Versus Number Fifteen

Pulp Fiction Opening versus Trainspotting Opening

Was amidst a pretty terrible Thanksgiving drive home yesterday, when I found myself digging through crusty Case Logic cases to find forgotten gems. After a thoroughly enjoyable 2 hours of listening to the soundtracks of Trainspotting and Pulp Fiction, a peculiar fact dawned on me- these two films have two of the coolest openings in cinematic history. Also consider that they were made in the mid-90s, when somewhat of a mini film noir-Renaissance sent shock-waves down the linearity of film making and demonstrated to budding auteurs that you can make films with grit on a relatively shoe-string budget and still be successful. Anyway, will spare you an over-blown tirade on the merits of Boyle and Tarantino's masterpieces- just thought it would be cool to share these two clips.       

Conclusion: Both are fantastic beginnings and fitting microcosms of what made this genre/ era of film so invigorating: obscure yet unforgettable music, dialogue that was as literate as it was quick, a sense of humor as dark as Vincent Vega's tie, and an unflinching eye for the most horrific of acts. Still, I pick Trainspotting's intro just because "Lust of Life" is a personal favorite song, and the narration discussing the pro's and con's of domestication is a tad more poignant of a topic of conversation than common annoyances of liquor store robberies (even if not as humorous). 

Versus Number Fourteen

Danny McBride versus the World







Danny McBride is the funniest man on the planet. 

Versus Number Thirteen

Quantum of Solace Versus Twilight

This article is not what you think- it is not some bizarre diatribe about the connection between vampires and British secret service agents; the intricacies of British versus American film; a comparison of two of the Holiday season's biggest properties.

Nope, not about that at all. I did see Quantum of Solace, which made me reevaluate everything in my life because I finally found out what the word "mediocre" means. I have seen the ravenous crowds of females waiting to see a vampire bone a lonely chick. But this isn't even about the movie's themselves.

This is simply about me sitting in my little shitty cubicle, listening to two women, one a heavy 35 year old woman who makes an effort with me by bringing up football and another, heavier, more 40ish woman who screams at her kids daily, discussing these two films. No, that is misleading. They are discussing certain aspects of the two films. In terms of the new Bond, I have heard these two women speak of Daniel Craig's abs as though they are two heavier pot-head MidWesterners about to go into a all you can eat Baked Potato Bar. If that simile sounds a little peculiar, it might have something to do with the fact that both are eating baked potatoes that resemble saturated fat volcanoes, barely being able to get words in between bacon bits in teeth and diet cokes swilled.

In regards to Twilight, both agree that the movie is fantastic. That the books too were fantastic. I haven't read any of the vampi-philiac works, and while I am sure I would find endless depth in their Pychon-esque passages, I will not read those books because I already have enough enemies- I don't need to hate myself as well. The heavier lady gives a certain gasp at the mention of the main actor's name- it resembles the sound that is emitted over the speakers when Martin calls Pam a dog in Martin. I contemplate two things- (1) how bad I feel for having such a strong reaction to this awful conversation and (2) why do fatter people wear tight fitting clothing. I think I just saw the heavier one's tattoo- it is a Chinese letter (guess where it is located)- the only appropriate definition of the character would be "nausea."

The younger one offers to take the two plates up and get some cookies from the break room. I expect for her to get chocolate chips because of the nutritional value of raisins in the oatmeal cookies, but she vouches to get both. I suppose the FUPA area on her pants needs a more spherical quality- do vampires like heavier girls?

After the alerting thump of my forehead popping off my desk, both look over at me with looks of "isn't that cute, a boy not wanting to hear about popular female culture." I smile half-heartedly, thinking how accurately I can throw my stapler. The decision- probably very poorly, as I had the strength to play baseball, just not the circular throwing motion that secretes the ideal amount of torque out of one's arm. After a quick recap of why Twilight was the better film but Quantum of Solace had more drippy-pants parts (admittedly my term, not theirs), I smile. The speaking stops. It might annoy me endlessly, but those two people, no matter what I may think of their physical appearance, just had an enjoyable conversation, a twenty minute little session where both felt connected by common interests even if the topic something I would call "mind shit." Both of these women cried when Obama won. Idealism is alive and well in America, ideas not so much.

But, like many, I can't have some full sense of happiness for these two women. I must stay at arm's lengths- the tips of my fingernails just barely grazing the cat-hair on their seasonal sweaters. For that, I have to say that Twilight wins, because I haven't seen that, and thus it makes me feel a little better to have less in common with these two women. Also, I find it hilarious that people find it interesting to have sex with vampires. Don't they know they are habitual P.E.s, and oh yeah, THEY FUCKING DRINK PEOPLE'S BLOOD.

Versus Number Twelve

Me vs. the Pitchfork 500

Pitchfork.com, a web-site created in 1995 to simultaneously cater to the rise of the independent music scene and the internet, recently put out a list of their 500 best songs from 1977- 2006, a retrospective they have appropriately titled The Pitchfork 500. Given that I have only seen the list and not been informed about any potential restrictions, such as no two songs from the same album, I acknowledge that I might look back at this entry as being a little trigger happy. I identify pitchfork as two things- the best place for music criticism anywhere¹, and the most pompous analysis on the internet, perpetually walking on the sardonic/ unnecessarily vicious threshold. For instance, here is a review of Jet’s disc Shine On- a CD I wouldn’t consider anything greater than television ad music, but even for all it’s derivativeness it deserved more than just mockery- even Spinal Tap got words in their review of Shark Sandwich.²

With all that being said, I do have some general notes about the list before I get on to the intestines of this piece. First, and foremost, this is an awesome list. The list goes from Bowie to Fugazi to N.W.A. to Kelly Clarkson, and rarely did I find myself objectively disagreeing with any of the picks. Secondly, the more I think about this list, the more it becomes obvious that reading the forward to the book would be mandatory to understanding the list. For instance, are chosen songs supposed to identify an era, a genre, a group themselves, or are the editors simply judging by sonic bliss? Is it which songs are most influential or best-selling³?

But don’t worry, I’m not writing my own Vsmatters 500 (which does sound like a tech-sponsored NASCAR race or some sort of German sold-on-TV appliance). Instead, I decide to knit-pick on the list by doing three categories- (1) Songs that should have been on there, (2) Right band, Wrong song, and (3) Songs that should not have been on there. I acknowledge that there has been a lot of terse thought regarding this piece, so don’t hold me to the flame if I forgot to suggest an obviously worthy song or something of a similar nature. Oh, and by the way, I win this one, because if they put the changes I suggested on the list, I would clearly prefer the reformed one over the original.

Songs that Deserved to be on The List But Were Not

Right Group, Wrong Song

5. 2 Pac- “I Get Around”- should have been “California Love”- I’m the first to admit I know diddly-squat about rap music, particularly mid 90s west coast rhymes, so purists may want to burn me at the stake for picking the hyper productive dead MC’s most popular song over another of his well regarded cuts. The fact is “California Love” brings together two juggernauts of rap without compromising nor unnecessarily catering to either. Rule of thumb- if your song is good enough to get Chris Tucker to be in the video, you’ve got yourself a hit.

4. White Stripes- “Dead Leaves and the Dirty Ground”- should have been “Fell in Love With a Girl.” Both of these are integral parts to the Stripes’ 2001 masterpiece White Blood Cells, but whereas “Dead Leaves and the Dirty Ground,” with its’ Led Zep-sized riffs, is a much better example of who the Whites Stripes are, “Fell in Love with a Girl” seems to better reflect the spectrum of the Detroit Duo’s influences more evenly. Plus, I’m a fan of rock songs that clock under 130 seconds.

3. Gang of Four- “Damaged Goods”- should have been “I Found That Essence Rare.” Both of these songs are from Gang of Four’s genre-shattering and grossly influential Entertainment!⁴, an album that suggested that rocking and bobbing are not mutually exclusive reactions to a good beat. While the two pieces sound very similar with a bass line on the foreground and guitar work that sounds like a fencer with a chainsaw, I simply like the lyrics and message more for “I Found That Essence Rare,” a song that expresses sincerity in a genre characterized by jaded screeches.

2. Devo- “Mongoloid”- should have been “Gut Feeling/ Slap Your Mammy.” While the former song, with its harmonized chorus, abrasive guitar riff, and bizarre subject matter (in this case the story of a mongoloid trying to make it in a sterilized day- in day-out existence) seems to be a much better representation of the bands’ ostracized version of punk rock, the latter is simply a better song. With a slow, Dick Dale-esque surf melody that becomes quickly emboldened with a exponentially charging piano, this is the song that demonstrates Devo’s ear for subtlety, texture, and song structure. Also, the opening line of the song: “Something about the way you taste/ Makes me want to clear my throat” is classic.

1. Interpol- “Obstacle 1”- should have been “PDA.” Once again, I think this was Pitchfork giving a nod to a band’s sound over acknowledging the band’s exemplary song. “Obstacle 1,” a decent track with an appropriately shattered structure and an almost dueling guitarist and vocalist, ultimately comes across as a carbon-copy of the Depeche Mode or Echo and the Bunnymen. “PDA” puts none of these comparisons to rest, but there is a fragile happiness, particularly the jam that concludes the song, that separates the New Yorkers from their mascara-heavy cross-Atlantic influences. The lyrics mix melancholy with an abstract razor-thin ray of hope to create what might be the best written song of the 2000s.

Songs That Should Have Been on There

5. Grandaddy- “He’s Simple, He’s Dumb, He’s the Pilot”- A personal favorite group of mine, I have to admit I was a little surprised that nothing from The Sophtware Slump, or more generally, this band was on the list. This song, which takes from influences ranging from Electric Light Orchestra to Pet Sounds, is a great statement by a band many referred to as the American Radiohead.

4. Eminem- “Guilty Conscience”- While there is already an Eminem song on the list, I feel that if Jay-Z is as well represented as he is, that the Real Slim Shady should also get some bonus dap. Where as Jay-Z seems to be the apex of the traditional smooth talking, money flashing, popping beats rap-game, Eminem, due to his low pigment count, approaches the genre with a self-deprecating humor and brutal honesty that was rare for rap that had become bastardized with the No Limits and Cash Monies near the turn of the millennium. This song does what every good Eminem song does- it makes you awe his phonic fortitude, gasp at his violent yearnings, and most importantly, laugh.

3. Scissor Sisters- “Take Your Mama”- The turn of the millennium’s music scene was inhabited by a lot of “next” bands- the Strokes’ were the “Next Ramones,” the Hives were the “Next Stooges,” and Andre 3000 of Outkast was the “Next Prince.” The Scissor Sisters took a similar if less-pedantically-artsy-route- they are the “Next Elton John.” “Take Your Mama,” one of the most listenable ditties of the last thirty years, seems to mix John’s clap-along tunes like “Crocodile Rock,” with his androgyny, and adds a little Brian May showmanship on the guitar to bring the entire piece together.

2. Megadeth- “Peace Sells”- Love it or hate it, heavy metal was one of the dominant forms of music throughout the 20 years. Fans of virtuosic musicianship and gonzo humor tend to align themselves with the “love” category, music critics tend to huddle around the “hate” teepee. Regardless, the list only has two real Metal songs, “Battery” and “Run to the Hills”- and while they are done by two of the more lauded metal Gods (Metallica and Iron Maiden), I still find it puzzling that the list couldn’t find another accomplished Metal song to put on the list- consider this that pick. “Peace Sells” has mind-blowing guitar work by Dave Mustaine, drum work that makes you want to gallop on a centaur, and a bass line that has been immortalized by none other than MTV (it was the introductory music bit on the “MTV News” clips). This career-definer also presents a great point about metal- while it is mostly loud, fast, and screaming, there is some level of substance in the music, seen by the expressed ideology of peace selling but no one buying due to corrupted humanism.

1. Red Hot Chili Peppers- “Under the Bridge”- Not my favorite song by the group, but probably its most famous as well as its most loved. It is discouraging that there was no Red Hot Chili Peppers (or Pearl Jam for that matter) on this list- they are responsible for two of the best albums of the last twenty years (Ten and Blood Sugar Sex Magik) and countless quality singles. This song showed the Chili Peppers ability to go out of the hard-rocking, early 90s box that was so popular and sing a song with more tonal intricacies as well as make an anthem for kids who didn’t like rap or Poison (ie, me). Bonus points for the fact that so many people know the lyrics to this song, but so few know that it is about heroin addiction.

Should Not Have Been on the List

5. Elliot Smith- “Needle in the Hay”- As a fan of Elliot Smith, I was glad to see that he was represented several times on the list. As an objective fan of music, I knew that several was one too many. As a fan of Elliot Smith and of music, I knew that this song, a cringe-inducing monolithic bore is a terrible selection for a “best of” list. While the song will always be bolted into my memory due to the vivid attempted suicide scene it accompanied in Wes Anderson’s excellent The Royal Tenenbaums (something that echoed Smith’s own suicide) I prefer his “King’s Crossing” or “Son of Sam,” songs sparkling with life and anger as well as pain to this boring acoustic mess.

4. Justin Timberlake- “Cry Me a River”- Anybody that wants to say that Justin Timberlake is cool, I direct you to this. Peoples’ obvious lack of long term memory can be very disheartening. JT’s reemergence as Michael Jackson lite is as laughable as it is trite. The funny thing is I get in drawn out arguments over the fact that I wish I was the guy- that my hatred is in actuality the sincerest sort of fandom- jealousy. I would like to have millions of dollars, dolphins as bidets, diamonds as balance mechanisms, and Biels as penis warmers- but I would rather have it on my own terms as opposed to be being a barometer of K-Mart popularity. This song has been sung millions of times before by better musicians (see Motown: all). I will, however, saw that JT could potentially slip himself off my list of shitheads by continuing acting- he did a fantastic job in both Alpha Dog and Black Snake Moan.

3. Missy Elliot- “Get Your Freak On”- I can usually ‘get’ most pop music. I rarely like the junk food, but I can appreciate the appeal in a simple beat with monosyllabic lyrics that make the women shake them curves. This song should fall under this category, but it does not. Just because Elliot has a different approach to making beats does not suggest that said method is better, comparable, or even acceptable. Songs like this are why films like You Got Served have been made, and highest grossing documentary of all time, The Downfall of Western Civilization: The Late 1900s, will be out in ten years or so. Clearly a pick so the people at pitchfork can claim they have a clue as to what was ‘urban taste’ (ie, they saw black people listening to it on MTV during TRL before they heard Nirvana for the first time).

2. Animal Collective- There are two kinds of indie-rock fans- those who appreciate the different spin on established rock n’ roll traditions and those who like the no wave brand of music, where the very foundations on which rock are based are ignored for a more “feeling,” sporadic sort of music. Bands such as Queens of the Stoned Age, Arcade Fire, Wolf Parade, and Pavement fall into this first group; bands like Liars, newer Radiohead, and Animal Collective fall into the second. The second group, usually acknowledged as the second coming of “no wave” music, really clicks for some folks- for me, I think it is laughably bad. Radiohead still puts out killer albums, yes, but most of these other bands tend to forget that their idol (Radiohead) were a rock band rooted in pop sensibility before they decided to experiment with rhythm, beat, progression, etc. Animal Collective is the worst of these offenders, as their obsession with Amnesiac is only rivaled by their lauding of the Beach Boys Pet Sounds era. While both influences certainly have their merits, combined its like watching an asexual, thumbless dwarf crying because he can’t commit suicide- it is so gloomy and gray that the only thing that is being said is that the band can’t think of anything truly original, so they went to the go-to, in this case, vague, depressing music.

1. Napalm Death- “Twist the Knife (Slowly)”- One of the greatest characteristics of the Pitchfork 500 is its very inclusive nature. From disco to no-wave to metal to modern pop, pitchfork has shown themselves to consider music as a whole as opposed to the genres one might assume they prefer while creating this list. That being said, not every genre of music is one that should be considered as objectively great. Grindcore (the genre Napalm Death is considered the king of) falls under this category. Allmusic.com’s definition: “grindcore in its purest form consisted of short, apocalyptic blasts of noise played on standard heavy metal instrumentation (distorted guitar, bass, drums)” makes it seem like a more aggressive hard-core music, but that is misleading. Grindcore’s purpose is to essentially hurt the listener’s ears by lacking any tonal aptitude and showers of blood-filled screams. If it sounds like Iggy Pop, I have done both a grave disservice. Maybe grindcore will be like punk and appreciated one day for its anti-pop take on pop music- if that is the case, great for Napalm Death, but in my eyes it is shit music, and shit music, much like pleasing music, maintains its quality no matter the amount of time passed. While pitchfork added this song to give homage to the grindcore genre, I think that is lame reasoning- if we are including everything, where are the kids’ lullabies⁵, neo nazi anthems, and Sexual Warrior⁶-esque goth-Kraftwerk tunes. For such a great list, this is clearly the vilest of the blemishes. Simply can’t complain though about the Pitchofork 500 as a whole- at least this list didn’t become a circle jerk of Beatles and Bob Dylan songs with tired Phil Spector crap sprinkled throughout.

1 Rolling Stone was for about ten years, but the magazine they currently publish might as well be called Teen People Weekly… For Adults!

2 The two words, of course: “Shit Sandwich”

3 I’d assume the former as I don’t see Boyz II Men on the list

4 It is said that Flea from the Red Hot Chili Peppers picked up a bass after hearing this album

5 They Might Be Giants have written some great ones

6 Reference to Foot Fist Way

Versus Number Eleven

AC/DC versus the Ramones

Both of these bands are in the Rock n’ Roll Hall of Fame and for good reason. Both of these bands also share a deserved, if not as terrible as it seems criticism- all of their songs sound the same. This censure has relegated both bands to the “second best” status of their respective genres, as Zeppelin is clearly considered the better of AC/DC and The Clash is thought as the best band to come out of the punk scene. A song-by-song comparison between two second- best Rock behemoths.

1. Most Popular Song: “You Shook Me (All Night Long)” versus “Blitzkrieg Bop”

If you pick one of these songs, you offend all the elitist music media, if you pick the other you upset all the lap-dance purveyors of America. Regardless, both of these songs are essential parts of the Rock n’ Roll canon. “Shook Me,” from AC/DC’s eight-digit-selling Back in Black has been played at least once a day on classic rock stations accompanied by lame anecdotes of messy sex, can beer, and sub-Camaro American sports cars. This was the first song that I really loved by AC/DC, being a catalyst for a love affair that has spanned two decades, but it has also proven to be the “Sweet Home Alabama” for the Aussie trouble-makers.¹ “Shook Me” does have the sing-a-long chorus, catchy guitar riff, and strut-to-it beat of a great Classic Rock song, but it is lacking the maniacal edge that made AC/DC songs want you somehow fight, fornicate with, and drink up the planet all at the same time. “Blitzkrieg Bop” is the most focused, purest example of what punk rock is. First, the lyrics are equally non-sensical and sarcastic at the same time, from the idea of a sock-hop type dance named after Nazi War strategies to the almost Motown “Hey Ho”s at the end typify the brashness of punk rock, as well as the slyness. Secondly, it completely shot a hole in the balloon of rock that was prog-rock, shooting right out of the speaker, saying what it has to say for two minutes, then quitting- it makes one wonder why so many of Pink Floyd’s songs had quarter-hour intros. Thirdly, it shows that if you know three chords and some speed, you too can be the next American Rock Institution. There are better punk rock songs out there, but “Blitzkrieg Bop” remains both iconic while still sounding modern- Winner: “Blitzkrieg Bop.”

2. Most Reflective song: “Let There Be Rock” versus “I Wanna Be Sedated”

I think the biggest complement I can give “Let there Be Rock” is that it actually sounds like it was produced, recorded, and mixed in Hell. While there are many Rock songs who love to shout about women and drugs and how doomed they may feel because of the sinful nature of mans’ desires, AC/DC decided to share similar thoughts with a fire-fringed smile as opposed to a teary frown. The opening guitar work in the song is probably faster than anything the Ramones would ever record, and that is before you hit the end progression, which I think is sound somehow laced with crack-cocaine. The lyrics, a sort of Forrest Gump-take on the history of Rock n’ Roll (I’m pretty sure Tchaikovsky had little to do with Rock music’s formation) are perfect AC/DC- loud, unfocused, and very mocking. AC/DC’s knowledge of music history might be spotty at best, but this song confirmed the group’s place- I find it hard to believe that Punk would exist without songs like this. “I Wanna Be Sedated” comes from a similar place as “Blitzkrieg Bop”- in fact, if one were to flavor-inject a Buddy Holly or Dick Dale song into the latter, the former is what you would have. While sonically comparing these two songs might show the Ramones’ most glowing weakness- most of their songs sound the exact same- looking at the lyrics shows several of the subtleties that made the Ramones the Ramones- the quickly talk-sung of “get me to the airport/ get me to the show/ Hurry, Hurry, Hurry/ Before It’s Time to Go” sounds so quickly put together that it sounds like Dee Dee and Johnny must have gotten their hands on the extra-radioactive glue before writing. While this cynical, substance-drenched ode to excess may sound like a cry for help, the simply playfulness of Joey’s voice gives it almost a Partridge Family vibe; that is, of course, if the entire Partridge family was made of Danny Bonaduces around the age of twenty-five. Both songs are great for different reasons, but AC/DC’s song is about hellraising, a much more fun topic than desire to self-sedate; not to mention the guitar work is the most stellar of AC/DC’s career- Winner: “Let There Be Rock”

3. Must underrated: “It’s a Long Way To the Top (If you Want to Rock n’ Roll)” versus “Judy is a Punk”

“Judy is a Punk” is exactly how you write a sub-two minute song. Come out guns blazing, get to chorus like it’s the last chopper out of Saigon, reiterate, stop. The song, which incorporates styles ranging from girl group clapping to Pet Sounds-esque harmonizing, is inescapably a punk song because of Joey’s dry, snarling voice and tongue out of cheek lyrics yet still distances itself from the genre because of its wave-pool harmony and beat. In a bigger sense, the song also incorporates the anguish and cathartic qualities of the Ramones that will make them an American treasure long after people forget about the Matchbox 20s of the world. This multi-layered song that somehow incorporates much of the American music canon still amazes for one reason- it still sounds incredible. Ninety-nine percent of bands’ entire musical catalogs don’t come near matching the musical excellence that these four punks from New York did in ninety-four seconds. Now, from the terse to the sprawling. Before Phish played with vaccum cleaners of Jethro Tull played with a jazz flute, Bon Scott of AC/DC played bag-pipes on music one would not think would mesh well with the traditional Celtic instrument. While “It’s a Long Way To the Top” is most certainly a mind melter of the highest sort, it also served as a blueprint- constant beat, chug-whiskey Keff chords, and anecdotal lyrics about rocking, partying, and women would be the reason AC/DC have sold in the hundreds of millions of records and recently topped 29 different international album charts with their newest album. This particular song, a pretty ordinary take on the tried-and-true “shit sucks” Rock n’ Roll lyrical motif, shows the Aussies at their most sarcastic (or snarling, depends if you think the band is capable of sarcasm). The song excels in a team-work sort of way- no instrument, including Scott’s Cowboy Killer voice and Young’s turned-to-11 guitar, ever really dominates the song, giving it a stomp-boogie quality that progresses instead of stagnates- and boy, what a progression it is. When the band finally reaches the song’s oft-mentioned top is when the bagpipes come in, and not to use a metaphor that many of my holier-than-thou English assumed about every piece of writing, but the song simply ejaculates- the prize for busting your ass- both a release in terms of you’ve crossed the line into mainstream success and dorky 70’s kids headphones, and the women inherent in being there. It’s mostly a matter of preference, as both songs dripped influence on the rock n’ roll landscape, but I think Judy is a Punk² is a more brilliantly arranged song- even though it doesn’t have bagpipes.

Conclusion: Typically when I do these articles it is about something I like versus something I am supposed to like but really hate, and the thoughts and pathetic allusions to Revenge of the Nerds and other films start to flow out of my fingers like a pop-cultured-blooded hemophiliac. Not the case this time. Not only would I place both of these bands in a Top 25-type listing of my favorites, but both bands have meant a great deal to me at different times of life, and it just seems weird to say one is superior to the other. While the bands differ almost diametrically when it comes to image, they both possess a fury and a boyish sense of fun that defines why music is the love of my life. It comes down to this- I’d rather listen to AC/DC when drinking and having a big time with friends, and I’d rather listen to the Ramones as accompaniment to my more sober adventures. Because I believe (perhaps incorrectly) my senses are sharper when sober, I have to believe my tastes should be an extension of that- hence, The Ramones take it. That being said, it is no coincidence that most of the more modern bands I like sound like a mix of these two (see here, here, and here).

1 For those of you not from the South, perhaps you have not had the as-bad-as-waterboarding pleasure of hearing “Sweet Home Alabama” at every function you’ll ever go to, but let me assure you, it blows.

2 It also might have to deal with that I didn’t want to type out the longer-than-I-remembered song title of the AC/DC song (although I am willing to type out “longer-than-I-remembered song title”)

Versus Number Ten

NFL 1990’s vs. NFL Today

Many father-son relationships, particularly when the patriarch and Junior are curmudgeons, are enriched by seemingly meaningless similarities. This rings especially true for me and my father, who came from vastly different backgrounds. But, as much as I didn’t understand his love of motorcycles and Law and Order and he didn’t quite get my idolatry of David Bowie, we shared tastes in Literature, the Rolling Stones, alcohol¹, and football. Football was a looming presence in my household from Saturday drives to Lexington to see the exquisitely awful VMI Keydets get Holyfield-ed by teams that only alumni could be familiar with, to the few movements on the Sunday couch, where getting up was only tolerated if one was cursing the team the Redskins was losing to, taking a bathroom break, or going up to adjust the volume² on the TV set. Time has passed, and while much has changed in my life and in the game of football itself, I still find myself crippled on couches every Sunday, albeit usually a little more hungover and more financially interested in games than I was when I was twelve. Given that we are a quarter through the 2008-09 NFL Season, it seemed as good as time as any to discuss the substantial differences in the culture of the NFL from the 1990s to today. While Fantasy Football has lead to fans having a level of interest never before seen in the good-but-not-great NFL player, it has also taken away some of the panache of the NFL- people root for players now, not teams, which is a significant misstep. Now, before I start comparing the two, I need to acknowledge that a lot of the greats in both eras spent some time in the other- for instance, Jerry Rice played in the 2000s, but he is unquestionably a 90s player, and the vice versa goes for a Terrell Owens/ Ladainian Tomlinson type.

Part I: Best at Position

It is obvious that there will always be debate over who was the best at whatever position forever. So, for instance, when I say Brett Favre was the best quarterback of the 1990s, someone could easily rebutt with Steve Young, Troy Aikman, or Trent “The Dent” Dilfer³. I get that some of my opinion might differ from your’s- I suggest starting up your own blog.

Quarterback- Brett Favre/ Tom Brady- It is difficult to compare these two except for the fact that they are the kings of their respective eras. Brady is a stream-lined, model dating, beret/ scarf combo sporting mastermind of offense. His performance last year was unquestionably the best offensive performance in the history of the league- if he had won the Super Bowl, it would have been the best statistical season of a professional athlete ever. Favre is the most overliked athlete of the ESPN-era (besides maybe MJ), but it is for good reason. He’s a good ol’ boy from Mississippi with one of the biggest arms in NFL history. He has a playfulness that makes Madden-like types opine endlessly about his ‘boy-like passion for the game.’ He has won the MVP three times and has every major statistical quarterback record in football. While I stick by my point that he certainly isn’t as beyond reproach as some would make him out to be, Brady simply doesn’t have the little qualities that make Brett Favre what he is. And for those who argue, logically, that Brady has a good shot of taking all of those QB records I was referring to, he won’t have the most impressive one- 256 consecutive starts. Winner: Favre

Running Back- Emmitt Smith/ LaDainian Tomlinson- I’m already upset with myself for picking Emmitt over Barry Sanders, but Emmitt has those hypnotically huge Super Bowl rings and Barry just has faint memories of how sweet he was in the mid-90s Madden. Like Favre, Emmitt was the face of a dominant organization for much of the 1990s. He holds the record for all-time rushing yards… but it took him a lot longer than it took James Brown, the aforementioned Sanders, and Earl Campbell to get where they got. It can also be argued that Emmitt Smith had the best offensive line of all time, something that might come in handy when playing running back. Ladainian Tomlinson is the best football player of all time. While many could argue to me about his inconsistency, his lack of championships, or the fact he is still not that deep into his career, I’d say just shut up and watch him play. No one has a better combination of skill, form, desire, and class in the NFL. While Adrian Peterson might end up having me adjust this praise of LT, we’ll cross that bridge when we come to it. Winner: LT

Wide Reciever- Jerry Rice/ Terrell Owens- I say Owens over Moss because Owens has been more consistent and been Pro Bowl caliber for every team he has been on, no matter the quarterback or offensive scheme. Terrell Owens is also what’s wrong with the NFL today, from his habit of throwing teammates under the bus, to his so-obnoxious-its-almost-disgusting self advertising⁴. But, I will give credit where credit is due and say he is an amazing talent, fun to watch, and as fierce a competitor as there ever has been. That’s cute and all, but Jerry Rice is Jerry Rice- if you don’t understand that logic, you don’t like football. Winner: Jerry Rice

Offensive Lineman- Larry Allen/ Jonathan Ogden- Once I actually tried to play football and got my unmotivated, unathletic ass relegated to playing Offensive Line, I started to watch the trenches a lot more. For those of you who still don’t appreciate the battle up front, specifically the paramount role a Left Tackle plays, I suggest reading The Blind Side by Michael Lewis. That being said, however, it is difficult to really compare these two OL-Gods, due to the less than flashy nature of the position. These two players were unmovable man-mountains, laughing at the idea of a sack and salivating at the sound of a running play. Hate to do this, but Draw.

Defensive Line- Reggie White/ Jason Taylor- I feel bad I’m not putting a Defensive tackle in the running for this, because it is the most underrated position in football (look how much better a Albert Haynesworth or Tommie Harris makes their respective defenses), but these two guys are pretty spectacular. Reggie White was more of your traditional pass-rushing Defensive End who would laugh at the suggestion of someone running on him. Jason Taylor is much more of a general playmaker- he gets his sacks, the occasional pick, and has a good nose for the ball. But, due to his under-sized frame, he was also a target for many offensive coordinators running the football. In my experience, you stop the run, you have a much better chance of winning the game- Winner: The Minister of Defense

Linebacker- Junior Seau/ Ray Lewis- While Seau has been reasonably productive in the 2000s, his decade was clearly the 1990s (he was a seven- time, yes seven, First team All Pro) when he was the dominate defensive force in football. His controlled recklessness, quickness, strength, and decision making made him on of the most complete football players on either side of the field. His passion made him an irreplaceable team leader, and his gheri-curl made even Ice Cube in sheer jealousy. But Ray Lewis is Ray Lewis- probably the most focused and ferocious player in the last decade, Lewis is always making plays and also orchestrating the Ravens Defense, typically in the NFL’s top five. The only surprise to me about Ray Lewis is that he killed somebody off the field before he killed somebody on it. Winner: Ray Ray

Defensive Back- Deion Sanders/ Ed Reed- First things first, I really wanted to put “Darrel Green/ Sean Taylor” but that would have been half-inaccurate (Sean Taylor was awesome but not ‘best of the 00s awesome’) and wholly showing of my Redskins bias. Deion Sanders effected the game of football like few have before or since. His “primetime” attitude coupled with his Bolt-esque speed⁵ lead him to be the most feared cover corner in the league for a long time. His punt return skills were not to shabby either- until he came to the Redskins, where he made it pretty clear that he would rather live in Arizona⁶ than contribute to the team. Deion will probably be better remembered, however, for his constantly running mouth and ludicrous lifestyle which far too many athletes have idolized in the last decade- if you think trouble magnet like Pac Man Jones would be allowed to suit up in this league without Deion Sanders, you’d be mistaken. On the other side, you have Mr. Ed Reed. My man from the U reminds me a lot of a Ronnie Lot type, except he doesn’t hit quite as hard but makes twice as many plays. I realize this is a once in a lifetime thing, but I was at FedEx when Ed Reed sacked whatever ghost was playing QB for the Skins, forced a fumble, picked up the fumble and returned it I think fifty yards for a touchdown. For reference, I think that is like seventeen points in my fantasy league- you simply can not have a bigger game changing play than that. I also know very little about Ed Reed the person, which makes me like Ed Reed the person a lot more. For Christ’s sake, I still read about Deion mentoring NFL players; I guess he has a hook in the media much like they were the game of one of his ESPN hunting shows. Regardless, Ed Reed is a defensive back that people can build a defense around, Deion seems more like a luxury.

Best Team- Cowboy Era vs. Patriots Era- If these two played on the moon when they were both in their prime and the instant-replay option was not enforced but Bellichik could still watch signals but….. It is pointless to compare football teams as though there was a time vacuum in which you could get all of these guys in their prime- if there was such a thing, you’d hope we would get an Einstein or Jefferson in there over Michael Irvin, but I digress. Since I have been watching football with a fervor that few others do things on Sundays⁷, these have been the two teams that have jumped out and been suffocating the competition. Needless to say, I hate them both for different reasons. The Cowboys, well, because they are the Cowboys, and they were feeding me things to dislike about them during the 90s like Columbia was feeding stock brokers the motivation to stay up for those hundred hour weeks. Arrogant, overrated receiver? Check. Quarterback who always seemed to annoyingly make the right play at the right time? Check. Obnoxiously aggressive defensive lineman (bonus points: he went to JMU)? Check. But as much as I could try to justify disliking the separate pieces of the Cowboys, the reason my hatred was in full check during this era was because the Cowboys were good, like amazingly good. While their record may not suggest the Patriots-era dominance of last year, the Cowboys put fear in the hearts of their opponents- they were mean, fast, talented, and most importantly, hungry. The Patriots took a completely different approach to their dominance by enforcing team-work, role playing, and a secretiveness that teeters on CIA-level (in other words, pointlessness). Tom Brady had the ability to pick apart defenses using an ever-dwindling supply of nobodies (I think their best receiver when they lost to the Colts in the 2007 AFC Championship was Jabar Gaffney- that is pathetic/impressive) and the defense, who annually seems to lose a huge role player, continues to dominate because of their emphasis of strategy over individual players. Now that Brady has the offensive weapons, I’d predict this era is merely taking a break for a year⁸ before it’s a bloodbath next year. But, their questionable approach, particularly Spygate, leaves a pretty crappy taste in my mouth. Also, while the Patriots certainly have the all-stars, Belichick’s focus of team over person leads them to come across flatly. With Randy Moss having been so muzzled in his time in New England, it is clear that Bob Kraft wants to run an organization far differently from the Jerry Jones I-don’t-give-two-shits-about-character-let-him-run-fast-and-sell-jerseys Cowboys teams (of old and new- Tank Johnson + Pac Man + TO= something bad will happen. How did Jerry Jones get so much money with this kind of risk taking?). While it has been somewhat boring that the Patriots era has been defined by secrecy, efficiency, and teamwork, it also speaks well to the game itself- you don’t have to be obnoxious to be dominant. But, that being said, I can’t tell you how much fun I have had watching old Cowboy players get arrested, puzzle me with their career choices⁹, and flat-out embarrass themselves trying to commentate on ESPN. Still though, I think the Patriots of last year, which wasn’t one of their three Super Bowl teams, would have destroyed any Cowboys team ever.

So overall, I think when it comes down to it I acknowledge that the 00s is the best era in football. While the bigger-than-life personalities have become a little sickening, they have also made the game a 24-hour drama. Add the internet, the NFL Network, and the full realization of ESPN as a sports powerhouse, and its amazing to be a current NFL fan. Sure, I will probably always say Brett Favre was the best QB of all time, but my old man used to go on and on about Johnny Unitas, so I guess ignorance in sports fans is here to stay. Its good to be sentimental and defensive about players of old- other wise, how could I get in a near fist-fight over who was better the 1990 Giants or 1991 Redskins?

1 Except I stopped drinking bourbon when I was twenty- last time I had a drink with the old man he was sucking down Crown Royal- this might explain the diabetes…

2 My father was a big dude who usually sat in a leather recliner during games- him trying to wiggle his way into finding a remote was humorous, but usually just to awkward/ painful too watch

3 Actually, I was just looking at statistics, and there is no way Trent Dilfer could be considered the best QB of anything (he wasn’t even the best gunslinger named ‘Trent’ while he was in the league), besides the Super Bowl he won with the Ravens

4 His Line of “i’ shirts on Hard Knocks was hilarious because of the poorness of the idea and the desperation of the spokes-person. “iPractice?” More like “iInfringe” on Apple’s copyright.

5 Or does Usain Bolt have Deion Sanders-esque type speed? You decide

6 See Boys Will be Boys

7 Religion?

8 God knows Brady has some nice things to go home to

9 Remember when E. Smith went to the Cardinals?

Versus Number Nine

I Love Money versus G’s To Gents

In his explanation of the Communist ideology’s suggestion of the elimination of all major religions, Karl Marx justifies these limitations with the quote “Die Religion ... ist das Opium des Volkes,” or to those not familiar with Romantic-era German, “Religion is the opiate of the people.”¹ Apparently he never caught an episode of Tila Tequila.

Reality television is ubiquitous. I hate the crap, and yet I still have three reality shows that I watch with a vigor that is shameless. But, much like the religion in Mr. I’m-too-good-for-capitalism’s quote, reality television is characterized by two things- the cheap thrill of the product and the addictiveness of said thrill. While watching this sludge isn’t necessarily bad in of itself, it does deter one from some of television’s denser, better selections, much like that bag of Ruffles when checking out at the 7-11 might dissuade you from having to sit down and taking the time to order a steak dinner. This becomes especially clear when it comes to repeat viewings: to prove how backwards this all is, I have seen this clip about 250 times more than this one. But, in all fairness, I rarely have the time or the needed focus to invest an hour in watching a drama-drenched indictment on America, particularly when Gordon Ramsey is about to shit a brick. Fortunately my arrogance has lead me to divide Reality Shows into two categories: competition and lifestyle- this is solely so I can call one “subtly relevant”² and the other “why terrorists hate America.”

Lifestyle shows are just as they are titled, little windows into the “lives” of somebody (ies). Typically these shows are based around a celebrity, like the unfathomably depressing The Two Coreys or the no-adverb-needed lameness of Run’s House. Currently, The Hills is the leader of this pack, something incomprehensible, like how people can like the Dallas Cowboys, the Dave Matthews Band, or Tyler Perry. The show, centered around the livlihoods of three eccentric siblings, deals with their tireless trying to stick together after the patriarch is incarcerated for… oh wait, that’s Arrested Development, one of the best shows of all time. The Hills, on the other hand, proves two things: first, for some reason, people will find you more interesting if you are attractive³ although the opposite is typically the case, and secondly, this show actually might prove the opening quote of this article because The Hills systemically proves that there is no God. If there was, wouldn’t Bernie Mac still be alive and all of these mouth-breathers picking condoms out of the water at the water treatment plant?

Competition reality shows, on the other hand, are my jam. Whereas The Hills just shows you why my generation will be the one where China becomes the world’s super-power, shows like Flavor of Love and America’s Next Top Model actually show these imbeciles competing with one another. Due to this competition, as well as the desperate nature of the contestants, we see quickly how bad people can be to one another, which provides many hours of laughter. People on shows like The Hills try to show these socialites as gorgeous, innocuously flawed people- in reality, L.A. is made up of a lot more Buckeeys and Heats, and seeing terrible people treat each other terribly kind of gives these shows the air of a Chekhov play. The two current kings of the schadenfreude television industry are VH1’s I Love Money and MTV’s From G’s to Gents. If you haven’t been watching these shows, I give fair warning- the remainder of the article is sagging with spoilers.

Premise: Although my convoluted rhetoric may suggest otherwise, I am actually a huge fan of simplicity, and in terms of titular straightforwardness, I Love Money is the The Godfather of reality television. The show takes some of the more memorable characters from VH1’s “ode to birth control” series (Rock of Love, Flavor of Love, and I Love New York), hoses them down to get that post Tiki Bob’s⁴ stank off of them, and suits them all with push-up bras, hair gel, and clothing that can show off those awesome barber-wire and lower-back tattoos. The show takes away the absurd suggestion that people actually want to have a lasting relationship with Flavor Flav, Bret Michaels, or New York, and proposes to the viewer that hey, maybe some of these people solely came onto the show for monetary gain more than trying to have cringe-inducing make-out sessions with this man. To win these elusive monies, the characters all have to engage in competitions ranging from spitting for distance to who can throw a tomahawk in a mannequin’s back (I know, I know). Add in a fair amount of lying, alliances, Megan, cheap spirits, and the great country of Mexico, and all I have to say is that my Sunday nights at nine o’clock are spoken for.

If I Love Money takes a “we know these people are shallow tools, might as well watch them crawl for money” approach to reality television, From Gs to Gents takes a far different approach based entirely on the egotism of Jamie Foxx⁵ and Farmsworth Bentley⁶. These two well regarded (I guess? Don’t really follow the hip hop scene) men have decided to take their reputation as two clean-cut African American gentleman (hence the “gents” part of the title) to help current ‘Gs,’ which for all you white people means ‘gangsta⁷,’ change their thuggish ways. For the reformed ‘g’ who performs well enough to dodge the ebony spheres and cruel wrath of Bentley, can look forward to becoming a member of the undefined “gentleman’s club.” Oh, and some big cash prize, the only reason any of these Master P Wanttobe Ps even act like they are faintly interested. The show, unlike I Love Money, did not have an established character base, which remained a problem for roughly 20 minutes before my man Pretty Ricky hit the scene and escalated this show into the national conscience. Much like I Love Money, the contestants range from the utterly pathetic to the remarkably stupid, as the audience must go on the roller-coaster that is life in a rented- MTV house.

While both shows’ strength come from its execution more than the premise itself, I have to say From G’s To Gents wins this round because of the laughably weak attempt to suggest that they aren’t merely exploiting these assholes, but rather they are trying to help them make positive change to live an achieving life. While many times better than the show it imitates, I Love Money is a shameless rip-off of MTV’s Road Rule/ Real World Gauntlet series, and this lack of innovation leads to a narrow loss this round.

Characters: I Love Money

1. Mr. Boston- Originally from I Love New York, Mr. Boston proves that the people Martin Lawrence and Katt Williams base their “white guy” voice on actually does exist. Mr. Boston, with his odd affinity for g-string underwear, desire to get into near fatal altercations with some of the other housemates, and vocal eloquence of Gilbert Gottfried proves that no matter how bad your erectile dysfunction or addiction to crystal meth, you are in fact better than somebody. His expulsion from I Love Money so early in the season lead to at least one of my roommates to stop watching immediately. Favorite moment: Although this is from I Love New York, it remains one of my favorite groups of images.

2. Chance- Also from the first season of I Love New York, Chance is the yin to Mr. Boston’s yang, or as he would probably put it, ‘wang.’ Chance is the lead singer, muscle, spiritual advisor, caterer, key grip, body oil applicator, and general carpenter of the Stallionaires, the finest R & B/ comedy troupe to come out of a mid-summer basic-cable match-making show whose only contribution to society was the discovery of at least fourteen different venereal diseases. Chance, along with his ‘alliance’ of Real and Whiteboy, is impossible not to watch. Whether it be his tireless shit-talking to people, refusal to take off his head band, or very innocent love of horses (hence the group name), Chance has the ability to be the catalyst in the middle of an awkward situation, as well as be the spitter of Eugene O’ Neill-esque word-play to properly comment on past transgressions. While he may be gone for now, I have the feeling Chance of Love would be a hit of epic proportions. Favorite moment: Not from I Love Money, but a diss rap about Tango, the man who stole New York’s love in the first I Love New York.

3. Midget Mac- If Mr. Boston is sort of funny for the focus of an episode, and Chance would be great for a season of his own show, Midget Mac should be given his own sort of medium- some sort of holographic device so that he could be crawl around you at all times and spurt his impossible to decipher Northern-People-Probably-Think-This-Is-How-Southern-People-Talk accent. Midget Mac, who is in fact a midget with a heart of gold and a liver of a 80 pound mammal, is without doubt the best creation of Reality television⁸. In his one episode appearance on I Love Money, Midget Mac got hammered, refused to participate in the episode’s challenge because he “ain’t wearing no panties,” terrified every air-head white girl there with his Budget BET Leprechaun movie look, and told another contestant “I got more money than you and your motherfucking kid.” I’m pretty sure this is why Edison envisioned the moving image. Favorite moment: Midget Mac clips are somewhat rare because of his usually quick exit from the shows he appears on, but this is pretty classic (listen particularly to the background voices).

From G’s to Gents- The most noticeable problem with From G’s To Gents is that most of the characters come across the exact same. It is obvious they all fit MTV’s (a company owned by global, multi-billion dollar company) definition of “g,” but as a consequence, the extent of the crap-talking is pretty basic. Nonetheless, I found three:

1. Stan- Stan is an ex-stripper and possible gigolo, who felt compelled to come to the show because he was trying to better himself and stop objec…. uh fuck it, he even said “I just want to make $100,000 without having to take my clothes off.” This does sound all well and good, until a tirade discussing how he has a Hummer, Lexus, and a house all paid for due to his exquisite man-whoring skills makes the questioning audience member wonder about Stan’s intentions. This is about as varied as From G’s to Gents gets.

2. Creepa- While most of these guys on the show do give the appearance of somebody you wouldn’t really want to see on a dark street corner in the city, at first I actually felt a little uncomfortable looking Creepa in his eyes on TV. He just gives me this sort of paranoid sensation that he could just look at me from inside the television and say something like “Nick, I’m going to get you, and I’m going to kiss you before I strangle you. Love, Creepa,” as if he were some blind person’s representation of a ghetto Freddy Kruger. Creepa, whose occupation is “goon,” or “paid to intimidate,” comes across as your stereotypical South Florida thug. From his gumball-machine grill to his eclipse viewers which he so urbanly refers to as “hater blockers,” the more I see of Creepa, the more I am starting to think he is actually fresh out of Julliard, watched a season of Oz, and figured this was as good a way as any to get into the business. Nonetheless, his choking technique was outstanding.

3. T Jones- If I were to actually hang out with any of these brainiacs, one would not have to look much further than T Jones. First, that is also the nickname of Thomas Jones, a personal favorite football player. Secondly, he is fat, goofy, and laid-back, so I wouldn’t be afraid of him abruptly trying to rip me off or kick my ass (thank you Cee). Thirdly, he has worked at every major fast food restaurant in Greater Detroit- not exactly common ground between us, but you know that man has seen some events unfold in front of his eyes while closing up White Castle. Fourthly, he is unemployed, which I too have been at points in time. Fifthly, he loves alcohol almost to a fault, which sounds exactly like me. And, finally, I’d hope that after he wins the contest (my prediction) that me and him could go to the gas station and buy 20,000 $5 scratch-off lottery tickets. First you get the money, then you get the “Five Ways to Win,” and then, and only then, do you get the women.

All things considered, the variety offered on I Love Money is simply too great.

Let’s Fight! Unsurprisingly, both of these shows share a producer, and much of the humor is derived from the editing process, so it comes down to a question of what I like more: a television show that embarrasses people on MTV or VH1. While G’s to Gents is a show worth every second of your attention, the parts that try to emphasize making these men into “gentlemen” are just too much. Sure, a gentleman needs to know how to make wise economic decisions and how to talk properly to the fairer sex- but if the point of this show is to make them a success, let’s first focus on getting the grills off their teeth, teaching them how to speak properly, and then maybe pursuing some GEDs, naval enlistments, or for the savvy, ECPI classes. I don’t know much about success, but that seems to a more solid plan of attack then assume you will find the right person to hustle at the right time. I Love Money, however, is relentless on showing what the desperate will do for some green- and it works, especially considering the contestants were the ones spouting about “alliances” since day one (newsflash: only one person can win- take a note from Royal Tenenbaum). I Love Money wins because it does not have a forced, inflated view of what it is, although don’t tell Creepa- that dude would wear my backbone as a necktie.

1 Clueless as to how this lead to Stalin killing millions of people

2 In other words, I want this to be more meaningful than it really is

3 And God knows Audrina is attractive- look up the nude photos on your own watch, I’m at work

4 This is a club in Richmond where a lot of these American treasures come and “perform” or whatever you want to call it. Essentially they get paid about $500 a night to go be ridiculed by people who think they are so lame that they bought a ticket to see them

5 Who, I think, is the only Oscar winner to be in both Stealth and Booty Call

6 Not real name, Sorry

7 Sorry, no ‘er’ in the word

8 I acknowledge that isn’t too great of a feat- all he had to do was beat out “You’re Fired,” the time Vern Troyer got bombed on Surreal Life, and when Sebastian Bach beat the crap out of Evan Sheffield

Versus Number Eight

The Onion’s “A.V. Club” is my vote for best light criticism on the internet, a lofty perch amongst a thick market¹. For the movie nerd, one of the most intriguing features the AV Club offers is “The New Cult Canon,” an article that usually gives due illumination to an older film that deserves it. While some of these retrospects can be misguided in topic², the reviewers usually do an excellent job of pointing out flaws, random points, and absurdities with a vigor that should be applauded (these articles make my articles look like the fortunes from a cookie in length). More refreshing is simply seeing a force out there sticking up for bona-fide film classics like Wet Hot American Summer or Sexy Beast, films most of us would not find unless given a suggestion or really, really stoned and bored at Blockbuster. For the month of July, in honor of the month that spells over-night camp for many unappreciative tikes across the country, the theme of all the “The New Cult Canon” articles revolve around ‘camp’ movies.

When I hear the word ‘camp,’ one person comes to mind: John Waters. For those not familiar with the pencil-thin mustached auteur from Baltimore, you are probably familiar with some of his films, which vary from social commentary with Hairspray (the original film, not that thing with Travolta embarrassing the flawless legacy of the powerful Xenu) to darker comedy cult classics like Serial Mom. His association with the word has little do with his niche film-making, it actually has to deal with the character he played in the “Homer’s Phobia” episode of The Simpsons. In the episode Waters plays (novelty alert) John, proprietor of Cockamamie’s, an antiques collectibles shop in the mall where one can find things such as 50’s laser guns and other items whose lack of quality gave them an “ironic” value. Surprisingly rational Homer, stunned by all the revenue generated by sub-standard junk, questions John:

John: But this is the Rex Mars Atomic Discombobulator. Don't you just

love the graphics on this box?

Homer: No. How can you love a box, or a toy or graphics? You're a grown

man.

John: It's camp!

[Homer stares nonplussed]

The tragically ludicrous? The ludicrously tragic?

Homer: Oh, yeah. Like when a clown dies.

So, you just read that paragraph and lines of dialogue for a simple definition which I could have just as easily described as “gay dude from Simpsons thinks ‘camp’ means intentionally stupid,” but shitty thing for you is that I rarely use the delete button.

With a firm definition of ‘camp’ in hand, I bring you:

Versus Number Eight: Showgirls versus Blue Velvet

Now, before you start assuming that I will pick Showgirls automatically as a way of poking a hole in the mass perception that Blue Velvet is a masterpiece and Showgirls has scenes like this in it, let me assure you, Blue Velvet is a considerably better film- perhaps the best film of the 1980’s³. That being said, both films are absolutely fucking ridiculous- which seems like a good enough reason to me for them to weigh them against one another.

Story: If you ever want to know why I think Jiminy Glick Goes to Hollywood is an unsung comedy classic, it mostly deals with Martin Short’s handling of David Lynch, the director/writer of Blue Velvet, one of the strangest people to grace the planet since Rasputin, although his responsible-for-death count is only about a quarter of the size. Blue Velvet revolves around Jeffrey, a relatively innocent, Heineken-swigging college student who comes home to care for his ill father in their smaller suburban neighborhood. After finding an ear (yep, an ear) in an idyllic yard⁴, Jeffrey finds himself neck deep in a world of kidnapping, corruption, rape, sado-masochism, murder, and Dennis Hopper huffing some unnamed gas that must remind him of off-time on the set of Easy Rider. Realizing that my plot synopsis is vague, I will say that hinting at any other plot points will ruin the movie. That being said, the end’s over-the-top cynicism of “everything turning out alright” can only be interpreted as a pointed belly-laugh at a dumbed down Studio system’s narrative structure. The film as a whole is like a noir-film on acid yet at the same time its setting retains a logic that makes it much comprehensible than some of Lynch’s other works (ahem). This film is Lynch’s masterpiece, but describing it does it little justice (“Hit Me! Hit Me!” loses some of its resonance when blogged about as opposed to when heard screamed by a dead-inside damsel)- just see it- you may not like it, but you won’t forget it.

On the other end of the spectrum, you have Showgirls, a film whose story is so simple one must feel it is playing off the aforementioned Hollywood clichés. Our story begins with Nomi Malone a.k.a Elizabeth Berkely a.k.a. Jessie Spano⁵, a down-on-her-luck girl whose ultimate dream is to become a dancer- a certainly achievable, if difficult wish to fulfill for a girl of her bountiful assets⁶ and always-handy switchblade.⁷ Instead of going the route of classical dancing and perhaps going to a Moscow, New York, Paris, or even Los Angeles, Malone decides the best place to pursue an art form defined by grace and eloquence is…. the same place you can have a steak dinner for a dollar and get an STD quicker than you can say the three letters⁸. Shockingly, there are few opportunities for the classically-trained dancer around the neon-lit strip, so Nomi in an attempt to subsist to the best of her ability, decides to go work for the local strip club, awesomely named “Cheetah’s.” Through various connections, Nomi befriends Molly, a seamstress lesbian who takes in Nomi for the occasional when-she’s-asleep-I-might-as-well-smell-her-panties. Somehow, Molly gets Nomi an audition for Stardust, an erotica-show that the movie insists would be a hit in Vegas but what really looks like the stage-version of the pornos that used to be televised on Cinemax in the early 1990s. Nomi quickly battles with Cristal Connors, the HBIC of the production, which eventually leads to Cristal being pushed down stairs by an ultra- jealous Nomi. Long story short, Nomi rises to fame (surprise!), realizes its not all its cracked to be (surprise!), and decides to move to greener pastures (surprise!), in this case L.A. to pursue an acting career, because, you know, Southern California has never been considered anything but the zenith of respectability. The original script, written by Joe Eszterhas (Basic Instinct), was a $2 million piece of shit or brilliance, depending on to whom you are talking. Oh, and there is a rape scene in it that is twice as sickening as Clockwork Orange, surprisingly a no show in memorable horrifying movie moments.

Characters (only 3 a piece)

Blue Velvet

- Jeffrey Beaumont (Kyle MacLachlan)- Deep, interesting character. In the first fifteen minutes one think he is nothing more than a bland concerned son and yuppie, until one realizes the obsession with which he pursues that which he is searching. His disgust with the grotesque underworld quickly becomes a perverse attraction, seen by his willingness to perform some unsavory love acts. While a moving scene of self-reflection shows that Jeffrey is not one of the seedy customers that inhabit Blue Velvet’s world, the movie’s conclusion shows he is not about above it either.

- Dorothy Vallens (Isabella Rossellini)- Characters like this are why David Lynch will always have a job in the film industry but never will be as financially successful as the Brett Ratners⁹. The wife/ mother of a kidnapped husband/ son, Rossellini’s character could easily by a doctorate dissertation in psychology in of herself. Her obsession with pain, sex, and loneliness makes her completely collapse on herself like a celestial body. The femme fatale of the film, she plays the role helplessly as opposed to seductively, a trait that clearly separates her from the more classic noir dames, whose confidence amongst chaos always felt, well, fictional.

- Frank Booth (Dennis Hopper)- One of the best thought out, terrifyingly executed, nefarious, vindictive, vulnerable characters in film history, this was the role that saved Hopper’s career from years of excess. Frank Booth’s vernacular makes Jules from Pulp Fiction seem prude by comparison. His recklessness with violence as well as his completely joyless attitude towards sex seem to convey a vision from Lynch’s America which is focused on hate and destruction, not surprising considering many left-leaning filmmakers during this time viewed Reagan as some sort of Hell-beast with the blood of Soviets and minorities pouring through his gills. Simply Put: “Fucking PBR!”

Showgirls

- James Smith (Glenn Plummer)- The one man that believes that Nomi is more than a stripper, but rather has the skills to be a dignified dancer. Until you see this “dignified dance,”¹⁰ which made the smooth moves of You Got Served look like the awkward white kids at Cotillion- the dance is literally her thrusting her pelvis in his face for about two minutes. Then the viewer finds out that James isn’t just all choreography and good intentions- in fact, he uses the “dignified dance” line to all the strippers! He even gets one pregnant, and disappears from the movie. This is the genius/ stupidity of this film- his character is entertaining and morally corrupt, but is not consequential at all to the overall film. Like much of the film, he could have been edited out and no one would have been the wiser.

- Zack Carey (Kyle MacLachlan)- Ah, MacLachlan, you show up again. If his character in Blue Velvet is about the typical American’s secret obsession with the darkness inherent in our nature, his character in Showgirls is about being a coke-blowing asshole yuppie who is the man. Zack is the entertainment manager of Stardust and dater to every hot piece of quasi- lesbian ass to come through his casino. His character, and this is the sign of every great villain, just looks like a dick- like he’d sell you and three like you to a Burmanese¹¹ gorilla squad for Thanksgiving. He also has the three traits of every great movie villain (even though he’s not really a villain per se, he’s just a dick): he’s not loyal, he does cocaine, and he is implicit in a rape. The only thing that would have made him better is if after Nomi spat in his face he yelled “Yeah, well you’ll never work in this town again; and by the way, I wasn’t wearing a condom!”

- Nomi Malone- What can you say. I guess I might as well admit that I think that there is a genius to Showgirls, although it often fights itself to get out onto the screen. That being said, this character is evidently a metaphor for imbecility and naivety of the American dream. She reminds me of a bit on a David Cross album¹² where he describes all of these millions of people in L.A., all of whom think they are the next Brad Pitt, Steven Spielberg, or Madonna, and the absurdity of thinking they even have a chance. Throughout the course of the movie, she is naked for about 15 percent of it, and as dumb as a fucking Extra reporter for one hundred percent. First move, she thinks she will automatically get picked up in Vegas because of her statuesque body and talent. Update: anybody that goes to Vegas has a breast augmentation at least, and when your real discernible talent is being able to imitate intimacy¹³, you are not exactly alone in your status in Sin City. Stupidity number two: pushes down Cristil in front of at least 200 people, and yet somehow gets away with it. Three: Breaks up Cristil and her boyfriend, but fully suspects for him to be faithful to her, even though he is a known womanizer and drug addict. Four: when head dancer of Stardust, a position that presumably would pay in the millions, she continues to live in a trailer. Five: she treats her stripper boss/ pimp and obese stripper friend as though family. At least when she does cocaine she has a little excuse as to why she is an idiot- but Freud argued it brought out one’s real emotions, so perhaps she really is as dumb as a rock’s dump. Berkley was paid $100,000 for the film (1/20 of the screen-writer), and when she asked for a $2,500 interview fee for the DVD, the producers declined.

Conclusion: So, why compare these two films when one is considered a modern classic and the other one is known for the amount of Razzie wins it got? Because I think both films are saying the same thing. Clearly, Blue Velvet is about the underbelly of American society that we try to turn a blind eye (or ear- high five!) to, and yet we are so intrigued by. If I’m talking to a group of coworkers or friends at lunch, everything unsavory be damned- drugs, prostitues, violence, etc. But, I would be lying if I were to say I’ve never been in a strip club, never shot a gun, never done drugs- and I am not the exception on this. Blue Velvet, at its basest, investigates this duality and how we as people somehow weave such much marvelous yarns to fool others. When I commented earlier about the overly perfect ending, it is because at the end of the film, no body seems effected at all by the events- Dorothy, who had been a sex slave and abused for who knows how long, is seen with a radiance of a woman in the “after” shot of feminine product commercial. Jeffrey and his girlfriend profess their love even though both had been exposed to some of the world’s ugliest realities. It’s an ending Lynch nails- because while everybody seems so content with their now “resolved” lives, there are clearly consequences coming from these actions- its like Lynch saying to Hollywood “look, you wanted this nice ending where the bad guys die and the nice guy ‘wins,’ I’m just going to film it suggesting that there is no feeling of finality that can be completely sincere- the past is always with us.” And this is where I see the similarities to Showgirls. Showgirls goes the more obvious route to hit this soul of darkness, merely by setting the film in a city whose nickname implies its OK to go ape-shit in a desert of immorality. It’s a place where the oppressed urges of Blue Velvet come to the forefront (Jeffrey could easily be Zack in ten years), but with lack of morality comes lack of understanding, and that is certainly one trait all the characters in Showgirls exhibit beautifully- arrogant ignorance. In the end, I think both filmmakers are alluding to the fact that these people are not only crushing their hopeless lives, they are also slowly chipping away at the moral fabric of America. Then again, that is a foundation typically criticized now because it is based in Judeo- Christian values which did a pretty good job of ostracizing plenty groups of people in the past. One of these camp films would do John Waters’ definitions proud- Showgirls is ludicrously tragic and tragically ludicrous but at an arm’s length way where we simply regard these things as so outrageous that they are under the breath funny; much like the laser guns from the 50s are funny because they show our love towards violence and our wild ideas about what the coming space age would be. Blue Velvet is just as ludicrous but does it in more of a subdued way reflective of the setting (suburbia versus burlesque dancing clubs of Vegas). Blue Velvet is clearly the better film, but both are certainly genius in their own right. Oh, and if you are counting, anytime there is a violent rape scene in a movie, its typically anti- American (and, hate to say it, awesome).

1 If you don’t believe my statement that the world of internet criticism is bloated, check out metacritic.com and see how many reputable entities there are, not to mention the bored-as-piss work drones like myself that try to add to this repetitive (“Wow! You thought No Country For Old Men was good too?”) journalistic genre

2 I still think Boondocks Saints was a pretty fucking terrible flick

3 Excluding, of course, the entirety of Van Damme’s films during this period, Back to the Future, Full Metal Jacket, and Raging Bull

4 Symbolism! Alright!

5 a.k.a. this movie would have been substantially more succesful if dreamy Tiffany Amber- Thiessen decided to show off her cans for this steamy showcase

6 Hi Yo!

7 Where does she hide that thing?

8 Vegas

9 Oh, I get it! Black people really like music, and their car stereos, so seemingly innocuous Asian people better not touch that man’s radio!

10 Sorry for the lack of clips for Showgirls, but youtube is usually pretty calm about the nudity, which the movie has a lot of

11 Sorry, been on a Rambo kick recently

12 Where he, surprisingly, wasn’t mentioning some sort of necrophilia

13 Which she is awesome at- I always thought Tori from Saved would be the rough one