Can't sleep. Clowns will eat me.

It is fucking impossible to find some sorbet in this town. What's a person got to do to get some goddam sorbet?!

Oh, and today, while walking back from campus, I saw a bird of prey (hawk? falcon? not sure) feasting on a squirrel. Right by the Chemistry Building! I kid you not. If I had a camera on me I would have captured it as proof.

In other news, the Yankees suck, the Knicks suck, the Mets are on a roll, hockey's dead, and my allergies are driving me insane.

Oh, for crying out loud

The contents of President Bush's iPod, dubbed "iPod One," have been revealed by a presidential aide. Not surprisingly, far too much has been read into what is (or isn't) on the iPod. For once, I'll give the President a break. Hell, I wouldn't want anyone making conclusions about me based on the contents of my iPod.

Frank Rich rocks

I wouldn't ordinarily associate Frank Rich's pieces in the New York Times with the term "jump the shark" but I suppose there's a time and place for everything. Check out his Op-Ed piece slamming the recent mediafests that were the Sciavo death watch and the papal death watch.

More "Flick Skinny"

"Sin City" a la "Flick Skinny". (Click on the image for a larger version.)

Culture of life?

Not to be too snarky, but... oh hell, who am I kidding? If I can't be snarky, what the hell do I have left?

Anyway. For a so-called "culture of life" that the powers-that-be are trying to encourage, we seem to be awfully obsessed with death these days. First there was Terry Schiavo's death vigil. Now we've just finished with the Pope's death vigil. Gah.

On second thought, given the unseemly morbidity of the past few week's headline news, I can't summon up the snark necessary to make myself feel better about the pathetic state to which the pop media has deteriorated. Out of respect for Pope John Paul II, I'll just have to be content with telling the pop media to go "F" itself.

Darth Tater!

It's been a slow week.

Madness. And not the March Madness variety either.

So, the tragic saga of Terry Schiavo finally blew up into a full-blown political media circus over the weekend. In a nutshell, after a Florida judge ruled in favor of Michael Schiavo to have the feeding tube removed from Terry Schiavo, Congress, in a flurry of activity (and sanctimonious, self-serving oratory), hastily constructed a bill that would allow a Federal judge to rule on the case. If anyone can be counted as being victorious, it's certainly not Michael Schiavo or his estranged in-laws. No, those who believe they have earned a "victory" will just have to be content to count themselves among the most craven political opportunists in recent memory. In the rush to appease its right-wing religious base, the emergency legislation enacted by the Republican party effectively emasculates the authority of the Florida court system and sets a dangerous precedent with respect to the relationship between the federal government and state governments. Interestingly enough, no one seems to have noticed the irony that Florida, the state that put our current president into office back in 2000, was the first state to be on the receiving end of the federal bitch-slap. It is also particularly worthwhile to note that the Republicans, the champions of states rights, were the ones who were so eager to enact this dramatic judicial intervention. Hmm, I suppose the Gingrich revolution of 1995 is finally over. I guess there is a silver lining to this whole miserable, sordid affair. Of course, with the conventional media having its collective head stuck up its ass, no one is going to pick up on the hypocrisy and Democrats will be demonized as the root of all evil in no time once again. Dammit.

Yeah. Um... duh?

This just in. FCC concludes that the 'Desperate Housewives'/'Monday Night Football' crossover intro not indecent. Oh, for crying out loud.

More journalistic goofiness

While I'm on the topic of "Jeff Gannon," here's the most recent "This Modern World" comic. (Click here for a larger version)



Argh. Once again, the substance of the scandal has been overshadowed by the "salacity" factor. (For anyone keeping score, "salacity" is a real word.) In this case, the appalling security oversight that allowed Mr. "Gannon" into the White House despite his lack of any journalistic credentials has been eclipsed by the (frankly irrelevant) fact that "Jeff Gannon" was a $200/hour male escort who ran homoerotic websites and was delinquent on his taxes.

Anyone remember Rathergate? People got themselves worked up into a frenzy over the fact that the documents were fabricated thanks to observant bloggers who knew the minutiae of the history of fonts and typewriters. No one seemed to be upset that the veracity (or lack thereof) of the purported documents did nothing to mitigate the fact that President Bush himself, arguably the president most eager to commit ground troops into action in recent memory, evaded the draft during the Vietnam War by serving in the Texas Air National Guard.

Yeesh. It's enough to drive one to distraction.

What the fuck?!

First, Bush's military records of his service (or lack thereof, I guess we'll never know at this point) in the Texas Air National Guard mysteriously "disappear." Now this bullshit about the secretly recorded audiotapes leading up to his 2000 presidential election campaign. In a nutshell, the tapes have been handed over to the White House and the matter is considered closed, according to White House press secretary Scott McClellan. Geez, I thought Ari Fleischer irritated me. The current avatar of the Mouth of Bush is just as bad. Anyway, here's the scoop from CNN.

Argh. Just one more example of how little the Bush administration regards the press media. Or rather, it seems that the administration has realized that it can punish uncooperative members of the media (and by "uncooperative" I mean "critical" and by "critical" I mean anyone with a spine who can think for themselves) while rewarding (literally!) "journalists" who are willing to squawk like parrots to promote the administration's policies. And if anyone cries foul, the administration will just unleash the force of the Justice Department on the sorry bastards who had the guts to speak out. Valerie Plame. Armstrong Williams. "Jeff Gannon." Not a shining moment in the history of American journalism right about now. Not at all.

Yay! It's "Flick Skinny"!

Here's the most recent "Flick Skinny" strip, a review of "Constantine." (Click on the image to get a larger version.)



As for me, I saw "Constantine" last weekend and was pleasantly surprised. And by "surprised," I mean that I walked into the movie with no expectations whatsoever and walked out thoroughly entertained. Personally, I would have liked the tone of the film to have been a bit darker, but for the first movie in the franchise (at least, I hope there's a franchise to be had here), I think they did a good job on the whole.

The tortoise and the... hippo?

So, it seems that a young hippopotamus calf in Kenya was swept away from his mother as a result of last month's tsunami. He was pulled into the Indian Ocean and then washed back onto the Kenyan shore where he was found and taken to a local wildlife refuge. Missing his mother, the young hippo has latched onto an aged male Aldabran giant tortoise as a surrogate mother. Apparently, things are going swimmingly. The hippo follows the tortoise everywhere. Kind of cute. Let's hope that the prudes in power over here don't find out about this story. Who knows, given the recent SpongeBob flap, they'll probably try to read something about gender confusion into this and try to ban that "Hungry, Hungry Hippos" game from way back when.

Who lives in a pineapple under the sea?

SpongeBob! SquarePants!

Yup. Another story on SpongeBob's insidious assault on the moral integrity of our country's children.

You've got to be kidding me

So George W. Bush was inaugurated for his second presidential term. Haven't heard all the news yet, but NPR seemed kind of petty in one segment where they nitpicked some aspects of his address. Not that I'm defending President Bush; it's more that I'm disappointed that NPR would succomb to such high school behavior.

On to more important issues: the newest enemy of moral decency is none other than... SpongeBob SquarePants. According to an article in this evening's online edition of the New York Times, the conservative advocacy group Focus on the Family has targeted SpongeBob SquarePants as an advocate for tolerance towards homosexuality.

Un-fucking-believable. Guerilla war in Iraq. Ongoing military operations in Afghanistan. Active efforts to dismantle Social Security. An Attorney General who has no regard for our Constitution or international law. And the most pressing issue is SpongeBob SquarePants?

In other news, I'm totally psyched for Darth Tater. Episode III may totally suck (or it may actually be decent, we'll have to see) but Darth Tater rocks. Check it out.

Deep Impact takes off...

... be afraid. Be very afraid.

Am I the only one apprehensive about this? Does no one else remember Star Blazers? Specifically, the Comet Empire. We couldn't fuck with them back then (i.e., the late '70s when Star Blazers was in its US TV run); what makes us think that we're up to the task now?

That's dedication

OK, I'll try not to post anymore Lord of the Rings stuff for a little while. I just finished going through the extended edition of Return of the King. (Took me two nights. Gah, I must be getting old.) My comments later. But first, this is from Flagpole, the local alternative newsweekly here in Athens. One of the movie critics took it upon himself to watch all three of the extended editions back-to-back-to-back in one sitting. What follows are his hour-by-hour musings (comments in brackets are mine):

Since first seeing The Fellowship of the Ring, I have salivated over the idea of experiencing all three films in one single viewing. With the Dec. 14 release of The Return of the King Special Extended Edition, this dream could finally be fulfilled. So with popcorn, pizza and Southfarthing leaf at hand, I began the longest cinematic journey of my life one Saturday morn at 10:30 am.

Hour 1. The first of countless over-pronounced Morders is uttered. Ian McKellan gets his ass handed to him by 80-year old Christopher Lee in the battle of the Geriatrics. Look, Peter Jackson is eating and burping through the streets of Bree. [Ooo, I'll have to look out for that!]

Hour 2. The day's first bathroom break occurring in only the second hour is a bad sign. What is Sawyer from "Lost" doing here? Wait, it is just Viggo.

Hour 3. Has anyone else realized how much the Balrog resembles Dio's all-pervading Devil?

Hour 4. Boromir's amazingly painful death is also a great moment of cinematic redemption. Fellowship ends at 1:53 pm with Two Towers beginning at 2:04 pm.

Hour 5. The fifth hour begins with Miranda Otto, Karl Urban, Bernard Hill, Brad Dourif, Treebeard and Gandalf the White all stopping by.

Hour 6. The Gollum/Smeagol conversation - the best scene of the series and 2002 - is funny, sad, and the best performance Andy Serkis will ever give.

Hour 7. The Elves appearance at Helm's Deep represents deus ex machina numero uno. The Energizer Battle of Helm's Deep begins at 5:00 pm sharp. Deus ex machina number two, Gandalf and the Rohirrim, appear.

Hour 8. It is 5:30 pm., and the battle still rages. I am surprisingly lucid at the seven and one quarter hours mark. Return begins at 6:05 pm, as does the pizza and beer. The restored confrontation with Saruman is nice but nothing to get worked up over. I would so take Eowyn over Arwen.

Hour 10. [Hey, what happened to Hour 9?] Of all the long hair, that of David Wenham (Faramir) is the worst. That new skull avalanche is tight.

Hour 11. The siege of Gondor is in full-swing, and I sit pondering the Orc who designed that faboo ["faboo"? The fuck?] battering ram. Legolas' oliphant-surfing proves once and for all who the biggest badass is.

Hour 12. I liked Rankin-Bass' Mount Doom better. [I hope you didn't like their songs as well. Did you like Thundercats? Thundercats rocked.] A fourth and final deus ex machina, the eagles, saves Frodo and Sam. [What was the third deus ex machina? Oh, nevermind.] The Eye of Sauron could use some Visine. Sam cries for the eight-billionth time, as do I whilst sitting through all these frigging endings. At 10:15 pm, 11 hours and 45 minutes since Fellowship began, the final credits roll.

The final tale of the tape: 705 minutes, 3 films, 6 DVDs, 1 pot of coffee, 2 breakfast pastries, 1 bag of popcorn, 1 Coke, 2 cookies, 1 pizza, 3 beers, 1 candy bar, 6 bathroom breaks, 0 phone calls, 2 roommates, and 1 cat (never really a factor). - Drew Wheeler

As for me, what's stands out the most from the extended edition of RotK was probably the parlay with the Mouth of Sauron. (Of course, this might change upon subsequent viewings.) I don't know whose idea it was, but for some reason, the Mouth of Sauron was really twitchy. It's as if he had some kind of neck tic. Even better, every time he twitched his head, he'd gnash his teeth, which got me thinking that behind all his insults and threats, what he was really trying to say was: "Do you see anything different about my smile? I got my teeth whitened. I used Colgate whitening strips. My dentist recommended them. I can give you his name if you're interested."

Maybe after all the fighting and crying and handwringing over Sauron's stupid ring (which, incidentally, I still don't understand how it fits over his finger if you look at the gauntlet he's wearing in the beginning of Fellowship of the Ring), perhaps Tolkien's moral was to practice good dental hygiene.

Eee-yikes! Calm down...

Got my hands on the extended edition DVD of "Return of the King." And yet, for all my excitement, I haven't been able to finish watching it. Not because I find the extended and newly added scenes boring. No - I just keep on insisting on attempting to watch it at the end of the night, fully aware that I'll probably fall asleep at some point.

Anyway. Here's an excerpt from a review posted on Amazon.com:

Far less satisfying was "The Witch Kings Hour". Something obscene and profane happened within this scene; something impossible within the context of the universe that Tolkien created. I can imagine him revolving in his grave like a turbine. When the Witch King swooped down into Minas Tirith to confront Gandalf, I expected something similar to the scene [the much ballyhooed showdown between the Fellowship and Saruman after the Ents go medieval on Isengard] described above. I expected a physical confrontation, although it did not exist in the book, and for the Witch King to be harmed, to an extent. Instead, the Witch King broke Gandalf's staff and Gandalf was thrown from his horse. Jackson, as a rabid fan of Tolkien's work, and surrounded by others who were also rabid fans, should have known better.

Laugh if you will, but I almost shut the movie off at that point, so great was my frustration. It's one thing to alter events to try and broaden the appeal of a movie (e.g., the inclusion of Arwen), one thing again to include things that didn't happen in the book to offer some form of structural symbolism (e.g., Gandalf being engulfed in flame), but it's another thing entirely to have something happen that could not *possibly* have happened. The Witch King of Angmar was no feeble opponent, to be certain, but he was only a man. Gandalf was not only of the race of the Maiar (within Tolkien's mythos, I analogize the Maiar to angels), he had also been reborn, sent back to Middle Earth cleansed and "greater". No man, regardless of his form, regardless of any ring he may wear, regardless of the power that runs within him, *could have possibly broken Gandalf's staff*. It disgusted me, as it should every fan of The Lord of the Rings. It was impossible, and entirely unforgivable.

Hmm, I guess I'm not a true fan, since I didn't find that scene offensive at all. After I read that histrionic passage, I started to think about my reaction to the first ten minutes of "Van Helsing" and how badly I wanted to walk out of the theater. (I didn't, but I was tempted.) But then I remembered how God-awful atrocious "Van Helsing" was and I didn't feel bad anymore.

Red Sox win World Series; Bush is re-elected to 2nd term

The score thus far:

Conservative Red Sox fans: seventh Heaven.
Liberal Yankees fans: ninth circle of Hell.

As for liberal Red Sox fans or conservative Yankees fans... I dunno. Somewhere in between, I suppose. Personally, I can handle the fact that my Yankees lost to the Red Sox (which, I suppose, represents some form of baseball Armageddon). Bush being re-elected? No, I'm not quite at peace with that. The difference? When my Yankees lost, it didn't imply the inception of the United Theocracy-Plutocracy of America. Bush's election victory does. Crap. We are so screwed.

Holy shit

At this point (12:34 AM EST), according to NPR's projections, Bush leads Kerry 246 to 206. Kerry needs to sweep the rest of the upper Midwest (Ohio, Michigan, Wisconsin, Minnesota, and Iowa). Fuck. If Kerry pulls ths off, it's gotta equal the Red Sox coming back from 0-3.

Dammit. I don't think I can handle all the conservative gloating if Bush ends up being re-elected. Oh wait, NPR's calling Minnesota for Kerry. Make that Bush: 246 Kerry: 216. Fuck! This feels like the ALCS Games 4 and 5 all over again.

Fuck! Fuck! Fuckity fuck!

Even busy homophobes need to take a break

Case in point: this afternoon, maybe a half hour before kickoff for the Georgia-Tennessee game, I ventured out of the Chemistry building to get some lunch downtown. Maybe not the best timing, seeing how everyone and their mother was heading in the opposite direction towards the stadium. (To clarify: the Chemistry building is right next to the football stadium. And yet from my desk, I still can't see shit. Anyway.) So, there I was, slowly working my way against traffic when I see these preacher types with the 10 foot placards in the middle of the crowd, berating everyone for indulging in such open displays of drunken behavior. I think someone shouted, "I'm so wasted that I can't hear what you're saying." But I digress. One of the placards read: "Adam and Eve. Not Adam and Steve." I think the reverse side said: "Sodomy. It's to die for." For the most part, it seemed that most everybody was either vaguely bewildered or outright pissed that the preacher brigade decided to show up and spoil everyone's fun.

A couple of hours later after a rather leisurely lunch at the local 24 hour diner downtown, I headed back to work and figured I'd try to catch some of the game. Or at least try to figure out what was happening based on the crowd's reaction. Not the best way to take in a football game, perhaps, but I had no desire to buy a ticket. Apparently, neither did the preacher types. They were leaning over the railing just as intently as I was, trying to catch some of the action on the field. Hmm. I guess football is the secret ingredient that brings us all together.