I'm still getting hits trickling in from people looking for nude pics of Ann Coulter. I think I had one or two yesterday and one today. Well, done, America.
Wednesday, July 16, 2003
Tuesday, July 15, 2003
VIVA LANCE!!!!
As a former Austinite, I get excited about bicycles once a year during the Tour de France. Austin's own Lance Armstrong is going for victory number 5 in this most grueling of human tests. While I think riding a bicycle for a living is as silly as walking for a living, I still get really jazzed about this guy.
Whether he actually wins or not on this go-round, Lance is an amazing athlete, and he also, apparently drives a Subaru. But Lance is also the brains or at least the mouthpiece for the Lance Armstrong Foundation. Lance had a nasty bout with cancer many years ago and he came through it with flying colors, and he's always used his prominence as the World's foremost cyclist to promote awareness of cancer research and to promote the US Postal Service.
So hurrah, Lance, and best of luck.
As a former Austinite, I get excited about bicycles once a year during the Tour de France. Austin's own Lance Armstrong is going for victory number 5 in this most grueling of human tests. While I think riding a bicycle for a living is as silly as walking for a living, I still get really jazzed about this guy.
Whether he actually wins or not on this go-round, Lance is an amazing athlete, and he also, apparently drives a Subaru. But Lance is also the brains or at least the mouthpiece for the Lance Armstrong Foundation. Lance had a nasty bout with cancer many years ago and he came through it with flying colors, and he's always used his prominence as the World's foremost cyclist to promote awareness of cancer research and to promote the US Postal Service.
So hurrah, Lance, and best of luck.
Welcome back RHPT
Randy has blogged once more! He's returned to the world of navel gazing and spouting off of partially founded opinions. Welcome back, mi amigo. Es bueno.
Randy has blogged once more! He's returned to the world of navel gazing and spouting off of partially founded opinions. Welcome back, mi amigo. Es bueno.
I could not tell you why, but this post on JimD's blog is absolutely hysterical. Maybe you have to have been following Jim's blog for a while to find it funny, but I had to share.
I just got my paycheck, and immediately checked it to see how the tax cut was supposed to effect me. I was especially curious after the flap occuring around RHPT.com's post from a few weeks ago about his tax cut. Randy had noted a $20 increase.
I noted a loss of $1.20. C'est la vie.
My beautiful wife Jamie has taken it upon herself to learn the guitar. I am quite pleased with her choice as she has chosen a hobby which does not require me to lose any square footage in our house, nor does it require me to pay out for the feeding and maintenance of a hoofed mammal. Previously, Jamie has been a voracious reader, and avid taunter of the cat. Now she is cursing like a sailor while trying to learn how to tune her Alvarez.
I am not musically inclined. I played piano for a year when I was 7. For two years in middle school I played the Tuba, but found it was only adding to the malaise of being labeled "nerd boy" by much of my middle school. I have no ear for music, and it was all too late that I realized what a neat trick for picking up girls a guitar can be.
At any rate, I wish Jamie the best of luck in her new endeavor. We are truly rocking out to such hits as "Twinkle, Twinkle, Little Star" and "Jingle Bells".
I noted a loss of $1.20. C'est la vie.
My beautiful wife Jamie has taken it upon herself to learn the guitar. I am quite pleased with her choice as she has chosen a hobby which does not require me to lose any square footage in our house, nor does it require me to pay out for the feeding and maintenance of a hoofed mammal. Previously, Jamie has been a voracious reader, and avid taunter of the cat. Now she is cursing like a sailor while trying to learn how to tune her Alvarez.
I am not musically inclined. I played piano for a year when I was 7. For two years in middle school I played the Tuba, but found it was only adding to the malaise of being labeled "nerd boy" by much of my middle school. I have no ear for music, and it was all too late that I realized what a neat trick for picking up girls a guitar can be.
At any rate, I wish Jamie the best of luck in her new endeavor. We are truly rocking out to such hits as "Twinkle, Twinkle, Little Star" and "Jingle Bells".
Monday, July 14, 2003
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.
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.
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...
The Escapist
If you didn't read The Amazing Adventures of Kavalier and Clay, you should have. It's written by Michael Chabon, and eventually won The Pulitzer Prize. It's the story of immigrant artist/ magician/ escape artist Joe Kavalier and his American cousin (Clay) who become comic artists in pre-WWII America.
It's about a hell of a lot more than that, and, as I found from watching the History Channel's documentary about Superhero comic books, quite a few of the story's plotpoints are lifted from actual events in the history of the comics biz. With Superman squarely at the forefront of the comics revolution, Kavalier and Clay create The Escapist. He's in the tradition of Doc Savage, or possibly The Shadow, but armed with a magical golden key, he's not just an amazing escape artist, he's there to help others escape tyrrany. I leave it to you to read the novel.
At any rate, this winter, Dark Horse comics is going to begin publishing comics based around The Escapist's exploits as described in the novel. The suggestion is that the comics will be done in classic Golden Age style. I very much look forward to seeing what Dark Horse is able to accomplish.
It's about a hell of a lot more than that, and, as I found from watching the History Channel's documentary about Superhero comic books, quite a few of the story's plotpoints are lifted from actual events in the history of the comics biz. With Superman squarely at the forefront of the comics revolution, Kavalier and Clay create The Escapist. He's in the tradition of Doc Savage, or possibly The Shadow, but armed with a magical golden key, he's not just an amazing escape artist, he's there to help others escape tyrrany. I leave it to you to read the novel.
At any rate, this winter, Dark Horse comics is going to begin publishing comics based around The Escapist's exploits as described in the novel. The suggestion is that the comics will be done in classic Golden Age style. I very much look forward to seeing what Dark Horse is able to accomplish.
Spidey Cartoon
Hey, Leaguers...
The 3D animated Spider-Man cartoon is debuting tonight on MTV.
Some of the best animation of the past 10 years has appeared on MTV (the oddly plotless Aeon Flux and the equally challenging The Maxx), so look to see what Marvel studios has cooked up for this show. It's based equally on comics and the movie from what I can tell. I think tonight's villain is Electro.
The 3D animated Spider-Man cartoon is debuting tonight on MTV.
Some of the best animation of the past 10 years has appeared on MTV (the oddly plotless Aeon Flux and the equally challenging The Maxx), so look to see what Marvel studios has cooked up for this show. It's based equally on comics and the movie from what I can tell. I think tonight's villain is Electro.
Thursday, July 10, 2003
As I will frequently complain, I live in the sticks. It's not just that the people of Arizona act like illiterate savages or Canadians from time to time, it's that I live less than a mile from two substantial dairy farms. It smells like cow flop and is generally really ugly. But you're always welcome to come visit.
Anyway, CNN posted this story on the ridiculous town of Gilbert, Arizona today. Apparently, it's the fastest gowing city in the US of A. While my mailing address is Chandler, and my work address is Tempe, I do live almost directly on the border of Chandler (which is listed as being #4 in the top 5 fastest growing cities, I am told) and Gilbert.
I was delighted to see Joe's Bar BQ as the pictured locale which is supposed to represent Gilbert's otherwise smalltown pastiche. This is horsehockey. Gilbert, like everywhere else in the Valley of the Sun, is nothing but a horribly ugly sprawl of cookie cutter houses and strip shopping centers which all feature one of three grocery chains (Basha's, Fry's or maybe an Albertson's), and has a place to do nails, and a Water & Ice store. There's no real industry in these communities. I think it's mostly people just selling stuff to one another.
It's funny, because this place is miserably hot, has no industry, no water or other natural resources, nor any real culture to speak of. I have no idea why I am here, but we're all coming here in the end, it appears.
Anyway, CNN posted this story on the ridiculous town of Gilbert, Arizona today. Apparently, it's the fastest gowing city in the US of A. While my mailing address is Chandler, and my work address is Tempe, I do live almost directly on the border of Chandler (which is listed as being #4 in the top 5 fastest growing cities, I am told) and Gilbert.
I was delighted to see Joe's Bar BQ as the pictured locale which is supposed to represent Gilbert's otherwise smalltown pastiche. This is horsehockey. Gilbert, like everywhere else in the Valley of the Sun, is nothing but a horribly ugly sprawl of cookie cutter houses and strip shopping centers which all feature one of three grocery chains (Basha's, Fry's or maybe an Albertson's), and has a place to do nails, and a Water & Ice store. There's no real industry in these communities. I think it's mostly people just selling stuff to one another.
It's funny, because this place is miserably hot, has no industry, no water or other natural resources, nor any real culture to speak of. I have no idea why I am here, but we're all coming here in the end, it appears.
Those of you who follow The League may have gleaned that I watch an unhealthy amount of television and read only children's books. In that vein, like the rest of you mindless cretins, I was locked into watching America Idol this Spring, a show that, in retrospect, is really pretty awful. Anyway, The Smoking Gun has a great post today about crazy letters people sent to the Federal Communications Commission regarding perceived tampering in the results of American Idol.
It's only in the cold light of hindsight that I realize that I hated all of the contestants on that show, but because it was always on in my livingroom, I HAD to pick who I liked best. And her name was Trenyce.
I really hate this show. It's really boring and lame, but because I love my wife and because of the layout of our suburban bungalow, I pretty much can't get away from it all three nights it's on every week. But it's good to see it's getting somebody all fired up.
It's only in the cold light of hindsight that I realize that I hated all of the contestants on that show, but because it was always on in my livingroom, I HAD to pick who I liked best. And her name was Trenyce.
I really hate this show. It's really boring and lame, but because I love my wife and because of the layout of our suburban bungalow, I pretty much can't get away from it all three nights it's on every week. But it's good to see it's getting somebody all fired up.
One of my favorite parts of American Beauty is when Lester Burnham speechifies upon how great it was to be 18 and flip burgers and have random sex all summer long. Yep, life was easier before taxes, loans and house payments, and there's no small part of everyone who wishes they could go back to a point where straightening their room and keeping socks off the floor were life's biggest worries.
But let's be honest, it's great because it was a long time ago, and it's fun to remember that stuff, but it's not exactly a high benchmark for achievement. High school is a fairly stupid place where you get herded around and have to go see a "tardy lady" if you're late. You can't even just call in sick, you have to have a doctor or parent verify you were sick, and if you run in a hallway, you can wind up in something called "detention." It's a really stupid place to be and it has nothing to do with college, let alone an actual professional life. But not everyone seems to think so...
Last night I stumbled upon a new syndicated program utilizing the grim tools of Jenny Jones and BLind Date and possibly any stalker movie you might have seen. The show is called Classmates (sponsored by, apparently, Classmates.com), and it's a reality show wherein two people are asked to see one another for the first time since college or high school.
Sounds harmless enough, but the two reunions I witnessed last night reminded me of why I am foregoing the Klein Oak Class of '93 reunion which is to be held later this summer. Here's a hint, kids: If high school was THAT great that you MUST return to those golden years by way of rekindling a relationship (on television, no less) which has been petrifying for around 10 years, it's time to re-examine your current lifestyle. I don't really remember high school all that well anymore, and playing Memory with name tags and what could only be vaguely embarassing details could only end in tears.
When the show works, I guess as much as it's GOING to work, it kind of makes you sad. Last night's episode ended with two people who hadn't seen one another in 9 years GETTING ENGAGED within an hour of seeing each other. That's not sweet. That's creepy and wrong. It wasn't just one person who felt the need to go running back to a time when things were easier, it was two people desperately running from the lives they've created. Or it was really sweet. Ah, i dunno. I was hoping to see someone confront a bully, so maybe if I tune in tonight, i'll get to see that. Of course, I know if I ever get called, it's going to be some random person I don't remember wanting to get back at me for cutting in line at the snack machines, so I need to be prepared.
Here's hint #2 from your old Uncle Ry: If a syndicated television program calls you and tells you somebody wants to surprise you on television, do not go. Instead, alert the police. It's probably a better, safer alternative. I've watched my fair share Springer, and now with Classmates, I am fairly certain it can only end in disaster. Do you really want to know somebody has been thinking about you (and only you) for so long that they've recruited a TV show to track you down? That's not romantic. Kids, that's stalking. So, if you're thinking of using the show to finally tell Mary Sue or Todd or whomever about your crush, I implore you to reconsider. It's better to imagine what could be than to look like a jerk on syndicated television.
But let's be honest, it's great because it was a long time ago, and it's fun to remember that stuff, but it's not exactly a high benchmark for achievement. High school is a fairly stupid place where you get herded around and have to go see a "tardy lady" if you're late. You can't even just call in sick, you have to have a doctor or parent verify you were sick, and if you run in a hallway, you can wind up in something called "detention." It's a really stupid place to be and it has nothing to do with college, let alone an actual professional life. But not everyone seems to think so...
Last night I stumbled upon a new syndicated program utilizing the grim tools of Jenny Jones and BLind Date and possibly any stalker movie you might have seen. The show is called Classmates (sponsored by, apparently, Classmates.com), and it's a reality show wherein two people are asked to see one another for the first time since college or high school.
Sounds harmless enough, but the two reunions I witnessed last night reminded me of why I am foregoing the Klein Oak Class of '93 reunion which is to be held later this summer. Here's a hint, kids: If high school was THAT great that you MUST return to those golden years by way of rekindling a relationship (on television, no less) which has been petrifying for around 10 years, it's time to re-examine your current lifestyle. I don't really remember high school all that well anymore, and playing Memory with name tags and what could only be vaguely embarassing details could only end in tears.
When the show works, I guess as much as it's GOING to work, it kind of makes you sad. Last night's episode ended with two people who hadn't seen one another in 9 years GETTING ENGAGED within an hour of seeing each other. That's not sweet. That's creepy and wrong. It wasn't just one person who felt the need to go running back to a time when things were easier, it was two people desperately running from the lives they've created. Or it was really sweet. Ah, i dunno. I was hoping to see someone confront a bully, so maybe if I tune in tonight, i'll get to see that. Of course, I know if I ever get called, it's going to be some random person I don't remember wanting to get back at me for cutting in line at the snack machines, so I need to be prepared.
Here's hint #2 from your old Uncle Ry: If a syndicated television program calls you and tells you somebody wants to surprise you on television, do not go. Instead, alert the police. It's probably a better, safer alternative. I've watched my fair share Springer, and now with Classmates, I am fairly certain it can only end in disaster. Do you really want to know somebody has been thinking about you (and only you) for so long that they've recruited a TV show to track you down? That's not romantic. Kids, that's stalking. So, if you're thinking of using the show to finally tell Mary Sue or Todd or whomever about your crush, I implore you to reconsider. It's better to imagine what could be than to look like a jerk on syndicated television.
Wednesday, July 09, 2003
onto me
Are my parents on to me? Have they, indeed, found the League of Melbotis web log? It's not that there's confidential information on my site. There's a strange item in my sitemeter. Somebody found the site from rr.com looking only for "Melbotis."
My parents love my dog and my wife as much or more than they love me, so anything centering around Melbotis would have to be fairly attractive to them. I have to assume that when my traitorous brother vacationed with my folks in San Diego last week, he might have spilled the beans and given them a place to keep tabs on me and the dog.
Mom, Dad... I am on to you.
My parents love my dog and my wife as much or more than they love me, so anything centering around Melbotis would have to be fairly attractive to them. I have to assume that when my traitorous brother vacationed with my folks in San Diego last week, he might have spilled the beans and given them a place to keep tabs on me and the dog.
Mom, Dad... I am on to you.
Jim has complained that I have not blogged today. I will ignore Jim's low frequency in blogging, and instead, turn you toward these wonderful pieces by Miguel Calderon. THese are the paintings which appeared in Eli's home in The Royal Tenenbaums.
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