Da Dominion: Home of DOMINIONCAST!

OK, so Frank Miller is starting to slip a bit.

I say this after having just seen his latest comic adaptation to the big screen, The Spirit. A movie that makes up what it lost in tension with lots of ass … and I mean a lot of ass. A shame it still doesn’t compensate.

Did you see Sin City? Great flick wasn’t it? It had a new illustratively gritty style of shooting and a series of interconnected stories that captured the pathos of the characters. The Spirit has Pathos, a henchman to the big bad guy played to comic relief effect ably by Louis Lombardi (Edgar from 24), but that’s the only pathos it has.

The Spirit, former slain cop Denny Colt turned charismatic vigilante golden age heroic zombie, warrants none. He’s unkillable, super athletic, and gets to fight for justice above the law and EVERYONE with a vagina wants him in it - even death itself is wet for him. Protecting Central City - named this only because Gotham is still taken - is his only committed relationship though . Sad, if he didn’t spend most of his time hitting on everything and stringing along the love interest/cop commissioner‘s daughter Dr. Dolan.

Ever catch 300? Good flick wasn’t it? A dramatically epic vision of one of the greatest military battle in history was crafted. Leonides was defending his freedom from a freakishly alien but ambitious foreign conqueror Xerxes. Pose Fu action done masterfully in each bloody combat scene. Samuel Jackson plays the nemesis of the Octopus, a stylistically insane mad scientist with the same powers as the Spirit, whom he created by experiment. He’s named for the cephalopod cause his tentacles are everywhere … supposedly. The name fits cause he’s mentally everywhere. He’s some kind of super pimp in the first scene, samurai in the next, Nazi officer then Cossack. Character concept is obvious: let’s play dress up with badass Sam Jackson, muthafucka!

The Spirit does Rapid Fu combat direction mostly, not very herky jerky but lots of pans to the shadow of what’s going on when he‘s beating the hell out of the 12th stupid clone of Lombardi. Otherwise, it’s mainly The Spirit getting shot by somebody until he needs to catch his breath whistling through multiple bullet holes like Daffy Duck when he takes a drink of water and it fountains out. Very cartoony violence abounds. When Jackson hits him with a toilet in the beginning you catch the theme.

The pluses are plus sized hips all through out. Eva Mendes. Scarlett Johansson. I was very disappointed when they couldn’t find walk on roles for Vida Guerra nor Kim Kardashian. The best scene was when our hero tracks the jewel thief Sand Seref (Mendes, cause Latin Wide Bottom isn’t a font name) through the city by showing a Xerox of her butt. It and Silken Floss’ (Johansson) chestiness were the highlights.

Wait for the DVD, and make sure your pause button is strong.

Egg Nog and Japanese beer fueled ramblings about holiday movies, Oscar season and snatch. If there’s any cast to put the parental locks on, it’s this one. Rib, Hunin, The Chocolate Lady, Felicia and myself have a merry time in this our last recording of the year. Hope you enjoy! … and forgive us.

Dominion Cast 20 download: 67 mins. & 61MB

Music from Les Stances Sibyllines by Niconoclaste and fragments of stories by Wasaru
Snatch for the Holidays
Favorites: Elf, Friday after Next, Home Alone, Dick in a Box
The Gift of Roots (Rutz)
Who the hell is Elizabeth Pena
Feliz Navidad
Oscar Buzz: Furry Aussie, bub.
Cadillac Records? Mos Def is the other one, playing Chuck Berry
The Spirit of the Season
Lady Blockbusters
Make bread, not Guiness
Four Christmasezzzzzzzzzz

Christmas reveals the consolidated final guest list for the celebration/get-together you plan to attend. You’ve got the A-listers, family and friends, covered - hopefully - but what about those friends in-law that are showing up too? The sister’s fiancée, your brother’s college buddy from the broken home, or your aunt’s long-time “friend” that dresses butch and likes football more than you. All of these people don’t really mean much to you, but the spirit of the holidays should be spread: indebt them with a gift they’re not expecting to reap gifts from them next year.

Here are the top three “You really shouldn’t have” gifts:

Fourth Runner Up:

3. Gasoline. Gas stations are open, on the way to your destination or just around the corner so it’s great for the last moment, a gallon gift certificate. The prices are pretty low now - and they know this. Mention some news report you saw on BBC news - or some other channel few watch - about how the Oil Companies are waiting to jack back up prices once Obama gets in office and the economic crisis levels out. Remind them of Mad Max; it‘s not lying it‘s probable. Cheap, sure, but what did they get you? Co-signing the “From” tag on the gift from your real family pales next to good old Texas tea.

2. Donate in their name. Tis the season when PBS and NPR interrupts their normal informative program to beg for your support and offer DVD’s of their programs which you’ve already downloaded from the internet. Still, ya feel guilty. Kill two turtle doves with one stone by giving your usual $5 donation in their name. Now every elderly viewer that has on PBS as background noise and kids doing reports on the plight of the endangered California red-legged frog can know that they give generously. Any thank you gifts PBS sends, you keep it … nah, give it to them. It’s a cheap gift already and you have Absolute Zero: The Conquest of Cold on TiVo for yourself anyway.

1. A Vintage Book. By “vintage” I mean the oldest copy of your favorite book - the one you’ve read a dozen times already and own several different editions. This really communicates sincerity cause you actually are sharing something you’ve enjoyed - if they read similar literature. If they don’t, now is the time to introduce them to the pioneering genius of Frank Herbert’s Dune. It may open up a whole new avenue of entertainment if they don’t chuck it on the lowest level of their bookshelf or use it to level out a wobbly table. Should either of these two outcomes be likely, out of respect for the author gift them your least favorite oldest book. Demographically speaking, those that don’t like Dune may deeply love Waiting to Exhale.

Failing all these, booze works every time - but, ironically Colt 45 wouldn’t in this instance.

Listeners,

I’m very sorry but due to weird encoding issues between ProTools and Audacity, the Dominion Cast planned for today will not be released for the enjoyment of you couple of dozen subscribers. When the WAV file is imported only five minutes of audio shows up although the file is over an hour long. This is not a request for technical assistance, we’re too proud for that, but an illustration of the Truth that even your Dominus can fuck up.

Yes, it’s True.

I’ve made perhaps hundreds of thousands of mistakes. From moderating a mirthlessly anal discussion of satire on Cast 2 to defending AMG’s rap anthem “Big bettah have my Money” in Cast 12+1 to objectifying women with a universally useful ten-point scale in Cast 14 to joking about elderly screen icon Ruby Dee’s battle with constipation in the last episode, poor choices abound. There is also a tendency to write run-on sentences and swearing like a shit-mouthed bastard too much in my posts.

Part of growing up is admitting personal limitations just as part of growing in is wearing shorts during winter in Michigan (high of 23 today … fuck’in Fahrenheit). I’ll never do porn because I don’t want to share my awesome sex techniques, like the palm strike under the navel - more effective than any ass slap. It is unlikely that I could win a marathon since paraplegics don’t run marathons - and I’m not a paraplegic so why would they let me compete? It is impossible for me drink a fifth of Southern Comfort on an empty stomach in less than half an hour and not vomit. I know because I tried, but setting goals for yourself is always admirable.

Again, I most humbly apologize to you few of Friday night shut-ins for not having a Cast for you to listen to and pretend you’re a part of in lieu of actual friends. You’ll have to listen to your regularly enjoyed death metal as you do guild wars on WoW. Next week we’ll do an extra long Dominion Cast for your entertainment. The topic: a surprise, the way you like … or accept it. Until then have a great silent weekend.

With all the love a jaded little heart can muster for strangers without the assistance of alcohol,

Dominus Digga the First

FOX - home of the any reality show you can imagine from matching wits with children to animals finally getting pissed and mauling a mafucka - has decided to play on these harsh financial times and the generosity of the holiday season with it’s new show Secret Millionaire. Do you know what it’s about? Can you guess? That’s right!

It’s sort of like Joe Millionaire in reverse and with more real (homely) looking women. Daddy Warbucks and trophy wife - or age appropriate wife with a great pre-nup - get a $200-150 budget for week and are set up in some urban shit hole or trailer park depending on whichever they can fit in. The episode I saw had a Latino family in Watts, LA - Brown and Black blend in the ghetto, yet violently clash ironically. The producers follow them with cameras but tell folk it’s a documentary about living in the hood. This also creates an artificial bubble of safety, since there are witnesses and cameras don’t fence at the pawnshop for very high.

Wouldn’t you know it, these rich folk just so happen to meet some neighbors that are making the best of their life without Jacuzzis or a walk-in closet that features a 24-hour hot stone masseuse? Sometimes they just so happen to come upon a community group that gives support to others for free, which is something rich people never do for each other being so tangled in the root of all evil. Implicit in their education is the presumption that these places are NOT actually full of rappers holding cellulite beauty contests, nor mulleted sister-fucking clansman with boundary issues.

Funny thing: the Latino couple I saw were self-made rich - husband was at least, but not reached a mid-life crisis yet so still on bargain wife number 1. They’d come from a similar area to Watts, but dude was like he’s not from here so none of his barrio streetwise applied. Really? Weren’t you near this level 10 years ago?

After a week of seeing how the peasant folk live, a steady malnourishing diet of ramen noodles, dollar menu and raccoon croquettes (variant with choice of shit hole) moves them to tears. The flavor of tarragon is but a mere memory and they’ve got rashes from wiping their own ass wrong without a decent bidet. Their jewel-encrusted hearts grow three sizes too big and they realize: “Wait a sec, Muffy. We have money. Let’s … sh- … sh- … share some with these surprisingly human-like people.”

Here comes the real shocker. On the last day, they visit all of their new best friends and reveal that they’re actually millionaires. Dun-dun-duuuuuh! To make up for the deception they give them or their organizations tens of thousands of dollars if not an even hundred grand. Get ready for it - the poor folk forgive them with a hug and tears!! Icing on the deception cakes: “Take care, Shaniqua. We’ll be back, you guys are real friends.”

Riiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiight.

Can’t you just see Cooter at the next cocktail party? Shirtless with an elbow patched tweed jacket bitching to executives about how Friend of the Court is rougher than the stock markets. More likely, young Tyrone gets to serve Christmas cookies at the holiday party and gets to take the leftovers home.

Look, your Dominus is not without pity or charity in his heart. I’m glad these poor folk are getting some help, especially in these strapped times. I’m glad these rich folk are getting into the Obaman spirit of not being such greedy bastards. Don’t try to tug on my heartstrings like this whole thing was spontaneous. Know why I don’t think we’ll be seeing any secret Black millionaires?

A. They’ve been there and done it and don’t need a hood refresher.
B. They’re busy on the road with their basketball team or on tour promoting they’re new album.
C. If a camera is following a Black man through the hood everyone assumes it’s on Cops and flees.

I must say that I approve of domestic charity over the loot that third worlds gets: having your child bought by an aging celebrity and all that fancy air dropped jasmine rice. Charity begins at home, or more likely that greasy urban sprawl between your suburban manse and the downtown office.