Posted by SCORP #8 on Sat, Feb 27, 2010 @ 09:08 AM
Maybe it's because the SCORPs are just coming off a discussion of some of the kinky-ass shit that goes on in Sweden as depicted in THE GIRL WITH THE DRAGON TATTOO but the Winter Olympic Games are-despite Bob Costas and his hair-getting high marks as SCORP-worthy entertainment. Nearly every event in the Olympics seems like it originated because two or three drunk Scandinavians with some serious sadomasochist tendencies decided to have a pissing contest in the snow or on a sheet of ice. Seriously-what do they drink in the great white north of Europe? The sports now seem-as trash was talked over generations, rules were refined, and American's got involved-that each challenge in Vancouver has become either dangerous, ridiculous or better done stoned (see Snowboarding). A simple toboggan ride now exceeds 90mph, keeping score in curling (basically shuffleboard on ice) is more complicated than Avril Lavigne's (Canadian) boyfriend, and the crashes in downhill and during speed skating were painfully spectacular. All and all, exactly the type of outcome all SCORPION challenges hope to achieve.
And of course, the Winter Olympics is also the home of the biathlon-the ultimate SCORP Olympic event. Skiing AND shooting a rifle? (Granted, if they added a drinking component every 50m and released a mountain lion to stalk competitors it would make things much better). Not only is the idea of the biathlon balls-to-the-wall, but it also lends itself to awesome low-budget power-chord accompanied videos on You Tube by Eastern Europeans and Americans alike. Enjoy a few samples Here and Here.
Oh, and one more thing: USA! USA! USA! USA!
Posted by El Spaniard on Sun, Feb 21, 2010 @ 07:33 PM
We've been (slowly) putting up some reviews of past books and meetings to share what it's like to be in the SCORPS with you civilians out there. The most recent two are for The Power and the Glory and Licensed to Kill. Check them out:
The Power and the Glory by The Judge
Licensed to Kill by the Spaniard
Posted by MC Trouble on Thu, Feb 18, 2010 @ 10:32 AM
What Makes a Great Book Club Meeting?
The SCORPS have been at it for two years now; we've had strong meetings and we've had a couple weak showings. This past week we had a subpar gathering - by SCORP standards - which got me thinking about what drives a good book club meeting.
Obviously the actual book selection is an important factor in a solid discussion. However, arguably the best SCORP-up to date followed our least sophisticated literary selection, MEG. And, to that point, the subject of this past week's lackluster meeting was The Girl With The Dragon Tattoo, a whirlwind thriller with 590 action-packed pages to dissect.
The common theme that exists for our best sessions is that they were planned around some sort of event. And our poorest meetings (i.e., playing video lawn darts at arguably the lamest bar in town) have been thrown together last minute.
Our best assemblies, in my opinion, are as follows:
1. Location: Medieval Manor Book: MEG
This place advertised and delivered a cheesy theatrical performance, awful food (with no utensils), and endless pitchers of ale. The crowd is encouraged to get rowdy but no party reached the level of inappropriateness attained by the SCORPS. Inevitably an intra-table food fight broke out with vicious attacks occurring every time the lights were dimmed. The icing on the cake was a post-show, alleyway rumble that left the SCORP stamp on this venue.
2. Location: Manchester Firing Line Range Book: The Power and The Glory
Guns. Adrenaline. Guns. The interesting part about having a book club meeting at a firing range is that everyone is required to wear a headset, disallowing any verbal communication. Although we eventually discussed the book over a beer after the range, the conversation inevitably came back to the exhilaration of firing a semi-automatic firearm.
3. Location: Wonderland Greyhound Park Book: McMafia
The thrill of gambling on dogs combined with the hygiene of the track's patrons made for an entertaining evening. Although I don't believe any of us netted money, this was time well spent.
Whenever possible, SCORP-meets should involve some sort of event like a beer tasting, a casino, a rodeo, or strippers. This assures the energy level is high, the discussion is heated, and most importantly, the competition is fierce.
Posted by El Spaniard on Fri, Jan 22, 2010 @ 11:17 AM
Blog Post by SLAYER - Montana-based SCORP and all around tough guy
Being a true Scorp is somewhat like being a true Fu-Schnick; you may not know what it is but you definitely know it when you see it. Not too long ago I was having dinner at a little restaurant in Livingston, Montana when I noticed a picture on the wall of author Jim Harrison. Now, Harrison is a local and well-known eater so it wasn't that the picture was on the wall that caught my attention. No, it was the visage staring at me from the wall. There is no ignoring that unkempt mane, his weathered face and the stare that juxtaposes one piercing eye and one blind one. All of it reads Scorp.
Obviously you can't judge a book, or an author, by its cover, so that there has to be something more, a story behind that lived-in face. Am I right? I mean that bad eye. Harrison lost sight in it when a girl shoved a broken bottle in his face when he was seven-years-old. SEVEN! From there he, like all good Scorps, melded a blue collar upbringing in rural Michigan with the cerebral undertakings of being an English professor and writing poetry. With his 1978 publication of Legends of the Fall, a collection of three novellas including the title piece, Harrison came into his own. Not only did it bring him to the attention of the literary world at-large, but it also brought him a boat load of cash, thanks to the film rights of all three stories being snapped up by Hollywood . From there Harrison did what any self-respecting starving artist, or Scorp, would do - he blew his windfall on booze, coke and strippers. Can I get an Amen from the Congregation! After carousing with the likes Jack Nicholson and writing the severely disappointing screenplay for the Jack's film Wolf, Harrison thankfully ditched L.A. before his heart exploded. He headed back to Michigan and then to his current home in Montana 's Paradise Valley, where he hunts and fishes and eats that which he catches and kills. Somehow he fits in time to write.
And it is Harrison 's writing that defines him as a Scorpion par excellence. If you only know him from the movie adaption of Legends of the Fall, don't be dismayed. His characters are no pretty-boy Brad Pitts. They are rough and tough guys who have, in the words of author Barry Hannah (Geronimo Rex; High Lonesome), "savage grace." Because he comes from the Midwest and writes about guys that fish, hunt, fight, eat, drink, screw, wander, love nature and generally live on the edge of society, Harrison often gets compared to Hemingway, but the real men in Harrison's books are the characters who you always wish would who show up to beat up the wanna-be, Ivy League tough guys that Papa always wrote about.
More importantly, Harrison,unlike Ernie, loves women. I mean llllllllaaaaaaahhhhhhhhvvvvvvvvssssssss ‘em. I haven't read anything this side of Penthouse Forum that celebrates the female ass like Harrison 's work. For instance, in his recent novel The English Major, even the 60-year-old Cliff gets some from a younger woman ("...her panties drawn up fetchingly in her butt crack. This was a fanny that could start a war and I was felt blessed that I had use of it.") And the chicks aren't only there for fun. Harrison best novel, Dalva, has a woman title character that is every bit as tough as any of Harrison 's male character but still maintains a likability and femininity that Hemingway never developed in any of female leads. Women, men, dogs, birds. It doesn't matter. Whatever Harrison writes about comes to life.
So Harrison covers all the bases - looks, life, literary legacy - needed to give him the Scorp seal of approval. And if all this doesn't make you want to go out and read one of his books then, unlike Jim, maybe you aren't Scorp material.
(Harrison 's most recent collection of novellas The Farmer's Daughter was published in December.)
Posted by El Spaniard on Thu, Jan 14, 2010 @ 09:19 AM
While the rest of the Scorpions are battling with the shit-on-the-bottom-of-your-shoe mess of Inherent Vice I used some holiday cash to stock up the bookshelf with some new reads that I thought I'd share with our loyal reader base (of 4 people):
Mason & Dixon by Thomas Pynchon - Epic fiction around the lives of the guys who lined the border between PA and MD and a handful of other states. Actually bought this one in tandem with Inherent Vice, but haven't got into it too much. Pynchon wrote this one in 18th century dialect before venturing into stoner speak for IV. Almost 800 pages so going to be a long one. Compare it to Shantaram which I've been reading for like 3 years off and on.
Suffer in Silence by David Reid - Fiction set around Navy SEAL BUD/s and Hell Week.
The Road by Cormac McCarthy - Everyone and their mother is reading this but I liked No Country and Blood Meridian so finally going to take this down.
American Lion: Andrew Jackson in the White House by Jon Meacham - I'm one of the few SCORPS who reads non-fiction more than fiction. Heard good things about this one and he's tougher than any other President we'll see again.
The Prize: The Epic Quest for Oil, Money and Power by Dan Yergin - Geopolitical nonfiction about the most important element of the global economy written by an energy consultant with deep industry ties
The Sun Also Rises, Hemingway - Been wanting to read more of his since Have or Have Not
Homage to Catalonia by George Orwell - Orwell went to Spain to cover the civil war and instead ended up joining the fight against the Facists. Would Dan Brown do that?
Posted by MC Trouble on Wed, Jan 13, 2010 @ 08:30 AM
After 120 pages of Thomas Pynchon's book, Inherent Vice, I am completely underwhelmed. To be honest, I don't think I can possibly make it any further. In my estimation, this is the worst book the Scorps have selected to date - worse than McMafia and worse than Youth In Revolt. Here are a couple of reasons why this book failed to capture me:
1. The main character is a loser: Doc is such a f'n tool. If I'm going to get excited about a book I need to be rooting for a badass. Right from the start Doc came across as a waste of space. I like the whole stoner detective thing but so far he is getting owned by everyone he interacts with.
2. Too many characters to remember: Like all (Editor's Note: just him) Scorps, I drink and watch TV while I read. Thus, I don't have the memory space for all these stupid characters (Editor's Note: The rest of us may). Normally, upon confusion, I would go back and re-read to remember a name. There are so many people in this book that I can't even tell you who was murdered or who has disappeared.
3. Lame portrayal of the sixties: Starting with the cover art, this book tries too hard. I'm sure it's difficult to write sixties fiction without being overly cliché, but I just couldn't accept this attempt. What put me over the edge was when the entire Wavos coffee shop shouted "wipeout" in unison.
Because of the above, I have not been properly engaged by this book and now I have no clue what is going on.
What do others think? Is anyone going to finish this?
- MC TROUBLE
________________________________________________
UPDATE
THE SPANIARD AND SCORP #8 have both finished Inherent Vice but it was definitely a losing battle. The ending somehow managed to tie everything together with some gratuitous sex scenes, but there were so many different plot threads it barely made any sense. I also picked up Pynchon's book Mason Dixon and am willing to give him another try in a couple months after my brain recovers from this. Groovy.
Posted by El Spaniard on Mon, Dec 28, 2009 @ 11:22 AM
Most of us are now reading the next book - Inherent Vice by Thomas Pynchon. First off, the jackass who won our last challenge chose a hard cover, which should immediately be outlawed. It's like taking a dump in a dirty bar bathroom - it's a total pain in the ass, everything about it kind of sucks, but at the end you still enjoy the experience. Nevermind, it's actually not like that at all, so this book better be good.
Early review after 6.5 pages is not good. The cover is lame - some glossy picture of a surf shop that is far too cliché and drawn by some dork who smoked weed once, watched Surf's Up, and now thinks he knows what surfing and the 60's were all about. In the first 6 pages you also get introduced to about 97 different characters, all in some hazy 60's-speak-lingo, so I have absolutely no idea what is going on.
Worst part is some chick came in and I can't determine if she is wearing a bikini top with shorts, or a bikini bottom with a shirt. I can't get past this and it is affecting everything else I'm doing with my life. If nothing else, I need to have the images of these literary chicks straight in my head. I still dream about Sheeni from Youth in Revolt, even if that book blew. If the chick who plays her in the movie is not as hot as what I have dreamed up, she will be ruined forever.
That is the biggest issue I have with movies - the destruction of literary female fantasies. Imagine how hot Sandra Bullock could be in a book if someone described her but you never actually had to see her? Or Shaq? Or the hot chick with the tail from Geek Love. Not sure what I would actually do if I discovered a chick had a real tail while we were in the sack, but I'm pretty sure it would somehow involve me wearing a cowboy hat and chewing tobacco.
Either way, what the hell is this with this chick in Inherent Vice? I actually don't know her name either, I think it's either Shasta or Sanchez, but not sure since there are so many weird names being thrown around already.
Another issue I can't get past. It's like trying to go to Whackytown with a Readers Digest. At this point, I'm just hoping for a shark attack since I know there is surfing involved. Pretty much the savior of any/all books is include a shark attack in some way/shape/form. It's kind of like chanting U-S-A! U-S-A! during any argument - guaranteed winning shot that can't be beat. Next time you're in an argument, just say that whatever the person just said was un-American and start chanting U-S-A! Other people will pick up on the chant, and game over. Try it.
Posted by El Spaniard on Tue, Dec 22, 2009 @ 11:57 AM
As noted, Shackelton was the alpha male book club member this month and took down the challenge thus winning naming rights for December. Here's a look behind the curtain at what goes into one of his picks:
________________________________________________
from Shackelton
to Tanaka
cc Spaniard,
Undead,
Scorp #8,
MC Trouble,
Slayer,
The Judge
date Tue, Dec 15, 2009 at 11:58 AMsubject Re: WHERE THE F IS THE BOOK SELECTION?
Book Meat Below.
Take a look and get back to me if anyone has read any of these or had bad experiences with Pynchon, which means it could be a great selection.
-Shackleton
Inherent Vice - Thomas Pynchon (384 pages)
Pynchon sets his new novel in and around Gordita Beach, a mythical surfside paradise named for all the things his PI hero, Larry Doc Sportello, loves best: nonnutritious foods, healthy babies, curvaceous femme fatales. We're in early-'70s Southern California, so Gordita Beach inevitably suggests a kind of Fat City, too, ripe for the plundering of rapacious real estate combines and ideal for Pynchon's recurring tragicomedy of America as the perfect wave that got away. It all starts with Pynchon's least conspicuous intro ever: She came along the alley and up the back steps the way she always used to-she being Doc's old flame Shasta, fearful for her lately conscience-afflicted tycoon boyfriend, Mickey. There follow plots, subplots and counterplots till you could plotz. Behind each damsel cowers another, even more distressed. Pulling Mr. Big's strings is always a villain even bigger. More fertile still is Pynchon's unmatched gift for finding new metaphors to embody old obsessions. Get ready for glancing excursions into maritime law, the nascent Internet, obscure surf music and Locard's exchange principle (on loan from criminology), plus a side trip to the lost continent of Lemuria. But there's a blissful, sportive magnanimity, too, a forgiveness vouchsafed to pimps, vets, cops, narcs and even developers that feels new, or newly heartfelt. Blessed with a sympathetic hero, suspenseful momentum and an endlessly suggestive setting, the novel's bones need only a touch of the screenwriter's dark chiropractic arts to render perhaps American literature's most movie-mad genius, of all things, filmable. Inherent Vice deepens Pynchon's developing California cycle, following The Crying of Lot 49 and Vineland with a shaggy-dog epic of Eden mansionized and Mansonized beyond recognition-yet never quite beyond hope. Across five decades now, he's more or less alternated these West Coast chamber pieces with his more formidable symphonies (V; Gravity's Rainbow; Mason & Dixon; Against the Day). Partisans of the latter may find this one a tad slight.
The Humbling - Philip Roth (160 pages)
What happens when a man loses the one thing that defines him as a human being? With nods to Shakespeare, Chekhov, and Shaw, Roth's grim new novel explores this question-with varying success. While the Los Angeles Times and the Washington Post praised Roth's elegant writing and caustic wit, other reviewers found the novel superficial and oddly lifeless, citing flat characters, undeveloped plot contrivances, a lack of humor, and a hostile portrayal of homosexuality. Even the graphic sex is "coarse" and "dull," according to the San Francisco Chronicle. Though not his best work, The Humbling may appeal to faithful Roth fans; others should pick up one of his earlier novels.
Mason Dixon - Thomas Pynchon (I think this author is Scorp-worthy - 784 pages)
A sprawling, complex, and comic work from one of the country's most celebrated and idiosyncratic authors, Mason & Dixon is Thomas Pynchon's Most Magickal reinvention of the 18th-century novel. It follows the lifelong partnership and adventures of the English surveyors Charles Mason and Jeremiah Dixon (of Mason-Dixon Line fame) as they travel the world mapping and measuring through an uncharted pre-Revolutionary America of Native Americans, white settlers, taverns, and bawdy establishments of ill-repute. Fans of the postmodern master of paranoia will recognize Pynchon's personality in the novel's first phrase: "Snow-Balls have flown their Arcs," a brief echo of the rockets that curve across the skies in the writer's masterpiece Gravity's Rainbow.
The Fortress of Solitude - Jonathan Lethem (528 pages)
Projected through the prism of race relations, black music and pop art, Lethem's stunning, disturbing and authoritatively observed narrative covers three decades of turbulent events on Dean Street, Brooklyn. When Abraham and Rachel Ebdus arrive there in the early 1970s, they are among the first whites to venture into a mainly black neighborhood that is just beginning to be called Boerum Hill. Abraham is a painter who abandons his craft to construct tiny, virtually indistinguishable movie frames in which nothing happens. Ex-hippie Rachel, a misguided liberal who will soon abandon her family, insists on sending their son, Dylan, to public school, where he stands out like a white flag. Desperately lonely, regularly attacked and abused by the black kids ("yoked," in the parlance), Dylan is saved by his unlikely friendship with his neighbor Mingus Rude, the son of a once-famous black singer, Barnett Rude Jr., who is now into cocaine and rage at the world. The story of Dylan and Mingus, both motherless boys, is one of loyalty and betrayal, and eventually different paths in life. Dylan will become a music journalist, and Mingus, for all his intelligence, kindness, verbal virtuosity and courage, will wind up behind bars. Meanwhile, the plot manages to encompass pop music from punk rock to rap, avant-garde art, graffiti, drug use, gentrification, the New York prison system-and to sing a vibrant, sometimes heartbreaking ballad of Brooklyn throughout. Lethem seems to have devoured the '70s, '80s and '90s-inhaled them whole-and he reproduces them faithfully on the page, in prose as supple as silk and as bright, explosive and illuminating as fireworks. Scary and funny and seriously surreal, the novel hurtles on a trajectory that feels inevitable. By the time Dylan begins to break out of the fortress of solitude that has been his life, readers have shared his pain and understood his dreams.
The Drop Edge of Yonder - Rudolph Wurlitzer (304 pages - could be too similar to Blood Meridian / Graham Greene but maybe a 2010 selection)
Known for 1969's Nog and the 1973 script for Pat Garrett and Billy the Kid, Wurlitzer delivers a mystic western possessed of anarchic charms and incantatory beauty. Mountain-man, trapper and opportunistic beast Zebulon Shook starts the tale by getting cursed by a half-Shoshoni half-Irish woman. Doomed never to know whether he is in the spirit world, the real world or just dreaming, he departs from his homestead along the Gila River in New Mexico to sell pelts. After meeting up with his adopted brother, Hatchet Jack, and losing at cards to Delilah, a beautiful Abyssinian courtesan, Zebulon is shot during a barroom dustup and sets out for California, where the gold rush is gathering steam, bringing with it the law and order that threatens the mountain doin's that he loves so dearly. Zebulon is pulled ever deeper into the era's bizarre historical footnotes: immortalized as a notorious outlaw by a reporter; narrowly missing joining the Walker expedition to colonize Nicaragua; reconnecting with Delilah at a San Francisco opium den; and finding the law and order forces dogging his heels to the last.
Posted by SCORP #8 on Mon, Dec 21, 2009 @ 03:22 PM
It truly is the most wonderful time of the year. And, in the spirit of giving that the season encourages, SCORPIONS have momentarily decided to set down their books, put aside their competitions, and open up their photo vault from Christmas Parties Past. Enjoy!
Caption: MC Trouble getting ready for the party in 2008. "What a waste of wine," you might be saying, to which MC Trouble would say, "don't be an idiot. I'd never do that with anything over 10% alcohol. That's scorpion blood. For the ladies."
Caption: All the SCORPS agree that the mushrooms & tequila kicked in at the exact wrong moment for "The Judge" in 2007. Every other SCORP got through the Yankee Swap without a problem. As for "The Judge," it took 12 men and a tranquilizer gun before he had his figgy pudding.
Caption: The Spaniard was a little late to the party in 2005.
Caption: Christmas piñata, SCORP-style. Feliz Navidad, motherfuckers.
Caption: In 2006 Mickey Rourke decided to drop by and let the SCORPS know the "Reason for the Season." It was a little awkward-until we got him a shot of whiskey and told him to pipe down.
Caption: Unidentified SCORPION. This photo was time stamped 12.29.08. The SCORPIONS party began on December 20 in 2008.
Posted by El Spaniard on Tue, Dec 08, 2009 @ 03:57 PM
It's early December. Kids are writing out their lists for santa, your girlfriend is dreaming of a ring and Scorp #8 is asleep in a gutter with a reindeer sweater and a black eye.
But early December also means another thing. For those not in polite society it means an official, sanctioned Scorpion book club meeting. Little did Shackleton realize when he picked The Raw Shark Texts written by Steven Hall on October 7th that the Scorps would break the existing time record from book choosing to book discussion. A lot has gone down in the past 2 months that has prevented the Scorps from gathering including, but not limited to:
- the spaniard losing his shirt in an underground poker game
- the undead killing his previous employer and starting fresh across town
- tanaka having an affair with tiger woods
But we're back and we are ready to go. We've already been contacted by Hall who is looking for the secret to joining in the un-space. Look for some pictures and stories in the next couple weeks. OR maybe we won't post anything. Either way we're meeting tonight and we'll be pouring the first beer on the ground for SLAYER who is with us no longer.