Lady Gaga Meets "Seinfeld"?

Weird? Yes. Funny? Kinda.

“Pineapple Express” Takes Prize As Unfunniest Pot Flick Ever

I usually can appreciate stoner humor, but “Pineapple Express” was a brutal mixture of unfunny, awkward, interminable and pointless. Director David Gordon Green deserves part of the blame, but with Judd Apatow attached, this vehicle had his fingerprints all over it.

The bottom line is that Seth Rogan has jumped the menorah and James Franco just isn’t funny. Beyond that, the cast was tremendous. In other words, “Besides that, Mrs. Lincoln, how was the play?”

This one was so mindless that I can’t even muster up the energy to lambaste it anymore. If you feel the need to check this one out, be sure to get baked enough that you won’t even notice the flick or remember watching it later.

And yes, I am fully aware that this review is as half-assed as the movie itself. Believe me, that's intentional.

Five Years Later, Much Still To Be Done -- And Remembered -- After Katrina

Five years since Hurricane Katrina devastated New Orleans and the surrounding region.
Five years since I was unexpectedly impacted by a place I had never been.
Five years since an emergency was turned into a catastrophe by the ignoring and the ignorant.
Five years since the New Orleans that was sunk and was lost forever.
Five years since Gulf Coast residents taught us a lifetime's worth of lessons in resilience.

Five years.

Never forget.

The University of Nanny Cheaters

Limerick Friday LXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXII: Douche Mariotti Gets Comeuppance, Plus Tigger Gets The Heisman

Mariotti’s always been a prick
Uncreative and with a weak-ass schtick
Against abuse he’s always railing
Now we all attack him on his failing
You’ve had this coming, you rectal slick

The demise of Tigger and Elin
Now his kids can commence to healin’
His fraud has been golf’s bunion
El-Dick has always been like an onion
Gets stinkier the more layers you’re peelin’

Global warming is turning 35
Even as some keep lies alive
Katrina’s fifth anniversary as well
When New Orleans sunk in a muddy hell
With politics and money, enviro-disasters thrive

Funky swing and a hooked nose
Since his major win, lotsa lows
Tigger on hand after Elin’s dissing
So no one noticed Furyk missing
Still DQ’d after a too-long doze

Roger’s coldly anti-Asian
Betty’s just abusive and ragin’
Sally scene was creepy as hell
With Honda, Pete pitched the hard sell
Once more Don rises to the occasion

Last time …

Deep Thoughts By No-Look McFadden: Episode 26

#1
I’ve always thought Jim Gray was batshit crazy. Now we have proof, because if can dream up a reason to try to take a chunk out of Corey Pavin, you’re a few Pete Roses short of a betting scandal.

#2
I walked by our receptionist the other day at 2:30 p.m. and she was reading a book with Solitaire up on her monitor. I actually admire that level of not caring.

#3
The term “mental reps” appears to be rising in popularity in football parlance. Going beyond the question of “why,” doesn’t this mean that players are basically thinking about playing football instead of actually doing it? And if that’s the case, what did they used to do before “mental reps”?

#4
Has anyone ever seen Dana Scully Gillian Anderson and “Big Break” host Stephanie Sparks in the same place at the same time?

#5
So new Dolphins receiver Brandon Marshall insists he’s going to play in the NBA if the NFL goes on strike next year. He must be practicing by trying to dribble every pass that comes his way instead of catching it this preseason.

#6
It’s the summer of road construction in Raleigh. It feels like three out of every four major roads in the city is undergoing some level of improvement. Even though it causes some headaches now, I’m hoping that it will be a good thing next summer.

#7
The line between “fanboy” and “media” is getting blurrier every day. Between a couple of douches getting Tim Tebow’s autograph in the locker room and a radio chick wearing a Gators hat to an Arkansas press conference (and deservedly getting fired), the already hurting world of journalism is running out of eyes to black.

#8
I’ve learned that British people never admit they’re wrong. Instead, they use the term “cultural differences” to suggest that something that is a bad idea in the US might work in the UK. But I don’t give a shit if you’re an Australian aborigine, a Kenyan tribesman or an Alaskan Aleut, a bad fucking idea is a bad fucking idea.

#9
Apparently, the literary research into “The Big Lebowski” never stops. Hence, we have “The Dude Abides in Academia,” which apparently documents the last year’s worth of dissertations, etc., related to “The Dude.” God bless America (there’s your goddam “cultural difference,” #8).

#10
Congratulations to Arjun Atwal, the first Indian, first Monday qualifier and first dude-who-was-involved-in-a-fatal-drag-race to win a PGA Tour event.

The Scooters Feel A Draft, Part II: Gettin’ Sleepy

As noted in Part I, the run on quarterbacks caused a nearly immediate shift in strategy for The Scooters this year, and halfway through the draft, I was happy with where I was everywhere except tight end and receiver (from a depth standpoint). However, I knew I had to grab a dependable tight end pretty quick after the turn -- especially in a league where the tight end is a mandatory play. I also needed to unearth some middle-rounds wideouts with high upside, with the hopes being that one or more had a breakout year.

All that being said … here’s what actually happened.


9th Round, 118th Overall: Zach Miller, TE, Oakland Raiders
Miller was a guy I was really hoping would fall to me in this spot, because he was a guy I had targeted pre-draft among my “sleepers” picks. The Raiders are going with Jason Campbell at quarterback this year, and he is a checkdown signal-caller who has always been friendly to tight ends. Throw in the fact that Miller is arguably the #1 receiver in Oakland and you can see why I was pretty happy to scoop him up here.

10th round, 135th Overall: Eddie Royal, WR, Denver Broncos
At this point, with most of the pre-draft rankings sources shot or out the window, it was getting harder and harder to tell who did and didn’t represent value. Keeping that in mind, I took Royal, another dude I had circled on my pre-draft wish list. With Brandon Marshall off to South Beach, somebody is going to have to catch a lot of balls, and even though Royal had a huge sophomore slump, he is a talented guy who is dangerous with the ball in his hands. Here’s another spot where I’m hoping the light goes on for a third-year receiver, and Royal can find a way to play more like the 2008 version than last year’s.

11th round, 146th Overall: Kenny Britt, WR, Tennessee Titans
This was a nice spot to reel in another high-ceiling guy, and Britt certainly fills the bill. After putting up over 700 receiving yards as a rookie, he has had an injury-filled offseason, with some questioning his work ethic and passion for the game, so he certainly has some growing up to do. That’s the only reason I can see why he slipped this far, and when he’s right, he’s arguably Vince Young’s top target in Tennessee (totally). Of course, it is Chris Johnson’s team, but a stretch-the-field guy who is a red-zone threat—like say, Britt—could be invaluable for the Titans, and that’s what I’m banking on here. Low risk, high reward, again; that’s a good way to put together a solid draft.

12th round, 163rd Overall: John Carlson, TE, Seattle Seahawks
Having filled out every position but kicker with a starter, I could really start narrowing in on best-value players at this point. I was a bit surprised to still see Carlson here, with him being a proven pass-catching threat on a team full of offensive question marks. Pairing him with Zach Miller (ninth-rounder) gives me a super-solid tight end corps that will give me some flexibility to play matchups on a week-to-week basis -- or even offer up some trade ammo for later in the year.


13th round, 174th Overall: Nate Kaeding, K, San Diego Chargers
The kicker position is traditionally somewhat undervalued in our league, and with a couple having already been snared (somebody took Garrett Hartley in the ninth round, one spot ahead of LT, which sparked some jokes by me about LT with a gun to his head, wondering how the F he got drafted behind some random kicker), I had the guy considered the top kicker by many sources staring me in the face. I usually try to get at least one dude from as many of the top offenses as possible in fantasy football, and I know Philip Rivers is going to put up a lot of points for the Chargers. Feeling pretty good everywhere else at this point, Kaeding helped me continue my value-drafting trend.

14th round, 191st Overall: Brian Hartline, WR, Miami Dolphins
Not too many starting wideouts are still on the board in round #14, so seeing Hartline still lurking was a good sight for me. He put together a very surprising rookie campaign, and with Marshall on the other side and Ronnie Brown and Ricky Williams in the backfield, he should be able to build on last year’s solid numbers in 2010. You could certainly do much, much worse for your No. 5 receiver. Plus, I didn’t have a ‘Fin yet!

15th round, 202nd Overall: Texans, D/ST, Houston
Needing a bye-week defense, seeing that most of my opponents had filled out their quarterbacks and not seeing any worthy wideouts, I landed the Texans here. While the suspension of ‘roid-rager Brian Cushing and the injury concerns of Mario Williams certainly won’t help, Houston is rapidly progressing on “D” overall and seem to get a return TD or two every year. Plus, and most importantly, they play Oakland in Week 4, on my starting defense’s bye. I’ll take it.

16th round, 219th Overall: Earl Bennett, WR, Chicago Bears
Did you know Earl Bennett caught 54 passes a season ago? Well, even though he’s been lost in the shuffle a bit behind Devin Hester, Devin Aromashadu and Johnny Knox in Chicago, I think he’s a nice fit for Mike Martz’s new Bears offense. Also, he was Jay Cutler’s favorite target in college at Vanderbilt, which can’t hurt matters. He has a few nagging injuries and could get stuck behind the trio above, but as my sixth and final wideout, I like his upside and the possibilities.
Also, I like to grab a guy from my hometown Bears every year as well.

[EDITOR'S NOTE: Yesterday, I dropped Bennett in favor of Javon Walker, who was inked by the Vikes in the wake of injury woes with Sidney Rice and Percy Harvin. But today, I dropped Walker and snared Greg Camarillo, a Dolphins folk hero who was traded to Minnesota for cornerback Benny Sapp today. Camarillo could catch a lot of balls for the Vikings.]

17th round, 230th Overall: Matt Hasselbeck, QB, Seattle Seahawks
At this point, the draft was nearing six hours old, and I was getting tired, bored and pissed. C’mon fellas, these are your backup kickers and defense we’re looking at right now, and as long as they don’t have the same bye week, who are you kidding with the Mel Kiper “war room” action? Grab a guy and call it a goddam day.
Anyway (this signifies the end of the rant), I had been eyeing Josh Freeman of the Buccaneers as my backup quarterback, but when he went off the board a few picks beforehand, I settled on Hasselbeck here. He’s certainly nearing the end, but hopefully he’s rejuvenated with a new offense and a new coaching staff (even if it’s led by the insufferable Pete Carroll) and can click for one more year. Seattle plays St. Louis on my starting quarterback’s bye week, so the stars might align for Hasselbeck to pick me up with a big game there.


18th round, 247th Overall: Ryan Rian Lindell, K, Buffalo Bills
He was available. He didn’t have the same bye week as my starter. He has a functioning right leg. He had 28 field goals last year and plays for a shitty offense that will likely stall if it even sniffs the red zone. Sold. Let’s end this thing.


QUICK WRAP:
Despite the initial disappointment in how the quarterback drafting played out, I came away feeling a little better about this haul top to bottom then I usually do. In the second half of the draft, I was able to pull off a lot of value picking, which usually bodes well for the depth of your overall draft.
At first blush, I really like my tight ends, like my running backs and was happy to get consensus top-three players at kicker and on defense. I’ll need one or more of my middle-tier receivers to emerge and a lot of my hopes hinge on Kolb, but again, I like what I was able to pull off.
Of course, that doesn’t mean shite now … ask me again in December.

The Scooters Feel A Draft, Part I: You Say “Quarterback,” I Say “Running Back”

Headed into this year’s Wolfpack Fantasy Football League draft, I was ready to change up my strategy somewhat. After missing out on the playoffs the last two years (once getting completely screwed, once just having a middling team) and based on an informal conversation with our commish over the summer about our league’s skewed point system, I was determined to land a game-changing quarterback this season. Keeping in mind the WFFL’s motto of “It’s a quarterback league,” I ID’d seven quarterbacks I deemed to be in the top tier and told myself that I would land one of them. I then did the same with three running backs and seven receivers.

Well, motto #2 of this year’s draft quickly became “Be ready to adjust,” because the top seven signal-callers went in the first 27 picks of the entire draft, forcing me to scramble a little, but also allowing me to stock up on solid running backs to give myself some lineup flexibility.

This year, due to the difficulty inherent in scheduling a draft time for 14 dudes, I had to participate in the draft online -- for the first time in the 11 years I’ve been in this league. There are advantages (not having to deal with the “Trucker Dumper” in person) and drawbacks (not being able to read owner emotions -- read: desperation), but the reality is that this was a six-hour marathon that punishes online drafters for not being in the room and helping to speed matters along.

Oh well.

So here’s what happened.

1st Round, 6th Overall: Frank Gore, RB, San Francisco 49ers
After the dude ahead of me snared Drew Brees one pick before me (I was leaning toward taking Brees), I got the sense this draft was going to go weird on me. Aaron Rodgers and Andre Johnson were big-time considerations here, but after hoping Maurice Jones-Drew or Ray Rice fell to me (obviously not), I couldn’t afford to miss out on landing one of the few remaining non-carries-splitting backs. I had Gore a couple of years ago and he was freaking tremendous, and with the offense looking a bit more dangerous around him, I have to believe he’s in for another big year.

2nd Round, 23rd Overall: Calvin Johnson, WR, Detroit Lions
I felt pretty good about taking “Megatron” here, even though he plays for the Lions. With another year of familiarity with Matthew Stafford, I think he’s capable of some big numbers in 2010. To me, he represented the best value out there and was one of the last sure-thing wideouts left on the board, so snaring him was the best of both worlds—even as quarterbacks went flying past me.

3rd Round, 34th Overall: Jamaal Charles, RB, Kansas City Chiefs
While Charles was a good value in this spot, he sure made me hesitate. I grabbed him as a late-season free agent a season ago and he was money, ripping off huge yards and long touchdowns. But for reasons I can’t quite understand, his coach, Todd Haley, either has something personal against him or is intent on losing his job. Bottom line, Charles is a TD threat from anywhere on the field and is a good receiver out of the backfield, but Haley seems to have fallen in love with either Thomas Jones or any back not named Jamaal. We’ll see how it shakes out, which is FF code for “this could make me or break me.”


4th Round, 51st Overall: Kevin Kolb, QB, Philadelphia Eagles
Speaking of “make me or break me,” I present Kolb. Jay Cutler and Kolb represented the cream of the crop for the second-tier signal-callers, in my mind, and after going through the Cutler Experience a season ago, I simply couldn’t allow myself to do it again (though I maintain he’ll put up big numbers in 2010). With Kolb, he’s much more accurate than McNabb, who was really the only thing holding back the Eagles pass-happy offense. The reality is coach Andy Reid’s system is designed to produce huge passing numbers, no matter who the quarterback is (much like the 49ers when Steve Bono racked up stats after Montana and Young). That’s my story, and I’m sticking to it.
On a side note, I was pretty sure I was going to pluck either Ronnie Brown or Dallas Clark here (hoping Kolb lasted one more round), but the guy three spots in front of me (Brown) and just in front of me (Clark) gave me the first two draft-ganks of the evening.

5th Round, 62nd Overall: Marion Barber, RB, Dallas Cowboys
I just didn’t like the available guys on the board at this point; things were thinning out toot-sweet. I had a real need for a receiver, having taken only one, but to me the best of the lot remaining was Pierre Garcon, and in my gut, it just felt too early to take a guy who was not a sure-thing second wideout at the moment. I know Barber is Mr. Irrelevant in Dallas these days, but I’m just not buying the talk of Felix Jones as a legitimate No. 1 back. He gets dinged up way too much, and I just don’t think he’s tough enough to handle it. I took some ribbing for taking a backup running back in this spot, but I feel, at the very least, Barber is going to be the goal-line back for an offense that is likely to be in the red zone quite a bit.

6th round, 79th Overall: Pierre Garcon, WR, Indianapolis Colts
I was glad Garcon was still here, because this is a good place to roll the dice on a low-risk, huge-upside guy. Even though he sounds like a French waiter, he had a lot of nice moments a year ago, and even with Anthony Gonzalez coming back into the fold, I think he could be targeted a lot by Peyton Manning this year. I’m likely reading too much into it, but the contract bitching by Reggie Wayne could also play a factor in how the WR pecking order plays out in Indy. Here’s to hoping the myth truism about third-year receivers manifests itself with Pierre … oui?

7th round, 90th Overall: Vikings, D/ST, Minnesota
I tend to wait too long to take defenses in this league, and when a couple of owners had jumped up and grabbed D’s not named “Minnesota,” I thought this was a nice spot to land a top-three defense for my squad. The choice was between drafting Cutler, who surprisingly was still around, as my No. 2 quarterback to hedge my bets against Kolb, or to secure a nice point-producing D/ST. Since the Vikings play Cutler twice, it could help me in two ways by picking Minnesota over him if he sticks to last year’s pick-throwing ways.


8th round, 107th Overall: Reggie Bush, RB, New Orleans Saints
I will go ahead and admit that I was a fan of the way Bush was running at the end of last season. He was much more inclined to lower his head and bowl over a would-be tackler than usual, and with some of the uncertainty surrounding the RB position in New Orleans, I felt Bush represented value here. I know he’ll get touches in the passing game, and if he continues to prove his worth between the tackles, he could be a tremendous No. 4 running back and potential trade bait. (Couldn’t believe I’d already filled out my RB rotation at this point).

Get your click on for Part II ...

Colt .45 + Lando + Shaft = "Blackstar Warrior"

I gotta admit, the "works every time" line killed me. Well, that and "space ain't black enough to hide from him."

Good stuff.

“It’s Complicated” Is Actually Really Not That Complicated

I’m a second-career-Alec Baldwin fan (tremendous in “30 Rock”) and you always have to respect Meryl Streep, so “It’s Complicated” was a flick that it would at least be bearable. There was at least a semi-original plot involved, what with Baldwin’s character being married to a hottie, yet still pursuing an affair with Streep as his longtime ex-wife. There was something mildly poignant in the shyness of seeing how former lovers had changed over the years and having the list of medications you’re on listed in front of this person who was once so familiar.

However, the movie seemed to be filled with missed opportunities. Despite some interesting looks at the dynamic of trying put back together an original nuclear family after so many years, “It’s Complicated” seemed to dwell on pretty obvious jokes. It also relied WAY too much on physical humor that is not at all funny—namely, showing old people that are showing too much skin and having sex scenes that succeed only in being creepy and nausea-inducing.

Steve Martin had a throwaway role that didn’t take advantage of his comedic talents, and dear crikey did he look old, to the point where it was actually a bit stunning. John Krasinski was on hand again as the son-in-law, but I’m just still not seeing what he brings to the table beyond his expected “OMG” faces. [On a side note, it was humorous to see one of Seinfeld’s old girlfriends, “Schmoopie,” who he turned his back on in favor of the Soup Nazi, pop up as one of Streep’s friends in the flick.] One of the kids from “Weeds” (Hunter Parrish) was also in the cast, which is ironic since perhaps the movie’s best scene came when Streep and Martin get stoned at a party, along with Krasinski (accidentally). For about 10 minutes, the flick became absolutely delightful, and I still maintain that the movie would have been much, much better had they filmed the entire thing that way.

Beyond that, however, director Nancy Meyers seems to play it safe and take very few chances, which is a shame since the premise was there for originality, which is so lacking in Hollywood. Baldwin comes off as more sad than funny and Streep continues to be one of those actors who seems to get by on her reputation even in a forgettable vehicle.

Outside of a few funny moments, the gross-ity factor of old people having a physical affair and the perception of a lost opportunity will always define this movie for me. What could have been memorable quickly turned forgettable and what could have brought on guffaws settled for shrugs, complicating what could have been simple, good entertainment.

Limerick Friday LXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXI: The Travails Of Fantasy Football Drafting, Plus The Drama Douche Is Back

Another year in the WFFL
Draft Day made me kinda yell
QBs went flying off the board
Strategy changed with a “Good lord”
You pick who you can and say, “What the hell”

Marshall did his Ginn impression
Dropped two without a reception
The game was full of jitters
Even for Miami’s big hitters
Instead, I shoulda watched “Inception”

Another misstep for “Bookface”
Unveiling invasive Facebook Places
If privacy they don’t make clear
Then Facebook, I do fear
Is gonna go the way of MySpace

Three vets rolled down to Mississippi
With Butt Favre they did get lippy
“Look, bitch” they did say
“The drama ends today”
Flew him back where the winters are nippy

Campbell learned he would be a Dad
Don needs a new secretary -- bad
Peggy was always a bit of a ho
Switch-hitter? Which way does she go?
Pete won big by making dad-in-law mad

Last time …

Like A Bull In A China-- Er, Crowd Of People Looking To Get Gored

On our next episode of "When Tortured Animals Attack ..."

Swell Season Tackles Neutral Milk Hotel’s “Two-Headed Boy”

The Swell Season covers Neutral Milk Hotel

I stumbled across this video the other day, and I discovered it combines two of my absolute favorite bands: Swell Season and Neutral Milk Hotel. In it, Glenn Hansard and Marketa Irglova are essentially challenged to cover a song off a list, and they chose “Two-Headed Boy” by Neutral Milk Hotel.

The result? Niiiiiice.

Old Man Golf Is Now For "Limberbacks"

Well-played by Heineken Light here (never thought I'd say that). "Hybrid, baby!" and "156, oh yeah" had me freaking rolling.

Good times.

“Fail Nation" Is An Epic Fail Of A Book

“Fail Nation: A Visual Romp Through The World of Epic Fails” was good for what it was: bathroom fodder. If you’re at all familiar with the tremendous Web site, the book it super-repetitive and reads essentially like a collection of printouts directly off the site.

In addition, at the end, all the page numbers in the included maps were wrong, representing a “FAIL” for a book about failing. Oh, the irony.

Anyway, don’t bother getting this one if you are a follower of the site … you’ll just be disappointed.

Cameron Frye vs. Tyler Durden?

"Ferris Bueller's Day Off" meets "Fight Club"? This takes a little bit of bearing with it, but the payoff is worth it.

Cheers.

Goosebumps.

I will certainly never be mistaken for someone who abides country music, but for this one video, I'll make an exception ... if only because it makes me want to tackle the next person I see.

College football is back.

Limerick Friday LXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX: Holding The Heels To The Fire, Plus “Lost” Pops Up Again And Jimmy Johnson Won’t Go Away

A snake-oil salesman, John Blake
Christianity he did fake
Now UNC headed for probation
He and Butch headed for vacation
They know cheating for christ’s sake

During the hottest recorded year
In Greenland, an ice shelf did shear
Four times Manhattan’s size
Earth destroyed right beneath our eyes
Climate change ain’t coming -- it’s here

A “Lost” epilogue it does seem
Ben goes to a warehouse scene
Visits Walt in a mental facility pen
Back to the island with Hurley and Ben?
If it came back, it would be a dream

A coaching fraud named Jimmy
His poodle made him seem like a ninny
Spotlight-craving was always his reason
That’s why he’s on “Survivor” this season
He’ll cheat somehow, that’s a gimme

Dick Whitman in Cali again
Learns Anna is sick and in pain
But she doesn’t know
So back to New York he does go
Spends New Year’s with also-lonely Lane

Last time …

Deep Thoughts By No-Look McFadden: Episode 25

#1
I can’t really remember the last time I looked forward to the release of an album more than Arcade Fire’s newest, “The Suburbs.” And led by the sterling “Month of May,” “Modern Man,” “Empty Room” and “Half Light II (No Celebration),” Arcade Fire lived up to the anticipation and expectations.

#2
Has anyone ever seen Peter Garrett, politician and lead singer of Midnight Oil, and Peter Bethune from "Whale Wars" in the same place at the same time?

#3
So I usually wear Dolphins gear to celebrate the start of training camp every year. This year, I rolled with a Chad Henne T-shirt. So my wife goes, “Who is ‘Hiney’?”
It’s going to be a long year.

#4
How do you go from potential global icon to laughingstock? Ask LeBron James, who got freaking skewered everywhere, but nowhere better than in Rolling Stone.

#5
“Big Brother” would be so much better if they replaced Julie Chen with Zach Galifianakis. Can you imagine him doing a “Between the Ferns” (like this one with Jon Hamm -- “Am I pronouncing that right?”) to the houseguest just voted out and basically tearing people new ones in the diary room? Dammit CBS, hear me!

#6
Best line of NFL Hall of Fame weekend? “There’s no greater feeling than to move a man from point A to point B against his will,” from Russ Grimm. A tremendous, tremendous quote about what football truly is.

#7
I “feel” music better when I listen through headphones. If that makes sense.

#8
I’m not a big “Around the Horn” fan, but the other day, writer Bob Ryan said that all powerhouse college teams cheat. Douche-licker Jay Mariotti immediately chimed in with “Not Coach K! Not Coach K!” Ryan’s response as the show headed into a commercial break was “Talk to Chris Duhon someday.” A stunned Mariotti starts squawking, “That was never proven!”
Yeah, jackass, the assertion that all powerhouse college teams cheat can’t be proven either, but it’s true. And you can add Corey Maggette to Coach K’s cheating ways as well. Great stuff from Ryan, attacking the untouchable.

#9
One of the joys of having a child is being able to watch kid TV guilt-free. Well, we were checking out the Wonder Pets the other day on Nick Jr., and the episode revolved around how they could help save the Rat Pack. Frank Sinatra might be rolling in his grave somewhere, but that shit was hysterical.

#10
Tony Mandarich started following me on Twitter. I'm not positive, but I think that's awesome.

Choose Your Spots: The Cool Parts Of Visiting The Big Easy

On a recent trip to Louisiana, we found ourselves cooped up at a relative’s house to shake off the sweltering heat and catch up with family. But partially just to get out of the house, we checked out Audubon Park, just off Tchoupitoulas Street in New Orleans, right on the river.


It was a relatively new, beautiful park, offering tremendous views of the mighty Mississippi throughout.


We were there to see a relative playing Little League, but we stayed for the scenery.


And much to our surprise and delight, we found that we had possibly found the only Little League park in the country that sells beer. Only in New Orleans …

One thing on the “fun” side of the agenda was a visit to Abita Brewing Company in nearby Abita Springs. Located “across the lake,” as the locals say, about 30 miles north of New Orleans, Abita has a brew pub that used to serve as the actual brewery.


On a side note, there is evidence everywhere that they’re still very proud of their Super Bowl champion Saints here in Louisiana.


After a quick lunch of a tremendous muffuletta and highlighted by a specialty wheat pilsner called the Double Kolsch, we took a hop, skip and a jump just down to the actual brewery for a tour.


However, we faced long lines and sweltering heat, so we had to skip the actual tour and just head inside to the tasting room to partake of the Jockamo, Andygator, Abbey Ale and Satsuma Wit -- brews that are hard to find in North Carolina and serve as good in-law-serenity-now aiders.


Unfortunately, they were in the midst of bottling the new SOS beer, so we were unable to try it there. However, we did get some SOS gear to support Gulf Coast cleanup (75 cents of each bottle goes to the cause), doing our small part to extend the middle finger to BP through drinking.

All in all, it was a tremendous diversion and a mandatory needed nice respite from the heat and the drama.

This Happened, Paper Towel-Style: Somebody Plays The “Vagina” Card

I guess it was bound to happen eventually, but suffice it to say that PaperTowelGate has escalated dramatically. First, there was the sign imploring Douchey Litter Guy to stop, you know, throwing shit on the bathroom floor, followed by a confusing message from Douchey Litter Guy attempting to defend his actions. Then, the janitor eventually responded with some strongly worded (I guess) assertions that Douchey Litter Guy is “childish.”

Well, folks, you ain’t seen shite yet (pun intended).


Oh, no he di’n’t (yes, he did)! Let’s just say that, at this point, I don’t know whether this guy is my new personal hero -- after all, working "vagina" and "douche" into a single comment is pretty high on the awesomeness degree-of-difficulty scale -- or part of the problem. What is not up for debate is that he delivered a swift kick to the taco on Douchey Litter Guy with this one.

Unfortunately, this tool has had his sensibilities offended and is threatening to tear down the note. I told him not to F with my summer, but I fear that the budding battle between Douchey Litter Guy and Taco Kicker could be over before it truly begins.

And if that’s the case, we all lose.

Star Wars Takes The Subway

The reaction of the old dude sitting next to Princess Leia is priceless. Also, "Galactic Rebellion for Dummies"? Slow clap ...

In Osmosis From Page To Screen, “The Road” Retains Genius With Few Obstacles

The usually reserved and hermit-like Cormac McCarthy has won nearly every major literary award possible, but he certainly had to be unbelievably thrilled to learn that he had taken home top “Scootie” honors in 2009 for his incredible work on “The Road." As an unabashed fan of McCarthy and the previous book-turned-movie of his I’d seen, “No Country for Old Men,” I was obviously eager to check out the cinematic version of the masterpiece that is “The Road.”

From the previews, it appeared that the woman, played by Charlize Theron, played a somewhat larger role in the film than she did in the book, and this was proven true in my viewing. Of course, if I had Charlize in my cast, I would feature her as often as possible, so no apologies there. Beyond that, the movie was about as closely tied and true to the book as is possible these days, a worthy representation and honoring of McCarthy’s beautiful novel.

As in the book, “The Road” is a movie of bleak intensity, heart-wrenching at times, brutal at others and thoughtful in still others. In a slight departure from McCarthy’s work, the man, played by Viggo Mortensen, is more emotional and less stoic in the flick. However, Mortensen does an admirable job, especially considering the fact that I had always considered him a rather limited actor. He was nearly universally lauded for this performance, earning some nominations for Best Actor from various outlets.

I also couldn’t help but notice that he sang a couple of the songs on the movie’s soundtrack, and went on to learn that he has done 14 albums; also sang on the “Lord of the Rings” soundtracks; dabbles in poetry, photography and painting; and speaks eight languages, including three fluently. To paraphrase Kramer on “Seinfeld,” apparently Viggo Mortensen is quite prolific. In “The Road” specifically, I felt he was at his best when he symbolically casted away his wife’s memory and, overall, I thought he honored the role of the man well.

Though the casting of Theron and especially Mortensen worked well, it was the choice to have youngster Kodi Smit-McPhee play the boy that paid off the biggest. He was selected because of his blend of youthful innocence and the perception of wisdom beyond his years, and I thought he was tremendous in the role. There were some scenes where his emotion came through with pitiful, heart-rending crying that had to come from somewhere deep inside him, and it was truly a jarring thing to witness. As the movie progressed, we follow the boy as he becomes aware and cognizant of his father’s growing sickness, and the resulting emotional breakdown that ensues. In the end, though, Smit-McPhee captures the true and pure face of innocence, serving as an essential link and an ideal way to conclude the tale.

As he is wont to do, Robert Duvall steals a couple of scenes with his portrayal of Eli, an old drifter who brings the innocence and the somewhat naïve belief in the goodness of people out of the boy. In a memorable exchange, the boy reaches for Eli’s hand as they walk, only to have the man admonish him not to hold his hand. It is Eli who introduces the idea of the boy as an angel, an opinion that the man does not disagree with and even espouses himself (“If I were god, I would have made the world just so and no different. And so I have you -- I have you.”). Yet Eli himself has given up hope in mankind as he waits to die:

“Whoever made humanity will find no humanity here. No, sir. No, sir. So beware … beware.”

The refutation of god and religion is a theme throughout the movie, in juxtaposition to the boy’s sensitivity and desire -- nay, need -- to believe in something to keep he and his father going. In several instances, the boy challenges the father to do the same, despite his growing sickness, the loss of his wife, the imminent danger to he and his son, and the overlaying difficulty of a lack of food, water and supplies. To his credit, the man seems to try to find something to cling to, as he finds color in a colorless world when he finds a cushion in the house he grew up in and when he discovers a piano and elicits a wrenching cry when he hears its music. All along, the man is learning from the boy just as much as the father is teaching the son.


Even when the duo finally experiences a stroke of good luck and the father wants so bad to have faith that it will keep, he eventually has to make the decision for them both to leave the haven and go on. In search of what? A hope, something intangible, something that keeps falling away as they get closer and closer to the coast.

“All I know is the child is my warrant and if he is not the word of God, then God never spoke.”

Two other themes that permeate the flick are the question of who is following who? and the reality (pun?) that you never know what is coming down the road: good or evil, opportunity or threat, life or death.

A few scenes (creepy house, falling trees, boardwalk, hiding in woods, beach robbery, self stapling) were almost unbelievable intense, so much credit goes to director John Hillcoat. Due to his disdain for CGI, Hillcoat ensured that the flick was filmed exclusively in real locations. The abandoned Pennsylvania Turnpike, post-Katrina New Orleans (there is irony involved in the coast of Louisiana literally looking like the movie, but I don’t have the energy to go there), Mount St. Helens in Washington and Oregon served as the primary backdrops for the film. Special effects director Mark Forker also did an incredible job, removing any remnant of greenery, sky or color from the world McCarthy created. In discussing directorial decisions, I do have to say that there was an odd moment at the end when some of the key characters were shown as having no thumbs, but it was never explained (a backwards nod to gang signs?).

Among the other memorable faces in this one were Guy Pearce, Michael K. Williams, two “Deadwood” stars (Garret Dillahunt and Molly Walker) and even a Coke cameo (nice advertising!). With such a strong cast in place, the flick’s braintrust delayed its debut more than a year to help push it as an Oscar contender. It didn’t reach that status, however, and one of the reasons could be that some reviewers thought the movie felt much more detached and less intimate than the book. In defense of the film, though, it can be extraordinarily difficult to convey that sense of connectivity and helplessness simultaneously on the screen. That task was handled better, in my mind, in the movie version of “Children of Men,” another book-turned-movie that shared a lot of similarities with “The Road.”

In the end, though, a great story is a great story, and few things can take away from it, even in the transition from page to screen. McCarthy’s genius remained largely untouched by Hillcoat, whether as a show of respect or an acknowledgement that fiddling with the tale would end poorly.

Either way, “The Road” is as essential a watch as it remains a read … and that in itself is an accomplishment to be applauded.

Limerick Friday LXXXXXXXXXXXXXXIX: Politicians Actually Get Something Right, Plus Prick Pitino And Butt Favre Deserve Each Other

The overturning of Prop 8
No longer a source for debate
Or a reason for shame
At long last, we can claim
A victory of love over hate

The summer of Fat Albert in D.C.
Unconditioned, there’s nothing to see
Shanny “The Rat” ain’t takin’ no shite
Harassing Haynesworth is his right
It’s what passes for news on July TV

Pitino just another stupid jock
Couldn’t control his senses or c#&k
An affair on a restaurant table
Can’t make this shit up for cable
Guess Tricky Rick’s got a 15-second shot clock

Butt Favre in the news everyday
Like some sort of Douche Groundhog’s Day
An attention ho of the highest order
A fraud on the Mississippi border
Who gives a shit, play or don’t play

Lonely Christmas time for Draper
Rejections make him a secretary raper
Peggy pretended to be a virgin
Lucky Strikes, Sterling battle convergin’
Creepy Glenn breaks in and scatters paper

Last time …

How To Curse In Koren, Pickled Version

Since the "I Will Survive" video has been taken down, I thought I'd share another rather controversial one. Apparently, it is not for "little children" or "pregnant women," so beware.

"I Will Survive" Tours Auschwitz

I've heard this video of Holocaust survivors dancing is a bit controversial. I don't know, I kinda found it inspiring.

EDITOR'S NOTE: Well, it's been taken down. I guess "controversial" trumps "inspiring" again. Sorry.

Deep Thoughts By No-Look McFadden: Episode 24

#1
So Reggie Bush’s Heisman Trophy is (rightly) removed from USC’s facilities, but O.J.’s stays?. Got it, thanks.

#2
For a few years now, “Big Brother” has equaled summer to me (sad as that is). Unfortunately, this may be the most boring season, with the fewest personalities, ever.

#3
So Dez Bryant threatens to hold out, gets a great deal from the Cowboys, then refuses to carry shoulder pads or take part in rookie hazing, then gets injured and could miss a month or more. Guess karma really is a bitch.

#4
I’ve always felt that Oliver Stone is perhaps the most overrated director ever. Now, with his Hitler affinity, he’s confirmed himself as a douche as well.

#5
Is it bad that 96% of the money used to rebuild Iraq is unaccounted for at this point? Just checking.

#6
Oh, how I’ve missed you, Joan Holloway. Dear lord, how I’ve missed you.

#7
If the “Last Exorcist” is rated PG-13, I’d hate to see what a goddam R is these days.

#8
Stuart Appleby shoots a freaking Sunday 59 to win the Greenbrier Classic by one stroke. That is just insane.

#9
Christiane Amanpour might be a helluva journalist, but dear lord, she has the worst hair of any TV media person I’ve ever seen. She looks like a she-Dwight.

#10
Anyone who thinks Butt Favre is just going to retire and slip away this quietly hasn’t seen many Wranglers or Sears commercials.

"That's What She Said" -- "Mad Men"-Style

Alas, some of the sting of Michael Scott's imminent shuffling off of "The Office's" mortal coil has been offset by the return of "Mad Men."

McCarthy Impartially Observes The Hells Angels Of The Desert In Incredible, Remorseless “Blood Meridian”

“See the child.”

“The truth about the world, he said, is that anything is possible. Had you not seen it all from birth and thereby bled it of its strangeness it would appear to you for what it is, a hat trick in a medicine show, a fevered dream, a trance bepopulate with chimeras having neither analogue nor precedent, an itinerant carnival, a migratory tentshow whose ultimate destination after many a pitch in many a mudded field is unspeakable and calamitous beyond reckoning.”

“I know your kind, he said. What’s wrong with you is wrong all the way through you.”

“You can find meanness in the least of creatures, but when God made man the devil was at his elbow. A creature that can do anything. Make a machine. And a machine to make the machine. And evil that can run itself a thousand years, no need to tend it. You believe that?
“I dont know.
“Believe that.”

In the interest of erasing my previous ignorance of the genius of Cormac McCarthy, I’m making up for lost time. After being positively rocked by the epic “The Road,” I did a little research and discovered that McCarthy had also penned a Western classic, “Blood Meridian: The Evening Redness in the West.” I quickly slotted it into my reading rotation, and when its turn came up recently, I launched into it with eager anticipation.

The story follows an early teenager evolving into a life of crime, terror and violence in the unsettled and rule-lacking West of the 1850s. Going without a name and referred to only as “the kid” (following McCarthy’s trend toward namelessness, like in “The Road”) by everyone he runs with, he is the focal point of the novel’s whirlwind, frantic start. Using his trademark sparse punctuation and hard-hitting sentences, McCarthy shifts gears with his prose here, perhaps in an effort to capture the personality of the desert and the era in which the kid’s adventures take place. Written 20 years prior to “The Road,” “Blood Meridian” is rich with long, descriptive sentences, much more flowery and detailed in juxtaposition to “The Road’s” utter starkness. The novel also represents McCarthy’s first foray into the Southwest after many pieces set in Appalachia, and many feel “Blood Meridian” borrows heavily from “My Confession: The Recollections of a Rogue,” by Samuel Chamberlain. Some have even gone so far as to say the kid represents Chamberlain, but since McCarthy has never granted an interview about the book, it’s all up for interpretation.

However, in the listings and descriptions of the many, many brutal acts of violence that pepper this novel on seemingly every other page, McCarthy relies on his best technique: shocking you with straightforward, even, unflinching, abrupt writing. A prime example comes when the kid & Co. ride upon a tree full of dead babies, which is introduced matter-of-factly, seemingly slid into the text among other words that weigh the same, that carry the same value (“The way narrowed through rocks and by and by they came to a bush that was hung with dead babies.”). This understated communication is all the more startling and unsettling for its sparseness of prose, its directness of description.

“Blood Meridian” truly begins when savage Comanches attack the kid’s group, slaughtering, raping, beheading, eviscerating, scalping and dehumanizing on a blue desert.

“ … all the horsemen’s faces gaudy and grotesque with daubings like a company of mounted clowns, death hilarious, all howling in a barbarous tongue and riding down upon them like a horde from a hell more horrible yet than the brimstone land of Christian reckoning, screeching and yammering and clothed in smoke like those vaporous beings in regions beyond right knowing where the eye wanders and the lip jerks and drools.”

On a side note, I have read that many readers -- even scholars -- have been simply unable to rationalize or come to terms with the almost inconceivable violence and moral vacuity that permeates and defines the book, and as a result, simply can’t finish “Blood Meridian.” From infanticide to church slaughters, from cannibalism to animal torture, from rape to pillaging, I am here to attest that it can be an awful lot to stomach. In particular, I found myself thinking, “Shooting and drowning puppies? Really?” and “Driving scores of mules off of cliffs on purpose, for crissakes?”, among other utterings of disbelief. Another obstacle to the digestion of “Blood Meridian” in this vein is McCarthy’s usage of a lot of unrecognizable words and Spanish dialogue, which can be a bit off-putting and make for a harder read.

Anyway, following the kid’s narrow escape from the Comanches, he falls in with a band of killers and outriders: the Glanton Gang. This group of marauders is charged with scalping savages, to be paid by the pure number of scalps they bring back. The journey across the desert is replete with mirages, sorcery, encounters with bloodbats, pursuit by wolves, the constant specter of Indian attack, the overhanging worry of water possession and a tenuous truce with the terrain (map found here) itself.



“All night sheetlightning quaked sourceless to the west beyond the midnight thunderheads, making a bluish day of the distant desert, the mountains on the sudden skyline stark and black and livid like a land of some other order out there whose true geology was not stone but fear.”

We are told that the kid runs away at 14 and is shot at 15 (“He can neither read nor write and in him broods already a taste for mindless violence.”), with most of the piece itself picking up his riding with the Glanton Gang at the age of 19. However, because we are purposely detached and placed at a remote distance from the kid, it is difficult to get a feel for his actual age at times. McCarthy never lets us inside the kid’s mind or gives us witness to his thoughts, so we are left to judge for ourselves how the kid feels about what he is involved in and how willing a participant he is in the boundless killing and destruction. His sparing of Shelby and his passing on multiple opportunities to slay the Judge are among the decisions that lead us to believe that there is more to the kid than just mindless wandering and a thirst for blood, and he is apparent in his omission in many of these violent acts.

“You better get out of my way, he said.
“The kid wasnt going to do that and he saw no use in discussing it. He kicked the man in the jaw.”

“Kindly fell on hard times aint ye son? he said.
“I just aint fell on no good ones.”

Though the Glanton Gang constantly faces impossible odds, their mission begins to change from being hired to collect the scalps of Indians who have savaged the countryside to simply killing anything and everything in its path, and we eventually see that the kid and Toadvine, perhaps the closest thing the kid has to a friend, begin to question why and whether the murder of innocents is necessary.

In fact, as time progresses and the walls of morality continue to be under assault from blow after blow, the Glanton Gang slowly morphs into something much worse than even the savages they are chasing. At one point, separated from his comrades, the kid watches a battle from the height of a mountain, seeing the silent senselessness from far away, and we sense that he is beginning to see something of the light.

“ … the slant black shapes of the mounted men stenciled across the stone with a definition austere and implacable like shapes capable of violating their covenant with the flesh that authored them and continuing autonomous across the naked rock without reference to sun or man or god.”

“ … each more pale than the one before and all tattooed, branded, sutured, the great puckered scars inaugurated God knows where by what barbarous surgeons across chests and abdomens like the tracks of gigantic millipedes, some deformed, fingers missing, eyes, their foreheads and arms stamped with letters and numbers as if they were articles requiring inventory.”

“Like beings provoked out of the absolute rock and set nameless and at no remove from their own loomings to wander ravenous and doomed and mute as gorgons shambling the brutal wastes of Gondwanaland in a time before nomenclature was and each was all.”

As these cowboy pirates morph into a force that is worse than the Indians, questions begin to arise in our collective minds: Who are we supposed to pull for? What is the kid’s role and involvement in all of this? What are we supposed to think or consider about his lack of commentary on the events that surround -- hell, engulf -- him?


It is only toward the end of the book that you start to realize and understand that perhaps the tale isn’t about the kid at all; that, in the end, it is truly about the Judge. As part philosopher, part archaeologist, part pedophile, part McGyver, part child murderer, part Michael Vick, part lawyer, part magician, part alien and part Bill Bratske, Judge Holden seems to be a man without partisanship, a giant who refuses to pick sides and actually lives to set different entities against each other. He launches into soliloquies on civilization itself and waxes poetic about what war is and means.

Much critical commentary has discussed what the Judge is supposed to represent in the grand scheme of “Blood Meridian.” The fact that he is immortal, appears to dabble in the black arts and conjures up spiritual themes leads to conjecture that he could possibly personify the devil. It was hard for me to argue with critic Harold Bloom’s assertion that the Judge is “the most frightening figure in all of American literature.” The only sure thing to me about the Judge is that he represents the ageless anchor of the book.

“It makes no difference what men think of war, said the judge. War endures. As well ask men what they think of stone. War was always here. Before man was, war waited for him. The ultimate trade awaiting its ultimate practitioner. That is the way it was and will be. That way and not some other way.
“Seen so, war is the truest form of divination. It is the testing of one’s will and the will of another within that larger will which because it binds them is therefore forced to select. War is the ultimate game because war is at last a forcing of the unity of existence. War is god.”

“For whoever makes a shelter of reeds and hides has joined his spirit to the common destiny of creatures and he will subside back into the primal mud with scarcely a cry. But who builds in stone seeks to alter the structure of the universe …”

“The man who believes that the secrets of the world are forever hidden lives in mystery and fear. Superstition will drag him down. The rain will erode the deeds of his life. But that man who sets himself the task of singling out the thread of order from the tapestry will by the decision alone have taken charge of the world and it is only by such taking charge that he will effect a way to dictate the terms of his own fate.”

“Your heart’s desire is to be told some mystery. The mystery is that there is no mystery.”

McCarthy offers tremendous detail of the architecture, setting and topography of the desert. Yet one thing I took some issue with was the caricature-ish depictions of dialogue at times (such as the four lines below), which led me to wonder whether this was lazy writing or a necessary tool to set the scene. It reminded me of spaghetti Westerns where tumbleweeds roll through deserted towns and one beleaguered rustler says to the other, “It’s quiet” (long pause, wait for it), before adding, “Almost too quiet.”

“‘This is a terrible place to die in.’
“‘Where’s a good one?’”

“In truth they did not look like men who might have whiskey they hadnt drunk.”

“‘Cant or wont?’
‘You pick the one that best suits you.”

“I don’t threaten people. I told him I’d whip his ass and that’s as good as notarized.’
‘You don’t call that a threat?’
Brown looked up. ‘It was not no threat. It was a promise.’”

Through the course of the story, the kid has weathered being jailed; stabbed; shot by an arrow and enduring its subsequent harrowing removal; trekking through the snowy mountains without gear; traversing the desert without supplies or water; surviving attacks in the midst of night while he sleeps; being chased by a thousand Indians; and escaping unthinkable death and torture at the hands of scores of savages on a number of occasions. Still, in the end, he meets a fate similar to Elvis Presley, which leads us to ask, “What was it all about? What are we supposed to take out of the strange and seemingly pointless journey of the kid? Or are we supposed to taking anything at all from it?"


When the kid elects to pass up killing the Judge on four different occasions, it appears to be a pivotal part of the book; it feels if his fate is sealed from there, which naturally makes me wonder whether the kid wanted to die after all, wanted to be put of his misery, a broken, confused man now middle-aged and lost. For all its faults, the Glanton Gang in essence represented the only family the kid ever knew, and when the scoundrel misfits dispersed to their demise (the death of the black Jackson was very poetic in the ultimate attack on the gang) or other outposts, the family dissolved, leaving the kid to drift aimlessly, deeper and deeper into outright immorality. He even purchases a morbid necklace that had once belonged to one of his colleagues, a suitable symbol that represents his desire to remember that lost family. Even his one attempt to confide and possibly confess his past turns out to fall on the deaf ears of a dead woman. And through it all, McCarthy accomplishes the trick of keeping the kid morally ambiguous until and through the very end.

In the end, the kid-turned-man is forced to kill a mirror image of himself as a kid. He sees himself in Ellrod (“This country was filled with violent children orphaned by war.”), who says, “They aint nobody done it yet”, which is a repeat of a line the kid used in his youth upon being told he was almost killed. Interestingly, it was at this point, when the kid has to end Ellrod’s life before it truly begins, that McCarthy chooses to subtly begin referring to the kid as the man. In fact, Ellrod is the same age, 15, as the kid was when he was first shot, so having to murder Ellrod in self-defense (“You wouldn’t of lived anyway, the man said.”) feels as if it is closing the chapter on his youth, wrapping up one more loose end before the kid can finally rest in peace.

McCarthy evokes echoes of Stephen King at times (in particular with the lines “But someplace in the scheme of things this world must touch the other.” and “I wonder if there’s other worlds like this, he said. Or if this is the only one.”, which reminds of King’s phrasing from Jake upon one of his deaths: “There are other worlds than these.”) and creates some beautifully tension-filled dialogue between the kid and the Judge in building up to the book’s climax. During the inevitable squareoff between the duo after so many years, the Judge talks of fate and destiny as the kid parries the verbal threats up until the end, which is only hinted at as something brutal and ghastly (many have made the point that, after so many pages of unthinkable violence, the kid’s murder and must have been something horrific indeed if it goes undetailed; others have commented that perhaps the Judge, after so many years of pursuit, finally rapes the kid, who is possibly a voluntary participant). A suitable ending, this is a wonderfully constructed scene by a master at his best, interweaving tension, philosophy, beauty and the looming, lingering threat of imminent death.

“The last of the true. The last of the true. I’d say they’re all gone under now saving me and thee. Would you not?”

“Drink up, he said. Drink up. This night thy soul may be required of thee.”

Unfortunately, I have to say that the book’s epilogue is a big-time “WTF!?” In my opinion, the following of someone putting the holes for fence posts on the prairie may relate to someone finally attempting to contain the violence and bring order to the outlaw West. It could also signify the arrival of someone who will possibly, eventually challenge the Judge. But in my mind, it just seems oddly misplaced in terms of context.

When taken as a whole, though, the confusing aspect of the epilogue doesn’t take away from what many consider to be McCarthy’s true masterpiece, a book called by Bloom “the ultimate Western, not to be surpassed” and a “prose epic,” and compared to Melville’s “Moby Dick.” In fact, “Blood Meridian” was considered the second-most-important work of American fiction in the last quarter century in a 2006 poll of writers. McCarthy’s choice to interject himself only as a narrator to the unimaginable -- yet true and real -- violence of the Mexico-Texas borderlands in this time, along with his decision to employ the kid only as a guide on this journey, forces the reader to handle the heavy lifting of judgment and categorizing who is good and evil.

For those able to withstand the gag-reflex-threatening violence of the tale until its final words, taking on the task of assigning morality seems easy in comparison -- if impossible to answer definitively.

“His origins are become remote as is his destiny and not again in all the world’s turning will there be terrains so wild and barbarous to try whether the stuff of creation may be shaped to man’s will or whether his own heart is not another kind of clay.”

“Moral law is an invention of mankind for the disenfranchisement of the powerful in favor of the weak.”

“He never sleeps. He says that he will never die. He dances in light and in shadow and he is a great favorite. He never sleeps, the judge. He is dancing, dancing. He says that he will never die.”