So, for those of you who don't remember this I'd like to welcome you to my Mom's basement. My name is Ryan and I'll be your guide to all the things I enjoy in my nerdy existence.
One of those things is reality television and there is no better summer reality show than America's Got Talent, otherwise known as AGT. I did promise that sometime during the season I would give my thoughts and I originally thought it would be once they announced the top 48 acts. Well, that didn't happen (stupid computer). So what you are going to are my thoughts on tonight's top 10 show with proper rankings about how the acts all did, along with some predictions.
1) Team iLuminate
I really did not want to like these guys much. They reminded me of last year's act Fighting Gravity and they still kind of do. The main difference is that they haven't had a big mistake and are a super group of trained dancers. Tonight they performed a cool act with geometric shapes. Also points for using music by former finalists Nuttin' But Stringz, who I thought should have won their season. Solid performance all around
2) Landau Eugene Murphy Jr.
If you've ever listened to me talk about acts who should win AGT I also hate it when singers win. This year is the first time I can honestly say I would be fine with a singer winning, especially Landau. He's a singer who belts old time Rat Pack songs with a certain class and style that is reminiscent of Frank Sinatra and Dean Martin, tackling "Ain't That A Kick In The Head" tonight. He might not be as good as the two of them but he's pretty darn good. I'd pay to see him sing and he's the only singer I would say that for.
3) Landon Swank
I'm surprised I have him this high, but Landon is a very solid magician. Sure, some of his tricks are incredibly obvious to figure out but even still I enjoy his magic. His act tonight was very suave, creating an illusion where he spit up a fish after eating a Goldfish cracker and then places the fish into a tank putting his hand through the glass. Sure it might be simple, but sometimes simple works. It brings the magic back.
4) Anna Graceman
This little 11 year old sure can sing!
Tuesday, September 6, 2011
Tuesday, May 3, 2011
Bye Bye Bye
Did you expect anything less from me guys? honestly, I love this song and could still probably throw down the moves to it if I wanted to, but that's for another day.
Yes, this is the final blog entry for CRW 408. I've even changed my subheading to show this. However this is not the end of my blog, nor my attempted domination of modern media. This is my attempt to shill and show you other spots you can find me.
First, Thoughts From My Mom's Basement will continue to be operational for the foreseeable future. I will aim to continue with one update a week, maybe even extending into the world of video blogging. If the world is my oyster, I'm going to try to eat that oyster in many different ways.
If you like this irrelevant nonsense and wished that it wasn't just my opinion but the opinion of my friends Australia bound Andrew Lambe and Pro-Wrestling Superstar Kevin Graham? Well you are in luck. We came up with a radio show this semester called The Three Mic Circus. We have back episodes recorded and podcasts ready to distribute to the unsuspecting public. You can see when those things are coming right here.
For something a little different, you can check out my other blog, The Musings of Bergman. This is a spot where I like to place some poetry and even some non-fiction stuff I work on. It's very scarcely updated with no real updating plan, but when it is you'll know that I've let my emotions out for a stroll. The link is right... here.
Alos, you can add me on FaceBook. I like having friends I know, and you guys seem cool. Your choice though with what to do. Same goes for my Twitter. Follow the links to my pages.
In all I'd like to thank those who have taken this journey with me, it was fun and I hope you've learned how to let you inner geek and freak flag fly. For without the oddities in life, we are all normal, and who wants that?
Much Love,
Ryan Bergman
Tuesday, April 26, 2011
Free Comic Book Day!!!
Yeah, see that, 3 exclamation points. That's how pumped I am for national free comic book day. It's May 7th this year always on the first Saturday in May and I can tell you that this will be the first one I'm going to.
My friend Kevin and I have scoped out 7 stores to hit up to just take as many free handouts as we can get, and it's not because we are cheap or college students, or even broke. Actually, that is part of the reason, but the real reason is that it's a day to nerd out.
I remember going to my first comic conventions, the now cancelled Heroes convention in Syracuse. It was a nifty place, tons of comics, video game tournaments, people cosplaying (for those not in the now, Cosplay is when you dress up like a favored character from a comic or Japanese anime series), it was an interesting crossroads to see all these people together in one place.
You see, comics have always been in my life. As I type this if I turn around I can see my big X-Men poster that I've had on my wall for almost 18 years now. I don't really have a religious path to follow b ut I do live my a simple credo from the pages of Spider-Man, "With Great Power, comes Great Responsibility." It's a hell of a motto to live life by!
Last year is when I got back into actually buying comics, and I was shocked to see how expensive they were. It surprises me even to this day with most comics from Marvel and DC going for around $3-4 dollars an issue people are able to keep up with the different issues and storylines going throughout the comic scene.
The reason I really like Free Comic Book Day is that if offers me a bit of hope, like a young me may find something in reading that makes him want to be an artist or a writer some day. I can tell you that I often thought about writing fictional tales as a young man, different story lines and ideas based in comic lore, and part of that is what made me want to write for living, but also fostered a love of reading within me.
With the national reading rate remaining stagnant for almost 20 years now, get your child or yourselves out to Free Comic Day, who knows, you might just find something you love, like reading.
My friend Kevin and I have scoped out 7 stores to hit up to just take as many free handouts as we can get, and it's not because we are cheap or college students, or even broke. Actually, that is part of the reason, but the real reason is that it's a day to nerd out.
I remember going to my first comic conventions, the now cancelled Heroes convention in Syracuse. It was a nifty place, tons of comics, video game tournaments, people cosplaying (for those not in the now, Cosplay is when you dress up like a favored character from a comic or Japanese anime series), it was an interesting crossroads to see all these people together in one place.
You see, comics have always been in my life. As I type this if I turn around I can see my big X-Men poster that I've had on my wall for almost 18 years now. I don't really have a religious path to follow b ut I do live my a simple credo from the pages of Spider-Man, "With Great Power, comes Great Responsibility." It's a hell of a motto to live life by!
Last year is when I got back into actually buying comics, and I was shocked to see how expensive they were. It surprises me even to this day with most comics from Marvel and DC going for around $3-4 dollars an issue people are able to keep up with the different issues and storylines going throughout the comic scene.
The reason I really like Free Comic Book Day is that if offers me a bit of hope, like a young me may find something in reading that makes him want to be an artist or a writer some day. I can tell you that I often thought about writing fictional tales as a young man, different story lines and ideas based in comic lore, and part of that is what made me want to write for living, but also fostered a love of reading within me.
With the national reading rate remaining stagnant for almost 20 years now, get your child or yourselves out to Free Comic Day, who knows, you might just find something you love, like reading.
Tuesday, April 19, 2011
The Cure To End My Life As A Single Man
That's right folks, you better read the title again, because if you are a single man I have found the secret that will make you so desirable to women, you'll be swimming in ladies by the end of this post. See, if you're like me you've often wondered how to land the lady you'll spend the rest of your life with. Sometimes it's as easy as talking to her, while to other's it's just being a ripped guy with chiseled good looks. But if you have the social skills around the ladies of a stucco wall and the body shape best described as spherical like myself, you have to go the extra mile.
For me, it begins with a move so simple in nature I know it will get rid of my lonely nights curled up in my bed with my beagle puppy down by my feet in the morning. Being a nice guy with a loving heart is great, but it you have the most devastating thing ever to a woman, you're cursed for life. Gentlemen, look in amazement as the key will be revealed, and ladies look away, because even seeing these things may make you go into a rage!
That's right THE JORT!!
Look at how even all-around good guy Tim Tebow becomes a hideous monster in these short jeans! Truly a horrifying look.
Ok, as I'm sure you've realized by now, I'm pro-jort, and hopefully with warmer temperatures I'll get to bust mine out again, but why are these garments so detested my the fairer sex, let's list possible reasons
1) They aren't jeans. That's true, they aren't, but the concept is the same. They are heavy duty shorts, and usually cheaper than khaki, so you know your man is waiting to spend that money on the most important thing in his life, you!
2) Women also hate jean shorts. This is less true than anything I can think of. Heard of Daisy Dukes, cut-off jean shorts worn my women to attract attention to the firmness and shape of their behind, therefore making them sexier to men. The Jort works the same way for men, we want to frame our calves in a nice way to show you that we have decent to good lower leg strength, therefore making it easier for use to run around, and pick heavy stuff up.
3) The redneck factor. Ladies, let me tell you a little something about myself. I live in the country with 2 tractors, a rabbit barn, a big yard, and a John Deere mower. If I didn't wear jean shorts I wouldn't be true to who I am as a person. I'm just a guy from the country, not a slick city dweller who gets a nice three piece suit. I'm much more at home with my jean shorts, a ball cap, and a t-shirt.
So, in closing, I say that if you want to find a date, it might be as easy as throwing the jorts out of your closet, but ladies, I ask you to let the man who wears jean shorts into your life, and maybe you might find what you've been looking for.
For me, it begins with a move so simple in nature I know it will get rid of my lonely nights curled up in my bed with my beagle puppy down by my feet in the morning. Being a nice guy with a loving heart is great, but it you have the most devastating thing ever to a woman, you're cursed for life. Gentlemen, look in amazement as the key will be revealed, and ladies look away, because even seeing these things may make you go into a rage!
That's right THE JORT!!
Look at how even all-around good guy Tim Tebow becomes a hideous monster in these short jeans! Truly a horrifying look.
Ok, as I'm sure you've realized by now, I'm pro-jort, and hopefully with warmer temperatures I'll get to bust mine out again, but why are these garments so detested my the fairer sex, let's list possible reasons
1) They aren't jeans. That's true, they aren't, but the concept is the same. They are heavy duty shorts, and usually cheaper than khaki, so you know your man is waiting to spend that money on the most important thing in his life, you!
2) Women also hate jean shorts. This is less true than anything I can think of. Heard of Daisy Dukes, cut-off jean shorts worn my women to attract attention to the firmness and shape of their behind, therefore making them sexier to men. The Jort works the same way for men, we want to frame our calves in a nice way to show you that we have decent to good lower leg strength, therefore making it easier for use to run around, and pick heavy stuff up.
3) The redneck factor. Ladies, let me tell you a little something about myself. I live in the country with 2 tractors, a rabbit barn, a big yard, and a John Deere mower. If I didn't wear jean shorts I wouldn't be true to who I am as a person. I'm just a guy from the country, not a slick city dweller who gets a nice three piece suit. I'm much more at home with my jean shorts, a ball cap, and a t-shirt.
So, in closing, I say that if you want to find a date, it might be as easy as throwing the jorts out of your closet, but ladies, I ask you to let the man who wears jean shorts into your life, and maybe you might find what you've been looking for.
Monday, April 11, 2011
Today Was An Interesting Day
So before I get started I'd like to welcome everyone to the relaunch of my blog, now going as Thoughts From My Mom's Basement. I thought about what Professor Steiner said, and after thinking about letting my geek flag fly and reading Emily's critique where she said that my pizza theme was lost, I decided to go with what I know, being so far outside the mainstream in my own little corner of geekdom! Remember folks, geek is the new cool, so this place is for the cool kids!
So, onto today. It was a very sad and yet interesting day. As you now know, I am a wrestling fan and today the world of wrestling lost a great bright young star in Larry Sweeney. Sweeney (real name Alex Whybrow) hung himself at a wrestling school sometime last night or early this morning. He battled depression and bipolar disorder for his entire life after having a documented breakdown in 2009. He was 29 years old, and I almost feel bad using the term old here.
Also today, Edge (real name Adam Copeland), a wrestler with the WWE for 15 years was forced into retirement at the age of 37. Copeland was suffering from symptoms of nueropraxia, a disorder in the nervous tissue causing loss of motor skills. Had Copeland continued to wrestle he would be risking paralysis or even death.
Of course, this summer marks the 4 year mark since the infamous Chris Benoit murder suicides, a case so horrifying that it caused pro wrestling to look itself in the mirrior and make some big changes in a big way. I feel as if today's news of the eaath of LArry Sweeney may be another one of those wake-up messages.
So, you may be asking what these two stories have to do with anything? Well, it's actually quite simple. The fact of the matter is that these entertainers go out nearly 300 days a year and put life and limb on the line and don't even have any kind of unionizing body to grant equal rights to all wrestlers. Now, at the highest levels, like the WWE, this is not a problem. The company is large enough to get the help and services their employees need to stay in good shape.
The people a lack of a union hurts is those 'weekend warriors' the wrestlers on the independent scene trying to make a living and possibly get discovered by the bigger companies. The money is just not there to allow them to get some of the help that they may need. More often it is the coverage they get through whatever their 'dayjob' is that gets them the health benefits that they use and even some will not cover some wrestlers due to the amount of pre-existing conditions in their life.
Therefore what I suggest is this, a move toward some kind of independent wrestlers union. I don't know the logistics of the move, I don't know the cost, but I know the benefits. Less lives like Larry Sweeney lost at a young age.
So, onto today. It was a very sad and yet interesting day. As you now know, I am a wrestling fan and today the world of wrestling lost a great bright young star in Larry Sweeney. Sweeney (real name Alex Whybrow) hung himself at a wrestling school sometime last night or early this morning. He battled depression and bipolar disorder for his entire life after having a documented breakdown in 2009. He was 29 years old, and I almost feel bad using the term old here.
Also today, Edge (real name Adam Copeland), a wrestler with the WWE for 15 years was forced into retirement at the age of 37. Copeland was suffering from symptoms of nueropraxia, a disorder in the nervous tissue causing loss of motor skills. Had Copeland continued to wrestle he would be risking paralysis or even death.
Of course, this summer marks the 4 year mark since the infamous Chris Benoit murder suicides, a case so horrifying that it caused pro wrestling to look itself in the mirrior and make some big changes in a big way. I feel as if today's news of the eaath of LArry Sweeney may be another one of those wake-up messages.
So, you may be asking what these two stories have to do with anything? Well, it's actually quite simple. The fact of the matter is that these entertainers go out nearly 300 days a year and put life and limb on the line and don't even have any kind of unionizing body to grant equal rights to all wrestlers. Now, at the highest levels, like the WWE, this is not a problem. The company is large enough to get the help and services their employees need to stay in good shape.
The people a lack of a union hurts is those 'weekend warriors' the wrestlers on the independent scene trying to make a living and possibly get discovered by the bigger companies. The money is just not there to allow them to get some of the help that they may need. More often it is the coverage they get through whatever their 'dayjob' is that gets them the health benefits that they use and even some will not cover some wrestlers due to the amount of pre-existing conditions in their life.
Therefore what I suggest is this, a move toward some kind of independent wrestlers union. I don't know the logistics of the move, I don't know the cost, but I know the benefits. Less lives like Larry Sweeney lost at a young age.
Tuesday, March 29, 2011
A Slice of Norway, and maybe some renovations?
So, for this blog I will be infringing on the territory of my good friend Rich, sorry buddy. I'm all for finding new music to enjoy and sometimes I need to go outside the United States. Luckily for all you music fans there is the Eurovision Song Contest, a competition that finds the best original song written by an undiscovered artist throughout Europe.
It was thanks to this competition that I was introduced to the music of one Alexander Rybak. He's Norweign, he plays the fiddle, and he's awesome. Most of his music is derived from the music of Norway, very folk driven beats and pieces. The best part is that most of his music is typical pop in English, so it is relatable to any audience. Here's his track "Europe's Skies", don't ask me why he's on that mountain, just go with it.
Now, in seriousness this is the reason I really wanted to write this blog. I know that most people had a very strong reaction to the previous post. So what I ask is this, would you guys like me to continue on in that vein, and if so, do you think that is could involved and have a solid theme. If you read this blog for enjoyment or because you are forced to, leave a comment below with your thoughts and we'll see what happens this weekend.
~Ryan
It was thanks to this competition that I was introduced to the music of one Alexander Rybak. He's Norweign, he plays the fiddle, and he's awesome. Most of his music is derived from the music of Norway, very folk driven beats and pieces. The best part is that most of his music is typical pop in English, so it is relatable to any audience. Here's his track "Europe's Skies", don't ask me why he's on that mountain, just go with it.
Now, in seriousness this is the reason I really wanted to write this blog. I know that most people had a very strong reaction to the previous post. So what I ask is this, would you guys like me to continue on in that vein, and if so, do you think that is could involved and have a solid theme. If you read this blog for enjoyment or because you are forced to, leave a comment below with your thoughts and we'll see what happens this weekend.
~Ryan
Wednesday, March 23, 2011
A Slice of Truth
So, while I was in France I spent some nights writing (spare me the boos I know you are throwing from behind your monitor). I was trying to come up with something decent that summed up my trip for you guys, and I think I got close, but also got really introspective into a side of me I don't like to bring out often. That being said, here's my little non-fiction essay about my time spent in France.
The Americans in Paris
As you read this, you should know I am writing on Thursday, 17/3/11. It is Saint Patrick's Day and I am sitting on my twin bed at the FIAP Jean Monnet in Paris France. I stare at a white sheet of paper and white stucco walls as I begin to write this piece with my favorite red pen. It is just past midnight, Thursday has just begun and for the majority of us, the night is young.
My roommate for the week Barry has stepped out with Diana and Amy to hit up the clubs and bars of Paris, while I have chosen to stay in as I always do. Tomorrow I will visit the cemetery where Oscar Wilde, Chopin, and Jim Morrison are buried before embarking on an adventure to a European football match.
The night is as young as an infant to most, this is my 4th day here, but I feel as if I have only just arrived. As the rest of the group descends on Paris, the night glows bright like Times Square on New Years, it is a night of celebration, a night to party. The flags have been raised and Paris has been put on notice, the Americans have arrived.
However, it is not just us who have arrived, world travelers from all corners of the globe has descended on Paris. Outside my window I hear the shouts of an Argentinean rugby team and outside my door I hear the conversation of some Canadians. If America is a melting pot, Paris is a petri dish of culture, all forms and different people thrown together in one large social experiment, all existing as different strains of the same DNA, the DNA of humanity.
I reflect on the week to that point. I have seen things so majestic and moving that some people may only see once in a lifetime. It is in this moment that the true paradox of Paris becomes clear. It is a city tied to the past with such reverence for the days of European strength, trying to exist in the world of an ever changing and complex future. Parisians and tourists then are prisoners of the present, caught in a place where moments last for eternity as time continually moves forward.
It is in this cruel constraint that we must exist, I have gone without any type of electronic technology for 4 days, and I am perfectly ok in saying that. Others through wait for the moment in which they can return stateside to cradle their effective cell phones again.
It is in small moments where time freezes where I hope to remember this vacation. I fear however that for most of us, the stories and moments they remember will be nights of wild parties and sweet wine. Instead of being left breathless by viewing the Eiffel Tower at night, they may remember the flashing lights of a nightclub. Instead of marveling at the Mona Lisa, they will marvel as they made it back to the hostel at 5:15 in the morning.
It is not that I hate people who drink, far from it. It is that after seeing how alcoholism makes people act and having it be in my family, I have never had a drink of alcohol. I know plenty of people who do, but the idea of a night I can't remember is much less pleasant to think about than a night I'll never forget. Plus, I'm fun enough without drinking anyway.
It is in this moment that I realize that I am not having as much fun on this trip as I should. That is not to say I'm having a terrible time, but the truth of the matter is that I have nothing in common at all with any of the people I am traveling with. Once this trip is over, I will probably never talk to any of them again, while they have formed some connection. I feel ostracized from the group, a lonely traveler through France.
The other question I needed to understand the answer to was why was I here. What had I come to Paris to find? Pictures fade over time, memories fade as we age, but it is the stories that we have to hold onto. For most it'll be the crazy nightlife, but what is it for me?
It won't be of the food, although Steak Tartar and Creme Brulee were surprising good. It won't be of the spiritual experiences, even though Notre Dame is enough to bring any man to their knees. It will not be of the history, enough though seeing all the tourist spots makes everything seems so small over time.
It is then that I think of a few hours earlier. I got on the metro on my way back to the hostel after a group dinner. On the train with me were two attractive American girls, one blond, one brunette with southern drawls. A few stops before I saw supposed to get off, the brunette stood to leave. I knew that I could keep going on, but I also knew that I could transfer back to this line. I needed to find her, for that moment where ever she was was where I wanted to be.
I dashed off the train and followed her through the largest metro station in Paris, getting short of breath and slightly irritated that she has always just out of reach. She got in front of a group of tourists on a moving walkway and with one more turn she was gone, another shadow in the City of Lights.
As I think back to that moment, I thought why did I do it? In asking this question I found not only the answer, but also the answer to what I came to Paris to find. I came to rekindle the magic of life. I had been swept up for a moment in a opportunity that never arose. I learned that magic is where fortune and luck meet at the intersection of life.
As I sit here, I here the Frenchmen outside my door say Merci to someone and I want to take this moment to say Merci Vocu to Paris. Thank you for letting this American be swept up in the magic of your city if only for a little while.
The Americans in Paris
As you read this, you should know I am writing on Thursday, 17/3/11. It is Saint Patrick's Day and I am sitting on my twin bed at the FIAP Jean Monnet in Paris France. I stare at a white sheet of paper and white stucco walls as I begin to write this piece with my favorite red pen. It is just past midnight, Thursday has just begun and for the majority of us, the night is young.
My roommate for the week Barry has stepped out with Diana and Amy to hit up the clubs and bars of Paris, while I have chosen to stay in as I always do. Tomorrow I will visit the cemetery where Oscar Wilde, Chopin, and Jim Morrison are buried before embarking on an adventure to a European football match.
The night is as young as an infant to most, this is my 4th day here, but I feel as if I have only just arrived. As the rest of the group descends on Paris, the night glows bright like Times Square on New Years, it is a night of celebration, a night to party. The flags have been raised and Paris has been put on notice, the Americans have arrived.
However, it is not just us who have arrived, world travelers from all corners of the globe has descended on Paris. Outside my window I hear the shouts of an Argentinean rugby team and outside my door I hear the conversation of some Canadians. If America is a melting pot, Paris is a petri dish of culture, all forms and different people thrown together in one large social experiment, all existing as different strains of the same DNA, the DNA of humanity.
I reflect on the week to that point. I have seen things so majestic and moving that some people may only see once in a lifetime. It is in this moment that the true paradox of Paris becomes clear. It is a city tied to the past with such reverence for the days of European strength, trying to exist in the world of an ever changing and complex future. Parisians and tourists then are prisoners of the present, caught in a place where moments last for eternity as time continually moves forward.
It is in this cruel constraint that we must exist, I have gone without any type of electronic technology for 4 days, and I am perfectly ok in saying that. Others through wait for the moment in which they can return stateside to cradle their effective cell phones again.
It is in small moments where time freezes where I hope to remember this vacation. I fear however that for most of us, the stories and moments they remember will be nights of wild parties and sweet wine. Instead of being left breathless by viewing the Eiffel Tower at night, they may remember the flashing lights of a nightclub. Instead of marveling at the Mona Lisa, they will marvel as they made it back to the hostel at 5:15 in the morning.
It is not that I hate people who drink, far from it. It is that after seeing how alcoholism makes people act and having it be in my family, I have never had a drink of alcohol. I know plenty of people who do, but the idea of a night I can't remember is much less pleasant to think about than a night I'll never forget. Plus, I'm fun enough without drinking anyway.
It is in this moment that I realize that I am not having as much fun on this trip as I should. That is not to say I'm having a terrible time, but the truth of the matter is that I have nothing in common at all with any of the people I am traveling with. Once this trip is over, I will probably never talk to any of them again, while they have formed some connection. I feel ostracized from the group, a lonely traveler through France.
The other question I needed to understand the answer to was why was I here. What had I come to Paris to find? Pictures fade over time, memories fade as we age, but it is the stories that we have to hold onto. For most it'll be the crazy nightlife, but what is it for me?
It won't be of the food, although Steak Tartar and Creme Brulee were surprising good. It won't be of the spiritual experiences, even though Notre Dame is enough to bring any man to their knees. It will not be of the history, enough though seeing all the tourist spots makes everything seems so small over time.
It is then that I think of a few hours earlier. I got on the metro on my way back to the hostel after a group dinner. On the train with me were two attractive American girls, one blond, one brunette with southern drawls. A few stops before I saw supposed to get off, the brunette stood to leave. I knew that I could keep going on, but I also knew that I could transfer back to this line. I needed to find her, for that moment where ever she was was where I wanted to be.
I dashed off the train and followed her through the largest metro station in Paris, getting short of breath and slightly irritated that she has always just out of reach. She got in front of a group of tourists on a moving walkway and with one more turn she was gone, another shadow in the City of Lights.
As I think back to that moment, I thought why did I do it? In asking this question I found not only the answer, but also the answer to what I came to Paris to find. I came to rekindle the magic of life. I had been swept up for a moment in a opportunity that never arose. I learned that magic is where fortune and luck meet at the intersection of life.
As I sit here, I here the Frenchmen outside my door say Merci to someone and I want to take this moment to say Merci Vocu to Paris. Thank you for letting this American be swept up in the magic of your city if only for a little while.
Tuesday, March 22, 2011
A Slice of Soul Flavored Awesome
Welcome back, I can tell you that I enjoyed France, and I will have a blog up about it tomorrow when I get some time to put the piece I hand wrote ( yeah, writing still exists) into word formatting.
But for now it's time to bring the awesome as only we do here, and I will putting on my flashy sequins suit and cutting a rug because we are going back to the 70's, kinda.
You see, one of the big film movements in the 70's was a genre called Blaxploitation. For the most part these films followed a set pattern, ghetto neighborhood and black hero/heroine got set to take on "The Man" who had someone brought an evil upon the community.
Some of these films like "Shaft", "Super Fly" and "Foxy Brown" are classics regarded for the viewing of any serious film fan, but aren't about the awesome here, we are all about the guilty pleasures at the Pizzeria, and luckily recent spoofs of the genre have given us our choices for a guilty pleasure.
Perhaps you are set with "Undercover Brother" with Eddie Griffin. It did a decent job of mocking all the hallmarks of the genre, but really is not as funny as the film I much prefer to it, the hilarious send-up known as "Black Dynamite"
"Dynamite" trapezes the spoof line expertly, balancing actual moments of awesome with tongue in cheek references to the genre it loving mocks. The child of Michael Jai White, the titular character is a cross between Bruce Lee and Shaft, a bad mofo with and afro, a black belt and a black militant who according to himself is "blacker than the ace of spades".
Although it clocks in at only 84 minutes, "Dynamite" was the most fun I had watching a movie l2 years ago, and that includes seeing Inglorious Basterds and all the other great films of 2009-2010. It should be required viewing for almost any film fan. I see you guys tomorrow with my France centered blog, warning, it's heavy stuff.
But for now it's time to bring the awesome as only we do here, and I will putting on my flashy sequins suit and cutting a rug because we are going back to the 70's, kinda.
You see, one of the big film movements in the 70's was a genre called Blaxploitation. For the most part these films followed a set pattern, ghetto neighborhood and black hero/heroine got set to take on "The Man" who had someone brought an evil upon the community.
Some of these films like "Shaft", "Super Fly" and "Foxy Brown" are classics regarded for the viewing of any serious film fan, but aren't about the awesome here, we are all about the guilty pleasures at the Pizzeria, and luckily recent spoofs of the genre have given us our choices for a guilty pleasure.
Perhaps you are set with "Undercover Brother" with Eddie Griffin. It did a decent job of mocking all the hallmarks of the genre, but really is not as funny as the film I much prefer to it, the hilarious send-up known as "Black Dynamite"
"Dynamite" trapezes the spoof line expertly, balancing actual moments of awesome with tongue in cheek references to the genre it loving mocks. The child of Michael Jai White, the titular character is a cross between Bruce Lee and Shaft, a bad mofo with and afro, a black belt and a black militant who according to himself is "blacker than the ace of spades".
Although it clocks in at only 84 minutes, "Dynamite" was the most fun I had watching a movie l2 years ago, and that includes seeing Inglorious Basterds and all the other great films of 2009-2010. It should be required viewing for almost any film fan. I see you guys tomorrow with my France centered blog, warning, it's heavy stuff.
Tuesday, March 8, 2011
The Pizzeria Comes Back With A Slice of Tucked Sausage
So, we are back here at the Pizzeria after the week that was a week of Charlie Sheen and him winning at everything, but I know you don't want to hear about him anymore, since we have reached saturation with the poor man. So instead I'm going to talk about one of the great guilty pleasures on TV right now, RuPaul's Drag Race.
Before we get going with this, I would like to state this out front. I'm fine with people living their life's however they want. All jesting in this blog is to expose the cheesiness of the show, not to mock the drag environment or the LGBT community. Just wanted to get this out of the way to make sure RuPaul doesn't read this and shuts me down
Now, for those of you who don't know and if that's you I'm sorry for singling you out, RuPaul is one of, if not the greatest Drag Queen of all-time. Her hit song "Supermodel", which you can check out at the link was a top 50 hit during the grunge era of American Music. But we aren't here to talk about her past, we are here to talk about her present and future and that is her show "Drag Race"
Now, if you have ever seen a show like America's Next Top Model or Project Runway you kinda will find the show familiar. Most episodes open with the contestant receiving "Shemail" (can't buy subtlety like that anymore) that point them in the direction of the challenge they will have for the week. Then the lady of the hour steps in as a man, and aids our would be queens on their way to the challenge.
One challenge always good to draw a good laugh or two is the 'reading' challenge introduced in Season 2. Reading or Throwing Shade is the drag queen equivalent of a roast joke, or so I believe. Here's the footage from last season's reading.
Once a challenge is completed, the prospective drag superstars meet on the runway as Ru makes her decision on which queens are safe and the two queens that are now in danger of elimination. They will have but one chance to stay in the competition, and it is to Lip Sync for their Life!
So take that Top Model, you have pretty ladies just standing around and they get to win. Kudos Project Runway, you had someone make a skirt. The contestants on RuPaul's show not only have created their own looks, made them, but now they even have to lip sync for their life!
Oh and it is a moment of the highest drama. The tension is so think you can cut it with a spork. Below is one of the great moments of television, in my opinion, of the last 3 years. At the end of it you may laugh, you may cry, you make shake your head in amazement and wonder why I did this, but there is also something else you will do, you will think that when nothing is left, the human spirit will find a way to carry on above all other things. Ladies, Gentlemen, LadyBoys, and GirlyMen, I present to you, the triumph of Shannel's victorious Lip Sync.
And with then, the Pizzeria is closing it's doors for this week.I hope you all enjoy your Spring Break, as I know I will as I am off to France with a class. Perhaps the next slice you get might be something a little international for you. So until we see each other again I leave you with this RuPaul-ism.
"If you don't love yourself, how in the hell you gonna love somebody else?"
Later!
Tuesday, March 1, 2011
The Pizzeria Gets Serious for a second
First, sorry for not coming through on my promise for a multipost week last week. That one is on me, and hopefully I can get you guys back on my side with a serious blog about the Charlie Sheen situation.
You see, my friend Andrew and I were having a discussion about one Mr. Sheen and we got to talking about his current predicament when I said that I felt sorry for the man. Andrew scoffed and told me that I had nothing to feel sorry about, that he had done it all to himself.
So why did I, a voyeur into the world of celebrity, feel sorry for Sheen? Is it based in the fact that many of us believe that celebrities are the most perfect representation of the self, reflected the what have been of the individual's full potential? Is it the fact that human beings always want to see someone fall, with the hope that they will pull through on the other end? Is it a natural thing that when we see someone in trouble we want to help them?
I'm not sure what I feel sorry for Mr. Sheen, but I do. You don't have to though, to each person their own.
But here's a post I found interesting from "Sprouting Daisies" about celebrity in this country and I think it works well as a companion piece. Check it out right here
Make sure you stop by later this week, maybe this weekend as I get back on the humor trail of things!
You see, my friend Andrew and I were having a discussion about one Mr. Sheen and we got to talking about his current predicament when I said that I felt sorry for the man. Andrew scoffed and told me that I had nothing to feel sorry about, that he had done it all to himself.
So why did I, a voyeur into the world of celebrity, feel sorry for Sheen? Is it based in the fact that many of us believe that celebrities are the most perfect representation of the self, reflected the what have been of the individual's full potential? Is it the fact that human beings always want to see someone fall, with the hope that they will pull through on the other end? Is it a natural thing that when we see someone in trouble we want to help them?
I'm not sure what I feel sorry for Mr. Sheen, but I do. You don't have to though, to each person their own.
But here's a post I found interesting from "Sprouting Daisies" about celebrity in this country and I think it works well as a companion piece. Check it out right here
Make sure you stop by later this week, maybe this weekend as I get back on the humor trail of things!
Tuesday, February 22, 2011
Oscar week kicks off with some Onions
So, this week I'm looking to be a little ambitious. That's right fans, I will be posting more than one blog this week! In honor of Oscar week, all of these blogs will deal with the film in the last 10 years that I feel best fit our flavors here and we start with tears and sad things, that's right we're dealing with onions.
And with that said, let me talk about my history at crying with movies. I cried at Jack Frost, I cried at The Santa Clause, basically I cry a lot at movies, regardless of happy or sad endings. But this blog isn't really measured by my tears, it's measured by the tears of my dad, who barely ever cries, except whenever we bring up this movie he talks about how sad it is.
And with that said, let me talk about my history at crying with movies. I cried at Jack Frost, I cried at The Santa Clause, basically I cry a lot at movies, regardless of happy or sad endings. But this blog isn't really measured by my tears, it's measured by the tears of my dad, who barely ever cries, except whenever we bring up this movie he talks about how sad it is.
That's right, the movie that will make my dad cry is 2005's Brokeback Mountain. The reasons why are numerous, but it basically comes down to the fact that this is a typical love story, told from an atypical viewpoint. That's a point that I say needs to be remembered here. Many people look down on this film because it deals with homosexuality and a love scene in a tent, but at it's core it's just a different way to tell the same story.
The thing though that really gets my dad is Gustavo Santaolalla's score. The ending scene of that movie is heartbreaking enough (No Spoilers though, see it yourself), but when you add the beautifully haunting tune "The Wings" into the scene it becomes a weep fest of epic proportions.
Later this week, I be looking at a film that will really make you question ever doing drugs from the brilliant mind behind "Black Swan " and a look at the worse best movie ever made. See you guys later this week right here in The Pop Culture Pizzeria
Tuesday, February 15, 2011
A Slice of Extra Cheese... with Mandy?
AH, STOP POINTING AT ME!! Seriously though, it seems only fair that with the recently passed Valentine's Day that we celebrate one of the best love song writers ever; the man, the myth, THE MANILOW!
That's right, the first super cheesy thing to be talked about is the great American songwriter Mr. Barry Manilow. If there is a greater definition of a guilty pleasure artist it would be Manilow. Hell, I'm a fan of the guy and I know that there are a ton of folks who are. We at the Pizzeria aren't about knocking something because it might be silly, we are here to celebrate the cheesiness of the things we profile here.
The one thing Manilow is known for are his moving ballads, sure we all have heard "Mandy", "I Write The Songs" and even "Copacabana" but the think that makes the cheese factor of Manilow so appealing is that you can go to any bar and see a poor soul belting out a Manilow hit for karaoke, and I've even done it too.
I'm sure what makes him so cheesy, maybe it's the lightly colored hair, maybe it's the total sappiness of his lyrics, maybe it that he makes us feel something greater than us, put it's probably because he brings the cheese...
Check out some Manilow here http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=KN1nynLMRl8
Tuesday, February 8, 2011
Open For Business
Hello, and welcome to the opening of the Pop Culture Pizzeria, my name is Ryan and I'll be your chef for all the latest in pop culture.
As we are now open for business our toppings are limited, but here is what you can expect for the time being.
We offer slices with Extra Cheese; a look inside TV, Films, Books, and Music that are so good they are bad, a guilty pleasure if you will.
We also offer slices with Onions; things that will make you cry in TV, Films, and even Music
And right now our best sellers are our slices with Mushrooms; a look at celebrities with drug problems, aka I add to the ridicule of Charlie Sheen
We are always looking for new topping as well, so if you have ideas drop them in the comments below.
We appriciate your business and we hope you find our slices, filling, funny and delicious.
~RB
As we are now open for business our toppings are limited, but here is what you can expect for the time being.
We offer slices with Extra Cheese; a look inside TV, Films, Books, and Music that are so good they are bad, a guilty pleasure if you will.
We also offer slices with Onions; things that will make you cry in TV, Films, and even Music
And right now our best sellers are our slices with Mushrooms; a look at celebrities with drug problems, aka I add to the ridicule of Charlie Sheen
We are always looking for new topping as well, so if you have ideas drop them in the comments below.
We appriciate your business and we hope you find our slices, filling, funny and delicious.
~RB
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)