapping. DO NOT EAT MY BURRITO.

Stay mindful of the temperature of your cargo, never letting it drop too low. Use the other heat pack when necessary. Hopefully by then you will have disembarked the plane and be on the subway. This will be your most difficult test, for you see, though New York is hailed as the cultural epicenter of America, it is actually a barren wasteland populated by deprived individuals. Most of them have never eaten a decent burrito and will do anything to intercept the package. Two operatives have been lost on previous missions, but I trust that you will be able to drive back the masses.

Upon arriving at your destination, hand the package over and watch as I woof that bad boy down. After my burrito coma has subsided, I will gladly put on any suspenders you wish.

This is your mission, you have no choice but to accept it.

Music Notes 2.11

The cold weather must end! My new found love of black metal correlates exactly with the amount of snow on the ground. As it turns out, I can only listen to so much black metal so thank Satan that the sun is starting to show itself and the days are getting longer. Got plenty of rain this month, which I’m finding lends itself well to heavier progressive rock stylings.

From here on out, I’ll just highlight six albums that I found particularly rocking for the month with a bonus vinyl selection. I am by no means a music journalist (my range of describing music runs from rocking to not-rocking), so I’ll try my best to explore topics other than musicianship or songwriting abilities, like my history with the band or album, and the particular mood the music evokes. Without further hullabaloo, here are six for February:

Tool - 10,000 Days - Never quite grew on me like the rest of their catalogue, but it’s Tool, so it rocks more balls than most. It’s got some weird parts, and you can definitely hear the Meshuggah reference. The coolest part might how they recorded ‘Viginiti Tres’ to sync up with ’Wings for Marie’ parts 1 and 2 to make one mega song.

Warrel Dane - Praises to the War Machine - Like Nevermore, but mellower. Definitely a showcase for Warrel Dane’s lyrical and vocal prowess, which is a little more political than his Nevermore efforts. There’s a lot to like here, and it’s different enough from Nevermore to keep me reaching for it in equal measure with his other stuff. The main downside of this album: no songs about sentient robots.

Ahab - Call of the Wretched Sea - As it turns out, I enjoy music about the great American epic Moby Dick more than I like the book itself. Here we have some crushing doom metal lyrically inspired by the monomaniacal captain of the Pequod. I generally keep this type of music reserved for warmer climes, but as I neared the end of the book, I needed something to keep me going. For the last 60 or so pages of the book I read with this album on in the background on repeat. I must say that it really added to the atmosphere of the book. Doom is a great genre for background music, with its slow pace and sub guttural growls, and Call of the Wretched Sea has both of those things by the barrel full.

Blind Guardian - At the Edge of Time - This came out a about five months ago and it still feels new, the songs just haven’t settled in to my Blind Guardian database. I’m not so sure that’s a good thing. The album runs the gamut from epic to rollicking to ballad-y, and carries with it the unblemished sheen than has become the hallmark of BG production values over the past few albums. From A Night at the Opera to A Twist in the Myth, this album is very much the next Blind Guardian album. They have their sound and they are sharpening and refining it; this album doesn’t pull too many new tricks out of the bag. Though the album feels a little stagnant, I’m not sure that their lack of progression is the cause of it. Perhaps I’m just partial to their back catalogue and this one needs more time to saturate. Overall, I like the album and I want to like it more--up to the level of their other efforts. A few more listens are in order, and that shouldn’t be a problem because Blind Guardian are one of the few bands that I listen to year round and at any temperature.

Oddysey - Schematics - This four song EP offers some some instrumental progressive rock that is definitely worth a listen. The best part: it’s free. You can download the entire album at odysseyspokane.bandcamp.com. I really enjoy the style of music they play and am always looking for new bands to expand my musical knowledge, but I probably never would have checked this band out has this album not been free. Free! I think this is a wonderful way for up and coming bands to get exposure. I’m definitely going to keep my eye on this group and see where they go from here. I think more bands should do this to bring in more listeners. More listeners means more fans means more concerts and merchandise sold. Check this band out if you like solid instrumental rock. Did I mention it’s free?

Evergrey - The Glorious Collision - So I was scanning this list last week when it occurred to me that Evergrey had a new album coming out. Considering I am pretty much out of the loop these days, it wasn’t a big shock for me to just be discovering this. Evergrey is one of those bands that I’d never list among my favorites but I still reach for their stuff more often than most other stuff I have. The price was decent so I ordered it on Amazon. Though I’ve only listened to it a few times, I’m pretty sure I’m going to like this album as I am a sucker for Tom Englund’s vocals. We’ll see how this album stacks up against their back catalogue.

Vinyl selection of the month:

Judas Priest - Unleashed in the East - Yes! I freaking love this album. Having been a Priest fan for about seven years now it’s always been a secret shame of mine that I never had this album. So when I saw it on vinyl, I had to fork over the cash. I’m glad I did. This live album plays like a greatest hits of early Judas Priest, except more amped up on leather. Great album. Judas Priest! Yes!

Movie Time - 2.11

Hey folks, here's a round up of the movies I watched in February.

City of God - This movie reminded me a lot of my childhood growing up in the slums of San Lorenzo, aka the City of Ducks. The movie nicely weaves together the stories of several people coming of age in some pretty bleak conditions. This movie is not a feel good movie in the least, but the characters are so charismatic and alive that you sometimes forget what a craphole situation they’re in. Awesome movie but be warned, this is what I like to call one of them ‘reading movies.’

Timecrimes - Another one of them reading movies, this time from Spain. This one has an interesting time travel concept, where a dude encounters some bad stuff and is given a second chance to make things right by the use of milky time travel tech. I must say that while the concepts of this movie were good (time travel, spying of a woman undressing in the woods, etc.), the execution was iffy at best. I felt like the dude bro was just doing things because that was the way the movie was scripted, either that or he’s really stupid. Oh well, it was worth a shot. I feel like I’ll have a better chance with Terry Gilliam’s Time Bandits for some crimes in time. Check back soon; it’s in my queue.

The Game - This was one of my faves but over the past seven or eight years I’ve fallen out of touch with it. The movie is good--a total mindfrack. My biggest qualm with the movie nowadays is the ending: after the unexpected twist ending, Michael Douglas should be pissed off. A lot pissed off. But instead, he’s all like “Oh, whatev’s. Thanks for the B-day gift, Bro Sean Penn.”

Ratatouille - For all my love of Pixar, I had never previously seen this movie. For some reason or another I just never had the opportunity to do so, and the one time I did sit down to watch it I accidentally took an angry nap (you know, the kind of nap where you wake up sweating and really upset). After that, I was in no mood to continue. So a year and a half later, I finally got this on Blu-Ray and gave it a gander. Surprise, surprise, I enjoyed it. Leave it to the good folks at Pixar to make likeable characters of rats and the French. The movie didn’t knock my socks off, but even a middle of the pack Pixar movie is head and shoulders above most other animated crap out there. Did you hear they’re making a Shrek 5? I hope I’m joking.

F for Fake - A 1970’s documentary about some world class fakery, as presented by Orson Wells, who I have to say, is a truly wonderful narrator. Think James Earl Jones mixed with Shatner. The hoaxes presented herein are about a painter who got a bunch of his works into various art museums under the assumption that they were bona fide originals from famous artists. Another was about the Howard Hughes Biography hoax. The main thing I got from this movie is that the so-called experts are actually just “experts.” By using their expertise to define their expertise, it didn’t take much for the wool to be pulled over their eyes.

Exam - I love these kind of movies: eight people in a room given eighty minutes to figure out the answer to a question. Except they don’t know what the question is. The person to answer correctly gets the job (this is in the near future, at some super mega corporation). Similar to The Cube, but not as many elaborate death traps. It’s great to watch people go from cooperation to fisticuffs when put in seemingly impossible situations. I love to watch how humanity crumbles when all bets are off, like after I bust ass in the subway and riots break out. Ha!

Robocop - Balls awesome.

That's all for this month. Thanks y'all.