Dead Meat

It's official: this blog is dead. The new one is not quite finished, but it's good enough for TV, as they say. Surprise of surprises, the link is:

http://www.nicktully.com

Over and out.

Blog on Life Support

This is probably going to be the second-to-last post on this blog. Over the past week I've been diligently (read: not so diligently) working on a new site that's almost ready to be shown. It's going to be all professional-like, with a reel, photo gallery, resume, etc. It'll have a blog as well, although it will be a little more sanitized (read: boring) than this one. In an effort to make myself look like a professional "something," I'm upgrading the vehicle and downgrading the content. I'll post here again once I've put the final touches on the new guy, but that's likely going to be it. It's been swell, blogger, but we both knew this wasn't going to last.

Cheney and Westbrook, Together At Last

I really wish I had noticed that I didn't write "are" in the last comment, but the joke still holds.

Blast From the (not so distant) Past

I got a package from my brother in the mail today, a sort of belated birthday present. The package contained a "Grow Mother Mary," which is akin to one of those tiny alligator things that you put in a two liter bottle filled with water and it grows to six times its size, except it's shaped like the Virgin Mother instead of an alligator. This is the part that makes it a present, says my brother, since he was already going to send me the other half of the package - a remixed collection of songs from his old band, The Dakota.


There was also a handwritten note (how quaint!) explaining the process of the remix and a little bit of history about some of the songs. I'm listening to the record as I write this, and it's forcing back some long forgotten memories... it's been at least ten years since I've seen The Dakota, so all these memories are from a time when I was a much different person. I think that most people are constantly evolving; I've come a long way since these songs were written and it's very strange to go back. I expect, by the end of this record, to snap back to present day and marvel at just how much I've grown.

Between the ages of 14 and 18, I was legitimately a fan of thrash metal. My taste in movies and literature were largely a product of what I perceived as deep or meaningful, but not music; I liked what I liked, and it was that simple. I tended to be dismissive of popular music, but I never professed to like music because it had integrity. I thought Bob Dylan was boring then, and I do now. It's strange to listen to thrash metal now, since it's no longer appealing to me in any way. The Dakota has sentimental value, and I could probably stand listening to some Converge every once in a long while, but the time when I could go see one of these bands live has long passed.

Instead, I'm thinking about myself in high school, and it's kind of embarrassing. I used to wear Dickies (even though I never really liked them). I always had a chain wallet, and I went through a phase where the chain attached to my wallet simply could not be long enough; it may have reached my knee at one point. Sometimes it would get stuck in the back of my chair in class and I would struggle to free myself before anyone noticed how ridiculous it looked. I used to carry only the shittiest backpacks I could find, and they would always be covered in patches and buttons from bands that I was sure no one had ever heard of. I would always wear hooded sweatshirts, and I doubt they ever got washed. It's a miracle that any girl took interest in me; I was very opinionated, and my opinions were always framed in a world I thought was black and white. I was overtly self righteous. I was, for some inexplicable reason, actually jealous of my friends that had family problems (I think it related to my idea that, in order to have integrity, you had to have some kind of dysfunction in your life). Somehow, in the midst of all this obnoxiousness, I managed to find two (TWO!) girls to have long-term relationships with.

What's even more fascinating is that, since I began to realize just how stupid and childish most of this stuff was, I have had comparably awful luck with finding girlfriends. My success with women has scaled inversely with my self-awareness. I'm smarter than I've ever been, I better understand the nuances of social interaction, I dress in normal clothes, I'm comfortable in my tastes in food, music, movies, and literature. It seems counterintuitive that I would be single for five-plus years. I feel that part of it may be largely circumstantial - I'm no longer in school, where meeting and getting to know people was not only easy, but unavoidable. But a more critical look may reveal that part of the problem is geographical. Los Angeles is the only city I've ever been to (or lived in) where a significant percentage of the population wears costumes rather than clothing. I used to do an honest double-take when I saw someone wearing a scarf in the summer, a tie with a t-shirt, or sunglasses while indoors and/or at night. I never thought I'd see a man wearing Uggs. It's "New" New Wave; a sort of perversion of post-modernism. Fashion should never outweigh utility the way it does in LA.

If nothing else, this observation supports my experience. When I dressed like a fool and showed no humility or sense of awareness, I got girls. I've seen, firsthand, this theory at work in my adult life: the guys who try too hard to dress outlandish are the ones who get the women. It would almost be enough to get me to revert back to my high school personality if the women these guys got weren't so universally vapid. But I've apparently strayed waaaay off topic. This started with The Dakota.

I remember most of the songs on this record (which stopped playing a long time ago; I've been rambling). I remember having a lot of fun going to see my brother's band. And I remember always feeling like I was on the verge of being a part of the whole scene, but never quite believing in it enough to commit myself to it. As a result, all the memories associated with this record feel more like a series of observations than experiences. I was always just on the outside of the circle, looking in. I can even remember the exact day when I officially abandoned it all for good. I loved listening to this record, but not for the reasons I expected.

The second half of my belated birthday present still awaits, so I think it's time to go throw this bitch in the tub and see what happens.

Another Unemployment Movie List

I have once again found myself without steady work for an extended period of time. Keeping with tradition, I've made a list of all the movies I've watched in that time. I don't know when I'll start working again, so this list is incomplete.

Bruno
All Quiet on the Western Front
Near Dark
Obsessed
The Way of the Gun
High Plains Drifter
Rocky
Rocky 2
Rocky 3
Rocky 4
Heckler
Donnie Brasco
Sunset Blvd
There Will Be Blood
The Orphanage
Little Giants
The Men Who Stare At Goats
Paul Blart: Mall Cop
Seven Pounds
Nick and Norah's Infinite Playlist
Money Train
Bad Boys
Beverly Hills Chihuahua
Hot Fuzz
The International
The Mist
Pearl Harbor
South Central
Stuck on You
Vanishing Point
A Very Sunny Christmas
Bring Me the Head of Alfredo Garcia
Animal House
White Men Can't Jump
District 9
Avatar
The Road Warrior
Bill and Ted's Bogus Journey
The Family Man
Arthur
The Wedding Singer
Harlem Nights
Brazil
My Cousin Vinnie
The Killer Elite
Like Father, Like Son
Daybreakers
Con Air
Requiem for a Dream
Youth in Revolt
World's Greatest Dad
Europa Europa
To Die For
Where The Wild Things Are
Creepshow
Wayne's World 2
Terminator 2: Judgment Day
It Might Get Loud
Zombieland
The Fan
History of the World: Part I
Escape from LA
Watchmen
Welcome Home, Roscoe Jenkins
The Strangers
Pride and Glory
The Rock
Tropic Thunder
Island of the Dead
Prey
The Jerk
Yes Man

Bernard Pollard: Anti-Patriot

This past Sunday, Wes Welker was lost for the playoffs when he tore both his ACL and MCL while making an awkward cut in the Patriots' opening drive. It seems like a fluke accident, since he was not contacted, and was apparently the result of poor turf conditions. However, there are other circumstances that raised an eyebrow or two. Who was the defensive player that fell on top of Welker after he went down? Yes, for the second time in little more than a year, Bernard Pollard, the "Anti-Patriot," has been at the epicenter of a devastating knee injury to a pivotal New England football star, as seen here, to Welker:


And here, to Tom Brady:


Sure, it could be a coincidence. In fact, that seems likely. It seems likely, but it isn't. Let's take a closer look at some of the recent heartbreaks that have happened in the lives of the Patriots. Remember the week 10 game at Indianapolis? The game that New England had all but locked up at halftime, only to suffer the most epic second half collapse in modern memory? Surely, everyone remembers the most critical play of this game, in which Bill Belichick, not trusting his defense, decided to go for it on 4th and 2, on the Pats' own 28 yard line, with 2:08 to play in the 4th. Kevin Faulk was famously denied the critical yardage on a short pass, and the Colts went on to win the game. Did anyone notice who was at Peyton Manning's side at the end of the game? Believe it:


And what about the greatest national tragedy of our time (including 9/11, which is a distant second)? The 2007 Patriots, who had gone 18-0 and were poised to become the first undefeated team since the '72 Dolphins and the first in NFL history to go 19-0, were upset in the Superbowl by the underdog Giants. New England had already beaten the Giants in week 17 to solidify their undefeated regular season. What changed between that game and the Superbowl? To find out, we'll need to take a look at what many believe to be the turning point in that game: Eli Manning miraculously escaping a three man sack and heaving a prayer to David Tyree, who caught the ball against his helmet while being tackled.


Proof positive. Bernard Pollard is the Anti-Patriot. And may his punishment, as he burns in hell for all of eternity, be to have both his ACLs and MCLs torn at breakfast every morning by a devil in a Brady jersey and a goblin in a Welker jersey.

Also, his breakfast will be cold and will taste terrible.