Yes, boys and girls, it's time once again for me to talk about my relationship with Superman. Sometimes in these little therapy sessions I complain about not being able to watch anything featuring Superman, sometimes I'm defending Superman from assorted detractors, other times I'm realizing that perhaps I shouldn't bother with watching or defending the character. This is another one of the last kind. See, I watched Superman II today and wasn't exactly surprised to find that, though I enjoyed the film in my childhood, it actually pretty much sucks. But I also realized something else as I was watching the movie: This whole secret identity thing is completely stupid. Remember that scene in Superman II where Lois Lane is convinced she's figured out that Clark Kent is actually Superman? She's so sure of herself that she throws herself into the Niagara River, where she'll surely be killed unless Superman intervenes. But rather than risk exposing his secret, Clark Kent nearly lets Lois drown before coming up with a way to clandestinely keep her from spilling over Niagara Falls. And this is the guy that loves Lois, remember? Yet keeping the whole "Clark Kent = Superman" thing a secret is so important it trumps ...

Now, far be it from me to say anything unkind about the 1964 TV special Rudolph the Red-Nosed Reindeer. It's a wonderful thing that each of us looks forward to all year long. But the consarn thing always makes me get a trivia question wrong! See, my friends and I frequently play this Trivial Pursuit-style board game where all the questions are about the movies and theme parks and television shows from the Walt Disney Company. We play it a lot, so repeated questions have a tendency to pop up. There's one in particular that I always seem to get. It asks the name of Bambi's girlfriend. And every time I'm asked, my mouth immediately opens and pours forth the word "Clarice." Then, about a second and a half later, I scream "DAMMIT!" This happens every single time. If I'd allow myself a moment to think, I'd undoubtedly come up with the correct answer, which is Faline. But when asked to name a lady deer, my brain immediately fires forth Rudolph's girlfriend Clarice, and all other lady deer are just going to have wait in line. Which is as it should be, really. I like Rudolph the Red-Nosed Reindeer a lot more than I like Bambi. That's ...

Last night I put up the Christmas tree at my parents' house. Since that's the kind of thing that puts you in a Christmasey mood right quick, when the tinsel was strung and the ornaments hung I put in my copy of Rudolph the Red-Nosed Reindeer and sat down to watch it. And of course I enjoyed it, as I always do. I love watching Rudolph and Charlie Brown and the Grinch, and I love being able to watch them whenever I feel like it. But I also miss the days before everybody had everything on video tape and then DVD. There was an added fun about watching these various Christmas specials when they were on TV exactly one time a year, and if you missed them you were screwed until the next December. Watching the major specials was a huge event when you only had one opportunity each winter. Further, with the specials only being on one time each year, when you sat down to look at Rudolph's adventures with Yukon Cornelius and the Bumble, you knew all your friends were doing the same thing. When you watched Linus tell Charlie Brown what Christmas is all about, you knew that kids and ...

I recently came across a truly awesome piece of information. Somebody from South Africa came here to Melted Reel after doing a Google search for: HOW TO MAKE APE TRAPS Is that not incredible? This is how I imagine the circumstances that led to this memorable visit. Onward Came the Apes Tumelo Buyskes sat huddled in a corner. He'd always thought of himself as a man in control of fears rather than someone whose fears controlled him. Yet there he was, actually shaking in terror, cowering in a corner like some craven animal. He clutched his knees tightly to his chest, trying in vain to stop the shaking. He couldn't help feeling disgusted with himself and with his situation. The light above him flickered. Tumelo's breath caught in his throat as he stared up at the bulb, sure that this time the light would go out and stay out. After an eternal second, the light managed to stay fighting the good fight, but dimmer than it had been before. Shit, Tumelo thought. Why didn't I set aside more fuel for the generator? He knew these thoughts did no good, but he couldn't help himself. It would have been such a simple thing, to make sure the emergency ...

Whether you're decorating a dorm room or your first apartment after moving out of a dorm room, you're going to need movie posters. Everybody loves a good movie poster. It's like art, but it doesn't require you to go to a musty museum, and sometimes it has Dustin Hoffman on it! Sometimes a poster gets you totally pumped for the movie it advertises, sometimes your love of the movie bleeds over into love of the poster's images, and sometimes a poster is totally awesome in spite of the movie it's shilling being a real turd. Posters! What fun! Anyway, here are some of my favorites. The Sexy Click for big time imageThe Seven Year Itch, 1955 They've never come any sexier than Marilyn Monroe, and here she's depicted at her most iconic. That's Tom Ewell in the background, but it could be a burning Sasquatch doing the jitterbug and it'd be a long time before anybody noticed. Click for big time imageAttack of the 50 Ft. Woman, 1958 Those people on the overpass are totally getting a look at the goods. Click for big time image The Sin of Nora Moran, 1933 I know you've never seen this flick; it's a totally forgettable B thing from Majestic Pictures. But ...

No amount of work could ever make the abominations that were the Star Wars prequels into good movies. This is obvious from the beginning. I have, however, noticed a way in which at least part of Attack of the Clones (Episode II) could have been enhanced by making a change in The Phantom Menace (Episode I). Of course, the movies would still suck, so there's really not much point in this discussion, but bear with me. Not long ago, I tried to read the novelization of The Phantom Menace. I don't have any idea why I even bothered, so don't ask. Novelizations of screenplays are always of much lower quality than their movie counterparts, and this movie sucked. I couldn't bring myself to finish the book, but that's hardly a surprise. There was, though, a scene in the book that was either added by author Terry Brooks or removed from the script sometime between when the novel was written and the movie was made. That's unfortunate; had it been left in, it would have lent some emotional weight to a scene in Attack of the Clones that is supposed to be highly dramatic but is just, like everything else in this trilogy, stupid. The ...

Christmas is everywhere by now. There's no avoiding it. All the stores are bedecked and festooned, all the TV commercials have tinkly carols playing in the background, all the children are thinking greedy thoughts. But it's not even Thanksgiving yet! For me, this is no problem. Christmas lights and music and decorations and dancing Santas can't possibly come soon enough for me. But I understand there are some people out there who prefer to get into the holiday season slowly, not really acknowledging it much until after December's halfway point. But I'll bet even people like that start to feel the yuletide pull when every storefront is red and green and every newspaper is filled with Christmas ads and every impulse-buy section at every checkout counter has those Reese's peanut butter cups shaped like Christmas trees. They may even find the pull so strong that they feel a little bit like listening to some Christmas music, but they just can't see themselves throwing on Bing Crosby or Brenda Lee in the third week of November. Well, is there ever a solution for people in that situation, I tell you what. How about the 2006 Twisted Sister album A Twisted Christmas? Holy eff is this album ...

This is going to be difficult to explain. In fact, I rather suspect I lack the words necessary to really convey the point of what I'm talking about, but a lack of skills has never stopped me before. Recently my DVD player gave up the ghost. I don't mean it's just acting temperamental, I mean it has thoroughly conked out. It's dead. It also managed to die with a DVD stuck in it, so I had to take the goddamn thing apart just to liberate my Casablanca supplemental features disc. Then, literally mere seconds after I finished working on that infernal machine, my receiver for my surround sound set-up utterly shit the bed. My auxiliary DVD player, the one that was built into the receiver, had always been rather fussy, but the machine worked just fine in terms of making the surround sound go. But the whole thing just died right after the DVD player did. Maybe it was too sad about its loss, like the dog at the end of Where the Red Fern Grows. Whatever the case, I was, as they say, one pissed off honky. All the old cliches applied: it never rains, but it pours; if it's not ...

They say breakfast is the most important meal of the day, but my breakfast this morning was a heck of a lot more. As you know if you've come to the site at this time of year before, I am crazy for Christmas. If I had my druthers, I'd start trimming trees and wrapping packages right around Memorial Day. But I mostly keep my out-of-season urges to myself. Nothing sends normal people into a rage more than some dopey fucker singing "We Wish You a Merry Christmas" during an August heatwave, and it'd only be a matter of time before someone beat me up. Even when the stores put up their Christmas displays I don't quite feel like it's okay to go public with my holiday merriment. After all, doesn't everyone always say "Seems like the stores put that stuff up earlier and earlier every year?" So I know they're not ready for my yuletide styles. But all that changes when I get my first bowl of Christmas Crunch. Cap'n Crunch is one of my favorite cereals whatever the time of year. But when his glorious Christmas variety hits the shelves, and I get to take a box home and savor every bite, I ...