Wait For It...Fjord!

When I went to Disney last year, I wrote up an overview of the trip for you good people (and yes, for you lousy ones too), but sort of glossed over one important point. See, the trip was actually very educational for me. As someone who has not traveled much, only leaving the US of A for the gentle climes of Canada (which is really just America Light), I'm sort of confined to the news and television for my views of other countries. Now, thanks to Epcot, I have diversified this knowledge greatly.

I'll give you an example. I'm part Mexican, so you'd think I'd know stuff about Mexico, right? Yeah, not so much. Fortunately, I'm now far more aware of my heritage. I mean, I knew about the Incan stuff, but who knew Mexico was actually full of señoritas in flowery dresses and dudes in sombreros? Oh, and the mariachi bands that are apparently everywhere. I find it hard to believe that the drug wars I hear about on the news could be happening in a place with so many mariachis, going around playing guitars and making everyone all jovial-like. I shall read further reports with a grain of salt.

Another country I was ignorant of was Norway. I mean, I knew Norway was lousy with fjords (which Epcot confirmed for me), but that was pretty much it. Now I know that to this day, Norway is a land of Vikings, a place where people travel by ship to battle swamp trolls with giant, double-sided axes. Who knew it would be so exciting? Of course I'm in no hurry to actually go there now, what with not liking riding on ships or forest trolls much, but still. Very educational.

Fjord. God I love that word. Fjord fjord fjord.

Okay, I'm done.

Anyway, there was a lot more. Everyone in France loves wine and cheese and art and the Eiffel tower, which I kind of suspected already. People in the UK like rugby and knights, which I was also aware of. People in Morocco like cous cous and belly dancing, which surprised me, as I thought belly dancing was more of an Egyptian thing, but whatever. There was just so much to take in.

Oh, and Martin Short %#$@ing loves Canada, which I didn't know, but in hindsight makes total sense, because he's always just so damned polite.



Fjord.

Of Course It Would Be Under There

Like most people, I come across thing on the internet that I wasn't necessarily looking for. Such an example is Men's Underwear Guy. (Link NSFW. I'll explain in a bit.) No, it's not the most ridiculous superhero webcomic ever. Rather, it's a site where one man dedicates himself to reviewing men's underwear.

Seriously.

Now I'm a big fan of online reviews, turning to the net before making most of my major purchases. Never before would I have considered pausing before picking up a pack of BVDs, considering that maybe I should be doing more research into what I'm girding my loins with. Really, once I outgrew Underoos, my interest in the fashion considerations of my delicates waned almost completely.



This individual, on the other hand, has an affinity for men's lingerie that borders on disturbing. This in and of itself would be impressive, but the fact is he would appear to be reviewing the products the only way a person really can - he's trying them all himself. And how do we know this?

Because he's modeling every single thing he reviews.

This is amazing to me. Initially, my inclination was to believe that the guy was simply running this site to work out some exhibitionist tendencies. Well, that or he wanted a socially acceptable outlet to show his six-pack abs and that he's packing more heat than Neo attacking a building in the one and only Matrix movie ever made. Ever.

The thing is, he's really reviewing these things. Every thong, sling and leather thing is being rated, graphed and commented on in detail usually reserved for home stereo equipment. The man is a &$%#ing connoisseur. I was only on the site for like five minutes, and he has me questioning whether I should be choosing unmentionables more worthy of mention.

Don't get me wrong. I'm not throwing out my current collection to be replaced with the shoulder-harnessed jocks made famous by Borat (and yeah, they're in there). Still, next time I go to replace a worn set of briefs, I might consider doing a little reading first.

Of course it might compel me to pick up cucumbers and aluminum foil while I'm out shopping, but perhaps that's the price one pays for fashion.

Those Days...They Were Golden

Okay, there's a piece on Kotaku right now on considering the ramifications on gamers of the fact that the iPad and the DSi XL are being released around the same time. This...this is wrong. As a gamer, I feel like I should say something about this, especially since I have access to the existing, miniature versions of both systems, the iPhone and the DS Lite.

Here's the thing: Nintendo owns the portable gaming world. I say this as someone who, if forced into choosing between my beloved PSP and my left foot, would prompty run out and pick out a nice peg. I've played a handful of DS games, and they are what one would expect - they are Nintendo games. They are Mario and Link and everything that I loved about playing video games as a kid, made pocket size. When I heard about the DSi XL, a DS for people with man-sized hands, I will happily confess that the plotting began that will make one of them mine. (Insert appropriate maniacal laughter here.)



My iPhone, on the other hand, is a very different thing. I love my iPhone. It's hard to think about getting by without it. It has become a second brain for me - keeping appointments, looking up facts, checking my email. It's a wonderful tool that has made me more productive by leaps and bounds.

And almost every game on it sucks.

Okay, that's a little unfair. There are some cute puzzle games, and of course Monkey Island and Wolfenstein 3-d worked amazingly well, but that's about it. Everything else falls into one of two categories: it's either something I've already played online in Flash, or it's a game that might be fun if I wasn't required to cover 20% of the screen with my %#$@ing thumbs to play it. Maybe other people don't mind this. People with tiny hands. Me being neither a midget or a carny, I ain't one of them.

My point is that I don't look at the iPad and think "gaming device". I think they look like fun and something that would be useful, an ideal kitchen device (I'm a geek - having a machine with wireless capabilities in the kitchen is no less reasonable than, say, a toaster). I would jump at the chance to get one if I had several hundred dollars burning a hole in my pocket. As a gamer though, it's not even on my radar.

So yeah, I'm not sure where you're coming from on this one, Kotaku. These are two completely different markets. I'm guessing you just really wanted to talk about the iPad, and as a gaming magazine this is the only excuse you had.

I'm the same way with monkeys, zombies, and my illicit affair with Bea Arthur, so I totally feel you.

DLOG: The Manifesto

So I've been thinking, I need to start a manifesto. This way, if I'm fiddling with the radio on my car and go careening madly off the side of the road, inadvertantly hitting a Government building in the process and killing myself, it will be seen as an act of patriotic defiance (not terrorism - I'm still considered Caucasian). This will probably make for better headlines than "Died in an effort to not hear that Lady Gaga telephone song again, like a twit".

As such, I have the following demands and grievances that I expect everyone to pay attention to and act upon, regardless how ridiculous, selfish and petty they may seem:

• Each week, one individual voter, chosen at random, will be "Person of the week". They will be mentioned on all television news broadcasts and will recieve free food at any restaurant for the duration of the week. There will also be a hat, signed by the President of the United States, that they get to keep.


• A song shall be selected that, when sung by a man in a public restroom, must immediately be joined in upon by all other men sharing that facility. I'm pushing for Rawhide, but remain open to suggestions.


• Free pie Fridays. MAKE THIS HAPPEN!
  


• While I sympathize with the plight of the downtrodden in our society, I do not feel it fair that I should be expected to participate in funding Government programs to help them when such participation interferes with my procurement of shiny objects (for the purposes of this manifesto, "shiny objects" is defined as anything appearing anywhere on Gizmodo). As such, I shall be exempted of all taxation dedicated to programs that do not directly benefit me until the production of such shiny objects ceases or I run out of room for all my stuff.


• It shall be made illegal to hide from someone and then jump out, yelling "BOO!", in an attempt to frighten and startle them. That's just mean.


• The third Monday in March shall be declared a Federal holiday in celebration of the works of William Shatner. The Shat must get his due. (I don't %$#*ing care if he's Canadian. We're claiming him, and if that means we take Canada in the process, so be it.)
  

As I understand it, these are supposed to be living document, so I think this is a sufficient starting point. Feel free to add any suggestion to the comments section. I will give each due consideration.

My Rude Bodily Noise Skills Are Legendary As Well

This weekend is the annual celebration of my failure as the ideal American man. No, it's not my wedding anniversary (and if you thought it was, I should let you know that whatever my lovely wife told you was a vicious lie). Instead, it's the annual gathering of men around big-screen televisions all across the country to watch incredibly expensive ads for beer and erectile dysfunction drugs.

Oh, and there will be a football game in there somewhere as well.



Yes, it's Super Bowl weekend again. While I care about football slightly less than, say, the price of head cheese in Venezuela, I know that once again I will consider this as I'm doing laundry this weekend and feel just a little left out. It's not that I actually want to watch men in padded outfits fighting over a piece of leather and slapping each other on the ass - I've got clubs I can go to for that. Rather it's that I know a lot of the other guys will be gathering together to watch it, so I'm losing that camaraderie.

It's actually worse because it reminds me of all the things that guys are supposed to do together that I just never picked up. Despite my willingness to sit in a boat and drink, fishing doesn't really appeal to me. Golf has never come up either, surprising given my sartorial history. I won't repeat my lament regarding my lack of handyman skills, beyond saying that I'm not going to be invited to any barn-raisings in the near future. I don't even like The Three Stooges all that much.

Perhaps I'm reading too much into all of this. After all, I'm man enough to have reproduced twice, which isn't bad. All of this manly nonsense is just stereotypical rubbish anyway, right? There's nothing inherently manly about sitting around eating chicken wings and yelling at your television that I can see, so I suppose I should just learn to accept that it's not who I am.

Besides, I can always take comfort in the fact that I show amazing aptitude for both swilling beer and inappropriate scratching which is more than enough to hold on to my man card.

Just Between Us, Someone Needs To Check Helena Bonham Carter's Pulse. Just Sayin.

This morning, I saw that one of friends was on Facebook questioning the reasons behind the fashion industry's insistence that a woman is only attractive is she's built like a ten-year-old boy. Well, having briefly worked as an international fashion model (it was a cover), I have a unique insight into the situation, one that I have kept to myself for a long time for fear of my safety. I have now accrued sufficient mana, however, to protect my family and myself from attack, and thus it is my responsibility to come clean about this.

The sad truth is that most of the modern fashion industry as we know it is actually driven by necromancers.



See, sometime in the last millennium, people got wise to the idea that it was mostly better when dead people stayed dead. Thus, a lot of necromancers found themselves without a lot to do. Strangely, it turned out that many the of skills required to raise the dead from their graves were also useful in coming up with new and exciting fashion trends (don't ask me how it works - not my area of expertise). So, they put aside their potions and rituals, taking up fabrics and patterns in their place.

Of course, you can design all day, but if you have no one to model for you it does no good. This is where things got weird. The necromancers, not really adept at people skills, what with their pallid appearance and the fact that they kind of smelled like a mausoleum, didn't work well with the average supermodel. To overcome this, they rolled their own, raising the recently deceased to parade around in their latest creation.

Unfortunately for those of us who find grown women attractive, they were really good at what they did. The fashion industry took notice, mistaking the decrepid corpses for extremely thin, living women, and began to follow suit. This unfortunately started the trends that find us where we are today.



Hopefully, this is just that - a trend. Perhaps one day, the dead will be allowed to rest and real women will no longer be made to feel bad about having hips. Until then, we just have to quietly tolerate it. Eventually, someone's foot is going to fall off on a runway, and that should pretty well tie it all up.

On the bright side of all this, we did get goths, Hot Topic, and some of the best costume designers to ever work with Timothy Burton.

Yo Quiero Perro

Apparently a bunch of people decided that Paris Hilton was a good role model and then regretted it. No, I'm not referring to a glut of poorly lit sex tapes leaking onto the internet. Rather, there is now an overflowing supply of chihuahuas in Californian pet shelters. One can only assume that these people thought carrying a dog around in your purse was a good idea because they didn't realize that Paris has someone else who has to clean out the purse after the dog relieves itself in it.

Anyway, there is now this excess supply of chihuahuas with no home and people are all concerned about the fate of the poor pooches. As usual, these people are missing the obvious opportunity that this situation presents. We have a bunch of extra chihuahuas. We have a terrible economy with a lot of people out of work. We have a state that has (at least for those with medical issues) legal marijuana distribution.

Two words, dudes and dudettes: chihuahua tacos.

Come on people, this is a no-brainer. They're just going to put those poor little pups to sleep anyway. Why not use them to provide inexpensive meals for the good people of California? And really, if we're going to start eating dogs (and I see no reason not to, as they're no cuter than cows), what could be more natural than to use chihuahuas to make tacos? We could even get cheese from Chihuahua, Mexico, and have double chihuahua tacos. It practically markets itself.

You know what, I bet the chihuahuas would even want us to make tacos out of them if their little, dumb, chihuahua brains could comprehend such concepts as national pride. Or Tacos. Or death. (I've lived with chihuahuas. They're not the quickest rats in the pack.)



So let's make this happen people. Let's grab a bottle of salsa, shred some lettuce, break out the shells, and make us some tacos con perros. I bet they'll taste just like chickens.

Little, yappy, big-eyed chickens.

Hey Hey Hey, It's Diiiiiabetes!

A quick Google search shows that childhood obesity seems to be a pretty consistent issue with Americans right now. It's in the news all the time, with the primary focus being the cause. I see it all the time. It's too much fast food. It's sugary drinks and cereal. It's lack of exercise.

While I'm sure these all add to the problem, I think that once again people are missing the question that needs to be asked: why do parents let their children live like this instead of encouraging better habits? I think a quick look at the age group who's responsible for these children will show something that I think the news outlets are missing: we all grew up with a certain role model. This role model that not only encouraged such overeating, but really glorified it.

I speak of course, of Fat Albert.

"But Roger," you may say, "Fat Albert taught children life lessons and morality." Well, you can keep that opinion to yourself. Seriously, this is the internet - I can't hear you. All talking to your monitor like a whack job. Use the comments section, loon.

Anyway, Fat Albert taught us, above all, that to be in charge, you had to be the biggest kid in the group. Why do you think the others followed him? You think they enjoyed listening to his Darth Vadar-like wheezing, or maybe his fashion sense? (In his defense, I believe the whole group was economically challenged, what with each of them only having the one outfit to wear all time.) No, they feared his mighty girth. I don't know that he would have actually eaten one of them had they crossed him, but just the threat of getting sat upon must have been enough to keep them in line. Not even the Brown Hornet could have withstood that ponderous posterior.



So yeah, all of us who watched the show regularly took this lesson away with us. As a result, when our own, healthy children go out into the world, part of us wonders what chance they have. I know I lie in bed at night sometimes thinking on my own children, lean and strong, and fear that they'll become that kid in the big, orange hat or, God forbid, a Mushmouth. There are days when the fear that my lovely daughter might one day come saying that one of her friends is like a teacher in the summertime makes me want to force-feed her an entire box of Little Debbie snack cakes.

Bill Cosby, what have you wraught?

I'm Suprised Deniro Isn't In There

Okay, I'm going to give you a list of actors and actresses, and you tell me what they all have in common. Ready?

Tracy Morgon, comedian, actor and Saturday Night Live Alumni.

Sam Rockwell, an actor know for being featured in popular independant films.

Steve Buscemi, a genius known for playing the nervous and paranoid in such films as Reservoir Dogs, The Big Lebowski, and Fargo.

Penelope Cruz, an actress that, having claimed critical acclaim in her home of Spain followed suit here in the USA.

Jon Favreau, actor, screenwriter and director whose credits include writing Swingers and directing one of last year's biggest hit, Iron Man

Nicolas Cage, a household name whose nearly thirty year career has seen him in some of the biggest movies produced.

Did you guess that they are all award winners? Well, that's absolutely true I suppose. Maybe you went with them all being big players in their particular scene, which I guess I would also have to agree with. Neither of these is what I'm thinking of, however.

No, what I was thinking of is that they are all playing rodents in G-Force, Disney's latest theatrical romp, that revolves around a troupe of secret agent guinea pigs, give or take a robotic fly or a mole. That's pretty much what I know about it, having managed to ignore most of the ads up until yesterday when the Disney Channel was running one of their long commercials for it. That was when I realized what kind of cast they had nabbed for themselves.



Now I can't say I'm surprised that once again Disney has opted for name recognition over professional voice actors. Disappointed maybe, but not surprised. No, what's throwing me here is that combining talking rodents with this particular group just seems so...disparate. I mean, I admit I don't see a lot of movies, and I tend to stick to the best reviewed stuff, so maybe they have fallen further than I knew, but these are people I associate with works of skill, things that made me laugh or cry or think, or at the very least entertained the Hell out of me. And Tracy Morgan.

Now they're doing rodent voices for Disney.

Now I'm not hating on Disney. You all know I just came back from a rocking vacation that they had a big part in. Between that and the joy they bring my kids, I'm pretty happy with them as a company, and would not ever do anything to cast aspersions on them. Plus I really like Jonas, and I'm not ashamed to say so. (Okay, I'm a little ashamed, but ^#%$ it, it's funny.) But how they pulled together these people is a mystery to me.

Maybe they payed them all a ton of money. Maybe they've all had kids now and they're trying to win favor this way. Maybe someone at Disney has compromising photos of them all at an Oscar party (fingers crossed). I just don't know. Whatever it is, the casting has had the odd effect of taking a movie that I had absolutely no interest in seeing whatsoever, and making me curious. You don't suppose...I mean, that can't be their intention, can it?

Either way, I think I'll wait for the sequel, G-Force 2: Kicking It In Gere.

Why Do All My Life Plans Sound Like Sitcom Premises?

There are times where I grow desperate with my situation, times when I feel the need to change something drastic. Given the fact that I'm not the "abandon your family to wander the Earth, meet people and have adventures like Caine from Kung Fu" type, this leaves me with pondering a career change. Specifically, I'm thinking about starting my own business.

Now I know a lot of people start their own business only to fail spectacularly, but I think I've got a winning angle. First, I've considered what I like to do most. Realizing that no one is going to pay me to play video games and drink, I'm forced to look at my second option, which is writing. Now I could cover the edges of this here blog with ads and wait until this thing reaches enough mass to cover my expenses, but I seem to pick up an average of one reader every couple of months, and frankly I don't have that kind of time, so we're talking freelance writer. I've won contests for writing blurbs before - maybe I could make it work as a career.

Of course it would take time for people to realize my mad wordsmithing skills, and this is where my genius kicks in. See, I would combine the business to use my current skills and my new goal to offer multiple services. So I would have a freelance writer/web development business. The only issue with that is that it seems off-kilter somehow with the two services.

And that's why you add "Detective Agency".

So there it is. I'll start scoping out locations for the new Dangerously Low On Grog Freelance Writing/Web Development Detective Agency immediately as well as scoping out a long term business plan to show the people who give out loans for this sort of thing. They'll probably want details on my qualifications, particularly for the detective agency part, but I figure if I add the caveat that the detective agency will only take cases involving electricity monsters, ghosts, or space kooks then I'll be fine.



Take into account that I can work a white sweater and red scarf like nobody's business, and it's clear that this is gold baby. Solid freakin' gold.

Walt Disney World: The Short Form

Okay, instead of dragging this out forever, I'm going to shoot out a vacation highlight reel and then move on. So, without further ado (because lord knows I hate it when there's too much ado), I give you my Walt Disney World highlights:

Biggest disappointment: Gay Day at The Magic Kingdom
Considering the brouhaha I had seem from certain church groups online, I expected the park to be like a day-long pride parade full of mesh shirts and tiny disco shorts. Instead, it was just a bunch of people in red shirts. It was a lot like I imagine heaven to be in the Star Trek universe. I went the entire day, and only saw one couple making out under the fireworks, and as they didn't violate the cardinal rule regarding public displays of affection (try not to make out in public if you're ugly), it was largely inoffensive.

Ride most like being on drugs: It's a Small World
Seriously, I went through the whole ride with my jaw hanging open. I still can't really find words to describe how delightfully weird it is. The best I can do is say that when people drop acid, this is what they are hoping to achieve.

Favorite ride: The Haunted Mansion
What can I say? I love me some Haunted Mansion. I went twice, and I loved it both times. This time, I had the added bonus of having someone point out to me that at the back of the pet cemetery outside the mansion, a grave has been erected for Mr. Toad, whose wild ride (the second best ride after the Haunted Mansion when I was five) was refitted for a sadly dull Winnie the Pooh ride in 1998.



Hottest park: Disney's Animal Kingdom
Okay, you would think that a theme park made up like a jungle, complete with tree shade throughout most of the park, would be cooler than it's counterparts. Instead, you get the Animal Kingdom, where the whole place feels twenty degrees hotter than the surrounding area, and half the attractions seem to involve walking paths. We did breakfast, the safari, two air conditioned shows, and watched a parade, and then took off for someplace cooler. Like Hell.

Coolest special event: Star Wars Weekend at Hollywood Studios
This was awesome. Star Wars sets. Stormtroopers patrolling. Chewbacca (what a wookie). The actors who portrayed Boba Fett, Jengo Fett (and countless clones), and the one and only Darth Vader on parade. Very, very nerdcore.

Best character meal: Cinderella's Royal Table
Okay, now the Tusker House Breakfast that we attended to celebrate the Moose's third birthday was cool, and the kids got their pictures with the full set of Mickey, Donald, Goofy, Daisy, and Minnie, but Cinderella's won for two reasons. First, not only did the kids get a great professional picture with Cinderella, but during dinner, there were more characters performing as well. If this wasn't enough, the kids got toys - a princess wand for her, and a sword for him. To emphasize that last point: they gave a freakin' three year old a sword at the dinner table. I would say the highlight of the meal for me was discussing our dietary restriction with the chef, and seeing my son take his little sword and poke the chef right in the junk with it. The fact that I didn't laugh out loud still astounds me.



Best country at Epcot: Germany
Oh sure, I could have gone with Mexico for the food, or America for my country, or Canada for...I don't know, Martin Short I guess. Instead, Germany wins out. It had good chocolate, good beer, and clocks that little, toy people come out. Man those crack me up, especially after the good beer.

Scariest ride: Dumbo
It's a little car with a tiny seat belt, there's not really a door on the outside, and how high you go is typically decided by the kid sitting next to you. %#$@ that noise.

So there you have it. There was more - a lot more, and I'm sure it will come up in time, but overall, it was an excellent trip. Now I just need to get rested up, because Disney is fun, but it leaves you a bit hung over.

Okay, the whiskey probably helps, but mostly, it was Disney.

Besides, Does Anyone Really Want To Hear "Heart and Soul" Again?

Yesterday, as the nurse removed my cast and I looked upon my mangled hand with some dismay, it was everything I could do to resist asking if I would be able to play the piano after this. In the end I contained myself, which is probably for the best, since I can't play the piano now. In fact, it is a shame of mine that I have never taken enough interest in any instrument beyond my own voice to dedicate myself to learning how to play it.

Well that's all changed.

See, I was doing some poking around online and somehow stumbled upon the theramin. for those of you who don't know, the theramin is that thing that makes the absolutely awesome "ooo-wee-ooo" sounds of old science fiction and horror movies (and, of course, my cell phone's ringtone). I had always assumed that it was a keyboard-like thing, which in hindsight was kind of dumb because you rarely saw a keytar prior to the 1980s.



Okay, so here's where the whole thing moves from "Gee, it would be kind of neat to learn how to play one of those." to "Holy Jeebus how have I not purchased one of these things yet!?!". The theramin is one of the only instruments that is played entirely without making physical contact with it. Instead, you move your hands around the antenna to adjust pitch and volume. I repeat, IT PLAYS MUSIC FROM YOU WAVING YOUR &#%$ING HANDS AROUND IT! It's like being a Jedi, only instead of confusing stormtroopers you play the soundtrack to The Day the Earth Stood Still (the original, not the Keanu remake). Here's the more scientific description of the process from WikiPedia:

The theremin uses the heterodyne principle to generate an audio signal. The instrument's circuitry includes two radio frequency oscillators. One oscillator operates at a fixed frequency. The frequency of the other oscillator is controlled by the performer's distance from the pitch control antenna. The performer's hand acts as the grounded plate (the performer's body being the connection to ground) of a variable capacitor in an L-C (inductance-capacitance) circuit. The difference between the frequencies of the two oscillators at each moment allows the creation of a difference tone in the audio frequency range, resulting in audio signals that are amplified and sent to a loudspeaker.

Whatever. It plays music from you waving your hands around it. Must have.



So now this is one more part of my dream office. I will add this to the existing list of things required for the perfect office: fake "castle brick wall" treatment, a few of those plasma balls (preferably in multiple colors), a Jacob's Ladder (the high-voltage travelling arc), and finally a theramin. This is going to be so sweet.

Of course my lovely wife will probably insist on keeping a desk and maybe some bookshelves in there as well, but hey, marriage is all about compromise, right?

The Haunting of BVD

Last week I was discussing the impressionable nature of people and how that nature allows shows like Ghost Hunters to survive, and as usual my mind wandered in relation to it. I got to thinking about how they film a show like that. I mean, it's a bunch of guys (plus a token female or two now to add balance) sitting around a supposedly haunted location and...well, recording it. I mean, they record sound and video for hours I bet just to get the semi-spooky fifteen minutes they show us.

What this means is that there are hours of footage of these guys just hanging around this house or hotel or prison or whatever. Now, if you've followed this blog at all, you know right where my mind led at this point. We've got dudes, just hanging out. Yeah, they're on television, and they're professionals, but they're still dudes. I so want to get a hold of the outtakes that I know they're never going to put on television.

Grant: Okay, so far we're not picking up any activity. [Ghost name], are you here with us. Just give us some kind of sign.
Jason: (Looking slightly uncomfortable) Uhhh, yeah. If you're here, just let us know.
Grant: I don't know. I'm just not getting anything. Maybe we should check the attic again.
Jason: Wait, did you hear that?
Grant: (Sits silently, focusing in that very serious way he does)
Jason: Phhhrrrrrrrrt.
Grant: Oh man. (Waving arms in the air.) Dude, what did you eat?
Jason: Oooh, the spirits are angry here.
Grant: (Gasping) Christ. Whatever it is up Jason's ass, stay away from the light!

You know this footage is out there somewhere. I don't care how professional you are - you put a bunch of guys in a house with nothing better to do that sit around listening for a sign of otherworldly life, one of them is cutting loose. Hell, I wouldn't be surprised if one of the "voices" they caught during their EVP recordings was nothing but someone's kielbasa making a hasty exit, and they didn't fess up to it. "It sounds like it said 'fur blat', followed by a high pitched whining sound. Does that mean anything to you?"

Honestly, it's a testament to how professional they really are that they didn't giggle.

It Seems...I Don't Know. Upside Down Perhaps.

This morning, having dealt with an extremely uncooperative toddler and busted my hand in a ridiculous fall, I was at wit's end and used the television to distract the Moose so I could get him dressed and brush his teeth in the seven minutes we had before we had to leave. I flipped on PBS Kids, where the Moose happily (and more important, quietly) watched Curious George. This was great, except I'm again really tired, and despite promising myself that I would stop over thinking children's television, thus avoiding the dark places it tend to lead me, I just couldn't help it today.

So, here's the thing - like half the episodes of Curious George deal with...I don't know, Curious George stuff. You know, he finds out about working in a kitchen (because apparently the New York health inspectors are cool with primates hanging around while you're making lasagna) or gardening or frogs or something. Normal stuff like you would expect from reading the books.

Then we have episodes like today's. The man in the yellow hat (who despite taking care of George has never earned the right to an actual name) is going to space to repair a satellite. I'm never sure what his actual job is, but whatever. Well, it turns out that the spaceship designers forgot to make the door open from the outside, so now they have to send George so he can open the door after the man's spacewalk. Umm...okay. Not sure I would want my life put in hands that were most likely flinging poo an hour ago, but whatever.

Okay, so now George and the man are out in space, and the time comes to leave the ship and do the repair. The man attempts to tether himself to the ship, and lo and behold, the thing that holds the tether to his suit breaks. Having now established that the people driving the space program are hacks, the decision comes through that always gets to me: Let the monkey do it.

They do this all the time. They find some situation where things go awry, and they need someone tiny to step up and fix it (apparently because someone washed all the spacesuits/aqua gear/portals in hot water). We lost a computer full of critical data at the bottom of the ocean? Send the monkey. We need someone to break into Langley and get the NOC list? Send the monkey. Someone has discovered a bomb in the President's colon, and we only have fifteen minutes to diffuse it? Send the monkey, and give him a pair of wire cutters.

You get the idea.

I guess my concern is that, even with my profound respect for monkeys, every episode I watch seems to hit a point where I'm talking to the television. "Dude, you're going to send a monkey?" If it was an emergency banana retrieval I would understand, but it seems to me in most of these cases they would be able to find someone a little more qualified. I suppose that once again, this is the reason you don't see me writing for Hollywood.

Not many kids would tune in to watch Curious George Watches a Midget Take Care Of Stuff.

Plus Some of Them Slim Down Using Laxatives

The Academy of Motion Picture Arts and Sciences has released their list of contenders for the 2008 Academy Awards. While I normally take interest in the Oscars, somehow this year I find that interest severely lacking. Maybe it's that I just don't watch many movies (I'm thinking I could count them on one hand for 2008, including rentals). Whatever the case, I'm just not caring.

It doesn't help that the show itself has been painful to watch the last few times I've tried. Overblown musical numbers, unfunny banter, weepy acceptance speeches...yikes. If not for the dead reel, I can't really think of anything that would encourage me to tune in this time. I think that's really saying something - the only reason I would consider watching your multi-million dollar extravaganza is to find out who died last year. Not exactly a glowing advertisement.

Maybe my problem (other than my distaste for boring speeches) is that ever since Janet Jackson displayed her Tito on national television, the allure of "live" television has been all but destroyed. We know that whatever is going on is being delayed and censored now, so the whole anything-could-happen aspect of it is gone. It's just going to be boring speeches, and if anything good does happen unexpectedly, we'd have to watch it later on the internet anyway.

You know, I actually think that's it. When I look down deep into my soul (okay, it's not that deep), I realize that all these years I've watched the show on the off chance that someone who gets an upset stomach when they're nervous and may have partaken of one pre-show party cheese puff despite their lactose intolerance might accidentally squeak out a bit of embarrassing flatulence during a nervous laugh, a squeak that is just loud enough to get picked up by the microphone. I wonder, now that I think about it, if they even would bother censoring such a thing. After all, it's not technically obscene or anything, right? So that squeak might be allowed through onto national television, a tiny trumpet between the list of thanks that would make the whole thing worth while.

Huh. Maybe I'll end up watching after all.

Dora. Pawnshop. Crackhouse. Again!

Since I spend most of my time with one or more kid, I get to see lots of educational television. I don't mean the good stuff like Mythbusters or The History of Sex on the history channel (which I actually saw a lot of - the ancient Egyptians put out enough hieroglyphic porn to fuel two Internets). No, I get the crowd from Sesame Street, library lions, and a little Hispanic girl, which is where I noticed an interesting thing.

Most episodes of Dora the Explorer involve Swiper. Swiper is a fox who shows up to...well, swipe. If Dora and her entourage manage to say "Swiper, no swiping" three times, Swiper is forced to run off. One would guess he suffers from the same psychological impediment as Mustafa from Austin Powers.

Anyway, if they don't manage to say it three times, Swiper takes whatever they have at the moment, but he doesn't run off with it as you might expect from a criminal. No, he just throws it into the distance, laughs and declares "You'll never find it now" before vanishing from the scene. This is exactly where they lose me. He doesn't actually steal anything, he just takes it and makes it hard for Dora and friends to get it back. Just once, instead of Dora asking for help finding the lost loot, I want her to call him out on it.

Swiper throws (object of day).
Swiper: Heh-heh-heh. You'll never find it now.
Dora: Wait, so you're just going to throw it away?
Swiper: Yeah, and you'll never find it.
Dora: So you didn't need it or anything?
Swiper: Uh...no, I guess not.
Dora: You're not, like, starving, and need to sell it for food?
Swiper: Well...I...no. No, I just felt like slowing you guys down I guess. And you'll never...
Dora: (Interrupting) Yeah, we'll never find it now. Got that, thanks. So, you just showed up here to take the stuff that we need and hide it, even though you clearly didn't need it yourself, and seem to gain nothing from the experience other than %#^$ing up our day. Do I have that about right?
Swiper: (Clearly uncomfortable now) Well I didn't mean to ruin your day or...I just thought it would be fun, like a game. You know, hide and seek or something.
Dora: Yeah, we're kind of in the middle of something right now, which I think you knew, didn't you?
Swiper: (Hands behind back fidgeting with his tail while looking down at his feet) Yeah, I suppose I did.
Dora: And you just show up, take our stuff, and then toss it in a tree. For no reason. Do I have that right?
Swiper: (Quietly, starting to cry a little) Yes.
Dora: I SAID DO I HAVE THAT RIGHT!
Swiper: (Sobbing loudly) Yes, yes.
Dora: Good. I'm glad we've gotten that out of the way. Swiper?
Swiper: What?
Dora: You're an %#$hole.

Now I know, it's a kids show. I'm over thinking the whole thing. In my defense though, you can only watch it so many times before you start to wonder just what Swiper's %#$@ing problem is. If you're going to steal, at least pawn it off, maybe buy a pair of pants to match your Zorro mask and little gloves. Is it too much to ask that the character have some motivation?

Maybe a crack problem?

It's Like Raging Against the Machine, But From Your Parents' Basement

I would like to take today's post to address a topic that seems to be worsening lately. I see it all the time. In movie theaters. In chat rooms. In comic book and video game shops. Even on Slashdot. (Especially on Slashdot.)

Nerdrage.

A lot of people suffering from nerdrage don't even realize they have a problem. They simply feel that they are standing up for a set of standards that they believe in and feel they must defend, some ethical code that should prevent the use of characters or events that they once followed to be diluted in some fashion. So how can you, as a reader of DLOG, tell if you have succumbed to nerdrage? Lets try a few tests, shall we?

What is your immediate reaction to the following image?

1. It's an interesting composition as well as an effective bit of foreshadowing to the events of the film.


2. It's a disappointing reminder that the second trilogy did not live up to my expectations.


3. GAAAH! GEORGE LUCAS RAPED MY CHILDHOOD! THAT KID WAS SO @&#%ING ANNOYING! JAR JAR BINKS IS THE DEVIL!

Hmmm. Let's try another one. Here's the newly redesigned Starship Enterprise that will be featured in next year's new feature lenght film.

1. Interesting. It's kind of sleeker than I remember the Enterprise being.


2. The lower hull is too small. Look how much space is left behind the nacelle pylons on the TV version. The neck, I'll admit, may just be due to the angle, or could really be a result of the shortened aft section, which is why I am waiting for the trailer before I really decide whether I hate it or not. So far, I'm leaning towards liking it, again, because of the angle of the shot. But the rear of the lower hull, where the shuttle bay should be, just looks too short even at the angle seen in the preview.


3. It's clear that these guys don't care about Star Trek. This movie isn't even attempting to be cannon. And they're not including Shatner. WHAT THE #%$* IS THAT? MAKING A TREK MOVIE ABOUT TOS WITHOUT THE SHAT? %#$@ YOU J.J. "SHOULD HAVE STOPPED AT ALIAS PIECE OF #%$@" ABRAMS. YOU GO TO HELL! YOU GO TO HELL AND YOU DIE!

Finally, how does the following statement make you feel?

Each and every one of the Halo games sucked.

1. Well, while not the most innovative games, they did prove that a quality first person shooter could succeed on a console.


2. I actually quite enjoyed those games, and find them to stand equal to any other first person shooter game out there.


3. You're a fag, and you and your entire fag family should die in a fire.

If you answered 3 to any of these questions, then you are absolutely in the grips of nerdrage. If you answered 2, you need to watch out - it's all too easy to slip over the edge from "thoughtful consumer" to "rabid, raving fanboy". If you bothered answering the questions at all, you might be surprised to find that you are, in fact, a nerd. Welcome to our fold.

Please people - be aware that nerdrage is a serious issue. Just because we can hide behind internet anonymity doesn't make it alright to rage against our fellow man. We can all be fans, and still respect someone else's opinions and visions of the works that we have enjoyed in the past. If we disapprove, it's as easy as not watching, reading, playing, or spending money on those works of which you disapprove, or simply turning the other cheek on those whose opinions differ from our own.

Unless of course someone tries to @%#$ up the Monkey Island series. Them we hunt down and painfully destroy.

It Came From YouTube: Kidd Video

Like a lot of kids in my generation, I watched too much television when I was young. It wasn't as easy back then. We didn't have Disney or Nickelodeon. We had one day a week, in fact only half a day, to pack in all the cartoon goodness we could get. We had Saturday mornings.

The thing of it is, you forget some of these things, and then one day, you randomly remember some show you watched as a kid. Not a big name. Not a Smurfs or a Tom & Jerry. Not even a He-Man and the Masters of the Universe. No, some show that was on a couple of years, somehow hooked you, and then vanished without a trace.

Such a show was Kidd Video.

Kidd Video had a typically ridiculous premise. A rock band of four young people gets sucked into a cartoon world, The Flip Side, where they are pursued by Master Blaster, a fat guy hell bent on forcing them to create music for him to profit from while making everyone else do anything he wanted (kind of like the RIAA actually). There was of course a fairy on their side, complete with headband and leg warmers. Seriously, the only way this show could have gotten more eighties is if Micheal Jackson had occasionally run through holding a Pepsi with his head on fire.

So what was the hook? They were a band in the spawning MTV generation. That allowed two things. First, each episode featured a popular song being redone by the band playing in the background, typically during a Scooby Doo-esque chase scene. I distinctly remember them doing a cover of Frankie Goes to Hollywood's "Relax" (I'm guessing they didn't concern themselves as much back then about song meanings). Then, at the end of each episode, they would have an actual video by the band.

Well, I got curious (which is almost always a bad thing), and Googled them, and by God, there they were. The ridiculous outfits, the mediocre but catchy tunes, the whole mess, right there on YouTube. There are times when I don't know if the internet is a good thing or a bad thing in terms of information never dying. This, my friends, is one of those times. The highlight of the video, for me anyway, is that it gives us a taste of what diversity meant in the eighties. As you will see, the band featured three white guys with different hair types and colors (which was all the diversity one required back then), and a Latina girl who says not-at-all-stereotypical things like "Aye aye aye". It's a small world indeed.

And so, without further ado, I give you: Kidd Video

Harold and Kumar Go Back to the Future

As a geek, there are certain shows that the crowd I hang with (read as "talk to online") are drawn to. These tend towards science fiction and fantasy, shows that probably never really took off to achieve main stream glory, but still amassed a reasonable cult following. You know what I'm talking about. The Star Treks and Dr. Whos, the Buffys and Fireflys. That kind of thing.

One of these shows has come up in multiple conversations, and seems to be, if not incredibly well liked, at least recognized as being interesting. It seemed well made. It starred reasonable talents like Jerry O'Connell and John Rhys-Davies. It was prematurely cancelled by Fox, which almost invariably means that it was high quality and people loved it (not that I'm bitter over their cancellations of Buffy, Firefly, The Tick, or The Family Guy). The thing is, I never have and probably never will watch the show based purely on the name.

I am, of course, referring to Sliders.

See, as we have established here on multiple occasions, my sense of humor ranges from dry wit to childish, and most shades in between. That means that the thirteen year old boy in me can't fathom someone sitting around trying to come up with an edgy, sciifi name for a show and settling on Sliders. Even if I didn't live in the Midwest and associate the name with White Castle (a burger joint I have never actually been to, and since turning vegetarian doubt I ever will), I can't hear it without at least a tiny inner giggle at the connotations.

According to Wikipedia, the name is a reference to their method of traveling between dimensions, sliding through wormholes. Not very dignified, but not all of us can have a Tardis at our disposal I suppose. Nonetheless, I stand firm in the opinion that any other name would have been an improvements. Seriously. Dimension Jumpers. Wormhole Riders. Alternate Universe Traveling Group Selected To Appeal To The Vast Majority Of Television Viewers Despite Falling Into Slightly Cliched Roles. Anything.

Of course, I could be missing out. Hell, I missed out on the first five seasons of Buffy the Vampire Slayer simply because I couldn't bring myself to watch a show called Buffy the Vampire Slayer, and as a result almost missed out on what I consider to be one of the finest shows ever on television. So maybe someday, if I come across it at a video store, I'll get over my naming prejudice and rent Sliders. If so, though, I'll make sure I'm in the television or science fiction section of the store.

With a name like that, better not be renting it from the small, adults-only section.

Nerd Ho!

Okay, I was originally going to try and avoid the whole "I found this cool thing on the internet" type of post here, but the thing is, this is really my contact with the outside world, so if it doesn't go here, you may miss out on some high quality content out there. As such, today will be the first of these entries. At some point I'll have to start putting labels on these so you guys can parse out the stuff you don't want to read.

So today we discuss a newer art form that I'm guessing most of you are unfamiliar with: nerdcore hip hop, a.k.a. "geeksta rap". It is exactly what it sounds like. Someone decided that they wanted to be a rapper, but instead of focusing on gang violence and life in the hood, they would discuss Star Wars/Star Trek, computers and games. Needless to say, these are my kind of people.

The reason we're discussing this topic is that I have recently become hooked on the music of the man who coined the phrase "nerdcore hip hip", one MC Frontalot. Frontalot if first and foremost a rapper, and in my opinion, he's good. His music is reminiscent if Eminem, except I can't specifically recall Frontalot mentioning the need to kill anyone. (As a side note I'm actually a pretty big fan of Eminem, but I equate listening to his albums with watching a horror movie - it's something you have to be in the mood for, and I'm pretty sure it's not healthy to listen to often.)

Follow the link and skip over to the mp3 page, and you'll find some amazing stuff there. It's not for everyone of course - like myself, he has a pretty extensive vocabulary, but he doesn't let that stop him from using a four-letter word if that's what's called for. The music behind the raps vary, but is for the most part excellent (I particularly enjoyed the sampling on the remixed Nerdcore Hiphop (Yos Mix), which many will recognize as coming from Revenge of the Nerds).

The fact that he uses a combination of math, computer, and gaming references with equal skill meshes well with the topic ranges. From old school text adventure games to the wonders of aging, he covers a lot of ground. There's even one on there he was commissioned for to be included on a kids album discussing little red riding hood from differing points of view. I tested this one out the Princess this morning on the way in, and subsequently had to listen to it four times before she got to school.

So there you go. Check it out, download some music legally, and have a good time. Just don't blame me if these things get stuck in your head. Oh, and don't ask me to explain any of the computer references. I don't even get them all.