Friday, October 15, 2010
Plato's The Apology - One-Act Play
This is released under the Creative Commons. You're more than welcome to use it, but if you use it, please attach my name in the credits. Otherwise, use it, modify it, hate it, love it. Enjoy!
Tuesday, March 23, 2010
Discussion Board post on Virtue Ethics
Virtue ethics. I've been really pondering the question of what I wanted to say here. I've always looked upon people with compassion, and I've felt it has resulted in being taken advantage of; from letting people into traffic, parking lots, and a customer service aspect at my jobs. When trying to do what you feel is right conflicts with other humans vices of greed, apathy, and general callousness, I find it difficult to practice virtue ethics and general benevolence to my fellow man without feeling like I am weak and being taken advantage of.
I generally operate on the idea that helping others makes me feel complete; happy. That is my teleos, my end. I give to others, because others gave to me. When I was a child, some of our best Christmases were the ones where Mom didn't have any money, and put our names onto the Salvation Army tree. The kindness of strangers gave us clothes, food, and a simple, fantastic toy you relished that much more because you knew, without that, you had nothing. That imprinted me.
Some of my favorite Christmases were the ones in my early 20's where I had no money whatsoever. It was Christmas, and I had $100 to my name. I took that $100, told my family that they would receive no gifts from me those Christmases, and I would take a name off the tree and buy that kid two of everything he needed and the best toy of what he/she wanted. I know what that felt like. I wanted that child to have the same.
Ignorance is bliss, right? I had a coworker who drives a Durango. Multiple flat panel TVs in their residence. 3 XBoxes. 3 Playstation 3's. 3 Wii's. Piles of games (I sold her several of mine). Nice clothes. And then, while I was espousing a moment of pride about giving to the Angel Tree, she states, almost with pride, that she puts her kids on there every year. I was, quite frankly, speechless with anger.
When I do community service for a friend's church, I take turkeys, ham, and other food out to families "in need." The right thing, the benevolent approach is that the good, as always, outweighs the few who abuse the system. I just can't take driving up to a home with a pile of food to give to a family with an Escalade (true story!) in the driveway. It's unconscionable. I've become quite jaded at the Christmas time festivities and the season of giving when I've experienced these things.
For the first time in 5 years, I didn't donate to the Angel Tree, and that grates on a part of my soul. It's a moral quandry I find myself stuck in.
I generally operate on the idea that helping others makes me feel complete; happy. That is my teleos, my end. I give to others, because others gave to me. When I was a child, some of our best Christmases were the ones where Mom didn't have any money, and put our names onto the Salvation Army tree. The kindness of strangers gave us clothes, food, and a simple, fantastic toy you relished that much more because you knew, without that, you had nothing. That imprinted me.
Some of my favorite Christmases were the ones in my early 20's where I had no money whatsoever. It was Christmas, and I had $100 to my name. I took that $100, told my family that they would receive no gifts from me those Christmases, and I would take a name off the tree and buy that kid two of everything he needed and the best toy of what he/she wanted. I know what that felt like. I wanted that child to have the same.
Ignorance is bliss, right? I had a coworker who drives a Durango. Multiple flat panel TVs in their residence. 3 XBoxes. 3 Playstation 3's. 3 Wii's. Piles of games (I sold her several of mine). Nice clothes. And then, while I was espousing a moment of pride about giving to the Angel Tree, she states, almost with pride, that she puts her kids on there every year. I was, quite frankly, speechless with anger.
When I do community service for a friend's church, I take turkeys, ham, and other food out to families "in need." The right thing, the benevolent approach is that the good, as always, outweighs the few who abuse the system. I just can't take driving up to a home with a pile of food to give to a family with an Escalade (true story!) in the driveway. It's unconscionable. I've become quite jaded at the Christmas time festivities and the season of giving when I've experienced these things.
For the first time in 5 years, I didn't donate to the Angel Tree, and that grates on a part of my soul. It's a moral quandry I find myself stuck in.
Monday, March 22, 2010
Tuesday, September 01, 2009
Friends '09 - Composition - Assignment 1 - Personal Narrative Rough Draft
The meaning of ‘hero’ has many interpretations. When I think of the boldness of super heroes, their gravitas, their nobility, it is difficult to contrast these idols of everyday life against what being a hero can mean. Some acts of simple assistance can mean the world to some people, where one man’s illustrated hero can stop a speeding bullet, another person’s hero can simply take a moment to help someone who’s confidence is low. I want to tell you what it felt like to be a hero, but for a minute, in the eyes and heart of a woman I once and never knew.
I’ve single-handedly stopped a car from blowing up on the side of a highway (True story; just ask the firefighter who called me an idiot for my efforts). I’ve rescued a young distressed swimmer from a city pool. I’ve given someone a meal to eat when they had nothing. I’ve always tried to do what I could to make a major mark in someone else’s life; to be remembered for the good, the right. I would have to say, with an bit of honesty, I’ve always enjoyed helping others, to being needed, and the recognition I would receive for those efforts (even if it was negative reinforcement, e.g. the fireman) Those things and more, though, do not compare to a single moment I had at work a few months back.
I work in a call center for a local cable company. My job is, to me, a menial one. I am tasked to assist the unfamiliar with setup, configuration, and on-going support of their video, data, and telephone services through this provider. In any given day, I could speak to anywhere from thirty to seventy people on the phone. I assist each person with their bill, their inability to check their email, their inadvertent triple-x rated show they accidently ordered four nights in a row and want to have expunged from their account before their significant other sees the bill or they are going to sue our company. Essentially, the usual call center fare. My calls are quick; meaningless in the greater scheme of things. These personal connections I make with the customers are warm, touching, heart-felt, and fleeting. I’ve become your best friend, your good buddy, your charming and caring other man for the five to forty-five minutes I am on the line, and then I am gone as fast as I entered their lives and fixed their pay-per-view television. I have no misgivings to this; it is the nature of the job, and I understand these relationships are fleeting.
There are the few moments in time when an interaction occurs and your life is different forever because of it. While I cannot tell you the date or time, the moment is forever burned into my person. I can describe it with great detail because I was caught off-guard by it, torn away from my interpersonal professional distance I keep, and pulled into this woman’s world for a second. She helped reinvigorate my sense of worth and value to my job with a few simple words. This all began with a simple cable snowiness issue and turned into a story I try to tell my coworkers when they lose their sense of importance at work.
The woman called in and I answered, as per the usual process. I wish I could remember her name, or have written it down somewhere. Alas, her name is lost to the winds of time, but the memory of her is forever. She called about having a snowy picture on every channel above channel 26. I inspected her account, and the information about her area. Everything checked out; she had no outages to mention and her account was in good standing. I checked over the services she had, and found there to be nothing terribly complicated about her cable services. In my mind, I had decided already that this call was going to be quite simple.
After a few questions about the nature of her troubles, I asked her if she felt comfortable checking some connections behind her television. This is a standard practice when someone reports fuzziness on analog cable stations. Her reply was heavy with hesitation and apprehension:
“Well, I’m not sure. My husband passed away recently, and he usually does this type of stuff.”
I encouraged her, stating that this would be a very easy fix; either there was a loose cable in the back of her television, or we would need to send a technician to her home and investigate further. I could hear some apprehension in her voice as she said “Wait a minute,” and readjusted to get behind the television.
“Ok, what am I looking for?” she asked.
“What you are looking for is the coaxial cable that screws onto the television and then connects back to the wall.”
“I see it.”
“What I need you to do is remove this cable from both the wall and the television, then reconnect it back. We want to make sure we have a flush connection at both connectors.”
“Ok, let me put the telephone down and do this.” I heard some rustling about and movement on the other end. This went on for about a minute. She picked up the phone. “OK, did that.”
“All right, now let’s look at the television and see if that fixed it.”
And then something I’ll never forget happened. She acknowledged me, and I heard some movement, as though she was getting up off the floor. She presumably moved in front of the TV, and then… started crying.
“Oh my God, I fixed it…”
I was taken a bit back at the tears, but I was encouraged her with a simple “I take it it is working?”
Her crying was rising at a frenetic pace, to almost sobbing. “Was that really it? You didn’t do anything to it?”
I wasn’t sure where she was going with this. “No ma’am, it was all you. I just told you what to look at.”
“No one’s going to believe me. “
“Excuse me ma’am?”
“No, you don’t understand. I’m seventy eight years old. I haven’t been able to fix anything around here since my husband died.”
The tears she was crying were not those of sadness, but more the tears a player cries when they’ve scored the winning touchdown in the Super Bowl; those tears at graduation, those tears of celebration. She exclaimed that no one at her place of employment would believe her and to be sure to document this as proof she did it. I gladly did so, and was moved to tears myself. I had to hold back choking up myself while I documented her account and wrapped up the details.
After the call was over, I was so taken aback by that call I had to step out on a personal unscheduled break and take a breather. To say I was choked up didn’t adequately capture the welling tears in my eyes. I can only assume, in that revelatory moment that I may never fully grasp, she was enlightened. She was newly capable. She found a power she didn’t know she had. Her world changed pivotally and I was witness to the moment. All because of some loose RG-6 Coaxial cable.
That moment may live on in her mind, it may have been forgotten a week later, I do not know. I do know, however, that even though the call ended, I was changed. My view of the world was just that much kinder because of her. I had a renewed sense of purpose that day that still lingers when I am frustrated with my employment. Everyone should be so lucky.
I’ve single-handedly stopped a car from blowing up on the side of a highway (True story; just ask the firefighter who called me an idiot for my efforts). I’ve rescued a young distressed swimmer from a city pool. I’ve given someone a meal to eat when they had nothing. I’ve always tried to do what I could to make a major mark in someone else’s life; to be remembered for the good, the right. I would have to say, with an bit of honesty, I’ve always enjoyed helping others, to being needed, and the recognition I would receive for those efforts (even if it was negative reinforcement, e.g. the fireman) Those things and more, though, do not compare to a single moment I had at work a few months back.
I work in a call center for a local cable company. My job is, to me, a menial one. I am tasked to assist the unfamiliar with setup, configuration, and on-going support of their video, data, and telephone services through this provider. In any given day, I could speak to anywhere from thirty to seventy people on the phone. I assist each person with their bill, their inability to check their email, their inadvertent triple-x rated show they accidently ordered four nights in a row and want to have expunged from their account before their significant other sees the bill or they are going to sue our company. Essentially, the usual call center fare. My calls are quick; meaningless in the greater scheme of things. These personal connections I make with the customers are warm, touching, heart-felt, and fleeting. I’ve become your best friend, your good buddy, your charming and caring other man for the five to forty-five minutes I am on the line, and then I am gone as fast as I entered their lives and fixed their pay-per-view television. I have no misgivings to this; it is the nature of the job, and I understand these relationships are fleeting.
There are the few moments in time when an interaction occurs and your life is different forever because of it. While I cannot tell you the date or time, the moment is forever burned into my person. I can describe it with great detail because I was caught off-guard by it, torn away from my interpersonal professional distance I keep, and pulled into this woman’s world for a second. She helped reinvigorate my sense of worth and value to my job with a few simple words. This all began with a simple cable snowiness issue and turned into a story I try to tell my coworkers when they lose their sense of importance at work.
The woman called in and I answered, as per the usual process. I wish I could remember her name, or have written it down somewhere. Alas, her name is lost to the winds of time, but the memory of her is forever. She called about having a snowy picture on every channel above channel 26. I inspected her account, and the information about her area. Everything checked out; she had no outages to mention and her account was in good standing. I checked over the services she had, and found there to be nothing terribly complicated about her cable services. In my mind, I had decided already that this call was going to be quite simple.
After a few questions about the nature of her troubles, I asked her if she felt comfortable checking some connections behind her television. This is a standard practice when someone reports fuzziness on analog cable stations. Her reply was heavy with hesitation and apprehension:
“Well, I’m not sure. My husband passed away recently, and he usually does this type of stuff.”
I encouraged her, stating that this would be a very easy fix; either there was a loose cable in the back of her television, or we would need to send a technician to her home and investigate further. I could hear some apprehension in her voice as she said “Wait a minute,” and readjusted to get behind the television.
“Ok, what am I looking for?” she asked.
“What you are looking for is the coaxial cable that screws onto the television and then connects back to the wall.”
“I see it.”
“What I need you to do is remove this cable from both the wall and the television, then reconnect it back. We want to make sure we have a flush connection at both connectors.”
“Ok, let me put the telephone down and do this.” I heard some rustling about and movement on the other end. This went on for about a minute. She picked up the phone. “OK, did that.”
“All right, now let’s look at the television and see if that fixed it.”
And then something I’ll never forget happened. She acknowledged me, and I heard some movement, as though she was getting up off the floor. She presumably moved in front of the TV, and then… started crying.
“Oh my God, I fixed it…”
I was taken a bit back at the tears, but I was encouraged her with a simple “I take it it is working?”
Her crying was rising at a frenetic pace, to almost sobbing. “Was that really it? You didn’t do anything to it?”
I wasn’t sure where she was going with this. “No ma’am, it was all you. I just told you what to look at.”
“No one’s going to believe me. “
“Excuse me ma’am?”
“No, you don’t understand. I’m seventy eight years old. I haven’t been able to fix anything around here since my husband died.”
The tears she was crying were not those of sadness, but more the tears a player cries when they’ve scored the winning touchdown in the Super Bowl; those tears at graduation, those tears of celebration. She exclaimed that no one at her place of employment would believe her and to be sure to document this as proof she did it. I gladly did so, and was moved to tears myself. I had to hold back choking up myself while I documented her account and wrapped up the details.
After the call was over, I was so taken aback by that call I had to step out on a personal unscheduled break and take a breather. To say I was choked up didn’t adequately capture the welling tears in my eyes. I can only assume, in that revelatory moment that I may never fully grasp, she was enlightened. She was newly capable. She found a power she didn’t know she had. Her world changed pivotally and I was witness to the moment. All because of some loose RG-6 Coaxial cable.
That moment may live on in her mind, it may have been forgotten a week later, I do not know. I do know, however, that even though the call ended, I was changed. My view of the world was just that much kinder because of her. I had a renewed sense of purpose that day that still lingers when I am frustrated with my employment. Everyone should be so lucky.
Tuesday, August 18, 2009
This is My Blackberry
This is my Blackberry.
There are many like it, but this one is MINE.
My Blackberry is my best friend. It is my life.
I must master it as I must master my life.
My Blackberry without me is useless. Without my Blackberry, I am useless.
Tuesday, August 11, 2009
Windows 7 Install List
Document Version 1.1.2.4.3 Last Modified 8/14/09
- Commercial Software
Windows 7 Ultimate 32-bit - Why not? That, and the current activator only supports Ultimate at this time, so the reasoning should be fairly obvious. I'm using 32-bit as I only have 3GB RAM, and I anticipate I'll replace this machine before I spend the money and add another Gig for no reason. You'll need Hazar's 7 Activator: Run as Administrator, let reboot the computer. Comes up activated. We'll see in a few days. edit: Few days later, all is well.
Microsoft Office 2007 Enterprise - While your version may vary, is there any reason NOT to go with Enterprise?
Adobe CS4 Master Collection - The one, the only. Photoshop, Flash, Dreamweaver. Those are my main tools.
Roxio Creator 2009 - An all encompassing DVD burning suite. Some prefer Nero; I've come back to the old Adaptec product.
Techsmith Snaggit - For screen shots and other tutorial handiness.
Symantec Endpoint Protection - The Cox Security Suite that is provided by the ISP is not yet compatible with Windows 7. This is, and I've always personally had good luck with Symantec products.
Windows Home Server Connector - I currently have a Windows Home Server for my file server and torrenting machine, and this software gives me console access to it.
MagicISO - Used to open .iso images and add files. Namely condensing serials onto disks. Recently compatible with Windows 7.
MagicISO - Used to open .iso images and add files. Namely condensing serials onto disks. Recently compatible with Windows 7.
- Free (as in beer) Software
Mozilla Firefox - 3.5 is current as of writing; quite fast and a nice alternative to Internet Explorer
Google Chrome - Just the other day released another update that made it skinnable. And ridiculously fast.
Applekeys 2 - I have an Apply Keyboard and need this to get 'Print Screen' mapped correctly to my keyboard.
Apple Safari - 4.0.2 is current as of this writing and add another browsing option.
Virtual Clonedrive - This is use for mounting .ISO files when I don't want to have to burn the CD/DVD
VLC - 1.0 as of this time. The one, the only. It's the Swiss Army Knife of multimedia players.
7-Zip - Has nothing to do with Windows 7 per se, this is the Swiss Army Knife of file openers.
Tweetdeck - Yeah, I know.
iTunes - Not really a question.
Blackberry Desktop 5.0 - Used to sync the Blackberry(ies). Had to install USB drivers with this suite.
Blackberry Desktop 5.0 - Used to sync the Blackberry(ies). Had to install USB drivers with this suite.
- Games - Free or Otherwise
America's Army - Going to try 3.0. It's been a while.
- Incidentals - Unexpected but required installations
Adobe Flash - Had to update to 10.0
Adobe Air - Necessary for Tweetdeck
Apple Software Update - Necessary for Apple Software on Windows computers.
Quicktime - An incidental of iTunes
Apple Bluetooth Keyboard - Install wireless keyboard from Apple in Windows.
Windows Live - Newest free software out of Microsoft to compete with iLife.
Windows Live Games - Part of Windows Live.
Roxio Media Manager & Blackberry Media Sync - Part of Blackberry Desktop 5.0.
An all-in-one codec set for Windows Media Player 11 I trust to install
The new Batman demo.
Apple Bluetooth Keyboard - Install wireless keyboard from Apple in Windows.
Windows Live - Newest free software out of Microsoft to compete with iLife.
Windows Live Games - Part of Windows Live.
Roxio Media Manager & Blackberry Media Sync - Part of Blackberry Desktop 5.0.
- Still Looking For:
An all-in-one codec set for Windows Media Player 11 I trust to install
The new Batman demo.
Tuesday, July 28, 2009
Installing Windows 7
This was asked of me, so I thought I'd go world-wide with it.
1. Acquire the ISO
Considering it was only released to manufacturers, this is technically impossible unless your last name is Dell. But I digress.
2. Burn and Boot the ISO.
Forgive the remark, but this isn't Aaaaar! 101. Burning an ISO is not covered here. (Hint: Nero)
3. Beginning Install
I took the route, personally, of upgrading a Vista installation. I started the process from within Vista, then followed the oh-so-simple prompts. The most important being what edition I wanted to install. I suspect a clean install will tell us the same. I chose Ultimate, because at Ultimate Computers (the wholesale computer company I run that allowed me to get this copy. *ahem*), every computer we sell comes with Ultimate. Who do you think we are, some two-bit operation?
Carrying on...
4. Setting Up
Windows Vista and Windows 7 are sisters. Vista is the older, uglier of the two. But Ugs is experienced, and her experience is beneficial for us when it comes to cracking Microsoft's... activating your copy correctly. The same scheme used to activate Windows Vista works on her completely unexpectant little sis. I'm going to Hell for that. The process you're looking for is by Orbit30. You know where to look.
5. Enjoy the fruit of someone else's labor.
That's right you damn slackers. That's all I have to say on the matter.
1. Acquire the ISO
Considering it was only released to manufacturers, this is technically impossible unless your last name is Dell. But I digress.
2. Burn and Boot the ISO.
Forgive the remark, but this isn't Aaaaar! 101. Burning an ISO is not covered here. (Hint: Nero)
3. Beginning Install
I took the route, personally, of upgrading a Vista installation. I started the process from within Vista, then followed the oh-so-simple prompts. The most important being what edition I wanted to install. I suspect a clean install will tell us the same. I chose Ultimate, because at Ultimate Computers (the wholesale computer company I run that allowed me to get this copy. *ahem*), every computer we sell comes with Ultimate. Who do you think we are, some two-bit operation?
Carrying on...
4. Setting Up
Windows Vista and Windows 7 are sisters. Vista is the older, uglier of the two. But Ugs is experienced, and her experience is beneficial for us when it comes to cracking Microsoft's... activating your copy correctly. The same scheme used to activate Windows Vista works on her completely unexpectant little sis. I'm going to Hell for that. The process you're looking for is by Orbit30. You know where to look.
5. Enjoy the fruit of someone else's labor.
That's right you damn slackers. That's all I have to say on the matter.
Monday, July 13, 2009
Facebook (or how I came to love Little Brother)
In the last couple of days, you'll have found my Facebook account livening back up. Given my previous feelings regarding the service, I can't help but have torn feelings. One side of me can' t let go of the fact that some of the venture capital getting Facebook off the ground came from a former CIA agent's firm, or that a member of the directors for the company is former NSA.
It seems all crazy conspiracy theory, I know. But regardless of conspiracy loonyness or something more, I think it speaks to an age where we are willing to put everything we are out to the world without any regard for who may be able to utilize it. The ability, for example, to lock away your more... specious photos for only friends to see. You're only a computer hack, password compromise, or over-the-should social engineer away from having your salacious images available to people you don't know for whatever their reasonings. My guess is those people don't have your best interests at heart. And you may never know until it's too late. Fancy a run for a local office, and that less than complimentary photo shows up during the primaries. And that's without using my imagination.
Then, you may ask, why are you using it again if you've got such an aversion to Facebook? My answer is two-fold.
Recently it became apparent to me that there's no stopping the juggernaut of information that Facebook and other sites will imbibe. And sadly, we're not hesitant for one moment to give it, personal liberties be damned. I never knew volunteering all the reading behaviors, friends and associates, how you know them, religious and political affiliations, and personal contact information over the last 5 years could be so fun! The CIA couldn't do a better job profiling you if they tried.
I've decided to embrace that system, doing so knowing where the dangers lie. I'm best suited to operate in murky water knowing what to expect. There are several things I've done to protect my information. But let's face it: regardless of how well you drive, you still have a possibility if accident, if not caused by you, but another driver on the road. You take those calculated risks every time you get behind the wheel. Or post something to Facebook.
Sunday, July 12, 2009
Blogger to Twitter Module
I'm curious about a module or web app that would allow me to post the titles of my Blogger entries to my Twitter account as I post. Wonder how difficult that would be to implement?
On a completely different note, this was posted entirely from my Blackberry Storm.
Plasma Televisions: RF Interference and Other Oddities
Trouble: Your remote is not able to change channels on your digital box, bring up the guide, or anything else pertaining to controls of the digital box. You've swapped batteries, you've changed boxes, you've changed remotes.
Culprit: Your plasma TV is emitting enough radiation to cause prostate cancer. The EMF (Electromagnetic Field) being put off that TV is making your microwave jealous. Your remote IR beam that sends signals to your box is hitting a wall of electrical interference like a waterhose trying to push upstream through a river.
The Fix(TM): This is a two-fer. Do both of these. First, move the digital box/Tivo/Dish reciever, etc as far away as possible from the offending television. Secondly, somewhere in the menu of the TV should be the controls for the backlight. You'll want to turn that down as low as possible without suffering picture quality loss. Once the backlight is cooled a bit, you'll find your remote to be operational again.
Caveats: The only thing to be aware of (short of having to wear a lead vest at TV time) is that your batteries will burn out faster than the average user. Your batteries are strong right now, but as they weaken, the IR will weaken. When that reaches a certain point, you'll be back to these same problems. This will take less time, as the radiation from the TV may force that issue faster than if there was no TV pushing back.
Culprit: Your plasma TV is emitting enough radiation to cause prostate cancer. The EMF (Electromagnetic Field) being put off that TV is making your microwave jealous. Your remote IR beam that sends signals to your box is hitting a wall of electrical interference like a waterhose trying to push upstream through a river.
The Fix(TM): This is a two-fer. Do both of these. First, move the digital box/Tivo/Dish reciever, etc as far away as possible from the offending television. Secondly, somewhere in the menu of the TV should be the controls for the backlight. You'll want to turn that down as low as possible without suffering picture quality loss. Once the backlight is cooled a bit, you'll find your remote to be operational again.
Caveats: The only thing to be aware of (short of having to wear a lead vest at TV time) is that your batteries will burn out faster than the average user. Your batteries are strong right now, but as they weaken, the IR will weaken. When that reaches a certain point, you'll be back to these same problems. This will take less time, as the radiation from the TV may force that issue faster than if there was no TV pushing back.
Tuesday, April 14, 2009
Twitter.
Strangest part was I found r_houghton's acct there. And it's locked. Presumably Forever.
Rorschach
Makes notes. Short sentences. Expresses his ideas in a pattern that doesn't take a lot of purple prose. No predicates.
Dangling participles. If I could remember what a dangling participle is. Working for a company that deals in visual media has
Dangling participles. If I could remember what a dangling participle is. Working for a company that deals in visual media has
Ouch
Carl came
And it was the same thing
A night of fun
A morning of pain
Nothing learned
All the same
Changed our age
But not our ways
Once a year
A retrograde
And it was the same thing
A night of fun
A morning of pain
Nothing learned
All the same
Changed our age
But not our ways
Once a year
A retrograde
Sunday, April 12, 2009
Easter (or the Spring Harvest)
Whatever your preference. Judeo-Christian history says Christ died today for your sins. Pagans believe this is the spring harvest and should be thankful to, I believe without cracking open Google, Gaia. That could be wrong.
Meh. Colored some eggs for the sake of fun with the kiddo, but my inner theologist was screaming at the hypocrisy. To quote Lewis Black: "Jesus died for our sins... Quick, hide all the eggs!"
Meh. Colored some eggs for the sake of fun with the kiddo, but my inner theologist was screaming at the hypocrisy. To quote Lewis Black: "Jesus died for our sins... Quick, hide all the eggs!"
Friday, April 10, 2009
Opus
I have to start writing again. I have to start working out the mental muscles, the dialogue patterns; the non-descript desire to have run-on sentences. I've been listening to dialogue patterns people are using to determine rhythms in writing. I need to pick up another book and really knock the dust off my pen and penmanship. I can catalogue digitally, but I can't find myself using a word processor to write my opus.
The very problem is pretty easy to describe but most unfortunate to figure out: What is my opus? Which story? Genesis? Experimental 7? Juggle? Teeth?
Quandry.
The very problem is pretty easy to describe but most unfortunate to figure out: What is my opus? Which story? Genesis? Experimental 7? Juggle? Teeth?
Quandry.
Friday, April 03, 2009
Tuesday, May 29, 2007
Pirates of The Caribean: At Plot's End
This is why I have to write the stuff down while I'm still angry.
Let's start. Opening. Allusion to Bush's Patriot Act. "There will temporarily be a loss of rights, such as right to a lawyer." Welcome to heavy-handed. Anyone caught cavorting with a pirate, talking to a pirate, talking LIKE a pirate, or otherwise wearing an eye-patch with a wooden leg for Halloween will be murdered with a cold blood thirst people are being murdered like in the streets of Baghdad. Pirate is metaphor for terrorist, and the British Gub'ment is a metaphor for G-Dub. Gay? Check.
"They're singing... Good."
Blah blah, I'm Chow Yun Fat, and these writers and directors want me to over-act. Sweet. And where's my fucking steam? Better question: who cares? The chick was shot in the head. It was as if she was going to get some sort of vengeance, instead you got fake hate. So angry!
Barbosa was foilrific in these scenes. Comedy AND explanation.
Let's see if we can confuse the hell out of all the players here. I plan to write this as disjointedly as the movie through around plot twists, betrayals, agonizingly trying to be clever and confusing all at the same time, without a whole lot of success in doing any of the aforementioned in a reasonable execution.
The title was "At World's End", when, in all actuality, only the first of three acts spent any time there, and that was negliable. I kept hearing Ed Norton from Fight Club when I was watching Jack's nose. "I am Jack's Smelling Nose." That scene insensed me. Gore, Bruckheimer, and God knows who else said "Hey, what can we do to oversaturate the crowd with as much Jack Sparrow as possible? Hey, let's have 2 MILLION Jacks, like they did with that Agent Smith guy, and make them do all kinds of crazy shit in a hallucination? Call those guys that did those Matrix movies and see if we can borrow that old software!"
Barbosa made no sense going all maniacal as they were about to fall of the edge. And what did the crew expect? They were just going to float up to Davy Jones' Locker (which, in lore, is not some sandy joint, but THE BOTTOM OF THE OCEAN) and the natives would run out to greet them? "You've doomed us all!" a shipmate screams out at Barbosa, to which I couldn't help think, "And you expected any less at the 'World's End?'" I thought. And like THAT boat was sea-worthy. I wouldn't put that out on our lake in a high wind, let alone, THE SEA.
WHY did Swan's dad die? Because they didn't want to keep up with him through the plot, so they threw him over. And then "She canno leave da boot," and yet Jack can flip the boat, guys can fall off, and that's OK.
WHY was Davy Jones' heart blowing up such a big deal. If the heart died, Davy Jones...what? Died? Wait, that's not right, because you have to stab the heart to kill him. Oh, wait, but The Flying Dutchman MUST have a Captain. So... If Davy Jones died by a canon shot at the chest... Then who captains The Dutchman? Plot hole as big as the hole in Davy's chest where his heart used to be.
I grow weary just thinking about this, and I'm not even halfway done.
If Davy Jones can move through time, space, and water like he did to visit Calypso, couldn’t he set up a plot to steal his chest back? Waiiiiit, that wouldn't make sense.
Orlando Bloom, please stop talking. And "Well, I guess it always belonged to you. Keep it safe?" The melodrama had me rolling my eyes. By that point, the movie had lost me, so maybe the line was delivered with some acting talent, but I was too see-sick to notice. Yes, I spelled it that way intentionally.
Why didn't Calypso destroy the Black Pearl, The Flying Dutchman, all the Pirate Lords (Who were RIDICULOUS), and the whole British armada? "They shall feel my fury" was melodrama when Calypso, you know, tried to sink, you know TWO ships in the whole sea of hundreds.
When the Black Pearl and The Flying Dutchman destroy the Flagship of the British Navy, and the rest scatter, I rolled my eyes and wanted the pain to end. It wouldn't for another 25 minutes.
Thank God this series is over. From Disneyland ride to pop culture in 5 years, one can only hope they don't go all George Lucas on us and decide to make the first three prequels. Jack Sparrow as a little boy, rescued from Rum Island, growing into his pirate abilities, influenced by an older, more clever deckhand named Barbosa. Come to think of it, THAT might have more potential.
Let's start. Opening. Allusion to Bush's Patriot Act. "There will temporarily be a loss of rights, such as right to a lawyer." Welcome to heavy-handed. Anyone caught cavorting with a pirate, talking to a pirate, talking LIKE a pirate, or otherwise wearing an eye-patch with a wooden leg for Halloween will be murdered with a cold blood thirst people are being murdered like in the streets of Baghdad. Pirate is metaphor for terrorist, and the British Gub'ment is a metaphor for G-Dub. Gay? Check.
"They're singing... Good."
Blah blah, I'm Chow Yun Fat, and these writers and directors want me to over-act. Sweet. And where's my fucking steam? Better question: who cares? The chick was shot in the head. It was as if she was going to get some sort of vengeance, instead you got fake hate. So angry!
Barbosa was foilrific in these scenes. Comedy AND explanation.
Let's see if we can confuse the hell out of all the players here. I plan to write this as disjointedly as the movie through around plot twists, betrayals, agonizingly trying to be clever and confusing all at the same time, without a whole lot of success in doing any of the aforementioned in a reasonable execution.
The title was "At World's End", when, in all actuality, only the first of three acts spent any time there, and that was negliable. I kept hearing Ed Norton from Fight Club when I was watching Jack's nose. "I am Jack's Smelling Nose." That scene insensed me. Gore, Bruckheimer, and God knows who else said "Hey, what can we do to oversaturate the crowd with as much Jack Sparrow as possible? Hey, let's have 2 MILLION Jacks, like they did with that Agent Smith guy, and make them do all kinds of crazy shit in a hallucination? Call those guys that did those Matrix movies and see if we can borrow that old software!"
Barbosa made no sense going all maniacal as they were about to fall of the edge. And what did the crew expect? They were just going to float up to Davy Jones' Locker (which, in lore, is not some sandy joint, but THE BOTTOM OF THE OCEAN) and the natives would run out to greet them? "You've doomed us all!" a shipmate screams out at Barbosa, to which I couldn't help think, "And you expected any less at the 'World's End?'" I thought. And like THAT boat was sea-worthy. I wouldn't put that out on our lake in a high wind, let alone, THE SEA.
WHY did Swan's dad die? Because they didn't want to keep up with him through the plot, so they threw him over. And then "She canno leave da boot," and yet Jack can flip the boat, guys can fall off, and that's OK.
WHY was Davy Jones' heart blowing up such a big deal. If the heart died, Davy Jones...what? Died? Wait, that's not right, because you have to stab the heart to kill him. Oh, wait, but The Flying Dutchman MUST have a Captain. So... If Davy Jones died by a canon shot at the chest... Then who captains The Dutchman? Plot hole as big as the hole in Davy's chest where his heart used to be.
I grow weary just thinking about this, and I'm not even halfway done.
If Davy Jones can move through time, space, and water like he did to visit Calypso, couldn’t he set up a plot to steal his chest back? Waiiiiit, that wouldn't make sense.
Orlando Bloom, please stop talking. And "Well, I guess it always belonged to you. Keep it safe?" The melodrama had me rolling my eyes. By that point, the movie had lost me, so maybe the line was delivered with some acting talent, but I was too see-sick to notice. Yes, I spelled it that way intentionally.
Why didn't Calypso destroy the Black Pearl, The Flying Dutchman, all the Pirate Lords (Who were RIDICULOUS), and the whole British armada? "They shall feel my fury" was melodrama when Calypso, you know, tried to sink, you know TWO ships in the whole sea of hundreds.
When the Black Pearl and The Flying Dutchman destroy the Flagship of the British Navy, and the rest scatter, I rolled my eyes and wanted the pain to end. It wouldn't for another 25 minutes.
Thank God this series is over. From Disneyland ride to pop culture in 5 years, one can only hope they don't go all George Lucas on us and decide to make the first three prequels. Jack Sparrow as a little boy, rescued from Rum Island, growing into his pirate abilities, influenced by an older, more clever deckhand named Barbosa. Come to think of it, THAT might have more potential.
Friday, May 04, 2007
Spiderman 3 Review
What a steaming pile of crap that movie was. It was heavy-handed, emotionally devoid, melodramatic, jingoistic in moments, and Emo Peter Parker really just sent it over the top in utter ridiculousness. There were several points in the movie where everyone was laughing or groaning, or even rolling their eyes and saying "whaaat?", when it was meant to be a serious, emotional moment.
I personally was lost about 35 minutes before the end, and wanted it desperately to be over. I stormed out the back pissed and yelling. People were getting mad at me as I swore at the movie. I didn't care. Some girl was like "well, I liked it," and all I could snap back was "You would." I was just so mad I gave up good money, time, and sleep to watch what I could have ripped from Netflix
I almost think Sam Raimi MEANT to make this drivel. My guess is he wanted out of the Spiderman contract so he could have his schedule open for The Hobbit if New Line can't figure out what they're doing with Peter Jackson. My gut makes me hope that that was the case, and not the latter, that Sam Raimi ACTUALLY BELIEVED this was a good movie.
The good parts of this movie were, suprisingly, James Franco (Harry/The Hobgoblin), and Topher Grace (Eddie Brock/Venom). I've frowned on James Franco as a pretty-boy wanna-be actor, especially considering his previous jobs between Spiderman movies. Here, finally, he really comes into his own. His character really makes the movie, really brings to life the torn psyche of Harry's good and bad side, and how he chooses to balance it. Not to mention the RIDICULOUSLY cool action sequence between him and Parker in the movie's first act.
Topher Grace knocks this character out of the park. The smarmy, ambitious Eddie Brock was nailed on the head with Topher. His alter ego in the form of Venom needed MUCH more scren time. I'm crossing my fingers and hoping that someone with some pull at Sony Pictures recognizes that Eric from That 70's Show could have his own film franchise using Venom's character. I have no misconception that they will miss this little jewel they found in their hand and throw it away with the detritus left over when the Spiderman 3 series enthusiasm cools, and people start debating which three-quel was worse, X-Men, Spiderman, or Godfather?
I don't think Transformers will be blockbuster hit my inner 8-year-old hopes it to be. The last good movie Michael Bay directed was 'The Rock'. I find myself enthusiastically looking at the Pirate's three-quel with a faded hope. I didn't even really LIKE the Pirates of The Caribbean movies, but I thought they were OK. Now I look to them as the saving grace in summer blockbusters.
I personally was lost about 35 minutes before the end, and wanted it desperately to be over. I stormed out the back pissed and yelling. People were getting mad at me as I swore at the movie. I didn't care. Some girl was like "well, I liked it," and all I could snap back was "You would." I was just so mad I gave up good money, time, and sleep to watch what I could have ripped from Netflix
I almost think Sam Raimi MEANT to make this drivel. My guess is he wanted out of the Spiderman contract so he could have his schedule open for The Hobbit if New Line can't figure out what they're doing with Peter Jackson. My gut makes me hope that that was the case, and not the latter, that Sam Raimi ACTUALLY BELIEVED this was a good movie.
The good parts of this movie were, suprisingly, James Franco (Harry/The Hobgoblin), and Topher Grace (Eddie Brock/Venom). I've frowned on James Franco as a pretty-boy wanna-be actor, especially considering his previous jobs between Spiderman movies. Here, finally, he really comes into his own. His character really makes the movie, really brings to life the torn psyche of Harry's good and bad side, and how he chooses to balance it. Not to mention the RIDICULOUSLY cool action sequence between him and Parker in the movie's first act.
Topher Grace knocks this character out of the park. The smarmy, ambitious Eddie Brock was nailed on the head with Topher. His alter ego in the form of Venom needed MUCH more scren time. I'm crossing my fingers and hoping that someone with some pull at Sony Pictures recognizes that Eric from That 70's Show could have his own film franchise using Venom's character. I have no misconception that they will miss this little jewel they found in their hand and throw it away with the detritus left over when the Spiderman 3 series enthusiasm cools, and people start debating which three-quel was worse, X-Men, Spiderman, or Godfather?
I don't think Transformers will be blockbuster hit my inner 8-year-old hopes it to be. The last good movie Michael Bay directed was 'The Rock'. I find myself enthusiastically looking at the Pirate's three-quel with a faded hope. I didn't even really LIKE the Pirates of The Caribbean movies, but I thought they were OK. Now I look to them as the saving grace in summer blockbusters.
Friday, April 20, 2007
Comedic Genious
I’ve been exposed to Richard Pryor for the first time again in my adult life. I remember as a kid hearing him, and not really getting the jokes. NOW it’s on.
Between him, Eddie Murphy, Dane Cook, Greg Giraldo, and all my other favorites, I can’t help but realize alot of the people in comedy today are by-products of Pryor. There’s not one comedian I can think of that doesn’t seem to take SOMETHING from this man. It’s a shame I discovered him only after he died.
My next comic to submerge myself in is Eddie Izzard. Google him. He’s the smartest comic alive, and doing a new television show called ‘The Riches’.
Between him, Eddie Murphy, Dane Cook, Greg Giraldo, and all my other favorites, I can’t help but realize alot of the people in comedy today are by-products of Pryor. There’s not one comedian I can think of that doesn’t seem to take SOMETHING from this man. It’s a shame I discovered him only after he died.
My next comic to submerge myself in is Eddie Izzard. Google him. He’s the smartest comic alive, and doing a new television show called ‘The Riches’.
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