The end of the Game..of Thrones.

Ramblings Post #368
My previous post got so many things wrong it wasn't even funny. A whole bunch folks I had written off not only survived, but came out the other shining. Wow. But now it's over and all that's left is the finger pointing. Sophie Turner who played Sansa feels that people dissatisfied with the ending are being disrespectful to the people - the artists, camera people, stunt folk, etc., - for all the effort they put into trying to make it the best show. But I think of it like going to a restaurant: I don't care how much effort the chef, the wait staff, the decorator put into all of it, if you serve me crap then it's bad restaurant. That's not disrespect, that's just real.

This whole thing is just loaded with Spoilers, so watch the episode first....

Great shot. I mean, the cinematographer and effects dudes worked this one. 

It's interesting how many folks found the image of Daenerys framed by wings of her dragon Drogon as she strode into speak to her victorious troops so iconic completely missed the fact that the scenes that followed invoked a rally in Munich in 1942. I mean, the shot wasn't particularly subtle either, nor was her speech about keeping the victory train rolling. As much as storytelling has created the idea in us that the hero is following their destiny, the idea that the villains motivation is also their belief in destiny shouldn't be lost. But then truth be told, the only satisfying ending for many viewers was for Daenerys to be crowned Queen, for her to then be completely supportive and understanding of the North's concerns and have the formidable Sansa also be crowned Queen of the North, Arya to do something majestic and all the male characters to just admit the women were better rulers than them and be accepting and ultra-supportive of their new futures as well. 

I'm starting to realize most of the commentary I have read on Game of Thrones has a particular viewpoint.

 We waited almost two years for this ending, which at best lackluster. It was not as horrible as How I Met Your Mother or Seinfeld, but it was only satisfying in the way that a jelly sandwich is when you were expecting well crafted pizza or a perfectly cook steak; you're not hungry anymore, which is was the point, but not really. To me, the whole season felt like the producers just started checking off boxes to get the ending they had been assigned. HBO offered them a full season, and probably would have given them two more just to keep it going a little farther. But they said nope, we can get it all in. They were wrong.

And the last episode has so many holes though it's hard to square up. So Jon kills Daenerys, and Gray Worm doesn't just kill him? They were cutting necks in the streets just minutes ago, now there is a call for justice. And after Daenerys goes down, her followers didn't immediately go crazy? After all, they were just cutting necks in the streets minutes ago. Wait, seeing as how they literally arrested and executed Varsys in five minutes for betrayal, why wasn't Tyrion ashed up immediately? What happened to Arya's prophecy about the eyes? Was that the whole Prince that was Promised thing? Was the whole point of Jon's heritage just to unhinge Daenerys? They didn't do a damn thing else with it. Why was everyone cool with Sansa saying the North would go it alone? I mean, damn, Yara was right there already mad and spitting fire! And finally, hold everything else - since nobody saw Jon hilt up the tyrant to be, how did they know? Did noble ass Jon confess? It should have been: Daenerys? Oh, she just left on Drogon. She's the Queen, she doesn't answer to me, I don't know where they went. Anyway, I'm headed back to Winterfell, toodles ...

She looks like she'll be a warm, benevolent ruler, doesn't she? Shot via HBO

I may have to sign the petition to request HBO redo the whole last season. And this time make it 15 episodes, so we can see how this all is really supposed to play out.

Apparently, according to this and so many other great series, endings are hard. Very hard. It has been clearly evident to the readers of the novels that Daenerys was going to go mad at some point. She not only bought the whole destiny to rule thing, she'd got the matching loveseat and ottoman. And to be honest, while she is good at the conquer part - what with her dragon cheat code - she's never demonstrated an aptitude for the actual ruling part. She'd "liberated" Slaver's Bay and Meereen only to muck them up and abandon them for more conquest, something she was about to continue in Westeros. She'd just destroyed the capital and had no real plans to rebuild, or feed, or even manage her new subjects. Just more conquest. But her fanbase however really loved her story arc and all it's triumphs, weeee!

For all the moaning about how uninteresting Jon Snow was as a hero, apparently most viewers don't realize he was (is) the author's avatar. But I never expected him to get the throne but he was a just dude who valued life in an age where killing was Tuesday afternoon. I had a theory that Arya would house Daenerys, then Jon would have to defend her and when Drogon goes to ash him it in front of everyone still living turns out he's fireproof as well, confirming his heritage for whatever. Then he'd reject the throne and head back up north, where he'd become a lumberjack and...no, wait, wrong story. Stop at the head back up north part.

I personally found the ending ho-um. Neat, maybe a little too much for something that was so sprawling and gory. You just kind of expecting one last subversion, one last surprise, but I think the producers were already on to the next project in the mind. Or at least it felt that way. When they say that the book was better than the movie (or visual interpretation) this is what they're talking about. I think a lot of folks are going to read the books - should they ever get finished - just so they can sleep at night.

But here we are. It's over. done.  

So who really won the Game of Thrones? Did Bran have it rigged from the start? No, the winner clearly was Bronn. Because while Brienne got knighted, Grey Worm lived to the end, Samwell got to have a kid and Sansa got a kingdom all her own, good ole' Bronn went from busted ass Sell-Sword to owning the fabulous estates at HighGarden and a seat on the Small Council as Master of Coin, without having to fight the dead at the Battle of Winterfell or face Drogon at the Sack of Kings Landing. Pretty damn sweet if you ask me.

Barkeep. Some Dornish wine. What? Seriously, no one has cashed in on that yet? Wow. Okay, then whiskey and some water. Make it ice from the Wall. Seriously, no one? Slackers.

This is all you got?

Rambling Post #357
Two gaming posts in a row? Wow, really big into gaming lately. Nothing about the upcoming story project, or goings on at the Ranch, or politics, or something that caught your eye or just about life in general. I could talk about lottery pools or go on about the sudden chill in the air that the seasons have brought us or general opinion stuff. Remember when I was mad at Burger King for putting fries on the burger? I could do that. Maybe family events? Changes in dietary habits? Books you've read then? No, none of that. Just the gaming then? Damn. I need to get out more. After I finish this game. And it gets warmer.

Before I saddle up and take on the Quentin Tarantino -esque masterpiece of Red Dead Redemption 2 (started my download on Wednesday night, thank you very much, only took took 30 hours) I want to take a moment to examine the title I'll be putting on hold for a while. A very long while. My original plan after finishing the sorely disappointing Just Cause 3 earlier this year was to dust off my older Playstation and revisit the original Red Dead Redemption. But my "To Be Played" list is so long - damn you flash sales - that I started a new title instead.

I think Rockstar has spoiled me.

The title that  I started was Mafia 3, the story of a black Vietnam vet taking on the mob in a fictional version of 1960s New Orleans. The game specifically indicated in the setup that to the producers felt it imperative to the gameplay that the player experience the actual racism that the main protagonist would have experienced. But this is a first person shooter. So the hero is a black guy...shooting racists in the old south. This would be the part where I give a sinister smile and say..."Go on." But that's it. And it's executed so poorly that had I won the billion dollar lottery I would have bought the title, hired new developers and redid the whole thing. As I said, Rockstar it is not.

Rockstar set the bar for open world games and nobody seems to have even gotten close since Saints Row 2 (another title I would have bought and done over, but just for the better visuals). Now let me say this, the location cinematics for Mafia 3 are amazing. Driving through the downtown area at night or traipsing through the swamp right at dusk are just visually stunning. The layout of the city, with it's divisions has a good feel for it as well. Right about there however, is where the game goes left.

It all looks so nice. But life is more than looks. 

Let's start with driving. I'll admit it, I'm used to wheeling and dealing about under sunny Los Santos skies going where I want how I want, i.e., driving on curbs, breezing through lights, clipping pedestrians, etc. Police shmolice, pfft.  As you move through the city in Mafia 3 however, the game makes a point of letting you know the cops are watching. So a drive through the city feels different. Plus the brakes are too harsh, people lean on the horn to quick and it all feels stiff. Even when I had the cops on my tail racing through the bayou it didn't feel true.

Then there is the actual gameplay. Most shooter games let the player decide how to approach things. Are you sniper? Do you lie in wait? Ambush? Go in guns blazing? Well, not so much here. Despite implying that the game allows some choice, based upon the tools you have and the way the weapons are set up it's basically a stealth game. That you only get two guns at a time is okay, I even enjoyed the tactical feel of making weapons decisions in Far Cry. But you're limited to less than 40 bullets for both the pistol and the other gun, the health bar is wonky and the bulletproof vest may as well be worthless. I mostly find myself working myself through the maze of the building, dock, warehouse, or where ever it is, lying in wait in a dark area until the enemy NPCs split up and then whistling to lure one of them closer where I do silent takedowns. So I'm maybe shooter isn't the best term.

What's severely lacking here however, is what makes the difference between a top tier title and everything else: There is simply nothing else to do in this gorgeous setting. A top tier open world game, like say Witcher 3, is practically overflowing with races, side characters needed things, etc. They have none of that here. They have the standard collectible search, but it's hardly a search since there is a simple way to display everything on the map which reduces the hunt and find to run around and grab. And although there is money, er, kickback and other cash, there is nothing really to spend it on. Your outfits are all set at the beginning so no shopping, you don't have to eat, one of you lieutenants has a car service to brings rides. Other than on your very limited arsenal, the money is barely a way to keep score. And with no side gigs it means to me that most of the map is just wasted.

Just some ideas. Since the ambiance radio updates go on about civil rights activities, why doesn't this character have a mission or fifteen dealing with that? And the main character gets a CIA buddy to help him out, so why are those side missions in the DLC? This could have been a robin hood -esque story with moral choices. There should have been a shopping system where on the poor side of town he can shop but as the neighborhoods get more racially sensitive, he's not allowed to shop unless the clerk is black or he has to buy the store? He should have had a hideout, or series of hideouts that he could upgrade. There is so much they could have done with this...and they didn't. Maybe it's all in the DLC?

Sigh. 

Barkeep. Two fingers of rye. Enough of this, I got to mount up and ride!

Bar Chatter

Bar chatter #29
Sometimes it ain't enough to equal a whole post, but still needs to be said.... it's bar chatter. 

I don't have a lot of time to put together blog posts these days. Very busy. This is about to be quotes and stuff like this for a minute. And stuff I wrote before but never put up. Sigh, priorities have to be in order.

But in the fifteen minutes I took to make sure that America was still a country - politics being what it is these days - and to make sure none of my friends had won the lottery - hey, you know we go back, right? - I saw this thing where you open your music player, ipod, iPhone, G4 or whatever and hit shuffle, then list the first 20 songs that pop up.

It's supposed to tell you something about the person. That they're deep, or insightful or listen to way more rap than you realized existed, or something, I'm not sure what though. But I needed a post and this was simple. So I opened my player, set it shuffle, started the first song then hit next...

Like Water for the Desert (Rain Montuno) - Ottmar Liebert
Day Dreaming - Anthony Hamilton
Leap Frog (Take 7) - Charlie Parker
Uhh Ahh - Boyz II Men
I Forgot To Be Your Lover - Jaheim
Tea for Two - Youmans (Composer)
Caipira - Ottmar Liebert
These Eyes - India Arie
Have You Seen Her - The Chi-Lites
Thug is a Drug - Mos Def
No Ordinary Love -  Sade
Esperanza - Body & Soul
Atomic Dog - George Clinton
The Fifth Symphony - Beethoven
Ms. New Booty - Bubba Sparxx
King of Rock - Run DMC
Grazing in the Grass - Boney James & Rick Braun
Cre-a-tine - Cool Breeze
Morris Brown - Outkast
Love the One You're With - Luther Vandross

So, am I am crazy? Really cool? Pretentious? Or do I own a lot more jazz and old soul than even I realized.

Barkeep, a nice Cabernet if you've got one. And the appetizer menu. Thanks.

Is This What You Were Going For? AKA: Watching Syfy's Helix

Ramblings Post #256
When I was younger they used to have these things called soap operas that came on in the afternoon for your homemaker's entertainment. Maybe they still do, I dunno, but on these soap operas, it was a serialized story where the most ridiculous things happened and we all just went along with it. People would get married eight or nine times, kidnapped six or seven and come back from the dead if the actor signed a new contract. Now that I think about it, soap operas do still exist. They just come on at night now.

I watched an couple of episodes of Helix, this horror show pretending to be science fiction and had to stop watching. I thought I'd be able to work with this because unlike so many shows this one promises to have all it's major questions answered by the end of season one, but I just could not do it. It wasn't the silliness of the science - fifteen nanometers? Really? With just a plain old microscope? - or the zombies by a different name, or any of the other ridiculous setups...it's fiction, I get it. But how the show set up the premise and the rules and then proceeded to completely ignore them ten minutes later is just too much. 

Let's see, the story starts with a crack team of CDC scientists who fly into a top secret facility situated above the 83rd parallel, where apparently no law applies because it's really really cold. There, a company called Arctic Biosystems has been working on, something, only now they have a problem, because a virus has developed.

Our Hero, Dr. Farragut - Photo via Syfy

First problem - At some point the youngest of the agents proclaims to some people in quarantine that
they have "full jurisdiction." Only they don't. According to the show nobody has jurisdiction. And this would forgiven except this the same person who pointed out the lack of jurisdiction just one show ago. But maybe this is hyperbole to quiet the patients who are getting agitated. I'll grant that this is more nitpicking than anything else.

The joint is run by your non-denominational Asian I'm going to assume is your bad guy mad scientist who pretends to be helpful but is plotting on his own to do...well, something. The head of security is his adopted son tough guy who looks like a giant marshmallow. The army Sargent whose supposed to be the military support is sending secret messages and doesn't seem at all interested in solving the mystery.

Second Problem - Who called the CDC? The first time you see the bad guy mad scientist (BGMS) he's leaning over one of the first victims, eyes aglow with delight at his find, calling it "progress." He wouldn't want the CDC there. He controls the information in and out. The head of security follows him like he's in a cult, so not him either. If you need to placate the scientists, why not call in a fake CDC team, declare the whole thing over and get on with your day?

Now this facility is a massive structure in the middle of downtown nowhere, shaped like a new age
football stadium. How they achieved that...no roads, no boats, just ice mind you, is just off the scale believable of course (insert sarcasm). Of course it has to be that large so that the air vents are big enough to crawl through, but that's coming up in like twenty minutes, hold on. Now, when the CDC arrives, the BGMS informs the them that this base in the middle of nowhere holds 160 scientists, of various disciplines.

Third Problem - The CDC arrives, looks around and decides to let the base run as usual, we'll figure this all out. But it's just four of them. They couldn't ask the staff of scientists (who by episode 2 are getting antsy) to say, help out? Even if only 20 of the onsite scientists are qualified, isn't twenty people working on it better than just four people spread really thin?

Peter Farragut - our infectee - Photo via Syfy

Which leads to the fourth problem immediately. At the start of the second episode the first zombie-like infectee (who just happens to the head of the CDC team's brother who slept with his ex-wife who also happens to be on this CDC team - oh the luck!) slips out of the ventilation ducts and breaks into a section, infecting six people, three of whom run off. The heroic head of the CDC orders everyone to their rooms, and for everyone to only travel in pairs.

So why are the two CDC agents in peril in the first half of the episode doing exactly the opposite?  The old wise woman scientist is working alone in the half-monkey lab in the basement? Knock knock, zombie like creature. The youngest agent goes to the medical supply room alone. Knock knock, zombie like creature? Really? I understand where they might not follow the rules of reality, this is fiction after all, but then you can't follow the rules you JUST MADE UP? These silly setups were followed by a half assed quarantine, the patients (all doctors!) clearly displaying one of the signs the CDC says to look for but everyone ignoring it, a heavy handed reveal that that wasn't so much a hint as it was a lazy writing cliche and boom...the big horror finale. And that's where the free episodes stop.

Now I realize the time line and social circles are all condensed for television, so some of this is be
expected. I mean the weeks or months it would normally take to track what virus actually looked like
would be ridiculously boring television, so eh. But still, the show is supposed to have each episode equal roughly one day, so maybe you can stretch things out a little more? And while there is boring TV there is also stupid TV.  This is the latter. They keep saying "I've never seen anything like it" and "we don't know what it is," then why don't they act like it? And I keep getting horror cliches from the skeletons, blood spatters and people looking over their shoulder seeing nothing then BAM! Monster. Er..zombie like infectee. That's not good television, and I shouldn't be able to guess what's coming this frequently. The upbeat waiting room music they play to keep the viewer off balance quickly becomes annoying as well. I'd looked a review that said this is good, only to realize that the reviewer was lying.

This to me creates what I consider a counter productive trend in niche television. You've got a serial show, where people need to watch every episode to understand what's going on. I watched the two episodes online, then watched the current episode I and I have no clue what happened in between. The latest episode has new characters, new alliances, but hey, the big horror finale was addressed. I think. The BGMS is tied up in a room. If something else key happened, I don't know. Because as it turns out, unless I give them money  - because I THINK the other episodes are unlockable online due to the key symbol over the episodes - I'll never know what else the writers decided. But honestly, with the writing so hokey, I'm not all that interested in finding out. Yeah, lose an episode and you got no reason to watch anymore. So I'm out playa, ya'll at Helix have a good run.

Barkeep. I'll need a glass of white wine and a small plate of the crab cakes. Thanks. And could you turn to ESPN. Cool.

The New-ish Atlanta Classic

Ramblings Post #242
Be careful what you wish for, you just might get it. Which might explain why most of my wishes seem to focus on large sums of cash, the problems of which I am already familiar via classic rap, bad movies and the occasional piece of literature I can't believe got printed. They say money can't buy everything, but you know what? I'll take one for the team to find out if it's true. I'm really doing this....for you.

Normally around now, or sometime in the last week, I would been regaling you, both of my readers, about the previous weekend at the Georgia Dome amongst my old classmates as we would have gathered together to tell old lies, embellish some alcohol soaked memories and pretend we were all five sizes smaller than we are now. Or will be five sizes smaller by next year when we see them again, because we're going on a diet next week...I swear. But alas, last year without the venerable Hundred (my alma mater's marching band) the attendance at the dome was spotty. Well, sad is probably a better term. "Not good" as a phrase comes to mind.

So this year they invited some other schools.

I had people call and tell me they were coming a week in advance. They eventually had to back out because of work. I kept getting the email invites to the various functions - a Pre-Game Brunch, a Cocktail Drop-In, an After Party or two. It appeared for all intents and circumstances that the city wouldn't miss my old classmates and I at all. I was a wee bit bummed.

On game day I stayed home. No big, I've become a bit of a homebody anyway. I'd slip down later after the parking vendors lowered their prices I said. Then I looked at a few of the pictures that some of my more entrepreneurial classmates took as they ventured out anyway. After all a buck is a buck, you can rent out the same spots, charge the same event prices and it's not like they even have to change the DJ, so you get a flyer, you get flyer, everybody gets a flyer! But, looking at the crowd...or lack thereof...I hope they didn't put up too much money behind that thing.

That ain't my school. No sir.

Because even if I thought the stadium looked empty last year, and it did...at least there was a bustling and moving crowd on the concourses, eating the overpriced vendor food and seeing all those old classmates to lie to. And if they weren't inside, then there was the crowd outside, enjoying the impromptu vendor mall, the free concerts, the grilling and chilling and planning on a evening of sinning...er, enjoying the Atlanta nightlife. But the vendors looked lonely on the concourses. And this year there was no outside crowd. None. I understand that at some point they started giving tickets away. I know things are rough all over...but oh my.

Maybe it's not their fault. After all, it may have taken a while for our crowd to build back in our day. But then I asked myself, who takes time to let things develop in this day and age?

I think that next year we'll be invited back.

Barkeep, let me get that Gin and Tang. Yes, I know what I said, and yes, I realize that it doesn't make sense.

A Quick Restaurant Review - Del Frisco's Grille

How do you end up at Atlanta's newest hot spot, one which is packed to the rooftop and not accepting reservations, and still manage to score a table at prime dining time on the outdoor deck on a late fall Friday night? You travel with a VIP diva, that's how. Or at least that's how I ended up at Del Frisco's in Buckhead to celebrate Serve's birthday before she jetted out for a Caribbean getaway. But I'm getting ahead of myself. Let's go back a bit.

It's Friday night in Atlanta, and I'm...home. I've got a rousing evening planned with Dwarf Fortress strategy, writing sample tinkering, light bar exam prep and maybe even re-reading some home renovation magazines. Excitement! The oven is preheating, I'm about to take the defrosted chicken out of the fridge and my phone rings. It's Spanky, the VIP diva, asking what I'm doing. I explain that I'm about to have a Martha Stewart episode - baked chicken mixed with brown rice, mushrooms, broccoli, green onions, maybe some sweet corn all tossed in a pot, then add warm naan bread on the side and maybe a nice white wine or the Crystal Light - when she asks if I want to go out because it's Serve's birthday. Serve's out with a manfriend, and she's gonna meet after for drinks, but Spanky doesn't want to eat alone. I've been making it a habit as of late to actually go out when people ask because as I understand it the internet doesn't turn off in this country and it just so happens television repeats a lot. She up in arms about this spot she wants to go to Del Frisco's Grille that she read about on urbandaddy.com, so I shelve my plans and tell her I'll be over in a bit.

I need to say this now, because the idea ran through my head pretty much all night, and in fact I even mentioned it Spanky. It felt odd because this was the kinda of night that in the past I would have spent with Sporty. Fun, adventurous, and different. Without her, there was something missing. Sigh.

Spanky decides we're going to ride the train up to Buckhead. If you're from a major city and think nothing of riding the train, let me tell you now that Atlanta is not that kinda city. It's a car kinda city. Very car. So riding the train, something I formerly had primarily done to go to sporting events at the dome was out of tweak. But I was game. We boarded with people riding up from the airport, people getting off work late, collge age kids headed out into the city, a veritable smorgasbord of people. It proved convienent as well, as the station was only a half a block from the restaurant which appeared to be on valet overload maximum.

So we arrive around 8 p.m. On a Friday. With no reservations. The hostesses politely informs us that a table might open up around 10:30pm, but we're welcome to wait at the bar. The already packed, two deep, shoulder to shoulder bar. Where five guys I already know are sitting! I leave it up to Spanky and try to catch the bartender's attention. I am not successful. I am not amused. But, ten minutes or so later when I go back over to the hostess station to check on Spanky, the hostess says right this way and we're given a seat on upstairs patio overlooking Peachtree St.

I refuse to ask Spanky what she might have told that woman to get us that table.

Del Frisco's is one of the places that has the short one page menu, supposedly indicating we only cook these things and we do them well, in a movie glossy interior. Apparently they were not informed of Atlanta's "big empty room" concept of restaurant decoration. Interesting. It was a rocky start as the bar was out "good" bourbon and the seat cushions insisted on stillness, not comfort, but we soldiered on. We started with a crab cake (my habit), with Spanky getting the Delmonico steak with a potato cake and me getting the Cheesburger with no cheese. 

Sooooo, the server was great. AND, their signature shot, the Honey Badger, - pineapple juice, sweet and sour and Tuaca - were so good we had a second round when Serve and her birthday manfriend arrived (they'd dined at Dante's Down the Hatch which was right next door.) And Del Frisco's is great for people watching. And they had these outdoor heaters with flames shooting up like three feet in the air.  And the view of Peachtree St included the Christmas tree at Lenox Mall and the soothing motion of traffic. Yup, it sure did.

Oh, the food? Um, maybe I need to apologize to my brother, because I think that beef in my burger was grass fed. It didn't have that burger taste. And the fries were too skinny. And the crab cake was just so-so. And Spanky is still trying to figure out what the potato cake was...think mashed potatoes in a patty, with stuff inside. What stuff she's not sure.  She did like the actual steak though. This supposed to be steak house, a national chain steakhouse, all kitted out - the wall of wine was nice, but there are better steak houses with better steaks...and trendy stylish joints elsewhere in the city. And a steak house isn't just steak, it's sides, it's proper drinks, it's atmosphere.  Maybe it's because they're new and maybe it will get better.

I would have been getting the side eye from Sporty over this one.

Barkeep, explain to me how you run out of good bourbon on a Friday night...at 8pm.

Where are the actors?

Ramblings Post #152
I'm supposed to be taking an exam right now. Not like, I should be studying, or prepping or anything like that. I was supposed to have downloaded the thing at 9pm and gotten cracking. But I got home and ate too much. Coincidentally of the wrong thing, not wanting to cook then have to clean up, so i stopped somewhere. And instead of the salad I got the chicken fingers. So instead of typing furiously and having one of two behind me, I got sleepy. So, I'll cue it up on tomorrow and go at it. Tired of looking at the material, I went on and pulled a post out of my half finished folder...polished it up...and don't judge me. I am taking the final tomorrow. Seriously.

A lot of actors today aren't really actors. They stand in front of the camera, recite the lines, and they get paid, yes, but mostly they're just being themselves in roles written specifically for them. Essentially playing themselves over and over again. Different names, different locales, slightly different scripts, but the same. Nice work if you can get it. But there is no ability there, only the same riffs on the same old concepts again and again, recycled because of the buzz of the moment, the laziness and fear of the producers and studios.

Think about it. How many times has Vince Vaughn played Vince Vaughn? Don't get me wrong, I like Vince, with his snarky comments and that deadpan look he gives when the script calls for him to face something exasperating. But where is the depth? Where is the reaching of ability? Where is the Vince as, I dunno, somebody not Vince?

And aren't most of Adam Sandler's movies just about Adam Sandler being, well Adam Sandler? Other than that travesty Little Nicky, which was Sandler doing a bit for a film's length, when has Sandler been somebody other than Sandler on film as of late? The thing he's got coming up where he plays his own twin sister looks like an extended episode of an old 80's sitcom trope.

Chris Rock's last few outings have him getting a little lazy too. Technically, he was barely even a defined character in the last thing I saw him in, the remake of Death at a Funeral, or Head of State or a movie I actually liked - I Think I love my Wife. Its not like he can't act, he was decent in ...wait, how many years ago was New Jack City?

Has Russell Brand ever been anyone on screen other than Russell Brand? And no, Russell Brand with and without mustache is technically not a different character.

There was a time when actors actually had to act to be in movies. They'd take the role given, and mold yourself into the character. If you were really good, people might not recognize you if you stepped out of your established character - see Larry Drake in Darkman v LA Law. Although crazy now, Randy Quaid was an actor, shifting from the crazy cousin in the National Lampoon movies to playing a believable President Lyndon Johnson. Billy Bob Thorton can act. Almost unfairly, Brad Pitt can act if given a chance. Nobody's asked Denzel to act in ages. Bruce Willis used to be able to until he cut all his hair off.

Geoffery Rush, who appeared in The King's Speech and was nominated for an Oscar also plays pirate rogue caricature Captain Barbossa in the Pirates of the Caribbean movies. Now that, in case you're wondering, is real acting.

A great actor melts into the role. A star does the opposite. An actor isn't worried about his personal presence, which seems to dominate the idea of the making of a film now, but is more concerned with his character's appearance. I think Tony Curtis put it best. His first onscreen role was a bellhop delivering a message - in front of the camera for all of 5 seconds. He said he looked like star, you could just tell. The problem, to hear him say it, was he was supposed to look like bellhop.

Bar Chatter

Bar Chatter #17
Sometimes it just ain't enough to make a post, but it's still needs to go out....it's just bar chatter.




I am apparently uninterested in thousands of hits and lots of traffic for this blog.

I've visited other blogs, nosed around a bit, and since this blog contains no nudity or links to it, no funny or artsy picture cavalcade, and only limited political and sports commentary, it's not exactly what you would call a "big draw".

I've considered putting in deceptive search terms to draw in the crowds, but I have to ask myself what am I really looking for in a reader? I'd prefer someone who actually reads this stuff as opposed to someone who clicked in to see the crazy imaginary subject. The lonely soul who might click through to see "buck naked whatever" or retort to a screed such as "that politician is a hucky muck" really aren't my intended audience. I realize the hypocrisy in that statement because I write it, then go look at the stuff, but logic is convoluted. And purple.

This would be a lot easier if I was a comely young coed, who occasionally posted risque personal photos among her mental musings, fashion and weird photographic discoveries. I note that some of those blogs have thousands of followers. But as I is no longer young, and decidedly male...although I am rather good looking, but not comely..., and have decided to continue to post mostly my own written content with the occasional photo enhancement. Okay, it's really that I don't look that great in a thong, so this is what it gon' be.

Still a few comments would be nice.

Weekends have lost their zing..

It's been a long weekend. It should have made me happy but it didn't. Where to begin?

It has been a long standing opinion of mine that little old men who do yard work should have a state sponsored pension plan. If you've ever had the services of one you'll find out they can do everything. Yard work, painting, plumbing, drywall....the list just goes on and on. And they're willing to it all for cheap! I feel bad when they say "pay me what you think it's worth" because I can't afford what it's worth.

Saturday afternoon this guy shows up at my house. When I was out in the yard earlier in the week he'd walked by and offered to cut the grass, so I said holla back at me later, not really expecting anything. I mean how often does an off-hand comment comeback to bite you in the ass?

He shows up.

So we work out a deal where he cuts the grass for like $30, and then cleans out the branches and leaves by the side of my house (which is still pretty fucked up from when I'd first moved in) for like another $70. Does a damn good job.

It turns out Starz had all three Pirates of the Caribbean movies on all day Saturday and Sunday...and still haven't seen them all the way through. I messed up and watched the first one and was, I'm ashamed to say, hooked. Crisp writing and dialog and Captain Jack Sparrow. I'm sorry, did I get on the bandwagon late?

Then my partner called and I ran up to this cookout that was chock full. It's odd when you go out and things that would in the past have gotten you...excited... are now, less than exciting. My mind is still not right.

Then Sunday morning me and my new yard man go over and clean out Sporty's dog run that I been promising to clean out for three weeks now. The little fenced in cube looks like a jungle, with poison ivy and hanging branches and trees than have grown into the fence. He knocks out what looks like six hours work in two. Barely broke a sweat. I suddenly felt very puny. The times I've missed the gym were suddenly very bad. The pile of brush must have been twenty feet on the sidewalk five feet high.

Then I find out and old friend is having a cookout, roll over there to watch the game and run into the HBCU reminder squad, which goes over the basic concepts and highlights of the old alma mater and continually reaches the conclusion that we're all still surprised anyone actually ever graduates. Then when the 25th dude showed up and it was still only the original 8 girls, I raised up stakes and went home. Hard leg festivals are not my thing.

To this...

It looks like it might be starting again. I'm getting too old for this shit. I got used to liking it when...well, those new days seem to be fading just as fast. Old is all I got. But lately everything seems to be losing it's flavor.

Barkeep...I dunno. Something.

A Quick Restaurant Review - Thrive

Last evening Sporty and I got together for a bite in the city. In the car we couldn't decide what to eat: she'd already been to the place I had picked out and her diet is no bread no fried foods for now. So sitting at a redlight downtown I said there is a place on this corner and place on that corner (Thrive and Maxim Prime). We'll park and if we don't like spot A we'll go to spot B. After a glance over the menu at Thrive, she said she could figure something out, so we settled in.

Service was... how can I say this.... a little slow.

We talked about Emerils closing the Atlanta restaurant, our memories of the place and how the discussion in the AJC got regional then racial, where we still planned to go out, and some other stuff. After a while the waiter rolls by. Instead of the crab cake, which is pan seared but close enough to fried to matter, we got salads. Her the Cesear, me a Cobb. Which apparently takes a while to prepare.

So we talked about working out and cell phones and whatnot. After a while the waiter gets our food order. We search the menu for the grilled items intently and interrogate the waiter before selection. Then we wait for a while. Then a bit more. We discussed the decor of the restaurant which Sporty described as semi-cheap looking, she has some of the same light fixtures in her garage, and I thought they could use a better designer. It's another one of those places bulit into a closet that would be really hot up North. We also wondered if this sound we kept hearing was techo music or the AC unit having problems. We're not really into techno, so it just may have actually been that hot new sound from Prague.

Then after a little more of a while, the food came. Flank steak for her, sirloin for me. After that long wait in which the manager stopped by the table to check on us twice and we just chatted and laughed I was almost of the idea the food would be lackluster. Quite the contrary. The steak was a great piece of meat and Sporty liked her flank steak after it was dipped in the A1 sauce the waiter thoughtfully dropped off. The baked potato I found out was less than stellar, however.

I really needed this outing with her. All week I had been on edge, jittery and irritable, to the degree my co-workers are asking if I'm okay and offering to take me to strip clubs. Somehow being with her calms me, and it's moments like this where I realize I really do need her. I don't know what I'm going to do when she leaves. It was the first time in a week I walked into my house at the end of a day and didn't feel depressed. The idea of her leaving has taken my appetite, so it was also the first real meal I had eaten in about a week.

On the upside, all my clothes fit better.

Thrive has a downtown location (which means it's a tourist spot) and menu that's nice (but slightly overpriced), and the waitstaff needs a tip or two on good customer service. As we chilled out afterwards, just enjoying the evening, the waiter came by and took the signed credit card slip off my table while I sat there, which has never happened before. Awkward.

Barkeep...water. Keep it coming.

A Quick Restaurant Review - Steel Rest. & Lounge

We had reservations at seven on a Wednesday for the new hotspot Steel Restaurant and Lounge down in Midtown on West Peachtree just below 10th street. Despite a growing chorus of logic and reason, I continue to confound myself by hanging out with Sporty. I never said I was bright.

Now from 5 to 7 on Wednesdays it's Martini's and free sushi, so when we got there they had patrons spilling out onto the street and I was glad we'd made reservations. Only everybody else was there for the aforementioned promotion and so only the bar was shoulder to shoulder, the dining room behind the string stranded water fixture was blissfully free.

It's a nice place, very well laid out with exception of one support post by the sushi bar in the main dining room. It's got a very nice vibe and Sporty kept commenting on how cool the whole place looked.

The service was swift and professional. I mean they unfolded our napkins and spread them on our laps, they made quiet suggestions when we hesitated, they brought out the hot towels before the meal so that we could clean our hands, the waiter made the simple syrup himself at the bar for my sweet tea, they were quiet, unobtrusive and dropped off and picked up things without being asked or making us feel rushed. The owner came over when we were done and checked on us. As far at service goes, this is one of the best in Atlanta. Kudos.

Oh yeah, the food.

Did I mention that they were swift, the food came quickly, the bathrooms were easy to find and the dining room laid out well?

The small plate crabmeat and mango spring roll was nice. Good mango. Crisp lettuce. Hmmmm.

Our server, man was he friendly. Great guy. And the bar cleared out as soon as they cut off the free sushi. Like whoosh. By the time we were ready to leave the bar area was a ghost town. So the promotion worked...kinda sorta.

Okay, fine. It was such a nice place too. Sporty had the Orange Chicken and I had the Korean Beef. Or the "Shaken Beef". It was hard to tell. It was just food. I mean there was little flavor...no zing. Nada. Maybe I caught the chef on a bad night. Cause the service was excellent!

Drink, appeitizer and dinner might have been thirty minutes. Seriously. They were quick..and since it wasn't that good we kinda picked over it. Sporty put some of her chicken on my plate, which used to be a sign I had to eat it, but even she was forgiving this time when I just looked at it. The rest of the time we just sat and talked. House stuff, family stuff, jokes and whatnot. Felt like old times. That was worth the bland food, that other forty five or so minutes we sat talking.

Then the owner showed up asking how it was...and for the first time in like ever, Sporty didn't speak up! I had to tell him the food was par average. She kept trying to be tactful. What was up with that?

So Steel is lovely, the service is par excellence...I mean like Seegar's good. The food is...well, don't go all starving like hungry.

A Quick Restaurant Review - JCT Kitchen & Bar.

There is a little cabal of restaurants on a corner of Howell Mill that holds Osteria Del Figo and Taqueria Del Sol with West Egg around the corner. And tucked away in the back, behind the luxury knick knack store and the spa is JCT Kitchen. It is the only space there that has complimentary valet, which was surprising.

Sporty and I dropped in apparently because I'd mentioned it twice when suggesting places. Which is amazing, because I know I've suggested Alfredo's more than a few times and we've yet to grace it's doors. Anyway, we snuck in, got a corner table and waited for the dazzling service and atmosphere all these other reviews seem to gush about.

It was okay. I guess.

We generally love a good appetizer, but the grouping at JCT looked bland. Goat cheese? Angry Mussels? What is essentially cheese fries? Is this a TGI Fridays in disguise? No matter, place looks okay...but then Sporty notices that they don't serve water out of a pitcher, they leave a clear glass bottle on the table. A bottle with no cap. She asks: "What if they don't wash the bottle after every service?" I assure her that they do.

Suffice it to say, Sporty makes it through dinner on one glass of water.

I don't spot the booths until dinner's almost over. (Note to restaurants, black folks always want to sit in the booth. Even we don't know why.) We got there early so we watch the place quickly fill up space, which bodes well.

For eats she's thinking of getting the Skate Wing Pan Roast, until she finds out it's not roast, it's fish. Which is kind of cheeky labeling. So she opts for the Meat & Potatoes and I get the Springer Mountain Fried Chicken. The food is... okay, the chicken just a hair too salty, and oddly cut. Instead of a breast fillet, I get a wing attached breast and a thigh, after I'd mentioned to the waitress I don't eat dark meat. Hello, service? My dinner companion liked her steak, but thought the vegetables were excellent. So now she's on vegetables, which I hope doesn't mean we're going veggie.

The food was so uninspired that we forewent dessert as well. I can usually tell if a restaurant is up to par, as our trips last longer, but this time we were in and out in less than an hour and half. Our record is three and half (at Two Urban Licks).

I wish I could recommend the JCT, but it just seemed so middle of the road. Right down the damn middle.

Barkeep...if you could just touch up this Jameson. Thanks.