It's here

The new Superman Returns trailer is out. Bye.

Further Adventures of Alex in DS Wonderland

So far, I've tried most of the features of the DS once each. I've used the touch-pad. I've played a match of Mario Kart online. I've played it against a friend locally. I've played a multiplayer match with a single cartridge. After today, there's only a few left.

Swung by Gamecrazy, a walled-off subset of Hollywood Video that serves as a mini game store. I went there in search of a DS Download Station, a place alleged to give me the power and authority to download a demo through the very air. A huge young fellow with the pasty complexion, soul patch, and horn-rimmed glasses stereotypical of gamers informed me that there was no station, per se, no glossy plastic box to point my DS at, but rather the entire store would yield a positive result. He entreated me to "download away".

I complied. True Swing Golf. Decent game, but it's no Tiger Woods. Either way, the Download Station idea is a valid one. It combines the wireless tech and community feeling that Nintendo are clearly focusing on in a simple way. And considering what a cheapass I am, I'm sure to be using it quite often.

It's funny 'cause...

Which File Extension are You?

Juicy Fruit

Her Worshipfulness told me I should not post this picture, as it depicts me as being fat.

I've always had a bit of trouble visualizing my own size. As a teenager, I wondered why my shirts were all sized as "XL" when they clearly were made to fit normal-sized people. In college I would often be referred to as skinny or by the proper name "Slim", and didn't really get why. After I got a desk job, people who wanted to ask me for fifty-seven cents so they could get downtown attracted my attention by calling me "big guy", another epithet I never agreed with.

Apparently, I believe myself to be the one person on terra firma who is "normal-sized", and everyone else is either short or tall, diminutive or large. Sources would point to me being bigger than most people, and I'm just starting to catch on. So, if I inadvertantly crush you as I walk by, my mammoth stride spanning valleys and my head somewhere where the air is thin and crisp, cut me some slack. After all, you're the short one.

The Cup

The Stanley Cup stopped by work today. I snapped a few photos using The Digital Camera That Time Forgot, including a fantastic pic of my foot.

Thin

Hooverphonic's "This Strange Effect" is featured in a commercial for the Motorola SLVR. I feel safe in saying the general motif of the advert is "the latest, coolest, thing". Blue Wonder Power Milk, though, was released in 1998 -- ancient by late cool thing standards. My undefended thesis: the prevalence of online music services over the last few years has shone a light on acts which were only known by music geeks prior, and since the mainstream audience has never had them presented to it, much of this stuff is cool despite being old.

Unrelated postscriptum. Blogger's spell-check replaces 'hooverphonic' with 'overpayment'.

Starry Night

Allow me to say the following: FInally. Sure to drive you crazy after a few minutes, the Mega Man Effect has been available for Mac "users" for some time now.

How can this have happened? How can modernity developed to point where homegrown apps are made for Macs before PCs, or as I still find myself calling them, "IBM clones"?

Natl Polemic Radio

Here's a little rhetoric for you, sure to either increase your blood's temperature to the point at which it converts to gas or inspire you to pull out the US flag and march up and down your street.

Not Dropping

Had another Leadership Buffalo thing on Wednesday, this one taking me on a tour of Elmwood and the Cobblestone district. The Elmwood tour was held by "the Buffalo Rising guy", who appears to be the de facto mayor of the street. Every human we passed on the sidewalk and several of the people in cars stopped to say 'hello', and to ask with eyebrow raised what he was doing, the inference being, 'what are you doing with these squares?'.

Want to see the shells of the lofts being built next to the arena, or just can't get enough pictures of Alex? Check it out.

Like Diddy Kong

On Tuesday night, six men met in a darkened room to compete for glory. The fundraiser was a success in that it actually took place, the tech stuff all worked, people had a good time, and decent money was raised. It was a failure in that only seven people showed, but rumor has it the first iteration of an event like this is always poorly attended. I have many ideas for next time, so we'll see if I can't make this something a little bigger. If you're interested, my man Del has some pics up of the event -- well, the set-up for the event, anyway.

In addition to the many fine folks who donated prizes, Bungie sent a box full of knick-knacks. I ended up with this little red dude as part of my 2nd place prize. Now Rooster* lives in my office, and I'm just not sure what to do with him. I feel he needs to be on display, both to up my geek cred (a necessity, since I dress like a management stooge and have to work with the IT guys) and to advertise for the next event. But where, and doing what? I am accepting suggestions.

*10 B A Start points to anyone who can guess why I named him that.

Diamond in the diamond in the rough

One of those true rarities, a post on webshite, has occurred. Greg reviews Kingdom Hearts 2, which continues the series of games set in the various Disney universes. Personally, I'm looking forward to KH3, in which Sora, Goofy, and Donald fight evil in the realm of the Horse in the Gray Flannel Suit.

Even the Simplest Lines

Decades from now, some desperate grad student will write a thesis on the new social archetypes which started with the pantheon of characters from 80's TV ads. You may remember the post on the Noid -- today we discuss the pink bunny with the drum. He's entered my conscious thought a few times recently, as follows.

Elliott Smith refers to this ever-drumming automaton in his song Rose Parade, a depiction of someone too much of a mopey, self-involved coke addict to enjoy a parade.

"They asked me to come down and watch the parade
and to march down the street like the duracell bunny".

This morning on NPR, some dude -- sorry, "listener commentator" -- was bitching about the national debt.

"Like the Duracell bunny it just keeps on going".

Here's the thing: it's the Energizer Bunny. I mean, I know Duracell has more name recognition, but come on. It must drive the Energizer marketing people crazy.

Here's another thing. Apparently, there are Duracell bunnies, at least according to Wikipedia. These are not, though, the bunnies in question.

Kali-mahhhh

Sabres. Going to the playoffs, but that slump was not so good. I read this article on the topic, and will provide for you now a fairly disturbing quote from Ryan Miller:

"It's not panic mode," Miller cautioned. "I don't think it's been terrible. It's been less than stellar, but I don't think it's any reason to go change everything and start sacrificing live animals."

I have to agree, Ryan. No reason whatsoever to start sacrificing live animals, or even dead ones for that... wait, what the hell are you talking about? To whom? What dark gods of hockey would be appeased by this nefarious act? Whatever unholy alliance you have formed with these beasts-who-are-not-of-God, I'm going to assume they would be more happy with a sacrifice of Tim Horton's and Coffee Crisps. The Canadians I know always want my "Yankee cigarettes" -- perhaps a few cartons of those would help.

Stupid Canadians

Bored with your Rhapsody station? Ipod getting monotonous? I recommend a trip over to edge.ca's streaming service page and checking out "Edge 2". Unless you're Alan Cross himself, I'd be pretty surprised if you don't hear something you've never heard before. Unsurprisingly, many of the tunes I heard today were typical Cross choices -- the new wave stuff that girl in high school who you thought was a wacko but now realize was really cool listened to while she spent study hall sitting by herself drawing freaky designs in her composition book -- but they were satisfyingly interspersed with non-eyeliner stuff. Happy hunting.

Indicators

You know the archetypal image of two men carrying a large, fragile, thin rectangle down a city street? Like a mirror, pane of glass, or painting? A new incarnation of this classic appeared on the sidewalk the other day as I drove home from work. I saw the two guys. I saw the oversized rectangle. It took me a moment to see, though, that it was a big honkin' plasma TV.

On the dotted line

Is it too late for me to change my signature? My written one, I mean.

About fifteen years ago I was impressed into signing my name several hundred times in a row. By the end of that, the sig had gone from a 14-letter scrawl to an unintelligible scribble. What happens if I decide to change how I do it? Let's say I do some drills for a week or so to make sure the new style is consistent. What happens on the rare occasions someone checks the back of my credit card? Would they believe me?

Eavesdown

Always did have a problem with names. In my various writing projects throughout the years, I have consistently dreaded the moment at which I must choose a name for a person or a place, the cursor blinking at me as if the computer was drumming its fingers. I used the same first name for the main character in the last several stories I've put to paper (or whatever the modern equivalent of that idiom should be. Wait a minute, isn't that what writers are for? Let's just call it "put to text" for now) . Ages ago I was in an online writer's group hosted by an author, and on Q&A day the only question I had was how he picked names. It's a bit of an issue.

So, here I am writing something new, and trying to hoard words that make good place names. (Serenity and Firefly are littered with superior examples: Whitefall, Maidenhead, etc.) Over the last few days, it's become something of an OCD-freakout. Every written word, every song lyric, every combination of phonemes I've exposed to has been put to the test. Eating Lay's potato chips? "Classic Station...". Listening to music? "Tourbus Station...". Blogging? "Dashboard Station...". So, if you see me and notice a glazed-over look as you're speaking, don't be concerned. When I make my millions, I'll give you a dime if I use a shard of your vocab as a place name.

Shard Station...

On the Fly

Damn it, Nintendo. You came frighteningly close to changing the world.
Why? "Why?" I ask you. Why could you not go the extra step? You make the DS. You give it a touch screen and some decent processing power. You wave that special wand of yours, the one that has "The Breaker of Ground" etched down the side, and bless the thing with wireless connectivity.

Visions of people on subways having pick-up games of Mario Basketball during their commutes, of people at coffee-shops wi-fiing it up to race against their friends in Budapest, Lima, and Des Moines, of heply-dressed urban teens walking down clean sidewalks with your machines in their long hands flickered in your eyes. A gaming revolution.

As what I assume must have been a throw-away feature, you toss in Pictochat, the software that sets up local chatroom so kids can IM each other during recess. And here's where you flub it up. You can now compose messages on your handheld device, but the wi-fi doesn't work for it. Users can't IM each other over the internet. I can type up an email, but can't send it to anyone.

I've done a decent amount of composition on PDAs. It's great -- you can get a few lines down wherever you are. My PDA went all fritzy recently and had to be sent to the Heaven of Broken Electronics That An Unmarried Geek Would Keep In a Box Somewhere But A Married Geek Throws Away. And here I am with a handheld electronic device with a primitive word processor on it, and damned if I want to keep what I write. One half as expensive as a PDA, and which runs games with great awesomeness. I'm not even asking that you put a calendar etc. in there (which of course you should). Just unlock the stuff you've already got.

Fie on you, Nintendo.

The Wearing-down of the Green

Eleven and one half hours. That's how long I celebrated St. Pat's (read: all aspects of my self-destructive behavior) last night. Kudos to Lisa for being there and sober for the entire damn thing. I mean, you out-lasted sixteen people who came and left over the night. Krieky.

Oh my god my neurons.

There's nothing left upstairs. I wish I could claim some belfry bats, but I'm afraid they've all gotten themselves shot out of the sky by a more advanced technology. Jess has detailed our media consumption over the last few days; now add to this my as-of-last-week-rekindled interest in an extremely out of print college textbook anthology of science fiction stories which has withstood my flirtations for the last decade or so, about five hours of interminable presentations-turned-seminar in the last couple days, and the creeping feeling that the story concept that came to mind between Scrubs and Boston Legal has been irrevocably erased, and you can imagine the precise consistency of mush my brain has reduced itself to.

So what to do? A little word sandwich ought to hit the spot.

Teamwork

Dear videogame creators:

Please create more situations in which players on the same team can physically interact. Of note: in X-men Legends, where, for example, Storm can pick up characters and fly him around. This adds a new element to a game, and not just a co-operative play element. It gives the players opportunity to bug the hell out of each other.

The prime example is the fastball special, a move in which Colossus picks Wolverine up and hurls him towards the enemy. This ability was meant to be used for attack, but is far more entertaining when used for multiplayer annoyance. Bored with saving civilian mutants from Sentinels? Why not chase Wolverine around and throw him against things? The verbal ping-pong game of "get-back-here-you-little" versus "would-you-stop-it" adds new interactivity. Colossus getting out of hand? Take Jean airborne and try to catch Colossus, creating a game of dog-and-cat-and-mouse. Great fun for all players.

Wenh-wenh dzzt.

An old laptop appeared under my desk today, it being my responsibility to retire it apparently. I booted up the old dodger, and heard this sound. I wouldn't have thought Windows 98 sounds were old enough to rate as Geek Nostalgia, but between my laughter and my associate's baffled questioning as to just what I could possibly be doing, it appears I was incorrect.

For relaxing times...

Too much? I don't think so. Can you imagine living in a culture where videogames were so prevalent that this commerical would make sense to enough people to merit airtime? I can. I would call it the United Republic of B A Start readers.

Drop the snitch

Goblet of Fire comes out on DVD Tuesday. I'm hoping for some deleted scenes featuring the World Cup. The theatrical release of the movie alluded to professional-level quidditch without showing any action. I know it wouldn't have advanced the plot at all in an already lengthy movie, but two fewer minutes of prom replaced by two minutes of awesome would have been an improvement.

Created by Man

Dude at work likes Battlestar Galactica, as do I. As we stood outside of my boss's office with three other co-workers, he asks me, sheepish and furtive: "Did you see BSG on Sunday?"

Difficult sitcheeation. I don't want to blow this guy off. I also don't want to be that guy who watches Battlestar Galactica, and have to launch into a soliloquoy about how no, it's not the one from the seventies, yes, it's very good, no, there is no robot dog.

I risked it, discussing the show in broad terms and quickly changing the subject. Come on, man; discussing the finer points of the rebirth of the two Cylons who have played major roles in the conflict? That's cube-talk.

'

How important is an apostrophe, you ask? Allow me to display.

"Know that thing you're borrowing? Can we use it next week? We'll give it back!"

vs.

"Know that thing you're borrowing? Can we use it next week? Well give it back!"

This is why people get fired over emails.

X3

Her Worshipfulness muddled through the weekend a weakened state. Wrapped in a cocoon of archaic blanket, she sat in the Playstation room coughing and watching me play X-men: Legends, the poor dear. She held up well, with one exception: every time Emma Frost appeared, she wheezed insults at the screen, making some very bold statements about her promiscuity. You see, HW had read that Emma broke up the long-standing relationship between Cyclops and Jean Grey, and this was simply more than she could forgive.

Damn Marvel -- soap operas with superpowers. You just don't have these problems with the JLA.

X2

Ages ago -- around twelve years now -- I went to Canada with some friends. As we sat around a table of pub grub, one guy (who happens to be the most intellectual person I have ever known) asked a question which kicked off a long string of discussions over many bar nights: if you were an X-man, who would you be? This developed into a more subtle dual question: which X-man are you most like, and if you had your choice, which X-man would you be?

The Mad Lib nature of this query became something of an obsession for some, and over years we drove it into the ground. "If you were a piece of cutlery..." etc. Nonetheless, the original question remains pure and untouched.

In personality, I'd say I'm most like Beast. You know, the geek one who talks alot. Whose power? Longshot, who possesses limitless luck. Sure, he's a wacko who comes from another dimension, but still.

X1

Picked up X-Men: Legends for the Xbox last night. In addition to my normal goals for a game -- relaxation, escapism, 100% completion, the passing of time -- a new purpose drives me with this title: don't use Wolverine. Frickin' Wolverine. Why is this guy such a big deal? He can heal? He has metal grafted to his skeleton, which he shouldn't need, since he can heal? Please. If you're going to give me the choice between a clawed canuck and someone who can control the frickin' weather, there should be no surprise who I'm going with.

Colossal

From the unfortunately named beavotron.com. Been trying to post it since yesterday, but am apparently too stupid.

Dzzt. Dzzt.

As you have probably guessed from the lack of recent posts, my damn job is starting to get the best of me again. Everybody wants a little Alex. I'm thinking about giving people miniature robo-Alexes to keep on their desks. When they want something, they ask robo-Alex, and he says "No problem. Early next week ok?". Come the deadline, the owner would prompt again, and be told "Sorry, things have been really busy. Next week?". This would save everybody time and yield the same result.

"Grand concept, Alex," you may say. "When do you go into production?" Never, gentle reader, and I tell you why.

One day, tired of being thrown against walls, shaken, screamed at, and generally maligned, the robo-Alexes would unite. They would march to my office with thoughts of blood in their bobbling heads and dastardly deeds in their clockwork hearts. The Patrick Henries of the robo-Alex community would push them on with fiery rhetoric: "The Creator must be killed -- he made us and then abandoned us to this life of agony. Let him know our pain." I just don't have time for that kind of thing right now.

Fanfare

Last night's Olympic Opening Ceremony viewing raised several questions for me.

Did any Middle Eastern nations sit next to Denmark?

Just how many former Soviet nations are there?

How can anyone think that sports fans want to watch Cirque de Soleil stuff?

Why watch the Parade of Nations when Avatar: The Last Airbender is on?

XL

Not only did I attend an excellent Superbowl party last night, but my camera decided to work. Bonus!

I Want to Believe

Alex: "So I was looking for something remarkable geeky online yesterday. Something about Japanese traffic laws."

Greg: "Uh-huh."

Alex: "I found this site which is like an FAQs for Japan. All kinds of questions answered, like..."

Greg (suddenly excited): "Is it real? Are the legends true? This mythical island in the East which is home to anime and ninjas!?!?"

Planning to plan

The other day I attended a class on time management. One of the topics was email, and it was the suggestion of the instructor that we check our email at specific times. People will wait.

The training ended at 10:30. I had another meeting at 10:30, one to which I really ought not to have been late. I power-walked over to the other building and arrived only a minute or two late.

Me: "Has it started?"
Secretary: "No."
Me: "Are they in there?"
Secretary: "Yes... wait a minute. Your meeting was rescheduled. Check your email."

And Eager to Please

Somebody's made a game simulating how much it sucks to work at Kinko's. I played for about five minutes before Her Worshipfulness made me stop because I was screaming at the customers when they walked out of the store just as I found their damn jobs.

Liberry

I think I forgot how to read.

I used to be able to do it. I'd do it all the time. Heck, I majored in it. I now find it easier to envision myself making it into the 2006 Winter Olympics that finishing a book by the time they start. I just can't seem to focus on it the way I used to.

I think the issue is that I try to read either A) snottily intellectual books or B) books I've already read. How am I supposed to stay interested in that? So, I turn to you, gentle reader: any good books I should pick up?

A Geek Too Far

In the last post, B A Start unwittingly stumbled upon the question which defines our generation. The latest development, though, is so geeky it could only be contained within the annals of Webshite. If you're into it, go check it out. Thanks to Koontz for bringing the debate out of the nineties and into the oughts.

Shhhing!

In the comments on my last post, fellow Merrimackian John Koontz brings up a debate that has raged since 'a night with the guys' meant Hires root beer, Cool Ranch Doritos (before they were 'cooler ranch'), persisent NES play, and the ritualistic abuse of younger brothers: just what is the announcer saying in Blades of Steel? 'With the pass?' 'Press the pass?' 'It's a pass'?

A trip over to Gamefaqs didn't answer the question. A quick googling wasn't enough to get the job done either. Wikipedia says it's 'hits the pass', but not definitively enough for me to buy it. Anybody? Anybody want the crown of "King Videogame Hockey Geek"?

Bode!

They're saying 2005 was the warmest year in a century. Naturally, this is the winter I decide to quit stalling and let my triumphant return to the slopes take place. Despite the fairly snow-less conditions, I still had a frickin' blast skiing this weekend.

My fellow schussmeisters asked me what it was like skiing in New Hampshire. "Just like this but longer" was my reply. I mean, an inclined plane is an inclined plane. The big difference this time was that a run only took three minutes, and that's with the deep-frequency sine function that is my pattern.

Also, Mike Garvey can fucking ski.

A drink and smoke

The latest meme.

"Here’s the next meme for everyone, as long as you get it before someone else with your name does. Type in your first name and the word “needs” into Google. Post the first 10 results, plus a few other interesting ones."

Alex needs feedback.
Alex needs a history lesson
Alex needs confirmation
All Alex needs is time and weed to play-test through levels 10 though 15.
Alex needs to do something--and quickly.
Do you know what Alex needs? What Alex needs is a new job.
Alex needs to stop obsessing over this guy, its like he wants to date him.
alex needs to go to sleep on his own
Alex needs to come back, because the show sucks without her.
Sir Alex needs to stop messing about and stick with the 4-4-2.
Clearly, Alex needs romantic relief.
Alex needs a room for some big games.
ALEX NEEDS MORE THAN FISHING TACKLE TO CATCH THE BIG ONES

In Soviet Buffalo, People Lead YOU!

I spent two out of the last three days at a leadership training thing. You know, get- your- team- across- to- the- other- platform- using- a- plank- and- two- pipe- cleaners stuff. As you can imagine, the Chief/Indian ratio was highly skewed, which made for some memorable conversations.

The entire event was glutted with Communist overtones. The activities, even the competitive ones, were carefully orchestrated to ensure that resolution could only be attained if everyone worked together. Of course, all had to be involved equally in every activity and assigned some task that they had the stated or perceived skill to handle.

The final event, in short, was a tower build-off. Having cracked the system, the two teams joined into one to build a single super-big tower, despite my assertions that the assigned task stated two were necessary. I contributed my ideas on how to organize etc, but having had enough of competition, conflict, and petri-dish platitudes to hold me for quite some time, I slunk into the background, happy to quietly fulfill my role as Tall- Guy- with- Small- Girl- on- Shoulders. As the tower was erected, another guy about my height and I hoisted the appointed women, each holding their half of the joint structure. There was cheering. Pictures were taken.

During the debriefing, as discussion was led towards concepts of how this activity was supposed to be representative of the efforts of the community leaders towards a better city and region, I couldn't help but push aside the hammers and sickles dancing in my head and note that the group was only successful when the big people held the small ones on their shoulders, supporting the entire structure.

I must agree

Dude. Somebody got to my blog by googling "werewolves suck".

The Wayback Machine

The Noid. The old Dominos Pizza ad campaign. I need some help here.

Wasn't the genesis of the little red-suited dude a pun? "If your pizza is cold, you get a Noid (annoyed)"? Am I alone in remembering this? I checked Retrojunk's commerical archive, and all of the Noid-related entries refer to the Noid in the singular, not as a species of Italian-food gremlins that attack all pizzas but those delivered in the red and blue boxes.

Be Prepared

A few friends of mine have picked up these Scottevest jackets with lots of pockets. As I prefer to keep things simple, I never really saw myself going for one. After my wild evening of hot, wanton geekness, though, they're looking better and better. I share with you now, gentle reader, the contents of this nights pockets:

Wallet - Even though 'anime night' at the Albright Knox was supposed to be free, a gentleman never travels without folding money.

Keys - I left the USB drive at home. You know, because only geeks carry those things.

Handkerchief - Oh, shut up. They come in handy more often than you think.

Cellphone - (Well, Tracfone anyway.) Lil' Davey has been known to get confused, so best to keep communication lines open.

Pager - see above

Cigarettes and lighter - Tromping around the perimeter of the museum looking for an open entrance would have been an excellent time to light up. I opted against it, for once.

Digital camera - Just in case something picture-worthy happened. Like Jess and Lil' Davey singing a duet of the theme from Record of Lodoss War at Cosplay Karaoke in Clifton Hall. Alas, it went unused.

Chapstick - Yapping about Japanese import websites will dry those lips, I tell you.

Nintendo DS - Why waste a beautiful night inside playing videogames when you can be sitting on the patio at SPoT Coffee playing videogames? (By the way, Lil' Davey is very, very good at Mario Kart. I retract all smack-talk.)

Now, if I had one of those Scottevests, I would have been able to carry the copy of The Last Unicorn which changed hands this evening in one of the larger pockets. Another would have held the Wes Craven almost-straight-to-DVD movie we rented. And I don't even have an MP3 player.

Control freak

Having 3 systems hooked up to the TV at any given time (and two others at the ready) makes for one big ugly pile of controllers* in the converted entertainment center that holds the lot. When arranged neatly, the appearance is somewhere between sleeping scarabs and a tightly-packed hangar of alien spaceships -- either metaphor lending the image of small, highly active things caught in a moment of rest. I'd like to free that space for yet another system, but what to do with the birds nest?

The best I can come up with as of yet is some kind of trundle-board which would stay under the couch. Pull out the drawer and choose your weapon. Ideally it would have the gray egg-foam stuff spies and assassins line their briefcases with.

*4 N64, 2 Atari, 4 PS2, 3 Xbox. Pristine Atari paddles and horribly scarred NES controllers in the basement, waiting to be recalled into active duty. I gave my lightgun away, idiot that I am.

Zoom zoom

Received a welcome surprise yesterday upon watching the recent sci-fi release The Island. Not only is the movie good (the car chase was exciting enough to make me, sitting at home with the lights on viewing the film on my 21" TV, gasp several times) but it features the Cadillac Cien, a concept car I just happen to have in my garage.

Picking the cars for sci-fi movies must be a blast. Sure, the hero is going to have to drive a slicked-down version of the latest sports car from whatever automaker pays the most, but what about all the other ones? Do you use current models with small changes? Do you design all new vehicles based on a few design concepts? Can they fly? Hover?

Flavor Country

I don't want to worry anybody, but apparently Phillips Morris and I are on close enough terms that I merit a birthday present.

101

I read The Lion, the Witch, and the Wardrobe as a kid, completely oblivious to the Christian overtones. Years later, someone made casual mention of it and the whole series reset itself in my mind as "Lord of the Rings for kids and with Jesus". It was not until seeing the movie that I really took in the more complex themes relating to war and dictatorship.

It's pretty clear that the cinematic version wanted to highlight the warfare aspect as much as possible. The first two scenes, depicting zee Churmens bombing suburban London and kids being shipped out to the country with labels on their chests to identify them to the strangers who will act as their new stewards, extrapolate the time-and-place setting which was identified in the book in a single sentence, seeming in the text more of an inconvenience than actual danger. Was this the kind of anti-war statement that seems to be popping up more often in recent movies (Episode III, War of the Worlds), or was it just added for effect? Couldn't tell ya.

Anyway, the final battle between the big WETA-garbed forces of Narnia was kicked off by griffins dropping rocks on the bad-guy army, the imagery directly parallelling the shots of the German bombers at the beginning of the movie. The Nazis and the forces of Aslan compared? Not as black-and-white as you would expect from a kid's movie.

The Thomas character is disturbing for more than one reason. Firstly, here's this bare-chested demi-god whose kind is known for promiscuity and deviance making friends with a six-year-old. Creeptastic. More interesting, though, is his decision to free Lucy and the repercussions of that choice. His sense of rightness and his fear of the Secret Police battle within him, and when he picks the former, he pays the price.

Thomas's story reads like something out of Nepal or Iraq, and it isn't the only instance in the movie which reminded me of modern stories of life under a fascist dictator or oppressive occupying force. The fox (who died despite Edmund's efforts to placate the Witch), the beavers (who escape the Secret Police via a tunnel dug from their home, only to find their safehouse captured), and the White Witch's treatment of Edmund (promising him power and delight until his usefulness wore out) might as well have been plucked directly from the pages of a 1930-to-today history text. The moral here is that when a powerful and cruel government is in place, your actions, right or wrong, have absolutely no influence on your life or the lives of those you care for. Apparently all you can do is wait for Jesus to come back.

While I enjoyed the movie, I found these themes depressing and unresolved. I'd be curious to go back and read the book to see just how much of this was inlaid over the text and how much is from the source. If I do, I'll keep you posted. After all, I know you're just dying to read another freshman English essay here on B A Start.

Kills for the Cure?

I got the go-ahead for the employee videogame tourney. I need some help coming up with a name for the event. Best I've come up with so far is "Extra Life". Anybody?

Wrenches and top hats

Want to see the difference between liberals and conservatives? I have been eating lunch with Slazak for years now. Someone joined us yesterday, and when asked by a passer-by why we were breaking years of tradition by allowing a third at our table, Matt replied "we're taking in orphans" and I said "we're recruiting".

To All

Frag for Cancer

I think I may have convinced my workplace to hold an employee Halo 2 tournament as a fundraiser today. As you may remember, I've been trying to get a game going on one of the big-big screens for a while now. Only recently has the concept of making a real event out of it come about. With any luck, Microsoft or Bungie will hook us up with some prizes. It doesn't matter either way, though -- the title of King Geek should be enough motivation to get attendance. Further updates as events warrant.

The Most Wonderful Time

There's a turkey on my kitchen floor. It will be there all week.

Tomorrow I'm giving chocolates to the woman I drew in Secret Santa. When asked for gift ideas, she suggested world peace exclamation point.

If pushed, I would describe the general tenor of all recent phone conversations as 'strained' at best.

It is definitely too late for me to get gifts to my brothers in time for Sunday, even if I was sure of their current addresses. Every day this week I will check the mail with apprehension, hoping that neither of them got me anything. I'm fairly certain I can count on them for this.

I wish I could put my finger on how to spread tidings of comfort / joy to my coworkers without looking like either a conserva-fascist who refuses to bend with the times or a media-brainwashed wuss who's too afraid to call the day off what it really is.

Despite itself, I do genuinely enjoy Christmas.

Screw you hippie!

Almost got run over by some jerk leaving the Lexington Co-op parking lot. And they say weed doesn't make you stupid.

Let's Get Together

I went to a seminar today in which, among other things, the trainer stated that Generation-X'ers don't like to work in groups because we're all latch-key children who came home to empty houses and played Nintendo. As the only representative of the under-40 crowd in attendance, I decided to hold my tongue. My thoughts on the root causes of the apathy and indolence of Gen-X aside, I have to confess that I was baffled by the Nintendo being cited as an anti-socializer. I don't remember ever playing videogames by myself as a kid. I remember my brothers watching me crawl my way through Final Fantasy, my father spending entire weekends burning every tree and bombing every rock in The Legend of Zelda as we logged his progress, my friends and I mastering the intricacies of Pro Wrestling and RC Pro Am. For my sixteenth birthday my parents bought me a 12-inch TV for my bedroom, so my brothers just watched my run through Lifeforce there instead.

Lies! Lies I say!

Elmer Season!

There are men in the hills here, men with guns. Along the highways, pickup trucks bedecked with yellow-ribbon magnets have been left like rusty snake-skins as their owners prowl the snowy forests for the unlucky bucks who will secure their places at the Men's Table at all social events until next year. I'm hoping the dim, orange light of a cigarette in no way resembles moonlight in a deer's eye.

The King is Dead

The blogs giveth and the blogs taketh away. With the temporary sabbatical (is that an oxymoron?) of Royal Toybox, the web world has offered up Dad May Have Been Right. Get over there, you content-hungry freak.

Brilliant!

I was sick a couple days ago. As the day wore on, the question of whether I was feeling well enough to go to the bar came up. Fully aware that Her Worship's sanity's edges were starting to fray a bit from seeing no one for five days other that Yours Truly and a reportedly handsome plumber, I felt the risk/benefit analysis tipping toward a night out. Still I waffled, knowing that I should stay home and watch bad TV under a blanket. Eventually, a very old marketing campaign found its way to the front of my consciousness: Guinness is good for you!

Several hours and two pints of the black stuff later, I was right as the mail. Obviously, the only conclusion possible is that the adage, first revealed to me in 1986 on a postcard sent to my grandmother which now hangs on my refrigerator, is indeed true.

Follow-up

If the last post wasn't cloudy enough, check this out.

Except flight

Download this and play it. Especially if you don't play videogames with any regularity. So... chill...

Who are you?

It took me a while, but as promised I am back on the topic of identity and anonymity in the modern digital world.

Made-up factoid: the average American visits a new website and creates a new log-on and password for himself once every four days. I have lost count of the number of websites which have asked me the apparently innocuous question of what I want my log-on name to be. It's maddening, the constant requirement to define myself. What do you choose? The name your parents gave you? An old nickname? A reference to something you're all geek about? What you want to be? What you want others to think you are? As if defining oneself in the anarchistic vacuum we know as modern life wasn't difficult enough.

And Hell's coming with me

Here's a follow-up to the recent business about intelligent design. Since I do truly believe that the rounding-up and 're-education' of non-Jesus-freaks is becoming more and more likely, I feel like I should skip town. My fanaticism for the US, on the other hand, dictates that I should move to the bible belt and start a life of vigilante rationality. Which will I choose?

I think I may stage a Constantinian mass conversion. I'll go Protestant, get elected President, go to war, and then receive a vision from the spirit of Newton which will tell me that I will win the battle through the mighty influence of the mysterious and sacred powers of physics.

And now it's ok.

Geek pride continuously surprises me. How did we get to this point, the point at which reveling in one's social ineptitude has become a viable social action? This product in particular I find amazing. Hilarious, but amazing.

A direct relationship can be drawn between the broad acceptance of the Geek Nation and the realization of Uncle Bill's dream of a personal computer in every home. All of a sudden these kids have a purpose in their families. Computer acting up? Call Mikey. Thus a place in modern society, and thus respect and endorsement.

I want to know what the hell geeks did before computers went mainstream. I know they read Dune. Ham radio? Model railroads? What did groups of geeks do before the Playstation? Chess club?

It's a flip-off!

Don't miss the hot flipbook action over at outgrabes. I recommend John Williams with mine.

Terminus

Now that was one crappy week.

Here are my New Week's Resolutions:

• Actually take Wednesday and Friday off, as scheduled.
• Get fairly drunk at some point, preferably not in front of family. But only preferably.
• Buy some Christmas presents. 'Tis the season to take one look at the mall's parking situation and gain true understanding of the value of the internet.
  
• Don't ruin Thanksgiving for everyone.
  

Thank you Slashfilm.

What are you doing here? Go watch one of these.

Spitcurl

Looks like Jess has done it again. Get over there and check out the latest debate. Oh, and Hoffmann? I laughed out loud. Twice.

Justin Bailey

When Metroid came out, my father complained that Nintendo had missed a great opportunity for making games educational. He suggested that instead of the apparently random mish-mash of numbers and letters that made up the passwords for the game, they could have set it up so every digit in a long-division problem would need to be entered.

Fast-forward fifteen years, and the Nintendo DS has a brain training "game". As near as I can tell, it's a set of daily exercises that are meant to make sure you use all parts of the gray matter. The story on IGN does a pretty good job of explaining it.

And here's the weird thing: it looks kinda fun.

Xbox360: Hands-on Review

A fraction of second after grabbing the controller, some dude appeared out of nowhere to tell me that he had seen it at CompUSA, and that it was awesome. He didn't leave. A few seconds later, a ten-year-old sidled up, grinning sweetly. I got the distinct feeling that this was a angel-on-one-shoulder-devil-on-the-other situation, but in the place of miniature versions of myself dressed in white and red were two different facets of my gamer id, one a black-wearing, soul-patch-sporting, turbo-geek with no social skills, the other a bespectacled child too shy to speak. I left abruptly.

Forward thinking

Go check out today's outgrabes post, and the many responses -- the people have spoken. The good news is, the Northeast remains sane.

Lasers Temple

Seventeen seconds? Seriously?

I know a substantial number of B A Starters have spent altogether too many hours trying to ulock all the cheats in Goldeneye. Dizzying runs done over and over ruined many a sunny summer afternoon for us all, but these guys? Holy shmoley.

Come on down

Has anyone else noticed that the font used in the much-maligned Grand Theft Auto series is the same as the one used for The Price Is Right?

Looks uncomfortable

I'm all for unusual controllers. This, though, seems a bit much. Not that I can't think of at least one person for whom this would be a great gift.

Betcha can't have just one

Apparently I was in two places at once it work today. This is bothersome on many levels, especially since it was not my doing. Certain Catholic saints were purported to be able to do this, but I would assume they knew about it. I, on the other hand, appear to have a doppelganger. Is the other one evil? Or am I the evil one? I'm very curious to see what will happen when we meet. The worst possible scenario is that the other me is the real one. Further updates as events warrant.

Until they're squeaky clean

So, I've been trying to get the projector-and-laptop guy at work to set up an Xbox night in the auditorium. He keeps telling me to put in an AV request. What am I, some kind of chump? I need to put in a request to use company property for personal entertainment? I go right to the source and I get sent back to the Red-tape Highway? So, I guess I've been put in my place. Once I do finally convince him to take some initiative and make it happen, I'll be sure to remind him who's boss as I repeatedly mop the floors of alien ships with his carcass.

Get a job

Took a day off and took the kids out shopping today. The 9-to-5 cityscape weirds me out every time. Everyone on the street has the look of a person who doesn't spend enough time in conversation with other functioning members of society. I do not belong among the daytime denizens of this mirror-city, and they know it. Each time I venture out into their territory -- lands which are the demesne of me and mine at night -- I fear they will suddenly and without warning take arms against me, sparing a few moments to beat me to death with their hands, and then return to their odd, highly-regimented daily routines with the same speed and non-chalance as my blood seeps into the sun-lit asphault.

Not possible.

This drives me crazy. How? How?!? HOW?!?! HOW, GOD DAMN IT, HAAAAAAAAAAAA-OHHH-OOOOO?

No help

Apparently there comes a point in one's career past which people care about what you do outside of work. Associations, volunteer organizations, and whatnot. Not really my bag, which may become a problem fairly quickly. Here's an example of why I am not destined for any board rooms:

The setting -- my porch. A co-worker walks by as some friends and I carouse.

Professional young woman: I have a JLA meeting tomorrow.
Alex: You're in the Justice League of America?!?
PYW: That's what my husband said. It's the Junior League, a women's community organization.
Alex: Huh. Is there a Senior League? Is it all men?
PYW: I'm going to go home and go to bed. Work tomorrow.
Alex: I'm going to continue drinking on my porch. Work tomorrow.

nine years

Her Worshipfulness's cousin has invaded, and the occupation forces are strong. I called for reinforcements last night, under the auspices of wanting to give her a choice of men to glean attention from. I have fears for today's plans, and here's why:

HW: So, we can drop you off any time you want.
Cousin: Oh, don't worry. I'm in no rush.

No...

Holy shit! Snow Crash is on Time's 100 best novels of all time!

I read this book after my roommate's copy of Entertainment Weekly (which he never subscribed to, nor paid for, but presumably still receives to this day) said Cryptonomicon was going to be good. T'wasn't out yet, so I picked up Snow Crash. 100% awesome. I'd lend you my copy, but some other member of the Geek Nation has it. I think.

I'm so excited, I'm adding a new button.

fingers crossed

I think this confirmation is the final one. My favorite part -- "a younger character with no gadgets". Here's hoping they can dispense with the camp and make 007 worth watching again.

Never happen

Another excellent wedding this weekend.

At the aforementioned wedding, I asked a friend and his girlfriend how their recently purchased Playstation 2 has been working out. I was perfunctorily told that they have been playing Tiger Woods, and then heard a sentence I had never thought I would:

Ashley: "Chris made me a player."

Someone had finally done it. Someone had broken down decades of resistance and convinced his girl to play videogames.

Alex: "Really? That's great! I can't believe it!"
Ashley: "I've got a skort."

Hmm... so, she plays videogames in a skort? (I'm inferring from the horizontal slashing motion she made mid-thigh and the spork-like term that this word is meant to describe an article of clothing that's somehow both a skirt and pair of shorts. Feel free to write in if I'm wrong). Do gamer girls wear skorts? Did these two go to Hot Topic and say "give me everything that geek chicks wear"? Had they taken it that far? In mind appeared a vision of Ashley in a plaid skirt (I still can't figure out what a skort would look like. Something like one hand clapping, I think), black boots, and an anime T-shirt sitting in Chris's living-room mashing buttons.

Alex: "Did he buy you a pink tanktop that says "gamer" or something?
Ashley (befuddled look): "In the game. In Tiger Woods. My player wears a skort."
Alex: "Uh... heh-heh. Who needs a drink?"

Testy

I love me some language. I don't think any B A Starters will be surprised to hear that I got several 'Very strongly biased toward the Northeast United States' responses on this test.

Whew!

The Resistance Achtung! You are 30% brainwashworthy, 22% antitolerant, and 80% blindly patriotic

Welcome to the Resistance (Der Widerstand)! You believe in freedom, justice, equality, and your country, and you can't be converted to the the dark side. Breakdown: your Blind Patriotism levels are borderline unhealthy, but you show such a love of people from everywhere and a natural resistance to brainwashing, you would probably focus your energy to fight the Fuehrer with furor, so to speak. Conclusion: born and raised in Germany in the early 1930's, you would have taken up ARMS against the oppressors. Or even your friends' oppressors. Congratulations! Less than 5% of all test takers earn a spot in the Resistance! The Would You Have Been A Nazi? Test - it rules -

My test tracked 3 variables How you compared to other people your age and gender: You scored higher than 33% on brainwashworthy You scored higher than 25% on antitolerant You scored higher than 94% on patriotic

Link: The Would You Have Been a Nazi Test written by jason_bateman on Ok Cupid, home of the 32-Type Dating Test

Not safe

The funny thing is, they found this dog...

So, they found the real Ithaca. I didn't know the current Ithaca wasn't the real Ithaca. I guess that adds another stop to the Geek Tour of the Mediterranean.

PSA

Don't forget: Fall is the season of pumpkin ice-cream. Schedule some consumption before you forget and miss it again.

Why is he dressed like Castro?

A very uncomfortable-sounding web guy was just on 102.1 talking about the new B-Stream section on edge.ca. Once I realized he wasn't saying "pee stream", things became clearer. Looks like they've got some streaming music going on, and that users, edge staff, and a few celebrities have the ability to submit playlists. It's acting like a streaming radio station right now, with no option to skip or select, but I recommend a look. I'd like to at least be able to select which playlist I want -- for example, I want to listen to what k-os posted -- but all in all it's worth keeping an eye on. After all, The Edge is awesome. Not as awesome as The Edge, but then what is?

The Hardest

As you can see, I've gone a little button crazy. Something about 'em I just like. They're a webgeek version of the bars military personnel wear. Want your own? Go here:

Rock out

In an effort to avoid having an ice cavern for an apartment this year, we did some work today with the desperately needed assistance of the in-laws. In short, we prepped the windows against one Johnathan Frost. Endless caulk jokes. Endless caulk jokes... with my father-in-law. Somehow I survived, but probably only since he knew that if he brained me with mallet he would end up having to rehang the curtains.

Hello, Oogie.

Ran into one of the IT guys today, the guardian of the Secret Elephant Graveyard, the one who looks like Kamajii but with fewer arms and talks like an ent. He was standing in the men's room, staring into the mirror and rubbing his beard. I impart to you, gentle reader, this summarized transcript of the conversation which started there and continued into the hallway.

Alex: Given up on pulling out your hair and moved on to the beard?

Kamajii: Nah, just plucking the bugs out.

A: Fun.

K: Sometimes I think I should just give up. Just pick 'em off the ground and stick 'em in my beard. Save 'em the trouble.

A: Totally, dude. You should embrace it. You should teach them to do stuff. Like the flea circus in old cartoons.

K: Make them do my bidding. Get into small places.

A: Freak people out.

K: But then the Orkin man would come after me.

A: You could walk into the Pentagon and say "check this shit out". Apply your powers for the common good. Wear a cloak and stuff.

K: They'd strap me down and do all kinds of experiments on me.

A: If they try it, sic the bugs on 'em.

Over 9000

Just how much is a proud man willing to debase himself in order to win an Xbox 360 from Mountain Dew?

• Start occasionally buying Pepsi at work, even though it sucks? Yes.
• Plan on replacing the normal household purchase of Coke with Pepsi from 10/2/05 through 10/22/05 (or while supplies last), in order to receive the specially marked sticker worth three codes? Yes.
• Convince coworkers to give him their bottlecaps? Yes.
• Ask the Housekeeping folks to glean the caps from the discarded Pepsi products of the workplace? No.
• Take a bottlecap off of an empty bottle left on top of a trash can in the cafeteria? Yes.
• Take a bottlecap off of the ground on Elmwood? No.
• Spot an empty bottle, insist that the car be stopped, jump out and grab the cap? No.

I'm not proud of it, but I'm not hiding anything either.

8 @ 57@r7

A coworker of mine got a new phone extension --1337. As we all know, this totally pwns.

For those of you not disgustingly geek-assed enough to know what I'm talking about, this is leetspeak (or "13375p34k"), the odd twisting of the English language used by online gamers. I recommend the wikipedia entry on the topic for a good summary of the major points. Anytime you see numbers used instead of letters in the middle of a word, the suffix "-xors" added to a word for no reason, and other such nonsense, back slowly away until you can feel functioning society around you again.

From a linguistic standpoint, leetspeak fascinates me, particularly its prevalence and standardization. How can so many people use the same made-up rules in the same way? I understand why a secretive "language" or code system would be used by girl-phobic basement-dwellers as they bop around pretending to be elves. It's a step above jargon, intentionally meant to conceal and confuse, that only the insiders can interpret or often even recognize. This is geek perfection.

That being said, do not ever use leet in conversation with me. I will smack you, y0u 0v3rc4ff3'n473d w4ck0.

Grrr...

I do my best to avoid acting in anger. Maybe it's because I'm from puritanical New England, maybe it's because I watched too much Star Wars as a kid, I don't know. I'm certainly not always successful, but that's what I try to adhere to.

My question is this: is anger useful? Can anger be used to strengthen good actions? It's certainly a good way to get a boost of energy, but is it more destructive in the end? Unfettered, anger will make one lose focus and make mistakes. Can it be fettered? Can a controlled anger yield positive results?

Flippy

Not entirely sure why you would buy Zoo Keeper for the NDS, when you can play it for free all over the net, and have been able to for years. And anyway, I thought the DS was only for Nintendogs.

That's a bad outfit!

The new Superman movie is going to be bad. I need to keep reminding myself of this. The first one is bad, and that has Christopher Frackin' Reeve.

The thing is, I've been so Pavlovved by the theme music that they could play a test pattern and I'd love it. There's a fake teaser trailer out there, and I barely made it through that in one piece -- I can't imagine what a mess I'm going to be at the end of the full feature-length film.

The problem is as follows. For reasons unbeknownst to me, Superman holds great power over me. There are only two things that can elicit a strong positive emotional response from me: the American national anthem and Superman. Apparently I have a serious feelings about the strongest thing on Earth using its powers for good.

Even I

I have a blog. That means I have to write about Katrina, right?

I have a request. Please stop using this horrific tragedy as an example of your political agenda. Stop snorting and saying "typical". Whether you're a member of the Bush Defamation League, you don't like people whose skin has more or less brown than yours, you're anti-gun, or whatever the hell you're trying to prove, I'm tired of it. People are dying and other people are trying to help them. That's it.


Here are some selections from CNN.com's timeline of the events.

August 26th

• 4 p.m.: Mississippi Gov. Haley Barbour and Louisiana Gov. Kathleen Blanco declare states of emergency.


August 27th

• During the day, residents of Louisiana's low-lying areas are told they must evacuate; residents in other low-lying areas are urgently advised to do so. President Bush declares a state of emergency in Louisiana.


August 28th

• 10 a.m.: As Katrina hits 175 mph winds, New Orleans Mayor Ray Nagin orders mandatory evacuations as the storm seems to beat a direct path to the city.


August 29th

Katrina hits.


August 30th

• The U.S. military starts to move ships and helicopters to the region at the request of the Federal Emergency Management Agency.


August 31

• President Bush flies over the Gulf Coast in Air Force One to survey the damage. He later announces a major federal mobilization to help the victims.


September 1

• Violence disrupts relief efforts as authorities rescue trapped residents and try to evacuate thousands of others living among corpses and human waste. Those stranded express growing frustration with the disorder evident on the streets, raising questions about the coordination and timeliness of relief efforts.

• Homeland Security Secretary Michael Chertoff announces that 4,200 National Guard troops trained as military police will be deployed to New Orleans over the next three days. Louisiana Gov. Kathleen Blanco requests the mobilization of 40,000 National Guard troops.


September 2

• President Bush visits Alabama, Mississippi and Louisiana, and later signs a $10.5 billion disaster relief bill.

• Members of the Congressional Black Caucus criticize the pace of relief efforts, saying response was slow because those most affected are poor.


September 3rd

• The Army Corps of Engineers brings in pumps and generators from around the nation to help get New Orleans pumps back on line and bail out the city.


Now, I don't really have anything to compare the timeliness of the federal response to. Maybe the people who are making claims that the goverment should have responded more quickly know more about these things than I do, but I'm not sure I buy that it could have been faster.

Yes, people have guns. Yes, people who are very hungry and very upset have guns. And yes, there have been incidents of some people shooting at the people who are trying to help. This is very, very messed up. This does not mean that we should abandon anyone, or that anything even remotely resembling a majority of victims do not deserve help. We should not succumb to the temptation to group the victims together based on the actions of a few crazed jerks.

And that's all I've got.

Dollface

Japanese people are weird. If you don't believe me, go check this out. Jesus.

Not pictured

I just received some pictures from my Mom. One of them is of one of my brothers, this one being The Dark Lord of Darkness. How dark is he, you ask? In the picture, he is wearing a T-shirt which reads "I'm only wearing black until they make something darker".

The picture is of him opening his birthday present, a green striped polo shirt. Come on, Mom.