The King, a Super-Sized Dose of Disturbing

What to say about the new Burger King commercials? You know, the ones where some man is just going about his business, and then comes face to face with the King. There's a moment of hesitation, as if the man is afraid that the King, never losing his vacant stare, will pull off his rusty, serrated crown and gut our Everyman right then and there. Instead, the King pulls out a silver tray, loaded to bear with Burger King's new breakfast sandwich, which, as far as I can tell, consists of meat, more meat, a little more meat, probably a few hidden pockets of meat packed to the density of a black hole, and the King's silent promise that this is the death you want to choose, not any of the others he may hold behind his regal dress. Because, believe me, those empty plastic eyes hold Hells far worse than slow expiration by fat and calories.

But what else is going on in these commercials? Several feature a wife, girlfriend, or spouse moving around in the background (or out of the picture completely), completely unaware of the crucial choice her man faces. Can only men see the King? Does he exist like some Tyler Durden character straight out of <I>Fight Club</i>, there to offer men re-entry into the violent world of breakfast they thought they'd left behind when they started getting cholesterol screenings, gym memberships, and the specter of a prostate exam tick-tocking loudly in the distance? Does a later scene find our hero, stained with bacon grease, being taken to task for acting like an immortal sixteen-year-old? Heck if I know. Heck if any of these men know. For to stare the King in the eye is to dance with the Devil; to wake from the long sleep of domesticity; to see wisps of your soul wafting into the air from a breakfast sandwich, threatening to be lost forever if you don't get to eating.

That said, I need to lose about forty pounds to get back to my fightin' weight, so you won't see me eating one. :)

Mild Brushes with Nature

The missus and I live on about four acres of mostly wooded land, surrounded by other wooded tracts in the six- to seventeen-acre range. To the left are some neighbors (who we've never met) who are growing vast amounts of tropical plants in a greenhouse. To the right are some neighbors (who we've never met) who are growing a vast graveyard of dead cars and trucks. Across the road are 17 acres growing a fine blanket of kudzu (guess what my project next summer and fall will be?)

Before the last couple of weeks, I would have sworn that all the woods around us were empty of wildlife. We grew a garden all summer with no real trouble from varmints, and we never came across any evidence of critters. Lately, though, it seems like every one of god's creatures is converging on our cat's food. Open the door one night, and there's a possum staring at you. Open it another night, and it's one of several neighborhood cats. Open it tonight, one of the largest raccoons I've ever seen. Our cats? Nowhere to be seen, since they're both neurotic wimps.

We've also had some deer coming up into the yard, feeding on the the remains of the summer garden and even bounding across the driveway in front of us this morning. It's really cool, although I know that if deer are in my yard or the surrounding land, it's because they've been further driven from deep woods or pasture that are becoming a faceless subdivision. Haven't seen any bucks yet, just some does and what look to be youngsters starting to put on some size. So we have deer, which is really cool.

Admittedly, there's a part of me that wishes I knew how to hunt and dress one of them, since I'm convinced that will be a pretty handy skill ten or fifteen years from now. But in the absence of solid hunter/gatherer skills, I'm just glad they're around (although fencing may need to be added to the shopping list for next summer'sgarden). The raccoons, possums, and cats, we don't know what we'll do. We're not the type to set out deadly traps, so for now we'll probably just move the food from the back porch to the barn, and just make sure to get the cats rounded up at mealtime so they can get their fill. At least that way, we can get rid of the midnight back porch surprises. Besides, the orange tabby's proven himself to be a pretty good mouser, and while he currently doesn't eat his kills, I'm sure he could figure it out if he needed to.

10/05/2005 -- 2:12 a.m.

The missus and I caught Serenity tonight. Being fans of Firefly, we were pretty psyched, but we were still really impressed with how good it was. Good humor, good characters, and some really tense action sequences. Highly recommended, whether you've seen Firefly or not. Some things I really liked:

• How economical the film was in introducing the characters -- really nothing more than a scramble from the front of the ship to the back, with dialogue along the way. I've recently been making the argument that films like Serenity, with established fan bases, should come in two versions: one with all the introduction for the newbies, and one without for those of us who know the characters already. But having seen Whedon do such a good job introducing his characters so quickly and enjoyably, now I'm just going to say that other filmmakers should do their job better.
• The Reavers. Whedon has created an impressive rogues' gallery of evil adversaries via Buffy and Angel, but Serenity's Reavers go right near the top of the list. Whedon uses them sparingly, mostly as an impending threat, but there's an especially chilling scene where Mal and co. are guiding Serenity through a cluster of Reaver ships that are adorned with the skeletons and corpses, and through the static of open channels, you can hear the screaming of the Reavers' victims. Chilling.
• One of the most gorgeous moments of violence I've seen on film. I'm usually unimpressed with Whedon's action sequences, but there's a fight scene involving River that is just pure, brutal poetry. River kicking ass, all cold calculation as her attackers whirl about her with bloodlust and fury. It reminded me of the Showdown at the House of Blue Leaves from Kill Bill, Vol. 1, where The Bride takes on the Crazy 88s, only Whedon's action sequence, brief though it is, flows better.
• I'm a sucker for last stands, and Serenity has a fine, fine one. You watch it, not able to take anything for granted, because Whedon's proven over the years that he's not afraid to do things that surprise you, that work against your expectations for well-known or major characters. I admit to tearing up a bit, but I can't remember the last final stand scene that didn't have that effect on me. Geez, you should see me when watch the Ride of the Rohirrim sequence from The Return of the King.

(c) 2005 Sweet Tea Prohibition