Top Ten Novels of All Time, According to Moi
A meme seed sorta ganged up on me.
First, Syaffolee announced her favorite book ever in this post*, so I went out to procure it from the library (I will always attempt to read someone else's favorite book, unless it's Ulysses), and on that same day, the "brand new" non-fiction shelves had The Top Ten: Writers Pick Their Favorite Books** out. (Btw, if'n yer curious, "top ten" is searchable on Amazon.com, so if you want to see if your favorite writers were included, or if a particular book was, just search for it.)
(*Thumbnail review of The Blue Sword by Robin McKinley: 'Twas a fine read. The language was regal in a unique way, and once the story started (it took a while), it was fun.)
So, I felt this was a sign to put up my top ten favorite novels of all time (thus far in my life). My old vanity site has an older, longer list, if you are interested.
1. A Prayer for Owen Meany by John Irving (see below for his top 10**)
This one has it all. No other novel has moved me as much as this one did. I'd be trying not to weep on one page, and guffawing on the next. This is one of the few books I was so hooked on, I snuck it into work and buried it in another book so I could keep reading. I doubt I'll read a better novel in my life.
2. Texasville by Larry McMurtry
Another perfect novel. I laughed on every page. Many say Lonesome Dove is his masterpiece, and it probably is because of the scope, but this is the best sustained comic novel I've ever read. McMurty nails that time in middle-age where a man just kind of pinballs around in his life, bouncing off family, friends, pets, and the wonder of it all.
3. Infinite Jest by David Foster Wallace (see below for his top 10**)
This doorstop of a novel has vast charms and I fell hard for all of them. Even though this monster is 1,000 pages, with 300 pages of end notes, I grieved as I drew near the end - one of the only novels (save for the two above and the set below) where I've done that; which appropriately compliments the title. I think that perhaps it may not age well, because the language and the particular mindset it beautifully and accurately portrays is a generational one that ones before and after will probably not share. Another way of saying that is: this is one of those you either "get" or you don't. Test-drive it here.
4. The "Harry Potter" series by J. K. Rowling
Few worlds have been as much fun to visit - and such a joy to read - as the Harry Potter novels. I've been clearing off my calendar at the latter part of July, and I've warned my family that I'm gonna be distracted, so the usual "Are you listening to me?!" invective will not be met with an apology, but a slightly miffed, "Of course not! It's Harry time!" I am convinced that we have witnessed the creation of a new classic that will do down through the ages.
5. The Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy "Trilogy" by Douglas Adams
Much like Robert Fulghum's old, infamous "All I Really Need To Know I Learned In Kindergarten," this series contains a lot more truth that you realize at first. Don't let the recent dismal movie throw you. Even the TV series didn't really capture the novels well (which themselves were based on an original radio show). My mom, who I could never convince to read sci-fi novels, read this. She once got laughing so hard a neighbor came by and asked if she were OK. (Psst. You can borrow it here.)
6. Robots of Dawn by Issac Asimov
Before reading this, I had no reason to expect that sci-fi could be everything to everyone. To me sci-fi was usually nifty gadgets and concepts with the occasional cool twist ending, but not much else. This novel is moving, funny, and has a great mystery. Believe it or not, it's written beautifully, too - something Asimov was not known for. I recommend if you're going to give this one a go, read the two prequels first: 1) The Caves of Steel and 2) The Naked Sun. Or, if you'd rather, read them after, if you liked "Dawn."
7. The Stand and The Shining (equal favorites) by Stephen King (see below for his top 10**)
Top-notch stories with an even grander style. No one writes like King. Even if you're not generally a fan, these ones should thrill anyone who digs great writing.
8. Good Grief by Lolly Winston (Her 10 top ten can be found here - see? It's just a meme waiting to happen.)
This, like Bright Lights, Big City (McInerney) and Catcher in the Rye (Salinger), perfectly conveys the internal atmosphere of the narrator and her situation. Sophie's husband has died of cancer (most of which we are spared, thank God), and she slowly caves in to grief. The mixture of humor and an honest depiction of what it's like to go through intense grief is unmatched elsewhere. Surly the upcoming movie won't be able to convey this as well as the words do.
9. The Lovely Bones by Alice Sebold
As with Good Grief, above, The Lovely Bones tackles a difficult subject honestly without making the reader regret taking the voyage. A teenage girl is murdered by a serial killer, and narrates the book from Heaven (don't worry - all trappings of religion are completely avoided). "Graceful" is about the only word I can think of that comes close to defining this novel.
10. A Dirty Job by Christopher Moore
One of the rare reads that didn't flag once, or make me look at a clock. It also builds a perfect fictional world, which is a feat unto itself because it's a very absurd one. See, Charlie learns he is a Death Merchant - a sort of grim reaper who must transport "soul vessels" that contain said soul from the previous owner to the new one (the ontology is very Buddhist). Hilarity ensues. The whole shtick on what a "beta male" is could in itself comprise a novel, but it's just one of the many layers in this tricky story. My wife, who can sit through most standup with a straight face, giggled about every 10 minutes when reading this.
**Some of the authors' from above top tens:
_______
Update
Alas, the site that contained these is no more. However, you can still see each list by going to the book link, and searching for "John Irving", "David Foster Wallace", and "Stephen King" respectively.
Tuesday, July 10, 2007
Found it!
A long time ago, I read this on one of those Xeroxes passed around the office that had been copied so many times, the letters had grown and formed white interiors - the thing we had before email for passing around humor. I've been hunting for it since.
A Yankee goes to a Texas Chili cookoff.
A long time ago, I read this on one of those Xeroxes passed around the office that had been copied so many times, the letters had grown and formed white interiors - the thing we had before email for passing around humor. I've been hunting for it since.
A Yankee goes to a Texas Chili cookoff.
Monday, July 02, 2007
Douglas Adams was right
In Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy, Adams' postulated that machines with anthropomorphic personalities would prove fantastically annoying to most people.
While I didn't doubt that bit of wisdom at the time, I now have first-hand proof that it's true.
First, a lot of the places I frequent started putting in doors that open automatically, Star Trek style. If you've ever seen the wonderful blooper reel from the original series, it contains about 5 minutes of the cast bashing into a door because the guy who was supposed to swish it open missed a cue. Well, I have now walked right into doors that look like they should open automatically but don't. I can swear I hear the high-pitched laughter of sparrows after I've done that.
Then, I started encountering paper towel dispensers that operate when you wave at them, or place your hands beneath them. I don't know about you, but forcing me to wave or hold my hands out in supplication to a machine just makes me feel like a doofus.
There are sinks that tinkle on you when you hold your hands beneath them. Not such a big deal, but the sensors on them seem over-sensitive, and as I've been scrubbing sometimes, the water jets on and off like a little aqua-disco. Again, not a big deal, but it does make you pause and devotes a few cycles of synaptic work to grasp what's occurring. Sinks should not make you have to think, I think.
The most egregious offender, though, is the automatically flushing toilet.
I saw a report once where they were trying to prove if you could pick up stuff from a toilet seat (verdict: bacterial stuff, yes, but rarely; viral, almost never), but they did show how much splash-back was created by the power-flushes that most public toilets have. It leaves a pretty solid misting on the seat if you leave it down. You can test this yourself by putting one of those paper guards on and see what's left after a flush. The upshot (put intended) is if you have your rear on the thing when it goes, your tushie is misted with water that contains the leavings of those before you.
Let's stop and collectively shudder before I go on.
Well. One of the toilets I frequent mistakes a lean too far for an "all clear" and fires up the hurricane. So, you have to shuffle away until it finishes. A lovely moment, I can assure you.
Worse though is how you're "locked in" to the cycle if you come too near a toilet, meaning it will flush if get in general vicinity, then move away.
So what, you say?
In Colorado, we have water conservation pounded into our skulls via constant doom-laden public service announcements, and several-hundred-dollar watering bills. (Ours hovers between $150 and $250 during the summer when we're watering our lawn, which is HOA commanded. Some folks have Xerascaped, but we've heard horror stories about such efforts and want a lawn the kids can play on), so all of us hear a meter ticking when we waste water.
So, the rub is when I go in to just contribute back to the water situation, but someone has already taken up the urinal. (The following has occurred more than once, btw.) I can't just stand there and wait because one of the unwritten social rules of men's bathrooms is you don't wait if there's an open head. If there is one and you just stand there, it's assumed you're George Michael and have dubious intent. Thus, I travel on by to the toilet, but - lo! - apparently the other guy finished tapping off at that moment and leaves the urinal. Not wanting to waste gallons of toilet water, I stop and re-direct to the urinal. But, alas, the toilet had already spotted me and starts to flush. Oh no! Dash to the toilet in hopes of finishing before it does, but then the urinal has spotted you, too, and starts to flush as well!
And then you realize that two inanimate toilets have made you cha-cha around the can like a spaz on his first-ever hit of ecstasy at a rave (not that I'd know about that experience first hand, mind you - I'm just guessing).
Then, the resentment sets in, and you go snark about it on your blog.
___________
Update:
More on Adams being right:
Weight of the Universe (and, thus, everything).
In Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy, Adams' postulated that machines with anthropomorphic personalities would prove fantastically annoying to most people.
While I didn't doubt that bit of wisdom at the time, I now have first-hand proof that it's true.
First, a lot of the places I frequent started putting in doors that open automatically, Star Trek style. If you've ever seen the wonderful blooper reel from the original series, it contains about 5 minutes of the cast bashing into a door because the guy who was supposed to swish it open missed a cue. Well, I have now walked right into doors that look like they should open automatically but don't. I can swear I hear the high-pitched laughter of sparrows after I've done that.
Then, I started encountering paper towel dispensers that operate when you wave at them, or place your hands beneath them. I don't know about you, but forcing me to wave or hold my hands out in supplication to a machine just makes me feel like a doofus.
There are sinks that tinkle on you when you hold your hands beneath them. Not such a big deal, but the sensors on them seem over-sensitive, and as I've been scrubbing sometimes, the water jets on and off like a little aqua-disco. Again, not a big deal, but it does make you pause and devotes a few cycles of synaptic work to grasp what's occurring. Sinks should not make you have to think, I think.
The most egregious offender, though, is the automatically flushing toilet.
I saw a report once where they were trying to prove if you could pick up stuff from a toilet seat (verdict: bacterial stuff, yes, but rarely; viral, almost never), but they did show how much splash-back was created by the power-flushes that most public toilets have. It leaves a pretty solid misting on the seat if you leave it down. You can test this yourself by putting one of those paper guards on and see what's left after a flush. The upshot (put intended) is if you have your rear on the thing when it goes, your tushie is misted with water that contains the leavings of those before you.
Let's stop and collectively shudder before I go on.
Well. One of the toilets I frequent mistakes a lean too far for an "all clear" and fires up the hurricane. So, you have to shuffle away until it finishes. A lovely moment, I can assure you.
Worse though is how you're "locked in" to the cycle if you come too near a toilet, meaning it will flush if get in general vicinity, then move away.
So what, you say?
In Colorado, we have water conservation pounded into our skulls via constant doom-laden public service announcements, and several-hundred-dollar watering bills. (Ours hovers between $150 and $250 during the summer when we're watering our lawn, which is HOA commanded. Some folks have Xerascaped, but we've heard horror stories about such efforts and want a lawn the kids can play on), so all of us hear a meter ticking when we waste water.
So, the rub is when I go in to just contribute back to the water situation, but someone has already taken up the urinal. (The following has occurred more than once, btw.) I can't just stand there and wait because one of the unwritten social rules of men's bathrooms is you don't wait if there's an open head. If there is one and you just stand there, it's assumed you're George Michael and have dubious intent. Thus, I travel on by to the toilet, but - lo! - apparently the other guy finished tapping off at that moment and leaves the urinal. Not wanting to waste gallons of toilet water, I stop and re-direct to the urinal. But, alas, the toilet had already spotted me and starts to flush. Oh no! Dash to the toilet in hopes of finishing before it does, but then the urinal has spotted you, too, and starts to flush as well!
And then you realize that two inanimate toilets have made you cha-cha around the can like a spaz on his first-ever hit of ecstasy at a rave (not that I'd know about that experience first hand, mind you - I'm just guessing).
Then, the resentment sets in, and you go snark about it on your blog.
___________
Update:
More on Adams being right:
Weight of the Universe (and, thus, everything).
It's a planet! Who knew? Part 3
(Heard while traveling somewhere in the mommy-van with my family.)
In my daughter's 4th-grade science class this last school year, one of the students pronounced the name of the planet Uranus like I was taught to: "Yer-anus."
The teacher corrected him and said it's pronounced: "Urine-us."
After a beat, one of the girls piped up and asked: "How does THAT make it any better?"
(Heard while traveling somewhere in the mommy-van with my family.)
In my daughter's 4th-grade science class this last school year, one of the students pronounced the name of the planet Uranus like I was taught to: "Yer-anus."
The teacher corrected him and said it's pronounced: "Urine-us."
After a beat, one of the girls piped up and asked: "How does THAT make it any better?"
A definition of Art
Kottke.org linked to this great crash course in constitutional law, and while it is as advertised, it also makes a great statement of - perhaps even a perfect definition of - "what is art?":
"Also, you have no right to dance naked unless you are a really, really good dancer, in which case it becomes art." - Walter Delinger
Kottke.org linked to this great crash course in constitutional law, and while it is as advertised, it also makes a great statement of - perhaps even a perfect definition of - "what is art?":
"Also, you have no right to dance naked unless you are a really, really good dancer, in which case it becomes art." - Walter Delinger
Friday, June 29, 2007
Out there, somewhere
Links and stuff to stuff and links. I've been collecting these for a bit, so I don't have credits for where I found them, most humble apologies. My sources are usually Digg, Kottke.org, or Stumbleupon.
- Interesting factoid
- Vibrator Found In Unconscious Hit And Run Victim. (And they mystery as to why she stepped out in front of a moving car is solved as well.)
- Mesmerizing morph of paintings of women.
- Terrible (or great) place names
- This says it all - The Royal Fart
- Which, by the way, allows me to plug one of the best kid's books ever: Good Families Don't by Robert Munsch. Btw, if you want to read this online right now, this is one of those that Amazon.com lets you search. Since "fart" appears on every page, searching for that word effectively lets you read the book.
- I'm not a Sopranos fan, so all the recent hoopola about the ending (or the non-ending) is lost on me. But, if you are a fan, the Hillary Clinton campaign spoofs the final scene in the unveiling of their campaign song. Even though I don't get the references, I think it's clever. (Don't consider this an endorsement. I think if Hillary gets the nomination, we'll have 4 more years of Republicans.)
- Something I've been looking for since the web started getting content other than vanity pages with garish backgrounds and animated GIFs: Book summaries!
- Heck, if you want to read the real thing, this guy lets you borrow some of his ebooks.
- This is a tad NSFW, but talk about PWNED!
- Finally, caption this:
Links and stuff to stuff and links. I've been collecting these for a bit, so I don't have credits for where I found them, most humble apologies. My sources are usually Digg, Kottke.org, or Stumbleupon.
- Interesting factoid
- Vibrator Found In Unconscious Hit And Run Victim. (And they mystery as to why she stepped out in front of a moving car is solved as well.)
- Mesmerizing morph of paintings of women.
- Terrible (or great) place names
- This says it all - The Royal Fart
- Which, by the way, allows me to plug one of the best kid's books ever: Good Families Don't by Robert Munsch. Btw, if you want to read this online right now, this is one of those that Amazon.com lets you search. Since "fart" appears on every page, searching for that word effectively lets you read the book.
- I'm not a Sopranos fan, so all the recent hoopola about the ending (or the non-ending) is lost on me. But, if you are a fan, the Hillary Clinton campaign spoofs the final scene in the unveiling of their campaign song. Even though I don't get the references, I think it's clever. (Don't consider this an endorsement. I think if Hillary gets the nomination, we'll have 4 more years of Republicans.)
- Something I've been looking for since the web started getting content other than vanity pages with garish backgrounds and animated GIFs: Book summaries!
- Heck, if you want to read the real thing, this guy lets you borrow some of his ebooks.
- This is a tad NSFW, but talk about PWNED!
- Finally, caption this:
Reviewage - June 2007
Rant: An Oral Biography of Buster Casey by Chuck Palahniuk
Ah, Chuck. I have a like / dislike thing with Chuck (love / hate is too strong).
I like what he attempts as an author, but he loves to dwell on the grotesque. I know there's an audience for that kind of thing, but I just slog through it because I think he's got an interesting perspective when he's not trying to make me chunder.
"Rant" is the story of the guy who inadvertently triggers a plague that halves the population in the near future, 12 Monkeys style. Actually, it has a LOT in common with that story, and is almost a retelling of it, with a dash of The Man Who Folded Himself thrown in.
"Rant" is structured as an oral history, so it's all individual paragraphs of supposed quotes introduced by the person's name. It makes for a tough read and Palahniuk almost pulls it off, but I think the form itself is flawed.
I just skim-read The Dirty Life and Times of Warren Zevon (read roughly 50% of it), which was in the same format, and was an actual oral history in the exact same format. And even though it was about an interesting rock star, the format made it dull.
Which points to the achievement (however dubious) of Palahniuk's, since he manages to still propel you through the narrative, and have it gel (though not without the work the format demands).
I would recommend this one for fans, and for folks who like to take whacks at experimental forms of fiction, but for those looking for a nice summer read, just get the boy with the lightening scar on his forehead.
Nineteen Minutes by Jodi Picoult
Full disclosure, I skipped 90% of the description and 67.8% of the characters in this windy novel.
That in itself if probably enough of a review.
When I hit about the 4th lengthy character introduction in the 1st chapter, I flipped back to the author's info page. And there was one of the classic warning signs: it was all about the author's awards and Ivy League schools she attended. I just gotta remember to stick to my guidelines. (Which are: (1) read the jacket notes until it starts giving away the plot, then stop; 2) read the "about the author" section (the more awards listed, the more likely the book will suck), 3) read the first few paragraphs and see if it grabs; and 4) read a random page in the middle to see if it gets boring (on the premise that most authors hone the intro, but can get lazy later).)
What intrigued me about her in the first place was her web site, and the stuff she had on her career thus far and the interesting fact that she was huge in Australia before she took off here in the states. Usually an increasing fan base means something, and I am gonna give her My Sister's Keeper a try, because that's supposed to be her best.
The core of the novel is an attempt (largely a failed one, imvho) of trying to show how the kid who does the shooting became the way he is. I felt it was unconvincing because the kid's just picked on somewhat brutally, something I have first-hand experience in, and it would take something more than that for someone to become a lone gunman. There has to be some other kind of psychotic break or sociopathy.
Which made me remember Vonnegut's advice on writing bad guys, which in a nutshell says, "don't explain why the bad guy is bad." It dilutes the character, and it might make the audience identify with him, which they won't like.
The only novel that has tried this and succeeded in my opinion is Harris' The Red Dragon. And even it makes you feel icky, because you DO understand the killer's motivations all too well.
I have to brand myself as a bit of a hypocrite here, though, because the only part of the novel I read had to do with the bad guy. I also read the parts about the girl who was his childhood buddy, but only when it had to do with the shooter and not her cruel boyfriend. So, I read the part I said the author shouldn't have attempted - and then have the gall to say she shouldn't have.
If I ever run into her, she has all rights to accuse me of being full of shite, I think.
Arcade Fire - Neon Bible
Like Whisky Prajer, this album has me scratching my head.
Critics collectively had to go home and change their skivvies after a listen, but the sheer orgasmic strain in their voices made me skeptical, since the last time they acted this way was for The Strokes, who, imvho, are named appropriately.
Still, I had to have a listen, so off to the library.
The first thing I noticed was the abyssal monotony of the drumming. Dear God, from groove 1 (yes, CDs have grooves of a sort) all the way to the lead-out, it's the same freakin' beat. While I always prefer a real live drummer over a beat box, in this case they could've saved a salary and no one would have been the wiser.
Second, it sounds like crep. The production makes it sound as if they recorded in a muddy, windy field. Knowing that sometimes the artists produce for a specific sound environment (for instance, the Cars always listened to the final mix in a car to make sure it sounded good in there), I tried it in the car, on my good stereo, on my ancient backup basement stereo, through headphones and a boom box. Crep, crep, crep, and crep. Each environment actually brought forth another deficiency in the mix. Was their producer deaf?
If you want to hear an amazing production - outside of anything Alan Parsons touched as a producer - Radiohead's OK Computer is an achievement. On a good stereo, it sounds a thousand miles wide, yet you can hear the smallest sonic details, too. I hope they kick out a DVD version of this someday.
Arcade Fire, are you listening? (Pun intended.)
TLD: I'd like to address the summary on Amazon.com for Ok Computer, which says: "an album about the way machines dehumanize people". Uh, right. Y'know maybe that's the case, but the title, and even many of the musical themes are taken from Douglas Adams' Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy, where "OK computer" was the typical sarcastic response the characters had to the ship's computer. The British TV series' theme music is laced throughout the album, too. So, I'd suggest that the album isn't as glum as Amazon suggests. It's got a nice sense of humor behind it.
Shut Up and Sing
A documentary on the Dixie Chicks and the infamous media shunning.
I've been avoiding most political stuff because when we're in the situation we're in (f'ed until the next election - assuming that one's not fixed, too), because there's no point in walking around pissed off all the time.
This documentary is worth the angst. It's a great snapshot of the group, and it's a phenomenal document of what it's like to be in the midst of a cultural perfect storm. I bet when the existing Beatles watch this, they'll be reminded of when Lennon made his famous "more popular than Jesus" remark (and pissed off the exact same bunch of rednecks).
The thing that still sticks in my craw is there is an entire industry (Rush, Faux News, and so on) built around bashing any Democratic president (any Democrat, really), and the same poltroons who got bent out of shape about Maines' mild "We're embarrassed that the president is from Texas" were the ones who typically said that Clinton was "not my president". Yes, pointing out this blatant hypocrisy is like pointing out that the wind is made of air, but apparently for these numbnuts, you gotta paint them a picture.
[Sigh.]
Anyway, even if you're not a fan, you'll enjoy Shut up and sing.
Especially gripping is the part where they're going on stage to do a show where they've received death threats. They fully expect to get shot at while performing. The looks on their faces, the hugs they give their husbands and kids -- it's chilling.
Get thee hence.
Btw, I tried to watch Jesus Camp, but since I have a lot of first-hand experience with these kinds of folks, I didn't need to subject myself to the horrors of this movie. If you don't know what goes on in right-wing, fundamentalist Christian churches, you should put yourself through this, maybe. But don't expect to enjoy the trip.
Fantastic Four, Rise of the Silver Surfer
I don't why critics and fanboys are so hard in the Fantastic Four films. They're a lot like the comics - light and somewhat clever.
I enjoyed the first one, and thought this one was a fine follow-up.
I have to give away one great line, so those of you who hate any spoilers, move along....
The Human Torch asks The Thing how he and his girlfriend have sex, to which The Thing barks, "None of your business!" To which THT says, "Ok, I just didn't want to discover that she'd died in a rockslide or something."
Music & Lyrics
A fun light romantic comedy about a 80s music has-been (not so subtle reference to Andrew Ridgeley of WHAM! fame) and a literary girl whose affair with her college prof. is the subject of a best-seller.
Hugh Grant and Drew Barrymore are just about the best things we have going in the romantic comedy genre these days (both About a Boy and 50 First Dates should be on your must-see list if you haven't enjoyed them already). They are both willing to look silly, and manage to pull off believable characters in essentially goofy movies.
This is a perfect light entertainment on a night where you just want to chuckle a bit and not worry about shit. (Yes, I can be a poet.) Make sure you check out the blooper reel.
Ghost Rider
While I enjoyed this one, it was, to me, the second worst effort so far in the comic book character genre ("The Hulk" being the worst).
The problem is that there's a loooong leadup to the obligatory part where the hero morphs into whatever thing s/he's going to be. But then, without explanation, he suddenly begins screaming, and turns into a burning skeleton. WTF? essentially.
Another character later explains to him what's going on, so we're clued in too. But, if you're going to do an abrupt thing like that, you gotta telegraph it better. It's not effective in the same way as having Norman pop out of nowhere in a Sunday-go-tah-meetin' dress and stab the heroine in the shower. No, we want a little foreplay before we meet the bone-man, so to speak.
The rest of the movie is serviceable, though I wonder if the "three elements" demons were borrowed from Big Trouble in Little China or if BTILC borrowed them from the comic books (which I never read).
Oh, and this movie also trots out two of the hoariest cliches from the comic book world: 1) the Judeo/Christian religious view can't be adequately addressed unless the character is some incarnation of the devil (see Daredevil, Hellboy, and X-men), 2) girls are unattainable, but still remain virgins and wait around until the hero needs them, but then play hard to get anyway. Do you suppose Stan Lee ever got laid before the age of 30?
Hey, if you want to read better reviews than mine (not that finding them is all that difficult), but want to know who lines up with your tastes the best, try this site:
Which Movie Reviews Should I Believe?
It got me dead-on:
Rotten Tomatoes : 82%
James Bernadelli : 79%
Peter Travers : 74%
Roger Ebert : 72%
Don't give a rating to movies you haven't seen, btw. It throws it off.
Finally, I just love this jacket cover. I may have to get this framed for my cubie.
Rant: An Oral Biography of Buster Casey by Chuck Palahniuk
Ah, Chuck. I have a like / dislike thing with Chuck (love / hate is too strong).
I like what he attempts as an author, but he loves to dwell on the grotesque. I know there's an audience for that kind of thing, but I just slog through it because I think he's got an interesting perspective when he's not trying to make me chunder.
"Rant" is the story of the guy who inadvertently triggers a plague that halves the population in the near future, 12 Monkeys style. Actually, it has a LOT in common with that story, and is almost a retelling of it, with a dash of The Man Who Folded Himself thrown in.
"Rant" is structured as an oral history, so it's all individual paragraphs of supposed quotes introduced by the person's name. It makes for a tough read and Palahniuk almost pulls it off, but I think the form itself is flawed.
I just skim-read The Dirty Life and Times of Warren Zevon (read roughly 50% of it), which was in the same format, and was an actual oral history in the exact same format. And even though it was about an interesting rock star, the format made it dull.
Which points to the achievement (however dubious) of Palahniuk's, since he manages to still propel you through the narrative, and have it gel (though not without the work the format demands).
I would recommend this one for fans, and for folks who like to take whacks at experimental forms of fiction, but for those looking for a nice summer read, just get the boy with the lightening scar on his forehead.
Nineteen Minutes by Jodi Picoult
Full disclosure, I skipped 90% of the description and 67.8% of the characters in this windy novel.
That in itself if probably enough of a review.
When I hit about the 4th lengthy character introduction in the 1st chapter, I flipped back to the author's info page. And there was one of the classic warning signs: it was all about the author's awards and Ivy League schools she attended. I just gotta remember to stick to my guidelines. (Which are: (1) read the jacket notes until it starts giving away the plot, then stop; 2) read the "about the author" section (the more awards listed, the more likely the book will suck), 3) read the first few paragraphs and see if it grabs; and 4) read a random page in the middle to see if it gets boring (on the premise that most authors hone the intro, but can get lazy later).)
What intrigued me about her in the first place was her web site, and the stuff she had on her career thus far and the interesting fact that she was huge in Australia before she took off here in the states. Usually an increasing fan base means something, and I am gonna give her My Sister's Keeper a try, because that's supposed to be her best.
The core of the novel is an attempt (largely a failed one, imvho) of trying to show how the kid who does the shooting became the way he is. I felt it was unconvincing because the kid's just picked on somewhat brutally, something I have first-hand experience in, and it would take something more than that for someone to become a lone gunman. There has to be some other kind of psychotic break or sociopathy.
Which made me remember Vonnegut's advice on writing bad guys, which in a nutshell says, "don't explain why the bad guy is bad." It dilutes the character, and it might make the audience identify with him, which they won't like.
The only novel that has tried this and succeeded in my opinion is Harris' The Red Dragon. And even it makes you feel icky, because you DO understand the killer's motivations all too well.
I have to brand myself as a bit of a hypocrite here, though, because the only part of the novel I read had to do with the bad guy. I also read the parts about the girl who was his childhood buddy, but only when it had to do with the shooter and not her cruel boyfriend. So, I read the part I said the author shouldn't have attempted - and then have the gall to say she shouldn't have.
If I ever run into her, she has all rights to accuse me of being full of shite, I think.
Arcade Fire - Neon Bible
Like Whisky Prajer, this album has me scratching my head.
Critics collectively had to go home and change their skivvies after a listen, but the sheer orgasmic strain in their voices made me skeptical, since the last time they acted this way was for The Strokes, who, imvho, are named appropriately.
Still, I had to have a listen, so off to the library.
The first thing I noticed was the abyssal monotony of the drumming. Dear God, from groove 1 (yes, CDs have grooves of a sort) all the way to the lead-out, it's the same freakin' beat. While I always prefer a real live drummer over a beat box, in this case they could've saved a salary and no one would have been the wiser.
Second, it sounds like crep. The production makes it sound as if they recorded in a muddy, windy field. Knowing that sometimes the artists produce for a specific sound environment (for instance, the Cars always listened to the final mix in a car to make sure it sounded good in there), I tried it in the car, on my good stereo, on my ancient backup basement stereo, through headphones and a boom box. Crep, crep, crep, and crep. Each environment actually brought forth another deficiency in the mix. Was their producer deaf?
If you want to hear an amazing production - outside of anything Alan Parsons touched as a producer - Radiohead's OK Computer is an achievement. On a good stereo, it sounds a thousand miles wide, yet you can hear the smallest sonic details, too. I hope they kick out a DVD version of this someday.
Arcade Fire, are you listening? (Pun intended.)
TLD: I'd like to address the summary on Amazon.com for Ok Computer, which says: "an album about the way machines dehumanize people". Uh, right. Y'know maybe that's the case, but the title, and even many of the musical themes are taken from Douglas Adams' Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy, where "OK computer" was the typical sarcastic response the characters had to the ship's computer. The British TV series' theme music is laced throughout the album, too. So, I'd suggest that the album isn't as glum as Amazon suggests. It's got a nice sense of humor behind it.
Shut Up and Sing
A documentary on the Dixie Chicks and the infamous media shunning.
I've been avoiding most political stuff because when we're in the situation we're in (f'ed until the next election - assuming that one's not fixed, too), because there's no point in walking around pissed off all the time.
This documentary is worth the angst. It's a great snapshot of the group, and it's a phenomenal document of what it's like to be in the midst of a cultural perfect storm. I bet when the existing Beatles watch this, they'll be reminded of when Lennon made his famous "more popular than Jesus" remark (and pissed off the exact same bunch of rednecks).
The thing that still sticks in my craw is there is an entire industry (Rush, Faux News, and so on) built around bashing any Democratic president (any Democrat, really), and the same poltroons who got bent out of shape about Maines' mild "We're embarrassed that the president is from Texas" were the ones who typically said that Clinton was "not my president". Yes, pointing out this blatant hypocrisy is like pointing out that the wind is made of air, but apparently for these numbnuts, you gotta paint them a picture.
[Sigh.]
Anyway, even if you're not a fan, you'll enjoy Shut up and sing.
Especially gripping is the part where they're going on stage to do a show where they've received death threats. They fully expect to get shot at while performing. The looks on their faces, the hugs they give their husbands and kids -- it's chilling.
Get thee hence.
Btw, I tried to watch Jesus Camp, but since I have a lot of first-hand experience with these kinds of folks, I didn't need to subject myself to the horrors of this movie. If you don't know what goes on in right-wing, fundamentalist Christian churches, you should put yourself through this, maybe. But don't expect to enjoy the trip.
Fantastic Four, Rise of the Silver Surfer
I don't why critics and fanboys are so hard in the Fantastic Four films. They're a lot like the comics - light and somewhat clever.
I enjoyed the first one, and thought this one was a fine follow-up.
I have to give away one great line, so those of you who hate any spoilers, move along....
The Human Torch asks The Thing how he and his girlfriend have sex, to which The Thing barks, "None of your business!" To which THT says, "Ok, I just didn't want to discover that she'd died in a rockslide or something."
Music & Lyrics
A fun light romantic comedy about a 80s music has-been (not so subtle reference to Andrew Ridgeley of WHAM! fame) and a literary girl whose affair with her college prof. is the subject of a best-seller.
Hugh Grant and Drew Barrymore are just about the best things we have going in the romantic comedy genre these days (both About a Boy and 50 First Dates should be on your must-see list if you haven't enjoyed them already). They are both willing to look silly, and manage to pull off believable characters in essentially goofy movies.
This is a perfect light entertainment on a night where you just want to chuckle a bit and not worry about shit. (Yes, I can be a poet.) Make sure you check out the blooper reel.
Ghost Rider
While I enjoyed this one, it was, to me, the second worst effort so far in the comic book character genre ("The Hulk" being the worst).
The problem is that there's a loooong leadup to the obligatory part where the hero morphs into whatever thing s/he's going to be. But then, without explanation, he suddenly begins screaming, and turns into a burning skeleton. WTF? essentially.
Another character later explains to him what's going on, so we're clued in too. But, if you're going to do an abrupt thing like that, you gotta telegraph it better. It's not effective in the same way as having Norman pop out of nowhere in a Sunday-go-tah-meetin' dress and stab the heroine in the shower. No, we want a little foreplay before we meet the bone-man, so to speak.
The rest of the movie is serviceable, though I wonder if the "three elements" demons were borrowed from Big Trouble in Little China or if BTILC borrowed them from the comic books (which I never read).
Oh, and this movie also trots out two of the hoariest cliches from the comic book world: 1) the Judeo/Christian religious view can't be adequately addressed unless the character is some incarnation of the devil (see Daredevil, Hellboy, and X-men), 2) girls are unattainable, but still remain virgins and wait around until the hero needs them, but then play hard to get anyway. Do you suppose Stan Lee ever got laid before the age of 30?
Hey, if you want to read better reviews than mine (not that finding them is all that difficult), but want to know who lines up with your tastes the best, try this site:
Which Movie Reviews Should I Believe?
It got me dead-on:
Rotten Tomatoes : 82%
James Bernadelli : 79%
Peter Travers : 74%
Roger Ebert : 72%
Don't give a rating to movies you haven't seen, btw. It throws it off.
Finally, I just love this jacket cover. I may have to get this framed for my cubie.
Monday, June 18, 2007
Two
I have (only) two major phobias. One is puking, the other is these bastards.
As a kid, I found something in the yard once that I didn't recognize, and it was one of these that hadn't successfully emerged from the cocoon. When I picked it up, its legs grabbed me and those antenna whipped around. Were it a movie, the next shot would have been a distant aerial shot (helicopter or something) as a scream rings out across the valley.
If one of these were to land on me, my body would simply drop as my soul fled.
(Fro those of you who haven't encountered one, they are the size of a sparrow.)
As a kid, I found something in the yard once that I didn't recognize, and it was one of these that hadn't successfully emerged from the cocoon. When I picked it up, its legs grabbed me and those antenna whipped around. Were it a movie, the next shot would have been a distant aerial shot (helicopter or something) as a scream rings out across the valley.
If one of these were to land on me, my body would simply drop as my soul fled.
(Fro those of you who haven't encountered one, they are the size of a sparrow.)
Monday, June 11, 2007
The Teenage Trauma of Buying Birth Control
True story:
My senior prom was neigh, and I had a really hot date. She was even from out of town, and looked like a brunette Farah Fawcett. To this day, I don't know how I managed to draw her attention, but there you are. Met her at church camp, which we guys attended only because the girl to guy ratio was a very favorable 3 to 1. The guys at my school were duly impressed, and I even had the upper crust of the jocks stopping me in the hall and asking where I had found such a hottie (insult clearly intended).
The hottie had hinted around that we'd most likely have a fun time after the prom as well, so I decided it was time to procure myself some birth control.
I knew this was going to take some planning to limit potential for extreme embarrassment, like getting caught by one of the girls from school, a parent I knew, etc. So here it was: I was a senior, and our study-halls were "free," meaning we could leave campus. I had one in the early morning, and anyone else with the same would use it to sleep in, thereby limiting the potential for bumping into aforementioned female classmates. I would sweep the store and scope out any parental units I knew, and if none where in evidence, I would steal back to the drug dept. and get my booty. I would request a paper bag for opacity. Not foolproof, but still a strong plan.
At first it went smoothly, and so I sidled up to the counter. The ancient drug store clerk was shuffling around in the back, and I knew it would take a while before she pretended to notice me and come forward, so I held the package in my hand until she actually made it to the counter five minutes later.
The moment arrived, I placed it on the counter, and she began to peck at the keys to ring it up. A puzzled expression crossed her droopy face and she halted for about 20 seconds. "Oh dear, I've entered it incorrectly," she mumbled, and took out a page-long form she claimed had to fill out when she'd erred. She bent over painfully after a protracted search for a pen, and began filling it out.
By the time she completed it, a queue of about 5 octogenarians had formed behind me. Embarrassing, but I didn't know any of them, thank God.
This was the time I figured out one of the societal patterns of the gray panthers. They're up at the butt-crack of dawn since they can't sleep, and by this time they've had their coffee at the shop and caught up with who died in the night, so it was time to pick up the meds and think about whether they'd have ice cream or a donut for brunch. Not only was I making them field-test their support hose by making them stand there, I was cutting into ice cream time, and perhaps even risking someone missing the first of their stories (their nomenclature for the daytime soaps).
Prunella had completed the form and was back to pecking the keys, when the exact same puzzled expression crossed her face, complete with a pause of the exact same length, and she mumbled, "I did it again." She had kept the pen out this time, but had to extract another form.
At this point I asked, "Do you have to fill it out again? Can't you note on the last one that it happened twice?"
I was young, so you'll have to forgive me about not knowing better. Of course, this gave rise to a bubble of wrath from Prunella who explained that it could not be so, and why. At length. Then she bent to the form.
By now the line of white, pink, and blue heads was stacked up fifteen behind me, with everyone taking their turn to bend sideways and shoot me a look, some looking at the item I was purchasing, planting me with a grim sneer, since I was a teenager buying sex products. Shame, shame on me.
I reached out and slid the box in front of me so the gawkers couldn't see it, but this made Prunella stop and inform me in that cat-scratch voice some elder women can summon that she needs to see the numbers on the box so stop moving it, and she slid it even further out for clearer viewing behind me. The "tsk, tsk" chorus behind me sounded like chickens pecking for feed. People were even beginning to mumble opinions about me and my purchase to each other. And I heard the words "my stories" a couple times.
After all this, she finally rings it up right, and then bags it in a clear plastic bag, which she actually went out of her way to go back and get. I asked for a brown paper bag and she informed me she had already given me a bag, to which I responded I'd give it back when she gave me the paper one. She bestowed upon me one of those lingering, withering Jack Benny glares, fished out a paper bag and handed it to me.
The only way to escape the counter, the way the store was configured, was to turn and walk past the line that had formed. If the weight of frowns could actually cause physical damage, I would've been crushed like a grape at that moment.
In case you're wondering, the protection never made it out from under the seat of my car. Yes, some fun was had, but her hinting turned out not to be about a home run, but something a little more afield, if you get my drift.
BC purchase humiliation doesn't stop in old age either, I've found.
(I think I've already told this one, but am too lazy to check, so if you've read this one, surf on.)
On a trip to the grocery store once, my lovely wife dispatched me to go get some condoms. When I arrived at the aisle, three teenage girls were in the midst of it, presumably selecting feminine hygiene products, so even though my target was at the beginning of the aisle, to save us all a round of blushes, I blithely cruised past and continued on to the magazine rack which thankfully was a couple rows down.
The girls either were not in actual shopping mode and just talking, or they were indecisive, because some time passed, and my wife appeared at the end of the aisle, right by the condoms. Before I could do anything - and I saw it coming because my wife looked at the condoms, looked pointedly at me with that special look all wives cultivate to communicate to their husbands that they are questioning their ability to go around unsupervised - she points at the rack and yells, "Honey, the condoms are right here!"
The three teenage heads swivel to her, turn ever so slightly to look at the rack of rubbers, then they all spin to gaze aghast at me. Then they predictably do that thing we've all seen teenage girls do where they all huddled together leaning forward and do a group giggle.
Blushing to the roots of my hair, I plodded past them, plucked a package from the selection, said, "Thanks Hon." and continued on my way. About then it dawned on my wife what she'd done to me, and I had to endure her laughing her ass off all the way back to the car.
Love that woman.
Bash #768409
<Scotty> Oh my fucking God. I just spent the best 20 dollars of my life. On a bet, anyway.
<Scotty> After school, me and my friends went to the drug store.
<Scotty> And my friend brought a box of condoms to the counter.
<Scotty> And she scanned them.
<Scotty> And he acted like he didn't have enough money.
<Scotty> He was like, "Shit, I'll be right back."
<Scotty> So he puts the condoms back, and comes back with a bag of rubber bands in one hand and a box of plastic wrap in the other.
<Scotty> Oh my fucking God
<Scotty> Until the day I die
<Scotty> I will never forget that lady's face.
<DanT> haha
<Scotty> Best bet I've ever lost.
True story:
My senior prom was neigh, and I had a really hot date. She was even from out of town, and looked like a brunette Farah Fawcett. To this day, I don't know how I managed to draw her attention, but there you are. Met her at church camp, which we guys attended only because the girl to guy ratio was a very favorable 3 to 1. The guys at my school were duly impressed, and I even had the upper crust of the jocks stopping me in the hall and asking where I had found such a hottie (insult clearly intended).
TLD: I have always been and will forever be a total geek when it comes to dating women (so thank God I'm married to a wonderful woman). I lack the knack so completely that somewhere in my late 20s (a year before I met my wife through a blind date, if I recall the timeline correctly) I had resigned myself to being single - which was quasi-OK, save for the one woman at work who became convinced I was gay and actively started introducing me to "nice guys." (Which had its own entertainment value as the guys could tell within seconds I was straight, and it was fun to watch their faces fall when the realization dawned. Not "fun" out of any mean-spirited thing, but just kinda like watching that guy at the meat market who can't get anyone to dance with him.) Ironically, at the time, I was having my formative "older woman" relationship with someone at the same company, so we kept it mum since she was an executive and I was a drone. For all young geeks out there, I do recommend Benjamin Franklin's advice on having "older woman" companions prior to marriage at some point.
The hottie had hinted around that we'd most likely have a fun time after the prom as well, so I decided it was time to procure myself some birth control.
I knew this was going to take some planning to limit potential for extreme embarrassment, like getting caught by one of the girls from school, a parent I knew, etc. So here it was: I was a senior, and our study-halls were "free," meaning we could leave campus. I had one in the early morning, and anyone else with the same would use it to sleep in, thereby limiting the potential for bumping into aforementioned female classmates. I would sweep the store and scope out any parental units I knew, and if none where in evidence, I would steal back to the drug dept. and get my booty. I would request a paper bag for opacity. Not foolproof, but still a strong plan.
At first it went smoothly, and so I sidled up to the counter. The ancient drug store clerk was shuffling around in the back, and I knew it would take a while before she pretended to notice me and come forward, so I held the package in my hand until she actually made it to the counter five minutes later.
The moment arrived, I placed it on the counter, and she began to peck at the keys to ring it up. A puzzled expression crossed her droopy face and she halted for about 20 seconds. "Oh dear, I've entered it incorrectly," she mumbled, and took out a page-long form she claimed had to fill out when she'd erred. She bent over painfully after a protracted search for a pen, and began filling it out.
By the time she completed it, a queue of about 5 octogenarians had formed behind me. Embarrassing, but I didn't know any of them, thank God.
This was the time I figured out one of the societal patterns of the gray panthers. They're up at the butt-crack of dawn since they can't sleep, and by this time they've had their coffee at the shop and caught up with who died in the night, so it was time to pick up the meds and think about whether they'd have ice cream or a donut for brunch. Not only was I making them field-test their support hose by making them stand there, I was cutting into ice cream time, and perhaps even risking someone missing the first of their stories (their nomenclature for the daytime soaps).
Prunella had completed the form and was back to pecking the keys, when the exact same puzzled expression crossed her face, complete with a pause of the exact same length, and she mumbled, "I did it again." She had kept the pen out this time, but had to extract another form.
At this point I asked, "Do you have to fill it out again? Can't you note on the last one that it happened twice?"
I was young, so you'll have to forgive me about not knowing better. Of course, this gave rise to a bubble of wrath from Prunella who explained that it could not be so, and why. At length. Then she bent to the form.
By now the line of white, pink, and blue heads was stacked up fifteen behind me, with everyone taking their turn to bend sideways and shoot me a look, some looking at the item I was purchasing, planting me with a grim sneer, since I was a teenager buying sex products. Shame, shame on me.
I reached out and slid the box in front of me so the gawkers couldn't see it, but this made Prunella stop and inform me in that cat-scratch voice some elder women can summon that she needs to see the numbers on the box so stop moving it, and she slid it even further out for clearer viewing behind me. The "tsk, tsk" chorus behind me sounded like chickens pecking for feed. People were even beginning to mumble opinions about me and my purchase to each other. And I heard the words "my stories" a couple times.
After all this, she finally rings it up right, and then bags it in a clear plastic bag, which she actually went out of her way to go back and get. I asked for a brown paper bag and she informed me she had already given me a bag, to which I responded I'd give it back when she gave me the paper one. She bestowed upon me one of those lingering, withering Jack Benny glares, fished out a paper bag and handed it to me.
The only way to escape the counter, the way the store was configured, was to turn and walk past the line that had formed. If the weight of frowns could actually cause physical damage, I would've been crushed like a grape at that moment.
In case you're wondering, the protection never made it out from under the seat of my car. Yes, some fun was had, but her hinting turned out not to be about a home run, but something a little more afield, if you get my drift.
BC purchase humiliation doesn't stop in old age either, I've found.
(I think I've already told this one, but am too lazy to check, so if you've read this one, surf on.)
On a trip to the grocery store once, my lovely wife dispatched me to go get some condoms. When I arrived at the aisle, three teenage girls were in the midst of it, presumably selecting feminine hygiene products, so even though my target was at the beginning of the aisle, to save us all a round of blushes, I blithely cruised past and continued on to the magazine rack which thankfully was a couple rows down.
The girls either were not in actual shopping mode and just talking, or they were indecisive, because some time passed, and my wife appeared at the end of the aisle, right by the condoms. Before I could do anything - and I saw it coming because my wife looked at the condoms, looked pointedly at me with that special look all wives cultivate to communicate to their husbands that they are questioning their ability to go around unsupervised - she points at the rack and yells, "Honey, the condoms are right here!"
The three teenage heads swivel to her, turn ever so slightly to look at the rack of rubbers, then they all spin to gaze aghast at me. Then they predictably do that thing we've all seen teenage girls do where they all huddled together leaning forward and do a group giggle.
Blushing to the roots of my hair, I plodded past them, plucked a package from the selection, said, "Thanks Hon." and continued on my way. About then it dawned on my wife what she'd done to me, and I had to endure her laughing her ass off all the way back to the car.
Love that woman.
Untouchables
It occurred to me this weekend that Scientology is essentially setting itself up to be even more of a religious pariah than Islam through its treatment of people who disagree with them. (Not that diving planes into buildings full of people is to be misconstrued as less toxic than putting up posters around town about a recent defector from Xenu to the effect that he has a tiny dick; there are some Moslems who are moderate and sane is what I mean.)
If the end of the conversion speech is: "DIE INFIDEL!" or "YOU ARE NOW FAIR GAME!" (or "GO TO HELL!", for that matter), then the potlucks are gonna be a little sparse, tiger.
If you can't discuss a religion openly, it kneecaps its ability to spread.
Yes, Islam has a firm hold on the Middle East, and will probably keep it, but that's about as far as it's going to go. Scientology is already limited to those with a lot of disposable income and time (and the fact that a whacked, drug-addled, D-list Sci-fi author is their prophet), but this "fair game" stuff is perhaps the very working definition of planned obsolescence.
While I view this as a profoundly positive thing, you kinda wonder if they've thought this through.
Btw, here's a fun article on the recent (un)holy war (via Digg). The report of Hitchen's parting shot at Falwell on "Hannity ∧ Colmes" is a gem: "If you gave Jerry Falwell an enema, you could bury him in a matchbox." I'm using that at the next party.
It occurred to me this weekend that Scientology is essentially setting itself up to be even more of a religious pariah than Islam through its treatment of people who disagree with them. (Not that diving planes into buildings full of people is to be misconstrued as less toxic than putting up posters around town about a recent defector from Xenu to the effect that he has a tiny dick; there are some Moslems who are moderate and sane is what I mean.)
If the end of the conversion speech is: "DIE INFIDEL!" or "YOU ARE NOW FAIR GAME!" (or "GO TO HELL!", for that matter), then the potlucks are gonna be a little sparse, tiger.
If you can't discuss a religion openly, it kneecaps its ability to spread.
Yes, Islam has a firm hold on the Middle East, and will probably keep it, but that's about as far as it's going to go. Scientology is already limited to those with a lot of disposable income and time (and the fact that a whacked, drug-addled, D-list Sci-fi author is their prophet), but this "fair game" stuff is perhaps the very working definition of planned obsolescence.
While I view this as a profoundly positive thing, you kinda wonder if they've thought this through.
Btw, here's a fun article on the recent (un)holy war (via Digg). The report of Hitchen's parting shot at Falwell on "Hannity ∧ Colmes" is a gem: "If you gave Jerry Falwell an enema, you could bury him in a matchbox." I'm using that at the next party.
Friday, June 08, 2007
Out there, somewhere
Rolling Stone’s 25 Greatest Songs Off Bad Albums I agree with every selection in this article.
My Scottish blood asserts itself strongest during purchases of artistic products, and while I loved the song "Wild, Wild Life," a listen at a friend's house gave me the impression that the album itself did SUQ. For years, I'd find the album in remainder bins, making the song only about $3, but I was stubborn enough to wait for a hits package years later. When I did find it, it was used copy for $8, plus all the other great studio versions of Talking Heads songs. For the record, though, their only true opus is the live Stop Making Sense album - both the CD and DVD.
I got a $1 copy of the Queen album, and it was pressed really oddly. It sounded terrible. So I had to wait for an anthology later just to hear the song in a good version.
The trick, as noted, is to find a good compilation with these songs on them. Nearly all of them have been included on a superior set.
The Allmusic guide is particularly effective at locating songs on compilations.
This is a hoot. A Creationism museum.
It's located right next to the holocaust denial museum, which of course has one room and with a placard on the wall explaining that the holocaust never happened, which is lit by a Nazi lamp made of human skin, which itself has a placard saying that though DNA analysis appears to show that the lamp is made of human skin, and has genetic markers common to Jewish ancestry, the museum is of the opinion the sample was tainted by a clumsy Jewish lab technician and the shade is really just cowhide. Really. For honest and true.
15 Reasons Mister Rogers Was the Best Neighbor Ever. One of my favorite reasons: "He Saved Both Public Television and the VCR." Though I wonder why "He Watched His Figure to the Pound!" counts as being a good neighbor. Bob Keeshan aka. Captain Kangaroo was also a very good man, but a little portly. Is that really bad?
Here's a nice little article on Sgt. Pepper's
Yes, all we fanboys loves ourselves some brass slave bikini. I'm puzzled yet thrilled that so many women seem to find it fun to try one on (tortured grammar and all).
slaveleia1
Originally uploaded by bonniegrrl.
Even Jennifer Aniston famously had a go at it.
Could this be the iconic image for my generation, in the same way that famous Marilyn Monroe shot of her dress poofing up was for another?
Oddly enough, in researching this post I've discovered one of the few holes in the internet. There does not exist one picture of Christina Pickles (Ross' mom) in the Leia costume, which is sad because it was a truly great moment. And she looked hot. (If anyone can provide a screen shot to me so I can amend this travesty, please send to my email or link to it in a comment.)
Catch 22 sucks. (Via 2Blowhards)
'Tis true. This is one of the few books I've abandoned. Like the guy in the post noted, it's funny at first, but then it starts retreading its own jokes pretty quickly.
Luckily, I had seen the much superior movie prior to attempting the book, so I knew I wasn't really missing anything by deciding to spend my time on something more worthwhile.
Though the whole movie is highly enjoyable, the one extended scene where the bombers take off is truly a cinematic highlight that all buffs should have committed to their gray matter. Also, this is NOT a movie for kids. Besides all the adult humor, it has one of the most graphic (but funny) death scenes ever shot - even considering the canon of Tarantino.
Make sure you check out the interesting Catch 22 trivia on Simon and Garfunkel.
The Coolest Picture Ever, says the label. I think it's pretty spectacular myself.
Finally, in the "Some days you're the bug, some days you're the windshield" Dept.:
Rolling Stone’s 25 Greatest Songs Off Bad Albums I agree with every selection in this article.
My Scottish blood asserts itself strongest during purchases of artistic products, and while I loved the song "Wild, Wild Life," a listen at a friend's house gave me the impression that the album itself did SUQ. For years, I'd find the album in remainder bins, making the song only about $3, but I was stubborn enough to wait for a hits package years later. When I did find it, it was used copy for $8, plus all the other great studio versions of Talking Heads songs. For the record, though, their only true opus is the live Stop Making Sense album - both the CD and DVD.
I got a $1 copy of the Queen album, and it was pressed really oddly. It sounded terrible. So I had to wait for an anthology later just to hear the song in a good version.
The trick, as noted, is to find a good compilation with these songs on them. Nearly all of them have been included on a superior set.
The Allmusic guide is particularly effective at locating songs on compilations.
This is a hoot. A Creationism museum.
It's located right next to the holocaust denial museum, which of course has one room and with a placard on the wall explaining that the holocaust never happened, which is lit by a Nazi lamp made of human skin, which itself has a placard saying that though DNA analysis appears to show that the lamp is made of human skin, and has genetic markers common to Jewish ancestry, the museum is of the opinion the sample was tainted by a clumsy Jewish lab technician and the shade is really just cowhide. Really. For honest and true.
15 Reasons Mister Rogers Was the Best Neighbor Ever. One of my favorite reasons: "He Saved Both Public Television and the VCR." Though I wonder why "He Watched His Figure to the Pound!" counts as being a good neighbor. Bob Keeshan aka. Captain Kangaroo was also a very good man, but a little portly. Is that really bad?
Here's a nice little article on Sgt. Pepper's
Yes, all we fanboys loves ourselves some brass slave bikini. I'm puzzled yet thrilled that so many women seem to find it fun to try one on (tortured grammar and all).
slaveleia1 Originally uploaded by bonniegrrl.
Even Jennifer Aniston famously had a go at it.
Could this be the iconic image for my generation, in the same way that famous Marilyn Monroe shot of her dress poofing up was for another?
Oddly enough, in researching this post I've discovered one of the few holes in the internet. There does not exist one picture of Christina Pickles (Ross' mom) in the Leia costume, which is sad because it was a truly great moment. And she looked hot. (If anyone can provide a screen shot to me so I can amend this travesty, please send to my email or link to it in a comment.)
Catch 22 sucks. (Via 2Blowhards)
'Tis true. This is one of the few books I've abandoned. Like the guy in the post noted, it's funny at first, but then it starts retreading its own jokes pretty quickly.
Luckily, I had seen the much superior movie prior to attempting the book, so I knew I wasn't really missing anything by deciding to spend my time on something more worthwhile.
Though the whole movie is highly enjoyable, the one extended scene where the bombers take off is truly a cinematic highlight that all buffs should have committed to their gray matter. Also, this is NOT a movie for kids. Besides all the adult humor, it has one of the most graphic (but funny) death scenes ever shot - even considering the canon of Tarantino.
Make sure you check out the interesting Catch 22 trivia on Simon and Garfunkel.
The Coolest Picture Ever, says the label. I think it's pretty spectacular myself.
Finally, in the "Some days you're the bug, some days you're the windshield" Dept.:
Wednesday, May 23, 2007
Thanks for asking...
Please wait while we dispatch someone to relieve you of your computer; you are too stupid to own one.
(Beaver.)
Please wait while we dispatch someone to relieve you of your computer; you are too stupid to own one.
(Beaver.)
Dam it!
The unintended theme today is beavers, apparently, and prurient post titles.
My favorite official communication is still the one regarding Australopithecus spiff-arino, but this one's a dam close second.
The unintended theme today is beavers, apparently, and prurient post titles.
My favorite official communication is still the one regarding Australopithecus spiff-arino, but this one's a dam close second.
Show me your beaver
I'm a fan of case mods, where you stuff a PC into something other than a beige box.
I've done two myself, one where I put a PC on two parallel pieces of Plexiglas, a failure because it's noisy as hell, and one where I wanted a rustic wooden box, but due to the motherboard size, ended up being a monstrosity of a bird house, a failure as well. Someday though!
Here someone uses a stuffed beaver for the case.
I want.
I'm a fan of case mods, where you stuff a PC into something other than a beige box.
I've done two myself, one where I put a PC on two parallel pieces of Plexiglas, a failure because it's noisy as hell, and one where I wanted a rustic wooden box, but due to the motherboard size, ended up being a monstrosity of a bird house, a failure as well. Someday though!
Here someone uses a stuffed beaver for the case.
I want.
Tuesday, May 22, 2007
The Force is Freakin' Heavy
Read The Making of Star Wars: The Definitive Story Behind the Original Film, and it was a chore, because when the book is open, it's 2 feet wide and a foot tall and weighs 6 pounds.
It's truly a fans-only kinda book. The minutia even started to get dull to me, and I usually eat this stuff up. I skipped several of the chapters that deal with the development of the story.
However, here's some interesting stuff I learned:
De Palma was responsible for the opening scroll. It was always planned, but Lucas' original version was a big swath of back-history and De Palma said it's gotta be directly related to the story and drop you right into it. So, he rewrote it, and Lucas tweaked it a bit, but it's primarily De Palma's.
Carroll Ballard was a second-unit director for the filming that occurred after the principal filming. Interesting that such a gifted director was used like that. It'd be fun to know which shots are his. For the record, like nearly everyone except Spielberg, he thought the movie was a goof and would bomb badly.
Francis Ford Coppola suggested some structural changes - like moving most of the evil empire stuff to later in the film, after the main characters were established. So, major parts of the narrative flow are Coppola's.
Those three factoids kind of explain a lot about the recent trilogy don't they?
Obi-wan wasn't slated to die until after they began filming. When they were filming, it dawned on Lucas that as originally written, Obi-wan kinds stands around doing nothing after the escape from the Death Star, so Lucas decided his death would be better dramatically. Alec Guinness was not happy when he was told this during filming. Worse, his death happened off camera. After some wailing and gnashing of teeth (dignified wailing and gnashing, of course, as it was Alec Guinness after all), he got to have a noble death on-screen.
Mark Hamill 's famous car accident happened during the call-back for pick-up shots (some of those done by Ballard), and they had to use a double in the speeder scenes.
Finally, I wanted to include a scan of one of the photos in the book, but my scanner crapped out. There's a photo of the film librarian that was clearly included because of her spectacular breasts. If you get your hands on THE BOOK (shame on you for thinking I was going elsewhere), it's the third one down, you can't miss it. They included the other two, I'm sure, so it wouldn't look so suspicious when you hap on the third one. I'm sure the words "Dear Lord" will cross your brain.
____________
Update:
Here it be: Mary Lind, film control coordinator:
____________
James Lileks has an article on the 30th Anniversary (gad, there it is again) of the film; which is one of his last as a featured writer, and perhaps one of his last for the paper. He finds out his fate this week. [Note: the link is now broken, but Lileks kept his job, and now blogs for the paper here.]
Read The Making of Star Wars: The Definitive Story Behind the Original Film, and it was a chore, because when the book is open, it's 2 feet wide and a foot tall and weighs 6 pounds.
It's truly a fans-only kinda book. The minutia even started to get dull to me, and I usually eat this stuff up. I skipped several of the chapters that deal with the development of the story.
However, here's some interesting stuff I learned:
De Palma was responsible for the opening scroll. It was always planned, but Lucas' original version was a big swath of back-history and De Palma said it's gotta be directly related to the story and drop you right into it. So, he rewrote it, and Lucas tweaked it a bit, but it's primarily De Palma's.
Carroll Ballard was a second-unit director for the filming that occurred after the principal filming. Interesting that such a gifted director was used like that. It'd be fun to know which shots are his. For the record, like nearly everyone except Spielberg, he thought the movie was a goof and would bomb badly.
Francis Ford Coppola suggested some structural changes - like moving most of the evil empire stuff to later in the film, after the main characters were established. So, major parts of the narrative flow are Coppola's.
Those three factoids kind of explain a lot about the recent trilogy don't they?
Obi-wan wasn't slated to die until after they began filming. When they were filming, it dawned on Lucas that as originally written, Obi-wan kinds stands around doing nothing after the escape from the Death Star, so Lucas decided his death would be better dramatically. Alec Guinness was not happy when he was told this during filming. Worse, his death happened off camera. After some wailing and gnashing of teeth (dignified wailing and gnashing, of course, as it was Alec Guinness after all), he got to have a noble death on-screen.
Mark Hamill 's famous car accident happened during the call-back for pick-up shots (some of those done by Ballard), and they had to use a double in the speeder scenes.
Finally, I wanted to include a scan of one of the photos in the book, but my scanner crapped out. There's a photo of the film librarian that was clearly included because of her spectacular breasts. If you get your hands on THE BOOK (shame on you for thinking I was going elsewhere), it's the third one down, you can't miss it. They included the other two, I'm sure, so it wouldn't look so suspicious when you hap on the third one. I'm sure the words "Dear Lord" will cross your brain.
____________
Update:
Here it be: Mary Lind, film control coordinator:
____________
James Lileks has an article on the 30th Anniversary (gad, there it is again) of the film; which is one of his last as a featured writer, and perhaps one of his last for the paper. He finds out his fate this week. [Note: the link is now broken, but Lileks kept his job, and now blogs for the paper here.]
Car Alarms
I am this -----><---- close to running up to the next person who accidentally sets off their car alarm, yelling, "ARE YOU STEALING THIS CAR?!?!?"
I won't do it, of course, because not one of them would be amused, and there's no reason to annoy people for the fun of it.
But, is any modern invention as worthless as a car alarm? Do you know of anyone - ever - who called the cops or asked the person who set off the alarm what's going on?
Then again, I live in a relatively crime-free town, so maybe those whose car is their only big deal possession might like them.
But where I've lived - heck come to think of it, even when I lived in some pretty dicey places (I don't think I've related the story where some chick was whacked on something and the two guys she was attacking pushed her down two flights of stairs, so she stabbed on of them, and oddly the ambulance wouldn't take her, so she wandered in the parking lot screaming for hours), people don't even turn their heads in the direction of a car alarm going off.
Only folks like me who have babies napping in the car pay attention to car alarms anymore, I think.
My last encounter with the unholy warble of futility was at the post office where I was in the car with MPC2 as she was trying to drift off. A young guy came out and began to mount some sort of late-model Chevy Speck and the alarm went off. Of course, MPC2 little arms and legs shot out like someone had poked her with a cattle prod. I can't imagine that kind of car came with a car alarm, so someone installed it on purpose. That's kind of like putting a chastity belt on Rosie O'Donnell - y'know, trying to protect something that really isn't in danger in the first place.
Apparently, I'm not alone in my dislike of the things.
I am this -----><---- close to running up to the next person who accidentally sets off their car alarm, yelling, "ARE YOU STEALING THIS CAR?!?!?"
I won't do it, of course, because not one of them would be amused, and there's no reason to annoy people for the fun of it.
But, is any modern invention as worthless as a car alarm? Do you know of anyone - ever - who called the cops or asked the person who set off the alarm what's going on?
Then again, I live in a relatively crime-free town, so maybe those whose car is their only big deal possession might like them.
But where I've lived - heck come to think of it, even when I lived in some pretty dicey places (I don't think I've related the story where some chick was whacked on something and the two guys she was attacking pushed her down two flights of stairs, so she stabbed on of them, and oddly the ambulance wouldn't take her, so she wandered in the parking lot screaming for hours), people don't even turn their heads in the direction of a car alarm going off.
Only folks like me who have babies napping in the car pay attention to car alarms anymore, I think.
My last encounter with the unholy warble of futility was at the post office where I was in the car with MPC2 as she was trying to drift off. A young guy came out and began to mount some sort of late-model Chevy Speck and the alarm went off. Of course, MPC2 little arms and legs shot out like someone had poked her with a cattle prod. I can't imagine that kind of car came with a car alarm, so someone installed it on purpose. That's kind of like putting a chastity belt on Rosie O'Donnell - y'know, trying to protect something that really isn't in danger in the first place.
Apparently, I'm not alone in my dislike of the things.
Hack your body
Found this neato little list of tricks to clear your sinuses (it works), and various other things.
Here's one on how to get rid of a headache.
And this one's just kind of unintentionally comical. It burbles along kinda Zen-ning you out (by repeating the same concept a few different ways) then says, "Don’t worry about about [sic] your personality. You don’t really have one." See "how to get red of a headache" directly above.
Found this neato little list of tricks to clear your sinuses (it works), and various other things.
Here's one on how to get rid of a headache.
And this one's just kind of unintentionally comical. It burbles along kinda Zen-ning you out (by repeating the same concept a few different ways) then says, "Don’t worry about about [sic] your personality. You don’t really have one." See "how to get red of a headache" directly above.
Holy Andromeda Strain, Batman!
A lake in an extinct volcano kills everything nearby with excess carbon dioxide.
Via Digg
A lake in an extinct volcano kills everything nearby with excess carbon dioxide.
Via Digg
In praise of silly music
Now that it's out, the fambly is bopping around to Avril Lavigne's, The Best Damn Thing. This album is aimed straight at the hearts and souls of young girls, and since that describes everyone human in the house but me, it's been a big hit.
But I really dig it too. I love the rah-rah, cheerleader vibe. But, ultimately, it's pretty silly. I've never had a problem with silly.
Frinstance, "The Darkness", those guys who have picked up where Queen left off, though with a decidedly more heterosexual, but very geeky bent. I never fail to smile when one of the tunes from their latest, One Way Ticket to Hell comes on, particularly the song "Knockers" where he goes for the cheap seats on the chorus, squealing: "And I just love what you've done with your hair!" Always raises a chuckle. And "Hazel Eyes" is nearly indescribable.
Silliest of all, though, is the recent offering Evil Dead: The Musical cast recording. The songs aren't really totally catchy like those from Little Shop of Horrors, but - I gottta tell ya - there is joy to be had during ditties like "What the Fuck Was That?"
Now that it's out, the fambly is bopping around to Avril Lavigne's, The Best Damn Thing. This album is aimed straight at the hearts and souls of young girls, and since that describes everyone human in the house but me, it's been a big hit.
But I really dig it too. I love the rah-rah, cheerleader vibe. But, ultimately, it's pretty silly. I've never had a problem with silly.
Frinstance, "The Darkness", those guys who have picked up where Queen left off, though with a decidedly more heterosexual, but very geeky bent. I never fail to smile when one of the tunes from their latest, One Way Ticket to Hell comes on, particularly the song "Knockers" where he goes for the cheap seats on the chorus, squealing: "And I just love what you've done with your hair!" Always raises a chuckle. And "Hazel Eyes" is nearly indescribable.
Silliest of all, though, is the recent offering Evil Dead: The Musical cast recording. The songs aren't really totally catchy like those from Little Shop of Horrors, but - I gottta tell ya - there is joy to be had during ditties like "What the Fuck Was That?"
This is how it should be done.
Steve Miller has kicked out Fly Like an Eagle: 30th Anniversary.
Sigh. Why do they keep having to remind me it's 30 years old? (The latest remastered ELO had the same moniker.)
Oh well, other than that small quibble, this is the best re-release package I've ever had the joy of owning.
The remastering on the CD is what I've come to expect, but the 5.1 surround mix on the DVD is perhaps the best I've heard. It doesn't bastardize the original mix, or change the tunes (like the version of Fleetwood Mac's Rumours did). The bottom-end is luscious, and gosh it's fun to hear music that just seems made for a surround mix - even though it predates the technology by decades. (Sigh.)
Now, on top of that, it includes a 2 hour concert of Steve Miller and the original band he used on this and Book of Dreams. And it's great!
There's also a documentary I've haven't gotten around to yet, too.
So, for the price of a typical premium release (a CD the industry thinks will be a hit), you get 3 complete products.
If you're a fan of Steve, this is a must-have, for the concert alone.
Steve Miller has kicked out Fly Like an Eagle: 30th Anniversary.
Sigh. Why do they keep having to remind me it's 30 years old? (The latest remastered ELO had the same moniker.)
Oh well, other than that small quibble, this is the best re-release package I've ever had the joy of owning.
The remastering on the CD is what I've come to expect, but the 5.1 surround mix on the DVD is perhaps the best I've heard. It doesn't bastardize the original mix, or change the tunes (like the version of Fleetwood Mac's Rumours did). The bottom-end is luscious, and gosh it's fun to hear music that just seems made for a surround mix - even though it predates the technology by decades. (Sigh.)
Now, on top of that, it includes a 2 hour concert of Steve Miller and the original band he used on this and Book of Dreams. And it's great!
There's also a documentary I've haven't gotten around to yet, too.
So, for the price of a typical premium release (a CD the industry thinks will be a hit), you get 3 complete products.
If you're a fan of Steve, this is a must-have, for the concert alone.
Albums that should've gotten better reviews by Rolling Stone
I kinda agree with this list. (via digg)
I certainly will be hunting down some of those I've not heard - except the (c)rap albums, natch. Though, De La Soul's 3 Feet High and Rising is good. Had rap gone that direction, I'd probably like it.
I particularly agree with the inclusion of Pink Floyd's Animals. Even though the Floyd made better albums, this is the one I still put on regularly. Also, when I went through the whole remastered Led Zeppelin catalogue, I found Houses of the Holy was one of the three albums of theirs I like all the way through.
I completely disagree with Joanna Newsom's Ys. I checked it out and was worse for the experience. It was akin to tipping a can up and expecting coca-cola but getting beer. It's fine if you're expecting beer and like it, but otherwise you just gag.
And they include my Flaming Lips, so this list is good.
I kinda agree with this list. (via digg)
I certainly will be hunting down some of those I've not heard - except the (c)rap albums, natch. Though, De La Soul's 3 Feet High and Rising is good. Had rap gone that direction, I'd probably like it.
I particularly agree with the inclusion of Pink Floyd's Animals. Even though the Floyd made better albums, this is the one I still put on regularly. Also, when I went through the whole remastered Led Zeppelin catalogue, I found Houses of the Holy was one of the three albums of theirs I like all the way through.
I completely disagree with Joanna Newsom's Ys. I checked it out and was worse for the experience. It was akin to tipping a can up and expecting coca-cola but getting beer. It's fine if you're expecting beer and like it, but otherwise you just gag.
And they include my Flaming Lips, so this list is good.
New York Doll
A buddy lent me the documentary New York Doll, and I found myself with a spare hour and a half (always a pleasant surprise), so spun it up.
At first I wasn't impressed. It came off like a lamer episode of VH1's "Behind the Music" at first, but then the Dolls are asked to reform for a festival held by Morrissey, the flick kicks up a notch.
It's about Arthur "Killer" Kane, bass player for the New York Dolls. After the Dolls broke up, he had a rough life, including a sad suicide attempt where he leapt out a 3rd story window, only to break some bones.
I've never been much of a fan of the New York Dolls, and I kinda doubt they were as big a deal as everyone in the film makes them out to be. Yes, Morrissey, Chrissie Hynde, and Bob Geldof were big fans, but we all have groups that mean so much to us, and not much to others.
(I'm thinking of the Flaming Lips, The Presidents of the United States of America, and ELO for myself.)
Perhaps they were like the Velvet Underground where they were more of an influence on fellow musicians than they were on a larger, popular/public audience.
Anyway, check this out if you're a music fan and/or like this kinda doc.
.
A buddy lent me the documentary New York Doll, and I found myself with a spare hour and a half (always a pleasant surprise), so spun it up.
At first I wasn't impressed. It came off like a lamer episode of VH1's "Behind the Music" at first, but then the Dolls are asked to reform for a festival held by Morrissey, the flick kicks up a notch.
It's about Arthur "Killer" Kane, bass player for the New York Dolls. After the Dolls broke up, he had a rough life, including a sad suicide attempt where he leapt out a 3rd story window, only to break some bones.
I've never been much of a fan of the New York Dolls, and I kinda doubt they were as big a deal as everyone in the film makes them out to be. Yes, Morrissey, Chrissie Hynde, and Bob Geldof were big fans, but we all have groups that mean so much to us, and not much to others.
(I'm thinking of the Flaming Lips, The Presidents of the United States of America, and ELO for myself.)
Perhaps they were like the Velvet Underground where they were more of an influence on fellow musicians than they were on a larger, popular/public audience.
Anyway, check this out if you're a music fan and/or like this kinda doc.
.
Monday, May 21, 2007
Thursday, May 17, 2007
Wouldja like some good news for once?
Seems John Stossel is right, the world is actually getting better all the time.
Check out this great presentation by Hans Rosling who shows how the term "Third World" really only applies to a defunct reggae band anymore.
Seems John Stossel is right, the world is actually getting better all the time.
Check out this great presentation by Hans Rosling who shows how the term "Third World" really only applies to a defunct reggae band anymore.
Global Warming
Here's a nice big raft of articles about myths and facts on global warming. Some of the best I've seen.
Here's a nice big raft of articles about myths and facts on global warming. Some of the best I've seen.
Monday, May 14, 2007
Self a-Bashing
I can't wait to use that one at a party.
#760106
Bear: it's why it [LandRover Series 3] rattles on the motorway
Locandez: Like a skeleton masturbating in a filing cabinet
I can't wait to use that one at a party.
I could dork around with this thing all day!
This little app uses words from existing songs to sing a whole new song to you.
It kinda reminds of that novelty song Mr. Jaws (right click and save as). (Thanks to The vRidgeRunner's WORLD OF Wackiness.)
It's also fun to try to guess which song a word comes from.
This little app uses words from existing songs to sing a whole new song to you.
It kinda reminds of that novelty song Mr. Jaws (right click and save as). (Thanks to The vRidgeRunner's WORLD OF Wackiness.)
It's also fun to try to guess which song a word comes from.
Wednesday, May 09, 2007
On the Internets
Where I grew up, guns were such a matter-of-fact part of life that everyone took a gun safety course the same way they took driver's ed. A buddy who moved from Boston always marveled that at the general store, the gun section began where the milk section ended.
Anyway, I'd not seen a good articulation of the proper attitudes towards - and proper uses of - guns, until the always spectacular Teresa Nielson Hayden posted one.
Isn't this a heart-warming shot?
The great Stephen Hawking got to fulfill a lifelong dream to be weightless via a trip on the vomit comet. He reported that it felt wonderful since the weightlessness relieved the pain he has from the effects of gravity on his body.
im on the internetz makin u laff
Perhaps you've already encountered "lolcats," aka "meme cats," in your travels on the web, but if you haven't, you're in for a treat.
See here, here, and here. Oh, and here's a sendup of "lolcats" where the whole episode of Star Trek's "The Trouble with Tribbles" is done in lolcats-speak.
This is brilliant (via Syaffolee). Someone has quantified the rules for "Literary Fiction."
It's entirely dead-on.
I think I'm gonna make a poster out of it and sell it to Literature Depts.
This really does say it all.
Was stumbling around and found a picture of a fortune cookie message that read: "A can of worms won't open itself."
I thought that was rather deep and strikingly true.
There is a snarky opinion amongst some in the commercial media that most blogs are essentially a waste of everyone's time. Personally, I find blogs the best reads on the web, but I have to admit I come across sites sometimes that make me wonder about their creators.
On this site, some asks "What's Special About This Number?", and goes on to list every number up to 1,000, giving a factoid about each. You suppose his mom knows that's what he's spending all his time on in the basement? I bet she'd be happier suspecting he was just jerking off.
For months now I've wondered how to point to this obsessive-compulsive gem, because I don't want to mock the creator of it. I admire what he's doing, in an amused yet concerned sort of way. He logs every time the "Silent Penultimate Panel" is used on a cartoon.
But it's a beautiful paradox, because I think he thinks it's overused and lazy, and is trying to make that point; but how many people would have the energy or enough of an obsession to comb through all the comics daily looking for Silent Penultimate Panels? In other words, someone with that much drive is not someone anyone can take seriously if they label others lazy.
Here's a collection of great animated Gifs.
Here's an example:
The creator of that little gem should meet Mr. "Silent Penultimate Panel". They would have wonderful long discussions on the proper dissipation of time.
Dear Lord. There's an entire wiki devoted to Star Trek. Ok, the "Silent Penultimate Panel" guy is looking more well-adjusted all the time.
Ever wanted to hear the famous final Beatles rooftop concert in it's entirety?
Also check out the other lost gems and live shows he's got available.
There's even a version of Paul Simon's Hearts and Bones (one of my favorite albums of all time) that includes contributions from Art Garfunkel. Seems it was to be their reunion album, but when that went by the wayside, Simon left Garfunkel out of the mix and finished it himself.
Well, along with Kurt Vonnegut, we've lost the wonderful Johnny Hart, creator of my favorite childhood comic strip, "B.C." It was beloved by my whole family, and we bought every collection ever published. It's a stack about 2 1/2 feet high. Sadly they're falling apart from being loved too much. Each one got read about 20 times.
This cover never failed to make us laugh, and was a family in-joke whenever we saw a maroon in the street.
So long, dudes. Thanks for the laughs.
In other sad news, the best stylist on the web, James Lileks, gets repurposed as a general reporter in his daytime job at the Minneapolis StarTribune. They've cancelled his column and now he has to show up and sit in his cubie.
I'm taking this as hard as if it were happening to me. If someone as talented as Lileks can be treated this way, it just seems to diminish the world a little bit more. Know what I mean?
I hope they see what a dumbfuck thing that is to do and pull their heads out of their ... you get my drift.
Where I grew up, guns were such a matter-of-fact part of life that everyone took a gun safety course the same way they took driver's ed. A buddy who moved from Boston always marveled that at the general store, the gun section began where the milk section ended.
Anyway, I'd not seen a good articulation of the proper attitudes towards - and proper uses of - guns, until the always spectacular Teresa Nielson Hayden posted one.
Isn't this a heart-warming shot?
The great Stephen Hawking got to fulfill a lifelong dream to be weightless via a trip on the vomit comet. He reported that it felt wonderful since the weightlessness relieved the pain he has from the effects of gravity on his body.
im on the internetz makin u laff
Perhaps you've already encountered "lolcats," aka "meme cats," in your travels on the web, but if you haven't, you're in for a treat.
See here, here, and here. Oh, and here's a sendup of "lolcats" where the whole episode of Star Trek's "The Trouble with Tribbles" is done in lolcats-speak.
This is brilliant (via Syaffolee). Someone has quantified the rules for "Literary Fiction."
It's entirely dead-on.
I think I'm gonna make a poster out of it and sell it to Literature Depts.
This really does say it all.
Was stumbling around and found a picture of a fortune cookie message that read: "A can of worms won't open itself."
I thought that was rather deep and strikingly true.
There is a snarky opinion amongst some in the commercial media that most blogs are essentially a waste of everyone's time. Personally, I find blogs the best reads on the web, but I have to admit I come across sites sometimes that make me wonder about their creators.
On this site, some asks "What's Special About This Number?", and goes on to list every number up to 1,000, giving a factoid about each. You suppose his mom knows that's what he's spending all his time on in the basement? I bet she'd be happier suspecting he was just jerking off.
For months now I've wondered how to point to this obsessive-compulsive gem, because I don't want to mock the creator of it. I admire what he's doing, in an amused yet concerned sort of way. He logs every time the "Silent Penultimate Panel" is used on a cartoon.
But it's a beautiful paradox, because I think he thinks it's overused and lazy, and is trying to make that point; but how many people would have the energy or enough of an obsession to comb through all the comics daily looking for Silent Penultimate Panels? In other words, someone with that much drive is not someone anyone can take seriously if they label others lazy.
Here's a collection of great animated Gifs.
Here's an example:
The creator of that little gem should meet Mr. "Silent Penultimate Panel". They would have wonderful long discussions on the proper dissipation of time.
Dear Lord. There's an entire wiki devoted to Star Trek. Ok, the "Silent Penultimate Panel" guy is looking more well-adjusted all the time.
Ever wanted to hear the famous final Beatles rooftop concert in it's entirety?
Also check out the other lost gems and live shows he's got available.
There's even a version of Paul Simon's Hearts and Bones (one of my favorite albums of all time) that includes contributions from Art Garfunkel. Seems it was to be their reunion album, but when that went by the wayside, Simon left Garfunkel out of the mix and finished it himself.
Well, along with Kurt Vonnegut, we've lost the wonderful Johnny Hart, creator of my favorite childhood comic strip, "B.C." It was beloved by my whole family, and we bought every collection ever published. It's a stack about 2 1/2 feet high. Sadly they're falling apart from being loved too much. Each one got read about 20 times.
This cover never failed to make us laugh, and was a family in-joke whenever we saw a maroon in the street.
So long, dudes. Thanks for the laughs.
In other sad news, the best stylist on the web, James Lileks, gets repurposed as a general reporter in his daytime job at the Minneapolis StarTribune. They've cancelled his column and now he has to show up and sit in his cubie.
I'm taking this as hard as if it were happening to me. If someone as talented as Lileks can be treated this way, it just seems to diminish the world a little bit more. Know what I mean?
I hope they see what a dumbfuck thing that is to do and pull their heads out of their ... you get my drift.
Recent Viewings - 5/9/2007
Grindhouse
Well, I had fully consigned this movie to the eventual DVD viewing as I had missed the group outing to see it (everyone but me had the miserable sniffles and they needed a little step-and-fetch-it care). I consoled myself with the fact that the directors are likely to stuff the DVD with more extras than The Ten Commandments and Cleopatra combined.
Then it flopped. Rumors spread on the web that the movie company was going to break it up because people were walking out as the credits rolled on the first "feature." One of the guys who went on the group outing said 1/3 of the audience did leave at that point. Maroons.
So, I felt like had to catch it before it was altered from its original form. I'm still a quasi-purist about things like that thanks to a buddy who was an ultra-purist; he wouldn't enter the theatre if we were late and a single frame of the actual feature had already hit the screen. It could even be just showing the studio logo, but no, the film had started, we'd have to come back later.
"Planet Terror" is the first feature, by the talented Robert Rodriguez, and it's yer standard: zombies attack, hilarity ensues. It's fun, does the job, yadda yadda. The kicker, though, is the machine gun leg on the hottie, Rose McGowan (she has a face with a view). That really is something to see.
See?:
"Death Proof" was - dare I say it - typical Tarantino. Fun dialogue, good directing, and so on. And it's cool to see one of my all-time faves, Kurt Russell, have a go at it. He's probably one of the most underrated actors of our age.
Overall, I liked "Planet Terror" better than "Death Proof," but still had a good enough time to recommend Grindhouse.
Two of the fake trailers deserve mention as well.
"Machete" was a snort for parents of kids who've seen the "Spy Kids" movies, as he's essentially the "Q" (of James Bond fame) of the series. So to see him outside of the context of a kid's movie being a badass was a treat.
"Thanksgiving" has a scene where a cheerleader is jumping on a trampoline while stripping for her boyfriend. The slasher offs the boyfriend without her noticing. Then he sticks the knife up through the trampoline in a strategic spot just as she comes down doing the splits. In the audience in front of me, the girl on a date with her bf reflexively gasped and clapped her knees together. Have you ever noticed in movies where a guy really takes one in the nuts, you can see half the male heads bob? Well, I'd never seen a woman do that until that. It really was a cringe-worthy moment.
déjà vu
Denzel Washington discovers some scientists have created a time viewer/time machine that goes back exactly 4 days. He's just been assigned a case where the victim was a total hottie, and he's currently a lonely guy (as if someone who looks like Denzel wouldn't have women literally throwing themselves at him), so he decides to go back in time and save her.
Yes, the plot is preposterous. My wife and 10-year-old both pronounced its suckitude when the credits rolled.
But, I enjoyed it for the popcorn movie it was. If you've got the time (har har) and don't have anything against mindless movies with plot holes bigger the Current Occupant's gaps in logic (not to mention email records), you might give this a spin.
Fanboys - a warning: Don't even try to make sense of the time-travel aspect: it's silly. If you want a challenge in that regard, see Primer instead.
Marie Antoinette
I didn't think I was going to like Marie Antoinette; the reviews were tepid. Also, I thought Lost in Translation was kinda cute, but ultimately kind of ... dissipated. It was a nice try, but no cigar.
Visually, Marie Antoinette is a hell of a bon-bon. The dialogue is minimal and almost not needed. However, the soundtrack is indispensable, so turn it up. Come to think of it, it's like a live-action cartoon.
Sofia Coppola has that languorous, entitled attitude of a rich kid raised in the epicenter of a cultural hub, and it just suffuses her work. No one is better qualified to document the life of a woman-child with too much wealth and not much else to worry about.
This is one of the few movies I'll revisit in a few months to see if it yields anything from repeated viewings.
Night at the Museum
I see why the critics slimed this flick and why family audiences loved it. It's fun, sweet, and had after-school special life lessons.
Because of that, though, the film was kind of a slog for me. But then I'm not the target audience for this flick.
Sometimes films have to keep it simple and recycle some ideas because, after all, it'll be the first time some kids encounter them.
Thus, this is a nice film for the kiddies that you may want to watch. Or not. Maybe you can be in the next room watching:
Casino Royale
This really is a departure from the previous Bond films. Plus it's an "origin" film like Batman Begins.
We meet Bond just after he's killed someone under his "license to kill" double-o status for the first time, back when he was wearing suit coats off the rack and hadn't discovered the perfect martini.
Bond is really a bad-ass in this movie, and it makes the character more intriguing, plus it mysteriously transforms the existing Bond films by making some of James' behavior more resonant - a nifty trick, if you ask me.
The Bond women have always been interesting, but in this case it's kicked up a notch. Bond meets a girl worth falling in love with, and as hard as that should be to pull of in a Bond flick, they manage to do it.
After the gag in the "Thanksgiving" trailer in "Grindhouse, I didn't think I'd see a scene that'd make me as uncomfortable for a while. Well, Casino Royale proved me wrong. I had to stop the movie and get up and walk around for a while. You'll know the one I'm talking about when you see it.
If you've been putting this one off, put it higher in your queue. You'll be happy you did.
This Film Is Not Yet Rated
To use Ebert's phrase: I hated, hated, hated this movie.
I'm a lefty (politically), but this was so far left, it just pissed me off.
There is absolutely no balance to the views presented, at all.
Worse, there's this whole whiney, "I'm a victim" tone to the movie. They even take a detour to point out that the detectives they hire to find out who the board members are are gay. It has NOTHING whatsoever to do with the point of the film, yet there we are, spending about ten minutes on it. (It had the skank of "the obligatory gay character" to it, even.)
What's even more aggravating is there's an angle excised from the film that's found in the deleted scenes where they take on DRM and such. That slant was much more intriguing and would've given the film added depth. But no, the girls are in love, donchaknow.
Kevin smith and Matt Stone of "South Park" fame are about the only good things in this. They are both gripping, intelligent, and always entertaining. If you can see this as a cheap rental or some way where you're not paying, it's worth it to just fast-forward to their parts - and hit the extras which contain more of them than what you see in the film.
As for MPAA ratings themselves, like most people I'd like to see a rating for truly adults-only films that wasn't a pariah where no one will accept ads for them and so on. But that's the newspaper, radio, and television industries (plus focus and pressure groups) doing that, not the MPAA. No matter what that rating would be - X, NC-17, or MA - it would mean "no kids allowed" and it would be shunned by the various media. So, in my view, the MPAA isn't all that much to blame. They have some complicity, but after all, they really just rate the things.
The issue is even more insignificant than that. A big "unrated version" stamp on a DVD usually spikes sales and rentals. It's an advertising bonus.
Further, I usually agree with their ratings. When I've compared "unrated" versions and their R counterparts, the stuff they cut was often very adult; the cuts were appropriate.
Now, if we couldn't get those uncut versions, I'd be singing a different tune.
Kevin Smith has a point that I sorta agree with, though. Unless it's a porno (and by that, we all know what I mean - the point of the flick is to show sex), all films that contain adult stuff should just be "R". As an adult, I don't really need the extra protection from an extra trust or slash. I would be cool with that agreement.
The one thing the MPAA SHOULD do is give specifics as to what they feel should be changed to get a different rating. They don't because they feel that would lead to claims of censorship. Well, let's call a spade a spade and get on with it. It is in a very broad sense, but the filmmaker has the choice whether to make the cuts or not. All of the filmmakers in the movie said it would be helpful to know exactly got them the dreaded NC-17. I agree.
Children of Men
I almost didn't see this one because I just no longer have the desire to a see a movie that's gonna be a bummer and a drag all the way through without any redeeming features.
There are a handful of directors - Joan Campion for one - who make unrelenting bad times at the movies, and that's made me gun-shy. They don't seem to grasp the fact that tragedies have to have a component that makes the strain on your emotions worth the time.
Well, Children of Men is bleak, but it leavens the grimness with humor and a riveting story. It's poetic to a degree.
It reminded me of another bleak film that somehow transcends the horror and manages to be moving: Soylent Green. Children of Men is a much better film than Soylent Green; I just wanted to give you a reference.
Good flick.
My Super Ex-girlfriend
Boy did this ever get panned, but it's a built-in, must-see for fanboys. Uma Thurman as a pissed-off supergirl? C'mon.
The reason it got panned, I suspect, is that it delivers its premise beautifully, but the ending is cliché. If it had an interesting twist near the end, it would've been golden.
As it is, it's still a nice, light popcorn movie. If the genre does it for you, make sure you see this.
I also have a crush on the actress Anna Faris of "Scary Movie" fame. She's like a lot of the big box office stars where even though she plays a role well, her personality always shines through. I'm entranced every time she's on the screen.
Warning though: even though it's PG-13, it's got some strong stuff in it. I would make sure any kids watching are at least 13.
Grindhouse
Well, I had fully consigned this movie to the eventual DVD viewing as I had missed the group outing to see it (everyone but me had the miserable sniffles and they needed a little step-and-fetch-it care). I consoled myself with the fact that the directors are likely to stuff the DVD with more extras than The Ten Commandments and Cleopatra combined.
Then it flopped. Rumors spread on the web that the movie company was going to break it up because people were walking out as the credits rolled on the first "feature." One of the guys who went on the group outing said 1/3 of the audience did leave at that point. Maroons.
So, I felt like had to catch it before it was altered from its original form. I'm still a quasi-purist about things like that thanks to a buddy who was an ultra-purist; he wouldn't enter the theatre if we were late and a single frame of the actual feature had already hit the screen. It could even be just showing the studio logo, but no, the film had started, we'd have to come back later.
"Planet Terror" is the first feature, by the talented Robert Rodriguez, and it's yer standard: zombies attack, hilarity ensues. It's fun, does the job, yadda yadda. The kicker, though, is the machine gun leg on the hottie, Rose McGowan (she has a face with a view). That really is something to see.
See?:
"Death Proof" was - dare I say it - typical Tarantino. Fun dialogue, good directing, and so on. And it's cool to see one of my all-time faves, Kurt Russell, have a go at it. He's probably one of the most underrated actors of our age.
Overall, I liked "Planet Terror" better than "Death Proof," but still had a good enough time to recommend Grindhouse.
Two of the fake trailers deserve mention as well.
"Machete" was a snort for parents of kids who've seen the "Spy Kids" movies, as he's essentially the "Q" (of James Bond fame) of the series. So to see him outside of the context of a kid's movie being a badass was a treat.
"Thanksgiving" has a scene where a cheerleader is jumping on a trampoline while stripping for her boyfriend. The slasher offs the boyfriend without her noticing. Then he sticks the knife up through the trampoline in a strategic spot just as she comes down doing the splits. In the audience in front of me, the girl on a date with her bf reflexively gasped and clapped her knees together. Have you ever noticed in movies where a guy really takes one in the nuts, you can see half the male heads bob? Well, I'd never seen a woman do that until that. It really was a cringe-worthy moment.
déjà vu
Denzel Washington discovers some scientists have created a time viewer/time machine that goes back exactly 4 days. He's just been assigned a case where the victim was a total hottie, and he's currently a lonely guy (as if someone who looks like Denzel wouldn't have women literally throwing themselves at him), so he decides to go back in time and save her.
Yes, the plot is preposterous. My wife and 10-year-old both pronounced its suckitude when the credits rolled.
But, I enjoyed it for the popcorn movie it was. If you've got the time (har har) and don't have anything against mindless movies with plot holes bigger the Current Occupant's gaps in logic (not to mention email records), you might give this a spin.
Fanboys - a warning: Don't even try to make sense of the time-travel aspect: it's silly. If you want a challenge in that regard, see Primer instead.
Marie Antoinette
I didn't think I was going to like Marie Antoinette; the reviews were tepid. Also, I thought Lost in Translation was kinda cute, but ultimately kind of ... dissipated. It was a nice try, but no cigar.
Visually, Marie Antoinette is a hell of a bon-bon. The dialogue is minimal and almost not needed. However, the soundtrack is indispensable, so turn it up. Come to think of it, it's like a live-action cartoon.
Sofia Coppola has that languorous, entitled attitude of a rich kid raised in the epicenter of a cultural hub, and it just suffuses her work. No one is better qualified to document the life of a woman-child with too much wealth and not much else to worry about.
This is one of the few movies I'll revisit in a few months to see if it yields anything from repeated viewings.
Night at the Museum
I see why the critics slimed this flick and why family audiences loved it. It's fun, sweet, and had after-school special life lessons.
Because of that, though, the film was kind of a slog for me. But then I'm not the target audience for this flick.
Sometimes films have to keep it simple and recycle some ideas because, after all, it'll be the first time some kids encounter them.
Thus, this is a nice film for the kiddies that you may want to watch. Or not. Maybe you can be in the next room watching:
Casino Royale
This really is a departure from the previous Bond films. Plus it's an "origin" film like Batman Begins.
We meet Bond just after he's killed someone under his "license to kill" double-o status for the first time, back when he was wearing suit coats off the rack and hadn't discovered the perfect martini.
Bond is really a bad-ass in this movie, and it makes the character more intriguing, plus it mysteriously transforms the existing Bond films by making some of James' behavior more resonant - a nifty trick, if you ask me.
The Bond women have always been interesting, but in this case it's kicked up a notch. Bond meets a girl worth falling in love with, and as hard as that should be to pull of in a Bond flick, they manage to do it.
After the gag in the "Thanksgiving" trailer in "Grindhouse, I didn't think I'd see a scene that'd make me as uncomfortable for a while. Well, Casino Royale proved me wrong. I had to stop the movie and get up and walk around for a while. You'll know the one I'm talking about when you see it.
If you've been putting this one off, put it higher in your queue. You'll be happy you did.
This Film Is Not Yet Rated
To use Ebert's phrase: I hated, hated, hated this movie.
I'm a lefty (politically), but this was so far left, it just pissed me off.
There is absolutely no balance to the views presented, at all.
Worse, there's this whole whiney, "I'm a victim" tone to the movie. They even take a detour to point out that the detectives they hire to find out who the board members are are gay. It has NOTHING whatsoever to do with the point of the film, yet there we are, spending about ten minutes on it. (It had the skank of "the obligatory gay character" to it, even.)
What's even more aggravating is there's an angle excised from the film that's found in the deleted scenes where they take on DRM and such. That slant was much more intriguing and would've given the film added depth. But no, the girls are in love, donchaknow.
Kevin smith and Matt Stone of "South Park" fame are about the only good things in this. They are both gripping, intelligent, and always entertaining. If you can see this as a cheap rental or some way where you're not paying, it's worth it to just fast-forward to their parts - and hit the extras which contain more of them than what you see in the film.
As for MPAA ratings themselves, like most people I'd like to see a rating for truly adults-only films that wasn't a pariah where no one will accept ads for them and so on. But that's the newspaper, radio, and television industries (plus focus and pressure groups) doing that, not the MPAA. No matter what that rating would be - X, NC-17, or MA - it would mean "no kids allowed" and it would be shunned by the various media. So, in my view, the MPAA isn't all that much to blame. They have some complicity, but after all, they really just rate the things.
The issue is even more insignificant than that. A big "unrated version" stamp on a DVD usually spikes sales and rentals. It's an advertising bonus.
Further, I usually agree with their ratings. When I've compared "unrated" versions and their R counterparts, the stuff they cut was often very adult; the cuts were appropriate.
Now, if we couldn't get those uncut versions, I'd be singing a different tune.
Kevin Smith has a point that I sorta agree with, though. Unless it's a porno (and by that, we all know what I mean - the point of the flick is to show sex), all films that contain adult stuff should just be "R". As an adult, I don't really need the extra protection from an extra trust or slash. I would be cool with that agreement.
The one thing the MPAA SHOULD do is give specifics as to what they feel should be changed to get a different rating. They don't because they feel that would lead to claims of censorship. Well, let's call a spade a spade and get on with it. It is in a very broad sense, but the filmmaker has the choice whether to make the cuts or not. All of the filmmakers in the movie said it would be helpful to know exactly got them the dreaded NC-17. I agree.
Children of Men
I almost didn't see this one because I just no longer have the desire to a see a movie that's gonna be a bummer and a drag all the way through without any redeeming features.
There are a handful of directors - Joan Campion for one - who make unrelenting bad times at the movies, and that's made me gun-shy. They don't seem to grasp the fact that tragedies have to have a component that makes the strain on your emotions worth the time.
Well, Children of Men is bleak, but it leavens the grimness with humor and a riveting story. It's poetic to a degree.
It reminded me of another bleak film that somehow transcends the horror and manages to be moving: Soylent Green. Children of Men is a much better film than Soylent Green; I just wanted to give you a reference.
Good flick.
My Super Ex-girlfriend
Boy did this ever get panned, but it's a built-in, must-see for fanboys. Uma Thurman as a pissed-off supergirl? C'mon.
The reason it got panned, I suspect, is that it delivers its premise beautifully, but the ending is cliché. If it had an interesting twist near the end, it would've been golden.
As it is, it's still a nice, light popcorn movie. If the genre does it for you, make sure you see this.
I also have a crush on the actress Anna Faris of "Scary Movie" fame. She's like a lot of the big box office stars where even though she plays a role well, her personality always shines through. I'm entranced every time she's on the screen.
Warning though: even though it's PG-13, it's got some strong stuff in it. I would make sure any kids watching are at least 13.
Tuesday, May 08, 2007
Atheist Fatigue
In a recent email, someone coined the above term. I loved it because it really does describe a mood I know I fall into once in a while.
I love Digg.com, but at least twice a day there's a feeding frenzy of atheists snarling at some Christian foible or slapping each other on the back about somenew recycled diatribe against religion on richarddawkins.net. Half the time I surf past them, but sometimes out of morbid curiosity I'll click into the links and find the same shite time after time.
Yeah, I should know better, and I do, but sometimes we simply are who we are.
The aforementioned email also contained a beautiful summary of the core of what these fundie (I have to throw that modifier in because I know a lot of reasonable atheists who think this stuff is specious, too, and I wanna specifically call out the extremists) atheists (some are calling them neo-atheists) usually say:
"We acknowledge we don't know *everything*, but we certainly do know *this*! Funny/scary how so many people around us just don't get it."
Or, to use an f-atheist's (my shortening of fundie atheist) own words on the beef with believers:
"Well, it goes something like this: If you claim that something is true, I will examine the evidence which supports your claim; if you have no evidence, I will not accept that what you say is true and I will think you a foolish and gullible person for believing it so."
We also get words defined for us, that are supposedly about us:
"delusion - an erroneous belief that is held in the face of evidence to the contrary. (so says thefreedictionary.com)"
Note both of these talks about evidence. Thing is, there is plenty of "soft" evidence that can be used to support the existence of God, or the non-existence. The fact is there is no hard evidence in one direction or another. Both the stances of "there is a God" and "there is no God" are essentially opinions based on experiences, knowledge, and what we personally accept as evidence.
So, when atheists (or Christians or Moslems or Jews, etc.) get all huffy with the other side regarding "evidence" and "facts," it would be good for all to recall that WE REALLY DON'T KNOW the answer to the God question.
Thus, shite like this is unnecessary:
"When the Pope says that a few words and some hand-waving causes a cracker to transform into the flesh of a 2,000-year-old man, Dawkins and his fellow travellers say, well, prove it. It should be simple. Swab the Host and do a DNA analysis. If you don't, we will give your claim no more respect than we give to those who say they see the future in crystal balls or bend spoons with their minds or become werewolves at each full moon.
"And for this, it is Dawkins, not the Pope, who is labelled the unreasonable fanatic on par with faith-saturated madmen who sacrifice children to an invisible spirit."
Jeez. Now we're killing babies?
You can see how this would get old.
Other quibbles are with the following tired tropes:
1) But WE'RE not trying to force our views on anyone like religious people do.
Again, an atheist's own words:
"Atheists are not a religious group because atheism is not a religion. That's pretty straightforward. I'm not sure why so many people can't grasp that concept."
Because if it walks like a duck, and quacks like a duck...
Even the odious Christopher Hitchens has chimed in with a "religions must be abolished!" polemic. Like I'm gonna take advice from an alcoholic Trotsky who wrote an entire book trashing Mother Teresa. I mean, is there anything else he can be dead-wrong about? He strikes me as a completist.
But again, you write apologetics and do missionary work on Digg.com, you are in a religion.
2) People aren't thinking, but just following blindly:
"Unfortunately the majority sheeple aren't smart enough to think for themselves. Anybody that uses faith as an answer to questions human knowledge can't cover likes the easy out. Why not call Atheism a religion, try to bring us down to their easily understandable level."
Given how f-atheists usually talk about what religions supposedly believe, they tip their hand that they really don't know much at all, and have likely gotten their info from someone else who has it wrong, like Dawkins. If you're going to try to debate someone's belief, you'd better understand it first.
3) And finally, my favorite: f-atheists always try to equate atheism with intelligence or intellectual maturity. The song and dance often goes: these other atheists (see list) are intelligent, so am I, ergo only intelligent people are atheists. Which of course discounts all the intelligent people who believe in God.
Guess what! We've now come full circle because we are finally, truly dealing with a delusion most f-atheists suffer from (as defined above) - "an erroneous belief that is held in the face of evidence to the contrary."
________
Update:
For the record, I'm with the atheists (and the majority of Christians) on teaching evolution in the public schools. It's a Joe Bob Briggs thing: I'm surprised I even have to explain it. But given the recent responses at the Republican debate on "who believes in evolution," perhaps the obvious needs to be stated more often. Oh, and the gaffe that is known as "creationism" should be taught only to give a great example of how unscientific it is.
In a recent email, someone coined the above term. I loved it because it really does describe a mood I know I fall into once in a while.
I love Digg.com, but at least twice a day there's a feeding frenzy of atheists snarling at some Christian foible or slapping each other on the back about some
Yeah, I should know better, and I do, but sometimes we simply are who we are.
The aforementioned email also contained a beautiful summary of the core of what these fundie (I have to throw that modifier in because I know a lot of reasonable atheists who think this stuff is specious, too, and I wanna specifically call out the extremists) atheists (some are calling them neo-atheists) usually say:
"We acknowledge we don't know *everything*, but we certainly do know *this*! Funny/scary how so many people around us just don't get it."
Or, to use an f-atheist's (my shortening of fundie atheist) own words on the beef with believers:
"Well, it goes something like this: If you claim that something is true, I will examine the evidence which supports your claim; if you have no evidence, I will not accept that what you say is true and I will think you a foolish and gullible person for believing it so."
We also get words defined for us, that are supposedly about us:
"delusion - an erroneous belief that is held in the face of evidence to the contrary. (so says thefreedictionary.com)"
Note both of these talks about evidence. Thing is, there is plenty of "soft" evidence that can be used to support the existence of God, or the non-existence. The fact is there is no hard evidence in one direction or another. Both the stances of "there is a God" and "there is no God" are essentially opinions based on experiences, knowledge, and what we personally accept as evidence.
So, when atheists (or Christians or Moslems or Jews, etc.) get all huffy with the other side regarding "evidence" and "facts," it would be good for all to recall that WE REALLY DON'T KNOW the answer to the God question.
Thus, shite like this is unnecessary:
"When the Pope says that a few words and some hand-waving causes a cracker to transform into the flesh of a 2,000-year-old man, Dawkins and his fellow travellers say, well, prove it. It should be simple. Swab the Host and do a DNA analysis. If you don't, we will give your claim no more respect than we give to those who say they see the future in crystal balls or bend spoons with their minds or become werewolves at each full moon.
"And for this, it is Dawkins, not the Pope, who is labelled the unreasonable fanatic on par with faith-saturated madmen who sacrifice children to an invisible spirit."
Jeez. Now we're killing babies?
You can see how this would get old.
Other quibbles are with the following tired tropes:
1) But WE'RE not trying to force our views on anyone like religious people do.
Again, an atheist's own words:
"Atheists are not a religious group because atheism is not a religion. That's pretty straightforward. I'm not sure why so many people can't grasp that concept."
Because if it walks like a duck, and quacks like a duck...
Even the odious Christopher Hitchens has chimed in with a "religions must be abolished!" polemic. Like I'm gonna take advice from an alcoholic Trotsky who wrote an entire book trashing Mother Teresa. I mean, is there anything else he can be dead-wrong about? He strikes me as a completist.
But again, you write apologetics and do missionary work on Digg.com, you are in a religion.
2) People aren't thinking, but just following blindly:
"Unfortunately the majority sheeple aren't smart enough to think for themselves. Anybody that uses faith as an answer to questions human knowledge can't cover likes the easy out. Why not call Atheism a religion, try to bring us down to their easily understandable level."
Given how f-atheists usually talk about what religions supposedly believe, they tip their hand that they really don't know much at all, and have likely gotten their info from someone else who has it wrong, like Dawkins. If you're going to try to debate someone's belief, you'd better understand it first.
3) And finally, my favorite: f-atheists always try to equate atheism with intelligence or intellectual maturity. The song and dance often goes: these other atheists (see list) are intelligent, so am I, ergo only intelligent people are atheists. Which of course discounts all the intelligent people who believe in God.
Guess what! We've now come full circle because we are finally, truly dealing with a delusion most f-atheists suffer from (as defined above) - "an erroneous belief that is held in the face of evidence to the contrary."
________
Update:
For the record, I'm with the atheists (and the majority of Christians) on teaching evolution in the public schools. It's a Joe Bob Briggs thing: I'm surprised I even have to explain it. But given the recent responses at the Republican debate on "who believes in evolution," perhaps the obvious needs to be stated more often. Oh, and the gaffe that is known as "creationism" should be taught only to give a great example of how unscientific it is.
Saturday, April 28, 2007
A long time ago, on a cell phone far, far away...
Once I was having a conversation with someone (who was actually standing there) and some poltroon was on his cell speaking in his going-for-the-balcony voice. That in itself was bad enough, but he was pacing, and he'd pace right up to us, turn and pace away. So every time he orbited, we'd have to halt our conversation and wait till he walked away again. Looks that would normally melt crayons didn't seem to bother him either. If only Darth had been there.
Once I was having a conversation with someone (who was actually standing there) and some poltroon was on his cell speaking in his going-for-the-balcony voice. That in itself was bad enough, but he was pacing, and he'd pace right up to us, turn and pace away. So every time he orbited, we'd have to halt our conversation and wait till he walked away again. Looks that would normally melt crayons didn't seem to bother him either. If only Darth had been there.
Wednesday, April 25, 2007
Star
My mom had a little Benji named "Kid," now gone to doggy heaven, but he was a good boy.
Mostly.
See, he had one problem. Let me explain.
One summer my brother and I were back in our hometown for something, and we were over at mom's. We were shooting the breezed when Kid dragged a teddy bear into the room, nosed it around until it was rump up, and then mounted it.
My mom sighed and said, "He always does that when I have guests."
My brother asked, "Why a teddy bear?"
Mom said she'd gotten it for one of our kids, but before she could send it, Kid found it and did what we were witnessing. She said after that, she didn't feel right about sending it, so it became Kid's.
For the record, he was fixed, so he never got the gold, as it were, but he usually pounded away for a good few minutes.
My brother inquired, "What's its name? Star?" ("Star" after a typical stripper's name.)
Mom laughed and thereafter the teddy was known as Star.
When we'd visit, Mom would invariably have to say, "Kid! Take Star in another room!" And sometimes he would.
Apparently, it's a common problem. (Mildly NSFW)
My mom had a little Benji named "Kid," now gone to doggy heaven, but he was a good boy.
Mostly.
See, he had one problem. Let me explain.
One summer my brother and I were back in our hometown for something, and we were over at mom's. We were shooting the breezed when Kid dragged a teddy bear into the room, nosed it around until it was rump up, and then mounted it.
My mom sighed and said, "He always does that when I have guests."
My brother asked, "Why a teddy bear?"
Mom said she'd gotten it for one of our kids, but before she could send it, Kid found it and did what we were witnessing. She said after that, she didn't feel right about sending it, so it became Kid's.
For the record, he was fixed, so he never got the gold, as it were, but he usually pounded away for a good few minutes.
My brother inquired, "What's its name? Star?" ("Star" after a typical stripper's name.)
Mom laughed and thereafter the teddy was known as Star.
When we'd visit, Mom would invariably have to say, "Kid! Take Star in another room!" And sometimes he would.
Apparently, it's a common problem. (Mildly NSFW)
Tuesday, April 17, 2007
JFK - this theory makes sense
Rolling Stone, like MTV, should give up their delusion that they have anything relevant to say about music, having changed horses long ago. Rolling Stone is actually mostly a liberal political mag (I know I'm surprising no one, here), and those are about the only articles worth reading.
Recently, they offered up perhaps the most plausible scenario of the machinations behind the JFK assassination. I've always been intrigued by the JFK thing because it was, like 9/11, a pure crimson mushroom-cloud of evil that was so blatant it capsizes the mind if you really dwell on the enormity of the event.
Many players have been under suspicion: the mob, Cuba, a cabal of powerful JFK-haters within the govt. itself, and the man who would get the job were JFK gone. E. Howard Hunt, a slimly government operative on the inside during the time, confessed his understanding of what went down on his deathbed. Short answer: It was all of the above, plus a wrinkle I've not read about before.
Excerpt:
So, JFK boffed Cord Meyer's wife. There always seemed to be a missing piece, because mere political ambition only seemed to be part of the picture. Revenge on the man that made him a cuckold throws in that final spice of verisimilitude.
And, of course, we have the famed gunman on the grassy knoll ID'd.
The print version has some good pics, plus a nice one-page summary of the players.
Rolling Stone, like MTV, should give up their delusion that they have anything relevant to say about music, having changed horses long ago. Rolling Stone is actually mostly a liberal political mag (I know I'm surprising no one, here), and those are about the only articles worth reading.
Recently, they offered up perhaps the most plausible scenario of the machinations behind the JFK assassination. I've always been intrigued by the JFK thing because it was, like 9/11, a pure crimson mushroom-cloud of evil that was so blatant it capsizes the mind if you really dwell on the enormity of the event.
Many players have been under suspicion: the mob, Cuba, a cabal of powerful JFK-haters within the govt. itself, and the man who would get the job were JFK gone. E. Howard Hunt, a slimly government operative on the inside during the time, confessed his understanding of what went down on his deathbed. Short answer: It was all of the above, plus a wrinkle I've not read about before.
Excerpt:
E. Howard scribbled the initials "LBJ," standing for Kennedy's ambitious vice president, Lyndon Johnson. Under "LBJ," connected by a line, he wrote the name Cord Meyer. Meyer was a CIA agent whose wife had an affair with JFK; later she was murdered, a case that's never been solved. Next his father connected to Meyer's name the name Bill Harvey, another CIA agent; also connected to Meyer's name was the name David Morales, yet another CIA man and a well-known, particularly vicious black-op specialist. And then his father connected to Morales' name, with a line, the framed words "French Gunman Grassy Knoll."
So there it was, according to E. Howard Hunt. LBJ had Kennedy killed. It had long been speculated upon. But now E. Howard was saying that's the way it was. And that Lee Harvey Oswald wasn't the only shooter in Dallas. There was also, on the grassy knoll, a French gunman, presumably the Corsican Mafia assassin Lucien Sarti, who has figured prominently in other assassination theories.
"By the time he handed me the paper, I was in a state of shock," Saint says. "His whole life, to me and everybody else, he'd always professed to not know anything about any of it. But I knew this had to be the truth. If my dad was going to make anything up, he would have made something up about the Mafia, or Castro, or Khrushchev. He didn't like Johnson. But you don't falsely implicate your own country, for Christ's sake. My father is old-school, a dyed-in-the-wool patriot, and that's the last thing he would do."
Later that week, E. Howard also gave Saint two sheets of paper that contained a fuller narrative. It starts out with LBJ again, connecting him to Cord Meyer, then goes on: "Cord Meyer discusses a plot with [David Atlee] Phillips who brings in Wm. Harvey and Antonio Veciana. He meets with Oswald in Mexico City. . . . Then Veciana meets w/ Frank Sturgis in Miami and enlists David Morales in anticipation of killing JFK there. But LBJ changes itinerary to Dallas, citing personal reasons."
So, JFK boffed Cord Meyer's wife. There always seemed to be a missing piece, because mere political ambition only seemed to be part of the picture. Revenge on the man that made him a cuckold throws in that final spice of verisimilitude.
And, of course, we have the famed gunman on the grassy knoll ID'd.
The print version has some good pics, plus a nice one-page summary of the players.
For Your Convenience
Rolling Stone also has videos of the famed spooky coincidence between Pink Floyd's Dark Side of the Moon and The Wizard of Oz, the "good parts" version.
Found here.
Rolling Stone also has videos of the famed spooky coincidence between Pink Floyd's Dark Side of the Moon and The Wizard of Oz, the "good parts" version.
Found here.
Kiss Kiss Bang Bang
Saw Kiss Kiss Bang Bang starring Robert Downey Jr., Val Kilmer, and this total hottie named Michelle Monaghan, and dug the hell out of it. But then I like self-referential movies that break the fourth wall. When it's done well, as it is here, it actually sinks me deeper into the movie because it feels like I'm in on the joke.
The premise is Downey is a small-time thief who evades arrest by happing into a film casting session. The scene he reads so closely resembles what's really happening to him that they cast him on the spot as a detective. The movie folks hire a real detective, Val Kilmer, to train him to act more like a private eye. Hilarity ensues.
Besides the fact that the movie is funny and sexy, I love the way two of the characters are handled. First, the female lead is refreshingly complex and has some great twists to her character, and some great laugh lines. Second, Val Kilmer's character is gay, and FOR ONCE, it's not the "obligatory gay character" that has infiltrated too many recent films (if you don't know to what I refer, then I prolly couldn't explain it). The fact that he's gay is just that, a fact, and all the plot points that touch upon that fact are crucial to the plot. In other words, it's realistic. And damned funny.
When looking up some info about the film (re what in the hell else did Shane Black do?; ans: Lethal Weapon), I discovered that the original casting choices were Hugh Grant and Benicio Del Toro. Downey and Kilmer are both so perfect for their respective roles, it simply would not be the movie it is without them.
It's odd this movie wasn't bigger. If you haven't already, you should check this little jem out.
Saw Kiss Kiss Bang Bang starring Robert Downey Jr., Val Kilmer, and this total hottie named Michelle Monaghan, and dug the hell out of it. But then I like self-referential movies that break the fourth wall. When it's done well, as it is here, it actually sinks me deeper into the movie because it feels like I'm in on the joke.
The premise is Downey is a small-time thief who evades arrest by happing into a film casting session. The scene he reads so closely resembles what's really happening to him that they cast him on the spot as a detective. The movie folks hire a real detective, Val Kilmer, to train him to act more like a private eye. Hilarity ensues.
Besides the fact that the movie is funny and sexy, I love the way two of the characters are handled. First, the female lead is refreshingly complex and has some great twists to her character, and some great laugh lines. Second, Val Kilmer's character is gay, and FOR ONCE, it's not the "obligatory gay character" that has infiltrated too many recent films (if you don't know to what I refer, then I prolly couldn't explain it). The fact that he's gay is just that, a fact, and all the plot points that touch upon that fact are crucial to the plot. In other words, it's realistic. And damned funny.
When looking up some info about the film (re what in the hell else did Shane Black do?; ans: Lethal Weapon), I discovered that the original casting choices were Hugh Grant and Benicio Del Toro. Downey and Kilmer are both so perfect for their respective roles, it simply would not be the movie it is without them.
It's odd this movie wasn't bigger. If you haven't already, you should check this little jem out.
Crank
A few minutes into watching Crank, my lovely wife, sitting behind me at the kitchen table doing some sewing, said, "Where did you get this freakin' mind garbage?" I was kind of digging it, in a car-wreck sorta way, and said, "Uh, the library, like most movies." Still, that was my clue to shut it off and plan an alterative viewing time.
So I found myself with some precious free time and fired it back up. I'm ashamed to admit I enjoyed it.
Ashamed because this is the exact kind of amoral (hell, immoral) action flick marketed at teenage boys anymore. There have been many movies where a bad guy is the "hero," but usually the movie does not expect us to identify with him even if we empathize a bit. This movie squarely paints the lead, played by unlikely action hero Jason Statham, as the sympathetic character, even though he's a hit man and a hardened criminal.
The movie opens with him waking up feeling terrible. In his living room he discovers a DVD he's clearly supposed to watch, and when he does, he's told - in a gansta Mission: Impossible style - that he has been injected with a Beijing cocktail which will kill him within the hour. We later learn (via the hero's doctor, played by my boy Dwight Yoakam) that the exact mechanism it uses is it blocks adrenaline, and the only way he can stay alive is to overdose on adrenaline.
So, he goes through a series of extreme things, including screwing his dimwitted girlfriend in the middle of a busy public square. (Again, teenage boys would just love this scene; I was just lightly amused, but somewhat embarrassed for the actors.)
The humor in the movie is very Tarantino-esque in that it's all keyed off of violence or tawdry circumstance. For instance, the scene mentioned above where they boff in public ends when he gets a phone call that distracts him and you hear the wet pop as he pulls out.
I watched it on a computer, and the DVD player that came with it isn't a very good player, and the subtitles were stuck on for most of the movie. (I figured out how to shut them off 2/3 of the way through.) This was a fortunate accident, because they went through the trouble of making the only subtitle joke I think I've ever seen. Two characters are in a conversation, and they're cutting back and forth furiously as they bark out their lines. One interrupts the other, and when we switch around to view the interrupter, the subtitles of the character who was just interrupted are in the foreground and blurry, as though they really existed as letters hanging in the air. It's quick and subtle, but I laughed out loud.
Ironically, this movie comes with a "family friendly" soundtrack, where all the bad language is looped into clean words. But, all the scenes of extreme violence and sex are still very much intact. What good does it do to change a line to "Frick! You stupid freaking frick!" when they're spraying bullets or having graphic sex? It's kind of like shellacking a turd and claiming it's now hygienic.
Like I said, I enjoyed it, but I wasn't proud of myself. You might like it too if movies of dubious moral viewpoints and gratuitous everything don't bug ya too much.
A few minutes into watching Crank, my lovely wife, sitting behind me at the kitchen table doing some sewing, said, "Where did you get this freakin' mind garbage?" I was kind of digging it, in a car-wreck sorta way, and said, "Uh, the library, like most movies." Still, that was my clue to shut it off and plan an alterative viewing time.
So I found myself with some precious free time and fired it back up. I'm ashamed to admit I enjoyed it.
Ashamed because this is the exact kind of amoral (hell, immoral) action flick marketed at teenage boys anymore. There have been many movies where a bad guy is the "hero," but usually the movie does not expect us to identify with him even if we empathize a bit. This movie squarely paints the lead, played by unlikely action hero Jason Statham, as the sympathetic character, even though he's a hit man and a hardened criminal.
The movie opens with him waking up feeling terrible. In his living room he discovers a DVD he's clearly supposed to watch, and when he does, he's told - in a gansta Mission: Impossible style - that he has been injected with a Beijing cocktail which will kill him within the hour. We later learn (via the hero's doctor, played by my boy Dwight Yoakam) that the exact mechanism it uses is it blocks adrenaline, and the only way he can stay alive is to overdose on adrenaline.
So, he goes through a series of extreme things, including screwing his dimwitted girlfriend in the middle of a busy public square. (Again, teenage boys would just love this scene; I was just lightly amused, but somewhat embarrassed for the actors.)
The humor in the movie is very Tarantino-esque in that it's all keyed off of violence or tawdry circumstance. For instance, the scene mentioned above where they boff in public ends when he gets a phone call that distracts him and you hear the wet pop as he pulls out.
I watched it on a computer, and the DVD player that came with it isn't a very good player, and the subtitles were stuck on for most of the movie. (I figured out how to shut them off 2/3 of the way through.) This was a fortunate accident, because they went through the trouble of making the only subtitle joke I think I've ever seen. Two characters are in a conversation, and they're cutting back and forth furiously as they bark out their lines. One interrupts the other, and when we switch around to view the interrupter, the subtitles of the character who was just interrupted are in the foreground and blurry, as though they really existed as letters hanging in the air. It's quick and subtle, but I laughed out loud.
Ironically, this movie comes with a "family friendly" soundtrack, where all the bad language is looped into clean words. But, all the scenes of extreme violence and sex are still very much intact. What good does it do to change a line to "Frick! You stupid freaking frick!" when they're spraying bullets or having graphic sex? It's kind of like shellacking a turd and claiming it's now hygienic.
Like I said, I enjoyed it, but I wasn't proud of myself. You might like it too if movies of dubious moral viewpoints and gratuitous everything don't bug ya too much.
Gory
I'm one of those who think that while global warming may be happening, given the evidence, I still doubt that we are to blame for the recent warming cycle. I've followed the concern for years now, read about everything I can get my hands on (even fiction on it, State of Fear, by Michael Crichton), and nothing compelling has convinced me that we are at fault and can really do anything about it. (When I first heard about it, I was. But most of the stuff since has convinced me it's a natural cycle.)
I had it on my list anyway, but at a friend's urging when I told him the above, I made sure I saw Al Gore's An Inconvenient Truth.
Well, I'm still not convinced we are at fault, but I am now convinced there's no reason not to take steps to reduce emissions wherever possible. Gore does a great job of making a case that there won't be significant economic impact if we do take such steps.
And, if you haven't seen it, it's worth a few minutes of your time. It's a good show. Make sure to catch the updates in the extras.
I'm one of those who think that while global warming may be happening, given the evidence, I still doubt that we are to blame for the recent warming cycle. I've followed the concern for years now, read about everything I can get my hands on (even fiction on it, State of Fear, by Michael Crichton), and nothing compelling has convinced me that we are at fault and can really do anything about it. (When I first heard about it, I was. But most of the stuff since has convinced me it's a natural cycle.)
I had it on my list anyway, but at a friend's urging when I told him the above, I made sure I saw Al Gore's An Inconvenient Truth.
Well, I'm still not convinced we are at fault, but I am now convinced there's no reason not to take steps to reduce emissions wherever possible. Gore does a great job of making a case that there won't be significant economic impact if we do take such steps.
And, if you haven't seen it, it's worth a few minutes of your time. It's a good show. Make sure to catch the updates in the extras.
Pan pan
Also saw Friends with Money, and what a slab of turkey that was. When you get that much talent in a room, you wonder what could have the original draw. Was it good on paper? Was the script complete? Is it because it's an "actorly" movie, meaning they have juicy scenes? I can't tell why this thing was even made.
Also saw Friends with Money, and what a slab of turkey that was. When you get that much talent in a room, you wonder what could have the original draw. Was it good on paper? Was the script complete? Is it because it's an "actorly" movie, meaning they have juicy scenes? I can't tell why this thing was even made.
Top 10 Sci-fi Movies
In an interesting upset, Sci-fi mag "SFX" in Britain had a vote on the top 10 sci-fi films of all time.
1. Serenity (2005)
2. Star Wars (1977)
3. Blade Runner (1982)
4. Planet of the Apes (1968)
5. The Matrix (1999)
6. Alien (1979)
7. Forbidden Planet (1956)
8. 2001: A Space Odyssey (1968)
9. The Terminator (1984)
10. Back to the Future (1985)
On its own, Serenity doesn't rate that high (imvho), but as a payoff to the series, it is powerful.
It's about the only sci-fi series that comes close to the golden standard - the original Trek series - in terms of story-telling, action, and humor.
You can get the whole shebang - Firefly, the series, and Serenity, the movie which ends the series - for about $35, plus whatever shipping, and for as many hours of great entertainment you get, it might be one of the best tickets out there.
In an interesting upset, Sci-fi mag "SFX" in Britain had a vote on the top 10 sci-fi films of all time.
1. Serenity (2005)
2. Star Wars (1977)
3. Blade Runner (1982)
4. Planet of the Apes (1968)
5. The Matrix (1999)
6. Alien (1979)
7. Forbidden Planet (1956)
8. 2001: A Space Odyssey (1968)
9. The Terminator (1984)
10. Back to the Future (1985)
On its own, Serenity doesn't rate that high (imvho), but as a payoff to the series, it is powerful.
It's about the only sci-fi series that comes close to the golden standard - the original Trek series - in terms of story-telling, action, and humor.
You can get the whole shebang - Firefly, the series, and Serenity, the movie which ends the series - for about $35, plus whatever shipping, and for as many hours of great entertainment you get, it might be one of the best tickets out there.
What would Jesus really do?
Folks often admonish moderate Christians like myself for not taking the fundies (or the Christians-in-name-only, like Unitarians) to task more often in the media. The obvious reason why that doesn't often happen is that moderate, sensible views aren't interesting reporting. The nuts are interesting.
But, it is nice when someone does manage to float a great article that does articulate what the vast majority of Christians really believe.
Folks often admonish moderate Christians like myself for not taking the fundies (or the Christians-in-name-only, like Unitarians) to task more often in the media. The obvious reason why that doesn't often happen is that moderate, sensible views aren't interesting reporting. The nuts are interesting.
But, it is nice when someone does manage to float a great article that does articulate what the vast majority of Christians really believe.
The Music Business' Continuing Death Spiral
Constant readers know that this is one of my "broken record" posts. (For those of you in the cheap seats, and those who are chronologically challenged, when a vinyl album would get cracked, it would often skip and play the same groove over and over again.)
The music biz is not just in a slump, it's headed for a terrain conflict (as a pilot friend of mine used to describe a crash). You don't even need to count past fingers and move onto toes to enumerate the number of albums that sell over a million copies anymore.
What confounds me is why these articles never connect the dots between the terrible state of broadcast radio and music sales - even when news of payola scams abound.
But beyond radio, what's offered as the latest and greatest pop is often just dreck. (Yes, we have standouts like "The Flaming Lips" that put out great stuff, but they're decades into their careers and follow the beat of their own drummer. I'm talking about mainstream pop music here.)
I gave Justin Timberlake's (a former boy-band member) FutureSex / LoveSounds a spin, and boy did it suq.
The best way I can describe it is like someone ate disco singles, a drum machine, boy band clichés, and lengths of master tapes from Michael Jackson doing those weird vocalizations he does and vomited them up for 60 odd minutes, while barking out sexual euphemisms in the intermittent the dry heaves.
The new Gwen Stefani has a similar problem in that she's trying to ape the more brain-dead and monotonous end of the hip hop scene, doing the million-tenth version of singing the melodies of children's ditties like "nyay-nyah" and "Frère Jacques" to the same freakin' canned beat, which is too bad because she's more talented than that. The whole CD isn't a waste, though. Like the Star Trek movies, every even-numbered song is the good stuff she usually does.
Constant readers know that this is one of my "broken record" posts. (For those of you in the cheap seats, and those who are chronologically challenged, when a vinyl album would get cracked, it would often skip and play the same groove over and over again.)
The music biz is not just in a slump, it's headed for a terrain conflict (as a pilot friend of mine used to describe a crash). You don't even need to count past fingers and move onto toes to enumerate the number of albums that sell over a million copies anymore.
What confounds me is why these articles never connect the dots between the terrible state of broadcast radio and music sales - even when news of payola scams abound.
But beyond radio, what's offered as the latest and greatest pop is often just dreck. (Yes, we have standouts like "The Flaming Lips" that put out great stuff, but they're decades into their careers and follow the beat of their own drummer. I'm talking about mainstream pop music here.)
I gave Justin Timberlake's (a former boy-band member) FutureSex / LoveSounds a spin, and boy did it suq.
The best way I can describe it is like someone ate disco singles, a drum machine, boy band clichés, and lengths of master tapes from Michael Jackson doing those weird vocalizations he does and vomited them up for 60 odd minutes, while barking out sexual euphemisms in the intermittent the dry heaves.
The new Gwen Stefani has a similar problem in that she's trying to ape the more brain-dead and monotonous end of the hip hop scene, doing the million-tenth version of singing the melodies of children's ditties like "nyay-nyah" and "Frère Jacques" to the same freakin' canned beat, which is too bad because she's more talented than that. The whole CD isn't a waste, though. Like the Star Trek movies, every even-numbered song is the good stuff she usually does.
This is kinda cute and mildly NSFW
Pictorial representations of rather blue phrases by artist Agnes Kunz Vigil.
Pictorial representations of rather blue phrases by artist Agnes Kunz Vigil.
The Infamous Green Flash
I've probably fried a certain portion of my retinas looking at sunsets waiting for the green flash that's supposed to happen just as it sets. After a while, I wondered if the green flash was really the burned-in afterimage on your retina. Never did see it in person.
But, heck, someone got a picture of it:
Source: Galax Lux
I've probably fried a certain portion of my retinas looking at sunsets waiting for the green flash that's supposed to happen just as it sets. After a while, I wondered if the green flash was really the burned-in afterimage on your retina. Never did see it in person.
But, heck, someone got a picture of it:
Source: Galax Lux
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