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Flash Fiction Contest

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May is short story month and with that in mind I have a little proposition. Anybody who wants to can submit me a short story, of the flash fiction variety, and provided it’s not truly terrible (purely subjective on my part) or I get like a thousand submissions (I won’t) I’ll publish it here on this blog. I will make sure you receive the public credit for writing the story. At the end of the month I’ll pick a winner and said winner will be able to brag about his or her triumph until the end of days. Sadly, I don’t have any money to offer the winner of this contest, but what I do have to offer is virtually guaranteed publication and a small, but steady, readership. Also, the winner will get a free signed copy of my novel, target release date in the summer of 2026. Hopefully some of you feel like flexing your writing muscles and send me some stories! Can’t wait to read them.

The only restriction I have is that it is no more than a thousand words.

Please send all submissions to Somedamnfool88@gmail.com

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Iron Man 3

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Directed by Shane Black

Starring: Robert Downey Jr, Don Cheadle, Gwyneth Paltrow, Guy Pearce, Ben Kingsley

Grade: A-

I don’t know if Shane Black loves Christmas or hates it, but I’d love to know the psychology behind his obsession. You see, I love Lethal Weapon and firmly believe that it, along with myself, is one of the few truly great things to come out of the 1980’s. The movie didn’t invent the buddy cop genre, but it set a standard, one that hasn’t been reached again since. Black brings his directing talents (only his second directorial endeavor, he only wrote Lethal Weapon) to Iron Man 3 and adds his familiar tropes to the tested superhero formula. Everything is there, the buddy cop stuff, Christmas imagery, pitch-perfect dialogue, and a lead character that is barely keeping his shit together. The third, and presumably final Robert Downey Jr. led, film makes a startling discovery: that human beings are infinitely more interesting than machines. It’s hard to say a movie where there are insane amounts of explosions and literally (I think) hundreds of different Iron Man suits, is toned down or subtle, but it actually feels that way most of the time.

The plot picks up in a fairly logical place from where The Avengers ends. Tony Stark doesn’t quite know how to deal with what happened in New York. He’s seen too much, done too much, and can’t explain any of it. He can’t sleep most of the time and when he does he has nightmares. His relationships are crumbling around him and he’s becoming increasingly isolated. A superhero movie dealing, in its own way, with PTSD is a rather remarkable thing and not the stuff of your typical summer blockbuster. In addition to all this existential angst Tony is dealing with, there’s also a well-funded, lunatic terrorist named The Mandarin (Ben Kingsley) who wants to kill him and a whole bunch of other people, and to make it sting just a little bit more, Pre-Iron man drunken asshole Tony Stark may have inspired this new villain to a lifetime of evil.

In the third film of a trilogy the hero must lose everything and be nearly ruined in defeat, only to rise from the ashes and continue the fight because he or she figures why they did this heroing stuff in the first place. In this respect, Iron Man 3 doesn’t disappoint. Tony Stark does not have an easy time in this movie, in fact it follows a fairly similar arc to The Dark Knight Rises in some ways. The difference is that Stark is a lot more fun to be around than Bruce Wayne so when he goes most of the movie as himself rather than his costumed identity, we don’t really mind. Downey and Don Cheadle, who reprises his role as James Rhodes, have a lot of fun together, trade banter, and even raid a rich guys compound (more buddy cop stuff) in order to save the day. If the third act is kind of a let down, well that always seems to be the case with the Iron Man movies. Lots of explosions and infinite metal suits punching things is just not quite as much fun as Tony Stark trying to solve a mystery while fighting off panic attacks anytime someone mentions New York. Yes, the movie eventually devolves into our hero having to save his girl, Pepper Potts (Gwyneth Paltrow) and the President of the United States, but it provides nice enough twists to these familiar tropes that it feels somewhat fresh, if not completely unique.

As usual, Downey is a perfect Tony Stark and the supporting cast are just as great. Kingsley, Cheadle, and Paltrow all know they’re in a comic book movie and are having a great time with it. Guy Pearce, playing a slimy character, because of course he is, is a much more believable threat to Stark than Sam Rockwell’s Justin Hammer from the second film.

Iron Man 3 is an interesting follow up to the sheer spectacle of The Avengers, if only because it doesn’t try to top it. It tells a character driven story and has a complete absence of, except for some namedropping, other superheroes. This movie succeeds because it doesn’t try to do too much, and despite the somewhat too easy resolution, it’s a worthy addition to Marvel’s new film canon and a good way to introduce the next wave of Avengers related movies.

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One Night at the Comedy Store

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“Alright, I hope you guys are having a great time tonight. Next on stage is a very funny man, performed here a lot, Danny Cerullo.”
Okay, here we go. Grab my drink, no leave it. I’m not Dean Martin. That’s actually kind of funny, maybe I should use it some time.
“And Danny’s wearing an awesome Iron Maiden shirt tonight.”
Smile. She’s joking with me. I wonder if she’d bang me. Shit, I’m on stage, shaking her hand, think of something witty. I’m terrible at this off the cuff shit.
“I figured just in case my set didn’t repel all the ladies in the audience, then my shirt would.”
They’re laughing. That wasn’t bad, wasn’t great.
“Speaking of ladies, a doctor told me recently…” Doctor? What the fuck? Why would I say a doctor? Who in this audience is even going to believe I know a doctor, much less had a conversation with him? …”That lactating women can sometimes shoot milk out of their nipples during an orgasm.” Pause. Let them absorb it. “I call bullshit on that one. Girls can’t have orgasms.” God that joke’s easy. Still, it got a laugh. Good way to break the ice. It’s so dumb though. And seriously what the fuck was that part about talking to a doctor? What, am I trying to lend the stupid orgasm joke an air of credibility?
“Anyway, thanks for coming tonight. Like Amanda said, my name’s Danny.” Nobody cares, get to the funny. “And long before I became the awkward man you see before you tonight, I was an awkward child.” I really don’t need to emphasize awkward so much, they probably get that. “I used to play little league baseball. Anybody here play little league? Blatant pandering. I’m a sell out. “My dad was more into it than I was and I really wasn’t very good. When I got to high school, I clearly wasn’t good enough to make that team. Christ, this is dragging. The punch line isn’t even very funny. “So my dad just kept signing me up for little league.” Pause for laugh. Who am I kidding? “I tell you, I might not have been able to outhit the little shits, but I sure as hell could out drink ‘em.” Hand on forehead, look miserable. That’s not very hard. “God, there’s nothing worse than being struck out by a ten year old. Except when you cry when he hits you with the pitch.” Okay, my awkwardness has drawn them in. If I’m pitiful enough, I become endearing. Story time. “Little league wasn’t all bad though. I can remember walking up to the batters box. It’s a beautiful day outside, my team’s winning and the poetry of the game is in full swing. The sense of camaraderie is unlike anything I’ve ever experienced. I strike out, but it’s okay, who cares, everything’s perfect. I smile, turn around and head back to my dugout. I see my father standing behind the backstop. He says: Shout the line. Make it powerful. “Stop smiling you just struck out!” Ah, they’re laughing good now. Nothing like mean fathers for comedy. “I should point out that my father wasn’t hard on me because he thought with more effort I could be a great baseball player, or that it would build character and teach me valuable life lessons. He just didn’t love me.” God, I’m a bad son. My poor father works his ass off every day so I can have a decent childhood and I shit on the guy in front of a crowd of drunks. Oh well, it got a good laugh I guess. He’ll understand.
“I was reading an almanac the other day.” An almanac? I’ve never read a fucking Almanac in my life. I’m not really even sure what an Almanac is. “And I learned that sea otters are the only animals, other than humans, that can contract genital herpes. Which made me sad, you know?” Here comes the world’s easiest punch line. “I’m not fucking any more of those.” God that joke sucks. It’s seriously the stupidest joke ever written. Aaron wrote it though, and he’s dead so that makes me a good person for keeping his joke alive. Shit, I think Josh wrote it. If I’m up here telling jokes Josh wrote I need to rethink my entire life, much less my set.
Alright, here’s my big closer, don’t blow it. “Believe it or not, sometimes I get a little lonely.” Not sure if I should be happy or depressed at how big a laugh that got. “So the other day I called a phone sex line, which right off the bat is a terrible idea because I’m not much of a talker during sex. The worst part is, these girls always ask ‘What do you want me to do to you?’ And the thing is, maybe I’m just not imaginative or maybe I’m just vanilla, but I don’t need anything special. Whatever it is you normally do, I’m sure it will be fine. So then she asks me what I’m wearing.
‘Sweatpants and an old T-shirt,’ I say.
‘Ooh, did you just get done working out?’
‘No, I just woke up.’
‘It’s three o’clock in the afternoon.’
‘Yeah well, I had a long night.’
‘And what were you doing? Something hot, I bet.’
‘Totally. Hall and Oates reunion concert.’ I’m probably the only comic working right now that would drop a Hall and Oates reference in a joke. I might suck, but at least I’m original. “After a few minutes of extremely awkward phone sex, I think she just started to feel bad for me.” Much as you people seem to. “Because she started giving me life advice.” Now it’s time to dial it up. Breathe heavily, do my sexy-phone sex-girl voice. They’ll never see it coming from a guy like me. “Oh baby, maybe you should take that big old cock of yours and go back to college.” Now that’s a genuine laugh. I believe I even heard somebody shriek. “And maybe you can show what a big sexy man you are and stop blaming all your life’s problems on your mother.” That would probably be a lot funnier if I was Jewish. Every Jewish comic has serious mom issues. But hey, maybe they think I’m Jewish. Maybe I should change my name to Danny Cerulberg. “I started to feel really close to this woman. She told me that this wasn’t her real job, that she was really an actress. Me being an aspiring comedian, we shared a good laugh over the irony.” Here it comes, milk it. “And then I came all over myself.” Pause again. They’re loving it. They find my shame, loneliness and humiliation hilarious. I’m a genius! “The whole thing cost me eighty-seven dollars. Thank you, you’ve been a great audience.” Wave once, walk off stage. Shake Amanda’s hand on the way down. I hope somebody buys me a drink, I’m broke.

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The Mirage by Matt Ruff

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Grade: C

At this point, September 11th stories have practically become their own genre. We have Sci-Fi, Horror, Mystery, Appalachaian Lesbian, and 9/11 stories. The idea, I suppose, is that those attacks will conjure up enough emotional memory in the audience that the impact of the story will be that much greater. It’s a pretty cheap tactic, one that I can’t think of a single instance where it felt honest and not manipulative. Matt Ruff uses this new genre, along with the tried and tested Sci-Fi branch off The Alternate Universe, in his novel The Mirage.

In this novel, the alternate reality is that on November 9th (get it? 11/9?) a group of Christian extremists from the third world region of America hijack some planes and fly them into the twin towers of the United Arab States. Basically, the same thing happens, in reverse though, as happened in real life. The United Arab States declares a war on terror and bombs the shit out of America and frees them from their vicious tyrant, though all their efforts don’t really seem to stop the terrorist attacks, or make the war-torn region any safer. There are three main characters: Mustafa, the morally conflicted one who senses something is amiss about his world, Samir, the closeted homosexual, and Amal, the tough woman playing in a man’s world. Sound familiar? That’s because those are character tropes used in nearly every spy thriller ever written.

Anyway, those characters aren’t important. The ones the reader will flock to are Osama Bin Laden, Saddam Hussein, an unnamed but very clearly Dick Cheney, and a bunch of other people from our reality. What could have been fun about this world would be to make well known villains, like those listed above, into something heroic, or at least a conflicted source of good. Unfortunately Ruff is not interested in that. “A wicked prince in one world is a wicked prince in all worlds” is the sentiment used to justify keeping the villains as villains, and to be fair there is a plot reveal that justifies it dramatically as well. Still, I suspect the real reason is that the author, and maybe the publisher, doesn’t think the American public can tolerate Hussein or Bin Laden as anything but monsters. It feels like an opportunity for genuine and clever satire gone completely to waste.

I don’t mean to completely shit on this book though. It’s a perfectly serviceable espionage thriller, with a pretty exciting plot and well-written action. The characters may be a bit incomplete and feel like caricature at times, but that’s pretty true of the genre as a whole. The plot twists and battle scenes are what’s important in these works, not deep character insights. If it didn’t use 9/11 as a cheap way to add meaning to an otherwise perfectly fine, if unremarkable, story, I would probably grade it a bit higher. As it is, I’m not sure what this book has to say about the turmoil the world has been over the past decade-plus that hasn’t already been said. It doesn’t bring anything new to the conversation, it just makes us go “Oh, that’s George Bush they’re talking about!” Or “Holy shit, is that really Timothy McVeigh?” Merely employing the existence of these characters isn’t enough to tell a impactful story with them.

Please don’t read anything political into this review, or this book for that matter. This novel is neither Liberal propaganda, nor Conservative. Ruff is equally critical of both sides and never loses his sense of hope for a possible future. This story ends ambiguously, but optimistic in its way. Those looking for political, cultural, or philosophical insights will find it lacking. But those looking for some glimmer of hope through the shit cloud of crippling despair fed to us through the media outlets and the politicians we keep electing for some reason, might just find a reason to maintain some shred of hope in humanity.


Buy this book!

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Prometheus

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Directed by Ridley Scott

Starring: Noomi Rapace, Michael Fassbender, Charlize Theron

Grade: C-

Prometheus is an underwhelming, conventional, two hour sci-fi film that exists solely for a thirty second scene at the end to make fan boys say “Oh, so that’s where Alien comes from! Cool!” This of course speaks to the problem of any film franchise, and that is being overly self-referential. Remember how in the Star Wars prequels they couldn’t stop reminding you, as heavy handed as possible, about the old movies? Aside from the shitty story, hollow dialogue, empty characters, awful directing, and wooden acting, it was the single worst part of those films. I don’t go to see new Terminator movies because I hope Schwarzenegger will pop up and say “I’ll be back,” I go because I want to see robots killing people, and people blowing up robots. Likewise, I don’t care if Prometheus is a prequel to Alien or not, I just want it to be a good movie where people I’ve grown to care about in some capacity die in really horrible and interesting ways. Is that so much to ask?

The story is this: Some scientists find a bunch of cave paintings in various parts of the world that are all kind of the same. They seem to hint that there is this cluster of planets and there are beings there that probably created us. How the scientists determine this is not really explained. Also, this is in the future so they can travel there and check it out for themselves. The android David (Michael Fassbender) watches over the badly assembled team as they sleep over the course of a two year long flight. I say badly assembled because it doesn’t really make much sense to embark on a mission of this magnitude that takes this much knowledge and skill, and not make sure in advance that the people involved like each other and can work together. Anyway, they get there and the place is a tomb. It turns out the aliens were building some weapons of mass destruction (ooh, political!) and killed themselves. This team of scientists and geologists and a security guy that nobody listens to, don’t get along at all and make really poor choices that leads to many unnecessary deaths. The corporation that funded the trip is represented on the journey by Meredith Vickers (Charlize Theron), who’s a real bitch for some reason, and at one point has sex with the pilot just to prove that she’s not an android like David.

Bubbling beneath the surface, Prometheus seems to want to wrestle with large questions, as any good sci-fi story should, questions about the nature of humanity, our capacity for destruction and our equal capacity for love, and whether we’ve squandered this gift of life or are just beginning to harness it. But ultimately, none of those questions add up to anything. We just get a monster movie where the monster isn’t even cool. Then at the end there’s some big, body-builder alien that wants to kill everybody, and never explains why. This isn’t being awesomely deceptive and ambiguous, it’s just a copout.

Ridley Scott has made far more bad and mediocre movies than great ones at this point in his career and is quickly losing his status as a “must see” director. I’m not saying Prometheus had to be some jaw-dropping, shake my entire worldview kind of movie, but it could’ve at least been fun and entertaining and maybe even a little bit terrifying. The worst thing a movie like this can ever do is be boring. A great deal of the running time, I was just hoping somebody else would hurry up and die. That’s probably not a sign of a great movie.

Buy this movie!

http://www.cduniverse.com/productinfo.asp?pid=8745615&style=movie&frm=lk_Somedamnfool