Cindy Crawford's B-Spot

Today's Pearls Before Swine

2011-06-05T15:17:00.000-07:00

Charlie Brown's definition of love

2011-05-21T17:14:00.000-07:00

"I'm the Easter Rabbit... hoo-ray!"

2011-04-21T20:04:00.000-07:00

Bugs Bunny - Easter Yeggs

Introducing my official YouTube channel

2011-04-03T23:11:00.000-07:00

I guess I have to face the fact that Google Video isn't coming back. I've never been impressed with the video lagtime, digital delay, and related issues that go along with videos on YouTube, but they are the dominant destination for free online media, so I guess I need to get used to it. Google Video seemed more streamlined, the video seemed more crisp, and I miss the ease of it all. Oh well. Time marches on.

My YouTube channel is very bare bones at the moment. The only videos I have presently stored on my computer are my video blogs from the six months I recently spent in Central Asia. A few of the videos I'd posted on my Google Video account will need to be uploaded again onto YouTube, but that isn't a top priority. Feel free to check them out, post comments, subscribe to my channel, and just generally increase traffic to my online content. For future reference, you can review and watch videos I post on the link in the right column of my blog.

Share and enjoy.

The evolution of ideas

2011-04-03T19:32:00.000-07:00

One of the odd things about teaching is how it does seem to place life in astounding perspective. I teach technology to college students, and -- though the class isn't centered on the history of computers -- I often take a minute or two to place things into a historical context. Inevitably, when I do so, it makes me feel my age. It also gets me to thinking about how times have changed.

When I teach about the formation of companies like Microsoft or Apple, those things occurred around the time I was born. In my lifetime, I have witnessed the death of 8-tracks, vinyl records, audio cassettes, and compact discs. I can recall dial-up connections to the internet, and I can recall when the internet was more-or-less text-only. I began a blog in my college years (and even gained some notoriety for it), but the term "blogger" hadn't even been invented yet -- I was just an online writer.

I was around when the nation still looked forward to receiving 500 channels of television, and I was around when we received them and realized there was still nothing worth watching. I graduated in 1996 with a degree in broadcast communications. I had learned how to wire and synchronize all the equipment in an analog television station; a year later, the digital revolution took place and nearly everything I learned had suddenly been rendered obsolete. Console televisions came in hefty wood (or simulated wood) cabinets and sat on the floor. Beta and VHS battled for supremacy. OnTV and SelecTV battled for supremacy. HD-DVD and Blu-Ray battled for supremacy.

In the late 1990s, I was mocked by my friends when I bought a cellphone, because none of them could fathom why I (or anyone) would need such a device. Around five years later, many of those same friends mocked me for owning such an old cellphone, because we all had to have the latest and greatest. I've seen the rise and fall of pagers and FAX machines, AOL and Netscape, PowerBooks and Newtons, digital watches and Swatch watches.

The Christmas when we received an Atari 2600 (with Pac-Man) stands out as one of my favorite childhood memories. The day I cashed out an old life insurance policy to buy a Nintendo 64 stands out as one of the most frivolous wastes of money I've ever done (fun though).

I remember the advent of MTV, as well as the almost uncelebrated moment when VH1 came into being. I also recall when MTV and VH1 dropped their respective nonstop music video formats in favor of teen oriented fare (though to this day they deny who their target audience was). The arrival of early rappers like Run DMC and The Fat Boys seemed a logical musical progression from soul/R&B, but the sudden, violent transformation of the genre seemed to come out of nowhere. I can recall when music wasn't sampled, synthesized, lip-synced, or auto-tuned.

All these realizations can make one feel old, and it can make one feel somewhat jaded and cynical when it comes to embracing new technologies. But in a sense I am optimistic. Almost every technological breakthrough I listed seemed -- at the time -- like the pinnacle of what we could achieve. And yet the bar has been raised higher time and time again. It seems like every failure (the Lisa, the Newton, the Cube -- all from Apple) paved the way for something greater (the Macintosh, the iPad, the iMac -- all from Apple).

I actually like it that what was state-of-the-art when I was a kid is now quaint if not old fashioned. What has me concerned, however, is that some of the technology has been stagnant. The space shuttle program that evolved in the 1970s never quite got updated, and this year it will shut down forever. The large hadron collider -- designed in an era when the technology required to operate it hadn't even been invented yet -- will shut down this year, too. There has been no manned mission to Mars. There have been no flying cars. Disneyland's Monorail never quite proved viable outside the confines of the Happiest Place on Earth.

If these stalled technologies really are just steps to something better, we appear to have found ourselves immobilized. I've become convinced that mankind no longer evolves physically (whether we once did is another debate for another day). Instead, mankind grows technologically. If we are to better ourselves, we have to keep developing new gadgets to make our lives better. If we don't, then we risk becoming obsolete as a species, and we'll have to make room for something else to take our place.

The USA has online tech support

2010-09-23T10:39:00.000-07:00

My multiple calls to the Kazakh Embassy have been fruitless. Yesterday I was told to call back today. This morning, I was told to call back in an hour (when, according to the embassy website, the consular office would be closed). When I called back an hour later, I was told to call back in another four hours. Asking for a specific voicemail box doesn't work because the voicemail boxes are all full. In short, my passport (and possibly visa) are being held hostage in the Kazakh Embassy in Washington DC.

Undaunted (OK -- slightly daunted), I set about finding someone within my own government who could assist me. My first choice was the State Department, but their delightful automated call center had no option to press for "passports held hostage" and there was no option available to speak to a live operator. Same goes for the White House itself, and that is a shame because its switchboard used to be manned by friendly and courteous people. Back to the internet I went. Knowing that all government websites in the US end with the suffix .gov, I eventually found USA.gov, a website with the catchy slogan, "Government made easy." And, easy as could be, there was a link to chat online with a live person to get the sort of personal, individualized attention I wasn't getting from the automated numbers I was calling (to say nothing of the lack of attention -- if not misdirection -- I've been getting from the Kazakh Embassy).

One click and I was online with "Anthony O." Things did not go well:

Anthony O.: Hi, my name is Anthony O.. How may I help you?
Kevin : I need to know which I agency or department I can contact. I sent my passport to the Kazakhstan Embassy in DC on the 10th and applied for a work visa. Their website states it would take 3-5 business days to process. It has been 10 business days. When I call the embassy, I get the runaround (they tell me to call back later, or I get transferred to a voicemail box that is full).
Anthony O.: I can help locate some information on that subject for you. Please give me a few moments while I do some research.
Kevin : Thank you
Anthony O.: I suggest you contact the Embassy of Kazakhstan for information regarding the process necessary to file a complaint on them. Unfortunately, there is no United States government office that you can file a complaint with on a foreign government embassy in this country.
Kevin : But nobody in the embassy will take my calls!
Kevin : I do not wish to file a complaint. I wish someone to help me resolve the issue!
Anthony O.: You may also wish to contact your elected officials for possible additional assistance. I can provide you contact information for your elected officials as well, if your prefer.
Kevin : What about the state department? Isn't there someone in that agency to help in matters such as this?
Anthony O.: Unfortunately, no. There is no office in the U.S. to file a complaint with on a foreign government embassy.
Kevin : I DO NOT wish to file a complaint. I wish to resolve the issue. Are you telling me there is nobody in the government who can direct questions to someone in another government's embassy?
Anthony O.: That is correct.
Kevin : Wow. I didn't believe the United States government could be thwarted by an embassy on their own soil.
Anthony O.: I hope you find this information helpful. Do you have any other questions?
Kevin : You provided no information. You provided no help.
Kevin : My government genuinely has no interest/concern that a foreign agency has a United States passport in their possession and that agency refuses to speak to or respond to the owner of the passport?
Anthony O.: You may wish to contact your elected officials, or a licensed attorney for possible additional assistance. Would you like some contact information for either?
Kevin : So the answer to my previous question is "no"?
Anthony O.: This is the only suggestion that we can provide for possible additional assistance in this matter.
Kevin : Answer my question please: My government genuinely has no interest/concern that a foreign agency has a United States passport in their possession and that agency refuses to speak to or respond to the owner of the passport?
Anthony O.: If you are seeking an official statement in regards to your inquiry, I suggest you contact your elected officials. Would you like their contact information?
Kevin : I am not seeking an official statement. I am seeking a direct answer to my question: My government genuinely has no interest/concern that a foreign agency has a United States passport in their possession and that agency refuses to speak to or respond to the owner of the passport?
Anthony O.: That is a question that we cannot provide a general answer for. I suggest you contact your elected officials for an answer to your inquiry.
Kevin : And you honestly believe my senator or congressman will be able to assist me with an embassy?
Anthony O.: I suggest you contact them to see if they can provide any assistance in this matter. Would you like contact information for your elected officials?
Kevin : Sure. I live in Southern California. I'd like the phone numbers and e-mail addresses of every one of my elected officials.
Anthony O.: The following House.gov web site provides contact information for U.S. Representatives.
https://writerep.house.gov/writerep/welcome.shtml
Additionally, the following Senate.gov web site provides contact information for U.S. Senators.
http://www.senate.gov/general/contact_information/senators_cfm.cfm
Kevin : So, you won't even give me that information directly -- you'll direct me to yet another website(s)?
Anthony O.: I suggest you utilize the web links that I have provided you for assistance in locating the requested contact information that you are seeking.
Kevin : How much money do you make an hour? Or is it a salary position? I assume you have health care.
Anthony O.: Sorry, I cannot disclose any personal information.
Kevin : Apparently, you cannot disclose any information at all, personal or otherwise.
Anthony O.: Do you have any other government related questions that I can assist you with?
Kevin : Here... how about an easy one before I go: What is 2 + 2?
Anthony O.: I would be happy to assist you with a legitimate government inquiry. If you don’t have such a question, I will disconnect this chat session.
Kevin : Yeah, I guess that was too tough for you. You should know that, as is always the case with my government, you as its online representative have been no help at all.
Anthony O.: Since you do not have a government related inquiry that I can help you with, I will need to disconnect this chat session so I may assist other citizens with their inquiries. Have a great day. Goodbye.
Anthony O. has disconnected.

Government made easy.

From Guinness to Vitamin Water Zero

2010-03-13T09:57:00.000-08:00

Guinness 1: At this stage, my first reaction is not sadness for myself, but sadness for the morons who fail to grasp the basic concept. For them, I feel genuine pity. They are the lowest of the low, and they don't even realize it.

Guinness 2: Called my mom and one of my brothers. My brother farted into the phone a few times which made me smile. I guess my second reaction is that I cannot believe the way in which this was handled. No tact. It was all done behind my back, and they smiled at me the whole time as if we were friends. To twist the classic line: No friends here, just strangers I've met.

Guinnes 3: Texting a few people and sending a few private e-mails. My third reaction is that, if I were in charge of something and I saw a way in which someone under me could do something better or at least differently, I would have the stones to speak my mind. Some people are just stoneless, I guess.

Guinness 4: Didn't spell Guinness correctly earlier. Funny. My fourth reaction is I have spent the last several years trying to serve something greater than myself. Four years of teaching. My time in the Peace Corps. I even considered working in the DA's office a form of service (the PD had no openings at the time). Through it all, I wanted to serve something greater than myself, and each time I hit a roadblock.

Guinness 5: I wonder where the grace is in intolerance. I wonder where the grace is in prejudice. I wonder where the grace is in not giving someone the opportunity to prove his or her worth. I wonder where the grace is in forcing faith. I wonder where the grace is in condemnation.

Guinness 6: Grooving to blues. BB King and Eric Clapton have mad skills. This whole thing went down badly. Back in November I asked direct questions and was lied to. Had I been told the truth, things might be different today. I asked the question directly months ago -- the question that strikes at the heart of this. And I was reassured that it wasn't about me. Once again, people feel the need to pussyfoot around.

Guinness 7: I'm far from perfect. Say I'm too abrasive or recalcitrant. Say I can't relate to certain people. All of these are fair criticisms. But I've thought hard about this and they just are not right about this. It took me years to be able to justify my faith to myself and to others. On this singular point, I feel I'm on solid ground. I should get bonus points for correctly typing "recalcitrant" after 7 beers.

Guinness 8: After eight beers, I'm reduced to laughter. You know that old chestnut when someone breaks up with someone else and he/she says, "It's not you, it's me"? Well, to-whom-it-may-concern: It's not me, it's you. My culpability comes in the form of sitting in silence while you have messed things up, and, ironically, I sat in silence out of fear of the repercussions should I speak out.

Vitamin Water Zero: Just reread last night's running/drinking commentary. I stand by it. And I'll be fine, by the way. It was probably time for a change anyway, and now I am more motivated than ever to make that change happen.

A Born Loser

2010-02-23T11:24:00.001-08:00

Finding meaning...

2009-12-06T15:05:00.000-08:00

One of my favorite installments of "Outland"

Счастье

2009-11-22T10:11:00.000-08:00

Another "Happiness Week" has come and gone. It was a rocky start, no doubt about that, but it ended well enough. And now I'm on vacation, only not really. I'm scheduled to depart for a three day conference in the middle of the freakin' desert. In other words, the coming week isn't likely to be a happy one... at least not the first three days of it. After that, between strange goings-on in Santa Monica on Wednesday and Thanksgiving on Thursday, there should be some happiness by the week's end.

Still, throughout the week, I was reminded of many reasons why I need to seek out ways to be happy. Mostly, those reason came in the form of seeing others far worse off than me. A local school with a small student population lost a parent of one of its students, and it isn't the first parent lost at that school since the school year began. The mother of a former student of mine is dying of cancer. A friend might have to have a surgery which would prevent her from being able to have children. I saw one homeless guy ask another homeless guy for money, and, though it reminded me of the humorous "beggars begging from beggars" scene in "History of the World: Part One," it was a cautionary tale. It is easy to find reasons to be sad or angry. You have to work at happiness.

Most of what makes me unhappy are situations and decisions that are out of my control. But I've found that, with only a few exceptions, happiness comes from within. Oh sure, there is a woman on this planet whose very voice is enough to cheer me up, but situations and decisions that are out of my control prevent me from hearing that voice on a regular basis, so I have to find the happy on my own. And it isn't always easy.

Certainly, I can't be the only one who has noticed that it takes a while to work up to a state of happiness, but one can become unhappy in an instant. It seems unfair, like clawing and scratching to get to the top of a tall peak, only to discover you hadn't really reached the top at all -- that there is another, taller peak that must be climbed.

I have to remind myself to cherish the little things like a positive day at work or a good parking space in front of my apartment. I have to remind myself to begin each day anew, regardless of how bad the previous day may have been. I have to remind myself to laugh at life's absurdities, or they will consume me from the inside-out. I have to remind myself that some people consider it a privilege to be allowed to travel to a fancy hotel in a desert oasis, free of charge.

And, in the spirit of the season, I have to be thankful for what I have. And I even need to be thankful for what I've lost, because a lot of folks would give anything for the experiences I've had and the friendships I've made, even knowing nothing lasts forever. I take it for granted that things were better before, because that isn't the case for everyone. Some people have never experienced "better." I've shaken hands with world leaders and been called names by pop singers. I may not have climbed Mt. Everest, but I've lived a life.

Jim Morrison reminded us that, "We're all in the cosmic movie... You better have some good incidents happening and a fitting climax." And despite him being frequently stoned to the point where he could neither stand nor speak, there was often truth and wisdom in his words. Just as Walt Whitman wrote about the "powerful play," Morrison updated the reference. I have inadvertently stolen a scene or two in the cosmic movie, but it is too soon to tell what genre of film we are all in (I'm hoping it is neither a horror flick nor a modern-day tragedy), or how whether it will have the requisite "happy ending."

I want my scenes, my verses, my existence to have a positive meaning. I want to make a contribution. And I don't want to be remembered as a negative, depressing, melancholic lump. I want to be happy. I want to serve something greater than myself. And I don't want to have to work so hard at it, but I am keenly aware that nothing worth having comes easily.

Here's hoping your week was a happy one, and that you learned something from the experiment.

Another Podcast Adventure

2009-11-16T22:12:00.000-08:00

It has been nearly nine months since I last compiled a list of podcast recommendations, so I guess I am overdue. In the interest of full disclosure, I have probably recommended many of the following on an individual basis, but I am just obsessive-compulsive enough to feel compelled to list them here:

"The Bugle - Audio Newspaper For A Visual World"
John Oliver (a.k.a. that British dude from "The Daily Show") and Andy Zaltzman (longtime fan of cricket) live on opposite sides of the pond, but they come together each week to riff on current events. Or, in the alternative, if current events aren't interesting enough, they just make stuff up. I laugh more during this podcast than any other time in the week.

"John Cleese Podcast"
Infrequently updated, but I discovered this one a month or so ago and have been liberally sampling the selections. There is some fun video-blog stuff, and a few of the podcasts are simply speeches videotaped and uploaded. But there is some prepared comedy worth checking out.

"Kevin Pollak's Chat Show"
I'm an unapologetic fan of Pollak's and have been since the first time I heard his stand-up routine, "Star Trek V: In Search of Cash." His podcasts are Herculean in length, if not originality, and feature Pollak interviewing a wide variety of stars from comedy, movies, television, and music. These are long-form, sometimes intense interviews that will take casual viewers a little getting used to. But it is worth making the adjustment.

"Robert Llewellyn's Carpool"
Carpool is a series of interviews conducted by the guy who played Kryton on "Red Dwarf," the gimmick being the interviews take place as Llewellyn drives the interview subject to or from somewhere in a hybrid vehicle. The audio can sometimes be atrocious, but Dwarfers in particular will enjoy the conversations that take place on the mean UK streets.

"Rocketboom"
I discovered correspondent Ella Morton just last week when I happened upon her interview with Cookie Monster. It was love at first sight. Her video blogs are sharply edited and full of wit. And she was kind enough to add me as a friend on Facebook, so I feel obligated to pimp her segments on Rocketboom, an arts, culture, and commentary podcast.

"Stephen Fry's Podgrams"
I am late to the Stephen Fry party, and I'm not entirely certain the crowd is to my liking. I can't tell if he's a bitter and cantankerous old goof or a sage and acerbic comedic statesman. Sample his podcasts and let me know what you think.

"Today in the Past"
Brief snippets from another correspondent from "The Daily Show," John Hodgman. He has created a page-a-day calendar based on portions of his most recent book, "More Information Than You Require." For those who aren't familiar with Hodgman's book, it (and this podcast) is filled with an assortment of untrue facts. The November 12th entry about Wallace Shawn is a particular favorite of mine. Hodgman is also the most recent subject of the "iTunes: Meet the Author" podcast, for those who missed it.

"WTF with Marc Maron Podcast"
This semi-regular (one or two new installments per week) podcast has replaced the Smodcast as my source of pod-based frat humor. Maron begins every podcast with what he considers a rave review of his sponsor, a coffee company. He takes a sip of coffee, pauses, then screams "Pow! I just sh*t my pants!" Sets the tone for the show. It is a fun and insightful podcast featuring a lot of comedians and a lot of industry talk.

P.S.
The movie channels have been periodically posting full-length episodes of their TV shows as podcasts. I caught the season premiere of "Californication" in podcast form, as well as the series premiere of "Bored to Death." You have to watch for these, as they come and go without much fanfare. And I'd be remiss if I didn't point out that the iTunes Store moved the iTunes University to its own special segment of the Store (installments of which are no longer counted as podcasts). Carnegie Mellon has posted Randy Pausch's "Last Lecture" on iTunes U, as well as another full-length lecture of his. Thanks to iTunes U, I've enjoyed Q&A sessions with Alan Alda and David Sedaris, to name but a few. And I'm nearly halfway through a course on "Game Theory" offered by Professor Ben Polak at Yale University (tough course, but an amazing professor and the lessons learned have real-world applications). In the same vein, you should check out the "Free on iTunes" segment of the iTunes Store, which often contains full episodes of TV shows, music videos, or panel discussions (checking just now, I see they're presently offering the first two episodes of "Ally McBeal" for those who might be interested). Most of what I've listed in this paragraph is only offered "free" for a limited time, so I'd suggest routinely checking (unless you don't mind paying for what others receive for free).

Previous Podcast Reviews:
February 2008
May 2008
February 2009

"Ah, dear, don't have a fuss. I'll have your Spam. I love it!"

2009-11-11T19:33:00.000-08:00

Isn't it nice to have a day off? A day to honor the veterans, a day to read a book, a day to plow through boatloads of e-mailed spam? Yes, I took a little time to rummage through the e-mails dropped into my spam folder, because, sometimes, important e-mails fall through the cracks. Sure enough here are a few that I need to follow up on:

Cleotilde Svetland wrote an e-mail with the subject, "Winter Sale! Codeine, Hydrocodone, Vicodine, Xanex & Valium." What better way to prepare cold and lonely season than by stocking up on recreational painkillers? Laugh if you will, but Jonna Angelo and Loriann Pasty, whoever they are, each sent me e-mails with the same subject. Clearly, they know about previous holidays-gone-bad and are just looking out for me.

Apparently, someone calling themselves "me" wrote to me. In the subject to me, me asked me, "It's me, any information about Mike?" Since I do not, as of yet, have any information about Mike, I have not replied to me. But rest assured, me is looking into it.

From out of nowhere, jimgreen wrote to share the following: "She mixed the dough with sour cream." Not knowing what it was she was supposed to have been making, I do not know if this is a good or a bad thing. I'm not a sour cream fan, though I do like foods which begin as dough, so it could go either way.

Here's one I nearly missed. The one and only bluecatfishman wrote to inform me that "Lady Jingly answered sadly." Look, friends, depression is no laughing matter, and I have always known Lady Jingly to be upbeat and chipper, so this really affects me. Jingly, if you're out there, give me a... well... jingle?

I cannot believe that an e-mail from my colleague cocacolera found its way into my spam folder. Seeing the subject "Still the Turtle bore him well, and I hate your son," at least now I won't be caught off guard. I can offer up a timely response the next time I run into cocacolera in the street, which could be any day now.

Abbe Burton spoke for her entire generation when she sent me an e-mail with the subject, "Music Good Said." It is a little too short for a proper haiku, but as free verse poetry goes, Abbe Burton is a force to be reckoned with.

I seem to be getting a lot of international e-mails these days, mostly from places I once visited or lived. Japanese native 地貸款成數。銀行到期還單代墊, a.k.a. Bank Arriving At Period Generation, wrote to tell me the following: "信用狀額度變現。房屋全額貸款." Though I am not fluent in Japanese, I ran it through my computer's handy, dandy translation software and learned: "Confidence degree of amount reality. Room house payment in full rental." Noted, good sir. Noted.

Last but not least, a Cyrillic cousin of mine, kaval 3, wrote to tell me: "Русские домашние оргиий. Здесь есть даже девушка для которой это в первый раз. Наслаждайтесь!!" With two exclamation points, I was all-too-eager to learn kaval 3 was telling me about a "Russian domestic orgy. Here is even girl for which this the first time. Delight in!!"

So, if you'll excuse me, I have an important appointment, and if anybody knows how to fix my spam folder so I don't keep nearly losing these important e-mails, let me know.

Today's Non Sequitur

2009-10-29T09:52:00.000-07:00

For my atheist friends...

День рождения

2009-10-12T21:47:00.000-07:00

I don’t really feel like being profound. I don’t want to be ticked off. By the time most people read this, I’ll be another year older. Some birthdays excite me. Other birthdays annoy me. This birthday holds no emotional connection whatsoever. It is simply Tuesday. No big deal. Not bad. Not good. It just is.

Last week, I attempted an online experiment wherein I tried to post nothing but upbeat, positive, happy things. I even tried to eliminate the sarcasm. And this online experiment spilled over into the real world, to such an extent that anyone showing even the faintest signs of sadness or depression was annoying to me. It reminded me of my days in retail, when you were supposed to greet each customer with a smile and a friendly turn-of-phrase. I was adopting a persona who was similar to me in many ways, but different in others. I was a Stepford Kevin.

The thing is, I can understand why one should be superficial and emotionally dishonest with total strangers who want nothing more than to buy something. However, I would hope that when I am happy, my friends would be there to join in the revelry, and when I am sad or angry, my friends would be there to try to raise me up. Because if all someone is interested in is the superficial and the dishonest, I really have no interest in having that someone in my life. Oh sure, I’ll sell them stuff, but that is hardly my idea of friendship.

I have spent a majority of my life trying to be there for other people. I have tried to be there for people who, frankly, treated me like crap. I try to continue to be there for people, regardless of circumstance. And I have no regrets about that; in fact, helping others is a big part of what makes me happy. I’m not looking for quid-pro-quo. All I’m looking for is a little bit of compassion on the bad days, and connectedness on the good days.

In a perfect world, this would not be an issue. But this year I seem to be fighting a lot of battles on multiple fronts. I’ve never felt so exhausted. I’ve never felt so put upon. I’ve never wanted to run screaming from my life more than I do at this moment. I know, this sounds extreme, and it makes me sound depressed or angry or whatever. But all I really want is a little bit more than I presently have. No need for a mansion or Cindy Crawford – I’d just like to feel slightly more secure… more at peace… more loved.

In other words, people have a tendency to wish people “Happy Birthday,” but all I’m really after is a birthday moderately better than the one I’m expecting. Genuine happiness is an ambitious goal. It is a goal I’m still working on, but it is unlikely to be reached within the next 24 hours. Small steps.

Memories of Cliff

2009-09-24T10:23:00.000-07:00

Cliff Rowe walked up to me in journalism class one day and told me I should never be a journalist. I recoiled and asked why not. He told me, and I’m paraphrasing, that I can’t keep my @!#$ing opinions to myself. He was right, and, though I didn’t appreciate it at that moment, I ultimately came to respect his honesty.

In turn, I feel compelled to be honest about Cliff. To begin with, I could never make heads or tails of his handwriting. I’d get papers back that he’d graded, and then go through the arduous task of deciphering Cliff’s comments in the margins. Eventually, I learned that what I saw as “odd tub” was actually “good job.” It was like learning a second language.

And it should be made known to Cliff that anyone who has ever taken a class from Cliff has also attempted, at some point, to impersonate his unique vocal style. For those out of practice, the phrase that always brings it home is “seditious libel.” Those two words seem to hit all the right Cliff-inflections. Try it if you don’t believe me.

About a year after I’d graduated, I was working as an NBC Page in “beautiful downtown Burbank,” when I received an e-mail from Cliff. He told me he was taking a group of students to an SPJ conference in Southern California. I suggested he come to NBC and I would lead him on one of my studio tours. He arrived one afternoon with his students in tow. Along the way, we bumped into Jay Leno, who proceeded to poke fun at Cliff and the students (“Professional journalists? Sounds like an oxymoron to me!”). Watching a former professor of mine get heckled by a well known talk show host was one of the more surreal moments of my life.

Last year, while walking along the beaches of San Diego, I happened upon a sign that made me laugh out loud. I made a point of e-mailing a picture of it to Cliff, who proudly replied that he’d posted it in his office:

What I will remember most is the respect that he had for his own profession, and the profession we were studying. He made a lot of jokes, but he took seriously the roles that we were to play. He emphasized the importance of truth – something we could stand to see more of in this day and age. And, to my dismay, he knew that a good journalist kept his opinions to himself. He hammered into our collective skulls the value of fact checking, and he predicted early on the potential unreliability of information on the internet.

A few years ago, I left the world of media and entered the world of teaching middle school. Some days, I find myself in my classroom, unintentionally speaking in a unique vocal style. It usually happens when I’m teaching the students about responsibility or honesty. It always happens when I talk about respect.

Thanks Cliff.

Fill-In-The-Blank Celebrity Eulogy

2009-09-14T23:11:00.000-07:00

We gather here today to mourn the passing of INSERT NAME OF DEAD CELEBRITY HERE. None of us have ever met DEAD CELEBRITY, but we feel HIS OR HER loss deeply. We fondly recall the MOVIE/SONG/TV SHOW that made HIM OR HER famous TEN/TWENTY/THIRTY years ago. And even though the public at large has long ago lost interest in any new projects for DEAD CELEBRITY, we still feel as though the untimely passing directly affects us.

Why, you might ask, did we wait until after DEAD CELEBRITY’S death before buying any MOVIES/SONGS/TV SHOWS featuring DEAD CELEBRITY? We like to honor the dead the best way we know how: With cold, hard cash. Oh sure, we could have showered the living with love and genuine affection, but we prefer grief over the dead to celebration over the living. We prefer to prop up a corpse onto a pedestal rather than try to squeeze a living person into a safe and comfortable stereotype. Less hassle for all involved. Less chance of disappointment.

We’d like to thank all the news gathering organizations for interrupting their coverage of the people and events that actually impact our lives in order to cover the death of DEAD CELEBRITY. We don’t give a moment’s thought to what we aren’t learning as a result of uninterrupted coverage of the death of someone who probably wouldn’t have liked us if we’d ever actually met.

I, for one, am glad the lead story on tonight’s newscast and tomorrow’s front page of the morning edition will be the death of DEAD CELEBRITY instead of something else like the war, the economy, health care, or any international news. After all, DEAD CELEBRITY’S death may be sad, but those other subjects are real downers, and nobody is interested in them anyway. If anything, we should be thankful for the distraction DEAD CELEBRITY has provided us.

Forget, for a moment, what can only be described as the collective insanity of grieving over someone we did not know. When one considers the wide variety of mental illnesses we could have, irrational depression pales in comparison. That we share the same psychosis as those who cry when their favorite soap opera character is written off a series shouldn’t bother us one bit. And we should not read too much into the fact that we don’t grieve over countless non-famous people murdered on any given day, at home and abroad. If they never attained fame, they aren’t worthy of our attention, let alone our tears.

Please, good people, as you go about your days, do not make jokes about DEAD CELEBRITY which you would have made when HE OR SHE was still alive. While it does imply a double standard, it is common knowledge that the greatest sign of respect we can give someone is a double standard. We must show respect towards the dead which we would never show to the living – it makes us better people. And DEAD CELEBRITY would want us all to be better people.

When we look back at the life of DEAD CELEBRITY, let us not think about any of the negative aspects of HIS OR HER life. Let us wash them away, leaving behind only the positive part of the part of HIS OR HER life that HE OR SHE chose to make public. And let us assume that DEAD CELEBRITY’S public persona wasn’t just a media ploy or an attempt to curry a larger fan base. Let us assume that, despite human nature, when a camera or microphone was shoved into the face of DEAD CELEBRITY, that DEAD CELEBRITY was true to character, and not phony in any way. Let us assume that, in spite of logic and reason, we knew – deep down, we knew – DEAD CELEBRITY’S soul.

And now that soul is resting in peace. And we must say goodbye to DEAD CELEBRITY, and we must be quick about it because the rule of three tells us we have two more famous people waiting in the wings to croak and receive their posthumous recognition. As I scan the Good Book looking for an appropriate passage to help guide DEAD CELEBRITY into the next life, I find that the traditional Psalm 23 does not suffice. No, for this occasion, I think Exodus 20:2-7 is more appropriate. Sadly, I’ve just received the signal which says we’ve run out of time here today.

Thank you all so much for coming. I know that, to HIS OR HER family, the kindness of strangers will almost make up for the loss of DEAD CELEBRITY. Now, please exit the building quickly – but reverently.

Two funny Non Sequitur comics...

2009-09-11T22:43:00.001-07:00

Two funny Ziggy comics...

2009-09-09T11:12:00.001-07:00

I know... I was shocked, too!

DO NOT USE CAFE PRESS

2009-08-03T13:27:00.001-07:00

I'm officially done with CafePress. Don't use them. Tell your friends not to use them. Tell your enemies not to use them. If CafePress is your enemy, then you are my friend.

I followed the website's directions to the letter, formating my document to 7.25 x 9.25. I saved the finished product as a PDF (also per the instructions) which the website couldn't read. Their help center asked for the original Word documents, but Cafe Press has yet to buy the latest Office suite (which is more than 2 years old). Saving it as the older version of Word so they could read it and save it properly, the PDF they sent to me was without any of the formating, font selection, picture placement, etc.

Excuse me while I go waste more hours of my life formating the book to an entirely different page size so I can try the same process with another online publishing website.

DO NOT USE CAFE PRESS

A request for fans of MJ...

2009-07-07T19:51:00.000-07:00

So, to all the Michael Jackson fans out there, how about you give generously to the LAPD and related organizations who, already operating at a loss, spent a ton of money working out the logistics of the memorial extravaganza and are now begging for donations. Seriously, I know you all have money... the sales of Jackson's music have shot through the roof since his death (of course, silly me, I already own music by artists I like and wouldn't wait until after an artist dies to hop onto a bandwagon). Why not give money to the people who enabled this nation's biggest piece of collective insanity since the OJ Simpson trial (which, ironically, was also brought to you courtesy of the LAPD)?

For fans of vintage LA radio... KMET reunites

2009-06-30T18:07:00.000-07:00

Two Los Angeles radio stations will be paying tribute to one of the fallen greats. From the late '60s to the mid '80s, KMET 94.7 was THE FM radio station on Southern California. Over the 4th of July weekend, KLOS 95.5 will be reuniting many of the on-air staff. Then on Friday July 10th, new station 100.3 "The Sound" will host a "Finally a Friday" featuring more voices from the past, including the return of Dr. Demento to Los Angeles. Both stations stream online. Wherever you are around the world, I strongly encourage you to take some time to listen to what both stations have to offer, even if it is just background music during your 4th of July BBQ. The "Mighty Met" was a special radio station with a vibe and an attitude that has never been duplicated.

Share and enjoy. It will be a little bit of heaven.

Michael Jackson: A more fitting farewell

2009-06-25T18:56:00.000-07:00

I admit it. I am a child of the '80s. I recall the "event" that was the premiere of the Thriller music video. I recall the red leather "Beat It" jacket. I recall Michael Jackson on fire. But none of these things were life-altering events for me. Setting aside all (and there is an impressive list) of the whacked out aspects of Michael Jackson's life, his career in pop music has been over for some time. When is the last time any radio station played a Michael Jackson song, other than the lite-FM stations who play a few Jackson 5 classics during their kitschy "disco-retro" nights? His music doesn't fit any modern radio station's format, not even easy-listening. His death will result in some posthumous airplay on a few oldies stations, and maybe a remix or two on some hip-hop stations, but even that will be gone again in a few weeks.

I can think of two things Michael Jackson did in terms of reshaping the music scene:

His videos helped catapult MTV into the mainstream
His success led directly to the pop culture phenomena which resulted in boy bands and Britney Spears

For these two things, Jackson should not be celebrated but condemned. His style lacked substance, replacing it with a basic, danceable backbeat. He set the course of lyrical and instrument-based music back by at least a decade, championing the cause of a successful music video being more important than a well performed single.

Should he be pitied because fame was thrust upon him at an early age? Maybe, but an early age was the only time he seemed human to outside observers.

The death of Michael Jackson should not be the lead story in any local or national newspaper or news broadcast. In print, it should be in the entertainment section, just before the comics. On TV, it should follow the words "And finally tonight" as a 30 second tag to the newscast, with a simple card with his name and a picture as a few seconds of one of his songs plays under the closing credits.

Michael Jackson's death matters... to his family and his friends. It is not a devastating blow to the music industry. It does not impact society on any level. The very definition of pop culture is that it pops into and out of fashion rapidly. Michael Jackson popped out of fashion a long time ago. Had he died in the 1980s, his death might have held a small degree of social relevance. But pop music is of the moment, and Jackson's moment has passed.

I am neither happy nor saddened by his death, but I am shocked and somewhat appalled by those who have chosen to place great import on his passing. At day's end, Michael Jackson will be remembered, not for his music, but for the allegations and rumors that surrounded his later years. And I specifically chose not to write about that because, at day's end, allegations and rumors matter even less than decades old pop music.

I know a lot of people have written, tweated, and blogged that Michael Jackson should "rest in peace." I won't do that, not because of any deeply held convictions, but because it doesn't seem appropriate to the man he was (or seemed to be). So, regarding Michael, I can only quote the man himself: sham on.

The Farrah Fawcett obit you'll only read here...

2009-06-25T14:18:00.000-07:00

Beloved masturbatory aid Farrah Fawcett lost her battle with cancer. At least 70% of her body was 62-years-old, but the parts of her that people will remember were roughly half that age.

Perhaps her most famous feature film role was in "Cannonball Run," where she played the girl Jack Elam drugged, kidnapped, and had his way with (in a comedic way, of course) in the back of an ambulance driven by Burt Reynolds and Dom DeLuise.

She was married to the six-million dollar man for a while there, which many people thought was "really cool."

Perhaps Steve Martin best summed up her life: "She is so conceited. She has never called me once. And after the hours I've spent holding up her poster with one hand."

R.I.P., Farrah. I'd say "we hardly knew ye," but, truth be told, we knew an awful lot.

Last night's nightmare...

2009-06-02T18:48:00.000-07:00

It begins with an unruly six-year-old in some sort of theater. I know this was not actually the beginning of the dream, but it is the first thing I can remember taking place. Her teacher handed her off to me (but not to her mother, who was also there… I found this odd). The six-year-old was cussing like a drunken sailor. I tried every passive approach I knew to get her to stop, but as I looked past her at her mother, her mother motioned for me to slap the child across the face. I could not, so I left her and wandered outside the theater, into the dark of night.

Outside the theater… there’s no easy way to say this… I divided into two identical people. I (we) had to get to a specific school, but not my own. For a while, I saw things from the perspective of both of me, simultaneously. But eventually I only saw things through my 1.1 good eyes, and I somehow distracted the other me, allowing me to be the first person to head towards the school.

I walked through what felt like a neighborhood in the city of Clairemont, CA (near where I used to live) where I used to ride my bike as a kid. I eventually stumbled onto a school, and it seemed to be having some sort of open house. I wandered into the preschool classrooms to see what art projects they were showcasing. It turned out they had taken several Beanie Babies and… well… castrated them. I remember telling one of the teachers that I had done a similar art project when I was a kid (even though I hadn’t).

My cell phone rang and the other me was on the other end of the line. He informed me that I was at the wrong school. Furious, I ran out of the classroom towards the parking lot located at the base of a steep hill. I passed several men and women in military uniform. In the parking lot, I found my car.

I peeled out of the lot and was racing down the dark road, feeling the wind whipping into my face. I reached my hand in front of me and discovered my windshield was gone. Then I looked down at where the steering wheel used to be, but found the handlebars of a bicycle in its place. When I looked up from the handlebars, I was no longer in my car but on a bike, and I no longer had headlights to help me see the road in front of me.

I crashed. I fell down hard, and I felt the pain of the fall. When I stood up, several handheld electronic gadgets fell from my pockets. None of them belonged to me. One of them was a sort of Blackberry with a flip top, which was vibrating. When I opened it up, an electronic voice told me it was mad that I didn’t answer earlier, and that it was going to get me.

Somewhere along the way (I think when I was driving in my car), I realized it was a dream. But the nightmarish aspect of it was that I couldn’t wake up from it. I found myself standing in near-total darkness, trembling, and trying to find some way to destroy the Blackberry with the creepy electronic voice.

Bill Maher's Commencement Address to the Class of 2009

2009-05-20T19:40:00.000-07:00

Now, maybe I'm just upset because I've never given a commencement speech. Even the girls' school I founded in South Africa for disadvantaged pole dancers hasn't asked me. And I think I know why. It's because I can't be trusted to bullshit. I firmly believe if college students wanted to hear more drivel they're never going to use again, they could go to class.

So, I would tell the class of 2009 exactly what they really have to look forward to: working at Starbucks. I'm joking of course. Starbucks isn't hiring.

But, here's the speech I would give. [he puts on mortar board] Graduates, faculty, alumni and guests, I am truly honored to speak at your university. Mostly because it's a great place to score cheap weed.

Now, I've been asked by your dean to keep it brief, and by your feminist studies club to keep it humorless. So, Class of 2009, as you go out in the world, here is my message for you: Give up.

Seriously, you're about to enter the worst job market since Adam and Eve hired the very first employee. A Mexican to tend their garden. On top of that, you went through the American educational system. You wrote "Hi, Mom" on your cap and misspelled "Hi."

And if all that wasn't enough, you are the first generation to inherit an environment that's probably already toast. But, hey, maybe you can make a few bucks smearing sunscreen on old people.

Just remember there's more to life than work. Maybe now's the time to appreciate the little things: a flower, a sunset, a shopping cart full of cans.

And, so I say to you as you embark on your adult life, take a moment to look back and honor your parents. Because they're the ones who paid for your education. They're the ones who stood by you the whole time. And they're the ones who you'll be moving back in with in the fall.

So, look at them. Look at your parents right now. Or, more likely, your dad and his new wife, who is your age. And your mom and her new boyfriend, who she met on MySpace.

And after the ceremony, I want you to take them aside and say something very important to them: "This is your fault!! Who do you think it was who tanked the economy and spent all the money and melted the planet and let the schools rot?!!"

Yes, it was us. But, at least, I hope we taught you that, in life, there really is no such thing as failure. Because, if there were, we wouldn't be seeing Dick Cheney on TV everyday.

In closing, remember that, above all, that no matter where life takes you, you will always have something deep inside you of great value: plasma!

Today's Shoe

2009-05-14T10:51:00.001-07:00

You would think it is located next door to the Hot Wheels shop...

2009-04-17T17:00:00.001-07:00

There is a new car shop near my mom's house in Costa Mesa that specializes in fixing up cars to resemble the design styles of Matchbox cars... freakin' awesome!

A priest, a rabbi, and a minister walk into a bar...

2009-04-15T00:00:00.000-07:00

From Crackle: A Priest, A Rabbi, and A Minister Preview

Phil McGraw may just be the devil

2009-03-17T21:56:00.000-07:00

"We've been livin' really fast... We've kind of been livin' in the consumptive chic. Livin' large, the big house, the big cars, and bein' in the laser lane. And one of the things that I've heard from so many of my viewers saying that now that we can't take some of these vacations, we can't buy those X Box '60s, that they're actually bein' forced to have some time with their kids, be out in the yard, throwin' things around, goin' and havin' a picnic instead of goin' to Disneyland or somethin'. So maybe, just maybe, it's causing us to slow down and focus on what really family is all about again."

- Phil McGraw, from "Anderson Cooper 360," March 17, 2009

Consumptive chic? Laser lane? We?

First of all, many words in the English language end with the letter G. If you cannot pronounce gerunds, you should not be allowed to speak on television.

Secondly, who the f*ck was Phil McGraw talking about?

Third, McGraw was attempting to put some sort of positive spin on the economy. Why? One of my chief problems with quacks like the former doctor is this kind of horsesh*t. Why must people feel good right now? Why must people feel good all the time? Why must there always be a silver lining? Why can't people who experience sad and depressing events be allowed to feel sad and depressed? I'm not saying they have to stay sad and depressed, but they surely shouldn't be forced to try to fool themselves into thinking things aren't sad and depressing. If we can't be down during down times, how can we be up during the up times? Boneheads like McGraw and their psychobabble have created havoc on the emotional state of this nation. People don't know what they're supposed to feel anymore.

McGraw revealed an awful lot about himself in that little soundbite. For starters, he's not talking about "we." McGraw is describing his own life and his own shortcomings. He has been "livin' large," but the enormity of the economic crisis finally got to him. In his guilt, he appeared on Cooper's show under the pretense of wanting to offer comfort to others. In reality, he wanted to bear his soul (who knew the son of a b*tch still had a soul?).

Wherever these people are who have spent the last 20 years ignoring their children to play video games, I am sure Phil McGraw's reassurance is a comfort in these trying times. For the rest of us, the reality of the situation might require a more reasoned approach.

The reality is that many of us cannot afford a picnic. Many of us cannot afford the gasoline needed to make the drive to spend time with our families. Many of us haven't taken a vacation in years. Many of us don't own an X Box.

We don't own homes, and we break our backs to make car payments on mid-size vehicles. Phil McGraw gets more quality family time, and we get the shaft. He appears on TV to make us all feel better, but, instead, he conjures images of the good life we never had... and never will.

On second thought, maybe now is not the time for reasoned approaches.

I am not a man prone to violence, but if I ever meet Phil McGraw, I plan to kick him in the balls.

Bitch Slap That Ho

2009-03-02T19:56:00.000-08:00

Yes, I know, domestic abuse is never funny. Not ever. Not even when seemingly talented, independent, and financially well off women stick beside the men who allegedly smack them around. Then it becomes tragic. But it is often said that from tragedy comes comedy. I humbly present the latest in my series of comedy sketches which are funny, but too dark to be produced:

FADE IN on LOSER, a hapless goober who looks and sounds totally defeated. He’s sitting home – alone – and not at all happy with his lot in life

LOSER (talking to himself)

(sighs) Another Saturday night alone. What’s wrong with me? I date a girl, but she never sticks around. (looks at camera) Who can a guy like me turn to for advice on women?

From off camera, you hear two voices say in unison

Maybe we can help!

Extremely up tempo music begins to blast – very up tempo – like funky ‘70s gameshow music, CHRIS BROWN and BOBBY BROWN enter the scene from opposite directions, each placing a hand on the shoulder of our hapless Loser.

LOSER

Wow! Bobby Brown! And Chris Brown, too!

CHRIS

That’s right (to camera). Are you in the same boat as this pathetic loser here?

LOSER (turning to CHRIS)

Hey!

BOBBY (to LOSER)

Shut up while my new protégé is talkin’. (to CHRIS) Say it loud and proud, my brother.

CHRIS

Thanks, Bobby. (back to camera) We’re here to talk about our can’t-miss guide to keeping the girl you love…

CHRIS and BOBBY (in unison)

“Bitch Slap That Ho!”

Both CHRIS and BOBBY reach behind their respective backs and pull out identical copies of books bearing the title, “Bitch Slap That Ho!” subtitled “The Brown Guide to Keeping That Special Someone… Even If She Comes to Her Senses and Tries to Escape”

BOBBY

That’s right. With “Bitch Slap That Ho!”, you learn everything you need to know about keeping the bitches at bay. (holds up book) We got tips in here about how to destroy a girl’s self-esteem…

CHRIS

… And how to land a perfect right hook across her glass jaw…

BOBBY

… And, most important, how to make her think she deserves it…

CHRIS

… Here’s a free hint: It helps if you know a guy who can get your woman hooked on drugs

CLOSE UP on Bobby Brown’s face as he winks into the camera… even include the cheesy, sparkly “Ting” sound effect as he winks

CUT TO the LOSER, still back on his couch

LOSER

But, guys, I don’t know if I can bring myself to hit a girl.

BOBBY

That’s loser-talk. Here… (hands LOSER his copy of the book) turn to Chapter Two, entitled, “Reasons to Bitch Slap That Ho.” Believe me, man, there’s always a reason.

CHRIS

Maybe she makes more money than you…

BOBBY

Maybe she’s got more talent…

CHRIS (working himself into a rage)

Yeah, or maybe she disses you during the Grammy rehearsals, and, you know, you just gotta show that dumbass bitch who’s the man, you know (starts throwing punches in the air), you just gotta give her one of these… and one of those, then you knock her to the ground…

BOBBY

Um… Chris?

CHRIS (ignoring BOBBY)

… Then you drag her around the house by her hair, and…

LOSER is starting to look nervous and apprehensive… clearly afraid of CHRIS

BOBBY

Chris?

CHRIS

… You kick her in the ribcage, man, and I mean hard, and then…

BOBBY

Chris!!!

CHRIS finally snaps out of it and turns to BOBBY. BOBBY looks sheepishly at LOSER then at the camera

BOBBY

I think my man Chris forgot about Chapter Eleven, “Finding Your Happy Place After You’ve Bitch Slapped That Ho.”

CHRIS

Yeah, I’m still workin’ on that last part, Bobby.

BOBBY

Hey, life is a work in progress, babe. But the advice in this book is solid.

CHRIS

Hey, no doubt about that!

BOBBY

So, check it. Go get yourself a copy of “Bitch Slap That Ho!”

CHRIS

And feel free to bitch slap your ho with it!

BOBBY (fist bumps CHRIS)

Now you’re talkin’!

Everybody smiles into the camera and we cut to a CLOSE UP of book with voiceover of NARRATOR

NARRATOR

Yes, friends, that’s “Bitch Slap That Ho: The Brown Guide to Keeping That Special Someone… Even If She Comes to Her Senses and Tries to Escape,” available in the dumpster outside stores where fine books are sold.

The State of Me...

2009-02-24T20:26:00.000-08:00

President Obama delivers great oratory. When I am being told the economy is in the toilet, it is nice that the words are being spoken eloquently. When I am told to brace for harder times ahead, it is refreshing that the words are pronounced correctly. But when President Obama tells me of the tax cuts headed my way, I note that he doesn't mention they amount to only $8 per week. I suppose I should look on the bright side: With the extra $8, I can afford to buy a six pack of Guinness to drown my financial sorrows.

The economic stimulus provides aid to homeowners. I rent. It offers tax breaks for married couples. I'm single. It gives relief to parents. I have no children. It frees up funds for student loans. I already have a useless degree. It gives aid and comfort to the banks. Despite the fact I haven't charged anything in a year, the banks are presently asking $400 more per month from me than they were a year ago.

Perhaps my favorite American president was FDR. In the midst of what was possibly the worst financial crisis in US history, his "New Deal" spelled out a plan that created an infrastructure, put Americans to work building roads, and outlined a long term strategy for success. That was 80-years-ago. Your know what we have now in this country that didn't exist 80-years-ago? Damn near everything. The whole world has changed (a few times) since the days of FDR. And yet our government's current economic strategy is to mimic what FDR did.

Four score and a few days ago, a great leader brought forth to this nation a new deal... and in all the time that has passed, nobody has come up with anything newer? I find fault with that concept. We can fit the entire Library of Congress onto an iPod with enough room left over for lesbian porn, but our collective intelligence can't conceive of a bold, innovative approach to tackling financial meltdowns?

Infrastructure exists. The roads are built. A new rail system doesn't gel with modern American culture... a culture based on cars... a culture based on cars because of the road system built under FDR. How is that for irony? FDR's plan worked because he saw what the nation needed and went to work fulfilling those national needs. Cut to the present day, and we've skipped that step. We finance banks... why? We bail out failed industries... why? We've skipped over the answers to those questions, because there are no answers to those questions that wouldn't lead to a revolution. We skipped over the part where the government forget to figure out what Americans need.

That is the state we're in. The current plan is a pale shadow of what was once a brilliant and insightful plan. And the former plan casts a long shadow over a crippled economy and a mentally impaired government that couldn't solve the riddle of who is buried in Grant's tomb.

To those of you who bought homes you couldn't afford to own, congratulations. Help is on the way. To those of you who got married for the tax incentives, congratulations. Help is on the way. To those of you who had children you couldn't afford to feed, congratulations. Help is on the way. To those of you about to pursue a useless college degree, congratulations. Help is on the way. To those of you who own banks and other lending institutions, congratulations. Help is on the way.

The Republican Party can bite me. The Democratic Party can get bent. Both parties are as useless as my college degree.

And what state are you in?

Random thought

2009-02-13T13:55:00.000-08:00

If a person has claimed to have been a thing for as long as you have known that person, and the foundation of your friendship with that person is based in part (or limited because of) that thing, then shouldn't that person always be that thing? And to not be that thing any longer, but not expect the friendship to change, would seem somewhat unrealistic, would it not?

Dateline: To Catch a War Criminal

2009-02-11T10:22:00.000-08:00

The setup for this sketch idea (an idea no program currently on-air would ever dream of producing) is that the chunkheads who produced "Dateline: To Catch a Predator" recently employed similar tactics to confront Leopold Munyakazi and accuse him of genocide in Rwanda. Though the program hasn't aired yet, I think it would go a little something like this:

INTERIOR nondescript kitchen

Enter MUNYAKAZI, carrying flowers and a six pack of Corona

MUNYAKAZI places items on kitchen counter and looks around expectantly

Cut to opening pocket door at other side of kitchen

Enter CHRIS HANSON

HANSON:

Just what were you planning to do with the small, young, African nation?

MUNYAKAZI:

I don't know what you're talking about.

HANSON:

You were going to rape, pillage, and plunder, weren't you?

MUNYAKAZI:

Uh, no. I was just going to talk to Rwanda, that's all.

HANSON:

And who is the beer for?

MUNYAKAZI:

Um... it is for me... for later. It's a hot day, and I didn't want to leave it in the car.

HANSON:

Are you trying to tell me you weren't planning to get Rwanda drunk, then have your way with her?

MUNYAKAZI:

Hell no, man. This is all just a big misunderstanding.

HANSON:

Wait a minute... we've met before, haven't we?

MUNYAKAZI:

I don't know... no... I don't know what you're talking about.

HANSON (voiceover):

It turned out, we had met before... at a sting...

Cut to interior of a different kitchen. MUNYAKAZI and HANSON are there.

MUNYAKAZI:

Come on, man. You saw the way she looked! Angola was askin' for it!

Cut back to the nondescript kitchen. HANSON and MUNYAKAZI are now seated on barstools. MUNYAKAZI is nursing one of the beers he brought, the other bottles lay empty beside him.

HANSON:

Seriously, dude, what were you thinking?

MUNYAKAZI:

I...

HANSON:

What was going through your head?

MUNYAKAZI:

I... I was... it was just something to do, you know. A story to tell.

HANSON:

Rwanda was defenseless.

MUNYAKAZI (tears begin to form):

I know. That was part of the turn on.

HANSON:

You're a sick man. You know that, don't you?

MUNYAKAZI (a barely audible whisper):

Yes... I need help.

HANSON:

What would you say to others like you, who are contemplating doing what you've done?

MUNYAKAZI:

Don't... that they shouldn't do it... it ain't worth it.

HANSON (voiceover):

MUNYAKAZI is, of course, innocent until proven guilty. Coming up after the break...

Cut to third nondescript kitchen. CHRIS HANSON is again in the kitchen, but this time GEORGE BUSH is with him.

HANSON:

Just what were you thinking when you targeted Iraq?

BUSH:

I...

HANSON:

You completely overpowered Iraq. It never stood a chance.

BUSH:

I... I was... it was just something to do, you know. A story to tell. Besides, Iraq was mean to my dad.

###

Spa Talk: Cell phone edition

2009-02-08T21:31:00.000-08:00

Sometimes, when you are sitting in a jacuzzi with other people, they engage in a personal conversation, and you have to pretend you can't hear it. But there is a worse scenario, and that is when you are sitting in a jacuzzi and someone is having a very personal conversation on his or her cell phone. You are three feet away, they are shouting into the phone (because they have AT&T), and you have to ignore the whole thing.

Tonight, such an event took place, and I learned all about a 19-year-old girl. A few things about 19-year-old girls in general:

The word "like" is used in lieu of silence.
Something is never just something, it is always "totally" something.
Every sentence ends with the words, "and stuff."

Because of these lexicographic idiosyncrasies, I find it difficult to take 19-year-old girls seriously. Imagine Albert Einstein as a 19-year-old girl ("E like totally equals like M like C like squared and stuff").

This 19-year-old girl had two cell phone conversations in front of me, first talking on the phone to someone named Heather. She and Heather like totally related and stuff (once you fall into the speech pattern, it is like so totally hard to get out of and stuff). And there was a good reason they related so well: They were related. Heather was the girl's mother. And Heather so totally "got" her daughter. They both had tumultuous teenage years, doing drugs, drinking copious amounts of alcohol, and having wicked mad amounts of sex. This girl and Heather had a lot in common. So much so that the girl couldn't wait to hang up the phone so she could call her mother and tell her all about it.

This confused me for a few moments. Wait for it... let it happen... yes. You got it. The 19-year-old girl was adopted. Heather was the biological mother, and the two were having their second conversation ever while I was sitting in a jacuzzi trying to relax. But then the 19-year-old girl decided to call her mother and share the totally awesome news that the biological mother was totally cool. Because there is nothing a mother (I won't call her an "adoptive mother" or any such nonsense... you raise a child, you are that child's mother) wants to hear more than being told you are inferior to a drugged up, liquored up whore.

Not only did the 19-year-old girl have the lack of tact to have two very personal and private conversations in front of a total stranger in a jacuzzi, but in one of those conversations, the 19-year-old girl couldn't comprehend why her mother was having a hysterical crying jag. After all, the girl was calling to tell her mother the good news that she had finally found someone she could talk to and share things with. The girl could not understand why her mother couldn't just be happy for her.

Suffice it to say, the jacuzzi was not very relaxing tonight.

The cheese more people choose...

2009-02-06T22:10:00.000-08:00

I'm watching the George Carlin/Mark Twain special on PBS. Jon Stewart just said "cheese-tits" several times during his monologue, and PBS censored all but one of the utterances (the first). Why is the word appropriate once, but not two or three times? Is one "cheese-tits," by itself, not inflammatory, but multiple "cheese-tits" completely unacceptable?

I really don't care about the answer, I'm just happy I live in a nation where I can publicly exclaim "cheese-tits!"

Picking on Podcasts

2009-02-06T10:47:00.000-08:00

It has been a while since I've generated a list of podcast picks. Here are a few that I've recently taken to:

"Attack of the Show's Daily Video Podcast" - I would like to confess that AOTS host Olivia Munn and I have been having a torrid affair. I would also like to run faster than a speeding bullet, but let's get serious. So until my favorite pie freak with a fear of popping balloons makes her way to San Diego, I have to settle for clips of her in a genuinely fun series.

"CBC Radio: Q The Podcast" and "Q TV" - Highlights from a not very good Canadian radio show that somehow manages to land really cool guests. Check out the video podcasts of Super Dave Osborne or two of The Kids In The Hall, both outstanding in spite of the lackluster host.

"Robert Llewellyn's Machine of the Week" - Kryton from "Red Dwarf" hosts brief reviews of the latest gadgets, with a focus on clean machines and green technology.

"TED Talks (Video)" - For the ultra-geek, many of the TED Talks lecture series are available in podcast form. I recommend the freak of nature that is Clifford Stoll, as well as lectures by Kary Mullis, David Carson, and John Hodgman. All of them funny and inspiring.

"The Official Scrubs Podcast" - Bill Lawrence and Zach Braff have been providing commentaries (not concurrent commentary tracks, just a set of informal sit-downs) on episodes airing on ABC. It is nice when the major players of a show take the time and trouble to host a podcast.

And now, for the sake of keeping track of things, a few podcasts I have unsubscribed from:

"MSNBC Countdown (Video)" - I'm sorry, but Keith and O'Reilly are two sides of the same coin. And just because I agree with Keith's politics is not enough reason to endure the name calling and pedantic crap seen nightly on his show.

"SModcast - Quick Stop Entertainment" - Kevin Smith is one of my favorite screenwriters, and the DVDs of his public speaking tours are all funny and entertaining. I've sat through the last six or seven of his podcasts, and he has been stoned through all of them... to the point where he becomes incoherent. It is not entertaining. It is not funny. It is sad. To paraphrase the dean from "Animal House": Fat, stoned, and stupid is no way to go through life.

"Townhall.com - Dennis Prager" - Even if his dislike of liberals/Democrats hadn't turned nasty during the recent election, the podcasts are now available only for a fee (for a while, low quality podcasts were being offered with commericials). I'm still not ready to pay for podcasts... not when there are so many good ones available free-of-charge.

And a soon-to-be fond farewell to:

"NPR: Satire from The Unger Report Podcast" - Former "Daily Show" correspondent Brian Unger has been providing regular segments to NPR for a few years, but the specific series he's been contributing to is folding, and his podcast is expected to fold with it. I wish him well, and hope his humor finds a new home elsewhere.

Links to my previous podcast reviews:

Podcast Picks
&
More Podcast Picks

Blogging Lohan

2009-01-11T12:32:00.000-08:00

Looking for comedy? Might I suggest a dramatic reading of Lindsay Lohen's MySpace Blog? Reading about the vacuous existence of an unintelligent starlet, I cannot help but smile. She thinks she matters, and hundreds of equally vapid people who have posted comments on her blog think she matters, too. Who will they turn to in five years? Or five months? Or five weeks?

It as all too cute for words.

Garfield

2009-01-08T21:58:00.001-08:00

90210 Episode Guide

2009-01-06T21:15:00.001-08:00

Previously on Shannen Doherty:

I don't remember. I think I've managed to block "90210" from my mind. I know Shannen didn't appear topless. I would have remembered that

Tonight on Shannen Doherty:

Forgive me, but I can't do my usual summary. The one dimensional teenage stereotypes... the teacher who doesn't seem to teach any particular subject... prolonged exposure to this series should come with a warning from the Surgeon General.

Shannen sat in a doctor's office, receiving bad news. Adriana, a recently reformed teenage drug addict, asked Jennie Garth's breasts to contact Shannen, hoping she might accompany her to a rehab reunion. When Jennie Garth's breasts visited Shannen, Shannen was standoffish, clearly still troubled be the as-yet-unnamed problem her doctor told her about. Shannen showed Jennie Garth's breasts the door.

Eventually, after some off-camera soul searching, Shannen met up with Adriana and Jennie Garth's breasts at the rehab shin-dig (lame party... alcohol was not served). As the party was winding down, Shannen started to confide in Jennie Garth's breasts, but Adriana and her sponsor interrupted with bad news about an ex-boyfriend who relapsed. Upon learning that he had HIV, Adriana went for testing, with Shannen and Jennie Garth's breasts joining her for immoral support. Adriana turned out clean, but pregnant. For some reason, Shannen freaked out and bailed.

When Jennie Garth's breasts went to Shannen's house to confront Shannen, Shannen revealed that she was told she could not have kids. Shannen then revealed she wanted to adopt a baby.

Tune in next week when you'll hear Shannen say:
"OK, but only if you provide the latex."

For those who actually give a rat's ass about the non-Shannen characters... a brief recap:

The alleged half-brother of two feuding teenage bimbi (plural of bimbo) seemed to be plotting to get money from the adult members of the cast (that is, the adult members of the cast playing adults, as opposed to the adults playing teenagers). One teenage bimbo was suspicious, as was her mom. Meanwhile her brother, an adopted African American, lied to his non African American girlfriend so he could hang out with an African American girl and her equally African American friends and family. But it turned out the girl was a lesbian (with an exceptionally cute girlfriend, I might add). The African American members of the cast sang "Amazing Grace." The alleged half-brother agreed to a blood test to remove the word "alleged" from the character description. But, the next day, he vanished without a trace, absconding with money taken from the marginally less likable adult members of the cast.

Today's Non Sequitur

2008-12-19T10:22:00.000-08:00

Conventions, redux

2008-11-24T15:57:00.000-08:00

I am sitting in the Hooters in Long Beach. My waitress, Jessica, looks exactly like a Hooters waitress should. I am drinking Guinness. I was carded when I ordered my beer. A sportsradio talk show is simulcasting from this location.

Ah, conventions.

Though technically the second day, this is actually the first day featuring sessions wherein pedagogical experts school each other on the latest teaching tips and trends. I attended four sessions today, and walked out on three of them. The lone worthwhile session should have been an all day workshop.

How do adults learn new things? Necessity. Until a teacher absolutely needs to change the way he or she does his or her job, you would be hard pressed to find a more hostile audience.

I like to think I am still open to new ideas. To me, a big part of what makes a successful workshop is presentation. Don’t talk to me like I am an idiot, and I will listen to almost anything you have to say. I want someone sharp, focused, and aware. In other words, don’t stand at the front of a room and read from your PowerPoint, and don’t feel the need to engage your audience with juvenile activities and games. Just say what needs to be said, and move on.

I have decided that, if I am still in this business next year, I need to give a presentation at our conference. The subject:

How to give presentations.

Step 1: Focus your topic. Narrow your session to people with novice, intermediate, or advanced knowledge of your topic. Most try to keep the material broad just to fill the room. A full room does not impress me, and in many cases hinders the learning process.

Step 2: Focus your presentation. Explain something once, and then move on. State at the top that you welcome questions or discussions on points the audience might want clarified. That way, thinking adults who do not require the same idea presented in six different ways don’t feel talked down to. Those a little slow on the uptake merely need to raise a hand.

Step 3: Focus yourself. I don’t need a whimsical anecdote. I don’t want a boundary breaking activity. I have no interest in relating to you as a person. If I showed up to your presentation, it is because I want to learn something. If I leave your presentation and walk two blocks to Hooters for Guinness, you did something wrong.

Step 4: Adapt. If you cannot read the room, you are destined to fail. Your audience will never, repeat never, see things exactly the way you do. It is up to you to state your premise, and then convince them why you are in the right. It is rhetoric. It is persuasive. It is the science of understanding people. It is really difficult to do well. I recommend practicing your presentation on hobos. Or people with Alzheimer’s. In other words, bounce ideas off of someone… anyone.

Step 5: Face reality. You should know that no matter how smart you are, and no matter how effectively you can communicate, the vast majority of your audience would rather be anywhere else than seated in a room with you. I say this not to burst anybody’s ego, but to stick a burr under the saddle, so to speak. Respect the audience, or at least respect the time they set aside to listen to you. Give the room anything less than the respect they deserve, and… well… have I mentioned Hooters and Guinness?

Bill Maher's last "New Rule" of the season...

2008-11-19T07:46:00.000-08:00

We're Americans. We built the Golden Gate Bridge and Hoover Dam and Joan Rivers. We're the only country that can look at a sandwich made of ice cream and chocolate cookies covered in fudge and think, "Ah, you think we could fry that?"

And you know what? YES, WE CAN!

They may have 72 virgins, but we have 31 Flavors.

You know what our favorite burger topping is? Another burger!

We invented rock 'n' roll, jazz, funk, R&B, and hip-hop. Without our music, your iPods would be filled with ABBA, Menudo and Men At Work. And you wouldn't have iPods.

Not only did we create the Internet, we're the ones who filled it up with porn.

Jefferson lived here. And Miles Davis and Mark Twain and Frank Lloyd Wright and a lot of other people Sarah Palin never heard of.

In America, strippers and Disney stars have an equal right to be named "Hannah Montana."

And I was freely able to make a movie saying there's no afterlife, and you could watch it while eating crap that'll kill you. But, that's okay, because our corn-fed high school sophomores are bigger than your soldiers, and they're better armed.

I ask you, in what other nation would they tax young people to make sure old people can afford erections?

What you call "football," we call "soccer." And what you call "war crimes," we call "football."

So, let me just say it again: we elected a black guy, and it was because he was the best candidate. Not because it was some cheap gimmick. And we should know, because we are also the country that invented cheap gimmicks.

Yes, America is like Jessica Simpson. Sometimes it's so stupid it embarrasses you, but, on the other hand, how about them titties?!

90210 Episode Guide

2008-11-18T21:09:00.001-08:00

Previously on Shannen Doherty:

I applauded Shannen's wise decision to limit her exposure on "90210" to a few early episodes. Or I would have, if the broad would ever take my calls. But, no, she signed up for more, so I have to watch televised excrement instead of "House."

Tonight on Shannen Doherty:

A guy who makes a Marine uniform look like a pair of pajamas (sorry, I just attended the USMC graduation at MCRD, and if one of the new Marines looked that shabby, he'd get his ass kicked) shows up claiming to be the long, lost son of Rob Estes, a.k.a. Mr. Wilson. A bunch of women a few years younger than me who are pretending to be high schoolers act upset.

Shannen Doherty's name appears in the credits. One cannot help but wonder if she'll appear on screen for more than five seconds.

I guess the wannabe teenage girls lusted after the same generic teenage boy, and Mr. Wilson's daughter, Annie, won. Jennie Garth's breasts serve as the school's counselor, and try to smooth the ruffled feathers. Jennie Garth's breasts are not too bright. Ah, the actresses posing as teenagers are supposed to be sophomores. I guess that makes me a high school senior.

The adopted son of Mr. Wilson is jealous of the long lost son of Mr. Wilson. And Annie acts like a bitch, which makes her generic teenage boyfriend angry. But Annie is cute, so I'll wager heavily that generic teenage boyfriend forgives her. Annie's rival tries to get in with the out crowd by begging a guy for reservations at a trendy restaurant. Can you stand the tension?

Shannen was in a play, and Jennie Garth's breasts watched. Shannen looked good, of course. The posters in the lobby were for MacBeth... I honestly think Lady MacBeth is perfect casting for Shannen, and I would pay to see it. Meanwhile, Mrs. Bluth dispensed supposedly humorous wisdom to Mrs. Wilson.

Once again, lacrosse is a big deal in Southern California? Even though Dixon (the adopted son) has a girlfriend, he flirts with... well... no easy way to say this... the only other African-American in the cast, in this case a cheerleader. It reminded me of whenever a black actress guest starred on "The Love Boat." In that equally unprogressive series, she never hooked up with Gopher or Doc. "The Love Boat" and "90210" are both Spelling shows, if memory serves. End of social commentary.

"Let's just say you're going to need two hairdos for that outfit." A reference to Annie's ultra-short skirt... to give credit where credit is due, that was a funny line.

It is the day of the big lacrosse game, and may I just say the school mascot is the most well developed character in the entire series? Meanwhile, Shannen is wearing a low-cut blue top. Shannen wonders why Jennie Garth's breasts bother being friends. The stilted dialogue almost gives me hope that this will be Shannen's last appearance on the show.

The camel toe returns! 'Nuf said. And it turns out the mascot is Annie. Jennie Garth's breasts get an emergency phone call and leave the big game. Dixon can't get his head in the game, and is sent to the locker room by his coach/dad/principal. Oh, and one of the dark haired girls pukes for no reason, which in the handbook of TV cliches means she is pregnant.

Dixon confesses his angst to his dad. They shared a very Brady moment. After Dixon returned to the field and won the game, his girlfriend grew jealous when he got a hug from a certain cheerleader. Dixon bonds with his long lost brother.

Shannen, it turns out, fell off the stage because she dared utter the name of The Scottish Play, and Jennie Garth's breasts are her emergency contact. Just as they seemed to be on the verge of a moment the Prop 8 supporters would have despised, Shannen revealed she slept with the teacher from earlier episodes. Rejected, Jennie Garth's breasts walk away from Shannen.

The long lost son/brother made a sinister sounding phone call. It would seem he may be up to no good.

Tune in next week when you'll hear Shannen say:

"Sucker... I hardly know her!"

90210 Episode Guide

2008-09-30T21:19:00.000-07:00

Previously on Shannen Doherty:

Rich, pretty people do rich, pretty things in a rich, pretty city. Meanwhile, I spilled root beer on my futon. Stain Guard, my ass.

Tonight on Shannen Doherty:

Barring a last minute contract negotiation, Shannen is wrapping up her days in the Hills of Beverly. And it is intervention time in the principal's office. Shannen and company confront Adrianna, the girl too drugged up to perform in the school musical, but the girl's mother ain't havin' it.

The big haired girl has a knit sweater wrapped around her shoulders. Apparently she thinks she is playing the 1980s stereotype of a gay tennis coach.

Annie's mom secures a job photographing a fashion show. Annie's brother has a girlfriend. Annie breaks up with the guy she thinks had sex with another woman, but since he didn't have sex with another woman, he has no idea why she's so upset. He probably assumes it is nature's special time. Men can be such pigs.

Shannen second guesses her decisions. Dylan calls her. Jennie Garth's breasts talk to the father of her baby. What are the odds they've booked Sideshow Luke Perry? I'll bet they can talk about the character with such frequency that it'll be like he rejoined the cast, but they won't have to pay him a dime.

Adrianna is partnered up with Annie and Dixon on an after-school assignment writing about the fashion show. Dixon's friend wants a crack at Annie. At the test shoot for the fashion show, Annie's friend Silver is confronted by an agent and told she could be a model. Girls, how many times do you hear that one?

The big haired girl manages to sabotage dinner between her father and his mistress. I wonder if the big haired girl can spell "sabotage?" Nevertheless, she plots to reunite her feuding parents. Her mom plots to have sex with any man she can find.

At the fashion show, Annie is offered a job acting in a small film. She secures a pity audition for Adrianna.

Shannen and Jennie Garth's breasts fight over why Dylan called Shannen but not the mother of his child. Jennie Garth's breasts acted like a petty little teenager. Eventually, they hug and make up. Shannen deletes Dylan's number from her cell phone. Shannen is a stand up girl.

The whole high school somehow gets tickets to the fashion show. Shannen is there... with the guy who is attracted to Jennie Garth's breasts.

Adrianna reveals all to Annie. Annie gets angry. Adrianna gets angry because Annie gets angry. I get angry because Shannen isn't getting enough face time.

Shannen's skirt is short. She says she is going out of town "for a while." She leaves the fashion show with the guy who used to be attracted to Jennie Garth's breasts, but now seems interested in Shannen.

A fight ensues at the fashion show. Dixon defends Silver's honor by punching the cradle robbing agent in the face.

The big haired girl breaks up with her generic boyfriend, the same generic boyfriend she has broken up with in every episode of the season.

Jennie Garth's breasts leave in search of Dylan. Silver agrees to house sit. A teenage girl left alone in a house... what could possibly happen? If I am very lucky, Shannen Doherty's run of episodes is over, and I will never find out.

90210 Episode Guide

2008-09-23T21:08:00.000-07:00

Previously on Shannen Doherty:

Shannen agreed to direct a school play. Of course, California's public school system requires an extensive background check, a blood sample, and fingerprinting before an adult is allowed to work on a school campus. Due to the backlog, it'll probably be six months to two years before she's allowed back inside West Beverly Hills High School.

Tonight on Shannen Doherty:

Shannen appears to have worked the system and found her way on campus (probably slept with somebody who isn't me). The school play opens Friday night, and Annie has rehearsed as an understudy for a drug addicted student. The play, called the "Spring Awakening," is all about teenagers discovering sex. The principal is less than amused, especially when he sees his daughter Annie backstage kissing a guy.

The big haired girl (wearing a dress, so no you-know-what) is tired of her mom brooding. I'm tired of the big haired girl.

Shannen tries to "relate" to the drug addicted girl. You have to search pretty hard to find someone who can overact more than anyone in the original cast of this series. They found it in the drug addicted girl.

The big haired girl, Silver, and Annie exchange in a little "girl talk" (quotes mine -- the episode was written by a male writer who doesn't really understand the female voice, let alone a teenage girl's voice). Annie emphatically insists she has not had sex with... I don't know... one of the generic guys in the cast. She insists that isn't what the relationship is all about. But then the guy informs Annie he has booked a hotel room for the two of them after the play.

Shannen and Jennie Garth's breasts are worried about the drug addicted girl. They discuss the situation with the teacher who has a thing for Jennie Garth's breasts. If something was resolved, I don't know what it was. I was distracted. The teacher said, "The tricky part of teaching is being friendly without being a friend." In my day job as a teacher, ain't nothin' in my contract about being friendly.

Annie's TV dad tries to have a TV talk with his TV daughter about TV sex. This is why conservatives don't want sex taught in schools... because they think these sorts of superficial and awkward conversations constitute a genuine discussion about the act of human procreation.

In a shocking turn of events, the drug addicted girl is found to be on drugs, and it is up to Annie the understudy to rescue the play. Shannen Doherty is wearing a strapless dress. God bless America.

Serving as the show's stage manager, Silver engages in a little headset-banter (the theater and television equivalent of phone-sex) with light board operator Dixon (I miss headset-banter). This is supposed to be juxtaposed with the big haired girl lamenting what now appears to be her parents' pending divorce. I don't get it. At the final curtain call, Shannen and Annie hug. No comment.

Annie wants her brother Dixon to give his condom to her so she and her generic boyfriend can enjoy a little freaky, teenage, hotel sex. She bumps into another generic guy in the hall and drops the condom. He tries to talk Annie out of having sex.

The Roosevelt, best known to non-Los Angelinos as the hotel where the idiots who waited for months to see "Star Wars: Episode I" used the bathroom, is the scene of the play's after-party. The drugged up girl shows up at the hotel room where Annie's generic boyfriend lies in waiting, and she concocts a lie about Annie kissing another guy. Dixon and Silver flirt. Annie reaches the hotel room and the drugged up girl convinces Annie that she had a little "you stole my part, I stole your man" revenge sex. But she didn't. If anybody thinks this sounds like every third episode of "Three's Company," you are not alone.

Dixon and Silver were almost ready to do the deed, but he remembered he'd given his condom to his sister. Irony. Annie decided that because her generic man didn't deflower her, the Beverly Hills scene is not for her.

I know how she feels. Well, not exactly, but... oh, you know what I mean. Quit looking at me like that. Go away now. Scat.

90210 Episode Guide

2008-09-19T19:34:00.001-07:00

Previously on Shannen Doherty:

Shannen was missing in action. One can only hope she was getting a job on a better show, like "According to Jim."

Tonight on Shannen Doherty:

The school's drama teacher had to take a leave of absence, so Lucille Bluth volunteered to take over the school's big musical pageant. The big haired girl is still unhappy about her dad having an affair. But she seems more unhappy that her mom isn't unhappy about it.

Woo-hoo! Shannen Doherty returns (yes, I actually used "Woo-hoo!" in a non-sarcastic way... shut up)! She and Jennie Garth's breasts chat in the high school lunch room. Apparently, her character is now an actress in legitimate theater.

The young Mr. Dixon Wilson gets into an accident while driving the older Mr. Wilson's car in the high school parking lot, but hopes his dad (who is also the high school principal) won't find out.

Annie agrees to date one of her interchangeable boy toys. I assume the other boy toy won't be happy about it, but since I can't tell them apart, it hardly seems important. But sure enough, Annie encounters her other boy toy, and when he finds out she has plans, he is not happy.

The big haired girl tries to reconcile with Silver, whose father also had an affair, but that dog won't hunt.

When Lucille Bluth makes a spectacle of herself during the musical rehearsal, Annie begs her dad to find someone new. Mr. Wilson asks Jennie Garth's breasts if she knows anyone. Reenter Shannen Doherty.

Nat hires Dixon to work at "The Peach Pit" so he can pay off the damage to the car he hit. Something tells me this storyline will not pay off in any meaningful way.

Silver tries to convince Annie that the interchangeable guy she's dating will always be hung up on the big haired girl. The big haired girl hears her dad scheduling what she believes to be a rendezvous with his mistress.

I'm not sure, not having been a regular viewer of the original series, but I think the guy who may or may not be attracted to the big haired girl lives in the old Walsh house. And he has a brother with severe OCD (possibly Autism). The big haired girl (and I swear I'm not making this up) with the camel toe decides to confront the mistress.

Shannen again references the mysterious father of the other former cast member (no, not Nat).

The big haired girl meets the mistress. The mistress says she loves the big haired girl's father. And the father cares enough about the mistress to allow her to move into the family's beach house. I wonder if the father knows how many homes he owns. Regardless, the news the affair was more than just a fling finally seemed to affect the big haired girl's mom.

Somebody asks somebody else out. I don't know who. I don't care who. I don't think they cared, either.

Annie was mad at one of her interchangeable boy toys for canceling a date, so she tried to make a date with the other interchangeable boy toy. But that boy toy made a date with somebody else. So she baked him cookies. Then she kissed him, and all was forgiven, though I'm not sure who needed forgiveness. I swear, this is what passes for "drama" on The CW.

After "quitting" as director of the school musical, Lucille Bluth told her granddaughter Annie, "You're in good hands with Brenda." I'd like to be.

Jennie Garth's breasts got mad at Shannen. I'm not sure why, but it turned out... finally... that "Dylan" was revealed to be the mysterious absent father.

Dixon confessed his car accident to Mr. Wilson. After the "aw, shucks" moment, life moved on.

Here's how bad tonight's show was: The preview for next week's "Gossip Girl" looked more entertaining.

Non Sequitur

2008-09-15T07:32:00.001-07:00

The humor of this strip just sort of creeps up on you.

90210 Episode Guide

2008-09-09T22:29:00.000-07:00

Previously on Shannen Doherty:

Not me. But all she has to do is ask.

Tonight on Shannen Doherty:

Not her. D*mnit!

Pressing onward, it is angst aplenty as we reenter the Hills of Beverly. It is breakfast time in the Wilson household, and Annie's skirt couldn't get any shorter unless they moved the series to subscription based cable. The big haired girl mentioned Coldplay, so clearly the show's writers read a three-year-old issue of Tiger Beat magazine.

Jennie Garth's breasts bantered with her sister Silver. Then they flirted with the wisecracking teacher. The Wilson parents plan "family night." On a Friday night when both kids would rather be spending time with friends, it seems they will have to go bowling instead. Who knew the Wilsons were Lutheran?

It is stock footage aplenty as images of every part of Southern California except Beverly Hills are used to cut in from commercial breaks. Silver prefers a homeless shelter to living with her mother. Annie is working up quite the little love triangle with two guys who look, sound, and act exactly the same. In an effort to weasel out of family night, both Wilson kids invite every resident of Beverly Hills to bowling, though they aren't quite desperate enough to invite anyone in the valley. Meanwhile, the big haired girl, once again sporting a camel toe you could crack an egg on, won't be spending the evening with her father, who is much too busy with business.

Silver is the first to butt into family night at the lanes. Jennie Garth's breasts go out on a date with the wisecracking teacher. Jennie Garth's breasts' son might be the child of a character from the first incarnation of the series, only it seems the writers are moving too fast for the casting department, so the father isn't named.

Before you can say, "lame, corny TV premise," the entire student body of West Beverly High School is bowling... except for the big haired girl, who wants to pick up dinner for her dad and bring it to him at work. Gee... I'd be shocked if she discovered her father with a woman other than her mother.

What a shock... the big haired girl discovered her father with a woman other than her mother. The big haired girl has a nervous breakdown in the parking lot of the bowling alley, and everybody she ticked off in the previous episode consoles her. As the evening winds down, it seems everybody has somewhere to go and someone to be with... except Silver.

It turns out Silver's mom is an abusive drunk. It turns out, the adopted Wilson son came from a rough family history, too. After some Emmy(TM)(R)(C) Award winning dramatic acting, it is decided Silver gets to stay with the Wilsons for a while.

It turns out the big haired girl's mom already knows about "the other woman." And the mom is alright with it. The big haired girl is not.

Jennie Garth's breasts confront her mom. Silver joins them both in a scream-filled Beverly Hills version of "family night." Silver moves out of her mother's house and into the home of Jennie Garth's breasts.

The episode concludes with a musical montage, and no trace of Shannen Doherty.

I feel so used.

Like moths to a flame

2008-09-07T12:35:00.000-07:00

Speaking in very general terms, there are two basic types of women who are drawn to me (I would have said "broad terms," but I've been making the conscious effort to avoid puns). The first type of woman that gravitates toward me is the type that is, for one reason or another, unattainable. Maybe they are married, maybe they are lesbian, or maybe (and this is purely hypothetical, of course) they are women from another country who have lived in the same apartment complex as me all summer, but haven't flirted with me until this, their last week in America.

As the years have dragged on, I've come to realize in the fullness of time that it is largely my fault that this first group of women feel compelled to be near me. You see, I am safe. For unfathomable reasons, women instinctively trust me not to try any "funny business." They can talk with me and share their feelings, and I'll sit there and take it. And though it is seldom said out loud, these women and I know that no lasting relationship will stem from our interaction. I exist merely as a way for the women to pass the time until what they're really seeking (i.e.: husband, gay lover, or... sigh... home country) comes along. It is an unhealthy symbiosis. The women use me for superficial companionship, and I use them for the same. The problem is that the superficial quickly bores me, and I often find myself craving more than the women are willing or able to offer.

The second type of woman who frequents my life is the type of woman with more baggage than the carousels at O'Hare Airport in the heart of the holiday season. It never fails. I meet a woman and we get along splendidly. Meanwhile, those around me... my friends... will try to tell me that something may be wrong with the woman in question. I don't see it until it is too late. These emotional wrecks storm into my life with the full force of a hurricane, leaving me unstable in every conceivable sense of the word. Before I know it, every excuse I had originally made for myself to explain away the woman's freakish behavior is revealed as a sham. I've tried to bend over backwards to become the sort of man the woman might want, but I fail abysmally, due mostly to the fact the woman doesn't have a clue what she wants.

As with the first type of woman, that the second type is so prevalent in my life is mostly my fault. I'm the one who tries to explain away the flaws, my rationale being that I'm hardly free of emotional or psychological issues, so why should I dismiss a woman with her own quirks? Plus, I'm a sucker for a woman who looks at me with seemingly sweet, seemingly innocent eyes. They look at me, my chest tightens a bit, and before I know what happened, they own me. It would be pathetic if it weren't so... no... I got nothin'... it is pathetic.

A friend recently suggested to me that, at their core, women are nurturers. That may be true of many women, just not the ones I've dated. In fact, I'm sure there are lots of other types of women out there. I am friends with other types of women, but the women I have dated all seem to fall under one of the above categories. It is a cycle I can't seem to break. And the craziest of relationships feature women who fall under both categories. Yes, the unattainable whack jobs crawl out of the woodwork to be with me. And I let it happen. And when it ends, as it always does, I drown my sorrows in Guinness, bury my nose in idle work, buy a few DVDs, and pass the time until the next doomed-to-fail relationship commences.

I don't know if it is to my credit or detriment, but I haven't actually engaged in such a relationship in a while. What leads me to believe it is more of a minus than a plus is because I think I've closed myself to the possibility of any relationship, even a potentially healthy one. Fear is clearly the factor here. Though I feel just about as content as I have ever felt as an individual, exposing myself to the vulnerable nature of a relationship scares the poop out of me. I don't want to be alone forever, but I'm also not overly motivated to make the first move towards a relationship with a woman. And I feel that women sense my apprehension, but mistake it for a lack of interest and seek companionship elsewhere.

All of that means that, once again, the fault lies squarely on my shoulders. Either I risk being made a fool of by a woman, I accept not having a woman in my life, or I go back to the same types of women who will only bring me more misery and heartache.

And what is behind door number four, Monty?

90210 Episode Guide

2008-09-02T22:09:00.000-07:00

Previously on Shannen Doherty:

Having alienated herself from every actor and producer in the industry, Shannen Doherty made the transition to reality television. Having alienated herself, not only from reality television, but from reality itself, Shannen Doherty attempts a recurring role on a remake of a series in which she once starred. Oh, how the mediocre have fallen. If Aaron Spelling hadn't been frozen in carbonite, he'd be spinning in his grave.

Tonight on Shannen Doherty:

Uncle Jesse's girlfriend from "Full House" is in a car with the guy from "Silk Stockings" and two kids I assume are their new TV children. It is the Wilson family, the new Walsh family, but edgier... one of kids is an adopted African-American who looks 23, the other is a busty chick from Kansas who looks 19... yet they are both in high school. As they drive past stock footage, they arrive at their new home and are greeted by Lucille Bluth from "Arrested Development." In the background, music from artists nobody will remember in six months is playing. A teenage boy is getting a blowjob in his car... I am supposed to be offended.

Cut to a wisecracking teacher who is so totally relating to wisecracking students. Cut to Jennie Garth's breasts. I think there is dialogue in the scene, but Ms. Garth's breasts are somewhat distracting. Blowjob boy, a.k.a. Ethan, seems to be juggling three girls... and I am supposed to feel sympathy for him. There is a Gilbert and Sullivan reference... it appears they are uncool because they are old.

The opening credits roll. I feel like I need a shower. Where is Shannen Doherty?

A girl who looks kind of like Shannen Doherty if you squint has a drug problem. A different girl named Silver is like Dylan without a penis... in other words, exactly like Dylan. A girl with big hair who looks kind of like Tori Spelling if you squint has the same acting problem as Tori Spelling (her dad must be producing the series). Kids in a Southern California high school are excited about lacrosse... only in the mind of a Hollywood writer.

The second commercial break comes and goes. I feel like I need two showers. Where the f*ck is Shannen Doherty?

Lucille Bluth tells it like it is. The adopted brother and sister are lying in the same bed... A Very Brady Creepy. The wisecracking teacher hangs out at the same bar as the big haired girl... A Very Statutory Creepy. An old flame of Mr. Wilson gets drunk. Lucille Bluth tells it disturbing. The girl who looks kind of like Shannen Doherty if you squint steals a purse.

The third commercial break comes and goes. I feel like I need to coat myself in boric acid and take three showers. Where the flying f*ck is Shannen Doherty?

The cute girl from Kansas is being teased by Silver, who posts online cartoons that are, if possible, less amusing than JibJab. Jennie Garth's breasts reappear and... oh... her breasts and Silver are sisters.

Ethan lies. The cute girl from Kansas is mad. Big haired girl stole a report written by the cute girl from Kansas. The cute girl from Kansas is mad. The big haired girl is sporting a substantial camel toe. The cute girl from Kansas steals the thunder from the girl who looks kind of like Shannen Doherty if you squint.

The fourth commercial break comes and goes. I feel like I need to scrape off a few layers of skin with a razor blade and shave off all of my hair... my outsides feel unclean. Where in the holy flying f*ck is Shannen Doherty?

The big haired girl with a camel toe is caught cheating, but Mr. Wilson gives her a chance to prove herself. Ethan turns out to be only mildly sleazy.

The fifth commercial break comes and goes. Forget about my outsides... they'll never be clean again. I now feel like I need to drink bleach to sanitize my insides. Where in the holy flying f*cking f*ck is Shannen Doherty?

The cute girl from Kansas, who was grounded for giving a paper to the big haired girl with a camel toe, skips out of her house to go to a party. Apparently the party is hooker-themed. People laugh at the idea teenage kids would attend church... twice. The big haired girl, no longer sporting a camel toe but now wearing what appears to be a stylish, form-fitting Hefty bag, finds out Ethan has been cheating on her... and I honestly don't know who I am supposed to feel sorry for.

As hour two of this stupidity begins, Silver drags the cute chick from Kansas to the beach. They meet up with Ethan who, after screwing around on three girls, I guess I am supposed to like. Jennie Garth's breasts have a four-year-old kid (whom, I assume, still breast feeds). Mr. Wilson has a kid he didn't know about with the mother of the big haired girl.

Lucille Bluth is a smart-mouthed lush... how out of character for her. A rival lacrosse team has trashed West Beverly High. The cute girl from Kansas is infatuated with a guy who looks like a goth Mr. Rogers. Jennie Garth's breasts flirt with the wisecracking teacher. The latest unfunny JibJab (redundant, I know) features the big haired girl, who is not amused. Ethan is slapped... it was OK that he cheated, but not OK that people know about it.

I'm too depressed to count how many commercial breaks have come and gone. Not only am I unclean, inside and out, but I now feel the need to set my apartment complex ablaze... gotta make the icky go away. Where in the holy flying mother-f*cking f*ck is Shannen Doherty?

The adopted African-American kid wants to come up with "the dopest prank" as retaliation for the trashing of the school. Lucille Bluth bonds with him... how dope is that? Goth Mr. Rogers owns a Bentley and a private jet. He wisks Annie (it was getting too time consuming to keep typing "the cute chick from Kansas") to San Francisco for dinner. Jennie Garth's breasts continue to flirt with a wisecracking teacher who utters the phrase "he's just not that into you"... clearly he is homosexual (not that there's anything wrong with that).

Cut to stock footage of San Francisco and a computer generated Golden Gate Bridge in the background to mask the appearance of a jetsetting date.

Finally... after 90 minutes of absolute crap... Shannen Doherty arrives (woo-hoo!), and so does Nat (like I care). Shannen Doherty reunites with Jennie Garth's breasts. But instead of following Shannen Doherty around with a camera, the next scene involves teenagers and a prank involving pigs. And in the following scene, Lucille Bluth gets into a car accident, which you hear about but don't actually see.

Almost immediately after Annie's date with the goth Mr. Rogers ends, Annie and Ethan bond. Birds of a feather, I suppose.

The pill-popping Shannen Doherty lookalike (not to be confused with the genuine article) bonds with the big haired girl, who is once again sporting a camel toe. Silver and Annie talk and talk and talk and... where the heck is Shannen Doherty? She's been on the show for less than a minute!

Mrs. Wilson, a.k.a. Jesse's girlfriend, discovers a matchbook from a San Francisco restaurant amongst Annie's possessions, because teenage girls who don't smoke typically snag matchbooks when out on dates with guys. The big haired girl bangs another guy to make Ethan jealous. Ethan breaks up with her, because if there's one thing a three-timing guy can't stand, it's a two-timing girl.

Shannen Doherty reappears, but only to open the door for the wisecracking teacher at the home of Jennie Garth's breasts. Shannen looks good. Really, really good.

As Ethan prepares to woo Annie, he witnesses her kissing the goth Mr. Rogers. And yes, Annie did quote the cliched line about not being in Kansas anymore.

I am curious... if I were to whack myself in the head with hammer two or three times, would I find the lives of any of these characters compelling? No wonder The CW didn't provide preview copies to critics.

Politically spent

2008-08-31T00:08:00.000-07:00

I've decided that once Election Day 2008 has come and gone, I am going to officially stop caring about politics. I find myself more angry and more depressed than I have ever been when it comes to the state of our nation. On any given day, I am filled with enough bitterness and resentment about the state of my own life, without having to deal with the disastrous state of my government. I am frustrated with the Democrats for not staying true to their word. I am frustrated with the Republicans for failing to recognize the current condition of the United States.

There is no reason the approval rating of our current commander in chief shouldn't match the percentage of people who would vote for a like-minded Republican candidate. By that I mean the Democrats should be in the lead by a ratio of nearly 4 to 1. But what we have is a close race between Obama, who cannot keep his word, and McCain, who ignores the perils of life in America.

What really frustrates me about this campaign season is how my own views on the candidates have changed as the primaries dragged on. I went from believing both candidates shared certain ideals with me to the point where I am now, knowing neither candidate represents me or my interests. Neither of their political parties speak for me, either. The Democratically controlled Congress promised radical reform and an end to the horrific abuses of power that have taken place during the Bush administration... but they did nothing. The Republicans opted to bury their collective heads in the middle eastern sand and pretend there were no problems on American soil.

Where does that leave those of us who value our freedom? Where does that leave those of us who want an end to government waste? Where does that leave those of us who want America to once again be the envy of other nations? Where does that leave those of us who are sick and tired of having to choose between the lesser of two evils? We are left with two candidates who are so bogged down in the quagmire of party politicking and back door deal making that the needs of American citizens get lost in the shuffle.

I want an America I can take pride in. I want an America where people can feel free to believe whatever they want. I want an America where everyone's voice can be heard echoing in the halls of government offices and courthouses. I want an America filled to the brim with truth and justice. Instead, I have an America that offers up McCain and Obama, hoping no one will notice that both fall far short of expectations.

Where is my political party? Where is my presidential candidate? Where is my United States of America?

Best wishes to the Kaz 20s

2008-08-15T21:51:00.001-07:00

I just wanted to wish good luck and good fortune to the newest group of Peace Corps Volunteers destined for Kazakhstan. They meet each other for the first time on Saturday. I met my fellow Kaz 11s just over six years ago. I've corresponded with a few of the Kaz 20s as they've prepared (to the extent anyone can prepare) for the journey. They seem a decent, energized, affable collection of people.

Safe journey to them, and here's hoping they share the highlights of their experiences.

Photoshop Lessons I Can't Use In The Classroom

2008-08-12T00:46:00.000-07:00

If you haven't discovered "You Suck At Photoshop" on MyDamnChannel, you do not know what you're missing. But I do... trust me... you're missing some great, dark comedy.

Winter in Kazakhstan...

2008-08-03T19:26:00.000-07:00

Thanks to the Kaz 19 PCVs who put this video together.

Ecstatic Brand Loyalty

2008-07-26T01:40:00.000-07:00

So... my downstairs neighbors have to go.

Setting aside the stupid bass speakers they insist on using... setting aside the combined stench of cheap beer and cigarettes wafting into my apartment at one o'clock in the morning... they are, and I feel I'm being kind here, complete and utter f-ing idiots.

Moments ago, a girl stepped outside to make what I am sure she believed to be a discreet phone call. I am sure she stepped outside to get away from the noise of the Friday night party. I am also sure she is a complete and utter f-ing idiot. I have proof. For starters, and this is just for starters, she is the sort of person who, when she has trouble hearing the person on the other end of the phone, speaks louder herself. That, by itself, is dumb enough... but I have more. While speaking at a constant, high volume, she decided to conduct a drug transaction. Stupidity personified... but I have more. After spending the requisite amount of time schmoozing her friend/dealer, she finally set about requesting enough of the drug ecstasy to share with her friends at the party... but I have more. Apparently, when it comes to ecstasy, she is picky about brands. Apparently, blue astronaut caps are not to her liking... at any cost.

All this is fine and dandy by itself... but she isn't by herself. She is surrounded by a group of complete and utter f-ing idiots. For you see... once the deal had been made, the group consciousness reached the devastating conclusion that none of them had a license to drive a car... but I have more. The exchange of non-blue astronaut ecstasy for cash (or possibly reckless teen sex... I wasn't privy to the final details of the verbal contract) was made all the more difficult because even if they had a licensed driver (and a car, for that matter) the friend/dealer in question was in a part of town known as Kearney Mesa... and nobody in the group knew where that was. The thing is, if one stands on the street where I live and looks immediately to the north, there is a big freakin' sign that indicates Kearney Mesa is only three miles to the north of the apartment complex.

I am sure there is more to the story, but quite frankly I was laughing loudly and openly at them and their boneheaded antics, so they moved the party back inside... now all I hear is the steady beating of blown bass speakers... and one guy futilely trying to convince a girl to do to him what somebody else has already done to the aforementioned speakers. And that's not funny... it is just sad.

Joe Speaks

2008-07-24T22:41:00.000-07:00

an addendum to my Comicon coverage

J Michael Straczynski has been a writer in Hollywood since he was 17-years-old. Now in his 50s, with multiple novels and screenplays under his belt, he seems more than qualified to offer up tips to budding authors... and that is exactly what he did. Thursday, July 24th, 2008, JMS spoke at Comic-Con International in San Diego. He took questions from an audience filled with aspiring literary artists. And he pulled no punches.

On being as diverse as possible when you're just starting out, Joe was adamant about writers creating scripts, short stories, magazine articles, and anything else they could sell. "Have more than one leg on the stool," was the analogy he used, adding that writers should "Explore areas outside the field of what you want to do."

He urged the audience to ignore "the tyranny of reasonable voices." That is to say, your friends and relatives will try to convince you that your dream is nothing more than a fool's errand. "There is no security this side of the grave," Joe said. "You have to take risks. You have to take chances."

When asked how he deals with what is conventionally known as writer's block, JMS defiantly told the crowd, "I've never had writer's block." He said there were times when he was writing at a different, higher level when he'd struggle, but only because he was not consciously aware that his writing had improved and that his mind needed to be in a different place. "If you're cheating on the writing," he said, "it will turn on you."

Joe spoke of the qualities that make a writer unique. Put simply, "You all bring something to the table that no one else does, and that is your own point of view." Having said that, he was quick to point out that to be a good writer, you must "fall out of love with the sound of your own voice." Rather than allow the novel or screenplay to drag on, he said, "You must learn the economy of language."

For those freaking out about the process, he said, "All that writing is is your natural voice speaking on the page." And for those still freaking out about the process, he said, "Don't think about climbing the mountain. Just put one foot in front of the other until you run out of mountain."

San Diego Comic-Con 2008

2008-07-24T21:43:00.000-07:00

9:45 a.m.

The geeks have landed.

So far, the process of getting where I want to go has been easier than expected.

I, along with several hundred of my fellow geeks, took the trolley from my neighborhood to the San Diego Convention Center. A quick pass through the registration desk to pick up my badge (badges... we do need stinking badges), and that was it. I was in.

So far, I have seen three Wookies, four Disney princesses, five drag queens, and several hundred people, myself included, who feel superior to those around them.
I'm sitting in Ballroom 5AB. In one hour and 15 minutes, JMS is scheduled to be in the room moderating a panel on screenwriting in Hollywood. However, in a few minutes, a panel about a comic book I've never heard of is scheduled to take place, so I think I'm going to go wander the floor for a bit.

Thanks to the event organizers for the free wi-fi.

12:15 p.m.

So far, I have seen four blue people, five green people, and more than a dozen cross-dressers. I don't mean to disparage either the fanboy or cross-dressing communities, but I never would have guessed they were intertwined.

Joe speaks. It turns out, JMS moderated a panel of one: himself. He did a Q&A on the subject of writing. I took notes. I guess he has a scheduled time on Saturday for autographs and pictures, so he wouldn't do any today. Bastard... just kidding... mostly.
Currently waiting for the "Greatest American Hero" panel to begin. Eager to see if William Katt still has his white-man afro. Oh, he just showed up. And he does.

1:30 p.m.

You could say I'm in the belly of the geek. You could say that, but I wouldn't.

Note: The fangirls (as opposed to fanboys) are, for the most part, dressed like futuristic whores... and God bless 'em for it.

I'm back in ballroom 5AB, waiting for the "Middleman" panel to begin. I confess I was fully prepared to heckle the "Greatest American Hero" panel... until Robert Culp walked into the room. Talk about a guy so tough he could chew nails. He'll supposedly be at one of the booths in the exhibition hall signing autographs... his I'd like to get. And thumbs up to Connie Sellecca, a.k.a. "the skirt," for still looking hot. Smokin' hot. I believe plastic surgery has done for her what Kathy Griffin wishes plastic surgery had done for her. Seriously, if a Hollywood casting agent is looking for a MILF, give Connie a call.
The trio of actors from the series still has tremendous chemistry. The banter between them was fun to hear. There is a comic book series (produced by Katt) due out in November, an online animation series due out in early 2009, and S. J. Cannell is doing a feature film remake next year, too. Believe it... or not.

I walked one aisle of the exhibition hall... the exclusive '66 Batmobile made by Hot Wheels kicks major ass, but for $30 I'm going to wait until I've walked more of the floor. After the "Middleman" panel, there is a break between events I want to attend, so I'll have more time for viewing the merchandise, picture taking, autograph procuring, etc.
Until then, I'm letting my geek flag fly.

4:30 p.m.

Having only seen the pilot episode of "Middleman," I was pleasantly surprised by how entertaining the producer and lead actor were (the hot female lead had to cancel at the last minute... damn).

A few "Middleman" tidbits:

The producers were only given 17 million for the first season... just over a million per episode... roughly the budget of a one hour series in 1989.
Supposedly, a banana was featured heavily in an episode that the prop department had to make... which cost them $1,200.
Kevin Sorbo guest stars in an upcoming episode as a retiring middleman.
The season finale will pay homage to the "Mirror Mirror" episode of Star Trek, complete with an evil Middleman who sports facial hair.

The showrunner of the series was a personable guy who seemed to know by name a lot of the show's hardcore fans. My guess is that if you visit the show's website, you are likely to chat with him at some point. Also of note was the entertaining ABC Family network executive who served as the moderator of the panel, but managed to eke out a few laughs all by himself.

The wait for autographs by the MST3k/RiffTrax guys was nearly an hour, but they were careful to take time and offer their attention to each fan. They were gracious, and I'm not happy their stage show is on another day.
Nearby, the "Red Sonja" people (including a cute as a button Rose McGowan) were generating a lot of fanboy buzz. "Fat Mamma" from some lame reality series was generating little to no buzz at all.

I did get my autograph and picture with Robert Culp... and reluctantly with William Katt, too (he just seemed in need of somebody noticing him).
I am skipping the Kevin Smith/hot sci-fi chicks panel because I really want to roam the exhibition hall and then have a seat somewhere and take a breath. This place gives one (at least it gives me) the feeling of ADHD... so much to look at, it can be hard at times to concentrate on any one thing.

Still planning to attend the Smigel/Triumph presentation in a few hours. After that... holy sh*t... Paris Hilton is scheduled to attend Comicon... what the f*ck is that about?

6:00 p.m.

Wandering the exhibition hall did nothing to curtail what now feels like a full blown case of ADHD. While there were many shiny objects, and women wearing skimpy shiny objects, there wasn't a lot I wanted to spend money on.

I purchased a Tick t-shirt where my favorite blue beetle shouts "Spoon!" Aside from a few requests from friends, so far that is the only purchase I've made.

The new line of Indiana Jones action figures looks cool. In particular, they did a nice job capturing the likeness of Sean Connery. Not much interesting by way of Star Wars or GI Joe action figures, which is good since I have been trying to curtail frivolous spending on toys. The Stargate and Ghostbusters video game displays looked cool, but not being a gamer they didn't take any of my money, either.

Avery Brooks, a.k.a. A Man Called Hawk, wanted $20 for an autograph and $15 for a picture with my flash turned on. Fan though I am, I have neither a flash photograph nor autograph of Mr. Brooks (or Playboy's Ms. November 1998, who oddly enough was charging the same price as Avery).

I snapped a few shots of some of the costumed gals wandering the halls, and they were all too eager to pose. A particular girl dressed in what she assured me was a very popular blue Halo character was fun to talk to, and almost made me want to play Halo. It dawns on me that if I had a way to listen to the inner voices of the people at Comicon, I would hear the collective chant, "notice me."

I have consumed combat rations, a.k.a. a Pop-Tart, so I am fortified and ready to locate the line for the Smigel panel... for me to poop on.

7:30 p.m.

The line for the Smigel/Triumph panel did, in fact, poop on me. The line was too long to even bother standing in, and since the only event following Smigel's included Paris Hilton, that as they say is that.

Comicon is well planned... I'll say that much for the convention (and return attendees tell me last year's con was abysmally organized). The San Diego Convention Center seems an ideal venue for this sort of thing, and aside from a stupid rule about not being able to sit while waiting in line (I thought they were going to poke the legs of a guy in a wheelchair at one point, just to be sure he wasn't faking it) crowd control was well managed.

My chief criticism is the long-delayed posting of events... long after tickets are sold out. I was lucky there were specific people and events I wanted to see today, but there were others on Friday and Saturday I would have liked to have seen, too, had I known about them in advance. If I go again (most likely not next year unless somebody else pays), I'll probably get the four day pass... maybe even a hotel room in or around the convention center so I can treat it as a more casual affair.

It sounds silly, but one habit I picked up from my time in the Peace Corps is to save plastic bags. In most countries they charge for them, and a lot of the time stores flat out didn't have them which meant I'd have to carry things home in my arms. I don't save flimsy grocery store bags, but I do save more durable ones... in particular bags from the Apple store that have the handy self closing shoulder strap things. I highly recommend future convention goers bring one of these, as attendees will accumulate a lot of SWAG in the course of a day at Comicon.

As for the geeks, I guess it is a matter of degree. When I worked at Toys 'R' Us years ago, "collectors" used to line up in the early morning in search of the leather clad Harley Davidson Barbie Doll. They'd bang on the doors, cuss out the staff, and knock little kids to the ground in order to secure their masturbatorial aid. Without question, those sorts of fanatics were at the convention, but the vast majority of attendees... of us... were just admirers of creativity.

Of the writers, producers, artists, and actors I met, mostly I simply said "thank you." The part of me that is a geek values the artistry of any given craft, even if I'm not a devoted fan. I am not a comic book guy, and though there are science fiction programs I enjoy, I don't get worked up over the genre. But I admire those who do what they do well, and this convention was a chance to say that to them in person. This convention was also a chance to stare at nearly naked blue women, so really it is a win-win.

For nostalgia's sake...

2008-07-22T16:08:00.001-07:00

Lamentations

2008-07-11T15:07:00.000-07:00

Five years. Four addresses. Five jobs. One funeral.

Welcome back, my friends, to the online therapy session that never ends.

How do I summarize a half a decade of my life in a few paragraphs? At this point, five years is a drop in the bucket. It's roughly a seventh of my life. A few things the other sevenths of my life held: birth, puberty, poverty, devirginization, graduation, and Hollywood (to name a select few). Oh yeah, and there as that whole Peace Corps thing.

Next week it will have been five years since my plane touched down in California, the last step of a premature end to my days as a volunteer in Kazakhstan. Chronic intermittent stomach pain was my undoing. While I was there, I fell in love... twice, was physically in the best shape of my life (stomach issues aside, of course), and (according to sources) was the target of short, whiny, Russian terrorists hellbent on murdering me for my oilwells. Oh, and one time, I crapped my pants (not a lot, but a little goes a long way)... a rite of passage in the Peace Corps.

You know the expression, "it doesn't seem like it has been five years?" Well in my case it does seem like it has been five years. I experienced some of the most memorable moments of my life in Central Asia, but five years out I'm having trouble remembering a lot of it. I remember faces without names and incidents without specific dates. It is becoming a jumble... much like the rest of my life.

If, as they say, the moments are all we have, then what does it say when the moments blur and fade? I lived a half a world away for an entire year, a change one could only describe as dramatic, but five years later it has merged with all the rest of the junk cluttering my mind. I don't want it to do that. I spoke another language for goodness sake, and even that has been reduced to a few words and phrases.

The human mind is a complex set of somethings that when something happens, it cause something else to happen, and all of those somethings join together to make... something. Perhaps if I'd paid more attention in science class, I would know how my mind works. And perhaps if I knew how my mind worked I'd be better able to keep my memories intact, and possibly delete the bad ones. Perhaps not.

Five years ago, I was sitting in a hotel room in Roslyn, VA waiting for the Peace Corps powers-that-be to decide my fate. And while I understood their decision at the time, I felt then (and now) that they chose poorly. The mildly compulsive part of my nature hates leaving things unfinished. To this day I regret not having been able to spend one more year in Central Asia.

As I noted at the time, there is a freedom that can only come from living in a foreign land surrounded by strangers. I'm not talking about visiting as a tourist... I'm talking about packing up and living a life elsewhere. The locals already expect you to be different from them, so there's no point in trying to be what might be conventionally defined as "normal." You say and do whatever you want (within limited reason, of course), and though many assume I do that wherever I hang my hat... they have no idea.

My current job does not allow me to be myself. I can be a heavily filtered version of myself, but it isn't the same. My preference in life has always been to be who I am with as little pretense as possible, and I am keenly aware that preference has cost me relationships and financial gain over the years. At day's end, I'd rather be myself alone than somebody else with somebody else, and I'd rather be myself poor than somebody else rich. Which was why, being myself alone and poor, the Peace Corps was perfect for me. It allowed me to genuinely fall in love and experience life in its purest, rawest form. Five years later, I still miss it.

Cookie Monster on Colbert Report

2008-07-09T20:50:00.000-07:00

courtesy of Hulu:

"Babylon 5" scripts - the post script

2008-07-08T15:34:00.000-07:00

Just dropping a line to mention I was one of those devotees who shelled out wads of cash for the full volume set of Babylon 5 scripts penned by creator J Michael Straczynski. This includes the bonus book given as a free gift to those of us who bought the full set of scripts. Joe has already stated he'll produce a similar set of books for Crusade and the subsequent B5 spinoff attempts, but there is a nicety to the completeness of this set of scriptbooks. The revelations and commentaries JMS wrote at the top of each volume go a long way towards explaining the process of writing, selling, and producing a television show (though all accounts are obviously written from Joe's personal bias). And the memorial testimonies offered at the passing of Andreas Katsulas and Richard Biggs were touching, personal eulogies that left me feeling like I actually knew those who had passed. In short, the books might not appreciate in financial value, but they still seem a worthwhile purchase to me.

Cafe Press (the online printer and distributor of the books) seems an ideal outlet for books of this type, so much so that I'm shocked other writers aren't self-publishing their own work in a like manner (a set of books containing the handful of B5 scripts NOT written by JMS has already begun releasing volumes, but my budget is stretched too thin to continue the buying frenzy). Surely writers who consider what is on the page to be at least as important as what is on the stage (Aaron Sorkin, David Milch, and Glenn Caron's names leap immediately to mind) would want the words to be seen and experienced as they were written, along with tales of the process. I know Sorkin released a few West Wing scripts in book form, but this particular company (and the format JMS seems to have created) makes it possible for entire seasons of scripts to be released with little to no effort or expense (Cafe Press prints only as many books as are sold, so there is no minimum run and no set-up fee).

It is also worth mentioning JMS currently has at least nine film scripts in production with major producers, directors, and actors in Hollywood, and these books are a unique look at how a guy goes from writing goofy scripts for He-Man cartoons to being what Variety recently called one of the top 10 screenwriters in Hollywood.

Hopefully folks took my advice back in October of 2005 when I first made mention of the scripts becoming formally public for sale. If not, then I guess this is my chance to gloat... I finally got one right.

Thanks Joe.

Innanimated

2008-07-08T14:06:00.001-07:00

Free time. Time to relax. Time to take care of all the little things you don't normally have time for. Time to think. Uh oh.

Two days ago I got pissed at a packet of hot dogs. I wish I was kidding. I was trying to squeeze the open packet into a Ziplock bag, something I've done many times in the past without incident. Yet despite the fact two of the hot dogs had been removed from the packet (for consumption purposes, and don't even start on me and my diet), I couldn't get the bag to seal around the hot dogs. Before I knew what had happened, the hot dogs went sailing across the room... something the Ziplock bag was not designed to do. A small but uncontained explosion of plastic and meat by-product ensued. Later, as I sat there cleaning up shattered wiener remnants (insert innuendo here), I couldn't help but ponder what (or who) it was I was truly angry at.

I stopped drinking caffeine years ago. It made me extra-irritable. During what I call me caffeinated phase, I broke windows with my bare hands, plunged screwdrivers into walls, and through my entire collection of music against a wall (back then, the collection was mostly audio cassettes). I'm surprised I never stroked out while on the stuff. During my post-caffeinated phase, I haven't lost my temper nearly as much, and when I have it has been about something big... until the #@$!ing hot dogs. And I haven't felt any violent tendencies towards innanimate objects in this millennium... until the #@$!ing hot dogs. I feel like I've regressed, and I'm not sure how or why.

I'm the sort of guy who detests change, but recently I've felt the sudden and almost desperate need for a massive, positive, life altering event. I can't explain it, but I feel the need for something new to happen soon, or I'm going to pop. Naturally, whenever I take steps to enact change in my life, it has a tendency to backfire terribly. Any change that happens in my life has to happen in spite of me, not because of me. I'm frustrated, somewhat confused, and more than a little bit tired of the routine. But typically any break in the routine is due to something bad gumming up the works, so to speak. I want a break with a positive, even optimal event taking place. With as little self-esteem as I have, I feel entitled to a little happiness at this stage in my life.

In the meantime, beware any innanimate objects that cross my path.

Remember Cosby's routine about "worse"?

2008-07-05T12:25:00.001-07:00

My attitude towards life at this point: things could be worse. Sure, I have too much credit card debt for home ownership to become viable. And the argument could be made that I've wasted roughly a third of my life chasing after the wrong woman. Then there's my sister following the path of my oldest brother and my mom in terms of being diagnosed with a heart condition. I also need to lose weight. Additionally, as I sit here typing this, somebody is blaring wretched pop music, and even though there are currently three drop dead gorgeous women tanning themselves less then 15 feet from where I sit, none of them have plans to have sex with me. I still have over a month of summer vacation, but I lack the money to really go anywhere or do anything. Oh, I didn't get nearly enough sleep last night, and the last several nights I've had dreams that might not qualify as nightmares, but they were disturbing enough to leave me unsettled.

But things could be worse.

MacBook for me

2008-07-03T14:38:00.001-07:00

Approximately two months ago, I purchased (OK charged) a new MacBook. The plan was to automatically pay off the purchase with my tax refund and "economic stimulus" check. I'm still waiting on both checks to arrive, but that is neither here nor there (nor is the fact my brakes went out and I've incurred a few other expenses along the way... nope... no here nor there at this point).

First and foremost, I dig this computer. It is head and shoulders above the Vista-based laptop I've used over the last year (loaned to me by my place of business). And it is head and shoulders above the last computer I purchased, an iMac (bought back in 1998). I went with the slightly higher processor speed and larger hard drive, but I didn't feel the need to upgrade to a MacBook Pro. The only practical benefit I saw with the Pro was a slightly larger screen.

I bought Norton's virus protection software and Final Cut Express. I also went ahead and purchased a wireless mouse, which I confess I don't use nearly enough, though I should since trackpads have never been my preference. I bought adaptors that allow me to connect to both an overhead projection system (at work) and any TV with either a standard video or S-Video input (at home). I bought the Airport Extreme wireless network for my apartment, which I concede is overkill. My work also provided the latest version of Microsoft's Office suite of software (we have a site license). I installed Firefox (version 3.0, thank you very much), Adium, Skype, and of course iTunes, not to mention a few games from the good folks at download.com (or perhaps it should be Download.Com... never quite sure how to include web sources in written text).

I have owned Apple computers since the late 1980s, and used Windows-based PCs since the early 1990s. I'm not about to get into a whole Mac vs. PC debate. Suffice it to say, Macs are better for me... that might not be the case for everyone on the planet, though the Vista operating platform will almost certainly send people to the Apple store. In any case, I know both formats well and have used them extensively for apx. 20 years.

What I want to do now is sing the praises and point out the flaws in my MacBook. No computer is perfect. In fact, many computers are obsolete before they are even purchased. It is worth noting what works well and what needs improvement, and that includes user error as much as any factory-related flaws.

I'll start with what most users find themselves doing upon purchasing a new computer: transferring files, documents, and applications from their old computer. This proved staggeringly easy. In fact, a few years ago I installed Adobe's Creative Suite onto my old iMac and, long story short, I no longer have the installation discs. I was certain copy protection would prevent me from transferring the software from one computer to another, but everything went like clockwork.

One sidenote about the older Adobe software... it is the only software on my new MacBook designed for the earlier version of OSX (and the earlier processor). The boot-up process is flawless, though it takes a few seconds longer. One thing worth noting is that for these earlier applications, double clicking on a file will open the application, but not the specific file itself. It is, if not exactly a glitch, at least an inconvenience.

I also feared copy protection would prevent me from copying my extensive iTunes library (found on two computers, since my work computer played video clips while my old iMac did not), but I encountered no problems at all. I was particularly worried songs and videos purchased off of the iTunes store (as oppose to media copied from my CD collection) wouldn't transfer, but they did with ease. I am, however, still reorganizing the media since iTunes folders don't transfer. A different version of iTunes also doesn't recognize that podcasts have been played elsewhere, so I have a lot of podcasts marked as unplayed.

File organization now more or less mimics the Windows Explorer directory system (though it can be switched to Mac's more traditional folder view). "Spotlight" replaces the older method of finding files, and I confess I'm still getting used to that. One key difference is that I am very often trying to locate a file, not to open it, but to copy it or move it to another folder. Clicking on the file in Spotlight doesn't take you to the file... it opens it instead. There may be a way to change the default on that, but I haven't found it yet.

Setting up the Airport network wasn't as easy as I expected it to be given the plug-and-play feature of most Apple products. It took me a few attempts to set the network name and password before everything worked properly. Personally, I assume the extra grief is due to the fact the Airport is designed to work with both Mac and PC laptops, and nothing is easy when it comes to PC-based installations. For the record, the wireless mouse took me less than a minute to set up and use.

A few Apple features still bug me. To me, iPhoto is a big waste of space, and I find it annoying so many things one does with pictures automatically defaults to iPhoto. Pictures can be stored in folders and Preview can run a slideshow, so organization and viewing are easier elsewhere. For those of us with Photoshop, iPhoto becomes utterly useless. And both Expose and Spaces do nothing for the average user. Garage Band and Photo Booth are mildly entertaining wastes of time... nothing more. For PC users, a chief complaint about Macs is the cost. Take out a few of the "cutesy" features, drop the cost a bit, and I would suspect sales would increase.

Having spent the last 10 months getting aquainted with Office 2007 for the PC, imagine my surprise that Office 2008 for the Mac is a dramatic step backwards. For the first time since its creation, Office for the PC made sense. Though it takes some getting used to, the ribbons are a much better alternative to drop down menus, and items are placed more intuitively. Office 2008 for the Mac has none of the user-friendly environment of its closest PC cousin. Commonly used features in Word, Excel, and PowerPoint are buried under submenus. I can only assume Microsoft did this as a last ditch effort to keep Windows users from switching to the Mac platform. In my case, it is making me become better acquainted with the online suite of applications offered free of charge by Google.

My favorite feature so far has been the $11 adaptor that connects my laptop to my television. I've watched several programs on Hulu, and to be able to instantly see on a TV screen any video editing I do is well worth the minimal cost. It is also neat to Skype on a big screen.

So far, though I admit I have not dived in too deeply, I am displeased with both iMovie and Final Cut Express. I am blessed with the sort of brain that instinctively understands how software works without the need to pour through manuals or walk myself through any tutorial process, but Final Cut has me stumped. I am going to have to devote serious time to that program. And the latest version of iMovie is... just... so... different. I guess for someone like me who first learned video editing using linear analog tape-to-tape equipment, I struggle with the "freedom" that comes from non-linear thinking, which is what the latest version of iMovie seems perfect for.

Like I stated at the top, some of these problems stem from the factory, while others are the fault of the user. But overall I am pleased with the purchase. My MacBook has already become an electronic extension of my brain, altering my work and play habits in much the same way my iPod did five years ago. Hopefully, what works well will continue to thrive while what needs improvement will either be fixed or replaced by something as yet unthought of.

Yesterday's "Non-Sequitur"

2008-06-28T10:27:00.000-07:00

George Carlin (1937-2008)

2008-06-22T23:50:00.000-07:00

He managed to remain socially relevant and funny for over 40 years, at the forefront of multiple generations of counter-cultural revolutions (all of which failed, but not for lack of trying). His voice was unique. I'll miss his take on humanity.

And because it would make me smile, here's hoping they give him a military funeral with high honors for his service to our nation.

The breach...

2008-06-19T22:54:00.001-07:00

What kind of day has it been?

Better still... what kind of week... or month... or even year?

There are things... things you are taught are important. Important things. But it's all a crock, isn't it? First of all, nobody needs to be taught what's important... we all know. Oh we may not all admit to it, but we all know. And the oft' spoken conventional answers are uttered more out of convenience than anything else. It is simpler to recite a few choice passages from a favorite philosopher or theological figurehead than to actually frame an argument that centuries of agreed upon ideology is bunk.

But we don't contradict the masters and we don't break out of the cookie cutter world that was... well... cut out for us. It goes against the nature of man to choose to do what's hard. It goes against the evolution of society to reject a handout merely because you didn't earn it. And I'm as guilty as the next guy.

What kind of year has it been? I have made two stupid choices this year, one personal, the other professional. Alright, I've made more than two... heck I've made more than two stupid choices today, but there are two that really stick out in my head right now. I have time to right the wrongs, but it will be a battle. A battle to refuse to take what life has handed me. A battle to regain something important in my life.

What kind of year has it been? There are still six months left... ask again later.

"Ninja Warrior"

2008-06-15T18:47:00.000-07:00

I caught the G4 import from Japan yesterday while hanging with mom (who is recovering nicely from open heart surgery, thank you very much). I assumed from the show description that it would be a series like MXC/Takashi's Castle. Instead, "Ninja Warrior" is a serious show featuring grueling physical endurance tests (93 out of 100 contestants were eliminated in the first round, and none of them made it to the fourth and final round). The wannabe ninjas make the American Gladiators seem like... well... wimps like me. This is a series where insurance and liability issues all but preclude it from being remade on US soil. The show managed to hold my interest... the 40 minutes of it that I watched. Then again, there was so little on TV this weekend that a repeat of the long cancelled "Dog Eat Dog" held my interest (attractive women forced to undress, get wet, then answer trivia questions... how was this series cancelled?).

More Podcast Picks

2008-05-21T20:15:00.000-07:00

This is another installment of podcast selections... things I'm listening to and viewing on my iPod and iTunes. I note that some of the following are poorly produced, but the content usually makes up for the lack in audio or video quality. For your searching pleasure, the exact titles of each podcast series are in quotes...

Audio Podcasts:

"Conway and Whitman" (Free FM) - Tim Conway Jr. has the on-air voice of a baseball play-by-play guy, but instead he hosts a freakishly high rated evening talk show. He used to have a regular co-host (hence the "Whitman" in the title, something Free FM/CBS has yet to revise), but lately he has a rotating batch of guest co-hosts. I dig Wednesdays when the co-host is Arsenio Hall, but Casey Kasem's daughter is occasionally entertaining when she fills in, too.

"Five O'Clock Funnies with Uncle Joe Benson" (KLOS) - Radio veteran Joe "Bentrod" Benson hosts a daily segment spotlighting a five to 10 minute clip of a notable comedian. From Carlin to Seinfeld, Lopez to Black, Kinison to Martin, the clips are enough to brighten one's day.

"Henson.com Podcast" - Poor production value, but check out the podcast that features a tour of the Jim Henson studio. Using still photos, they offer a tour of the former Charlie Chaplin studio facility... possibly the last full production motion picture studio still located in the heart of Hollywood. Since the lot is closed to the public, it is a rare glimpse inside a beautiful and historic locale.

"Hey, We're Back" - Comedian Jonathan Katz hosts (and seemingly produces) this semi-regular series featuring skits, interviews, fake interviews, and phone calls to Katz's nemesis... directory assistance.

"The Mark And Brian Show" (KLOS) - My favorite LA based morning show (I have yet to find a decent San Diego morning team and usually listen to Mark and Brian via the internet in the mornings). Sadly, the podcast features clips of their sketches, and their sketch material has never been why I enjoy their show. Still, some of them are funny.

"PRI: The Sound of Young America" and "The Sound of Young America Classics" (PRI) - This is a horribly produced show (older archived material found under the second title) that somehow manages to book some fantastic guests, including: Joel Hodgson, Chris Elliott (who provides much more insight into the world of TV production than you'd expect), Nick Hornby, Steven Wright, Bob Odenkirk, and Paula Poundstone. Suffer through the interviewer and enjoy the guests themselves.

"PRI: Michael Feldman's Whad'Ya Know" (PRI) - Slow paced comedy (so slow Garrison Keillor would look at his watch if he were sitting in the audience) but still funny and topical along the lines of "Wait Wait Don't Tell Me."

"Stand Up Sit Down" (XM) - Unedited interviews from an XM station devoted to comedy. The Bill Cosby and John Cleese interviews are worth singling out.

"Tavis Smiley | PBS" (PBS) - Full segments of Tavis talking to various celebrities and newsmakers. Unlike PBS's other pop culture interviewer Charlie Rose, Smiley can actually ask intelligent questions and even offer up follow up questions when the situation calls for it.

Video Podcasts:

"Anderson Cooper 360° Daily (Video)" (CNN) - Roughly 30 minutes of AC's program. Sadly, it usually concludes with a wacky, zany happy-talk segment... ugh.

"Clive James - Cultural Amnesia Podcast" (TimesOnline) - Clive is old, cantankerous, and half the time I don't know what the heck he is talking about. The other half of the time, he is tremendously insightful. This was a three part series on notable names of the 20th century.

"The Clive James Show | Latest Videos" (WelcomeStranger) - A series of interviews between James and various authors, scholars, and celebrities.

"Crackle: Penn Says" (Sony) - Penn Jillette's sporadic video blog/diary is little more than camcorder footage Penn usually shoots himself, but his outlook on life is often amusing. Of course, he is going to burn in hell.

"The Ricky Gervais Podcast" - This is worth subscribing to, even if it doesn't appear to have been updated in a while (and several podcasts have been produced by Gervais, nearly all with the same title, so subscribe to all you can). The reason is that Ricky will post clips and interviews at random times, the most recent being a commentary track for a speaking engagement released on DVD.

"Video: Face The Nation" (CBS) - Bob is cool. Bob rocks. Please enjoy Bob now.

Сломленные Сновидения

2008-05-19T22:23:00.000-07:00

You can't always get what you want. Truer words might have been written... that is, if truth were measurable in terms of degree. A thing is either true or it isn't... there is no in between.

I've had a lot of dreams. To the best of my knowledge, not one of them has come true. Oh, I've come close a few times, but... well... horseshoes and hand grenades. Still, my needs are basic, and my desires have dwindled over the years. That is not to say I've given up dreaming, but I realize the gap between dreams and reality makes the Grand Canyon seem like a minor blemish.

I try new things. It is very hard for me to try new things, but (bluntly) the old things don't work. I long for the life I led 10-years-ago, which is stupid because 10-years-ago my life sucked. I can't explain it. It isn't that I want to live my life over again. Even knowing what I know now, I'd just screw it up in different ways. I choose to hold on to elements from my past, hoping they are the right elements... hoping I'm not mistakenly clinging to the wrong things.

I don't know what I want from myself. It took a long time, but I finally think I have a grasp on who I am. And though that realization is no small achievement, there is still a lot I can't figure out. Yes... I am me... but so what? Knowledge is only good if it can be applied. How can I apply myself, or what I know about myself, to... anything?

Life doesn't get easier, by the way. Life is relentless. I see possibility all around me, but seeing it is not enough. Nothing has worked so far, but I've tried so many different things that it is hard to come up with new ideas or strategies. It is hard to come up with new dreams.

An ode to "Moonlighting"

2008-05-18T13:29:00.000-07:00

I've been watching episodes of the series over the weekend, and I am impressed with how well the overall quality of the show holds up over time. Though the wardrobe and hair are dated, the production value from 20 years ago is still astounding. I know the show was one of the first to be owned by the network that carried it, and as a result the deadlines were loose (and in some seasons seemingly non-existent, to the point of only producing a fraction of the intended episodes). The network was patient with the series, as were viewers and critics. It strikes me that none of those things are true about present day programs.

When the folks at "Moonlighting" decided to do the infamous black and white episode, they tracked down some of the last black and white film cameras still working in Hollywood... whereas a modern show would simply transfer footage shot in color to black and white. On the infamous dance episode, they tracked down choreographers and directors from the hay-day of MGM musicals and utilized their know-how. In the "Taming of the Shrew" episode, the modern dialogue was written in iambic verse. The extra effort paid off.

Though the show didn't always cast big name guest stars, I think an argument can be made that "Moonlighting" elevated actors to stardom in much the same way Carson's Tonight Show used to elevate comedians. Either that or the show's casting director had a gift of finding talent "on the brink." The show also served as a proving ground for a flood of writers, directors, editors, and producers who have gone on to achieve independent success elsewhere. The only other series I'm aware of that seemed to shepherd new talent into the fold was "L.A. Law," where Stephen Bochco became the patriarch of TV crime drama for the next two decades (remind me to slap him for giving the world the nightmare that is David Kelley).

Anyway, if you haven't viewed the series in a while, I encourage you to give it another look. The show has a creative vibe that I've not seen on a series before or since. Though the stories of behind-the-scenes friction are legendary within the industry, what plays on the screen contains a chemistry like no other.

On a personal note, of all the celebrities I met during my years in Hollywood, I was only star struck by two... and Cybill Shepherd was one of them. I was an intern at CNBC, and she was to appear as a guest on Tom Snyder's talk show. I was alone in the tiny studio adjusting some cables on the floor when a pair of slender, shapely legs came within an arm's length of me. In a shot right out of "Moonlighting," my eyes panned from her legs up to her eyes, taking care to note everything inbetween. I know she asked me a question, and I know I was unable to answer (not only was it one of the rare instances when I was star struck, but I was also speechless... an equally rare occurrence).

Google Analytics Testing

2008-05-06T10:48:00.000-07:00

This isn't really a message, at least not an intelligible one (any comments about how that makes this no different than any other posts can be kept to yourself, thanks). I am curious to see if the addition to certain popular keywords can increase traffic to my blog.

lesbian
女同志
лесбиянки
여성 동성 애자
مثلية
sex

性别
секс
성별
الجنس

Barack Obama
Hillary Clinton
John McCain
George W Bush
online gambling
how to build a bomb
Britney Spears
Miley Cyrus
Johnny Depp
Zach Braff

We now return you to our regularly scheduled blog, already in progress.

Нарушать

2008-04-26T14:22:00.000-07:00

Last week, I had the opportunity to witness the male/female dynamic at its most base level. In other words, I got to watch teens and preteens plunge headfirst into the world of love, lust, and raging hormones. All men are not the same, nor are all women, but there exists a certain commonality of experience. Most notably, there exists a common initial inexperience... and the subsequent awkwardness.

For example, I watched what some might deem an "alpha female" subject the males in the group to do her bidding, despite the fact none of them seemed to have any clue what the ultimate reward would be for such submissive behavior. "Because she told me to" was the principle defense upon which the cases of all the boys collectively rested. This lone girl, without even much intellect or personality, held her male peer group under her thumb.

Yesterday I relayed more detailed descriptions of how all of this played out to... well... the girl of my dreams. Our particular social dynamic defies all logic and reason, yet we continue to exist (or at least subsist) in each others' lives, however tangentially. And it wasn't until I'd finished my account of the week's adventures in puberty when I realized that although I first became a teenager 20 years ago, I have not evolved all that much in terms of the way I interact with females.

I can count on one hand the number of close relationships I have with members of the opposite sex. But the women who do manage to get through my defenses have me at a genuine disadvantage. Without question I will say and do things so far out of character it scares me... "because she told me to." You would think two decades would have taught me more than it has. You would think I would be on more even footing than I am. You would be wrong.

Disturbing, that reality is.

A Sly piece of merchandising

2008-04-19T23:48:00.000-07:00

I was wandering around my local Fry's Electronics today when I happened upon a sale rack in their DVD department. The merchandising geniuses made me laugh out loud. Lined up was the entire series of Rocky movies. On the far left of the rack were dozens of copies of "Italian Stallion," Sylvester Stallone's pre-fame porn flick (post-fame, the name was changed when the film was re-released). I know the folks at Fry's are a quirky bunch of people, but to the best of my knowledge they don't sell porn videos (porn magazines, yes... right next to the computer games). I don't know if this was done intentionally, or if someone at Fry's mistook the film as an official part of the franchise. I recall comedian Bobcat Goldthwait used to actually show clips of the film in his stand up routine, claiming the footage was way funnier than anything Bob could write on his own. Anyway, it is on sale for nine bucks if anyone is interested. I bought season 3 of "Stargate Atlantis" instead.

Today's "Non Sequitur"

2008-03-18T17:23:00.000-07:00

The true measure of a woman

2008-03-15T21:02:00.001-07:00

Life, liberty, and the pursuit of women.

Forgive me... I'm just doing a little polish on the writing of Thomas Jefferson, who was of course polishing the words of John Locke. It took a few hundred years, but I think I finally nailed the correct phrase.

As we near another "Holy Week," it seems fitting that I have been reflecting on my 33 years of life. After all, it is estimated that Jesus lived to be approximately my age. Aside from his mother and one other woman named Mary, not much was written about Christ's relationships with the fairer sex. It is one of the eternal mysteries.

A cliched concept is the question of whether God, in his awesome power, could create a rock so big that not even He could move it. I submit that when God created woman, He created something not even He could fully understand. And you know what they say about sins of the father, so it is natural that Jesus remained silent about the ladies in His life.

I have dated a few women in my time, but not many. I have entered into a few relationships, but they were all unsuccessful. For as long as I can remember, I have stated that I enjoy the chase... the pursuit, if you will. And I do. But more often than not I am underwhelmed by what I encounter when the chase is over. For the longest time, I was convinced that I needed a woman to be truly happy. After years of soul searching, I now know that is not the case. I can achieve happiness on my own... it is just easier when women are involved.

But then it comes down to a question of degree. Once upon a time, I met a woman who made me very happy. Then things took a frightful turn and I felt as miserable as I'd ever feel. But as I moved on with my life and resumed periodic moments of happiness, I began to see it as a quantifiable element.

It is said that after a break up, you should not try to compare other women with your ex-girlfriend. True enough, and I assure you I do no such thing. Instead, I measure how happy I feel when I'm with a woman. There are women I've met over the years who possess the ability to make me feel better merely by being in their presence. When I am around those women, the rest of the world becomes somewhat of a haze, I feel a tightness in my chest and butterflies in my stomach. It can really be quite exhilarating.

It takes a lot for me to be happy, so when I find something... be it person, place, or thing... that brings a smile to me face, I am drawn to it. Oftentimes it defies all logic and reason. Oftentimes I can't even explain it to my own satisfaction. But there is a condition of happiness that I strive for, and when I encounter women, that is the barometer by which I measure them. Once upon a time, I met a woman who made me very happy, and ever since then, I've tried to find another woman who measures up. But it isn't a comparison of women... it is a comparison of how I feel when I'm with women.

I'm still looking, but there are moments when the familiar beckons and I wonder about things I probably shouldn't. But to be alive is meaningless without freedom. To be denied basic liberties would make me unhappy. And, though I can be happy on my own, nothing makes me happier than when I am in the company of women. Scoff all you want, but the fact there were children sired between Jefferson and his female slaves tells me he'd agree with me, even if he never set quill to parchment and wrote it down. And my specific happiness vice is nowhere near as scandalous.

Mary Ann caught with Mary Jane

2008-03-11T19:46:00.000-07:00

She can't even blame Gilligan... he's been dead for three years

Gary Gygax, D&D co-creator, fails to roll a natural 20

2008-03-04T20:19:00.000-08:00

I thought I'd mention the passing of a man who created the biggest collection of geeks since Trekkies. Dungeons & Dragons wasn't something I took particularly seriously, but several of my friends did (they would scowl at me when I'd name my characters Steve or Norm while they were coming up with names like Gandorf or Whiffleslausen). D&D offered up a true fantasy world (something children raised in Reagan's America desperately needed). We all know the stories of kids who killed themselves after their D&D characters were taken out by a level seven cleric with a grudge (the premise spawned lackluster episodes of "Fall Guy," "Knight Rider," and "Greatest American Hero," and nearly all the related episodes guest starred Eddie Deezen as the geek in question), but most just used it to pass the time when they weren't getting laid in high school.

Trail to doomseday

2008-02-24T15:09:00.000-08:00

Has anyone else noticed that as soon as we get a form of technology to do what we want it to, an inferior form of technology comes along to replace it? Telephone land lines were reliable, so naturally we turned our attention to cellular service (when a phone company's slogan is "Can you hear me now?" it tells you everything you need to know about the quality of service). Cable TV did its thing, but now we have digital cable (because when surveyed about viewing habits, people were so stupid... possibly drunk... they stated they wanted more audio-only music channels). People finally got the hang of Windows XP, so naturally along comes Vista which is so full of crap there should be the sound of a toilet flushing when it boots up. VCRs could be programed with ease (even the clock automatically set itself), so naturally TIVO and other DVRs come along (and people whine about how the beginnings and endings of shows are getting cut off).

Everyone is looking forward to the digital revolution, now 51 weeks away. Meanwhile, recent studies reveal those who use mobile/cellular technology (including Blackberries, iPhones, iPod Touches, standard text messaging features on cell phones, and wireless laptops) create interference with digital reception, causing digital static and/or total loss of service.

I wasn't half as concerned about the "Millennium bug" as I am about February of 2009. Maybe everything is going to go fine and incident free, but I'm stocking up on canned goods just in case.

Movies about strippers: a thoughtful analysis

2008-02-18T10:44:00.000-08:00

In the pantheon of the American cinema, there have been more than a few films featuring women with the chosen vocation of stripper. On the silver screen, strippers have hearts of gold, are not meth addicts, and only sleep with guys they really, really like. The stripper archetype exists for three reasons:

To offer us insight into the seedy underbelly of the setting (i.e.- the streets, the ghetto, or Las Vegas)
To give viewers a chance to see a naked actress (or near naked actress) flaunting her t*ts and a$$ (or at least some side boob... mmm... side boob)
To convince simple minded men that they have a chance of screwing a near-virginal stripper with no social diseases

Some of Hollywood's brightest stars have appeared as strippers, either pole or lap dancing their way into our hearts (and pants). Some of Hollywood's biggest films would have been nothing without the naked flesh found between the sprockets. A few modest examples:

"Tango & Cash" - Admittedly, a wretched, pain inducing film. But what would have registered as a 9.0 on the Richter Scale was softened by the appearance of a young Ms. Teri Hatcher, a stripper who managed to seduce her audience while keeping her clothes on (strip clubs in movies with a PG rating amuse me, with their feeble attempts to convince us that patrons frequent strip joints to view clothed women... I ain't buying it)
"Striptease" - Admittedly, a wretched, pain inducing film. But at least Demi Moore gave it her all, and showed most of her all.
"Barb Wire" - Admittedly, a wretched, pain inducing film. Pamela Anderson Lee is a stripper by day, soldier of fortune by night (or maybe it was the other way around). In the opening credit sequence, she strips for an audience, and kills one of them for daring to suggest she "take it all off, baby." To me, that would be like an accountant killing a client for saying, "Do the math, Bob."
"Showgirls" - Admittedly, a wretched, pain inducing film. And I am still not totally convinced Gina Gershon is a woman. I am, however, pleased that Elizabeth Berkeley is a woman... a woman with no integrity whatsoever when it comes to choosing on-screen roles for herself.
"Closer" - Natalie Portman is freakin' hot! This is easily the best film featuring a stripper, and easily the best stripper featured in a film. If I thought for a minute that strip clubs featured women the likes of Natalie Portman, I might actually consider going into one.
"I Know Who Killed Me" - This film earns bonus points for casting an actress who seems to fit into the skanky world of squalid strip joints. And, no, I don't mean the character fits into that world... I mean it would not surprise me to see Lindsey Lohan getting dollar bills shoved into her garter in an actual strip club (for the record, I paid exactly $3.33 for a used copy of this movie at Blockbuster and, having watched the movie, that seems like a fair price).

These films are a microcosm for the real world. Stripper characters are metaphorical representations of the id at its most primal. But mostly, they are fantastic ways to see the naked flesh of a woman who would never, ever, not in a million years, have sex with you.

Well, maybe Lindsey Lohan will have sex with you, but it could cost as much as 20 bucks. And please wear a condom... you don't know where Lindsey has been.

Let's play the Feud...

2008-02-03T16:35:00.001-08:00

I am sitting at home on a rainy Sunday afternoon when I should be outside jogging. Instead, I'm watching the "All Star Family Feud" DVD set I just picked up at Best Buy. I forgot how much Richard Dawson used to practically molest the females on the show, and the only reason I mention it is the profound jealousy I experienced as I watched these episodes. It was like a Who's Who list of my pre and post pubescent crushes from shows like The Brady Bunch (Marcia Marcia Marcia!), WKRP (Loni Loni Loni!), Knight Rider (Bonnie Bonnie Bonnie!), Dukes of Hazard (Daisy Daisy Daisy!), One Day At A Time (Valerie Valerie Valerie!), and Gilligan's Island (Mary-Anne Mary-Anne Mary-Anne!). At $20 for over 700 minutes of viewing, it was a good deal.

Podcast Picks

2008-02-02T19:33:00.000-08:00

Podcasting. It is the radio of tomorrow. Or it is the radio of yesterday... today. Or it is just a goofy ass word to denote easily downloadable audio files. In any event, podcasts appear to be here for the duration. Using iTunes, I subscribe to several podcasts from a wide range of people who discuss a wide range of topics for the simple reason that I have a wide range of interests (and a profound dislike for commercials). Here is a sample of what I listen to... if you are interested, you can search for the exact titles in the iTunes store or (for the one of you who refuses to accept iTunes as a convenient means of organizing music) you can search online for direct links via websites:

"Best of Chris Moyles Enhanced" (BBC) - The Chris Moyles Show is apparently the number one morning show in England, and the one hour podcast is a one hour compilation of the week's highlights (and a few original podcast features and episodes, too). Moyles and his team of regulars remind me of the glory days of Rick Dees In The Morning, but with British accents. Frat humor (or humour) and the latest gossip on UK reality stars and random celebrity interviews. The "enhanced" part of the podcast is minimal... usually a few images of the morning show or random clip art of whatever topic they're collectively going on about.

"Beyond Belief" (BBC) - Faith based issues are discussed in this half hour weekly show, and they cover all aspects of faith (including the lack of it).

"Bill Moyers Journal | PBS" (PBS) - This podcast is the full length audio of the companion TV series featuring serious in depth reporting and probing interviews. I cannot offer enough praise when it comes to the work of Bill Moyers.

"Charles Grodin" (WCBS) - One to two minute daily commentaries about both serious and humorous subjects by the guy who tried to replace Tom Snyder on CNBC and failed with gusto.

"Face the Nation" (CBS) - CBS provides both the video and audio only podcasts for the weekly Sunday morning political roundtable hosted by Bob Schieffer. Easily the best of the Sunday morning chat shows, and since I'm usually not awake when they air, this is a great podcast to have at my disposal.

"Friday Night Comedy from BBC Radio 4" (BBC) - Because British radio programs (or programmes) have seasons, the BBC combined two shows into one weekly podcast. "The Now Show" is topical political humor and satire featuring songs by Mitch Benn and rants by John Holmes. "The News Quiz" features a panel of comedians answering questions and telling jokes about the news of the week.

"In Our Time with Melvyn Bragg" (BBC) - Admittedly, a lot of these shows go so far over my head they are likely to crash into the International Space Station, but I still regularly try to listen to this podcast. Each installment is an hour long discussion about intensely complicated topics including advanced mathematics, nuclear physics, ancient civilizations, and philosophy.

"iTunes: Meet the Author" (Apple) - A semi-regular series featuring lectures and readings given by various authors who appear in Apple stores across the country (though mostly in New York). These are typically non-computer related authors like Stephen Colbert, Alan Alda, and the writers of The Onion.

"Jonathon Brandmeier Podcast" (WLUP) - I first heard Johnny B. on LA's KLSX back at the start of the millennium. He is now based in Chicago. He's got a great on-air persona... very listenable. Though he is known for comedy, the podcasts done following the death of his father were very moving.

"KCRW's Le Show (Harry Shearer)" (KCRW/NPR) - This is Harry Shearer's one hour comedy, commentary, and sketch show featured on National Public Radio. True fans of the series would want me to note that, for rights reasons, the music he plays (typically two or three songs per week) are omitted from the podcasts. Other than that, all the regular features are there.

"NPR: Satire from the Unger Report" (NPR) - Brian Unger was an early correspondent for The Daily Show. He now provides semi-regular social and political satire for National Public Radio... typically in 3 to 4 minute bursts.

"NPR: Wait Wait... Don't Tell Me!" (NPR) - Much like the BBC's News Quiz, this show features a panel answering questions and poking fun at current events. Listener involvement is big on the show, and a regular feature entitled "Not My Job" spotlights celebrities quizzed about subjects they know nothing about.

"Real Time with Bill Maher" (HBO) - This podcast features the full length audio of the HBO series (typically available for download one to three days of the live show on Friday nights), as well as an additional podcast segment called "Real Time Overtime."

"SModcast: Quick Stop Entertainment" (Kevin Smith) - Filmmaker Kevin Smith as his longtime co producer Scott Mosier host week hours full of filthy words and fart jokes. Occasionally, issues are discussed, but it is mostly just two good friends discussing sex, television, movies, and New Jersey.

"Star Trek: Lost Frontier" (Dark Projects) - Poorly produced but decently written fan fiction set apx. 50 years after the Next Generation, Voyager, and Deep Space Nine era. The Federation of Planets had been nearly wiped out by a mysterious plague, and an entirely new Enterprise crew has to restore order. Typically one episode per month, but the premise isn't bad.

"Townhall.com - Dennis Prager" (Townhall) - Dennis Prager is politically conservative but I still find his show with listening to. He is intelligent, funny, and offers great insight on issues of ethics and morality. Two regular segments are "The Happiness Hour" and "The Ultimate Issues Hour." If you listen to no other parts of his show, listen to those two segments each week.

Game on... again

2008-01-14T21:02:00.000-08:00

The official and final version of my 2007 DIET

HERE ARE THE REVISED RULES:

FIRST, if it can be considered snack food or junk food, it’s off the list... period. No donuts, no chocolate, no potato chips, and nothing from any vending machines. No cake, no rolls, no cookies, and nothing that features any sort of cartoon character in its advertisements.

SECOND, my beverage options are limited to milk (2%), water, and Guinness (socially and in moderation) (I am going to go through Vitamin Water withdrawal). No sodas, no fruit juices filled with sugar, and no diet drinks filled with aspertame (otherwise I might as well drink battery acid).

THIRD, no red meat... the solitary exception being homemade tamales made by my brother’s wife. Neither hamburgers nor steak will pass through my lips. Seafood, chicken and pork will be my meatly friends (meatly still isn’t a real word, though hope springs eternal).

FOURTH, no “high fructose corn syrup,” no artificial preservatives (except for all the garbage they add to milk to make it taste so darned good), organic whenever financially possible, and no white bread of any kind. Nothing found in the frozen food section is on the “good” list, and aside from ice I will not freeze any food or drink. Tomato sauce, catsup, and pizza are all off the list.

FIFTH, no eating larger portions. If I’m eating chicken... it’s a single piece of chicken. If I’m eating apple slices... it’s from a single apple. Food in restaurants will be limited to sandwiches (on wheat bread) or soups.

SIXTH, there will be exceptions. At Disneyland, I will be allowed either one churro, one fritter, or one baked good per visit (but no Jelly Bellies, as it leads to one). Only one burrito from Miguel’s or one corned beef sandwich from The Hat per month. If I lose half of my target weight by June, I'll reward myself with ice cream at Mr. Frosty's. Lastly, if by some chance I end up making a trip to Hawaii... game play is postponed for the duration.

SEVENTH, something I didn't describe the first time I executed this diet is the quantity and type of exercise that goes hand-in-hand with any respectable diet. Exercise will occur at least five days per week. I plan to ease off one day during the week and one day during the weekend, but the other weekend day will be an increased amount of exercise (normally a lengthy coastal bike ride of some sort). Weekday exercise will consist of at least one of the following: 15 minutes of steady jogging on the hamster wheel (a.k.a. the treadmill), 25 minutes of solid walking, or 40 minutes on a bike or exer-cycle. I will also swim periodically, and the amount of exercise is expected to increase as the weeks and months progress.

Weigh-ins will be conducted every Tuesday. My goal is to drop 50 pounds before Christmas, 25 pounds by the end of June. As I recall there will be a slow decrease at first, followed by a rapid decrease, followed by a temporary and frustrating plateau. The plateau was my undoing the first time around... the lack of progress frustrated me. This time I'll need to push harder when that happens.

NOW, LET'S PLAY OUR GAME

Statistically speaking, big brother is watching you...

2008-01-12T22:16:00.000-08:00

Well, if you're reading this on my blog, I am watching you in the form of Google Analytics. I may not know your name, but I know where you live, how you were directed to my site, and how long you stick around to read whatever silliness I post.

I guess that means I'll have to post more silliness here... just to learn more about you.

Sleep tight.

Today's "Shoe"

2008-01-11T21:46:00.001-08:00

A funny mistake in the KLOS online newsletter...

2007-11-26T19:13:00.000-08:00

Reread this until you spot the error:

On December 13 Mark and Brian will host a $10,000 Shopping Spree to help local non-prophets get supplies for those in need this holiday season.

Conferences at a glance...

2007-11-19T13:39:00.000-08:00

It begins with a long drive. The long drive segues into a long time looking for a parking space. Once a parking space is found, it is a long walk to the hotel lobby. After the walk, it is a long wait in line to check in.

Welcome to a conference.

The specific conference I am attending is the annual Lutheran Educator's Conference in Palm Desert, CA (adjacent to Palm Springs), but conference attendance is the same no matter the specific focus. I've attended conferences related to journalism, broadcasting, computer technology, and many, many more... so many they all seem to blur together... like a cataract formed on the side of my one good eye that blots out anything happy and positive. Which is not to say conference organizers don't attempt structured happiness.

Structured happiness usually comes in the form of a motivational speech (sometimes called a "keynote address") offered (for a fee) by a forward thinker with grand ideas about life in general, and your chosen profession in particular. Here's a note to all motivational speakers everywhere: I am glad your cancer is in remission, or you got over the death of your son/wife/parents/dog Sparky, or that you were not killed in the car/airplane/monorail accident, and it is great you walked away with some inspirational life lessons. But I'm the sort of guy who draws inspiration from my own life and the lives of those I care about (and the beautiful women I encounter, but that's another story). Your life story is, I suppose, interesting to some... but it doesn't apply.

No conference would be complete without seminars and workshops, though just once I'd like to test that theory. Experts in their field share everything that makes themselves (or their ideas) great. Those in attendance blindly nod approvingly, clearly having consumed the Kool-Aid. Presenters, pathetically attempting to remain relevant or at least not antiquated, toss together a wretched PowerPoint presentation. A one page handout outlining the two or three important points of the presentation is available at the door, leading me to contemplate the rationale of staying through a 90 minute session when I could simply dash out of the room with the outline.

There is also a space for vendors to exhibit the tools or resources of the trade. Their promotional tools consist of saying hello to everyone that passes within a half-mile radius of their booth, and either a PowerPoint presentation or posterboard that could have been created by any 8th grade student. Some might also offer giveaway items such as pens, stress relieving squeezy toys (I confess I cannot resist those regardless of the products they endorse), and free samples. Vendors at really big conferences offer free liquor... horrible marketing strategy, but their booths do see a lot of foot traffic.

Then comes the big banquet, a fine meal where the portions are too small, the liquor not free-flowing enough, and the conversation stilted. Speeches are usually given by various peers, mainly winners of awards along the lines of "descriptive-noun of the year," substituting the conference's focus for the descriptive noun. These titans of industry thank their immediate co-workers, at which point typically five or six half-gassed colleagues will woot and whistle, generating a smattering of laughter from the handful of people for whom this is their first conference and thus find the incident remarkable. I have noticed these speeches always feature the speaker acting somewhat modest and usually somewhat apprehensive about being on stage. I've never heard a speech where the speaker proudly announced he/she was the best man/woman for the job, and his/her current recognition and accolade was a long time in coming. Inevitably they open with a joke or whimsical anecdote, and inevitably I will not laugh. The dessert is usually a small amount of sugar on an oversized plate.

If you are very lucky at a conference, you will get lucky at a conference. Currently, my hopes rest upon a blond woman staying in the room next door to mine. Perhaps she'll forget her room key and need to use my phone to call the concierge, maybe she'll be lonely and want some company, or perhaps she'll just be stinking drunk. A man can dream, at least until his dreams have evaporated from the heat of the desert... the typical location of conferences.

This year, I have come to the conclusion that Eagle Scouts should be able to earn merit badges for learning to survive at a hotel in the middle of nowhere. The proper supplies are crucial. Last year, all I brought were a few novels and some bottled water. This year, I have a laptop with internet access, a dozen DVDs, my iPod, six bottles of really good beer, three of the big bottles of Vitamin Water, and Pop Tarts (two varieties). Regrettably, I forgot to bring along a bottle opener for the beer, so I don't earn my merit badge this year. Fortunately, there was a Rite-Aid near the hotel where I could make the $4.00 purchase. Another sound investment is a cooler that doesn't look like a cooler... no need for your peers to think you are an alcoholic, or at least someone too cheap to pay $7.00 for beer at the hotel bar. My cooler resembles a tote bag... granted, it is a heavy tote bag, but it was either that or one of those Igloo coolers with the wheels and the long handle... tacky.

The alternative for all of those supplies is to bring along a beautiful woman. I have found that a beautiful woman makes many unbearable things suddenly bearable, even a hotel in the desert. Truthfully, with a beautiful woman, a tent in the desert becomes a viable option. Beautiful women are great, aren't they guys?

A well prepared conference includes a closing ceremony of some kind... or so I'm told. I've never stayed through to the end of any conference I've attended, nor has anyone I've ever met, so I'm operating on third hand information on this point. I'm sure the closing ceremony is a blast, though.

Conferences are intended as events where peers come together to share ideas, commune with each other, and learn new solutions to old problems. The reality is that conferences are money wasting ego stroking coupled with hard sales pitches by people who usually aren't very good at what they do. A whole industry has been created around the art of conference planning, and from what I can tell it is a growth industry. It is also a waste of time and, in my case, a waste of what could otherwise be vacation days.

Unless the blond knocks on my door... then conferences are great!

Jane Seymour to lead Disneyland Candlelight 2007

2007-11-16T18:23:00.000-08:00

For the uninitiated... each year, Disneyland's Main Street USA is transformed into an outdoor house of worship and a 500 member all volunteer choir and orchestra are joined by a celebrity who reads aloud the story of the birth of Jesus Christ. As is the case with Disney's gay days celebrations, this event is not advertised. Should anyone ask, the service is for Disney stockholders and the fact it is held inside the park while open to the public is just a coincidence and is in no way meant to infer Christianity as the supreme religion. Mickey Mouse and his pals do not appear in the performance... it is a religious themed show. The first year I saw it, James Earl Jones read the story (Darth Vader reads from the Bible... freakin' awesome). I've also heard Robert Urich, Dick Van Dyke, and Edward James Olmos. For what it is worth, I've taken agnostics to see the show and they were in awe.

This year, Jane Seymour will tell the story. Candlelight, as it is simply known, will take place the 1st and 2nd of December (weather permitting... Marie Osmond's show was rained out a few years ago... I waited on Main Street for seven hours before giving up and going home). Get there early and claim a good spot of pavement. The park will be crowded. It will be worth it.

For those interested, I have mp3s of last year's show featuring Dick Van Dyke (decent recording, not great but decent). All music is public domain, so there aren't any copyright restrictions. E-mail me if you want 'em.

"As God is my witness, I thought turkeys could fly."

2007-11-16T10:35:00.000-08:00

Past Prologue

2007-11-11T15:14:00.000-08:00

I think about the past a lot. I think a lot, not just about my own past, but about history in general. I am a firm believer of the theory that the past teaches us about both the present and the future. I see nothing unhealthy about thinking about the past. What is unhealthy, however, is dwelling on the past... obsessing over it... allowing the past to consume the present and destroy the future.

The above preamble would be a really cool introduction to a science fiction film about time travel. Alas, it is just another example of me babbling about my life. Part of my pathology is that I know what I need to do but very often fail in even attempting to do it. There is no rationalization for this behavior. It has, without question, adversely effected my life. And yet I continue as I have. It is like smokers... even after being confronted with absolute proof of the dangers of smoking, they continue to do so. It goes beyond simple addiction. Smokers make the very conscious choice to do something stupid and harmful. And so do I.

I have made wrong choices for right reasons. And I have made right choices for wrong reasons. To the best of my recollection, I've never walked out the door planning to act like an idiot, and yet I seem to have no trouble doing so (as evidenced by history). Motives matter, and at 33 years of age I still don't know what motivates me to be me.

Alcoholics define insanity as doing the same thing over and over expecting a different result. I'd like to dismiss my actions as insane (or at least irrational), but some of my routine eccentricities have elicited positive and unforeseen results. In other words, I have seen a different result... lots of different results. At times, when I have almost convinced myself that I'm acting like a moron and need to change my behavior, fate or the universe or God or dumb luck steps in and... presto... something unexpected. It is nothing I can control. I can make drastic, monumental changes to my life with little to no impact. I can carry on my routine and the world seems to change its rotation. It is inexplicable.

All the events of my life, the changes and non-changes, convert to memories... to history. But history isn't merely names and dates. History must be analyzed, and I have never been good at analytical thought. I'm not saying I'm dumb, just not cut out for detective work. Thus, my analysis or interpretation of history is potentially flawed. I may be learning the wrong lessons from the past. I may continue to be making the right choices for the wrong reasons or the wrong choices for the right reasons, or there may be no rightness to the equation at all. History will ultimately decide... or someone's analysis of it.

In the meantime, I sit here convinced that three of the songs on the new album by the Eagles were written with me in mind.* Not that the songs are connected to anything I just wrote, but it is damned peculiar how they managed to really hit the nail on the head.

* in case you're interested, they are cuts 4 and 11 on disc 1 and cut 6 on disc 2

Hallowed

2007-10-31T19:11:00.000-07:00

October 31st, 2000. It was a Halloween like any other. I had spent the day chewing out my boss (because that's the way I roll). I spent the early evening racing a rental van over the hills that separate Hollywood from Burbank. If I hadn't raced, I couldn't have collected my 1996 Geo Tracker without getting caught in the road closures that accompany the annual Hollywood Halloween bash.

I drove home in the unorthodox traffic that transpires during commercially hyped non-holidays. I'd had a long, bad day. I was stuck in traffic. And as I was at the peak of my frustration, my cell phone rang. Actually it vibrated, since I've never liked the sound of things that ring.

The last thing I wanted to do was communicate with fellow human beings... I felt barely human myself. But since the snail on the side of the freeway was keeping up with me, I figured at least I wouldn't cause an accident while answering the phone.

Some might wonder how I can recall such specific details from a day so many years ago. I have trouble remembering the names of my current coworkers. I rarely remember the birthdays of family members. What can I say, except: some things stick with you. The memory of the first girl who told you she loved you. The memory of the first time you held a newborn baby. The memory of the last phone call you would ever have with one of your best friends.

I was rude to him. I didn't know it would be the last time we'd ever speak. About a year earlier he'd joined a community hockey league, and that particular All Hallow's Eve he was inviting me to watch him in one of his games. There are few things in life more boring to me than community hockey. I'd sat through a few of his games; each seemed to go on forever. I'd had a long, bad day. I was in no mood for a long, bad hockey game. I blew him off. A week later he was dead.

Some things stick with you.

It is odd that I cannot remember the last time I saw him. I'm guessing it was TGI Fridays or maybe Red Robin. It could have been at his apartment. It could even have been one of his mindnumbingly boring hockey games. It really is odd that I can't remember that. It is as if, after he died, all the years I'd known him and all the things we'd done were lumped together and stored away in a part of my brain I knew I'd had little use for anymore. And yet that last phone call remains in a more active portion of my mind... try as I might, it is a moment I am not allowing myself to forget.

I was rude to someone who didn't deserve it, and to this day a part of the guilt still lingers. It doesn't preoccupy my every waking thought, but from time to time it does manage to show itself... to poke its head out of its hole and allow me to see its shadow. I choose to believe it is my subconscious' way of reminding me to be a better person... to try to have as few regrets as possible. I suppose the memory of that day... of that phone call, is my mind's way of reminding me that until the death of my friend, I had no idea what a long, bad day truly felt like.

Putting the "die" in diet...

2007-09-24T10:50:00.000-07:00

Today is day one of the diet and exercise program. The gut is officially too big, the chins too numerous, and the weight (while not off the scale) too excessive. This week will be focused more on weight loss than exercise, though the plan is to walk to the beach every day after work. The "food plan" will be basically the same as the one I employed last year... no red meat, no pasta, no candy, no preservatives, no frozen foods, and smaller portions of whatever I eat. I will have a few cheats/rewards which will differ from last year's diet, due mostly to relocating (it isn't like I can easily visit the Hat or Miguel's Jr. anymore, nor is my friend Melissa around to tempt me with home cooked baked goods). One change from last year, and a clear violation of several of my self-imposed rules, is Glaceau Vitamin Water, because I have found no better way of ingesting vitamin B12 short of free-basing the stuff. I am also devising an incentive program where the number of new DVDs and CDs I buy will be related to my weight loss (I'm thinking $3 per pound).

I think I'm in love...

2007-09-18T07:41:00.000-07:00

I've been watching a lot of CNN.com's Live feeds lately, and I confess I am smitten by a news kitten. Nicole Lapin is her name. She is that powerful combination of smart and sexy.

She makes me smile.

I would like to meet her.

Now that is just trippy... and humbling...

2007-09-04T17:38:00.000-07:00

There's nothing particularly special about a woman having heart surgery, but this picture sent chills up my spine. The woman ended up having her heart replaced. In the picture, she is looking at her own heart preserved in a jar.

Being able to gaze upon one's organs... it kind of makes you feel insignificant, doesn't it?

What he is is what he is what he is dead

2007-09-03T18:54:00.000-07:00

One of Edie Brickell's New Bohemians is no longer among the living. Apparently he went to the door of his girlfriend's nextdoor neighbor's house. Then, in reasons not entirely clear, he pounded on the door and the neighbor shot the guy to death.

I'm not aware of too many things, but this seems to be an odd case. I mean, I didn't even know the New Bohemians were still together.

Quote of the week...

2007-08-26T20:34:00.000-07:00

While in Target this afternoon, I heard something that made my day. The lines at the checkout were backed up, so the woman working behind the jewelry counter offered to ring up anyone with "one item or less."

Today's "Non Sequitur"

2007-08-16T16:08:00.001-07:00

The rules for Russian billiards

2007-08-08T20:14:00.001-07:00

A few years ago, a friend of mine passed away. His parents, looking to get rid of all the junk he had accumulated over his too short of a lifetime, gave me a few items. One of the items they gave me was a set of Russian billiard balls. Not owning a pool table of my own, the box containing the balls has been kept taped shut for years.

I saw people play Russian billiards when I was a Peace Corps Volunteer in Central Asia. Sometimes the balls were multi-colored. Other times the balls were red and white. And the rules seemed to be different on every table. Players could seemingly enter or leave the game at any time. There was always a cue ball, but sometimes there was more than one cue ball. And once you finally got around to knocking a ball into a pocket, you had to immediately replace the ball on the table in a specific place depending on the color of the ball. And here's the part of the game that makes me laugh: it has no ending. There is no officially declared winner... merely a moment when players agree to stop playing.

Cut to the present day. The recreation room provided for residents of my apartment complex has a pool table, and I have some free time before I have to report for work. I searched the internet to find a basic set of instructions on how to play Russian billiards, but every set of instructions I found contained some sort of preface or disclaimer stating the rules vary and may not apply anywhere outside of a specific table at a specific bar in a specific city in Russia. So I poured through a few sets of rules to come up with at least a few common variables.
As in life, in Russian billiards ball placement is important (see the above diagram provided for a rough guide of what goes where). One does not place Russian billiard balls into a rack, nor does one ostentatiously break up large groups of balls. Like a standard game of snooker, this is a game of finesse. Balls are only supposed to fall into certain pockets depending on their color, and different balls are worth different points. Once a ball is shot into a pocket, it must be returned to its initial placement on the table before play can resume (this, by the way, is the feature of the game that makes it seemingly endless).

Assuming you have the multicolored set (as I do), the yellow and green balls are each designated a pocket close to where you would position the white cue ball at the start of the game (or after a scratch). The blue ball is placed in the center of the table and can only be shot into the two side pockets. The red ball is placed near the far end of the table and can only be shot into either of the far corner pockets.

The pink ball is tricky, and there are conflicting rules all over the internet about this particular sphere's role in this particular type of billiards. The pink ball is initially placed equidistantly (big SAT word) between the red and blue ball, but unlike the other balls it has no specific point value. The pink ball is like a wild card in poker... it can be anything (including the cue ball), but the player must verbally designate what the pink ball is before he/she shoots, or it is a scratch. Unless specifically designated something else, the pink ball cannot be hit during play or it constitutes a scratch. As an example, if a player chooses to play the pink ball as a blue ball (in theory because it is close to a side pocket), then the actual blue ball takes on the characteristics of the pink ball, meaning the blue ball could not be struck by that given player or it would be a scratch. The pink ball reverts to its natural status after every shot, so if a player continues to use the pink ball as a cue ball without verbalizing his/her intent, it is a scratch.

There is also a black and a brown ball. If one player on the table has more than 100 points (or 100 or more points, depending on which set of rules you follow), the black ball is placed between the starting points of the green and yellow balls. Like the pink ball, players cannot hit it or it is a scratch (unlike the pink ball, the black ball is always the black ball... unless your table's rules dictate otherwise). Should two players on the table have more than 100 points, the brown ball is added to the mix. The brown ball follows the same rules as the black ball. For every player above two with scores greater than 100 points, additional balls can be added. Usually, additional balls are red and follow the same rules as the initial red ball. There is no specific location for the brown and additional red balls... they are to be placed by the player who follows the current player.

Generic points for the colored balls are as follows:

red = 1
blue = 9
yellow = 6
green = 3
pink = wild card

At the risk of being repetitive, the point values may differ from table to table. As for the points, there is way too much variety in terms of the taking away of points to attempt a base standard. It would seem to me that if you accidentally hit a ball into the wrong pocket, the point value of that ball should be deducted from your total. A scratch not involving hitting a ball into the wrong pocket should merely result in the player losing his/her turn. Most of the sets of rules place a high price tag on accidentally knocking a pink, black, or brown ball into a pocket... I've seen deductions ranging from half of a player's total to an entire total.

Players whose points drop below 100 would result in a ball being removed from the table. For example, if a player dropped from 101 points to 98, and he had been the only player with a score higher than 100 points, the black ball would be removed from the table. If two players had scores above 100 and one of them lost enough point to fall below 100, then the brown ball would be removed. And so on.

Everybody got all that? No? Well, come and visit me in San Diego and I'll give you a firsthand demonstration of the rules (as I interpret them). When all is said and done, the game is designed to accommodate any number of people, and the game seems to go more smoothly if players have social levels of alcohol.

And that's a wrap for Hal Fishman

2007-08-08T15:36:00.001-07:00

Hal Fishman, longtime news anchor in Los Angeles, dead at 75.

As far as I'm concerned, KTLA should stop producing local news. With Fishman gone, they'll sink to the same bottom-of-the-barrel level as all the other LA newscasts.

Do click on the link to the LA Times obituary... very well written.

I don't know art, but I know what I like

2007-08-07T14:33:00.000-07:00