Friday, February 16, 2007

Best Movie... Ever?

Could the upcoming live action adaptation of Underdog be the greatest movie ever?

We'll see...

Thursday, February 15, 2007

The Era Resumes

Sometimes (when you're single) you meet a really nice girl. She's pretty, and she's funny, and she even agrees with you that Trompe Le Monde by The Pixies is a pretty good album, when everyone else in the world thinks it wasn't a great effort. You have a good first date, and you think "Wow, this is it!"

At he beginning she mentioned she liked mountain biking, and while you weren't that into mountain biking, you thought "That's fine! I can go mountain biking every once in a while. We love The Pixies!" But then when you go out the next time, all she talks about is how you're going to go mountain biking. She talks about tire types, changing tires, handle grips and certain kinds of dirt on certain kinds of paths.

So, you bring up The Pixies, and you realize the only Pixies album she actually owns is Trompe Le Monde.

Figuring it's a fluke, you try again and she insists on actually going mountain biking. So you figure, "Ah, that's okay. I can try this."

So you go mountain biking. And while you've ridden a bike before, you aren't keeping up because, honestly, who takes a two-wheeled vehicle under your own power into rocky terrain?

You go out again, and it's more mountain biking. More talk of mountain biking. More trails and rocks. Anyway, she's being sort of encouraging.

But you realize, "She doesn't just like her mountain biking, she NEEDS to go mountain biking." So as pretty and funny as she is, and even though she also likes Trompe Le Monde (in her own way) you realize that maybe this isn't such a good idea.

And so, anyway, you call it off sort of abruptly. No doubt she's pissed. After all, you liked biking, didn't you?

So you're single again, and you sort of talked her up to everyone, so what does that make you?

Wednesday, February 14, 2007

Tired

The new job continues apace. I'm still trying to adapt to a new environment, names, people, ideas, alphabet soup and cube life.

Mostly I spent the first two days completely exhausted and jittery on caffeine. I also feel completely out of touch with the world as personal e-mail is still something I'm not sure is okay, no "web surfing" in the office (even during lunch, I guess...), and I'm not really picking up the phone. Still the new guy. Gotta look crazy busy, and I am.

Poor Jamie. I took her out to dinner last night, and I know I was a million miles away the entire time. We went to Austin-fave-spot Castle Hill in our attempt to do something nice for a change. I just didn't think i was very good company.

Today, at least, I am not totally exhausted. I remember this from starting the job in PHX. I was tired for most of the first month, and then one day my body adjusted to the lack of sleep, I settled in, and got used to things in general. It'll happen again. It's just going to take time.

Poor Lucy is very upset by my return to work. Mel is, too, but he seems to understand what is going on, while Lucy has spent 1/5th of her life with me at home for her amusement. Her clock is off as she's waking up when I get up. And today Mel actually came and got me out of bed as I tried to squeeze in five more minutes of sleep. Apparently he wanted to be fed and would not be denied.


I saw an article that mentioned a ton of bands are going back out on tour, including Van Halen and The Police. There's an odd generational thing that happens every decade where the folks who were kids or teenagers during a certain decade is able to somehow relive their past, now that they've got an income and will pay out the nose to see their bands. In the 70's, 50's music was big. In the 80's, the Summer of Love generations pilt no small amount of ink telling us how great it had been and making sure the "oldies" and classic rock stations played 60's faves. In teh 90's we all uffered through a revival of the Village People and Disco nostaglia. And now we're getting the Police and Van halen (I'm sorry you Hagar fans, Van Halen is an 80's band).

There was some commentary about the "sad" state of music that we have to pull from a catalog that's 20 years old to build concensus, but that's not necessarily a bad thing. Those bands didn't just pay their dues, they're still selling records twenty years after they broke up. Where's the NKOTB reunion tour? Weren't we once told they were bigger tan the Beatles?


Hop everyone is having a good Valentine's Day.

Monday, February 12, 2007

Weekend/ First Day of Work

Friday Night Jamie and I headed North by Northwest to sup with JAL and his lovely wife, Tania. JAL and I go back almost as far as The League and Peabo. Curiously, JAL lives in N. Austin, but works very close to League HQ, in fact between The Hopalong Lounge and the House of Peabo. I shall begin working to convince him to join us in the 78745/04 area with all due speed.

The JAL's are a fun couple, and we had a lovely evening, even if we got a little droopy early in the evening and had to call the night just prior to JAL's knife tricks.

Saturday was relatively uneventful, but Cassidy joined us for some fun. I had planned to organize my comics for sale to Austin Books (no, not all of them), but then I realized I had to make a list of the stuff I was getting rid of so my database would be accurate, so I did that instead of anything productive. Plus, FedEx delivered a box of meat to our house, but the meat was for some other guy. Jamie called FedEx and explained to them our meat situation. So now we have this random box of meat sitting in the fridge as FedEx is tasked with tracking down the true owner of the meat.

Hit Threadgill's for catfish and okra. Then to Jason's where we watched Ghost Ship, a fairly awful haunted house movie with a terribly misused Julianna Marguiles and Gabriel Byrne. What fascinated me (and JackBart should take note) was that you could almost see the half-way decent movie that might have existed had Joel Silver not been attached to the project. Instead, you sort of get "movie in a can". Five characters explain their two-dimensional motivations in pointless explosition, enter haunted house, pretty girl survives. Just as in the 90's remake of "The Haunting", nobody on this picture understood the concept of "less is more".

Sunday I bought a cowboy hat. It's true. I bought a straw Stetson at Cavender's Boot City. Jason does not like my hat. But I do. I think it looks sharp. He also decried my plan to buy silver-toed cowboy boots with fancy bluebonnets stitched into the leather.

Dinner at Hunan, where I am becoming BFF with the waitress, Sue. Me and Sue are becoming big pals, and to prove it, Sue hooked Jamie up with some extra rice last night. It's nice that I like their food, but when I feel like a regular somewhere, I'm ten times likelier to hit that place up when we go out. I expected to be a regular by now at Casa G's, but I think the place is so full of frequent flyers that everyone is a regular.

I could not sleep last night, and so I stayed up far too late finishing my weekly comic reviews and working on my HR paperwork for the new job. Then, I just lay awake. After keeping a nocturnal schedule for the past few months, getting up at 6:15 for work hit me like a sledgehammer. I have some apologizing to do tomorrow. I was so @#$%ing tired, I was ready to fall asleep all day.

So far so good. It's my first job where my office isn't sort of in the thick of town, so I will have to get used to being out on 360. I may also have a window in my cube (sort of like some of the cubes at my office in AZ, OH). I will miss having an office, and apparently there's a strict "no surfing" policy which is fairly well policed, which is kind of creepy. I found myself wondering today if my Google searches were being monitored as I looked up some information on some B2B systems.

All in all, the job looks very promising, and the folks in the surrounding cubes seem like some decent joes and janes. Plus, forty minutes in to work today in fog and rain, and 30+ minutes home in sunshine. I used to have an hour home for my five mile drive from Briar Street to UT. This is a commute I can handle.

I'm off to bed.

You kids be good.

Sunday, February 11, 2007

Previous to Hollywoodland

The feature film "Hollywoodland" was originally entitled "Truth, Justice and the American Way". Warner Bros. money was tied up in the film, and with Superman Returns expected to become a cultural phenomenon (along the lines of "Spider-Man" or "Pirates of the Carribbean"), the Super-Friendly title was changed. That said, "Hollywoodland" rolls off the tongue a bit better, anyway, unless you're making goo-goo eyes at spunky reporters.

In the next few days, Hollywoodland will be arriving in my mailbox via Netflix, and I'll watch the movie.

Here's the deal: In the past year or so, I've become quite a fan of George Reeves' Superman/ Clark Kent. As genuine as I continue to find Christopher Reeve's performance as a Man of Steel with a heart of glass, and as much as I think Brandon Routh was the right guy for the emotionally battered Superman of "Superman Returns"...

George Reeves Superman is the Superman that I watch and think "That's a Superman I can relate to!" Looking kind of paunchy in a fairly home-made looking suit, bemused by the guys shooting at me, making lots of comments regarding my dual identity at my co-worker's expense, and, of course, winking at the camera... I dare you to watch those episodes and NOT like Reeves (or, really, the whole cast).

The official story is that George Reeves killed himself, but ever since Reeves died, there have been suggestions that perhaps it wasn't Reeves who put the gun to his own head. And, I guess, that's more or less what the movie explores.

But I recently read an interview with Noel Neill in which she expresses her disappointment regarding the film. I highly recommend reading the interview here.

As infrequently as the newspapers or television seem to get a story right as it's breaking, what chance do filmmakers have of digging up much of the truth fifty years later?

So I'll watch the film. But I'll watch it with a certain eye of skepticism. Reeves' early death was tragic, no matter how it truly occured. I suppose it's somehow easier to think of the smiling Superman coming to an end not of his own doing than to think, as the movie posits, that the show and the character were what eventually led to his death.

Those are two very different stories, if there's a lesson to be garnered from all this. And it seems that there's not agreement even among those who knew Reeves during his final years, as to what may have happened.


More to follow when I've actually seen the movie...

Friday, February 09, 2007

Edward James Olmos Toy

Okay. It's actually a BSG toy. But that doesn't mean it's not totally awesome.



and for Randy and Reed...

what's up with the painted on boobs?

Thursday, February 08, 2007

90210 Confession

In the Fall of 1993, Peabo and I shared a 10x10 cell in Jester West. My TV viewing habits were significantly different from Peabo's prior to college. Essentially, I never watched TV after 5:00pm. I was not someone who felt they grew up with the Huxtable Family, or who knew every beat of every episode of Cheers. In fact, the KareBear had pretty firm rules regarding TV consumption on week nights when I was a kid, and I consequently never got into the habit of watching "prime time" programming until Peabo introduced me to Seinfeld that same year.

That is not to say I didn't watch TV. In the summers I watched hours and hours of Beverly Hillbillies reruns on KBVO, The Price is Right, and Sale of the Century. I was 12, but I had the viewing habits of a man 7 times my age.

I still think Ellie May is kind of funny.

I remember being vaguely aware of 90210 coming to TV. At the time I remember looking upon the program with the same suspicion that I looked upon any show I felt had pigeonholed me as a demographic. Plus, who could relate to the characters and storylines of a bunch of kids doing very un-High School-like activities, rolling in cash, and for whom life was pretty much already set?

A few kids at KOHS started sporting sideburns in tribute to Luke Perry or Jason Priestly. Fashion dolls found their way to the shelves of the toy aisle at the grocery, and I found out my prom date was a closet 90210 fan.

Now, to be honest, I wasn't exactly free from being hit as a target demographic. I watched more than my fair share of "Saved by the Bell", thanks to my pre-Show Girls interest in Jessie Spano. But when I completed high school, it was my plan to put all of that behind me.

So when Peabo announced it was 90210 night in my first fall of college, and that he would be watching 90210 whether I liked it or not, I packed my bag and headed to the library for a few hours to study for an Oceanography quiz. I was a serious college student with no time for the bobble-heads of the 90210 universe. Where was their angst? Where was their genuine human drama? To my dismay, Peabo was joined by my pals Beno and Julio, who both confessed to knowing quite a bit about the show.

I did not yet understand the genius behind "Donna Martin graduates."

It was a few weeks later that I had studying that could be put off and not wanting to leave my own dorm room when my friends were hanging out that I watched my first episode.

What I had not understood was that 90210 was a soap opera. Whether you liked the characters or felt any sympathy towards a single one of them was incidental to putting the characters in the most abso-ludicrous positions possible and then react with a straight face while making decisions that were (a) absolutely repugnant, but (b) created the most room for TV-soap drama.

Soon the crowd grew to include a few other folks from our floor, and Peabo began to keep a stack of disposable plastic cups on hand. At some point someone (I think Julio) had become so disgusted with the characters, he threw a cup at the screen. And so it came to pass that we all were armed with plastic cups with which to voice our displeasure in a manner approximating physical violence toward the characters for their boneheaded decision making.

What I recall most from those episodes was that character Kelly Taylor was positioned as the heroine of the program, but either because actress Jennie Garth was a passive-aggressive jerk in real life or because Jennie Garth wasn't much of an actress and thusly defaulted to angry at every opportunity, Kelly spent her episodes pouting every time another character disagreed with her. And because the show invariably vindicated Kelly Taylor, it seemed the longtime viewers of the program could not see through her veil of lies, when to eyes unfamiliar with the show she whined until the whinee could not longer stand it and gave in. (Oh, how I hate Kelly Taylor...)

Recently, Jamie figured out that 90210 runs for two hours every day on Soapnet. So there's been a LOT of 90210 viewing going on at my house of late. We're about 2/3rds of the way through the first year of college (the last season any character was seen to crack a book or go to class). And what I've realized is that all of the characters of 90210 are complete sociopaths. These characters inflict untold harm upon each other, and coccasionally complete strangers. They're elitist, snobby bastards who all seem completely put-out when any work is written into the show for them, and they join and drop campus-causes on a bi-episode basis.

In order to create drama, items like the school newspaper are blown up to NY Times proportions, and second semester freshman are seen as a plausible and persuasive voice within the university infrastructure. The show is absolutely awful, and embarassing. And yet, I cannot look away.

Part of the allure of the game now is that I did follow the program for two or three seasons, plastic cup in hand, and I know what drama befalls the characters. So, when the characters (such as Kelly Taylor) get up on their moral pedestal and preach down to the lowlies, you can remind them "hey, you develop a horrible coke habit in two more seasons. How about a little compassion?"

The "teens" of the show are absurdly old, in absurd situations faced by no prior college freshman in the age of man, and are far less worried about academics than even the guys who didn't come back after Christmas freshman year in Jester.

Jim and Cindy Walsh are supposedly successful corporate something-or-others, but theire really there to salute the two Walsh-children characters and to appear bemused but concerned. A thankless role, the two departed towards the end of teh college years.

And, of course, there's always Nat, played by fourth-string central casting bench warmer, Joe E. Tata. I am sure Mr. Tata has lots of credits to his name, but that poor dude had more humiliating scenes bowing and scraping before the teens of 90210 than I am sure he likes to think about.

That, and it's fun to say "Joe E. Tata" every time he appears on screen.

Upon re-watching the episodes, it seems that the writers were alternately not really trying, or had a mountain of contempt for their own characters. And who can blame them? Why not send the whiney DJ/ wanna-be hip-hop Beverly Hills dork on a whacked out Crystal Meth spree? Why not let the eye-brow wiggling Kerouac-dork get ripped off by his former step-mom? It's a soap opera, and nobody stays happy for long on a soap.

So I say, huzzah for 90210. You set out to fulfill a certain vision, you set the bar incredibly low, and you still failed to in many regards. But you did bring the world Tori Spelling, and for that, we are all eternally grateful.

Comic Posts

I know you care, so I thought I'd share...
There's some comic reviews up which are beyond compare.

Thanks to Jim D.'s suggestion I went ahead and posted on the Action Comics Annual released yesterday.

Also, see Part 1 of my amazing, rambling series: A Masters in DC Universe, a Minor in Wildstorm

Wednesday, February 07, 2007

End of an Era

As of Monday, The League returns to the drudgery of the work force. My status as a hobo has been rescinded.

Alas.

No more staying up until 3:00 AM reading funny books and teaching Jeff the Cat how to Flamenco dance. That's gonna have to happen between 10:00 and 11:00 from now on. Nor shall there be any more getting up and watching News8 and Headline News throughout the morning as I eat my Grape Nuts, check e-mail and hit the job boards. (I confess, I am not going to miss hitting the job boards.)

The position is one heck of an opportunity. Longtime Leaguers will know that, as a rule, I don't talk about work. But is it okay to say really good things? I can say the job is outside of the realm of public institutions of higher education. It's relatively close to League HQ. The folks seem really nice who I'll be working with, and I'm going to be only a small hop from Rudy's BBQ. The job let's me do what I like to do, with an eye on growth. I know who my customers are, and there's no question of how I'm reaching them. The organization does something I think serves the public interest, so I get to be a tiny cog in that machine.

In short, I'm really looking forward to my role as a lion tamer at the Austin Zoo.

(are there lion tamers any more? How do you train for that? There seems to be little room for error.)

So, you know, a job. That's the dream, isn't it? I like money, and it turns out that you really need it to get by in our post-industrial society. Apparently the city of Asutin talks a good game, but at the end of the day, they want for me to pay for water and trash collection. So much for them being MY representatives.

Stupid money.

Anyway, it was a good run of unemployment, and I really fulfilled my Office Space dream of doing absolutely nothing. Unfortunately, my dream was somewhat hampered by the NBA not playing daytime games during the week. Nor was the World Cup on. And baseball doesn't start until late spring.

Still, it was a good run.

So, yeah. I got a job.

Tuesday, February 06, 2007

space love

Coming up, find out how Lisa Nowak went from operating a robot arm in space to driving 900 miles in a diaper. - what I woke up to this morning on CNN.

Ah, love.

This is just one more reason we should consider using more robots for space exploration.

Robots do not know the pain of love. Or do they? Do they, indeed?

Monday, February 05, 2007

Updated Terror Threat Color-System



found at The Beat

weekend

Yesterday was kind of kooky. Jamie is finally feeling better after a few weeks of being down. It was nothing too serious, but I think we're both glad she's back up on her feet and peppy again.

We did some tidying in the morning, then grabbed lunch with Jason at Jason's Deli (no relation). It's becoming kind of a thing to make sure Cassidy gets some face time each weekend with Mel and Lucy, so we got the dogs in the car (Dog is my co-pilot) and released the hounds to the backyard.

The Admiral and Karebear are considering moving to Austin when they retire (which will only enhance the power of The League), and so were in town to think a bit about their future plans and look at homes. We grabbed a quick drink at Trudy's, then went and looked at a development they'd checked out on 71. Neat stuff, but I have no idea if that's what they'll end up doing.

Saturday night we headed over to Juan D's place for a grown up dinner party. I made excellent friends with Juan's bat-eared dog, Levi, by feeding Levi pieces of bread and ham all through the night. Got to see Beta-Juan Garcia, his lovely wife Letty, Matt and Nicole, Candian Sarah and her Canadian friend. We're now apparently too old to just show up, start drinking beer and get in vicious debates over operating systems as we did in years of yore. Now it's civilized. Sort of.

Woke up, had brunch with Cousin Sue and the folks at Hyde Park Grill South. Said our good-byes, then Jamie and I came home and tidied-up some. Did some minor yard work and stood around in the front yard with the other guys on the street, all of us in awe of the amazingly good weather (it was 70, sunny and a bit breezy). I think I committed to going in on a bunch of grass pallettes with a few of us, but that's okay. We need new grass for the backyard.

We did our Superbowl Shopping Trip (I bought frozen White Castle burgers for the first time). We were invited to a Superbowl Party, but I knew Jason was en route and probably didn't want to sit in my neighbor's garage to watch the game.

Steven and Lauren joined us after the Prince half-time show, and we chatted through the second half and into a repeat of Puppy Bowl III.

Anyway, it's been a long, good weekend.

Inbetween all that, I talked to Jim D on the phone, talked to RHPT via e-mail (it's a long story, but I now own www.leagueofmelbotis.com... I just can't make it work with Blogger until Blogger updates some features. nonetheless, RHPT gets mad props.)

I was cheering for the Colts, so the game was fun for me. Jamie cheered for "points", so she cheered when someone almost scored or did score. I don't think anyone else had much invested. Except Cassidy, who loves The Bears.

Weird game. That one will probably have Superbowl Committees looking toward domed stadiums for future selections. What a wet, icky mess of a game for the first half.

I have been staying up working on my weekly reviews for Comic Fodder (now! With pictures!).

It is late. I am tired.

Hope you had a good weekend.

Friday, February 02, 2007

May The League recommend...

The Sarah Silverman Program

It's not often I feel uncomfortable watching a program, but still really enjoy watching it.

Actually, that's not entirely true. That's sort of how I feel watching most of the Adult Swim line-up.

And I also felt miserably hypocritical watching the the new Comedy Central show "The Sarah Silverman Program". I'm pretty sure the "Sarah" of the show is supposed to be on meds. And I'm pretty sure this show can't air before 10:00 on basic cable.



Also, there should be more singing on TV outside of American Idol.

It's not so much one moment or two moments that made the first episode particularly good, it was more the feeling of people who had an idea able to get their weird, half-ass'd show on the air and do whatever they wanted to do without a lot of fuss from the outside.

Portions of the show are probably not as funny to me as they might have been once, but I look forward to seeing what the next few episodes are like.


30 Rock

I have a semi-long-standing crush on Tina Fey. And have harbored a deep admiration for Alec Baldwin ever since The Shadow (yes, I love The Shadow. Shut up).

So, yes, of course I tuned in to 30 Rock. NBC has let this show grow and find it's way. And this week, the episode fetaured guest star Paul Reubens (a man who knows how to committ to a part) and Isabella Rossellini, who still is doing an excellent job of maintaining what her mother's genes gave her.

There's enough of a cast to mix things up from week to week, and its not turning into a comedy that is going to hamstring itself with a "Ross & Rachel" type scenario that always makes me go running from shows both comedy and drama.

Some folks are going to keep pointing to Studio 60, but as Studio 60 re-creates itself as a romantic dramedy to fend off cancellation, I'll continue watching the show that I believe is probably far closer to the truth of how things work back stage at a comedy show.

Mooninite Enablers Address the 4th Estate

I wish I had the presence of mind to do this sort of thing when my entire future is in the balance.

Thursday, February 01, 2007

The League tells you about love

Hello Leaguers. It's that magical time of year once again when young love blossoms, roses are in bloom, cherubs fill the air and everyone is but one magical evening away from romance.

I've been married for some time, and as such, I think I have a pretty good idea regarding how love works. So, here's some unwarranted advice I have for all the single-folk out there when it comes to how you can make Valentine's Day better:

Stow it.

Seriously.

Every year the blogosphere and work-time lunch conversations are filled with the nattering of the dateless and unmarried making as if their Totino's-For-One Valentine's Day should somehow be equated with the plight of an oppressed peoples. There's invariably a lot of talk about how the valentine cards and expensive dinners are but reminders of how others are blissfully in love, while the single-folk dwell in loveless solitude.

Look, I am very sorry you miss out on this holiday. I imagine it must be horrible, all the not spending money on gifts that will never see the light of day again, or waiting in line for two hours at some mediocre Italian place. Or the watching of whatever you want to watch on TV. The lack of "constructive" criticism from a mate, and all the nobody telling you that you don't look awesome in your homemade Hawkman outfit.

If you really want a Valentine's Day that's not going to make you feel all squooshy inside, then, for God's sake, cowboy up and ask someone out. Quit your crying and find some movie times and ask someone out. But do it well before Valentine's Day as that holiday is NOT a good day for a first date.

Keep in mind: The worst they can do is say no.

Well, the worst they can do is say "maybe", then string you along for a while so they have a chance to tell all their friends what a pathetic loser you are so all their friends can watch as you fumble along behind them, believing they might like you when, really, they think you're a worm. But if you picked a girl who was going to do that, your date selection needs some work.


this sort of flower is about to get stupidly expensive

Bear in mind, nobody ever had a great Valentine's Day by deciding nobody was going to go out with them. And crying about it doesn't exactly make anyone feel particularly sorry for you. Certainly not me.

I've been married seven years, and been associated with Jamie for more than eleven years. The truth is: Valentine's Day is for High Schoolers. It's a time to give Peggy Sue a teddy bear she can keep on her pink bedspread (until she dumps you two weeks into Freshman year of college), and to play grown-up when you wear your church pants and go all by yourself to the Olive Garden.

My hard-gained wisdom tells me that most folks on the other side of your Hallmark-laden nightmare do not care too much about Valentine's Day. I think we usually exchange store-bought cards on Valentine's Day, watch a re-run of "Scrubs" and then go get a Gyro or something some other day.

And here's the real deal for why I'm never too psyched about Valentine's Day: For dudes, Valentine's Day is a one-way gift street. This evening I saw a Zales commercial wherein a gentleman was examining a $500 trinket he'd purchased for his lady-love and smiling coyly to himself. Here's my issue: I am betting the lady-love did NOT spend $500 getting him a PS3 or new rims for his El Camino. One way gift street.

Many will object at this point and wish to sheepishly point out that supposedly there's snugglebunnies involved. Look, Leaguers... there's a name for that kind of transaction. I don't care what day it is.

When I was but a lad and working one of my three amazing summers at The Disney Store Willowbrook Mall, a family would come into the shop on a regular basis. Dad was a bald, chubby dude with a nicely trimmed mustache, and he'd be walking behind three kids, lined up like ducklings. At the front of the line was Mom. Mom was obviously born with some severe birth defects as her legs and arms had not fully developed, and, thusly, she was confined to a motorized wheel-chair.

Upon seeing the family, I remember thinking: That lady probably grew up thinking she may never meet someone who would see her for who she was. She may have cried herself to sleep after her own mother, hoping to be helpful, told her that nobody would ever want to really get to know her. You know, like in a Sir-Mix-A-Lot-XXX-Throwdown sense. But, somehow, these two crazy kids had found each other and raised a brood of miserable little hellspawn who would knock all the merchandise off the shelves.

The point is: Sure, you probably know it's a lot of self-loathing on Valentine's Day which has kept you from getting around to asking out that lady at the coffee shop or that guy who puts luggage in the bottom of the plane. But nobody is going to do that for you. Except for me. If you ask, I'm happy to do it. Or even if you don't. Really, it's best I never know if you're interested in someone as I'll just make you miserable until you get a date or they shoot you down. That's just how I roll.

But as we enter February, and I see the cards at Target and I reflect upon this completely made up day of romance... it's mostly the energy spent on the lonely-guy/gal nattering that drives The League insane. Nobody is persecuting you. Nobody but geeky teenagers is really enjoying Valentine's Day. Many of us are dreading spending this much money when we just paid off the Visa from Christmas. And nobody is stopping you from asking anyone out. Cowboy up.

And if they do turn you down, have a choice B and choice C lined up.

Wednesday, January 31, 2007

Multiple Things (Updated)

RIP Molly Ivins

Your voice will be sorely missed in the Lone Star State.



Boston Powerless before scourge of the Mooninites

It seems that electronic ads featuring the Mooninites were mistaken for bombs or something.

CNN story here.

Hilarity here.


can you see this? because I'm doing it as hard as I can

The devices displayed one of the "Mooninites," outer-space delinquents who make frequent appearances on the cartoon, greeting passersby with a raised middle finger. Nine were reported around Boston on Wednesday, sending police bomb squads scrambling and snarling traffic and mass transit in one of the largest U.S. cities.

Boston police spokeswoman Elaine Driscoll called Wednesday's incidents "a colossal waste of money." She had no immediate comment on whether any laws were broken but said police would investigate further.


Thanks to an erratic schedule and my love of anthropomorphic food, I'm more than a little familiar with Aqua Teen Hunger Force. So, perhaps the APD would do well to keep me on staff for just such an Aqua Teen-related emergency, or emergencies related to Space Ghost or Sea Lab 2021.

And now, an example of someone taking out their personal embarassment as rage:

Scaring an entire region, tying up the T and major roadways, and forcing first responders to spend 12 hours chasing down trinkets instead of terrorists is marketing run amok," Markey, a Democrat, said in a written statement. "It would be hard to dream up a more appalling publicity stunt.


Curiously, not a single stoner, geek or insomniac felt threatened. Go figure.

Luckily, I am sure everyone will maintain a level head about this.

oh, wait... They've actually arrested someone in relation to the rogue electronic signs.

I am unclear WHY the Boston police thought the Mooninites were a threat (well, I am sure the Mooninites would like to believe they are a threat). These are pretty clearly signs. I do not stop and believe every metal box I see is a bomb, but I also have not been through terror-response training.

I am sure there's a lesson here that probably could be summed up with the fact that our nation has a color-coded terror threat scale.

It's good to know that we're all now one poorly placed sign away from being charged with terrorism.

And for those of you still living in a world where you do not know what a Mooninite is:




Action Comics Annual #10

I wasn't all that excited about DC's fill-in for February's Action Comics miss (this is after no new Action Comics in January OR February). But DC wisely put out a preview for the Annual, and it looks pretty cool.

It should be a good one for your pull list. The format of the comic follows the format of traditional "giant" Superman annuals and issues from years past, with all the different stories highlighted on the cover. (Also used in "Superman Family").


Comic Fodder

Apparently I was one of many who got bent out of shape about DC editor Eddie Berganza's DC Nation column last week.

Still, it got me some much needed traffic on Comic Fodder.

Since then I've done two days worth of DC reviews and a post on when weekly comics go wrong.

I don't think Jamie actually ever reads what I write on Comic Fodder. I saw her reading it, like, a week ago. But I think that's the first time she'd ever checked it out. It's probably good that way. I take what everyone else says as constructive criticism, but when Jamie offers me anything, I feel like I totally screwed up. I don't know what the difference is.

And it's also been a reminder that the interweb is a public place. Some guy out there refered to me as a "goon", even after agreeing with me. Apparently my prose style can use some work.


Mom and Dad, i heart you

Apparently my parents are concerned that I no longer call as often as I once did. A few factors:

1) I no longer have a 45 minute commute. I'm unemployed. I don't have a period in my day when I know I will be on the road listening to you or "Marketplace" on NPR. When I am on teh road, it's no longer a completely straight line as it was in AZ. Plus, driving and talking = dangerous.
2) I am actually busier here than in Arizona. I no longer spend Friday, Saturday and Sunday watching VH1's celeb-reality proigramming, hoping someone will call to break up the boredom. I now DVR the celeb-reality programming and watch it while you're at work.
3) You people are never home. Did you know that?
4) I am unemployed. I have very little to discuss aside from what Jason has usually already told you about. He was there for most of it.

So if I'm not on the phone all the time, I'm sorry. If I'm not here when you call, I may actually have left the house, unlike AZ.

It does not mean your younger son does not think the world of you.

Tuesday, January 30, 2007

Monday, January 29, 2007

No Post

Nothing happened today.

Lucy is driving me insane.

Update:

I have posted reviews to last week's comics at Comic Fodder.

Is Carolina lurking at my blog? Say hi. Send an e-mail. Call. Something. It's been a while.

The last two movies I watched were: Jesse James meets Frankenstein's Daughter, and The Punisher. Something has gone very wrong in my life.

I am sort of excited about Windows Vista. You know how you get excited about the new TV season because you sort of hope that THIS year they'll come up with something you can watch? Even though they usually don't? It's sort of like that. It's like birthdays when you reach middle school and you quit getting Transformers and start getting Knights of the Round Table shirts in weird colors you never would have picked out yourself. I guess I'm always up for anything new.

That said, I'm not buying anything with Vista on it for six months, minimum.

I have an underbite. Sometimes it bothers me. When I close my mouth, my top teeth touch my bottom teeth. I could probably get it fixed as my father-in-law has been known to straighten a tooth or three, but 99.5% of the time, I don't think about it. But I bet he stares at it, knowing exactly what he'd do to fix it. Well, I shall be the teeth that got away.

Lucy is now asleep.

Jason has gone into radio silence since Saturday. I need to fit him with a bell.

Mel is usually asleep. Sometimes he chases the ball. Down the stairs. Add the cat to the stairwell, and hilarity ensues.

Sunday, January 28, 2007

Arden Snow Prep


the indignities of the snow suit

Billy Bush is a PodPerson

We've had a lovely weekend at League HQ.

Friday night I headed over to Pat's for HD Movie night. Of course, Pat lured me over with an HD copy of "Superman II: the Richard Donner Cut". We also watched a few minutes of SuperPup (provided by yours truly), a few Superman cartoons, and a couple of HD programs. "Three Sheets" is a travel show following a lush as he goes from lovely vacation spot to lovely vacation spot sampling local booze. The guy is clearly in need of an intervention, but that doesn't mean the show isn't a lot of fun. It also reminded me I haven't been to the beach since November '01. Damn. They also have a show which is just swimsuit models on the beach.

This sort of shortcuts a business plan my former co-worker, Tom, once pitched to me: The Beach Channel. 24 cameras pointing at beaches, one in each time zone, and we rotate beaches once an hour. Sure, it's more of a screen saver than a show, but we'd also license steel drum music or something to make it work.

Saturday we had brunch with Jason at Maudie's, then re-grouped at his place with the dogs. The Austin weather was perfect. Sunny, breezy, and cool, and I wanted to do something outside. I had throwing a frisbee around in mind, but Jason reminded me that there was a march going on downtown, so we got all political and went and did that.

Then we wrapped up the night at Mandy's with Jason, Greg Johnson, a smoking chiminea and some decent beer.

When I got home, I finished my week-ending column for Comic Fodder, then went to bed.

Today was very pretty out, but a LOT colder. We've mostly been running errands, cleaning up a little and hanging out today. I did some maintenance work for Comic Fodder as per JimD's wise suggestion (no, I am not done), and tonight I need to do at least 1/2 of my DC Comic Reviews.

So I sat through 2 hours of "Grease: You're the One That I Want", NBC's Broadway-themed American Idol rip-off. It's hosted by TV gadfly Billy Bush, who I once tee'd off on in these very pages.

I finally figured out what creeps me out about Billy Bush (aside from the fact that he is, in fact, a member of the Presidential Bush family, and does, in fact, look a tad like Bush POTUS 43). What creeps me out is that all Billy does for a living is read from a teleprompter. And not particularly well.

Ryan Seacrest may be a parasite, but he's a highly successful, lamprey-like parasite. I've had occasion to see American Idol dozens of times, and I can give him credit where credit is due. Seacrest at least seems comfortable improvising and talking to the contestants.

Every single word from Bush's mouth is coming from the teleprompter, to his eyes and then out of his mouth in a bizarre, snappy patter that bears no resemblance to actual human speech patterns. It's almost as if Bush doesn't actually understand the words he's saying, or ever consciously process those words. He's a human vo-coder that merely blurts out sounds based upon some barely sophisticated programming.


it walks among us

And that may well be the truth. Take the vo-coder, add a head of LA-wet-moosed-windblow hair, blank/dead eyes and a zombified grin, and there's no real evidence to prove that Billy Bush ISN'T an alien being walking in our midst. A star-struck, semi-coherent alien with a lot of skin creme at his disposal.

I have decided, while watching this show, that I have a pitch Maxwell and I need to put together for a "reality" show. Our show would have to be on Bravo or A&E, and it would follow the process of bringing a show (TV, movie, Broadway, whatever) together, but not in a game show format. I think people would be interested in a documentary about the whole process.

Only our show would also have sharks.