Poll

OK kids. Here's another B A Start poll!

My old NES is no worky-worky, and I want to do something horribly nerdy with the case. But what? Best I can come up with is a drink-holder, but I'm sure we can do better.

Smartmouth

Started another blog project, a smallish parody of our beloved Elmwood community:

http://buffalodropping.blogspot.com/

Titmouse

Today I engaged in a conversation about old computers, and the Wang came up.

"You think that's bad? I used have to use the Wang. We'd have to go the Wang room. 'Hey, you done in there? I really need the Wang!'"

How the hell am I supposed to keep a straight face? Huh? How?

I'm right, you know.

Just to set things straight one and for all. All things being equal, a vampire could beat a werewolf in a fight with little issue. Vampires can turn into bats, mist, wolves, and who knows what else. They can climb walls and move fast. Werewolves can only turn into wolves. If you go in for this business of werewolves turning into giant jacked-up bipedal killing machines with opposable thumbs, you've fallen prey to the hype. Werewolves turn into wolves and that's it, and only at the full moon.

Vampires could also beat unicorns. Anyone with a decent weapon could beat a unicorn -- that horn is for ornamental purposes only. About the only thing unicorns are good for is appearing to virgins.

A werewolf, on the other hand, might have some trouble besting a unicorn. (Thanks to Sarah for the link. She knows me all too well.) Pit a wolf against a horse sometime -- it would be roughly similar to that.

Doing my part

Today I overheard a coworker saying she bought her age-11 son an electric blue Nintendo DS for his birthday, and that he has many systems already. Being the community-minded citizen I am, I strolled over to her desk to strike up a conversation on the topic. After a few lead-in remarks, I asked if she was familiar with the ESRB rating system, and if she checked the ratings before buying games for her kid. She told me she usually made her judgement on the appropriateness of the title based on the picture on the box front.

Not ten minutes later she had full knowledge of the ESRB's rating system, provided by yours truly. My good deed for the day is done -- my coworker is protected; now armed with good information upon which to base purchasing decisions, as opposed to marketing information or her kid's opinion. The child is protected, and will not be exposed to any non-parent-approved content. And most importantly, the game company is protected. No Grand Theft Auto for that kid, and thus no litigation, keeping our game prices low. It is my sincere hope that she tells all her friends about the ESRB, spreading the good word that they don't have to guess anymore.

Videogame companies often cite the ESRB ratings when faced with accusations of creating mindless, violence-hungry zombies out of America's future generations, as well they should. The information is there for the asking, right on the front and back of every box. Clearly the overarching issues is that parents and loved ones just aren't aware.

I would urge all B A Starters to make an effort to distribute information about the ESRB to parents. It's a valuable tool in the effort to regulate America's childrens' exposure to inappropriate media, a great service to our society. Videogames have cost fifty bucks a pop for a long time now, and mainstream society's steady drive towards class action suits against game developers and distributors must be stopped if we want to keep it that way.

For the sake of our wallets, we must act. Talk to your friends to see what their awareness level is. Hold an ESRB awareness drive in your hometown. Get a float in a local parade. Hand out flyers in front of Target and Walmart (with permission, of course). I have set up a cafepress site, where you can purchase a "Save Our Games" bumper sticker -- show your support! It's up to us to make this work.

Relaxing which is good, bears good centralization

Sorry kids. Haven't had much to say recently, so I'll just send you on your merry way to this site, one of the aforementioned Japanese sites which have crossed my path recently. If my workstation looked like that... well, let's just say it would be awesome. I ran the site through Google's translator, and this is what I got:

"It relaxed supports the computer job of long time with the new work position where the up-to-date work station which Actualizes the ideal attitude which is based on body engineering research the professional model appearance"

See? Awesome.

What beautiful music they make

Dude. This story, while a bummer because this lady got conned, is hilarious. I ask the following questions:

How can vampires impregnate you with the anti-Christ? And how would pills prevent that?

How do you come up with a scheme like this? I mean, I get extortion. I get extorting someone by saying you're a vampire and will drink their blood if you don't get the moolah. I just don't get the aborted demon thing.

What if they really were vampires?

I mean, the title alone...

You may have heard a bit about the 'Hot Coffee' scandal surrounding Grand Theft Auto: San Andreas. Here's a quick summary -- there's a hidden mode in the game (which one must do some hacking to get to) in which your character has sex and the ESRB has pulled the game to replace it's Mature (17+) rating with an Adults Only rating. Stores are pulling it, and NY senator Hillary Clinton called for a Federal Trade Commission investigation.

I agree that if any medium has X-rated content, it should be for adults only. The fact that the mode is not accessible by people without proper tools makes this whole issue a little gray.

Here's an abbreviated list of things I have done in Grand Theft Auto 3 which are worse than having consensual sex:

• Exceeded the speed limit.
• Ran a stoplight.
• Escaped from a prison transfer vehicle.
• Driven a prostitute to a job.
• Stolen a car.
• Stolen a police car.
• Jacked a car.
• Jacked a police car.
• Jacked an ambulance.
• Jacked a firetruck.
• Jacked an FBI vehicle.
• Jacked a tank.
• Jacked an ice cream truck.
• Engaged in a street race.
• Engaged in a high-speed chase.
• Disposed of a vehicle used for a crime
• Disposed of a vehicle with a dead body in it.
• Located 100 stashes of drugs and exchanged them for weapons.
• Assisted in a bank robbery.
• Assisted in several murders.
• Planned and executed several assassinations.
• Solicited a prostitute, and killed her to get my money back.
• Started a gang war in order to decrease property values.
• Engaged in a drive-by shooting.
• Engaged in a random drive-by shooting.
• Killed police officers, FBI agents, and military personnel who were firing upon me.
• Killed police officers who were not firing upon me.
• Killed non-gang-affiliated civilians in order to attract the attention of law enforcement.
• Killed the emergency personnel who arrived to care for these civilians.
• Killed wantonly and without cause using a large variety of weapons, including but limited to my bare hands, a baseball bat, various guns, various incendiary devices, a flame-thrower, and a tank.
  

Apparently 17-year-olds hacking a program and simulating sex is more deserving of government attention than them simulating any of the acts on the above list.

coldcode

If any of you had any interest in this post, be sure to swing by this site, the Coldplay X&Y Album Art Generator.

This one might drop

Picked up Tiger Woods 2004 this weekend, which has unsurprisingly dominated my life since. Gameplay is pretty much the same as the '03 version, but a big addition was made with character customization. There's the EA Sports Game Face, which ought to be called EA Sports Try To Make Something Look Like You, Get Frustrated And Give Up Face, and a veritable stripmall's-worth of clothes. Now, the clothes serve a purpose in making money via sponsorships, but we all know they're so you can play dress-up. This brings up the age-old issue of the digital avatar. When faced with the requirement to make a character for yourself, what do you do? Make him look like you? Similar to you but cooler? Something funny? Something completely different?

No matter what you do, it's going to be embarrassing, especially when your wife catches you shopping for digital golf duds. You know what she's thinking when that happens? "How is this more interesting than hanging out with me? You'd think he could find the time to... ooh! The salmon one with the stripes! Make me! Make me!"

.co.jp

For someone who doesn't speak it, I've been to an unusually high number of Japanese websites recently.

There's something captivating about a site written in a non-indoeuropean language. I know we all learned in Psych 101 that linguistic differences do not mean a difference in perception -- you know, the fifteen-words-for-snow business -- but I don't buy it. For some time now, I've been under the impression that if I were to learn an Asian language, previously untapped mind potentials would be unlocked and I would transcend wisdom.

For now, I'll stick to reading up on Electroplankton.

Get some R&R?

Today I walked into the restroom to see a coworker standing at a urinal with a Blackberry in one hand and (presumably) his wang in the other. Dude, seriously. Pull yourself together.

Old business

To those of you starved for more content, I apologize. I have now linked to Goose's blog and to The Trials, one o' them moblogs. Enjoy, fellow web wackos.

He'll save every one of us.

I'm not sure which is scarier: this dude's extensive collection of links to flash games or how many of them I had seen before. This is my favorite so far.

You heard it here second

People have been telling me that the Buffalo Airport was closed this morning due to a weird package, and that this package contained Star Wars memorabilia. I'd like to go on the record as stating that it wasn't me.

You know you want to see 'em.

You want to know what an awesome wedding looks like? Click here.

Now, we all know I'm one sour-pussed bastard, but this event warmed even my icy heart, and I am honored and grateful to have been a part of it. This slideshow displays the pictures from my camera which came out best -- both the camera and my scanner are weak, so imagine them all a little better than they are. They show the seamy underbelly of the wedding, the iniquitous domain of college friends and other rapscallions. Oh, and I saw the note-passing, you sly dog.

But sweet for certain

I think I'm finally getting the swing of being in wedding parties. I leave this post as a reminder to my future groomsman selves.

#1 - You don't need to get completely waffled at the rehearsal dinner. Stop doing this.
#2 - One extra handkerchief just isn't enough; consider bringing one for each groomsman. Once the sweating starts, they'll be a commodity.
#3 - Bring food, and lots of it. When people say "the limo is stocked" they don't mean with cookies.
#4 - No red wine, unless you want to be "that purple-stained tux guy".

The opposite of people

Garv posted something that all you would-be writers should check out: the DFILM moviemaker. "In 1999, DFILM launched the MovieMaker, which let users create a short animated cartoon on a website and email it to their friends." From a writer's standpoint, it is extremely limiting, and that's what makes it so intriguing. With a limit of three scenes of four different types, two characters and max six 100-character lines of dialogue per scene, how much story can you get across? The limitations force you to get to the bare bones of your story and work with the absolute basics of theater. As an example, here's Hamlet in three scenes. Not high drama, but a good exercise in composition. Also, the art is all pretty funny.

Raisin Bran and salami

For those of you (by which I mean all of you) B A Starters who don't really do the whole "go to the doctor" thing, take a look at this site. Also known as "stuff to freak out about". This site has got to be at least as dependable as asking med student friends for their medical advice over a beer and a smoke.

See? I care about you and your well-being.

Sing sing sing

In God of War, half the game is getting through a series of trials to prove yourself worthy of receiving the ultimate weapon. From time to time, as you do the impossible again and again, you come across recently deceased warriors who got to a specific point and didn't hit the right switch in time to avoid being skewered (or whatever). How do the gods react to this?



Zeus: Looks like we've got a contender! He made it past the minotaur, figured out the underwater puzzle, survived the spinny blade thing...

Athena: I hope this is the guy. I'm getting tired of putting that rock back on the shoulders of the Atlas statue and rebuilding the stained glass window for every schmuck that makes it past the "endless" desert.

Zeus: Oh, this is the winner. I mean, look at him! You'd think I was his father! As a matter of fact, does he look a little like a swan to you?

Athena: Damn it! He didn't catch that second rope! I told you they were too far apart!

Zeus: Only the one who proves himself worthy can wield...

Athena: Oh, come on! Did you see how fast he figured out the move-the-rocks puzzle? This was the guy, but no... the rope swing has to be at least the length of the mighty Zeus's pinky toe! Only those who can swing the length of the Sky Father's pinky toe deserve the blessing of the gods!

Zeus: Watch it, Athy...

Athena: Or you're going to do what? Chain me to a rock and have a gecko nibble my appendix out for eternity? Who's going to help you outwit that shrewish wife of yours while I'm being punished? Huh? Who? You going to have Hephaestos build a Robo-Zeus to sit in the throne while you're chasing the mortal skirts? Think you can distract Apollo from harassing nymphs long enough to help you? Huh? Do ya?

Zeus: I'll take your owl away.

Athena: Sure you will, tough guy. Sure you will. I'm going to go see if anyone sacrificed anything worth eating. Let me know if anyone passes your test -- I'll be holding my breath.

Daily Show Host Rumored Dead

From the B A Start News Desk -- An area man displayed signs of shock and awe last night upon hearing that Jon Stewart, host of the popular parody news program The Daily Show, was dead. The events transpired at a downtown bar and restaurant at the back table. A local businessman told a joke about movie star Tom Cruise in a P-51 Mustang, a World-War-II-era fighter plane, shooting at cinema legend Jimmy Stewart, and then corrected himself when he was reminded that Stewart is no longer living. Parts of this tall tale was overheard by a friend, who expressed extreme concern and surprise at the death of Jon Stewart. Once the misunderstanding was resolved, drinking continued unabated.

Arf!

When the rest of the world is fixated on actual major, important, and awesome events in real life, you can count on B A Start to bring you back down to fantasy.

Saw a few mentions in a magazine about Okami, an upcoming PS2 title. I'm a sucker for any videogame where the visual style is new, and with its whole looks-like-a-silkscreen-painting thing, this game certainly meets that criteria. No idea how running around as a wolf will work out, but I'll let you know.

Now, you could go to the usual suspects for screenshots, movies, et cetera, but why would you when you can go right to the developer's website? Sure it's in Japanese -- that just makes it cooler!

Zap

Not four hours after Sarah points out this story to me, I run across this one. There's only one logical explanation: The Playstation 2 attracts lightning bolts.

Canadian?

Oh man are you guys lucky. You were this close to getting an eyeful of my opinions on last night's premiere of the ABC mini-series Empire, replete with ill-founded statements along the lines of "Octavius wasn't a good-guy" and "but he just killed Pompey" and smattered with my standard list of likes/dislikes. I'll sum it up for you: I liked it, the departures from the history are well-handled and more than understandable, and if Caesar had the people's best interests in mind then I'm Jay-Z.

Fortunately for you, I saw this before I started typing and the following rant ensues: $400 for a Playstation 3? Forget it. We all know I'm mad cheap when it comes to videogames. I don't need a damn media center -- call me crazy, but I buy videogame consoles to play videogames. I don't need online play; I play videogames to get away from jackasses. Why would I add jackassery to my gaming by going online? Yeah, sure the graphics will be great, but just how damn realistic do we want games to be? So, you're going to make assloads of titles about zombies, magic ninjas, aliens and whatnot and tell me how realistic the games are? And I do mean assloads -- several iterations of the number of games an ass can carry. Maybe if I played Madden I'd give a couple shits about how well-rendered the chest-hair of that fat dude with a ramhead painted on his beergut is, but I don't so I don't.

Codeplay

Stories all o'er the nets* telling us that the code on cover of X&Y has been cracked, that it's based on an old telegraph code. What they don't say often is that the key was included in the liner notes. I say the following:

#1: To Coldplay's label: Weak. Let the geeks go all geek on it. Let the legend grow, all mysterious-like. Better press that way.
#2: To the news sites: More weak. That's not news, that's a cryptoquip.
#3: To Coldplay:

*The best story I've seen on it is here, if you're that bored.

I hate that turn.

How do you know when you play videogames too much?

I have never watched a NASCAR race. Today I went to a family member's house for dinner and NASCAR was being watched. As I sat to partake, the cars sped around a turn that looked all too familiar. "Hey, I've raced this track. Infineon Raceway, right?" Odd looks, I tell you. My love affair with GT4 strikes again.

Finished Ico

Yorda! Yorda? Yorda?!?! YORDAAAAAAAAAA!

Yorda?

Very much

Do you miss my GT4 pics? I set up a Flickr slideshow for 'em. Your life is now fulfilled.

Sign of the times

At a social event last night, I ended up in a conversation about music. This is usually a good tack when at a party and you don't know many people -- there's always that guy who likes music. We did not, as one might expect, go through the normal ritual of do-you-know-this-band, did-you-hear-that-album kind of stuff. Instead we talked about mp3 players, subscription services, and XM radio. Conclusion: for this brief period of entertainment history, how we get our music is more interesting than what we listen to.

Even more boring than regular baseball.

Okay. So, the first two innings of a minor league baseball game will be played on the Xbox, and the other seven will be played by the real teams. Local fanboys have been competing at CompUSA (where else?) to be holding the controllers for those first two innings.

#1 - This is lame.

#2 - Here's my favorite part of the story: "The idea for the promotion came from the 6-year-old niece of Bryan Williams, director of community relations for the T-Bones."

How did this go?

"Unkoo Bwyan! You pway game!"

"What's that, honeybunch?"

"You pway game on TV!"

"Yes, that's right. I play games on the TV. Videogames. That's why my brother got to marry your mommy and I still live with mine."

"You pway game wif men outside!"

"Uh huh, I play baseball in real life too. Well, sometimes the guys let me go get the foul balls for them."

"You pway boaf!"

"Yes, honey, I play both."

"You pway boaf! You pway boaf!"

"Wait a minute -- that's a great idea! We can play videogames AND real baseball at the same time! You're a genius Rita-Mae!"

Take the elevator.

I've been playing Ico, a fantastically good art-piece title for the PS2. It's just as good as Penny Arcade promises. Yesterday, a friend lent me God of War to try on for size. While I have heard that this also is rather awesome and will get to it eventually, I'm not really in the mood to rip the wings off sirens right now. Apparently, I'm more in the mood to be a twelve-year-old oddly-horned boy and wander around an enchanted castle holding the hand of a quiet ghost princess. Weird.

Support your local flash developer.

Need another web game to get addicted to? Swing over here and play Poom!. Brought to you by the UB College Store, apparently.

Just look at the way I decorate my house.

Memed again. I don't know if I ever did the last one.

Number of books I've owned: Holy Heaven. Okay, I'll try to estimate. Let's say...

Fifty kids books. (Pokey Little Puppy, etc)
Twenty Hardy Boys.
Twenty Oz.
Twenty books bought in high school.
Thirty super-cheap "classics"

Fifteen books a semester for four years of college = 120
Twenty books in the last three years.

I'm going to go ahead and say roughly 300.


Last book I bought: I just bought a book today called The Mathematical Experience. The hospital I work at has an occasional used book sale fundraiser, and I saw it there. No idea if its any good or not.

Last book I read: The Code Book. History of crypto.


Five books that mean a lot to me:

Gates of Fire. 100% brilliant. Whenever anyone asks me for a book to read, this is what I tell them. I have two copies, and one of them has seen a lot of loaning action.

Dune. Science-fiction's supreme masterpiece. One of the few perfect books ever written. Could have been titled How to Become a God in Three Easy Steps.

Brewer's Dictionary of Phrase and Fable. I do not own a copy of this book, but you can always count on Bartleby. Remarkable collection of entries on a wide variety of topics in story and history.

The Hero with A Thousand Faces. Perhaps not surprising considering my previous post.

D'aulaires Book of Greek Myths. I received two different copies of this for my seventh birthday, and I credit it directly with starting off the series of events that made me what I am today.

I'll leave this open-ended. You got a blog and you want to write about this? Go for it.

Roll credits

My issues with Episodes I and II of Star Wars are well-documented, and anyone who knows me will be happy to tell you that they tried to convince me that they were due to some fault of my own, that I went in to the movies with my standards held too high. Time and again I was told to just go and enjoy the movies instead of expecting anything.

As one should with trusted friends, I took their advice with Episode III, and enjoyed it far more than the others, despite the fact that my issues remained. I forgave the litany of transgressions and sat back to let the Force-filled goodness wash over me.

As the fight on the volcano was about to start, I remembered reading somewhere as a kid -- a young kid, as this was before Jedi came out -- that the events which took place there were the reason Vader was a machine. I realized at that moment that something I had been looking forward to since childhood was about to transpire. As I was already pleased with my experience, I was in a good mindset to see a scene that even my critical eye would see as canon. I had already seen the worst of how far these movies could get from "good" so what could go wrong?

"Either you are with me, or you are my enemy."
"Only Sith speak in absolutes."

So, as the killing stroke, Lucas decided to throw in politics. Up until then, my issues with departures from my concept of the original vision were based exclusively in the world he created. My own politics aside, the fact he would use his movies as a soapbox to discuss current events is a slap in the face to someone who took his opus as a stand-alone. He went into this with the concept that if Campbell's hero-journey applies to all people at all times in all lands, then a new story with flashy effects could take the lessons of those old stories and bring them to a wider audience. He ended by attacking the statements of one man in present-day America.

As it turns out, my friends were right; I did take these movies far more seriously than anyone should have. I bought into the concepts of the original trilogy, and should have abandoned them when seeing the latest.

Your stories are in another castle.

I don't own the 'Cube or the DS, but I keep going back to this site. I think it's because I really like the banner.

In other Nintendo-related news, Link is story of the day on Wikipedia. Surpisingly extensive. I'd have a hard time saying much more about Link than "well, he's got a shield and a sword and dresses like Robin Hood. And he's a pretty good choice in Smash Bros."

It has come to this

Dear Hot Topic -

While I have appreciated your efforts to provide videogame-related clothing to the consumer, you appear to have just slightly missed my particular niche. I am in the market for a style which can best be described as "subversive." I want clothes which advertise the fact that I intensely geeky to those in the know, but appear fairly normal to the rest of society.

Allow me to give an example. I saw in your establishment a T-shirt which read "Halo 2", and another which had the shield/swords/alien skull symbol for the Legendary difficulty setting from Halo and read "Legendary" in small type underneath. The latter of these is getting closer to what I'm talking about. Blatantly stating "I play and enjoy Halo 2" is not as cool. Are you with me?

Here is what I would like to see from you: a series of unassuming polo shirts with corporate logos embroidered on the right breast, but the logos are from the evil corporations from various videogames. For starters, whip a few for Shinra Incorporated, Datadyne, and the Umbrella Corporation.

You see, the market is now flooded with people for whom videogames have been a part of their entire lives, people like myself who are getting a bit old to be dressing like teenagers. Pac-man himself turns 25 this month, a sobering fact. Please keep us in mind in the future. After all, we don't have to ask our parents for money.

Let me count the ways

Ben. While the ode has become something of a lost art in this era of perpetual rants, in which we have decided to no longer define ourselves by what we like but rather by what we can find fault with, like teenagers who think that disliking everything makes ne sophisticated, I offer this meager post to you and your 100.

You brought us the small orange bottle full of insect-repellent liquid, the only fluid that has ever successfully kept insects from sucking my blood and feeding it to their parasitic young. Brewed with care in my homeland of New Hampshire, I can find no fault with Ben's 100. The very sight of your product brings to mind of painless and swat-free summer nights, and for those I thank you.

I have heard the reverent legends that state your elixir was discovered by accident as you tried to make a solvent for rubber, and I say "good show". I have seen the rubber-melting abilities of your wonderful creation, having used it to improve the seal on bottles of fuel with success.

Your detractors ignore the tremendous debt society has towards you. They say it is a violation of Federal law to use your life's great work in a manner inconsistent with its labelling. They say it is a hazard to humans and domestic animals. They tell us not to apply it to the hands of young children, and that they should not be allowed to handle your product at all. With one breath they say it can cause substantial eye injury, and in the next that the alleged injury is temporary. They tell to never place unused Ben's 100 down any indoor or outdoor drain, as if anyone would throw this boon to humanity away!

To those who would say such things, I offer this warning: change your ways. See Ben's 100 for the man-made miracle it is, and put aside your petty claims that it should be stored in a "cool, dry (preferably locked) storage area inaccessible to children and pets", that one should call his local solid waste agency for disposal instructions. There is still time for you to cease your slander and offer Ben the praise he deserves.

OBX?

Things I have done in the past few days which I have never done before (summarized):

Gone to the Outer Banks in North Carolina.

Stopped at Roanoke Island, site of the lost colony, Virginia Dare, and all that. It had been on my list of places to see, and I had no idea it was on the way -- added bonus.

Ate mahi mahi, which is apparently not dolphin meat. At least that's what they told me.

Had someone ask me how my food tasted. I had heard of this bizarre waitstaff ritual, but never experienced it first hand. It took all the self-control I could muster not to say "like fish, jackass".

Found myself in the possession of one of those oval-shaped white stickers that yuppies put on their cars because they look like the European country-of-origin stickers. I had a feeling this might happen one day.

Had Budweiser Select. Give it a try -- s'good.

Heard that Garv caught a fish. Way to work, dude.

The Famicom alone!

OK. Looks like the recent rumors circulating about the next Nintendo console -- codenamed Revolution -- will have all previous console releases available for free download is not true. Apparently, some old NES, SNES, and N64 games will be made available for purchase through an online service or some such thing.

Considering the retro-gaming mood I've been in recently, I came dangerously close to losing it when I heard the rumors. I mean, every game for every system? Yowza. Just think of all the Mega Man titles I never got to play! I didn't have a Super Nintendo -- who knows what goodness I missed!

Is it wrong that a large percentage of my childhood memories are 8-bit?

City of Dream

Here's another link for you all. Buffalo Rising Journal has joined the ranks of the various blogs, videogame/movie news sites, et alis that make up my list of daily reads. So go check it out.

Poll

The new background: too much?

Beep beep zip bang

Today I offer you this story on Extreme Tech advising the reader on a way to speed things up on the ol' PC. It details the use of the Intel Application Accelerator, a small utility which streamlines the data flow between the storage devices and the processor. Considering the many times I have found myself tearing my hair and gnashing my teeth at all hours of the morning as I tried desperately to undo my own attempts at PC improvement, I was a little nervous to use this thing, but I gave it a go, said a prayer to ward off the Blue Screen, and met with success. If you decide try it, make sure you read the Extreme Tech article and all of the documentation/warnings from Intel first, of course. I have noticed improved speeds on my machine, and nothing's blown up so far.

Swing your arms

Do me a favor and keep your eyes open for this Beck EP. I tried New World Record, and those pretentious, horn-rimmed minors had nuthin'. Now if this were a for-real serious blog, I'd have done all kinds of research about the EP and would be communicating it to you with wit and aplomb. Unfortunately for you, all I have to say is that it's got four songs from Guero remixed using Nintendo music and it's totally rad. Oh, and give you the Rhapsody link. Make sure you listen to the last one -- it's the best of them.

Also on the retrogaming front, go check this out. Some art exhibit in LA featuring pieces based on old games. My favorite's the Qbert one. A few more pics of it here.

Mystical? Maybe.

No posts since Sunday? Good gravy. So just what the heck have I been doing?

Monday: Moving someone in. Playing wiffleball.
Tuesday: Work, looking at a fire.
Wednesday: Work, store, playing Tiger Woods.

Fill any gaps in with "sitting on the porch enjoying the good weather" and that's a pretty accurate picture.

If you haven't already, go over to outgrabes and check out the latest. 100% awesome. You know why it's cool to have an artist in your life? They use you as a model.

What is this?

Her Worshipfulness has a problem. While my addictions tend towards stuff you put in your body, hers relates to things you put on it. Without doing any rummaging, I can bring to mind ten different bottles of goo she applies to her skin and hair on a daily basis. Does one really need a separate lotion used singly for one's elbows?

The woman wears neither makeup nor jewelry, so my concern is not at all for expense, but rather for the inevitable results of my own clumsiness. No sudden movements can be made in our bathroom without serious risk of bottle scatter and explosion.

For example, this morning as I showered I removed my shampoo from the hangy-thing. One might think this not to be a risky venture, but not so. In a Goldbergian series of events, the shampoo turned out to be the primary support for a bottle of "calming" soap which kicked out its bottom to the side, knocking a metal canister of compressed pink shit rapidly out the back of the wire structure, leading to much banging and clanging. As anyone living with a woman will tell you, unexpected noises are usually met with bitching of similar volume. And trust me, if in this situation, don't go for the "you have too many damn bottles" approach. Does. Not. Work.

All growed up

You're not a man until you can wear a lime green polo shirt.

As you feel

Yesterday someone I've worked with since '99 came by my desk for the first time in ages. She remarked a the picture thumbtacked into the bulletin-board wall of my cube, the picture of myself holding a large fish circa summer 2002. Readers who have been around since the classic B A Start era may remember this post, in which I discuss the benefits of having this picture in my office. This time, though, my guest's response took me completely by surprise.

"Wow, look how young you look in that picture."

It's happening.

If there was any doubt

These are really, really good.

Portentous

This morning, as I brought my finished bowl of raisin bran to the sink, the milk swished around to reveal a single missed raisin. Is that an omen? And if so, of what? A potentially missed opportunity? If tea leaves can tell your future, I assume the same holds true for other consumable breakfast liquids in which things float.

Travelogue

Had a conversation about vodka martini's last night. This led me to try to back up the "fact" I heard somewhere that the vodka martini was invented by James Bond (well, technically that the gin-less vodka martini invented by the Smirnoff company after they got into bed with the Bond movie people), which brought me to a site about the various brands of booze Bond has imbibed, which pointed me to this site about just why the Commander wants his martinis shaken as opposed to stirred, which led me to this treasure trove. If you're like me and look at this accessible list of alcohol recommendations as a checklist , you don't have a problem -- you have a solution.

Push 'em.

Now this is some great marketing. Anyone surprised I'm posting about this? What with the name of this blog and everything?

For those of you not pathetically geeky enough to get it, Sony is advertising their upcoming Playstation 3 here with a riff off of their four buttons "Live in your world. Play in ours." campaign. By lopping a few lines off of their well-established set of symbols, they obfuscate them just enough to make even my nerd eye have to look twice before figuring it out. Turn the "e" backwards to get a "3", and you've got one hell of a billboard. Good work, Sony people. Now make a wallpaper with those symbols on it and post it online for me to download. While you're at it, send me some cool swag. You know, something subtle but not so obscure that no one in the world would ever get it. I love you.

The pin is quivering.

I bring you a tale of Tiger Woods. Well, more of an image, really. Some time ago, a college friend came back into town for a few days and swung by the apartment to catch up on some much-needed videogame competition. I introduced him to Tiger Woods PGA Tour for the Xbox, a game which quickly devours the soul of all who play it -- so fun, so addictive. He quickly built a character -- Fish -- and hit the links with vigor. Another friend came by to join in the fun, bringing with him a memory stick with the Alpha and the Omega of TW gameplay: his character, Victor Cracker.

You see, Victor Cracker is to TW what a god is to mortals. When he descends from the realm of the ideal and interferes with the lives of men, he leaves a wake of destruction and lamentation. Tales of the visit last for generations. But, like gold inlaid over silver, Victor Cracker only augments the remarkable skill of his human. The guy's got an unnatural knack for the game, and having a maxed-out character only adds to the point spread.

So, we play a few rounds and Victor Cracker dominates. Everyone is fine, we shake hands and say good night.

The next day, Fish is back. Something is different, though. His hands are as still as stone, and in his eye can be seen a faint gleam. He had come this day to topple Cracker. We call Victor's human avatar and insist he come back for a rematch. At the end of the first round of play, Victor's given name proves to be well-earned.

In the middle of the second and final round, Victor Cracker unsurprisingly makes a magnificent shot, and the commentator responds with a loud "ooooh!". TW has commentators judging your every shot, delivering a large number of phrases such as "should have used the nine-iron here" or "that's straight at it, Billy". The "ooooh" was new, and two of us found it quite funny.

So, the image I present to you is of a lean, hungry man in the zone, possessed by the thought of ending a dynasty, stretched forward and focused on the TV with the steadiness of an eagle diving after its prey, flanked by two grown men who can't stop saying "ooooh! No, no, it was like 'ooooooh!'" and laughing heartily.

Keep your nose clean.

As I was going through the airport security checkpoint on my way back from the conference, a woman with three children was behind me in line. As I took my laptop out of its bag so they could do whatever it is they do to it (can’t x-rays see through laptop bags?), one of these kids, let’s say ten years old, comments on it.

“Nice laptop”.

“Thanks,” I replied, instead of asking how we could tell what model it is just by looking at the top of it or grilling him on whether the IT department’s recommendation to purchase this one was valid since he was clearly an authority on the topic. “It’s work’s. I get to use it, though.”

“Yeah, just like my dad.”

“Look, kid. Just because when I was your age my father was younger than I am now doesn’t mean I should have a ten-year-old running around. Times are different now. Not a single one of my friends has a kid. Not high-school friends, not college friends, nobody! No one has kids before thirty anymore!

"High-school and college educations don’t pack the same punch they used to, so to be at the same level our parents were at, my generation need initials after our names. So, while we’re scrambling to get to the level our parents were at when they were 21 (single income family, homeowner, had a functional car, ate three meals a day, etc), images of little tykes like you linger in the backs of our minds. We wonder if we’re too late. If we don’t have kids soon, the likelihood of having them drops off pretty sharply, and then what will happen when we’re elderly? Who will tend to us in our golden years? Who, you little bastard, who?!?

"I mean, I don't even want to have kids, but if I do, the family unit has been so scattered by high divorce rates, affordable transportation, and easy communication that a family is little more than obligation and guilt. We’re all alone in the world. Nevermind the fact that religion has become the domain of rednecks and none of us believe in an afterlife anymore. What’s the point of any of it? Answer me!”

At this point I realized I was holding the kid several feet off the ground by his lapels and screaming in his face. I put him back on the ground, tousled his hair, and gave him a quarter before walking off to my flight.

Misplaced apostrophes do that.

You'll note I added a link to Lisa's blog, it's a marshmallow world. So go check it out.

When I wrote that sentence, I typoed "Lisa's" into Lis'a, making it look as if I had linked to a blog written by a member of an interstellar army bent on the destruction of Earth and all of its inhabitants. "Followers of Lis'a, attack!"

Slow Fade

A few brief anecdotes about my trip.

#1 - When eating in the outdoor mall a few blocks from the hotel, I couldn't help but notice the heaters near the tables. It was at least seventy degrees out. On an unrelated note, the teriyaki chicken was indeed yummy yummy yummy as advertised by what I can only describe as one of the fast-food barkers in the food court.

#2 - There were ten US flags visible from my hotel balcony.

#3 - I ended up watching a bit of Adult Swim over the last couple days. While most of the shows are either poorly animated or unfunny, I enjoyed several of the remainder. One of my favorites is The Big O, a good-looking show with tolerable dialogue and very big robots. Now, anime shows are, of course, fairly deep into the realm of geek, but I don't hide my affinity for them. Especially not this show. My wife loves it, so I have carte blanche to enjoy The Big O.

The only interesting part of this story is the fact that I stated the previous sentence rather loudly at breakfast yesterday morning, well within earshot of dozens of people.

Mixed messages

The keynote speaker gave us advice on how to attain increased
longevity based on his research into areas in which people have active
lives past 100 years of age. While mainly about a meatless diet, the
unspoken messages in his speech were about stress levels. Low stress
makes you live forever apparently, and not one of the examples this
guy used looked like they had a computer in their homes. So, I
started the day learning how to add years to my life by eating better,
increasing interpersonal contact, and reducing stress then ran
upstairs to my first seminar (since the keynote went long) at which I
received an overview of various complicated methods of accessing data
rapidly. I then went to lunch, at which were provided three different
kinds of meat sandwich.

What is all this ruckus?

For those of you who maintain interest in the Underworld location debate, be sure you check out the relevant posts of webshite and outgrabes, and also go back to mine for another comment lending credence to Budapest argument.

Can't change lanes

Living in a land where the weather is constantly temperate must increase the desire for nice cars. I can't go a block without seeing a BMW roadster, a new Mustang convertible, and a beautiful classic car. On a bearings-getting expedition yesterday I saw something I had never seen before -- a Lamborghini. It was parked in a spot right next to the regular cars. I gawked for a bit then lit out before the owner came back and had his goons shiv me for damaging his vehicle by focusing on it for too long.

A kingly sum

I have a sneaking suspicion that jet lag is going to turn out to be a real bitch.

Picture two men wandering around a sunny city, their spirits oscillating between sun-induced glee and travel-induced exhaustion and you've got a good summary of yesterday afternoon and evening.

Conferences usually mean several consecutive nights of going out for drinks, and I fear this greatly for the following reason: I can't find a beer for less than five bucks. I'm fairly certain that the hotel staff now knows me as "the cheap guy", since after a few forays in an attempt to find reasonably priced alcohol, I ended up in the gift/stuff-you-forgot store staring at the refrigerator unable to convince myself to buy a six-pack of Budweiser for $10.50.

Stale Taste

I'm in San Diego at a conference for the next few days, and I got off the plane about an hour ago. I must admit, I feel bad for all of the Europeans who came to our magnificent country in search of gold, silver, and whatnot. What they found was what I spent six hours flying over today: a whole lot of nothing.

Had never seen the Pacific until today. Awesome.

Can't help you

Just came from the grocery store. Someone asked me if I worked there. I'm guessing it's the eveningwear-Ken slacks and white shirt combined with the frustrated, bored demeanor.

xboxors

Tired of "news" about runaway brides? B A Start brings you the important stuff. Looks like Gates let the news out that he's planning to ship the next version of the Xbox this year.

Now, I got the Xbox in the fall of last year. Despite the chorus of wails from the leet community, I had no issues buying the Xbox with the full knowledge of the rumors. As I made small talk with one of my brother's geek friends, he expressed deep concern about the purchase, since the next-next-gen machine was due out "next year". I patted him on the head and told him it would all be okay somehow. He'd see. There are plenty of Xbox titles out there to keep me occupied well into the career of the Xbox 360 (or whatever it ends up being named), but this line of reasoning cannot be followed by a geek. You have two choices -- retrogaming or the latest/greatest. I felt it best to let the topic slide. The black-shirt-with-white-text-wearing squirrel of a man skittered into the other room, presumably to level up his paladin.

No one to stop them this time.

I was going pen a small post asking if it was possible for there to be anything geekier than Star Wars Risk, but then I remembered Lego Star Wars: The Video Game. Good gravy. A walk through Target is like visiting the inside of a deranged Lucasarts marketing director's secretest fantasy. I thought the blitz for Episode I was bad -- I refused to believe, couldn't believe that anything could surpass Amidala shampoo. It would appear that I was incorrect. My guess is that they fear the release of Episode III to be their last chance to make a gazillion or two off or Lucas's thirty-year-old vision, despite promises of a couple TV shows in the works.

Ultima

We have something required of us which was not required of generations prior, something they took quite for granted. The proliferation of the internet repeatedly puts us in the situation of having to define ourselves. Every email address, every screenname, every new logon, every forum membership, every blog comment requires an identity, and for the first time in history we have to make it up on our own.

This is a boon and curse, of course. Now your last name or skin color doesn't define you unless you want it to. So the question is, what is one to do? A great exercise in this is making an avatar for yourself on this website, pointed out to me by Tom ages ago.


So what do you pick? Do you make your online identity the same as your real world one?



A cooler version of yourself?



Someone vastly different?



Something outlandish?



The choice is yours, and that isn't necessarily a good thing. More on this later.

Let's put this to bed.

A surprisingly heated debate took place between some friends the other day on where the movie Underworld is set. Opinions were as follows:

London, because they have British accents. Clearly wrong, since the subway has none of those Mind The Gap warnings.

America, because the non-vampires (Michael and his co-worker) have US accents, the two great covens are divided by "a great ocean", and there are Bacardi posters. Also wrong, because of the following.

Somewhere in Eastern Europe, because Michael's street address looks like it would be in Eastern Europe.

Here's the straight dope. Michael Corvin's address listed as "Laktos Joszef 39 ut." In Hungarian, utca means "street" and uttest means "road". Also, the movie was filmed in Budapest.

On related notes, Jonathan Harker's journal entries in Dracula start with him arriving in Budapest and there is a Corvinus University in Budapest.

Instupicuous

Here's something for the geeks. Want to be like Michael Bolton of Office Space, but just can't get into rap? I recommend this album. Whether you realize it or not, you know who Del the Funky Homosapien (alternate spelling "tha funkee") is. Since you're a geek, I know you've played Tony Hawk Pro Skater 3. Remember skating to this song about personal hygiene? That's Del. Your geekiness also reveals that you have at least tried to like the band Gorillaz despite the fact their music isn't particularly notable. Who can resist a band that only exists in animation? Their most recognizable song is
Clint Eastwood, featuring Del. You should give one of his albums a listen, as he raps mainly about playing videogames and/or getting high.

Deltron 3030, the album recommended above, is a space opera about a former mechsoldier who battles the powers that control the galaxy. I mean, come on. It's great stuff, but you don't want to get caught rocking out to it. "Look at that geek listening to rap music -- what a poser. Wait a minute, did I just hear the word 'plasteel'?". So close the blinds, crank the speakers, and enjoy it before anyone notices.

Go ahead -- turn it on.

Happy TV-Turnoff Week everybody. Every minute you're not watching TV is a minute you're paying for and not using, so give the cable company what they want. While you're at it, go buy dinner and throw it out the window of your car.

I have no idea why TV gets such a bad rap. You know what people did with their free time before TV? Sat on the porch and watched nothing go by. Sat and watched the fireplace. It's not as if the pre-TV era was a golden age of physical activity and intellectual stimulation which was replaced by zombiism because we are all too dumb to turn away from a glowing light. People have always sat on their asses, and will continue to do so until Judgement.

My favorite part of the CNN.com story on TV-Turnoff Week is the content-sensitive ad bar that points you to places to buy televisions.

Forty fakirs

After trying once again and once again failing to read The Arabian Nights, I find myself with a question. You see, Aladdin gets his hands on a magic ring and a magic lamp, either of which when rubbed will cause a genie to appear and give him anything he wants. Everyone knows that the genie only offers three wishes, but this is not so in the version I read. So, when did this limitation get added on? I'm filing this next my long-standing question of when Atlantis changed from the destroyed city to the city in the bubble on the ocean floor: in the folder labelled "Stuff You'll Never Know".

Cultural unit

Rumor has it I have been memed, meaning that I must answer a question and pass the question on. Okey dokey.

What is the stupidest thing I have ever done? Most of my stupid doings are those of omission -- forgetting things or not keeping track of them. I stuck my fingers in an outlet once. Backed into a concrete post. There was the phone number incident.

Myself and a dozen other Boy Scouts from around the US were backpacking in New Mexico for two weeks. I was the leader, and had the maps. One day, we had a particularly difficult hike ahead of us -- up and down two mountains for a total of about twenty miles. When we reached the top of the first mountain, I picked the wrong trail. Long story short, we spent too many hours walking the wrong way in painful heat and a kid almost died.

And there you have it, the stupidest thing I've ever done. The moral of the story is "don't give Alex the map," an adage which has held true for every one of the thirteen years since that event. And now comes the part where I pass it on:

Jess, Emily, and the madcap band of misfits that is Webshite.

Revelations was ok

Tonight's entertainments were about going back to things I thought were good and discovering I was mistaken.

First, the movie Goldeneye -- the first Bond movie with Brosnan and the basis of my all-time favorite videogame. This should be good, right? As it turns out, 80's action movie music, unattractive Bond girls, and general cheesiness do not a good film make. I don't think a single good Bond flick has been made post-Connery.

Second, Jedi Academy. In an attempt to temporarily stave off the creeping Star Wars madness, I rented this game for the Xbox today. I loved its predecessor, so my expectations were high. Yikes. The graphics are terrible, I can't stand hearing my character say "hup" every damn time he jumps, and if I walk by one more bad guy while waving my lightsaber all around him without touching him, I refuse to be held responsible for my actions.

On an only slightly related note, I have this to look forward to. Must... keep expectations... low....

And, to wrap up, after years of sitting idly by as I watch the movies and spend disgusting numbers of hours playing the games, my wife has had to listen to the James Bond theme song more than any woman in the world.

So near.

If you weren't already aware of it, Radiohead's The National Anthem is one of the greatest accomplishments mankind has achieved to date.

As you may have guessed

You know what I don't have? Any clothes appropriate for warm weather. Now, before you throw your hands up and yell "shopping spree" in a sing-sing tone, think on this. I hate buying clothes. Having clothes is fine, but getting them... no so much. I estimate I purchase between four and five individual pieces of clothing in a year, and that's if you count 3-packs of boxers as three. Maybe it's some kind of identity thing, or something as simple as ignorance as to what looks presentable. Either way, I'm completely useless.

Maybe I'll just start wearing my work clothes all day and eliminate the problem completely. I recently limited my selection of work shirts to white and white alone, when matching ties to patterned shirts proved more than my pre-coffee consciousness could wrestle with successfully. Why not extend this to post-work? I just remove the tie Ken-style and I'm ready for an evening on the town. I'll keep away from stain-likely foods, buy some more comfortable work shoes, and be in business. What say you now, Men's section? I stand in defiance of your stripey tyranny!

You'll have to guess the other two.

Having been raised amidst entertainments of a number unseen in times prior, this generation of nerds speaks in a language composed primarily of references. Where the conversations of our forenerds were sprinkled with Bible passages and Latin phrases, or where those of our nerdy parents were limited to Monty Python and Firesign Theater quotes, ours are flooded with lines from the limitless movies and television shows which made the corpus of text to which we were exposed while growing up. This being the case, we love to get someone else's references and to have ours understood. As in all things, there are degrees to this tendency, ranging from the occasional quote by the more reserved to full scene recreations by the most unabashedly geeky.

The men who have given this guilty nerdy pleasure literary credibility are Neil Gaiman and Alan Moore, writers of the Sandman and The League of Extraordinary Gentlemen comic book series respectively. In Sandman, Gaiman uses his remarkable knowledge of mythology and folklore to create a backdrop for his characters, littering his world with characters from the legends of all lands, from the goddess Bast to the drunken fairy Cluracan. The League of Extraordinary Gentlemen overflows with a surfeit of references to Victorian fantasy literature. The depth and complexity of these references are truly astonishing, and no one without a PhD in Vic lit stands a chance at getting all of them, let alone most.

I just read Gaiman's 1602, a miniseries in which the characters of the early Marvel universe are in Exploration Age Europe, living at constant risk of being exposed and killed for heresy and witchcraft. In typical style, Gaiman makes his puzzles just difficult enough to keep you wondering if caught everything. Reading reminded me of how frustrating (who is the super-fast kid supposed to be?!?) and nerdily rewarding (two riders on the same horse! I get it!) his stuff can be.

It also gave me opportunity to indulge in one of the pleasures I can refer to only as "guiltiest": comic book annotations. After discovering Sandman and LoEG annotations online, the secrets unravelled before me. I could enjoy all of the subtleties of the works, without having to acquire a lifetime's worth of knowledge. They taught me quite a bit, and pointed me towards stories I never would have come across on my own.

That being said, spending a spring Saturday afternoon reading online comic book annotations is about the third-nerdiest thing I have ever done.

I'm a sucker for flash games.

I am 100% fried. Not much to say for now, so go entertain yourself with this. Only entertaining with the sound on.

Nothing to be concerned about, I'm sure

Okay. I'm out smoking. Beat-up, rusting car rumbles up, Billie Holiday music blaring. White male, late-thirties early forties, balding, 200 lbs, opens the car door and pours liquid onto the street. He gets out of the vehicle, closes the door, then kicks the door to fully close it. He is wearing the short coat of an MD in training and has a stethoscope slung over his neck. He lights a cigarette and walks briskly down the middle of the road. He walks to a sidewalk, doubles back to toss the cigarette, and walks into a house. He's a killer, right? Aren't all balding white males who act erratically killers? And the Billie Holiday? That's straight psycho shit.

Bi!

Just read a manga online. This became much easier once I remembered to read right-to-left.

Look at me

Remember this post? The one that got the attention of the Rhapsody guy? Well, here's a little more food for playlist-posting thought

"The researchers found that people actively work to create an image of themselves through the music they make available to others, just as they might by buying a new car or showing off a cell phone."

Common themes

Here's what I remember from last night's dream. I was staying in a hotel with a large group of people, a high school trip or something. The hotel was a converted seaside manor, all narrow hallways and oddly shaped rooms. I was in a room which had clearly been decorated by a goth kid -- punk posters and dark plaid. After lights out, a white cat with very short hair went around to all the doors to check that they were closed -- I saw his paws push against the thin paper of the door. My room was long and had a couple entrances, one of which had been left open a crack. The cat came in, jumped on the desk and started knocking things over. I tossed him out and closed the door.

Next scene, my roommate (my wife?) and I had snuck out and were on the porch walking around in the dim pre-sunrise light. As I passed in front of a glass-panel door, I saw what the cat was protecting us from. Something that looked like one of the Dementors from Azkaban darted into the room, hovering horizontally and searching for something, his black figure silhouetted against the blue light of the large windows across the room.

As his field of vision passed over me, I yelled "get down" and dropped to the floor as the thing, which I remember calling Dracula, flew towards us at great speed. I think there was a scythe involved.

I'll turn this car around.

Vacation with kids appears to be something entirely different from vacation without them. For me, the big V comes rarely and is usually synonymous with "bender". There is much sitting. With little tykes to contend with, though, vacations sound like just a different flavor of obligation. The relaxing becomes arduous, the pleasant unbearable.

One big difference is the car ride. A friend of mine told me that he took his kids to Brooklyn to visit his family there, and that hooking the Playstation up to the TV screen in his SUV made the ride easy peasy. They only made one stop, if you can imagine.

Now, I'm a proponent of letting the little tykes play video games until the blisters on their fingers pop (Do the kids these days even get blisters, what with the ergonomic controllers popular these days? It's not like their puerile hands need to suffer the square controllers of the NES anymore.), but I don't know if I back the PS2 on the car ride. Learning to keep quiet for the endless hours of a car ride is an important part of the development of the American child. We all remember sitting and staring out the window, making games out of nothing and not pestering the parents. Isn't that a fond memory?

Maintenance

The battle between Alex and the blog format continues. Damned if I can figure out color schemes. I tried the high-contrast approach, but that's just cruel. Now I'm back to the blue, but with a high-contrast banner. This looks weird. Guess I'll just keep messin'. Don't be too surprised if you see a rainbow of colors over the next few days.

Option

Here's a little redesign for you. No new content, but new format -- that's still good, right?

A few more years, at least.

Today's lunch-time conversation: is it possible to sin in Purgatory? Assuming you buy all that crap. "According to the Catholic Church, is it possible to sin in Purgatory?" is the correct phrasing, I guess. If after death, the faithful are submitted to the refining fires of Purgatory to cleanse them of their sins before entering Heaven, is it possible for them to sin during the duration of their stay?

Answer: No, because the Devil is not present in Purgatory. Thus he cannot tempt Man, causing him to sin.

I don't buy this. If I'm writhing around in the agonising flames of God's love, I can still dishonor my parents. As a matter of fact, I'd say it's pretty likely that I would.

Please sit down.

Saw HD hockey for the first time yesterday. Dude I work with recorded an HD re-broadcast of last season's game 7. I'm going to go out on a bit of a limb here and say that except for the smell of the ice, it was better than being there. You want to see the cuts on the ice? The yellow of last night's bruises? This is the way to go. Trouble is, the fans are in HD, too. Yikes.

Si je puis.

Check this out. Now, I've considered doing the same thing ol' Bats did and go to Scotland in search of my heritage. I know zero about Scottish tradition, but showing up in the town that shares my last name and poking around seems like it might be cool. It also seems a lot like trying to find something to hang my identity hat on, looking for something to associate myself with. I might as well just do some online research -- I'd end up with the same amount of stuff, and it would have just as much relevance to my life and experience.

Alex smash!

After seeing this post on the RT, I decided to go and have the internet tell me just who it thinks I am. Not unlike our pal Garvey, I appear to be Spiderman. Twice. Now this just pisses me right off. I am not a fan of Spidey, not by a long shot. If I wanted a soap opera, I'd read some damn Bronte -- I don't even care which one. I give not one shit about who Peter Parker like-likes.

Along similar lines, I came close to divorce recently. Her Worshipfulness had the audacity to claim that Superman cheated on Lois with Wonder Woman. Despite my insistence that the stuff they put on the covers is usually just a ruse to get you to read the whole thing, that Superman was likely placed under a magic spell, or that the rumor smacks of Mxtlplk, she held her ground. Held her ground and very nearly found herself tossed to the curb. The very idea.

Third

Oh great. The genius minds who managed to take oldest, best story western civilization has created and turn in into a loathsome, trite mess will now be laying their destructive bent towards the one piece of science fiction that holds a faint, flickering candle to Dune (science fiction's supreme masterpiece). There are rumors that they plan on slashing my tires, killing my family, and buying me a dog so they can then shoot it.

Here He makes men.

I still haven't fully recovered from the 2003 collapse of the Old Man of the Mountain, the natural rock formation resembling a human face in profile which was the symbol of my home state of New Hampshire. In my childhood, I envisioned men on ropes clambering reverently over the face, patching up holes and strengthening the weaknesses created by erosion. This job occupied a place in my mind similar to that held by lighthouse keepers, another patently New England office. Imagine being the caretaker and getting the call, the voice on the phone disbelieving and perhaps cracking just a little. You were in charge of keeping that face, the symbol of the patient resolve of the people who carve a life out of the granite, safe from the ravages of time, and now that symbol has fallen, never to be repaired. The thing stood for uncounted millenia, and it fell in my lifetime. You can never go home again, because your home has fallen to pieces.

Also in 2003, the world's first openly gay bishop was elected in NH. This is presumably not related.

I want you to check me as hard as you can.

I'm not sure what city Fight Club is set in, but it's safe to say it doesn't have a decent amateur hockey scene.

You snooze you win.

Ah, the bored joy of a day off. I strongly recommend it. Yes, you're going to end up feeling like you wasted the day screwing around. Yes, there will be emails a-plenty waiting for you Monday morning. Nonetheless, it is still worth it. I also recommend planning days off and vacation ahead of time. Having something to look forward to can apparently make a difference.

I've noticed that "stressed" has become the characteristic by which people define me. Not my close friends (while I'm sure many would not hesitate to call me such, it's not the alpha/omega), but the various acquaintances, family members, and guest stars that fill in the gaps in the warp and woof of my interpersonal fabric. The small talk they offer when forced to talk to me reveals that the only thing they know about me is that I have a stressful job. That roughly translates to "wuss" right?

So what to do about this? Anything? Should I care?

Step 1: more vacation. Screw this coal miner crap.

Step 2: invent an interesting hobby and tell everyone about it. That way, when these poor, kind people are stuck talking to me, they can ask "so, how's the ostrich farm?" or "hey, I saw something on snowmobiles yesterday. You still drag race them?".

I suppose I could actually start an interesting hobby but that don't hardly sound like me.

It's killing me.

I've been trying very, very hard not to like this song. It's just not working. Now, from my standpoint you have two choices when it comes to contemporary rock bands that might be gay and definitely wear makeup: wacko art students Franz Ferdinand or Las Vegas wusses The Killers. The main difference between these two bands is that Franz Ferdinand is good. Imagine my embarrassment and surprise, then, when I find myself declaring to other motorists that I'm Mr. Brightside.

We get it.

I move we censor bagpipes. Like touchdown celebrations, the use of the once understandable, even appropriate, piping had become uncontained, unbridled in its fervor. I refer in particular to the sound of bagpipes being used in cinema and television as the theme for the beautiful-warlike-melancholy-male. It is as if the instrument can only play mournful war ballads.

The sound is now used as a convenient way to elicit the aforementioned Braveheart emotion. Why bother writing decent dialogue or presenting moving imagery when Hamish McHamish can set his bag to "archetype" and bring on the tears for a lot less capital?

The problem is that this doesn't work. Despite the best efforts of the entertainment industry, we haven't yet become Pavloved enough to paint ourselves blue every time some red-haired cannibal breathes into a Hoover. So stop it. Enough already. Save it for something actually Scottish.

Has those family shares well-protected.

You know what happened before The Great Escape? Blur hung out with a bunch of rich people, and it really pissed them off.

Turbo

I've started a new blog for my GT4 pics.

In name alone.

Ok, Spring. Let's get with the program here. Tell Jack Frost he's had enough fun at our expense and make with the decent weather. It's not that I'm a big outdoors guy, like I'm waiting to get back to jetskiing or anything like that. I'm just ready to retire the snowbrush.

I sat down and mapped out my calendar of time off the other day. All these Universal Orlando "take back your vacation" commercials must be getting to me.

And that's all I've got for you today.

Before picking up GT4, I asked Her Worshipfulness a rhetorical question: Just who do they think is going to take pictures of their digital cars and share them with people? Her reply: "People like you, Alex. People just like you."

Carlsberg Years

Can anyone explain to me why Bode Miller was the USA Today cover story today? I mean aside from the fact that USA Today sucks.

Now, I'm a fan of competitive skiing. Any time it appears on my TV, my remote can be found lying on the floor behind my shortly after. One might think that watching people ski the exact same run over and over, missing each other's times by imperceptible fractions of seconds, would be boring. Not to this guy. Imagine my surprise when I see Bode Miller on the front page. Cool, right? But... skiing? That's the big news today? Aren't we engaged in two different wars?

I watched Snatch last night, too.

Well, I was going to post about the fact that Oliver Wood is played by a guy named Biggerstaff, but Garv saved you all.


1. which cartoon character from our youth are you most similar to, and which would you prefer to be most like?


Most similar to: First base, Bugs Bunny. Now, I know that probably sounds self-important, picking major character like that, but here's the deal. My smart-ass attitude gets me in trouble and I have a propensity for getting lost.

Want to be: Tigra. Mental powers, can teleport, has awesome bolo thing, and banging Cheetara. Ho!!!


2. let's say you write the next "great american novel". who would you most like to write glowing reviews for the dust jacket?

The concept of the great American novel is a complicated one, worthy of its own post, so I'll answer the question you asked. Elizabeth Cook, author of Achilles. Her book is as close to perfect as I can imagine, and I can imagine quite a bit.


3. what's your favorite curse word? (okay, that is a james lipton one, but it's still a good question.)

I like me some 'hell', certainly, but I'd have to say 'Jesus'. Gets the freaks all riled up.



4. a genie appears but can only grant three food wishes. what are your perfect breakfast, lunch, and dinner menus?

Breakfast: pancakes w/ real maple syrup, bacon. OJ, coffee.

Lunch: bread, olives, cheese. Coca-cola.

Dinner: Spaghetti and meat sauce. Salad. Bread. Wine.



5. what is one thing about you that you have never admitted on B A Start?

My last name.

Start training now.

The First Annual Buffalo Winter Driving Skills Competition

Day 1: Parking

• Parallel park a 1992 Buick Century between two SUV's on the side of the road that should have been plowed before the sides switched but wasn't. Points awarded for time, proximity to curb, and lack of vehicle damage.
  
• Park a sedan in an unplowed driveway between two houses. Demerits for hitting either house or not pulling far enough up.
• Park on the road in such a way that a passing plow will not hit you, but a woman in heels can get out of the passenger side door without sliding under the vehicle. (Woman to be provided by event manager.)
• Elmwood Village, 5 am. No one has shoveled. Find a spot that isn't in front of someone's driveway.
  

Day 2: Time trials

• Drive down Main Street from Delevan to Allen in under ten minutes. Automatic disqualification if driver hits a pothole or if the "Low Trac" idiot light comes on at any time. Good luck.
• The 33 from the198 to Genesee. Without windshield wiper fluid.

Day 3: Special events

• You have a fifteen minute drive and a cold car. Find the balance between interior temperature and visibility due to the fog level of the windshield. Judged by an anemic woman with no gloves who hasn't had lunch.
  
• Navigate Gates Circle safely. The circle will be filled with cars driven by people on cellphones, the elderly, and people who only brushed the snow off the driver's side windshield.
• Take a left out of Panos at 1pm on Saturday. Points awarded for least number of people dead.

No four wheel / all wheel drive vehicles allowed. Extra points distributed based on amount of rust on your vehicle -- 1 point per event per square inch. Three extra points per event if you compete with your girlfriend in the car.

On antibiotics

God damn it.

The first day with some sun and I'm stuck inside, waiting for Mr. Fix-It to swing down and check out the water dripping from the window in the bathroom.

When stepping outside is synonymous with brutal cold and frustrating driving, the scope of potential activities narrow dramatically. One would think this would cause an up-swing in the world of blogs, but no. We're all starting to crack, and our blogs reflect it. My day-to-post ratio has dropped substantially, even with last weekend's marathon. Over at webshite, Greg is happy to let us know he's got nothing going on. At outgrabes, boredom is tune of the day. Swish is on sabbatical, and DHKA (while not a blog) has been silent since the cold began.

And here it is, a sunny day with melting snow and the promise of a decent drive, and I'm doing the same thing I've done for weeks. Sit inside and screw around.

Side-note: Water damage follows me around. My childhood home, my college dormroom, my two previous apartments, and now my current living sitcheeation. I think water's out to get me.

Under direct order

I have government issues. I come from a town where we voted by raising our hands in town meeting and state in which there are no taxes and no services. I now live in a state where they make laws as if the goal of human existence was to cover all the paper in the world with esoterica. If the current year was 1995, I'd say I experienced culture shock, but the proliferation of the internet has made any accepted turn of phrase passe in nano-seconds, and I wouldn't want to lose my credibility.

Here's the problem. I don't trust the government, and I don't trust the people. For example, I'm not a big fan of the jury system, since it takes people who don't necessarily know anything about the law and puts them in charge of implementing it. I also don't think the judge should make all of the decisions, since people have biases and mortgages.

Let's talk about public school curricula. (No, wait! Keep reading! I promise, it won't be too bad. If you get bored, just think about how 'curricula' reminds you of Bunnicula.) Who should decide whether or not to teach about evolution? Now, the federal govt coming down and telling the town and city govts what to do gets my blood warm, but my guess is that the number of school districts that want not to / do not teach evolution is getting up there, and this needs to be stopped by people who have brains.

This is my pain. I don't trust big central govt not to exploit the hell out of everything and I don't trust the citizens to make educated decisions.

So what do I do about it? Like any self-respecting American under 37, I blog about it. Completely ineffectual, but it does feel so very, very good. I mean, to the untrained eye it's almost like I'm writing a respectable article about a pressing issue, when in fact I'm vaguely bitching about whatever's on my mind without being restrained by having to have a good point or any recommendations. No editor needed, I'll publish whatever the fuck I want, thank you. This format rocks.