Friday, February 06, 2004

I keep meaning to post about this, the world's best new show.
Jim D. is set to be an uncle. Can I get away with calling him Unky J? Most likely, no, I may not.

I saw Bowie last night. You did not.

Thursday, February 05, 2004

Leaguers, RHPT.com has posted that he does not ever get free schwag from his many readers. I do, upon occasion, receive items, but I try to keep it an even exchange.

But it's getting to be a bit dull here at League of Melbotis HQ. So you all know what that means: Contest time.

New Contest: A present for Randy!

We at The League all like RHPT.com and enjoy his frequent postings, and so we, at The League, have decided that we will buy Randy a present and send it to him. However, we also strongly suspect Randy makes more money than The League, so what to buy him...?



Here are the rules:

1) The League is not made out of money. Limit gift cost to a reasonable amount unless you wish to foot the bill.
2) Suggestion must not be obscene. Unless particularly funny and easy to find.
3) Must not require League to give credit card number to shady and anonymous source.
4) Entries must include at least one complete sentence explaining why Randy needs the gift you name.

I'm not going to put a fixed price on the gift suggestion. But let's not go nuts here. And let's try to give Randy something to look forward to. Do not send entries you do not want to see printed like "Let's give Randy a punch in the eye, because he's a bastard." That one will come back to haunt you. I promise.

Send entries to: Melbotis buys Randy a cheap gift.

Viva la Randy.

Oh, winners get, say... I don't know. We'll figure it out later.

I've actually had this problem when I've been on video shoots. The sound is REALLY annoying. And I wasn't mixing audio for the President. Essentially, the problem is that two wireless mics starting interfering with each other's signal, creating an odd feedback loop. It's difficult to deal with, and the first time it happened, I had no idea it was happening. Totally sucked.
what's new in fashion.... Seriously.
Too bad most people don't own the mineral rights under their houses.
My most important news is that Killer Croc showed up yesterday in the mail. Folks, if you ever question the fact that Jim Dedman is a good egg, you may look no further than the Killer Croc action figure which I now have in my possession.

I got home last night, and the box was sitting on the couch. Whomever Jim procured the figure from knew his card rated gradings for action toys. Because the box was really exceptionally large, and it was so filled with foam, i had to dig around to find the toy.

Jamie was doing her exercise routine when I opened the box, so she missed the grand unveiling.
"Where's Killer Croc?"
"He's in my office. On the stool. In the package."
She toddled off.
"He looks like Godzilla!"
"Indeed."
now, I wanted to take digital photos and post them up, but we recently bought a new computer, and our now archaic digital camera does not jive with Windows XP. I've been working with Camedia and Olympus to revive the thing, but it may be of no use.
Nontheless, I want to show Croc in all his glory, so he hasn't made it out of the "blister" packaging yet. As soon as I can take some photos, i will. I need to put Croc into context and truly reveal that which is the Fortress of Nerditude.

That, and I was insane crazy tired when I got home last night, and I was in bed by 9:00.

Here is a photo I found online of the Killer Croc figure.
Tonight I go to see David Bowie here in Phoenix. It's been an extraordinarily long time since I've gone to a show. Almost two years, I think. I had tickets to both Peter Gabriel and Beck, and on both occasions, other matters came up and I couldn't go. Which was expensive and irritating.

I saw Bowie around the fall of 1995. It was my controversial first date with Jamie, which she still claims was not a date. Which i understand.

a) I was seeing someone else at the time
b) My brother invited himself along without asking if it were okay

My brother called me a few hours before I was to go to the show to see what I was up to. I explained I was going to see Bowie, and that Nine Inch Nails was to be the first band to play. He knew full well they were playing at South Park Meadows in Austin, which has no real capacity. Plus, he asked who I was going with.
"Jamie."
Look, I knew about three or four Jamie's at the time, so he assumed it was a different Jamie, which is okay. But then said, "Okay. Well, i'm going to get a ticket, and we'll go down there together."
Which was probably good.

Anyway, I look forward to seeing Bowie once again under less awkward circumstances and from a much closer proximity. I think Macy Gray is opening for him, a singer who I think is okay, but who I only think about when she pops up for a few seconds in Spider-Man.

Wednesday, February 04, 2004

Usually articles on prisoner abuse aren't that funny, but I liked this line:

"They assumed it wasn't a big deal. It was a big deal," Walker said, explaining that officers and deputies also practiced using the Taser on one another to "experience the incapacitating voltage it administers."

Okay. Now, I'm no expert on electiricity, but I used to fix the ski-ball machines during my tenure at Chuck E. Cheese (circa 1990). I can tell you this: it hurts like a bastard when you get electrified by the ski-ball machine. it's all tingly and weird. And it creeps up on you. You may not even notice it at first until you're like "hey, my heart stopped!" Anyway, again, I'm no expert on electrity, nor am I a law-enforcement officer, but who wouldn't pay $5.00 to watch a bunch of corrections officers hitting each other with 50,000 volts? We're missing out on a real opportunity for syndicated TV here.
And thanks once again to Shoemaker! Here's a story from Onion AV on Alex Ross, comic artist extraordinaire.
Today is going to suck. It started sucking at 9:45 last night. Hurray.
All students are bastards.

Here is an article on comics, including a brief history and a "state of the industry" report.

Tuesday, February 03, 2004

It appears Emily is hopped up on goofballs as she continues in her misguided, yet relentless pursuit to join with the forces of evil.
Apparently Emily rates qualified indifference on part of both pet and owner as a desirable trait in her pet of choice, the house cat. While convenient, it's that same indifference which makes cats the less loyal and less loving of animals. The other qualities Emily describes also fit dogs to a "T", as well.

Prior to Mel, here is a list of animals I've played host to for long enough to describe the animals as pets:

2 dogs (Puffy and Misty)
1 cat (Jeff)
innumerable fish
2 gerbils (Leonard Nimoy and Richard M. Nixon)
1 hamster (Sandy)
2 Guinea Pigs (Speedy and I don't remember)
2 rabbits (Skeeter and Skooter)
1 Boa constrictor (Baby Boa)
2 turtles (Hurdle and Floyd)
1 Python (Perry the Python)
1 Iguana (Flash)
2 hermit crabs
2 fire newts (Zap and I don't remember)
2 other lizards (Exit and I don't know)
1 tarantula (Mr. Crawly)

In short, I've had the pets which you can ignore. Give me 116 pounds of Golden Retriever anyday. Good 'ol Mel. Hope he's not too bored at home.

Hopefully Emily can turn away from the abyss of feline despair before it's too late.
In response to my query, Emily posts about her lack of desire to allow Randy to become the proud co-habitant of man's best friend.
Randy writes:

Dear Mel,

Are you single? I know a cute golden retriever named "Princess" who I think you would like. She's only two years old, and is very friendly and outgoing. She loves to play and she lives with about 4 cats, so she shares your pain. The only problem is that Princess lives in Franklin, TN. Will that be a problem?



Randy


Dear Randy,

Mel have swinging bachelor lifestyle Mel very content with. Mel not certain Mel can make committment of long term relationship when Mel mostly confined to backyard and house. TN sounds like far off scary place with no vowels. As much as Mel would like to sniff at Princess and possibly steal Princess toys, Mel not sure if Princess would be right for Mel. Mel mostly introverted and like to stay home and get chubby man attention. Just last night Mel refused to leave chubby man alone, so mel got lots of petting. "Leave me alone! Go bother Jamie!" said chubby man, but I know he is just kidding, so mel put paw on him and really lean into him then.
"Fine. You want a milkbone?" said chubby man. And then my tail start wagging, which tell mel that Mel must be excited. So Mel run again to cabinet to show chubby man where milkbone is in case chubby man forgot. Then Mel go outside.
If Princess feel this lifestyle suit Princess, then that okay. Mel not really sure what to do with girlfriend anyway since Mel have "procedure".
Randy writes:

Dear Mel,

After reading some of your responses, I detect a note of resentment against Jeff the cat. Am I correct? And if so, why do you hate Jeff? Is it some deep instinctive thing or does it have something to do with your mother?


Dear Randy,

Mel has thought about Randy questions. Cat is mean bitey thing that bite Mel leg and bottom just because Mel pass by. Cat only nice to Mel when cat is cold. Stupid cat. To do with mother? Mel think that sometime a cat is just a cat.
Ever a fan of the democratic process, the League trotted off to our local polling place this morning to vote in favor of the Reverend Al Sharpton in the Arizona Democratic Primary. The League is keeping it's collective fingers crossed that The Reverend is able to pull it out in Arizona!

Our polling place was a small Baptist church off the side of a road. Jamie and I pulled in and looked at the church, and while it looked like a light or two might be on, evidence of democracy in action seemed... less than forthcoming.

"Is it open yet?"
Jamie looked at her little flyer we got in the mail. "Six A.M. until-"
"Man, not many democrats out in Chandler..." I whistled.
I think subconsciously Jamie and I had agreed not to tell one another who our candidate of choice was. I turned to her and said "I have no idea who you're voting for."
"Yup." she nodded.
There was a guy leaving as we came in, and there at the table were, I think, 6 volunteers. And somewhere in the neighborhood of 10 "booths". And the two of us.
I needlessly produced my registration card and looked at the huge book of registered voters in our area.
I gave my name and got the shortest ballot I'd seen since elementary school. Just one item to vote on, but holy cow, were there a lot of names on that list. A tear trickled down my cheek as I realized Braun is no longer running, and thusly removing the opportunity to elect a person who seems like the world's best next door neighbor.
Anyway, I put in my vote for the Reverend, and off we went.
But, yeah... I would love to know how many votes total come out of our precinct, because my polling place was a cold and lonely place.
In Austin we got to vote at the elementary school down the street, which was utterly invigorating. it appeared almost everyone walked to the school from the area, and stood in line kind of grinning. No nervous apprehension at our polling place! Kids filed by and hand drawn pictures were tacked to the wall. People didn't talk much, and nobody was shouting about their candidate, but it was fun to just know we were all their to participate together.
Okay, I'm a nerd and I like to vote.

Monday, February 02, 2004

Meant to thank Jeff via e-mail for this link, but my mail keeps getting returned to me.

Love this stuff.
genius
The potential for FCC violation was enough for me to believe that the whole "janet shows her boob" thing didn't go down as planned.

Now, having reviewed The Drudge Report today, I fully believe the thing was pre-planned in some way or other, but it just seems like such an ill-conceived publicity stunt, and that SURELY those involved had to know it would end badly... Or, at least, how this was going to play in living rooms in middle-America.

But reviewing the footage leads to the almost inescapable conclusion that Timberlake was intentionally tearing at the outfit. Whether Jackson herslef is involved is almost impossible to determine.

Again, one would wonder, if the boob's appearance were, in fact, intentional, were they really aware of how sad and boring their half-time show was that to make it exciting, they had to add a boob? Are Jackson's sales slumping so badly and her managers so uncreative that they've resorted to "shock" tactics?

I'm not sure it's the boob which is so surprising. It was the unnecessary addition which was the surprise. I mean, had Timberlake yelled "F**k Wisconsin!" at the end, I'd probably be just as obsessed with finding an anwer.
What was going on there? Did they think the FCC takes a nap on Superbowl Sunday? Did they not care? Is Jackson's career that bad? Does CBS really believe grown adults listen to Justin Timberlake and P. Diddy? Why do all Janet Jackson songs after Rythm Nation sound exactly alike? Was Nelly on fire? Was that a real flag Kid Rock cut up to wear as a poncho?

I dunno. I hate to break this to all of you marching band nerds and drill team pixies, but half-time is not actually meant to entertain you. Half-time is meant for going to the can and getting another hotdog. Let's keep it that way.
I keep telling myself I'm going to be famous for being the guy who has the kick-ass Groundhog Day party. But I've never had one. Groundhog Day, Arbor Day or President's Day. I mean, really give people something to look forward to.

Anyway, for those of us in the desert, an extended winter sounds great. Sorry, people who live in wintery, inhospitable climates. Us in the desert are totally excited about the prospect of a lengthier winter.

Happy Groundhog Day, Leaguers.
Would it be cruelty, evil or sheer bad temperament which would cause one person to prevent another from getting a dog? Dogs are good. Dogs poop in the yard instead of the litter box. Dogs protect your house and valuables. Dogs are sweet and pay attention to you. Dogs like to lay on the floor with you when you're tired. Dogs can make you happy. So what kind of twisted evil would prevent you from wanting to share your home with a dog? I cannot imagine. But it would make you a bad, bad person.
Randy continues to refuse to go to his reunion. Is he cowering in cowardly cowardice? I refuse to believe Randy cannot face his past. indeed. Randy should look at this as the opportunity to embrace that which he once loathed and dreaded. It is time for Randy to return to Houston and share the wisdom he has gained upon his journeys.
Okay, yes, it's a bit silly to get that pumped up about a boob. I do, after all, have cable.
Let me make clear here that what I was squealing like a drunk otter about had a lot more to do with some screwing up that badly on national TV. Scratch that. International TV.
Look, like the Oscars, I have a love/ hate relationship with the Superbowl. Most of the time, the game is deadly dull and the best part about it is that I've called in sick in advance, so I can nurse my hangover on Monday. The adage that "you watch it for the commercials" isn't very realistic anymore. Ad agencies got wise, and nobody blows money on these ads the way they used to. Or, at least, the new or interesting commercials get used up in the first 45 minutes (how about that Ford GT?).
And I hateses, I hateses the half-time show. Ever since David Copperfield lamed it up back around '89, I've been pretty wary of the whole enterprise. Jamie claims last year's half-time show was okay, but I'm still fixated on how abso-ludicrous the Britney Spears/ Aerosmith half-time show was two years ago. Seriously. It was awful.
The pre-show entertainment this year was cheesy and smarmy enough, but what was up with the Astronaut thing? I mean, really. It was great to see a shuttle crew, but two minutes before kick-off, nobody needs to be serenaded by Josh Groban (except my mum, who loves Groban). In fact, the Panthers may have cause to sue if they can prove it was Groban's serenade which made them lose the will to live, and thereby, the will to win the game. I wasn't sure what the angelic children's choir, Groban, NASA, some Apache helicopters and a stretching Tom Brady all had to do with each other, but the directors made sure I saw all of these things in a beautiful montage.
(***UPDATE *** okay, yes. I feel bad. It was, in fact, nice to remember the anniversary of the tragedy of the Space Shuttle Columbia's destruction over Texas. But... the astronaut guy... in the suit... on the elevator... then waving the flag while the flag kids ran around... and the kiddy choir... and Tom Brady stretching... c'mon. Work with me here.)
Anyway, this is the context of the Superbowl. Cheesy. Wholesome. Over-hyped. Uber-patriotic and fun for the whole family.
So if I find Janet Jackson's boob suddenly springing forth to somehow create some cognitive dissonance, you will have to forgive me. We are not the French. Yes, we Americans should all be more desensitized to the naked female form and not feel inclined to gouge out our own eyes for the sin of seeing the naked female flesh. But we are not desensitized. Especially when the form belongs to Janet Jackson. Performing with the heinous excuse for entertainment which is Justin Timberlake. At half-time. Of the Superbowl. Sigh. What do you want? It's MTV.

Sunday, February 01, 2004

I was originally going to hop online just to say "there's nothing like a Superbowl half-time show to make you weep for humanity", when the whole Justin/ Janet thing happened. And while it's only been about ten minutes, I understand that I was the second person to call my buddy in Austin who was TIVOing the show. My buddy also promised to have the footage online by tomorrow morning, so hopefully I'll know more then.

Sadly, Jamie was looking at the mustard she was putting on her hotdog and missed the whole thing. So, yeah, it was just me hopping up and down alone on the couch.

UPDATE: Jim sent me this link. Photos. PG-13 rated.

UPDATE 2: This just gets weirder and weirder.