SALT LAKE CITY, UTAH — In last night’s VP Debate, you saw Vice President Mike Pence square off against California Senator Kamala Harris. You may have also seen me, the six-legged fellow gallivanting around Pence’s forehead. Hi! My name’s Duncan, I’m a fly, and I’m eager to tell you a little about myself and my take on this whole crazy election.
Keep reading!Guys, it’s been a minute, and we’ve got so much to catch up on, but first up: some overwrought reflection on my favorite game of 2020, and possibly ever, ‘The Last of Us, Pt. II’. We are FULL SPOILERS from here on in, so if 1) you haven’t completed the game (and plan to) or 2) just have no interest, at all, now’s your cue to go fire up HBO’s ‘The Vow’ instead. This essay will probably be just as long and meandering!
If you’re still reading, then you’re already well-versed in the plot of ‘The Last of Us, Pt. II’. But this is my first blog post in a while, and daddy wants to stretch his prosaic muscles, so–
FIVE YEARS after the events of the first game (‘Pt. I,’ retroactively), smuggler/killer/guitarist/dad Joel is beaten to death by a ski-capped stranger. Joel’s surrogate daughter Ellie, utterly broken, sets off on a Roaring Rampage of Revenge through Seattle. When she reaches the apex of that revenge… the game’s perspective shifts, and suddenly you’re playing as Abby, aka the ski-capped monster you’ve been trying to kill, now navigating her OWN story of trauma and vengeance. WTF?! Up is down, down is up, until 20+ hours later when you finally confront each other on a beach in Santa Barbara, battle to the death… and then each stumble away — Abby to Catalina Island, Ellie to Jackson, Wyoming, both of you to a future finally unshackled from this endless cycle of blood.
(The game’s a friggin’ laugh riot, is what I’m trying to say!)
‘LoU II’ is many things — a zombie survival game, a stealth shooter, a playable movie — but above all, it’s this: a study of people dealing with tremendous pain, hollowed out by hate, who slowly (really slowly) find the courage and grace to let it go. I don’t see any kind of metaphor for 2020 in there, no way, you’re crazy.
Keep Reading!
If you’re anything like us — overworked, overtired, just plain *over it* — then you’ve wondered what it might be like to give up your fast-paced life in the city for one in the quaint farming community of STARDEW VALLEY. Just think: a general store instead of Amazon, home-cooked (and grown!) meals instead of Postmates, courtship with one of eight NPC bachelors or bachelorettes instead of Tinder. It could be heaven, right? It could be everything you’ve ever wanted.
We caught up via *snail mail* with Stardew’s farmer on the rise, Hendog, to get the skinny on what a typical sun-up to sun-down looks like and most importantly, how he gets his pumpkins to grow so dang big!
The moment that rooster crows I am up and at ‘em, fully clothed before even getting out of the bed I share with my wife of four days, Leah, who is ALSO already up and busying herself in the kitchen. Early risers! She hands me a freshly brewed cup of coffee; in return, I give her a poppyseed muffin. Everyone knows that the key to a happy marriage in Stardew Valley is daily presents, which is why I always keep a neverending supply of poppyseed muffins (her favorite!) on hand. “Happy wife, happy life!” I say as I sip my delicious coffee and think about all the fun things I’m going to do today.
Keep reading!Okay, show of hands, who’s been let down by someone in their life bef– great, that’s everybody! YEEZUS, TAKE THE WHEEL.
I miss the old Kanye
“All of the Lights” Kanye
Still problematic Kanye
But cuz, like, art Kanye
I hate the new Kanye
Rockin the MAGA Kanye
Hang out with Trump Kanye
Just go away Kanye
Kanye West is an American musician. That feels important to state off the bat — not because you didn’t know, you’re not fifteen years dead, but for some table-setting. He’s not a politician. He’s not a prophet. He’s not a genius (which what does that even mea–) Okay yes, technically, he is a fashion designer. But the only thing being fashioned around here today are some goddamn arguments.
It’s that post-Christmas-pre-New Years holiday stretch, which means you need safe but solid movies to burn through with relatives. Are they tired of ‘Guardians of the Galaxy 2’? Do they like the most *gentle* of gentle coming-of age dramas? Then BOY have I got a staff pick for you.
Architecture buffs
Look at some buildings, bone once
Sounds bad but it’s not!
A note before we really dive in here: ‘Columbus’ is a tedious movie. Let’s be super-clear about that upfront! It’s not boring, which would imply disinterest. But baked into the DNA of this relatively doable 105 minute (which easily feel like 170) movie is this “take your time” philosophy that, if you’re not onboard, may put you right to sleep. But this is sort of the point? (Editor’s note: GREAT REVIEW ALREADY, HENDOG.) What I’m trying to say is 1) the tedium feels pretty deliberate 2) it’s hardly a bad thing and 3) it may actually be the most powerful thing about this movie. Beauty in tedium! In an era where everything happens now, yesterday, that’s sort of nice.
Nobody could have predicted it, but here we are: a weird little indie made for $100,000 toppled ‘Spider-Man: Homecoming’ at the box office last weekend. How? Who? What? Say goodbye to your loved ones, children, and join us in a communion with the dead.
Casey Affleck dies
Existentialism lives
Letting go is hard
That’s not really a spoiler, by the way, Casey Affleck dying. The call sheet for ‘A Ghost Story’ listed just two actors (Affleck and Rooney Mara) and a bed sheet — one of them had to wear it, right? These are performers already adept at playing figurative ghosts; playing a literal one isn’t the biggest stretch.
After dying in a car accident, Affleck finds himself…well, becoming a ghost. His mortuary sheet becomes a spectral shroud, his modest South Texas rancher a haunted house, and his wife, Mara (she’s “M” in the credits; he’s “C”. The names aren’t important) the bereaved widow struggling to move on. Until she’s compelled to leave. Which is when this nitrous-fueled little tone poem really kicks into second gear.
Maybe you don’t all live in Southern California, but you sure as hell know someone on Instagram who does, which means that when I write the words “Super Bloom” you probably already know what I’m talking about. It’s this
and this
and this
…just endless ‘What Dreams May Come’ landscapes, pockmarked by the occasional Millennial selfie-taker (who didn’t, for the record, post that on Instagram! Just here).
What you’re looking at above is Antelope Valley Poppy Reserve in Lancaster, CA, where after one of the wettest winters in recent memory, fields that would normally host a smattering of flowers have instead EXPLODED with color. And Antelope Valley is just one SoCal hot spot — there’s Anza-Borrego to the southeast, Mugu State Park closer to the ocean. Lots of places to check out. Each is overflowing with wildflowers that aren’t just orange, but yellow, purple, blue…all of which have Latin names but we’re not botanists here or anything so let’s just keep going. Super Bloom!
You don’t have to, but listening to “Another Day of Sun” as you read the first however many words of this essay on…self-doubt? (idk) might help you get in the proper headspace. Your funeral either way, dude!
The scariest thing about penning a new Lifting Fog Post™, aside from the forever concern that I’ve “lost my mojo” (Editor’s note: it was never there to begin with), is addressing how much time has inevitably passed since the last one. Now in the Early Days™, this wasn’t much. Hiatuses lasted about a week depending on how many ‘OC’ episodes I’d decided to burn through, and apologies were easier when the act hadn’t yet been abolished by the 45th President of the United States.
Then time wears on and those silent weeks become silent months, become silent years. Suddenly it’s 2015, ’16. The fans are out there clamoring for new #content and I’m over here*, paralyzed by self-doubt and/or women who wisely fled the country. I couldn’t write even if I tried, and I definitely didn’t try!
THREE YEARS separate this from our last movie review, but rustiness and/or writing validity aside, Pixar’s latest demanded a return to the keyboard. Grab your “All of the Feels” haz mat suits and join us on this overwrought psycho-critical journey!
Aimed at children, sure
But adults with movie blogs
Are still children too
Wall-E is the best movie Pixar has ever made, and this is an unequivocal fact. Robots in love dancing through space on vapor trails, expressing this beautiful feeling neither of them really understand (they’re robots) but know their lives would now be empty without? FUCK, BRO, THAT’S THE STUFF.
…Of course for you, “best Pixar movie, unequivocally” might mean the brotherhood of toys embracing each other as they literally stare down death of Toy Story 3. Or the ocean-spanning search for a nervous father’s only son of Finding Nemo. Hell, it could even be Brave, if you’re being deliberately contrarian about it! Everyone has their favorite Pixar movie, and everyone has that movie in their head, consciously or not, when they sit down to watch the studio’s latest.
Like 70% of the first world, I got a Fitbit for Christmas. I have worn it almost every day since, taking it off only for showers or occasions that call for a watch, like rainforest benefits. It’s almost permanently attached to my wrist now. But it’s probably more decorative than anything.
If you’re already a decently active human being, a Fitbit will just confirm for you that you’re a decently active human being. You’ll discover, though you probably knew this already, that you take a decent amount of steps, covering a decent distance. You also climb a decent amount of stairs. You tend to burn a decent amount of calories.
Anyone who wants a Fitbit (and isn’t gifted one by quietly concerned friends or family) is already the type of person who finds data about their fitness routine interesting, who has already carved out brain space to think about the number of steps they walk in a day. What do “steps” even mean as an exercise metric?! Not even scientists know!
Point being the Fitbit — and by extension the whole world of wearable health tech, or whatever you want to call it — is inherently conflicted: a worthwhile device for people who will probably never wear it, and a silly “already knew that!” counter for anyone who cared enough to want one in the first place. In Simpsons parlance: “Too much of a boy for crazy town; too much of a crazy for boys town.”
Henning
smpage
Lifting Fog 