Rosenbush Cafe

Natalie advises me in the Eastern Time Zone that it is a new month. The Fourth of July is Friday and Rosenbush Café will be opened for lunch only. July will be a busy month with plenty of updates and with a bit of luck the site will finally get moved to the newer, faster virtual server. The process has been postponed repeatedly; we’ve lost some photo links again and as a result I’ve been behind in my correspondence with the cats at Milo Institute of Feline Well-Being. Henny Ben Tassus has promised that if the site is not moved by July 10th he is hiring high-powered feminist attorney Gloria All-fed to sue the rat-bastard responsible for losing us prime time communication and donations for our Presicattle catidate.

Remember, VOTE FELINE!

We promise to save the many thousands of well intentioned but wayward felines across this nation and urge Presidential Candidates Mama Ubama and Feign Mochaine to do likewise. Hillary Catlinton has already donated 3 million killowats of pure positive energy.

We’ll see you at the Café fireworks festivities Friday night. We promise plenty of bright lights in the sky.

Meow.

Angelina Jolie ‘drives’ James McAvoy towards his destiny

Reviewed by Henry B. Rosenbush

Wanted is enjoyable but not for the faint-hearted or moviegoers with weak constitutions, young children or anyone who is adversely affected by excruciatingly loud sound effects and copious amounts of blood, exploding heads and lengthy chase sequences. All others step up to the ticket windows for the first action film of the summer, 2008. Expect nice payoff in the weeks before the Batman sequel, The Dark Knight flies into theaters, July 18th, to take control of screens for the remainder of the summer movie season.

For now, however,Wanted is everything the trailers promise; mindless action over the thematic and pitched at a decibel level equivalent to that of sitting inside a jet engine. Like its protagonist, whose anxiety attacks produce 400 heartbeats per minute, Wanted is a movie that even in its brief quieter moments is still too loud.

James McAvoy co stars with Angelina Jolie and Morgan Freeman in the highly anticipated Russian director Timur Bekmanbetov’s first American film. Best known in Russia for his double act of Night Watch and Day Watch, a pair of action filled vampire-cum-good versus evil opuses that have already achieved cult status in the west. Those films required the suspension of disbelief; creating mythology through serious subtext, anchored by witchcraft-induced abortion as an attempt to free oneself from a life perceived as not worthwhile. In the new film, the protagonist Wesley Gibson (McAvoy), too, is a living an existence that on the surface seems lost and useless, but in Watch and Wanted both men have innate abilities waiting to burst forth in spurts of blood and violence.

In Night Watch it was the Gloom, in Day Watch, the Chalk of Fate and in Wanted it’s the Loom of Fate that propels the narrative. It’s a clever idea examined in the most perfunctory manner but at least allows production designer John Myhre the opportunity to construct a huge loom with a seemingly endless supply of yarn that works as a sort of 1,000 year old computer and resembles a massive spider’s web.

Gibson is, as most film critics have acknowledged, similar to the Edward Norton character in Fight Club; from the voice over narration to being an acknowledged loser in a deadend job, in this case working as an accountant. His best friend is sleeping with his girl friend and his boss is a staple-wielding controlling loser of her own constantly snapping the stapler near his ears.

Everything changes, especially after a riveting opening set piece, where assassins battle one another on Chicago high-rise rooftops before one, Mr. X (David Patrick O’Hara) is killed by another Cross (Thomas Kretschmann). Mr. X is the long estranged father or Wesley Gibson, who will later be rescued by Fox and taken on a nighttime chase sequence that bends the rules of physics as easily as Fox and Cross bend bullets. Using a variation on the “bullet-time” effects from the Matrix Trilogy, these assassins can make projectiles turn corners and although a cool effect it soon becomes a bit tiresome since it is used repeatedly.

The chase scene is outlandish as any audiences are likely to see and rivals the red car drive across the Russian apartment building in Day Watch.

Fox takes Gibson to Mill No 17 which houses the Fraternity, an organization that trains assassins and after meeting Sloan (Morgan Freeman) begins a extremely violent transformation from sheep into wolf as other members beat, stab and generally abuse the hapless fellow before turning him into a killer who is the equal - and perhaps better - than Cross. The stage is thus set for revenge as Gibson prepares to avenge his father’s death on the way to a less-than-surprising revelation concerning Cross, Fox and, indeed, Sloan.

The adaptation of the popular comic by Mark Millar and J.G. Jones (there is a name plate for J.G. Millar behind Wesley’s cubicle at work) works well as this kind of entertainment is a cartoon for adults; loser gets to avenge himself on nasty co-worker, boss, kiss the tatted Fox and no matter what kind of injury he sustains is able to have a rejuvenation bath to heal! If that isn’t a cartoon few other movies are, but with plenty of serious subtext; Cross leaves the Fraternity because someone broke the code of the 1,000 year old organization and he feels obligated to set it right.

Production values are all top drawer from the editing and photography to Danny Elfman’s score. The film climaxes a few too many times but the train sequence and the opening forty minutes will leave the audience hyperventilating. If those who cannot stomach graphic violence can get beyond the sadistic treatment of Wesley the other mayhem is quick and often humorous, albeit darkly so.

Acting is relatively good with Freeman in his usual smooth mode, while Jolie has little dialogue but makes up for it with plenty of action, and Terence Stamp is nearly wasted in an extended cameo but it’s good to see Watch hero Konstantin Khabensky as “The Exterminator”, a character with pet rats whose explosive tendencies play heavily into the blood-soaked finale at the textile mill.

Keeping everything on the right track is McAvoy, who although diminutive is impressive and on-screen for most of the running time giving him ample opportunities to shine. Filmed on location in Chicago, New York and Prague (where studio work was accomplished) are well chosen and the many computer-generated effects fit in nicely with the live action stunts.

One particularly nice scene has the hero smash the face of his odious best friend - who is sleeping with Gibson’s shrill girlfriend - with a computer keyboard which spells out an expletive in letters and teeth! As expected, there are plenty of head shots, especially from Cross, who uses a specialized “movie” bullet capable of returning to his far away location so as to not leave evidence at crime scenes. Even CSI: NY would have difficulty locating this killer as he always appears to be miles away from the actual carnage.

As earlier indicated, the hard R Rating is well earned for the pervasive graphic violence, language, sexuality and one good bare-assed tattoed lass, who may - or may not be - Jolie.

Only Brad Pitt knows for certain!

A Universal release, presented with Spyglass Entertainment in association with Relativity Media, of a Marc Platt/Kickstart production, in association with Top Cow. Produced by Platt, Jim Lemley, Jason Netter and Iain Smith; Executive producers, Adam Siegel, Marc Silvestri, Roger Birnbaum and Gary Barber; Co-producers, Mark Millar, J.G. Jones, Chris Carlisle, Sally French and Jared LeBoff. Directed by Timur Bekmambetov from a screenplay by Michael Brandt, Derek Haas and Chris Morgan; story, Brandt and Haas all based on the series of comicstrips by Mark Millar and J.G. Jones. Camera (Deluxe color, Panavision widescreen), Mitchell Amundsen; editor, David Brenner; music, Danny Elfman; music supervisor, Kathy Nelson; production designer, John Myhre; supervising art director, Tomas Voth; art directors, Patrick Sullivan, David Baxa, Martin Vackar; set designers, Katerina Koutska, David Vondrasek, Frantisek Weber, Steven Saylor, Allan Fleischman; set decorator, Richard Roberts; costume designer, Varya Avdyushko; sound (DTS/SDDS/Dolby Digital), Petr Forejt; supervising sound editor, Wylie Stateman; re-recording mixers, Chris Jenkins, Frank A. Montano; visual effects supervisors, Stefen Fangmeier, Jon Farhat; visual effects, Bazelevs, Framestore CFC, Hammerhead Prods.; special effects supervisor, Dominic Tuohy; stunt coordinators, Mic Rodgers, Nick Gillard, Martin Hub, Rick Lefevour; fight coordinator, C.C. Smiff; assistant director, Luc Etienne; second unit director, Dmitry Kiselev; second unit camera, Tim Wooster; New York unit camera, John Toll; casting, Mindy Marin.

Reviewed at the Amstar Stadium 14, Anderson, SC, June 28, 2008. MPAA Rating R for Strong Bloody Violence Throughout, Pervasive Language, Brief Nudity and Some Sexuality. Running time: 1:50.

According to The Humane Society of the United States the average number of litters a fertile cat produces in a year is 3 and in 7 years one fertile cat, and her kittens, can produce 420,000 offsrpings.

Don’t think we have the numbers to make a difference in this year’s election?

Vote Feline.

Obama or McCain?

How about Clarence the Cross-Eyed Lion or Morris the Cat?

At the Milo Institute for Feline Well-Being we will select from our ranks a cat we believe will be the next Presicat of the United States of Americat

In the coming weeks, we’ll reveal the catitdate from our Republicats, Democats and Independicats.

Could it be Kitya, Katja or Pink,Too? Perhaps Talia Biscuits, Simone de bon de Bont, Tippy Van Hesling or Pink Martini.

Odds are in favor of Kitya Coy as Vice Presicat or even Precious. But with Cous Cous, Henny Ben Tassus, Kara Mia Pia and Shy Girl undecided the brother-sister spin masters Biancho Banco Kittery and Calico Guggenheim Kittery, both of the Maine Kitteries, are busy combing the feral vote with flea-embedded reporters Uncle Wally and Orange Roughy, IV examining the pride.

H. Bosch will return from the cosmos this weekend to name the “puss that will lead us away from catastrophe.” If the world indeed will end in 2012 no reason for “crying over split milk” when you turn it into the fuel of the future.

Our highly educated group understands how to deal with high fuel prices, corrupt justice department officals, terrorists, the liberal media, christian loons and Islamic extremists. Says Cous Cous, “If we had shubbery in the White House for eight years what is so inconceivable about electing a feline?”

Daughter Shy Girl concurs: “Obama and McCain will spent millions of dollars trying to convince Americats how to save money? Uh-huh. Our entire campaign can be financed with a twenty five pound bag of cat litter, so who is shitting whom?”

“If Michelle Obama thinks going on The View will get him elected just wait until we unleash cat nip at the national catvention in July. Meeeeeeeeeow, Michelle!” added Henny B. “Suss” Tassus. “And we cater to all kinds; black, white, orange, stripped…”

“Think McCain can handle a puss on nip?” purrs Katja “I think not!”

SANTA MONICA, CA.–-George Carlin, the 71 year old comedian, died of heart failure Sunday night around 6 p.m. PDT after checking into Saint John’s Health Center in Santa Monica earlier in the day complaining of chest pains, according to his publicist Jeff Abraham.

Ironically, his last two audio CDs were entitled: Life is Worth Losing. and It’s Bad For Ya with the final of his 14 HBO specials capturing these two performances which profoundly examined death in great detail; “Imagine your grandmother in hell, baking pies without an oven!”

WARNING: There is profanity and adult themes contained in these obits and my retrospective.

Carlin had a history of heart problems and even did comedy routines about them. He may best be remembered for The Seven Words You Can Never Say on TV routine that became a landmark Supreme Court case in 1978. Carlin uttered all seven at a live show in Milwaukee in 1972 and was promptly arrested for disturbing the peace. After they were played on a New York radio station, they resulted in a Supreme Court ruling in 1978 upholding the government’s authority to sanction stations for broadcasting offensive language.

“So my name is a footnote in American legal history, which I’m perversely kind of proud of,” Carlin told The Associated Press earlier this year.

George Carlin was scheduled to perform his newest HBO Special It’s Bad For Ya live from Santa Rosa, CA Saturday, March 1st.

Read obit from Variety George Carlin Obit

NY Post: NYPost on Carlin

National Post on Carlin

Carlin produced 23 comedy albums, 14 HBO specials, three books, a couple of TV shows and appeared in several movies. Carlin hosted the first broadcast of Saturday Night Live noting on his Website that he was “loaded on cocaine all week long.” He battled addictions most of his adult life, including marijuana, cocaine, prescription medicines and wine.

He was born May 12, 1937 and grew up in the Morningside Heights section of Manhattan, raised by a single mother. After dropping out of high school in the ninth grade, he joined the Air Force in 1954. He received three court-martials and numerous disciplinary punishments, according to his official Website. George Carlin

His site is a profoundly wild as the man: “Close your eyes, take a slow deep breath, meditate on a question of great importance on your life, breathe out slowly and click on George’s nose for guidance.

(and open your fucking eyes
so you can read the answer!)”

His wife of 36 years died on May 11, 1997 of cancer. From his site “BRENDA HOSBROOK CARLIN dies on Mother’s Day. Thirty-six great years together even with all the shit we put ourselves through in the ’70’s. See ya, Dink. Miss you a lot.”

Carlin won four Grammy Awards for best spoken comedy album and was nominated for five Emmys. On Tuesday, it was announced that Carlin was being awarded the 11th annual Mark Twain Prize for American Humor, which will be presented Nov. 10 in Washington and broadcast on PBS.

He is survived by wife Sally Wade; daughter Kelly Carlin McCall; son-in-law Bob McCall; brother Patrick Carlin; and sister-in-law Marlene Carlin.

As a record collector, I was always a happier guy when his next LP was released and purchased each one knowing I’d laugh myself into a coma. After my father died in 1995 (he was not a fan due to the profanity; my Catholic cousins never forgave me for playing a routine on his exploits on being raised Catholic) I got stoned and listened to his 1979 On the Road LP, wherein he did a poignant and outrageous treatise on death: “I don’t want to buried, I want to be blown up.” Naturally, I laughed and cried simultaneously. It was therapeutic and although I could never thank him personally I’m sure he knew that his humor could be as good as any medicine.

When I learned he was to perform in Birmingham in October, 2001 I bought three tickets; one each for me (as an early November birthday gift), Natalie, and her eldest daughter, Giselle, who was staying at my apartments while working on her dissertation. I’ll never forget driving to Florence, SC to pick up Natalie (8 hours one-way), zipping back another eight hours to Tuscaloosa to pick up Gigi and then back to Birmingham (another hour) and arriving within fifteen minutes of the performance.

The audience was a mixed bag and it was populated with some of the least hip people I’d seen since the live Pink Floyd concert at Legion Field (B’ham, 1994). Naturally, I was laughing, along with Tala and Gigi, but many audience members were the least humorless people I ever had the displeasure of sitting near. I have always maintained that if you aren’t into black or gallows humor you should stay home. Regardless, Carlin gave me one of the best nights of my life and being able to share it with my life partner and her daughter made it even more wonderful.

Carlin was one of the first links I placed on my site in 2006 and here is an excerpt from my first post on Rosenbush Café, November 28, 2006:

My first online published work was actually winning a contest for the Alys Stephens Center 10th Anniversary in September, 2006. It was edited but I was declared the first and then two others were chosen for second and third place! I was thrilled and now I have a site to share.

“…he [George Carlin] appeared at the ASC in October 2001…I decided my birthday gift for that November was to purchase three tickets; for me, my fiancée and her oldest daughter…We arrived at the ASC with minutes to spare and my anticipation was so intense I couldn’t even smile…We were all treated to a wonderful performance. It was just over a month after 9/11…The concert was amazing on all levels…It was profound seeing him in person… ”

I will never forget walking into a record store in Hattiesburg, Mississippi in the summer of 1972 and hearing his LP Class Clown playing. The store was empty, except for me and a long-haired male employee. I couldn’t stop laughing aloud and during the Seven Words segment another potential customer walked in just as George uttered “…shit, piss, fuck…” and did a 360 back out the door which was even funnier. Both the employee and I looked at one another and began laughing even harder.

You will be missed George, but your legacy to the culture of humor will never be forgotten. Tonight, when I listen to some of your LPs and watch excerpts from my collection of your early videos I’m certain I’ll laugh and cry in equal measure.

You’re sharing laughs with the spirits of Ernie Kovacs, Groucho Marx, Richard Pryor, Redd Foxx and Dave Gardner, and especially Lenny Bruce, the original shock comic whose performance changed his direction in comedy; you taught me that humor can rescue lost souls and for that I am eternally grateful.

Shalom.