Sometimes you manage to not say things

During a meeting today wearing 'Red' came up. I had heard about it and was in fact wearing a nice Red tie so I was covered for whatever it was. Unfortunately, I still don't really have any idea what it was all about because when someone else asked that very question I had to focus my efforts on the brain - mouth link. I did hear something about hearts and women, and hey, "I heart women" so yeah, I'm all for it.
Generally when someone asks a question something in my mind takes a quick shuffle and throws out the most unusual combination of related things that somehow might be reasonable. To this question it wound up being, "It's like a medal, it means you killed a midget during one on one battle." Which I immediately knew was not something I should actually say but as is often the case I spent the next few minutes of the meeting trying to figure out where it came from and what I would have followed that up with when someone called me on it. Which, strangely, people rarely do. I highly suggest that if someone says something like this you should respond with, "What the F@&%?"

1. Wearing colors on specific days somehow makes things, like curing cancer, happen. OK?
   
2. St. Patrick's day is the biggest wear a color day.
3. Leprechauns.
4. "It's like a medal, it means you killed a midget in one on one battle."
5. "Matt, Dude... What the F@&%?"
6. "Sorry, when I was kid I asked my Grandpa why people wear Green on St. Patrick's day and he said: 'Well, these days it seems to mean your thirsty, but when I was your age it meant you'd fought in the war and killed one of those bastard Leprechauns in defense of your liberty, country, and daughters virginity!' I was 12 before someone corrected me and now days whenever someone talks about wearing colors for something it makes me think of my Grandpa. You don't want to know what he said when I asked him about virginity."

Yes, that is how my mind works. I don't mean to offend (or intend to attack in a effort to earn a medal) any midgets, nor to imply they are all magical. If the connection my mind made upset you please take you aggression out on the WWE and Hornswaggle as I've seen more of him than any other small person... ever.

Christmas 2007 - A Damn Near White Christmas

I've lived in "Snow Country" for six and a half years and this is the closest I've come to having a White Christmas. I've had plenty of snow around the holiday, getting snow the day before and the day after, but crystal clear on the actual day. I'm plenty old enough to understand that it won't actually make the day any better, dry turkey won't magically start sweating on the table, Grandma's mug of Eggnog won't fill itself, like the magic medicine bottle she acts like it is and that doorbell won't ring with that long lost friend/relative you were just talking about on the other side.

We got a couple hours of snow but it was those tiny flakes that people in California would talk about for years, I myself remember it snowing exactly twice in my life down in San Jose, once in 78 or 79 and again almost exactly 10 years later. It never stuck to the ground and I didn't even get to make a snowball but it was so outrageous that I know I'll remember it for quite a few more years.

When it got dark it snowed for another half hour and it was just enough to stick to the tops of the cars in the parking lot. Still not quite enough snow to get away calling it a White Christmas but the tiny hand prints on the roofs of the cars show that some little kids got lifted up by their parents to scoop off a handful or two to throw around tells me that it'll be good enough for them for quite a few years.

Merry Christmas,

Matt

Half Read Review 2: The Elements of Style by William Strunk Jr. & E.B. White

Someday, I'd like to make a couple dollars off of a story or two I've written. To do that I have to work at being a better writer. There's not much good advice out there that can actually make a bad story into a good one, but there is plenty of fodder for sale that will tell you how to make it look like a good story. Books that tell you to add a facial tick to you lead character, or to throw them in unfamiliar places to see how they would react - Hey, how about a scene in a bathhouse? It worked in "Martian Time-Slip" why not your book? Though the title would suggest it might be all about adding nifty stylized (page 50) elements to your story to shine it up real nice, it is not. It's falls somewhere on the other side of the coin and it would appear the goal was the opposite. To help writers write simple sentences that mean what the author intends. William Strunk Jr.'s goal was to eliminate ambiguity in writing and allow a person to get the meaning of a word, sentence, paragraph, page, chapter, and, with any luck the entire story the first time through.

This isn't the typical book that lends itself to a "Half Read Review" but at just about the half way point (on page 47) I found an example that sums up the entire book:

Flamable. An oddity, chiefly useful in saving lives. The common work meaning "combustible" is inflammable. But some people are thrown off by the in- and think inflammable means "not combustible." For this reason, trucks carrying gasoline or explosives are now marked FLAMMABLE. Unless you are operating such a truck and hence are concerned with the safety of children and illiterates, use inflammable.

The rest of the book has the same wit to it but is written in a more conversational tone so it doesn't feel like you're getting a lesson. It's a tiny book and intentionally so, it covers only the meat of the English language and suggests that if you cook it right you won't need the gravy. This is a a good supplement for a struggling student having a hard time grasping the basics. Best way to use it is as a gift for that loved one or friend that just dropped a 1000 page manuscript in your lap and said "Be totally honest - Do you like it?"

The Elements of Style, Fourth Edition

Half Read Review 1: Alien Planet by Fletcher Pratt

I have a thing for Sci-Fi from the innocent years - the time before spaceships, TVs, computers and even better phones. The stuff from around that time has a real sense of adventure and awakens in me a belief that anything is possible. I still like a modern sci-fi book but when I'm reading them I find myself thinking how close-fetched they are and am prone to judging their knowledge of science a bit too harshly. With some of these old gems it was all off the cuff and you get a sense of how little we really knew about things. From taking a hot air balloon to the moon to eating sausages made out of charcoal to building spaceships in the woods out of mercury, a ray gun and some good old space man ingenuity the limits really were their own imaginations. Which brings us to Alien Planet by Fletcher Pratt, which very nearly has two out of those three crazy things.

A naked green hot chick on the cover is what got me to pick it up. A brief apology in the forward about some of the scientific analysis quoted in the footnotes being from the original 1932 publication and not really being up to snuff, sold it. This isn't a readily available book but there are still plenty in circulation as Ace seems to have bound this copy to last. I had to scan my own copy in since most of the copies on Amazon didn't have covers attached. If you click on it you'll get a bigger version that shows my copy made it through at least the Goodwill and bookwagon.com before I bought it, furthermore markings on the inside suggest it's been through at least three more used book stores throughout the years.

First off before we go any further I have to say that there have not been any green people in the book nor any females come to think of it, and damn sure no naked green hot chicks. What's worse at the half way point we've just flown past Jupiter so I probably wont get any either. Secondly, after reading the Prologue by the author (in 1932) that is after the Forward by the publisher (in 1963 or 1973, it's unclear) I can see that this was a bit of an inside joke as the book is supposed be skeptically transcribed by the author from some increasingly illegible metal disks that were found in the jungle and may or may not be based on true events and in his own opinion deal with scientific things that are highly unlikely.

The story itself is very simple; a thing falls out of space, two slightly stuffy dudes, on vacation together, duck as it narrowly misses them on it's way down. (I should add that no question of sexual orientation is ever implied, but as stated, no female characters have reared their faces let alone their firm green buttocks so I chose to think of them as a couple.) Eventually a dude crawls out of it and the stuffy dudes nurse him back to health as he learns to speak Shakespearean English and tries to explain interplanetary exploration with only the words that can be found in "The Merchant of Venice". Once that's accomplished he begins trying to get enough mercury to build another space ship to fly back to his planet and save it. These fine chaps help and eventually one gets stuck on board and has to come with him.

Fletcher Pratt's alien "Ashembe" is a success, he looks enough like us that the main characters aren't freaked out but he thinks in an honestly alien way. I'd go so far as to say that if it were written 20 years later he would have had to change it because the alien says things that would have suggested he was a favorable image of a Commie. This is something that is found quite often in early sci-fi aliens and I think reveals a lot about the state of mind the average American had in a time when so much was owned by so few. So far, Ashembe has yet to lose his wonder at our weird ways and I have yet to lose my interest in his weird ways as they continue to slip into view.

The writing is clear and easy to follow, there are no long alien words you have to remember or strange rambling passages with political undertones. I'm just starting to wonder if the stuffy human will make it back to Earth and I've almost given up on the hot naked green chick but I don't mind because this is a fun read and I've got a way to go before I have to say bye to these fools in space.

Half Read Reviews

Once you finish a book you have made an investment and like most valuable things you'd like to protect that investment. When the end doesn't live up to your expectations it angers you and makes you think you've wasted your time reading it, but somewhere along the line there was a point before you cared how it would end and were happy just being along for the ride.

An excellent example of this would be Stephens King's "Dark Tower" series. As long as I was just along for the ride I enjoyed it, but when he had found his end for it and started writing to that end it ceased being as fun. Probably because as he's been very vocal about through the years, he didn't know how it was going to end and was just as much along for the ride as we were. There was a change in feel as the characters strove towards that final thankya and for the last three books there was a cloud over their heads as each scene ended with an unspoken good-bye. That's not to say they weren't still good stories but they were the end and with the end comes the judgments, the second guesses and the, "Uh, where's he going with this?" that take you out of the story.

"Half Read Reviews" are an attempt to catch that moment when I go from "along for the ride" to "Uh..." Hopefully they will reveal a perspective that's often overlooked by a need to make judgement on the whole.

It's a bit harsh to do one on the Dark Tower since it's been years since I was at the half way point but I do remember waiting in anticipation for a long time with a fear that he wouldn't finish the story at all and I had already read the ending. I think if I had to it would simply be "Worth the ride!"

A Haunting: 60 Minutes of Creepy

On a lazy day at home I'm prone to leaving the TV on while doing house work or polishing up that novel (AKA sipping tea on the couch in my PJ's), and whatever happens to be on stays on. Saturday was a lazy day. The show was "A Haunting," not necessarily my normal fare but there was some real crap everywhere else I looked on the ol' dial.

It's a straightforward - benefit of doubt - dramatization with sexy actors, and the real people usually getting the silhouette treatment to protect their identity. I don't know about you but if I ever have to face off against monsters from the underworld in my own damn house I could give a shit what the neighbors think. That's like stubbing your toe, on the way to the hospital with a gunshot wound, and doing the Jack Tripper jumping around for 10 minutes on one leg going, "Oo, ah, oh, ouwiie, MU-THER LUVER!" Worried about the kids getting teased? Teach them this little comeback and they should be fine, "Yeah that's my mom on TV kicking some angry spirit ass. You want to make sumptin' of it? After what I've seen I got no problem cuttin' your heart out, burying it in my backyard and waitin' for your ass to try and haunt me - just so I can watch you get your ass exorcised!" I've glanced at this show in the past but never really found it very interesting and after the first 2 or 3 episodes I loafed through I still felt the same way but then like a slap in the face came "The Presence."

...if every episode were this good the show could give "Heroes" a run for its money.

As most people (with 1/18th Indian blood to boot) will tell you, I have had my share of creepy unexplained experiences and though I would have preferred them to have been of the flying saucer kind they have been of the creepy ghost kind instead. I don't want to go into "Kelly Park Night of 1000 Cats" right now but it was enough for me to carry a grain of salt in my breast pocket for just such incidences. I'm not jumpy either but when the creepy stuff started happening it worked. I don't know how much can be attributed to the special effects team and how much to the directing and acting but it was actually scary. The blood flowing down the walls was great and when they got to the floating head breathing in the teenage daughters ear I put down the tea and picked up the brandy. A few minutes later the phone rang and whoops, there went the brandy.

The last thing I saw was a dude (the new husband I believe) doing one of those popping up straight from the ground things made famous in that crappy Dracula movie a few years ago (made me say - Whoa!) and the effect looked better here. I hit record and will wait until there's someone else in the house to finish it!

A big congratulations to the team that put this episode together - the actors, the directors, the special effects team, the writers (or victims, gray line and all) you showed what was possible on a show like this and if every episode were this good the show could give "Heroes" a run for its money. If you're ever flipping through the channels and you see this episode on; stop, turn on all the lights, grab someone prone to jumping into your lap, pour a couple glasses of brandy into those large lead goblets in the cupboard that have the etchings on the side that might just pass for crosses in a pinch and call it a night.

Today will be another one of those lazy days but I think I'll steer clear of anything spooky, hmm, it looks like "Taxi" is on and - oh look so is "Jersey Girl." Those should be safe!

Christmas 2006 - Ah, Oh, Yeah, Whoa

Ah, as I crawl out of my holiday bliss and into sobriety I take a moment to reflect on the beauty of a day filled with egg nog, peppermint mocha lattes - coffee less of course (and sans any other ingredient that wasn't of an alcohol base), wine, Guinness (it's not just for March you know) and tea.

Oh, the magic of passing out early enough that you wake up in time to go trick or treating...
What's that you say "There's no trick or treating on Christmas!"
How odd, that's exactly what the people in our neighborhood kept saying.

Didn't stop them from giving us the candy we wanted though.

Yeah, the thrill of antiseptic on our fingers as we bandage them from the wounds they incurred at the wrath of our $6.99 full size artificial Christmas tree that requires each and every branch, covered in razor sharp fiberglass and poked full of loose binding wire, to be fondled with extreme care to achieve a life like semblance of outside - inside. (Actually it does look quite good after all that work!)

Whoa, to the empty tree bottom as all presents were purchased online this year and due sometime before next year.

Merry Christmas (insert and or substitute any other holiday that you might prefer) everybody!

From LifeHack.org: Creating Hardworking Idiots

LifeHack.org has a rather interesting article that helped to put into perspective something I've always thought. It's OK to be lazy if your clever. In fact it's better to be a little lazy than to be hardworking and smart. If you've ever had any job what so ever, or even walked through a place where people are working, you've come across the annoying manager that wants you to push the rock up the hill all day even though it will do no one any good to have a hilltop full of rocks. That's the hard working but not too bright manager that tends to make more work than needs to be done mostly so everyone is working hard, the advice for them "GET RID OF THEM!" Oh, and it mentions the not too bright but lazy ones as not worth bothering to get rid of.

Me? I'm a proud lazy person who gets the job done by using my brain. "That hill? DY-NO MITE IT! Guess I can let this rock sit here, eh?"

While I've been a frequent reader of lifehack.org for a while this particular post brought to light another great web site that I had yet to see but fits in wonderfully with my beliefs on management and leadership. Do it right and it will make your life easier. Doing it right does not mean doing it more / faster / longer / harder. It's called slowleadership.org and after giving it a quick look through I could see that the post have gotten better over time and that they were pretty good to start with. It looks like I'll be adding that to my list of pages to check back on often.

Please world try to understand "Work Smarter, Not Harder!"

A Stoner in the Zombie House

There are dreams I tend to hold on to for longer than others, like I'm trying to figure out where they fit in. Is it some question I need to answer, some inner demon I need to face? Was it only a small part of a larger dream, and if so was it something in the rest of the dream that was important? Sometimes I'll remember and the dream will politely leave my memory, but the best ones eventually demand to be put somewhere. This next one became the back-story for a character in a screenplay I've been slowly (make that s-l-o-w-l-y) writing. In fact it's one of the reasons I've let the story grow so slowly. Almost every scene in the screenplay has it's source in some completely obscure event that either happened or I imagined separately. They're the things you can't write intentionally when trying to get from point A to point B. In this case it was 'guy number 3' who became 'Zeno' because I couldn't get this out of my head until I found its home. This is closer to the dream that it came from than what it will be when it makes its way on to the screen. In the film it's a flashback that explains what got Zeno to stop doing drugs.

"A Stoner in the Zombie House"

The street is almost empty and darkness has just arrived though it's not a natural darkness, it's the kind that's still just as bright as day where you are but everything around you is clouded in shadow. Almost like a fog of night but without any actual fog to explain it. In fact a little fog would actually make it a little less creepy. The sole person on the street is staggering towards a large two story yellow house. His eyes are red and his face is drawn in concentration as he focuses on every step he takes.

"...it was this third that seemed the least effective yet required the greatest effort."

He's been through this before and has come up with several ways to compensate for the misbalance he is experiencing. The first is always to carry valuable things in the inner pocket of his jacket while walking, (things like his whisky bottle or his large stash of drugs) as a precaution against falling. He knows it won't stop him from falling but they stand a better chance of surviving the fall in there. The second is to always have a large cloud of smoke around you, this way if you start to fall people will have already left you a cushion of space so you don't have to worry about bumping into others, causing them to punch you in the face, and thus knocking you down. The third apparently involves taking very slow steps but moving your arms as though you were walking at a normal pace, it was this third that seemed the least effective yet required the greatest effort.

When he finally arrives at the porch of the house he pauses to refresh his breath and reinforce his smoke shield, after all you never know what to expect at one these parties, not being invited and all. A close look at his eyes suggests that he's pondering something, possibly that this is a really nice house for a party, perhaps too nice a house for him. After a few seconds he squints his eyes and raises his brow as it hits him. Promptly he dips a hand back into his pocket and after a few minutes has fashioned several large 'providers of smoke-screen' which he ignites and takes a deep breath off of as he prepares to open the door. He's never been to a college party that couldn't get past a person being of a lower class if they also happened to be providing a needed service.

He throws the door open as he exhales creating a comically large puff of smoke that seems to fill the room and is greeted by a large communal roar "Ajjuuuuuhhhk!!" In the midst of the confusion he starts shoving his hand made invitations into people mouths as he makes his way towards a comfortable looking chair (surprisingly empty.) He theorizes that if he can make it to the chair they won't be able to kick him out. His fears are put to rest when he realizes that they are still cheering for him "Mrraaaaghhh, Huff hhu, mrrr!" Must be some fraternity motto or something so he responds in kind "Mrag! Huf! Schmrrr!" and sits down.

"Red at night sailors delight, Red and Blue, run for it foo'!"

Now that he no longer has to focus so much energy on his balance he's free to take the room and the party in. As he does so he realizes that this must be a costume party and certainly an upper class one the way that everyone is all dressed up for it. My god, they must have hired a whole make up studio to do their faces. He began to laugh as he realized they looked worse than him. No wonder they let him in, people have often said he 'looks like death warmed over.'

They didn't take much notice to him, or each other for that matter, which he felt was for the best since he wasn't really looking forward to sharing much more. Although no one seemed to ask for anymore they seemed to be crowding around him quite a bit as he built a safe cushion of smoke around himself. Often they were close enough that he could see that they had actually gone so far as to place animated maggots on their clothes. 'Fucking rich people, always gotta' go the extra mile for their stupid parties!" he said, but by now he had a very dense cloud about him and it came out more like "Fufpprff gog ppapppappp!" This in turn prompted a quick response from the crowd "MrrrmmrrrrGGGhh!!!" So as an apology he set up another round on him for his friends before passing out briefly.

When he awoke his cloud was gone and it seemed that the partygoers were looking at him in a way that made him feel rather uncomfortable so he immediately set about rebuilding the status quo. About the time he felt the cloud had reached a decent thickness rays of light began pouring in through the window. At first he thought it might be the sun rising but then he remembered that old saying "Red at night sailors delight, Red and Blue, run for it foo'!"

Suddenly, the door came down, guns began to fire, and the partygoers started to drop. It was definitely time to go, so he started to run as fast as he could, but unfortunately he had forgotten to stand up first and if walking looked odd before running looked even stranger now. It was like he had completely forgotten how to actually run. He was moving his feet and legs in the air as quickly as he could, up and down, to and fro, whatever way he could as fast as he could. Another shot rang out and the dream ended abruptly.

For legal purposes I must point out that getting Zombies stoned is no guarantee of survival in a situation like this.

Your best bets if you find yourself in an undead incident are shotguns, chainsaws, and axes. A sofa on fire can be used to ward them off but will ultimately bring more to the area.

In the version that's made it to the script he finds out that he was also shouting, "You'll never catch me you fucking pigs!" as he's running in the air, the police don't shoot him and he finally manages a successful rehabilitation. Only problem is he's done so many drugs by this point in his life that he still always seems a little high.

Usually I'm the star in my own dreams, I may not be playing myself in it but I'm at least one of the characters, when I'm not they tend to transpire like a movie with close ups and soundtracks (which is always weird) and generally bad special effects. They also tend to have real actors playing the parts, in this case when I originally had this dream the main character was being played by Jack Black. Sorry Jack, and I swear you kept your clothes on the entire time!

The Kung Fu Festival

I went to the "Kung Fu Festival" last night, bet you didn't know they had such a thing.

Well yeah, of course they have Kung Fu Conventions and such (I think) but that's not the type of thing I'm talking about. I mean "Festival" like the "Renaissance Festivals" - with the jousting, and the smelly people saying 'hark' and 'hail', and drinking mead with their wenches, and comparing their cod pieces, and archery and - well, uh -- actually I've never been to one of those either but I'm sure all this goes on, and if it doesn't get your act together folks, that's what it was like back then! Heck, throw in a sprinkling of "the consumption" for the poets to be all nostalgic over if you have to.

"Sake Flavored Cotton Candy"

No, this was the "Kung Fu Festival" and what a blast. Perhaps it would have been more accurate to call it a "Kung Fu / Samurai (Film) Festival" but that would have suggested that there would be movies shown. This was more of a festival held in the style of Kung Fu films and not necessarily good ones at that.

It had a full collection of all of the trappings of modern commercialization that tends to ruin these types of events: From the Sake Flavored Cotton Candy to the overabundance of people dressed as the same person - in this case it was either skinny kids without shirts screaming like Bruce Lee or their fat fathers wearing 'blind' contacts trying to give massages to all the pretty girls or worse yet the Chuck Norris look alike contestants (mostly with oversized blond afro's, and although I don't really recall him having one I don't doubt it either) that looked just about as much like former Elvis impersonators as they did Chuck Norris, and that's not a fine line to tread. Speaking of Chuck Norris, yup the man was there. If you looked hard enough you could see him hiding in the corners of tents ready to take out punks wearing shirts that said "Chuck Norris ______ _______ ______". (It should be noted that Chuck Norris actually gets a kick out of the "Chuck Norris Facts" but I am one of the few people who saw that terrible cartoon that was made starring him in the eighties and it left me thinking 'he makes a better bad guy.')

He wasn't the only celebrity there either, at one point Sulu(!) went running around brandishing his sword at everyone and occasionally grabbing a woman or two to "protect" As a geek I'm quite aware that in that particular episode of Star Trek he was actually using a Fencing sword and that that is not very Kung Fu at all, but unfortunately as a child when I first saw it I was too young to understand the minute differences in sword fighting styles, a sword was a sword. To be honest for a while I thought that Sulu(!) actually was Bruce Lee since I had never actually seen any of his movies and the only image I had of him was the one that was on a poster, in a garage across the street from where I lived (Where he also had 'illegal' nunchucks and throwing stars and liked to brag about how 'illegal and dangerous' they were, then would promptly leave the room while the local kids were playing with them. By the way kids, nunchucks hurt like hell even when you're the one swinging them around with your puny 4 or 5 year old arms.) I suppose the neat thing about this was that he seemed to be doing the exact same stuff he did on that episode, he had this badly edited fuzziness around him that made me suspect that they had just stolen that part of the show and edited it into this dream. It was more apparent when he would appear in the Black and White section of the festival.

"By the way kids, nunchucks hurt like hell..."

I've seen a good deal of Samurai movies in my time and a good deal of them were made in black and white and unfortunately I had to watch them with subtitles, usually unreadable ones at that since they insisted on using either white or black and half of it was always the same color as what was happening in the movie itself. The Black and White section wasn't really all that much fun for me, partly for this reason, but not entirely. I did seem to be alone in my boredom though as everyone else seemed to be having a blast yelling randomly for what seemed like hours and hours then holding up signs that would say something short like "Hi!" or the opposite, but equally marginally funny version of saying a one syllable word then holding up paragraph after paragraph of writing. I guess it was kind of cool walking around in black and white just for the effect though. As I left the area there were notices that the evenings events were about to begin and with names like "Wire Battle" and "Samurai Showdown" I felt a compulsion to quicken my pace in that direction.

For the "Wire Battle" I was expecting to see some really interesting acrobatics or at least something absurd in the vein of MXC but when I arrived there it was actually a reenactment of the Bazooka Circus trapeze scene in Fear and Loathing in Las Vegas. I was not mentally prepared for this, but it may not be something that you ever should be prepared for. If you're not familiar with this scene, you must correct that, but in the mean time it should suffice simply to say that it included a pregnant woman giving birth, a midget being shot out of a cannon and a doctor with a giant set of scissors. Not convinced? Damn, if that doesn't make you want to see it for yourself I've got nothing.

As for the tent with the sign that said "Samurai Showdown" I was grateful for the previous disappointment, since it convinced me to do a bit of investigating before standing in line and plunking down a small fortune. I snuck my head through a crack in the tent and as my eyes adjusted to the light the world suddenly took on an abstract distinctiveness, this was shaping up to be the gem of the night.

The tent was filled with all manner of somber ceremonial goodies and lit by hundreds of candles that sent off a misleading army of shadows that appeared ready to attack at any moment. From my vantage point I could see just one man in the tent, he was dressed modestly with a dull orange kimono that gave off the impression it had been crafted by a quality artisan at some point in the distant past, beneath this his faded black pants billowed out from an unseen breeze. He had his black hair tied behind him in a ponytail, as would be expected, and the hilt of his blade, held in its scabbard was loosely gripped by his right hand ready for action.

A gong sounded and another man entered from the distant opening, he was wearing a bright orange coat that looked entirely out of place and was brandishing his sword in both hands out in front of him as though pointing at his adversary's brow would somehow defeat him. Behind him the door was propped open and the next contestant, also wearing a garishly bright orange jacket, stepped in to watch. Presumably this event had just begun and I was thrilled to think that I had not missed anything.

The first contestant took two loud shuffling steps forward and began to scream. Confused I looked toward the other samurai only to see him silently returning his sword to its sheath. Had I looked a moment later I would not have thought he had breathed let alone moved at all.

Out of nowhere two large men picked up the dead man and hurled him into a corner. When they moved toward the door I noticed that the next person, who was as pale as could be expected, had begun to turn and leave. He was stopped by one of the large men and thrust back into the room where he was promptly chopped in two. Simultaneously his replacement had begun walking proudly into the tent with just enough time to wet himself before finding the same fate. I stood frozen as this series of event continued to unfold in front of me for far longer than I would have expected I could withstand nor would I readily admit.

"It was the only thing I saw that day that was faster than the Samurai's sword."

Yet strangely, the events that transpired showed only marginal variation: Occasionally the contestant would stand ready for action confident in the knowledge that the person before him was a fool and that he would benefit from his opponents over confidence having faced such a poor opponent. More often it was a repeat of the first three, either inching forward to die without a clue what they had gotten themselves into or immediately lapsing into some form of panic, be it soiling themselves in some way, begging for mercy or trying to escape. In one instance I bore witness to a father following his son and couldn't help thinking that he may have stood a chance had he gone first for I had never seen a tear form and drop from a man's eye with such speed. It was the only thing I saw that day that was faster than the Samurai's sword.

Eventually my senses did return to me and as I ran from my hiding place in hopes that I could warn the people in line, I found that I had begun to float away. In a few seconds the tent no longer obscured my view of the line and I could see that the orange-coated men numbered in the hundreds, perhaps thousands. I shouted many times for them to leave even though I knew already that I was too high for them to hear me. Eventually my voice grew hoarse but I feared that if I stopped trying to yell it would undoubtedly turn to tears. It was in this state that I awoke for a very early breakfast and a much welcome sunrise.

Ordering Chinese Food on a Bus

When I closed my eyes I found myself on a bus traveling across the country. It would only stop for about a half an hour at every place, and although I'm sure we stayed in some hotels along the way we were hardly there long enough to actually see a town, so I supposed that it was not actually something you could call a tour bus. It seemed to me that we were on our way to an airport eventually to be taken over seas somewhere, but it wasn't really clear where. Up until Detroit things had been rather boring, it was about then that reality finally started to crack.

When I tried to get back on the bus the driver shut the door in my face then was very insistent that I show her my ticket. Now when I say on my face I really mean 'on my face' I had already stepped up the first step and was literally thrown back by the door. Now this insistence on a ticket would normally not seem out of place, but considering that I had been on this very bus for the most part of a week, and with this very driver as it made its way from California somewhat irked me. The more so since I didn't really know if I had a ticket, I'd never seen one nor did I really know what it was supposed to look like. I reached into my pocket to find several scraps of paper that could only have passed for a bus ticket sometime before computers and all these fancy 'colors' they use these days. Finally satisfied, we were allowed back on the bus with a warning to 'get our shit together, or we'd be finding ourselves on the side of a very lonely road someday.' Which far from motivated me to take any greater care in responsibility for my tickets and instead guaranteed that eye contact with this loathsome creature would be more uncomfortable for her the next time our paths crossed. I was sure that before the next stop I would have found a suitable face that would be enough to frighten her out of at least one nights sleep. I set to work on my face as it reflected angrily back at me in the window and practiced a few variations of my favorites.

"...while I found that intriguing, I did not find it appetizing..."

The next thing I remembered was waking on the back of the bus as it was driving into a restaurant in New York. Yes, into. It was some large building with windows in the front that opened up (quite a bit) to accommodate this. When we came to a stop the front of the bus was gone, and the unoccupied seat in front of me had been folded forward making its back into my table, and while I found that intriguing, I did not find it appetizing as it had, over the miles, collected some obvious marks that signified it as a favorite place to rest ones weary feet while traveling. When I looked beyond the confines of the bus I found myself in what looked to be a rather nice establishment for eating, that is if you can get beyond the obvious limitations of sanitation and tastefulness that come with having the back half of a large filthy bus taking up an equally large portion of the seating. I could not.

Apparently this was going to be our entire stay in New York, no Broadway, no Park, no penny flinging, no random profanity slung this way or that, and worse yet, no Chinese food! How can one go to New York and not get some good Chinese food (delivered on some form of two wheel transport preferably.) As soon as I realized this I began to search for a menu as some food would be better than no food and since the bus driver had already changed into her waitress outfit and was working her way around the bus taking orders, time was short. No one else seemed to have a menu so I took that to mean that they could make almost anything there. I though perhaps it would be worth trying there attempt at Chinese food.

"I hoped that this was not a reference to spittle and wondered if it was too late to whip my glaring look in her direction."

When the waitress (bus driver) came to me she looked at me with disgust in her eyes that said 'Oh it's you, that punk who can't seem to keep track of his ticket.' It was then that I realized that the facial expression I had planned out for her was not only not on my face, but that it would not have the desired effect on a waitress who was likely to have some influence on the amount of saliva I would find in my meal. She had won this round as well! In as meek and as down trodden a voice as I could muster I said "Chinese food, please." That was not nearly specific enough, of course, so I asked if they 'might have a menu so I could order something more specific, perhaps they have some specialty I would like?' She grudgingly obliged, to my surprise until she added that I was sure to find a meal specifically suited to me. I hoped that this was not a reference to spittle and wondered if it was too late to whip my glaring look in her direction.

"...in this case the label had a happy looking clam opening its mouth to show how cheesy it was inside."

The menu was more informative for me than I had expected. On the cover was the name of the restaurant and it seemed to suggest that I would find something to my liking as the place was called "The New York Diner Experience!!!" and although there did not appear to be any specific explanation as to why a name like that would warrant three exclamation points a cursory glance through the rest of the menu led me to suspect it was in reference to their always busy restrooms and how they managed to keep them that way. The entire menu read as though it were some sort of advertisement for soup, Campbell's soup specifically. Almost every page had some special recipe that was made with a can of good old wholesome, 'tasty as mom makes' this or that. The sandwiches were not exempt and I may never get over the horror of having read how they prepare their 'Classic American Style Grilled Cheese" not that it was unsanitary or unhealthy, I just don't think Clam Chowder belongs on the list of healthy ingredients. Many of these soup infused "Classics" had actual cans placed prominently where a picture of the dish would normally be and in this case the label had a happy looking clam opening its mouth to show how cheesy it was inside. In the proper setting I can see this being funny or at least amusing but in the context of something you were actually going to eat and combined with several dozen other such labeled cans it very nearly made me sick. The only thing that stopped this from happening was my determination to have some Chinese food. Somehow I knew that throwing up right then would doom me to a dinner of unsalted Saltine crackers and tap water.

My waitress (bus driver) returned and demanded my order. Unfortunately I had not managed to figure out where the Chinese was hidden in this menu, but all hope was not lost yet as I suddenly yelled out 'Moo Goo Goo Goo!!!' To which I began to laugh realizing that we were not in Chicago and that no one else would get that joke. As she began to pester me I became belligerent and began to shout, "Where's the Chinese food?" and "I've heard that in America there are only two places to get good Chinese food, San Francisco and New York. I've had the one I want the other!" The last part I tried to turn into a chant like at a wrestling match in the hopes that others would join in on my battle:

"I've had the one...I want the other!"
"I've had the one..I want the other!"

But predictably it was unsuccessful and only seemed to irk the other patrons of this increasingly questionable "fine eating establishment (!!!)" A glance over to where the cooks and wait staff collide confirmed this, as they seemed to be pointing in my direction while formulating a proper seasoning for whatever I was about order. I finally found my precious Chinese food section and confidently order some Pork Chow Mien, knowing full well by that point that it was not likely to be a very satisfying meal, but who knows maybe Chicken Noodle is what they use as a secret ingredient over in San Francisco as well.

Shafted in the Elevator

If you're anything like me, and I'm not saying that you are (but if in fact you are), then when you dream you have places that you often frequent. To the point it seems uncanny when you come across them. You'll be in the middle of some drawn out chase scene and think 'Isn't there an ice cream shop around the corner? I could go for one of those, a nice big scoop of Mint 'n' Chips. You know, if there isn't a line I think I can swing in and pick one up before this monster gets too much closer.' It's usually just about that time I realize that I've routed myself into one of my 'safe' places.

I'm lead to believe, at least based on what I've seen on TV and in the Movies that most people's places are somewhere they went to a lot as a child. The cabin by the lake, the park that 'pop' would take you one weekend a month and after school for one whole week a year, or detention with a particularly rude teacher seem to be the most common. This is not the case for me, my mind seems to have made up its own places and one of them is a mall in San Francisco on the bottom floor of a skyscraper. It made a cameo in this dream I had that I've come to call:

"Shafted in the Elevator"

I had just returned to the bottom floor of the building after dropping a 14-year-old delinquent off at kindergarten. He protested, but I politely pointed out that when he had managed to display maturity equal to the students in that class I would be notified and he could move onto a more respectable learning facility. I did not expect to see him again. Unfortunately at this point I noticed that I had left my cell phone and jacket up there and would have to go back up.

"...if she wanted to have sex in a public place I didn't see why a little public would deter her."

I was standing patiently waiting for one of the three elevators numbered oddly enough as numbers 1, 4, and 5 and wondering what happened to number 2 and 3 when lucky number 5 opened up. The gentleman that I had not noticed standing next to me got in and pushed the highest number on it, it seemed like a good place to go so I pushed it as well and felt a lifting sensation as it took off towards its destination. A few seconds in I noticed that the other man was leaning to his left and more disturbingly looking towards the back of the elevator behind me. 'People don't do that!' I began to protest then realized that he was leaning because the elevator was no longer going up, it was going to the side, and he was looking behind me because there was no wall there.

We were being treated, it would seem, to a tour of the parking facility and I thought that if we happened to pass my car it might be best if I got off and went home, something was telling me it might be easier to just buy a new cell phone if things continued on in this manner. The man started to laugh and pointed towards two policemen celebrating their finding of a car that they believed was being used to sell drugs from. I couldn't see how they would know this as it looked like any other mid-80s crappy sports car, probably an RX-7, although it seemed odd that it was a '4-door'. As we rounded the other side one of the policemen opened the rear door and I could see that there was an office inside the vehicle, too cramped for my taste, and I doubt too many drug dealers have that nice a desk in their back seat. No this was more likely some disreputable businessman who wanted to have an address in this building but couldn't afford an actual space. I cleared my throat to mention this to the officers when the machine I was on surged ahead to the next lot.

I became grateful that our path did not cross with my car for next portion of our ride we were treated to scenes displaying all sorts of savagery. We passed through a lot where hooligans were throwing cars back and forth as if in a game of catch, and judging by the amount of glass on the ground they had been playing for quite some time. As we moved on the violence increased to a level where Ambulances were driving over people to get themselves to safety. That's not something you see often, and I dare say that the man with me may have passed some sort of breaking point then as the smell in our elevator became quite unbearable. I had begun to feel quite faint as we finally passed into the building again and I heard that wonderful 'ding' that meant we had arrived. Quickly I leapt into the lobby for fear of having the doors close with me still in there. I could tell it was not the floor I needed, but it was the floor I wanted, and were I the type of person to kiss the ground I would have.

After recovering my senses I realized that the floor I was going to was the 30^th and that I was only on the 10^th. Athletic as I might be, I was in no mood to walk 20 stories up to my destination, nor was I inclined to walk 10 down to go home. I'd lost a good deal of time on that first run and would probably be late to my new job at this rate, 'course if I could call them and let them know I'd be late it would probably be alright. I noticed that the number 1 elevator was open and beginning to close, as I leapt for it I could see that there was a couple in side starting to take their clothes off. Not deterred I stuck my hand in the door to stop it from closing to which the lady suggested that I take the number 5 instead since she'd just heard it opening. I informed her that was not going to happen and that whatever they had in mind could not possible bother me more than another ride on that foul machine. Furthermore, that if she wanted to have sex in a public place I didn't see why a little public would deter her. Besides which I had not the slightest intention of watching, as neither of them was in the slightest bit attractive. The doors closed and I turned around, but unfortunately we were not going up. Damn!

Whether or not they actually had sex behind me was unclear. I could tell that they at least gave it a go and if they did I'd say that it wasn't entirely successful. I on the other hand was getting an extremely slow tour of the mall. There was no sign of violence here but I dare say it was almost as disturbing. It was like one of those tour theaters you see at museums where you get to take a trip through time and see all of mans' depravity as he lived like an animal and ends at a door the merchandise stand, no doubt to triumphantly symbolize the height of civilization that we are currently at. This could be the sequel to that ride but it just features the depravity of modern man. It somehow seemed more disturbing without the robotic voice to point out and explain what I was looking at.

As we rounded a corner the elevator came into a fast food restaurant and near enough to their phone that I could reach out and grab it. So I did. Finally I could tell my new boss where I was and what was happening! When my boss answered he was upset. I told him that I was stuck on this infernal elevator and it wouldn't let me off! He chuckled and said "Yup, that would do it." I got as far as explaining that I was in the mall when I ran out of phone cable and the call ended without my getting any suggestions on escape.

A few hours later as we were rolling up a hill on the edge of town we went past some people I recognized as coworkers. I pleaded for help and all they could say was that they were looking forward to seeing me in the office whenever I managed to arrive. To which they all laughed uproariously, apparently this was some sort of 'funny' to them. Well I think I have an idea that they won't be enjoying the coffee I'm planning to make tomorrow. If I make it to work that is.

How about a quick quiz?

Thatwas, Just A Few Questions...

Do you feel that people think you're a bit obsessive, perhaps a bit compulsive?

1. Do you always dot every "i" and cross every "t"?

2. How about every "L" and "1" just in case?

3. Do you use "i" instead of "I" just so you can do this?

4. While you're heating up a jar of pasta sauce do you ever consider plucking out all the nasty low grade tomatoes and replacing them with some freshly chopped ones?

5. Do you often wonder if you could get more work done if they made mouses that didn't have such fun buttons to click?

6. Why don't we have anything that requires a triple click?

7. While playing the Da Vinci Code Quest, around 10 days in did you start wondering why a search company would call using their service "Puzzle Solving" and then have you search for things that wouldn't come up right away when you typed in the question? You'd think they'd know the answer right?

8. 16 days in did you start using other search engines?

9, Did you notice I used a comma after the number of this question and wonder if it was a clue?

10. Do you keep a running average of how well you did on tests like this?

11. Will it bother you if I don't analyze your answers for you?

12. Quick someone get a Rubik's Cube.

Essay Portion:

You only have three words to change the world. Oh, and a time machine. Maybe a hand gesture / facial expression, OK, yeah, you get to use a gesture or expressive face as well.

Comic Name Here: I'm a Lazy Bastard!

Well, that about sums up my introduction. Not really much more to say about me than that, but I might as well try.

The first thing I say when presented with an idea or project is "How can I make that easier to do?" or sometimes when I'm really in the zone it comes out "Hrmph." Lazy, you'll find that particular motivation has left its fingerprints all over anything I do.

I consider myself to be a storyteller. I'd like to consider myself a writer but until I actually succeed in being paid for it I'm just a storyteller. I tell good stories. I just have a hard time making one into a complete book, movie, or what not. I could tell you a whole story over a nice pot of tea (or a bus ride) and you'd probably be entertained through most of it. It would help that I serve good tea, of course.

But stories told and stories written have very different needs that must be met, and there in lies the challenge... continued in a very long post at "Comic Name Here"

Test Your Luck at the Next Pot Luck

This has been around for a few years but it's been a while since it stumbled into my realm of thought. If you haven't a clue what to bring for all those office pot lucks that pop up around this time of year here's a way to guarantee your contribution is the most talked about.

"Kitty Litter Cake"

It's worth just googling the phrase kitty litter cake to see the pictures that people have taken. This was my favorite so it's the one I linked to. The one with the cat cringing in horror is also quite nice.

And please, PLEASE(!!!) remember that "NEW" is the key word for this particular recipe.

digg story

US Soldiers to get protein powered gum to replace toothbrushes

Ladies and Gentlemen meet your new Army,
uh, never mind the gills just look at that smile!

"The gum, developed by US Army researchers, contains a protein that attacks the bugs that cause plaque, which in turn can lead to gum infections and tooth decay. Soldiers can keep their mouths clean without toothpaste, brush and bathroom sink, its creators say."

From the Digg page, my favorite comment:

"Great, now as soon as the US military develops an office chair that doubles up as a toilet, we'll never have to leave our computers."
by doubledoh

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Synthetic Gills for Soldiers

The Army recently gave out a contract for research into "an advanced breathing apparatus that mimics the efficiency, simplicity, and durability of the gill-swim bladder found in fish could greatly improve human maneuverability and sustainability in both aquatic and high altitude settings"


Damn, that's messed up...

Where do I sign up?

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On the Effectiveness of Aluminum Foil Helmets: An Empirical Study

I know this was making the rounds yesterday and has probably hit all the big sites by now but if you missed it...

MIT study on the protective nature of aluminum foil helmets. Conclusion is they most likely AMPLIFY any mind control signals not protect the user as commonly assumed.

...you're missing out.

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Arrested Development Cancelled

A travesty to say the least.

"In a move that will likely spell the end of a TV show that critics love but never drew big audiences, the Fox network said on Friday it pulled offbeat comedy "Arrested Development" from its schedule for the rest of the month."


Although I have to say that if a show this good can't get better ratings than it's been getting it's cancellation is the least absurd thing to happen to it.


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Science has finally fixed the free throw distraction plan.

How to distract a player during a free throw.


I'm not much of a fan but this is cool. Get your hippie friends together!!!

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