MCF's Nexus of Improbability

The Tent

2009-12-08T00:14:00.000-05:00

I didn’t know my friend’s sister very well. Embarrassing truth be told, I kept forgetting he had an older sister. “What do you and your friends talk about?” asks my mom, whenever I admit such ignorance about people I’ve been close with for years. I knew he had a younger brother and sister, but if I ever met his older sister it was once, possibly twice, at our college graduation, and later at his mother’s wake.

I didn’t know she was technically his half-sister, since his father had her with his first wife, who also passed away. It doesn’t seem right that a man should outlive two wives and a daughter. Various family members got up at her memorial service this past Saturday to remember her, and the theme was common. It didn’t matter if she was a cousin or a sister-in-law; each and every person considered her their sister. At the end of the service, the reverend remarked that, though he’d never had the pleasure of meeting the deceased, he felt like he knew her through her family. I felt the same way.

I didn’t know my friend’s maternal grandmother was still around, or remember that I’d met her before. I began to introduce myself, but she knew me and another of his friends whom he’d known since high school. “I remember when you were just kids!” said a woman with remarkable energy and vitality for her age. “We’re still kids!” joked the other guy.

I didn’t know there could be singing or clapping at a funeral service. I’m used to more somber Catholic wakes, with quiet prayers and people whispering in a dimly lit room. This gospel service had a singer that encouraged us to clap, and a minister who encouraged us to hug one another and celebrate life. It was still a time of mourning, but also one of joy and love, a room full of people, some strangers, united by the person who was gone.

I didn’t know my friend’s brother was a minister, or such an eloquent speaker. My friend tried to say a few words but got choked up, as did his nephew. His brother spoke frankly and inspirationally. He told us of his sister’s troubled youth, how she left home at an early age and went to live with her aunt and cousins, how she turned her life around. For twenty years, more than half of her life, he only saw her once or twice a year, but spoke to her several times a week. He and others spoke of her love for her husband now of nine years, and her stepdaughter, whom she raised and treated as her own just as cousins and in-laws welcomed her so completely.

I didn’t know she was sick until my friend e-mailed us a few days before her passing, to ask for prayers. As some of my other friends at the service noted, too often since college we reunite under such circumstances. My friend’s brother spoke of why he was so optimistic, why his tears were ones of joy. A few months back, of all the places his job could have sent him on a weekend business trip, they sent him to his sister’s home, and he got to spend a weekend with her and her family on her turf for the first time ever. A few months later, when she knew something was wrong, even before she knew what it was, something drew her back to her family in New York. His sister traveled a lot, but her heart was always at home. My friend’s brother spoke of a tent. What is a tent? It’s some canvas and few sticks that shelter us from the elements, but we’re still outside. She slept in a lot of tents, but they were never home. He then tugged at his jacket, but it was clear he meant more, that the very skin we wear is our tent to shelter us from the elements. He spoke of his sister’s liver wearing out as surely as the canvas of a tent. This world is outside the next one. Heaven is home. And he knew, in his faith as well as the faith she had developed, that she was finally Home. In that he drew more than comfort; he drew joy.

What don’t you know about the people around you? Ask the person next to you the simplest of questions. We’re all out in the elements. Each and every one of us is waiting to go home, whether we realize it or not. Our friends and our family are on the same line, and getting to know them is the best way to pass the time. We might regret not knowing some people before it’s too late. We might appreciate people while they’re still here. Because these tents have more than a few good stories in them...

Phantasmic Links 12.7.09

2009-12-07T00:08:00.000-05:00

This has been a weekend of striking contrasts, of despair and inspiration, rain and sun, darkness and light. At the funeral for a friend's sister, I learned not only of her life, but that his younger brother was a minister and a powerful speaker, made all the more impressive by the fact that he was among those most directly affected by the loss. As one of my friends put it after the service, “Aren't we supposed to be comforting him?” It was an amazing experience on a rainy day, followed by a brighter Sunday of sun, reflection, and organization. I may go into more detail tomorrow, but for now I'll just segue into this week's PHANTASMIC LINKS:

(1) A pivotal Matrix scene is recreated--LEGO® style. I can't believe it's been ten years since that movie came out. Must....stop...aging...exponentially!
Hat Tip: B13.

(2) Editing the cuss words out of movies has led to some pretty creative modified lines over the years...
H.T.: Lyndon.

(3) I fully support this Team Edward.

(4) Find out how a bra could save your life. I think I just got a new pick-up line....

(5) A math test. A kid's Pokémon sketch. A teacher's awesome response.
H.T.: J-No.

(6) It's Hamlet's ”To Be, or Not To Be...” soliloquy...in KLINGON. I know.

(7) Even if you are sans a graphic design background, hopefully you'll still appreciate this pun.

(8) I think you can guess from the title what ”Nuthin' But Mech” contains and, if you're anything like me, be very pleased.

(9) Ever wonder what the Avengers would have looked like in the Victorian era? I love what that artist has assembled!

(10) With just Sixty Seconds to Live, can you solve your own murder?

Have a link to a game, movie, article, or anything else you think might be “phantasmic”? E-mail me and it just might appear in an upcoming PHANTASMIC LINKS!

WWW: Weekend Wrental Wreviews 20

2009-12-06T00:01:00.000-05:00

Let's see what I saw this week for Weekend Wrental Wreviews in my 20th WWW:

1) Street Fighter: The Legend of Chun Li:
I'm not surprised that, once again, someone failed to make a good (live-action) movie based on the Street Fighter game. The anime set the bar too high, and the laughable '90s Van Damme movie proved that if you're too faithful to the cartoonish elements of the game while focusing on the wrong characters, you end up with a mess. It was a fun mess though, while all the fun in this Chun-Li movie is unintentional. I was surprised that the miscast lead Kristen Kreuk was not the weakest link, perhaps because I had low expectations for her. And Michael Clarke Duncan pretty much could just look big and act menacing like he often does, and nail the role of Balrog. I think the advantage this film has over the previous one is that it went for a tighter cast, bringing in only four of the sixteen fighters from the original games. But they only got half of the characters right. Neil McDonough plays his usual villain and adds an accent, and neither physically nor spiritually resembles Bison. Instead of a martial arts terrorist general, he's some corrupt businessman whose lack of morals somehow stems from ripping his infant daughter from his wife's womb in a cave, killing the wife in the bloody process. I can't(and wouldn't) make that up. Apparently the daughter is based on a character from a later game. Taboo of The Black Eyed Peas portrays Vega, a role that basically requires him to vainly hide his face behind a steel mask while attacking his opponent with wrist-mounted claws. I can't say he was terrible, but it is disappointing that his first meeting with Chun-Li lasts about two minutes, and he's not seen again. Hi, major character from the game! Bye, major character from the game! What the cuss? Oddly enough, Chris Klein's bad acting was the most offensive, perhaps because I thought he was a much better actor. Maybe he wasn't acting in American Pie. Here he plays an Interpol agent named Nash(also based on a game character apparently). I couldn't tell what he was doing, but my best guess was his impression of Keanu Reeves doing an impression of David Caruso as Horatio Caine. There couldn't be more fail. The Legend of Chun-Li is a movie I want to like, and at times I do like it. Kreuk has the moves, even if we don't see a lot of them in the (mercifully) short running time. Robin Shou does a good job as her trainer, and seeing the once young star of Mortal Kombat in the role of the elder teacher makes me feel old. Also, his character Gen is another character from the games that I didn't know about. Perhaps someday there will be a proper live action Street Fighter, one that focuses on Ryu, but I doubt it. They should quit while they're behind, and leave the animated movie to stand as the sole testament that there's a decent story inside an old fighting video game.

2) 12 Rounds:
I'm not a wrestling fan, and I didn't know who John Cena was when I saw The Marine. I just knew it was the basic by-the-books fun action movie the likes of which hasn't really been seen since the ‘80s and sporadically through the ‘90s thanks to people like Michael Bay. The bad guy was the bad guy, the good guy was the good guy, and there were a lot of chase scenes and explosions with a few good one-liners thrown in. 12 Rounds works in the same way, casting Cena as a cop whose actions put him on the radar of a bad guy he helps the feds apprehend, actions not without other consequences. A year later, the bad guy escapes and seeks revenge, putting Cena's character through 12 rounds of a much larger plan. Can he defuse a bomb in time? Get out of an elevator before it falls? Rescue his girlfriend? It's nothing we haven't seen before from director Renny Harlin, who directed Die Hard 2, but it works. You can predict what's going to happen at times because you've seen stuff like this before, but it doesn't detract from the entertainment value. Cena is a solid hero figure, looking sort of like a musclebound Mark Wahlberg. Ashley Scott is great eye candy. If you're the type of person who will get stuck on things like “How would they survive a fall from that height?” or think the villain's plan is too elaborate, this isn't the movie for you. Sometimes I like deeply intellectual films with layers of philosophy and clever dialogue. Other times, I just want a good action flick. This is a great film for those other times.

3) Unstrung Heroes:
This bittersweet tale of a young boy who runs off to live with his two eccentric uncles when his mother takes ill has been on my must-see list for years, but somehow I just got to it now. John Turturro is a genius a deeply analytical mind and applies the scientific method to every problem, but things like his wife's(Andie MacDowell) cancer or his children's feelings may be solutions he can find as easily. Michael Richards and Maury Chaykin play his brothers, from whom his son learns about both his Jewish heritage and the importance of being ourselves. The brothers are childlike themselves, living in a squalid apartment with stacks of newspapers going back years and closets and shelves full of lost balls and other junk that Chaykin hordes. Richards is paranoid and delusional, but his underlying faith is what gets through to the boy and helps him(and Turturro) when they need it most. Based on a true story and a book by Franz Lidz, it recounts Lidz' own touching and sad but hopeful childhood. In recounting the story, he gave his life, and the lives of those before him, meaning.

4) Days of Darkness:
In some ways, horrendously bad movies are easier to review than good ones. I could talk about how this low budget zombie movie rips off every Romero plot imaginable, particularly Day of the Dead. I could criticize the wide stereotypical brush it uses to paint a diverse group that includes an overzealous preacher's son, a homosexual father, a porn star/mother, a fat former movie star, The Obligatory Muscular Black Guy Who Loses his Shirt and has to Borrow a Small Pink One from one of The Girls, and the rest. I could express disdain at the “twist” in which the zombie plague is actually caused by dust from a crashed comet that contains single celled organisms that set up shop in the brain once inhaled, take over, and cause male genitalia to graphically fall off so they can grow a new hybrid human/alien sac in its place. Or I could laugh my ass off at the character from a long family of doctors who isn't a doctor himself but figures out everything I wrote in the preceding sentence, and then discovers accidentally that the aliens don't like alcohol so all they have to do is get drunk to cause the infesting creatures to vacate and explode. I probably should just write “It sucked,” then turn off my computer and proceed to destroy that DVD so it will never take another 90 minutes from anyone ever again.

More reviews to follow next week after I've spun a few more discs!

MCF Libs

2009-12-05T00:43:00.000-05:00

What are MCF Libs, you might ask? They're almost identical to Mad Libs, except they're created using excerpts from my own writing! Below I will list three blocks of copy, with various NOUNS, VERBS, ADJECTIVES and other words removed. Replace them with random words of your own, and click each block to compare with the originals:

1):
[ADJECTIVE]
[PLACE]
[PAST TENSE VERB]
[PLURAL NOUN]
[PAST TENSE VERB]
[NOUN]
[VERB]
[NOUN]
[GAME]
[PLACE]
[ADJECTIVE]
[ADJECTIVE]

I know I was wildly [ADJECTIVE] in that [PLACE], and that even my “friends” [PAST TENSE VERB] on me, but I never kept a list of specific [PLURAL NOUN]. Granted, things like the guy who [PAST TENSE VERB] me in the [NOUN] several times or the kids who tried to force [VERB] me [NOUN] are going to stick. But all the other dumb kid stuff like playing [GAME] is just one massive jumble. It made me realize that I don't live in the [PLACE] as much as I think I do, and that may be why I'm more [ADJECTIVE] and [ADJECTIVE] than I technically should be.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

2):
[VERB]
[NOUN]
[RACE, REAL OR FICTITIOUS]
[ADJECTIVE]
[EVENT]
[ADJECTIVE]
[NOUN]
[PLACE]
[BODY PART]
[NOUN]
[NOUN]
[PLURAL NOUN]
[NOUN]
[NOUN]

I just remembered: I saw a child [VERB] a pig on Saturday at that [NOUN] party. My friend told me that it's a [RACE, REAL OR FICTITIOUS] tradition to have a [ADJECTIVE] pig on special occasions, and I do remember one turning on a spit at his daughter's [EVENT] last year. I got some pictures of the [ADJECTIVE] pig, before my friend's brother began instructing one of their younger cousins, who was brandishing a wide [NOUN]. His brother works in a [PLACE], and described in cold, medical detail where to feel for the soft spot on the [BODY PART] that would guarantee a clean [NOUN]. The kid raised the [NOUN], and I turned away as it came down and pig [PLURAL NOUN] soared into the air. A few minutes later I got a great shot of my buddy holding the pig's [NOUN] on a styrofoam [NOUN].

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

3):
[NOUN]
[PLURAL NOUN]
[PLURAL NOUN]
[PLURAL NOUN]
[PLURAL NOUN]
[PLURAL NOUN]
[ADJECTIVE]
[TIME PERIOD]
[NOUN]
[NOUN]
[PLURAL NOUN]
[VERB]

So that's me--extraordinary bad [NOUN], and a passion for all the great [PLURAL NOUN] and [PLURAL NOUN] available, from [PLURAL NOUN] to [PLURAL NOUN] to [PLURAL NOUN]. These posts won't all be as [ADJECTIVE] as this one, and many will be about nothing at all. If there's one thing I took from my [TIME PERIOD] it was that love of [NOUN] and [NOUN], and my high school notebooks margin [PLURAL NOUN] tended to spill over and [VERB] my notes

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

And of course, I'll try the exercise myself:

1):
[ADJECTIVE]: moist
[PLACE]: comic book store
[PAST TENSE VERB]: shredded
[PLURAL NOUN]: bottles
[PAST TENSE VERB]: shot
[NOUN]: box
[VERB]: drink
[NOUN]: shirt
[GAME]: tag
[PLACE]: office
[ADJECTIVE]: cluttered
[ADJECTIVE]: hairy

I know I was wildly MOIST in that COMIC BOOK STORE, and that even my “friends” SHREDDED on me, but I never kept a list of specific BOTTLES. Granted, things like the guy who SHOT me in the BOX several times or the kids who tried to force DRINK me SHIRT are going to stick. But all the other dumb kid stuff like playing TAG is just one massive jumble. It made me realize that I don't live in the OFFICE as much as I think I do, and that may be why I'm more CLUTTERED and HAIRY than I technically should be.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

2):
[VERB]: save
[NOUN]: desk
[RACE, REAL OR FICTITIOUS]: Martian
[ADJECTIVE]: sticky
[EVENT]: inauguration
[ADJECTIVE]: dusty
[NOUN]: mouse
[PLACE]: bathroom
[BODY PART]: spleen
[NOUN]: computer
[NOUN]: basket
[PLURAL NOUN]: staples
[NOUN]: bus
[NOUN]: lake

I just remembered: I saw a child SAVE a pig on Saturday at that DESK party. My friend told me that it's a MARTIAN tradition to have a STICKY pig on special occasions, and I do remember one turning on a spit at his daughter's INAUGURATION last year. I got some pictures of the DUSTY pig, before my friend's brother began instructing one of their younger cousins, who was brandishing a wide MOUSE. His brother works in a BATHROOM, and described in cold, medical detail where to feel for the soft spot on the SPLEEN that would guarantee a clean COMPUTER. The kid raised the BASKET, and I turned away as it came down and pig STAPLES soared into the air. A few minutes later I got a great shot of my buddy holding the pig's BUS on a styrofoam LAKE.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

3):
[NOUN]: camera
[PLURAL NOUN]: kittens
[PLURAL NOUN]: shoes
[PLURAL NOUN]: chairs
[PLURAL NOUN]: socks
[PLURAL NOUN]: speakers
[ADJECTIVE]: itchy
[TIME PERIOD]: depression
[NOUN]: paper
[NOUN]: hat
[PLURAL NOUN]: programs
[VERB]: punch

So that's me--extraordinary bad CAMERA, and a passion for all the great KITTENS and SHOES available, from CHAIRS to SOCKS to SPEAKERS. These posts won't all be as ITCHY as this one, and many will be about nothing at all. If there's one thing I took from my DEPRESSION it was that love of PAPER and HAT, and my high school notebooks margin PROGRAMS tended to spill over and PUNCH my notes

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Hmmmmm......let's see what you come up with....

My Not in this Lifetime Five

2009-12-04T00:30:00.003-05:00

I'm a fairly optimistic guy. “Never” is a word I don't use lightly, because very few things are certain in this life. There are things I haven't done, but it remains to be seen if they're things I haven't done yet or things I never will. At 35, I am aware that the peak years of my life are behind me, that should I refer to myself as an adult I can no longer accurately preface that with the word “young”. I feel like a kid, and I certainly act like a kid, but the wrinkled knuckles and thinning, receding hair on my head tell a very different story. Maybe someday I will make it to Italy, or at the very least to some of the historic sights in our own country West and South of the coast I've clung to. My dad got married at 39 and had his only son five years later; anything is possible. I'm not sure what my future holds. And yet, it's safe to say My Five items listed below will not take place in this lifetime. These certainly aren't the only five things I'll never do, nor are they listed in any particular order:

1) List 100 things I'll never do in order of mathematical certainty:
I might as well get this one out of the way first. I'm sure I could think of 100, but I'd go insane trying to sort them. One thing I will do is link back to this post if I end up disproving this in a few months.

2) Go skydiving or bungee jumping:
I'm not a big fan of heights, despite my fourth grade foray on to a second story ledge or the countless trees I climbed in my childhood after falling off a stump at the age of five and ripping my face open on a shard of glass leaving a permanent scar. I've flown only twice, and though everything went fine except for a little turbulence and my mistakenly thinking a wing was falling apart when a flap moved, I haven't been back on a plane since college. Back when a friend was living in Europe he invited me to visit, but it was less than a year after 911 so I was really not inclined to take my chances. I've always dreamed of a honeymoon in Italy, particularly Venice, so someday I might take a chance and get on a plane again. The risk is considerably less than intentionally jumping from a great height. Cord or no cord, parachute or no parachute, it's just an invitation for disaster, especially for someone with my trademark bad luck.

3) Travel to the moon:
From the Earth to the Moon fascinated me. I was in awe of everything, and while the changing styles and tonal shifts from episode to episode kept each one a fresh and unique mini-movie, the overarching sense of science fact was continuous and inspiring. Every time I heard JFK's “We choose to go to the moon!” speech I was inspired. He didn't live to see it, but we did it. It was real. It was a huge undertaking, expensive, and not without human sacrifice, but the seemingly impossible was accomplished. I knew some of the story, while a lot was new to me, including the fact that it all began and ended before I was even born. Only 12 men have walked on the moon, and no one has been back there since 1972. It's something that shouldn't be possible, from generating enough force to propel a craft out of Earth's atmosphere to having suits protect men in a vacuum. I've gone through phases in which just driving a half hour to my job was a challenge. I'd love to walk on the moon, but the suits would be even more claustrophobic than the spacecraft. It'd be nice to be famous too. I'd love to be famous for something someday, though nothing major. Just get my name into recorded history and let me fade back into a quiet life. I don't know if I ever will achieve a few minutes of fame, but I'm pretty sure I won't get to the moon. I'm satisfied when I at least get decent photos of it.

4) Intentionally take the life of another human being:
One good thing about getting old is that I'll never get drafted now(he typed, instantly jinxing himself). I don't have it in me to kill under any circumstances, and for the most part that's a good thing, especially in civilized society. An old classmate from my middle school recently reconnected with me online. His name was familiar although I had to consult a yearbook to confirm who he was. In our correspondence as we caught up on the past 20+ years, he apologized for giving me a hard time in Mr. So&So's music class. I had no idea what he was talking about. I know I was wildly unpopular in that school, and that even my “friends” picked on me, but I never kept a list of specific offenders. Granted, things like the guy who punched me in the stomach several times or the kids who tried to force feed me poison berries are going to stick. But all the other dumb kid stuff like playing keepaway is just one massive jumble. It made me realize that I don't live in the past as much as I think I do, and that may be why I'm more functional and well-adjusted than I technically should be. I wonder if other people remember picking on me, and if they feel bad about it. I don't fully remember this kid, and have vague memories of him and another kid laughing at my drawings, so maybe that's what he was referring to. I took it as a sincere apology, and not “I hope we didn't make you into a serial killer”.

5) Hook up with Denise Richards:
Again, like the moon, I want to go to there. Sure, she's a little older, and has kids, but she's still gorgeous, and after listening to an interview she had with Howard Stern earlier this year, I was even more impressed with her candid, down-to-Earth demeanor. She was honest and held nothing back, yet in her delivery she came across kind of classy, because nothing she talked about was a big deal. But we don't travel in the same circles, or live in the same area, or have remotely comparable salaries. I can't see any situation in which our paths would cross and she'd think a nice but nerdy blogger would be a good follow-up to Sheen, Stamos, or Sambora. I have no delusions that I have a shot just because one of her earliest roles was as a love interest for Jimmy Olsen on an episode of Lois & Clark and I'm a geek with a camera too. I'll never star with her and Neve Campbell in a remake of Wild Things. And I'm not just writing stuff now because I think I'll create some kind of positive jinx and twist probability so the opposite comes true. I'm not.

Honest.

And now...I wait....

Wish I Understood...

2009-12-03T00:00:00.000-05:00

...why bad things happen to good people? I know that's a cliché statement, but I can't think of any other way to sum things up. For me personally, I can usually see how I've brought things on myself, but every day I hear of things happening to people who deserve better. I guess in the grand scheme of things, good things also happen to good people and bad things happen to bad people, and there is no rhyme or reason that we can see. This weekend I'll be attending a funeral service for the older sister of one of my good college buddies. About 10 years ago, his mom passed away, and at the age of 83, his father has now outlived both his wife and his oldest daughter. My friend's faith is strong and he seems to have a good attitude about the whole thing, missing her while accepting that she's with God now and not in pain. In addition to three siblings and a father she leaves behind a husband, and I'm not sure but possibly children as well. I don't think this was something that was expected but I don't have the full story yet. It sounds like she got meningitis while visiting, got hospitalized for about a week and then suffered liver failure. I'm guessing she was roughly in her late 30s or early 40s based on my buddy's age. That's too young, and somehow these things are always worse when they're unexpected. I remember when my mom lost her cousin, who was more like a kid sister to her. The woman went from having a broken leg in a cast to getting some kind of blood clot to some kind of instant diabetes that put her in a coma, and she was gone within three days. My mom actually questioned God for a while after that, was angry and couldn't understand how He could let something like that happen. It's hard, and I have to admire my friend and his brother for viewing this as “see you later” more than “goodbye”. I know not everyone believes that, but even if those of us that do turn out to be wrong, it has to make the situation easier to process. If the atheists are right, we'll no longer have any form of consciousness to know that we were wrong, at which point it won't matter. Still, it's only human for us to want more time with the people and places we love in this world.

...why people still equate animation with children. It's an artistic medium, the same as illustration, painting, sculpture, music, or any other creative endeavor, and as such can convey subject matter for any age. As I mentioned, there were a lot of parents with small children at the matinee for Fantastic Mr. Fox. There is a difference between a G movie and a PG movie, but I suppose on a Sunday morning with antsy kids, there weren't any other options playing. It's not as bad as the time a woman's crying baby disrupted my viewing of Saw III. What was she thinking? Could she not get a sitter? Did someone graffiti the word “See” before the title on the movie poster outside? I don't get it. Meanwhile, in a world in which 3/4 of FOX Animation Domination is ruled by the envelope-pushing Seth MacFarlane and films like Fritz the Cat and Heavy Metal are 30-40 years old, I'm thinking a little more research wouldn't hurt. With the internet, a parent has all the information he or she needs. A review here or a message board post there would clarify whether or not an animated feature was child-friendly. It's even possible to find trailers or clips to preview ahead of time.

...why some people think vomit is funny. I never understood the appeal of the pie-eating contest scene in Stand by Me and I don't like the vomit jokes in the aforementioned Mr. MacFarlane's work. I won't link to the video, but he already did one scene to death in Family Guy in which everyone in the room starts puking. It's so gross and lowbrow compared to the more sophisticated pop culture references, both nostalgic and obscure. The Cleveland Show tends to have a surprise edge to it, and I'm shocked and impressed by some of the things they've gotten away with on there. They manage to allude or imply certain things without blatantly showing it, and I think you'd be hard pressed to explain to a small child why you were laughing so hard at certain gags. It's probably best to not have a small child in the room though. Still, even on that show he threw in some throwing up, first during a dinner scene in which the main character blows chunks upon hearing his father just did some nasty things with a Madea-inspired transvestite, and later on the porch when he breaks the news to the old man, causing him to now cover the windows, deck, walls...etc. MacFarlane has this technique of repetition that's hit or miss. Certain things become funnier the more he does them. Other things shouldn't even be shown once. I just don't like it. I actually subtracted a star from the not-great-to-begin-with film Duplex because one character throws up on another's face. Why? What writers sit in a room and decide that this is their best joke for a given scene? In my book, there's a clear distinction between shocking and disgusting.

...why people put work before their own health. And that makes me a hypocrite, because I don't take sick days. The last time I missed work for my health was back in 2000, when I was literally bleeding to death. And even then I waited a week to go to a doctor, putting up with sharp pains, weakness, and dizzy spells because I didn't want to miss meetings. The experience did teach me that my health is a priority over doing work for a company. You never know how long a job will last, and though I made it another 7 years before losing that one, I still don't think it was remotely worth almost dying for. As far as colds go, coming in to work increases the risk of infecting others, so going in is probably inconsiderate of others. I would need to have a fever or be in really bad shape to stay home though; minor stuff like a cough, sneeze, or sore throat don't deter me. But on Wednesday, I overheard a fairly extreme example outside my office, as someone was talking about how he hadn't slept in days and was really sick. My ears perked up when I tuned in to him saying something about a doctor calling him about having highly infectious pneumonia with a 67% mortality rate, but by the tail end of the conversation I realized he was describing a hypothetical situation in which he played a practical joke and had a doctor call his office mate with that information. Even if they guy wasn't dying, he still sounded pretty sick, and protested to everyone who told him to leave that he had too much work to do. I'd heard that before, nine years ago out of my own mouth. And with H1N1 concerns, the office has not only installed stations with anti-bacterial soap dispensers, but a slew of absurdly detailed posters on the proper way to wash ones hands. I always do, but if I followed that sign to the letter I'd be ready for surgery. So, with all this awareness about not spreading germs, the sick guy took things to the next level. I swear I thought he was losing a lung when he had a massive coughing fit, and by this point he was no longer in the hall outside my office, but a few hallways away. It was LOUD. And, in an unfortunate segue back to my previous rant, he was apparently vomiting. I heard someone come to one of the offices in my aisle and complain that this guy did it right outside his office. Later I'd hear the same account from someone else, that he'd grabbed a waste basket and just lost it. I feel bad for the cleaning staff. Should you go to work if you're sick? Probably not. Should you go to work if you're THAT sick? Hell no. I hope the guy's okay and feels better, but on a more selfish note, I hope neither I nor anyone else catch anything. There are many things in this life I wish I understood, but some I never will. And right now, I should probably just drink some orange juice and take a ton of vitamins. Perhaps some surgical handwashing is in order.

PBW: O Holy Ground

2009-12-02T00:00:00.004-05:00

Churches and the grounds around them often offer some of the most beautiful architecture and sculptures, as evidenced in my latest Photo Blog Wednesday offerings:

How I Wasted My Autumn Staycation

2009-12-01T00:00:00.001-05:00

Every year, my Thanksgiving weekend is my longest weekend, four days off from work that I extend by taking an extra day or two of my own. It's funny reading some of my goals from last year, since I only got around to a few of them this weekend. Better eventually than never is what I always say. Last year in addition to playing a holiday parade with one of my bands, I made it to a happy hour with some of my old neighborhood friends I'd recently reconnected with, and I started the whole weekend with another happy hour with one of my work friends, who I assisted in drunk-dialing Rey with some random Star Trek question about “Dharma and Greg on Viagra”. The actual quote was in some alien language, but I think my version is sort of close to what he was asking. This year, things were a lot quieter, and I'd be hard pressed to top that story. At one point there was the possibility of a road trip to Atlantic City, but it got pushed back when the friend planning it had other plans. I've never been there, and the trip might be on for one of these subsequent weekends. As for this past weekend, it may have been quiet, but it went fast. Some days I passed the time better than others:

Day ONE:
I couldn't tell you what I did on my first day off. I know I watched some episodes from my From the Earth to the Moon boxed set, and spent some time on the computer, experimenting with some photo manipulation technique tutorials. For the most part it was a gray, dreary day, certainly not a good one for photography. I know I woke up way too early because I forgot to tell my dad I'd taken the day off, or I had told him but he didn't hear me. One of my college friends had wanted to see Ninja Assassin, but I'd never heard back from him. (A few days later I'd learn that the sister of one of the other guys who was supposed to go had been in the hospital and had passed away, so it was more than understandable). At some point on that first day I drifted off into a nap, waking in darkness hours later. I had a text message from another friend from my old job about the same movie my college friends wanted to see, but at the time I thought I already had plans and I woke up 20 minutes before the movie was going to begin. I ate dinner, watched a few more DVDs, wrote about my latest blood donating experience, and drifted off, wondering how a day could just evaporate.

Day TWO:
The second day off from work was a Thursday, and Thanksgiving itself, which I already wrote about in detail, at the end of the second day. It too was a quiet day, but a brighter one with sunshine, home cooking, and family. Even the depressing atmosphere of the nursing home left me with a positive message: I was still FREE to venture out and have adventures any time I wanted.

Day THREE:
Of course, Black Friday is one day I wouldn't go out, at least not near any stores. It was another dreary day not conducive to taking pictures or hanging out in the outdoors, so apart from a trip to the post office I stayed inside. By this point I was bouncing off the walls from boredom. I still had the boxed set to finish, and posts to write, and some cleaning and organizing to do in my room. But I was sick of it all, and at one point I even started playing Marvel Ultimate Alliance again. It's a great game, but I beat it years ago(twice) and already unlocked most of the bonus features. I also didn't like the way it swallowed time. As much fun as it was, hours would irretrievably disappear the way they do when I take a nap. Midnight came and went, and the sitcom post I'd written earlier in the day automatically published. Eventually, I turned off the game, went to sleep, and vowed to do something on Saturday. My vacation was halfway over, and I hadn't done much of anything.

Day FOUR:
By the fourth day I got things right. I got to McDonald's early and ordered myself a deluxe breakfast platter of pancakes, sausage, eggs, a biscuit, a potato cake, and an orange juice. Once a year that's a treat. Twice, it's an artery-hardener. After watching another DVD and checking out some maps, I grabbed my camera and took advantage of my first sunny, free day to track down some unexplored trails. My first destination would have required me to leave my car on the shoulder of a busy road and walk to the woods. Plan B led me to a dead end, private road, and clearly the internet misled me when it said there was a parking lot and a nature preserve there. Oh, there were still some undeveloped woods, but they were surrounded by estates on land that had since been developed. I was more successful on my third try, returning to a historical site I'd been to twice before, once as a child on an elementary school trip and once with my first digital camera. This time I had better lighting and better equipment, and in a few weeks I'll be posting my pictures. I ran into a lady from work who pointed out part of the site required tour tickets to be purchased, but they were sold out by the time I checked. So, I've still got something to shoot if I ever return there. In the evening, I took my mom to church, and was surprised as always to see the first candle lit in the Advent wreath. One holiday really does begin on the heels of another. My evening concluded with reviews of 3 of the DVDs I'd watched and more Ultimate Alliance, where I finally unlocked a U.S. Agent skin.

Day FIVE:
By Sunday morning, I realized the Ninja movie probably wasn't happening, and I should have gone when I had the other opportunity. I checked to see if it was playing at my local theater, and though it was not, Fantastic Mr. Fox was. Hardly anyone goes to that theater any more, so I figured the risk of small children was minimal. Besides, though animated, I doubt any parent would mistake a Wes Anderson movie for a kid's film. Oh, it was kid friendly, with any curse words substituted hilariously with the word “cuss”, but it had all the dry and subtle humor and philosophy of any of Anderson's live films. And of course, parents see anthropomorphic creatures and erroneously assume their toddlers won't be bored. There were only two or three families there besides me, but the youngest kids were definitely part of the G crowd, not PG. “What's dat? What's dat mommy? What's dat?” one little girl kept repeating. Her brother kept saying he wanted to go home. I tried to focus on the witty dialogue and amazing stop animation, how perfectly the expressions fit George Clooney' sly talking or Jason Schwartzman's monotone exasperation. It was outstanding. There were a few deaths in the film, with the more violent ones off screen, but I wonder if the bodies shown afterwards were too much for the 4- or 5-year-olds. The real “terror” came when the little boy in the noisy family stood on his seat, and was “swallowed” by it. He was screaming as the mother tried to pull him out, but he'd gotten wedged between the seat and the back. Another couple helped when the woman looked pleadingly and said, “I don't know what to do!” The father of the older, better behaved child two rows up lifted the little boy out of his predicament pretty easily, and in all the ruckus I missed a crucial scene in which the main character suffers a life-changing injury. I'd say that was my only complaint, but prior to the film I ordered nachos and cheese, expecting them to be heated. The kid behind the counter took one of those plastic trays and dropped a sealed bag of chips in one section, and a sealed plastic pudding-cup like container in the other. “Thanksyouenjoytheshow” he muttered after taking my four bucks, as I stood staring at the incomplete display. The container said “do not microwave” so I guess the cheese was meant to be served cold, but it was still a gross and pasty goo. I won't be getting nachos in that theater again. In the evening, I made it down to the docks in time for a gorgeous sunset, and my material for future photo posts grew even further. I'd return home to finally finish watching the last disc of From the Earth to the Moon and watch my FOX Animation Domination shows before compiling my Phantasmic Links and playing (you guessed it) more Ultimate Alliance.

Day SIX:
Monday for the rest of the world was a Sunday for me, although my dad was once again oblivious to that fact as he flipped on my light at 7 AM. After explaining I had taken another vacation day, he asked if I could clean the gutters. “I didn't mean right now!” he shouted as I began to shuffle downstairs to get the ladder. I went back to bed for two more hours then got the ladder out and pulled out all the leaves. I had some shopping to do near my old job, and was going to see if any of my old friends wanted to meet for lunch, but I got sidetracked when I was unable to locate a Best Buy gift card I'd gotten for my birthday. I could swear it was glued to the inside of a greeting card, draped over a string in the doorway to the kitchen, but it wasn't there. Had I taken it out already? It wasn't in my wallet. Did I lose it? Did I throw it away with the envelope? I searched everywhere, and my mom even started looking under the appliances with a flashlight. I remembered the night I got the card I was wearing a dress jacket, and a search of those pockets revealed only some napkins and four packets of ketchup. If I was drunk enough to pocket and subsequently forget the presence of condiments, then that gift card could be anywhere. I was in despair, and hated that I couldn't remember anything past hanging up the card. My mom calmly helped me retrace my steps, and we realized that the refrigerator door, if open, would be directly beneath those cards. I checked the shelves, and then my mom asked me what color the card was and told me to close the door. I did, and she reached down amid the dozens of magnets and pulled something out that was stuck behind a photo of my friend's kids. “Is this it?” It was, and I was back on track. Going shopping after lunch proved to be a good thing, since the crowds subsided as people returned to work. I got a new, larger memory card for my camera, and then headed to a nearby mall to revisit a food court I hadn't dined at in years. Two major counters were disturbingly vacant, but one old favorite, Charley's Steakery, remained, so I loaded up on steak and cheese and bacon and fries and melted cheese and bacon bits and it was GOOD. Granted, it probably wasn't good for me, and since I've been away from the gym for a week, my run on Tuesday evening is going to be both challenging and necessary. After lunch, I hit Target and probably found it the least crowded I will for a month. I got a card and the first gift for my folks, and browsed the toy aisles for my cousin's kids. I couldn't remember their ages though, and my home phone was busy so I couldn't reach my mom to ask. I called it a day, and returned home to sum up my long weekend(see above) and unwind with a new Heroes.

And maybe play more Ultimate Alliance.

Oh, I'm wasting my life...

Phantasmic Links 11.30.09

2009-11-30T00:09:00.000-05:00

I'm glad my long weekend is almost over, but not over yet. I'll be fully recharged and ready to work for another year after just one more day off. And no matter where I am or what I'm doing, I'll always start the calendar week off with an assortment of fantastic PHANTASMIC LINKS:

(1) Have you seen Smallville's version of the Justice Society? I'm not sure how I feel about those costumes just yet. They might be too faithful, and what looks good on the page looks like something from a comic book convention in real life. I'm still excited about the episode though, and they may look better in motion with different lighting.

(2) Every new Star Wars® Gangsta Rap is better than the last!
Hat Tip: J-No.

(3) These step-by-step photos detail the creation of a “Big Daddy” armored suit based on the video game Bioshock.

(4) In 1969, Chairman Mao had a second city constructed beneath Beijing in the event of a nuclear attack. It was never used, but you can see now how it looks today.

(5) Harrison Lake is home to some of the most amazing sand sculptures I've ever seen. When I was a kid, I was lucky if I got sand to hold the shape of a plastic bucket.

(6) This dude creates a 3D replica of Howl's Moving Castle....with PAPER.

(7) The Universal Record Database is a place where people can record all those records no one considered, or ever would...

(8) Marvel characters take on this year's Thanksgiving parade in the very special “99 Hulk Balloons”.

(9) This baby dances better than I walk. Okay, maybe having a baby on the edge of your kitchen table isn't the best thing to do, but still, that kid got MOVES.
H.T.: B13.

(10) Level up, armor up, and gear up to protect villages from hordes of invading demons in Shadowreign.

Have a link to a game, movie, article, or anything else you think might be “phantasmic”? E-mail me and it just might appear in an upcoming PHANTASMIC LINKS!

WWW: Weekend Wrental Wreviews 19

2009-11-29T00:00:00.000-05:00

Let's see what I saw this week for Weekend Wrental Wreviews in my 19th WWW:

1) Higher Learning:
Using a college campus as a microcosmic representation of America, John Singleton crafts a tragic tale of race, perception, and the unending cycle of violence. At key points, we see how some characters could almost have become friends, but mistakes and old ideas lead to a wider divide and an escalation of hatred. I've never seen this kind of performance from Michael Rapaport. He generally plays a doofus, even when he's injecting other elements into his roles, be they malicious or sympathetic. Here, a flannel-wearing hard rock listening kid trying to fit in and prove himself makes one wrong choice after another. You see why he makes the decisions he makes, and what pushes him down into the hole where he eventually ends up. He is at once a villain and a victim, and one of three key characters in the movie. Kristy Swanson plays the naive white girl afraid of the wrong things. She clutches her purse tightly in an elevator when she sees someone with darker skin, but walks the campus at night alone and gets drunk with the wrong frat guy. She learns, at a price, when to be vigilant and who to choose as her friends, things that cannot be recognized solely on the basis of race. Finally, Omar Epps is a promising young athletic superstar with an attitude. Under the tutelage of a professor played by Laurence Fishburne, he slowly learns to check his ego and work with a team. But pride is a powerful force, and he needs to experience great loss before he can fully appreciate what he has. The guy you overlook today could be your worst enemy tomorrow. The film has its share of hyperbole, and didn't represent my own college experience with diverse friends, but I recognize it as a metaphor for a larger picture as well as the way things might have been on other campuses, or even sections of my own outside my microcosm. I think things are better today; I hope they are. Singleton's final message of “UNLEARN” seems to urge one generation to forget the prejudices of a previous one, but perhaps there's a subtle difference since, to me, forgetting runs the risk of repeating past mistakes. If anything, the lesson should be to REMEMBER and LEARN.

2) Dead Presidents:
I remember the trailers for this movie when I was in college. My friend's sister even dressed up like one of the characters for Halloween. I always thought it was a heist movie, in which the characters wore white face paint with black hats to rob a bank. So when I finally did see it, I was surprised, not unpleasantly, to find that it was so much more. The heist is just one act near the end of a coming-of-age story of disillusionment in the Vietnam era. The youthful dreams of Larenz Tate and his friends, played by Chris Tucker and Freddy Rodriguez are shattered by their experiences in the war, and each returns changed in some way. The war portion of the movie is particularly brutal, on par with many of the major war films, and includes such things as a soldier toting around the severed head of one of their enemies. It pulls no punches. Honestly, any segment of the film, from the coming-of-age portion to the war to the heist contained enough material for one film, but since there's a logical progression from one to another, it makes sense why all are included. Keith David and Terrence Howard round out the cast in this rich tapestry. I don't recall how it did in theaters, but it was interesting that they marketed it with the focus on 15 minutes of the third act of a much richer tale.

3) Choke:
Sam Rockwell plays a sex addict who can't even abstain from sex with the girl he's supposed to be sponsoring in his support group, and a con-man who consistently fakes choking in restaurants to get people to save him, people who subsequently send him money or gifts. On the surface, he doesn't seem to have too many redeeming qualities, but because it's Sam Rockwell, you're compelled to watch this behavior and even root for him. When he's not working in a dead-end colonial reenactment job, he's visiting his mother in the nursing home, and her portrayal by Anjelica Huston adds a heart-breaking element to the film. She refuses to eat, and never recognizes her son, always confusing him for a lawyer or someone else, and she complains to Rockwell that her loser of a son never visits her. As the film delves into his childhood relationship with his mom through flashbacks, we gradually understand why he is the way he is, and even why he looks for strangers in restaurants to save him. When a beautiful young doctor at the home suggests a possible way to restore his mother, she sets off a chain of events that will make him question everything, after which nothing will ever be the same. It's a solid little film adapted from a novel by the author of Fight Club, though this movie has more of an independent, character driven flavor. It's definitely worth checking out. I never even would have heard of it myself, until I read on a message board for increasingly brilliant Community that a line of dialogue about a stripper named “Cherry Daiquiri” was a subtle injoke referencing a character cast-member Gilian Jacobs had played in the movie. It makes me wonder what other clever and obscure references the writers have sent sailing over my head, but I'm glad it led me to a good movie.

More reviews to follow next week after I've spun a few more discs!

In the Core Sitcom Universe

2009-11-28T00:00:00.001-05:00

Thank Full

2009-11-27T00:00:00.004-05:00

I hope everyone had a blessed and happy Thanksgiving this year! My family deviated from tradition slightly this year, possibly forging a new one along the way.

Normally, my Uncle Jerry would join us for such holiday gatherings. Since becoming too demented to live on his own, he's been relocated to an assisted living facility. We probably could have checked him out, but for various reasons I won't get into here, he would have been too much for us to handle. So for the first time in possibly ever, my parents and I had a quiet meal with just the three of us. My mom opted for seasoned deli chunks of turkey as opposed to getting a whole bird, but it was still quite tasty. As for corn, salad, stuffing, mashed potatoes, and the rest of the usual side dishes, they were all well and truly accounted for.

My mom also made an angel food cake, which my dad dug into right after the main meal. Since I'd only had my “breakfast” around 11:30 AM and we had “dinner” by 1 PM, I wasn't quite ready for dessert yet. My mom wrapped up a piece to take to my uncle, and soon we were on our way. Parking was abundant and I got a great spot, as most people had been checked out by their families for the day. Inside, my mom checked the main recreation room first in the hope that my uncle had ventured out of his room on his own. He had not. Upstairs, he didn't answer her knocking, but fortunately both she and her oldest brother have spares.

He shuffled to his feet from his bed at the far corner of the room. His television volume was cranking, which is why he probably didn't hear us. His face lit up with recognition when he saw me, but he's definitely not the full person he was a few years ago. My mom asked if he'd had a party that day, and had difficulty getting straight answers. He kept complaining it was cold, although even my folks thought it was hot and they're always cold. I'd thought ahead and worn a short sleeve shirt under my coat, knowing that a building full of the elderly would be warmer than I'd like.

My mom only turned her back on him for a minute or two to talk with my dad and I, who'd become engrossed in the end of Dr. Dolittle. More accurately, I was engrossed while my dad was just waiting for me to put the football game on for him. Meanwhile, Uncle Jerry had put on his neck pillow and climbed under the covers of his bed. “What are you, going back to sleep? HELLO??” asked my mom, when she turned back and saw what he'd done. Apparently he did the same thing to my other Uncle earlier in the week.

My dad by this point started muttering that we should just go home, that he could watch the game there. There really wasn't much point in visiting someone who wasn't aware of our presence. But a nurse soon arrived to take him down for the afternoon meal, and with some effort and help from my mom, they got him on his feet and got his jacket on. He shuffled along like the old man skit Tim Conway used to do, and insisted on taking the stairs rather than the elevator. Eventually we made it to the dining hall, and the nurse said we'd be able to sit with him since a lot of people were out for the day. One of the younger nurses walked by and my uncle shook her hand and introduced us. She'd met my folks before, and recognized me from my uncle's photos. When she moved to continue on her way, Uncle Jerry continued gripping her hand. “Oh, you don't want me to leave?” she asked. He just smiled. Player.

It took another ten minutes to traverse the dining area. “She's not there...” he mumbled, but we didn't know who he was looking for. One of the nurses? One of the patients he usually sits with? There were cards on the tables with people's names, but the staff told us we could sit anywhere. He got to his usual table and was joined by a few others, though one woman came over reluctantly, thrown off by the chaos of the “sit anywhere” business even after her son assured her that the assigned seat rule had been lifted for the day. My dad slipped off to find a television, and when all the other seats at the table were full I left my mom with her brother so I could find my dad. But I got stuck at a ramp where people with walkers kept materializing. It was like I was in some kind of video game. One would make it to the top and I'd start to proceed, but then “BAMF!”, a new one was at the bottom of the ramp. I was waiting so long that my dad actually came back, and called up to me that someone was turning on a television for him in the rec room, but he wanted me to ask my mom if it was okay, if it wasn't rude.

I told my mom that her “other son” was asking permission to watch TV, which she granted with a small smile. I checked on my dad for a bit as he watched the game in giant flat screen glory in a room all to himself, then back on my mom, who'd gotten food for my uncle to slowly pick at. Sandwiches probably weren't the best choice for someone with false teeth. Still, he managed, and had a better time with the potato salad and fresh fruit. One of the workers came around with various pills, but my uncle refused his. “We fight every night about this,” she told my mom. My mom had better luck sticking the pill in his mouth and getting him to wash it down with some juice. Then, after retrieving my father, we made the long journey back upstairs to my Uncle's room. Inside, Home Alone was just wrapping up on the television, and ”the old man got to me.” Fortunately, that one scene with that heart-tugging score didn't last long, and I maintained my composure for a family photo before we said good night, leaving my uncle standing in front of his bureau devouring the cake my mom had brought.

It's always interesting to see the people in that place, the varying degrees of competency and awareness. At one point while watching the game, my dad matter-of-factly told me, “Yeah, I think I'm going to die this year.” He's been saying that nearly every year as long as I've known him, but I still felt compelled to remind him that he's in much better shape than most people pushing 80. He rakes leaves, climbs ladders, carries things, and works on cars, and wonders why it puts more of a strain on him than it used to. Other guys his age are sitting staring at walls drooling. I'm thankful my family is still here, that their health is for the most part still good. My dad is in a lot better shape than he was at the beginning of the year when he was in a nursing home himself. He definitely didn't like being there and I don't blame him. But we had to be there for my Uncle, who despite asking us if we voted that morning, on some level of consciousness was aware of what day it really was, and that his family was there. My parents see him a few times a week, while I'm only there once every few months, yet he still knew enough to introduce me to people as his nephew. That's something to be thankful for. And all of the people in that home hopefully led exciting or interesting lives prior to settling there, and have memories they can be thankful of. As for me, I'm thankful that I can go where I want, when I want. The visit certainly served as a reminder that maybe I need to exercise my freedom more often, while there's still time. It all goes so fast. I'm thankful it doesn't go faster. And I’m determined to stick around on this world as long as possible, because I don’t want to miss anything. If I end up in a home with no internet access though, then and only then might I be ready to go....

Young Blood

2009-11-26T00:00:00.002-05:00

I've successfully donated blood about four times now, and was unsuccessful once. My first attempt was back in high school, and it was a horrible experience. Back then, they'd prick your thumb with, in my memory, a big thumb tack. It probably wasn't that bad, but with sensitive nerve endings in the tip of my thumb, that hurt worse than the needle in my arm when they drew blood. I made the mistake of glancing at the tube of red stuff flowing out of me into a bag, and felt a little woozy. About the only good part of the experience was, before leaving the gymnasium, having a veritable feast of cookies and drinks. I can't think of any other situation in life where I'd combine Oreos and apple juice, but that's what they serve to boost sugar. It was a Friday night in my senior year, because at the time I had a job with the student cleaning crew assisting the maintenance staff. I was lightheaded, though some of it was psychological, and cleaning all the windows in the school took a little longer than usual. I remember wondering at the time if that was what it was like to feel drunk. I'd be in college before I'd learn that the sensation was similar.

About a month after my first donation, I came home from school to find my mom fairly upset. There was a letter saying my blood had been rejected, and that I should see my doctor because the blood bank thought I was anemic. It was nice of them to wait so long to tell us. Of course, everything checked out fine with the doctor, so we assumed the technicians had screwed up and wasted perfectly good blood. I'd gone through it all for nothing, and I was done with needles. Flash forward eight years and I'd be in the hospital with severe internal bleeding, within a pint of needing a blood transfusion. An exploratory procedure confirmed the problem to be a birth defect in my intestines known as a Meckel's diverticulum, a long shot but the doctors' best guess. The surgeon resectioned my intestines and removed my appendix while he had me open, and after a few days on morphine with a nasogastric tube siphoning my stomach, I was finally allowed to eat real food again.

One thing the experience got me used to was needles, since they were drawing blood from me three or four times a day to (ironically) test how much I was losing. Subsequent checkups were much easier and I didn't fear blood tests or needles. It really was just a momentary pinch after which I was fine. Still, whenever the blood bank stopped by my office, I wasn't too inclined to go out to those mobile centers out in the parking lot. Something about having my blood drained in a trailer didn't appeal to me. Three years ago when I changed jobs, I finally caved and decided to donate. The office blood captain was very persuasive, and besides it was in the cafeteria, which was more appealing to me than the trailers, even though it was probably less appealing for anyone eating lunch on the other side of the curtains.

According to the stickers I've accumulated in my cubicle, this past Tuesday marks my fourth donation. One of my friends has dubbed me a “blood buddy” since my presence is relaxing or distracting. She probably doesn't realize that the whole experience kind of still makes me nervous. I worry about passing out, which ironically makes me feel more light headed. Usually I close my eyes or simply lift my thoughts up out of my body and detach myself from what's happening. And I never, ever look at the tube or the bag. I tried to convince another office friend to start donating, using the mental detachment argument, but he can't get past the feeling of a needle stuck in there for an extended period of time.

One thing that has greatly improved is the little finger prick they do in the preliminary testing. Instead of a metal tack, there's some little plastic thing with a small metal pin inside that they click, and it only takes a second. I remember the nurse taking forever to push the metal into my thumb back in high school. They also use the ring finger which seems to have less sensitive nerve endings. This year, I braced myself for the pinch, and didn't feel a thing after the click. It was great. “Uh oh,” said the nurse, “Did it...yeah, I think that one broke.” “What do yo--ooohh!” I began as she tried again with a new one. “Felt that one, did you?” she asked. I knew it was too good to be true. When she asked for my blood type, I was somewhat positive that it was O+, the universal donor. When asked to present my card, I whipped out my red CVS card, which apparently didn't count. I cleaned my wallet out a few months ago and I guess I never put my donor card back in. I'd find it later and confirm that I was right about my blood type.

Honestly, the whole procedure of filling out paperwork and having a nurse check my blood, temperature, and blood pressure took longer than the actual donation. Each time seems faster than the last, and the anticipation between sitting in the waiting area and lying on the cot waiting for a vein to be found and pierced is worse than the actual lying there with blood draining out. I felt like I'd just begun when I was told I was almost finished. I didn't even feel all that light headed when I got up, though I still made a pig of myself with the juice and cookies.

Because my type can be given to anyone, the blood telemarketers harass me throughout the year. My company has increased to two drives per year, and I donate any time they come around. But when I get those phone calls, at work no less, I'm sort of a dick about it and hang up. I've learned to recognize the silence at the other end of the line that precedes an operator getting on the phone upon realizing a live person has answered. I know it's wrong, but I figure the once or twice I give each year is still better than not at all. According to my papers, the next time I'd regenerate enough to donate again won't be until January any way. So we'll see if I continue to hang up or start making other contributions throughout the year, if they finally break me down. I never thought I'd ever donate again after my high school experience, and I do hope that each time I donate now my blood is put to good use. Maybe there's someone out there on an operating table as I once was, who won't be so fortunate as to have a problem resolved without the help of a transfusion. I know the stock photo families on the posters aren't real, that I'll never see the people my blood goes to. But it goes somewhere, and that's enough.

Of course, with my luck, some clumsy orderly tripped and dropped mine on the way out. if that happened, I'd rather not know.

PBW: Mom's Crafty

2009-11-25T00:00:00.003-05:00

My mom was a fairly good painter in her youth, although I think I was in my 20s before I found out some of the paintings hanging in our house were done by her. I guess I didn’t recognize the initials painted in the corners since they were done before she was married. But I have always known my mom was good at crafts, from sewing to crochet to making wreaths. One of her specialties is making angels out of styrofoam and fabric maché and painting them gold. She sells them at various craft fairs throughout the year, and this past weekend I got some shots of my folks along with her creations at one such event for a Photo Blog Wednesday pre-holiday special:

Turtles Forever

2009-11-24T00:00:00.001-05:00

As far as I knew, the Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles began as a goofy '80s cartoon about four pizza-loving green heroes spouting catch phrases like “Cowabunga!” or “Turtle Power!” There were toys and a variety of merchandise, and by 1990 they even got their own live action movie, the first film I saw in my home town's first movie theater. I had never been to the movies without at least one parent accompanying me, and I remember begging my folks and cleaning the entire house for a week to get them to let me go with my friends unsupervised. I even did a little drawing of the four characters and put them the refrigerator as a reminder.

The turtles were probably my second most frequently drawn characters after, of course, The Transformers. By the time I was in high school, I had gotten into comic books and started drawing superheroes. And old, “hipper” collectors showed me the Mirage comic series that inspired the show. It was much darker than what I'd been watching, black and white panels with style and dialogue influenced in part by Miller's Daredevil. If the film version of the turtles differed from the cartoon I grew up watching, it was because it was more faithful to the source material. I altered my drawing style to look more like the comics, and even attended a class at my local library taught by none other than Turtles co-creator Peter Laird.

By college, I was majoring in art, with more of a focus on graphic design than illustration. I would also make several pilgrimages a year with my friends to the Words and Pictures Museum in Massachusetts, founded by the other creator of the Turtles, Kevin Eastman. That museum respected comics as “sequential art”, and exhibited original pieces from both independent and big name illustrators. And of course there were plenty of life-sized Turtles lurking about in the rafters. It was a cool place; a shame it's gone.

In 2003, a new animated series debuted, with darker, edgier Turtles closer to their comic book roots. Gone were the initials on the belt buckles to tell the characters apart. No longer were the pupils drawn on the masks, just opaque slits. They trained as actual ninjas, and kept their existence secret from the public, while the Turtles from the first series often flew around in a balloon or drove in a van bearing their logo. The series ran for 7 seasons, and with the exception of one season that had our heroes trapped in the future with a younger sidekick, it maintained its dark tone. Characters died, and a lot was at stake. Injuries carried over from episode to episode, and there was genuine continuity and personal growth. Leonardo took on much responsibility for his brothers, and trained the hardest, going solo in Japan for a bit after a personal crisis. Donatello was still the scientist of the group, although he went through an arc in which science nearly destroyed him. Raphael was the belligerent loner of the group, though beneath his tough exterior beat fierce love for his brothers and their sensei/”father” Master Splinter. Michelangelo was probably the closest to his 1987 version, still the comedian of the group, here a comic book aficionado with a penchant for dressing up like his favorite heroes at times. He retained the lighter spirit of the old show, and collectively the whole cast made up an outstanding hybrid of the source comics and prior series.

SPOILERS follow for the conclusion of the series and a follow-up movie:

That show ended with the wedding of the Turtles' human friends and allies, April O'Neil and Casey Jones. Things of course do not go smoothly with the arrival of Cyber Shredder, but all the Turtles' old allies join forces to defeat their enemy once and for all. This was not the same Shredder who was their main foe through the first few seasons of the show; in a twist, he was revealed to be an alien and had been exiled to a distant, frozen world following his defeat. There were actually 3 or 4 Shredders over the course of the series, with a history too convoluted to get into here. But they were all more menacing and formidable than 1987's Shredder.

Every Turtles series culminated this past Saturday in Turtles Forever, an epic feature-length adventure in which the 2003 Turtles meet their 1987 counterparts, thanks to an interdimensional mishap with the Technodrome, the giant rolling fortress of ‘87 Shredder and his interdimensional ally Krang. The film opens on a familiar 2003 scene, as Hun and his gang are confronted during an electronics robbery by a quartet of shadowy green figures. Master Splinter catches a reference to this on the news, and thinks his sons have been careless, but since none of them had ventured out that night, they soon realize something's not right.

Hun captures his attackers, who are revealed to be the ‘87 Turtles, and the 2003 versions come to the rescue of their alternate universe counterparts. Mikey, of course, takes to them instantly, while Raph finds them irritating. Shredder and Krang are in the ‘03 universe as well, along with the Technodrome and Bebop and Rocksteady, who did not have counterparts in the new cartoon. The two Turtle quartets join forces and find time for a visit to the ‘87 universe, while Shredder uses the Technodrome to locate and revive his counterpart, the deadly alien Shredder. ‘03 Shredder quickly takes control of the situation, upgrading the technology of the interdimensional travelers while reuniting with his old allies. He eventually discovers that these two groups of turtles are but a small part of a multiverse, and in one spectacular sequence of floating screens we get cameos of every comic book, live action, or CGI incarnation of the franchise. He tracks it all to a prime dimension, and the biggest treat of the film is finally seeing the black and white original Mirage Turtles animated. Raph is as enamored with the gritty source universe as Mikey is of the ‘80s “pudgeballs”, but they all fall quickly to the black-and-white originals, all while Mirage Leo narrates in a gritty voice: “I strike two on my way down. Donatello...takes out a third with his staff. Already the PUDGY ones are starting to panic. Raph LOVES this stuff. He's not alone.” The narration strikes the ‘03 Turtles as insane, as much as the ‘87 group's penchant to break the fourth wall and address the unseen audience.

The idea of multiple universes colliding is hardly an original one, but for TMNT to go through their own Crisis was definitely a fitting tribute to the 25-year-old franchise. It makes me feel old to realize they've been around that long, but Eastman and Laird's creations have come a long way, and this film certainly demonstrates that. It wasn't without its flaws, as the lack of some of the original voice actors is painfully noticeable in some instances. But the concept works in connecting all that's come before into one cohesive conclusion to this chapter, while acknowledging that it's not over. Now that Laird has sold off all the rights to Nickelodeon, it remains to be seen where these characters will go next. A new series is apparently in the works for 2012. Meanwhile, all the original incarnations are intact as we remember them, and all the universes Turtles Forever touched upon can be visited at any time. You don't even need a Technodrome to get there, just some DVDs and back issues.

Cowabunga.

Phantasmic Links 11.23.09

2009-11-23T00:43:00.000-05:00

It was nice, if slightly boring, to have a quiet weekend for a change. I helped my mom with a craft fair, got some photos, and caught up on some DVDs and TV shows. The one-time only debut of the epic Turtles Forever had me in front of a television early on Saturday morning with a bowl of cereal, taking me back in many ways as characters from 1987 met their 2003 incarnations. It was definitely a highlight. Other highlights found during my online travels can be found below, in this week's PHANTASMIC LINKS:

(1) You must help a panda recover the broken pieces of the time-travelling portaloo which has stranded him among four different time periods. Really, there's not much else you need to know.

(2) Successful surgical hand reattachment. WARNING: EXTREMELY GRAPHIC.

(3) These are 15 of the dumbest superhero retcons of all time, not that any situation where a comic book writer tells us, “forget what you read, this is what really happened” is ever a great one, with few exceptions. I'm more impressed when a story is shown to have been planned out, and when writers stick to what's been established. The fact that no change ever seemed permanent was one of the reasons I stopped collecting and reading comics to begin with, because it all seemed to be going in circles after a while. (Although the stuff I've read online about what they're doing with Norman Osborn in Dark Reign sounds pretty cool, and would never have been possible if the character stayed “dead”.)
Hat Tip: J-No.

(4) One artist proves that some characters are BETTER...with BEARDS. I think Bearded Batman might find it harder to conceal his secret identity...

(5) Kiss your productivity goodbye with Free Frogger. It's like crack.

(6) Take tattoos to the next level with LED. Changing the name of an ex will be easier than ever!

(7) How can you escape when you're alone in The Company of Myself? Sometimes, you're all the help you need....although that last level took me FOREVER.

(8) In the category of “Why didn't someone think of this sooner?”, I present bacon flavored envelope glue. If it killed me I'd die happy...
H.T.: J-No.

(9) This gallery of nylon fabric sculptures is INSANE. I had to do one of those for a high school project and made a replica of my chemistry teacher's wrinkled old head, but it looked nowhere near as good or realistic as these.

(10) Enjoy challenging two-player gaming with yourself as you take control of Fireboy AND Watergirl in The Forest Temple. Can your left and right hands work together to navigate every level?

Have a link to a game, movie, article, or anything else you think might be “phantasmic”? E-mail me and it just might appear in an upcoming PHANTASMIC LINKS!

WWW: Weekend Wrental Wreviews 18

2009-11-22T00:00:00.000-05:00

Let's see what I saw this week for Weekend Wrental Wreviews in my 18th WWW:

1) Legally Blonde:
While I felt that I was clearly not the target audience for this classic tale of female empowerment, I can't exactly say it was a bad movie. Reese Witherspoon might start out playing the queen of the dumb sorority girls, but her character quickly proves how smart and capable she truly is when she follows her jerky ex-boyfriend to Harvard law school and, surprise, succeeds. That's an ironic “surprise” in the preceding sentence, since anyone familiar with the Hollywood formula can pretty much predict what's going to happen here. But Witherspoon proves likable as always, and wins over her audience even as her character wins over her professors, classmates, and even a courtroom, because under Article What Section Whatever of Habbeus Hollywoodus, even a Law Student might represent a client in a murder trial. Just go with it. There's a solid supporting cast here that includes Luke Wilson, Selma Blair, Victor Garber, and Ali Larter. Guys might cringe at things like the sheer volume of pink clothing and a musical sequence in a beauty shop where Witherspoon teaches middle-aged women how to “bend and snap”, but there are some laughs in there as well. In the end, I almost gave it four out of five stars, until they did that cliché ‘80s thing where superimposed captions tell you what happens to all of the characters. In the ‘80s this works, especially if you find out what students go on to do later in life for example. But here, the captions tell you what happens MINUTES AFTER THE FINAL SCENE, and it comes across like they ran out of film or couldn't pay the actors any more, even though it was a case where it would have been better to show rather than tell us. So I subtracted a star, put the movie back in its mailing sleeve, and subsequently went to a Metallica concert.

2) The Shipping News:
This movie is at times outstanding, heartbreaking, and hopeful. Kevin Spacey plays a shy and awkward loser whose love for Cate Blanchett's character blinds him to her flaws, until tragedy strikes. When a previously-unknown Aunt played by Judy Dench shows up, Spacey and his daughter relocate to Newfoundland, where he learns hidden truths about his family and the hidden potential within himself. An ink setter often berated by his father for everything from not being a good swimmer to not being successful, he finds himself working as a reporter for a small newspaper. With some coaching from veteran writers and his own instincts, he soon gets to be pretty good, and some of the short, catchy headlines that pop up in his narration will bring a smile to your face. “Lumbering Idiot Stuns Crowd--for a Change” was one of my favorites. The theme of Man vs. Nature is just as strong as Man's Inhumanity to Man here, in a town where people seem to accept that storms and the ocean will claim more than a few lives each year. It's the last place one would expect to find hope, so it's all that much more satisfying when our protagonists do.

3) Monsters vs. Aliens:
Pixar might be the undisputed master of computer animation, but if anyone can dispute them it would be Dreamworks, and M.v.A. certainly is a shining example of how great they are too. As I expected, Seth Rogen got some of the best laughs, voicing B.O.B., a brainless mass of gelatinous blue goo with an eyeball and some intelligence. Reese Witherspoon shines here as a bride-to-be turned into a giant freak by a meteorite on her wedding day, who soon finds true friends in other government-contained monsters when they unite against an invading alien force led by Rainn Wilson. The premise is pretty basic: aliens invade so the government sics monsters on them. But it works, and it's all so pretty. People look more and more real in these things. Textures like hair and fur are insane. Water is fluid, as it should be. Eyes are shiny and seem to stare back at you. In one sequence, as the Golden Gate Bridge crumbles, it really looks like they destroyed the actual bridge, as cables snap and concrete dividers are tossed around. Animation has come a long way, and with little nuggets in this movie like the theme from Close Encounters and Axel F, there's more than a few treats in there for parents to enjoy too.

More reviews to follow next week after I've spun a few more discs!

The Birthankschriangle

2009-11-21T00:00:00.002-05:00

There is a dark and deadly triangle my friends, one that cannot be seen, heard, nor touched, but trust me when I say that it is real, it does exist, and its effects are felt.

In college, a cheese stick at 1 AM on a camping trip earned me the nickname of the “Snackin'est Mutha****a in the World”, although it wasn't just that cheese stick. It was that snack, at that time, that made one of my friends realize that I always had a cookie, chip, or some other food item in my hands at any given moment. When our art club had meetings, I was the soda and chips guy, in that I purchased and consumed most of the soda and chips. I had more munchies than a pothead, which makes me shudder to think what effect the stuff might have had on me if I ever tried it. I'd probably have turned into Galactus; I've already got the head for it.

My big downfall after I graduated was the propagation of a little chain called Starbucks; have you heard of it? I was never a big coffee drinker, and mostly went there at lunch for social reasons, to be around a girl I liked. We eventually dated for two-and-a-half years once she dropped enough anvils letting me know that she liked me as well, and I'm very fortunate for that time since five Venti Mocha Frappuccinos a week with whipped cream tend to add a little weight. There was one Summer before my senior year of college in which running around for six hours in the hot sun for my job at a gas station helped me slim down quite a bit. I didn't realize how much until recently when I looked at some old photos.

The next time I'd lose significant weight would be when, at the age of 25, a birth defect in my intestines that only effects 2% of the population, and is usually diagnosed in infants, up and decided, “Hey, I'ma gonna rupture now.” After nearly bleeding to death, the problem was diagnosed, with the offending culprit removed, and I spent 11 days in the hospital with only IV fluids to sustain me. Gradually, I got back strength and confidence and soon resumed a normal life, and a few years later when my company added a gym, some friends coaxed me into joining. It was one of the best decisions of my life.

I treated the treadmill like a video game, did constant math with the numbers on the display to calculate how fast I would have to run to achieve a certain distance in a certain time, and every day I tried to “beat” my score. I eventually ran in several inter-company races, and it was very satisfying to think that the chubby kid who could barely run during his school years because he'd get sharp pains in his side was now running competitively. When I lost my old job I lost my gym, and I put weight back on very quickly over one dark Winter. When my energy levels dropped and old feelings of anxiety, lightheadedness, and shortness of breath returned in stressful situations, I knew I needed a new gym. The new one was more expensive, but had better equipment, and was worth it. Just as before, I had to start slow, but gradually worked my way up. I didn't get back to where I was until this past Summer, when training for a race, and after I finished the race well below my goal time, I didn't stop running every day in the gym. People who hadn't seen me in a while on band gigs would comment that I was looking slim, so eventually I mustered up the courage to get on a scale, and I'd gone from almost 200 pounds earlier this year down to 175, which while still 25 pounds more than that one year in college is still an improvement.

The last time I got on a scale was a few weeks ago, after I found I had to punch a new hole in my belt to keep my jeans up. But now, now I'm afraid. You see, now I'm inside the first point of that dreaded triangle. My birthday starts things off in November, and between the cupcakes some girls at work gave me and the arsenal of snacks my parents bought, I've been feeling the effects of gravity more and more on that treadmill. I'm still managing 6 miles a day, but it's starting to get harder again. And I get this mentality that the sooner I finish those snacks, the sooner those cupcakes and Kit Kats and Doritos and Milanos and chocolate chip muffins and pudding cups and ice cream cake are GONE, the sooner I get back to my routine.

Only scraps remain now. The Milanos and Kit Kats were the first to fall, followed shortly by the Doritos. One cupcake and one back of mini muffins remain. The ice cream cake didn't know what hit it. Oddly enough, my mom always stocks the refrigerator with cartons of ice cream in the early Fall; I'm guessing the prices are right this time of year. Some nights I've caught myself taking granola bars, one of my healthier snacks, and dipping them into an ice cream “soup” which is just ice cream in a bowl with milk poured in, possibly some dried cereal like Rice Krispies. Seriously, when it comes to gluttony, I'm an artiste. When it comes to will power, it only extends a certain distance. If I have to leave the house to get a snack, I won't. But if it's in the freezer a few feet away, I have a problem. I might tell myself that tonight I'm going to skip dessert, but then I black out or something and find myself slumped in front of an Office rerun with an empty bowl and the faint scent of chocolate from the residue within.

I'm still running. And every day I walk at least two miles at lunch, so long as the weather continues to permit. But my birthday is only the beginning. Thanksgiving will be here in just a few short days. With my Uncle Jerry in a nursing home with dementia this year, he won't be bringing by Cannoli and other pastries from an Italian bakery, but that won't stop my mom from making turkey AND lasagna AND buying a slew of desserts. It won't be as bad as my birthday with leftover snacks lingering, but it will strike before I've had a chance to recover from my birthday, and just as I'm getting over Thanksgiving, guess what? Point #3: Christmas. I'm DOOMED.

I haven't gotten on a scale, but I can see it in the mirror, see angles rounding out and disappearing, definition in my face lost as my cheeks balloon out. I feel that sickly feeling where love handles spill out the sides and drape below the pelvic bones. And I'm a lot more tired than I should be. A lesser man might quit the gym entirely while in this triangle; a wiser one would put his membership on hold, since I just come home and cancel out whatever work I'm doing. But I don't think I should stop, because this isn't a losing battle. Right now, this is a holding action, and the enemy is gaining some ground, but not winning. If I can just hold on for six more weeks, then I'll be poised in January for one hell of a comeback. Let the holidays take their toll for two months out of the year; the other ten belong to a runner leaving the Snackin'-est Mutha in the dust.

My YEAH Five

2009-11-20T00:35:00.003-05:00

I think musicians have a bit more leeway than poets in that they can twist, extend, or distort words to fit melodies and rhyme schemes. A hallmark of rock and rap singers in particular is the “YEAH”, a four-letter word that can be used in a surprising variety of ways, to punctuate, bridge, buffer, and just in general support the rest of the lyrics. Here are My Five best musical “YEAH” masters, in no particular order:

1) Eddie Vedder:
The lead singer of Pearl Jam is notorious for scrambling, distorting, and exhaling his “YEAH”s until they're virtually unrecognizable. Most sound like “ehhhyahh”, and sometimes I'll mistake other words like “again” for his signature “YEAH”. For a good example, take a look at Even Flow with lyrics:

2) Layne Staley and Jerry Cantrell:
The harmonic duo that brought us the unique sound of Alice in Chains might be no more since Staley's drug overdose in 2002, but I've been listening to the group's new album since they brought in a new vocalist, and I have to say I'm impressed with how intact their original sound is. But since their sound originated with Staley/Cantrell, let's listen to their rendition of Again, with elongated “Y”s and “H”s:

3) The Who's “Won't Get Fooled Again”:
Roger Daltry belts out like a two-minute “YEEEEEEAAAAAAH” almost 8 minutes into this song; of course it's on the list:

4) She Loves You by The Beatles:
It's this of old-school “YEAH YEAH YEAH!” simplicity that makes up the foundation of everything that's been done since then:

5) Lil Jon:
I think we all knew I was going to end up here. Sure, if we're looking for good and original hip hop “YEAH”s, we'd be better off looking at someone like Flavor Flav. But this way I get to save Flav for a “BOYEEE” five and instead share a Dave Chapelle Lil Jon skit, since those are so much funnier:

Do you agree with my choices? There's probably some word to answer that inquiry in the positive, but it escapes me right now...

27 Years

2009-11-19T00:00:00.001-05:00

”So I just spoke with your Uncle Dean,” said my dad.

“Oh yeah?” I replied, “How's he doing?” I hadn't seen my godfather since my dad's nursing home stint at the beginning of the year, but he'd made a point of calling my dad several times a week since then. There's nothing like almost losing a friend to remind us of his or her importance, and as the man who helped introduce my folks, Uncle Dean was more family than friend.

“He was calling to say his brother passed away.”

“Oh, I'm sorry,” condoled I, “Are you going to the wake, then?”

“No, he's already buried. They hadn't spoken for 27 years.”

“27 years?!”

“Yeah, he answered the phone, and his sister-in-law simply told him, ‘Your brother's dead. Goodbye.' Then she hung up.”

My dad went on to tell me how the two brothers were equally stubborn. Uncle Dean's brother, in my dad's words, was “a bit of a playboy,” and wasn't much help when their mother was dying. After she was gone, the brother moved out of state, and the two never spoke again. And now, they never would. The silence had become irreversible.

I've never held on to a girlfriend for more than two-and-a-half years, or a single job for more than seven; I can't fathom holding a grudge for TWENTY-SEVEN. There was a period of time before I was born, when my dad didn't speak to his oldest sister over a property dispute after my grandfather had died(she sued him with the family lawyer to take their old house). Eventually they got back to speaking again, and once or twice a year she'll call from Florida. “I can forgive, but I'll never forget,” he'll tell me. There's still tension, but at least they're talking.

I guess it comes down to the path of least resistance. The good things take work and effort to hold on to; ironically the negative stuff is easier to keep and difficult to shed. I'm glad my aunt and my dad reached some form of uneasy truce before it was too late. It’s a genuine shame that my Uncle Dean’s relationship with his brother died 27 years before the man did. Proud and stubborn though my godfather may be, he’s also a man of caring and concern, evidenced by how frequently he visited my dad when he was sick. He’s maintained a friendship with my dad, who’s like a brother, for far longer than he kept that grudge. The people in our lives, whether placed there by biology or chance, each play some important role, not to be discarded lightly. If their friendship could last that long, if my parents’ marriage has now passed 39 years, then it proves that sometimes, just sometimes, good things last too.

PBW: The Accidental Oasis

2009-11-18T00:05:00.009-05:00

Some of my best Photo Blog Wednesday adventures happen when I have absolutely no plan at all. Driving aimlessly on Monday afternoon, I passed a sign for the Vanderbilt Museum and Planetarium, a place I haven't been to since an elementary school field trip. I remember the grounds and structures were very nice, and grew excited at the opportunity to return there as an adult. The van crowding my rear bumper had other ideas, however, so I missed my turn. I made the first left I could, and was soon driving down a narrow two lane road alongside the water. I ended up in some beautiful waterfront town, and decided to park there and take pictures. It was idyllic, and I wondered where this hidden treasure was exactly. As I walked along the shore, I couldn't help but notice how much this little community resembled Northport. As my perspective changed, I began to think it was Northport, and then I noticed the name on some signs. I'd been there dozens of times, from parades to dates to solo photo excursions, but had always come in through the main road. The little side street I accidentally discovered was a back way in that shaved several minutes off the route I used to take whenever I'd go there. I wish I knew about that street ten years ago. In any case, it was a beautiful day, and a perfect place to spend a day off from the office. As for the Vanderbilt site, I managed to drive past it later and see that it was closed. I'll have to save that for the future, and not on a Monday.

MetallicAgain

2009-11-17T00:00:00.000-05:00

Back in January, I had the privilege of seeing Metallica play live at Nassau Coliseum, my first time seeing the band perform. They didn't disappoint, playing a healthy mix of the best of their old stuff with songs from their latest album, skipping all the disappointing stuff in between. After their first five albums, things went downhill for a while, but they're starting to sound good again. It was an amazing experience, with lasers, pyrotechnics, and audience participation. When my friend told me they'd be playing again in November at Madison Square Garden, I didn't need to be invited twice. Though they sure don't show any signs of it, they are aging, so I shouldn't miss any opportunity to see them live.

It was nice not to worry about driving, to be able to take the train directly in. We had a group of about 10 people, but since seating was sold in groups no greater than two, we were somewhat spread out. Originally there was only going to be one show on Saturday, but once that sold out, a Sunday show was added as well, and that's where we fit in. We opted to go to a bar for drinks first and skip the first two acts, heading upstairs around 9 PM when it was almost time for the main event. I ended up sitting with some kid that worked for my friend's brother-in-law, and he spent most of the time talking about how his girlfriend had done “something”(I assumed cheated) but that he forgave her and didn't want to throw away four years together. She had taken him to his first rock concert and it stuck with him, and he hoped she would understand him taking his boss up on the offer to see Metallica when he had an extra ticket. Still, the kid ended up cutting out a little early so he could see his girl, and I ended up having a section to myself for a while.

At some point, a trio of drunk idiots came along, and one asked if the seat next to me was taken. My friend had texted me that he was going to join me but needed my seat number, so I told them it was taken. After a few minutes when no one took any of the vacant seats next to me, the trio returned, edging their way in. The guy next to me sported a Punisher t-shirt and looked a bit like Zaboo from The Guild. I held my ground, and decided to be a bigger drunk idiot, even though I'd only had five beers and they had a few hours to wear off by that point. I moshed. I threw my fists up in the air, in hopes that I might “accidentally” catch him on his unshaven chin. It was a fight for personal space that I was somehow losing. During one song I didn't recognize, I sat down for a bit to catch my breath. Some tunes, like Sad but True, sent me into an exhausting frenzy. And as good as the show was, it was simply a better version of the one I'd seen in January. The same coffins hung around the stage, with lights mounted on them as they moved. There were laser light shows and jets of flames, and even some of Hetfield's schtick as he addressed the crowd was the same.(“Oh, YEAH?! Oh....YEEEAH?”) So I didn't feel like I would miss anything if I sat down for a song or two. When “Zaboo” almost fell on me, I flat SHOVED him into his friends. “Sorry...” he murmured, regaining his balance, before sinking back into headbanging oblivion. Kids today. Ironically, one of my friends at work thought I'd be the youngest person at the show.

At the end, James teased us by pretending to remove his guitar. We'd boo when he lifted the strap off his shoulder and cheer when he put it back on. But we knew there would be encores as usual, from the Mistfit's Last Caress cover to Seek and Destroy, the ultimate anchor song. As black beach balls rained down on the crowd, I was overwhelmed by how awesome it was to hear Hetfield work “New York City” into the lyrics. It's a corny thing that bands do, and with that song they already have the word “city” in there, but for whatever reason it was great to hear. After two-and-a-half hours of nearly non-stop thrashing, the show was over, or so we thought.

With the house lights on, I could spot the rest of my party. They were actually in the same row, but four sections over. My friend had texted me their location during the show, but I was busy with my turf war for those last few songs. As I made my way over, I heard a commotion down below, and turned to see someone covered in whipped cream with paper plates stuck to him. As he wiped himself off, I saw it was lead guitarist Kirk Hammett. “You knew that was comin'” said Hetfield, grinning ear-to-ear. “It's close enough to your birthday.” And then, something I never, ever expected to happen occurred. The lead singer of freaking METALLICA led a packed MSG in singing “Happy Birthday”. You expect a Metallica show to end with Seek and Destroy, but this was probably a once-in-a-lifetime surreal experience. When else am I going to sing such a universal, tame song with thousands of people at the end of a heavy metal concert?

So, it was a fun night. Downstairs, the bouncer outside a bar stopped one member of our group from going in. “You've had enough.” was all the guy said to him. My friend stepped up, expecting an argument, and asked if he could go in to get his wife and her friend, who were seated a few feet away. “Yeah, go ahead, go get whoever you want,” said the bouncer, as though it were a non-issue. As several other people walked in without any problems, the banned guy stood with a look of disbelief and confusion. We couldn't figure out what it was about him that made the bouncer keep him out but let everyone else in. It was very odd, and a source for many jokes on the train ride home. I dozed a bit, and though there was talk of hitting another bar when we got back, everybody was tired and we soon went our separate ways. I was glad to have Monday off to recuperate, even if the sound of my old man with a leaf blower soon had me out of bed.

Metallica didn't disappoint. I might wait a while before seeing them again, since the shows were so similar. If another album comes out that I like, I'd definitely go, or if enough time passes that they switch up their set list a bit. My mom never liked that kind of music, always complaining that it “glorifies death”. She also asks if any bats' heads were bitten off or if people drank a bucket of saliva. I think she's thinking of Ozzy, and I'm not sure if any of that stuff happened or if it was urban legend. And while I found myself chanting “DIE! DIE! DIE!” with thousands of people during Creeeping Death, it occurred to me that, if anything, a rock concert is a celebration of life. Here are these guys in their 40s and 50s running back and forth on stage, playing and singing to the fullest extent, to a totally energized crowd. We were all very much alive, and making as much noise as possible to affirm that fact. And when you get past the coffin props and lyrics and look at things that way, suddenly it's very fitting to end the show celebrating someone's birth.

Phantasmic Links 11.16.09

2009-11-16T02:00:00.000-05:00

Feeling my age didn't stop me from ending my weekend seeing Metallica in concert again, and no matter how old you are, you can start your week with PHANTASMIC LINKS:

(1) Since it probably wouldn't be rockin' to begin with, if I ever got a van I could totally see myself decorating it with some of these ‘70s superheroes.

(2) You must listen to this album from an alternate universe in which The Beatles never broke up.

(3) These are some dirty, dirty computers. I'd hate to see what the inside of my computers look like. It's bad enough my transparent keyboard allows me to see that it has just as much hair as my chest now....

(4) We all know that roughly 70% of the Earth's surface is covered by water. Do you know where else you can find water? THE MOON.

(5) The giant robots are invading Montevideo! I'm guessing it's for their advanced digital rendering and editing techniques...

(6) And in the cyborg department, enjoy this gallery of pop culture human machine hybrids.
Hat Tip: J-No.

(7) Click and cleverly solve puzzles to help this rabbit achieve his goals under the light of a Full Moon.

(8) Admit it, how many of you comic book geeks remember Marvel's Swimsuit Issues? I visited that link for the article, which made me nostalgic and cracked me up with its observations, some of which were new to me.

(9) Spider-Man was led away in handcuffs by police this week, breaking the heart of a nearby little girl as well as all of his fans.

(10) Have you ever wondered what Stormtroopers do on their day off?
H.T.: J-No.

(11) In news that will disappoint many yet surprise no one, Dollhouse has been canceled.

(12) The upcoming “Turtles Forever” will combine several incarnations and prove that sometimes, four turtles aren't enough. November 21st can't arrive soon enough.

(13) This movie trailer is Kick-Ass.

(14) Here are some truly agonizing pop culture dilemmas. What would YOU do? What WOULD you do?

(15) What happens when a drunk woman falls on to some subway tracks? The answer just might surprise you...

Have a link to a game, movie, article, or anything else you think might be “phantasmic”? E-mail me and it just might appear in an upcoming PHANTASMIC LINKS!

WWW: Weekend Wrental Wreviews 17

2009-11-15T00:00:00.000-05:00

Let's see what I saw this week for Weekend Wrental Wreviews in my 17th WWW:

1) Cruel Intentions 3:
Unlike Cruel Intentions 2, which was an edited remake of the original, this is a true sequel with one loose connection to the first one(one of the main characters is a cousin of one of the characters from the first movie). Beyond that, it goes into a fairly original plot, though not a very good one, in which a girl goads two guys into a competition with each other, in which they each try to seduce a different girl already committed to someone else. It's another film about bored rich kids with few morals amusing themselves at the expense of others, with one crossing a serious line and managing to be more despicable than the other. It's not a terrible film, nor is it one in which you can root for the stars. The script is pretty bad at times, as is the acting, but ultimately it made me appreciate that I don't deal with people as cruel as those in the film, nor have I in decades. It's the better of the two sequels, but that isn't saying much.

2) Empire:
John Leguizamo heads up the cast as a Bronx drug dealer with ambitions, who makes a deal with a questionable Wall Street guy in an attempt to make a better life for himself. It's his attempt at a Scarface or a Carlito's Way, and while it obviously falls short, it's still a solid film with solid performances, especially by Leguizamo. It's yet another film that makes you realize this comedian who once had his own sketch show is just as good with dramatic acting. Throw in some twists(which the trailer would have ruined had I seen that first), some exciting gun fights, and the always hot Denise Richards, and I'm happy with the results.

3) Brainscan:
This is a film that reminds us just how bad the computer special effects were in the ‘90s, at a time when we were so impressed by them. It makes me wonder how we'll look back on the films of this decade. It's also a film that reminds us why Edward Furlong didn't become the next DiCaprio or even LaBeouf. His “acting” here mainly consists of running around screaming bloody murder in a cracked voice. It's a fun idea though, about a kid playing a video game in which the murders in the game are carried through to real life. There was real potential when he first pops in the disk and plays as a killer from a first person perspective. But this angle is soon abandoned entirely, and then he meets a cartoonish fiend known as the Trickster with a bad mohawk/mullet hairstyle thing, and then since everything seems to be taking place in real life, it's a little confusing why he has to keep putting disks into his system, which by the way didn't have any controllers now that I think about it. I was expecting Brainscan to be the horror version of Gamer, but Furlong was not controlling someone else, as the movie initially implied. In the post-Matrix age, I could see this film getting a decent remake with a better budget. At the very least, it made me nostalgic for the ‘90s and I remembered all the ads for the film I used to see in the backs of my comic books. Or, you could save an hour and a half of your life and just rent eXistenZ instead, a much better take on the whole virtual reality genre.

4) Wild Things 2:
I think I've more than learned my lesson about direct-to-DVD sequels, but the nice thing about bad movies is how little time it takes to review them. I absolutely loved the original Wild Things, and it helped that I hadn't seen a trailer and wasn't spoiled by some of the twists. And once the BIG twist happens in that movie, it's like another hour of turns just when you think you have everything figured out, and then there's this awesome montage during the credits of scenes that fill in the blanks. Wild Things 2 is more or less the same movie with a cast of no names, so there are no surprises. They duplicate one of the more infamously racy scenes from the original, and there's no point in recycling something if you're not going to at least try to improve it somehow. They even include the same gimmick with the scenes in the credits, but honestly they weren't needed for this much simpler plot. It's not the worst DVD sequel I've seen, but that's only because those others were pretty bad. Skip it.

More reviews to follow next week after I've spun a few more discs!

Math Boy

2009-11-14T00:55:00.002-05:00

I haven't watched the latest episode of Stargate: Universe, but I have a pretty good idea what it's about. A stranded group of humans on the far side of the universe, the wrong people in the wrong place at the wrong time, run dangerously low on something, be it food or air or water or power or what have you. In a dark and depressing setting, personalities clash, and moral ambiguity is explored. Do you trust this guy or that guy? Do you trust anyone? Still, one or two characters stand out and I'm sticking with all the character development and establishment of premise, because I feel like it's going somewhere. It's Battlestar Galactica without Cylons, or LOST without a monster or Others. Actually, while the setting is BSG, the flavor is a bit more LOST, even though the latter has a better cast of characters with interesting flashbacks, and didn't need to bring outside antagonists in to the dynamic of these people learning to work together for survival, or clash with one another. So I see the potential in SGU, even if it feels so different from previous series in its franchise.

Dr. Rush is definitely an interesting character, as a scientist we're never sure whether or not to trust. Either he has his own agenda or his ego keeps him from explaining the larger picture to all the morons he's marooned with. Colonel Young is also quickly becoming a memorable character, as he struggles to lead the people while dealing with political pressure from back home on Earth and the “lot of work” he faces whenever he clashes with Rush. So there's definitely an interesting dynamic and power struggle between those two. And in between there's Eli, the self-proclaimed “Math Boy” who was just an ordinary fat kid playing video games until his gifts brought him to Rush's attention, a la The Last Starfighter. He's quite clearly a stand-in for us, the overweight dateless wonders who spend all our time engrossed in video games or serialized dramas targeting geek culture. Sometimes his geek references feel particularly forced, especially a few shoehorned Planet of the Apes references that he almost immediately explains for the very slow or very young members of the audience.

Eli serves as a bridge not only between Rush and Young, as both a regular guy and a genius, but also between the civilians on the ship and the governing military body, since they see him as one of their own with an “in” with the bigwigs. He also has a relationship with the beautiful daughter of a senator, one who seemed considerably less appealing in an episode that showed her jumping in to bed with the prettyboy soldier. In keeping with the LOST parallels, it'd be like Kate hooking up with Sawyer as opposed to Hurley. Mind you, LOST has never to my knowledge suggested anything romantic between Kate and Hurley, but Eli clearly has feelings for Chloe. In the same episode in which she sleeps with the soldier, she seeks comfort from Eli who, being the good friend and nice guy that he is, sucks it up and holds her hand while their ship is plunging in to a sun. So the show kind of sends this mixed message that, yes the slacker geek can have his dreams come true and end up on a real spaceship, but he's still going to be just a friend to the pretty girl. Thanks a lot, show.

I was always a bit of a “math boy” myself growing up. I was a year ahead of everyone else, and it was my easiest class. Homework never felt like homework, but solving puzzles, and of the three hours each night I agonized over my assignments, those first 20 minutes knocking off math problems were my favorite. Then I had to read thick boring history books, where the numbers attached to dates were infinitely less interesting than the ones in my math problems. I managed a near perfect average, and my four year high school math score was precisely 98.6%. And then I majored in art, to the chagrin of my driver's ed instructor who, between the Summer of my Senior year in high school and Freshman year in college, told me I was crazy for not becoming an accountant or something. As a designer, I still deal with numbers every day, and I'm probably obsessively precise. It drives me crazy when I open a document and find someone has made some shape on a page an odd size, like a “square” that's 1.417” x 1.439” inches; how hard is it to make it 1.5” x 1.5”? It doesn't matter that people receiving the final printed advertisements won't know if something is evenly proportioned or positioned at rounded X/Y coordinates; I need to make everything mathematically clean; it's a sickness.

Numbers stay with me, too. I saw earlier that a 3 number lotto drawing was 1-4-4, and immediately thought, “Gross”, which is 12 dozen, or 12 x 12, or 12 squared. The messed up thing is that the only reason this fact has cemented in my brain is because of the cover to Madballs #8 in which that month's variation of the “gross” pun that appeared on the front of every issue took an extremely geeky and mathematical turn, not to mention an educational one. I've already written about the frequency with which I notice the number 333, and 2% is another important figure in my life. Those were the chances of me having a rare intestinal birth defect, and one that made my inverse improbability suddenly measurable: what was 2% for others was 98% certain for me.

And what were the odds of things going wrong for me on a Friday the 13th? I got an e-mail to review some printed samples in someone's cubicle whom I'd never met before, and when I arrived she said, “Garbage pail?”, thinking I was a maintenance guy. At lunch, I walked through wind and mist without an umbrella, testing fate to see if I could walk a mile in either direction before the heavens opened up. While I was waiting to cross the street, a dump truck full of asphalt parked right in my path. In Dunkin' Donuts, I opened what was supposed to be a turkey, cheddar, and bacon wrap to find something spongy and white with moldy green spots. As of last weekend, I've stopped accepting such mistakes as fate, and I brought it immediately back to the counter and asked for what I wanted. I made it back to the office before it rained, and got done with my work in time to catch an early showing of 2012, Roland Emmerich's latest epic disaster movie in which the only thing more unlikely than the disasters are the huge coincidences that allow a diverse cast of characters not only to survive, but to cross each other's paths. On a global scale, this brought a lot of laughs, at least from my seat, but I can't say it wasn't entertaining or that the destruction wasn't well rendered.

Outside, the wind was no strong enough to physically push me, and the mist tickled my face. It's strange that, of all the bad luck I could have had this week, most of it fell on other days, whether it was finding a flat tire on my car or watching the ceiling outside my office burst into flames. I guess, in the end, the only probability I can truly calculate is the improbable, that the least likely thing is most likely to occur, unless I expect the least likely to be likely in which case probability will shift and reinvert. Math Boy or not, there's no simple equation to figure out my odds, at least not one that wouldn't give a physicist a nose bleed.

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