Tonight we dined IN HELL!!!

So when we were moving in, I noticed that someone was putting in some sort of new building on the Lamar/290 frontage road just north of Brodie. Sort of an odd location, but forward thinking as that whole area by Burger Center is turning Sunset Valley into a little economic engine like nobody's business.

Anyhoo... this winter I noticed it was going to be an Italian place with the dubious name of (name redacted by agreement w/ restaurant owner. It's a long story). The outside was brightly painted, indicating that it was a tiny Italian villa. I'm not sure. I'm usually going 50 over there, and I don't usually slow for such things.

This evening we were considering tacos at Serrano's by 290, and I recalled there was the new restaurant on the other side of the road. "Let's try Johnny Clambake's..." I announced from the back seat (Jason sat in front and Jamie drove). Of late, I've acquired my mother's ability (or inability) to recall proper nouns, but go ahead and assign them a name I feel works for me. (We did not watch Saturday Night Live. We watched Saturday Night Alive! We ate at Chick-a-Fillet. Yet she knew who all the Star Wars characters were. It's odd.) Jamie swerved in and out of lanes as we tried to decide where we were going, and finally we settled on Johnny Clambake's.

Upon pulling into the lot we noted that the place was an all-you-can-eat buffet. Never a good sign for a promising meal, but even The League tires of tacos upon occasion, and so we decided it would be a bit of an adventure, to pioneer Johnny Clambake's and be able to say "Oh, yes, I ate there. Oh, yes."

So the entry way at Johnny Clambake's was really pretty nice. Obviously designed to hold a great number of waiting diners, but not quite as EPCOT-ish as Olive Garden, but not exactly what one might think any self-respecting actual Italian would recognize as Italian. Heck, even a self-respecting Italian-American.

I knew we were in trouble when, as new customers, we were offered "the tour". The tour took up through "Il Vilagio" which really was an odd buffet line broken up into various ideas about one might want to eat. Anti-pasta, salad at one end. Dessert at the other. All nicely appointed. And the food didn't look like middle-school cafeteria food, but they also weren't shy about moving you through The Vilagio as quickly as possible. "And it's all you can eat!" the tour guide insisted four or five times, just in case we were worried we might not get our money's worth.

And then the tour took a curious turn as we were lead past several "dining pods", you might describe them, down a hallway, past the restrooms, and I suspected we'd be out by the dumpsters when we emerged in a new dining pod with about fifteen tables. The tour guide then directed us to the table crammed into a corner, directly next to the only other occupied table in the pod, complete with kids crawling right up on to the table. Luckily, not Jason, Jamie or I were too shy as we stepped on each other's words requesting a table across the room. Actually, I think Jamie wandered over to a table and Jason said "we'll sit there."

The dining pod was painted a nice shade of fancy-dining room red, and covered in reproductions of art you kind of maybe thought looked like something that was supposed to be nice (including an 18th century picture of hunting dogs), and gave off the illusion that one was somewhere okay... but the little plastic standee on the table then announced our meal would be $13.00 a head. This did not include $2.00 for a drink.

"Let's go," I said. "We can leave."
"We came here for something new, let's try something new."
"Okay," I agreed. But I knew... Hell, Golden Corral is about the same price. I don't know what I expected.
The tables were also all squeezed remarkably close together, which was part of our decision not to sit next to the kids. It would have been like sitting at the same table. But the dining pod was mostly empty and we decided we were far enough away. After all, Jamie loves to drop the f-bomb to punctuate dinner conversations.

Also, Johnny Clambake's had this weird table inventory system visible at the entrance to each dining pod. It looked like a security grid, but included a touchscreen interface so the tour guide could determine which tables were sat. I wanted to monkey with it, but feared retribution should I be caught in the act.

After placing drink orders and having to witness the tour guide do some paperwork to note that we'd changed tables (no, reallY) we wandered back out into the winding maze of (editor's note: name removed to protect the innocent meatball manufacturers). "If this place caught on fire," I said to Jamie as we squeezed past a patron going the other way, "It would be a firey deathtrap." The hallways were ADA, but they were hallways in a buffet restaurant. Where people must get up multiple times and get food (now, you could be reasonable and get one plate of food, but who would do that? Not the Steans Boys, I tell you that much.). Luckily the place was sort of slow, but I had horrible visions of Saturday night at Clamshack Steve's.

"Go for the meat!" I insisted loudly as we broke apart at Il Vilagio. "They want for you to get cheap stuff like bread and salad! That's a con game! The meat costs them! Don't fill up before you get your money's worth!"

But, it being an Italian place and not a grill, I saw a lot of bread sticks, salad and pasta, but very little meat. Except for some meatballs listed as "Homemade Meatballs", which is a lie. Unless the cooks actually live at (editor's note: name removed under suggestion from legal council), this place is nobody's home, and I don't much care for the fib.

Other offerings included meatloaf and fried fish. But, yeah, for the most part it was sort of vaguely Italian-ish faire.

But I was mostly just confused by the whole operation. $13.00 for dinner and the food was, at best, the low end of the Olive Garden spectrum. Plus you had to fetch it yourself, and there flat out weren't that many "entree" type options.

And some guy who was just lingering in Il Vilagio had some nasty BO that surrounded him like a bubble and stung my eyes.

Upon returning to our table, they'd packed in more families (that table LED system was lit up like Christmas, I tell ya), and despite there being multiple empty tables far from us, the tour guide had chosen to pack them in around our table. We immediately noticed that if both tables sat back to back, neither could stand to return to the buffet line, which might save them money, but certainly seemed to defeat the purpose of the buffet concept. The League must be free in his movements when going back for soft serve ice cream.

We weren't the only ones to notice as the room became more densely packed and the family seated behind us got up and moved on their own, causing a landslide of paperwork for somebody.

And the food I got? Okay. Nothing great. Nothing that suggested they needed to clear out Deck the Walls' post-Holiday sale to decorate the joint. I'm an American. If the food is hot and there isn't vermin dashing across the table, color me pleased with my dining surroundings.

Then I noticed the bottom of the table was covered in that super-dense carpet they use in elementary schools. "There's carpet under the tables!" I exclaimed.
"Yes," Jamie blinked.
"No, on the bottom of the tables," Jason said, noting the odd texture. "Not the floor".

I do not understand Johnny Clambake's. I don't get the dining pods, the narrow, deathtrap hallways, the chocolate fountain they would not let you touch, Il Vilagio, substandard food, too many "fancy-lookin'" prints on the walls, and a 9:00 closing time.

At 8:15 Jason told the waiter, who was fishing around to see if we wanted our bill, "Oh, no. We're going to sit here for an hour, digest, and then go back for more." He sort of blinked and then said "We close at 9:00." Apparently someone had put our plan into action.

Oh, Johnny Clamshack! You are one senior citizen taking a spill in your narrow hallways away from closing your doors. Or someone noticing that the pizza bar is not dissimilar to the one in the Jester Dormitory cafeteria.

Oddly, the place (we found out because Jason likes to ask questions) is owned by the same folks who own (editor's note: name removed to preserve future dining experiences) (also a place where I expect I could meet a firey end). And I like (editor's note: name removed to preserve future opportunities for BBQ). I think I get where they're going with Jimmy Clamshack's, but there's a lot of work that has to happen with the menu if they want to make it. Or not. They could drop the price, and then, really, who cares? Ain't nobody going to Cici's because the pizza is good.

If the place does fold, it would make a swell Laser Tag arena. Otherwise, I have no idea what they could do with the oddly shaped space.

Some Excellent News

A) It sounds like The League's own CBG is packing up her belongings and returning to the Capital City. Read her announcement here.

That's excellent news for The League who is quite fond of CBG, and was pleased to find he enjoyed the company of CBG's husband as well. Let's all hope baby Xander doesn't spoil it for everyone with an anti-Texas stance.

We're glad to hear that you're coming back, CB! We'll leave a light on for you.

Oh, and there's no reason for Xander to know he was born anywhere but Texas. We'll cover for you.


B) It seems The League's own Peabo knows not just the day, but the time of his soon to be arrived child's, uhm... arrival? Birth. Yes, birth.

So this Friday everything changes for Peabo as he transforms from irresponsible purveyor of hare-brained schemes to irresponsible purveyor of hare-brained schemes involving children. Huzzah!

I need to get that kid a present.

Ah, who am I kidding? That kid is going to be a baby and won't know if I've picked it out a present until it's at least four. And it's not like Peabo will be keeping track...



Big doings here among Loyal Leaguers...

Some Links

1) To nobody's surprise, there shall be a toyline associated with the upcoming Transformers movie. I will not buy any of these toys as I like to keep my Transformers classic. Here is "Barricade" from the upcoming film, in toy form.

Thanks to Jamie for the link.


2) Maxim magazine (the magazine for guys too chicken to ask for the magazines behind the counter at 7-11) has rated the top ten comic "babes".

I do not know who did their rankings, but I guarantee you, any real fanboys' rankings would shake out much differently. Not that we keep a laminated list of our favorite comic leading ladies in our pocket, but if we did... you know, the list would be different.

There's really no arguing this one without going into some deep, dark places I really don't want to explore.

Thanks to Randy "This Doesn't Seem Weird to Me" T. for the link.


3) Jim D. sends along this link from "Ask" about Superman's costume. Specifically, why does Superman wear his underwear outside of his clothes? The person who answers rambles a bit, but then fails to answer the question.

The answer is that Shuster designed the costume based upon a recognizable symbol for strength in 1938, the circus strongman, who often would wear a leotard with some sort of briefs over the top (for reasons which should be fairly obvious). In the first issues of Action Comics, Superman also wore circus-style lace-up boots, and the cape appears to have been added as a bit of flourish and after-thought.

This isn't really any different from why Dracula is dressed as a carnival magician in the movie Dracula from 1933 (Do you really think nobility ever dressed in big capes with pointy collars?) or why Bettie Boop has an enormous head (Flappers' heads were believed to grow to gigantic size due to their consumption of bathtub gin and cheap Canadian whiskey*).

Why does Superman still wear his drawers outside his tights? Because a single blue outfit with red boots looks silly. Also, he needs a pocket for his wallet.

4) As Jim D. was heard to remark "It would be a far, far better thing to go to that amusement park than I have ever done before." Coming Soon: Dickens Land!


5) CNN finally proves itself a reliable news source.

According to CNN, somebody in Serbia discovered a compound with the same chemical properties as Kryptonite...

CNN's not-so-in-depth report which focuses on the many types of Kryptonite. God bless you Mort Weisinger.

Uhm. I'm a pretty big Superman nerd, and I have NO idea what they're talking about... There was a mention in Superman III of the chemical make-up of Kryptonite, and again in Superman Returns (on a label at the museum where Lex obtained his Kryptonite).

But, honestly, the whole point of Kryptonite was that it was composed of elements which were formed in the destruction of Krypton... and thusly could not be duplicated, per se, on Earth...

Well, CNN is owned by Time Warner, as is Superman and DC Comics, so this reporting must all be accurate.


6) Say it ain't so, Cap! (link courtesy JimD)

7) And... this. Which makes me both ashamed and jealous.









Plus a reminder that the original is still the best.









*this is a lie.

...because I love Bully's comic reviews...

Dog Tired

1) I have not made a peep regarding the massacre at Virginia Tech. I've kept mum partially because any words I've tried to summon on the topic have felt woefully inadequate.

This evening the South Mall at UT (which lies in the shadow of the UT Tower) was filled with thousands of students, alumni and folks from the Austin community for a candle ceremony to commemorate the victims. If any school understands the long memory of such a tragedy, it's the UT community.

Best hopes go out to the families of the victims and the Virginia Tech community.

2) Our dogs are attempting to bankrupt us. Last week Lucy managed to wind up at the vet almost every day, and will need to be continually monitored for a while at home. She's been having odd GI problems which are not providing us with any obvious diagnoses or solution. Things culminated in a 30 hour stay at the animal hospital over Saturday and Sunday. She seems fine now, but...

And tomorrow Melbotis will be visiting the vet to have a lumpectomy. The lump is not believed to be malignant, but the vet wants to remove it before it does become a problem. Poor Mel.

Poor Lucy.

Jeff the Cat is fine.

3) I am hopelessly behind on Comic Fodder work.

4) I am hopelessly behind on providing questions to Steven G. Harms for The Mellies.

5) I am hopelessly behind on keeping up with Steven and Lauren since their move northward. I warned them that once you pass the river, you are dead to me...

6) I need to call Cousin Susan and explain what happened with the weekend.

7) I minorly screwed up at work today. My first @#$% up! Hurray!

8) I now own "Star Spangled War Stories #139" featuring the origin of Enemy Ace. If you are me, you think that is totally rad.

9) On a related note, Jamie won herself a suitor on Sunday at Austin Books. I had wandered off to price back-issues of "New Gods", and Jamie was sort of standing there with a copy of the latest American Splendor collection in her hand when a young gentleman took the opportunity to break the ice by declaring his admiration for Harvey Pekar. He just kept talking. And talking. Clearly not picking up on Jamie's "please go away..." vibes.

Because The League is a curious sort of fellow, we decided to let the events unfold naturally, with no intervention despite Jamie's telepathic cries for rescue. (a) I wanted to see how Jamie would handle it, (b) there's a chance jamie's just looking for the right opportunity to jump ship, and (c) did I really want to be the guy who puffs his chest and goes all monkey crazy because some dude is talking to his lady?

I think Jamie let the chap down rather easily, properly showing zero interest and letting him verbally paint himself into a corner from which the only escape was to feign interest in some nearby comics and wander off. This was after he talked a bit too much about how his ex-girlfriend just didn't get Harvey, even though she tried for his benefit.

At this point I re-entered the scene, excited to know that this gentleman would then tell his friends "And then she left with some dork who was looking for back issues of 'New Gods'! Who reads 'New Gods'? NERD!"

Being a girl in a comic shop is a frightening, frightening proposition. Still, I hope Jamie was at least a little flattered.

In reviewing the scene, I suspect that were The League flying a solo mission, we'd fair no better in trying to break the ice.

10) It. Just. Keeps. Raining.

Well, better than 110 days of continuous sunshine, I guess.

11) As soon as my membership to Hollywood video begins, I end it. I still am physically incapable of watching rented movies or returning them.

12) Today I bought these mints. How many mints come with a warning not to eat them if you have high blood pressure? Not too many. But my Mogo Mints sure as @#$% did. Scroll to the bottom left here to see the many, many health warnings associated with enjoying a Mogo Mint.

I'm working near campus which is why I think I'm discovering caffeine supplements again (I had Jolt Mints last week). I've been told a Quix near campus sells caffeine that, my co-worker informs me "you can mainline". I guess you can buy small tubes of powdered caffeine now.

If those items had been available in 1993-1998, I shudder to think of what a short, jittery life I might have led.

11) I shall not be viewing "Flavor of Love Girls: Charm School". Take the craziest girls from the first two seasons of Flavor of Love, remove Flav, give the girls semi-sociopathic advice that makes no sense... it's like watching someone disturb bee's nests for an hour.

What concerned me most was that the girl kicked off on the first episode clearly had rage issues, if not downright issues with her mental health, and she reached out to show host comedienne Mo'Nique. She was subsequently kicked off the show for showing weakness.

Apparently I missed the part of where becoming a better person means being a cut-throat jerk and refusing to see a shrink when you clearly need one.

I wanted to like the show. I really did. I was honestly shocked at the criteria the judges used in the elimination round.

12) Even more surprising for sheer evil is the new VH1 documentary show about the making of "The Jerry Springer Show" entitled "The Springer Hustle". Free of anything resembling scruples, the producers on Springer don't hide a thing as they work to get their guests into a fighting mood prior to releasing them onto the stage. Totally amazing to see folks who've so clearly lost sight of (or never had) basic human empathy as they try to outdo their fellow producers on a show that, ultimately, has absolutely no redeeming value.

13) I've also beenw atching Dogfights on History Channel. For some reason I find the show completely fascinating.

GRINDHOUSE

I am not a child of the 70's, nor was I raised in Southern California or any of the other places where "Grindhouses" may have once existed. I'm a child of the 80's, and multiplex theaters built into shopping malls. (For reason I cannot fathom, I always associate the Willowbrook Mall theater with my first viewings of Jurassic Park and Freejack, although I saw literally dozens of movies at that theater. And why Freejack, for God's sake?).

Anyhow, I don't think the "Grindhouse" idea was ever as prevalent in the US as Mssr's Tarantino and Rodriguez would have us believe. At least seeing a series of crappy movies on a single bill wasn't as fondly remembered.

But if you're going to see two movies on a single bill, Alamo Drafthouse is the place to go. We intentionally broke up our orders into appetizers and a main course over the two movies and managed to really settle in. And, prior to the movie, the Alamo showed trailers from classic "Grindhouse" movies such as "Vanishing Point", "The Thing with Two Heads" and "Dracula Meets the Seven Brothers (and their one Sister)".

So how was the actual movie?

It's possible that the entire movie might have been better off as nothing but a series of trailers. After all, trailers always show the best parts of movies, and in some ways the directors seem to know that trailers are more fun than what you actually get in a movie.

So, yes, the "trailers" between the two movies are almost more fun than the two features.

"Planet Terror" is a fun zombie movie. Flat out. I would have gladly paid to see this movie without any of the additional Grindhouse baggage. It's gross, it's an action movie, it casts Freddy Rodriguez as a bad-ass, and someone finally makes good use of Rose McGowan for the first time I can think of since the first "Scream" film. In fact, I predict that "Cherry Darling" will become one of those staples of fanboyish-ness that will lead to a new cult following for McGowan. Michael Biehn gets his best role since, possibly, The Abyss, and everyone, including Bruce Willis seems to behaving a grand time.


one more item to add to the list of "What The League Looks for in a Woman"

In a way, "Planet Terror" is critic proof as it never tries to do more than be a really fun movie (albeit not for kids or the squeamish), and I can't really think of anything that bugged me about the movie. It sets out to be an over-the-top zombie movie, and from that perspective, I think they knocked it over the fence. Winding subplots, hokey call-backs and catch phrases. A good bad movie.

Prior to "Planet Terror", Rodriguez had tacked on a trailer for what I can only refer to as an Hispanic-Sploitation action movie called "Machete". And, man, yes... I would probably go see Machete.

Between the films, Rob Zombie's trailer for "Werewolf Women of the SS" was absolutely wrong, and, yes... I would totally see that movie. Perhaps less so Eli Roth's "Thanksgiving", but in keeping with the bad-movie tradition of turning seemingly innocent Holidays in a small town into a bloodbath... sure. I could absolutely see where Roth was coming from. He had me at the turkey mascot decapitation.

I was less enthusiastic about Tarantino's "Death Proof", which surprised me. I do enjoy the purity of a good car chase, although I don't know that I've ever even seen any of the films that's comprised of almost nothing but car chases (unless you count "Smokey and the Bandit" and "Empire Strikes Back" - oh, come on! "Empire's" entire Han Solo sequence was pretty much Smokey and the Bandit in space).

The problem with "Death Proof" was two-fold:

a) A lot of the Grindhouse movies that Tarantino professes such a love for were pretty dull, when you get down to it. There's a lot of talking and standing around because that's a lot cheaper to film than action sequences. This wasn't unique to car-chase featuring C-movies of the 70's. Go back to the black and white sci-fi cheapies and serials, and you'll find endless, pointless discussion between scientists speaking in utter gibberish.

b) Tarantino writes like a 20 year old film student. He's hopelessly in love with his own dialog and the minutia of what people say to each other when sitting in cafes and bars, believing these conversations (and characters) to be far, far more compelling than they actually are.

For some reason, Tarantino decided to give a mad shout out to Austin in "Death Proof", which is sort of cute. His characters name drop and go to eat at Guero's and the Texas Chili Parlor. Two of the stars of "Rollergirls" who wait tables at the Texas Chili Parlor play themselves. The odd "Jungle Julia" billboards that were up the week I moved back to town finally receive an explanation. They were props for the movie. Apparently Mr. Tarantino is unaware that in Austin, for whatever reason, DJ's don't really splash their mugs on billboards. But it does solve the mystery Doug and I tried to solve of why a radio station would advertise their DJ and then fail to note the actual frequency of the station.

Anyhow, it seems Tarantino has a school-boy crush on Waterloo.

SPOILERS
I suppose it's possible Tarantino is presenting an homage to Hitchcock's set-up of Janet Leigh as the heroine in Psycho with his extensive set-up of four female friends at the beginning of "Death Proof", but the problem is that this ISN'T Psycho, and he ISN'T Hitch. In fact, as a 70's style horror flick, the audience expects for all but one of the female leads to die. So establishing all of the characters just doesn't seem like such a neat narrative trick when the game plan is to kill them all off.
SPOILERS END

Longtime readers will know that The League is a big fan of narrative economy, and here we get the polar opposite. The middle of "Death Proof" is essentially a fifteen minute conversation between four gal pals in a coffee shop (possibly Jo's, which I've never actually been in). Then a lengthy, lengthy conversation about driving a car and who can come.

Whenever Kurt Russell is on screen, the movie is fine. Whenever Kurt Russell is not on the screen, it's like letting air out of an impossibly irritating balloon.

When the cars are rolling, the movie is fun. I won't deny that. But it's also not really anything you haven't seen before. And that's sort of Tarantino, isn't it? He's a master art forger, but without Roger Avary around to move the story along, his movies don't seem to move beyond imitation.

Where Rodriguez seems to have seen that Achilles Heel of the C-Movie was the horrendous sense of pacing, Tarantino demonstrates slavish devotion to the drudgery of those movies and assumes his dialog is hilariousness enough to carry us through vast, vast stretches of inane conversations where, as an audience member, you want to stand up and shout "Okay, I get it! They like cars!"

It is true that Russell hands in a great performance, and I think Jason developed a crush on stuntwoman Zoe Bell (playing herself) during the course of the film. But, yeah... in some ways all "Death Proof" does is remind the audience that these films are usually remembered for brief set pieces rather than for the overall whole of the movie.

Howdy, Leaguers.

Well, this week has been quite busy for The League. The new job has thrown me in head first, but by accident. I was supposed to shadow a producer, but unfortunately her mother took ill, and now I'm filling in for that producer. So I've been dropped in the deep end.

Aside from a constant low level feeling of confusion, and an additional creeping sleepiness that pops up like clockwork at 3:00 each day, I'm liking the new job quite a bit. They are making an effort to make sure I'm properly trained, despite the missing producer, and everyone I talk to takes time to answer my questions. I'm honestly a bit thrown off by not working in a crazy public sector setting and all that that implies.

Last night I had not yet even arrived home when I was informed that Lucy had puked twice. It seems that the allergic reaction from the weekend had some latent effects of the GI-tract variety, and so it was that I made a mid-week return trip to the Doggy ER. They're theorizing that Lucy's troubles were a further portion of her allergic reaction to whatever it was she got into this weekend. I'm happy to say she seems much, much better this evening.

In addition to that, I'm tyring to adjust to a work schedule again, and, honestly, that schedule is a bit deeper to keep than waking up between 9:00 and 10:30 for a big day of watching daytime TV and looking online for job postings. So I'm going to bed a bit earlier and trying to get adjusted. Look for normal blogging to resume in the not-too-distant-future.

Internet: DOWN!!!

Oh, Leaguers...

So this weekend we had some guys doing some stuff in our yard and they cut the coaxial line to the house. So, from about 9:30 AM Sunday to this evening, I've been more or less without an internet connection at home.

here's a quick run down of life in the past few days:

1) Saturday I attended funeral services for Liz Pieper. Liz had a lot of good friends, and she'll be missed.

2) Judy is already home from the hospital and she's doing pretty well. We're waiting for some lab results to come back, but I would describe the mood as cautiously optimistic. Right now things are looking much more promising than they appeared when the surgery was announced.

3) Sunday Lucy was acting as if she was having a bit of an allergy attack, but I thought maybe she'd feel better if I took her to Jason's to play with Cassidy. En route, I noticed her face was a bit puffy. About twenty minutes after arriving, she's developed large welts all over and looked weird and freakish. I didn't want for my dog to die, but I also didn't want to spend $5000 getting her checked out at the Dog ER if she just needed a few Bendaryl and some rest. However, she was getting noticeably worse within an hour, so I took her to the Dog ER where they gave her a shot and I was out around $100. Small price to pay so you don't need to explain to your wife how you let the dog die while she was gone.

4) Jamie got back Sunday night.

5) I've been working. I actually like my job. I like my co-workers so far. I am in a bit of a state of confusion as the place fairly well staffed and my usual mode of "I'll do it" that's always been my survival mode in small, underfunded offices isn't working. I am going to learn that the world is not made up of Octavio, Tom and Eric, all already given too many tasks.

6) The lead on the technical side of my latest project wrote part of his Masters' thesis on Crisis on Infinite Earths. I think I know my DC, but he puts my critical thinking skills to shame. I am in awe.

7) We now have internet again. Did I mention that?

8) It rained all day today. All day.

9) I am going to lose weight. I am not trying, but there's a difference between being home all day and only leaving the couch to eat, and being at work with regular meal times. Plus, part of my job is wrestling ferocious tigers.

10) I still think getting up before 10:00 AM is a sucker's game.

I was tired

regarding my concern over the title of the post and then my quote, I did a little googling, and figured out that Journalista was actually referring to the article further down in the body of the article.

Apparently the title referred to a now defunct comic strip featuring cartoon animals with colorful names. As we've noted before, The League doesn't end up reading web comics for reasons that remain a mystery. But web comics are exactly the kind of territory that Journalista! does cover.

So, anyway, looks like being tired and alarmed was not a good combination.

Here's a link to the comic in question.
The name of the site is not G-rated.

He Lives! He Walks! He Conquers!

Who? Who? Who?

This was all over the internet today, plus I received an e-mail or two linking the pic.

The first pic from the upcoming Iron Man movie has been shown.

It's the original, gray Kirby Iron Man armor.

The thing to keep in mind is that Iron Man changes his armor like you or I change our socks. Expect multiple suits of armor.

birthday thanks, spit curl, Judy, notoriety

The new job goes well. I'm a bit shell-shocked as I expect to be when starting a new job, but things are looking good. As per the hair from Day 1 of work...

Jamie's car is in the shop, and I needed a ride to work as Jamie needed my ride on Wednesday. My new job is literally five blocks from Jason's office, so he took me in. The stipulation was that he didn't want to tack an extra half hour onto his commute to go South and then north again, so I slept at his house. The hair care products in Jason's guest bath are different from my own, and I think what you're seeing there is what happens when I stray from my own hair care plan. Longtime pals know that when my hair grows out, I get the spit curl whether I like it or not. In AZ I mostly kept my hair too short for the spit curl, but here in Austin, the barbers do not give you a crew-cut no matter what you ask them to do. Here they left me with some length, and with some humdity, the spit curl has made it's return. In the picture in question, the spit curl just looks silly.

The chubbiness is, however, completely self-induced.


Thanks a million for the birthday greetings and well wishes. It means a lot to me. Aside from mandatory birthday greetings at work, etc... I do not believe I've ever had so many wish me a happy birthday. You Leaguers are tops.


I'd like it if everyone could put some positive vibes toward my mother-in-law, Judy. She's having surgery tomorrow, and we're all hoping it goes well. Jamie is up in Oklahoma with her now, as is Doug and Kristen. Starting the new job, I couldn't go, and I'm feeling no small bit of guilt over that. Judy is always here for us when we need her, so I'm feeling a bit like I'm not holding up my end of the bargain.

Anyhow, well wishes are welcome.


Here's the risk of going online with your opinion. Dirk at Journalista! has chosen a less than flattering way to describe either me, my post or the state of comics. It's unclear who, really, he's referring to. I confess to not being a regular reader of his blog, so I really hope I'm missing some context, but I have to assume it's not flattering.

And on my birthday! Egads.

Why is it when I get linked to, it's invariably by someone pointing out that I'm an ass? How come nobody ever links back to the League or Comic Fodder from well read comic blogs and says, "That Ryan kid is really on to something!"

I know I'm an ass. I just didn't know it was so obvious...

Anyhow, I'm a little perplexed by the quote, and, in my self-centered, defensive way, I think he's taking a line from a very lengthy post out of context, but, heck... I wrote whole history papers in college the same way. So more power to Journalista!, I suppose.

You wants to writes the comics reviews, you's gots to learn to roll wit' the punches.

32

Transdermal Celebration
by Ween

Transdermal celebration
Caused a slight mutation in the rift
It toppled down a nation
And left the people runnin' for the hills
But the mutants that I see
Shine their beauty unto me
I wish you could see them

Tectonic tribulations
Formed a crust of green beyond the reef
Waves fell in formation
Caused the plants to bend with spiked leaves
I'm growing with the land
Time has taken my hand
And let me touch them

Hey, hey, a million miles to mark A
Lay on the lawn
He's already home
When the morning rain hits his face. . .

Transdermal celebration
Jets flew in formation I could see them
Dropping their crustaceans
Leaving trails of flame in their wake
But where is the mutation
That once told me it was safe?
I can't find him

Hey, hey, a million miles to mark A
Lay on the lawn
He's already home
When the morning rain hits his face. . .

New Job = Light Posting

I started my new job this week. Please forgive me for lighter blogging than usual.

This unfortunate photo was posted to the company's intraoffice blog welcoming me.



My hair was not doing well today.

Anyway, the company seems super cool, and I am very excited.

Hey, Leaguers.

Hope you Easter Weekend was fabulous. Ours was unseasonably wintery and freaky. There's nothing sadder than an unshaven, weeping Steanso sitting on your front stoop looking out at the mud and the rain and asking why he can't hunt for eggs. I never want to go through that again.

After more interviews than I want to think about a lot of self-loathing, Friday I may have finally found gainful employment. As always, I'm keeping details to myself, but this place is a lot more in line with what I had in mind when we came back to town. I'm pretty darn excited. Should be starting pretty quickly.

Last night we had an early meet-up with Leaguers Carla and JAL and their respective spouses as well as Hilary and Stuart of The Flyin' A's. It was a Canyon Vista Middle School/ Westwood High mini-reunion, and was wildly entertaining. Finally met the man brave enough to marry CB, not to mention be her baby daddy (baby Xander was not there as he had some errands to run). And it'd been a while since I'd seen Justin and Tania. Hit the Draught House, and then popped over to Waterloo Ice House for a late dinner. And ice we had. In our freakish Texas storm, sleet came down on the roof of the Waterloo, and formed on our cars. But, luckily, nothing stuck.

That said, I was supposed to go to a karaoke party after the Warrior engagement, and ended up skipping out when the weather seemed to be just getting worse. I feel pretty bad about skipping, but The League fears Austin drivers on Saturday nights under the best of conditions.

We also watched the film adaptation of "Running with Scissors". I don't really understand why the director omitted certain vignettes and plot points from the memoir. Or why they cast a guy who was pretty clearly much older than the 14 years old that Burroughs was supposed to be, or why they added in certain elements, some of which seemed to stem from press that came out after the release of the book. On the whole, not a great movie.

This morning I woke up late. We met up with Jason, then headed to iHop for a sort of bleary Easter lunch.

This afternoon I was checking the new grass growing in our yard to see if last night's storm had taken out my Bermuda seedlings, and Jamie detected the scent of gas. I have a few theories on why, but Jamie's car apparently developed a drip from her gas tank, which should be nice and expensive to repair, and now I have to figure out how to get gas out of my driveway.

If it's not one thing, it's the other.

Showbiz Nightmare Fuel

You have seen nothing until you've seen The Rock-Afire Explosion perform "Smooth Criminal" about 2/3rd of the way through this video. Also note how iPod stole the look of their commericals from the Rock-Afire Explosion.

Pics from April's First Thursday with Mono E

I didn't announce it as it was approaching, but I should have. Jason and Reed's band, The Mono E(nsemble), played last week. Here are some photos.




Mono E takes the porch/stage at Ben White Florist (the "bwf" to the hip*).



My brother doing what he does best: taking up space



Jamie



World's Greatest Drummer: Reed Shaw



Some kids goofing around on the hill. I don't know who they are. I just like this picture.



Reed's kid, Meredith, explains something to Jen and Anna



The band rocks out



And you can tell things get out of control when guitarist, Frank, has to work and isn't there to keep things under control. The Reed drum solo came to a nerve shattering conclusion with Eric stepping in for a climax worthy of the Rock-Afire Explosion. Also, note bassist Jim (not OUR Jim, but A Jim, nonetheless) in the back, hiding in shame.


Rock on, gentlemen. Rock on.


*this is a lie. Nobody has ever said "bwf" to my knowledge. But it IS on their free refrigerator magnets.

The name Ben White Florist isn't actually terribly accurate, and every time I try to go to the location on So. Congress, I first go to S. 1st by accident. It is only when I ponder why theya re playing, usually somehwere near Polvo's, that I remember where I'm supposed to be going.

Liz Pieper

Jamie and I wish to express our heartfelt sympathy to the family and friends of Liz Pieper. Liz passed away this weekend after a long battle with cancer.

Liz was a good friend of my brother's, and a good friend to a great number of people. She will be missed.

You can read more atJason's site.

Hey, Leaguers!

Last night we headed down to Ben White Florist to see drummer Reed Shaw and Jason's band, The Mono E, play a show for the First Thursdays thing they do on South Congress. Those guys put on a good show, considering their usual guitarist was AWOL and Jason and Eric had to step up a bit.

And I missed the context was, but there was also an Easter Egg hunt. (Oh, I know it's Easter. I don't know who the people were or how they knew about the Egg Hunt). There were all of these families with little kids who rocked to the sounds of the Mono E, and then, in what's probably a first, the Mono E had to pause for the egg hunt. Anyway, I've now learned why egg hunts exist. Watching little kids toddle around with an oversized basket and try to find eggs is just good comedy. I first came to this conclusion when Jamie, Doug, Kristen and I came upon the egg hunt at the Hotel Coronado in San Diego and saw some poor hotel employee in a bunny suit get mobbed...

So congrats to the Mono E on another show successfully pulled off! And congrats to Reed Shaw for a stellar drum solo (man that Reed Shaw can rock the HOUSE)!!

That said, I may arrive late to the next First Thursday as I'd like to actually walk First Thursday at some point and see what the rest of the street has to offer. I like flowers and all, but...


So I don't know if this is all part of the "Day After Tomorrow" scenario of global warming or what... but it's supposed to be crazy cold here in Austin this weekend in the evenings. One report suggested it might even fall into freezing temperatures. I don't think that's likely to ccur, but it could drop into the low 40's or high 30's, and that, Leaguers, is not the usual lovely Easter weather one sees in this berg.

Meanwhile, the UN released a report forecasting that the Southwest is to be become a dustbowl thanks tp global warming. I've already lived in one desert, thank you.

This is on my mind as Saturday I'm scheduled to catch up with some old pals at Freddie's, which is a mostly outdoor venue. Our plan may need some re-adjusting.

I felt like I've been just dropping links and stuff for a while. I need to put nose to grind stone and work on the Mellies questions so we can get some real content up and going once again.

some enjoyable links. sorta.

I don't know how funny this is to folks who've never worked a helpdesk, or to people who've never worked in a tech-based arena.

At any rate, both Jamie and Steven G. Harms sent this to me in the past 24 hours.

Go to the link. I plead of you, go to the link.

And the video below is NOT parent friendly. There is repeated use of some bad words and some generally grim stuff. But I think I'd be remiss if I didn't share. Thanks to Randy for the link.


So much like Jason in high school, it's creepy

Jim, you had a good unicorn related link and I failed to post. Please resend.

Comic Fodder Needs Writers

Hey, Leaguers!

Comic Fodder needs writers!

Do you read an unhealthy number of comics?

The Fodder Network is looking for writers to help us build Comic Fodder into a must-read site for every comic geek with an internet connection. Are you a reader of comics who can put a critical eye to the comics they love, and who isn’t afraid to get a little scrappy defending their opinions down in the comments section?

Read the whole article here.

Acceptable TV

Acceptable.Tv

New show in which they show several new "shows" each week, and viewers vote on which ones they want to see the following week. Only two of the five shows make it. In addition, viewers can create short shows and send them in.

And, the show claims, the clips are only as long as the average attention span.

TV for the internet age.

Spider-Man week in NYC

Apparently it's pretty difficult for Spidey to get the fear and loathing in the real world which he gets in the comics.

Somebody... I'll say it's Bloomberg, but who knows... has declared the end of April, beginning of May "Spider-Man Week" across the five burroughs.

go here

Sadly, Austin has no local superheroes in either the DCU or Marvel Universe (although The Initiative will surely change that fact). I read once that the current Hawkgirl is from Austin, and, in fact, was getting a film degree when she received her powers or wings or whatever, but no mention has been made of that fact in years.

But we do get Spam-A-Rama this weekend.

Opening Day

Well, both the Astros and the Cubbies lost the season opener. I watched a good chunk of the Astros game, but was then sidetracked by my decision to grill some burgers. So today also marked the start of the cook-out season, although we kept it simple at League HQ. I suppose we'll need to have some folks over for some grilled meat.

The 'Stros were doing okay until the 8th inning when one of the Pirates hit a homer, and I think that was the beginning of the end. I'll never know. For some odd reason we were taping two shows, which meant we couldn't watch a live show on our DVR. So I didn't see that, but I did see the conclusion of Season 1 of "I Love New York". Yes, yes... I'm still following the "Flavor of Love" programs, and will leap right into "Charm School" later this month. God bless you, VH1.

I'll also be watching the behind-the-scenes show about how the Jerry Springer show is put together. Longtime Leaguers will know that I firmly believe that the endless line of nimrods they find to put up on the stage represents the real America in many, many ways. So much poor decision making.... so very much... And not afraid to air their laundry before a national audience.

I do watch a few minutes of Springer now and then. Just as I catch myself watching a few minutes of Maury, and my new favorite... The Greg Behrendt Show. Sadly, Greg's clueless style of trying to help people by utilizing the sage wisdom of an aging LA hipster did not pan out and we will only get one season of the program. But I will always remember it as a show that had absolutely no point, and even the host looked like he didn't want to be there.

I do get to watch a considerable amount of television as an unemployed person, and I'm this close to picking up the phone and calling The Everest Institute. They've now convinced me I could be making more money.



We went and saw Blades of Glory on Sunday at The Alamo South. The movie is exactly what one would expect from the trailers, and, yes... John Heder isn't actually very funny. He mostly plays the straight man to Will Ferrell's... Will Ferrell.

Amy Poehler and Will Arnett play a competing skating duo, and some of their stuff is okay. JD asked me if this was a theatrical must-see of one to save for Netflix. And I gotta say... Netflix. At times the directors and writers weren't trying hard enough, and at other times, maybe a little too hard. Still, it's comfortable middle ground for Will Ferrell. And this is going to reveal a bit more than I'd like, but I expected more out of the skating than what I got. Yes, I wanted silly CGI skating, but for anyone whose spent as much time as The League keeping his wife company during the winter olympics, I'm not sure why they didn't employ more actual skating stuff.

That said, the movie features Scott Hamilton, Peggy Fleming, Sasha Cohen and other skating greats. But, curiously, no Michelle Kwan.

Oh, and The Office's Jenna Fischer is in the movie, but you sort of get the feeling she's barely able to keep it together in most of her scenes. That's okay.

What else...?

Oh, yes...

Somehow this little video of Bully locating the famed Forbidden Planet comic shop was both funny and sweet.



Which makes me want to go ahead and link to...




Ah, Audrey...

Transformers: Robots In a Slide Show

Here for Movie Transformers photos. Here for trailers.

Dear Hollywood,

Was it really that hard? I've been asking for one thing out of a movie since 1991 or so... and that was to see giant robots blowing up the landscape. Why did this take 16 years?

Hollywood, I don't want much out of a movie, but here's what I want:

Fire
Explosions
Robots
Giant Robots
Superheroes
Kung-Fu
Apes or Monkeys
Fighter Planes and/ or Spaceships
Laser weapons
Alien Beings
Heroic archaeologists
Michelle Yeoh
Cowboys
Shoot outs

I do not need, nor really desire, all of these items in a single movie. But it doesn't hurt to include most of this list into your summer faire.

So, thanks, Hollywood, for the movie featuring giant robots and explosions. I owe you one.

Sincerely,

League of Melbotis

Lawyerbear

There are four total posts here today. Let's start with the one for the lawyers in the audience.

here.

LaLa Weds, Provides Booze and Food

The League's own LaLa got hitched up over the weekend. No pictures, sorry.

LaLa married a gentleman named "Michael", who, by all accounts and my own observations, is a decent sort of a fellow. Michael and LaLa had been seeing one another for quite some time since our sojourn in Arizona, and we'd begun to believe Michael to be a fiction as LaLa would make many an appearance when we'd be in town, but her gentleman friend was never anywhere to be seen.

We adore LaLa (she's the potty-mouthed embarassment-to-the-family I never had), and we wish she and the husband the very best. She won't read this as she's going to be in Mexico for a while, soaking up sunshine and pina coladas in equal measure. I just really hope she likes the wooden hangers I got her for her wedding gift. Nothing says, "Enjoy a life full of love" like the gift of neatly creased trousers.

Matt and Nicole rode out to Driftwood with us for the wedding, and Dan and his fiancee, Ilana (sp?), flew in from Chicago. Matt still refuses to dance, so I was skeptical of my own chances, but who can turn down "Sex Machine"? Not Mr. & Mrs. League, that I can tell you.

I hadn't met Ilana, and I was waiting to kick the tires before agreeing with everyone else that she was okay. Ilana passed my rigorous questioning with flying colors, and they now have my approval to proceed to the altar. Well done, Dan.

A lovely evening at the newly established Mandola's Vineyard out in Driftwood, kind of past The Salt Lick, and then down a bit on the left.

Anyhow, congrats to LaLa and Michael. The League of Melbotis wishes you buckets of happiness.

Maxwell Propagates the Species

...and you can already tell it's Maxwell's child...

From Maxwell's e-mail:

As some of you already know, our first child arrived Wednesday March 28th at 4:14 pm. We're in love with all 7lbs and 7oz. Her name is Sophia Mari Scott, but you can call her Sophie. She's named for Mari Scott, Eric's wonderful grandmother. Mom, Dad, and Baby are all healthy and very happy.

So, a new chapter for our own Cowgirl Funk. It seems like just yesterday that I was driving this little Drama Club freshman home and was amused that she was pleasantly less annoying than most of the rest of her class. God bless 'er.

Congrats to the whole Maxwell clan on the arrival of Sophia.

When the time is right, the League of Melbotis shall be ready and available to teach her The Robot.

A Post for April 2nd

From Mark Twain:

At certain periods it becomes the dearest ambition of a man to keep a faithful record of his performances in a book; and he dashes at this work with an enthusiasm that imposes on him the notion that keeping a journal is the veriest pastime in the world, and the pleasantest. But if he only lives twenty-one days, he will find out that only those rare natures that are made up of pluck, endurance, devotion to duty for duty's sake, and invincible determination, may hope to venture upon so tremendous an enterprise as the keeping of a journal and not sustain a shameful defeat.

- The Innocents Abroad.

Yes, the announcement of the conclusion of The League of Melbotis was an April Fool's Day sham. I sincerely appreciate the words of encouragement even in the face of the unlikelihood that we'd shuttered our doors and cut the pilot light.

As with any good lie, there's some truth to the post. Of late, I feel much of the relevancy of League of Melbotis has tipped it's hat and ridden off into the sunset. But I think that comes with each spring time and each anniversary. After all, I think April 2nd marks the 4th anniversary of LoM, and after all this time...

Well, a lot of ink's been spilt.

Happy April 2nd, Leaguers.

FINAL POST

Hey, Leaguers

After much consideration, I've decided that this post will be the final post for League of Melbotis. We've been in business for somewhere in the neighborhood of four full years, and it's been, I can say, a fantastic ride. I've gotten to know a lot of new people, caught up with long lost pals, and kept up with a lot of folks I might have otherwise lost touch with in our years in the desert.

I think I've accomplished some of the goals I had in mind when I started this blog, and other goals have become less important as time has marched on. I'll leave it to your imagination to guess which was which.

But I think the day of The League has passed. I can only hope that you all have enjoyed peeking in on our life.

At the Folks'

I'm in Spring for the next 20 hours or so. I came in this afternoon, and tomorrow will be nabbing Jamie and Mel and heading back to S. Austin.

Of course I'm way off schedule and everyone else has headed off for Sleepytime Junction. I was tired until about 9:00, and then my brain's second shift showed up, energized for duty. I had tried to beat them into submission with a large dinner and some wine, but no go.

As many a-Leaguer knows, my folks live in the same house I moved into in high school. And, therefore, not just the house but certain streets, car washes, bridges and loose items laying around the house are marked with that soft glow that, when you think on it too hard, tosses you back 15 years into the past. The magnifying class on the computer table is an odd anachronism, once belonging to my grandparents and now sitting here. The same calculator we bought when I was in high school, and it still works. Easter decorations I made with my own hands when I was in fifth grade.

And, of course, the notebooks of bad, bad maudlin poetry and prose that I'd hung on to at some point when I was ordered to clean out my old room. In reviewing my work, I was a rotten kid, I can tell you that much. Poor me. Lots of talk of anguish and pain, which sounds about right for the time. Drama kids.

At some point in the not-too-distant future my folks will sell this house, and it leaves me in an interesting pickle. I do not want this stuff crowding my house anymore than they want it moving with them to whatever version of Del Boca Vista Phase II in which they decide to land. When these things go to the dump, this external RAM I've been keeping of my life is going to go, too. I guess that's the nature of getting older.

These days when I come back, I don't mind if synapses fire that haven't seen a spark in years. There was a time when I found that almost threatening, but these days... there's a lot of water under the bridge, I suppose.

We'll be heading back tomorrow evening, I think. So we'll have tomorrow to sift through some of this stuff.

I might even venture into the garage attic and see if I can find my Matchbox cars.

League Links

Nathan was recently here for SXSW. He's a bit of a journalista for Texas Public radio in San Antone...

here's some of his reporting. Go to about minute 20.

here's more

And the Texas Matters site

Neil Gaiman's Stardust is now a movie.

Optimus

Megatron

Yes, you can have my $8.00.

And, a timely comic strip...

It's my understanding that the nation of Turkey is a fascinating place with a culture thousands of years old, rich in the arts, and generally not a bad place as long as you don't ride the Midnight Express.

But, here, I don't think they even tried...

Flying Solo

I've been back since Monday as Jamie gets some tests run. Looks like I'll drive back to Houston on Thursday and then drive back to Austin late Friday night. My folks do this kind of trans-290 driving all the time, but I don't particularly care for it. That Stephen King audio book is going to come in real handy.

Yesterday I totally lost track of time as I puttered around the house. At this point I just expect to lose track of time for the first 36 hours or so when I'm left to my own devices.

Last night involved grabbing some pizzas and heading over to Mandy's to catch some Boston Legal (which I realized I had seen before, but had forgotten). Then home for wild night which I planned to spend blogging and watching some Adventures of Superman episodes to wrap up the series. What I forgot was that I needed to catch up on some sleep as I'd not slept much Monday night/Tuesday morning. I made it through two Superman episodes and then toddled off to bed at 11:45, which may be the earliest I've checked out for the day in over a month.

Lucy is clearly missing Jamie and Mel, Jeff is unreadable, and I'm trying to figure out what to do with myself for the next 24 hours.

At least it's sunny and warm. Shorts wearing weather. So beware my milky-white legs as they make their first appearance of the year.

As is my want, I made a detour through Toys R' Us yesterday. The mega-toy store, which was all but the Mecca of toy-lovin' kids has fallen on some hard times since the big box stores got serious about the toy business. The action figure section at your local Wal-Mart or Target is significantly better stocked than Toys R' Us, and short of a few lines Toys R' Us seems to have picked up which otherwise would only be found at comic shops and specialty merchants, their selection has dwindled to near nothing. It's kind of sad.

Toys 'R Us almost went out of business a few years ago, but some crafty Germans swooped in and bought the company right out of bankruptcy, so at least they didn't close their doors. Then Toys 'R Us parted ways with Amazon.com...

Anyway, this is all a long, long way of mentioning that the Spider-Man 3 movie tie-in toys are out. Every time a comic-related movie is coming out, I gawk at the toys, and within a short while am able to ascertain the plot of the movie by looking at what toys and tie-ins are on the shelf. I actually figured out the plot to Superman Returns by looking at the toys about two months before the movie was released.

Not this time. Spidey 3 has incorporated a multitude of Spidey villains into the toy line that may or may not be in the movie. And if I hadn't made a pretty specific promise to Jamie that "I'm only buying DC toys from now on" about a year ago, and then a "only Superman toys" rule this year, I might have gone bonkers grabbing The Lizard and other items from the shelf.

There is one item I want, for oddly practically reasons. There's a Spider-Man 3 "bug vaccuum" that is handheld and could easily solve my problem of being unable to get at bugs in corners.

So, yeah, I'll probably be breaking my "no Spidey toys" rule.

DELAYED BIRTHDAY REACTION

HAPPY BIRTHDAY TO PEABO

Sorry I didn't call. And sorry about the rain on your birthday. I had this whole fan-dancer routine worked out I was going to perform in your yard, but it'll have to wait until a sunnier day.

Whenever I think of your birthday, I think of the time we all went rollerskating, you got kicked in the head with a skate, and we all gave up and watched Conan: The Destroyer at your house. You were seriously jacked up, but we all liked the movie. Leave it to your mom to have Conan on tap for a "plan B". Good lady, that Mrs. Peabo.

Also, one year, we went to Malibu and you totally smoked my sorry self on the track.

We had a lovely weekend.

Saturday we arrived at my folks' place, dropped off Melbotis, discovered my parents' air conditioner had died, got ready and then headed for Erica and Scott's big night.

The location wasn't too far off 288 in South Houston. It was a lovely, outdoor ceremony at dusk. The ceremony went off without a hitch, although I later heard rumors that the bride's mom had somehow disappeared prior to the ceremony and this caused some backstage consternation (no drama, she had just wandered off or something).

The reception was similarly lovely. Erica and I went to high school together, but whereas I showed up for the last three years of high school, Erica had lived in the same area since she was five. Therefore, there were a lot of faces at the wedding that I sorta-recognized, but was unable to put a name with. Aside from one, who, of course, had no recollection of me at all. And in this manner the cosmic wheel doles out justice.

Did some dancing, including some of my patented "Robot". Jamie looked totally foxy, so I got to appear as the guy with the cookie on his arm. Go, me.

Returned to Shannon and Josh's place, chatted a bit, got some sleep, and then got up in the morning yesterday for the post-wedding breakfast (which began at 8:00). The breakfast was obviously thought up by people who didn't plan on hanging near the bar at the wedding. Anyhoo, that was nice, and we got to see the bride and groom looking a little less stunned as they made their morning rounds.

Yesterday was Jamie's birthday, and I think my presents were sort of a dud, but she seemed happy enough. Shannon and Josh were nice enough to drop by for dinner.

I also found out (last, as always) that Julie B., wife of Cousin John, is expecting. Bully news, I say. John and Julie are great folks and will make ace parents, I have no doubt.

Today we dropped off Jamie at dialysis, I had lunch, then hit the road. It's raining like crazy in Austin, which I drove into around Giddings. It was all right. During Heather's recent visit, she'd loaned me a book-on-CD of Stephen King's "Dreamcatcher".

I haven't read any King since, maybe, middle-school. And somehow it's comforting to hear King's paid-by-the-word approach to a novel, with his squarely believable characters who eat the same junk you do, get hung up on the same minutia as your neighbors and are usually written awfully close to the folks you already know. In a way, it's sort of stunning how difficult a task that must be for writers to achieve. the Joe Averages who populate most novels are there specifically to remind you that average people are quirky and bizarre in their own way... But King's books are more interested in putting folks that could be you into some odd situations.

One of my great dis-satisfactions of trolling the New Fiction aisle at Barnes & Noble is that the characters all too often might as well appear in books down in the sci-fi and fantasy book sections for as much relevance as they have to my daily life. The kid winning the spelling bee with seemingly supernatural talent, the lonely widower bee keeper, the Indian kid stuck in a boat with a tiger, the Chinese peasant's family getting the tar kicked out of them for generations, the rich scenester with the tell-all about how they realized life isn't about doing copious amounts of blow, the Addams Family/dysfunctional family yarn... It's exciting to write about exciting people, no doubt. And we've all sat in a class where someone mistook their life for being worthy of novelization. So I'm not sure what the happy medium might be that I'm looking for.

That's not a knock on those books, it's much more of a knock on my own taste and patience. All stories worth telling, but none of which dwell anywhere near anything resembling the life of Bill and Kathy Armswagger in Goober Springs, Alabama. It's an oddity of the legacy of American Fiction that the person who may chronicle this period in the US most accurately might do so with stories of killer cars, rabid dogs and weird clown/ spiders. His characters are not just projections of who King wishes he could be, or cooler people living cooler lives than the author which King actually manages to swing...

That said, King still drives me nuts with his endless parenthetical asides (a crime which should be outlawed in any form of writing. It distracts, is tangential, and never really adds to the narrative at hand). I guess I'm mostly a glutton for narrative economy, possibly a by-product of reading too many comics and reading screenplays where much of the action is shown, not told. And I certainly see the flaws of which I feel guilty on the page in his work. Sometimes you wish he would simply kill his darlings... But what editor is going to tell King how to write at this point in his career?

That said, without the asides, how much of that detail I admire would survive? I'm conflicted, Leaguers.

Listening to it can be taxing, when you just want for him to describe the important action, not some-body's goofy hat.

I got through 3 discs today as I took an extra hour on taking The Admiral and KareBear's official shortcut from Manor to 71, and, I believe, missing a turn at 183. Then getting stuck in the molasses of Austin's traffic, when one adds in rain.

Jeff The Cat is quite happy that someone is home, and in a bit I'll head down to Jason's house to retrieve Lucy, whose been inside all day at Jason's. Tonight will be fun.

Flyin' A's, kidneys, weddings

It's been an okay week. We're headed out tomorrow for the wedding of Erica F., taking place somewhere in the greater Houston area. Erica's an old pal of mine from my days in high school, who wound up as one of Jamie's roommates in college. So, yeah, we go back a piece. Actually, if memory serves, Erica and I were tied for ranking in our high school class.

I've not actually met the husband-to-be as he came into the picture while we were in PHX, but early reports have been extremely positive. The bottom line is that I like a good party, and as long as they keep the ceremony short, who doesn't like a good wedding, too? It gives you a chance to really space out until the "I Do's" and the applause. I am unsure how much dancing I'll be doing at the ceremony, but I suppose I shall have to put in another round of doing The Robot.

I'm returning Monday, but Jamie (and Melbotis) will remain in Houston for most of the week. I have some business to attend to in Austin, but Jamie's getting worked up at Methodist Hospital in order to get back on the kidney recipient list. So, Karebear is taking jamie under wing and will be managing that detail. I feel sort of bad about not being there, but I don't think the procedures are going to be terribly upsetting or invasive. If they are, I guess I'm headed back to Houston.

Depending upon your religious preference, I would ask that all of you GET ON THE ORGAN DONOR'S LIST and then INFORM YOUR RELATIVES AS PER YOUR WISHES. If you die and your organs can be donated, many families refuse to go along with the checked box on the driver's license indicating organ and tissue donation. Understandably, it's an emotional time, and many people going through the grieving process may not wish to think about organ donation at one of the roughest times in their life. SO... make sure you speak up beforehand.

Last night we went to see Hilary and Stuart's band, The Flyin' A's, play at Artz Ribhouse. Turns out they're really very good, which i sort of knew, but it was my first time seeing them live, and they more than confirmed my suspicions. The Flyin' A's play some nice Texas country, but covered some Etta James and Johnny Cash as well. They play all the time, and I don't have a very good excuse as per why we haven't gone out to see them, but that's going to change. Folks in Austin (or other places they play (they go on tour this summer) should check them out. Our San Antonio contingent should know they're playing at Specht's on Saturday evening.

http://www.theflyinas.com/


Hope all is well with all of ya'll.

McNewspeak

When I was in high school, I first came across the term "McJob" in Douglas Coupland's book Generation X.

McJob: (page 5)

A low-pay, low-prestige, low-dignity, low-benefit, no-future job in the service sector. Frequently considered a satisfying career choice by people who have never held one.

And I think that last bit is the sinker.

Anyhow, it appears McDonald's is outraged that the job of burger flipper/ burger warmer is not held in the highest of esteem.

Read about it here.

Apparently unaware of how the English language works, McDonalds has started an effort to convince those they see as the "owners" of language that they've not given the term "McJob" a fair shake and seen the word the way their corporate decision makers would like the world to see the term "McJob". Oddly, these chroniclers of the language seem to go with how billions of English-speaking people use the term. What to do when you're an enormous corporation and you can't buy your way out of your sorry reputation as an employer.

From the article:

The Oxford English Dictionary, considered by many wordsmiths as the gold standard for the English language, is one of those that will be targeted. It defines the noun as "an unstimulating, low-paid job with few prospects, esp. one created by the expansion of the service sector."

I get freaked out by Newspeak at the best of times, but when you get the feeling a corporation is considering doing something pretty vile to try to demolish an image that's been somewhat fairly earned... I dunno. Kind of freaky. Rather than cowboy up and address the issue, is it really that much better to publicly take on the Dictionary?

Somehow, this generates images in my head of the burger wars from the mostly not-discussed Frank Miller comic "Give Me Liberty" in which the US goes to war to protect fast food cows in the Amazon.

I don't want for anyone to misconstrue this particular rant for some sort of disrespect for the hard working burgermeisters who prepare my fast food. The League has not worked fast food, but... We DID work at Chuck E. Cheese, which is mediocre, slowly produced food delivered in a temple in which all pizza eating worshippers must halt eating and conversation in reverence to a mechanical gigantic mouse in a hat. We swept up pizza crusts, handed out tokens to kids when the machine "ate" their token, oversaw the ball crawl*, and polished the vertical bars on the mini-carousel. I've slung records at the Camelot and pimped Tinkerbell shirts at the Disney Store. There is such a thing as a job where the downers (usually created by inept or negative management) greatly outweigh the $4.75 an hour. In two of these three jobs I was asked to wear an ill-fitting and humiliating uniform (we actually requested silver jumpsuits to wear when I worked at UT. Request denied). And had managers that, on a good day, were indifferent to me at best.

I had no skills, no experience, no future within the organization, and was constantly reminded of as much. If not for school and the promise of becoming a middle-class wage slave, I might have given in to the gripping despair that one can only find when told to keep glass doors clean in a restuarant full of children who've been handling pizza, tokens, tickets, and wiping snot on their own palms. For $4.25 or whatever minimum wage was in 1990.

But I also lived with my parents, and/or was earning supplemental money while in school which my folks generously assisted with. I am not an eighteen year old kid living in Goober Springs, Alabama where options are McDonalds or tending to my Uncle's Used Tire Emporium. So when that kid hears "McJob", I have no idea what he or she must think. But I hope to God that with the power of television and our educational system, Buddy McBarnes from Goober Springs at least knows that there may be more opportunity available than what ends when you pass the Exxon and it's all trees again along the freeway.

Thusly, mad respect for folks in the service industry, but I also know that the bright-eyed promising student is far and few between who says "I want to spend my life earning minimum wage and microwaving McMuffins."

Curiously, the CEO of McDonald's from a few years back was once a burger pimp, himself. Here's an article from when someone died and Bell took over.

Bell began his career with the fast-food chain at age 15 as a part-time crew member at a McDonald's restaurant in Sydney, Australia.

He became the company's youngest store manager in Australia at 19, a vice president at 27 and a member of the McDonald's Australia board of directors by the time was 29 years old.

"This is an absolutely right choice," said S&P's Milton. "Cantalupo relied on Bell a lot for crafting the turnaround. This is someone who has been with the company for a significant period of time."

That's awesome. I bet Bell's staff is made up entirely of the crew he started with at that Australian McDonald's**. What happened to you, Bell? You used to be from the street, dawg! You knew what it was to flip a burger and clean up some kids' barf from the McDonaldland Playscape!*** You sold out, Bell. You sold out.

Minimum wage isn't really the thrust of the phrase "McJob". A McJob is more about the drudgery of many jobs that's cropped up since the Industrial Revolution as people become cogs in an assembly line, whether that be McDonalds employees leaping into action when the frier makes that awful "WHEEEEEEEEEEET! WHEEEEEEEEEEEET!" noise. Or whether that person is wearing a tie, sitting in a cube where they can't be seen, anyway, and calling people to donate to the Austin Policemen's Charity (the tie makes you all professional-like).

There's something far more frightening about the white-collar McJob. It's a job intended to mark time, is mostly insulting to the intelligence, and can usually be identified by how often the manager insists that they are a professional of some sort and how unnecessarily cumbersome the tasks assigned to wage slave actually are. Usually because nobody ever bothered to ask the employees how to improve the processes they do all day, which the executives have never actually performed. But they DO pay well enough, these jobs... and there's not necessarily the same sense of temporary employment that pervades when one is loaned their pants and told they must return them when they quit. And, of course, in the white-collr McJob, you are surrounded by lots of other people all doing the same job, many of whom have been their for years and never once considered a promotion.

What's curious is that McDonalds is going after the dictionary in the same manner they go after our elected officials whenever it's suggested the minimum wage see an increase. As I recall, in order to try to dodge out of some legislation or other that might effect the bottomline, McDonald's attempted to reassign their employees from the food-prep category to some sort of assembly line technician. I can't find it now, but in my commute in PHX, I recall hearing the story on NPR.

Perhaps if McDonalds paid a bit better, perhaps if the drudgery of the position wasn't punctuted only with being shouted at by furious managers and customers... McDonalds might be able to actually convince those of us who've used the term "McJob" without blinking for fifteen years to drop the term if their employees did not always look miserable and their turnover wasn't well known as one of the highest turnover positions in any industry. (As someone who has managed part time employees, turn over is a huge time killer and makes managers grumpy.)









*some new parents read this blog. I beseech of thee, if you care at all for your health or the health and safety of your children... do not let your child enter a public ball crawl. New parents don't want to think about this, but little kids are germ factories. Not only are they perpetually ill, they also have no concept of hygiene, and will wipe their nose with their hands and then leap into the ball crawl. It is IMPOSSIBLE to clean the balls in the ball crawl. And dozens and dozens of kids pass through a ball crawl each day, leaving their trail of germs on everything.

Also, while your child may be an angel, other kids are irresponsible horrors with no respect for their safety or that of anyone else. So expect for your kid to get a shin to the back of the head.

And last, but not least... and i can't believe I have to share this, but I speak from experience... Ball crawls are not a good place for infants. Do not toss your infant into the ball crawl in the high hopes that the disgruntled 16 year old watching the crawl will watch your kid while you pound back a cool Coors 16 oz'er. The ball crawl is about 3 feet deep. Your infant could easily disappear and not be found again until the semi-annual ball-crawl vaccuuming. Also, the note about the shin to the back of the head? Kids like to jump off the walls, pretending to be their favorite luchador, often in the direction of your infant's still unfused skull.

When considering the ball crawl, just.... don't.

**I know they eat beef in Australia, but what else is on the menu? Filet 'o Platypus? Koala Nuggets? Ah, it's funny to make fun of Australians. FACT: They're all reprehensible savages****.

***Why is it that really low-paying jobs often require the removal of vomit? I do recall that one of the reasons I was not liked (and I hadn't thought about this in a while) at the Disney Store was that when I was informed that some kid had tossed her cookies in the store, on carpet, I declared "I am not paid enough to clean up barf. At least not without that pink, granular stuff." Apparently not wanting to clean up barf makes you "not a team player". But, you know what... they weren't paying for benefits or nuthin'. I was supposed to shift from fixing the stuffed anaimal arrangements to scooping up vomit.
Other people's barf is super gross, and I don't think it's unreasonable to expect some sort of special compensation for cleaning it up. If we all worked together and refused to clean up barf for minimum wage, just imagine the utopia we'd all be living in.

****This is not an actual fact. I've met a few Australians, and while I get tired of hearing about how they find my slection of knife completely substandard, our friends from down under couldn't be a more decent people. In fact, if you'd like to point to anyone as an utter savage, it's Canadians, who, FACT: eat babies*****.

*****It is mostly not-true that Candians eat babies. At least not Canadian babies, or there would be no actual Canadians. I suspect some Canadians of cannibalism, but can prove nothing. They probably clean up barf for a shiny dime, too.******

******I feel sort of bad about that. That may have gone too far.

King of Hobos/ PROJECT: H.A.R.M.S.

So last night Steven and I had dinner and he showed me some work he'd been doing lately for the Mellies. Steven is working on an application that will allow Loyal Leaguers to enter a UI and fill in their responses to the queries. This doesn't particularly help you, but it sure as heck helps me.

And, because Steven is King of the Hobos, he has decided to live his life on The Rails. he's trying to learn the technology, and I'm trying to get free help. In this way, my lamprey-like life continues. I'm a bit fascinated with what he's doing, and when he wraps up, we'll have a chat about what this is doing that a JAVA/ Cold Fusion interface wouldn't have done, or what else might have been a competing option. I can feel my work brain kicking in again after too many months of dormancy. Plus, it's a new technology, and while I may never learn to write for it, I can certainly learn about the features.

(I am thinking we need BLOCKS for the users to fill in rather than scrolling lines).

Anyway, Project: H.A.R.M.S. is saving the day.

But what does H.A.R.M.S. stand for?

You decide...

Humanoid
Android
Robotic
Man-Like
Synthoid
?

Fudge

So I was working on this sort of pointless, mid-week filler post for Comic Fodder regarding the value of Power Girl in the DCU, even when artists are complete morons.


Cover to JLA #10, which defies logic and gravity

There's nothing like a Michael Turner cover to suddenly make you embarassed for buying a comic. This is the JL-freaking-A, not Juggs Magazine. I, along with 80,000 readers, was going to buy this comic if the cover was blank and made of butcher paper. But, Turner went and ruined it.

Anyway, the point was that this sort of nonsense detracts from a character, especially one that is already treated like the class joke by a lot of creators who still giggle like a thirteen year old when they think of boobies. There was a dicier portion of the post for which i needed quotes, links and whatnot as I disagreed with a blogger's statements I'd read elsewhere. I just couldn't remember where I'd seen the post.

I looked and looked.

I'm currently using the latest Explorer, which is not unlike Firefox in that it provides me with tabs. Over at Comic Fodder, I try to behave as a bit more of a journalista, citing sources, lots of linking, etc... the tabs help me stay organized as I jump from pane to pane, looking for material.

All i really needed to do was find that last link and I could start wrapping the thing up. I'd looked at more than a dozen likely sites, and hit a site which was clearly NOT my site, and which didn't want to load...

And then IE went all IE on me, and shut down my unsaved post, the page I was looking at, and a few other references I had in pocket. I was utterly shocked, but felt like I'd learned an important MS IE lesson. I don't know what sites I'll hit, so I need to start saving more often and consider going back to just using multiple windows.

Maybe it's for the best. That post won't see the light of day, and I can maybe think about it a little harder and do my proper legwork before writing. Still, that was a particularly large amount of documentation for that particular column.

That was like 1.5 hours gone poof on me.

Darn you IE.

Congrats to Jeff and Keora

I sort of quickly mentioned it the other day, but congrats to Jeff Shoemaker and his new bride, Keora.

They were married Friday at the Travis County Courthouse with family in attendance. I've known Jeff since 1993 where we shared a community bathroom in Jester. Keora I did not meet until this Fall when we returned to Austin.

You see a lot of couples that you don't have a whole lot of faith in, and you see other couples that, together, might drive you a bit nuts. Not so these two. Together they provide a united fighting front that's really going to clean up crime in Star City.

A Bit of Difference

As I recall, Leaguer Randy once opined something along the lines of "Why does The League obsess about Austin? Stop living in the past, dude."



The past week or so has proven to me in no small degree that our return to Waterloo was a well-conceived plan, if you don't take my current jobless situation into account.

1) Last Friday, my former roommate and eternal pal was here for SXSW hi-jinks. I was able to see the guy and dine out with he and other friends. This led to running into old pal, Amy C. No longer same-city e-mail pals, we got to catch up.
2) The parents were able to come for a nice weekend March Birthday celebration last weekend.
3) Monday night, Nathan C. (no relation to Amy C) was in town for SXSW. Got to catch up with one heck of a guy and once-again expectant father.
4) Not much going on Tuesday aside from Crack fun.
5) Wednesday, outdoors in the rain, got to see some fun music and rock out. Also allowed to participate in said rocking.
6) Wagner arrives for the rocking.
7) Wednesday night was "booze night".
8) Thursday mostly uneventful, but Wagner continues to linger.
9) Thursday night prioved difficult to find a place to eat as SXSW is everywhere. Jamie grumpy, but, honestly, I was just happy we had options. Just not something we had in AZ.
10) Friday braved the crowds and hit certain shops in pursuit of Jason's birthday present.
11) Friday night somewhat tame as I miss the FREE Public Enemy Show, then proceed to miss a birthday party as I just couldn't bear the thought of going into town during SXSW.
12) Saturday hit Curra's for Jason's b-day lunch. (Finally re-locate Texicalli... which is next door to Curra's).
13) Saturday night is Jason's B-Day party at his place. I hang green streamers and almost deafen the birthday boy when "popper" is actually very loud and does not just shoot confetti as I believed.
14) Spend some time with Jason's quality friends, including catching a rare glimpse of the elusive Meredith Shaw. Although the evening's highlight may have come with Ellie's gigantic Hulk hand beer holder.
15) Nearing midnight head to Pat's where I see The My for the first time since 2000, meet his wife, and am also able to celebrate wedding of pal Jeff Shoemaker (formerly a Loyal Leaguer) who had a small civil ceremony on Friday.
16) Sunday, some folks from Saturday late party drop by, we all wind up having a late dinner at Trudy's.

Last year at this time we were getting rained out of the Ostrich Fest.

Sure, this week was crazy. It was nutty crazy. And next weekend we have a wedding in Houston (Bug's wedding)). The following weekend the lovely La La is marrying this Mike fellow.

The League likes a busy calendar. We enjoy having stuff to do and peopel to do it with. Somehow this tops the weekend trip to Target being our only journey out of the house from Friday to Monday.

Yes, it's been a good week.

Now, if only I had a job.