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The Ned and Daron Report Featuring Dave: We Don't Think Landing is as Extreme as xXx
All of a sudden a couple of weeks ago a really major thought hit into my brain. I was all like "good damn, it's August" and that thought blew me the hell away. I think a lot of people start getting all blown away when it becomes August, because when you're a kid that means it's getting really close to when you have to go back to school, and when you're an adult that means it's getting really close to when you have to go back to college, and that pretty much covers everyone I guess. August is a really impending month, probably the most impending month of all. Most everyone is either scared or depressed during August. But I don't go to school or college so I was actually really glad and excited to figure out which month it was.
This was supposed to be a really important month for me, both personally and in terms of my career as a .5 of a movie reviewer along with Daron, obviously because of xXx the most important awesomenist movie of the summer. I started getting excited on August 1 and by August 2 I was having a full on tissy and didn't know what I was going to do for eight more days until its official release on the tenth. I think it was on the second that I first eagerly tried to call Daron's house in Connecticut to start making arrangements for our report even though we weren't going to actually be able to start working on it for another rough week. So, call call call, ring ring ring, but no luck: he didn't answer at all. "How strange," thought I. "I wonder what Daron could be doing that would be so important he wouldn't answer a xXx related phone call?" I couldn't think of anything that would be that important, but there was absolutely nothing I could do about it but wait five minutes and then try to call him again. He still didn't answer, and that's when I started to worry. It went on like that for the next several weeks. Call, ring, answering machine ("doy doy doy my name's Daron doy"), worry, call, ring, answering machine, worry, over and over again. Where was he? Where could he be? Why was he blowing off xXx? Excitement and happiness were quickly turning into fear and depression. I think it was about August 6 that I got my first clue about where Daron might be, and I got it from the most unlikely of sources. David Alan Christensen, a professional acquaintance and fellow mystery buff with whom I'd struck up a tenuous friendship several years ago at a convention near his home in Los Angeles had apparently spotted Daron on his distant side of the continent, and, worry of worries, his initial reports made it sound like the boy had been kidnapped by some sort of rock band called The Landing.
I am the biggest sucker in the world. The Landing was coming to my town, but, as cursed fate would have it, they were coming on the same day that I was taking the G.E.D. and then leaving town for a "Hooray for the G.E.D." bender in Laughlin, Nevada. So. What did I do? Promptly upon returning from Laughlin, I flew to San Fran to "kick it" "old skool" with all the Landing krew: Daron G, Adm. Duck Ass B, and Mr. and Mrs. Aaron and Adrienne Snow. And what did they do? Just call me names like "sucker," "egghead," "four-eyes," and "world's biggest sucker" the whole time. All except Mrs. Snow, who was very nice and made many inquiries into the well being of my family and loved ones. Plus they made me lug their gear in exchange for being able to "kick it" with the whole funky fresh krew.
Those guys are totally huge, big shot, big time, rock and roll superstars. Keep in mind I was with them for just ONE stop on their world wide tour of the United States, but during this single night, I caught a glimpse into the glamour and excitement of rock and rollers out partying hard on the road that few other outsiders have been made privy to. They consumed a wide variety of beverages, both the exotic, such as chamomile tea, and the dangerous, such as unfiltered tap water. They stayed up really late. They drove around in a souped-up, hot-rod short school bus with no seat belts and no maps in an unfamiliar city. And, most importantly, they played their music at a volume that could only be described as "kind of loud, I guess." But what less would you expect from a band that just picks up and hits the open road with no sweaters, not even just in case? (Although the cool SF temps did cause an emergency visit to a local Ross Dress for Less). The sweetest icing on the top of their dangerously fattening rock and roll layer cake, though, is the cold, hard cash. I worked the "merch" table during their "set," and although I cannot speak for the entire evening's take, during my shift, they sold tens of dollars worth of cds. I tell you, they are living la vida loca AND rico suave all at once.
I have to admit that this all left me dazzled, dazed and bedazzled, which took the edge off of all their mocking of my "straight" or "square" lifestyle. Who can blame them for not being able to relate to a work-a-day regular guy? I mean, not only are the Landing fabulous pop star celebrities, but some of them also have superhuman strength. For instance, I personally saw with my own eyes Adm. Duck Ass lift Daron G's giant bass amp over his head and carry it down a flight of stairs and the length of a city block. Plus it is rumored that when they stay in hotels, they go to the pool, get in the water and Adm. Duck Ass holds Mr. Snowmobile- a full grown man! - like a baby AND THEN . . . Daron G holds Adm. Duck Ass holding Mr. Snowmobile like a baby. Like freakin' Atlas or something!
Dave's reports frankly stunned me. Daron living a crazy extreme awesomenist lifestyle of his own seemed possible, but not really plausible. Worse, if he had been going crazy or been brainwashed by kidnappers over the past few weeks maybe he wasn't ever going to get back to me about doing xXx for the Ned and Daron Report.
At this point I still hadn't seen xXx, so I wasn't sure whether Daron was missing out on anything by hanging out with his new friends in the outer-space-cult/radical-anarchistic-political-revolutionary-organization/rock-n-roll-band/whatever-it-is. I did know that souped up vehicles, not wearing sweaters, making lots of money and having super-human strength are all things that either Vin Diesel or his alter ego Xander Cage would probably approve of, so I thought maybe, just maybe, Daron's new lifestyle was exciting enough that he didn't even care about xXx anymore. You know, maybe he was actually living it, so he didn't really need to go see it or talk about it with his square, boring stay at home friends like me and Dave. After I found all this out I was really depressed and really scared. I stopped calling Daron and just stayed in bed for a couple of days. I was just thinking, you know. Thinking and hiding, I guess, and sick to my stomache, too. But I knew that there was something still coming, still something to live for, so I guess I was also waiting. And when the tenth came around I unstuck myself from my sheets, put on my flip-flops and was getting ready to head up to the Gateway Movie Theater for the 11:30 am showing when the phone rang. It was Daron.
That night and throughout the following weekend I experienced a lot of things Dave had warned me about, and like him, I learned a lot about misbehaving. I met Admiral Duck Ass and learned why they call him Admiral (when he commands a young lady to "suck his kiss" she must obey), I caught up with Daron (who I was surprised to find had given up his old fashioned "Daron" persona and now only referred to himself as International Dare-port) and admired his brand new shaved down haircut, and I met Aaron and Adrienne Snow (introduced collectively to me as Triple A Snowmobile) who spent their nights in town tearing recklessly through the dark, quiet Salt Lake City streets on a motorbike they'd stolen from one of their "fans". It was an exciting moment, and when the group left town I was reeling from the inertia of my brief encounter with the fast life, but also dizzily confused and disoriented. Which was better, Landing or xXx? Real life or movies, real life or movies? Which road is for me?
I think maybe what has happened to Daron (he'll always be sweet, huggable Daron to me, never the sleek ultramodernistic International Dare-port) is that there has been a totally extreme collision between his reality and the fantasy life that one experiences in the movies, much like the collision between Xander Cage's fist and the poor sucker who fronts him. This has happened for two reasons.
It is nearly impossible to exist in such an intimate proximity to the celluloid spectacle as you and Daron do and not experience some kind of conflation of fantasy and reality. Believe me, I know what I am talking about. As you know, I have lived in, and now live next door to, the city of Los Angeles, as in Hollywood, U.S.A., where movie magic is made. Nearly every day I will run into Booger from Revenge of the Nerds at a record store, or Milla Jovavich at the 7-11. Being surrounded by such glamour makes it difficult not to get caught up in the fabulous celebrity lifestyle. I thought maybe moving next door to Los Angeles might bring me back down to earth, only to discover that I moved into the very city where David Lee Roth lives! If anything, I have sunk deeper into the morass. Frankly, Ned, I fear for you. Be vigilant, lest the same siren song that has laid hold of Daron's feeble mind ensnare you also. Second, the stuff in movies is totally true. If it wasn't they couldn't make movies about it. That would be illegal.
Yesterday I finally went to see xXx. Xander was totally extreme, but also laid back enough not to blow his wad. Let me just sum up the movie this way — Xander has a huge oversized bottle of NOS sitting right there next to him in his black GTO and he never uses it. He doesn't have to. He's that cool. On the other hand, Landing's van is pretty souped up, but they couldn't engage the NOS even if they had to (which they would) because they don't even have any. That's not very extreme if you ask me. Here's something else from the actual movie. Xander's pretty good at motorized extreme sports of all kinds. He can jump like crazy on a motorbike, and he can ride a hydrofoil like nobody's business, but if he's going to get into a race against some snowmobiles, he'll take them on and beat them blind with nothing but a snowboard and exceptional athletism. Movies or real life? I must have been kidding. xXx kicked me, spanked me and reaffirmed every conviction I've ever had: I'll take the movies any day of the week. I give it a 4/12.
I attended a local promotional exhibit for xXx wherein the extreme GTO from the film was on display and was struck by the number of similarities between it and the Landing Extreme Tour Bus.
Both vehicles are filled with a vast array of switches which have no apparent purpose to the layperson, but that control deadly functions for those who have the proper instructionary documentation. Both had been modified in form: the GTO was missing its top and headlights, the Landing Extreme Tour Bus was missing its seats, which were replaced with a Hi-Impact Extreme Padded Sleeping Shelf and an Adventure Couch. Both were very old.
After seeing xXx for myself it has become absolutely clear that Daron believes he either is Xander Cage or maybe is a close relative. He is hanging out in exotic clubs, driving an Extreme Action Vehicle, being totally rock and roll, and even "giving the finger" to that crusty old California Senator whose car Xander steals in retaliation for trying to outlaw rap and video games by playing video games. This is not all bad, though, because since Xander is now a full time Secret Agent, we need figures like International Dare-port to take his place, inspiring us with outrageous acts of Extreme Lawlessness to prove that video games totally kick ass and that crusty old politicians can suck it. xXx is so extreme and so awesome that there needs to be a new word invented to describe it. My suggestion is Assome. 2/12.
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He told me he was in Idaho but that he'd be in Salt Lake later that day. For a second I pictured us going out to the movies together that night and I was absolutely thrilled at the way fate had brought him to my door — "how lucky we are, the most important movie of the summer and we get to see it together" and all that — but to my surprise, in our entire conversation he didn't say a single word about xXx. Instead he asked me to come see his band play that night at some seedy nightclub out south of the lake. It was a tough choice, but curiosity got the best of me and I put off the movie so that I could go find out what extreme behavior looked like in real life.