THE DVD EXPLOSION BETWEEN YOUR LEGS

The queue inside the Burbank branch of Fry's Electronics last Tuesday morning went from the bank of cashiers, all the way around the appliance area from the refrigrators to the Maytag Whirlpool washers and dryers, up and around the lastest in laptop and PCs showcases and wound up ending near the 50's sci-fi alien B-movie flying saucer decorated cafe located all the wayyyyyy in the right hand rear of the store. Never mind that there were at least 42 cashiers on hand. Never mind that the store and its parking lot combined is practically the same size and width of Staples Center or any small stadium for the matter. It was an hour long wait to buy the new Star Wars trilogy on DVD. It didn't matter what you were buying - if it being a entire home theater or a small little plastic packaged transistor component for some electronic doo dad that junior is working on for the annual school science fair - there was no avoiding the...line. Eight out of every ten people were on that line from 10 AM to 11 AM with the holy grail of dvds tucked ever so gallantly under their armpit. Everyone who passed me with a shopping cart or just to come to grab a two liter bottle of carbonated stomach acid at least muttered these exact same words under his or her's breath: 'you gotta be fuckin' kidding me'

No mac, you're just going to have to endure like the rest of us eager tikes waiting to take this package home and finally dissect the digitally remastered answer to the universal question: Who really shot his laser cannon first at the Catina Bar scene: Geeko or Han Solo? Mac, you're just going to have to endure the endless obnoxious barrage of geek speak like the rest of us from the reminiscing mouths of past laserdisc or Beta owners about the virtues or disparagements of the unconquerable Lucasfilms. Oh Yes, Mister or Mrs non-purveyors of popular culture, you will suffer the acrid tonguelashings of a incomprehensible banter for second upon tumultous echoing second in a lucid chattering world of overweight and acne scarred skin blabbermouths who know not the meaning of the words - 'hidden feature spoiler warning '. And you endure harshly for your utter lack of understanding that this is the release dates of all release dates in multimedia history. So take that king size Snicker bar, that cruddy Cosmopolitian Magazine with that skank Katie Homes on the cover, take that cruddy 9 hour blank VHS tape to record all your time consuming worthless contrived daytime soap operas, and your shitty George Forman grilled cheese sandwich maker and SHUT THE FUCK UP AND WAIT IN LINE LIKE THE REST OF US, YOU GODAMN WHINER! For the sole and simple reason: another legal holiday has been official declared for Star Wars fans and there's not a godamn thing you can do about it.

And that's where I am today- brown nosed deep in the dvd quaqmire of no return. I have been totally assimilated to do my part in the digital revolution to the point where I now shrug off all human contact and sacrifice my entire weekends, whereas I could be out hitting the clubs, checking out live gigs and shoveling twenty dollar bills up some stripper's gine gine. Instead, me and my forty pound overweighted ass is now content to settle in a cheesy captain folding chair and plug up my brain cells with expanded editions of certain genre movies, anime, or revisiting long lost memories of certain shows you'd watch when you were ten or eleven but weren't quite old enough to grasp the comprehension of the story the show was telling.

A couple of years back, I bought a DVD player to watch merely on the weekends - and get back in the game of renting movies again. I was on the verge of cleaning up some credit - (or in some cases, I never had any at all until Capitol One came around. Let's face it: most people who were allowed credit cards were people with rich backgrounds, had a good paying job, or were attending college. I'd like to think that being employed full time had something to do with it also) and better I knew it, Blockbuster Video was welcoming me with open arms and I started renting movies on disc because they weren't becoming too readily assessible on VHS anymore, - but you probably been through the same shit I'm talking about. Then as soon as prices begin to bottom out, I realized I was beginning to spend more money than I was on comic books, and it became even more problematic when I started spending so much time at the studio's employee store and finding that I could get entire season sets of HBO shows for at least half off of suggested retail. And lo, they started to come in by the shitload- Sopranos, Six Feet Under, Curb Your Enthusiam, Sex in the City, the Wire, etc. All for a mere half off of what they sell at Best Buy's or Tower Records. Shows that I've haven't been privileged to see after living in a cable deprived house for eight years.

And now it hasn't been long that I can't go on without a day without putting in a disc in the player. It just isn't the movie itself- the addiction lies in finding the hidden eggs that the studio just neglect to tell you about (easter eggs is the technical term for throwing in bonus footages such as screen tests, bloopers, outtakes, or three making of featurettes and not listing them on the packaging. You have to find them ourselves by fucking around with the remote.) and soaking in the picture clarity and...

Yeah, I've become a DVDoholic. I've given up one substance abuse (comic books) over another. I am a self professed maligner of programming strategy.

Next week- we'll take a look inside the Coatney Channel.

~

Coat

LAPSE OF MY REGULARLY SCHEDULED MEMORY SHANK

You know something- I forgot it was Thursday today. I fucked up. I was too busy with other projects to notice. I finished up with my submissions packet to Diamond and last night instead of watching MUST SEE TV (Dennis Farina on L&O?- shit gotta set the timer)I went with the option of MUST FINISH OUTSTANDING BELATED projects instead. I've got this grand idea for a Batman multi-arc that sort of takes its' cue from the current labotomy administration. I don't understand why no one has come up with this idea before: contractors.

That's all I'm going say.

Smallville last night was pretty neat. Glad the network took my suggestion of Margot Kidder to heart.

So there stands the blog nazi shaking his gestapo bobbing head and he's giving the slit throat motion.

Tomorrow - DVD talk. Post #200.

~

Coat

HALF- ASS!! YES @ THE UNIVERSAL AMPHITHEATER September 19, 2004

I was too busy writing a review of a Yes concert I went to on Sunday without even half trying. I posted it on Yesnet this afternoon. Easily accessible through the band's website- www.yesworld.com. Enjoy- although I can't promise you anything.

Hey, does anyone remember who Marv Albert's favorite rock band is?

Its' YEEEEEEEEESSSSSSSS!

And so here I am just a few years older since I've seen the last Yes concert at the Universal Ampitheatre (not one of my favorite venues in the whole world, but easily accessible from my house). although what I got was the abridged version, so to speak.

Earlier in the year, another important Yes event was celebrated in my neck of the San Fernando Valley and that was the in-store signing release party of the U.S version of Rhino's Ulimate Yes collection and the Yesspeak DVD at the Sherman Oaks Galleria's Tower Record- a store that was literally 3 short blocks from my house. That was a fun experience, getting up at 4 AM in the morning just to wait in line for a wristband and chat it up with Valley locals about Yes music.

Hmmm, these sexagenarian old rockers are getting closer and closer to where I live, I wonder if I just invite them over for a barbacue or something.

But that was a full on assult of acoustic serendipity and a fun evening of meet and greet - one of which I will always cherish for my remaining years. I wanted so much to check out the Anaheim show, but for one who doesn't get around in a SUV and relies on public transport, that is one gig that might as well be as far out of reach as the south side of the sky- so I guess this show I saw Sunday would just as well have been my dog's Saturday night's dinner scraps.

First, I'm grateful that the tour merchandise's prices weren't out in the stratosphere. I found a good $15.00 priced t-shirt (probably the lowest I've paid at a concert in years - maybe since when I was a snotty nosed 15 year old at the Tormato tour), although I'm kicking myself for not picking up the 35 dollar long sleeved Relayer one (didn't see it until I left the concert) and the program book was a steal for $10 with a tribute to bootlegged concerts. Surly some appetizer to what will whet our full coarse of the proposed 3 disc live set that Rhino has scheduled for release in the near future.

Security precautions made a good portion of the ticket holders late for Dream Theater, as evident by the cattle prodded march to the major pat 'ho' down provided by Uni staff members. When I got inside, Dream Theater as just ending a song from one of their older albums before launching into one of their most brilliant instrumental pieces, 'Stream of Consciousness' from their latest studio effort, Train of Thought. Haven't seen the band since the 2000 Metropolis tour ( and there was a lot of stuff from the previous two albums that I haven't heard live before ), so it was kinda of awkward to see DT occupy such a large stage- I'm so used to seeing them perform at smaller venues such as the House of Blues that they looked as if they were too small to be up there. Mike Portnoy is still, as usual, the star of the show just bitchslappin' that drum kit away like a galactic warrior roaring to jettison into hyperdrive. The stuff he does to those skins really make my toes curl. And I think Jordan Rudess was purposily in a Yes homage mode that night- some of the timbres coming from his keyboard was sort of Wakemaneques, especially when they went into toe tapping territory on 'Solitary Shell'. Damn, I really dig that twirl-a- whirl keyboard stand that Rudess sports on stage. That could be really useful in any keyboard player's arsenal. Also I've noticed that guitar god John P is starting to sprout a bald spot.

And then it was on to the Steve Howe hair club for men.

So it was here that I caught my first glimpse of the new designs for the Roger Dean Macy's Thanksgiving Day parade. Varilites, camera, action. And if you squint closely, you'll spot Keanu Reeves popping out of one of Alan White's robot bass drum pods like he did in 'the Matrix'.

The short abreviated set opened beautifully with two songs I've never heard seen performed live before, 'Going for the One' and 'Sweet Dreams'. Jon Anderson's voice cracking under the pressure of the high notes- but not by much- just a little tweakening in the Frodo vocal infrastructure, but nothing to be concerned about. There was the first of three guitar/keyboard solo duel frolicking between Rick Wakeman and Howe during the end of "Sweet Dream". I don't know who really won but Howe and Wakeman would butt heads again at the conclusion of South Side of the Sky and Starship Trooper.

Unfortunely the two opening numbers would be the only highlight of the show for me. The rest of the show with the exception of the acoustic interlude, was just a ho hum, been there, done that kind of extravaganza for me. And the reason why this obtuse dread of melancholy washes over me is because I look at most of the set list and it's BEEN THERE, DONE THAT. I've already heard Yours is No Disgrace dozens of times. The same with Awaken and heck, I don't even no longer want to go to places where And You and I have been - that was my cue for a ciggie break.

It would be nice if the band could take a year or two off from touring - even though the twilight years are beckoning over the horizon and the risk of Steve Howe keeling over anyday now becoming more inevitable ( but it was a relief to know that the Geritol was giving him more pep than usual that night) just to sit back and record one new last record with Wakeman- even if it was to say good-bye and disappear into the sunset- it would be the honorable way - with Rick on board the sailing ship to nowhere leaving at any place.

Please guys, new some new material to tour behind- or the franchise is going to wind up as bad as the Moody Blues where you will no longer need a scorecard to predict the set list. I gave up on that band when Justin Hayward and John Lodge gave poor Patrick Moraz the heave ho.

I wouldn't want the same happening to my favorite minstrels in the world.

~

Coat