R.I.P. Geroge Carlin

He was one of my favorites.

In Theaters Tomorrow

As you will soon learn I'm a huge movie buff. So much so that I spend portions of my free time writing scripts that I'll never finish. "In Theaters Tomorrow" is a weekly post where I'll attempt to give you a little insight into which movies I think will be good and which will be bad and descriptions of each movie. I have not seen any of these movies prior to release and these previews should be taken with a grain of salt... I just spend a lot of time looking at little bits of news about movies that may have slipped past you and given me better insight into the quality of the film.

For Friday June 20th

Get Smart is a movie that both scares and delights me. I'm excited about this film because I spent a good portion of my childhood watching reruns of this show on nick at night with my grandma. Grandma and I watched Maxwell Smart, agent 99 and the chief religiously when I was down visiting. I'm also a huge Mel Brooks fan. I'm also a huge fan of whoever cast this film... Steve Carrell is one of the funniest men in the business and a perfect fit for the buffoonish Smart, Alan Arkin is fantastic and Anne Hathaway is not only extremely beautiful but also a great actress others I like who have been cast in the film include a personal favorite in Bill Murray, Patrick Warburton, Masi Oka, Terry Crews, James Caan and David Koechner. My problem is that I'm not sure this film can live up to the greatness of the original show. Peter Segal is the director and the only other film he's directed that I liked was Tommy Boy. I don't like "The Rock" in this film for 2 reasons...1) because he is an added character that didn't exist in the original and 2) I just don't like the rock. Did I mention that the writers have only written Failure To Launch and a few television shows that didn't stick out? I'm not sure if this film is about KAOS or will be chaos.

The other big film out this week is The Love Guru. This is Mike Myers first original character since Austin Powers, but I'm afraid its way off target. The trailer doesn't bother to set up any type of plot or explain how Jessica Alba and Justin Timberlake fit into the film. Apparently Myer's character is an American who has been raised in India by gurus. He has now returned to the states to break into the self-help and spiritual business. His first big task is to get a star hockey player's (Romany Malco of Weeds fame) estranged wife back from a rival hockey player (Timberlake, whom I think is actually a good actor) before the Stanley Cup. If you're wondering Alba is the owner of the hockey team that Malco plays for and Verne Troyer is the coach. Also in the cast is Jim Gaffigan, Stephen Colbert, Ben Kingsley (?) and cameos from Kanye West, Jessica Simpson and Depock Chopra.

Maybe around Christmas I'll rent You don't Mess with the Zohan and these two that came out this week and have a marathon of summer movies that missed the mark (even though Zohan has done well at the theater I'm just not that interested in it.

The other two films opening this week are opening in limited release and don't interest me enough to deserve words. They are Kit Kitterage: and American Girl and Brick Lane.

I have no more favors to give

I've got a good friend whom I'll call "Dick" who recently asked me for a favor. I am one of those unfortunate human beings who far too often is accommodating when such requests are made. "Dick" is one of those people who thinks there is no unreasonable favor. I know this, but for some reason I always agree to help him out... in fact, not too long ago he ask a favor at a friend's wedding and that too was far more difficult than initially assumed. After that request I told my only other sensible friend within that particular circle that I would never again agree to one of "Dick's" incredible adventures in friendship, but here I am less than a month later bitching to no one in particular in a far corner of the Internet that will never be perused. On to the story.

"Dick" tends to offer about 25% of the information before pausing for a yea or a nay. His request was simple - "Benny, I need to return 2 trash cans and I'm going to be taking off for Ohio tomorrow. You've got a truck... Can you help me out?" I say yes thinking this sounds like a fairly simple task.

I didn't want to do it in the first place but I feel about the status of our friendship... it is a skeleton of what it once was and he was the one who welcomed me when I moved to this podunk fucking town way back when. We were best friends. He introduced me to every one of the people I now consider my best friends. We went to high school and college and even lived together for a year, but he stayed the exact same person and I grew. I realized that I hated the people he was good friends with and later on realized that I hated about 78% of the conversations I had with him. I hate to admit it but "Dick" is a tool. That's one reason he's been given that particular faux name... The other is because it where his brain is located.

When Dick calls me with all of the information I come to the conclusion that he has neglected to tell me that the garbage cans need to be returned to a place in a town that's 30 miles away. There is a goddamn sanitation place located in our home town, what the fuck is he doing going all the way out there in the first place? I say fine, but this is the last time- like always. When I get down to the bar where he works on the weekends to pick up these cans I notice that "dick's" math is now at the level of a 2 year-old. I've got 3 cans, not 2 and I've got a Ford Ranger, not a real truck. Two cans is doable, even easy but three is impossible and I knew it right then even though I proceeded. I didn't even bother to grab rope knowing that both would fit right in my bed and my leather cover would hold them down. I finally get the puzzle that is my garbage situation jammed together and go about a half a mile down the road in search of a place that sells rope.

Ace Hardware, Target and Walmart are too far away and the buckets scare me too much to go any further than I did. I happened to wonder into a place that my father used to manage not too long ago and where I worked for most of high school. The task is simple... all I want is some clothing line type rope, the tensile strength doesn't have to be too high. I must first have a half hour conversation with a very nice woman that I didn't really want to talk to. I got the, "What are you up to? finish school? got a job? got a girlfriend?" interrogation line of questioning and a ton of useless information about her grandchildren whom I've never met. After all of this I finally get to ask my one question and am pointed in the direction of the dollar store. This does not bode well.

My choices are twine and a thin plastic coated stuff. I chose the plastic coated stuff and I chose wrong. I do what I think is a pretty god job securing all of the trash cans to my truck and make sure to thread the stuff through each nook and cranny a few times before finally taking off. I take off down highway 55 which stops in my hometown and feels no need to be larger than one lane going in each direction because of that. Where the town ends and the farm begins along 55 its very hilly and very bumpy. I hit one of those previously mentioned bumps and boom two cans immediately fly out. One lands on the rumble strip but the other is smack dab in the middle of the on coming traffic's lane. I'm reciting every single cuss word I've ever leaned as cars are swerving out of the way and I pull over to the shoulder and slam on the brakes.

When I jump out of the truck cars a swerving into the other lane and swerving onto the shoulder. I'd guess that no less than 5 lives were put in danger by my attempt to return "Dick's" trash cans for him. I chuck it into the middle of a highway (there is decent traffic regardless of it's number of lanes) and drag this can over to the other one. The wheels are all fucked up and I have to drag the cans down quite a ways to the next driveway so that I can go get some real rope to try and get these things back to their rightful home.

I go to Walmart and grab some real rope and get back to the driveway that I dropped the cans off at and put my puzzle back together and tie it up tight. I get back on the road and start going again and no more than 2 minutes pass before I hear WHAM! I look at my mirrors and see one of the cans has flipped out and is banging against the side of my truck. Motherfucker! Is there no end to this insanity?

I pull back into another driveway before I A) end up with more cans strewn across the road B) Dent the shit out of my truck or C) kill someone. At this point I'm sick and tired of this situation... It's been over an hour and a half and I've gone a grand total of 5 miles, I've got garbage juice all over my shirt and it wasn't even my problem to begin with. I take those fuckin' cans back out of the bed of my truck and bring them back one by one to that shitty bar that Dick is always bugging me to go have a beer at and find the owner. I explain the situation thats just occured and appalogise for being unable to finish the task. She says, " No problem, I'll just have them come and pick them up on Monday." MY BRAIN EXPLODES as I walk out that door. Why would Dick even bother calling if this was an option?

Beautiful Boy

I don't just read books- I devour them. "Beautiful Boy: A Father's Journey Through His Son's Meth Addiction" by David Sheff is the latest book I've completed. I started reading it because it was the latest book to be sold at Starbucks and I work at a very slow and boring store where I mostly close. During a regular closing shift I normally get through the front page and the sports page before even attempting to do anything other than serve coffee when someone stumbles in, so anytime we have a new book I'm in heaven.

Starbucks has a history of attaching their names to books with difficult subject matter. The book I read prior to "Beautiful Boy" was "The Kite Runner" and before that it was "A Long Way Home: Memoirs Of A Boy Soldier". Sheff's book was no different and hit closer to home, not just because the others were written about foreign countries, but because I live in a fairly rural area surrounded by farmland in the midwest... the type of area that has been hit hardest by this epidemic in recent years.

David Sheff's son's name is Nic, the product of a broken family and promising young man whose life is derailed. Nic Reminds me of myself so much that it's scary... The music and movies he likes, the level of intelligence and opportunity, the history of drug use and his age... we were born a few months apart. I have never and will never do Meth, but if given a copy of the book I could pinpoint the page where our paths deviate. The difference between myself and Nic is that when I walked into a former friend's house and found them lighting the bottom of a light bulb and sucking through a straw I turned to my friend who had accompanied me and said, " Maybe it's time to go... That's definitely not weed."

Up until his senior year of high school Nic had everything going for him, a family just outside of San Fransisco with his father's wife, Karen, and two younger siblings, Jasper and Daisey and a Mother in L.A. whom he spent his summers with. David paints a vivid portrait of his son's struggle with addiction and his struggle with his son's struggle. Beautiful Boy is at times heartbreaking and gut-wrenching, but no matter how bad it gets you must continue reading to know Nic's fate.

Lying, stealing, running away, sobering up, rehab, college, anger, frustration, hope and love are the recurring themes and from one page to the next the theme will change. Its a mirror image of the schizophrenic high of methamphetamine. Sheff researched the drug obsessively over the course of his child's addiction and at times will break from the story to inform the reader of how the drug works, rehab rates and other important information. He tells of the toll it took on the rest of the family and how hard it is to trust someone you love so much after going through such an ordeal.

I've seen this addiction take everything from a person, I graduated with two guys who took their own lives after falling into cycle of addiction (Sheff talks about Meth's tendancy to lead to suicide). These guys were not close friends of mine, but we had classes and socialized and I have fond memories of both. If you asked me to line up my entire senior class and pick out the two that would commit suicide due to methamphetemines they would have been among the last that I picked. This drug is evil and vile and is becoming increasingly more popular, which is a very scary thought. I can't believe that people would consider ingesting something that is made from some of the most toxic chemicals known to man, but I smoke ciggarettes and they are coated with similarly disgusting chemicals.

I highly suggest picking up "Beautiful Boy" and giving yourself a little insight into the newest poison of choice whether or not you have children. Nic is now sober (hopefully) and has written his own memoirs "Tweak: Growing Up On Methamphetemines." I plan on putting it on my list of things to read though it may be a while before I get a review to you.

The top 5 things that piss your Barrista off

#1. With a bullet... trying to break a fifty or hundred dollar bill on your $3.73 latte... Fuck you man, I only have $200 in my till and you want me to give you half of it?

#2. Telling me the size and name of the drink last when you want something complicated. I understand if you want nonfat milk and sugar-free syrup and what not, but I need to know what type of drink and what size you need first... those are the buttons we push first.

#3. Telling me you want a coffee at the speaker and waiting until the window of the drive though to clarify that you need cream and sugar in your "regular" coffee.

#4. Asking for an extra shot or some flavor in your latte after you've already paid. We know you're just trying to get a free modifier, man. Just pay the 35 extra cents.

#5. Telling me how horrible your life is at the moment. I wouldn't even ask you about your day if the Starbucks corporation didn't require me to. Listen, there are some of you that I really like, but for the most part I don't actually want to know about my customers every day lives; I'm just required to ask.

What will your tombstone say?

The about me section to the right says that my tombstone will read, "He wanted pepperoni on his tombstone." This is true, as soon as I have anything worth writing up a will for I will include a clause requiring that my burial place reads as I want it to. I might even include a fake story like the one on Royal Tenenbaum's grave- "Royal O'Reilly Tenenbaum (1932-2001) Died Tragically Rescuing His Family From The Remains Of A Destroyed Sinking Battleship."

The reason I'm writing this is because I was contacted earlier today by someone with a blog devoted entirely to slideshows. I was hesitant to ever include one of these slideshows in one of my posts until I came across one about devoted to epitaphs found on the gravestones of various celebrities. Having already stated what I would prefer people to read while standing on top of my rotting body I figured it would be fitting to show you other people who share my morbid sense of humor.

If you can't read the gravestones just click on the picture and it will send you to a link with a bigger shot.

The Danger of Trusting your GPS

A good friend of mine and I got into an argument a couple months back about the rise in use of GPS systems in cars. I said that people would become to attached to the machines and become lost without them. I backed my argument up by asking him to recite my cell phone number and he couldn't. My theory is that just as the use of cell phones has cleared the knowledge of phone number out of our heads GPS would clear out the directions that we've got stored in our minds.
I'm not suggesting that we'd automatically be lost on our way to the store down the road, but getting to a friends house in another city could become downright impossible if the GPS failed and one mysteriously had no phone on them.

The reason I'm writing this is because the Wall Street Journal recently did a write-up on a very similar subject.

As GPS devices spread, drivers are finding that satellite navigation may replace paper maps but not common sense. By blindly following the gadgets' not-always-reliable directions, they're getting lost, hitting dead ends, and even swerving into oncoming traffic.

It sounds like this is becoming a fairly serious problem and I have my own firsthand account. While on a road trip to Chicago with 3 friends we decided that it was time to stop for food in the middle on nowhere Wisconsin. We decided that we wanted to sit down and have a beer if possible as we were in no hurry so we started searching for something outside of the fast food spectrum using my friend B's GPS system. It was dark and snowy and the voice had just directed us off of the highway so we began joking about the cliche horror plot of getting lost in a small town full of murderers and malcontents. We took many turns and got a good 7 miles away from the highway before almost running over what looked like a wolf. At this point we began to get more concerned as we got further into the country with no evidence of a soon approaching town. When we arrived at the "restaurant" we saw only a rusting tractor on a vacant lot.

I think I'll stick to my maps and actually know when I'm lost.