thefreshfunk-blog

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Stand Up Already

by Alex Smith

I'm very proud to present this project, written by and starring FFG contributor Josh Hamburger. Produced by Josh, Anthony Lodato, and myself, it is a short film about a young comedian battling his nerves at his first open mic. Co-starring the hilarious Ben Rosen! Oh, and I edited it.

Give it a watch and let us know what you think!

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Superheroes on the Small Screen: An Update

By Alex Smith

A few months back I posted some thoughts about why superheroes thrive in movies but struggle on television. You can read that here.

In the article I posited that it’s too difficult to really recreate the magic and fantasy of comic books within the limited budget of television and that networks needed to stop trying to match the special effects that go with costumed heroes but still find an entrance into this incredible, amazing, spectacular world.

That’s why I was excited for SHIELD. It was Marvel without Iron Man, the Hulk, Thor, Captain America, and alien invasions destroying New York. At the same time, that’s why I had reservations about SHIELD. It was Marvel without Iron Man, the Hulk, Thor, Captain America and no alien invasions destroying New York. I worried that people wouldn’t tune in without the big stars to fill seats.

Boy was I wrong. The series had a super debut, reaching 11.9 million viewers total with 4.6 million in the key demographic, and ABC has ordered the rest of the season already.

It’s been a great ride so far and while no, it’s not the Avengers comes to TV, it has retained the great mix of thrilling action and light hearted fun that make the Marvel movies so enjoyable. The special effects have been enough to give us a taste of comic magic without breaking the bank. It’s already had an appearance by Nick Fury and I’d bet there are more surprises in store as the season plays out.

Also, at the end of my previous post, I said if SHIELD does well, and since I had reservations it was definitely an if, to watch out for comic property Gotham Central to get some attention.

And, boy was I right!

Although it isn’t directly tied to Gotham Central, Fox has committed to a series named Gotham that will give the tv audience an entrance into the world of Batman without actually starring the Caped Crusader. This isn’t to pat myself on the back or boast about playing TV exec from my couch, I’m just excited about seeing more comic related series on my television.

Now excuse me while I put on my cape and fly around the apartment.

Thanks for reading!

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A Love/Hate Letter to New York, New York

by Alex Smith

Depending on who you ask, New York City can be an incredible place filled with spectacle and opportunity, new adventures and old histories waiting to be discovered and enjoyed or it can be a dirty, filthy, aggressively off putting place.

Depending on when you ask, those answers might come from the same person. New York kind of forces you into a love hate relationship.

It’s easy to look up at the towering skyscrapers and be wowed by the immensity of the cityscape but, as you walk along, those same buildings can make you feel small and insignificant and trapped within a concrete jungle. The lights and sounds of Manhattan are intoxicating and Times Square in all it’s glory is a sight to behold, but only for as long as you can tolerate the hordes of tourists also taking it in. The public transportation is great asset and can get you anywhere you want to go from anywhere you might be and yet it’s tough to appreciate that when you’re stuffed into a tin can subway car with a hundred other New Yorkers who all just want to get home after a long day at work. And somehow you’re always out of money on your MetroCard.

Living in New York for these past two years has been a roller coaster. I’ve been lucky enough to take in several of the cities parks and enjoy free tapings of The Daily Show, John Oliver’s Stand Up Show, and some concerts. At the same time, I’ve also reluctantly spent $10 on a beer, have never been so frustrated with complete strangers, and had to deal with a whole barrage of noise and smells that no one should have to deal with, especially middle of the night jackhammering in downtown Brooklyn. But overall, I wouldn’t trade it for anything in the world.

This city is a living breathing entity. It can chew you up and spit you out, leave you pulling out your hair and with nothing but the clothes on your back. Or you can relish the experience and let love win over the hate. Find the inspiration in the city, enjoy the beauty and history of 8 million people living in one place, and use this city as your canvas.

As I prepare to leave NYC behind, I want to share my top 3 favorite pieces of street art I’ve stumbled upon during my time here.

1) Artist Eduardo Kobra. West 25th St. Can be seen from a great vantage point on the High Line.

2) Artist EPSO. “All is Fare in Love & Brooklyn”. Corner of Livingston St and Boerum Pl.

3) Artist Victor Goldfeld. ODB Mural. Corner of Putnam and Franklin in Bedstuy.

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London Calling

So the title is a cliche. But it’s fitting in the sense that traveling is all about adopting cultural cliches from another part of the world. It doesn’t mean you lack originality, or a sense of adventure, or that you’ve erred on the wrong side of the tourist/traveller divide.

And it definitely doesn’t mean that The Clash are anything less than the best punk band of all time.

So. What are the cultural cliches I adopted in foggy London Town?

First thing I did after arriving at my sister’s flat was drop my shit and dip out for a proper English breakfast. We hit this spot called The Breakfast Club in East London. There was enough slaughtered animal on my plate to make Sweeny Todd a bit queasy. By far the best bit was a breakfast sausage run through the grinder with fresh herbs. Tasted like nothing I’ve ever had before, and I’ve eaten an ungodly amount of sausage before. That’s why cultural cliches matter - even the shittiest English breakfast meat shits on Jimmy Dean.

The cultural cliche also matters when it comes to fish and chips. Took down this dish pub style, at a watering hole called The Dove - an ill-fitting name considering the hawkish attitude the joint had toward beer consumption. With over 600 varieties, it was hard to pick, but I was with an old friend who enjoys the labors of yeast as much as I do, so we sampled a few. First time I’ve ever had Delirium Tremens on tap.

Now apart from food (although separating traveling from food is a bit like trying to split the atom with a butter knife) London has a ton of culture to offer. Having just left New York, I tried to resist that tendency to compare the new love interest to the old girlfriend. The two cities are similar in many ways. But London doesn’t seem to put on airs the way New York can at times. The vibe was cosmopolitan without trying too hard. The Tate has cool looking modern art that doesnt make you feel like a douchebag for not understanding or liking all of it. East London, where my tour guide (sister) hangs her hat almost out Brooklyns Brooklyn as a haven for the millennial creative class without devolving into the abject commercialism of Williamsburg.

In the end, it was a brief jaunt, but one that generated more interast in the city than I had before. Which is the hallmark of a good trip. Makes you want to sing “I live by the river.”

Onward to the birthplace of democracy.

[thefreshfunk-blog]

by Alex Smith

Porn Sex vs Real Sex: The Differences Explained with Food.

A great video I was able to be a part of with the awesome people at Kornhaber Brown. It's the production company behind such incredible web series as PBS Off Book and PBS Idea Channel. Check out all of their work!

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Decoding the Mind

by Sam Shames

Quick, pretend you’re an elephant! Now if you are like most people, what you just did was imagine yourself in an elephant’s body. But what is the “yourself” that you imagined inside the elephant’s body? The answer is your mind. You are your mind, and I am mine, the conscious self, the owner of your experiences and the piece of you which thinks, feels, and perceives. The difficulty of investigating the mind in a scientific context is apparent just by the difficulty of defining what exactly the mind is.

One of the more perplexing issues about the mind is its inherently subjective nature, the qualia. Almost every person has had this thought as a child about colors: How do I know that what I see as red my friend does not see as green? This question goes right to heart of the problem of the mind -  how do you bring the mind into the realm of science, which must be objective?

The reason that current scientific techniques cannot adequately explain the connection between the brain and the mind has two separate but related parts. First, the brain is such a complex system that all models to date lack the necessary level of detail. And second, the current ways of studying the brain, MRI imaging, do not capture enough detail to describe exactly what is occurring on the neuronal level. The average brain has 10^12 neurons, each of which sends signals to and receives signals from about 1000 neurons. The complexity of the system is overwhelming and even todays supercomputers lack the processing power to compute the system. What researchers have discovered, using MRIs, are regions of the brain which correlate to different parts of the mind. However, MRI images are not detailed enough to give more detail. The average MRI lumps millions of neurons into the average MRI image. In the future, with more sophisticated imaging techniques and more powerful computers, a complete understanding of the brain-mind connection is possible.

Are the brain and the mind the same thing?

If the answer is yes, then specific changes in brain activity always translate to some subjective experience of the mind. It would be impossible to change the brain without also changing someone’s mind and personality. This doctrine is called physicalism, and a lot current research seems to be pointing in this direction. On the other hand, if physicalism is undermined by further research, then it could be possible for a clone of yourself to have a different mind. This is also means that it could be possible the color which I call blue looks like what I call yellow in someone else’s mind.

How did the mind evolve?

Another avenue which we can use to talk about the mind is natural selection. It is not hard to imagine the kind of advantages available to animals with true consciousness. Assuming for a moment that we are in fact the only animals with minds, why do we possess minds when no other animals do? Does the fact that we are the only creatures with minds mean that some specific 3 dimensional arrangement of matter is essential for a mind to develop?

Making the leap from having the potential for consciousness to actually possessing a mind is one of the biggest mysteries of nature. Unconscious parts must fuse into a conscious whole, a self. Something from nothing. Holism from atomism.

Now we can circle back to examining what it means to pretend. The answer to this question could help explain the fascination that children have with playing pretend and why they can get so deeply ensnared by their imaginations. But, the answer also has implications for adults; it could better explain the phenomenon of sympathy and empathy. What exactly does the mind do when you have sympathy for someone? How do you put yourself in someone else’s shoes? The answer could help make the world a much better place where people use each other less and care more about others.

Fact is, the science that will be necessary to answer many of these questions is still a long way off. When Descartes famously said “cogito, ergo sum”, he meant that by thinking with his mind, it proved that he, meaning the thinking entity, his mind, must exist as… A complete knowledge of the mind offers the chance to finish that sentence. It will tell us exactly what we are. Even if we are elephants.

[thefreshfunk-blog]

Billy Off the Street

by Alex Smith

If you haven't seen Billy on the Street, you should change that.

Billy Eichner's ambush game show is the best thing to happen to game shows since, well, maybe ever. Popularized by shows like Cash Cab, the ambush game show brings the game to unsuspecting contestants when they least expect it, for example, when they enter a cab. Billy takes it to the next level and literally bombards passersby on the streets of New York City with random music and pop culture questions in a segment that is appropriately called, and in all actuality could not be called anything besides, “Quizzed in the Face.”

Billy was born to be the host just like Trebek was born to host Jeopardy. His brash in-your-face style is perfect for catching these random city folk off guard and often leaves them confused as to what just happened or why they’ve suddenly won a dollar. It’s his quick wit and humor, ridiculous and wacky, that helps make every single unpredictable interaction he has extremely funny and memorable. While the show itself is a hit, Billy is without a doubt a comedic star that’s just starting to shine.

Luckily for us, Billy has taken his talents off the street and back to the Funny or Die website. He has just premiered his new music video for Taylor Swift’s new song “Glitter and Ribs” where he plays Taylor Swift. The music video is absolutely hilarious and spot on, pure Taylor Swift magic, but the best part of the whole thing is the song itself. Between lyrics like “You’ll never know my heart like my heart knows my heart” and "With burgers on the grill and sparkles on my eyes, he served me a fib with a side of lies," Billy might have even out Taylor Swift-ed Taylor Swift with this catchy, sentimental summer jam. Billy from the street even shows up to yell at you to clap your hands. Now, before Kanye shows up to interrupt this post, here’s the video: 

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Tim Tebow is My Hero

by Josh Hamburger

My name is Josh and I love Tim Tebow. I begin the article that way because when I tell people that I love Tim Tebow, they look at me like I have a serious problem. They’re right, I do have a problem, but at least I understand its source: I root for Tim Tebow because he is the embodiment of every sports movie hero. Ever.

There’s no logical reason for me to love – or even like – Tim Tebow. In college, he played for a rival SEC school that beat my Commodores every year, including three times while I was a student (cue the jokes about Vanderbilt being too terrible to be considered a rival or an SEC school). I never liked the Denver Broncos, the New England Patriots, or the New York Jest (that was a typo but I’m leaving it in). I’m not Christian and I don’t wear Jockey underwear.

The two things I do have that combine to form the basis of my love for Tim Tebow are a penchant for sports movies and a human heart.

In this article, I will go over the main arguments against Tim Tebow that have been used to declare him “not an NFL quarterback.” For each point, I will reference sports movies that prove beyond a reasonable doubt that these arguments are bogus and an affront to the romantic philosophy behind the sports narrative.

1. He can’t throw

Obviously, Tim Tebow can throw a football. It’s not like he’s Smalls from THE SANDLOT, literally placing the ball in his receivers’ hands. The argument that he can’t throw is that he doesn’t have the arm strength to be a quarterback in the NFL. Maybe he should channel Henry Rowengartner from ROOKIE OF THE YEAR and break his arm in hopes that it’ll heal into a cannon. Since that probably won’t work, he’s stuck with his unorthodox throwing technique that pundits constantly bash, even though it seems to work. Does this sound familiar? In HAPPY GILMORE, Happy makes a “mockery” of the PGA but even with his unusual approach to driving and his use of a hockey stick to putt, he manages to beat the best golfer ever in Shooter McGavin. Some might say that Buddy from AIR BUD had unorthodox athletic abilities but he proved to be a great basketball player and then went on to excel at football, baseball, soccer, and volleyball. Oh, and did I mention that BUDDY WAS A DOG??? If a dog can play basketball, surely a Heisman Trophy winning quarterback can throw a football.

2. He lacks accuracy

So now you need to be accurate to excel at a position where your main job is to project an object towards a target? Tell that to Ricky “The Wild Thing” Vaughn. Vaughn earned his nickname because of his lack of control in MAJOR LEAGUE, where he was a talented but inaccurate pitcher. Then, he gets glasses and helps his team win a one-game playoff to reach the postseason. In BULL DURHAM, Crash Davis helps Nuke LaLoosh become more accurate and he ends up making the show. What about Fulton Reed’s slapshot  in THE MIGHTY DUCKS? It was far from accurate and potentially dangerous but they still won the championship. Accuracy isn’t a reason that someone can’t excel at a sport. It’s something that can be found and harnessed, whether it’s with eye-glasses, getting tied up by Susan Sarandon, or (when all else fails) practice.

3. He has the intangibles but not the talent

Do I even need to go here? If talent always won out, the Monstars would have beaten the Tune Squad in SPACE JAM and Shawn Bradley would never have gotten his basketball skills back. Based on talent alone, Camp Hope would have no shot against Camp MVP in HEAVYWEIGHTS and Hickory would not have won the state championship in HOOSIERS. Any boxing movie (ROCKY, THE FIGHTER, MILLION DOLLAR BABY, etc.) will show you where you can shove aside “talent” with determination and heart. Perhaps Coach McGinty said it best in THE REPLACEMENTS, when he was asked how his team could come back from a halftime deficit: “Heart. We gotta have heart. Miles and miles of heart.” Then, Shane Falco (the less talented replacement quarterback) enters the game and inspires his team of replacement players to victory over a team of real professional players with his heart. If there’s one thing that Tim Tebow has in spades, it’s heart. That’s something you can’t teach and in sports movies is really the only thing that matters.

4. He’s a glorified cheerleader

People call Tim Tebow a cheerleader because they think that he should stay on the sidelines and give his team moral support rather than actually play in the games. But as any sports movie fanatic knows, cheerleaders are often the best at sports. In LITTLE GIANTS, Becky leaves her cheerleading outfit behind in the middle of the game and forces a fumble that leads her team to victory. Even though “Joanie loves Chachi,” Justin changes out of his cheerleading outfit in DODGEBALL: A TRUE UNDERDOG STORY to help the Average Joes beat Globo Gym. In THE REPLACEMENTS, the cheerleaders even affect the game from the sidelines, when they distract the opposing team and draw a false start penalty. Cheerleaders are an important part of a football team (especially when they’re former strippers) and calling Tebow a cheerleader is not a reason for him to not be a starting quarterback in the NFL.

5. He only plays well at the end of games

On January 8, 2012, Tim Tebow and his Denver Broncos beat the Pittsburgh Steelers in a first-round playoff game in miraculous fashion. Earlier that season, he erased a 15-0 deficit in the final three minutes to beat the Miami Dolphins in overtime. He also came from behind to beat the Jets, Chargers, Vikings, and Bears that season. Tim Tebow has a flair for the dramatic but has been criticized for not playing well until he absolutely has to. I could write two pages detailing sports movies where the characters launch an improbable comeback to win the game but I won’t do that. I’ll just leave you with one movie title that basically sums up this point. If you’ve seen it you’ll know what I’m talking about. If you haven’t, check it out for the best 90 minutes of your life: FULL COURT MIRACLE. You’re welcome.

6. He’s just a distraction

With Tim Tebow comes a lot of drama, since he is a daily topic of conversation on ESPN and his fans will clamor for him to start even if there is a better quarterback on the roster. He has been called a spectacle and a sideshow. Yeah, well so was the Jamaican bobsled team in COOL RUNNINGS. But they proved that they belonged: even though their sled broke and they didn’t medal, they carried the sled across the finish line and became heroes. Gordon Bombay’s celebrity was a distraction for his team in D2: THE MIGHTY DUCKS but he still led his team to victory over Team Iceland. Distractions are often good for teams because eventually they realize that they have to forget about them in order to win.

7. He’s just a backup quarterback

In sports movies, backups are just heroes in waiting. In FRIDAY NIGHT LIGHTS, Jett Jackson (er, Chris Comer) is the third-string running back behind phenom Boobie Miles. When Miles gets injured, Comer gets his shot and excels at the position. In TALLAGEGA NIGHTS: THE BALLAD OF RICKY BOBBY, Ricky’s sidekick Cal Naughton, Jr. is thrust into the spotlight and succeeds on his own (even stealing Ricky’s home and wife in the process.) So what if Tebow is a backup now? If sports movies are any indication, he’ll get his chance and prove that he was the better option the whole time (even if he struggles at first before getting motivated by the coach.) Hey, it’s happened before: Tebow was a backup quarterback who took over a 1-4 team and led them to a division championship and a playoff victory. He even came off the bench to help his Florida Gators win a national championship in college. But, just like in sports movies, this is forgotten by everyone and dismissed as a fluke, until he gets a second chance and shows what he can really do.

Of course, this article has one glaring omission. There’s one sports movie character that I have yet to mention that has a lot in common with our hero. He’s a scrappy football player with loads of heart and determination. Although he isn’t the most technically skilled player, he’s a fan favorite and inspires his team. He’s a bench warmer but he sets out to prove that he can be a football player. Everyone tells him to give up on his dreams but he persists. Fans chant his two-syllable name and demand that he is inserted into the game. When the coach finally puts him in, he somehow makes a miraculous play and is carried off the field. If you haven’t figured it out by now, I’m talking about RUDY. Rudy is the ultimate underdog and the quintessential sports hero. Can’t you just see Sean Austin crying at the podium after losing to Ole Miss??

If you say that Tim Tebow can’t be an NFL quarterback, you’re the bad guy in every one of these movies. You’re the coach that doesn’t see the potential. You’re the pundit declaring our hero down for the count. You’re the opponent that doesn’t take him seriously.

By not allowing Tim Tebow to be a starting quarterback, the NFL is disproving everything that I’ve learned from sports movies. Next thing I know they’ll tell me that the couple doesn’t get together at the end of a romantic comedy, that the superhero is too late to save the world, or that Forrest Gump didn’t actually receive a Purple Heart.

Am I a fool for believing in Tim Tebow? Maybe. But it’s better than the alternative, which is to forget everything I’ve learned from sports movies.

___________________________________________________________________

JOSH HAMBURGER recently received his MFA in Writing and Producing for Television from Long Island University’s TV Writers Studio. When he isn’t writing, he enjoys watching good television shows and rooting for terrible, long-suffering sports franchises. Follow him on Twitter here: @hamburje

[thefreshfunk-blog]

Second ever FFG Podcast! This is the business edition, featuring first time contributor to the FFG Ryan Martin. Ryan is a start-up/business strategy consultant. He's spent stints working with the Mobile Future Institute and the Meat House, among other projects. Ryan holds an MBA from UNH's Whittemore School of Business and a BA from UVM.

[thefreshfunk-blog]

Food for Thought: What's in a Name?

by Alex Smith

From the dawn of television to today’s biggest shows, the characters at the center of all the drama have changed drastically. In the beginning, these shows were broadcast in black and white and the issues at hand shared the same distinction, with a clear cut line between right and wrong. However, with progress, the world began to have a more colored discussion about moral authority and this was inevitably reflected in the views and attitudes of our television heroes. From cops, cowboys, and lawyers to mobsters, killers, and drug dealers, the main characters of these dramas were no longer noble, flawless men in white hats but a shadier bunch of characters that cross lines and yet manage to maintain our sympathy. The heroes of today’s top shows are an unsavory, morally ambiguous group but, despite their flaws, the audience can’t help but love them.

Over time there are tropes and archetypes that not only come to define a genre, but become the parameters around which these shows are built. Just by tuning in, the audience was cued in on the show’s hero and could hold certain expectations for the way they would act. This was never more clear than in Westerns, where the good guy wore a white hat and the bad guys dressed in black. But, as these genres and the stories being told became more complex, the heroes and the traits that defined them became increasingly more unclear. In a world where everyone is spending time in seedy saloons, drinking and gambling, you can no longer tell who’s good or bad just by looking at their hats.

To differentiate between characters by colored hats gives no credit to the complexity of the characters that inhabit our screens today nor to the audience at home, who can figure out who’s bad or good all by themselves. And yet, viewers aren’t left totally stranded in murky waters. There are some tropes that have carried through and help us identify with characters. For one, alliteration.

Alliterative names became a common tool in naming characters in pulp stories and comics and cartoons. Peter Parker (Spiderman), Bruce Banner (The Hulk), Scott Summers (Cyclops), Donald Duck, Wally West (The Flash), Peter Pan, and I could go on. Stan Lee has said that he named his characters this way so that he could actually remember all of the different characters he was working on and, as it turned out, it had the same effect on his readers. The alliteration made these characters instantly memorable. Their names stay with you and helps them seem familiar right off the bat.

But the repetition doesn’t just work on our memories, it also builds a strong foundation for the character. The repeating consonant sounds ring out like a booming bass drum, brimming with power and authority. Go ahead and read that list of alliterative names again. It even works with names that aren’t true alliterations but share the same consonance effect, like Clark Kent. Yes, he’s Superman but even just saying Clark Kent makes a statement about the character. They say don’t trust someone with two first names, but an alliteration? They’re right as rain.

Unfortunately, this trope faded away just as fast as having your hero wear a white hat. It might be due to its association with comic book and cartoon heroes, but it is often considered childish or to be just a gimmick. And yet, alliterative names weren’t just from works of fiction, they were prevalent in popular culture with several famous stars like Ronald Reagan, Marilyn Monroe, Roy Rogers, and Brigitte Bardot shining in the spotlight. But those names, too, would fade from movie marquees.

Since the early days of Peter Parker swinging through the city as your friendly neighborhood Spiderman or Clark Kent as Metropolis’s favorite son, even our comic book heroes have been seeing darker days. Nolan’s Batman trilogy deals with urban terrorism and the Iron Man  franchise is founded on the basis of war profiteering. But now that the television landscape is dominated by drug dealers, seedy ad men, mobsters, and corrupt cops, alliteration has started its comeback.

Walter White and Don Draper.

These are our modern heroes and, although they test the limits of our sympathy, we identify with their flaws and their mistakes and yearn for their redemption. From the very beginning, these are our main characters and these are who we root for. Despite the darkness they live in, despite all of their questionable choices, their names bring us back to a simpler time when the divide between good and bad wasn’t so complex.

Or maybe I’m wrong. Maybe I’m reading too far into the alliteration thing. Maybe it’s just a name. After all, another man with an alliterative name is one of the most evil men in the world, bent on world domination. I’m talking, of course, about Lex Luthor.

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Humanity in Cinema

By Michael Cappuccio

I can’t wait to see the new Superman movie, The Man of Steel, this weekend with my family. And I’m not even that big a fan of Superman personally, I’m just always hoping a new superhero movie turns out well (we dare not speak Green Lantern’s name but in hushed whispers). To most people who know a smidgen about the alien known as Superman, he is essentially as powerful as a god and his only weakness is Kryptonite. But, scouring some forums and comment threads (luckily avoiding all spoilers) many an avid comic fan have pointed out something I never thought about. Kryptonite is a way to physically weaken Superman, sure. But it’s his humanity that is his true Achilles heel. He has a moral code and just like any other human, it’s possible to cause him so much emotional pain that he feels shattered inside.

As I hold my breath that the combo of Zack Snyder as Director and Christopher Nolan as Producer have pulled off a great film, I’ve found myself thumbing through some of my favorite movies and their more powerful scenes. Scenes that give me the goose bumps and a chill down my spine. Scenes that speak to our humanity and remark on our strengths as much as our flaws. Undoubtedly, there are hundreds upon hundreds of movie scenes that could make the cut. But I’ll stick to 3 personal favorites, all of which are speeches, for the time being. Comments are welcome if you wish to educate me on a better scene.

V For Vendetta - The Revolutionary Speech

The plot can get fairly complicated and I’d only muddy the waters if I tried to sum it all up in a few words. But to those who have never seen this film, England has fallen under a very thinly veiled fascist government. Here, we find the titular “V” hijacking the airwaves to address the public and sow the seeds of a revolution.

Inherit The Wind - What Is Holy

A play stylized off of the real events of the Scopes Monkey Trial where a high school teacher, Mr. John Scopes, was accused for teaching evolution in his classroom in Tennessee. Here we see William Jennings Bryan for the prosecution on the stand as he is examined by the defense, Clarence Darrow. This speech, and the last few words of Mr. Darrow, always tugs a heart string.

The Great Dictator - The Final Speech

I can’t claim to know the plot of this film, though its absolutely on my “need-to-watch” list. But the clip has certainly made the rounds on Youtube, often going by “The Greatest Speech Ever Made”. I think I’ll let Charlie Chaplin do the talking.

[thefreshfunk-blog]

Ladies and gents, the first installment ever of the FFG Podcast! Feast your ears on the mindless jokes and the in depth analysis surrounding Warner Bros' Iron Man 3!

[thefreshfunk-blog]

Some Thought Provoking Comics

by Alex Smith

From my days of stealing the funny pages from every newspaper my dad brought home to collecting comic books of all shapes and sizes, I've always loved comics. Reading from panel to panel, enjoying the diverse range of style and content, the engaging artwork, whether it's one panel or 32 pages, comics are an incredible medium for story telling, a wonderful blend of image and narrative. It's usually the work of a small creative team, or even a single person, compared to the small village that it takes to produce a film. They can make you laugh or they can make you think, and plenty of them do both.

As I continue to work towards bringing you The Fresh Funk's first original web comic, I wanted to share two of my favorite comics. These two comics have one very major thing in common. I stumbled upon them on the internet and have no idea who made either one. If anyone knows, please let me know! I'd love to be able to credit them and explore their other work. If you do know, awesome, but if you don't, well, it'll remain an unsolved mystery. Enjoy!

[thefreshfunk-blog]

He Let Go

By Michael Cappuccio

He sat in the passenger seat of her car late at night.

First, her hand found his. Then he swallowed his anxiety and went for the kiss. As quickly as it started, it ended.

He worked up the courage to remark, “... I’m sorry.”

She reassured him with, “No, really, it’s fine” accompanied with a pained smile.

Even with music playing, the car was filled with a strong sense of quiet.

He didn’t want to be trapped inside his head ruminating, so he asked, “How has he been treating you?”

She passed a sly look and replied, “He’s good to me... for the most part.”

“The most part...”

“He’s not perfect, but he does make me happy.”

He let out a deep sigh to cope with the wave of rejection that was sweeping over him. But when he looked back into her eyes he knew it wasn’t that simple.

“Right... Well, maybe I should go?”

“Why would you do that when there’s this beautiful show being put on for us” and she pointed to the stars. She leaned in and put her head on his shoulder. The smell of her hair made his heart race, like an intoxicant he knew he could get addicted to.

As the night came to a close, she drove him back to his car. As he closed the car door she leaned over and asked, “So, will you wait for me?”

He felt off balance, but replied confidently, “No. I can’t promise that. Not anymore than you can to me.”

She broke into a huge smile.

“That’s exactly what I wanted to hear. I love you, you know. But I love another. I can’t have you both to myself. Go find someone who makes you smile as much as you make me. Make her yours.”

She started to drive away while his hand was still grasping the door handle. But he knew what he had to do.

So, he let go.

[thefreshfunk-blog]

Free Falling

by Alex Smith

He burst into the clearing, taking deep breaths of the coast air. With a shrug, he allowed the backpack to fall from his shoulders, catching it, not two inches from the ground, on the tips of his fingers. He took several small sips of his water. The hike had been quick and easy but he must have set a faster pace than he realized since there was no sign of Ginger behind him.  He checked his watch. They still had a half hour before the sun would set.

Looking out over the cliff side, the lake was completely still and, across the water, he could see the tinges of autumn in the landscape. Amidst the green were hints of yellow and red. Had the Summer really gone by so fast?      

“Sorry, Fred. Stopped to smell the roses.”     

She took the bottle of water from Fred’s hand and laid a delicate kiss on his cheek.  She was wearing khaki shorts that hugged her hips and an olive green tank that made her brown eyes shine. Fred followed her eyes out over the lake and watched her chest heave as she breathed in the view.

“It’s beautiful.”

“Yes, you are.”

Ginger laughed as Fred smiled. After a moment, he took off his shirt and tossed it onto his bag. He walked over to the edge of the clearing where Ginger was leaning against a dense oak. He kissed her, a passionate kiss that didn’t last nearly long enough. “Be right back,” he told her and took off running towards the edge.

“I love you, Fred!” she yelled as he leaped. He disappeared over the sightline of the cliff and his voice trailed off as he fell into the lake. She couldn’t be sure if he had said “I love you too” or “I know” or simply let out a cry of excitement. She ran to the edge and looked down. His plummet had set the entire lake into motion, the ripples of the waves letting her know exactly where he had entered the water thirty five feet below. His head emerged a moment later, but not soon enough for her mind to race with worry and doubt. “I love you,” she whispered.

Fred had climbed back up the trail along the side of the cliff but when he made it back to the clearing there was no sign of Ginger. He picked up his shirt to wipe his face and found a letter sitting there atop his bag. He perched on the edge of the cliff, his legs dangling, and read the letter as the sun set.

                         ***** 

Fred had read Ginger’s letter countless times since she left, having stashed it permanently in the inside pocket of his jacket. He would never forget their time together, because, of course, he could never forget her. Whenever he would chance upon a map, or a globe, he would wonder just where on Earth she was and what she was doing. Her letter had divulged that her trip to see him had been a launching pad to even further travels. She could not tell him where she was going or what she would do once she got there because, she claimed, to have no idea herself. She went on to explain that she left the letter as a way to not say goodbye, her leaving was not a goodbye. She promised that no matter how far she had gone the connection between them would never falter and that one day she would be back. Whenever he read the letter, Fred longed to be able to look into her eyes, hold her hand, watch her sleep, make her laugh, just one last time, and he couldn’t help but wonder that if she did return and they were once again locked in embrace, would there still remain a distance? He put it back in its comfortable residence within his pocket. Tucked behind Ginger’s letter was another one, one written by Fred. It was the eighth attempt and the only one to not wind up as a crumpled mass of loose leaf in his waste bin.  It was a letter hoping to be delivered, to be read and reread, just waiting for an address. 

Ginger,

I don’t think it really took Newton to tell us that things fall. Yeah sure, getting up in that tree and dropping apples is a great example of the scientific method but all he had to do was pay attention. Something is falling every season.  It’s nature. Autumn has its leaves; leaves of splendid color falling from the trees at their own pace. With winter comes the blanketing snow; intricate works of frozen art covering the earth like freshly laundered sheets of powder. When spring rolls around and the heavens heat up, the rain falls in cases of torrential downpour. And in summer, it’s me that falls. I’m always falling in love in summer. It’s inevitable, it’s nature.

And falling in love is just like a free fall. The sensation of being head over heels, your stomach riding high in your chest, high above your heart, just as if you’ve leapt off a cliff. You seemingly fall for an eternity before finally hitting the water. It’s exhilarating and terrifying. It can be initiated as easily as catching the eye of a pretty woman and her reciprocation of your clumsy smile.

And yet, I hesitate. I stand at the edge of the cliff and stare at the serene water below me, convinced there’s no way I’ll make it down there by simply leaping. Convinced the waters aren’t as calm as they look but, in actuality, under the surface lay a myriad of threats waiting to drag me to the bottom and hold me among the muck, never to emerge again. I hesitate. I hesitate for what might seem like hours, maybe even days. I hesitate, but then I jump. I always jump. And I fall, I always fall.      

       Still falling,

                    Fred

[thefreshfunk-blog]

Modern Comedians

by Alex Smith

Last night, I was lucky enough to attend a taping for Season 4 of John Oliver’s New York Stand Up Show. If you’re not familiar with the show, John Oliver, the Daily Show correspondent who will be filling in for Jon Stewart this summer, hosts a showcase of stand up comics ranging from rising talents to established stars. It was an awesome night with a ton of laughs and a great group of comedians. My favorite part of the whole experience was getting to see ten comedians in one night and being able to see how diverse comedy really is.

There are enough cliches about stand up comics that you can probably come up with a prototypical stand up comedian standing in front of a red brick wall in your mind, but what’s the deal with that? The truth is, when you get to thinking about all of the famous comedians, there are no two that are really alike. Except maybe the Sklar brothers, but they’re twins. The thrill of discovering a new comedian is the exhilaration of hearing new material, new ways of delivery, and new approaches to the craft.

It is impossible to provide just one answer to the question “What is funny?”  and that’s why you’ll see such a variety in comedy acts. A comedians arsenal has such a wide range of techniques that no two sets should ever be the same. One liners, observational humor, anecdotal comedy and any variation in between. Comedians can involve the crowd, pose questions, philosophize. They can share a long story from their youth or make up something that happened to them that morning. They can sing a song, do a skit, use props, do impressions. They can use their relationships or interactions with complete strangers. They can draw from their real lives or they can entirely make things up. The possibilities are endless and they’re just hoping that when they get to the punchline, or to the end of a story, there’s a payoff. Laughs. Lots of them.

Although they are trying to stay in the audiences good graces and get laughs, these are not jesters just trying to appease some king. These are individuals, unique people with their own problems and outlooks on and off the stage. With the great comedians, their personalities and their idiosyncrasies shine through their act and we get to know them a bit. But how much can you really get to know someone in a 5 minute set or even an hour long special. Luckily, there’s an amazing web series, Modern Comedian, that allows fans to see a whole new side to some of their favorite comedians. Through candid interviews we get past the “act” and learn a bit more about where their material comes from and what their lives are like off stage. Just like John Oliver’s show, Modern Comedian covers rising talent and established comedians like Jim Gaffigan, Todd Glass, Sara Schaefer, Chris Gethard and more.

I’ve always loved stand up and, although I’m still very far off from getting on stage myself, discovering this web series, getting to see behind the scenes, and getting to know these comedians a little better, really added a whole new level of enjoyment for me. Check it out!

[thefreshfunk-blog]

Remi's Deep Sleep

by Julio Cortázar

translated by David Shames

They were already on their way. Many times before he had imagined their footsteps, first distant and soft and then hard and nearby, slowing in the last few feet with a final hesitation. The door opened and he didn’t hear the familiar screech of the key; he was waiting, attentively, for the moment he would join them to face his executioners.

The sentence formed in his mind before it left the warden’s lips. So many times before he had suspected that only would thing could be said in that moment, something simple and clear that would sum it all up. He heard it.

 “It’s time, Remi.”

The pressure on his arms was firm without being harsh. He felt himself whisked away as if for a stroll through the corridor, he looked at a few silhouettes outlined behind the bars which suddenly demanded an immense yet horribly futile importance, the importance of simply being silhouettes that were alive, that would move for much time to come. The main hall, which he had never seen before (but Remi knew it from his imagination, and it was exactly as he had pictured it), a stairway without banisters (the guards were holding him up on either side), and up, up…

He felt the noose. They released him and, for a moment, he remained totally alone and free in a huge silent void. Then he just wanted to get it over with, just as when he was a kid, when he had flashed forward to the end in his head; in the final instant he pondered the possible feelings that might strike him when they would open the hatch a second later. Falling into a black pool or just the slow and agonizing asphyxiation or maybe something else that wouldn’t be a satisfying figment of his imagination; something defective, insufficient…

Fed up, he removed from his neck the hand he had thought to be the rope; another stupid comedy, another nap lost to his sick imagination. He rose from the bed looking for his cigarettes for the sole purpose of doing something, anything; the taste of his last cigarette still lingered in his mouth. He lit the match, studying the flame until it almost burned his fingertips; the flame danced in his eyes. Next he vainly studied his reflection in the mirror. Time to shower, to call up Morella and tell her about their meeting with Mrs. Belkis. Another wasted nap; the idea tormented him like a mosquito, he tried to swat it away. Why hadn’t time just swept away all these traces of his childhood, the tendency to think of himself as some sort of hero, and, in a bout of afternoon drowsiness, build up some illusion where death waited for him at the foot of a walled city or atop a gallows?

As a child: pirate, Gallic warrior, Sandokan, considering love to be an endeavor where death was the only appropriate trophy. As an adolescent he envisioned himself wounded and sacrificed- nap time revolutions, admirable downfalls where a fallen comrade won his freedom in exchange for his own life! –always capable of entering into the shadows through the elegant trapdoor of his last words, a final sentence he loved to fashion, remember, have ready… There were a few established scenarios:

a)      The revolution where Hilario confronted him from the opposite trench. Stages: the taking of the trench, trapping Hilario, a meeting at the crux of destruction, then the self-sacrifice of switching uniforms and letting Hilario slip away, a suicidal gunshot to cover their tracks.

b)      Morella’s attempted rescue (this one was always imprecise): on his deathbed, a futile surgical intervention, Morella taking his hands and crying, a magnificent goodbye, a kiss from Morella on his forehead.

c)      An execution spectacle watched by the whole town as they congregated around the moat, an illustrious victim of regicide or high treason, Sir Walter Raleigh, Álvaro de Luna, etc. Last words (the sounding of the drums cutting off Louis XVI’s voice), the executioner in front of him, a magnificent, scornful smile (Carlos I), the public in a stupor, caught up in admiration for such heroism.

  He had just returned from a daydream such as this last one- sitting on the edge of his bed he still stared at the mirror, upset –as if he wasn’t 35 years old, as if it wasn’t idiotic to keep on with these infantile daydreams, as if it wasn’t way too hot to let his imagination run wild with all these fabricated plights. Variation of this last nap: a private execution, at a London jail where they hang people quickly without many witnesses. A sordid end, but worthy of relishing slowly; he looked at the clock and it was ten past four. Another squandered afternoon…  

Why not talk with Morella? He punched the number, still feeling the bad residue of naps, the groggy aftertaste of not having really slept but rather having just conjured up a version of his death as he had done so many times as a kid. When somebody picked up on the other line, it seemed to Remi that the voice who said ‘Hello?’ belonged not to Morella but to a man. There was a muffled whisper when he said ‘Morella?’ and then there was her sharp fresh voice, with the same greeting as always, only now there was something less spontaneous about it precisely because it came to Remi with an unfamiliar spontaneity.

Exactly ten blocks from Greene Street to Morella’s. Two minutes by car. But hadn’t he told her, ‘I’ll see you at 8 at Mrs. Belkis’ house?’ When he arrived, nearly throwing himself out of the cab, it was 4:15. He entered through the living room, went up to the second floor, stopped outside the bedroom door, opened it without knocking. He heard Morella’s scream before actually seeing her. There was Morella with Lieutenant Dawson, but only Morella cried out upon seeing the gun. To Remi it felt like the scream was his own, a howl shattering in his clenched throat.

The body stopped trembling. The executioner felt for a pulse by the ankles. The witnesses were already leaving.