My own Michael Jackson weirdness

Sure, Michael Jackson's all over the news today. But there's some weird stuff going on with Jacko and the Bartman. In a way, his death was like the capstone of my most Michael Jackson-intensive week ever.

Item #1: on Monday, I was listening to the latest episode of Doug Benson's delightful podcast, I Love Movies. It's a simple enough concept - he brings guests onstage at the Upright Citizens Brigade theater and talks about movies. The guests range from people you've never heard of to Kevin Pollak, Sarah Silverman, and Jon Hamm. The guests you've not heard of are generally funny. Except the women, who tend to be airheads. At any rate, the conversation turned to Francis Ford Coppola, because he's got a new movie coming out, and Doug Benson revealed that he'd been a backup dancer in 'Captain EO'. "What the hell is 'Captain EO'", you may wonder. Oh, it was the Francis Ford Coppola-directed, Michael Jackson-starring short film that was made for Disney theme parks. It looks incredibly bizarre.

Apparently the story with backup dancing was that the movie went over-budget, so Coppola had to fire the professional backup dancers and just brought in anyone he could find. That's how a pothead comedian with no discernable coordination ended up as a dancer. While describing his experience, Doug said "Oh yeah, Michael Jackson was definitely a child molester." Because any time he wasn't filming, he had a young child on his lap, and they were whispering to each other and giggling.

So that's Michael Jackson item #1. A random call-back to a weird 20-year-old Disney theme park video.

Item #2: whilst listening to the Pretty Good Podcast on Wednesday, the hosts started talking about how much each of them loves the Michael Jackson song 'Stranger in Moscow'. I'm not familiar, but at the end of the podcast they play some of it, and I think, hmm, I like it. It's un-Michael-Jackson-y. Kind of like people who don't like Woody Allen movies like 'Match Point', I'm not a big Jacko fan, but right then & there I downloaded 'Stranger in Moscow' on my iPhone. (Later I was trying to decide if I'd ever owned any Michael Jackson music, but I think as a kid I had a 7-inch record of 'Thriller'. Christ, if that doesn't date me, nothing does.)

Item #3: Jacko dies on Thursday.

So, there you have it. My most Jacko-intensive week ever. Ne'er to be beaten, thanks to his untimely demise.

Say what you will, my first thought when I heard the guy was dead was: that's a relief. Not for me, but for him. In the same way that when someone who's terminally ill dies, I think, well, at least they're not horribly suffering any more.

If you want a proper tribute, go read Roger Ebert.

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Numismatic Devilry

Ack! I failed in my attempts to buy silver coins in Germany (which you're supposed to be able to get directly from banks), and I didn't manage to get a 5-euro commemorative coin I was looking for in The Netherlands.

But now, after my unprecedented level of travel to Europe, you can buy gold from a vending machine in the Frankfurt airport.

Dammit, Europe! Get your crap together. Either that, or America, get your crap together.

I need a Morning Martini.

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Whorin' and Smokin' in Amsterdam

I'm going to work a little bit backwards in my trip recap. Last things first: Amsterdam. Mrs. Bart and I had a 1-night stopover in Amsterdam on our way back from Turkey. It was purely a logistical thing, since we were flying KLM. Still, I was interested to see this fabled city. Crazy architecture! Below sea level! Legalized prostitution! Bland food! Weed! Oh snap, I was going to break it the F off, Holland-style.

It was a long day - we had to wake up early in southern Turkey, get on a bus, drive an hour to the airport, check our bags, fly to Istanbul, pick up and recheck our bags, and fly again. By the time we got to Amsterdam it was 6 PM local time, and it was cold and rainy. I was still in Mediterranean dress mode.

I was highly amused, however, while standing in line to get my passport stamped.

We were in the "non-EU" line, behind a couple of Aussies (bearded, crazy hair, wearing shorts and sandals) and the most bizarre American or Canadian I've ever seen. This cat was tall, blond, wearing a gray suit, white dress shoes, and had a pair of pink sunglasses on his head. Not fancy sunglasses, either; think plastic, mid-80s style. Maybe that's fashionable now (again?), but they looked pretty damn stupid. He was guy / dude / bro-ing it up with the Aussies, talking about hitting bars and picking up chicks, and I'm thinking, OK, if they let this jerkoff into the country, they ought to pay me to come in just to balance out their society.

Passport was no problem (because I live in a GOOD country), and we picked up our bags and made our way to the airport hotel. We'd reasoned that, no matter what, it would be better to have a short distance to haul our bags if we decided to go into town. Plus, there's a train station right there at the airport, so we're near a surface transportation hub.

We checked in, heard a cute little Dutchette lilt out some English in an adorable accent, and headed up to the room to plan our assault on this capital of Euro-depravity.

We didn't make it out of the hotel.

I think we have a decent excuse. In all likelihood, that excuse is called the KLM Airlines butter snack cake. We decided it's the only thing in the preceding 48 hours that Mrs. Bart had eaten and I hadn't. In any case, something made Mrs. Bart violently ill, so we didn't get to venture out.

I'm not proud of the following, but I'll go ahead and admit it: while Mrs. Bart was illin', I started thinking, hmm, I could just take a train into Amsterdam by myself. I quickly decided it wouldn't be cool (with her or me), but the thought crossed my mind.

The next morning, heading back to the check-in area at the airport, I had another unwelcome thought as I passed through the train station. Seeing all the boards showing the destinations, and the times the trains were leaving, I thought, I don't have to get on the plane back to Dallas. I could just hop a train, go as far and as long as my credit cards'll take me... some classic end-of-vacation thinking.

Needless to say we got on the flight, and had a most unpleasant time, as Mrs. Bart was still feeling awful and now had the added benefit of blaming her condition on the airline. Yep, that's one of the crappiest 10-hour stretches I've ever sat through. Although we did get to watch 'The Watchmen' and 'Quantum of Solace'.

So thanks a ton, KLM. Not only did I not get to whore or smoke it up in Amsterdam, now my wife has totally ruled out your country for future vacations, layovers, connections, or international relocation. Now I'm stuck with goddamn Belgium. I hope you're happy, 'cause I'm not.

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Bart: Cola Turka pitchman

Hey friends, it's your old pal Bart from ThisManMustBeStopped.com. You know, whenever I'm in Turkey, or just hanging out with Turkish friends overseas, I like to satisfy my thirst with a refreshing Cola Turka. Just open a moderately cold can, take a drink, and you'll say, "Mmm! Turkish!"

So remember, when you've got a Turk-sized thirst, and there's Turks watching you, forget those other sodas. Reach for the refreshing, Turkish cola: Cola Turka!

But don't take my word for it. Ask Turkish culture enthusiast Chevy Chase:





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"Community" has it all

I would pre-set my TiVo to record this show if it was working. (Actually, the TiVo is working fine, I just need a digital adapter to make it work with the Verizon Fios service, and I don't much feel like paying Verizon anything extra.)



Seriously, though, this show has everything I want in television:

1. It's on free TV
2. Joel McHale (since I don't get cable, I never saw The Soup, but he was a regular guest on Adam Carolla's radio show)
3. Chevy Chase
4. Community college, and the numerous comedic opportunities afforded therein.

Now, when meeting Joel McHale or Chevy Chase, I'll have an "in". "You know, I teach at a community college. Like on that show you were on..." Yeah, that'll be a winning conversational gambit.

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Turkey, cont.

Tomorrow we're leaving Istanbul (sigh, it's been nice) and heading out to a Mediterranean resort in southern Turkey. I don't know if this is the best part, but it's an interesting part: we've been told that 90% of the guests at this resort will be Russians. And those mofos know how to party. It is going to be ON, Vladivostok-style!