I love this big-ass monkey

Today, I saw King Kong. Holy shit. If I had to sum up that movie in two words, that would be it: Holy shit.

I could see Peter Jackson following the same path as George Lucas and Steven Spielberg, in that he'll keep making these completely amazing movies one right after the other until he reaches the point that hardcore movie geeks will scrutinize his every move. Jackson's past four films have been events more than they've been mere movies. He has succeeded where no one has before: He has made millions of people not only sit through a trilogy of three-hour-plus films, but made us anticipate the four-hour director's cuts a year later. After Lord of the Rings, he could've adapted Webster's Dictionary for the big screen and still made me want to pre-order tickets for the midnight first screening.

Now, he has brought us a three-hour remake of King Kong (the original clocked in at around 90 minutes). In this huge package, Jackson has managed to take action, drama, comedy, horror and fantasy, throw it in a blender and hit 'frappe'. And, much like with Lord of the Rings, he's taken his actors in directions I never thought they'd be capable of. When the first Rings flick came out, I would watch Sam and Frodo and say to myself, "Rudy? And the kid from Flipper?". Now, of course, I watch films like Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind and Sin City and think "NO, FRODO, NO!!!" This time around there's Jack Black...JACK BLACK?!? One of my favorite dramatic performances of the year is coming from Shallow Hal?!?

But one thing that Jackson, I feel, does so much better than every other director out there is character development. There was no way he could have done this in less than three hours. He made a 25-foot gorilla a very complex character. He's a mindless beast, he's a misunderstood soul, he's a protector, he's the golden goose, he's a menacing terror, he's a tragic hero. Where the hell was this kind of storytelling when Godzilla was remade years ago?

A lot of reviews of this flick say that it raises the bar for filmmaking, and while I agree with that, I hope and pray that it is respected as such. But nowadays, so many writers and driectors see that the bar has been raised, and they're perfectly content with playing limbo (cough, cough, Michael Bay, cough). Not to say that I want every movie to come out to have wall-to-wall special effects and a $200 million budget, but for crying out loud, try doing a few extra drafts on the script, will you? With the state of mainstream cinema today, I know that's asking a lot.

In the end, King Kong-in my opinion-can only expose every other movie for what they are: Two hours of mindless distraction with as much depth as a kiddie pool, performed by actors with as much range as a Daisy air rifle.

Can my dark side come out and play?

The other day, I remembered a long conversation I had with some friends back in college. I cannot, for the life of me, recall what brought the subject up, nor do I know what made me think of it now, but the subject was the most painful cause of death. We had to set some ground rules, though. The method of death had to something that was fairly commonplace. This rule had to be set because it just got way too creepy with the things some people were throwing out there (stabbed in the eye while submersed in a vat of ammonia, sandblasted with rock salt, etc.). While it was fun trying to poke holes in people's logic, it was quite possibly the darkest and most psychotic conversation of my life.

One person brought up burning to death, but that was shot down due to the fact that any pain receptors would burn away fairly quickly and it wouldn't hurt anymore. Strangling, suffocation and choking was over way too quick to count as painful, even though the panic of drowning, added the element of painful filling of the lungs with fluid. In the end, we all agreed that massive internal bleeding combined with septsis (sic) of the blood was the most painful method of death. Perhaps a gun shot wound to the gut with the bullet cracking a rib or two on the way in.

Needless to say, I didn't hang out with those people too much after that night. They all took way too much enjoyment out of that conversation.

Again, I don't know why I thought of that. I don't even know why I thought I'd share that. I guess that one less memory I have to worry about repressing.

Clusterfuck

We're right in the middle of printing these catalogs at work. Over two weeks ago, we sent the files to the output bureau. Two days after that, there was a change to the photo on the back cover. I made the change and sent the file to the output bureau and asked them to replace it.

We got the test proof and it looked great. I proceeded in setting up and proofing the other 28 separate covers with the client (in addition to my normal day-to-day workload), safe with the knowledge that everything was gonna be running smoothly with the printing.

Today, my boss asked me to follow him out into the press room to take a look at something. All of the catalogs printed so far had the original photo, not the corrected one I had asked the output bureau to replace it with. Let the panic attack begin.

I was asked to check the plates for the next round of printing. We print in 4 ink colors (cyan, magenta, yellow and black), and each of the different covers requires a change on the black plate only. The black plate had the old image on it, while the other three had the new image. I immediately drove to the output bureau to clear this up.

At moments like this, blame is pointless. All you can do is handle damage control. My boss surpassed pissed and bounced right into eerily calm and in control. Ordinarily, I'd be bleeding from the anus over something like this, but he was taking care of everything. The catalogs that are already printed were accepted by the client at a discount, so no re-printing is required. I had to make sure that the outbut bureau had completely deleted the bad image and only used the good one from now on.

On the other hand, once this job is all done, THEN blame will be assessed. In this case, it's everyone's fault. The output bureau should've deleted the bad image. I should've taken more time to double-check the plates as they came in. The pressmen should've actually paid attention to what they were printing (i.e. compare the color proof to what was coming out of the press) sometime BEFORE they made 15,000 impressions.

So, I'm kinda on thin ice here. My yearly begging for a raise is gonna fall on deaf ears. I'd swear, if this wasn't my only real marketable job skill, I'd be out of this career so fast it's not even funny.

Of course, I'll think differently about this tomorrow.

Nightmares, toenails and dumb dumb people

I know this is gross and all, but last night as I was going to bed, I stubbed my toe on my desk chair. I flicked the light on to see how bad the damage was...lo and behold, it had torn my toenail out completely. It surely looks worse than it feels. In fact, it doesn't hurt at all. Of course, if you had a choice of which part of your body to suddenly lose, this would be the one.

I had a really screwed-up dream last night. Nothing was happeing in the dream, it was just me in my house doing absolutely nothing. However, I had this intense feeling of dread. That was the dream: Just me hanging around the house scared shitless over absolutely nothing. I even woke up in a cold sweat.

Work today was hectic, but productive. I actually heard my boss scream at another employee. I'm used to him being angry, but this was more explosive rage than his usual shit-fit anger. All I could do was close the door to my office, hope I wasn't next on his list, and pray to God he didn't get that concealed weapon permit he was talking about a couple months ago. [please file this paragraph under the "Nightmares" part of the headline, rather than the "dumb dumb people" section.]

Having very little money in the bank, I opted to hit the Chinese buffet for lunch. All you can eat for six bucks? The joke's on them! While I was scarfing down my sesame chicken, I started listening in on the conversation these two guys were having in the next booth. Everything they talked about was current events, but I had the feeling they both just read the headlines and not the actual articles that followed them. If it weren't for the southern drawls and the lo mein, I'd swear I was watching Fox News.

One thing that caught my attention was their debate over a new ski resort that opened in the Middle East (which is true). I kept hearing things like "How do you have snow in the desert?" and "How're they gonna make any money off of that?" and "Them people worry me." After about five minutes of listening to this drivel, I asked for my check in lieu of turning around and explaining to these hicks, "It's indoors, you morons. They build a ski park indoors. They make their own snow. Did you ever stop to think that they'd figure this stuff out before they try to open up a ski resort in the middle of the fucking desert?!? Did you honestly think that wouldn't be a crucial part of their proposal for a business loan?!? Now, eat your egg rolls and shut the hell up, would you please?"

You see, some days I look back on moments like that and say I took the high road, kept my mouth shut and simply left with my dignity intact. However, in this case, I consider that more of a chickenshit move. I like to consider myself a pretty open-minded guy, but this had nothing to do with their opinions. Some people truly just don't know what the hell they're talking about, and damn if that doesn't stop them from talking anyway.

Getting my shit together

My room is, generally speaking, always a pig sty. This weekend, I was fed up with it. So, I set about sorting it all out, and the only way I could ensure that it would get done right was to rearrange the furniture as well. The only problem when I got everything in its place, there was a void. I had left a three foot space along the wall, and I didn't have anything to go there.

The situation presented itself when I went down to Arnie's Saturday night. They were having a drawing for a portable bar...basically a long, narrow folding table with a shelf for alcohol When I showed up, only fifteen people were there, by the time the name was drawn, there were about fifty. The odds were in my favor.

Sure enough, they went to announce the winner: "The winner is Dan....Fffffrrrriiii..." Three or four people, myself included, corrected the guy, "FRITSCHIE!"

The bar fit perfectly in the space I had left in my room. By the time I had everything sorted out on Sunday afternoon, I had a big white trash bag full of junk and another full of old clothes that either don't fit me anymore or are far out of fashion even for me.

I also managed to get caught up on my DVD watching while I was cleaning up. If you have some spring cleaning, I highly reccommend having The Aviator on in the background. If you feel like you're going a little overboard about being a neat-freak, it helps to watch DiCaprio go totally apeshit with OCD. You may be a pack-rat, but at least you're not saving your piss in milk jugs.

Fritschie, the mentor

Not to completely invalidate my last post, but after I last posted, I went out for a drive. I went down to Borders for a coffee and a comedy CD (Mitch Hedberg). While I was in the neighborhood, I cruised over to Colleen and Britt's house and wound up watching Eurotrip with them.

The past couple days at work have been more of the same. Is it sad that now my only real solace is the thought that one day, in a future life, my boss will be just like me working for a guy just like him.

I braved the icy conditions Thursday night and went down to Arnie's. I was one of five people there, and there was this one guy there who I wound up talking to for an hour. He's going to my old alma mater-and by that I mena trade school-and he's going for the same degree I got. This guy was full of the frustration and idealism I had when I went there. He kept complaining about how tough the instructors were towards him...like a BOSS is gonna be any different when he gets out.

It felt good to be in the role of de facto advisor, at least for one night. This guy kept going on and on about how he was unsure if this was what he wanted to do for the rest of his life. I told him that 90% of people in graphic design won't be working in that field ten years down the road. He said he wanted to work in film production. I told him to get the degree, get a decent job and teach himself how to run Maya and Final Cut Pro in his spare time. After a couple years, the degree is just a wall hanging, and what'll get you anywhere is your skills.

Perfect example of what I'm talking about: My buddy Doug got a job once simply because the job objective on his resume was "to use my design skills for good and not evil."

My final advice to this guy went as follows.

1) Inerviewing in Tulsa can be tough; wear a cup.

2) The ability to wear jeans to work, a decent insurance package, the freedom to smart off to your boss and flex time are all worth their weight in gold.

3) Always show the client at least three ideas: one just as they describe how they want it, one that is similar, but actually looks good, and one that is a complete about-face from the previous two.

4) You're never truly burned out until you find yourself screaming at your computer "NO! NEVER AGAIN!". It is advisable to keep yourself away from sledgehammers, axes and other implements of destruction at times like this.

In closing this post, I wish good luck and God speed to my friend Stephen, aka Digital Rebel Without a Cause in his latest deadline fiasco. Hey, man, I'm only a phone call away if you get in a pinch...weekdays after five and weekends.

Too frickin' cold to do anything

The snow started late this afternoon. By the time I was leaving work It was nothing but a fine powder. The cars driving on the road were kicking up the snow and it looked like the northern lights was following everyone whereever they went.

I was supposed to meet some friends for sushi tonight. On my way home I called to check to see if it was still on. They cancelled on me. I got a phone call several minutes later saying it was back on. Before I was gonna get ready to go, they called me back yet again. They took a look outside and said, "Hell,no!"

So, I was left to fend for myself, which meant soup, TV and internet. By the time I went outside fo a smoke, there was an inch of snow on the ground.

I've been flipping back and forth between Daredevil, poker and Food Network. Some nights, it's all about Ben Affleck in red tights, scummy middle-aged guys playing cards, and hot female chefs dipping things in chocolate.

Gags

My friend Aliceson cracks me up. Last week she sent me an email asking for my address, and I gave her this long drawn-out name. True to her nature, I got a Christmas card from her addressed to Daniel Joseph Fritschie-Kennedy-Onassis-Hatfield McCoy III, Esq. I sense a running gag in the making here.

Speaking of gags, tonight I discovered the most bizarre DVD special feature known to mankind. The movie is Taking Lives. I pretty good flick, a tense little twisted piece of mind-fuck. Being a taught little serial-killer thriller, someone please tell me why there is a GAG REEL on the DVD?!? If you happen to catch the DVD, please watch the movie first. Something about first watching the actors flub their lines kinda ruins the film's credibility.

Another kind of gag, this one of the sickly kind...I seriously regret buying the value-sized box of Steak-Ums. I've been running low on food in the cupboard, and this is the only thing left, so I've been burning my way-or should I say lightly grilling my way-through all of the thinly sliced beef steak. When I'm through with this box, so help me, I'll be avoiding Philly cheese steak for at least a year. Ugh.

Good Night and Good Luck

I finally checked out Good Night and Good Luck tonight. For someone like myself who leans to the left politically, this movie was awesome.

If there's any justice in the world, David Strathairn as Edward R. Morrow should win every best actor award known to man. Equal kudos to the rest of the cast, including Ray Wise as Don Hollenbeck, who I hope will be up for best supporting actor.

Almost every article written about this movie is all about how it is a driect commentary on the current political climate, so I won't bore you with the liberal ranting. Speaking as a person leaning to the left politically, I won't deny this at all. In fact, upon leaving the theater I wanted to immediately burn down Fox News HQ.

The message I took from this movie was that those who refuse to learn from history are doomed to repeat it. The big switcheroo between then and now is that the people who are spreading the fear and paranoia aren't just the people in charge, it's also the people paid to talk about it on TV.

The only complaint is that the movie credited Morrow too much in the downfall of Joseph McCarthy, when it was only a small part of it. McCarthy really brought it all upon himself...as I hope and pray will happen to people like Ann Coulter, Rush Limbaugh, Sean Hannity and all of these self-RIGHTeous pricks who think they're made of teflon.

Sick as a dog

Today was super slow, which was perfect given the fact that my head cold was full-blown as of the moment I got out of bed this morning. My boss was even sicker than I was, and that didn't work well for his temper. In an attempt to sway his mood back from the dark side, I offered to grab him some lunch, and it went a little something like this.

Me: "Hey, boss, you have any plans for lunch?"

Boss: "I think I'll puke, then put a bullet in my head."

Me: "Oh, well, at least your afternoon is looking clear."

I got us both some French onion soup from Panera and that seemed to loosen the thorn from the lion's paw. One of our presses broke down late this morning, so the boss was busy putting out that fire to worry about getting job tickets to the art department. No biggie for me, I spent the afternoon cleaning the office and shooting emails back and forth over MySpace (he he he).

My friend Mary called me and told me that she was gonna check about getting me into the Loretta Lynn show for free. She later called me back and told me she couldn't get me on the list. Oh, well, I needed to go home and get some rest.

I took off a half-hour early again today to go home and sleep, but right before I was gonna take a nap, Mary called me again and asked me to come down to the Cain's and record their set using my MP3 recorder. I show up, get the recorder all hooked up and wait for them to start the show. They put on a great show, and sad to say, I only got about half of it recorded because the recorder locked up five times. I think I got three, maybe four songs. I'll have to download the files to the laptop to find out.

I didn't stay for the rest of the show because I promised my friend George I'd come to her birthday party at Hideaway Pizza. By that point I felt like hammered dog shit. Turns out it was mostly low blood sugar because I felt a lot better after downing a heroic dose of lasagna.

And now I'm home and waiting for the NyQuil to kick in. Good night.