"D'ya fancy Billie Piper, sir?"

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=WxB1gB6K-2A&feature=related

Catherine Tate and David Tennant (who, until this past May and a three-pack of Left Turn, The Stolen Earth and Journey's End, I only knew as barty Crouch, Jr.). Funny as hell.

I laughed so hard... yes, I'm finally becoming a fan of Doctor Who.

Back in 1995, I remember reading the 'Mondo Hollywood' issue of Details magazine, and there was agreat article about a filmmaker's first eyebrow-scorching experience of making a film - Lazarus, the story of a headless chicken who refuse to die. The line I remember from the article was when the guy said that if he could do something like that on a showstring budget, it could on;ly get easier with money. Doctor Who reverses that principle, because it's obvious that they don't have much money to spend.

Guess what? Hollywood should take a lesson from the BBC - because when you don't have money to waste on eye-candy special effects, you have to make up for it with actual acting skill and excellent writing.

In other words, the BBC has to be good at what they do... and they are.

A couple of months ago, I was awake at 3:50 in the morning - and where I live, the Sci-Fi Channel runs Doctor Who eps at 4 a.m. I learned a very important lesson that morning:


Don't watch the Doctor Who episode 'Blink' at four in the morning.


When you know what you're doing, you can scare the cowboy frak out of something with a few lights blinking, a few statues, and a hell of a script.

Here's a screenshot of the scariest moment (for me) in the episode:


See? THIS is what happens when you don't listen to the uber-cute little blonde who tells you NOT to take your eyes off the hyper-fast aliens who can only move when you aren't looking directly at them! I swear, I almost soiled every single item of clothing I had on when this happened...

It's a good show. I'll keep watching.

007 to stimulate the economy - among other things...

I admit it. I'm a big 007 fan - so you know that today is a fun day for me. Quantum of Solace comes out today in the U.S. - and yes, I will be in the first audience. Daniel Craig kicks mondo ass as the new Bond - I'd go so far to say that not only is he the best Bond since Sean Connery himself, but that if he and Connery were the same age and competing for the role... I'm not sure who would be the winner.

Yes, I do. The fans.

You should hear the media talking about the film -I mean, they're expecting this film to not only make money, but to stimulate the economy because of the various products that are connected to the film's release. The video game, various products featured in the film... it's my understanding that the film has made over 200 million in the overseas markets where it's already been released, and they're predicting a 45-65 million dollar opening weekend.

They forget that this is James Bond. He'll probably blow up the box-office with a 85-90 million dollar open weekend.


Now, lest you few people who read this think that I'm more emotionally damaged and mentally challenged than I actually am (and let's just say that the bar is not too far off between the two) - yes, I know that it's just escapist entertainment. Jeez. Let me have an hour or two of 'DAAAAAAAAAAM! Did you just see that?'

Okay. I don't act or talk like that - but you get the idea.


On another subject - what's with the rail-thin girls infesting the soaps? Damn, you get the idea that a man would bed one of these women and snap the poor thing in half! Mental note, ladies - 'cocaine chic' really isn't, and most men like having a little something more than bones to hold onto.



Android kitten nipples. Why? Because someone had to think of it.

Green tea, Sean Hannity, and Palinanity...

I've recently discovered Green Tea. Lipton Green Tea with citrus, in the 1.5 liter bottle. It soothes and fills Ye Olde Stomach. Good stuff.






Okay - now that the election is over, I can ask some questions, such as - what the hell did Barack Obama do to piss Sean Hannity of Faux News off so badly? I mean, this man all but HATES Obama - and if he doesn't, you seriously wonder if he and Obama had a converstion with Deep Thought about how Obama would get eternal historical acclaim and Hannity would get money and babes... I mean, come on. Look at what Faux News stocks their newsrooms with these days. Hell, I'd go G.O.P. if I thought it would get me a shot at a three-way with Jaime Colby and Ainsley Earnhardt!) You really wonder if Hannity is pissed because Obama (or a brotha just like him) took the girl that he always wanted out from under his nose, and he's never let it go.



(A sidebar on this. I watch both Countdown and The O'Reilly Factor - it's better than Comedy Central for laughs, more often than not. Granted, I don't agree with either all of the time - guess I just don't like the taste of either red or blue Kool-Aid - but I have to say this: When O'Reilly was on The View, Joy Behar was a total bitch towards the man while he went out of his way to be charming and cordial. Elizabeth Hasselbeck, on the other hand... is 'fawning over him' the right phrase to describe the was she acted in his presence? Memo to everybody on TV shows like these - the average person watches you for entertainment and the occasional differing perspective from their own. Bring it back a notch.









Almost forgot. Keith. Bill. Verbal Thunderdome. I'd fork out the pay-per-view bucks for that one without hesitation.)






Oh, and let's not forget the 'folksy charm' of pseudo-hockey mom Sarah Palin. Message to Govenor Palin: Please. Stop it. Just... stop it.







(sigh)










Okay.






First - you are not an average person. George Bush got away with that crapoganza twice; thank God that you didn't manage it this year. Here's the thing; despite everything else in your background, you are the Governor of Alaska. This means that you are in a very select group; U.S. Governors and U. S. Senators - one of a hundred and fifty individuals with a direct and clear path to the Presidency of the Unites States of America. The means of how you got there is irrlevent; the fact is that you ARE in that position, and no average person could attain that position. Stop pandering to the masses by maintaining that 'I'm one of you' act - especially when you're a Republican, a party that has built a reputation for, shall we say, lack of inclusion of the masses if they don't fit specific criteria in skin tone, religious preference and financial status.



Also, please stop it with the 'Real American' stuff. As a former comics buff, this is what comes to mind:








Just stop it, already. Stop acting as if intelligence and a drive to better oneself through education was a crime against the People of the United States of America...


Here's my big problem with people who, like McCain and Palin, make persons of higher education seem as they're a different species than 'decent, honest, hard-working, God-fearing, red-blooded patriotic Americans':


It's a slap in the face and the disavoval of what is supposed to be one of the oldest and the greatest of our communal beliefs as Americans - that we're supposed to work hard to better ourselves, and make it possible for our children to better themselves so that they will have better lives than we did. My father did twenty-six years in the U.S. Army and another fifteen for the Illinois Department of Labor, and my mother was a seamstress for the majority of my life so that some of my brothers and I could better ourselves in college. I was doing okay at that - I was producing TV shows for a local non-profit until a spider put me on the sidelines.


The point is - what kind of parent wishes less upon their child - acts to keep him or her from reaching their potential, intellectually or otherwise - and what parent then rejects their child for becoming exactly our society has told us to make our children into... more intelligent people than we are, with the same basic values, but with the God-given and school-infused abilities to consider other opportunities and points of view in order to make up their own minds and make their own decisions? What does that say about us if we say that our brothers, sisters and children are no longer part of us because they have learned and grown, and possibly do not share our complete values system or our beliefs? Does that mean that they are no longer our family?

Is that what you're saying, Governor?



End of rant



(By the way, if anyone knows of a good Legal Malpractice attorney that can operate in the State of Illinois and doesn't mind a fight or slapping attorneys who dearly deserve it around a bit - send me their contact info. I could use that.)

"What day is it? What YEAR!"

Just getting the gratuious babeage out there right away, folks. No need to thank me.

Yep - it's been a while since I've posted. Laziness, I'd like to say, and for the most part - that would be correct. Lots of things - good, annoying, bad, sucky - most of them sterling examples of why most members of humanity could do with the occasional bracing slap in the mouth. If I ever find a person who's remotely responsible for some of teh crap that infects computers... oh, and by the way, I used to have respect for CounterSpy. HA! if anyone knows a good antivirus/antimalware/antispyware package, let me know.

Obama won. Well. Color me surprised. With Caribou Barbie and Darth McCain on the prowl, I really thought the public would swallow a lot more of their lies. Guess people really DO vote their wallets. Onething, people - DO NOT think that racism, sexism, ageism, discrimination, bigotry, homophobia, prejudice or any of a thousand other ills of our time and of all time will go away or are rendered null and void because 'President Obama' will be a reality. If you doubt me, look at this:

Hey, everybody - it's Mensa, and they're styling the big bikes!

Weed laws passed. Give me half an ounce, a couple of beers (anybody got the name of a good beer?) and let's party - besides, with the way my legs hurt sometimes, I could possibly argue 'medicinal use', anyway.

A shout-out to all of the Daria fans out there who are keeping a great animated series alive, and a special shout-out to Glenn Eichler, the co-creator of Daria, who just won an Emmy as part of the writing team of The Colbert Report!

Here's the image created by uber-talented grahic artist S.C. for a congratulatory message sent by Daria fans across the world to The Glenn (that work spearheaded by Australian fan Deref (yes, Handsome Doctor Deref, for you that remember the series) and PPMB Supreme System Lord Kara Wild. (Apparently, she hasn't reached the point in law school where they remove your soul and stick a demon inside. I wonder if that's what happens during your bar examination? Okay, I kid a touch too much.)

Congrats from the Cathedral to The Glenn!

Along those lines - PPMB denizen TAG has come up with an interesting shared-worlds setting for Daria fics called 'Daylight', dealing with ( it's TAG, what else?) some serious end-of-the-worldage as the Sun decides to bring the pain, and in the process wipes out nearly all life on Earth. Nasty stuff - complete with the knowledge that it could actually happen.

If you dare... the starting point is here:

http://dariaverse.com/daylight.html

Also, there have been some interesting Daria fics based in this setting. Your go-point to read on is at:

http://www.dariawiki.org/wiki/index.php?title=Daylight

Enjoy!

And now - it's time for some gratituous cuteness!

Well, I'll try to keep this more up-to-date. I'll also try not to fall off the stool I sit off when I'm writing when I fall asleep when typing. 'Sick and sad' doesn't even begin to cover it - but then again, neither does getting socked in the flesh silo by your four-and five-year-old nephews when you're not paying attention. OW. Going to have to sign those two up for some good old-fashioned child abuse...

By the way - semi-automatics or revolvers, and in which caliber? The debate goes on.

Off we go, then.

A Fellow PPMBers' definition of Heaven...

This one's for you, TAG, for all of the Daria-related things you've done.

Time to be a'pissin' off the wimmenfolks and the Democrats...

Let's start by thinking of all the cheap pickup lines you chicks have ever had directed at you, used in your presence, and (to really tick you gals off) the ones you wish that particular guy (or girl, because things have changed) would have directed at YOU rather than someone else, because you'd have jumped for it the way those hungry fish in your fishtank at home jump when you feed them after forgetting to for a day or so. (It happens.)

Now, think of the way guys and other women look at you when you wear (a.) something really nice, or (b.) wear something you chose with the specific intent of reminding one certain guy or EVERY GUY IN SIGHT that yes, you ARE a woman. (Okay. If you're doing it for the latter, this post doesn't apply. Scratch that one off... and by the way, more power to you, milady. The Id of every man who crosses your path thanks you.) Yes, each and every one of those straight guys wants nothing more than to use you like he's King Leonidas and you're Xerxes' pride. (Sorry. '300' came on cable last month - finally got a chance to see it. The Daria fans in the midst will understand when I say, 'Mmmmmm. Oracle girls. The Priestesses at DELPHI are hopefully that... limber.')

The ladies who see you dressed like that? Back when I was in college, I remember noticing the phomenoma I coined 'the Cone of Silence.' Watch when a VERY beautiful woman goes past or through a moderately-sized crowd: you'll immediately notice a defined 'cone of silence that seems to radiate out and behind her, followed immediately by a second field of sound. The first wave is that of the guys struck momentarily by their hormones drawing power off from all other systems, and the other women seeing an immedite threat arrive in the vicinity. ('Territoriality, thy name is woman.' ) Then, the wave of sound begins... the sound of the women cutting her down.

Don't believe me? Go to a college campus (or in the general vicinity) on a weekend and find out for yourself.

But I digress. Ladies - go back over all of this and if that hasn't annoyed you enough, then let be get out the 'coach gun' - the double-barreled slam that assures a 98% probability of ticking ANY woman off.

1.) No, he (you KNOW who I'm talking about) does NOT want to spend time with you, take a walk with you, come over to your place, or see you naked... because he's just not into you.

2.) You ARE just like a sister to him. End of story. Life goes on.

Now that the lasses are suitably ticked off, it's time for the Dems to get theirs.

Four words.

Rush Limbaugh was right.


Now, what do these two things have to do with one another? Well, in the traditional convoluted, ice-slickened and fog-filled road I usually lay out through the mountainside to get to the point, I also toss in March of next year -2009. That's the first full month the U.S. will stop broadcasting analog TV signals and EVERYBODY has to go digital.

Well, there are going to be a LOT of pissed-off people out there, once we get forced to 'experience the wonder and the quality of high-definition digital TV. Reason? Because even the most physically perfect and attractive among us will be subject to greater scrutiny in the new age of television... and because makeup can only do so much.

A few years back, a woman named Marny Steiner filed a court case against The Weather Channel on the basis of age discrimination, claiming that she was given the bum's rush because she was in her forties and they wanted to get rid of her in order to increase the ratings by putting more attractive women on the screen. Rush did a broadcast where he basically said 'So? They're right!'

Hate to agree with old Rush (did he get that name for the way he feels after gobbling down some of those ill-gotten drugs? You decide!) but let's be honest - the name of the game is RATINGS. (How else can you describe 'When Weather Changed History'? GOD! Memo to The Weather Channel! You want ratings? FINE! Here's how you do it! One - Get a couple of meterologists with gravitas and put them on the air. Two - Stop trying to be the Discovery Channel - with the exception of 'Storm Stories', your programming SUCKS! Three - GET RID OF JIM CANTORE! He's a walking punchline! Four - Hire back Hillary Andrews! yes, she was kind of ditzy and she dissed Cantore, but we watched her because (a.) we had NO FRAKKIN' IDEA what she would do next (see 'Howard Stern' in the 'How to keep them tuned in' manual) and (b.) lots of people thought that she was attractive. THIS is a point you should keep in mind. It'll be important later, and it WILL be on the final. Five - SHUT THE FRAK UP about how the female meterologists dress on-air! If Alexandra Steele wants to wear sheer blouses and thin sweaters, and it appears as if the tempature in the studio is -39 degrees every time she's on screen... this means us guys are watching. We like pretty girls. (Again, refer to the Hillary Andrews point if reference to Alexandra.) SIX. FOCUS ON THE WEATHER - don't try to make it exciting - unless it's very bad weather, the very subject isn't exciting... and then, it's all too exciting.

A happy day for me? If The Weathe Channel filched the tagline of Fox News - and then followed the spirit of it.

'We Report - You Decide.'

Again - back on subject. When you watch The Weather Channel, you NOW watch for 'Weather on the 8's' and the occasional cute weatherperson (Note to Eboni Deon. Slap your hairstylist and go find another one. Please. Hurry.) . By its very definition, that means you're paying attention to the looks. That's okay, if you're honest about it.


That's the problem with all of this - what ties it all together, and why trouble lies ahead.


Television, by its very nature, is about presenting the very best visual images in order to draw our attention. (Yes, really. If you're all about 'deeper meaning' and 'character development' - read a book. Not that television doesn't have the capacity to have this, or that it doesn't happen - but BELIEVE ME when I say that it's a secondary concern.) There's a reason why the terms 'Hollywood Homely' and 'Hollywood nerd' exist - because the grand majority of us COULD NOT be on a television program - or only as secondary characters, in recurring roles or as Bad Guys. Yes. Really. This is true. Hey - I KNOW that I'm ugly enough to scare starving pit bulls off the back of a meat truck. I actually scared the hell out of two stray dogs late one night, when I was returning from doing laundry. Long story.

Anyway. Digital TV is REALLY going to raise havoc in the entertainment and news industries, as only the VERY attractive will be immune to the equally humanizing effect that high-def will have on the on-air talent: it shows off every physical flaw.

So now, ladies - you're going to have to fall back on what we guys have had to deal with since time began: the world of self-delusion. Just kidding.

You get it worse. You won't even have the fantaasy of believing that, as a TV star, you're somehow MORE than other women, better, prettier, more alluring. High-Def will take that away - amd make you all that you are now, because as I mentioned earlier - makeup can only do so much.

Now, think that over for a minute.














Remember I said earlier that a good idea was to hire back Hillary Andrews and let Alexandra Steele wear what she wants, because (in a nutshell) people think they're attractive?

That's the rub, folks. If we think you're attractive, regardless of what High-def does or is capable of exposing, we'll still watch. If we like you because of what you do on screen, we'll watch. If you've made yourself someone who we enjoy on the air - we'll watch, regardless of what you look like or how High-Def reveals your flaws.

And, to you ladies in the real world - the same thing applies. If you're someone who we want to have in our lives, we will make an effort to keep you there, regardless of what you look like.

Here endeth the rant.

"We don't say 'die',we say 'KILL!'"

Haven't felt too snarky lately. More like snarly, or snarling, or just tearing off limbs of others.

Feeling like inserting bullets manually in a host of people, rather than shooting them. Let's see:


- New York politicians involved in sex scandals. No, really? Guys in power getting a little extra tail on the side - who would have expected it? What's the world coming to? Personally, if I was all about getting some action all over the place as a politician, I'd join the Republican Party. Three words:

Female. College. Republicans.

Oh, yeah! Hot, intelligent, and 'dedicated to the cause'. Remember that horrid little ditty from Grease 2 - 'Let's Do It For Our Country?' Ooooooh... gotta love those young ladies who are prepared to give that last full measure of devotion for their Republican leaders. Say it with me people - Democrats like Obama have the charm, but Republicans boff their cute intern over the couch arm.

- The bloodsport we call the Democratic primary. As far as I'm concerned, way to go, folks. Either way, you've got McCain and his crew sipping bubbly and checking out the oh-so-nice curves on that cute little senior with the butter-blonde hair cut fashionably short, who hails from Oberlin College and who's taken a year off school (of course, Daddy and Mumsie are paying her way) so she could volunteer to work in the McCain campaign, even during the dark days of Summer 2007, because she knows that 'it's for the good of the country.'

They can afford to. Obama and Clinton have savaged each other with enough ammo that all McCain has to do is pick up their spent cartridges, handload them, and shoot the 'winner' from Denver with them again. (I'm here to tell you that that 'It's 3 a.m.' commercial is going to come back to haunt the Democratic candidate, I kid you not.)


- Why lie? I can't stand lawyers. Roberh Heinlien said it best in Friday, when he remarked that there are only two types of lawyers - those who meke life easier for others, and parasites. I've mainly dealt with the latter, thank you for asking. Tell me - becoming a lawyer. Becoming a vampire in the Buffyverse. What's the difference? Both involve arcane rituals, existing off the suffering of the commom man, and being given power when a demon is placed inside your body and your soul is destroyed.

Yes. NOW you can say that I'm REALLY pissed off about something - at least, God willing, I'll have the pleasure of reading about the sumbitch lawyers who've been the focal points of my past decade's misery as they burn in the real world. I'm tired of hearing about 'Vengeance is mine, saith the Lord,' and 'They'll get theirs in the end.' Unless I get to have their 'getting it in the end' involve the laundry-room floor of a prison, inmates who haven't had consensual sex with the opposite sex for decades and various implements suited for insertion sans industrial lubrication - I'd enjoy some reciprocity in the here and now, please.

And pass me the popcorn and the berry tea. I've developed a taste for it, recently.


- Pancake puffs. Do those pans really work? It looks damned interesting- but that's what advertising does. Man, those pizza puffs, cake puffs and blueberry muffin puffs look good...


Gonna stop now. Sleepy. Love to be tucked into bed by a female College Republican after a cup of hot berry tea and a couple of muffin puffs.

That's gotta wait until my next life.

Do they look the same? You decide!

Sometimes, you just have to ride it out

Went to the dentist yesterday. Well, down to the clinic, where the dental tech students get real-world experience by working on walk-in lab rats- I mean, real people. Anyway, I had a teeth cleaning...

OW.

What sucked was that the tech working on me was a cute little thing, and I could have cared less. Attractive young women mean nothing when you're in pain and focusing past it.

We must have priorities.

Lindsay Lohan, grasping for attention (NSFW)

I put the warning up because of the people who might be offended. You should go somewhere else for the duration of this post.
































Okay.





Lindsay Hohan was never really much of an actress (let's not even talk about that abortion of a singing career), but she was a cute redhead who wasn't exactly bad in the remake of The Parent Trap, was reasonably cute in Herbie: Fully Loaded, and was was actually pretty damn good in Mean Girls (Rock on, Tina Fey! Excellent script!).



Maybe if she'd stayed home and worked on her craft instead of hitting the bar scene and hitting the nose candy, she'd have been something. Now... not sure where she's going.


If you're familiar with New York magaazine (and many of you will be, before long), you'll get to see what has to be the last gasp for attention that reasonably-attractive actresses use to try and stay in the public eye before the black hole of the B-List (and lower) pulls them across the event horizon.





Nudity.



Heard much about the great roles Elizabeth Berkeley's gotten lately?


Anyway, here's a couple of shots that define the last legs of what might have been an interesting little career.

















































































Too bad. She was a cute little redhead.

On fire in so many ways

So I'm looking over the boards on PPMB the other day, and comments on one thread somehow touch upon the singer Shakira (both the lyrics to her song Whenever, Wherever, and the fact that she has... an amply curvy posterior). I revisited the song on YouTube (the link's provided below), and as I watched, I recalled my feelings when I first saw it back in 2001 or 2002.

Besides that.

I've always been fascinated with bellydancing. Vestigal trait from being a fan of the James Bond films.

I recall thinking, "You know... I really don't have a problem with this."

I guess Sir Mix-A-Lot was right. (Even so, PPMB poster cyde got off a great slam in that thread. I almost cried laughing. As for the song's lyrics - I've never seen mountains, so there might still be some confusion in the matter...) I am such a simple creature, in many respects.


http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=F-3brRCRsA8


Anyway, I'm flipping through some old downloaded videos, and I came across a clip that makes me think that the events of the film Idocracy could actually happen. (WARNING! Because of language, this clip is NSFW!)

Now, at what point of this process did this Shrubya-worshipper actually think that this would all end well? I mean - really!

On a happier note, I took the points stressed in the coverage of my script and did a revised first draft. Tightened things up a lot, began the romance elements a lot earlier into the first act and cut the length by 20+ pages. (I knew that I'd have to do that anyway - 120 pages or less was DRILLED into me by my screenwriting instructor back at SIU-Carbondale!) I also cleared up the precise nature of the protagonist's employment, which the reader had a big problem with, and got rid of some of the more prose-like descriptions. (When you're not around people who do the things you do, occasionally, things slip.)

I'll let you know how things progress on that front.

Gotta love how that idiot rotates away from the blast zone, though...! I'm sorry, but this never gets old - it's like a groin shot, with pyrotechnics!

To paraphrase Samuel L. Jackson, "Stop, drop and roll, you dumb-ass motherf***er!"

If you can't be with the one you love...

...love the one you're with.

As Valentine's Day approaches, consider these gentle sentiments.

As this is also Abraham Lincoln's birthday... the sentiments are even more profound.

Farewell, Jeff Gregory...

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=se9FNdyKFtk


He was a fellow poster on PPMB. I'll let the other people post tributes and say nice things.

We both really liked Babylon 5, and he would always catch my B5 references. This clip is from the first film from the show- In The Beginning.

I would have really liked to have met him in person. Someday, though. Right now, he's busy... holding the Line.

A fine line between playful and brain-dead

I think we all know that I don't mind showing a little bit of Ye Olde Cheesecake in this here blog. (Don't worry, girls - this coming Casually Exasperating Friday (otherwise known as Valentine's Day) I WILL have something for you. (Fair's fair, after all.)

Today, however, I was casually surfing Ye Olde Net when I happened to cross-reference The Hills. For those of you fortunate enough to actually have bailed out from the zombie-infested cruise ship we know as MTV after they gave Daria the heave-ho (although if you ask me, there's a lot of actual 'ho's from the network that not only give you the dry heaves, but should have been given a heave - or a nice shove - out a wonderfully high window somewhere), The Hills is the spin-off from yet another MTV gem that renders the concept of ipecac moot in intelligent persons (Laguna Beach).

Enough said on description. Yes, there are pretty girls on the show, but to paraphrase William W. Johnstone, there are pretty girls everywhere you go. These girls, however, perpetuate the notion that you can be an attractive, petty, scandalous and vapid young woman (not to mention the guys) with the depth of an emery board and yet, be rewarded handsomely for it!

I bring this up because as I was cruising, I found an article that said that one of the girls - Heidi Montag - was going to be offered a cool million to drop trou for Playboy. I laughed.

To understand the ture depths of my mirth, go to YouTube and type in her name, or go looking around for her song. Turn down the volume so you can't hear a thing, and watch her frolic about on the beach for as long as you can stand it. Then, go back to the beginning and actually try and listen to the song.

Here's a warning, though; she makes Paris Hilton look like a possible Grammy contender.

Now, why am I dishing on her? Two reasons - the first of which is part of this page of The Superficial website:




Anyway, everybody's favorite plastic surgery role model Heidi Montag was spotted frolicking on the beach yesterday wearing a pink bikini and carrying around a red life preserver. What an accomplished life. When she's 60 and looking back on her life she'll be able to say she inspired a nation of girls to get breast implants and run on the beach. Somebody should get started on her biography now. It's such a moving story of determination and the human spirit. She makes that Rosa Parks character look like a total douche.



Damn. Anyway, there's cheesecake of somebody who actually has some measure of talent, nomatter how small, and is actually working and trying to improve themselves and their craft, (Snark as you will - Jessica Alba has some small skills... and a natural rack... and I do like her smile...) and there's spreading more images of a vapid child who's worth about half as much as a night's dinner, drinks and dancing with that hot Emperor penguin from Craft Services who always saves you a couple of extra giant blueberry muffins because she knows that you like them so much.

Sorry. Psychic bleedover from PPMB. Back on track. I'm not posting photos of her because that's all she's about - being yet the latest in a never-ending string of penny-a-dozen, here-today-gone-by-five starlets and wannabes that are the dead-on inspiration for Bowling For Soup's OUCH! that hurts because it's REAL! ditty 1985. Why the hell should I help her by posting photos of her?

Of course, there the naysayers who go, 'But - by even mentioning her, you'd giving her what she wants!'

A story from the past. Back when I was working in local TV production, I was sitting in the edit bay in the studio when Patrick (a foul little being I'll certainly talk more about some other day)walks in, wearing his gi, and stops in fromt of the door as if to announce his presence. (That's the outfit that people in the martial arts practice in. It's important - I know most of you know that already - but I had to specify that for the laughs.) See, he was teaching a martial arts class in a nearby park, and had just come in from that class, wearing his gi and carrying himself all puffed and proud, with the dirt and grass and blood stains on it - a warrior coming in from baattle, so to speak.

I took a look at him, and turned back to the editing machines.

I turned back, looked at him again, and then (I swear to God I didn't mean to do this!) I burst out laughing. I mean, REAL Laughter, the kind you get when you hear an old Robin Williams comedy skit from the '80's . The way you laugh when you hear Sam Kinison at the beginning of his short career, when you watch the GOOD Mel Brooks films (like Young Frankenstien or Blazing Saddles), or watch Richard Pryor - Live On The Sunset Strip. That kind of laughter that just comes from within your soul, when you know you should be ashamed of laughing, but damn it, it's just so funny-!

Patrick's face fell. Without a word, he walked off to the restroom, aand came back several minutes later in street clothes. He NEVER wore his gi around me again.

Moral of the story? I'm not telling you about Heidi Montag so you can go and ogle her, and drool over her, and say, 'Man, she's hot' (if that's what you're into). I'm telling you so that you may go forth and - as she attempts to make her way in ths business that we call show - you may laugh... and mock... and make fun of.

Look on the bright side, though! In between three to seven years, some righ guy with cash is going to get an excellent seat cover for his flashy car, she'll get a sugar daddy and off our collective celebrity radar and TV screen, and somewhere down the road, there'll be a couple of kids that are going to be kind of attractive because of Mom's decent genetics. Maybe not too much in the attic, but then again - that's what school is for. Along those lines - you ever get the feeling that the events of Lean On Me, and 'Crazy' Joe Cark, would have been better served if all had taken place in the school where the Laguna Beach kids attended (or should we say 'infested'?)

Oh, yes. The vapid child gets ten to twenty-five stacks per episode. Feel sorry for her. Feel tres sorry for her.

Yeah, right. Prepare to go to 105% on the snark reactor!

Just cute animals, and a little Faith...

I just like this photo.

I also like this one. Is it just me, or was Ms. Dushku's Faith more interesting that Sarah Michelle Geller's Buffy (not that I didn't like Little Miss Likes-To-Fight), but Faith was just more interesting - especially when she and the Mayor were doing their father/daughter thing. Touching and creepy , all at once.

Also - Faith would kick the cowboy hell out of Jessica Alba's Max on the FOX Network's Dark Angel.

She looks better, too - whether in laced-up leather skankwear or in a simple little dress. (Remember the scene in BtVS, Season Three, when she had the simple little dress on, and the Mayor said that if aany of the boys in Sunnydale survived, they'd be lining up to go out with her?

Man... the Mayor knew what young men were all about.

The Cage Match Of All Time!

There's a phrase from Dune that my brother uses, which describes this perfectly, which translates to 'Nothing more need be said.'

Thundersnows, the Super Bowl, and The Others...

1.) Sunday. Super Bowl. Here in Central Illinois, we had a thundersnow.

That's right - thundersnow. You know, heavy snow falling, serious bolts of lightning flashing about and lighting up the sky, and that wonderful thunder, here to rattle your brains and terrify you (if you remember the formula that tells you just how close that bolt of lightning really is to frying you).

That was weird.


2.) The Super Bowl. I had some great chicken, good beer, ranch dip and great chips - and the Patriots got bent over a crate like Marcellus Wallace in Pulp Fiction. I heard that the boys in Vegas list 2.6 million over that game. Oh well.


3.) The Others. That was a sad little show that NBC tried out in the pre-Heroes era of 2000, when they had no idea that yes, there WERE people (outside of the fanboys/fangirls) who would watch a show about a geeky Japanese guy who was so damned and absolutely glad to have superpowers, and that he'd drag his boy along for the ride! (Still my favorite moment from the show; Ando is in the 'bad guys' van when they toss Hiro in - after he came back to save Ando by giving himself up. Ando looks over at him: 'You came back for me.' Hiro: 'This is how we roll.' The idea of having friends who've got your back like that, and they aren't buff, handsome, stereotypical hero-types... nice.)


Anyway, The Others was about a group of psychics. It was sad; naturally, I have all the epsodes broadcast on tape. There was one great episode -Till Then - and a reasonably scary one - Souls on Board. SOB haad an especially good teaser... something straight out of the really good - really scary earlier seasons of The X-Files (remember the ep with the school board members that were Satan-worshippers, and a demon in the form of a female teacher showed up to break off the Devil's foot in their collective flat heinies?). It was so spooky... and I swear that, for a moment (because I had forgotten what show was on) that I was actually surprised when the theme music for The Others began, instead of The X-Files theme. The scary part? At the beginning of the credits in the first act, James Morgen and Glen Wong were listed as producers... yep - you can tell a person's work from a light-year out.


I'll have to get the artillery to transfer that stuff over to DVD, and then, onto YouTube or one of the other video sites. The better episodes were the scary ones that didn't try to go BOO, but just told a story and kept going as you got scared and felt your bladder let go. Oh, yeah - and didn't try to push the all-TOO-obvious yes-we-ALL-know-its-gonna-happen romantic triangle between the cute and naive redhaired newcomer with the seriously high but as yet uncontrollable psi-powers, the handsome and empathic (in power and attitude) blond-haired hunk of a doctor, and the slinky-hot and oh-SO-bored-with-it-all blonde clairvoyant who has to try and be 'mysterious' (she goes by the name 'Satori', but her real name's Ellen Polaski)... did we?


Message to the staff of Heroes... granted, TV is a visual medium, and most superheroes are the handsome and attractive types (sigh), but remember what the guy said in Revenge of the Nerds 'I have a message for the beautiful people - there are more of us out here than there are of you.' A few more average people, and a few more average problems, too. (What you're doing with Micah and his female cousin - keep that up. By the way - thanks for getting rid of D.l. and Niki/Jessica/whatever, and giving Sylar back his power (gotta have a great villain to have great heroes) - did decades of Spider-Man teach us nothing?

Oh, yeah - CG - sorry, dude.


Again.


Random thought for the day - as soon as it gets warmer... I'm going to take a long, long walk.


Oh, and because it's the season, the guy I was kind of hoping to make a showing in the campaings for Prez:



















Dennis Kucinich. If he could convinich Elizabeth that she loved him and wanted to marry him... this is the guy I want in the White House. His BS skills are obviously up to cosmic levels.

Requsite gratutitous Jessica Alba shot...

Why? Because someone mentioned to me that it annoyed them! As the Homeboys from the 1990's FOX show In Living Color always used to say - 'Another satisfied customer!'

Speaking of color - this is Black History Month! Oh, I used to piss the people off when they wanted me to come up with stuff, because they wanted to always do something INSPIRATATIONAL. Now, boys and girls, if there's a word that I want hounded out of the Webster's Dictionary with dogs, shotguns torches and the requsite unwashed villagers, that's the one, alone with every damned permutation of the damned word. I am SO DAMNED TIRED of hearing about that.

Look at this - Americans are money-grubbing, untrusting, mean-spirited cold-hearted, calculating bastards. Exactly. Perfect for business and the legal profession. Seriously, though, what that means is that Americans have an affinity for people who can make money. If you can make money, well, hell, they may not want you to live next door to them, but they will run their grandchildren down cheerfully to get to the board meeting whey they sign a merger that will have you working with them if you can make them heaps and gobs and planetoids full of MONEY, MONEY, MONEY!

Why am I bringing this up? There's a wonderful article that you've probably never read, called 'Legacy of Black Entrepeneurship in America Goes Largely Ignored'. Cliffs Notes Version - yes, racism has always been here in America, and no one will deny the good of the Civil Rights movement. However - something was lost in that time - a legacy of African-American business ventures that grew and flourished for several reasons... one of them now embodied in the Asian and Arabic small businessmen in this country.

That reason? 'We have to do it for ourselves, because no one is going to do it for us.'

In the idea that the government is supposed to come in and help solve many problems, have Black Americans forgotten that in the past, there were many untold men and women of color who managed - despite all the slings and arrows that a country apathetic to them (at best) could herl and overlook being hurled - to forge successful business ventures recognized by all as just that - successful? If you want to inspire someone - create wealth! As a person once told me, the path to success can be duplicated!

Along those lines, I was picking up some pain meds at the Walgreens yesterday when I got into a conversation about the upcoming elections. (Personally, I think that we're looking at McCain in 2009, unless he does a Leo McGarry before the election - but that's for another time.) Anyway, I mentioned that I was for Edwards - to me, he was the guy with the skills, and it shocked the little old lady to hear me say that. "But aren't you for Obama? Don't you find him inspiring?"

I really shocked her when I said, "No. I don't find him particularly inspiring." I found Colin Powell inspiring, because he was a guy who busted his ass moving through the military to get to one of the biggest, hardest jobs to obtain and handle without frakkin' up - and he kicked ass. I don't exactly consider a first-term senator who comes off as a cross between a rock star and a low-level preacher 'inspiring'... and trust me when I say that I have more than had my fill of inspiring preacher types. More than my fill, and more than a lifetimes' worth.

You want to inspire me? Bust ass on ONE major piece of legislation that has long-reaching remifications that will have people talking for a long while! You want to inspire me? Do that as 'a man from Illinois' or 'a man from Chicagoland' or as 'a lawyer who decided to do some good in the world instead of just making money'... not 'just as a Black man!'

It's like I would tell the jackasses who did the race thing back in college: 'Please - don't dislike me because I'm Black. Hang around. Get to know me - and I promise you that before long, you'll have reasons to despise me that have NOTHING to do with my skin color!' Obama might be the next President. He might even be a great President. Problem is, is Obama going to be a Black President, or the President - who happens to be Black? There's a difference.

Along those lines (getting back to the original subject), I remember someone telling me that Jessica Alba was a Latina. I was taken back a bit, because I thought that she was a brunette who dyed her hair for the Fantastic Four films. They said, no, she's a Latina, and I said - so what? As far as I'm concerned, she's a cute chick with a nice airframe!

After all - we have to consider what's really important.

P.S. - Watched Stargate Atlantis tonight. Emma Lahana (of Power Rangers: Dino Thunder fame) was the guest star. In her last scene, she and Joe Flanagan (who plays Colonel Shepard) were walking along a nice path, and she was wearing sone nice heels and a flowing shirt.

My, oh my, oh my, oh my, oh my. Someone's really been keeping up on her roadwork, because she has spectacular legs. See, I'm a leg guy - and I do like 'em long and defined. Yeah. She's the money.

Something bad, something good...

So, my younger brother comes over and fixes the doors on my car. PLUS..

Then he starts to lecture me on how 'I just don't want to work' and how I NEED to go out to the local school district and apply as a substitute teacher. (Apparently, he's (a.) forgotten that the problem with my legs hurts so much, and episodes occur out of the blue ofter enough that I keep Vicodin around to deal with the pain, and (b.) that this - 'me supposedly not wanting to work' - wasn't such a big deal from 1999 to 2006, when our parents were still alive and (especially in the case of my father) needed 24/7 supervision, couldn't really afford it and (in the case of my father) was such a pain that no one else in the family could or would set their lives aside to come in and act as caretaker. (You cannot divine the depths of jerkitude my father could descend to. The local senior citizens agency that provided him with part-time caretakers informed him that they would no longer do so - after he'd gone through seven or eight - because 'he was too hard on the workers.' I could tell you stories. Just use your imagination.) It's okay for me to have a disfiguring, painful condition when it benefits all others concerned in that you can't manage to escape your surroundings and are basically stuck with the short straw... but when I'm no longer needed to take care of the bastard - pull yourself up by your own bootlaces! You know you can - and by the way, you need to think about getting someone in your life, too! MINUS in negative numbers.

I got an agent based on my latest screenplay. PLUS.

In the script coverage I had done on the script, they liked the script but had some serious problems in terms of the placement of a couple of plot points. Also, the reader wasn't too crazy about the morals and ethics of the main character, but liked the original tone of the characters and the overall concept. They said I need to cut the page length and ease up on the descriptive tone, but really liked the romance in the script and the ending. They even liked the jokes, specifically mentioning how the set-ups paid off well. Nevertheless, they graded it as a 'pass' - but specifically said that rewrites could make this into a quality script. PLUS.

I hate working with kids - especially teenage kids - who don't want to learn, who aren't motivated and are dedicated to the concept of remaining unmotivated and ignorant. If you've caught any of my chapters of Legion of Lawndale Heroes (the excellent Daria/Legion of Super-Heroes crossover fic started in 2005 on the Sheep's Fluff Message Board by the Daria fanfic writer Roentgen) and read up on the character of Colonel Armalin, you might pick that attitude up. Maybe. Minus.

I hate the idea that people want you to assimilate into the social strata and become 'one of the group'. Okay, kiddies...


"Strength is irrelevant. Resistance is futile. We wish to improve ourselves. We will add your biological and technological distinctiveness to our own. Your culture will adapt to service ours."


That's science fiction. I like being an individual and going on my own path, and I have no desire to lemming off a cliff because YOU say 'that's what's best for me.' HOW THE FRAK WOULD YOU KNOW? Do what's best for yourself, and make recommendations for others... oh, I can't stand this part of the 'starving artist' program. You know, the 'poor and in a bit of pain' part. It allows the baseline-normals to think they're superior to you and bitch-slap you around verbally. They're not aware of a wonderful Hollywood maxim that almost everyone in the industry knows: 'Be careful of the toes you step on today - they may be attached to the ass you'll be kissing tomorrow.' The average person doesn't think like that... which is why they beg, cry and plead like stck pigs when the blisteringly unpleasant concept known as 'payback' is brought to their attention in a particularly heinous manner.

Yes, I like money, sex and walking down the street without having oh-so-powerful individuals with their $50-60,000+ jobs for Caterpillar, the hospitals and the city or the state looking down their noses at me. - but we must relearn walking before we get back to bedroom acrobatics. The nukes from orbit will come later.

It all balances out. Have a nice day.

Gratuituous cuteness posting...

... because we could all use it.

This week just SUCKS!

It really did - talk about a waste out of my life - there goes five days I'll never get back!

Why? Never mind - it just sucks. However, in the spirit of what truly defines America - communal anguish - I now present a video clip that will allow all of you to sharn in my annoyance in the Asrroglide-free rampaging buttsecks that has been the past week:

That's right, ladies - despite what people say in the truly politically correct vein, physical attractiveness IS an important part of everyday life - and those who say differently are liars, deluding themselves (and you) or simply trying to make you feel better so they can get something from you, out of you, or into you. Guys - if you're not dating or married to someone who looks like this - you probably won't be, and if you are, enjoy it, because as soon as she gets the chance, she's leaving you with a lot of your finances and possessions, so she can be vigorously serviced by someone younger, more virile and more physically attractive that you've ever been, even in your best daydreams or fantasies!

Now, I'll go clean up around the place, and take out the garbage. I'll probably put a comedy on later.

Laughter. This is a good thing.

And now, for something completely different...

...than one would expect for a person of color to post on Martin Luther King's birthday.






Yeah. This is from the animated MTV series Daria, and one of the most celebrated episodes ever - Quinn The Brain. I've always liked to think that this moment from the show proves two major plot points that many people don't like to think about (well, the ones who are in the 'Daria's an unattractive girl, and we wish people woukd stop portraying her in that manner!' camp):

1. Daria is an attractive girl who could EASILY compete with her younger sister Quinn in terms of looks, popularity and just having herself a slobbering he-harem of guys at her beck and call. Let's be honest - Daria in Quinn's day uniform? She'd have the boys begging for her to notice that they exist!

2. Several seconds after Daria walked past Quinn's room like this, and Quinn heard their dad call out those fateful words ("Daria, your dates are here!") Quinn relented her poser, pseudo-intellectual phase. She knows which side her bread's buttered on... and more importantly - who has her own butterfly knife.

3. The events of Quinn The Brain are canon. No disputing them because of the plot, and unlike episodes like Depth Takes A Holiday or Daria!, there's no disputing them because, well, the writers may have been smoking a couple of blunts loaded up with B.C. bud while working that word processor. (Yes, I know I said two - but, then again, that's just me.)

Finally, IMHO, Daria's cuter than Quinn - and from fanfic, Quinn's a screamer while Daria's a breather. Advantage - Daria.

Of course, your results and perversions may vary - but then again, isn't that what today is all about? (Okay, not really, but if you can't piss people off slightly during a national holiday that many people are STILL annoyed about (and many more are, but are afraid to mention it aloud for fear of, well, whatever they're afraid of happening to them) - then when CAN you piss them off?

Just remember, kids - it's always better to be pissed off... than pissed on.

Happy MLK, Jr.Day, everyone.

Gratuituous Jessica Alba posting...

Why? Because it's Friday!

Sometimes, I really wish that I COULD go insane...

Well. My younger brother went through outpatient surgery on Tuesday for a torn rotator cuff (I think that's what the doc said) in his left shoulder. They got ride of bone spurs and some other things, also, and then, hooked him up with a self-medicating pump. Oh, yeah. From what I've seen before, he's in real pain.

My most painful part of the episode is when, listening to him talk to the intake clerk, as to HOW he was hurt. Apparently, on his job (he's a teaching assistant at one of the local high schools) he and several other people were trying to catch a bat, and in the process of dealing with The Dark Knight, hurt his shoulder. Of course, Workman's Comp is covering everything.

This is where I get semi-snarky. Oh, and trust me when I say that I'm not bitter - I'm just PISSED OFF!

We now enter the Wayback Machine and head back to Early June of 1998. I'm at work (I was a TV producer at a non-profit here, behind the Corn Curtain). It's after five on a Friday afternoon, and believe me - I wouldn't be here, except for the fact that Commander McBragg ( not his real name - the Executive Director of the non-profit I worked for) made it very clear that we were to finish up the commercials for his own personal radio show. Dilbert (my boss - not real name), my boss, wants to leave, so he takes off a few minutes early.

This is where the 'you know, you were so STUPID!' sign should have lit up. I should have left as he did (after all, he's the boss, and if things aren't finished, well, feces do follow the naural incline of highly-elevated rock formations as gravity allows, correct?) No... I'm trying to be a good worker. Just as I finish up, I get bitten on the inner right ankle by a spider.

Peter Parker gets bitten by a spider, he becomes the Number Three superhero of all time, and the signature hero of Marvel Comics (not to mention the 'modern take' on superheroes started in the 1960's)... do I even have to mention the hot redhead? I get bitten by a spider, and well, let's just say that the last decade of my life has been, with a few minor moments otherwise... unpleasant.

Long story short. I couldn't work any longer at the job (after suffering for thirteen months trying to continue, getting NO medical assistance from the company and visibly getting worse - I should have made them fire me), I get NO assistance from the company or Workman's Comp (I'll write a movie on that one day) and basically, the world turns its collective back on me.
Lawyers? HAH! Not a one of them has been a bit of help! Yes, I know the correct quotation from Shakespheare, and oh, when he says that you were never your own man since, he speaks the Truth of the Ages.

I've never met a lawyer that I've liked. Perhaps it's just prejudice based on my own experiences, but the more I've experienced The Law and it's warrior-priests- and -priestesses, the more I agree with William W. Johnstone's character of Ben Raines. Also, the more I've experienced Lawyers, the more I laugh at the collective fantasies of law shows on television... especially lawyers that are driven to help people, and who (while wanting to make more than a decent living - a laudable goal) are less about making money and more about actually helping people who need it by acting as their guides and protectors through that which we know as The Legal Process. Tell me something - when you graduate from law school and pass the bar, do they take your soul out of your body and implant a demon within, the way they do in the Buffyverse? It would explain the last decade...

Of course, there was one exception. That guy helped me when there was absolutely no reason for him to, and there was no profit in it for him. To him, and the few lawyers that actually bring honor to a profession sorely in need of same... thank you.

The rest of you counselors can go fuck yourselves. Bit of a change from fucking over the rest of Humanity, and the occasional pig, goat, sheep or uncle that you occasionally indulge in.

Back on track. Aparently, in Peoria, Illinois, catching bats is part of the stated job duties of a teaching assistant, because Workman's Comp covers it, but if you're a TV producer and you get bitten by a brown recluse spider while at your desk doing the duties that the top man in the organization specifically stated you were supposed to complete - and that you otherwise wouldn't have been there to BE bitten in the first place - you're not entitled to compensation, because your job description doesn't cover being in places where you could encounter a poisonous spider.

For one moment, let's overlook the passage in my employment contract that I laughing referred to as the KKK - 'the Kunta Kinte Klause' - because it specifically states that your supervisors can ask you to perform any duties outside your normal job description as they may reqire. Instead, let's look at a partial list of duties that I performed as a producer for the non-profit I worked for as a TV producer:

* event videography, where I covered minority-based talent shows for long periods of time (say 7-10+ hours) in a park during late summer. Poisonous insects, angry attendees, gangbangers, sweltering heat, and basically standing still for hours while pointing a camera at people who only THINK that they're talented (although a few good acts do appear sporadically).

* video surveillance, in wwhich I was ordered, over the course of several days, to videotape the renovation of a recretion area in order to ensure that EEOC regulations were being carried out in that minority workers were being employed on the site.

* The (thankfully nixed) idea my immediate supervisor had of doing a story on drugs, with our filming actual drug deals taking place.

So, naturally, given the above, being bitten by a spider is MY fault.

Sometimes, over the past decade, I've been able to understand those shooters who go into workplaces and shoot the bosses. I DON'T condone it by any means whatsoever... but after almost ten years of advancing lymphedema, lower legs swollen up to the size of a Hollywood starlet's waist, lots and lots of pain, people looking down their noses at me AND with the news that TPTB deemed my brother's bat-catching worthy of medical care but being bitten by a poisonous spider while typing at my desk isn't... yeah. I can understand.

I guess I SHOULD be thankful. In a conversation that I had with the insurance adjuster, an unpleasant woman named 'Uncaring Insurance Adjustor Bitch', she mentioned that I was not to be compensated because 'even though I was injured ON the job, I was not injured BECAUSE of the job. Flabbergasted, I asked, 'Let's change things around. Let's say that - instead of being bitten by a poisonous spider, I was at my desk, doing my job, and someone came in and shot me. Would you compensate me then?"

Her answer: "No. We wouldn't."

The Law is horrible because of people like her - and Arctic Thigh Sweats, the Arbitrater for the Workman's Comp commission here in Peoria, who made the comment just before my drumhead WC trial "You're offered $10,000. I think it's a good deal, your lawyer thinks it's a good deal - do you think that you know more about it than us?"

Well, considering that I wasn't looking for money (aside for lawyer's fees) but instead wanted my medical bills paid and medical care provided to help me get back to work... yeah. Hey, Jackass and Jerkoff, my (laughs hysterically) 'lawyers', were only in it for the money, too - and then, threw the case last January.

A former friend phrased it perfectly: 'The Law, under normal circumstances, is not designed to serve the people who abide by it."

Oh, yeah. Commander McBragg - the Director? Annoying and morally unclean on two counts:

(a.) In the thirteen months between the injury and my leaving, he never even once asked 'How are you? Are you okay?'

(b.) A little over a year before I was hurt, he did an interview on the TV show I produced for his company, and he talked about his time in the Marine Corps. He mentioned about not being treated well, and how he promised himself that, someday, if he were in thesame position, he wouldn't treat his people the same way he was treated.

You know, lie to other people if you have to. If you must. If you feel that you can get away with it.

However... please don't lie to yourself. I mean, if you take a blood oath (which is what he did, in his own phrasing) and then go back on it... just because you don't like someone. That's when they lose respect for you. I mean, look - I'm a dick. I freely admit that - but I honor my word. (That's left me high and dry on a couple of occasions, but your word is your word.) If you don't want to go back on your word, then don't give it - but if you do, you can't take it back 'because I don't like you as a person!' Watch The American President, and check out President Shepard's speech on defending free speech. America isn't a great country because - how did Kennedy say it? - we do things not because they are easy, but because they are hard. It's not easy to help someone who you don't like, and yet you know it's the right thing to do. Hey - I'll think you're crazy in some instances... but I'll respect you as a person - and when you're in the soup, I'll be there for you.

Do I even have to being up the issue of a Marine that doesn't keep his word? Do I really need to even go there?

And, returning back to Earth orbit of this post, my brother's back home. He's doing better; he's able to eat not, and he's managing the pain better, as well.


As for me... somehow, there's still a part of me that thinks that things will someday get better.

Of course, the rest of me looks at that other part and bluntly informs it that a belief such as that - or Anne Frank's belief that people really are good at heart - are in fact certain indicators of a spiritual immaturity that the perpetual bitch-slapping seminiar that we call Real Life will rectify in due course.

I really need a piece of sweet potato pie right about now... or maybe some steak fries...

Peanut butter sandwiches and beer. My idea of comfort food for dudes since college. That's what I could use, right about now.

A blow job wouldn't hurt, either. After the sandwiches and beer, though. One must maintain a healthy sense of priorities.

End of rant.


P.S. - Went back and changed the names of the guilty, at the advice of someone smarter than me. Allowed me to add a touch more snark to the post. Thanks, old boy.

I hate the really weird dreams...

I really do. Woke up at just before six this morning, because I'd ridden out a TRULY weird one; I'd dreamed that I'd just watched the sequel to the 1984 cult classic Red Dawn, entitled Red Twilight. (Yes, I know that there's no such thing. It was a dream, remember?) In this one, the Spetznaz officer dispatched to Calumet, Colorado to ferret out the Wolverines had not died after being shot be Patrick Swayze's character, but survived to be a true pain in the ass to not only the people of the area, but to the sympathizers and collarborators within the Red Army and assisting forces' ranks, as well.

There was a sequence in the film (dream) where a Russian general was sympathetic to the resistance; the Hunter (that's how he referred to himself in the first film) laid a vicious trap for him and his friends that - man, I didn't know you could shoot so many people so many ways... remarkably, the General and his aide were still alive (even more amazing, the aide was only slightly wounded). In order to keep the General from being tortured and forced to give up information, the aide followed the General's orders and shot him just as the Hunter got to him; he then turned the gun on himself, but found that he'd used the last round on the General. The Hunter was pissed like you wouldn't believe; he shot up the General's body, then turned to the aide and said, "But you won't die anywhere near as easily..."

The way he said it made me almost lose control of my bladder functions. This guy was 'Anthony-class' scary - Perkins in Psycho, or Hopkins in The Silence of the Lambs... you take your pick.

The next scene opened with the aide being forced to run his left arm through this wall-mounted device that was a combination of grinding wheels that crushed down on and stung the victim's arm. The aide (poor man) had on his face a look of someone who only wants to be allowed to die, so the pain and humiliation will finally be over, as the Hunter stood next to him and - simply by speaking to him - forced him to run his arm through the evil device over, and over, and over. Did I forget to mention that, about fifteen seconds into that scene, the titles on-screen read 'Five months later...?'

The way the Hunter carried himself through the scene was in a manner similar to the way Hopkins talked to Jodie Foster... if he wanted, he could have had her do anything he wanted to - or with - her. It was scary to watch, on a level of psychological horror delving into depths beyond the failed propaganda of the first film and into a more mature level of terror akin to Laurence Olivier's performance in Marathon Man. I mean, this guy was playing the role with a calmness and an absolute certainty in that what he was doing was so right for his cause - and the way he inspired others into that, as well - that anything could be done to anyone... as long as it advanced the State's goals.

The scene continued; he finally left the room, but not before telling the guy that no matter what happened, no matter who came in the room, that he had better not take his arm out of the machine - let alone try to escape - until he returned. The Hunter exits, leaving a pair of guards outside the door, and about five minutes or so later - the aide hears the sound of gunfire! He looks outside to see ragged American youth - obviously, teens inspired by the 'Wolverines' - cutting down Soviet soldiers and guards; less than a minute later, he ducks as bullets tear through the wall and the death screams of the guards are heard, and several of the American resistance fighters come into the room! Almost pitiful in his state, tears of relief flow down the aide's face as the resistance fighters quickly get him out of the machine and take him to the door... where the Hunter is waiting, in the outer office, with the other 'resistance members'.

It was all a giant mindfuck. Killing all of those soldiers and guards, the whole thing - just to mess with his mind. They're all young Americans, yes, but so mindblanked and indoctrinated that they're totally into the Hunter's plans... and just to show how into it they are, the Hunter brings an especially pretty little brunette forward who extends her hand, and as the aide watches, the Hunter takes a pair of garden shears and snips off her ring finger, so it will appear that she's been 'tortured' and will be willingly accepted by the true resistance forces. The Hunter, tells him, 'I asked you not to leave that room, didn't I..." He walks away, and the 'resistance fighters' literally tear the man apart with their bare hands, his screams of horror filling the area.

Man. Why can't I have dreams with happier things? Being able to fly... diving into a perfectly blue lage and swimming about, diving deep within and just enjoying myself... blow jobs by a couple of young women who are experts in the procedure? They say that dreams are a reflection of your deepest desires and thoughts... well, what the hell does this say about me?

Besides the fact that I wish that Red Dawn had been a far better film, of course...

A gratuitous shout-out to 'Heroes' - the Season Two opener

Sylar - and lots of beach bunnies.What more can you ask for?

Proof that I can be a sick bastard, Exhibit A

So, I'm watching Alvin and the Chipmunks (proof in and of itself that I'm a sick bastard) and we come to the scene where the boys sing their song Witch Doctor. I'm looking at the boys sing, I'm checking out the serious female action in the crowd (cue flashback to the 1980's and the song Money For Nothing), and something I remember that Marilyn Manson said on Politically Incorrect during the whole 'Oh, no! The President got a blow job!' fiasco flashed into my mind...

"Blow jobs are like autographs and handshakes - when you're a celebrity, it's part of the job."

He did, of course, mean 'recieving'. However, there IS an interesting story that was going around in the 1980's about a certain all-girl band and their shenanigans with a DJ in the booth one night when they stopped in to promote their latest album... there's also a story about a certain attractive, auburn-haired former CBS reporter who now works for CNBC, and how she was caught by another former CBS reporter (who apparently doesn't think Paris Hilton - another fond and skilled advocate of the practice - worthy of being reported on) when the former and her boss slipped into the latter's office for a quick examination of her oral persuasion abilities when the latter (who was supposed to be on vacation) popped into her office and got a big surprise. What I don't understand is why a three-way didn't ensue - I mean, they're both babes, and hey - unless you're a scientist working with alien DNA, 'experimentation' is a good thing...

Ah, if only like was like Cinemax Late Night - and if your life is anything of that sort (a.) enjoy it immensely while it lasts, (b.) for the love of God, don't tell anybody! They'll spoil it for you, accidentally or on purpose, (c.) use protection, and (d.) as Dennis Miller wisely put it, send me a broadcast-quality copy of the raw footage of your better romps on DVD!

Back on track. Chipmunk sex on the road while on tour. Gives the movie Almost Famous an entirely new spin, doesn't it?

Thoughts from the doctor's office

Well, it's been a slow week. If anyone has any ideas on how I can generate a few hundred thousand dollars, let me know. I'd like to have that kind of money so I can travel for a couple of years and just travel about, seeing things and having a little pleasant life-experience.

No, I am not planning on visiting the Bunny Ranch. Not that there's anything wrong with that at all. I'd just like to get into a vehicle, pack in a few things (a few changes of clothes, my laptop, a solar battery, my shotgun, a pistol, my sleeping bag, a decent radio with a NOAA weather setting, a couple of blankets and a few personal items) and just drive off. Oh, and a cell phone with a little battery-powered reserve power cell. Turned off, of course, but there if I want to contact someone. There's 'getting away from it all' and then, there's stupid.



Anyway, today I took Miss Cobra (long story on that name; it goes back to the mid-1970's and how everyone and his brother had a CB 'handle'. Bore you with that some other time.) to the doctor's office today; she had an appointment. Always glad to help Miss Cobra out; she's a family friend for as far back as I can remember, and one of the few reasons I wouldn't immolate this city, were I to have the chance.

Why am I bringing this up? Well, while sitting there and reading a Tom Clancy doorstop of a novel (thanks for that phrase, CINCGREEN!), I was slightly bored by the low level of conversation and cute girls in the area, and I drifted off...

Dream snippet time. I dreamed that I was back at the old house that I grew up in. (P.S. my old address growing up? 1313. That's a conversation starter, folks.) I'n walking down the hall of the second floor towards my parents room, when I hear a female voice coming out of the linen closet; as I get up close, I notice that it's Traylor Howard (the actress from Monk, on the USA Network) and she's on the phone with someone. She smiles at me, I nod and start to pass by when she holds hout her hand to me, I take it, and as she continues on with that conversation, a very interesting session of 'handsie' begins to ensue...




I tell you, I had no idea that holding hands could be so... arousing. Nothing more, nothing less, and I have no idea why I would have a dream about that actress. I mean, I certainly didn't miss an episode of Boston Common in its first season, back in 1995 on NBC; she was cute as a button, and I must admit I like that look...



As usual, this is the portion of the regularly-scheduled program in which I drop off the grid and start talking about things that I really have no real understanding of.

You guessed it in one. Women.

Why is it that a hell of a lot of guys (and a hell of a lot of the scandal sheets, internet sites, magazines, TV shows, etc. that the collective stream o'lemmings gravitates to as if by instinct) have this idea that once a woman hits a seemingly predetermined age, she's no longer attractive or sexually desirable (or more to the point, shouldn't present herself in this fashion) - and mre to the point, why to a hell of a lot of women buy into this crapshoot? Case in point - Miss Traylor. Hey - I like the pixie look. I like the fact that she's not 'a classic Hollywood beauty'. I like it that (as a friend would always say) 'that she's a cutie'? I certainly love the fact that she's actually having a real meal - a burger, some sort of salad and a slice of watermelon. (Although I REALLY... cannot... stand... watermelon. However, that's another story for another day.) I like the fact that she doesn't have breasts with the mass to possibly retain their own gravity and magnetic fields and atmosphere. I understand that some science schmuck mentioned long ago that there's a genetic thing about men being attracted to big breasts. I have no problem with that. I especially have no problem with when I think of the former CNBC anchor Liz Claman; during 2006 and 2007, I was able to gain some small idea of what a friend who was into economics and the finance sector said on occasion by watching Morning Call religiously. Of course, redheads are always a big draw for me, anyway...

Back on track. Back when I was a freshman in high school, I had an afterschool job cleaning rooms at my school. (Actual work for a kid. Not a bad idea.) The guy who I worked with was a Navy vet named Ken, and he would tell me stories and give me advice (like older guys should give the younger ones. It's because of him that I've always wanted to visit Australia). One of the things that he said that I've always remembered was about breasts: 'If it's more than a mouthful, it's a waste.' Sage advice.

I mention this because - in our twisted society - we have this perverse fascination with large breasts that (pardon the pun) cuts both ways; it's as if we want woman to have large breasts and act as if small-breasted women are somehow... deficent - and yet, we objectify large-breasted women at the cost of their intellectual capacity. Worse, regardless of bust size, once women reach that 'predetermined (and yet unspoken) age'... they're supposed to delete any overt sexuality that they may project and... what? disappear off the landscape in favor of the 'younger, hotter models'?

I'm surprised more women don't go temporarily insane... or, considering the mass numbers of women who submit to the myriad of options that cosmetic surgery affords (or at least consider seriously enough that they actively research their options), perhaps they are. Now, I'm not saying that cosmetic surgery is wrong, or that having large breasts is wrong. If you're a guy and that's what you prefer, knock yourself out and go for it - but please, remember (as Amy from About A Girl told her roommates) that there's usually a person attached to those breasts. If you're a woman, large- or small-breasted, please stop buying into the fallacy that somehow, on any level, your worth to men is directionally proportional to your bust size, your intellectual capacity is directly inverse to said bust size and that somehow, your own self-worth is in any way connected at all to that!

Of course, women are saying right about now, "Well, what the hell do YOU know about it? You're not in our shoes, you have no idea how it feels to have men staring at your chest as if you're some side-show freak because you have a bustline that stretches out sweaters, or they look at you and say, 'if you didn't have long hair, I wouldn't be able to tell that you were a girl!" You're right. I don't know - and I can't understand.

However, as I told a young woman long ago: "You're right. I don't know anything about you. All I know about you is what you let me see." Self-worth begins with you, people. If you're proud of who you are - as a whole - then that one part of your anatomy won't matter to you and the people whose opinions matter to you...and it certainly won't matter to the person who shares their life and their love with you. They care for you, and your body is a bonus. That being said, if you're happy with who you are and you simply want to do something to improve uupon yourself... then cosmetic surgery is a viable option. Why? Because now, it's simply you wanting to give yourself a new look so as to present yourself in what you feel is an even better manner - not you trying to gain confirmation of your own inner worth from others through changing your exterior. There is a difference.

Oh, yeah. If anyone out there knows where I can get a hold of one of those old-school exercise bikes - you know, the metal ones with the upward-curving handlebars and the nice, sturdy foot pedals, and at a reasonable price - let me know. We can all use a change of the exterior, and back in college, I really liked going over to the Student Rec Center every day and riding five miles or so on the bikes.