You're Not Druish, Are You?*

SO TODAY's lunch falls right in the middle of the pile-of-goo category: my mother-in-law's wonderful shepherd's pie, spiked with salt and pepper, augmented with a lattice of Plochman's yellow mustard, and capped with a bulkhead of cheese. The beers played a nice counter-balance to the whole affair, bringing out both the sweetness of the corn and the the bite of the mustard and black pepper.

It kind of made up for the cheeseburger I didn't have yesterday. The Local had pulled pork barbeque on the special. It was good.


I SO WISH this was the movie of the day. The big news today is that this has been released on Blue Ray. Now, I have not seen Blue Ray yet, so I cannot vouch for the boost in quality, but I am assuming that it is comparable to HD, in which case, watching The Towering Inferno in Blue Ray would be just fetching. Stunning. Basically, it would amp up the impact of watching the fakest fake fiery fire to a whole new level! And you could actually SMELL the flop sweat pouring off off Steve McQueen and Paul Newman's faces by the gallon! And you could watch Robert Wagner die in stunning detail! Seriously, folks, I have sat through this thing twice, once out of stunned disbelief and once out of pure, unadulterated nostalgia, but I imagine sitting though it once more, in ultra-vision, would be like a chance to see what losing your mind feels like, whilst being assured of returning to sanity after a reasonable sojourn.

This is also not the film of the day. Probably never will be.

On the one hand, I still can't decide whether Tarantine is a quirky prankster with a heart of gold or a privledged twerp who can't tell his head from the hole in his ass. On the other hand, now that this is on the cusp of delivery, and the cast is traipsing around doing the press junket thing, and they mostly seem to be touting what a weird moral-ethical dillema the whole thing presented, in that they portray gleefull killers, but on the other hand they're killing Nazis, but on the third hand they're being taught to operate their weapons by modern-day, clean-handed Germans who wouldn't harm a flea, and on the fourth mutant appendage, Tarantine took great pains not to tell them what they would be facing the next day, kept bits of the back story secret until the last second, and, apparently, kept fucking up those last two "tactical" bits by getting drunk and blurting out the secret the night before he meant to spring it on his loyal crew of thespian guinea pigs.

Here's the problem: I am wary, scared, terrified really, that this whole thing will emerge from the editing suite Tarantine-slick and Tarantine-sugary. A veritable Chris Farley Show of a parody of World War Two. ("Remember when we killed all those Nazis? That was AWESOME!")

Excuse me, but I don't want to play that fucking game. Remember the Nuremburg trials? Remember how much fun we had there?

That was AWESOME.

*The title here was going to be the penultimate punchline from Monty Python's Flying Circus' Mr. Neutron episode, but I was a little trepidatious that someone might read my blog. Could have lead to severe repurcussions, and easily offended anyone who might be way overly sensitive and obnoxiously knee-jerk reactive. Instead I settled for a three level pop reference gag that no one will ever understand. Clever of me, no?