Monday, July 28, 2008

"Klaatu barada... necktie!"

Photo of the Yesterday: A mariachi band on the E-train (but do they travel through time?)

Is anyone else out there getting an unclean vibe over how the news media is not only licking Obama's toushie, but have started writing "yeah, we're biased - whacha gonna do about it" columns? Jumpin' Jesus on a pogo stick, if I wanted to re-live the Clinton era, I would have voted for one.

Dear Electronic Arts- thank you for not doing any beta-testing whatsoever on the PC port of Mass Effect and releasing a game so buggy that it's completely unplayable. I'd clear up the ten gigs that it's wasting on my hard-drive while you get your shit together, but your draconian "three installations only" copy-protection is deterring me. To sum up: It's been nine weeks, write a goddamn patch already!

Is it just me, or is the only difference between Windows Mobile 5 and WM6 on the Pocket PC is the number? I've upgraded my operating system and honestly, I can't tell the difference. The promised 3gp support only seems to be for phones with WM6, not PPCs.

While I usually despise re-makes, I was actually interested in the upcoming version of The Day the Earth Stood Still, despite the fact that it's staring Keanu Reeves. (I know there are science-fiction purists who consider the original sacrosanct, but its "there are giant nannies in space who will make sure that humanity plays nice" concept never really appealed to my inner objectivist.) Then I read that in the remake, instead of deterring humans from war, Klatu & Gort have been sent to lecture us about - you guessed it - the environment. I think I'll pass.

Enough kvetching for today. Kudos to whoever can tell what the title quote is from, (and how it relates to this post,) and double kudos to anyone who gets the time-traveling mariachis reference.


Thursday, July 24, 2008

Wed Night is Mets Night!

I'm a Yankees fan by nature, but I'll never pass up tickets to a good game (Thanks, Tony & Dianne!) . Besides Shea Stadium (named for the Cuban guerrilla leader, Che Stadium) is a few miles away, while Yankees stadium is all the way out in the Bronx.

You think it's easy to mow those stripes?

Any questions?

Joe & the Cowbell Man get ready to sing "Don't Fear the Reaper" (I still don't get it!)


Sunday, July 20, 2008

Perverts or Terrorists, Drilling in the Gulf, and Guns with My Popcorn.

Photo of the Yesterday: No Weapons Allowed.

A sign on the door of AMC Loews Fresh Meadows 7 in Queens. Because people obviously need a sign to tell them they shouldn't bring weapons into a movie theater.

I spent the weekend working like an idiot. I earned Uncle Sam a lot of money Friday night and Saturday - I'll be lucky to see half of it. I wouldn't mind if I wasn't sure that the nation, state, and city are just going to piss it away.

Dear President Bush - I'd thank you for lifting your father's off-shore drilling ban if not for two issues. First of all, the problem is NOT a lack of oil, it's the lack of American refineries needed to turn the oil into gas. Second of all, I'll believe you give a shit if that gas were solely being used to give relief to America and not just sold into the oil cartel's pool so they can sell it back to Americans at inflated prices.

Joe and I saw The Dark Knight this morning. It's a fantastic film, but at two and a half hours, it's far, far too long. I did, however, have a joygasm upon seeing the long-awaited preview for Watchmen. It's a little heavy on Doctor Manhattan (the blue guy,) but I suppose the filmmakers spent a lot of money on CGI and wanted to show it off. It does look beautiful. As long as they don't change the ending of the original graphic novel (as has been rumored and unrumored and rerumored a few times,) I'll be happy.

The Village Voice has an article this week titled "To Catch-22 a Predator." It details how New York rapists and molesters are being held indefinitely in legal limbo at a mental institution long after their sentences are completed. While I'm sure this violates their constitutional rights, (and honestly don't care, ) I'm a little surprised that the Voice takes the attitude that it's OK to hold rapists indefinitely on crimes that have not yet been committed ("On Ward's Island, it's legal limbo for men who probably deserve it") when they've taken such a strong stance against the U.S. government doing the same thing to terrorists at Guantánamo. Why is one all right, but not the other? I'm not trying to cry "hypocrite," I'm just curious. Perhaps it's a lack of trust in our government and the current administration, or that the thought of a rapist on the loose is easier for people to relate to than that of an "enemy combatant" on the loose.

Well, that's all the crap that's leaking out my brain at the moment. Have a nice Sunday.


Monday, July 14, 2008

IF: Foggy

Illustration Friday: Foggy

(Please click image for high-resolution. Go on, you know you want to.)


Saturday, July 12, 2008

Blinded by the Light

Photo of the Today: Dead Moth & Cocoon

I walked down the driveway at my parents' house and saw this inside of the outdoor lamp. I'm guessing that a caterpillar crawled up through a hole in the bottom, transformed into a moth, and then either couldn't find the hole in the bottom to crawl out of, or was far too entranced by the light to want to leave. On the other hand, his corpse is stuck to the pane. So, it's possible that he was lusting for the sun and consequently was baked by the summer heat. So what do you think? Was he killed by the light he was too close to, or killed by the light that was unattainable?


Thursday, July 10, 2008

"He Who Writes On Bathroom Walls..."

Photo of the Yesterday: Graffiti in the men's room.

"He who writes on bathroom walls,
Rolls his crap in little balls.
You who read these words of wit,
Eat those little balls of shit!"
-Anonymous Americana occasionally found in men's room stalls.

My grandfather was fond of saying that cursing shows the world that you are too stupid to express your thoughts and emotions any other way. Of course, I'm talking about a man who had no problem saying "go shit in your hat" repeatedly in front of a five-year-old, (or speculating to said five year old about Mr. Rogers's sexual orientation, for that matter,) but I digress. The point is, whenever I see "obscene" graffiti, I find myself thinking on more or less the same lines: not only does the artist obviously venerate genitalia, (male & female,) but for some reason he feels the need to proudly declare his obsession to the world. At any rate, in the spirit of religious diversity, it's refreshing to see that phallic idol worship is still alive and well in bathrooms across the country.


Tuesday, July 08, 2008

I'm a Rhinestone Handbag

Photo of the Yesterday: The Brooklyn Bridge in the early morning fog, as seen from downtown Manhattan.

A Subway Vignette:

A middle aged woman sits up the aisle and across from me on the R train. Her features are sharp and angular - I wonder if she is of Cherokee descent, but honestly, I don't know how to differentiate one Native American tribe from another. Her nose is almost square, her brow is low and comes to a point in between her eyebrows, as if to focus the full force of her consciousness on whatever she looks at. Her face is leathery, creased, and walnut colored. I can't begin to guess how much pigment is hereditary and how much is courtesy of a tanning bed.

In her lap is a purse the size of a grocery bag. It's arguably the largest, most ridiculous handbag I've ever seen. It's fashioned from bleached suede and adorned with a random but immense scattering of rhinestones and sequins, as if someone had emptied a bottle of Elmer's glue on it and showered it with chips of cheap plastic and colored glass. Cowhide tassels dangle from its top and sides. At every stop, the woman clutches the thing to her stomach, ready to protect her dearest possession against any snatchers with lousy taste. Women always go on about the toys men have, and how they must mean to compensate for something. A powerful car, a fast CPU, a rifle, a boat - in the annals of the Lifetime Channel, they all supposedly indicate a tiny wee-wee. So what the hell can you say about a bag like that? What can such a monstrosity possibly be compensating for?


Saturday, July 05, 2008

Tired, but Awake

Photo of the Yesterday: Button and needle (and fabric) sculpture on 39th and 7th in Manhattan. (For shits & giggles, I've added the Google Maps satellite picture in the corner. Isn't it just wonderful how much of our lives can be seen from space?)

Sorry the posts have been so scant as of late, but I've been working like an idiot and coming home absolutely exhausted. My dreams are full of wires and ScotchLocks. (A word to the wise: if you don't want to work overtime, don't put in for overtime.) My kids are annoyed with me that I just fall asleep after dinner rather than playing with them. Anyway, here are some random thoughts I've had this week:

Life seems determined to put me in as many moccasins as possible, so I can see things from every perspective. Great. Very Zen. Now, if, for a change, I could have the perspective of a wealthy, skinny person, please...

I've never bought drugs, but I think this is probably what it's like: An old man motions to me from a doorway on Liberty Street. He cracks open the top of his bag and shows me some bootleg DVDs in plastic envelopes and tells me they're $5 each. None of them appeal to me (and of course, copyright violators are evil, slimy terrorists, drug cartells, slave traders, the bane of corn farmers (!), the cause of the recession, and everything else the MPAA says they are, *cough cough,*) so I move on. In the subway station at the World Trade Center site, police are randomly searching bags. They're looking for bombs, supposedly, but I wonder if they would confiscate a bootleg if they found one. As the rocking of the E-tran shakes me to sleep, I wonder why the old man would bother selling the DVDs, as the crime is now a misdemeanor worth a $5000 fine and up to six months in jail. I'm sure he's not the ringleader, so what could he be making - $1 per DVD? He can't possibly sell more than a handfull a day - not the way he's doing it. The Evil Bootleg Ring is probably holding his daughter captive, or something. Yeah, that's it.

I've registered a Facebook page to go along with my Myspace Page. This way my internet can be balanced. The only problem is, I can't remember a lot of my Army buddy's names. For example, the Sargent we all called Dirty Larry. What was his last name? Or the tall skinny guy, Robinson. Fist name? Watson, Tuggle... Rob... the only name I really remember was my roomate Keith's, and I have his email anyway.

Anyway, I have a lot of homework to do and sleep to catch up on. Goodnight.