Tuesday, August 01, 2006
Monday, July 31, 2006
Pop Culture Hoo-Hah
So, Heath Ledger is the new Joker in the upcoming Batman film, "The Dark Knight".
Okay. I don't find Heath Ledger to be an inspired choice.... but I do think he'll be good. When you have Crispin Glover out there, how can you not cast the man?
Well, congrats to Heath. I hope he makes a big bag of money.
There are rumors afloat about DA Harvey Dent appearing in the movie, and maybe Oswald Cobblepot. Could be a lot of fun. I look forward to seeing if they re-engineer the Batmobile.
So... Mel Gibson. Well done.
There's a new Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles movie coming. It's entirely CG. I dunno... how many fights with the Shredder am I willing to pay to see? I guess what's great for Mirage Studios and creepy for me is that TMNT has officially become a generational thing. In theory, The League could have kids now, and I would probably take those kids to see TMNT in the theater, just as Peabo and I once went to see TMNT in the theater. Shut up. You saw it, too. I wonder what my TMNT comics are worth? Probably nothing.
San Diego based Comic-Con International has once again come and gone, and once again, The League was not in attendance. One day I will go. Jamie said even she wants to go, but I am uncertain as to why... and I'll be honest: it would probably good for her to be there so I don't go crazy and buy an entire run of "DC Presents" or "Superman Family" or something.
I think it's kind of neat/sad that people dress up to go to Conventions. I'm always astounded at the photos of folks in fairly expensive recreations of some of their favorite heroes' costumes. Now, I can't imagine myself actually putting in the effort to show up dressed anywhere as, say, Red Tornado. Nor can I imagine getting from the hotel to the convention center without feeling like a total heel, but somehow these folks do it.
I am both curious and horrified by the idea of an open Q&A with comic creators. I know what sort of dweebs populate the shop I hit weekly (me, chief among them), so the endless line of awkward, uncomfortable questioning might be too much for me to bear.
Today, supposedly, marks the 25th anniversary of MTV. That's 25 years of MTV slowly lowering the bar on the music industry while simultaneously increasing every 13-year-olds' sense of entitlement. I do not want, nor watch, any MTV. I am not in their demographic, and really haven't been since I was 20, so I doubt they're losing much sleep over my choice to flip past their programming.
My favorite aspect of MTV is that every two years they promise that either MTV or MTV2 will be getting back to basics and begin showing videos in regular rotation once again. This lasts about two weeks, and then they're back to 12-year old re-runs of Beavis and Butthead when they realize that nobody has the patience to sit and watch a 3 minute video.
I miss the VJ/ video format. The bad hair. The skin-tight pants and the knowledge that THIS video might suck, but they're showing "Thriller" at the half-hour mark. For reasons better left to being dwelt upon by marketing executives, I associate Billy Idol with my early MTV experience. Yes, yes... Michael Jackson, too... but I loved Billy Idol's White Wedding video and the whole slew of videos that came out in that era.
My local theater believes I am 16, and apparently, so does Motorola. My local theater likes to play lots of commercials prior to the previews. Hip, edgy previews with young, sexy people in an urban setting at night just enjoying their ring-tones like all heck. I've not spent any time in NYC, but do young New Yorkers really stand on the street in nice clothes dancing around to their ring tones? Is that really what life in the Big Apple has been reduced to?
Nor do I understand the "ring back tone". Why would I want to listen to 10 seconds of some song while I'm waiting for you? Sometimes just because you can doesn't mean you should.
I am also confused by the commercials for the Scion line of automobiles. The commercials promise an endless bit of customization, but the web-site doesn't actually seem to offer up that anything but the blue and gray Scions you see driving around.
I'm more or less over the advertising at the theaters. It's inevitable and I can't vote with my feet when all of the theaters show ads. But what I do think is that advertisers need to think about two things as they make the transition from TV to theaters:
1) It's one thing when your TV is flickering at you with a cut every 1/3rd second. When the 40 foot light source in front of you is flickering like a strobe, that's a migraine waiting to happen. Some things don't work as well on the big screen.
2) Either make ads your entire range of audience can actually watch or don't bother. I have never seen a more confused audience than the crowd of senior citizens in attendance at "A Prairie Home Companion" when the recent Sprite (or is it 7-Up?) ads ran, with sumos and volkswagens crashing into one another, tiny lemon and lime sprites flitting about and a man with mouths for eyes. All in about 45 seconds.
Yes. Hip. Edgy. And terrifying to the sweet old ladies sitting next to me.
Nor do I feel comfortable seeing ads for "Bod" body spray (which promises no end to the number of the ladies offering you their services, should you use their spray) in the minutes ticking down to the opening of a Harry Potter movie while surrounded by excited little moppets.
At least TV knows who I am and advertises accordingly. Sometimes.
So, Heath Ledger is the new Joker in the upcoming Batman film, "The Dark Knight".
Okay. I don't find Heath Ledger to be an inspired choice.... but I do think he'll be good. When you have Crispin Glover out there, how can you not cast the man?
Well, congrats to Heath. I hope he makes a big bag of money.
There are rumors afloat about DA Harvey Dent appearing in the movie, and maybe Oswald Cobblepot. Could be a lot of fun. I look forward to seeing if they re-engineer the Batmobile.
So... Mel Gibson. Well done.
There's a new Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles movie coming. It's entirely CG. I dunno... how many fights with the Shredder am I willing to pay to see? I guess what's great for Mirage Studios and creepy for me is that TMNT has officially become a generational thing. In theory, The League could have kids now, and I would probably take those kids to see TMNT in the theater, just as Peabo and I once went to see TMNT in the theater. Shut up. You saw it, too. I wonder what my TMNT comics are worth? Probably nothing.
San Diego based Comic-Con International has once again come and gone, and once again, The League was not in attendance. One day I will go. Jamie said even she wants to go, but I am uncertain as to why... and I'll be honest: it would probably good for her to be there so I don't go crazy and buy an entire run of "DC Presents" or "Superman Family" or something.
I think it's kind of neat/sad that people dress up to go to Conventions. I'm always astounded at the photos of folks in fairly expensive recreations of some of their favorite heroes' costumes. Now, I can't imagine myself actually putting in the effort to show up dressed anywhere as, say, Red Tornado. Nor can I imagine getting from the hotel to the convention center without feeling like a total heel, but somehow these folks do it.
I am both curious and horrified by the idea of an open Q&A with comic creators. I know what sort of dweebs populate the shop I hit weekly (me, chief among them), so the endless line of awkward, uncomfortable questioning might be too much for me to bear.
Today, supposedly, marks the 25th anniversary of MTV. That's 25 years of MTV slowly lowering the bar on the music industry while simultaneously increasing every 13-year-olds' sense of entitlement. I do not want, nor watch, any MTV. I am not in their demographic, and really haven't been since I was 20, so I doubt they're losing much sleep over my choice to flip past their programming.
My favorite aspect of MTV is that every two years they promise that either MTV or MTV2 will be getting back to basics and begin showing videos in regular rotation once again. This lasts about two weeks, and then they're back to 12-year old re-runs of Beavis and Butthead when they realize that nobody has the patience to sit and watch a 3 minute video.
I miss the VJ/ video format. The bad hair. The skin-tight pants and the knowledge that THIS video might suck, but they're showing "Thriller" at the half-hour mark. For reasons better left to being dwelt upon by marketing executives, I associate Billy Idol with my early MTV experience. Yes, yes... Michael Jackson, too... but I loved Billy Idol's White Wedding video and the whole slew of videos that came out in that era.
My local theater believes I am 16, and apparently, so does Motorola. My local theater likes to play lots of commercials prior to the previews. Hip, edgy previews with young, sexy people in an urban setting at night just enjoying their ring-tones like all heck. I've not spent any time in NYC, but do young New Yorkers really stand on the street in nice clothes dancing around to their ring tones? Is that really what life in the Big Apple has been reduced to?
Nor do I understand the "ring back tone". Why would I want to listen to 10 seconds of some song while I'm waiting for you? Sometimes just because you can doesn't mean you should.
I am also confused by the commercials for the Scion line of automobiles. The commercials promise an endless bit of customization, but the web-site doesn't actually seem to offer up that anything but the blue and gray Scions you see driving around.
I'm more or less over the advertising at the theaters. It's inevitable and I can't vote with my feet when all of the theaters show ads. But what I do think is that advertisers need to think about two things as they make the transition from TV to theaters:
1) It's one thing when your TV is flickering at you with a cut every 1/3rd second. When the 40 foot light source in front of you is flickering like a strobe, that's a migraine waiting to happen. Some things don't work as well on the big screen.
2) Either make ads your entire range of audience can actually watch or don't bother. I have never seen a more confused audience than the crowd of senior citizens in attendance at "A Prairie Home Companion" when the recent Sprite (or is it 7-Up?) ads ran, with sumos and volkswagens crashing into one another, tiny lemon and lime sprites flitting about and a man with mouths for eyes. All in about 45 seconds.
Yes. Hip. Edgy. And terrifying to the sweet old ladies sitting next to me.
Nor do I feel comfortable seeing ads for "Bod" body spray (which promises no end to the number of the ladies offering you their services, should you use their spray) in the minutes ticking down to the opening of a Harry Potter movie while surrounded by excited little moppets.
At least TV knows who I am and advertises accordingly. Sometimes.
POLL POSITION
You know, you can always click on images to expand them to full size
1 in 3 Loyal Leaguers polled have it in for Star Jones. Understandable as the woman may be of less entertainment value while somehow still managing to fill the airwaves 24/7 than any other human being alive. In fact, we dislike Star more than insurgents, who are only 1/5th the menace of Star Jones.
1 in 5 Leaguers is frustrated with the Astros. What happened to the 'Stros? So mighty last year. This year, a decent team with play-off hopes, but where's the magic? Where's the pizzaz? They need to go back to the orange jerseys. Too much Minute Maid, not enough batting practice.
Ford has bought and commoditized Taylor Hicks before we even had a chance to get sick of what was surely to be an underwhelming, treacly romp through rough-throated pop disappointment. Possibilities? I possibly have already gotten annoyed with the man before he's sold a single record. 2 of you feel the same way.
The one mad scientist in the audience needs to look into some duct tape for his/her cracked foam. Keep reaching for the stars!
Somehow both little dictator Kim Jung Il and perky little TV personality Katie Couric escape unscathed. How does this happen? These people are the two greatest threats to national security. Someone please remind me of when Katie Couric ever worked in news. No. Not a morning show... News. And don't worry Kim Jung Il, lots of guys experience that problem.
And good 'ol Heat Rash makes an appearance. Well done, heat rash! Always a favorite with those experiencing some uncomfortable chafing.
Now, ya'll get to voting in the new poll.
You know, you can always click on images to expand them to full size
1 in 3 Loyal Leaguers polled have it in for Star Jones. Understandable as the woman may be of less entertainment value while somehow still managing to fill the airwaves 24/7 than any other human being alive. In fact, we dislike Star more than insurgents, who are only 1/5th the menace of Star Jones.
1 in 5 Leaguers is frustrated with the Astros. What happened to the 'Stros? So mighty last year. This year, a decent team with play-off hopes, but where's the magic? Where's the pizzaz? They need to go back to the orange jerseys. Too much Minute Maid, not enough batting practice.
Ford has bought and commoditized Taylor Hicks before we even had a chance to get sick of what was surely to be an underwhelming, treacly romp through rough-throated pop disappointment. Possibilities? I possibly have already gotten annoyed with the man before he's sold a single record. 2 of you feel the same way.
The one mad scientist in the audience needs to look into some duct tape for his/her cracked foam. Keep reaching for the stars!
Somehow both little dictator Kim Jung Il and perky little TV personality Katie Couric escape unscathed. How does this happen? These people are the two greatest threats to national security. Someone please remind me of when Katie Couric ever worked in news. No. Not a morning show... News. And don't worry Kim Jung Il, lots of guys experience that problem.
And good 'ol Heat Rash makes an appearance. Well done, heat rash! Always a favorite with those experiencing some uncomfortable chafing.
Now, ya'll get to voting in the new poll.
Sunday, July 30, 2006
Pirates of the Caribbean 2 and more weekend hi-jinks
Leaguer Michael recently saw POTC2. This was his review in its entirety:
The director had a vision. Roll things in the jungle. Roll them and roll them hard.
The end.
Michael's review is concise and accurate.
When I go to Chipotle, I like to get me a nice burrito. I know even their enormous tortillas can only hold so much volume and mass, but I like to see if I can push it. In my burritos I like chicken and black beans, some cheese and some pico and some rice. Rice is good. But I do not want a burrito completely overflowing with rice just so I can have a properly overstuffed tortilla.
Do you see where I'm going with this?
POTC2 was a lot of rice. Sure, tasty, zippy rice with barnacles, but I kept biting into it wondering why there wasn't enough chicken. And then there was this salsa I wasn't expecting, and it sort of came out of nowhere and seemed kind of pointless.
Now, my burrito analogy only holds up so far, because as you may know if you dine at Chipotle, the burrito is all you really need. So maybe I should have compared the movie to a two-taco lunch. Only that's not really accurate, because the other taco doesn't come out a year from now, and I'm not irritated that my movie/taco will be delayed.
anyway, I guess I give the movie a solid 6.3333 out of 10.
We waited and waited all morning for some realtor to show up. She did not. I have no idea what happened. She had also called us at 9:00 last night to let us know she was coming, so I sort of thought it was an emergency... like these people REALLY wanted to see the house.
The people who were supposed to come between 3:00 and 4:00 came squarely at 3:15. Goody for them. We put the dogs in the car and took them to Petsmart. Lucy picked out a stuffed ring-necked pheasant (state bird of S. Dakota).
I also watched the iTunes-available ($1.99) pilot for Aquaman, done by the same guys who are doing Smallville. They had planned to run it in the fall, call it something like "Mercy Reef" and... I dunno.
I want to know who at the WB decided their trademark would be to put out shows with beautiful people who aren't terribly talented. It just seemed like a missing episode of "Smallville", which, despite my love of all things Super, I gave up on last season. I just had such a "been there, done that" feeling while watching the show. I said to Jamie that I thought that was why the new UPN/WB network had passed on the show, and Jamie, who is wise, said "Are you kidding me? Since when has WB been afraid for everything on their network to look exactly the same? And isn't Smallville their biggest show?"
So, yeah, I have no idea why they didn't pick up Aquaman (or Aqualad, I guess, as he's not yet Aquaman). I just know I was not going to ever watch that show.
I am off to see if I can amuse Melbotis. He is sulky and sleepy.
Leaguer Michael recently saw POTC2. This was his review in its entirety:
The director had a vision. Roll things in the jungle. Roll them and roll them hard.
The end.
Michael's review is concise and accurate.
When I go to Chipotle, I like to get me a nice burrito. I know even their enormous tortillas can only hold so much volume and mass, but I like to see if I can push it. In my burritos I like chicken and black beans, some cheese and some pico and some rice. Rice is good. But I do not want a burrito completely overflowing with rice just so I can have a properly overstuffed tortilla.
Do you see where I'm going with this?
POTC2 was a lot of rice. Sure, tasty, zippy rice with barnacles, but I kept biting into it wondering why there wasn't enough chicken. And then there was this salsa I wasn't expecting, and it sort of came out of nowhere and seemed kind of pointless.
Now, my burrito analogy only holds up so far, because as you may know if you dine at Chipotle, the burrito is all you really need. So maybe I should have compared the movie to a two-taco lunch. Only that's not really accurate, because the other taco doesn't come out a year from now, and I'm not irritated that my movie/taco will be delayed.
anyway, I guess I give the movie a solid 6.3333 out of 10.
We waited and waited all morning for some realtor to show up. She did not. I have no idea what happened. She had also called us at 9:00 last night to let us know she was coming, so I sort of thought it was an emergency... like these people REALLY wanted to see the house.
The people who were supposed to come between 3:00 and 4:00 came squarely at 3:15. Goody for them. We put the dogs in the car and took them to Petsmart. Lucy picked out a stuffed ring-necked pheasant (state bird of S. Dakota).
I also watched the iTunes-available ($1.99) pilot for Aquaman, done by the same guys who are doing Smallville. They had planned to run it in the fall, call it something like "Mercy Reef" and... I dunno.
I want to know who at the WB decided their trademark would be to put out shows with beautiful people who aren't terribly talented. It just seemed like a missing episode of "Smallville", which, despite my love of all things Super, I gave up on last season. I just had such a "been there, done that" feeling while watching the show. I said to Jamie that I thought that was why the new UPN/WB network had passed on the show, and Jamie, who is wise, said "Are you kidding me? Since when has WB been afraid for everything on their network to look exactly the same? And isn't Smallville their biggest show?"
So, yeah, I have no idea why they didn't pick up Aquaman (or Aqualad, I guess, as he's not yet Aquaman). I just know I was not going to ever watch that show.
I am off to see if I can amuse Melbotis. He is sulky and sleepy.
Once upon a time I was a huge fan of both Space Ghost Coast to Coast and Cartoon Planet.
One could learn a lot from these programs, but one of the most important lessons I ever learned was about that thing that makes the world go 'round. No, not centripetal force. Love.
Brak!
Brak is sort of a space-pirate lion headed thing in a mask. Anyway, he was a regular member of the cast of Cartoon Planet. And his mysterious words were often filled with wisdom.
Brak's Definition of Love
You know, love is a happy time all throughout the universe.
It's when the male part of the species goes to the female part of the species and says: "Hey, do you want to go on a date?" And then she would say: "Why yes, I'd like to go on a date!" -if you're LUCKY!-
And then you go to a restaurant, and she gets something called "a salad." And then he gets a big piece of beef, that he eats.
And that to me ladies and gentlemen, is LOVE.
Kinda makes you cry, doesn't it?
I first heard this definition the year Jamie and I started dating. All I'm saying is: six years of marriage and no police reports yet! Pretty good, Eh? Eh?
I shared this definition with my parents lot too long ago, and they seemed to agree that it sounded pretty accurate, and those guys have been married, like, forever. So take that as you will, but I sort of think Brak speaks a bit of truth.
So for all you single folks out there fretting over how complicated this romance business can be, just try to keep Brak's words of wisdom and encouragement in mind.
One could learn a lot from these programs, but one of the most important lessons I ever learned was about that thing that makes the world go 'round. No, not centripetal force. Love.
Brak!
Brak is sort of a space-pirate lion headed thing in a mask. Anyway, he was a regular member of the cast of Cartoon Planet. And his mysterious words were often filled with wisdom.
Brak's Definition of Love
You know, love is a happy time all throughout the universe.
It's when the male part of the species goes to the female part of the species and says: "Hey, do you want to go on a date?" And then she would say: "Why yes, I'd like to go on a date!" -if you're LUCKY!-
And then you go to a restaurant, and she gets something called "a salad." And then he gets a big piece of beef, that he eats.
And that to me ladies and gentlemen, is LOVE.
Kinda makes you cry, doesn't it?
I first heard this definition the year Jamie and I started dating. All I'm saying is: six years of marriage and no police reports yet! Pretty good, Eh? Eh?
I shared this definition with my parents lot too long ago, and they seemed to agree that it sounded pretty accurate, and those guys have been married, like, forever. So take that as you will, but I sort of think Brak speaks a bit of truth.
So for all you single folks out there fretting over how complicated this romance business can be, just try to keep Brak's words of wisdom and encouragement in mind.
SATURDAY NIGHT'S ALL RIGHT FOR BLOGGING
Well, Leaguers, we had ourselves a less than stellar Friday night and Saturday. As some of you may recall Jamie was having some trouble with migraines. Well, she's been on a pretty good preventative. Some might say... too good. She and her neurologist agreed that the preventative had been working (more or less) for so long, they couldn't be sure if the preventative was actually helping or if she wasn't having trouble anymore. So, they decided she should cut back on her preventative to see what was going on.
Long story short, we spent last night at the lovely new hospital about three miles from the house in their all-new emergency room. And, man, it was actually a pretty nice set-up. If you could ignore their "Nurse Call" alarm that sounded more than a little bit like a Disney Princess toy. Over. And over. And over.
Quote of the evening? By a young woman (who was wearing nothing but a bra for some reason) to her nurse: "The doctor said I had an er- er- ruptured ovarian cyst. I didn't even know I HAD an ovarian cyst!"
This somehow beats:
"Were you punched in the throat?"
"I dunno. I think I got hit like a thousand times! Huh huh huh huh huh!"
I have no idea what happened, but I saw the guy, and SOMEBODY beat the tar out of him. He was still managing to keep it sunny side up despite the black eye and whatnot. Good for him.
I've always been confused as to why more hospitals aren't networked or don't maintain a database of patient info at their fingertips. We may have gotten into the ER at 7:30, but Jamie was admitted much later. Well, Leaguers, there's nothing like trying to help a nurse input literally pages of fields when a nurse is a "hunt and peck" typist. Not to mention when the programmers insisted on a hard-coded list of options rather than allowing for blank fields in some key locations. Especially at 2:00 AM. Especially when the nurse is insisting she can't do anything until all the data is loaded. And then the lab tech accidentally fires a vial of Jamie's blood into the air and suddenly there's little drops of Jamie everywhere, inclduing the tech's otherwise sparkling white outfit.
Good times.
Most hospital cafeterias sell some incredibly unhealthy options for both their staff and for patient's families. Cheeseburgers, chicken fingers, etc... Not so at this place. Probably because the budget for this brand-spankin' new (albeit completely empty) cafeteria is much higher than is required to feed the handful of patients and staff actually in the hospital, it appears the cafeteria staff are going all Colonel Kurtz and fancy themselves gourmets. I had a lovely lunch of salmon with a mushroom-butter spread, whipped potatos with a hint of bacon, and fresh steamed asparagus. This meal would have run me $17 at minimum most places. At the hospital it ran me $7.00, with a large drink.
Anyhow, Jamie is doing fine (aside from some oddly high levels of potassium) and she's home again after being admitted over night and through most of the day. At least this hospital provides a half-way decent bed option for folks who want to spend the night. Just no pillows or blankets. Those you must steal from the elderly patients who cannot defend themselves.
In non-hospital related news, the house showed twice today. Which meant I also managed to get locked out. It's a long story, but it involves me, my house key being inside the house and an overzealous realtor. I was waiting to hear back from our realtor, Pat, whom I was hoping would be able to let me in with the key from our lockbox and in order to kill some time I went and wandered around some stores.
I found a little kid's Batman digital camera on sale for $19. It can fit neatly in your pocket, has built in memory, is compatible with decent memory cards, can shoot video and came with photo editing software and video recording software. $19. Some kid in a sweatshop in Thailand just made me a real bargain.
Lucy would like to steal your soul now, please!
Well, Leaguers, we had ourselves a less than stellar Friday night and Saturday. As some of you may recall Jamie was having some trouble with migraines. Well, she's been on a pretty good preventative. Some might say... too good. She and her neurologist agreed that the preventative had been working (more or less) for so long, they couldn't be sure if the preventative was actually helping or if she wasn't having trouble anymore. So, they decided she should cut back on her preventative to see what was going on.
Long story short, we spent last night at the lovely new hospital about three miles from the house in their all-new emergency room. And, man, it was actually a pretty nice set-up. If you could ignore their "Nurse Call" alarm that sounded more than a little bit like a Disney Princess toy. Over. And over. And over.
Quote of the evening? By a young woman (who was wearing nothing but a bra for some reason) to her nurse: "The doctor said I had an er- er- ruptured ovarian cyst. I didn't even know I HAD an ovarian cyst!"
This somehow beats:
"Were you punched in the throat?"
"I dunno. I think I got hit like a thousand times! Huh huh huh huh huh!"
I have no idea what happened, but I saw the guy, and SOMEBODY beat the tar out of him. He was still managing to keep it sunny side up despite the black eye and whatnot. Good for him.
I've always been confused as to why more hospitals aren't networked or don't maintain a database of patient info at their fingertips. We may have gotten into the ER at 7:30, but Jamie was admitted much later. Well, Leaguers, there's nothing like trying to help a nurse input literally pages of fields when a nurse is a "hunt and peck" typist. Not to mention when the programmers insisted on a hard-coded list of options rather than allowing for blank fields in some key locations. Especially at 2:00 AM. Especially when the nurse is insisting she can't do anything until all the data is loaded. And then the lab tech accidentally fires a vial of Jamie's blood into the air and suddenly there's little drops of Jamie everywhere, inclduing the tech's otherwise sparkling white outfit.
Good times.
Most hospital cafeterias sell some incredibly unhealthy options for both their staff and for patient's families. Cheeseburgers, chicken fingers, etc... Not so at this place. Probably because the budget for this brand-spankin' new (albeit completely empty) cafeteria is much higher than is required to feed the handful of patients and staff actually in the hospital, it appears the cafeteria staff are going all Colonel Kurtz and fancy themselves gourmets. I had a lovely lunch of salmon with a mushroom-butter spread, whipped potatos with a hint of bacon, and fresh steamed asparagus. This meal would have run me $17 at minimum most places. At the hospital it ran me $7.00, with a large drink.
Anyhow, Jamie is doing fine (aside from some oddly high levels of potassium) and she's home again after being admitted over night and through most of the day. At least this hospital provides a half-way decent bed option for folks who want to spend the night. Just no pillows or blankets. Those you must steal from the elderly patients who cannot defend themselves.
In non-hospital related news, the house showed twice today. Which meant I also managed to get locked out. It's a long story, but it involves me, my house key being inside the house and an overzealous realtor. I was waiting to hear back from our realtor, Pat, whom I was hoping would be able to let me in with the key from our lockbox and in order to kill some time I went and wandered around some stores.
I found a little kid's Batman digital camera on sale for $19. It can fit neatly in your pocket, has built in memory, is compatible with decent memory cards, can shoot video and came with photo editing software and video recording software. $19. Some kid in a sweatshop in Thailand just made me a real bargain.
Lucy would like to steal your soul now, please!
Friday, July 28, 2006
Okay, not only did I end up liking "Who Wants to be a Superhero?", but I'm now watching "Garth Marenghi's Darkplace", and it may be the best show... ever. I'm also kind of pleased to see Mike Mignola's "Amazing Screw On Head" got his own show. Sure, it was just a single comic back around 2000, but I loved the concept back then.
I was pleased to see the very Stan Lee-like challenge put to the heroes on WWTBS?, and I was completely unsurprised to see the comic geek who "knew everything about every comic" got bounced. And I tell you this... my new favorite superheroes? Major Victory and Fat Momma (the two I was sure I would like least). By God, if I ever end up finally flipping my lid and donning tights, I think you'd just see a chubbier version of Major Victory running around. Now THAT'S superheroism, Leaguers.
I apologize for doubting the wisdom of Stan "The Man" Lee.
The show is now alomost over, and I just can't recommend "Garth Marenghi's Darkplace" enough.
I was pleased to see the very Stan Lee-like challenge put to the heroes on WWTBS?, and I was completely unsurprised to see the comic geek who "knew everything about every comic" got bounced. And I tell you this... my new favorite superheroes? Major Victory and Fat Momma (the two I was sure I would like least). By God, if I ever end up finally flipping my lid and donning tights, I think you'd just see a chubbier version of Major Victory running around. Now THAT'S superheroism, Leaguers.
I apologize for doubting the wisdom of Stan "The Man" Lee.
The show is now alomost over, and I just can't recommend "Garth Marenghi's Darkplace" enough.
Thursday, July 27, 2006
Who Wants to be a Superhero, Etc...
So Peabo had some heated words for me in the comments section. I put together an astounding reply to which anyone would have to be impressed. Unfortunately, WordPad decided to freak out when I went to save it as a back-up (ha ha, die Windows, die!). So long to an hour of my life.
Suffice it to say, I am brilliantly aware of international politics. So just imagine yourselves stunned at my insightful and irrefutable retort. Peabo (and you all) will just have to live in a whirlpool of mystery, wondering what it was I might have said to show him the error of his ways.
People keep sending me links about Stan Lee's "Who Wants to be a Superhero?"
I have an answer to that question: L.A.-entrenched failed actors looking for exposure.
Stan has been trying to sell this idea since "Who Wants to be a Millionaire?" was in it's prime (ie: when Nathan freaked out North America by introducing The Reeg to his monkey, Coco). Thus, the name of Stan's show.
I thought it was a bad idea for a show back then, and I am still not entirely sold on the concept now.
Loyal Leaguers you may all be, but let's face facts: aside from Spider-Man and Batman, you think superheroes are pretty stupid, right?
I mean, if you were at a party and someone asked you to come up with a superhero idea, you'd probably tie a towel around your neck, grab a plunger and a shower cap, and declare yourself "Roto-Rooter Man/ Lady" (no discrimination here), and you'd get a big laugh. I'd laugh, too. That's good stuff.
That's pretty much what the show looks like it's lining up to be. Whether Stan was ever serious about trying to find a property to develop through his Pow! Entertainment company (ie: not Marvel), or whether he was just looking at the dollar signs tied to reality game shows is sort of irrelevant. The producers don't care WHAT Stan does with the winner.
Like American Idol, the opening tone will no doubt be ridiculous as chubby comic-loving dorks squeeze into homemade outfits and go before a panel of "judges" to pitch their concept. There will be a snarky voice-over encouraging us to make fun of the fat guy in the shorts, or the moderately unhinged guy in his Punisher-like commando get-up. A few people will be genuine or funny enough to move on to the actual final round.
The other night I found myself completely unable to watch TLC's new show "The Messengers" (which came on after two hours of shows about somethign called primordial dwarfism. Apparently, gelflings live among us). "The Messengers" is a reality/ game show which features wanna-be motivation speakers going through a harrowing experience, such as being homeless for a few hours, and then shouting at a crowd about how it sucks to be homeless. For a few hours.
I brought this up with Jamie about what an odd concept the show was, and she didn't even blink. "What do you want me to say?" she finally sighed after repeatedly being cued to be impressed, "They'll put anything on TV in gameshow format."
Judging from the list of contestants on the website, "Who Wants to be a Superhero" has gone for the quick-cash-in "wacky" factor. This seems rather obvious.
I would have thought long-term. Go for the hard-core geek audience and create what could be a nichey show about how comic properties are developed and how one can create a character as enduring as Spider-Man. I mean, Jesus. This is Stan "I developed X-Men, The Hulk, Spidey, the Fantastic Four and countless others" Lee we're talking about. If anyone could give a few pointers and career tips as he enjoys his semi-retirement, it's this guy.
This is not to say "WWTBS?" won't be fun and funny. If it works. But you know what's not funny two hours into the party? Roto-Rooter Man.
In comics, very few comedy comics stick, especially funny superhero comics. Even "The Tick" is mostly reprints these days. The original Red Tornado, Forbush Man, 'Mazing Man and Ambush Bug all had a few moments in the sun, but I think you'd be hard pressed to find a hard-core fan base or margin of profitability for any of the characters.
So, once again we're back to 1960-whatever, and Batman is hilarious. For three seasons. Frikkin' "Yes, Dear" has already surpassed that by 3 years.
Yes, I do like the campy side of superheroes. I'm all about movies like "Mystery Men", etc... but even those movies had a story (and "Casanova Frankenstein" is the best villain name ever. Seriously. I will be 90 years old and will still be jealous that I couldn't come up with that name).
I will watch the pilot so I have a common point of reference, but I'll be honest, it's a muted enthusiasm. I see 11 Roto-Rooter Men/ Ladies.
So Peabo had some heated words for me in the comments section. I put together an astounding reply to which anyone would have to be impressed. Unfortunately, WordPad decided to freak out when I went to save it as a back-up (ha ha, die Windows, die!). So long to an hour of my life.
Suffice it to say, I am brilliantly aware of international politics. So just imagine yourselves stunned at my insightful and irrefutable retort. Peabo (and you all) will just have to live in a whirlpool of mystery, wondering what it was I might have said to show him the error of his ways.
People keep sending me links about Stan Lee's "Who Wants to be a Superhero?"
I have an answer to that question: L.A.-entrenched failed actors looking for exposure.
Stan has been trying to sell this idea since "Who Wants to be a Millionaire?" was in it's prime (ie: when Nathan freaked out North America by introducing The Reeg to his monkey, Coco). Thus, the name of Stan's show.
I thought it was a bad idea for a show back then, and I am still not entirely sold on the concept now.
Loyal Leaguers you may all be, but let's face facts: aside from Spider-Man and Batman, you think superheroes are pretty stupid, right?
I mean, if you were at a party and someone asked you to come up with a superhero idea, you'd probably tie a towel around your neck, grab a plunger and a shower cap, and declare yourself "Roto-Rooter Man/ Lady" (no discrimination here), and you'd get a big laugh. I'd laugh, too. That's good stuff.
That's pretty much what the show looks like it's lining up to be. Whether Stan was ever serious about trying to find a property to develop through his Pow! Entertainment company (ie: not Marvel), or whether he was just looking at the dollar signs tied to reality game shows is sort of irrelevant. The producers don't care WHAT Stan does with the winner.
Like American Idol, the opening tone will no doubt be ridiculous as chubby comic-loving dorks squeeze into homemade outfits and go before a panel of "judges" to pitch their concept. There will be a snarky voice-over encouraging us to make fun of the fat guy in the shorts, or the moderately unhinged guy in his Punisher-like commando get-up. A few people will be genuine or funny enough to move on to the actual final round.
The other night I found myself completely unable to watch TLC's new show "The Messengers" (which came on after two hours of shows about somethign called primordial dwarfism. Apparently, gelflings live among us). "The Messengers" is a reality/ game show which features wanna-be motivation speakers going through a harrowing experience, such as being homeless for a few hours, and then shouting at a crowd about how it sucks to be homeless. For a few hours.
I brought this up with Jamie about what an odd concept the show was, and she didn't even blink. "What do you want me to say?" she finally sighed after repeatedly being cued to be impressed, "They'll put anything on TV in gameshow format."
Judging from the list of contestants on the website, "Who Wants to be a Superhero" has gone for the quick-cash-in "wacky" factor. This seems rather obvious.
I would have thought long-term. Go for the hard-core geek audience and create what could be a nichey show about how comic properties are developed and how one can create a character as enduring as Spider-Man. I mean, Jesus. This is Stan "I developed X-Men, The Hulk, Spidey, the Fantastic Four and countless others" Lee we're talking about. If anyone could give a few pointers and career tips as he enjoys his semi-retirement, it's this guy.
This is not to say "WWTBS?" won't be fun and funny. If it works. But you know what's not funny two hours into the party? Roto-Rooter Man.
In comics, very few comedy comics stick, especially funny superhero comics. Even "The Tick" is mostly reprints these days. The original Red Tornado, Forbush Man, 'Mazing Man and Ambush Bug all had a few moments in the sun, but I think you'd be hard pressed to find a hard-core fan base or margin of profitability for any of the characters.
So, once again we're back to 1960-whatever, and Batman is hilarious. For three seasons. Frikkin' "Yes, Dear" has already surpassed that by 3 years.
Yes, I do like the campy side of superheroes. I'm all about movies like "Mystery Men", etc... but even those movies had a story (and "Casanova Frankenstein" is the best villain name ever. Seriously. I will be 90 years old and will still be jealous that I couldn't come up with that name).
I will watch the pilot so I have a common point of reference, but I'll be honest, it's a muted enthusiasm. I see 11 Roto-Rooter Men/ Ladies.
Wednesday, July 26, 2006
CAPTAIN OF THE THUNDER AND LIGHTNING
Wow, Leaguers... We had some serious weather last night here in the PHX. BOOM! POW! WHOOOOSH!!!!
We don't get too many days of rain and thunderstorms, but we do get these storms they call "monsoons". Now PHX is a little different from, oh, say, Myanmar. We don't get real monsoons, but we do get these wet fronts that come in from the ocean south of us, and... man... they can be sort of exciting. In the daytime they usually come with a wall of dust several stories high, just sweeping across the desert.
Last night we got the longest, most sustained lightning storm I'd ever seen in Arizona. It was the sort of fun you get in Dallas or occasionally in Austin, but without the fear of a twister coming and tossing you right out of your La-Z-Boy.
SHAZAM!
We do not have children, but we do have pets. And last night, for the first time in a long time, I let Mel sleep in bed with us. He was a little off from the storm, and he's so very happy when we let him sleep on the bed. Unfortunately, Mel is the size of a people. So when I came to bed last night, and Mel was sprawled across the foot of the bed, it was kind of a tough negotiation.
Jeff the Cat does not like rain. Or thunder. or lightning. So he curls up into a tiny ball, finds a spot where the sounds are quietest and just sits, slowly freaking out. He was hiding int he guest bath when I finally retired.
Lucy-Girl had to pee, and as she's seen rain maybe four or five times in her life, she wasn't feeling too confident when I kicked her outside. I felt pretty bad for her, so I went outside to lend her moral support, and man... the wind was kicking our trees around, rain was coming down by the bucket-load and it was like a Frankenstein movie with all the thunder and lightning. Lucy, of course, gav eup on being scared and decided 9:30 in a lightning storm is the perfect time to play fetch, especially with four inches of standing water in the yard.
The good news is she did pee. The bad news is I had to put her to bed still damp and disgruntled that I called the game of fetch short.
Growing up in Houston and Austin and weathering hurricanes and tornadoes, I do remember being scared of thunder and lightning. If Jason was around, like in one of the years we shared a bedroom or if it was during the day, it always helped. Trees might be snapping, the power might be out, but he'd look at me and say "Hey, pretend we're on a ship and we need to secure the ship." And we'd be sailors on a ship, battening hatches and pulling down sails, fearless against the elements. Or, "We're hiding in a cave from the dragon outside," and we were adventurers holed up in secret, snickering to ourselves about the loot we'd stolen from the dragon who was, even now, causing all that calamity just beyond the cave entrance.
And when that didn't work, he'd count it out for me. "Hear that...? That lightning flash and thunder? There was eight seconds between the flash and thunder. That was eight miles away..." Eight miles might as well have been in Paraguay... that was a safe distance.
I don't get as bent out of shape about the weather anymore. But I still think about riding on a wind-tossed ship in the sea, or in the cave hiding from the dragon... and occasionally in my DCU-addled brain I watch the lightning streak across the sky and I think of Captain Marvel going toe-to-toe with some monster hiding among the clouds. With one magic word and a bolt of mystic lightning, Billy Batson transforms from an ordinary boy to the World's Mightiest Mortal, a being of myths and stories. The kind of stories of adventure and adversity Jason used to make up on the spot when the monsters were reaching down out of the clouds.
And that's why these days I look forward to the thunder and lightning.
SHAZAM!!!!
Wow, Leaguers... We had some serious weather last night here in the PHX. BOOM! POW! WHOOOOSH!!!!
We don't get too many days of rain and thunderstorms, but we do get these storms they call "monsoons". Now PHX is a little different from, oh, say, Myanmar. We don't get real monsoons, but we do get these wet fronts that come in from the ocean south of us, and... man... they can be sort of exciting. In the daytime they usually come with a wall of dust several stories high, just sweeping across the desert.
Last night we got the longest, most sustained lightning storm I'd ever seen in Arizona. It was the sort of fun you get in Dallas or occasionally in Austin, but without the fear of a twister coming and tossing you right out of your La-Z-Boy.
SHAZAM!
We do not have children, but we do have pets. And last night, for the first time in a long time, I let Mel sleep in bed with us. He was a little off from the storm, and he's so very happy when we let him sleep on the bed. Unfortunately, Mel is the size of a people. So when I came to bed last night, and Mel was sprawled across the foot of the bed, it was kind of a tough negotiation.
Jeff the Cat does not like rain. Or thunder. or lightning. So he curls up into a tiny ball, finds a spot where the sounds are quietest and just sits, slowly freaking out. He was hiding int he guest bath when I finally retired.
Lucy-Girl had to pee, and as she's seen rain maybe four or five times in her life, she wasn't feeling too confident when I kicked her outside. I felt pretty bad for her, so I went outside to lend her moral support, and man... the wind was kicking our trees around, rain was coming down by the bucket-load and it was like a Frankenstein movie with all the thunder and lightning. Lucy, of course, gav eup on being scared and decided 9:30 in a lightning storm is the perfect time to play fetch, especially with four inches of standing water in the yard.
The good news is she did pee. The bad news is I had to put her to bed still damp and disgruntled that I called the game of fetch short.
Growing up in Houston and Austin and weathering hurricanes and tornadoes, I do remember being scared of thunder and lightning. If Jason was around, like in one of the years we shared a bedroom or if it was during the day, it always helped. Trees might be snapping, the power might be out, but he'd look at me and say "Hey, pretend we're on a ship and we need to secure the ship." And we'd be sailors on a ship, battening hatches and pulling down sails, fearless against the elements. Or, "We're hiding in a cave from the dragon outside," and we were adventurers holed up in secret, snickering to ourselves about the loot we'd stolen from the dragon who was, even now, causing all that calamity just beyond the cave entrance.
And when that didn't work, he'd count it out for me. "Hear that...? That lightning flash and thunder? There was eight seconds between the flash and thunder. That was eight miles away..." Eight miles might as well have been in Paraguay... that was a safe distance.
I don't get as bent out of shape about the weather anymore. But I still think about riding on a wind-tossed ship in the sea, or in the cave hiding from the dragon... and occasionally in my DCU-addled brain I watch the lightning streak across the sky and I think of Captain Marvel going toe-to-toe with some monster hiding among the clouds. With one magic word and a bolt of mystic lightning, Billy Batson transforms from an ordinary boy to the World's Mightiest Mortal, a being of myths and stories. The kind of stories of adventure and adversity Jason used to make up on the spot when the monsters were reaching down out of the clouds.
And that's why these days I look forward to the thunder and lightning.
SHAZAM!!!!
Tuesday, July 25, 2006
I don't want to be a Negative Ned, but does anyone else sort of feel like we're finally getting that third world war in the hopper?
As if our adventuring overseas wasn't enough to ruin your afternoon, and if the excitement in Lebanon wasn't enough to get you to stall for a minute on the news... well... this can't be good
As if our adventuring overseas wasn't enough to ruin your afternoon, and if the excitement in Lebanon wasn't enough to get you to stall for a minute on the news... well... this can't be good
Monday, July 24, 2006
Summer of Superman: No Superman 2?
Leaguers, you've failed me. Superman Returns has only raked in $170+ million up to this point. As the movie cost a lot more than that to get made and marketed, it looks like the chances for a sequel are pretty much drawing to a close.
Now, what kind of crazy-assed we world we live in where $170 million isn't enough of a gross to make a profit...? Well, I don't really like to think about that all that much.
What's really upsetting is that X-Men 3, which was, at best, a cookie-cutter action sequel, and at worst... well, let's not get into what I personally felt about the movie, but that movie made something like $230 million.
@#$%ing Brett Ratner, man.
There's no justice.
The American movie going public is a fickle beast, to be sure. I'll never know why Super Returns didn't do better at the box office (ie: why more people didn't want to see Superman in a movie), but I have a suspicion...
Nobody generates bad press like Superman.
I get a lot of e-mails from Loyal Leaguers and beyond any time some pop-culture columnist can't think of anything to write about and decide to jump on the "I am so smart, Superman is no longer relevant" bandwagon. You don't see a lot of articles about why Iron Man or Thor are out of touch with the American zeitgeist. Or a lot of ink spilled over Batman's irrelevancy in our day and age. And with every movie review re: a superhero movie, the reviewers who haven't seen Superman since they were 8 spend a lot of time talking about how Superman is a simple-minded lummox, a boy scout, etc... but Batman and Spider-Man... well, those guys, they're REAL characters.
I think we all sort of killed Superman. At some point we decided Superman was the broadstroke caricature, the two-tone copyright-infringing generic "superhero" popping up in ads for plumbers and carpet millers. He was that silly man-like-object who couldn't be taken seriously while Spider-Man... Spider-Man and Batman both seemed safe. I mean, really, they were just us, right...? And not really... super. We made Kal-El into the alien he'd always tried so hard not to be.
We read the pop culture reviewers rants about how our age had surpassed that of Superman's simple origin (ah, the joy of looking at our forebears and laughing), how Superman is a kid's fantasy, how he's sexually confused, how he's a relic, how he is nothing but the nerd's projection of powerlessness, how he couldn't have sex with Lois without killing her... we analyzed and analyzed until what was left?
Jesus. How well do you really think Wolverine would hold up under such scrutiny?
We've been trained not to trust the character, to believe he's got to be up to something, that nobody could possibly be who he seems to be when he's not one of us.
Superman Returns did receive fairly good reviews. It had amazing special effects and a few stars in the cast. And lets be honest... they marketed the hell out of that movie, maybe too much, but I don't think there was a lot of confusion that Superman Returns was coming out this summer. But that was a media blitz for a movie fighting uphill against a whisper campaign starting sometime back in the mid-80's when the last of the Reeve Superman movies was released to empty theaters.
I'm disappointed, Leaguers. The nay-saying Luthors have won. I don't think I'm getting my second installment.
So if you haven't seen the movie, say you were too busy, and, heck, by the time you DID have time, you thought you would just go see the Pirate movie instead... Or just wait until the DVD... Go check out Superman Returns now, on the big screen while you can.
And if you've already seen it just the once and that was it... Leaguers, go see it again. Heck, go just to see what the little kid has printed on his jammies in the final scene. I noticed it on a second viewing and it was all I could do not to crack up and ruin the mood of the whole theater. Fathers, take your sons.
It's a mighty weight, Leaguers. A weight great enough that even Superman himself can't lift. So put your backs into it.
Leaguers, you've failed me. Superman Returns has only raked in $170+ million up to this point. As the movie cost a lot more than that to get made and marketed, it looks like the chances for a sequel are pretty much drawing to a close.
Now, what kind of crazy-assed we world we live in where $170 million isn't enough of a gross to make a profit...? Well, I don't really like to think about that all that much.
What's really upsetting is that X-Men 3, which was, at best, a cookie-cutter action sequel, and at worst... well, let's not get into what I personally felt about the movie, but that movie made something like $230 million.
@#$%ing Brett Ratner, man.
There's no justice.
The American movie going public is a fickle beast, to be sure. I'll never know why Super Returns didn't do better at the box office (ie: why more people didn't want to see Superman in a movie), but I have a suspicion...
Nobody generates bad press like Superman.
I get a lot of e-mails from Loyal Leaguers and beyond any time some pop-culture columnist can't think of anything to write about and decide to jump on the "I am so smart, Superman is no longer relevant" bandwagon. You don't see a lot of articles about why Iron Man or Thor are out of touch with the American zeitgeist. Or a lot of ink spilled over Batman's irrelevancy in our day and age. And with every movie review re: a superhero movie, the reviewers who haven't seen Superman since they were 8 spend a lot of time talking about how Superman is a simple-minded lummox, a boy scout, etc... but Batman and Spider-Man... well, those guys, they're REAL characters.
I think we all sort of killed Superman. At some point we decided Superman was the broadstroke caricature, the two-tone copyright-infringing generic "superhero" popping up in ads for plumbers and carpet millers. He was that silly man-like-object who couldn't be taken seriously while Spider-Man... Spider-Man and Batman both seemed safe. I mean, really, they were just us, right...? And not really... super. We made Kal-El into the alien he'd always tried so hard not to be.
We read the pop culture reviewers rants about how our age had surpassed that of Superman's simple origin (ah, the joy of looking at our forebears and laughing), how Superman is a kid's fantasy, how he's sexually confused, how he's a relic, how he is nothing but the nerd's projection of powerlessness, how he couldn't have sex with Lois without killing her... we analyzed and analyzed until what was left?
Jesus. How well do you really think Wolverine would hold up under such scrutiny?
We've been trained not to trust the character, to believe he's got to be up to something, that nobody could possibly be who he seems to be when he's not one of us.
Superman Returns did receive fairly good reviews. It had amazing special effects and a few stars in the cast. And lets be honest... they marketed the hell out of that movie, maybe too much, but I don't think there was a lot of confusion that Superman Returns was coming out this summer. But that was a media blitz for a movie fighting uphill against a whisper campaign starting sometime back in the mid-80's when the last of the Reeve Superman movies was released to empty theaters.
I'm disappointed, Leaguers. The nay-saying Luthors have won. I don't think I'm getting my second installment.
So if you haven't seen the movie, say you were too busy, and, heck, by the time you DID have time, you thought you would just go see the Pirate movie instead... Or just wait until the DVD... Go check out Superman Returns now, on the big screen while you can.
And if you've already seen it just the once and that was it... Leaguers, go see it again. Heck, go just to see what the little kid has printed on his jammies in the final scene. I noticed it on a second viewing and it was all I could do not to crack up and ruin the mood of the whole theater. Fathers, take your sons.
It's a mighty weight, Leaguers. A weight great enough that even Superman himself can't lift. So put your backs into it.
Sunday, July 23, 2006
WEEKEND ROUNDUP
Howdy, Leaguers!
It's been a whirlwind of a weekend here at League HQ. I got home Friday night and was immediately put to work. Thursday we'd selected a realtor, so as of Friday we knew that Sunday afternoon we'd have Pat here to take pictures of the house, sign some papers and put the house on the market.
So, I pretty much spent all of my time from Friday evening until about 12:00 today organzing my office, packing action figures and statues and doing a lot of general organizing. Now, a lot of that may seem like Ryan wasn't doing anything else in the rest of the house, and if you thought that, well, you're an observant sort of Leaguer.
Jamie's been on cleaning overdrive since I mentioned picking up stakes. She's gotten some spot help from me, but overall, it's been a one-woman job. She deserves some applause.
We've also had to take steps towards "depersonalizing" the house. So a lot of our personal effects have had to get put away so folks who come in can visiualize themselves in your space. Curiously, Pat the Realtor didn't seem to worry too much about The Fortress. She was mostly concerned kids would walk out with figures or pull them off the shelves. So, I have to pack them away until we sell and move.
Poor little Supermans all put away in the dark.
Jamie is obviously very concerned that Pat the Realtor suggested putting Mel and Lucy in the car and driving off with them every time people come to the house. Mel and Lucy are both sweet dogs, but Lucy believes jumping at you is completely acceptable while Mel will cry and cry if you pull him away from the peoples. Ugh.
Our prep meant my neglected little corner of the world needed a lot of help. However, I did get a chance to hang out in The Fortress and watch 2 discs of my "Adventures of Superman Seasons 3 & 4" collection.
All of that Superman wasn't quite enough, so we decided to go see "Superman Returns" again. Honestly, I think I liked the movie even better the second time around. There's a lot going on in that movie, and the first time I think I was so overwhelmed with the "wow" factor of the film that I missed some of the little things and character bits.
Jim D. also contributed to the high quality Supermanness of the weekend by sending along a box of back-issues he'd picked up for me. Inside were some issues of DC COmics Presents (a Superman team-up book) and issues of "Jimmy Olsen". Yes, Jimmy Olsen used to have his very own title. Yes, that goofy photographer from the movies.
I like Jimmy. I'm a fan. It's a fun idea, this "Superman's Pal" thing. It sounds like a back-up feature, but at one point Jimmy Olsen sold a heck of a lot of comics every month.
Anyhow, it's late. Hope your weekend was super, too.
Howdy, Leaguers!
It's been a whirlwind of a weekend here at League HQ. I got home Friday night and was immediately put to work. Thursday we'd selected a realtor, so as of Friday we knew that Sunday afternoon we'd have Pat here to take pictures of the house, sign some papers and put the house on the market.
So, I pretty much spent all of my time from Friday evening until about 12:00 today organzing my office, packing action figures and statues and doing a lot of general organizing. Now, a lot of that may seem like Ryan wasn't doing anything else in the rest of the house, and if you thought that, well, you're an observant sort of Leaguer.
Jamie's been on cleaning overdrive since I mentioned picking up stakes. She's gotten some spot help from me, but overall, it's been a one-woman job. She deserves some applause.
We've also had to take steps towards "depersonalizing" the house. So a lot of our personal effects have had to get put away so folks who come in can visiualize themselves in your space. Curiously, Pat the Realtor didn't seem to worry too much about The Fortress. She was mostly concerned kids would walk out with figures or pull them off the shelves. So, I have to pack them away until we sell and move.
Poor little Supermans all put away in the dark.
Jamie is obviously very concerned that Pat the Realtor suggested putting Mel and Lucy in the car and driving off with them every time people come to the house. Mel and Lucy are both sweet dogs, but Lucy believes jumping at you is completely acceptable while Mel will cry and cry if you pull him away from the peoples. Ugh.
Our prep meant my neglected little corner of the world needed a lot of help. However, I did get a chance to hang out in The Fortress and watch 2 discs of my "Adventures of Superman Seasons 3 & 4" collection.
All of that Superman wasn't quite enough, so we decided to go see "Superman Returns" again. Honestly, I think I liked the movie even better the second time around. There's a lot going on in that movie, and the first time I think I was so overwhelmed with the "wow" factor of the film that I missed some of the little things and character bits.
Jim D. also contributed to the high quality Supermanness of the weekend by sending along a box of back-issues he'd picked up for me. Inside were some issues of DC COmics Presents (a Superman team-up book) and issues of "Jimmy Olsen". Yes, Jimmy Olsen used to have his very own title. Yes, that goofy photographer from the movies.
I like Jimmy. I'm a fan. It's a fun idea, this "Superman's Pal" thing. It sounds like a back-up feature, but at one point Jimmy Olsen sold a heck of a lot of comics every month.
Anyhow, it's late. Hope your weekend was super, too.
Friday, July 21, 2006
Thursday, July 20, 2006
I am a packrat.
I have a hard time throwing things away. I have a great time accumulating baubles and hoo-hahs.
When it comes to moving, this is not a welcome trait. When you move, you pay by an estimate of the weight the truck will carry. I have somewhere in the neighborhood of 25-30 long boxes of comics. According to comicpriceguide.com, I have somewhere near 5,200 comics. This doesn't include my graphic novel collection. Or action figures. Or signed Noel Neill photos. Or Superman and Batman related videos. And my super cool statues, props, etc...
A lot of people are surprised we aren't planning to move into a rental place until we find a house. "Put it in storage" they keep telling me.
No.
It's not that I can't bear to think of my comics living in Public Storage for a year or two. Rather, I'm much more concerned that if we rented, then bought a place and moved again, it would mean I would have to move all of this junk twice. That's a lot of heavy lifting without the help of the surly moving guys who we plan to hire.
Why surly? I have learned in my moves that the moving guys will hate me for moving what is essentially boxes and boxes of paper. Paper is heavy, Leaguers. Maybe not "box of lead" heavy, but it's almost water heavy. There's few things that runs a chill up my spine more than the look of desperation rolling over the face of the movers when they see my comics.
"Is that all books?"
"Comics."
"Comic... books?"
"Uhmmm... yes."
As much as they don't want to have to lift all that weight, I don't want for them to manhandle those boxes of precious, precious comics. Or my toys. Or, you know, my amazing statues.
Such is the fate of the mover who takes on our house. Sure, we're not exactly moving the Library at Alexandria, but I guess most people don't intentionally keep crates of paper around. Or books.
Dear Mr. Mover,
Please love my comics, too.
We met with our final realtor last night. The bottom line is that we should have sold last Spring if we wanted to make the big bucks. Now it's going to be a game of figuring out how to still make money, but price the house low enough that it can move faster than the other houses in our neighborhood. (our neighborhood has a total of 6 models, I believe, with 2 or 3 around our same square footage). So if we were to undercut everybody else, we might move our house a lot faster. I feel okay about that as I think all we're doing is beating everyone else already on the market to an inevitable sales point. On the other hand, we might also drive down the price of every house in our neighborhood.
Well, maybe they should have thought of that before they didn't talk to us for the past four years. Screw you, neighbors!
I just want to sell and go. Is that so wrong?
My boss posted my position yesterday. I was curious as to how the job would read, and while I would have flip-flopped the order of the responsibilities listed, I thought they came up with a surprisingly accurate description of what I do. Sort of. They didn't include the "Shadow Puppet Theatre" I like to do when the projector is turned on in the conference room.
The description also does not include that in April I was named the Assistant Fire Chief for my office. No, really. If our Admin Assistant is somehow unable to perform her Fire Chief duties, I am next on tap to usher my co-workers out of the building. Who shall convince the Director to get off the phone when the alarm goes off if not I? Because that happened back in February during an actual fire. Guy wouldn't get off the phone and there were flames in the elevator shaft. That, Leaguers, is dedication.
Jim D. has suggested I write a novel or meoir or something regarding the move. I have mixed feelings on this as I sincerely hope that nothing exciting enough to warrant a novel will happen during my move. Is it too much to hope for a smooth transition?
I have a hard time throwing things away. I have a great time accumulating baubles and hoo-hahs.
When it comes to moving, this is not a welcome trait. When you move, you pay by an estimate of the weight the truck will carry. I have somewhere in the neighborhood of 25-30 long boxes of comics. According to comicpriceguide.com, I have somewhere near 5,200 comics. This doesn't include my graphic novel collection. Or action figures. Or signed Noel Neill photos. Or Superman and Batman related videos. And my super cool statues, props, etc...
A lot of people are surprised we aren't planning to move into a rental place until we find a house. "Put it in storage" they keep telling me.
No.
It's not that I can't bear to think of my comics living in Public Storage for a year or two. Rather, I'm much more concerned that if we rented, then bought a place and moved again, it would mean I would have to move all of this junk twice. That's a lot of heavy lifting without the help of the surly moving guys who we plan to hire.
Why surly? I have learned in my moves that the moving guys will hate me for moving what is essentially boxes and boxes of paper. Paper is heavy, Leaguers. Maybe not "box of lead" heavy, but it's almost water heavy. There's few things that runs a chill up my spine more than the look of desperation rolling over the face of the movers when they see my comics.
"Is that all books?"
"Comics."
"Comic... books?"
"Uhmmm... yes."
As much as they don't want to have to lift all that weight, I don't want for them to manhandle those boxes of precious, precious comics. Or my toys. Or, you know, my amazing statues.
Such is the fate of the mover who takes on our house. Sure, we're not exactly moving the Library at Alexandria, but I guess most people don't intentionally keep crates of paper around. Or books.
Dear Mr. Mover,
Please love my comics, too.
We met with our final realtor last night. The bottom line is that we should have sold last Spring if we wanted to make the big bucks. Now it's going to be a game of figuring out how to still make money, but price the house low enough that it can move faster than the other houses in our neighborhood. (our neighborhood has a total of 6 models, I believe, with 2 or 3 around our same square footage). So if we were to undercut everybody else, we might move our house a lot faster. I feel okay about that as I think all we're doing is beating everyone else already on the market to an inevitable sales point. On the other hand, we might also drive down the price of every house in our neighborhood.
Well, maybe they should have thought of that before they didn't talk to us for the past four years. Screw you, neighbors!
I just want to sell and go. Is that so wrong?
My boss posted my position yesterday. I was curious as to how the job would read, and while I would have flip-flopped the order of the responsibilities listed, I thought they came up with a surprisingly accurate description of what I do. Sort of. They didn't include the "Shadow Puppet Theatre" I like to do when the projector is turned on in the conference room.
The description also does not include that in April I was named the Assistant Fire Chief for my office. No, really. If our Admin Assistant is somehow unable to perform her Fire Chief duties, I am next on tap to usher my co-workers out of the building. Who shall convince the Director to get off the phone when the alarm goes off if not I? Because that happened back in February during an actual fire. Guy wouldn't get off the phone and there were flames in the elevator shaft. That, Leaguers, is dedication.
Jim D. has suggested I write a novel or meoir or something regarding the move. I have mixed feelings on this as I sincerely hope that nothing exciting enough to warrant a novel will happen during my move. Is it too much to hope for a smooth transition?
Hey, your lifestyle isn't as fabulous as it should be. No, seriously, trust me. It's not.
But you, yes, YOU can live la vida loca every day with items from the League of Melbotis Store!
Here's Loyal Leaguer Nathan Cone sporting his LoM threads and sipping his usual morning mix of wood grain alcohol and 409 from a niftier-than-all-heck LoM coffee mug.
See, Nathan's life is now way, way better.
So head on down to the LoM shop to see all the neat stuff you can get. it's not just League approved, it's League produced.
Shop Now!!!
But you, yes, YOU can live la vida loca every day with items from the League of Melbotis Store!
Here's Loyal Leaguer Nathan Cone sporting his LoM threads and sipping his usual morning mix of wood grain alcohol and 409 from a niftier-than-all-heck LoM coffee mug.
See, Nathan's life is now way, way better.
So head on down to the LoM shop to see all the neat stuff you can get. it's not just League approved, it's League produced.
Shop Now!!!
Wednesday, July 19, 2006
Mister Miracle
I talk a lot about Superman here at LoM, but as Jamie will roll her eyes and tell you, my interests go far beyond just The Man of Steel.
For some reason I've never been able to put a finger on, I dig Mister Miracle.
Mr. Miracle's story goes a little something like this:
Across a dimensional barrier and/ or in deep space, there are two planets constantly at war with one another: Apokolips, ruled by Darkseid, a despot who defies even the darkest definitions of cruelty and evil*, and New Genesis (capital, floating city: Supertown), a peaceful, green world which is inhabited by the New Gods and ruled by the benevolent hand of Highfather.
It doesn't take a master reader to decipher that Apokolips is where all the bad cosmic guys hang out and New Genesis is home to the celestial beings in white hats. It probably also won't come as a suprise that the stories surrounding the characters of what is called "Kirby's Fourth World" are usually broad in scope, but the currents always seem to run deeper than the slug fests you found in other comics.
One of the many characters which spun off from Kirby's Fourth World is Scott Free, aka: Mister Miracle. The son of Highfather, raised in the Armaghetto's of Apokolips, Scott Free dreamed of only one thing: escape.
The antithesis of the vision Darkseid has of crushing and subjugating the universe, Scott Free was the only being ever to escape from Darkseid's twisted planet. He came to Earth where he now uses his tremendous talent to entertain as showman, Mister Miracle, but also as a proud member of the JLA.
Mister Miracle is (and, again, I suggest you read his back story to find out why) THE WORLD'S GREATEST ESCAPE ARTIST!!!
You can read about Mister Miracle here (and I suggest you do. He has one of the coolest back stories in comicdom). And here (this one is better than Wikipedia's entry).
Today I feel like Mr. Miracle. Almost, but not quite. I feel like Mr. Miracle in this picture, anyway. I've voluntarily strapped myself onto a roaring rocket, bound for certain destruction, and even if I do get free of the rocket I'll be entering the stratosphere, bound for a free fall.
Today I am Mr. Miracle.
I hope.
See him strapped to that rocket, looking maybe a little stressed, but not overly concerned?
You know why?
He's Mister Miracle. He's survived the Orphanage of Granny Goodness, he's survived the firepits of Apokolips and he broke free of the world which stands outside space and time, existing to do nothing more than break the will of its denizens. In five seconds Scott will produce his multi-cube from his glove-pocket, shoot a laser into the tumbler of his manacles, do the same for his leg locks, leap clear of the rocket's flame and then float to freedom on his cape, which will have billowed out to become a parachute.
I never had any firepits or Granny Goodness breathing down my neck. The Admiral never swapped me off to his nemesis to resolve some ancient dispute. But today I want to be Mr. Miracle. I want to know that I'm going to jump free and clear in this whole contraption I've set for myself, touching down on solid earth with a wink and a nod to my faithful wife.
Today it's all about the complexity of the escape, but if Mister Miracle can make it fun, so can I. Right? Maybe?
As much as Orion, the Forever People and the New Gods always seemed so straight forward (well, maybe not The Forever People), Mister Miracle wasn't out to fight anybody outright. Instead, he was out to escape the unescapable, defy the undefiable.
Years later, Michael Chabon would refine the idea and produce the greatest superhero the world had never seen in The Escapist, the fictional comic character of his novel The Amazing Adventures of Kavalier and Clay.
And maybe I read too much of Chabon onto Mister Miracle. I'm not sure. It's possible Kirby never meant for Mister Miracle to be a walking allegory, but with Kirby, who the heck knows...?
All I know is that as surely as Scott Free dreamed and dreamed of breaking loose of the chains of Apokolips, I mean to shake off the dust of this one horse desert town. And if he can do it, then maybe I can do it. Just like Steven can do it. And maybe you can, too.
So for the next few months, if you see me donning a lot of red, yellow and green and occasionally trying to get put in a lock-box so some burly men can toss me over the rail of a ship, don't you worry about me. I'm just seeing exactly how you do this escaping thing.
*Readers of LoM may be interested to know Darkseid and Apokolips appeared in comics just a few years prior to Lucas coming up with Darth Vader and the Death Star. Lucas famously perused comics while coming up with his story. I've heard Kirby considered suing, but Lucas had tweaked the concepts enough that Kirby knew the passing similarities wouldn't hold up in court.
I talk a lot about Superman here at LoM, but as Jamie will roll her eyes and tell you, my interests go far beyond just The Man of Steel.
For some reason I've never been able to put a finger on, I dig Mister Miracle.
Mr. Miracle's story goes a little something like this:
Across a dimensional barrier and/ or in deep space, there are two planets constantly at war with one another: Apokolips, ruled by Darkseid, a despot who defies even the darkest definitions of cruelty and evil*, and New Genesis (capital, floating city: Supertown), a peaceful, green world which is inhabited by the New Gods and ruled by the benevolent hand of Highfather.
It doesn't take a master reader to decipher that Apokolips is where all the bad cosmic guys hang out and New Genesis is home to the celestial beings in white hats. It probably also won't come as a suprise that the stories surrounding the characters of what is called "Kirby's Fourth World" are usually broad in scope, but the currents always seem to run deeper than the slug fests you found in other comics.
One of the many characters which spun off from Kirby's Fourth World is Scott Free, aka: Mister Miracle. The son of Highfather, raised in the Armaghetto's of Apokolips, Scott Free dreamed of only one thing: escape.
The antithesis of the vision Darkseid has of crushing and subjugating the universe, Scott Free was the only being ever to escape from Darkseid's twisted planet. He came to Earth where he now uses his tremendous talent to entertain as showman, Mister Miracle, but also as a proud member of the JLA.
Mister Miracle is (and, again, I suggest you read his back story to find out why) THE WORLD'S GREATEST ESCAPE ARTIST!!!
You can read about Mister Miracle here (and I suggest you do. He has one of the coolest back stories in comicdom). And here (this one is better than Wikipedia's entry).
Today I feel like Mr. Miracle. Almost, but not quite. I feel like Mr. Miracle in this picture, anyway. I've voluntarily strapped myself onto a roaring rocket, bound for certain destruction, and even if I do get free of the rocket I'll be entering the stratosphere, bound for a free fall.
Today I am Mr. Miracle.
I hope.
See him strapped to that rocket, looking maybe a little stressed, but not overly concerned?
You know why?
He's Mister Miracle. He's survived the Orphanage of Granny Goodness, he's survived the firepits of Apokolips and he broke free of the world which stands outside space and time, existing to do nothing more than break the will of its denizens. In five seconds Scott will produce his multi-cube from his glove-pocket, shoot a laser into the tumbler of his manacles, do the same for his leg locks, leap clear of the rocket's flame and then float to freedom on his cape, which will have billowed out to become a parachute.
I never had any firepits or Granny Goodness breathing down my neck. The Admiral never swapped me off to his nemesis to resolve some ancient dispute. But today I want to be Mr. Miracle. I want to know that I'm going to jump free and clear in this whole contraption I've set for myself, touching down on solid earth with a wink and a nod to my faithful wife.
Today it's all about the complexity of the escape, but if Mister Miracle can make it fun, so can I. Right? Maybe?
As much as Orion, the Forever People and the New Gods always seemed so straight forward (well, maybe not The Forever People), Mister Miracle wasn't out to fight anybody outright. Instead, he was out to escape the unescapable, defy the undefiable.
Years later, Michael Chabon would refine the idea and produce the greatest superhero the world had never seen in The Escapist, the fictional comic character of his novel The Amazing Adventures of Kavalier and Clay.
And maybe I read too much of Chabon onto Mister Miracle. I'm not sure. It's possible Kirby never meant for Mister Miracle to be a walking allegory, but with Kirby, who the heck knows...?
All I know is that as surely as Scott Free dreamed and dreamed of breaking loose of the chains of Apokolips, I mean to shake off the dust of this one horse desert town. And if he can do it, then maybe I can do it. Just like Steven can do it. And maybe you can, too.
So for the next few months, if you see me donning a lot of red, yellow and green and occasionally trying to get put in a lock-box so some burly men can toss me over the rail of a ship, don't you worry about me. I'm just seeing exactly how you do this escaping thing.
*Readers of LoM may be interested to know Darkseid and Apokolips appeared in comics just a few years prior to Lucas coming up with Darth Vader and the Death Star. Lucas famously perused comics while coming up with his story. I've heard Kirby considered suing, but Lucas had tweaked the concepts enough that Kirby knew the passing similarities wouldn't hold up in court.
Tuesday, July 18, 2006
Sunday night we headed over to some friends' house for a sort-of "Well, we're leaving" chat and dinner. It's always been nice hanging with Ryan and Trisha, but two years ago they had a kid, and, up to this point, I had no idea that the reason people have kids is for the free entertainment.
Isaac is almost two. He's a wee man who likes to use his head as the base of a tripod before performing some awesome somersaults. He's mostly into Elmo and the Wiggles these days, but he's also into loose change and whatever chips he can get his mits on. He seems smarter than the average bear, which should surprise nobody whose ever met his folks. He's got somethign going on with his legs, and he needs braces right now, but he's two and he's like a combustible ball of energy, so what does he care about the braces? Isaac's still in motion.
As proof positive that Ryan N. is a quality dad, he's found a ceiling fan for Isaac's room that is the propellor of an F-4U Corsair, with the iamge of the Corsair on the ceiling. I am now jealous of a two year-old. Jamie will never let me put up that sort of fan in the bedroom.
We spoke with our first realtor on Sunday, and I liked her a lot. Having never sold a house before, it's hard to tell if someone is ripping you off or telling you things that you want to hear before they put the screws to you. We're taking a pass on a realtor we found online and we're talkign with a recommended realtor on Thursday.
Must get house on market. Must sell house.
I have 330 hours of vacation built up. Apparently, after speaking with higher powers this morning, most of that vacay will disappear into a howling void, just like my late 20's. I'll get something like a month paid out, but that's 160 of my 330 hours. I would have preferred a big old bag of gold coin, but what are you gonna do? My boss is trying to be cool about it and help me out.
As mentioned, I have no job lined up awaiting me in Austin. It would be nice were things otherwise, but they aren't. Fortunately. friends and Leaguers have already volunteered to come to my aid.
Not having a job lined up is not unknown to me. When I graduated I went months without full-time work. When I arrived in Phoenix, I had nothing in particular lined up. So finding out who will take me on becomes a waiting game. I don't mind interviewing. I guess I feel like I'm interviewing my potential empoyer to see if this would be, in fact, a good fit for me as well. If they feel I should be coming in grovelling, well, maybe me and that work place aren't going to get along too well.
My co-worker Juli asks me about once every six months: If money were no object, what would you do for a living?
The idea of the thought exercise is that you're supposed to come to some realization of your true calling, give up your work-a-day job and go chase that dream, whether it's driving a shrimp boat or auditioning for community theater. I have never, not once, come up with an answer to that question. It's too huge. And I think I'm painfully aware that aside from being Grand Sultan, every job is going to have it's drawbacks. And even Sultan's need a food taster to keep them from being poisoned by scheming underlings.
Two years after college, my parents and I were having a similar conversation, and at the time I responded that "I would like to do nothing. I would like to sleep late and stay up late and read. And watch TV. Probably a lot of Discovery Channel. And maybe, I dunno, go to Barton Springs when the weather was nice." Because at the time, that's what I wanted to do. My parents went into some sort of tizzy, my mother cursing my inherent sloth, my father lecturing me about the value of a good work ethic. But I think even I missed my point. It's not that I literally would be happy not working, or being a bum who lives somewhere near Zilker. I jist want to be able to do those things once in a while. And back then, I wasn't getting to do them.
I graduated with an RTF degree and it's not that I didn't want to work on films, it was that I didn't want to work on bad films. And dumb commercials. And corporate in-house birthday videos celebrating some poor schleb who would probably be fired when the stock took a downturn next quarter, anyway.
So I went to work for the state, figured I get a little money in my pocket and health insurance. And I really, really dug my office. My job was sort of goofy and it was okay. But I liked my co-workers and I liked what we did.
Since then, even with a new job in a different city, the work has been good to me, and I think I've been good to it. I think I'm actually effective at my job, and I think I make things run fairly smoothly.
So what do I want to do with my life? My options are open, Leaguers. I'm an open minded guy. I wish I could say "I am a CPA with five years' experience and am worth six-figures." But I'm not.
So what do I want to do with my life? I still want to sleep late on Saturdays and stay up late reading comics. I still want to watch Discovery Channel and hit the pool when it gets hot out.
I want to make things that I don't find embarassing. I want to be a part of a team of people who actually care about one another and the health of the office. I want to be a part of a team where people like what they're doing and who they're doing it for. I'm flexible. I'm happy as long as I'm busy.
I want to be able to laugh at the water cooler and wear jeans to work when I feel like it. And for nobody to worry about my Superman mouse-pad or my Batman clock.
I dunno. It's going to be fun. I'm looking forward to seeing what's out there. I feel like there's a world of opportunity. Hopefully nobody with better qualifications is going to beat me to the punch.
Isaac is almost two. He's a wee man who likes to use his head as the base of a tripod before performing some awesome somersaults. He's mostly into Elmo and the Wiggles these days, but he's also into loose change and whatever chips he can get his mits on. He seems smarter than the average bear, which should surprise nobody whose ever met his folks. He's got somethign going on with his legs, and he needs braces right now, but he's two and he's like a combustible ball of energy, so what does he care about the braces? Isaac's still in motion.
As proof positive that Ryan N. is a quality dad, he's found a ceiling fan for Isaac's room that is the propellor of an F-4U Corsair, with the iamge of the Corsair on the ceiling. I am now jealous of a two year-old. Jamie will never let me put up that sort of fan in the bedroom.
We spoke with our first realtor on Sunday, and I liked her a lot. Having never sold a house before, it's hard to tell if someone is ripping you off or telling you things that you want to hear before they put the screws to you. We're taking a pass on a realtor we found online and we're talkign with a recommended realtor on Thursday.
Must get house on market. Must sell house.
I have 330 hours of vacation built up. Apparently, after speaking with higher powers this morning, most of that vacay will disappear into a howling void, just like my late 20's. I'll get something like a month paid out, but that's 160 of my 330 hours. I would have preferred a big old bag of gold coin, but what are you gonna do? My boss is trying to be cool about it and help me out.
As mentioned, I have no job lined up awaiting me in Austin. It would be nice were things otherwise, but they aren't. Fortunately. friends and Leaguers have already volunteered to come to my aid.
Not having a job lined up is not unknown to me. When I graduated I went months without full-time work. When I arrived in Phoenix, I had nothing in particular lined up. So finding out who will take me on becomes a waiting game. I don't mind interviewing. I guess I feel like I'm interviewing my potential empoyer to see if this would be, in fact, a good fit for me as well. If they feel I should be coming in grovelling, well, maybe me and that work place aren't going to get along too well.
My co-worker Juli asks me about once every six months: If money were no object, what would you do for a living?
The idea of the thought exercise is that you're supposed to come to some realization of your true calling, give up your work-a-day job and go chase that dream, whether it's driving a shrimp boat or auditioning for community theater. I have never, not once, come up with an answer to that question. It's too huge. And I think I'm painfully aware that aside from being Grand Sultan, every job is going to have it's drawbacks. And even Sultan's need a food taster to keep them from being poisoned by scheming underlings.
Two years after college, my parents and I were having a similar conversation, and at the time I responded that "I would like to do nothing. I would like to sleep late and stay up late and read. And watch TV. Probably a lot of Discovery Channel. And maybe, I dunno, go to Barton Springs when the weather was nice." Because at the time, that's what I wanted to do. My parents went into some sort of tizzy, my mother cursing my inherent sloth, my father lecturing me about the value of a good work ethic. But I think even I missed my point. It's not that I literally would be happy not working, or being a bum who lives somewhere near Zilker. I jist want to be able to do those things once in a while. And back then, I wasn't getting to do them.
I graduated with an RTF degree and it's not that I didn't want to work on films, it was that I didn't want to work on bad films. And dumb commercials. And corporate in-house birthday videos celebrating some poor schleb who would probably be fired when the stock took a downturn next quarter, anyway.
So I went to work for the state, figured I get a little money in my pocket and health insurance. And I really, really dug my office. My job was sort of goofy and it was okay. But I liked my co-workers and I liked what we did.
Since then, even with a new job in a different city, the work has been good to me, and I think I've been good to it. I think I'm actually effective at my job, and I think I make things run fairly smoothly.
So what do I want to do with my life? My options are open, Leaguers. I'm an open minded guy. I wish I could say "I am a CPA with five years' experience and am worth six-figures." But I'm not.
So what do I want to do with my life? I still want to sleep late on Saturdays and stay up late reading comics. I still want to watch Discovery Channel and hit the pool when it gets hot out.
I want to make things that I don't find embarassing. I want to be a part of a team of people who actually care about one another and the health of the office. I want to be a part of a team where people like what they're doing and who they're doing it for. I'm flexible. I'm happy as long as I'm busy.
I want to be able to laugh at the water cooler and wear jeans to work when I feel like it. And for nobody to worry about my Superman mouse-pad or my Batman clock.
I dunno. It's going to be fun. I'm looking forward to seeing what's out there. I feel like there's a world of opportunity. Hopefully nobody with better qualifications is going to beat me to the punch.
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