Most Peculiar

so, i was browsing through various webpages, when i noticed that my gmail tab had transformed into my blog tab. i don't know why. there was, as far as i can see, no reason it should have done that.

that was pretty much it.

this line popped in my head the other day: the revolution will not be televised. i feel like i've heard this line everywhere from the time i was little and such. i did a google search of it, and such is not the case. every reference to this line is something that i know nothing about. and yet, it's something i feel confident in saying we all know. apparently it was some poem/song by a guy in the 70s, who was probably a dirty hippy, and that was probably the only thing he said of any cleverness. it was also the name of a documentary about a revolt in bolivia or something. a movie made for hipsters and faux hippies to watch, and then feel good about themselves because they know something about world events, and now they can feel superior about it without actually doing anything. not that i'm any different, but let's be honest: documentaries suck. they're god awful boring (at least the ones that get put in theaters), and the only real reason to watch them is so that you can feel superior to those that choose to spend their money watching things that are actually fun to watch.

i can actually understand, however, why this guy would say this. it makes sense. TV is the grand addiction of americans. it's probably replaced God as the opiate of the people. it drives me nuts. not because i actually think TV is evil. at least not directly. but because people who watch it religiously won't shut the hell up about it. same with people who attend church religiously, or attack church religiously, or really, do anything religiously. i get it. monk, and baseball, and the news, and the cheerleader. fantastic.

anyways, i guess i just wanted to say that the revolution will not be blogged.

The End of Blogging?

So, today is my wedding day. I kind of feel like I should say something about that, but at the same time, what would I say to both the people that check this blog who aren't spam? Chances are, they already know. I kind of feel like that dropping in here to let you know I'll be gone is like receiving a chain letter from someone you haven't talked to in awhile. Retarded.

At any rate, that's the score. In four hours, all my freedoms are belong to her.

A word on blogging: for awhile I did it, and I really enjoyed it, and I did it a lot. One of the big reasons is that I felt like I had things that I wanted to say. Really, it was conversations that I wanted to engage in, and had they been engaged in the real world, I wouldn't have turned to the virtual one. So, when people quit commenting and the conversation I sought dies away, I really don't want to keep doing. More importantly, I met my Shannon, and I'm engaging in all the conversations I wanted to engage in, plus a few that I hadn't thought of. That's one of the big reasons why I snatched her up so quickly. Girls are everywhere. Smart girls are rare. But a smart girl that you can have good conversations with (who aren't taken)? It's rare enough that you're a fool not to take it.

I certainly hope my wedding goes better than my bachelor party. Let me show you those stats:
15 people invited (excluding dad and brother, who were going to be there regardless)
6 people showed
1 person stayed after dinner
2 people actually contacted me and told me why they couldn't come. Also, that 15 was the number of invited who said they'd come.
In percents:
100% invited
40% showed
.0625% stayed after dinner
.125% had a good excuse

So, that's that. I don't know if I'll continue blogging anymore/ever. If I do, I'll probably start on a different blog.

Why Evolution Doesn't Make Sense

So, I don't necessarily understand some things about evolution. Mostly, it seems as though “hardcore” evolutionists turn a blind eye to a lot of stuff that seem to be “go to jail” cards. Things that kind of deliver the proverbial baseball bat to the proverbial skater's knee. Not to say that Christians, or religious people in general for that matter don't also do this, but I'm not talking about them. And many of them actively struggle with the things they don't get.

My first problem is that we suck in small groups. In small groups, we'd be doomed. Which means that in order for men to have any hope of getting out of the wild, a whole damn bunch of us would have had to appear at once, which is unlikely because:

Male primates are known to eat their young. Eat them for any variety of reason. Because they're hungry and the kid's weak, because they suspect it's not theirs, because it looks foreign. How then do we anticipate that a larval human (or half human) sliding out of a woman monkey wouldn't get eaten? It seems unlikely that enough male primates would let a freak of nature like this freakish tale less-thing walk around for very long.

I had a boss defend evolution saying that the reason man had risen to the top was because of our intellect and technology. The problem with this is that those two things take lots of time to cultivate. Mostly, humankind is kind of characterized by a whole bunch of pigs eating in a slop tank, and once a generation, if we're lucky, one or two will happen to look up, and then receive a revelation of some kind. Unfortunately for us human folk, intellect and revelation are semi-sparse for us. So, in order for man to have conquered animals using his intellect, that means he would have had to have come furnished with an intellect, and enough other man animals to be able to use that intellect properly. Sure, one man could make a sling and a spear, but he uses it on a monkey, all he's done is piss that monkey off, which pisses other monkeys off, now he's monkey dinner.

Then there's the physical limitations. Humans suck donkey nuts in comparison to almost every other animal. Are claws are tiny and fragile, our fangs break easily, we can't run that fast, or swim, we can't see that well, or hear stuff, we're not that strong (at least practically), and our piss is weak. No animal would be afraid of our wee wee.

I had a friend say that the only reason I could claim we were so weak was because I'd never seen a person in the wild, where they could shine. I don't care. You can take our best fighter and place it against the most humdrum of baboons or laziest of gazelles, and we still lose in fisticuffs. Muhammad Ali vs. a tiger, Bruce Lee vs. a chimp. No matter what, we just lose. We suck. Our hardware is not up to par with the most average of predators.

Along the lines of hardware is the fact that we lost things that would have been wicked handy. Apart from the sense of smell, fangs, and claws, we also have tales, feet thumbs, and the longer forearms that allow us to lope if we want to. It makes no sense that our ancestors at any point would have quit using things like that. At no point do they cease becoming useful. You would make shoes to accommodate your feet, sheathes to keep your tail warm. Or better yet, fur has served every other mammal just fine for thousands of years, why would prehistoric man buck tradition like that? Why would we ever have lost our fur? It's a complete non sequitur.

And it's not like I feel like I have a complete image of what God is. I don't. I used to feel like I did, but the more I learn, the less I know, but the more I feel convinced that it has to be God (or whatever that ultimate reality is). Evolution just seems like such hope in folly.

A Few Movies I Done Saw

So, mostly, I just wanted to talk about a few movies I'd seen as of late in lieu of real substantial material, of which I've the substantialest of materials planned. But not yet. First...

Oh. And as always, when I talk about movies, I'll assume you've seen it, so there may be spoilers. Sounds like a personal problem.

Charlotte's Web – The live action one. First, let me state that I've never read the book. I've had it read to me, but probably not for 13 years or more. Every year, the teacher would cry when Charlotte died, which left me thinking, “didn't you see this one coming? I did.” I watched the cartoon like a fiend when I was a kid, but I've not been exposed to others in some time. Having said that, the live action one wasn't too bad. Really, my complaints with it are few.

First, I thought they would try to make it all relevant, which blows. Relevant things suck ass. When you take something that's timeless and classic and memorable (Wizard of Oz, Chicken Little, all the Dr. Seuss books) and make them hip and relevant (The Tin Man, Chicken Little, all the Dr. Seuss abominations), you completely sterilize the source material making it lose not only its original charm, but making it uninteresting in general. That's what I thought would happen, through and through, but it only happened in small amounts. Too much focus on Templeton's antics (which were a very small part of the book and the cartoon) and his wisecracking responses. The geese are now wisecracking black stereotypes, and the sheep are now self aware of what a sheep is, and concepts of following, instead of just being a cranky old sheep like in the book. I don't understand why they put self aware self expounding characters in stuff that's targeted for kids. Kids certainly miss it, and adults might only enjoy it as a novelty.

Second, because it's so incredibly not cartoony (which is such a detriment to cartoons), Charlotte is actually a little bit scary in her bulbous eight legged glory. She's gross. Doesn't at all look whimsical like cartoon Charlotte. She was cute. I would like to have her back, k? Thx, bai.

I understand that it's a children's book and such, and a pig makes a much more attractive protagonist than some stupid fly, but the flagrant double standard has always always bugged me.

The last thing is really more a criticism of book, cartoon, and movie. It's something I've never liked and always kind of balked at (yes, even as a small tater Cuyler), and that's the fact that Fern, who is very much the initiating protagonist (she might not be the ultimate protagonist or the heroine, but she gets the whole ball rolling) protests the killing of Wilbur because it's wrong. It's wrong to kill him just because he's small. Then later, it's wrong to kill him and eat him for all of his sweet pork meats (pork is gross. No me gusta), but then later, when Wilbur freaks out because Charlotte eats the fly, he gets scolded saying, “That's just the way things are. You live, and then you die.” The double standard in the book's philosophy has always bugged me. In farm life, the farmer would have been doing the runt pig a mercy. Sure, it's not pretty, and it's not nice, but it's better than letting him slowly starve to death, and then later, of course the farmer will want to kill the pig. That's the whole purpose for having pigs: food. But it's wrong for Wilbur to die because, well, Fern likes him. But flies? Fuck flies. No one cares about them. Also, no one gives a damn about all the other pigs that we can assume got slaughtered, or sold and then slaughtered.

I Am Legend – I've never read the book. My lovely fiancé has, and from what I've heard, it sounds a. gay, b. ridiculous, and c. like they performed a better adaptation of the idea in the movie... mostly.

Let me start off by saying that I Am Legend was a good time. I feel like I got what I paid for. I feel like I saw what I was expecting to see.

Next, let me say that CG “vampires” (really, these things were much more like zombies) look dumb. Why do studios insist on using CG when it looks fake and cartoon like in comparison to real life, when makeup is so much cheaper, convincing, and unsettling to look at. The movie was genuinely scary when I just saw small snippets and hints of zombies. When the random zombie through itself at a speeding car, or you knew they were there because you could hear their breathing. As soon as I saw the actual zombies, the movie just quit being scary.

Second, I hate when people take mysterious things and try to completely explain them scientifically. It goes a long way in cutting short the fantastic, whether that fantastic be wonderful or terrifying. In this movie, the “vampires” (again, wouldn't have guessed they were vampires if someone hadn't told me. I would have said “zombies”) are the product of a cancer cure gone wrong, and they end up developing rabies gone wrong symptoms: fear of water, deadly reaction to sunlight, and of course, they want brains. Er, blood. I meant blood (brains). They are complete animals, just running around snorting, snarling, scratching, biting, want food eat now fire bad. This guy has completely killed all the wonder of vampires by making them this thing. Gone are the legends about virgins, and allowed entry, and garlic, and mirrors. No. They're just animals. Somehow this virus abrogates reason completely, and they just run around like naked wild children.

So, the movie opens up with Will Smith having lived in this dilly of a pickle for three years, which raises a lot of questions in my mind. Since these zombies are essentially just feral people, they show absolutely no recognition of things like conservation of food or storing or agriculture. They just hide during the day, and then eat during the night. They wouldn't last three years. They would have eaten all the brains that were available, human and otherwise, and then been left with the option of eat each other or just die. That doesn't happen. I suppose I should mention that when you become a zombie, you become the owner of superior strength, agility, and speed, despite the fact that you are undoubtedly under nourished.

Another thing is that they're metabolism runs at speeds that shoot through the roof. All the time. Will Smith heavily heavily heavily sedates one of the zombies, and she still breathes as if she just ran a 100 yard dash. If the body is essentially human, just modified by a crazy virus, they wouldn't be able to live like that. Their bodies would have crapped out either from stroke or heart attack, and the zombie problem would be gone.

I guess I just hate how we innately know, whether we believe in such things or not, that things like vampires are supposed to be these supernatural entities, and then when someone tries to curtail it like this author has, it bugs me. It bugs me even more when he doesn't complete the curtailing and take into account common sense things like food and over exertion.

Apparently, in the book, the virus evolves and the “vampires” become intelligent and try to strategically take down Willy. Well, rather, they send one girl to do it. That strikes me as gay on ice. The book sounds so stupid.

So that's pretty much it. I didn't care for the part when the girl showed up, because it became an entirely different movie. Instead of “ol' Willy tries to save humans from vampires,” it becomes (out of left field), “ol' Willy has to rediscover his faith in God, and then things will fix themselves.” Really jarring. Just as jarring as seeing cartoon zombies.

I read somewhere that in one of the initial drafts, Willy comes to the realization that the antidote he's looking for can only come from himself. Some homogenization of vampire blood and regular dude blood. But, he must inject himself with the cure and then allow himself to be ingested by the zombie folk, and then the anti virus spreads in reverse fashion of the initial virus. That sounds bitchin. That's creepy, visceral, and gross. The kind of stuff I would pay to see in a horror/thriller movie. But, wait, it's PG13. Weak.

So, before I move on to the substantialest material, I wanted to talk about The Transformers, finally (despite being 6 months late) and Sweeny Todd. But I'll do that next time. I need to do productive things now.

please leave a message

at the sound of the beep. i will be away from my desk from the hours of 4 am tuesday, january 1st 2008 until january 5 2008 9 am. i will be in new york visiting the family of a certain fiancee, and all times are subject to change, but feel free to leave a message and i will gladly return your call.


until then, please enjoy some humor joke movies.

conversation with elvis



jesus video #1


jesus video #2


jesus video #3


jesus video #4


should auld acquaintance be forgot, keep your eye on that grand old flag (or, "have yourself a big old pig" would also be acceptable lyrics)!

Wall - E

American cartoons have been plagued with the problem of pumping these lame “you can do it” and “small people can do big things too!” and “you're special messages,” and it's really obnoxious. I mean, honestly, who are these for? Are the kids who see these so afflicted with low self esteem that they need a disgruntled chicken and an effeminate pig to boost their spirits? I highly doubt it. When do you see kids play and see them mimic those self esteem affirming little morals? I haven't. Ever, really. In the movie with the hero who has a wise cracking effeminate marmot as a side kick, and they try to save the princess from the villain with the slow witted henchman, kids will mimic the characters and not the values put forth in the movie. That's what I observe. So, like I said, I'm always scratching my head wondering, “who, besides the movie execs, gets their rocks off on these messages?” Kids don't, and parents will if they're as much fun as going to church (not much fun).

Some cartoons do weave their message in subtly and cleverly. Spend any time around me and you'll learn that I'm a big ol' sucker for The Iron Giant. That 'toon rocks some serious balls. It doesn't take its moral and beat you in the face with it over and over. It's subtle and realistic. Mostly, it's just a buddy movie. A boy and his bot. It's Old Yeller, except the dog is 50 feet tall and a former military weapon. It's that formula right there.

I'm bringing all this up because Pixar, for as lauded as they are, falls right into (and in many ways promotes) this cheese ball of crap way of making cartoons. Why not make cartoons that are simply an assload of fun to watch, funny as hell, and really bizarre? Why do we need to preached at through them? And why do we need to sneak our political agendas into them? Gay. Gay on ice at the retard fest.

Sorry about that. Pixar. It's true that I at one time would have said I loved them. If I honestly analyze myself, however, I discover 2 things. 1. I love their shorts (most of them. All of them except for that braindead alien abduction short they played before ratatouille). The shorts are funny, cartoony, and free from hamfisted movie exec morals. 2. I love The Incredibles, which isn't that shocking seeing as how it's the same director as The Iron Giant. The Incredibles sort of tainted my vision, however. It's a mostly complex movie that, in addition to messages (most of which are subtle), it's exciting, it's fun, and it has an impressive body count. SYNDROME GETS SUCKED INTO THE FUGGIN' JET ENGINE! You dont' see that in cartoons anymore. And that's weaksauce.

The Incredibles tainted my vision. It was complex (which is what a movie has to be if it's going to preach at you), and fun, and creative, and stylish. Complex except for the part where Mr. Incredible shouts the whole, “I can't do it!” monologue. That part was like putting the box on the table and saying, “here's your moral, folks, because right after this, they're going to learn to fight as a team!” Apart from that one little moment of retardation, it's good. The rest of their movies? Stereotypical cheesy kidpreach shlock ripped right from Disney (who graced us with this wonderful gift. Thanks, Walt). Everyone of their movies is “you can do big things too!” and “teamwork rocks, lol!” It's depressing. Makes me yearn for the days of yore, ye olde 1991 when I could flip to Nickelodeon and zone out to Rocko's Modern Life and Ren And Stimpy and never have a fear that they're going to try to convince me that God's a woman, and that I'll get to know her by letting my lisping crocodile friend make cookies with me and sharing them with the orphaned spongecakes down the street.

But Wall-E here. This looks cool. Although I doubt it's in Pixar's power to do, this looks like they might just simply tell a quirky and enjoyable sci-fi story. Probably not. They'll probably have Wall-E discover that trash robots can do clean things too! Or something equally lame that you'd learn on a felt board. But I hope not, because look at it!

http://www.apple.com/trailers/disney/walle/large2.html

The trailer is wow. I just hope that the story and the rest of the movie is also wow, and that they haven't just put the parts in here that will appeal to boys to sell tickets.

We'll see. If nothing else, it's a bitchin' trailer.

"Up From the Ashes" or "What It Is?"

It feels weird being gone this long and coming back to blogging. It's not that I intentionally stayed away that long. It never is. Life just kind of catches up with you and can take you on some crazy roads you never really intended to go on. Not that I complain. Not at all. They can be some of the most fantastic roads.

Nevertheless I kind of feel like when you haven't seen a really good friend in a long time and the only thing you can really talk about is work even though neither of you have much interest in work, much less your work (mine is selling paper for the record).

Therefore, before I can try to get back to the meat of my personal existence, I kind of feel as though I have to warm up a forgotten but friendly and familiar car. I'll meet you half way. We won't talk about work because, really, who wants to talk about work? Not anyone. Not really. So, I will talk about what I've been reading, as I have been doing a lot of that lately and that's one of the things that have kept me away for so long.

“Real Books”

The Planets (Dava Sobel) – So, ever since I was a kid, I've been endlessly fascinated by the stars, which is probably pretty evident throughout the course of this blog. This book is about the planets in particular, and the role they play in human society. It's incredibly fascinating. She links each planet to some concept in human existence and how this concept has effected us. For example, she links Mercury to mythology explaining how a lot of our ancestor's understanding of the planets came from their stories about the characters from which the planets are named. Jupiter is explained via astrology, citing its own zodiac symbol, and how its zodiac is shared with the man who discovered Jupiter's moon and its spot, and how the characteristics of this planet's influence in the zodiac seemed to control exactly this man's life. Names escape me, which is lame. Mars is linked with sci-fi (of course). At any rate, this book was a damn fuggin' hoot, and I didn't want to quit reading it and thought about it compulsively when I wasn't reading it.

I Am America (And so Can You!) (Stephen Colbert) – Holy crap is Steve a funny guy. This book is so bizarre and out there. Essentially, Stephen kind of creates this really impossible straw man of the “typical American's” belief. No one could actually believe this, but he draws the stereotypes of how others perceive us and draws it all the way out to fifteen. He takes different “hot button” topics and explains them from his goofy “every man” point of view. Topics such as homosexuality, religion, and sexuality and just annihilates them. This book had me laughing out loud and reading parts to everyone I could. Every chapter starts with the heading of the chapter (homosexuality for example), and says it's the biggest threat facing America currently, besides two other ridiculous concepts. Example “Homosexuality is the greatest threat facing America today, next to hippies and tight pants.” (that one's not actually in the book, but the book is way downstairs, and no way am I walking that far). A hilarious read, plus it comes with stickers.

Opus vol. 1 (Barry Windsor-Smith) – In the 70s, Marvel Comics hired a young English illustrator (Barry Windsor) and this artist became known for illustrating the Conan book. To say that his artwork is inspiring is an understatement, at the very least. The guy is a true master of his craft and is able to breath a sort of artistic life and empathy into such nerdy concepts like Conan. Anyway, that's not exactly the point of this book. Barry, in the late 90s found himself with a lot of finished but unpublished artwork, and though it sounds narcissistic, I truly get the impression that he is genuinely interested in making a good product for his fans. Anyways, he wanted to get this art to his fans, but struggled with a way to do it. Originally, he took the art and tried to write stories around them, but he complained that they felt patronizing and trite. Instead, he just released the art in a book and explained it – how he made it, symbols with in it, what prompted him to make it both commercially, personally, and creatively. Which I love. I love hearing the process that goes on behind the art (whether it be music, movie, or paper based art). Not the “how to,” not the, “I used lemon yellow and mixed with canary yellow to get this color gold,” but the, “Gold has always represented eternal life for me, which is why the hero's sword is gold,” sort of stuff. You get that. You also get some trippy LSD sounding voyages through space. Barry Windsor, in an attempt to explain himself and his art to his fans has included mind boggling accounts of cosmic experiences he promises are, at the very least, profound personal truths. Things like watching millions of universes live and die in front of him, moments of precognition, and unidentified light phenomenon. It's so... abstract that the mind almost reels at it. He promises that he's never tried drugs or mind altering substances, but these are just things that have happened to him. It sounds so unbelievable, but having no reason to doubt his earnestness, I sort of have to accept that these are in fact things he's experienced (especially since things I have experienced seem to be but shadows of his own). It's hard to reconcile with your own worldview, but it's foolish to discount them because you can't explain it. Plus, it's compelling as hell.

“Fake Books”

I've also been reading a fair deal of graphic novels. These are mostly for pure enjoyment's sake, but some of them are kind of provoking and cause you to take pause while you digest its tale. These are the ones that I've enjoyed the most in past months.

The Eternals (Neil Gaiman (writer), Joe Quesada (art)) – The Eternals is really damn cool. Essentially, life was seeded on this planet however many thousands of years ago by beings called The Cellestials. These beings are miles tall, and infinitely powerful and incomprehensible. In addition to the animals and plants, they created humans, eternals, and the deviants (I think that's their name). Humans are humans, eternals are never dying humanesque people of impressive power and intellect charged with the duty of educating and protecting humanity. The deviants are genetic roulette tables, each generation drastically different from the one before it, and no 2 ever looking alike. In our remote past, the deviants multiplied at unfathomable rates, and the eternals (of which there are only 100) took war to their front door step (mostly because the deviants were enslaving/destroying humans). The eternals, while never in danger of truly losing, are overwhelmed by their numbers and have to have the cellestials step in for them. The deviants are brought to the edge of extinction, and humanity is allowed to thrive. Fast forward to modern times, and the eternals (through a nefarious plot of one of their own) have forgotten who they are, except for a few. Those few are trying to rise the eternals up to stop an evil plan of the deviants, who seek revenge for almost being destroyed however many thousands of years ago. It was so fun to read. Just like watching good sci-fi. It's good fantasy fuel for those that want it.

The other cool thing about this particular book is that it was an idea thought up almost 40 years ago by comic legend and icon Jack Kirby. Kirby was Marvel's top do artist (and for good reason, as he rocks balls), and thought up the idea of the eternals just after reading Chariot of the Gods? He created the original tale, but said that his was only one view in what he perceived to be a complex tapestry that he created, and invited others to rework his fiction in other compelling formats. Gaiman (who would have been a boy when Kirby was active) saw that invitation for action and grabbed at it. Thus, he weaved his own enthralling tale.

Lastly, Quesada (not that this means much to people) drew the book in the signature Kirby style. Rather, he hybridized it with his own art, but everything about the book is supposed to be a massive tribute to Kirby. So much fun and it holds so much nostalgia for anyone that's bought a Marvel mag off of the newsstand or off of a comic book shop shelf.

Civil War (Marvel... again) – This one, I don't know who wrote it or who drew it. The art's really damn good, as in, in every shot of Captain America, this artist draws each individual scale in Cap's armor.

At any rate, it's not historical Civil War. Rather, in this tale, the US government (after a rogue mutant attack) decides that they need to crack down on masked vigilantes. They make them either quit, or unmask themselves and work for the government. This divides the heroes, and some play along (like Iron Man and Spider Man. Tools), and some form a resistance (led by Captain America. Badass). This was pure popcorn fun, and nothing else. Again, if anyone here has ever been a fan of Marvel, this is a book that you need to be all over like a cheap suit. Unfortunately, the Civil War spin offs are dumb as hell. Most of them have terrible art work that make them seem completely unworthy of reading, and the two I did pick up (Wolverin and the X-Men) were really lame and shallow. While the core Civil War story is pure popcorn fun, it certainly isn't shallow. It really plays off of the personalities and characters that Marvel has spent the last 50 years forging. Damn fun.

So that's pretty much it. Kind of a nice ice breaker, yeah? No? Right now, I'm reading Until We Have Faces, and The History of God. Almost done with faces, and just started God this morning. Faces is good (real good), and it's surprising because all the other fiction of Lewis's that I'd been exposed to pretty well sucked (in my mind. I know there's plenty that disagree, but whatever). And then reading the beliefs of our ancient ancestor's always feels like a disembodying sort of thing. It's interesting, and I can't wait to get into it.

I will leave on this one note of substance: it's true. I am engaged to the knitting girl (catwings.blogspot.com). I'm excited, and happy, and mildly terrified all at once. It'll be good though. Real good. I think I'll come back to that later though. I need to shower.

I Just Got Your Call

So, if you haven't noticed, I haven't blogged for awhile. So much has changed, it's difficult to know where to start. What kind of things have changed you might wonder.

Well, for instance, I just got a new 320 gig hard drive. An external one. I've needed one for several months to store duplicates of my legally (read: legally) gotten music, and my questionably legally gotten video wares, such as The Maxx, Clone High, various Rocko Modern Lifes, and music videos. Oh, I've also got two (legally) bootleg (which I guess disqualifies them for being bootlegs) concert DVDs. Colonel Claypool's Bucket of Bernie Brains, and a Buckethead concert. There's also Pirates of Dark Water. All in all, about 60 gigs worth of stuff. This external drive was a screaming deal too. 100 dollars. Now my physical hard drive has all kinds of space on it, which is pretty righteous.

So there's that. I also have a wireless network. That's pretty rad. No more stupid wires. It seems that it's a wire's job to interfere in the business of a man.

I also ditched my old crappy computer chair. That thing was seriously done for.

Yes sir. Lots of changes. What else?

Arthur of Pipes and Pints fame now wishes to be called Loretta for reasons that he'll fill you in on when he feels comfortable with his life's decisions. Do not envy that guy, no sirree.

I feel like I'm forgetting something. Oh wait, I remember. I discovered a new beer by Wisconsin brewery super heroes Leinenkugel. In particular, I'm a big fan of the Berry Weiss.

But I still feel like I'm forgetting something.

Oh, right. I got a condo with my buddy Robert. There's that. That's a pretty sweet deal right there, having to accommodate his ugly mug on a near daily basis. I've taken up eating Tums like candy just to get through my days.

And of course, how could I forget her. She knits, to quote a friend of mine, "Like a motherfucker. Which she's not, because that would be incest. And that would be incestulicious, which is bad." This is probably the coolest part of all these differences. Some beautiful girl looked upon me and took pity in my forlorn state. That or she has some sort of penchant for physical gags played on us by the natural world. Like looking at train wrecks or really ugly dogs.

And I've adopted this habit of giving these really long circuitous "Robert style" answers, in which I elude to many different things, but never actually say anything. So perhaps I should clarify: I met this girl (who shall be called Shannon, mostly because that's her name), and we kept remeeting, and haven't quit yet. You might call them dates.

At any rate, I haven't been around much because, well, I've been busy. Busy and internetless for a given period of time. But seriously, we should hang out sometime, and I'm not just saying that. I have your number, and you have mine. Seriously. Maybe we'll get some lunch or see a movie or something.

But Friday's no good for me.

If It's Any Constellation

I've always had an extreme fascination with things cosmic. Before I was fascinated by anything else, I was fascinated by stars. All things cosmic: planets, stars, galaxies, black holes, event horizons, worm holes, and white holes, everything in space that exists or could possibly exist.

Well, this isn't entirely true. I was incredibly fascinated by dinosaurs, but when I learned they didn't exist anymore (in theory – at least in quantities accessible enough to study), it was difficult for me to keep my interest piqued. And then, when the evolutionists told me that birds used to be dinosaurs, the deal was sealed. It would be too hard for me to maintain an interest in something that isn't even observable in any way, and that people were trying to convince me became a bird.

The interest with dinosaurs never completely vanished. I still eat them up and think they're totally rad, but my interest in cosmic things is far more prevalent. This interest expresses itself in my thirst for sci-fi, space documentaries, wanting to know about the theoretical sciences, and simple stargazing. I even remember the very first time I stargazed. It was in Bailey, Colorado, a place way the hell up there in the mountains free from city lights. Perfect for stargazing. I lived with my mom, my quadriplegic grandpa, and my aunt. My aunt and I took a walk to the end of our dirt road street to the mailboxes so that something could be sent off for the next day. My aunt pointed up in the sky and said, “You can see the milky way,” and holy crap was she right. In all my attempts at stargazing, successful and otherwise, I have never seen such a clear picture of the milky way. It was a shock of white smeared through the center of the night sky, points of glitter sticking out. I was awestruck. In my (at this point) five years of life, I had never thought to simply look up. I looked up, and haven't quit.

So, in sixth grade, I was so in love with astronomy that I was devouring any little bit about it I could. The best part of outdoor lab (a week long “wilderness survival” exercise for sixth grade kids for those not in the know) was the Mt. Evans Observatory, the mock Stonehenge, the small scale planetarium, the stargazing. I was dumbfounded by looking at the sun through a filtered lens on a telescope. I even got invited back in the summer (as this was a winter activity) to a special camp totally dedicated to just astronomy. That exists in my history as one of the best weeks of my life.

One memory in particular stands out. We hiked 2 or so miles behind the Mt. Evans facility to a large cabin in the middle of a giant meadow. Our goal was to watch Jupiter's satellites (Jupiter's always held a point of particular fascination. And Mars. They probably do for every true sci-fi fan) Europa and Callisto (I think) swing around the front side of the planet. Something that happened very rarely, given the disparate orbital patterns of the two bodies. As a bonus, they were swinging around in front of the Great Red Spot. Only four of us (including two of the instructors) got up at four in the morning to watch this, and as if two satellites and a red spot weren't enough, I happened to witness the brightest meteor I had ever seen in my life shoot over the mountains standing right behind me. It was a total stereotypical shooting star: it even had the generic star shape preceding the rainbow infused tail. It lit up the entire field.

I even thought about astronomy as a career once. That idea quickly faded to the background when I hit high school and I convinced myself that I wanted to be other things. Then I learned that I'm lame at physics, and I accepted (gladly) that, at most, astronomy would be a hobby.

So what does all of this have to do with anything? Well, occasionally, I get a strong jonesin' for some stargazing. In fact, if I ever attend a “worship service” or something equally God awful at night, when everyone else is singing whatever tripe they gotta sing, I head outside, find a nice patch of grass, and see something far more awe inspiring and deserving of attention than lame wad songs.

So, a couple of weeks ago, I tried to find Orion. I couldn't. I couldn't see him. I realized a vast reservoir of my astro-knowledge had been drained. I couldn't find Orion, and I couldn't remember if it's because he's not visible in this hemisphere at this time of year, or if I was looking in the wrong patch of sky. But he's always been visible, hasn't he? I could have sworn I'd always been able to look to the south and see him. And then I can't remember if that's Mars or Jupiter I'm looking at. That one's Venus... think. And maybe it's just all the light noise down here.

So the jones hit really hard, but gay on ice terrestrial matters prevented me from hitting the mountains to catch Orion, the Dippers, the Pleiades, Scorpio, Cassiopeia, Betelgeuse, Moon, The Twins, and as many other constellations as I could absorb. Last night, I wanted to go, kind of a lot. I didn't because I was with friends, and I feel uncomfortable with my celestial fascination around others. I could probably spend a couple of hours just... staring, and most people can't.

So, last night at two, or rather this morning, I thought I'd try to satisfy it. I went to an area that I thought was secluded enough, but there was still too much noise to be able to see clearly. It was so late that I decided I should just go home and try the next night, perhaps. So, I drove back, struggling to see constellations, and I was frustrated because I used to be able to look at the sky and just see these shapes that so fascinated all of our ancestors. I couldn't. So, I cranked the radio (Smashing Pumpkins – Zeitgeist) and just drove home.

As I crested the hill on 112^th and Wadsworth (ish) a saw a simple unassuming shooting star. A tiny white strike that sliced through some black for the briefest of instants. But it was enough. I couldn't find Orion, or Betelgeuse, and I couldn't remember if it was Mars or Jupiter I was seeing, but at least I saw some kind of heavenly action.

My jones wasn't fixed, and my thirst wasn't slaked, but at least last night at 2:14 in the morning wasn't a wash, and it might even be some sort of stretch, but it can't help but make me feel like possibly my search was paid off in the form of some small reward, as if someone was watching me, and gave me just enough to make me feel like what I did was worth it.

The Movies We Watch: Sunshine

First, a trailer you must watch.

Then I must tell you what I've seen.

Sunshine is indescribable. I don't even know how I could tell you about this movie, recommend this movie, without telling you about it. Anything I tell you will ruin it.

It captures this amazing sense of profound solitude and loneliness. Almost the whole movie takes place aboard a ship that we get to see maybe 8 rooms of, none all that large. We see space, and we see Sol, and it feels empty. The sound is large and hollow, space is quiet. The music changes from sweet violins and trumpets to tribal drums, feedback, and static. You can feel the sanity skewing isolation that covers outer space. You truly feel alone watching it. There is only you and the 7 member crew.

The movie has one of the single most scary effects I've seen in a movie, ever. Every time it made my skin crawl just a little bit more, and I missed it the first two times. Parts of this movie had me squirming in my seat, pushing myself away from the screen and into the cushion.

The villain, the saboteur, is portrayed in a way that just breeds panic and confusion. Much like the old sci-fi of the low budget 50s, we never get to see him. The terror, and it's terror, is psychological. None of it visceral.

The story itself is lean. It's methodical. Every step it takes it takes for a reason, never taking more steps than it has to, but never skipping one. It's slow, it's methodical, it's packed, and it almost feels like too much. It steps right to that threshold then looks down before resting.

So, this is probably one of the more disjointed things I've ever written, especially when it comes to movie reviews. That's due in part to the fact that it's late and I'm tired, in part to the fact that the movie hasn't settled yet and I'm still excited over it, and partly due to my catharsis.

The Greeks said that in any good play, by the end, the audience should have experienced a catharsis. They themselves should have experienced the same roller coaster of emotions as the players, and at the end, have a feeling of emptiness and satisfaction. I felt both empty and satisfied.

[emo] Why Are You Being an Asshole To Me Right Now? [/emo]

That was a question asked of me tonight by a friend.

How do you react to that? While I don't know how I should have reacted, I know how I did react. I'll be honest. It kind of hurt. Kind of a lot. Thing is, I didn't realize I was being an “asshole.” I still don't know if I was. I thought I was just joking around and being me.

Which raises the possibility that I'm just an asshole. Which sucks. A lot. I wish I could put words to what exactly it is I'm feeling, but I just feel really... shot. It's probably even one of those things that someone just says without thinking too, which makes it worse.

Then there's the possibility that I'm just being really emo about it because it's so early in the morning.

But I don't think it's that. It's sort of a concern I've always had, that I'd cross the line from... whatever I was (maybe sarcastic and gregarious in some way)... into some kind of asshole.

Fuck.

Another Reason Why I Hate TRUTH

http://www.milk-off.com/

Because somehow, beating virtual scary "big tobacco man" in a virtual teat milking race, and then having his cow fart on him proves that second hand smoke is bad. I'm convinced. I quit smoking, effective immediately.

This One's for the Hippies

This movie will succeed where that other sci-fi horror flick "An Inconvenient Truth" failed.



Why? Because it has a beloved celebrity, Leonardo DiCaprio. Seriously, that is the American's method of determining the truth, urgency, and validity of something: does it have someone famous in it? And is it because they're an actor or a singer? Then sumbuck, it's gotta be true.

So, I always hear this jibber jabber about global warming and how it's essentially this boogeyman in my closet waiting to sabotage my life: steal my children, rape my wife, and leave me inches from death in a ditch. It very well might be. I mean, they claim all of this is based on hard documented scientific evidence, who am I to doubt them?

But then on the other side, the "other side" being the bad guys should you subscribe to this global warming philosophy. Just keeping things straight for us. Y'know: accessible. But then on the other side, global warming is a big fat stupid stinking myth, which would sound ludicrous in light of the evidence provided by the good guys, except they also believe this because of all their crazy hard documented scientific evidence. Now, I'm no philosopher, but I play one on TV. I also took "Intro to Logic" my first year at Red Rocks. Granted, I kind of flirted with sleep in that class and didn't pay much attention, but one thing I do remember is that you can't have two mutually exclusive statements (such as stating A and NOT A) that are both true (in this case, global warming's gonna fuxxor you up big time, and global warming's a farce). FYI, there's a theory circulating that Antarctica just recently froze over because of this map and others like it. Like, recently as in the last 5-700 years. There's another map like this, only older, and viking I believe, but damn if it ain't harder to find.

Both sides stake their claim and hold their position while the rest of us, the everyday Joe, has to pick a side in this political jihad and hope to dear sweet baby Jesus (just born, 6 pounds, 9 ounces, his chubby little hand balled up into a fist holding his blanket) that we've picked the right side. If we were to be honest with ourselves, however, we would have to admit that we're just going on faith. We haven't conducted this science, very few of us have the resources to be able to, and even fewer ever will. We can recite the hidden mantras our various yogis, preachers, and imams (speaking pejoratively) have taught us, but ultimately, they're just little jingos we're taught when our side is under attack, but do nothing really, because for every jingo, there will be an anti-jingo.

My proposed solution?

Well, let me submit this before the panel and have them review it. Upon reviewing it, they can get back to me and let me know what they think. But I would submit that these two sides, the good side and the bad side, or the oppressor and the underdog, however you want to slice it. How about Truth and Big Tobacco? Because that's like reason and religion: natural enemies. I digress. I would submit that these two sides, the so called good guys and bad guys, democrats and republicans, get together TOGETHER, sit down, and figure this thing out. Compare the notes and come to a definitive answer. Then they, bearing this newly lighted truth of reason, can spread the flame and bring me, the average Joe, the fruitful forbearance of their long deliberation and reasoned consternation and tell me what it is I must do to stop this, or that I can stop worrying (not that I'm very prone to worrying). And then, and this is equally important, the two sides must apologize. Either the self proclaimed "good guys" (democrats) will apologize for being a bunch of nancies fidgeting nervously with their apron strings about the burglar in the house when really it's just their cat, or the dubbed (by the good guys) "bad guys" (republicans) will come out and say, "Look, we kept this from you because, well, honestly you average Joes are retarded, and we've seen the way you act, and honestly, we have a hard time telling if we're watching human beings engaged in commerce (the buying and selling of goods and services), romance, philosophy, religion, and politics... or if somehow we left the station tuned to animal planet and we've been watching a bunch of redass baboons fuxxor'in eachother up. Sorry for being douchebags."

If these two sides were to do this, I would loudly proclaim forth: "It's ok you nancies! You can't help that you've got that sand in your hoo hoo, but now that you've been forced to see your darker selves in the Mirror of Unmitigated Truth, fold up that apron, put away the ironing board, put on something fancy, and let's go to town! I'mma treat you to some McDonald's, for this night our worries are vanished!" To the other side I would proclaim: "I actually agree with you. Watching us from the ground level is a frustrating experience, and I often can't tell where the person ends and the computer begins (as I type my blog on the internet), or at what point we stop thinking with our wing wongs and vajayjays, and use our brains and our minds. That aside, you could have at least told me. You know I'm good for it."

And then perhaps America could stop being the land of idiots we've become, the people would regain their vision, and American society would experience a renaissance of startling brilliance. We'd see the truth of George Washington's words when he said that a two party system would destroy this country (shortly before registering as a Whig), and we would reach unprecedented heights, doing those things we wished and proclaiming boldly all the while.

I'm just kidding. Having two political parties that argue back and forth like bad parents rocks. Dad comes home smelling like beer, Mom disappears for a week at a time, they alternate blaming and claiming us. It's fun. I wouldn't trade it for anything. Especially a functional family metaphor.

I'm Tired of Feeling Alone

Me too.

The Meaninglessness of Truth and Other Just Desserts

So, this one’s probably just a quick one. There’s not too much in it. It’s a little thought I had while sitting around at work doing a whole lot of nothing.

I can’t even tell you what sparked this thought, only that I had it. If I were to guess, I think I was just merely imagining existence without God. I do this sometimes. Imagine that God never was, yet somehow we are, and then see if I can see ways in which our world would be different. Things that would be different. Or I’ll imagine that all of a sudden science (the natural enemy of God) disproves his existence (much to God’s dismay), and I think that’s what I was doing today. That sounds about right.

So I thought about science disproving God’s entirety and what this does to truth. This might be similar to other arguments given/heard, but hear me out, and then tell me what you think.

So I thought about science disproving God’s entirety and what this does to truth, and I came to the conclusion that it becomes completely extraneous. Not that it becomes relative, or that truth is an evolutionary construct. No. It just stops mattering.

Think on this. What is truth? Truth would be laws, statements, facts that God has put forth saying, “These are kind of like what I’m like.” So what happens when we memorize these little facts, statements, and laws? We become closer to what God is like. We move closer to how He is. If God puts down a statement like, “give to him that asks of you,” this statement would reflect something of who God is. If I, hearing this statement, then give to him who asks of me, then I’ve moved a little closer to what it’s like to be God.

If God says that he is the only God, and I quit believing in false Gods, then I see him more clearly, I can become like him more easily.

So, science has disproved God. That is our greatest truth. What is gained in doing that? Nothing really. Sure, I can feel good about myself and Lord it over some brain dead simpleton that still believes in ridiculous God myths. Why can’t all these human stink beasts be as highly elevated as me?

But much like the man that gives in the temple proclaiming his gift, I’ve received my reward. My reward is simply getting to feel superior to others at most. And what good is that when you die? The achievement disappears.

Being like God, however, comes with a massive post-mortem retirement package. A pretty shiny one.

What about things like beauty? If beauty is just simply some evolutionary knee-jerk reaction, does it matter? Is there any value in saying “this painting is beautiful” instead of “mass genocide is beautiful”? I would really begin to question it.

I guess what I’m ultimately trying to say here is if we define our parameters, how big are they really? And are they worth achieving? If the parameters expire the same time we do, why have them at all? But, if the parameters exist outside of ourselves, can you imagine what it would be like to achieve?

And I Forgot To Mention

That I have a podcast now. A couple of my friends and I decided to try this podcast thing out.

Check it out here.

A Most Troubling Dream Indeed

So this one's short, and somewhat shocking.

So, if you have a sensitive palate, exercise caution.

All through high school (and even a recurring dream as a child), there was a blond girl that I dreamed about constantly. No one I actually knew, but she was more symbolic. My guess is that she's my idealized version of love, acceptance and sexuality something. Though the dreams have all been really tame.

Mostly, in these dreams, it's the two of us hanging out and doing general stuff. This dream was weird to the max, however.

The two of us were sitting there with a few other people. The other people looked a little out of it. They didn't seem to really acknowledge that we were there at any point.

The girl and I are sitting across from each other on the floor, and she takes out a really crazy sharp strand of steel, or something like it, and tells me, “I have to cut your face off.” This, understandably and expectedly, upsets me. She tries to console me with, “but it's ok, because I'll sauter it back on later.” I protested still. So then she says, and I quote, “You have to have your face cut off and reattached. You'll do it if you love me.” And I loved her.

So she takes the string, and starts to run it down my face. Actually, a straight line running up and down at my temples, and cuts off that whole section. She started at my jaw.

It didn't hurt, but I was very scared, and I watched pieces of my face fall on the floor until she got to my eyes, then I couldn't see anything.

I was very terrified, and I could hear what was going on around me, but I couldn't talk. This girl (who has never had a name) was trying to soothe me, and I heard a crackling noise and she assured me it was just the sautering iron firing up and everything would be over soon.

I felt her hands on my face, and I felt the heat of the gun, though again it didn't hurt, and I could finally see again (as she'd reattached my eyes), and I watched as she reattached my jaw and nose and lips and such. Then she showed me a mirror, warned me not to talk for a couple of hours until the sautering held fast, and said that I would have those scars forever now, that these scars were her scars.

And then I woke up.

Is there an interpreter in the house?

Since 4:30 This Morning

Woke up at 4:30. Fretting about a house (condo) I'm looking to buy. Why would I fret you ask? Because I was worried that if my roommate friend who's moving in with me ever moved out, I'd be stuck paying on a mortgage that's way to high to pay on my current income. I laid in bed for about a half hour sort of just worrying about it. Then I got up and went to my computer to do some math on the topic.

And that's when I found the good news. I had been worrying about this condo thing (because it's a sweet condo, and a bargain price) since about 7 last night, nursing a little ball of worry in my stomach. Then I found that with my friend living there, buying this condo, with the monthly HOA fee, is only slightly more than apartment living. Sweet. Even better? If for some reason I was stranded for a few months with no roomie, I would be able to make it. It'd be tight, but I'd make it.

Such a relief.

So after I did the math, and sent an email on the topic, it was then 6. I figured I had better get to bed if I didn't want to die. I went to bed, about to drift off, then 6:30 hits and I had to pee really bad (thanks bladder for being a total douche). Get back to bed and lay there for about 20 minutes, not actually going to sleep or even really closing my eyes when I realized that I probably wasn't going back to sleep, and at this point, if I did fall asleep, I'd probably wake up feeling worse than if I hadn't.

So I've been up for 3 hours now, which is weird to say since it's only 7:30, and I went to bed at 12:15ish. I mostly hope that I can make it through work.

Since I've been up, I've been trying to catch up on my blogs on my rss reader. One of the things I did was take a “how texan are you?” test. The results are stupid. It says I'm 16% texan. I would submit that I am actually 0% texan.

Questions like, “you would never eat a cowpie.” I defy you to find one person, Texan or otherwise, that would say they would eat a cowpie.

And, “you leanred to shoot a gun before you learned to drive.” Chances are, unless your parents are some sort of commie hippies, you've learned to shoot a gun in your childhood. After all, hunting and range shooting, both things a father would do with his son, aren't locationally bound.

“You use the AC 12 months a year.” Would if I had that option because I like cold, but Colorado just isn't cold enough sometimes. Remember that winter 2 years ago when it snowed once for about a half hour? That was a freakin' ridiculously hot winter. I protest it.

The last one was, “you don't find anything wrong with tacos for breakfast.” Honestly, what person could ever find a good logical backing that you “should or shouldn't” have this or that food for breakfast?

A lot of the questions were uniquely and obnoxiously Texan, however. Like, “Dr. Pepper is your favorite kind of 'coke.'” and I've heard this before that in Texas all pop is just referred to as “coke.” That's pretty asinine.

There was another test I took, that I can't find now, labeled “how right or left brained are you?” The test itself wasn't too bad. I had some generic flaws that all those style tests have. For example, “when making a decision, I rely on: a. logic b. intuition.” What makes people assume they're opposites? Can't you use both? I sure do. With this house deal, in fact. I felt bad, just inexplicably, illogically bad, which caused me to seek out a practical logical solution. Or how about love? There's an institution absolutely riddled with intuition and logic.

Then it gave me the results. It said I'm 45% left and 55% right. Almost fitty-fitty, which I had mostly guessed anyways. But then it described the two halves. It said left brain people prefer dogs, and right brain people prefer sports. Right, because when I think of an award winning poet, I think of baseball, and when I think of Einstein, I think of pit bulls.

Weak.

So, to sum it up, it looks very likely that I'll be havin' a flibbidy flop of my very own. And I'll be tired later today.

The Movies We Watch: Doggy Poo

So, before I say anything about the movie, you have to watch the trailer.


Now that you see what I'll be talking about, I can talk about it.

Doggy Poo. Korean made in 2003. Claymation.


First, it's pretty weird. Not that there's anything really weird in it (I mean, apart from anthropomorphic doodoo, something South Park fans should be well accustomed to), or that this movie's execution is particularly weird. It's pretty standard fair as far as message and execution goes. The plot boils down to "child doubts self worth, child encounters people that reassure him of self worth and God's plan, child experiences his potential, and every thing's better." But then you factor in that the child is a doggy poo, and some of the characters he encounters are a talking pile of fertilized soil, a chicken who planned on eating him ("he doesn't taste good anyways momma"), and then your standard fair of flowers and birds. That's where it's weird.

Second, it's very artistic. This is truly a beautiful movie to behold. Doggy Poo is old school style clay animation, the likes of which only Aardman studios (Wallace and Gromit) utilize in this day. The set they use is vibrant and full of natural color, textures that are gritty and realistic, and very convincing mouth synch. Each character's mouth (or rather type. I.e. dirt vs. animal vs. plant) possesses quirks specific to that character, and the lips wrap around the words.

Which are in English. The words that is. "But I thought this movie was Korean?" you might cry forth in confusion, to which I would answer, "Yes, my son. Yes. Such as I have said is such as I have thought." And then my proverbial son might cry forth in a voice of honest seeking, "But pappa! Why?" (or for our bilingual friends), "¡Porque!" I have only one possible answer to this honest agnostic style search for truth.

Have you heard of the Little Donnie Foundation? Now, before you get too clicky, let me let you know what you're getting yourself into.

In the show "The Upright Citizens Brigade," a trio of havoc-wreckers set to undermine society set out to pull a prank on a nation wide scale. The answer to their query? A 30 minute long penis joke in the guise of something serious. Ergo, Little Donnie who is afflicted with a fictional disease where his wing wong is really long, but he has no idea. As any responsible citizen would, the brigade sets up a show to raise awareness and funds for Donnie's disease.

I sort of felt like that's what Doggy Poo is. Picture that at the "Internation Counsel of Nations Against America," or ICNAA as we on the street call them, the French say, "I think the Americans are so dumb, we can sell them water in a bottle while it flows freely from their taps." The Mexicans stand up and say, "¡Ole! ¡The Americans are so dumb, we can sell them the same dish 15 times with different names, same ingredients!" But the brazen Koreans stand and say, "We think the Americans are so dumb that we can make them sit through a 30 minute doodoo joke." The other nations shirk. No man could be so dumb! But they have yet to meet the Americans. We are that dumb, and in fact, we've been enjoying (thanks to the like of South Park and Conker's Bad Fur Day) half hour doo doo jokes long before the Koreans came on the scene. So really, the jokes on them... I guess. Maybe no one wins. And yes, I do owe a nod to Jim Gaffigan for already providing me with the bulk of the joke in this paragraph.

But ultimately, that's what's best about this movie! All the jokes about crap that may or may not have been intended. One of my favorites was turning around to my roommates and exclaiming loudly, "Man! This sh*t's enthralling!"

So thank you Koreans. We have accepted your challenge, and raised your bar. Bring what you will.

In fact INCAA, why don't ya'll bring it?

Don't Hate Us

So, this is something that I've been thinking about for several months now.

I read a book, Entertaining Ourselves To Death, which discussed how the American populace was becoming so engrossed in entertainment that we are making ourselves inane and obsolete. In this book is discussed the fact that America is the ONLY country in the history of the Earth founded by intellectuals. All smart men holding degrees and respectable jobs and the like. These guys were smart and kicked ass. This tradition bled into the people that came and conquered this continent (by the by, this isn't the place to discuss the ethicality of what happened) and America became the number one exporter and importer of the written word. Whether it was ancient philosophy, religious texts, fiction, technical manuals, essays, magazines, brochures and pamphlets, we were reading it. Consuming it.

It sounds so incredible! Can you imagine? The fact that you're reading this blog probably signifies that you read books. You know we're in the minority, right? Roughly 2% of Americans read for reasons other than work and education. Of that 2%, some 80% reads trashy romance novels. Can you imagine walking around where we're the majority? We could sit down with anyone and have a gripping, informed, complex conversation? In fact, even the most voracious of modern readers would have fallen behind the curve of the sort of thought the “ancient American” was capable of. Being immersed in a literary culture like that, your ability to process complex thought naturally rises. Your abilities to retain and retrieve information would have also risen to great degrees.

This book is one of those “thorns in the side” book. A book whose thoughts don't leave you alone. Something you have to chew and mull over. Something that you wish someone else would read so that you could talk about it. In fact, I recommend you read it, and soon, but such is not the aim of this post.

The aim of this post is what happened next. America became obsessed with being entertained. As that obsession increased, our capacity for complex understanding diminished. I mean, just talk to someone, anyone, that you meat in daily life, and they wouldn't be able to tell you why I used the wrong meet earlier in this sentence. Unless you're lucky enough to stumble on that rare 1.2% of the populace (not quite that bad, but you'd struggle to find someone that wouldn't cackle lack a jackass when I explained to them that meat is what you eat, and meet is what you greet).

So what happened?

When America was started, when she was forming herself, she had a vision. A great experimental vision that, if successful, meant something ineffable never before experienced by the world. Was that vision successful? In many ways, yes. Can you imagine a world without the influence of America? Science, technology, mathematics, art, social interactions are all indelibly and forever changed. So many ideals and values that we were afraid to embrace before are now standard vocabulary in the entire world, not just the west.

In many ways, the experiment was successful. But we, the American people, stopped. We stopped dreaming and inventing and pushing and prodding and asking, seeking, and finding. We thought we achieved and it was best to not rock the boat. Let things mellow.

And this is where I arrive at my point.

I don't know how many international readers (if any) I have. I have a request of you.

When I was in Ireland (a place of utter magic. My utmost and sincerest compliments and humblest thanks to the people of Ireland), some of my traveling companions were harassed by a group of men. These men accused them of being warmongers and voting for Bush and yadda yadda. Obviously these guys have never actually taken the time to find out what an American thinks otherwise they'd know that we're far more concerned if the Broncos beat the Raiders than if Iraqi Joe has a job or a gun to his head. Same diff. If these guys had also taken the time to find out what Americans think of our president, they'd know that they'd have to search far and wide to find the 3 people in the country that actually like president Bush. And in this case, his parents count. Most Americans act just like these Irish men: out of blind hatred for Americans and the (perverted) “American ideal.” If they would have taken the opportunity to get to know something about Americans, these guys would have found that they'd have good bitching session buddies. Especially since we're in college, and bucking authority is always the hip thing to do. And oh boy do we want to be hip AND cool.

So, people from other countries: don't just blindly hate Americans. If you have to blindly do anything for us, blindly prayer for us, and blindly pity us. We're a people that have lost our vision, and should we ever again see clearly, we can offer so much to the world.

And people of America, this next part's for you.

I finished watching a movie about the IRS and if their function is ethical or not. In short, it isn't, nor has it ever been, and worse: it's not legal. And even worse is the fact that the IRS is a privately owned entity. It's not even government.

This movie touched on RFID chips and identification cards. This is scary shit. Let me give you the short of it.

RFID stands for Radio Frequency IDentification. These cards are ID cards that the government is going to start issuing in the not too distant future (implementation begins may of '08 – whatever that actually means). What makes these cards scary is that there is a chip (the actual RFID) that emits radio waves. Your card passes by a transmitter, and your card number is logged at that location. Essentially “Cuyler boards a train at 10 am. Cuyler leaves train station at 11:20 am. Cuyler enters walmart at 11:30.” These cards also contain all your banking information, social security information, medical history, employment history, fingerprints and retinal scans. So then not only does the card tell the radio transmitter at what time I enter wal mart, but what I buy, at what times I buy them, how much it costs, and when I leave. “Big deal, they can see me in wal mart.” But it wouldn't be hard to put these in random spots. Uknown checkpoints. The obliteration of privacy. They could even weave RFIDs into money, thus making untrackable money trackable.

Of course all of this is done in the interest of our best safety and protection of the public. Protection from what? Just because the government knows where I am doesn't mean a crazy terrorist can't jump through my window or gun me down.

Or worse. Just because the government knows where I am it doesn't mean I won't get hit by a drunk driver and die on impact tomorrow when I go to the coffee shop.

Or worse. Just because the government knows all my dirty little secrets doesn't mean that I won't experience a freak heart attack or liver failure.

In this documentary, it interviewed a family in Florida who got locator RFID chips installed in THEMSELVES because, as the mother so eloquently put it, “we were so afraid after the attacks on 9/11.” Bitch, please. Grow a spine, then use it as a bludgeoning device.

At what point did we raise ourselves for such cowardice? At what point did we start to raise ourselves to be so mild and acquiescent? No! This is not the spirit nor the vision of America. Rock some fuckin' boats.

The person willing to sacrifice their freedom for safety deserves neither (that might be Thomas Jefferson, but I can't find it. So if you find it, I'm not plagiarizing, just unsuccessfully citing).

So, people of America: please knock off this bipartisan bullshit. That's all it is. I don't give a damn how much you hate Bush, or how much of a coward Kerry is, or how old Dole is, or how many people Clinton screwed, or how much of a movie star Reagan was. It doesn't matter. That's not the point. The point is the vision, and the vision can't be accomplished when we have two bulls, each dumber than the other, butting heads. If an American would take the time to get to know other Americans, they'd probably find out that if you can dig deeper than the superficial political nonsense we're trained to think matters so much that we're pretty alike, and together we could accomplish quite a bit. In fact, I believe a little well known guy by the name of George Washington (you might have heard of him) said that the “party system would be the death of the government.” I'm inclined to agree. We spend so much time arguing about who's right and bitching about Bush that squat gets accomplished.

Knock it off. Let's stop being stereotypes and get some stuff accomplished. Let's not allow ourselves to be so tracked. Let's not let the IRS get away with thievery. Let's not let the rest of the world believe a bunch of shallow lies about us.

Please, Americans, let's get our vision back.