Tuesday, May 30, 2006

Katie's Sendoff

Katie's Sendoff

Katie Couric had a chimpanzee visit her today on The Today Show. As part of the sendoff she's getting. I thought that was really cool, until I realized that she wasn't going to get to keep Lucky Louie.

That'd be a helluva sendoff, for your services: getting to keep the chimpanzee.

It'd almost make it worth getting up at 3:45 in the morning every morning for the past 15 years.

That's why I couldn't make it on the Today Show. All that constant early-rising. That, and my non-telegenic nature, general ignorance of and apathy for current events, and the complete, violent animosity Al Roker and I would have for each other. But mostly, it'd be the 3:45 in the morning thing.

If I had to be at work that early every day, I might consider just sleeping during the afternoon, and get up around 8 in the evening. Act like a vampire all night, and then go into Rockefeller Center and report on the news with Matt, Al and that chick who I refer to as "Ann Rice," even though I know that's not her name. The problem would be whether I choose to get drunk as I'm up in the middle of the night.

Given my stick-in-the-mud nature, I'd say I'd probably just sit up and read a book, or watch TeeVee.

Or wander the night, fighting crime.

Whichever struck my fancy on that given night. It would largely depend on how cold it was outside. And, of course, how much crime there was to fight.

Speaking of 3:45, do you think Katie wakes up then on her day off? When I had jobs that required my being there early in the morning, one of the things that bugged me was my inability to sleep late on my days off. I had a hotel job one summer that had me getting to work at 4:30 every morning....and on my days off, I could only sleep to 6:30 or 7. Do you think Katie Couric has that problem? What time do you think she'll get up when she's anchoring the CBS News? 10 in the morning? 11?

Have I mentioned Campbell Brown? Why the hell not? Have you seen this woman? She's huge! She's like 6'7". And BeeYooTeeFull. Dude, if you're looking for somebody to play Wonder Woman, this would be the woman to do it.

But I've wandered off my point.

Katie didn't get to keep the Chimpanzee. Which is maybe a gyp. I'd take it as a gyp, but then, I don't have all the nice things that a Katie Couric would have in her home. I tend to think that having a chimpanzee in the house, while cool, would probably be detrimental to any collections of fine art, or fragile china that you might have on the premises. Owing to that chimpanzees like to do hilarious things like tear up fine art, and break fragile china.

But since I own neither fine china nor fine art (with the possible exception of my original one-sheet of the film Police Academy II: Their First Assignment), I think I'd be cool with having a chimpanzee around the house.

If only to have as a conversation piece.

"What's that?"

"That's a bowl of Black Cherry Jell-O."

"No, not that....That!"

"Oh. That's my Retirement Chimpanzee."

If I survive in my current position long enough to have a retirement, I'll say this:

Fuck that "Gold Watch" bullshit.

You know what? I might even forego a pension.

If I can have a Retirement Chimpanzee.

But he can't smoke. I don't want a smoking chimpanzee. In my retirement, I don't know that I'll have the extra money to buy cigarettes (or cigars, or pipe tobacco) for a chimpanzee, especially if I've foregone a pension in favor of said chimpanzee.

Now, if the chimpanzee has money of his own, perhaps through some manner of court settlement or extended lottery winnings, then he can smoke. Outside, or in the garage during winter.

But we'll cross that bridge when we get to it.

I wonder if Katie Couric would let a retirement chimpanzee smoke in the house.

My gut says no, but there's a part of me that thinks she might, on the basis of "as long as he shits in the shitter."

Sunday, May 28, 2006

That Sideshow Bob Was Great

That Sideshow Bob Was Great

Is it possible to punch a movie in the face?

And while I wouldn't punch out of anger--the movie irritated me, what with the short stick Cyclops and Angel get--but not enough to start punching...I figure that if I were able to smack X-Men: the Last Stand upside its head, it might slow down for a second.

Still. I did like that Sideshow Bob as the Beast.

Saturday, May 27, 2006

In which I got nuthin...

In which I got nuthin....

I think I've done this one before. But I got nuthin'. In a dry stretch that's running several weeks, now. Been busy. There's work, and then there's the thing where I've been out trying to have a life that doesn't consist of me sitting in front of a computer.

But still, there are moments where I sit do actually sit in front of a computer, trying to put something worth reading up, and it's not coming. I mean, it's not like I'm writhing in agony to think of something for my piece of shit blog--you don't strain...that's how you blow out an o-ring.

Still, it's kinda annoying. I mean, I gots opinions, I gots smartass comments, I still watch a movie or three. Just ain't puttin' pen to paper, (or fingertips to keyboard, or whatever).


Gonna post this thing here, where it says that if I were a movie, I'd be the movie Apocalypse Now...and go on about my bidness, as it were....

We'll see what else I can come up with....

Friday, May 26, 2006



If I ever find myself passing by a line of people, I often consider the consequences/benefits of running down that line, clotheslining everybody in that line.

Things I wonder:

1. How far down that line of people would I get before I ran out of momentum?

2. How many people would properly sell the thing?

3. How many would no-sell the move completely?

The caveat that I come up with is that if you no-sell the move, you have no legal recourse. You cannot press assault charges. You have issued a non-verbal challenge, and the only ways it can be met are as follows:

a.) I have to bounce off the ropes one more time, to attempt the clothesline once again, leading eventually to you clotheslining me, more than likely.


b.) A Test of strength, which would probably lead into a backslide pin attempt...

I prefer the first, in actuality. It is my biggest fear that I will be defeated with a well executed backslide....and only jobbers get beaten with the backslide....

Sunday, May 21, 2006

Barrett and that other catcher

Barrett and that other catcher...

Dear Michael,

You know, I've been trying to spin your attempted beatdown of A.J. Pierzynski in a positive light, if only for my own edification.

The only positive I can take out of the whole thing is that somebody put one upside A.J. Pierzynski's head. He's always struck me as a loudmouth, whiny piece of shit, and there was a part of me that was very much pleased to see somebody punch him in the head. So, good job there, I guess.

On the other side of things, you could have picked a much better time to have expressed your anger.

The Cubs have been without two strong starters and a first baseman for the biggest part of the season, and now you're looking at a pretty decent sized suspension, too. Every time I start to get optimistic, saying "it can't get much worse," this happens.

Couldn't you have directed that fire somewhere else? Used a little bit of that frustration? Perhaps take a couple of these guys who still can't get the concept of "take a pitch" in hand? Don't punch them down, but use that energy in a positive manner?

I dunno, Michael.

Just seems like this is gonna cost more than it's worth.



Saturday, May 20, 2006

A Brief Preakness Thought

A Brief Preakness Thought

I think "Equine Ambulance" would be a good name for a band.

I'd pay to see them.

Thursday, May 18, 2006

Thursday Miscellany

Thursday Miscellany

What up, G?

Just a couple notes:

Had a group meeting Monday for work, where we did some team-building and analyzed some data from the personality tests we took. Interesting? Out of all the possible outcomes, my District Manager and I fell into the same boat, personality-wise. I think it was more scary for him than it was for me to find that out....

Since I was so close to Atlanta, I wandered down and took in a couple Braves games. Was able to trade for a really great seat right behind homeplate, Tuesday night. Got to stare that crazy Dontrelle Willis delivery right in the face. Monday's game, not so good. Tuesday's 11-inning contest was quite enjoyable....

Got to meet the new kid over at Steven and Janet's house. He's a month old, and he's not mowing the yard yet? We can't mollycoddle these kids...


I think I'm gonna take a few more days break from the blog. Part of it's work...inventory's Monday, so I might have to be at work a little bit more these next few days. So, if I'm not posting, that's probably why....

A Thought Re-Run

A Thought Re-Run

From three years ago:

"Does anybody else, when they hear the phrase "freak accident," think of something along the lines of Michael Jackson running his transfer truck cab over a tricycle-riding Andre the Giant?"

Sunday, May 14, 2006

Family Feud

Family Feud

Going to be away from the computer the next couple of days. There's a doin's a transpirin'.

I do leave you with this thought I had this morning: How many rifts do you think were formed in the families who appeared on the game show Family Feud?

How many pre-existing problems were exacerbated by an appearance on show?

How many sisters or uncles or cousins were never talked to again after they answered "Martin Luther King" for "President they Admired Most" or "Europe" for "Name a country in Asia...?"

How many people got divorced? How many children were disowned?

Not many, I'd say. But I'd reckon that it has happened.

Because $25,000 is a lot of money to lose just because Aunt Sally is an ignorant old fool.

Saturday, May 13, 2006

A lie

A Lie

So this guy, Justin Gatlin, runs a 9.76 100 Meter, and suddenly he gets claim to the title "World's Fastest Man."

About five years ago, I was mowing the yard, and I ran the lawnmower over a yellowjackets' nest. Now, with the mower going, you can't hear the stupid, hole-in-the-ground hiding buggers flying around. But you can feel them sting.

My heavens, can you feel a yellowjacket sting.

Yep. Got stung. Just once. I was mowing, and then I was running.

And I ran from where I was mowing to a nearby rock pond, a distance of precisely 100 meters, to get away from the angry, stinging yellowjackets. And I did so in precisely 9.23 seconds. A full half a second faster than what Mr. Gatlin ran his 100 meter dash.

I contemplated this after I jumped into the pond, and hid from the yellowjackets. As I hid under the water, breathing through a straw that I carry with me for just such an eventuality, I marveled at the fact that I had not only broken the World Record for the 100 meter dash, but obliterated it! I thought about it as the yellowjackets kind of buzzed around, looking to and fro for me. Finally, the swarm formed a question mark in the air, indicating their confusion, and then left to continue sniffing the garbage cans.

I pulled myself from the pond, and immediately got in touch with the folks who keep track of such things.

Seems there are three problems with my claim to the title "World's Fastest Man."

1.) There were no witnesses. I have many times attempted to work some form of truce out with the yellowjacket swarm, to see if they would verify my story, but to no avail.

2.) There was no official time or distance. The distance, well, I've measured that off using something I like to call "The Metric System." It measures precisely 100 meters. On the dot. I figure this seeming coincidence, of my start and finish points being so precise, is indication that God wanted me to break the World Record that day.

I am most insulted at the implication that my timing is shoddy. As I go through my day, I keep a constant track of time. I count the seconds, using a sophisticated and complicated method, mostly involving the practice of counting "One Mississippi, Two Mississippi..." The time it took me to get from where I'd run to from where I'd run took me precisely 9.23 Mississippis.

3.) Lastly, the folks at the World Record Bureau seem to think that the times Justin Gatlin, and others who've laid claim to the title "World's Fastest Man," ran "unaided by outside forces." Seems that even if they were to consider my time, they would have to disqualify me because I had "aid in the form of bees."

I tried to correct them, saying that they were "yellowjackets, not bees."

But apparently it's all the same, to them. (It's not...a bee can sting you just once...yellowjackets can sting, and sting, and sting some more).

My request that at the next such race, and for every race after that, all competitors run using my conditions. I say that just prior to firing the starter's pistol, a responsible individual release a swarm of angry yellowjackets. Or, failing that, let all runners start the race by running a lawnmower over a bunch of yellowjackets' nests.

I think it's fair, and I think I'm being magnanimous here, because those guys who run these races are already in great shape. I'm shaped like a lazy amoeba. So, I bet with the proper motivation (which is how I choose to think of the yellowjackets), we'd have an 8 second 100 meter dash.

But they don't let me decide these things.

Thursday, May 11, 2006

Reset the Clock

Reset the Clock...

The gastrointestinal confusion continues....

Used to have a streak that lasted years. This last streak lasted four months, 15 days.

But we need to reset the Vomit Clock. I'm currently on about 20 minutes into the new countdown.

I won't be drinking any more orange juice any time soon.

I took an oil-based vitamin on an empty stomach. I hope to Jeebus that's what set me off.

Problem is, it's never done it to me before. And there's another stomach virus that's been floating around work.

Had a bad one the day after Christmas, in which I threw up more in a 24 hour period than I had in the previous 9 years. If I could choose a way to spend my day off, hunkered down near the toilet is not the way I'd like to spend it....

A thought from 1:21 in the AM

A thought from 1:21 in the AM

I just burped, and tasted hot dogs.

Problem is, I haven't had a hot dog since the last time I went to a Chattanooga Lookouts game.

Five days ago.

Wednesday, May 10, 2006

One of Life's Little Moments....

One of Life's Little Moments....

Wandered down to see the movie United 93 yesterday.

I'm not going to do a post, I don't think. Partly because others can say what needs to be said more eloquently. But mostly because I don't know how to describe it. Others have run into similar problems. Don't want to say "good movie," necessarily. I think it'll have to suffice for me to say "well-made movie."

I will say that I was surprised by my own small reactions to the show. I realized that I flinched when the second plane hit the second tower. How I couldn't seem to get comfortable, and not because the seat, but because what I'm trying to watch is rough to process. Just couldn't find a comfortable position to be in.

I was also surprised (like Mike) to see Sledge Hammer as a passenger on the plane...and also Fay from Wings....

What really surprised me?

During the movie, though, there's a quiet moment. It's as the passengers on United 93 begin talking to each other after being forced to the back of the plane. It comes right after a loud series of moments....chaos at an air traffic control center, I believe. But there's a quiet section of the movie...not quiet, maybe, but less loud, and certainly quiet enough in the theater to hear what happened with one of the patrons.

In the middle of this quiet moment, where we see the passengers beginning to plot amongst themselves...somebody about five or six rows behind me farts.

And not just one of these little superficial splorts. A big, loud and impressive banger. This one came from deep within. Remember, I heard it from five or six rows away, and it had to have been muted by the buttcheeks and seat cushioning. It lasted a good second.

I'm sitting there, in awe of the fact that in the middle of this movie chronicling probably the single greatest horror of this generation, somebody's deciding to let loose. I'm not even irritated. I'm not happy. I'm not anything, emotionally. I'm still trying to wrap my mind around the thing.

And then, from right around the same area, I hear that metallic "Fwap, Fwap" sound of a theater seat rebounding into the upright position, as the person weighing it down has just left.

And then I see a body trot down the stairs to my left, and exit the theater at a jog.

Again, I watch this with a mild sort of amusement.

I even chuckle to myself, a bit, as I think I've pieced together what's happened. I wait about 5 minutes, to see the guy return, before finally confirming my suspicions.

Here's my theory:

We've all had that moment. We're gassy. So gassy it hurts. Don't know. Maybe we've eaten broccoli, or the chimichanga we had last night. Maybe we're lactose intolerant, but just love ice cream. So we're gassy. And we think that if we're in a private enough area, and if we just vent off a little of that gas, we'll feel better.

That's what I'm thinking this guy was trying to do. I'm thinking he was just trying to release a little pressure. Maybe he was thinking it would even come out silently--a satisfying rush of wind. But there was so much pressure there, that the valve just wouldn't shut closed in time. There's just so much pressure in there, so much gas, that a lot got out.

Add to that, the fact that it's a warm day, and the movie's a tense one. You've been sweating down there, so everything's stuck together near the offramp to the Hershey Highway. So, when stuff gets released, it announces itself as it bursts forth the world.

There is another possibility. That it couldn't have been helped. Possibly, the guy was being utterly and completely respectful, and was perfectly willing to hold it until the end of the movie, but was like me, and found himself fidgeting not because the seat was uncomfortable, but because he found himself uncomfortable with, well, maybe himself and what he was watching.

And in a fidget, something horrible slipped out.

But soon after (or maybe during), he figured out that what he'd just let wasn't your average, run-of-the-mill house mouse fart.

It was the pre-cursor fart. The foreshock fart. The John the Baptist fart. The fart that is but an omen of things to come. In a word, the fart that comes right before a dump.

And judging by the fellow's reaction, I'm thinking what was to come after that fart may have been completely atrocious. Perhaps it was the dreaded dump that will change how people think of you.

We've all had them. Hell, I had one at Baseball's Hall of Fame last October.

Anyway. Because all things scatalogical amuse me, it made me smile, even in the midsts of this powerful movie, we get reminded that sometimes that we are all human, and that we all have moments like that.

Me, I was once the president of my church Youth group, and in the midst of giving a sermon on "Youth Sunday," I was hit by a gas attack so bad that it made me laugh in the middle of whatever it was I was trying to say.

I didn't fart. Not in the pulpit. But in the recessional, or whatever you want to call it as the Youth group and I left the sanctuary that day, I let a silent string of farts that led from altar to the rear exit.

To this day, I still get a more than unhealthy chuckle at the idea of a preacher farting in the middle of a sermon.

But, like I said. It's one of those unifying things. We all fart.

Everybody farts. I'll bet my old preacher, a very nice man named Ogle, farted in the pulpit. I'd lay money down.

Everybody farts. Nelson Mandela. Mother Teresa. Martin Luther King, Jr. Franklin Roosevelt. Abe Lincoln. John Adams.

Sam Adams! You know Sam Adams farted! He brewed beer, for heaven's sake! There's are few farts more satisfying or higher in entertainment value than a good old beer fart.

Everybody farts. George Washington. Betsy Ross. Ghandi.

Jesus farted! How could he he not, eating all those fresh fruits and vegetables? I mean, sure, it may have smelled like roses, or manna from heaven. But Jesus Did Fart.

Everybody. I fart. You fart. The President farts. Republicans. Democrats. Liberals. Conservatives. Libertarians. Fascists. Commies. Nazis. Commie-Nazis.

Priests. Teachers. Businessmen. The air traffic controllers. The terrorists.

I damn bet ya that the people on that United 93 flight farted. During the whole ordeal. If they're like me, and their nerves hit them wrong....

Still, they overcame it. Stopped the terrorists.

Anyway. Ever write something and it just wanders away from you? This is a prime example.

I think I needed a catharsis of sorts during the movie. It's rough. Grueling. Grinding. It's well made, and it sucks you in. Maybe I needed that fart to remind me "hey! just a movie, pal..."

Dear Dusty Baker,

Dear Dusty Baker,

Dude. How about resigning, please? That, or learn how to shake up a lineup. You're what? 1-10 since the 29th? You've been outscored 68-13 in that time? You're losing every game by an average score of 6-1. Tonight's game was pretty much indicative then, wasn't it?

Yet you keep running the same lineups out there. Which isn't the problem I guess. Even when they change, your lineups go out with the same bullshit aggressive mentality. Wear a pitcher out, how about it? Walk a couple of times.

You suck, sir. I believe with every fiber of my being that any success you've had as a manager is 3 parts luck to every 1 part actual baseball knowledge and skill....

You are to baseball strategy what the guy who played Urkel is to baseball strategy.

Please leave.



Tuesday, May 09, 2006

God Bless Juan Pierre

God Bless Juan Pierre

You know, 714 is coming for Barry Bonds. Some day. Sooner rather than later, I think, given the state of the Cubs pitching staff for this series....

Still. God Bless Juan Pierre for keeping it from happening in the fifth inning of tonight's game. A beautiful over-the-wall catch in center. I don't think I've ever been so happy to see somebody robbed of a home run.

And everybody in San Francisco knew it was gone.

Hell, I figured it was gone. My heart sank.

Beautiful catch.

Damn. I haven't enjoyed a single catch more in a long time....

And to hear him booed when he came to bat in the top of the sixth...that's great....

This is an aside, but if there's one thing I detest about our culture, it's how homogenized everything's become, how we all dress the same, watch the same shit on teevee, have the same stores around the same malls in the same parts of every city in America....

But I think it's why I like sports like I do...it still maintains a degree of regional differentiatiion.

So, like the various accents we speak with, I congratulate the fans of San Francisco. The rest of the (sane) world hates the living, breathing shit out of Barry Bonds.....while San Francisco (and San Francisco almost alone) loves the man.....

Monday, May 08, 2006

That Soccer Commercial....

That Soccer Commercial...

Hola! And Welcome to Ocho de Mayo!

You know that soccer commercial that's been running on ESPN, the one that I think's advertising the World Cup? The one that's playing "Take Me Out To The Ballgame" in the background?

That commercial really pisses me off.

Guys, this is America. And in America, we have enough money to afford equipment. Even the poor people can scrounge a bat and glove from the Goodwill, if need be.

In America, we don't have to play low-rent, mindless, cheapass games like soccer.

Have some pride, will ya?

Do you know why soccer is so popular worldwide? Because it's cheap. Costs nothing, almost. The equipment? A Ball. And if you don't have a ball, you can substitute a human head. And how civilized is that? Soccer is for animals.

And I'm sorry as hell that the rest of the world is so bored, yet so full of energy that they have nothing better to do than run at full speed for an hour and a half chasing a ball around a field. Maybe they should get jobs! We're outsourcing here in the USofA! How about channeling that energy into fixing my computer or answering questions about my credit?

Soccer's a sport for the ignorant. You run and run and run and run, and then you run some more. You finally get the ball. What's the rule in soccer? You can't touch the balls with your hands. Must have been invented by the clergy.

It's a kids' game. It's got simple rules, as we've said, and you can learn them in right about 7 seconds. Baseball? Ever gone to a ballgame, had an umpire call a balk, and have half the stadium wondering what the fuck just happened? Mark my words, a soccer player, let alone its fans, would have his brain explode trying to wrap his mind around the complexities of the balk!

And honestly, while we're on the subject, what kind of sport is it when the fans are called "hooligans" and are the most interesting part of the game?

Seriously. Leave soccer to the third world countries and the kids who throw like girls.

If Allan H. "Bud" Selig, the car salesman ostensibly in charge of our game, was any kind of commissioner, he'd call for an all-out war against this soccer menace, for stealing our song. Bring the big guns. Big Papi. the Big Unit. Hell, I think Clemens would show up. Show a little solidarity. Destroy that bullshit sport. Rip it limb from limb. Burn it to the ground, and spread salt over the ashes.

But then, Bud Selig's never really been any kind of commissioner.

I hate that commercial and that bullshit game.

And also cauliflower. I don't know what the correlation is, but I'm sure there is one.

Sunday, May 07, 2006

Sunday Morning Re-Run

Sunday Morning Re-Run

I wrote this a couple of years ago when The Day After Tomorrow was coming out. It applies now because the remake of the Poseiden Adventure is coming out before long. Just substitute any reference to killer weather or boats floating in Manhattan with "boat flipping over because of a wave" and it pretty much applies.

Don't need story. Just need disaster.

Remember my statement of geek cred a while back? Well, in it, I said I'm all over movies where some weather, or monsters, or asteroids or something destroys stuff here on Earth.

Pursuant to that statement,

The Day After Tomorrow comes out Friday. I don't care how many bad reviews I see (and boy, there've already been a bunch of them), I'm going to see The Day After Tomorrow, and I'm going to see it, well, the day after tomorrow.

I've said it before. If you need me to go see your movie, there are two shots you need to put in your trailer: 1.) Some famous landmark getting swept away, smashed by a comet or being climbed by a giant monster, and 2.) A bunch of people running away from it.

I don't care if The Day After Tomorrow is the worst movie of the week, or the year, or ever....I'm going to be there with bells on. Because I'm not going for stories or acting or anything like that. I'm going to watch the bad weather movie.

Concievably, they could make a two hour flick that doesn't contain any particular plotline other than a tornado, or a tidal wave, or some trampling large beast tearing things down. Two hours. Nothing but that. And I'd probably see it. Twice.

I'm the guy completely transfixed by the weather channel if one of those tornado shows is on. You know, the ones where Fred and Merline talk about how "the tornaduh sount lack a train...."

So I'm an easy mark. I'm to blame for this particular trend, if you're annoyed by it.

Wanna fight about it?

Now this trend of remaking everything, which was tiresome a decade ago, that's a whole different can of beans.

Still, boat flipping and people falling from floor to ceiling trumps my boredom with remaking everything.....

Newer Annoyances...

Newer Annoyances...

Never thought about it, but I never used to have the tiny annoyance of having to plug in my phone and charge it up. It's such a small thing, and I think it's more of an annoyance that I forget to do it.

Never used to have to do that.


I've lost track of the math already, but I'm thinking they've been outscored 48-6 in their last 7 games. Could be 8 games. I'd have to look, and I'm much too lazy for that. But the Cubs lost again last night. They aren't getting outscored 9-0, but they might as well be...the Cubs still aren't driving runs home....they lost 2-1 last night. Wasn't pleased with what I saw. They'd get a runner into scoring position, but come up the next at bat too aggressive, swing at the first pitch and fly out to short left, making it impossible for the runner to advance.

It's stupid baseball, and it's a Dusty Baker trademark. Either he's teaching them to be aggressive, or he's not reining them in when they play stupid. Either way, he's failing as a manager.

We should fire him now.


I wanted The Sinister Minister to win the Kentucky Derby. It annoys me that a non-wrasslin' reference won the horserace.

It also annoys me that there is no horse named Big Stupid Tommy.

You horsetrainer readers get the hell on that.


The spacebar sticks on my computer. You have to punch it extra hard when you want to make a space between words.


Actually, they should have fired Dusty Baker two years ago.

Late To This Party

Late to This Party

You know, I know I'm not telling a lot of you anything you don't know already.

But Battlestar Galactica is The Shit.

It's one of those things I avoided for the longest time. I tend to do that nowadays. When people start recommending something, a lot of people, I'll tend to shy away. Because I get my hopes up. I get them up to an unreachable point. And when I finally do watch (or read, or listen to) what this throng of folks has been raving about, I can't help but be disappointed.

There are exceptions. The Usual Suspects was like that. Everybody told me how AWESOME this movie was, but I waited a long time before watching it. It was probably five or six years old before I saw The Usual Suspects. I had to admit. Yeah, Usual Suspects is a fucking great movie.

Amelie was another. It just didn't seem like my cup of tea. But everybody recommended it. From Kevin Smith to my roommate to the clerk at Videoculture who told me to rent it when I couldn't find anything else to watch. I watched it, and thought it was simply a wonderful movie.

With a book, The Da Vinci Code might be an example...I, like Sheila says in this post, enjoyed the book immensely in spite of myself and Brown's irritating writing style...

Music? A recent example, and though I didn't wait long, I had three or four people tell me how much they enjoyed Bruce Springsteen's We Shall Overcome/The Seeger Sessions. I just kinda blew it off, thinking it couldn't be so great. Then I heard "Pay Me My Money Down" on XM Friday, and had to go buy the CD after work yesterday. I love that album.

But anyway, I'm wandering here.

There were lots of reasons I didn't watch Battlestar Galactica. For one, work lately has made it so that watching episodic teevee isn't something you can count on. I really dig Lost, but haven't watched any of this season because I can't count on being home, and my memory's shitty enough that I can't think to record (and there's nothing so fancy as TiVo at Casa de BSTommy). I'll wait for the DVD.

What's more, I like Scrubs, My Name is Earl and The Office. A sitcom is a little easier to pick up on in the middle, so I watch those when I can.

But I couldn't count on being able to watch Galactica, so I didn't even start with it.

Add to that I haven't really found myself digging anything really SF off of the teevee for quite some time...probably since Star Trek Deep Space Nine went off the air...a lot of what's been recommended comes off cheap, or has flashes of brilliance that get obscured by truckloads of crap.

Or they get lured into the trap of sacrificing story for effects.

Or they make it so that you can't identify at all with anybody...

But thanks to the beauty of DVD, and thanks to the nice folks at Netflix, who let you check out just about anything for that one low price...

Folks, Battlestar Galactica is f'ing awesome.

After watching the mini-series from Netflix, I just went and bought the first season. Identified immediately that this is something I can watch, and watch again and probably pull something completely different away from it.

I'm working my way through it slowly. Recognizing that if I wanted to, I could sit and blow through a season in a day, I'm taking it slow.

I'll try to write more on what I think about the show. I love that it's not glorifying anybody here. Nobody's a hero by character design. You have people who sacrifice and do great things, but who have (sometimes deep) character flaws.

I love that it doesn't dwell on its SF aspects, letting the characters tell the story.

I love the bit when Dr. Baltar thinks his mental torment of #6 is invisible to everybody else at one point, when she's arrived to attempt to implicate Baltar. It could have been hammed up so much, but it's a wonderful moment.
Lots of great stuff. Thank Jeebus for DVD.

Friday, May 05, 2006

A Post from 1:09 in the morning

A Post from 1:09 in the morning

So, I close the store tonight, and I'm thinking to myself "Oh Boy! The Cubs are playing the Diamondbacks in Phoenix...I'll probably get to listen to the last inning or two on XM when I finish work...."

I thought that. Just like that. I said "Oh Boy" in my interior monologue, and I thought with the periods of ellipsis and everything. Because I'm all literary, and shit.

So, I get out in the eighth, and the Cubs are down by five, with the D-Backs about to score a sixth run. I turned the station before it could happen, in the hopes that it was all a figment of my imagination.

This is neither here nor there, but I really dig X-Country, channel 12 on the XM dial. Lots of Delbert McClinton, lots of Robert Earl Keen.....

Well, while I was listening to X-Country, the dumb bastards lost again tonight. 6-0.

Now, I'm no whiz kid. I don't know all 24 letters of the alphabet, and I definitely couldn't get them in order...but by my math, that puts the Cubs outscored over their last 6 games by a sum of 45-5.

Now, to my mind, that's a football score. Not of a great game...something like what you'd see next fall during the the University of Alabama vs. the Northwest Dalton, Georgia, College for Grade School Teachers and Hairdressers game.

My point is, that's definitely not what you want to see for your baseball team.

(You'll excuse me for a minute, whilst I eat grapes....I just remembered that I bought grapes, and had the "Holy Shit! I have grapes!" moment. You've all been there. Bear with me....)

I'm not going to get off on a rant here. It's too late, and I've got a couple New Knoxville I.P.A.'s in me, and as you can see, my attention's wandering like a toddler with ADD and Restless Leg Syndrome...

I'll just say that it's six bad games, and that every team has six bad games. The trick is to not let it turn into a streak where you lose the month of May by a combined score of 345-17.

I don't know what the switch is. Or even if there is one. But the Cubs seem to throw it every year, at some point. Everybody goes into a slump. And it can't coincide with Derrek Lee being out, because they played well enough for a while without him. But at some point (and to me, that 16-2 drubbing Saturday's got something to do with it), the switch got flipped, and somehow the lineup fell apart.

Stupid Cubs.

I ain't got answers.

Hell, at this time of the night, I'm not willing to bet if there's a question.

I just know that there are too many good teams in the N.L. Central to slump like this for long. Too many teams to try to catch. I mean, it's not just houston and St. Looey. Cincinnati's playing lights out, and Milwaukee will play with anybody.

Boy, it's times like this that I miss the Sloth.

Thursday, May 04, 2006

Kid pictures.

Kid Pictures

Here are a few pictures of Steven's baby, Connor Lawrence David "Keebler" West....

That boy looks old enough to mow the yard, if'n you asked me.

Wednesday, May 03, 2006

Thoughts from the Ass End of the Night

Thoughts from the Ass End of the Night

Just a couple of random thoughts, before I start getting ready to work.

Haven't had an insomnia post in a while. Haven't had a good bout of no sleep in a while.

Woke up before the alarm this morning. About an hour. Wanted to go back to sleep. Tried, but couldn't. I blame the economy.

When I woke, I was having a dream where I was calling a friend of mine, but whenever I dialed her number, I kept getting the U.S. Coast Guard. Apparently, the Coast Guard doesn't like it when you call their number, and ask for Stephanie.

They threatened me for calling over and over, but I remember saying that I wasn't so worried about them, owing to that I live 500 miles inland.

I also remember a fragment of a dream, where I was dubious when trying to catch snakes with rolled up balls of tape.


What's this crap where I actually get the opportunity to watch the Cubs three times in the last four days, and those three games they lose by combined scores those days of 33-2?

Maybe it's Jeebus's way of telling me to get off my ass and mow the yard.

I've long suspected that if the Cubs are ever going to win it all, I'm not going to be able to watch. They have this neverending capacity to lose when I'm watching. I've ended winning streaks. But this mess where they not only lose, but get the everliving shit kicked out of them, it's kind of a new one on me. I can tell you that already it's a bit tiresome.

A winning record is some comfort, but it's looking like the Central's going to be a dogfight all season. Even as hot as they are, I don't expect Cincinnati to be in the mix all season, but Houston, Milwaukee and St Louis have the chops for the long haul.

Don't know about the Cubbies. It scares me that the offense is thrown into such disarray with the loss of one component, even if it is a monster like D-Lee. And it's not even the loss of Lee that's hurting them...it's like they forgot the successes of small ball and run manufacture from the first three weeks.

It could just be one of those typical Cubbie slumps, where it's not just a guy, but everybody in the 1-8 hole who decide to take a dump on the field for a week.

I just wish it wouldn't coincide with the times when the pitching staff decides to show its young age.