FAIR TRADE

Joe The Plumber: No "queers" near my kids.















Queers: Deal.

SELF CONTROL

Man vs. Cheez-It


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Cheez-It wins.

DEEP CUTS - N*E*R*D: YOU KNOW WHAT

In an attempt to inject some consistency into this blog (in posting frequency, not content. Topics broached here will continue to be the assorted grab-bag of items that lack focus and thesis), I'm trying to develop some recurring themes. If history tells us anything about this blog, most if not all of these will fall by the wayside, with a quick abandonment of the concept altogether. But for now, let's be optimistic!

Today, the Sock unveils the first new segment: Deep Cuts.

In case you're unfamiliar with the terminology, here is how Wikipedia defines a deep cut:

In radio programming, a deep cut or deep track is a song which commercial radio stations rarely broadcast. It is taken from the fact that on vinyl albums, the hit singles promoted by record companies are usually found early on in the record, with the other, less known songs buried "deep" into the record.

I'm not a radio programmer, and I don't have vinyl albums (save for The Beastie Boys Root Down EP and Ratatat's LP3), so for the purpose of this blog, let's just say a deep cut is a late-in-the-album song that I enjoy.

Today's Deep Cut: N*E*R*D's "You Know What"



I'm not going to get up on my soapbox and start preaching the efforts of N*E*R*D, mainly because I have terrible balance and am afraid of heights. But I do like this band, for better or worse. Many would define everything following 2002's In Search Of... as the latter.

I'm also not going to deny that In Search Of... is most certainly their best album, nor that I listened to it incessantly and might have spontaneously began singing it at my 21st birthday party. I can't say I had the same experience with either Fly Or Die or Seeing Sounds, but it's hard to turn 21 more than once, or any age for that matter. But I digress...

In any event, I had my mp3 player (which will go as unbranded until a certain fruit-named company wants to start paying me for advertising) on shuffle this morning - as I'm loathe to engage in any sort of decision making process that early - and as luck would have it, just as I was climbing the 53rd street subway steps into Manhattan, "You Know What" came on. On my first trip through this album, I somehow missed this track. I have a feeling I never made it past "Love Bomb." But you know what? "You Know What" might be one of the best tracks on this album. Take from that what you will. Just don't ask me to sing it.

AND THE WINNER IS...

Please allow me to humor myself for the extent of this post. Then I promise, back to the usual high-standard of journalistic excellence!

I'm in a race against time. I am desperately trying to complete this post prior to tonight's Academy Awards telecast, which means I have... 29 minutes and counting, current time. And just why am I trying so furiously to get a this post up by a certain time when I've seemed so exceedingly negligent in the past of putting up any post in any sort of timely fashion? What a great question, I'm so glad I asked it (and chose to phrase it in the form of a run-on sentence). To answer the question, for the FIRST time in my life, I have seen EVERY movie nominated for Best Picture. That's right, all five! I know that's a seemingly trivial and insignificant feat, especially considering that best picture nominees should, by all accounts, be great endeavors in cinema and therefore hardly be a chore to watch, let me remind you, The Thin Red Line was, in its time, nominated for this award.

I endured Benjamin Button. The case may have been more curious had it not taken approximately 17 hours (that's a rough estimate) to tell the story. It doesn't exactly leave much to the imagination, or left to question. What I found most curious is how they turned a 15 page short story into an interminable epic. Jokes aside, it's beautiful to watch - really gorgeously shot. But it just didn't captivate me, exemplified when I fell asleep during the ship scene (which, from conversations with others, seems to be a common occurrence). Gimme Pulp Fiction, Se7en, Zodiac (which was FANTASTIC, everyone should see it). Most years I'd be first in line for a Fincher pic. But this once falls a little short...

I drank in Milk, but it didn't go down smooth. Biopics never do for me. Maybe they're prisoners of their genre. Trying to tell someone's story in such a constrictive amount of time is difficult. I always leave unsatisfied - even in Ali (which I think approached four hours. I would have stayed for at least 3 more). As interesting as Harvey Milk is, and as inspiring as Penn's performance is, I just didn't love it as a film. I learned a lot, but not everything I wanted to (why did he move to SF from NY in the first place? What drove him to that point?) And there just seemed to be a lot of blanks. And as much as I hate to say it, especially since I agree with most if not all of the messages presented, it felt a little forced, and just a tad agenda-pushing (not unlike this blog post!)...

I attended Frost/Nixon less than 24 hours ago - the final piece in my Best Pic puzzle. I was initially pumped for this, then became discouraged from negative reviews. If anything I learned to pay less attention to reviews. I loved this film. I don't care if Frank Langella doesn't look like Nixon. I don't even care if this is based in reality or not. This film stands completely on its own, driven by superb dialogue and incredibly well crafted dramatic tension between the two main characters. Furthermore, it does what Milk fails to do. For all of Milk's successes, I think its biggest failure is that it seemed to concerned with its place in reality. Had I no interest in learning about Harvey Milk, I would have no interest, nor would I have enjoyed, that film. On the other hand, I firmly believe I could have gone into Frost/Nixon knowing nothing about the characters, nothing about the historical relevance, and still would have been riveted. That, in my opinion, is great film making (and let me remind you, I have a film certificate from a make-shift film sub-department at a public university)...

Slumdog Millionaire hardly felt like slumming. In fact, it's probably my favorite movie of the year. Danny Boyle cements himself as one of my favorite directors, making bold choices despite urging to the contrary (e.g. - extensive use of subtitles, which is not only not in the least bit distracting but significantly enhances the feeling of authenticity the film possesses), and the performances from the relatively unknown cast are all dynamite. Also, I walked out smiling. There's something to be said for that...

This might be the closest all five candidates have been in years. All of these films have a strong case for best picture. But the one that will win it, in my opinion, is The Reader. I saw this film accidentally - I was actually intending to see Slumdog. Had it not been sold out, I'm not sure I would have. Thank you to New York City and its eight million residents for making everything worth doing difficult! Had it not been for you, I may have missed the best film of the year. Kate Winslet is remarkable. David Kross (no not that one, the other one) is outstanding. Ralph Fiennes is brilliant as always. This film had me from start to finish. I think I left a firm outline of my ass and back in the seat when I left, because I don't think I shifted my weight, crossed my legs, or deviated in anyway from my initial position once. This movie is THAT good (and that's coming from someone with sciatica issues).

So there you have it. Now the two of you who read this blog who have already probably heard my neverending-rant triumphing The Reader can be reassured, it's not a put-on. I leave it here for public record, for ridicule if it loses, and modest pride if it wins.

And no matter what, we can be certain of one thing: This post is surely riddled with grammatical errors and sentence-structure problems. Hooray for being united on something.

DONE! And just in the nick of time.

Enjoy the show.

AND NOW IT'S TIME FOR...

Where is Kirsten Gillibrand Hiding Her Guns?!?






Nonelected-Senator Kirsten Gillibrand revealed this week that she keeps two unloaded rifles under her bed. When asked what she is using the guns to protect herself from, Gillibrand responded, "Higher office."

A spokesperson for the senator added that since revealing this information to the public, the guns "will be moved for security reasons."

No word yet on where the senator is considering storing her rifles now, but she was overheard to have said "you can bet it won't be under the bed again! Seriously, they won't be there, so you shouldn't even look there. Especially if you've broken into my home. Because they won't be there, I can tell you that much. And also I definitely don't keep a handgun in my pillow, or a deringer in my handbag."

In a related story, Plaxico Burress was found banging his head against a wall. When asked to comment, he stated he no longer plans to keep his guns on his dining room table and kitchen counter at home, adding "I didn't realize you could hide them."

Nonelected-Senator Gillibrand was appointed to fill former Senator Hillary Clinton's vacant senate seat by Nonelected-Governor David Paterson. Mayor Michael Bloomberg is said to be considering an attempt to make the appointments permanent. When told he doesn't have jurisdiction over that part of government, Bloomberg responded, "we'll see about that."

GUNS DON'T KILL PEOPLE, AND NEITHER DO NEW YORK GIANTS WIDE RECEIVERS

Before you go judging Plaxico Burress, keep in mind that he learned gun safety from this man:

GETTING CLOSURE

There is somewhat of a collective sigh being expressed now that this historic election has come to an end. Maybe "Historic" is not your choice of adjective. Perhaps you prefer "excruciating" or "interminable" or maybe even "soul sucking". No matter what you call it, one thing is certain: we were invested in this election for a long time.

We spent the better part of two years with this thing. The election could have gotten pregnant and given birth not once but TWICE. It could have gone to school and attained a low-level-to-moderate masters degree. It enjoyed a longer run than the vast majority of programming that debuted against it. The following is just a partial list of shows that premiered and ended over the course of this campaign:

2 Dudes Catering
Aliens In America
America's Psychic Challenge
Amne$ia
Back To You
Better Half
Big Shot
Bionic Woman
Blood Ties
Camp Lazlo
Cane
Canterbury's Law
Carpoolers
Cashmere Mafia
Cavemen
Clash Of The Choirs
Confessions Of A Matchmaker
Control Room Presents
Crowned: The Mother Of All Pageants
CW Now
Dance Machine
Dance War: Bruno vs. Carrie Ann
Decision House
Dr. Steve-O
Exalted!
Guinea Pig
Here Come The Newlyweds
Hey Paula
Janice & Abbey
Journeyman
K-Ville
Kaya
Kid Nation
Life Is Wild
Matched In Manhattan
Miss Guided
Moonlight
MVP: He Shoots, She Scores
My Dad Is Better Than Your Dad
Nashville
New Amsterdam
The Next Great American Band
Online Nation
Oprah's Big Give
Painkiller Jane
Phenomenon
Power Of 10
Quarterlife
Secret Talents Of The Stars
Side Order Of Life
The Singing Bee
State Of Mind
Tell Me You Love Me
Unhitched
Viva Laughlin
Welcome To The Parker
Whacked Out Videos
When Women Rule The World
Women's Murder Club

Personally, I will have a hard time putting this election behind me. Its course spanned longer than most of my employment stints. My relationship with it was one of the longest I've ever been in. Simply exhaling and burying the memory just does not seem like a proper send off. That's why, if you'd allow me (and even if you don't), I'd like to take a little time to reminisce as we say goodbye to the longest election in our nation's history. With that, I present the first in a (probable) series of what I will be calling: Things I Will Miss Now That The Election Is Over.


#1. EMAIL UPDATES


In the middle of October, my email address somehow got added to the Barack Obama mailing list. Since that time, I have received approximately 1,762 emails from the friends, family, and general acquaintances of the President-Elect. Now that this election is over, my mailbox seems all too empty, and I can't help but feel just a little bit used. The morning after, I received no contact - no email, no nothing - from any of the staffers I'd come to grow so close to. Where's my update from David Plouffe? Suddenly, Bob Casey doesn't seem to need me so much anymore. Al Gore just stopped asking for my help, and Jon Carson isn't checking in on my weekend plans. There are no more challenges from Nicole Aro, and no Joe Biden just saying hi.

So thanks, Obama Campaign, for turning what I thought was my triumphant march from the voting booth into a tawdry walk of shame. It's going to take an industrial-strength spam-blocker and anti-virus sweep to cleanse my computer of the memory of this dirty affair.

Which reminds me, has anyone checked in on Scarlett Johansson?