So, I saw Iron Man 3 last night. No spoilers here, but I enjoyed it. I realized something about the franchise as a whole: I never thought I’d say this, but I prefer Terence Howard’s Rhodey to Don Cheadle’s. Even though their relationship ebbs and flows, Tony and Rhodey aren’t the buddy cop movie that they are in the Cheadle movies. Cheadle’s kind of a simp (check urban dictionary if you don’t know what that means). Give him a suit, and he’s happy. Howard, however, gave a little more push-back, more resistance with Tony, which is more inline with the character. Plus, Howard felt more like a military man, while Cheadle feels like an off duty cop. You don’t get the same sense of decorum from him, and he’s out of his uniform more than he’s in it. Howard recently said that Cheadle was always the first choice, and that his agent had gotten him the role. That’s why he wasn’t too upset when he was recast. Still, I have to think the casting director thought they’d be getting House of Lies Don Cheadle, when they instead got Golden Palace Don Cheadle. Other than that, I’ve got no major fanboy quibbles with the film. We’ll discuss more once everyone’s seen it.
Speaking of comic book movies, Justin Aclin wrote a great post about colorblind casting in superhero movies. If you didn’t know, a rumor surfaced this week that black actor Michael B. Jordan is being courted to play Johnny Storm in the Fantastic Four reboot. Just like with the Donald Glover/Amazing Spider-Man controversy, there’s a bunch of “Why are you making him black? He’s white! I’m not racist for saying that! He’s always been white!” Well, maybe that’s why the franchise doesn’t work. I actually liked the last two Fantastic Four movies because A) I didn’t expect much and B) they were comic accurate, as they were just as boring as the books. I swear, I don’t care how you try to jazz them up, the Fantastic Four concept is boring as fuck. They’re sold as “Marvel’s First Family”, but they’re only interesting when they’re dysfunctional. My very first issue was when Sue redesigned her costume to make it more revealing so that Reed would notice her. Here she was, the MILF of the Marvel Universe, and her husband didn’t even pay attention to her. That was interesting. Instead, they do a bunch of boring shit now. Maybe it’s the state of the world, or I’m a huge cynic, but I’d probably enjoy it more if they were constantly in need of family counseling with Doc Samson or something. The boring, white, milquetoast family just doesn’t interest anyone anymore. So I say make him black. Stir the pot a little. Hell, cast Jaden Smith if ya want. And make Reed Richards from India. Not all smart guys are white, and comedian Russell Peters taught us you can have an Indian dude with a Western name.
The greatest trick the devil ever played was convincing us that Coolio was ever a “gangsta”.
On a related note, who the fuck is L.V., and whatever happened to him? Oh, he was shot? I guess he was the gangsta referenced in the song!
This will only interest local folks, but it’s worth discussing. Last Saturday, after 24 years on the air, local DJ Jack Diamond was canned from his morning show. This is a big deal, as he was an institution around here. He had the show for 24 years! Hell, most radio stations flip formats after 4. I discovered him just as I was catching up to contemporary music.
A lot of people know this, but I listened to country from birth til about the age of 10. I got out just before Garth Brooks, which is why I don’t get the hype, nor do I chime in with all the drunks when they start singing “Friends In Low Places”. At this point in time, it may be hard to believe, but there was no real “pop”. Sure, there was NKOTB, but most of that stuff played on stations we’d now label “adult contemporary” (a post for another time, but “pop” didn’t really make a comeback until around ’95). I used to carpool with a teacher at school, and she’d listen to Jack Diamond’s show. Jack’s sidekicks were Barbara Britt and Bert. The inside joke of the show was that they only had “7 beloved listeners”. They had normal morning show banter, but it was safe for kids, and there were no cheater scams or sex tales. I loved it so much that I went home and changed my radio’s dial to Jack’s station. I used to sleep with the radio on, so I got used to Don Henley and Wilson Philips singing me to sleep and waking me up. Eventually, “pop” would make its triumphant return, and I’d move to stations that played that music. I left Jack Diamond behind, and eventually Barbara and Bert left, too. Jack got new sidekicks and kept chugging along. Over the past year, I’d heard rumblings about contract disputes, but never thought it was serious. Meanwhile, the story got Shakespearean. You see, Bert spent the last 10 yrs or so building his name in Atlanta – basically becoming as big a star there as Jack is here. So, imagine everyone’s shock last Saturday when it was announced that not only was Jack fired, but Bert would be taking over his show. The student becomes the master. Anyway, I wish Jack well. I’d heard he was kind of a dick, but I wouldn’t expect anything less from a local celebrity. I’m sure he’ll land on his feet somewhere, but it’s a sad day for DC radio.
Last weekend, I had to go to Ocean City for some mega birthday weekend for some of Lindsay’s friends. On Saturday, we went out to dinner, but as we pulled into the parking lot, we noticed what appeared to be a young couple putting their child in their trunk. Immediately, I knew the dad was a douche because he was wearing salmon pants. For you folks “secure in your masculinity”, that means “pink”. The girls were in a hurry to drink, so we didn’t linger. Once inside, we tried to verify amongst ourselves that we had all seen what we thought we had seen. The couple came in, and dude was drunk as shit. Oh yeah – there was no kid with them. So, we start wondering “Did they put the kid in the trunk so they could keep drinking?” Pink Pants was shitfaced, and his wife just had a doting headshake about her, kinda like a 50s sitcom mom. PP started talking to the folks in our group, but no one would ask about the kid. I really wanted to know, ’cause he might be running out of air. I forgot to mention that we all work for schools, so, technically, we’ve got to report this kind of thing to CPS. The problem is that we had NO PROOF. Eventually, someone asked him and he got really pissed. He said something like, “Yeah, I shoved him down in there”, and we couldn’t tell if he was joking or not. At this point, I decided to take a cue from Spider-Man: “Sorry, man. Not my problem.” Of course, this means Pink Pants would later kill my uncle. Eventually, a girl in their group screamed, “You’re an embarrassment!” at PP. They left soon afterwards. Once they were gone, I said a quiet prayer: “Everyone has a moment to be a hero, and I chose to ignore mine. I treated it like a bus, figuring another would come along. Anyway, RIP Trunk Kid.” Later that night, we saw the couple pull up to Seacrets in a cab. Still, no kid with them. So, either they left him with the grandparents, or they simply got tired of the smell…
Did I go too far there? Good, ’cause I needed to brace you for another controversial thought. This will probably keep me from ever running for public office, but here it goes. Dear homeless women: YOU’RE DOING IT WRONG! I staunchly believe that there should be no such thing as a homeless woman. Due to sexual politics, no woman should ever find herself out on the streets for a prolonged period of time. Why is that? Well, I’m glad you asked. The world is FULL of quiet, soft-spoken, possibly ugly, lonely men. These aren’t the guys who are trolling bars for minge. No, these are the guys who lived with their mother until she died, and now they don’t know what to do with themselves. They’re used to being taken care of, but don’t really know how to fill that void. If I were a woman who was either homeless, or felt an onset of homelessness on the way, I would seek out these men, and I’d be just fine. Some of you are probably saying, “But you’d be using him, and that’s not cool.” We’d actually be using each other. I would cook for him and do whatever else, and we would take care of each other’s needs. “But you wouldn’t love him!” Let’s be mature about this. The western concept of love is some Hollywood bullshit. Everyone wants that story of “I was in the supermarket, and we both reached for the same cantaloupe!” That’s sweet, but what I’m describing is not much different from an arranged marriage. I feel like two things might happen: A) you’d actually be into him instantly OR B) you’d learn to love him. I’m not saying you have to be in love with him, but you’d still come to respect him for what he had done in your life. Sex isn’t everything. Hell, if I had to bang an old man every couple of weeks, instead of fending off rapists and getting a meth addiction on the streets, I say, “Saddle up, grandpa!” The man put a roof over your head, let you drive his car, and kept you safe. You would fucking learn to love and appreciate him. Believe that!
Links I Loved
c2e2 2013 Round Up! (The Robot’s Pajamas)
(Aunt) May Day (Cold Slither Podcast)
Reunited with an Uncanny piece of my past… (Branded In The 80s)
This Week’s Posts
Monday Musings – Mutation Inconsistencies in the 80s TMNT Universe
And be sure to check out Will’s World of Wonder for all your action figure and collectible needs!
One of them is old-timey “happy” to be playing basketball, while another just lost his morning job. One just sold her staged “sex tape” to Vivid for $1M, while the other is Iron Man. But only one could have the West Week Ever.
You know who he is. He’s Iron Man! In the words of Stan “The Man” Lee, “Nuff Said!” This is why Robert Downey Jr/Tony Stark had the West Week Ever.