General Oddity

I go shopping the other day, for food, and run across this. It's really quite good. Heavy on the poppy seeds, but maybe that's the appeal.

All that, and it's kosher!

Stupid, fat hobbits

For your consideration:

Let's not be too hasty.

Today

I am not currently having my entrails examined by a large bear.

This is probably a good thing.

Aching for the chance...

Autumn is doing a thing to help fight fibromyalgia.

Go, see her... fork over some cash, or spread the word... something.

Losses vs. Wins

Where my head's at.

Now, Kimi
posted something fairly controversial.

Let me say that again, my way: controversial.

That's a beautiful word, and I'm going to stand on a little box for a moment and say that babies are, indeed, "roast beef."

I'm not trying to say that they should be cooked and eaten. Good heavens, no. Raw is the way to go on that one.

What I'm attempting to say is that, like so many things in a capitalist environment, they are sold.

It's okay. Really. I even argued with myself this afternoon over whether that constituted some level of slavery. The answer was, "yes."

But that's beside the point, the point is that if you want a baby that you can't have via the normal biological means, you wind up forking over cash to someone else who has a child. Since society has labeled the direct marketing of this as "bad" we go through legalities in order to achieve an end, and lawyers get money, which is what the system is about anyway.

I'd prattle on about the cost of raising a child in this world costing money regardless, and one way or another you're going to pay (oh, yes... you will), but instead I feel the need to leave you with this.

Sausage

I aspire to be this man.

Anyone that can link to something in almost every sentence has my respect.

And way too much time on their hands.

Missionary Position

I've gotta know: does insulting another religion actually win converts?

I was in the park with my kids when I was approached by two people, one of each gender. The man spoke first, so it took me a while to notice that the woman only had 3 front teeth, but this would not have totally dissuaded me from a church, and I might've given them a chance except that my wife and I attend one regularly, and I'm comfortable with that.

So I told him that my wife is LDS.

"But they're not REAL Christians," he answered. He then began to expound on tithing, lack of faith, and baby-eating (or something). I can't remember what all he said, but it amounted to: the LDS church is evil.

I'm not a member of the LDS church. I don't foresee myself becoming one, although that may change. But I'll be damned if I'm going to enter a church that flings mud at the others with even the vaguest conception that I might join.

Love thy neighbor, people.

Take thy beak...

So I went over to Apple today to take advantage of my higher download rate and check out some trailers I hadn't seen. I won't get to actually see those movies (not entirely bad), but I do like to know what I'm missing out on.

And I started judging them. Granted, the trailers are made by ad men, but I'd like to believe they could be a little more creative than:

"What if (dramatic picture) everything you thought you knew (dramatic picture) was wrong? (series of seizure inducing action shots) - Name of Film - Coming this season"

Can we PLEASE not use the same formula every other movie? Maybe that kind of thing is hard... you've only got three minutes... what do you do?

An interview with a character? Usually boring, and done mostly on TV.
Highlight the action/comedy/drama in a movie with all the good shots? There goes a good word of mouth.

Maybe, just maybe, you do something entirely different. You could shoot a whole 3:15 worth of original stuff, scripted by the original writers... directed by the director... you know: a mini-film. Maybe you could line up kids and have them suspended from a rope bridge with a big sign for your film because (implied) they're that excited about it.

A dance number or musical... anything... ANYTHING!

Hey now...

I agree with the fellows over at Penny Arcade.

1) Rockstar games produces little content of any value whatsoever. Their parent company, Take Two is almost as bad. If it wasn't for "Pirates!" I'd have them whipped along with Rockstar. "Insane Golf," anyone?

2) The ESRB definitions are vague and seem dedicated to some obscure voodoo dance themselves. It has long been a criticism that, in popular culture, violence is more acceptable than sex. An RPG that implies sex, but has no violent content (what're the odds?) would probably be given a higher rating than one that implies violence, but has no sex. See also the game "Singles," a "dating sim" in which the players objective seems to be to have sex. Then look at the "Hitman: Contracts" content. I'm pretty familiar with the game, and most of it is open ended. Assumably one could play "Singles" without actually having intercourse, but it's got an "AO" rating, so the possibility merits the rating... and you can open a serious can of whoop-ass in any of the "Hitman" games. Contracts is the most recently released. All of them, to date, has an "M" rating.

Neither of them seem appropriate for kids. I could handle either at 16 fairly well, and I know which one I'd want to play (the one with sex in... duh), but I realize that I might be considered an exception. So, I checked out this review by what seemed to be a 12 year old girl.

A quick search on the esrb page reveals that all AO games have sexual content and no violence. I'm not opposed to the sex games getting the AO label, what I'm looking for is balance. Nudity is not as bad as gunfire, from my point of view. The question is, how old should you be before you can be allowed exposure to it without risking psychological damage or developmental harm?

I dunno. I'm not a psychologist. But I'm willing to bet that neither strong violence nor sexual content are really something that kids should be exposed to. Here I'm thinking there should be a new ESRB code: E 15+. Drop "M". Really, what good is it? Delay the purchase of sex games for a year? When 12 year olds can get it?

Nice guy

So a neighbor, one that was helping fix my kids' bed, has an old Aptiva that he wants fixed for use. It runs ME and looks like a museum piece on the inside. It's got one of the original Pentium chips in it (that's a 586 old school, yo).

Ever try to pull the case off of an Aptiva? I hired Charles Atlas, who had this to say:

"Son of a... who built this piece of... hand me that crowbar..."

And he still didn't get the thing open. I eventually referred to a "fan" site, where, amidst cursing and notices regarding a lawsuit, I ran across the 6-fold path of opening the Aptiva case. It was amazing. So elegant, yet complicated... so inspired, yet evil.

I followed the instructions and opened that puppy up, revealing an inch worth of dust on every surface. The damn thing weighs more than my Dad, and I think I know why.

At any rate, it's now time for me to roll out the anti-static mat, make with teh nak3d, and fix this bad boy up.

Decomposing composers

"If, as you live your life, you find yourself mentally composing blog entries about it, post this exact same sentence in your weblog."

Random

No, not Prince Random, although I could've used Prince, if he were a pedophile.

CNN, in their review of "Charlie and the Fudge Factory", or something, compared Johnny Depp to Michael Jackson.

From the MJ classic, "Cool Cinnamon" (or something):

When he came out the doorway
We were speechless, what could we say?
And the kid from the apartment
would join the others on the carpet.

chika-chika hooooo!!

Are you okay, Charlie?

Anyway, I finally got my piano cover back. It involved constantly harrassing them on the phone about it, threatening lawsuits, summoning the wrath of demons and Ivana Trump, but we've got it.

And, of course, I'm imagining flimsy negligees on my wife... because all we've got are flimsy t-shirts. And they're not even white.

Oh, yes, and I've been cranky for the past 3 days for no known reason. Probably these cramps and a craving for chocolate have something to do with it.

Oh, and men are pigs.

But the damage that was originally there... is still there.

Hey!

So, CNN reports that a host of comic related comics are destined for release, with a few really catching my notice:

Ghostrider, with Nicholas Cage playing the lead. My comment: Hell yeah.

Thor, no cast or crew known at this time. My comment: Oh god.

Hey, I'd love to keep this up, but The Thing is that all of the ones listed were Marvel comics. Which is nice, but it doesn't cover the other major house. Also, if you read the article you'll note that Marvel alone has 5,000 characters. I want an "Iron Fist" movie so that Jim Kelly footage can be recycled.

So, what of DC? Wonder Woman was brought up, and there's mention of revising her costume. I'm thinking they should go with something out of Kingdom Come. Seriously armor up the gal, give her a sword and let her get amazonian on someone.

How about The Flash, staring Paul Reubens?

Alright, maybe that was bad. Really, I think Viggo Mortensen would make a kick-butt Hal Jordan. Really. He's got good eyes for it. Him versus Sinestro, kills Sinestro, at the end of that movie Guy Gardner is declared the new Green Lantern... well, you know. At the end of the trilogy Hal gives his life for all of us, Guy is still a collossal jerk, and Kyle has taken over as the new Lantern. Go us.

I'd like to see a Justice League movie, with some references to Justice Leage Antartica thrown in, but I'll never get it. Having to get someone to play Wonder Woman, Batman, and Superman on one screen would probably cost about the same as Saudi Arabia. And last I checked that wasn't on Ebay. Maybe they could resort to the second, or third, stringers though. Maybe 2 minutes of screen time for Superman and you're off with Elongated Man, Blue Beetle, Booster Gold, Fire, Ice, and, yes, Guy Gardner. Let them eat cheese.

So, probably, one should delve deeper than those your most familiar with.

How about, "The Heckler?" The hero that finds villainy and laughs at it. And, no, I'm not making that one up.

"Lobo". This one is rated R, and I ain't sayin' why, but the amount of bloodshed would probably stagger the imagination, and make "The Shining" look like a Yogi Bear cartoon.

"Green Arrow." This one has such possibilities that I really don't feel like going into it. You've probably heard of him... but he brings to mind someone else.

Next Batman movie gets the villain "Deadshot," who gets his own spinoff which doesn't suck. That'd be a nice change of pace, wouldn't it?

And the world needs a "Plasticman" movie. Jim Carrey stars, of course.

"Shazam!" also needs a good cinematic treatment. I can't think of anyone big enough, and yet innocent enough, to pull that one off.

And, of course, there's always "Swamp Thing."

Sheet music

Last night I called the piano store asking for our cover, which has been more than a month suffering repair on a nick. The woman on the other end told me that the boss, the head honcho, numero uno would be in any second. I left a message (sigh) and went about my life.

No reply.

I called today, left another message (this one with a machine), and figured I'd have to employ a special ops team to rescue my piano cover from a dark holding cell where they were doing unspeakable things to it with electricity and varnish.

20 minutes later I got a return phone call.

On the other end a reformed chain-smoker told me that the blew a tire on the way out. But I'd heard about that. Not enough.

His partner had a heartattack, true story >smirk<. They were driving through Nebraska in the middle of no where (redundant) when his associate reached up and clutched his chest (you figure out whose) and started gasping about pain. Mr. Man makes for his cell phone and tells the operator that he's going to meet the ambulance on the highway, heading for the hospital. If he hadn't acted quickly that man could've died.

>crickets chirp<

"Oh, hey. Your piano cover caught fire, so it's down in the shop for a few more repairs. It'll be to you on Monday."

If I had a dog, I'd've kicked it. To Australia.

"See, we were driving down the road, before the heartattack, when these guys in a truck drove past us and threw a cigarette in the back of my truck, and blanket back there caught fire, which was on top of your cover. It's not real bad."

I was so stunned that I didn't bother to ask what the hell made them drag my piano cover out to Chicago instead of dropping it off at my house on the way. The mind boggles at what the man could've come up with.

"Well, it turns out there's a rare imprint on the back of your cover, which means that it might've been owned by Catherine the Great and have gold lined hammers designed by Faberge. That explains the weight... and we have to know if you own a historical piece."

And I'm not getting a discount.

Because you asked for it!

Well, no, you didn't, but I'm going to tell you anyway.

I made a call this evening. One in a long series of calls that almost certainly would end with something like this:

Booger:"We'll have it to you tonight... in one hour."
Me: >sigh< "okay."

And it did.

I would like to have mentioned that this tale had some happy ending, that I now had a vital piece of equipment that I've been longing for these past two months, that my children are now reasonably incapable of injuring themselves in my house, and that I'd stopped reading the Series of Unfortunate Events.

Sadly, most of that is not true.

I have, still, an open piano from which a small child might extract a key and strike anyone within range before I call out "no," whereupon he immediately cries and makes me feel guilty about taking a blunt instrument from him.

And I'm still reading Lemony Snicket books.

Oh, and the damn cover for my piano isn't here.

The past week and a half has consisted primarily of phone calls with the shop that has our cover.

I get this:

"We'll have it to you in two days."
"We'll install it in the morning."
"He went on a trip to Chicago, something about a warehouse and Truman Capote. He won't be back until Monday."
"I mean Tuesday."
"He told me where it was, but I didn't take notes."
"He should be here in an hour."
"He should be here any second... I'll have him call you back."

2 hours pass, and here I am typing on my computer. I think my cover was actually involved in a time travel incident and can be found next to a picture of Kate Winslet on the bottom of the Atlantic.

Attack of the Revenge of the Wrath of the...

Microsoft, that bastion, paragon, et cetera, of intellect is releasing a sequel to that clever, story-oriented, crpg (pronounced "crap" - the "g" is silent) Dungeon Siege.

That's right. Dungeon Siege II.

Having recently played the original, and thinking something along the lines of "what a magnificent work of crpg this is!" I shall go over why I think that something such as this is a bad idea.

1) It sucks.
2) The graphics were merely okay, and that was the best part.
3) It sucks.

The most delightful element, really, was the goblins, and the guy in the leisure suit was a bit much. At that point, I expected the game to take off into a nice steam-punky tunnel where I could find some redeeming qualities.

Hell no. Go kill a dragon, blah, blah, go kill a demon, blah, blah, go kill my goldfish.

At some point you face an army of the dead, but it's just not interesting. Keep hucking fireballs until everything dies.

While the game play was easy, and the graphics weren't bad, the game itself reminded me only vaguely of the tabletop RPGs, and then only in the "I hit it with my axe" juvinality that I got when I was 11.

And they made a sequel?

I truly long for the day when computer companies hire writers to come up with this stuff.

Winter Green

You don't want to know, but I'll share anyway.

I was in the shower the other day, brushing my teeth as I rinsed my hair, because I combine activities where I can. I leaned forward to get the bottom of my neck and spit out my toothpaste.

Onto my penis. GAH!

My past experience (don't ask) with mint in that region was relatively pleasant and low-key. I'm thinking of a popular car type right about now.

Anyway, toothpaste is not like that... not at all. It's gritty and chemically and it BURNS! It burns like a cross to the forehead!

Okay, I'll calm down now and shut up.

Cigarette?

I have Someone Else to thank for this:

You're Lolita!

by Vladimir Nabokov

Considered by most to be depraved and immoral, you are obsessed with
sex. What really tantalizes you is that which deviates from societal standards in every
way, though you admit that this probably isn't the best and you're not sure what causes
this desire. Nonetheless, you've done some pretty nefarious things in your life, and
probably gotten caught for them. The names have been changed, but the problems are real.
Please stay away from children.


Take the Book Quiz
at the Blue Pyramid.

Warranted...

I don't remember much about the day. School was just starting. I was 16 and dreaming that a girl would creep through my bedroom window and strip for no discernable reason and crawl into my bed. I listened to alot of David Lee Roth, but mostly cause it was the only tape I had.

The afternoons were filled with me dragging myself home across a mile of dirt and thorns, the streets lined with broken fraternity houses openly mocking my future and present in one awesome display. Sometimes young women would be helping them wash their cars. And, of course, they were wearing white t-shirts. Probably with wacky slogans like "I'm easy!" on them.

I was so pent up I could cry. The only girl showing any interest in me picked her nose. And kicked me in the crotch.

I crawled home that day. Feeling dark, feeling like prodding something with 4 feet of sharp metal until it stopped crying. I flopped on the couch, where TV was on. Dad was on the well-worn recliner that was his, remote at hand. He was in jeans and a button up shirt, blue plaid.

A Mrs. Smith commercial came on, ending with a long shot of their cherry pie. And my dad interjects, "and every man loves a good cherry pie!"

I can feel my face turning red, my lips pursing, my cheeks bulging... he's hit the ticklish spot and I run to my room to avoid the torrent of laughter that threatens to rip me open. I sink to the floor, great gasps, chuckles, giggling, raw guffaws echoing in the small bedroom. I'm blind with tears of mirth when I finally calm down.

From my father, who must be talking to Mom, I hear: "Think he knows?"

And it was an awakening. Probably on both sides, since he started handing me condoms and expecting me to know the scene, but it brought me to that point where I realized that my father must've been in the same position, that he had grown up, learned about sex, probably done about the same thing in front of his father.

Calling all eunechs...

I love Penny Arcade. At some point, and I dug but didn't find it, they mentioned that a parents group (of course) had put out a list of video games too violent for children.

Somewhere in an alternate dimension a 16 year old me is drooling over this like a checklist... because that's what it is. I hear that somebody doesn't want me to play something, and I'll claw my way through reinforced concrete to touch the stuff. And I can't imagine children being much different now than they were then. Really.

One of them belongs to a favorite franchise, hitman. This is the franchise I go to when certain elements of my life make me want to scream. It used to be Doom but it lacks a certain finesse of which I'm fond.

The thing has a big "M" on the front, and it doesn't stand for "Mensch". Wal-mart won't sell it to kids, the rating hasn't dropped to "T" or anything, and it's not going to.

Most violent games make no bones about the nature of the content. Hitman is pretty sedate as far as covers go. The word "Hitman", with a picture of a guy with guns. You might think the game doesn't include blood. You'd be stupid, but that's not illegal. Read. The. Back. Words like "sin", "violence", "blood", et cetera should be strong indicators.

Other games are worse, blood dripping off swords while grinning corpses litter the landscape, maybe a charnel house for color, with heart-warming titles like: "Your @$$ is mine: Blood Vengeance 3". As cool as this game might seem to your average teen, it's got all the earmarks of not being a "kid's game". Keep it out of your kid's hands. Don't buy it! Don't let them buy it. Invade their privacy... whatever. You don't trust 'em, that's an issue for you and your family.

Don't take it out on everyone else.

Pax Nabisco, people.

Kurtzy

Scott Kurtz had some interesting points.

Know your audience, I think, is the most important element of communication. Speak their language. This, of course, means that sometimes cursing is not only accepted, it's necessary.

Another comic, I forget which, demonstrated this with a car mechanic. The main character leans over his engine, looks at the mechanic, and says "I think my main shaft is stripped" (or something.). The mechanic looks at him blankly. The main character then says "My !#%$ main shaft is !@$&!#" and the mechanic says "Well, why didn't you !#%@ say so?"

"Forgot where I was."

It's like that. Oddly, the military wasn't entirely like that. My friends and I got along fine without much cussing, as did most of my supervisors. There were people I interacted with that would just about constantly spew vulgarities unless talking to an officer. But I couldn't talk to them like that without that blank look.

Try speaking Spanish in a room of Francophones and it's the same response.

I'll shut up now.

Love & Marriage

This is a rather interesting article about the state of teen sexuality. Or, at least, what pediatricians think it is. And what parent groups think it is. And somewhere out there is a bunch of lying teenagers giving an equally invalid view of what it is.

By the time I hit 13 I'd read up fully on female anatomy. My first wife knew less about her anatomy than I did, before I touched her. In my teens I had an eerie ability to locate a nipple blindfolded.

No sex. I was well informed. Educated beyond the pale. I packed a rubber after about 16. No sex.

No sex until 22. Some of it can be attributed to being socially inept, and being "that freak," but I'm certain that some girls would've just laid me down and done the deed, given the chance. Replaying my youth in my head, there were definite moments that were all about me NOT WANTING TO.

Of course, by the time I hit my prime, sex was scary. Drugs only slightly more scary.

I believe that some folk do well with the facts laid out in front of them. That's all they need, really.

Some folks just need a little boost. Tell them something about relationships being better without sex until marriage or something. I dunno. Get stupid, it's going to have to be an emotional appeal. Make 'em feel guilty. "Everytime you pork, baby Jesus cries."

Some people need medication or rubbers. They aren't capable of controlling themselves, and probably should be locked up until later in life, but you can't realistically do that. Get 'em to a Dr., let 'em know you love 'em, and make sure they know how to use the stuff. Don't, for the love of your child, be bashful. I think most kids fall under this category, really. 50% having sex kind of suggests that.

Some people should probably have been abortions, and are just going to drain society while contributing minimally... if at all. And they'll spawn generations of the same crap. Slap Norplant in 'em (male and female) or maybe surgery is the answer. I dunno. Killing 'em seems a little strong. The world needs ditch-diggers, too.

Cars

"Magic: the Gathering"(tm) is a card game you may have heard of. In this game there are 5 colors that can be combined in creating a deck, each one representing a different perspective:

White: plains, purity, society, nobility, protection
Black: swamps, death, corruption
Red: Mountains, fire, anger, violence
Blue: Oceans, water, thought
Green: Forest, growth, wilderness, life

In effect, every deck you make, or what you play, is a philosophical statement of the moment. Play Black/Red and you're looking to kill. Green/White? Outlive. You get the point.

But amongst these cards is another class: colorless. The lands you tap for mana (mountains, oceans, etc...) are colorless.

As are the machines.

There are magical machines that, though they cost more, don't require a specific type of mana to use.

It is this type of deck that I love most. But it doesn't represent anything. Cold reason? Look to blue. Hatred? Black. Anger? Red.

The machines are just the slow, inevitable march of me.

Heinlein

A friend and I were having a discussion about favorite authors when Heinlein came up. I've only read the one book ("Stranger in a Strange Land") but the thing was thick with symbolism and message... a bit heavy handed for me, and I said so. If this book is typical of his work then I will have to generally avoid him in favor of authors I find more informative or entertaining.

My friend responded that my claims were unfounded and set forth to set me straight on Heinlein's work. He sited intelligence and wisdom of the author and damn near cried blood about the beauty of his work.

Ummm...

He may have the intellect of Einstein and the wisdom of Ghandi, but it doesn't mean that he's a great writer.

And beauty is in the eye of the beholder.

I have a permit for that...

I'm sitting here thinking of a plot for a Thor movie. I can't say why, really. A dream I had suggested Thor to me, and I know jack about the actual character beyond the very basics. I could make a whole 'nother Thor for all I know.

But the thing that I pulled away from my dream was that gods, and religion, are supposed to engender hope. It's one of the few social services that they perform that can't be performed by others.

It's also the winning answer to the riddle game... the one the demon doesn't win against Dream in the story arc "A Season of Mist" from the Sandman series. Neil Gaiman is awesome.