A Two Day's Before Xmas Eve Message...

Today's Xmas-themed message is brought to you by General Ursus:

"Your god didn't save you, did he?"

Nope, He didn't.

Songs That Jebus’ Birthin’ Taught Us (Xmas comes early to Ivanlandia...)

The radio-waves are awash with Yuletide songs, and so many Xmas songs are so damn creepy:
Always trying too hard—
All that false cheer—
Methinks you doth protest too much—
All of which is fine with me.
I like the creep and “ick” factor of saccharine-sweet tunes—
A pack of lies like the song “The Most Wonderful Time of the Year” is a hydrogen bomb of pent-up anxieties: How many unfortunates have suicided to that upbeat ditty? Thousands, I’d venture….
It's the most wonderful time of the year
With the kids jingle belling
And everyone telling you "Be of good cheer"
It's the most wonderful time of the year

Because of the subtext of sorrow, anger and madness that I perceive in them, I like many Xmas songs.
It’s just Xmas I don’t like.

Yep, this is the Ivanlandia Xmas post—a few weeks early, yes, but it’s either this or nothing. Get what you get and like it.

Fantasia! (and Uncle Joe...)

So I watched Walt Dizzy’s original 1940 Fantasia the other night—
It was the first time I’d seen the flick since its late-1960s/early-1970s cash-in-on-psychedelia re-release.
And the movie is PRETTY DAMN GOOD STUFF.

I am sure I liked the film more now than when I was a kid: Fantasia wouldn’t have been violent or mayhemic enough for monstrous l’il me, and as an adult I have a greater understanding and appreciation of classical music.



But I couldn’t help but wonder: Did Joseph Stalin ever see Fantasia? He was a known film buff, and if he did see Fantasia, what did he think of it?
I bet Stalin would have liked most of it, especially “The Dance of the Hours.”

But “Night on Bald Mountain”? Not so much, I’d venture. Uncle Joe doesn’t go to the movies to be reminded of his work….

LET'S FIGHT!

La Quinta, California, is where I am right this very minute, and lordy-lordy, is this a boring place.
Sure, the hills that surround it look like the creepy mountains from the opening credits of Wes Craven's The Hills Have Eyes, but I'm here for the DAY JOB, and it's been about 40 degrees out here, and stupid me, thinking that this was Southern California, I wouldn't need a sweater.
It was so cold today, I couldn't take notes because my hands were shaking so much.
Meanwhile, my contempt for some of my co-workers grows by leaps and bounds. I'm angry, lonely, tired, and--except for right now--hungry. "Oh, 'Panky, I'm so hongree!"

All that said, I'm in a foul mood and I want to get into a fight.
So here goes:
Everyone and their mother seems to go on and on about how great the film Bigger Than Life is, but man-oh-man, was I borrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrred.
Usually I love actors doing the thesp thing and chewing the scenery, usually I love a vitrolic criticism of bourgeois values, and usually I'm a monstro fan of the great James Mason (who, screenwriter Heywood Gould once told me, tried to get
Olivier fired from The Boys From Brazil so he could get the Simon Wiesenthal role--Mason would go to director Franklin Schaffner (a filmmaker who deserves more respect if you ask me--the guy made Planet of the Apes, Patton and Papillion (as well as liking movies starting with the letter "P")) and say to him, "Oh my, Olivier looks ill, doesn't he? How is he ever going to complete such a strenuous role?" and so on.)
RANDOM ASIDE: So is this how most bloggers do it, huh, just start typing, just start spewing?

My biggest problem with Bigger Than Poop was how Mason's character goes from shlub to psycho in about a nanosecond. There was never any build-up: one minute Mason's sick, the next he's bonkers!

Anyhoo, because every single film geek says Bigger Than Life is the shit, I rented it. And I hated it. So, if anyone is reading (hello, my loyal followers: obey me and the afterlife will be an eternal patadize!),
please explain (or leave URLs) why this overwrought slice of dullsville is so loved?

Addition: Oh, NOW I get it. In doing R&D for this missive, I noticed on wikipedalpusher that Ivanlandia Enemy #1, Jean-Puke Godfart, just loves Bigger Than Turd. Now I get it. Sheesh...

I really need to get a new job.