This morning I was having a dream about being in Las Vegas with some friends; one of them had passes to watch a sort of Cirque style show from backstage. Someone in the crowd backstage wrote a note and had it passed to me, saying I was too old and not cool enough to watch from backstage. I sent back a note that went something like this:
I have performed on stage since the age of 10, and have been seen by thousands of people. I have been on TV, had my own show, and have been in two feature films. I have been recognized in a store and asked for my autograph. Only 4 times, but still. I am friends with a famous comedian and actor, and he has introduced me to other famous people. I have shaken hands with a president, and I know someone who was a presidential advisor. I have been in a fleet of limousines, and had a doorman hold the door for me as I got out "Hey! That's so-and-so! Hey, that's another famous guy! Hey, that's some random stranger!" I even rented a limo once just to get to the airport.
I have jumped naked from a plane wearing only a parachute, helmet and boots, which I will never do again even if the plane is on fire. I have looked off the edge of a cliff 2000 feet down into a river gorge, and from 120 feet under water looked over the edge of a canyon wall that went down 13,000 feet more. I have flown a light plane to see a girlfriend three times, and sailed a 32 foot boat along the coast of California numerous times. I have ridden horses, both rental trail-horses and privately owned, and have even ridden an elephant. I have ridden a camel to the Great Pyramid of Giza, and out 5 miles into the open desert in Egypt. Once I even rode a sno-disc down a toboggan run, which was moderately stupid. See parachuting.
I have been to Egypt, France, and if you count stopping at the airports in Frankfurt and München then I have been to Germany. I have been to 18 of the states, visiting various cities, and driven through 10 other states. No idea how many I have flown over. I have never been to Alaska or Hawaii, Mexico or Canada; but I have walked down Bourbon Street in New Orleans, along the Patriots Road in Boston, and had a drink in Ben Franklin's favorite tavern. I have been to Puxatawney, and driven behind an Amish wagon on the road. I have stood looking up at the balcony where the Declaration of Independence was read for the first time, and even tried to spend the night in the graveyard in Sleepy Hollow where Washington Irving is buried.
I have had three major surgeries, and one minor; I have broken my arm. I have held a woman and a man in my arms as they died, and have had to let go of five cats when it was time. I have had three of my best friends die; I am fortunate to have known every one, and gladly accept the pain of losing them, for the honor and joy of having known them enough to grieve.
I have loved several women greatly, more quite a bit, and love all my friends a great deal, though I would not kiss many of them (you know who you are guys... ). I have also had my heart broken several times. That also was worth it, as the love still lasts. Well, except for two (and yeah, you know who you are too...). I have over 200 friends on Facebook, and can honestly say that not only do I know their names, I know almost every one well enough to call on the phone, stop by for a visit, or buy a drink in a bar. Most of them would buy me one as well.
I finished the note "What have YOU got?"
I consider the above to be a good start; I still have many, many things to do and see. I have not cruised 1000 feet below the surface of the ocean, or ridden even deeper with James Cameron; I have not gone scuba diving in Hawaii, Mexico, or Australia. I have not played in the open ocean with a dolphin, though I did get all three in the petting/feeding pool at Sea World to start doing tricks. I almost managed to talk the staff into letting me get in with them after hours. I have not yet said "will you marry me", though I planned to, twice, nor had the chance to say "Well, yeah, I'm here aren't I?" ( "I do" seems so stiff and abrupt...). I have not held my own child in my arms, nor seen them learn, and fall, and rise again, though I still hope to one day. That would be a great adventure.
I have stood gazing up at the moon, the planets and the stars; but I have yet to sail the seas of space. That would be an adventure too. I even know my first course to lay in: Second star to the right, and straight on until morning.
Saturday, May 1, 2010
Sunday, April 25, 2010
How to spend $34.00 and smile
It's not often today that you can get your money's worth for anything. Gas is over $3.10 a gallon, because we need to make sure oil company executives get massive bonuses for record profits; milk is almost half again as expensive, because, you know, we have to import and buy so much on the spot market. Darn those foreign cow coalitions... we pay too much for healthcare, auto insurance, home mortgages, pretty much everything.
So: Why is it that after paying $17.00 a ticket for the special Imax glasses to go with the Imax 3D movie, I feel happy? Well that's EASY! Blue stripey girls are ... wait sorry... DRAGONS are hot! (ha ha). More specifically, Blue/Black dragons that spit (Plasma balls? Lightning? Whatever..) are hot. I was more than satisfied with the Imax versions visual effect, and combined with a superbly told charming and funny story, the film is there firmly in my current Top Ten. The writing is excellent, and the actor voicing Hiccup delivers his lines with the perfect punch amd wry humor, and the right amount of frustrated teen when called for. Toothless the dragon always does a great job, though he was not given much dialogue to work with. Having Vikings with Scottish accents just goes to show how well travelled the Vikings really were, and Craig Ferguson and Gerard Butler are charmingly brash, overbearing and simplistic as required. The twin brother and sister keep their squabbles funny, every time they do it, and the kid who simply HAS to have been drawn to look like Jack Black acts like him as well.
The big surprise for me was Astrid; I was absolutely certain that Kirsten Dunst was doing the voice. That of course COULD be because Astrid looks exactly like Kirsten, and copies a number of her gestures, such as the lock of hair hanging over her right eye, the glare, and the smile. When I saw that it was America Ferrera who did the voice all I could think was "Well, that explains it, she is a great actress too!" I have to say, if you are going to see a 3D Imax film, this is the one. The flying scenes took me back to the opening night of "The Empire Strikes Back" with the little airborne speeders racing over the ice and snow. Yow! There is a good reason I think 3D is more than a fad; the visuals here are the primary one.
I also saw "Kick-Ass". Be warned; if potty mouthed 12 year old girls in pony tails are going to shock you, don't be eating or drinking when Hit Girl first shows up. The people in front of you will get really pissed. This movie was funny as hell, and about as politically correct and sensitive as a Beavis and Butthead meet South Park film would be. This film makes no excuses for the level of profanity, masturbation jokes, violence or cleavage shots; and while they don't all get used, I am reasonably certain that all the guns Neo and Trinity did not use were grabbed up by the armourer Damian Mitchell, and the props head. Rudolf Vrba did a great job on the fights; by the time Hit Girl starts, well, kicking ass, nothing she does ( a wall run and flip? ) looks remotely silly. Aside from the fact she is a homicidal maniac, she does a good job being second place in the cute department (for a 12 year old; back off folks (GR) ). As the love interest Lyndsey Fonseca (who is a respectable 24... pfftthhhbbb..) is extremely funny, and VERY pretty. Christopher Minz also has a good part, and actually ties back to "How to Train Your Dragon" as the voice of Fishlegs..
So: Why is it that after paying $17.00 a ticket for the special Imax glasses to go with the Imax 3D movie, I feel happy? Well that's EASY! Blue stripey girls are ... wait sorry... DRAGONS are hot! (ha ha). More specifically, Blue/Black dragons that spit (Plasma balls? Lightning? Whatever..) are hot. I was more than satisfied with the Imax versions visual effect, and combined with a superbly told charming and funny story, the film is there firmly in my current Top Ten. The writing is excellent, and the actor voicing Hiccup delivers his lines with the perfect punch amd wry humor, and the right amount of frustrated teen when called for. Toothless the dragon always does a great job, though he was not given much dialogue to work with. Having Vikings with Scottish accents just goes to show how well travelled the Vikings really were, and Craig Ferguson and Gerard Butler are charmingly brash, overbearing and simplistic as required. The twin brother and sister keep their squabbles funny, every time they do it, and the kid who simply HAS to have been drawn to look like Jack Black acts like him as well.
The big surprise for me was Astrid; I was absolutely certain that Kirsten Dunst was doing the voice. That of course COULD be because Astrid looks exactly like Kirsten, and copies a number of her gestures, such as the lock of hair hanging over her right eye, the glare, and the smile. When I saw that it was America Ferrera who did the voice all I could think was "Well, that explains it, she is a great actress too!" I have to say, if you are going to see a 3D Imax film, this is the one. The flying scenes took me back to the opening night of "The Empire Strikes Back" with the little airborne speeders racing over the ice and snow. Yow! There is a good reason I think 3D is more than a fad; the visuals here are the primary one.
I also saw "Kick-Ass". Be warned; if potty mouthed 12 year old girls in pony tails are going to shock you, don't be eating or drinking when Hit Girl first shows up. The people in front of you will get really pissed. This movie was funny as hell, and about as politically correct and sensitive as a Beavis and Butthead meet South Park film would be. This film makes no excuses for the level of profanity, masturbation jokes, violence or cleavage shots; and while they don't all get used, I am reasonably certain that all the guns Neo and Trinity did not use were grabbed up by the armourer Damian Mitchell, and the props head. Rudolf Vrba did a great job on the fights; by the time Hit Girl starts, well, kicking ass, nothing she does ( a wall run and flip? ) looks remotely silly. Aside from the fact she is a homicidal maniac, she does a good job being second place in the cute department (for a 12 year old; back off folks (GR) ). As the love interest Lyndsey Fonseca (who is a respectable 24... pfftthhhbbb..) is extremely funny, and VERY pretty. Christopher Minz also has a good part, and actually ties back to "How to Train Your Dragon" as the voice of Fishlegs..
Wednesday, April 21, 2010
Tears like steel rain
I lost a friend not long ago. I wasn't home when the news came; I got it 12 hours late. Not that it was news I wanted, but I feel I should somehow have known, and checked sooner. Maybe I did, and it was just that all the other mundane things got in the way of the signal. Maybe I thought the reason I woke up early was because I knew I had to be up at 8 AM, not because that was when the first call came, to the home I was not in. Maybe that's why I woke in the middle of the night; not because the dogs where I was staying jumped in bed with me, but because that was when she left, trying to say goodbye one last time.
I'm filled with a variety of emotions, swirling like a tornado, boiling like lava. They scald and whip me, or leave me in a deceptive calm, the eye of a raging storm. Pain, guilt, anger, and love; all twisting about each other, each one striving for precedence. The pain of losing one you love, one you care for, one you trust is obvious. Its natural, and part of the price you pay for loving and caring. It's the dark flip-side of the bright shiny coin of love; and that bright side is worth the risk of exposure to the dark, ten times over if not more.
The guilt is there too; no logic anchors it, no common sense sways it. Would she be alive today if I had been awake, 3000 miles distant? What if I had called again the day before, since I was doing nothing else at the time? Or if I had gone to visit on her birthday? Maybe told her I was planning on a surprise visit? Perhaps if I hadn't flipped off that driver who didn't signal? Which butterfly in China needed to live, or to die, so that the flapping of wings created a breeze of energy that swept across the globe and held her here? The heart does not know logic. It knows only the now; and right now, all it knows is loss. Like a selfish child it wants, and needs, and no pale thing like practicality will bend it from it's path. When the mind gets dragged in, guilt is the savage goad that lurks around every corner.
Anger is there too; it is never the first emotion felt. Pain is the first, but anger often follows it. In this case too, there is no logic. I am angry at the doctors who didn't do enough or did too much; at the insurance companies who were slow or stupid; at the nurses or even the kitchen staff who made small mistakes. I am angry at petty gods, stupid fates wielding shears, malicious deities and stupid karmic wheels. I am angry at myself for not being there; for not saving her; for not bringing her back; and angry at myself for being angry. And yes, I am angry with her as well. Angry with her for not staying longer, angry with her for not being continually amazing, angry with her for being human; angry with her for hurting me and leaving me.
The occasional calm, deceptive as it is, has one bonus. In that stillness I can hear her voice again. Like that one faint wisp of Hope, still there in Pandora's box, I hear it whisper to me. In those moments I can hear the love, remember the laughter, the moments holding her when that was what she needed; I can feel her hand in mine, or her fingers running through my hair or across my face. Her other friends, her husband and her son, they are there too, sharing the hurt, and the love, and we lean against each other there in the all too short lull; Patrick, Michael, Christina, Randy, Mykael, Stephanie and the rest, like fragile reeds on the verge of a monsoon.
The pain is gone for that brief moment, and I know that eventually, I will turn my inner eye and the storm will have passed; only the peace and love will remain. But in the meantime the tears fall, and strike like steel rain.
Elayne Rachel Fong Chi Sai Yac Lan 3/20/1962 4/11/2010
I'm filled with a variety of emotions, swirling like a tornado, boiling like lava. They scald and whip me, or leave me in a deceptive calm, the eye of a raging storm. Pain, guilt, anger, and love; all twisting about each other, each one striving for precedence. The pain of losing one you love, one you care for, one you trust is obvious. Its natural, and part of the price you pay for loving and caring. It's the dark flip-side of the bright shiny coin of love; and that bright side is worth the risk of exposure to the dark, ten times over if not more.
The guilt is there too; no logic anchors it, no common sense sways it. Would she be alive today if I had been awake, 3000 miles distant? What if I had called again the day before, since I was doing nothing else at the time? Or if I had gone to visit on her birthday? Maybe told her I was planning on a surprise visit? Perhaps if I hadn't flipped off that driver who didn't signal? Which butterfly in China needed to live, or to die, so that the flapping of wings created a breeze of energy that swept across the globe and held her here? The heart does not know logic. It knows only the now; and right now, all it knows is loss. Like a selfish child it wants, and needs, and no pale thing like practicality will bend it from it's path. When the mind gets dragged in, guilt is the savage goad that lurks around every corner.
Anger is there too; it is never the first emotion felt. Pain is the first, but anger often follows it. In this case too, there is no logic. I am angry at the doctors who didn't do enough or did too much; at the insurance companies who were slow or stupid; at the nurses or even the kitchen staff who made small mistakes. I am angry at petty gods, stupid fates wielding shears, malicious deities and stupid karmic wheels. I am angry at myself for not being there; for not saving her; for not bringing her back; and angry at myself for being angry. And yes, I am angry with her as well. Angry with her for not staying longer, angry with her for not being continually amazing, angry with her for being human; angry with her for hurting me and leaving me.
The occasional calm, deceptive as it is, has one bonus. In that stillness I can hear her voice again. Like that one faint wisp of Hope, still there in Pandora's box, I hear it whisper to me. In those moments I can hear the love, remember the laughter, the moments holding her when that was what she needed; I can feel her hand in mine, or her fingers running through my hair or across my face. Her other friends, her husband and her son, they are there too, sharing the hurt, and the love, and we lean against each other there in the all too short lull; Patrick, Michael, Christina, Randy, Mykael, Stephanie and the rest, like fragile reeds on the verge of a monsoon.
The pain is gone for that brief moment, and I know that eventually, I will turn my inner eye and the storm will have passed; only the peace and love will remain. But in the meantime the tears fall, and strike like steel rain.
Elayne Rachel Fong Chi Sai Yac Lan 3/20/1962 4/11/2010
Thursday, December 31, 2009
Movies!
“Avatar”! Whooooo-hoooooo! Yessss!
Oh. Sorry. Not the usual analytical fare you are used to. Ummm…. Yow!
OK. Don’t go for the plot. There is one; it’s just so been done that looking at the plot is like looking at a “Dick and Jane” book. They run, Spot joins them, they go bankrupt. Seen it already. Then again “Titanic” was just as simple. Boy meets girl, boy gets girl, boy loses girl, boy gets girl back, boy drowns. There is some variant here. Boy meets girl, boy gets girl, boy loses girl, boy gets girl back….. except they are blue and stripy with little glowy dot patterns. They don’t have icebergs. Or a big-ass ship. (OK, they don't. The military guys do). Or, ……. Well, whatever. OK, that isn't entirely fair. "Citizen Kane" or "Grapes of Wrath" it isn't. It is however an engaging story.
As far as the aliens go, they are a wonderful blend of striped tabby (they hiss when angry) and American Plains Indian. If you don’t wonder “did I drop acid and go to Dances with Wolves?” at one point, you did not watch Dances with Wolves enough times. Three should do it. The nasty Marine Colonel is straight from Central Castings list. “Please send over one gung-ho military commander with scars who is evil and one dimensional”. Poof. He stands around drinking coffee while ordering a bombing run. Oooooooh, evil… Michelle Rodriguez (Lost) is a tough fighter pilot. No effort there. Still, she works just fine.
Sigourney Weaver is, well, Sigourney. This role really did not do much to stretch her talents to the limit. “Sigourney, can you be flinty, cynical and tough please? And see if you can give me a soupcon of sexy, OK?” No problem Jim. Zoe Saldana, who played Uhuru in the re-imagined “Star Trek” is not really stretched much either. Giovanni Ribisi plays the naturally utterly-corrupt-corporate-puke out for a profit (see "Aliens"), but does some nice camera takes later on. “Am I doing the right thing? Should I stop the Colonel? Oooh, the stock just went up 2 points!” They all do good jobs, but again none of these characters take them deep into subtext.
So what. Flying things with four wings are cool. Floating mountains are cool. Gunships from Halo are cool. Blue stripy girls with tails and bows and arrows who hiss when they are angry are cool. Things that are pretty are cool. Stripy blue girls are cool. Tails are cool. Girls who are stripy and blue and have tails….. sorry. Looking down off the edge of a mountain that is also floating 2000 feet in the air is cool. Well, unless you have vertigo or are afraid of heights. In that case, skip the 3-D version I think. A few people I know will especially hate the “OK, we are going to jump out of this tree now. Follow me!” bit.
Go for the spectacle; I don’t think you’ll be disappointed. Unless you think the Disneyland fireworks show is dull, just because you have seen it 50 times (how could you go so seldom?). In which case, go back to watching “My Dinner With Andre”. Or Gunthy-Renker. One more thing; it’s the second week in the run, the theatre was sold out, and everyone applauded at the end. Gotta love it! As for the 3D version, they used it brilliantly. I honestly can't remember a single thing poking out at me "Hi! I'm a 3D effect branch! Cool, huh?" merely for the sake of showing me it was a 3D version. Instead the 3D was used (liberally) to enhance the environment of the film. When one character looked off the edge of a cliff, I think half the people in the theater grabbed their chair arms in reflex...... "ooooohhhhhh damn......."
Also I saw "Sherlock Holmes" and "Up in the Air".
Sherlock Holmes is exactly what you see in the previews. Robert Downey Jr. is an in-your-face butt-kicking Holmes, who uses his famous wits (two scenes) to calculate exactly how best to disable his foes. Then he does it. Boom. Jude Law as Watson is far from the hapless Watson of the Basil Rathbone/Nigel Bruce versions (good as those were). He also is not quite as tolerant of Holmes as we have come to expect. This is a brawling pair of dashing English crime-fighters from 1890's London. There are plenty of classic Holmes-esque twists, turns, and sub-plots. Plus some cool blowing up stuff. Blowing up stuff is cool. 1890's London is cool. Women in bustiers are cool. Blue stripy girls are ....Ooops. Sorry..... Wrong movie. I really can't say much more on this one without issuing spoiler alerts, so you will just have to see and judge yourself. Best Holmes film ever? Probably not. Fun to watch? You betcha!
Up in the Air is pure Clooney. He takes this guy and makes him someone you know in about 15 seconds. Vera Farmiga is spectacular as the female counterpart; no spoiler here, when they start comparing credit cards and frequent flyer cards, what should be dry as Melba Toast all but sizzles. Plus it's funny. Anna Somethingorother (sorry, no clue of last name...) is cute, talented, and takes off carrying her portrayal like a star NFL Running Back with the football, right to the end zone. She starts off like the annoying know-it-all college grad with a shiny degree who knows all the answers: Clooney starts yanking off the blinders and showing her the real world before they even get on the first plane. Should seem mean, but is done so deftly that while you might think "Wow, he's really being a jerk" you still laugh. And then realize just how right he is, each and every time. Again, no spoilers. Watch this one.
Oh. Sorry. Not the usual analytical fare you are used to. Ummm…. Yow!
OK. Don’t go for the plot. There is one; it’s just so been done that looking at the plot is like looking at a “Dick and Jane” book. They run, Spot joins them, they go bankrupt. Seen it already. Then again “Titanic” was just as simple. Boy meets girl, boy gets girl, boy loses girl, boy gets girl back, boy drowns. There is some variant here. Boy meets girl, boy gets girl, boy loses girl, boy gets girl back….. except they are blue and stripy with little glowy dot patterns. They don’t have icebergs. Or a big-ass ship. (OK, they don't. The military guys do). Or, ……. Well, whatever. OK, that isn't entirely fair. "Citizen Kane" or "Grapes of Wrath" it isn't. It is however an engaging story.
As far as the aliens go, they are a wonderful blend of striped tabby (they hiss when angry) and American Plains Indian. If you don’t wonder “did I drop acid and go to Dances with Wolves?” at one point, you did not watch Dances with Wolves enough times. Three should do it. The nasty Marine Colonel is straight from Central Castings list. “Please send over one gung-ho military commander with scars who is evil and one dimensional”. Poof. He stands around drinking coffee while ordering a bombing run. Oooooooh, evil… Michelle Rodriguez (Lost) is a tough fighter pilot. No effort there. Still, she works just fine.
Sigourney Weaver is, well, Sigourney. This role really did not do much to stretch her talents to the limit. “Sigourney, can you be flinty, cynical and tough please? And see if you can give me a soupcon of sexy, OK?” No problem Jim. Zoe Saldana, who played Uhuru in the re-imagined “Star Trek” is not really stretched much either. Giovanni Ribisi plays the naturally utterly-corrupt-corporate-puke out for a profit (see "Aliens"), but does some nice camera takes later on. “Am I doing the right thing? Should I stop the Colonel? Oooh, the stock just went up 2 points!” They all do good jobs, but again none of these characters take them deep into subtext.
So what. Flying things with four wings are cool. Floating mountains are cool. Gunships from Halo are cool. Blue stripy girls with tails and bows and arrows who hiss when they are angry are cool. Things that are pretty are cool. Stripy blue girls are cool. Tails are cool. Girls who are stripy and blue and have tails….. sorry. Looking down off the edge of a mountain that is also floating 2000 feet in the air is cool. Well, unless you have vertigo or are afraid of heights. In that case, skip the 3-D version I think. A few people I know will especially hate the “OK, we are going to jump out of this tree now. Follow me!” bit.
Go for the spectacle; I don’t think you’ll be disappointed. Unless you think the Disneyland fireworks show is dull, just because you have seen it 50 times (how could you go so seldom?). In which case, go back to watching “My Dinner With Andre”. Or Gunthy-Renker. One more thing; it’s the second week in the run, the theatre was sold out, and everyone applauded at the end. Gotta love it! As for the 3D version, they used it brilliantly. I honestly can't remember a single thing poking out at me "Hi! I'm a 3D effect branch! Cool, huh?" merely for the sake of showing me it was a 3D version. Instead the 3D was used (liberally) to enhance the environment of the film. When one character looked off the edge of a cliff, I think half the people in the theater grabbed their chair arms in reflex...... "ooooohhhhhh damn......."
Also I saw "Sherlock Holmes" and "Up in the Air".
Sherlock Holmes is exactly what you see in the previews. Robert Downey Jr. is an in-your-face butt-kicking Holmes, who uses his famous wits (two scenes) to calculate exactly how best to disable his foes. Then he does it. Boom. Jude Law as Watson is far from the hapless Watson of the Basil Rathbone/Nigel Bruce versions (good as those were). He also is not quite as tolerant of Holmes as we have come to expect. This is a brawling pair of dashing English crime-fighters from 1890's London. There are plenty of classic Holmes-esque twists, turns, and sub-plots. Plus some cool blowing up stuff. Blowing up stuff is cool. 1890's London is cool. Women in bustiers are cool. Blue stripy girls are ....Ooops. Sorry..... Wrong movie. I really can't say much more on this one without issuing spoiler alerts, so you will just have to see and judge yourself. Best Holmes film ever? Probably not. Fun to watch? You betcha!
Up in the Air is pure Clooney. He takes this guy and makes him someone you know in about 15 seconds. Vera Farmiga is spectacular as the female counterpart; no spoiler here, when they start comparing credit cards and frequent flyer cards, what should be dry as Melba Toast all but sizzles. Plus it's funny. Anna Somethingorother (sorry, no clue of last name...) is cute, talented, and takes off carrying her portrayal like a star NFL Running Back with the football, right to the end zone. She starts off like the annoying know-it-all college grad with a shiny degree who knows all the answers: Clooney starts yanking off the blinders and showing her the real world before they even get on the first plane. Should seem mean, but is done so deftly that while you might think "Wow, he's really being a jerk" you still laugh. And then realize just how right he is, each and every time. Again, no spoilers. Watch this one.
Monday, November 9, 2009
Just got back from Elsewhere. Often advertised on TV as "Cache Creek Casino". For a place that is only 30 minutes from Davis, or Vacaville, or Sacramento, it's more remote and almost as hard to find as Xanadu. Or Erehwon. No, that's not true; there are signs for Xanadu. OK, library sections. Whatever.
The only sign I had that I might be approaching the place was the sudden appearance of a line of thirty cars in front of me. All driving an annoying though understandable 10 MPH below the 55 speed limit, because there are no actual SIGNS saying "Cache Creek, actually on this shitty little road, only 3 more boring miles". When we get about a mile away I see peeking over the trees a horde of floodlights on poles. It's either the casino, a military base, or the secret rendezvous for the ships from "Close Encounters". Any one will do at this point.
Nevertheless I got there on time, driving from Vacaville where I got a room for $54.00 versus the $345.00 for Cache Creek. Now you know how they pay the staff....
OK, so valet parking when I get there. I have no time to waste in their parking garage, as I am there to see Greg Proops, Ryan Stiles, Jefferson Bryant Davis and Chip Esten in their "Whose Live Anyway" show at 8PM, and it's 7:15 thanks to the slomobiles. I have my email from their Guest Services manager, and this saves the day; when I walk up the clerk at the counter says "Ummm, who said you had a ticket sir?" Seems there is no ticket there under my name. "Your boss. Here is the email she sent." Whooops! She blanched. 5 minutes later her boss is there. Read the email, looked at the clerk, and then escorted me to a very nice seat in the front section. All better now. Turned out the boss was to blame; left the ticket on her desk. Ooops!
Greg spotted me at the bar; yes, the bar that lives in the middle of the theatre. Rockin! 3 minutes to get a drink (comped by Guest Services). Greg and I chatted for a bit, and I got some of the attention celebs get, when two people ran up after he left. "Whoa, dude, who are you? He just came over and TALKED to you!" "Umm, I've known him since high school." "Whoa! Can you get us backstage!" Sigh. "Sure. In fact, we can go up to his room and party later. Wait outside after the show by the Penny Slots. I'll come get you." OK, that's one more turn on the karma wheel for me, but so what. Right now it's a merry-go-round anyway; what's one more revolution?
The show is awesome. These four have a decided chemistry that's better than the Improv All-Stars. Don't know if part of that is that there are just the four, or if they simply are more in tune with each other. Immaterial. They leave people wiping their eyes. Greg opened with a short bit of standup, and the audience was ready to have fun in seconds. "Welcome to Cache Creeks Star Trek room..." and he was off. They started with "Tag", and Greg left Jeff in downward facing dog for minutes. No mercy.
Some gems; in "Jeopardy" they asked for a foreign term, and some one screwed up Fellatio. It winds up as Fellato, and they won't let that go. Chip buzzes in with "What goes after fish?" Ryan:"You mean BEFORE fish?" "Ummm yea, fellat-o fish..." Third time Chip messed up a sequence, and Ryan suggested that maybe if he turned around...... Greg and Jeff have to turn away to stop laughing. The "Greatest Hits ..." songs of the whatever ad bit was Ryan and Greg, and Greg pulled two nasty titles that I have now forgotten. Oh well. The first was a Country Western tune, and Jeff and Chip recovered and did a Grammy winning round for the finish. Then Ryan and Greg gave them an 80's tune, and Jeff and Chip pulled off a brilliant Depeche Mode/Tears For Fears/Duran Duran single that could have made the charts. Well, except for the obvious mockery of Depeche Mode angst, which had me gasping for breath.
They were called back for an encore, and probably could have gotten two more. Jeff and Ryan came out first after the show, and invited me to join them at the C2 restaurant for a late dinner. OK, now I am in fan heaven. The restaurant closes at 11 PM, and it's...11 PM. So what. These are stars, and the staff are all over us. "Whose the bald fat guy?" "An agent?" "Too hairy." "Bodyguard?" "Too short." They served us a brilliant meal, and damn if the food isn't almost worth the drive. No, that's bullshit. It's worth at least 4 extra miles of driving. Plus the menus are actually "white paper" screens with text. They weigh about two pounds. Naturally we all take turns screwing around with them. Jeff is tanning with his. The waitress (excuse me, the Server, Jessica...) apologized that they had no more Halibut to use for the crab-crusted Halibut; can they substitute.... "Wombat? You have Wombat? That will work fine.." She laughed and trotted off, came back to tell Ryan and I that they were out of that also. "Will Spotted Owl be alright?" The dinner was off to a great start.
Finally it's time to bail. They all have to drive back to SF at 8 AM to catch a plane to the next gig. I hung out at the casino for another hour, and won enough on a slot one pull after playing off the house starter bonus to pay for my gas. Good enough. Cashed out my huge winnings of $45.75 and got my car from valet. It's free. This works. And only 10 added miles on the odometer. No biggie.
Now driving back, several things occurred to me. 1) I'm in rural California. Believe me, the hick factor is just as high as rural Montana. 2) It's a Saturday night at 1:45 AM. OK, Sunday morning. Get your own blog. 3) I am driving away from the only open business within 24 miles either way, and they serve free drinks to gamblers. Hmmmmm. Oh yeah, 4) Highway 16 is a barely two lane winding country road, and there are several surprise 35 zones and even a 25 zone. You guessed it; 50 feet past the first 35 sign was a local cop, lights off and engine running. Hiding behind a hedge. Sadly, the hedge was three feet long and maybe 18" high: The cop car was bigger, even though there was a clown at the wheel. I drove by (with several other cars about) at a polite 37. There is also one at the next slow-down, and another cop at the third. This one could have been a problem. I had trouble keeping the car going straight, because he was hiding behind a fruit stand sign that read:
"Watre"
"Persemins"
"Mandarine Ornges"
Oh gods, I wish I had stopped and taken a picture..... its hard to drive and wipe away tears and look casual all at once... The final dorky cop was rolling along at roughly 5 MPH around the last turn where the speed goes from 35 to 25 to 55 in, like, a half mile. No lights, just rolling along on the shoulder. Oaf. I down shifted just before I hit the 55 sign. Wheeeeee! I think he was still processing nerve signals when I got on 505 a few minutes later. In spite of the drive, the mistake at the box office, and the stakeout boys, if they perform there again I'm going. The casino isn't bad either. An odd mix of modern casino and local, ahem, "character". Think the people from Reno transplanted to Vegas. Or, you know, chimps with X-Boxes....
The best part of these shows is that I have an incredible time, laugh uproariously, and come away feeling completely sated. The sad part is that there is so much brilliant stuff going on, by the time I leave I have forgotten half of it. Well, or I could just be senile.
The only sign I had that I might be approaching the place was the sudden appearance of a line of thirty cars in front of me. All driving an annoying though understandable 10 MPH below the 55 speed limit, because there are no actual SIGNS saying "Cache Creek, actually on this shitty little road, only 3 more boring miles". When we get about a mile away I see peeking over the trees a horde of floodlights on poles. It's either the casino, a military base, or the secret rendezvous for the ships from "Close Encounters". Any one will do at this point.
Nevertheless I got there on time, driving from Vacaville where I got a room for $54.00 versus the $345.00 for Cache Creek. Now you know how they pay the staff....
OK, so valet parking when I get there. I have no time to waste in their parking garage, as I am there to see Greg Proops, Ryan Stiles, Jefferson Bryant Davis and Chip Esten in their "Whose Live Anyway" show at 8PM, and it's 7:15 thanks to the slomobiles. I have my email from their Guest Services manager, and this saves the day; when I walk up the clerk at the counter says "Ummm, who said you had a ticket sir?" Seems there is no ticket there under my name. "Your boss. Here is the email she sent." Whooops! She blanched. 5 minutes later her boss is there. Read the email, looked at the clerk, and then escorted me to a very nice seat in the front section. All better now. Turned out the boss was to blame; left the ticket on her desk. Ooops!
Greg spotted me at the bar; yes, the bar that lives in the middle of the theatre. Rockin! 3 minutes to get a drink (comped by Guest Services). Greg and I chatted for a bit, and I got some of the attention celebs get, when two people ran up after he left. "Whoa, dude, who are you? He just came over and TALKED to you!" "Umm, I've known him since high school." "Whoa! Can you get us backstage!" Sigh. "Sure. In fact, we can go up to his room and party later. Wait outside after the show by the Penny Slots. I'll come get you." OK, that's one more turn on the karma wheel for me, but so what. Right now it's a merry-go-round anyway; what's one more revolution?
The show is awesome. These four have a decided chemistry that's better than the Improv All-Stars. Don't know if part of that is that there are just the four, or if they simply are more in tune with each other. Immaterial. They leave people wiping their eyes. Greg opened with a short bit of standup, and the audience was ready to have fun in seconds. "Welcome to Cache Creeks Star Trek room..." and he was off. They started with "Tag", and Greg left Jeff in downward facing dog for minutes. No mercy.
Some gems; in "Jeopardy" they asked for a foreign term, and some one screwed up Fellatio. It winds up as Fellato, and they won't let that go. Chip buzzes in with "What goes after fish?" Ryan:"You mean BEFORE fish?" "Ummm yea, fellat-o fish..." Third time Chip messed up a sequence, and Ryan suggested that maybe if he turned around...... Greg and Jeff have to turn away to stop laughing. The "Greatest Hits ..." songs of the whatever ad bit was Ryan and Greg, and Greg pulled two nasty titles that I have now forgotten. Oh well. The first was a Country Western tune, and Jeff and Chip recovered and did a Grammy winning round for the finish. Then Ryan and Greg gave them an 80's tune, and Jeff and Chip pulled off a brilliant Depeche Mode/Tears For Fears/Duran Duran single that could have made the charts. Well, except for the obvious mockery of Depeche Mode angst, which had me gasping for breath.
They were called back for an encore, and probably could have gotten two more. Jeff and Ryan came out first after the show, and invited me to join them at the C2 restaurant for a late dinner. OK, now I am in fan heaven. The restaurant closes at 11 PM, and it's...11 PM. So what. These are stars, and the staff are all over us. "Whose the bald fat guy?" "An agent?" "Too hairy." "Bodyguard?" "Too short." They served us a brilliant meal, and damn if the food isn't almost worth the drive. No, that's bullshit. It's worth at least 4 extra miles of driving. Plus the menus are actually "white paper" screens with text. They weigh about two pounds. Naturally we all take turns screwing around with them. Jeff is tanning with his. The waitress (excuse me, the Server, Jessica...) apologized that they had no more Halibut to use for the crab-crusted Halibut; can they substitute.... "Wombat? You have Wombat? That will work fine.." She laughed and trotted off, came back to tell Ryan and I that they were out of that also. "Will Spotted Owl be alright?" The dinner was off to a great start.
Finally it's time to bail. They all have to drive back to SF at 8 AM to catch a plane to the next gig. I hung out at the casino for another hour, and won enough on a slot one pull after playing off the house starter bonus to pay for my gas. Good enough. Cashed out my huge winnings of $45.75 and got my car from valet. It's free. This works. And only 10 added miles on the odometer. No biggie.
Now driving back, several things occurred to me. 1) I'm in rural California. Believe me, the hick factor is just as high as rural Montana. 2) It's a Saturday night at 1:45 AM. OK, Sunday morning. Get your own blog. 3) I am driving away from the only open business within 24 miles either way, and they serve free drinks to gamblers. Hmmmmm. Oh yeah, 4) Highway 16 is a barely two lane winding country road, and there are several surprise 35 zones and even a 25 zone. You guessed it; 50 feet past the first 35 sign was a local cop, lights off and engine running. Hiding behind a hedge. Sadly, the hedge was three feet long and maybe 18" high: The cop car was bigger, even though there was a clown at the wheel. I drove by (with several other cars about) at a polite 37. There is also one at the next slow-down, and another cop at the third. This one could have been a problem. I had trouble keeping the car going straight, because he was hiding behind a fruit stand sign that read:
"Watre"
"Persemins"
"Mandarine Ornges"
Oh gods, I wish I had stopped and taken a picture..... its hard to drive and wipe away tears and look casual all at once... The final dorky cop was rolling along at roughly 5 MPH around the last turn where the speed goes from 35 to 25 to 55 in, like, a half mile. No lights, just rolling along on the shoulder. Oaf. I down shifted just before I hit the 55 sign. Wheeeeee! I think he was still processing nerve signals when I got on 505 a few minutes later. In spite of the drive, the mistake at the box office, and the stakeout boys, if they perform there again I'm going. The casino isn't bad either. An odd mix of modern casino and local, ahem, "character". Think the people from Reno transplanted to Vegas. Or, you know, chimps with X-Boxes....
The best part of these shows is that I have an incredible time, laugh uproariously, and come away feeling completely sated. The sad part is that there is so much brilliant stuff going on, by the time I leave I have forgotten half of it. Well, or I could just be senile.
Sunday, August 9, 2009
Jonas Brothers. Yep. Disney at it's monolithic titanic overproduced best. I will say this; those boys can sing stupid pop crap bubble music like no ones business. Well, except for the Disney marketing business.
Once again subjected to the contact-etching shrill screams of 10,000 16 year old girls. Got a laugh from one of the female stagehands when I started wiping my arms and muttering "estrogen, Christ I'm covered in estrogen..."
Advantage to working these shows; 90 percent of the audience are women under 19. No beer or (yechhhh) to step over/around or, sadly, once in a while, in. Very few nachos, unlike WWE.
However, these idiots had a WATER CURTAIN! Yep, that's right, untold gallons of questionably clean water raining down.... around millions of dollars of sound, lighting, video and hydraulic staging. Well what do I care, it's not MY stuff that will get blowed up.
On a positive note, we had 112 local hands to do the load-out, and a road crew who knew what to do when, and where to move it. I was fortunate enough to get the "Pusher" job, which meant for the most part I just walked back and forth from loading dock to arena floor, grabbed the next road box ready to go away, and pushed it to the dock. No coiling of 10,000 feet of 4-0 cable, no handling stuff that got dragged on the floor, no lifting endless small but heavy stage sections, or barricades, or audio.... whooo hoooo! In at 10 PM, show ends right on time at 10:30 PM, and at 1:30 AM we are pushing the last stacks of lighting truss into the trucks, and saying farewell.
My yardstick of talent still stands; Eric Clapton, 8 trucks. Jonas Brothers, 22 trucks. When you have real talent, you don't need a water curtain.
Oh, but they did have Jordin Sparks! Talented as hell, very sweet, and OMG she lost 25 pounds on this tour, and looks HOT!
Tiny Korean girls (Wonder Girls?). Never heard of them before. Very cute actually, no idea if they have talent as I was not there while they were on. Did stop two from walking off the edge of the dock instead of the (admittedly narrow and hard to see) staircase. Since they were not texting while walking I felt obligated. Had they been texting however... hmmmm... tough choice. Save pretty women, or help Darwin?
Last week while stopped at a light I looked over at the driver next to me, frowned and shook my head. He looked at me and said "What?" "You are not supposed to talk on a cell while driving, which includes sitting at a red light" "Dude, this isn't a cell phone! It's an i-Phone!" So, I killed him and stuck him in his trunk..... told him it wasn't a 9mm, it was an i-Gun....
Once again subjected to the contact-etching shrill screams of 10,000 16 year old girls. Got a laugh from one of the female stagehands when I started wiping my arms and muttering "estrogen, Christ I'm covered in estrogen..."
Advantage to working these shows; 90 percent of the audience are women under 19. No beer or (yechhhh) to step over/around or, sadly, once in a while, in. Very few nachos, unlike WWE.
However, these idiots had a WATER CURTAIN! Yep, that's right, untold gallons of questionably clean water raining down.... around millions of dollars of sound, lighting, video and hydraulic staging. Well what do I care, it's not MY stuff that will get blowed up.
On a positive note, we had 112 local hands to do the load-out, and a road crew who knew what to do when, and where to move it. I was fortunate enough to get the "Pusher" job, which meant for the most part I just walked back and forth from loading dock to arena floor, grabbed the next road box ready to go away, and pushed it to the dock. No coiling of 10,000 feet of 4-0 cable, no handling stuff that got dragged on the floor, no lifting endless small but heavy stage sections, or barricades, or audio.... whooo hoooo! In at 10 PM, show ends right on time at 10:30 PM, and at 1:30 AM we are pushing the last stacks of lighting truss into the trucks, and saying farewell.
My yardstick of talent still stands; Eric Clapton, 8 trucks. Jonas Brothers, 22 trucks. When you have real talent, you don't need a water curtain.
Oh, but they did have Jordin Sparks! Talented as hell, very sweet, and OMG she lost 25 pounds on this tour, and looks HOT!
Tiny Korean girls (Wonder Girls?). Never heard of them before. Very cute actually, no idea if they have talent as I was not there while they were on. Did stop two from walking off the edge of the dock instead of the (admittedly narrow and hard to see) staircase. Since they were not texting while walking I felt obligated. Had they been texting however... hmmmm... tough choice. Save pretty women, or help Darwin?
Last week while stopped at a light I looked over at the driver next to me, frowned and shook my head. He looked at me and said "What?" "You are not supposed to talk on a cell while driving, which includes sitting at a red light" "Dude, this isn't a cell phone! It's an i-Phone!" So, I killed him and stuck him in his trunk..... told him it wasn't a 9mm, it was an i-Gun....
Sunday, July 12, 2009
It's 2:15 AM on Sunday morning; I have just gotten home from the Mayhem Festival at Shoreline. Metal festival, for those of you who wondered. Or, like, care.
Of the main-stage bands, Slayer and Bullet for my Valentine had the prettiest followers. Trivium had the ones with the best figures. Killswitch Engage and Cannibal Corpse were tied for shortest shirts/skirts and tightest jeans.
Marilyn Manson was the headliner. He gets the following awards:
Best figures and tightest clothing on ridden hard and put away wet skinny camp followers.
Latest entrance.
Largest amount of fog to no purpose because you are not on stage and the curtain is still up.
Ruining "Bella Lugosi's Dead" changeover cover music because some idiot keeps testing mics. Because you are late.
Leaving after a 40 minute set, apparently in an attempt to start a riot.
What the .... for having kitty litter delivered to your dressing room.
Yep. Kitty litter. 10 pounds of it at least, and a large pan. Supposedly this was because Mr Originality (my favorite Alice Cooper quote, when asked what he thought of Marilyn Manson: "Girls name for a band, lots of makeup and ripped clothes. Gee, I wish I had thought of that...")
sorry Marilyn, lots of bands say "fuck"... anyway, he does not like other people using the bathroom in his dressing room, and if he thinks they have he uses the pan. Right. Ummm, it's your dressing room stoopid. The only people using your toilet would be
A) You.
B) Someone you let use your toilet.
Admittedly, I guess if I was Marilyn Manson and I used the toilet I would not want to use the toilet..... I'm not sure, but I think this rivals Prince's Production Manager declaring that he had seen two flies in Purpleboys dressing room, and that they must be killed and removed or his Royal Weirdness would not perform. Actually, I suspect it's just one of those hype stunts. "OK, add a rider to my contract requiring cat litter and a pan; maybe that will draw more fans..." I'm betting that at home he gardens and drinks herbal tea, and watches "The View" with his wife...
Marilyn seems to have gotten very upset over fans not liking him as much. Gosh, I wonder if that is because he arrives late and leaves early?
I was thinking of having a T-Shirt printed that said "I work in Rock and Roll; what dull job do you do?" but now I think I should print one that says "I work in Rock and Roll: My employers are way stranger than yours..."
maybe I'll print both....
Of the main-stage bands, Slayer and Bullet for my Valentine had the prettiest followers. Trivium had the ones with the best figures. Killswitch Engage and Cannibal Corpse were tied for shortest shirts/skirts and tightest jeans.
Marilyn Manson was the headliner. He gets the following awards:
Best figures and tightest clothing on ridden hard and put away wet skinny camp followers.
Latest entrance.
Largest amount of fog to no purpose because you are not on stage and the curtain is still up.
Ruining "Bella Lugosi's Dead" changeover cover music because some idiot keeps testing mics. Because you are late.
Leaving after a 40 minute set, apparently in an attempt to start a riot.
What the .... for having kitty litter delivered to your dressing room.
Yep. Kitty litter. 10 pounds of it at least, and a large pan. Supposedly this was because Mr Originality (my favorite Alice Cooper quote, when asked what he thought of Marilyn Manson: "Girls name for a band, lots of makeup and ripped clothes. Gee, I wish I had thought of that...")
sorry Marilyn, lots of bands say "fuck"... anyway, he does not like other people using the bathroom in his dressing room, and if he thinks they have he uses the pan. Right. Ummm, it's your dressing room stoopid. The only people using your toilet would be
A) You.
B) Someone you let use your toilet.
Admittedly, I guess if I was Marilyn Manson and I used the toilet I would not want to use the toilet..... I'm not sure, but I think this rivals Prince's Production Manager declaring that he had seen two flies in Purpleboys dressing room, and that they must be killed and removed or his Royal Weirdness would not perform. Actually, I suspect it's just one of those hype stunts. "OK, add a rider to my contract requiring cat litter and a pan; maybe that will draw more fans..." I'm betting that at home he gardens and drinks herbal tea, and watches "The View" with his wife...
Marilyn seems to have gotten very upset over fans not liking him as much. Gosh, I wonder if that is because he arrives late and leaves early?
I was thinking of having a T-Shirt printed that said "I work in Rock and Roll; what dull job do you do?" but now I think I should print one that says "I work in Rock and Roll: My employers are way stranger than yours..."
maybe I'll print both....
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