Saturday Night Live: Nickelodeon Show

One of the better SNL sketches that I’ve seen in awhile. AND IT DIDN’T EVEN AIR!

"The dog is a gentleman; I hope to go to his heaven not man’s." -Mark Twain. 
RIP Cowboy. May there be many bones and Gatorade bottles and pastures for you to enjoy.

"The dog is a gentleman; I hope to go to his heaven not man’s." -Mark Twain.
RIP Cowboy. May there be many bones and Gatorade bottles and pastures for you to enjoy.

James Gandolfini's Swan Song

You know, it’s fitting that James Gandolfini’s final film is set in an area where Tony Soprano made his name known. 

Just across the Hudson and East Rivers, in Brooklyn, we find Marv, a middle-aged bar owner (well former bar owner he says, but not willingly). As we watch the trailer, we find out that Cousin Marvs — Marv’s former bar — is an informal bank. Money comes in, it’s placed in a dropbox under the bar counter, someone picks it up. Simple.

The conflict is easy to predict; the bar is robbed, and now it’s up to Marv and his bartender — and money handler — Bob (played by Tom Hardy) to find out who has it. 

I’ve been a huge fan of Gandolfini’s work. Being in an Italian family, Sundays in the 2000s consisted of two things: big family dinners and The Sopranos. It was then I was introduced to Tony… I mean James.

His roles in the latter part of his life all had their quirks. The CIA Director in Zero Dark Thirty. Albert in Enough Said. Mickey in Killing Them Softly. The voice of Carol in Where the Wild Things Are.

He didn’t decide these roles to show audiences he was more than just Tony Soprano; he didn’t need to. This scene in the Sopranos shows you he was more than the mobster audiences thought he was. He knew characters so well that their authenticity was never questioned. Whenever my parents saw him on TV, they’d never said “That’s James Gandolfini!” They’d say, “That’s Tony Soprano!”

Combined with a great script from Mystic River writer Dennis Lehane, Gandolfini gives us one last chance to see his gift.

Well that, and showing us one last glimpse of Tony Soprano.

Night Cap.

Night Cap.

2014 FIFA World Cup on ESPN -- Ian Darke Calls a Date

Everyone, including the color commentators, are trying to get into a good run of form come World Cup time. 


Grand Budapest Hotel / Bound 2


Grand Budapest Hotel / Bound 2



It’s been some time since I last shared some prose. I hope you enjoy it.

I’ve never been fond of a specific season.

If I had to choose, 

Winter because of its bare branches and grey sky. The melancholy begs me to write.

Summer, the heat deadens the once lush Spring flora. The humidity tightening its stranglehold on your lungs.

Fall, the foliage turns the fried landscape into beautiful Matisse colorways. The crunch on the ground, leaves become brittle bone. The colors soon giving way to a mundane putty.

Spring turns the cold air into a refreshing breath. Vibrant rebirth and muted pastels, reminiscent of Easter dresses at mass when I was young. The pew a rigid cot for an hour.

There’s a time amongst each season - typically between Summer and Fall, Winter and Spring - that an anomaly occurs.

The air becomes crisp, like a June morning in the mountains. The breeze through the window, saying hello like an old friend you haven’t seen for years. Consciousness turns to clarity in those moments. 

I’ve never been high on seasons. 

Just the anomalies.


Watch: Mark Ruffalo and Keira Knightley Make Beautiful Music in 'Begin Again' Trailer

A film without music is like playing basketball without a net on the hoop.

Music enhances the experience of film.

It’s great to see these films that intertwine music beyond the score. It becomes a character, with its own personalities, quirks, idiosyncrasies.

'Begin Again' is from John Carney, the writer and director of 'Once,' and once again (terrible pun, I know) gives credence to the indie musical genre. 




Rob Ford photo impressions are where it’s at.


"I loved you so much once. I did. More than anything in the whole wide world. Imagine that. What a laugh that is now. Can you believe it? We were so intimate once upon a time I can’t believe it now. The memory of being that intimate with somebody. We were so intimate I could puke. I can’t imagine ever being that intimate with somebody else. I haven’t been."

Raymond Carver, “Intimacy” (via larmoyante)

Starting digging into Raymond Carver more recently. He writes with a conversational hand; simple and succinct. An everyday man’s writing.