Magick Mini Movie Reviews

Here at Magick Sandwich, we watch crap so you don't have to.

Yes, I'm talking about Paul Blart: Mall Cop.

That's one of the best sight gags in the movie, so if you're not a connoisseur of the chubster pratfall, you should spare yourself the expense of renting it.

My first warning was the description on the Netflix sleeve. I expected it to be positive. After all, this was coming from the company renting me the film. Netflix called it a "laffer." When the best term to describe a comedy isn't even a real word, you know you're in trouble.

You might wonder why I rented this movie at all. I enjoyed The King of Queens. (Don't judge.) Kevin James does good bumbling fat boy physical comedy. His comic timing is pretty good. I know I'm not going to blow soda out of my nose at any of the jokes but I may chuckle a time or two. That's all I ask of this type of movie.

On the other hand, I have no plans to rent Pink Panther 2.

Why? First, because I never thought the original Panther movies were funny. Second, because I believe Steve Martin is a comic genius. I was an original member of the Wild & Crazy Guy Fan Club. I have been a fan of Steve Martin since I was fourteen and saved my baby-sitting money to go see him do stand-up at the 1979 New York State Fair.

He's cat juggling. Can't you tell?

Steve Martin still has the capacity to break my heart. I die a little inside every time he wastes himself on terrible material. The same gags that give me a laugh in another cheesy flick will only cause me pain when performed by Mr. Martin. He is a master of physical comedy and I love him for it. But when that's all there is, it's like watching a prostitute. I can't believe he is enjoying the act.

So until Steve Martin makes a funny movie again, there is Paul Blart: Mall Cop.


But wait! There's more!

Slumdog Millionaire is not a comedy and is thus outside my purview, but its multiple Oscars don't lie. Danny Boyle has turned Mumbai slum life into a popcorn flick: quite an achievement.

But I would recommend Rohinton Mistry's book, A Fine Balance, in its stead. The beauty of his prose in the teeth of grim reality makes Slumdog look one-dimensional in comparison. You may not share my low-brow comedy tolerance, but you can trust my advice on this.

Poor Impulse Control

Have you ever thought of walking up and pants-ing guys who sag?
It's tempting, but could be detrimental to one's health.

Bloomberg Declares Burberry Day: WTF?

I received this announcement via email this morning.

Mayor Bloomberg has declared today, May 28, Burberry Day in New York City. Are you kidding me? Supposedly, it's in honor of Burberry's continued investment in our fair city.

The fifty foot logo on top of the new headquarters at 444 Madison Avenue will be lit to commemorate the occasion. The building used to be the home of New York magazine. (I wonder if New York ever had an official day.) Burberry commemorates the demolition of that bit of history on its website. Fun!

I hope it rains all day today so New Yorkers can show off their spiffy Burberry rain gear. And my mouth, hanging open at the sheer absurdity of it all, will fill with raindrops. I'll be hydrated all day.

P.S. Are we really going to elect this guy for a third term?

Karl Rove vs. James Carville

Last night, I attended the debate between Karl Rove and James Carville at Radio City Music Hall in New York City. Charlie Rose served as referee.
A small group of protesters milled around outside, calling for Rove's indictment for war crimes. Maybe the forecast of rain kept them away. In any case, no one seemed to care. One of the security guards even did a little hip sway in time with their chanting.

Inside the packed auditorium, we were exhorted to be respectful of others' opinions and to "behave." Aside from a few protesters disrupting the proceedings--most notably, a woman who strode onstage brandishing a pair of handcuffs, then mugged for the cameras as she was sandwiched by security guards and pushed into the wings--we New Yorkers kept our cool. Mostly.

Karl Rove put his foot in his mouth early on when Charlie Rose asked him his opinion about President Obama's nomination of Sonia Sotomayor to the Supreme Court.

Rove stated that she will be confirmed, but demurred when Charlie said Sotomayor is very bright. When Charlie protested that she had graduated from Princeton and Yale Law, Rove said, "I know lots of stupid people who went to Ivy League schools." I found myself laughing and yelling "yes, you do" while most of the crowd roared at the unintended hilarity of Rove's statement.

When Charlie asked about the current scandal regarding Nancy Pelosi and the CIA, Rove went on about how gravely important this issue is, that the documents must be brought to light and made one of many straight-faced references to following "the rule of law."

Carville turned to the audience and said, "Why don't we name an agent?" He was referring to Rove's own dealings with the CIA in naming Valerie Plame as a CIA agent. Plame's husband was a journalist who had reported that there were no signs of WMDs in Iraq.

Sadly, Carville's words got lost amid an exchange between Rose and Rove. My husband asked me what he'd said because I was clapping. Unfortunately, Carville didn't repeat himself and turned to saying it was a meeting that happened seven years ago and doesn't matter. When Charlie asked him how he would have advised Pelosi, he said he would've had her say "I don't recollect being told..." which reminded me of Bill Clinton's famous parsing of what "is" is.

The Katrina issue finally got Rove and Carville yelling and pointing in each other's faces, as Rove insisted that Bush had responded immediately by informing the governor of Louisiana that he was in charge. He also criticized the mayor of New Orleans.

Carville pounded his armrests, shouting that there was video of Bush being told that he was going to lose a city and that he didn't ask a question, that he left in the middle of the meeting to go ride a bike. He also said, "The mayor couldn't do anything. He was under eight feet of water." When Rove responded sagely that since then, Louisiana had elected another Republican governor, I wanted to scream, "That's because there was no one left to vote against him!"

I held my tongue so I wouldn't get bounced and got to hear Carville return to his favorite theme for the evening: Republican excuses. Clinton had left the country with a surplus but somehow the economy was his fault. The war was Clinton's fault. Bush's deficit was now Obama's fault."Take responsibility," he said. "It's bad for the children to see this."

When Rove stated that Clinton would be nothing more than a footnote in history, Carville laughed and said that Bush would certainly never be a footnote and said his presidency would be remembered for "massive incompetence."

I didn't get to hear Carville utter his famous line--originally about Hamilton Jordan--"I wouldn't piss down his throat if his heart was on fire." But Carville's words of sympathy for Rove at the end of the evening were just as satisfying.

"I know what it's like for Karl. He's got to defend Bush, just him and Cheney. I have to defend eight bad minutes. He has to defend eight bad years. I feel for you, buddy."

To Reconstitute Man?

I can't figure out Reader's Digest Condensed Books. When I add water, they just turn into a soupy mess.

I would think they would've improved the technology by now.

Keeping America's Troops Safe

I'm an avid consumer. Yes, you may thank Magick Sandwich for keeping our economy moving. Like a freight train. Or a bowel movement. Occasionally, I like to recoup some of my losses by selling used books, games and such on Amazon. Recently, I sold one of my husband's Xbox 360 games, Frontlines: Fuel of War.

Here's part of the game's description on Amazon:

Frontlines: Fuel of War is an open-world First Person Shooter set on the frontlines of tomorrow. In a world ravaged by a global energy crisis, environmental decay and economic depression, players assume the role of an elite soldier in the Western Coalition Army on an epic crusade against the Red Star Alliance to control the last of the world's oil reserves. This title combines cinematic, non-linear game play, with next generation firepower and the Frontline Combat System to deliver an intense FPS.

There's nothing hinky about selling used video and computer games through Amazon, whether they're violent or not. Amazon encourages it and posts resellers' offers on the same page with its new offering. It's part of what makes listing an item so easy, as opposed to using eBay's system. In any case, I've been doing it for years and it beats the hell out of any trade-in value I could get at a place like Gamestop.

I package it up and run it to the post office. My first sign of trouble is that the automated machine rejects the zip code so I have to wait on line for a clerk. This is always the seventh circle of hell, except I imagine Satan has a more efficient check-in system. Geological time periods later, I am at the window being told that the zip code belongs to a military relay station which normally ships overseas. As such, even though it is on U.S. soil, it is considered an international destination and all mail is subject to search by U.S. Customs.

Since I've already told her the package contains a video game, she says it will probably be red-flagged as material too violent or obscene to be shipped abroad. Amazon's own rules do not permit video games or "adult" material to be shipped overseas by sellers but it does not account for a situation such as this.

The clerk and I are in agreement about the foolishness of our government trying to "protect" a U.S. serviceman from a war game he wants to play. She says she'll ship it anyway and I should keep my fingers crossed that it doesn't get searched.

I return home and email the customer through Amazon to let him know what's up and find out where the game's final destination will be.

Order ID: 058-xxxxx
* Item: 1 of Frontlines: Fuel of War [CD] [Xbox 360]
************************
Subject: Shipment notification from Amazon seller kathcom
-------------- Begin message ---------------------

I took your game to the post office yesterday. They told me I needed a customs declaration on it because it might go overseas. I'm not sure the game will make it through customs, which has all sorts of rules about sending obscene material.

I think it would be pretty ironic if you are not allowed to receive a war game because it's deemed to have obscene levels of violence in it.

Please let me know if you don't receive this within 7-9 business days.

Thanks-

K
-------------- End message ------------------------

A few hours later, I get this response.

K,

Yeah it is going to be going to iraq. So when would you know if the game doesn't get shipped??

C

I write back and tell him to let me know if he doesn't get it within two weeks and I'll issue a refund. If he gets it after that, I tell him to consider it a gift.

A few weeks later, he emails me and tells me he got it. I understand that it's odd to hope that he enjoys this game when he's in a war zone himself, but I do. I'm glad that with the inattention of U.S. Customs, we have trumped a ridiculous prohibition.

By the way, the designation given to this dangerous game by the Entertainment Software Rating Board (ESRB)? T for TEEN.


So this game is readily available to a kid with nary a hair on his chinny chin chin, but when a guy who's in an actual war wants to buy it, it gets treated like an IED? I think the horse may have left the barn on this one.

I know of only one way to keep our troops safe: bring them home. Happy Memorial Day, everybody.

Feck is Back!

Whatever happened to Evelyn Wood? It's okay, I'll wait till you finish....

7 Signs I'm Getting Old

1. I'm not sure if I'm middle-aged because I don't know when I'm going to die. But with every birthday, the conceit gets closer to science fiction.

2. Two years ago, my husband and I went to Madison Square Garden to hear Ozzy Osbourne. We were deaf for three days afterward and decided (à la Danny Glover) that we were "getting too old for this shit."

Next week, we're going to Radio City Music Hall to hear Karl Rove debate James Carville. I am so stoked. If Carville says my favorite line, "I wouldn't piss down his throat if his heart were on fire," I'm going to throw my bra onstage.

3. We're big boxing fans. We saw the first Mickey Ward v. Arturo Gatti fight from the third row. We could smell the blood. I used to box with a personal trainer for fun. Now I get tired out after three rounds of boxing...on the Wii. I can taste the blood.

4. I consider a good bowel movement a major accomplishment. Not because I'm constipated, just because it's creative.

5. If I ever lose my mind, I want to make sure I'm still patriotic. So my Living Will stipulates that my caregivers dress me in the following shirt.


6. When I die, I want to be buried in Florida. I'll finally own real estate that even Disney can't build on. That's power.

7. I want my tombstone to say this:


Then again, maybe I'd rather it say something simple, like this:


I can't decide, you see. I'm getting old.

By the numbers:
7 Good Band Names
9 Ways to Prevent Your Own Valentine's Day Massacre

Sandwich Fixins

At almost every supermarket checkout counter, there are signs saying, "Go Green. Skip the Plastic." If plastic bags are so bad, shouldn't we give this advice to dog owners as well? I'm only saying this because I would love to take a walk and see people bent over, fingers spread like a catcher's mitt, waiting to catch the steaming pile dropping from their pooch's ass. That would be very entertaining for me.

*****

Years ago, I accompanied my husband to the New York Auto Show. Manufacturers pay people to lurk around taking notes about visitors' reactions. They're not presenters; they're supposed to blend in. Sometimes you can tell who they are as I did when waxing rhapsodic about a Supercharger prototype that never made it into production. The poor guy was madly scribbling, trying to keep up.

So when we got to the Mercedes exhibit, I started asking, very loudly, "Where's Hitler's staff car?" I aimed the question at no one in particular. I saw no presenter. I repeated myself several times, hoping to flush out the secret representative. Eventually, my husband hustled me away and ended my impromptu demonstration of support for Holocaust survivors and, by extension, all Jews, many of whom drive Mercedes.

I've been telling this story ever since. It's short, sweet and totally true. But some morons at this year's show decided to heckle a Chrysler spokesmodel as if she ran the company. So now I have to give a whole backstory to show that I wasn't harassing anyone. Thanks to those assholes, my story will never be funny again.

*****

Wanda Sykes caught some flak for wishing Rush Limbaugh's kidneys would fail. She was speaking at the White House Correspondents' Dinner at the time, and the context of the joke was her reaction to Limbaugh's wish for Obama to fail. She also said Rush might have been one of the hijackers on 9/11 but was so messed up on Oxycontin that he missed his flight. Plus she shares how she'd torture Sean Hannity. It's pretty sweet. Watch it here. It's over fifteen minutes long but well worth your time.

*****

Why use Wynonna Judd in an ad for Alli, a weight loss drug? Is it so fat people won't feel pressured to actually lose weight? This is ingenious advertising that says, "We're not even trying to kid you that you'll ever be able to stop shopping in Dress Barn." It persuades people to buy a drug while lowering their expectation of eventual success.
P.S. Alli makes you shit your pants. Now you know what Wynonna Judd is probably doing right now.

Related posts:
Sandwich Fixins -- January 2009
Sandwich Fixins -- September 2008

High Brow, Low Brow, Meet-me-in-the-Middle Brow

New York magazine has posted a story on its website about Michelle Obama's eyebrows, ostensibly to praise and compare them to those of her makeup artist. You can read it here. This is just the validation I was looking for to confirm that my opinion on this matters.
Now that they mention it, MObama's brows are a bit RuPaul for my taste. Some say they make her look angry. (Yes, people say this and other people apparently listen.) They could be a verbal fist bump to the LGBT crowd or a way to honor the film oeuvre of John Waters.
Or it could be the classic mistake that women with high foreheads make, just filling in that space to avoid looking like a beluga whale sans blowhole. I'm not sure. She gets a lot of praise for her fashion sense, too. To me, she looks like she was wearing a smock when the Crayola factory blew up, then forgot to take it off. And um, oh yeah...who cares?

*****

Taking a break from the brow issue for a moment, I'd like to mention something else that bothers me. Angelina Jolie's hands don't match her face. Have you noticed?
In this photo, she looks like the Crypt Keeper is trying to grab her by the throat. I'd bet if you touched her, those ropy veins would explode and she'd bleed out before your eyes.

*****

Of course, a snotty post comme ça would be incomplete without a mention of Susan Boyle's tweezing and general makeover. Her "after" photo ignited debate over whether only chavs wear Burberry plaid. (Seriously.)
Lovely voice notwithstanding, in either shot she looks like a cafeteria lunch lady to me. She may have fewer grays after her trip to the salon but I still picture her in a hairnet using an ice cream scoop to serve mashed potatoes. That said, let's give the poor woman a break. She's British, after all. We should be happy all her teeth point in more or less the right direction and don't have moss on them.

In closing, I hate to say this about someone I so admire...but Kathy Griffin, I just don't get it.
Your body work looks so good! Why didn't your surgeon leave enough skin on your face so you could blink your eyelids without testing the tensile strength of your scalp?
Miss Griffin, I know you have spoken out about your botched surgery since, but did you know that the prick who did your brow lift is still advertising it with your People interview from 2003? Outrageous!

I feel so much better now. Don't you?

Equally deep posts:
Angelina Jolie, Beautiful Freakshow
Hollywood Breakup Shocker...Not!

Scent of a Yeoman

Be a Trekkie or just smell like one with this new cologne from Genki Wear.

Other scents in the series include Tiberius to help one emulate the je ne sais quois of a certain starship captain who's popular with all manner of space booty.

For the ladies, there is Pon Farr, named for the famed estrus cycle in which Vulcans must mate or die. So apply with caution before a night on the town. But remember, Pon Farr only happens every seven years. Be careful what you wish for. And be patient.

If your girlfriend gives you Red Shirt, she may be getting ready to push you out the airlock. Its tagline reads: Because tomorrow may never come. You may be an extra in your own life. Know this, you will not become a series regular.

Whichever scent you choose, snap it up in a hurry. You haven't much time to douse yourself, covering the musty scent of your parents' basement, and get to the nearest theater.


More Trek:
This Day in History

Happy Anniversary, Magick Sandwich!

Cinco de Mayo, swine flu and Susan Boyle cannot dampen my spirits on this, the anniversary of the birth of Magick Sandwich. I can hardly believe it's been a whole year. To celebrate, I thought I would trot out an old post from May '08. It was a lonely time of sincere effort and little notice.

I like my post about how Bill O'Reilly Cures Depression for its links to truly mood-lifting sites and felt a thrill writing Reduce Your Carbon Footprint-Don't Breed! until I realized no one had read it. Best Suicide Note Ever is just that.

But the post that still gets hits a year later is my piece about Louise Hay. It seems that Googlers who feel the need for her advice are searching her name +warts, +tinnitus, +tapeworm, etc. Even the person who Googled "i am a stupid bitch" got sent here. (The reason becomes clear in the Comments section.)

So without further ado, I cough up, like a year-old hairball:

More Louise Hay Garbage

I admit that I've whored around the Self-Help section of life's cosmic bookstore, looking for answers. But since perfectionism can lead to procrastination, I stopped. Serial killers tend to have high self-esteem, too, but I found that out in the Psychology section, Self-Help's educated relative a few shelves down.

But there's one old mindfuck that keeps coming back and chafing my brain like a mental herpes sore. Her name is Louise Hay. I bought her book, You Can Heal Your Life, in the late 1980's. (Hey, the Eighties were a bad time for a lot of us- don't judge me.) Among other things, she said that we choose our parents before we're born. Don't consider the logistics of that for too long or your head may explode. We also mentally cause all of our own physical problems and can cure them with a little affirmation. My cat puked on the bookcover. Was he trying to tell me something? In Louise Hay's universe, maybe. I loathed that book. It sold millions.

Now I see that she has a new book. From the look of her website photo, she invested my $12.99 in bad plastic surgery. Affirmations can't cure that any more than she can wish back her shit-canned facial skin. Since I won't be contributing to the sales of her new book, I thought it would be fair to share some thoughts from her first one. (I ripped off the cover and kept it. God, I miss that puke stain.) Here are a few of Louise Hay's diagnoses for mental causes of physical problems.

Warts: "Little expressions of hate. Belief in ugliness."
Tinnitus: "Refusal to listen.Not hearing the inner voice. Stubbornness."
Multiple Sclerosis: "Mental hardness, hard-heartedness, iron will, inflexibility. Fear."
Ingrown Toenail: "Worry and guilt about your right to move forward."
Tapeworm: "Strong belief in being a victim and unclean. Helpless to the seeming attitudes of others."

Of course, I don't want to spoil the ending for you by writing down Ms. Hay's cures. But I must make one exception. If you or anyone you know is currently suffering from gangrene ("Mental morbidity. Drowning of joy with poisonous thoughts") apply this information immediately: I now choose harmonious thoughts and let the joy flow freely through me. Repeat this new thought pattern to yourself several times.Assume that you are already in the process of healing.

Please, Ms. Hay, forgive me for using your sacred text! I feel it is my duty to pass on your healing message! Sufferers must be free from the bondage of Western medicine and learn that they have only themselves to blame! They must think, think, think their way to health. (Oh, and they must buy your books,too. But Ms. Hay, since you gave us all the tools in the first one, why did you need to write another? Have you been holding out on us?)

Please remember, dear reader, if the snake oil you're drinking tastes bitter, maybe you're just not drinking the right brand!

N.B. I'm working on a project of my own: If We All Concentrate, We Can Give This Charlatan Bitch Cancer.

********This would be no fun without the Comments Section, reproduced here********

9 COMMENTS:

Anonymous said...

You are so negative you probably have halitosis. And live a miserable life.

Do you really want to wish cancer on someone? A cancer survivor at that?

You are a stupid bitch.

July 16, 2008 8:55 PM

kathcom said...

Thank you, Anonymous, for your insightful analysis.

A key point here is that I don't actually believe that I can wish a disease on anyone any more than I believe that I can cause my own. Do you?

BTW, how did you know that "I am a stupid bitch" is my daily affirmation? You must be psychic!

Thanks for sharing.

July 17, 2008 12:44 PM

Anonymous said...

Since I am someone whose life has been incredible affected by Louise Hays teachings I would say that there is definetly a psyco emotional connection to all dis-easse...

That you don't want to hear what is being said does not mean that it isn't so... to see the connection would mean to have to look deep into the self and then to do some work...which is seems that you are not willing to do.

I work with many people and when they do look at the connections and see that there is some truth to what is being said - healing on a very large scale occurs...

and the fact that you would wish cancer on anyone says more about you than anything else...

om shanti

September 1, 2008 4:02 PM

Anonymous said...

forgot to mention that I was diagnosed with lupus and asthma...both in Louise's book are about not wanting to live....

that was in 1990 I have been dis-ease free for the last 13 years and my doctor finally said that if she didn't have all my tests in front of her - she would say that I never had Lupus at all....and THEY...the medical field say it's not curable...

go figure

September 1, 2008 4:04 PM

kathcom said...

anonymous, I am very happy to hear that you no longer suffer from lupus and asthma. This is a wonderful thing, no matter what belief you ascribe to it.

You've made the assumption that I haven't looked deep inside of myself and done some work. You must think I'm riddled with disease.

Again, I am going to say that I do NOT believe that I can wish cancer on someone. It is wishful thinking as is apparently my wish for would-be mystics to understand the use of irony.

In any case, if in the future you come down with a cold or get a wart, I hope you will not feel that you have failed in your vigilant affirmations.

Since you use the "om" I assume you have done enough study to see that in certain philosophies "dis-ease" is seen as a natural part of life.

By the way, I know people who have lupus and asthma. I must go tell them that Louise Hay says they don't want to live and they need to be positive and say some affirmations. By your "reasoning" they should start feeling better, right?

Just as a side note: just as the placebo effect exists, so does spell-check. Please avail yourself of it for the good of all.

omg chancre

September 2, 2008 9:28 AM

Anonymous said...

This poster appears to have suffered because of never reading Berne's Games People Play, It won't cure him/her but at least a little self awareness might help

December 23, 2008 11:18 PM

Anonymous said...

A second reading of the original post gave me a clue to what this posters problem was....mental herpes? Had it checked? Mind Fuck? Sounds like a worrying aftermath of a bad night with a less than clean partner playing on your mind perhaps? Doctors can check for that, dont "self-help" it, ask one to take a look down below!

December 23, 2008 11:38 PM

Anonymous said...

To Kathcom, care to test it?
You said "A key point here is that I don't actually believe that I can wish a disease on anyone any more than I believe that I can cause my own", want to pick a mild one? If so, try standing in front of the mirror for 30 straight days and tell yourself you look terrible, have a cold, droopy Rheumy eyes, flaccid skin, a down expression OUT LOUD, Just once a morning should do the trick...then let us all know in 30 days time please the outcome! Did it happen? I bet you never reply!

December 23, 2008 11:42 PM

kathcom said...

Dear Anonymous the Third:
How's this for a deal? I'll stand in front of a mirror and wish myself sick if you'll stand in front of your mirror and wish yourself smart.

Since it's cold and flu season anyway, which one of us has the better chance?

December 29, 2008 5:25 PM

More Billboard Fun

Friday's as good a day as any for some food-based, sacrilegious signage!

Related post:
Existential Billboard Placement