Don't Die Hard...Get Old Hard

Do you know what today is? I know my sister does...it is Live Free or Die Hard release day. John McClane is back, baby! Even though it has been 19 years since he was stuck in the Nakatomi building in LA, but you just can't keep a good action hero down, can you? Honestly, those 1980's action hero's have some serious stamina. Stallone just returned as Rocky after 30 years and he is coming back as John Rambo after 25 years; and let's not forget Harrison Ford, who is picking up the whip again to play Indiana Jones for the first time in two decades.

And who is the action hero nowadays? Who picked up the torch that Schwarzenegger set down when he took up his new political career? Don't try to tell me that Dwayne "the Rock" Johnson, or Vin "XXX" Diesel are the new action heroes, because they really haven't had the success, nor the feel, that our good ole' 1980's action heroes did. My only complaint seeing Bruce back up there this week is that the stuck him with that dork from the Apple commercials instead of Samuel L. Jackson, and that they rated it PG-13.

"Yippee Ki-Yay....er...sucka."

Same to same,

Capt. Pat Hendry

Buzz Kill

I had a surreal experience this weekend when I accidentally took out a chunk of skin by my knee with a chainsaw. It really is not as bad as it sounds, I was extremely lucky and avoided all the tendons, bone, and muscles that are so instrumental to walking and a myriad of other activities. Really it is just a bad ass superficial wound (I think) and in a few weeks I should just have a sweet scar, a good story for parties, and be back up to the same level of activity that I previously was. The sheer horror of the event was not so much in what happened, but what could've happened if the blade had caught me a few centimeters one way or the other.

The rest of this entry will be potentially graphic, so if you are satisfied with the story as it is, please read a different entry, for the GORY details...read on...or for the thrilling conclusion about how this event fits into the grand scheme of the universe, skip down to the last paragraph.

With that out of the way, here is how I now feel fortunate that I was able to "enjoy" this experience to the fullest. I realize that this sounds bizarre, but think about how often you have a fairly seriously wound with minimal repercussions.

First off, I was astounded by how little pain there was. At first I thought it was shock, but the pain just never seemed to arrive. Honestly, this hurt less than a stubbed toe, a sliced finger or a bit tongue. The wound did not ever really express itself using pain as a tool for communication. My best theory on this is that I suppose pain is the body's way of getting one's attention when there is a problem...at this point, my leg had my full attention. They also say that pain is all in the mind and can be overcome, and if this is true I am amazed by the power of the mind to overcome both actual pain or even the expectation of pain.

The next part of this whole experience that was in a strange way worth it, was the ability to look deeper into a part of my body than I ever have before. I have never had that many layers of myself exposed at any point in my life, and I am in no rush to be in that position again, but at the time I really found it fascinating to look at my knee and realize (I mean really know) that all the anatomy you study in school really does apply to you on a personal level. Again, this would've definitely sucked much more if I had done more serious damage, but with the relief that myself and my leg would be fine, I was able to just observe. What I saw was this (click to see pic).

At the ER I watched them cut away the skin they couldn't deal with and then sew up the wound, which at first I avoided looking at, but eventually realized, "When (hopefully never) will I ever be in the position to watch someone cut away a rather sizable portion of my skin and then pass a needle through me to stitch me back up." So I watched enough to quantify this as a complete experience so I would have no regrets afterwards...well, other than regretting that I gouged my leg in the first place.

CONCLUSION

Now I am on the road to recovery and as I look back, I realize that was is most interesting about this experience is that it was nothing like the movies...no screaming, no panic, no blood spurting with each pulse of my heart, no drama at all really. It was so calm I even made a joke with the doctor, asking him if he could play some overly dramatic music as he finished stitching me up. My film professor had a great quote on her bulletin board, "Film tells the truth 24 times a second. Film lies 24 times a second." I always thought I knew what it would be like to get cut this badly, now that it is happened I find that the truth was nothing like I expected it to be. I have always felt that I could live vicariously through film, but the truth of the matter is, you can only really experience what you live through.

Film, television, books, music, stories...they all shape the way we perceive things, and that is their power; to take the things we have not (and may never) experience and still somehow allow us to walk away with the impression that we have been there and we know.

I have waxed the philosophic long enough.

Same to same,

Hendry

Arrrrr....Arrrrrgggghhhhh!

Despite warnings from several national critics, whom I barely trust, and the more substantial warnings of people I know, I decided to go check out the third installment in the Pirates of the Caribbean trilogy. I was pleasantly surprised to find that overall I enjoyed the experience, but then again, nothing helps out your opinion of a film more than expecting it to be absolutely awful.

It really wasn't that bad. There were a lot of lines and physical moments that made me laugh, and there were some gorgeous effects that I didn't feel dragged on as some had criticized; however, the plot and character progression were terrible...just terrible. It wasn't that it was hard to follow, and with so much logic tossed out the window the viewer eventually just accepts a "que sera, sera" attitude about the whole story. What really makes the film difficult are the motives that are driving characters. The scene that defines the film for me was one where five or six major characters were all pointing guns at each other and I realized that I had no real idea why each of these characters would want to shoot one another. I don't know who Jack Sparrow really likes or dislikes, I don't know what criteria Will Turner uses to decide who to cross or double cross, and I can't tell if Elizabeth Swann is in love with anybody. Plus, just when I think that the characters are calming down a bit, there is a plot line introduced surrounding Davy Jones and his former love that was an absolute waste of 30 minutes on film (and frankly if this film were 30 minutes shorter I think most viewers would be just as happy).

I can't say I didn't enjoy it, but in the same way that the new Star Wars episodes couldn't recapture magic onscreen, At World's End represents the final transformation from The Black Pearl, which was a favorite summer film for me, to a carcass no less bloated or insignificant than the beached Kraken...a still somewhat visually impressive shell of what used to be great.

Same to same,

Capt. Patrick Hendry

Rotting Politics

Last night I watched Joe Dante's first installment from Showtime's "Masters of Horror" series. It was a politically charged story titled Homecoming, which was about soldiers who had died in the line of duty during the Iraq war coming back from the grave to vote. If you think this sounds like a ridiculous plot, then you and I would have been in agreement twenty-four hours ago; but what a difference a day makes.

This episode was actually one of the better ones that this series has produced. It wasn't really at all scary, nor was it that gory; but rather, it was one of the most blatant film criticisms of the Bush administrations and the war in Iraq that I have seen. While horror movies have always had a tendency to symbolically reflect underlying political and social unrest in society, Homecoming makes no bones about what issue it is bringing to the table. This piece has no problem suggesting, if not declaring, that the current engagement in Iraq was based on nothing but "horseshit and elbow grease" provided by the republican spin doctors. Just for good measure, it also sprinkles in some serious suggestions that the outcome of the national election is shaped by the party which has the most power and not by the American voting public.

Besides the strong political message, Dante's work also had another surprise in store for me...one of the most tender zombie scenes I have ever witnessed. His use of a shuffling, decomposing, corpse to elicit the sympathy that Americans feel for those soldiers out there making such a large sacrifice is enough to make your eyes mist up.

There are some viewers that would accuse Dante of putting words in the mouths of the deceased, but the observant viewer will notice that he is careful to account for soldiers, citizens and casualties who both approve(d) and disapprove(d) of our country's actions.

Again, not scary...at least not in a supernatural fictitious way.

Same to same,

Capt. Hendry

In My Eyes and Ears

I just finished the novel, Sharpe's Tiger, which was the first in a large series of novels following the adventures of Richard Sharpe, a member of the British Army during the early 1800's. This first adventure follows our hero's instrumental role in the siege of Seringapatam during the British campaign in India during the Napoleonic wars. It is fast paced, seemingly historically accurate, and the character of Sharpe is an enjoyable rogue. The writing style is modern and very easy to read, and the exciting storyline, interesting characters, and well detailed battles make for an excellent summer read.

In the wide world of cinema I recently saw the film Edmund, which I found to be a harder edged Falling Down with William H. Macy replacing Michael Douglas in the lead role. There are some nice dialogues about the unnecessary social games we play and niceties we abide by because we are afraid of how others will perceive us; however, I would have liked to have seen a bit more from the director showing us some hope or suggestion for social change, rather than just showing how our protagonist's anticonformist actions lead him into the most terrible of decisions and situations. Still, the film is worth watching just for Macy's performance.


I also had the chance to finally check out the 1969 best picture Midnight Cowboy. I really liked this film. The performances by John Voigt and Dustin Hoffman were both top notch, and the directing had a lot of surreal moments alongside the bleak hyper-realism that was so popular in the early 1970's. The film is famous for being the only film rated X (although not rated X by today's system) to win the Oscar, and after watching it I do feel that it is one of the more cutting edge films to have won an Oscar. One of those rarer moments when a really good and challenging film gets its due.


And if you are looking for something to massage the ears, I suggest checking out the band I'm From Barcelona. Their album, Let Me Introduce my Friends, plays like adult indie, and the lyrics seem as though they are written about all the things that would be important to you in middle school. The result is pleasant and slightly poppy with a great depth of sound created by the 29 members of the band. Speaking of large bands, I also like the new stuff I am hearing from the Polyphonic Spree...very different than what I had heard from them a few years back. The more I hear the new Bright Eyes album, the more I like it...it has more of a folk influence, which really suits the writing style on this body of work.

Quick Picks:

Blonde Redhead - 23
Kaiser Chiefs - Ruby; Everything is Average Nowadays
I'm From Barcelona - Collection of Stamps
Bright Eyes - If the Brakeman Turns My Way

...and for something with a bit of a beat check out stuff by LCD Soundsystems, or !!!.

This week's single that will not get out of my head: Once and Never Again, by the Long Blondes...I love this woman's voice.

Same to Same,

Capt. Patrick Hendry

Dungeons and Dragons (without Dice)

Father's Day was this past weekend, and your old pal Pat (aka Dad) Hendry scored a pretty sweet gift...maybe.

Perhaps the greatest contribution thus far that DVD technology has brought to the home viewer is the reasonable packaging and pricing of television series to own at home. In fact, it has been so reasonable that I have been able to start rewatching some of the cartoons that I remember fondly from my youth. Thus far both Johnny Quest and DuckTales have not only given me an euphoric sense of deja vu when I revisited them after nearly two decades, but they have also both lived up to (if not surpassed) the greatness that my youthful opinion rated them with.

Now I am going to put those fond childhood memories to the test with this Father's Day gift: the complete early 1980's Dungeons and Dragons series. This is another series that I have a whole slew of half-formed memories about, and most of them are so awesome. Hank with his bow that shot energy bolts, creatures that were both terrifying and mesmerizing, the villain Venger who rode a dark flying horse, and dragons...some with five heads. Yep, this show had it all when I was younger; giant worms, giant spiders, bullfrog men, armies of the dead, weapons of magic, and (of course) a few lessons to be learned about life.

But there is a distinct difference between Dungeons and Dragons, Jonny Quest and DuckTales: that happens to be that D&D has a lot more potential to suck. Even though I think back upon this series with the same amount of affection as the others, I am also a realist. Jonny Quest was one of Hanna Barbara's prime time cartoons, and it was the first cartoon to be aired by all three major networks. Not to mention it has multiple (albeit inferior) reimaginings of the series. DuckTales had the backing of Walt Disney empire and classic characters that had already stood the test of time blended with all the action of Indiana Jones. It was also the success of this cartoon that made it the cornerstone of the Disney afternoon quartet that followed.

Even in my fairly kind childhood memories, I already know that Dungeons and Dragons has some issues that may not translate well to my adult sensibilities. First off, and potentially most devastating, is Uni the unicorn. This "cute" animal character seems thrown in only because some ad exec somewhere said, "this cartoon needs a cute dog or something" to compete with Schooby-Doo or Bandit. Uni really brought none of the depth that these classic canines brought, what she did bring was usually the most frustrating and idiotic of actions cleverly accented by a taunting bleat. There is also the issue of Dungeomaster, who essentially is a watered down Yoda. The show itself had a goal for the characters, which was to escape the fantasy land they were trapped in and return to good ole twentieth century USA; so naturally there are a ton of episodes where they almost, but don't quite make it...that can get annoying. Lastly, I have no idea how the animation will hold up after 25 years.

Still, I absolutely cannot wait to see this series. Just the thought of finally reinforcing or disputing so many potential memories makes me giddy. As I said, the deja vu of these experiences is euphoric, I just hope the series is decent.

Same to same,

Capt. Hendry

An Eyeful of Gore

The other night I watched a great little Japanese gorefest called Meatball Machine. The film plot is roughly summed up thus: aliens are overtaking people and turning them into gruesome cyborgs that fight their battles for them...obviously. The transformation scenes were really well effected (reminiscent at times of some of the stomach-churning scenes in John Carpenter's The Thing) and they climaxed with those crossed discs being forced into the host's eye sockets (see image).

I am not sure that there are any other on-screen mutilations that make me twitch, squirm, grit my teeth, and utter forced exclamations like "Erg!" more than eye damage. Its not that I can't watch effects involving the eyes, but in the massive backlog of decapitations, dismemberments, eviscerations, broken limbs, crushed craniums, pulled teeth, slices, dices, rips, tears, burns, scrapes and peels, it is the eye effects that really stand out and can be quickly recalled. I think this is probably true for most people. Whether it is our aversion to touching our own eyes, the fluid-filled consistency of these organs, or the subliminal horror instilled by the thought of the negative space in our skull an empty socket creates: who can say. The point is, eye mutilations create colorful conversations, so here are what I consider my top five in film:

5) The Terminator - While not the most visually graphic of effects, there is something about Schwarzenegger's unfeeling performance as he cuts out his own eye that reinforces how unstoppable he is supposed to be in this robotic role.

4) Meatball Machine - This is one of those situations where you know what is coming, and you can't help but wonder with morbid curiosity how much will be shown. Well...a lot is. It is the sheer carnage of this effect that I find unique. This effect goes above and beyond a poke or a pop...it is just plain destructive.

3) Zombi 2 - A split door jamb, a pair of zombie hands, and a woman's head are a recipe for disaster in this classic by gore godfather Lucio Fulchi. Like Meatball Machine, it is more about the length of time and inevitability of the outcome that makes this effect a winner.

2) Thriller: A Cruel Picture - The one-eyed heroine of this film, honored by Quentin Tarantino in the Kill Bill duology, does not don the patch from the beginning of the film. The scene where she loses her optical orb is rumored (and confirmed by the film's actress) to have been filmed using a real corpse at a medical institution. The act itself is very fast and tightly cut by the editor, but you inevitably end up watching it over and over trying to decide if it is real or not.

1) Un Chien Andalou - While originally I was going to put this at number four, I bumped it all the way to the top after rewatching it here for the first time in at least five years. Even seeing a lower res clip on the computer I still felt serious tension in my shoulders, I was cringing, and I made two exclamations despite myself. Another situation where reality is more effective than illusion, this surrealist film sliced a cow eyeball for the camera. It feels real...I guess it is real...and after almost eighty years, it hasn't been topped in my opinion.

So if you feel ready to stomach them, put on the Pixies' tune Debaser, hop on Netflix, Youtube or Google video, and start organizing a jaw-dropping/eye-popping film festival for you and your good friends.

Same to same,

Capt. Hendry

You are Entering a Dimension of Less Sight and Sound

I've been steadily working my way through the second season of The Twilight Zone, and the other night I caught an episode that was so different from the bulk of the series it was as if it had been filmed in...well, the Twilight Zone. The episode, titled The Lateness of the Hour, opened with that highly recognizable, anxiety-inducing music, it had the usual stand-up introduction by the even-speaking Rod Serling, and it was what I would deem a "classic" episode, ending with an ironic twist that left the characters and viewers in a state of melancholy, tinged with a bit of hopelessness and sprinkled liberally with loneliness. So what was so utterly bizarre about this episode? The visual quality.

It wasn't poorly shot, or lit or blocked; but, it was actually shot using a different medium, rather than film they used videotape. It doesn't take an experienced eye to notice the difference between these two methods of visual recording: think of the way a soap opera or a game show looks of a lesser video quality than an hour long television drama. While in this day and age videotape as a medium has seen vast improvements, back in the 1960's the qualitative difference was staggering. Film had such a rich quality about it, allowing the viewer to notice all the subtle shifts in grays (since the second season was shot in black and white), and it also gave a nice sense of depth; on the flip side, blacks and whites are very strong on videotape, but the grays get lost and blurred, not to mention that the sense of space and depth feels odd. I guess one way to put it would be to say that watching The Twilight Zone shot in film feels like watching a small movie, while watching it shot on videotape feels like you are watching a play that was taped with a camcorder.

Noticing how much this episode looked like a staged play, I began to wonder if The Twilight Zone was actually doing something fairly innovative by originally airing this episode live. There were few scene changes, and costume changes were minimal as well. There was a slight waver to most of the camera shots, and an observant viewer could even notice the slight shift in the picture as it was switched from camera to camera, which usually denotes some issues with the synchronization and timing of cameras being switched live. I had always felt that this anthology paid a great amount of attention to detail, so I gave CBS the benefit of the doubt and theorized that this must be a live taped special.

I was wrong.

The history behind this episode (according to the handiest web site I know, Wikipedia) is summed up thus: Serling and Co. were running up a budget of roughly $65,000 an episode. In order to save some money, CBS decided to videotape six episodes thereby saving money on editing and film stock. The end result was only $30,000 saved altogether, and all the episodes looked poor when compared to the beauty of the rest of the series. After these six were shot, it was never attempted again for The Twilight Zone.

I haven't watched all six episodes, but the The Lateness of the Hour was pretty good. The acting was solid and I liked the story that was penned by the Serling himself, but sadly it is an episode that is doomed never to garner the same respect as so many others that it rivals. This is all due to what should be regarded as a poor decision that may have saved $5,000 at the time but forevermore ruined The Lateness of the Hour.

Same to same,

Capt. Patrick Hendry

ps. more to come as I watch the other episodes that befell such a sad fate

Are You Gonna Go My Way?

According to Wikipedia, it is some body's 100th birthday this year...somebody that most of us get to see practically every day. Who is this centenarian I speak of? Your friend and mine, the directional turn signal on your car.

D.T. Signal was born in 1907, but it would be over 30 years before he really found his way in the world and became the commonplace auto accoutrement that we are used to today. Although spasmodic and erratic in personality, he has served us faithfully, helping us to let others know our intentions when words just wouldn't do. On occasion, he is misused by those inattentive to him and can be deceiving for miles at a time, but over the years he has sought to make himself a better person and increased his communication skills with those he works with. And you think he doesn't work hard for you? That poor boy fires off at least 60, and when his is looking for a good cardio workout, up to 120 times a minute. But don't let that stop you from using him often, he keeps himself in remarkably good shape, and he even has a back-up team of sidekicks (the Hand Signals) in case he is under the weather.

That being said, let me tell you about something that really steams me: people who refuse to use their turn signal lights. With the exception of people who love riding my tail when driving, I don't know if I can think of one other thing that bothers me more on the road. If you are driving near me, I like knowing where you are going. If you are going to cut in front of me, or zip around me, or just plain are getting off the road I am on...just let me know. Even if you think to yourself, "My turning or changing lanes isn't really going to affect this guy" why not be courteous and just give me that little visual confirmation of what you are about to do.

Furthermore, why wouldn't you use your turn signal? It is absolutely effortless; a little flick of the wrist, and my boy DTS does the rest. Here are my three theories: 1) People are generally lazy - despite how easy it is...they still have to do something. 2) People just cannot be bothered -they aren't necessarily lazy, they just don't care...besides, that guy behind me will figure it out once I start turning. 3) People are just rude or expect rudeness from others - if I signal, they may not let me into that lane. I accept none of these excuses.

Whether we realize it or not, driving is a social event, and arguably it is the most interaction we have with other people during the day. So make it count. Team up with Direction T. Signal and the only thing you stand to lose is a whole fistful of middle fingers coming your way.

Same to same,

Capt. Hendry

An Appeal to Hollywood...Less is More

Is it me, or has Hollywood forgotten how to tell a great story in two hours...or (dare I say it?) a scant hour and a half? There was a time when anything in theaters over 120 minutes had better be pretty epic, and the producers made sure that there was an intermission so that the audience could enjoy the last half of the film without suffering full bladders, stiff knees or sore asses. Some films certainly need some time to condense major amounts of material, and they do it well (I'm looking at you Lord of the Rings); but when did comic book films like Spider-Man start needing more than ninety minutes or even two hours? And why does the original King Kong feel so much larger than life when compared to the monstrous three hour remake? If you've got a lot to say, may I suggest the smaller screen? Television is becoming more cinematic all the time, and here is an example where both film and television can achieve great things with the same material.

As I have mentioned before, I am a big fan of the Horatio Hornblower novels written by C.S. Forester, and I must say that I am also a big fan of the film adaptations that have been made of these stories. Up until last night I had only seen the more recent A&E adaptations starring Ioan Gruffudd, but I finally had the opportunity to watch the earlier adaptation that starred Gregory Peck. It is very rare that I feel an equal amount of enjoyment from two very different versions, but these are both delights. Both adaptations have great acting, and the casting is similar enough that bouncing between these two versions feels really comfortable. Both versions also are adept at capturing the lusty, swashbuckling, seafaring adventure that saturates the novels, while at the same time creating compelling dramatic moments that are inherent in times of political and personal unrest.

There was one major difference between these two adaptations, and that is the amount of material covered versus duration. The version filmed in 1951 is a lesson in screenplay adaptation. In a mere two hours, this film covered the major events of three complete novels. While it obviously could not cram in every detail of Hornblower's adventures, I feel that it really accomplished creating an intriguing storyline, character development and arcing relationships. It was well written, and more importantly, well condensed from the novelization. That is not to say that the A&E versions were not, they were excellent adaptations and the amount of detail that they translate from the novel is outstanding; however, after eight different episodes (each clocking in over an hour) again only three novels are touched upon.

There are two great mediums of delivery out there for your stories...one is film, the other is television. I am perfectly willing to sit and follow one large arcing story over an entire season's worth of television (especially cinematic television like Band of Brothers, Deadwood or Rome), but when I watch my movies I like 'em shorter and sweeter. When I sit to watch a television series, I am ready to give you thirteen or even twenty-six hours of my attention, so take your time and pack in the details; but if you decided to make a film, make it tight and treat each little minute with respect, 'cause once you get by that two hour mark I better still be there for a good reason.

Same to same,

Capt. Patrick Henry

Mustache - Wear if you Dare

I have thought over the past couple of years that it might be nice to have a mustache, if for no other reason than that it is one of the few facial hair combinations I have not tried out. Well, that isn't entirely true, I did have one in a play where I portrayed a 1920's film director, and it was fashionable in its own way (perhaps only because it was reinforced by the nostalgia of the role I was playing). Still in the greater part of a decade that has passed, I have not grown a solitary mustache of any kind.

Most people seem to think this has been a wise decision on my part. I am not a law enforcement officer, biker, rescue worker, armed forces member, country music star, baseball player, NASCAR fan nor a member of any of the other various social or employment based groups that have embraced the mustache and made it their own. My particular social group seems to be lacking an identifying mustache, and it has fallen into that less distinctive jumble of goatees, beards and sideburns. In this particular group a mustache comes across as usually being creepy, which is unfortunate because just once I'd like to bust out a nice simple 'stache and feel dashing like Eroll Flynn, Vincent Price or even Frank Zappa.

Even more depressing, my great-grandfather had a toothbrush mustache. (Not sure what I am talking about? What if I say a Hitler mustache?) A part of me has always had a desire to emulate this predecessor of mine (my Polish great-grandfather) with a similar styling of facial hair, but I think realistically I must accept that this mustache has been forever tainted. If I bust that puppy out, I will without a doubt be seen as trying to be more Aryan than ancestral.

So for now, I will stay with my beards and goatees and every now and then the regrettable clean shave. Perhaps in the future I will go back to those sweet lambchop sideburns I had in high school, for as one teacher said to me "I love your sideburns, they were very stylish back in the 1700's." To this day I really think that she was giving me a compliment, but I still haven't found a good way to interpret, "Hey a**hole! Nice Hitler 'stache!"

Same to same,

Hendry

Every Now and Then They Play Our Song

"We've been having fun all summer long..." Ah, summer has arrived. While this is by no means my favorite season, there are things I love about it: barbecues, blockbusters and beach music. There is nothing like cranking Jan and Dean or the Beach Boys when you are cruising around under the sun. And don't think that their sound has been lost by today's bands.

If you think that the Beach Boys had their day in the sun and have simply drifted away, think again, 'cause indie rock is embracing them as we speak. Don't believe me? Take a listen to these cool tunes and get back to me:

Besnard Lakes - Disaster
Panda Bear - Comfy in Nautica
The Shins - Phantom Limb

Plus you can find some cool covers of God Only Knows by Petra Hayden and Ben Kweller.

And if you are looking for sounds of the summer surf, but don't not necessarily high-pitched harmonizing, I suggest riding the tight guitar riffs of good old fashioned surf music. You may be familiar with Dick Dale, the Surfaris and maybe even the Ventures, but there is newer, faster, harder surf to find.

When it comes to new surf hybrids, you've got to love the sci-fi surf rock of Man or Astroman? Imagine dropping MST3K into a blender with punk and then playing it back through a conch shell and you get this aural treat. Or if you want something more traditional, the Boss Marians sound like they recorded their tracks in the early sixties instead of the late nineties.

On the side, I also have been listening lately to the Cinematics, the Hold Steady, Arthur Hammond jr, and I feel like I am rediscovering Granddaddy. And if you happen to listen to it, can you tell me what you think of the CocoRosie song Rainbowwarriors. I can't tell if it is a good song or not, but the more I hear it, the more it gets stuck in my head and the more I think I might like it.

Same to Same,

Pat Hendry

Flogging

I've just started reading the first of Bernard Cromwell's series following the adventures of Richard Sharpe, a British soldier in the early 19th century. In this first novel, one of the characters is sentenced to receive the punishment of 2000 lashes, which seemed such an absurdly high number, I had to do some research.

I was blown away when I found this quote here:

"At the time of the American Revolution, the British Army's limit on lashes was flexible--up to as many as 500, 1,000, or even 2,000 lashes. The Massachusetts legislature, however, imposed the New Testament maximum of 39 strokes, and that standard was established in the Continental Congress's Articles of War of 1775"

Holy Shit!!! Imagine any movie where you have seen some poor soul get ten strokes with the cat. Now multiply that two hundred times. Even if the punishment was being received at the blistering speed of one stroke every five seconds, this would still translate to practically three solid hours of whipping.

The article cited above also talks of how George Washington had congress raise the maximum number of strokes to 100 and then pushed for 500.

That's all I've got...just awe for the amount of fleshripping that kept men in line as late as 1881 in the British military.

Same to same,

Hendry