Before I watched Layer Cake, I did not know who Matthew Vaughn was. Nor did I know who Daniel Craig was. I surely know now.
Vaughn has gone on to bigger and better director-y things such as the underrated Stardust, Kick-Ass, X-Men: First Class and the upcoming Kingsman: The Secret Service.
Daniel Craig has since been in many a small film, but also he has had his testicles tortured as 007, James Bond.
But Layer Cake is what I want to babble about today. It is intricate, economical, and clever. It is smart, ambitious, and elegant. To call it a crime film does it a disservice. To call it one of my favorite films would be much more correct. Go watch it. Now.
Also, do not be surprised when Albus Dumbledeux says the F-word.
My last post was on my birthday, July 30th. Forty-four this year.
Anyway, I decided to take a few days off of work, and to take a few days off of writing. This is the busy time of year where I work, and I was starting to feel kinda frayed. So, a tiny vacation.
Rest assured, dear reader, I will be back here tomorrow to resume my bloggy ways. Lots of good things in the coming weeks. I'm excited for some of the things I'm going to be writing about.
He liked other sports too. He liked watching basketball and golf and boxing and horse racing but the sport I remember watching the most with him was football.
On Sunday we would come home from church and while Mom toiled in the kitchen to concoct the All American Sunday Dinner, the old man would sit in his chair and turn the TV to whichever seasonal sport was on. I remember loving football the most because it was on during the fall and into the winter and I could postpone whatever school work I had to do because the old man would let me watch football with him.
As I became an adult and I got my own place and I could watch whatever I want whenever I want, I still watched a lot of football. The last few years I haven't watched as much because I work on Sundays, but I still watched Sunday Night Football, Monday Night Football, and Thursday Night Football. During each football season I usually belonged to two different fantasy football leagues and I spent an inordinate amount of time watching game highlights, reading team newspaper reports and sports blogs so that I could use the gathered information to compete in my leagues. I always knew there were better and more productive ways to spend my time, but hey, whatever man.
I always dug the beautiful symmetry of a perfectly executed run play; the offensive linemen blocking and the running back dancing through the labyrinth of carnage. I loved watching a speedy wide receiver crossing up his defender and catching a brilliantly thrown pass.
But what really got my attention was the defensive hits. For years the NFL ran a show called Jacked Up wherein they showed play after play of guys getting their bells rung by other guys and I only ever felt bad about it when the guy who got nailed had to be removed on a stretcher.
But then players I enjoyed watching started missing games and even seasons and even retiring because of concussion related damage. Merrill Hoge, Troy Aikman, and Steve Young among others. I, belatedly, began to pay attention to the fallout of all the headshots these guys took.
Then guys started dying.
But first they'd suffer dementia, depression and various other malladies. So the NFL, in their wisdom, convened a group to study the effects of head trauma. They appointed a *ahem* rheumatologist to be their head trauma point man. Then he, and the NFL, denied for years that repetetive head trauma, you know, like the ones routinely suffered by their players, was the cause of any problems.
If you've got the time, I'd highly recommend this documentary about how all this stuff came to light.
Let's shift gears here for a minute.
The NFL franchise in Washington D.C. is named the Redskins. Being a white male, it was convenient for me to ignore the offensiveness of this team name. The NFL and the Washington franchise owner cried aloud that the name was meant to honor Native Americans and that they were proud to do so and that the public should just relax. So I did.
And then I saw this:
So pretty much the name change was to avoid confusion so that the team could make more money, and had nothing to do with honoring Native Americans. Ugh.
And now I think the NFL and Daniel Snyder, the owner of the Washington franchise are awful. They are full of lies. They, like other corporations, only want my money. They will lie, prevaricate, deceive, and con anyone in their path to keep making their money.
And, I'm ashamed to say, I was still planning on watching football and participating in fantasy football this year. I was just going to swallow a jarful of purposeful amnesia so I could continue to enjoy this game that I have always loved.
But now, I can't. Here, lemme splain.
If an NFL player gets busted for smoking marijuana, that player gets automatically supsended four games for a first offense and more games for further violations of the drug policy. Hang on to this nugget of info, we'll get back to it later.
A few months ago, Ray Rice, a running back for the Baltimore Ravens was in Las Vegas with his fiancee, Janay Palmer. In an elevator, they fought, and Rice apparently knocked her out cold. There's video of him dragging her limp form out of the elevator.
And now the NFL has reviewed all of the facts, and they have suspended Rice for two games.
Got that? Smoke a joint, four or more games. Knock a woman out cold and drag her limp body around, two games.
And that was it. I decided that I would, as headline reads, vote with my feet. I will no longer give the NFL my time or my money. I will make every effort to display them as mysoginistic, racist, money grubbing assholes until either I die, or they are able to treat their players and fans as human beings with all of the respect that they deserve.
Postscript: Two days ago, Ray Rice reported to off season workouts for the Ravens. He received a standing ovation from fans. I'm confident now that I've made the right choice.
Loved the original Mad Max, loved The Road Warrior, and I am desperately trying to forget Beyond Thunderdome.
I like Tom Hardy, I *digs toe into ground* think Charlize Theron is purdy. And a hell of an actress. The practical stunts in this trailer are hair raising. This really looks awesome. I can't wait.
Played the Destiny beta today on the ol' PS3. It's pretty cool. Am looking forward to playing the real game in September.
In the meantime, I'm also looking forward to the expanded fancy schmancy version of Diablo III that comes out in August.
Also Sacred 3 comes out in August as well, in case any of you were worrying about me getting my mindless video game fix.
I signed up for the Kindle Unlimited program today. Agh, my attention span! I already downloaded about eleventy bazillion books. It's like going to the library but I don't have to put on pants. Awesome!
Next week Blightborn comes out. It's part two in the Heartland Trilogy by Chuck Wendig. Part one is Under the Empyrean Sky and I dug it. Am excited for more.
I love the understated characters, the complex heist/double cross, and the awesome cast. Robert De Niro. Stellan Skarsgaard. Natscha McElhone. Jean Reno. Jonathan Price. Boromir. The guy who played Hugo Drax, and featuring That Dude.
Come for the cast, stay for the best car chase scenes this side of a Bourne movie.
One of my favorite songs being flat out nailed by what appear to be middle schoolers. At that age I was still playing with my own poop. I especially like the tiny lad that appears at about :45 in doing the percussion with the wooden blocks.
I wonder if anybody has taken the time to instruct the children on the Jungian slant of the song lyrics. "Hey Duplo shorty! Dig the existential bent of your subconcious as you're backing up the dope rythm section!" Or something.
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