June 4th, 2007


Who Killed Laura Palmer?

Coming to you LIVE from the Terrorism Capital of the United States (which, on a global scale, is like saying I live in the Soccer Capital of the United States), it's your trusty, slothful television watcher here with another review of another show long-dead that most likely nobody's ever seen or will ever see.

Truly, this has been a marathon couple of months worth of TV watching on my end, with none in sight I might add. On the docket this week - in addition to the Season 3 Finale of Entourage and the next-to-last episode of The Sopranos - is Twin Peaks.

First off, you know a show is gonna be big time when the pilot episode is two hours long. They had it with ER, they had it with Firefly (a show I haven't seen, but have heard excellent things about), they had it with the Incredible Motherfucking Hulk, and they had it with the show I would most associate with the likes of Twin Peaks: they had it with Lost.

I think.

And even if they didn't, who cares? The point is, both Twin Peaks and Lost were/are ABC shows, both are mysteries with numerous amounts of clues and twists and strange, freaky occurrences, and both hit it big right from the get-go with audiences (while ultimately frustrating audiences at the same time because they held/hold back the big payoff to an excruciating degree). Differences: Twin Peaks is a murder mystery, it only lasted for 30 episodes (1990-1991), it is set in Northeast Washington State in a ficticious city called ... Twin Peaks, it was filmed in Northwest Washington State, and it was co-created by one of the most distinctive directors ever, a Mr. David Lynch.

He directed Blue Velvet, Lost Highway, Mulholland Drive ... pretty much, he's actually turned himself into dismembered brainwaves and LITERALLY directed every nightmare you've ever had. To watch something he's created and be able to say, "Oh, I get it now" would mean that you ... are a fucking liar! No one EVER gets ANYTHING that David Lynch has ever made, not even that movie "The Straight Story" which was inexplicably Rated G and not created by Disney - even a movie like THAT has people going, "What the fuck is that Lynch guy thinking???"

Irregardless, here's what I learned while watching the 2-hour series premiere of Twin Peaks followed by three more episodes:

Twin Peaks has, by far, the worst theme song intro ever in the history of theme song intros.

Kyle MacLachlan has finally been in something that not only DOESN'T make me want to punch him in the face repeatedly (that's including Blue Velvet, The Doors, Showgirls and even The Flintstones movie), but I find that I generally enjoy his presence and look forward to seeing his character in future episodes.

Lara Flynn Boyle is a skinny piece of ass any way you slice it.

The girl who plays Audrey is that David Lynch It Girl - that classic beauty, that example of feminine perfection that he has in everything he ever does: Isabella Rossellini in "Blue Velvet"; Laura Harring in "Mulholland Drive"; Patricia Arquette in "Lost Highway"? OK, maybe I'll buy that.

Including the pilot, there were 8 episodes of Twin Peaks in the first season. Since it was such a runaway smash right out of the gate, they extended the second season to something like 22 episodes before calling it a day. Here's the rub: while the series opened and surrounded the investigation into the murder of Laura Palmer (no relation to presidents David or Wayne), apparently Lynch and co-creater Mark Frost took too long in revealing the killer, so the audience for the show got turned off on the whole thing. And, I think Lynch was more hands-off in Season 2, leading to a diminished quality compared to the epic first season.

So, we'll see. All I now is that the melodrama is flowing like wine, the overacting runs wild over the whole show, the dialogue is campy (presumably by design, but that could be me giving David Lynch too much credit and benefit of the doubt), and I simply can NOT get enough.

Plus, the Log Lady is a superfox.

Gods n' Sods

Every additional day at work is an additional $100 in my pocket. Does the fun ever start?

My credit card company punched me in the boob last week; I discovered that my Low-Low APR went back to its regularly scheduled programming. So, instead of paying down $20 worth of interest every month, I'm facing something like $120. As Zack Morris once said, "This news disappoints me verily." In conclusion, I mailed a check for $3,000 today and transferred the rest of my credit card balance (about $2,300) back to my Bank of America card at the same Low-Low APR (this time through December 2007).

The moral of the story, kids, is don't sign up for a credit card. Ever. Or, if you do, don't be a moron.

My friends call me Mo.

See, the plan was to hit the gym every day through the end of the month, just to ensure that I'm getting my money's worth since I won't be here for July (and because I've a lard ass one might cherish in the great land of Milwaukee). Then I just remembered that the Schoolyard Heroes play tonight in Brooklyn at the Luna Lounge. I must see them, because they are awesome, and because they're opening for a band called The Horrors who I've never heard of before. Something tells me that no matter how I show up I'm going to be underdressed for this evening. Seems to me I'll be lacking just a tad in the ol' goth make-up area of things. Why do people even play music on the weeknights? Shouldn't I be allowed to take tomorrow off, or at least come in late? When I'm president, that's the first bill I'm passing through Congress: if you see live music, you automatically get to come in for a half-day with a full-day's pay. Just show them the stamp on your hand. Done.

So, I've got that tonight, which isn't even to mention the fact that I have Entourage and The Sopranos to look forward to more than life itself, which isn't even to mention the fact that I have the rest of Twin Peaks to watch. And then tomorrow I've caught wind of a possible dinner where my presence would be required. Not so much because it's me and I'm particularly NEEDED, but because I don't get out of the apartment nearly enough and when I do it's usually to buy food or beer within a three block radius of my home. People need to go out and socialize with other people; I wouldn't want to go all Emily Dickinson on everyone. Not that I'm actually writing or anything.

Anyway, I'll go ahead and throw on the old broken record bit and say that I'm STILL at the job, but I don't expect it to go on past this week, if I even make it all the way to Friday.

I'm exhausted. I tried to sleep with the window open, but it was raining all night and took me forever to get to sleep. In fact, I don't think I actually ever did go to sleep; I suffered an endless series of hallucinations one might call "dreams" if I weren't constantly aware of my surroundings. Now, I'm four cups of coffee into my day with three hours to go before I can knock off. It's either write in this or play Metroid on my Nintendo emulator, and I can't get a handle on these controls.

You know, I don't know what I'm gonna do with myself when I'm forced to work a job that doesn't allow me to listen to Mitch In The Morning on the computer. I don't even want to know what that sick bizarro world is like. Of course, on the plus side, I wouldn't be tempted to listen to Softy Softerson (who I actually like quite a bit) talk to callers from Seattle (who are generally vapid and without solid reasoning).

I shouldn't blame Seattle sports fans, because New York sports fans are generally vapid and without solid reasoning with an overbearing sense of entitlement and obnoxiousness all their own.

Anyway, here's my baseless and vapid opinion on Seattle sports, since there's nothing else better to do anyway. I wish we could get some Trinidadian-based terrorists to plant some explosives in the home of Jeff Weaver and Horacio Ramirez. Jeff Weaver (he of the 0-6 record and the +12.00 era) is due to come off of the Disabled List this week and replace Ryan Feierabend (he of the 1-1 record and the +5.00 era) in the starting rotation. Anyone who thinks Jeff Weaver should be playing in the American League is a moron (unless the GM down in Anaheim wanted to give him a second chance and trade for him with his brother); but it's not like Ryan Feierabend is the second coming of Nolan Ryan. He's hardly even the second coming of Tim Belcher, but that's neither here nor there. Where my head's ready to explode is any inkling of taking out Cha Seung Baek for either Horacio Ramirez or Jeff Weaver. With his performance in September of last year and for the months he's been with the club this season, Baek has proven he's as good a Number 5 starter as there is in the American League, he'll almost always keep you in the game, and he's a shitload better than either Ramirez or Weaver.

I still hate Howard Schultz with a bloody passion (nuttin' new, nuttin' new, y'all ain't sayin' nuttin' new).

Less than two months until the beginning of Seahawks Training Camp. Three weeks and three days until Kevin Durrant becomes a Sonic (or until I walk into Lenny Wilkens' office with a kilo of C-4 strapped to my chest)