Brace yourself! Winter is Coming!

The werewolf has been eagerly awaiting the release of HBO's latest foray into incredible television programming via A Game of Thrones.  The first book of George R. R. Martin's epic fantasy series, A Song of Ice and Fire, seems to be getting the treatment and attention it deserves to be translated onto the television screen.

For those of you who have no idea about what I am writing, take a second and consider this. If you enjoy Tolkien, try mixing in a few measures of wild sex, brutal violence, dynastic struggle, and unpredictable Machiavellian political scheming into the fray, and one begins to touch on the brilliance that is George R. R. Martin. The world Martin imagined is loosely inspired by Ivanhoe and the events surrounding the War of the Roses in late medieval England. One easily gets sucked into the details of a world where the heroes are naive, honor and virtue are more devastating than a rancid STD, grudges last generations, some villains merit redemption, while others shock you with inhuman levels of treachery, bastards beget bastards, and death is the most likely outcome from even the most casual or celebratory of occasions. There are no white wizards or hobbits to save the day, but there is a world that drives one's imagination to its limits. If HBO's previous series such as The Sopranos, Rome, True Blood, and Boardwalk Empire are any indication of what to expect, then audiences are in for a thrilling treat.

Being a stalwart fan of the books, I am both awaiting to embrace this series with alacrity and am slightly apprehensive. Martin does such a brilliant job of creating the foundations of world rich in its own history, that I have woven a detailed tapestry in my mind of what I think the characters and realm look, smell, and sound like. Peoples, architecture, traditions, language, mannerisms, style, and topography are all touched on in just the right ways to provoke an indelible impression. The images I have emblazoned into my imagination with the wondrous world I perceive each time I turn the pages of one his books is truly a literary gift. The tension of what I perceive and how the world will be rendered via HBO's creative interpretation is an interesting one that I am unaccustomed to experiencing. However, it does nothing to dampen my excitement about the pending release of the series.

Winter is coming!

Dodge Challenger Ad: Cars and Freedom

Setting aside the fact that Chrysler has become a total joke of a car company and the American automotive industry is in shambles thanks to shortsighted management and gluttonous unions, this television spot qualifies as awesome.

Jack is back: 24's 8th season launched

It was during college that werewolf was sucked into 24. Season 3 was his point of entry back in the day. Although each season requires further suspension of an already exhausted disbelief, the werewolf obediently complies and gets ready for the whatever new ridiculous thrill ride the writers at Fox have in store for him. The show centers around the trials and tribulations of counter-terrorist bad-ass and modern day Captain America, Jack Bauer. Given the status of that name in pop-culture, it needs no introduction.

So much has happened over the last seven seasons, including African frogmen seizing the White House, Southern California getting nuked twice, Jack shooting his boss, Jack coming back from the dead multiple times, renegade Air Force officers shooting down Air Force One, Jack shooting his good friend, Jack being a heroine addict, Jack killing his brother and father...all too much to process properly looking back on it. Did I mention that African frogmen seized the White House at one point? Yes, the show is beyond ridiculous, and this season doesn't seem any less so...

The first two hours of season 8 have had Jack come out of retirement and embed an axe in a bad guy's chest; introduced us to an evil one man Russian army, who works as NYC cop by day; a reform oriented Iranian president, too good to be true, and his duplicitous brother; the return of Hillary Clinton as President of the USA; the requisite self-promoting and immoral counter-terror chief who will doubt and thwart Jack, despite the fact that Jack is never wrong; plus the the large chested blond chick who wears a cocktail dress to work as government functionary at the counter intelligence office. Yes, it sounds like several other seasons of 24. Older, wiser, and harder to impress, the werewolf is buckling up for another season of 24. That's the best he can do in exile.

Hollywood plans to murder another part of my childhood. "A-Team Intro"

Let's be perfectly honest with ourselves. With a few modern exceptions, the 1980's was the height of syndicated television. The American viewing public was blessed with television shows like MacGuyver, Airwolf, The Equalizer, Murder She Wrote, Miami Vice, Magnum P.I., and the Dukes of Hazard. It was also supported by early morning cartoons like Transformers, Thundercats, and G.I. Joe. It was the perfect time to grow up in these United States.

The A-Team, in particular, is a strong testament to television of yore. Every time he watches the original intro to the A-Team, the werewolf's blackened heart lifts slightly with a few beats of joy. During the late 1980's and early 1990's, the good folks at channel 5 in Los Angeles had syndicated reruns of the the A-Team at 3pm, right when a young werewolf got home from his episcopal elementary school. After bolting to the kitchen to get a Capri-sun or Fruit Roll Up treat, the werewolf would plant himself in front of the television and watch the A-Team. It was the perfect reward for surviving another day of elementary school. Even as a young boy, the werewolf noticed that every episode of the A-Team had the exact same plot. The team has a close encounter with the military police, whom they evade, they then either go to a rough part of downtown L.A., or some boring suburb to find out that some honest small-time family oriented entrepreneur, or community do-gooder is being harassed and shaken down by some nefarious criminal element. After sizing up the bad guys, the team goes to a junk yard, and builds some sort of super arsenal from a discarded Chevy Caprice hulk, a gas pump, some spare parts, and and proceeds to have a battle where they spectacularly route the bad guys in question. Epic in its consistency. Added bonuses included the A-Team's ring leader, Hannibal Smith, incorporating at least three cool disguises, smoking a cigar, and exclaiming "I love it when a plan comes together!", followed by the business development guy, Templeton "Faceman" Peck, always getting the girl. The team's pilot and resident maladjusted weirdo, "Howling Mad" Murdoch, would talk to himself, dress in drag, and creep the hell out of the the team's muscle, mechanic, and token black guy, "B.A" Baracus, (played perfectly by MR. T), whom would frequently tell Murdoch to "Shut up, Foo!" and bust through a wall. It was the perfect formula to guide an eight year old through his weekly afternoon siesta. Being a native of Los Angeles, the werewolf loves the retro shot of the 1980's L.A. skyline in the opening credits, and still finds the 67lbs of gold jewelry that B.A. Baracus allegedly wore through the jungles of Vietnam to be a great source of comic relief.

However, much to the eternal horror of the werewolf, he recently learned that in a fit of uncreative idiocy and desperation, the bozos in Hollywood will be releasing an A-Team movie this summer. Check it here. It's one thing to revive classic movie franchises like Star Trek and James Bond, both which Hollywood has done with some success lately. However, poaching hyper-formulaic syndicated television shows for the big screen is a sign of massive decline. First of all, by it's very nature, there really isn't enough content for more than about 37 minutes of A-Team execution time. That's what made it so beautiful. It was a one-hour date with little boy escapism. Secondly, certain personas just can't be replicated. Taking some mean looking burly black guy, giving him a mohawk, 67lbs of gold jewelry, and some bad attitude doesn't make him Mr. T. Mr. T is the god-father of bling himself, which the rappers shamelessly co-opted, plus he is an established icon, he is the D-rated minority version of John Wayne. Still, he is a class unto himself. Beyond that, as much as the werewolf loves Liam Neeson, he is no George Peppard. George Peppard is a one-of-a-kind B-rated debonair gentleman , whose sunset acting career cruise as Hannibal Smith is a legacy best left untouched. Like most shows of the 1980's, the A-Team was a product of carefree justice meets nifty urban action in an era where political correctness was still dormant on daytime television. It was okay to be a roguish "soldier of fortune" with a case of AK-47's in your trunk looking for a fight. That just doesn't fly in this day and age. Sadly.

The werewolf's final point is looking at what happened to G.I. Joe. His favorite cartoon as a little boy, G.I. Joe, was transmogrified from the ultimate patriotic childhood 1980's cartoon to quite possibly the worst film ever made. It went from being a neat collection of American and international bad-asses, fighting terrorism, each with their own distinct skills and hyper-individuality, to the unwatchable cinematic abortion of globalist vapidity and boring special effects conformity. It was clearly written by a lobotomized orangutan looking for a rotten banana. Watching G.I. Joe's cinematic interpretation last summer was akin to watching my childhood home get napalmed. A part of me died in the cinematic blaze. I fear Hollywood doesn't know when to quit, especially when it is far behind, and will proceed with Hannibal Lector like efficiency to dispatch everything I hold dear from my childhood, one item at time. Nothing is sacred in this day and age.