Category Archives: Social

What’s in a Name…?

It’s no secret: I’m a big fan of the First Blood/Rambo series. But I’m the first one to admit that this is undeniably the most confusingly named collection of movies in cinema. These are the official titles for the four films, in the order they were produced and intended to be viewed:

  • First Blood
  • Rambo: First Blood Part II
  • Rambo III
  • Rambo

So… First Blood is the first film, released in 1982. So far, so good. It is the only entry in the series with a legitimate title.

The first sequel to First Blood was released in 1985 and is called Rambo: First Blood Part II. The series now has the prefix of Rambo attached to it, which is really where all the problems begin. It’s also slightly concerning that the second movie has the suffix of First Blood Part II, instead of Second Blood, which although lacking in resonance, would have been – at the very least – grammatically cleaner.

In 1988 the third film in the franchise is released, and it is simply called Rambo III, which on the surface is entirely acceptable as it is indeed the third film, but completely maddening as there was never (and has never been) a Rambo II. As its predecessor was Rambo: First Blood Part II, the convention would be for the third film to be called, Rambo II: First Blood Part III, but that is a little clumsy, so I can understand dropping the suffix. You could however, drop the prefix instead, and simply call the third entry, First Blood Part III, which is correct by the series’ logic thus far, but as the decision seems to have been to drop the association with First Blood entirely, the only correct chronological way to present the title is as Rambo II, but as you can see, that title is entirely absent from the series.

The fourth and final film in the series from 2008 – the one that follows Rambo III – is called Rambo. And no, it takes place twenty years after Rambo III, so it’s not a prequel (which would perhaps somewhat justify the title), nor is it a remake or a reboot of the second film in the series (which shares a similar name). It is effectively Rambo IV.

Stallone has gone on record as saying he will not be making another entry in the series, but if he did, there’s a fair chance the fifth film would be called Rambo II.

Just sayin’.

There’s a Pizza Topping in Each of Us…

hawaiian-pizzaGreek-born businessman Sam Panopoulos died a few days ago at the age of 83. He was the guy credited with inventing the Hawaiian pizza back in the sixties… although whether you can call dropping a few chunks of tropical fruit onto a ham pizza as invention is up for debate.

Having said that, Hawaiian was my favourite pizza for a long time, and I don’t really understand the hate it gets. It’s sweet, it’s savoury – what’s not to like? I can think of a dozen toppings that are more head-scratching than pineapple. Broccoli anyone? You’re kidding me, right?

Rest in peace, sir, and I hope your family does the right thing and serves a few slices at the wake.

Old Bats or Old Crows…

Today I went with my aunt to visit a couple of residential homes for my grandma.

In one of the places we were shown, without warning, the manager opened a door onto a large lounge where about twenty or twenty-five elderly men and women were sitting in a semi-circle around a small television in the corner of the room. They all turned to us in unison, remained silent, and then went back to their afternoon entertainment.

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I turned to my aunt and said, “it’s like a scene from The Birds, only more creepy,” and it really was. We exited the other side of the lounge and I felt a shiver along the length of my back.

Suffice to say, I don’t want my grandma ending up in that place.

 

 

Snaps of the Dead…

I was looking through a collection of old, black and white family photos that my grandma has under her bed. I recognise the faces in some of them, but a lot of the subjects are unfamiliar to me, and there are no names on the back to help me out either. Some of them have an eerie quality about them, and they remind me of the old practice of post-mortem photography. You know, the tradition from the nineteenth century where families would take pictures of their loved ones shortly after death. For all I know this is the case here.

My aunt – my grandma’s daughter – is in all likelihood, the only person left who may have been able to help with their identities, but I showed them to her and she doesn’t know either… meaning the trail is cold and who these people are has possibly been lost to time forever.

I’m going to keep the pictures. Maybe I will be able to piece the puzzle together someday. To what end I don’t know, but I would hate to throw out history, and I am a sentimental shit when it comes to things like that.

Editing Your Epitaph…

Your final words are your very last edits, but unlike with writing, the story of your life does have an end point. You don’t have endless opportunities to revise and redraft. One day it’s finished.

Most of us don’t get the opportunity to choose what those final words will be, because most of us don’t choose when we die, so we end up with trivialities and non-sequiturs that don’t mean very much in the greater scheme of things.

But if you could choose your last words, what would they be, and how would you present them to the people you care about?

I love you.

I am sorry.

I reckon they would have to be up there as perhaps the most common, right? Adoration and apologies. And I guess not many of us reach the end of an adult life in which both of those would not apply to someone, in some way.

Do you say these things face-to-face? Maybe you sign and seal your thoughts the old-fashioned way, with pen and paper. Or perhaps you post it on your blog so that it’s there for the whole world to see.

Some stories don’t end the way we would like, and some edits never get made.

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Grumpy Old Man (Items 46 – 50)…

It’s time for a few more of these…

  • People who are constantly checking their phone when they are out with you, as if your company and conversation isn’t enough for them. This is especially annoying if said person is particularly lazy at responding to the text messages you send.
  • People who spoil the end of a movie or television series for no reason other than to be a dick.
  • Those out there with the conceited belief that the book is always better than the movie. I love books, but even I know that sometimes a good movie is made from a shit book.
  • The idea that if I enter a shop wearing jeans and a shirt that I bought from the local supermarket, that I can’t possibly afford what you are selling. Don’t judge a man’s wallet by the cut of his clothes – that person may just surprise you.
  • Motorbikes. Stop nipping in and out of the traffic. If you’re behind me, stay behind me. Don’t ride alongside me because you can, or next time I just may open my door as you try to slip by.

Genius at Work…

April 21st.

On this day in 1984, this album –

Thriller

– was knocked off the top of the US charts, after spending thirty-seven weeks at Number One. As of 2017 it is estimated to have sold anywhere between 60 and 100 million copies. Nothing else is even close. It was – in the true meaning of the word – a phenomenon. Nowadays, with the way music is distributed and purchased, this is a record (pun intended) that will never be broken. Say what you like about Michael Jackson – and a lot of people do – but the guy broke down walls.

So if you’re one of the half dozen people in the western world who hasn’t heard it, go find it and do so. Right now.

When She No Longer Knows You…

It’s very upsetting to visit my grandma every day, in the home which will – in all likelihood – be the place she finishes out her life, only to see her fade away, both physically and mentally. It hasn’t taken long, but it has been decisive. She’s ninety-two. She’s had a good life. What she has now isn’t much of anything. Maybe I should have been prepared, but these things tend to catch you while you’re sleeping.

She told me today that it was sad that my great uncle has dementia, and that he can’t get out the way he used to, and how sometimes he doesn’t even recognise his own family anymore. You see, he’s been that way for a couple of years. He’s over a decade younger than she is. I said I agreed with her. She told me he just kind of exists in his own little world, inside his head, and I agreed with that too. But I told her the good thing is that he probably doesn’t realise these things are happening to him though, and she nodded.

And then she called me John.

I didn’t know whether to laugh or cry at the irony.