The original Ghostbusters crew had 25 years to make a third movie. For whatever reason, it didn’t happen (and now it can’t happen because Harold Ramis is dead). It’s actually a little weird Sony didn’t force this beloved (and enormously profitable) property into someone else’s hands sooner. I know Murray, Ramis et al had something of a tontine when it came to the rights, but everyone has a price. Chinese Democracy came out before Ghostbusters 3. Do you really believe Axl Rose is more reasonable than Bill Murray?
Still, fans are apoplectic over the announced reboot, as if Paul Feig will simultaneously be erasing the first two movies from history. It’s difficult to comprehend some of the ire. Complaints have already surfaced from die-hards who are upset they’ll now have to share convention space with people cosplaying as Feig’s Ghostbusters; the new technology, you see, will clash with their expertly recreated 1984 proton packs. Guess these costumers never stopped to consider how much some of us detest seeing guys with goatees and backwards Yankee hats parading around as “Ray Stantz.”
I love Ghostbusters so much I’m currently working on a book about its entire history, but I have no problem admitting that up to this point the series has been a rigid boy’s club where female characters aren’t given much to do (even Gozer only takes the form of a woman for about one minute). Paul Feig’s decision to “star hilarious women” in the reboot is refreshing and fun and much needed, and fans who are disagreeing need to cop to their own throbbing sexism. Female-based entertainment is not “a gimmick.” The fictional activity of ghostbusting is not “too rigorous” for women.
Key point: ghostbusting is fucking imaginary. Gender bias in real life is bad enough. Extending it to the land of make believe, that’s insane. “You can pretend to be anything, except this one thing that makes me uncomfortable for some dumb reason, because I’m threatened by change even in a fake world where marshmallow creatures go on rampages.”
I think it’s also worth noting that Katie Dippold, the scribe for Feigbusters, works on “Parks & Rec,” a show I’d consider female-centric but one that also boasts some of the funniest, most fleshed-out, and just plain interesting male characters available. The door swings both ways.
Admittedly, this reboot could crash and burn. Previous experience doesn’t mean jack. Dan Aykroyd has to wake up every day knowing he made Doctor Detroit. Yet, even if Feigbusters turns out to be the new Heaven’s Gate (are my references dusty enough for you?), who cares? It’s just one movie. It’s not meant to replace anything. If it’s really atrocious we can just pretend it never happened, like Rocky V or the Halloween with Paul Rudd or Rob Zombie’s Halloweens or the Dumb & Dumber prequel or Ace Ventura Jr.
My only real investment: I hope they make the Ectomobile cool. I don’t have any suggestions because I’m not really a car person…just make it cool. You know, like stylish but also kinda nerdy. Like the original.
A: Con if we’re talking about eating it. Pro if we’re talking about skipping it across lakes or loading into slingshots or using it as earplugs. They should call sweet corn candy corn and candy corn chewy flavorless sugar nuggets.
It’s late August. You know how I can tell? People are starting to lose their minds about pumpkin spice lattes. Like bald eagles in heat they screech: “PUMPKIN SPICE LATTES ARE COMING! PUMPKIN SPICE LATTES!”
At some point in the past five years this artificial coffee flavoring surpassed Thanksgiving and the leaves changing as the apex of the Fall season. The wonder of nature? The warmth of your family? Fuck that shit, we can make hot liquid taste like a gourd!
But I kid the industrial beverage complex and its tight stranglehold on our emotions. Living in Florida I of course welcome the arrival of PSLs, as they provide the only concrete evidence that the season is actually changing. It’s a blistering ninety-five degrees here year round. Oh sure, for a couple days in February it pretends to be cold, but generally there’s nothing in FL to counter the belief that pool season is eternal.
That can really gum up your melon, the endless summer. How can it be Columbus Day? I’m still wearing shorts and flip flops and this Orlando Magic jersey from 1996. Thankfully, the pumpkin spice latte sends important signals to my brain, saying, “Christmas is coming. You’re gonna be broke again!”
This is a good place to note that Pumpkin Spice Latte would be the perfect name for a celebrity baby. Pumpkin Spice Latte Kardashian. Pumpkin Spice Latte Theron. Pumpkin Spice Latte Ciccone Penn Ritchie Kabbalah.
How’m I doin’ on time? I can stretch this out for another five minutes.
Jerry Only and Glenn Danzig in August of 1981. Photographer unknown.
Central District of California Judge Gary Klausner threw out Glenn Danzig’s lawsuit against former band mate Jerry Only on August 6th, stating that Danzig failed to specify which exact terms of a 1994 legal agreement between the Misfits Only violated when the latter began merchandising Misfits emblems under his own name in the early 2000s.
Noting that the ’94 agreement does not “address any obligation regarding trademark registration or negotiations with individual retail merchandisers as to licensing,” Klausner stated “the Court finds no alleged facts that constitute a breach of the merchandising provision…the [original paper] contemplates that [Only] has a non-exclusive right to merchandise…and otherwise exploit the designs…[and to] to retain 100% of earnings from such exploitation…the Court also finds no other terms that govern the parties’ conduct as it pertains to trademarking and licensing.”
Indeed, the original settlement clearly states “the parties shall be co-owners of [the Misfits name] and all logo(s)” with no obligation to communicate with each other concerning merchandising deals, but it also says “each party shall retain exclusive ownership of any artwork created by that party.” That’s where Danzig lost this round, it seems: by not emphasizing that he created many of the designs Only’s been licensing. Danzig’s suit merely says it’s his era of the band that’s most closely associated with that stuff. Had he stated, “I created the ‘Fiend Skull,’ I created the ‘Horror Business’ cover and all the other classic Misfits artwork Jerry’s currently selling on his website,” things would probably be moving forward.
Is Danzig afraid of coming right out and claiming to be the hand behind the Fiend Skull, a.k.a. the Crimson Ghost, now that the Crimson Ghost film serial he took it from is owned by Paramount? I’ve mentioned this previously, but Paramount is well aware of that skull’s value. They wanted an astronomical fee to let me print a still from the serial in my book. I imagine this is why every legal paper refers to the logo as the “Fiend Skull.” They’re dancing around the fact they appropriated their most beloved icon from a property that’s now in the hands of a billion dollar company.
Not that Paramount would necessarily bother going after the Misfits; they didn’t own TCG when the band began using that skull, the band has been using it so long w/o repercussion, and how much in damages could they really get? Nothing compared to their weekly budgets, surely.
It’s unclear what will happen from here. Danzig certainly receives his due for making all those album covers Only is putting on t-shirts. However, Glenn did wait a very long time to flex his legal muscles, and although he made some fine points in his lawsuit they weren’t fine enough. To be honest, I’m more concerned about his next album, the covers album. I want that yaz to drop already. My fingers are crossed that it’s close to release and Glenn will hit the road behind it on a “Tryin’ to Pay My Lawyers” tour.
- I have no affinity for the first Grease but my house mates were watching this last night and I have an iron clad rule about always stopping to view anything with Eddie Deezen
- Michelle Pfeiffer often resembles Deborah Harry in her role as Stephanie, which is probably no accident; according to Grease 2 lore (now there’s a phrase) the filmmakers approached Harry for the female lead but Deb felt she was too old to be playing a high schooler (never mind that everyone in Grease 2 is too old to be playing a high schooler save Pamela Adlon)
- if we’re to believe this movie, the sport of bowling is an alien concept to the British and they need guidebooks just to have conversations about it
- if we’re to believe this movie, Adrian Zmed is a fucking great singer
- Eddie Deezen is only in Grease 2 for about three minutes and does not seem to be present at the final graduation scene (spoiler alert); this must mean Deezen’s character flunked out or died…we’ll never know for sure, though, because plans for Greases 3 & 4 were scrapped after this one imploded at the box office
- can you imagine the suffocating reheated hell of a Grease 4?
- it’s incredible how absolutely bland the music is in this high profile major studio musical; Michelle Pfeiffer’s big number is called “Cool Rider,” about how she wants to date a cool rider (of motorcycles), making “Greased Lightning” from the first movie look like Chaucer
- Tab Hunter is in this; yes, they make him sing, but he emerges unscathed
- of course the action climaxes in a motorcycle melée/pie fight that breaks out in the middle of a homecoming luau, but since this is Grease 2 the entire set piece is less exciting than a trip to Big Lots
- if you’re in the market to make ninety minutes feel like five hours, run don’t walk to the nearest copy of Grease 2
- if you’re in the market for gratuitous Deezen, take your ass to War Games
The relief map of Hawaii you see on my hand in this photo comes courtesy of a Family Dollar brand frosted toaster pastry (a.k.a. a fake Pop Tart). During this morning’s toasting procedure, the pastry cracked, allowing a few globs of s’more-flavored filling to leak out. Said globs came in contact with my palm as I attempted to remove the pastry from my non-industrial toasting device, searing me like a branding iron.
Coincidentally, just yesterday I was joking on Twitter about the possible radioactivity of Family Dollar brand frosted toaster pastries. Oh, how carefree I was in my mirth, unaware of the shocking and dangerous truths at hand.
I’ve been toasting edibles for over thirty years and nothing like this has ever happened before. Family Dollar, why do you put lava in your frosted toaster pastries? More importantly, why don’t you list the lava in the ingredients? I would have never purchased your off-brand Pop Tarts had I known they contain molten rock.
Yes, I’ve already picked myself up a nice pair of toaster-friendly wooden tongs. Thank you for your concern.
A: Thirty-Nine Years Of Short-Term Memory Loss by Tom Davis; yes, he jumps all over the place and spends too much time talking about the Grateful Dead, but it’s still an entertaining read that offers many a colorful Al Franken story (if you can’t handle Al Franken at his worst you don’t deserve him at his best). All I Did Was Ask by Terry Gross; she mines gold out of Albert Brooks and Grandmaster Flash, manages to handle the entitled jackassery of Gene Simmons with grace. Flipped through Growing Up Brady by Barry Williams; apparently he had great difficulty straightening his hair as a youth. Flipped through Titanic: The Ship That Never Sank? by Robin Gardiner; reads like incomplete text book translated from a few different languages.
Just started Carrie Fisher’s Wishful Drinking; so far so candid and engaging.