It seems the only times I am truly motivated to write up a post here is when being accosted by some kind of virus or disease. This may be a function of me generally not having anything of interest to say (which is wildly plausible) or because when sick I can’t do much of anything fucking else.
In recent times, both this winter and last, I have had an alarming frequency of various illnesses. Last winter it presented as a cold that basically refused to fully go away. This year it seems to be a mysterious unknown infection that refuses to go away. I have vehemently upheld the position that my immune system is indeed intact and working, as I get enough comments from friends asking why my body works much like a six-year-old girls might. I try to stay strong and defend the argument that I am not, in fact, a big pussy. But that stance is becoming more difficult to support.
This year is no different in that I have been “sick” 3 times in the last month and a half or so. Normally this would sound alarming, but after the third such occurrance and the symptoms of each being identical to one another, it seems far more likely I’m dealing with some kind of persistent singular infection than repeat diverse offenders.
The only discouraging part of this whole thing - well maybe not the “only” considering being sick every few weeks is pretty god damn discouraging - is that the visits to my doctor have not boosted confidence or reassurance. The first time I was stricken, I did nothing. No visit to the physican, waited it out, two days later, healthy. Second time, thought it might be best to get a doctor involved. Prescribed antibiotics for an unknown ailment, two days later, healthy. Third time, once again sought out the medical expertise of someone with a fucking degree in the subject, still unsure of cause. Best guess at the moment is Strep. The problem being is every test I’ve taken for Strep (which as of right now is twice) has come back negative.
All I do know is my white blood cell count is through the roof and I feel like shit. So I guess regardless of the cause, it seems clear my body is fighting off some kind of microscopic intruder. I’m hoping my check-up appointment today might reveal more to this little mystery. At least I hope it does because getting sick again in two weeks would really seal the opinion that my demise is imminent.
It seems I’ve had a busy, as well as extended (albeit not by choice), weekend. I’ll elaborate further.
Friday night was a long awaited concert I was excited about attending. Enduring the harsh climate to make my way down to the Xcel Energy Center to see Trivium, Coheed and Cambria, and Slipknot perform. Out of the acts present that night, I was most looking forward to seeing Coheed. I’ve seen Coheed once before when they headlined a smaller venue a number of months ago. As an opening act, I knew that my time with them would be limited but I find them excellent musicians and always embrace the opportunity.
I was a little worried however. Mostly because of the other two bands on the bill. Without getting into needless classification, one could put Slipknot and Trivium into the Metal bucket. Coheed on the other hand is a little more elusive in their home genre. What I do know is I would not lump them in with the other two bands. This created a little apprehension as I was unsure how the fans of the other two bands would react to Coheed’s performance.
As much as I love the genre of “Metal”, I tend to hate every single fucker at any metal show I go to. “Why?” you might ask. Well, they are typically indeed fuckers. Through the use of mass stereotyping, “metalheads”, in my mind, tend to represent a sub-class of human being. Loud, ignorant, repulsive and violent. An archetype of person who is not especially adept at accepting new and unfamiliar things into their collective conscience. Luckily, my fears were not fully realized. The crowd was more indifferent than anything, although I think a young concert-goer did throw something at Coheed mid-performance. Ultimately, I believe the show was a success and I enjoyed myself. Lower level, 8th row is difficult to beat.
Saturday I spent my evening with a few coworkers playing a little Guitar Hero World Tour and Rock Band 2. World Tour was a new experience for me as I had not played it previous to Saturday. I have always found GH’s handle of interface and specifically faux guitar integration relaxing and easily accessible. But how does it fair on a whole band front? I think it scored quite highly. It was more a case of trying to overcome my dependence on Rock Band hardware. Although both are similar, they do have distinct qualities that make them their own. Most notably, the drums.
I especially enjoyed the song selection available. While Rock Band 2 (in combination with imported Rock Band 1 tracks) has far more songs to choose from, I felt a slightly closer connection to the World Tour choices. This is just a personal preference as my musical tastes seem to more readily align with what World Tour has on tap. They have 3 Tool songs. I need not say more.
This leads me into Sunday (and subsequently today). Apparently the few hours I spent at my coworkers on Saturday was long enough exposure to contract some kind of deadly ailment. I use the term deadly because I have a penchant for overstating facts. It has felt like the usual precursor to a run-of-the-mill cold infection. The difference being I am beginning to feel better without experiencing any further symptoms. So, what is currently ravaging my body is unknown. If all goes well, I will never know. Perhaps two days of aches and pains and chills throughout the entirety of my body is punishment for attempting to enjoy myself the other two days of the weekend. Hard to tell.
We shall see what tomorrow brings in terms of health. I’m not morally opposed to remaining home for another day. Missing work is something I will gladly do when the opportunity presents itself. But, I suppose, at the end of the day, I would prefer to be in good health rather than bad. Even if bad health gives me a chance to catch up on my backlog of anime and Stargate SG1 episodes.
I hope to be in higher spirits tomorrow. I blame the current forecast for my condition. This winter seems to be particularily frigid and it’s beginning to gnaw away at my sanity (what little remains). With that, I am going to return to my bed tightly wrapped under the sheets where I can dream of warmer days and less achy bodies. Peace.
If you aren’t excited for the film adaptation of Alan Moore’s Watchmen, then you are either horribly unawares of just how phenomenal the graphic novel is, or you have no taste whatsoever. While Moore is reportedly a grade-A douchebag about adaptations, and purportedly rebuked V for Vendetta (can you tell I’m defensive), I’m anticipating Zack Snyder’s translation to do for Moore what 300 did for Frank Miller: make him a household name.
After seeing trailers laden with the trademark slo-mo goodness and heavy Smashing Pumpkins in the background, I decided it was time to grow my catalogue of exposure to adult-themed comics. I say that as a fan and supporter of other comics, especially to the extent that they typically do not patronize children by oversimplifying or prettying-up the message. However, I don’t remember Superman ever having a ménage à trois with Lois Lane.
The graphic novel is more than just a shocking read, although I would imagine it was just that in 1986 when compared with most other literature of its kind. The story is inventive, unique, reflective, suggestive, charitable, even-handed, and absurdly realistic. Every character has their strengths, but what makes them three-dimensional and exceedingly interesting is their weaknesses. The omnipotent demi-god who is impotent against fate, the patriotic hero who happens to be a misogynist rapist, the relentless and demented detective who fights against his own shame and bizarre sexual issues—all contribute to the psychotic, yet plausible narrative of a world where superheroes are really just concerned citizens who put on an outfit.
What impressed me most about the book is the naked honesty with which it delves into the various psyches of the comic book archetypes. What would compel a being with limitless powers and no particular attachments to protect a world of creatures no more significant than microbes are to us? How could a vigilante driven purely by revenge reconcile the gray areas of morality in order to tell friend from foe? How does a superhero cope with aging and insignificance? How does society deal with beings that give it great strength, yet simultaneously cripple it? I guess you’ll have to read and find out for yourself.
I took it upon myself to upgrade the version of WordPress we were using here on CL. The admin interface seems to be luxuriously updated. This of course also brings about a little confusion into functionality and use, but with a some time I’m sure I can figure it out. I also want to update the look and feel of the site eventually at some point. I might start fucking around with options and themes and see what comes out. This means either I’ll make the site unavailable for a while or just let you see the horrible choices made behind the scenes. We shall see.
Hello friends (not sure who I’m addressing exactly). It has been a long time since I have spent any time here. I would apologize for this egregious act but I will in all likelihood do so again at first opportunity.
Much has happened over the past couple months. Well, not “much” per se, but “stuff” for sure. This is certain. Cas came into town alond with the Mistress and we were able to enjoy some quality buddy time. We only get to join in this fashion a couple times a year now, so when we get the chance we do not let it go to waste. Rejoicing followed. Which in turn was followed by drinking.
I blame a certain level of my absense on the weather currently inhabiting this state. I use the world “inhabiting” because it feels as if the climate is inside me; beating my will into submission and using me for its own perverse ends. Just to give a small glimpse into the world that I reside, the temperature is at this point negative eighteen degrees. That’s cold. Actually, that isn’t cold. It isn’t even weather. It’s imaginary. It’s a fairytale inside of a young child’s subconscious. You tell a five-year-old that it’s negative eighteen outside and they say “you made that up”. I wish.
Other than the forced hibernation, I have been spending most of my time completely and hopelessly consumed by Stargate SG-1. Eating through season after season like some inmate’s last meal. Luckily for me, there is not a shortage of sustenance. With ten complete seasons and the series ending on the tenth, I have all the episodes I need to sustain myself through this frigid “season”.
When I’m not watching Stargate - which is not often - that conniving temptress, World of Warcraft, still has a veritable kung-fu grip on my soul. I suppose it is fair to concede I do enjoy playing. I don’t believe I would if I didn’t. But, it still feels like some part of me is being trickets into thinking I like it. Perhaps a spell I have yet to learn. I’m making my way through the harsh, unforgiving terrain of Northrend - almost entirely too ironically like my own fucking backyard. It will probably take me quite a bit to make my way through all the new content and reach the pinnacle of level 80. Even then, my time will be submerged in other functions such as gathering, crafting, grinding, or raiding. If you play at all, you know of what I speak. I can’t wait.
I may regret saying this immediately after typing it, but I would like to dedicate more time to this. The year has begun anew and with it perhaps a renewed sense of purpose or motivation. I can always bundle it up into my New Year’s resolution. ”Post more on my blog”. Is that as lame as it sounds? Probably.
A couple things before I disappear back into the abyss. I have disabled the forums for now and possibly permanently. They weren’t really being used for anything susbstantial and I don’t know how many more alerts I need about Cialis or Viagra and how cheap I can get it. Also, I have added a new link to the blogroll. It’s my Twitter! That’s right, now you can keep up with my daily tedium in real time! If you have it, feel free to “follow” me. If not, totally sign up.
That’s all I’ve got for now. Trying to catch up in terms of blogging can really make for a disjointed, unfocused post. I hope to be back again with a more sharpened mind. Peace. P.S. I hate MSWord.
If you have never played the bawdy, off-color excellence that is Toonstruck, I suggest you give this classic a try. It will be difficult to finagle getting it to work on newer versions of Windows, but the rewards make the effort worthwhile.
For a quick plot summary, cartoonist Drew Blanc (Christopher Lloyd) is on a heavy deadline to create new characters for the Fluffy Fluffy Bun Bun Show before his sadistic boss (Ben Stein) gives him the axe. For some reason, Blanc is pulled into the world of Cutopia where he meets his first creation, Flux Wildly (Dan Castellaneta). Drew and Flux then have to stop the arch nemesis Nefarious (Tim Curry) from destroying all of Cutopia with the Malevolator.
The plot, however, is of little value overall. What makes the game is the all-star voice cast (fans of Tiny Toons, Animaniacs, Darkwing Duck, The Simpsons, etc. rejoice) and the incredibly simple, yet rewarding interface. The game is a very basic point-and-click where you can never actually lose or die, only fail to achieve. The enjoyment is had in the puzzle solving adventures that poke fun at childhood cartoons with noticeable affection. From the S&M cow to the flamboyant scarecrow to the evil robot (I’m pretty sure that one was Christopher Walken), the characters and situations combined with snappy zingers and language that feels just wrong in the context of a children’s world will keep you invested in finding out what’s around the next corner.
Again, if you grew up watching early 90’s cartoons and always wondered what it would be like if the cartoonists were let off leash, then Toonstruck is the game for you. While the game may be relatively quick, the puzzles and challenges should give even a seasoned gamer some pause. The worst part about this game is that it was cut in half before release, and the knowledge that somewhere out there is an entire other game we could have had at our disposal. Enjoy.
Spoiler alert: this review will spoil your expectations for the latest installment of the Bond series.
Now, I have endured my share of criticism lately as a fan of Pierce Brosnan’s Bond circa Goldeneye (although, a friend recently called Daniel Craig the working man’s Bond, which I found apt). However, most of the critique of Brosnan was leveled at the ridiculousness of the story or the flat performances—and only that—of the string of high-profile Bond girls. Well, Craig fans, welcome to your comeuppance.
The plot of Quantum of Solace is little more than a political intrigue piece with villains more along the lines of corrupt Enron executives rather than the stock and trade egomaniacal sociopath hell-bent on destruction. The Bond of this film is a shoot-em-first-ask-questions-later rampaging, murdering machine, which may excite action fans, but does little to progress the plot. It’s hard to understand the importance of characters one introduces when they are killed within the first 10 seconds of exposure. Ironically, M’s frustration with Bond’s massacre mirrored my own; can you please pretend like you understand the importance of information?
In the end, there is very little spy left in the current iteration of the James Bond franchise. Every world player seems to know who he is and who he works for, which certainly makes subtle infiltration difficult. In Casino Royale, he makes sure that Le Chiffre knows who he is, and in Quantum he turns down a discreet safe house opting instead for the most luxurious hotel in the area. The idea now is that Bond is a one man army who travels the globe taunting the antagonists to do something about him while quickly killing everyone in his path.
“This seems like an appropriate metaphor for the plot of our film.”
At the end of the film, one gets the feeling that this was far from cinema at its best. While high expectations may provide insight into the let down, a good film will rise above this challenge (e.g. Dark Knight). It is yet another example of how a bad plot and superfluous narratives will destroy a film, despite the best efforts of the lead character. So, while Brosnan may have appeared in his share of campy, throw away Bond films, Daniel Craig can now add one of those notches to his belt as well.
It is apparently time again for the perennial religious culture wars in the United States. Actually, let me be specific, since there is no end to the culture wars, religious wars, religious culture wars, or religious culture in the United States. It is time for the Christmas driven religious culture war—you know, the one that ends up lasting a solid two month or more (unless a pesky political revolution gets in the way).
Now, I generally try to stay the hell (ha ha) away from this entire hullabaloo, especially since I rarely care one way or the other. One side thinks that saying “Merry Christmas” is the same thing as allowing a religion to take over the government and foisting its brainwashing ideology upon the rest of us. The other side thinks that keeping a mostly pagan tradition alive is the only way to prevent Beelzebub from clearing a path of human skulls by which Lucifer will arrive to enslave the human race. As much as I love hyperbole, both sides seem absurd to me.
Yet, within the context of the ‘war,’ there is always to be found the tireless and tired war of words between the believers and the faithless. For example, allow me to cite a recent CNN article about a group of such nonbelievers who are starting a series of bus ads declaring that we should be good for goodness sake:
“It’s a stupid ad,” [standard outraged religious person] said. “How do we define ‘good’ if we don’t believe in God? God in his word, the Bible, tells us what’s good and bad and right and wrong. If we are each ourselves defining what’s good, it’s going to be a crazy world.”
Plato, and nearly every subsequent philosopher since him, is rolling over in his grave. Also, two things: 1) There is no necessary causal connection between atheism and moral relativism, quite the contrary; and 2) There is no reason to suppose that many religious persons are not in fact proponents of subjectivism themselves. But it goes on:
Also on Tuesday, the Liberty Counsel, a conservative Christian legal group based in Orlando, Florida, launched its sixth annual “Friend or Foe Christmas Campaign.” Liberty Counsel has intervened in disputes over nativity scenes and government bans on Christmas decorations, among other things.
“It’s the ultimate grinch to say there is no God at a time when millions of people around the world celebrate the birth of Christ,” said Mathew Staver, the group’s chairman and dean of the Liberty University School of Law. “Certainly, they have the right to believe what they want, but this is insulting.”
What is insulting, apparently, is the insinuation that there is no god, but we should be good people anyway. Now, I could sit around and stew about how people can think that morality would have anything to do with a god (which I frequently do privately, or amongst like minded cohorts, but never to the faithful), but I would never describe their views as insulting to me. In fact, living in the U.S. means being inundated by a constant barrage of religious propaganda, yet it is very rarely genuinely insulting to me.
I guess I just need to learn to take offense more often and at more innocent things. Also, to develop a persecution complex so that every instance of a competing view being anywhere near the public square causes bile to rise in my throat.
A friend wondered aloud recently if this is what it felt like for Republicans all of the time: to have such an absurd, inflated sense of patriotism that it begins to blind you in a euphoric and almost dangerous way. During art in my classroom yesterday I found myself fashioning an American flag for one of my students—who happened to be black—and the image of him waving it about with a grin on his face blanketed me anew in the alien mix of pride and disbelief.
Why I chose to make that flag, I do not honestly know. I do know that last year in Paris a shopkeeper asked us if we were American, following it up with, “George Bush, yes?” We sheepishly lowered our heads and chirped out a dismissive affirmative. Now, I feel like I could parade through the Marais with the stars and stripes draped on my shoulders and I would be greeted as a citizen of the world, one of millions of standard bearers of hope for the future.
The mind of a Democrat is a complicated world. The New York Times talked recently about how liberals were refusing to let themselves get excited. Disappointment, after all, had been our bread and butter for the last eight years (excusing the 2006 elections, which proved to be fairly ineffectual anyway). There was always the sense that the election would get stolen, an epidemic of racism would emerge, or perhaps the dreaded resort of the vulgar: assassination. It still doesn’t quite feel real yet, but I will be there on inauguration day to ensure that the reality is burned into my mind forever.
It seems like forever and a half ago that I threw my emotional hat into the ring for Barack Obama, and while the risks were high, the payout ended up being even higher. For the first time in a long time, I am excited about politics again, and I feel like the little experiment that was America may just live to see another day.
