READ PART 1 – Jake receives a request from Bookshelf Q. Battler to investigate whether Han or Greedo shot first in the original Star Wars (1977) film. Our resident gumshoe is reminded of a similar encounter he had with mobster Tips Malone.
The case had come to a standstill. I had zero leads and even less patience.
“I give up,” I said as I put my feet up on my desk and drifted back to sleep.
“Who shot first? Who cares? Why does it even matter?”
Hatcher types his report.
The enchanting face of Delilah K. Donnelly filled my dreams but alas, it was all for naught.
My chances of getting up close and personal with that blonde bombshell?
About the same as a duck billed platypus walking into a room without anyone laughing.
An hour later, there was a knock on my office door.
I ignored it. More knocks.
“Beat it, Jack!” I yelled. “I’m closed!”
Another knock.
“Mr. Hatcher?”
It was Delilah. I jumped out of my chair faster than the 6:15 to Walla Walla, Washington.
I found a mirror and straightened my fedora. I was a mess but then again, I always was. Most private dicks usually are. Par for the course in the criminal catching racket.
Delilah K. Donnelly, BQB’s Attorney
I opened the door and there she was, my dream girl all decked out from stem to stern in a gorgeous dress.
Such a fashion maven. I doubt she ever took two steps away from home without gussying up and polishing herself shinier than a hay penny.
“Mr. Hatcher,” Delilah said. “I dare say your mother would be appalled that you kept a lady waiting.”
“She would indeed, Ms. Donnelly, she would indeed,” I said as I showed her in and pulled out a chair for her. “Unfortunately, I had to make myself presentable.”
“Are you still working on that?” Delilah asked as she pinched her nose, oblivious to the fact that her insult struck my heart with the precision of an arrow shot by Robin Hood’s bow. “It smells like a distillery in here.”
“Yes,” I said as I grabbed a flask off my desk and shoved it into a drawer. “One of uh, my clients, left that here. Poor drunk fellow. Can’t get enough of the stuff. Me personally, I rarely touch the devil’s juice.”
“I should hope not,” Delilah said as she sparked up one of her filtered cigarettes. “I worry about the integrity of individuals with addictions, Mr. Hatcher.”
I thought about pointing out that smoking was, in fact, an addiction but the gears cranking away in my brain indicated to me that such a statement wouldn’t take me very far in my quest to separate Ms. Donnelly from her fine fashions.
“To what do I owe this pleasure?” I asked.
The lady lawyer plopped a plastic bag on my desk. I opened it up and found these fellas inside:
The Suspects
“What in the name of Dwight D. Eisenhower is all this then?” I asked.
“Research,” Delilah said. “Mr. Battler sent me to a store to purchase these toys and asked that I deliver them posthaste in the hopes that they will help you solve your second pop culture mystery.”
“I don’t get it,” I said as I held one of them up. “What am I supposed to do with these guys?”
“Well,” Delilah said as she blew out a smoke ring. “They’re toys are they not? You simply play with them, Mr. Hatcher, and see what happens next.”
Will Hatcher crack the case? The story continues tomorrow…
Copyright (c) Bookshelf Q. Battler 2015. All Rights Reserved.
Detective and blonde woman images courtesy of a shutterstock.com license.
By: Jake Hatcher, Official Bookshelf Battle Private Eye
POP CULTURE MYSTERY QUESTION: Han or Greedo: Who Shot First?
It was early morning. My five o’clock shadow had become a midnight blackout. I needed a shave like a madman needs sanity.
A ray of sunlight kissed my face but I was too tired to pucker. I closed the blinds and leaned back in my chair, my trusty fedora covering my face, leaving me in my own little world.
I drifted off in a space between slumber and reality, hovering on the verge of both but not quite entering into either. It’s nice when you’re too sleepy to care, but not too tired to enjoy it.
The sensation was short lived. I heard the scraping sound of an envelope being pushed underneath my door.
It was from Delilah. My new employer’s attorney had my heart twisted in knots though I’m sure the feeling only went one way.
Isn’t it strange how quickly we become attracted to that which we can’t have?
I opened up the envelope and read it.
Detective Hatcher,
A rogue pilot and a green alien walk into a bar. They shoot at each another. One lives. One dies.
That’s not the setup of a hilarious joke. It’s the beginning of your next pop culture mystery.
“Who shot first – Han or Greedo?” That’s been a question on the minds of geeks, dweebs, nerds, and assorted poindexters since the original Star Wars graced the big screen in 1977.
Some think Greedo shot first. Others believe it was Han. Both sides have their arguments. Both have their critics and detractors. It’s a question that has raged through the geekosphere for years with no resolution in sight.
I want you to provide that resolution, Hatcher. Did Han shoot first? Did Greedo? My 3.5 readers want answers!
Sincerely,
Bookshelf Q. Battler,
Blogger-In-Chief
Bookshelf Battle Blog
I crumpled up the paper and tossed it into my waste basket. Green aliens and space pilots shooting at each other. Who cares?
During my World War II days, over a thousand Nazis had taken shots at me. I’m still here. They’re not. It never mattered to me who shot first as long as I was the last man standing.
First? Second? Doesn’t matter. Betsy always comes out on top.
Delilah’s men had set up my office with fancy new fangled beep boop machines.
There was a big one on the desk and a little one I was expected to carry around with me.
Of all the phony baloney cock and bull inventions of this new world, the “cell phone” is the one I least understand.
Seriously, I walk out the door and I still have to be reachable by every Tom, Dick and Harry from here to Kalamazoo? In my day, if a fella wasn’t around when you called him, you’d just call him back later. There wasn’t anything so important it couldn’t wait.
Now everyone wants to call everyone else all the time, day or night and the ironic part is that few people ever have anything important to say.
“Who shot first?”
That very question took this old gumshoe’s mind back to late 1948.
I was around three years in on the job as an LA cop and had been promoted quickly to Detective. My partner was the irascible Mickey Finn. Believe it or not but back in those days, I actually liked the guy. Of course, that was before I caught him playing doctor with the first Mrs. Hatcher.
The Gilded Lilly. What a dive. I’d seen city trash dumps with better character and more respectable clientele.
Mugsy “I’m Just a Legitimate Businessman” McGillicuddy
It was owned by one Mugsy McGillicuddy. Back then, Old Mugsy was the boss to end all crime bosses in the City of Angels. The man was bald as a cueball, uglier than original sin, and was so fat that he bared a striking resemblance to three hundred pounds of crap stuffed into a one hundred pound bag.
Mickey and I strolled through the front door, dressed in our finest business attire. The bird on stage tickled our eardrums with her high notes while waitresses peddled cigarettes and cheap hooch. The whole place stunk with a mixture of smoke and dime store perfume. Kind of reminds me of my second ex-wife, come to think of it.
In the back corner booth, there was a rogue’s galley of ne’er-do-wells. It was a veritable who’s who of LA scumbaggery.
There was Ratface Wally. He wasn’t actually that bad looking but he’d squealed on his old New York Boss, Carmine Labrazza, singing a song for the coppers like he was auditioning for the opera. Mugsy had taken Wally under his wing, giving him protection in exchange for underworld secrets regarding his East Coast competition. That was one of the many reasons why Mugsy was universally despised, even by his fellow wiseguys.
Then there was Handsome Hank. It was an ironic nickname, like calling a fella Lefty when he’s a righty or Slim when he’s fat. That chump looked like the Gestapo had goose stepped all over his money maker, then turned around and did it again.
Sitting in between them was Tips Malone. They called him “Tips” because he was always generous with his billfold, doling out the cash to every dame that smiled at him. Tips was the man Mickey and I had come to see. After all, he was Mugsy’s second-in-command.
“Officers!” Tips said. “I’d offer you a drink but I know fine upstanding law men such as yourselves wouldn’t have anything to do with it.”
“You’re right,” I replied.
“Speak for yourself,” Mickey said. “Whiskey, straight up.”
Tips snapped his fingers to get the attention of a short, perky waitress who immediately ran off to get Mickey’s drink.
Boozing on the job. The warning signs of Mickey’s dirt bag ways were there. I just wish I’d seen them before it was too late.
“Where’s Mugsy?” I asked. “We’re here to serve an arrest warrant on him on a silver platter.”
“You’d run in a fine, respectable businessman like Mr. McGillicuddy?” Tips asked.
“We’re gonna lock up that big lug and bury the key smack dab in the middle of the Great Mojave,” I answered.
Tips clapped his hands, feigning applause.
“Bravo, Detective Hatcher,” Tips said. “Bravo. What a boy scout you are. I’m afraid I can’t help you, though. I haven’t spoken to Mr. McGillicuddy in days.”
“Hold on while I hitch up my boots,” I said. “Sounds like it’s going to get pretty deep in here, see?”
Mickey Finn – Hatcher’s Ex-Partner and Self-Declared Life of the Party.
The waitress brought Mickey’s drink. Old Mick sucked it down like it was liquid gold. Irony is a bitch in blue suede shoes, isn’t she? Back then, I was the sober one and Mickey was the palooka who was three sheets to the wind and ready to set sail to any port in town. Today, I’m sad to say it’s vice versa.
“Fellas,” Tips said. “Why don’t you leave us a moment?”
Wally and Hank got out of dodge while the getting was good. Mickey was buzzed but not too plastered to realize that the other shoe was about to drop. Gutless coward that he was, he didn’t want to be anywhere around when it happened.
“Pardon me while I visit the little boy’s room,” Mickey said. “You two behave now.”
As soon as we were alone, I heard the unmistakable sound of a clicking revolver coming from Tips’ direction. He’d had it pointed at me underneath the table the entire time.
“I think you’d better get back on the horse you rode in on, copper,” Tips said.
I opened up my trench coat and gave the felonious goon a peak at Old Betsy. She was sitting snuggly in her holster, just itching for a fight.
“I have a toy too and I came to play, see?”
“I’d expect nothing less,” Tips replied. “But surely you realize I have the drop on you. I’ll have you deader than a doornail before you can even reach for your shooting iron.”
“Maybe,” I said. “Or maybe you’re such a lousy shot that I’ll paint the walls with your brains before you know what hit you, see?”
Things were getting heated. The “sees” started flying back and forth across the table like a squad of supercharged geese.
“Maybe you I’ll shoot your schnozola off your stupid face to remind you not to poke it where it doesn’t belong, see?” Tips said.
“Yeah?” I asked. “Well, maybe I’ll fill you full of so many holes you’ll be able to do commercials for the Acme Swiss Cheese Company, see?”
“See?”
“See.”
“See?”
“See.”
It was a see-off.
“You ‘aint a bad guy Hatcher,” Tips said. “But you’re in over your head. Maybe you ought to learn a little something from your
partner about how to play ball. We’ve had Old Mick on the payroll for quite some time now. You can get a little bit of the green stuff for looking the other way too.”
“I could do that,” I said. “But I’d never be able to look the other way from my soul and it would ache worse than a monkey stuck in a meat grinder if I sell out to a two-bit hood like you, Malone.”
Tips Malone – Gentleman Gangster
Tips nodded and raised his left hand in a “stop” motion. With his right, he sat his revolver down on the table.
“Sportsmanship Hatcher,” my adversary said. “Let’s start with our steel on the table.”
I had to admire the guy. He had the drop on me and he gave it up to play fair. I retrieved Betsy and sat her on the table in front of me.
“Is that a Schotzenhauer?” Tips asked.
“Sure is,” I replied. “Model P58.”
“What a beauty,” Tips said. “She see a lot of action in the war?”
“Lost count after I sent a thousand Nazis to meet their maker,” I said. “They had a lot of explaining to do.”
“Won’t we all?” Tips asked. “Won’t we all.”
“On three then?” I asked.
“On three.”
I said one. Tips said two.
There was no three.
Just two loud BLAM BLAMS!
Tips was stone cold dead with a hole in his forehead deeper than the Grand Canyon. I was fine. Tips had always been a notoriously bad shot and I knew it. Hell, I used it to my advantage.
To this day, I’m not sure who shot first. It was possible that I’d popped Tips’ head open like a ripe casaba melon only to have him squeeze off an errant round in the last reflex movement of his pathetic life.
Then again, as I looked at the hole in the wall just a few inches away from my head, it dawned on me that Tips might have squeezed off the first round and missed, his lousy aim giving me the chance I needed to get the drop on him.
Good Old Betsy. After an all Nazi diet for years, she was hungry for any degenerate she could find.
And LA had an endless supply of them.
I walked to the bar and found Mickey. He was working on round number three.
“Hatch my boy!” Mickey said as he patted me on the back. “Have one with your partner!”
I plopped a one-dollar bill on the bar as an apology to the barkeep for the mess I was about to leave him with.
“Sorry Mac,” I said. “Big pile of trash back there for you.”
“Happens once a day in this joint, copper,” the bartender said as he ran a white cloth up and down the bar for no apparent reason. “You might want to skeedaddle before Wally and Hank come back though.”
I plopped my hand down on Mickey’s shoulder.
“Just one more,” my partner said.
“For Christ Sakes, man!” I said, giving Mickey a taste of my backhand. “You’re an officer of the law! Get ahold of yourself!”
“Well excuse me Father Hatcher,” Mickey said with slurred speech as he walked out the door with me. “I didn’t know you’d joined the priesthood.”
“Stuff it, Mick,” I said. “I think we need to have a talk about proper police procedure. You’re due for a refresher, see?”
My mind drifted for awhile. Finally, the flashback was over and I was concentrating on my 2015 life again.
“I don’t know how I’ll ever figure out which one of these space weirdos shot first,” I said, staring at Mr. Battler’s letter in my hand. “Same thing happened to me and I’m not sure myself.”
Who shot first? Han or Greedo? Star Wars fans, stop by bookshelfbattle.com tomorrow for a discussion of this vexing question!
Copyright (C) Bookshelf Q. Battler 2015. All Rights Reserved.
All images in this post courtesy of a shutterstock.com license.
Tomorrow’s episode of Pop Culture Mysteries is brought to you by the American Organization Against Anti-American Tomfoolery! Join us today and help stop the spread of the dreaded red menace!
ANNOUNCER: Earl and Pearl. Two fine upstanding Americans. Earl works a hard day at the office but can always count on Pearl to have a nice juicy steak waiting for him as soon as he walks through the door. They pay their taxes, trim their hedges, pick up litter, and never forget to vote.
PEARL: More steak Earl?
EARL: Of course, Pearl! You’ve outdone yourself again, dear!
PEARL: Oh you!
ANNOUNCER: Hello Earl and Pearl.
(Earl folds his newspaper and looks up.)
EARL: Oh. Hello.
ANNOUNCER: Say Earl, who’s that old gent who just moved in next door to you?
EARL: Mr. Thompson? Oh, I haven’t much of a chance to get to know him yet. Introduced myself the other day. Seems like a fine fellow.
ANNOUNCER: “Seems” is a tricky word, Earl.
EARL: What do you mean?
ANNOUNCER: Well, Mr. Thompson might “seem” like a kindly old codger when in fact, he could very well be a low down dirty stinking red communist, reporting every thing he observes about the United States directly to Nikita Khrushchev as we speak!
PEARL: Oh Heavens to Betsy!
ANNOUNCER: Now, now. Calm your feminine emotions, Pearl. There’s no need to panic.
EARL: What do we do?
ANNOUNCER: What any good American citizen should do! Get in Mr. Thompson’s business and find out if he prefers the Stars and Stripes or the Hammer and Sickle!
PEARL: How do we do that?
ANNOUNCER: I was talking to Earl. Pearl, the men are talking now…
PEARL: I’m sorry. It’s my darn feminine emotions acting up again.
ANNOUNCER: Earl, go have yourself a real conversation with your neighbor. Better yet, invite him over for a nice dinner. Hear that, Pearl? You can finally be useful.
PEARL: And how!
EARL: Are there any warning signs I should look out for?
ANNOUNCER: Of course! The fine upstanding Americans at the American Organization Against Anti-American Tomfoolery have identified the following issues to consider:
1. BASEBALL – Can Mr. Thompson name the starting lineup of the Dodgers? Baseball is the American past-time you know. The dirty pinkos’ favorite pastime? Why, it’s a toss-up between baby strangling and puppy kicking.
2. CINEMA – Bring Hollywood into the conversation and any red blooded American male will surely mention Rita Hayworth. Keep your ears open in case Mr. Thompson mentions Olga of Olga’s Stewstravaganza, literally the only Soviet movie ever made. It’s all about a peasant woman’s quest to create the perfect stew.
4. MONEY – Sing that perennial favorite, “How Much is that Doggy in the Window?” Does Mr. Thompson reply “I do hope that doggy’s for sale!” or “The doggy belongs to everyone and is to be shared equally, comrade!”
5. THE PIE TEST – Nothing is more American than apple pie. Set a piece in front of a commie and he’ll shrink away from it and hiss like a vampire!
EARL: That sure is a lot to think about.
ANNOUNCER: It sure is, Earl. It sure is. Remember – ONLY YOU CAN PRESERVE LADY LIBERTY FROM THE RED MENACE!
Have a question about pop culture? Put Hatcher on the case! Tweet your inquiries to @bookshelfbattle #popculturemysteries or leave it in the comments on bookshelfbattle.com
Copyright Bookshelf Q. Battler 2015. All Rights Reserved.
1950’s couple image courtesy of a shutterstock.com license.
A brand new episode of Pop Culture Mysteries starts tomorrow…
“Hmm…my powers of deduction lead me to believe this dame croaked from boredom. Probably didn’t read enough of the Bookshelf Battle Blog, see?”
Jake Hatcher, Official Bookshelf Blog Private Eye, has agreed to solve 100 pop culture mysteries and submit his findings right here on bookshelfbattle.com
Need to refresh your memory? Better check out the previous episodes, see?
Who better to solve a mystery than Jake Hatcher, a hardboiled film noir style detective who fell asleep in his office above an LA Chinese restaurant in 1955, woke up in 2014, and spent a year trying to figure out what happened before Bookshelf Q. Battler’s Attorney, the delicious dish Delilah K. Donnelly, offered him the chance to make 500 smackers? (That’s a lot of dough in 1955, see?)
Do you have a question about popular culture? Is there a plot hole in your favorite TV show or movie you’d like explained? Is there a celebrity meltdown you’d like to know more about? An entertainment myth you want debunked?
Together, we can help Hatcher solve 100 mysteries and go back to his own time with a big bag of five dollar bills, which he will use to live like a king.
Tomorrow’s Pop Culture Mystery: Han or Greedo – who shot first?
Man investigating murder victim image courtesy of a shutterstock.com license.
Does this mean by Jon Snow action figure goes up in value?
Quite a surprise ending for Season 5, wasn’t it?
I’ve finally processed my grief and am now able to talk about it but first, let’s talk about real life.
That’s right. I’m talking about the life outside of Game of Thrones, the one without the dragons, or the Khaleesi, or the epic battles or a functionally alcoholic dwarf who manages to save the day despite his ennui.
“If you want to make God laugh, tell him your plans.”
That’s an old cliche, isn’t it? It holds up though. So many of us work our little butts off. We toil away, we make goals, figure out the steps we need to take to work towards them and do what we can to achieve them.
Sometimes things work out for us. Other times, and usually more often than not, we fall flat on our faces.
3.5 readers, who among you has locked up your emotions with a significant other you trusted not to screw you over? Surely, at least one of you convinced yourself your girlfriend, boyfriend, spouse, partner, whatever was “the one” and you built your life around said individual.
Maybe you were planning to get married or hell, maybe you DID get married. God, maybe you even brought kids into the world with this person. Or maybe you didn’t. Maybe you just walked around telling your friends and family what a reliable, dependable person this guy or gal was.
Then one day…boom! Gone.
POSSIBLE BREAK-UP LINES USED ON YOU:
It’s not you, it’s me.
It was you all along.
I hate your face.
Welcome to Dumpsville. Population: You.
TEXT MESSAGE: U IZ DUMPD
TWEET: #UIZDUMPD
FACEBOOK: You’re dumped. Here’s a funny cat video I hope will help you get through it.
Forget relationships. Maybe you’re career aspirations did not go how you planned them. You went to college, selected a major, gained useful experience and boom! You’re riding the pine on the ‘rents’ couch because the economy stinks worse than a wookie during mating season on Kashyyyk.
Maybe everything did go right. Maybe you did find that awesome job and that awesome significant other.
Maybe one day you’re walking across the street, you’re thinking, “Wow, everything sure did work out for me and OH NO! A damn Mac Truck just ran over my face.”
Life. Whether it’s romance or careers or dreams, there’s just no guarantee of success and everything can go turn to crap in an instant.
Now, add in the dragons, and the sword fights, and the Khaleesi and you have Game of Thrones, a fantasy show that is as close as a program can get to real life and still feature a red headed witch with the ability to push smokey ghost assassins out of her cooter.
Attorney Donnelly preemptively apologizes to anyone offended by my use of the word “cooter.” Also, please read Pop Culture Mysteries. I’m pretty proud of that one.
In real life, there’s what you wanted to happen AND what did happen.
I, your illustrious blog host Bookshelf Q. Battler, will now analyze the past season/final episode with through those two points of view.
SPOILER WARNING!!!! DON’T READ IF YOU DON’T WANT ANYTHING SPOILED!
GAME OF THRONES – HBO – SEASON 5 TRAILER – THE WHEEL
THE BIG SURPRISE – JON SNOW
WHAT I WANTED TO HAPPEN – Jon Snow to continue into the next season as the man standing between Westeros and the White Walkers.
WHAT DID HAPPEN – The Night’s Watch turned on their leader in a big way.
Jon Snow was named Lord Commander of the Night’s Watch this season. His men grumbled about his decisions but they also gave every indication of, “Well, this is a military organization so we have to follow orders even when they piss us off.”
Jon grew so much this season, moving from dopey pretty boy to battle hardened leader. He made a tough call with the Wildlings.
The Night’s Watch Brothers are understandably unhappy with the decision to save the Wildlings. These are people who have killed several brothers as well as innocent bystanders – men, women and children. Sure, the Wildlings’ reasoning is, “Hey! You put up a big ass wall and locked us out of the Kingdom!” but the justification is, “Of course we did! You guys are a bunch of aholes and are basically snow covered Dothraki!”
SIDE NOTE: The genius of the books/series is that nothing is ever black and white. George RR provides reasoning and justification for why every characters acts the way that they do, even the worst ones. Their actions aren’t necessarily right, but you’re left with an understanding of the events that led to a person becoming an evil jerkface.
I get that no character is safe but so much was built up around Jon snow:
You know nothing – Am I the only one who thought all of those, “You know nothing, Jon Snows” would eventually lead to a big reveal where Jon Snow would learn something, whatever it was that he was supposed to know?
Jon Snow’s Mother – (Possible Big Spoiler) – In the first season, we learn that Ned brought baby Jon Snow back to Winterfell, a bastard he had with some allegedly random hussy because while he loved Cat and all, he thought he was going to die during Robert’s Rebellion so he might as well get a little somethin’ somethin’ on the side and woops! We won the war! Guess Ned has some ‘splaining to do.
Ned tells Jon he’ll fill him in on his mother one day. Will we ever find out who Jon’s mother is now? Will it matter if/when we do?
There’s been a long bandied about theory (POSSIBLE BIG SPOILER!) that Jon was not actually Ned’s kid but rather, was the love child of Lyanna Stark (Ned’s sister betrothed to Robert Baratheon) and Rhaegar Targaryen, that Lyanna wasn’t actually kidnapped but in fact, she ran away willingly with Rhaegar and as a Targaryen, Jon had the closest link to the throne and Ned felt the need to protect his nephew from Robert by claiming him as a bastard, even if that meant enduring Cat’s constant, “Waah waah Ned cheated on me while he was at war” complaints.
Is that theory possible? Who knows now but here’s a question – was noble Ned really the cheating type?
This is what George RR does and does best. He builds up our hopes and dreams. Like Lucy from Peanuts, he holds that damn football. Like the gullible Charlie Brown, the dumb audience comes running up to kick that football and then bam, George, like Lucy, pulls that football away. He does it every time and we keep watching because in many ways, those big shockers make for thrilling television.
GRRM did it with Rob Stark, when the Young Wolf won battle after battle against the Lannisters only to be gutted at the Red Wedding. He did it with Prince Oberyn when we were led to believe that the Viper had bested the Mountain only to gloat just a little too early. And now he’s done it with Jon Snow.
Sure, Jon’s untimely demise made for a big “HOLY CRAP” moment but whether or not it pans out as a good decision for the series remains to be seen. After all, we invested a lot in Jon Snow. Aside from the Khaleesi and Tyrion, he was pretty much the last good guy worth rooting for.
Sam’s a fun character but will it be as invigorating to watch him stand between Westeros and the White Walkers? Will we cheer on the Night’s Watch when they betrayed their Lord Commander? Seriously, other than Dany, who’s left to like now?
SIDE NOTE: In keeping with the GOT = Real Life argument, keep in mind at this point, the more likely outcome is not that Dany swoops into Westeros and saves the day but rather, that the Whitewalkers just take over the entire fantasy world and have a great undead time into all eternity. I can honestly see GRRM taking that approach, can’t you?
CERSEI
WHAT I WANTED TO HAPPEN: Cersei refuses to confess. Tommen grows a pair and sends the army to retrieve his wife, mother and brother-in-law.
WHAT DID HAPPEN: Tommen reverts to being an indecisive wuss. Cersei confesses, goes on the worst walk of shame ever and still has to undergo a trial anyway.
Cersei’s the character fans love to hate. The running pattern in the show is that she concocts these schemes, thinks she’s so clever and then her plans backfire royally. That happened again this season. By giving the High Sparrow the power of a religious army, she thought she’d developed her own personal hit squad to take out her enemies, namely the Tyrells.
It all backfired when the High Sparrow turned on her and locked her up.
Cersei’s done a lot of bad things to good people (most notably Ned) but on the other hand, that whole “walk of shame” scene was sad to watch and surely it would be a painful experience for anyone to go through.
Hat’s off to Lena Headey. I’m sure walking around in the buff whilst surrounded by throngs of fantasy peasant extras spitting on you, throwing garbage and uh, other substances at you and hurling insults was no easy feet.
SIDENOTE: Remember how Lady Stoneheart was axed from the series, that the idea was a little farfetched? But uh, Frankenmountain isn’t? Clyburn introducing his “creation” kind of blew the end of that very powerful walk of shame scene. The emotion was raw and real and then it went basically went to a Frankenstein monster to defend Cersei’s honor.
JAIME/MYRCELLA – I’m going to rush through this one. I wanted Myrcella to live because, hey, she’s just a kid. Why punish her when she didn’t do anything? Alas, Jaime gets that briefest of father/daughter moments before seeing his offspring die due to Ellaria’s treachery. Prince Doran won’t be happy.
STANNIS/SANSA/REEK/BOLTONS/RED WOMAN
WHAT I WANTED TO HAPPEN: Stannis ousts the Boltons, frees Sansa. Sansa finally gets to have somewhat of a normal existence where she isn’t a captive or a torture victim.
WHAT DID HAPPEN: As often happens in real life, the bad guys aka the Boltons, won.
Perhaps GRRM’s intent in having Stannis sacrifice Shireen was to turn him from good to bad guy, thus leaving the audience pleased at his defeat.
Stannis started out in the series as the ruthless “win at all costs” warrior, too blindly devoted to the Red Woman, willing to even kill his own brother (through the above mentioned cooter delivered smoke ghost assassin) to get what he wants.
But then Stannis scored points and his stock rose. He was the only one to respond to the Night’s Watch calls for help, bringing his men to save the day during the Wildling attack. He told Shireen that she was a princess and that he had always seen to it that she’d be treated accordingly despite her ailment.
GRRM convinced us. Go Stannis. Kick out the dastardly Boltons. Punish them for their betrayal of the Starks. Save Sansa.
Alas, then there was what happened to Shireen and well, the battle became a conflict between two aholes (Bolton vs. Baratheon) and as often happens in life, you were left tepidly rooting for the lesser of two aholes.
What about Lady Melisandre? Some powerful acting there. She presents herself as the consummate, unshaken true believer in the Lord of Light yet when the audience learns half of Stannis men have fled with the horses, you can see the look of defeat in her eyes.
Here’s a question – would you keep fighting for a guy who cooked his daughter alive? Could that have been a big reason why his troops skeedaddled?
SIDENOTE: Will the Red Woman resurrect Jon Snow? Tough call.
1) We’re not sure if she can. Sometimes it is implied that she’s full of shit. She might have no magic power and all she does is pull creepy sayings out of her ass, throw a few powders into the fire, put on a little show and then she has the patronage and support of a rich royal family. She all but said that in a prior episode.
2) But she might be able do. I mean, hell, the woman did push a smokey ghost assassin out of her cooter, so bringing a dead man back to life should be a piece of cake.
3) Kit Harington, the actor who played Jon Snow, has already said in interviews that Jon isn’t coming back. I mean, that still doesn’t mean it’s impossible but it’s something to keep in mind. (Would an actor say, “Oh yeah! Don’t worry! The Red Woman will bring me back!” if that was going to happen?)
Still, I kind of doubt that’s going to happen.
SANSA AND REEK – Hey um, I’m surprised I’m the only one asking this, but are they dead? They’re pretty much dead, aren’t they?
The show runners were made a point to show the viewer just how tall that damn wall was, that there weren’t any beds of feathers or wagons full of pillows waiting at the bottom, and we even saw a person fall to her death from the inner side so…Sansa and Reek jumped just after Sansa declared she’d rather die than be tortured any more so uh….I don’t know. I fail to see how they’d of survived that fall but we didn’t see any bodies so I guess we wait until next season.
I have to say if Sansa dies it will be yet another, “God damn it. Another character I rooted for taken from me.”
ARYA
WHAT I WANTED TO HAPPEN: Arya continues her training
WHAT DID HAPPEN: Arya goes blind. I don’t know why. The Faceless Men have rules and she broke them.
THE KHALEESI
WHAT I WANTED TO HAPPEN: I wanted a damn explanation as to how the Khaleesi’s buddies survived the Sons of the Harpy attack after being abandoned by their Queen when she went on a dragon joyride. Also, I wanted her to return and continue to lead her army into Westeros, since now, without Jon Snow, she’s pretty much that continent’s only hope.
WHAT DID HAPPEN: The Khaleesi is captured by the Dothraki and this time does not have Khal Drogo to protect her. Hopefully, Mormont and Daario will find her in time.
But keep in mind, we’re onto your tricks, GRRM. We won’t be surprised if you have the Khaleesi get burned up by one of her dragons or killed by the Dothraki or something.
Hell, just give the Iron Throne to Sam Tarly or Hodor and be done with it.
Real life? You never get what you want and that’s why you never get what you want on this show either.
Our noble hero Bookshelf Q. Battler is on an epic quest in search of the meaning of life. Along the way, he’s assisted by super detectives Holmes and Watson and even finds a love interest in Victoria Gloria Somersby Stratenhaus, a geeky female video game enthusiast.
Read Parts 1-5
Read Parts 6-13
Read Part 14 Read Part 15
Read Part 15 Read Part 16
Read Part 18
“You still haven’t told me how you ended up on a trip to Pango-Tango,” I said.
“Oh right,”Vicky replied.“Steve told me that I’d discover the path toward the meaning of life in a most annoying manner.”
“Did he now?”I asked.
“He sure did,”Vicky said.“And wouldn’t you know it, a few days later, I’m recovering in my house when all of a sudden, my cat starts meowing at the TV and low and behold, a news story about the Great Guru of Pango-Tango comes on!”
“That’s….that is…I’m speechless.”
“I know, right?”
I opened up my bag and looked at Holmes.He looked up at me and silently mouthed the words “tell her!”
I shut the bag.
“Sounds like you’ve been through a lot,” I said.
“I have,” Vicky said.“And to think, I’d of never experienced any of it had I not been woken up at 3 a.m.”
“What woke you up that early?”I asked as I took a sip of generic brand cola.
“The tiny video game characters who live on my magic video game rack,”Vicky said.
I did a spit take.I thought spit takes were only for cheesey comedies.I was wrong.
“Are you ok?”Vicky asked, patting me on the back.
“Yeah,”I said.“Yeah, I’m fine.Just went down the wrong pipe.I’m sorry.You said something about a magic video game
Victoria Gloria Somersby Stratenhaus CODE NAME: Video Game Rack Fighter (Seen here with her contacts in)
rack?”
I took another sip of soda.
“Yes,”Vicky said.“In fact, I should tell you that Vicky is only my given name.My chosen name is Video Game Rack Fighter.”
Another spit take.
“Wow,”Vicky said.“I think you’re developing a bit of a drinking problem there, buddy.”
“Yeah,”I said.“Yeah I think I’m going to lay off the generic brand cola for now.Video Game what?”
“Video Game Rack Fighter,”Vicky said.“I own a magic video game rack.For some odd reason unbeknownst to me, any time I put a video game on my rack, the characters in the game come to life and battle one another over the limited space on my rack.I try to tell them there’s plenty of room and they don’t need to worry about me throwing any of their games away, but they refuse to listen.”
“I imagine that can be very stressful,” I said.
“It is,”Vicky said.“They’re always tearing my house apart.They never listen to a word I say.Just the other day I had to yell at the War Shooter soldiers to stop shooting at my copy Interplanetary Roleplayer.”
“Must be nice to get away for awhile then,” I said.
“It is,”Vicky said.“I’m a little worried they’ll run up a big pay per view bill while I’m gone, but all in all, it should be alright.I left Video Game Rack Fighter Cat in charge.”
“Video Game Rack Fighter Cat?” I asked.
“My head of security,” Vicky replied. “I like to think of my house as a headquarters where I’m safe from my enemies.”
Video Game Rack Fighter Cat, Head of Security VGRF HQ
“You have enemies?” I asked.
“Mostly a damn sasquatch I keep locked in my basement,” Vicky said. “He keeps trying to stop me from being awesome but I defeat him at every turn.”
I faked a yawn and stretched.I wasn’t tired, but I was at the end of my ability to listen to all the amazing similarities we shared. My heart told me to share my story but my brain got in the way.
“Vicky,”I said.“I hope you don’t mind, but I need a little nap.”
“That’s a good idea,”Vicky said as she tucked a pillow underneath her head.“I’m exhausted from yelling at Giuseppe and Carmine anyway.”
“Yelling at who?”I asked.
“Giuseppe and Carmine”Vicky said.“You know, the small characters that popped out of my copy of Stereotypical Italian Contractors. They snuck into my bag even though I expressly told them not to come.That’s what I was doing in the bathroom all the time.I was chewing them out royally.”
“Oh,”I said.
“You must think I’m crazy,”Vicky said as she closed her eyes.
“No,”I said.“Not at all.”
“I can’t believe I told you all this but you just seem like a real trustworthy guy””
Vicky closed her eyes.
“I hope you’re still here when I wake up, Ed,”Vicky said.“It’s been fun talking to you.”
Coming Soon to the Bookshelf Battle Blog – “What’s on Vicky’s Rack?” An exciting video game review column by Video Game Rack Fighter! (Yeah, it’s a working title. We know how it sounds.)
More BQB and the Meaning of Life to come!
Copyright Bookshelf Q. Battler 2015. All Rights Reserved.
Video game playing woman, cat, and sasquatch images courtesy of a shutterstock.com license.
Liddie Laurent, 1940’s Starlet of Stage and Screen
LIDDIE: Darling 3.5 readers! How lovely for you to be here today! I’m positively…no, this won’t do at all. Cease production posthaste!
DIRECTOR: CUT! What’s wrong, Liddie?
LIDDIE: I do not understand this scene at all, Mr. Chesterfield. This role is dreadful! Someone get my agent on the telephone machine immediately!
DIRECTOR: It’s just a commercial, Liddie.
LIDDIE: A commercial? A COMMERCIAL! Sir, I’ll have you know I was the leading lady in One Kiss Till Midnight and yet you’d think so little of a performer of my talents as to subject me to a life of hawking toothpaste and toiletries to the cheap and tawdry masses?
DIRECTOR: It’s not a commercial for toothpaste and toiletries.
LIDDIE: It might as well be! This is how it starts you know. One minute I’m the star of Tap Dance to Toolaroo and the next minute I’m peddling television dinners for lowly house fraus too lazy to cook for their husbands!
DIRECTOR: Come on Liddie, get it together. All right, people! Let’s take it from the top. In 3…
LIDDIE: Oh I simply cannot work under these conditions! The complaint I shall file on this production with the Thespian’s Society shall be copious and voluminous and another thing…
DIRECTOR: …2…1…ACTION!
LIDDIE: Darling 3.5 readers! How lovely for you to be here today! I’m positively delighted to see you. Come closer so I might tell you the wonderful news. Pop Culture Mysteries is available on Wattpad. Now, you’ll have a second option to…no. No! No! NO! This simply will not do Mr. Chesterfield!
DIRECTOR: CUT! Liddie, what now?
LIDDIE: “Wattpad?” What in the name of the Kaiser’s pointy helmet is a Wattpad? This is gibberish sir! I don’t know who the charlatan is who wrote this rubbish but whoever he is he should be put back on the hobo train from whence he came, never to darken my doorstep again!
DIRECTOR: Wattpad. Wattpad. It’s uh..
LIDDIE: You have no idea do you?
DIRECTOR: It’s 1949, Liddie! How am I supposed to know?
LIDDIE: How absolutely wretched! I’m being asked to sell something and I have no idea what it even is.
DIRECTOR: It’s a wattpad! You know, it’s a pad you rub on your feet when they’re itchy or something.
LIDDIE: Mr. Chesterton! For shame, sir! For shame! You dare drag me…me?! The star of Sunshine is for Lovers, all the way to this abysmal shack you call a set and ask me to sell foot pads! No! Never!
DIRECTOR: Liddie, not for nothing, but I’ve got a line around the block of a bunch of younger, prettier broads who’d step over their grandmothers for this part.
(LIDDIE WALKS ACROSS THE SET AND SLAPS THE DIRECTOR ACROSS THE FACE)
LIDDIE: The nerve! I’ll have you know I’m not a day over twenty-five or I’m a monkey’s uncle!
DIRECTOR: Someone get her a banana.
(ANOTHER SLAP THEN LIDDIE WALKS OFF)
LIDDIE: Bring my car around, Lattimore! I shan’t be treated in this shoddy manner! Wait until the scandal sheets learn that the star of Save Luck for a Rainy Day was treated like common riff raff!
Liddie Laurent. Coming soon to Pop Culture Mysteries…assuming we can get her to chill out and be cool.
It’s original. It’s not a reboot of a remake of a sequel. It’s the breakout success of the summer. And it left BQB rolling in the aisles.
Bookshelf Q. Battler here with a review of the comedy/action film Spy.
OBLIGATORY SPOILER WARNING
Movie Trailer – Spy – 20th Century Fox
I have to admit going into this I wasn’t expecting much, so I love it when a movie leaves me pleasantly surprised and wanting more.
Melissa McCarthy’s great and all but for awhile I’ve felt her best performance was in Bridesmaids and everything else was just icing on the cake.
Until now.
McCarthy stars as Susan Cooper, a desk jockey CIA analyst who provides mission support for CIA agent Bradley Fine (Jude Law).
When the covers of the CIA’s top agents are blown, the situation calls for a real nobody to save the day, someone the enemy has never heard of before.
Or in other words, Susan Cooper.
Over the years, many films have tried to blend action with comedy with mixed results. Sometimes there’s a focus on the comedy and the action is watered down or vice versa. This film, on the other hand, provides the perfect mix of both. I was slapping my knee uncontrollably at all the funny bits but at the same time, was blown away with visual effects and fight scenes that rival any of the other action blockbusters out this summer.
McCarthy’s stock will no doubt rise after this picture. Not to give too much away, but she hilariously overcomes various lame cover identities to take control and bring down a scheme to sell a nuclear bomb.
What’s the key to a great comedy? For me, it’s uncontrollable laughter. Laughter is as real as it gets when it comes to emotional reaction. You either laugh or you don’t and I can’t remember a movie that left me guffawing like an idiot the way this one did.
Jason Statham shows a new side of himself as he provides a parody of every tough guy he’s ever played in the form of Agent Rick Ford. As a running joke in the film, Ford continuously regales Cooper with countless stories of dangers he’s encountered on the job. He’s been shot, stabbed, set on fire, and ingested one-hundred and seven varieties of poison, just to name a few.
Statham with a sense of humor. Who knew he had it in him?
As Rayna, the bad girl of the film, Rose Byrne proves that various dirty words said with a British accent become that much more hilarious.
British actress Miranda Hart plays Cooper’s sidekick Nancy, another CIA desk jockey who’s thrust into the thick of it without any prior field experience. I’d never heard of her before but her performance left me hoping to see more of her in the future.
Ultimately, this movie pokes fun at the James Bond films and yet, not only does it do that well, it becomes something special all of its own.
As you might be aware, Director Paul Feig and McCarthy are a comedic duo. Feig provides the film know how while McCarthy provides the laughs.
Up until now, the duo hadn’t provided a movie with intense action and special effects but if this film is an indication of what they are capable of, then this critic is resting a little easier knowing that the upcoming Ghostbusters reboot is in good hands.
Jake Hatcher, Official Bookshelf Battle Blog Private Eye
A husband. A wife. Six kids, three from the man’s first marriage, three from the wife’s.
And a housekeeper who’s as loyal as a highly trained doberman is to its master.
The Brady Bunch aired on ABC from 1969 to 1974. They’re often looked back on as a bastion of wholesomeness, a tame group who got along a lot better than most families do today.
Still, for the time, the subject matter was a bit risqué. Men and women with kids from past marriages (or hell, past flings even) get married all the time, but in those days, it was a taboo topic for television.
Kids just don’t pop out of thin air. There had to have been two other people involved in this story.
What happened to Mike Brady’s first wife?
What happened to Carol Brady’s first husband?
My employer, Bookshelf Q. Battler, was dying to know and thus began my first Pop Culture Mystery.
Want to know what happened to the original Brady Bunch spouses?
Well, you could throw a football to your brother, but you might break your sister’s schnozola in the process.
Better play it safe and read these fine tales instead:
Part 1 – Delilah walks her getaway sticks to a coffee shop, where I’m having a helluva time adjusting to modern sensibilities. Can’t get a black coffee for less than a King’s ransom. Can’t smoke without the whole joint coming down on you like a ton of bricks. Did the Nazis have a comeback while I was asleep?
Part 2 – Agnes the Librarian comes to my aid, helping navigate the complicated world of the modern beep boop machine. I miss the old days when a computer was the size of a warehouse and only the government had them.
Part 3 – I twist the lid off this mystery like it’s a jar of three week old pickles. If you want to find out what happened to Mike’s first wife and Carol’s first husband, read on.
(I’m told you can watch the Brady’s antics now on something called Hulu. I have no idea what that is because I’m from 1955. I assume it’s something you’ll need a beep boop machine for.)
Do you have a Pop Culture Mystery? Put Hatcher on the case! Tweet your questions about movies, television, music, books and entertainment to @bookshelfbattle or leave them in the comments on the Bookshelf Battle Blog.
Copyright (C) Bookshelf Q. Battler 2015. All Rights Reserved.
By: Jake Hatcher, Official Bookshelf Battle Private Eye
Jake Hatcher, Official Bookshelf Battle Private Eye
Dames. They’re a dime a dozen until one day one passes by and makes your jaw drop faster than a 1929 stock ticker.
Delilah K. Donnelly. Now that’s one attorney I wouldn’t mind handling my pro bono.
Get your mind out of the gutter, degenerates. All I’m saying is when it comes to dinero I’m broker than a piñata full of candy at a kids’ birthday party, and I could use the gal’s advice on all the mysteries coming my way.
After all, she’s the one bringing them to me.
My new employer, one Bookshelf Q. Battler, is some kind of whacko who spends all his time thinking about popular culture. Movies, television, music, books, entertainment – he can’t get enough of it.
But his obsession means he’s full of questions.
Delilah serves as a go-between, an intermediary, if you will. The nerd thinks up the mysteries, the dame delivers them and who solves them?
Yours truly.
Want to know how this whole arrangement began? You’re going to have to pop on your spectacles and do some reading, Jack.
Delilah K. Donnelly, In-House Counsel for the Bookshelf Battle Blog
Part 1 – I return to my office on a dark and stormy night only to find a blonde dame sitting in my deskchair. She knows so much about me that it makes me uncomfortable. Hell, the broad even knows everything about my ex-wives.
Part 2 – The gal reads me my whole life’s story. Odd, since I knew it already. It’s almost like she was doing it for the benefit of 3.5 readers. Also, I dish details about a top secret mission I was involved in during World War II.
Part 3 – The blonde introduces herself as Delilah K. Donnelly. She’s a lawyer, which is too bad, because I’ve never met a member of the bar that didn’t make me clutch my wallet tighter. Come to think of it, this lawyer makes me want to clutch something else…
Part 4 – Delilah provides me a letter from an odd fella who wants me to work for him.
Part 5 – Cunning counselor that she is, Delilah presents an iron clad contract to me.
Part 6 – Do I sign it? Feast your peepers and find out.
No blondes were entered during the production of this story. One did enter a room though, hence the title.
Do you have a Pop Culture Mystery? Put Hatcher on the case! Tweet your questions about movies, television, music, books and entertainment to @bookshelfbattle or leave them in the comments on the Bookshelf Battle Blog.
Copyright (C) Bookshelf Q. Battler 2015. All Rights Reserved.
Bookshelf Battle 