Harvey Dent’s Watchful Guardian… Yet Two-Face Still Rises

This is not my long awaited geek-tastic anaylsis of Harvey Dent (likely to be titled “Decent Men In An Indecent Time”) that I have promised (that will appear on Breaking Geek anyways…), but rather a continuation of my using Harvey Dent and Two-Face as a metaphor to chart my progress with my addictions, including sleeping and spending money.

After Thursday night’s post, I was ready to go full Two-Face, sleeping until work at 3pm, keeping myself from achieving my full potential, just as Harvey Dent was corrupted by the monster inside: transformed from a symbol of hope into a cop-murdering lunatic (not quite on the same level, but where is a geek without comparing his mundane life to comics and movies?).

Yet, there was a watchful guardian who got my day on the right track. My own white knight (who I assume is less easy to corrupt than Gotham’s).

My best buddy Andrew arrived noonish to pick up applications from an open house I looked at. Planning on giving him the apps and returning to my slumber post haste, I didn’t even put on a shirt, exposing my pale Gollum/Schindler’s List bod.

But my white knight had my best interest in mind, he had just read “Ripe For Inception” and stuck around just long enough for me to wake up completely and not return to bed.

Today, I was similarly lucky. Though I left my phone (aka alarm clock) down stairs in my Captain America jacket pocket, my father awoke me at 12:30, which when compiled with my 4am bedtime, made for the closer-to-8-hours of sleep my body needs (as opposed to the 16 I usually give it).

Regrettably, he woke me so we could go to the Tattered Cover, and we all know what happens when I go to the store (I buy frivolous shit).

I only bought a mother’s day present… plus three books for me… “Avengers: The Origin,”Pawnee, The Greatest Town In America” (behind Aurora), and “How To Archer: The Ultimate Guide to Espionage and Style and Women and Also Cocktails Ever Written” by Sterling Archer.

Hence, my Two-Face day. Like a good Harvey Dent, I slept less than 9 hours, worked out, and read my new anxiety book (the reason for the trip to the Tattered Cover)… but the monster inside lead me to buy 3 books (to be fair, two were by my favorite fictional authors, Leslie Knope and Sterling Archer).

In having a mostly Harvey Dent day, I finally completed my 30 Days of healthy behavior (sleep less than 10 hours, exercise, read anxiety book), earning me my shield!

Well, the original agreement was that my parent’s would bribe me to “be an adult” with a plastic Captain America replica of his movie shield, but when the Broncos aquired the greatest quarterback in the history of the NFL and TV commercials, I instead decided I wanted a Peyton Manning jersey.

Don’t worry, Two-Face and I already bought the shield a month ago from Mile High Comics.

Me with my jacket (Christmas gift), Shield (month old purchase), and Captain America mask (this week purchase). I may have finally crossed the line between geek and crazy obsessive.

So, off to Sports Authority we went, and my Peyton Manning jersey was secured, in all its orange glory. Only a hundred clams… brought to you by my lovely parents.

It’s tragic that this trip required walking through a Barnes and Noble, where again Two-Face reared his ugly head. While looking for a book on dealing with the loss of a pet (another reccomendation of my psychiatrist, just like the anxiety book), I found B&N’s Avengers table.

Big mistake.

This time I only bought one book (because the other graphic novel on the table was the very same “Avengers: The Origin” I bought at Tattered Cover), Marvel’s “Civil War,” the last great event in the Marvel Universe preceding the current “AvX.”

I almost bought a Captain America bobble-head as well, but Harvey Dent prevailed.

The experience has brought me to the following conclusion; in order to not spend money I need to stay out of stores… and off Amazon… and Ebay… really, any website that sells anything from porn to digital music (Did I mention Two-Face preordered the new Tenacious D album on iTunes this week?)

So, that sums up my last two days, one a total Harvey Dent, and the other more Harvey with a big ole’ pinch of acid face.

While I’ve got you here, I’d love to bitch about the impending Avengers movie. At AMC (where I work), we just got two new songs added to our CD that repeats every ten or so minutes. Both songs are from The Avengers soundtrack, Avengers Assemble.

Too bad both songs are shit. Especially “Live to Rise” by Soundgarden. Terrible theme for what will hopefully be a better movie.

They would have been better off with the theme from the Disney XD show, Avengers: Earth’s Mightiest Heroes.

And that’s all I have for tonight. Thanks for listenin’ doc.

Ripe For Inception

I sleep.

That is what I do most in my free time.


You don’t need to get me on a flight from Australia to Los Angeles, you can come right into my room, anytime between midnight and 4pm and just incept the hell out of me. You know,  just incept me for hours, going deeper and deeper (dream levels) while I toss and turn.

I lack the motivation to do anything else. So I sleep.

I set my alarm. I always set it for 8 hours sleep.

So, if I go to bed at 4am, with then intention of waking up at noon (the most consistent sleep schedule  I can manage working at a movie theater), I’ll set my alarm for noon. Noon rolls around, let’s move it to 1pm. 1pm hits, push that sucka back to 2, bitch! 2 comes and goes, then 3, then 4 hits and I have to get up.

Because I work at 5pm.

I don’t even leave myself time to eat, which is partially why I’m my skinniest since high school, when I played water polo and swam on the swim team. Average day, I eat a TV Dinner at work, after working on an empty stomach for 4 to 6 hours.

Not completely empty mind you. I drink just enough Icee and/or Cherry Coke to keep my motor running.

It’s become a real problem. A real addiction, just as severe as my need to spend money, if not more-so.

I have other things I want to do.

There are movies and TV to be watched, piles of comics to be read, drawings to be drawn, skits to be written and shot, podcasts to be podded… the list of my aspirations goes on and on, but when I’m in bed, none of that matters.

All that matters is pushing back the time I need to wake up back another hour.

I’m not even tired half the time. This morning, my body was ready to get up at 9. But I stayed in bed, attempting to force sleep upon myself until 2:40 when my father wrangled me out of bed. He said, “Nick, time to get up” and though I was very drowsy and could not know for sure, I think I let out an inhuman moan, a sound akin to one Gollum would produce, them slowly rose from my bed.

Come to think of it, if I were to start losing my hair (surely, an eventual side effect of constant icee consumption), I’d look quite a bit like Gollum with my pale skin and scrawny arms.

Sleep is my ring. My obesseion that seems to suck the very life out of me, reducing me to an underfed, shadow of a man.

My…. precious….

At this point, I might as well lose most my hair. At least then I could move back to LA and play Gollum on Hollywood Blvd for a living.

Just gotta stop brushing my teeth too, which won’t be a challenge at all. I’ve never liked doing it anyway.

I’ve tried to pull myself out of this “life wasting cycle,” but as much hope and faith as current-Nick has in next-morning-Nick, next-morning-Nick never fails to disappoint.

I read somewhere that we all put more hope and faith into our future selves. How many times have you told yourself you’d quit a bad habit… tomorrow? Or start that diet tomorrow? Or start lifting weights, tomorrow? That’s my life in a nutshell, making myself promises I never fulfill.

I’ve lost track the amount of times I’ve given future-Nick too much credit. As it turns out, he’s just as lazy a prick as current-Nick.

I even tried to put my latest obsession to use in rousing tomorrow-Nick from bed. I’ve tried to make Harvey Dent work for me.

Last night, I made this sign and put it on the ceiling above my bed… a little something to drive me to wake up and make use of my day.

The whole idea is that everyday I have a choice, just like Harvey Dent did. Do I choose to be the White Knight, to wake up at a reasonable hour, not spend money I don’t need to spend, and use my day productively? Or do I become the monster I’m also capable of being, sleeping away my life and blowing my savings on more shit I’ll never use?

I don’t want to say making said sign was a complete waste of time, but I will say I had a Two-Face of a day, today. I may not have spent any money, but I spent all my free time sleeping, Harvey Dent or no.

I even bought the pictured coin set, to help remind me to choose to be Dent, not Two-Face.

Really, it was just one of my bad habits justifying another.

So, it’s now 4:15, and my alarm is set for noon.

Which means, I guess I’ll wake up at 2pm tomorrow, but only because I work at 3.

Being a monster is just so much easier.

I might as well have the opposite of Dent’s coin, both sides charred, blackened by the fire that killed his love and made him a monster. Just as he makes his own luck in the film with his double “heads” coin, I know exactly what side of the coin tomorrow will be.

Dent may make his own luck, but I ensure my own self destruction.

And future-Nick doesn’t give a fuck.

This Is Ground Control To Cyber Cat

Dear Kitt,

I wish I could believe that you were still out there somewhere, but I’ve been to your grave multiple times a day for months now, and I’ve scoured the interwebs looking for any sign of a possible cyber-cat ghosts. You’re dead.

As I sit here watching The Dark Knight, it should be you on my chest, not this cold laptop.

The flip of Harvey Dent’s coin and the gruff of Batman’s voice distract me, but only temporarily. Work, video-games, comics, giant toy shields, Driver jackets, all but a distraction from the pain I feel every time I look out your window, see a movement out of the corner of my eye, or catch a wiff of tuna (Reminds me of your terrible breath. We both need to brush more.)

Last night, I swear I felt the weight of your body on the covers when I rolled over. Was sure you were there, nipping at my toes, which is what they deserved for hiding under the blanket from you, like that. Bastard toes. Joy filled my heart, if only for not-even-a-second.

I don’t know what that weight was, perhaps a clean shirt folded on the corner of my bed, or some half-read graphic novel. But it wasn’t you.

It’s never you.

It’s never going to be you.

Honestly, I thought I’d be past you by now. But, no dice.

God, Maggie Gyllehaal is even worse as Rachel Dawes than Katie Holmes, somehow.

So I keep the distractions coming.

Maybe someday I’ll find the right one.

Damn, Jordan’s right, the Heath Ledger’s Joker does lick his lips way too often. It’s more distracting than anything if you look for it.

A comfortable distraction.

I like when movies deal with death. Like this scene, where Dent thinks he is going to die and that Rachel will be saved. The moment he realizes his was picked (albeit accidentally) to be saved by Batman,  is pure cinema bliss. Raw emotion on the screen.

Which is where I prefer it.

Death isn’t some great finale. We all make quite a bit of a fuss entering this world, it’s unfortunate that most of us exit with such a whimper.

No buddy cop explosion. No melodramatic fall from grace. Just you, going limp in my arms, already 1/3 your size from the year before.

The always watchful Kitt, watches no more.

No ear flick or slight eyelid movement to indicate that you are not so secretly keeping tabs on all of us. Because though you trust me, your instinct is still there.

A most correct instinct.

The most peaceful I’ve ever seen you, while in life, was on my stomach. I actually think you really fell asleep once, not just a catnap. You were out, cold. Purring, but so oblivious to your surroundings that I bet your arch-nemsis neighbor cat could have even snuck up on you (not that I would have let him. He was a ripe bastard, that one).

I betrayed that trust, and it is really the moment of your death that haunts me more than anything else. Sure I fed you, scooped your poop, and gave you more attention than most thought a cat deserved, but the only real agreement we had was that we wouldn’t hurt  .

You trusted me when you slept. Just as I trusted you would not actually harm my blanket covered toes. You’d be playful, but never break the skin. If there is such thing as unconditional love, we shared it. Obviously, not a physical or romantic love, because I’m into human females… who are usually less hairy than you, but a certain type of love that I’ve never quite understood and I can’t quite define.

I remember feeling 3 years old when I pulled your body out of that kennel and wrapped in your real favorite person’s old towel. Holding you there, on my lap, on the new sandstone Dad installed in the backyard, the sun warming your body just the way you liked it before mom and dad installed the glass patio door that soaked up all the extra heat.

I’ve never felt like less of an adult.

I’d trade it all.

Trade all my blurays, all my posters, all my possessions for an hour with you in the sun. Just the two of us, not having anywhere better to be, not having anything to do but just lay there, stealing  each other’s warmth and being rocked to sleep by each others’ heavy, sleepy breath.

I don’t even want to say what I’d do to have those five years back where I left you for my CA adventure.

Let’s just say, if anyone has a time machine or can resurrect you (Jesus/Oliver Tate style, not at all like Pet Cemetery or Frankenweenie), and that one person happened to enjoy any sort of sexual favors — you know, blowies, handies, the dutch-rudder, whatever — I’d grin and bear it. I’d take a chubby for the team. I will suck it up.

Like I said, I’m into “human females,” but I would do anything for you, Kitt… including that. Meat Loaf is a pussy.

Someday I will join you in nothingness. We can “not exist” together, but let’s face it, we’d be just a productive dead as when we were together.

I might be lazy, but you were the laziest mother fucker I ever knew. A standard for which all lazy people can aspire to be, but never reach.

I miss you, cyber cat.


Over Coming My Obsession To Obsess

I have a problem.

The first part is admitting it, right?

I can’t help obsessing over something to a point of nearly driving myself insane.

I touched on that yesterday, when I discussed being addicted to movie news. But really, that’s only the tip of the iceberg, an iceberg that threatens to sink the ship of my life. (Unlike the Titanic, I never claimed I was unsinkable.)

I can’t exactly place my obsession. I used to think it was a need to buy things, as I have bought many DVDs and Blurays I have yet to unwrap, many videogames I’ve played once… for 10 minutes… and I’m six months behind on most my comic subscriptions.

I’ve been seeing a psychiatrist since last August, for seemingly unrelated reasons involving anxiety and depression. The whole process has made me more aware of my actions and behaviors, which for a hypochondriac like me has both been beneficial and overblown.

At this point, I think my obsession has more in common with hoarding than enjoying the act of spending money.

I’ve never watched Hoarders, but I have listened to Jay Mohr’s podcast, Mohr Stories, on which he has twice had the host/creator of the Hoarders Mat Paxton as a guest. Paxton talks about Hoarders as often keeping the most disgusting stuff, stuff that is complete trash to the common man, so they have it when someone needs it.

Oh, you need a dirty q-tip? I got that for you, ma’am! You need a diaper filled with poop? Got that too! I have several in fact. You want baby green or classic brown?

Now, I may not crap into plastic bags and pile them up in my closet (I still wouldn’t recommend looking in there, mother), but I absolutely cannot help myself when it comes to items like movies, video-games, and comics.

At work,I’ll take shit from movies I haven’t seen or movies I don’t particularly like, just because I may have a use for it some day (I’m not even allowed to sell them on ebay).

Have I seen Friends With Kids? Fuck no, but I kept the poster AND the banner because it has several actors I like on it (Jon Hamm, Kristen Wiig, Adam Scott, Maya Rudolph, and the very underrated Chris O’Dowd – that Irish fellow from Bridesmaids).

I also have the standee AND banner for This Means War, a movie that’s not even that good, but because I like Chris Pine and Tom Hardy as actors.

If a new poster or standee arrives in receiving, I’ll request it immediately, even when the movie holds little interest. Today, I requested the Total Recall poster, even though I disliked the trailer, just because Bryan Cranston is in the film (he’s not even on the poster).

It is a fairly cool poster, but what am I going to do with it? And what am I going to do with the 5 copies of the Ghost Protocol poster I have (at least)? Or my Grey poster and standee? Or the parts of the Tinker Tailor Soldier Spy standee I kept. All that shit is just sitting in my poor parents garage.

What am I going to do with the unopened blu-rays of Due Date, The Hangover Part II, The Girl With The Dragon Tattoo, Che, Donnie Brasco, A Few Good Men, In the Line of Fire, etc, etc, etc and on and on and on? (I haven’t even seen half those movies…)

The closest I can tell, I have them all for the same reason that a Hoarder keeps a dirty Q-Tip. One night, we’ll all be stuck in my house, the world ending around us, and we’ll have just enough battery power on my laptop to watch a single movie before we meet our end.

Someone will say, “Damn, I wish I could watch There Will Be Blood one last time before I die.”

And I’d say, “There’s not enough battery power for a film that long, but I do own that movie, on Bluray, even though I never have any intention of watching it! Oh what a lovely apocalypse tonight will be”

This obsession with possession is the worst at work. As touched upon, I try to claim everything from every movie that has potential to be good. I’ve claimed items from The Avengers to Prometheus to The Dictator to Iron Man 3 and Avengers 2.

I tried to claim everything Avengers, all the standees, posters, banners, IMAX posters, etc. I had to relinquish possession of some of them so that other employees who deserve them can have them. Do I really need the Captain America Standee, Avengers Banner, and IMAX poster?

No, but it bugs the shit out of me that someone else is getting the IMAX poster.

I can literally feel myself losing my grasp on sanity at times, when I get wild bouts of anxiety over whether or not I was first to claim The Amazing Spider-Man banner. And I’m on Xanex already for fuck’s sake!

The same anxiety plagues me when a movie comes out that I want to see. I nearly went crazy passing by theaters and hearing the sweet sounds of the scores from Mission: Impossible – Ghost Protocol or Sherlock Holmes: A Game of Shadows. Until I saw them, I became agitated that I hadn’t yet, even though I knew I had plenty of time to see them over the month of December.

I wish I could just let go. Quiet my mind whenever that endless want to possess more shit rears its ugly head.

I tried some breathing exercises at work today after I looked at the Avengers IMAX poster,  but no sooner had I dismissed one obsession than another raised its ugly head to take its place (kind of like Hydra; “Shoot down one plane and hundreds more will rain fire upon them. If they cut off one head, two more shall take its place. Hail Hydra!”).

Like I wrote yesterday, this obsession can be an absolute need to know all I can about something, or the need to share my opinion online (the later plagues a bunch of people and is a direct result of social media).

I understand why there are a million Trolls out there on forums, tearing down those who create, for no reason more than to be contrary. I used to have to express my opinion on Joblo; write about why Avatar was going to suck, or defend Spider-Man 3 and Indy 4 from fanboy backlash.

I know none of it is important, but in the moment it all feels like life or death to me.

Like earlier today, I was dead set on writing the following on FBook, just cause: “Dear Idiots, thank you for paying 14.50 to see a movie you already own. Love, James Cameron.” Though I haven’t written it yet (except for here. Sorry about that whammie, Titanic fans), sometimes the mood strikes and I can’t prevent myself from going online and tearing down something other people love, like Twilight or Hunger Games, or just giving my opinion in general about whatever. Like, “Hey I saw Drive before all of you, and it’s awesome! Go see it in a month when it’s released.”

It’s so bad that I sit in the movie theater, while I am watching the movie, already concentrating on what I will say about the movie online afterwards.

Everyone doesn’t need to know what I think about everything. I don’t need to buy every movie I “may want to watch someday. (I realize how ironic it is to say on a blog completely about myself.)

I have a completion complex. I blew $40 dollars last week on South Park Season Fifteen, simply because I own the other complete 14. I mean, it’s a rocking season, but it’s all available for free on www.southparkstudios.com. I’ve repurchased not just Blu-Ray copies of my DVDs, but also special editions of Blu-rays I already own.

Several months ago, after getting my Captain America hoodie (one of the few possessions I use daily), I decided I needed to have a Capt. shield as well. I put it off for months, but this week I finally cracked and bought it. I also ordered a replica of Driver’s jacket from Drive that cost over a hundred dollars. I bought $200 worth of podcasting equipment that is gathering dust. My parents bought me an HD camcorder two years ago and I have yet to shoot one skit.

My name is Nick Doll and I have a problem. I spend all the money I have, and money I don’t have, on shit I may never use.

I obsess over stuff I have no control of, or has no value to be known.

I need help. But on the other hand, I also need to understand why I am this way.

Is it backlash from my parents limiting my spending to my allowance as a kid? Am I filling some other void in my life (lack of a girlfriend, maybe)? Do I collect just to show off? (I did take a photograph and catalog all my comic books yesterday so people can see what I own online.) Is it related to some childhood “trauma” like the time I was heartbroken that we didn’t get out of the rockies in time to see my cooler older male cousin who I idolized, only to receive a new Darkwing Duck VHS from my grandma? Was it seeing my late Water Polo coach’s collection, amazed by its sized, and content when later on a bus ride to Utah he saw my binder of DVDs and said “not a bad start?”

Or was it the time I didn’t buy something, never had a chance to again, and regretting it. Cause that’s the thing, I rarely regret buying useless shit, but if I do have the willpower to avoid a Blu-ray that is cheap but I don’t love, that’s when I most feel regret. When I didn’t buy something.

I don’t know why I’m damaged in this way, yet I am thankful to have had a mostly tragedy free life. It could be much worse, I could be collecting sexually transmitted diseases or crack (not that one hoards those two, exactly).

Really, this is just what I like to call a “white people problem.” In this case I have too much bitchin’ stuff and no willpower to resist adding to it.

I don’t like it. I don’t like obsessing over something so unimportant when there is so much else to do in this world. “The things you own ends up owning you.”

I guess the only option I have is to try harder to muster up some willpower when I hit Target or Amazon, try to breathe deep and be calm whenever a new poster that I “must have” rolls in.

I’ve still only touched the surface of the forces and events that are slowly driving me insane. I could write forever, but I do have work tomorrow at noon and it is 5am now.

I’m hoping putting this all in writing will help me better understand myself, why I am self-destructive with spending, why I’ve never had a girlfriend, why I continue to mourn my cat more than any other loss I’ve encountered. That’s the “Dear Diary” aspect this blog will sometimes take, though I won’t always be so boring and self-absorbed.

It may not be a good read for you (let’s be honest, no one read to this point, cause it’s not interesting or amusing to lay one’s worst habits out in front of him.), and for that I apologize, but I need this, it’s like therapy through blogging.

I plan to make funny here in the future, and post my geekier musing on Breaking Geek.

Don’t worry, I still plan an in depth look at Batman Begins, The Dark Knight, and Harvey Dent, but screening those movies twice in 3 days has not yet allowed me to take in all of Nolan’s Bat universe’ suttlties. Each of those columns have potential to be even longer than this one, so it will take a day off to get those out of my system. Let me just give this tease… Batman Begins and Dark Knight are the two best comic book films by about a light year, because of impeccable themes and character development. But more on that later…

Thanks for listening to my condition, doc.

Until next time… waffles.

Spring Cleaning… Of The Brain

I’m free!

I’m finally free from movie news!


I'm like that tiny spec escaping while the damned time traveling Romulans under Eric Bana's command meet their doom.

During college I fell into a hole that many film students get trapped in. It is a black hole from which nothing escapes… except the U.S.S. Enterprise when it jetisons all of its explosives at once in order to blow itself away from said black hole.

The black hole I speak of is the need for all film geeks/students/assistants/wanna-be filmmakers to follow every bit of movie news.

Who was cast in what? Who is on the shortlist to be casted in what? What director just left the project? Did you know they’ve already hired a writer to pen a sequel even though the original  film has yet to be released?

I can get very obsessive, and obsessive I was about movie news whilst misguidedly pursuing a career in Hollywood.

From freshman year at Chapman in 2006 ’til the tail end of 2011, I checked movie news at least five times daily.

The first set pics from Star Trek 2 have leaked? They have a teaser poster for Total Recall now? 

That’s the kind of stuff that got me all hot and bothered, the useless shit I shared with everyone (which included those who don’t care and those who already read the same article from the same site).

FBook has lead us all to believe we have something we need to say or share with the world. (Not at all like blogging about one’s self, which is the least narcissistic activity to preform). I’d read some minor casting update and immediatly jump to FBook to share what I and every other film geek had already found.

I would have to check movie news sites every few minutes, mostly because my desk job at NBC was mind numbingly boring… but also because I had to know EVERYTHING. What movies are on the horizon, what favorite actors like Tom Hardy will be in next, etc.

Then, I went “off the grid” for a few weeks surrounding Christmas back in ’11, cutting myself off from any con-updates, press releases, or those intolerable Nikki Finke “Toldya’s”!

After the initial withdrawal (which I was told was very similiar to withdrawels from drugs like Heroin. Bugs under my skin! Bugs under my skin!), I no longer miss it.

In fact, I’m happier not knowing what I’m missing, not knowing which articles I wish I was sharing with my acquantices on FBook.

Do I need to know a movie is in production years before its release?

Fuck no! It will be all the better the surprise when I see a teaser for Mission: Impossible 5 at work crap my pants with surprise and delight.

ImageThough I lost interest in movie news by Jan, but I’ve been trapped writing news articles for months on a website that I will no longer name, due to a wee bit of bridge burning (though that bridge was already ricketier than the one in Temple Of Doom.)

Now, I can finally remain completely in the dark about what’s to come. 

I no longer care who is writing or directing what with whichever star; all I’m looking for now are good trailers and/or word of mouth.

The only disadvantage to not knowing what’s coming, is that I can’t use my extremely useless movie knowledge to request posters looooong before they come out at the AMC theater where I work.

I already requested posters for movies years away, like Star Trek 2, Captain America 2, and Iron Man 3. Without my movie know how, I won’t be able to request posters for the followup to Skyfall.

Last year I requested Skyfall merch, before anyone at work even knew what that movie was (answer: a Bond movie). 

(And in writing this column, I just realized it may already be time to claim the Arrested Development movie goods… there, now that’s done too.)

These days, I only get on the internet to check e-mail (once every few days) and post random shit that delights me on FBook. And to blog… and to buy shit from Amazon… and to play PS3 with my friend who lives across town.

I’m free of all sorts of news that used to enslave me, whether it be video game news (high school obsession), movie news (college and onward), or comic book news (I would fall into this, but Moulton at my comic book shop gives me a booklet to order from, so no checking the news is required).

ImageWhile I’m on the topic of movies, I also have to point out that now I see less movies that ever. We’re three months in, and I’ve only seen The Grey and 21 Jump Street (which were both excellent choices).

I don’t know if it’s my job, or being in Colorado were there  are less cinephiles, or what, but a movie has to earn my time, even though it is free per my job.

All those movies that were on the bubble before aren’t even on my radar now. Do I like Will Ferrell? Yes. But is Casa De Mi Padre worth my time? I’m betting, no.

Same with Jeff Who Lives At Home. That movie stars two comedians I like and may actually be really good, but I just don’t want to waste 3 hours of my day making a trip to the movies.

I never even saw Star Wars in 3D. And that’s my joint!

ImageI’ll see the essentials like The Avengers, Amazing Spider-Man, Men In Black 3Prometheus, and The Dark Knight Rises multiple times even (saw Ghost Protocol 4 times on IMAX, and A Game of Shadows and The Grey twice),  but I’ll let mostly everything else slip. 

Don’t get me wrong, movies are still my main passion (I did, after all, watch Batman Begins twice and Dark Knight once in the last two days). I just don’t want to make them or see them all. 

As for Begins and Knight, I still plan on eventually writing discussion about the new aspects I brought away from both following my reading of Year One and Long Halloween,as well as what we know about Dark Knight Rises.

Until next time… Carrots!

The TITANIC / JAWS Conspiracy

AMC Theaters handed out these “limited edition” Titanic lithographs tonight for ther special advance screening of James Cameron’s Titanic 3D.

(When I say limited edition, I mean that we still haven’t given all the collectible posters for Mission: Impossible – Ghost Protocol and John Carter.)

About 20 people attended the highly anticipated release of Titanic in 3D. The lithographs they received look like this…

ImageWhich seemed all too familiar to me.

So, my useless brain full of movie information did its thing, producing this…

ImageI went ahead and corrected the lithograph for Paramount…


The mouth may be hard to see, but I don't have a smarty pants phone.

You’re welcome Paramount. Expect a call from Universal’s lawyers.


Oh, and since when does every 3D movie get its own set of 3D glasses?

Titanic is of course along for the ride, with the always arrogant Cameron giving away “collectible” golden 3D glasses.

Pretty slick, right?

They were red for Star Wars, orange for Lorax. And there are 4 different designs coming in May one for each real Avenger (Black Widow and Hawkeye don’t count).

 That’s commerce, Bitch!


Let’s see some Amazing Amazing Spider-Man 3D glasses. I’m thinking a full Spider-Man mask with 3D lenses for eyes.

And why doesn’t Nick Fury get one? Like a 3D Eye Patch?

Just Sayin’

(Though I’d be a liar if I said I don’t NEED at least the Captain America pair.)

Coca-Cola Icees and Tears For Harvey Dent

Today I worked a 14 hour shift.

Wait, let me try that again…

Today I worked a 14 hour shift on nothing but Coca-Cola Icee.

It is not the 1st time I have worked over a 12 hour shift at AMC, which is the amount required to qualify for overtime in Colorado (I miss CA’s 8 hours), but it is the first time I have done any sort of shift running the engines on nothing but Coca-Cola Icee.

Was it a healthy thing to do?

Fuck No! But, rest assured, the man with the job that provides him all the free soda he can drink and $2.00 Tollhouse Chocolate Chip Ice Cream sandwiches (a steal thanks to employee pricing, especially considering this is movie theater food) isn’t particularly healthy anyway.

Before you give that last statement too much thought… back to Coke Icees!

Did you know that a Coca-Cola Icee and a Coca-Cola Slurpee are indiscernible to one out of one Nick Dolls?

Obviously, I realize that both are the same fundamentally… Coca-Cola syrup mixed with tiny-winy-incey-wincey ice particles… but who would of thought they tasted identical?

Not me.

Thanks for letting me in on that secret, rest of the world!

I thought there had to be some difference between the Slurpee and Icee brand, some slightly different ratio of Coke to Ice, but it is not so.

The two taste identical.

Which means I sorta’ have access to all the Coca-Cola Slurpee I want!

Check that off the old high school bucket list.


Nick Doll is skinny Steve Rogers in Craptain America!

…I can also check off poorly replicating a Marvel poster too!

Icee gave me the strength I needed, with Xanex providing the courage, to get through a 14 hour work day on which I built not one, but…

Standee #1

wait for it…

wait for it…

Two Standees!

Standee # 2 aka My Everest

Did I mention the Dark Shadows one took 5 hours? And that I was doing it outside on the first CO day to drop below forty degrees in about two weeks.

My fingers and toes were numb after those 5 hours, but goddamn it all if my Icee was not still cold and delicious.

Thanks, Icee!

Speaking of things that have two-faces (unrelated segway!), how’z’about that Harvey Dent?

I know Dent's face is purple in Long Halloween and Dark Victory... but that doesn't really translate to the big screen. Acid won't turn you purple!

First introduced to me either on the 90s Batman Animated Series and/or Batman Forever (with the hilarious miscasting of Tommy Lee Jones as a half purple Two-Face), I initially saw nothing engaging about the character.

Sure, he has two faces, quite uncommon even in a metropolis like Gotham, but what else makes him special?

The fact that he flips a coin, a la Anton Chigurh (who ironically an antagonist to the former Two-Face, Mr. Lee Jones)? The fact that Joel Schumacher imagined his hideout divided in two, just like his face?

On the surface, Two-Face is just another generic Batman baddie with a supervillain gimmick (in this case, two faces), but Harvey Dent is perhaps the most tragic character in comic book lore, even more tragic than even the Dark Knight.

Acid 2 da' face!

The Dark Knight may as well have been titled The Tragedy of Harvey Dent, as it was nearly his movie more than Bruce Wayne’s: The rise of a young District Attorney, his secret pact made with two Gotham’s two bravest men, and the unstoppable force that corrupted Gotham’s “White Night.”

I didn’t fully appreciate the tragedy of Harvey Dent four years ago when I saw The Dark Knight, second weekend, sold out on Colorado’s only true IMAX screen (which is now also the less impressive Digital IMAX Experience).

Upon reading Batman: The Long Halloween, Dent’s importance as a literary character became quite clear.

Dent is Bruce Wayne without the money… and the restraint.

Hands down, my favorite scene in The Dark Knight is the final meeting of Gotham’s triumvirate of would be heroes; Commissioner Gordon, Batman, and D.A. Harvey Dent. Sure, Heath Ledger had a powerful performance as the Joker, but his lack of a real origin story made him a terrifying force, but not at all sympathetic like Aaron Eckhart’s Dent.

I  still intend to write an in depth piece over at Breaking Geek (it’s not there now) about my fascination and the importance of Mr. Dent, but that post needs time and care, in order to be a thoroughly geeky analysis of comics’ most tragic hero.

Until then…

I believe in Harvey Dent.

Also! For future Nick, my future multitude of descendants,   those who come across my name in a history e-book and proceed to Dondaggle me (Dondaggle is the last know search engine used by mankind to search “the internet”, a very primitive  attempt of the sharing of information, viruses, etc), and my nosy friends from 2012… and beyond!…

Here’s the song that made our day (I’m addressing future Nick now)…

Why Do We Fall, Bruce?

Obviously I have not been writing daily; neither on this blog or any other sort of parchment/social media site/autograph book.

(I did end up writing my favorite movies 0f 2011 piece, however it is only a one blog run that resides on Forces of Geek.)

The whole (non) situation brings me to one of my favorite movie quotes, and possibly the theme of this year’s biggest film.

In Batman Begins, Dr. Thomas Wayne says to his young son, “Why do we fall, Bruce?” Again, this line is repeated later in the film to former Bruce Wayner/current Batman by Alfred, “Why do we fall, sir?” 

The answer?

“So we can learn to pick ourselves up.”

I may have fallen off the blogging horse too many times to count, but I intend to pick myself up just as many times.

As I sit here watching Joe Chill shoot Bruce’s parents (yes, the title of this here blog made me pop in the ole’ Batman Begins bluray while I write), I attempt to pick myself up, while also wondering why the thief who shot Batman’s parents has the name fitting for a cigarette mascot.

The whole situation has also sparked a part of my Batman brain, firing off synapses that have never before been accessed.

Not to go off on a geek tangent or anything (though I totally am), but watching Batman Begins after seeing the two trailers The Dark Knight Rises and reading Batman Year One, The Long Halloween, and Dark Victory, puts the film in a very different light.

First, I may be late on this train of realization, but how perfectly does that minor theme from Begins tie into Dark Knight Rises?

“Why do we fall, Bruce?”

So the Dark Knight can rise again? Save Gotham, possibly sacrificing his life literally, while absolutely sacrificing the life of Bruce Wayne?

Totes magotes.

I do now have two websites going, this one (www.simplypassingthroughhistory.com) and www.breakinggeek.com.

I shall use this blog for more personal postings, a sort of online permanent journal that will be viewed by alien lifeforms thousands of years into the future, long after Warner Bros.’ twenty-fifth reboot of the Batman franchise has driven humankind to extinction.

Meanwhile, at Breaking Geek I’ll dive into geekier subjects, like the continuation of my new analysis of Batman Begins and The Dark Knight based on my new knowledge of the Dark Knight lore and the information present in The Dark Knight Rises trailer.

Sure, the subject of the two blogs will overlap; it’s hard to talk about my life and not also bring geek into it, and vice versa. I won’t be blogging daily, but whenever I have something to say, I will say it, and post it here or there.

So, consider me picked up… until I fall again. At which point I hope to learn to pick myself up yet again. (It’s a vicious cycle.)

Head over to Breaking Geek for my further analysis of Batman Begins and how it ties into what we know about Dark Knight Rises and how director Christopher Nolan’s Batman shares most in common with the Batman from Year One and Long Halloween.

(Editor’s Note : I spent 3 hours writing a geektastic, monster of an analysis… then I accidently closed the window. And it hadn’t autosaved for two hours, so I lost a shit ton of writing and some good ideas I may not be able to recall. Blerg! I will rewrite the post, but not tonight as I’ve already stayed up past my beddie-by time, which makes this all the more frustrating.)

Stay tuned to Simply Passing Through History for future insights into my psyche… or whatever.