Originally published at KJToo. You can comment here or there.

Chris Miller calls it “The Great Information Detox”, but I’m going to go with “Internet Detox” this year. No Twitter or Tumblr, no Facebook or Flickr, no blogging or reading RSS feeds—not until 2010.

Before I go, I want to thank everyone who participated in How Not to Grow a Beard Month this year. More importantly, thank you for spreading the word far and wide about Beards4Boobs, and for bringing in donations to fund breast cancer research. Last week, I was wondering whether we’d hit $2,000; yesterday morning I thought we might not hit our goal of $2,500; I went to bed last night happy that we’d managed to exceed the goal by nearly $200; this morning, I woke up to a final total of $3,663.23! My flabber is officially gasted. So a huge “Thank You” to everyone who participated, putting their scruffy cheeks and chin on display all through the month of November, and another huge “Thank You” to everyone who sponsored a beard. You are all awesome, generous people who clearly have much love for boobs in your hearts.

That’s it from me until January. I hope your holidays are happy.

Originally published at KJToo. You can comment here or there.

Queen is one of those guilty pleasures: a band whose music is great, but I’m embarrassed to admit that I like.

— Anonymous, during a recent conversation we had about music.

I don’t have any trouble admitting that I like Queen, personally, but I do hesitate sometimes before revealing that enjoy some other musicians and musical groups, like Ace of Base and (gasp!) Yanni. I also like enough of the music from The Backyardigans, a Nick Jr. show that my young apprentice occasionally watches, that I’ve purchased several songs from their repertoire (ostensibly for my son’s enjoyment, though I listen to them when he’s not around).

Some people consider ABBA a guilty pleasure, but so much of my childhood occurred while “Dancing Queen” and “Waterloo” were spinning on my dad’s record player that I can’t feel even the slightest bit of embarrassment about enjoying them.1

What makes a guilty pleasure? Why should I (or anyone else, for that matter) feel guilty for enjoying the music of a 70s Scandinavian pop group (or a 90s copycat of a 70s Scandinavian pop group) or a smug, over-coiffed, Greek synthesizer slinger?2

Context plays a big part; the music I’ll readily cop to enjoying depends a lot on who I’m talking to and what sort of music we’re discussing.3 Am I likely to mention that I own half a dozen Enya albums when the musical topic is metal groups? Not terribly.4 That’s not to say I’ll deny owning those Enya albums, mind you—there’s just less of a likelihood they’ll be mentioned in that context than if the genre of the moment is overdubbed, ethereal Irish New Age.5

There’s also the context of the artist or group itself. ABBA is a product of the early 1970s, and everything about ABBA—from their glam-pop sound to their stage costumes and album covers—is a testament to the time period. There are aspects of every decade in the past half-century that are mocked, from the exaggerated Nuclear Family of the 1950s to Free Love in the 1960s and Big Hair in the 1980s,6 but I don’t think any decade is shunned with such socio-fashionistic fervor as the 1970s.7

Then there are individual songs from artists or groups who might not otherwise be considered guilty pleasures. Neil Diamond’s “America” with its bombastic, unabashed patriotism; the saccharine sweetness of “Lovely, Love My Family” by The Roots (produced for another Nick Jr. show, Yo Gabba Gabba!); the sappy sentimentality of Marc Cohn’s “Silver Thunderbird”—all songs that tug at my emotions to such a degree that I often struggle to keep the tears down when I listen to them.8

What else about a genre, group, artist or song might make it a guilty pleasure? What are your personal musical guilty pleasures and why are they guilty?

1. In my memory, my father owned exactly three distinct categories of LPs: ABBA, Bill Cosby and Country & Western. [back]
2. I don’t know that Yanni is actually smug, but he certainly comes across that way. If you’ve ever seen his Live at the Acropolis performance, you may know what I mean. [back]
3. Peer pressure: no expiration date. [back]
4. I may not be likely to mention that I own three Metallica albums, either, as Metallica fans seem to be divided into pre-Load fans and…me. [back]
5. Which, admittedly, is a fairly specific genre. [back]
6. What are the 1990s mocked for, you ask? Mostly Ace of Base and Yanni, I think. [back]
7. Is there any musical genre more scorned than disco? I think not. Nonetheless, I do enjoy a Bee Gees tune every now and then. [back]
8. Yes, I’m destined to turn into the sort of father who is moved to tears by long-distance telephone service advertisements on television. I’m told it’s hereditary. [back]

Originally published at KJToo. You can comment here or there.

“We’re going to get a turkey,” I said on the way to the grocery store last night. “Gobble gobble gobble!”

From his car seat behind me, Kyle asked, “Why did you say ‘Gobble gobble gobble’?”

“Because that’s the sound a turkey makes,” I said. “Well, a live turkey, anyway.”

“But not dead ones?” Kyle asked.

“No,” I admitted. “Not dead ones. The one we’re getting is a frozen turkey.”

“Frozen?” Kyle asked. “In carbonite?”

Originally published at KJToo. You can comment here or there.

Once upon a time, I thought it might be fun to see if—by not shaving for an entire month—I could grow a beard. In homage to National Novel Writing Month (AKA NaNoWriMo), I decided to call my delusional pursuit How Not To Grow A Beard Month, or HoNoToGroABeMo for short; and in deference to the nigh-obsessive desire to inform the world of one’s progress that comes along with endeavours like NaNoWriMo, I decided that I would photograph my “progress” every day and post it—along with some of my typical inane babble—on this very blog.

I was not in the least bit surprised when, thirty days later, my face looked as though it might once have had a proper beard but had since gotten the mange. I was, however, surprised when—a year later—my friend Bob Voegerl announced that not only would he join in my mad beard-not-growing farce, but that he was building a website dedicated to the effort. And thus sprang into being the official HoNoToGroABeMo website.

Eight people—men, we shall call them—from two continents participated in How Not To Grow A Beard Month last year, and there was some talk about possibly trying to raise some money for charity. I didn’t think we would manage to drum up enough interest to make a charitable pursuit worthwhile, so the notion fell into the deepest recesses of my mind.

Then, in May of 2009, Bob’s mother passed away after a short but intense battle with undetected breast cancer that had spread to her brain. In late October, Bob announced that he had added a new feature to the How Not To Grow A Beard Month website: Beards4Boobs, a charity fundraiser for the Ann Voegerl Memorial Breast Cancer Research Fund. The idea is simple: donors can choose to sponsor their favorite beard, and the beard that raises the most money for the fund will receive a fabulous prize.

I’ve been overwhelmed at the response so far. We’re just a few days into November and we’ve received nearly $700 in donations. One of our participants, Dr. John Cmar, has $250 worth of sponsorship for his beard.1 Last night, our first female participant threw her bare chin into the ring; Mur Lafferty arrived to show us boys that we don’t know jack about not growing beards.

It’s amazing to watch something that was born out of pure silliness turn into something that’s actually worthwhile doing. Please, if you can, go to the site and sponsor one of these folks and their chins (be they growing hair upon them or not).

1. Wesley Clifford
2. John Cmar
3. Gus “The Bearded Goose” Gosselin
4. Jeff Greiner
5. Michael Harrison
6. Adam Johnson
7. Kris Johnson
8. Mur Lafferty
9. Chris Miller
10. David Moore
11. Jim Van Verth
12. Bob Voegerl

To everyone who has already sponsored a beard: thank you for your generosity. I’ll be posting updates throughout the month.

[UPDATE] If you’ve donated and you don’t see the total update immediately, worry not. Bob currently has to update the donation amounts by hand, so there may be a delay before your generosity is reflected on the official page.

1. Truth be told, he needs to grow that beard back. His naked face haunts my nightmares. [back]

Originally published at KJToo. You can comment here or there.

The time has come, the walrus said, to talk of many things…

—Lewis Carroll, “The Walrus and The Carpenter” (from Through the Looking-Glass and What Alice Found There)

There may not be a whole lot of activity here in my little corner of this here series of tubes, but life does not stop when a person fails to update his blog regularly. To wit:

The Secret Lair

The podcast is still going strong, with a new episode appearing every few weeks or so, and a new installment of our webcomic appearing only slightly less frequently. In the most recent illustrated adventure, which I shall henceforth refer to as the Irradiated Arachnid Incident, the side effects of a spider-bite are not what you might expect. Meanwhile, Chris and I managed to convince our wives (yes, there was alcohol involved) to join us in a discussion of Audrey Niffenegger’s The Time Traveler’s Wife, that book they made into that movie with that one guy. We also sat down with Mick Bradley, with whom we have had dealings in the past, to discuss that most mysterious and misunderstood style of roleplaying, the story game.

Recent episodes of the podcast have featured staff reports from some creative (and incredibly generous) folks we are fortunate to call friends, those being Dr. John Cmar, Jay “Kingfish” Lynn, Natalie Metzger and Ken Newquist. These reports speak of schemes of ever-escalating complexity and crackpottedness, with a smattering of bizarre truth thrown in to blur the line between the real and the surreal.

Game Night

Approximately every two weeks, the gamers descend upon the International House of Johnson for one form of interactive entertainment or another. We’re currently in the middle of a Savage Worlds campaign run by Chris Miller, but last night we took a break from polyhedral dice and roleplaying to rock.

Armed with fake guitars, fake drums and a very real microphone, we took to the virtual stage in Rock Band 2 on the Xbox 360. Four adults and the aforementioned fake instruments do not fit particularly will into the area around our “entertainment center”, but that didn’t dissuade us in the slightest. Some of the songs we rocked out to:

•  ”Re: Your Brains” and “Skullcrusher Mountain” by Jonathan Coulton
• “I Won’t Back Down” by Tom Petty and the Heartbreakers
• “Here it Goes Again” by OK Go
• “Take it on the Run” by REO Speedwagon
• “The Best Day Ever” by Spongebob Squarepants (featuring guest vocalist Kyle Abraham Johnson)
• “Aqualung” by Jethro Tull (featuring Chris Miller on vocals and no one on the fake flute)

After the out-rocking concluded, we gathered at the dining room table for Monty Python Fluxx, followed by Fist of Dragonstones, the latter of which I thought was woefully underappreciated.

Olde Fartz

After a bit of a late-summer hiatus, the Olde Fartz Distance Learning Center is back in session. Our favorite game of late has been Half-Life 2 Deathmatch, though we did return to our roots for an evening of WarCraft III: Reign of Chaos a few weeks ago. There’s also talk of playing some Team Fortress 2 and Dungeon Siege, and P.G. Holyfiend keeps yammering about Sins of a Solar Empire, too. Yammering, I tell you. Enrollment in the Olde Fartz has increased to the point where we have abandoned Skype voice conferencing in favor of a TeamSpeak server. If you’re interested in joining the fun, drop me a line and I’ll take your application to the admissions committee.

Con on the Cob

Last year I managed to attend all four days of Con on the Cob, a local gaming, art and general geek convention. This year, Laura and I only attended on Saturday, but we still had a lot of fun. We both bought new dice (practically a con requirement) and I bought Dominion, an excellent card game from Rio Grande Games.1 We watched a bit of the Iron Artist competition, then briefly fled to a nearby restaurant with Chris Miller and Rachel Ross for dinner, then it was back to the con for a couple of games of Dominion. Next year, I think we’re going to shoot for attending on both Friday and Saturday so we can do a little more gaming and maybe record an episode of The Secret Lair on-site.

Alas, I have no convention photos to share this year, as the battery charger for our Fujifilm Finepix J10 went AWOL right before my sister’s wedding.2 A new charger has been purchased and will hopefully be delivered in time for Hallowe’en costume photos.

NaNoWriMo vs. NaBloPoMo vs. HoNoToGroABeMo

I have no intention of attempting to write a 50,000-word novel in thirty days come November, nor will I make any real effort to post at least one blog entry a day in the same time period. On the other hand, I fully intend to shave off my beard on October 31st and then spend a month failing to grow anything resembling a manly face-mane. That’s right, for the third year running, How Not to Grow A Beard Month will return. Mega-kudos once again to The Cynical Optimist for creating and maintaining the website.

The Great Superhero Movie Project

Despite a general dearth of new reviews, I have been watching and rating various superhero movies over the past few months. There are currently 112 movies on the list (with more to be added soon); I’ve seen about 90 of them, rated about 60 and reviewed a paltry 11. Yeah, I have a bit of catching up to do in the review department.

1. Laura and I have played several times since the convention, but the four-player limit means it’s tough to include at Game Night (when we typically have six or seven people). There’s one expansion to the game (Intrigue) with a second (Seaside) on the way, both adding cards and allowing for additional players, so it might just grace the Game Night table someday soon. [back]
2. Did I mention that my sister got married? And we drove to Chicago for the wedding? And that Kyle wore suspenders? And that the bride and groom were joined “by the power of the Internet”? No? I should have. Sorry. [back]

Originally published at KJToo. You can comment here or there.

“What’s that?” Kyle asked.

“This,” I said, turning the deep-fried wonton stuffed with cream cheese and crab meat over between my fingers, “is a rangoon.”

Kyle turned to his cousin and exclaimed, “He’s eating a raccoon!“

Originally published at KJToo. You can comment here or there.

Today is the thirteenth anniversary of the lovely day in October of 1996 when Ms. Laura Sperry became Mrs. Laura Johnson. Some of you were there and may remember the very day, perhaps even better than I do. To me, the day was a whirlwind of activity and I remember only bits and pieces; all of them good.

So how have the last thirteen years treated us? Well, we’ve had our ups and downs, but I think Laura would agree when I say there have definitely been more of the former than the latter.

In 1996, Laura was driving a 1994 Pontiac Sunbird. The little blue car left our driveway for the last time just this spring. Laura now drives a 2000 Pontiac Montana and I drive the MiniVan…of DOOM! (A 2002 Pontiac Montana, as it happens.) We also had an Oldsmobile Alero for three years, a car I believe Laura misses to this day.

In 1996, we lived in Fairport Harbor, Ohio (my second apartment in that little town). Shortly after we got married, we moved to Mayfield Heights, Ohio, where we lived until 2001; then we established the International House of Johnson in Willoughby (yes, Ohio).

In 1996, Laura was an assistant managing editor and I a computer sales associate. Our roles have changed to stay-at-home mom and systems engineer, respectively.

In 1996, it was just the two of us in what amounted to a studio apartment. The first addition to our family was Sushi, an angry betta, shortly followed by Rosencrantz and Guildenstern, two cats whose IQs have been steadily declining since 2003. Sushi lasted about two years before a combination of impotent rage and oppressive ennui caused his little piscean heart to burst.

In 2006, we were joined by Kyle, who I often refer to as “my young apprentice”. We weren’t exactly expecting Kyle; in fact, we didn’t find out he was on the way until he had been simmering for about four and a half months. He arrived on Friday, January 13th and I daresay nothing has been the same since.

Since 1996, Laura and I have attended a couple of high school reunions, umpteen weddings, and an unfortunate number of funerals. We’ve celebrated births, birthdays, anniversaries, and holidays. We’ve taken two Caribbean cruises. We’ve traveled to Texas, Nevada, North Carolina, Florida, Pennsylvania, New York and Illinois together. We’ve driven (or flown) back and forth to Upper Michigan at least once and sometimes two or three times a year.

The police have been dispatched to our house three times; the fire department once. The only casualty related to any of those visits was our mailbox.

There are certainly things I would change about the last thirteen years—times when the phrase “wedded bliss” didn’t always apply—but I wouldn’t change the October day that started it all, when we had no idea what the future would hold and knew only that we wanted to spend it together. I’ve seen part of that future; I’m looking forward to the rest.

Originally published at KJToo. You can comment here or there.

I’ve been updating the status of various books on this list since shortly after I first published my 2009 Summer Reading List. This post is scheduled to be published at 5:18pm on the 22nd of September, the official start of Fall. Let’s see how much reading I actually got done this summer…

Finished

1. Shambling Towards Hiroshima by James Morrow.

   Rating:  

2. The Touch by F. Paul Wilson.

   Rating:  

3. Glasshouse by Charles Stross.

   Rating:  

4. His Majesty’s Dragon (Temeraire · Book 1) by Naomi Novik.

   Rating:  

5. Anathem by Neal Stephenson (Audio; narrated by William Dufris).

   Rating:  

6. Lamb by Christopher Moore.

   Rating:  

7. Jonathan Strange & Mr. Norrell by Susanna Clarke (Audio; narrated by Simon Prebble).

   Rating:  

8. The Time Traveler’s Wife by Audrey Niffenegger.

   Rating:  

9. The Strain by Guillermo del Toro and Chuck Hogan (Audio; narrated by Ron Perlman).

   Rating:  

10. WWW: Wake by Robert J. Sawyer (Audio; various narrators).

    Rating:  

11. Dead Witch Walking by Kim Harrison (Audio; narrated by Marguerite Gavin).

    Rating:  

12. The Stepsister Scheme by Jim C. Hines.

    Rating:  

13. Paranoia by Joseph Finder (Audio; narrated by Scott Brick).

    Rating:  

14. Norse Code by Greg van Eekhout.

    Rating:  

15. The Destroyer #14: Judgment Day by Warren Murphy and Richard Sapir.

    Rating:  

16. The Way of Shadows by Brent Weeks.

    Rating:  

In Progress

1. Saturn’s Children by Charles Stross (Audio; narrated by Bianca Amato).

Not Yet Started

1. Throne of Jade (Temeraire · Book 2) by Naomi Novik.
2. Personal Effects: Dark Art by J.C. Hutchins and Jordan Weisman.
3. Agent to the Stars by John Scalzi.

Not too shabby, overall. My peculiar flavor of attention deficit disorder came into play, as I expected it would, and I read or started to read several titles that weren’t on the original list. I also failed to even start a handful from the original list, but maybe I’ll get around to them this fall. Speaking of fall, here (in no particular order) is the 2009 Fall Reading List:

1. Midnight’s Children by Salman Rushdie (Audio; narrated by Lyndam Gregory).
2. The Devil You Know by Mike Carey.
3. Mistborn by Brandon Sanderson.
4. Batman: The Stone King by Alan Grant.
5. Black Powder War (Temeraire · Book 3) by Naomi Novik.
6. Broken Crescent by S. Andrew Swann.
7. Furies of Calderon (The Codex Alera · Book 1) by Jim Butcher.
8. Fool Moon (The Dresden Files · Book 2) by Jim Butcher.
9. Condemned to Repeat It: The Philospher Who Flunked Life and Other Great Lessons from History by Wick Allison, Jeremy Adams and Gavin Hambly.
10. Ill Wind by Kevin J. Anderson and Doug Beason.
11. The Two Faces of Tomorrow by James P. Hogan.

Originally published at KJToo. You can comment here or there.

Someone has to say it: Dora the Explorer is a complete ripoff of The Lord of the Rings.

Let’s review:

• Dora is a short person from a fantastical land who is called upon to deliver an item to a faraway place. On her journey (or quest), she must overcome a number of obstacles and often encounters strange creatures.
• Frodo Baggins is a short person from a fantastical land who is called upon to deliver an item (The One Ring) to a faraway place (The Cracks of Doom in Mordor). On his quest, he encounters strange creatures and must overcome a number of obstacles.
• Dora is accompanied by a loyal companion (also short) named Boots.
• Frodo Baggins is accompanied by a loyal companion (also short) named Samwise Gamgee.
• Dora is often joined by companions of different species: Isa the Iguana and Benny the Bull, to name two.
• Frodo Baggins is joined by companions of different races: Gimli the Dwarf and Legolas the Elf, to name two.
• Dora is pursued by Swiper the Fox, a conniving-yet-cowardly thief who wants to steal something she is carrying.
• Frodo Baggins is pursued by Gollum, a conniving-yet-cowardly thief who wants to steal The One Ring.
• Dora is eventually joined by Diego, an animal rescuer who is skilled at tracking and outdoor survival.
• Frodo Baggins is eventually joined by Aragorn, a ranger who is skilled at tracking and outdoor survival.
• Dora must often solve puzzles using words and phrases in another language (Spanish).
• Frodo Baggins was unable to enter the Mines of Moria until the word “friend” was spoken in another language (Elvish).

Of course, there are a few elements of Dora the Explorer that aren’t ripped straight out of The Lord of the Rings…or are there? Let’s consider:

• Dora has a magical backpack that contains whatever object she might need to solve a puzzle or overcome an obstacle. There’s no magical backpack in The Lord of the Rings, but Dora’s backpack sounds an awful lot like a Bag of Holding from the Dungeons & Dragons roleplaying game (which was around decades before Dora the Explorer), and everyone knows that Dungeons & Dragons is the King of All Lord of the Rings Ripoffs.
• Frodo Baggins is led by Gandalf, a wise old wizard who tells him which way to go and, ultimately, leads him into dire peril. Dora is rarely seen in the company of old men, wise or otherwise. True enough, but she does consult with a magical, talking map that tells her how to get to her destination, typically through waypoints that are fraught with peril (windy bridges, treacherous mountains, and the like). The Map may not be carrying a staff or wearing a pointy hat, but he definitely fills the “magical guide” role. (”Tell Frodo he has to go through the Mines of Moria, over the Fields of Pellenor and up Aman Amarth!”)

I’m sure there will be naysayers; those who call this evidence “circumstantial” or “coincidental” and point out that “Nickelodeon” isn’t really an anagram of “J.R.R. Tolkien”. You know: nutjobs. But to the rest of you—those who can see Middle Earth in the unnamed South American country in which Dora resides—I extend an invitation to show me more. Peel the veil further back to expose more proof. What have I missed? What more is there?

Originally published at KJToo. You can comment here or there.

Mega-Shark Versus Giant Octopus (2009)

Starring Deborah Gibson, Lorenzo Lamas, Sean Lawlor, Vic Chao, Dean Kreyling, Stephen Blackehart, Mark Hengst and Michael Teh

Written and directed by Jack Perez

Rating:  

CAUTION: This review spoils the tentacles off Mega-Shark Versus Giant Octopus, but hopefully saves you the trouble of watching it yourself.

Oceanographer Emma MacNeil (Deborah Gibson)1 “borrows” a research submarine to observe the behavior of humpback whales off the coast of Alaska. All is going well until a military helicopter drops an experimental sonar device into the middle of the whale pod. The sonar drives the humbacks crazy, causing them to swim at high speed into the submerged face of a nearby glacier. Entombed in the glacier are a megalodon (henceforth referred to as mega-shark) and a giant octopus (henceforth referred to as giant octopus), two ancient aquatic beasts that were apparently frozen in the midst of a tooth-on-tentacle2 fight several million years ago. As the suicidal whales collide with the glacier face, tons of ice shear off and fall into the ocean, releasing (and, for reasons unknown, simultaneously reviving) the antediluvian combatants.

Oops.

Mega-shark and giant octopus swim off in different directions, leaving MacNeil to wonder whether she actually saw the big beasties or they were a delusion brought about by the powerful sonar device. The oceanographer returns to California, where she’s called in to investigate the mutilated corpse of a whale that has washed up on the beach. Before she can complete a thorough investigation, MacNeil is fired for stealing (and damaging) the submarine.3

Something about the beached cetacean doesn’t sit well with MacNeil, so she sneaks onto the site after dark and manages to retrieve a fragment of tooth lodged in one of the wounds. The fragment is more than a foot long, and it’s not until she teams up with her former teacher, Lamar Sanders (Sean Lawlor), that she is able to identify it as coming from a tooth that is perhaps eleven or twelve feet in length—a tooth that could only have come from the massive mouth of Carcharodon Megalodon.4 Mega-shark.

Meanwhile, unbeknownst to MacNeil, the mouth in which her tooth fragment once resided is busy chomping on, of all things, a big ol’ jet airliner. That’s right, mega-shark leaps out of the water (presumably thousands of feet out of the water) to take down a passenger jet that has descended below the cloud cover to avoid turbulence. Mega-shark officially dominates both sea and sky (at least sky that’s over sea), which means humanity is totally screwed.

What is giant octopus5 up to while mega-shark feasts upon fresh whale with a side of passenger jet? Why, attacking an oil rig off the coast of Japan of course! Indeed, the colossal cephalopod unleashes eight tentacles of doom upon the oil-drilling platform,6 leaving only one survivor (Michael Teh) to tell the horrific tale. Dr. Seiji Shimada (Vic Chao) contacts Sanders for assistance identifying the attacker based on a police sketch. Shimada flies to California, where he meets with Sanders and MacNeil, who have acquired videotape shot during MacNeil’s submarine joyride. Comparing the sketch made by the survivor of the oil rig attack with a grainy shot of something moving past the submarine’s external camera, the trio come to the only reasonable conclusion: a giant octopus destroyed the oil rig.7

Meanwhile, the military has completely failed to kill mega-shark,8 and that has Allan Baxter (Lorenzo Lamas) in a cranky mood; not only isn’t mega-shark dead, the warship that was supposed to kill it has been destroyed, and warships are expensive.9 Baxter’s mood isn’t at all improved by the fact that he must now rely on Science to succeed where Big Friggin’ Guns have failed. But does Baxter bother to pick up a phone and ask Science to give him a hand? Of course not; he sends an armed commando squadron to Sanders’ house to abduct the scientists and their fancy brains.10

Sanders, MacNeil and Shimada decide that the best way to deal with the big beasts is to lure them into shallow water where they can be trapped and neutralized. Their efforts to create an effective means to attract the monsters are futile until Shimada and MacNeil duck out for a quickie in the broom closet and, basking in their afterglow, hit upon the idea of using pheromones to lure the creatures into the shallows.11

Pop quiz: How do you know when you’ve hit upon the right formula for your pheromone-based prehistoric critter attractant? Why, when it glows, of course! Vive le Science!

Science accomplished, Shimada heads back to Japan to trap the giant octopus while Sanders and MacNeil use a mini-sub to set the pheromone bait in place for mega-shark. If all goes to plan, the prehistoric predator will be lured into San Francisco Bay, where it can be…well, the plan doesn’t really go into a whole lot of detail after mega-shark is in the bay, really; the scientists insist that the creature should not be killed, but there’s never much talk about how to confine and control a shark large enough to pluck jet airliners out of the sky. It’s okay, though, ’cause there’s just no way things will go according to plan.

Sure enough, Sanders has trouble with the mini-sub’s manipulator arm12 and is unable to release the bait. As mega-shark approaches, MacNeil wrestles with the mini-sub’s controls, trying to knock the bait container free of the manipulator arm. She barely succeeds in time to maneuver the submersible out of the monster’s way.

Perhaps realizing that there’s not a whole lot of plan in their plan, Baxter orders the Navy to open fire, but once again the military’s Big Friggin’ Guns prove entirely useless against the awesome might of mega-shark. This tactic would probably have been more effective with a larger special effects budget. As it was, the underwater shots of mega-shark being buffeted by explosions were so poorly realized that it’s no wonder the monster got miffed and decided to eat the Golden Gate Bridge (but only after destroying another terribly expensive Navy warship).

Shimada uses the Navy sub’s videophone13 to report that his efforts to trap the giant octopus in Japan have yielded results: namely a pissed off cephalopod and massive human casualties. Science, it seems, has failed in a manner most epic.

Crankier than ever, Baxter wants to nuke every giant dorsal fin and oversized tentacle out of the ocean and damn the consequences.14 MacNeil offers an alternative solution: Sharktopus Deathmatch!15 The sassy scientist wants to use the pheromone bait to draw the two ancient enemies together for a long overdue, no-holds-barred grudge match.

Everybody who’s anybody (and there aren’t a lot of those) is already aboard one attack submarine or another, so they agree to used the pheromone bait to lure mega-giant octoshark into the Arctic Circle, where the pair will hopefully resume their Hatfield-Capulet feud and kill each other.16

With mega-shark in hot pursuit, Baxter, MacNeil and Sanders race toward the Alaskan coast to meet Shimada and the giant octopus. Mega-shark must be getting tired, because it’s having trouble catching the submarine despite the fact that it reportedly swam at 500 knots while chasing the pheromone bait into San Francisco Bay.17 Mega-shark eventually overtakes the sub and chomps down for a very special version of Seafood Delight, but not before Baxter, MacNeil and Sanders escape in the mini-sub. When mega-shark turns its baleful gaze18 upon the mini-sub, the trio is saved by Shimada’s timely intervention (and a broadside of torpedoes).

Shimada’s sub is grappled by the giant octopus, and it seems that MacNeil is about to lose her fine-scented lover until the cephalopod’s hatred of all things sharktacular comes into play. The tentacled terror releases Shimada’s sub in favor of getting all up in mega-shark’s gill(s) and Shimada is spared.

In the ensuing tussle, nearly every military submarine is either octopulverized or sharkenated. I give style points to giant octopus for demolishing several subs at once, but then immediately dock it several points for having mega-shark all wrapped up and then sticking a tentacle in the one place you don’t want to stick a tentacle when you’re wrasslin’ a shark. Come on, giant octopus! You’ve had 1.5 million years frozen in a glacier to think about this! I’ve seen your diminutive cousins open a screw-top jar, but you don’t realize that it’s a bad idea to stick your arm in a shark’s mouth? Get with the program!

The prehistoric pugilists sink into the icy depths, presumably to die in one another’s embrace, and our heroes return to dry land. Whatever becomes of Allan Baxter? I have no idea, but I’m sure there’s plenty of glowering involved. As for MacNeil and Shimada, they enjoy a romantic moment on the beach before Sanders barges in with infrared images of whatever beasties they’re all going to have to battle19 in the sequel.

I enjoy a schlocky creature feature as much as—and probably more than—the next guy, and have admittedly low standards when it comes to “The Most Dangerous Night on Television”, but Mega-Shark Versus Giant Octopus was a complete bait-and-switch. It’s a bad film made worse by a cheesy-yet-awesome trailer. Mega-shark attacks passenger jet! Giant octopus destroys fighter plane! Mega-shark eats the Golden Gate Bridge! Everything in the trailer (even Deborah Gibson’s “Thrilla in Manila” line) hints at the sort of ridiculous escapism that makes movies like Snakes on a Plane so much fun. The Asylum20 appears to have thrown most of the budget into the few shots that made the trailer so awesome, leaving next to nothing for the eighty-eight minutes that weren’t in the trailer. Shots of mega-shark—all of which are very clearly computer-generated21—are recycled several times and the submarine interior sets are so sparsely decorated that they bear more resemblance to Shimada and MacNeil’s coital broom closet than anything one might see on an actual submarine. The final product wants to be “so bad it’s good”, but is just so bad.

1. If you’re expecting “Lost in Your Eyes” and “Electric Youth” jokes, you’re going to be disappointed; I’m more of a Tiffany fan. [back]
2. Though octopodes indeed have tentacles, they are typically referred to as “arms”. If you ask me, tentacles are far cooler than arms, so I will continue to take some artistic liberty with the terminology. [back]
3. Okay, let me get this straight: MacNeil works in California and somehow manages, on a lark, to not only make off with a research submarine but take it all the way to Alaska and back without her company sending the Coast Guard after her. Did she also “borrow” a boat to transport the submarine, or does this magnificent submersible actually have the range to make the round trip without a surface support vessel? [back]
4. In fact, C. Megalodon’s teeth were probably around seven inches long, so this shark is probably a Carcharodon Ultra-Mega-Megalodon. [back]
5. Hmm. Mega-pus? [back]
6. Ganbatte, Tako-Ooki! [back]
7. It’s a fact: oil rigs are considered a delicacy among octopi. [back]
8. It’s not even a little bit dead. [back]
9. Well, real warships are expensive. Stock footage of warships with muzzle-flashes superimposed over the ever-bow-facing guns is probably significantly less expensive. Real warships also have keels; when the camera switches to mega-shark’s-eye-view for the deadly attack, the computer-generated hull of the warship is as flat and featureless as a toy boat in a bathtub. [back]
10. If you must turn to Science, at least hold the scientists at gunpoint while they work. It reminds them that Guns > Science. [back]
11. ”You sure smell pretty.” “Eureka!” [back]
12. I’d hate to be the maintenance technician who cleared the mini-sub for operation; his best hope of working around subs again is getting a job as a Sandwich Artist. [back]
13. Surprise! Subs have videophones! Videophones that can be used while submerged! [back]
14. Radioactive seas, massive loss of marine life, blah, blah, blah…Go hug a coral reef, hippie. [back]
15. Technically, she compares it to the “Thrilla in Manila”, but I’d rather watch a Sharktopus Deathmatch any day of the week. [back]
16. It never seems to occur to anyone that either beastie will survive. [back]
17. By comparison, an SSN 21 Seawolf-class fast attack submarine has a top speed of 25-35 knots while submerged. [back]
18. ”Like a doll’s eyes…“ [back]
19. With Science! [back]
20. The same production company that brought you Snakes on a Train and Transmorphers. [back]
21. The CGI mega-shark is very poorly done, apart from one or two shots that made it into the trailer and perhaps a few seconds of the Sharktopus Deathmatch. I’m okay with a shark that looks fake; I expect the shark to look fake, but not that fake. [back]