Loading ...Brian’s Locker
- While shooting pool at a friend’s house yesterday, I got a chance to see Eidos’ new soon-to-be franchised Batman: Arkham Asylum.
Lara Croft and Batman would make a kick ass couple, wouldn't they?
Because my video game console buying days ended with the PS2, I’m constantly reminded, by games like this, that’s it’s time to update my gaming gear. Though I only watched the ten minute intro to the game, during which Batman is escorting a newly captured Joker back to Arkham, the graphics were frighteningly realistic, the game play seemed sharp, and the storyline was predictably spot on. Admittedly far from a comic book junkie, I think it’s pretty clear that Batman is by far the coolest hero in the genre, and with Tomb Raider creator Eidos now in bed with the Dark Knight, fans should expect a bevy of sequels, each better than its predecessor.
- How cool is it that the World Series of Poker brass has all but erased 2006 Main Event Champ Jamie Gold from its collective memory? Revisionist history is rarely lauded but, in this case, the WSOP needs to be commended for such a decision. Though it is ironic that a gambling activity would balk at indiscretions meant to harm the integrity of the event, Gold’s shady business dealings before, during and after the Main Event left a black eye many believe will never heal. Not only did he renege on a deal with business partner Crispin Leyser, which entitled Leyser to half of Gold’s 12 million dollar winnings, but his arrogance at the table spit in the face of all unwritten rules of decency among poker players. Routinely showing cards during hands, talking, ad nauseum, during hands, or analyzing opponents’ play during hands were all part of Gold’s slimy persona. Thankfully, though minimally visible in the poker world since 2006, Gold hasn’t found his way back to a final table worth mentioning. Somewhere, Doyle Brunson is smiling.
- I’m starting to develop a rather odd distaste for two disturbing trends in hats. Coming from someone who wore hats more often than not until I was about 22, at which point a career was staring at me and shaking its head at the thought of having to see me sans headwear, I have to take issue with both the growing popularity of completely unbent brims and of off-color team hats.
What would Jackie Robinson think?
The first, usually coupled with the manufacturer’s sticker on the inside or on top of the brim, is a bit more palatable simply because I understand the hip hop culture brought such a style to the mainstream and kids emulate whatever is considered cool at the time. The second, however, I just don’t understand. All red Yanks’ hats? Solid white Dodgers’ caps? All black (insert team here)? To me, the purpose of wearing any form of athletic regalia is to celebrate your fandom of a team as they appear on the field, court, ice, etc. I suppose athletic gear has finagled its way into mainstream fashion, so a solid pink Chicago White Sox cap would become necessary as a complement to something else in the wearer’s ensemble, but I’ll stick to wearing the actual colors of my favorite teams.
- As a tattoo enthusiast, and not the only one on this site, I never balk when I see the latest reliever, Hollywood starlet, or junior high kid boasting some fresh ink. When I made the decision to get my tattoos, at 18 and 19 years old respectively, I knew it was something I was doing for my own sense of edification or individuality, something most people that age desperately seek in some way or another. I never considered putting my ink on a plain sight area of my body because, ultimately, I really didn’t care if other people saw my tats or not. They weren’t meant as conversation pieces, ways to pick up girls, or as an invitation to a discussion about my “personal journey.” Still, tattoo placement says an awful lot about its wearer, so I have to wonder why people tat their necks.
So, Mr. Jones, tell us more about the giant number 18 on your neck. Don't call us. We'll call you.
Whether fair or not, the sight of a neck tattoo is going to garner some pretty negative feedback, and I understand that (a) that’s the point or (b) such a decision is not made with other people’s opinions in mind but at some point, the neck tattoo has to become an albatross, right? Job opportunities, opposite sex (or same sex) attraction, and future wardrobe decisions are all pretty much made for you when you decide to ink your neck. And that’s cool if you’ve already made peace with that when you sit in the artist’s chair, but something tells me a majority of those sporting evil dragons climbing up their ribcages and peeking out from underneath a t-shirt are eventually going to say, “uh, my bad.”
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Plenty to discuss in this week’s locker, so let’s dive right in…
Like every living and breathing male in the country, I love HBO’s Entourage. Devotees of the show have watched quite a progression, both fictionally and in reality, for the boys from Queens. Clearly, Mark Wahlberg has lived a charmed life, but I don’t think anyone needed Johnny Drama to help prove that. His loyalty to his roots back East, to his boys, and to his family are certainly well-documented through the show’s quartet of sycophants (after all, each does need the others for something), but the true all-star of the bunch is without question Jeremy Piven. As a fan of his since his turn as seventh year sophomore, “Droz” Andrews in PCU, I can’t say I’m surprised at his rather meteoric rise to three straight Emmy wins as uberagent, Ari Gold.
Okay, enough of the love fest. Here’s my major problem with Entourage. There’s no way, under any circumstance, with any amount of alcohol or money, a girl like Emmanuelle Chriqui’s, Sloan, would ever consider any relationship with Kevin Connolly’s, E. Not only do I find E’s walking proof of the Napoleon Complex annoying and forced but when he is asked to take off his shirt to expose his Woody Woodpecker tattoo (or whatever that is) covered by copious amounts of red, patchy chest hair on his prepubescent chest, I stew. Chriqui is one of the hottest actresses on screen right now, so even in a scripted way, I can’t accept this bizarre union.
Napoleons need not apply.
I heard yet another of comedian/impersonator Joe Conklin’s completely unfunny send-ups of a popular song this week. This time it was a mockdaptation of “Sweet Caroline” based on Big Papi’s quasi steroid use mess. Conklin is firmly entrenched in the Philly sports and pop culture scene, and he even appeared at my high school last spring as part of a scholarship foundation fundraiser. Thankfully, I was in Cooperstown, so I missed the hilarity. Here’s the point. Once you’ve heard these guys once (you listening, Frank Caliendo?), you can basically bag it. I understand that Conklin can change voices faster than Brad Lidge can blow a save, but if what he’s saying while using one of his impersonations isn’t funny then what am I listening for? What’s worse is listening to 610 WIP morning show buffoon, Angelo Cataldi, spit all over himself every time Conklin launches into his Andy Reid, his Bill Campbell, or his Allen Iverson. I just have no patience for unfunny people getting paid to be funny.***
I know it’s a bit removed, but did anyone notice the foul ball fetchers on the Phils’ last west coast trip? Far be it from me to suggest marketing ideas for the Giants and D-Backs, but replacing the geriatric foul line patrollers with attractive, athletic college girls, like we have here in Philly, might help boost attendance just a tad. What kind of charity and community events do the ballmen/women attend? Is there a pinochle mafia on the west coast that holds monthly charity events at which these folks need to appear? Are there raging pub crawls between the hours of 1-4 pm (gotta get home for the Early Bird special at Denny’s) that are run by these octogenarians? Maybe we’re just spoiled because of our ball girls or because the almostathletes are proud to know a ballgirl of our own, Sam Arnone, who doesn’t need a walker to flag down a Jayson Werth seed down the left field line.
Phils' ball girl and Audubon High grad, Sam Arnone.
And, no, I’m not even going to address the Michael Vick signing. The athletes will be running a Mound Visit on Monday to discuss the farce that is the Eagles. Stay tuned.
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Almost reader Glyn R. wrote in to ask if I could comment on what has become a tired, uninspired tradition in sports—the wave. Now, usually at this point in my piece I would admit to, at one time, being a proponent of that which I mock, but I can’t do it here. I never understood the wave, particularly when idiotic fans participate in one during the defensive half of their home team’s inning, found myself excited about being asked to start or continue a wave, or allowed myself to giggle raucously during any rendition of the wave. Ironically, the origin of the wave is widely disputed, largely because, after realizing what a joke it is, no one really wants to take credit for it. Glyn R. got me thinking about other nuances nuisances of sports that need to be addressed.
10. Tony Siragusa—Still waiting on an explanation from the NFL.
Hey, guys, Goose here. I'm still fat. Back to you.
9. Kiss Cam—Hey, look! The cameraman focused on two guys/girls! Now, that’s funny.
8. Generic sideline reporting—Coach, you have less points than your opponent. What are you going to do to change that in the second half?
7. Drunken high school/college kids—Look, I like a good time as much as the next hormonally driven college freshman, but if these kids are looking to get hammered just to say they did so at a Phils’ game, why not just do it at home and lie about it so I can enjoy myself? Man, I’m getting old.
6. Hockey interviews—…………………………….., thanks, coach.
5. Extended-syllable version of the National Anthem—There’s nothing unpatriotic about complaining about various renditions of our nation’s anthem. For instance, the word “glare” is one syllable and should not be pronounced “guh-luh-hair.”
4. The NBA—That’s it. The league stinks, and I’m tired of it.
3. Corporate America posing as sports fans— In my experience, this is a hockey phenomenon. Though I was never interested in hedge funds, I am now well-versed in them because of the hammer who sits behind me and my friend Mark at Flyers’ games.
2. NFL nepotism—Honestly, I understand the league taking care of its own by overcrowding pre and post game studios with seven different former players and coaches, but there has to be a limit. Moreover, I’d like to audition just to see the process involved for hiring Emmitt Smith.
1. Cell phone wavers—This is by far the most egregious violation in fandom. Now, I could see if this were 1997 and Zach Morris, army-style cell phones were just making their way into the mainstream so there was a measure of prestige involved, but everyone has a cell phone and television nowadays. I’ve seen myself on television twice and neither time did I wave, for several innings, at my awestruck family or contort myself into Facebookish poses while Raul Ibanez was about to go yard.
We see you. And we hate you.
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Is anyone else as freaked out by ‘Maggie’ the red-headed freak show from the Chevy commericals‘ with the NFL’s greatest sell out, Howie Long? Anyone? Bueller?
Suffice it to say that I’d be more comfortable with the following children as my own: Samara Morgan from The Ring, Carrie White from Carrie, any child spawned by Zelda Rubinstein or Anne Ramsey, any child spawned by a Branch Davidian or Church of Latter Day Saints member or Hayley Stark from Hard Candy (trust me on this one, guys. If you haven’t seen it, be very careful with this film.)
Not only does this little girl scream, My parent(s) are failed actors desperately trying to live through me while I vie, unsuccessfully, for their affection by parading myself around at the tender age of 5 in car commercials with former NFL players, but at the :16 second mark she points directly at Long’s junk, which in itself is a double entendre, before exclaiming that she’s a “big girl.” Wrong on so many levels.
Sweetie, be a dear and pay 'Maggie' a visit, please.
Anyone, particularly men, who can’t admit that they’ve forgiven Justin Timberlake for that little boy band experiment is just lying. The fact is this guy is not only living the dream with just about every starlet who “gets off the bus out in to the city streets” (c’mon Poison fans!) but he and Andy Samberg have teamed up on no less than three hilarious SNL Digital Shorts (“Dick In a Box,” “Jizz in my Pants,” and “Motherlover”), which have done nothing short of shedding Timberlake’s former boy band persona while simultaneously returning his testosterone to a suitable level. And if those same dudes tell you they wouldn’t want to hang out with JT (for the stories alone—Brit, Cameron, Jessica, et al) because he was in ‘NSYNC, well they need to reserve themselves a table at their local watering hole under the name, “Bitter.”
Step 1. Cut a hole in a box. Step 2....
I recently saw a clip from Bonnaroo of that popular fortysomething band The Beastie Boys and I had my first ‘Nam-like college flashback. There wasn’t a party I went to from 1995-1998 that didn’t include some smattering of “hits” from this horrendous band. Every time “Girls” or “Brass Monkey” came on, at whatever hammer-infested frat house I was in, I’d roll my eyes, sip from my lukewarm Milwaukee’s Best (what’s Milwaukee’s worst, by the way? Can’t be that much different), and mouthed along to the lyrics because all the neophytes (read: freshman girls) were doing the same.
Now, some eleven years after my otherwise glorious college experience, I hear those songs or see those silly, silver-haired strappers running around on stage and I get flashbacks like Irving “Jizz” Waltham in Outside Providence.
So what'cha want? An explanation of why these guys are popular.
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- When my wife called me the other day, I had to cut the conversation short (which is no small feat) because Sydney White
If Snow White looked like this, I'm not sure the dwarfs would stand a chance.
was on HBO. Even though this particular viewing was roughly my 1,287th since it started airing on cable, I have no time for chit chat when a modern take on Snow White and the Seven Dwarfs is so accessible. I have to admit that it’s not my affinity for the ageless fairytale that glues me to my chaise lounger; instead, it’s the presence of countless college coeds running around in skimpy outfits while trying to outwit each other in a pathetic popularity contest. White was my first experience with Amanda Bynes, who was dangerously close to becoming my pick for “Almost Hot” last week, and while I’m not sold on her acting ability or her appearance, there’s something to this actress and to this film that catapults into the “cannot-turn-off-under-any-circumstances” category usually reserved for more relevant and, frankly, clothed films like The Shawshank Redemption and Heat.
- While the latest installments of the Batman franchise (Batman Begins and The Dark Knight) are praiseworthy in themselves, Christian Bale and Heath Ledger are not the only two reasons for their success. Continuing to be an also-ran in Oscar voting and media coverage is the franchise’s brilliant director, Christopher Nolan.
While Bale and Nolan have teamed up three times, it's about time for the latter to get some love from critics.
Fans of Nolan are no doubt wholly aware of his precision as the man behind the camera, but most moviegoers are sadly unaware of Nolan’s impressive resume. Take, for instance, his hypnotic take on his brother Jonathan’s short story “Memento Mori” entitled Memento, in which the narrative is told in reverse and with a splotching of black and white scenes mixed throughout the otherwise color film. Or 2006’s The Prestige, featuring Bale-before-Batman as one half of England’s greatest magic act (along with an always underwhelming Hugh Jackman), which includes a now signature Nolan twist few will see coming. 2002’s Insomnia, with Robin Williams as a convincingly coy villain to Al Pacino’s sleep-starved and conscious-plagued cop, didn’t garner the kind of critical acclaim Nolan deserved but it did pave the way for the aforementioned films. True Nolan aficionados will appreciate 1998’s black and white thriller Following, which plays on the audience’s psyche as much as it does his main character’s. Hopefully, members of the Academy will begin to take note of Nolan who should be considered in the same breath with today’s finest directors.
- Is there a better video game series than Resident Evil?
As franchises go, RE has little competition.
Now, I’m a proud owner of several Tomb Raider installments, at least those still compatible with the PS2, which is as high as my video game console ceiling reaches, but if I had to choose between the two gaming juggernauts, I’d go with RE. Because my summer work is confined to the evenings, I have plenty of time to kill zombies, protect the president’s daughter, and solve mind numbing puzzles (alright, by that I mean use the walkthrough). When school ended this June, I wasted no time in picking up a used copy of RE4, a game which I’d already played years prior, and began playing it during my dog days of summer. The action is intense, the story is developed and well-fashioned, the cut scenes rival those in any other shoot-‘em-up game, and I’m always a little bummed when I finish each one. One day I will graduate to at least the PS3, assuming that by the time I do so, Playstation will have unfurled its 9th system from the cellophane, and when I do, I’m going right back to the wacky misadventures of the undead and biologically manipulated inhabitants of Raccoon City.
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- No one is happier that Zach Galifianakis finally made the jump from obscure comedian to mainstream movie star than me. I remember watching this guy’s stand up (though it was more of a sit down/dance recital) on Comedy Central and telling anyone who would listen to watch for this guy in the near future. And while he has been in films (Into the Wild, Out Cold) and television (Reno 911, Dog Bites Man), he has always been cast in the bit part. Though throngs of giddy women are fawning over Bradley Cooper (they may not recall his work in Wet Hot American Summer), Galifianakis makes The Hangover that much better with his now trademark blank stare beneath a wooly beard. In a time when it seems like comedy has turned to hacks like Carlos Mencia and Dane Cook, Galifianakis provides the rest of us with a viable, hysterical alternative.Comedy Central Presents–Zach Galifianakis
- Speaking of off the beaten track comedians, kudos to Comedy Central for bringing back two of my all time favorites—Michael Ian Black and Michael Showalter. Fans of Black will remember him from his turn on the uber popular Ed and more recently from Reaper. Showalter has flown considerably lower under the radar with supporting roles in several television shows and films. He did write, direct and star in 2005’s The Baxter, which did little to add to his celebrity. In their new, creatively named vehicle, Michael and Michael Have Issues, the two former The State and Stella troupe members will no doubt revisit their past brilliance. Much like Galifianakis, these guys have prided themselves on a bizarre, Kids in the Hall kind of humor that turns away those unwilling to give them the benefit of the doubt. Check out The Michael Showalter Showalter to prepare yourself for ‘Issues.’Showalter interveiws Ian Black .
- I have a confession to make—I almost became part of that tweener generation unwilling to give new music a shot while I wallow in my cobweb infested Itunes library full of music from ‘my time.’ Enter my buddy Zooz. Almost like a Music Anonymous sponsor, Zooz stepp
ed in and refused to allow me to give up. He reminded me of my 12-steps to recovery, insisted I recite my necessary mantra (There’s more than Radiohead…There’s more than Pearl Jam…There’s more than Dave…etc.), and presented me with three bands who are responsible for keeping me firmly in the land of the musically enlightened—Blue October, The Airborne Toxic Event, and Silversun Pickups. - Now, I can wake up each morning, look myself in the mirror, and participate in relevant conversations about the new age of music. If I’ve not yet made amends with all of you, rest assured. Step 8 is right around the corner for me.
- I’m begging someone to explain a disturbingly popular trend among American boys between the ages of 4-14—the Mohawk. Now, if Mr. T were still jingling around the streets with more faux gold than talent, I could understand that at least there was a quasi celebrity to which these kids aspire. But after working a baseball camp for kids in this exact age range last week, I’m left feeling equal parts pity and disgust. In my myopic perception, which I can only assume will grow exponentially when my daughter arrives in October, the parents of these kids enjoy treating their youngsters as dolls, as showpieces, as conve
rsation starters instead of as, well, kids. Now, if a generation of Travis Bickle wannabes is mixing in a little punk music with their daily dose of Spongebob on their own, then more power to them. But if mommy and daddy are still trying to get back at that straight-laced vice principal in high school by spitting in the face of conformity with their child’s Mohawk, then we need to make this a DYFS issue.
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- After I announced to my best friend, who served as my best man, that I’d be having a daughter, he wasted no time with this gem, “Congratulations, buddy. I hope I don’t see her on Rock of Love 30.” And so my parenthood begins.
- When the Philadelphia Flyers expressed an interest in journeyman and resident lunatic, Ray Emery, to fix their annual netminding problem, Comcast SportsNet cut to a shot of his stats both in the NHL and overseas. Like most kitschy program directors across the nation are wont to do, atop Emery’s face read “Emery Board.” My wife dropped the spoon that was on a collision course with her mouth and exclaimed, “SHUT UP! Somebody named this kid Emery Board?” Yep, I married this woman. On purpose.
- Though I used to be a devotee of all things Road Rules and Real World, I have to draw the line at the train wreck it has become. I remember looking forward to watching the real life issues dealt with by Heather B, Kevin, and, my personal favorite, Julie, among others on the first installment of The Real World. However, after watching yet another producer-induced, alcohol-fueled, CT snap out during the first thirty seconds of the latest “challenge,” I had to take personal inventory of my television show allegiances. Is there a more representative illustration of irresponsibility than what the producers of the show espouse? Whether they instruct CT to foam at the mouth, embrace his wickahd Boston accent, or spit beer all over his previously cancer-riddled girlfriend or if his routine is legitimately based on the clearly imbalanced psychoses of a troubled kid really doesn’t matter because either way he should not be allowed in public, much less on television.
- After the untimely passing of Philadelphia Phillies announcer, Harry Kalas, I was forced to sort of audition his successor, Tom McCarthy, in an attempt to decipher whether or not to allow this man into my home 162 times a year. After about a week of completely forced banter the likes of which would make Dave Letterman and Paul Schaffer blush, I bagged it. I will never understand why these guys can’t accept that people don’t tune into the broadcast to hear them. Baseball’s beauty comes in so many forms, but perhaps one of the most overlooked is its ability to be told without words. Sadly, a generation of Howard Stern fans who polish their communications degrees from Syracuse University daily, have been convinced that witty repartee, over analysis, and reverie about how they shared a cup of coffee with the Texas Rangers third base coach are all infinitely more entertaining than the silence broken by a sharply hit double to the gap.
- Has there been a less ceremonious series finale for an otherwise comedic staple for almost a decade than there was for Scrubs? During the finale, I texted my college roommate who would castrate himself to hang out with Braff and Faison for a real life 22 minute episode, and asked if this was actually the series finale. I don’t remember seeing any series montage commercials complete with tear jerking piano progressions, any Oprah daises replete with all the series regulars, or even any “exclusive-behind-the-scenes-peeks” at the cast’s last taping with a buffed up Mario Lopez in tow. Instead, the episode ended much the way it survived for eight years, under the radar.
I hate skull and dragon tats, but I do love my Flyers emblem on my lower back haha GO FLYERS! Oh and two thumbs up on Sydney White.
I’m glad to hear you give some props to Resident Evil – while it is a pretty heavy hitter franchise now, back when I was playing RE:Director’s Cut for PS1 as a young lad, I was telling my friends about it and they wouldn’t listen because it wasn’t hugely popular, I would go back and say “I told you so” to them, but the sales chart for Resident Evil 4 and 5 is enough.
Entourage is a great show on HBO. I have heard from random people that it is comparable to Sex in the City or whatever show that girls watch to make them feel good about themselves from the night before at the bar. Aside from all of that, Entourage is a great show, Nuff said.
Thank you for posting about the “wave” at ball games. It is just out of control. The best is when you see people attempt to do it at Phillies games when they are in the Standing Room Only sections. Seriously? Resident Evil is the best video game series in my opinion.
nice fandom list kul, don’t agree with all of it, for instance getting drunk at a Phillies game is still a very big ritual in my life. but hockey interviews was def. the best one, I’ve never gotten through an entire punch-drunk Canadian talking about who knows what.
The Wave should be banned. Cell Phone Wavers should be ejected. And yes, NBA is over, has been over for close to 5 years now. Its awful. Just watch NCAA, it’ll always be fun. Gangstas still have to watch NBA, because thats part of being “Pimp” in the Hip Hop world
Oh, so I’m not the only guy that has watched Sidney White 1000 times? And I get yelled at by Rebecca because not paying any attention to what she is saying to me. How am I to blame? She is ridiculously sexy.
Whether it is with Kate or the ho he long conned, why is Sawyer always little spoon on Lost?
Amanda Bynes is hot Brian I’m sorry.
1.) I agree about ZG. He is a talent. But people need to stop using Dane Cook and Carlos Mencia as the barometer of bad comedy. One is a 40-year-old man trying to act like a college co-ed who just happens to have pock marks that would make Tommy Lee Jones do a double take and the other is a hack thief who’s only talent is the ability to write quickly on a cocktail napkin in the back of a comedy club. Neither of whom should have the word comedian used to describe them.
2.) As for the mowhawk comment I agree it is stupid and in my opinion we should go back to a time when children were seen and not heard. This absurd form of expressionism and the blatant acts of tomfoolery can be traced directly back to the rat tail.
3.) Your comments about Mr. T’s talent or the lack there of are out of line. The man is a treasure and that gold was real. Get your facts right if you want to be a journalist!
All and all not a bad piece. Your style reminds me of a young Shel Silverstein.
my bad that last one was mine
did someone with a mohawk make you cry as a child?????
Airborne Toxic Event is great. I had to do same thing and open my mind up a little about music. I constanly only played classic rock, Pearl Jam, and Tool. Zooz is wise.
I’m no huge McCarthy fan either, bro, but you can’t have dead air during a broadcast. That’s what the mute button is for. Oh, and all communications students are encouraged to talk, not just Howard Stern fans.
I love the part about the wife’s comments on Ray Emery