Joseph Wiseman – RIP

Joseph Wiseman, best known for playing the original Bond nemesis, Doctor No in Dr. No (1962), died October 19, 2009 in his Manhattan residence at the age of 91.

Joseph Wiseman
1918-2009

Atari 2600 Label Maker

From Dead Robot.

My take on it…

Masters of the Universe – Evil Warriors

How many can you name?

Click image to enlarge

(Being a serious geek, I got about 90% and had to research the remainder)

Haiku Movie Review™ – Die Another Day (2002)

Tidal wave surfing
Madonna and bullet-time
What a total mess

Haiku Movie Review™ – The World Is Not Enough (1999)

Q’s last appearance.
Pierce ok, X-mas Jones nay,
Elektra King yay!

Haiku Movie Review™ – Tomorrow Never Dies (1997)

Media mogul
Plots WWIII to get ratings
Insane bike sequence

…

Sheryl Crow theme tune
k.d. Lang song is better
Producers agree

Haiku Movie Review™ – GoldenEye (1995)

First at bat for Pierce,
MI-6 Agent gone bad,
Bone-crushing thighs – fun.

Haiku Movie Review™ – License to Kill (1989)

Dalton’s Swan Song is
A gritty, violent and
Really fine movie.

Haiku Movie Review™ – The Living Daylights (1987)

Dalton is new Bond
Exciting, taut spy thriller
Not much else to say

Haiku Movie Review™ – A View To A Kill (1985)

Walken and Jones rule
Moore looks like a crypt keeper
Awesome climax though

Haiku Movie Review™ – Octopussy (1983)

Moore’s Bond is way suave
Chasing eggs in India
Octopus bed, yo!

Haiku Movie Review™ – For Your Eyes Only (1981)

Haven’t posted a Haiku Movie Review in a while and realized I never did complete my Bond series…

Bond skiing, bobsleighs
Blofeld finally bites it
What’s there not to like?

Crack Dip

My friend Glen and I try to get together on a weekly basis.  When we do end up hanging out, the host for that week makes something for the both of us to snack on while we laugh at the absurdity of America’s Next Top Model, or So You Think You Can Dance, or any of the multitude of crappy reality shows that are polluting the current airwaves.

One of my favourite things to make (not to mention eat) is a recipe I found a long, long time ago for a Spicy Mexican Dip.  I can’t really recall the original name of it, but most people who’ve eaten it since agree that “Crack Dip” is the most apt designation; there hasn’t been a night when Glen and I have eaten it that I haven’t wanted to down the entire dish myself.  A bad idea, albeit a deliciously sinful one.

J made one request this weekend – that I make him Crack Dip on Sunday for our weekly football watching session.  I can’t ever really say no, so I gladly trotted off to the store to get the ingredients just before the football game commenced.  For fun, I thought I would put the recipe on my blog for anyone who might like to try it.  It is probably the easiest recipe I have in my entire recipe box and is undoubtedly one of the best.

First, pre-heat your oven to 375°F.

Next, take a 9×9 baking dish (about 2 inches deep) and spread cream cheese on the bottom.  I like to attempt to make this otherwise un-health-conscious recipe a little bit less ‘damaging’ so I try to use low fat cream cheese.

I’ve found the 95% Fat Free variety spreads the easiest, too.

Get two cans of your favourite chili.  I normally used President’s Choice Vegetarian Chili, which contains textured vegetable protein and is about half the calories and fat of the normal beef chili I used here.  Sadly, the store near me didn’t have it.

Empty the two cans into a large mixing bowl and add about a cup and a half of shredded cheese.  The spicy kind usually works best.

Stir the chili and cheese together and add some hot sauce if you so desire…

Spread the mixture over the cream cheese layer.

Sprinkle half a cup of the shredded cheese on top.

Place in the oven…

Set the timer for 15 minutes.

When done, the Crack Dip should be bubbling at the edges and the cheese on top should be completely melted.

Serve with tortillas and plenty of paper towels.

Enjoy!

…of ALL TIME!

And just because…

CHAMPEENS!

This past weekend, Big Bats went to the playoffs. One game Friday, one game Saturday and…ugh…THREE games on Sunday.

In the end, we were victorious!!

A great season was capped off with a few great playoff games.

Congratulations, guys! See ya next summer!

Here fishy, fishy…

Last night, I tried my luck at fishing at Ashbridges Bay, which is much closer to home than Tommy Thompson Park.

View Larger Map

Alas, I had no luck (AGAIN), but I did enjoy myself immensely.  Especially with this view…

Weekend Round-Up

Greetings all.

Friday night was a quiet one.

Saturday afternoon, J and I played our last regular season game of softball.  Our team won (of course)…and the slowly increasing implosion of the opposing team was definitely entertaining.  So entertaining, in fact, that I flubbed a play whilst my attention was diverted (both the right-fielder and captain of the other team were screaming at each other in the dugout as their team was at bat – classy).  This Friday, Saturday (and possibly) Sunday, we’re in the playoffs.  Should be fun!

In the evening, J and I had Dead Robot and Sharkboy over for dinner.  Was fun to finally have them over to the new place.  After eating and a short flurry of video games, we headed out to see 9.  Good movie, but I feel like bratty, snot-nosed children shouldn’t be allowed to attend a film (at least not a film I’m watching) without adult supervision.  The whole “seen and not heard” thing is really losing momentum in the new millenium.  Sad.

Sunday, J headed to Tai Chi and I decided to try my luck at fishing in Tommy Thompson Park on the Leslie Spit.  After a stop at Canadian Tire and a loooong bike ride out there (it’s always farther than I think it’s going to be), I arrived at the footbridge.  I stayed about 2 hours, with no luck whatsoever.  I did see a large fish seemingly interested in a silver spoon lure but alas, he/she didn’t even nibble.  Nearing the end of my two hours, some knob-ass showed up and started casting off the shore just behind the footbridge.  On about his 5th cast, he hauled in an arms length carp.  Jackass.

I headed home, sunburned and annoyed.  J and I made turkey burgers and sweet potatoes on the barbecue.  SWEET!

A Bike Commuter’s Perspective

In recent days, a rather large spotlight has been shone on cyclists in the city stemming from the tragic death of bike courier Darcy Allan Sheppard.  I’m rather conflicted over the entire thing; trying not to take sides with the motorist or the cyclist, coming from my own frame of reference as a bike commuter.

I really don’t have a clue what happened that night when the courier was killed.  I can say that grabbing onto a car in a blind rage about a minor collision isn’t smart, nor is driving away in a blind rage with a cyclist attached to your car.  The complexities of the incident are a little overwhelming.

In any event, as a bike commuter, I am often at odds with motorists on the streets of the city.  All the complaints seem to boil down to one common theme – being invisible.  That’s not to say I don’t wear sufficient reflective gear, or that I don’t have a bell to signal said motorists; they just seem to completely ignore anything that’s not surrounded by a huge metal box, hurtling down the street at excessive speeds.

One afternoon, on my way home from work, I was travelling eastbound on Dundas, just having passed Yonge.  I was travelling at a good speed.  The upcoming light at Victoria Street and Dundas was green (and the little white walky dude was still showing) so I didn’t need to slow down.  As I approached the light, a car came up beside me, passed me and immediately proceeded to turn directly into my path as they went right onto Victoria.  The car at the time that it cut me off and forced me to brake was about two feet in front of my front wheel.

I had to slam on my brakes, causing my bike to nearly throw me.  I shouted, “What the FUCK are you doing?!” and proceeded to punch the back right hand part of the car (which I could reach without getting off my bike, by the way).  It wasn’t until about ten yards down Victoria that the passenger of the car notified the driver that she’d nearly hit me.

I’ve had similar incidents to this one, where my bike is my own personal invisible jet (except that when riding it, I don’t look like a Barbie doll at all – I am also invisible!).  For the most part, motorists seem to not be tuned in to watching for cyclists.

There is the other side, though, and I am as likely to complain about fellow cyclists on the road as I am to complain about inattentive motorists. The flagrant disregard for traffic laws, most commonly the red light or stop sign, really makes my blood boil.  I honestly don’t know how cyclists expect to be given specific lanes on traffic roads and have no eye towards the actual laws that govern its use.  I commonly (just this morning, in fact) see people come whizzing past me as I’m waiting patiently at a stop light.

Being a 95% law abiding commuter¹, it also annoys me when other commuters, through a disregard for the law, put my life in danger.  This morning, I had to pass an older woman who rides along the same route as me (at a much slower pace, mind you).  This is fine – I have no issue passing a slow cyclist once.  My issue comes when instead of lining up single file at a stop light, they’ll ride up beside, or more commonly just go right in front of me, and then start up at the green – plodding and screeching their way through the intersection.  Or, as said above, they won’t stop at all…they’ll meander slowly through the intersection and continue on their merry way.  My issue arises from the fact that not only have I had to go into traffic to pass them once, but their complete boobery when it comes to stop signs or etiquette has now forced me to pass them twice.  If you’re slow, stay slow – don’t use someone’s following the rules to gain an advantage on them (we call that cheating in other circles…).

I couldn’t give a crap if they themselves get mowed down through this activity – to be perfectly frank, if you’re stupid enough to go flying into an intersection on a bike without seeing what traffic might be approaching, you’re too stupid to live.  On the other hand, if they do this on bikes, who is to say what they do when behind the wheel of a car?  Certainly a bike provides minimal protection from an impact.  The thought of being behind the wheel of a steel beast with shiny chrome fenders must galvanize their resolve to give laws, the city and their own life, the middle finger.

A more interesting issue that’s been discussed in light of the courier death is that of road rage.  The aftermath and ultimate death of the courier were entirely based on blind rage getting out of hand.  The collision itself was just that – an accident, but everything that followed was under the complete control of the driver of the car and the driver of the bike.  Even I count myself among the suffers of road rage – my punching the car that cut me off was entirely uncalled for.

It did feel fantastic, though…

¹I often head down the street behind my office building going against the flow of traffic – it’s one-way – but a total of about 10 cars per day use the road so it’s not like I’m re-enacting the freeway scene from the Matrix Reloaded, people)

FanExpo 2009

This past weekend, J, Dead Robot, Sharkboy and yours truly met up for breakfast before hitting FanExpo 2009 at the Metro Convention Centre.  After waiting a half hour in line to purchase tickets…we then got into another line to just enter the vendor area.  About twenty minutes into THAT line, J and I decided that we should just jump into the line to see Leonard Nimoy instead (we’d had a small…miniscule…lottery winning that allowed us to buy mid-level tickets).   So we jumped into the other line and about an hour later, the great man appeared…

The talk was very entertaining and he was very nice.  I gotta say though, some people become complete douches when confronted with their favourite celebrity.  People have lined up an hour to see Nimoy speak, not to listen to you ramble on about stupid bullshit that is important to no one, save your pathetic self…knowattamean?
We also lined up to see Avery Brooks, who was pretty damn cool.  Again, one audience member asked a question that was literally 10 minutes long.  Sit down and shut up.  No one cares about some stupid essay on thematic terrorism you wrote in your mom’s basement while dreaming of actually kissing a real girl.

Unfortunately, with all the lining up and seeing people speak, we didn’t end up hanging out that much with Dead Robot and Sharkboy, which is a shame because I was looking forward to that as much as the FanExpo.  Anyway, there were loads of cool costumes (most of which I didn’t manage to take pics of) and lots of B-level celebs looking for a quick buck.  Sweet.

Full flickr set of photos here.

I thought they smelled bad…on the outside…

Coolest. Star Wars. Merchandise. Ever.

In a similar vein, I’m super stoked about the FanExpo occuring in Toronto this weekend!

WTF?!

On the way to work on the streetcar this morning, I noticed a dead cat that had been placed atop someones garbage outside their house.  WTF?!

J and I went to the Eaton Centre at lunch and as we were leaving, we saw a pigeon killed as it tried to fly through a cyclist’s spinning wheels.  Two girls screamed and the cyclist kept going as the pigeon flipped in the air.  The thing flopped down and took off again, flying erratically.  Again it hit the ground and as J walked over to it, he saw it’s eyes close and it died. WTF?!

Jaws 3-D

Check out my review @ The Split Diopter.

Hell’s Kitchen – Season 6 – Episode 3

“I ain’t nobody’s bitch!”

You are (and I suspect shall be forever) a complete douchebag who will be momentarily remembered as the assclown who threatened Chef Gordon Ramsey with physical violence (on his own TV show as he was surrounded by security).  Oooh, snap.

Friday the 13th – Part III – 3D

See my review at The Split Diopter.

“I’m alive…!”

Okay, so I’ve not really been in a blogging mood in…hmmm…8 months or so.  Slowly coming around.

And yes, this entry contains little actual content short of being an excuse to post an image from Xanadu.

The Split Diopter

Mornin’ y’all…

I’ve started a sub-blog to this one, entitled “The Split Diopter.”   The blog will focus only on film (and possibly TV once in a while).  Check back for updates!

Sean

Tips for Retards™ – Tip #45

This isn’t so much a tip as a recounting of my run-in with a local retard.

I get to my building on Tuesday night and didn’t immediately want to commit homocide of some kind.  This is likely due to the fact that my building management has decided to plunk down some of its surplus cash and improve the relative dump that is my building.  I have always maintained, however, that I love my apartment itself¹.  The reason I moved there was because of the space I was living in, not the space outside my hallway.  But I digress…

…I enter the building and head to the new, snazz-o-fied ^© elevators.  As I hate everyone, I generally try to avoid going up in the elevators with anyone in hopes of evading the inevitable, useless and trite conversation homo sapiens are forced to engage in order to maintain the planet-wide illusion that they give a shit about the meat-bag next to them.   This particular day, I was lucky enough to encounter a scooter-bound brontosaurus (who had parked directly in front of one of the elevator cars so as to prevent anyone unfortunate enough to be riding in it any hopes of escaping the metal death-box) and another goober who was shiftily waiting behind him².

I wanted nothing to do with this side-show-Laurel-and-Hardy;  I continued walking to my mailbox.  Rounding the corner to the mail room,  I heard the elevator “ding!” followed by the screaming of strained metal and informercial-purchased gears as the scooter lurched slowly forward.   I arrived at my mailbox.  From what I could hear, it was apparent that the bronto-scooter didn’t really count on the goober behind him wanting to actually use the elevator.  Like a good douche, he stopped immediately upon entering the car, leaving no room for anyone else.  Not to be outdone, the Goober took it upon himself to force an entry anyway.  He crowbarred his goober-girth into the 2 available inches behind the scooter.

“Dude!  My feet!  DUDE!  MY FEET!  SHIT!  FUCK!”

My snickering was audible.

“Fuck man!  My feet!”

I closed my mailbox and started back towards the elevators.

“Fuck!  Ah – that’s ok, Chris…I’ll take the next one.”

The thought being such a world-class fucktard to a “friend” made it all the sweeter.  Laughing loudly, I got to the elevator bank and hit the “Up” button.  The next elevator came seconds later; I entered.  Goober followed quickly behind me and hit his floor.

You fucking asshole.

I think I actually said it before hitting “25.”

¹this would seem to fly in the face of the notice I gave my landlord on April 1, 2009, but these kind of plot loopholes only serve to exacerbate the constant migraine  that I endure daily.

²I have previously encountered said goober in the laundry room:  On that particular day, I had noticed that the vents must have been blocked, causing the dryers to not heat up at all.  The result was a lot of hour-long-tumbled clothing, still sopping wet.  I warned Goober of this tragedy.  He looked at me blankly and said, “That’s ok – I don’t live in the building.  I live in a halfway house near here.”   I was bathed in relief…

I has returned…

…from my survey mission to Meeeeeepzorp XII.  With a glad heart, I report to Star Command that I successfully eradicated the dust bunny infestestion of the third moon of Meeeeeepzorp.  Commanderette Zircon…OUT.

City of Pillars – Dominic Peloso

A Mini Book Expo Review

City of Pillars

Dominic Peloso

Product Details

• Paperback: 220 pages
• Publisher: Invisible College Press (December 1, 2000)
• ISBN-10: 1931468001
• ISBN-13: 978-1931468008

Shipping within Canada & US sponsored by Invisible College Press

I seem to be having a run of bad luck with my MiniBook Expo selections lately.

City of Pillars by Dominic Peloso follows the spiralling decent into madness of it’s narrator, Mitchell Sinclair, after he is mistakingly (or so he thinks)  saddled with an ancient manuscript while stopped at a commuter toll-booth in San Francisco.  A series of credibility challenging events follow the character until he has no other choice but to invest his entire existence in the pursuit of deciphering the mystery and violence.  As Mitchell Sinclair’s insatiable obsession drives him deeper into the convoluted world of the multi-lingual tome, his ethics, morals and sanity melt away.

An interesting idea to be sure, but as it is now, City of Pillars doesn’t completely work.  As one other blogger pointed out, the fundamental problem with the book is the writing.  Presented as a confessional by Mitchell Sinclair, the entire story is told in the first-person.  This approach may have worked with a more adept novelist, but Dominic Peloso doesn’t appear up to the task.  I have never read Peloso’s other work; however, an assessment based on City of Pillars would not be in his favour.

Sinclair is a very loosely drawn character and the author never really engages with the reader, save for the first couple chapters.  As the novel opens, the protagonist and his world are fascinating.  As the novel progresses, however, the outlandish and (frankly) unbelievable violence and perils that befall Sinclair leave the reader feeling bored.  The final chapters of the novel especially push the credibility of the character and the premise completely.

Had City of Pillars been presented as a longer, more in depth examination of trauma-induced insanity, I might have been more impressed; sadly, the City of Pillars I read was unimpressive.

Oscars 2009

Not gonna write a huge entry about the Academy Awards, but just a few things…

YAY

• Sean Penn’s acceptable speech
• Hugh Jackman’s opening musical number
• 5 previous winners presenting the acting awards
• Wall-E being featured so prominently

NAY

• Hugh Jackman’s mid-show musical number (WTF?)
• Sophia Loren’s barf-inspired “gown”
• No acting clips (WTF?)
• Wall-E’s song being performed by someone other than the Great Peter Gabriel (who was sitting in the audience)
• Unapologetic homophobe Jerry Lewis picking up a humanitarian award
• Kate Winslet’s speech (OTT fur rurlz)