Hurry, Star Force! 3/31

If I had to pick one cartoon to best say something about me as a kid, it would have to be Star Blazers. Sure it looks a bit crude by today’s standards, but in 1980 this was the very pinnacle of cool for me. There were three shows that constituted a triumverate of awesome for me (Speed Racer, Star Blazers, Robotech) and this show was at the top of the pyramid.

I won’t burden you with all the details of the plot (this time) except to say it was all about the human race using alien technology to resurrect the Yamato as a space ship in order to save themselves from the Gamillon Empire. The idea is that the Earth has a year to live before radiation from the Gamillion planet bombs reaches the last surviving humans hiding below the surface. The Yamato (called Argo in the American version) can make the journey to a far away friendly alien to retrieve the Cosmo DNA to revitalize the planet and stop the radiation.

It’s a compelling plot, to be sure, and each episode ended with a reminder of how many days remained before Earth perished. There were aliens (who eventually and inexplicably became blue-skinned) and space ships, guns and gadgets. But even the mighty Wave Motion Gun didn’t make the show what it was, the characters did.

The show gave us stories of courage, sure, but also loss. People could die. In fact in the very first episode you witness the slaughter of an Earth fleet by the Gamillons. Among those lost was the older brother of the main character (Derek Wildstar). The one surviving ship was commanded by the Argo’s captain, Captain Avatar. Throughout most of the show the two men struggle with the guilt and anger of the event, something you won’t find on the Snorks.

The villains were not bumbling, moustache twisting clichés either. Their leader was what the Japanese considered an “honorable foe” in that his reasons for attacking Earth are not out of the desire for conquest or glory, only that his world is dying and he wants a new one for his people. While not a nice guy, he fights with honor and I think is a much more compelling villain because of it.

He also took baths with a couple blue women and a bottle of wine while he issued orders. Even at 6 years old I knew he was a pimp.

I like to think that it is because of this show that I enjoy deep characters and plots that offer more than fluff. Even now when I watch it I am moved by the troubles and triumphs of Wildstar, Venture, Nova, Sandor and the rest.

Today’s episode marks the first use of the Wave Motion Gun in the series. Note the hackneyed way the American studio reused some clips to make it appear that the Gamillons evacuated. Clearly a staion crew can all fit into a single interceptor like the one Wildstar tangled with earlier, right? Whatever, we all know they really got fried. Also watch for Avatar’s speech about power and responsibility, twenty years before Spider-Man.

Intro


Part 1


Part 2

11:15am | 3/30

Confounded by the slurps and sucks from Jill, as I am daily, I massage my eyes with my fingers. Within my little squared enclosure at the Office, I can hear the muffled practices of my fellows; their typing, their inane conversations, their hushed phone calls to loved ones on company time. None of this has ever served to derail my concentration in the past. Such is my resolve to my task that I am rarely taken far from the course.

Save for one, daily exception.

Jill. Every day – every Monday, Tuesday, Wednesday, Thursday, and Friday – every day at precisely 11:15am she drinks from her pink water bottle with a sound that can only be attributed to the worst kind of mental knife twisting imaginable. It is no mere nails on a chalkboard, this fantastically awful slurp; it is a sickening uptake of her liquid for a full two minutes and twenty seconds. Every day.

Though she sits across from my enclosure, I keep my back to her. I refuse to record her visage with my eyes and forever cement the sound into an image. I have broken pencils with a fierce grip, left sets of grooves from raked fingers on my desk. I have even cracked a tooth from a particularly clenched jaw one winter morning.

Today will be different. Today is the seven hundredth and ninety-ninth day of my periodic hell and I will not allow there to be an eight-hundredth. No, today I have resolved to take the bottle and smash it outside on the city pavement. Today my agony will be known to Jill, even if she is not aware of it as she is not aware of my name!


Ah, 11:14am! The time is near; I rise from my embattled desk and take a moment to gird myself for the assault. My other neighbors are, of course, clueless to my pain and carry on with their unimportant lives. I turn to face my thirsty foe.

Her back is also to my cubicle, a good thing for she will not be alerted to my advance! I take my three steps to cross the divide with a conviction that was surely felt by the greatest of warriors when they stepped into the fray. I am confidant. My mission will succeed and my days hereafter will be unshackled from the sucks of her sloppy mouth.

Jill was rather ordinary to look at. I assume the front of her would match the tame anterior. I see her pink water bottle in her left hand; she is bringing the lidless container to her face, hidden behind her mundane hair. I shall spin her chair and take the bottle! The surprise of my action will render her defenseless.

I enact my perfect plan, I spin her chair!

She does not shriek. She does not waver. From behind her layers of face swept hair I see her nose, proud like a mountain upon a plain of split ends. From below her simple nose a tube emerges, slick and fleshy. Coiled like a butterfly tongue, it unfurls itself into the pink, lidless bottle and begins its daily routine of slurping and sucking.

My head is draining. The peripherals of my vision narrow to focus solely upon her red and green proboscis.

“You should get back to work,” she says, though her extended organ does not falter from its liquid uptake.

If god be for them, then who is for us?

I don’t have much to talk about today. I was up all night thanks to this clip.



Funny, I know. Maraka musing over the concept of free will however had me staring at my ceiling all night.

As it turns out, apes have been found to have what we might call empathy towards other apes. An ape won’t needlessly harm another one in his group to get some food or kill a disabled ape. It won’t help the species or family line to propagate if they kill each other, after all.

I think that many of our “values” are simply survival techniques. If we ate our young, there wouldn’t be too many of us after a while since we can only really have one baby per female a year. So for humans, eating babies is bad. Killing is bad, that makes less of us, but if they have food when we don’t then it’s ok. So don’t murder your mailman, but if a nation has oil I hope they have a lot of bunkers to survive the bombs.

I’m not saying we should eat babies and kill postal workers, but that I understand that. I even understand war, to a degree. What doesn’t fit too well into all of that is war over principle. My god versus your god, Sunday, Sunday, Sunday!

I think war based on a belief like religion is ridiculous. It’s ugly. It’s not killing your neighbor because they won’t share the food and your people starve, it’s killing your neighbor because he wears a funny hat or won’t eat chocolate or something.

Think of it this way, if god made everyone, surely he did not make some of us with the sole purpose to torment the rest of us. It would not make sense that a being that knows everything would predestine millions to hell so that ONE cult can triumph over another. Would it?

I mean, does that mean that your enemy in a holy war, no matter how he lived his life, is doomed to hell for opposing your belief? Didn’t god make him? Isn’t he loved too? Can god make human souls knowing that they will burn in hell for all eternity?

No, war based on belief is wrong; so says my primate style brain. It’s a war between Santa and the Easter Bunny.

Otherwise, if it is true and god is on their side and not ours, then we were created to be damned to hell by him from day one.

God sounds like an asshole.

Or maybe people are morons if they think that an omnipotent, loving being cares which way they face when they pray or if they ate meat on Friday.

Why can’t people be good to each other and take credit for it instead of attribute it to an old man in the clouds? Following that, why can’t we take responsibility for our asinine holy wars without blaming said old man?

Free will or not, we need to start thinking about how we behave toward one another.

Greetings, Starfighter. You have been recruited by the Star League... 3/28

Here’s something that kept me up all night last night: R-Type Final. I know, why the hell is he going to waste my morning with video games? Well before you go ahead and click over to The Onion or Google ‘college cheerleaders’ on Moderate Safe, just read on a little bit more.

R-Type Final was, indeed, final. The team was disbanded after its completion and the series is officially over. Done. Forever. Blessed with the knowledge that there would be no sequels, the team from Irem made an amazing game slash tribute to their liscence; a proper good-bye for the series and gave it to the world. This game is full of things that get me excited and inspired.

101. Look at that number for a moment. Think of how many things 101 is. 101 Ferraris, 101 Eddie Griffins to crash them, 101 shoes, 101 e-mails, 101 is a lot of things. R-Type has 101 SHIPS for you to choose from before you play through it.

Yes. 101. Sure, you start out with one ship on your roster, but after a play through or two they will begin to unlock pretty quickly. Well, most will. As you play you will notice that some blocks in the ship museum won’t fill up. Think of it as the game is the dealer on the corner. He gives you the first batch for free; you have to pay for the rest.

The last 50 or so ships take effort. You have to beat stages under a certain time, a certain way, or with a certain ship in a certain level using a certain weapon. Other than a vague hint from the empty dedication plaque in your museum, you are left to your own devices to unlock it.



This isn’t just a shooter; it’s a GORGEOUS shooter with a zillion options. Each ship, aside from color options, can be set up with a varying number of weaponry. Each ship uses variations of a main weapon. Each ship is SLIGHTLY different from the others. Think about that while I remind you that there are 101 of them.

I know, you think that the repeated play through would get tedious, and in most cases you would be right, except that R-Type Final not only looks so great, but some levels change depending on what you did the LAST time through. One stage in particular undergoes drastic changes in water level and temperature, so much so that it changes the way you have to play your way through almost every time.


The bosses range from easy to insane but they are all amazing to see. My personal favorite is the Battleship level where, long before Shadow of the Colossus, the level IS the boss. Flying around a massive ship, taking apart its defenses and causing considerable collateral damage to the city it’s flying over, you feel powerful.

Back to the ships, though; this game activates that part of me that loves machines. Each ship has a registry and a short history (they are also from a couple decades worth of shooter games for a final adieu) and a design that is interesting and somehow plausible.

I can spend hours thinking about their configurations, their quirks, and their weaponry. Some ships ‘transform’ when you speed up or slow down, some have powerful particle rifles or steady laser beams. Each one can find a FORCE, a little device that you can attach to the front or the back of your ship (on the fly, I might add) to increase your weapon power and block most shots. Almost all ships have a FORCE unique to its model type or family tree.

I want to sit down and make up things like this. A world of machines with numbers and functions, people to polish and oil them, parts, devices, manufacturers, paint schemes; people to fly them and crash them. This game reminds me how a person can invent anything they want and expose the public to it through MANY types of media. It thrills me that there are people getting paid to imagine these rich, detailed worlds.

It reminds me that we can share anything we want these days and SEE it realized. It also reminds me that it’s almost noon and I need to get back to work…

Free your mind 3/27

Here’s a little dirty secret of mine: I liked the Matrix sequels. Go ahead, harrumph for a bit. I understand.

Finished? Still here?

Ok, so here I go…

I think many people were disappointed with the sequels because they didn’t really pause for easy answers or seemed to borrow too much from other material.

I think it was just Keanu. I’ll admit he kind of takes away from the movies somehow after the first one. Perhaps it was the time between the first movie and the second movie that did it, but somehow he felt like a guy playing Keanu as Neo. A sort of meta-caricature of Keanu being Neo in a Matrix movie spoof that isn’t very good. Imagine if Mad TV spoofed a Saturday Night Live skit about the Matrix and used Keanu to spoof himself in the spoof of the spoof.

Woah.

Since we can agree that Ted Logan reared his ugly head and perhaps spoiled The One for us all, I’ll move on. I don’t think it was Keanu’s fault, really, but that’s a blurb for another day. (Hopefully that day won’t come soon).

Here’s my theory and I hope someday you have the time to try this: The Matrix is meant to be viewed as a six hour film.



I think the whole is greater that its parts and is much more than a kung-fu film with a green filter on the lens. Aside from the heavy Hindu and Buddhist overtones there were smaller connections from film to film. I think my favorite prediction made by a character in the first film was from Agent Smith who claimed that Neo’s death by his hands was inevitable. Sure enough, Smith killed him.

That the Architect and the Oracle were opposites in terms of how they did things, order and chaos, yin and yang, was not lost on me. Through 5 iterations of the Matrix they worked against each other - one trying to balance, the other to unbalance – until the 6th version of The One appeared and made a choice they did not see, he chose love over humanity. Was that their goal all along; to move machines and man back into the same room together? Or was that only the dream of the Oracle?


Think about this, Neo is told from day one what he will and must do. He even meets a machine in the train station that tells him about karma (though many say it’s closer to dharma but so what) and he does not fear for himself or his future because he is doing what he was meant to do. By the way, as a recycling machine, does anyone else think it was he who carried Neo away at the end? Neo knows what he has to do and in the end, despite fighting against it (rescuing Trinity in part 2) he must face his destiny anyway by the end of part 3.

There are deep things happening here. Man and machine, even after a great war, are still dependant on one another. Even the Machine God (Deus Ex Machina – that’s really its name) can’t beat Smith without using Neo as some kind of connector to him. There are cycles and destinies in the Matrix that are almost all traveled and fulfilled.

Just like the Architect and Oracle, Neo has a counterpart in Smith. It’s hinted at that once the 5 previous “Ones” chose to reset the system and spare humanity from extinction, Smith is reset as well. However since this sixth Neo chose to save one instead of many, the Smith grew out of the Machines control. Since the Architect always calculated that he would choose humanity over himself (Neo that is) I guess he didn’t whip out his calculator to see what would happen with Neo’s negative, the Smith program. Perhaps he couldn’t account for the Oracle and her “chaos” but whatever the case, Neo balanced the equation for him; the Deus ex Machina hit the total key and just like that, a new world is born. Chaos and Control, their strugle creates new life. Kandinsky would be thrilled...

Consider too that while the movies focus on eastern philosophies the western myths were covered as well. Try renting The Animatrix and watch the Second Renaissance segments (there are two). The rise of the Machines over man has some blatant Revelations imagery and symbolism. As in that whacky book you see a blackened sky, huge beasts, a new Earth, the end of man and their “rapture” to the Matrix; they even threw in a trumpeter for good measure. The Merovingian seems to cover the role ofa Judeo-Christian Satan, complete with his own Persephone and focus on free will (lack thereof) and earthly pleasures. He even prefers the Matrix to the Machine City 01 as he likely prefers to rule in Club Hel than to serve in - well you understand if you remember your Milton.

Look, there are a gazillion things to go over in terms of the themes in the movies, but I just want to reiterate my point one more time. The movies are better as a complete trilogy than as individuals. There are things in them that go beyond chases on a freeway and form a much more complex tale than it lets on. If I can BS my way this far down a page imagine what a real mind can do with the elements present in the 3 movies.

Just try not to focus on Keanu and you’ll be fine.

Please! Wait, am friend! Please! 3/26

Here’s one of my all time favorite monsters, the Skeksis. If you never saw Jim Henson’s Dark Crystal, you owe it to yourself to go rent it. In an age of CGI and digital replacement, the puppetry and huge, detailed sets just might blow you away.

One half of a being that was split in two when the Crystal cracked, the Skeksis rule the planet Thra from the Crystal Castle. Comprised of equal parts hate and greed, these creatures resembled buzzards in a way that made my young spine shiver.

There were 10 or so at the start of the film, each one named after his/her/its job in the castle. Although they DID have true names they were never uttered in the film, so I’ll let you read the Wiki article if you want to know more.

The General was the leader of the Garthim, a giant beetle/tank creature that made me check my closet at night for months for infestations of the black insectoid devils. Others included The Gourmand, The Ritual Master, The Scientist, The Slave Master, and my favorite, The Chamberlain. There were more, but you have things to do, so I’ll move on.

These things gave me bad dreams for weeks. From Chamberlain’s whimper (you have to hear it) to the General summoning his soldiers.

“When awakened, they produce a loud clicking sound….Being more like machines than animals, they mercilessly attack whomever they seek, claws snapping as they close on their prey.”

Man alive that’s good and creepy.

(Look at that set! Who makes movies like this these days?)

The Skeksis were impressed only with power and chose their leader accordingly. It also didn’t hurt to keep the flow of Pod-People open so that the Scientist can “juice” them for their essence. Their essence, you see, keeps the Skeksis from dying.

While most people think of Fozzy Bear when they hear Jim Henson, I must say that he had a flair for the evil stuff too. The Scientist (sometimes called The Doctor) is probably the first muppet ever to have Body Dysmorphic Disorder. Part machine and part buzzard, he will make your skin crawl.

The Skeksis sneered, drooled, growled, laughed, and all the while you forget that there is a man under the costume. Their clothes were opulent yet decayed, their castle covered in a millennium of dirt and grime, their slaves were brainwashed and essence drained creatures. The viewer is treated to a nice, long sequence of the monsters eating a meal with all the sinew cracks, lip smacks, and burps you could ever want. They constantly plot, scheme, double cross. They will eat babies, I’m sure of it.

(An Arrakoa from World of Warcraft. Looks an awful lot like a Skeksis to me. They live in a place called "Skettis.")

These things will make you uncomfortable.

Special effects may have come a long way since the early 80s, but nothing has yet to come close in my estimation to what they accomplished in The Dark Crystal.

Call waiting, what's that? 3/25

Welcome to the world of tomorrow! Watch Bell Telephone demonstrate the dialing card, touch-tone phone, and call waiting. Keep your eyes peeled for the prototype pager; it’s as big as a book. (If for some reason the Google vid doesn't play for you, click here.)



I can’t wait for the future.

Well, maybe I can. I’ve been thinking about telemedicine and the emerging technology of Intelligent Biomedical Clothing. Simply put, your clothes have sensors which tell your “health care provider” how you are doing.

Article.

It sounds kind of neat for sick people. If your temperature or blood pressure falls the medics can be alerted and get to you before you even realize you are about to fall gravely ill. But really, over time do you think it will end with sick people? Wouldn’t athletes begin wearing these? Would schools issue these to your kids so you know how they are at all times?

Would your insurance require these? That scares me.

“Biomedical fashion (rather than clothes) offers a unique opportunity to seamlessly integrate health care into the daily lives of citizens.”

Imagine that your insurance carrier know how much wine you had at dinner, how cold it was when you were outside for hours, or even if you aren’t getting enough exercise? Would your shirt alert you to grab a jacket before you stay outside any longer or else flu medication won’t be covered?

Think about exercise. Would State Farm decide that a person your age and weight should be doing X amount of cardio a week and penalize you at the doctors office on the co pay if you didn’t do enough?

The Discovery Channel ran a show a couple months back and one thing they theorized about things in “2057” is that just about everything will be wireless somehow. In their example your toilet, toothbrush, clothes, just about any major appliance were all integrated into a network. The chilling byproduct of this is that your toilet and toothbrush will let your insurance company know that you were out drinking and your BA is still above the legal limit in the morning. Should you injure yourself now, you won’t be covered or covered as well as when you are sober.

That’s a pretty dire prediction.

I’m all for keeping sick patients alive and on the road to discover while letting them get out of the hospitals through the use of these “Smart Clothes” but I really hope that we never surrender that much of our lives over to the insurance companies. I like keeping people safe, but I detest the idea of a “nanny state” becoming THAT invasive. It’s bad enough that people can’t smoke in bars and other trivial matters nowadays, but imagine if having a cigarette voided your health coverage – instantly.

I know, take the tinfoil hat off, dude. Americans would never let that happen here. It’s too far-fetched that it would ever happen.

I’m just saying that there are plenty of great things to be done with telemedicine these days but we should be mindful of how invasive it becomes. Watch the Bell Telephone movie again. That kind of thing blew people away in the early 60s and we take all of it for granted (even think some of it as obsolete). Imagine what we will have in 40 years…

Laugh with me! Laugh with me! 3/24

Here’s an episode of Freakazoid! for you. While maybe not a traditional Saturday morning cartoon, it was certainly one of my favorites. The show was somehow smart and stupid all at once in a way that made you laugh. It also featured many fine guest stars like Ed Asner, Leonard Maltin, Tim Curry, Norm Abram, and even Ricardo Montalban.

Ricardo. Fucking. Montalban.

I may not know what makes up the cool element (CO2L), but I do know that Ricardo Montalban is an essential molecule in it. Thankfully his Fantasy Island references were kept to a minimum, but the Khan jokes were plentiful. If you don’t like him, well, the door is over there. Please show yourself out.

For the REAL geeks out there (of which I am a proud member) Freakazoid! also included the voice talents of Maurice LaMarche, Tress MacNiel, Frank Welker (aka Megatron – the original), and legend Don Messick (Scooby-Do among zillions of others).

The show also featured many short skits, including my personal favorite, Hunt the Huntsman. Imagine Robin Hood or the Green Arrow but played by Charlton Heston. If there was an emergency you could sound the Horn of Urgency to summon him. It was a shame that rookies liked to blow the horn to make Hunt travel from the forest to the city center only to be told that nothing was happening and he should just go home. Thanks to heroes like him, there wasn’t much evil left to fight.

Hunt usually would respond with a “Darn, darn darn!” in a very Heston way.

I know what you’re thinking; I was in my 20s when this thing aired. So what, it was still funny and came near the end of the Saturday morning era.

The episode is in two parts, YouTube makes you pay to upload clips longer than ten minutes. Craig Ferguson is also in this episode as Freakazoid's mentor stuck with a woeful amount of exposition.



And Part II



Finally today I want to take you back again to the 80’s for M.A.S.K. The toys that the show promoted were pretty neat. Vehicles each had two modes that they could alternate between giving them a “surprise” function. A motorcycle could suddenly become a mini-helicopter or a sleeper cab truck could become a freaking tank with tailpipes for guns. Essentially they were lazy Transformers now that I think about them. Their motto "Illusion is the ultimate weapon" is even a sort of like "More than meets the eye" isn't it?



Oh yeah, they wore masks, too.

I do remember I was always a bit jealous of the kid who had the robot that could turn into a scooter. Lucky bastard. All I had back then was a BMX and it didn’t clean my room for me.

That should do it for this week. Happy weekend!

Cubicle Flair 3/23

Here’s a missile defense system for your desk at work, courtesy of the folks at ThinkGeek.



Pretty neat, don’t you think? I mean, plug it in and you can aim it at anyone that dares enter the sovereign territory of Philville. If they refuse to comply with your demand to vacate your domain, a red button is at your disposal…

This all makes me wonder, though, what is it about some of us (I’m guilty) and our need to have toys at work? Take a moment on your next break and walk around the office and look into the cubicles. No matter who the person is you will find a thing that they carefully selected to say something about themselves somewhere inside their work-box. Go on, I’ll wait.

Back? How is Phil these days? Oh, missile defense system kept you out? That’s okay, I hear he’s not all that pleasant anyway.

The toys aren’t just like hood ornaments; they are much more than that. It’s almost like people have found a way to communicate who they are with them. Toys are a kind of an office shorthand; a method of saying “I like Cylons” without having to actually SAY anything about them.

There are other side benefits, too. Perhaps Phil will one day meander by (Phil never seems to do anything) and spot your Planet Express Ship model and ask, “Do you like space ships?”

Now, without having to say much of anything to Phil, (he takes more days off than anyone else in your department) you know two things about him. He doesn’t watch Futurama and is therefore “not cool” in your estimation and that he assumes that you might put something you don’t like on your desk. Let’s face it, if you didn’t like space ships, having a big green one on your desk would be silly, wouldn’t it? (Phil has to be told two or three times to do things before he does them).

This social “marking” isn’t common to everyone. Many people pin up a “Garfield” comic they like and call it a day. The jerks will post their degrees. Overly social people might not have much in their space at all save a surfing calendar and bunch of business cards (their “people”) for you to look at and wish you had that many numbers in your phone.

Those people don’t need totems to declare their inner-selves to the world at large. Let’s go back to Planet Express Ship. Later on Sherrie walks by to copy something and she also spots your model.

“Wow, did you make that? I love Futurama.”

And a connection is made.

I think office toys are a way to find like minded people, friends even, in a place that we don’t really want to be in. This is especially true for the ex-geeks (again, guilty) who don’t always find first encounters with other people to be easy or comfortable. This doesn’t make them unpleasant people, just shy. Their toys are a way of saying “talk to me, I like robots.”

Some people like a lot of things and their desk looks like a tiny Toys R Us, others just like Futurama. Whatever the case, try and take a look at what people choose to put out there. You don’t have to start a conversation if you see a toy you like, just tell them you like it. Who knows, maybe they are cool people (unlike Phil). In the end, you never know who your next Starbucks Buddy might be…

Armed and fully operational interlocking bricks 3/22

Here is something that makes me think that there is hope for mankind yet. LEGO is by far one of the best toys EVER created by the Danes, hell, by anyone. While their kits have gotten pricey, you can still get your tyke a tub of bricks for a reasonable price. Trust me, though, even if they are a bit steeper in cost than say a Tonka they’re worth it. Your belly-dump Tonka will forever be a belly-dump Tonka. Your LEGO dump truck can be smashed and made into a ballistic missile or a handy laser blaster with a thing in the stock that tells time.

Today I have something special for any Star Wars/engineering/LEGO geeks out there.

Click this.

Yes, you are seeing that right, you can make your own EXECUTOR with LEGO. How badass is that? This guy blows me away; he even has the instructions available in CAD for god’s sake. The model itself is accurate to the smallest detail (well, for LEGO blocks that is) from the superstructure to the engines…it’s almost perfect. It's also as big as you.

There are other folks out there who have built EXECUTOR but all seem to bow down in allegiance to Lasse Deleuran. (Is it just me, or does his name make it seem like he could move to Naboo and fit right in?)

How jealous are you of THAT kid? Way to go, That Kid's Dad! You need an award. No jokes, I mean it, you rock a bit more than most.

I am completely amazed by some of the LEGO builders out there, completely amazed. So much so that I almost want to go out and buy a shit ton of blocks today and go nuts on my living room floor. I am so inspired by this thing that I think it deserves a place in my "Coolest Things Ever" section. There it will stay until called for...

I could go on and on in a geek-driven ramble that might stretch into days and weeks so I’ll end it here. Needless to say you owe it to yourself to take a coffee break and peep this guy’s creation. If not for you, do it for the glory of the Galactic Empire.

Wax on, wax off 3/21

Here’s a guy with a damned good idea. (Vid and link courtesy of good friend)

http://www.dumpalink.com/videos/Most-Expensive-Car-Cleaner-7c1d.html

I mean, why the hell didn’t I ever think of that? Wash cars with scientific precision and expensive soaps. Get paid 8-10 grand a car? If you think about it, demanding that high a price for your super-awesome-amazing-fun-time-go wash would eliminate Hondas almost entirely from your list of client’s cars.

Instead of this:
You get to wash this:

It’s like being offered a plate of crap covered crackers and a plate of fine Dutch chocolates, isn’t it? Which one to choose…

Think about how simple this formula is. If you can find a way to service the super-rich people and do something (well) then you can charge them obscene amounts of money. You get to work with cool shit and rip off the well-to-do as well! It’s win-win! (Sorry, rich guy. No amount of whining will ever make me feel sorry for you. Get over it, you have millions, own it.)

I won’t kid myself, there is no way I could do what he does. I think I would be enthralled the first few times, the methodical and detailed…er…detailing process would be enough to keep me going. Soon enough I know I would tire of it and might skip a step or leave a sandwich on the hood and watch some TV. I don’t know for certain, but I can imagine that a Bugatti owner might take umbrage to me leaving my lunch on his paint, if not litigious.

Then again at 8 grand a car I might be motivated to find the strength to go on.

I think this “chap” can serve as a lesson to all of us: It can be done. Or is it that stranger things have happened? You never know until you try? A bird in hand is worth two in the bush?

No, a good idea makes money, you just have to get off your ass and do it.

Tuesday Toy 3/20

If you have never heard of the IJN Yamato, then you have never heard of one of the most amazing machines ever built. The largest battleship EVER, she also sported the largest guns EVER at just over 18 inches. She carried nine of those. The blast from these huge guns was so great that the other gun crews could not be left exposed on deck to operate the smaller guns and had to be protected with thick blast shielding and complex, articulated enclosed gun turrets.

The ship itself was a marvel of design techniques and shapes, a real testament to the ingenuity and craftsmanship of the Japanese. She was fast, could turn with a much smaller radius than any of her American counterparts (if they can be called such in comparison to this titan) and strangely enough, I think, really a great looking piece of machinery. During her construction security was tight. A dockworker once bragged to a friend after work about the size of the ship he and his crew were building. He was never seen or heard from again after that night...

Yamato was also important to me in that it was the basis for Star Blazers, but that’s a topic for another day. The point of today’s blurb is that in Japan they have a museum for Yamato and inside is a 1:10 scale model.

Christ, even the model looks good.

What I would give to go there and see this recreation in person. It is one of the ultimate boy-toys, a model so huge and perfect in every detail that you want to be near it. I bet someone is wondering if their GI Joes would fit there. This copy, this work of art, will be the first “Coolest Thing Ever” for this blog-thing.

The Yamato is important for one more reason: she was sunk by airplanes, not ships. The mightiest ship ever to sail, the metal version of might, was done in by airplanes, carriers, and solitary (and brave) pilots. After this, it was all aircraft carriers, and the last vestige of the mighty ship of the line (in my mind) slipped under the Pacific for good.

Deep Sea Monsters 3/19

Here’s an example of the thing I fear most on this earth: deep sea creatures. Not only do they come in weird shapes with odd proboscis and needle teeth as long as your finger, not only are they from a place with pressures that would compact you to the size of a soda can, they are freaking BIG.



Look at that thing.

I should remind you that it’s a SHRIMP. Yeah, the deep sea version of a prawn, this thing should give you an idea of what the rest of its neighbors are like. Worms as thick as your arm, squid as big as a Jeep Cherokee, and fish as long as 10 feet or more; it’s enough to make me want to move to Nebraska and get as far away from the ocean as possible. Far, far away.

I don’t think it’s any wonder then that stuff like Cthulhu freaks me out. Mock me if you want, but when I read about monsters that “move in slippery slaps of green feet” with “flabby claws” and an “awful squid-head with writhing feelers” I want to cozy up next to the monster under my bed. At least HE has fur and can’t swim (I presume). Every person in Lovecraft's stories who meets the sea-god-thing dies, usually in a pretty miserable way.



I don’t want tentacles around me. I don’t want slime on my skin, and I certainly don’t want my poor brain to try and make sense of a creature older than the dinosaurs and far more bizarre looking. What do their fish brains think of when they see a man? Do cephalopod mouth parts clatter and click in anticipation of a juicy man-finger carelessly left within biting reach?

Ew.

Scott Walker Sunday Sampler 3/18

Hey! Listen!




Here’s Scott Walker. If you have no idea who he was, click on his name and learn about him. His life details aren’t important, his singing is. He’s a guilty pleasure of mine, something I don’t announce to people upon first meeting them. Although when I think about it, maybe I should.

New Guy: “Hi, I’m New Guy.”
Me: “I like Scott Walker. He’s best to listen to when it rains with a glass of 18 year old scotch in one hand and a Marlboro in the other.”
New Guy: “…um…”

Yes. I definitely need to do that from now on.

I’m telling you, if you haven’t spent some time mourning the loss of a relationship or celebrating your newfound freedom from a relationship while listening to a Scott Walker album, then you are missing one of life’s great Moments.

One thing, though: you MUST have a drink while listening and it should probably be nighttime. Beer is okay too.

You don’t have to be suffering a breakup either. Sometimes it’s just good to let his golden pipes fill your living room with the ether of baritone crooning. His magic is just as potent with your better half in the room with you. Still, you should probably both be drinking, maybe slow dancing, but absolutely drinking.

(Warning: the next statement involves France and might be snobby.)

I was introduced to Scott in France in ’96. The song was “Jackie” and I was immediately hooked. You know how you sometimes think of the 60s and picture the smooth operator on stage, tight pants, great hair, and a tragic song of love and loss but with a catchy hook? That’s him.

I don’t bust him out every night or even every week, but every now and then I need my dose of Scott.

Scott Walker isn’t groovy, he wraps groovy up in rolling papers and smokes it in a pub with a pint - with really big sunglasses on.

-J-

Saturday Morning Cartoons 3/17

Here’s a cartoon to help you ease into Saturday. I truly miss the old Saturday morning cartoons. The advent of cable and the crushing activism of parent groups managed to forever do away with our 3-4 hour blocks of animated goodness on what was by far the Best Kid Day of the week.

I think Saturdays here will henceforth be dedicated to this bygone institution.



To me there is something wonderful about the Saturday ritual of getting up and watching some cartoons in my jammies with a heaping bowl of cereal and my best blanket. It was fun when I was a kid too. I mean, parents complain that their kids watch TV all day, yet the eradication of the Saturday morning cartoons was, I think, counterproductive.

Think about it – after about 11:00 or 12:00 the cartoons phased into teen dramas or, worse, do-it-yourself shows for grown-ups. What did you do? You didn’t keep watching that’s for sure; now it was time for your bike, your friends, or a big pile of dirt somewhere.

Cartoon Network never stops. Nickelodeon never stops. DVRs, DVDs can be watched over and over with the touch of a button. Parents, you fools, you ruined the perfect kid distraction, one that ENDED and made them *gasp* go outside.

Well done.

Do you remember Jayce and the Wheeled Warriors? Since it’s St. Patrick’s Day and green is in, I figure it’s only fitting to view the intro of a show where the hero fought against plants. Sure, they had a cool name in “Monster Minds” but they were plants. Not really a “kiss of the Blarney” but it’s the best I can do.



Ah 1980s, whatever would I do without you?

First

Here’s the first post for me in my first blog-thing. I have no idea why I am so suddenly possessed to add to the dotsam and netsam out there already, but then again why the hell do I do anything? The simple answer is: it sounded good at the time. A more complex answer might have to do with keeping me motivated to write regularly, but that one is my secret and not for you to know.

In general I avoid blogs; most are about personal things or things that should remain personal. I also notice that many are dripping with a pithy tone, a smirk upon the author’s face while they type at Starbucks. I am not always capable of humor - pithy, wry, biting, or otherwise - especially not while I type at Starbucks. I don’t think that my life is eventful or exciting enough for a daily or even weekly update on my winsome travails in my office chair (or at Starbucks). I have many liabilities when it comes to juicy posts: I am in a stable relationship, I don’t have any outstanding warrants for my arrest, and there are scant few pirates in my life threatening to relieve me of my rum or booty. There, that was kind of pithy, wasn’t it?

No, a periodic update doused with “me” will not be interesting, even for me. I think instead I’ll just post about OTHER things and people and places. Plenty of people do that, in fact meta-blogging is all the rage nowadays. I promise to keep the posts about Jeff’s cat or my new shoes to an absolute minimum. I hereby swear that, for the most part, this blog is only going to focus on things I like, dislike, or sincerely wish for you to like or dislike.

I need to do it daily, no excuses. I don’t know if you know this, but a Blank Page sucks to look at. It’s like looking at 100 acres of unplowed fields, your mind trying to figure out how long it will take for you to plow it over, all the while you are more and more aware of the single rusty hoe in your hand. There’s a secret to beating the Blank Page, though. If you fill it up with words and stuff, it goes away…

While this routine of filling up a page, once repeated, can make a book happen, you can’t write about Your Story all the time. Well, I can’t anyway; my apologies for speaking for you. A warm up helps, though, and I think this will be a nice way to balance that with mental distraction.

Listen, I’m not Toyota; I can’t promise quality all the time. I can’t say how many pirates there may be (very few I think – things are tougher in the Spanish Main these days). I can’t even say if I will even like what I put up every day. I’m hoping I can get my engines warmed up though and maybe give you something to look at while your laundry spins or you can’t think of a hot actor/actress to Google.

-J-