A Small Victory

Taking some time off. I'll be headed to Roscoe, NY for a few days of rest, relaxation, family fun, fishing, lizard hunting, frog catching, picture taking, nature appreciating, star watching, hiking and peace in a no-internet zone. I've got five novels, two empty notebooks, my camera, some board games, a couple of bottles of wine, my husband, kids, parents, sisters, brothers in law and nephew to make the vacation complete. I can't even begin to tell you how much I need this.

Back around August 9th.

I've just added somefiction here and don't forget to check in/contribute to t 100 words every day.

Also, I will be missing the Blogathon this year, but Laurence will be participating again.
If you're feeling generous and altruistic, you can donate to Moody Mama's Light the Night Walk or Joelle's Rock Walk.

Vacation/random photos will be added here:

Update: Just to stave off the amount of email I've been getting on the subject, as I am leaving for vacation this evening and won't be answering mail until next week:

Yes, I received an offer from Pajamas Media, last week in fact. I turned it down for numerous reasons, the least of which being that the contract would call for me to be blogging much longer than I anticipate continuing to do so.

If I owe you an email, I will get back to you some time next week. I've been mostly away from the computer and, for the next five days or so, will be, blessedly, without an internet connection.

See you all next Tuesday or Wednesday, when I will bombard you with vacation pics.

Posted by me at 05:06 PM | Permalink | Comments (16)

This is why I will not bitch about anyone checking my bag when I get on the LIRR.

What is that? It's a nail bomb.

Shocking new images have emerged of unexploded bombs, some packed around with nails, which were found in a car left behind by the July 7 London bombers.

[...]

The presence of nailbombs graphically illustrates that the bombing cell wanted to inflict the maximum possible pain, injury and risk of death on innocent London commuters, security analysts say.

"You see what is bulging on the sides of the bottle are nails. Many, many nails," said Robert Ayers, a security expert who was shown the pictures by the American ABC News channel last night.

"And the nails are put there so that when the bomb goes off, the nails will tear tissue and kill people in the area. Bombs don't kill by concussion. Small bombs, they kill by the blast effects of fragments of glass or metal, and this is designed to kill people.

Anyone protesting the checking of bags can kiss my ass. Oh, there are prices I am not willing to pay to fight terrorism, but having my backpack looked through before I hop on the LIRR is not something I'm going to fight.

If you want to fight civil liberties battles, more power to you. There's a lot you can be doing. But keeping the police from making sure that no one getting on my train is carrying the item pictured above? I'm totally down with that.

Posted by me at 03:21 PM | Permalink | Comments (49)

The other day I mentioned the theme of nostalgia v. memory. I think I hit upon a perfect example of that yesterday.

It's amazing that, 42 years into this thing called life, I still haven't let myself give in to the fact that nothing stays the same forever. Not even forever. Nothing stays the same from year to year. Yet nostalgia makes me feel as if it should. Every November, I start longing for a White Christmas even though this means shoveling and driving in snow and just the extra burden of trying to prepare for the holidays in the middle of a winter storm, I still expect Christmas to be like it was when I was seven or ten or even twelve. Not just the weather, but the feelings and surroundings; that palpable excitement in the air, the anticipation of presents, the comradery of family, the smell of things baking and cooking all the time, the yards of wrapping paper and ribbon strewn from end to end of the house, the malls bustling with little kids wrapped in winter coats, waiting to see Santa.

Was Christmas ever like that? Or was it like that one year, or two and because I have such fond memories of it, that's the way I choose to believe Christmas really was? Nostalgia v. Memory. A bit of both, maybe, or just my mixed memories of the most perfect thing about each Christmas mixed together to make some Hallmark perfect holiday scene? And even if that's what I expect each year, I never really get it. And I'm ok with that. Each Christmas, each winter vacation has been wonderful on its own, and from each one, I take a memory here and a memory there and add it to my growing picture of what Christmas Perfect is like. Nostalgia, maybe, is a growing collage of everything wonderful.

And now, the same thing with summer. Every June I think: summer! Freedom! Bare feet Long nights chasing fireflies! But is it like that? I can't stand the heat. I don't even want to be outside to take the garbage out, let alone chase fireflies at night. We rarely stop the ice cream truck because we buy Good Humor assorted novelty ice cream in bulk at Costco. We just walk out to the freezer in the garage and take our pick. I don't swim. I hate getting wet, I hate the act of going into the pool, the water creeping up on me, my wet bathing suit clinging to me, kids splashing in my face and someone always trying to make me go underwater when I just don't want to. But the sound of someone jumping into a pool, the splash landing - if I close my eyes and listen to that, it's like someone is playing the feelgood hit of the summer in my head; maybe I'm in grade school and we're dancing to Sugar, Sugar on the front lawn, the grass tickling my bare feet as I twist and shout in my flower power bathing suit. Maybe it's later than that and Beach Baby is playing and I'm sunburned and hanging out with my friends on some random street corner, waiting for someone's older brother to show up with the firecrackers. Every June I anticipate reading in the backyard under the tree, the distant sound of kids chasing each other through yards, the smell of charcoal and hamburgers wafting through the neighborhood, the snap of a cold beer being opened, the smell right before a thunderstorm.

Again, it's nostalgia. My summer memories are not so idle, not so idyllic, but the nostalgic part of my memory has woven this tapestry of perfection, threads taken from every summer before, from our trips upstate, to the car rides to the beach, to the bells of the ice cream man, and I hang that tapestry in my head and think: that's what summer is, even though right now it's crying about the electric bill because the A/C is always running, and the lawn is brown from the heat and it's July and already my garage is filling up with back to school supplies.

Yesterday we were in Target, perusing the DVD section, when I spotted the box set for Wacky Races. A tingle of joy went through my as I grabbed for the box. I must have it! Penelope Pitstop! Dick Dastardly! And then I thought: Nostalgia v. Memory. Was this show really that good? Did I enjoy it enough to spend thirty dollars on it? Or was that tingle of joy more reminiscent of sitting in front of the tv on a Saturday morning, eating sugared cereal and watching cartoons for hours? I chastised myself. You can't replicate your childhood with a DVD box set, not even if you had a bowl of Quisp and superhero pajamas.

Nostalgia v. Memory is why so many bad movies appear on our list of favorites; who really thinks that Attack of the Killer Tomatoes is great stuff? Only someone who had a good time watching that movie. It's why I love Sister Christian and Don't Stop Believing, why I still read Archie comics, why I'll get giddy with excitement when I see an old school Asteroids coin-op in an arcade.

And as much as I try to replicate my perfect-in-my-mind childhood for my kids, I have to be reminded constantly my nostalgia is not their idea of a good time. They don't want to live through my personally woven tapestry of good times, and I can't say I blame them. Even though they will sit for an hour or so and play Atari games with me, I think they do it more for the laughs. They shrug at Flintstone reruns and their idea of building a great summertime memory is to spend the night at Dave and Buster's, inserting tokens into machines, killing zombies and whatnot. And that's fine. They have to build their own tapestries so, many years from now, they can be nostalgic for the things that made their childhood great, so they can make their own bit of idyllic perfection, creating a collage of best of, like a fading band putting together a greatest hits collection. Eventually, they'll sit in front of their own televisions in their own houses, watching DVDs of the early years of Power Rangers and realizing that nostalgia makes memories more colorful than they really might be, and there's nothing wrong with that. Nothing at all wrong with remembering all the good times in one package, even if that package cost me thirty dollars plus a box of Quisp.

I know what I'm doing Saturday morning.

Posted by me at 06:33 AM | Permalink | Comments (5)

Ah yes, that's me. Miss Negativity. Miss I Hate Everything. Miss Bitch Bitch Bitch. Miss Blackened Aura.

Well this little light of mine, I'm gonna let it shine. We're going to put on a happy face, surrender to the love that flows from the hearts of mankind, drink the milk of human kindness, buy the world a Coke and teach it to sing.

Put on your happy shoes kids, we're gonna dance.

Things that make me happy ("family, friends, laughter of small children, world peace and strolls on the beach at sunset notwithstanding):

• Bugs Bunny in drag
• the sound of a needle landing on a record
• Mary Jane jokes
• "Space. It seems to go on and on forever. But then you get to the end and a gorilla starts throwing barrels at you."
• "Cake or Death"
• crushed ice
• Guinness
• Cassidy, Tulip and Preacher
• a brand new black and white marble notebook
• pictures of the northern lights
• a shape shifting ball of meat
• fairy tales
• opening day
• "Multipass"
• "Angel Dust"
• the strawberry shortcake sundae at Ruby Tuesday's
• macro photographs
• hockey
• "burnination"
• halloween
• the smell of sharpies
• rainy saturdays in summer
• clouds
• legend of zelda
• movie trailers
• Gary Oldman
• Wikipedia on random
• peanut butter sauce on ice cream
• fart jokes
• jigsaw puzzles
• "the dude abides"
• Matilda
• Snapple apple pie
• Penny Arcade
• the opening crawl to any Star Wars movie
• the color orange
• sleep
• the first snowfall of winter
• Simpsons season 4

Happy, happy, joy, joy.

That should help with my black aura of death problem.

Posted by me at 06:42 PM | Permalink | Comments (25)

November 1st.

Posted by me at 12:49 PM | Permalink | Comments (7)

For parents of school age children, the most wonderful thing ever:

Schoolkidz.com

I just ordered two school "kits" for my kids - they contain all the basic supplies both my kids will need for the start of the school year. I'll have to spend very little time in Staples now, just getting teacher-specific supplies. Everything else will be delivered in two boxes to my house. All name brand stuff, at great prices, pre-packaged or you can make your own kit up.

There's no high school kit on the site, but I bought the 8th grade box for Nat because it has all the basics she would need, anyhow.

The little things in life make me happy. This is one of them. I just might avoid the angst and anger of back to school shopping this year.

Posted by me at 10:44 AM | Permalink | Comments (10)

The less sleep I get, the more I write. Weird how that works.

Today's theme over at 100 words is BAZAAR. I wrote several stories, each one ending up at way more than 100 words. So, back to the drawing board.

Meanwhile, here's one of the stories I wrote that doesn't fit the word quota. Enjoy, or not. Keep in mind it's a first draft, unedited, written in twelve minutes story. Still, I think I'll keep it.

Henry passed the booth four, five, six times. He circled the bazaar, purchasing a glass bottle, pickled herring and anise seeds along the way. Each time he ended up in front of the red and white striped booth, staring at the wrinkly woman with the “Kisses, $1.00" sign around her neck.

There was nothing else in her booth. Just the chair she sat on and a bucket for dollars. The bucket was empty and Henry felt awful for the woman that no one wanted to kiss.

Something pulled Henry to the booth; something he could not resist. On his seventh time around, after purchasing a cap made of skunk fur and unable to hold any more purchases, he found himself back at the kissing booth, staring at the old woman and her crooked smile and sagging skin.

Henry fished a dollar coin from his pocket. He dropped it in the bucket and it clanked and clattered while Henry leaned down awkwardly to kiss the woman.

“No,” the woman whispered. “I kiss you.” She stood and Henry could hear her bones move against each other; her back cracked, her knees clicked, her body protested the movement, as if it had been years since the woman had used those muscles and bones. She moved her lips towards Henry’s cheek. The smell of rotting fruit and something long dead clung to her skin and Henry fought off the urge to twist his head; he must have this kiss, he thought. A dollar’s worth, anyhow.

He felt her cracked lips brush against his skin and he shuddered. She then grabbed Henry’s face, her hands pressed firm against his cheeks and ears, her grip surprisingly strong. As she moved in to kiss him full on the lips, Henry saw something small and white emerge from the woman’s mouth; the maggot crawled down her lip, stopping to suck on the flesh. Henry felt the day’s take of pickled herring churn in his stomach and rise up to his throat, he would surely throw up on the woman’s face if she didn’t move. He tried again to turn his head, but the woman’s hands were like steel. He couldn’t turn an inch either way.

Her lips met Henry’s and as he tried to scream, her tongue entered his mouth and Henry felt it slide across his own tongue, reaching down his throat, slithering its way through his body like a snake and then blackness as the bile and woman’s tongue met and made breathing difficult, if impossible.

If later that day you asked anyone who was searching the bazaar grounds for the missing young man named Henry about the old woman and the kissing booth, they would say no such thing existed.

And it doesn't. At least not for them.

Posted by me at 10:01 AM | Permalink | Comments (5)

I think the whole world's gone mad.
Uh-Uh. It's always been like this. You probably just don't get out enough.

Sexton and Death in Neil Gaiman's Death: High Cost of Living

Death is probably right. But in Sexton's defense, he has never seen the world before with Death as his guide.

Most of us go through life seeing the world only through our own eyes. This is what I see so this must be the way it is. Your only view of the world is your own interpretation of events and surroundings.

Sexton is one lucky guy. Sure, he's a despondent, black-souled, angst ridden teenager, just one crappy lyric short of being Kurt Cobain. But he gets the delicious treat of meeting Death, the perkiest otherwordly being this side of Katie Couric.

Death - spending her one day a year among the mortals - saves Sexton from a rather dubious exit from life and they make their way together through the city, going off on surreal adventures and playing out a modern, mystical version of It's a Wonderful Life.

So Sexton gets to see life through Death's eyes and it turns out that life is pretty magical. Pure irony there, being shown the wonders of life by Death herself, eh?

Imagine if you had a guide; someone who would spend a day walking through cities with you, showing you all the things you didn't know were there. It's not enough to take someone else's eyes and watch what they see, you have to have the mind behind those eyes as well.

Say there are two people laying on the grass, staring up at a cloud. One person sees a fish, another a castle in the same cloud. They can describe what they see so the other person recognizes it as well - see, there's the fish's eye, and the fin....oh, yes! I see it! - but the other person can't see what's behind the vision. Sure, it's just a fish, but in the other person's mind, the fish has already been given a name (Frida) and she's swimming towards something (sunlight) but the evil dark lord (the cloud behind it) is going to snatch up Frida and eat her for lunch before she can get anywhere near that sunlight.

You keep those things to yourself, mostly. Your friend who is laying on the grass with you won't get the real feeling of the story. He won't know why you chose the name Frida or why Frida will never make it to the sun and he certainly won't know that you will proably spend the rest of the day imaging scenarios between Frida and the dark lord.

Sexton, depressed, morose and suicidal as he is, is quite a lucky guy. He gets to see life through someone else's mind. He gets to experience the magic that Death experiences. And by doing that, he is able to see the world outside of his narrow view.

The problem is not that Sexton didn't get out enough; it's that he didn't get out of his own mind enough. Yes, the world has always been mad. It's always been crazy.

Perhaps we can say we do have these guides and they are books and music and all kinds of mass media that let us see into the minds of others, let us travel along their paths and experience their unique experiences.

Yes and no. It is not the same as actually running through the city with Death looking for an old woman's lost heart. Our guided tours are vicarious.

I assume that when Sexton realized he was hanging out with Death he had to figure they were perfectly matched companions. After all here he was, trying to kill himself. And there she was, Death personified.

Turns out they each had a little more life in them than Sexton realized.

Which all begs a question. Do we really want to see the world through the minds of others? It might be a very uncomfortable thing, to take a day's journey with someone quite unlike you. It might even be more uncomfortable to see the world through the mind of someone who thinks exactly like you do. And if we are our own guides, how many of us are really comfortable with that?

When I was a child, I had all kinds of daydreams where I would hang out with magical people and live within their magical lives. I'm a bit more grounded in reality now, but not much. I believe the one stark difference between then and now is I no longer wish to see the world laid bare as it really is. I thought, once upon a time, that it would be infinitely cool to have a magical companion who could show me everything that lies beneath the facade, every bit of myth and lore and fantasy that is hidden by the harsh realities of the world. I just knew that underneath all the dirt and grime and everday boringness of life, there were things happening that only those who possessed a certain magic could see. Things happening right underneath our feet, right in front of our eyes, but we are too wrapped up in the ordinary to see the extraordinary.

The fear is that mixed in with the angels and faeries and exciting, noble creatures of some other realm (where everyone eats chunks of cheese and hunks of bread and golden, crunchy apples, because that is what every hero in every fantasy book eats), there are creatures like devils and ogres and perhaps even grues, waiting to devour you.

I had a dream once, when I was about twelve, that I was being led through a dark passageway by a lighted, winged fairy. Along the walls of the passageway were drawings that would come to life as the fairy's light landed on them. At first, the passage was filled with the sound of my giddy laughter, as I watched all kinds of funny, mystical creatures take wing and fly around me. But as we rounded a corner, the light played upon a creature so hideous that the site of its face knocked the wind out of me. I fell to the ground and as I did so, I caught site of the creature. He was staring at me through hideous eyes. Now that you have seen me, I will never let you forget me, is what he said. And I didn't forget him, which is obvious as I repeat this dream to you now.

And that is my fear. That taking a ride through life through someone else's vision would reveal hideous ogres that should have been left unseen.

I suppose that one can't get to see the knights and good witches without seeing the trolls as well. What I would give to run through the city with Death as my companion, living Death's adventures. What I would give to be Sexton, to have someone shake me and say, look at all the things you didn't know existed.

Still, would I do that if a fleeting glance in a glass building revealed myself to be a monster?

Yes, you've seen this before. What can I say? The insomnia is KILLING me..

Posted by me at 06:29 AM | Permalink | Comments (7)

Revelation of the evening: Marge Simpson is a C U Next Tuesday. Seriously. She is a bitter, jealous, mean hag who belittles everything Homer does and then goes insane with jealousy when he does something right. The woman is never happy. All she does is bitch, bitch, bitch. She's a pretentious, righteous, holier-than-thou know-it-all.

No wonder Homer never really amounts to anything. What for? What's his incentive? So he can make more money and Marge will still bitch that it's not enough? So he can buy her nice things and she'll complain that they're not nice enough? Why would he try to improve himself when all his wife is going to is make fun of his efforts or ridicule him in the end?

It's not just Homer she's a bitch to. Why doesn't the whole town hate her? She's always preaching and carrying on about morals and what's right and wrong in the eyes of Marge, expecting everyone to live according to her standards and beliefs. Even when she tries to encourage her kids, she does little more than condescend to them or brush them off. She doesn't listen to their problems, their wants or nees, she just assumes that she knows exactly what they need or want without really hearing them out. And she's an awful parent to Maggie.

And my god, is that woman judgmental. And jealous. Did I mention jealous and petty? Good.

I hate Marge Simpson.

Bitch.

[the only thing I can say in defense of this post is that I clocked my sleep at one hour and forty three minutes last night. That's about average for the past three weeks. I am clearly not operating with full faculties here]

Update: I was watching an old episode, by the way. Not a new one.

Posted by me at 06:45 PM | Permalink | Comments (17)

I've got this thing for point and click games (one of the reasons I bought a C64 last year) - so when I found this game via Fark and I was midly pleased that I could point and click and fool around for a bit. Turns out it was much more complicated than I first realized. And weirder. And crazier.

You've got to click your way around. Experiment. Go back and forth. Choose options that seem crazy. And if all else fails, right click the flash and hit play.

[Note, there a few, split second NSFW scenes you may come upon]

There are a plethora of ways to "win" this game and even if you don't really win, you get to do some wild and wacky things:

• I won by destroying the world AND finding a copy of Nintendo Castlevania, which is playable!
• Became a shoe cobbler
• Killed Shakespeare
• Got eaten by a zombie
• Had Hitler steal my time machine helmet
• Destroyed capitalism
• Won some corn bread
• Was stalked through a good portion of the game by a hairy manticore
• Erased earth
• Went back in time to sleep with my mother (but didn't)
• Joined the circus
• Found the circus acrobat who shows me her boobies

Go and play, tell me what you find.

Posted by me at 03:49 PM | Permalink | Comments (10)

1. Several people have asked where the photo on my new banner came from - it's mine.

2. There is a wonderful discussion about Harry Potter and the Half-Blood Prince and all the guesswork that goes with reading it here. Lots of spoilers plus things you won't know unless you've completed it.

3. Three blogs I've been reading a lot of:

News from me
Pop Culture Gadabout
Hooray for Captain Spaulding

4. Quote of the day: If anyone has doubts about my manliness, let them send me their wives and they will become convinced of my prowess for themselves

5. Generation Darwin

Feel free to add. I could certainly use some funny, light links today.

Oh yea, and I think Command Post has run its course. We might find some way to keep it alive, but for the most part, it's on the way out.

Posted by me at 10:30 AM | Permalink | Comments (3)

The WB has fired Michigan J. Frog as its spokes..thing.

I'm sure MJF will rebound quickly and find work elsewhere. I mean, a singing frog...they don't just turn up on your doorstep every day. Especially a singing frog in a top hat.

Which is what I really want to talk about, rather than Mr. Frog's employment problems.

See, I have a thing against cartoon animals that wear a piece of clothing (in this case, a hat) but no pants. It's got to be either all or nothing. Once you put one piece of clothing on, you become partially humanized, and that means your genitals should not be showing, or even hinted at showing. Or even showing the place where the genitals would go if non-adult cartoons had genitals. Not that you can see MJF's package, but you know it's there.

This is why I've always had a problem with both Donald Duck and Porky Pig, but not Bugs Bunny. Donald wears a ridiculous sailor suit, as if he's a five year old child getting ready for his annual photo shoot. Porky wears a jacket and tie, but no shirt or pants. Sometimes he even wears a cowboy getup - hat, bandana, vest - but still no pants. Mickey wears shorts. I appreciate the fact that Walt covered up the mouse's naughty bits. Yet Daisy the hobag walks around wearing a shirt and big ass bow, but no pants or skirt. Easy access for Donald, maybe? Wally Gator wears a freaking collar. A collar! WHY? (I understand Wally made an appearance on Harvey Birdman last night - don't tell me about, I won't watch it until later today). Magilla not only wore pants, but suspenders as well, so when he was chasing the little girl around like a crazy uncle, his shorts didn't fall down and reveal his monkey meat. I thank HB for that. Wile E. Coyote? Completely unclothed, like a good animal should be. And Bugs, too. He wears nothing, unless he dresses up during one of his escapades (baseball uniform, a skirt and high heels, etc.). Nothing is fine, because that says to me that he is a rabbit. Rabbits generally don't wear clothes. His nakedness is natural. But slap a hat or necktie on him and you've got to have pants.

Do you see what I'm saying here? If you give a cartoon animal a human trait, such as wearing chaps, YOU HAVE GOT TO COVER THEIR HOO-HAS AND WEENIES! Even if you can't see the private parts, you know they are there, hidden under the fur or reptile skin or whatever. Vest...hat....DICK! The cartoonists are stating the obvious by NOT stating the obvious. Why go halfway? Why dress a pig or a duck in half an outfit? It's only going to call attention the fact that the other half isn't dressed.

I'm giving way too much thought to cartoon animal genitals for a Monday morning.

Good luck with the job hunt, Michigan. I hope that when you do land on your webbed feet, it's at a place the demands proper attire. Like, pants.

More thoughts on the singing frog here.

Posted by me at 06:12 AM | Permalink | Comments (19)

Twas a family function day. Odd things, they are. You spend half your time laughing with people you hardly you see and the other half hiding from people you wish you didn't have to see. Or kiss.

Well, the wine was good. And free. Here's hoping I can stay awake until Family Guy goes on.

So, last week when I mentioned the Brothers Johnson's Strawberry Letter #22, I was pleasantly surprised to see how many of you are fellow lovers of that song. So here's a treat for you.

Download - Strawberry Letter.

And now, the Sunday evening "Here's what I'm listening to, what are YOU listening to right now?" thang.

Posted by me at 08:04 PM | Permalink | Comments (9)

Am I the only person who loathes Desperate Housewives?

Maybe it's just me. I hated Sex and the City as well.

Posted by me at 09:43 AM | Permalink | Comments (32)

Things I would have rather done with that 1:40:

• Hit myself repeatedly on the head with a ball peen hammer
• Watch 1:40 of Badger Badger Badger
• Discussed foreign policy with the stray cats outside
• Watched Gigli, Showgirls or Kazaam
• Stabbed myself in the eyes with a spork until blind
• Passed a kidney stone
• Watch Fred Durst make his "O" face
• Watched all five of R. Kelly's Trapped in the Closet videos

M. Night Shyamalan is a hack. Sixth Sense wasn't even as good as people make it out to be. Unbreakable was almost good, but he fucked it up in the end. Signs was the biggest piece of crap ever (ooh the aliens can fly all the way the fuck to earth but they can't figure out how to open a door knob!). And now this. Explain to me why the word "genius" gets bandied about with his name, because I don't understand it. And you know, the movie would have been only twenty minutes long if the characters didn't all speak in slow fucking motion. Listening to the dialogue was like pulling friggin teeth.

Holy hell, this movie sucked ass. It was asscake with assfrosting eaten with an ass spoon. Ass. Ass. Ass.

Posted by me at 10:44 PM | Permalink | Comments (41)

This is the cutest picture I've seen in a long time. I love it.

Boy at Russian sand sculpture festival via fark]

Give it a caption.

Posted by me at 11:24 AM | Permalink | Comments (17)

I spent a great portion of the week tracking news for Command Post. Here is what I learned:

• FOX (the website) will often post the most alarming breaking news headlines, long before anyone else has them. Often times, the headline (and story that went with it, if any) will disappear with nary a mention of them again. FOX does not believe in erring on the side of caution. They'd rather get the sreeching, panicky news flash up and just make it disappear later if it proves wrong or false. However, I have to say that they have been first with the (real/true) breaking news most often.

• CNN (again, website) doesn't seem to care. They are so slow with breaking news it's almost embarrassing. They had the Egypt story from last night as a breaking headline, with no link, about forty minutes after I had full details at Command Post (thanks to mostly foreign news sites). CNN is definitely more interested in celebrity love children and scandalous behavior in Aruba than real news.

• What happened to Drudge? He blew it on ever breaking story this week. In the botched London attacks, he still had 200 point font headlines about the weather as his news flash a full HOUR after everyone else had the stories up. He was also slow with the initial London attacks. I suppose he's more of a sensationalist when it comes to breaking news. If it's got thousands of dead people, lots of blood, Hillary Clinton or Britney Spears, it will get the full Drudge treatment.

• Sky News will find the most absurd quotes from witnesses to events and give them the full treatment. They are good with breaking news, but fall way behind when it comes to giving details. They'll have the same headline/story up for hours, while other sites have updated several times. Often times, the Sky stories are riddled with inaccuracies, hearsay and quotes from Sky personnel, which I think are probably made up.

• My main source for finding quick, updated links and instant reports on breaking news has been, believe it or not - Fark. Not the front page, but Total Fark. I've seen news flashes on breaking events in there long before the main news sites have the stories, and the TFers themselves, spread out all over the world, have been an amazing source of information in the early stages of breaking events.

• I learned that the blogosphere is more incestuous than I originally thought. Bloggers will link to each other saying "so and so is live blogging the event, tons of information" and there will be 15 trackbacks to 15 blogs that all have the SAME EXACT LINKS to Fox, CNN, BBC and each other. It's a circle jerk of news. I don't understand why someone would write about a breaking story, then tell you to go to another website for more info, when all that site has is the same links, including a link back to the blog you just came from. If you want to read the same paragraph about a breaking story twenty times, go right ahead. If not, you can come to Command Post.

• I also learned that people care far less about 60 people dying in a terrorist attack in Egypt than a terrorist being shot in a subway in London. In fact, I learned that if it doesn't happen in the U.S. or England, it doesn't get much notice.

• I should mention that MSNBC is a good source of breaking news. They may not get the four-alarm headlines up in the same amount of time as FOX, but their follow up coverage is always complete and detailed.

And that's what I learned this week, as far as covering news goes.

As for everything else, I didn't learn anything you didn't already know.

Posted by me at 06:53 AM | Permalink | Comments (22)

As I continue with the shoddy content (Headache From Hell, all freaking day), I give you: The Top Ten Web Fads of All Time

Their list (links at the link):

• Hampsterdance
• Mahir
• All your base
• Dancing Baby
• Hot or Not
• Friendster
• Ellen Feiss
• Star Wars Kid
• Blogger
• JibJab

I guess it depends on which part of the web you hang/hung out in if these fads mean anything to you. Of course, I have additions:

• Stile Project (Oh come on, totally a FAD. Does anyone read him anymore?)
• Fat Chicks in Party Hats
• Tourist Guy
• --- Ate My Balls
• Flash Mobs
• Bonsai Kitten
• Tubgirl/goatse

I know you'll come up with your own.

Posted by me at 05:29 PM | Permalink | Comments (28)

Once again, the insomnia is kicking my ass and, as such, don't really expect much in the way of decent, thought provoking, illuminating, original content from me today. So, just like any other day, then.

Here's a QOD instead, one I've been discussing with others this morning.

Your biggest pet peeve(s). Discuss.

Posted by me at 09:36 AM | Permalink | Comments (47)

Another day, another morning busy over at Command Post, another cryptic dream about writing.

In this morning's dream I opened my Moveable Type and wrote in the title box:

Nostalgia v. Memory.

It's an interesting title for a blog post, no?

Ideas? Thoughts? Where would you go with that title?

Posted by me at 06:34 AM | Permalink | Comments (10)

The Venus Vibrance -

Do you think they meant it to double as a vibrator/dildo type thing? Was it a stroke of genius or the results of corporate people not realizing what kind of product they put out there (or what normal people think about when they see the words "soothing vibrations" in conjuction with a phallic shaped instrument?)

Just wondering.

Posted by me at 06:12 PM | Permalink | Comments (14)

Kinda busy over at Command Post today, so I'm just gonna throw this one at you. I know we've done something similar before, but the time is always ripe for making fun of bad songs.

Limp Bizkit's "Nookie" named Lamest Song Ever.

Sounds good to me.

And your choice(s)?

Posted by me at 11:31 AM | Permalink | Comments (29)

Someone emailed to ask my opinion on the whole Grand Theft Auto: SA thing (in which a hidden mini-game with explicit sexual content was found through a third party mod).

The "Hot Coffee" mod saw players taking their girlfriend home and then having sex with her in a mini-game that, while present on the game DVD, only came to light after a PC modification unlocked the code. The data was subsequently found to be resident on the PS2 and Xbox discs and could be unlocked on PS2 using Datel's Action Replay cheat-finder product.

Quick take; Rockstar Games is the worst thing to happen to the video game business. At first they denied they put the hidden content in, blaming it on hackers, but later it became apparent that wasn't the case.

This isn't just a matter of having to change a rating on a game - The ESRB wants the rating changed from M (mature, 17 and over) to A/O (Adults Only, meaning video game porn). And while you can argue until the cows come home that the ESRB, politicians and the media are overreacting because there are games with head-shot kills and incredible violence and they're worried about some characters in GTA humping, the long story short is, Rockstar Games fucked up. Not only does the rating have to be changed, meaning the game has to be pulled from shelves (Wal-Mart Stores Inc., Target Corp. and Best Buy are all pulling) and sent back, but a lot of stores aren't going to carry the newly rated version. I can see where some video game chains don't want to carry something labeled as porn (also, there are financial ramifications).

If the mod/mini game was a publicity stunt by RG, it's biting them in the ass BIG TIME. And it's giving a huge black eye to the gaming industry, which doesn't have a good eye to spare, really.

I do think politicians should stay out of the gaming business and let parents determine what their kids can and can't play. It's part and parcel of the nanny state of liberalism, coupled with the prurient state of conservatism, that leads to ratings and enforcement of those ratings via retailers. It shouldn't be up to Joe Lieberman or Gary the EB Games clerk what our children can purchase. That's a parenting decision that shouldn't be legislated.

And does anyone else think this is like changing the rating of a movie after everyone's already seen it? "Oh, I'm sorry. That movie should have been rated NC 17. Wipe your mind and come see it again!" The rating change is probably a futile answer to a complex problem.

Hilary Clinton: "There is no doubting the fact that the widespread availability of sexually explicit and graphically violent video games makes the challenge of parenting much harder.."

How? How does it make it harder? Don't give me that "takes a village" crap, either. The challenge of parenting includes boundaries, guidelines and oh, not buying things for your kids that you don't want them to have, not letting play those games in your house and monitoring what they do/watch/listen to at their friend's houses if that kind of thing worries you so much. It also involves teaching your kids that just people who die on tv or in video games...wait for it...don't die in real life! It's fake! And here's a challengve: Instead of being so shocked that your kid is robbing pixelated taxi drivers and humping cartoon hos that you run to Congress to enact a law to forbid it, you TAKE THE GAME AWAY FROM HIM. How hard is that? And if it offends you so much that he's playing at someone else's house, don't let him go there. It's as simple as saying NO, something a lot of parents these days have forgotten how to do.

But back to Rockstar Games: The fact that they denied this easter egg of a treat was their doing is wrong on their part. Maybe they thought that when the content was discovered (which they knew it would be) it would bring publicity (no such thing as bad publicity!) to their product, thus boosting any lagging sales. But what they didn't think about was how this would affect the stores that carry their products and the gaming industry as a whole.

I think the problem lies with the fact that the general consensus among the non-game playing public is still that video games are for kids, are something only children play. They see a game with violence or nudity and they gasp in unison as they imagine nine year old kids killing soldiers and watching Lara Croft's jiggling breasts. The people who are horrified over M rated games need to look at some stats and see who the biggest game players are. (see, also: Think of the Childrens)

And if Hilary is so upset that violent and sexual video games have "fallen into the hands of young people across the country" maybe she and her cronies should be addressing the parents of those young kids. Someone is buying the games, and they are being played in someone's house. Don't blame the industry, blame a lack of supervision, blame lenient parents, blame lazy parents who don't take the time to see what's entertaining their children.

Or, perhaps we can look at some of the parents and congratulate them for teaching their kids the difference between reality and some pixels on a screen.

Either way, Rockstar Games has fucked over their own industry with this fiasco.

Rockstar CEO Paul Eibeler: "We are deeply concerned that the publicity surrounding these unauthorized modifications has caused the game to be misrepresented to the public and has detracted from the creative merits of this award winning product."

Bullshit. You're sorry that it's going to cost you. Like this person says: They should have released two versions or deleted the mod - and NEVER called it a hack. And honestly, as much as I love video games and play my share of violent titles, I think GTA is BORING. With or without adult situations.

[Wrote this in a real hurry, will probably edit, clarify, proofread later. I meant for this to run about four sentences, tops.]

Update: I should mention that I don't think the rating system itself should be abandoned - it pretty much protects retailers against litigious parents who send their children off by themselves to the store with a wad of cash and then act horrified when they come home with something violent.

Also, Penny Arcade had something on this yesterday I wanted to link to, but their site is wonky this morning.

Much more at Somebody Bitchslap Rockstar

Update: IT WAS TEH HAX0RZ!

Posted by me at 06:12 AM | Permalink | Comments (18)

DON'T READ BELOW THE FOLD IF YOU HAVEN'T READ THE BOOK AND ARE PLANNING TO OR IF YOU HAVEN'T FINISHED IT YET, THANKYOUVERYMUCH.

[And don't comment if you don't care, k?]

Do you think Harry's scar could be a horcrux?

Also, what do you make of Snape? Evil? Misguided? A good guy underneath it all?

(Feel free to discuss any other plot points, future plots, etc.)

Posted by me at 05:29 AM | Permalink | Comments (305)

I've linked to stuff on this site before, but I just want to say that YTMND is the greatest site EVAR!1!!

This is what the internet is all about kids.

No, that's not sarcasm. I truly love this site.

Update: Warning: THe front page contains Harry Potter spoilers, which I did not realize when I linked it, because I did so blindly. I apologize.

Posted by me at 09:17 PM | Permalink | Comments (10)

DJ and his friend Corey, Friendlys, Levittown, NY

Posted by me at 08:20 PM | Permalink | Comments (6)

First of all, stop with the emails asking why I'm not saying anything about Scotty dying. News flash: I LOATHE Star Trek. Have you EVER seen me write ANYTHING about Star Trek? No. So why would I go on about Scotty's death when I'm not even a fan of the show? I'm sure all the Trekkie bloggers are covering it just fine without my two cents. (And I'm actually more sad over this death)

Also, apropos of nothing, my daughter spent the day with Rachel Hunter yesterday.

Also, the theme for today's 100 words is JUDGE. I think I was kind of clever with my story. Add your own.

And I leave you with this (headed out until later this evening):

106 Ways To Tell If You Should Start Looking Into Retirement Funds and Cemetery Plots

[I might have made that title up, but I didn't make up the list, which came via email today]

1. You remember when Jordache jeans were cool.

2. In your fifth grade class picture you were wearing an Izod shirt with the collar up.

3. "The Brady Bunch Movie" brought back cool memories.

4. You ever rang someone's doorbell and said, "Landshark".

5. Three words: "Atari", "IntelliVision" and "Coleco". Sound familiar?

6. You remember the days when "safe sex" meant that your parents were gone for the weekend.

7. You took family trips BEFORE the invention of the mini van. You rode in the back of the station wagon and faced the cars behind you.

8. You've ever conversationally used the phrase "Jane, you ignorant slut."

9. You can place each one of the following names Bowser, Chachi, Horshak, Rerun, JJ, and Squiggy.

10. You watched HR Puffenstuff as a child but now that you're older, you really understand that it would have been much better had you known about drugs at the time.

11. You've recently horrified yourself by using any one of the following phrases: "When I was younger..."or "When I was your age..."or "You know, back when...".

12. "Schoolhouse Rock" played a HUGE part in how you actually learned the English language.

13. You're starting to view getting carded to buy alcohol as a GOOD thing.

14. You ever dressed to emulate a person you saw in either a Duran Duran, Madonna or Cyndi Lauper video.

15. The phrase "Where's the Beef?" still doubles you over with laughter.

16. You honestly remember when film critics raved that no movie could ever possibly get better special effects than those in the movie "SATURDAY NIGHT FEVER".

17. Girls thought Sean Cassidy was dreamy and lusted after Ted, the ship's photographer, on "The Love Boat".

18. You freaked out when you found that you now fall into the "26 - 50" age category on most questionnaires.

19. Your hair, at some point in time in the 80's, became something which can only be described by the phrase "I was experimenting".

20. You've ever shopped at a Banana Republic or Benetton, but not in the last 5 years, okay?

21. You're doing absolutely nothing pertaining to your major.

22. You're starting to believe (now that it wouldn't affect YOU) that maybe having the kids go to school year-round wouldn't be such a bad idea after all.

23. U2 is too "popular" and "mainstream" for you now.

24. You ever used the phrase "kiss my grits" in conversation.

25. You ever remember trying to guess the episode of the Brady Bunch from the first scene.

26. You spent endless nights dreaming about being the Bionic Woman or Wonder Woman or the Six Million Dollar Man.

27. You had ringside seats for Luke and Laura's wedding on “General Hospital".

28. You know who shot J.R.

29. Your parents wanted you to attend medical school but you decided it was pointless since Quincy got all the babes anyway.

30. This rings a bell "...and my name is Charlie. They work for me."

31. You ever wanted to learn to play "Stairway To Heaven" on the guitar.

32. You were unsure if Diet Coke would ever catch on, after all, look at Tab.

33. You know all the words to the double album set of Grease.

34. You ever had a Dorothy Hamill haircut.

35. You sat with your friends on a Friday night and dialed 867-5309 just to see if Jenny would answer.

36. You owned a pair of rainbow suspenders just like Mork used to wear.

37. You bought a pair of Vaans and wanted to order a pizza in history class so you could be just like Jeff Spicoli in "Fast Times at Ridgemont High".

38. You owned a preppy handbook.

39. You were too young to go see the "Blue Lagoon" so you just had to settle for second hand reports.

40. You remember when there was only PG and R....none of this PG 13 crap.

41. You learned to swim about the same time "Jaws" came out and still carry the emotional scars to this day.

42. You remember when your cable TV box had the three rows of numbers and you had to move the selector switch accordingly.

43. You actually believed everything Leonard Nimoy told you on "In Search Of...".

44. The "ABC After School Special", "My Mom's Having A Baby", actually taught you stuff you didn't know.

45. Your jaw would ache by the time you finished those 'brick-size' packages of Bazooka gum.

46. There was nothing strange about Bert and Ernie living together.

47. Rotary dial telephones.

48. You actually believed that Mikey, famed for his Life Cereal commercials, died after eating a packet of "Pop Rocks" and drinking a Coke.

49. You searched all over for the jeans with glittery designs on the pockets.

50. Gloria Vanderbilt stretch jeans were the height of fashion.

51. You ever had the poster of Farrah Fawcet-Majors in the one piece swimsuit. Or had the Farrah Fawcet lunchbox or the Farrah binder or spiral notebook.

52. If the phrases "Na-nu Na-nu" or "Shazbatt!" mean anything to you.

53. If you ever secretly practiced your moon-walk.

54. You remember when MTV was new and they played "Video Killed The Radio Star" about a jillion times.

55. You ever thought Bonnie Tyler was a good singer.

56. You tried "Billy Beer".

57. You ever wanted a Ronco product or ever bought a K-Tel record.

58. You had to chew a red tablet after brushing your teeth to see how well you did.

59. If you know the words to Steve Martin's song "King Tut" or ever say......"Well, excuuuuuuuuussse ME!"....or "I'm a WILD and CRAZY GUY!"

60. If you ever "feathered" your hair and walked around with a big comb in your back pocket.

61. If you ever even considered owning "Mood Rings" or "Pet Rocks".

62. "Pacman", "Frogger" and "Centipede,” friendship pins, colored hairspray, Martian head bands and you can't get the word "like" out of your vocabulary.

63. This timeline appropriately describes actual events in your life:

A. "Star Wars" opens, you are just hitting the double digit ages and you think the creatures are WAY cool.

B. "The Empire Strikes Back" opens, you are now in early double digit ages and you are convinced that the special effects are much better, the characters are WAY cooler and you want one of every collectible out there.

C. "Return Of The Jedi" hits the theatres.....you are now a full-blown teenager and you cannot take your eyes off Princess Leia's breasts or Han Solo's butt.

64. The theme song to the "Greatest American Hero" still comes back to you on occasion...."Believe it or not I am walking on air, I never thought I could be so freeeee, Flying away on a wing and a prayer, Who could it be? Believe it or not, it's just me.”

65. You know what a "burnout" is.

66. You owned/operated a 'Trapper Keeper'

67. You know what "Psych" means.

68. Once, while spending hours in the arcade, you actually lined up quarters on the top panel of the game-to "reserve" your spot.

69. You know the profound meaning of "Wax on, Wax off".

70. You know that another name for a keyboard is a "Synthesizer."

71. You can name at least half of the members of the elite "Brat Pack."

72. You know who Tina Yothers is.

73. You wanted to be a Goonie.

74. You felt ashamed when Rob Lowe got in trouble for sex with minors and videotaping it, because you liked him.

75. You had top-of-the-line Commodore 64s in your junior high computer lab

76. You know who Max Headroom is.

77. You ever wore fluorescent or neon clothing.

78. You could breakdance, or wish you could.

79. You wanted to be The Hulk for Halloween.

80. Partying "like it's 1999" seemed SO far away.

81. You thought that Transformers were more than meets the eye.

82. You wanted to be on Star Search.

83. You can remember what Michael Jackson looked like before his nose fell off.

84. You wore a banana clip at some point during your youth, or knew someone who did.

85. You owned a doll with 'Xavier Roberts' signed on its butt.

86. You knew what Willis was "talkin' 'bout".

87. You HAD to have your MTV

88. You hold a special place in your heart for "Back to the Future."

89. You know where to go if you "wanna go where everybody knows your name."

90. You thought Molly Ringwald was REALLY cool.

91. You actually thought "Dirty Dancing" was a REALLY good movie.

92. You heard of Garbage Pail Kids.

93. You knew "The Artist" when he was humbly called "Prince."

94. You actually saw Ted Danson as the MacDaddy he played "Sam" to be.

95. You remember when ATARI was a state of the art video game system.

96. You own(ed) any 'cassette singles.'

97. You were led to believe that in the year 2000 we'd all be living on the moon.

98. You remember and/or own any of the Care Bear Glass collection from Pizza Hut. Or any other stupid collection they came out with.

99. Poltergeist freaked you out.

100. You carried you lunch to school in a Gremlins or an ET lunchbox.

101. You have ever pondered why Smurfette was the ONLY female Smurf.

102. You wore bike shorts underneath a short skirt and felt stylish.

103. You ever had a Swatch Watch.

104. You remember when Saturday Night Live was funny.

105. You had WonderWoman or Superman underoos.

106. You know what a "Whammee" is.

Posted by me at 03:41 PM | Permalink | Comments (37)

Gerry Thomas, inventor of the TV dinner, dies at 83

Mmmmmm....baked apples.

In his honor, a QOD: What's the greatest UNSUNG invention of the past 50 years?

So I don't mean the internet or your Xbox. Something, much like the oft-lambasted and quit unheralded tv dinner, that doesn't get as much recognition as it should for it's worth to our lives.

[survey idea shamelessly stolen from Fark]

Posted by me at 01:12 PM | Permalink | Comments (37)

Via Stacy, EW counts down the ten worst movie role models. Here's the full list:

10. Willy Wonka
9. Dewey Finn (School of Rock)
8. Fagin (Oliver!)
7. Gloria Swenson (Gloria)
6. Moses Pray (Paper Moon)
5. Coach Buttermaker (Bad News Bears)
4. Leon (Leon/The Professional)
3. Roger Swanson (Roger Dodger)
2. Hattie (Pretty Baby)
1. Willie (Bad Santa)

First of all - What the hell is Roger Dodger? Not only have I never seen it, I never even heard of it.

Anyhow, I can't complain too much about the list (especially the top choice), though there are some noteable absences.

But I'm going to leave that up to you.

Posted by me at 11:20 AM | Permalink | Comments (16)

Dear kids,

You know how every generation has a catchy name? Gen X, The Me Generation, The Pepsi Generation, whatever. You know what yours is going to be? Generation Repeat. Why, you ask? Because everything about your culture, with the exception of some emo songs, is stolen from us. And by "us" I mean people old enough to be your parents. People who actually are your parents (and it is with creative liberty that I refer to "generation" here as "anyone coming of age in the 80's, 90's or 00's.).

I know it's not your fault. You can't help it if the marketers and PR guys and TV heads put out entertainment and fashions that act as the call of the siren for you. You can't buy or like what's not out there and I'm sorry your choices are so limited, but I think it's up to you, the kids who are being spoon fed this regurgitated crap, to come up with your brand of cool.

We never stole from other decades. You didn't see us suddenly showing up for prom in flapper outfits or hanging out at the arcade with a pack of cigarettes rolled up our t-shirt sleeve. You even stole swing. Who the hell would think to repeat something like that? Blame Brian Setzer all you want, but you bought the records, you danced the dances.

Since the 80's ended, it's been nothing but pop culture on repeat. You had your bellbottoms and tie-dye shirts. A million tv shows dedicated to going down on the past like an old boyfriend you're trying to win back. That 70's Show. That 80's Show. We Love the 70's. We Love the 80's. We Love the 90s? Are we going to be nostalgic for the future next?

I take a walk through the local mall and it's like I've reverted back to 1976. I went through this once, why are you forcing me to do it again? The haircuts are straight out of my high school year book. The t-shirts are all Led Zeppelin and AC/DC. The girls are wearing Hukapoo shirts and tube tops, the boys constantly flitting the hair out of their eyes, looking for all the world like Matt Dillon in Over the Edge. Even your emo music and punk fashion isn't new. Hello? Is this Dashboard Confessional? Morrisey called, he wants his act back. And if you see Good Charlotte tell them Black Flag wants to kick their asses.

You're even stealing our movies. You tried out Rollerball and Planet of the Apes and when they failed, you went for the jugular. Bad News Bears. Longest Yard. Amityville Horror. That's our stuff. And your predilections for eating up anything that came from a culture 20 years ahead of yours is what's feeding the entertainment and marketing industries, it's what's making them hungry for more, more, more and that's why they are remaking Poseidon Adventure and that's why REO Speedwagon has reunited. That's right folks. It's your fault Poison is still touring. Stop buying into the whole "retro is cool" thing and they'll stop throwing our leftovers at you. But, no. I think you're content to listen to The Song Remains the Same as if you're the first one to hear it. I think you're content to wear those ridiculous handkerchief skirts as if it's a blazing new fashion. Oh, and while I have your attention: Jessica Simpson in Dukes of Hazzard? My god, what an abomination that is, and I've only seen the video.

To be fair, I can see why you want to rip us off. I mean, what do you have? Does your generation really want to be known for R. Kelly's five part Trapped in the Closet? Are you going to spend your 20 year reunion looking at pictures of a pregnant Britney Spears or reminiscing about Paris Hilton's sexcapades or cracking up at pictures of your old boyfriend sporting a Gotti Brothers headband? If this is all you've got, then it's no wonder those Def Leppard CDs are still flying off the shelf. It's no wonder you are buying Transformers toys and wearing vintage Journey t-shirts and playing vector-based Atari games on a $2,000 computer.

Maybe I should be happy. Perhaps I should even be proud that my son is obsessed with Zeppelin or my daughter has an affinity for John Hughes movies. Maybe her Hukapoo shirt and his Outsiders style hair cut are a testament to the fact that their parents' entertainment reigns far superior over what new products are available to them today.

Still, it's kind of sad. Years from now all of your pop culture memories will consist of either crappy horror movies and faux punk bands, or remakes of old movies, remasters of old CDs, re-issues of old video games and re-stylings of old fashions. We’ll be watching a marathon of I Love the 00's and at some point, we’ll realize that it’s just I Love the 70's, with some news footage edited in.

I’m afraid it’s too late to save your generation. But that doesn’t worry me as much as you think. After all, you’re doing us a favor. We can borrow your music. Save money by giving our kids old clothes we have stuffed in the attic. Kick your asses in video games. Laugh at your punk rock. Recite more lines from Airplane! than you. And make you insanely jealous by saying things like “Yea, I was at the first Lollapalooza.” Or “Oh geez, saw Zeppelin live six or seven times.” Or “I have an original Burger King Jedi glass. No, I didn’t buy it on eBay. I got it a Burger King the day it came out, babe. I was THERE.” What will you have to tell your kids? “That’s right, we were there for the Reunion of the Eagles Concert to Commemorate 20th Anniversary of the Farewell Eagles Concert!”

Go ahead, be Generation Repeat. It’s kind of working out for us, after all.

Posted by me at 06:03 AM | Permalink | Comments (47)

We're down to this:

* Edith Bunker
* Weird Al
* Dick Cheney
* Bjork
* Eugene Volokh in a write-in vote

Place your bets.

Well, that's over. He went with Eric Roberts. Shitty actor, but probably doesn't want to steal your uterus.

/painkillers, as way of explanation

Posted by me at 07:20 PM | Permalink | Comments (6)

I'm going to complain about the weather. I know, there's nothing I can do about it. But I can complain because complaining makes me feel a little better. And I do not want to hear from people saying "Oh, it's so much worse here, you don't know about crappy weather." This is MY complaint department, it's my turn in line and I'm going to take my time without listening to you interrupt my bitching about something I have no control over.

So it's hot. Ok, I can stand the heat. I have A/C in my house, in my car and at work. But the humidity. Oy. I can't take it. It's been like living in the middle of a tropical depression for a week now. You walk outside in the morning and you're immediately wearing a layer of swamp. You breathe in and your lungs fill with a murky mist that threatens to choke the life right out of you. Your clothes are damp. Everything is hot to the touch. The plants are wilting. No, they're dying. Wilting takes too much work. They just want to die. And bad enough that it's 96 degrees, but the suffocation index makes it feel like 106. You can't think, you can't function, you don't want to do anything but sit in the house, watch Christmas movies and pretend it's December.

Rain? We got that. Like seven inches of it in one hour. I could have swam home from work today. Had to stop twice because I couldn't see where I was going. And it can't just be rain, nope. We have cloud to ground lightning; bright, sparkly and damn scary. We've got thunderheads that could make the deaf go deaf all over again. And then the sun comes out. Everything dries up. Still hot, still sticky, but I haven't seen the sun in fucking days and I'm feeling glorious. I go to the dentist - have some painful work done that is going to wreak havoc on my sleep tonight - come out an hour later and the sky is like that suckass Vin Diesel movie. Pitch Black, that's it. I think I even see a monster cloud that looks like Vin. I try to make it home before the downpour starts again but everyone is driving like an asshole so I'm still a mile from my door/dock when the gods turn on the faucets full blast. These drops are HUGE. I have never seen raindrops that big. It's like Paul Bunyan is pissing on my car. Finally, I turn down my street/canal and I think yea, this would be a good time to be amphibious. But Aquaman, I'm not. I finally pull into my driveway, slosh across the front lawn, get in the house just in time to avoid the crack of lighting that I'm pretty sure landed two feet behind me. I think my hair frizzed. Or that could be the humidity. Oh look. It's that sun thing again.

Anyhow, weather's here. Wish you were beautiful.

Posted by me at 06:16 PM | Permalink | Comments (12)

It just came up on the LaunchCast and made me smile, wide. It's not a great song by any stretch of the imagination. It just makes me smile for reasons that have nothing to do with the music or lyrics. That, and some people have begun to associate me with the song, which is cool. In a lame but cool way.

Other not-so-great songs that make me smile, sing, dance, whatnot for various reasons:

• The Archies - Sugar, Sugar
• Journey - Don't Stop Believing
• Bon Jovi - Wanted Dead or Alive
• Poison - Talk Dirty to Me
• Ring ring ring ring BANANAPHONE!
• Eddie Murphy - Party All the Time
• Brothers Johnson - Strawberry Letter 23*
• Air Supply - All Out of Love
• Everclear - Santa Monica

*Lots of people think this is a terrible song. Personally, I think it's one of the greatest songs ever recorded.

Posted by me at 08:38 AM | Permalink | Comments (17)

Blogger Aaron took offense to my calling him a dick (rightfully so, I guess) because I took offense to his dropping in my comments just to tell me the score of the Sox/Yankees game. Though my "dick" comment is rooted in other things, we'll bypass that for now. Instead, I'd like to open a discussion on something Aaron said. First, a brief recollection of the exchange. Aaaron said:

It's a reasonable premise that there is some age after which it's pathetic to keep up with pop culture and today's sporting event. It'd be damned funny if headstones had hours of pop culture engraved on them so people could assess "what a waste of human potential".

To which I quickly replied: Everybody over 40, stop watching sports. Aaron says it's not cool!

Aaron followed with this:

It's about spending an irreplacable and untransferrable resource, one's time on earth, on something worthwhile.

Once you start considering seriously reading AARP literature in preparation for Social Security benefits, sports fanship should be limited to one's grandkids' Little and Pee Wee Leagues. Time taken for pro sports after then is at the expense of more deserving family and/or community. Observing pro sports absent the company of someone who shares your DNA after one reaches the age of 40 or so is hard to defend.

Yeah, you're free to do it, but if you knew your life was being videotaped and could be played for posterity, could you really make an argument that others follow your example of thousands of hours of remote-clicking couch time?

Such sanctimony!

First, let me say this to Aaron and anyone else who may feel this way:

Sports is a family affair. It's part of what we do together, part of what we enjoy as a family. From my 96 year old grandfather right down to my four year old nephew, we all love watching pro sports. We go to games together, as a family. We watch games together, as a family. We enjoy this time together, as a family.

Aaron assumes that all my pop-culture worshiping and sports watching is done alone, on the couch. That's a rather large - and erroneous - assumption.

...but if you knew your life was being videotaped and could be played for posterity

The videotape would show hours upon hours of family time. It would show us yes, watching tv together and going to movies and sporting events together. It would also show us at the beach, at family dinners, just hanging out in the backyard enjoying the weather, taking walks, at amusement parks, at school events and community events and having friends and family at the house. I'm proud of my life. I'm proud of what I have contributed to my community. I'm proud of who my children are and what my family represents. Just because you choose to raise your family outside the walls of television or sports doesn't mean that people who don't do it your way are any less worthy than you. To imply that someone is 'pathetic' because they don't subscribe to your lifestyle is vain, you get the picture.

Anyhow, I'd like to hear what you all think about Aaron's declaration that: Time taken for pro sports after then is at the expense of more deserving family and/or community. Observing pro sports absent the company of someone who shares your DNA after one reaches the age of 40 or so is hard to defend.

Posted by me at 05:28 AM | Permalink | Comments (46)

At long last. Oh, it probably won't be this way long. I'm hopeful, but not delusional. I just want to use the image while I can.

Posted by me at 04:42 AM | Permalink | Comments (12)

Shop and Stop walk-in beer fridge, East Meadow, NY

I had no idea they still made the stuff. Everything bad that happened to me between the years of 1976 and 1980 - whether I have recollections of it or not - had something to do with Boones Farm wine.

Posted by me at 07:42 PM | Permalink | Comments (13)

Jim Treacher landed himself a nice gig blogging for the movie Blowing Smoke. You can read his first entry here.

As usual, we invite you to contribute to the day's theme at 100 Words.

Bitter, bitchy and envious is no way to go through life. Especially if you decide to wear those badges of dishon0r in your NYT article. See rebuttal here. [via MeFi]

New blog discovery: Scott-O-Rama

New and interesting reading over at The VN/VO. Don't miss this one.

Thor rolls a joint.

More if I think of them. Link 'em if you got 'em.

Posted by me at 06:38 PM | Permalink | Comments (3)

Why has no one yet invented a device that allows you to stab people in the face over the internet?

If I weren't an atheist, this would be my nightly prayer:

Posted by me at 05:47 PM | Permalink | Comments (16)

Just what the hell is your damage with grownups reading Harry Potter anyhow? Just because you are so stuck in the mud of adulthood that you have no desire to visit the wonders of magic, childhood and fantasy again doesn't mean you have to be a jackass about it to those of us who aren't as stone faced as you.

And you, the one who thinks NO ONE should read Potter books because they're rubbish or whatnot, why do you feel the need to try and crush someone's enjoyment just because it's not something you like? Oh, excuuuuuse meeeeeeee, Mr. Superior Intellect, Judgment, Taste and Culture. I forgot how much better a person you are than I. I bow to your refined nature. Jackass.

I started to write a novel lenght thing on why some adults like to read these books and why some adults like to behave like children and sneer at anyone who reads the books, but decided to just go with this instead, because it eats up less of my valuable time that could be spent READING HARRY POTTER.

And what is with people going into internet forums and blurting out the key plot twists in the book? Holy hell. You people deserve to be beaten severely, not for spoiling the ending, but just for being really shitty human beings.

Tolerance level for people in general is at DEFCON 1.

Posted by me at 11:29 AM | Permalink | Comments (65)

Inspired by a website devoted to people's favorite words.

I was surprised to find that my own personal word preference - cacophony - was already entered.

Other favorites of mine:

ubiquitous
snowfall
serendipity
flitter
flabbergasted
smithereens

What's your favorite word? Why?

Posted by me at 08:34 AM | Permalink | Comments (40)

And in the dream, I was writing a novel, the first line of which was this:

The noise of my air conditioner going at full blast all evening completely drowned out the sounds of the world falling apart, so I was caught completely unaware this morning.

During the dream, it was gloomy and rainy outside and planes were flying very low over my house. That was the extent of the entire dream. Me, at a typewriter (yes, a real typewriter!), pouding out that sentence, with one-fingered typing.

I wrote it down as soon as I woke up.

Hmmmm. Should I go with it? Follow my dream, so to speak?

Posted by me at 06:34 AM | Permalink | Comments (6)

Tim Burton = GENIUS
Danny Elfman = Brilliant
Johnny Depp = Weirdly fascinating

I loved this movie. LOVED it. Burton's touch on this story is nothing short of amazing. The scenery - unbelievable. Wow. The music, the dialogue, eerything is just great. Depp's Michael Jackson affectations are little creepy at some points, but overall, I love the job he did with Wonka.

And I can't help it, but no matter what movie Helena Bonham Carter is in, I see her as Marla Singer. Which was weird here, to say the least.

My favorite scene is when the oompa loompas come out after the squirrel incident. Reminded me of Tommy (the movie).
Anyhow, amazing movie. I truly loved it. The script is perfect. Everything is perfect. Will see again.

Saw the preview for Corpse Bride. I must see this movie. I want to have Tim Burton's babies.

I almost forgot. Deep Roy, who plays all the oompa loompas, deserves some kind of award for his performance. He was brilliant.

Posted by me at 08:34 PM | Permalink