Cavegirl

30-year-old high school students obsessively bully another 30-year-old high school student until he somehow travels backward in time in this not-very-science-y 80s comedy. I've been awfully busy lately, with the upcoming apocalypse and several unpleasant holidays looming. So that means I've been procrastinating almost everything. I've been doing a lot more shopping than I would like, out amongst humans, in the cold. I don't care for any of that. It means trying to find a parking spot, and walking, and being near people, and spending money, and doing everyone's shopping for them purchasing things they didn't know they wanted. It doesn't make a lot of sense to me, but whatevs. And that also means I am forced to listen to dreadful holiday music. I don't know how anyone stands it. It's a bunch of holly-jolly bullcrap. I looked through my music collection, and I was surprised to find that I inexplicably own 4 yuletide albums. 4! How is that even possible? It must have been some sort of awful accident. Let's listen to a few numbers, shall we?

That was an unusually uptempo holiday jam by the group Low, or as I like to call them, SLow. Why, that tune was nearly jaunty. They usually aren't, which is why I like them. If you really want to have a bummer holiday, play some Low holiday tunes. I know I do.

I searched all over the internet for a video of Kristin Hersh covering that tune by Big Star that shall go unnamed, but I couldn't find one. You just have to be satisfied with this live tune from that e.p., where she sings something about 'the flowers of narcissus are nailed to the underworld door' which sounds alright by me.

Here's a tune from the pagan holiday collection called A Winter's Solstice on the Windham Hill label. I try not to play this record very often, as it has the uncanny ability to make it snow whenever I do. Don't blame me if you play it and it snows where you live. I had nothing to do with it. Blame the Weather Channel.

And finally, here's a top jam that I'm certain will become a favorite at your house. I have a weakness for song-poems. They're fantastic. I'm not going to explain what a song-poem is, that's why the Internet invented Wikipedia. Look it up.

So, there's a few selections from my holiday music collection, and I hope you enjoyed it but I don't particularly care if you didn't. Funny, I think I was talking about something else, and I forgot what it was.

The Weird World Of Blowfly

Temper flare while on tour in this documentary about the masked superhero. I realize that comic books are not meant to be the highest form of journalistic expression, but they should try to be a little more realistic in their depiction of true crime stories. I'm sure that occasionally Batman and Superman say the F-bomb. How couldn't you? If The Joker is dropping you off a 42-story skyscraper, or if Lex Luthor just jammed a chunk of kryptonite in your trousers, are you just going to say "Aw shoot, that is going to smart!". No, you wouldn't. All sort of filthy, foul language is going to escape from your lips. You certainly won't yell "Drat!", or "Fudge!". It'll be a lot worse than that, my friend. The comic books don't show this. Anyway, The Weird World Of Blowfly includes all the dirty talk, but very few crimes are solved.

Brutal Beauty: Tales Of The Rose City Rollers

The rise of roller derby culture in Portland is examined in this documentary. I enjoyed the part where the complicated rules of derby was explained using Voodoo Donuts. The film becomes a little maudlin and sentimental near the end, when some of the cake donuts and some of the old fashioned donuts quit the team due to injuries and donuts. Donuts sound good right now, and we should all go get some. I'll wait.

I'm still trying to figure out a derby name for myself. I'd like it to be colorful, and violent, and unusual, and it should have something to do with my actual name. Maybe Cutty something. Cuttyford Murderangersomething. Will that fit on a t-shirt? I don't know. I'll keep working on it.

Picasso And Braque Go To The Movies

Martin Scorsese narrates this slow-moving, scholarly documentary examining the connection between Cubist artists Pablo Picasso, Georges Braque and early experimental film. I was somewhat bored by this documentary in spite of all the beautiful cubist paintings. But suddenly, the film-makers decided to show a brief clip of a fascinating film called The Red Spectre, which is a documentary about a horned skeleton guy wearing a cape who paces back and forth with a flourish then levitates women and sets them on fire which is a pretty ballsy move in 1907.

Wasn't that awesome?!? I know!!! I have no idea what actually happened in this film but I'm behind it 100%. I hate to sound like a fawning fan-boy, but I'm totally going to find The Red Spectre on Facebook and befriend him. That's not too stalky, is it? Whatever. Speaking of stalking, thanks to Youtube stalking me I now have several other suggestions to watch at a later time. I'm going to watch Chamon's Haunted House from 1908, Melies' Haunted Castle from 1896, and Edison's Frankenstein from 1910. Technology is great, isn't it? I welcome our technological Orwellian overlords.

Deadheads

Deadheads is a charming love story about a guy who goes in search of his lost love. Unfortunately, he's a zombie. Don't misunderstand me, I wasn't charmed by the love story. That was gaggy. I found the low-budget zombie story to be charming, as I often do. The makeup is dodgy, the effects are dodgy, the script is dodgy, but I enjoyed it. It's no Shaun Of The Dead, but what is?

UFOs: 50 Years Of Denial?

All of the usual pro-UFO subjects are interviewed in this flying saucer documentary. What is it about UFO enthusiasts that cause them to don bolo ties once they hear they're going to be interviewed for a UFO documentary? If you're going to be interviewed on camera, you need to tighten up your look. A bolo tie is not the answer.

Take a little advice from me; if you're going to make a high-quality UFO documentary:

1. Lose the bolo ties
2. Get your interview subjects to wear a quality suit and maybe a subtle pocket square
3. Add some CGI

Bigfoot Lives

Sasquatch hunters unveil some dubious and disturbing evidence in this not-very-scientific documentary.  I would like to know what criteria the hunters use if they describe some blurry, dimly-lit Bigfoot footage from Neck Sweat, Texas as 'definitive' and a presumed Bigfoot hand in a jar as 'possible'. I realize that some DNA testing would have to be done, but I would think a hand in a jar would rate a little better than a few poorly-shot frames of trees on a videotape. Heck, what do I know, I'm not a scientist. Anyway, everyone gets pretty excited after someone finds a Bigfoot bed, which looked to me like some flattened grass. I would have to assume that the evidence they found that would prove it was a Bigfoot bed would be some scented candles, a few casually scattered rose petals, and a Barry White cassette, but again, I'm no expert. We also get to hear some recorded Bigfoot cries, which sounds to me like Swedish death metal. Again, I'm no expert, but I was always under the impression that Bigfoot is a big fan of 1970s funk.