Was on Vacation for a Week
Don't really have anything wild to report. 'Twas just a relaxing time spent on beaches watching the MPC's build sand castles during the day and laughing over dinner and beers with the adults at night.
Didn't read a lick. Saw no flicks. Didn't really surf the web. A media blackout, essentially.
And the only thing I appeared to have missed was Britney Spears' sleepwalking through a supposed "comeback" dance number, and folks said she looked fat. Well, I've seen the vids and photos since, and if that's fat, I don't understand what they could mean by thin. She looked just right to me, mother of two or not.
The other funny thing, found via Digg.com, is a Swedish game show host blows her groceries on the air during a live broadcast. This version has subtitles which contain her explanation for the accidental personal protein spill. If what she says is true, then it's reason number 257 I'm glad I'm a guy. Having to hide boners behind science texts in high school is nothing compared to getting the Technicolor yawns when the little friend visits.
Not for the easily queasy:
----------
Update:
Perhaps this is what she's really saying:
----------
Oh, and I've finally happed upon the fabulous Shatner "have you ever kissed a girl?" SNL skit:
Wednesday, September 12, 2007
Tuesday, September 11, 2007
I'm tellin' ya...
Cracked.com is really funny!
Check these out:
- The 8 Most Common Sci-Fi Visions of the Future (And Why They'll Never Happen)
- The Top 10 Secret Celebrity Scientologists
- How to Resign in Public Like a Coward
Cracked.com is really funny!
Check these out:
- The 8 Most Common Sci-Fi Visions of the Future (And Why They'll Never Happen)
- The Top 10 Secret Celebrity Scientologists
- How to Resign in Public Like a Coward
It's Broken
From:
"Broken Government"
By John W. Dean
"Just tell your readers that you have a source who knows a lot about the Republican party from long experience, that he knows all the key movers and shakers, and he has a bit of advice: People should not vote for any Republican, because they're dangerous, dishonest and self-serving. While I once believed that Governor George Wallace had it right, that there was not a dime's worth of difference in the parties; that is not longer true. I have come to realize the Democrats really do care about people who most need help from government; Republicans care most about those who will only get richer because of government help. The government is truly broken, particularly in dealing with national security, and another four years, and heaven forbid not eight years, under the Republicans, and our grandchildren will have to build a new government, because the one we have will be unrecognizable and unworkable."
From:
"Broken Government"
By John W. Dean
Monday, September 10, 2007
Wicked: The Life and Times of the Wicked Witch of the West
by Gregory Maguire
Let me deliver the punchline so I can get to the outgassing: for the most part, I found this book a slog and wouldn't recommend it to anyone other than rabid fans of anything Oz, or someone who's interested in the genre of gay fiction.
The oddest thing about Wicked is that it's compelling yet boring. It's like listening to someone at a party who just slaughters jokes, but the jokes themselves are so good, you're willing to reconstruct them in your head so they're funny again. This novel is full of concepts that are intriguing, but the execution thereof ... well let's just say the "execution" hews closer to the "killing" definition rather than "realization".
The style defied judicious skimming, too. When I tried to skim, I often had to go back to dig out a detail in the middle of a tedious paragraph in order for things to make sense. I was impressed and infuriated at the same time.
The biggest flaw was that Maguire has no sense of magic. Every time magical events occurred, they were anticlimactic. Often they felt like afterthoughts, or grudging inclusions due to the fact they were in the original stories, or movie.
For example, a character other than the witch, Nor, discovers that the witch's broom actually flies. She goes for a quick, surprise ride, and when the witch sees her, she takes the broom back and goes for a ride herself. (The scene contains a cute dirty joke about how the broom at first tries to distract her by rubbing itself lustily against her crotch.) Now, she's been carrying the broom around for a while (which is never explained), but someone else figures out it's magic? Please.
Wicked (the novel) is really a sociopolitical fable about being gay. It ain't easy being green, especially when it's subtext for being gay. Also, there are animals and Animals, being those who don't talk and those who do. During the course of the novel, the Wizard has the Animals hunted down and put back out to pasture, taking them from their jobs and homes, etc. There are so many levels of gay subtext, it's like an Escher piece on gay subtext.
That is not a put-down, but more of a complaint about a limitation. You can only work that angle so many ways, and then it gets tedious. A story has to be about more than one thing to be whole. Let me give you another example, though it's beloved (even by me): the famous Catcher in the Rye. It's a one-trick pony, too. The style elevates it above its limitations, but really it’s a few hundred pages of "this one time, at band camp" as told by a teenager having a nervous breakdown. Great read because of the style, but the story is numbing.
Beyond that, the tone of Wicked is bitter. It reminded me of an author I loathe (though I don't loathe Maguire - I think he has a talent of a sort), Margaret Atwood, where everything in her fictional worlds is adulterated, ugly, dying, cancerous, and fetid. She has a "cookbook" (how to write), where she offers the concept that everything is about death. Gosh, ya just wanna have her along on a long road trip, doncha?
My final complaint is that after a slog through hundreds of pages of Elphaba's backstory, the last part of the novel is almost completely detached from it, and Elphaba's sole motivation is getting her sister's freakin' shoes back! Well, you may say, that's that happened in the Wizard of Oz, too, Mr. High and Mighty. Fine! I'd shoot back, but many OTHER things were changed in this re-imagining of the story, so couldn't the finale been about a bit more than SHOE SHOPPING!
To me, the most intriguing thing about Wicked and the original Baum Oz novels is how they both spawned superior works. The original movie is much better than the novel(s) - sorry Oz fans, it just is - and the musical Wicked is head and shoulders above its source material, according to my wife (and from what I can tell of the plot summary of the play).
As most avid readers know, the phenom of the derivative being better is exceedingly rare. The only other one I can think of is Bladerunner, which is so much better than the source novel, I'm tempted to make the sick joke that Philip K. Dick's death might have been from embarrassment. (See? That's just wrong.)
Anyway, I wonder why lightening struck twice when it comes to The Wizard of Oz and Wicked, though?
by Gregory Maguire
Let me deliver the punchline so I can get to the outgassing: for the most part, I found this book a slog and wouldn't recommend it to anyone other than rabid fans of anything Oz, or someone who's interested in the genre of gay fiction.
The oddest thing about Wicked is that it's compelling yet boring. It's like listening to someone at a party who just slaughters jokes, but the jokes themselves are so good, you're willing to reconstruct them in your head so they're funny again. This novel is full of concepts that are intriguing, but the execution thereof ... well let's just say the "execution" hews closer to the "killing" definition rather than "realization".
The style defied judicious skimming, too. When I tried to skim, I often had to go back to dig out a detail in the middle of a tedious paragraph in order for things to make sense. I was impressed and infuriated at the same time.
The biggest flaw was that Maguire has no sense of magic. Every time magical events occurred, they were anticlimactic. Often they felt like afterthoughts, or grudging inclusions due to the fact they were in the original stories, or movie.
For example, a character other than the witch, Nor, discovers that the witch's broom actually flies. She goes for a quick, surprise ride, and when the witch sees her, she takes the broom back and goes for a ride herself. (The scene contains a cute dirty joke about how the broom at first tries to distract her by rubbing itself lustily against her crotch.) Now, she's been carrying the broom around for a while (which is never explained), but someone else figures out it's magic? Please.
Wicked (the novel) is really a sociopolitical fable about being gay. It ain't easy being green, especially when it's subtext for being gay. Also, there are animals and Animals, being those who don't talk and those who do. During the course of the novel, the Wizard has the Animals hunted down and put back out to pasture, taking them from their jobs and homes, etc. There are so many levels of gay subtext, it's like an Escher piece on gay subtext.
That is not a put-down, but more of a complaint about a limitation. You can only work that angle so many ways, and then it gets tedious. A story has to be about more than one thing to be whole. Let me give you another example, though it's beloved (even by me): the famous Catcher in the Rye. It's a one-trick pony, too. The style elevates it above its limitations, but really it’s a few hundred pages of "this one time, at band camp" as told by a teenager having a nervous breakdown. Great read because of the style, but the story is numbing.
Beyond that, the tone of Wicked is bitter. It reminded me of an author I loathe (though I don't loathe Maguire - I think he has a talent of a sort), Margaret Atwood, where everything in her fictional worlds is adulterated, ugly, dying, cancerous, and fetid. She has a "cookbook" (how to write), where she offers the concept that everything is about death. Gosh, ya just wanna have her along on a long road trip, doncha?
My final complaint is that after a slog through hundreds of pages of Elphaba's backstory, the last part of the novel is almost completely detached from it, and Elphaba's sole motivation is getting her sister's freakin' shoes back! Well, you may say, that's that happened in the Wizard of Oz, too, Mr. High and Mighty. Fine! I'd shoot back, but many OTHER things were changed in this re-imagining of the story, so couldn't the finale been about a bit more than SHOE SHOPPING!
To me, the most intriguing thing about Wicked and the original Baum Oz novels is how they both spawned superior works. The original movie is much better than the novel(s) - sorry Oz fans, it just is - and the musical Wicked is head and shoulders above its source material, according to my wife (and from what I can tell of the plot summary of the play).
As most avid readers know, the phenom of the derivative being better is exceedingly rare. The only other one I can think of is Bladerunner, which is so much better than the source novel, I'm tempted to make the sick joke that Philip K. Dick's death might have been from embarrassment. (See? That's just wrong.)
Anyway, I wonder why lightening struck twice when it comes to The Wizard of Oz and Wicked, though?
It Can't Happen Here, Part 87
Cheney has issued instructions for the media to sell a war with Iran to us. The mind sorta boggles. It would full-goose bozo boggle if these poltroons hadn't done this kind of crap before, but it's still outrageous.
In other news, the police in DC are being Gestapo-like, breaking up peaceful protests, and trumping up BS reasons like they're using unapproved tape when hanging signs. No kidding.
The 2blowhards have a nice guest posting on da war (as usual, make sure you check out the comments).
And, what the heck, let's top it off with a bullet list of the Shrub's accomplishments.
Cheney has issued instructions for the media to sell a war with Iran to us. The mind sorta boggles. It would full-goose bozo boggle if these poltroons hadn't done this kind of crap before, but it's still outrageous.
In other news, the police in DC are being Gestapo-like, breaking up peaceful protests, and trumping up BS reasons like they're using unapproved tape when hanging signs. No kidding.
The 2blowhards have a nice guest posting on da war (as usual, make sure you check out the comments).
And, what the heck, let's top it off with a bullet list of the Shrub's accomplishments.
Media Consumption, 9/6/2007
I Think I Love My Wife
Chris Rock's I Think I Love My Wife was a fun little flick, even though it has some awkward moments, probably since this is Rock's first time (hopefully not his last) as writer, director, and star. I continue to be impressed at what a full threat/whole package artist Rock is.
Premonition
Sandra Bullock (who I just love to watch, even if her films haven't been great in a while), like Vonnegut's Billy Pilgrim, comes unstuck in time the week her husband dies in a car accident. If I were to guess, though, I'd proffer that the screenwriter, Bill Kelly, has neither been married, nor has kids - the relationships feel false. If you look past that, though, it's an OK time at the movies. Buck rental, say, or loan from the library.
Pan's Labyrinth
Here I go, having to recuse myself again because I just can't cotton to a story in which a child is killed. Now before you think I've given something away, you learn this at the beginning of the movie. I had just hoped it would turn out differently.
The movie is visually brilliant, the creatures look real, and it's compelling, so it's a good movie.
But I just can't walk away from a movie where a child dies and say I liked it. Alas.
I Think I Love My Wife
Chris Rock's I Think I Love My Wife was a fun little flick, even though it has some awkward moments, probably since this is Rock's first time (hopefully not his last) as writer, director, and star. I continue to be impressed at what a full threat/whole package artist Rock is.
Premonition
Sandra Bullock (who I just love to watch, even if her films haven't been great in a while), like Vonnegut's Billy Pilgrim, comes unstuck in time the week her husband dies in a car accident. If I were to guess, though, I'd proffer that the screenwriter, Bill Kelly, has neither been married, nor has kids - the relationships feel false. If you look past that, though, it's an OK time at the movies. Buck rental, say, or loan from the library.
Pan's Labyrinth
Here I go, having to recuse myself again because I just can't cotton to a story in which a child is killed. Now before you think I've given something away, you learn this at the beginning of the movie. I had just hoped it would turn out differently.
The movie is visually brilliant, the creatures look real, and it's compelling, so it's a good movie.
But I just can't walk away from a movie where a child dies and say I liked it. Alas.
Wednesday, September 05, 2007
Free song alert
The group "Cake" has samples from their new release on their site, and among them is the old Muppet classic "Mahna Mahna (Bop Bee Bahdeepee)." [Right-click, save as for Windows - Macs, you know what to do.]
Here's the original:
And for the heck of it, here's probably the funniest Muppet sketch ever (well, on Sesame Street anyway).
________
Update:
Here's an alternate take on "Mahna Mahna" - ROFLMAO:
godfather pop art
This is a thing of beauty. Can you imagine the time that went into it?
I wonder if the text is from the novel or the script.
Your Eyes Colorize
This is one of the better optical illusions I've come across. Note that the color holds until you move your eyes.
The group "Cake" has samples from their new release on their site, and among them is the old Muppet classic "Mahna Mahna (Bop Bee Bahdeepee)." [Right-click, save as for Windows - Macs, you know what to do.]
Here's the original:
And for the heck of it, here's probably the funniest Muppet sketch ever (well, on Sesame Street anyway).
________
Update:
Here's an alternate take on "Mahna Mahna" - ROFLMAO:
godfather pop art
This is a thing of beauty. Can you imagine the time that went into it?
I wonder if the text is from the novel or the script.
Your Eyes Colorize
This is one of the better optical illusions I've come across. Note that the color holds until you move your eyes.
Thursday, August 30, 2007
All Things Simpson
Did I mention I saw The Simpson's Movie a while back? It was essentially a really good Simpson's episode, from back in the day when most of them were good. They turned a corner somewhere after season 8, and while there's still a good snort once in a while, it's not what is once was. Keep in mind, that's like saying Coca-cola isn't good anymore since they changed to high fructose corn syrup from sugar; it's still Coke with that great taste, but it was once better.
For instance, the send-ups of religion used to be essentially warm-hearted, and sometimes even subtle, but now it's typically shrill atheist rhetoric, kinda like the daily post about religion on Digg. It was nicer when it was, well, nicer.
Still, MPC1 and I laughed a lot. The gag where they show Bart's little Bart is especially clever. Marge has the best laugh-line. There's not enough Krusty the Clown, though. And, alas, no groundskeeper Willie (maybe one line).
It's a must for fans, a decent DVD rental for those who enjoy clever animated films.
The marketing was clever, too. They have a site up where you can find out how you look as a Simpsons character.
Here are the results for my family unit. We all agree that my lovely wife's is the closest. She's in a barrel because one of the clothes options was "birthday suit" and MPC1 wanted to see if they'd really show cartoon nudity, like in the movie.
Did I mention I saw The Simpson's Movie a while back? It was essentially a really good Simpson's episode, from back in the day when most of them were good. They turned a corner somewhere after season 8, and while there's still a good snort once in a while, it's not what is once was. Keep in mind, that's like saying Coca-cola isn't good anymore since they changed to high fructose corn syrup from sugar; it's still Coke with that great taste, but it was once better.
For instance, the send-ups of religion used to be essentially warm-hearted, and sometimes even subtle, but now it's typically shrill atheist rhetoric, kinda like the daily post about religion on Digg. It was nicer when it was, well, nicer.
Still, MPC1 and I laughed a lot. The gag where they show Bart's little Bart is especially clever. Marge has the best laugh-line. There's not enough Krusty the Clown, though. And, alas, no groundskeeper Willie (maybe one line).
It's a must for fans, a decent DVD rental for those who enjoy clever animated films.
The marketing was clever, too. They have a site up where you can find out how you look as a Simpsons character.
Here are the results for my family unit. We all agree that my lovely wife's is the closest. She's in a barrel because one of the clothes options was "birthday suit" and MPC1 wanted to see if they'd really show cartoon nudity, like in the movie.
 |  |
 |  |
Wednesday, August 22, 2007
Recent Viewings, Aug. 22, 2007
Hot Fuzz
I LOVED this movie! I laughed out loud so much my wife kept asking what was so funny (I was watching it downstairs because it's too graphic for the kids to even hear some of it).
Essentially, Hot Fuzz is the This is Spinal Tap of cop films. It walks that molecular strip on the very tippy-top edge of the razor blade of being both a parody and a legit offering of the genre all at the same time.
The violence is shockingly over the top. I haven't been so gob smacked by ultra-violence since my first viewing of Robcop. I think I called for the Lord out loud when one guy is offed by a falling church stone.
This is the first movie I've considered having a copy of in a long time.
Make sure you catch this one.
Wild Hogs
Damn but I wish John Travolta wasn't a Scientologist. It's ruined it for me the same way the gerbil story about Richard Gere did. I think Travolta is just a great actor. Truly tops. But dammit, I just can't get past the Xenu thing when I see him in a flick. [Sigh.]
Anyway, Wild Hogs is a sitcom of a movie comedy with recycled jokes as obvious as a gigantic white-headed zit on the tip of your nose, but it entertains. Make it a cheap rental, free library checkout, or wait for it to hit TV, and then waste the hour and a half.
Travolta's still fun to watch. He always brings something, ya know?
And the actor who plays Dr. Cox on "Scrubs", John C. McGinley, plays a gay highway patrolman who mistakes the gang for fellow gay players; the results are a snort.
The Prestige
This is a well-done movie with a lot of fun bluster. Worth a view if you've got the time.
However, it takes about 40 minutes too long to get to an ending that's telegraphed about half way in. If you're not opposed to fast-forwarding through needless stuff, then you can start skipping at about the time Tesla reveals what's really happening with the hats.
Cashback
Roger Ebert is reviewing again (huzzah!) and had a review of Cashback recently which peaked my interest. So I borrowed the collection that contained the original short version. (I'm into brevity with such things, if possible, these days. Kinda tired of movies that gratuitously pass the two-hour mark. I'm looking at you, The Prestige.)
Cashback commits to celluloid a fantasy every red-blooded guy I know has had: freezing time and going around pulling off the clothes of woman to see them nekkid, then re-dressing them and starting time again, with the victim unaware. Yes, men are pigs, doo dah doo dah. But, this is just one of those universal things, apparently.
The nudity is brazen and prurient, as it would need to be for the concept. Still, I haven't seen shots this explicit in a movie of this type before (read "non-porn").
And the movie achieves its point. If I actually had the gift to stop time and undress cuties (and let's face it, if I did it at all, I'd undress the plain and ugly ones too), I'd feel pretty creepy about it. I felt pretty creepy watching it occur in the movie, even if fictionally.
Of course I recommend the flick. (The short one anyway; I'll hazard a guess that the full-length version doesn't contain that much more nudity or story points, you just get to see the plot that's merely telegraphed in the short version played out in full; why not save the time ... (get it?)).
Hot Fuzz
I LOVED this movie! I laughed out loud so much my wife kept asking what was so funny (I was watching it downstairs because it's too graphic for the kids to even hear some of it).
Essentially, Hot Fuzz is the This is Spinal Tap of cop films. It walks that molecular strip on the very tippy-top edge of the razor blade of being both a parody and a legit offering of the genre all at the same time.
The violence is shockingly over the top. I haven't been so gob smacked by ultra-violence since my first viewing of Robcop. I think I called for the Lord out loud when one guy is offed by a falling church stone.
This is the first movie I've considered having a copy of in a long time.
Make sure you catch this one.
Wild Hogs
Damn but I wish John Travolta wasn't a Scientologist. It's ruined it for me the same way the gerbil story about Richard Gere did. I think Travolta is just a great actor. Truly tops. But dammit, I just can't get past the Xenu thing when I see him in a flick. [Sigh.]
Anyway, Wild Hogs is a sitcom of a movie comedy with recycled jokes as obvious as a gigantic white-headed zit on the tip of your nose, but it entertains. Make it a cheap rental, free library checkout, or wait for it to hit TV, and then waste the hour and a half.
Travolta's still fun to watch. He always brings something, ya know?
And the actor who plays Dr. Cox on "Scrubs", John C. McGinley, plays a gay highway patrolman who mistakes the gang for fellow gay players; the results are a snort.
The Prestige
This is a well-done movie with a lot of fun bluster. Worth a view if you've got the time.
However, it takes about 40 minutes too long to get to an ending that's telegraphed about half way in. If you're not opposed to fast-forwarding through needless stuff, then you can start skipping at about the time Tesla reveals what's really happening with the hats.
Cashback
Roger Ebert is reviewing again (huzzah!) and had a review of Cashback recently which peaked my interest. So I borrowed the collection that contained the original short version. (I'm into brevity with such things, if possible, these days. Kinda tired of movies that gratuitously pass the two-hour mark. I'm looking at you, The Prestige.)
Cashback commits to celluloid a fantasy every red-blooded guy I know has had: freezing time and going around pulling off the clothes of woman to see them nekkid, then re-dressing them and starting time again, with the victim unaware. Yes, men are pigs, doo dah doo dah. But, this is just one of those universal things, apparently.
The nudity is brazen and prurient, as it would need to be for the concept. Still, I haven't seen shots this explicit in a movie of this type before (read "non-porn").
And the movie achieves its point. If I actually had the gift to stop time and undress cuties (and let's face it, if I did it at all, I'd undress the plain and ugly ones too), I'd feel pretty creepy about it. I felt pretty creepy watching it occur in the movie, even if fictionally.
Of course I recommend the flick. (The short one anyway; I'll hazard a guess that the full-length version doesn't contain that much more nudity or story points, you just get to see the plot that's merely telegraphed in the short version played out in full; why not save the time ... (get it?)).
9/11 pictures on money
I think this is just an eerie cowinkydink, but it's interesting nonetheless.
This video shows if you fold the $20 and the $5 bills, you see the Twin Towers before and after.
I think this is just an eerie cowinkydink, but it's interesting nonetheless.
This video shows if you fold the $20 and the $5 bills, you see the Twin Towers before and after.
Bashing Global Warming
#792343
<SaxxonPike> mmm, steak
<SLASHSPIT> you guys don't respect the environment, do you?
<SaxxonPike> I respect a good dinner
<SLASHSPIT> how can you eat that? cows are like one of the largest contributors of methane gas
<SLASHSPIT> which contributes to global warming and stuff
<SLASHSPIT> so what are you all doing for the environment?
<SaxxonPike> I eat the fucking cows
#792343
<SaxxonPike> mmm, steak
<SLASHSPIT> you guys don't respect the environment, do you?
<SaxxonPike> I respect a good dinner
<SLASHSPIT> how can you eat that? cows are like one of the largest contributors of methane gas
<SLASHSPIT> which contributes to global warming and stuff
<SLASHSPIT> so what are you all doing for the environment?
<SaxxonPike> I eat the fucking cows
Oh Snap! Bashing on Jesus
#792888
<Claws> Disabled people are the greatest.
<Claws> I have a friend who is in a wheel chair and he has the most awesome sense of humour ever.
<Claws> The other day two of my other friends were having an argument about something trivial, one of them turned to him and said "You'll stand up for me won't you"
<Claws> He just looked him straight in the eye and with the straightest face you'll ever see, said "Only if your name's Jesus"
#792888
<Claws> Disabled people are the greatest.
<Claws> I have a friend who is in a wheel chair and he has the most awesome sense of humour ever.
<Claws> The other day two of my other friends were having an argument about something trivial, one of them turned to him and said "You'll stand up for me won't you"
<Claws> He just looked him straight in the eye and with the straightest face you'll ever see, said "Only if your name's Jesus"
Reason #8,901 Why I Love That Woman
Our littlest is now commencing with potty training. She's up to always peeing in the potty when she's up and about, only wearing a diaper for sleeping and pooping. (Both of our daughters thus far have approached to two excretory functions as completely different animals, re potty training, which is a mystery to me.)
So, she was up from her nap, past the grogginess, and so my wife removed her diaper without performing a check first (something both of us are guilty of half the time). Alas, shite was in voluminous evidence, so the family unit sprang into action.
Wipes were delivered, diaper disposed of, etc.
I sat back down and continued reading as the cleanup commenced.
Then I heard my wife mutter, "Jeez. She's clenching like a freshman in the slammer."
Our littlest is now commencing with potty training. She's up to always peeing in the potty when she's up and about, only wearing a diaper for sleeping and pooping. (Both of our daughters thus far have approached to two excretory functions as completely different animals, re potty training, which is a mystery to me.)
So, she was up from her nap, past the grogginess, and so my wife removed her diaper without performing a check first (something both of us are guilty of half the time). Alas, shite was in voluminous evidence, so the family unit sprang into action.
Wipes were delivered, diaper disposed of, etc.
I sat back down and continued reading as the cleanup commenced.
Then I heard my wife mutter, "Jeez. She's clenching like a freshman in the slammer."
Monday, August 20, 2007
Pwned, Smack-down, so-there!
This has to be one of the funniest parental retribution stories I've ever heard.
This has to be one of the funniest parental retribution stories I've ever heard.
Thursday, August 16, 2007
Fear Not
Well, they're not John Stossel, but I think "Cracked" magazine is on to something anyway: What should really be scaring you.
My favorite line: "How about the fact that carbon emissions are about to turn the 677,676-square-mile Greenland Ice Sheet into a giant, extinction-flavored Slurpee?"
And who'da thunk that Cracked magazine - essentially to "Mad" magazine what "Hustler" magazine is to "Playboy" (and it's not even "Penthouse") - would still be around, funny, and maybe even relevant. (I've read a few good lists there lately.)
Well, they're not John Stossel, but I think "Cracked" magazine is on to something anyway: What should really be scaring you.
My favorite line: "How about the fact that carbon emissions are about to turn the 677,676-square-mile Greenland Ice Sheet into a giant, extinction-flavored Slurpee?"
And who'da thunk that Cracked magazine - essentially to "Mad" magazine what "Hustler" magazine is to "Playboy" (and it's not even "Penthouse") - would still be around, funny, and maybe even relevant. (I've read a few good lists there lately.)
Friday, August 10, 2007
Group hug
Besides porn, blogs, youtube, music resources, wikipedia, and google, the web offers something unique to modern times: Truly anonymous and unchecked voyeurism, and usually the subject - the voyee - is a willing participant.
Waaay back in the Cambrian explosion of the early web, non-pornographic cam girls, like Jennifer Ringly of Jennicam, and Puce (I think her real name is Sarah) posted cam shots of their day, occasionally posted blogs (before they were called that, and hardly anyone did it), and they were good, dirty, voyeuristic fun. Mostly because they were the authors and producers of their sites.
(One of Puce's better posts was after she'd shaved her nethers and discovered that it made it much more apparent to her when she got the hots. She got on the elevator with a boy she had a crush on, and immediately noticed she got wet. As a guy, that is something I'd never experience, of course, nor would I likely be told of such a thing by a woman. It was fun.)
It's like that great scene in American Beauty when the teenage girl notices the teenage boy next door videotaping her in her room. She goes over an opens her blouse, defiantly looking the guy right in the eye, or lens, if you will.
From what I can tell, there's not a lot of that kind of thing anymore. They're either true porn sites, or actresses just trying to get some attention. (Though Ana Voog is still at it.)
Well, the other day, I stumbledupon this site called Grouphug.
The premise is anyone can go on there and anonymously confess a deep dark secret. It's mesmerizing reading. Yes, some of these have to be pure, unadulterated BS, but they're interesting just the same because someone thought them up anyway, the sick fucks.
I warn you, you will get sucked into this for a while. Also, if you have a web filter at your place of employ that hunts for naughty words, don't read this site at work. It has them all.
(Also, don't be fooled that it's truly anonymous because they say so. Unless you are going through a site that you know hides your identity, which are harder to come by since 9-11, you can be tracked. So if you must confess, find a way to truly be anonymous.)
Besides porn, blogs, youtube, music resources, wikipedia, and google, the web offers something unique to modern times: Truly anonymous and unchecked voyeurism, and usually the subject - the voyee - is a willing participant.
Waaay back in the Cambrian explosion of the early web, non-pornographic cam girls, like Jennifer Ringly of Jennicam, and Puce (I think her real name is Sarah) posted cam shots of their day, occasionally posted blogs (before they were called that, and hardly anyone did it), and they were good, dirty, voyeuristic fun. Mostly because they were the authors and producers of their sites.
(One of Puce's better posts was after she'd shaved her nethers and discovered that it made it much more apparent to her when she got the hots. She got on the elevator with a boy she had a crush on, and immediately noticed she got wet. As a guy, that is something I'd never experience, of course, nor would I likely be told of such a thing by a woman. It was fun.)
It's like that great scene in American Beauty when the teenage girl notices the teenage boy next door videotaping her in her room. She goes over an opens her blouse, defiantly looking the guy right in the eye, or lens, if you will.
From what I can tell, there's not a lot of that kind of thing anymore. They're either true porn sites, or actresses just trying to get some attention. (Though Ana Voog is still at it.)
Well, the other day, I stumbledupon this site called Grouphug.
The premise is anyone can go on there and anonymously confess a deep dark secret. It's mesmerizing reading. Yes, some of these have to be pure, unadulterated BS, but they're interesting just the same because someone thought them up anyway, the sick fucks.
I warn you, you will get sucked into this for a while. Also, if you have a web filter at your place of employ that hunts for naughty words, don't read this site at work. It has them all.
(Also, don't be fooled that it's truly anonymous because they say so. Unless you are going through a site that you know hides your identity, which are harder to come by since 9-11, you can be tracked. So if you must confess, find a way to truly be anonymous.)
Video Corner
It's time for some videos!
First is this hilarious report from Faux News about a cop who stole some pot from a bust, and then ends up calling 911 because he thought he and his wife were dying.
Best reporter crackup ever! Especially the post-giggle snort off-camera.
I sat aghast, jaw swinging, as I watched this horror clip. How in the hell can these people be reading the same Bible I am?
After watching that, anyone would need to chill out. So...
About a month ago, I posted this mesmerizing morph of paintings of women. Someone has done the same thing with Hollywood actresses. I would love to put these up at parties and just loop them.
It's time for some videos!
First is this hilarious report from Faux News about a cop who stole some pot from a bust, and then ends up calling 911 because he thought he and his wife were dying.
Best reporter crackup ever! Especially the post-giggle snort off-camera.
I sat aghast, jaw swinging, as I watched this horror clip. How in the hell can these people be reading the same Bible I am?
After watching that, anyone would need to chill out. So...
About a month ago, I posted this mesmerizing morph of paintings of women. Someone has done the same thing with Hollywood actresses. I would love to put these up at parties and just loop them.
White Light, Black Rain
A documentary by Steven Okazaki
Watched this just-out-on-DVD documentary about the bombings of Hiroshima and Nagasaki.
The documentary itself is rife with cliches, and a glaring contradiction as a somber message announces at the outset that this material has been suppressed by the American government yet later we see news reels and TV shows that talk openly about the horrors of the aftermath.
Fortunately the information transcends the form. I was gripped from start to finish.
The story about the two girls who came upon their mother's charred body that fell into a pile of ash once they touched it will haunt me to the end of my days.
It also cooled my jets somewhat about liking the idea presented in the recent Nelson DeMille novel, Wildfire, which suggests that we have nukes ready to convert the Middle East into a glowing glass crater should a nuke go off in the states. I still think that's going to happen, but the thought of all those babies and children having to go through such a horror is beyond my ability to process.
I heartily recommend anyone who's interested in hearing about it from the people who were there.
Here's the official web site.
A documentary by Steven Okazaki
Watched this just-out-on-DVD documentary about the bombings of Hiroshima and Nagasaki.
The documentary itself is rife with cliches, and a glaring contradiction as a somber message announces at the outset that this material has been suppressed by the American government yet later we see news reels and TV shows that talk openly about the horrors of the aftermath.
Fortunately the information transcends the form. I was gripped from start to finish.
The story about the two girls who came upon their mother's charred body that fell into a pile of ash once they touched it will haunt me to the end of my days.
It also cooled my jets somewhat about liking the idea presented in the recent Nelson DeMille novel, Wildfire, which suggests that we have nukes ready to convert the Middle East into a glowing glass crater should a nuke go off in the states. I still think that's going to happen, but the thought of all those babies and children having to go through such a horror is beyond my ability to process.
I heartily recommend anyone who's interested in hearing about it from the people who were there.
Here's the official web site.
Winter Kills
Or, The big movie that couldn't.
When I snagged it from a combing of the library shelves in preparation for a few days off, I was surprised that I had not seen this particular Jeff Bridges film, as I am a fan and try to see most of his, and then more surprised at the big deal cast, and the fact that it was ostensively (odd, MS Word doesn't know that word) about the JFK assassination, based on a big novel from a renowned author. If it had any better of a pedigree, it would've gotten an honorary "best of show" at the Oscars ® in 1979.
Apparently, this movie spent about two weeks in theatres in only a few towns. All the folks - the stars, director, etc. - all register their surprise at the flop. They all gave heart and soul to make it.
Actually, they went so far as to stop production because no one was getting paid, and the crew went off to Europe to make a cheap, audience-pleasing quickie - The American Success Company (unavailable as far as I can tell) - the finance the completion of Winter Kills.
How it is as a flick? Well it starts out like the movie it is - splashy, glossy, big-deal. It thunders along nicely for a while. It has a rather shocking sex scene that would garner it an NC-17 rating today as the woman's boobs flop back and forth while Jeff Bridges pounds away (the ratings boards actually counts thrusts, and there are a multitude here), and she screams orgasmically so loudly that Bridges has to cover her face with a pillow. For a moment I couldn't believe I was seeing such a graphic scene from such an old movie. Usually movies from that time that have a scene that blatant got eviscerated by the press.
It takes a serious left turn in the third act when Bridges goes and visits Norman Bates - woops, I mean Anthony Perkins - in the secret super-computer lair that borrows a lot of its set design from Forbidden Planet. It's a major movie faux pas to have Norman provide the answers to all the mysteries thus far in a big gushing regurgitation of exposition. At least Jeff Bridges breaks his arm with a crowbar for the offense. We learn in the extras that in fact Bridges did break Perkins' arm in the shot, but Perkins cowboyed up and finished the scene without anyone on set knowing he was standing there with a smashed femur.
The ending is a big muffled fart. We know by now who the villain is (which I'd guessed in the first act, way before Perkins spills the beans), and so the final scenes are just kinda silly.
If you see this at all (for the sex scene at least - you know who you are), you'll find the documentary on the film better than the film itself.
Or, The big movie that couldn't.
When I snagged it from a combing of the library shelves in preparation for a few days off, I was surprised that I had not seen this particular Jeff Bridges film, as I am a fan and try to see most of his, and then more surprised at the big deal cast, and the fact that it was ostensively (odd, MS Word doesn't know that word) about the JFK assassination, based on a big novel from a renowned author. If it had any better of a pedigree, it would've gotten an honorary "best of show" at the Oscars ® in 1979.
Apparently, this movie spent about two weeks in theatres in only a few towns. All the folks - the stars, director, etc. - all register their surprise at the flop. They all gave heart and soul to make it.
Actually, they went so far as to stop production because no one was getting paid, and the crew went off to Europe to make a cheap, audience-pleasing quickie - The American Success Company (unavailable as far as I can tell) - the finance the completion of Winter Kills.
How it is as a flick? Well it starts out like the movie it is - splashy, glossy, big-deal. It thunders along nicely for a while. It has a rather shocking sex scene that would garner it an NC-17 rating today as the woman's boobs flop back and forth while Jeff Bridges pounds away (the ratings boards actually counts thrusts, and there are a multitude here), and she screams orgasmically so loudly that Bridges has to cover her face with a pillow. For a moment I couldn't believe I was seeing such a graphic scene from such an old movie. Usually movies from that time that have a scene that blatant got eviscerated by the press.
It takes a serious left turn in the third act when Bridges goes and visits Norman Bates - woops, I mean Anthony Perkins - in the secret super-computer lair that borrows a lot of its set design from Forbidden Planet. It's a major movie faux pas to have Norman provide the answers to all the mysteries thus far in a big gushing regurgitation of exposition. At least Jeff Bridges breaks his arm with a crowbar for the offense. We learn in the extras that in fact Bridges did break Perkins' arm in the shot, but Perkins cowboyed up and finished the scene without anyone on set knowing he was standing there with a smashed femur.
The ending is a big muffled fart. We know by now who the villain is (which I'd guessed in the first act, way before Perkins spills the beans), and so the final scenes are just kinda silly.
If you see this at all (for the sex scene at least - you know who you are), you'll find the documentary on the film better than the film itself.
Endings
"There's so much to say about the final volume of J.K. Rowling's Harry Potter saga, but let's get right down to the very end: The woman understands closure," says Mark Harris of "Entertainment Weekly."
Of all the stuff I read about the end of the Harry Potter series, that line stuck in my noggin as the most salient.
Perhaps it was because I'd experienced two other good closures in the last couple weeks, - so I inadvertently got a threefer on good closure. (Sounds like something they'd announce in K-mart: "Our threefer on closure is on sale for the next fifteen minutes, aisle 15, blue light special!")
My life was in turmoil back when one of my fav series of all time, "Moonlighting," was on the air. It was a struggle to catch episodes, not only because my life was in such upheaval, because the broadcasts of new episodes was notoriously spotty, and the network never announced when a new one was going to show. I'd nearly forgotten about that element until I watched the DVDs, and they'd started working jokes into the shows about it.
Because of the unpredictableness, I missed the series finale, and the bastards never broadcast it again. I've been mildly pissed off for years about that.
Well, I finally got to see it since the final season is out on DVD. And it was really good. Had I seen it back in the day, it would have blown me away, because the creators and writers of the show understood closure, and did about one of the only things they could've. (Since then, many shows since have stolen Moonlighting's thunder by aping some of its best gags, including the ending, so it wasn't as revelatory as it would have been to me had I not since seen pale imitations of it beforehand.)
After a wacky wedding episode, David Addison (Bruce Willis) struts down the hall to the office like he has a thousand times before only to encounter moving guys and a studio hack who tells him the show's cancelled. Cut to Maddie Hayes (Cybill Shepherd) getting off the elevator and strutting down the hall, too, as the camera lingers on her shapely legs before it pans up to her face, as always. (So we get the iconic opening to the show as a kick-off.) Once she's clued in, they make a mad dash to get married in order to save the show, and the priest gives them a great lecture on what love really means. They sit down on the alter, and Maddie says, "I can't believe I'm not going to see you again tomorrow." Then they do a montage of the best shots, ending with Willis doing is signature David Addison wave goodbye. Bliss.
I was a member of the tiny audience that really liked one of this year's failures, "Studio60." I thought the scripts were literate and funny, and did a great job of walking the tightrope of having characters with completely divergent views actually say things they would say. Even though she was a fundie, they tackled a character who was devoutly Christian, and made her believable and likeable. They did the same for her atheist on-again, off-again boyfriend. They did some great stuff about being black, too. But, the audience wandered and they got canceled. Since they knew this, they did a great three-parter for the ending, and their creative staff understood closure, too. The great troubled romance was resolved, two main players had a baby after a scary delivery, and so on. It was really well done and cathartic.
Hopefully we're going to see an era where artists realize that great closure is a thoughtful and welcome gift to their audience. (I'm looking at you, the people behind the disastrous Seinfeld finale.)
"There's so much to say about the final volume of J.K. Rowling's Harry Potter saga, but let's get right down to the very end: The woman understands closure," says Mark Harris of "Entertainment Weekly."
Of all the stuff I read about the end of the Harry Potter series, that line stuck in my noggin as the most salient.
Perhaps it was because I'd experienced two other good closures in the last couple weeks, - so I inadvertently got a threefer on good closure. (Sounds like something they'd announce in K-mart: "Our threefer on closure is on sale for the next fifteen minutes, aisle 15, blue light special!")
My life was in turmoil back when one of my fav series of all time, "Moonlighting," was on the air. It was a struggle to catch episodes, not only because my life was in such upheaval, because the broadcasts of new episodes was notoriously spotty, and the network never announced when a new one was going to show. I'd nearly forgotten about that element until I watched the DVDs, and they'd started working jokes into the shows about it.
Because of the unpredictableness, I missed the series finale, and the bastards never broadcast it again. I've been mildly pissed off for years about that.
Well, I finally got to see it since the final season is out on DVD. And it was really good. Had I seen it back in the day, it would have blown me away, because the creators and writers of the show understood closure, and did about one of the only things they could've. (Since then, many shows since have stolen Moonlighting's thunder by aping some of its best gags, including the ending, so it wasn't as revelatory as it would have been to me had I not since seen pale imitations of it beforehand.)
After a wacky wedding episode, David Addison (Bruce Willis) struts down the hall to the office like he has a thousand times before only to encounter moving guys and a studio hack who tells him the show's cancelled. Cut to Maddie Hayes (Cybill Shepherd) getting off the elevator and strutting down the hall, too, as the camera lingers on her shapely legs before it pans up to her face, as always. (So we get the iconic opening to the show as a kick-off.) Once she's clued in, they make a mad dash to get married in order to save the show, and the priest gives them a great lecture on what love really means. They sit down on the alter, and Maddie says, "I can't believe I'm not going to see you again tomorrow." Then they do a montage of the best shots, ending with Willis doing is signature David Addison wave goodbye. Bliss.
I was a member of the tiny audience that really liked one of this year's failures, "Studio60." I thought the scripts were literate and funny, and did a great job of walking the tightrope of having characters with completely divergent views actually say things they would say. Even though she was a fundie, they tackled a character who was devoutly Christian, and made her believable and likeable. They did the same for her atheist on-again, off-again boyfriend. They did some great stuff about being black, too. But, the audience wandered and they got canceled. Since they knew this, they did a great three-parter for the ending, and their creative staff understood closure, too. The great troubled romance was resolved, two main players had a baby after a scary delivery, and so on. It was really well done and cathartic.
Hopefully we're going to see an era where artists realize that great closure is a thoughtful and welcome gift to their audience. (I'm looking at you, the people behind the disastrous Seinfeld finale.)
Monday, July 30, 2007
Out there, somewhere 07-30-2007
When I start a post where I have to state something obvious, I typically hit a brick wall, because it feels kinda stupid to say stuff like:
"Inserting tracking chips into humans is bad pretty much any way you peel it."
Or
"I've noticed that true censorship and erosion of many rights (like having to pass a drug test for a job) come from corporate culture, not so much the government."
So, screw that, and read the article about one company requiring employees to get a microchip inserted in order to have certain security clearances.
Even though I've grudgingly submitted to pee tests when required, I think if a company asked me to get a tracking chip, that'd be a deal-breaker.
10 things i hate about star trek
This one is so true!:
5. Rule by committee.
Here's the difference between Star Trek and the best SF show on TV last year:
Star Trek:
Picard: "Arm photon torpedoes!"
Riker: "Captain! Are you sure that's wise?"
Troi: "Captain! I'm picking up conflicting feelings about this! And, it appears that you're a 'fraidy cat."
Wesley: "Captain, I'm just an annoying punk, but I thought I should say something."
Worf: "Captain, can I push the button? This is giving me a big Klingon warrior chubby."
Giordi: "Captain, I think we should reverse the polarity on them first."
Picard: "I'm so confused. I'm going to go to my stateroom and look pensive."
Firefly:
Captain: "Let's shoot them."
Crewman: "Are you sure that's wise?"
Captain: "Do you know what the chain of command is? It's the chain I'll BEAT YOU WITH until you realize who's in command."
Crewman: "Aye Aye, sir!"
(Recent favorite Bash.org quote.)
#785529
gazz: A bullet may have your name on it, but shrapnel is addressed "to whom it may concern".
Chris Rock is a national treasure. (Language NSFW.)
The big list: Female teachers with students
Most comprehensive account on Internet of women predators on campus
What kind of amazes me about this is the lack of wailing and gnashing of teeth about this in the news. If these were men, there'd be a new special every week.
And why do you suppose so many are dipping their toes into the student pool?
O hai. I fix ur bible now.
Great Ikea ad. It's about time someone did this.
Finally, ain't nothin' gonna break-uh my stride!
When I start a post where I have to state something obvious, I typically hit a brick wall, because it feels kinda stupid to say stuff like:
"Inserting tracking chips into humans is bad pretty much any way you peel it."
Or
"I've noticed that true censorship and erosion of many rights (like having to pass a drug test for a job) come from corporate culture, not so much the government."
So, screw that, and read the article about one company requiring employees to get a microchip inserted in order to have certain security clearances.
Even though I've grudgingly submitted to pee tests when required, I think if a company asked me to get a tracking chip, that'd be a deal-breaker.
10 things i hate about star trek
This one is so true!:
5. Rule by committee.
Here's the difference between Star Trek and the best SF show on TV last year:
Star Trek:
Picard: "Arm photon torpedoes!"
Riker: "Captain! Are you sure that's wise?"
Troi: "Captain! I'm picking up conflicting feelings about this! And, it appears that you're a 'fraidy cat."
Wesley: "Captain, I'm just an annoying punk, but I thought I should say something."
Worf: "Captain, can I push the button? This is giving me a big Klingon warrior chubby."
Giordi: "Captain, I think we should reverse the polarity on them first."
Picard: "I'm so confused. I'm going to go to my stateroom and look pensive."
Firefly:
Captain: "Let's shoot them."
Crewman: "Are you sure that's wise?"
Captain: "Do you know what the chain of command is? It's the chain I'll BEAT YOU WITH until you realize who's in command."
Crewman: "Aye Aye, sir!"
(Recent favorite Bash.org quote.)
#785529
gazz: A bullet may have your name on it, but shrapnel is addressed "to whom it may concern".
Chris Rock is a national treasure. (Language NSFW.)
The big list: Female teachers with students
Most comprehensive account on Internet of women predators on campus
What kind of amazes me about this is the lack of wailing and gnashing of teeth about this in the news. If these were men, there'd be a new special every week.
And why do you suppose so many are dipping their toes into the student pool?
O hai. I fix ur bible now.
Great Ikea ad. It's about time someone did this.
Finally, ain't nothin' gonna break-uh my stride!
Wednesday, July 25, 2007
Harry Potter Dreamin'
(Completely spoiler-free!)
Last night at 10:42 PM, I finished the final Harry Potter.
I thought it was glorious and a great ending to the series. (Said it before, I'll say it again) I think the Potter series is one of the best things written in our time.
Rowling is certainly versed in her Shakespeare, Campbell's "The Hero with a Thousand Faces" (which this funny alludes to), with a little Robertson Davies mixed in there, too. (My recent post on my top ten books would've included Davies' "Deptford Trilogy" had it gone to eleven.)
Now that nothing can be spoiled for me, I've surfed around and read some reviews. My, but there seems to be some jealousy issues out there. I especially chortle at the ones that take a swipe at Rowling's writing itself, which strikes me as particularly petty and telling. Yes, her storytelling is her greatest strength, but her style certainly pulls you through the books. Name some other authors that combine humor, adventure, tragedy, and suspense in language that is effective for both children and adults. I guess it's easy to attempt to disparage her accomplishment until you think about how many others have done it.
Or perhaps it's just that American pastime of tearing something down simply because it's become so popular. My wife (trying to rib me a bit) even asked if I felt like a lemming as I was reading it in the car on our way to somewhere.
Getting to the end of the journey - something I've looked forward to for year like all the fans - was, of course, bittersweet. My biggest worry was that she'd spliff the ending, but it was as good as I hoped it would be. To avoid spoilers, lets leave it at that.
Maybe this is the best way to describe how vivid the stories are...
I'd forgotten about this until it happened again, but every time I'm reading a Harry Potter book, I have dreams that have Harry, Ron, Hermione, and other characters from the stories in them. Not the movie actors either, but how I originally imagined the characters myself.
A story has to be pretty vivid to find its ways into my dreams.
Thank you J.K. Rowling for a great time!
___________
Update:
This is as spoiler-laden as it gets, so don't read it until you've finished the book. Rowling tells the stuff she didn't wedge into the Epilogue because [I]it didn’t work very well as a piece of writing. It felt very much that I had crowbarred in every bit of information I could … In a novel you have to resist the urge to tell everything.”
(via Kottke.org)
(Completely spoiler-free!)
Last night at 10:42 PM, I finished the final Harry Potter.
I thought it was glorious and a great ending to the series. (Said it before, I'll say it again) I think the Potter series is one of the best things written in our time.
Rowling is certainly versed in her Shakespeare, Campbell's "The Hero with a Thousand Faces" (which this funny alludes to), with a little Robertson Davies mixed in there, too. (My recent post on my top ten books would've included Davies' "Deptford Trilogy" had it gone to eleven.)
Now that nothing can be spoiled for me, I've surfed around and read some reviews. My, but there seems to be some jealousy issues out there. I especially chortle at the ones that take a swipe at Rowling's writing itself, which strikes me as particularly petty and telling. Yes, her storytelling is her greatest strength, but her style certainly pulls you through the books. Name some other authors that combine humor, adventure, tragedy, and suspense in language that is effective for both children and adults. I guess it's easy to attempt to disparage her accomplishment until you think about how many others have done it.
Or perhaps it's just that American pastime of tearing something down simply because it's become so popular. My wife (trying to rib me a bit) even asked if I felt like a lemming as I was reading it in the car on our way to somewhere.
Getting to the end of the journey - something I've looked forward to for year like all the fans - was, of course, bittersweet. My biggest worry was that she'd spliff the ending, but it was as good as I hoped it would be. To avoid spoilers, lets leave it at that.
Maybe this is the best way to describe how vivid the stories are...
I'd forgotten about this until it happened again, but every time I'm reading a Harry Potter book, I have dreams that have Harry, Ron, Hermione, and other characters from the stories in them. Not the movie actors either, but how I originally imagined the characters myself.
A story has to be pretty vivid to find its ways into my dreams.
Thank you J.K. Rowling for a great time!
___________
Update:
This is as spoiler-laden as it gets, so don't read it until you've finished the book. Rowling tells the stuff she didn't wedge into the Epilogue because [I]it didn’t work very well as a piece of writing. It felt very much that I had crowbarred in every bit of information I could … In a novel you have to resist the urge to tell everything.”
(via Kottke.org)
Good Girls
Our 2 1/2 year old daughter tends to stuff her mouth completely full when she eats, and then will open her mouth for another spoonful. We often have to say, "Swallow what's in your mouth, then you can have some more."
Another favorite game of hers is to fill her mouth with whatever we've given her in a sippy cup, and then let it drain out.
She was doing this last night with her tea, so we warned her we'd take it away if she didn't stop. Alas, it came to be, and we gave her a cup of water instead. Though she initially appeared to have learned her lesson by losing the tea (her favorite), a short while later she resumed spitting out the water, and I said to her:
"Honey, good girls don't spit, they swallow."
The nanosecond those words left my mouth, I couldn't believe I'd said that. I even slapped my forehead and said, "I can't believe I said that."
It took my wife a good 10 minutes to stop laughing hard enough so she could call all her friends and tell them.
Our 2 1/2 year old daughter tends to stuff her mouth completely full when she eats, and then will open her mouth for another spoonful. We often have to say, "Swallow what's in your mouth, then you can have some more."
Another favorite game of hers is to fill her mouth with whatever we've given her in a sippy cup, and then let it drain out.
She was doing this last night with her tea, so we warned her we'd take it away if she didn't stop. Alas, it came to be, and we gave her a cup of water instead. Though she initially appeared to have learned her lesson by losing the tea (her favorite), a short while later she resumed spitting out the water, and I said to her:
"Honey, good girls don't spit, they swallow."
The nanosecond those words left my mouth, I couldn't believe I'd said that. I even slapped my forehead and said, "I can't believe I said that."
It took my wife a good 10 minutes to stop laughing hard enough so she could call all her friends and tell them.
Friday, July 20, 2007
Aren't you glad this bozo is out of office?
Tom DeLay tells College Republicans that abortion, illegal immigration are linked:
"I contend [abortion] affects you in immigration," DeLay told the Washington-area gathering. "If we had those 40 million children that were killed over the last 30 years, we wouldn't need the illegal immigrants to fill the jobs that they are doing today. Think about it."
Tom DeLay tells College Republicans that abortion, illegal immigration are linked:
"I contend [abortion] affects you in immigration," DeLay told the Washington-area gathering. "If we had those 40 million children that were killed over the last 30 years, we wouldn't need the illegal immigrants to fill the jobs that they are doing today. Think about it."
Civil Asset Forfeiture expanded again
I have always groused about civil asset forfeiture - a legal right the govt. gave itself back in the Reagan days where they can take your possessions like your house and your cars if they suspect you of a crime. Note that: merely suspect you. It started with the drug war, but has quietly continued to expand to other illegal activities, such as hiring a prostitute. For instance, a mother once lost their only car because dad visited a hooker in it.
Well, just this week, Georgie expanded civil asset forfeiture again to include those who "Threaten Stabilization Efforts in Iraq."
The outrageousness and dangerousness of this kind of thing speaks for itself, so I won't rant on about it.
However, even some Republicans are getting nervous the George and the gang intend to essentially declare a dictatorship, since recently George also gave himself the power to be a dictator should a national emergency occur. My wife, a polysci major, feels that even if they did, congress would step in and do something.
I'm I being unrealistically paranoid? I dunno. What do you think?
I have always groused about civil asset forfeiture - a legal right the govt. gave itself back in the Reagan days where they can take your possessions like your house and your cars if they suspect you of a crime. Note that: merely suspect you. It started with the drug war, but has quietly continued to expand to other illegal activities, such as hiring a prostitute. For instance, a mother once lost their only car because dad visited a hooker in it.
Well, just this week, Georgie expanded civil asset forfeiture again to include those who "Threaten Stabilization Efforts in Iraq."
The outrageousness and dangerousness of this kind of thing speaks for itself, so I won't rant on about it.
However, even some Republicans are getting nervous the George and the gang intend to essentially declare a dictatorship, since recently George also gave himself the power to be a dictator should a national emergency occur. My wife, a polysci major, feels that even if they did, congress would step in and do something.
I'm I being unrealistically paranoid? I dunno. What do you think?
Wednesday, July 18, 2007
DINKs gotta stop living up to their name
(For honest and true, I began putting this together before M. Blowhard posted his series (great, as usual) on breeders vs. DINKs.)
In case you haven't heard, a mother, Kate Penland, and her baby (19 months) were kicked off a Continental flight this week because the baby kept saying "Bye-bye plane."
A baby repeating a phrase, which they do because they're LEARNING THE LANGUAGE, got them kicked off a flight.
A lot of hyperbole gets tossed around about indicators of the impending fall of the nation - we're Rome, we're gonna be forced to join a North American Union, gay marriage, etc. - but when the entire crew of an aircraft thinks that cute baby babble is a threat, you wonder if the horses of the apocalypse are stepping up to the chute.
Pilots are a pragmatic bunch by nature. (Coaxing tons of metal into the sky and back down safely again will do that to you.) So I'm surprised the conversation in the cockpit didn't go something like this:
Flight Attendant: "Captain, there's a child out there who keeps saying "bye bye plane" and the mother refuses to drug the child with benadryl, so we need to return to the gate."
The Captain tosses a look at the copilot, takes a quite breath and says: "Do you feel this behavior is endangering the flight?"
Flight Attendant: "It's driving me nuts!"
(After another pause) The Captain: "Why don't you borrow a dose of benadryl from the mother and strap into your little seat for a while?"
Now, we parents have an obligation not to subject folks to the extreme behaviors of our kids, but this kid wasn't really doing anything all that bad.
A recent article about this on Salon relates another horror story (edited to avoid getting in trouble):
Some anti-kid stuff you just gotta deal with, because those that don't have them can't be blamed for not understanding what it's like. Everyone who has them can remember how they felt before kids and after. (Fun factoid: if you didn't like other people's kids before you had children, you still don't after you do.) The change is phenomenal - one of the seminal ones in life, right up there with sex and (reportedly) combat. Therefore, we parents know that we've got the curb the little monsters when appropriate.
However, sometimes I'm kinda flustered by people who think they have a right to a childless environment. Every summer there are free concerts up at the park by my house. It is a perfect kid-friendly event. Most of the crowd is happy families grooving and throwing a Frisbee. But there's always a minority of childless couples who sit there with a scowl that intensifies if a kid wanders near their claimed territory. Again, I have sympathy, but these folks have got to get a grip and quit having their fun ruined because a kid might be too loud or, heaven forbid, spill some juice on their precious blanket.
I've always thought this sign displayed the best attitude:
(For honest and true, I began putting this together before M. Blowhard posted his series (great, as usual) on breeders vs. DINKs.)
In case you haven't heard, a mother, Kate Penland, and her baby (19 months) were kicked off a Continental flight this week because the baby kept saying "Bye-bye plane."
A baby repeating a phrase, which they do because they're LEARNING THE LANGUAGE, got them kicked off a flight.
A lot of hyperbole gets tossed around about indicators of the impending fall of the nation - we're Rome, we're gonna be forced to join a North American Union, gay marriage, etc. - but when the entire crew of an aircraft thinks that cute baby babble is a threat, you wonder if the horses of the apocalypse are stepping up to the chute.
Pilots are a pragmatic bunch by nature. (Coaxing tons of metal into the sky and back down safely again will do that to you.) So I'm surprised the conversation in the cockpit didn't go something like this:
Flight Attendant: "Captain, there's a child out there who keeps saying "bye bye plane" and the mother refuses to drug the child with benadryl, so we need to return to the gate."
The Captain tosses a look at the copilot, takes a quite breath and says: "Do you feel this behavior is endangering the flight?"
Flight Attendant: "It's driving me nuts!"
(After another pause) The Captain: "Why don't you borrow a dose of benadryl from the mother and strap into your little seat for a while?"
Now, we parents have an obligation not to subject folks to the extreme behaviors of our kids, but this kid wasn't really doing anything all that bad.
A recent article about this on Salon relates another horror story (edited to avoid getting in trouble):
Flying the child-unfriendly skies
Carol Lloyd
Jul. 13, 2007 |
[snip - this was the story I related above]
Bring on the child haters, the airline critics, the lazy parenting theorists! If you think this story sounds like an urban legend designed to foment sippy-cup culture wars, I don't blame you. I too would have found it difficult to swallow had I not experienced a similar treatment on an airline just last month. The details are tedious -- they involve me tapping the flight attendant on the shoulder trying to pass along some trash, him informing me he didn't appreciate "being touched," and me asking why he was being so rude. He then snarled at me: "Your children are totally out of control! If you'd just discipline them, you'd be much better off."
Granted, my kids often give an unfortunate impression given that they both look two years older than they are, but definitely act their age. In public situations, I've been known to whisper, hiss, threaten, cover a screaming mouth, and take away beloved privileges until I'm literally dripping with sweat. But this wasn't one of those occassions. When the flight attendant -- a young man who I assumed had no children -- told me off, both children were sitting absolutely silent, enraptured by a Hello Kitty DVD. [snip]
Once we switched flights to Lufthansa and a number of smiling, toy-bearing German flight attendants charmed the socks off my kids, I couldn't help thinking that it wasn't air travel but an American cultural divide about the place of children in society. The recent story about a woman who was kicked off a Delta flight for not covering her toddler's head with a blanket while breast-feeding offers more evidence of some weird attitudes toward children. The experience of Kate Penland vindicates this hunch. [snip] But for a certain child-free percentage of the population, ordinary kid behavior is so reprehensible as to warrant turning around flights and creating child-free restaurants.
Some anti-kid stuff you just gotta deal with, because those that don't have them can't be blamed for not understanding what it's like. Everyone who has them can remember how they felt before kids and after. (Fun factoid: if you didn't like other people's kids before you had children, you still don't after you do.) The change is phenomenal - one of the seminal ones in life, right up there with sex and (reportedly) combat. Therefore, we parents know that we've got the curb the little monsters when appropriate.
However, sometimes I'm kinda flustered by people who think they have a right to a childless environment. Every summer there are free concerts up at the park by my house. It is a perfect kid-friendly event. Most of the crowd is happy families grooving and throwing a Frisbee. But there's always a minority of childless couples who sit there with a scowl that intensifies if a kid wanders near their claimed territory. Again, I have sympathy, but these folks have got to get a grip and quit having their fun ruined because a kid might be too loud or, heaven forbid, spill some juice on their precious blanket.
I've always thought this sign displayed the best attitude:
Lilly Allen is a hoot
One of my recent guilty pleasures is Lilly Allen's CD, Alright, Still. I thought I'd like the hit "Smile," but assumed the rest would be dreck - typical of most chanteuse releases these days. (And she's pretty, which is always suspect, sadly.)
It's pretty funny, which is always a plus with me. It's mostly reggae, with some touches of ancient British pop, and a little rapping (which I tend to skip - just won't ever warm up to someone talking when they could be singing). It's all catchy, though.
And it passed the big test - I tend to hunt it down and slap in on the player. But only when the kids aren't around; it's about the bluest disc I have. (The primary topics are screwing and breakups.)
On a British game show recently, she revealed that she has a third nipple (and I do mean "revealed") - watch the vid below. (I've noticed I've tossed a parenthetical at the end of every paragraph so far, gotta be consistent.)
I hope this woman has a long career. She's fun.
One of my recent guilty pleasures is Lilly Allen's CD, Alright, Still. I thought I'd like the hit "Smile," but assumed the rest would be dreck - typical of most chanteuse releases these days. (And she's pretty, which is always suspect, sadly.)
It's pretty funny, which is always a plus with me. It's mostly reggae, with some touches of ancient British pop, and a little rapping (which I tend to skip - just won't ever warm up to someone talking when they could be singing). It's all catchy, though.
And it passed the big test - I tend to hunt it down and slap in on the player. But only when the kids aren't around; it's about the bluest disc I have. (The primary topics are screwing and breakups.)
On a British game show recently, she revealed that she has a third nipple (and I do mean "revealed") - watch the vid below. (I've noticed I've tossed a parenthetical at the end of every paragraph so far, gotta be consistent.)
I hope this woman has a long career. She's fun.
Tuesday, July 10, 2007
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.
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.
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.)
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