Cowbania's Fantasy Winter Olympic League

The Winter Olympics kind of snuck up on me. I somehow had it in my head that they were going to be in December of 2018, hence I'm getting to the party late.

But I certainly wanted to revisit Cowbania, my fictional country that entered the Summer Olympics in 2016. Cowbania is kind of like Wakanda but with cows instead of panthers. Their primary superhero is Milkman, who always delivers exactly what you need before you're even awake. I was so proud of my team, they came home with quite an array of coasters and matchboxes from pubs all across town.

So I got together with the sponsors at Lon Lon Ranch and put together a whole new team of competitors that I think will put on an impressive show at the events, assuming they let us start late. I've looked through the events at the Winter Olympics, and I think every single one of them is a variation on sliding across ice. So unlike the Summer Olympics, I see no reason to restrict the entry of quadrupeds for events that primarily involve gravity. So let's hit the ice.

Alpine Skiing

Basically this is an umbrella term for 'skiing'. You go up a mountain, you come down it. Sometimes as a straight shot. Sometimes through flags. Cowbania has a limited budget, so I'm going to have to select one competitor who can keep upright through just about anything.

My competitor: Diddy Wishingwell. He (or she, I don't really care) is the first image that comes up on Wikipedia when you search for Weeble; so I've got as name, I've got a skillset, and as an added bonus Diddy is probably a cow. The uncultured swines out there might be asking what a Weeble is. It's an egg-shaped plastic toy from Hasbro with a weight at the bottom, creating a physical impossibility of falling over. In fact, that was the toy's first draft catchphrase: Weebles create the physical impossibility of falling over. It was a work in progress, but who better to slide to the finish line on their facsimile of feet than a creature invented for nothing but?

Biathlon

The combination of cross-country skiing and shooting, probably designed as such because there aren't closer places to set up a target range. If EPYX's Winter Games game on the Commodore 64 is any indication, this sport is about endurance and control of aiming when one is out of breath.

My competitor: Princess Zelda. Not Link as you might have imagined. Sure, he's fluent in just about every long ranged weapon, but his skills are limited to that of the player. Whenever Zelda shoots, she hits. When you also consider her Sheik disguise, she's running all over the world with no horse, and arriving wherever Link is going well before he does (enough to set up her dramatic entrances and exits). She's also attuned with wisdom, something in which I expect biathlons might require a stronger score. Preserving one's stamina is at least as much mental as it is physical.

Bobsleigh

Team of four. You push the vehicle, jump in, and synchronize the way you all lean to maximize speed. The skill of the pilot is apparently the biggest factor in victory or slapstick. So I need a team of four with a designated leader. TMNT are turtles, and I don't think their shells are particularly aerodynamic. Mystery Inc. would work, but they'd never leave out Scooby-Doo. And the hobbits wouldn't weigh enough to maintain the needed momentum.

My competitor(s): The Four Sydney Lotterbies. Man, I had to do some digging. Prior to Monty Python, John Cleese and Graham Chapman co-wrote a sketch comedy show called At Last the 1948 Show, with Marty Feldman and Tim Brooke-Taylor. This particular sketch involves all four main performers playing characters named Sydney Lotterby. When they meet for the first time, they discover they coincidentally all have the same names, voices, outfits, and wife apparently. This is the ideal bobsleigh team. They can function as a Borg collective but still have enough physical differences to be arranged in an ideal order for sleigh speed. Also, these four comedians were at the height of their physical prowess when the sketch was recorded. I think we've got a winner.

Cross-Country Skiing

Biathlon without the gun. That's it really.

My competitor: Scrat. You know, the squirrel-rat from the Ice Age movies that obsesses over the acorn? He's small, but he moves fast. He knows snow. And he never loses his endurance for more than a comedic beat.

Curling

I don't think I'm capable of making a snide comment about curling that hasn't been done a hundred times already. Curling is nicknamed "Chess on ice" which somehow doesn't send advertisers into fits of elation. It's like a kind of bowling where you're trying to get the ball to stop inches before it knocks down the pins. I'm sure it's hard, and I'm sure it's very satisfying when it's done properly. But I can't help but wonder if Curling teams are looked down on by the athletes who participate in life-or-death scenarios. Maybe not winning a medal in Curling is somehow better for you in the long run.

My competitor(s): Charlie Brown, Linus, Lucy, and probably Marcie on strategy. When the Peanuts characters pull it together, they usually get really close to their goals, and this is a sport where really close is the ideal. They also know how to skate, which is important. But the main thing is, even if you take home the gold, you did it in Curling. I can't imagine it's ever going to feel like a pure unbridled victory, and that's exactly when you need Charlie Brown on your team.

Figure Skating

Something about Figure Skating is just awesome. It just works in a way that not even Rhythmic Gymnastics can match. And we have three sub-categories that each have slightly different personalities.

Men's Figure Skating

My competitor: Tom (the cat, not the Myspace guy). Tom is arguably more accident prone than Wile E. Coyote, but he has an actual antagonist working against him. When he's left to his own devices, Tom is not only versatile and quick of study (he learned to play piano after a six note lesson) but he's a risk taker and can adapt when things go south. He could put on a fantastic performance as long as Jerry doesn't choose that moment to be an asshole.

Women's Figure Skating

My competitor: Tiny Kong. Based on the dance-like nature of the sport, figure skating requires a certain build, and for whatever reason Nintendo decided to give it to an ape; of course I'm talking about he post-DK 64 appearances where she was taller than her sister. Tiny isn't quite on Dixie Kong's level with the pony-tail twirl, but it's enough for a quadruple axle.

Couple's Figure Skating

My competitor(s): Sly Cooper and Carmelita Fox. Sly is a platform virtuoso, balancing on the points of giant blades. And Carmelita is the determinator cop who nearly captures him on a regular basis. They clearly care about each other, and there's a mutual trust whenever their backs are to the wall. But they're also a fiery combination, not above placing the other in danger when it's amusing. Their routine would be risky, bordering on violent, but they'd both make it to the end of the song with skates on the ground, posing in style. There may be an induced explosion or two in the process, but nothing would faze them.

Ice Hockey:

You know exactly what this sport requires of you: bulk, force, and a lack of attachment to your teeth. We need a team of five skaters and one goalie who can work together intuitively and have inhuman reflexes. This is an easy choice.

My competitor(s): The Expendables. First movie, before they took a flick with an overkill premise and over-overkilled it. I'd put Dolph Lundgren in as the goalie, since his character was the loose cannon of the film. Everybody else knows what they're doing without so much as a hand signal. I'm sure the final score would be dreadfully uneven.

Luge/Skeleton:

To me, the spectator sitting on the couch eating Reese's Peanut Butter Eggs, these two things are basically the same thing; sledding on your back and stomach respectively. It's like a waterslide without the water, so it's like a slide I guess. I don't know what the strategy is, aside from not dying. Holding on maybe?

My competitor: Michael Myers. Think about it, what does he excel at? Lying perfectly still until it's time to sit up dramatically. And miraculously moving from place to place. And a vice-like grip. He's everything you need for both of these events.

Ski Jumping:

Standing, sliding, launching, gliding, landing. That sums up the ski jump event, and gets us well on the way of adding a new verse to that "There's So Much To Do" Captain Kangaroo song. So we need somebody who can keep their feet planted and who knows a thing or two about floating to the ground safely from great heights.

My competitor: Genaa, from the 1984 classic Below the Root. Really any of the five playable characters will do, but Genaa's psychic power stats were crap, and nobody ever played her. She doesn't need them here. Like all Kindar and Erdlings, Genaa can fall from the top of a tree all the way to the ground and only take a few seconds of rubbing her head before she can get back up for action. Giant spiders, or snakes? She'll rub her head, but she won't move from the spot. And of course, she comes with the legendary shuba. A shuba is a backpack containing a gliding squirrel-like parachute allowing you to drift safely down from any height at a 45 degree angle. Even if for some reason it tears during her jump, she'll land in the snow with only a sore spot on her head. I miss the C64 era.

Snowboarding:

Skateboarding without wheels. I guess you're more likely to slide in all directions. There's probably a way to steer, since people do it. I wouldn't know. I trip over speed bumps.

My competitor: Sarge from Toy Story. The green army men all have that plastic thing locking their feet in place, and they do a pretty fine job of moving around. And while I don't remember ever seeing Sarge in action, he obviously got to where he is by knowing his stuff. And he's the only one in the bucket with a title.

Speed Skating:

It's not just about movement, but about a specific kind of movement. Feet have to touch the rink and push. Arms have to be in sync. There's probably not any skill that transfers over from elsewhere to really help you with speed skating. You either have to start from scratch in your training or have a natural rhythm about you that probably looks odd off the ice. So with that in mind, I've found an unexpected contender.


My competitor: Wadsworth, from Clue. Let's start with the obvious. In Ending A (or C depending on who you ask) Wadsworth has to be at the front door to shoot the singing telegram girl, and then in the master bedroom within seconds (Oh, sorry. Spoilers?). He's fast. Need More? During his summation he sends the guests from the study to the kitchen, himself running in the opposite direction to the secret passage, and he still gets there before they do. But now look at the way he runs. Sure it's comically prissy, but he's also doing the exact scurry and arm wave that you'd see in speed skating. He also does this for around twenty minutes without losing his breath. Meaning, no matter how Wadsworth places, we'll have the benefit of a wonderful speech in Tim Curry's inimitable voice afterwards.

Closing Ceremonies

I don't think that the Winter Olympics has as elaborate of opening and closing ceremonies as the Summer Olympics. It's a shame. This is where we really need a torch. But in the interest of defiance, I say we end everything on a good old fashioned snowball fight. Let's bring out all the whole team and just let them wail on each other until only Diddy Wishingwell is left standing. Cowbania dude!

Carmelita Fox

Charlie Brown
Diddy Wishingwell
The Expendables
Genaa
Linus
Lucy
Marcie
Michael Myers
Princess Zelda
Sarge
Scrat
Sly Cooper
Sydney Lotterby
Sydney Lotterby
Sydney Lotterby
Sydney Lotterby
Tiny Kong
Tom (Tom & Jerry)
Wadsworth

A Dozen Break-up Songs -The Bittersweet Candygram (with Guest Blogger Sarah DeArmond)

It's Valentine's Day! And with it comes a string of double disappointments from greeting cards claiming to be 'funny romantic', as well as an endless barrage of dirty looks towards people in happy relationships from people who are not. Come to think of it, does Valentine's Day actually bring more misery to the world than joy? My father was a wholesale florist, and I don't think a single day of his life went by where he wasn't consciously dreading the month of February.

For the ordinary person (something I occasionally strive to appear as) Valentine's Day is a chance to celebrate the color Red in grocery stores and fast food restaurants. It's like Christmas's aftermath without Green. In fact, I think Red and Green had a huge falling out in January. A shame really; they looked so happy together at the office Christmas party. But Red is really trying to move on, and I'm positive we'll see plenty of Green at the pub in March, so this seems the ideal time to talk about the time honored tradition of the break-up song.

It's a strange phenomenon, the way the heartbroken seek out the opportunity to get lost in a melody and kicked in the gut by it. My best explanation is that it's a release of tension, kind of like how scratching is a mild form of self-inflicted pain but it alleviates the itch that we find unbearable. Sometimes you just need to cry. Perhaps even more so when you're feeling alone on a day that bombards you with imagery of lovebirds and anonymously produced messages of "Be mine" from the candy company.

So as a public service, let's honor some personal favorite break-up songs for anyone out there looking for the opportunity to wallow in misery. And just to rub it in, I'm going to be joined by my beloved wife, with whom I just celebrated nine years of marriage. If you like her writing then you'll definitely want to check out her blog at sarahandseansworld.com where she regularly discusses social issues and interviews an eclectic group of personalities that you're likely to find in various media.

As the two of us grew up in different musical circles I expect we'll be able to cover a fairly broad range of songs. I'm going to turn the track list over to her first and then we'll take turns. Welcome, love!


1. Stranger -Hilary Duff:  Dignity (2007)

Although Hilary's 3rd album went gold, it sadly failed to find an audience. Maybe because it was marketed as a dance album, and that's something you play at clubs, not the radio. Still, I feel like giving it the "dance" category was a bit unfair, because it had several songs that fit perfectly into the pop genre, including this forgotten gem.

The song tells the story about a woman that feels stuck in a relationship with a man living a double life. When the two of them are together out in public, the boyfriend treats her well and showers her with love and affection. But when they're alone, it's a complete 180. The lyrics also talks about how no one believes the girlfriend when she tries to speak up that her boyfriend is not the person he says he is. In the end, she accepts that it's far better to be alone and hated by their friends than to stay with a man that makes her miserable.

I can't tell you how painful it is to see loved ones go through this very thing and Hilary portrays those feelings beautifully.

Sean's thoughts: I would probably never have noticed Hilary Duff's music if my wife hadn't been such a fan, but she has some truly wonderful songs that deserve attention. "Stranger" is one of her more mature outings, being emotionally poignant while devoid of dramatization. She makes you feel what she wants you to feel. A+


2. Denial, Revisited -The Offspring: Conspiracy of One (1998)

The Offspring are a rock/punk/alternative band that are easy to underestimate if you've only had a passing familiarity with them. "Denial, Revisited" is one of their songs that was carefully constructed for full potency. Lead singer Dexter Holland opens with what is assumed to be the scenario's routine "So there we go, having the same old fight again" before two verses and choruses of how bad things have gotten between him and the girlfriend but resolving to never let go; you know, like the romance movies tell you to do. You can actually visualize him holding up the jam box in a grand gesture that he's positive will work. "But she stands softly, tears on her face..."; one subtle change of guitar chords and we experience his gut-punch at the same time he does. This is goodbye at its most realistic.

Sarah's thoughts: Oh man, this takes me back to my breakup (right before Sean). I knew he and I needed to end things, but I was scared and tried to keep him around, in spite of how damaging the relationship was for the both of us. In this song, when Dexter is realizing that it really is the end and how difficult it is coming to terms with it, is 100% relatable. Whether or not they're for the best, breakups are hard, period.


3. I'll Never Get Over You Getting Over Me -Exposé: Exposé (1992)

Ah, here's a song written by one of my husband's favorites, Diane Warren (more to come)! The song is a sweet message to an ex that even though she may not want the relationship back, the feelings of what was once there will never fully go away.

Sean's thoughts: In the midst of a breakup, the absolute worst thing you can experience is hope. In the movies it always works out, but in real life it only drags out the inevitable. You need some friends for support. It helps even more if they can sing backup harmony for you.


4. Careless Whisper -Seether: Finding Beauty in Negative Spaces (2007)

Seether allegedly rerecorded this George Michael song as a joke; but regardless of intention in resulted in one of the most powerful covers I've ever heard. Similar to "Denial, Revisited", the POV character is fully aware of his own blame in the forthcoming breakup. This is a song about guilt and consequences, and lead singer Shaun Morgan screams out both in their most intense. I have to say the original song is tepid, and the protagonist is going to take a weekend to get back on his feet. But in the Seether version he's going to be forever changed after cheating on his lover.

Sarah's thoughts: When Sean told me this song was originally supposed to be a joke, I was shocked! It's safe to say Seether backfired in the best way possible and ended up making a powerful song that really gives sends chills down your spine.


5. Karma -Alicia Keys: The Diary of Alicia Keys (2003) Sometimes it feels good to have a song with the pure message of "In your face!" Alicia sings about being dumped by a man and once he comes crawling back, she's not interested. Deep down, many of us have secretly wanted that moment to tell an ex off, and this song is the perfect way to release those feelings in a productive way.

Sean's thoughts: This could have been the theme song to a James Bond movie if we were to focus on the spy's love life without the car chases. Yeah, Bond is a hero-type, but he's also a womanizer. It would be nice to see one of his flings get fed up with his crap before the credits roll.


6. Solitaire -Laura Branigan: Branigan 2 (1983)

Diane Warren is an interesting figure in songwriting history. Despite the fact that she personally has no interest in romance or commitment, she's produced a whole catalog of love ballads for just about every singer you can name. "Solitaire" was the hit that put her on the map, and it sums up every forlorn lover's power fantasy. I say fantasy because nobody is this passionate about moving on from an ex, if you're over them you just quietly get on with your life. But we all dream about the fictional day where we get to make someone feel as lousy as they've made us feel; playing solitaire, and waiting.

Sarah's thoughts: This song vaguely reminds me a of the late, great Whitney Houston song, "I Learned from the Best." (No shade, that's a compliment to both women!) Just like Whitney, Laura's vocals are powerful and she can hold those notes just like may of the iconic singers.

Sean makes a good point, no one moves on from an ex with such gusto, but how we love to think that we're out living the best life possible while they're either at home, alone, playing solitaire or crying into a pint of ice cream!


7. One More Minute -Weird Al, Dare to Be Stupid (1985)

Many of us have been dumped. Besides it being a soul crushing experience, it's a huge blow to the ego. Sometimes the best way to deal with an awful situation, is to laugh about it. In fact, some people say that laughter is the best revenge, and the iconic Weird Al proves that with one of his most underrated songs to date!

Sean's thoughts: Well, how did this one slip past me? Very few of Al's songs are autobiographical, but this one came from a place of real pain, and thus an anthem was born. Who can't relate to the very specific feeling of "I'd rather rip out my intestines with a fork than watch you going out with other men"?


8. Not a Dry Eye in the House -Meat Loaf: Welcome to the Neighborhood (1995)

And we're back with Diane Warren. As much as I love Warren's work, this song lacks a certain finesse. "There's not a dry eye in the house after love's curtain comes down". Um...love's curtain? Do you think we wouldn't get the metaphor if you just said 'the curtain'? There's also the temple rubbing moment of "You don't love me no more!" which makes Meat Loaf come across as whiny; Mr. Bat out of Hell deserves better. But I include this song because it was so close to being awesome. Imagine if you will a few lyrical tweaks and Loafy conveying emotions counter to what the song suggests. Contempt. Bitterness. A few eye rolls. Instead of embracing the song's melodrama, think of him spitting venom at the apparition of his former lover. And then...right at the end of the song on the last "breaking" all his pride and satisfaction vanishes, and he realizes for the first time that he really is in as much pain as he's been claiming. Now tell me if that isn't better.

Sarah's thoughts: I met Meatloaf when I was 12. I thought he was a great guy, but never listened to his music until I started dating Sean. I then saw what I had been missing out on for so many years. Like Sean said, the lyrics can get cheesy, but Meatloaf has an operatic/rock style voice that's very unique in the music industry. I'm very thankful that Sean introduced me to something special I didn't know I was missing out on for so long.


9. Wait for You -Elliott Yamin: Elliott Yamin (2007)

Elliot came in 3rd on the 5th season of American Idol, despite being one of their best singers that year. While he's never been able to achieve the level of success he deserves, the song "Wait for You" did receive commercial success.

"Wait for You" tells the story of a person who isn't on the same page as their partner when they decide to end things. Instead of the song's subject begging for them to stay or lashing out, they decide to let them do what their now-ex thinks is best. While they may be hurting, they make their feelings known that they still love their ex and in the meantime, all they can do is hope for the best.

Sean's thoughts: I guess it's a matter of perspective whether or not this song is sweetly romantic or a straight up tragedy. Odds are in favor of the latter, but I think we all can relate to false hope. Perhaps this is a cautionary template; if you feel yourself connecting with a song like this, you're in dangerous territory. There is only going to be pain until you're able to shut that door entirely.


10. Try (Just a Little Bit Harder) -Roxette: Room Service (2001)

Roxette could put out a whole album just by compiling their break-up songs, but I've decided to shine a light on the lesser known "Try". Marie Fredriksson sings this one like she is at the absolute darkest level of despair. But this isn't an "I Want You Back" or a "Rescue Me" sort of song, or even something as sure-footed as "I Will Survive". This is her doing her absolute damnedest just to pep-talk herself into standing up from what was probably the mother of emotional collapses. Sometimes the smallest steps are the biggest obstacles. And if the music is any indicator, she just barely makes it to her feet at the end.

Sarah's thoughts: It's impossible to breakup with someone you were in a relationship with and just snap out of it instantly. You need time to grieve and then, one step at time, keep reminding yourself that life will go on and you'll eventually make it to the other side.


11. You Oughta Know -Alanis Morissette: Jagged Little Pill (1995)

While the lyrics are a little.....strong, Alanis unleashing her anger at an ex that hurt her deeply feels like the ultimate revenge anthem. Rather than coming across as the victim, Alanis makes it clear that she's angry and hurt. To make the song even better, you can hear a particular pain in her voice that shows this goes further than just a revenge song; she went through an experience in which she was absolutely wounded. This song shows you that while she was writing it, she put her heart on her sleeve.

Sean's thoughts: I never 'got' Alanis Morissette. I thought she was competent as a singer/songwriter, but to this day I don't understand why people fawned over her. It may be a case of right place/right time, as this particular song seems to encapsulate the pessimistic side of the mid-nineties. But for whatever reason "You Oughta Know" landed squarely on the pulse of the zeitgeist, and it's a recognizable letter in our break-up song's alphabet.


12. Dance Floor Anthem (I Don't Want to Be in Love) -Good Charlotte: Good Morning Revival (2007)

I can't think of a better way out of the downward spiral. Being alone is better than being with the wrong person, no matter how frightening the prospect of isolation may be. A song like this isn't going to change you, or make the pain go away, but it can remind you of who you are and help you tap into your strength. Some times when you're suffering, the only thing you can do is dance. Dance like your life depends on it. Dance in heartache, in anger, and in tears. And just maybe a droplet of joy will trickle in.

Sarah thoughts: Once again, hubs hits it right on the nose when it comes to breaking down songs in this blog! There was a short period after I broke up with my boyfriend of a little over three years. Every so often, he'd tell me, "You'll never find a guy that loves you more than me." I would always brush off his words, but I knew that if what his version of love was what love was supposed to be, then it was better for me to be single.

Although I'm married to the love of my life and couldn't be happier, it's good to take a moment to yourself and realize that even if you don't end up with someone, you'll be OK. In fact, that's sometimes the best route for some. I can assure you that it's better to be alone and happy than with someone for life and either be miserable or just....meh! That's the feeling I get out of this song, and that's a wonderful thing!

The Wax Buzzard Files: Chapter Five -But Who's Counting

This is Chapter Five. If you're looking for an access point other than Chapter Five then I would happily direct your attention elsewhere. But if Chapter Five is all that matters to you, then you may as well stay where you are because this is where Chapter Five is. Thank you.


I dropped Miss Nomer off at her house. I think it was her house. It was a house. She got out of the car. Admittedly I had to force her out, and she chased me down the road for three and a half miles, but I'm pretty sure it was her house.

The irritant from the restaurant made himself at home in the back seat, demanding at regular intervals to know if we were there yet. His name was Joe, although I didn't know it at the time. Or now. But he looked like a Joe. Or a Marcie. Maybe a Marcie Joe if I had to guess, which fortunately I didn't. I only had to drive and ignore him, even as he started kicking the back of my seat.

There's an old saying that I can never remember. I only bring it up because it reminds me of something else that I try really hard to forget. Which reminds me, never try really hard to forget something; it just makes you think about it more. And speaking of more, you know the kind of people who always want more? We need less of them. And when I say less I mean fewer in number, and not that I expect them to lose a few pounds. Although the easiest way to lose a few pounds is to get mugged in London. I've never been to London, but there was this real nutcase in town who kept mugging cameras. We had plenty of evidence against him, but it still took a while to put him away because he kept squirming.

Well I'd obviously taken a wrong turn somewhere, and I had to backtrack a few streets to figure it out. Let's see; -cameras -mugging -London -pounds -fewer -more -forgetting -That was it. I was forgetting something. The price tag on the diamond; if I find that, I close the case. Everybody goes home happy, assuming they like being at home.

Locating missing evidence is never about where to start, but where to end. It's always in the last place you look. The trick is, figure out where you're going to look last, and start there. So I guess it is about where to start. Now I was confused.

I pulled into a seedy service station called "Nothing to See Here" and hopped out of the car, which rolled a few more yards before coming to a rest. "Wait here," I told the irritant, which prompted him to defiantly reach for the door handle. "Simon says, wait here!" That works every time. Not even the underbelly of society would challenge that name drop, it's more powerful than the double dog dare.

Everything about "Nothing to See Here" said 'go away' except for the sign on the door that said 'nah just kidding, come on in'. I took it as an invitation and put it in my pocket. The door had clear glass panes, painted over with translucent nail polish. Someone had tried to obscure the meeting on the other side of the door, but I could see right through it.

There they were. About a dozen of them. I could tell by their suits and briefcases and the PowerPoint presentation that they meant business. The odds weren't good; and with an even number in there, my arrival would make me the odd man. Fortunately I know a thing or two about stuff.

I threw the door open and ran inside the station like somebody who really wanted to be in there. "Hey!" I yelled, pointing in the direction from whence I came. "There's a guy in that car!" In unison, three of them dove behind the counter. Two leapt through the window. One jumped up and ran around the aisles screaming and waving his arms a lot. One just started crying where he was, and had to be escorted to the back room by four of his buddies to work through some emotional residue. Unless my math is wrong, that left me alone with just the ringleader, evening the odds. I pulled out the chair that was across the table from him. He glared at me as I sat down, as well as after.

"Detective Nathaniel Guffey," I said, "That's my name, in case you're wondering. I'd like to ask you a few questions." I placed Miss Nomer's card on the table and slid it in his direction, tossing it the rest of the way because it was a big table. "Tell me what you know about the owner of that card."

"That wasn't a question," he pointed out observantly.

"What can you tell me about the card's owner?"

"Jewel thief," he said. "That's her SUV outside."

So that's why she was chasing me earlier. "Can you tell me something I don't know?"

"Do you know about the pawn shop on East and Seventh?"

"No I don't."

"Well, there is one."

I hadn't known that. I did know about the pawn shop on Northeast and Seventh. The place had gone south after a deal with Mr. Happy had left her slightly displeased. I thanked the station's owner for the tip. "You've been very helpful for some reason."

"Detective Guffey, I'd run if I were you."

"And why is that?"

"You have the build of a runner."

I took his compliment seriously and sprinted out the back door. The irritant followed me in the SUV, getting as far as the front seat before having to turn the engine on.

By the time I got to the pawn shop it was a little bit later. The place was closed for renovations, but they let me in when they figured out I wasn't a renovation; some people never change. I went up to the counter and asked to be shown the finest price tag available. When it didn't answer, I turned my attention to the clerk behind the counter, and posed the same request. Without so much as a word, he explained in great detail how he had nothing to say to me on that subject. I politely asked him to shut-up, and reminded him for the first time that I wasn't somebody who took 'no' for granted.

He reached into his shirt's front pocket and pulled out a revolver. He tried pointing it at me but it kept spinning, so instead he threw it at my head. Everything went black, due to a power surge. By the time the lights came back on I was face down on the floor, unconscious, and completely unaware of the terrible things my captor was saying about my mother. I had a dream that I vowed right then and there that justice would be served, whether I had a hand in it or not.

Chasing the Rabbit: Chapter Sixteen -Through the Looking Glass

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Alice and Meg had spent the better part of an hour trying the many doors throughout the mansions hallways. Several of them proved to be mere decorations that led nowhere or wouldn't even open. A few revealed storage closets with nothing to store. Once in a while they would find a dining area or study containing furniture that seemed to be bolted to the floor and very little they could interact with. Alice had wondered aloud if the place had meant to be a museum, to which Meg had no response.

They hadn't found anything to eat, and after a while they'd forgotten it was the reason they'd gone exploring. A confusion about the mansion's layout had become the more pressing concern, as they found themselves hopelessly lost in the maze of corridors.

Meg reached for the next handle and felt the door give a little. "That one is a façade," Alice told her but Meg ignored the suggestions, throwing all of her weight into it. The portal flung open; a small cloud of dust causing Meg to cough.

"Goodness, Miss Meg! Are you all right?"

"I've breathed worse," said Meg. "Although not by much, considering what dust is."

"My apologies. I was so sure I tried that door already."

"I think we're both pretty turned around." The room had a double bed with drapes, a small dresser with a missing mirror, and a stack of large blocks with letters carved and painted on them. An open window revealed the night sky. "Bedroom," observed Meg.

"Nursery by the looks of it," said Alice. "Who would care for children in a place like this?"

"Doll, there are people who don't care for children in any place."

Meg lingered in the hallway, doing her best to beat the dust out of her hair while Alice scurried inside the room. A quick press on the cushions confirmed that the bed was real. The blocks were permanently fixed in place but the dresser drawers properly slid in and out. This was the only room they'd been in for some time that seemed to serve a function other than appearance.

Alice produced an untouched hairbrush from a top drawer. "Will this help, Miss Meg?"

"Sure, thanks." Meg meandered over to Alice's location, glancing around the nursery, her mind replaying a series of unpleasant things that could conceivably drop down on them from the ceiling. She reached for the brush, but Alice wasn't ready to relinquish it.

"Forgive my impertinence," she explained, "but may I?"

"You want to brush my hair?"

"If it's not a bother. Your hair is so lovely."

Meg shrugged and sat down at the dresser, removing the ribbon that held it in place. "Happy to pawn off the ordeal."

"Thank you. I often brush my sister's hair, and I'm very fond of it."

"The two of you pretty close?"

"Quite." Alice smiled, running the bristles through several feet of auburn. "How long did it take you to grow?"

Meg sighed. "A lifetime or two. Lots and lots of mornings of waking up looking like a gorgon." Alice giggled at the comment, and Meg couldn't help but feel pleased. "You just have the one sister?"

"Oh Heavens no. I have nine brothers and sisters altogether." Alice brushed a few more strokes before becoming distracted by her thoughts. "How odd that I can't remember any of their names."

"It's okay Lilies, I think we're both a few petals shy of a bouquet. I don't even remember if I have siblings. Or children for that matter."

"I certainly hope not. I imagine any child of yours would miss you terribly."

"Wow," said Meg. "I wasn't expecting you to say anything that sweet."

For a few minutes neither of them spoke, with only the sounds of Alice's brushstrokes and the night sky through the open window filling the room.

"You know, I don't think there's anything for us here in the mansion," said Meg. "We should probably leave in the morning. Through this window so we don't get lost in the halls again."

"Agreed." Alice set the brush down on the dresser. "Would you like me to retie the ribbon for you?"

"What I really want is a mirror."

Alice fished around in the drawers. "I imagine the former owner of this dresser may have shared the sentiment." As her logic dictated, she found a well-crafted hand mirror tucked away in the bottommost drawer.

"Lucky guess," said Meg. She took the mirror and stared dumbfounded at her reflection. "You know, I barely recognize myself? I can't even remember the last time I let my hair down."

"It's a pity we're not dreaming, because that makes for such a wonderful metaphor."

Alice's smile was contagious and Meg couldn't help but admire the young girl's unending cleverness. But Meg's sense of delight almost immediately fell away to the harsh truth of what she'd been afraid to admit she believed.

"Alice, there's something we haven't talked about."

Meg's solemnity made Alice tremble a little inside, but she was determined to keep it to herself. "I'm listening."

"I think I know why we keep forgetting things the way we do." Meg searched for an easy way to break the news, but there wasn't one. "We might be dead."

Alice stood quietly. And thought.

And thought.

"That's a perfectly valid possibility," she said at last.

Meg blinked. "Really? That's your reaction? I thought you'd be a bit more broken up about it."

"Perhaps I will be. But right now I'm curious as to why you think so."

"Experience. I know death's superintendent. He's a nasty piece of work. And I've watched many people die. A lot of them try to covet what they know, and it always slips away from them and it's always awful. The worst ones are the ones who don't think they're dead because they'd rather suffer than be wrong."

"So if this is the case, how do we cooperate?"

"I honestly have no idea."

Alice nodded, and without another word put her arms around Meg's shoulders and gently squeezed her.

"Are you crying," asked Meg.

"No. I'm only saying thank you. For being such a good friend. Just in case I don't get another chance."

Meg hugged her back. "Then thank you as well."

They held onto each other for a moment. Then Alice took a step back and resumed her most cherished demeanor where she seemed to be quoting a lecture. "Whenever faced with a problem too big to solve, always break it down into smaller portions in order to invoke progress and alleviate frustration."

Meg smirked. "Did that saying come with lottery numbers on the back?"

"It came with good advice," said Alice, moving back around to the opposite side of Meg's reflection in the hand mirror. "Would you like your hair tied the way it was?"

Meg examined her reflection, weighing a few options before giving Alice an over the shoulder wink. "I don't know. Show me something I haven't seen before."

It took Meg a moment to realize that Alice's expression had changed to one of shock, the young girl involuntarily taking a step backwards. "What's wrong?" she asked, but Alice couldn't speak.

Meg turned her attention to the open window, assuming whatever had spooked Alice would be coming from the outside. In doing so she almost missed spotting the image that had appeared in the hand mirror; a full row of teeth from a dark figure that appeared to be lunging for her. On reflex she dropped the mirror on the dresser and bolted from the chair grabbing Alice and pulling her to the side, against the wall.

Meg surveyed everything from the window to the hall until she was convinced the vision had not been reflected from a threat in the room with them. "You okay Lilies?"

Alice hadn't realized she'd been holding her breath. "That gave me quite a fright."

Meg placed her hand over her own heart. "I think it gave me something else."

The mirror lay face down on the dresser, and Meg tentatively reached for the handle and turned it around to where she could see the glass. It was dark, but a few elements were discernible; rocks, sand, and a couple of spider-like plants that waved back and forth.

"Oh my," said Alice. "If I'm not mistaken, that appears to be the ocean floor. Do you think this mirror is magical?"

Meg flipped it around to the back to examine the workmanship. "It's definitely something."

"Perhaps it reacted to your words. Why don't we have it show us something else?"

"Yeah, hang on. Sometimes these things have limited uses." The carvings were elaborate, but they weren't telling her anything. "Okay, let me think. Show me..." She was about to ask to see Hades but changed her mind. One, she honestly didn't want to see him. Two, she was convinced by now that this wasn't his doing. And three, the huge shadow that engulfed the image of the ocean floor (accompanied by a single white eye) proved to be distracting up until the point that the image dissolved back to Meg's irritated expression. "No, no, no! You stupid piece of-"

"It's all right, Miss Meg. The looking glass may only be able to respond to what you say out loud, and your last words were 'show me'. It's reasonable to conclude it thought you wanted to see yourself again."

"Good thinking," Meg sighed. "Show us that same place again."

As quickly as it had gone, the image was back; momentarily blocked out by the massive tail of the sea creature. "Curious," said Alice. "May I try it?"

Meg happily relinquished the item. "All yours."

"Good evening looking glass. Would you be so kind as to show us the moment Miss Meg and I first met in the meadow?"

The image flickered to a silvery hue, pulsating as if it was trying to do something beyond its capabilities. For a few seconds nothing happened. And then the reflection of Alice in the nursery resumed.

"Maybe it doesn't respond as well to politeness," Meg offered.

"On the contrary. The looking glass seems inclined to appease any request it is given, but it may have limitations. I believe it can only show us things in the present, not memories."

"Can it show us the way out of here?"

"Let's see. Looking glass, can you show us the way out?"

The image twisted around to show them the window that was a few feet away from them.

"Cute," muttered Meg. "You can't tell me that thing isn't being facetious."

Alice's eyebrows perked up. "Did you know that the word 'facetious' is the shortest word to contain all five vowels in order?"

"Um...no, I did not know that but I do now- can I have the mirror back?"

Alice stifled a laugh as she gave up the magical device.

"How do we get out of this whole...place? This world?" Meg asked the mirror. Her reflection did nothing but scowl back at her. Meg rolled her eyes. "Show us the way out of this world." The image struggled with the demand but managed to only accomplish blinking silver again. "I kind of figured you wouldn't be that cooperative."

"Perhaps there's a means to ascertain the reason we're both in this predicament," Alice suggested.

Meg asked the mirror to show them why they were there, which was only met with a blank slate. Where they should go next turned up nothing as well. "Either it's drying up or it has an aversion to being helpful," Meg sneered. "Back to basics then. Show us who's in charge."

The mirror sputtered and went black before revealing a new location; a large room with a row of shelves and box-like objects emitting a kind of light source with which neither Meg nor Alice was familiar. And a shape shifted slowly in front of one of the boxes. The placement of the light made it impossible to make out features other than the outline, but the individual seemed lean of build with a pair of appendages protruding from his or her head.

"Is that Miss Maleficent?" asked Alice?

Meg examined the protrusions as best she could. "I don't think so. She had horns, or a headdress with horns. These look like they have some mobility."

"Like a rabbit?" Alice said proudly.

Meg grumbled. "Yes, possibly like a rabbit. I'll believe anything at this point." She handed the mirror back to Alice without waiting to be asked.

"You'll see," Alice promised. "Looking glass? Would you please show me the face of the rabbit?"

In much the same way the image had rotated when it showed them the open window earlier, the room in the mirror spun around to face the creature directly. But a split second before it could show any facial details, the rabbit ducked down, and dove out of the way when the surveillance tried to refocus. From there, the mirror began chasing the rabbit around the room, with the animal managing to stay just barely out of sight.

"Someone doesn't want to be spotted," said Meg.

"Which means he's also aware that we're looking."

Whatever entertainment they were to derive from the pursuit was cut short by a sharp bang so loud that Alice almost dropped the mirror. "What was that?"

"It came from above!" No confirmation was necessary as the ceiling was clearly lowering. "Someone REALLY doesn't want to be spotted."

Meg and Alice leaned out the window, but between the night sky and the mist surrounding the mansion, they couldn't see more than a few feet below them.

"Miss Meg, we'll be crushed if we stay here!"

"Agreed. Wish me happy landing." Meg slipped out the window and hanged as low as she could before disappearing into the mist. A second later there was the sound of impact somewhere between thud and splash. "Oh gods! It's like marsh!"

"Are you harmed?"

"No, it's just a one story drop," Meg called.

A one story drop didn't sound like much, but every place they'd been in the mansion had a very high ceiling, at first anyway. The one in the nursery was now pressing down on the top of the double bed splintering the posts under its weight. Alice shifted uncomfortably. She was notably shorter than Meg, and the possibility of hurting herself was greater. But the only other possibility was to sprint back to the hallway, and she wouldn't dare risk being alone in a place like this.

"I'm sending down the looking glass Miss Meg!" said Alice, as she dropped it out the window.

"Forget the looking- Ow! Okay, got it! Come on!"

Alice climbed out onto the ledge as the structure swallowed up the nursery behind her.. "I can do this," she tried to assure herself, with no reason to believe her own words.

"I see you Lilies! You're going to be fine."

"I'm frightened, Miss Meg."

"I don't blame you. I promise it's not as bad as it looks from there. Just think happy thoughts and step forward."

Alice swallowed hard. "It's only a story," she whispered.

And then she was falling.


Continue to Chapter Seventeen
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Why the Rock-afire Explosion is the Greatest Cover Band Ever

I'm sure you don't need me to tell you who Chuck E. Cheese is. But unless you were in the right age bracket (i.e. children of the eighties), or were parents of people in the right age bracket, you might not be familiar with a certain diamond of yesteryear in the rock music/pizza parlor industry.

I, as you may know, was a child of the eighties. And I happened to reside a mere six mile drive away from an inimitable social hub known as Showbiz Pizza Place. They served pizza, as you might have intuited. And unlike Godfather's Pizza across the street, which housed a jukebox and a single stand up cabinet of Galaxian, Showbiz had a full on arcade. It was in this hallowed entertainment center that my impressionable hands first manipulated the controls of Crazy Climber, Time Pilot, Pac-Man Plus, and a little known footnote in pop culture called Dragon's Lair.

Arcades of nineteen eighty-something (one maybe?) had yet to be consumed by Skee-Ball and children's birthday parties. They were an adult gathering that happened to have an access point for kids. Showbiz Pizza opened the idea up to multi-generational entertainment. It was advertised to and for kids but it was still very much for the parents as much as the younglings. It was the cool place to go.

So that by itself is pretty much the prototype for Dave & Buster's, but Showbiz had that special something to bring it all together. It had the Rock-afire Explosion.

Let's go back in time. You walk into the seating area where you're meant to gorge on grease and pepperoni, and your eyes are immediately drawn to the proscenium stage in front of you which is flanked by two smaller stages on both sides. The curtains are all down and a suspense is prevalent in the room. The families and dates who have already been in there for some time know better than to strike up conversations about Cartesian Dualism, because something is going to happen. They're waiting for it.

Then a spotlight shines on the smaller curtain to your right, and the melody of a single acoustic guitar strums through the controlled hush. The drape rises to reveal an animatronic brown bear (about the size of an actual bear) lost in his own revelry like a folk singer or youth pastor. "Howdy folks," he giggles, "I'm Billy Bob. That's three B's, two L's, an I, a Y and an O!"

Billy Bob was the alter-ego for Orlando-based engineer Aaron Fechter. Billy Bob Brockali and the rest of the cast, as well as Showbiz's success, were ultimately the result of his creative expression and drive. Joining Billy Bob on his stage was his sidekick (the) Looney Bird, making for a spiritual pre-cursor to Banjo and Kazooie (minus the antagonism). Mirroring them on the left stage was comedy duo Rolfe DeWolfe and Earl Schmerle. Fechter voiced all four of these characters with a versatility that rivaled Frank Oz.

The technical specs behind all of these characters is the stuff of legend. Latex faces covering a complicated series of moving pieces created a seemingly endless variety of expressions, tics, and eyebrow movements. It was the kind of mechanical engineering that made Disney's Country Bear Jamboree look more like a Six Flags knockoff.

But all of the behind the scenes precision was really just a stepping stone to true greatness, which was the characters themselves. And that's what I want to talk about. Here then is what's behind the center stage curtain.

The Band

Let's see. We have a laid back Sun. And always exuberant Moon. A birthday cake wielding spider named Antioch (my latent arachnophobia still hasn't made up its mind about him). A frog that doesn't do anything. And Choo-Choo, the bear cub in the stump perpetually doing his best Whac-A-Mole impression (which Aaron Fechter also invented in 1976). And those are just the background characters.

First up in the main cast is Fatz Geronimo, a silverback gorilla who took inspiration from Lawrence Welk to become a musician. I'll pause now while that sinks in....

Fatz was the front and center keyboardist, and had a booming bass voice courtesy of writer/performer Burt "Sal" Wilson. He was also the most intimidating presence among an otherwise laid back ensemble. Under other circumstances, keeping children from crawling up on the stage between numbers would have been an issue. But Fatz looked like he was capable, and willing, to go all Five Nights at Freddy's on anyone who disrespected the barrier between performers and audience. Kids loved him, but they didn't dare mess with him.

Moving counter-clockwise was Mitzi Mozzarella, the mouse cheerleader. Being the token female member of the band, and the only one who didn't play an instrument, she was naturally relegated to songs and dialogue that required a female voice (originally a shrill falsetto from Aaron Fechter himself). In 1982 she was thankfully recast with Shalisa James, who at the time was eleven years old. With that decision came Mitzi's character development, as she aged along with her voice actress. To date, James is part of the a cappella group Toxic Audio, and is known for her extensive mental lexicon of song lyrics.

Just behind Mitzi is surfer dude Beach Bear, no real name ever given (he strikes me as a Marvin). He started off with a wild cartoony voice (also supplied by Fechter) until guitarist Rick Bailey took over. Bailey's Beach Bear was the unofficial 'fun' of the group. Personalities would clash on stage (and it wouldn't surprise me, off as well), but Beach Bear was the master of defusing tensions before they got started. If Rock-afire ever wanted to do a Mystery Science Theater-styled riff on, I don't know, a Chuck E. Cheese performance, Beach Bear would be the natural choice for the Crow lines.

Finishing out the cast is Dook LaRue, an anthropomorphic dingo drummer. From what I understand, Burt Wilson wrote most of the scripts and original pieces for the band, partitioning Fatz into the proverbial head role of the band. Billy Bob, being a combination Aaron Fechter avatar and Showbiz mascot was the clear heart. But Dook was the no-pun-intended soul of Rock-afire. You know that moment in every Marx Brothers film when Harpo drops his funny shtick and loses himself in his music? That's what happened whenever Dook took lead in a song.

His performer Duke Chauppetta was there at the beginning, before Shalisa James and Rick Bailey, when everybody else sounded like cartoon characters. And it's not to say that the original approach didn't work, but then Dook would croon out "Heartaches". Suddenly you were taken somewhere you hadn't expected to go. He was no longer an animatronic drum dog, he was a real canine musician being vulnerable. I'm sure different people who love the band cite any number of elements as the thing that made it special. And while I had a love of Earl's sarcasm, and a nine-year-old-boy crush on Mitzi, for me it was the credibility Chauppetta brought to his performance.

The Music

I know the eighties were thirty years ago, and thus closer in chronological proximity to what we called "the oldies" than our modern era of processed music, but Rock-afire was an actual education for Generation X. The Beatles, The Beach Boys, The Rolling Stones, and Elvis; all names in rock history I'd heard of but had either never connected with their songs or been introduced to them. Rock-afire changed all that.

Take the Beatles. One of the first Rock-afire performances I saw was a Beatles Medley of "You Can't Do That", "All My Loving", and "I Saw Her Standing There", with the lead vocals going from Beach Bear to Billy Bob and then to Dook. In addition to the fact that these three songs flowed into each other so well, they captivated my innocent imagination by their ordering. Beach Bear was clearly being two-timed by the love interest in question, so it made sense that she was cheating on him with Billy Bob. Mitzi was the logical character in the role of the cheating lover, which meant it wasn't really Mitzi herself moving through the band but a fictional character this fictional character was playing for the purpose of the narrative. Billy Bob would be relocating some distance away where he won't realize Mitzi has moved on to Dook. Again, I was nine, and this was the impressively adult story with no happy ending my little brain concocted.

And that's the thing, they didn't hold back. I mean, understandably there was a healthy amount of self censorship which we call 'adaptation'. But take the Elvis classic Little Sister, which barely stays in the confines of innuendo. Dook and Beach Bear don't even bother hiding the nature of the lyrics. I certainly wasn't aware of the sexual nature of the song when I was nine. But I respect the fact that they respected me enough to know that I'd get it when I was ready to. And it may be a bit blasphemous to say, but their version was an improvement over Elvis's. The same can be said for The Beach Boys' Catch a Wave where every complicated chord change is emphasized. Or Billy Bob's delightfully inappropriate homage to Mick Jagger in the Satisfaction Medley; it sounds absurd on paper, but it's a thing of beauty.

I'm of the opinion that rock music hit a plateau in the eighties with the addition of electronica. Since then we've had various styles come and go, but I can't think of a previously unused element that has been introduced to music since the synthesizer (and at this point, if a new element is forthcoming I can't imagine what it might be). But courtesy of Fatz's magic keyboard, Rock-afire was essentially on the cutting edge of music; being an homage to the oldies with an egregious eighties sensibility and a timeless feel on its own all at the same time.

The multi-layered musical elements are best examined in their Christmas shows, which I've mentioned in a couple of previous blogs. Disco Christmas was their showstopper, with every character getting their own song. Most people wouldn't think to include "Jingle Bell Rock", "Blue Christmas", "Chestnuts Roasting on an Open Fire", and "The Hallelujah Chorus" in the same medley, but it all fits together so seamlessly. 'Inspired' is the only word that accurately sums up the result. The Christmas shows also gave us Billy Bob's unexpectedly tear-jerking In December, Dook's powerful Why Can't Every Day (Be Christmas), and the cast ensemble of Twelve Days of Christmas. The first two, as best as I can tell, are original compositions that sit comfortably alongside the classic rock covers Rock-afire is known for. And Twelve Days is one extended exercise of spotlight stealing from glibber-than-he-looks Beach Bear.

That Certain Special Something

There's an X-factor that separates 'great' fictional characters from the rest of the spectrum. What that is, I don't know. And maybe nobody does. I just know how to recognize the result. It's in the Muppets, the Looney Tunes, Charlie Brown, Batman, Scooby-Doo, Star Wars, and so on. These are characters you feel like you know personally. Maybe we see something of ourselves in them because they're more human than we are, without the needless clutter we seem to pick up as we face the world daily. I would argue that Rock-afire is on that level.

Unfortunately, I don't think their 'greatness' has been fully realized...yet. The future of animatronics is probably not going to be the sole, or best, outlet for them. But nearly forty years later, these animals with instruments have stayed in my head, and in the heads of some very passionate collectors. The lucky few of us who got to see the band perform live were permanently affected by the experience. We knew these characters. We were sure that on our umpteenth visit they were starting to recognize us as well (I swear Dook looked right at me and winked). The Happy Birthday Medley was specifically for us, and the Beatles Happy Birthday was specifically for the adults. And I'm positive we all imagined some sophisticated scenarios that took place once those curtains closed.

Fatz probably had the most active life outside of Showbiz, appearing as a solo act in piano bars, and dating around. Billy Bob was so busy as Showbiz's mascot/figurehead that he wouldn't have had time for much else except laundry. Mitzi seems like the type who would keep her personal life very separate from her professional life, and I imagine she would value normalcy once she was in street clothes. Dook and Beach Bear were likely the closest offstage even if they didn't realize it. I could see them both spending really late nights working on material together, often just crashing in the dressing room, and still never really learning all that much about each other. Rolfe was probably the only one who actively kept an eye out for the next thing, acutely aware of how fleeting fame is.

And unfortunately he'd be right. Like so many stars burning brightly, Rock-afire faded. And it's a real pity, because there's so much life left in the old Looney Bird. One wishes that the Cartoon Network would make an offer to reunite the band and let them tour. And solve mysteries. There's always hope. More viably, there's always the internet. If it's true that nothing ever disappears from the internet then Rock-afire is officially immortal.

And with that, I want to leave you with Rock-afire at its peak, namely their cover of the ENTIRE Abbey Road medley. Every section of the extended track is perfectly assigned to the different characters, with Rick Bailey seamlessly inserting himself into the fray for what may have been the first time, Shalisa James showing off her A-game, and Duke Chauppetta demonstrating how much versatility he had as a singer. Even "Her Majesty" is accurately recreated with the mistimed chord edit. The whole performance is a labor of love, laced with the confidence that the Rock-afire Explosion had nothing to prove to anyone but themselves. And it was our privilege to watch them fly.

2017 Movie Wrap-Up

It's that time of year again! I get to look back on all the movies from this past year that I've seen and give them the one paragraph treatment (some of which deserve it more than others). So let's just jump into it, shall we? We shall.

Movies

The Lego Batman Movie

This may have been my biggest disappointment of the year in terms of how much I thought I would enjoy it versus what I walked away feeling. It was entertaining...enough. I guess. But The Lego Movie set a really high bar for story quality, and this one didn't even match the fun of the Lego Batman Video Game series cut scenes. Two main problems. Will Arnett's Bojack Batman is much funnier as a scene stealer than as the lead. And there's honestly nothing at stake in this movie. The Lego Movie figured it out; horror to a Lego character is being crazy glued permanently to one spot. The destruction of Lego Gotham doesn't mean anything.

Logan

Dear God, I didn't like one single thing about this movie; a sentiment made all the more nerve grating by the fact that everyone in my social circle insists on how great it is. Here's the problem: who do I care about? Wolverine is not a consistently interesting character. In order to crack his shell, he has to be in a fish out of water scenario. In Logan he's in his element, and it's Dark Knight Rises level dreariness. Xavier is waiting around to die, and an obviously bad decision on his part gets an innocent family killed. Laura is completely unsympathetic (that store clerk was only doing his job) and she never needed Logan's help in the first place. I come to the movies to get away from hopelessness, my trending on Facebook feed covers that.

Beauty and the Beast

I've made it no secret that the animated version of this story is not my favorite film, but I wound up quite pleased with the live action remake. The flaws in the original are hammered out to full effect here; the town's idolization of Gaston, the servants' role in their own punishment, a more careful build up of Belle and the Beast's connection, Gaston's more active hand in his own demise. Even Maurice gets a badass upgrade. The songs aren't entirely consistent in quality, but the movie has a lot of life in it. If only Disney would quit with the remakes here.

Guardians of the Galaxy Vol. 2

The short version: I disliked it less than the first one. I still think the core characters are shallow, and by the end of this second film they've had about as much growth as most get in their first act, but it's still growth. I can't say they got that in their first film. The new characters fare much better. Mantis was a delight. Ego was engaging. Nebula completely won me over, and since she left literally no impression on me in the first film I'm treating her like a new character. I can't really say I felt like my time had been well spent by the end of the movie, but I didn't feel like it was wasted either. I basically watched it because it's part of the MCU, and I didn't mind.

Pirates of the Caribbean: Dead Men Tell No Tales

This movie was passable. It also cost between two and three hundred million dollars to make, which is an uncomfortable price tag for passable. It's better than we'd normally expect from the fifth film in a trilogy, but Jack Sparrow honestly ran aground two films ago and there hasn't been anything new to the series to really call us back to sea. Javier Bardem manages to work in some convincing sneers, and Kaya Scodelario could have made a solid protagonist if the script had bothered to favor her. But Geoffrey Rush's Barbossa really deserved better, and it's evident the film is trying to have fun but not actually succeeding.

Wonder Woman

Everything that needs to be said about this film has been said, and it's all true. It's fantastic, and it's my number one film of the year. No, it's not perfect, but it doesn't matter that it's not perfect. What matters is that it's awesome. Now unfortunately I think we're still raving about the fact that a female led superhero film directed by *gasp* a woman director did so well, when we should honestly be well past the point where those things stand out. But if there's one lesson we've learned the hard way from 2017, it's where we are as a society. We need Wonder Woman. And until we invite her into the real world we have her movie to inspire us.

The House

Did I finish watching this movie? Hang on, let me read the synopsis. No, I think we gave up on this one. I imagine on paper this seemed like a good idea; stick Amy Poehler and Will Ferrell in a movie together about a suburban couple who has to run an impromptu casino in order to cover their daughter's college tuition. But sadly they both resort to standard SNL caliber performances which often don't carry through four minute sketches, much less a feature film. And I really wish comedies would stop reaching for that coveted R rating. If you earn it, that's fine. But shock value doesn't equate to laughs, and this movie (the first half anyway) was tepid on both.

Spider-Man: Homecoming

I have to address the inescapable. Since the dawn of the age of superhero movies, this is their third freaking time trying to get this character off the ground. It's unfair, but that shadow looms over Tom Holland. With that said, this is probably the best Spider-Man movie to date in terms of balance, pacing, emotions, action, characters, and plot. The highs of the past might peak a little higher, but the lows- you know, I'll just let you fill in the end of that thought. In addition to effectively integrating Spidey into the MCU, the movie has an inspired use of Michael Keaton to crack their villain problem. You have a good thing going, please don't screw it up again. Um, one quick question though. Who the hell has been asking for a Venom movie?

Atomic Blonde

This is another one I only got halfway through before losing interest. I mean, yeah, it's an action movie with action in it, but it fails to overcome the fundamental issue with any movie about a spy who's not James Bond. Spies aren't inherently likable. It's a competent spy movie, a bit paint by numbers. I guess the big selling point is that it's a woman in the role that's usually a men only club. Charlize Theron plays the role with all the coldness you'd expect from a real spy, which makes her, you know, kind of boring. Believable yes. But like I say, the movie didn't keep me engaged. We certainly need action heroines, but invulnerability doesn't read as character. May I suggest looking to Geena Davis in The Long Kiss Goodnight for an example of a badass you can root for?

Logan Lucky

The previews promised something they didn't deliver on. It looked like we were going to get a caper comedy. Instead we got a caper...what do you call a drama that doesn't really have drama? Just a movie? That exists? We have a caper that exists. It had some good elements. It's always nice when Channing Tatum gives a performance that- well, gives a performance. Adam Driver clearly has a range on him that we haven't seen the full extent of. And Daniel Craig looks like he's having a blast, probably happy to finally have a recognizable role besides that one Stormtrooper that Rey put the whammy on. But overall this movie started at the pace of a casual mosey, and then stayed there. Not a bad movie, but I'm pretty sure I've flipped through more exciting atlases.

Goodbye Christopher Robin

A story, by its nature, isn't primarily concerned with relaying information. It's concerned with telling you something. Hence the challenge with any story based on real events; inevitably accuracy and narrative are going to come into conflict with each other. While I can't authoritatively say this movie is accurate, my guess is that it's probably the case since narrative took so many hits. It seemed like every other scene the film introduced a new element that I was more interested in following than the primary arc, and never got to. Performances were strong. Margot Robbie is clearly going to have a long career. But in the end it was almost like the film version of a well written term paper; solid but not necessarily anything to say. Therefore I wouldn't know who to recommend it to.

Thor: Ragnarok

Tony Stark was the character who breathed a new dignity and gravitas into superhero films, which is why he led off the whole seventeen film and counting MCU. But Thor was the character they had to get absolutely right in order to have any sort of staying power, namely because he skirts the line into preposterousness. Lucky for us that Chris Hemsworth went into acting. Even then, it's been a slow multi-film process to get at his character. But by Ragnarok, we're convinced Hemsworth is Thor, and we've seen what he can do. This is the movie that truly let's us see who he is at his core. It turns out he's noble, and funny, and vulnerable, and able to hold his own against notorious upstagers like Tom Hiddleston and Jeff Goldblum. As for the movie, it comes together more episodic than single thread. But the ride is so much fun you don't mind so much.

Murder on the Orient Express

So how do you remake a classic mystery that damn near everyone already knows the ending to? Simple really, you treat it like a really good drama. This is the strength of Kenneth Branagh's direction; the same guy who gave us Dead Again, which I never get tired of re-watching. As usual the story is about the murder, but this version is equally about the way it affects the great Hercule Poirot and his black and white view on crime. Unlike a typical detective story, our sleuth is clearly changed by the end of his summation. It's unfortunate that not everyone in the all-star cast has enough opportunity to strut their talent, but the older cast members have proven themselves dozens of times over. And they're kind enough to let Daisy Ridley, Josh Gad, and Leslie Odom Jr. demonstrate their staying power. Oh by the way, Michelle Titania Eris Sukie Ridgemont Catwoman Mindy Simmons Pfeiffer still has not peaked as an actress. At this point, it's quite possible she never will.

Justice League

I kind of liked Batman Five Superman. Sure the Martha thing was silly, but I think people have been unnecessarily harsh on it overall. With that said, I thought Justice League was even better. Perhaps not where we want it to be (truthfully, we're fans, we don't know what we want) but the franchise is moving in the right direction. Steppenwolf was decent enough, and at least a step above the majority of Marvel's Phase One and Two villains. The Flash, Aquaman, and Cyborg were all a lot more likable than I was expecting. And Henry Cavill finally owned his role as Superman. My past criticisms about Zack Snyder still hold, but out of all the working directors in Hollywood I think I've seen the most growth from him. There were a lot more good things here than bad. So listen nerds, quit being bullies. We're better than this.

The Disaster Artist

I'm assuming you've experienced Tommy Wiseau's The Room; if not, I can't help you in this one paragraph review of a different film. So let me skip to James Franco. I'm happy to be wrong about this, but Franco strikes me as one of the cool kids. I don't mean that as a compliment, just a categorization from someone who grew up as anything but. For whatever reason, Franco seems like a cool kid who has a bizarre attraction to being a misfit. It would explain his draw to completely-detached-from-reality Wiseau. But unlike Franco's past attempts to infiltrate the world of misfits, he does a thorough job here. It's inevitable that The Disaster Artist gets compared to Ed Wood, a similar concept about a passionate director with limited-to-no talent and the fruit of their labors. Whereas Wood's problem was that he was best suited for radio drama (a flavor that translated poorly to film), Wiseau's obstacle is a chronic lack of understanding human behavior. This film about a film succeeds in humanizing Wiseau in a way the man himself never could. Early buzz is that the film is an Oscar contender, and I quite agree; James Franco may very well have earned a director's nomination. But for acting, that accolade goes squarely to his brother James for his portrayal of actor Greg Sestero, the audience surrogate caught between Tommy's world and our own. And kudos to the ending. While Ed Wood was kind enough to omit the part where people treated the director as a joke in favor of a fabricated happy ending, The Disaster Artist embraces the reactions as a vital element to what makes the bad movie something so special.

Star Wars: The Last Jedi

I loved it. Are there flaws? Yes. Do they matter? Honestly no, not to me. There were some things that could have been handled better (Laura Dern's character, Finn's sidequest, where the hell Lando is), and the sequel trilogy still hasn't given us that ONE iconic lightsaber battle on par with Darth Maul and "No, I AM your father", but this movie did everything a Star Wars movie needs to. It advanced it's own arc, challenged the overall mythology, and showed us a few things we hadn't seen before. I think at this point Rey has proven herself every bit as much iconic as my childhood action figures. Right now, this movie has edged out A New Hope as my second favorite Star Wars film. I'll need a few months to decide how exactly it compares to Empire.

Jumanji: Welcome to the Jungle

Ginny and I went this morning to an early showing, and it was the perfect movie to end a really horrible year on. Even better than the premise and the funny lines, the characters were legitimately likable. The jock, the nerd, the princess, and the bookworm (Scooby-Doo minus the dog) get trapped in a sentient video game that just wants friends; kind of like a Tron version of The Breakfast Club. The bulk of the fun in any body switching movie is watching the actors pull off the multiple layers of credibility. The Rock's charm as a Hollywood star is his refusal to take himself seriously, but he's quite adamant about treating the high school kid inhabiting him with respect. Kevin Hart is clearly in his element, and Jack Black has been waiting his whole career to play a teenage girl. But it's Karen Gillan who really shows off her range, always presenting both the Lara Croft expy and the terrified girl inside her simultaneously. In the end I found myself wishing to spend more time with the characters outside of their game. But less is more and the movie is best left sequel-free; the short but sweet jewel of the Jaguar's Eye that it is. Jumanji!

The Ghosts of Christmas Specials

Ebenezer Scrooge! You suck! Just thought I'd drop by to remind you. I mean, yeah, you've changed your miserly ways, built a few hospitals, supported the local humane society and all that jazz, but you still suck! And why? Well, I'll tell you.

You see, you have forsaken Christmas once again by embracing it too much. I know that doesn't make any sense, stop looking at me like that! I'm talking about sacrificing quality for quantity. Have you looked at the Christmas specials in your Netflix cue? What on earth have you been watching? Saccharine, that's what. Flimsy plots that barely tie together acapella renditions of "Jingle Bell Rock", people throwing their careers away for a single kiss in the snow, and 101 ways to derail Santa's whole racket with one poorly timed appearance at the North Pole (haven't we all just wandered in there?). These aren't Christmas specials. These are Christmas mundanes.

So that's why I'm here, to warn you that you need to cut that out if you really want to save your soul or something. And with that in mind, I've taken the liberty of assembling the usual lot. Tonight you will be visited by three specials that did it right. Listen to them. Watch them. Do what they say. Or your chain, which I forgot to mention earlier, will be longer than mine. What chain is that, you ask? It's the one where you make ten copies of this letter and send them anonymously to strangers so you can experience good luck, and if you don't you'll single handedly ruin everything! Yep. Global warming is all on you. Merry Christmas!

Mystery Science Theater 3000: Santa Claus Conquers the Martians

To start with, this episode is very funny. Every MST episode has some good laughs, but occasionally you get one that strikes the right balance of having a bad movie that's intriguingly watchable on its own paired with a running commentary that's pretty damn solid from start to finish. Martians is one of those gems that you can show to a non-MST fan and at the very least get them to understand why people rave about the show (even if you don't convert them).

But what really makes this episode stand out is the flavor of the host segments. If you don't know, MST is a show identified by its biting sarcasm. Sentiment isn't really a concept that has any room in the intentional cheapness of production and the team's refusal to take anything about itself seriously. Even when Joel Hodgson left the show, or either time the series ended, you never really felt anything about the characters. You weren't meant to. The show was wit, not heart.

Which is why Martians is unique to the show. Somewhere between Crow's Christmas wish that he gets to decide who lives and dies and Tom Servo's suggestion that Santa was killed in Viet Nam, Joel pauses to reflect on whether or not they've become so jaded that the spirit of Christmas has been lost to them. And then Gypsy (good luck getting that name in the final script today) silently presents a manager scene with no facetiousness and no punch line, before going to commercial. It's quick, and they don't big deal out of it, but it may be the most poignant acknowledgement of Christ since Linus recited the Gospel of Luke.

To the best of my understanding, the MST veterans are predominantly Christian. I am as well. Perhaps you aren't, and I'm not remotely bothered by that. But if you celebrate something around the time of the cold and the shortening of days, I do hope it has a meaning for you. Whatever it may be. Even if you don't know what that meaning is, I hope you get to experience it some time this season. The Grinch never figured out exactly what Christmas meant, but simply accepting the possibility of a meaning was enough for him to feel a joy he hadn't felt before. And for MST, a mere moment of reflection among an hour and a half of one-liners speaks volumes.

The Bells of Fraggle Rock

How about a Christmas special that never mentions Christmas (if you factor out the wraparound segments)? Fraggle Rock was a brilliant show that set out to end war, and would damn near succeed if world leaders would take the time to listen to their inner songs. Gobo is the most level-headed of the Fraggles, approaching things like magic with a certain scientific mindset that he developed purely on his own accord.

As the Festival of the Bells approaches, Gobo finds himself experiencing a crisis of faith that he can't quite describe as such. Being the only Fraggle who can't accept the story behind the festival at face value, he declares that he'll be able to prove the existence of the Great Bell; something that he thinks will restore the festival's significance that has slipped away from him.

The takeaway is ultimately left ambiguous. Does he become a believer again? Does he accept comfort in the story as metaphor? And who exactly is this particular story meant to reach? I wonder what would happen if an agnostic told this story to a group of children. Which elements would be emphasized?

Christmas can be a frustrating time for people prone to wanting spiritual answers. My experiences with most churches is that if a conversation about doubt is even permitted to begin, it's cut off by a traditional non-answer like "Well, you just have to have faith," which appeases the one who was never comfortable with the question in the first place while pushing away the one who's asking.

The bottom line here: some people simply cannot do things the easy way, their inner song dictates they try to observe the invisible. From a purely goal-driven perspective, the pursuit is futile. But experience teaches the lessons it has, not the ones you expect it to have. And that feeling we refer to as 'the Christmas spirit' only pokes its head in when we stop listening to our own voices and just hear what's around us.

The reason it's fun to ride in a one horse open sleigh is because you're fully invested in the journey as you're experiencing it. The Christmas party at the home of Farmer Gray will happen when it does. For now, just jingle. And commit to doing it all the way.

ALF's Christmas Special

It's probably nothing more than coincidence that all three of these specials involve puppetry. Although if there really is anything to it, I guess I would argue that puppets are inherently more human than human. They have no poker faces or repressing workplace etiquette. Ulterior motives don't exist unless they show up in the character's voice or mannerisms. In that regard, a puppet will naturally be more honest than any of us will. And I guess that makes them the ideal catalysts for Christmas tales of any sort of emotional weight.

So ALF. Some people may not know; he was a brown puppet alien character from an eighties sitcom of the same name (it stands for Alien Life Form). After crash landing on earth he winds up in the care of the Tanner family, trying to find ways to integrate himself into daily life without being discovered by the government.

In the Christmas special, ALF pushes the Tanners about as close to their breaking point as his performer allegedly did in real life to the production team, and they order him out of the cabin they're staying at for the holidays. The alien gets stuck in the back of the cabin owner's truck, which is full of toys destined for a children's hospital. ALF soon finds himself posing as a Christmas toy to a little girl named Tiffany.

He intentionally blows his own cover sooner than you'd expect and asks her for help getting out of the hospital so he can return to the Tanners. It's kind of a tear jerking moment, because Tiffany was clearly bonding with what she thought was a stuffed animal for her to keep. But not to worry. That moment gets completely overshadowed by the kick in the gut you receive when you find out she's also terminally ill, and this is going to be her last Christmas.

Not kidding here. Tiny Tim undoubtedly got cured and grew up to be a key activist in the fight against starvation. Tiffany gets no Christmas miracle here in this eighties sitcom. In the end, the Tanner's come to spend Christmas with her in the hospital, and that's nice enough. But the episode makes it clear that she's not going to live. It aired thirty years and five days ago, and I'm still about to lose it just thinking about her.

Luckily we have a much needed bit of ALF-ish hijinks when the furball gets stuck in an elevator with a pregnant woman and has to deliver her baby himself (which is apparently not that hard to figure out, if television is to be believed). It's a welcomed palette cleanser and a return to Christmas special form, as the normally selfish ALF gets to be the guardian angel for a stranger in need. And it makes the episode's Act III mood swing feel all the more like a drop kick when ALF witnesses the aforementioned cabin owner one step away from committing suicide. What the f**k happened in 1987 to take us down this road?

Christmas comes at a time when our side of the world is literally heading into a dark place (or technically, just as we're coming out of it). It's odd to me that Christmas specials rarely go as dark as this one does. Many people hurt during the holidays, and because of the reflective nature of winter that pain seems to make itself known in different ways. Contrary to popular belief, the suicide rate is actually at a low point around Christmas (April being the high), but it certainly doesn't mean the pain isn't there.

We all carry things that hurt, and the older I get the more I notice what kind of stress the holidays put on us. It's like, bringing joy to the world is such a gritty determination for us that we easily lose sight of how to experience it. Maybe what we should be doing instead is granting ourselves some time to mourn. Every one of us had at least one connection last Christmas that we no longer have now. I wonder what would happen if we allowed ourselves a chance to be sad, instead of trying so hard to be happy. Maybe, just maybe, the Christmas spirit is something we need, not something we can make or buy or binge watch.

Merry Christmas, and may God bless us every one.