September 8th, 2007

“Psych”, which airs on the USA Network, is a show about a hyper-observant police consultant who uses his skill to pass himself off as a psychic. The gimmick gets tiring, but the interplay between the characters is sometimes amusing. Anyways, Susan and I were watching one of the latest episodes (“If You’re So Smart, Then Why Are You Dead?”) when I noticed the scenery looked eerily familiar.

Me: “Wow, that looks my high school.”

Me again: “That kinda looks like our library.”

Then this scene showed up, and I freaked out.

Scene from Psych, shot in the David Thompson Secondary lobby!

The Meitner School for gifted students in Santa Barbara? So. Not. That’s the lobby from David Thompson Secondary in Vancouver! That ugly mural of David Thompson the Explorer in the background is the clincher. Non-alumni viewers of this episode, please take note: this sure as hell wasn’t a private elite school - we were grungy public East Van all the way, baby.

I’m not sure all the scenes were shot there - I don’t remember wood-panelled sloped lecture halls - but they definitely shot in the counseling suite, outside the main doors, the library, the lobby, the teacher’s lounge (I think) and a few generic classrooms here and there. Anyways, any fellow classmates from my generation should check out this episode and ask yourself: What’s with the new blue paint scheme (remember the dingy mustard yellow)? When are they ever going to replace those weird geometric windows? What is that horrible new art next to the lobby stairs? And how much did DT get paid for this and what are they going to spend it on?

You may have heard that there’s a Simpsons movie coming out soon. As part of the marketing scheme, they’re temporarily rebranding a dozen 7-Elevens as Kwik-E-Marts, 11 in the States and one in Canada. As an erstwhile convenience store resident, and moderate 7-Eleven delinquent during high school, Apu’s naturally one of my favourite characters. (Best Simpsons moment: Apu entrusts the Kwik-E-Mart to his pre-teen nephew Jamshed, who immediately whips out a shotgun longer than himself, freezing Jimbo and friends in their tracks.) The nearest to me is in Mountain View - seriously tempted to make the drive just to see if they stock Chutney Squishees. For friends in Vancouver, it’s not immediately obvious that the sole Canadian version happens to be in Coquitlam! Rather odd they picked such out of the way locations.

July 19th, 2006

Just finished The Partly Cloudy Patriot by Sarah Vowell - you may know her better as the voice of Violet in the Incredibles. It’s a good read. In her essay on Al Gore’s nerdiness, she references an anonymous commentator on slashdot.

Furthermore, geeks tend to be focused on very narrow fields of endeavour. The modern geek has been generally dismissed by society because thier passions are viewed as trivial by those people who “see the big picture”. Geeks understand that the big picture is pixellated and their high level of contribution in small areas grows the picture. They don’t need to see what everyone else is doing to make their part better.

Indeed. Today’s geeky topic: Transformers. My bio says I don’t get excited about giant armored robots - that’s generally true, unless they’re the kind that turn into cars, planes, and cassette players. The Transformers cartoon was on right after school every weekday when I was a kid in grade one. I’d risk punishment on a regular basis by trying to sneak in an episode instead of doing what I should have been doing, which was practicing piano. Mom was at work, so being caught was determined by when sisters got home from school. One memorable day, unbeknownest to me, Roz had stayed home from school and had been asleep til she was woken by the sound of laser fire emanating from the television. From that day forward, I learned to check the rest of the house for stray family members when I got home.

At some point some kind relative gave me a real Transformer: Mirage, the Formula 1 racer whose schtick in the cartoon was that he also could turn invisible. For a few days I was cool with my fellow classmates Trevor and Marco, who between them owned Optimus Prime, Ironhide, Jetfire, and a small army of Autobots. Then Aaron broke Mirage in half, took him away to “fix”, and never returned him. Then I accidentally broke Trevor’s Ironhide, pissing him off enormously. Then moved away from Canada to Taiwan with Dad, came back after a month with Mom, and we disconnected basic cable; and that was the end of my Transformers toy phase as a kid.

A few years ago, flush with disposable income, I got back into Transformers when the Robots in Disguise line came out. This year I’ve really gotten back into collecting Generation One characters as well as Takara’s Binaltech line. Of course this means I’m finding myself looking forward to Michael Bay’s live action adaptation that comes out next year, although my fellow geeks seem to be up in arms about certain.. liberties.. taken. Here’s a case in point: Penny Arcade’s comic from Monday. To this I have two rejoinders.

First. Watch The Island, Bay’s most recent directorial effort. Susan and I did this weekend courtesy of Netflix. It is a movie which can at best be tenously classified as science fiction. It very vaguely raises serious ethical questions and then dashes them in favor of highly prominent product placement. Whatever: that is not the point of a Michael Bay movie. It is to see finely choreographed violence and explosions and general preposterous mayhem. People falling from the top of skyscrapers with bullets fired from above and from below and surviving while shit blows up all around them. Now imagine giant robots causing said preposterous violence and general mayhem - animated by some of the best in the business (Bay recently bought Digital Domain) - and you see what I mean. To what other director would you entrust the franchise? Brian Singer would give us finely nuanced character development. Hello, we already know this is a battle between one-dimensional cartoonish villains and equally one-dimensional cartoonish heroes, who needs motivation? We really just want to see people, buildings, etc caught in the crossfire blown to smithereens, and how they’re going to pull off the CGI for cars turnin’ into bots and vice versa.

Second. The original Transformers cartoon is really quite craptacular. I acquired the complete Transformers series on DVD on the cheap, the Pexland International box from China. Watched a few of these and was struck by how bad it was. This is a cartoon designed to sell toys, and it shows. For example, here is an excerpt from the second episode. The Decepticons have just attacked a dam and the Autobots have of course shown up to defeat their nefarious plans. At some point, Optimus Prime finds himself hanging on for dear life at the mercy of Megatron.

Optimus Prime hanging at the mercy of Megatron

Megatron: “Any words?”
Optimus: “None you’d want to hear, Megatron!”
Megatron: “Nothing can stop me now! Not even you!”

Thich would be more worrying if we hadn’t just seen Optimus and all the other Autobots flying. Not in a previous episode, but literally two minutes before this very scene. Far be it for me to debate Optimus on combat tactics, but Megatron should really know better than to think stomping on Optimus’ fingers is really going to get him anywhere. Incidentally, I’ve noticed Optimus really has difficulty with terra firma. Four episodes in and the guy keeps falling into water, rolling off cliffs, and so on. When he finally gets aborne via the aid of a rocket pack he gets shot down almost immediately. Some leader he turns out to be.

Back to episode two. While Optimus is still hanging on, the show cuts away to fan favorite character, Starscream. Starscream usually turns into a fighter jet and fires a “null ray”. He’s also Megatron’s snivelling second-in-command.

Starscream wielding a slingshot

Yes, Starscream appears to be a crackshot with a .. slingshot. All that firepower and he goes for the Bart Simpson approach. The point is, if Bay’s movie isn’t true to the cartoon, it’s because the cartoon sucks. If Optimus is still a truck - who cares if it’s a Peterbilt and not a Mack? - and things still blows up - it’s still getting my nine bucks. Especially if the inevitable toy tie-ins are decent.

September 20th, 2004

TV ramblings are in order today, because recent reality has been pretty dull. With the demise of Buffy there’s really not much on TV that I regularly watch anymore. I still can’t tolerate reality shows and dislike most sitcoms, and don’t have the patience to follow a story arc from episode to episode. This pretty much leaves me with just crime shows that wrap up within an hour, which means Law and Order, CSI, and its first offspring, CSI:Miami, which had its season premiere yesterday. If you actually watch this last show and don’t want the plot spoiled, stop reading now.

CSI:Miami is in that class of television entertainment which is so bad, it’s good. In particular, it’s the lead character, Horatio Caine, played by David Caruso, which makes the show like watching a car wreck; you know it’s wrong, but you just can’t turn away. I’ve never watched more than a few minutes of NYPD Blue (the camera jitter makes me want to puke instantly), and the only other thing I’ve seen him in is First Blood, where he has a small role as a small town sheriff*, so I don’t know if he’s always been this way; but judging just by CSI, Caruso seems to be a student of the William Shatner school of acting. Where. Everyone. Talks like this. With pointless gaps. In the middle of sentences.

Compared to the original series, plots on CSI:Miami are a joke. While the former at least tries to demonstrate an ensemble approach to crime solving, in Miami-Dade county Horatio (what a name!) is uber-CSI who, with barely any help from his fellow officer, can solve crimes by leaps of intuition which defy any sort of logic or reason. Yesterday’s episode just scratched the surface of this - a paraphrased, only slightly exaggerated exchange maybe fifteen minutes into the hour:

Man: I saw him push the kid into a S-Class mercedes right here.
Horatio: (gets out measuring tape) The S-Class mercedes has a 66 inch wheelbase. This is 63 inches. You’re lying and are obviously in on the kidnapping scheme. And because this bit of sap on your storeroom floor, judging by its taste, comes only from a type of mangrove tree which only grows in this one place in the Everglades, it’s obvious that your fellow conspirators have driven a truck with a 66 inch wheelbase along this only access road to that same location and have left him for the sharks and alligators. Officers, you’ll find the kid sitting on a piece of lumber there asking for his mom. What, I have forty five minutes left in this show? But I’ve already solved the case! Guess we’ll just have to cut to commercial now.

(SPOILER!) In the same season premiere, they’ve killed off one of the cooler supporting characters. This means even more Horatio time in the future, which means more of that annoying, oozing (in?)sincerity, his distasteful lust after his brother’s widow, and that idiotic phrase he seems to deliver in every bloody episode - “she’s someone daughter, and that’s all that counts”. Ugh. Ok, maybe there’s only just so much of him I can take, and I need a new show to watch. CSI:NY starts this week with Gary Sinise and it’ll be interesting to see where that goes, he’s not an actor I’m terribly fond of either.

*Trivia: that small town is actually played by Hope, British Columbia, which is right in between Vancouver and the Okanagan where my sister lives. There’s a prominent sign in that movie which reads “Gateway to Holidayland”, and I’ve been under that stupid sign too many times to count (Hope used to be the main Greyhound transfer station in the Fraser Valley). Apparently, you can actually do the Rambo walking tour. I’m sure that’s one of the main attractions, because I’ve always found Hope to be a terribly ugly place.

Wow, I take television too seriously sometimes.

March 14th, 2003

Watching food porn by Nigella Lawson: “I don’t think there’s any bad way of eating fried chicken or indeed any fried food, but I have to say that I love this cold, and although cold fried food might sound disgusting to some people, I think cold fried chicken is just the most fabulous picnic food.” She can’t be for real.

Along similar lines (well, linked by the presence of gorgeous brunettes), there’s a diamond ad on TV that for some reason just really annoys me. You know the one: the husband loudly exclaiming his love in the presumably European town square as the pigeons fly off in droves; then restrained by his wife he then whips out some ludicrously sized diamond ring from his pocket; and she, moved by some deep emotion, clings to him, softly professing her undying affection. Whatever.

October 28th, 2002

Sorry Mimi, but having taped and fastforwarded through it at high speed, I’m compelled to disagree: Prospero’s Books is just a nauseatingly bad movie.

Just to balance the negative comment: Cathy Rogers interviewed on slashdot today - she’s such a (intelligent! insightful! quintessentially British!) babe. Her show Full Metal Challenge rocks too.

Lagging a couple of days here between event and journal. Jamie and Neal hosted an Italian dinner party on Saturday. As usual, the food and wine were excellent - everyone outdid themselves preparing really good grub. Although next time, I will know better and not show up early; pitching in on the hosts’ elaborate food preparation (running late), I soon found myself preparing one of Mario Batali’s ridiculously complicated asparagus recipes. So now I know what zabaglione is - and what it probably shouldn’t look or taste like.

For my own contribution, I had managed to weasel away the task of making tiramisu from Jason (since I knew full well that it was within my abilities). I went for a fairly standard recipe - this one, somewhat modified by jacking up the brandy (perhaps a little too much) and mixing in two tablespoons of instant coffee into the cream. That turned out well - highly recommended recipe for a good impression/minimal effort ratio.

October 21st, 2002

Iron Chef episode with Kobe in the octopus battle (one of the better episodes, despite my dislike of Chef “My Hat Is 3 Feet Tall” Kobe): during tasting, token fluffhead actress blurts “This really reminds me of my childhood”. Uh, what? Ridiculously fresh octopus, marinated in sparkling wine, mixed with prawns, wrapped in shredded potatoes, boiled, deep fried, and dotted with balsamic vinegar reduction flavored with dried octopus and herbs - that’s your childhood comfort food?

Yup, I’ve been watching an ungodly amount of television; been draggy with a mild flu all week so I’ve been unsociable at best. I’m hopelessly behind on catching up with Tivo’d shows - and the hard disk upgrade from several months ago means I probably never will catch up. However the seeming lack of anything original and good in terms of new television programming this year may prove me wrong.

10:18 PM: I’ve just flipped to channel 98 - Univision - and there’s a guy in a giant yellow chicken suit, surrounded by what look like refugees from the Village People, being interviewed by some lady dressed in the most revealing shirt I’ve ever seen on “network” TV. And I thought there was nothing on.

11:02 PM: Worst-Case Scenario: “What if you had to outrun an avalanche on a garbage bag?”

11:04 PM: Commercial for “Stan’s Adult Super Store - one of White Center’s best kept secrets!” - according to someone who is presumably the proud proprietor: a manic middle-aged dude with a buzz cut, inexplicably dressed in a kilt and clutching bagpipes while extolling the virtues of sex toys. Really, I’m not making this up, and no, I’m not watching any odd stations, this is TBS..

11:18 PM: John Cleese lending his voice to a commercial for a Little Tikes plastic preschool mailbox thing. How utterly sad.

November 6th, 2001

I haven’t been commenting on popular media for a while, but I’ll make a point now of saying: tonight’s showing of Buffy the Vampire Slayer was the Greatest. Episode. Ever.

Obsnark: Okay, so Sarah Michelle Gellar does have pretty terrible singing skills. That’s fine: it makes her more human, less of an unapproachable goddess.

August 2nd, 2001

Didi mau! Didi mau!

–Bart, The Simpsons: “Skinner’s Sense Of Snow” (Episode #CABF06)

Having just seen that on TV and finally understanding what Manh Ha was chuckling about at Christmas, it hit home how much I miss having old friends around.

© 1999-2008 Julian Fong