Nihilistic Gobbledygook

VS.

The other day I treated myself to a fond stroll down memory lane by watching the 1981 classic "Heavy Metal." Perhaps it was a part of me longing to recapture a fond fleeting remnant of my childhood that is fluttering away with time.

Or perhaps it was because "South Park" paid homage to the flick in one of this seasons episodes.

Whatever the case, the movie embodies the eighties unlike any other. Essentially it is nothing, but a clip show of boobs, blood, and rocking music. Beyond this however several notable aspects stood out in my recent viewing:

- Don Felder's long forgotten gem "Heavy Metal (Taking a Ride)" remains as lucid and seething as ever before.

- John Candy as the star voice actor proves just why he is deserving of enshrinement in the "Comic Fat Guys" Mt. Rushmore.

- The short "Harry Canyon" is gleefully entertaining and in hindsight serves as the entire basis for that forgettable Bruce Willis fare, "The Fifth Element." I was pleased to be reminded of this one, as in my previous recollection of the film, the immortal "B-17" trumped all others.

And while I was overall pleased with my choice to dig out the flick for one last hurrah, I had one major complaint.

How can a film that is given the handle "Heavy Metal," in fact be less metal than "Transformers: The Movie?"

(Note: Before we go any further into this, please allow me to clarify one poignant issue. By "Transformers: The Movie" I am referring to the 1986 animated feature, not the Michael Bay debacle that is rapidly approaching "Rocky 5" status of movies never happened. I will admit becoming a little misty eyed in seeing Jazz torn in half by Megatron, but this in no way compares to the emotional trauma my psyche endured in witnessing the massacre of Ironhide, Prowl, Ratchet, Brawn, Windcharger and Wheeljack.)

How can Sammy Haggar touch Stan Bush's offerings? He wishes that he wrote these songs. "You Got the Touch" was even cited in "Boogie Nights!" Dirk Diggler sang transformers music for Gawd sake!!!

"Heavy Metal" had a Deo helmed Black Sabbath in tow, but even the pioneer of the devil horn hand sign himself could not touch the caustic wailings heard in Lion's cover of the "Transformer's Theme."

Even the prophet Steve Perry crumbles in the face of "Instruments of Destruction" by the band N.R.G.

This being said, while "Heavy Metal" warrants a presence in my collection of disintegrating VHS tapes, I hold divisively that the title should be awarded to the Transformers on account of lack of metal awesomeness.

From here on out "Transformers: The Movie" will hereby be referred to as "Transformers: Heavy Metal" with "Heavy Metal" changing its name to "Pterodactyl Riding Thunder Cunts:
Starring John Candy."

That is my word and it has been written.

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At this point if you have read this far into the article, you may ponder what bearing this has at all on the sports landscape.

You are right. It doesn't.

Which is exactly why I take issue with the direction sports journalism is headed towards in our modern era. Articles like this have absolutely nothing to do with sports and yet are being passed by sports columnists all over.

I get it. "The Wire" is a brilliant show and I cannot wait to sit down and watch it in its entirety on DVD. However I fail to see how promotion of the show has anything to do with the NBA. Just because one or two of the players might one day end up like some of the characters on the show, I do not see the connection.

Yes, I have heard that the Raconteurs new album is supposed to be fabulous. And this will affect my fantasy draft how? For that matter, why are you being paid to tell me who to pick in a fictionalized league based entirely upon pure luck?

We have access to a nigh infinite amount of information via the web and yet I am more likely to find an in depth interview with Adam Corrolla in regards to his short lived stint on "Dancing with the Stars," then I am of finding one journalist willing to hold Matt Walsh's feet to the fire regarding his accusations against the New England Patriots.

Most people probably do not even know who Matt Walsh is.

Who dropped the ball in inquiring about steroid use in baseball, allowing Jose Canseco to be "vindicated" by the Mitchell Report?

What dirt has not been dug on "Sneaker Pimp" William Wesley allowing him to continue his influence on basketball?

Why is it not fishy to some that NBA commissioner David Stern is friends with Sonics majority owner Clay Bennett and somehow franchise player Kevin Durant ended up in Seattle?

No, no. Those questions will never do.

Journalists who ignite fires end up broke. Journalists who sit around and argue sports, (while citing other TV shows starring journalists who sit around and argue sports) get to write player's memoirs.

A journalists job is not an easy one. Newsworthy material is not often entertaining. Serving as a living information filter, it is understandable of how one would use pop culture and hip simile to attract more attention to bylines.

However journalists have an obligation to the masses, and that is to provide an insight. To seek truth in a world of lies. To delve into unexplored realms. Damn it, they evoke the "vox populi."

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And you know what? Maybe that has been the problem all along.