True, this re-imagined version of the Firefly opening credits doesn’t mention Simon, but it does feature awesome Commodore 64-style computer graphics and some bitchin’ guitar riffs. In other words, it’s a great way to start your Friday. Via Topless Robot

Note: This article contains spoilers. Proceed at your own risk.

I began exploring Hayao Miyazaki’s films long before any of them had been released on DVD. And given that I was living in Lincoln, Nebraska, the chances of any of them ever making it to a local movie theatre were slim to none (Princess Mononoke arriving at The Ross was a supreme cause for celebration). In order to watch the few Miyazaki films that were readily available—i.e., My Neighbor Totoro—I had to spend some time in the children’s section of my local video store—and I’m sure it looked odd to see a man in his late twenties wandering through the aisles of Pokémon and Power Rangers videos. It certainly felt that way.

I feel somewhat similarly when I talk about Avatar: The Last Airbender. Here I am, a man in his mid-thirties, singing the praises of a Nickelodeon series aimed squarely at 6 to 11-year-olds. But good, worthwhile, and honorable culture can be in all places. So let me cut right to the chase: I was very impressed by this series.

The term “Miyazaki-esque” doesn’t at all feel like an overstatement, here. While the series didn’t necessarily conjure up within me the same sense of awe and wonder that I attribute to Miyazaki’s works, it aims for and achieves similar levels of myth-making, world-building, character depth, and moral complexity.

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Stephen Prothero was recently on The Colbert Report to talk about his book, God Is Not One: The Eight Rival Religions That Run the World—and Why Their Differences Matter. As you might expect, it’s entertaining and humorous—though I wish Colbert had dropped his schtick a little bit to allow Prothero a bit more airtime.

Via Rod Dreher.

Note: This article contains spoilers. Proceed at your own risk.

What a long, strange, frustrating, thrilling, heartbreaking, confusing trip it’s been. My wife and I were late to Lost. It wasn’t until after reading this glowing review of the first season that I decided to get the first disc from Netflix, and we were immediately hooked. If I recall correctly, we watched the entire disc—all four episodes—in one sitting, immediately realized that Netflix simply wasn’t the way to go, and bought the DVD set the next day (and we made short work of it as well).

As we didn’t have cable TV, we were always one season behind. We’d avoid spoilers for the current season as best we could, buy the DVDs as soon as they came out, and watch the entire season over the course of a weekend or so. Suffice to say, Lost never really lost its hold on us. Even during those trying middle seasons, where the series lost its momentum and got bogged down with Nikki and Paulo, the Others, constantly shifting alliances and loyalties, time travel, and an increasingly convoluted mythology, we were as enthralled and fascinated as we were befuddled. And it all led us, via however meandering a path, to 5am on the Monday after the series finale aired, where we sat on the couch in our pajamas to watch “The End” on Hulu.

When asked for my reaction to the end of Lost, I initially said I found the finale emotionally satisfying, but pretty lacking in every other way. However, that assessment has changed considerably as I’ve reflected more on the series’ finale, and not in its favor.

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If Firefly‘s survival had depended on Nathan Fillion’s charisma alone, it would’ve lasted for a decade (at least).

Friends, it’s been almost two years since we—“we” being pop culture geeks everywhere—dodged a bullet. In May 2008, the powers that be at Fox decided to cancel the American remake of Spaced due to negative reactions to the pilot.

This may have been the only time when a Fox cancellation turned out to be a good thing: if the above clip is any indication, the American remake—dubbed McSpaced due to the involvement of director McG—would’ve been a soulless, life-draining entity devoid of anything resembling humor or joy. Via

Pulling Over and Asking for Directions:

Granted, I’ve logged only a meager number of hours in the “Lost” universe but already it seems apparent to me that the pleasure that the show evokes has very little to do with unraveling its many mysteries. Rather it’s about the state of being mystified, bewildered and maybe a little bit frustrated too. Which is to say that, if you ask me, most of its devoted fans secretly don’t really want to understand what’s happening at all.

They watch each episode under the pretense that the narrative is moving towards some sort of resolution and that they’re participating in that resolution. But in fact they really tune in so that they can have their expectations and assumptions confounded, cut-off, detoured and further confused. In this, “Lost” obliges profusely and frequently, usually when the writers seemed confused or at a loss for purpose themselves. (To that end, I have to say that the show also has to be one of the most appropriately named television shows I can think of, exceeded in aptness only by “Cops.”)

For what it’s worth, I think Vinh ought to spend less time writing about grids and more time writing about pop culture—even though I disagree with his fundamental assertions.

Michael Ian Black on the NBC/Conan O’Brien donnybrook:

I think the deeper reason people are so inflamed by this petty war is that Conan in his own way has come to represent the aggrieved, the injured, the wrongly terminated. I think there is a sense in this country that giant corporations are ruining everything, even late night talk shows. Something so insignificant takes on greater importance because I think on some level, “The Tonight Show” actually has become a very flawed stand-in for all the jobs lost to corporate greed, arrogance, and stupidity. We see Conan as a victim because we feel as though, like us, he wasn’t given a fair shot. If a guy like that, a guy who has everything, can be downsized and demoted, what hope do the rest of us have?

[...]

Sure it’s a shame it didn’t work out for Conan, the most creative talk show host since David Letterman, and I think it’s great he took a principled stand against NBC, but is this really the stuff of rallies? Is this really where we want to spend our political capital? If you have the energy to protest Conan O’Brien’s departure in Burbank, shouldn’t you maybe think about spending some time chanting outside General Motors or Goldman Sachs? Or Congress? This is the cause you want to get involved with? Instead of holding up placards with the Masturbating Bear on them, maybe donate a pint of blood. It’ll be a lot more helpful to somebody.

Conan is an unlikely hero of the working man but at this point, when heroes are far more likely to be squashed than celebrated like Norma Rae, as sad as it sounds, he might actually be the closest thing we’ve got.

I think O’Brien got screwed—well, as much as one can be screwed while receiving $33 million—but Black raises some noteworthy points.