A Great Big Nerd

I've moved!

2009-07-10T19:02:00.002-06:00

Come check out my current spot on the web here! All archives have made the transition as well!

Stay Chrome-free

2008-09-03T18:37:00.004-06:00

I know there's a bit of irony in using my Blogger (by Google) blog to post this...

But here, from Charles Stross via Wil Wheaton is a good reason why you should stick with your Firefox and steer clear of the fancy new Google Chrome, direct from the Chrome EULA:

11. Content licence from you

11.1 You retain copyright and any other rights that you already hold in Content that you submit, post or display on or through the Services. By submitting, posting or displaying the content, you give Google a perpetual, irrevocable, worldwide, royalty-free and non-exclusive licence to reproduce, adapt, modify, translate, publish, publicly perform, publicly display and distribute any Content that you submit, post or display on or through the Services. This licence is for the sole purpose of enabling Google to display, distribute and promote the Services and may be revoked for certain Services as defined in the Additional Terms of those Services.

I'm not one to use emoticons, but sometimes, there's nothing you can do but :O

So basically, Google is saying, "Yeah, anything you do with Chrome, you retain copyright, but we get to do whatever we want with it, too." And apparently this is their EULA for GoogleDocs, too.

Yeah, I'll stick with my Firefox, thanks all the same.

In Which My Cat Presents Me With an Offering

2008-09-02T13:32:00.002-06:00

Pictured at left is eight feet and one ton of Feline, who goes by the always-appropriate moniker "Loki." Here, he's curled up and looking as cute as can be. But within this unassuming exterior hides oh so much more.

For several weeks, the cats were fascinated by the oven. They sat and stared at the gap between oven and floor for long periods. We figured they could hear some little noise the oven was making, some noise we couldn't perceive. I'd pulled the oven out not long ago to clean out months' worth of accumulated muck, and found nothing amiss - just dust bunnies and dessicated potato cubes and onion bits.

So, last week, I arrived home from a day of listening to Democrats shout about how awesome Democrats are and how much McCain Sucks (which is, of course, true, but is also beside the point). Loki, mysteriously, was not at the back door to greet me as he usually is. It was hot and I was tired. I stripped down to my shorts and laid down on the bed to read for a few minutes and probably take a nap. After a minute or two, Loki comes in and hops up on the bed. He likes to be near us when we're home; in the kitchen with us, on the couch with us, in the bed with us. This is not unusual. I greet him without looking up from my book.

Suddenly, Loki deposits something on my bare belly. It is a small gray mouse, smaller than my thumb, and it is almost but not quite dead, and it is twitching away its last handful of breaths in this world. This was not an accident. This was Loki proudly presenting to me his contribution to the household.

Now, I'm a Manly Man. I like football, I can open pickle jars and reach high shelves, I mow the lawn and I know the names of lots of different kinds of tools. And, Manly Man that I am, I refrained from screaming like a little girl at this point. But only just.

I did, however, shout, "Oh, my God!" and roll over to let gravity take the mouse from my bare belly to the bed. Loki was perhaps a bit nonplussed at my reaction to his offering, but it didn't last. He was playing with it again in moments, tossing it and batting it and watching it continue to twitch.

I called Mle and said that I'd figured out what the cats had been staring at under the oven. By the time I was off the phone with her, the mouse had stopped twitching. Though I knew Loki would feel cheated, I didn't really want him to eat the thing, so I picked it up and tossed it out into the back yard. I rewarded him instead with effusive praise and a handful of salmon-flavored kitty treats.

Loki spent several minutes looking for the mouse even after that.

Notes from the Fringes of the Circus

2008-08-27T17:05:00.003-06:00

Yes, the Circus came to town this week, and when I say "Circus," of course I mean "the Democratic National Convention," and when I compare the two, I do so as a proud registered Democrat and fervent supporter of the next President of the United States, Barack Obama. The oft-quoted words of Will Rogers ring as true today as ever: "I do not belong to any organized political party. I am a Democrat."

I was excited when Denver was named the host city for the 2008 DNC, thinking I might volunteer. Then I learned that the campus where I get edumacated was going to be closed down for the week of the convention. "Security reasons" are the stated cause of the closure, and it's no doubt true, as the campus is right next door to the Pepsi Center...but it also allowed the campus to make a few extra bucks by selling parking to conventioneers. Anyway, the convergence of the convention and a week free of other obligations meant that I could volunteer for sure.

For the past three days, I've been working as what they amusingly call a "Caucus Runner" at the Colorado Convention Center. It's amusing because a Caucus Runner does not run in the sense of administrating or organizing, nor in the sense of running to and fro or running errands. My job has basically been to stand there, be present in case something happens that swarms of police don't handle immediately, and to look handsome and dead sexy in my DNCC VOLUNTEER t-shirt. Standing quietly and looking good while doing it are things I've always been good at, so I suppose I'm rather well-suited to the job.

For those not in the know about just how a political convention works - which, I assume, is most of you - the big action happens, of course, at the primary site, the local sports arena (and in this year's case, for one night, the local football stadium). That's the Pepsi Center, affectionately referred to by sports columnists in the Post and the Rocky as "The Can," but mostly referred to by locals as the Pepsi Center. That's where the bigwigs make the speeches and the delegates wave signs and the TV talking heads muse about what it all means.

But during the day, leading up to all this, there's lots of smaller events going on. In the past, I'm told, this has always taken place at the area hotels, but due to the size of the event, this is happening at the Colorado Convention Center. The convention offices are all there, along with office space for interested parties like the AFL-CIO, the NAACP and all the other usual suspects. And there's the caucuses. This is basically where a bunch of people gather, make lots of speeches about how awesome the Democrats are, how awesome Barack is, and in some cases how awesome Hillary is. There's lots of applauding and back-patting and talk about how important it is to get out the vote and such.
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So on Monday, I performed my important duties in the Black Caucus. Howard Dean, who is about as white as anyone can be, made some opening remarks. Wellington Webb, the former Mayor of Denver, who is definitely not white, made further opening remarks. Both were briefly interrupted by protesters, both of whom jumped up to scream about how Obama's pro-choice stance was, in fact, support of "black genocide." The police were on both of them like white on rice inside ten seconds. Webb quipped, "See, that just shows you how much things have changed. Now, when we get together for a meeting, the police are on our side." It was really moving to watch this group of people, to whom Obama's candidacy is probably most meaningful, gather and make a show of their support. Great stuff.

Monday Celebrity Sighting: Tom Brokaw, not covering the convention, just signing books, looking relaxed and as tan as George Hamilton.

Better still was my post on Tuesday, in the Women's Caucus. I'd guess it was about 1,500 people there, more than a few wearing Hillary buttons and t-shirts and such. Donna Brazile made a great speech, as did Cecile Richards, daughter of former Texas governor Ann Richards and current president of Planned Parenthood. She had my favorite line of the day: "Women voting for John McCain is like chickens voting for Colonel Sanders."

After that, I was assigned to watching a door, making sure that people went out the exit door instead of the entrance door. Not exciting, and kind of frustrating when people - usually the people with the most different kinds of credentials on their lanyards - completely ignored me and did whatever the hell they felt like, 'cuz they were important and busy or something, I guess.

Tuesday Celebrity Sighting: Rosario Dawson, who briefly addressed the Women's Caucus in support of her organization, Vota Latina, which works to register latina women to vote. Ten times hotter in real life. Also, Eva Longoria, who was there with Rosario, and Fran Drescher.

Today, I was assigned to the Asian American & Pacific Islander Caucus. Not as large or quite as interesting as the others, but still pretty cool. Maya Soetoro-Ng, Obama's sister, spoke briefly about Obama's Hawai'ian background and sympathy with Asian/Pacific Islander causes and concerns. L.A. Mayor Antonio Villaraigosa spoke as well, and was pretty darn good.

Wednesday Celebrity Sighting: Kelly Hu - Lady Deathstrike from X2 - made a brief appearance at the caucus. Like Rosario Dawson, absolutely smokin' hot.

And of course...it wouldn't be the Circus without the sideshow. Here's a bit of the scene outside the convention center:

Doesn't [Candidate] Care How He's Hurting Working Families?

2008-08-20T11:04:00.002-06:00

In between the segments of the talking heads babbling about Michael Phelps and the lingering shots of Shawn Johnson grinning perkily and waving, you get the campaign commercials. And what is practically every campaign commercial about this year? Gas prices. Usually, it's the Republicans - smelling a wedge issue to get their base, Stupid People, into the voting booths with their usual aplomb - saying something along the lines of, "[Democratic Candidate] just doesn't care if gas prices go up to five or even six dollars a gallon - he even voted against new laws that would allow for [name of absurd and idiotic oil exploration plan that won't, in reality, lower gas prices a plugged nickel]. Doesn't [Democratic Candidate] even realize how much he's hurting working families?"

This has, somehow, unbelievably, become the number one issue in the 2008 campaign. Gas prices. American voters care more about paying less to fill their SUVs than they do about ending the war in Iraq, improving the health care system, creating real and reliable sources of renewable energy, improving public education, or anything else. The price of gasoline is more important than all of these.

This is mind-boggling, and simply proves to me that the American public is every bit as stupid as I've always suspected.

Look, y'all, John McCain can bleat "Drill here, drill now!" as much as he likes. The fact is the experts, people who actually understand the economic realities of the situation - and yes, Stupid People, like it or not, there is still such a thing as expert opinion in the world - say that drilling offshore or drilling in ANWR or drilling on top of Mount Goddamn Rushmore won't have any meaningful impact on the price at the pump. That's just the way it is.*

But let's imagine that John McCain bleats his way to the White House on the back of "Drill here, drill now!" and he gets his way and we drill here and drill now. And let's say that somehow, a miracle happens, and through some sort of magic, there's ten times as much oil as even the most optimistic predictions say. The oil flows, the price at the pump comes down, and we're all paying $1.50 a gallon again.

That's great, right?

Sure...for as long as the oil lasts.

The plain and simple fact of the matter is that there is a finite supply of petroleum in the world, and they're not making it anymore. Demand is increasing while supply dwindles. That is a fact, and it is indisputable.

So does it not make sense - given that it is inevitable that we will run out of petroleum (and therefore gasoline, Stupid People, which is made from petroleum) - that we should be thinking more about finding better ways of powering our modern industrial society, and thinking about ways we can use less gasoline than we do now, than to wring our hands and accuse the other candidate of not caring about how high gas prices are affecting working families?

Nope, nope, nope, of course not. Not when you've got a wedge issue and a huge bloc of Incredibly Stupid Voters who think that the gubmint is even capable of lowering the price of gasoline.

* - I should mention, in fairness, that certain Democrats' "plan" of releasing a portion of the Strategic Petroleum Reserve is equally boneheaded and pointless, as it will have roughly the same effect - i.e., nil - on gas prices.

Food Meme!

2008-08-14T14:10:00.004-06:00

I like food, and I like easy blog posts, so here's a bit from the food blog Very Good Taste.

The rules are pretty standard:
A. List of 100 items
B. Bold items you've eaten
C. Cross out items you'd never consider eating

1. Venison
2. Nettle tea
3. Huevos rancheros - I make a rather good version of huevos at home. Come visit, I'll cook them for you.
4. ~~Steak tartare~~ - I like rare beef, but raw is a bit much, thanks.
5. Crocodile
6. Black pudding - I would try it, though I doubt I'd wolf it down.
7. Cheese fondue
8. Carp
9. Borscht
10. Baba ghanoush
11. Calamari - C'mon, who hasn't eaten calamari?
12. Pho - Denver has a pretty large Vietnamese immigrant population, and several very good pho places.
13. PB&J sandwich
14. Aloo gobi
15. Hot dog from a street cart
16. Epoisses
17. Black truffle
18. Fruit wine made from something other than grapes
19. Steamed pork buns
20. Pistachio ice cream
21. Heirloom tomatoes
22. Fresh wild berries
23. Foie gras
24. Rice and beans - Another favorite and a personal specialty, either New Orleans-style red beans or Caribbean-style black beans.
25. Brawn, or head cheese
26. ~~Raw Scotch Bonnet pepper~~ - I like spicy, but that's just crazy.
27. Dulce de leche
28. Oysters
29. Baklava - One of Mle's very favorite desserts, and therefore one of mine.
30. Bagna cauda
31. Wasabi peas
32. Clam chowder in a sourdough bowl
33. Salted lassi
34. Sauerkraut
35. Root beer float
36. Cognac with a fat cigar - Well, I didn't eat the cigar, I used it in the recommended manner.
37. Clotted cream tea
38. Vodka jelly/Jell-O - I'm assuming this means that college-party staple, Jell-O shooters
39. Gumbo - Yet another personal specialty, as Leah and Simon may recall.
40. Oxtail
41. Curried goat
42. Whole insects - Skewered and deep fried at a night market in Beijing. Beetles are sour, Grasshoppers taste a little like chicken.
43. Phaal
44. Goat’s milk
45. Malt whisky from a bottle worth £60/$120 or more
46. Fugu
47. Chicken tikka masala
48. Eel
49. Krispy Kreme original glazed doughnut
50. Sea urchin - I don't think I've ever had sea urchin, but I've had sea urchin roe. Does this count?
51. Prickly pear
52. Umeboshi
53. Abalone
54. Paneer
55. McDonald’s Big Mac Meal
56. Spaetzle
57. Dirty gin martini
58. Beer above 8% ABV
59. Poutine
60. ~~Carob chips~~ - I've had them, and learned that there's just no reason to eat fake chocolate.
61. S’mores
62. Sweetbreads
63. Kaolin
64. Currywurst
65. Durian
66. Frogs’ legs
67. Beignets, churros, elephant ears or funnel cake
68. Haggis
69. Fried plantain
70. Chitterlings, or andouillette
71. Gazpacho
72. Caviar and blini
73. Louche absinthe - Um, I've had absinthe. Is that the same thing?
74. Gjetost, or brunost
75. ~~Roadkill~~
76. Baijiu
77. Hostess Fruit Pie - Me and every Marvel and DC superhero in the 1970s.
78. Snail
79. Lapsang souchong
80. Bellini
81. Tom yum
82. Eggs Benedict
83. Pocky
84. Tasting menu at a three-Michelin-star restaurant.
85. Kobe beef
86. Hare
87. Goulash
88. Flowers
89. ~~Horse~~ - Not unless I were starving to death.
90. Criollo chocolate
91. Spam - Dirty little secret: I actually like Spam.
92. Soft shell crab
93. Rose harissa
94. Catfish
95. Mole poblano
96. Bagel and lox
97. Lobster Thermidor
98. Polenta
99. Jamaican Blue Mountain coffee
100. Snake - Rattlesnake, to be precise.

The Science of Magic

2008-08-12T18:05:00.001-06:00

Great stuff from the New York Times about what magic - both stage and close-up - can teach scientists about cognition and perception. Check it out.

Diarrhea of the Mouth

2008-08-12T12:37:00.002-06:00

My Dad always used to say about the Monday Night Football broadcast team - whether it was Howard Cosell and Don Meredith or Frank Gifford and the always-inane Dan Fouts - that they had diarrhea of the mouth.

I think NBC has discovered the all-time greatest, most chronic cases and put them together in a booth in Beijing. Of course, they did this in Sydney and Athens, too. I'm talking about the Olympic Gymnastics commentators, Al Trautwig, Tim Dagget and Elfi Schlegel ("Elfi?" Seriously?). This may be the worst team assembled to cover any sport in the history of televised sports.

Dagget and Schlegel are the analysts, both former gymnasts. Where they consistently and utterly fail as broadcasters is that it doesn't seem to occur to them that 95% of the population of the United States actually watches and cares about gymnastics only once every four years at best. They never offer any real insight, or really explain what's going on. I'd like to know what I'm supposed to be looking for as I watch the routines. The only real idea I have about whether a given gymnast has done well or not is the always-crucial sticking of the landing. All we ever get from Dagget and Elfi is, "Now here comes a big move...oh! Incredible!" or "Now, that was a mistake, and that's going to cost him!" Unless the mistake is completely obvious to the untrained observer, there's no way to know what the mistake was. Dagget and Elfi know, and the judges know, and the gymnasts know...but us laymen out here in TV land, we have no clue. All we know is that whatever happened, according to Dagget and Elfi, it was a mistake, and it's going to cost him. Great. Rather than educating or explaining, they assume that we're on the same level of knowledge as them. When I watch football, I don't need the commentators to explain what "holding" is or what makes an illegal forward pass or why the team is celebrating because they just carried the ball into the end zone. But I've spent four months of every year since I was 10 watching football. I've probably seen hundreds of football games in my life. I spend two weeks every four years being moderately interested in gymnastics, and having someone explain the rules to me at those times would be nice.

Of course, Dagget and Elfi are Al Goddamn Michaels compared to Big Al Trautwig. The guy just can't stand more than a nanosecond of silence. Anytime Dagget and Elfi aren't saying, "Oh, that was amazing! You can see why he's considered one of the greats!", Trautwig is just babbling, filling the silences without any consideration of the meaning or intelligence of his comments. No filter between brain and mouth. Just babbling. Not really commenting on anything, not making any real conversation with anyone, not saying anything meaningful, just filling the silence. Babbling.

Last night, as the final Chinese gymnast was dismounting the high bar and the celebration of China's gold medal was beginning, Trautwig burst out with, "There's a new China Syndrome and it's China Gold!" Uh...wait, what? Al, what in the name of JESUS H. TAPDANCING CHRIST does that even mean? Were you just trying desperately to come up with a familiar phrase with the word "China" in it? And you came up with "China Syndrome?" An American phrase referring to a severe meltdown at a nuclear power plant? "There's a new China Syndrome and it's China Gold!" You couldn't just say, "The crowd is going crazy as the Chinese team celebrates their gold medal triumph"? Not the most exciting turn of phrase, to be sure, but it has the virtues of making sense and actually meaning something, so it would be a start.

I know that ever since 1980, Olympic broadcasters have been trying to come up with something as memorable and iconic as Michaels' "Do you believe in miracles? YES!" But Al, "There's a new China Syndrome and it's China Gold!" ain't it.

USA! USA! USA! USA!

2008-08-11T10:53:00.004-06:00

Who here saw the Men's 4x100 Freestyle Relay last night? Show of hands.

Watching the swimmin' last night, I have to admit, I was getting pretty sick of Dan Hicks and Rowdy Gaines ("Rowdy?" Seriously?) babbling on and on about Michael Phelps when he wasn't even in the pool. They were babbling about him during women's races where there wasn't even an American in the pool, much less the subject of their adulation.

I understand that they want to promote him, that he's one of the big stars of the '08 Games, and I understand that he's got the potential to do something pretty amazing and historic. But you know, all those other swimmers worked their asses off, too, and hearing the commentators discuss the action actually occurring in the pool might be nice, y'know?

Despite that, I would love to see Phelps succeed in his quest. He seems in his interviews like a pretty nice, humble guy. A lot of people equate "competitive" with arrogant these days - but they're not the same thing. Yeah, Phelps has a competitive streak a mile wide. But he's never said anything to indicate that he thinks he deserves to win, or that a failure to win would be some sort of cosmic injustice. And to watch someone that good in his prime doing his thing...well, it's pretty awesome.

And goddamn but that was an exciting race. Maybe the most exciting single bit of Olympics I've ever seen (given that I wasn't even 3 years old for the Miracle on Ice in 1980). And best of all, it was broadcast (nearly) live, so I hadn't had the results spoiled by other news sources when I watched it.

I know that the thing to say is that you're not much of a partisan when it comes to the Olympics, that it's great to see so many great athletes from all nations doing well, that you don't really care about the Medal Count and all that...but I call bullshit. I want to see the USA win. And it's even better on those rare occasions when we're actually underdogs.

Two MinutesThirty Seconds Hate

2008-08-06T16:04:00.003-06:00

John McCain's campaign ads have been pretty dumb right from the start. I was kind of dumbfounded by his recent ad that began with '60s-era stock footage, rambling about the Summer of Love and then reminding us that John McCain was a POW in Vietnam, reassuring us that McCain wasn't one of those dirty hippies (which creates the rather odd implication that McCain is accusing Obama, who turned 8 in 1969, of being a dirty hippie). I was further appalled by his next ad, which pretty much directly accused Barack Obama of being personally responsible for rising gas prices and touting ~~Bush's~~ McCain's sole - and utterly fucking useless, by the way - "solution" to the energy crisis, more drilling.

But the McCain campaign has really gone completely around the bend this time, from "ordinary (if slightly off-kilter) political mudslinging" to "total batshit insanity." Have you seen this thing? I can't find an embeddable version of the ad all by itself anywhere - you can go see it at McCain's website, here: DUMBEST POLITICAL AD IN HISTORY (Fair Warning: Viewing this ad is almost guaranteed to make you throw up in your mouth a little).

You've probably seen it, though - or at least heard about it. In it, the McCain campaign manages to keep a straight face and earnestly compare Barack Obama to Britney Spears and Paris Hilton.

Just when I thought McCain couldn't create a stupider ad, couldn't do anything to make their man more unappealing to me...they go and do this. Nice work, McCain Crew. You've officially created the DUMBEST POLITICAL AD IN HISTORY. Watching this for the first time, you think it must be an unauthorized ad from some lunatic-fringe 527 group. Surely the fine political minds at the McCain campaign couldn't actually create THE DUMBEST POLITICAL AD IN HISTORY themselves, right? But then, at the end, the obligatory, "I'm John McCain, and I approved this message."

Is the McCain campaign even interested in having any voter under the age of 90 vote for their man? Does their entire campaign really amount to "Those damn kids today!"? Well, honestly, I kind of hope so. But...really, John? "Don't vote for Obama because he's popular, just like those tramps what with the drinking and the sex and the walking around in public without any drawers on! And get the hell off my lawn!"

Possible upcoming McCain ads:

"Barack Obama isn't even bothered by those damn kids today who wear their pants all sagged around their knees!"

"Barack Obama wants to let kids climb your fence and trample your garden to get their damn ball back, even though this is the fifth or sixth time it's come over your fence, what's the matter with them, anyway?"

"Barack Obama doesn't support legislation to prohibit anyone but sailors, motorcycle gangs and others of low moral fiber from getting tattoos!"

"Barack Obama doesn't even remember back when you could go to the movies for a nickel, and that included popcorn and a Coke!"

"Barack Obama listens to that rap stuff, it's not even really music, what happened to real music, anyway?"

"Barack Obama wants to let the damn kids today play video games on a perfectly beautiful afternoon instead of going out and getting some fresh air and sunshine!"

And maybe it's just me - honestly, I hope it's just me, because I'd like to think that even the Republican party has risen above this twenty years later - but it seems to me that the McCain ads are pulling a Willie Horton, darkening the images of Obama they're using to make him look "blacker."

I mean, it's not like I was ever going to vote for McCain. But the more ads he puts out, the more I go from indifference to dislike to actively despising him.

A Marvelous Weekend, Indexed

2008-08-05T15:39:00.007-06:00

Is it a rip-off of Harper's Index, or a rip-off of the now-ubiquitous Harper's Index rip-off blog post? Only your hairdresser knows for sure.

---

Minutes it Took to Eat an Entire Spicy Tuna Roll and Drink 1.5 Liters of Water After Getting off My Flight on Wednesday Night: >5

Bachelor/ette Parties Attended: 2 (1 each for myself and my better half)

Hours Spent Driving Round-trip to and from Milpitas to See a Movie I've Already Seen: 2.33

Approximate Awesomeness Quotient of The Dark Knight, Even The Second Time Around: 1,000,000,000

Approximate Level of Gladness on My Part That the Bachelorette Party Involved a Screening of Mamma Mia!, Thus Freeing Me From Ever, Ever Having to See It: 1,000,000,000

Tickets Won at Skee-Ball at Dave & Buster's After the Movie: 82

Number of Items That Can Be Purchased for 82 or Fewer Tickets at the Dave & Buster's Redemption Center: 0

Rehearsal Dinners Made/Hosted: 1

Hours Spent on Friday Prepping for Rehearsal Dinner: 6

Hours of Prep Time Devoted to Travel: 1.5

Of Travel Time, Approximate Ratio of Time Required to Get From Cousin's Place in the Outer Richmond to the Bay Bridge as compared to Time Required to Get From Bay Bridge to CostCo: 3:1*

Number of Distinct Dishes Prepared for Rehearsal Dinner: 6 (plus a potato salad from another contributor)

Guests Fed at Rehearsal Dinner: 26

Servings Left Over at Conclusion of Rehearsal Dinner, Taken Back as Promised to A Girl and a Boy, Whose Kitchen We Used for Prep Work: 2

Size of Serving I Was Able to Acquire by Scraping Dregs of Giant Bowl of Guacamole, Since I Was Last in Buffet Line: 1 Tsp.

Weddings Attended: 1

Approximate Percentage of Guests at Wedding That Danced, In Spite of Repeated Exhoratations: 15

Percentage of Guests Who Took Godzilla vs. Sumo Wrestler Photos at Wedding for Inclusion in Guestbook: 90

Percentage of Pages Used by Guests In Hand-made Guestbook Over Which Maker Toiled For Quite Some Time to Make it Large Enough for Everyone to Have Their Own Page: 25

Number of Times a Slightly Inebriated Mle Gave Me Directions as We Drove Back to Leah and Simon's House After The Wedding: 7

Number of Times This Was Followed by Me Saying, "I know.": 7

Number of Large Round Table Pizzas Personally Consumed by Myself at the After Party: .75

Approximate Air Temperature At the Time When Leah Could Not Believe I Was Getting in the Swimming Pool Because it Was "So Cold": 70° F

Approximate Air Temperature At the Time When Leah and Mle Both Became Concerned for My Health and Sanity When I Got Out of the Pool Because it Was "So Cold": 67° F

Number of Great Times Had by Guests at Various Wedding-Related Events: At least 2, probably more, though I can't speak for anyone but myself and Mle.

* Seriously, I'm sure there was a quicker and smarter way to get to the Bridge from where we spent the night, but my San Francisco geography is largely limited to well-known landmarks and a few major streets, and thus far too much time was spent driving through The City.

Holy That Was Awesome But Kind of Depressing, Batman!

2008-07-25T12:38:00.005-06:00

So, yeah, what can I say about The Dark Knight that the whole world hasn't said already? Well, I'll give it a go.

Heath Ledger is, of course, mind-blowingly awesome and terrifying as the Joker - a force of pure chaos and a reminder why, in the hands of good writers, the Joker really works as Batman's arch-enemy. Every kid growing up in post-Baby Boom America has some creature from television or the movies that becomes their own personal boogeyman. I had a few nightmares about being turned into a blueberry after a probably-too-young-for-it viewing of Willy Wonka and the Chocolate Factory. For Mle, it was Gollum from the Rankin-Bass animated version of The Hobbit, and for her sister it was the wolf from The Never-Ending Story. I pity the kids whose parents took them to The Dark Knight, because all of those things are incredibly tame compared to the weeks of nightmares these kids are in for about Heath Ledger's Joker. I don't pity the parents who will be awakened in the middle of the night by their children's nightmares, because, well, you've got to be insane to take your five-year-old to a PG-13-rated movie that's been getting the word-of-mouth about being dark and scary that this one has. Enjoy those late nights, thoughtless parents!

Christian Bale solidifies his place as not just one of many guys who have played Batman, but THE Batman. He hits all the right notes as both Bruce Wayne and Batman. Admittedly, it's not exactly the hardest title to earn when the previous contender for the title is wee, tiny, nebbishy Michael Keaton - but the poor schnook who next tries to play Batman after Bale's done with the role is going to learn what George Lazenby felt like trying to take over as James Bond after Sean Connery.

I'd like to be able to say that Maggie Gyllenhaal is a vast improvement over Katie Holmes in the role of Rachel Dawes, Batman's ostensible love interest. But, fine an actress as she is, she's not given anything to do, and spends her few brief scenes looking bored. It doesn't help that the costume department has her constantly dressed in dowdy old-lady clothes, which, combined with spectacularly unflattering lighting and makeup, make her look like she's about sixty-five years old.

Director Christopher Nolan is a master of character and mood, but, just as with Batman Begins, can't shoot a decent fight scene to save his life. It's not as big a flaw here as it was in Begins - as Dark Knight lacks the earlier film's emphasis on Batman's training and prowess as a martial artist. But still - c'mon, Chris. A fight scene should be extensively choreographed, just like a dance scene. You wouldn't cut a Gene Kelly or Fred Astaire dance scene with a million little frenetic half-second-long shots; why do you do it with a Batman fight scene? Part of the point of a Batman movie is to see that comic-book-style action come to life - to watch how Batman single-handedly dismantles an army of thugs or an entire SWAT team. Why deny us that with the annoying, unsettling million-cuts-and-shaky-handheld-camera style you've chosen?

Apart from that flaw - which is major but forgivable - this is damn near a perfect Batman movie. Dark and moody enough to make the black-hearted Batman Returns look like the Care Bears, but still not without a bit of humor, plenty of style and lots of excitement. Bravo to all involved.

Also - the biggest buzz in the geek-world aside from the awesomeness of Heath Ledger is the Watchmen trailer in front of the movie. I have to say, it looks pretty good, better than I thought it would - but I'm still pretty "meh" overall about the whole thing. Maybe the movie will be good, but I still don't see the need for Watchmen to be a movie in the first place.

Not Dead

2008-07-23T12:59:00.002-06:00

OLD MAN:
I am not dead yet
I can dance and I can sing
I am not dead yet
I can do the Highland Fling

I am not dead yet
No need to go to bed
No need to call the doctor
Cause I'm not yet dead.

BODIES:
He is not yet dead
That's what the geezer said
No, he's not yet dead
That man is off his head

He is not yet dead
So put him back in bed
Keep him off the cart because he's not yet dead.

Eep Opp Ork Ah-Ah*

2008-07-03T14:42:00.003-06:00

I like soup.
And I like ice cream sandwiches, too.
I like fishsticks.
But I love you.

- Barenaked Ladies, "I Love You"

Happy (Not Wedding) Anniversary, Mle. Every day makes me happier that I posted my Yahoo Messenger ID in that message board thread way back in the spring of 2001, and even happier that I didn't just ignore that first IM you sent, and even happier still (in a way) that you were in a crappy job where you had nothing better to do than spend all day chatting on-line with some random pizza-slingin' weirdo from the armpit of Colorado, and even more happier still that I was some random pizza-slingin' weirdo who worked nights and so had nothing better to do between English Lit and said slingin' than chat on-line with some random neo-hippie girl from Berkeley. And even more more happier still that...well, you get the idea.

Thanks for seven great years, and thanks in advance for all the years to come.

*That means "I love you."

I Am Both Stirred and Shaken

2008-07-01T15:09:00.001-06:00

Casino Royale was easily the best Bond movie at least since The Spy Who Loved Me, Roger Moore's unquestioned high point as 007*...and probably since On Her Majesty's Secret Service.

This, despite the clunky title (and yes, I do know that it's taken from an honest-to-god Ian Fleming Bond story), this trailer makes Quantum of Solace look like it just might be even better.

* Not that there's a lot of competition for this title, as many of Moore's 007 outings are entirely unwatchable, even to Bond fans.

Domo Ariagato, Mr. Roboto

2008-06-26T13:55:00.003-06:00

I'll tell you right off the bat what I like about Pixar - whilst all the other CGI animation houses out there (as if there's any other kind anymore) are busy cranking out one Talking Animal Picture after another, those fine Emeryvillains just keep trying new things. I wasn't the biggest fan of Cars, but it had the virtue of being something different. And while, yes, last year's Ratatouille did, indeed, feature talking animals, you have to admit that it was a Talking Animal Picture of a very unconventional sort. While the other studios are busy with crap like Kung Fu Panda and Space Chimps, Pixar's out there taking risks. I mean, you've got a lot of virtuoso filmmaking to do if you want to make the idea of rats in a kitchen appealing rather than repulsive. But on the other hand, you can make an animated rat pretty cute, and the target audience - kids - have a pretty natural empathy with animals (thus, the glut of T.A.P.s, but I digress). So it's a risk, but not necessarily a huge one. On the other hand...

Let's say you're pitching a movie, and you're not Pixar, and the chief of the studio you're pitching to isn't John Lasseter. So you say, "Okay, the basic idea of the movie is that it's about a robot left behind on Earth to clean up after the human race has turned the whole planet into a landfill and abandoned it, and the robot is lonely until a girl robot comes along - and before you ask, no she's not a sexy humanoid-ish kind of robot with rivets on her ro-boobs where the nipples would be, she's kind of just a flying egg with wings. Anyway, the clean-up robot is obsessed with a Barbara Streisand musical, but he's straight anyway, and he falls in love with the flying egg girl robot. There's almost no dialogue in the movie, the only songs are going to be from that aforementioned Barbara Streisand musical, and the whole thing is pretty much a satirical take on modern consumer culture. Whaddaya think, boss?"

Few studios would go for it, I think - the pitch doesn't exactly scream "big summertime commerical hit." But the Pixar crew loves taking risks, and thus, WALL-E.

Roger Ebert has a short list of movies he describes as out-of-body experiences. The theater disappears, the smell of popcorn fades and the rest of the audience vanishes. The movie is real, and happening, and the real world doesn't exist for the duration of the movie's running time. WALL-E worked like that for me. The sneak preview crowd, noisy and filled with children raised on home video who have no understanding of the manners of going to a movie as it was, simply vanished, and the world the movie created was the only one that existed for 90 minutes or so.

The movie drew me in instantly, with a beautiful starscape and the opening lines of "Put on Your Sunday Clothes" from the 1969 film version of Hello, Dolly! I laughed, amused by the odd musical choice. Within moments, though, I understood it, as it became clear that this was not merely soundtrack but source music. WALL-E is listening to it as he works, creating tiny cubes of garbage and stacking them into enormous, horrifying and yet oddly beautiful towers, each the same size as the skyscrapers in the inundated city in which he works.

It is after the arrival of EVE - the flying egg girl robot - and her subsequent departure back to the mother ship (followed by WALL-E) that the movie really kicks into high gear. Wall-E encounters the remnants of humanity aboard the Axiom, in which the species originally fled from their own mess, and what a sorry lot we've become. People are shapeless, blubbery masses, drifting around the ship on floating chaise lounges, communicating exclusively through video screens, accomplishing everything they do by pushing buttons that activate robots, and consuming all sustenance through a straw ("Don't forget to get your complimentary cupcake in a cup," the captain announces in commemoration of the 700th anniversary of the 5-year cruise). Everywhere the passengers look (if they glance up from their video screens), they are surrounded by advertising. The job of the ship's captain is primarily to listen to the ship's computer's daily status report and make the daily announcements to the passengers.

Every moment of this movie is simply beautiful to behold. Pixar's movies have always been visual delights, but here, they've completely outdone themselves. Every corner of every frame contains something to look at. The garbage mountains are astounding, the starship is breathtaking. Every moment of running time, right down to the end credits, is a visual feast.

WALL-E himself is a strikingly charismatic and appealing lead. In visual terms, he owes a little something to the robot from Short Circuit - my dad, who clearly doesn't have the same memory I do for important information like terrible mid-'80s Steve Gutenberg/Ally Sheedy comedies, thought from seeing the ads that it was meant to be the same character. In terms of action and personality, well, I just can't imagine the hours the animators must have spent studying the films of Charlie Chaplin and Buster Keaton. For they, rather than "Johnny Five," are clearly the true inspiration for WALL-E. His face, such as it is, is at once impassive and yet oddly expressive, much like Keaton's. He explores the comedic possibilities of every prop he comes across, much like Chaplin. And like the great silent film comedians, he's escapes by the skin of his proverbial teeth in ever-mounting peril, against an entire world that's bigger and meaner than he is.

There is, of course, no small irony in a giant mega-corporation like Disney releasing this movie, with its wry take on giant mega-corporations (a conglomerate known as ~~Wal-Mart~~ Buy-n-Large is primarily responsible for both the trashing of the Earth and the sorry state of humanity). There is also no small irony in the certainty that this summer blockbuster, with its appealing robot characters just screaming to be turned into Happy Meal toys, is certain to be heavily licensed and merchandized, unleashing another tidal wave of cheap plastic crap onto the world. But maybe, just maybe, a few smart kids out there will see this movie, understand it, and just maybe decide not to scream to Mom about how they just neeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeed the fully-articulated WALL-E action figure on the family's next trip to Buy-n-Large.

Indiana Jones and the Peril of the Insane Fanboys

2008-06-05T11:13:00.006-06:00

It was bound to happen, really.

I mean, when they announced Indy 4, you could practically feel the electric glee emanating from that certain class of Fanboy across the internet. You know the kind I mean - the ones who, once Revenge of the Sith had come and gone back in 2005, figured they would never again have the opportunity to type "George Lucas raped my childhood!" again. And then there was Indy 4.

I've read more than a few negative reviews of Kingdom of the Crystal Skull over the last couple of weeks. And of course, people are perfectly entitled to like or dislike the movie. It is, as I observed, certainly the weakest of the cinematic adventures of the good Dr. Jones.

But there is a certain class of movie-goer - the Fanboy - who works by an entirely different set of rules. To the Fanboy, there are only two kinds of movies - The Best Movie Ever (which almost never happens) and Absolute Garbage. And if it's Absolute Garbage, well...if it weren't bad enough that it's a bad movie, that also makes it "an Insult to the Fans," which is (in the eyes of the Fanboy) the worst offense any creative type can commit. I suspect that many of the Fanboys went in - put down their $10, no less - not only expecting but hoping to dislike the movie, because it would give them something to bitch and moan about on their message board of choice, and one more opportunity to recite the Fanboy Mantra, "George Lucas raped my childhood."

The most frequent refrain I've heard in the negativity surrounding Crystal Skull has to do with the scene wherein Shia LaBeouf's character pulls a trick out of Tarzan's book, swinging through the jungle on vines, surrounded by monkeys.

This is the moment that exemplifies what makes this movie terrible, I guess. This is where it lost those last few Fanboys who were still hanging in there. Because...well, I'm not sure why. Because it's implausible? Because it's unbelievable? Because it makes them think of Tarzan? I don't know.

In my original review, I mentioned a couple of things about the opening of Raiders of the Lost Ark. Let's go back and take a look at that scene again, shall we?

So Indy and Crew make their way to some sort of hidden, ancient temple. As Indy and Dr. Octopus make their way into the temple's depths, Indy says, "Stop. Stay out of the light!" Confirming his suspicion, Indy sticks his hand into the shaft of sunlight that illuminates the temple's gloomy interior. Instantly, deadly spikes pop out of the wall, which would have impaled them if they had blindly entered that shaft of light. That's right...the ancient Incas (or whoever) constructed a death trap that was triggered by entering the shaft of light. This is followed, of course, by Indy accidentally triggering the trap when he removes the idol from the altar (and of course, we all remember from school when we learned about the Incas' ingenious counterweight-triggered death traps, right?), leading to him being chased out of the tunnel by a giant, perfectly spherical boulder ten feet in diameter.

So...Mutt pulling a Tarzan stretches the bounds of plausibility...but the very first appearance of Indiana Jones does not?

Everyone's also complaining about Indy escaping from a nuclear blast by climbing into a lead-lined refrigerator. Admittedly, at any of a half-dozen or so given points in that sequence, Indy ought to be dead. But he also survived the Ark of the Covenant's destruction of the Nazis not out of any special virtue or holiness or divine protection...but because he kept his eyes closed. Indy should be dead a hundred times over during the course of the first three movies...but he always manages to survive. That's kind of the point. To me, half the fun is the absurd ways he manages to survive the unsurvivable. Sit back, put yourself in the right mindset, and go with the flow.

That's the thing about the Fanboy. He's absolutely unable to even detect the flow, much less go with it. A Fanboy of my acquaintance was the type who couldn't stand The Lord of the Rings movies because they'd replaced Glorfindel with Arwen and cut out Tom Bombadil and the adventure with the Barrow-wights. Some friends were discussing the Revenge of the Sith trailer, thinking that it looked pretty good, and his sole contribution to the discussion was, "Oh, it's just going to be so insulting if this one is good!" Yes, because nothing is so insulting as a good movie.

The Fanboy can only nitpick. The Fanboy can only see Spider-Man and complain about organic web-shooters. The Fanboy can only see X-Men and complain that Wolverine and Storm weren't original members of the team. The Fanboy can only see Transformers and complain that Optimus Prime transforms into the wrong kind of truck. The Fanboy wears Rose Colored Glasses, remembering Star Wars and Raiders of the Lost Ark as he first saw them, as a credulous child - but he's incapable of seeing Revenge of the Sith and Crystal Skull in the same way, because he's a jaded quasi-adult now. The Fanboy feels that anything that doesn't live up to his impossible standards isn't just bad - it's a personal slight.

No, I'm not trying to convince anyone who disliked Crystal Skull that they're wrong. I'm just saying that saying it's a bad movie for the reasons that the Fanboys are claiming without subjecting Raiders, or Temple of Doom, or Last Crusade to those same standards is insane. It's not so much that the Fanboy can't see the forest for the trees as that he can't see the trees for the pinecones, and is entirely unaware of the concept of the forest.

Or maybe he's just ignoring the forest because it's got Shia LaBeouf swinging through it on a vine.

Hopefully

2008-06-04T12:39:00.002-06:00

Finally!

Hopefully, this means that we don't have to hear Hillary put her foot in her mouth one more time speculating about just when and where Obama might be assassinated.

Hopefully, this means that we don't have to hear another word about all the poor, "disenfranchised" voters in Florida and Michigan who got screwed over by their state parties.

Hopefully, this means that we don't have to hear more whining from Hillary supporters about how the only reason Hillary could possibly be losing is blatant, unremitting sexism.

Hopefully, this means that we don't have to have our fond memories of Bill Clinton tarnished any further by his role as Hillary's snarling campaign attack dog.

Hopefully, this means that it is time to stop talking about the absurd idea that being First Lady somehow gives one lots of vital experience for the role of president and imaginary Bosnian snipers.

Hopefully, this means that it is time to get down to business, and spend the next 22 weeks reminding the country that John McCain is the wrong man for the job.

Hopefully, this means that it is time to start talking about the fact that it doesn't matter how old John McCain is, only that he's running on a platform of more of the same old shit from the last eight years that got us into the mess we're in in the first place.

Hopefully, this means that we're about to enter a new era of discussing problems instead of ignoring them, creating real solutions instead of fantasies with Orwellian doublespeak names, of acknowledging and appreciating our differences instead of accusing anyone who dares to disagree of "hating America" and being "with th' Tara-rists" and then waving our miniature American flags.

Hopefully.

Keeping Up With the Joneses

2008-05-25T15:12:00.003-06:00

Back in December of 2006, when George Lucas announced that Indiana Jones and the Kingdom of the Crystal Skull was going into production, I wrote, "Still, 'Hopes High, Expectations Low,' that's my motto. I hope it's great, every bit the equal of Raiders, or at the very least the equal of Last Crusade, and I'm excited about seeing it based on my hopes. But I don't expect much from it at all. If it meets my hopes, great. If it meets my expectations, too bad, but at least I'm not disappointed."

I went in with high hopes, and higher expectations than I really meant to. I was not disappointed. Is it the equal of Raiders? Certainly not, but what could be? Is it the equal of Last Crusade? Probably not. It's safe to say that it's the weakest of the Indiana Jones movies - but that doesn't mean it's a bad movie by any means. In fact, I thought it was pretty damn good. It hits all the right notes and very few wrong ones. There are great chases, narrow escapes, improbable fights, and all the stuff you want from an Indiana Jones movie.

For the most part, this movie sort of defies review. It's not like any of the previous movies had much intellectual content or emotional weight. The most heart any of them ever showed was the father/son stuff in Last Crusade. Crystal Skull tries to earn a few easy points with a few mentions of Sean Connery's character - but that's about it. Really, any review of an Indiana Jones movie has to come down to whether or not the action set-pieces work or not. And, well, they do, quite well.

Cate Blanchett makes a great villain, and is clearly having a great time playing against type and, (I don't think I'm spoiling anything here) when good triumphs and evil is punished, gets one of those fun, franchise-standard bizarre and gruesome deaths. Shia LaBoeuf is a good sidekick, and it's as much a delight to see Karen Allen's Marion Ravenwood return as I expected.

Is it dumb? Yeah, kind of. Does it occasionally make you roll your eyes and think, "Yeah, right?" Yeah, kind of. But, well, you also have to remember that our introduction to Indiana Jones involved a temple with booby traps that were triggered by Indy putting his hand into a shaft of light, and a giant, perfectly round boulder. Suspension of disbelief has always been tenuous at best where Dr. Jones is concerned. Which is just how it ought to be.

RIP Rory Root

2008-05-20T15:13:00.002-06:00

Hi, everybody! Finals were busy as hell, internet access is spotty (at best) at home, and my Mom (Hi, Mom!) has been desperately wishing for a new post from me for two weeks so that the F-Word doesn't pop up at the top of the page every time she checks my blog.

And I just learned from Mark Evanier's site that Rory Root has died at the age of 50. Who's Rory Root? He was the owner of Comic Relief, an East Bay institution and one of the great comic book stores anywhere. I didn't actually know him, like Neil Gaiman did. I have always developed a friendly, conversational relationship with the owners and staffs of comics shops at which I was a regular customer - but I was only as regular a customer at Comic Relief as one can be when one lives a thousand miles away from it, so I can't say I even had a nodding acquaintance with Mr. Root.

Still, learning that he has died makes me sad.

The very first day I met Mle, she took me on a walking tour of Berkeley. She took me up Shattuck Avenue (this was before Comic Relief moved into their current Shattuck digs) showed me some of her old haunts on campus, and then we strolled down Telegraph, poking around in Moe's Books and Amoeba Records, laughing at all the trust-fund kids pretending to be gutter punks and asking for spare change, and then I saw a comic book store (this was, of course, the late Comics & Comix, for those familiar with the Berzerkeley), and of course I had to go in. I poked around for a while and bought a couple of things, and then we went back to Mle's apartment. Seeing me peruse my purchases, Mle's roommate asked if she had taken me to Comic Relief. "No," she said, "but next time he comes out I'll take him there."

Which she did, and it was then that I discovered what a comic book store can and should be. This was still pre-move, when they were in that tiny little shoebox of a space on University. Even so, I was astounded - it was well organized, it had an enormous, comprehensive selection not just of "floppies," but of trade collections and, ahem (if you must), "graphic novels." Staff was knowledgable and friendly, they didn't spend the whole time we were in there staring at Mle's boobs, and by god, 90-95% of the product they were selling was comics - not toys, not games, not "collectibles," but actual comics. Do I believe in love at first sight? With people, no. With comic book stores, yes.

Since then, a trip to Comic Relief has become an important part of any trip of substantial length to the Bay Area. Sometimes I don't have the dough to buy anything. Sometimes I go a little nuts and buy too much. But just going in there, browsing, discovering new titles and creators, it's worth it no matter what. It's a pilgrimage.

That's it. Never really met the guy, though I certainly saw him in the shop when I was in there. He certainly wouldn't have known me from Adam. But he created one of my favorite places in the world. So thanks for that, Rory.

Fuck You, Southwest Airlines

2008-05-05T07:30:00.003-06:00

In all the years I've been flying, I've never had anything even remotely like this happen to me.

On the flight out, you hold the plane for half a goddamned hour to wait for one passenger to arrive from a different flight? After the number of times I've raced across an airport like an Olympic sprinter to make a connecting flight? Fuck you!

On the flight back, our suitcase comes off the carousel looking like it's been dragged behind a truck down a dirt road for twenty miles? Completely ruined and unusable. A brand-new, never-before-used piece of luggage, a wedding gift, for fuck's sake, and it gets destroyed when I check it! Don't get me wrong, I'm grateful that there even was a replacement suitcase available at the customer service office - but am I really supposed to be happy when you destroy my baggage and then replace my nice suitcase with a cheap-ass Wal-Mart piece of shit?

Ah, the modern airline industry. Where the motto is, "What are you gonna do about it?" When you fly these days, you're going to take it up the ass, and you're going to pretend to like it, too. "You get what you pay for" + "low-cost carrier" doesn't really need to equal "getting fucked," does it?

Fuck you, Southwest Airlines.

Summertime, And The Movies Are Crappy...

2008-05-01T14:40:00.004-06:00

As promised, a brief look at the upcoming summer flick slate:

Must See:
Iron Man: Trailers make it look like probably the best superhero flick since Spidey 2, and all the elements for greatness are there.
Speed Racer: Almost certainly going to be awful...but it's so shiny! People talk about summer movies as "eye candy," but in this case I think that's actually a good term. Yet another round of CGI creatures, Michael Bay ineptitude and explosions? Not eye candy. Something that looks like no other movie I've ever seen? Quite possibly eye candy.
Indiana Jones and the Kingdom of the Crystal Skull: Well, duh.
The Chronicles of Narnia: Prince Caspian: The first one was good enough to keep me interested. Of course, the source material goes pretty rapidly downhill from here. I really, really hope they don't slug all the way through to The Last Battle, because, well, eeeuugh.
The Incredible Hulk: I liked Ang Lee's take on the Hulk a lot more than most people seem to have done. It was a little ponderous, though, and this looks anything but. Hopefully there's plenty of great "HULK SMASH!" action.
WALL-E: There are just no words for how gorgeous this trailer looks. If the movie is even a fraction as good as the trailer promises, we're in for a treat.
The Dark Knight: Looks to be another solid outing for the Nolan/Goyer/Bale take on Batman.

Maybe:
Get Smart: I always did like the original TV show, and Steve Carrell seems like a good fit for the role of Maxwell Smart. On the other hand, how many really worthwhile movies have been made from old TV sitcoms? Still, the trailer is more than just, "Remember 'Get Smart?' Well, hey, look, it's a movie now! Shoe phone! Cone of Silence! It's funny because you remember these things from before!" So that's pretty good.
Hancock: Hey, a Will Smith action-comedy coming out for the 4th of July! Imagine that! Well, at least it looks like it's probably more Men in Black than Wild Wild West.
The X-Files: I Want to Believe: Hey, one more romp with Mulder and Scully could be great, especially after the way things fizzled at the end the last time around. I understand they're aiming for more of the "non-mythology episode" feel this time around rather than lots of pointless and confusing stuff with Cigarette Smoking Man, cornfields, black oil and evil bees. Wise, that.
Tropic Thunder: I could easily go my entire life without seeing another Ben Stiller movie. But I can't help it - I think this one looks pretty funny.

Unlikely, But Maybe:
The Happening: M. Night Shyamalan has the chops to be a really good filmmaker. He's done it at least 1.75 times before. Maybe he'll get over the "Gotcha!" impulse and give us something worthwhile.
The Mummy: Tomb of the Dragon Emperor: I'm note sure whether releasing a new effort in The Poor Man's Indiana Jones franchise at the tail end of a summer sure to focus on The Rich Man's Indiana Jones (that being, well, you know, Indiana Jones) is a great idea or not. But it might be worth checking out.

Well, Maybe If You Paid Me To:
Made of Honor: My only vague interest in this is whether they're claiming this is an original screenplay or if they've given on-screen credit to the writers of My Best Friend's Wedding.
You Don't Want to Mess With Zohan: Hey, look, there's still Adam Sandler, for some reason.
Step Brothers: Hey, look, there's still Will Ferrell, for some reason.
The Love Guru: Hey, look, there's still Mike Meyers, for some reason. How much you want to bet he stands behind a couch and pretends to be rowing a canoe, and then does a wacky Scottish accent?
Kung Fu Panda: Hey, look, another computer-animated anthropomorphic animal movie! Can't have too many of those!
Mamma Mia!: A movie based on a Broadway musical revolving around the music of ABBA. And you thought musicals couldn't get any worse than John Travolta in drag!

...and the award for Movie I Just Won't See, Even If You Pay Me $100 and Give Me Free Popcorn and My Weight in Junior Mints goes to:

Sex and the City: Couldn't be less interested. Can't imagine why anyone would be (yes, I know some people would say the same of some of my "Must-see" picks). Hated every single thing about "Sex and the City" when it was a TV show. And no matter how hard the Hollywood press and the cosmetics industry and whoever else try to convince me that she's GORGEOUS, Sarah Jessica Parker looks like a horse.

Workers of All Nations, Unite

2008-05-01T08:23:00.003-06:00

Since Cil made a post about May Day/Beltane already, I figured I'd give a shout out to the proletariat and wish the oppressed underclasses of the world a happy International Worker's Day. In all of those nations of the world where the Communist Dream has already come true, happy International Worker's Day! In all of those nations of the world where you're still in that, um, "transitional phase" of totalitarian government that pretends you're all living in a laborer's paradise, happy International Worker's Day, and keep reaching for that rainbow! In all of those nations whose working classes have yet to revolt, the time is now!

Or something. Thanks anyway to Karl Marx and Vlad Lenin for being indirectly responsible for some important developments in the history of graphic design and cinema.

Speaking of which, May Day also means the start of the big Summer Blockbuster movie season, about which, more later today. Keep your eyes peeled, true believers.

Get Off My Lawn!

2008-04-29T07:53:00.002-06:00

I turned 31 yesterday, which I think officially makes me a Crotchety Old Man, entitled to complain about anything and everything. Here's what's bugging me this week:

So it turns out that Hannah Montana was not born wearing trendy fashions from Forever 21 and Charlotte Russe and is, in fact, naked under her clothes. This, apparently, is a Major Problem. And I mean, "Major Problem" on the order of "the Dixie Chicks dared to criticize the President" Major Problem, as this has at least one Internet Moron proposing a Nazi-style public bonfire to burn Hannah Montana merchandise.
Other Internet Morons are claiming that Barack Obama has somehow sacrificed his right to complain about his treatment at the debacle that was the recent ABC debate, because he turned down Hillary's absurd offer for yet another debate. What does Obama possibly stand to gain from it? How could that offer be even remotely attractive to him? Of course he's not going to do it, but that doesn't mean he's sacrificed anything or given up his right to complain when the media persists in asking him about Reverend Wright and an offhand remark he made while addressing a private audience of chardonnay-sipping San Francisco liberals.
Has any internet phenomenon gone from amusing to annoying to enraging faster than "Stuff White People Like"? Even LOLCats had a longer shelf life. It was funny the first time I saw it, then I looked again and thought, "Hmm, kind of a one-trick pony, isn't he?" and now, it's all I can do not to strangle someone who tells me how funny this misbegotten shitheap of a humor blog is. Yep, white people are liberal weenies. As Homer Simpson would say, "Oh, it's true, it's true! We're so lame!"
Saturday is Free Comic Book Day. No, FCBD isn't annoying me - it annoys me that I forgot to put up a countdown widget on my sidebar this year, but that's beside the point. Here's what's sticking in my craw: The great big giant Iron Man movie is coming out on Friday - maybe you've heard something about it? I hear they're promoting it just a bit. So...a big comic book movie is coming out on Friday, Free Comic Book Day is on Saturday. The smart folks at WizKids, who make the popular HeroClix game, have provided an Iron Man HeroClix figure as a giveaway for FCBD. Pretty clever, right? Synergy, they calls it. So, naturally, the smart folks at Marvel must have done the same thing, right? Maybe people who just saw Iron Man on Friday night stop into a comic book store on Saturday, and you give 'em a free Iron Man comic. Brilliant! Maybe people stop into a comic book store who haven't seen the movie yet, and you give 'em a free Iron Man comic, maybe even one that ties into the movie somehow, and you promote the big movie right alongside the comics. Brilliant! So...why is Marvel giving out a fucking X-Men comic for Free Comic Book Day? You have the perfect confluence of dates, and you just don't care. Way to promote your ostensible primary product, Marvel!
DC's not a whole lot better, by the way - why are they giving out a Superman comic (though it is, admittedly, an awesome comic, by general consensus the best Superman has been in years) when there's a big Batman flick coming out in six weeks? Sports columnist Bill Simmons talks about teams needing a "VP of Common Sense" to analyze trades and draft picks. I think maybe Marvel and DC need one of those, too, in their marketing departments.

How Do You Like Them Apples?

2008-04-17T20:49:00.002-06:00

Now enjoy one of the best hockey calls of all time, courtesy Mike Haynes, voice of the Colorado Avalanche.

Okay, so Haynes has always been a bit of a homer. But goddamn, that's a great call. I'd rather have a homer who gets excited when TOTALLY AWESOME SHIT happens than Joe Buck droning through one of the most exciting plays in Super Bowl history as though it was a two-yard run by an unknown running back in the third quarter of a pre-season game.

Mr. Mole Maker, Won't You Make More Mole for Me?

2008-04-16T12:14:00.019-06:00

I love to cook. Why? Well, because I love to eat. Every now and then, someone asks what my favorite food is. My response? Well, how could I even begin to choose? How can I have a favorite in a world so full of fantastic, amazing, incredible, wonderful food? How could I possibly say that I like the sublime beauty of sushi over the less-refined but more id-pleasing joy of digging into a paper carton of General Tso's chicken? I can't, no more than I could really say that I like a great ribeye more than I like a great cheeseburger. I couldn't possibly pick a favorite food - but I do know that mole has to be near the top of any list.

I know that Mexican restaurants are kind of stuck for an easy answer when somebody asks, "What is mole?" How can you describe mole in a few words? "It's a sauce made with chiles and chocolate" is sort of the standard answer. Which, yeah, is a fairly functional explanation, but it's sort of like if someone were to ask you, "Who are the Beatles?" and you were to reply, "A band from England that was popular in the '60s."

Once, a restaurant I was working at got a new chef. When he had been there for a couple of weeks, he introduced a new appetizer involving mole. Curious, I asked, "What kind of mole is it?" There are as many kinds of mole as there are little villages and towns in Mexico, after all, with different ingredients, different colors, different flavors. I sort of expected that he'd have at least some familiarity with this. This was a chef, after all, who had just days before spent a good five minutes angrily bitching out the entire waitstaff about our lack of knowledge because none of us was familiar with the word concassé, with the implication being that none of us idiots were fit to serve his brilliant artistic creations to the hungry masses. So I expected at least a little knowledge from him when I asked what kind of mole he was making.

"It's a very traditional mole," he said. Oh, okay. Sort of like asking what kind of sauce he was putting on a pasta and hearing, "It's a very traditional pasta sauce." Not unexpectedly after such a response, that shit tasted like the man had tossed some jalapeños, a banana and a Hershey bar in a blender and dished it up.

I'm pleased to say that, with an assist from Rick Bayless, I think I'm beginning to get a handle on mole-making. For dinner guests last night, I decided that mole would be just the thing. This required a trip to a different grocery store than either of the two we usually shop at on Sunday afternoon and, when that one didn't have the dried chiles I needed, a trip over to one of the Mexican grocery stores on Federal Avenue. Sunday afternoon and evening was given over entirely to mole making.

Reconstituting the toasted ancho and guajillo chiles.

A variety of ingredients draining after being fried; clockwise, we have almonds, raisins, white bread (a sliced Mexican bolillo roll), corn tortilla, peanuts, pumpkin seeds.

Frying onions and garlic.

Two purees waiting to be mixed; on the left, a mixture of spices (chile seeds, sesame seeds, grated avocado pit), the nuts, raisins, bread and tortilla, the onions and garlic, tomato and tomatillo, plus chicken broth. On the right, the chiles.

I had to pause to wash some dishes in the midst of the process, because I was out of counter space in the kitchen.

The two purees are combined and set to simmer, along with some more chicken broth and some Mexican chocolate.

The great thing about mole is that you can make it in advance, and it will only get better sitting in the fridge for a couple of days.

I have fallen madly in love with the George Foreman Lean Mean Fat-Reducin' Grilling Machine that we got as a wedding gift. It makes a thoroughly convenient way to cook even a big mess o' chicken.

And there you have it!

Mmm...mole. Delicious, delicious mole. Spicy, sweet, smoky, earthy...so, so good.

Open, Sez Me

2008-04-13T21:18:00.013-06:00

This weekend was an annual event called Doors Open Denver, in which various local landmarks open their doors for the public to come in and take a peek around. A lot of them are churches, and it's kind of cool to go into a church and not have to hear about Jesus and stuff. Above, stained glass at the St. John's Episcopal Cathedral.

Trinity United Methodist Church

The world-famous Brown Palace Hotel's atrium - they opened up the "Beatles Suite," where one of the Fab Four stayed when the boys played Red Rocks in '64 (or at least, I assume only one of them stayed in the particular room that was open to the public, as there was only one bed and I don't think they were that friendly with one another), and the Presidential Suite, which has hosted every president since Teddy Roosevelt except that rat bastard Calvin Coolidge...

...and in which the bed linens match the wallpaper. The Beatles Suite looked like pretty much any other fancy hotel room. The Presidential Suite was a step above.

Notre Dame Hockey rally that happened to be going on outside the downtown Comfort Inn, across the street from the Brown Palace, as the Irish hockey team boarded their team bus to head over to the Pepsi Center for the NCAA hockey championship game (which they lost to Boston College).

Here's a picture of our kitties, because they're cute. I'm in ur window, watchin ur brekfist.

Rose Window, Cathedral Basilica of the Immaculate Conception.

The inside of the Cathedral is pretty amazing - there's more windows than in any of the older cathedrals we saw in Italy, letting in loads of light.

And it's all really, really beautiful, too.

Also fascinating are the bas-relief Stations of the Cross that line the interior walls.

We didn't make it to the Molly Brown House - which would have been worth doing mostly because this is the one time in the year that it's free; I don't know that I would be willing to pay to see it, the Daniels & Fisher Tower or the Capital for a vanishingly rare dome tour...well, there's always next year, I guess.

Fantastic...ish

2008-04-09T11:47:00.009-06:00

Here we have the cover to Fantastic Four #1 - if you're a reader of superhero comics, you surely recognize it. Drawn by Jack Kirby, it's one of the most famous, iconic covers in the history of the genre.

And, well...it kind of sucks. I mean...look at it!

It proudly proclaims that it features, "'The Thing!' 'Mr. Fantastic!' 'Human Torch!' 'Invisible Girl!' Together for the first time in one mighty magazine!" Uh...well, yeah, they're together for the first time. And, as of the publication of this first issue, they're together for the only time, as it's the first appearance of all four of these characters. It's not like they're giving us, "Superman and Batman - Your two favorite heroes in one adventure together!" or the first team-up of four heroes who have, oh, I don't know, any sort of publishing history at all...I know that absurd hyperbole has always been sort of Marvel "house style," but this is just ridiculous.

So here we have the Human Torch. So far, so good. More or less dead-center in the composition, as is befitting the character with the most visually dynamic power of the quartet. He's also always been my favorite FF member, so I've got no problems with the presentation. Sure, he looks a little odd here compared to later depictions, but it always takes an artist a little while to refine the way he draws a new character. At least Johnny's looking better here than his opposite number, the X-Men's Iceman, did in his early and rather ridiculous "snowman" form. The central placement may also have been meant as an enticement to readers who remembered or were familiar with the original Human Torch, and might have wondered if this was the same character.

Next, let's take a look at the character destined to become the fan favorite, Benjamin J. Grimm, the ever-lovin' blue-eyed Thing. Not to be confused with the ever-lovin' one-eyed thing...totally different. All seems well and good...until you notice that he's randomly smashing some poor schnook's car as he prepares to "take a hand." A bit of collateral damage is inevitable when superheroes are fighting a monster, of course, but does Ben really have to exacerbate the problem? Also, his dialog seems to indicate that he's been sitting on the sidelines, just watching while his teammates battled the big green monster, before deciding that he might as well go help out.

We turn our attention now to Sue Storm, the Invisible Girl, who...um, well, "can't turn invisible fast enough." For what, Sue? What the damnhell good is turning invisible going to do you? The monster has you in its grip, and its focus appears to be pretty focused on the Torch and the Thing. What the hell does it matter if you're visible or not? And why does it matter if it takes you the blink of eye or thirty seconds? It blows my mind that Stan and Jack didn't realize, just on the basis of this cover, that they had given Sue a fairly useless power. It took them nearly two years to add her force field ability! How could they not look at her failure to "turn invisible fast enough" and think, "Hey, maybe she should be able to do a little more than that if we're going to have her fighting big green monsters and such..."

Yeah, it's true. When your power is that you're, like, stretchy and stuff, it will indeed take more than ropes to keep you out of action. But...um...Reed? Who in the name of Jesus H. Tapdancing Christ tied you up? Did the monster tie you up? Did the monster attack while you and Sue were playing some sort of kinky bondage game...in the middle of a busy Manhattan street...while fully clothed? I mean...I mean...I mean...I know it's gotta be tough, even for Jack Kirby, to draw a dynamic and exciting cover that tells you right away what each character's power is. But I really gotta know...how the hell did Reed get tied up in the first place?

Okay, it doesn't actually suck. It's just, well, it's just damned odd, that's all.

Stupid Human Tricks

2008-04-08T08:59:00.003-06:00

This guy may just look like an extra from "The Sopranos," but I assure you, this is The Most Talented Human Being in the World. That's right. Move over, Guy Who Juggles Ping Pong Balls With His Mouth! Step aside, Lady Who Bulges Her Eyes Out to a Creepy and Disturbing Degree! Guy Who Kicks Himself in the Head 30 Times in 30 Seconds, Guy Who Eats a Marshmallow with a Mousetrap and a Blowgun, Guy Who Drinks a Beer Through His Nose? Fuhgeddaboudit!

Ladies and gentlemen...Guy Who Can Play Any Song With Handfarts:

Springtime in the Rockies Redux

2008-04-07T20:30:00.003-06:00

Yesterday, we sat outdoors in our shirtsleeves, eating ice cream. Bonnie Brae, by the way, is perfectly decent ice cream, but nowhere near as good as Liks, which scoops the Mile High City's best cone. After ice cream, we strolled in the park, just another couple in amongst the vast crowd of other couples, familes, bicyclists, rollerbladers, runners, dog-walkers, frisbee-throwers, volleyballists, and all the others out enjoying the fantastic weather. We sat on a bench in front of the lake. Moments after we sat down, a submerged bird burst to the surface of the water, a flopping fish clutched tightly in its beak. It gulped the fish down whole, and we could see it still flopping as it slid down the bird's throat. It was a beautiful day, perfectly typical for April on Colorado's Front Range - Springtime in Denver is glorious!

Today at 11:00 am, it was snowing in great big fat swirling ploofs, and probably didn't get above 40° all day. Gloomy clouds scudded across the sky all afternoon. Every time I stepped outside, I regretted not bringing gloves or a hat. They're predicting more snow for later in the week. It was a miserable day, perfectly typical for April on Colorado's Front Range - Springtime in Denver is lousy!

RIP Charlton Heston

2008-04-05T22:41:00.003-06:00

Yeah, everyone's going to be talking about The Ten Commandments and Ben-Hur and probably how he turned into Mr. NRA...

But really...it's all about The Planet of the Motha-Fuckin' Apes, yo.

"Take your stinking paws off me, you damn dirty ape!"

"A world where apes evolved from men?"

"I can't help but think that somewhere in the universe, there must be something better than man!"

"It's a madhouse! A MADHOUSE!"

"Oh my God...I'm home. We finally did it. YOU MANIACS! YOU BLEW IT UP! DAMN YOU! GODDAMN YOU ALL TO HELL!"

Beat the Crowds

2008-04-05T16:12:00.005-06:00

I had to wait for-fucking-ever to get this photo. Fortunately, I think it was worth the wait. It's not my best from our trip to Arches National Park, but I think it's pretty good. We sat there for a good ten minutes below the North Window, waiting for people to clear out. First there was a guy just kind of standing there for a few minutes. Then, his wife came up to join him under the arch. She handed him a camera and said, "Now go back down and take a picture of me!" And she stood there while he dutifully trudged back down the slope, camera in hand. Then she stood there for a good long while, shouting instructions down at him. "Move farther down! Now go about five feet to the left! No, come farther back up! George...George! George! Move back over! Now take the picture! Okay, take another one, just to be sure! Now move over to the right! Now take the picture!" God Almighty, I wanted to throttle her. But once the epic picture-taking process was complete, she went off to join poor George and the arch was free from human presence for several minutes.

And that, when you think about it, is pretty remarkable. In the middle of the afternoon on a day with weather as gorgeous as we had (scattered clouds and 65°) at one of the park's main attractions, the opportunity to take photos like this:

...and this:

...is pretty cool. If you're looking for a time to visit Arches, you could do worse than early April. A lot worse. I can't imagine what it would be like trying to take anything resembling a worthwhile photo of the Windows site in July. There were more than a few people there, but nothing like the hordes who must certainly come up from Moab (and, for that matter, down from Grand Junction) in the middle of summer. Though it was annoying waiting for Ms. "Go Take a Photo of Me, George!", it was at least possible to wait her out. When the park is truly busy, each of these photos would also feature two or three groups of bored parents completely ignoring their thirty or forty screaming children crawling all over the geology, right in front of all the signs that explicitly say to stay on the marked trail, because there would be no convenient gaps in the crowds during which to take photos of the deserted site.

Beat the crowds, I say. With a stick, if necessary.

Where's Batman When You Need Him?

2008-04-03T23:00:00.004-06:00

The bachelor party has been as much fun as one could hope - a good group of guys, good food, plenty of alcohol, and, of course, a fair amount of, ahem, "gentlemen's entertainment." At the conclusion of the festivities, myself, my brother and Simon are getting into Simon's car, parked a few blocks up Montgomery from the, ahem, "gentlemen's entertainment" district of North Beach. While Simon is putting some things into the back to make room in the back seat, my brother and I are climbing into the car. I hear a noise and sense a presence on the sidewalk behind us. Thinking it's the usual city nuisance of a bum asking for change, I turn to shoo him away.

And rather than the extended and upturned palm I expect to see, there's a gun pointing at me. If I was a gun person, I might be able to tell you what kind of gun it is, but I'm not. So what kind of gun is it? It's the silver kind, and the kind with a hole in the business end where a bullet comes out. Most importantly, it's the kind of gun that is pointed at me.

"Aright, get on th' ground and gimme the money," says he.

"Oh, holy shit," says I, sitting down involuntarily in the front seat of the car.

"Get on th' ground and gimme your wallets!" says he.

"Okay," says my brother, handing his over. I follow suit. As we're both basically in the car, we don't actually get on the ground, but Guy With Gun doesn't seem to mind. Fortunately, my wallet contains only about $25 in cash, plus debit card, driver's license and school ID. My brother and Simon, who had been taking care of the Guest of Honor (that's me) had substantially more.

"What else you got?" he says. "Empty your pockets!" I've got a handful of change in my pocket, but nothing else. I attempt to hand over the change - knowing it's absurd but also not wanting to get shot for holding out on Guy With Gun - and he says, "I don't want that shit," dropping coins all over the sidewalk. In a flash, he's gone, along with another who had been emptying the cash from Simon's wallet. Amazingly, he takes the cash but drops the wallet, making Simon the lucky one who doesn't have to replace his ID and cancel his credit cards.

The whole thing takes thirty seconds, maybe as much as sixty.

Driving across the Bay Bridge, we agree that we're lucky that none of us was actually shot or pistol-whipped, that they didn't decide they wanted the car (wide open and with keys in Simon's hand at the time), that they didn't take our phones (so my brother was able to call his wife so she could cancel his cards right away), that I had the debit card for my personal account in my wallet but not the one for the joint account that has all the wedding money in it, but we all still kind of feel like shit.

Simon queues up the "Raiders March" on his iPod (also, remarkably, unstolen) and I briefly imagine punching the guy in the jaw and deftly taking the gun from him, as the good Dr. Jones surely would have.

Later, at Simon's house, my brother and Simon seem to have shaken off the experience, sitting in the hot tub, drinking martinis. I still feel like shit. My brother now has a date with the DMV all afternoon the next day in order to get the paperwork he needs so he can get on a plane without photo ID a couple of days later. Both of them are out a substantial chunk of change. And why? Because they'd taken me out, wanting to show me a good time.

Well, I don't think either of them is really pissed off at me about the matter, and it really can't possibly be construed as my fault...but I still feel like shit about it.

Y'know how on cop shows like CSI and Law & Order, or the old classics like Dragnet, they bring in the victim, show him a lineup and he's always like, "Yes, number three, that's the guy!" Pure fantasy. I may or may not have lost my faith in humanity, but I've certainly lost my faith in the reliability of eyewitnesses. All three of us agreed that we wouldn't have a hope of identifying either of the muggers in a lineup, or describing them to a sketch artist or any of that other bullshit you see on TV. I don't think Simon ever saw the face of the guy who took his money, and my brother and I agreed that the only description Guy With Gun we could possibly provide is, "He was black, and he had gold grill, and a Pittsburgh Pirates hat." Not exactly a lot for the cops to go on.

Even so, I console myself with the fantasy that CSI: San Francisco (theme song: "Magic Bus") is on the case, using all their high-tech "SCIENCE!" gizmos and bad techno music to track down the perps. And as we all know, CSI always gets their man.

The Marriage of a Nerd - Part VI: Home Again

2008-04-03T22:24:00.002-06:00

We've arrived safe and sound back in Denver after a fun mini-honeymoon road trip. Big thanks to Monkey for offering her comfy futon at a moment's notice when we discovered that almost all of the roads in Yosemite were closed and thus diverted to SoCal instead, and thanks to Mle's Oldest Friend for changing her plans and coming to have dinner with us (and Monkey) on equally short notice.

Delicious-as-always lunch at In-n-Out ("Those are good burgers, Walter!"), this time at the Las Vegas location, a charming stay at the Budget Host Knight's Inn in Richfield, Utah, free dessert from the waitress at the JB's Diner in Richfield - the wedding gifts keep on coming - who insisted that Mle wanted the cheesecake instead of pie, a fabulous but too brief visit to Arches National Park, a waitress with a permed femullet at the Moab Brewery (They have brewpubs in Utah - who knew?), and then a decision that arriving home late and seeing our kitties and sleeping in our own bed was way, way better than staying in Grand Junction or Glenwood Springs tonight...

And here we are. Home, and married.

The Marriage of a Nerd - Part V: I Now Pronounce You Nerd and Wife

2008-03-30T19:05:00.004-06:00

You know, I had a lot more I thought I might write about the wedding. I had big plans. And then, we had a million errands to run and a million details to take care of and I didn't have any time to write in the blog, and suddenly, it was the Big Day.

Look, y'all, I'm not going to bore you with the complete run-down. I'm just going to say that we got everything we wanted and it was just about as close to perfect as anyone could possibly hope for. Everyone had a great time, especially us.

And I had the singular privilege of marrying THIS PERSON, which would have made the day perfect, no matter what.

I Steal the Movie Meme, Too!

2008-03-26T18:37:00.007-06:00

Stolen from Todd and Erin.

Here are the rules I must follow:

* Pick 15 of my favorite movies.
* Go to IMDB and find a quote from each movie.
* Post them on el bloggo for everyone to guess.
* Fill in the film title once it’s been guessed.

These are the rules, people!

* Leave guesses in the comments.
* No Googling or using IMDB search functions. Don’t cheat, suckas!
*Know-it-alls, limit your guesses to three movies. Save some for others!

ETA: Y'all are smart, you got 'em all, even some of my most obscure choices! I listed just the first comment to be registered as the "winner," but many of you guessed many of them correctly! Nice work, movie lovers!

"Can you believe these new girls? None of them use birth control and they eat all the steak!" (Almost Famous - Monica)

"Say, any of you boys smithies? Or, if not smithies per se, were you otherwise trained in the metallurgic arts before straitened circumstances forced you into a life of aimless wanderin'?" (O Brother Where Art Thou? - Average Jane)

"Most of the week we were Ozzie and Harriet, but every Saturday night we were finding something out: we were finding out more and more that we were not alone. It used to be that when I came home angry and depressed I'd just clean my condo, polish my Scandinavian furniture. I should have been looking for a new condo. I should have been haggling with my insurance company. I should have been upset about my nice, neat, flaming little shit. But I wasn't." (Fight Club - Leah)

"Remember when you were six? You and your brother snuck into an empty building through a basement window. You were going to play doctor. He showed you his but when it got to be your turn you chickened and ran, you remember that? You ever tell anybody that? Your mother, Tyrell, anybody? Remember the spider that lived outside your window? Orange body, green legs. Watched her build a web all summer then one day there's a big egg in it. The egg hatched..." (Blade Runner - Average Jane)

"I admire you as a policeman, particularly your adherence to violence as a necessary adjunct to the job." (L.A. Confidential - QIR)

"I should get one of those signs that says 'One of these days I'm gonna get organezized'." (Taxi Driver - Tituba)

"What was I supposed to do - call him for cheating better than me, in front of the others?" (The Sting - Simon)

"Now I have a machine gun. Ho ho ho." (Die Hard - Matt)

"We'd better get back, 'cause it'll be dark soon, and they mostly come at night... mostly." (Aliens - Average Jane)

"It was nothing like that, penis-breath!" (E.T. the Extra-Terrestrial - Erin)

"Oh, this is the worst-looking hat I ever saw. What, when you buy a hat like this I bet you get a free bowl of soup, huh? Oh, it looks good on you, though." (Caddyshack - Todd)

"By the way, it says 'balls' on your face." (Garden State - Monkey McWearingchaps)

"I'm telling you this for your own good, that's the worst fuckin' sweater I've ever seen, that's a Cosby sweater." (High Fidelity - Todd)

"You hit me. Look don't make me participate in your stupid crap if you don't like the way I do it. You make me get out of bed, you make me come over here. You make me make a phony phone call to Edward Rooney? The man could squash my nuts into oblivion. And-and-and then, and then, you deliberately hurt my feelings." (Ferris Bueller's Day Off - Erin)

"Your shower shoes have fungus on them. You'll never make it to the bigs with fungus on your shower shoes. Think classy, you'll be classy. If you win 20 in the show, you can let the fungus grow back and the press'll think you're colorful. Until you win 20 in the show, however, it means you are a slob." (Bull Durham - Matt)

The Marriage of a Nerd - Part IV: Artsy and Crafty

2008-03-26T16:49:00.003-06:00

Last week, I was working with an old-fashioned printing press, with lead type and just a step beyond what Gutenberg was using five hundred years ago. I came home with my hands covered in sticky printers' ink. "That is going to wash off before the wedding, right?" Mle said, mostly joking, but with the tiniest twinge of real concern in her voice. I assured her that it would and, with the minor exception of a bit still clinging to the edges of the fingernails, it has. Now my hands are stained with paint.

It was inevitable, given the temperaments of both my Lovely Intended and myself that our wedding would have a strong DIY aesthetic. Thus far, Mle has folded a metric ass-ton of origami cranes, created a whole bunch of tissue paper pompoms, sewed four bridesmaids' dresses, constructed a beaded hair ornament for herself and probably a ton of other stuff that I'm forgetting besides.

I have, of course, created some pretty damn kick-ass invitations, created a website, designed table cards, escort cards and a program, constructed a custom cake topper, and have just finished painting some "how to get there" signs.

It's been a lot of fun for both of us to work on all these projects. I think the best part, ultimately, is that the wedding is really going to exude our personality. The wedding industry wants you to buy a whole bunch of crap for your wedding, have your names or initials and wedding date printed on all of it (at incredible cost), so that your "special day" will feel "individual," since it's your name on the mass produced crap you're using. Instead, we've created something that really is ours, unmistakably.

The Marriage of a Nerd - Part III: Almost Official and Ready to Get Drunk

2008-03-25T11:50:00.003-06:00

Yesterday, we went down to the Sonoma County Clerk's office and acquired a marriage license. This means that we're thisclose to being Officially Married. All we have to do is rope some unsuspecting Impressive Clergyman into solemnizing our marriage (i.e., saying "Man and Wife" or the era-appropriate non-sexist equivalent thereof) and sending the paperwork back to the county office, and we're set to jet.

After taking care of that crucial little detail, we went to BevMo and fulfilled our remaining liquor-purchasing requirements. We now have (or will have) enough booze to satisfy Amy Winehouse for two whole days. For those keeping score at home, that's four cases of wine, six bottles of Proseco, a full keg of beer and a handle each of bourbon, rum and vodka. 104.75 liters of liquor.

I'll admit, it's way more beer than we need, and probably more booze than we'll actually need, too. But this is one case where it's definitely better to have too much than to have not enough.

The Marriage of a Nerd - Part II: Thumbs Down, Thums Up

2008-03-23T12:55:00.002-06:00

So for the last week or so, we've been saying, "Well, we've got everything done that we can do here in Denver. Everything else has to wait until we get to California."

Now we're in California, so it's time to get everything else done.

Yesterday, we wanted to do some things that turned out to be impossible. Mle needed a few bits and pieces of new clothes, so we headed over to the Bay Street shopping center in Emeryville in order to go to H&M, only to discover that nearly every store in the place was closed for Easter.

Closed for Easter, for fuck's sake. That's just crazy, if you ask me. And it wasn't just Bay Street, either. Cross Dress for Less? Closed! Marshall's? Closed! Costco, where we wanted to stock up on groceries for our rented house? Closed! To quote Homer Simpson, "I don't even believe in Jeebus," and now because of Jeebus, we can't go shopping on a Sunday afternoon? Shenanigans, I tell you!

Things started looking up in the afternoon, though. The fine folks at Viks Chaat Corner, one of our must-stop-ins when in Berkeley, don't believe in Jeebus, either, so they were open for business and we were able to have a fine lunch of samosas (veggie for her, lamb for me) and Thums Up cola.

And then a fantastic dinner made by QIR and attended by A Girl and a Boy, with mojitos and turkey cutlets and wild rice and a delicious apple tart.

After dinner, it was a late-night drive to Sonoma County, where the weather is perhaps even more gorgeouser than it was in the East Bay yesterday, and where we've got a rather full plate of afternoon errands.

The Marriage of a Nerd - Part I: On The Road Again

2008-03-22T20:57:00.005-06:00

Greetings, once again, from the East Bay, and t-minus ONE WEEK to the Wedding of the Century.

Made good time across Wyoming last night and wound up sleeping at an absurdly expensive Motel 6 in Evanston underneath the single ugliest bedspread in the history of the bedspread. While I don't expect a night at Motel 6 to still be $6, what's the deal with the Evanston joint charging $75 a night when every other M6 we passed by today was charging $40? Shenanigans, I tell you. Of course, we tried to stay at the legendary Little America, only to find that it was $100 for a standard room. Kitsch value in one's lodgings is well and good, but it's not worth a hunnert bones, I tell you. And then by the time we rolled into Evanston, we were too tired to search for anything cheaper than the absurdly expensive Motel 6.

Anyway, we rolled on across the Beehive State and the Silver State today, playing "I'm Thinking of Something..." (kind of a less-rule-dominated version of 20 Questions), snacking on delicious Cracked Pepper & Olive Oil Triscuits, reading to one another from our long-neglected read-aloud book, being flabbergasted at the price of gasoline, and on into Cali, only finally hitting the point of "Let Us Out of this FUCKING CAR" desperation at about the time we were passing by Sacramento.

And now we're hanging out at QIR's crib, marveling just a bit at the fact that in one week, we're totally going to be married and such.

The Power of Myth

2008-03-19T19:07:00.004-06:00

On Monday, Randall Munroe presented one of his better efforts recently, seen here. I've caught "MythBusters" a few times, as it's in pretty heavy rotation on the Discovery Channel, which is the default setting for the TVs in the student lounges here at my school. It's a massively, massively entertaining show. Recently, Roger Ebert also reposted his "Questions That Won't Die" Movie Answer Man column. Each of these is making a similar statement about the odd and persistent power of urban myth.

It's one of my biggest pet peeves: the utter, unthinking credulity with which so many of us accept just about anything we hear. Add on that people's general unwillingness to change their beliefs, and you've got a heady brew of idiotic ideas contaminating the pool of General Knowledge.

Once, many years ago, my two former roommates and I were watching the Governor of California's classic action flick True Lies. During the Jamie Lee Curtis striptease scene, one of them made the usual "She's actually got a dick" comment. "Oh, that's not true," I scoffed. Both roommates held firmly to their belief that Jamie Lee Curtis is a she-male of some sort. Why? Well, because one roommate's brother's biology professor had said it was so. "She's never made any sort of comment one way or the other about it," I said. And that is indeed the case - maybe it's true, maybe it's not, but it's not at all a Known Fact. Try as I might to explain this, they stuck to their guns. I appealed to higher authority, checking out what Snopes had to say about it. The fine folks at Snopes, of course, reiterated essentially what I had been saying. They continued to stick resolutely to their guns, with the rationale, "Well, I believe what a college professor says over some internet site!" Admittedly, 9 times out of 10, that's a sound strategy, but when the professor was just repeating a long-standing, unsubstantiated rumor as fact, well, I guess that's the 10th time, isn't it? Seeing that there was no way of convincing them - and mind you, I wasn't even trying to convince them that they were wrong, just that they were not necessarily correct - I gave up and dropped the subject. These two are both quite intelligent people, college educated and generally quite rational. Even so, they were unwilling to accept a belief that they held as fact.

It's astounding, really, how little we question what we believe. Someone we find generally trustworthy tells us that you can see one of the Munchkins hanging himself in the background of a scene in The Wizard of Oz? Why, then, you can see one of the Munchkins hanging himself in the background of a scene in The Wizard of Oz, end of story. Never mind that even in a three-inch YouTube frame on a computer monitor, you can pretty easily tell that the "Hanging Munchkin" is just a bird - the urban myth is much more fun to believe, right?

Now That's a Speech!

2008-03-19T14:26:00.002-06:00

Read it if you didn't hear or see Barack Obama's speech last night.

After eight long years, it sure would be nice if we got someone in the White House who didn't mangle the English language as a point of pride.

I love that it's not just the same old "underneath our skins, we're all the same" tropes. He's not saying "We're all the same," because we all know that's not true. It's a lovely, idealistic dream, but it's not true. He's saying, "I'm not going to get up here and tell you that race doesn't matter, because, well, of course it matters. It's part of who we are. But it doesn't matter enough to divide us when it comes to the real, meaningful issues that face us all."

I love that he continues to reject the knee-jerk jingoism that has come to substitute for genuine love of country in American political discourse over these last six-and-a-half years:

I have already condemned, in unequivocal terms, the statements of Reverend Wright that have caused such controversy. For some, nagging questions remain. Did I know him to be an occasionally fierce critic of American domestic and foreign policy? Of course. Did I ever hear him make remarks that could be considered controversial while I sat in church? Yes. Did I strongly disagree with many of his political views? Absolutely – just as I’m sure many of you have heard remarks from your pastors, priests, or rabbis with which you strongly disagreed.

See what he's doing there? He's not just saying, "Oh, well, if I had known that Reverend Wright was such a wacko, I would have left that church years ago" like so many politicians would do. Instead, he's reminding us of the single greatest aspect of living in a free society - that you're free to disagree with anything anyone says, and it doesn't mean you don't still like and respect that person. And that criticizing our government is not just the right but perhaps even the duty of every American. And yet he still repudiates Wright's remarks. Doing all this at once is deft and brilliant, something Dubya and a million speech writers could never pull off.

This is why I continue to write about Obama and his campaign. Because he does that. For all the garbage anyone can spew about his supposed lack of substance, the fact remains, he addresses hard truths. He doesn't shy away from the complexity of issues in favor of flashy production, easy soundbites and Orwellian double-speak. And through it all, he appeals to our better nature.

That's where the crux of this primary campaign lies, I think, and it's why Obama is likely to ultimately be the nominee. The old trope is, "vote your hopes, not your fears." Well, Hillary has been playing to our fears, as the now-infamous "3 a.m." commercial amply demonstrates. Obama, in the meantime, reminds us of something a lot of people forgot over these last few years. He reminds us that we're better than what we've been. We're better than Iraq. We're better than Abu Ghraib and water-boarding and extreme rendition. We're better than the aftermath of Katrina. We're better than all of that. We're capable of being a better country than Dubya has wanted us to be.

I'm not saying that Obama can't/won't/hasn't/shouldn't "go negative." But he continues to show himself to have a broader perspective than his current opponent, or his presumptive next opponent. And after the last presidential campaign, in which Kerry did little more than try to terrify us of four more years of Bush and Bush did nothing but try to terrify us of a country with anyone other than His Royal Christian Majesty in charge, someone who really does give us a chance to vote our hopes rather than our fears means an awful lot.

Goll-E

2008-03-13T08:56:00.003-06:00

I was a little dubious about Cars from the very first teaser...and while it was certainly the weakest Pixar film since A Bug's Life, it was not bad. I was a little dubious about Ratatouille when I saw the teasers, too, and that one turned out to be great.

But their newest, WALL-E...well, take a look at the trailer. It looks AWESOME.

Zoom!

2008-03-11T13:26:00.003-06:00

Mark Evanier is reporting that artist Dave Stevens has died of leukemia at the age of 52.

When I was a kid, my favorite comics store was Haley's Comics in Ft. Collins (which was still in business last time I was up there, on Walnut St. just off of Old Town Square). There were plenty of things to drool over (not literally, of course) in the store - not least of which was a glass display case full of the early issues of pretty much every Silver Age Marvel title. I don't doubt that John, the owner, had bought them brand-new from the newsstand. He had a complete collection of Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtle action figures on display - this being the early days, before the TMNT became over-exposed and over-merchandised. And there was this poster that always caught my eye.

It depicted a guy wearing a leather jacket and a jet-pack, struggling in the clutches of a gigantic monster, so huge that the hand clutching the heroic figure was the only part of the monster you could see. I had no idea who this character was, and it never particularly occurred to me to ask. But I always liked that poster.

In the summer of 1991, Disney released The Rocketeer, and I discovered who the character on that poster was. It was a pretty clear attempt to create a superhero franchise riding on the coattails of Tim Burton's hugely popular Batman film from a couple of years before. It also had a bit of that nostalgic-for-the-old-movie-serials, let's-punch-some-Nazis, Indiana-Jones-ripoff mojo going, too, of course. So, yeah...a movie that combined superheroes with Indiana Jones-style adventure? It should go without saying that I absolutely loved it.

Sadly, I was one of the few. It was a flop, and Disney's expected franchise never took off (no pun intended). Too bad, but the bright side was that the comics stores were stocking the collection of Dave Stevens' original "Rocketeer" strips that summer, whose previous shelf-life had been before my time.

So beautiful! Dave Stevens earned himself a reputation as an incredibly slow artist when it came to comics work, but you can see why. Every single panel is a masterpiece. He's also got a reputation as a cheesecake/pin-up artist, and there's a reason for that, too. The dude could draw women like nobody's business. But he also had a knack for action scenes.

And, well, let's talk design. The Rocketeer isn't exactly a superhero, so it's not exactly a superhero costume. But that jacket is just about the coolest jacket ever. And the helmet - well, the helmet owes a little something to a jetpack-wearing serial character called Commando Cody, but where Cody's helmet is pretty much just a bucket with a few holes cut in it, the Rocketeer's headpiece has style in spades. I mean...well, look at it:

I mean, that thing is just way cool. Some designer at Hasbro certainly thought so, too, and totally ripped off the design for a G.I. Joe character.

Also, "Bitch is the New Black" Is the Dumbest. Line. EVER!

2008-03-10T19:03:00.004-06:00

You know what I'm sick and tired of?

This tired, tired, idiotic line and its variations:

I also don’t buy into the whole “hope is here, and I’ll bring change, yup, I’ll do it, but I’m not telling you how yet, you’ll just have to wait and see” approach. Telling me you’re going to change things and giving me very little to go on to trust you, like any other politician, to do just that and change things for the better is worthless. I need the straight facts and not a sugarcoated feel-good version. I think it’s nice and all that Obama is a wonderful, inspirational speaker, but that’s not enough for me to get his vote. He has plenty of explaining to do on his end for his policies.

(Excerpt from a post by commenter SMD at John Scalzi's blog)

I'm hearing it everywhere these days. You've read it on dozens of blogs and message boards by now, you've heard people saying it in conversation, right? Yeah, the "Obama is the Chosen One Who Will Lead Us To Paradise" meme is getting old. But on the other hand, you just can't claim he's not a candidate with substance. Yeah, he talks about "change" and "hope" and such a lot without getting into policy-wonk shit in his stump speeches. So did Bill Clinton. So did Ronald Reagan. It's just good politico-speak. You know who did give speeches filled with policy-wonkery? Al Gore and John Kerry, and look how well that worked out. I mean, I'm a sucker for a good policy wonk as much as the next lefty intellectual - but that shit just doesn't play to the masses, y'know?

And here's the real thing: it takes all of thirty seconds and a few clicks, and you've got all the substantive platform issues you could possibly want from Barack Obama. Just go to www.barackobama.com, pick whatever your pet cause is from the "Issues" dropdown menu, and you're soaking in it.

Barack Obama on energy policy:

Obama supports implementation of a market-based cap-and-trade system to reduce carbon emissions by the amount scientists say is necessary: 80 percent below 1990 levels by 2050. Obama's cap-and-trade system will require all pollution credits to be auctioned. A 100 percent auction ensures that all polluters pay for every ton of emissions they release, rather than giving these emission rights away to coal and oil companies. Some of the revenue generated by auctioning allowances will be used to support the development of clean energy, to invest in energy efficiency improvements, and to address transition costs, including helping American workers affected by this economic transition.

Barack Obama on foreign policy:

The United States is trapped by the Bush-Cheney approach to diplomacy that refuses to talk to leaders we don't like. Not talking doesn't make us look tough – it makes us look arrogant, it denies us opportunities to make progress, and it makes it harder for America to rally international support for our leadership. On challenges ranging from terrorism to disease, nuclear weapons to climate change, we cannot make progress unless we can draw on strong international support.

Barack Obama on health care:

The Obama plan will create a National Health Insurance Exchange to help individuals who wish to purchase a private insurance plan. The Exchange will act as a watchdog group and help reform the private insurance market by creating rules and standards for participating insurance plans to ensure fairness and to make individual coverage more affordable and accessible. Insurers would have to issue every applicant a policy, and charge fair and stable premiums that will not depend upon health status. The Exchange will require that all the plans offered are at least as generous as the new public plan and have the same standards for quality and efficiency. The Exchange would evaluate plans and make the differences among the plans, including cost of services, public.

Barack Obama on Social Security:

Obama is committed to ensuring Social Security is solvent and viable for the American people, now and in the future. Obama will be honest with the American people about the long-term solvency of Social Security and the ways we can address the shortfall. Obama will protect Social Security benefits for current and future beneficiaries alike. And he does not believe it is necessary or fair to hardworking seniors to raise the retirement age. Obama is strongly opposed to privatizing Social Security.

Obama believes that the first place to look for ways to strengthen Social Security is the payroll tax system. Currently, the Social Security payroll tax applies to only the first $97,500 a worker makes. Obama supports increasing the maximum amount of earnings covered by Social Security and he will work with Congress and the American people to choose a payroll tax reform package that will keep Social Security solvent for at least the next half century.

I think you get the idea. Look, I don't care if you agree with his ideas or not. That's not the point. You may disagree with every single position he holds, you may think he's not the right man for the job, you may think that Hillary is the right man for the job, you may want Hillary to be the one to answer the Batphone when Commissioner Gordon calls at 3 a.m., doesn't matter in the least. The point is that claiming that Obama lacks substance is pure, utter bullshit. His positions on every major issue that confronts the United States of America are right there, easy to find for anyone interested in them.

No Capes!

2008-03-05T14:00:00.003-07:00

Here's an interesting piece by Michael Chabon in the New Yorker, ruminating on the nature and purpose of superhero costumes. And, as Saggypants Spidey here ably demonstrates, in real life, superhero costumes are beyond impractical. They're ludicrous, absurd, and the idea that anyone - possessed of abilities far beyond those of mortal men or not - would venture forth to fight evil wearing such a thing is simply ridiculous. There's a reason why Bryan Singer put his X-Men in black leather (complete with sarcastic, "What would you prefer? Yellow spandex?" joke) and why Tim Burton and Christopher Nolan both put Batman in hi-tech body armor and Joel Shumacher put him in rubber fetishwear. As Chabon points out, Adam West looked every inch the campy joke he was supposed to be in a fairly close approximation of Batman's actual comics costume. And, as both The Incredibles' Edna Mode and Watchmen's Nite Owl pointedly observe, capes, the classic symbol of the superhero costume, are just entirely impractical.

And yet, for all that, superhero costumes are such great fun, and such a part of the superhero experience, that you never really think about how absurd and impractical they are outside of parodies and deconstructionist stuff like the aforementioned The Incredibles and Watchmen. Nolan's Batman Begins gave the Caped Crusader a semi-practical reason to wear his cape - as you might recall, it serves him as a kind of glider as he leaps across the rooftops of Gotham City - but above all, Batman just wouldn't look right without his cape. It became kind of a "thing" for John Byrne and his successors on the Superman books in the late '80s and early '90s to have Superman's cape be blown off in explosions and destroyed in fights - and it was always a little jarring in such scenes to see Superman without his cape.

Wonder Woman, Catwoman, Black Canary and a host of others engage in their various feats of derring-do shod in high-heeled boots, often depicted as four- or five-inch stilettos. Even as a kid, that struck me as odd and made me think of those cheesy Easy Spirit shoe commercials from the '80s that showed women playing basketball in heels. In every horror or action movie ever made that features a foot chase, The Girl slows her escape from the Villain because she has to pause to remove her high-heeled shoes - and yet Wonder Woman is out there kicking ass in the kind of boots I've only ever seen in real life for sale at stores catering to strippers and drag queens on Hollywood Boulevard and Haight Street.

And speaking of footwear, years of tradition dictate that, of course, Clark Kent is always wearing his Superman outfit underneath his mild-mannered everyday clothes. I've always wondered - what does he do with the boots? Take a look at Brandon Routh's boots from Superman Returns. Those are some pretty hefty boots! You're not exactly going to slip a pair of Florsheim wingtips on over those things. You're not going to fold them up and slip them in your pocket. So maybe nobody ever notices that Clark Kent is wearing bright red boots with his off-the-rack JC Penney suits when he goes to work at the Daily Planet.

There's a great scene in Mark Waid and Barry Kitson's criminally-underrated "Justice League: Year One" miniseries where, after a fight, the Flash lectures Black Canary on the impracticality of her high-heeled boots. "Not a very practical feature for a battle suit," says Flash. "You don't say," replies Canary, grabbing hold of one of his head-wing earpieces and giving it a twist. The final panel, a reaction shot of the Flash with his entire cowl twisted around in front of his face, is absolutely priceless.

So many absurdities - and yet no one ever questions or even really thinks about them. They fall into that, "Well, let's just accept it and move on" category alongside Clark Kent's glasses-as-impenetrable-disguise. It's all part of the appeal.

Of Gygax

2008-03-04T22:28:00.004-07:00

As an avowed Great Big Nerd, I would be remiss if I didn't mention the passing of Gary Gygax, widely credited as the creator of Dungeons & Dragons. A lot of the nerd bloggers out there are writing about their early experiences with D&D or gaming in general. Been there, done that, myself.

Here's some wise words from the always-entertaining Christopher Bird on the matter:

And that was how I got into another D&D campaign, and made friends when I really needed them. And the important thing to understand is that my experience is the furthest thing from unique. What Gary Gygax - along with the other patron saints of nerddom, your Roddenberrys and Lucases and Stans-and-Jacks - did was to give the nerds and burnouts and outcasts their very own lingua franca, their own culture. Even though the paper RPG market is diminishing with every year, a market of late-thirtysomethings not replacing themselves with younger players, it lives on in a thousand thousand iterations: World of Warcraft is just the most obvious, but they’re everywhere.

And it's true. There's nothing greater for an adolescent outcast than to discover a place where he (or she) belongs, a group of like minds. And, as Mr. Bird astutely observes, that person need not be the classic nerd archetype. It's really not hard to believe it when Daniel DeSario joins the Geeks for an evening of gaming and actually finds that he's enjoying himself.

The appeal goes beyond the obvious, too. I mean, the appeal to the young nerd of entering a world where he is a warrior or a wizard, someone who wields power in some way, is obvious. But - as Paul La Farge observes and Wil Wheaton adeptly illustrates - there's something else going on there, too. It's the appeal not just of the power fantasy, but also of the collaborative environment. To a lot of kids for whom P.E. was pure torture, the world can really seem like a contest that's somehow rigged against them. You suck at dodgeball, someone else always beats you out for the attentions of the girl you like, you always feel like you're losing at some kind of competition that you didn't sign up for. The let's-be-friends, collaborative environment of D&D, where everybody's fighting the same monsters and working together to explore the dungeon and splitting up the treasure evenly, was the perfect antidote. This was especially true in the early days of D&D, when video games were in their infancy, continuing on through to my era in the late '80s and early '90s, when 2-player NES was as collaborative as video games got.

Today, of course, that function has been largely usurped by the ability to play Halo online and especially the various MMORPGs. But I think there's some truth to the idea that D&D helped to shape all of those things.

So anyway...thanks for your part in a lot of good times over the years, Gary. We're getting the gold together and heading for the local cleric to see about having you raised at the earliest opportunity.

Hey Mr. Driver Man, Don't Be Slow

2008-03-04T19:41:00.004-07:00

Okay, so that was the briefest hiatus of indeterminate length ever...or, as Beck would say, "That was a good drum break!" Hope y'all didn't drop me from your feed readers and such. I was feeling moody yesterday and, well...you don't want the gory details, but the upshot is that I'm going to continue updating sporadically as usual.

---

I imagine every major city probably has That Bus. You know the one - well, if you ever take transit, you do, anyway. In Denver, it's the #15. It runs up and down East Colfax Avenue, and because Colfax is That Street, the 15 is That Bus. You never know what you'll see or who you'll meet when you get on board the 15.

The 15 also happens to be the bus that takes me to school. So yesterday morning, just like every weekday morning, I got on board the 15, and just like every morning, there were no seats. Except one.

The guy sitting on one of the sideways-facing bench seats right near the front says, "Hey, you can sit here, Bro."

"Thanks," I say, taking the offered seat.

"Those are nice pens, I like that kind," he says. It takes me a moment to figure out what he's talking about. When I was standing in front of him, he'd seen the two Pilot G-2 Mini rollerball pens sticking out of my left hip pocket. Yeah, I'm a nerd and I keep pens in my pocket - imagine that.

Ordinarily, I wear headphones on the bus. For every random guy who wants to make polite conversation about pens, there are three or four more who are drunk at 8:00 in the morning or high or insane or some lucky combo platter of all three and yell incoherently in your face. The headphones are a wonderfully convenient signal of, "Go spread your crazy someplace else, Weird Old Homeless Guy." Today, though, my iPod battery is dead, so no headphones.

"Yeah," I say, "I really like these ones." He launches into a long explanation of just how and why the Pilot G-2 is such a great pen, easy to write with, strong, clear line, rubber grip for comfort...can't beat it.

"I could use a pen," he concludes, "I have to fill out a bunch of paperwork today, and I forgot to bring a pen."

"Here,' I reply, handing over one of the pens from my pocket, "why don't you take this one?"

He smiles, says thanks, and pulls a book out of his bag. He uses my his pen to sign his name on the book's title page and hands the book to me. "You ever read this?" he says. At a glance, it appears to be a book full of Christian testimony from prison inmates.

"Nope," I say.

"It's a great book, changed my life," he says. "You should read it!" His body language makes it obvious that he doesn't expect me to give the book back to him. Perhaps he thinks we've just made a transaction - a pen for a book, fair and square. Perhaps he carries around stacks and stacks of Maximum Saints: Make No Little Plans by the Rev. Yong Hui V. McDonald, and presses a copy on everyone he sits with on the bus. Anyway, I nod politely, not quite sure what to do, and leaf through the book.

He explains how he's headed down to some government office or other in order to straighten out an error in some sort of Social Security payment. He's been evicted from his apartment and needs the money in order to secure a warm and dry place to sleep, and get cleaned up so he can find a job. He'd slept the previous night sleeping outdoors. Unlike so many people who offer such stories on the bus, he doesn't seem to be angling for money at all. He's just making conversation.

And to think, I'd left the house grumbling and in a foul mood because I'd had trouble with my new contact lenses that morning.

He gets off the bus at Colfax & Broadway. I wish him luck. He says thanks again for the pen, tells me to read that book, and says, "If I see you on the bus again, maybe I'll have a pen for you!" Over the rest of the ride to school, my mood improves dramatically.

Sometimes it doesn't take much to give your perspective a much-needed adjustment. Sometimes the karmic payoff for something as simple as giving away a pen, one of a dozen or so just like it that I have, is bigger than you might expect.

Adios, Amigos

2008-03-03T18:31:00.001-07:00

We go now from very sporadic updates to an officially announced hiatus of indefinite length. See you in the funny pages, y'all.

Flashmobbery

2008-02-25T14:11:00.002-07:00

As often as not, I find "Flash Mob" kind of stuff to be a bit pretentious, and it's pretty frequently, how you say, stupid. But this one is is kind of cool. Check it out:

Hopes Dashed

2008-02-24T21:38:00.002-07:00

Well, I was hoping that Daniel Day-Lewis would get up on the stage and say, "Well, I know I'm supposed to talk about what an honor it is to be named from such a distinguished group of actors, but all I can really say is, George, Tommy, Johnny, Viggo...I...drink...your...MILKSHAKE!"

Well, maybe I'll just imagine that's what he actually said.

Surviving the Format Wars

2008-02-24T19:06:00.002-07:00

Everybody's been dropping HD DVD like the plague over the last few weeks. So it appears that Blu-ray has won the latest of the format wars. Well, whoop-di-freakin'-do. I guess everybody who's bought an HD DVD player over the last few years is supposed to feel like somebody who bought a Betamax deck in 1980. Of course, I'm of the opinion that anyone who bought a player for either format ought to feel like someone who bought an 8-Track player in 1975.

Don't get me wrong - HD is freakin' awesome. We just got an HDTV set, and we keep marveling at how pretty the picture is. Even with just the standard DVD player connected, the picture is just incredible. And here's the thing - you can get a perfectly lovely DVD player for less than $100. A Blu-ray player is going to set you back probably about $400 at the cheapest. Not to mention that Blu-ray discs cost about twice as much as standard discs.

Now, maybe the higher quality is worth the extra dough. I'm pretty pleased with what we get from the HDTV and the HDMI upconvert on the player, myself. But maybe for the real videophiles out there, there's a real difference and the extra money is worth it.

I figure, though, that by 2015 (at the latest), hard copy of movies is going to be as obsolete as hard copy of music is rapidly becoming. I mean...I bought a couple of CDs at Amoeba Records in Berkeley when we were out there at Christmas, and it occurred to me that it was the first time I'd bought any hard copy music in ages. I honestly can't remember the last CD I bought before I picked up used copies of On My Way by Ben Kweller and Barenaked Ladies Are Men at Christmastime.

As with music, so with movies. "OnDemand" cable and Tivo are becoming ubiquitous. NetFlix is offering more and more movies through its "Watch Instantly" feature. Eventually, rather than a DVD player, Blu-ray or not, you're going to have in the same space a hard drive with an internet connection. And you'll download anything you want from iTunes or something similar, just like we're all doing with music.

So, Blu-ray has won the format war. Congratulations, Sony. You're the king of the dinosaurs. Enjoy it while it lasts.

It Begins: Swift Boat '08

2008-02-23T11:17:00.004-07:00

After sixteen years and untold effort spent transforming Hillary Clinton in the minds of their base from intelligent, moderate, reasonable and rational into the Most Evil Liberal of All Time Who is Out to Destroy All That Makes America Great, the Republican blowhards have got to be kicking themselves. As Obama gains more and more momentum, looking like he's got a real chance to be the nominee, they're scrambling to redirect some of that effort that they put into demonizing Hillary towards Obama.

And y'all, they are grasping at straws, big-time. Here's an AP story on what they've got so far. To sum up: a photo exists of him not holding his hand over his heart during the National Anthem whilst Hillary, Republican Enemy #1, is (see above), and he doesn't wear an American flag pin on his lapel. That's it. That's all the "Obama Hates America" dirt they've got.

I know that to the Fox News-watching portion of the electorate, wearing an American flag pin on your lapel is the height of patriotism. There is no greater expression of love for your country than to pin a tiny replica of the Stars and Stripes to your coat, and because Obama has chosen not to do so, it clearly demonstrates that he HATES AMERICA, and is part of that mysterious, eeeeEEEEEeeeevil cabal known and proven to exist by the Republican party known as the "Blame America First Crowd."

Because Obama didn't put his hand over his heart one time during the National Anthem, he's clearly in league with th' Tararists who Hate Us Because We Have Freedom.

Okay, this isn't quite as absurd as the utterly bizarre e-mail that's been circulating over the last year or so which claims that Obama is a "radical Muslim" and took his oath of office on the Qur'an and refuses to say the Pledge of Allegiance and yadda yadda yadda, hoping to capture gullible, racist idiots who hate and fear Muslims on general principle.

Still, it's ludicrous. The American flag lapel pin his been de rigueur in Washington only since 9/11. And Obama's own statement on the matter was perfectly reasonable and summed up my own feelings on the matter perfectly: "I decided I won't wear that pin on my chest. Instead, I'm going to try to tell the American people what I believe will make this country great and, hopefully, that will be a testimony to my patriotism." Actions speak louder than words, and words and actions both speak far more loudly than fashion statements.

As for the National Anthem thing...well, that was undoubtedly an odd little gaffe on Obama's part. I'm not sure why it didn't occur to him to put his hand on his heart. I mean, I don't usually put my hand on my heart during the Anthem when I'm at a baseball game, but then, I'm not running for President, am I? Of course, I stopped saying the Pledge of Allegience when I was in 9th grade, too, so I'm clearly horrible, evil, awful, unpatriotic and I must HATE AMERICA. Anyway, it seems odd that neither Obama nor any of his staff said, "Hand on heart during National Anthem as a matter of course," but I don't think it proves anything about his patriotism or lack thereof.

But then, I think that maybe patriotism is something more than who can scream "I LOVE AMERICA!" the loudest.

Like a Broken Record

2008-02-22T07:32:00.002-07:00

Sigh...

What does it take? How many times does one have to say "the medium is not the message" before the world at large understands?

Here's the geniuses at CNN on a comics history of the Holocaust produced for German history classrooms by the Anne Frank Center. And of, course, what else could it possibly be but, "How could anyone possibly make something as trivial as a comic book about something as Serious and Important as the Holocaust?"

Gee, I don't know, how could anyone do such a thing?

Hmm, maybe someone could already have done such a thing twenty goddamn years ago. It's called "Maus," and maybe you've heard of it. It won a Pulitzer Fucking Prize in 1992. Millions of junior high and high school students nationwide read it in their classes. Critically acclaimed, widely considered one of the essential pieces of Holocaust literature? Comics about the Holocaust are hardly new, so it seems pretty silly to act like now it's insulting or trivializing.

I'll admit it's a little odd to see it done in Hergé-esque clear line style, like it was "Tintin and the Mystery of Auschwitz" or something, but style ≠ medium any more than medium = message.

Look, y'all, I'll go over it again, and as many times as I have to: comics can be about anything. Comics don't have to be just Batman and Tintin and Uncle Scrooge and whatever other "kid stuff" you suppose they must be. I've said it before and I'll say it again: comics are not an insult. Comics are a way of telling a story, no different than any other. I would have thought that enough people have been over this enough times that we wouldn't need to keep saying it.

I guess I'd be wrong about that.

There's Nothing Quite So Exhilarating...

2008-02-15T07:43:00.004-07:00

...as the every-other-Friday-morning race to get the recycling bin out before the truck comes. Dashing out to wrestle the bin out the back gate in my T-shirt and kitchen clogs in the 16°F morning air wakes me up on these days better than a double espresso. Of course, it's especially exhilarating when I win. Even got the trash out before the garbage truck came, too, so that's just a cherry on top of the sundae.

Behold in Wonder and Awe!

2008-02-14T12:39:00.002-07:00

Man, that looks every bit as awesome as I've been hoping.

It is, of course, worth noting that the trailer for The Phantom Menace looked awesome, too. So there's still plenty of room for letdown here.

Still, the ace in the hole is that, of course, it is Steven Spielberg and not George Lucas in the director's chair. Dude's made two outright stinkers in the last 15 years (both quick, low-effort cash-ins, War of the Worlds and The Lost World). I'm really curious to see what Spielberg as a much older, more mature filmmaker does with the good Dr. Jones.

"This ain't gonna be easy."
"Not as easy as it used to be."

It's Funny 'cuz It's True

2008-02-13T19:12:00.001-07:00

Here's a great one from The Onion.

RIP Roy Scheider

2008-02-10T22:13:00.000-07:00

"You're gonna need a bigger boat."

Created by a Nerd!

2008-02-09T23:11:00.000-07:00

One of the grocery stores we shop at regularly displays packages of Airborne alongside the Emergen-C and Burt's Bees lip balm in the checkout aisles. It always makes me roll my eyes when I see the slogan that appears on many of the packages: "Created by a school teacher!"

Uh, okay, great. Why is that a selling point? I mean, I can kind of see where they're going with it. Children are frequently sick, teachers are exposed to lots of germs...but how, precisely that qualifies a school teacher to create a cold remedy, I'm not sure. It's sort of like if someone were to sell a book called "How to Get Ahead in Business" and the selling point emblazoned on the front cover was, "Written by the guy who empties the trashcan in the boardroom at General Motors!" You can see how there's a vague connection, I mean, there's not many people in that boardroom more often than him, but does that make him someone who ought to be able to tell you how to get ahead in business?

America's Game

2008-02-07T22:38:00.000-07:00

Tonight, we went to see professional lacrosse for the second time. Friends, let me tell you, whether you like sports or like watching guys hit each other with sticks just like guys in shorts with muscular legs, you gotta go to a game. Maybe there's a team near you.

The Colorado Mammoth defeated the Portland Lumberjax (yeah, I know), 15-12 to improve to 5-0 for the season.

As with my previous experience at an NLL game, I came away absolutely flabbergasted that this sport hasn't caught on huge in America. It's fucking awesome, I tell you. You know how people say they'd get more into hockey or soccer if there was more scoring? Well, I give you lacrosse. It's got a lot of the same rules and gameplay as hockey - except that cross-checking and other general whacking of opponents with your stick are considered perfectly legal and often a good idea. But instead of scores of 3-1 or 2-0, teams tend to score in the range of 10 to 15 goals a game. It's fast-paced, high scoring, and quite exciting. And, of course, more than baseball, more than football, more than anything, it's a truly American sport, invented in days of yore by the Iroquois.

There are some weird things about NLL games - they play music on the PA during gameplay, which is very odd. Occasionally, they do an on-floor interview with a player during a break in the action, which is also very odd. The halftime entertainment was, for some reason, a dodgeball game involving members of the local roller derby concern, the Denver RollerDolls. And the less said about "The Wild Bunch," the official Colorado Mammoth cheerleaders, the better.

Still, even with the weirdness, we had a great time. We shall return, for sure.

Even a Blind Squirrel...

2008-02-05T09:09:00.000-07:00

So we did get home from the movie just in time to see the Patriots' final drive and the Giants' improbable answer. So I got to see a great movie and the exciting part of the Super Bowl. And really, had I missed seeing The Pass, I would have kicked myself later on.

I don't know what they're going to call it in the years to come, but if you saw it, you know what I mean when I say The Pass. And they will give that play a name. Actually, I think "The Pass" might stick, as it's one of the few football terms that hasn't already been capitalized, and the moment is iconic enough to deserve it. The Catch is taken - Joe Montana to Dwight Clark to clinch the 1982 NFC Championship game. The Play will forever be Cal's improbable last-second victory over Stanford, also in 1982 ("The band is on the field! He's gonna go into the end zone!"). The Drive is John Elway leading the Denver Broncos 98 yards in the final minutes to send the 1987 AFC Championship to overtime. And Immaculate Reception is also taken, of course, but it could work here, too. I could also see it being called the "Oh My God, Eli Manning Didn't Fuck Up in the Clutch," or the "Wait, Are You Sure That Was Eli Manning?"

Anyway, whatever you decide to call it, it was one of the most amazing things I've ever seen in a football game. And it was bigger and better than The Catch or The Drive or the Immaculate Reception, because it was in the Super Bowl. If you saw The Pass in a sports movie, you would scoff because it seems so cliché: the improbable underdog making their last-ditch effort to come back against the undefeated, seemingly unbeatable opponents (around whom accusations of cheating are swirling, just to make them extra-villainous), they're playing for all the marbles, it's 3rd down on their own 43-yard-line, do or die, the QB drops back, he's sacked for sure, but no, he squirms away from the defenders, heaves a no-hope pass downfield to a receiver who's got a safety draped on him like a blanket, there's no chance, it's going to be intercepted for sure, but somehow, against all odds, the receiver comes down with the ball! Amazing! The underdog's hopes are still alive! If you saw that in a sports movie, you'd roll your eyes and think, "That never happens in real life!" But it did. Here, take a look:

I'm still not going to claim to be wildly thrilled about the New York Giants winning the Super Bowl. But I won't deny a bit of schadenfreude, either. I'm still smarting about the World Series, and there's something really satisfying about seeing the smug asshole Boston sports fans of the world taken down a peg (which is not to say that all Boston sports fans are smug assholes, but those that are have become as bad or worse than the smug asshole New York fans).

The only other part of the Super Bowl I wish I'd seen is the Iron Man trailer.

Bloody Good

2008-02-04T13:53:00.000-07:00

Nelson Muntz once left a screening of The Naked Lunch and proclaimed, "I can think of two things wrong with that title!" Director Paul Thomas Anderson's There Will Be Blood has no such flaw. It's not a blood-soaked Tarantino-esque "exploration of violence" or somesuch where someone is getting shot every two minutes, but the title promises blood, and the movie delivers.

The real story here is Daniel Day-Lewis, who by this point simply must be included on any list of the all-time great screen actors. He's picked up a bucketload of awards so far for his performance here, and a lot of people figure he's the favorite to take home a second Oscar for it, too. After he was outright robbed of the Oscar for his mesmerizing turn as Bill the Butcher in Gangs of New York, it's only fitting that he should win for There Will Be Blood, as he's pulling off a bit of the same trick.

Not that the performance is the same by any means, mind you. But the effect the performance achieved is. Look at it this way: it's much easier to create a compelling screen presence as an actor when you're playing the plucky, lovable underdog with a heart of gold. To wit, back in 1976, Roger Ebert wrote in his review of Rocky that the then-unknown Sylvester Stallone reminded him of a young Marlon Brando. And look how that turned out. It is much harder to create a character who is morally reprehensible, completely unsympathetic, and still be magnetic and appealing to an audience. Day-Lewis did it brilliantly as Bill the Butcher and does it again here. His performance alone makes the movie worth watching.

Of course, the movie has a lot more going for it, too. Paul Dano, best known as Little Miss Sunshine's older brother, plays a creepy revivalist preacher who butts heads with Day-Lewis's Daniel Plainview, and more than holds his own. Together, the two actors turn the movie into a fascinating exploration of the intertwining forces of capitalism and religion that helped to shape the 20th Century (and beyond) in America.

The movie is beautifully shot, as well. A burning oil well which is the centerpiece of one of the film's pivotal sequences is simply staggering, terrifying and beautiful at once. The long, often dialogue-free, sequences of men at work in the oilfields are terrific, as well, showcasing the machinery of the derrick, the men's role as mere cogs in that machine, and the harsh, brutal landscape in which they work. There is an amusing irony in the location; where for years Hollywood has used the desert of Southern California to stand in for any number of landscapes, here Anderson is using the desert of central Texas to stand in for Southern California.

And then there's the ending. It made me think back to the winter of 2000, when I saw Anderson's previous film, Magnolia, with its famously bizarre conclusion. Leaving the theater, I said, "Well, I don't know if that was the worst ending to a movie I've ever seen or the best, but it has the merit of being something I've never seen before." The same could be said here - some say the ending is terrible, some say it's great, but you're not likely to forget it for a long, long time once you've seen it. It's take me a while to process it, but I'm definitely coming down on the "great" side. It is a final confrontation between Day-Lewis and Dano, and it contains virtuoso work from both actors. Day-Lewis especially hits all the right notes. One of his lines from this scene is rapidly becoming a catchphrase, and perfectly eviscerates Dano's character in four seemingly nonsensical words. Another is destined to go down as one of the all-time great closing lines in cinematic history, a grand-slam home run to end the movie on, up there with Scarlett O'Hara's "Tomorrow is another day" and Some Like it Hot's "Well, nobody's perfect."

The Big Game

2008-02-03T11:15:00.000-07:00

I'm always amused to see who ponied up the dough to be an Official Super Bowl sponsor - and thus, is allowed to use the term - and who has to make do with implying "Super Bowl" rather than actually saying it. Like the Planters banner ad on this page: "Watch our commercial during the football game on Feb. 3rd!" (The Super Bowl ad bingo is pretty funny, by the way.) There's always tons of ads from department stores and big-box electronics stores during the off-week between the conference championships and the Super Bowl proclaiming it's time to get a new HDTV "for the Big Game!"

Apparently the NFL - never one to ignore a potential revenue stream - recently tried and failed to trademark the phrase "Big Game," because sports bars were making money off of cover charges for Super Bowl parties - but used "Big Game" because they didn't have permission to use "Super Bowl." Had they succeeded, I would have been quite fascinated to see what even more generic phrase Circuit City would have used in their ads. "Great deals on new HDTVs in time for the Important Professional Sports Contest! Hurry in today!"

Back when I was delivering pizzas, I used to listen to football on the radio a lot on Sunday afternoons, and I recall one company that was running a promotional contest of some sort that they described in their radio ads as, "a chance to win tickets to the biggest football game of the year...in Hawaii!" Which, of course, means that they were giving away tickets to the Pro Bowl without being an official sponsor. It also means that some copywriter out there has a severe misunderstanding of what can reasonably be called "the biggest football game of the year," in Hawaii or otherwise.

As for today's actual "Big Game," this is the least interested I've been in the Big Game in fifteen years. I'm trying to muster the proper moral outrage about the latest allegations of cheating by the New England Patriots, but I just can't do it. Actively hating the Patriots right now would force me to root for the New York Giants, and I just can't do it. This is reminiscent of the 2003 New York Yankees/Florida Marlins World Series in which I just wished that both teams could lose.

The last time I had this little interest in the Big Game was in the Early '90s when the always-loathsome Dallas Cowboys were beating up on the sad-sack, lucky-to-be-there Buffalo Bills. I spent those years going to the movies during the Big Game. One year, I went to see Highlander III, which is one of the three or four worst movies I've ever paid money to see, and it was still a better option than watching the Cowboys win it all.

My only interest in the game in those years was the same as what it is this year: the vague hope that the game would be so lopsided as to erase the 49ers' humiliating 55-10 drubbing of the Denver Broncos from the record books as the most lopsided Big Game in history. And if it's going to happen, this could well be the year, as the latest cheating allegations will have the Patties right back in "Fuck the World" mode and they'll probably be trying to score on every possession mo matter how one-sided the game becomes, and the sad-sack Giants can thank the delightful ineptitude of Wade Phillips and a dumb mistake by Brett Favre for even being in the Big Game.

I'm going to predict Patriots 62, Giants 6.

And I'll read about it in the paper tomorrow to find out if I'm right, as I think we're going to see There Will be Blood this afternoon.

Inviting

2008-02-01T21:09:00.000-07:00

I haven't blogged much about the impending nuptials. But I would like to discuss something wedding-related if I may. And, well, it's my damn blog, so of course I may, and you're going to like it.

When we first started discussing the details of this event, I had what seemed like kind of a cool idea: do the invitation as a comic book. I was excited - I figured I could do it like a digest-sized minicomic (that is, made from 8.5"x11" pages folded in half to make a 5.5"x8.5" booklet). They'd be inexpensive and unique. Em was a little dubious about the idea. She was worried that it would look like a zine - that is, trashy and cheap. I assured her that it wouldn't be like that. It would look really cool, I assured her, and be something that people would really dig when they got it in the mail.

She didn't take all that much convincing, and I think ultimately decided that if the invitations were entirely on my shoulders, it would be one less thing she'd have to do. So during my Thanksgiving break, I started working on them. Once the semester ended in December, I was able to devote a whole lot more time to them. My original intent was to have them finished and ready to be mailed before we left for our month-long California/Italy trip, so we could just drop them in the mailbox when we got home.

It turned out to be a lot more work than that, though. The original artwork was finished and scanned before we left, but I still had to letter it and color it. An opportunity to print them in full color at low cost had presented itself and so (in part to avoid the whole "looks like a cheap photocopied zine" issue) I had to color every page. The problem with this is that I've developed my drawing style with an eye towards black-and-white presentation over the years - which makes coloring the art more time-consuming than it otherwise would be. It became clear very quickly that the project wasn't going to be done before we left for our trip. The new goal became to have them ready to print before we left for Italy. Coloring went slowly - though the pace picked up considerably after I received a brand-new Wacom Bamboo tablet input for Xmas. Still, mightily as I tried, it became clear that the work just wasn't going to be done before New Year's Day, which was the day we flew to Rome.

So I picked it back up when we got back from Italy, and spent the next week coloring and lettering like mad. I got it all finished shortly after our return home, during a long weekend spent at my parents' house. We were finally able to print, fold and staple them on the afternoon of MLK Day. We spent a couple of days addressing envelopes, and then into the mail they went.

Over the last week or so, I've been quite gratified to hear people say that they're "brilliant" and "the best wedding invitations I've ever seen" and suchlike. That's really not what I set out to do. But I do think they came out pretty damn good. Some of you out there have, of course, received one of these in your mailbox. If you're not one of these people, but would like to see 'em, you can take a look here.

The Mind Boggles

2008-01-27T18:39:00.000-07:00

Or maybe I've just got a dirty mind. Just what could Roethlisberger have "requested" of Hines Ward that left them at odds? Something that Tom Brady wouldn't ask for...

Dude, Ben, first rule of being a pro QB: don't proposition your receivers, man. Things are going to be so awkward in the huddle next season...

Could it be Anyone but Fox?

2008-01-27T15:34:00.000-07:00

For years now, viewers have known that for the absolute trashiest, most demeaning, horrible, bottom-of-the-barrel reality shows, Fox is the go-to network. You've got your "Temptation Island," your "Who Wants to Marry a Millionaire," your "Simple Life," and on and on. So it's hard to say that their latest offering represents a new low, exactly, but it certainly meets the high standards set by the Fox Reality Programming Department. "The Moment of Truth" is apparently getting big ratings...but then, millions tune in to watch the horrifying warbling of "American Idol" contestants, so it's safe to say that lots of viewers ≠ high-quality television.

In case you're not familiar with "The Moment of Truth," here's what the Fox website has to say about their latest debasement of humanity: "THE MOMENT OF TRUTH will put participants to the test -- the lie detector test -- to reveal whether or not they are telling the truth for a chance to win half a million dollars. The challenge is simple: answer 21 increasingly personal questions honestly, as determined by a polygraph, and win up to $500,000. This is the only game show where participants know both the questions and the answers before they begin to play. What deep dark secret will someone divulge for hundreds of thousands of dollars?"

So basically, they hook you up to a polygraph machine, ask you "Have you shit your pants in the last six months?" and if you the machine says you've answered honestly, they give you some money for it. The "lie detector" has been a staple of daytime talk shows for years - Maury and Montel love strapping people into those things and asking whether they were cheating on their wives or whatever, but with "The Moment of Truth," the polygraph has hit prime-time.

The thing about the "lie detector," though, is that it's pseudoscience at best. They might as well be airing reality shows based around phrenology, palmistry and astrology. The results of polygraph testing are (generally speaking) inadmissible in courts of law. In 2003, the National Academy of Sciences released a study that showed polygraph testing to be essentially useless, generally about 50% accurate at best. The fact is that I could be strapped into a polygraph machine and claim to be an 87-year-old Chinese woman, that I traveled to Mars in a rowboat and that I invented the steam engine and it's just as likely the polygraph could show a passing result as a failing one.

Here's the best example of what I mean: Aldrich Ames - perhaps the most infamous American traitor this side of Benedict Arnold - spent nearly ten years selling out the CIA to the Soviet Union, from 1985 to his arrest in 1994. During that time, he passed "lie detector" tests not once, but twice. A brilliant Wikipedia author speculates that, "Explanations for this include the possibility that Ames was in fact a sociopath and consequently immune to the polygraph test, or had learned or been trained how to defeat the 'lie detector'." The even more likely explanation for this is that the "lie detector" is utter bullshit and the fact that the CIA even uses polygraphy as any kind of tool is both baffling and horrifying.

But somehow, the idea of the "lie detector" as a machine that will accurately reveal the truth of a subject's statements has caught the public imagination. It's not really that surprising, I guess. Millions of people believe in ESP and UFOs, too.

I guess it's what passes for entertainment when the networks don't have any writers to provide content. They have to fill those empty blocks of time somehow now that they're out of new episodes of "House." But still, one does wish that they wouldn't pander quite so obviously to the slack-jawed morons of the world.

I Wish...

2008-01-26T10:39:00.001-07:00

...that somebody in Italy would do this with our camera. Sigh. If wishes were horses and all that.

Still, it's a great story and it makes me happy that at least somebody out there was reunited with lost vacation photos, even if it isn't us.

N is for Nerd Who Fell Down Stairs

2008-01-22T21:04:00.000-07:00

When traveling by 2nd Class train in Italy, you don't really buy a timed ticket. The ticket machine spits out a ticket that states the city of origin and the destination. This ticket is then usable for some length of time I don't exactly remember - several weeks, anyway. Before you board the train, you're supposed to validate the ticket by running it through a machine in the station that prints the date and time on it. On the train, a conductor might come by and check to make sure that you've got a valid ticket. As I understand it, the fines for riding without a valid ticket are pretty hefty. That's the set-up. Here's the story.

We're in La Spezia, sitting in a freezing-cold train car, waiting to depart for Pisa. We've spent the afternoon hiking between three of the five towns of the Cinque Terre (absolutely gorgeous, by the way, and highly recommended), and thus we're both dead tired, stiff and sore. And I'm sick as a dog, hacking and coughing and generating what seems like gallons of snot every hour. The train is scheduled to depart at 7:03 - and the column labeled "Ritardo" on the big board, "Late" that is, is blank, meaning the train's going to be leaving on time. It's 7:00 on the button when Em turns to me and says, "Hey, did we validate our tickets?"

"Aw, crap," I say, and without a second thought, because the tickets are in my jacket pocket, I jump up and get off the train, thinking there will probably be a ticket-validating machine right out there on the platform next to the train. No dice. I know for sure there's a machine back in the main station, so I dash down the stairs to the tunnel that runs under the tracks. Through the tunnel and up the stairs, tickets are punched. A quick glance reveals that our train is still motionless over on track 6. I head back for the stairs. Right at the top of the stairs, my inherent klutzy nature takes over at exactly the wrong moment, and I trip over my own feet. I'm going down and I know it.

It happens simultaneously in super-slo-mo and incredibly fast. As I'm falling, I'm thinking, "Oh, shit, this is really, really going to suck. I really can't be hurt right now, I have to get back on that train!" Maybe not quite so coherent or linear as this, but these thoughts are running through my head as I fall, alongside an image of Em wondering where the hell I am as the train pulls away, her aboard with all our luggage and no tickets. Then I hit the stairs, it hurts every bit as much as I expected, and thump-thump-thump-thump-thump-thump-thump-thump-thump, I'm at the bottom of the stairs. The pain is excruciating, and I spend a fraction of a second being extremely grateful that I didn't break my damnfool neck or crack my skull open.

The image of the train pulling away with ticketless Em aboard flashes through my head again. I pop up, on my feet with more agility than I could have imagined possible. A few onlookers are staring at me from the top of the stairs with concerned looks on their faces. I give the Big Two Thumbs Up and shout, "I'm OK!" though, looking back, I realize that brushing myself off and saying, "I meant to do that" would have been funnier...well, to me, anyway.

I try to set off at a run back down the tunnel, but quickly realize that, departing train or not, a run just isn't in the cards. I settle for the fastest hobble I can manage. I force myself back up the stairs, each step agony, on the other end. As I emerge on the platform again, Em is hanging out the door of the train watching for me. She was ready to grab the bags and get off if I hadn't made it back in time, of course. The conductor is blowing his whistle; the train is ready to depart. I manage a jog for the last few steps to the train and haul myself aboard.

As we take our seats and the train pulls out of the station, Em points out that I've got a seven-inch rip in the crotch of my pants. Not a popped seam, but an enormous rip in the fabric. I borrow her windbreaker - which she had actually borrowed from QIR - and tie it around my waist like an apron. Not a classy look. In fact, it looks thoroughly idiotic, but it preserves my modesty, such as it is.

We arrive in Pisa over an hour later, and after some hemming and hawing on my part about whether we'll spend the night at the train station waiting for the middle-of-the-night train to Rome, Em decides that I really need to sleep in a bed. I bow to her superior wisdom, even though the cheapest hotel room we can find near the train station is €45.

The bruise on my upper right arm has by now faded to a jaundiced yellow. My left ankle still doesn't feel quite right, and the bruise on my right thigh remains a horrifying and disgusting vivid rainbow of painful, tender flesh.

And the conductor never even checked the damn tickets, anyway.

Well, That Sucks

2008-01-22T19:33:00.000-07:00

You know, I never saw Capote. Couldn't have been less interested in it. I tried to read In Cold Blood once and it bored me silly. I tried to watch the movie version with the same result. Truman Capote is a figure who does not remotely interest me. So I can't really say much about the quality of Philip Seymour Hoffman's Oscar-winning performance in that movie.

Except this: Hoffman's performance must have been a gem, indeed for him to have beaten out Heath Ledger for the Oscar. I'm not going to say it's a joke or a travesty on the order of Crash beating Brokeback Mountain for Best Picture, because Hoffman's a great actor and I don't doubt that his performance was great. But Ledger's work in Brokeback is one of the most moving, nuanced, perfectly realized performances I've ever seen, surely one of the great performances in the history of the American cinema.

Heath Ledger was always reliably good. He made a valiant effort in the utterly ludicrous Mel Gibson vehicle The Patriot, he was thoroughly entertaining in 10 Things I Hate About You in spite of acting opposite the mannequin-like Julia Stiles, and hit all the right notes in the absurdly entertaining A Knight's Tale.

The trailer for the forthcoming The Dark Knight, in which Ledger plays the Joker, suggest that, as usual, the early fanboy rage at the announcement of his casting in the role was entirely misplaced. He seems to fit hand-in-glove in the role, and the movie looks great.

And now he's dead, and that really sucks. Like River Phoenix, he was a talent on the verge of exploding - a great performance in a huge, absurdly commercial movie like The Dark Knight could have done that for him - but we'll never know for sure what would have been.

Guess Who's Back

2008-01-16T19:06:00.000-07:00

I'm sitting in a room in Denver, Colorado and experiencing a weird sense of déjà vu. I'm pretty sure I've been in this room before: the art on the walls all looks very familiar and I feel an odd connection to the DVDs and books on the shelves and the furniture and such. It's hauntingly familiar, like something from a half-remembered dream, or a movie I saw as a small child.

Or at least, that's kind of how it feels to be sitting in my own living room for the first time in nearly a month. We left Denver on the 20th of December, as astute readers may recall, and we've been living as vagabonds for that entire time, sleeping in friends' generously offered beds and guest rooms, in Emily's sisters' old bedroom, in a chain of hotels and creaky, barely tolerable hostel cots.

The "more photos than you can shake a stick at" are, sadly, not forthcoming - a tale of much woe. A few selections from my sketchbook are forthcoming once I can get the pages scanned.

But, in spite of the comedy of errors, Italy was truly magnificent. The food alone made the trip worthwhile. The pizza in Rome was to die for, we shared what was probably the single most perfect serving of lasagne ever and one near-perfect piece of tira misu, and ate lots of really, really good gelato.

Anyway, stick around, y'all, because we're back on schedule here after our brief hiatus. I'll have another post for you tomorrow, maybe even two. And if you'd like to hear (that is, read) more about our trip, keep your eyes on my better half's Pantalones del Fuego, as she's got big plans for trip recapping over the next several days (I think). And I'll be doing some of that my ownself, too.

Happy New Year!

2007-12-31T19:00:00.000-07:00

Y'all, 2007 has been a blast and I hope that those few of you who have stopped by here regularly have enjoyed reading my humble offerings this year as much as I have enjoyed writing them.

We're closing up shop for the next two weeks while my lovely fianceé and myself enjoy a pre-wedding honeymoon in Italy. Check back in sometime roundabout the 16th of January for a complete report on Italian hijinks, more photos than you can shake a stick at and a resumption of your not-quite-daily Nerdiness.

Take it easy, y'all, and try not to trash the place while we're gone.

Twenny Twenny Twenny Four Hours to Go

2007-12-31T01:17:00.000-07:00

There are now fewer than twenty-four hours left in the year 2007 (as I write this in the Pacific time zone).

This time tomorrow, it's going to be all champagne and people mumbling along to "Auld Lang Syne" (because, seriously, does anyone actually know the words to that thing anymore?) and fireworks.

Then, it's going to be hour-long waits for tables at Denny's for passable eggs and sausage and terrible coffee to kill the hangover and fill the awkward silences between people who barely remember what they did with each other after the party. That, and the Rose Parade.

The day after, it's going to be all, "This is the year I lose weight" and "This year, I'm resolving to quit smoking, and this time, I really mean it."

Then it's going to be LSU smoking the Buckeyes in the BCS Title Game.

And then, before you know it, it's going to be December 31, 2008, and you'll be wondering where another year went.

---

In this space last year at this time, you may recall that I made some resolutions. Let's take a look back and see how I did:

I resolve to watch old-school Star Trek reruns whenever possible.

Done, and with very little difficulty.

I resolve to give my D&D players something more interesting to do than fight yet another band of Orcs.

Not done. I had depressingly few opportunities for gaming this year.

I resolve not to bitch too much about Spider-Man 3, no matter how much it sucks.

It sucked about as much as I thought it would, which was some, and I feel I successfully kept my complaints to a minimum, especially compared to the "It's the worst movie ever!" hue and cry raised by the internet nerdosphere.

I resolve to catch up on reading the nerdy essentials I've been meaning to get around to for years, the Arthur C. Clarke, the Kim Stanley Robinson, the Robert Heinlein, and not spend all the time I could be doing that rereading "Watchmen" and old Batman comics.

Well, I don't think I read "Watchmen" cover-to-cover once this year...but I certainly didn't read any Clarke, Robinson or Heinlein cover-to-cover either.

I resolve to incorporate at least 15% more "Simpsons" references into my daily conversation.

Nope, don't think I managed it.

I resolve not to spend September and October getting needlessly excited about the Denver Broncos' Super Bowl chances, and instead skip directly to the inevitable jaded letdown that usually accompanies November and December.

I'd like to extend a heartfelt thanks to the Boys in Predominantly Orange for sucking balls right out of the gate this season, making this one of the easiest resolutions ever to keep.

I resolve to get one o' them Wiis or XBoxes or PlayStations or whatever that the nerds are all excited about these days. Or not.

Nope. Maybe next year.

I resolve to wear more humorous t-shirts.*

Failure. I'm finding very few so-called "humorous" t-shirts to my liking these days, and I go more and more to plain, unadorned ones in a variety of hues.

I resolve to determine once and for all whether the Jedi Knights could beat the Green Lantern Corps in an all-out fight.

What a silly resolution! This one's like the age-old question about how many licks it takes to get to the center of a Tootsie Pop: the world may never know.

I resolve to get a new pair of Chuck Taylors and wear them until they are little more than a loosely connected string of shoe molecules.

Working on it. The ones I bought this year have leather uppers and are proving surprisingly resilient. I think I may wear through the soles before the uppers, which would be a first.

I resolve to be prolific in the creation of webcomics, hilarious cartoons for YouTube distribution, snarky blog entries, and other such things associated with the modern, well-connected nerd.

Webcomics? Sadly, no. Snarky blog entries? Well, you be the judge.

I resolve to see at least one embarrassingly, horrifyingly nerdy movie in a theater this summer, whatever this year's equivalent of Alien vs. Predator might be. If there's more than one to see, so much the better.

Well, I never did make it to Live Free or Die Hard, and I had no idea when I wrote this that this year's equivalent of Alien vs. Predator would, in fact, be Alien vs. Predator: Requiem. But, sadly, I'm leaving the country for two weeks and I suspect that AvP:R will be long gone from theaters by the time I get back.

I resolve to spend many, many hours playing complex boardgames with rulebooks longer than an average Victor Hugo novel.

Done.

I resolve to build a functioning trebuchet at my friend's cabin this summer.

Sigh...maybe next summer.

I resolve to learn the ancient art of Tae Kwan Leap. Boot to the head!

Well, you know what they say: Tae Kwan Leap is not a path to a door, but a road leading neverending unto the horizon. To a true student, a year is as a day.

I resolve, in short, to be the kind of nerd that makes other nerds proud to be nerds.

I can only hope that I have done this.

On the whole, I believe I've accomplished quite a lot, nerdistically speaking, in 2007, and things are looking bright for 2008.

Xmas Classics

2007-12-24T21:43:00.000-07:00

Steve Martin's classic SNL "Christmas Wish" sketch:

The end of the all-time classic TV Christmas special:

And of course, an Old Classic must be followed up with a New Classic:

From the 2nd-place entry on the all-time classic TV Christmas special list:

And finally, a Festivus for the rest of us:

Whether you're all about the Jesus or, like me, a celebrator of American Secular Christmas, merry Christmas, everybody!

Yes, He Is

2007-12-21T19:42:00.000-07:00

The lead of Yahoo!'s story on the father of Jamie Lynn Spears' babydaddy: "He's a 19-year-old pipe layer."

Sometimes, you just gotta let these things speak for themselves...

Don't Be Cruel

2007-12-20T15:11:00.000-07:00

Greetings, one and all, from sunny and (relatively) warm California! Oaktown, represent, yo! Well, Emeryville, represent, yo, anyway. The flight was early as hell but blessedly uneventful.

Do you want to know what is my very favorite thing about flying? Is it the half a Coke and seven pretzels they grudgingly give you? Nope. The seats built for hobbits? Nope. The best thing about any airplane journey is the opportunity to peruse the SkyMall Catalog. Usually, the various SkyMall merchants average a pretty solid 90 out of 100 on the Unintentional Comedy Scale. Hammacher Schlemer tells you about the results of rigorous testing of robotic vacuum cleaners at the "Hammacher Schlemer Institute," one of the most highly respected scientific institutions to be associated with sellers of absurd yuppie gadgetry. Frontgate offers you no fewer than seventeen different ways to store and conceal your garden hose. You can get your favorite NFL, MLB, NCAA or NASCAR logo on everything from wristwatches to bedroom slippers to billiard balls. Every retailer (save, perhaps the fine, highly motivational folks at Successories) offer you a high-tech bed for your dog and a fancy water-circulating drinking fountain for your cat.

But today, my friends, the current issue of SkyMall provided a solid-gold 100 out of 100 on the Unintentional Comedy Scale. The Sharper Image (who else?) is offering, as you can see in the above photo, the "Alive Elvis Animatronic Robot." The description in the catlog describes in exacting and creepy detail how you, the proud owner of this insane way for rich Baby Boomers to throw away their disposable income now that the kids are out of college, can "touch his soft hair and sideburns, stroke his skin, feel his 1968 leather jacket, look into his clear baby blues." So, yeah...the Sharper Image has produced some sort of fucked up Elvis fetish robot, apparently.

Yes, for the low, low price of ~~$299.95~~ - No, it's now sale-priced at just $199.95, a bargain at twice the price! - you can have your own lifelike Elvis robot with a variety of control options. Press "Monologue" on your remote and RoboElvis will, "share moments from his life and times." Choose "Song" and he'll sing one of eight of his many hit songs. Choose "Sing Along," and you can sing along with "The King." And if there's any lingering doubt that this is a fucked up Elvis fetish robot, there's the fourth option, "Alive." If you choose "Alive" on your remote, "Elvis comes to life — checking you out and talking you up."

And because I know you've been wondering, the rumors are true, "you can plug in your iPod® or other audio source to enjoy your own music in sync with Elvis."

Whatever the fuck that means.

I'm Dreaming of a Wet Christmas

2007-12-19T15:17:00.000-07:00

In about ten hours, we're departing for a rainy Christmas. We'll be in northern California, where it snows half an inch every fifteen years or so, but dumps bridge-destroying rains into the Russian River pretty much every year.

Last year, Mle wished for a white Christmas, and she got it in spades. Last year, a few days before the Big Day, we got absolutely dumped on. Two feet of snow in less than 24 hours. This year, I'm wishing for a dry Christmas. Let's hope I get my wish.

Honestly, I couldn't care less about the whole "white Christmas" thing. Some people - from the northeast and upper midwest, I suppose - say it doesn't feel like Christmas unless there's snow. To me, it makes no difference. People are usually surprised to learn that it almost never happens in Colorado. We don't usually start getting heavy snow until later in the season. When we have gotten snow before Christmas, it has often melted off by the time the day itself rolls around. And it almost never actually snows here on 25 December. Snow, no snow, makes no difference to me.

But rain? Rain on Christmas? What the hell?! That just ain't right, man.

I really don't think I'm going to get my wish. And I don't think that the Cat in the Hat is going to show up to liven up the day as I mope around Mle's mom's house, staring gloomily out the window. The World's Wiggliest Dog will be there, which will be good for a few laughs...but that dog needs to be fetched with, and rainy, wet weather will prevent anything more exciting than throwing the wet, slobbery ball ten feet down the hallway, over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over again. If there's a few dryish hours, I'm absolutely taking that dog somewhere where she can do some real fetching.

Still, I don't mean to make it sound all bad, 'cuz it's sure not. Mle's family is great (if ~~vastly~~ a bit louder than my own) and I'm wicked excited about giving Mle her Xmas present. So that's pretty good.

Two Unrelated Things

2007-12-18T16:26:00.000-07:00

First, Ken Jennings notes that yesterday was the 30th anniversary of Elvis Costello (and the Attractions, too, I suppose) being banned for more than a decade from SNL because they decided to play a kickass song instead of a just-okay song:

Second, the nerdier elements of the internet are buzzing with near-orgasmic glee at the news that Peter Jackson and the suits at New Line have settled their lawsuits and feuds and such. The ultimate gist of this news is that Peter Jackson's name will be attached to the forthcoming film adaptation of The Hobbit.

To which I say, settle down, my nerdy brethren, settle down.

I am pleased, I suppose, and I hope that the movie is good. But all the "O frabjuous day, calloo callay" shit is pointless. PJ is not going to be directing it. His name is going to be on it, as "Executive Producer." This means his creative involvement is likely to be essentially nil.

Now, the assumption that only PJ could possibly direct a great (or even merely good) Hobbit movie has always baffled me. The Star Wars movie that is pretty much universally regarded as the best of the bunch is one of the ones that George Lucas didn't direct, after all. I've never understood all the "If Jackson doesn't direct it, I won't see it" bullshit that a certain kind of nerd has been spewing all over the internet for the last couple of years. Sam Raimi or Guillermo del Toro, two names rumored to be possible directors for The Hobbit, could both potentially do a fine job. I'm not bothered by the idea that Jackson won't be directing. I'm just not going to get a huge nerdboner over the news that his name is going to be on the thing. It's sort of akin to the cash-in novels that were released shortly after Isaac Asimov's death that said, in great big letters on the cover, "ISAAC ASIMOV'S ROBOTS PLAYING POKER," and then in teeny-tiny letters down at the bottom, "by Bob Smith," or the line of comics that was released in the mid-'90s with big names attached, titled things like "Neil Gaiman's 'Mr. Hero'," even though Gaiman didn't actually write a single issue.

The only major upside to this news is that it means it's likelier that some of the talent who might have stayed away out of loyalty to PJ will return. I'd like to see Ian McKellan, Hugo Weaving and most especially Andy Serkis reprise their Rings roles.

Oh, and, since I'm sure the casting people are reading this (I mean, why wouldn't they?), I'd just like to mention that Brian Blessed is Thorin Oakenshield. Think about it.

Because I Know a Good Idea When I See One

2007-12-13T22:19:00.001-07:00

An Open Letter to the Doola! of 1995:

Dear Sir,

Listen, kid...it gets better. You know all those people who talk about how you need to appreciate where you are right now because high school is the best time in your life? Yeah, they're every bit as full of shit as you suspect they are. Perhaps even moreso. Trust me, it gets better.

Oh, not right away, to be sure. I'm not gonna lie to you, kid, you're going to spend most of your twenties figuring out what the hell to do with yourself. But you're going to figure it out. You're not going to be an Oscar-winning filmmaker (yet, anyway). But it's really okay. You're going to wind up doing something that you really love, and are really good at. The best part is that you're going to be doing it because it's what you want to do, not because it's what you think will finally make your parents approve of you or what anyone else expects or wants.

Another piece of good news: being a nerd is going to turn out not to be such a bad thing. As it happens, there are a number of great girls out there who actually like guys who are smart and funny and kind of odd. There's even one girl out there who is going to notice you pretty much directly because of all those hours you've spent watching "Monty Python's Flying Circus." Just remember that your two chief weapons are surprise, fear and an almost fanatical devotion to the Pope.

There's going to be at least two totally kick-ass "Spider-Man" movies, two totally kick-ass "X-Men" movies, and a dude from New Zealand is going to make "The Lord of the Rings" as an entire trilogy of movies and it's going to be the most totally kick-ass thing ever to cross the cinema screen.

Just...be patient. Things are going to work out pretty well. You're going to see the country and the world. You're going to hit 30 happy, healthy and less than a year away from getting married to someone amazing. There's some rough patches between now and then, but you're going to ride them out and come out wiser and stronger on the other side. You're going to laugh about all the things that seem like the worst things in the world now, first because you're going to realize how trivial they were, and second because you're going to have to deal with worse before it's all said and done. But getting through the tough times is going to be worth it. Trust me.

XOXOXO,
You + 12

P.S. The good news is that George Lucas is finally going to make Star Wars Episodes I, II and III. The bad news is that...well, I don't think I have the heart to tell you.

Aw, Fuck

2007-12-12T10:02:00.001-07:00

Terry Pratchett, gentleman, scholar, and in the running for the coveted title of Funniest Author Alive, has announced that he has an early-onset form of Alzheimer's.

This just sucks.

Bad things happen to good people, and that's the way of the world, but this just ain't right.

Good Omens, which Pratchett co-wrote with the great Neil Gaiman, is way, way up near the top of any list of my favorite books, genre or otherwise. Not even the much-vaunted Hitchhiker's Guide made me laugh as much as Good Omens. The book opens with the Earth's horoscope based on Bishop James Ussher's famous and absurd down-to-the-minute calculation of the Earth's age (Earth's a Libra). It gets funnier from there, offering the theory that all cassettes left in the car for longer than a fortnight transform into Best of Queen (which means that Satan communicates with his servant Crowley in the voice of Freddy Mercury), presents us with the Other Four ~~Horsemen~~ Motorcyclists of the Apocalypse (including Greivous Bodily Harm, Really Cool People and Treading in Dogshit), and in a bit of characteristically British (but still funny to Americans) humor, explains the dubious origins of things like the M25 Motorway, Value Added Tax and Manchester.

Somehow, even though I've devoured pretty much everything else Gaiman has written, I never got around to reading any more Pratchett until recently. While visiting a bookstore, I mentioned this oversight to my soon-to-be mother-in-law, and she was slightly horrified. She decided to rectify this error on the spot and bought me a copy of Going Postal, one of Pratchett's Discworld novels. I rather liked it, and have since started reading more of his stuff. I'm in the midst of The Colour of Magic, which is his first foray into Discworld, and therefore a bit uneven, but still hilarious and entertaining.

We attended a book signing he did a couple of years ago (where he was the first to sign that battered copy of Good Omens; Gaiman added his signature a month or so later), and he was quite personable and funny and entertaining, just as you'd expect.

Anyway, I'm writing this like it's a eulogy, which it's not. Pratchett is facing his diagnosis with "a mild optimism," and is still certainly more than active and lucid enough to complete several more books.

Still, this sucks.

In Case You Haven't Seen It...

2007-12-12T07:24:00.000-07:00

...here's "American Idol" contestant Kellie Pickler making Miss Teen South Carolina look like Einstein and Jessica Simpson look like Carl Sagan. Watch and weep for the future.

Well, not necessarily so much. The kid at least knows the answer right away and is instantly laughing in disbelief and rolling his eyes as the camera focuses on Miss Pickler's dull, empty, cow-like eyes.

I mean...

I mean...

I'm not saying that everyone ought to know their world capitols, but for FUCK'S SAKE! There's a fine line between "uneducated" and "ignorant," and an even finer one between "ignorant" and "stupid." The finest line of all is between "stupid" and "OH MY GOD, HOW DOES YOUR BRAIN GENERATE ENOUGH ENERGY TO KEEP YOU BREATHING?" Miss Pickler has erased all of these lines.

It's also worth noting that I'm a little amazed that, given the shared accent and region of origin, Jeff Foxworthy was able to resist busting into an impromptu "You might be a redneck..." routine on the spot. His restraint is admirable. Well, at least up until he starts making misogynistic jokes, instead, anyway.

The Social Event of the Season...L'cheyim!

2007-12-08T17:26:00.000-07:00

Better than any Christmas party could possibly be is the annual Hanukkah shindig known as Bubbeh's Latkefest. Our very good friend and former neighbor Julie (aka Bubbeh) and some other Jewish friends put together a whole mess of latkes and a big pot of chicken soup, and engage in the grand Jewish ritual of saying, "Oy, it's another year that we didn't die! Let's eat!" Only a real shlemiel would miss it.

Now, Julie's mighty particular about her latkes and her soup, and doesn't like to let anyone else bring any food. Meshugeh, I know, such a martyr she is! Oy vey! Anyway, I offered to make and bring some challah...and she accepted! It was a mitzvah indeed to be the single, solitary guest at Bubbeh's Latkefest who was allowed to contribute to the meal.

Thus, I spent the afternoon on and off preparing a big mess of jewbread. Mind, I was listening to Handel's Messiah whilst I was doing it...but in my mind, I was singing "Havah nagila" in place of the "Hallelujah"s.

It is with the greatest of pleasure that I report that the two loaves I made were a tremendous hit, getting torn to shreds and ingested by 30 or so people over the course of the evening, along with Bubbeh's fabulous latkes and chicken soup. Oy, batampte, I tell you. Did you ever see such a spread? Moreover, did you ever see such a spread disappear so fast? A kishef macher in the kitchen that Julie is, as long as she can keep the kibbitzers out of the way...

A good time was had by all, though some of us got a little farshnoshket and are paying the price today.

Museums for Dummies

2007-12-05T21:28:00.000-07:00

Listen, y'all, I know times are tough and many of you could use a good laugh.

That's why I'm offering you a link to writer John Scalzi's Flickr set on his trip to the Creation Museum. Take a look - it's funny and frightening and sad all at once. Two of my loyal readers may be more frightened and saddened than others, as this incredible Monument to Pseudoscientific Horseshit is in the same state as they are, less than a two-hour drive from Louisville, in Petersburg, Kentucky.

Anyway, take a look, have a larf.

Presented Without Comment

2007-12-05T11:40:00.000-07:00

You can get some rather vague idea of what's going on here by reading this NY Times story.

RIP Evel

2007-11-30T17:32:00.000-07:00

The world is slightly less awesome today with the passing of Evel Knievel.

Not that I was ever a huge fan, or even an afficionado, or a casual follower. It's just that there's one less dude in the world who made a living out of jumping over shit on his motorcycle, a profession somewhere between pro wrestler and trapeze artist on the internationally-recognized Scale of Awesomity.

One Week

2007-11-27T12:08:00.000-07:00

Once again swiping something I discovered via Christopher Bird over at mightygodking.com, but this is something that most certainly deserves to be seen by my legions of loyal and adoring readers:

One Week's Worth of Food

These are great photos all by themselves. Taken together, they form a fascinating photo essay that touches on some of the ideas I discussed in my Thanksgiving post last week.

Also, it's worth noting that I'm beyond astounded that an American family of four with two teenage boys (the Revis family) didn't have the highest total on the list. Cost of living in Western Europe, I suppose.

ATE

2007-11-26T07:12:00.001-07:00

Erin, world's most dangerous poet, teacher who assigns too much reading and not enough Jimi, bourbon connoisseur, Impressive Clergyman and all-around swell dame, has tagged me, y'all. The mission, should I choose to accept it (and I do): to write about certain topics in blocks of 8. Here's the results:

8 passions in my life:

Comics - even the long underwear stuff that intellectual nerds like me aren't supposed to like
Great breakfasts on Saturday mornings (and Sundays, too)
Creating the perfect pot of chili
The oddball roadside attractions and greasy-spoon diners of America
Art - makin' it, lookin' at it, talkin' about it, thinkin' about it...
Reading the first page/paragraph/sentence of a book that makes you realize right off the bat that it's going to be great
Looking up at the sky and every time coming to the strangely-always-new realization that the universe is far more vast than my mind can possibly comprehend, and I am correspondingly far more tiny than my egotistical human brain can possibly comprehend (all of which happens pretty much every time I do this). Astronomy, in other words
Going along with that last one, sitting around a campfire and drinking ("which really hasn't been topped in several millennia of development of leisure activities." - my brudder).

8 things to do before I die:

Publish my comics (in book form, preferably not at a vanity publisher)
Skydive
Climb Mt. Fuji
Qualify for and run the Boston Marathon
Win a chili cookoff
Own a show-worthy '67 VW Beetle
Appear on "Jeopardy!"
Own a big hunk of ground someplace in Wyoming or Montana

8 things I often say:

"Those're swell!"
"Oh, for fuck's sake..."
"Meep?"
"The waiting game sucks. Let's play Hungry Hungry Hippos!"
"What do you want for dinner?"
"Let's shall."
"You're a kitty!" [or any other of an ever-increasing number of inane things we say to our cats on a regular basis]
"I like pie."

8 books I read recently:

"The Android's Dream" by John Scalzi
"Perfect Girls, Starving Daughters" by Courtney E. Martin
"Book One: Work, 1986-2006" by Chip Kidd
"Empire of Ivory" by Naomi Novik
"The Lies of Locke Lamora" by Scott Lynch
"The Astonishing Adventures of Fanboy and Goth Girl" by Barry Lyga
"A Feast for Crows" by George R.R. Martin
"The Hobbit" by JRR Tolkien (for the millionth time)

8 songs that mean something to me:

"If I Had $1,000,000" by Barenaked Ladies
"Particle Man" by They Might Be Giants
"What Would You Say" by the Dave Matthews Band
"In the Garage" by Weezer
"Watchin' the Wheels" by John Lennon
"Yeah" by Usher
"Uncle John's Band" by the Grateful Dead
"Take it Easy" by the Eagles

8 qualities I look for in a friend:

Sense of humor
Good tippers
Has at least one good drink he or she makes very well or knows a lot about
Likes playing games of some sort - not necessarily D&D or nerdy boardgames with hundreds of parts and thousands of rules, tho those are nice; the ability to play and enjoy poker or gin or cribbage will do just fine
Shares willingly and happily
But on the other hand, doesn't drink all my booze
Is awesome in some way shape or form
Knows the proper response to "I'll be careful..."*

8 people who I’m passing this on to:

Nah.

* That would be, "You'll be dead!" in case you didn't know

For Your Consideration on Thanksgiving Eve

2007-11-21T09:01:00.000-07:00

It is easy to forget about the Pilgrims. They have become just another bit of cultural/historical ephemera, just another bit of standard Americana with no more real meaning than Santa Claus, the Easter Bunny or Ronald McDonald, dour black-and-white clothing and funny buckled shoes serving the same purpose a "Ho ho ho" and a bag of toys or a red afro wig and a set of Golden Arches. The Pilgrims are today as much a gaggle of third-graders in construction paper hats sharing watery fruit punch, carrot sticks and cookies with a matching gaggle of third-graders in construction paper feathered headdresses as a real part of our shared history.

Thanksgiving is about gluttony and football in the year 2007. We'll maybe go once around the table before passing the dark meat and the gravy in order to pay lip-service to the nominal reason for the feast and each say one thing for which we are thankful. But will we really stop and think about it? Or will we just say, "Uh, yeah, friends and family for me, too, pass the stuffing, would you?" and turn back to the TV with the dim hope that the Jets are somehow beating the Cowboys?

We forget that the Pilgrims were not gathering to give thanks for "friends and family," or for Brett Favre's sudden rejuvenation. The Pilgrims were giving thanks for a year in which they didn't die. They were giving thanks to God for their very survival. And not just survival - they were celebrating their good fortune in having more than they needed.

If you know me, you know that this isn't meant as some sort of rose-tinted nostalgia for the Good Old Days When Thanksgiving Meant Something, or a "Why does nobody give thanks to God on Thanksgiving?" polemic, because honestly, I'm as prepared to believe in Santa Claus as I am a God who gives a flying fuck whether human beings are giving thanks to him or not. This is certainly not an anti-football thing, because I'll be watching it, too. This is merely an exhortation for each of us to consider what we really have to be thankful for.

Give thanks for plentiful food, for living in a country where a feast such as the standard Thanksgiving dinner is possible. While you're at it, give thanks for clean, safe drinking water, gallons and gallons of which are to be had just by turning a knob in your kitchen without ever leaving your house.

Give thanks for good health. There is no doubt that the health care system in the United States is a mess and desperately in need of overhaul. On the other hand, we are not dying of typhoid, of cholera, of measles. We live in a world where smallpox, a scourge of mankind throughout history, has been essentially eradicated.

Give thanks for easy and safe travel and communication. You can fly or drive or take the train to see your friends and family on Thanksgiving, or, failing that, you can call them or text them on a phone you carry around in your pocket or email them with a computer you can carry around in a briefcase. With Skype and a $30 camera, you can talk to them for free on what amounts to a "Jetsons"-style video phone.

Give thanks for Black Friday. No, you don't have to like consumerism, you don't have to like the appalling excess, you don't have to like parents having screaming, clawing battles to the death over Cabbage Patch Kids or Power Rangers or Bad Touch Elmo or whatever is the season's "must-have" Christmas toy. But it is worth pausing to remember amongst all the outrageous consumer insanity that will have officially kicked off less than 48 hours from now that we live in a nation where basically anything we need or want is available with a trip to the Jimget or a few clicks on Amazon 24/7.

Millions upon millions around the world don't have these things. They don't know where their next meal is coming from, they have to trek miles from their homes to find drinking water that is reasonably close to safe, they do die of diseases we can't imagine having at all, they are cut off from anyone more than a few miles away, they have almost no material possessions to speak of and no way of acquiring simple things like new clothing or basic medicines and toiletries, much less books and DVDs and iPods and fancy kitchen gadgets.

This isn't meant to be a guilt trip. Nor is it meant to be a blinkered view of the United States of America, in which there is undoubtedly still poverty, hunger, disease, loneliness and isolation and all the rest. This an age in which the gulf between the "Haves" and the "Have-nots" is vast orders of magnitude wider than at any previous point in human history. And despite what we may think when we play keep-up-with-the-Joneses, most of us here in America fall quite squarely on the "Have" side of that gulf, all things considered.

And that is something for which to be truly thankful. We must feel gratitude for our luck to have been born on this side of the gulf and to have all of these things. We must not take them for granted. We feast not just out of gluttony. We feast because we lucky enough to be able to feast. Like the Pilgrims, we feast to celebrate our good fortune.

Now, let's eat.

So THAT's why he's called The Count!

2007-11-16T08:41:00.001-07:00

Found via Mighty God King: A Sesame Street video in which no rock stars from Athens, GA were harmed.

Top Five - Film This Book!

2007-11-13T21:27:00.000-07:00

The Onion A.V. Club offers 21 good books that need to be great films...like, now (and while you're there, check out 20 Good Books Made Into Not-so-Good Movies), some of which I nodded in agreement with (e.g. The Time Traveler's Wife, which is kind of cheating because it's already in production with Eric Bana and Rachel McAdams in the leads, and Don Rosa's The Life and Times of Scrooge McDuck), some of which I wondered how they think anyone could possibly make a good movie from (e.g. Jonathan Strange & Mr. Norrell, a great, brilliant, wonderful book which is also the textbook definition of "unfilmable" if anything is, and A Heartbreaking Work of Staggering Genius, another great book that is great largely because of the unique voice of Dave Eggers, which again doesn't really seem to translate to film).

Anyway...here's a few additions to that list of my own:

1. Good Omens by Neil Gaiman and Terry Pratchett: Terry Gilliam has been trying to get an adaptation of this off the ground for years. I don't suppose it's really all that surprising that a movie that would draw the predictable outcry from the usual suspects about boycotts and how Hollywood has no respect for Christians and how it's a sign that Christians are a persecuted minority in this country can't get funding. Still, the potential exists here for something that's smart, exciting and funny all at once. I've long imagined John Cleese as Aziraphale and Robert Carlyle as Crowley, though lately it's occurred to me that it seems like a perfect opportunity to re-team Stephen Fry (Aziraphale) and Hugh Laurie (Crowley).

2. The Amazing Adventures of Kavalier and Clay by Michael Chabon: This is supposedly in the works as well, helmed by Stephen Daldry, director of Billy Elliot and The Hours. I'll admit this one is a tough nut to crack, in cinematic terms. There's not all that much of a plot, but it's dense and complex in terms of characterization. The easy way out is "Poor kids make good with comic books," but there's so much more going on here. Casting will be a bear as well - to do it right, you've got to get a couple of kids around 18-20 years old for the leads. And not The CW/"Gossip Girl"-types, either. David Krumholz would have been perfect as Sammy a few years back, but he's far too old now. A header on an IMDB message board posting offers this nugget of joy: "How about Zach Braff as Joe Kavalier?", which made me throw up in my mouth a little.

3. His Majesty's Dragon by Naomi Novik: Peter Jackson's company has optioned this series, which seems like a good fit. I hope it actually gets made. The story is thoroughly cinematic, and it would be a great opportunity for the Weta Digital artists to go nuts, creating dragons of all sizes and descriptions. It could be like Master and Commander: The Far Side of the World, only with a much better title (and seriously, that's a great title, y'all). Sequels are built-in, as there's already three more books in the series with at least one more on the way - and they only get deeper, better and more exciting as the books go on. It's a shame that Ioan Gruffudd has already played Horatio Hornblower, because he'd be about dead perfect as Capt. Will Laurence.

4. The Dark Knight Returns by Frank Miller: Some of the things I've heard about The Dark Knight, next summer's Batman Begins sequel, lead me to believe that this is the ultimate goal that Christopher Nolan and David Goyer have in mind, not least of which is the title. If so...how frickin' awesome would that be? It's got its problems, no doubt. The studio might balk at the R-rating some of the more explicit violence would assuredly draw...but that could be toned down to a nice PG-13 level. And they might not be thrilled with the way Superman, one of their other franchise heroes, kinda-sorta plays the part of a villain in this story. Still...a nerd can dream, right? I think Kurt Russell in a sort of Snake Plisskin-ish mode could probably do justice to cranky old Batman. Throw in a cameo appearance from David Letterman, and you've got it made.

5. Conan by Robert E. Howard: I believe that the Governor of California's original turn as Conan is generally a bit underrated. That said, you can't tell me it's not high time for a new, truly great Conan movie. A movie that gives us a Conan who is cunning, as shrewd and quick-witted as he is strong and handy with a blade, rather than the monosyllabic goon in previous adaptations. Howard's Conan is superstitious and mistrustful of cities and "civilized" life...but he's not stupid. "The Tower of the Elephant" might be a little too far on the weird side for a mass audience to accept - but why not borrow the good bits from "The God in the Bowl," "Rogues in the House" and "Red Nails"? Instead of some generic warrior woman or helpless princess, why not give us Belit, Queen of the Black Coast as Conan's love interest? Why not give us that long-promised "other story" about how Conan came to be King of Aquilonia by his own hand? Why not give us a Conan movie with a hero who can actually deliver dialogue instead of grunting in a heavy German accent? Find an actor who is strong and athletic, but not just another body builder. Finally pit him against Thoth-Amon, who fans of the stories and the comics have been dying to see on-screen for ages and ages, perhaps. Whaddaya say, Hollywood?

Like a Sturgeon

2007-11-09T17:27:00.000-07:00

The Hollywood writers have been on strike for nearly a week now. It has been a subject of much discussion on this here internet, unsurprisingly. There have been many displays of support, an awful lot of questions, and no shortage of pure stupidity.

This stupidity has run the gamut, from what you normally see during just about any kind of strike (i.e., pure, unadulterated anti-union stupidity (because, you see, unions are useless in this day and age, not to mention being for-all-intents-and-purposes Communism, and apparently the Powers that Be are pretty likely to give their employees a fair shake out of the goodness of their shriveled, blackened hearts, and, "Why, I work in [x modern white-collar industry] and we don't have a union and we don't need one, so obviously no one needs a union!")) to the kind of stupidity that's really more ignorance of the real issues involved in this particular strike than stupidity per se (i.e., "Does a [insert completely unrelated and dissimilar job or profession] get paid extra every time someone buys [product or service produced by completely unrelated and dissimilar industry]?").

The kind of stupidity that really blows my mind, though, is the kind where someone makes jokes like "Hollywood writers are on strike...how can anyone tell?" or just purely idiotic comments like, "How can they claim they deserve more money when they produce dreck like [insert name of phenomenally uncreative movie or television show]?"

Here's why that argument bugs me so much: Yeah, there's a lot of crap coming out of Hollywood right now, from terrible TV shows like "Two and a Half Men" and all forty of CBS's iterations of "Science Cops" to wretched movies like Shrek 3 and Transformers. The thing about that, though, is that there has always been a lot of crap coming out of Hollywood, and there always will be a lot of crap coming out of Hollywood. Movies have been shining gems surrounded by manure for as long as there have been movies. Television has been a few bright oases in the midst of Newton Minnow's "vast wasteland" for as long as there has been television. That's just the way it works.

We think of the 1930s and '40s as the Golden Age for American Cinema, and I'm not going to say it wasn't. But when we think of movies from that era, we think of The Bride of Frankenstein, The Wizard of Oz, Gone With the Wind, Casablanca, The Adventures of Robin Hood, Citizen Kane, you know...the stuff that has (so far) stood the test of time, the stuff that people still watch sixty or seventy years later. It's not that Hollywood wasn't producing crap at the time - it's that nobody remembers the crap because nobody's watching it anymore.

There's a similar perception about television. People still fondly remember and still watch "M*A*S*H" all the time. As long as there's television, you'll probably be able to find an episode of "M*A*S*H" airing on some channel somewhere 24/7. Same with "Cheers." But "M*A*S*H" and "Cheers" were surrounded by truly horrendous shows that are remembered now only as, "Wow, that show sucked," and in another twenty years won't be remembered at all. Case in point - as Boomer/Gen-X nostalgia fades over the years, do you really think anyone is going to remember "The Brady Bunch"?

It's called Sturgeon's Law, coined by science fiction author Theodore Sturgeon. He was defending his genre from its reputation as "that 'Buck Rogers' stuff." His defense? "It's true that 90% of science fiction is crap. But then, 90% of everything is crap." To make an analogy, for every one Mozart composing beautiful and timeless music at any given time, there's at least nine Salieris out there composing utter crap.*

90% of everything is crap. Words to live by. Television and movies weren't better in eras gone by. You've got the same 9:1 ratio of crap to non-crap today as you had in the Good Old Days. Always has been, always will be. And it's certainly no reason to deny the people who work hard on churning it out a fair share of the profits that crap earns.

*It is my understanding that, in using Antonio Salieri as his figure of envy and inadequacy in Amadeus, Peter Schaffer created an unfair impression of Salieri and his work for modern audiences. Be that as it may, I think you get my point.

Boston Red Sox Yankees Junior Logo

2007-11-07T21:51:00.000-07:00

Here's the new Boston Red Sox/Yankees Junior logo I wanted to make a couple of weeks ago but didn't have the energy to do. Should be a big seller on T-shirts in Beantown, no?

Up next, "Battling Seizure Robots"

2007-11-07T20:38:00.000-07:00

Okay, so this was featured on the Yahoo front page the other day, so you may have seen it. But if you haven't, you really owe it to yourself to check it out. It's yet another piece of proof that, though Americans may have invented television, the Japanese perfected it.

Enjoy.

Movie Meme

2007-11-06T21:28:00.000-07:00

I don't go in for memes much, but I like writing things about movies, so I'm going to do so, and you're going to like it.

(From Sara via Mle, in case you didn't know)

Movies I've seen are bolded, movies I've seen more than once are *asterisked, movies I couldn't finish are ~~struck thru~~.

AFI Top 100 Films

1. Citizen Kane* (1941): I wouldn't say it was my favorite movie, but it's definitely Top Ten, and I honestly believe it soundly deserves its reputation as the Greatest Movie of All Time. Brilliant, innovative and every bit as good today as in '41.
2. The Godfather* (1972): I think my testicles would be revoked if I didn't love this movie.
3. Casablanca* (1942): The Hollywood studio system at its apex. Also, Ingrid Bergman? Appears in the dictionary beside the phrase, "Drop Dead Gorgeous."
4. Raging Bull(1980): I don't think this one is even Scorsese's best, but a great movie nevertheless.
5. Singin’ in the Rain (1952): Earns its title as the best Hollywood musical over its nearest competitor by a country mile.
6. Gone with the Wind* (1939): Seeing a beautifully restored print of this on the big screen for the 60th Anniversary re-release in '99 was absolutely awesome.
7. Lawrence of Arabia* (1962): I like this movie in any format, but ultimately this is one that really only works on a big screen.
8. Schindler’s List (1993): I'm with Mle on this one, though I did actually buy it on VHS back when I was working at Ballbuster Video, being a huge Spielberg fan. Never actually watched the tape, though.
9. Vertigo* (1958): One of the best directors ever in his prime.
10. The Wizard of Oz* (1939): One of a very small handful of movies that absolutely everybody has seen.
11. City Lights (1931): I know film buffs are supposed to love Chaplin, but I just can't get into him for some reason.
12. The Searchers* (1956): Unavoidable, as this was one that my Dad would watch basically anytime it appeared on AMC when I was a kid, which was usually two or three times a year. And well worth the watching, too.
13. Star Wars* (1977): Second on this list of the small handful of movies that absolutely everybody has seen.
14. Psycho (1960): I imagine what my opinion of this movie might have been had I seen this without knowing the Shower Scene was coming.
15. Sunset Blvd. (1950): Ah, Billy Wilder...maybe the best writer ever in Hollywood. "I'm still big! The pictures got small!" = a lifetime of delusion and psychosis summed up in seven words.
16. 2001: A Space Odyssey* (1968): Took me a few tries to get into it, but once I did, endlessly rewarding.
17. The Graduate (1967): Has not aged well.
18. The General (1927): I like Keaton better than Chaplin.
19. On the Waterfront (1954): To borrow a line, "I know."
20. It’s a Wonderful Life (1946): Third on the list from the Small Handful.
21. Chinatown (1974): People usually talk about the writing and the direction, but often ignore the fact that Jack Nicholson is just awesome here.
22. Some Like It Hot (1959): Billy Wilder again. That the same guy is behind this as Sunset Blvd. is pretty amazing.
23. The Grapes of Wrath (1940): Good, not great in my opinion. Not as good as the book, as they say.
24. E.T. The Extraterrestrial* (1982): Fifth on the list from the Small Handful
25. To Kill a Mockingbird* (1962): By contrast, every bit as good as the book, and maybe better.
26. Mr. Smith Goes to Washington (1939)
27. High Noon (1952)
28. All About Eve (1950)
29. Double Indemnity (1944)
30. Apocalypse Now (1979): Maybe it's just me, but I find this one highly over-rated. And it collapses under its own weight (and Marlon Brando's) during the last act.
31. The Maltese Falcon (1941): Certainly my favorite hard-boiled detective movie.
32. The Godfather Part II* (1974): Unlike most, I wouldn't say it's as good or better than Part I. Still great, though.
33. One Flew Over the Cuckoo’s Nest (1975): Overrated - but Nicholson is awesome.
34. Snow White and the Seven Dwarfs (1937): I know I've seen it all the way through, but my memories of it are vague.
35. Annie Hall (1977): Never been a Woody Allen fan.
36. The Bridge on the River Kwai* (1957): A revelation to me after a lifetime of seeing Alec Guinness only as Obi-Wan Kenobi.
37. The Best Years of Our Lives (1946)
38. The Treasure of the Sierra Madre (1948)
39. Dr. Strangelove* (1964): Peter Sellers = Comedy God.
40. The Sound of Music* (1965): One of only a few movie adaptations I can think of that improves on the stage version.
41. King Kong* (1933): I loved Peter Jackson's remake, but this packs more into 90 minutes than Jackson did in 180.
42. Bonnie and Clyde (1967): Violence as poetry.
43. Midnight Cowboy (1969): I think the reason this movie left Mle feeling sad is because it's an incredibly depressing story. But that's just a guess.
44. The Philadelphia Story (1940)
45. Shane (1953): Iconic, and did as much by itself to mythologize the American West as the entire career of John Wayne.
46. It Happened One Night (1934)
47. A Streetcar Named Desire (1951)
48. Rear Window (1954)
49. Intolerance (1916): I suspect this is here as a placeholder for Griffith's Birth of a Nation, which voters were probably uncomfortable with.
50. Lord of the Rings : The Fellowship of the Ring* (2001): I seem to have a vague recollection of having seen this one a time or two.
51. West Side Story* (1961): Much like The Sound of Music, improves upon its source material.
52. Taxi Driver* (1976): And here's Scorsese's best, only 48 spots lower on the list than Raging Bull.
53. Deer Hunter, The (1978)
54. M*A*S*H (1970): Has not aged well.
55. North by Northwest* (1959): Without question the best of Hitchcock's "Wrong Man" movies, and by far my favorite of his entire filmography.
56. Jaws* (1975): "You're gonna need a bigger boat."
57. Rocky* (1976): Tends to be underrated because it produced so many awful sequels.
58. The Gold Rush (1925)
59. Nashville (1975): I've tried to like Robert Altman, but he just leaves me cold.
60. Duck Soup* (1933): The mirror scene is the funniest thing I've ever seen in my life.
61. Sullivan’s Travels (1941): Deserves praise if nothing else for giving us "O Brother, Where Art Thou?"
62. American Graffiti* (1973): Like "Happy Days," only good.
63. Cabaret (1972): One of a very few films that I had never seen that Mle showed to me - role reversal.
64. Network (1976)
65. The African Queen* (1951): See comments on The Searchers above.
66. Raiders of the Lost Ark* (1981): I was Indiana Jones for Halloween this year.
67. Who’s Afraid of Virginia Woolf? (1966)
68. Unforgiven (1992): Hard to believe, but this isn't even Clint Eastwood's best.
69. Tootsie (1982)
70. A Clockwork Orange (1971): Great movie, but the Alex/Droog Halloween costume is way past played out. It must stop.
71. Saving Private Ryan* (1998): Take away the stupid framing sequence, and you've got something truly incredible.
72. The Shawshank Redemption* (1994): Sixth on the list of the Small Handful.
73. Butch Cassidy and the Sundance Kid* (1969): The movie is still great...but Robert Redford has not aged well.
74. The Silence of the Lambs* (1991): Much like Rocky, it's becoming hard to remember how great this movie is as Hannibal Lecter has over the years become more and more of a cartoonish slasher, indistinguishable from Freddy Krueger or Jason Voorhees.
75. In the Heat of the Night* (1967): Everyone talks about Sidney Poitier, but Rod Steiger holds his own opposite him, which is no mean feat.
76. Forrest Gump* (1994): Say what you will, but Tom Hanks inhabits this character.
77. All the President’s Men (1976)
78. ~~Modern Times~~ (1936)
79. The Wild Bunch (1969): That it's ranked lower on this list than Unforgiven - which owes this movie a pretty big debt - seems kind of odd to me.
80. The Apartment (1960)
81. Spartacus* (1960): Worth the price of admission just to hear Tony Curtis describing himself as "a tellah of tales from laaaawn gago."
82. Sunrise (1927)
83. Titanic* (1997): Final movie on the list from the small handful; not as great as the hype but also not as bad as the backlash. And Kate Winslet? Appears in the dictionary alongside Ingrid Bergman under, "Drop Dead Gorgeous."
84. Easy Rider (1969): Has not aged well.
85. A Night at the Opera (1935): I would never willingly subject myself to the Three Stooges...but I'll watch the Marx Brothers all day long.
86. Platoon (1986): The only Vietnam movie worth a damn, if you ask me.
87. 12 Angry Men (1957)
88. Bringing Up Baby (1938)
89. The Sixth Sense (1999): I figured out The Secret about halfway through. Still liked it.
90. Swing Time (1936)
91. Sophie’s Choice (1982)
92. Goodfellas* (1990): Inspired one of the less good bits of "Animaniacs."
93. The French Connection (1971): Has not aged well.
94. Pulp Fiction* (1994): A couple of sentences cannot adequately sum up my relationship (yes, relationship) with this movie. Remind me to tell you about it sometime.
95. The Last Picture Show (1971)
96. Do the Right Thing* (1989): Criminally underrated by being this low on the list. Should be Top Ten for sure. One of the best movies ever.
97. Blade Runner (1982): "He say you Brade Runner!"
98. Yankee Doodle Dandy (1942)
99. Toy Story* (1995): Very good, but doesn't really stand up to Finding Nemo, The Incredibles and Ratatouille.
100. Ben-Hur* (1959): The opposite of the Little Old Lady from Pasadena - it makes a Roman chariot race look like the Indy 500.

Remember, Remember

2007-11-05T19:13:00.000-07:00

Remember, remember, the 5th of November
The Gunpowder Treason and plot ;
I know of no reason why Gunpowder Treason
Should ever be forgot.

Guy Fawkes, Guy Fawkes,
'Twas his intent.
To blow up the King and the Parliament.
Three score barrels of powder below.
Poor old England to overthrow.
By God's providence he was catch'd,
With a dark lantern and burning match

Holloa boys, Holloa boys, let the bells ring
Holloa boys, Holloa boys, God save the King!

Hip hip Hoorah !
Hip hip Hoorah !

A penny loaf to feed ol'Pope,
A farthing cheese to choke him.
A pint of beer to rinse it down,
A faggot of sticks to burn him.
Burn him in a tub of tar,'
Burn him like a blazing star.
Burn his body from his head,
Then we'll say: ol'Pope is dead.

I know it's a British thing, but, hey...happy Guy Fawkes Day, everybody.

And remember, V for Vendetta is about a million times better as a comic than a movie.

44-7?

2007-11-04T15:56:00.001-07:00

Sigh...

It's a tough year to be a sports fan in Colorado. The Rockies got crushed in humiliating fashion in the World Series. The Nuggets have a shot, but look as iffy as ever. The only thing worse in the state's collegiate athletics scene than the Colorado Buffaloes' thoroughly mediocre football is the Colorado State Rams' thoroughly awful football. Okay, the Avalanche have started strong, but three quarters of the country doesn't notice or care what's going on in the world of professional ice hockey anyway. Besides, they look like a potential playoff team, but not like a potential Stanley Cup team.

And then there's the Broncos. The much-beloved Broncos, always #1 in the hearts of every Colorado sports fan, the source of the Orange-and-Blue blood of diehards up and down the Front Range, all across the Centennial State and throughout the Rocky Mountain region.

And they just flat-out suck.

They got walloped today, scoring only one garbage-time TD as the 4th quarter expired. They got beat down by the Detroit Lions, of all teams, an ass-kicking that you just can't sugar-coat.

And this is the second time this season it's happened, after a losing in similarly ludicrous fashion, 41-3, to the San Diego Chargers in week 5.

To be fair, Broncos' starting QB Jay Cutler left the game with an injury early in the 2nd quarter, which is bound to hamper the offensive scheme and execution of any football team.

To be honest as well as fair, though, there has been no evidence to date that Jay Cutler is anything more than a moderately skilled journeyman QB.

Not that you'll convince anyone in the Denver media of that. Broncos radio play-by-play man Dave Logan said as Culter was headed to the locker room after the injury, "This could be an absolute disaster for the Broncos." Hearing this, I'm thinking, "How's that, exactly?" How is there any discernable difference between Cutler and backup QB Patrick Ramsey? What does Cutler contribute that Ramsey can't? A disaster is, "Peyton Manning is injured early in the 2nd quarter and Jim Sorgi has to take over." A disaster is not, "The fair-to-middling starter is injured and the probably-middling-at-best backup QB has to take over."

The true disaster is this Broncos season. I've watched a lot of different Broncos teams over the years. They've ranged from perhaps-among-the-best-teams-ever (The 14-2 1998 repeat Super Bowl winner) to not good (the 6-10 1999 post-Elway-retirement, Terrell Davis' career-ending-injury fiasco season). I've never seen a Broncos team this bad, one to be ranked among the worst in the NFL.

They've won three games this season, squeaking each one out on last-second field goals. They still have to play in Kansas City, in Oakland and in San Diego, none of which they're likely to win. They're going to lose to Tennessee at home, could easily lose to Kansas City at home, and are pretty likely to lose on the road to Chicago and Houston. They might have a decent shot at beating Minnesota at home to close out the season. They could easily finish 4-12, which would be only their 7th losing season since the NFL/AFL merger in 1970. Of course, they could also easily finish 3-13, which would be their lowest win total since 1967. The point is, this is a historically bad Broncos team.

All I've got to keep me interested in football this season is the vague hope that someone will stop the New England Fucking Patriots (that team's new official name) from winning the Super Bowl, so as to bring a couple of months of blissful silence from the smug, self-satisfied asshole Boston sports fans of the world. On the other hand, it would be nice in its way to see the Patriots go undefeated all the way through, so that we never, ever again have to endure footage on "SportsCenter" of the 1972 Miami Fucking Dolphins (long since that team's official name) having another goddamn champagne toast.

Grr...I'm grasping at straws here. As far as I'm concerned, this season is pretty much over.

Because I Have No Other Demands On My Time...

2007-10-31T22:18:00.000-06:00

I have done something highly illogical.

I signed up for National Novel Writing Month.

What are the odds that I'll actually manage to write 1,600 words a day for the next thirty days in between all the other things placing demands on my time?

Probably pretty much nil.

But I figured, "What the heck?" Maybe getting emails from the NaNoWriMo people will motivate me to do it. Maybe I'll actually write a novel this month.

Maybe. I'll keep you posted.

I Bet Those Grapes Were Fucking Delicious

2007-10-29T11:08:00.001-06:00

As I expected, a Boston fan - the estimable Yank in Texas - has accused me of being a sore loser after my previous post.

I resent that. Really. In any contest, whether as a participant or an interested spectator, I pride myself on being a good sport. I feel I went out of my way not to be a sore loser, to simply and honestly express the way I was feeling after what were up until now my two favorite teams played one another in the World Series. Back in 2004, I was rooting for the Red Sox to win when I went to see them at Coors Field, because in deciding between two teams I loved, I chose the one that was in the midst of a Wild Card chase and had a shot at the division title, the playoffs and the World Series over the one that was wallowing in craptacularity and headed for its third straight 4th-place finish in the NL West.

In the days leading up to the Series, I really expected that if the Red Sox won, I would come away from it thinking, "Well, the Rockies may have lost, but at least the Sox won." Over the course of five days and four games, I really surprised myself by coming to despise Boston (the team, not the town, which remains awesome) and, to borrow a line from an e-mail from my brother, "wishing them ill."

To be a sore loser is to say, "We deserved to win" and make excuses for why we didn't. To say that the grapes were probably sour anyway, as it were. Eric Byrnes was being a sore loser during the NLCS when he griped about how the D'Backs were outplaying the Rockies but still losing.

The Rockies were outclassed and outplayed by a vastly superior baseball team, and I'll make no bones about it. Yankees North were the better team by far and deserved the win.

But they're a long way from the feel-good story of 2004. There's nothing to feel good about here, no breakthrough for the long-suffering underdog, no triumph for a team that did anything more noteworthy than pay more than anybody else. For fuck's sake, they paid $3 Million less than the Rockies' entire payroll for the season just for the right to talk to Dice-K, and that number doesn't even figure into their actual payroll total.

There's an immense dishonesty in the way Boston continues to sell itself - and, more to the point, the way their fans continue to see the team - as the Anti-Yankees, when nothing could be further from the truth. The ghosts of the past have all been exorcised, whether you were a believer in the Curse of the Bambino or just one who marveled at how one team could find a way to bungle every World Series appearance for 86 years. Boston fans will no doubt continue to see their team as a scrappy underdog always struggling to beat the Evil Empire from the Bronx, but it just ain't so. In their desperation to beat the Yankees, the Red Sox have become the Yankees. Nietzsche said, "Whoever would fight with monsters should see to it that in the process he does not become a monster." Boston failed that test; they're the Evil Empire, too, now, just as much as Steinbrenner's pinstripes.

I congratulate them for winning the Series, fair and square. But I can't be a fan anymore. That's all. No sour grapes, no protests that they didn't deserve to win, no accusations of cheating. Just a sad realization that a team I loved doesn't exist anymore.

A Pair of Open Letters

2007-10-27T20:50:00.001-06:00

Dear Colorado Rockies,

Let me start by saying that you broke my heart. I am, however, prepared to forgive you. That's kind of something you had to learn growing up in Colorado in the late '80s and early '90s. Watching John Elway, who you love like he's a member of your own family, getting his butt kicked in three Super Bowls in four years, you learn to deal with heartbreak and you learn to forgive. Here's the thing, though: I'm only currently going so far as to be prepared to forgive you. You guys have to meet me halfway.

Look, it was a great season by any measure, far greater than anyone could possibly have expected or predicted back in April. Very few people in Colorado thought you'd even be a serious player in the Wild Card chase, let alone win the damn thing. If anyone says they thought you'd even win a round in the playoffs back in April, much less win the NL pennant, they're lying like a no-legged dog. But you proved everyone wrong and made it all the way to the World Series. Sure, you played like the goddamn Bad News Bears once you got there, but getting there was a worthy achievement all by itself.

After all, it's not like you're the New York Mets or the Los Angeles Dodgers, much less the New York Yankees or the Boston...well, we'll get to Boston (see below). You had the 5th-lowest total payroll in Major League Baseball this year. You made the series with a roster full of former Asheville Tourists, Modesto Nuts and Tulsa Drillers. That's awesome. In the era where the Hired Gun is king in baseball and we're all essentially rooting for laundry, a roster full of homegrown talent like Helton, Holliday, Tulo and Francis is the cat's pajamas, man.

I probably don't really have any right to be unhappy with your performance in the World Series. You got some bad breaks and you're at an inherent disadvantage because you're representing a league that still plays real baseball instead of 10-man pussyball. But I'm unhappy nonetheless, because I really believed you could do it, and not only did you not do it, you failed to do it in truly spectacular fashion, making all the asshole Sox fans who laughed about you being a bunch of no-names who got where you were based on nothing more than dumb luck appear to be right.

But, like I said, I can forgive this heartbreak. Here's how: If you, as an organization from the top down, don't for a nanosecond think that you've now got some laurels you can rest on. If you go out there next season and play like the team that scrapped and fought to get into the playoffs, like the team that won 21 of 22 and swept through the National League playoffs. If you don't think, "Well, we won one pennant, which is more than anyone ever expected of us, that's enough to coast on for a few more years." If the owners and the GM do what it takes to keep that awesome homegrown talent around.

That's the key - pony up the dough, Monforts. Make those guys happy, O'Dowd. I don't think I can hang in there if, in a few years, I have to watch the Rockies returning to perennial Cellar Dweller status and see Holliday playing for Boston, Francis on the mound at Shea Stadium and Tulo in Yankee pinstripes. Do what it takes to keep these guys, do what it takes to stay in contention for the playoffs every season, play like you want to win for yourselves and for all those fans whose loyalties you've reawakened this fall. Don't return to being a team that's content to sell 25,000 tickets to each game and just enough merchandise to keep your Dugout Stores afloat.

Do that, and I'm yours forever. Well, I'm always going to be a fan. But doing that will go a long ways towards putting this World Series debacle out of my mind.

XOXOXO,
Me

----

Dear Team Formerly Known as the Boston Red Sox,

I've been a fan of yours for quite a few years now. It is with some small measure of regret, therefore, that I must inform you that we're through. I can no longer in good conscience support you.

Oh, I suppose I'll always have fond memories of the times we've had together...watching Pedro Martinez come in, injured, and pitch five perfect innings against the Cleveland Indians in the '99 Division Series. Pounding on the bar at Old Chicago in front of the idiot Yankee fan bartender during the '99 ALCS and chanting, "Where is Roger?" (thump, thump, thump-thump-thump) "In the shower!" after you ran Clemens out of Game 3. Watching your amazing comeback in the '04 ALCS against the Yankees. Good times, good times.

But it's gotta end. Why? Well, because you've become everything you once stood against. You've gone from that loveable, charming underdog, the American League's perennial hard-luck losers, to just another Big Moneyball team, winning because you can afford to pay more than anyone else. You're not the Red Sox anymore, Boston team. Who are you? You're just Yankees North.

Congratulations, Yankees North. You had the best team money could buy this year. I hope you're proud of yourselves. Over the next few years, you'll no doubt buy yourself a few more championships, and the people in New England will love you as the rest of the country continues to despise you more and more. You'll attract ever greater numbers of bandwagon fans and celebrity hangers-on. Hey, you've already got Dane Cook, and he's one of the most annoying human beings on the planet...so that's pretty good, right?

People from all over the country will continue picking Yankees North as their favorite team, not because of any genuine love but because everyone loves a winner, and you'll sell Yankees North hats and t-shirts by the metric asston. But me? I'm done with you.

It's not just you and your new status as Yankees North. Mostly, but not entirely. I've come to realize that I generally dislike American League baseball overall, with its sissy 10-man rule and the over-emphasis on caveman-like bashing of the ball, where essentially useless "players" like Manny Ramirez and David Ortiz can be superstars even though they can barely play in the field, just because they can hit a ton. I'll probably throw some half-hearted support at the Oakland A's...though it's going to be tough in a couple of years to even care all that much about the Fremont A's or the San Jose A's or whatever the hell they're going to become.

Anyway, this isn't really about the DH or the A's and whatever south-easterly Bay Area community will eventually become their home. This is about how you've lost yourself more than one fan for good, Yankees North. I know it won't really matter to you, but that's what I'm feeling, and I had to get it off my chest.

Much hate,
Me

Hang On, Snoopy

2007-10-14T14:31:00.000-06:00

Here's another review of the new Schulz biography, this time from the New York Times' Randy Kennedy. This one takes as its focus the strange Euro/American preoccupation with the concept of the Tortured Artist. Once again, plenty of food for thought.

Kennedy quotes University of Minnesota professor Patricia Hampl, who offers a nugget of what I believe to be truth and wisdom:

“People don’t want to believe that someone like them could just sit down at a typewriter or a desk and create something great or timeless,” she said. “It’s got to be the product of a lot of misery and angst.” She compared the impulse to that of conspiracy theorists and their reluctance to believe in the banality of evil: “It’s hard to accept that a guy could just go up into a building and shoot the president.”

Very true, I think. this is related to a concept about which I've ranted before, the idea of Art as a Standard, which leads to the boneheaded idea that, "Well, I could do that!" is a valid criticism of a piece of artwork.

Kennedy also quotes City University of New York professor Morris Dickstein, whose comment is every bit as idiotic as Hampl's is insightful:

“People who have always had a happy life and lived on an even keel and haven’t had a lot of misfortune really don’t tend to be creative people.”

That's just pure horseshit, and if Dickstein doesn't know he's spouting pure horseshit, he doesn't really have any business teaching at CUNY. It's this myth and people like Dickstein who spout it from the bully pulpit of academia that leads plenty of young and talented musicians, artists and writers to any number of addictions and self-made miseries, simply because it's viewed as some sort of requirement for greatness.

Miles Davis shot heroin and Johnny Cash popped pills, Hemingway and Fitzgerald were self-destructive alcoholics, van Gogh was bat-shit insane and Picasso was a self-loathing womanizing asshole. Doesn't mean it's a requirement for creativity. It certainly doesn't mean that English professors ought to go off half-cocked, claiming that creativity = misery, and that people who aren't miserable can't be creative.

I Got a Rock

2007-10-13T18:03:00.000-06:00

If you have any interest in comic strips at all, do yourself a favor, take a few minutes and read Bill Watterson's review of the new Charles Schulz biography from the Wall Street Journal. First of all, it may pique your curiosity like it did mine and make you want to read the book.

More than that, it's interesting to me because of what it is. I am generally fascinated to hear or read artists discussing other artists. Publicity interviews with guys like Steven Spielberg or Martin Scorsese where they're just plugging their latest movie are usually dull, rote affairs. But in-depth discussions with them, the times the interviewer is able to get them waxing rhapsodic about Billy Wilder or John Ford, that's pure gold. Such a discussion allows you to see the films of both Spielberg and Ford in a new light.

And so it is here. Watterson is, of course, the creator of "Calvin and Hobbes," widely considered the best comic strip of its era. In the WSJ piece, Watterson makes it quite clear that he is one of the legion of cartoonists who learned any number of important lessons about the art simply by absorbing "Peanuts" as a kid. That "Peanuts" was influential goes without saying, but the direct influence of Schulz on Watterson becomes clear when Watterson explains it and gives you the opportunity to think about it. Look at that "Peanuts" strip above - could it not just as easily be Calvin (in a more sour mood, perhaps, than Charlie Brown) delivering the line in panel 2, and Hobbes, in some ways the comics page's philosophical heir to Linus van Pelt, delivering the line in panel 4?

The piece is also interesting for what it does not say. Obviously, this is a book review, so Watterson has to limit his editorializing. He is, however, able to slip in a few things between the lines. There is a certain wistful sadness lurking in there, but Watterson, who famously battled with his syndicate over licensing rights to "Calvin and Hobbes," is not able to say explicitly how he feels about the role of "Peanuts" as the progenitor of every "Dilbert" doll, every "Far Side" calendar and coffee mug and every single awful, soul-sucking "Garfield" poster with which awful middle school teachers wallpaper their classrooms.

Still, the admiration Watterson continues to feel for Schulz's work shines through. I'd love to read more from popular cartoonists of the present discussing, in greater depth, the work of popular cartoonists of the past.