Saturday Movie Meme Thing

Saturday Movie Meme thing

Haven't done one of these in a little while.

1. The last movie you went to see in a theater:

Went to see Sin City a couple of weeks ago. I liked it quite a bit. I'd kinda like to hit Kung Fu Hustle and Hitchhiker's Guide, while they're out.

2. The last movie you watched at home:

I'd had Hotel Rwanda sitting on top of the Teevee for a week and a half before finding an evening to watch it. It's a good one.

3. How many movies do you own?

Don't know for sure. Is it too many? Or not enough? All I know is that some days, I'll wander down to the movie shelf, looking for something to watch, and I'll stare at the goodly number of choices there, but walk away with nothing, saying "I've already seen all those...."

4. Got Netflix (or a similar service)?

Yeah, I'm on the Netflix. But I'm finding that now that baseball season's here, and we've got satellite service up here on the hill, I'm not watching as many movies as I was. What's more, so I've not been in the mood much to sit and watch a movie. I'm going to either cancel my account for the duration of the baseball season, or move to a cheaper plateau on Netflix's service scale. I'm just not getting my money's worth out of it.

5. List five movies you adore (or mean a lot to you.)

You know, I still feel like a kid any time I watch the original Star Wars.

Shawshank Redemption. This is Spinal Tap. Blazing Saddles.

I'm having trouble with a fifth, so I'll just say Transformers: the Movie.

6. What’s in the Netflix queue?

I've got Saw coming to the house today or Monday. Next up, Pale Rider, Lost in La Mancha, the Seven Faces of Dr. Lao, and the House of Flying Daggers.....

Note to Self

Note to Self

There is a small but essential difference between a boxing competition being held under the banner of the Junior Olympics and one held under the watch of The Special Olympics.

Tommy, please learn to read signs a little more carefully.

I didn't read the sign right.

I spent the better part of the afternoon pondering the logistics of putting Special Olympians in the boxing ring. What's training like? What kind of protective gear is there? How many rounds? What do you do to rile the fighters up?

I'm a little sad to admit that I was, indeed, quite curious. Curious enough, even, to head out by the Regional Park, where they were holding the event.

But it's Junior Olympians.

Chris Candido

Chris Candido

Chris Candido has passed away. He suffered a pretty gruesome ankle injury at NWA-TNA's last pay-per-view. At this point, it looks like a complication resulting from the surgery he had to repair that ankle is to blame for his death. Rick Scaia has the news, and a nice overview of Candido's career.

Velleity

Velleity

I'm reading through Bill Bryson's The Mother Tongue: English and How it Got That Way on my lunch breaks this week. In a chapter on where words come from, he gave me a very cool word:

Some of these words deserve to be better known. Take velleity, which describes a mild desire, a wish or urge too slight to lead to action....

If I ever decide to change the name of my blog, I think velleity might be a perfect choice. There are some days where I don't rise much above velleity.

What the hell am I talking about? There are years where I don't get much past velleity....

In the same paragraph, he addresses the word "ugsome," a late medieval word meaning loathsome or disgusting. Seems like I've run across that one before, though I couldn't say where. It fits. It's a word that looks like what it means. I really want to whip "ugsome" at somebody in an argument now.

Mostly Baseball Thoughts from the Ass End of the Night

Mostly Baseball Thoughts from the Ass End of the Night

Haven't had an insomnia post for a while. Been up for an hour or so. Kinda contemplating not even going back to bed, because I'll just have to get up in an hour, anyway.

Did want to note before I start that I ate supper with Eric from Straight White Guy last night. Couple of beers. Some spicy chicken. A bit of conversation. Good stuff.

Okay, so I can't sleep, right? I get onto the interweb and what do I see? Well, the Cubs did ultimately lose their game with the Reds. I heard as I was wandering towards sleep last night, listening to the Braves broadcast on the radio. I hear that Big Z also got kicked out. That's what? 2 times in four starts? Five starts?

Didn't see the game. Haven't seen highlights. Did he throw at Kearns?

I would have. I have an irrational dislike for Austin Kearns. I don't understand why, either.

That being neither here nor there, we gotta do something to calm Big Z down a little bit. I like the fire. But I'm afraid he's gonna pull out a gun and shoot an umpire and/or an opposing player some time this season. I just can't get behind that. I don't like umpires or any of the St. Louis Cardinals either, but we can't count on Mark Prior or Mrs. Wood to start 30 times. We don't need to see Zambrano-doubtful (incarcerated) in the newspaper.

Also, I see that the hated New York Yankees win their game.

But not only that, a certain bajillionaire gets 10 RBI's in the game. Which sucks doubly. I mean, the Yankees win on the shoulders of that onslaught, which is bad enough. But also, every player on my fantasy league team, with the exception of Dontrelle Willis, who was like my 18th round pick, decided to start slowly this season, and it is only now that I have managed to put together a string a solid days. I climb out of the cellar this weekend, and what happens?

Last place Steven has his ARod, behind that 10 RBI performance, and combined with Zambrano's combination throwing beachballs for the Cincinnati Reds to hit and temper tantrums, I'll probably fall into last place again.

Maybe I should pick up Emil Brown. As a good luck charm.

Brief Wrasslin' Thought

Brief Wrasslin Thought

Last night's interview promo with Shawn Michaels and Hulk Hogan was interesting, because in the space of three minutes, they managed to touch on four different interview and promo types.

It starts out with your typical WWE interview from the past three or four years, where you have just some random pretty face interviewing the wrestler, with Jonathan Coachman, who could be this generation's Mean Gene but isn't yet, interviewing Michaels. Michaels gets irritated with Coach, and he shoves him out of the picture.

With Michaels talking directly to the camera, and by extension, we the wrestling fans, it becomes for a short time, the ECW promo, where it's up the wrestler to communicate with the fans without the benefit of an interviewer to provide an outline.

Within seconds, with Hulk Hogan enters the fray, it becomes a WCW/End of Nitro interview. All Nitros seemed to end with an interview, and it's a stretch, I like to think this segment of the interview, with Shawn and Hogan talking to each other, takes us back to that era.

And then, Hogan pulls Mean Gene Okerlund into the teevee and it becomes a WWF/Hulkamania era interview, with Mean Gene playing straight man to both Hogan, and Michaels.

One other thought...I was kinda wondering about the outcome of the Regal match until I realized the WWE propensity for having a guy job and/or get a beatdown in his hometown. It's the WWE Hometown Beatdown, and Regal was this week's recipient.

Regal's book might be an interesting read. He's an old carnival type. Got his start in a throw-back kind of way that most of the guys in the squared circle missed, nowadays

Let's go to work....

Sunday Morning

Sunday Morning


Howdy, and Good Morning.

Doesn't Butts and Hampton sound like an old vaudeville comedy act? Or perhaps a duo that tours the supper clubs?

Spent part of the weekend down in Atlanta.

Took in a Braves game.

Spent the better part of the game laughing myself sick a Butts's name.

It was a cool night, down in Atlanta. A cold front moved through much of the south over the course of the weekend. Game time temperature was in the low fifties, and it dipped into the high thirties as the game went on. A cold wind blew straight at our right field seats most of the night. Most of us came prepared. One frat boy sitting below us showed up in a golf shirt and shorts, and he had moved into an upright fetal position by the fifth inning.




It felt like a late fall game. With everybody bundled up, like that.

With the final score of 11-1, it wasn't much of a game. I don't think the Phillies actually intended to play.

I think Jim Thome misunderstood when they said "Let's get some runs!"

Batting Practice highlight: watching some big giant Philadelphia player (the program would suggest that at 6'6", Ryan Madson was probably the guy) nearly get decapitated by a fly ball off the bat of Bobby Abreu during the Phillies batting practice. Madson had his back to the plate, as he was too busy talking to a couple of girls in the stands in right field.

Also, the picture didn't come out well, but Chip Caray was in the fan concourse before the game, answering fan questions. I got there late, but I did hear him saying how much he liked working with his Dad, Skip, and he recommended a couple of places in Chicago for ribs. I was too distracted by his giant eyebrows to think of a cogent question.

A brief note on Raul Mondesi: I don't know what the over/under is on his flakeout. Judging by just how much attention he was paying to the taunting one really drunk guy in right was giving him, for no reason that I could ascertain, I think Raul might go batshit before the All-Star break....

The Fart Pen Scares the Cat

The Fart Pen Scares the Cat

I got a Fart Pen for Christmas. It's shaped like a finger, and when you pull it, it makes fart sounds. Sometimes, when I'm blue, I'll pull the finger out of the cup, and let it make farting sounds until my heart's content.

I enjoy the fart pen.

My favorite fart noise that it makes? The long, wet sounding one.

A moment of great joy fell upon me a few minutes ago: the fart pen scares the cat.

I was making the fart pen make its farting sounds. The interweb wasn't amusing me, so I pulled the fart pen out of the pen cup, and letting the pen make fart noises. The cat was sitting on the bookshelf (the cat tells me to call it a catshelf, since it's successfully pushed every book off that particular shelf), and the cat was staring at me and my fart pen as if I were holding an instrument of the devil himself.

Of course, I power trip a little, and go chasing the cat around the room, pulling the fart pen, making it fart all the while.

I got bored of this game after a few minutes. I'm not a bully. The fart pen's only funny for a little while (41 minutes).

Also, the cat's looking at me like she won't be happy until she's eating the eyes out of my dead skull. Fart pen revenge.

That kind of scared me. So I've put the fart pen away.

Counting this sentence, I have written the word "fart" 18 times in one post.

Why? Because it's Farty Friday.

Celebrate Farty Friday in your own way, but be careful about taking your religion to work.

Yeah. Freedom of Religion is all cool in this Country, until somebody comes to work celebrating "Farty Fridays."

(21)

A few links, in celebration:

Mike Toole, for making the correct observation in this post that "farting is hilarious."

Jake, who doesn't blog anymore, had this post a long time ago about a fart war gone badly.

And I'd link to fart.com, except they threw a couple of popups my way. Even though the blocker caught them, it pissed me off a bit. I will say that you might want to check them out for the Farting George Bush doll.

I won't buy it, that Farting George Bush doll.

A Farting Pope Doll, however, might be a little more worth my hard earned money....

Final Fart Count: 28.

A fart count personal best. (29).

I Hates Me Some Yankees

I Hates Me Some Yankees

I've joined the Alliance.

I'll be doing a little extra writing, in the name fighting the great and ponderous Empire.

Our transmissions come from our Hidden Rebel Base....

The Quotable BSTommy

The Quotable BSTommy

To fellow blogger Charlie, in a typical conversation between us:

We do what we're supposed to do. We all have our roles in life to play. It's mine to squash the spiders and unclog the toilets. It's yours to travel backward through time, fighting unspeakable evils....

Speaking

Speaking

Your Linguistic Profile:

65% General American English

30% Dixie

5% Yankee

0% Midwestern

0% Upper Midwestern

What Kind of American English Do You Speak?

5% Yankee? I will burn the internet down for spreading such a lie.

Also: A hardcore southerner will refer to that thing you carry your groceries home in as a "poke."

Seen at A Small Victory.

The Columbo Post

The Columbo Post

One more thing....

The Pope generally arises from among the Cardinals, right?

So could we see Tony LaRussa as pope?

And if we could, do you think he'd adjust the Pope Hat so that it doesn't muss his hair?

Tuesday

Tuesday

A couple quick thoughts before I wander into the day.

The Evil Hippy is having computer/communication difficulties. He hasn't been able to update for a little while. The situation should be rectified before too much longer.

----

I have poison ivy on my belly. I don't know exactly how it got there. I'm pretty sure I picked it up during the family get-together this weekend. It's been suggested that I caught it during the family obstacle course challenge, when I crawled under the razor wire.

I tend to think I picked it up during the Break Dance Contest. I came in third, but the final standings are in protest, as I feel the only proper place to lay out your cardboard is on pavement or sidewalk. The hardpacked dirt on the edge of the woods isn't an acceptable surface. My errant backspin into the woods is testimony to this.

----

The Conclave is the hardest part. I've interviewed for the position of "Pontiff." Now we're waiting. To be frank, I'm not optimistic. I kinda fudged on my work experience, and I didn't get a good response when I said I'd like my Pope Name to be Pope Beefcake the I. Also, showing up drunk to the interview, in retrospect, was something of an error.

They said "Don't call us, we'll call you."

A couple quick wrasslin' thoughts

A couple quick wrasslin' thoughts

When I saw that Shawn Michaels and Muhammed Hassan were wrestling right before the changeover to the 10 o'clock hour on Raw last night, I was pretty sure that the Great Red and Yellow Devil himself would show up. It's a ratings bump. Even at age 109, Hogan could be, in the short term, one of the top draws in wrestling.

But how did Raw capitalize on that energy?

With the Chris Masters Masterlock challenge in the very next segment? Bill made the point that Raw already has one Randy Orton. We didn't need him, and we really don't need another.

If I'd been putting things together for the show last night, I'd have put the Chris Masters segment earlier in the show, and put Shelton Benjamin/Chris Jericho segment right after the Hogan segment.

Speaking of Jericho/Benjamin? They should make it a term of their matchup at the next PPV that if Shelton loses to Jericho, he has to use "Shelton is a Little Bitch" as his theme song.

And I realized during the Christian/Vince McMahon segment that Christian's become one of my favorites. I think he's been up there for a while, but I've never realized it in a conscious, out-loud way.

A decent effort from Raw, though I'm getting a little sick of the show being on Triple H's shoulders. And I don't like the way Batista's title reign is shaping up, so far. I think he's being set up for a fall....

Recommended Reading

Recommended Reading

A very sleepy Tommy wants to direct you to the newest issue of the once-again resurrected Oxford American. This is the food issue. Good writing, as usual, but this issue wanders through the kitchens, cafeterias, diners and bbq pits all across the south, bringing you some awesome reflections on southern cuisine.

I particularly enjoyed Paul Reyes' essay on the southern fast food culture, Though the Past (Sort Of) Darkly.

Dennis Covington has a nice piece on Chicken Fried Steak. I like Covington's work a lot, and was happy to see something I hadn't read from him here. I like his work for reasons more instinctual than cogent. I can also say that his essay on Chicken Fried Steak, which can't be more than 500 words, made me laugh out loud and want to cry in the space of a couple of minutes.

My favorite piece, though, and the one I write all this for when I am literally about to fall out, is the wonderfully odd and strangely nostalgic piece brought on by a can of dog food, written by Lewis Nordan, simplyed titled "Good Times: the Cupboard was Not Utterly Bare."

He paints a picture.

I am there with the boys in a Airstream trailer, finding no food to eat but this can of dog food.

I share in the curiosity.

I feel the tension.

I laughed with the result.

Anyway. This has been my commercial for this issue of Oxford American. Give it a look.

The First Bat Race of Spring

The First Bat Race of Spring

Dude. I loves me some Minor League Baseball. The Chattanooga Lookouts opened the home portion of their schedule this weekend. Hit two games. They played the Cubs' Double A affiliate, the West Tennessee Diamond Jaxx, so seeing some of the Cubbies farmhands was a treat.



The first bat race of spring. Bat Race 2005: This year, we wear the sombrero.

Went Saturday with Steven. Went with the folks, the sister and her fiance Sunday.

West Tennessee won each of the contests. Maybe a couple of thoughts on individual performances later. I will say that Jae Kuk Ryu was bringing it Sunday, and for the first five innings, he kept the Lookouts guessing.

It is in the heat of battle that we learn where our priorities lie. I missed a foul ball on Sunday. A high pop up, and I lost it in the sun, myself. It hit five rows in front of us, bounced off the concrete in my direction. It brushed my fingertips. But I didn't get it. I might have had it, except that I wasn't willing to push my mother down for it.

At least, not at a minor league game.

Now we know. And knowing is half the battle.

Play Misty For Me

Play Misty For Me

Woke up early this morning, without intending to. Even on the day off, can’t sleep late. Even after getting in late.

It’s not super early. But I’d had visions of sleeping until 10. Didn’t work out that way.

Popped in one of the movies from Netflix that I’ve had sitting on top of the teevee for a week now.

Right after I saw Million Dollar Baby, I went through and added a what of Clint Eastwood’s directorial stuff I hadn’t seen into my queue. A couple of them have wandered up to the top, lately.

Got Play Misty For Me. A nice little suspense type flick, with Clint starring as DJ Dave, stalked by a crazed fan, who’s played scarily well by Jennifer Walter, who’s currently starring as the matriarch of the Bluth clan on a certain favorite teevee show of mine.

Like I said. A cool kinda suspense flick. Good, but not great. It tells the story it sets out to tell, which doesn’t sound like much, but so many flicks miss that boat. Clint’s movies, even at this early stage of his directorial career, have good focus in what they intend to do (although, this one has an overly long digression where a lot of the characters attend a jazz-type festival....seriously, it’s like a ten minute section. It’s almost like Clint said “we shot the footage on an off day, let’s jam it in there....”)

Lots of late 70's vibe to the movie.

Because I can’t be satisfied with things, I do have a couple more complaints about the flick.

At one point, when things between Clint’s DJ Dave and Jennifer Walter’s stalker Evelyn (Whoa! She almost has the word Evil in her name!) have swirled down the shitter, Dave has the nightmare where Annabel goes to stab him in the head with a butcher’s knife. It’s a dream most of us have had, right fellas? Well, DJ Dave is so shaken by the nightmare that he wanders around the house in his undies, making sure Jennifer Walter’s not there to stab him in the face (again, ain’t we all been there?).

But Clint does his reconnaissance in tightie whities. That’s lunacy of the highest order, my friends. I’d never in a bajillion years have figured Mr. Eastwood for a tightie whitey (2 spellings in the same paragraph) wearer. I’m thinking Clint would go either Boxers, or Commando before donning the briefs. I mean, that just lowers Clint a level or two on the coolness scale, doesn’t it? It’s very difficult to be tough while strolling your house in short shorts. If there somebody who could have done it, I would have thought it would be Clint. But I have been harshly disproven.

Maybe he did go commando, but for the sake of getting a viewable rating for their flick, he had to don whatever undies were available to him. Maybe he had to borrow them off a grip.

Clint (squint-eyed): I need your drawers.
Grip: What?
Clint: I need your underwear. To get a good rating.
Grip: Umm. Okay...
Clint: I'll give'em back when I'm done.
Grip: Uhhh...that's okay...you just keep'em.
Clint (pulls a gun): I said I'll give'em back. And you'll wear'em!
Grip: Yessir.

Also:

Maybe it’s because I’ve got Dirty Harry on the brain (and I’ve got it so bad I’m calling in sick tomorrow), but I tend to think a Clint character from the Dirty Harry era of movies might not be so believable to be stuck in this bind with a crazy stalker character. I mean, people gotta be asking themselves: “Why isn’t he just pulling out a gun and shooting her?”

To close:

The title “Play Misty For Me” comes from the fact that the stalker calls in to request the song “Misty” on Dave’s radio show.

It’s a good, easy title to throw into the title of a flick.

Harder to put into a title, but would perhaps make it easier to spot loonies, if they kept calling in to request such song:

The Name Game.

Play The Name Game For Me.

Just doesn’t have the same ring.

But if somebody kept calling into my radio show asking me to play “The Name Game,” they might be a little easier to spot, if I’m at a bar being tended by my directorial mentor.

Also:

Play Sloop John B For Me.
Play Nine to Five For Me.
Play Santa Claus is Coming to Town For Me
Play The Brady Bunch Theme For Me
Play North to Alaska For Me
Play The Battle Hymn of the Republic For Me
Play Where is Thumbkin For Me
Play The Oscar Meyer Weiner Song For Me
Play Spirit in the Sky For Me
Play the Live Version of Cheap Trick’s Surrender For Me
Play the short version of American Pie For Me
Play that Steve Martin King Tut song For Me
Play the Canadian National Anthem For Me
Play When Johnny Comes Marching Home Again For Me
Play the 1812 Overture For Me
Play Rapture For Me
Play Happy Birthday For Me
Play Somewhere Over the Rainbow For Me
Play Freebird For Me.
Play Michael’s Theme from The....

Freebird!!!!!

No Skynyrd.

Freebird!!! Play some Skynyrd!!!!!

No Skynyrd. No Freebird.....

Arrested Development

Arrested Development

Stew hit on this in a comment, and it's something I'd been meaning to say all week, but kept forgetting to do. It's Saturday, and I don't get as many people coming by on Saturday. My blog's mostly for dicking around at work....

But that's neither here nor there.

The Season Finale of Arrested Development plays tomorrow night. As things stand now, it's on the bubble for renewal for next season. It couldn't hurt to have a bunch of folks watching the thing, to show Fox that Hey! it can draw a few viewers, after all. So, watch the show. Especially if you've got one of those lovely, lovely Nielsen boxes....

I don't like repeating posts, so much. But I think something I said about Arrested Development a few weeks ago might be appropriate. So, as a Saturday best of, here's something I wrote just a few weeks ago, on the fine TV show that is Arrested Development, dated March 1, 2005:

Except for the Simpsons, I've got a bad track record with my favorite TV shows, especially if they run on Fox. The Tick. Undeclared. Andy Richter Controls the Universe. Futurama (yeah, it ran a few seasons but it was pre-empted for football so much I didn't see a lot of the episodes until Cartoon Network picked it up).

Arrested Development is the only show I set aside time to watch nowadays. Yeah, I watch the Simpsons, mainly because it comes on right before Arrested Development. In the past couple of seasons, it's lost its "I'm there, period" status.

Well, word going around is that it's facing cancellation once again. At the very least, it's had its episode order cut to 18, to make room for American Dad.

All this from the same network that runs a karaoke contest judged by a snotty Brit and a used up pop star three times a week.

And the thing is, I'm not taking a shot at the network. They aired the bugger in the first place, and had faith enough in it to run it a second season, in a money slot right behind The Simpsons.

Joe America doesn't want to watch.

Well. Joe America can have its karaoke contests, its suck up to a corporate mogul shows, its eat-a-bug shows and its wife-swapping/find-a-husband/trade-your-kids/get-a-nanny reality shows. Me? I get enough of the sad high-school-type/clash-of-psychoses dramas at my job every day just so that I don't need to watch the Puck clone fight with the Richard Hatch clone for three hours on the boob tube each night.

But Joe America can have that. Six days a week, three hours of primetime programming a night, if they want it.

Give me thirty minutes of smart, expertly written, wonderfully performed comedy. Give me goofy comedy. Give me something that's meant to make me laugh, but doesn't depend on laugh tracks or shots of other characters laughing at something witty or dumb or mean. Give me a comedy that gives me credit that I'll pick up the joke.

Thirty minutes. That's all I ask.

Hell. I'll take both Arrested Development AND American Dad over any of the multitude of reality mess run any day of the week.

But Joe America wants to watch Paris Hilton and Nicole Richie pretend to be average joes, but not two half hour comedies.

I had a point here.

Oh yeah.

There's one of those online petitions. Sheila had a link up. I never know how much good these things do. But I figured it couldn't hurt to put my name down. You put your name down too.

And do one more thing.

Watch Arrested Development. Watch the show.

I give Arrested Development my highest recommendation.

This doesn't come from the guy who likes Police Academy movies and watches likes the best efforts of TV shows and movies even when they fall short of their intended goals.

This comes from the guy who knows that good intent and good execution are a rare, rare tandem.

Arrested Development is the very best comedic intent, the very best effort and the very best result of TV comedy that you're gonna get. It lets you laugh at what you want to laugh at, and it doesn't tell you what you need to. It's secure enough in its humor that it doesn't need you to laugh at everything.

Hell. I can't think of the number of things I've missed because I was laughing at something else. It's a show that warrants multiple viewings. It's the only thing I can think of that's been on network TV the past couple of seasons that I can say that about. I watch it, and then I say "I need to see that again."

Well. I'm off on a rant here. I'll get off it.

Watch the show. Sign the petition.

Y'all think on it.

Friday

Friday

It's been a busy week round these parts. There's that old saying about all work and no play, but I was really a dull boy to begin with.

If the on-air staff at ESPN were turned into zombies, I don't know whether I'd enjoy dispatching Steven A. Smith or Mel Kiper, Jr. more.

And with all these ads for Battle of the NFL Stars, I keep hearing the term "War Canoe." Don't know if it's any fun to play, but it sure does sound like a good name for a band.

Shit. Just realized how late I am. Maybe there will be better blogging next week. But I doubt it.

The New Wheels

The New Wheels



I've decided that this is how I will travel to and fro.

Shout Out

Shout Out

A shout out. To Rob, the Uncouth Sloth.

Being a Chicago Cub fan in Tennessee, it puts you out of the loop, sometimes. I mean, sure, you get the WGN and you can get the Comcast sports on satellite, and on a clear night, you can get WGN radio clear as a bell up here on the hill.

But you miss a bit being in the area of your team.

Rob's a bit closer to the picture? As such, he's able to take care of a couple of people outside the loop...

He sent me a Cubs "Believe" band. Because as Cubs fans, we are rewarded for our loyalty and diligence by getting to wear Cubbie blue rubber bands on our wrists. And now I get to join the throng.

But not only that. That would have been enough. That would have made my day. Surprise mail? Yeah. That would have been enough.

But wait, there's more.

He sent me a hat.

A Cubs cap.

A retro-style Cubs cap, modeled after the model the 1914 Cubbies wore (Stew, that outdates even you, if I recall).

But not only that! Rob sent a fitted Cubs cap.

Which isn't such a huge thing in and of itself. A minor detail, for most of you. A minor detail, unless you're trying to cap a monstrous dome like mine.

See, my head is only slightly smaller than the curvature of the Earth.

The cap? He is size 8 1/4. It is the finest fitting cap I've ever worn. I can make do with a size 8, typically. That'll work for a while until you sweat it up, or let it get wet, at which time one of those woolen badboys shrinks.

8 1/4? He fits nice.

There is even room for my fro, underneath.

Man oh man. I don't know what to say. Thanks, Rob. You're a good dude.

Go check out his work at the Uncouth Sloth, and at the more Cubs-centric site, The Goat Riders of the Apocalypse. He's a Cubs fan from the heart.

Tuesday

Tuesday

A couple of quick thoughts, as I make myself late for work...

The water heater went haywire yesterday. It was a minor mess. Mostly I was relieved it didn't rupture and send scalding water onto me, or blow up while I was in the shower in the bathroom right next to the water heater.

The closest minor league baseball team, the Chattanooga Lookouts, begins their home season this week against the Cubs double A team. Gonna try to hit a couple of games.

Mark Prior starts today, as a collective Cub Nation sits a bit pensive watching. I keep thinking of the Ferris Bueller thing, where he talks about his friend Cameron...if you stuck a lump of coal up our collective asses, in a week you'd have a shitload of diamonds.

I won't lie. Prior's gonna have me on edge most of the season, I think. Part of me's yelling that there's no telling when that elbow's gonna fly apart. Another part of me puts me with John Kruk, who opined in this morning's Sportcenter that Mr. Prior needs to stop thinking of himself as an investment, suck it up and see what he can do pitching through some of that pain.

A brief wrasslin thought:

Okay, so Randy Orton was going in for surgery, right? Why not have new champ Batista completely squash him last week? I mean, it was a good showing for the champ. But let's have Batista completely crush him. Make him a total badass. You don't get much, I don't think, out of saying the Undertaker caused the injury. You get a good rub for your badass champ, though, if you say he completely annihilated Orton so badly he'll need time off.

Also: No surgery footage? There's nothing that makes me scurry from the room like a little girl like seeing one of those surgery shows on Discovery Channel. I don't need shoulder surgery footage on my pro wrasslin....

Okay. Let's go do this Tuesday thing....

Another Funny

Another Funny

Another one from the e-mail:

Four brothers left home for college, and they became successful doctors and lawyers and prospered. Some years later, they chatted after having dinner together. They discussed the gifts they were able to give their elderly mother who lived far away in another city.

The first said "I had a big house built for Mama."

The second said "I had my Mercedes dealer deliver an SL600 to her".

The third said "I had a hundred thousand dollar theater built in the house."

The fourth said, "You know how Mama loved reading the Bible and you know she can't read anymore because she can't see very well. I met this preacher who told me about a parrot that can recite the entire Bible. It took twenty preachers twenty years to teach him. I had to pledge to contribute $100,000 a year for twenty years to the church, but it was worth it. Mama just has to name the chapter and verse and the parrot will recite it."

The other brothers were very impressed.

After the holidays Mom sent out her Thank You notes. She wrote:

To the first son: "Milton, the house you built is so huge. I live in only one room, but I have to clean the whole house. Thanks anyway.

To the second son: "Marvin, I am too old to travel. I stay home; I have my groceries delivered, so I never use the Mercedes. The thought was good. Thanks.

To the third son: "Michael, you gave me an expensive theater with Dolby sound, it could hold 50 people, but all my friends are dead, I've lost my hearing and I'm nearly blind. I'll never use it. Thank you for the gesture just the same.

To the fourth son: "Dearest Melvin, you were the only son to have the good sense to give a little thought to your gift. The chicken was delicious. Thank you."

Today's Funny

Today's Funny

From the e-mail:

A man enters a barber shop for a shave. While the barber is foaming him up, he mentions the problems he has getting a close shave around the cheeks.

"I have just the thing," says the barber taking a small wooden ball from a nearby drawer. "Just place this between your cheek and gum."

The client places the ball in his mouth and the barber proceeds with the closest shave the man has ever experienced.

After a few strokes the client asks in garbled speech. "And what if I swallow it?"

"No problem," says the barber. "Just bring it back tomorrow like everyone else does."

Updating the List

Updating the List

Most of us, if not all, keep a kind of mental list of things we'd do if we ever ran into a large amount of money. You know, if you win the lottery, or have a rich relative leave you a crapload of money.

I know I always have.

And I have a new First Thing I'd Do.

I'd buy a Woolly Mammoth.

Hell yes. I can't think of anything I'd need more, if I won Powerball, than a woolly mammoth to proclaim and announce myself at the top of the financial heap. I would keep him at my house. And I would name him Elvis.

So. I win the lottery. The old #1 moves down a slot:

1. Buy a Woolly Mammoth.
2. Rent TV Time to list all the people who can just kiss my butt.

What happens thereafter is negotiable. Althought somewhat less so now, since I have an eleven-foot-tall source of sweaters to feed and, presumably, comb.

Harlan Ellison

Harlan Ellison

Blogger was constipated in the middle of the week. I wrote this out Wednesday or Thursday, and ended up saving it to my personal journal when I couldn't publish here. It's not exactly what's in my brain, but it does alright. This is a post in which I try talk about one of my favorite writers:

I've been reading through one of the McSweeney's short story collections edited by Michael Chabon, and I got to Harlan Ellison's contribution to the Mammoth Treasury of Thrilling Tales, "Goodbye to All That."

Harlan's one of my favorite writers. He works mainly in the short story medium, so it’s hard to give a description of his body of work. He does so many things that I enjoy that it's tough to single out any particular aspect of his work. I will say that his best stuff is funny and twisted. He’s got a decent curveball, as writers go. He doesn’t necessarily send you for the okey-doke, which is something you can appreciate.

He’s got a master’s way with words. A golden ear for dialogue. A viewpoint that is all his own. A crazy work ethic. A persona that packs more volume, brass and confrontation into the frame of one small man than you'd ever have thought possible (and Harlan’s one of those guys whose reputation and persona are perhaps as famous as, if not more than, his work).

Anyway, I'm reading the story in the compilation, and it's all eerily familiar. Like it's something I've read before. And I'm figuring just that: I've read the story before, but not remembered.

But it's a really funny story, though, of man with incurable wanderlust climbing the final peak on Earth searching for the Meaning of Life (or is it the Heart of Irredeemable Authenticity, or perhaps The Corpus of Nocturnal Perception?).

And it's all so familiar, and all so funny, that I know that if I had read it, I’d remember the experience of reading it. I just knew for a fact that I've never read this one.

And it hits me. It took this phrase: "The Corporeality of the Impossible Metaphor."

Harlan read one of his to-be-published stories to a crowd at Dragon Con a few years back, and this was the story he'd read to us. It didn't hit me until I read that phrase, "the Corporeality of the Impossible Metaphor" that I realized it.

And Harlan, as he read, loaded each stilted phrase with all the pomp and grandeur that a phrase of that magnitude deserves. And of all the pompous, pretentious metaphors for Meaning of Life he puts into "Goodbye to All That," I found that one to be the best. Even without seeing it printed on the page, that one rang in my head for a while.

It's a good story. Check it out. Called "Goodbye to All That."

That was the same year I got to see Harlan, in a panel discussion on internet publishing & piracy, light into a young man who argued for a looooong time about the freedom of created works on the internet with Harlan. This kid stood his ground with Harlan, though his argument didn't hold much water. He clung steadfastly to one plank in his argument: "I don't wanna pay for words and ideas."

He got called an ignorant sack of shit by Harlan.

No, it was one of those phrases said through clenched teeth, with fists pressed firmly against the table: You. Ignorant. Sack. Of. Shit.

Harlan was at the time embroiled in a goodly bunch of legal action concerning the illegal distribution of his works online.

(It occurs to me that the panel may not have been expressly intended to be about the internet and/or publish and piracy....either way, Harlan's three ring circus of an argument with the young man took up enough of the discussion time that it became the subject of the discussion, by default. That's a good indicator of his personality...he's loud, brash and confrontational enough that whatever he's passionate about, you're gonna talk with him about. Whether you like it or not. And whether it's just you, or a room filled with a few hundred people.)

Harlan was at Dragon Con last year. I was fortunate enough to find him in a quiet moment. And rude enough to disturb him. I hate bothering any of the guests of a convention when they're lucky to have a quiet moment, especially somebody who carries as much as a following as Ellison. He was scheduled to sign soon, though about 20 minutes later, so I wandered over, said hello.

Got to chat for a little while. Just a couple of minutes. He signed my copy of The Glass Teat, and asked where I'd gotten the copy he was signing. I'd gotten it in a lot off Ebay, I said. My copy of The Glass Teat came from a smaller print run from a publisher in England. Not rare, necessarily, but kinda rare to be seen over in the U.S.

He signed it, and asked whether I'd taken anything from the book, which is a collection of his essays and criticism on the TeeVee. I mentioned that I was taken by his position against President Nixon's White House, and was struck by some of the parallels between that White House and our current administration. He kind of laughed, and nodded.

"That's a pretty good point," he said, but was politic in his further response, saying only that he didn't have time to energy to start on that subject, and that if he did, he didn't know if his ticker could take it.

Not long after I noticed that Harlan was at a signing table by himself, everybody else noticed. We spoke for a minute more, mostly chatting about the convention, and where I'd come from, what I did. I said, kinda sheepishly, that I was trying to be a writer. He told me, essentially, to keep hacking away.

The line started growing behind me, pretty much having materialized out of nowhere. He thanked me for stopping by, and I thanked him for his time.

I generally hate trying to meet someone I admire in those kind of crowded circumstances. Never much of one for forethought, I wander around for days afterward thinking of what I could and should have said in that 2 minute meeting. But I felt pretty good about the little conversation.

Ah well. I'm wandering. That's the story.....

Ain't We All Been There?

Ain't We All Been There?

On the perils of discussing movies with Kid Relish, Latigo Flint says:

Details are sketchy on this one, but apparently Kid has devised a complicated argument trap that ultimately ends with you admitting that Denzel Washington is a racist because he never acted in a movie with Kiefer Sutherland. If you later reverse yourself, he overpowers you and makes you repeatedly backhand your date in the face with your own hand....

Whadup

Whadup

Hallo. Mein Name ist Tommy. Mein ungewöhnlich großer Kopf ist gefüllte Bienen und Honig. Ich habe vor Pooh Angst.

Thoughts From the Ass End of the Night

Thoughts From the Ass End of the Night

The insomnia post. It's been a while.

Random News and Views:

Charlie's started a blog. God help us all.

Saw Chip Caray was broadcasting with Don Sutton on the Braves TBS broadcast tonight. He made a couple of jokes about his old digs, up in Chicago, and a couple more at old partner Steve Stone's expense. It all seemed in good nature, but I can't help but think somewhere tomorrow, Steve Stone will be heading to Circuit City to buy a new teevee, on account his old one's been all shot full of holes with his gun.

I realized the other day that I really don't like guys who wear cowboy hats.

McMother.

Early

Early

It's way too early. It's been a whole week of way too early. And if current trends continue, it's gonna be a whole shitload of way too early. I've been getting up early to write for a while. I'll wake up before the sun, sit my ass in front of the computer, throw something loud into the CD player and hack away at it for an hour or two, until I have to start getting ready for real life.

I've been having to go into work earlier. We've changed some responsibilities around at work, and I get to come in early becasue of it. In order to keep writing, I've been getting up even earlier. Like crazy early. Like George Noory and Coast to Coast AM are still on, early. Combine that with the switch to Daylight Savings, and my body says its an hour earlier still.

Body: Dude, what are you doing getting out of bed?
Me: Gotta write.
Body: What? That fucking zombie story again? Go back to bed.
Me: Gotta do it. And it's not about zombies.
Body: Dude! You're the zombie. It's like 1:45 in the morning.
Me: No, it's 4:30.
Body: No, I'm telling you with the time change, and all the time zones, it's like 1:45 in the morning.
Me: What, are we on Pacific time?
Body: It's where they tape the Price is Right, isn't it?
Me: Huh?

I gotta find a way to write other than early in the morning. I like the early mornings, because I'm not disturbed. By other people, anyway. And my head's not mucked up by the detritus of the day's dealing's.

Plus, I'm going on like 5 hours sleep. Which may be enough for some of you, but I'm a pansy and feel like a frigging zombie after five days of this. So I don't write much, and what I do write isn't worth much. Tomorrow I'll sleep in, and we'll just holler at everyone not to bother me in the evening.

The Lawnmower

The Lawnmower

I can't tell you how much good it did my heart to see the Cubs not just playing, after this long winter; not just winning, against the Diamondbacks; but to see them do so in resounding fashion, and doing so by actually manufacturing a few runs.

Yeah, there were a couple long balls. But the Cubbies actually moved runners over, didn't seem to be swinging for the fences. The weird thought that ran through my head in this first game: Oh no! They're going to finish off their manufacturing quota in the first game!

Then Corey Patterson took a walk. That's his quota for the month.....

It's early. I wanted Big Z to get that last out in the fifth, to get the win. Not only because he's on my fantasy team, but because I wanted him to grab the "hoss" title from the get-go. Don't want him losing his cool at umpires in Game 1.

But I ain't bitching. We won. Let's get about 95 more of these sunsabitches....

Baseball Season

Baseball Season

Yeah. It's not spring until Baseball Season starts for real.

Cubs and Diamondbacks. Just about the time I'm getting off work. Talk about timing.

Stupid Yankees, beating the Sox. Randy Johnson was unpleasant to look at before he donned the pinstripes. He's downright fugly now.

A serious question though:

Does anybody get the Extra Innings package on the satellite? Any Cubs fans? Is it worth the cost?

Sin City

Sin City

Just a note:

I liked the Sin City movie. Well done. Very enjoyable. Faithful to the comic, down to panel-to-panel recreations of Frank Miller's work. So faithful that Rodriguez shared his director's billing with Miller.

It's nice to see a filmmaker believe so much in the source material that he's willing to butt heads with people over just how much credit he wanted or, in Robert's case, didn't want to take.

The Director's Guild wouldn't let him share director's billing, so he resigned from the union.

"Toodle-oo!" he said. And then he spent the afternoon scoring two movies, editing a third, writing the next Spy Kids adventure, making a sandwich, and then editing the full length feature he'd shot that morning.

Good stuff in the movie. Gotta love Mickey Rourke as Marv. Rosario Dawson and Clive Owen both do excellent jobs.

I liked me some Sin City.

Favorite Wrestlemania Matches

Favorite Wrestlemania Matches

A few of my favorite Wrestlemania matches (Or: Tommy reveals himself as a Bret Hart Mark):

1. Bret Hart vs. Shawn Michaels, Iron Man Match, Wrestlemania XII
2. Ricky Steamboat vs. Randy Savage, Wrestlemania III
3. Bret Hart vs. Owen Hart, Wrestlemania X
4. Chris Benoit vs. Kurt Angle, Wrestlemania X-Seven
5. Bret Hart vs. Steve Austin, Wrestlmania XIII
6. Chris Benoit vs. Triple H vs. Shawn Michaels, Wrestlemania XX
7. Bret Hart vs. Rowdy Roddy Piper, Wrestlemania VIII
8. Shawn Michaels vs. Razor Ramon, ladder match, Wrestlemania X
9. Hulk Hogan vs. Andre the Giant, Wrestlemania III
10. The Undertaker vs. Diesel, Wrestlemania XII
11. Chris Benoit vs. Chris Jericho vs. Kurt Angle, Wrestlemania 2000
12. Eddie Guerrero vs. Kurt Angle, Wrestlemania XX
13. Rowdy Roddy Piper vs. Mr. T, Boxing match, Wrestlemania II

A couple more Wrestlemania thoughts

A Couple More Wrestlemania Thoughts

Rick Scaia always has a fun feature when Wrestlemania rolls around, on Online Onslaught.

Here's a brief overview on the best and worst Wrestlemania has had to offer...

And, if they intrigue you like they do me, here are a few (quite a few) Wrestlemania Numbers.

Top 5 Wrestlemanias

Top 5 Wrestlemanias

5. Wrestlemania X-7 (2001)

Because all those Roman Numerals are Hard!

Benoit vs. Angle, in a great match. Another crazy-ass match with the Dudleys, the Hardys and Edge & Christian. A really cool match between Triple H & the Undertaker. My favorite match from the card, believe it or not, is Shane McMahon vs. Vince McMahon.

Stone Cold beat The Rock, turning heel in the process, to win the World Title. Stone Cold's heel run, allying himself with his former enemy Vince McMahon in the process, was for me his most entertaining run in the WWF.

4. Wrestlemania XX (2004)

I almost ranked this one a little higher on my list. We're a year removed from what was one of the very best sells leading up to a Wrestlemania by a company, and one of the best executions from top of the card to the bottom.

It helps that two of my favorite performers, Chris Benoit and Eddie Guerrero came out of the show wearing their respective brand's championship belt. The Benoit/Triple H/Shawn Michaels match is very good, if a little busy (I still wish they'd just let it be Benoit vs. Triple H, instead of throwing Michaels into the mix to make sure people would want to see it). Guerrero and Angle hold their own in their match.

It also features Brock Lesnar vs. Bill Goldberg, in what is to date, each man's last match in the WWE. Lesnar went to try professional football. Goldberg, tired of the WWE (Triple H's) politics, wanted out of the picture. The Madison Square Garden fans knew this going into the match. Both participants seem a bit rattled (Brock especially) at the negative vibe coming at them from the crowd.

My favorite match from the card is probably the Chris Jericho/Christian match. Trish Stratus's heel turn is one of the best done at a Wrestlemania. Just expertly done.

3. Wrestlemania XII (1996)

There really wasn't a whole lot that happened on this show. The WWF was still reeling from the first volley of shots in its Monday Night War with WCW. A lot of the card shows a kind of lack of direction. There aren't many big name stars...and what few there are, a lot of them are shoved together in four man and six-man tag matches.

Still, it features three absolutely solid segments.

Roddy Piper and Goldust have a memorable Hollywood Backlot Brawl. Goldust, was doing the gay schtick (which Piper had fought once before, in the form of Adrian Adonis). Piper was acting as Commissioner (Gorilla Monsoon had gotten laid out by The Man They Call Vader, newly entered into the WWF). The two begin the fight in the street. It features an O.J. Simpson White Bronco style chase, and ends with Piper standing victorious. After, of course, we learn what we've always suspected. That Dustin Rhodes wears women's lingerie.

The Undertaker and Diesel wrestle in what is, to my mind, the finest match either big man has ever worked. It's not a slow and plodding affair. It's a quick paced, hard hitting brawl. Diesel, on his way out of the WWF, does the job for Taker, ending what was one of the better feuds the WWF did in that era.

But this card is dominated by what is one of my favorite matches of all time. Bret "the Hitman" Hart and Shawn Michaels put on a clinic of a wrestling match which maintains an incredible amount of intensity for its 60+ minute total. For as much as these two didn't like each other outside the ring, I can't think of mny combination of wrestlers who worked better together inside the ring than Bret Hart and Shawn Michaels (Ricky Steamboat/Ric Flair being the only other tandem that is even in the same ballpark).

These two put on a spectacular match over that 60 minute period, in a time when a 15 minute match is considered long even for a pay per view. It caps off the show brilliantly.

2. Wrestlemania X (1994)

I juggled for a long time, trying to put this one on top.

Another two of my favorite matches came out of this one.

To open the show, Bret Hart faces his brother Owen. As big a Bret fan as I was, I was an even bigger Owen fan. And from a storyline standpoint, I felt like Owen had a legitimate grudge, and that this was an excellent way to kick Owen up to a higher, main event level status. It's a wrestling clinic from the two boys trained in Stu Hart's dungeon. Owen wins with a pin out of nowhere. Which is how it should have been in the see-saw contest.

Shawn Michaels and Razor Ramon put on their memorable ladder match for the Intercontinental Title I remember watching this for the first time and just being completely floored. (Of course, it would be within days that I would first see ECW, which had stuff that made the ladder match in ECW seem like a walk in the park....)

Still, Michaels and Ramon worked well together. Their match manages to carry more psychology then most ECW matches ever could.

And you can't argue with a card that ends up with Bret Hart walking out with the World title on his shoulder. The previous year, Hart had really gotten the short end of the stick. At Wrestlemania IX, he was to defend his title against Yokozuna. The card also featured a returning Hulk Hogan in a tag match. There were last minute politics, and Hart ended up doing the job to Yokozuna, losing the title. then we watched Hogan win the WWF Title for the fifth time.

A year later, Hart got his retribution, taking the title back from Yokozuna. It's hard to have a classic wrestling match against a 500 pound Samoan who couldn't haul ass even in two trips. But somehow, Hart brings Yoko to a watchable match. A good show, from top to bottom

1. Wrestlemania III (1987)

You know, I juggled between putting this one or Wrestlemania X at the top.

Wrestlemania III was probably right about the last Wrestlemania that I believed that the whole shebang was real. I was 10, and in the third grade. I can still remember arguing out on the playground about whether Hulk Hogan could beat Andre the Giant (I was firmly entrenched in the Andre will squash Hulk like a Bug camp).

Hogan and Andre did have their match. Hogan won. Only problem was we in Mrs. Duke's third grade class didn't know the result until the next week when Superstars rolled around. We didn't have PPV in this neck of the woods, and there weren't any closed-circuit locations nearby anyway. So nobody knew. It was a topic of much debate the ensuing week.

Notable matches for the card include the first Roddy Piper retirement. Embroiled in a feud with Adrian Adonis, Piper announced that his match at Wrestlemania III would be his last. He was going to Hollywood to make movies. Piper wins the match with the help of Brutus Beefcake. He shaves Adrian's head. And he retires from active competition. (He'd be back.)

But the best match, easily, was Ricky Steamboat and Randy Savage, for the Intercontinental title. Remember I said I still believed wrasslin' was real in those days, so I hated the shit out of Randy Savage, who was mean to George the Animal Steele, his manager Miss Elizabeth and who had crushed the windpipe of my personal favorite, Ricky the Dragon Steamboat, with the ring bell.

It's still one of the all-time great sells, watching Steamboat writhe in agony, clutching at his neck, after Savage had come sailing off the ropes with the bell, striking Steamboat in the throat.

Steamboat returned from his "crushed larynx" and fought Savage in one of, if not The Best, matches put on at a Wrestlemania. It clocks in right around 15 minutes, if my memory serves, and there are roughly 22,000 near falls in that time period. It just goes back and forth. Savage brings out the ring bell again, but can't use it this time. Steamboat takes the day with another pin that just comes out of nowhere. It's one of the best matches I've ever seen, still today.

Well, that's the top five.

Tonight's #21. Don't know how it'll stack up. I'll be honest and say I'm not optimistic. Somehow, the great shows seem to follow up the next year with not so great ones.

Quickly, parenthetically, the bottom five:

5. Wrestlemania 2
4. Wrestlemania 13 (Hart vs. Austin is a great match)
3. Wrestlemania 11 (L.T. vs. Bam Bam sucked)
2. Wrestlemania 18
1. Wrestelmania 9 (hoo boy, was this one bad....)

This year's show just hasn't had the right vibe to it. It's like they've been throwing crap on a wall to see what sticks since the last Wrestlemania, and they got to a point with this show that they need to go with something, anything, and run. And they were going to promote this show regardless as to whether it was the best they could do or not, simply because it's what they had on the plate.

Plus, the pendulum of favor to the type of wrestlers favored by the WWF has swung from your flyboy technician, Chris Benoit and Jericho types to your powermove, plodding, musclebound freaks, like Batista and Triple H.

Will I watch? Shit no. I never watch live. That shit's like $50. Do I look like I'm made of money? It's just fake fighting. Jeez....

Under the Weather

Under the Weather

I will pay you cash money to rip the sinuses out of my head. Seriously. I just got my tax refund. Just make it painless. As much so as possible.

In lieu of actual content:

Take the quiz: "What does your birth month reveal about you?"

February
Abstract thoughts. Loves reality and abstract. Intelligent andclever. Changing personality. Attractive. Sexy. Temperamental. Quiet, shy and humble. Honest and loyal. Determined to reach goals. Loves freedom. Rebellious when restricted. Loves aggressiveness. Too sensitive and easily hurt. Gets angry really easily but does not show it. Dislike unnecessary things. Loves making friends but rarely shows it. Daring and stubborn. Ambitious. Realizing dreams and hopes. Sharp. Loves entertainment and leisure. Romantic on the inside not outside. Superstitious and ludicrous. Spendthrift. Tries to learn to show emotions.

Seen at Obscurorant....