So, here I was thinking I had nothing to mention and today would be met with a news article or two, but voila! Star Wars.
As is well documented, The League was once a huge proponent of the Star Wars franchise. Star Wars wallpaper, Star Wars bedding, Star Wars figures lining the floor. Jamie was a bit irritated with the figures on the floor, so I started keeping them straightened on a shelf.
Star Wars was our mythology as kids. It surpassed Superfriends and Tron by a lightyear. This was the stuff we went to bed thinking about, and ran around the woods behind our house play-acting (eternal thanks to me mum, who got me an official Stormtrooper pistol for Christmas when I was 8. Best. Present. Ever.).
And it’s well documented how I saw Phantom Menace in the theater 5 times. And, sort of against my will, saw Attack of the Clones 4 times in two weeks (seeing both the opening night midnight show, and the next morning’s 9:00 am show, after which I went to work and stared mindlessly at my monitor for four hours before going home and collapsing. Thanks, Dan).
And it’s hip to say these movies suck. Because, you know what? These movie have a lot problems. They have an enormous "wow" factor, but they also have a lot of issues that adults are much more keenly aware of than kids. But maybe that’s why these movies work so well as trailers. The trailers are always amazing, culling the best parts out of context, and making you really believe that these movies are somehow going to save Western Culture, and getting you juiced up for a monumental letdown.
It’s tough to say the stories are incoherent, because that’s not really accurate. And it’s easy to say the acting is wooden, because it mostly is. The plot does suffer from a lack of expediency and occasional lapses of logic. And all too often, things occur because it would look cool, rather than because it’s a good idea or really follows internal logic.
But here’s why I'm posting on this at all, and it’s going to sound a lot like what I said about Sky Captain:
I want these movies.
Sure, I made an off the cuff comment yesterday about it being “more of the same”, which, arguably, it is. My first reaction was "oh, great. Another trailer which looks phenomenenal, but which is better than the actual film."
But more of this “same” is Star Wars “the same.” This is space opera envisioned on a scale most mortal minds can’t possibly begin to plot out and construct. Most writers and directors would NEVER try to tell a story so massive in scope, movie after movie. They would flat out tell you it was impossible to manage so many characters and so many character threads working through so many plotlines. Let alone, keeping a tangible backstory, introducing new cultures, creatures, and ideas with every change of scene. And maybe, maybe they’d be right.
I WASN'T nuts about Episode II, although I thought it was beautiful to look at, and had cool stuff. I almost got the feeling that this was the paperwork being done to set the stage for the upcoming movie. Does the new trailer look cool? Maybe, but I've lost objectivity, and I'm in a "won't get fooled again" mode. Episode II had things I loved (Slave 1 in the asteroid belt), but it had a lot of business going on that just felt like plot lines being distended.
In order to get his stories told with any efficiency, Lucas is painting with a broad brush, and I think that, more than occasionally, it leads to some missteps. I don’t particularly believe in the romantic character curve for Anakin and Padme (a case where less might have been more). I don’t particularly believe in Anakin’s curve as he becomes eeeevil (he seems like he was doing pretty much okay until his mom got whacked). But, we have another 2.5 hours of the story coming in the final installment, and a chance to tie up the threads. I can hold out hope that the character moments I’ve been longing for may yet materialize.
Since 1977 studios have been spending a lot of money trying to get another movie to capture the imagination of the public the way Star Wars did. They've been trying for the formula a million different ways, but, ultimately, it never works out. Instead, the terrain is littered with clunkers like "Last Starfighter", "Battle Beyond the Stars", "The Black Hole" and dozens of others. Until Lord of the Rings (a commodity proven a hundred times over before the latest screen adaptation) nothing else managed to place huge audiences in a world completely foreign to our own, but so easily understandable.
Short of Jack Kirby and Tolkein, I can’t think of anyone who has stepped up to the plate and even TRIED to tell a story with such wild ideas, and crazy imagination firing on all six cylinders. (A note: I thought about this after publishing, and there are countless sci-fi and fantasy novels which have done this. I'm being unfair. I could discredit the fantasy genre as just lifting from Tolkein, but that's cheesy and not true. And sci-fi continues to expand it's definition while telling sprawling, effective stories. I just really like Jack Kirby, so I'll plug him wherever I can. Don't get me started on TV epics and their need to feed the beast which led to the whimpering death of X-Files.)
Only Tolkein managed to cross-cut two or more major battle scenes at a time to create a climax this successfully (and, now, by extension, Peter Jackson). I mean, Sweet Christmas… from a technical and storytelling perspective, I can’t really think of anything more complicated than that.
The trailer gives us two warring Star Destroyers blasting away at one another in low-orbit? Droids flitting about on the surface of a volcanic planet? Tiny green space samurai getting serious?
If you told me the details of the trailer for Revenge of the Sith, and never tossed “Star Wars” into the sentence, I would be wondering where I could sign up to see this paean to sci-fi cool. I mean, throw in a monkey, and you’ve officially surpassed my criteria for paying to see a movie in the theater. What? You say there’s an army of monkey-people? I gladly surrender my eight dollars, sir.
I'm giving it a shot. Maybe not opening night this time around, but I'm giving it a shot. And I will say parts of the trailer DO look cool, but I'm not going to not be skeptical. At the end of the day, it's not just the elements which tell a story, it's how they're interwoven. This can be the coolest shoddy movie ever, or it can seal the deal as the Star Wars saga truly earning it's much hyped reputation.
Friday, November 05, 2004
Thursday, November 04, 2004
If it weren't so badly sculpted and kind of creepy looking, I think this would be a fun novelty for that whimsical Republican in your family.
Here's Super-Action-Hero W.
Here's Super-Action-Hero W.
Wednesday, November 03, 2004
I always told Jamie that when I die, I'm going to haunt her.
Well, now I've found something ten times more annoying than haunting her.
According to this article, Phoenix is now home to a company called Preserve A Life.
What does this company do? It allows you to stuff your dead relatives and keep them around the house.
This is so awesome, I'm totally at a loss for any good commentary.
Alas, this is a Halloween joke from the Phoenix New Times. Anyway, I hope it is a joke.
Here is the story (which seems like an exceptionally long article for a hoax).
And here's a web link.
Ehhh... Even if it were real, I'd probably still choose just to haunt Jamie. But there is a certain appeal to taking up couch space in the afterlife.
Well, now I've found something ten times more annoying than haunting her.
According to this article, Phoenix is now home to a company called Preserve A Life.
What does this company do? It allows you to stuff your dead relatives and keep them around the house.
This is so awesome, I'm totally at a loss for any good commentary.
Alas, this is a Halloween joke from the Phoenix New Times. Anyway, I hope it is a joke.
Here is the story (which seems like an exceptionally long article for a hoax).
And here's a web link.
Ehhh... Even if it were real, I'd probably still choose just to haunt Jamie. But there is a certain appeal to taking up couch space in the afterlife.
I guess Kerry conceded.
Quitter.
Where's my recount and lawsuits?
My sweater still smells funny, but I think it's because it's made of wool. I always think my sweaters smell funny. Yet I still wear them.
And, yes. It is actually cold enough in the mornings here to wear a sweater. I will change shirts here shortly as I may be outside for part of the afternoon.
My contacts also feel very dry today, so I've been doing this thing where I open my eyes very wide and then close them very tight, hopign to generate some extra moisture. It's not working.
I am very, very tired today.
Quitter.
Where's my recount and lawsuits?
My sweater still smells funny, but I think it's because it's made of wool. I always think my sweaters smell funny. Yet I still wear them.
And, yes. It is actually cold enough in the mornings here to wear a sweater. I will change shirts here shortly as I may be outside for part of the afternoon.
My contacts also feel very dry today, so I've been doing this thing where I open my eyes very wide and then close them very tight, hopign to generate some extra moisture. It's not working.
I am very, very tired today.
Tuesday, November 02, 2004
A little election time blogging.
Sooooooo.......... Who you votin' for?
Just kidding. It's Presidential Election Day here in the USofA. I hope you aren't reading this unless you already got up, combed your hair and moseyed down to your polling place. If you already voted, good for you. if you didn't, well... why are you reading this? Get off your bum and go vote. NOW!!!
I don't know that this is the most important election of my lifetime. I think that will come into play in 2056 when we must vote for George Bush the 5th or Zilwork Blurgg of the Crab Nebula (I am sure his/her story of being the child of immigrant aliens and his/her 450 fellow nestlings growing up in poverty in New Kentucky will be very moving).
In short, I just looked at my practice ballot, and this election is stupid. There's only one party with any power in Arizona, and thusly, only one candidate with a chance for winning. I mean, I'm going to vote because I can and because I'm glad we're not all prisoner of the whims of, say... Barbara Streisand, but, you know... as those who know better would have it, I am so far outside the mainstream that I am out of touch with middle-America. That's fine. Middle-America and I don't always see eye-to-eye (I still don't love Raymond). It just kind of makes voting in elections out here a sort of fruitless effort.
Out of 14 total partisan races going down, 5 of them have a Dem running, 4 of them have a Libertarian, and 7 are either an unopposed Republican running or two Republicans running against only each other(1). But anything can happen. We do have a Democrat in the Capital as governor, so it's a crazy world.
I also thought I'd mention that we don't vote FOR judges, we vote against them. There are no NEW judges on the ballot, just fifty (50) items which read like this:
Shall Tipsy McStagger, Judge of Superior Court Division Y be retained in office? Yes? No?
I think this is one of those areas where I'm going to have to plead ignorance, because no matter how much I cram tonight with my little newsprint booklet, there is no way I'm going to know enough to make an informed decision here. And by the time I do know enough about how any of these judges operate, I assume I will be in jail and be unable to vote, anyway.
I assume judges are appointed and then fired by the populace out here. Which, you know, has a sort of poetic-justice mob-mentality charm I can groove on.
I probably should read up on who the two candidates are who dare to run against McCain for Senator here in AZ, but it's kind of like learning the starting line-up of the Washington Generals.
All in all, I project that I'll spend about five minutes in the ballot box.
Broken down, it will look like this:
10 seconds voting for POTUS
3 minutes voting on Propositions
1 minute writing my own name in on all other elections
50 seconds standing in my booth weeping with joy that this f**king ridiculous circus of an election is over and that either Ass-Clown #1 or Ass-Clown #2 will take office and hopefully not get me killed or rob me blind or let the rest of America get killed or robbed blind. I think that's a pretty low set of expectations I've placed on Ass-Clowns #1 and #2. I'm pretty sure they're both up to the job.
While I'm at it, I'd like Ass-Clowns #1 & #2 to also try not to do so much shameful nonsense during their terms in office that what they wind-up most famous for are the series of untruths to which they committed themselves. I'd like for Ass-Clowns #1& #2 to TRY to occasionally remember that not all of us love what Ass-Clown #1 or #2 wants to do with the world, and that we don't all work for them.
And, hey... every once in a while, we'd like to not feel completely ashamed of the decisions our Ass-Clown in Chief has made, and that every single moment of every day shouldn't be about covering your own ass. If you're doing the job right, it doesn't have to be.
And, I'd like Ass-Clown #1 & #2 to remember that we, as a nation, make a ton of babies. Seriously. Everybody I know is dropping a baby. And that... maybe... Maybe President Ass-Clown should know that what they do today and tomorrow is going to seriously jack with little Arden, little Isaac, and even little Nathan Jr. The shaking the babies and kissing hands bit doesn't have anything to do with what you're going to do when the chips are down.
Let me share a secret with you, Mr.'s Ass-Clown #1 & #2...
History is going to judge you.
Really.
No matter what you do today for whatever reason, history is going to be different from the spinning of media and the lobbing of sound bites. It's going to wait and see what happens, and then it will make up its mind whether or not you dropped the ball. Sure, there'll still be pundits in all sorts of camps, but the connect-the-dots picture is going to be hard to argue. History will have nothing better to do for a few hundred years after you croak than to pry open your coffin and dig through your sock drawer for the juicy bits. All those lawyers and press secretaries and secret service guys and whatever else you're up to... it's hard to maintain when you're pushing up daisies and trying to keep the centipedes off your nose.
Hindsight is 20/20. By what shakes out, by what happens eventually, that's how you'll be remembered. Nobody ever went into the White House with anything but the best of intentions. Nobody ever went in trying to leave the country weaker or poorer. Nobody ever went in wanting to leave the place worse off than when they arrived. History won't care what you said, but it will care what happened under your watch. It won't care about platitudes or espoused ideology, but it will care where we were four years after you started.
Now, why did you want that job again?
Sooooooo.......... Who you votin' for?
Just kidding. It's Presidential Election Day here in the USofA. I hope you aren't reading this unless you already got up, combed your hair and moseyed down to your polling place. If you already voted, good for you. if you didn't, well... why are you reading this? Get off your bum and go vote. NOW!!!
I don't know that this is the most important election of my lifetime. I think that will come into play in 2056 when we must vote for George Bush the 5th or Zilwork Blurgg of the Crab Nebula (I am sure his/her story of being the child of immigrant aliens and his/her 450 fellow nestlings growing up in poverty in New Kentucky will be very moving).
In short, I just looked at my practice ballot, and this election is stupid. There's only one party with any power in Arizona, and thusly, only one candidate with a chance for winning. I mean, I'm going to vote because I can and because I'm glad we're not all prisoner of the whims of, say... Barbara Streisand, but, you know... as those who know better would have it, I am so far outside the mainstream that I am out of touch with middle-America. That's fine. Middle-America and I don't always see eye-to-eye (I still don't love Raymond). It just kind of makes voting in elections out here a sort of fruitless effort.
Out of 14 total partisan races going down, 5 of them have a Dem running, 4 of them have a Libertarian, and 7 are either an unopposed Republican running or two Republicans running against only each other(1). But anything can happen. We do have a Democrat in the Capital as governor, so it's a crazy world.
I also thought I'd mention that we don't vote FOR judges, we vote against them. There are no NEW judges on the ballot, just fifty (50) items which read like this:
Shall Tipsy McStagger, Judge of Superior Court Division Y be retained in office? Yes? No?
I think this is one of those areas where I'm going to have to plead ignorance, because no matter how much I cram tonight with my little newsprint booklet, there is no way I'm going to know enough to make an informed decision here. And by the time I do know enough about how any of these judges operate, I assume I will be in jail and be unable to vote, anyway.
I assume judges are appointed and then fired by the populace out here. Which, you know, has a sort of poetic-justice mob-mentality charm I can groove on.
I probably should read up on who the two candidates are who dare to run against McCain for Senator here in AZ, but it's kind of like learning the starting line-up of the Washington Generals.
All in all, I project that I'll spend about five minutes in the ballot box.
Broken down, it will look like this:
10 seconds voting for POTUS
3 minutes voting on Propositions
1 minute writing my own name in on all other elections
50 seconds standing in my booth weeping with joy that this f**king ridiculous circus of an election is over and that either Ass-Clown #1 or Ass-Clown #2 will take office and hopefully not get me killed or rob me blind or let the rest of America get killed or robbed blind. I think that's a pretty low set of expectations I've placed on Ass-Clowns #1 and #2. I'm pretty sure they're both up to the job.
While I'm at it, I'd like Ass-Clowns #1 & #2 to also try not to do so much shameful nonsense during their terms in office that what they wind-up most famous for are the series of untruths to which they committed themselves. I'd like for Ass-Clowns #1& #2 to TRY to occasionally remember that not all of us love what Ass-Clown #1 or #2 wants to do with the world, and that we don't all work for them.
And, hey... every once in a while, we'd like to not feel completely ashamed of the decisions our Ass-Clown in Chief has made, and that every single moment of every day shouldn't be about covering your own ass. If you're doing the job right, it doesn't have to be.
And, I'd like Ass-Clown #1 & #2 to remember that we, as a nation, make a ton of babies. Seriously. Everybody I know is dropping a baby. And that... maybe... Maybe President Ass-Clown should know that what they do today and tomorrow is going to seriously jack with little Arden, little Isaac, and even little Nathan Jr. The shaking the babies and kissing hands bit doesn't have anything to do with what you're going to do when the chips are down.
Let me share a secret with you, Mr.'s Ass-Clown #1 & #2...
History is going to judge you.
Really.
No matter what you do today for whatever reason, history is going to be different from the spinning of media and the lobbing of sound bites. It's going to wait and see what happens, and then it will make up its mind whether or not you dropped the ball. Sure, there'll still be pundits in all sorts of camps, but the connect-the-dots picture is going to be hard to argue. History will have nothing better to do for a few hundred years after you croak than to pry open your coffin and dig through your sock drawer for the juicy bits. All those lawyers and press secretaries and secret service guys and whatever else you're up to... it's hard to maintain when you're pushing up daisies and trying to keep the centipedes off your nose.
Hindsight is 20/20. By what shakes out, by what happens eventually, that's how you'll be remembered. Nobody ever went into the White House with anything but the best of intentions. Nobody ever went in trying to leave the country weaker or poorer. Nobody ever went in wanting to leave the place worse off than when they arrived. History won't care what you said, but it will care what happened under your watch. It won't care about platitudes or espoused ideology, but it will care where we were four years after you started.
Now, why did you want that job again?
Monday, November 01, 2004
So, Loyal Leaguer Madi H. has hit us up with a proposal and a dilemma. Leaguers, it sounds like the League is finally going to do what it set out to do: Answer the questions which plague you.
- 
= ?
Madi's request came in this'a'way.
I want to post a poll on your blog. Specifically I would like any opinions on the following scenario: If a guy asks a woman out and does not pay, should she never go with him again, or give him another chance?
My brother, who is a notoriously cheap bastard, had this to say:
She should ditch him. He is either:
a) rude
b) clueless
Either one is not a good sign.
And I'm prone to agree! But, I recall a conversation I had with some co-ed classmates of mine in college who stated that: if a guy tried to pay, he was insinuating some control over the relationship already, and they would immediately ditch the poor sucker.
I pointed out that they were probably missing out on a lot of decent guys who feel it is polite to pay for someone else's good time when you request their company.
So, what is it, Leaguers? Pay, no pay? Should Madi forego love because the guy is a miser? What if he's just too progressive for his own good? What if he realized all too late he only had a 10-spot on him?
Having been with Mrs. League for the better part of a decade, I have no idea what the rules of dating are these days, and I certainly can't speak on how to maneuver out there in the post-college world. But I watch a lot of TV, and I think I know how these things work.
Anyway, pipe up and help a Leaguer out. Tell Madi what you think.
- = ?
Madi's request came in this'a'way.
I want to post a poll on your blog. Specifically I would like any opinions on the following scenario: If a guy asks a woman out and does not pay, should she never go with him again, or give him another chance?
My brother, who is a notoriously cheap bastard, had this to say:
She should ditch him. He is either:
a) rude
b) clueless
Either one is not a good sign.
And I'm prone to agree! But, I recall a conversation I had with some co-ed classmates of mine in college who stated that: if a guy tried to pay, he was insinuating some control over the relationship already, and they would immediately ditch the poor sucker.
I pointed out that they were probably missing out on a lot of decent guys who feel it is polite to pay for someone else's good time when you request their company.
So, what is it, Leaguers? Pay, no pay? Should Madi forego love because the guy is a miser? What if he's just too progressive for his own good? What if he realized all too late he only had a 10-spot on him?
Having been with Mrs. League for the better part of a decade, I have no idea what the rules of dating are these days, and I certainly can't speak on how to maneuver out there in the post-college world. But I watch a lot of TV, and I think I know how these things work.
Anyway, pipe up and help a Leaguer out. Tell Madi what you think.
Sunday, October 31, 2004
Halloween Report:
Hello all.
I was Fat Green Lantern for Halloween. Upon reviewing photos of myself for this year's costume, next year I will stick with fat Elvis or Fat Albert or Fatty McFatterson. Or, the wife of Jack Sprat.
Anyway, here are some nice photos.
Jamie carved a delightful Kitty Pumpkin. Little girls were especially fond of this one.
I carved this pumpkin. It ended up looking like Stan's clone go wrong from the first season of South Park. It's a happy coincidence and I'm proud of my mutant creation.
Here is a rough idea of what our house looked like. We were going to sit on a beach towel, but this turned out to be a real hassle as kids kept expecting for us to get up to give them candy.
Here is Jamie in her bee costume. She takes a nice picture, that bee does.
Here is a pic of your blogger (who has never before published his own photo to the site, I might add), hanging with Mel. I am the one with the power ring.
I am happy to say we had dozens of visitors, all of whom were very sweet. We had one Superman, one Batman, about five Spider-Mans and a herd of ninjas, ghouls, witches, and Britney Federlines. Also, I am delighted to say many, many people identified me as GL, both parents and kids alike. I think the lady across the street thought I was sporting some demonic symbol until I told her I was "one of the Superfriends".
Hope you all had a Happy Halloween.
Now, it's Turkey Time.
Hello all.
I was Fat Green Lantern for Halloween. Upon reviewing photos of myself for this year's costume, next year I will stick with fat Elvis or Fat Albert or Fatty McFatterson. Or, the wife of Jack Sprat.
Anyway, here are some nice photos.
Jamie carved a delightful Kitty Pumpkin. Little girls were especially fond of this one.
I carved this pumpkin. It ended up looking like Stan's clone go wrong from the first season of South Park. It's a happy coincidence and I'm proud of my mutant creation.
Here is a rough idea of what our house looked like. We were going to sit on a beach towel, but this turned out to be a real hassle as kids kept expecting for us to get up to give them candy.
Here is Jamie in her bee costume. She takes a nice picture, that bee does.
Here is a pic of your blogger (who has never before published his own photo to the site, I might add), hanging with Mel. I am the one with the power ring.
I am happy to say we had dozens of visitors, all of whom were very sweet. We had one Superman, one Batman, about five Spider-Mans and a herd of ninjas, ghouls, witches, and Britney Federlines. Also, I am delighted to say many, many people identified me as GL, both parents and kids alike. I think the lady across the street thought I was sporting some demonic symbol until I told her I was "one of the Superfriends".
Hope you all had a Happy Halloween.
Now, it's Turkey Time.
Friday, October 29, 2004
And a week that came in with Ashlee Simpson shall go out the same way...
Check out this photoshop contest.
thanks to Jim D. for bookending my week!
Check out this photoshop contest.
thanks to Jim D. for bookending my week!
Our grand Prize Winner: Madalina Hinjosa, for telling a story both frightening and stomach churning
Halloween Spooky Stories: DAY 5, PART 2
The Taco Bell Tolls For Thee
At first glance, there's nothing Halloweenish about this story- it's
set in Hawaii on a beautiful summer's evening. But my magical evening would be turned upside down in an instant of pure horror.
Before I went to Hawaii, I was told of the abundant delicious food I would sample everywhere I went. My mouth watered imagining fresh mangos, pineapple and coconuts. However, when I arrived I found that everything is hella expensive in Hawaii. Since I preferred to spend my money on souvenirs, I carefully rationed out grocery store fare and starved my way through the days. (I have to confess, I did toss a couple of baloney slices off the balcony to feed the feral cats that lived at the hotel). No worries, though; I was in Hawaii after all.
One night, I picked up a plate of nachos at a Mexican fast-food restaurant
on the island. I only ate a little, since they weren't very good.
Nevertheless I was unwilling to throw a morsel away. I put the leftovers in the trunk of the rental car so that I could get back to the shops nacho-free.
Later that evening, I opened the trunk and picked up the container AND COCKROACHES CAME POURING OUT!
Halloween Spooky Stories: DAY 5, PART 2
by Madi
The Taco Bell Tolls For Thee
At first glance, there's nothing Halloweenish about this story- it's
set in Hawaii on a beautiful summer's evening. But my magical evening would be turned upside down in an instant of pure horror.
Before I went to Hawaii, I was told of the abundant delicious food I would sample everywhere I went. My mouth watered imagining fresh mangos, pineapple and coconuts. However, when I arrived I found that everything is hella expensive in Hawaii. Since I preferred to spend my money on souvenirs, I carefully rationed out grocery store fare and starved my way through the days. (I have to confess, I did toss a couple of baloney slices off the balcony to feed the feral cats that lived at the hotel). No worries, though; I was in Hawaii after all.
One night, I picked up a plate of nachos at a Mexican fast-food restaurant
on the island. I only ate a little, since they weren't very good.
Nevertheless I was unwilling to throw a morsel away. I put the leftovers in the trunk of the rental car so that I could get back to the shops nacho-free.
Later that evening, I opened the trunk and picked up the container AND COCKROACHES CAME POURING OUT!
HALLOWEEN SPOOKTACULAR STORIES
DAY 5
Editor's Note: Jason (The League's older and less handsome brother)sent in two entries. The first one is posted last, the second one is posted first is descending scariness.
First Stories
My current home in south Austin once belonged to an elderly lady who bestowed it upon her grandaughter in her will. When I was closing on the house at my realtor's office, we had a quiet moment during which I attempted to make some small talk with the woman selling the house.
"So, is there anything I should know about the house that no one's told me?"
I was kind of thinking of plumbing problems or faulty electrical work.
"Well, it's haunted."
"Uh, what?"
"My grandmother used to live there and she died in that house. She's a friendly ghost, but she likes to open and close things and make noises. We're trying to take her with us when we move, but we're not sure she'll go."
"Uh...."
"Oh, it's ok. She'll leave you alone as long as there are good vibes in the house."
"Ooookay."
I've been there almost a year and a half, and so far, no sign of Grandma. Friendly ghost or not, I think I'm kind of glad. Still, I try to keep things positive at mi casa in order to avoid hassles from Grannie.
I had more problems at my last place. To my knowledge, my apartment at the edge of Travis Heights had never suffered the death of a resident or any other calamity, but as with most apartments, the place had an anonymous history that could seem a little creepy in its own right. Especially because weird stuff would happen there.
On at least 3 occasions, as I was lying in bed and trying to get to sleep, I would swear I heard my name spoken aloud, not in a shout or a whisper, but in a quiet speaking voice. The first two times this happened, I lept out of bed and ran around the apartment with my lacrosse stick in my hand, turning on all the lights. No one was ever there.
The third time this happened, I just pulled my pillow up over my head and tried to get to sleep. I was roused from bed a few minutes later by the sound of Calvin and Hobbes, my 2 pet ferrets, going crazy in their cage. I crept into the other room, and something big and black swooped down at my head. I screamed like a little girl, and grabbing a wine bottle, turned on the kitchen lights.
In the vaulted upper corner of my living room, a large black grackle sat perched on a picture frame and staring down at me with it's little black eyes. It screeched and I screamed again.
I opened the front and the patio doors, and it cirlcled the room a few times, screeching some more and flapping before flying out.
I checked the fireplace, but the flue was closed and the firescreen shut. To this day, I have never figured out the deal with the voice or the bird. Tripped my gourd, though, let me assure you.
Second Story
Hey. I know some scary stories. Remember that time we were watching The Exorcist at like 3 a.m. and it was thundering and lightning outside and you went to look out the window because you thought you heard a noise and you saw your own reflection and you screamed like a little girl and you stumbled backward over Mom's lamp? Oh wait. That's more of a funny story.
How about the time you emailed me a photo of your ass? That was scary.
In all seriousness, I do have one. Eric, lead guitarist and vocalist for the Mono Ensemble, has a harrowing tale passed on by his wife, Stephanie. One rainy night in Austin, Stephanie woke from sleep believing that she had heard some kind of strange noise in their kitchen. She tried to wake Eric, to no avail, and she went to investigate herself. Finding nothing in the kitchen, she assumed that one of their pet cats had made the commotion and she went to the refrigerator to get herself a drink. Standing in the dark, the only light in the room cast by the light of the ice box, she heard a noise and turned to see a young, pale boy with hollow eyes and a white shirt standing by her counter. She screamed and turned to look as Eric came running into the kichen to see what was the matter. The kid was no longer there and Eric was left standing in the kitchen looking on, bewildered.
Stephanie learned the next day that a teenage kid who ran with some of their family friends had OD'ed the night before and died after breaking into a veterinary clinic to steal tranquilizers. The kid had died in his family's kitchen and had been wearing a white, button-down shirt.
DAY 5
Editor's Note: Jason (The League's older and less handsome brother)sent in two entries. The first one is posted last, the second one is posted first is descending scariness.
First Stories
My current home in south Austin once belonged to an elderly lady who bestowed it upon her grandaughter in her will. When I was closing on the house at my realtor's office, we had a quiet moment during which I attempted to make some small talk with the woman selling the house.
"So, is there anything I should know about the house that no one's told me?"
I was kind of thinking of plumbing problems or faulty electrical work.
"Well, it's haunted."
"Uh, what?"
"My grandmother used to live there and she died in that house. She's a friendly ghost, but she likes to open and close things and make noises. We're trying to take her with us when we move, but we're not sure she'll go."
"Uh...."
"Oh, it's ok. She'll leave you alone as long as there are good vibes in the house."
"Ooookay."
I've been there almost a year and a half, and so far, no sign of Grandma. Friendly ghost or not, I think I'm kind of glad. Still, I try to keep things positive at mi casa in order to avoid hassles from Grannie.
I had more problems at my last place. To my knowledge, my apartment at the edge of Travis Heights had never suffered the death of a resident or any other calamity, but as with most apartments, the place had an anonymous history that could seem a little creepy in its own right. Especially because weird stuff would happen there.
On at least 3 occasions, as I was lying in bed and trying to get to sleep, I would swear I heard my name spoken aloud, not in a shout or a whisper, but in a quiet speaking voice. The first two times this happened, I lept out of bed and ran around the apartment with my lacrosse stick in my hand, turning on all the lights. No one was ever there.
The third time this happened, I just pulled my pillow up over my head and tried to get to sleep. I was roused from bed a few minutes later by the sound of Calvin and Hobbes, my 2 pet ferrets, going crazy in their cage. I crept into the other room, and something big and black swooped down at my head. I screamed like a little girl, and grabbing a wine bottle, turned on the kitchen lights.
In the vaulted upper corner of my living room, a large black grackle sat perched on a picture frame and staring down at me with it's little black eyes. It screeched and I screamed again.
I opened the front and the patio doors, and it cirlcled the room a few times, screeching some more and flapping before flying out.
I checked the fireplace, but the flue was closed and the firescreen shut. To this day, I have never figured out the deal with the voice or the bird. Tripped my gourd, though, let me assure you.
Second Story
Hey. I know some scary stories. Remember that time we were watching The Exorcist at like 3 a.m. and it was thundering and lightning outside and you went to look out the window because you thought you heard a noise and you saw your own reflection and you screamed like a little girl and you stumbled backward over Mom's lamp? Oh wait. That's more of a funny story.
How about the time you emailed me a photo of your ass? That was scary.
In all seriousness, I do have one. Eric, lead guitarist and vocalist for the Mono Ensemble, has a harrowing tale passed on by his wife, Stephanie. One rainy night in Austin, Stephanie woke from sleep believing that she had heard some kind of strange noise in their kitchen. She tried to wake Eric, to no avail, and she went to investigate herself. Finding nothing in the kitchen, she assumed that one of their pet cats had made the commotion and she went to the refrigerator to get herself a drink. Standing in the dark, the only light in the room cast by the light of the ice box, she heard a noise and turned to see a young, pale boy with hollow eyes and a white shirt standing by her counter. She screamed and turned to look as Eric came running into the kichen to see what was the matter. The kid was no longer there and Eric was left standing in the kitchen looking on, bewildered.
Stephanie learned the next day that a teenage kid who ran with some of their family friends had OD'ed the night before and died after breaking into a veterinary clinic to steal tranquilizers. The kid had died in his family's kitchen and had been wearing a white, button-down shirt.
Thursday, October 28, 2004
A while back, Jim D threatened to send me a crate of comics in the mail. I had begged him not to send anything as League HQ is even now working out an emergency plan to liquidate old comics which we know we will never read again (anyone want a run of Uncanny X-men from issue 160 - 300?). But th nonetheless, the box arrived last evening, and is filled with interesting stuff. The comics he sent along are a fascinating assortment, and all very new, so I'm surprised he wanted to dump them so quickly.
Most satisfying (and the only issue I had time to read) was that he'd sent along Astonishing X-Men in which Colossus returns.
Leaguers, I fairly much quit reading X-Men when they killed Colossus about six years ago, and if it weren't for the acid-trip, pop insanity of Grant Morrison's New X-Men (which managed to feel more like speculative fiction/ sci-fi than the usual soapy melodrama of the X-titles), I'd have never have picked up another issue. Well, now my favorite Russian comic character is back, and I have the issue to prove it. But this is Marvel comics, so it's entirely possible that Colossus is a clone or an alien replicant or something. But, I'm giving Petey the benefit of the doubt.
Anyway, thanks for mailing me what might have amounted to your garbage, old chum! You sent some great stuff along!
And in the: You can't make anybody happy category, the new batsuit for the Christian Bale starring Batman Begins is now being ridiculed by Batfans everywhere.
You know what, comic fans? Gray tights with blue underwear on the outside probably ISN'T the most effective crime fighting ensemble, so I'm not REALLY sure you're moaning about.
Anyway, here's the suit.
There are a lot of complaints that it's no better than the previous Batsuits, but I'm not sure there was really anything WRONG with the previous batsuits. Maybe the guys inside the suits, and the movies around the suit... and, sure... I'd have loved to have seen Batman in a gray body suit... but I also understand what looks good in comics might not look so good on film.
Let the debate begin! And, no bat-nipple comments. THose were already well-covered by the comic nerds.
Most satisfying (and the only issue I had time to read) was that he'd sent along Astonishing X-Men in which Colossus returns.
Leaguers, I fairly much quit reading X-Men when they killed Colossus about six years ago, and if it weren't for the acid-trip, pop insanity of Grant Morrison's New X-Men (which managed to feel more like speculative fiction/ sci-fi than the usual soapy melodrama of the X-titles), I'd have never have picked up another issue. Well, now my favorite Russian comic character is back, and I have the issue to prove it. But this is Marvel comics, so it's entirely possible that Colossus is a clone or an alien replicant or something. But, I'm giving Petey the benefit of the doubt.
Anyway, thanks for mailing me what might have amounted to your garbage, old chum! You sent some great stuff along!
And in the: You can't make anybody happy category, the new batsuit for the Christian Bale starring Batman Begins is now being ridiculed by Batfans everywhere.
You know what, comic fans? Gray tights with blue underwear on the outside probably ISN'T the most effective crime fighting ensemble, so I'm not REALLY sure you're moaning about.
Anyway, here's the suit.
There are a lot of complaints that it's no better than the previous Batsuits, but I'm not sure there was really anything WRONG with the previous batsuits. Maybe the guys inside the suits, and the movies around the suit... and, sure... I'd have loved to have seen Batman in a gray body suit... but I also understand what looks good in comics might not look so good on film.
Let the debate begin! And, no bat-nipple comments. THose were already well-covered by the comic nerds.
Halloween Spookiness with The League: Day 4
by The League
In 2000 or so I literally saw an unidentified flying object. The guy I was with also saw it, but we wrote it off as a weather balloon.
But hauntings? Nah. Not really. When I was in second grade we thought a house which was for sale in the neighborhood was haunted. Back then, we would sneak into empty houses before they sold (yeah, even in Houston in Cypresswood back in the 80’s, not everyone locked every door), trudge around, and sneak out. We had rules about not doing any damage, and so we never got caught.
And I don’t know if someone saw something, or we heard something or what… but we knew something was in there. A week later we learned that there was a raccoon in the house which attacked a realtor. Which is funny, but not scary. And we’re all lucky we didn’t wind up with rabies.
After we moved from Houston to Austin, it was reported my dad (who was and is still alive) was appearing as an apparition in the kitchen of our former home. I’m a skeptic of this particular haunting. While we lived in that house, I don’t remember Dad ever appearing in the kitchen except to get a piece of cheese out of the fridge. No, if Dad was going to haunt something back then, it would have been the recliner. They would have seen a ghostly newspaper floating in the air, occasionally telling them to pipe down and clean up their Legos.
After that, I don’t remember much in the way of ghosts popping up in my life. Justin L. told me his front room was haunted by the ghost of a lady who had died there. Apparently she used to run her hands over her jewelry in a porcelain dish beside her bed. At night, he said, you could hear the sound of metal on porcelain, clinking around in the front room.
In college, like 3000 of my closest friends, I moved into Jester dormitory, the 14 story monstrosity designed by a former prison architect. Not long after moving in, I realized that Jester was/ is, in fact, alive. And it was trying to kill me.
Anyone who lived in Jester knows that the building is enormous. Just my tower was 14 floors of more than 90 residents per floor. Not to mention classrooms, a cafeteria, a creepy basement, study lounges, piano lounges…. The building has stood for only a few decades, but I think, and this is my theory, but I think that so much STUFF happens in Jester, that all of that… stuff… leaves a sort of residue. The building has come to expect the overworked, overstressed, oversexed, sleep deprived, emotionally distended lives of 18-20 year olds for so long that… you know… when the building sits empty like it did over OU weekend, that being alone in a building you can hear breathing…
Sounds would materialize and dissipate, occasionally you’d see someone you didn’t know pass by in the hallway and stick your head out and they’d be gone…. All easy enough to understand, I suppose.
And at 4:00am, I wandered out into the elevator lobby, hearing a strange, persistent sound, metal on metal… the elevator doors standing ajar, the elevator a floor below, and when I stuck my head down the shaft to see what was going on, the elevator suddenly plummeted in free fall, the doors to the shaft closing almost upon my head.
And then one night when everyone has left for Dallas for the big game or gone home, or has ditched for the weekend, you’re looking down the hallway, and you’re shouting “Is anyone else here?” because you think you hear music, but you can’t tell from where, but nobody answers. And there’s something in the hallway, and it’s already upon you, and it’s not that it’s creeping up on you, because now it’s surrounding you and seems to almost be giving off a tangible hum, and its density is growing, and…
Danny isn’t here Mrs. Torrence…
Aside from that, I don’t have any real ghost stories. I got attacked by the Creature from the Black Lagoon once, but that was more irritating than scary.
by The League
In 2000 or so I literally saw an unidentified flying object. The guy I was with also saw it, but we wrote it off as a weather balloon.
But hauntings? Nah. Not really. When I was in second grade we thought a house which was for sale in the neighborhood was haunted. Back then, we would sneak into empty houses before they sold (yeah, even in Houston in Cypresswood back in the 80’s, not everyone locked every door), trudge around, and sneak out. We had rules about not doing any damage, and so we never got caught.
And I don’t know if someone saw something, or we heard something or what… but we knew something was in there. A week later we learned that there was a raccoon in the house which attacked a realtor. Which is funny, but not scary. And we’re all lucky we didn’t wind up with rabies.
After we moved from Houston to Austin, it was reported my dad (who was and is still alive) was appearing as an apparition in the kitchen of our former home. I’m a skeptic of this particular haunting. While we lived in that house, I don’t remember Dad ever appearing in the kitchen except to get a piece of cheese out of the fridge. No, if Dad was going to haunt something back then, it would have been the recliner. They would have seen a ghostly newspaper floating in the air, occasionally telling them to pipe down and clean up their Legos.
After that, I don’t remember much in the way of ghosts popping up in my life. Justin L. told me his front room was haunted by the ghost of a lady who had died there. Apparently she used to run her hands over her jewelry in a porcelain dish beside her bed. At night, he said, you could hear the sound of metal on porcelain, clinking around in the front room.
In college, like 3000 of my closest friends, I moved into Jester dormitory, the 14 story monstrosity designed by a former prison architect. Not long after moving in, I realized that Jester was/ is, in fact, alive. And it was trying to kill me.
Anyone who lived in Jester knows that the building is enormous. Just my tower was 14 floors of more than 90 residents per floor. Not to mention classrooms, a cafeteria, a creepy basement, study lounges, piano lounges…. The building has stood for only a few decades, but I think, and this is my theory, but I think that so much STUFF happens in Jester, that all of that… stuff… leaves a sort of residue. The building has come to expect the overworked, overstressed, oversexed, sleep deprived, emotionally distended lives of 18-20 year olds for so long that… you know… when the building sits empty like it did over OU weekend, that being alone in a building you can hear breathing…
Sounds would materialize and dissipate, occasionally you’d see someone you didn’t know pass by in the hallway and stick your head out and they’d be gone…. All easy enough to understand, I suppose.
And at 4:00am, I wandered out into the elevator lobby, hearing a strange, persistent sound, metal on metal… the elevator doors standing ajar, the elevator a floor below, and when I stuck my head down the shaft to see what was going on, the elevator suddenly plummeted in free fall, the doors to the shaft closing almost upon my head.
And then one night when everyone has left for Dallas for the big game or gone home, or has ditched for the weekend, you’re looking down the hallway, and you’re shouting “Is anyone else here?” because you think you hear music, but you can’t tell from where, but nobody answers. And there’s something in the hallway, and it’s already upon you, and it’s not that it’s creeping up on you, because now it’s surrounding you and seems to almost be giving off a tangible hum, and its density is growing, and…
Danny isn’t here Mrs. Torrence…
Aside from that, I don’t have any real ghost stories. I got attacked by the Creature from the Black Lagoon once, but that was more irritating than scary.
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