Komisarek vs. Lucic, part II

Beginning Thursday night, for the 32nd time in their history, the Montreal Canadiens and Boston Bruins will face each other in the Stanley Cup playoffs. This is as storied a rivalry as exists in sports — TSN recently listed some of the more memorable meetings over the past forty years — and I’m more than a little bit excited about it.

That said, I give Montreal almost no chance to win. Boston finished first in the east, miles ahead of the Canadiens. The Habs sucked after the all-star break, and seemed to turn it around before struggling down the stretch when the Leafs cheap-shotted their leading scorer and best defenseman Andrei Markov, knocking him out of the lineup. The Bruins owned the Canadiens this year.

But…when these two teams meet, it can always get crazy. Last year the roles were reversed — Montreal #1, Boston #8 — and it took Montreal all seven games to finish them off. Their final regular season game, last Thursday, was a classic and went to overtime before Boston won. In the past few years Montreal beat Boston as both an 8 seed (2002) and a 7 seed (2004). So I think the odds are against them, but if Alex Kovalev and Carey Price can turn it on, Montreal could pull off the shocker.

Final note, courtesy of Joe: the Bruins have some awesome tv ads:

"Death is the road to awe."

Over the last few days, in between spring cleaning and sucking back Cadbury easter eggs, I’ve watched a few movies in an attempt to rescue our PVR from the crushing weight of so many hours recorded:

The Last Winter (imdb | rotten tomatoes) started off reasonably well by building tension in a remote Alaskan oil field, but to borrow a phrase from Western Canadian hockey fans: holy man did it ever die. It took a nose dive of truly epic proportion right around the time that [spoiler alert, but it’s so ridiculous that you wouldn’t believe me anyway] the giant ghost moose showed up. Yeah, you read that right. I guess it might’ve been an elk or caribou, but it was definitely some kind of giant green ghostly quadriped with antlers. I think they tried to pass it off as Windigo, but…yeesh. Not even Connie Britton in her underwear could salvage this. I am stunned that it scored 79% on Rotten Tomatoes.

Similar pattern for Hancock (imdb | rotten tomatoes) which started off funny and kind of interesting, then got dumb, then got cheesy. Will Smith had lots of good lines at the beginning but then…droop mope yawn boring.

Fortunately The Fountain (imdb | rotten tomatoes) didn’t follow the same pattern as the other two films. Actually, it didn’t follow any pattern. I’m still processing it, to be honest, and I think it’ll take me a few days to figure out whether or not I liked it. It certainly felt like an accomplishment, to weave those three stories together so tightly…I just struggle with whether the stories were good. Whether they should have been woven together. I also struggle with how Hugh Jackman seems to constantly act as if he’s on a broadway stage, in that over-enunciating, shouting for the back of the house, bare your teeth kind of way. Anyway, that’s a different topic. I guess the fact that it’s stuck with me for several hours says something. Those other two films faded like like a fart in the mist.

Good timing, Black Angels

Because I’ve had so little time to peruse new music (pro tip: say the phrase “peruse new music” out loud…it has a certain quality) my IN tray is filling up. Here’s what I should be getting to but amn’t:

  • asobi seksu . hush
  • bishop allen . grrr
  • black angels . passover
  • bob mould . life and times
  • elliot brood . ambassador
  • fanfarlo . fanfarlo
  • gaslight anthem . the ’59 sound
  • great lake swimmers . lost channels
  • mirah . (a)spera
  • thermals . now we can see
  • tindersticks . waiting for the moon
  • william elliott whitmore . animals in the dark

Anything there I should skip? Anything that should jump to the top of the list?

Help me I am in hell

Dear Rogers & Bell: collectively, I wonder if you would be so kind as to please eat a dick.

Here is what I’ve had to deal with today, in ascending order of shittiness:

  • your websites: impenetrable, convoluted, error-ridden and (in Rogers’ case) excruciatingly slow
  • your customer service: uninformed, ill-equipped and speaking into what I can only assume were tin cans tied to strings, based on the sound quality of the call
  • your hold music: Michael Bolton? Really?

In closing, fuck all y’all. Happy Easter.

Garbage in, garbage ou…uh, actually, I guess in this case garbage stays.

Not long ago, on the way home from work my Zen randomly played “Eat Junk Become Junk” by Six By Seven. While I listened I studied the subway ad in front of me. It was an ad for an MTV reality show. I couldn’t help but make the connection.

“Eat junk become junk” is just another way of saying “you are what you eat”, something we’ve all heard since we were kids. No one really doubts that the badness of what we eat affects our overall health. It’s not the sole determining factor, obviously, but it does matter. Doctors, medical studies, common sense…they all tell us so.

So why doesn’t the adage apply to music? Why not books? Why not movies or television? Aren’t the worst of these just empty calories, the Twinkies and triple-bacon cheeseburgers of culture? Aren’t people just jamming the same crap into a different orifice? I would think we would consider these toxic materials as harmful to the mind as we consider toxic food harmful to the body.

And yet, we hear people describe the benefit of vanilla TV (Two and a Half Men, anyone?) being that they don’t have to think, they can just have a laugh. They describe “beach books” the same way…something you just read but don’t have to think about. Worse yet, “reality tv” deliberately misleads viewers, making them think these shows are actually happening unscripted, trying to warp the viewer’s idea of reality rather than try to find entertaining reality to film. Music so banal and oversampled there’s no shred of musical innovation or feeling left at the heart of it. Movies slapped together to lampoon scene after 30-second scene of fleeting pop-cultural references funny mainly, and especially, to those whose news-gathering begins and ends with TMZ. At best these are vapid space-fillers; at worst, mind-numbing distortions. Alone they do not make you stupid. But they certainly lean that way.

Let me preempt the usual cry: that I’m arguing against fun. That’s a weak case, unless you would suggest “fun” can only equal “stupid”. Millions of things are fun, and funny without being weakly, patronizingly so.

Let’s maybe try showing this graphically. FlowingData recently posted a chart titled “Music that makes you dumb” courtesy of a CalTech grad student. It doesn’t show that listening to crap music makes you dumber. It just shows that people who listen to music like Lil’ Wayne, Carrie Underwood and Taking Back Sunday do worse on their SATs than those who listen to stuff like Radiohead, Bob Dylan and Beethoven.

Look, I’m not saying people should stop watching American Idol or listening to Nickelback any more than I’m saying they should avoid eating at Carl’s Jr. three times a day. I’m just saying that everyone knows they shouldn’t eat at Carl’s Jr. three times a day. For some reason they just haven’t figured out that it’s harmful to put other kinds of junk in their bodies too.

"Then Serenity Ends."

According to the Onion AV Club, NBC has moved Kings to the dreaded Saturday night time slot. While timeslots matter less than they used to in the Tivo era, I would have to think this signals the end of the series. At least the rest of the season will air, or so says TOAVC.

I didn’t think Kings was a great show, but I think it had great ingredients (Ian McShane foremost among them, but also the politics, Brian Cox in a secret trapdoor room, the sheer awesomeness of Dylan Baker and Eamonn Walker, and the Shakesperean comic relief duo) and it was certainly better than most network TV shows.

Too bad, though, I enjoyed having Swearengen-lite on TV. Somebody needs to get McShane in a room with David Mamet. I don’t care if it’s about copper mining or oral hygiene, just make it happen.

That apt description

Ever since it last October we’ve enjoyed the restaurant at the corner of Front & Jarvis called That Corner Spot. After our first visit I blogged about the good beer (all local: Amsterdam & Mill Street), good food (good breakfast, excellent veggie burger), good produce (all procured from St. Lawrence Market across the screet) and good music. In the last month or so, though, it’s really taken a turn. Granted, it’s probably a turn for the more profitable — there are far more people in there now than before — but it’s also a turn for the generic. Gone is the small, local-focused menu; there’s now page after page of food available. The local beers, though still available, are now relegated to a small, mis-printed subsection of the menu. The simple tables, arty decor and interesting music have been replaced with generic tablecloths, Audrey Hepburn prints and light jazz. It hasn’t become a bad place; it’s just become every other place and lost what made it interesting. Like I said, it probably means they’ll survive a little longer, but I won’t be going back.

I always thought the generic name seemed out of place for a cool spot like that. Now I guess it fits perfectly.