Modern Bohemian

Back in Those Days...

2008-06-28T10:46:00.001-07:00

As the last few days of this June come to a close, it occurs to me that we are 1 and 1/2 years from the end of this decade. Part of the interest around this first decade of the New Millennium (TM) is just what to call it. It's pointedly difficult to get single numbers to roll off the tongue like Forties, Fifties and Sixties. There are numerous suggestions for names of this decade, but I believe the most accurate (and historically relevant) name would be the "ought-nots," as in "ought not to have happened."

It's easy to guess from past entries that I am what some would call, pessimistic. I actually disagree with this conjecture, and prefer to identify myself as an optimistic cynic. The simple truth is, bad things have happened, are happening, and are likely to continue to happen, but I maintain that things can get better. I would further argue that plainly acknowledging the negative truths as they exist, rather than trying to sugarcoat or euphemize them away, is simply being realistic. But I'm getting away from the point.

I will not argue that this decade has seen significant advances for the human race. The Internet has had an incredible explosion of progress, with greater information access, user-generated content, and more ubiquitous computer/electronic device use overall. The environmental awareness or "Green" movement has gained social and political popularity again, with numerous industries striving to help with diminishing pollution and carbon-impact in their products and creating efficient alternative-energy technologies (though generally in response to several problems discussed below). Further developments in science and medicine continue to enable possibilities for greater standards of living worldwide. And a few stellar achievements have been made by humanity outside of our little blue-green bubble.

However, in a staggering ironic turn, the UN General Assembly declared the decade of 2000–2009 the "International Decade for a Culture of Peace and Non-Violence for the Children of the World," which seems more a statement of unfulfilled wishes rather than a declaration of achieved goals.

First of all, let's consider the minor conflicts of this "culture of peace": the resurgence of Palestinian-Israeli conflicts, insurgencies in several Mid-East countries and South/Southeast Asia, genocidal civil wars in Africa (including Darfur, Somalia and Chad), the renewed violence of the Mexican Drug War, and the Afghanistan and Iraq Wars (to name just those most-covered in the worldwide media).

Then, throw in the numerous natural disasters: record-breaking heat waves in 2003 and 2006; several categorically large earthquakes, including the Indian Ocean (2004) whose tsunamis killed more than any ever recorded and place it sixth on the Top Ten Deadliest Disasters, Kashmir (2005), Java (2006), and Sichuan Province (2008); Hurricanes Jeanne and Katrina (2004, 2005); unprecedented droughts in Africa, China and Australia; flooding in the Far-East, Mid-East, Africa, U.K. and U.S. Midwest; and seasonal wildfires which continue unabated to destroy millions of dollars of property. For fun we could also include that little blip of the 2002-2003 SARS outbreak.

A large part of the problem with the above disasters was the ensuing man-made disasters of relief efforts, where politics, mismanagement, corruption, and simple lack of preparation or resources further compounded the problems brought about by nature, resulting in even more deaths.

And of course I can't forget to leave out that infamous day, that looked upon event as the day which defined the ensuing century. The September 11th attacks. Puzzled over and dismantled numerous times and with various findings, eventually resulting in a publicly released Congressional report. But let's not forget the attacks in London, Madrid and Mumbai, as well as countless smaller attacks in urban civilian areas over the years.

A great deal of these led many people to the conclusion that "nowhere is safe;" that the conflicts of other regions could affect anyone, anywhere, regardless of personal identity, age, politics or religion. A great deal of fear resulted from this, naturally. And following that fear, anger. And following that, aggression. But the new "enemies of peace" are divided, hidden and unpredictable. There are few, if any, large standing armies to fight. So in a cloud of confusing danger, you fight who you can, where you can.

The Global War on Terrorism has been dubbed a "Long War," and it seems it will most likely replace the Cold War as the pervasive, but elusively experienced constant fear that will encompass our global consciousness. We'll get up hearing more rumblings or reports of disastrous events, trudge through the day with whatever distractions or personal stressors arise, then go to bed with further reports (or probably just block them out with escapist media).

Where does all this leave us? I don't know. I don't know what will be said of all this by a 50-year-old historian in 20 years. But I know how it all feels right now, to my generation. It sucks. It is a weight and a pressure that is always at the back of the mind. There is misery and conflict in the world, and there is very little light to be seen towards the end of any tunnel. If anything, the tunnel of our future seems to just dig deeper and deeper underground.

The only opinion that seems to be heard after a beleaguered sigh of discontent, is that the only thing to be done is to press on, and try and dig UP at every opportunity. The inertia of so much progress and hope behind us seems to keep us walking ever onward, even if we don't know towards what. Many would decry a political agenda that would emulate this outlook (as it seems to be today), but in a world of constant change, what choice do we have?

There isn't a choice of isolationism in a global economy. There isn't an option of leaving politics and big difficult choices to certain groups when those groups reveal continual scandal and corruption. And there isn't a choice of resigned apathy and ignorance when survival and health is determined by motivation and reliable information.

Back in this day, people had been given a gift of prosperity and hope, and then suddenly it began to be taken away from them in bits and pieces. And people had to decide if they would merely be repulsed and outraged at this, or if they would actively work to ensure further prosperity and hope against continued trials (possibly forever).

And back in this day, the future was still unknown, still always before us, and you're inability to rely on things made you change constantly. And only looking back from tomorrow were you certain if this was a good thing or a bad thing.

"I put a dollar in a change machine. Nothing changed. " -George Carlin, 1937-2008

Dedicated to a wise and no-bullshit man. We'll miss ya, George.

I'm ready for my close up, Mr. DeMille

2007-10-27T22:04:00.000-07:00

So...how've you been? Yeah, same here.

But, while it may seem I've hardly done anything for this site, I've actually been quite productive elsewhere. Starting with this fall, I'm consistently producing short films for my Radio, Television, Film classes, and most recently I've gotten all my schoolwork posted on YouTube.

Yes, a little bit pathetic but...alright, it's quite pathetic, but at least I can save them somewhere and also allow people to view them as they please. Eventually I'll be having to edit all my files into a comprehensive Demo Reel, but thankfully that's at least a year away.

For now, enjoy these *cough* masterpieces of student filmmaking. And look out, because I'll be using this blog as a shameless self-pimping page in the future. (And since the embedding isn't working, you'll have to actually go to YouTube to see them).

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=eYB9iZT7gjg

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=M6QAKZxgKio

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=iUqu6x0HGac

J.K. Rowling and the Profitable Idea

2007-08-21T10:28:00.000-07:00

About ten years ago, an author started a book series about several special adolescents with unique abilities who were destined to save the world from a great evil. She used her initials as more of a gender-neutral moniker to appeal to both male and female readers. The books eventually spawned merchandise and cross-media adaptations. This was the appeal of Animorphs by K.A. Applegate.

You were expecting something else?

In May 2001, the sophomore school year was winding down, and I was eagerly finishing the first major book series I had ever read, started all the way back elementary school (the 5th grade, to be exact). Back then, series like Goosebumps were very popular, but I had more of an interest in sci-fi adventure than lightweight horror. The series was also more fun than Goosebumps for me; it dealt with themes of friendship, love, family, war, the minds of "wild" animals, alien-perspective on human culture (and vice versa) and even the question of existence itself. The sheer detail of the alien races, technology, and worlds was quite exhausting by book #54, however, and having to take in and remember so much over a long period of time had grown wearisome.

So when a classmate gushed about the enjoyability of the Harry Potter series, reeling off facts about Quidditch, Diagon Alley and Hogwarts, I was completely disinterested. I had just finished a long-arc book series; why would I want to start another?

But the Cult of Potter would not be denied. Later that year, the first film was released, and try as I might to avoid it, Harry Potter creapt into my attention left and right. Our English teacher went so far as to play music from the soundtrack whenever we worked quietly on essays. Eventually, my parents rented the feature and we watched it together. They fell asleep, I was enthralled. Once the movie began to run on HBO, I watched it almost every chance I got. When the sequel was released the next year, I kept my fervor hidden, waiting for the release on TV. Again, I watched it as often as it was on, and by the time the third film opened, I openly admitted to liking Harry Potter and attended the film along with all the other Pott-heads.

Still, I had not read the books that started this fandom avalanche. Luckily all the paperback editions were readily available at every (EVERY) bookstore, and though the books increased in length and density, they always had a rather brisk pace. There were legitimate thrills from the numerous twists and reveals (for those who read the books before seeing the movies) and quite a bit of elements for adults as well as children.

Many people wonder just why these books are so special. There's hundreds, thousands of other children's books being released each year. Why are these suddenly so big? For one thing, they are easy to pick up and read, and despite the detail put into Harry's world, it is described in a simple, layman's view. The humor that J.K. Rowling employs is a familiar British wit that dryly notes the obvious even while meandering through the most surreal locales. The author's conversational tone makes the book seem less some epic fantasy reserved for scholars (sorry, Prof. Tolkien) and more an oral fable being given from narrator-to-reader. While some characters may seem usual clichés of mythic fiction, the series makes a point of given complexity to the seemingly straight-forward.

Many religious organizations (a fair number in the U.S.) contend that the books promote witchcraft, (incorrectly labeled Wicca in certain arguments) and Satanism. For anyone who has actually read the books, it is obvious these are groundless accusations. The books' interpretation of magic is acutely secular, with no mention of patron deities or gods, nor demonic or angelic beings. Indeed, magic is a near-science, with observable laws of cause and effect (though the effects are often malleable and able to be overriden). In addition, calling the series "godless" (implying it is without moral virtue) is equally unfounded. The importance of strong morals and proper ethics is the crux if the entire story of Harry Potter. The books stress love, trust, friendship, academic diligence (or at least its rewards), bravery, wisdom, etc. The layered nature of Rowling's storytelling is a key to her popularity with older readers.

The series is also notable as the first major film franchise of the new millennium, starting just one month prior the Lord of the Rings. Alongside LOTR, Pirates of the Caribbean and the Star Wars prequels, Harry Potter established a new era of fantasy filmmaking, with these series featuring the most advanced effects and artistic design the film industry has ever seen.

With the publication of the final narrative book in the series, J.K. Rowling cements herself as one of the landmark authors of the 21st century: garnering an enormous fanbase that stretches into the youngest and oldest readers across the planet (encouraging many youngsters to pick up a book instead of a remote or video game), having amassed a fortune that places her as the second-richest female entertainer in the world (the Oprah cannot be stopped), holding the record for the fastest-selling book in history, and even having an asteroid named after her.

All this because a Manchester-to-London train was delayed for four hours.

Artistic License to Kill

2007-04-29T13:26:00.000-07:00

It goes without saying that if you've travelled the web, you've come across this new art medium called a webcomic. I won't argue the merits of webcomics here, because if Peanuts and Calvin and Hobbes get critically acclaimed hardcover collections, it's hardly a giant leap to see graphics over the internet having a similar value as graphics on paper. Indeed, webcomics may even be argued to be an improvement of printed strips, because aside from the broader capabilities in digital production, webcomics are more widely available to readers. But enough literary blowjob.

I've heard, through my various sojourns through the Net, various web comic creators...well, for lack of a better term,"shit-mouthing" one another's work. And in the age of sarcasm-as-martial art, that can get a bit petulant, if unnecessary. I suppose this behavior surprises me because I follow an invalid path of logic: webcomics bring me amusement, thus they must be designed to that end, thus their creators' only aesthetic judgment of webcomics is whether or not they provide amusement. I have to remind myself that (some of) these people are artists, and they take what they do seriously, and often their personal criticism will pepper their view of other artists' work. Doesn't mean I won't read all the unpopular shit.

A shining example of this is Penny Arcade. People alternately love or loathe Penny Arcade, even having opinions on the individual personalities of the creators. Obviously, being a strip heavily devoted to video gaming commentary and reference, any positions they take in the comic will rise ire with readers. But to start fire-bombing with derisive comments and critiques of the comic as a whole seems overkill.

Obviously, not all webcomics are created equal. The same situation exists with newspaper strips. Not everyone finds Peanuts or Calvin and Hobbes hilarious and witty, but you'd be hard-pressed to find people who could adamantly heap loads of scorn on Charles Schultz or Bill Waterson. Mostly because it's just pathetic, especially since the former is dead.

I hold a "love 'em or leave 'em" policy with my internet amusements. If I get some small iota of entertainment, however mindless, I frequent the website. If not, I lose interest and eventually delete the link. Beyond that I hardly raise thoughts on the content of most webcomics or webseries. That's how most people deal with internet entertainment. There's little to no critique necessary, mostly because it barely registers as art. Why bother comparing things when the audience treats it as replaceable cheap fun?

But enough of that. Let's see what we're really talking about: webcomics. Specifically, MY favorite webcomics.

Ctrl+Alt+Dlt [Control Alt Delete]
Yes, that's first on the list. Rather it was the first I came across and decided to frequent quite awhile ago. The basic gist of the story? Gamers are freaks. At least that's what I draw from it. When it first began, the comic's main characters were Ethan and Lucas, two roommates who both enjoy the various types of gaming but to starkly different degrees. Aside from their own exploits, the comic also shows there interaction with the computer illiterate, several potential love interests, and the oddities of the general world. There is also robot on occasion. In between the plot comics are nonsensical absurdist strips featuring The Chef, and strips illustrating logical fallacies and ironies of popular video games and gaming in general. I usually skip the Chef stuff.

Something*Positive
I actually had the pleasure of meeting the creator at the Tomato pizzaria in Denton when he'd made one of his frequent trips back to his native Texas. I'd never read or even heard of the comic, but a friend recommended it highly and encouraged me to come. I netted a free sketch of the Grim Reaper saying, "I'm gettin to ya" for my older sister. The comic itself has an eclectic cast of twenty-somethings living in Boston, but with one having ties to Texas. They're all drifting around, alternatively progressing and regressing down their own paths. Mainly the acerbic wit and "what-the-shit?" situations keep me coming back.

Full Frontal Nerdity
Done by the same fellow that produces the acclaimed black-and-white comic, Ps238 (Aaron Williams), FFN delivers exactly what its title promises: nerds. Or more specifically, geeks (damn you, there IS a difference!). If you've ever trembled at discussions of any production having the word "Star" in its title, BEWARE. Three friends (and one web camera) get together regularly for their traditional tabletop game while also discussing various issues and events in the Nerd World (which is vast and frightening......................BEWARE).

xkcd
I admit, there are days I have NO idea what this comic's talking about. And then there are times where it's piercing insight is only matched by the light of God. Y'know, like that part in Raiders of the Lost Ark where that guy's face melts? Yeah, just like that. Most of the early stuff is just sketch work, but later on creator Randall Munroe starts digging into his math and science background to come up with some real heady stuff. If philosophical play on words and Escher-inspired artwork isn't your thing...well, you suck and this comic hates you.

VG Cats
In my opinion, THE videogame/pop culture web comic. It's very tongue-in-cheek and oh so pretty, so you probably don't need more reasons to see it than that, but in case you do (dammit), you should know that there is regular use of gore, violence, perverse sexuality, blasphemy, unnatural acts and death. And obviously, cats.

Lil' Formers
A recent find, and probably the most direct in its audience and subject targetting. Basically, it's transformers. Cute. Wittle. Transformers. Making fun of transformers. That's it. And for me, that's enough.

Antiseptic Poetry
...has nothing to do with this comic. Seriously. The story begins as some post-modern superheroine tale, but then slowly careens into gal pal stories and body image debates (aka FAN SERVICE). I've only just come across this comic like, yesterday, but it's already gotten my erection-er, attention. Yes. And its exploration of the female-female dynamic in modern America is a rare find amongst the other male-produced webcomics. Plus boobies. Boobies are good.

The Perry Bible Fellowship
My absolute favorite. Hands down. The ups-and-downs of this comic will make your head spin. And then pop off. And then dance a jig, then a cha-cha, then box step, foxtrot and finally charleston itself to pieces. Because one second you're reading about children exploring . Each is standalone, with few carry-over gags, save some recurring character designs and motives for simplicity. If you liked the Far Side, you'll love this comic.

The Calm Before the Storm

2007-04-12T11:06:00.000-07:00

The spring season is upon us, if not in weather, than in arbitrary calender notation. For most of the U.S., spring means new, new, new, specifically new entertainment media to satiate their staggering boredom. With so much stressful crap in their world, both large and small, this is the cheapest and most widely available drug to "turn on, tune in, [and] drop out." And what avenue is always reliably there to give them more cheap thrills and sensory overload every year? Cinema.

Already Frank Miller's 300 has taken over the box office and I'm sure most of you have suffered through the myriad catchphrases being beaten to death in pop culture. I liked the film, but more for it's individual presentation and comic book roots than any grand theme or idea it might present. It's an opera, an orgiastic splash painting of violence, and more of how a storyteller would embellish a military campaign to pass it on, than any historical treatment. It's also a huge encouragement for people to work on their abs. Seriously, lots of abs in that movie.

But even still, the 18-30 demographic is salivating for more as the summer months draw near, and already the films are lining up to power through the audiences' wallets. This weekend alone has Tarantino and Rodriguez's Grindhouse collaboration, as well as acclaimed production house Williams Street's animated feature based off their cult TV hit Aqua Teen Hunger Force.

Neither of the films is going to offer "redeeming stories with broad appeal," but they are going to be quite successful. Why? Because they know their fan base and they give them exactly what they want; which is only what the creators' want. While on opposite ends of the pop culture spectrum (Tarantino and Rodriguez legit arthouse and commercial directors, Williams Street a Turner Broadcasting subdivision dedicated to absurdist humor), both share the artistic directive of knowing what they want to make, and making it. Trying to skew that towards an audience is not really required, because the audience bends their tastes to the productions, rather than vice versa. Also, that bomb scare in Boston was a shitload of free advertising.

After these two further assaults on pop culture, we get the tried and true "Summer Sequel Slam" with Spider-Man 3, 28 Weeks Later, Shrek 3, and Pirates of the Caribbean 3, all separated by one week each. It's honestly a big risk by all these studios to crunch every single feature into the month of May, and so close together, but it's a tried old method of studios to try and trump the hype of other franchises by making an audience choose between features.

Your movie selections for May will most likely depend on your own family makeup. The family moviegoers will see Shrek and Spidey immediately, and possibly Pirates, while the older audience members will want a taste of the frenetic in 28 Weeks Later, and a look of the Hollywood hot in Pirates. There's also bound to be a lot of crossover, so expect the big takers to be Spider-Man and Pirates, since they carry the widest and largest fan bases. If you want to avoid all this craziness at the multiplex, meaning you want a screening without a hundred screeching adolescents and little children, check for theatres showing the british cop parody, Hot Fuzz. It'll be out for several weeks beforehand, so you can enjoy it in peace.

And it doesn't stop there: June brings The 40-Year-Old Virgin fans Knocked Up, more sequels with Ocean's 13, Hostel II, Fantastic Four: Rise of the Silver Surfer, Evan Almighty and Live Free or Die Hard, as well as the latest Pixar creation, Ratatouille.

Assuming you've survived all that, July picks up with the ultra-hyped Transformers "live-action" feature (which has all the important stuff computer-generated, so good luck figuring out that label), followed by the latest Harry Potter adaptation (which will be followed by the final book being released a week later, so expect Potter mania mid-July), The Simpsons Movie and cult author Neil Gaiman's adapted work, Stardust.

So, you've had three solid months of sequels and adaptations; surely you can rest easy as we edge towards fall, right? Nope. Another "live-action" feature, Underdog (yes, that Underdog) opens August along with The Bourne Ultimatum, and they're followed by Rush Hour 3 and a film based on that god-awful toy line, Bratz. September will bring us the best-selling novel The Nanny Diaries, as well as the shameless screwball sport comedy Balls of Fury and the (hopefully) final Resident Evil film.

There's honestly much more than that to come (we haven't even reach October-December!), but I'll leave you drooling/trembling at those prospects. Within all that mess, there are actually lots of simple comedies and romances, as well as off-beat indie flicks to enjoy, so don't be fooled by mob rule into seeing what has the biggest poster. Go online and watch some trailers to see what you feel like paying for.

You're supposed to enjoy going to these, remember?

New Year, New Dystopia

2007-01-13T20:47:00.000-08:00

Winter is the second big season for cineplex rushes, so I figured the best way to usher in the year was with a movie review.

Since The Fountain, the movie I’d been hearing the most whispers about was Alfonso Cuarón’s Children of Men. Now, with the former, I was a little bit disappointed after so much build-up and anticipation. With the latter, perhaps hearing about it so late was the saving grace. Or maybe it just kicked my teeth into what's left of my higher brain functions.

In what the audience is allowed to gather, a future London, England is the last bastion of “civilized” human life, all other notable countries and metropolises in shambles. Wars and terrorist attacks (both nuclear), pollution, even a few vague natural disasters have led to worldwide poverty and strife. But the true issue at the heart of every despair-filled event is a simple ritual of existence, taken for granted after so long: fertility.

The human race has not had a single birth in eighteen years, meaning no new children, meaning no new generations, meaning no future. Needless to say, people go a bit crazy. After the countless other tragedies befalling mankind, every country’s population rips itself apart in civil war. That’s basically the plot. The world is ending, and no one can rise up and save us.

Except Clive Owen.

Alright, that may be pushing it a little. Owen, most well-known in America for his appearances in Closer, Sin City and as the eponymous lead of King Arthur, is the eyes and ears of the audience. He is less the focus of the story, and more its unwitting witness. Detached and broken from his own trauma over the past eighteen years, he is in no mood to be an action hero; he’d much rather drink himself into a coma, except for the fact he has a narrative importance…er, destiny.

Don’t worry, though. Owen’s ghostly behavior is not the focus of the drama. The film is filled to the teeth with heavy action. Gruesome action. Won’t-somebody-please-think-of-the-children action. I remember comparing the urban fighting between military/police and civilians to the battles of Saving Private Ryan and Band of Brothers. And honestly, they are that intense.

Explosions swiftly disrupt calm if hectic urban scenes, and a background extra may be just as likely to pick up a rock and stone a main character as stroll nonchalantly by. Everyone’s depressed, everyone’s angry, and everyone sees everyone else as a potential target. The most horrific and telling detail of this apocalyptic landscape is how many people are indiscriminately injured or outright killed with little time to even register the impact.

The other remarkable feature of this film is how important the set design is. Taking place several decades in the future, there are numerous elements showing us a world distinctly different, if still descended from our world: car designs that look like advancements on current models, but obviously several years off the dealership floor; pervasive streaming advertisements and news programs; all sorts of modern technology with extra data and information flooding out. Clive Owen even has a weathered sweatshirt advertising the 2012 London Olympics.

But unlike recent futurist movies, this is all done in a passing glance, without wide, IMAX shots of how much traffic is on the superhighway. Cuarón’s use of the handheld digital camera increases the audience’s interest in the scenery. Following Owen on the street level, we become more interested in the billboards advertising assisted-suicide medication, the posters encouraging reporting illegal refugees, the religious repenters flagellating themselves in droves.

In the tradition of 28 Days Later, the horror is in how near and overflowing all of this is. A whole world surrounds the characters of the story, but it isn’t one to be celebrated, but feared. If there were any simple message to take from the film, it might be the insidiousness of allowing a government to run rampant in times of crisis (ala V for Vendetta’s cinematic translation), but the more subtle message is the calming effect of innocence. A dominant modern view is that those who are too meek to defend themselves with violence will be consumed by the darker elements of humanity. But perhaps their gentle nature protects them from being consumed spiritually...

There’s no cut and dry victory for the film’s characters, and certainly no critical solutions to any of the events the film prophesizes, but Cuarón does use a wonderfully effective thematic lesson: survive the future, by remembering and honoring the past.

Please, think of the children.

Time of the Season

2006-12-22T15:57:00.000-08:00

The one year anniversary of my blog, and what a year.

Still, I haven't kept up with things of late, and this blog has easily suffered the most with little to no updates the past two months.

The last time you checked in, I was all fired up about the Kinkster. In case you didn't hear, he lost. He lost big time. But, I was not as dismayed when I heard this as you might think.

The day I found out Kinky came last in the top four candidates, and of course helped to keep Rick Perry in office, I was lucky enough to be treating a pleasant young woman to lunch and enjoying her conversation. On top of that, a large television in the restaurant featured C-SPAN's broadcast of the Congressional elections, as well as announcement of Rumsfeld's departure.

Happy fucking day!

In addition to those national achievements, it's been a very good season for me as well. Many new people met and befriended, another step closer to finishing my foreign language requirement, finally crossing off several of AFI's top 100 movies off my lists, and several good steps made in my own writing career, some of which will continue into the new year.

I also had the good chance to volunteer on an independent film shoot, getting some hands-on experience for the first time in a long while. Let me say, a film set is exactly like it looks on TV: chaos, chaos, chaos. Lots of people talking (when they can), lots of sudden activity followed by tense moments where you don't want anyone to so much as blink (or worse, breath), and boring waiting. Lots of waiting. Overall an exhausting job, but valuable lessons for a lowly screenwriter.

The event I'm most proud of, however, was being named Time's Person of the Year. True, it's not really a prize or award, but, I just feel so damn appreciated at the recognition. I always hoped of being selected one day, and now that I have been, I'll be shooting for Person of the Century. Look out, Einstein, you might just get overshadowed.

The Jewish Cowboy Rodeo

2006-10-01T12:29:00.000-07:00

This past Friday, Texas gubernatorial candidate Kinky Friedman happened to stop by the North Texas campus for a relatively brief speech and public appearance. It was quite a surprise to me to hear about this so suddenly a few days beforehand, without any formal announcement. But, I am not without my resources, so after quickly confirming the appearance, I made plans with a David, a friend also interested in hearing Kinky speak, to be sure and get to the Lyceum theatre early for good seats.

Now, Kinky Friedman, as an indepedent candidate, is oddball enough, but his public image of a cigar chompin', Stetson-wearin', guitar pluckin' Jewish cowboy who produces music and mystery novels elevates him quite a great deal in the public eye. On top of that, he's had a great deal of blunt and satirical comments on campaign issues and social happenings (his stance on gay marriage: "I support gay marriage. I believe they have a right to be as miserable as the rest of us"). Needless to say, for a state that has as many problems as we do (poor education, illegal immigration that benefits few, lack of funding for social services despite budget surpluses), it's refreshing and enticing to see a public figure who is unapologetic about his controversial stances but redeemably humorous and rather insightful.

So, me and David arrive outside the Lyceum theatre in the University Union. It's about an hour before the scheduled start, and there's already about 50-some-odd people waiting around an area about the size of a McDonald's counter ordering area. There are two tables linked side-by-side: one for purchasing Kinky Friedman merchandise for between two and twenty dollars (all of which goes towards his campaign) and another for registering to vote. I ask David jokingly if he's registered. "Ah, no I haven't." *pause* "Seriously?" "Dude, I just turned 18 this past summer." "Well, get the hell over to that table and register. We've got an hour." After getting David signed up and grabbing our propagandic swag, the doors were opened and we grabbed some premium seats for best view of the stage and to be near the mikes for Q&A time (which was actually the bulk of the appearance).

The theatre was filled to capacity, mostly with the twenty-something supporters Kinky has become known for, but also private detractors and opposition from the Democratic students on campus. Still, the “Kinkster” received a standing ovation after his announcement by Little Jewford (aka Jeff Shelby), which immediately segued into an Abbot-Costello “Thank you” “You’re welcome” routine by Kinky and Jewford. Before beginning his speech, Kinky wished to tell us about a dream he’d had recently. Rick Perry had gone to heaven. That wasn’t even the beginning of the joke, but the audience was happy enough to applaud. The overall structure and punch line was the same as anti-Bush and anti-Republican jokes I’ve heard: “Yesterday we were campaigning,” the Devil said. “Today, you voted.”

Kinky then launched into his brief speech outlining the issues he was focused on, capping each with a concise but humorous quip. This was how Kinky was reaching people: firing off easily digestible summaries of how he felt about things on an emotional level. I’ve heard it commented that Kinky’s style of rhetoric is akin to a preacher, and I have to agree. His speeches are deeply rooted in emotional as well as intellectual grabs and he mixes everything with physical mannerisms that elicit excitement and interaction with his audiences. He may be deeply opposed to being called a politician, but Kinky Friedman communicates and orates like a professional.

The Q&A session was fairly interesting, mostly because of Kinky defending himself against allegations of being racist simply because he used the word “negro” in an interview (“I helped found a group in UT that successfully picketed to integrate restaurants and worked for the Peace Corps at 11 cents an hour in Borneo with all kinds of people from all over. That kinda resume doesn’t seem to jive with a racist”) and a student who tried to bring up a quote from 1980 (nearly 30 years ago, folks) who was quickly booed down by the entire room.

By and large, Kinky answered what questions he had opinions and stances on, and admitted he had not come to a decision on others and would not give a pat, “covering all the bases” answer. I’d have to say he really said what people interested in him wanted to hear, with firm stances on reforming education funding and management, as well as being strict in handling crime and illegal immigration (to make sure that no laborers are exploited without pay, as well as preserving the traditional methods of immigration). I asked David after a particularly thunderous audience reaction, “Are you fired up about politics now?” His eyes were quite wide as he gave me a sharp nod.

If anyone wants to know what good such a radical as Kinky Friedman is bringing to this election, I’ll tell you: he’s getting more people involved in the voting process, as well as enticing many younger residents to become active in politics.

“If you’re old enough to fight in Iraq, you’re old enough to help us fix our government.”

Damn right, Mr. Governor. Damn right.

My Very Eager Mother Just Served Us N...

2006-08-27T09:23:00.000-07:00

If you haven't heard by now, you're in for a shock: they are only EIGHT, not nine, planets in our solar system.

This past Thurday, the International Astronomical Union (or at least 424 of their number), decided that Pluto was in fact, not a planet. The criteria for planet has been redefined so that numerous celestial bodies recently discovered would not have no to be included as planets simply because they met or exceeded Pluto in size.

Now, while it may seem an easy enough thing to define for the new millennium what constitutes a planet (at least within our solar system), it was not so easily
defined by the Union.

A lot of scientists, most notably Dr. Alan Stern, NASA's lead scientist for a robotic mission to Pluto, have argued that the definitions barring celestial bodies that haven't absorbed debris in their orbit ("clearing the local neighborhood") excludes Mars, Jupiter, Neptune and even Earth from being called planets. Personally, I like the guy from Uruguay's idea.

But even though the Union's simplified the solar system for future categorizing of far-out objects, it's seriously hurt one large group of people: astronomy students.

I thank God I finished my astronomy classes last year, because this would have been a frustration of Charlie Brown proportions.

Now to come up with a new mnemonic device. Who's up for nachos?

Those That Can't Do....

2006-07-29T10:01:00.000-07:00

Alright, so in my employment experience, I've worked industrial shop labor, block ice manufacture, and university store cashier. As summer rolled past its midway point (by my academic calender at least), I was still looking for gainful employment to finance my expenses the next term. Enter my wonderful community college.

Tarrant County Community College (or TCC for short) has held a summer youth education program since 1986, called College for Kids. Now before leaving my first summer session of spanish (alliteration is an odd grammatical phenomenon), our professor had mentioned that the program needed some replacement adjunct teachers for the upcoming three week term. We already had a classmate involved in the program, but not many of us were interested in investing more time in education, especially when it wasn't our education. "Geology, Computer Graphics and Chess need teachers." We were only half-listening. "How much does the job pay, Adrienne?" Pay? This position paid? "Uh, I don't know. I'm only a teaching assistant, but I make about $12 an hour."

---------> Huh-wha? Twelve bucks an hour? What were these jobs again?

"Geology, Computer Graphics, and Chess."

Chess. I knew how to play chess. How hard can teaching a game be?

I and two other students quickly made tracks to the office of Continuing Education across campus. There, the woman known as Miss Jackie laid it out for us. "So are ya'll teachers?" Well, we're not licensed educators, no. "No, but you're interested in teaching?" Yeah. "Okay. Follow me."

The classes ranged from 3rd graders to 8th graders, with six regular chess classes, and two advanced chess classes. Among the three of us, we could handle teaching eight classes. And that was the key. "Can you teach?" The last person they'd had was a 19-year-old chess champion, and while finding an experienced player as replacement wasn't difficult, someone who could impart knowledge without being a bore was.

So, myself and two other young students took it upon ourselves to apply for the job, which we all received what with the need for enough teachers to handle the classes. I was the one who was listed as responsible for the room key (and thus, the security of all our supplies and materials), and the head teacher for the two advanced classes (our most experienced member declined because he needed the extra time to study for his MCAT). It was a minor thing that was buzzing around the back of our minds, but one of our number bravely asked: "So, just how much will we be making?" "Um, I'm not sure, but bare minimum...sixteen dollars an hour."

$16 an hour x 8 hours a day x 4 days a week x 3 weeks = More money than I've ever made in my life.

Oh yeah, I had to contain the smile.

Of course, we'd soon learn the setup wasn't as simple as you'd first imagine. Knowing the rules of chess is easy enough, and teaching those rules is also easy. But defining chess tactics and strategy is much more complicated. It was easy enough for Vincent, the med student, to work up basic powerpoints for the beginner classes, but it took me half of the first week to come up with stuff for tournament players to learn from. Again, ask and Wikipedia shall deliver. While Vincent talked about piece movement, I discussed that crazy language known as algebraic notation ("Knight to e4"). I picked easy concepts from a chess lexicon to present as "words of the day." It was about as clichéd as you'd imagine. You stand up, present the words and ideas with pictures, ask questions in a really condescending manner, and then you move on to practical application of material.

I'd say our lectures were fairly good, but I think we failed in controlling the play afterwards. Most of the beginning classes had so few students as to allow us to micromanage every game, giving tips, buffering bad habits, and lending a hand in disputes. In the two advanced classes, myself and Nick, the third teacher, were a bit out of our element. To start with, 11:00 became synonymous with "ah, hell." It was our largest class (23 students) and we had the littlest content available to keep them occupied. Most of our classes came in asking for boards and pieces immediately. I mean literally. They didn't believe they were there to do anything but PLAY CHESS. That's easy enough to temper and control in a group of six to eight, but fifteen or twenty-three kids grabbing supplies, starting games and yelling, throwing, and generally starting their own freetime gets a bit hard to handle.

I've always been a stickler for silence when a teacher's speaking, but I took it to a new level in this situation. I don't think "power trip" actually conveys how much I enjoyed this part of the job. It's one thing when you're a classmate telling your peers to be quiet, it's another when you RUN the class, and are threatening a dead silence edict with no chess sets for nearly an hour if there's misbehavior. It's intoxicating.

Overall, 11:00 was a babysitting job for us after we trudged through whatever textbook stuff I pulled out. Playing was largely what the students were there for. And we let them. About two-thirds of every class were play sessions, because we only had so much content (and we preferred them to learn by playing their peers).

The job was a dichotomy because seeing students win or fail and learn by that was exciting, while dealing with their egos and hyperactive behavior was not. In the end we all agreed the job was stressful but worth it (I say worth it for the pay, the others for their own reasons). Of course, since most of the class was coasting (only one of us needed to lecture at a time, and games didn't need constant arbitration) you wouldn't have your attention occupied all the time, but you could be distracted enough not to be able spend all your time studying or working on something else. This mixture of boredom and stress quickly tired us out each day.

Some saving graces for us: 1) The film Searching for Bobby Fischer 2) The computer game Battle Chess, which features such enticing animations as a "rock monster Rook" swallowing the Queen whole, a Knight severing another Knight's limbs one-by-one, ala Monty Python and the Holy Grail, and the King using flails, revolvers and bombs to repel his attackers 3) A large, outdoor chessboard with pieces ranging from sixteen to approx. twenty-seven inches high for eventual tournament play.

A highlight of this past job was the actual opportunity to teach. I just love watching people grasp a concept and apply it. While many of our students were already adept players, we had several who came to us with little to no previous experience with the game. A key example was a pair of twin brothers who knew more about checkers than chess, but eventually made it through half their class's tournament in the last week.

Believe it or not, chess is something that's actually easier to teach than to play. I'll probably never look at an 8x8 checkered board without trepidation ever again, but hey, it's only a game, right?

Dog Day's Journey into Night

2006-06-27T10:31:00.000-07:00

Rest in Peace, Babs...

Breaking News...

2006-06-14T20:19:00.000-07:00

Apparently, Spider-Man is Peter Parker.

Yes.

Alright, so that's not shocking to anyone in our world, but everybody in the pages of Marvel Comics is gonna go apeshit over this come July's books shipping. God, I can't wait to see Pete's old boss (and #1 Spidey Hater) J. Jonah Jameson's reaction, other than the simple fainting shown in Civil War #2.

Now, why does any of this matter? It doesn't. Not one fucking bit. Go read up on current geopolitics at Wikipedia.

...

...

Still here? Alright. Y'see, this is gonna be like back when they changed Superman. No no, not when he died, a few years after that....They changed him....His costume was all blue and electric....He had electric powers and shit....Seriously? Okay, fuck it, this will be like when they killed Robin....Of "Batman and...?"....Yeah.... They had two pay numbers that fans could vote in on....Really?....Yeah it caused a big to do....Jesus, if you don't know about any of that what the hell are you still doing here? This is a geek article.

So anyways, I'm fine with Peter Parker publicly revealing his identity (in the comics). It's a distinct step forward in the series, and an evolution of the character's life (just like finally marrying Mary Jane). Of course, many people like to imagine that since the 40 some-odd years that Spider-Man's been published to the 15 some-odd years he claims to have existed, just don't add up, and thus, no comic has to realistically acknowledge the passage of time (except night becoming day and the seasons). But nobody ages. Ever. There are plenty of jokes I could make, but that's a whole 'nother article (which I am now going to conceive and plague the interweb with). Anyways, this means that Bruce Wayne isn't in his early-forties, Dick Grayson just grew like a weed during his (apparently still ongoing) adolescence. Right.

So readers of comics are beginning to acknowledge the passage of time. Okay, so what's the big problem? Well, this means that the comics feature a setting (Peter Parker's identity is NOT secret) that differs from the overall mythology publicly known. Does anybody who knows "Batman and Robin" understand that there have been FOUR separate Robins? Fuck no, and good luck explaining it to 'em.

So when people read this, they're gonna get all confused and say, "well shit, what's gonna happen in the movie?" Nothing. Separate media, separate stories. That's why you Smallville freaks need to stop looking for clues to the future of your precious show in the new movie. They aren't related (except by featuring the exact same characters).

A lot of people are going to be upset by this change, especially how it radically alters the nature of the Spider-Man story of "Guy is nerd, guy gets powers, guy becomes superhero, guy doesn't get to have an awesome cool life because no one can know about it, angst and deflective humor ensue." To these people, let me offer some sage words: SHUT...THE...FUCK...UP.

I've kept with Spidey for the past five years, through some of the most controversial story-arcs ever printed about him (except Clone Saga; if you know nothing else about Spider-Man, know that nothing is as horrible as Clone Saga). This is just interesting. If you people want to "drop Marvel forever," good riddance. You're all just unappreciative of taking risks in storytelling. And you're pussies. Big cowardly pussies. And you need to bathe. And Batman COULD kick Captain America's ass.

"Timmy Threatened on Facebook..."

2006-06-14T19:47:00.000-07:00

So, apparently, there's this thing on the interweb called facebook where people go to further the relationships they establish at work and school.

...

...

My brain just has some trouble understanding this concept. You want to further the relationships you've established at work and school, increasing the time you spend with these people? I mean, how fucking lonely and starved for attention do you have to be to email and text message the shit out of people you already see most of the week?

If it hasn't already occured to you, I have recently joined Facebook. Yes, it is true. The disease is spreading. In all honesty, it wasn't my idea...entirely. A great number of my so-called "friends" who have moved away keep contact through sending messages and photos via Facebook. The software itself is set up to connect people through mutual friends, school classes and organizations. I basically see it as an alumnist tool, enabling people to stay in contact after graduating high school and/or college. It's also really good for stalking people after they think they've escaped your attention... My own delightful creepiness aside, the most criticism of Facebook comes from incidents where petulant high schoolers continue their school politics in another forum. I don't think Facebook is much to blame for that, they've just made the easiest place for this to happen.

Anyways, my "friends" were on Facebook, and recommended I join. I wisely declined, citing my desire to remain as withdrawn as possible from the current vortex of "Me, Me, Me" software currently booming (such as IMing, texting, MySpace-easy web design). Granted, it all facilitates easier communication, but that's a double-edged sword. Just because people have the ability to speak, does not mean they will speak well. But I'm getting off track. I was free from Facebook. I never IMed or texted. I only visited MySpace for the softcore porn (incidentally, yahoo groups are still a better method for getting free porn). So what happened? Fucking kismet, that's what. That bitch Fate is always sticking her nose where it's not wanted.

I come across an old friend from high school, not seen since graduation a couple years ago. We say hi, he's on his way to a class at the community college we're both standing in (cheap and easy credits, yo), so I ask him to write down his email, we'll talk later. The address doesn't work for shit. It has some suspicious punctuation before the "at" symbol. But removing what could just be an ink splotch still doesn't work. I'd really like to catch up with this person, but I've no way to contact him, nor am I incredibly likely to see him unless I devote a ridiculous amount of time to hanging around the community college. Where on Earth could I go to track down this person?

Facebook.

Nearly everyone high school or college age has a Facebook account, enabling them to be found by name, region and school by anyone who registers their own account with a valid email address (though it probably has to be connected to a school or business these days). I had the poor bastard's page within ten minutes (and that's because I had to register). So, I located the person, sent a message, and that was it...

...or so I thought.

You see, the addictive thing about Facebook is this: it's free, it's accesible, and my generation is easily amused. So now I start combing this person's Friends List, then comb those people's Friend Lists, then comb those people's Friends List. Soon enough, I had seen pages for practically everyone in my senior class schedule (and those people at graduation you ask, "you went to school with us?"). So of course, I get bored. I start typing. I start messaging. Soon I'm amassing a Friends List. And now I'm caught in the viral web. A little fly who got too curious and is now stuck in the electronic social quagmire, being sucked at by other users. I'd tried so hard to get away from some of these people. I just wanted to say hello to a few I'd had lunch with a few times.

That bastard should have just given me the right email address or none at all.

I Went to Seattle and All I Got Was This Permanent Decorative Scarring...

2006-06-14T14:15:00.000-07:00

Despite the worldwide view that all Americans live a constant life of hedonistic leisure, sucking down food, media and drugs 24/7, it's quite rare when I hear of people taking an honest-to-God vacation. And by vacation, I mean dropping every scheduled event in your life, and just pissing off to somewhere new. Luckily, this May was different from other Mays. My older brother, my only brother but older, was graduating law school in Seattle. Basically fulfilled my mother's dream. Now she can say with deft pleasure, "my son, the lawyer..." like any self-respecting Jewess. Alright, so her dream is really that her children all receive degrees in higher learning and she retire to run a bakery or bed-and-breakfast, but the other line is funnier (and god have mercy on the first person she says that to).

The basic prize in all this for me was mooching a trip up to Washington from my parents. Granted, I've mooched every stitch of clothing, piece of furniture, and meal in my life from my parents, but travel has so much more spiritual symbolism, you can pawn it off as significant life experience. Let me say, I usually hate flying, because of my dislike for sitting still for long periods of time, and the cramped spaces of modern airlines, it makes for a very uncomfortable trip at upwards of four hours. The view, however, is many times what the television or film would have believe: the Rockies, the grasslands, the rural farms, the Northwest; it's all very breathtaking, and your eyes just simply can't take in enough of it at once.

The arrival at the airport was a bit of a culture shock, not really because Starbucks was everywhere, but how Green-conscious the city really was. All public facilities and sanitation services were geared towards conservation. I can only imagine how impacting similar guidelines across the U.S. could be. The day was fairly early, and getting to see the evergreen trees canvasing the region was quite a change from the views here in North Texas. My parents and I would eventually see much of the city, but here are the highlights:
-The Space Needle: Don't go there early in the morning, because the top floor's coffee stand is for shit. Do go there early in the morning for a beautiful, crisp few of the city without gobs of tourists around you. The viewing scopes are (mostly) free, and there are plenty of key areas of the city to zoom in and check out.
-The Seattle Aquarium: 1) My mother always visits the nearest aquarium when she travels, 2) I like sea otters. Unfortunately we were at the aquarium when legions of schoolchildren were descending. The high shrieks bouncing off the wall were enough to cause dolphins commit suicide, so we departed after quickly viewing all the interesting sea life mankind doesn't give a shit about.
-The Science Fiction Museum: right up beside the Needle is this gem of a tourist attraction, located in the freaky Experience Music Project building. I was geeking out the entire time. Literature, film, radio, TV, EVERY damn thing you can think of they referenced in their exhibits. The rooms were "pimped to the nines" with memorabilia (if I may use such a horrendous blending of metaphor and slang). I was geeking out. Comparing to the more well-known EMP exhibits, I have to say the Sci-Fi Museum was better. The tour could progress easier, and the sights and sounds weren't overwhelming so that you didn't know where to look or listen.
-Pike Place Market: this IS Seattle. If you've never been to a street market, you need to drop by here. Notable for the entertaining Pike Place Fish workers, the market has numerous shops and levels with just about something for everyone. Half-price books, fresh flowers, baked goods, nostaglic art and posters, magic tricks, and more. This is souvenier heaven.

Now, while we travelled around, we did occassionally stop for a meal, and let me say, do not plan to eat fast food here. The local restaurants deserve your money. No doubt it's expensive as hell, but you get a memorable experience, and a rewarding meal.

All of this was secondary to me, however, even though I was looking forward to congratulating my brother on his hard work paying off. My main motive to going to Seattle was to get a tattoo. Now, in the modern western world, tattoos have become a rite of passage. Of course, they've also become co-opted as another trend to be clichéd into the ground, but I see tattooing as so ancient and primal that no amount of modern re-interpretation can damage what it is at its core. My sister, who also lived in Seattle, had a local artist that she'd gone to for years, and was happy to foot the bill for my first ink (happy being a bit of a misnomer in her case).

Now, like I said, certain tattoo designs have become clichéd through overuse. But, despite choosing Japanese kanji for my selection, I believe that the individual word I chose has enough personal meaning to be important to me. Go here for a pic. This is the same advice I dispense to friends: if you have a symbol or design with distinct personal significance, and you want to have art permanently on your body to reflect this part of you, get the tattoo. If everyone else is in the parlor to get one, DO NOT just choose a cute winking fairy to place on your hip bone. That's just fucking stupid.

Anyways, the time I spent in Seattle was very relaxing, I had a lot of good meals, saw some interesting things, got a tattoo, and got to see my brother graduate law school. The flight back was complete crap, and having to deal with the parental backlash to getting a tattoo was further crap (despite being nearly old enough to buy liquor), but I honestly think you have to risk and take a little discomfort to get a little satisfaction.

Pimp My X-Men

2006-02-28T21:06:00.000-08:00

Part of the responsibility I have with this blog is to educate, as well as entertain. In that vein, I'd like to reach out to the less internet savvy (but still savvy enough to reach this page somehow) and teach them about internet memes. Plagiarized from Wikipedia (though technically not, since I've given them credit) "an internet "meme" (rhymes with theme) occurs when something relatively unknown becomes increasingly popular, often quite suddenly, through the mass propagation of media content made feasible by the Internet." One recent example is http://www.chucknorrisfacts.com/, where fans have taken the cult status of actor and martial artist Chuck Norris to the Nth degree of freakiness.

Just yesterday, the video sharing website, YouTube, revealed this little beauty to me:
http://www.youtube.com/w/Juggernaut%20Bitch?v=6QXUXQ8miHs&eurl

That's Juggernaut. He is from the comic books. Apparently, the entertainment the 1990s X-Men cartoon afforded me in my childhood is increased tenfold by dubbing Dave Chappelle style dialogue over the soundtrack.

I actually know the episode in question (and some of the actual dialogue), but I can't help but substitute in the alternative dialogue. Who's to say Juggernaut didn't actually go around referring to himself in the third person? Honestly, if you were an oversized, mentally abused male with invulnerablilty and super strength, I think you would too.

Okay, so maybe it's a pretty crass piece of comedy, but it still has some good moments, and it's pretty easy to see the guys making it were just having some fun with something they loved. And that, is why I can respect it.

"I'm made of laffy taffy...*snickers*"

On Hating "People"

2006-02-13T18:04:00.000-08:00

Let's start with a story.

A seven-year-old incurs the wrath of an elementary school teacher [for being a mouthy prick]. He says he hates her. She asks if a child so young can understand the meaning of the word "hate." He says it means "extreme dislike." The teacher is taken aback, but she punishes him (ingeniously) by holding his hand for the rest of the day.

Suffise to say, I was the young boy, and those were my words.

Hey, don't insinuate I don't know what words mean.

Moving on from that, lets flash forward to a lesson I learned just recently: people want you to mind your own damned business. If someone is vomiting for nearly half an hour, I tend to think "unusual." But now I know that drunks are superhuman in their ability to lose all cognitive ability, motor and bowel control, general common sense, but still retain an ability to enjoy the experience. Don't get in the way of a college student's buzz, ladies and gentlemen.

It seems that the first two years of college are not for figuring out what career path you'd like to pursue, but how much damage you can do to yourself and still get up the day after next.

Perhaps I'm just irritated being the only person in my entire social milieau that's straight-edge. For those unfamiliar with the term, it means no alcohol, no cigarettes, no weed, no opiates. Some people cut out other things like caffeine too, or blend it with being vegan. I'm not a morning person, so I need caffeine from time to time. I need the life energy of dead animals for power, so I eat meat and animal products. I'm trunctuating the socio-political aspects of this movement, but you've obviously got the internet, so look it up.

But back to hating "people." We all have biases and prejudices that poison our interactions with certain individuals (rent Oscar nominated film Crash). And over time we feel our biases are founded enough that we will always dislike meeting and talking to ceratin types of people: conservative businessmen in suits, young ambercrombie aficionados with purposely waxy hair, dark dressed goths who are "misunderstood" and like it that way, human chatterboxes (male and female) with loud, boisterous voices that seldom need a responsive partner to talk, pasty males with glasses and unkempt hair who focus primarily on toys, games, and comic books.

Is it better to hate people on an individual basis? Hating Steve, but not all Steves. Hating the one Hispanic guy at work, but not all Hispanics. Hating women who lie about their availability just because they aren't interested, but not all women.

It's a fairly self-destructive emotion to instinctually feel contempt towards someone, no matter how personally you know them. You expend a great deal of energy feeling and thinking this way, you aggravate health issues and you generally make other people feel bad with your unconscious behavior.

Then again, getting called a "duchebag" makes it hard to like a person you've never met before.

Green

2006-01-21T14:16:00.000-08:00

It's a personal theory of mine that every citizen of the United States should at one point in their lives, preferrably when they're between 18-22, work in a service or retail position.

Everyone.

I could say it builds character, or some condescending crap like that, but honestly, it's more about getting people to RESPECT those that serve them, so there are less "incidents" between staff and customers.

Recently, I had a part-time position in my college's bookstore during "rush."

"Rush" is not at all related to the fraternities or sororities, but the period of time at the beginning and end of an academic semester when faculty and students descend like locusts looking for their supplies and books ALL AT ONCE.

So, the Sunday before Rush, I had a three-hour training session to learn the fine art of cash registering. To be fair, the modern cash register is a fairly complex machine, with computer processors, multiple databases and shifting keyboard functions connected to on-screen menus.

The easy thing about being a cashier is how repetitive most of your job is. The knowledge you need to acquire for working your store's individual registers comes fairly quickly, and even if you are brain dead and without short term memory, there are handy plastic sealed cheat sheets to guide you through a transaction made with a check (incidentally, don't write checks unless you want to be there awhile; I have to write information on the check as well, not just you).

Another interesting lesson about working an entry level business position is how quickly you are entrusted to put forth the image and propaganda of the company. Sales, discount coupons, free giveaways, and customer greeting is all part of the job.

Aside from whether or not one could pay with more than one form of tender (you can, it just takes longer), the thing I was asked most often was where one would need to return books to. These people received directions on where we defer returns for the first week of school. Beyond that, I didn't reveal the intricate underpinnings of returns.

Within the first week, returned textbooks net a full refund (if applicable). People REALLY want that refund when they learn they don't actually need that seventy-five dollar calculus book. I had to tell every person that bought at least one textbook when their last chance to get a full refund was. I thank the gods I won't be their with the regular staff when people are showing up the day AFTER and only receiving a percentage buy-back deal.

The best part of the job was seeing enormous lines piling up, and being able to do jack about it. Sometimes all of the registers, including the emergency manager-run ones, are full, and all you can do is steadily keep scanning the basket loads of merchandise people have decided to buy TODAY OF ALL DAYS. Sometimes the registers can't take credit cards, just because... Most of the time, my barcode scanner was incredibly anal about how to read. All of the time [I was on register], I had to manually input card PIN numbers because my swipe machine was defective. In these situations, I was reminded of that scene from the Simpsons with DMV workers, Patty and Selma: "Some days, we don't let the line move at all." "We call those WEEK days."

Despite the rampant bureacracy of the registers, I actually enjoyed the job. Helping people get in and out was nice, and getting experience manning a sales position was good.

Too bad temp pay is shit.

3 Hour Party People

2006-01-12T09:47:00.000-08:00

In celebration of a friend's 21st birthday, I drove more than an hour to a foreign apartment complex to spend a little time amongst some real-world people and have some laughs. And possibly drink (my beliefs do allow consumption of intoxicants for special ocassions).

Firstly, the only beverage I'm comfortable with drinking from a glass bottle (other than carbonated soda) is Mike's Hard Lemonade/Limeade. It's a citrus drink, so it makes sense for it to taste bitter. Beer on the other hand, has no excuse for tasting like piss. Saying, "but that's what beer tastes like" only tells me how little you've explored. This is why I'm more a fan of darker brands, such as Guinness.

Now, I am not a heavy drinker, don't drink to get drunk, so even FINISHING a fucking bottle of Mike's is far out of range for me. However, when the birthday boy discovered I had yet to taste "excellent Irish whiskey," he prodded me to have a meager shot.

Let me say, holy fuck.

When they say that stuff burns, they aren't shitting hyperbole. I didn't sputter, choke, or gag, but the sensation of drinking this whiskey was worse than any Listerine or boiling acid I had ever gargled (acid keeps the CIA implants quiet).

I could also tell how people drank this to "keep warm." Drink whiskey and you'll be jumping around naked when it's twenty below.

Other than those two drinks, all I consumed at the "party" (really too tame to call it that, but whatever) was some greasy chips and the delightful chocolate pastry we dubbed the "Erotic Nipple and Bukakke Cake."

Some time early on, we were informed by the party host of our cars being towed for loitering in apartment resident spots, instead of the six FILLED spots that were Visitor's Parking. Apparently the fine folks at Mercer Oaks didn't feel any residents would have many guests after dark.

As a half dozen people rushed to save themselves from hefty fines and inconvenient bureaucracy, I deftly jumped between my car and a man holding a flashlight looking for parking stickers. Ha ha, you scavenging fuck, no capitalizing off me tonight!

Meeting up in an Old Navy parking lot close by, we waited for the host to arrive and take us back to the party. One member of our expedition team noted, "the fact that they do that is so gay. Gayer than gay. That towing policy is gayer than I am." The man knew gay, and I was inclined to agree with him.

After everyone had tasted enough spirits, mostly through the magic of Roulette Shots, we spent the last hour sobering up and making idle chit-chat about the drink coasters that lit up when you placed a drink on them, producing a psychedelic light show for our entertainment.

Eventually, I called it a night, got shuttled back to my car and began the long drive home.

Pass the Chronic- What? -Cles of Narnia!

2006-01-03T14:06:00.000-08:00

Wanting to see at least one holiday release film before heading back to college, I looked over the listings for the closest theater. I wanted something well received and entertaining for good money value (going to matinees is practically half the cost of prime time), but also not excruciatingly long.

The Lion, the Witch and the Wardrobe was only two hours long, and I was familiar enough with the book series to know it should have plenty of action. And thank god it did.

Most of the primary actors in the film were horrible. Only Tilda Swinton seemed to bring life to her character, without being incredibly clichéd. The children, who must have all had allergic reactions to craft services with their enormous bee-stung lips, were two-dimensionally sweet and, well, childish. I didn't see a lot of reasons for maturity in the film, or why any of them should be ready to fight a war equivalent to Peter Jackson's epic (and honestly, the battle scenes were quite good). True, the kids have lived in a bombed out London, had both their parents driven away from them by war, and even been left to their own devices in a secluded mansion. But hardly any of this seems to have much affect on them, insofar as their behavior changes.

Narnia's first film really suffers from not knowing what it is. The film is based on children's books, so of course, it should be accesible to kids. But at the same time, serious themes of conflict, sacrifice, betrayal, and even redemption are sprinkled throughout, but in fairly black-and-white, everything-gets-neatly-resolved-in-a-vacuum terms.

I'm mostly suspecting the director of having a skewed idea of how to bring the content of Narnia to life, and not just the visuals (which Weta has done an incredible job on). The Lord of the Rings had a story several times as complex and dense, yet fans and average movie-goers alike could easily access the material based on the performances of the actors. Here, most of the emotion is heavily subdued and diluted (save for some moments from Swinton).

The visual color is also something I had issue with. There was no clear difference between England and Narnia (other than how wide the camera shot was) and Narnia in winter was just as bright as Narnia in summer. The interplay of light was highly under-used (this is primarily a wannabe filmmaker griping).

If this is to be a franchise to compete with Harry Potter, which may also run to seven films (a record for a non-serial franchise), then it has a lot of growing to do. The extent of the visual ingenuity needs to match the actors' performances.

Get [Bleep]'d

2005-12-29T21:48:00.000-08:00

So, last night, me and dear ol' dad are catching up on quality time, sitting around watching last season's reruns of South Park.

During the commercial breaks, there are two advertisements for a new cellular telephone coming in 2006. Now, these commercials don't just brag about how handy and versatile this phone will be, they don't just show how big their service will be with humorous CG visuals like Verizon, they actually go so far as to show people in the state of dying (one an ODing rocker, the other an over-sexed politician), with another character admonishing them for dying before Amp'd has come out.

Holy unrighteous fuck.

My life can't meet it's fated end without buying your hyped swiss army phone? I'm not allowed to be reunited with my lost loved ones before paying out the ass for a SECOND broadband service? I can't cross over to the next life without first trading mp3s and downloading music videos on another personal electronics device?

That may be the most offensive advertisement I've ever seen (this from the guy who's seen the TIDE detergent ad with an Asian dry-cleaner whose customer says, "Ancient Chinese secret, huh?").

Motherfucker.

I'll remember to leap onto the casket of the first of my friends to die, clawing at the corpse, screaming, "You sonofabitch! The next gen eye implants were only two months away! What the fuck is wrong with you?!"

Hair

2005-12-25T15:43:00.000-08:00

Every person that came here looking for a musical revue can march right back to your favorite fetish site because I ain't talkin' about that.

On my most recent trek through Wikipedia, the best organization for free infromation I've yet encountered on the net, I read through the listing, "Hairstyles."

It's interesting to me, because my own hair is noticeably different than my peers, being fairly short like a crew cut, but also paired with a significant goattee. There are several hairstyles similar to a crew cut, or even variants of what some would identify as a "crew cut." The point is, it's interesting how we specifically style these dead cells erupting from our cranial epidermis*, and how these can have social relevance.

*(I like big words that are unnecessary)

How often do we notice hair? Is your mother's or father's hair a topic of discussion, or do you go out of your way to not comment on it? Does your lover know you love/hate their current style? Are you regarded as less because of your hairstyle?

Hard to say. Hair, at least head hair, is very easy to customize what with dies, length, texture and volume. But, any change is relatively irreversible the more things you do to it. More investment leads to greater impact. Less hair, less to work with. More dye, less you can re-dye sooner.

Some hairstyles are inherently considered "dirty" or "mangy" regardless of the rest of a person's appearance, and some are considered "elegant" or "mature." This can easily change a lot, but even across vast regions, some conceptions stay the shame.

It's easy enough for some people to say, "it's just hair," but when these same ideas apply to clothes, height, weight, skin color, gender or age, things take on a deeper meaning.

For your own investigations: http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Category:Hairstyles

Boho Whatsis?

2005-12-17T22:59:00.000-08:00

The word Bohemian, in the context I'm using it, first comes from 19th century France.

Bohemian (boho for short) is defined in The American College Dictionary as "a person with artistic or intellectual tendencies, who lives and acts with no regard for conventional rules of behavior."

I'd have to agree to having unconventional social practices and disregard for traditional behavior. But a look at the original workings of bohemianism shows where cracks begin to appear:

1) I do not fully reject materialism, but I like to believe the items I use most and have the most "need" for have utilitarian value. Form follows function to me.

2) I adhere to disciplined codes of behavior to minimize the damage I might cause to others, including sexual behavior and intoxicant use. Wanton sex and drugs can make you feel great, despite the fact you're shitting all over someone else at the time. I would rather not leave such a capricious and inconsiderate legacy. Others may be carefree with my heart, but I will not reciprocate.

3) Money as a goal itself leads to nothing. Money as a means to an end... With proper funding, greater projects and works can be undertaken, greater charity and philanthropy are possible. Lots of money (or capital) means lots of potential.

In its essence, bohemian is both a term for counter-culture adherent, as well as a culturally timestuck characterization, not really existing outside its setting, much like a "real" flapper or "real" hippie. These terms existed in their timeframe, but became something else beyond them, despite whoever tried to continue the lifestyle.

I am not a bohemian, because I do not live in squalor yet exert a grand artistic creativity and independence.

I am a bohemian because my creativity and intelligence are unbound by conventional bias or the belief in "one way."

To be honest, I call myself a bohemian because I bathe more than hippies, wear brighter clothes than goths, wear less obtrusive clothes than punks, and act more laid back than a preppy.

I also enjoy wearing sandals a lot.

Beats the hell out of tying laces.

That Time of Year...Whatever It's Called

2005-12-17T22:35:00.000-08:00

In recent years, a divide between religious Conservatives and politically correct Liberals has basically torn apart everything that was once disputed with a smile and playful shove. Now people are decrying the non-use of "Christmas" in public messages and greetings or requesting we not have too much Christian iconography around public buildings.

What do I say to people who wish me good tidings for the new year?

"Happy Winter Solstice"

The Winter Solstice is when the Sun is at its lowest point on the celestial equator, or more generally, when it's incredibly fucking cold in the Northern Hemisphere.

It's a cold, dead time of year, perhaps when you're reminded of lost friends or lovers, or how long it's been since...something. The next few months aren't going to be much better, and despair runs in excess in many places.

Since human culture has existed, there was celebration around the day (usually Dec. 21st or 22nd) when winter was it's bleakest, earliest. Christians and non-Christians alike celebrate Christmas as a time for exchanging gifts and spreading goodwill even when one is only given bad.

Whether or not you wish to make it a religious holiday is irrelevent. The season is for everyone to mark time on their calenders (and in their lives) and take note of accomplishments, failures, and opportunities in the new year.

Whatever your beliefs, just don't be a dick this winter, because that's not anybody's definition of good holiday spirit.