Blog from the Future Past

After a big night out on the townies, Tiger Woods pulls wads of pubic hair from between his teeth with the new Gillette Mucho-Macho Hot Wing razor.

Love of the Game over perfumed blonde fine caboose, tossed mousse, eyes loose ti' yanks out a wood

I suppose most guys wouldn't be entirely unhappy to be playing some of the same holes Tiger Woods has been playing recently. Fortunately, some of us--somehow and somewhere--managed to acquire at least a modicum of moral restraint and have limits.

During all the formative years and endless hours Tiger Woods' and his father stalked their way through ten-thousands of golf rounds, what lessons did his father teach him? What did they talk about?

You gotta wonder.

As soon as the programming geniuses over at TnA heard Octomom Nadya Suleman openly assert an attraction for John Gosselin, they began burning the midnight oil on a new reality-based show they expect to be next year's blockbuster. TnA VP for New Concept Development, Hans Beerman, could hardly hold back his excitement as he explained his new concept, over lunch at the Four Seasons. "We're calling it Octo-Mom, Sexto-Kate and Balloon Boy," he told me, "And get this... as we speak, we're negotiating a deal with the Michael Jackson estate to film the entire series at Neverland and even get the Jackson kids to stop by and have breakfast with all twenty Suleman, Gosselin and Heene kids twice a week." "It's can't miss," he continued, "Because of the incentives." There's been a lot of talk around town about 'incentivizing' reality TV personalities much like professional athletes. A pitcher in baseball gets a little extra if he gets the Cy Young Award, for instance; or Michael Strahan got a hefty bonus for every leg he broke during the last half of his NFL career.

In case "Octo-Mom, Sexto-Kate and Balloon Boy" never comes to fruition, Richard Heene is working on a new concept show with the FEED NETWORK, introducing America to the culinary delights he loved as a child on the planet Blaxxon. In the series pilot yet to air, Richard and his Blaxxonian Mom Thxdra demonstrate techniques used to make Blaxxonian Hydrocloric Tungsten Curry, served on a crouton of white-hot steel plate and garnished with a chiffonade of cast-iron shavings and a spicy ground glass chutney.

This was the first time I heard a top network executive push incentivization openly as a way to improve program quality and viewer excitement. When I asked Beerman about details, he was happy to fill me in and proud of it.

"Every adult in the program will get a $50,000 bonus for participating in an affair that lasts at least three episodes, a $250,000 bonus for every pregnancy and an additional $250,000 for every live birth, provided we're allowed to broadcast the blessed event as it happens," he said.

Stunned, I asked what was behind these particular incentives. "Let's face it," Hans told me, "Viewers want sex, and lots of it. We have five adults: Nadya, Kate and John Gosselin and Richard and Mayumi Heene--at least until Falcon Heene and the Jackson kids reach the age of consent. We're hoping the cast will establish a series of rotating polyamorous relationships that will draw in the public. Did I mention that there's extra money for same sex relationships?"

"Your not serious?" I said, pretending to be surprised.

"Gays and bisexual relationships in a reality show pull in an enormous hate crowd in the red states," Hans explained.

After yours truly queried him further, Beerman denied rumored plans to incentivize episodes of beastiality, but then added, "Of course, the boundaries of the show's reality could always be revisited at a later date.

OMSKABB is slated to premiere in early January, after the holiday season.

TIMER MAGAZINE
"Gabriella Stompanazzi is Tinsel Town's primary source for
who is doing who, and which end they're doing it with..."

A virus born of bad hamburger infects the vast majority of mankind, turning them into crazed killers with a rabid craving for human flesh. There are only two kinds of people left in the world: roaming gangs of zombies with the super-munchies, and those who kill them--the remaining few who, by dumb luck or well-honed combat skills, have avoided the disease. If your taste in film includes the living dead slurping down sinewy human sashimi, then Zombieland might be just your kind of sick diversion. After a while, killing zombies gets to be wicked fun--their heads get crushed by SUV's and pianos, their limbs torn off and skulls splattered by high-power weapons fire. There's nothing to like about them... friggin' zombies. We enjoy watching zombies meet their ex-maker with a total lack of empathy, pity or remorse. As more blood flows and more gore globs, the laughter rises. You know what's going to happen, but that won't stop you from getting into this fast-paced chronicle of the great zombie genocide.

If it weren't for Harrelson's and Murray's big tickets, Zombieland would have cost about $19.99 plus a case of red food dye to produce.

Nerdy OCD college student 'Columbus', portrayed by Adventureland's Jesse Eisenberg, religiously observes a self-made set of rules that keep him alive: No. 6, for instance; Always check the back of the car; No.14 - Avoid public restrooms, etc. Making his way from college in Austin back east to his namesake hometown in Ohio, he hooks up with Tallahassee, cowboy zombie executioner par-excellance, who reluctantly allows the kid tag along.

As Tallahassee, Woody Harrelson resurrects his murderous character from Natural Born Killers, dealing out a double-deck of zombie death wearing his trademark pasted-on impish smirk. This role seemed remade for him.

"Mama always said someday I would be good at something.
Who would have thought it would be killing zombies?"

Now, even the best Zombie-killing buddy flick can be a drag without enough cool chicks to go around and a healthy dose of tight-jeans T & A. While Tallahassee obsessively rummages through what little remains of America in search of Hostess Twinkies, the boys meet up with the grifting sisters Wichita and Little Rock, who promptly relieve them of their hopped-up Escalade, their pride and their weapons. Of course Tallahassee and Columbus eventually chase down the girls, and after mutual mistrust melts away and a romance begins to blossom between Columbus and Wichita, they all head off for the left coast to take young teener Little Rock to the California theme park she loves so much.

There's not much more to be said about the story, which got started late and never really ended before the credits rolled. I smell a rotting-gut sequel.

I downgraded my rating half a Buddha because, after the four arrive in Lalaland, they kill Bill Murray. You just can't kill Bill Murray and expect to get away with it.

Rating: 2.5 out of 5.0 exceedingly grossed-out
Fat Laughing Golden Buddhas

The last time I made the trek up to Halifax, Nova Scotia, was more than half a long lifetime ago. Don't remember much, except for endless stretches of gorgeous desolation throughout most of New Brunswick into the western part of Nova Scotia, plus way friendly folks the few times I accidentally happened to bump into one.

This time around we managed to hit leaf-peeping prime-time all the way up through Maine and the Maritimes. A new postcard vista greeted us over the crest of every hill, while countless rivers and streams crisscrossed the highway, running fast, deep and beautiful, filled with the autumn rain.

Nature freakin' rules.

So, Eastern Canada turned out to be much the same as I recall through the fog of 36 years, at least outside the few and far between smallish cities. Urban and suburban areas have grown considerably, unfortunately, taking on that hideous American fright mask of chained food and shackled marketing: Walmart, Staples, Home Depot, Target, and all that crap, generously peppered with a shaker full of cheap-ass chain hotels, mega-markets and video stores.

Inevitable, I suppose... though disconcerting. The main detail of difference between Fredericton, NB, and Nashua, NH is the license plates... just replace all the Dunkin Donut shops with Tim Horton's, the Canadian equivalent.

The same US-made commercial ugly stick will beat a garish neon bruise on places like Mogadishu, Papua, New Guinea, and Chad someday, the way things are going.

Too bad for Chad, but The Way of the World.

Our main purpose was a scouting trip; the resident high school senior has more than a little interest in continuing her education in Halifax, at either St. Mary's or Dalhousie University. It was worth a trip to see if this was place she could survive... to get a feel for of the schools and the students, the neighborhoods and the city.

Turns out Halifax is way neat--unique in many ways, still quaint and quirky. Except for scale, the city is much like Boston/Cambridge, with the seaport, the many universities and hospitals and the tourism trade dominating. It's a nice blend of the old and modern, well-cleaned and well-kept. (Even the homeless panhandlers were clean, much better dressed than half the customers at Market Basket in Nashua.)

My former little girl said she had set no particular expectations on Halifax or either college before we headed up there. She ended up impressed, as were we, with both the St. Mary's and Dalhousie campus facilities and the general city scene.

I wouldn't mind going to school up there myself.

Women--even young ones--often change their mind, I'm told (ahem). The kid may not end up in Halifax, but I liked her approach at evaluating things and discovered she did a lot more pre-trip research than I believed going in.

Good job on the kid.

All in all, an excellent trip. We all enjoyed the long weekend, including the resident terrier/baby surrogate Lylaboo, good as gold and no trouble at all during the entire trip. We might have done without the two nights we had to stop over in Fredericton, one on the way up and one on the way back, but Jesus, you have to sleep somewhere.

Total drive time from Saturday noon to Tuesday evening, including side trips, about 26 - 27 hrs. Gas: around $200 for my fuel-hungry VW Touareg.

Make sure to top up before you hit the Canadian border.