Funky Shit Friday is where I’m, most every Friday, going to dig out and ramble on about some really neat, but really weird shit. Now when it comes to weird shit, there are some generalities you can come to expect. For example, weird medical stuff usually involves someone surviving some really awful gruesome injury, often self inflicted and often leaving the men in the audience gripping their family jewels in empathetic agony. Weird history stuff tends to be really cool, but only ever as cool as any coincidence could be. I suppose I could coincidentally be staying in the hotel room next door to where they’re filming “Ali Baba and the 40 Horny Co-eds” and just so happen to be walking by when they discover they need a new actor to play the head character? Oh yes, pun intended, and that would be a pretty cool coincidence.
The summer is always a little tough on me. See, when I was a kid my parents (and thankfully so) went out of their way to steer me clear of electronic amusement and play outside, a view that these days gets CPS called on you. Now I’m glad my parents made me get up and go play. In all honesty, those days I spent outside falling out of trees and into blackberry brambles are some of my favorites, but today it leaves me with a bit of a quandary. I, like a fair few of you, am a gamer, and as much as I REALLY want to be outside, direct sun isn’t very conducive to several gaming prerequisites, such as being able to see the screen. Even most handhelds turn into little more then expensive mirrors emanating the terrible death throes of your character, unseen beneath the reflective sheen of that fiery celestial ball, laughing at you from on high.
So again, a quandry. How do I sate my childhood need to play outside with my need to enjoy engaging, interactive entertainment that has nothing to do with the skins of pigs or grids made of iron (unless I’m racing some sort of mechanical death machine across it) or generally any activity having to do with traditional organized sports. Well, in an effort to help those facing the same sort of conundrum (as well as the ones who feel bad for NOT facing that conundrum. Seriously, get off your ass and go outside) I have compiled a brief (and cheap) list of some time tried options that should suit your needs.
I mentioned earlier that used to work for a large, rapidly imploding movie rental chain. One of the things that I always enjoyed most about that job was not just watching pretty much every movie under the sun (usually with a little bit of Am-Hi-Co incense handy), but also talking about them with my regulars. I truly miss that, and so it only makes sense that I should resurrect that particular pastime now that I have a viable forum to do so. And lucky you, you get to come along for the ride. My first victim? The Green Hornet.
I had a lot of hopes for this movie. I tend to enjoy the movie versions of lesser known pop adventures, even when Billy Zane spends 90 minutes aping Alec Baldwin. But the Green Hornet, an old radio serial? I mean, Kevin Smith has been writing this script for ages, right? Well, contrary to what you may have heard from any number of sources, Kevin Smith had pretty much nothing to do with this version. Rather, it was co-written by it’s star, Seth Rogen, and some other guy. Lets check out the trailer. Do be aware that from here on in, spoilers abound.
I know that saying that is corny, the default offering for most blogs and personal web spaces and such, but being that we are out here on the web where literally the entire world could see this if they wanted to. Not that they want to. Not even that I really want to. Writing for the entire world doesn’t sound fun at all. I mean, think of the people that would end up reading it. That, and I’m pretty sure Glenn Beck would cry himself to death if he were ever on the same mailing list as Kim Jong Il.
But the point is, here I am. Now let me explain to you why you should give a shit. I’m a “writer” who has made a living doing anything but up until this point. I’ve scrubbed toilets, flipped burgers, peddled scratched DVDs for Titanic Movie Rental (whose real name I won’t use for real fear of being sued into oblivion, but I’m sure the reference is clear). I even repossessed cars at one point. But I’ve never stopped writing. And sometimes coincidence produces strange bedfellows.
Enter Am-Hi-Co. These fine folks produce some damn fine products, the specifics of which I won’t get into other then offering you a link to their snazzy site with a big thumbs up. In my dealings with them, it came to pass (again, details aren’t important) that they expressed interest in my abilities and offered me small compensation to write, well, about whatever. Almost whatever, anyway. Entertaining whatever. So here is to you being entertained!