Any Given Manning

I confess to being a complete novice when it comes to football watching, but I enjoy a good Super Bowl. And when it comes to the "who’s the greatest current quarterback" question, I can’t form an educated opinion-although I think it’s still Brady-but I watch Saturday Night Live, and I can name the funniest quarterback, so I’ll be a Peyton Manning fan. Or any given Manning. On top of that, I’ve lived my whole life rooting for the underdog (usually), so I can’t not cheer against the team that does not have the perfect record to upset the team that does in the most important game of the year. Friday Night Lights taught me that this was possible.
Super Bowl was the second football game I watched all year. The first was the last regular season Pats game which, obviously, they won against, hey!, the Giants and I told a friend that they just clinched not winning the Super Bowl because everybody has to lose some time.
So Super Bowl happened, probably the most boring version I’ve ever seen, with no touchdowns in the second or third quarter and things looking like they were heading toward the most predictable conclusion, though with a markedly lower score. And, then the last 2 minutes happened and Manning who had not being throwing great, pulled out some tidy moves, serving up a game-winning touchdown with 35 seconds left. When a game ends as well as that, everybody wins. New York just won it more.
Manning and the Giants had the fortune of playing against an uncharacteristically clumsy Patriots squad, who were playing like they had no fear of the underdog. That’s why they did not survive.
Oh, and Tom Petty rocked the joint and that Justin Pepsi ad was cool. End blog.

Get LOST

LOST returns to the airwaves Thursday. This would excite me anyday, but it’s particularly exciting due to the writer’s strike keeping my TV almost entirely off for the last few months. In honor of something to look forward to, here are 5 reasons it remains strangely, often infuriatingly, the most exciting show not on HBO.
5) Anyone can die at any time. Charlie was the last one to bite it and, OK, that was a long time coming, what with Desmond the psychic telling him he was going to die weeks before. The same season, though, also brought the shocking and, OK, somewhat unsatisfying death of Mr. Eko from aggressive smoke. Unlike most other shows, when the characters are in danger, they are actually in danger, meaning that when it sounded like Jin, Bernard and Sayid had been shot in the finale, so long ago, it was completely feasible that they would actually be dead.
4) The separation of exposition and plot. The basic setup of the show, one character’s flashback intercut between plot momentum (if that’s the right word), creates additional dimensions for each character without getting in the way of the action. A minor character like Rose is rarely on the show, but the viewer knows her well due to her flashback episode, which also pushed the “healing powers of the island” story forward.
3) Moral ambiguity. Two great characters, John Locke and Juliet, regularly straddle the line between good intentions and bad. Lovable Locke murdered Naomi, for crying out loud! The woman who fell out of the sky to save them! Jack and Kate regularly make bad, selfish decisions. Michael pushed the idea of doing anything to reunite with his son in scary, murderous directions.
2) The writers may have no idea what they’re doing (although they claim to.) This weird, chaotic aspect is a big part of what lends the show it’s messy charm. As on The Sopranos before it, plot questions can come up never to be talked about again. If I never find out what’s up with Jacob, I’ll always remember that bizarre haunted shack. LOST is something to watch and absorb, like Gilligan’s Mulholland Dr. Something cool will happen and you probably shouldn’t think too hard about it. (Even if tons do.)
1) Talking about LOST makes you say the strangest things. A pre-return, finale rescreening party included “They need to go underwater to unjam the signal so they can use the phone from the woman who fell from the sky. Remember?” and "She loves Jack but she had sex with Sawyer. When they were in that cage." and other such gems.

Whatever Happened to My Rock and Roll Oscars

Oscar nominations were announced recently and it looks like a pretty solid, deserving list. I'm particularly happy about Laura Linney in The Savages and Viggo Mortensen. And since when do movies like No Country for Old Men and There Will Be Blood become best picture favorites? It's nice to see the establishment embrace difficult, edgy fare. However, a scroll down toward the middle of the list erases my dream (if there is even a ceremony this year) of seeing Eddie Vedder and Jonny Greenwood at the Oscars.
There Will Be Blood is truly enhanced by its unpredictable, harsh/lovely Jonny Greenwood score which was, apparently, disqualified due to a rule about percentage of original music. This rule, however, was broken by last year's (deserving) winner, Babel. So, the enforcement of the rule seems to be an anti-rockist way to eliminate competition from a truly original score.
More glaring is no nomination for Eddie Vedder's songs in Into the Wild. "Guaranteed" and especially "Society" served the film well and would have been excellent, deserving choices in a category that has rewarded Springsteen and Dylan, but they were beat out by three songs from Enchanted. Apart from the song from Once, it's a pretty bland batch of songs from the group that recently awarded Eminem and Three 6 Mafia.

Not There

Another young actor died this week. Heath Ledger, unlike Brad Renfro, was building the foundation for an amazing career, already featuring two, soon three, iconic roles. As the details emerge both superficially important (accident or suicide? To which I would like to point out that nobody kills themself before a massage appointment) and just superficial (did Mary Kate Olsen own the apartment?), I would like to hold out hope that the family is surrounded by people who care, that Ledger is remembered more for his legacy than his passing and that this stops being the featured story on Access Hollywood by next week, since, even when dating movie stars, Ledger was never a tabloid figure. For two nice obits, I would direct you here (short, but embarrassingly well-written) or here (longer, touchingly complete.)

"He's beyond human, and stuff like that."

Brad Renfro died on Tuesday night. He was an actor and I’m not sure how famous he was for that. He was better known for his problems with drugs, the notoriety of which culminated in a widely seen photo from a Skid Row drug bust, in which he looks at least ten years older than his 23 years. I don’t want to comment on what the death of a young actor could possibly mean. It’s probably not much, and it’s not much more than the death of any other young man does. In the age of the Britney deathwatch, he could be a lesson for the Lohan and the Winehouse, but he probably won’t. According to his numerous online obits, he had a troubled childhood that included trashy, poisonous parents and who knows what was going on his head or how much his parents are to blame. I, personally, am weirdly taken by the death of any young actor, but he wasn't exactly James Dean.
But in the spirit of celebrating a life instead of dwelling over a bad ending, I would like to discuss the one perfect thing he got to be a part of, which is, ironically, Ghost World. He played the small part of Josh in a fun, real, touching 2001 movie. If you haven’t seen it, imagine Juno without the affected dialogue or Lost in Translation in the ‘burbs. Actually, if you haven’t seen it, just see it – you won’t regret it.
Ghost World doesn’t give much to Renfro. He’s plays the Jordan Catalano for the two main girls to flirt with and talk about. Renfro was a talented actor, though, and he gives the part perhaps more than it deserves. He makes his presence felt and you understand why Enid and Rebecca want to be around him when they hate nearly everyone else in their world. Renfro may not have let himself do much in his short life – or, just as likely, the vicious town of Hollywood was too much for his self-destructive soul – but he got to be a part of at least one great thing, and it’s a film that rewards repeat viewing and will probably touch you differently the older you get. As far as legacies, that ain’t nothing.

Don't Bring Me Downie

The Philadelphia Flyers are a team that, until recently, didn’t inspire much of anything in me. Before their terrible season last year, they were just the team that the Senators of Ottawa City, official team of IWBYB, had the best luck against in the playoffs, which was the thing I liked about them. This season, though, they are the pariah of the NHL, a Tasmanian devil on skates that you’re lucky to get out of a game against uninjured. Basically, they’re Slap Shot, but charmless.
Steve Downie epitomizes the new Flyers (same as the old Flyers.) This is his first season with these low Flyers and during the pre-season, he was suspended for 20 games for a dirty, feet-off-the-ice, hit from behind on Dean McAmmond. This kind of check is exactly what the new NHL is trying to eliminate, but this hit was uglier than it looked (and it ain't pretty) because it was in the PRE-SEASON, that is, during a game that didn’t matter, win or lose.
Recently, and soon enough after his return to the ice, he sucker-punched Jason Blake. This went unsuspended, and that’s fine-there’s nothing too wrong with a punch in the face. Except for the fact that Jason Blake was being restrained by a ref while it happened and that makes it terribly cheap. But, it earned no suspension and that’s fine. The Flyers should just sweep this under the rug and move on, right? Except, Senior VP Bob Clarke approves, in fact, he “loved it.” And, he says it’s “what every hockey player should do.” I could wonder if he somehow hasn’t seen the tape, but of course he has. It’s possible, I suppose, that the quotes are out of context, except that they aren’t. The Flyers organization really is the problem here. They really want their players out there, not just playing tough, but killing people! Even if it weren’t a post-Steve Moore environment, but especially because it is, this is gross.

Wooden Soulja, Wooden Sales

There’s something timeless about soulless music. The radio offers new music monthly that is too awful to even be real, until eventually you break down and accept it, before eventually getting sick and hating it more than you did in the first place. This process takes about 6 months, and then 5 years later you will be nostalgic for it, in a lived through it way. (Spice Girls are a good example; Fergie, a more recent one.)
Soulja Boy is the latest soulless wonder, and he’s almost broken me down with his “hit” “song,” Crank That. However, I just learned something interesting about Crank That, making me wonder about the future of soulless music. He has reached 3 million in ringtone sales (triple-platinum), but only gold album sales. Beyond offering the absurd news that a hundred thousand people own Soulja Boy’s souljaboytellem.com (an album title as lame and somehow brilliant as the track), this could prove the Arctic Monkeys’ line about music existing for the sake of ringtones likely prophetic. Commercial music could soon be nothing more than 15 second bits surrounded by nonsense. And that might as well have been the formula for Crank That. And that might make Soulja Boy a genius, or at least a pioneer. The line between art and commerce certainly becomes more obvious when it’s the difference between a full-length album and an incoming call warning.
Also,if you're interested, the most soulless thing ever, surely coming to a phone near you.

An Arm, A Nag, I Am

Anagram Mania
Hey readers, I just found a website capable of providing hours of fun! That’s right, the Internets is now a source of fun and not just learning! It’s AnagramGenius, and it provides fairly amazing anagrams about %30 of the time, which is pretty damn good, since anagrams ain’t easy, right?

Try these out:
Politics and world affairs:
Muddler of Lands (former US secretary)
Blush, War Geek Ogre! (US embarrassment)
Only I Can Thrill (potential future President)
A Damn Alien SOB (enemy of the state)
Amok Crab Arab (potential future President, and not a great anagram
Sports:
Key: Sneaky Owner (baseball team)
Fat, Lonesome Patrol (hockey team)
Humane as Dick (hockey team)
Is Stubborn, No? (hockey team)
Spinal Dislocation (football team)
Weak-Ass Athletes (football team)
Grrr! I’m Beaten (NHL goalie)
Hey! Neat Lady (Ottawa Senator)
I am the Aim (basketball team)
Tacky, Cruder (Maple leaf)