Confessions of a spendthrift

Things I've actually spent good money on recently:

• A second copy of Top Gun on DVD. I've heard Quentin Tarantino's homoerotic theories a hundred times, and seen this movie dismissed as worthless cheese and blatant Navy propaganda. And I don't care. It's one of the best action movies of its generation, endlessly quotable and well-written. And when I popped my first-run DVD into my Blu-Ray player, I was anticipating some escapist retro bliss. Which I got, but on only half my screen, since apparently including the widescreen and fullscreen versions of the movie on the same side of the DVD downgraded the quality too much. Clearly, this would not do; I need to see Mav and Goose "communicating" with the Russians in as high a definition as possible. So off to Amazon I clicked, and ponied up ten bucks for a more recent version. It arrived in the mail the other day, and is one of the best purchases I've made in years.


• Also in the Amazon box? Fist of Legend, a movie I had never seen, but that the internet seems to regard as Jet Li's finest effort. I'm hesitant to annoint the internet as the expert on anything, but in this case, it's right on the money. I enjoyed the hell out of it, but at the same time it made me a little frustrated with the fight scenes in today's movies. The zoomed-in cameras and split-second cuts make it impossible to get any sense of the fight, or the speed and skill of the guys hitting each other. I'm not sure who to blame for this. Maybe the Bourne trilogy?


• Late registration for a 5K "fun" run. At 9,000 feet of altitude. My lunatic sister was running a half-marathon, and somehow talked my dad and I into running the 5K race held on the same course. She ran a personal-best time; I discovered that I have masochistic tendencies, and reaffirmed that I really, really, really hate running. I finished, and immediately swore it wasn't something I would ever do again unless I start getting fat and have no other options for staying fit. I'd like to say that I got some good bonding time in with my dad, but it's hard to have a conversation when you're both sucking wind and trying to ignore the burning in your legs.


• The Forger's Spell. I'm only halfway through and I have almost zero interest in art, but I can't possibly recommend this book any more highly. It alternates interesting historical chapters about the Nazi's art looting program with absolutly fascinating discussions on how art forgers fool experts. Two big thumbs up, and more money well-spent.

So that's the update on my smoking credit card. I'd claim that I'm going to take it easy for a while now, but I'm going shopping for iPhones tomorrow...

Chicken proof

Lest anyone doubt the veracity of last night's claims:

ESPNightmares

I just finished watching the Monday Night Football doubleheader on ESPN, which means that I've now seen the replay of Tom Brady's knee turning to spaghetti roughly 5,000 times. I'm not usually one to cry out, "Won't someone think of the children?!?", but what the hell is ESPN trying to do here? It gets worse every time I see it, and I'm not even remotely a Patriots fan. The only thing I can think of is that they're trying to stimulate television sales in Boston. I imagine Bill Simmons took a blunt object to his flatscreen about 3,000 replays ago.

One of the most traumatic moments of my childhood was watching Denver Broncos running back Gerald Wilhite get his foot twisted 270 degrees in the wrong direction on national television over... and over... and over again thanks to a sadistic replay operator. Everyone in my dad's generation can tell you all about Lawrence Taylor snapping Joe Theisman's leg, and younger sports fans will still shudder if you mention Willis McGahee's knee injury (click here if you feel like vomiting). And now I'm going to be seeing Brady crumple to the ground in my sleep for a month. Thanks, guys.

In other news of the hideously ugly, our neighbors have recently purchased (or fashioned) a six foot-tall statue of a rooster made of chrome car parts. They put it up in their backyard, presumably to frighten squirrels or school children or something. Not content to ugly up the daytime view from our back deck, they also installed lighting to illuminate that motherfucker at night. Seriously. There's six feet of angry metallic poultry gleaming outside my window right now. I object to homeowners' associations on general principle, but I'm staring to see how some people might think they'd be a good idea. If I were more adventurous (or inebriated), the urge to decorate it would be damn well overpowering. Maybe that's why they put in the lighting?