Death Sentence

It has been more than 20 years since I read Brian Garfield’s novel Death Sentence, the sequel to his earlier book Death Wish, which of course was made into the classic 1974 movie starring Charles Bronson. Honestly, I have very little recollection of the book, other than it followed the further exploits of vigilante Paul Benjamin, a man driven to kill after his family is brutalized by a gang of criminals. And while my memory of Death Sentence may not be worth anything, at least I read the book, which seems to be more than either screenwriter Ian Jeffers or director James Wan can say.

Another Beautiful F**king Day!!!

Nothing truly amazing happened today, it was just a regular day, but it was still great! In fact, today was so great that it warrants a Thin Lizzy Moment.

Forced Entry

Where do you start when reviewing a film like Forced Entry?

Part of me feels like I should apologize for simply watching it. It’s almost as if by watching this film, and then taking the time out to write about, I am some how making the world a worse place. But I guess since that’s how Forced Entry made me feel, it is as good a place as any to start.

Depression and Owen Wilson

Owen Wilson was recently hospitalized, and now reports are beginning to surface that he tried to kill himself. The fact that he may or may not have tried to kill himself is really none of my fucking business, but since I recently had a conversation about depression with two people—one of them being one of my oldest and closest friends, the other being someone I have yet to fully figure out—I am taking it all as a sign that I should get some stuff off my chest.

Beautiful F**king Day!!!

Today has been a great day. It is easy to get caught up in day to day bullshit, and simply lose perspective. But today was not one of those days. Today was simply great. I wanted to find a way to convey what I am feeling right this very moment, and share it with anyone who cares. This video says it all.

Gonzales Resigns, Vick finds Jesus

It’s hard to find the words to express my joy over the resignation of Attorney General Alberto Gonzales, but the fact that the news of his resigning gave me a partial boner should tell you something. (Gonzales is the stupid looking asshole on the left, right next to an even stupider looking shit-stain on the right.) For months I have diligently…no, make that obsessively followed the controversy surrounding Gonzales. The man is a joke. Perhaps the most pathetic and least funny of the ever-shrinking Bush administration—and that’s saying a whole lot. The Justice Department, under the guidance of Karl Rove…oops…I meant George Bush…oops…I meant Gonzales, quickly went in the toilet.

T-Shirt of the Week: WEEK #11

Some people believe you can tell a lot about a person by the shoes they wear. I believe you can tell more about a person by the t-shirts they have worn. This is the story of my life, as told by the t-shirts I have worn.

The Slow Grind

There’s an old saying that goes something like this: The wheels of justice grind slow, but they do grind. I’ve never been too sure about the validity of that statement, and have often felt that “the wheels of justice grind slow, when they grind at all,” was a more appropriate philosophy. But in the case of Charles Moore and Henry Dee, the wheels of justice did in fact grind slow—taking 43 years to do their job—but they did grind. And now, if justice truly has managed to balance itself out for Moore and Dee, 72 year-old James Ford Seale will spend the rest of his life in prison for the murder of these two young men.

Mr. Hansen: R.I.P.

Mr. Hansen died last night. For the last seven years he lived with his wife in the apartment directly below mine. His first name was Ted, but I always called him Mr. Hansen. We didn’t really know each other, other than to say “hello” in passing. I’ve never been the type to get to know my neighbors that well. I make sure they know me well enough that if they see me coming home at 2 in the morning they don’t mistake me for a burglar and call the cops. And I know them about as well.

Michael Vick, On My Mind

For a variety of reasons, many of which I really don’t want to address at this particular time, sports just ain’t my thing. When I was a kid I played baseball and watched it on Sunday afternoons on Channel 11, and I’ve always loved Roller Derby. Not that bullshit stuff they were doing back in the 1990s with out-of-work models skating around tracks and jumping over pools full of alligators. No, I’m talking about the Los Angeles Thunderbirds, and Ralphie “The Guatemalan Flyer” Valderes, and the Washington Brothers, and “Skinny” Gwen Miller. But this isn’t about the bygone days of Roller Derby, or how I was a little league superstar, or even how much sports just ain’t my thing. In fact, I’m not 100% sure what this about, ‘cause right now I’m sort of freestyling. But I do know that in part this is about Michael Vick (as for the rest, we’ll just have to see where it goes).