If you were featured on a previous YouTube Monday here, chances are you might be in the new Weezer video. And you hear this song? It's like we're Weezer from the mid-90s again! Absolutely on fire! Of course, the rest of their new album (in stores today) is total eh. But hey, a new Weezer album is like a new Indiana Jones movie--good, even when it's bad.

Weezer - "Pork & Beans"

Hey look Shia, this movie of ours rules when you shine a light on it.

Of course you know, Indiana Jones has made his lauded return to the silver screen this weekend, and it's been met with droves of mixed feelings from longtime fans and critics. Some have embraced it without a second thought, brash others have lashed venom at it, as if it were the new Jar Jar Binx.

My personal favorite line I heard was "Just goes to show you, the only good Indy movies are the ones with Nazis in them."

But this Nazi-less Indy movie, Indiana Jones & The Kingdom of the Crystal Skulls, is a good movie. Yes, it's true. Heck, it's even a good Indy movie. But coming off the heels of the pinnacle Indy movie nearly 20 years ago (1989's "The Last Crusade"), it's a bit harder to enjoy it as much as you really truly want to.

But fear not, movie-goers! I've compiled a set of guidelines to bear in mind while sitting through the movie, whether you haven't seen it yet or already saw it but hated it. I'll do my best to keep this spoiler free, but read at your own risk if you don't want to know anything about the movie before seeing it. Just come back here for post-analysis after you do see it.

The must-have survival guide for INDIANA JONES & THE KINGDOM OF THE CRYSTAL SKULLS
*the most important thing to bear in mind is that the last Indy movie was "The Last Crusade." And I don't know what your definition of "last" is, but I would have taken it as a hint that Indy will no longer be marching off to war against evil forces who wish to harness biblical artifacts for their own evil doing. But that doesn't mean there aren't more ancient mysteries to be uncovered.

*crystal skulls are not something stupid that were created for this movie. They, in fact, have a long line of mystery and mythology and are considered one of the most mysterious archaeological subjects of the 20th century.

*this movie, like all other Indy movies, has been made by the same 2 guys who brought us Close Encounters of the 3rd Kind, E.T., and of course, Star Wars. The Indiana Jones franchise was created specifically as a way for both George Lucas and Steven Spielberg to 'have fun' with film making. It's a partnership inspired by James Bond, history and comic books. So when it comes to fun for this team, all bets are off, and all stunts are absolutely over the top. Don't expect this to be "The 10th Commandment" or "Schindler's List."

*This isn't your father's Indiana Jones. To be accurate with Harrison Ford's age, Indy has aged much by this movie. Thus, World War 2 is way over. We're now up to our waists in the Cold War, and it's a whole new era for the world, and the grey-haired Indy. It's the beginning of the future; the information age, where knowledge gives greater leverage and power than force does. So with different stakes and different prizes worth digging up, expect the payoff to be a bit different than the previous era of Indy films.

*Indy is an archaeologist and a high-end college professor of history. He has always followed the compass of truth, not "bedtime stories," not "myths," not "legends," not anything outside the ring of common sense. He has to see it to believe it. But he loves an adventure and has unearthed many unbelievable things through his travels. At this point in the Indy franchise, there is little he hasn't found, so this movie's treasure shouldn't shock you if it's out of this world.

*Mutt Williams is not Jar Jar Binx bad. In fact it's probably the young Shia Laboeuf's most tolerable role to date. But I do have trouble seeing him take over the franchise.

*Since you can do more with action movies now than you could in 1989, it should come as no surprise that Spielberg and Lucas will obnoxiously flex some serious muscle with action sequences in their 'fun' franchise. Lots of it will be awesomely uncalled for, but awesome for the very same reason.

*While the movie is a bit of a departure from what fans have come to expect from a good Indiana Jones movie, there are many comforting ties to the previous films.

*And hey, just for fun, did you know that Tom Selleck was originally cast as Indy? Talk about bad 'what-ifs" Try picturing this movie with Magnum PI, instead of Han Solo.

You remember that one time you were driving through Bethlehem, Pa and you accidentally mistook it for a quiet outlying town in Japan?

Yeah, me neither. But hey, that mindset is apparently bringing Michael Bay and the rest of his Transformers 2 set to our locale, instead of Japan, so who I am to be a jerk about it?

In fact, what movie could be more appropriate for transforming filming spots into entirely different locales from the other sides of the globe than Transformers?

Check out what The Morning Call dug up on the upcoming set, slated to begin in early June before moving on to Philly.

But they literally have sent out an Asian casting call for extras in a town where there's, how do you say... very few. But let's get onto bigger better Transformers talk.

Seems I got my wish about Soundwave.

And here's the amazing story of his comeback.



And though the script has had a tight lid on it, and director Michael Bay has sworn to mislead everyone as best he can, some legit whispers I've heard around the project include (STOP NOW IF YOU WANT TO BE KEPT IN THE DARK!)

(if I were to link to any credits, I'd be linking to "stolen" script treatments, so take any credibility here with some salt and hot sauce. Though, I'd say such plot points make as much sense as anything else.)

-Hot Rod
-the return of Megatron
-The Autobot Matrix (from the animated movie)
-college life and cross country road trips
-major showdown in Las Vegas
-more government secrets
-a struggle for power in the Decepticon ranks
-total war on earth, for earth
-Ultra Magnus
-some main characters die

Some records become big personal things, like rickety cars that stop and pick up your hitch-hiking head to take it where you want to go, or atleast as close as it is willing to take you. Whether it's anywhere but here, or somewhere particular. For me, Death Cab For Cutie's "Narrow Stairs" (released last Tuesday) became one such experience.

I haven't read "Big Sur."

As an obvious star gazer of Jack Kerouac's, I know full well I should. But shying away from Jack's swan song is not so much of ignorance as it is fear.

I know the novel's chapters spell the end of Kerouac's road and I know it ain't pretty. It's mired in longing, as always, but is sunken deep in a much danker and lonelier world than his preceding works. It's night time falling, and at 24, I'm not ready to sink into that sadness. I still want to believe in the road. The wide open world without locks, keys, shackles. Everything dancing, bopping, blasting and blaring, shining, wild, on fire and free. Branches blowing violently in the wind, leaves shaken miles and miles away into the woods, long long ways from home. That's where I'm at. (Even though, I live in the house where I grew up, my mind nor heart is never, ever here.)

I'm still too steeped in naivety to face such a written work.
I still believe in trees running around without roots in the ground.
I still believe in the American dream.

So I'll read "Big Sur" when I'm ready to face reality, square in his droopy, bloodshot eyes.

Death Cab For Cutie brainchild/frontman/songwriter, Ben Gibbard, however, has read "Big Sur."

Better yet, he wrote a part of "Narrow Stairs" in the same cabin where Jack himself wrote "Big Sur." Gibby even wrote an essay titled "The Meaning Of Life" about the whole experience, which you should read if you plan on giving the album any real spin, which I do recommend you should.

Ben went to the cabin, lost, and in search of Jack's fervent wisdom. He wanted to know the next step.

When I peeled off the wrapping of the new Death Cab record and opened up the CD tray in my bedroom, I wasn't one bit different; I came to Ben, looking for wisdom, the next curve. Where does the next bend in the road take me? Tell me, Ben. I know you know. "I want to know my fate."

The odd thing is, no Death Cab record has ever spilled fourth one nugget of truth or visionary wisdom. Their best songs have reveled in both sad struggles and life's most cheery-eyed moments; all the bumps in the road. But they never plotted me a map, never spouted me off a set of directions. (Though, their awesome supplemental music vid DVD to "Plans" was CALLED "Directions.")

And yet, I slipped on my headphones looking for a road sign that read "Revelations-next 11 tracks." I did this because their songs carve up this unique little language for me; A whole new cursive world, rife with a chaotic sadness that somehow unearths a glimmer of hope in a deep coal mine of despair.

Think about it. Many of us slipped right into Ben's shoes when he found his ex girlfriend's picture in his glove box while being pulled over by a cop ("Title & Registration"). His songs are our songs, and they're all about where we pulled over on the side of the road and had to just re-think about how we got there. They put you in the driver seat, but they were never ever about where we were actually going. We asked if we should be somewhere else? Should you have stayed with someone else? Should you have made a different choice? They're question songs, not answer songs. But Death Cab keep asking the right questions, so I keep expecting answers, though I should know by now I'm not gonna get them.

But this has never been as clear as on "Narrow Stairs." Ben begins the record where Jack ends, at "Bixby Canyon Bridge." The song begins soft, sweet, serene as Ben descends "into a dusty gravel ridge." He looks around, raises some wet, muddy gravel from the shallow creek bottom and lets it fall through his fingers back into the water. He waits for Jack's spirit to rise up, smirk at him and say "Ben, I'm so glad you've come. I've been waiting for you. What you have been searching for your entire life, is here, trickling in the water. Ask me anything, I have your answers."

Bixby Canyon Bridge

But nothing happens. The world turns.

The wind blows through the canyon. The sun sets, slowly. The soft current of water trickles around Ben's bare feet. Ben talks to himself, and Jack and his answers never rise up through the earth's cracks.

It's like being young.

Then Ben's voice disappears into a rush of tightly wound drum skin pounding and angular guitar feedback swirls that fill the speakers with disenchanting spirals of out-of-control noise. And you try to make sense out of it, to separate the notes, to find Ben buried in the mess. You try to dissect the nonsense and find yourself as lost as Ben surely felt, standing there like a cold, wet moron in the water.

It's like realizing you're getting older.

And then it fades back to soft and airy, the sound of the world spinning slowly. And Ben's voice rises back to the surface, only to say that he turns around and leaves, no closer to the truth, no closer to knowing what this "American Dream" really is. And Jack probably never found it either. So, perhaps, in a way, Ben did find Jack. It's just not the Jack he had dreamed for so long of meeting.

"I cursed myself for being surprised that this didn’t play like it did in my mind," he sings.

It's like waking up from the American dream. With a really bad hangover.

The rest of the album is caked in this thick dreary mud from Bixby Canyon's Bridge. It's tighter, and much more aimless than anything they've written before. Whereas their 2 previous records were wide open and emotionally expansive (not unlike the first half of "On The Road"), "Narrow Stairs" walks quietly down a back alley with it's hands in it's pockets, totally unsure of itself or where to go. But that's not to say it's dead weight floating along with a lack on ambition.

The nearly 9-minute first single "I Will Possess Your Heart" is hardly unambitious. In fact, the song leaps right back into a world of longing and hopeful dreams, which we just learned in the first song leads to no more than dead ends and more questions. Backed by a propulsive bass line and cathartic piano twinkles, the frigid song shakes off it's icy arms easily with Ben obsessing over a girl he knows he could get to unconditionally love him if she would just give him her time of day. The music critic circuit has aptly billed the song the ultimate stalker song this side of "Every Breath You Take," but what romantic stud hasn't felt that convinced about a girl, at least once?

The album continues to dive into a more lunar world than the road trip soundscapes which spanned their past few records. But it's pretty lively for something that makes life seem so sad and heavy with gravity. Ben watches his inner optimist die in "No Sunlight" and watches from a hillside as grapevines burn in a roaring out of control fire while firefighters pray for heavy downpours of rain (in all likelihood, this is of the California wild fires from last year), but the songs are all entwined in their own patches of fruitful chords.

He even watches a friend give up on hopes, dreams, and love in the excellent "Your New Twin-Sized Bed." "What's the point in holding onto something that never gets used," he sings.

And the album comes seemingly close to some sort of end on a cold and lonely note, with "The Ice Is Getting Thinner." It doesn't mark the end of the relationship Ben sings of, but he knows an end is looming, just a few degrees away from finishing off the sheet of ice he sits on. In the past, he would have written this song from the perspective of the ice being half-frozen, but after his trip to "Bixby Canyon Bridge," it's half-melted.

It'd be a stretch to call this the best record of the year. (The album lost serious points for packaging it with the most difficult lyric book to pull out of the plastic case, EVER!) But the most personal account? The one that has the most to say to a guy who's looking for a little direction and noise in his currently quiet life? That, it most certainly is.

It makes me want to connect with the ethereal muse that Jack and Ben and so many others found out there in the wide open, even though it specifically shows that catching such spirits and such experiences does nothing to help you get any inches closer to what you're really after--that American Dream, God, love, success, whatever; the fabled end of the road.

I think, as a country, we're starting to carve up the American dream again. It went in hiding for a few decades. But it's coming back. I see it all over the place. I feel it. I see it. And who can blame us? We need something to believe in again. This record puts it that into song, and is perhaps, the shape of dreams to come.

What better to dream, than waking from the wickedness of an unforgiving nightmare, to find the road has no end? That's an answer worth embarking out into the world and searching under every single stone for, and one I'm prepared to do.

Nick Fury's incognito appearance was pretty big nerd news to Iron Man movie goers. But now I gotta go back and watch this stinking movie again because apparently there's ANOTHER tucked away cameo buried in the film, from yet ANOTHER Avenger...

Well, sorta.

And looks like he'll be showing up (again, sorta) in the Hulk, as will Downey Jr.'s Tony Stark.

I wonder if we can attribute any big hammers or lightning bolts in either movie as Thor cameos?

It's total Where's Waldo.

All I've gotta say is that Marvel taking the leather reigns to make their movies on their own dollar is the best thing to happen to geeks in decades. Avengers unite!

My Morning Jacket - "Evil Urges"

For the longest time, I really tried to like My Morning Jacket. I really really did.

From the beginning of the band's buzz very early on, I literally had to force myself to understand what all the mouth-watering hootenanny from their uber obsessive fanboys was all about.

"The best live band alive."

"Each song off each record is different and unique, you gotta hear them, man. Fo realz!"

Anyone who was anyone in the taste making music-sphere spoke the world of them, so how could I not at least attempt to see what the uproar was about?

I bought each record of their's since 2001's "At Dawn" and most of the time, I found my self WANTING to like them, instead of finding myself past the point of no return in a profound obsession, like everyone else spurring off about their records.

Beginning with that record, I saw the diamond seeds of something wonderful. Some of those songs were impeccably gorgeous, some of the best songs written from that pre 9-11 time period. "Bermuda Highway" is, to this day, one of the most beautiful songs I've ever listened to. And Jim James' transcendental vocals showcased the most wide-open soul-baring wails I'd ever heard. What an angel voice. A white wolf of super soul! Otis Redding, Etta James, Michael Jackson all put to shame, like THAT! His voice was perfect. TOO perfect. Too pristine and instrumental to sit in a set of headphones with any other instruments around it.

But, the seeds were all I saw, and they weren't sewn. None of the record really bloomed for me. The songs were awesome, but executed much differently than they begged to be. I was totally wowed by the details, but as a whole, the record was just too dusty Kentucky. And it's not that I don't dig some folk or some Band of Horses and Limbeck, because I totally do. But My Morning Jacket were doing the wrong things with their razor sharp talents, and it turned me off where it turned others on. Their grungey southern dirt rock needed less twang and more verve to properly exude their fabled greatness. They barked when they should have wailed. And so I found myself digging holes in the wrong fields.

With each new record, I found myself gravitating towards more and more of their growing songs, but still, it was Jim's voice and his lyrics that kept my ears perked, not the records, feedback-heavy solos or set of songs.

That mostly changed with Z, released in 2005. It was like they were Bob Dylan and went electric. Out of nowhere came this ethereal record with a new and lucid air to the music and performance. It was a new jacket for the morning. They mostly cutaway the southern jam band carnival fest taste, but kept the same ingredients to make the spacey trip of "Z." And my mind was blown, as was all the ever-so-smug "I told you so" scenesters, who alas, told me so, oh so long ago.

The half a dozen songs I've heard from their upcoming "Evil Urges" (due June 10) takes that and masters it further. Descending even deeper into the abyss of undefinable music style and uncanny music vision. Remember when Radiohead dropped "Ok Computer" on the world? Yeah, this ain't all that different of a trip, broheem.

"Touch Me I'm Going To Scream (Part 2)" is perhaps the wickedest track I've heard in ages. The song is so alive. It breathes, like a new baby born. It's bristling and bold. It's a rhythmic firecracker, with Jim's voice harrowing from the inside like the warm stirring core of planet earth, spinning out of control. I'm finally and totally convinced this band is every ounce of gravy so many have spoke of for so long now.

But even better than that, I tripped across the band's brightest light while sniffing out these "Evil Urges" tunes. And I hate myself for not digging this up sooner; the "Acoustic Citsuoca" EP from 2004.

I've listened to this on repeat all freaking weekend long and there is no sign of me stopping now. It's sparse, twinkling, live and acoustic, letting Jim man the reigns mostly on his own through this laid-back set of 5 songs. They cherry pick some of the best tunes off their earlier stuff and polish them off here. And boy do they shine. This starry-eyed cut of "Bermuda Highway" is what I will refer to when people ask me what my favorite song is. Mind. Blowing.

And wrapping this all up, have you been wanting to see what all this fuss about The Jacket is for, like I used to? Sign up for eMusic, and use your 50 free downloads you get for signing up to start chomping into their entire catalogue, because eMusic has every release of theirs now, including "Acoustic Citsuoca," and will land "Evil Urges" when it's released in June. eMusic, btw, is my best friend. If you're a music head, and aren't a "I only buy vinyl and/or physical CD" snob, eMusic is a total indie world godsend.

There is nothing I can say that can appropriately preempt this. It's like Ninja Turtles, Transformers, and The Wonder Years all spliced into one. So, go ahead, dive in and relive one of the best things of the 1980s. DINOSAUCERS!

Transformers 2 coming to Bethlehem and Philly to film next month? Wtf?!

It would seem so. Which means, I will do everything I can to become an extra in this stinkin' movie.

Is it just me, or are the endless fields of corn rows and pessimistic, chip-shouldered residents of south eastern Pa giving Hollywood a whole new stage for filming big ticket movies these days? We rule.

And while we're on the subject, I expect to see some Dynobots, Hot Rod, and Soundwave. Where the eff was Soundwave in the first movie?! He made monotone characters cool! I want Soundwave and I want to share a scene with him in Transformers 2!

Well, tomorrow is the last chance to enter yourself into our big bad Gas Giveaway. So do your gas guzzlin' Hum V a favor, bucko, and pick up tomorrow's Mercury and fill out the enclosed entry form. I wish you all luck, but if you don't win the $250 of gas grand prize, I have this to say to you. (Our advertising staff found this in Boyertown along Route 100.)

He is Iron Man. Da-na-na-na-na, na, na, na.

The consensus is pretty general, Downey Jr. as the iron-clad Tony Stark is the new blockbuster franchise Hollywood has been praying to the money gods for. And comic book dorks, movie critics, and regular joes alike are resounding with waves of pleased applause around the globe, not unlike the week the first Spiderman flick struck gold a few years back.

But you're here because you want to know what I see beneath the heavy (and sleek) Iron armor of the movie, aincha? Well allow me to suit your fancy.

There is an excellent soliloquy towards the conclusion of Kill Bill Part 2 where Bill waxes intellect on superheros and comic books. In it, he explains how Superman is the most unique of superheros because unlike most heroes out there in comic land, Superman is his true identity. He was born Superman. He became Clark Kent to fit in, which is backward for most heros, even the mutant X-men. And Clark Kent is how the all-powerful alien being, Superman, views the human race; dorky incapable dudes that work at newspapers (maybe he based his opinion off me?) Blah blah blah.

Well after catching the debut of Iron Man on the silver screen this weekend, I have to digress with my lisped warrior friend's argument on uniqueness of super characters. I'm more stricken by Iron Man.

(do a reader's u-turn here if you haven't seen the movie yet, spoilers may await ahead)

Like Batman from the DC Comic universe, Iron Man has no super powers. He is really just a man, who uses his buckets of wealth to finance expensive gadgets and inventions to combat the bad guys. Sure, he has a fusion thing embedded in his chest to keep him alive, but that's a weakness, not a power. If anything, his superpower is a deep debit account.

But unlike Batman, Iron Man is super in every way. Batman wields fear and mystery, while Iron Man rockets around with indestructible armor, weapons of mass destruction, strength and some of the most uncanny dry humor this side of Bill Murray. But the argument here is that most superheros walk the earth as two different people: Their hero crime fighting self, and their daily alter ego (who, in many cases works for a newspaper). For instance, Peter Parker does not want anyone to know he is Spiderman. He, of course, likes the attention, but doesn't want that vulnerability of being known by his enemies. So he hides his heroism away from his life as Peter. Plus his livelihood at the Daily Bugle hinges on NOT being Spiderman. He has much to hide from and be careful of, as all superheros do. So they live quietly and loudly, at the same time.

Iron Man, however, is Iron Man. He is loud and always loud. Tony Stark is the most obvious of all daily alter egos. His fusion chest thingy is no hidden secret, clear as daylight. And he doesn't think, talk, or do anything differently when in his armor.

After he saw the black and white of what he's brought to the world as a weapon's designer, he decided to fix what he's wronged. It's not as much about combating evil as it is clearing his conscience and defeating his own naivety. He has no division of personality, which is probably why Downey Jr.'s Tony Stark has the most personality of any character you'll see in a hero movie this year. It's full thrustered Iron Man, all the time, whether he's wearing his suit or not. The ending of the movie, than, could not be more appropriate. Finally! A superhero super enough to tell everyone who he is. To be publicly proud enough to let everyone in on the big secret. To take credit for saving the day. If any super hero can get away with that, it's Stark, the man who is still just a man.

To peace!

Oh and did you stay through the credits? You should be 'fury-ous' if you didn't. It looks like the beginning of a beautiful friendship, if you know what I mean. One that we are supposed to see much more of come 2011.