View trailer

Saw 3D Director: Kevin Greutert Writers: Patrick Melton, Marcus Dunstan Stars: Tobin Bell, Costas Mandylor, Betsy Russell MPAA Rating: Rated R for sequences of grisly bloody violence and torture, and language. Synopsis: People continue to be brutally tortured and killed by a series of complex machinery … but this time it’s in 3D.

Lars’ take: The Saw movies have become a bit of a Hollywood tradition. It’s like your local haunted house – it’s very low-budget, it’s freaky, you are in for some graphic violence and gore and it gets you in the mood for the season. The movies know what they are, they work within their realms and they’re always good for entertainment purposes.

Joel’s take: The smartest thing the makers of these movies ever did was attach themselves to Halloween. The franchise is so entrenched at this point that people will go to see them regardless of their quality. It’s a genius move. It may not seem that complicated, but considering Rob Zombie’s Halloween came out in August and The Simpsons “Treehouse of Horror” specials air the first week of November because of the World Series, Hollywood still doesn’t quite seem to grasp this simple concept. So for that reason alone, Saw 3D deserves to succeed.

View trailer

Monsters (limited release) Director: Gareth Edwards Writer: Gareth Edwards Stars: Scoot McNairy, Whitney Able MPAA Rating: Rated R for language. Synopsis: An American journalist bravely heads deep into an alien quarantine area to rescue his employer’s daughter.

Lars’ take: District 9 has become the gold standard for what a realistic alien invasion movie should be, but these movies existed before District 9 and they will continue to exist long after, so it’s not fair to compare this movie to District 9. But it does seem to come very close to the same story. We’ll have to wait and see what exactly they do with it. But regardless, it seems like they put good money and talent behind it, so I’m hopeful it won’t be a carbon copy of a great science fiction movie that came out just last year.

Joel’s take: I don’t know if the filmmakers themselves or the marketing people behind the film are responsible for the decision, but the trailer and the poster for Monsters definitely seem to intentionally invoke District 9. It’s clear they are courting fans of that film. However, I think ultimately that will is a disservice to this film. Chances are, even if it turns out to be an entertaining movie that stands on its own, it won’t reach the very high bar set by District 9.

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Welcome to the Rileys (limited release) Director: Jake Scott Writer: Ken Hixon Stars: James Gandolfini, Kristen Stewart, Melissa Leo MPAA Rating: Rated R for strong sexual content, brief drug use and pervasive language involving a teenager. Synopsis: A businessman struggling with a rocky marriage and the loss of his daughter befriends a young stripper in New Orleans.

Lars’ take: This could be a movie that has three really solid performances backed by a very compelling story, but it all seems really contrived because it has elements of so many other things we’ve seen before. We’re really going to have to wait and see if there’s anything that makes this movie special other than the acting. I’m optimistic that this movie can succeed, but at the same time I’m a little trepidatious.

Joel’s take: This movie has a few things working against it from the start. First of all, I find it incredibly distracting whenever James Gandolfini talks in anything other than his Tony Soprano voice. (It’s unfair, I know, but I can’t help it.) Secondly, I have trouble taking Kristen Stewart seriously as an actress. I feel like she hasn’t really proven herself as a legitimate actor yet. Third, and most importantly, the whole setup seems over the top – she’s a stripper, he’s dealing with a broken family, the film is set in post-Katrina New Orleans. It seems very clichéd and melodramatic. But Gandolfini and Melissa Leo are great actors and the film is probably still good, even if it rubs me the wrong way.

Continue reading this post

• Introduction
• Halloween memories
• The power of flannel
• Costumes to avoid
• Russian bears
• Bad jokes
• The third Batman film has a name
• “Halloween” by The Coffinshakers

Hobo Radio 155 - Put down the Snooki costume [ 1:02:54 ] Play Now | Play in Popup | Download

With Halloween only days away, Joel Murphy and Lars offer up a special Halloween-themed Hobo Radio podcast, complete with a scary story, insightful costume tips and a few memories from their childhood trick-or-treating experiences.

And since our dynamic duo can’t help but wander off into tangents, they also share their thoughts on the resurgence of flannel, a recent study to determine the world’s funniest joke and the official title of Christopher Nolan’s third Batman film. It’s a jam-packed show that is like free candy for your ears.

What is the name of Christopher Nolan’s third Batman film? Why do guys really dress as women on Halloween? Is there anything scarier than grave robbing Russian bears with a taste for human flesh? The answers to these questions and more are in this week’s podcast.

Hobo Radio is the official podcast of HoboTrashcan, brought to you by The Podcast Network.

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• Hobo Radio 193 – Ukraine bears are angry drunks

Joel Murphy

College is a wonderful place. If your heart so desires, you can sleep until noon, wear pajamas to class and eat a steady diet of Chick-fil-a and ramen noodles. You can major in philosophy or take classes about zombie films or The Wire. You can even find on-campus clubs that discuss comic books or play Frisbee golf. College gives you a chance to try new things, develop your personality and to essentially spend your days doing the ridiculous.

If you are a Harry Potter fan, college even gives you a chance to play “Muggle Quidditch,” an adaptation of the imaginary sport Harry and his chums play at Hogwarts. Quidditch is quickly becoming a popular activity on many college campuses. So popular, in fact, that the International Quidditch Association, which was established in 2007, boasts that they have helped “more than 400 colleges and 300 high schools form teams, and over half of them are active already.”

In J. K. Rowling’s books, Quidditch is played by two teams of seven wizards and witches who fly around on broomsticks throwing balls into various hoops. The rules are actually a bit more complicated than that, but Wikipedia uses phrases like this to describe the rules, which are nonsensical to the uninitiated: “The Bludgers and the Snitch, having been bewitched, fly off on their own accord; the Snitch to hide itself quickly, and the Bludgers to attack the nearest players. The Quaffle is thrown into the air by the referee to signal the start of play.” (Seriously, those two previous sentences sound like something a stroke victim would say as he’s being carted off to the hospital.)

The game has been adapted for the real world since, no matter how many drugs they take, college kids cannot actually fly. Instead, players just carry around broomsticks for aesthetic purposes and the magical flying ball called a Snitch is replaced by a runner in a bright yellow outfit. It loses some of the charm of the magical version, of course, but it still gives Harry Potter fans a chance to get together and have some fun reenacting a part of the books and movies they love.

I have no problem with these kids getting together and playing this made up game that they enjoy. I do, however, find it ridiculous that these clubs are now petitioning the NCAA to get Quidditch recognized as an actual sport, which would force colleges to give money to these Quidditch teams and possibly even scholarships for prospective players.

According to the commissioner of the International Quidditch Association, Alex Benepe: “Anybody who comes to the championship match of the 2010 World Cup this year will be hard pressed to say that Quidditch would not deserve to be an NCAA sport. It’s an intense game.”

Benepe, who I’m sure is a sweet kid, couldn’t possibly be more wrong. I watched a few Quidditch videos online and to me it looks like something they would have made contestants do on American Gladiators back in the day. (The only difference being that the guy in the yellow costume playing the Snitch would have been 300 pounds of pure muscle and would have sported a glorious mullet.) No college kids ever petitioned the NCAA to recognize “The Eliminator” challenge as an official sport and that competition was way more intense than your Quidditch matches, so give it up, Benepe.

It’s bad enough that people out there keep pushing for golf and car racing to be considered real sports. We simply don’t have room for made up games involving broomsticks and hoops that were meant to be played by magical wizards. I’m sorry, International Quidditch Association, but we have to draw the line somewhere. Otherwise, sparkly vampire enthusiasts will start petitioning the NCAA to have Twilight-style vampire baseball recognized as a sport too. Maybe when ESPN actually gets around to forming The Ocho, they can throw you a bone and find a spot for Quidditch coverage after they run the show about the waterskiing squirrels, but until then just stop give up this ridiculous quest to be taken seriously as a sport.

Like I said, I fully support your right to form these Quidditch clubs on your college campuses. If that’s what you’re into, more power to you. I’m also fine if you want to go to parties and play beer pong all night. Just don’t expect the NCAA to start forcing colleges to pay for your red plastic cups or offer beer pong scholarships.

What you are doing is pretending to be wizards. It’s silly. It’s no different than when I would take a cardboard tube and pretend to have lightsaber fights with my friends, using my mouth to make all the sound effects. (My parents were too cheap to buy me one of those cool plastic battery-powered lightsabers.) I wasn’t really battling Darth Vader on the Death Star and you aren’t really playing a magical sport. Quidditch isn’t actually a thing. It’s all make-believe.

Honestly, you are a lot like Civil War reenactors. You dress up in costumes and square off against each other in pretend battles or matches. And that’s fine. I have nothing against Civil War reenactors. But I would get upset if those reenactors started demanding they get Veterans benefits from the government or admission into the VFW.

You need to take a step back and reevaluate things, IQA. Recruiters are never going to offer prospective Quidditch students cars and money under the table to get them to play seeker for their team. Gamblers aren’t going to spend their Saturdays reviewing the Quidditch lines and betting on the outcome of your games. Tony Kornheiser and Michael Wilbon aren’t going to start shouting at each other on PTI about Quidditch’s controversial BCS standings. (Kornheiser would of course be defending all of the Quidditch teams at the big name schools while Wilbon would pull for Boise State’s squad.)

Don’t try to be something you’re not. You are nerds, not jocks. College athletes don’t read books (they are too busy taking basket weaving and ball room dancing classes). Just enjoy your Quidditch clubs and stop trying to get your fun social activity recognized as a real sport. The NCAA is never going to go for it and you sound silly for even trying to pull this move.

Just be content that you have the luxury to spend four years of your life playing Quidditch. Throw on some pajama pants, eat some ramen and take a moment to think about how awesome your life is. Quidditch isn’t a sport, it’s something far better – it’s a chance for you to goof off with your friends doing something ridiculous. It’s a license to waste your entire afternoon. So, enjoy it while you can because pretty soon you are going to have to actually go out and get a job.

Joel Murphy is the creator of HoboTrashcan, which is probably why he has his own column. He loves pugs, hates Jimmy Fallon and has an irrational fear of robots. You can contact him at murphyslaw@hobotrashcan.com.

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Aaron R. Davis

:: “Wait, where am I? In front of a grocery store? How did I even get here in the first place? Well, I’m sure no one will mind if I just sit here in my car right in front of the damn store while I try to figure out which planet I’m on right now …”

:: “Oh, snap! One of the spaces in the front opened up! Is there someone behind me? No time! I’ll check just as soon as I slam on the brakes and start backing up! Oh, there was a guy behind me. God, get out of my way, man! Don’t get mad at me! Can’t you see a spot in the front opened up and I had to slam on my brakes to get it and save myself the 40 extra seconds of parking lot walking? Jeez, it’s your fault for even being behind me in the first place!”

:: “Oh my goodness … just look at this place … it’s not just a grocery store, it’s the entryway to heaven … what a paradise … deals and wares as far as the eye can see … goods everywhere I look … I’ve forgotten how to walk in a straight line or at a brisk pace … I’ve lost my sense of direction … what am I looking for? Who cares? Does it even matter? There’s so much to see here! Forget this cart; this is an anchor, holding me back from floating away into the grocery ether and experiencing this wondrous place … OMG, double coupons! That’s, like, not just one coupon, but two! What does it mean?!?”

:: “She’s just a little kid. Surely people will be forgiving of her crying and running, she’s just a child. I mean, gaw, she’s only eight.”

:: “Wait, which pills do I take? Let me bend over and look at all of these pills very, very closely. I know I took some kind of a pill, but I can’t remember which one it was. Perhaps I should see the druggist about this. Oh, I see the pharmacy is closed at 8 p.m. on a Sunday. Goodness, how could that be? Well, it’s okay, I’m only pushing two carts somehow, because my son wanted to let his little girl ride in one of her own, even though she’s obviously 10 or something, but I’m sure no one will mind if I just congest the entire aisle trying to remember what kind of bicarbonate works best on my skinny little body. Maybe it would help if my cart wasn’t completely loaded up with case after case of soda just waiting to unsettle my aging stomach. Why, I remember a time when I was younger and President Taft gave that speech about tonics and bicarb …”

:: “Ha ha, you people are stupid, obviously the best vantage point to see everything at once is the exact center of the aisle. Sure, people can’t get around me on either side, but there are important things to see and it’s important that I see them all at the same time!”

:: “GET OUT OF MY WAY EVERYWHERE I HAVE TO BE IS IMPORTANT AND I DON’T HAVE TIME TO BE POLITE ABOUT THE HURRY I’M IN TO GET MY FROOT LOOPS AND GET BACK HOME TO THE BABY I LEFT ALONE WATCHING TV AND CRYING SHE PROBABLY NEEDS TO BE CHANGED AND MIGHT FIND THE GRENADES I LEFT ON THE COFFEE TABLE IF YOU ALL DON’T GET OUT MY WAY RIGHT NOW!”

:: “Stomp. And stand. And put one foot in front of the other as far as it can go. And stomp. And stand. And push my cart a little bit down the aisle. And put one foot up. And bring it down, baby. Stomp. Hurr hurr, it’s like I’m on the moon. I’m 17 years old. And ready? Stomp!”

:: “Hey, I know that person from non-grocery-buying situations! Let’s dead stop in the middle of the aisle and talk about how we know each other and stuff!”

:: “Ha ha, I’m in college and away from home for the first time, and I’m wearing my pajama pants, and I’m acting like saving money is important, but my daddy will just give me more, so I’m trying really hard to decide between the mild chipotle salsa or the hot chipotle salsa for the party I’m going to have late Thursday night because it’s homecoming weekend and I like to party because I think the only people who live in my apartment building must be students because I AM SELF-INVOLVED.”

:: “I work here, and I enjoy making it hard for everyone to get down the cereal aisle by stocking the shelves every moment of every day. That’s what they get for living in a world where I only make minimum wage!”

:: “What? You’re paying with cash? Who the hell pays with cash anymore? God, I hate you so much, and even though there are three more self-service registers with no one at them, I’m going to just stand here and seethe at you so that you will know what society thinks of people who have the unmitigated gall to pay for goods with cash. Feel my laser eyes. Feel them! Also, I’m only buying cigarettes.”

:: “So what if there’s only room for one person to walk through this hallway and out the door and there are people behind me? That doesn’t mean I’ve got to walk fast or anything. Why should I be polite? Was the world polite to me when I kept getting hurt in relationships? No. And as we know, being hurt in love gives you a free pass to be rude to everyone, because only I know what life’s pain really is.”

:: “That guy in the Honda sure is nice to sit there patiently and wait for me to load all of my groceries in the back of my SUV while my little kids dance all over the place. Just look at my sweeties, running around like idiots in the safest place in the world: a parking lot. I mean, he just bought one thing and obviously wants to get home and out of interacting with anyone, but he just sits there patiently. Oh, well. He probably paid with cash, anyway, so he should have to wait. And now, back to thinking of test patterns.”

:: “Just take a deep breath and remember your blood pressure and try not to snap at anyone intentionally just go home and have some dinner hate world revenge later kill everyone take a nap.”

That last one may have been mine.

Aaron R. Davis lives in a cave at the bottom of the ocean with his eyes shut tight and his fingers in his ears. You can contact him at samuraifrog@yahoo.com.

Ned Bitters

This week’s inductee into the “Overrated Hall of Fame” is … pride in your homeland.

That’s right, Pedro, I’m talking to you. Stop waving that silly Hondur-Salva-Puerto flag. And I’m talking to you, too, Finis O’McSeannigan. Cover up that shamrock tattoo, dump out that Guinness, and – for love of Christ – no one wears green. And not so fast there, Guido Something-that-ends-in-“oni”-or-“elli.” Put down that cappuccino and slowly step away from the Italian-American parade.

I’m certainly not some jingoistic love-it-or-leave-it America red-stater, but damn it, if you’re more than one generation removed from whatever godforsaken country your ancestors came from, you’re an American and that’s that. Stop celebrating some phony ideal of a homeland that has never existed for you. If the land of your great grandpa is so wonderful, why hasn’t anyone in your family moved back there since your first brave ancestors hopped on a boat and got the hell out of the Land of Famine, or the Home of Despots, or the country of What Is This Indoor Plumbing Thing of Which You Speak, My Friend?

I’ll never understand why someone wants to pay tribute to a land that wasn’t good enough to remain in. If doing a Tamburitzan dance or eating borscht is so great, why did millions leave the home of those silly dances or that delectable gruel? I have a friend who owns – and actually wears to the annual Renaissance Festival – a kilt. ($39.99 at Tools R Us.) He also likes to drink “the good scotch.” (Note to self: Future Overrated column … people and their mind numbingly boring sermons extolling the sublimity of single malts.) He pedantically informed me that “Glendfiddich” is pronounced “GlenfiddiCK.” But he’s never actually been to Scotland. I’m guessing that’s because there’s nothing much there to do or see. But still, he’s got to represent with his skirt and overpriced liquor.

What pisses me off most about celebrating one’s ethnicity is that it’s a one-sided bullshitfest. These quasi-nationalists are fine with bragging about some cultural aspect that gives them a pathetic feeling of cultural superiority. Hispanics cling to their “passion” for life. (We white people just drift through our days in comas, I guess.) Italian males boast about what prolific sex machines they are. (I know my Anglo-ass has always been pretty ambivalent about pussy.) Ask any German-American and he’ll tell you that he’s smarter than anyone else. (Yeah, your distant relatives make a good car, but um, they haven’t exactly parlayed that engineering thing into battlefield superiority lately, have they? The goddamn Cubs have won a World Series more recently than 8th cousin Franz and friends have won a war.)

If you’re going to claim that your culture or race or nationality is in some ways special and superior, then, if logic is allowed to enter the conversation, you also have to concede the negative stereotypes your hilariously indignant defamation leagues so vehemently condemn.

Now, I might be a crusty curmudgeon who doesn’t give two shits about what most people think of my iconoclastic views, but I ain’t no dummy. I’m not going to run off a list of each culture’s negative stereotypes, then have the Jupiter-sized balls and peanut-sized brain to try to prove that they’re based on some degree of truth. But I think you know what I’m saying. If you claim that your people are special, then it has to be true both ways.

So please, scale back all that ethnic crap. The minute some brave ancestor stepped off a boat or plane and into this scalding melting pot, he ceded for you the right to laud the greatness of the country he left. You don’t get to claim all the good parts. You’re a mutt now, just like the rest of us. You can brag about what it means to be an American. You know, like eating shit foods to the point obesity, bombing people whose skin is not white and paying more attention to Brett Favre’s cock-shots than the upcoming elections.

I swear, I’m not xenophobic or racist. I would hate to live in an all-white, all-Anglo America. I mean, I’ve been to Ohio. It’s awful.

I just don’t like people bragging about things that aren’t earned. Taking pride in your ethnic heritage is like taking pride in being tall or being fast. You didn’t accomplish those traits. You were born with them.

So if you’re a second or third or eighth generation American, put away all the paraphernalia from an “old country” that has never truly existed for you. Embrace the fact that you’re an American slob and celebrate that. How? I don’t know … go eat yourself into oblivion at some all-you-can-eat smorgasbord. I suggest a name that anyone filled with ethnic pride should appreciate – the “Old Country Buffet.”

Ned Bitters is, in fact, overrated. You can contact him at teacherslounge@hobotrashcan.com.