Item # 1: Batman Begins is currently filming. It will star Christian Bale as Batman. There are also many, many other name actors among the cast (Morgan Freeman, Gary Oldman, Sir Michael Caine). I've heard some basics about the script, and it sounds like it's much closer to the comics than any previous incarnations. (I like the Burton version, too, but it's similarity to anything in the comics is debatable).
Anyway, view the promo image here. It's basically the new Batsymbol, I guess. I've heard some folks say it's new, but it looks pretty much like a few different versions I've seen.
Item #2: Robert Rodriguez has shown an unprecedented dedication to his new project, Sin City. Yes, yes... I probably wouldn't be mentioning it if it weren't based upon a comic book. It's based upon Frank Miller's creator owned series Sin City, a ruthlessly aggressive noir/ crime series set in a fictional town where the lives of various crooks, thieves, assassins and crack-pots intertwine.
Rodriguez is filming in his home-base of Austin, and it sounds like he's pulling in an all-star cast here as well. Goody for him.
The big news is that he's including Frank Miller, creator of Sin City, as a Co-Director (and possibly Tarantino). Let me re-emphasize that. Frank Miller. Co-Director.
For anyone who ever read a comic, Miller is a seminal figurehead in the industry. I'd say he was the Beatles, but I think Alan Moore gets that title. He's more of the... Hendrix? I dunno. Give me a good analogy and you could win a Melly Award.
Now, in order to do this, Rodriguez has had to quit the DGA. Which is HUGE, and has very real ramifications for the rest of the union aspects of the production. Union issues are a whole separate political topic I won't bog you down with here, but suffice it to say, the unions stick together, and this whole movie could wind up being a non-Union indie. Fortunately (and most likely, by design), Rodriguez is filming in a town regularly abused for it's cheap, non-Union labor. In addition, most of the film dorks in Austin would give their left arm to work on a Rodriguez movie with the sort of talent he's bringing in (let alone, work on a movie at all), so it's not an issue of making it happen.
Read about Rodriguez's decision here.
But why go to all the trouble because of some comic guy? Why is Miller this important?
If you read comics in the 80's, 90's or now, Miller's work has been the fulcrum that moved comics from the world of kiddy entertainment to being an aggressively adult medium. Miller wrote and drew some of the most groundbreaking works in comics, and when his work is brought to the big screen, invariably, it gets turned to mush. Case in point: Last year's Daredevil took a perfectly good story and made it really, really stupid.
However, one can credit Miller with stories like Item #1 above for even occuring. Batman was still considered to be the Adam West version in the public's mind (despite the 70's work by Neal Adams), until Miller gave Batman the story he needed in the comics again with Year One and DKR. In fact, originally, the movie you see mentioned above was supposed to be an adaptation of Year One (and may yet contain elements of) written by JSA and Hawkman scribe David Goyer.
It may be you LIKE Frank Miller already... you just don't know it's Frank you like.
So it sounds like Rodriguez wants to bring in Miller's perspective for fear he might accidentally muck up the material. I, for one, am amazed and excited. The Sin City comics always had the potential to be a storyboard for the best modern crime movie never made. For folks who STILL, for whatever reason, think comics are all kiddy fare... I encourage you to check out the many, many collections of Sin City available at your local comic shop as well as at Borders and Barnes & Noble, depending on their selection.
Other Frank Miller works of note include:
Ronin - published by DC Comics
Batman: Year One - DC Comics
The Dark Knight Returns (perhaps the most important super hero comics ever) - published by DC Comics
The Dark Knight Strikes Again - DC Comics
Daredevil: Man Without Fear - Marvel
Daredevil Visionaries Vol. 1 -3 - Marvel
Daredevil: Born Again - Marvel
Sin City (there are several volumes, but each story is collected in a single volume) - Dark Horse
Elektra: Assassin - Marvel
Frank Miller's Robocop - Avatar (Frank wrote the orginal screenplay to Robocop 2, which was turned into mush by the rewrites. Steven Grant and the team at Avatar Press are turning the original script into a comic. It is decidedly more violent and paints a significantly different picture than the film of Robocop 2)
300 - Dark Horse
There are also a lot of other works I won't spotlight here. Suffice it to say, Frank's influence and reach has been vast.
If anyone knows anyone working on this movie in Austin, I will give my left nut if you can get my beat-up copy of Dark Knight Returns from 1988 signed. Seriously. Left nut.
Complete works
Fan Page
An Onion AV Club article with Miller is here.
Friday, March 19, 2004
Thursday, March 18, 2004
I thought I posted this yesterday, but it must have flubbed up in the ftp.
Anyway, for the single WORST movie trailer I've seen in years, check out Garfield. One can assume the movie will suck based solely upon the fact that the PR folks insisted on putting Ray-Bans on the cartoon cat, a gag last employed with success in 1984. And how many more homages do we really need to Risky Business? Was it that much of a cultural milestone for us as a nation? I'll admit Rebecca Demornay was permananently etched in the back of my mind's eye for at least 6 weeks after seeing the movie, but was the "dancin' in my undies cause the folks are gone" scene really that seminal? To Oprah fans, I suppose it was.
Apparently the producers decided to avoid actually reading any of the strips from the past 30 years in order to make something lousier than Cats and Dogs. In the 90 seconds or so of footage, there's nothing to indicate this movie has anything to do with the actual comic strip, which, lets face it, isn't all that complicated.
I can almost pick out the folks from my office who will go see the movie and LOVE it. When I ask if it was like the newspaper strip, they will look at me quizzically, as if to say "What is this.... newspaper... of which you speak?"
Anyway, the annoyance level of the trailer far surpasses any dissonance with the strip. It just looks like an absolutely stupid movie. My apologies to the CGI folks who had to slave away over this nonsense for the past few years.
And wouldn't it have made more sense and been cuter if Odie were a cartoon, too? I can only imagine the production meeting which spawned that brain drizzle:
"Well, uh, the cat is a cartoon."
"So why does the dog have to be a cartoon?"
"Because it looks stupid having an obviously cartoon cat with a real dog looking off camera at it's trainer all the time."
"I don't see your point."
"It's going to not make sense. THe cat is a cartoon, but the dog is real."
"Right."
"Which looks... weird."
"Well, if we make the dog a cartoon, it's going to double the budget of the movie and we can't afford all the cocaine and hookers we've already put in the budget."
"Ah, screw the dog. Let's go do a speedball and green light another Hillary Duff project."
"Genius!"
"Let's go get some hookers."
Anyway, for the single WORST movie trailer I've seen in years, check out Garfield. One can assume the movie will suck based solely upon the fact that the PR folks insisted on putting Ray-Bans on the cartoon cat, a gag last employed with success in 1984. And how many more homages do we really need to Risky Business? Was it that much of a cultural milestone for us as a nation? I'll admit Rebecca Demornay was permananently etched in the back of my mind's eye for at least 6 weeks after seeing the movie, but was the "dancin' in my undies cause the folks are gone" scene really that seminal? To Oprah fans, I suppose it was.
Apparently the producers decided to avoid actually reading any of the strips from the past 30 years in order to make something lousier than Cats and Dogs. In the 90 seconds or so of footage, there's nothing to indicate this movie has anything to do with the actual comic strip, which, lets face it, isn't all that complicated.
I can almost pick out the folks from my office who will go see the movie and LOVE it. When I ask if it was like the newspaper strip, they will look at me quizzically, as if to say "What is this.... newspaper... of which you speak?"
Anyway, the annoyance level of the trailer far surpasses any dissonance with the strip. It just looks like an absolutely stupid movie. My apologies to the CGI folks who had to slave away over this nonsense for the past few years.
And wouldn't it have made more sense and been cuter if Odie were a cartoon, too? I can only imagine the production meeting which spawned that brain drizzle:
"Well, uh, the cat is a cartoon."
"So why does the dog have to be a cartoon?"
"Because it looks stupid having an obviously cartoon cat with a real dog looking off camera at it's trainer all the time."
"I don't see your point."
"It's going to not make sense. THe cat is a cartoon, but the dog is real."
"Right."
"Which looks... weird."
"Well, if we make the dog a cartoon, it's going to double the budget of the movie and we can't afford all the cocaine and hookers we've already put in the budget."
"Ah, screw the dog. Let's go do a speedball and green light another Hillary Duff project."
"Genius!"
"Let's go get some hookers."
i gotta be honest, this is the most excited I've been about a movie's release in about a year.
This looks like the kind of stuff Justin Lincoln and I were trying to make in film school that nobody but us thought was funny.
This looks like the kind of stuff Justin Lincoln and I were trying to make in film school that nobody but us thought was funny.
Hurray!
It looks like the real Supergirl is going to be back in the DC Universe of Comics. As any true comic geek knows, Kara (Supergirl) was killed at the conclusion of Crisis on Infinite Earths back in 1986. For those who don't know, Crisis wiped out all previous stories of DC Comics so the company could start fresh and not worry about 50 years of history. Since then, Supergirl has enjoyed at least two major reincarnations which had little or nothing to do with the character launched in the 1950's.
Now, superstar Jeph Loeb has written Supergirl back into the comics as Kara Zor-El, Superman's cousin.
This being the world of comics, she could be a plant by a nefarious villain, but i have high-hopes that she is the real deal as existed in the comics for thirty years or so.
Hurray for the Maid of Might!
It looks like the real Supergirl is going to be back in the DC Universe of Comics. As any true comic geek knows, Kara (Supergirl) was killed at the conclusion of Crisis on Infinite Earths back in 1986. For those who don't know, Crisis wiped out all previous stories of DC Comics so the company could start fresh and not worry about 50 years of history. Since then, Supergirl has enjoyed at least two major reincarnations which had little or nothing to do with the character launched in the 1950's.
Now, superstar Jeph Loeb has written Supergirl back into the comics as Kara Zor-El, Superman's cousin.
This being the world of comics, she could be a plant by a nefarious villain, but i have high-hopes that she is the real deal as existed in the comics for thirty years or so.
Hurray for the Maid of Might!
Wednesday, March 17, 2004
And today is not just St. Patrick's Day, it's also the 31st Birthday of my big brother, Jason. Jason Steans was born in 1973 to Rick and Karen Steans.
He's now a practicing attorney in the Austin/ Travis County area. His specialty is making sure criminals, like Martha, are put back on the street.
Jason reflects upon being 31.
I have no idea what suprises are in store for the big galoot, but I sent him a card and a present in the mail. Hopefully they will reach him before week's end.
If you wish to e-mail my brother a birthday greeting, send it here to The League, and we will happily post all birthday greetings.
E-mail address is over there
<---------------------------------------------------
He's now a practicing attorney in the Austin/ Travis County area. His specialty is making sure criminals, like Martha, are put back on the street.
Jason reflects upon being 31.
I have no idea what suprises are in store for the big galoot, but I sent him a card and a present in the mail. Hopefully they will reach him before week's end.
If you wish to e-mail my brother a birthday greeting, send it here to The League, and we will happily post all birthday greetings.
E-mail address is over there
<---------------------------------------------------
Oh, yes, by all means...
Proving that Alexis will learn and grow from her mother's mistakes, and proving she understands the fragile infrastructure which is our stock market and the ramifications of the continued abuse of the kind Ms. Stewart has been convicted of, Alexis Stewart says: Everything she did is ignored over something ... trivial
Not something important, like, say, folding napkins or making tasteful wreaths for that Holiday open house.
Proving that Alexis will learn and grow from her mother's mistakes, and proving she understands the fragile infrastructure which is our stock market and the ramifications of the continued abuse of the kind Ms. Stewart has been convicted of, Alexis Stewart says: Everything she did is ignored over something ... trivial
Not something important, like, say, folding napkins or making tasteful wreaths for that Holiday open house.
In my post from last evening I forgot a crucial event. I am sure Jamie will bring up several more major incidents. Anyway, i forgot about Jamie's amazing transformation via jaw surgery. Jamie looks nothing like how she looked as a child, which is weird, and (when viewing old photos or videos) gives the illusion that the McBride's once had a very pretty daughter who is no longer with us.
While Jamie is even more beautiful today than she was even yesterday, nonetheless, she might, at best, pass for a cousin of herself. It makes returning to Oklahoma fun as nobody has a clue as to who the heck she is.
So, yes, i need to insert that surgery.
While Jamie is even more beautiful today than she was even yesterday, nonetheless, she might, at best, pass for a cousin of herself. It makes returning to Oklahoma fun as nobody has a clue as to who the heck she is.
So, yes, i need to insert that surgery.
Randy is struggling to find a theme to his blog of late, but I think it's abundantly clear that the theme of Randy's blog is his own insecurities about blogging.
So it's my recommendation that Randy just accept that the official theme of his blog is self-destruction on a blogoscopic level.
At any rate, I find it interesting that Randy is fairly certain getting married and finding stability in his life will lead to the demise of his blog (and Jim echoed this same sentiment). Having been married long enough, and cohabitated with before that, I have ONLY the context of being married, etc... fresh in my mind. Indeed, The League more or less represents the lack-of-adventures of Jamie and R. Steans.
One wonders what Dedman and Randy foresee marriage doing to them. Because for me, it's like living with somebody, only you can make them do most of the work on your taxes.
So it's my recommendation that Randy just accept that the official theme of his blog is self-destruction on a blogoscopic level.
At any rate, I find it interesting that Randy is fairly certain getting married and finding stability in his life will lead to the demise of his blog (and Jim echoed this same sentiment). Having been married long enough, and cohabitated with before that, I have ONLY the context of being married, etc... fresh in my mind. Indeed, The League more or less represents the lack-of-adventures of Jamie and R. Steans.
One wonders what Dedman and Randy foresee marriage doing to them. Because for me, it's like living with somebody, only you can make them do most of the work on your taxes.
Hey, Kids!
If one allows their eyes to drift down the left hand side of the blog here, one will see links to other people's blogs. I have linked to a handful of them now. My newest addition is a fellow named Daniel Loyd who is apparently a former Longhorn out in LA. Well, really, he's Jim's old roommate from college. But Daniel has been kind enough to link to The LEague, completely without any pleadings from me, so we're tossing back the favor.
Take a look and see what he's up to and get some appreciation for the hard work which goes into video and film production. All that stuff you watch for free comes from somewhere, and that somewhere is this Loyd guy. So show some respect, you miscreants.
If one allows their eyes to drift down the left hand side of the blog here, one will see links to other people's blogs. I have linked to a handful of them now. My newest addition is a fellow named Daniel Loyd who is apparently a former Longhorn out in LA. Well, really, he's Jim's old roommate from college. But Daniel has been kind enough to link to The LEague, completely without any pleadings from me, so we're tossing back the favor.
Take a look and see what he's up to and get some appreciation for the hard work which goes into video and film production. All that stuff you watch for free comes from somewhere, and that somewhere is this Loyd guy. So show some respect, you miscreants.
Tuesday, March 16, 2004
So, admittedly, I flipped out today.
I had planned to take the day off from work as my employing university is currently enjoying Spring Break. So, Monday I sat and stared at my hands all day, cleaned my desk and desk area, ate some lunch, blogged some and kind of spaced out.
By 4:00 I didn;t think I'd be coming into work, so I kept saying "Shhheeeeeyooot, I do not think I'm coming in tomorrow."
See, I have a school project to do which I haven't done either jack or shit on, and I really need to get rolling. So I was to stay home today and work on it, and maybe run out and do some stuff I can't usually do when Jamie tags along. I had a full day of nuthin' planned.
At 7:00-something, Jamie, ignorant of my plan, shook me and asked if I was going to work. "Nope!" I barked and fell back asleep. A moment later she shook me again.
"I'm going to drive myself to the ER."
roughly translated that means: Hey, chubby, I'm about to spew chunks from my migraine. Get your lazy ass out of bed and get me to the ER.
Jamie's medical history, in brief:
1992: bops head on ice while skating
1992: diagnosed with FSGS, a nasty kidney disease
1993: has jaw surgery, changes identities
1993: begins college, sleeps most of time, avoids drunken League at party as he tries to pick up future Mrs. League
1994: kidney transplant
1995: League bags future Mrs. League
1996: first trip to hospital with Jamie. Much confusion. Delighted to discover chairs fold out into beds. With free food from hospital, League doesn't get up for two days.
1997: Jamie in hospital repeatedly, goofy Christmas in San Antonio, Plasma pheseris is weird and reminds League of reel to reel player
1998: cohabitation, Jamie sick with alarming frequency from migraines
1999: Jamie being sick old hat for League.
1999: DIALYSIS. Jamie gets up at 4:30 am to go. Must never drink too much soda. Perplexes League.
1999: Heart attack? When the hell did she have a heart attack? Weird...
2000: Wedding. Spend good deal of time of honeymoon reading National Geographic in waiting room of Dialysis clinic in Orlando. Jamie is trooper and allows multiple rides on Space Mountain.
2001: New kidney for Jamie. Transplant is exciting. Forced three weeks off work. Get opportunity to read all of Kavalier and Clay while at home. Grow to resent Montel Williams.
2001: Jamie loses job. God bless Medicare.
2002: Arizona?
In between the major events, we've just had her migraines to deal with, which hasn't been much fun. I suspect the heart attack occured during 1998 when she was getting sick from them a lot. It's called a "silent heart attack" when you never knew you had one. A Dr. McMinn just mentioned it in passing after an EKG.
"So, you know, because of the previous heart attack, you're going to want to be careful..."
"Previous what attack?"
But there was a time we were doing this so often, I got kind of casual about it and the one time I left Jamie at the ER so I could (look, you can't hate me for this) go home and get some shut eye, she came home in a cab, bright pink like an easter egg.
"What happened to you?"
"They gave me something new. I'm allergic. I itch inside my skin."
"Well I'll be dipped."
So this morning was trip number 40 or so to the ER for this business. And we were in and out in a few hours and Jamie is fine.
But I left her to sleep and went and ran my preplanned errands and wound up at Best Buy. Where I bought a ton of CDs, because I realized that I had been telling myself for ten years I was going to replace some of these from tape, or others were albums which disappeared, or just records friends used to have.
So screw it. I am now the proud owner of Public Enemy's Greatest Hits.
I had planned to take the day off from work as my employing university is currently enjoying Spring Break. So, Monday I sat and stared at my hands all day, cleaned my desk and desk area, ate some lunch, blogged some and kind of spaced out.
By 4:00 I didn;t think I'd be coming into work, so I kept saying "Shhheeeeeyooot, I do not think I'm coming in tomorrow."
See, I have a school project to do which I haven't done either jack or shit on, and I really need to get rolling. So I was to stay home today and work on it, and maybe run out and do some stuff I can't usually do when Jamie tags along. I had a full day of nuthin' planned.
At 7:00-something, Jamie, ignorant of my plan, shook me and asked if I was going to work. "Nope!" I barked and fell back asleep. A moment later she shook me again.
"I'm going to drive myself to the ER."
roughly translated that means: Hey, chubby, I'm about to spew chunks from my migraine. Get your lazy ass out of bed and get me to the ER.
Jamie's medical history, in brief:
1992: bops head on ice while skating
1992: diagnosed with FSGS, a nasty kidney disease
1993: has jaw surgery, changes identities
1993: begins college, sleeps most of time, avoids drunken League at party as he tries to pick up future Mrs. League
1994: kidney transplant
1995: League bags future Mrs. League
1996: first trip to hospital with Jamie. Much confusion. Delighted to discover chairs fold out into beds. With free food from hospital, League doesn't get up for two days.
1997: Jamie in hospital repeatedly, goofy Christmas in San Antonio, Plasma pheseris is weird and reminds League of reel to reel player
1998: cohabitation, Jamie sick with alarming frequency from migraines
1999: Jamie being sick old hat for League.
1999: DIALYSIS. Jamie gets up at 4:30 am to go. Must never drink too much soda. Perplexes League.
1999: Heart attack? When the hell did she have a heart attack? Weird...
2000: Wedding. Spend good deal of time of honeymoon reading National Geographic in waiting room of Dialysis clinic in Orlando. Jamie is trooper and allows multiple rides on Space Mountain.
2001: New kidney for Jamie. Transplant is exciting. Forced three weeks off work. Get opportunity to read all of Kavalier and Clay while at home. Grow to resent Montel Williams.
2001: Jamie loses job. God bless Medicare.
2002: Arizona?
In between the major events, we've just had her migraines to deal with, which hasn't been much fun. I suspect the heart attack occured during 1998 when she was getting sick from them a lot. It's called a "silent heart attack" when you never knew you had one. A Dr. McMinn just mentioned it in passing after an EKG.
"So, you know, because of the previous heart attack, you're going to want to be careful..."
"Previous what attack?"
But there was a time we were doing this so often, I got kind of casual about it and the one time I left Jamie at the ER so I could (look, you can't hate me for this) go home and get some shut eye, she came home in a cab, bright pink like an easter egg.
"What happened to you?"
"They gave me something new. I'm allergic. I itch inside my skin."
"Well I'll be dipped."
So this morning was trip number 40 or so to the ER for this business. And we were in and out in a few hours and Jamie is fine.
But I left her to sleep and went and ran my preplanned errands and wound up at Best Buy. Where I bought a ton of CDs, because I realized that I had been telling myself for ten years I was going to replace some of these from tape, or others were albums which disappeared, or just records friends used to have.
So screw it. I am now the proud owner of Public Enemy's Greatest Hits.
Hey, Supernerds!!!!
DC Comics is having a big to-do about changes in the Superman titles beginning in April.
For those of you keeping track, that's:
Adventures of Superman
Superman
Action Comics
other titles include JLA, Superman/ Batman, Superman: Birthright, Smallville, Justice League Adventures, and a scad of others...
You can download a Superman screensaver for free at this site, and while you're there, read up on the upcoming art and stories in the core Superman titles.
So if you drift past your local comic shop, now's the the best time in a few years to be taking a peek at the Superman comics.
DC Comics is having a big to-do about changes in the Superman titles beginning in April.
For those of you keeping track, that's:
Adventures of Superman
Superman
Action Comics
other titles include JLA, Superman/ Batman, Superman: Birthright, Smallville, Justice League Adventures, and a scad of others...
You can download a Superman screensaver for free at this site, and while you're there, read up on the upcoming art and stories in the core Superman titles.
So if you drift past your local comic shop, now's the the best time in a few years to be taking a peek at the Superman comics.
Monday, March 15, 2004
Thanks to Jamie who had to be the bearer of horrific news. Yes, the true cause of democracy is dead in the eyes of The League of Melbotis.
Somehow, we will soldier on. But don't be surprised if a disaffected League decides to become a monarchist so that the League will never face this sort of disappointment again.
Somehow, we will soldier on. But don't be surprised if a disaffected League decides to become a monarchist so that the League will never face this sort of disappointment again.
BTW, I noticed that the high school on the WB's new season of "High School Reunion" is not only my year (1993), Round Rock was also the rival school for the brief year I was a Westwood Warrior. I looked at the website. I don't know any of those people.
I'm a little disappointed, but, it was 13 years ago or something the last time I saw anyone from that school. I'm actually more curious about if they tried to get any of the people I did know. My buddy from that school eneded up going to MIT and does financial modelling for a big international bank. Apparently being smart enough to go to MIT also tells you to be smart enough to not volunteer for a show like High School Reunion.
I'm a little disappointed, but, it was 13 years ago or something the last time I saw anyone from that school. I'm actually more curious about if they tried to get any of the people I did know. My buddy from that school eneded up going to MIT and does financial modelling for a big international bank. Apparently being smart enough to go to MIT also tells you to be smart enough to not volunteer for a show like High School Reunion.
If The League ever needed a reminder that The League lives in bum-fuck Arizona, it is surely The Chandler Ostrich Festival.
The dirty little secret of Chandler is this: just because all the trolls in their SUVs (myself included) moved into Chandler, does not mean the indigenous lifeforms moved out. And the even uglier secret is: really, despite the $40K cars and the golf clubs, you get the feeling there is a very thin line separating the newbies from the local yokels. It takes something like a State Fair or Community Festival with $3.00 admission to make folks put down the crytal meth for long enough to locate their kids and force them into a family bonding experience such as The Ostrich Festival (an event even the organizers now seem fairly embarassed of).
I like to think that events like this which used to happen in rural communities were the glue which held these places together. But I'm a suburban kid, and this isn't the 1930's dustbowl, so when I'm not worrying about whether the carnies are stealing the hubcaps off the Forester, or why the technicolor movies like "State Fair" always star people much more attractive than what I ever see at the actual State Fair, I'm usually thinking about how obvious it must have been to dream up Something Wicked This Way Comes after a trip to the carnival.
Anyway, I'm a sucker for staring at people, mostly because it provides an ego boost like none other. And there's no better place to feel good about yourself while looking down your nose at your fellow man than at any place with a portable Ferris wheel. So Saturday, after we'd been out doing yardwork all morning, Jamie and The League took our showers (a futile gesture, considering where we were headed), patted Melbotis on the head and took off for the Ostrich Festival.
Held once a year, the festival must have been founded in the 90's when some mastermind behind a pyramid scheme convinced struggling farmers and ranchers to invest in Ostriches. Surely, they would be the next white meat, and we could look forward to a golden future of an Ostrich in every pot. Or something. But those plans went awry (which I could have predicted given the demeanor of the "Ostrich Lobby" I sat with when visiting the Texas State Capitol in the Spring of 1995). And, alas, Ostriches have not yet taken off as the meal of choice in American households (of course, if Atkins said it was good for you....).
At any rate, I've lived in Arizona for roughly two years, and The League had not yet borne witness to a single Ostrich roaming about. I hear one can see them between Phoenix and Tucson, but so far, not a single one has reared his tiny head in the greater Chandler area. Cows standing knee deep in their own filth? Certainly. Tens of thousands of them (screw you, EPA!). But, no. No ostriches.
Last year when we attended the festival, there simply were no Ostriches. Newcastle Disease had caused such a ruckus that nether man nor beast wanted to be near a huge, snotty bird, and so the Ostriches were conspicuously absent. (Jamie still has a t-shirt bearing the Silhouette of an Ostrich with the "no" circle around it.) So, this year, with dozens of the grotesque monstrosities on display, the motto of the show was "The Birds are Back".
Perhaps because the birds were back (ho ho!), or because Chandler is, I am told, a town on the move, the Festival seemed much bigger this year. I found it odd that neither Jamie nor myself could recall if last year's festival had the midway and carnival rides. All either of could remember were a half dozen or so demonstrations by local karate schools. This year, those demonstrations were conspicuously absent, but what the festival lacked in Kee-Yopping 7-year-olds, it made up for in inflatable Hulk dolls. Everywhere one looked, there was another booth hawking inflatable Hulks, Spider-Mans and cartoon mallets.
We first made our way down food alley, and Jamie selected a gyro and water and I got a churro (a food suspiciously absent in any environment outside of a carnival) and some tea. And I think that was about as much carnival as Jamie wanted to take in.
"You want to ride on the rides?"
"How long have we been together?"
"Well..."
"Have I ever wanted to ride the rides?"
I looked about at the sort of activities made available to us. Carnival rides, check. Midway games, check. Inflatable Hulk, check. Stare at freaks, check. Eat questionably prepared foods, check. Avoid Jim Belushi's band, check.
"So, uh, wanna go on a ride?"
"NO! I could get hurt."
Looking at the rides, I could not deny Jamie could well get hurt. In fact, I suddenly wondered what minimum safe distance was myself.
"Wanna play a midway game?"
"If you want to..."
"Do you want to?"
"No."
"Oh."
"But I wanna see the ostriches."
So we trudged through an inordinate number of chubby people and headed for the rodeo staging area, complete with metal bleachers and a corral fence and all that. And we parked ourselves on the bleachers in some kick ass seats and proceeded to watch a guy drive a tractor in slow circles around the corral while pulling a log or something.
"What is he doing?" I asked.
"It's like a rodeo zamboni," Jamie answered.
Another guy followed behind him with a hose, and sprayed down the corral where the rodeo zamboni had circled.
"Any idea...?"
"it's dusty."
And dry and getting hotter.
"How long have we been watching this guy?" I asked Jamie.
"Maybe twenty minutes."
"Do we know when the race starts?"
"No."
So I turned to the girl sitting nearby.
"Hey, any idea when the race starts?" she shook her head politely. There was a moment of silence and then the girl and her friends became speaking to one another excitedly in what was not English, nor did it appear that this girl spoke any English whatsoever. Which made me wonder how she had found the festival, but it was not a mystery to dwell upon. At any rate, I let is slide and returned my attention to the rodeo zamboni.
Slowly fat people began drifting in. Seriously. I don't know what the story was, but as I looked around, the morbidly obese community of Chandler, Arizona was slowly trickling in to the bleachers, sweating badly and groaning with relief as they placed themselves on the straining aluminum seating.
A matching set of a fat family sat down in front of us, the only non-obese member a small baby, destined (as DNA is a cruel bitch) to be just one more of this amazing team before me.
And, morbidly obese teen-agers, a little advice from Uncle Ry: Just because the trend of the day says to wear skin-tight belly shirts, save yourself a lot of aggravation. Be your own person and forego the Christina look.
But it wasn't just the family in front of us. There was a family who (one hoped) had participated in a karate demo who were all busting the seems of their uniforms. And, of course, many, many other variations.
I kind of wished I had beer. In fact, I wished I had a lot of beer, because it was hot out and the churro was certain not to absorb up as much beer as I thought was going to make my wait better. But this is Chandler, and not Texas, and so no beer was to be seen.
Music began playing from a crappy tape player over an even crappier sound system. The first song was from Bonanza.
"Hey," I said to Jamie. "What's the name of the ranch on Bonanza?"
"Bonanza."
"No. It's not. It's something else."
"I have no idea."
"Lorne Greene was in it. Michael Landon was Little Joe."
"Have you ever seen Bonanza?"
"Well, no."
"Okay."
For the next fifteen minutes or so I stared into space and tried to remember the name of the ranch. It's Ponderosa (not that I remembered that then). So we can all thank Bonanza for being the show which launched two family steakhouses with groovy salad bars.
Eventually a guy dressed roughly like a 1950's movie cowboy (think retired Roy Rogers) wanders out and reveals that the "animal amusements" in this show (and already I was hoping nobody from PETA was around) are from Kansas. Except maybe the Ostriches. He never clarified.
And I wasn't really sure who this guy was, because, despite the printed program in his hand, the show seemed to be a complete mystery to him. At least four times before the animal races, he failed to press "play" on the tape deck to play the crappy rendition of a bugle tooting out the start of the race. He also improperly identified his wranglers, called a llama a camel once or twice, botched several other musical cues and didn't turn off his mic (nor take it away from his mouth) when making asides to his staff.
Maybe he was old and confused. Maybe he was drunk. Maybe the sun was getting to him. I don't know, but, people... rehearsal, rehearsal, rehearsal... it's the key to success.
Ostriches raced, chickens raced, we saw a trained Zebra sort of do about half of the tricks he was supposed to and a trained Palamino refused to play ball on a few tricks as well.
Someone made the curious decision to strap the ostriches to chariots made of barrels (which made more sense than you'd think), but didn't strap the ostriches down very hard, because only 1 in 3 chariots ever remained attached to the birds.
The cowboy MC also dropped a few questionable comments of a sexist and racist slant, but sometimes you got to let things slide with dudes in their 70's wearing a silk scarf and a cowboy hat.
Inexplicably, the family in front of me suddenly rose to their feet and wandered off. It seemed the heat was overcoming them. And so, like a Russian doll collapsing back into itself, the family disappeared from view, no doubt, to find a less sunny and less dusty place to rest their bones.
But these folks missed the part where our erstwhile/ anglophile jockeys donned Arab head scarves, renamed themselves "Ali", "Mohammad" and something else, sported some classy accents and proceeded to narrowly miss an international incident by repeatedly referring to themselves as Camel Jockeys (which was a literal minded interpretation in this case, but nonetheless...). The camels raced, we all cheered, and I guess we all learned an important lesson about what is and is not funny in Chandler, Arizona.
By this time the sun was getting to me, but the show ended somewhat anti-climatically.
Jamie and I went and fed some goats, stared at a kangaroo, tried to figure out what a gnu was if that thing was a yak, and then walked down the row of booths where you could get an air-brushed T-shirt. I wanted to get one that said "Jamie's Man" in baby-blue, but Jamie was holding all of our money, so I didn't even ask.
I tried again to get Jamie to agree to go on the rides, but she showed no interest.
Alas, with no inflatable Hulk or Spider-Man, but with a bag of cinnamon glazed almonds secured, Jamie and I bid the Ostrich Festival a teary-eyed adieu. Until next year, Ostrich Fest.
Man, I can't wait for Chandler Jazz Fest 2004.
The dirty little secret of Chandler is this: just because all the trolls in their SUVs (myself included) moved into Chandler, does not mean the indigenous lifeforms moved out. And the even uglier secret is: really, despite the $40K cars and the golf clubs, you get the feeling there is a very thin line separating the newbies from the local yokels. It takes something like a State Fair or Community Festival with $3.00 admission to make folks put down the crytal meth for long enough to locate their kids and force them into a family bonding experience such as The Ostrich Festival (an event even the organizers now seem fairly embarassed of).
I like to think that events like this which used to happen in rural communities were the glue which held these places together. But I'm a suburban kid, and this isn't the 1930's dustbowl, so when I'm not worrying about whether the carnies are stealing the hubcaps off the Forester, or why the technicolor movies like "State Fair" always star people much more attractive than what I ever see at the actual State Fair, I'm usually thinking about how obvious it must have been to dream up Something Wicked This Way Comes after a trip to the carnival.
Anyway, I'm a sucker for staring at people, mostly because it provides an ego boost like none other. And there's no better place to feel good about yourself while looking down your nose at your fellow man than at any place with a portable Ferris wheel. So Saturday, after we'd been out doing yardwork all morning, Jamie and The League took our showers (a futile gesture, considering where we were headed), patted Melbotis on the head and took off for the Ostrich Festival.
Held once a year, the festival must have been founded in the 90's when some mastermind behind a pyramid scheme convinced struggling farmers and ranchers to invest in Ostriches. Surely, they would be the next white meat, and we could look forward to a golden future of an Ostrich in every pot. Or something. But those plans went awry (which I could have predicted given the demeanor of the "Ostrich Lobby" I sat with when visiting the Texas State Capitol in the Spring of 1995). And, alas, Ostriches have not yet taken off as the meal of choice in American households (of course, if Atkins said it was good for you....).
At any rate, I've lived in Arizona for roughly two years, and The League had not yet borne witness to a single Ostrich roaming about. I hear one can see them between Phoenix and Tucson, but so far, not a single one has reared his tiny head in the greater Chandler area. Cows standing knee deep in their own filth? Certainly. Tens of thousands of them (screw you, EPA!). But, no. No ostriches.
Last year when we attended the festival, there simply were no Ostriches. Newcastle Disease had caused such a ruckus that nether man nor beast wanted to be near a huge, snotty bird, and so the Ostriches were conspicuously absent. (Jamie still has a t-shirt bearing the Silhouette of an Ostrich with the "no" circle around it.) So, this year, with dozens of the grotesque monstrosities on display, the motto of the show was "The Birds are Back".
Perhaps because the birds were back (ho ho!), or because Chandler is, I am told, a town on the move, the Festival seemed much bigger this year. I found it odd that neither Jamie nor myself could recall if last year's festival had the midway and carnival rides. All either of could remember were a half dozen or so demonstrations by local karate schools. This year, those demonstrations were conspicuously absent, but what the festival lacked in Kee-Yopping 7-year-olds, it made up for in inflatable Hulk dolls. Everywhere one looked, there was another booth hawking inflatable Hulks, Spider-Mans and cartoon mallets.
We first made our way down food alley, and Jamie selected a gyro and water and I got a churro (a food suspiciously absent in any environment outside of a carnival) and some tea. And I think that was about as much carnival as Jamie wanted to take in.
"You want to ride on the rides?"
"How long have we been together?"
"Well..."
"Have I ever wanted to ride the rides?"
I looked about at the sort of activities made available to us. Carnival rides, check. Midway games, check. Inflatable Hulk, check. Stare at freaks, check. Eat questionably prepared foods, check. Avoid Jim Belushi's band, check.
"So, uh, wanna go on a ride?"
"NO! I could get hurt."
Looking at the rides, I could not deny Jamie could well get hurt. In fact, I suddenly wondered what minimum safe distance was myself.
"Wanna play a midway game?"
"If you want to..."
"Do you want to?"
"No."
"Oh."
"But I wanna see the ostriches."
So we trudged through an inordinate number of chubby people and headed for the rodeo staging area, complete with metal bleachers and a corral fence and all that. And we parked ourselves on the bleachers in some kick ass seats and proceeded to watch a guy drive a tractor in slow circles around the corral while pulling a log or something.
"What is he doing?" I asked.
"It's like a rodeo zamboni," Jamie answered.
Another guy followed behind him with a hose, and sprayed down the corral where the rodeo zamboni had circled.
"Any idea...?"
"it's dusty."
And dry and getting hotter.
"How long have we been watching this guy?" I asked Jamie.
"Maybe twenty minutes."
"Do we know when the race starts?"
"No."
So I turned to the girl sitting nearby.
"Hey, any idea when the race starts?" she shook her head politely. There was a moment of silence and then the girl and her friends became speaking to one another excitedly in what was not English, nor did it appear that this girl spoke any English whatsoever. Which made me wonder how she had found the festival, but it was not a mystery to dwell upon. At any rate, I let is slide and returned my attention to the rodeo zamboni.
Slowly fat people began drifting in. Seriously. I don't know what the story was, but as I looked around, the morbidly obese community of Chandler, Arizona was slowly trickling in to the bleachers, sweating badly and groaning with relief as they placed themselves on the straining aluminum seating.
A matching set of a fat family sat down in front of us, the only non-obese member a small baby, destined (as DNA is a cruel bitch) to be just one more of this amazing team before me.
And, morbidly obese teen-agers, a little advice from Uncle Ry: Just because the trend of the day says to wear skin-tight belly shirts, save yourself a lot of aggravation. Be your own person and forego the Christina look.
But it wasn't just the family in front of us. There was a family who (one hoped) had participated in a karate demo who were all busting the seems of their uniforms. And, of course, many, many other variations.
I kind of wished I had beer. In fact, I wished I had a lot of beer, because it was hot out and the churro was certain not to absorb up as much beer as I thought was going to make my wait better. But this is Chandler, and not Texas, and so no beer was to be seen.
Music began playing from a crappy tape player over an even crappier sound system. The first song was from Bonanza.
"Hey," I said to Jamie. "What's the name of the ranch on Bonanza?"
"Bonanza."
"No. It's not. It's something else."
"I have no idea."
"Lorne Greene was in it. Michael Landon was Little Joe."
"Have you ever seen Bonanza?"
"Well, no."
"Okay."
For the next fifteen minutes or so I stared into space and tried to remember the name of the ranch. It's Ponderosa (not that I remembered that then). So we can all thank Bonanza for being the show which launched two family steakhouses with groovy salad bars.
Eventually a guy dressed roughly like a 1950's movie cowboy (think retired Roy Rogers) wanders out and reveals that the "animal amusements" in this show (and already I was hoping nobody from PETA was around) are from Kansas. Except maybe the Ostriches. He never clarified.
And I wasn't really sure who this guy was, because, despite the printed program in his hand, the show seemed to be a complete mystery to him. At least four times before the animal races, he failed to press "play" on the tape deck to play the crappy rendition of a bugle tooting out the start of the race. He also improperly identified his wranglers, called a llama a camel once or twice, botched several other musical cues and didn't turn off his mic (nor take it away from his mouth) when making asides to his staff.
Maybe he was old and confused. Maybe he was drunk. Maybe the sun was getting to him. I don't know, but, people... rehearsal, rehearsal, rehearsal... it's the key to success.
Ostriches raced, chickens raced, we saw a trained Zebra sort of do about half of the tricks he was supposed to and a trained Palamino refused to play ball on a few tricks as well.
Someone made the curious decision to strap the ostriches to chariots made of barrels (which made more sense than you'd think), but didn't strap the ostriches down very hard, because only 1 in 3 chariots ever remained attached to the birds.
The cowboy MC also dropped a few questionable comments of a sexist and racist slant, but sometimes you got to let things slide with dudes in their 70's wearing a silk scarf and a cowboy hat.
Inexplicably, the family in front of me suddenly rose to their feet and wandered off. It seemed the heat was overcoming them. And so, like a Russian doll collapsing back into itself, the family disappeared from view, no doubt, to find a less sunny and less dusty place to rest their bones.
But these folks missed the part where our erstwhile/ anglophile jockeys donned Arab head scarves, renamed themselves "Ali", "Mohammad" and something else, sported some classy accents and proceeded to narrowly miss an international incident by repeatedly referring to themselves as Camel Jockeys (which was a literal minded interpretation in this case, but nonetheless...). The camels raced, we all cheered, and I guess we all learned an important lesson about what is and is not funny in Chandler, Arizona.
By this time the sun was getting to me, but the show ended somewhat anti-climatically.
Jamie and I went and fed some goats, stared at a kangaroo, tried to figure out what a gnu was if that thing was a yak, and then walked down the row of booths where you could get an air-brushed T-shirt. I wanted to get one that said "Jamie's Man" in baby-blue, but Jamie was holding all of our money, so I didn't even ask.
I tried again to get Jamie to agree to go on the rides, but she showed no interest.
Alas, with no inflatable Hulk or Spider-Man, but with a bag of cinnamon glazed almonds secured, Jamie and I bid the Ostrich Festival a teary-eyed adieu. Until next year, Ostrich Fest.
Man, I can't wait for Chandler Jazz Fest 2004.
Friday, March 12, 2004
The system does work!
thanks to Randy for sending this link. Let us hope he is not having to join in the class action suit.
thanks to Randy for sending this link. Let us hope he is not having to join in the class action suit.
Comics are an odd thing. People tend to think of them as being just stories about people in brightly clad costumes punching the daylights out of one another. And the past fifteen to twenty five years, that's mostly what you could expect from DC or Marvel comics.
But the fact is, there was a time when Superheroes knew how to get their groove on. Even at the expense of the safety of others.
God as my witness, I will learn the Krypton Crawl.
But the fact is, there was a time when Superheroes knew how to get their groove on. Even at the expense of the safety of others.
God as my witness, I will learn the Krypton Crawl.
Thursday, March 11, 2004
I do not have any big stories to tell today. Most of what's been going on has been work related, and that's not terribly interesting.
I must find a birthday present for my brother, Jason. It is Jason's birthday on March 17th. He will be 31.
Jason has many interests:
a) playing the guitar
b) playing the guitar while I am trying to watch TV
c) listening to his stereo as loudly as possible so he can hear it over the shower while I am trying to sleep
d) breaking my X-Wing fighter and refusing any restitution or apology
e) insisting that Batman is better than Superman
f) watching movies NO ONE ELSE IN THEIR RIGHT MIND WOULD RENT, AND THEN INSISTING "it wadn't that bad..."
g) adopting three legged dogs
h) taking three-legged dogs on slooooowwww walks
i) practicing the law
j) freeing crooks from jail
k) calling me alternately "fatty" or "bitch"
l) insisting my job entails little more than running a VCR
m) insisting his job is soooooooo difficult
n) going to eat enchiladas
o) refusing to get a haircut despite all contrary opinions and common sense
p) keeping Thundercloud Subs afloat
q) swimming
r) reading books about digruntled spies/ cops
s) keeping me abreast of the progress of the Mono Music Ensemble
t) wrestling wild boar
All in all, he has many interests. But what shall I do for him for his birthday? He has requested a hand-drawn cartoon from the League, but the League has a lot of work to do before his birthday.
This will take some sorting out. I might just send an organ grinder and a well-dressed monkey to his office on his birthday.
I must find a birthday present for my brother, Jason. It is Jason's birthday on March 17th. He will be 31.
Jason has many interests:
a) playing the guitar
b) playing the guitar while I am trying to watch TV
c) listening to his stereo as loudly as possible so he can hear it over the shower while I am trying to sleep
d) breaking my X-Wing fighter and refusing any restitution or apology
e) insisting that Batman is better than Superman
f) watching movies NO ONE ELSE IN THEIR RIGHT MIND WOULD RENT, AND THEN INSISTING "it wadn't that bad..."
g) adopting three legged dogs
h) taking three-legged dogs on slooooowwww walks
i) practicing the law
j) freeing crooks from jail
k) calling me alternately "fatty" or "bitch"
l) insisting my job entails little more than running a VCR
m) insisting his job is soooooooo difficult
n) going to eat enchiladas
o) refusing to get a haircut despite all contrary opinions and common sense
p) keeping Thundercloud Subs afloat
q) swimming
r) reading books about digruntled spies/ cops
s) keeping me abreast of the progress of the Mono Music Ensemble
t) wrestling wild boar
All in all, he has many interests. But what shall I do for him for his birthday? He has requested a hand-drawn cartoon from the League, but the League has a lot of work to do before his birthday.
This will take some sorting out. I might just send an organ grinder and a well-dressed monkey to his office on his birthday.
Wednesday, March 10, 2004
Because I have not posted much lately, here's something to entertain.
With all due respect to people who must wear flak jackets for a living.
With all due respect to people who must wear flak jackets for a living.
Seems that Randy is willing to give up the reigns on his own blog. It appears that, due to a minimum of content of late, Randy has decided others could fill in for him. And that's just fine. If you're interested in posting to RHPT.com, Randy is apparently willing to publish whatever reader's send, provided it meets his minimum safe standards.
You can see him playing with the idea here.
And him giving in to Jim D's peer pressure here.
You can see him playing with the idea here.
And him giving in to Jim D's peer pressure here.
Tuesday, March 09, 2004
I'm going to do this again, because it's fun.
It's already hot as a bastard out here in Phoenix. Last week I was still wearing a coat in the morning, but I left for three days, and now it's offically 90 degrees (my car thermometer said 92, for the record). Doesn't sound that hot, especially as it will be 120 degrees at some point this summer, but nobody really got time to adapt. I was told that my pal, Al, saw a girl suffer heatstroke during a soccer tournament this weekend.
Yeah, it's hot. Seems like just yesterday we were wearing sweaters in the office to keep warm, and it WAS on Thursday night when hail fell and coated the ground like snow, and it was okay to wear a coat out the door when I left work. But not now. Now it begins.
I hate you Phoenix summertime. I hate you like gum on my shoe.
It's already hot as a bastard out here in Phoenix. Last week I was still wearing a coat in the morning, but I left for three days, and now it's offically 90 degrees (my car thermometer said 92, for the record). Doesn't sound that hot, especially as it will be 120 degrees at some point this summer, but nobody really got time to adapt. I was told that my pal, Al, saw a girl suffer heatstroke during a soccer tournament this weekend.
Yeah, it's hot. Seems like just yesterday we were wearing sweaters in the office to keep warm, and it WAS on Thursday night when hail fell and coated the ground like snow, and it was okay to wear a coat out the door when I left work. But not now. Now it begins.
I hate you Phoenix summertime. I hate you like gum on my shoe.
Monday, March 08, 2004
two minor things:
1) Blogger.com, who hosts The League, is going to have some presence at the upcoming SXSW multimedia monkey-fest in Austin, Texas. Sounds like they're going to be at one of The League's former default destinations, Club DeVille, down on Red River.
they say: Mess with Texas Some of us Blogger folks are going to SXSW and to kick things up a notch we're serving up free drinks and t-shirts Monday evening from 6:30-8:00 on March 15th over at Club De Ville in Austin, TX. We provide beer and schwag to our users because we care.
So if you're in town, go get some free shit for The League.
2) The League just saw it's candidate of choice on cable. No, not on CNBC or Fox News or even on Nickelodeon. The Reverend Al Sharpton apparently makes a cameo in the Ryder/ Sandler vehicle, Mr. Deeds.
1) Blogger.com, who hosts The League, is going to have some presence at the upcoming SXSW multimedia monkey-fest in Austin, Texas. Sounds like they're going to be at one of The League's former default destinations, Club DeVille, down on Red River.
they say: Mess with Texas Some of us Blogger folks are going to SXSW and to kick things up a notch we're serving up free drinks and t-shirts Monday evening from 6:30-8:00 on March 15th over at Club De Ville in Austin, TX. We provide beer and schwag to our users because we care.
So if you're in town, go get some free shit for The League.
2) The League just saw it's candidate of choice on cable. No, not on CNBC or Fox News or even on Nickelodeon. The Reverend Al Sharpton apparently makes a cameo in the Ryder/ Sandler vehicle, Mr. Deeds.
Home again, home again, jiggity jog.
Kudos to Continental Airlines for not losing my luggage and being relatively on time for both flights over the weekend.
All in all, the weekend was very nice. Kicked it old school on Saturday with the main family unit plus Cousin Sue and "Hopalong" Cassidy.
Sunday, it was down to me and Mum and Pop. Pop and I went and saw Hidalgo at the Woodlands megaplex theater. I'm not really sure what to say about the movie except that it was pretty much you'd expect, and my instructors from film school would have had a field day dissecting the movie. From a non-narrative strategies point of view, I liked how the movie insisted on inserting an evil "Brad"-type character with a better horse. You know, in the end, Sheik Brad will certainly get his comeuppance. We Americans are EXPERTS at doling out comeuppances. But, if you're willing to overlook some questionable thematic issues, and you want to watch a guy ride from screen left to screen right for an hour or so, have I got the movie for you.
I make it sound like I hate the movie. I really didn't. It was kind of a half-baked adventure movie, and after Club Dread, it seemed ingenious.
Anyway, me am home. Melbotis was only half-way happy to see me. It's very warm out all of a sudden, and Mel was revelling in the sun.
Kudos to Continental Airlines for not losing my luggage and being relatively on time for both flights over the weekend.
All in all, the weekend was very nice. Kicked it old school on Saturday with the main family unit plus Cousin Sue and "Hopalong" Cassidy.
Sunday, it was down to me and Mum and Pop. Pop and I went and saw Hidalgo at the Woodlands megaplex theater. I'm not really sure what to say about the movie except that it was pretty much you'd expect, and my instructors from film school would have had a field day dissecting the movie. From a non-narrative strategies point of view, I liked how the movie insisted on inserting an evil "Brad"-type character with a better horse. You know, in the end, Sheik Brad will certainly get his comeuppance. We Americans are EXPERTS at doling out comeuppances. But, if you're willing to overlook some questionable thematic issues, and you want to watch a guy ride from screen left to screen right for an hour or so, have I got the movie for you.
I make it sound like I hate the movie. I really didn't. It was kind of a half-baked adventure movie, and after Club Dread, it seemed ingenious.
Anyway, me am home. Melbotis was only half-way happy to see me. It's very warm out all of a sudden, and Mel was revelling in the sun.
Saturday, March 06, 2004
I'm still at Mom and Dad's. All is well. Dad thought he lost his wallet at the convenience store where we each bought a soda. Those nice people still had it.
I need to buy batteries before I get to the airport. I didn't have any in my walkman when I got on the plane. Luckily, everyone was very quiet for the duration.
I need to buy batteries before I get to the airport. I didn't have any in my walkman when I got on the plane. Luckily, everyone was very quiet for the duration.
Nathan Cone is an amazing human being, radio personality and musician. He's also a major film nerd.
Nathan has posted the League's review of Comic Book: The Movie to the TPR website. Look for the film icon when you scroll down the site. The link is in the middle of the page, and the review is in there.
Nathan has posted the League's review of Comic Book: The Movie to the TPR website. Look for the film icon when you scroll down the site. The link is in the middle of the page, and the review is in there.
Friday, March 05, 2004
Wednesday, March 03, 2004
I'm not sure if Maxwell took my post of yesterday to mean that I believed she was navel gazing. On the contrary.
I am in awe, truthfully. Maxwell may be two, three years younger than myself (what is it Laura? I'm fuzzy on the details.), but she's in NYC, making a go of it as actor/ director/ creative professional. And she appears to be in a stable marriage as well.
There's a narrow window, even for the stout hearted, in these professions. Narrow windows of opportunity, of time between college and realizing the temp job is now your real job, of getting knocked up and having kids and going back out to the suburbs. Narrow windows in which we look back and say "How did I get here?" (Thanks, David Byrne).
But she's out there. She's actually walking the streets of NYC and trying to get from being the little blonde girl in the black sweater who used to bum rides home after Drama Club meetings, to being a name that passes on the lips of folks talking about putting shows on Broadway. She's somewhere between halfway there and a million miles from the passing fancy of most high school drama kids. And she's working at it, too. She's not some producer's daughter, and she's not some indie actor's model girlfriend in a walk on role. Step by step. Bit by bit.
I wonder how that happened? We were in the same program. I remember the folks around her age from that group (anyone else remember Trucker?). Something in that dusty, yawning maw of a stage made her want to try it in college. And even those bastards in UT drama didn't break her or make her throw up her hands and give Psychology 301 a shot (and from what I hear, it's the goal of the program to shatter the undergrads, but not to build them back up again).
So yesterday I catalogued a little. And I tried to pinpoint, because there was a point at which we were all churning out screenplays, and we all had ideas for stories, and we could see them in our mind's eye from beginning to end. Some of us went so far as to cast the projects, dreamed of composers and the gracious things we'd say when they mentioned our genius in print. But that's not how it works. Not most of the time.
Maxwell's right. Read her posting. She is electric. She has to be, or she'd be back in Spring, Texas wondering whether it was Chili's or Arby's tonight for dinner. Or maybe she'd still hanging out in Austin, wondering why that Third Coast thing hasn't taken off quite yet (but maybe next year...!).
So i get to do something. I get to lean on Maxwell and I get to tell her: Hey, Maxwell. A lot of us didn't even start to give ourselves a chance to be stars of stage and screen, or rock gods or poets or writers or whatever the hell we were supposed to be. So it's up to you, kid. We don't even care if you ever get your name in lights, but you don't get to quit. Not yet. You just remember that as things come to pass, and those lights start to lose their luster, you got all of us pulling for you. Go out there and do it. We all know you're electric.
I am in awe, truthfully. Maxwell may be two, three years younger than myself (what is it Laura? I'm fuzzy on the details.), but she's in NYC, making a go of it as actor/ director/ creative professional. And she appears to be in a stable marriage as well.
There's a narrow window, even for the stout hearted, in these professions. Narrow windows of opportunity, of time between college and realizing the temp job is now your real job, of getting knocked up and having kids and going back out to the suburbs. Narrow windows in which we look back and say "How did I get here?" (Thanks, David Byrne).
But she's out there. She's actually walking the streets of NYC and trying to get from being the little blonde girl in the black sweater who used to bum rides home after Drama Club meetings, to being a name that passes on the lips of folks talking about putting shows on Broadway. She's somewhere between halfway there and a million miles from the passing fancy of most high school drama kids. And she's working at it, too. She's not some producer's daughter, and she's not some indie actor's model girlfriend in a walk on role. Step by step. Bit by bit.
I wonder how that happened? We were in the same program. I remember the folks around her age from that group (anyone else remember Trucker?). Something in that dusty, yawning maw of a stage made her want to try it in college. And even those bastards in UT drama didn't break her or make her throw up her hands and give Psychology 301 a shot (and from what I hear, it's the goal of the program to shatter the undergrads, but not to build them back up again).
So yesterday I catalogued a little. And I tried to pinpoint, because there was a point at which we were all churning out screenplays, and we all had ideas for stories, and we could see them in our mind's eye from beginning to end. Some of us went so far as to cast the projects, dreamed of composers and the gracious things we'd say when they mentioned our genius in print. But that's not how it works. Not most of the time.
Maxwell's right. Read her posting. She is electric. She has to be, or she'd be back in Spring, Texas wondering whether it was Chili's or Arby's tonight for dinner. Or maybe she'd still hanging out in Austin, wondering why that Third Coast thing hasn't taken off quite yet (but maybe next year...!).
So i get to do something. I get to lean on Maxwell and I get to tell her: Hey, Maxwell. A lot of us didn't even start to give ourselves a chance to be stars of stage and screen, or rock gods or poets or writers or whatever the hell we were supposed to be. So it's up to you, kid. We don't even care if you ever get your name in lights, but you don't get to quit. Not yet. You just remember that as things come to pass, and those lights start to lose their luster, you got all of us pulling for you. Go out there and do it. We all know you're electric.
Jamie's in good company.
Jamie had a transplant from her dad in 1994 and another transplant in 2001. Four kidneys the girl to toting around (no, they do not take out your old kidneys when you get a new one. That surprised me as well).
So, folks, fill out your organ donor card. When you're six feet under and pushing up daisies, I guarantee you, you are not going to need either of your kidneys anymore. Those are two kidneys which could save the lives of two people, not just one.
But you know what's gross? They transport the kidneys in something which looks like a beer cooler, more or less packed in ice. I still remember them pointing out the cooler and asking us if we wanted to see the kidney before they put it in. I had to take a pass.
Jamie had a transplant from her dad in 1994 and another transplant in 2001. Four kidneys the girl to toting around (no, they do not take out your old kidneys when you get a new one. That surprised me as well).
So, folks, fill out your organ donor card. When you're six feet under and pushing up daisies, I guarantee you, you are not going to need either of your kidneys anymore. Those are two kidneys which could save the lives of two people, not just one.
But you know what's gross? They transport the kidneys in something which looks like a beer cooler, more or less packed in ice. I still remember them pointing out the cooler and asking us if we wanted to see the kidney before they put it in. I had to take a pass.
Tuesday, March 02, 2004
there are no details yet, but NASA says they founs water on Mars. Good news, I think.
Stemming from a brief conversation I had with Randy via IM, I think a little clarification is in order. You may have noticed that there was no real hiatus in blogging. Goody for me.
The new editorial policy is that in order to get to your location, you must know how to get there. In order to know how to get where you are going, you must have a place you are trying to reach. The League has neither goal nor path in site, and, consequently, is not trying to bulldoze forward all willy-nilly.
I was struck by a certain quality in Maxwell's recent post. We roll on and on and get rolled over by the next wave and the next. And time goes on.
It's now been 21 months since I moved to Arizona. It's been almost 6 years since I graduated a year late from college. This summer, 11 years since high school. 14 years since I moved back to Houston to finish High School. 20 years since I moved to Austin the first time. 25 years since I moved to Texas the first time. Eight and a half years with Jamie. April 28th is our 4th anniversary. Almost two years since I left my favorite job. Three years since I received rejection letters from every grad school I wanted to attend. Two years, eleven months, three weeks and a handful of hours since I consciously gave up on all that film stuff. 17 months since I started working here. Seven months since I started grad school. Two months since I've been to Texas. Seven months since I've been back to Austin.
Perhaps subconsciously, the League forms a discernable pattern. For example, if one looks at the patterns in the tile long enough, your primordial brain will begin to make faces out of the shapes in the tile. But of course, those are really just geologically produced little blobs and bits. Or, at least, you know it's not really a real face and it's not going to wink at you.
Stemming from a brief conversation I had with Randy via IM, I think a little clarification is in order. You may have noticed that there was no real hiatus in blogging. Goody for me.
The new editorial policy is that in order to get to your location, you must know how to get there. In order to know how to get where you are going, you must have a place you are trying to reach. The League has neither goal nor path in site, and, consequently, is not trying to bulldoze forward all willy-nilly.
I was struck by a certain quality in Maxwell's recent post. We roll on and on and get rolled over by the next wave and the next. And time goes on.
It's now been 21 months since I moved to Arizona. It's been almost 6 years since I graduated a year late from college. This summer, 11 years since high school. 14 years since I moved back to Houston to finish High School. 20 years since I moved to Austin the first time. 25 years since I moved to Texas the first time. Eight and a half years with Jamie. April 28th is our 4th anniversary. Almost two years since I left my favorite job. Three years since I received rejection letters from every grad school I wanted to attend. Two years, eleven months, three weeks and a handful of hours since I consciously gave up on all that film stuff. 17 months since I started working here. Seven months since I started grad school. Two months since I've been to Texas. Seven months since I've been back to Austin.
Perhaps subconsciously, the League forms a discernable pattern. For example, if one looks at the patterns in the tile long enough, your primordial brain will begin to make faces out of the shapes in the tile. But of course, those are really just geologically produced little blobs and bits. Or, at least, you know it's not really a real face and it's not going to wink at you.
Oh, and I can't believe I didn't mention this before.
Congratulations to Michael "The My" Young. He's been a pal since I got to college, and though he moved to the wilds of Seattle, we keep in touch. Not long after My moved up there, some girl I hear a lot about in Austin but never met, Brandi, moved up to Seattle, too. Well, seems old My and Brandi are going to go ahead and make it legal.
Congrats to My and Brandi.
Here's the link to his band's website.
Congratulations to Michael "The My" Young. He's been a pal since I got to college, and though he moved to the wilds of Seattle, we keep in touch. Not long after My moved up there, some girl I hear a lot about in Austin but never met, Brandi, moved up to Seattle, too. Well, seems old My and Brandi are going to go ahead and make it legal.
Congrats to My and Brandi.
Here's the link to his band's website.
In addition to the other horrors and atrocities plaguing our world, this one is particularly bizarre.
Apparently Leap Year Day was Superman's birthday. According to The Supermanhomepage.com:
February 29, 2004: Happy Birthday Superman!
Traditionally February 29th has been celebrated as Superman's birthday.
In Action Comics #655 (July 1990) a Smallville newspaper clipping shows Jonathan and Martha Kent had a child "on or about February 28th".
DC Comics did this as a comical way of giving a reason for Superman's slow aging in the comic books. Afterall, he only has a birthday every four years. :)
Happy Birthday, Superman!!!
I promise to pay more attention as Miracle Monday approaches.
February 29, 2004: Happy Birthday Superman!
Traditionally February 29th has been celebrated as Superman's birthday.
In Action Comics #655 (July 1990) a Smallville newspaper clipping shows Jonathan and Martha Kent had a child "on or about February 28th".
DC Comics did this as a comical way of giving a reason for Superman's slow aging in the comic books. Afterall, he only has a birthday every four years. :)
Happy Birthday, Superman!!!
I promise to pay more attention as Miracle Monday approaches.
Monday, March 01, 2004
Pointless story #452
Normally I wear sunglasses when outside, but I lost my sunglasses a few weeks ago. So last week I'm walking down the street and it's middle of the afternoon and kind of warm out, and I've been in meetings for hours. And I'm walking past this bar called Dos Gringos, and I kind of look at this guy. Not stare, but look over as one always does to ensure a person heading toward you is not weilding a meat cleaver or about to kick you in the nards. And the dude looks me in the face and I involuntarily give the "what's up?" head nod. it's about half an inch up and then back again, indicating, "I see you buddy," but that's nonverbal communication usually used for folks you know, or have even seen before.
But not for this guy, because he says "Hey, what's up?" and I'm still walking. And he's not a hipster. And he doesn't look like a guy who usually casually hi-fives people on the street. Not having sunglasses on, he can clearly see I was, in fact, looking at him.
Sidenote story: A while back i was telling my co-workers how cool it was to be in Houston in the summer of 1994 when the Houston Rockets won the NBA Championship. As part of my story, I described how folks were high-fiving total strangers out on the street, and how great the feeling of community spirit was. Apparently, my co-workers mistook that I thought in civilized society, people should be high-fiving everywhere. Anyhow, it's now an office joke that my vision of utopia would involve a lot of high-fiving. Which, upon reflection, if there's no high-fiving in heaven, I don't want to go.
So anyhow, this guy stops and turns as if to talk to me, and I stop, because I suddenly think maybe I know this guy (he is wearing sunglasses and I might not have recognized him at first.) So I stop and do the head bob again.
"So what's up?" he says again. And not threateningly, but rather with a high degree of familiarity. At this moment I realize with absolute certainty that while he looks a bit like the guy who runs my local comic shop, I do not know this guy. No clue at all who he might be. And I wonder who he thinks I am.
"Not much." I shrug.
And then he looks at me for a second, and I think he begins to realize I am NOT the guy he thought I was. Or not. I do not know. But he's not going to let this go. "So what's been going on?"
"Not much," I say, and then, looking down the street in the direction I was headed, I add: "Gotta run."
"Later."
And for some reason it left me completely flustered. I do remember talking to a girl I couldn't identify for half an hour one day when i worked at the Disney Store. I knew I SHOULD know who the girl was, and she clearly knew me, but the hangover which was screaming in my head, and the taste of stale cigar in my mouth was kind of making me miserable. She was also fairly good looking, so I WANTED to remember who she was, but it wasn't helping. I talked to her for a long while and I laughed and I kidded with her. Eventually she had to go, and I had to go back to making it look like I was working. Later, I thought maybe she was a girl I knew from a neighboring high school, but my dim memories of her from high-school had involved a lot of stage make-up, and my new memories were clouded by how very, very hungover I was.
But this wasn't even like my chance encounter with (possibly) Jenny S. This was just... some guy. Anyway, I wondered if he wondered who the hell I was, or if he was even aware I was the wrong guy. I mean, I'm always willing to pretend to be someone I'm not, but I need a little prep work and a few key details. And then i wondered how far that conversation could have gone before he realized I was not, in fact, the guy he thought I was. Especially if I insisted I WAS the person he was looking for.
Of course there is always the possibility I DID know this guy. I do that a lot. I think i haven't met somebody, but I have, in fact, spent hours with them. This happens a lot with faculty. I think I've never met them and then they get angry, insisting we met a year and a half ago. Or, even better, when I go to a meeting and realize in hour two that this is a different meeting than the one I thought I was attending. That used to happen a lot.
Anyway, wherever that dude is, I hope he's not soliciting the head bob from folks and then stopping them all over town. Moreover, i hope to god I didn't actually know that guy.
Normally I wear sunglasses when outside, but I lost my sunglasses a few weeks ago. So last week I'm walking down the street and it's middle of the afternoon and kind of warm out, and I've been in meetings for hours. And I'm walking past this bar called Dos Gringos, and I kind of look at this guy. Not stare, but look over as one always does to ensure a person heading toward you is not weilding a meat cleaver or about to kick you in the nards. And the dude looks me in the face and I involuntarily give the "what's up?" head nod. it's about half an inch up and then back again, indicating, "I see you buddy," but that's nonverbal communication usually used for folks you know, or have even seen before.
But not for this guy, because he says "Hey, what's up?" and I'm still walking. And he's not a hipster. And he doesn't look like a guy who usually casually hi-fives people on the street. Not having sunglasses on, he can clearly see I was, in fact, looking at him.
Sidenote story: A while back i was telling my co-workers how cool it was to be in Houston in the summer of 1994 when the Houston Rockets won the NBA Championship. As part of my story, I described how folks were high-fiving total strangers out on the street, and how great the feeling of community spirit was. Apparently, my co-workers mistook that I thought in civilized society, people should be high-fiving everywhere. Anyhow, it's now an office joke that my vision of utopia would involve a lot of high-fiving. Which, upon reflection, if there's no high-fiving in heaven, I don't want to go.
So anyhow, this guy stops and turns as if to talk to me, and I stop, because I suddenly think maybe I know this guy (he is wearing sunglasses and I might not have recognized him at first.) So I stop and do the head bob again.
"So what's up?" he says again. And not threateningly, but rather with a high degree of familiarity. At this moment I realize with absolute certainty that while he looks a bit like the guy who runs my local comic shop, I do not know this guy. No clue at all who he might be. And I wonder who he thinks I am.
"Not much." I shrug.
And then he looks at me for a second, and I think he begins to realize I am NOT the guy he thought I was. Or not. I do not know. But he's not going to let this go. "So what's been going on?"
"Not much," I say, and then, looking down the street in the direction I was headed, I add: "Gotta run."
"Later."
And for some reason it left me completely flustered. I do remember talking to a girl I couldn't identify for half an hour one day when i worked at the Disney Store. I knew I SHOULD know who the girl was, and she clearly knew me, but the hangover which was screaming in my head, and the taste of stale cigar in my mouth was kind of making me miserable. She was also fairly good looking, so I WANTED to remember who she was, but it wasn't helping. I talked to her for a long while and I laughed and I kidded with her. Eventually she had to go, and I had to go back to making it look like I was working. Later, I thought maybe she was a girl I knew from a neighboring high school, but my dim memories of her from high-school had involved a lot of stage make-up, and my new memories were clouded by how very, very hungover I was.
But this wasn't even like my chance encounter with (possibly) Jenny S. This was just... some guy. Anyway, I wondered if he wondered who the hell I was, or if he was even aware I was the wrong guy. I mean, I'm always willing to pretend to be someone I'm not, but I need a little prep work and a few key details. And then i wondered how far that conversation could have gone before he realized I was not, in fact, the guy he thought I was. Especially if I insisted I WAS the person he was looking for.
Of course there is always the possibility I DID know this guy. I do that a lot. I think i haven't met somebody, but I have, in fact, spent hours with them. This happens a lot with faculty. I think I've never met them and then they get angry, insisting we met a year and a half ago. Or, even better, when I go to a meeting and realize in hour two that this is a different meeting than the one I thought I was attending. That used to happen a lot.
Anyway, wherever that dude is, I hope he's not soliciting the head bob from folks and then stopping them all over town. Moreover, i hope to god I didn't actually know that guy.
Watched the Oscars on and off last night. Billy Crystal still annoys me, and he had nothing to say about Seabiscuit except how Pete Rose likes to gamble? Given, i never saw Seabiscuit (movies about horses running in circles tend not to draw me out), but it WAS up for Best Picture. Surely he could admit he never saw the movie, too.
Was absolutely stunned Lord of the Rings made the sweep it did. At one point Star Wars was up for Best Picture. Oh, how the mighty have fallen.
I never saw most the movies nominated. I never saw:
House of Sand and Fog
Mystic River
Seabiscuit
Cold Mountain
The Cooler
21 Grams
Thirteen
Pieces of April
Whale Rider
In America
City of God
The Barbarian Invasions
You know what? I did see "Broken Lizard's Club Dread" this weekend. And I'm sorry I did. Wow. Was that not good.
I could blame Tempe/ Chandler for not carrying the Oscar contenders at the megaplex, but they do carry them at the Madstone theater out by Jamie's office. I guess I just have a hard time telling what's worth seeing and what's not anymore.
I COULD go to see every movie ever produced so i could up my hip factor and have good cocktail party conversations. And I'm not suggesting that the movies on my list of "didn't see's" are bad movies. I'm just saying, when I walk into a store, I don't buy every towel they have so I can find the fluffiest towel. Nor do I go to the expensive linen store to find the "best" towel. I just buy a towel that's the right size, shape and color. Occasionally i realize this towel isn't absorbent enough, or it chafes, so i need to try another one.
Anyway, that's a crummy analogy, but hopefully it gets the point across. I used to be a 2 movie a week guy. In the theater. With a box of candy and a coke everytime. Now it's once every month, maybe less. Funny how things change.
Speaking of movies, Jim D. is fretting over the latest draft of his screenplay. He's sent it into Project Greenlight, but it looks like Project Greenlight is targeting a horror/ thriller this go-round. Best of luck to Jim. I've read the screenplay. It's very good. It is not, however, a horror movie nor an Ashley Judd vehicle.
Jim has suggested his pal Alistair might direct this film. If this is true, I foresee Jim becoming Hollywood's next Joe Eszterhas, only without all the cocaine and hookers.
I wrote a screenplay once. It was in the neighborhood of 120 pages and the characters said the "F-Word" a lot. other than that, it's best redeeming quality was that it was also recyclable.
I've been watching a LOT of Spongebob Squarepants lately. If you haven't seen this show yet, give it a shot. I am getting on the gravy train very, very late as it is, but I like me the Spongebob.
Anyhoo, going to Houston for 4 days. It's Mummsy's birthday and she's still recuperating from her surgery. So I will be flying out Friday and returning Monday. It's going to be a hot time in Spring, Texas.
Was absolutely stunned Lord of the Rings made the sweep it did. At one point Star Wars was up for Best Picture. Oh, how the mighty have fallen.
I never saw most the movies nominated. I never saw:
House of Sand and Fog
Mystic River
Seabiscuit
Cold Mountain
The Cooler
21 Grams
Thirteen
Pieces of April
Whale Rider
In America
City of God
The Barbarian Invasions
You know what? I did see "Broken Lizard's Club Dread" this weekend. And I'm sorry I did. Wow. Was that not good.
I could blame Tempe/ Chandler for not carrying the Oscar contenders at the megaplex, but they do carry them at the Madstone theater out by Jamie's office. I guess I just have a hard time telling what's worth seeing and what's not anymore.
I COULD go to see every movie ever produced so i could up my hip factor and have good cocktail party conversations. And I'm not suggesting that the movies on my list of "didn't see's" are bad movies. I'm just saying, when I walk into a store, I don't buy every towel they have so I can find the fluffiest towel. Nor do I go to the expensive linen store to find the "best" towel. I just buy a towel that's the right size, shape and color. Occasionally i realize this towel isn't absorbent enough, or it chafes, so i need to try another one.
Anyway, that's a crummy analogy, but hopefully it gets the point across. I used to be a 2 movie a week guy. In the theater. With a box of candy and a coke everytime. Now it's once every month, maybe less. Funny how things change.
Speaking of movies, Jim D. is fretting over the latest draft of his screenplay. He's sent it into Project Greenlight, but it looks like Project Greenlight is targeting a horror/ thriller this go-round. Best of luck to Jim. I've read the screenplay. It's very good. It is not, however, a horror movie nor an Ashley Judd vehicle.
Jim has suggested his pal Alistair might direct this film. If this is true, I foresee Jim becoming Hollywood's next Joe Eszterhas, only without all the cocaine and hookers.
I wrote a screenplay once. It was in the neighborhood of 120 pages and the characters said the "F-Word" a lot. other than that, it's best redeeming quality was that it was also recyclable.
I've been watching a LOT of Spongebob Squarepants lately. If you haven't seen this show yet, give it a shot. I am getting on the gravy train very, very late as it is, but I like me the Spongebob.
Anyhoo, going to Houston for 4 days. It's Mummsy's birthday and she's still recuperating from her surgery. So I will be flying out Friday and returning Monday. It's going to be a hot time in Spring, Texas.
Friday, February 27, 2004
The League generally steers clear of sex, religion or politics. This is editorial policy. And woe be to the poor writer who must fall under this policy or who tries to buck the editorial board which holds the League in it's infernal grasp.
Hence, the League has spiralled into a soup of comic info nobody cares about, rambling stories about couches, letters answered by the League's namesake, and a lot of other "play it safe" sort of tidbits. Looking at The League these days, I can't imagine that as an outsider, I would be remotely interested in ANY of this content. It's ridiculous. We don't even give regular Melbotis updates anymore, kind of nullifying the whole point behind the League.
But the League got tired of hurt feelings and political debate, and so the League decided it was going to quit messing around with anything remotely political, religious or sexual in nature.
I think we started out good. We had some good bits, but it's become a real routine, and the content is definitely suffering. Especially under workload and going to school (because I try not to talk to much about either within these pixels).
So as of today, the League is going on hiatus (but NOT blogicidal) until THe LEague has a meeting with the editorial board and can figure out some new ground rules which will keep The LEague from becoming the Highlights for Children of the blogger set. (oh, Goofus! Why can't you be more like Gallant?)
Anyhow, don't be alarmed if there are limited posts for a while.
Hence, the League has spiralled into a soup of comic info nobody cares about, rambling stories about couches, letters answered by the League's namesake, and a lot of other "play it safe" sort of tidbits. Looking at The League these days, I can't imagine that as an outsider, I would be remotely interested in ANY of this content. It's ridiculous. We don't even give regular Melbotis updates anymore, kind of nullifying the whole point behind the League.
But the League got tired of hurt feelings and political debate, and so the League decided it was going to quit messing around with anything remotely political, religious or sexual in nature.
I think we started out good. We had some good bits, but it's become a real routine, and the content is definitely suffering. Especially under workload and going to school (because I try not to talk to much about either within these pixels).
So as of today, the League is going on hiatus (but NOT blogicidal) until THe LEague has a meeting with the editorial board and can figure out some new ground rules which will keep The LEague from becoming the Highlights for Children of the blogger set. (oh, Goofus! Why can't you be more like Gallant?)
Anyhow, don't be alarmed if there are limited posts for a while.
Thursday, February 26, 2004
Worlds collide as the NBA teams up with Kids WB! action star Static.
I actually really like the Static Shock cartoon. I never read the comics when the Milestone line was released back around 1990. There was a deluge of new material coming out then, and at the time, all I read was some Sandman, Hellblazer and Batman. The Milestone comics were geared toward a black audience, featuring mostly black cast members with traditional super powers. Aside from that, i can't say much. I do remember picking up Static and liking the art, but saving my pennies for some crucial turn of events for Swamp Thing or somebody who I was more familiar with.
(little note to folks not collecting comics: picking up issue #1 of anything was once fashionable for comic readers to do. This could lead very quickly to burnout on "origin" stories as there are ALWAYS #1's being printed. This is also why so few new comics survive in the marketplace.)
The Milestone line died somewhat prematurely, without ever exploring the possibility for merging into a core Universe, like the DCU.
The Static Shock! cartoon came on Kids WB! (lots of exclamation points when you're aimed at kids) a little while after the cancellation of the comic. And while eating my Grape Nuts on Saturday morning, i began to tune in.
The cartoon is about a kid who gains fantastic powers centering around electricity. At the same time he gained his powers from a mysterious explosion (at the heart of Dakota City), many other gained powers as well. Static is supposedly the only one who happens to be using his powers for good. Hurray!
The show has guest starred many real-life folks, including Shaquille Oneal. It appears in this episode that Static is teaming up with several super powered NBA players, including Karl Malone and Yao Ming.
In a nutshell, here's the episode:
Together, these four form the leading members of the secret organization known as the National Biotech Authority, dedicated to preserving world peace and stability. In the episode they join forces with Static to help defeat the evil Doctor Odium, who's created a frightening new device to dominate the world.
Anyway, sounds not unlike when the Harlem Globetrotters helped Shag and Scoob solve the mystery of the creepy mansion.
I saw Yao Ming play in December. If he's fighting crime in his off-court time, it may explain why he didn't appear to have the energy to pull down anything off the boards.
I actually really like the Static Shock cartoon. I never read the comics when the Milestone line was released back around 1990. There was a deluge of new material coming out then, and at the time, all I read was some Sandman, Hellblazer and Batman. The Milestone comics were geared toward a black audience, featuring mostly black cast members with traditional super powers. Aside from that, i can't say much. I do remember picking up Static and liking the art, but saving my pennies for some crucial turn of events for Swamp Thing or somebody who I was more familiar with.
(little note to folks not collecting comics: picking up issue #1 of anything was once fashionable for comic readers to do. This could lead very quickly to burnout on "origin" stories as there are ALWAYS #1's being printed. This is also why so few new comics survive in the marketplace.)
The Milestone line died somewhat prematurely, without ever exploring the possibility for merging into a core Universe, like the DCU.
The Static Shock! cartoon came on Kids WB! (lots of exclamation points when you're aimed at kids) a little while after the cancellation of the comic. And while eating my Grape Nuts on Saturday morning, i began to tune in.
The cartoon is about a kid who gains fantastic powers centering around electricity. At the same time he gained his powers from a mysterious explosion (at the heart of Dakota City), many other gained powers as well. Static is supposedly the only one who happens to be using his powers for good. Hurray!
The show has guest starred many real-life folks, including Shaquille Oneal. It appears in this episode that Static is teaming up with several super powered NBA players, including Karl Malone and Yao Ming.
In a nutshell, here's the episode:
Together, these four form the leading members of the secret organization known as the National Biotech Authority, dedicated to preserving world peace and stability. In the episode they join forces with Static to help defeat the evil Doctor Odium, who's created a frightening new device to dominate the world.
Anyway, sounds not unlike when the Harlem Globetrotters helped Shag and Scoob solve the mystery of the creepy mansion.
I saw Yao Ming play in December. If he's fighting crime in his off-court time, it may explain why he didn't appear to have the energy to pull down anything off the boards.
Are they just now tuning in? I'd be very curious to see what, exactly, Stern did that he hasn't done every single day for decades.
I never guessed Janet Jackson's nipple would have such a profound effect.
I never guessed Janet Jackson's nipple would have such a profound effect.
Wednesday, February 25, 2004
Denby writes:
Dear Mel,
How do you feel about cloning?
-Laura
Denby clarifies with:
Mel,
How do you feel about cloning; specifically gay republicans?
-Laura
Dear Laura,
Mel not sure why Mel opinion sought on such complicated issue, but Mel try anyway.
Mel not very clear on concept of cloning. Also, Mel not real clear on gay. Or Republican. Or biggest mystery of all: gay Republican.
Mel know only that cloning mean more people. And more people mean that more people might pet Mel on Mel's head, and that cannot be all bad. Do gay Republican pet doggies? mel genuinely hope so. So mel highly in favor of cloning gay Republican if they have treat or take Mel to park so Mel can run and bark and they can pick up Mel-poo.
Mel fairly certain if world full of gay Republican, world would be better place.
Dear Mel,
How do you feel about cloning?
-Laura
Denby clarifies with:
Mel,
How do you feel about cloning; specifically gay republicans?
-Laura
Dear Laura,
Mel not sure why Mel opinion sought on such complicated issue, but Mel try anyway.
Mel not very clear on concept of cloning. Also, Mel not real clear on gay. Or Republican. Or biggest mystery of all: gay Republican.
Mel know only that cloning mean more people. And more people mean that more people might pet Mel on Mel's head, and that cannot be all bad. Do gay Republican pet doggies? mel genuinely hope so. So mel highly in favor of cloning gay Republican if they have treat or take Mel to park so Mel can run and bark and they can pick up Mel-poo.
Mel fairly certain if world full of gay Republican, world would be better place.
Randy writes:
Dear Mel,
Are you a Democrat or Republican? What's your stance on gay marriages?
Do
you think Kerry/Edwards/Sharpton has a snowball's chance in hell to
beat
Bush? Also, what's next week's lucky lotto numbers?
Thanks for your time,
Randy
Dear Randy,
Mel live in house where Mel get little say in matter. Often, Mel tries to see if he can have milkbone a it early because mel still hungry. So Mel look at man on couch and man look back at Mel and say "Oh, you're starving to death." and Mel say "yes!" but still no milkbone come. So Mel suspect that it not matter really what Mel think. Mel not going to get milkbone anyway. Mel clearly live in slave labor state, so is like asking if he labor or conservative party.
Mel not to sure about gay marriage. Mel only know marriage mostly involve debate over where to go for supper and a lot of rolling eyeball at one another. So if two men or two lady want to do that, good for them. Mel like to eat all alone. otherwise, Mel feel threatened and have to growl and eat at same time.
Mel still stand behind nice Sharpton man in bid for presidency. Sharpton man look like he might give Mel extra treat and pet Mel on head. Kerry man look like man who walk by and pretend not to see Mel. Mel think that dumb and so barkbarkbark at kerry man. He dumb. Edwards man is confusing to Mel. he seem like he might pet Mel, but not give Mel extra treat. mel used to live few miles from George Bush and he never come by. Mel say "Hey, dumb Bush man, come give Mel treat," but it do no good. Mel think that all things be equal, if Sharpton give everyone extra treat, then maybe he win.
Next week lucky lotto number are 1 and 2. That as high as Mel care to count. After two, mel lose track.
Dear Mel,
Are you a Democrat or Republican? What's your stance on gay marriages?
Do
you think Kerry/Edwards/Sharpton has a snowball's chance in hell to
beat
Bush? Also, what's next week's lucky lotto numbers?
Thanks for your time,
Randy
Dear Randy,
Mel live in house where Mel get little say in matter. Often, Mel tries to see if he can have milkbone a it early because mel still hungry. So Mel look at man on couch and man look back at Mel and say "Oh, you're starving to death." and Mel say "yes!" but still no milkbone come. So Mel suspect that it not matter really what Mel think. Mel not going to get milkbone anyway. Mel clearly live in slave labor state, so is like asking if he labor or conservative party.
Mel not to sure about gay marriage. Mel only know marriage mostly involve debate over where to go for supper and a lot of rolling eyeball at one another. So if two men or two lady want to do that, good for them. Mel like to eat all alone. otherwise, Mel feel threatened and have to growl and eat at same time.
Mel still stand behind nice Sharpton man in bid for presidency. Sharpton man look like he might give Mel extra treat and pet Mel on head. Kerry man look like man who walk by and pretend not to see Mel. Mel think that dumb and so barkbarkbark at kerry man. He dumb. Edwards man is confusing to Mel. he seem like he might pet Mel, but not give Mel extra treat. mel used to live few miles from George Bush and he never come by. Mel say "Hey, dumb Bush man, come give Mel treat," but it do no good. Mel think that all things be equal, if Sharpton give everyone extra treat, then maybe he win.
Next week lucky lotto number are 1 and 2. That as high as Mel care to count. After two, mel lose track.
The Onion presents us with this:
Transformer Refuses To Change Back Into Volkswagen
CYBOTRON—Following an intense battle with Megatron and his evil Decepticons Monday, former robot-in-disguise Bumblebee refused to revert to his natural state as a yellow Volkswagen Beetle. "I hid my existence in this world by taking the form of a vehicle! I revealed my true nature when I was called upon to protect earth!" said Bumblebee, a member of Optimus Prime's heroic Autobots force. "I refuse to change back into a humiliating bubble-shaped compact car!" Bumblebee added that Megatron arrived on earth with one goal: Destruction!
Transformer Refuses To Change Back Into Volkswagen
CYBOTRON—Following an intense battle with Megatron and his evil Decepticons Monday, former robot-in-disguise Bumblebee refused to revert to his natural state as a yellow Volkswagen Beetle. "I hid my existence in this world by taking the form of a vehicle! I revealed my true nature when I was called upon to protect earth!" said Bumblebee, a member of Optimus Prime's heroic Autobots force. "I refuse to change back into a humiliating bubble-shaped compact car!" Bumblebee added that Megatron arrived on earth with one goal: Destruction!
Tuesday, February 24, 2004
because America loves an underdog....
God bless you, Will Hung.
But for the Grace of God, there go I....
God bless you, Will Hung.
But for the Grace of God, there go I....
My brother, Defense Attorney and former philosophy major writes:
Dear Mel,
Are people innately good, sometimes making mistakes, or are they innately evil, acting like they are good only in order to get what they want?
jason
Dear Jason,
Mel have met many, many people. Maybe as many people as Mel have toes, and mel usually get petted on head by people and sometime they give Mel treat. In old house, Mel notice many little people who walk by house going one way in morning, going other way in evening. Little people would shout at Mel and bang on fence and so Mel know these people are evil because they not pet Mel or give him treat. But taller people who walk by give Mel pet or wave at Mel and say "hello, doggy!" so mel run up and down fence and say bark bark bark bark.
Also, mel not sure if people act to get what they want as people never want anything from Mel. But Mel know truck is eveil as truck want garbage and steal it every week no matter how much mel bark bark bark.
Dear Mel,
Are people innately good, sometimes making mistakes, or are they innately evil, acting like they are good only in order to get what they want?
jason
Dear Jason,
Mel have met many, many people. Maybe as many people as Mel have toes, and mel usually get petted on head by people and sometime they give Mel treat. In old house, Mel notice many little people who walk by house going one way in morning, going other way in evening. Little people would shout at Mel and bang on fence and so Mel know these people are evil because they not pet Mel or give him treat. But taller people who walk by give Mel pet or wave at Mel and say "hello, doggy!" so mel run up and down fence and say bark bark bark bark.
Also, mel not sure if people act to get what they want as people never want anything from Mel. But Mel know truck is eveil as truck want garbage and steal it every week no matter how much mel bark bark bark.
The saga of the couch continues as Jamie takes exception to how events were related (as she frequently does).
Jamie writes:
Dear Melbotis,
I would like to take the time to call bullshit on a particular part of the Tale of the Couch. In particular, the part where the League claims he was concerned about what would happen if we kept the leather loaner sofa:
"Knowing we had a cleared check and a new sofa en route, I took a moment to pause. "What are we going to do with the interim sofa?" I asked Jamie.
And we considered our many options, but what I DID NOT want to happen was for us to be tracked down in a year when we'd given the sofa away and were unable to retrieve the thing. Nor could we let them know we had it until we had received the new sofa.
Which arrived two weeks ahead of schedule on Friday.
"We need to return the interim sofa."
"I don't think they know we have it."
"We need to return it."
"Look, you take care of it."
I believe the conversation went a little more like:
The League: "Wow, they have no idea we have their couch. I am totally going to sell this to Juli for like 400 bucks."
Mrs. League: "I don't know if I'm comfortable with that, hon. It isn't our couch and I have this sinking feeling that if we do that, they're going to be taking inventory some day and come after us."
The League: "They will never remember we have this. Come on, be cool, baby."
Mrs. League: "I just can't do it. I'll be having constant nightmares about anthropomorphic leather couches."
The League: "Fine, but you have to deal with it."
Thanks for listening, Melbotis. You can go back to chewing on pig-head now.
Dear Jamie,
Mel not sure of exactly what happen, but Mel suspect you probably are wrong. Mel believe it went more like this:
The League: Dammit woman! We have to do what is right!
Mrs. League: I am so lazy, I can barely talk.
The League: Jamie, get off the couch so I can return it.
Mrs. League: No. Although I agree the couch is not suitable for this room or our tastes, I am sooooooo lazy, I plan to just lay here so we can't get rid of the couch. besides, we could probably sell this couch to a struggling immigrant family at an incredibly inflated price, thus taking all of their hard earned money and depriving them of a chance at the American Dream. Bwah-ha-ha-ha!
The LEague: I cannot stand idly by and allow you to continue to abuse immigrants! We're returning that couch, and you're going to call the Roomstore yourself!
Mrs. League: In the light of your unwavering righteous wisdom, I see the error of my ways. I shall call the Roomstore.
The League: I'm so proud of you and love you so much. Right, Melbotis?
Melbotis: Right, Ryan!
All Together: Ha ha ha ha ha...
(and... scene)
So, you see, Jamie. mel say there are many ways to perceive the events and how they happened. mel sad that your perception is so tragically incorrect.
Jamie writes:
Dear Melbotis,
I would like to take the time to call bullshit on a particular part of the Tale of the Couch. In particular, the part where the League claims he was concerned about what would happen if we kept the leather loaner sofa:
"Knowing we had a cleared check and a new sofa en route, I took a moment to pause. "What are we going to do with the interim sofa?" I asked Jamie.
And we considered our many options, but what I DID NOT want to happen was for us to be tracked down in a year when we'd given the sofa away and were unable to retrieve the thing. Nor could we let them know we had it until we had received the new sofa.
Which arrived two weeks ahead of schedule on Friday.
"We need to return the interim sofa."
"I don't think they know we have it."
"We need to return it."
"Look, you take care of it."
I believe the conversation went a little more like:
The League: "Wow, they have no idea we have their couch. I am totally going to sell this to Juli for like 400 bucks."
Mrs. League: "I don't know if I'm comfortable with that, hon. It isn't our couch and I have this sinking feeling that if we do that, they're going to be taking inventory some day and come after us."
The League: "They will never remember we have this. Come on, be cool, baby."
Mrs. League: "I just can't do it. I'll be having constant nightmares about anthropomorphic leather couches."
The League: "Fine, but you have to deal with it."
Thanks for listening, Melbotis. You can go back to chewing on pig-head now.
Dear Jamie,
Mel not sure of exactly what happen, but Mel suspect you probably are wrong. Mel believe it went more like this:
The League: Dammit woman! We have to do what is right!
Mrs. League: I am so lazy, I can barely talk.
The League: Jamie, get off the couch so I can return it.
Mrs. League: No. Although I agree the couch is not suitable for this room or our tastes, I am sooooooo lazy, I plan to just lay here so we can't get rid of the couch. besides, we could probably sell this couch to a struggling immigrant family at an incredibly inflated price, thus taking all of their hard earned money and depriving them of a chance at the American Dream. Bwah-ha-ha-ha!
The LEague: I cannot stand idly by and allow you to continue to abuse immigrants! We're returning that couch, and you're going to call the Roomstore yourself!
Mrs. League: In the light of your unwavering righteous wisdom, I see the error of my ways. I shall call the Roomstore.
The League: I'm so proud of you and love you so much. Right, Melbotis?
Melbotis: Right, Ryan!
All Together: Ha ha ha ha ha...
(and... scene)
So, you see, Jamie. mel say there are many ways to perceive the events and how they happened. mel sad that your perception is so tragically incorrect.
Monday, February 23, 2004
Slow weekend.
This is what happens when you actualloy buy a house in the suburbs, Leaguers. I spent Saturday replacing a sprinkler head on our automated sprinkler system. It turned out to very inexpensive and fairly quick to do. Then, we went to Arizona Cactus and got several plants for the yard, then some soil and planted those. It's raining like a bastard today, so i am curious to see if we'll still have cacti when i get home, or if they'll all have flooded away.
And now is as good a time as any to relate The Tale of the Couch (or: Be Careful When Purchasing a Sectional Sofa).
Last August, Jamie and I decided it was time to get a new sofa. The sofa we had was purchased immediately after college with little funding behind it, and the wear of two unweildy Steans men and a chubby dog had ground the thing into uselessness.
We also had family coming for Thanksgiving, so we decided we should replace the sofa sooner rather than later.
Jamie and I also have a steadfast rule: Our house is not intended to impress other people, it's there to entertain us. And as such, we began to also consider what Jamie might like best. And if Jamie likes one thing, it's getting a little shut-eye. So, while wandering around one furniture store, we said to ourselves "Ah-HA!!!! We shall get two parts of a sectional. One part shall be a two-cushion section, and the other shall be a lounge, so that Jamie may lay down all the time!"
We looked high and we looked low for a new sofa, trying not to travel all over the Valley of the Sun to select one, but making sure we'd given it a good shot. We have a smallish space for a sofa to fit in, and we also knew the sofa would not sit against a wall in the room it was intended for. Jamie and I seemed to be drifting toward a bold, solid color as we looked at our options. There's a whole world of variations on a theme of beige when one looks for a sofa.
At long last, we ended up at Basset furniture. Basset makes custom furniture based upon a wide array of designs and fabric selections. We found just about exactly what we were looking for, got through the process and paid a small deposit on what was to be a fairly expensive piece of furniture. We wnet home knowing that in about 6 weeks, we'd have our furniture.
7 weeks passed and I called Basset. I was told one part of the sectional had arrived, and they were awaiting the secodn part. It should be in within two weeks.
Two weeks later I called and was told that the second piece had not arrived, and could I wait two weeks?
The process more or less repeated itself, and I asked to speak with a manager. "He's not available. Can he call you back?"
"Sure."
Nobody called.
And then THIS process repeated itself.
Finally we reached about a week before Thanksgiving, and I still had no new sofa. So I drove down to the store (which, just by point of explanation, is about halfway across town). I asked for the manager by name, and upon seeing me, he pretty much freaked out. "We have half of your sectional."
"I know that."
"But there was a mix-up, and they sent the wrong piece for the other half."
"How long have you known that?"
It urned out they'd known that for a LONG time, but someohow had not fixed the error in their system. So basically the order was coming up in their computers as "completed," but, in fact, was not. I was assured that they would correct the situation.
Two interesting things happened while I was there. Apparently everyone at Basset knew who I was from my frequent calling. Steve the mqnager said "this is Mr. Steans," and they would say "Ohhhh, Mr. Steeeans." And then I heard some guy, who did NOT know who i was decribing a situation similar to mine and talking about what a chump the customer was. It was then pointed out I was Mr. Steans, and the guy got kind of quiet.
Steve the Manager told me that I would get several hundred dollars taken off the price of the sofa if I didn't ask for my money back at this moment, and, as a bonus, I'd get a loaner sofa for the interim.
It sounded good. If I were patient, I'd get the sofa I wanted for cheap, and I'd get a nice, leather sofa for the interim, and a nice little story about the sectional when it did show up.
The interim sofa showed up as promised. No problems there. We had the interim sofa by THanksgiving, and I gave the old sofa to a poor student in need of a place to sit.
But then things got quiet from Basset.
I called again.
"Where's my sectional?"
And I got the same old story from them "Well, it looks like you got a piece of it in the warehouse, and they're waiting ona second piece..."
"Can i talk to Steve, your manager?"
On hold.
"He's not available."
So given some time off right between Christmas and the New Year, I went down to Basset to figure out what the story was.
I pulled into the lot, and the sign was gone. Basset had closed it's doors. And they had a few hundred of my bucks.
I freaked out. BUT...
there was a sheet of paper taped to the window of the Basset store. It directed all inquires to THe Roomstore which sat next door.
I wandered in and asked what was going on. They were able to track my paperwork after a while. it turned out Basset was financially attached to The Roomstore, and The Roomstore now was supposed to take care of my business for me.
It says here we got in one piece of the sectional..." the girl read from the screen.
"Okay..." I sighed, rubbing my eyes. "I want my money back."
THey promised a refund of my deposit. I was happy. I was curious that they didn't ask about the interim sofa, but whatever.
Jamie and I went in search of a new couch, and upon visiting a different store, found one immediately. We ordered it, and off we went.
"You ordered a new sofa?" people asked me, incredulous that I would take such a dare again.
"Well," I would nod, "I do need a place to sit."
"You have that other sofa."
"I don't like the other sofa."
"I can't believe you're willing to take that chance again."
Well, people, there are millions of sofas safely delivered each year. I figured we could take our chances on this one actually arriving.
But my re-imbursement check didn't arrive.
"Did you wait 7-10 days sir?"
"Uhm. It's been like 7."
"It could be there in 10 days."
So I waited.
And it didn't show.
So i called again.
"Oh God," said the girl on the other end of the phone. "They never even started your paerwork to get the check. Hold on."
I waited, staring into the image of the firey abyss I imagined the whole shopping center becoming.
"Sir," she chirped. "I've begun your paperwork. You can expect your check in 7-10 days."
"Okay..." I said, imagining the whole strip center an inferno.
But then... the check came. And it even cleared.
Knowing we had a cleared check and a new sofa en route, I took a moment to pause. "What are we going to do with the interim sofa?" I asked Jamie.
And we considered our many options, but what I DID NOT want to happen was for us to be tracked down in a year when we'd given the sofa away and were unable to retrieve the thing. Nor could we let them know we had it until we had received the new sofa.
Which arrived two weeks ahead of schedule on Friday.
"We need to return the interim sofa."
"I don't think they know we have it."
"We need to return it."
"Look, you take care of it."
So Jamie called, and The Roomstore came within 24 hours to actually come and retrieve their own sofa. "You have MERCHANDISE?" Apparently the girl was horrified to find this out. Apparently they had no record of the interim couch and we could have kept it for all eternity.
So we have the new couch. It's big and blue and has seats for more than two. I'm pretty pleased with the darn thing. I just wish we'd gone to Stone Creek Furniture to begin with. I also found out I CAN be patient and not turn into a weepy mess when confronted wiht an irritating but non-life-threatening annoyance.
This is what happens when you actualloy buy a house in the suburbs, Leaguers. I spent Saturday replacing a sprinkler head on our automated sprinkler system. It turned out to very inexpensive and fairly quick to do. Then, we went to Arizona Cactus and got several plants for the yard, then some soil and planted those. It's raining like a bastard today, so i am curious to see if we'll still have cacti when i get home, or if they'll all have flooded away.
And now is as good a time as any to relate The Tale of the Couch (or: Be Careful When Purchasing a Sectional Sofa).
Last August, Jamie and I decided it was time to get a new sofa. The sofa we had was purchased immediately after college with little funding behind it, and the wear of two unweildy Steans men and a chubby dog had ground the thing into uselessness.
We also had family coming for Thanksgiving, so we decided we should replace the sofa sooner rather than later.
Jamie and I also have a steadfast rule: Our house is not intended to impress other people, it's there to entertain us. And as such, we began to also consider what Jamie might like best. And if Jamie likes one thing, it's getting a little shut-eye. So, while wandering around one furniture store, we said to ourselves "Ah-HA!!!! We shall get two parts of a sectional. One part shall be a two-cushion section, and the other shall be a lounge, so that Jamie may lay down all the time!"
We looked high and we looked low for a new sofa, trying not to travel all over the Valley of the Sun to select one, but making sure we'd given it a good shot. We have a smallish space for a sofa to fit in, and we also knew the sofa would not sit against a wall in the room it was intended for. Jamie and I seemed to be drifting toward a bold, solid color as we looked at our options. There's a whole world of variations on a theme of beige when one looks for a sofa.
At long last, we ended up at Basset furniture. Basset makes custom furniture based upon a wide array of designs and fabric selections. We found just about exactly what we were looking for, got through the process and paid a small deposit on what was to be a fairly expensive piece of furniture. We wnet home knowing that in about 6 weeks, we'd have our furniture.
7 weeks passed and I called Basset. I was told one part of the sectional had arrived, and they were awaiting the secodn part. It should be in within two weeks.
Two weeks later I called and was told that the second piece had not arrived, and could I wait two weeks?
The process more or less repeated itself, and I asked to speak with a manager. "He's not available. Can he call you back?"
"Sure."
Nobody called.
And then THIS process repeated itself.
Finally we reached about a week before Thanksgiving, and I still had no new sofa. So I drove down to the store (which, just by point of explanation, is about halfway across town). I asked for the manager by name, and upon seeing me, he pretty much freaked out. "We have half of your sectional."
"I know that."
"But there was a mix-up, and they sent the wrong piece for the other half."
"How long have you known that?"
It urned out they'd known that for a LONG time, but someohow had not fixed the error in their system. So basically the order was coming up in their computers as "completed," but, in fact, was not. I was assured that they would correct the situation.
Two interesting things happened while I was there. Apparently everyone at Basset knew who I was from my frequent calling. Steve the mqnager said "this is Mr. Steans," and they would say "Ohhhh, Mr. Steeeans." And then I heard some guy, who did NOT know who i was decribing a situation similar to mine and talking about what a chump the customer was. It was then pointed out I was Mr. Steans, and the guy got kind of quiet.
Steve the Manager told me that I would get several hundred dollars taken off the price of the sofa if I didn't ask for my money back at this moment, and, as a bonus, I'd get a loaner sofa for the interim.
It sounded good. If I were patient, I'd get the sofa I wanted for cheap, and I'd get a nice, leather sofa for the interim, and a nice little story about the sectional when it did show up.
The interim sofa showed up as promised. No problems there. We had the interim sofa by THanksgiving, and I gave the old sofa to a poor student in need of a place to sit.
But then things got quiet from Basset.
I called again.
"Where's my sectional?"
And I got the same old story from them "Well, it looks like you got a piece of it in the warehouse, and they're waiting ona second piece..."
"Can i talk to Steve, your manager?"
On hold.
"He's not available."
So given some time off right between Christmas and the New Year, I went down to Basset to figure out what the story was.
I pulled into the lot, and the sign was gone. Basset had closed it's doors. And they had a few hundred of my bucks.
I freaked out. BUT...
there was a sheet of paper taped to the window of the Basset store. It directed all inquires to THe Roomstore which sat next door.
I wandered in and asked what was going on. They were able to track my paperwork after a while. it turned out Basset was financially attached to The Roomstore, and The Roomstore now was supposed to take care of my business for me.
It says here we got in one piece of the sectional..." the girl read from the screen.
"Okay..." I sighed, rubbing my eyes. "I want my money back."
THey promised a refund of my deposit. I was happy. I was curious that they didn't ask about the interim sofa, but whatever.
Jamie and I went in search of a new couch, and upon visiting a different store, found one immediately. We ordered it, and off we went.
"You ordered a new sofa?" people asked me, incredulous that I would take such a dare again.
"Well," I would nod, "I do need a place to sit."
"You have that other sofa."
"I don't like the other sofa."
"I can't believe you're willing to take that chance again."
Well, people, there are millions of sofas safely delivered each year. I figured we could take our chances on this one actually arriving.
But my re-imbursement check didn't arrive.
"Did you wait 7-10 days sir?"
"Uhm. It's been like 7."
"It could be there in 10 days."
So I waited.
And it didn't show.
So i called again.
"Oh God," said the girl on the other end of the phone. "They never even started your paerwork to get the check. Hold on."
I waited, staring into the image of the firey abyss I imagined the whole shopping center becoming.
"Sir," she chirped. "I've begun your paperwork. You can expect your check in 7-10 days."
"Okay..." I said, imagining the whole strip center an inferno.
But then... the check came. And it even cleared.
Knowing we had a cleared check and a new sofa en route, I took a moment to pause. "What are we going to do with the interim sofa?" I asked Jamie.
And we considered our many options, but what I DID NOT want to happen was for us to be tracked down in a year when we'd given the sofa away and were unable to retrieve the thing. Nor could we let them know we had it until we had received the new sofa.
Which arrived two weeks ahead of schedule on Friday.
"We need to return the interim sofa."
"I don't think they know we have it."
"We need to return it."
"Look, you take care of it."
So Jamie called, and The Roomstore came within 24 hours to actually come and retrieve their own sofa. "You have MERCHANDISE?" Apparently the girl was horrified to find this out. Apparently they had no record of the interim couch and we could have kept it for all eternity.
So we have the new couch. It's big and blue and has seats for more than two. I'm pretty pleased with the darn thing. I just wish we'd gone to Stone Creek Furniture to begin with. I also found out I CAN be patient and not turn into a weepy mess when confronted wiht an irritating but non-life-threatening annoyance.
Friday, February 20, 2004
In my post below about Survivor, I failed to mention the program which actually met and surpassed my expectations. But because it's PBS, there's no game, just an experiment.
THe show was Frontier House and I watched it the first time in the Spring of 2002. They've had other shows in the series. Manor House was a favorite of mine. But just don't be surprised when there's no contests and no immunity challenges. No prizes at the end. Just folks playing roles as assigned.
The idea of Frontier House was to take three families from different walks of life and see what life might have been like in the summer of 1883 in the wilds of Montana. There's still drama and conniving. The family from Malibu can't seem to get their heads around how NOT to muck with the experiment by trading with the one modern family in walking distance, the middle-class folks form the South do fairly well, but the family has a difficult time holding it together, and the young couple has their own fair share of adjustments to make (not the least of their dissatisfaction at having to end the experiment).
Nobody walks away with an Aztek, and nobody gets $1 million. But it's interesting to watch, and a genuine test of mettle. If any of the shows in the series come on PBS, they're certainly worth checking out.
THe show was Frontier House and I watched it the first time in the Spring of 2002. They've had other shows in the series. Manor House was a favorite of mine. But just don't be surprised when there's no contests and no immunity challenges. No prizes at the end. Just folks playing roles as assigned.
The idea of Frontier House was to take three families from different walks of life and see what life might have been like in the summer of 1883 in the wilds of Montana. There's still drama and conniving. The family from Malibu can't seem to get their heads around how NOT to muck with the experiment by trading with the one modern family in walking distance, the middle-class folks form the South do fairly well, but the family has a difficult time holding it together, and the young couple has their own fair share of adjustments to make (not the least of their dissatisfaction at having to end the experiment).
Nobody walks away with an Aztek, and nobody gets $1 million. But it's interesting to watch, and a genuine test of mettle. If any of the shows in the series come on PBS, they're certainly worth checking out.
I'll be honest. I never cared much for Survivor.
The initial ads had me upbeat. I was misled to believe it was a program about fat Americans dumped onto an uncharted island and forced to survive and outlast one another, which proved partially true. I expected Lord of the Flies style warfare and a chance to see if people can really work together or if they really are doomed to destory one another. A tiny microcosm on CBS.
What I hadn't anticipated were all of the immunity challenges,voting one another off, etc... I expected to genuinely watch people crumble as they sat back and tried to decide whether they had strength of will to outlast the others in their wretched condition, or whether that Lay-Z-Boy at home suddenly seemed like a much better idea.
Survivor has t's own rules and has games, and alliances and all this other stuff. But to me, the fun would have come out of seeing if fat Americans could have really learned to live off the land.
I mean, at one point, this was humanity's natural state, standing around trying to figure out how to survive. There was no host to force a vote off the island. There were no games, etc... and certainly the idea of "immunity" when people really wanted to nail you was next to inconceivable. I am glad that viewers seem to recognize THIS IS A GAME. Already in season 2, I am led to believe, people talked about strategies and alliances and knew how to play the game.
And so, instead of being totally disappointed, at least I can say "well, both fans and contestants take it for what it is."
What I find infinitely more interesting are Dedman's recaps of Survivor. Short, to the point, and none of the annoying "oh look, I got a digereedoo" music. Also, Dedman's recaps do not insert "meaningful" glances every time someone makes a statement.
Before I go and make everyone think I've got a swelled head about game shows on TV, I will mention that I watched "The Littlest Groom" on Fox. And it was boring. Horribly, horribly boring. Until the last five minutes, anyway, when it turned darkly evil. I suppose people assume Little People must have magical powers which will make them innately interesting, but, I guess to the producer's surprise, take away the Little, and you have People. And not terribly fascinating people at that. But, luckily it only runs for two episodes, so I can tune in for the last five minutes on Monday and see how this fiasco winds up.
I, myself, am also awaiting the return of Man Vs. Beast on Fox. There's nothing more humbling than watching the world hotdog eating champ get his ass handed to him by a GRIZZLY BEAR!!!!!
As a side note, the Saga of the Couch is drawing to a close. When it is completed, I shall detail it herein.
The initial ads had me upbeat. I was misled to believe it was a program about fat Americans dumped onto an uncharted island and forced to survive and outlast one another, which proved partially true. I expected Lord of the Flies style warfare and a chance to see if people can really work together or if they really are doomed to destory one another. A tiny microcosm on CBS.
What I hadn't anticipated were all of the immunity challenges,voting one another off, etc... I expected to genuinely watch people crumble as they sat back and tried to decide whether they had strength of will to outlast the others in their wretched condition, or whether that Lay-Z-Boy at home suddenly seemed like a much better idea.
Survivor has t's own rules and has games, and alliances and all this other stuff. But to me, the fun would have come out of seeing if fat Americans could have really learned to live off the land.
I mean, at one point, this was humanity's natural state, standing around trying to figure out how to survive. There was no host to force a vote off the island. There were no games, etc... and certainly the idea of "immunity" when people really wanted to nail you was next to inconceivable. I am glad that viewers seem to recognize THIS IS A GAME. Already in season 2, I am led to believe, people talked about strategies and alliances and knew how to play the game.
And so, instead of being totally disappointed, at least I can say "well, both fans and contestants take it for what it is."
What I find infinitely more interesting are Dedman's recaps of Survivor. Short, to the point, and none of the annoying "oh look, I got a digereedoo" music. Also, Dedman's recaps do not insert "meaningful" glances every time someone makes a statement.
Before I go and make everyone think I've got a swelled head about game shows on TV, I will mention that I watched "The Littlest Groom" on Fox. And it was boring. Horribly, horribly boring. Until the last five minutes, anyway, when it turned darkly evil. I suppose people assume Little People must have magical powers which will make them innately interesting, but, I guess to the producer's surprise, take away the Little, and you have People. And not terribly fascinating people at that. But, luckily it only runs for two episodes, so I can tune in for the last five minutes on Monday and see how this fiasco winds up.
I, myself, am also awaiting the return of Man Vs. Beast on Fox. There's nothing more humbling than watching the world hotdog eating champ get his ass handed to him by a GRIZZLY BEAR!!!!!
As a side note, the Saga of the Couch is drawing to a close. When it is completed, I shall detail it herein.
Thursday, February 19, 2004
I was planning on writing something very similar when i found the time, but thankfully, The Onion has once again saved me the trouble.
God bless my parents for only occasionally asking how I would use an RTF degree.
God bless my parents for only occasionally asking how I would use an RTF degree.
The League does not often travel abroad. In fact, The League has been confined to the golden shores of North America for more than 28 years. Mrs. League has been just about everywhere, but her dreams of travel ended the day she hooked up with an RTF major with no chance of disposable income.
But one of the outside benefits of working at a university is that you meet people from all over the world who come in pursuit of the knowledge your particular institution has to offer.
And so it was that I was asked to drop off some translation equipment for 25-odd Chinese visitors last night. Essentially, the equipment consisted of one microphone and broadcast device (with a single on/off switch) and 22+ headsets and receivers (with a single on/ volume dial).
"And we need them there by 5:15," said the boss.
"So I can actually leave by 5:15? I haven't done that since before the holidays."
"(The Dean of something or other) will be there. Give them to her. She's translating for the Dean." Because Dean (we'll call her Lee) speaks Mandarin. I guess.
So I was walking out the door with co-worker Eric P., and suddenly I had a flashback to my tech-monkey job in Austin.
"Oh, God. She's going to get nervous when she sees all the black wire."
"You think?"
"I'm never getting out of there."
Apparently the business school was hosting a dinner for several visitors from a Chinese partner of Motorola, and this was a big dinner to honor their arrival or something. I know only a few things. Among these is the fact that I know next to nothing about Chinese language, culture or custom.
So I got there and laid out the devices on the windowsill so they could easily be picked up. Dean Lee was not yet there to drop any bombshells. I turned around, and all 5'1" of her was standing behind me.
"So you're going to stay and help with these?"
"Ah, no. I'm just here to drop them off."
"They look complicated. How do they work?"
"There's just one button. Very simple."
"They look very complicated. I think you should stay."
I watch as several trays of food come in, and I realize I'm running out of time to escape.
"There's just one switch. You'll be fine," I say reassuringly.
"So you're here in place of Jeff?"
And I realize that my boss was supposed to be here. THat he has DUPED me into taking the hit for him.
"I think you should stay."
"Oh." I say. "Okay."
I stand around for another minute, staring into space and trying to become one with the woodwork.
"You need to get a bartender in here" a woman is telling me.
"Excuse me?"
"You need to get a bartender in here. There's nobody to serve drinks."
"Look," I can here myself saying, and I realize I'm kind of pissed. "I don't work here. I work for Dean Lee."
You see, I've been a tech-monkey. I ran wire and cable and captured video all silently and without being noticed for many, many years. And as such, people always assume that you are a part of the great inner-workings of the building you're in. They always assume you can do things like, say, pull a bartender out of your ass. I have nothing against bartenders. At events like this, they're usually the only decent person in the room. But I was also wearing a shirt which read "School of Engineering" across it, so I'm not really sure why I was confused with the University Club staff.
The lady looked at me for a moment, and horror crept into her eyes.
Universities are incredibly stratified. She had just identified me with the serving folks, and I was part of the Dean's staff. Suddenly, despite my haggard and irritated persona so typical of the serving folk, I was a guy who could tell the Dean that this lady is an idiot. And that, my friends, can be incredibly awkward. A single misstep can effect the way in which you are able to engage whole units for years.
In that same instant i realized I was no longer part of the serving staff and endless sea of tech monkeys which keep the university running. I am THE MANAGER OF DISTANCE LEARNING, AND PITY BE TO THOSE WHO FALL IN MY PATH. But all of that posturing didn't mean that I didn't have to stick around.
At this point, all the Chinese businessmen filed in, and too late I remembered: Chinese businessmen have a very distinct ritual of handing out business cards. You face the receiver squarely, and with two hands and a bit of supplication, you present the card.
"I have no card," I whispered to the Dean.
"Ooooookkkaaaaaayyyy," she said between clenched teeth. Ah, career suicide! Dean Lee was now seeing me for a boob, sent to replace Jeff and having no business cards! Bloody hell, the Chinese businessmen could see this as a slight, or something, i guessed, and none of them knew that until ten minutes before I was to drop off the receivers and bolt. going home early to see my wife in daylight for the first time in a week.
I was presented with one card. Dean Lee quickly explained I had no cards to our visitor, and I assume disaster was averted.
"Sit down and have some dinner," said the Dean.
"I should probably stick by the equipment."
"Sit down," said the Dean.
Unsolicited, one of the Chinese businessmen brought me a Budweiser. Now, when working for the University, one does not drink, swear or pass gas before their superior. It's actually pretty strict in the rules about drinking, and frankly, I don't know Dean Lee well enough to guess whether or not she drinks. So I smiled, took the beer appreciatively, and wondered why the University Club's best beer is Budweiser.
After a moment, i realized I had just dodged a bullet. One, i had considered turning the beer down, but took it anyway. Two, upon taking beer, I had denied myself my usual inclination to drink straight from the bottle. I guess I spent too long in Texas. Anyway, everyone was pouring their beer into their wine glasses.
Now Dean Lee was explaining who i was. I nodded and waved at the folks at my table, not sure exactly what Dean Lee was telling them (since I wasn't clear on whether or not she knew my last name).
"Do you have any brochures?" asked Dean Lee.
"Any what?"
"Brochures or marketing materials?"
"I just..." it sounded so weak now. "I just came to drop off the headsets."
She turned to the Chinese Businessmen and explained I, in fact, had no materials to share with them.
"Go get some food," she said.
"I just ate before I left," which was true. Rachel had provided me with cold pizza (jalapeno and pineapple... mmmmm).
"Go get some food," she said again. Ah, if I were not to eat, these folks might take it the wrong way. Luckily they had grilled new potatos. Mmmmm....
We toasted each other alot (mostly in Mandarin), and we listened to a few short speeches.
"So I don't think we need the translation devices," Dean Lee said.
"No?"
"I think I'll just translate for the Dean."
"Oh. Okay."
The speech made little, if no sense. Despite extensive travelleing in China, the Dean apparently doesn't realize that Chinese speech-making is NOT the same yuk-fest American speechmaking tends to be.
My department was even mentioned, but I was not pointed out as managing that department, which led me to believe I had done SOMETHING wrong. Or maybe not. You never know.
I ate some salad, listening intently to the conversation, trying to figure out if I knew any chinese. I do not.
Finally, at quarter to seven, Dean Lee said "I think you can go."
"Are you sure?"
"Yes."
The Chinese Businessmen looked at me sadly. I think they, too, wished to go. I think they thought that young american male promised more excitement for the evening than middle-aged dean lady. But I was also not really wanting to escort these guys around to a bunch of bars and strip clubs on a Wednesday night.
I had left my cell phone in my car (expecting to just drop off the receivers and leave), so jamie knew nothing of any of this.
"I was stuck in dinner with 25 chinese businessmen!"
"So you already ate?"
"Well, yes."
"Okay fine. See you when you get home."
I began to wonder if those guys would understand the value of a $20 in an American strip bar.
But one of the outside benefits of working at a university is that you meet people from all over the world who come in pursuit of the knowledge your particular institution has to offer.
And so it was that I was asked to drop off some translation equipment for 25-odd Chinese visitors last night. Essentially, the equipment consisted of one microphone and broadcast device (with a single on/off switch) and 22+ headsets and receivers (with a single on/ volume dial).
"And we need them there by 5:15," said the boss.
"So I can actually leave by 5:15? I haven't done that since before the holidays."
"(The Dean of something or other) will be there. Give them to her. She's translating for the Dean." Because Dean (we'll call her Lee) speaks Mandarin. I guess.
So I was walking out the door with co-worker Eric P., and suddenly I had a flashback to my tech-monkey job in Austin.
"Oh, God. She's going to get nervous when she sees all the black wire."
"You think?"
"I'm never getting out of there."
Apparently the business school was hosting a dinner for several visitors from a Chinese partner of Motorola, and this was a big dinner to honor their arrival or something. I know only a few things. Among these is the fact that I know next to nothing about Chinese language, culture or custom.
So I got there and laid out the devices on the windowsill so they could easily be picked up. Dean Lee was not yet there to drop any bombshells. I turned around, and all 5'1" of her was standing behind me.
"So you're going to stay and help with these?"
"Ah, no. I'm just here to drop them off."
"They look complicated. How do they work?"
"There's just one button. Very simple."
"They look very complicated. I think you should stay."
I watch as several trays of food come in, and I realize I'm running out of time to escape.
"There's just one switch. You'll be fine," I say reassuringly.
"So you're here in place of Jeff?"
And I realize that my boss was supposed to be here. THat he has DUPED me into taking the hit for him.
"I think you should stay."
"Oh." I say. "Okay."
I stand around for another minute, staring into space and trying to become one with the woodwork.
"You need to get a bartender in here" a woman is telling me.
"Excuse me?"
"You need to get a bartender in here. There's nobody to serve drinks."
"Look," I can here myself saying, and I realize I'm kind of pissed. "I don't work here. I work for Dean Lee."
You see, I've been a tech-monkey. I ran wire and cable and captured video all silently and without being noticed for many, many years. And as such, people always assume that you are a part of the great inner-workings of the building you're in. They always assume you can do things like, say, pull a bartender out of your ass. I have nothing against bartenders. At events like this, they're usually the only decent person in the room. But I was also wearing a shirt which read "School of Engineering" across it, so I'm not really sure why I was confused with the University Club staff.
The lady looked at me for a moment, and horror crept into her eyes.
Universities are incredibly stratified. She had just identified me with the serving folks, and I was part of the Dean's staff. Suddenly, despite my haggard and irritated persona so typical of the serving folk, I was a guy who could tell the Dean that this lady is an idiot. And that, my friends, can be incredibly awkward. A single misstep can effect the way in which you are able to engage whole units for years.
In that same instant i realized I was no longer part of the serving staff and endless sea of tech monkeys which keep the university running. I am THE MANAGER OF DISTANCE LEARNING, AND PITY BE TO THOSE WHO FALL IN MY PATH. But all of that posturing didn't mean that I didn't have to stick around.
At this point, all the Chinese businessmen filed in, and too late I remembered: Chinese businessmen have a very distinct ritual of handing out business cards. You face the receiver squarely, and with two hands and a bit of supplication, you present the card.
"I have no card," I whispered to the Dean.
"Ooooookkkaaaaaayyyy," she said between clenched teeth. Ah, career suicide! Dean Lee was now seeing me for a boob, sent to replace Jeff and having no business cards! Bloody hell, the Chinese businessmen could see this as a slight, or something, i guessed, and none of them knew that until ten minutes before I was to drop off the receivers and bolt. going home early to see my wife in daylight for the first time in a week.
I was presented with one card. Dean Lee quickly explained I had no cards to our visitor, and I assume disaster was averted.
"Sit down and have some dinner," said the Dean.
"I should probably stick by the equipment."
"Sit down," said the Dean.
Unsolicited, one of the Chinese businessmen brought me a Budweiser. Now, when working for the University, one does not drink, swear or pass gas before their superior. It's actually pretty strict in the rules about drinking, and frankly, I don't know Dean Lee well enough to guess whether or not she drinks. So I smiled, took the beer appreciatively, and wondered why the University Club's best beer is Budweiser.
After a moment, i realized I had just dodged a bullet. One, i had considered turning the beer down, but took it anyway. Two, upon taking beer, I had denied myself my usual inclination to drink straight from the bottle. I guess I spent too long in Texas. Anyway, everyone was pouring their beer into their wine glasses.
Now Dean Lee was explaining who i was. I nodded and waved at the folks at my table, not sure exactly what Dean Lee was telling them (since I wasn't clear on whether or not she knew my last name).
"Do you have any brochures?" asked Dean Lee.
"Any what?"
"Brochures or marketing materials?"
"I just..." it sounded so weak now. "I just came to drop off the headsets."
She turned to the Chinese Businessmen and explained I, in fact, had no materials to share with them.
"Go get some food," she said.
"I just ate before I left," which was true. Rachel had provided me with cold pizza (jalapeno and pineapple... mmmmm).
"Go get some food," she said again. Ah, if I were not to eat, these folks might take it the wrong way. Luckily they had grilled new potatos. Mmmmm....
We toasted each other alot (mostly in Mandarin), and we listened to a few short speeches.
"So I don't think we need the translation devices," Dean Lee said.
"No?"
"I think I'll just translate for the Dean."
"Oh. Okay."
The speech made little, if no sense. Despite extensive travelleing in China, the Dean apparently doesn't realize that Chinese speech-making is NOT the same yuk-fest American speechmaking tends to be.
My department was even mentioned, but I was not pointed out as managing that department, which led me to believe I had done SOMETHING wrong. Or maybe not. You never know.
I ate some salad, listening intently to the conversation, trying to figure out if I knew any chinese. I do not.
Finally, at quarter to seven, Dean Lee said "I think you can go."
"Are you sure?"
"Yes."
The Chinese Businessmen looked at me sadly. I think they, too, wished to go. I think they thought that young american male promised more excitement for the evening than middle-aged dean lady. But I was also not really wanting to escort these guys around to a bunch of bars and strip clubs on a Wednesday night.
I had left my cell phone in my car (expecting to just drop off the receivers and leave), so jamie knew nothing of any of this.
"I was stuck in dinner with 25 chinese businessmen!"
"So you already ate?"
"Well, yes."
"Okay fine. See you when you get home."
I began to wonder if those guys would understand the value of a $20 in an American strip bar.
Wednesday, February 18, 2004
Because I am super busy today, and because Jim sent this, and because it's one of the funniest things I've seen in weeks.
Here you go.
THanks to Jim for forwarding me the link.
Here you go.
THanks to Jim for forwarding me the link.
Tuesday, February 17, 2004
As a little kid I loved The Jeffersons. I do not know why, but I wwatched it all the time. In middle school, I was into Mr. Ed. In high school I watched lots of Twin Peaks, mostly because of Sherilyn Fenn.
Now, my worlds collide once more as Sherman Helmsley is set to take over duties on Mr. Ed. And Sherilyn Fenn is cast as Wilbur's wife. Will this be the best show ever?
And, wow... Fox decided to make the horse "from the street" as well as being smart alecky! What will those clever folks think up next...?
LOS ANGELES, California (Hollywood Reporter) -- Sherman Hemsley of "The Jeffersons" fame is lending his voice to the title character in Fox's updated version of "Mister Ed."
Hemsley joins David Alan Basche, who was previously tapped to play Wilbur Post, and Sherilyn Fenn, tapped as Wilbur's wife.
"Mister Ed" is a remake of the 1960s talking-horse sitcom. This time around, the equine title character has an urban sensibility.
The original starred Alan Young as Wilbur and Allan "Rocky" Lane as the voice of Mister Ed. The show ran on CBS from 1961 to 1965 after an initial syndicated run in early 1961.
Now, my worlds collide once more as Sherman Helmsley is set to take over duties on Mr. Ed. And Sherilyn Fenn is cast as Wilbur's wife. Will this be the best show ever?
And, wow... Fox decided to make the horse "from the street" as well as being smart alecky! What will those clever folks think up next...?
LOS ANGELES, California (Hollywood Reporter) -- Sherman Hemsley of "The Jeffersons" fame is lending his voice to the title character in Fox's updated version of "Mister Ed."
Hemsley joins David Alan Basche, who was previously tapped to play Wilbur Post, and Sherilyn Fenn, tapped as Wilbur's wife.
"Mister Ed" is a remake of the 1960s talking-horse sitcom. This time around, the equine title character has an urban sensibility.
The original starred Alan Young as Wilbur and Allan "Rocky" Lane as the voice of Mister Ed. The show ran on CBS from 1961 to 1965 after an initial syndicated run in early 1961.
Due to a busy and hectic schedule, Jamie had forgotten to bring home my VD gift over the weekend. No big deal. I'm not big on VD, and I was busy enough to just be glad to have time to giver her a present.
However, last night when I arrived home, Jamie handed me my present. Folks, you are now reading from the pages of the proud owner of Superman seat covers.
I have to admit, I was expecting something more long the lines of a card, so when I received the seat covers, I'm not really sure I was able to fully express my excitement.
Anyway, the seat covers are now in the car, and boy, are they snazzy. It's possible Jamie and I have more money than brains (which isn't saying much), but these are the things we do out here in the desert to keep ourselves from going insane. One could argue that from the outside, it looks like we're going in the opposite direction. And that's okay, but at least we're keeping ourselves amused.
However, last night when I arrived home, Jamie handed me my present. Folks, you are now reading from the pages of the proud owner of Superman seat covers.
I have to admit, I was expecting something more long the lines of a card, so when I received the seat covers, I'm not really sure I was able to fully express my excitement.
Anyway, the seat covers are now in the car, and boy, are they snazzy. It's possible Jamie and I have more money than brains (which isn't saying much), but these are the things we do out here in the desert to keep ourselves from going insane. One could argue that from the outside, it looks like we're going in the opposite direction. And that's okay, but at least we're keeping ourselves amused.
Monday, February 16, 2004
talking George Bush dolls have turned up here before. Well, once again, Toys That Should Not Be presents a faithful recreation of our fearless leader(s).
What's interesting is you have choice of your favorite Bush, or you can also get a Stay Puft Marshmallow Man Bobblehead on the same page (insert your own Clinton joke here).
What's interesting is you have choice of your favorite Bush, or you can also get a Stay Puft Marshmallow Man Bobblehead on the same page (insert your own Clinton joke here).
small victories:
1) I located the movie: Comic Book: The Movie which has had comic fandom quietly abuzz for a week or so.
2) I located the Justice League Hawkgirl action figure. I had assumed for so long that I would NEVER find Hawkgirl, that I had actually given up. Demand for the figure is high, and the few internet sites which had her were charging upwards of $30. I got her off the peg for $6.50.
3) The new Batman toys will include a "Batcave" which appears to be insanely large
4) The Justice League line of toys will soon include a version of the Satellite base. It's waaayyyy under scale, but I don't have an extra story on my house to store the full-scale model.
5) Superman comics are getting back on track. Kind of. Wait until April. The current storyline is shaping up well, as was the last one, but I'm waiting until April.
6) Superman comics actually went back to press for once, which means there is an upswing in interest.
7) I am not sick. I got enough sleep and feel okay today. I must have dodged that particular bullet.
I watched all of "Comic Book: The Movie" this weekend. And I am surprised to find out what a huge dork Mark Hamill is in real life. Wow. What a colossal nerd. But that's okay. He must actually LOVE being Luke Skywalker, because I cannot believe how dedicated to nerd-life he actually is. Comic Book: the Movie (herefeter referred to as CBTM) is about a guy hitting middle-age who loves comics and has been brought on board the pre-production team for a film adapatation of his favorite character, Captain Courage. Captain Courage has been changed to Codename: C.O.U.R.A.G.E., and is set to begin production as an ultra-violent revenge fantasy, intended to appeal to a modern audience.
Anyway, Mark Hamill's character decides he doesn't like the updated version of the character, and while at the San Diego ComicCon, goes about trying to persuade the producers that they should stay true to the original (if dated) premise. It attempts to follow the semi-improvised "documentaries" of the Christopher Guest genre, but only occasionally does it seem to work.
What follows is less than hilarious, and probably best to be avoided by anyone who doesn't have at least one long box in their closet. The movie is so full of inside jokes, I was stunned the release was wide enough I was able to find the DVD at Target. Even casual readers of comics would probably miss a lot of the jokes and references.
The production values are TERRIBLE. Audio is often messy, for some reason, we constantly see the cameraman, and the whole thing is shot on DV cameras (no, there's no film transfer here at all). I do give them credit for beign able to tape at all in the infamously chaotic lanes of the San Diego Comiccon. But one feels that an actual documentary would have far better served the intended purpose of the film.
What was really strange was how many celebrities do appear in CBTM, including Hugh Hefner, Sid Ceasar, Bruce Campbell, Stan Lee, and a host of comic creators (who are all uniformly chubby). It was cool to see some creators I am familiar with, and it was interesting to see them improvising their own personal recollections of Captain Courage (a mish mash of Shazam!, Superman and Captain America).
For some reason they also decided to add in a character of "the camerman", who is pretty much some guy playing "Otto" from The Simpsons. I don't know who this guy is, but he wasn't funny. And when your movie is improvised, that ain't good. There's a particularly irritating scene in which we are reminded that these are all LA folks in which Otto the cameraman tells a girl in a cowboy hat that "Austin, Texas was named after Steve Austin, the Six Million Dollar Man". Wow. THat's hilarous. These are the jokes which didn't end up on the cutting room floor.
In the end, CBTM may serve one terrific purpose, and that's to send a forewarning to producers everywhere. Producers can learn that as they option the rights to comic characters, they don't own the characters. Hell, the comic companies which do own them barely have any control. These characters belong to the fans. Changing the characters, altering them and adding a "hip factor" is not going to add anything to the character, it's just going to water down what made the character popular for 50+ years. There's a correlation between the success of comic based movies and how close they stay to the source material.
Unfortunately, i don't think CBTM is going to hold any producer's attention long enough that it's going to sway their opinions too much. And one wonders if the movie itself, with it's low budget look and feel, and it's wacky, wish-fulfillment ending, wouldn't end up doing more harm than good.
1) I located the movie: Comic Book: The Movie which has had comic fandom quietly abuzz for a week or so.
2) I located the Justice League Hawkgirl action figure. I had assumed for so long that I would NEVER find Hawkgirl, that I had actually given up. Demand for the figure is high, and the few internet sites which had her were charging upwards of $30. I got her off the peg for $6.50.
3) The new Batman toys will include a "Batcave" which appears to be insanely large
4) The Justice League line of toys will soon include a version of the Satellite base. It's waaayyyy under scale, but I don't have an extra story on my house to store the full-scale model.
5) Superman comics are getting back on track. Kind of. Wait until April. The current storyline is shaping up well, as was the last one, but I'm waiting until April.
6) Superman comics actually went back to press for once, which means there is an upswing in interest.
7) I am not sick. I got enough sleep and feel okay today. I must have dodged that particular bullet.
I watched all of "Comic Book: The Movie" this weekend. And I am surprised to find out what a huge dork Mark Hamill is in real life. Wow. What a colossal nerd. But that's okay. He must actually LOVE being Luke Skywalker, because I cannot believe how dedicated to nerd-life he actually is. Comic Book: the Movie (herefeter referred to as CBTM) is about a guy hitting middle-age who loves comics and has been brought on board the pre-production team for a film adapatation of his favorite character, Captain Courage. Captain Courage has been changed to Codename: C.O.U.R.A.G.E., and is set to begin production as an ultra-violent revenge fantasy, intended to appeal to a modern audience.
Anyway, Mark Hamill's character decides he doesn't like the updated version of the character, and while at the San Diego ComicCon, goes about trying to persuade the producers that they should stay true to the original (if dated) premise. It attempts to follow the semi-improvised "documentaries" of the Christopher Guest genre, but only occasionally does it seem to work.
What follows is less than hilarious, and probably best to be avoided by anyone who doesn't have at least one long box in their closet. The movie is so full of inside jokes, I was stunned the release was wide enough I was able to find the DVD at Target. Even casual readers of comics would probably miss a lot of the jokes and references.
The production values are TERRIBLE. Audio is often messy, for some reason, we constantly see the cameraman, and the whole thing is shot on DV cameras (no, there's no film transfer here at all). I do give them credit for beign able to tape at all in the infamously chaotic lanes of the San Diego Comiccon. But one feels that an actual documentary would have far better served the intended purpose of the film.
What was really strange was how many celebrities do appear in CBTM, including Hugh Hefner, Sid Ceasar, Bruce Campbell, Stan Lee, and a host of comic creators (who are all uniformly chubby). It was cool to see some creators I am familiar with, and it was interesting to see them improvising their own personal recollections of Captain Courage (a mish mash of Shazam!, Superman and Captain America).
For some reason they also decided to add in a character of "the camerman", who is pretty much some guy playing "Otto" from The Simpsons. I don't know who this guy is, but he wasn't funny. And when your movie is improvised, that ain't good. There's a particularly irritating scene in which we are reminded that these are all LA folks in which Otto the cameraman tells a girl in a cowboy hat that "Austin, Texas was named after Steve Austin, the Six Million Dollar Man". Wow. THat's hilarous. These are the jokes which didn't end up on the cutting room floor.
In the end, CBTM may serve one terrific purpose, and that's to send a forewarning to producers everywhere. Producers can learn that as they option the rights to comic characters, they don't own the characters. Hell, the comic companies which do own them barely have any control. These characters belong to the fans. Changing the characters, altering them and adding a "hip factor" is not going to add anything to the character, it's just going to water down what made the character popular for 50+ years. There's a correlation between the success of comic based movies and how close they stay to the source material.
Unfortunately, i don't think CBTM is going to hold any producer's attention long enough that it's going to sway their opinions too much. And one wonders if the movie itself, with it's low budget look and feel, and it's wacky, wish-fulfillment ending, wouldn't end up doing more harm than good.
Sunday, February 15, 2004
Well, VD has come and gone. VD is not my favorite holiday. There's a lot of pressure, and not a lot of payoff (get your minds out of the gutters, you pervs), and it's expensive and kind of meaningless unless you're with someone in year one. I am in year... I'm not sure. Anyway, we got married in 2000 if that begins to give you any ideas.
To make matters perhaps less romantic, my in-laws were here and Jamie had a cold and I just had the week from hell at work. And I know this week will stink, so I was thinking about that. Plus I have an exam on Tuesday. So, yes, I was just not in the mood for roses and wine and all that.
My distaste for VD solidified around 1999 when I agreed to take Jamie to a nice little Italian place in Austin called "Romeo's". It's a date kind of place, and we were not the only ones with the idea. Keep in mind, kitchens are outlawed in private homes in Austin, and so everybody eats out all the time as it is. So on VD, all these couples were there and it was chaos and we agreed to sit outside by the gas heater thingy. After an hour and a half wait and ducking an interview with the local Fox affiliate doing a fluff piece on VD, we finally got seated. About five minutes later, the gas ran out, and we were told there was no more gas. We would have to freeze or give up our seat. So we froze and ate luke-warm food. I did get to watch a scene out of a sit-com as a weasely, somewhat grotesque little man tried to maintain the interest of his date by constantly reiterating his financial position (of which, i was quite jealous). I don't remember too many specifics, but he did a pretty good job of it, and it was kind of inspiring (note to self: as you get older and uglier, get richer...)
All in all, I was not feeling terribly romantic at the end of this fiasco.
So this year we stayed warm, ate with Jamie's folks at a local little place run by a dude named "Ziggy", and went home. Jamie says she got me something, but she says it's at her office.
I think I am getting sick, which is irritating. I have not REALLY been sick since I moved out here. Not a cold, not a flu, not a nothing. But I think I am now getting sick. My co-workers will have a good laugh at my expense as I pointed out just last week that I never get sick out here, and they pointed out my foot issues as a sign of illness. I tried to explain that foot problems didn't qualify, but as they didn't buy it.
Well, I can look like a chump. And maybe get a day off to lay about and watch Montel.
Mel is spoiled by my father-in-law who has been taking him for walkies a few times a day for the past few days. However, the in-laws left insanely early this morning. Mel kept returning to the guest room, laying on the floor with mournful eyes, pleading for my father in-law's return. We went for walkies, but I know it just wasn't the same. Jeff, however, is delighted the invaders are gone.
To make matters perhaps less romantic, my in-laws were here and Jamie had a cold and I just had the week from hell at work. And I know this week will stink, so I was thinking about that. Plus I have an exam on Tuesday. So, yes, I was just not in the mood for roses and wine and all that.
My distaste for VD solidified around 1999 when I agreed to take Jamie to a nice little Italian place in Austin called "Romeo's". It's a date kind of place, and we were not the only ones with the idea. Keep in mind, kitchens are outlawed in private homes in Austin, and so everybody eats out all the time as it is. So on VD, all these couples were there and it was chaos and we agreed to sit outside by the gas heater thingy. After an hour and a half wait and ducking an interview with the local Fox affiliate doing a fluff piece on VD, we finally got seated. About five minutes later, the gas ran out, and we were told there was no more gas. We would have to freeze or give up our seat. So we froze and ate luke-warm food. I did get to watch a scene out of a sit-com as a weasely, somewhat grotesque little man tried to maintain the interest of his date by constantly reiterating his financial position (of which, i was quite jealous). I don't remember too many specifics, but he did a pretty good job of it, and it was kind of inspiring (note to self: as you get older and uglier, get richer...)
All in all, I was not feeling terribly romantic at the end of this fiasco.
So this year we stayed warm, ate with Jamie's folks at a local little place run by a dude named "Ziggy", and went home. Jamie says she got me something, but she says it's at her office.
I think I am getting sick, which is irritating. I have not REALLY been sick since I moved out here. Not a cold, not a flu, not a nothing. But I think I am now getting sick. My co-workers will have a good laugh at my expense as I pointed out just last week that I never get sick out here, and they pointed out my foot issues as a sign of illness. I tried to explain that foot problems didn't qualify, but as they didn't buy it.
Well, I can look like a chump. And maybe get a day off to lay about and watch Montel.
Mel is spoiled by my father-in-law who has been taking him for walkies a few times a day for the past few days. However, the in-laws left insanely early this morning. Mel kept returning to the guest room, laying on the floor with mournful eyes, pleading for my father in-law's return. We went for walkies, but I know it just wasn't the same. Jeff, however, is delighted the invaders are gone.
Jim has thrown a monkey in the works. JimD. has spawned a capital idea for a satisfying conclusion to the A Present for Randy contest, but I'm not certain how to manage his suggestion. And I certainly do not want to start handling money. The League is not insured, nor did we get past "Pre-Calc" in high school.
Anyone with a better head for figures, transactional ideas and the law should send mail to the League outlining a plan for getting Randy a wedding present.
Anyone with a better head for figures, transactional ideas and the law should send mail to the League outlining a plan for getting Randy a wedding present.
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