Commando Recall of Predatorial Lies that Terminate on the Sixth Day

Or Why Nobody Should Ever Remake an Arnold Schwartzenegger Film

So has anybody else been keeping an eye on the 'Total Recall' remake that's coming out soon? No? Well, that makes me feel better, since I haven't either. Really, I think it's a bit too soon to be remaking that film. The statute of limitations on remakes needs to be at least thirty years, and Total Recall is barely twenty years old.

It's hardly the worst offender as far as remakes go -- 'The Amazing Spiderman' came out last weekend to raving lukewarm reviews, and the last movie in Sam Rami's Spiderman series came out a single-digit number of years ago that I'm too lazy to look up and confirm. 'The Girl With The Dragon Tattoo,' admittedly a foreign film but already a complete trilogy in English got its domestic remake two years after the original. 'American Psycho' is being remade this year, and it's from freaking 2000. Seems like Hollywood's remake binge is finally catching up to itself.

Soon they'll start remaking movies that are still in the works. My bet is that 'The Hobbit' won't actually be split into two parts, but that next year's film will be a recut of this year's.

This trend is irritating. But 'Total Recall' is especially irritating. And not because it's barely twenty years old, but because it's an Arnold film. And you can't remake an Arnold film.

What do I mean by that? Glad you asked. The biggest clue is in what I just said -- 'Arnold film.' And absolutely nobody reading this should take issue with calling his films that. Arnold Schwartzenegger is such a pop culture icon, a force all his own, that he's effectively created an entire genre with a certain set of expectations. Just like in noir films you expect high contrast lighting, solo saxophones and intrigue, in an Arnold film you expect over-the-top action, cheesy one-liners, explosions, and freaking Arnold Schwartzenegger. Well, and possibly male pregnancy, but 'Junior' is a special case.

Note that except for that last criteria, the genre Arnold film fits 'Total Recall' to a tee. 'Total Recall' isn't just sci-fi or action, it's an Arnold film.

So why does all that matter? Because remakes are always done with other actors, and we've defined that Total Recall's genre is 'Arnold film.' By definition, you can't have an Arnold film without Arnold, and that's what they're doing. This is like taking 'When Harry Met Sally' and remaking it as a Vietnam War period piece. Which now doesn't seem too far-fetched. Point is, it's taking things too far to entirely switch genres when delivering a remake, and delivering a remake of an Arnold film as a mere science fiction piece is simply unforgiveable. I leave you today with the following video on YouTube, which should cement Arnold films as one of the defining genres of the early 90s: Arnold Schwarzenegger: Best DVD Commentary Ever

I'm back!

In whatever sense that may imply. I'm very rarely every here, per se. I actually spend a great deal of time, no matter where I am, not being 'there.'

Oh, I can pull it off for maybe an hour, hour and a half, but eventually I just get overwhelmed, begin to tune out, and end up in my own brain. Some people become the kind of wallflower that just sits back and watches, but not me. I literally just tune out, every so often tuning back in to realize I don't know what's going on. It's kind of like constantly changing the channel back and forth between ESPN and Seinfeld.

But this blog isn't about linear, easily-followed thoughts. This blog is for unfocused rambling, and I'll be damned if I'm going to post something coherent.

Like spaghetti. Ever think of spaghetti that way? It's like a room full of people, all talking and carrying on completely separate conversations. If everyone's loud enough, walking into that room would be like walking into a plate full of spaghetti. All these threads that make sense to the participants, but from an unbiased perspective it all seems like a giant unfocused mess.

Of course, spaghetti is squishy and people aren't. Well, they are to a point, but then you get down to the bone.

PEPPERONI!

The Tuna's Complete Guide To Being A Happy, Well-Adjusted Human Being

Never argue on the internet.

Dave the Marble

So the last time I posted, I said I'd deconstruct some Hoobasuck lyrics the next time I posted.  I didn't put a time limit on this promise, so even the fact that it's been a while since I posted shouldn't matter.  A promise is a promise.

Well guess what?  The Tuna lies.

Fact is that I have one of those jobs with a workload that is directly proportional to the number of people in the office on any given day.  Today being December 30th, most people are still out on holiday, which makes my workload very, very small.  As such, I'm effectively on call in case something catastrophic happens, like a squirrel hiding under the kitchen oven and chewing on exposed wires.

It took a week to get the smell out last time.  Do you know what flash-fried squirrel smells like?  Here's a hint: not like barbecue.

So I'm bored, and it's the kind of boredom that results in your brain giving all of your excess energy away to charity because, hey, you're obviously not using it.  I barely have the fortitude and drive to type, much less think of something hilarious to say about a crappy band's crappy lyrics.  Not that doing that takes more energy -- it's pretty easy and comes naturally.  I'm pretty sure that it takes more energy to watch linoleum curl.

Sooo.... what will I write instead?  How about a story about a marble named Dave?

DAVE THE MARBLE
by The Tuna

See, Dave was just like any other marble in the bag.  He was glass, he was round, and he had one of those freaky colored swirling patterns stuck inside him like a semi-permanent visible acid trip.  But one thing Dave wasn't was complacent.  He wasn't happy to sit around and be knocked about and dropped and grabbed by grubby little kid fingers like the other marbles, especially this one loser named Carl.

Now unlike Dave, Carl, a marble with a pattern inside that looked like a constipated goldfish, was more than happy to just be a marble.  As a matter of fact, it somewhat offended him how badly Dave wanted to be free and see the world.

He tried to convince Dave.  "Now Dave, come on, you're just a tiny glass ball!  There's no life out there for you!"

"But Carl," retorted Dave, "How can I know that without seeing it and deciding for myself?"

That question actually stopped Carl long enough for Dave to make his move.  With one mighty push of his glass muscles (they exist, look it up), Dave rolled off the table (the kid was playing with his marbles on the table, did I forget to mention that?) and onto the floor.  The particular house the kid lived in had very poor foundations and was therefore slightly skewed, so he immediately began to roll.  Carl yelled after him, but Dave paid him no heed.  Only seconds passed before he rolled out the open door (also, there was no weather striping or sill on the door.  The people who owned this place paid a fortune in heating bills).

Oh, the glorious freedom!  The kid was a shut-in, so Dave had never been outside.  And what a world it was out there!  The blue skies, the warm sun on his glass face (unlike yours truly, Dave did not live in the Pacific Northwest), the warm breeze!  Blades of green grass shot toward the sky as though crying for freedom, the same freedom he now felt!  Birds twittered joyously as though celebrating his feat!  This... this was living.  He did not know how to describe his life before this moment, except that he could no longer call it life.

Then he bounced into the street and a car ran over him, thereby reinforcing that one should never shed conformity for a moment of bliss because the ensuing pain is just totally not worth it.

*     *     *

Wow, I'm laughing at myself for writing that.  Well, hope I didn't ruin your day.  Go have a ball!  But not a glass one that bounces into the street.  Ciao!

Views On Music And Why I Hate Hoobastank

You know, I'm one of the first people to admit that my views on music are odd, and I'm not just talking about the kind of music I personally enjoy.  Finnish symphonic metal bands aren't everyone's cup of tea and I understand that.  But I really do have odd views on the whole spectrum of music as a whole.

I know, that makes no sense.  But consider first how people's general views of band or artist usually line up pretty well with their perception of their skill.  It looks kind of like this:

Notice how it's a fairly linear graph from left to right, with almost perfect correlation between the two values.

Now I've noticed something odd -- my opinion of bands and artists doesn't follow this linear graph.  Rather, it seems to be more of a bell curve when graphed along with skill, and not a particularly uniform one at that.  I love a great band, but I maintain a certain amount of respect for terrible bands, because more often than not they're trying and you can tell they're having fun.  My true ire is saved for those mediocre, middle of the road bands that have just enough talent to sound decent but not enough drive to actually rise above sounding like everyone else.  Observe:

I really don't think this is too harsh.

So who falls into that middle of the road category?  You probably know them pretty well.  Bands like Nickelback.  The Jonas Brothers.  I'm sorry, but Coldplay.  Artists like Cyrus, Beiber and the rest of all those Disney Channel androids.  I'd put Creed here but they've been done ten years now and that'd be disrespectful to the dead.

And of course, my ultimate nemesis, who is so hated that I refuse to write their name correctly and insist on referring to them by a clever pseudonym I made up:  Hoobasuck.  I do not understand how anyone could possess talent and willfully choose mediocrity over actually going somewhere.  If you listen to them (please understand, I'm not actually recommending you do this), you can tell that they know their instruments.  They can play.  The lead singer can sing, although he could stand to not, you know, sound like every other frontman in the business.

But they choose this mediocrity.  It's all bland, uninspired, sounds exactly like a huge mishmash of everyone else, and it just aggravates me to no end.  Even their lyrics are terrible:

What do I have to do / to get inside of you / to get inside of you / Cause I love the way you move / when I'm inside of you / when I'm inside of you

That's sick and stalker-esque, not to mention downright irritating.  I come up with better lyrics by farting through a cardboard tube. 

You know what man?  If you're writing tons of songs like that about a girl that left you, I've got a pretty good idea why she left.

Forgive me, but these guys really get me going.  I feel it's only appropriate at this point to end this angry rant with the following image:

Back from the dead

I do this weird thing sometimes where I'll give something a good, solid try for a while, and then stop.  This doesn't happen because I get bored of it, necessarily.  Rather, it happens because I get busy with something else and flat out forget about it.

In this case I was too busy singing and dancing in the streets to blog, but I'm all done with that and back to stay, I promise.  I've been pepper-sprayed one too many times in the last few weeks and blogging is much safer.

Now this doesn't mean I was part of the Occupy protests, because those people are silly and think that real change comes from people camping in parks.  I'm just trying to manufacture a meme as funny as pepper-spray cop.

Up next, watch as I apply critical thinking to and deconstruct Hoobastank lyrics!

A Pointless Post

I use this blog for a lot of things.  Sometimes I rant and make myself look like a huge arse, sometimes I pontificate, sometimes I geek out.

Right now, I'm using it to say that I use it for lots of things.  I've got nothing else.

Come back tomorrow.

EDIT: Also, I like 'Neutron Star Collision' by Muse. Now which one of their producers thought it'd be just fantastic to have it headline the third Twilight film and have it be about the main characters?  Watch the music video.  Doesn't matter that there's Twicrap footage spliced in -- he's obviously not singing about them.