Flick's Tab

5 Sixty 8

Flick here.

I've always loved cowboys. Over the years, the reason for my love has changed. At first it was the ability to shoot all the bad guys dead. When teenage angst rolled around, the freedom of living by my own rules was very appealing. A little older, I realized no one ordered drinks in a cooler fashion. A little older, the brotherhood of cowboy camaraderie. A little older, the legacy a cowboy can leave behind.

And you got to wear awesome hats.

As my drinking ways have matured, I've come to realize that cowboys had it easy. They stepped into a saloon, approached the bar and said, "one." Maybe they pointed a finger to the sky. It all makes for a very confident and important moment.

However, compare the bars of today to the saloons of yesteryear. There's a good chance there's only one bottle behind that cowboy's bar. Or there's plenty of bottles...of the same whiskey.

Today's bars are filled with options. Some offer their own drinking menus. It's easy to feel overwhelmed.

Poor Benjamin Braddock felt overwhelmed too. The clip above is from the fantastic movie The Graduate. Dustin Hoffman plays Benjamin Braddock, who is about to embark on an affair if he can pull himself together long enough to enjoy it. Everyone has this ideal personification of cool running around in their heads. For me it was a cowboy. Others believe in James Bond. How many people in the world order martini's just because they feel cool ordering them.

I knew a guy who would only order Roman Cokes. Not Rum and Coke. Roman cokes. He didn't even like them. He just happened to be out one night and a pretty girl ordered him one. It had been the best night off his life. Even though the night did not end in marriage, he continued to order Roman cokes. I believe, like many of us, he was trying to recreate that wonderful time. Unfortunately for him, he had misheard the pretty girl. Enough bartenders and waiters started to laugh in his face, that his confidence spiralled downward. 

For a period of time he swore off alcohol. Once again, he was associating a single emotion with the rest of his life.

Next time you order, just make sure you pronounce it right. Rum and Coke, I told him.

But I don't want a Rum and Coke. I hate them. I want a Cosmopolitan, he said.

Then order a Cosmopolitan, I said.

But what if the bartender doesn't know how to make it?

And there's the rub. Just like Dustin Hoffman above, sometimes we all feel as if life has to be in complete control. Just because I love a drink, it doesn't mean I should be able to step behind the bar and start making them for the crowd. There's plenty of food that I love, but I'll never be able to reproduce their amazing flavor in my own kitchen.

Bars can be scary places because we've managed to trick ourselves into believing everyone knows what they're doing (or drinking). A tip to the wise, this is a very incorrect assumption. Most of them are drunk. That's why they're standing at the bar waving money in the bartenders face. The group sitting at the table next to you discussing the ins and outs of porters and stouts are just recalling a recently read magazine article of which their accuracy is questionable at best. A good percentage of those James Bond wannabe's have no idea if there's Gin or Vodka in the martini's they're drinking. Or which does Bond prefer. 

Confidence is an attribute that is gained through life's experiences, but you can cheat at it too. The best approach is to figure out what you want, ask for it and be polite. In other words step up to the bar and make eye contact with the bartender before any idea of shouting an order comes to mind. Knowing what you want, let the bartender know. If the bartender asks any questions you're unable to answer then ask for advice. You might find out that the bartender hates making cosmopolitans because the bar's owner buys cheap vodka. This little bit of advice might have just saved your night. What we as a people hate to remember is that we are surrounded by people just like ourselves. That bartender wants you to enjoy your drink, because everyone wants repeat business. It means more money and it also means they're doing a good job. Be sure to compliment your bartender.

Take care of your bartender and they will take care of you. They are the most interesting people you will ever talk to or miss out on talking with.

Until next time. Drink up.

Cosmopolitan

2 ounces vodka

1 ounce Cointreau

1 ounce cranberry juice

1 ounce lime juice

Shake ingredients well with cracked ice, then strain into a chilled cocktail glass

Read more: http://www.esquire.com/drinks/cosmopolitan-drink-recipe#ixzz1qv4TsHWW

Total Recall has been Recalled

We Can Remember It for Wholesale

 Has the outrage begun yet? I doubt it. I'm a little early. The official trailer has just hit the Apple website. The TV spots haven't started yet. But it will happen. When it does I'm sure everyone my age will be annoyed.

"I can't believe they're remaking Total Recall!"

You're right, I can't believe they're remaking a movie that was adapted from a book. I guess since so many people don't read (especially science fiction), adaptations probably don't count as a remake.

So I guess, in a sense it is an outrage they're remaking Total Recall. I loved that movie. Schwarzenegger's movie came out 22 years ago and it's still easy to quote from the movie. There are plenty of scenes that everyone seems to remember. The fake head disassembling. The eyes bulging on the surface of Mars. Most importantly, it was probably the first time you ever saw a woman with three tits.

How can anyone want to remake something so loved by the people?

It's pretty simple actually. The movie is 22 years old. The latest generation of movie watchers watch this film and wonder what the hell we are smoking. To them, any film made before the year 2000 might as well be archived with the first efforts in film making. The same way we can watch the car chases in Bullit or the French Connection and yawn.

Our generation might have a soft spot for Arnold, but today's action movies are about realistic fighting, mind melting CGI effects and action stars who would rather say nothing than tag lines.

In fact, generational remakes are nothing new. It seems that every year, someone has a new take on A Christmas Carol or fantasy tales such as Cinderella. American filmmakers often remake foreign films. The Departed and The Ring are examples. Even Three Men and a Baby was a remake of a French film. John Carpenter's The Thing, Soderbergh's Ocean's Eleven, Scarface, Invasion of the Body Snatchers and the Coen Brother's True Grit are all remakes that I don't want to live without. Google a list of remakes and try to argue that remakes are a bad thing.

Instead I view remakes as a high compliment. Who hasn't shared a buddy's story with their own words? Sometimes the retelling is done better than the first. Sometimes it's better than the actual event. Charlie Murphy telling a story is guaranteed better than the actual event.

As I stated earlier, Total Recall was an adaptation of a Philip K. Dick story called "We Can Remember It for Wholesale". PKD's stories are known for blending an unhealthy amount of skepticism and paranoia with science fiction concepts. Blade Runner, Screamers, Minority Report, Paycheck, A Scanner Darkly, Next, and The Adjustment Bureau are all film adaptations of his work. Some are successes, while others are failures. However, all of them have interesting concepts that make audiences want to like them. Total Recall is no exception.

And that's my (pre)objection to anyone who doesn't want the latest reincarnation of Total Recall to succeed. While Arnold's version will always be a great representation of the 80's action genre, perhaps this remake can be the paranoia filled tale that PKD fans enjoy.

Whatever happens, I'll always root for an excellent Science Fiction movie. Please don't be another Paycheck. Please.

1990 trailer

2012 teaser trailer (Sony is not sharing the full trailer just yet. Check it out at http://trailers.apple.com/trailers/sony_pictures/totalrecall/  or click my Twitter link located on the right side of this blog.)

UPDATED...HERE'S THE OFFICIAL TRAILER

Flick's Friday Fights

Flick's Friday Fights

Just saw Haywire the other day. I'm a big Soderbergh fan. This is not his best work, but it was completely enjoyable and full of great fights. Credit to where credit is due...Gina Carano. She is a retired MMA fighter and after her watching her destroy her male colleagues in Haywire, I would not be surprised (or upset) to see her in many movies to come.

What made the movie truly enjoyable was that Gina Carano was allowed to play a complex female character and actually looked like someone who could take care of herself. I'm tired of being subjected to movies that are afraid of real women action stars. If she's kicking ass, she shouldn't look like she's afraid to eat a sandwich.

In honor of you Gina...

This is her first MMA fight. Don't blink.

A lot of respect for Kaitlin Young in this fight.

Ignore the obnoxious announcers and enjoy the ground game

The first five minutes of Haywire

Flick's Friday Fights

A New Sound

What's That Noise?

When was the last time you tried to find a new sound to listen to?

I don't mean the last time you clicked on an artists name because they came up as a "people also listen to this". I don't mean the band your best friend has been raving about. I don't mean the really obscure local band that plays house parties all your co-workers get drunk to.

When was the last time you wanted to find a new sound to listen to and you didn't even know where to start?

The music industry has tried to make this easy for us. Try to watch a music video without seeing a list of options with similar sounds. Buy a song online without without recommendations popping up. Even old school physical albums were placed in genre groups giving you the opportunity to spend your money on something else you should enjoy.

I've found plenty of music this way. Everyone has. 

What about the music that seemed to find you? The albums and songs that seeped into your life and never let go. Sometimes the world wants us to listen to something specific.  

It's hard to believe that my life existed without bands such as Interpol or Modest Mouse. Neither of these bands came from Internet searches or from friends. These bands gave me no choice. One day they didn't exist for me and then they were everywhere. I noticed them in movies, referenced in a book or being played on some one's radio. Their names and rhythms never left me and turned into downloads to my IPod.

The past few weeks, my subconscious has been telling me I need new music. I know this because I'm suddenly looking up three bands on Youtube and I have no idea where they came from. All I know is that I'm enjoying them so far and I wonder if there will come a time in my life where I wonder why it took me so long?

Dawes

I saw a tweet from a hockey writer saying people are crazy if they don't download this song from Dawes and spend the weekend listening to it. So I did...six months later. I'm not sure what reminded me that, "hey...I never looked up that band." What appeals to me are the raw sounding lyrics attached to an old school rock and roll beat.

Yeah Yeah Yeahs

Female rock stars should rule the Earth. Karen O is at ease while commanding your attention. This is never more evident than with her cover of Immigrant Song (see below). The intensity belongs on the world stage, but their songs lead you into a fantasy of being the one to discover this band at some unknown bar hidden away from the world.

The Pixies

I should be shot. The Pixies? Their music has been in my life for most of it and I was just ignorant. I apologize.

Flick's Tab

The Lieutenant's Drink

Flick here.

Sometimes you sit at a bar and find out you're not the most interesting person that night. In fact, there might only be two of you drinking and you come in third.

A while back, this happened to me.

I say a while back because I'm too old to remember when.

I was sitting at my favorite bar in Buffalo called Wilshire's. My pals and I were regulars, but that night it was just myself. It was a slow night and I had outlasted the other diners. However, just as the bartender declared Last Call, an elderly gent like myself pulled up a stool near by and ordered a Black Russian.

"Black Russian. Dirty."

The bartender looked annoyed, not only by the late comer ordering their first during Last Call, but he also didn't know what a Dirty Black Russian was. I didn't either.

I was intrigued. The seniors that frequented Wilshire's usually lived at Starbright Tower, which is where I lived. This man was not from there. He wore a suit that was military crisp and form fitting. And his right pinkie finger was severed at the middle joint.

Then there was the matter of his drink. What makes a Black Russian dirty?

When the bartender asked the same question, he was answered with a calm declaration from a man who has explained his "dirty" for his entire life. There was no enthusiasm of a college kid trying to recreate a drunk Thursday. No annoyance of the entitled.

"Cola."

You might think that all of these details spurred me strike up a conversation with this man, but I simply sat there and pretended not to watch him.

His hands rested on the bar and when his drink arrived, he simply lifted it and sniffed. After he was satisfied with the aroma, he placed the drink back on the bar and watched it. I sat there and watched them both.

Nothing happened. The drink sat there and waited to be drunk. The man sat there and waited to drink it.

I thought there must have been something wrong with how the bartender had prepared it and words left my mouth before I could catch them.

"It's why I order drinks I don't have to explain," I said.

"It's the first drink I never had and it'll be the last drink I never had," he said and then he turned to me with a grin. "This one and all the others are just impostors."

"It's a little late to be so cryptic," I said.

"Not cryptic, I'm just being honest. This is the only drink I ever order."

"Do you ever drink it?" I thought I was being funny, but when he didn't respond I realized how insensitive I had appeared. "Your drink is on me, but first you have to tell me why you only order a Dirty Black Russian."

There was a long hesitation, but he told his story. There were no hand gestures or facial expressions. He didn't elaborate any details, nor did he back track on his story. This was the story that had defined his life.

He had been a lieutenant in the second war and lost in Belgium. In their attempt to reconnect with Allied Forces, he had led the remains of his platoon to a town overflowing with enemy soldiers. They fled, but were followed by a tenacious group of Germans. For the best part of two weeks, they played a deadly game of cat and mouse. They suffered casualties and it seemed the German group only grew in numbers.

Every day, they could see the Germans gaining ground. Every night they feared closing their eyes. Then one afternoon, they crossed a river and the Germans disappeared. For three days they were followed by no one. It was at once more terrifying. The Germans who had been behind them, could now be anywhere.

On the fourth day, they came across another town. This time he had his men surround the town and simply watch its people for the rest of the day. When no Germans were spotted in the town or approaching, it was decided they would introduce themselves. 

Still fearing for the lives of his men, the lieutenant ordered them to stand guard in their positions around the town's perimeter. With a breath of courage, he walked into the town alone. He was greeted politely by civilians, but none stopped to speak with him. When he tried to approach anyone, they would point in the direction of the pub.

With nowhere else to go, he entered the pub and spoke with the bartender. The man spoke a few words of English and managed to assure the lieutenant that the town's leader, who spoke perfect English, was on his way.

With nothing to do but wait, the lieutenant sat down at the bar. It was an odd feeling. He had never been in a bar before. His parents were stout, dry Christians and he had been raised the same. However, he had always marveled at tales of men drinking their cocktails and his friends swapping stories of their fathers' whiskey.

The bartender must have been unaware of such a practice as dry Christianity, because he never asked the lieutenant if he wanted something to drink. He just prepared him one anyway. It was only polite.

The lieutenant watched with rapt attention as the bartender place a glass in front of him and added a handful of ice. He covered the ice with a strong smelling clear liquid and then added another that turned the drink brown. The lieutenant recognized the third ingredient as a child's cola. The bartender slid the drink a few inches closer to the lieutenant and turned his palms up, signaling his work was finished.

There was a moment of doubt. There was a moment that he thought of his parents. He thought of how the good Lord had protected him through these past troubling days.

He thought of his troops hidden around the town waiting for the safe haven he was now enjoying. He should have shared that drink with them.

Then he he began to wonder how delicious the drink would taste. He thought about the cold ice as he reached out his hand. The ice exploded as a bullet tore his finger from his hand and shattered the glass. While the first bullet found his drink, the second bullet killed the bartender. A third shot was fired and tore the head off his would-be assassin. One of his soldiers had saved his life.

Fears subsided when it turned out the German was alone. He had been secretly living in the town butcher's house. When the butcher had disappeared, everyone assumed he had run off to find his missing family. It turned out, he had been murdered and was lying dead under his bed.

During his short stay, the lieutenant inquired about the bartender and his drink. The town knew it well and though many people offered to recreate it, the lieutenant turned down their offers. The image of the sinful, but enticing drink was so strong in his mind, he feared their attempts would never lived up to that bartender's perfect creation.

Although the memory of the drink haunted him, he managed to return to his strict and dry Christian lifestyle. But a few years after the war had ended, he found himself walking into bars and ordering the drink.

"I never drank it," he said. "I would just sit there and remember those men. I would remember that drink and how I selfishly decided to drink alone. That drink...my finger...those were punishments for my sin."

I had been so engrossed by the man's story, that I failed to realize the young bartender had joined me in listening. Without a word, the two of us watched as the man stood from his seat and placed a tip worth three Dirty Black Russians on the bar, before leaving.

We looked at each other for awhile. We looked at the drink as well.

"What should I do with it?" the young bartender asked, finally finding the courage to speak.

"You leave it alone," I said. "But, he paid for two more. One for you and one for me."

Until next time. Drink up.

Dirty Black Russian

1 1/2 oz Vodka

3/4 oz Kahlua or coffee liquor

cola

ice

Pour Vodka and Kahlua over ice. Top with cola. Cherry garnish optional.

OU Bobcats motivational Speech

My broomball team always listened to this video before our games...before winning the championship! Our Men's and Women's teams were dominate. I need say nothing more.

Doesn't matter if you're playing or not, this speech will get your blood going...

"...the six inches in front of your face!"



Flick's Friday Fights

Flick's Friday Fights

In honor of the Sweet Sixteen match up between my OU Bobcats and UNC, here are some basketball shenanigans to get us pumped up. OU needs to bring this type of emotion tonight. Go Bobcats!

Flick's Friday Fights