Build a Better Mousetrap

There's a mouse in my house. Pop culture paints mice as the heroes of the rodent world, the cute cuddly friends that always overcome the odds to survive with a smile on their face and a joke in their heart. One mouse cutting across my living room was enough for me to overcome this programming. I WANT BLOOD.

He's devious. I had him trapped behind a bookshelf, and then I used books to create IMPENETRABLE barriers on either side of the shelf. He was going to have to chew through my roommate's copy of Hillary Clinton's autobiography to reach freedom, and with her face on the cover, he wasn't even likely to try. No creature could chew through Hillary Clinton's face to reach freedom. It defies the laws of nature.

Then I put out traps, inside the barriers. In selecting a mousetrap, I went for the old school spring trap. Not because they're effective, or because I enjoyed trapping my fingers about six times trying to set the traps, but because I wanted the carnage. Then I baited them with cheese. As I was checking the traps an hour later, he had gotten the cheese without tripping the spring. And he had escaped, because he took off down the baseboard. At one point he ran DIRECTLY OVER A SPRING TRAP without setting it off.

The next morning he was spotted in the kitchen, so I sealed it off, bought two glue traps (supposedly sometimes they'll chew off their own legs when trapped!), changed the bait on the spring traps to peanutbutter (choosy mice choose Jif) and waited. Nothing. Either he left the building or he's biding his time. But you DO NOT come into my house, make me scream like a girl, force me to stand on a chair even though I outweigh you by 195 pounds, and eat my Safeway cheese. I will hunt him to the ends of the earth. It's personal.

Bring me the head of mouse John the Baptist.

Side note: the helpful instructions on the glue traps include the final step, "Dispose of trap and mouse." I was hoping for "Remove mouse's head, display on pike in yard as warning to others who dare oppose your will." Or maybe some instructions for a mouse cassarole. But I guess "dispose of trap" is OK.

Update: while I was writing this, he made another appearance, running through my dining room just as I was typing the last sentence. He sensed my blog and challenged my authority. He must die. I'm not sure how he made it behind the dining room bookcase, as I pushed it flush against the wall after the last time he hid there. He might be the mouse version of Mr. Fantastic. If that's the case I might be dead by the morning. Pray for me. In fact, pray for all of god's creatures. But not that mouse. He's clearly devilspawn.

Tags: mouse

Taylor Made

Zachary Taylor was a war hero and president. But first and foremost, he was a Virginian, and so he gets that state's highest honor:

It's a highway road sign! And it marks the spot where Taylor was born. Maybe. Apparently the exact location of his birth is in dispute. We've all had that famous Virginia drinking debate, "Where was Zachary Taylor REALLY born?" It usually ends in violence, and so the state opted to end the bloodshed by putting a very definitive metal sign on a shoulderless road next to a private driveway. It was probably in response to a bribe, so that all that Zachary Taylor birthplace tourism money would get funneled to the Highway 33 corridor. You can't actually visit any house or tour any grounds, and there's not really a parking spot where you could safely pull over to take a picture. And I didn't see any construction site for the theme park, but I have to think it's at least in the planning stages.

Having acquired the stink of Virginia respectability, Taylor was moved as baby to Kentucky, where he grew up in that state's backwards plantation culture. But he shall never be remembered among the awful pantheon of presidents from Kentucky. Nay, he stands proudly at the side of John Tyler, and William Henry Harrison: A VIRGINIAN!

Coincidentally, there isn't a public Zachary Taylor home that you can visit, anywhere. He's buried in Louisville, but if you want to get technical, he spent at least part of his afterlife in the District of Columbia. In ye olde days, prominent people who kicked it in the District were stashed in the "public vault" at Congressional Cemetery, just down the street from Chris White World Headquarters, until their remains could be removed to their final resting place. So Taylor, William Henry Harrison and John Quincy Adams (and Dolley Madison!) all were tenants in this fine structure:

Swank, huh?

Signs of the Times

Virginia has many historical road signs, many of them in fabulous locations with no shoulder, no parking spot and no chance of reading them without causing a major traffic accident. The lesson to aspiring young scholars: try to learn, and die under the bumper of the Ford F450 that's been trying to pass you on the left for the last 10 miles.

But take that risk, kids. Knowledge will serve you well, even if you're in traction for 10 or 11 years.

I've been meaning to scratch the Zachary Taylor sign off my list for about two years, but it's close to the middle of nowhere, and if you're on a day trip with friends it's a pretty tough sell to tack 90 minutes onto a trip to see a sign. And if you could convince them to do that, they would be insane, and you shouldn't be friends with them.

But as it turns out, I had a fine gig in Charlottesville on Wednesday, so with a little creative routing it was a snap. The whole day was very presidential. I cruised about 12 miles south of Cville to Keene, to try and find Theodore Roosevelt's Pine Knot hunting lodge. The web site SAYS it's by appointment only, but if you just drive on down to Keene, you'll find out that they are 100 percent serious. There aren't any road signs or anything, you'd have to guess which driveway is the righ tone, and once you pass one nearby home with 15 cars and various appliances on the lawn, it sort of cools off your desire to try a little educational trespassing. It's the sort of place where people have guns and know how to use them, so I decided to move Pine Knot in the "maybe later" column.

After that it was off to downtown Cville and Thomas Jefferson's "academic village":

That's UVA, baby, or at least the old-school core that TJ designed himself as part of his master plan to create a race of academic supermen. It's a true testament to what an impressive man Jefferson was. But then I had dinner at The Virginian, just across the street, and read 50 pages of "John Adams," a true testament to what a jerk Jefferson was. It's the third book I've read in the last year (all by different authors) that features Jefferson prominently, and he always comes across as an elitist, fussy, hypocritical backstabber who spends money like a drunken sailor. A great man, to be sure, but hardly the "sage of Monticello" that gets pumped up in the popular imagination.

The show was at Wild Wings, and it was fun. The only obviously dissatisfied customer was a self described "country" woman, who, to put it politely, looked like a longshoreman. She was very loud, and very drunk, and made a point of sassing me on her exit. I asked if there was a biker gang emergency she had to attend to, since she looked like the kind of lady who either was in biker gangs or serviced them regularly. She left, and then came back 10 minutes later with two very large bouncer-looking guys who she said were bikers. Their plan was to stand there and stare at me, with the clear implication that they might attempt to beat me up later. But they were smiling, and when they revealed that they rode Japanese sport bikes and were not in any kind of gang, the jig was up. The lady staggered off into the night and I was not beaten to near-death in the parking lot. All's well that ends well!

Tags: presidents

New Podcast: "And Here's the Kicker"

I first met Mike Sacks at The Washington Post -- he was my co-worker when I started work there in the late '90s. After a few months, he moved to New York City, where he took a job with Vanity Fair.

I've heard from him on and off over the last decade, and a few months ago he e-mailed me to say he'd just finished a book. It's called "And Here's the Kicker," and it's a collection of interviews with some top-shelf humor writers of all kinds. He talked to movie guys, newspaper guys, TV guys, cartoonists ... in some cases the interviews stretched over hours, and now the condensed results will be in a book store near you in early July.

I've been leafing through an advance copy and it's really good. The interviews go into specifics on some of the biggest projects of each writer, plus he gets their general thoughts on the writing life and humor in general. There are also tip sheets between the interviews filled with practical advice on how to get your humor writing published or noticed. It's not an instructional book, and you might have to be a pretty big humor fan to have a working familiarity with all the different projects discussed in the interviews. But if you're a fan or student of comedy I highly recommend it.

Mike talked to me on the phone ... you can get the 30-minute interview over at podcast page.

M-I-C ...

I'm happy to report that my long national nightmare is over. It took four traps and a lot of praying, but the mouse in my house has been disposed of. As part of my descent into paranoia, I've decided to keep a four-trap rotation in effect in my kitchen (the price of insanity is eternal vigilance), but for now we reduced the mouse threat level to yellow.

The actual catching was a bit of a letdown, as the mouse just got caught in a glue trap. He almost wriggled free, though, so I took a second glue trap and put it on his back, making a mouse glue trap sandwich. Then I bagged the whole mess up and threw it out. From the mouse's perspective, a snapped spine probably would have been a better way to go, but if there's anything that really sucks about being a mouse, it's a general inability to control fate.

Tags: podcast

Mr. Zip

Of the many things I have never done, zip lining, as of Saturday, is no longer one of them. I could have started out in the rainforests of central America or the mountains of the Pacific Northwest, but being a man, I cut my teeth in the astonishing wilds of Savage, Maryland. Arriving at Terrapin Adventure, I boldly stepped into and adjusted my crotch harness. Then I walked, as normally as possible while wearing a crotch harness, a gruelling uphill path through a parking lot, so that I could stare death in the face.

There was about a 20 minute wait to stare death in the face, so I stood in line. Then I climbed a 20-foot ladder to stand on a small platform, where a woman gave me a cable, and let me know that death would be seeing me ANY TIME NOW. Then I walked across a wire (I was harnessed, so while death might have had me in its peripheral vision, it was not staring in my face) to another platform, where a man gave me instructions on how to stare death in the face, then hooked a clip to my crotch harness and attached me to the zip line.

Turning now to face death, I HOPPED, yea, HOPPED from the platform and into the cold beam of its steely gaze. At which point a slid as many as FIFTEEN FEET about the ground! Yea, I was one with the eagles, as I soared at more than twice the height of an average man, at speeds approaching that of a cheetah, were that cheetah moving at the speed of a sprinting man of reasonable health!

And then, 15 seconds later, another man walked over to where I was dangling with another ladder, and unhooked my crotch from the line.

There are but 20 items left on the list of things yet to do, with "Knife-fight a Hobo King in a Railyard" as the most logistically feasible. I'm packing my handkerchief and heading to Union Station at some point in the next week. You shall be kept abreast of the results.

Movie Review: Up

Just a fabulous movie, in so many ways that it's hard to list them all. It's inventive, whimsical and goofy at times to the point of hilarity. And it has some very real sentiment. I very seldom get emotionally moved by any kind of artistic endeavor, but this movie marks the second time that Pixar made my eyes water. There's a sequence at the beginning of the movie, running down a 50-year relationship in about three minutes, that has more poignancy and depth as a cartoon than any sequence with live actors could ever have. What Pixar is doing as a movie studio the last decade is nothing short of astonishing.

Go see it. You won't be unhappy with your decision.

Tags: movies

Truly Excellent Band Names taken From My Recent Reading

• Minority Whip
• Committe of the Whole
• Energy Committee
• Oberstar
• Louise Slaughter
• People On the Move
• Future Combat Systems
• Braintree Mass
• Oil System Master
• The Church of the Brethren
• Gun Lobby
• The Destin Dome
• Dream College

The Well-Tempered Republican

One of the most-loved stories in the media in recent months is how awful Republicans have it, how the party is in complete disarray and how it is in severe risk of shriking to an insignificant regional concern. This is a very prominent story because a) it sounds plausible, and b) Democratic-leaning reporters really enjoy writing it. Once you've seen the other team beaten to a pulp, why not give them advice? I'm sure opponents regularly advise the Nationals to throw more strikes. They're just being helpful!

Anyone with a good memory (a crippling weakness in politics) should recall the 2002 and 2004 elections, when Republicans completely bucked historical trends and managed to expand some of their political control. There was a lot of talk about the Democratic party being a hopelessly disorganized mishmash of interest groups with no coherent platform, and by most reports Karl Rove was busy plotting his grand strategy for something like 5,000 years of Republican control and NO ONE COULD STOP HIM. There wasn't quite the same level of media enthusiasm (blogs are a little more prominent now) but it was definitely a story.

Somehow the people in charge of spinning this crap actually set the news agenda, probably because "Things Change, Will Eventually Change Back" is a boring headline. Democrats obviously did some things right on the way to the top, but how hard is it to win when there's a historically bad economy (years in the making!) and you promise the vast majority of voters expanded benefits at no personal cost? When Republicans end up back on top it won't be the result of pure strategic genius.

What's frustrating is that people who supposedly study this stuff, who KNOW how these things play out over time, either willfully disregard what they know to manipulate people, or to shoehorn facts into a narrative they find attractive. Sad. Trust no one. Watch the skied.

Tags: politics

You Can't Do Magic

I am not a fashion plate. I am not even a fashion paper plate. But if you have Stan Van Gundy's body type, button-ups are definitely the way to go.

It's pretty much impossible to look at Stan Van Gundy and imagine that he ever played basketball. Ever. Andy Reid is a fat load, but he was an offensive lineman -- it makes sense. If you're a professional athlete, how do you relate to a guy with no muscle tone and shirt designed to accentuate his bosoms?

Picture Perfect

In the spirit of the wildly successful 2008 Karaoke Challenge, in which it was determined that I am an infinitely superior singer and performer than my still lovely and talented girlfriend (as chronicled in this blog), I am happy to announce the 2009 Photography Challenge!

I will choose two subjects. My girlfriend will choose two subjects. We will each get one "wild card." We each submit one photo from each category, with mysterious judges determining the ultimate winner.

Remember this: the only true way to express affection is by asserting dominance through contests. It's why Little League exists.

Tags: sports

Things I Absolutely Will Not Tolerate From Guantanamo Bay Detainees

I find unlawful military detention to be a great stain on our nation's moral fabric, a condition that lessens us all as a people. Each day that we hold prisoners in this way, millions upon billions of radical extremists are hardened in their resolve to end the greatest nation in the history of the known universe.

But I swear to you that no prisoner from Guantanamo Bay will ever be held in a prison in this congressional district.

If it is determined by authorities greater than myself that these prisoners must be moved to some congressional district, I pledge that at no point will any vehicle containing a Guantanamo Bay prisoner touch any portion of this district. Any plane carrying a prisoner will be required to reach an altitude of 35,000 feet before passing over. Hot air baloons will be right out, especially any dangling long, climbable ropes that scrape the treetops.

Should any attempt be made to move the prisoners first to Key West, I will fight to my last breath to keep them from being transported by armored convoy along U.S. 1, where any number of terrorist or mercenary-owned attack helicopters could swoop in, Bruckheimer-like, and liberate those prisoners, from which point they would escape to Miami and live, as fugitives, through Medicare fraud or dominoes winnings.

If anyone tries to move the Guantanamo prisoners to the holding facility carved into Nevada's Yucca mountain ... well, I think I would be OK with that, but good luck getting those Nevada jerks to sign off.

If absolutely no location can be found to house those prisoners, and they are released on U.S. soil and opt to stay here and make a go of things as honest businessmen, under no circumstances will I condone some kind of tax break or other economic incentive to lure their affordable labor here. Even if they came without incentives and established flourishing businesses, I would refuse to cut a ribbon at any franchise opening, even if that business was some kind of Islamist-themed ice cream shop that served flavors I greatly enjoy and would no doubt sample for free.

If they try to open a day care center, I will write a very strongly worded letter protesting the granting of the license. Ditto for any kind of vocational training campus that would teach bomb-making or urban warfare. Nor will I condone the hiring of such men as clowns or magicians at any kind of church picnic.

And while I have no legal recourse in such matters, let it be known that if any of them attempt to date my daughter, she will no longer be my daughter, for I will disown and shun her. Even if she just had too much to drink after getting off her shift as an Applebee's hostess, and then maybe had a sloppy make-out session with a Guantanamo prisoner before realizing what he was, I would write her out of my will if she let him get past second base.

As long as these conditions are met, I look forward to quickly and fairly ending this, the darkest and most egregious abuse of humanity ever recorded. Ever.

Tags: politics

Ad Nausea

There's a new Prius ad where, as the car drives along, cartoon trees and flowers sprout from the ground in its wake. I know a hybrid is BETTER for the environment, but at what point did it become GOOD for the environment? You're still driving a car that produces some carbon and has a battery which is probably a bit toxic. They don't exactly shoot seeds and rainbows out of the tailpipe.

It's a joke that people buy hybrids to feel good about themselves. Once the car companies start to pick up on that fact and start to MARKET around it, I'd say that qualifies as confirmation. The Prius: When you need a car that makes you feel better than everyone else!

This is chump change, however, compared to the new ad of exciting teenagers, pouting and trying to look fiercely independent, REFUSING to accept the status quo ... by using Miracle Whip. The choice of a new generation. When they give up on life and start to build their lunchtimes around slathering.

Tags: ads

Health Care Solutions for the Unemployed

As an unemployed person, the chances are that you won't be interested in the needless luxury item known as health care. And if you do care ...

Change your Attitude!

What doctors aren't telling you: if you can't see bone poking through skin, then it's all in your head. And why would they tell you? They had to go through about 15 years of schooling to get an entry-level job in their profession. If everyone knew that the vast majority of conditions were nothing more than health-care-industry induced paranoia, that would make doctors look pretty stupid, and beautiful nurses do not have secret rendezvous with stupid people. They could have skipped all that schooling and still picked a lucrative profession, like professional basketball player. And beautiful nurses WILL sleep with pro ballers. It's science.

Almost every ailment you encounter over the course of a year is insignificant; and with this handy chart you can diagnose yourself without any costly office visits:

• Stabbing pain in lower left abdomen . . . . . . . Gas
• Bleeding from unexpected orifice . . . . . . . Really Bad Gas
• Dizziness, shortness of breath, tingling sensation in arms and legs . . . . . . . Too much hot salsa
• Uncontrollable weeping . . . . . . . You watched "Finding Nemo"
• Intense pain radiating outward from the center of the skull . . . . . . . Too much ice cream
• Wet cough . . . . . . . Too much ice cream
• A sharp metal object has been slid between my ribs . . . . . . . Angina
• Random organ failure . . . . . . . Gas

While this is just a random sampling of symptoms, there is a universal cure: walk it off. Should you experience any of these symptoms, immediately get on your feet and take a quick walk around the block with your hands resting on your hips. If the symptoms prevent you from walking, writhe it off.

The only ailment that requires immediate medical attention is when bone visibly pokes out of your skin. If this happens, you do not require professional help. All you will need: A kettle of water; A roll of paper towels, double ply if possible; The Chris White Home Tourniquet Set.

1) Bring the kettle of water to a boil

2) Push the bone back to where it should be. If you aren't sure of the exact positioning, you should hear a faint "click" when the bone slots back into its original position.

3) Apply the Chris White Home Tourniquet Set (Now With Adjustable Velcro Tensioning Bands) to the affected area.

4) Dab up any mess with the paper towels

5) If necessary, pay your bar tab and go home

During this process, you might experience lightheadedness or uncontrollable weeping. If that's the case, make a note to eat less ice cream and not think about "Finding Nemo."

Catastrophic Health Coverage

There are unfortunate times in life when, without warning, several of your bones will be poking out from your skin at the same time, probably because you have been hit by a bus. These times are called catastrophes, as you will likely be unable to apply the Chris White Home Tourniquet Set without outside assistance.

These rare situations are the only time medical professionals are truly needed, and this is when you're going to want catastrophic health insurance. For only $50-$100 each month, many health insurance companies will agree to pay all your medical expenses, once you have spent your own money to cover the ride to the hospital (estimated cost: $4,932). This coverage will last until you have incurred $5 million in medical expenses, or until the health insurance company tires of cutting you checks, whichever comes first.

Even the savvy unemployed person can be financially devastated by the upfront costs of a catastrophe, so the best course of action is to never go near a bus or in fact leave the house. As you are unemployed, this should be relatively easy to do.

Tags: health

Movie Review: Drag Me to Hell

"Drag me to the movie theater for another viewing!" --chriswhitesucks.com

This was an entertaining movie which, at PG-13, was my kind of scary. I'm not really a torture and graphic dismemberment kind of guy. No, I'm an "old gypsy woman vomiting worms on someone's face" kind of guy. If I'm ever single again, that will be the first line in my eHarmony profile.

It might shock you to discover that this is a movie about someone, amazingly enough, getting dragged to hell. In this case, it's a hot loan officer. Her only realy crime, aside from dating the "Mac" guy (Justin Long, who only could inspire me to buy a Mac if I could then beat him to death with it), is being in the wrong place at the wrong time. She forecloses on a gypsy lady, who promptly summons a demon that will haunt the girl for three days and then take her soul to burn in eternal torment.

If anything, this movie clarifies why gypsies have been shunned and persecuted for centuries: because apparently, they are jerks. The move begins with a gypsy cursing a 9-year-old who stole a necklace from her. There is no juvenile detention for gypsies. Steal a necklace? BURN IN HELL. Deny a loan extension? BURN IN HELL. Buy the last scone at Starbucks with a gypsy right behind you in line? Do not pass go, my friend. All previous philsophical struggles over right and wrong have become irrelevant, because that gypsy is gonna throw the BURN IN HELL card. They're like the douchebag who goes all in on every hand at poker night.

Anyhow, the loan officer does not really WANT to go to hell, so the story arc has her fighting off hallucinations, and trying to impress her boyfriend's parents, while dabbling in the occult in her spare time. You know, in between the gym and sudoku. The whole thing is campy and scary in just the right amount, and I salute Sam Raimi for taking all his newfound Hollywood clout to make a movie exactly like "Evil Dead" with no-name actors. Find what you love to do and do it well, baby.

As a final note: I saw this horror movie at an urban movie theater, at 10:15 on a Saturday night. And the majority-black audience managed to live up to EVERY STEREOTYPE of a black horror-movie audience. Yelling advice at the characters never gets old. It would really help most Merchant-Ivory productions. Somebody get working on this.

Movie Review: Star Trek

As a Star Trek enthusiast and JJ Abrams unenthusiast, I was fully prepared to despise this movie.

But I couldn't do it! It was entertaining. All the effects looked way better than in any other Star Trek, and the acting was pleasant enough. If they're planning a whole new series of movies, I'm not sure why they tore apart the entire Star Trek universe and all the back story, since doing so wipes away all of the character relationships that they had built up in the TV show. [SPOILERS AHEAD]

I'm also not sure why most of the crew seemed relatively unmoved or emotional after watching the most heinous act of genocide ever perpetrated.

And I don't get how they could be so cavalier about making a new black hole in relatively close proximity to earth. Or why when they made that black hole they stayed around to gloat, and then almost got sucked into the black hole.

And come to think of it, I don't see how the paradoxes of time travel would work out. Or why anyone would build a mining ship to include staggered, floating walkways with no guard rails over fatally high chasms. Or how a mining ship could last in the alpha quadrant undetected for 25 years with no access to space docks. Or how Eric Bana ever gets work.

Hey, wait a minute -- I DESPISE THIS MOVIE!

OK, not really. It was pretty good.

Space ...

I am not a "Trekkie." I do not own any costumes, memorabilia, toys, or novels inspired by "Star Trek." I cannot speak any Klingon. I have never been to a Star Trek convention.

And yet I have seen almost all the movies, every episode of "Next Generation," every episode of "Deep Space 9," almost every episode of "Voyager" and a pretty good chunk of the original series.

If there is a better phrase for what I am, please share it! E-mail me at chris@dcstandup.com. And please, you can do better than "nerd."

Tags: movies

New Podcast: Into the Woods

Please enjoy this latest exciting audio sketch, which I cleverly titled "Into the Woods." It is a stunning morality play in 13 acts. Do not be fooled by the 4 minute, 45 second run time -- it is a tour de force, a veritable encapsulation of all the learning the Enlightenment has to offer.

Oh, wait, it's about a guy meeting a leprechaun in the forest. My bad. And you know what? If you missed it, go back and download Favorite Island. I listened to it again today, and I have to say, it's pretty brilliant. For me, at least.

Green Screening

HBO renewed its sponsorship of Screen on the Green!

HOORAY! It just wouldn't be summer if you couldn't arrive three hours early to have a cramped picnic and then watch a movie you usually enjoy on a small screen with crappy sound while your view is partially blocked by some bearded middle-aged wine-sipping government worker who got there FOUR hours early with the highest-backed beach chair in the world. And then, at the end of the night, as the ground starts getting damper from all the spilled Two Buck Chuck and moisture condensing from the 98 percent humidity you usually get in Washington in the summer, you can pick up your soggy blanket, survey your joint pain from sitting in an awkward position for five hours and leave garbage all over the place.

What I'm getting at: if you enjoy getting drunk while sitting on the National Mall, YOU DON'T NEED A MOVIE. All you need is a brown paper bag and a dream. Stop running with the herd!

Apparently this series was in danger of cancellation due to a lack of sponsors. But at the last second, they got their money from an organization hoping to protect the Mall, which takes a regular pounding from events like this that don't need to be on the Mall. I've lived through 10 years of deteriorating grass and muddy slop on our great national vista, and in that time I have developed a stunning personal vision for its use. It involves topiaries that, when viewed from a helicopter, depict my face. I think we can all agree that such an artistic triumph is more important that a few congressional interns and nonprofit drones playing softball on the patch of green space that just happens to be closest to their office. Those selfish bastards.

Tags: podcast

New Podcast: Judah Friedlander

Better late than never! Last week I talked to Judah Friedlander of "30 Rock" and "American Splendor" fame. I think the conversation is a little slow at the start, but once it gets rolling he shares his thoughts about quite a few aspects of Hollywood. Neat stuff.

Go get it at the podcast page.

Movie Review: The Hangover

The plot: stupid people do stupid things for about two hours, and in the end, no one really has much in the way of redeeming qualities. But it's entertaining!

If I have any beef, it's that they put a lot of the best surprises in the commercials and previews -- there was lots of fresh stuff (especially from Zach Galifianakis), but it would have been a better overall experience if you didn't know Mike Tyson figured into the plot, for example.

And we should all note that, once again, Bradley Cooper plays a total d***. He's now officially the go-to a-hole for any comedy of the next five years.

Movie Trailer Review: Bruno

I also got to see the "Bruno" trailer for about the 20th time, and I have to say: Meh. I definitely laughed at parts of Borat, but as we brace ourselves for the flood of stories about Bruno's stunning indictment of homophobia and that sort of thing, I have to say I don't buy any social angle.

In the Sasha Baron Cohen movies, I think the common thread is extremism -- he poses as a horrible, outrageous version of some kind of stereotype and then hammers away at regular people until he gets an awkward reaction. I even read an interview with his collaborator, Dan Mazer (in Mike Sacks' excellent book "And Here's the Kicker") where Mazer admits that they would just walk out on any segment where the interview subjects weren't having hostile enough of a reaction. Editing then makes everyone seem worse.

It can be funny, but is it really social commentary? Yeah, there are intolerant people, but there's a difference between being uncomfortable with an unfamiliar subculture and being goaded into an embarrassing display by a team of people who are actively trying to be horrific stereotypes.

Tags: podcast, movies

New Versions of Movies, If Characters Heeded Things Yelled at the Screen at Theaters I Frequent

Drag Me to Hell. After a violent encounter with a gypsy woman she had denied a loan extension, attractive loan officer Chris notices the gypsy's car in the parking garage as she heads for home that evening. She then GETS A DAMN SECURITY GUARD to walk her to her car. When the gypsy woman attacks, the guard easily puts her in a choke hold. Now able to focus on her work, the loan officer is promoted to assistant bank manager and spends the next 70 minutes approving small business loans -- a hell she has shockingly dragged herself to.

The Hangover. Poised to do a shot of Jaegermeister on the roof of Caesar's Palace, the four friends suddenly realize, THAT'S A BAD IDEA. Understanding that debauchery never should have been planned the same week of the wedding, they experience only the hangover of buyer's remorse after paying $60 to see Louie Anderson at Excalibur.

The Exorcist. Father Merrin prepares to drive the devil from Regan MacNeil, thereby saving her innocent soul from eternal damnation. But on seeing her grisly visage, he DOESN'T GO NEAR THAT CRAZY BITCH. Though Regan dies, Father Merrin stays on at Georgetown and finds redemption as a booster for the basketball team, even dressing on occasion in the bulldog mascot costume, with his career ending triumphantly in 1984 in a passionate embrace with Patrick Ewing following the title game. But the demons live on, haunting Ewing throughout his NBA career.

Jaws. Chrissy Watkins, sensing danger, GETS THE **** OUT OF THE WATER. Naked and exhilirated by her brush with death, she opts to explore her burgeoning sexuality with numerous partners of both genders that summer, only to succumb to the ravages of gonorrhea, a shame which will haunt her more than any shark ever could.

Raiders of the Lost Ark. Contemplating the entrance to the Well of Souls, Indiana Jones listens to the voice in his head: DON'T GO DOWN THERE WITH THOSE SNAKES! Forfeiting the Ark to the Nazis, Jones passes the time in the canteens of Cairo as Hitler overruns Europe by harnessing the awesome power of YHWH.

Casablanca. At the airport, Rick is overwhelmed at thought of losing Ilsa and instead decides to HIT THAT as a distraught Laszlo looks on helplessly. Though Major Strasser arrives moments later, Rick JACKIE CHANS HIS ASS. The personal victory for Rick is offset by the terrible blow to the resistance, as an emotionally crippled and no longer inspirational Laszlo turns to drinking. Louie is executed days later by the Germans, and Hitler overruns Europe in montage to "As Time Goes By."

Doubt. Called to Father Flynn's office, the meek Donald Miller yells OH HELL NO! and spends the rest of the day hanging around a pool hall. He is expelled, leading the audience to doubt only why exactly everyone in this movie got an Oscar nomination.

Synecdoche, New York. Caden Cotard, searching for a way to cheat death, instead says WHAT THE HELL IS THIS CRAP, THIS SUCKS, and kills himself. To fill out the remaining 87 minutes needed to make feature length, Hitler overruns Europe by harnessing the awesome power of YHWH to "As Time Goes By."

Tags: movies

Black Tie

Thanks to my excellent choice in women, on Friday I was able to attend the 65th annual Radio and Television Correspondents Dinner at the Washington Convention Center. For people who don't watch a lot of C-SPAN (i.e. losers), that's the second of the two big dinners for reporters each year where the president is invited, and then some kind of speaker tries to avoid career suicide while making fun of the president. General thoughts:

Black tie. I had to rent a tux for the night. I looked very good. This is less a function of me than the tux. If you are a man who looks bad in a tuxedo (and they're out there) then there's basically no hope for you, because tuxedos are the last line of fashion defense. At that point, you've stabbed the vampire of ugliness through the heart with a railroad tie, and he treated it like a splinter. Just plan on some kind of lifestyle that never, ever involves formal wear, like being a bachelor turnip farmer or a hermit. Also interesting was how many of the ladies interpreted black tie. A lot of them looked stunning and sophisticated; others were dressed like they were about to give it up on prom night, at a special seperate prom exclusively for the slutty girls. CLEAVAGE. In ridiculously bright fabrics.

Celebrities! When I say "celebrities," I mean the best kind: WASHINGTON celebrities. For example, when I walked into the pre-dinner cocktail hour, the first person I spotted was House Appropriations Chairman David Obey of Wisconsin. He's one of the most powerful and important people in Congress. But I did not say hello, because I was not confident enough that it was him. In Washington, the most important people are all middle-aged to old, and they aren't on TV all that much, so you wouldn't know them if you saw them. Ditto for Louise Slaughter, chairwoman of the House Rules committee, who was standing in the middle of the room for a bit with no one talking to her. Not that she needs it, because she's LOUISE SLAUGHTER. The highlight of the cocktail hour, for me, was watching a young woman in a backless dress ask Obey to take a picture of her and her friend. You know, if you aren't too busy thinking about how to allocate all the spending of the federal government, could you take a picture of me and my friend? Awesome.

Obama! We were supposed to shake the president's hand at the cocktail hour, but he changed his plans at the last minute and only showed up for the first part of the dinner. The impression I got, shared by my lovely meal ticket, was that he did not want to be at the dinner at all, and did not do a good job hiding it. A lot of the jokes in his speech (which he did deliver very well; he has excellent timing) were about how the dinner was a second-rate event (behind the White House Correspondents Dinner a few weeks before) and it was a chore to attend. He left as soon as Johnathan Hodgman finished calling him a nerd. I don't begrudge a guy his Friday nights, but when you have a reputation for arrogance, you might not want to dump on all the reporters and support staff who have to cover you every day. All that said, we had ridiculous seats. I was about 40-50 feet from the podium and dead center, and it is cool to see the leader of the free world from that close. You should try in sometime, you know, if you can get your girlfriend to hook you up with free tickets.

Hodgman. You can go online and see Jonathan Hodgman's speech. I liked it -- it wasn't really a stand-up routine, but a thematically consistent presentation. He didn't play for big laughs at the beginning, which confused a lot of the room, but by the end he used some slides to quiz Obama on whether he was a legit nerd. Events like this are REALLY tough for entertainers, because a) you're poking fun at the president; b) the audience, ostensibly of open-minded journalists, is a lot more PC than they would ever care to admit; c) you have to follow the president. It's almost impossible to knock it out of the park. Hodgman was solid if not spectacular.

After Party. After the show, there's the after party! In this case, we just walked into a room with a live band and started dancing. It was like a weird wedding. At one point Michael Steele, the head of the Republican Party, came to the stage to announce a raffle winner. Glad to see we're making progress, GOP. I don't want to brag, but as we were leaving, another couple, UNSOLICITED, told us we were the best dancers out there, "not that there was much competition." I'll take it.

Golfstravaganza

It is my great blessing in life to be a visionary, and my great burden to envision only pointless things. On Saturday my vision of the Grand Slam of Mini Golf came true!

Sort of. The orignial plan, which came to me in a vision quest, was to play four separate miniature golf courses in one day, with the winner declared the greatest mini-golfer who ever lived ever. It was called to my attention that this, though ambitious, would eliminate any sane people from participating, because who goes mini-golfing four times in a day? The new plan: three courses. One in Maryland, one in Virginia, one in D.C. A date was set, courses were picked and people were invited.

Naturally, Saturday started off with severe thunderstorms. But did anyone quit? NO! Because they wanted a taste of the glory. I called ahead to Rocky Gorge mini-golf in Laurel, and they said that as long as there wasn't lightning, people could golf. We got there at 11:30, 13 people stood in the clubhouse and the man behind the counter assured us the storm would move through soon. It did, and so we went to pay, and the man behind the counter promptly informed us there was no way we could play golf. Because the course was flooded. Apparently he thought we were standing around next to the Cruisin' Exotica machines for 20 minutes for the ambiance. And so we trudged to the parking lot (over top of the words painted on the walkway, "Open All Weather, Rain or Snow").

But thanks to the miracle of Internet phones, we found a second course in Laurel and actually managed to get there and squeeze in a round of disturbingly humid golf, as the sun came out and blue skies appeared. Great battles were fought and unspeakable acts of bravery and machismo were committed, etc. etc. But as we were now about an hour behind schedule, we switched plans again and headed down to D.C., skipping the Virginia course, to play the East Potomac mini-golf, one of the oldest in the nation. And when we got there, the gate was chained shut.

Checking in with the pro shop (the mini-golf course it right next to a real golf course), it turns out they sent their mini-golf employee home at 1 p.m. because of the rain. Never mind that it was now 3 p.m., with blue skies and sun, and only a few small puddles on the course. Never mind that, as we tried to convince them to reopen, about five or six cars of dads pulled up with their kids, looked at the locked gate, and then drove away. No, closed means closed.

So it was back to the cars, and off to Cameron Run regional park in Virginia. It was not on the original itinerary, but it was close and, according to the people answering the phone, open. Great battles, mighty putts, etc. etc., but by now it was 5 p.m. and everybody was very hungry, so we bagged any thought of a third course and headed back to the 19th hole (my house) for a cookout. And then I almost killed everyone with undercooked chicken, but that's a story for another day.

To sum up: the plan went from four courses to three courses, and then we ended up playing two courses, neither of which was a course we had originally planned to play. I have to say that I have some excellent friends to stick with it through all those obstacles. Thanks, guys! And sorry about almost poisoning you all.

Pictures: The guy in the coveted plaid jacket (awarded to all winners of this tournament) is Josh. He's also sporting a bacon wallet, yet another prize of this amazing event. The guy with the two broken hands is Doug, who proved that personal stupidity is no barrier to mini golf. The guy with the sweater is Philip, who is Philip.

Tags: politics, golf

Trivia Recap

Good times in the DC Improv Lounge last night! The house was packed for HHT, with 70 people crammed in to compete for 90 minutes. We had 90 reservations, but our brilliant answer girl / organizer Allyson was spot on figuring out that the attrition rate is about 30 percent. Basically, if you don't charge for an event, people think it's OK to make a reservation and then not show up. So you go from "me and my 13 friends will be there" to "me and one person I met on the steps are here." That's preferable to the table of 9 where no one shows up, though. Who am I kidding, I love you all.

But this had to be, unintentionally, the toughest trivia night yet. Maybe TOO tough, so I promise to dumb it down a shade next time out. Round one was a "Pop Quiz" -- questions about soda or anything that popped. The "Capital Idea" worksheet was feast or famine -- given a list of 30 cities, the teams had to circle the 10 national capitals. "Fantastic Fours 2" was our video round -- people had to identify the missing member of a famous foursome based on three visual clues. And "Summer Lovin'" was inspired by the start of the season.

The members of Sqizzle arrived breathless, three questions into the first round ... and they still managed to pull out the win with 24 out of 40. Ed McMahon's Final Words (here's second place) scored a 23. And the Turtle Necks got a 20 and won the dance-off tiebreaker for third. Here they are in order of finish!

And I'd be remiss if I didn't include this true competitor ...

She didn't win the dance-off for third place, but she opened up with the Kid n' Play. She got my vote, at least.

Next Trivia July 16

Mark it down!

Tags: trivia

Howdy, Ma'am

1) I called Orkin last week, in part to say hi, but mostly to set up an appointment to kill some of the other living things in my house. The guy on the phone called me ma'am, so I corrected him. When my roommate called later in the week to follow up, they had it on record that "some woman" had called earlier in the week.

2) I made a hotel reservation for the Jersey shore and left a credit card number with the gentleman at the hotel. When the card was declined (I had forgotten to activate the new card), he left me a voice mail saying that "some woman" had called making a reservation with my card and asking if I even knew about this. The woman was, of course, me.

I'm 6'1" and a tick under 200 pounds, but fate has decided that I should sound like a woman on the phone. I am trying to figure out how to make this work for me, beyond calling lesbian chat lines. It's great when you want to stop a telemarketer cold, but even most of them are now immune. They apologize and keep on pitching. If you can think of a way for me to steal millions of dollars with this unusual gift, please e-mail me at chris@dcstandup.com. If it works I will cut you in for 40 percent.

Tags: me

Artomatic

On Saturday me and the GF hit up Artomatic for the second year in a row. It's a giant month-long showcase for D.C. artists, and for the second straight year it was in a partially completed office building -- so that's 9 floors of paintings, photographs and the occasional sculpture or installation piece. You know, for the discriminating buyers who wants something that appears to be a pile of scrap metal, to keep in their living rooms.

It's a lot to digest, and I think the one thing I've taken away (both years) is the difference between skill and creativity. There are a lot of very good photographers, for example, with very nice equipment, but when you slap up 40 portfolios, side by side, there are a surprising number of similarities -- there are only so many ways to frame a shot, so many techniques to use and so many ideas for subject matter. Turns out that taking pictures of your backpacking tour through Europe doesn't make you a stunning individual! Go figure. For all the photos that are very good, very few stick out as memorable.

We consider most people with any artistic bent to be "creative," even though the vast majority of creative endeavor is already railroaded into a pretty narrow channel. Everyone's working from the same playbook, so the end result might be very nice, but it's not exactly distinguished; it I guess that goes for comedy, and writing, and just about anything that involves creativity.

Still, a lot of cool stuff to see. If I recommend anything: don't realy what the artists post about themselves. Nothing worse than enjoying a painting, then reading what the artists' intent was, hating the artist for being a pompous d-bag and then by extension no longer liking the painting.

Book Review: John Adams

I've had "John Adams" for years. I got it as a gift from the father of an ex-girlfriend. I didn't really want it at the time, and I wasn't too fond of the dad, so I threw it on my shelf and forgot about it. But a few months ago, I was all done with Dwight Eisenhower and needed something to read ...

It's good. It doesn't really have any of the action or bombast of Washington biographies, or TR, or Eisenhower. Adams was a very impressive dude, but most of his accomplishments and conflicts were on paper. But there are, courtesy of John and Abigail, about 5,323,000 letters letting us know what they thought on just about every subject, so you can get a much more personal picture of they guy than most other heroes of the 18th century. I appreciated his thoughts on family and general human nature more than a simple blow-by-blow political account.

Two things stand out in my mind: one, how much of a jerk Jefferson seems to be. He certainly has some redeeming qualities, but he comes off as less of a noble-minded philosopher than an expedient snob. And a backstabber! He personally organized a lot of smear campaigns against the people who stood in his way.

Second: it's impossible to emphasize how vastly the world has sped up. When Adams goes to Europe for diplomatic service, he goes months without knowing his orders, or how the war is going, or what exactly he should be doing. When he sends letters to Abigail they take months to get back to the states and half of them never make it there. A lot of people traveling today talk to their spouses every night; the Adamses were apart for years with only highly unreliable mail service to tie them together. And travel -- there weren't any spontaneous januts to the country, or rushing home for funerals or anything like that. It took two weeks to get from Boston to Philadelphia, a trip you can now do in a morning.

Faster in most cases means better, but it's interesting to think about how that ease of access and communication has changed the way relationships themselves develop. We're probably less thoughtful about what we're doing, the things we talk about and who we're talking too ... it's easier to spread yourself thin, and when you consider that the number of mental distractions (TV) has increased by about a billion ... SIMPLIFY! SIMPLIFY!

Tags: art, presidents