Trapped in rural Ohio by my own devices. Everyone in the house is asleep by 8:30pm. Jay Leno, my archest of enemies other than myself, has a new show premiering at 10pm. I don’t like myself, so of course I’m going to try to watch it.

Thoughts?

Long monologue. Um… Seinfeld wore an ironic tux, uh… yeah, I couldn’t get through most of it, but the Kanye West awkwardness was FASCINATING! No, I did not watch the MTV Video Music Awards (and haven’t since, I dunno, Chris Rock hosted maybe?) but I heard about Kanye’s douchiness when the weirdly plastic Taylor Swift won best video or whatever instead of Beyonce, something that apparently upset Kanye to the point of getting on stage and messing up Swift’s acceptance speech.

So, in an almost Hugh Grant-esque shaming (for the old folk) Leno brings up Kanye’s dead mom. “What would your mom say about this?”

Holy shit, you lantern-jawed bastard who may or may not be my illegitimate father! That is amazing! Really? He says something dumb (as is Kanye’s way), and you bring up… his dead… mother??? And then, wow, the silence from Kanye as he tried to think of what to say. Was that about, what, eight minutes of dead air on “prime time” network television? Okay, maybe not that long, but still…

Thankfully, Kanye pledged to help Taylor Swift in some way whenever she needs it.

I haven’t checked, but they better be Facebook friends.

Ah… I woudln’t mind eating at “The House of Poon,” though. Good one, Jay. Real classy-like.

(The real victim here is Conan O’Brien. Finally gets The Tonight Show to be preceded by this? Bah!!!)

The nemesis. The villain. The bad guy. Superheroes and regular humans alike, I think everyone has an arch enemy. Superman has Lex Luthor. Batman has The Joker. Jon Bon Jovi has Ninjas. I have… myself. Yes, it has become all too apparent that no enemy in my life is as dangerous to me as me.

It took me a while, but lately I’ve noticed some clues that lead me to this conclusion…

Exhibit 1: Only brought one book on my trip to Ohio — Dress Your Family in Corduroy and Denim by David Sedaris. Funny, interesting essays that I almost finished on the darn plane. And then finished quite quickly. If I were in Columbus, this wouldn’t be a problem, but here in Waverly… well… there aren’t really any books stores. I got excited when I saw a used one, but I’m not too much into Christian fiction or the history of Ohio. Maybe I need to expand my horizons. Regardless, I’m book-free. Upon telling this to my dad, he gave me two books by Pope John Paul II that he said might inspire me. I’m not Catholic, but I figured I should take inspiration where I can get it. Pope John Paul II In My Own Words isn’t working so far, to be honest. Maybe I’ll crack open Crossing the Threshold of Hope tonight. Uhhhhg… look, trying to keep an open mind. No more far fetched, I suppose, than The Secret, which I now have on DVD thanks to a concerned friend.

Exhibit B: Acting like a jerk for mysterious, as yet completely not-understandable or at all rational reasons. Might be a sign of insanity (i.e., craziness and/or being a psycho). The result of this might be having to change my identity and/or location. Still hoping for time travel solution, but everyone tells me that’s not going to happen.

Exhibit Tres: Brought my running shoes on this “Get The Fuck Out Of LA” trip, but I am not running. Now, I have a nurse friend who insists that running is worse for you than it is good for you. I knew it was rough on the knees, but apparently it can knock the shit out of your retinaes, too. Possiblity for blindess or something. Seems extreme, and, besides, I can’t run more than a mile anyway, but still. Too dangerous.

Exhibit Five Minus One: I am a writer, yet I am not writing. I mean, I’m writing this, but, seeing as how I’m not particularly funny lately, and I’m not famous or even semi-famous, I’ll make no money off these blogs. So, I should be writing a comic … oh, wait.

Exhibit Five Minus One Plus One: I didn’t even bother showering today.

It is clear that I am the archest of arch enemies, and I must defeat myself.

Changes must be made. Is there a pill for that? I don’t think so. So, gotta get some mental power here. It might involve lying to myself until, due to my crap memory, I forget that I’m lying, believing myself. Yes… yessss… that’d be a positive way to use my shit memory.

So… while visiting the family, after everyone goes to sleep way earlier than I can, I got The Spirit on discount pay-per-view to avoid “alone thinking.” Anyway, it was only $1.99, and not my money. (Sorry, Mom.) So, yeah, I decided to watch it. Here are my thoughts as I watched it. (WARNING 1: Spoilers. WARNING 2: Not a review. Seriously. Just… random thoughts. WARNING 3: Might not be readable.)

Wow. Wow wow. From the first shot, you know you’re in for a treat. A treat that requires beers. And sleep deprivation. And nothing better to do with your life.

But darn if some of the shots and angles at the opening and the very Danny Elfman-esque Batman music aren’t fairly entertaining.

Not sure what the “Lorelei Angel of Death” (Jamie King even though I wouldn’t know that just from watching the movie) stuff is all about. Something lost in the translation? And Samuel L. Jackson as The Octopus? Yikes. Eye makeup disaster.

This is one case where writer/director Frank Miller being a dirty old man helped, though. Good god did he cast pretty ladies. I think… wait… all the ladies in this are very pretty. Some ugly guys, but ALL pretty ladies. Oh, there’s Eva Mendes as Sand Saref. She was cast for her acting chops. Obviously.

All slow and oddly unengaging, though.

Triplet (multiple) villain clones are horrible. It’s Edgar from 24, but… yeah, just… just bad. Not funny.

Scarlett Johansson as Silken Floss… god, she sucks in this right from jump street. Her usually husky voice is less husky, even thought it’d work for this part.

Octopus beating the Spirit with someone’s head??? Fighting in shit? I dunno. Some of the shots are cool, but this fight scene, like the rest of the movie so far, is just so fucking boring. Do kind of enjoy the Spirit just punching Octopus over and over and over again, almost comically repetition.

Samuel L. embarrasses himself. And, contrary to his line, toilets are NOT always funny.

How can a fight scene be so fucking boring?

They just fight and fight, then go their separate ways? I do kind of like the dialog exchange at the end, with an exhausted Spirit. Kind of amusing. I think Gabriel Macht’s performance as The Spirit got a bum rap due to the overall suckiness of the movie.

The whole Lorelei “death” stuff again… I dunno.

Were there whores in Will Eisner’s The Spirit comics? There are whores in everything Frank Miller does. Whores. With asses. And breasts. Whores. Frank Miller… loves… whores.

The Spirit and Sand Seref childhood sweetheart flashbacks oddly effective. Surprisingly. But… why does The Spirit tell it all to a cat… ? And then look at the camera when he explains what he has to do?

What the fuck is the blood of Heracles stuff? And what is up with samuari Octopus?  And all the weird killing of his henchmen?

Weird Robin joke about his tight ass. Hmmm. And Miller is (or was) writing a comic called All Star Batman & Robin, The Boy Wonder. Hmmmm.

Sand Saref photocopies her ass… ??? LOL… ?

His purse snatching stopping is hilarious, thief running right into The Spirit’s fist. And the dude, “Marry me?” LOL.

That chick cop sidekick is ridiculous. Horrible. Ug.

Foot with a head… ? The Octopus makes one of his clone thugs, but it becomes a foot with a head… and a squeaky voice? “Damn weird,” as Octopus says, is… and understatement. Maybe… “stupid.” That might be the correct word.

Kind of hilarious that Spirit finds Sand Seriff via her ass photocopy.

So… pseudo-girlfriend who dated The Spirit before he died when he was Denny Colt doesn’t know The Spirit is… Denny Colt? Still… decent scene between her and her dad, the dad from The Wonder Years.

Paz Vega as a French belly dancer?

And what is up with the Nazi shit? So weird.

“Dead as Star Trek?” What kind of line is that, Octopus? I guess before the new movie, sure, but c’mon.

What’s up with Octopus and eggs?

Melting a kitty cat? Eyeballs left over… ???

Then I fell asleep. Woke up to see Samuel L. Octopus blow up and The Spirit kiss Eva.

I dunno. What’d I miss? What’d I just kind of half watch?

On a scale from “sucky” to “good,” this leans more toward “sucky” — though there was some fun.

Just recently read comic books and drank cheap canned beer while President Obama’s speech on health care reform was on the TV in the background, and, well, I don’t know where there can possibly be any debate.

Of course we need universal health care! How could there be a question? Good lord! It’s. Our. Universe!

If Slagar The Slagarthorious gets a hankerin’ for universe destruction, how are we going to make sure we can get back to healthy, assuming anyone survives the alien Armageddon?

It’s kind of a downer, I know, but let’s really think about this, God’s Americans. Let’s think long. Then let’s think hard. Then let’s combine the porno style, because this is a crazy important issue.

Protect our universe! Universal health care! And, um, reform! Let’s do this thing!

Doctor Who. It’s an acquired taste for many of us Yanks, I think. Honestly, I used to hate the original series as a kid. It freaked me out. British teeth. Weird video for interior shots, totally different looking film stock for the exteriors — that really bothered me for some reason.

But when the series came back after a several years off the air in 2005, I heard good things. And I watched a few episodes on Sci Fi. Then I started renting the series on Netflix a few months later. And just devoured it.

The show’s mix of science fiction, adventure, comedy, and lots and lots of heart won me over. And though David Tennant as the 10th Doctor became my favorite (so far, anyway, fingers crossed for the upcoming 11th), it was Christopher Eccleston as the 9th Doctor that started this whole thing off. And re-watching series 1 of the new Who, by myself unfortunately, which wasn’t the original plan, I find myself perhaps even more entertained than the first time I watched it.

Yes, some episodes are corny at times, and the tone is off a bit here and there, especially in the first episode, but there’s so much good overall, and, to me, the series finale is a truly rousing and inspiring bit of classic television. The episode, entitled “The Parting of Ways,” is about true heroism. And love. And sacrifice. And hope. Goddammit, for an unfortunate pessimist like myself, the HOPE of Doctor Who still always gets to me. I’m watching it now with a lump in my throat. It’s ridiculous, I know. But the unspoken love between the Doctor and Rose (I ain’t got no problem with that, old school Whovians), the courage to do the right thing in the face of impossible odds regardless of the sacrifice it entails… man. I need this right now, and I’m glad I’m watching it.

“I think you need a doctor.”

Thanks for getting me this way overpriced DVD set for my birthday way back in the much-missed good old days of July, Erin. I didn’t ask for it, but you paid attention to all my babbling about this weird British science fiction show and surprised me. I truly enjoy it and will watch it over and over. It’s full of fun, wonder, cheesy fx, and hope. I love hope. I can’t help it — bitter as I too often am, I am in love with hope.

And that theme song just makes me smile!

Now I’m gonna have to save money for series two, doggone it…