Paul Bunyan’s Mega Movie Marathon

The Boy and I cut down a tree. I told my parents that I had a dead tree in my backyard, and they sort of rolled their eyes and told me I had a dead bush. My mom said she’d bring a saw and help me get rid of it, and my dad was happy to be left to his own devices on a Saturday afternoon while she did so.

Does this look like a weed?

And then she got to my house, and saw that her puny wee saw, a sort of electric carving knife on steroids, was no match for my TREE. Granted, it wasn’t a giant redwood or even a mighty oak, but it was clearly a tree. I told her I’d get a chainsaw and manage on my own, so she went through my yard and identified which of the things I’d been trimming were weeds that could and indeed should be obliterated—who knew I was filthy with wild grapes vines—left the handy hook-on-a-stick, and The Boy and I got to it, despite the fact that my mother actually said out loud in words that cutting down a tree was man’s work. Man’s work! I explained later to The Boy that my mother’s comments were clearly an illustration of the differences between her generation and mine, because it never once occurred to me (or to him) that I wouldn’t be able to wield a chainsaw successfully.

I was indeed successful: The tree is now a neat stack of wood, and neither our house nor our bodies were harmed in the process. (Finally, the hard hat I’ve kept since I worked on a road construction crew in college came in handy—I made The Boy wear it.)

Say hello to Stumpy, whom my dad will have to deal with.

We rewarded ourselves yesterday with a day off—the weather was too rainforest-like to think about leaving the comfort of the a/c, so I stuck to laundry and cooking, and we spent lots of time reading and watching movies.

The Men Who Stare at Goats is funny and fun, and more than a little puzzling when you consider that it’s based somewhat on fact. Really? Our military had (or has) programs that deal with psychic activity? Huh. The only weird thing about this movie (other than its premise) is the casting of Ewan McGregor, who is forced to use an American accent. No idea why this had to be, because it clearly wasn’t easy for him, but I guess it added an extra layer of fun.

We also watched Hot Fuzz, which I really cannot say enough good things about. It’s the story of a highly talented and successful London cop who’s transferred to a small village when his superiors start to worry that he’s overshadowing them. He’s frustrated with what he sees as a waste of his skills, until he realizes that the rate of accidental deaths in the village is suspiciously high. The action that follows is part homage, part good natured ribbing of American cop and buddy movies, action flicks, and British mysteries. It’s funny, it’s fun, and so, so very endearing. Two thumbs way up.

We closed out our marathon with X-Men Origins: Wolverine. I like the X-Men a lot—I used to set my alarm when I was in college, so I’d be up to watch the X-Men cartoon at 11am. Wolverine’s hard-ass attitude used to annoy me, but the more I came to know him, the more I liked him. I own the comic the movie is loosely based on, and while I’m probably in the minority, I have to say I liked the movie better. Maybe it’s Hugh Jackman and Liev Schrieber, or maybe it’s the fact that the movie is less dark and hopeless. Or maybe it’s the fact that my beloved Tim Riggins was there—granted, he was Gambit, and I hated stupid Gambit in the cartoon, but TIM RIGGINS! Sigh and swoon. Anyway, if you like X-Men at all, this is one to see—the story is good, the effects are good, and you get to see Professor Xavier when he could still walk around. Good times.

Speaking of Tim Riggins, did you know that he and Eric Northman are going to be in a movie together?!?! Yes, it's a movie based on the board game Battleship, but who cares? Sure, Tim won't have his Texas accent, and Eric won't be immortal, but maybe there will be shirtless wrestling! A woman can dream.

Preach

I'm here to preach to you today, but not like that guy. Do you know who he is? Why, he's L. Ron Hubbard, of Scientology fame. Why do I have a photo of him? Because he came into my house via the magic of television, care of my good friend P, who may just be my equal in weirdness. See, P was in Half Price Books and happened to notice this DVD on sale for 99-cents, and she just couldn't not buy it. Nor could she miss the chance to share it with me. We're the friends, after all, who have shared the DVD glories of Left Behind--The Movie and The Book of Mormon Movie, Volume 1. I suppose we can blame it on our Catholic backgrounds, but for whatever reason, we share a need to know about religions that vary so differently from our own.

L. Ron looks surprisingly like an aged Craig T. Nelson in bad makeup, and he talks as if he borrowed George Washington's false teeth. Very odd. Odder still is the things he says. Scientology is seriously weird. Like more weird than the religion I was raised with, where transubstantiation is accepted as a matter of course. The worst thing about Scientology, though, is a quote from L. Ron that we found on the official website, regarding Scientology and belief in God:

“No culture in the history of the world, save the thoroughly depraved and expiring ones, has failed to affirm the existence of a Supreme Being. It is an empirical observation that men without a strong and lasting faith in a Supreme Being are less capable, less ethical and less valuable to themselves and society....A man without an abiding faith is, by observation alone, more of a thing than a man.”

So atheists aren't people. You know who calls other people non-human? Hitler. And slave owners. And L. Ron Hubbard. Nice trio there.

So. P and I watched what we could stand of the riveting Scientology video. We continued feeding our odd fetish for watching weird things with a screening of Sherlock Holmes. Not the one with Robert Downy Jr., but the one with DINOSAURS. In London. Oh, and there's a Krakon that robs a ship. So the bad guy can use the gold the ship carried in order to be able to buy the dinosaur, so he could use it to steal a pipe from a fountain. And then a dinosaur killed a man in a rubber factory, apparently by metling his face. And that's not even the half of it. We laughed, we cried: It was better than Cats. Seriously. It's available on Netflix to watch instantly, and if you dig a good B movie, you won't be disappointed in this.

The evening wasn't pure junk, though (even though cheesecake was consumed in honor of the late Rue McClanahan), because we began our viewing with an innoculation: I made P watch the most recent episode of Friday Night Lights. I can't believe what a fantastic show this is, and why the entire country isn't in awe of it. I know I've mentioned it before, but this show is seriously great. You know I'm a big Joss Whedon freak, and I will state for you here that I think FNL is better than anything Whedon's ever done. There's no fantasy here, no metaphor, no need to suspend your disbelief; this show is about real people living real lives. They go to church. They pray. The stumble through pancake breakfasts given in fire halls. They get on the floor to play with their kids, one eye looking at a chewed up book that's been read a million times, the other eye on the TV. And they creak and groan and moan and sigh when they finally get up off the floor.

This show honestly raises television to the level of art: It makes you think about what it means to be a person. It makes you look at the humanity in others. It makes you want to make sure you're doing your best and living life and loving the people you love. It's not without its missteps, but I'm here to testify that it's the best thing I've ever seen on television, with the best actors, writers, show-runners . . . just the best of everything, showing how talented people who care about stories and life can make Art out of the idiot box.

Amen.