The Happening
Another M. Night
Movie makes us wonder if
He just stole Sixth Sense

The Incredible Hulk
Fooled once, shame on me
Fooled twice, shame on, uh, fool me
Won’t get fooled again

The Love Guru
Myers talks funny
His character is wacky
Seen it all before

Get Smart
Remaking old shows
Rarely good idea. Bet they
Missed it by that much

Wanted
Lots of bullets fly
Ridiculous action scenes
Hope its dark as comic

Wall-E
Can robot find love
In this great big universe?
Hope he’s got some lube.

Hancock
Will Smith hero flick
Can’t do this all on his own
He’s no Superman

Hellboy II: The Golden Army
Was the first Hellboy
Good enough to warrant a
Second installment?

Journey to the Center of the Earth
3-D makes films fun
Every film should be 3-D
Except Crying Game

Meet Dave
Has it really been
20 years since Eddie made
A funny movie?

The Dark Knight
Return to Gotham
Joker ain’t the only fool
To make this awesome

Mamma Mia!
Girl with slutty mom
Doesn’t know who daddy is
This just in: Who cares?

Step Brothers
Lets hope Ferrell tried
A little harder this time
Than in Semi-Pro

The X-Files: I Want to Believe
Wait just a second
Is there anyone out there
That still cares about this?

American Teen
This looks pretty good
But who wants to relive the
The awkward teen years

The Mummy: Tomb of the Dragon Emperor
Another mummy?
Rachel Weisz wisely jumped ship
We should do the same

The Rocker
This looks funny but
Can Rainn carry a movie?
My guess is he can.

Swing Vote
Are we to believe
Diebold would let this guy choose
Who gets elected?

The Midnight Meat Train
This wins for the worst
titled film until Bangcock
Dangerous comes out

Pineapple Express
Stoner movies aren’t
Usually good seen straight but
This could be funny

The Sisterhood of the Traveling Pants
There’s no way these girls
Can still fit after gaining
The freshman fifteen

Tropic Thunder
Downey Jr. rules
But can he stay afloat with
Stiller and Jack Black

Star Wars; The Clone Wars
Lucas craps out more
Star Wars and I have no choice
but to go see it

Through my friend’s misfortune I was the lucky recipient of a free trip to Fabulous Las Vegas. Here’s a recap of my time in the greatest city Nevada has to offer:

Our flight arrived a little after Midnight on Thursday. After a taxi ride to our hotel and a quick change of clothes we were off to see what the strip had to offer. Famished, our first stop was Fatburger where by 1:30 I wolfed down a big ass burger with egg, cheese and bacon on it. It was so good I didn’t mind the month or so it shaved off my life expectancy.

We saw a guy in Fat Burger who looked just like former Buffalo Bill Thurman Thomas. He had the right build and his face was a perfect match. I don’t think it was him, though, since he wore no jewelry and the lady he was with was about 20% as pretty as his wife.

With full bellies we started off down the Strip making stops in each of the casinos along the way. We’d gamble a little bit here and a little bit there and were sure to make sure we drank a lot. When walking like that you must be very careful not to get dehydrated. I don’t know if I just never noticed before or if there really were more hookers out but we saw whores everywhere.

As someone who used to enjoy the Aladdin I was more than a little apprehensive about its transition into Planet Hollywood. I may not like the changes they made to the Desert Passage shopping area but there are some very nice differences to the casino. A new gambling area called the Pleasure Pit is about as perfect a gaming environment as I could imagine. There are eight tables grouped together with smoking hot dealers in their underwear and at either end of the table is a pedestal with another girl in her undies wriggling to the music. The bet limits on the tables were too rich for my blood but if I was more of a high roller you can bet where I’d be. Adjacent to the Pleasure Pit is a new bar called The Love Bar that has several of those same dancing girl pedestals throughout.

We spent the next few hours gambling up and down the strip. I had a particularly nice streak of luck at the Venetian but neither my buddy nor I managed to win a car at a slot machine no matter how hard we tried. After traveling up and down the strip we finally ended up back in the room a little after 5. I soaked my aching feet in the bathtub and then made some phone calls to friends who I knew would be just heading to work back home.

We got up about 11 the next morning and took the monorail down to the Hilton. On the monorail I watched a group of old people eating Worther’s Originals and going on and on about how good they were. I couldn’t believe my luck. I love it when I get to see stereotypes play out in real life.

After messing around at the Hilton we walked up to the Riveria. After fiddling about there for a while we were drawn across the street to Slots O’ Fun by their gigantic 99-cent hot dogs. One sign claimed the dogs were 1/2 lb and another that they were 12oz. I don’t know, but either way it was a gigantic wiener. I managed about three bites and couldn’t do anymore. My buddy managed to eat the whole thing but everyone knows he likes wieners a lot more than me.

After lunch we went next door to Circus Circus. We didn’t do any gambling there but rather headed upstairs to the carnival games. I dominated the game where you slam the frog with a hammer and send it flying into a pot. We didn’t want to carry the prizes around though, so we gave them to some loser kids who were watching us and couldn’t win their own.

After some more gambling and drinking and some time at the car museum in the Imperial Palace we went back to the room to get changed into some nicer clothes. We had a big night ahead of us what with the Little Legends show we had tickets to.

Little Legends sounded like fun but in reality was far and away the worst show I’ve ever seen in Vegas. It was advertised as a midget celebrity impersonator show but that is a generous description. They had one girl midget who just continually changed costumes. She played Alanis Morrissette, Cher, Britney Spears and maybe a few others. She sang along to an accompaniment track. Her routine would commonly be called karaoke. She was a little bit sexy though, and was the highlight of the show. Another performer was a white male midget who played drums along with a Motley Crue song. They said he was Tommy Lee. Later in the show he would reappear as Sonny Bono. The final two midgets were black males who danced as Michael Jackson and Milli Vanilli. That was fitting since the most appropriate description of the male performers would be lip-synching. Round out the cast was a full-sized terrible hack of a magician who mc’d the show. The final act featured all the midgets dressed as the Village People only there were just four of them. We got the tickets for half price and I felt ripped off.

After the show we hit the buffet at Paris where I ate about $100 worth of crab before tackling the prime rib and dessert table. Holy cow that was a great meal.

After dinner we wandered the strip for another 6 or 7 hours making sure to make plenty of stops for gambling and booze. We made sure to spend another hour or so back in the Love Bar at Planet Hollywood. It really was about as good as it gets. I was sitting in a nice comfy chair throwing down White Russians and Witty Chucks. I was surrounded by lovely ladies wriggling in their underwear and when I got tired of watching that, I could look up at a giant screen replaying an NBA game from earlier that evening.

Thirty seven hours after landing we were taking off to go back home and I was glad I had a day to recover before going back to work. I’d like to especially thank the Venetian, the Sahara and New York, New York for helping me to come home with a bit more money than I came with.

Many people never get to see their favorite bands perform live. They could be Beatles fans born in 1980 or Nirvana fans living in North Dakota. They could have gone so far as to buy tickets to see Tupac in October of ’96 or be Elton John fans who can’t afford to spend over $100 per ticket. There are many things that can keep us from the music we love.

Last week I was lucky enough to see my favorite band perform live. This was the sixth time I’d had such a privilege and I was grateful. Living in Oklahoma, about the only way you can see your favorite band that many times is to be a Steve Miller Band fan. Despite the fact that they’ve only played once in my hometown, (ten years ago), I was on my way to show number six.

This is the story of the time I watched the Counting Crows in Tulsa.

The Crows were doing a summer tour of baseball stadiums and made a stop in Tulsa at Driller Stadium. Now, I’ll admit that most of Tulsa is quite a bit cooler than my hometown of Oklahoma City, but compared to their minor league baseball stadium, ours looked like Uday’s Palace. What a dump.

It was late July and a 6:00PM start meant the temperature was still very high. This led to both positive and negative outcomes. The heat was uncomfortable and everyone was awfully sweaty. However, on the bright side, every pretty girl in Tulsa came out to the show and the heat ensured none were dressed in bulky sweaters.

As we parked and began walking towards the stadium the evening began on a decidedly sour note. A few steps from the car we saw a boy who couldn’t have been older than 16 take a big drink from a bottle of Jack and proceed to vomit all over the parking lot. It was so warm outside it wasn’t hard to imagine the barf sautéing on the smoldering asphalt.

The sounds of opening band Collective Soul filled the air as we entered the ballpark. We made a quick stop at the t-shirt stand but were quickly dissuaded by the prices. My wife didn’t want to fight the crowds of the infield so we settled into a seat in the bleachers with a nice view of the stage.

Collective Soul put on a solid rock show and the crowd received them warmly. I was surprised by how many of the songs I recognized from the radio. They made a very smart move when playing the obligatory new material no one cared about by going into an AC/DC medley in the middle of the song.

Collective Soul’s 45-minute, all-hit set was followed by another band I had heard plenty of on the radio, Third Eye Blind. TEB came out blazing and didn’t let up. Again I was impressed by how many radio hits this band has produced. A song I had heard many times but was particularly rocked by is their breakout hit “Semi-Charmed Life.” That song translated very well into the soundtrack for our open air party beneath the dwindling rays of the sun.

Sitting directly in front of us was a group of five less-than-attractive middle-aged women. In the break between bands my wife and I had a fun time trying to decide which of them we would “do” should we be forced to choose. She chose the gap-toothed brunette that walked with a cane. It was about fifteen minutes later when I realized the one I chose bore a striking resemblance to Aileen Wuornos. It was about this time we moved over to an adjacent section.

I was particularly impressed by how great both opening bands sounded. After seeing Cinderella in concert last summer and being shocked by how badly the singer’s voice has degraded it was nice to hear two bands still sound the way they are supposed to.

Whereas the first two bands came out heavy, the Counting Crows took a different approach. They calmly took the stage and then singer Adam Duritz proceeded to talk for about five minutes. Don’t get me wrong, talking about their progress on a new album and VH1 being there to film the show was interesting information. It just made for kind of a slow start to their set. Then, making their opening song a slow one from their yet-to-be-released album just about brought the night to a halt.

Ten minutes in, it seemed like this was going to be a less than stellar show. Then they announced they would be dusting off some old songs and Duritz revealed that his girlfriend had just broken up with him that afternoon and it started to feel like we might be on the verge of something special.

After the inauspicious start, the band really rounded into form and played with lots of emotion. The music was so good I felt like I had floated away from Tulsa and just kept sailing to a happier place. They followed “Perfect Blue Buildings” and “Mr. Jones” with the most heartbreaking arrangement of “Miami” I had ever heard. Song after beautiful song drifted through the night. Then, all too soon, Graham Colton came out to join the band on a spirited “Hanging Around,” signaling the end of the show. They played a couple of songs for an encore and then the night was over.

I hope this isn’t the last time I get to see the Counting Crows but in case it is, I can take solace in knowing that the last time was as good as they’ve ever been.

I drove five hundred miles through a snowstorm so I could wait five hours in single-digit temperatures to watch assholes disrespect geniuses.

I am, of course, referring to last weekend’s Soulard Mardi Gras celebration in St. Louis, at which They Might Be Giants performed a free outdoor concert. For those of you who aren’t fortunate enough to have ever experienced Mardi Gras in St Louis it is essentially an event designed to allow every jack-off in a 4-state region to get drunk while they slowly freeze to death.

Thousands and thousands of revelers braved the cold for the right to vomit on the inch of snow as they gyrated to bad cover bands and hip hop music. No doubt, many attendees will fondly remember Mardi Gras as the greatest time of their lives. After all, Mardi Gras is the fantasy that every frat boy fan of Animal House dreams of. These are the parties that made Joe Francis a millionaire. Unfortunately, it was so cold this time that Girls Gone Wild would have had to hand out parkas instead of tank tops to get the ladies to flash their goods.

(Note- I know I could be coming across as some kind of prude, sheltered pussy. Maybe I am, but let the record also indicate that Las Vegas is my favorite vacation destination. I try to go a couple of times a year and I hit it really hard while I’m there. I’m not sure what the difference is between the two, other than the fact that Vegas is classy and Mardi Gras is just a bunch of drunken buffoons. Seriously, one comes from organized crime while the other comes from Christianity. Which one do you think is going to be cooler? In Vegas, the girls take their shirts off in elaborate shows or at least for wads of cash. At Mardi Gras all it takes is some beads. Have some respect for yourselves, ladies.)

After navigating our way through the throngs of revelers we finally found the main stage where the giants would be performing in a few hours. Unfortunately, an ass-clown cover band was in the middle of their set making it physically impossible to stay anywhere within earshot of the stage.

We began to wander aimlessly. It was so cold I eventually spent an hour looking for a tauntaun to slaughter. I was distracted when I spied a guy doing his best impression of Gary in the alley in Team America: World Police. A couple of fistfights and some sluts chatting up a guy in a hot dog suit also helped me pass some time.

Finally, as I desperately looked for a reprieve from my polar pain I resigned myself to the shelter of a port-a-potty. A strange liquid covered the floor that might have been human but it was only an inch deep so I chose to ignore it so I could savor the 10 degrees of warmth afforded by the toilet.

Eventually 6:30 rolled around. The moment we’d endured all this pain and discomfort for had finally arrived. We joined a few thousand other people crammed around the stage and watched They Might Be Giants perform. The nerds joined the “cool” people in a sea of one as the Giants began their set and engulfed us in their music.

The band started off fine but their play became sloppy, presumably as the cold robbed them of feeling in their fingers. It must have been distracting, too, being continuously pelted by beads.

Forty-five minutes into the set the stage lost power. In the ensuing 30 minutes as the crew struggled to regain power, the crowd nearly broke out into a riot. By the time power was eventually re-established, the Giants only had time to play four or five songs before they were up against the noise curfew.

As I walked back to the car I was saddened by the spectacle I had just witnessed.

They Might Be Giants cut their teeth in Brooklyn so they’ve no doubt played for tougher crowds and felt colder temperatures. That’s not the point. They deserved better. The imagination and intelligence that goes into crafting their songs was completely wasted on the crowd who only an hour before had been so enthralled by an off key cover of Sweet Child of Mine.

They deserve better than that and they deserved better than you, St Louis.

“It is World War III down there. People are being killed.”

Does that line send a chill down your spine? Does a cry of “Wolverine!!!” whip you up into a purty good frenzy?

If you are a male between the ages of 25-35 those lines ought to mean something to you. They come from the classic 1984 film Red Dawn, a film that had a profound effect on an entire generation of adolescents. Cold War tension war running high in the United States and those fears were realized in the fictional exploits of a rag-tag band of high schoolers trying to survive a Soviet invasion.

No male within Red Dawn’s target audience was able to resist the urge to daydream about precisely what he would do should he find himself thrust in the same situation. Every boy calculated precisely where he would obtain weapons, which friends he would bring along, and where he would hide out.

Throw in the fact that this was the first movie ever released with the PG-13 rating and you’ve got a cinematic goldmine, evidenced by its outstanding opening weekend even though our nation’s attention was turned to the 1984 Olympic Games in Los Angeles.

Trey Parker and Matt Stone were clearly influenced by the film, as evidenced by the South Park episode “Grey Dawn.” Who can forget the chilling scene where Mr. Garrison is teaching the class about Genghis Khan as the AARP paratroopers are dropping in the background? Or the hair-raising Randy Marsh, behind the octogenarian’s prison camp fence, urging the boys to “AVENGE ME!!!?”

Additionally, several Red Dawn references can be heard on the radio in Grand Theft Auto: Vice City.

“John has a long mustache. The chair is against the wall.”

The diverse cast of characters gives the viewer plenty to relate to. Perhaps you see yourself in little brother Matt or political Darryl. Or maybe you can better relate to the young Danny, grizzled Colonel Andy, or one of the token girls. Most likely, everyone’s favorite character is either meek boy-turned-maniac Robert, or Swayze’s hair.

In the early days of World War III, guerillas – mostly children – placed the names of their lost upon this rock. They fought here alone and gave up their lives, so that this nation should not perish from the earth.

Thank you, Wolverines.

I’ve received many letters from readers asking me what my favorite cartoons were as a child. Since we here at Nerd City are an accommodating lot whose purpose is to serve you, our faithful readers, I am happy to oblige.

I have chosen to include both Saturday morning cartoons as well as the after-school variety for consideration. Anything I began to enjoy after the onset of puberty was considered ineligible. This keeps the more “mature” cartoons I have enjoyed since then such as Beavis & Butthead, The Simpsons and South Park from tainting the wholesomeness of the other entries. Finally, this list is in no particular order. They are simply all presented as equally beloved.

Fat Albert

Hey hey hey Fat Albert is OK. As these lovable urban Philadelphia teenagers learned about life, I learned right along with them. They taught me the danger of drugs and stealing as well as what happens when you get your tonsils taken out (“you’ll get ice cream, ice cream.”) Show creator Bill Cosby was still learning to flex his comedic muscles and though he was a bit restricted by the children’s programming format he still managed to be both humorous and relevant. Throw in The Brown Hornet cartoon-within- a-cartoon concept and you’ve got a pretty entertaining show.

Scooby Doo

Scoob and the gang went through several different show variations. However, regardless of the format, this show was dear to me and never failed to be entertaining, (with the obvious exception of the abortion that was Scrappy Doo.) My favorite gimmick the show pulled was the introduction of celebrity guest stars- The Globetrotters, Batman, Phyllis Diller, you name it. Each one infused a fresh flavor into their episode. The real jewels of the show were the villains. We all know a hero is only as good as his nemeses and Scooby Doo delivered this in bucketloads. The 49er Miner, the 10,000 Volt Ghost and the Willawa lead this motley troupe of outstanding scoundrels. Plus, trying to solve the mystery before the gang gave the youngsters of the world a “Murder She Wrote” of their own. Thanks, Scooby, for all these years of keeping us safe from the things going bump in the night.

Mickey Mouse

This is the only primetime entry on my list. When my family got cable and, with it, the Disney channel, my favorite show became Mousterpiece Theater hosted by George Plimpton. George lorded over the cartoons in his elegant study and regal red chair. He presented the classic adventures of Mickey and his friends while including interesting trivia about each episode.

GI Joe

My favorite toy was available in cartoon form? Awesome! I remember my action figures used to like to line up on the floor of my bedroom to watch the show with me. GI Joe and Cobra would all get along for the duration of the program. But as soon as I learned that “knowing was half the battle,” all hell would erupt between the two sides.

Disney’s Adventures of the Gummi Bears

My second Disney entry on the list doubles as a tasty treat. I prefer the white one myself. I believe this cartoon had the greatest theme song of all of our entries and is second to only Fraggle Rock as the greatest children’s show theme ever. I don’t remember much about these bears other than the fact that they lived in Gummi Glen, (a place I no doubt fantasized living in, as well), and they brewed a wonderful beverage called Gummiberry Juice. One time I tried to make my own Gummiberry Juice by melting gummi bears in the microwave. They melted, sure enough, but then hardened into sugary stone almost instantly as they cooled. I tried desperately to clean the plate before my mother could find out what I’d done and in my hasty scraping of the plate I gashed my hand open on the rigid, melted gummi bears. To this day I am confident I am the only person in the world to have cut themselves on a gummi bear.

Transformers

My other favorite toy had a cartoon, too? Who cares if I was a drone in their extensive marketing campaign? I went willingly. What a great idea Transformers were! With every purchase you got 2 toys in 1. You didn’t just get a robot, you got a car or a radio or a gun or a jet or whatever. It was like cheating. As excited as I was about the Transformers movie, I determined I was too old to go see it. I regretted this for quite some time and recently made up for it by buying the movie. Now, in my 30s, I can watch it as frequently as I want and I bear no shame about it.

Superfriends

Oh boy! What a genius idea for a cartoon! Wonder Woman, Superman, Aquaman and a multitude of other heroes were all assembled for my Saturday morning viewing pleasure. You throw in all those awesome super villains and you’ve got a can’t-fail program. The Wonder Twins could be a little tedious when you really just wanted to see Batman vs. Solomon Grundy and Mxyzptlk. It should be mentioned that the Legion of Doom is a totally cool name for an evil group. In fact, I think I just decided to change the name of my fantasy football team. The inclusion of a bunch of affirmative action heroes in the later episodes can even be forgiven because it was, after all, even more heroes to root for (albeit at a cost of less screen time for Batman.)

The Godzilla Power Hour

One time I was watching the wonderful Godzilla cartoon and I became very engrossed in the show. In fact, I was so absorbed in the program that I failed to notice my dog Skipper spilled my bowl of Fruity Pebbles and gobbled it all up off the carpet. Boy was my mom upset. Godzookie was a douche, by the way.

Spider Man and His Amazing Friends

The Marvel Universe had to throw their hat into the ring for the Saturday morning battle for my attention and they scored a hit with this show. In this case, Spidey’s “amazing friends” refer to Firestar and Iceman. The three of them formed quite a formidable team as they battled evil while still making time to make good grades in college. That’s a true testament to their herohood. I could hardly make it to class half the time and these three managed to save the world countless times and still get their homework done.

Hulk Hogan’s Rock N’ Wrestling

Can’t get enough Andre the Giant and Roddy Piper on Saturday Night’s Main Event? Me either. That’s what made this show so great. No longer were the actions of Tito Santana and the Iron Sheik confined to the wrestling ring. Now we could see how their adventures spilled out into their lives away from the arena.

Did any of your favorites make the list? Which ones did you love that I failed to mention?

What Makes a Horror Movie Awesome?

I’ll tell you what makes it awesome. All you need are four things- scary, bloody, funny and boobs. That’s it. That’s really all you need. It should be so easy. Unfortunately the majority of movies manage to miss at least one of the marks. If you can find some way to include a combination of these four things then you, my friend, have made yourself a complete horror film.

Let’s examine the four categories a little more closely:

Scary
The cornerstone of all horror movies is its scare factor. If a horror movie isn’t scary then it’s not really a horror movie, is it? It’s more of an actiony thriller movie or something. Scares are typically wrought through one of the methods. Let’s look at some Stephen King adaptations for examples. The first route to scary is artful direction resulting in suspense that keeps the viewer on edge. This can be found in Misery as James Caan is sneaking around and you just know Cathy Bates is going to catch him at any moment and make his ankle all floppy. The second is through plot circumstances that remind us that what we’re seeing could happen to us and tear our world apart. An example of this is Cujo. It’s not too far fetched to imagine being assaulted by a rabies-afflicted beast. The easiest route to scary is the jump out. If you’re especially ignorant and can’t think of an example of this just watch the ending of Carrie. The lesson here is that the methods aren’t important so long as the end result if terror.

Bloody
To me, this is the least essential of the quadrilateral. I believe a horror movie requires at least a scene or two that makes me squirm or cringe but if I had to go without at least one of the four this would be the one I omit. That said, when people are discussing movies around the watercooler or at the cafeteria lunchtable these are usually the scenes they are talking about. These are usually the first scenes to come to mind when you are reminded of a horror movie. Think about it, what scenes do you immediately think of when I mention movies like Cannibal Holocaust or Alien?

Funny
The funny is absolutely necessary. If you have an hour and a half of straight tension you would have a stroke and die. Even if you could, why would you want to? There is an art to building up the suspense, breaking it and then building it up again, just a little bigger than before. The great ones do this seamlessly, subtly moving us through laughter and fear. An example of this can be found in Bruce Campbell’s performances in the Evil Dead movies.

The comedy doesn’t even have to be intentional to be effective. Some movies are so campy or the characters so stupid that they provide us with laughs even when they don’t mean to. For instance, take a look at a movie like Troll 2. The plot, acting, and effects are so terrible that it is much more of a comedy film than horror.

Boobs
There’s no way to discuss this section without coming across as a pig, so I’m just going to avoid the pretense and speak frankly here. A flash of boob here or there in a movie inherently makes it better. I’m not looking for porno levels of skin or even a gratuitous amount of nudity. Just give us a little. Throw us a bone, so to speak. The movie should, at least once or twice give us an answer when we wonder to ourselves, “What’s she look like under there?”

This is where the new breed of horror movies got it all wrong. Scream came out and really revitalized the industry. We were so hungry for horror that we flocked to it. Unfortunately, when they skipped the nudity that had become a staple of horror in decades past and we supported it anyway, the message the studios got was that it was ok to leave the boob shots out. Scream’s success encouraged many other films to follow suit, such as the I Know What You Did Last Summer and Urban Legends movies. In those three franchises alone we were denied nudity of Heather Graham, Sarah Michelle Gellar (twice), Drew Berrymore, Rebecca Gayheart (twice), Tara Reid, and Jennifer Love Hewitt (twice.) Yep, good thing Rebecca Gayheart didn’t show her boobs and cause her career to fizzle out.

As you can see, many movies blend various combinations of these elements; but it is the very rare movie that finds a way to successfully include them all. The most recent movie to nail the mark was Eli Roth’s Cabin Fever. Here’s how:

The plot focuses on a group of friends in the woods, (the isolation of the rural wooded area provides an extremely fertile setting for horror), as they are exposed to a horrific virus. The story is scary because it doesn’t take a lot of imagination to envision a deadly virus sweeping across the country.

This virus is very destructive and leads to some ghastly wounds and decompositions. We’re given all the gore we could want, (provided our name isn’t Peter Jackson.)

James DeBello as Bert and Guiseppe Andrews as Deputy Winston provide ample laughs to ease the growing tension as the virus spreads.

Finally, we are given multiple views of the tasty body of Cerina Vincent. Sure, she’s shaving the flesh off of her legs in one of them but we really can’t be choosy. Somewhat disappointing is that Jordan Ladd refused to bare her goodies but then opted to do so in her very next movie. Oh well, c’est la vie. (I don’t even know what that means but it seemed fitting.)

Now, don’t be mistaken. There are many great horror movies that fail to meet one or more of the critical criteria. These films are especially disappointing because they could have reached pantheon level with just a little more work.

Of course, you could argue that the inclusion of whatever was missing would have detracted from the movie. Maybe you’re right, but good luck convincing me that Sleepaway Camp wouldn’t have been better with a little nudity, or The Shining wouldn’t have benefited from more comedy.

Some movies have to use sequels to hit all four categories. This, of course, is not a successful fulfillment of the quadrilateral. A good example of this is the A Nightmare on Elm Street series. The first movie hits scary, bloody and funny like Hiroshima, but we aren’t delivered a single nipple until later in the series.

Feel free to use my system to evaluate horror movies from now on or even develop your own system. Perhaps, if enough of us start using my system, we can really grow and form a grassroots coalition that will become large enough for the movie studios to take notice. They will begin to meet our demands for better horror and stop just releasing neutered remakes of the beloved classics.

Who will join me? Who will stand my side and declare that we will not go quietly into the night until our desire for fright and gore, balanced with a touch of comedy and completely unnecessary nudity has been satiated?

I was sitting here trying to think of what I might write about this week when my mind drifted off. I began to wonder how different my life might be if I owned various items from books and films. After daydreaming for half an hour about this I realized my topic was plainly evident. So now, without further ado, I present to you:

Science Fiction Items I Wish I Had (and the mischief I would commit with them)

Lightsaber- The first item that comes to mind when my thoughts turn this direction is also probably the least practical. Sure it would be immeasurably cool but what are its practical uses? It’s not enough to just sit around the house and play with it, that’s just asking for an amputated limb (or at least a bisected dog.) I suppose I could tour the country on the fair circuit and show it off between the Gravitron and the Worlds Fattest Man tent, but what kind of a life is that? No thanks.

Pee Wee’s Bicycle- This is another entry into the category of stuff that would be a blast to have but wouldn’t really make my life any different. I already have a bicycle and I don’t ride it all that often. I can’t imagine having a plastic lion’s head on the front would increase the likelihood of my pulling it out of the garage. I suppose it would be fun to use its jets to make massive jumps, but knowing me, it would just lead to a massive wreck. And no doubt while I was convalescing, Francis would come and steal it.

The Predator’s Cloaking Device- Now we’re talking. If I had that thing I would surely lead a life of crime. I could sneak into all sorts of places and, over time, become as world renowned as the notorious LeMarque. If I had the stones for it I could network myself into the world’s greatest assassin. But, who am I kidding? I wouldn’t do anything all that ambitious. I would just rip off 7-11s for cash and spend the rest of my time chilling out in girls’ locker rooms.

Wonka’s Chocolate Factory- Now this would be sweet. Not only would I have a cash cow that would allow me to just sit back and watch the dough roll in but I’d also have my own legion of Oompa Loompa slave labor to carry out whatever devious plans I could concoct. The abundance of available candy would ensure an early death, but if you’ve got to die, you could do a lot worse than death by chocolate.

The Delorean from Back to the Future- I was originally going to write about having one of those flying skateboards from the film until 1 realized 1) I would kill myself very quickly. I can’t even ride the kind with wheels. 2) Who wants a stupid flying board when you can have a time traveling car? (Not to mention how it’s almost impossible to look uncool getting out of a car with those suicide doors. They are like the exact opposite of the motorcycle sidecar.) I know the whole trilogy is essentially about all the problems that arise form jacking with the past and future but I’m sure I could manage to avoid all that and still become the most powerful man in the history of the world.

Honorable mention cars: Batmobile, Mach 5 and KITT

The computer from Weird Science- You have to admit, it would be most excellent to have a computer that you can use to create people. Besides the obvious sexual uses that were explored in the film there are a myriad of other applications. I would create a gardener/custodian so I would never have to do any work around the house again. I would make a series of workers to flood the workforce and enjoy the fruits of their labor all the way to the bank. Plus, I bet you could use it to make all kinds of things besides people. I could start my own zoo of totally unique animals. I could even make a real Bigfoot and Nessie. There is no ceiling to the possibilities here.

Teleportation device from The Fly- With its massive size and weight, this isn’t the easiest product to use. Throw in the inherent danger of a fly taking the trip with you and you’ve definitely got your hands full here. Of course, the convenience factor of a working teleportation device makes all the hassle manageable. The difficult choice would be determining where to place the receiver. Would I put it in my office to shave my commute time from its current 20 minutes down to a wispy 1 second? Perhaps I would choose to put the receiver on the beach or some exotic locale I would like to visit whenever whimsy struck me. Of course, placing it in an unsecured locale is an open invitation to disaster. Sure, easy, instant access to the Bahamas would be awesome but the fun is over the moment I make the trip back with a sand crab in the pod with me.

Death Star- Oh boy. Could it get any cooler than this? Methinks not. Sure it would be a logistical nightmare, not to mention the tiny issue of what to even do with it. Staffing would be especially tricky. Not everyone can be the laser operator. I would need someone to clean all the toilets. Plus, how would I pay salaries and ensure my employees remain loyal to me? I would need a competitive benefits package to keep my employees from trying to leave for work at a different space station after I go to the trouble of training them.

That said, none of those things matter. Not when we’re talking about having your own Death Star. I would just live up in space and lord over the plebians of planet Earth. I would shape the entire political landscape of the world. I would pass doctrine and policy and if anyone dared fail to comply I would make millions of voices suddenly cry out in terror and suddenly silence them.

This summer, movie studios and multiplexes are teaming up to give you a tremendous opportunity. Millions of dollars and countless man-hours have been invested in making films in an effort to provide you with an avenue of entertainment as well as an opportunity to rid yourself of your pesky money.

Welcome to the 2006 Nerd City Summer Movie Preview Blowout Extravaganza.

Let’s explore, chronologically, a large portion of the films for which you can expect to be bombarded with ads over the next few months as they infiltrate a theater near you.

May

An American Haunting -Donald Sutherland, Sissy Spacek

A horror movie

Not a remake or sequel?

good enough for me

Mission Impossible 3 -Tom Cruise, Phillip Seymour Hoffman, Ving Rhames

Never saw part 2

PSH>Cruise

Average mindless fun

Hoot -Luke Wilson, Nobody else I’ve ever heard of

Owls are creepy birds

Rather see hooters than hoot

Still a feel good film

Poseidon -Richard Dreyfuss, Kurt Russell

A boat sinking film

Perfect Storm or Titanic?

Somewhere in between

Just My Luck -Lindsay Lohan

Lindsay is lucky

Wish that I could get lucky

with Lindsay Lohan

Down in the Valley -Edward Norton, Evan Rachel Wood

Love scenes between leads

Norton 18 years older

Sounds super creepy

The Da Vinci Code -Tom Hanks, Audrey Tautou

Wish the Catholics would

boycott Tom Hanks’ gross hair cut

instead of this film

Over the Hedge -Bruce Willis and about a million other people

So tired of Dreamworks

Cartoon animals send me

right over the ledge

X-Men: The Last Stand -Patrick Stewart, Hugh Jackman, several hot ladies

If I were mutant

I would make Halle Berry

stop making movies

June

The Break-Up -Vince Vaughn, Jennifer Anniston

What a cute couple

Typical chick flick garbage

No thank you. I’ll pass

Harsh Times -Christian Bale, Eva Longoria

This movie looks dark

I mean really, really dark

Bale is perfect fit

Cars –Owen Wilson, Paul Newman and a bunch of other folks

The only thing worse

than cartoon animals is

cartoon cars and trucks

A Prairie Home Companion –Lily Tomlin, Meryl Streep, and many, many others

An outstanding cast

It will either be boring

or it will be great

The Omen –Liev Schreiber, Julia Stiles

This look good to you?

See original instead

and save your money

Nacho Libre –Jack Black

Jack Black in spandex

If that doesn’t sound funny

This is nacho film

The Fast and the Furious: Tokyo Drift –Lucas Black, Bow Wow

If people call you

a simple-minded dumbass

this film is for you

The Lake House –Sandra Bullock, Keanu Reeves

Time travel love tale

Wish I could go back in time

and unmake this film

Click –Adam Sandler, Kate Beckinsale, Christopher Walken

If you like Sandler

you will enjoy this movie

otherwise don’t go

Garfield’s A Tale of Two Kitties –Breckin Meyer, Jennifer Love Hewitt’s chest

Can a sequel based

on an unfunny comic

hope to make me laugh?

Superman Returns –Brandon Routh, Kevin Spacey, Kate Bosworth

Who is this Routh kid?

With Spacey as Lex Luthor

the film should be good

The Devil Wears Prada –Meryl Streep, Anne Hathaway

The real question is

Will Hathaway show her boobs

three films in a row?

Holy cow! I’m just now to the end of June and I’m way out of space. Looks like the rest of the summer preview is going to have to wait until a later issue. I know you were just dying to read a Haiku about Miami Vice, too.

“My friend, what are you doing?”

“You really want to know? I’m going to kill you, you bastard!”

How about that for opening dialogue? Sure, the title of this movie alone should be enough to cement it as a good idea, but with opening dialogue like that, any trepidation you may have should be laid to rest. Mafia vs Ninja? Are you kidding me? Has there ever been a pairing of two more fertile subjects to arouse the interest of guys across the planet? This is right up there with chocolate and peanut butter.

I’m telling you, this movie almost has it all: great dialogue, wonderfully rich characters, and the amazing ability to combine the wild action expected of a ninja movie with the labyrinthine plot of a gangster film. If the director could have thrown in some gratuitous nudity and some explosions or beast battles, we could be talking about the greatest movie ever made. As it is, however, it’s only the greatest kung fu movie ever.

I know. I know. It seems like heresy to say this is a better kung-fu movie than anything offered up by Chuck, Bruce, Sonny or Don. Don’t get me wrong those guys kicked lots of ass and made some excellent films. They just lack the beautiful magic found in Mafia vs Ninja.

The record should also indicate that the opening sequence of Ninja III: The Domination is head and shoulders better than any other kung-fu movie even dares to be. That digression is probably worth its own article, though, so I’ll try to get back on topic.

Mafia vs Ninja follows the adventures of Jack Do and Charlie Wu in Shanghai. They get involved in a war between Chinese and Japanese crime syndicates that can only be resolved with lots of punching and kicking.

The villains are out of sight. In addition to the traditional Japanese mob bosses, you’ve got a great assortment of ringers they throw into the battle. When these guys are introduced, you know that Jack is in some serious trouble.
First we meet Nemo. He is an Italian dude who is a knife specialist. He slaughters a bunch of apples to prove his skills. You will know Nemo by his resemblance to Rolling Stone Ron Wood and his propensity to draw royal flushes.

Fuji is the sumo looking guy with the samurai sword. You will recognize him by his Hitler ‘stache.

I never caught his name, but there is also an unnamed ninja in black who leads a whole team of assassin lackeys into battle. These lackeys seem to be ordinary fodder until their big battle when their true power is revealed. They possess the ability to turn into clumps of grass that quickly scoot across the battlefield and can only be stopped with the aid of a broom.

Lastly, Mr. Jones has no gimmick but what he lacks in that respect, he more than makes up for with sheer fighting ability. He is the token American black guy. You will know him by his being the only black dude in the film.

This movie has something for the ladies, too. Jack saves a girl’s life and they begin to fall in love. This plot thread is surely enough to keep the interest of any girls you can trick into watching with you. But don’t dismiss their relationship too quickly, fellas, there may be more to this girl than meets the eye. She may be hiding a surprising secret or two.

Another thing this movie has going for it is the stellar editing work by Poon Hung. And if you think I included that just to have a reason to put that name in this article then you’re crazy.

This is a movie with a social conscience, too. It takes a hard line stance on the dangers of drugs and uses copious amounts of violence to punish those who decide to deal them. It’s not difficult to read between the lines of the message when the equation is Jack + drug dealers = pain.

Racial issues are also tackled when Jack and Charlie try to enter a “whites only” club. The manager taunts them by explaining that neither Chinese nor dogs are allowed in his club and insinuates that they are both. The equation here is Jack + racist = pain.

If you are looking for good karate action and an unbelievable level of unintentional comedy you absolutely cannot go wrong with Mafia vs Ninja. Believe it!

I’ve got a confession to make.

I am in love with R2D2.

Alas, mine is a forbidden love, twice over. For one thing, he is a droid. And I am a man of fleshy stuff-skin and bones. If that wasn’t enough, R2 is also a dude, like myself. I realized it when C-3PO referred to his companion as “he” when talking to Luke-“Oh, he excels at that.” I also put two and two together when R2 whipped it out to access the mainframe of the Death Star to shut down all the garbage smashers on the detention level.

I wonder which is the greater no-no: love for “fellow man,” or love for droid. In the hi-tech times to come, I wonder if the taboo of a homosexual relationship will be a thing of the past and the real threat will be relations of flesh to metal.

One thing is for sure. R2 surely has it going on. There’s no situation for which he is not prepared. Did you see how he flew with rocket boosters in the apocryphal trilogy? Or how he was able to slice through the Ewok’s rope net at a moment’s notice? And where would Luke be without R2 in the back of the X-wing fighter? I’ll tell you where: lost in space with a damaged power coupling, that’s where. Being with that spunky little robot would inspire such a feeling of security to well up in my heart that I scarce could keep it in.

And there’s something about his bobbling way of walking and cute little egg-headed, milk-carton shape that reaches out to me and says, “Welcome home, friend.” I’m not ashamed to say that many is the time I have dreamed of running a damp cloth over his dusty metal frame, intoning “Well done, my faithful little servant.” And then there’s his mellifluous voice, which is like so many exotic birds singing in my brain.

Like I said- mine is a forbidden love, an impossibility. For not only are R2 and I separated as man and machine, but also as man and fictional character. He doesn’t even really exist. But if I could somehow escape this present reality, if I too were a figment of George Lucas’s imagination, there could be no restraining bolt strong enough to keep me from R2D2.

Today, I am Master Chief.I am a bullet blasting, grenade tossing, human saving, Covenant killing machine. I will massacre every stinking alien that threatens my species and I absolutely will not stop until every one of my enemies lies lifeless in a crumpled heap beneath my boots.

What is it?

What’s Halo? Oh, it’s only the greatest XBOX game ever. It’s only the game that didn’t just single-handedly keep Microsoft alive in the highly competitive home gaming market but also propelled the XBOX past the PS2 and Gamecube to the top of the mountain. It’s just the only game since Tetris to capture the imagination of avowed non-gamer (and nerd city contributor) Medulla Vesuvius. Needless to say, it was awarded “Game of the Year” by every relevant gaming entity upon release and they were right.

Set in a distant future where an overpopulated Earth has forced its residents to find homes on faraway planets, Halo chronicles the assault on humans by a tribe of aliens known as the Covenant. The Covenant is a collective of alien races that range from easily dispatched to crap your pants tough. Only one is man enough to stand against the Covenant and save the humans from annihilation. You are SPARTAN-II cyborg Master Chief and enough of all this talking; you’ve got some killing to do.

What sets it apart?

Halo is a first person shooter, which is a very saturated genre. I’m not sure what makes it so much better than every other FPS but I am certain that it is, indeed, superior. (You may now openly question my credentials for writing this game review.)

The plot is engaging, the weapons and vehicles are piquant and the hordes of enemies are just cool. Also, the Covenant employs a sophisticated AI that keeps the action from growing stale. Additionally, some battles (particularly those against the aptly named Flood) can be especially maddening as you must blast your way through seemingly endless waves of foes.

Halo’s crown jewel, however, is its multiplayer mode. Four players can fight with or against one another in a variety of games. Plus, you can join up to four XBOX consoles together to allow for a 16-person game. If you were captain of your school’s AV club you could set each team up with their own tv in a cinch. Oh, the joy is immeasurable when you sneak up behind your buddy and whack him on the head with your shotgun or tag him with a stick bomb (known in the manual as a plasma grenade) and just step back to watch him explode.

Now, with XBOX Live and a trusty internet connection, you can play against your friends (or strangers and sexual predators) from across the world while sitting by yourself in your mom’s basement.

Halo has been so popular on college campuses there is no doubt its’ existence lowered the male students GPA by at least 1 percentage point. Guys would stay up all night playing massive multiplayer games against one another while books and notes sat idly on the desk, knowing they just couldn’t compete with Halo’s mesmerizing battle action.

Will I ever want to play it again?

Does a bear poop in the woods? Haven’t you been paying attention at all? Even if you don’t want to repeat the entire storyline, the final level is worth playing over and over again and the multiplayer mode could keep a group satiated on a desert island for at least a year.

Final thoughts

In 2004 Bungie finally released the long awaited sequel, Halo 2…and I hated it. Now, maybe it’s all my fault. Perhaps the long wait between releases simply had me at such a high level of anticipation that no game could hope to achieve it. Perhaps my excitement placed unrealistic expectations on the game. Or maybe Halo was so good that Halo 2 just had no chance of competing.

Don’t get me wrong; some improvements were implemented. Halo 2 gave us new vehicles and maps. Not only were there new weapons available, but we now had the option of shooting two guns at once for ferocious effect. These things were all cool. In fact, I’d even concede that the multiplayer side of Halo 2 is superior to I.

The source of my disdain lies in the single player story mode. Everything starts off pretty standard until a few levels in, when suddenly the unthinkable happens. You stop playing as the master and begin playing as a member of the Covenant? WTF!?! Sure he’s a dissident Covenant Elite and battles against the other aliens but this is simply not acceptable.

Why do games do this? It’s like when the Syphon Filter (excellent game, by the way), sequel came out and on some of the levels you had to play as Lian Xing instead of Gabe Logan. What was that all about? Nobody wants that. It’s just the stupidest thing ever.

All I know in Halo is killing those Covenant bastards and now you want me to play as one? No way. Nuh uh. Whoever wrote that plot can have my copy of Halo 2 and stick it up their ass. They can keep it there, too, until I decide I want it back so I can play another multiplayer game.

I’ve been avoiding life at the movies since I was a very young boy. Many of my childhood memories revolve around time spent in the cinema. So, indulge me if you will, and take my hand as I stroll down memory lane, tracking my journey from boy to man using these cinematic milestones.

My absolute oldest memory of the movies comes from 1980. My parents took me to the Northpark Mall Theater, which was a local state of the art 4-screen multiplex. Our arrival was met with a gigantic line that stretched from the ticket window all the way down the hall. We were in for a long wait. Fortunately, our spot in the line was in front of a clothing store that had a live monkey in their display window. Don’t underestimate the power of a live monkey on a bored child or you’ll regret it the rest of your days.

I asked my mother what we were seeing and she told me Urban Cowboy. Ordinarily, news like this would send shudders through the very core of one’s soul. However, being 5 years old, I failed to recognize the significance of her statement. I would patiently wait in this line, completely oblivious to my impending doom at the hands of this Travolta stinker.

Eventually the line began to move and, astonishingly enough, we scored some seats near the back of the room. Only once we were safely seated within the theater did my mother reveal something to me that would only be rivaled by the shocking revelation within the movie about to start. We were not about to watch Urban Cowboy. We were about to watch The Empire Strikes Back.

My mom had been afraid that the line was so long we would not be able to get in. She worried that if she told me the truth about what we were really there to see and then failed to deliver that movie to me, my disappointment would be more than she could take.

I guess sometimes it’s ok to lie to kids.

In 1982, I went to see ET: The Extra Terrestrial. I don’t remember anything about the movie itself, only the events that transpired immediately afterward. Evidently I was a sensitive 7 year old and ET’s bittersweet journey through our world brought me to tears.

My grandpa, a burly ex-Navy man, immediately began to make fun of me. “ARE YOU CRYING BOY? WHAT’S WRONG WITH YOU?” he bellowed out for the rest of the theater to hear. In my shame, I tried to convince him I just had something in my eye, but looking back I’m pretty sure he didn’t believe me. I’ve been told he did the same thing to me when I cried at the Fox and the Hound.

His jibing upset me at the time, but now that I’m an adult I, too, enjoy taunting teary-eyed kids. Evidently we are doomed to repeat the crimes perpetrated against us in our youth.

1984 had a couple of memorable moments for me. For my birthday, my parents took me to see Indiana Jones and the Temple of Doom. We arrived at the theater to find it surrounded by police investigating a robbery. (side note- who robs a theater, anyway? Was some enterprising thief looking to score a small amount of cash, along with a case of Raisinettes and a personal copy of Gremlins?)

We waited outside for what seemed like hours before finally being allowed in. The agony of waiting was compounded by the fact that I had just received the GI Joe Headquarters playset as well as the figure “Roadblock” and I was understandably very anxious to go home and play. At least the movie ended up being pretty good.

Another time that year, I found myself alone at the movies. (Unable to agree on what film to see, my parents would often go see one and I would see another and we would meet up afterward.) I bought some nachos and a Cherry Coke from the snack bar and settled in to watch The Neverending Story. Somewhere in the course of the movie, a pointy piece of chip found its way into a soft spot in my gums most recently occupied by a molar. I sat alone in the dark for the duration of the movie, quietly tonguing the grand canyon sized hole that bastard chip left in my mouth.

One special day in 1985, my dad took the day off work and we went to see Rocky IV together. Being the middle of the afternoon, the theater was pretty empty. That didn’t stop those of us that were there from cheering together as Rocky showed us all that if I can change and you can change then we can all change. I believe the cold war ended that very day.

I knew my childhood was drawing to a close in 1986 when Transformers: The Movie was released. As a boy I loved the transformers and I so very badly wanted to see this movie. Unfortunately, I was in 6th grade now and my friends and I had begun to put our toys away. We now pursued more mature hobbies like collecting Garbage Pail Kids and playing games on the Commodore 64. I never did get to see Transformers: the Movie and regretted it for years. Now I own the DVD.

1986 may have hinted at the end of childhood but 1988 put all speculation to rest. My childish ways were now behind me, as chronicled by the following movie experiences.

The year started off innocently enough. For my birthday movie that year I got to choose between Funny Farm, starring Chevy Chase and Big, with Tom Hanks. As a portent of my impeccably good taste I chose Funny Farm because it clearly showed the most potential to be funny and really looked to be the higher quality film of the two. (To be fair, Chase’s work to that point included Caddyshack, Vacation and Fletch while Hanks’ movies were definitely more hit and miss.)

Later that year I went on my first date. I took this hot babe from my bowling team to Godfather’s Pizza and then to see Waxwork. Well, actually, her parents drove us to those places and picked us up, but you know what I mean. At that age I was not the ultrasmoove ladies man you see today. In fact, I was way more terrified of the girl on my left than the movie’s feeble attempts at scares.

Fortunately, my date did not suffer from the same confidence issues I was crumbling under and took matters into her own hands. She waited until an appropriately “scary” moment and then grabbed me with fright. I spent the rest of the movie holding her hand (although I was so busy worrying about my sweaty palm to even enjoy that.)

The final straw came the night my friend and I went to see Nightmare on Elm Street 4: The Dream Master. Neither our parents nor the theater wanted us to see Freddy so we bought tickets for U2’s Rattle and Hum and then snuck in to see Nightmare.

After our movie ended we still had a half an hour or so to wait until his parents would be there to pick us up. My buddy, clearly the brains of the outfit, got the bright idea to use the wire cutters he happened to have in his pocket to go clip hood ornaments off of cars. I didn’t really want any part of it but I sure didn’t want to be a chicken, either. The only compromise was for me to be the lookout. I stood about 20 feet away from him and made sure the coast was clear. In hindsight, this was a bad bit of casting for me as we were promptly arrested by an off-duty policeman and charged with theft.

I didn’t realize it at the time, but as those handcuffs locked around my wrists they severed any remaining pieces of childhood I had clung to. I wasn’t yet an adult, but I surely would never be a boy again.

I think I’ve really found a good one this time. Not only is she way beautiful, she’s crazy funny, too. Her name is Anna and she’s got a combination of looks and wit that’s so powerful she should have to register herself in every new state she visits.

She’s the kind of girl that makes the rest of the world cry “foul!” She’s just not fair.

Typically, the only time someone takes the time to develop a great personality is when they’re so ugly they have to do it to survive socially. The pretty folks have attention served to them on sterling platters so they never have to go through the anguish of learning to be enjoyable. They can exist with their minds being vapid wastes, serving only to remind them when to breathe and whatnot. The best sense of humor a pretty person can typically hope for is to regurgitate whatever movie or SNL sketch is popular at the time.

Conversely, the fatties and bagheads usually learn early on that if they are to be popular or successful they will need to rely on their wits. They sharpen their social skills every chance they get. They know that in order for someone to like them, they need to be likable.

Can’t you just picture some goofy looking kid getting shut down as he asks his crush to the big middle school after school dance? He slinks home with his tail between his legs, packs a bag and retreats to a cabin on an isolated Russian mountainside to train. Once there, he’s practicing parlor tricks, rehearsing anecdotes and studying David Letterman’s early years.

Think about it, are there any funny comedians who are actually good looking? Not any of the good ones. Normally, funny folks fall into two groups. You’ve got the hefties (guys like Farley, Gervaise and Belushi) and the odds (guys like Eugene Levy and Larry David.) If you’re really funny, the best that you can hope for, looks-wise, is to simply be average or normal looking.

Worst of all are the clods who are just lazy and bitter about their lot in life. These louts are neither fun to talk to nor look at. It’s sort of an endless cycle they find themselves trapped in. They are a foul looking lot, bitter and angry about no one liking them. Unfortunately, no one likes them because they are bitter and angry. They will forever be trapped in their dismal state unless they choose to make themselves more acceptable (or, as movies would have us believe, a beautiful young lass sweeps into their life, looking past the rough edges to rescue the gem hidden beneath the filth.)

I realize I may have digressed an eensy bit so I’ll try to work my way back on topic.

A girl like my Anna is so rare you could only hope to find one like her in the land of golden sun and promises: Hollywood. And this brings me back to last night’s date.

I got some KFC and then we settled in on the couch and watched “Scary Movie 2.” Anna was dazzling. Her comedic timing was excellent. Her gentle features and silky black hair mesmerized me. I couldn’t take my eyes off of her. Near the end of the film she suggested we take our friendship a little bit further and she blew my mind when she proposed we act out our innermost fantasies. Not too long after that she was stripped down to her underwear and a trip to at least 2nd base seemed all but inevitable. Unfortunately, nothing more happened and she was redressed before I even realized what was happening.

The worst part of our date was its brevity. Eighty-three minutes from start to finish simply was not enough time to spend with my new girlfriend. If I could change anything about our date I would have liked for it to last a little longer.

Well…that’s not entirely true. If I could have changed ANYTHING about the date I would have preferred to have Anna Faris in the same room with me instead of just on the screen. All in all, I still think it was a pretty successful date, though, and I really look forward to this weekend when we get together again. I’m going to make sure this one lasts a little longer so this time we’re going to grab some Chinese take-out and then watch a double header of “Lost in Translation” and “Waiting.”

Today, I am a gangsta.

I am a hardcore, bitch-slapping, car jacking, tough as steel street thug born with a deficiency of whatever pussy gene gives a man a conscience. I will reclaim the streets for my beloved Grove Street gang, striking down with furious anger every hood, ho or po-po that stands in my path.

What is it?
GTA: SA is the latest installment in the GTA franchise, a much-maligned series of games that has drawn the ire and horror of parents and politicians alike. As if kids wouldn’t already want to play it, this ringing authoritarian endorsement virtually guaranteed it would become a best seller, regardless of its M rating.

The story opens with your character, Carl “CJ” Johnson, returning to his boyhood home of Los Santos (Los Angeles) following the suspicious death of his mother. You are immediately accosted by the police (voiced by Mace Windu and the recently deceased Chris Penn) and dumped in a rival gang’s neighborhood.

Upon finally arriving home you find Grove Street and the gang you left behind are but a shadow of what you knew from your youth. To the people of Grove Street you are just the guy who ran away when things got tough years ago. Now, with your hood in shambles, it’s up to you to rise up and lead Grove Street back into a golden age. You must earn your fellow homies’ respect by being fearless and ruthless as you reclaim what was once yours (and everything else you happen to want.)

Your adventures pit you against rival gangs, la policía, the ROTC, government agents and even La Cosa Nostra. Needless to say, your hands are so full you hardly have the time to tend to your pimping responsibilities.

You have to learn to drive both a car and a boat, as well as fly planes and helicopters. Some missions require stealth while others require a more direct approach to the action. Sometimes you’ll opt to use a sniper rifle from long distances, while other times a knife is your best choice. San Andreas offers a very wide variety of tasks you must tackle to progress.

CJ is fairly customizable, too. You can choose his clothes, haircut and build. This is fun because you can look as tough or ridiculous as you want.

The game map is gigantic. GTA: SA takes you from the streets of Los Santos to the hills of San Fierro (San Francisco) and the glitz of Las Venturas (Las Vegas.) Each metropolis, surrounded by expansive country sides and deserts, features landmarks that will be easily recognizable to anyone who has visited the cities that inspired them.. Believe me, exploring all that San Andreas has to offer will give your thumbs quite a workout.

What sets it apart?
Grand Theft Auto has been such a successful franchise it has led to the birth of countless imitators (I’m talking to you, True Crime.) That said, the folks at Rockstar Games have always managed to stay ahead of the pack and once again offer the best game of this type on the market.

The radio feature is out of sight. Every time you get into (read: steal) a car, a random radio station plays. There are ten or so completely different stations, each one featuring a high quality mix of songs. You can hear anything from Eddie Rabbit and talk radio to 2 Pac and Toto. Let me tell you, doing a drive-by on a rival gang and then backing your car over their corpses a few times is infinitely enhanced when accompanied by the sounds of NWA.

Additionally, each station has an individual vibe and boasts a fine cadre of DJs, including characters voiced by Wil Wheaton, Andy Dick and Axl Rose.

This brings to mind the overall voice work, which is top of the line. There are too many stars to name, but pay attention for David Cross and Bijou Phillips. Rockstar doesn’t mind tossing a chunk of their budget in this direction and it shows.

Will I ever want to play it again after I beat it?
San Andreas takes a very long time to beat, and even then there is still so much left to explore and conquer. It is a good game to put away after you have exhausted yourself winning it and then pick back up a few weeks later to see what else you can find. There are girls to date, hos to pimp and a full casino in which to blow your money. Occasionally I’ve spent a few hours just playing the blackjack and video poker features within the game.

Several vehicles unlock additional challenges. Just steal a taxi, firetruck, or police car to see what I’m talking about.

Who knows, some day when you get home from work you may need to blow off some steam. Just load San Andreas into your XBOX, steal a sports car or motorcycle and see what kind of crazy jumps you can find. Or, if you prefer, take your sniper rifle up to the top of a nice building and then blast your worries away. If the army shows up to stop you just blast them with your bazooka and escape or reset the game and start sniping again.

Final thoughts
Pure and simple, this is a fun game. It’s not the decline of Western Civilization some would have you believe. In fact, if this were a movie instead of a video game it wouldn’t even be graphic enough to land on anyone’s radar. Just play it and have fun. Don’t worry about the moral decay of the nation, which is going to happen whether you play this game or not. You might as well have a little fun.

Look- chances are if you’re any kind of gamer, (outside of the meatheads that just buy sports games and movie adaptations), you’ve already taken a ride through San Andreas. If somehow you haven’t (and you’re old enough to have pubes) shut this stupid website down right now and go buy yourself a copy. If by chance you don’t like it, give this article to someone else who hasn’t played it and talk them into buying your copy.