The Wicker Man

Last night, I watched Nicholas Cage's biopic, The Wicker Man. It's about his life after film, in which he entered law enforcement, struggled with depression for vague reasons, and reconnected with his estranged wife and daughter. Really, it wasn't as bad as I thought it was going to be. Cage was his usual subtle self, enunciating his lines with an evocative clarity, and really bringing his character (himself) to life like never before.

Well, it's Nicholas Cage, so, you can imagine the quality of acting he puts into a work that's based on his own life experiences.

It interestingly enough doesn't give much backstory to Cage's departure from Hollywood, but we catch on quickly as he has moved on to be a highway patrolman in northern California. It did not explain why exactly he decided to go into law enforcement from film, which would be an essential part of a biopic, and really the most exciting part of his life. Think of it: an actor adjusting from action movies like ConAir and The Rock to the real-life drudgery of law enforcement. There's an exciting drama; adjusting to slowing down and living a new life.

Perhaps that's why he gets depressed early on? He does (more or less) witness a graphic death on the road, but it seems to have little impact on him, other than giving him something dramatic to think about for a while. But really, you can tell, it's the boredom of daily office routine and having only work-friends that hits him hardest and sends him spiraling into depression. That's going along with the essential drama here, of a guy who lived in Hollywood and had to settle down in northern Cali at a job that he thought would be exciting, but wasn't. EXACTLY! That's it! he's bored, and when he does finally encounter something interesting (mom and daughter dying in a fiery wreck), it gives him the itch for action again!

So then, get this, his ex sends him a letter saying "Hey, come to this non-creepy place (that's TOTALLY creepy) and find my daughter, who isn't yours (she's yours, you'll see it coming), and I'll totally give you some excitement." Okay, she doesn't say that last part, but it's IMPLIED, big time!

And of course, he goes, because he's gotta get his rock and roll on.

The rest of his life story gets a little fuzzy at this point. He befriends all the women on the island immediately, because he's just so damn charming (he's Nicholas Cage). He finds a girl who looks like the missing/dead/not really dead at all (gasp!) girl, but isn't. Gets stung by a LOT of bees for little to no reason. Hallucinates about dead people who aren't actually dead. Gets burned alive at one point. Gets stung by MORE bees. Turns into a bear and punches a woman.

Then his life actually got interesting: turns out, he was a robot sent from the future to save his daughter's life from another time-travelling robot. He ultimately has a showdown in a smelting plant (or something; they were unclear on what exactly it was), in which he says "bye" to the other future robot (which is all liquidy) by shooting him/her into a boiling vat of lava. His gives Edward Furlong a thumbs-up and says "I know now why you cry" as Eddy lowers him down into the very lava that killed the T-1000.

And yay, the future is saved, thanks to Nicholas Cage! All in all, the first half of the movie was lame, but it picked up once it turned out he was a robot. You should rent it, and watch it with Rifftrax.

Click the ads; I'm out!

Packing & The Best Wine I Ever Had

I am awesome at packing!

Like, really good.

I don't mess around with any of that "sorting by room" crap. I just throw whatever into boxes over and over again until I'm done. Boom: awesome. I felt like a genius when I discovered that I could use clothing as padding. So yeah, that's why my champagne flutes are wrapped in socks. Don't give me that look!

Seriously though, I'm terrible at packing and am not looking forward to having to unpack any of this (I'm moving a few states over, for those of you who don't know). I've had a week to pack and it in no way would take me an actual week of time to pack it all, so of course, I put it off. That and the cleaning (mold is pretty much all over the place here in Arkansas). And of course, now, I only have a few days to pack everything and clean everything too. So I got most of it done in one day, like ya do. The side-effect of this particular method, though, is that everything's a jumbled mess and I already forgot where the hell my stamps are!

not cool, Chance; not cool

The first step, of course, is donating all the stuff I don't want or use any more (done twice so far). Next, is the throwing away all the stuff that's trash, but collectible, or memorable, but essentially junk for which I have no use. Most of that process is easy, but there's the memento value in these objects. The best example I have is bottles of wine and liquor I really liked. Once drank, little remains of the liquor but the memory of it tingling our tastebuds. Nice line; quote that shit. I was carrying out those empty bottles, when I recognized the one small one remaining in my hand. It was wine from Parallel 44; their "Meditation" wine from 2007. This stuff was the best wine I've ever had, hands-down and no contest. This amazingly luxurious texture accompanied a deep, dark cherry and chocolate flavor that lingered for hours. It was good, and I will never forget the first time I had it. I won't forget any of the other times, either, but they were all a little off, and never quite matched the explosive experience of that first bottle (the cheesecake accompanying helped, too, but that's a small detail). Not only can I never find that wine any more, but even if I can, I do not expect the same overwhelming flavor of that first bottle.

Sad as that is, I will never forget it, and the fact that I cannot repeat it again makes it even more powerful a memory. It becomes all the more beautiful an experience for that one moment it existed.

So that was in my mind, as I was about to toss the bottle away. I knew I wouldn't forget that amazing flavor, that the bottle would be an idle memento. But still, it was a good moment, and it deserves its idol. So that trash, I will pack and take with me, along with its memory.

Good night, all y'all's, and click some ads (close them the moment they open a new page).

Rules (bonus: review of Can't Hardly Wait)

Hokai, so, I need to pace myself with these things. I mean, sure, I can write nonstop, but I don't want to burn myself out. Or burn out all y'alls readers with too many words. People don't like words, not on the internet. They're heavy. And they're slow. And nobody likes a slow internets.

So this'll be quick this time, after my yesterday's essay. (scroll down for the review of Can't Hardly Wait ... you can also click on all the ads several times; it may help)

I'd like to have some ground rules for Triple-Stamped. Not written in stone or anything, but more like spiritual guidelines to direct each post. Saying it that way sounds weird, though, as if voodoo or Oprah were involved somehow. As a society, we have a vague (at best) understanding of the word "spirit" and all things spiritual in general. I'm not saying I'm going to light some candles or listen to some crystals or anything... I'm just saying: we don't get it. But that's a deeper topic for another post (a "The More You Know" post).

Tonight: the six rules of Triple Stamped!*

1: There are no rules

2: No, really, there actually are rules; I've just wanted to say that (wasn't all I hoped it was)

3: You do talk about Triple-Stamped

4: One post a day

5: Don't be afraid of the heavy stuff

6: Keep it fun

G) rules are made to be broken

* subject to change at any moment and with or without notice

And now: the review of the 1998 modern classic of our generation: Can't Hardly Wait.

Watch it (why not; it's on Netflix right now). The story's one we're all familiar with by now, since it was successful in its time, repeated, and then spoofed (repeatedly). So you won't be surprised, even if you miraculously haven't already seen it. But what very well may be surprising to you (as it was to me) is the sheer number of actors you will recognize in this movie! Jennifer Love Hewitt aside, there's Charlie Korsmo, Peter Facinelli, Seth Green, Donald Faison, Jaime Pressley, Jason Segel (seriously), Selma Blair, Steve Monroe, Chris Owens, Jenna Elfman, Breckin Meyer, and of course Jerry O'Connell. Many of these names you won't know, but IMDB them and you'll know their faces and start remembering the movies you've seen them in. Watching this movie, literally over a decade after it came out, is like visiting a highschool party after you've been to college. You recognize faces but not the names, spending the movie trying to figure out why you know them. It's a cool experience, but the best part is, that's exactly the experience of one of the characters in the movie!! But it's a messed-up feeling because that character's played by Jerry O'Connell... and nobody wants to relate to him. Dude peaked at Stand By Me. Bonus points, though: main character (if there is one) is played by a dude who looks just like a young Jay Mohr (but isn't)! Oh, and there's the wonderful 90's soundtrack with an inordinate amount of Smashmouth. Who doesn't love that?

Anyway, click the ads on your way out!

Leaving, part One (Bonus: sawn-off review of "World War Z")

You ever get the sense that a state is convincing you to leave and never return? Not in the sense of being railroaded out of town, or tarred and feathered, but little things.

[Scroll down for the spoiler-free sawn-off review of World War Z]

I was driving a route I've gone about once a week for the past two years, which half of Conway drives to work and back in Little Rock, when I almost got into an accident. Part of me isn't surprised, because when I moved here, my insurance rates jumped up a good chunk. That suggests bad drivers, sorry, and it was confirmed when I actually saw people "drive." Forget about the rushing through yellow lights, or even outright blowing through the reds, that's too expected for people here. No, I saw a guy make a U-turn in the middle of a busy road, weaving around what traffic he wasn't blocking! He was ten feet past the intersection (which allows U-turns legally, but that's another story), and just fifty from an actual parking lot in which he could safely turn about. But no, he HAD to turn RIGHT THERE. 

That's one story from this week, and one smidgen of evidence suggesting Arkansas needs to require a driver's education class.

Thankfully, I wasn't near a collision there. A few days ago, however, I was almost in a pile-up. Yep, thanks to some late braking by the pair of idiots in front of me at the time, we all had to engage in a tactical swerve to a staggered-line formation for safety. They went left and right, and I went right then left and deftly avoided the semi to my right and the ditch to my left, all while pulsing, pumping, and finally slamming my brakes to keep myself out of their cars. I thanked the god of anti-lock brakes and the god of attentive drivers for existing, that day (they happen to be the same god (God), who happens to be the God of Everything, which includes anti-lock brakes and attentive drivers). And of course, I do what everybody does when the cause becomes apparent: I looked. Did I see a grisly car wreck? How about our president, handing out money? Or perhaps Johnny Cash, not so dead? Of course not. So what caused the unnecessary and sudden slow-down? A young girl got pulled over. She was wearing jean-shorts that looked homemade. That's about it.

At least it wasn't nothing (that's happened way too often already).

Then later, THAT SAME DAY, I was turning right, onto a main road, when Bozo McOld decided to pull out in front of me from the bank opposite me. It was an aggressive maneuver, which I can respect, but it did require that I slam on my brakes (and same for Dude behind me) when he realized what he was doing and then immediately apologized by SLAMMING on his brakes in the MIDDLE of four lanes. I'm not kidding; he took up the entire street. Now, had he gunned it from the get-go, everything would've been fine. So it just goes to show you that half-measures don't cook, and that it's better to be an ass-hole than just an ass.

That's not the worst, though. Once, I saw a driver work VERY VERY hard to pull a u-turn to go the wrong way down an offramp. He worked for that shit. And there's a particular stretch of highway in Little Rock that I've witnessed, I kid you not, a delivery truck (big sized) pointed the WRONG WAY (toward me!), and suddenly fix his error and about-face. That was in my first month of living here (welcome to Arkansas; we don't require a driver's education course).

And that's just the road-safety stuff.

Today, I saw World War Z (It was okay, but not nearly dark enough to be a proper zombie horror, and not light enough to be a proper zombie comedy. Shaun of the Dead, Zombieland, 28 Days Later, The Walking Dead: those are proper zombie movies/shows and you should watch them all twice. This movie fell short of greatness, but was good for eight bucks' fun. Not worth 3D, but worth the big screen.) After the (decent) movie, there was an encounter between two women in the audience that was honestly more tense and exciting than anything that happened on screen. Many a "fatass" was slung in that discussion, and I was convinced that yes indeed, Arkansas is convincing me to never return.

The places we live, they shape us, but there isn't much of Arkansas I want to take with me wherever I go (that stuff will be covered on a later post; this one is about bad drivers). As always, I'll close with this: Click the ads! All of them! Many times!