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Category Archives: People who have faces that look like Halloween masks
The fat lady sings, then gets liposuction.
Maybe it’s just me, but I feel like we’re on the verge of something in our culture. Or, at least, our pop culture. Things are ending, clearing themselves out, making way for new things. Maybe it has something to do with this being “The Year We Make Contact,” I don’t know, but I’m really starting to feel this faint fin de siècle vapor hanging overhead as the old shocks give up the ghost and fade away. Speaking of which…
Last night was the end of Nip/Tuck.
This amazed me, that it was finally ending, and the ending was an understated one. It coasted I think on the characters’ long journey to here and now, was light on the crazy trashy drama, but ultimately didn’t touch me nearly as much as the ending of The Shield, the FX network’s other big show (since I’ve only seen maybe an episode and a half of Damages) that I used to watch.
Why? Partly because Nip/Tuck probably felt like it ended a year or two ago.
The last real episode I saw before last night’s was the one where Christian and Liz come back from their honeymoon, Christian no longer has breast cancer, and cuts Liz loose. Sean is suddenly dating Rose McGowan out of nowhere. Julia was still fucking around, Kimber was still doing whatever, and Matt… Jesus. Fucking Matt had dropped out of medical school to become a mime and start robbing people. And I thought, “You know what? Fuck this.”
This show used to soar in it’s depths of ethereal trashiness and that lurid hard on of the glamorous nasty just felt forced and medicated. The high was probably the Carver storyline.
But I do have some love for the Sanaa Lathan season (just as I have massive love for Sanaa Lathan). Or any of the other seasons with the countless other over the top dirty sexy fun storylines that we’ve accepted.
And the Famke Janssen season as well.
…who returned last night for the swan song. And maybe it’s a make up thing or just how Janssen has aged, but this time I really felt her character in that she looked quite, uh, tranny-like (?) to me. But she was still fantastic in her role, waxing poetic about not being a monster, but being a victim of society that craves adoration. And then there’s the pathetic Matt whom can only offer adoration to someone and nothing else.
And perhaps it should have. I think trash can always be sustained, but you can’t just keep hooking it up to an IV of dayglo filth and call it a fountain of youth, like this show. You need substance. Or, in the case of the continuing narrative of Nip/Tuck, you desperately need substance and something tangible or more to say about the evils of our society that’s so very much obsessed with looks. And when you shine a light on all of our dark places, there needs to be something there to see.
And Nip/Tuck hasn’t had that for a while. And then… it didn’t.
It’s a show that’s changed so many times, putting itself through facelift after facelift, giving you a dazzling and rapid succession of new status quos to swallow harshly. And what it really needed was some mental surgery. Beauty fades, age gracefully, and know when it’s time to go.
But perhaps there was something in there, not just about the facades we worship, or the exploitation of youth (or a depiction of one of the most continuously fucked up family dynamics on TV ever), but something crueler and more interesting: a study of severely flawed masculinity.
Could you call the ongoing saga of Doctors Christian Troy and Sean McNamara anything else? All the women that have passed through their lives, that they’ve traded like briefly interesting toys and mirrors, it’s all come back to them and how devastatingly uncomfortable they were in their own skin.
Was Nip/Tuck the end result of a truly American journey that was started in Mad Men?
Whatever. This is half a post. I just have nothing to say. It’s like this show turned upon itself, much like Christian did to Sean, and said, “Tell me what you don’t like about yourself.” And the answer?
Everything.
“Is all art real art and is pop art art?
Like I said, in 2009 I gave up on criticizing the mainstream ideals or things like “celebrity culture” because, well, there’s a lot of it that just plain disgusts me, but an equal amount that fascinates me, as is life. With that, I’m going to also try to complain less about the weak notions of art and “pop,” etc. Well, I didn’t give up on criticizing it (because I’m not dead) but I’ve started to understand it a little more. And I’ve stopped fighting it. Fighting it damages me more than it. But things like American Idol that I don’t respect? I get them now. As much as I’m going to, at least. I may not join in, per se, but I understand.
New thoughts on the matter:
-Like what you like.
-Do what you do.
-Accept that your art is not for everyone.
-Conversely, don’t freak out if no one gives a shit for the things you “like.”
-Don’t be a cocksucker about things that others like, especially if others are intelligent.
-Something something fingerbang (because that’s my new favorite word)!
-You probably don’t know shit about shit. Teach when you can, but more importantly, be ready to shut up and learn.
-Make art when you can. Life is hard, it’s true, and it’s rough. It’s so rough. But it’s also temporary. It flies right by. But, before you go, put something on your walls, on your bookshelves, on your shrine of self or whatever, okay?
And that last one comes with a special caveat for writers. Partly because I think I’m going to talk a little, just a little, and in a very abstract way, about writers this week. But here’s some advice for writers: Write. Magic elves don’t bring you respect and money and credibility and beaucoup fingerbanging just because you declare yourself as a writer to a universe. Do a little living, make some decisions, see some weird shit, do some weird shit, and then do some fingerbanging. On the keyboard, that is.
Anyway, separate from writers and back to “pop art” in general… And what’s the most poppiest of the current pop shit out there as far as I can tell? Lady Gaga.
Right?
She looks like what I imagine slowly going insane feels like. And I’m not complaining. There’s just no point. She’s not necessarily my thing, but I find her to be an interesting bit of current oddity (even if my particular bit of gravamen is with the unnecessary pomp of it all)(though maybe it’s unnecessariness is what makes it so necessary?). The strange dada pop star. That place where music becomes experience turned into bad romance? A culture reflected back on itself through a disco ball? Also, this:
That’s Amanda Palmer, formerly of The Dresden Dolls, writing a song, a “blogsong,” if you will (in lieu of writing a blog post) about things like Lady GaGa and pop music entitled “Gaga, Palmer, Madonna.” I like this because, I like Amanda Palmer, it’s relevant to something I wanted to talk about, and Palmer has a thematically connective tissue to something like GaGa, to me, but is certainly at the other end of the popularity spectrum (unfortunately), right?
I discovered the song via Neil Gaiman’s blog (they’re dating), and they were apparently having a private discussion about things like pop art and Lady GaGa and she responded by making the song/video, which fascinates me. Every once in a while you need to immerse yourself in the medium to discuss the medium. Plus, Palmer raises some interesting questions not just about making popular art, but what it’s like to be a woman making popular art today.
Food for thought while you’re thinking about being artistic, yeah?
And now I shall leave you with one of my favorite pure pop songs:
(500)(+2) Days Of Blogging.
500 posts. Plus 2. That’s exciting. Shocking, too. Exciting and shocking. Reminds me of my last marriage.
Random notes:
1) Last night I had a dream I was watching a movie featuring Nic Cage as Benjamin Franklin and Jeff Goldblum as Albert Einstein and they were teaming up to fight vampires. It was called Science Dawn and I loved every moment of it.
When I woke up from said dream, I uttered one word: “Gangsta.”
2) Just caught up with the two latest episodes of Joss Whedon’s Dollhouse via Hulu. The already canceled show will come back in January to air it’s last three remaining episodes and I’m now at the point where I can actually call it a tragedy.
I’d say that 83% of the first season was not all that great. The last two aired episodes last year were decent and the DVD only finale, “Epitaph One” was amazing, but almost like a whole other show. The first two episodes of this season? Not that great. But then somewhere around their third episode this year, the writers must’ve realized that they were dying and they finally just started making really good TV.
The most recent episode, “The Attic” was brilliant and fun. Directed by comic book artist John Cassady (who did a gorgeous and amazing run on the X-Men with Whedon) and aping Neal Stephenson in places, it was like a whole other perfect show compared to where it was last year. I’m really looking forward to the last three episodes but there’s something heartbreaking in the idea that this show will continue to get better and better right up to the moment it dies.
3) There’s a Nick Tosches book called In The Hand Of Dante that I’ve always wanted to read and was reminded of it by glancing through the last issue of Entertainment Weekly, where it’s listed as one of “the essentials” of Johnny Depp. The fact that anyone needs to know what Johnny Depp’s essential anything is, well, it’s hilarious to me. But I’m thankful for the reminder and decided to pop online to get a copy for myself and possibly one for someone else since apparently Christmas is coming up. We still have a few weeks, right?
Anyway, they’re out of stock now on the book, and this is other suggested selections listed, the books that customers who bought that Nick Tosches book also bought:
I got a small chuckle out of that list, since those are the other “essentials” listed by Capt. Jack Sparrow in the EW article.
4) The other day this woman I work with was telling me a story about an elderly lady who was almost the victim of a home invasion. I don’t remember all the details, forgive me, but the gist of the story was that a guy kept knocking on her door, she lived out in the middle of nowhere, and the 911 operator told her to “do whatever you have to do” to protect herself, so she shot the guy with a shotgun.
Regardless of the details of whatever happened, the story terrified me. And it make ponder: If they remade Home Alone now – and that’s, what, probably just a year or two away anyway, right? – I feel like in our current crazy political climate, with all those arma ferre nutjobs out there, little Kevin McCalister would probably not use his brains or ingenuity to stop those stupid robbers but rather just go and get his parents’ gun out of the shoebox in the upstairs closet and would or kill himself and the two of them and maybe the family dog as well. And that’s just awesome.
5) Speaking of death and decay and literary aspirations and creative miasma: Counterforce actually had 500 posts. Well, 502 now. Shocking. How have the Elder Gods of the Internet not kneecapped us yet? Maybe it’s because we run so fast.
Again, sorry about disappearing on you for a few weeks there. We took a mini-vaca, I guess. There was a podcast recorded somewhere in there that probably sounded horrible, sound quality-wise, and wasn’t that thrilling, I’d imagine, content-wise. As I remember, it was a lot of talk about Dawson’s Creek, hate sex, sex with redheads, music, facebook, and… well, the rest is a blur. Rightfully so, I imagine.
Anyway, 500 posts. Here’s to 500 more! Or, at least, a few more. I feel like our posting schedule will be sporadic throughout the rest of December but there’s been some talk about a movie list from the past decade and several other interesting things. We shall see. Until then…
TOMORROW (I believe) on COUNTERFORCE: I’ll probably talk about my favorite albums from the past year, which I’m discovering was possibly even more forgetable than I realized.
And MONDAY or TUESDAY (I believe) on COUNTERFORCE: a book review.
Until then, just ask yourself this:
Memento Mori.
Donnn’tttt forgeetttt: Halloween is just a week away.
What is everyone’s plans for All Hallow’s Eve? How drunk are you going to get?
And what kind of costume will you be wearing when you get that drunk?
And since Counterforce tends to skew towards movies a little heavier than other things perhaps, what are you favorite scary movies?
The art of politics.
from 
from Three quotes about politics.
Like it says there, three quotes about politics, which we sorely miss talking about here at Counterforce, and then we’ll call it a night.
Thank you, Hunter S. Thompson.
Quote #1:
“I don’t like it. I think the cables have a lot to do with it. I’ll take you back to when I was president – we got tons of criticism, but didn’t seem day in and day out quite as personal as some of these talk show people.”
That’s former President George H.W. Bush, during in an interview in Texas about the lack of civility in politics. The interview was supposed to be about his support for volunteerism, but he had to address how we can’t be nice to each other anymore because of the reception Obama was getting in Texas. He goes on to say:
“And it’s not just the right. There are plenty of people on the left. If you want me to name a couple of names, I’ll be glad to do that for you.”
Of course a reporter would love for him to go on from there…
“Keith Olbermann and Rachel Maddow – I mean here are a couple of sick puppies.”
This quote fascinates me, especially as Olbermann pointed out in his response on the Maddow show, this is from the man who arguably started the era of dirty political attacks we’re in now by employing guys like Roger Ailes and Lee Atwater, and the kind of shit that would eventually beget guys like Karl Rove.
It’s funny that the elder Bush then added: “And the way they treat my son and treat anybody that’s opposed to their point of view is just horrible,” as his reasoning for specifically naming Maddow and Olbermann. Cause that’s what he’s really upset about, I’m sure. The way they treated his son, yeah, which I believe, but that they attack people who don’t share their beliefs. That’s something that Bush, sr. really wants to stand up against, I’m sure.
Before I go onto my next quote, I want to share this link with you about an interesting supposition about the wedding storyline in the Archie comics – seriously – and how it’s an allegory for the state of America right now. What happened was: a few issues ago Archie proposed to Veronica, shocking everyone, and then in the most recent issue, he ended up changing his mind and instead proposing to Betty. The semi-serious gist of the post is:
“This is clearly a reference to America’s voting for Barack Obama, then turning against the very things he stood for, such as greater public healthcare coverage.”
Good enough for me, man.
Quote #2:
“Why should we hear about body bags, and deaths, and how many, what day it’s gonna happen, and how many this or that do you suppose? Or, I mean, it’s, it’s not relevant. So why should I waste my beautiful mind on something like that?”
That’s former first lady Barbara Bush, wife of George H.W. Bush, is from March 17, 2003 when she was asked about the coming Iraq war. On it’s own the quote is just ridiculous and damning about this family of east coast intellectual elites who made a career out of posing as Texas good ol’ boys and “real Americans.” Taken within the context of the interview itself, the statement makes a little more sense, but only just a little more. But it was one of the first things that came to mind, along with “a thousand points of light,” when I hear the “sick puppies” comment.
The comment, of course, also reminds me of that Tony Kushner play, “Only We Who Guard The Mystery Should Be Unhappy” starring Laura Bush during the Iraq War. Ah, seems like it was just yesterday.
I don’t want to fully bash the Bush family, so it’s important to remember this, showing that they really aren’t all that bad.
And last, but not least…
Quote #3:
“Crime, boy, I don’t know.”
But in context, you’ll have to see it here:
“In the future, if you’re wondering, ‘crime, boy, I don’t know,’ is when I decided to kick your ass.”
That’s from the third season finale of The West Wing, entitled “Posse Comitatus,” and deals with President Bartlett, played by Martin Sheen, meeting his rival in the upcoming presidential election, Flordia Governor Robert Ritchie, a clear George W. Bush analogue played by James Brolin, backstage at a performance of “The War Of The Roses.”
My God, I miss this show, not because of it’s “liberalism,” or what most moderate liberals would call simply “common sense-ism,” but because it was just a solidly written, performed, produced show. Aaron Sorkin wasn’t always great with long term story planning (blame it on the cocaine?), but he had a playwright’s excellent sense of immediate personal drama in a single moment and doesn’t get nearly enough credit for his abilities with comedy, but that’s a story for another time.
This particular storyline dealt with President Bartlett being up for re-election, despite lying about having MS, and in a bid for a taste of the real world, he was going up against the Governor of Florida, essentially a take on GWB. The storyline was good enough, just hard to believe in that Bartlett was a great president and in this wonderful television world, you couldn’t believe he’d actually struggle in an election against such a moron. In real life, morons tend to have the advantage over the smart because of a successful attack on “intellectualism” that has been sweeping through this country during the past few decades, perhaps starting with the days of Lee Atwater and Roger Ailes?
Well, no, I wouldn’t give them all the credit for that, but Sorkin does point out that beyond Clinton fatigue, anti-intellectualism was a large part of the 2000 election contest between GWB and Al Gore. That, and outright thievery, but that’s a story that’s been told many times before.
The storyline between Bartlett/Ritchie essentially ended with their debate…
…in which Bartlett so mercilessly and effortlessly kicked his opponent’s ass that it seemed like science fiction. But it was so good. Not just for liberals, democrats, and “intellectuals,” but for people who liked good TV and were American porn enthusiasts. It’s Bartlett’s line in that debate – “I’m the President of the United States, not the President of the people who agree with me” – that has strongly affected my rather simplistic view on politics. Left, right, right, wrong, smart, dumb, agreeing with the President, disagreeing with the President, or somewhere drifting in between any of those so called absolutes, in this country, you’re still in America. Every part of America is “the real America,” it’s changing every single day, every single moment, and not necessarily drifting towards socialism just because you don’t understand it, don’t like, or are scared of the color of the skin that the man running the show has.
I’d love to throw out the question of why is it necessarily a bad thing to have a smart President who’s considered elite and recognized as being so? I’d love to, but that’s a losing debate amongst the hoi poilloi, I know. Oh, and to continue the tenuous thread between the here and now and the halcyon days of The West Wing, one of the many things I like that Barack Obama and Josiah Bartlett have in common: They’re both Nobel prize winners. 
The Counterforce Casting Couch: Independence Day 2
Let’s face it, Hollywood is never going to fund a big-budget original movie ever again.
Search your feelings, you know it to be true.
Marco and I have been talking for a while about doing a series of posts on movies that should be made. Now don’t get me wrong, the projects we’ll be proposing shouldn’t actually be made. In a better world, the budgets would go to real artists who do good work, but that’s not the world we live it, and at Counterforce, we believe in making the best out of a bad situation. Just like Liam Neeson.
no thank you
So, let’s get right down too it. You know, you know they’re going to make an ID4:2 some day, so we might as well make it enjoyably bad. Hell, just the idea of watching this movie instead of some Michael Bay cartoon-adapted crapfest gives me a boner. You can never ever go wrong blowing up as many international landmarks as possible.
Thus, The Counterforce Casting Couch: Independence Day 2
PREMISE:
This is gonna be a little rough, we can fill in the blanks during lighting shifts on the set. So, it’s like 20 years after the event of ID4. Will Smith is the President, obviously. The White House will have just finished being rebuilt and look exactly the same as before. Jeff Goldblum will basically be playing Al Gore. Sorta Green Living Apostle / Technocrat in Chief. Shia LeBeouf is Goldblum’s rebellious kid and Aaron Yoo is his buddy who films all their wacky adventures on his Flip Camera. There will be some drama because Shia doesn’t know his dad was a hero because Goldblum’s role was classified or something.
Ryan Kwanten from True Blood will fill in the Hick Character contingent with his little jailbait sister, Dakota Fanning. I threw a lot of brits into the cast so there can be other groups of characters in the UK and Australia, Iraq, etc. Famke Janssen will play somebody’s wife. Maybe Bill Pullman’s.
So, the Aliens come back, only this time, they come in peace and claim to be seeking asylum. Apparently these aliens are the not-evil faction of the bad guys. Will Smith will have all these mixed feelings because he hates aliens, but doesn’t want to be prejudiced to the nice ones. It will be like that scene in Star Trek 6 where Kirk talks about the klingons who killed his son, only this time it will be Will Smith saying it, and he’ll be talking to the First Dog.
Obviously, the bad aliens come back and destroy a shit-ton more monuments and landmarks. They’ll be led by Nic Cage, who is some kind of evil billionaire who helps the Aliens in exchange for world domination. Definitely gotta sack the Burj Dubai, the White House, Big Ben, the Golden Gate, the Vatican, etc. But this time, the good aliens have shared some of their technology, so the fight is slightly more fair, but earth still gets its ass kicked and the bad aliens occupy the planet. This would all take place on July 2nd.
yeah, that shit's gonna fall
The next day would be a lot of failed counter-offensives and characters hiding from Alien stormtroopers. Then Shia LeBeouf will decide to form a resistance and Aaron Yoo will do all the tech shit to get the word out on the internets. Ryan Kwanten will be there with Dakota, and he’ll turn out to be some kind of hillbilly ass-kicker. I see a scene with him, shirtless, feather tied to the back of his head, destroying enemy food supplies boston-tea-party style. Then we’ll cut to Said Taghmaoui in Iraq with a British accent and he’ll be all, “It’s the Americans, they want to organize a resistance, about bloody time!”
And then July 4th will be the big counter-attack. Aaron Yoo will die. Will Smith will fly an alien fighter ship with Bill Pullman as his wingman. They’ll fight their way to the mothership, land on it, then fight their way to Nic Cage’s lair on the bridge. Somehow, Jeff Goldblum will be there too. A big fistfight later, Will Smith wins, then escapes and Bill Pullman and Jeff Goldblum pilot the Mothership into the sun, sacrificing themselves. Shia hooks up with Dakota Fanning, and then after the credits roll, Samuel L. Jackson walks into a bar to talk to him about the Avengers initiative.
And… scene.
Fuck yeah!
You know you’d pay to see it.
Trash Talk.
Is it weird that whenever I end up in a fast food place, which I’m finding increasingly hard to do with an alarming frequency, I always see the sign on the trash can…
And think of this:
…which, of course, is from Michelangelo’s Creation Of Adam, the 1511 fresco that is one of the many images adorning the ceiling of the Sistine Chapel, and illustrates the Book of Genesis.
Or the Flying Spaghetti Monster, whatever your brand of religion is.
Either way: It’s the hand of God touching the trash of the world. Or, rather, throwing it away. The Garden of Eden wasn’t a paradise, it was a compose pile! It was a recylcing bin! The refuse of humanity!
from here.
I know, I know, I need to get out more. Maybe not spend as much time with just myself and my thoughts. Believe me, you’re not the first to mention it. This is where all my thoughts tend to go:
And, only semi-related, the Burger King character still freaks me out…
I mean, right? Look at this guy.
After cars and cash, the next thing fly honeys dig in a guy is his Henry VIII apparel. This I know be truth.
Look at that. First he’s rubbing sun tan lotion on your girlfriend at the beach while you’re at work and then next thing you know…
You’re waking up to a big bad mistake. And he’s got his own cologne. Ugh. But I digress…
…to celebrity trash, it is! No, no, just kidding.
I’m fascinated by the idea of trash as art, such as the sculpture of Tim Noble and Sue Webster immediately above here, or Yuken Teruya’s trash art tree seen a little higher up, the refuse of humanity turned back into something of use or importance. The recycling of that which we used and no longer want into something that we not only want, but cherish. Who knows, maybe Michelangelo would be proud. Especially if it was all done in the name and glory of God. Or, at least of the Flying Spaghetti Monster.
I don’t want to sound like the Wes Bentley character in American Beauty, but it almost makes you want to look at trash slightly differently, right?
Well… maybe not. But food for thought, I hope.
The Post-Modern Prometheus.
“The ancient teachers of this science… promised impossibilities and performed nothing. The modern masters promise very little; they know that metals cannot be transmuted and that the elixir of life is a chimera but these philosophers, whose hands seem only made to dabble in dirt, and their eyes to pore over the microscope or crucible, have indeed performed miracles. They penetrate into the recesses of nature and show how she works in her hiding-places. They ascend into the heavens; they have discovered how the blood circulates, and the nature of the air we breathe. They have acquired new and almost unlimited powers; they can command the thunders of heaven, mimic the earthquake, and even mock the invisible world with its own shadows.”
-from chapt. 3 of Frankenstein, by Mary Shelley.
And the pictures are, of course, from James Whale’s 1931 adaptation (which you could very loosely call it) of the story, and were found at this lovely blog of all things Frankenstein-ish. More soon…
