I am screaming and punching myself

MST3K: The Starfighters

No celebration of the wonders of Mystery Science Theater 3000 would be complete without a mention of one of my personal favorites, The Starfighters.

It's about planes. And the Air Force. And flight safety. And refueling. And an awkward, contrived romance. But mostly it's about refueling.

And the really great thing? It's almost a musical! Seriously, there's so many orchestral arrangements that at one point Crow is compelled to ask, "Are all the other armed services as easy-listening as the Air Force?"

During that last refueling scene, Mike even picks up Tom and the two dance... well, to the extent that a dude holding an inert puppet and moving around can be called "dancing."

But the songs kick into high gear when a certain piece of rescue equipment is introduced. No sooner does the flight instructor say "poopie suit" than it's like Christmas for Mike and the bots.

I like to call the above number the "Poopie Suit Hop," while the valedictory scene is treated to the more solemn (yet less dignified) "Poopie Suit Anthem."

In a truly strange coda, in a recent episode of "Bones," bodies wearing black nylon uniforms were exhumed and examined. To my utter astonishment, I learned that poopie suits are actual Navy-issue equipment. I would say "art imitates life," but under no circumstances could "The Starfighters" be called art.

Pre-Halloween festivities

As the recession continues to hang around like an unpleasant odor, retailers have stepped up the holiday merchandising more than ever. Many shops have begun putting Christmas diggity out already, and Halloween stuff has been in the stores since late July. Fortunately, this has given us a chance to plan out our Halloween pet-scape, and we have high hopes for the reveal. And while that will have to wait, here's a little costumed-pet taste to tide you over.

One of the benefits of owning a small dog is that she can share a wardrobe with her feline "aunt." Who do you think wears the summer sundress better: Emily...

... or Peach?

I will say this: Peach certainly enjoyed wearing the dress more. After we had taken it off of her and put it in the little "costume bin" on the wall of the cat room, Peach would run in the room and look longingly up at the bin.

Of course, that might have been her fascination with the newest addition to our costume collection. It seems that J and I were ahead of the curve in dressing cats, and now the folks at PetSmart have caught up with us. For last weekend, we found this glorious bit of headgear in the cat aisle:

(The shot is blurry because J was laughing so hard at the "indignant bunny" look on Mojo's face.) Best $6.99 we ever spent.

Here, Festive Sir Mojo hisses at his doggie "niece" who's just trying to reach two of her favorite things in the world: Uncle Mojo and his shiny new headgear.

And here, we have the only-at-our-house moment of a dog in a dress trying to approach a cat in a jester hat.

Lest you wonder, none of these costumes will figure into Halloween. We just felt like riling the pets up and taking pictures. 'Cause that's how we roll.

True Confessions: I bought a cheesy song

This post kicks off a potentially endless series in which I cop to things that a more dignified person would be far too ashamed to reveal. Future posts will discuss my fascination with TV shows that feature meth use and my inexplicable fondness for Eddie Murphy.

If you had a lot of time to kill this past December, you might have discovered the minor Internet sensation known as the video to "Shine" by Chris Dane Owens. It's really quite spectacular...

Yeah. Take a moment or two and let it all settle. I'll totally understand if you need to watch it again to really take it all in.

I actually took notes during the video because it is so very dense with the imagery. Here's a partial transcript: "Nice wind machine. Ship? 'STACHE! Sparkles. Dr. Doom? Evil... chicks? Dragons. Peter the Great? Dragons???—no, alligator. Are evil chicks now in The Matrix? Sleeves." There are so many question marks because I simply could not believe what I was beholding.

But as my eyes were feasting on the incoherent awesomeness, my ears were sneaking in to enjoy the show as well. Here's the thing: I love dance music. Love it. And the more it feels like a dance hit from 1987, the better. Give me wistful chord progressions, vampy vocals and a completely canned beat and I'm in heaven. You can see where I'm going with this.

Yes, after trying to deny my fondness for the song behind that video, I finally caved in August and spent the 99 cents to purchase "Shine" from iTunes. It's now entered heavy rotation in my workout playlist, and I have to say, when I'm trying to get through a long run on the treadmill, that song can keep me going.

Of course, I realize that by purchasing the work of Sparkling Sir Owens, I have supported him and his art and have probably given him a small, micropayment-sized nod to go ahead and make a sequel video to "Shine."

You can thank me later.

A Tool by any other name would still smell as strongly of Axe

I would like to begin this post by raining curses down upon the head of my dear friend Lisa who innocently said last Saturday night, "My new guilty pleasure on TV is Tool Academy. You should check it out!" And I did. And it was awful, in that way that I simply cannot turn away from.

The thing that bothered me the most about the first episode of Tool Academy was the same thing that bothers me when I check out most tabloids at the supermarket: not only do I have no idea who these people are, I can't tell most of them apart.

At that now classic moment when the true nature of Tool Academy is revealed (a.k.a. "So there's no International Party King?"), I don't see 12 individual tools. All I see is a contiguous mass of stupid headwear, visible boxer waistbands and bad-decision tattoos.

I mean, I know there's a great big one, and there's one with braids, and there's one with the bright, blinky eyes of a nocturnal creature caught in the sun (or a tweaker... I'm just saying). But the rest of them are just one big blob of squinty, bandanna-wearing self-indulgence.

Seriously, could you tell them apart? (And when did sleeves become optional on blazers? And who gave these lunkheads a Bedazzler? And how did they know how to use it??)

At least their girlfriends are more individually discernible, although they can mostly be told apart by their bad choices in grooming (as opposed to their bad choices in dudes). There's one with two-tone bi-level hair, one with a mullet, one with piercings along her eyebrow that form the shape of Ursa Minor and one with glasses. I actually like the one with glasses, and I like the no-nonsense blonde who I think might be with Gigantor tool.

Also, in a rare switch for VH1 programming, the women on this show are supportive of one another; I saw a lot of hand-holding and arms on shoulders as they watched their tools act the fool and reacted to the breaches of fidelity and good taste that were on display. 

Already, Tool Academy is casting for the "Class of 2010," and if what I see on MySpace is any indication, there will be no trouble recruiting for years to come. What I'd truly like to see, though, is one of those VH1 mashup shows where they introduce "stars" of other shows into an existing format.

 

Oh, yeah. I see a future Tool Academy valedictorian.