I was just looking over the comments on Reel Girl's post and saw someone mention Gremlins (The first one.). Damn, another one I hadn't thought about. Mental note to pick up the DVD soon to add the holiday collection.
Incomplete Top 10: Christmas Movies That Aren't It's a Wonderful Life
Found this link through imdb. Heard of E, never heard of Reel Girl. At any rate, her top ten...
1. Love Actually - Excellent choice. This movie works on so many levels it's not even funny. 2. The Family Stone - Another good one. Still, despite its holiday setting, I don't think of it as a "Christmas movie," in the same way I don't think of Home for the Holidays as a "Thanksgiving movie." 3. Trading Places - Another killer flick, another movie I've never thought of as a Christmas movie. 4. Emmet Otter's Jug Band Christmas - Here's where she loses me. I'm a huge fan of Emmet Otter (And all Muppet movies/shows in general regardless of holiday theme.), but this was a TV (HBO?) special, not a "movie." If the definition of movie is on a sliding scale, where's Rudolph? Where's a Muppet Family Christmas for that matter? Besides, everyone knows the pinnacle of Muppet Christmas movies is The Muppet Christmas Carol. ;) 5. Home Alone - My 7-Up of Hollywood - never seen it, never will. 6. Die Hard - A couple days ago I was pondering why I hadn't included Die Hard in my yearly Christmas Movie ritual. Good choice Reel Girl - score two for Alan Rickman. 7. National Lampoons Christmas Vacation - Required holiday viewing. 8. A Christmas Story - I get the feeling she included this one on the list to save her ass from being rode out on a rail. Peer pressure's a bitch, but this should have rated much, much higher. 9. Funny Farm - Chevy Chase outside of a National Lampoon movie is a sad, sad thing. 10. You tell me! - She left this open for comments, which is a cop-out in itself. But since she asked...
Bad Santa - I list this one first because she mentioned it in the article. This is a movie that I never thought I would like despite being a huge Billy Bob Thornton fan. After one viewing I was hooked.
Elf - How she left Elf off the list is beyond me. Few movies become instant classics, Elf is one of them.
Rudolph the Red Nosed Reindeer - If Emmet Otter makes the list, Rudolph does too. It's an hour and a half long - by Reel Girl's standards, that constitutes a movie.
The Polar Express - Close to, but not quite, an instant classic.
The Muppet Christmas Carol - I've already mentioned it earlier, but for my money, TMCC is the finest Muppet production A.H. (After Henson). Which is not to say that A Muppet Family Christmas, or A Very Muppet Christmas aren't awesome in their own right.
I've got a few more to add to this list, but I'm bored now so I'll stop.
Saturday night, the Belltown club was packed once again for sets by Robin Pecknold, J. Tillman and David Bazan, with the usual "Croc" good times under way and the bar doing brisk business. Nothing suggested that those in the crowd were witnesses to the venerable music venue's last waltz.
Owner Stephanie Dorgan, who could not be reached Monday, left voice mail messages with club employees Sunday telling them they should not report for work any longer -- the Crocodile Cafe has been closed because of financial difficulties. - More
I only hit the Crocodile a few times, but each time I was there I had a blast. Bummer.
Gather around the pixelated fire kids, Uncle m/a/z/e has a Christmas story to tell. The bulk of this post is cribbed from an e-mail to John, but, alas, the story needs to be shared.
Like good atheists, we picked up our Christmas tree last weekend - a week or two late for my tastes as I have something of a religious/OCD ritual of picking up the tree the day after Thanksgiving, but road trips and life intervened. The plan was to hit the grocery stores in Reno and grab a tree once we arrived home in Tahoe. That was the plan at least.
Turning onto the Tahoebahn (431 for the uninitiated) we spot a sign, "Oregon Trees." Sweet. A tree and a chance to represent 503? In the immortal words of Butthead, "We're there dude." A quick lane change and right hand turn, and we're browsing the homegrown Douglas Firs.
The farmer guys selling the trees brought the lot from somewhere around Eugene - two fully-loaded Fords and a horse trailer full (Which left us wondering how they got past the fruit/vegetable/plant check at the California border.)
At any rate, the selection is pretty good and we go about picking out a five-six foot tree. As we have to haul the tree up and over Mt. Rose, we ask about getting one that's already been twined up. By this point the farmer dudes have discovered that we are displaced Oregonians (Term stolen from John) and starts digging around for a, quote, "bushy one." Bushy is good, I can deal with bushy.
An appropriately bushy tree is found and the guys throw the tree on top of the car. For the next few minutes I entertain them in my pathetic attempt to bungee the tree to the car - luckily Molliwogg saves the day and tethers the tree on tight while I inquire if anyone is interested in a set of second-hand testicles.
The drive home was fine, Molliwogg's bungee job worked like a charm.
Our first indication something was wrong happened as we attempted to remove the tree from the roof. After sliding the tree off the roof, the whole thing slipped through our hands and crashed to the ground nearly taking a few toes with it. Hmmm. I'm used to trees that can more or less be moved with one hand, still, this tree has been sitting outside for a while, maybe it was just frozen.
It took about ten minutes to get the tree indoors - "carrying" in the traditional sense was impossible, instead we had to do this keeled-over shuffle while hugging the tree at either end. I swear I could feel various muscles in my back separating in the process.
We finally got the tree inside and laid it on its side in the entryway. Quick smoke break and we're ready to put the tree back into a vertical position. Erecting a tree isn't exactly a complicated process, but like the Energizer bunny, this tree just kept going, and going, and going...
If you haven't figured it out by now, our 5-6 foot tree is, in actuality, a 9-11 foot freaking Redwood. Apparently my fellow Oregonians have a different idea of what "bushy" means than I do. The plastic tree stand that served us faithfully for years lasted all of a second under the full weight of Treezilla. Crap.
A quick assessment of the situation and we run over to Ace Hardware and pick up one of the industrial-strength metal tree stands I spied on my last visit. We get back home, transfer the tree from stand to stand and, even with a new stand, Treezilla refuses to be restrained. We have beams running across out ceiling so we wedge the top of the tree against one and finally the leaning tree of Sodom is still.
After another smoke break - this time spent cursing our farmer friends - we return downstairs to cut the twine. No fewer than three people who have heard this story expected a repeat of National Lampoon's Christmas Vacation, but it wasn't meant to be. Our tree was frozen solid and maintained it's shape. Over the course of a few hours the tree melted enough to "bloom," decreasing the size of our living room in the process.
Now, I'm not exactly the tallest guy in the world, I'm closer to average than short, but I now know what a hobbit feels like. It's a little intimidating having a tree in the house that you know every time you walk by it's thinking, "If I fall on you, you're dead." Bully.
It took us three days to decorate Treezilla, its murderous intent made all the more absurd with twinkling lights and ornaments - something akin to Hannibal Lecter in a Easter Bunny suit. Still, I have no idea how I'm going to get this monster out of our house once the new year arrives.
So that's my Christmas story. The moral being, don't trust that Oregonians know what the word "bushy" means unless they're talking about hippy armpits.
Over the years, various people have read various meanings into the oversized and ornately lit martini glass that beams down over Portland each holiday season.
To some, the West Hills fixture is a familiar symbol of Christmas cheer. To others, it's an homage to Portland's anti-establishment ethos. To a few, it's unfortunate encouragement to party too hard this time of year.
The real story behind the glass-and-metal display is simpler, and sweeter. - OregonLive
I'm all right jack, keep your hands off my stack...
To such the State renders comparatively small service, and a slight tax is wont to appear exorbitant, particularly if they are obliged to earn it by special labor with their hands. If there were one who lived wholly without the use of money, the State itself would hesitate to demand it of him. But the rich man - not to make any invidious comparison - is always sold to the institution that makes him rich. Absolutely speaking, the more money, the less virtue; for money comes between a man and his objects, and obtains them for him; and it was certainly no great virtue to obtain it. It puts to rest many questions which he would otherwise be taxed to answer; while the only new question which it puts is the hard but superfluous one, how to spend it. Thus his moral ground is taken from under his feet. The opportunities of living are diminished in proportion as what are called the "mean" are increased. The best thing a man can do for his culture when he is rich is to endeavor to carry out those schemes which he entertained when he was poor. - Henry David Thoreau
I forgot to post this article. Along with my Butch Cassidy obsession, I can spend countless hours reading/researching D.B. Cooper.
"What to make of D.B. Cooper after all these years?
That wasn't his real name, of course, as everyone knows. Or maybe everyone doesn't know, not 36 years after a man who became known as D.B. Cooper hijacked a Boeing 727 between Portland and Seattle, demanded $200,000 in cash and four parachutes from Northwest Airlines, ordered the plane to fly from Seattle to Mexico City and, somewhere over southwest Washington, bailed out with the money, never to be seen again.
It is perhaps the most famous unsolved case in FBI history." - More @ OregonLive
What could be the best meteor display of the year will reach its peak on the night of Dec.13-14.
Here is what astronomers David Levy and Stephen Edberg have written of the annual Geminid Meteor Shower: "If you have not seen a mighty Geminid fireball arcing gracefully across an expanse of sky, then you have not seen a meteor."
The Geminids get their name from the constellation of Gemini, the Twins, because the meteors appear to emanate from a spot in the sky near the bright star Castor in Gemini.
Also in Gemini this month is the planet Mars, nearing a close approach to the Earth later this month, and shining brilliantly with yellow-orange hue. To be sure, Mars is certain to attract the attention of prospective Geminid watchers this upcoming week. - More
Still enjoying a now one-week high from seeing Van Halen and being home for three glorious days. The high counter-balanced by Alaska flashbacks brought on by the foot of snow outside. I'm starting to suspect that Subarus were invented shortly after the dropping of the atomic bomb as a means to get people out of the fall-out because, I swear, those suckers can drive through anything. The mulled cider is on the stove-top...mulling. Captain Morgan's is standing by...captaining.
