ANN COULTER NUDE!!!!
Well, I got my first hit from someone looking for pics of Ann Coulter in her birthday suit. On 7/14/2003 at 2:07:37 PM logged the first of what I hope to be many such inquiries. I posted at 1:13pm on Friday, so that'll give you an idea how long it took.
Congratulations America. You made it thru the weekend without anyone resorting to this.
Monday, July 14, 2003
He may have been dead for a century, but having watched this performance, I think Beyonce's dancing is something Grant would have firmly supported.
God speaks to each of us in different ways. TO some of us, He calms us in our moments of turmoil. Others He calls to duty. To Deion Sanders He has spoken and asked him to be really, really cheap and kind of bizarre.
I took an animation class in the final year that the University of Texas at Austin offered a non-digital animation selection. The course taught me quite a bit about film making beyond the boundaries of animation, but it also taught me a Zen-like patience that previously eluded me. You see, animation has traditionally been captured one frame at a time. There are, in traditional film, 24 frames in a single second of film. In order to create the illusion of motion on a large screen, in a single second, 24 images have ticked by. It's called Persistence of Vision.
This means that for every second of an animated film that you watch, 24 times a crew has replaced the image you are currently seeing with the next image in an exacted order. The next image is a minor and minute change, but absolutely essential to the illusion of "realistic" motion. In addition to this, these images must synchronize lip movements in a way that not only matches the audio track (usually of someone speaking), but also must match the shapes our lips create when pronoucning certain consonant noises and vowel sounds that we each intuitively recognize.
Also, timing must be determined for the length of a movement, a realistic bounce must be put into a walk cycle, and one must know exactly how many frames are funniest from an anvil entering a fram to crushing Elmer Fudd (13 frames). Each background must be drawn in detail for these animated characters to dance across. Each time an angle changes, a new background must also be produced. During filiming, each frame is documented as to which "cell" has been shot, how far the camera has been tilted, zoomed, panned, etc... and stored for later retrieval in case something goes wrong and you must do it all over again.
The process is meticulous, it is obsessive and the end results are all too infrequently the ones that the film makers were hoping for. But the two months I spent drawing each cell of a 2 minute animation (which had no beginning, middle or end to it) was possibly the most rewarding portion of my entire film school career. For two months, each night I had to draw the same characters over and over and over in slight changes in positioning, with the slightest alteration in form and movement. I cheated in the end and used photographs for my backgrounds, and I certainly had no desire to attempt dialogue. But i did it. Totally on my own, I created and drew two minutes of character animation. The beats flowed more or less how I wanted them to, and I forgave myself the sliding motion in the walk cycle, because it was STILL a walk cycle.
For two months, I was viewing the world at 24fps. I could see each move I made in the most minute detail. I counted parts of a second from a glass falling to it striking to the shards ceasing their bouncing. I watched not just how long my hands moved, but how they moved, and I watched people's eyes in detail, because how long was too long for one of my own two cartoon creations to look upon one another?
At the screening, no one knew what we had done in that class. Our animation was described as crude and unsubtle. Or it wasn't "funny." My classmates who had shown so little interest in the course from day one did lazy little projects with charcoal and paper. "I did mine all in one night!" one guy bragged to me. I just nodded. The audinece liked his charcoal smudge better than my "traditional" animations. Fair enough. "But you just dissolved between existing drawings..." "You could have done that." And I agreed.
The next year there was no animation course taught, and when it was reborn, it was a modern digital animation course, more interested on effects and generating titles for other folks' student films. And I'm sure they all worked really hard. But they didn't do anything. The computer did it.
I tried digital and couldn't get into it. It was too cold and the rules of engagement had changed. You plotted what you wanted and walked away from the computer to let it render. Gone were the mad evenings spent leaning over a light table tracing one frame from the previous, gone was the midnight to 4:00am slot on the Oxberry. Gone was the chance to try some new madness as your mind explored the mysteries of what makes up a second, and seeing what you could press yourself to do. They were creating new worlds without worrying about how the world they lived in worked. How does sand fall? You don't watch sand, you find a plug-in online. How does someone run? Don't watch them... find a walk cycle in a user-group and accelerate. If you're lucky, it'll add some jiggle to her breasts.
I miss the old tools. Those things used to work. They could be beautiful and wonderful, and nothing... not one shot for even one one moment was ever taken for granted. Everything was plotted and planned and dreamt of. Each hand which went into the projects found their own way to add something unique, something the artists could perform at especially well. They couldn't always improvise, but they could add touches, flourishes that only a mind at an easel will dream up after drawing the same face too many times.
This was supposed to be about why I wasn't a fan of the new MTV produced Spider-Man cartoon, but I think I'll save that for later, or I'll leave you to seek it out and draw your own inferences. I'm going to go track down my old film school reeel and have a good laugh. That cartoon is just god awful, but it's mine.
This means that for every second of an animated film that you watch, 24 times a crew has replaced the image you are currently seeing with the next image in an exacted order. The next image is a minor and minute change, but absolutely essential to the illusion of "realistic" motion. In addition to this, these images must synchronize lip movements in a way that not only matches the audio track (usually of someone speaking), but also must match the shapes our lips create when pronoucning certain consonant noises and vowel sounds that we each intuitively recognize.
Also, timing must be determined for the length of a movement, a realistic bounce must be put into a walk cycle, and one must know exactly how many frames are funniest from an anvil entering a fram to crushing Elmer Fudd (13 frames). Each background must be drawn in detail for these animated characters to dance across. Each time an angle changes, a new background must also be produced. During filiming, each frame is documented as to which "cell" has been shot, how far the camera has been tilted, zoomed, panned, etc... and stored for later retrieval in case something goes wrong and you must do it all over again.
The process is meticulous, it is obsessive and the end results are all too infrequently the ones that the film makers were hoping for. But the two months I spent drawing each cell of a 2 minute animation (which had no beginning, middle or end to it) was possibly the most rewarding portion of my entire film school career. For two months, each night I had to draw the same characters over and over and over in slight changes in positioning, with the slightest alteration in form and movement. I cheated in the end and used photographs for my backgrounds, and I certainly had no desire to attempt dialogue. But i did it. Totally on my own, I created and drew two minutes of character animation. The beats flowed more or less how I wanted them to, and I forgave myself the sliding motion in the walk cycle, because it was STILL a walk cycle.
For two months, I was viewing the world at 24fps. I could see each move I made in the most minute detail. I counted parts of a second from a glass falling to it striking to the shards ceasing their bouncing. I watched not just how long my hands moved, but how they moved, and I watched people's eyes in detail, because how long was too long for one of my own two cartoon creations to look upon one another?
At the screening, no one knew what we had done in that class. Our animation was described as crude and unsubtle. Or it wasn't "funny." My classmates who had shown so little interest in the course from day one did lazy little projects with charcoal and paper. "I did mine all in one night!" one guy bragged to me. I just nodded. The audinece liked his charcoal smudge better than my "traditional" animations. Fair enough. "But you just dissolved between existing drawings..." "You could have done that." And I agreed.
The next year there was no animation course taught, and when it was reborn, it was a modern digital animation course, more interested on effects and generating titles for other folks' student films. And I'm sure they all worked really hard. But they didn't do anything. The computer did it.
I tried digital and couldn't get into it. It was too cold and the rules of engagement had changed. You plotted what you wanted and walked away from the computer to let it render. Gone were the mad evenings spent leaning over a light table tracing one frame from the previous, gone was the midnight to 4:00am slot on the Oxberry. Gone was the chance to try some new madness as your mind explored the mysteries of what makes up a second, and seeing what you could press yourself to do. They were creating new worlds without worrying about how the world they lived in worked. How does sand fall? You don't watch sand, you find a plug-in online. How does someone run? Don't watch them... find a walk cycle in a user-group and accelerate. If you're lucky, it'll add some jiggle to her breasts.
I miss the old tools. Those things used to work. They could be beautiful and wonderful, and nothing... not one shot for even one one moment was ever taken for granted. Everything was plotted and planned and dreamt of. Each hand which went into the projects found their own way to add something unique, something the artists could perform at especially well. They couldn't always improvise, but they could add touches, flourishes that only a mind at an easel will dream up after drawing the same face too many times.
This was supposed to be about why I wasn't a fan of the new MTV produced Spider-Man cartoon, but I think I'll save that for later, or I'll leave you to seek it out and draw your own inferences. I'm going to go track down my old film school reeel and have a good laugh. That cartoon is just god awful, but it's mine.
Sunday, July 13, 2003
Friday, July 11, 2003
Jerry
Thanks, Randy, for the link on Jerry Springer's Senate run. Please see the attached link in the sidebar to the left. Jerry is a man of the people. And is he really so different from Kay Bailey Hutchison?
Social Experiment:
How many hits will I get if I add the phrase: Ann Coulter nude naked ?
I'll keep you posted.
BTW, my job has now assigned me a Blackberry. I was already not too excited about the idea of being followed everywhere by an electronic leash, but I just realized... it's hissing at me. It's making weird little electronic hissing noises...
How many hits will I get if I add the phrase: Ann Coulter nude naked ?
I'll keep you posted.
BTW, my job has now assigned me a Blackberry. I was already not too excited about the idea of being followed everywhere by an electronic leash, but I just realized... it's hissing at me. It's making weird little electronic hissing noises...
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