I’m not talking about stamina. I’m talking about dealing with mishaps along the way.
Suppose you’re running a marathon and you drop your keys. You don’t realize until your five miles away from where you dropped them.
Are you going to circle back and look for them or are you going to keep going?
You’ve got to keep going if you want to get across that finish line. Cross the line, then take a breath, get in the car and go back and look for them.
Same with writing. You think of something that would have been good after you write certain chapters.
Should you go back and change those chapters? Not necessarily. You could…but you might realize other changes need to be made down the line. You’ll be rewriting chapters forever.
So here’s my note.
I didn’t think at first how Natalie finds out that there are other “murders” with similar circumstances. I decided too late that she would be getting mysterious text messages. So, in the rewrite, I’ll have to add that earlier.
This note is more or less for me…though if you are one of the 3.5 people actually reading the chapters, there’s some info for you.
BQB here with a review of the eighth, count ’em, eighth installment of the Fast and the Furious franchise.
Holy crap. Eight films. That’s 4.5 more films than I have readers.
You’d think these things would be getting stale by now, but honestly, they’re just getting warmed up. Fast Five brought in the Rock to resurrect the franchise. Fast Six and Seven were good times but Fast Eight? Wow. Holy crap did they up their game.
Our tale begins with Dom (Vin Diesel) on a honeymoon with new wife Letty (Michelle Rodriguez) in Cuba. Evil cyber terrorist Cipher, played the ever boner inducing Charlize Theron, tracks Dom down with some kind of leverage that leaves Dom with no choice but to betray his beloved Fast and Furious team members and become Cipher’s evil errand boy.
What drama! Fan favorites Ludacris (Tej) and Tyrese (Roman) return. The Rock kicks ass as always. Jason Statham blows the doors off the whole shebang. Game of Thrones fans will be happy to see Nathalie Emmanuel aka Missandei return as computer hacker Ramsey, while Kristofer Hivju aka Tormund Giantsbane gets a role as a villain.
Longtime cast member, the late Paul Walker, is truly missed and one can only imagine the awesomeness he would have brought to the screen. His character, Brian, still exists in the film but obviously, only to be talked about by the team.
Kurt Russell returns as the mysterious, super classified government agent, Mr. Nobody only this time, he has a young protege, the still wet behind the ears rookie dubbed, “Little Nobody” played by Clint’s son, Scott Eastwood. The character is funny and suffers tremendously from the non-stop B.S. thrown at him by an unruly team he’s trying to control. There was a part of me that wondered if he was thrown into the mix to replace Paul Walker as the team’s boy scoutish, clean cut law enforcement member, but Eastwood does hold his own.
The stunts! The spectacles! We don’t go to see these movies for the plot. We go for the thrill ride. The film features some of the most visually stunning, badass, and yes, even smart action sequences in the franchise.
All that being said, the plot, while peppered with the occasional hole, is one of the better ones of the franchise, filled with all sorts of twists and turns. After all, Dom and his team go up against each other, so that’s bound to create some on-screen theatrics.
STATUS: Shelf-worthy. Fast Five was when the franchise really hit its stride and figured out its formula. Gratuitous scantily clad women, beautiful tropical locations, rap music, big guns, fast cars – all the stuff of the wet dream of any red blooded, heterosexual American male. Whenever I watch one of these films I feel my testosterone surge and I’m left with the need to hump something, anything! Woe unto the first leg I find! OK, maybe I don’t get that out of control, but it’s still super intense. You must see it on the big screen.
Has there ever been a franchise that’s still going this strong after eight films? Leave it in the comments if you can think of one. Until then, keep ’em coming, Fast and Furious crew. Keep ’em coming.
No, wait. Bring my 3.5 readers back. If they leave, then no one will read this terrible blog.
BQB here with a review of Exodus: Gods and Kings.
It’s Easter night and you know what that means. Eating copious amounts of candy and watching the story of Moses. For the longest time, you were able to watch The Ten Commandments with Charlton Heston or since 2014, you can watch the Christian Bale version, Exodus: Gods and Kings.
Yup, I’m a few years late in reviewing this film but hey, better late than never and I figure I might as well review it while I’m watching it.
This film is visually stunning. It’s a little surprising it didn’t get an Oscar love. I mean, I still can’t believe that pile of crap Birdman won an Oscar but this film didn’t get much recognition.
The interesting part of this film is that it is told to suit a modern audience.
Oh wait, you’re probably all heathens who don’t know any of this shit so let me give you the synopsis.
Baby Moses is floated down the river and honestly, I forget why. Maybe his parents were in trouble. Maybe someone was after Moses. Maybe his parents were crackheads. At any rate, when the little guy reaches shore, he’s found by the Egyptian royal family and adopted as the son of the Pharaoh.
Moses grows up and lives the life of a wealthy, arrogant Egyptian royal family member, looking down upon the poor and downtrodden, especially the Jews, who are whipped and beaten and used as slave labor to build the pyramids and shit.
Later, Moses learns that he is, in fact, Jewish, and suddenly he starts to feel bad about how the Jews are being treated. God speaks to him via a burning bush. The Pharaoh has died and Moses’ adopted brother, Ramses, becomes the Pharaoh.
The burning bush tells Moses to pass along a message to Ramses. Sorry if I botch the message, but its basically, “Let my people (the Jews) go, or shit’s about to go down.”
Ramses scoffs at this. He’s the mighty Pharaoh after all. So God follows through. Plagues, pestilence, frogs, locusts, all kinds of heinous shit happens to the Egyptians. Even their first born sons are all killed.
Tired of all the bullshit, Ramses lets the Jews go, then thinks better of it, and sends his Army to recapture them. Moses, now a mighty right hand of God, uses his power to part the Red Sea, allowing the Jews to escape to safety and then brings it down on the Egyptians, drowning them.
Boo-yah! Sorry, but someone needed to bring that Pharaoh down a peg.
Anyway, I apologize if I got that story wrong but that’s the gist that’s in my mind anyway.
The Charlton Heston version provides a fairly true to the bible version.
This new version, Exodus, keeps the modern, skeptical viewer in mind. There isn’t a whole lot of magic in the movie but rather, room to speculate and ponder.
For example, all the locusts and pestilence and kids dying could be God, or it could just all be the result of bizarre natural occurrences. The times were bad and people lived in lousy, unsanitary conditions, so its not that surprising that a lot of kids would die or that a bunch of bugs would show up.
Moses (Bale) tells Ramses that this is all legit, that all the bad shit that’s going down is because of God. Ramses accuses Moses of being a crazy charlatan, that he’s somehow bringing all the plagues and killing all the kids just so he can steal all his slaves.
As a viewer, you’re free to think either option.
Meanwhile, there’s no burning bush but rather, a boy who a) is definitely God who has taken the form of a boy to speak to Moses or b) a very religious boy who thinks he speaks for God or c) the result of some hallucination Moses is experiencing. Again, your choice.
Further, the Red Sea is parted. Moses might have done it…or it might have just been a giant tidal wave caused by super bad weather.
In other words, maybe Moses had powers and maybe he was God’s right hand man in freeing his people…or maybe Moses just lucked his way through a series of bizarre events and coincidences that made it look like he was working for God but in fact, just stumbled his way to glory.
I don’t know, man. I wasn’t there. All in all, it’s an interesting retelling and preserves the story for a new generation.
The summary: A U.S. Navy seal is in hot water for “acting” in pornographic movies.
Should he be in trouble over this?
Let’s discuss.
In theory, there’s a part of me that wants to congratulate any dude who can turn getting it on with hot chicks into a paying job.
Also, Navy Seals are trained to be in peak physical condition. They get dropped into the worst places on earth and are expected to pull off nearly impossible missions.
With all that, the dudes deserve some boo-tay. Frankly, being able to pick up hot chicks with tales of daring do is like one of the top reasons to even become a Navy Seal in the first place.
Alternatively, he does work in a very important position. I can’t say this for sure but I mean, if Navy seals have to do all kinds of highly classified, top secret work, then appearing in any kind of movies, porno or otherwise, doesn’t seem like a good idea.
I mean, let’s face it. Super buff and studly Army men bang hot chicks. That’s why you become a super buff and studly Army dude. Army uniforms are like catnip for hot chicks.
But bang the hot chicks off camera where there is plausible deniability and you can still hold yourself out as a person of great moral character when the chips are down.
At any rate, I don’t want to criticize the guy because hell, it’s not like I ever trained myself to become a one man war machine capable of dropping twenty bad guys with my pinky finger. What he did is highly inadvisable, but if there’s a way to let him off with a slap on the wrist that would be OK with this nerd.
It’s a disturbing trend, 3.5 readers. A disturbing trend indeed.
This weekend I saw three elderly hipsters.
Two were a couple. She had this wacky poofy hair style even though half her hair was gone.
He had a leather jacket and a trilby. I mean, WTF? If you’re old then you can wear a fedora because you can be all like, “I was wearing this since it was in style.”
But a trilby? Yeesh. Old ass hipster.
Then I saw an old woman wearing “Juicy Couture” pants. Ugh. I mean yeah it’s juicy I suppose but at that age that’s not the kind of juice I want in my glass.
It’s starting. The aging of people who grew up with hipsterism. They will retain their hipster ways forever.
Natalie reached into bra and pulled out two giant ripe cantaloupes.
“There wasn’t a smaller fruit available?” Natalie asked.
“Hey,” Walt answered as he loaded his equipment into the back of the news van. “You know what they say in this game. ‘Go big or go home.’”
Natalie sighed as she removed her fake blonde wig. “Somehow I doubt Walter Cronkite was forced to shove a kielbasa down his pants.”
“Eh,” Walt said. “It’s all up to you, kid. Call them a bunch of sexist pigs and sue them. Stuff melons down your shirt just to get some airtime. Either way, no one could blame you.”
Natalie was putting her bra stuffers in the back of the van when her phone beeped. An incoming text message. “ANOTHER ONE AT SITWELL COMMUNITY COLLEGE.”
“Oh my God,” Natalie said as she showed her phone to Walt. “This is massive.”
“Let’s roll,” Walt replied.
Walt hopped into the driver’s seat. Natalie got into the passenger’s side. The cameraman drove through downtown Boca Raton, on his way to the highway.
“Three murders in one night,” Natalie said as she played with her phone. “In different parts of the state. Have you ever seen anything like this?”
“Not at all,” Walt said. “Who do you suppose is giving you these tips?” Walt asked.
“No idea,” Natalie said. “I looked up the number. Couldn’t find a source.”
“Weird,” Walt said.
“Whoever it is, they’re making my career,” Natalie said.
Walt grumbled under his breath. “Ergh.”
“What?” Natalie asked.
“I hate to look a gift horse in the mouth,” Walt said. “But you should look this gift horse in the mouth. Check its teeth, its gums, everything.”
“You think I should just ignore tips on a story this big?” Natalie said.
“No,” Walt replied. “Not at all. Just know that nothing in life is free. There’s a cost to everything. Whoever is texting you might have something to gain from this. Hell, for all we know this person might be…”
Natalie’s heart raced. She took a deep breath and put her thumbs to work on her phone. “Are you the killer?” Natalie asked via text message.
The next few seconds were the longest seconds of Natalie’s life. Whoosh! An incoming text message. “NO COMMENT.”
You know, I always had a question. What time does Saturday Night Live come on in the West Coast?
I never really knew. But now I assume it must have been taped live and shown live on the East Coast and then, what, they held it and showed it at 11:30 in the West Coast?
Is that what happened? I don’t even know. If you’re one of my 3.5 West Coast readers, fill me in on this.
I suppose the problem with that is then technically it’s not Saturday Night “Live” and also with social media being so prevalent, half the country is in on a joke for hours before the other half. If you’re on the West Coast, your East Coast buddies are talking about stuff you haven’t seen yet.
It’s like time travel! Freaky!
Anyway, Jimmy Fallon celebrated this momentous occasion with a song and dance number:
Oh Hollywood. You’re always making men look so much better than we are, thus letting women down whenever we fart or burp or do something that doesn’t live up to your ultra high standards.
Cole and Rusty were relieved by a few of Sitwell’s finest. The duo stood in the lobby of the sorority house and looked out through the window. A sea of Looky Lous had formed and since most of them were in college, they were all holding red plastic cups filled with all manner of alcoholic beverages.
“Countess Cuca-who-ga?” Cole asked.
“You’ve got to be kidding me,” Rusty said. “I’d say you must be living under a rock if I didn’t spend most of my time with you.”
“She famous?” Cole asked with true sincerity.
Rusty stared at Cole as though he had snakes popping out of his ears. “Is she famous?”
“Well who the hell is she?” Cole asked.
“Only the first recording artist to ever have a record go octuple platinum,” Rusty said. “That’s eight times the platinum.”
“She one of those rappers?” Cole asked.
“Pop diva,” Rusty replied. “Sang about her big ole badonka donk.”
“Badonka what?” Cole asked.
“Jesus,” Rusty said. “It’s what the kids call a big ass these days, Cole. Please get out more. Really, I’m worried about you.”
“She can’t be that good if I’ve never heard of her,” Cole said.
“Oh hell,” Rusty said. “If it isn’t on the Country Western station then you’ve never heard of it.”
“A fat ass is nothing to sing about, Rusty,” Cole said. “Pickup trucks. Horses. Long lost loves that will never come back again. That’s the stuff good songs are made of.”
“You’re forever trapped in the 90s,” Rusty said.
“Last time period that ever made sense to me,” Cole said.
The easily offended protesters were back and they began pounding on the glass.
“We want answers!” one protestor shouted.
“Cops are worse than Hitler!” another protester cried.
Cole rested his hands on his belt. “Goddamn hippies.”
“They call ‘em hipsters now,” Rusty noted.
“Same difference, different century,” Cole said.
“Yeah, well, Mr. Trapped in 1999,” Rusty said as he watched the angry college students bang their fists all over the glass door. “You’d better join us in 2017 right quick because this shit is gonna be big. I’m talking O.J. Simpson big.”
Cole blew a contemptuous raspberry at his partner. “No way that famous big butt girl was in the same league as O.J. Simpson.”
Rusty held up his phone. He pressed the NN1 app and Kurt Manley appeared on the tiny screen. “This just in…our NN1 celebrity murder analyst is here to talk about why the Countess Cucamonga case blows the ever loving shit out of the O.J. Simpson case…”
Bookshelf Battle 