Terrace Tale

Well, hello there!


I'm rolling right through the season, having just returned from an early Christmas with my parents and siblings. Had a fantastic time and worked on a special follow up to a post I did earlier this year. But that's for a later date! Instead of that mysterious thing, I want to tell you about an underrated, overlooked Xmas episode from the Simpsons, Miracle On Evergreen Terrace.

Broadcast back in 1997, this episode from season nine is the kind of episode that hits the sweet spot for me. It's not too cloying, not to irreverent and dismissive. It falls right into the pocket of an episode wherein Xmas is a part of the plot, but not the center of the story, followed by a forced special moment. So let's break it down, eh?

Christmas Eve is ending and Bart devises an ingenious way to beat the system - when Marge confiscates all alarm clocks in the house, thereby nixing any chance of waking up and opening presents early, he chugs water like a dying man. His subsequent dream sequence is hilarious and dead on for those horrible nights where you wake up and stumble to the bathroom, by the way. So Bart is the first to rise and opens a present. When this radio controlled toy goes off the rails and causes a small fire, the tree and all the presents melt. Panicking, Bart quickly disposes of the evidence and tells the family they were robbed. Heartbroken and crestfallen, the family doesn't know what to do. Homer hits the guilty, sneaking subconscious urge on the head: "Can *sob* we *sniff* skip *sob* church?" We've all been there.

So Kent Brockman does a feel-good human interest piece on the family and the town opens their hearts and wallets. The Simpson clan make off like bandits. Bart's ball of lies, however, begins to crumble, and when the family finds out what happens, they struggle to maintain the facade. From there on out it's your classic series of misadventures and half-heart conceits, but it's pretty damn funny. It all leads to the townspeople stealing everything in the Simpson family home. Heartwarming stuff.

I love this episode - it's been a staple of my holiday viewing, both for the general plot and the fact that it doesn't play out like your typical Christmas episode. It's out in several forms, including a Christmas collection, single disc release and on iTunes, as well as less reputable places online. Just sayin'. Take a look and see if you get the same strangely fresh take on Christmas that I did from this old and forgotten gem. Xmas is coming, kids.

Where We've Been

Evening, gang.


If you're reading this, it's most likely Halloween where you are. I dig. I hope you're having as mega of a day as I am. I spent the previous day recapping the Saturday night hijinks, packing some boxes while watching spooky movies and opening a bottle of Cabernet to enjoy another Treehouse of Horror. Not bad, I have to say. My apartment has no kids, so no trick or treaters for me, to my dismay. I would have fun passing out candy. I would have fun with wine until I pass out, too, but that's not really a Halloween thing. I digress. This year I was a bull, my better half was a matador. Here's me:

Nice, right? Best of all - pretty darn cheap. Total cost? Five bones for the horns. All else was mine. Okay the leg warmers on my arms as hooves were courtesy of my better half. 


So I've written up and down about Spooky Month. I loved it. It gave me a chance to indulge in my spooky side and share some awesome Halloweenish things with the wider world. There are, however, some things that slipped through the cracks. These are the posts I wrote prior to Spooky Month that would have been totally appropriate to cut and paste if I had been short on time and creativity. In no particular order, you should check out:


The Thing and I - a genuinely creepy Treehouse of Horror installment, all set at night in a storm.
Silent Hill 2 - the most terrifying game I've ever played. An emotional trip, to say the least. HD collections for PS3 and 360 due out in January.
Cloverfield - A modern Gojira, my favorite monster movie. It's a crazy post-modern take on terrorist events.
Zombies Ate My Neighbors - An underrated gem for the SNes. A love letter to B Movie madness.
Crimson - Beautifully dark album from the Alkaline Trio. Lush and pulsing punk music to set the mood.
MST3K - The best way to enjoy old B Movies. Snark galore. Laughs abound. Legendary.
Old Boy - Not a horror movie, per se. Still a dark, twisted trip to the most tormented depths of humanity. Yeah.
Silent Hill - My love for a flawed, but well-intentioned cinematic adaptation of the video game series.
You Were Always On My Mind - Getting severely caught off guard by a creepy soundtrack.
Grabbed by the Ghoulies - A forgotten gem from Rare. Super fun and full of simple frights!
Maniac Mansion - One of the first great haunted house games. Packed with point-and-click antics.
House of Leaves - Watch a book eat itself like a snake swallowing its own tail.
World War Z - The definitive record of humanity's war on zombie-kind. A sprawling, epic tome.
I Hear You Calling - A great video by the band Gob with homages to Thriller.

So that about sums it up. It's been a month of scares and jumps, noises in the vents and things lurking around the corner. Hit up the Spooky label on the side bar for more goodness. Otherwise, come November 1st it's back to business as usual here. I've had a blast this past month. Hopefully you have too. I'll try to do more large scale themes in the future. Christmas Conundrum, perhaps?

Northwest Passage

Let's go for a walk in the woods, shall we?


As I've made it abundantly clear in past posts, there is a great deal of culture from the 90s that I adore. While I have shown great admiration for music and cartoons from my formative years, there are occasionally cultural blank spots that need to be filled in. There have also been a fair number of posts here about Lost and Silent Hill. The common influence both of my long-standing favorites share is rooted back at the beginning of the 90s, in today's Spooky Month subject matter - Twin Peaks.

I was too young to have experienced the pop culture zeitgeist of Twin Peaks when it first aired. David Lynch's groundbreaking multi-genre show was notorious for quite a few good reasons, among them the surreal imagery and whodunit that ran central to the short lived series. From what my history books and parents have told me, it was one of the first water-cooler shows, something everyone was discussing the next day. It was popular and remarkable enough that I was able to pick up hints and shadows of the bizarre series in other forms. As it permeated the pop-culture lexicon, it laid the groundwork for some of my most-loved things, like the previously mentioned cult show Lost and the extremely Twin Peaks influenced Silent Hill series. It was only fitting then, that I trace the roots of these things back to the source. So when I was unable to sleep in the weeks approaching my wedding this past summer, I passed the nights by devouring the TV legend.

Immediately I was struck by the atmosphere and distinct personality of the series, the clearly identifiable Lynch hallmarks of surreal images, whipsaw mood changes and the undercurrent of the strange and abnormal. It was also immediately apparent that I was hooked on the series, chewing through the episodes as fast as I could, but savoring them in the understanding that it would only be two short seasons of this weird and wonderful show. I confess, I loved everything about it, even when the quality dipped (as the common reputation holds) in the second season. The first season, though - unparalleled. 

Everything about the show was amazing to my tastes - it felt like the series had been made just for me, only to lie in wait while the stars slowly aligned to bring me to Twin Peaks. I love the dreary, cool atmosphere of the Northwestern setting, having lived there in my late teens. Angelo Badalamenti's noir and jazz based score added to the ambiance in an undeniable way. The absolutely quirky and uniquely drawn characters in their soap-opera parodies and grim circumstances. It was all a strange and enthralling mix that I immediately was hooked on. The iconic images of Lynch's dreamworlds only drew me deeper to the odd, short lived tale. It was exhilarating to see things that had made such impressions on culture for the first time, the scenes feeling at once alive and alien yet somehow familiar, a sense of "Oh, this is what that meant" coming over me more than once.

It's no wonder this amazing series is such a legend in popular culture - it set the bar higher than its imitators could hope to clear. Others have come close, but watching this show at night in the quiet dark while waiting to fall asleep...man, what a memorable week. The common thread running through some of my favorite things suddenly stood much clearer to me, having been lain bare by tracing it back to the source. If you want to relive an exciting time in TV history it's available on Netflix or from kind friends on DVD. It's eerie, spooky stuff that's perfect drama for this time of year. Makes me want a cup of dark coffee and a slice of pie, too, come to think of it. 

Console Nation

Kids, it's time we say goodbye to Video Game Week.


This most likely comes with a rounding cheer from a heart segment of my audience, while coming from a heavy heart. I really do love to apply analysis and critical thought to my gaming. Whether its the simplest indulgence, like button mashing and rhythm games, or the headiest, most convention defying experience to date, I love examining the phenomenon that occurs when we play games. I really appreciate the fact that anyone here would read my thoughts on a field that has no shortage of self-righteous essays and pretentious diatribes, not just from me but from much more talented, witty writers. 

I could honestly fill pages upon pages with content devoted to my love of gaming but in the interest of not shedding any more readers, I'll just round up the few posts on the subject that I have done and get back to what I do best - heartfelt examinations of the music that makes people tick. While there may be the occasional post on games in the future, they will much more sporadic, that's for sure. For example, I hardly mentioned the unsung hero of games - soundtracks. Someday, kids. Some day. 


Here's anything and everything I've written about button mashing:


Zombies Ate My Neighbors - an old post about a sublime SNES game, which is a love letter to B-Movies.
Silent Hill 2 - the scariest and most captivating experience I've ever had with a game, bar none.
Gamespite - a look at the most funny and intelligent gaming community I've seen, headed by Jeremy Parish.
S.T.U.N. Runner - a whimsical tale about lost memories from my childhood. And Chuck E. Cheese!
Scribblenauts - I wrote about this smart little game after a pre-flight happy-hour and some in-flight DS time.
Grabbed By The Ghoulies - Rare's black sheep that's really not too bad, worth the few dollars it goes for these days.
Maniac Mansion - a groundbreaking classic, as fun then as it is now. Another of many loving homages to Horror.
ToeJam & Earl - Co-op ahead of its time, a stealth masterpiece of the Sega Genesis.
Link's Awakening - The secret-best Zelda game which goes undeservedly neglected these days.
Dragon Warrior 4 - In which I wax nostalgic about exploring and having a curious mind as a child.
Virtual Bart - The hidden redemptive qualities of minigames and the mindless pleasures they afford.

That wraps up Video Game Week for me, kids. Starting tomorrow I get back on my grind with the more traditional music-based posts and articles. Down the line we'll have more themed weeks, like Book Worm Week and a special Halloween themed series. Until then, I'll see you guys on the flip side. Thanks for reading.

Chocolate Frosted Minigames

Evening, kids.


A brief word about tonight's post - the title is, to be blunt, stolen from a 30 Rock joke about horrible cereals. I found it fitting for the subject matter, because like stealing jokes, minigames are often mindless, lazy and derivative. There are times, though, when no matter how capable you may be or how broad your palette may be, you just want mindless, stupid laughs. That's where minigames come in.


To be honest I'm not a devoted advocate of the much maligned yet massively popular format. Certainly the Wii helped popularize them. Indeed there seems to be a glut of shovelware these days - just games crammed into the checkout aisle next to candy-bars and bottle soda, eager to swindle you out of $10 and your respect for the gaming industry. Not all minigame collections are inherently bad; more to the core of the issue not all are created equal. One of my favorite of the genre is a comparative antique - the launch title for the original Xbox, Fusion Frenzy. I loved making drinking games out of the 60-second intervals of frantic gameplay the inexpensive title brought in college. Simple games that mimicked the Powerball game from American Gladiators or the one in which you either jump over or duck under hurtles and pipes as they come flying toward your character - these were great for a little levity before heading out on a Friday or Saturday night with friends. While it is common place now, a few rounds of Halo wouldn't have quite the same jovial effect on our group of friends. Some mindless button mashing, timed to ever-changing patterns and reflex tests? Super fun when beer is added to the mix. 

But not all minigames are for parties. One of my favorites that brought me much secret joy over the years (again, in college) was found in an obscure old title for SNES and the Genesis. There were a lot of winter nights as a student in which I would be done with my studies (sort of) and home with nothing good (free) to do. My better half attending University 1000 miles away, I had to while away the time doing something while we chatted on the phone, growing closer as we broke down the details of our respective days. When I wasn't spending these conversations cooking Ramen or pizza rolls (a habit I have mercifully quit in the last six years) I would fire up my copy of the long-forgotten Simpsons tie-in Virtual Bart and play a particular game.

The Simpsons, Gospel though they may be, have a terrible track record for video games. Almost every single one has been a dismal, unquestionable failure, and yet I have played so many of them with so much patience. Virtual Bart was just another in a long line of stinkers with Bart-branding, skating by on it's merchandising license. The central concept was that Bart straps in to a Virtual Reality machine at a Springfield Elementary Science Fair and all kinds of wacky hi-jinx ensue. Most of the games were awful and too simple to be fun, even for a minigame. 

One game, though, I could not turn away from. It was, for lack of a proper title, a shooting gallery. Bart simply stands outside the school before the Science Fair and hurls tomatoes at his classmates, getting points for every one he hits. As you progress authority figures show up, wandering back and forth through the scenery and blocking your targets. That's it -  no big concept. No major threat, no big reward. Just try to nail Rod and Todd Flanders with tomatoes. I was completely hooked. More than once I would exclaim "YES!" while on the phone with my eventual wife. When questioned on it I would have to explain why I was so excited to have pegged Ralph Wiggum. She understood my excitement and that is why I married her. 


Not all gaming has to be high-brow, expensive execution. Sometimes all you need is a simple, gratifying execution of concept. Time your throws and take aim - that's all you need to blow off a little steam and kill a cold, lonely winter night.

Warm Fuzzy Viewings Trois

Cold, quiet days here in Minneapolis. Makes the brain slow down. It's always dark this time of year, although the sunlight increases by tiny increments each day. How do you fight the monotony? It's a weeknight, you're exhausted, you can barely muster up the motivation after work to make dinner. What's to be done? 

You turn off the lights, crawl into bed and take in another Warm, Fuzzy Viewing. 

Today's entry is another one of many stellar Simpsons episodes. Mountain of Madness first aired over 14 years ago, during the series' eighth season, in what some consider to be the end of the 'Golden Era' of the show - just after the astoundingly good run of seasons 4-6, but just starting the season that gave us the fan-infuriating Frank Grimes. Personally I feel this is still in a good phase of the show, and arguements have been made on the internet about how what that magical, untouchable era constitutes and how it collectively is pushed forward with each passing year. As the show grew from its initial roots, fans said season 4 was too wacky and season two had the most heart. Back when season 7 was airing, it was the third season people claimed to be the best. When Homer went into space as an astronaut it was only season five! What I'm struggling to express here is that the show quickly became a source of insanity and fevered online debate. No matter the nerdly anger about perceived dips in quality, I still love it no matter the percieved quality changes. Not exactly a ringing endorsement, but this particular episode was never a stand out, either. It was a middle of the pack offering, broadcast February 2nd, 1997, set in both winter and containging a hidden passage of sorts.   

Regardless of my Apologist stance on the Simpsons and my unwavering fanboy status, today's Warm Fuzzy Viewing is Mountain of Madness. One of the rare episodes that contains snow but not Christmas, it starts of with a fire drill that takes much longer than it should.

Mr. Burns: Is it supposed to take this long? What's a good time for a mass evacuation of the entire plant?
Smithers: 45 seconds.
Mr. Burns: And what's our time so far?
Smithers: I don't know, sir. This stopwatch only goes up to 15 minutes. 

Eventually Homer makes it out and barricades the door behind him, trapping his panicking coworkers. After the rest of the Nuclear Plant's crew has made it out (a great unspoken gag here being the broken second floor window, a couch having been thrown through it) Burns declares their ability to work together atrocious. A team building exercise is to be held on Mt. Springfield. It will be a pairs' race to the top, with the last team to arrive being fired. The Simpson clan drives up for the exercise, their car careening around the frozen parking lot like a pinball until it comes to a stop in the middle of the lot. Soon they get down to business at hand.

Burns: "This will be an ardous climb, one of the most grueling tasks man can...Simpson, did you bring your family?"

The Simpson clan head into the park's informational cabin to waste the day and the Nuclear Plant's team pairs off. Through the requisite twist of fate, Home is partnered up with Mr. Burns and Smithers is left on his own. Apparently Burns felt Smithers had "been a bit of a pill, lately." The teams start their journey and the adventure begins. Soon after the race starts, however, Burns uses a bit of wordplay and charm to convince Homer they should use a snowmobile to speed to the top, as it is Man using the best of his skills to cheat if possible. They beat all the other teams and arrive soon after.

Mr. Burns: We have several hours before the others arrive, let's say we get comfy. (turns on the fuse box) Now we have electricity. (turns on the gas) This propane tank will supply us with heat. And this doorknob, properly turned, will allow us access to the cabin. 
Homer: No going through the window for us!

As they sit back and relax before the buffet spread out before them (Burns: "From the highest pharoh to the lowest serf, who doesn't enjoy a good sit?") they toast to their success. The vibration of the glasses clinking sets off an avalanche, unfortunately, and Burns and Homer find themselves trapped in the cabin under tons of snow. Dementia quickly sets in and the pair descend quickly into madness, each creating snowmen for company. Their imaginations seizing control, they become paranoid and agressive. When Burns threatens Homer, he taunts him with "You and what army?" and immediately imagines an army of angry snowmen behind Homer. He panicks and screams "Stay back! I have powers, political powers" which Homer promptly sees as snow-versions of Mao Zedong, Abraham Lincoln, Ramses, Ghandi and Teddy Roosevelt. It's an inspired bit of lunacy, this cabin fever.

Somewhere around this time Lenny and Carl arrive on scene to find...nothing. They muse that maybe the cabin "was a metaphor, to find a better place inside all of us." Carl disagrees. "Nah, they said there'd be sandwiches." Figuring out something is amiss, Marge, a mountain ranger and the kids head out into the mountain forest to dig them out. 

As far as WFVs go - we have the snow/avalanche, we have a secret space (the cabin) and Homer attempts an escape tunnel. Not the strongest candidate for a WFV but it's a great episode with two strong elements that qualify this one.

Who will survive and what will be left of them? Will Homer and Burns tear each other to pieces? How does a rocket cabin fit in? And do the employees no longer get sandwiches? Tune in to find out!

Warm Fuzzy Viewings Deux

To compensate for the shortened post mourning Double Danger Comics, today I offer another Warm Fuzzy Viewing. Today's subject is the Simpson's episode "Skinner's Sense of Snow", in which a blizzard hits Springfield and traps the students at school before Christmas. This episode was originally broadcast December 17th, 2000, which seems completely impossible for an episode to be eleven years old and still seem like it's part of the 'newer' era. Let's dig in!

The episode starts with Homer being denied the opportunity to watch football because the family wants to see the Cirque de Puree (Homer: "But I wanted to see Brett Fav-re!" complete with French accent). When the circus tent is blown away the Simpson clan hightails it home, barely beating the impending snowstorm, which is described as a "Nor'easter meets a Sou'wester". When the storm rolls in, even the Springfield Nuclear Power Plant is closed. 

Radio Announcer: The following schools are closed today; Shelbyville, Ogdenville, Ogdenville Tech, and Springfield Elementary... (Bart and Lisa gasp in surprise)...My Dear Watson Detective School. (Bart groans) And lastly, Springfield Elementary School...(Bart and Lisa cheer) …is open! (Bart and Lisa groan) And it's open season on savings at Springfield Menswear... which is closed.

 The few students whose parents forced them to attend are made by Skinner (the only faculty member not off at a caucus) to watch the delightfully terrible holiday movie 'The Christmas That Almost Wasn't, But Then Was'. Taking cues from Mystery Science Theater's expertise, the old movie is rife with production errors, like a Grip walking into the shot, or cardboard props for sheep falling over, mid-take. It's best summed up by Milhouse's complaint about the protagonist singing to the romantic interest: "Why won't he stop singing? He's been wooing her for 45 minutes!" When the projector catches fire (Nelson: "Ha ha! You shoulda got the DVD!" Skinner: "This IS the DVD") the class tries to leave, only to find themselves snowed in. 

Bart: "We're trapped in the school!"
(Wailing)

Milhouse: "We're gonna miss Christmas!"
(Even louder wails)

Skinner: "I fixed the movie!"
(Loudest cry of all)

Realizing the kids haven't made it home yet, Homer and Ned venture out in the blizzard to rescue them with a makeshift plow.

Flanders: Well, I'm all for rescuing the kids, but I wish you hadn't sawed off my roof. (cut to show part of Flanders’ roof sawed off)
Homer: My car, your roof; it's only fair.
Flanders: But it's my car.
Homer: Well, yeah.
Flanders: Hey, whatever happened to the plow from your old snowplow business?
Homer: I never had a snowplow business.
Flanders: Sure you did, Mr. Plow. You're wearing the jacket right now. (Homer turns, revealing he's wearing the “Mr. Plow” jacket)
Homer: I think I know my own life, Ned. (sings "Call Mr. Plow, that's my name; that name again is Mr. Plow".)   

En route to the school they hit a fire hydrant and freeze to the spot. Running the engine to stay warm, they are overtaken by fumes and pass out, giving way to Homer dreaming he is a Sultan in the Middle East (Homer tells a maiden: "Bring me my Ranch Dressing hose!")

The kids are forced to spend the night in Springfield Elementary and Ned and Homer are trapped in a fume-filled car! Will they survive? Will the kids miss Christmas? Will they have to finish that terrible movie? Watch Skinner's Sense of Snow to find out! (Available in the Season 12 box-set or on Simpsons Christmas Vol. 2.) 

It's an excellent episode in which we have one of the prime ingredients - the snow storm trapping the kids in school, on top of Bart trying to escape via Secret Snow Tunnel! I love shows with blizzards trapping people in places - one of my favorite memories of this winter has to be the massive and record setting blizzard in December. I watched from my condo as the city buses just flipped their signs over to 'Not In Service' and made everyone get off where they stopped. It was nuts, the whole city shut down. As a result we stayed inside, cooking awesome and elaborate food all day. 


I think what I love about being snowed in is having to dig in and go into that 'survival mode' or try to entertain yourself with whatever is around. You're forced to make the most of your immediate surroundings instead of thinking that something outside or elsewhere is better. This episode hits that feeling square on - blizzards, do your worst!