Y'know, it's been months since I posted anything here. I've felt kinda bad about that, so I decided to do something about it.
And now I have.
Oh, and there have been a vast number of things that have been going on in my life, some of which I hope to expand upon here at a future date. But, until then, just know that I am alive and healthy--even if I have been having some odd dizzy spells for the past three weeks--and am keeping far more than simply "busy."
Best for now, and I'll be back soon.
Friday, November 07, 2008
Thursday, July 03, 2008
Please, Enjoy!
I realized today that I want to be like Matt. I've never met Matt, but I had an opportunity to, as he was in Atlanta once. Matt has a great attitude and a charm that is more than just a little contagious. If you don't know Matt, you should. You can learn about him and see if you, too, would like to be like Matt by either clicking the title of this post, or by going to this website if that didn't work right: http://www.vimeo.com/1211060
If you haven't been there yet, go. If you are stubborn and insistent on reading this entire post before going, I'll tell you my reaction to Matt.
I laughed. I cried. It was truly a little over four of the happiest moments of this year for me. It's hard to believe that this one video is so compelling and entertaining, but it says so much in such a simple way.
We are all the same people. We all share the same simple joys and pleasures. Yet we let other, much more stupid things complicate that and ruin our lives.
Take five minutes out of your life. Watch Matt. Enjoy those minutes. And maybe, just maybe, we can all try to have a little bit of Matt in us every day.
If you haven't been there yet, go. If you are stubborn and insistent on reading this entire post before going, I'll tell you my reaction to Matt.
I laughed. I cried. It was truly a little over four of the happiest moments of this year for me. It's hard to believe that this one video is so compelling and entertaining, but it says so much in such a simple way.
We are all the same people. We all share the same simple joys and pleasures. Yet we let other, much more stupid things complicate that and ruin our lives.
Take five minutes out of your life. Watch Matt. Enjoy those minutes. And maybe, just maybe, we can all try to have a little bit of Matt in us every day.
Sunday, May 11, 2008
So...Speed Racer
Well, I'm three weeks into the 2008 movie marathon and we hit a major snag. 2008 is a promising summer for movies, with a movie coming out almost every week through July that I want to see. And I say almost because there are a couple of weeks in there that have some clunkers...and this was one of them.
Now, I kinda wanted to see Speed Racer, up until the point where I read a few reviews talking about how overwhelmingly bad the movie is anyway. But my wife, who was a much bigger fan of the TV show than I was, still wanted to go see it, so, prepared for what was surely a bad movie, I went in ready for the worst.
I needed a bigger boat.
Speed Racer is an amazingly bad movie, that, as one reviewer stated, "looked like someone threw up Skittles all over the screen." Now, if I haven't mentioned it, I am color blind, and about 10 minutes into the movie my wife leaned over to me and told me that she was so jealous of that fact, and the movie was way too colorful for me. It's really difficult to describe just how much of a sensory overload this film is, except perhaps to say that when we walked out of the theater we felt as though the world was an odd, bland place.
And the filmmakers decided that, in order to keep with the title of the film, I'm guessing, they would make sure that things were ALWAYS in motion in the movie. The constant panning and scene swipes in the film are incredibly annoying. I once condemned Francis Ford Copolla's Bram Stoker's Dracula for using to many fades and swipes in a movie, and I would officially like to apologize to him and that film, as having seen Speed Racer I now feel that every other frenetic film ever made was shot with a single stationary camera.
Oh, and the writing...let's talk about the writing for a second. It was horrible. The plot and pacing of the movie was so disjointed and haphazard that it was difficult to follow. What's more, just about every action scene in the movie is so flashy and oversaturated that you can't follow a single action, let alone make heads or tails out of what is happening in the race.
And speaking of the races, if you have any appreciation for well executed and technically accurate racing, well, then you want to avoid this movie at all costs. At almost no moment during the film do the cars ever go in a straight line. I know, I know--strange concept for a car, that whole driving in a straight line thing, but I still wish it happened at least once or twice in a race. Instead, the cars flip and spin in an odd mix of acrobatics and martial arts maneuvers as they literally fight their way down the speedway in an attempt to win the race.
So, all in all, it was a bad movie. A very bad movie, in fact. And yet, because I went into the theater expecting one of the worst movies I've seen in a while, I had fun. I laughed and smiled a lot. And it was because of the movie. Not because of good things, but because it was so bad that I was able to mock it and joke about it with my friends for the length of the whole film. And I also look at the experience as something I can almost brag about. Seeing the ticket receipts from the first weekend--putting the movie around the $20 million range--I will be among the few that can say they actually saw that cacophonous disaster on the big screen.
Still, I know what the Wachowski's were going for when they made the movie, right after the film ended. Every child under the age of about 12 that stood up after the movie was giddy happy. One kid actually danced down the aisle with his mom when it was done. So, all the colors and motion did have a target audience, but it was even younger than my own youthful mindset.
And there were a few moments in the film that made me smile for the right reasons. The race in the middle of the film where Speed drives the Mach 5--oh, did I not mention that he doesn't drive the Mach 5 in the majority of the movie? No, he drives the classic and beloved Mach 6 through most of it--is highly reminiscent of the original show. It even features a bad guy from the original series. And, even though I think I was the only one in my group that enjoyed it, I liked the scene where Racer X took on the mobsters rolling headquarters, mostly for little touches like him constantly shooting up the vehicle in an "X" pattern and such; and it also seemed that fighting a rolling headquarter semi-truck was something right out of the show, and was the only action sequence that was easy to follow visually.
So, anyway...bad movie. Don't go see Speed Racer unless you have kids. Or really want to go see something very, very bad on a big screen that has a very distinct possibility of causing a seizure at any given moment.
On the other hand, if you want to go see a good movie go see Iron Man. I'm thinking of going to see it again just to clean my movie palette...
Now, I kinda wanted to see Speed Racer, up until the point where I read a few reviews talking about how overwhelmingly bad the movie is anyway. But my wife, who was a much bigger fan of the TV show than I was, still wanted to go see it, so, prepared for what was surely a bad movie, I went in ready for the worst.
I needed a bigger boat.
Speed Racer is an amazingly bad movie, that, as one reviewer stated, "looked like someone threw up Skittles all over the screen." Now, if I haven't mentioned it, I am color blind, and about 10 minutes into the movie my wife leaned over to me and told me that she was so jealous of that fact, and the movie was way too colorful for me. It's really difficult to describe just how much of a sensory overload this film is, except perhaps to say that when we walked out of the theater we felt as though the world was an odd, bland place.
And the filmmakers decided that, in order to keep with the title of the film, I'm guessing, they would make sure that things were ALWAYS in motion in the movie. The constant panning and scene swipes in the film are incredibly annoying. I once condemned Francis Ford Copolla's Bram Stoker's Dracula for using to many fades and swipes in a movie, and I would officially like to apologize to him and that film, as having seen Speed Racer I now feel that every other frenetic film ever made was shot with a single stationary camera.
Oh, and the writing...let's talk about the writing for a second. It was horrible. The plot and pacing of the movie was so disjointed and haphazard that it was difficult to follow. What's more, just about every action scene in the movie is so flashy and oversaturated that you can't follow a single action, let alone make heads or tails out of what is happening in the race.
And speaking of the races, if you have any appreciation for well executed and technically accurate racing, well, then you want to avoid this movie at all costs. At almost no moment during the film do the cars ever go in a straight line. I know, I know--strange concept for a car, that whole driving in a straight line thing, but I still wish it happened at least once or twice in a race. Instead, the cars flip and spin in an odd mix of acrobatics and martial arts maneuvers as they literally fight their way down the speedway in an attempt to win the race.
So, all in all, it was a bad movie. A very bad movie, in fact. And yet, because I went into the theater expecting one of the worst movies I've seen in a while, I had fun. I laughed and smiled a lot. And it was because of the movie. Not because of good things, but because it was so bad that I was able to mock it and joke about it with my friends for the length of the whole film. And I also look at the experience as something I can almost brag about. Seeing the ticket receipts from the first weekend--putting the movie around the $20 million range--I will be among the few that can say they actually saw that cacophonous disaster on the big screen.
Still, I know what the Wachowski's were going for when they made the movie, right after the film ended. Every child under the age of about 12 that stood up after the movie was giddy happy. One kid actually danced down the aisle with his mom when it was done. So, all the colors and motion did have a target audience, but it was even younger than my own youthful mindset.
And there were a few moments in the film that made me smile for the right reasons. The race in the middle of the film where Speed drives the Mach 5--oh, did I not mention that he doesn't drive the Mach 5 in the majority of the movie? No, he drives the classic and beloved Mach 6 through most of it--is highly reminiscent of the original show. It even features a bad guy from the original series. And, even though I think I was the only one in my group that enjoyed it, I liked the scene where Racer X took on the mobsters rolling headquarters, mostly for little touches like him constantly shooting up the vehicle in an "X" pattern and such; and it also seemed that fighting a rolling headquarter semi-truck was something right out of the show, and was the only action sequence that was easy to follow visually.
So, anyway...bad movie. Don't go see Speed Racer unless you have kids. Or really want to go see something very, very bad on a big screen that has a very distinct possibility of causing a seizure at any given moment.
On the other hand, if you want to go see a good movie go see Iron Man. I'm thinking of going to see it again just to clean my movie palette...
Sunday, May 04, 2008
Pride...In The Name of Love
No, this post has absolutely nothing to do with U2.
What this post deals with are two different people who have been in my life for a very long time that I want to spend a moment praising for their recent efforts.
A week ago, one of my oldest and dearest friends, Jerry Murdock, held a party to, as he phrased it, "Celebrate the Murdocks". He didn't make a big noise as to WHY he was wanting to do this, but I would like to think that everyone who made it to the party--and there were about 100 of us--knew why.
About 4 years ago, Jerry and his wife Phyllis took in two children not their own. Phyllis' sister and her husband had gone to a dark place in their lives, and their children were being taken away by the authorities. Rather than see them put in a home of strangers, the two of them took both children, a young boy and his younger sister, into their own house to live beside the couple's own two daughters. Overnight, Jerry and his wife went from having two young children to having four young children, and they were both happy to do it.
Well, time went on, and the situation with the two children's birth parents didn't improve. And, after almost four years of living with them, Jerry and Phyllis decided that it was time to bring the two children into their lives officially. So, taking the proper procedures and steps, they filed adoption papers. And, a few weeks ago the two children became Cody and Stevie Murdock.
Being a good friend of Jerry's, he confided in me throughout the process, telling me the trials and tribulations that occurred, and the stress that it put on him personally to fight for these children's well being. But, throughout it all, he never once faltered. He never thought about himself, but about what needed to be done for those kids. And, even though they never planned it, they now have twice the children they planned on. And with them having the current ages of 10, 11, 12 and 13, he's got more than his fair share of headaches ahead of him. But I know that he won't let anything get to him. Being one of the most laid-back people on the planet, he'll take it all in stride. But I don't want anyone to ever look at his easy-going nature the wrong way: he's willing to fight when the time comes and never back down.
And then there is the matter of someone else in my life--someone even closer to me than Jerry. Earlier this year my wife, Allyson, found herself unemployed. And in this day and age, that's not something anyone wants to face. And what's more, she was quickly coming to realize that the career path she had chosen, that of being a graphic designer, wasn't where she wanted to be at this point. It was time for a change.
So, she began a venture of her own. She had long been talking about starting up a company that involved one of her true passions in life, tea, and fate had brought her the opportunity to pursue that dream.
Thus, she started Coyotea, a company that will provide fine teas to fine dining establishments, along with providing the staff of those places the education to prepare and serve that tea properly. This isn't a wild idea, as she has done her research and there are several successful companies providing these same services in a variety of cities around the country. She has put in hours upon hours of research, created her own special unique blends of tea, and put together a business plan and sales collateral to make this business a success.
Of course, any new business isn't going to bring in any money right off the bat, so she had to do something that would bring in money. Today is her second day working at Starbucks. She understands that it isn't going to bring in the type of money that she made as a graphic designer, but the work environment is far more pleasant than that of a corporate desk job, and it leaves her with the energy to continue to work on her own business in the interim.
It takes an amazing amount of courage to take that leap. To believe in yourself and your dream to the point where you are willing to take far less money, and all but double your workload at the same time. But the ultimate goal is worth it: to have a career that isn't only something that you want to do, but something that you have created from the ground up. Something that you can truly call your own.
So there you have it. Two people who have both taken steps that most wouldn't consider. Done things that others are often too afraid to do themselves. The pride I have in knowing both of these people is incalculable. And that they count me among their friends and loved ones humbles me.
So, I wanted to take a few moments to sit down and share what I was feeling, and express how proud I am to know both of them. Oh, and also to thank them for being inspirations to me in ways that they might not ever truly understand, because, well, they won't see what they've done as anything special. Which is yet another reason that they are that amazing.
What this post deals with are two different people who have been in my life for a very long time that I want to spend a moment praising for their recent efforts.
A week ago, one of my oldest and dearest friends, Jerry Murdock, held a party to, as he phrased it, "Celebrate the Murdocks". He didn't make a big noise as to WHY he was wanting to do this, but I would like to think that everyone who made it to the party--and there were about 100 of us--knew why.
About 4 years ago, Jerry and his wife Phyllis took in two children not their own. Phyllis' sister and her husband had gone to a dark place in their lives, and their children were being taken away by the authorities. Rather than see them put in a home of strangers, the two of them took both children, a young boy and his younger sister, into their own house to live beside the couple's own two daughters. Overnight, Jerry and his wife went from having two young children to having four young children, and they were both happy to do it.
Well, time went on, and the situation with the two children's birth parents didn't improve. And, after almost four years of living with them, Jerry and Phyllis decided that it was time to bring the two children into their lives officially. So, taking the proper procedures and steps, they filed adoption papers. And, a few weeks ago the two children became Cody and Stevie Murdock.
Being a good friend of Jerry's, he confided in me throughout the process, telling me the trials and tribulations that occurred, and the stress that it put on him personally to fight for these children's well being. But, throughout it all, he never once faltered. He never thought about himself, but about what needed to be done for those kids. And, even though they never planned it, they now have twice the children they planned on. And with them having the current ages of 10, 11, 12 and 13, he's got more than his fair share of headaches ahead of him. But I know that he won't let anything get to him. Being one of the most laid-back people on the planet, he'll take it all in stride. But I don't want anyone to ever look at his easy-going nature the wrong way: he's willing to fight when the time comes and never back down.
And then there is the matter of someone else in my life--someone even closer to me than Jerry. Earlier this year my wife, Allyson, found herself unemployed. And in this day and age, that's not something anyone wants to face. And what's more, she was quickly coming to realize that the career path she had chosen, that of being a graphic designer, wasn't where she wanted to be at this point. It was time for a change.
So, she began a venture of her own. She had long been talking about starting up a company that involved one of her true passions in life, tea, and fate had brought her the opportunity to pursue that dream.
Thus, she started Coyotea, a company that will provide fine teas to fine dining establishments, along with providing the staff of those places the education to prepare and serve that tea properly. This isn't a wild idea, as she has done her research and there are several successful companies providing these same services in a variety of cities around the country. She has put in hours upon hours of research, created her own special unique blends of tea, and put together a business plan and sales collateral to make this business a success.
Of course, any new business isn't going to bring in any money right off the bat, so she had to do something that would bring in money. Today is her second day working at Starbucks. She understands that it isn't going to bring in the type of money that she made as a graphic designer, but the work environment is far more pleasant than that of a corporate desk job, and it leaves her with the energy to continue to work on her own business in the interim.
It takes an amazing amount of courage to take that leap. To believe in yourself and your dream to the point where you are willing to take far less money, and all but double your workload at the same time. But the ultimate goal is worth it: to have a career that isn't only something that you want to do, but something that you have created from the ground up. Something that you can truly call your own.
So there you have it. Two people who have both taken steps that most wouldn't consider. Done things that others are often too afraid to do themselves. The pride I have in knowing both of these people is incalculable. And that they count me among their friends and loved ones humbles me.
So, I wanted to take a few moments to sit down and share what I was feeling, and express how proud I am to know both of them. Oh, and also to thank them for being inspirations to me in ways that they might not ever truly understand, because, well, they won't see what they've done as anything special. Which is yet another reason that they are that amazing.
Monday, April 14, 2008
Verbanizing Our Vocabulation
I have a degree in English. What this means varies from person to person. Some feel that it makes me a pretentious ass, who speaks as though he was better than everyone around them. Others feel that I wasted my education completely. And yet others--the ones that know me better--doubt this completely and/or think that the college I went to must hand out degrees to anyone who gives them enough money.
What it means to me is that I grind my teeth when I see the horrible things that have happened to the English language in the past couple of decades.
Now, I'm sure that cringing at the abuse the language takes has been going on as long as people have been studying language, but since I have only been alive during my lifetime (that I can tell, anyway), I'm going to focus on that. And more specifically, what seems to be happening more and more and more...and that would be creating new words out of old words in entirely the wrong way.
This is recently inspired by two instances inside of 24 hours. Tonight, coming back from picking up a quick dinner, I saw a place called Synergenistic Fitness. Not Synergy Fitness, or even Synergistic Fitness, but Synergenistic Fitness. Maybe it was a typo. Maybe I misread it (God, I hope I misread it...), but I fear not.
The other comes from watching a train wreck of a television series called Kymora: Life in the Fab Lane yesterday and hearing the model/entrepreneur/egomaniac the show is about refer to her life as Fabulosity. And that was no typo or me mishearing it. She said it several times. Wow. That takes some thinking to figure out.
And those are just two recent examples. The habit of "verbing" words makes no sense to me. Someone the other day told me that they had just "iPodded" some songs. Huh? It was bad enough that "Photoshop" became a verb, but I think that things are progressing far too quickly down this path. I dunno, maybe I'm too old, but it bugs me.
I, for one, would like to address this phenomenon in the only way that I can think to handle it...
Personally, I find this creativiosity to be most enlightenish. Creating a sensationly moment in my life, enhancenating even the most awesometastic happenstuff that could ever flowup to my brainly craters. But, depressionally considerating the ramificationing of the verbinations that might be creationated from this phenomenons, I wisenly figure that all intellegentsia that could inhabinate the planet could resultify in my own personalizified irradicadory moment aidicated from an outside accomplimentary person wieldifiying a projectilized weapon.
In other words: shoot me now...shoot me now...
What it means to me is that I grind my teeth when I see the horrible things that have happened to the English language in the past couple of decades.
Now, I'm sure that cringing at the abuse the language takes has been going on as long as people have been studying language, but since I have only been alive during my lifetime (that I can tell, anyway), I'm going to focus on that. And more specifically, what seems to be happening more and more and more...and that would be creating new words out of old words in entirely the wrong way.
This is recently inspired by two instances inside of 24 hours. Tonight, coming back from picking up a quick dinner, I saw a place called Synergenistic Fitness. Not Synergy Fitness, or even Synergistic Fitness, but Synergenistic Fitness. Maybe it was a typo. Maybe I misread it (God, I hope I misread it...), but I fear not.
The other comes from watching a train wreck of a television series called Kymora: Life in the Fab Lane yesterday and hearing the model/entrepreneur/egomaniac the show is about refer to her life as Fabulosity. And that was no typo or me mishearing it. She said it several times. Wow. That takes some thinking to figure out.
And those are just two recent examples. The habit of "verbing" words makes no sense to me. Someone the other day told me that they had just "iPodded" some songs. Huh? It was bad enough that "Photoshop" became a verb, but I think that things are progressing far too quickly down this path. I dunno, maybe I'm too old, but it bugs me.
I, for one, would like to address this phenomenon in the only way that I can think to handle it...
Personally, I find this creativiosity to be most enlightenish. Creating a sensationly moment in my life, enhancenating even the most awesometastic happenstuff that could ever flowup to my brainly craters. But, depressionally considerating the ramificationing of the verbinations that might be creationated from this phenomenons, I wisenly figure that all intellegentsia that could inhabinate the planet could resultify in my own personalizified irradicadory moment aidicated from an outside accomplimentary person wieldifiying a projectilized weapon.
In other words: shoot me now...shoot me now...
Wednesday, April 09, 2008
Not Quite There...
I was born in the south. I was raised in the north. I moved back to the south just in time to finish high school, and have lived here ever since. I like it here, and consider myself a southerner at this point, with no plans to leave.
But that doesn't mean that I'm fully to that "Southerner" point by all standards. And I had that illustrated by a simple fact that I never heard before, and it still seems more than a little odd to me.
Namely, it seems that there was--and possibly still is--a habit of putting peanuts in Coca-Cola. Let me say that again. Peanuts put in Coca-Cola.
Yeah, it doesn't matter how many times I say it or write it, it just sounds...wrong. I like peanuts. I don't dislike Coca-Cola (though there are many other better soft drinks out there, in my opinion). But the idea of the two of them together just seem horrible. And not in a small way, either.
My wife, who told me of this tradition, claims that it was so that the salt on the peanuts would keep the carbonation going longer, but wouldn't it be easier to just add salt? Peanuts don't just taste like salt; they have a distinct flavor of their own, and that flavor doesn't exactly scream Coke to me.
So, while this probably isn't a common tradition in the region anymore, it does make me realize that--even though the south is my home--I'm not really a southerner. In fact, I'm not a northerner, either. Or really, a midwesterner, being raised in Indiana. I'm just me, which is fine. I just happen to be happy living in the south, and I plan to be here for a long, long time. It's a great place, really.
Well, except for the pollen. But that was my rant from last year about this time. It still sucks, to be honest.
But that doesn't mean that I'm fully to that "Southerner" point by all standards. And I had that illustrated by a simple fact that I never heard before, and it still seems more than a little odd to me.
Namely, it seems that there was--and possibly still is--a habit of putting peanuts in Coca-Cola. Let me say that again. Peanuts put in Coca-Cola.
Yeah, it doesn't matter how many times I say it or write it, it just sounds...wrong. I like peanuts. I don't dislike Coca-Cola (though there are many other better soft drinks out there, in my opinion). But the idea of the two of them together just seem horrible. And not in a small way, either.
My wife, who told me of this tradition, claims that it was so that the salt on the peanuts would keep the carbonation going longer, but wouldn't it be easier to just add salt? Peanuts don't just taste like salt; they have a distinct flavor of their own, and that flavor doesn't exactly scream Coke to me.
So, while this probably isn't a common tradition in the region anymore, it does make me realize that--even though the south is my home--I'm not really a southerner. In fact, I'm not a northerner, either. Or really, a midwesterner, being raised in Indiana. I'm just me, which is fine. I just happen to be happy living in the south, and I plan to be here for a long, long time. It's a great place, really.
Well, except for the pollen. But that was my rant from last year about this time. It still sucks, to be honest.
Sunday, March 30, 2008
Wrestlemania
It's been a while since I posted here. Something I aim to correct. And tonight is the start of this trend.
I went over to my friend Brian's house to watch Wrestlemania XXIV. Yes, that does mean that I am something of a closet wrestling fan, and have been ever since my wife introduced me to watching it about a decade ago. Oh yes, you read that correctly: my WIFE introduced me to watching wrestling. I mean, I watched it a little as a kid, but I stopped before I hit my teens. And then she got me back into it, and we have watched it off and on since then.
And tonight we went and watched Wrestlemania. It was an okay show, with decent matches and performances. The people we were watching it with were a lot of fun, and Brian and his wife Jessie were very gracious hosts.
But the big news of the night--especially for long-time wrestling fans--was that tonight was the final match for Ric Flair. Flair has been called the greatest wrestler of all time, and though I am not personally a fan of his, I cannot truly argue with that claim. His ability to perform both in and out of the ring set a new standard for the industry, and changed it in many ways. And to hear other wrestlers speak of him, they only have kind words to say about his support and willingness to help younger, up and coming wrestlers make it in a very difficult industry, and perform as a professional in every situation. I salute his career, and thank him for all the entertaining moments that he has provided over the years.
But there is more...
Now that Ric has retired from the ring, what are his career options? Well, after some discussion, I think that Brian hit on it tonight during the show. He can go into the cereal business. With very little marketing, he can create a staple of any pantry, with a box of Flair-O's. And it's going to be so easy for him to create, too. All he has to do is take a box of Cheerios and add a single letter "W" to the box...
Yeah. It's a wrestling joke.
WOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!
I went over to my friend Brian's house to watch Wrestlemania XXIV. Yes, that does mean that I am something of a closet wrestling fan, and have been ever since my wife introduced me to watching it about a decade ago. Oh yes, you read that correctly: my WIFE introduced me to watching wrestling. I mean, I watched it a little as a kid, but I stopped before I hit my teens. And then she got me back into it, and we have watched it off and on since then.
And tonight we went and watched Wrestlemania. It was an okay show, with decent matches and performances. The people we were watching it with were a lot of fun, and Brian and his wife Jessie were very gracious hosts.
But the big news of the night--especially for long-time wrestling fans--was that tonight was the final match for Ric Flair. Flair has been called the greatest wrestler of all time, and though I am not personally a fan of his, I cannot truly argue with that claim. His ability to perform both in and out of the ring set a new standard for the industry, and changed it in many ways. And to hear other wrestlers speak of him, they only have kind words to say about his support and willingness to help younger, up and coming wrestlers make it in a very difficult industry, and perform as a professional in every situation. I salute his career, and thank him for all the entertaining moments that he has provided over the years.
But there is more...
Now that Ric has retired from the ring, what are his career options? Well, after some discussion, I think that Brian hit on it tonight during the show. He can go into the cereal business. With very little marketing, he can create a staple of any pantry, with a box of Flair-O's. And it's going to be so easy for him to create, too. All he has to do is take a box of Cheerios and add a single letter "W" to the box...
Yeah. It's a wrestling joke.
WOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!
Sunday, January 20, 2008
So...Cloverfield
I saw the movie Cloverfield yesterday, and I've decided that I want to talk about it. That means that there are going to be some, but there are going to be a PLETHORA of spoilers below. So, if that is an issue to you, stop reading now.
I mean it.
Okay, so...Cloverfield. When I first saw the trailer, I was kinda excited about the movie as I am a big-time fan of giant monster movies. Then I read a little about the movie, and I lost some of that interest. I was worried about the film-making style, what with the whole thing being shot in hand-held camera style, i.e.: Blair Witch Project. Then, as it got closer, my interest grew again and I was pretty anxious to see it once again. So, I saw it.
And was very disappointed.
Not in the film-making style. That wasn't so bad, actually. The hand-held personal angle of the storytelling was somewhat compelling, even. And the personal interest side of the story works--for the first two-thirds of the movie. The problem is the last third of the film.
You see, Cloverfield isn't a monster movie. It's a movie about 9-11. A massive amount of damage is done to the city, and we follow a group of people trying to survive the devastation and rescue the love interest of the tale. Not bad, really, but after they save the woman they have nothing left to do. That's because the monster isn't a part of the movie. The monster is, at best, a tertiary character in the film.
Let's look a little deeper, shall we. The film is told as a documented version of what happened to New York after a huge disaster strikes the city. Without warning, a huge blow destroys significant portions of the city, and even one towering skyscraper (which I thought was the Empire State Building, but there was some debate on that with the people I went with) collapses and send dust through the streets causing even more damage. No one knows who or what has done this damage to the city, all they know is the destruction around them. It looks like a war zone.
Sound familiar? And don't get me wrong, I don't have a problem with this. My favorite Kaiju film (that would be a giant monster movie in case you didn't know) is Godzilla. Godzilla is a reaction by Japanese film-makers to the atomic bomb being dropped on their country. The amazing power and devastating power of the atom is brought to life as a monster that they have to confront and deal with, and ultimately they figure out a way that the power can be tamed and the threat destroyed.
Not so much here. Part of that is due to the fact that, as of today, we as Americans have no idea what happened on 9-11. Oh sure, we know who is responsible and some of the logistics of the event, but we don't know exactly the events that led up to it and created the disaster. There is no face to put on the monster. Hence the reason that we get a monster in this film that is vague and unclear. And when you do see it, it doesn't make sense and looks kinda stupid. So we have a monster that isn't something that we understand or can kill or control in any way.
And this creates problems in a film-making sense. Once the main characters find and rescue the love-interest of the film, the creators don't know what to do. There is no happy ending--hell, there isn't even much of an ending, more of a stopping--because they don't know what to do with it. That's because they take absolutely no time at all to develop the threat of the monster. We never find out what it is or why it's doing the things that it is. There is a vague indication that the thing has come from outer space as the last scene in the movie is a flashback (the video tape that the events are being filmed on have footage from about a month earlier that shows something that looks like a meteor landing in the ocean), but that's it. We don't know anything else. And they deliberately go out of their way NOT to tell us anything. They have chances. And that, above everything else, is what makes the movie frustrating. The human interest side of the story works for the first two-thirds of the film, but after that they need to pull the story back to show more of what's happening. Provide depth to the tale. They don't do that.
I have heard the argument that the film doesn't do that to preserve the "reality" of the film. Oooookaaaay...let's look at that. They wanted to give it a realistic approach. Fine. Then why does the monster change size and shape? Early on, it is clearly shown that there are multiple tentacles that destroy a building, but later we see no tentacles at all. And no, it wasn't the beast's tail, as that is still just a single thing, and there were MULTIPLE tentacles. And then we see the monster walking around the city upright, like a humanoid, but later when the creature is shown clearly, we see nothing but the amazing gimp-beast, lumbering about with no legs and only backwards shaped arms. And, to top it off, at no time does it look threatening. It looks--dumb. In fact, it reminds me of the newborn alien from Alien: Resurrection, which was the thing that made that film bad. But I honestly don't want to sit here and attack the design of the monster; just because I thought it looked dumb doesn't mean that everyone will--that is a matter of personal taste.
So, let's look at the "reality" of the humans. First off, there is the matter of "recording the events for history" that is emphasized so often in the movie. For someone doing that, this guy goes way out of his way not to show anything. The few times that things do happen that would be worth documenting he turns the camera away from things, not giving us a clear view of anything. An example: the monster finally shows up and the military attacks it, and he chooses to film his friends cowering in the corner rather than show the attack. And then there is later in the movie where they have all gotten to the evac point the military sets up--and the helicopter taking them away flies right over the monster...for a long time. Long enough for the monster to destroy the helicopter. Yeah, the military does that sort of thing all the time. And let's not even get into the concept that they are able to walk down a dozen flights of a building that is leaning into another building--and the building that is holding up the other building is fine except for some superficial damage. So, no, the "realistic" angle doesn't hold up.
But overall, the film is disappointing because it forgets to be a monster movie. A monster movie is about the monster. At some point Hollywood has forgotten that. Cloverfield is about a bunch of people that die--and yes, they all die--and we never find out why or what is killing them. And that isn't a story, it's a scene. Shame the people who made the movie don't understand the difference.
I mean it.
Okay, so...Cloverfield. When I first saw the trailer, I was kinda excited about the movie as I am a big-time fan of giant monster movies. Then I read a little about the movie, and I lost some of that interest. I was worried about the film-making style, what with the whole thing being shot in hand-held camera style, i.e.: Blair Witch Project. Then, as it got closer, my interest grew again and I was pretty anxious to see it once again. So, I saw it.
And was very disappointed.
Not in the film-making style. That wasn't so bad, actually. The hand-held personal angle of the storytelling was somewhat compelling, even. And the personal interest side of the story works--for the first two-thirds of the movie. The problem is the last third of the film.
You see, Cloverfield isn't a monster movie. It's a movie about 9-11. A massive amount of damage is done to the city, and we follow a group of people trying to survive the devastation and rescue the love interest of the tale. Not bad, really, but after they save the woman they have nothing left to do. That's because the monster isn't a part of the movie. The monster is, at best, a tertiary character in the film.
Let's look a little deeper, shall we. The film is told as a documented version of what happened to New York after a huge disaster strikes the city. Without warning, a huge blow destroys significant portions of the city, and even one towering skyscraper (which I thought was the Empire State Building, but there was some debate on that with the people I went with) collapses and send dust through the streets causing even more damage. No one knows who or what has done this damage to the city, all they know is the destruction around them. It looks like a war zone.
Sound familiar? And don't get me wrong, I don't have a problem with this. My favorite Kaiju film (that would be a giant monster movie in case you didn't know) is Godzilla. Godzilla is a reaction by Japanese film-makers to the atomic bomb being dropped on their country. The amazing power and devastating power of the atom is brought to life as a monster that they have to confront and deal with, and ultimately they figure out a way that the power can be tamed and the threat destroyed.
Not so much here. Part of that is due to the fact that, as of today, we as Americans have no idea what happened on 9-11. Oh sure, we know who is responsible and some of the logistics of the event, but we don't know exactly the events that led up to it and created the disaster. There is no face to put on the monster. Hence the reason that we get a monster in this film that is vague and unclear. And when you do see it, it doesn't make sense and looks kinda stupid. So we have a monster that isn't something that we understand or can kill or control in any way.
And this creates problems in a film-making sense. Once the main characters find and rescue the love-interest of the film, the creators don't know what to do. There is no happy ending--hell, there isn't even much of an ending, more of a stopping--because they don't know what to do with it. That's because they take absolutely no time at all to develop the threat of the monster. We never find out what it is or why it's doing the things that it is. There is a vague indication that the thing has come from outer space as the last scene in the movie is a flashback (the video tape that the events are being filmed on have footage from about a month earlier that shows something that looks like a meteor landing in the ocean), but that's it. We don't know anything else. And they deliberately go out of their way NOT to tell us anything. They have chances. And that, above everything else, is what makes the movie frustrating. The human interest side of the story works for the first two-thirds of the film, but after that they need to pull the story back to show more of what's happening. Provide depth to the tale. They don't do that.
I have heard the argument that the film doesn't do that to preserve the "reality" of the film. Oooookaaaay...let's look at that. They wanted to give it a realistic approach. Fine. Then why does the monster change size and shape? Early on, it is clearly shown that there are multiple tentacles that destroy a building, but later we see no tentacles at all. And no, it wasn't the beast's tail, as that is still just a single thing, and there were MULTIPLE tentacles. And then we see the monster walking around the city upright, like a humanoid, but later when the creature is shown clearly, we see nothing but the amazing gimp-beast, lumbering about with no legs and only backwards shaped arms. And, to top it off, at no time does it look threatening. It looks--dumb. In fact, it reminds me of the newborn alien from Alien: Resurrection, which was the thing that made that film bad. But I honestly don't want to sit here and attack the design of the monster; just because I thought it looked dumb doesn't mean that everyone will--that is a matter of personal taste.
So, let's look at the "reality" of the humans. First off, there is the matter of "recording the events for history" that is emphasized so often in the movie. For someone doing that, this guy goes way out of his way not to show anything. The few times that things do happen that would be worth documenting he turns the camera away from things, not giving us a clear view of anything. An example: the monster finally shows up and the military attacks it, and he chooses to film his friends cowering in the corner rather than show the attack. And then there is later in the movie where they have all gotten to the evac point the military sets up--and the helicopter taking them away flies right over the monster...for a long time. Long enough for the monster to destroy the helicopter. Yeah, the military does that sort of thing all the time. And let's not even get into the concept that they are able to walk down a dozen flights of a building that is leaning into another building--and the building that is holding up the other building is fine except for some superficial damage. So, no, the "realistic" angle doesn't hold up.
But overall, the film is disappointing because it forgets to be a monster movie. A monster movie is about the monster. At some point Hollywood has forgotten that. Cloverfield is about a bunch of people that die--and yes, they all die--and we never find out why or what is killing them. And that isn't a story, it's a scene. Shame the people who made the movie don't understand the difference.
Sunday, January 06, 2008
Better or Worse?
Have you often wondered where to rate all of the music that you listen to? Well, I am here to give you a simple guide to help you through all of your hard times when deciding where any particular tune that you might listen to would rank.
This idea comes to me from my friend John Quiring, who took minutes I am sure to develop this complicated and precise measuring tool.
The way it works is simple: is it better or worse than 38 Special?
That is to say, when you listen to a song, is that particular song better or worse than something that 38 Special performed. This particular litmus was chosen because, while they aren't particularly great, they aren't really that good either. To make the point, when you hear 38 Special come on the radio, normally you aren't happy to hear the song, but is it really bad enough to bother changing the channel? Normally, no. You just endure the song for the approximate three minutes that it will be on.
Let's look at an example shall we? Say that the song Ice Ice Baby by Vanilla Ice were to come on the radio. Go ahead and say it, I'll wait.
Now that you've said that, imagine it happening. The first thing that you would do is change the channel--while screaming, naturally. But if Eleanor Rigby by the Beatles comes on, you would stay on the channel and sing along. Well, you would if you had taste, anyway.
But what about, say, Jeremy by Pearl Jam? Is that bad enough to change the channel, or just not bad enough to bother with? Well, that's where you decide: is it better or worse than 38 Special?
Only you can decide the final fate of any song, but at least now you have a measuring stick. Good luck.
Thursday, December 20, 2007
Happy Holidays
Sure, it's been about three months since I posted, but that doesn't mean that I've been sitting around doing nothing. In fact, I've been doing so much that I haven't really had time to post here. But that changes today! ...well, I guess that was obvious...
I want to talk about Christmas. Not the holiday itself, but the joyous act of gift giving. To the point where I have decided that I want to post...
The Top Gifts I Am NOT Giving This Year!
Gift That Inspired This List
That would be the Zen Moving Dolphin. I saw this wonder at Macy's earlier today, and it took my breath away. Not in a good way, either. This magical monument consists of several pieces of plastic, carefully molded to look like a dolphin when put together--think of a dolphin that has been cut into layers and then reassembled. The beautiful part of this sculpture is that the pieces undulate up and down to mimic the motion of a dolphin swimming. And you can have it for only $80.00. Wow. Who DOESN'T want that under their tree?...
Gift That I Wanted To Get My WIfe That Would Have Pissed Off PETA
Belk's at Town Center has a fur department. They have an absolutely gorgeous shaved mink coat that would have looked spectacular on Allyson. Alas, though, I didn't have the $3000.00 it would have taken to bring the thing home. Here's hoping for that Christmas Lottery miracle!
Gift That I Would Love To Get Everyone Who Wears Glasses
I have laser eyes now. About two months back I went and had my eyes sliced open and then zapped with a machine that made it so I no longer have to wear glasses. It's an amazing thing. It is wonderful to be able to see things with my own eyes, instead of having to rely on a piece of plastic to see...well, anything. I was pretty much legally blind before hand, and now I have 20/15 vision. Technology is a miracle. It's also expensive as hell, so, again, I can't afford it. But I recommend it to anyone that might be thinking about it. (I saw Dr. K at Piedmont Better Vision. They have financing.)
Gift That Everyone Asks About But I Couldn't Find
Peace on Earth. I looked everywhere, honest. Nobody has it in stock. Go figure.
Gift That Nobody Should Ever Have, Ever. I Mean It.
A cystourethroscopy. You don't want it, honest. I had one last week. It's no fun. I won't go into details, but suffice it to say that when they say "your clinching, can you relax?", it's something easier to ask than do. Oh, and I'm fine. The results were great and I'm okay.
Gift That I Want To Give My Team
Anything at this point would be an improvement. The Atlanta Falcons have had the single worst twelve month span of any professional football team in history. Everything that could have turned against them, has, and it looks like a long road to recovery. Unfortunately there isn't much that I can give them except support, which I will do every week. So, I guess I am giving them something, after all...
So, for today, that is my list. If I think of other things to add to it, I will. But I do want to give one thing to everyone taking the time to read this, especially after me not posting for about three months:
Merry Christmas!
I want to talk about Christmas. Not the holiday itself, but the joyous act of gift giving. To the point where I have decided that I want to post...
The Top Gifts I Am NOT Giving This Year!
Gift That Inspired This List
That would be the Zen Moving Dolphin. I saw this wonder at Macy's earlier today, and it took my breath away. Not in a good way, either. This magical monument consists of several pieces of plastic, carefully molded to look like a dolphin when put together--think of a dolphin that has been cut into layers and then reassembled. The beautiful part of this sculpture is that the pieces undulate up and down to mimic the motion of a dolphin swimming. And you can have it for only $80.00. Wow. Who DOESN'T want that under their tree?...
Gift That I Wanted To Get My WIfe That Would Have Pissed Off PETA
Belk's at Town Center has a fur department. They have an absolutely gorgeous shaved mink coat that would have looked spectacular on Allyson. Alas, though, I didn't have the $3000.00 it would have taken to bring the thing home. Here's hoping for that Christmas Lottery miracle!
Gift That I Would Love To Get Everyone Who Wears Glasses
I have laser eyes now. About two months back I went and had my eyes sliced open and then zapped with a machine that made it so I no longer have to wear glasses. It's an amazing thing. It is wonderful to be able to see things with my own eyes, instead of having to rely on a piece of plastic to see...well, anything. I was pretty much legally blind before hand, and now I have 20/15 vision. Technology is a miracle. It's also expensive as hell, so, again, I can't afford it. But I recommend it to anyone that might be thinking about it. (I saw Dr. K at Piedmont Better Vision. They have financing.)
Gift That Everyone Asks About But I Couldn't Find
Peace on Earth. I looked everywhere, honest. Nobody has it in stock. Go figure.
Gift That Nobody Should Ever Have, Ever. I Mean It.
A cystourethroscopy. You don't want it, honest. I had one last week. It's no fun. I won't go into details, but suffice it to say that when they say "your clinching, can you relax?", it's something easier to ask than do. Oh, and I'm fine. The results were great and I'm okay.
Gift That I Want To Give My Team
Anything at this point would be an improvement. The Atlanta Falcons have had the single worst twelve month span of any professional football team in history. Everything that could have turned against them, has, and it looks like a long road to recovery. Unfortunately there isn't much that I can give them except support, which I will do every week. So, I guess I am giving them something, after all...
So, for today, that is my list. If I think of other things to add to it, I will. But I do want to give one thing to everyone taking the time to read this, especially after me not posting for about three months:
Merry Christmas!
Sunday, September 23, 2007
A Matter of Timing
Avengers Classic #4 shipped recently, and it gave me a chance to re-read the issue of The Avengers that brought Captain America back to comics. It had been a while since I had read it, but I have always enjoyed the issue.
Reading it, I was reminded of a couple of things. First, I really like Captain America. And two, what the hell is taking them so long to bring him back or do something about his death? In Avengers #4, the matter of Cap being found by the Sub-Mariner, thrown into the ocean, being found by the Avengers, having them recognize him, revive him, his short battle with them, and then his remembering who he is and what happened to put him in the frigid situation they found him is a dynamic and exciting tale.
Oh, and it takes all of eight-pages.
Yeah, all of eight pages. It would take most writers eight or so issues to tell that story, and honestly, it wouldn't be any better. In fact, I would wager that they would try to make it so "realistic" that it wouldn't be very good at all. I think that one of the biggest problems facing comics today is the idea that they need to be more realistic. That's just not true.
In fact, most of these books that are trying to be "real" are so far gone that they are not even vaguely close to real. They make a mockery of what storytelling is supposed to be, probably due to the fact that most of the people that are writing comics, I would be willing to bet, have never studied story structure or the concept of storytelling. It isn't just a matter of putting together a series of dramatic, shocking events that ultimately are meaningless--the worst of which being the totally unnecessary trend for writers to think that killing a character is the same as adding drama.
So to any writers and would-be writers--and yes, I'm speaking to you Ed Brubaker, Brian Bendis, and many, many others--pick up Classic Avengers #4 and read it. I have trouble believing that many of the people who are currently at the helm of some of the most beloved characters in comics have read all of the early stories. Now I could be completely wrong about that, but that would be even worse to be honest.
Reading it, I was reminded of a couple of things. First, I really like Captain America. And two, what the hell is taking them so long to bring him back or do something about his death? In Avengers #4, the matter of Cap being found by the Sub-Mariner, thrown into the ocean, being found by the Avengers, having them recognize him, revive him, his short battle with them, and then his remembering who he is and what happened to put him in the frigid situation they found him is a dynamic and exciting tale.
Oh, and it takes all of eight-pages.
Yeah, all of eight pages. It would take most writers eight or so issues to tell that story, and honestly, it wouldn't be any better. In fact, I would wager that they would try to make it so "realistic" that it wouldn't be very good at all. I think that one of the biggest problems facing comics today is the idea that they need to be more realistic. That's just not true.
In fact, most of these books that are trying to be "real" are so far gone that they are not even vaguely close to real. They make a mockery of what storytelling is supposed to be, probably due to the fact that most of the people that are writing comics, I would be willing to bet, have never studied story structure or the concept of storytelling. It isn't just a matter of putting together a series of dramatic, shocking events that ultimately are meaningless--the worst of which being the totally unnecessary trend for writers to think that killing a character is the same as adding drama.
So to any writers and would-be writers--and yes, I'm speaking to you Ed Brubaker, Brian Bendis, and many, many others--pick up Classic Avengers #4 and read it. I have trouble believing that many of the people who are currently at the helm of some of the most beloved characters in comics have read all of the early stories. Now I could be completely wrong about that, but that would be even worse to be honest.
Friday, September 21, 2007
...And Knowing Is Half The Battle.
Here we see Wolvering letting us know exactly his goal and its location. Good to know. Good to know.
Monday, September 10, 2007
NFL Day One
Well, the first day of the full-time NFL season is over, and I have already learned one important thing: I have no idea who the heck Heineken is marketing their new product towards.
Have you seen their very odd new ad campaign? The one for the mini-keg of sorts, with the ad featuring what I am guessing is an attractive woman who is made up to appear somewhat android-ish and then she opens up her main body cavity to present a tiny keg of Heineken. She moves with an odd stilted behavior (intentionally), and eventually ends the ad by bringing out two identical androids, thus having three of them standing there posing with beer.
Okay. Why?
Is this supposed to make me want beer? Is this supposed to make me think that Heineken is an advanced brewing company that utelizes only the most amazing of robotic technologies? Are they trying to show us that with the worst lighting and makeup on record they can make an attractive woman look bad on screen?
Well, they succeeded with the last one. I guess that they did accomplish the goal of getting me to know that Heineken has produced some sort of new keg device, but even if I drank beer (which I don't) I wouldn't be interested. And my friends who watched the commercial who DO drink beer were turned off by the ad. The images do anything but sell the product.
Which always makes me wonder how this pitch went. I see two guys with used car salesman smiles looking at a table full of suits and saying, "Okay, this is our best idea. You know how this is a revolutionary, advanced concept? Well, what sells that better than a scary-pale woman with ugly hair dancing poorly? Eh? Eh?" Of course, since the ad was run about...oh, I don't know...a BILLION times today, the suits sat there mouth agape screaming "BRILLIANT!!" It's sad really.
Oh, and my team, The Falcons, lost. Not shocking, but still disappointing. Still, it was week one, and it's too early in the regime of Bobby Petrino and the team to judge them. Especially with all of the off-field incidents of this year.
And at least they aren't scary androids. Wait...maybe that would help them out... Someone in Flowery Branch call Heineken now!!
Have you seen their very odd new ad campaign? The one for the mini-keg of sorts, with the ad featuring what I am guessing is an attractive woman who is made up to appear somewhat android-ish and then she opens up her main body cavity to present a tiny keg of Heineken. She moves with an odd stilted behavior (intentionally), and eventually ends the ad by bringing out two identical androids, thus having three of them standing there posing with beer.
Okay. Why?
Is this supposed to make me want beer? Is this supposed to make me think that Heineken is an advanced brewing company that utelizes only the most amazing of robotic technologies? Are they trying to show us that with the worst lighting and makeup on record they can make an attractive woman look bad on screen?
Well, they succeeded with the last one. I guess that they did accomplish the goal of getting me to know that Heineken has produced some sort of new keg device, but even if I drank beer (which I don't) I wouldn't be interested. And my friends who watched the commercial who DO drink beer were turned off by the ad. The images do anything but sell the product.
Which always makes me wonder how this pitch went. I see two guys with used car salesman smiles looking at a table full of suits and saying, "Okay, this is our best idea. You know how this is a revolutionary, advanced concept? Well, what sells that better than a scary-pale woman with ugly hair dancing poorly? Eh? Eh?" Of course, since the ad was run about...oh, I don't know...a BILLION times today, the suits sat there mouth agape screaming "BRILLIANT!!" It's sad really.
Oh, and my team, The Falcons, lost. Not shocking, but still disappointing. Still, it was week one, and it's too early in the regime of Bobby Petrino and the team to judge them. Especially with all of the off-field incidents of this year.
And at least they aren't scary androids. Wait...maybe that would help them out... Someone in Flowery Branch call Heineken now!!
Monday, August 27, 2007
BGC
Until a few days ago I had no idea that the letters BGC stood for anything particular in the medical community. You don’t hear them bantered about in everday discussion, and you never see a medical commercial on television with women walking around in flowing robes while dancing porpoises sing songs about BGC (then again, those ads for different medications never really seem to be about anything…). But that all changed two weeks ago when diabetes entered my life.
Oh, not me. I’m fine, thanks. My cat, Cecil, though…not so much. He’s diabetic.
I didn’t even know that cats could be diabetic. Again, no commercials or anything. But now I know that they are, and now I know that diabetes is a serious and confusing illness for felines.
Let’s go back a little bit.
A couple of weeks ago I took Cecil, a long-haired gray kitty, to the vet because he had been losing weight and was ravenously hungry all the time. I thought that he might have a stomach issue, or maybe even a problem with his thyroid, both of which I’ve had recent experience with thanks to another cat in the house. So, the vet ran the bloodwork and the results came back as diabetic.
This surprised the vet, as she said that he didn’t show any of the normal problems that led to diabetes in cats, namely being overweight and eating a dry-food diet. Cecil has always been reasonably trim and prefers to eat wet (also known as canned) food. Which is why they ran the test twice, and it came back with the same results both times.
So, I have a diabetic cat. “What’s next?” I asked the vet. Well, the answer was exactly what you would expect: he has to be given insulin injections. But there’s more…
It seems that cats don’t like to be diabetic. And, as cats are as independent as any animal in nature, they also hate to follow rules. So, the rules of diabetes are things that don’t sit well with cats, to the point where they will sometimes just spontaneously stop being diabetic. That’s right: they can cure themselves of diabetes.
I’m not done with Cecil, though. After his diagnosis, we had to take him in for his first blood glucose curve to determine what kind, what amounts, and what frequency he would get insulin. So far, so good.
It didn’t go well. Cecil’s body didn’t seem to like insulin. And he reacted poorly. His blood sugar went way out of whack and we had to take him to the Cobb Emergency Clinic, where he sat for almost five full days, the first four of which were on an insulin drip to get his blood under control. Oh yeah, I forgot to mention that the reason he had to go was due to the fact that he developed ketoacedosis, a malady that causes the body to start consuming muscle mass for sustenance. In other words, his body was eating itself to stay alive.
(I want to take a moment here to send out a huge thanks to both Bell’s Ferry Animal Hospital and the Cobb County Emergency Veterinary Clinic. Bell’s Ferry, and specifically Dr.’s Webb and Temple, took care of Cecil with amazing care to the point where they recognized that he needed care beyond what they could provide there, putting the welfare of the animal first; a wonderful thing to see. And then at the Cobb County Clinic, Cecil was given amazing care to the point that they encouraged us to come in to visit with him every day and to call at any time just to check on him. He looked a little like a science experiment with the tubes that were running in and out of him for a couple of days, but they let us back into the intensive care area where he was, and we sat outside his cage while they dealt with other sick animals. And what’s more, during that entire time, the folks at this very high-pressure Vet office kept a good attitude and a smile on their faces. Both facilities deserve all the praise they can be given.)
Once they got the ketone levels under control, and then got his blood sugar to respond properly to the insulin, they released him to come home. He looked horrible. He had lost so much weight and muscle mass that he literally looked like a cat skeleton with a furry skin pulled tight over it. He had no energy and could barely open his eyes.
I was concerned, to say the least.
But he has spirit, I think. He likes to be home, and he is eating like a champ again, and has put some of his weight back on. Last night he even jumped up and caught a moth that had flown into the room. It was a beautiful thing to see.
So, every day Cecil gets an insulin shot at 8:00 in the morning and 8:00 in the evening. It puts a bit of a strain on what she and I are able to do, seeing as how we have to be awake and at home at both of those times every day, but y’know what? We don’t mind. He’s worth it.
What does the future hold? Who knows. I expect Cecil to throw us a few more curves, but that's what we are expecting, and cats hate that, so it might be smooth sailing. Like I said: who knows? I do know that he will be back at Bell's Ferry next week for another Blood Glucose Curve to see how his body is taking to the insulin. Just looking at him, I know that it is better than the first time they checked.
And that whole BGC thing? It stands for Blood Glucose Concentration. It’s what the docs use to tell how out of whack is his blood sugar. The more you know…
Oh, not me. I’m fine, thanks. My cat, Cecil, though…not so much. He’s diabetic.
I didn’t even know that cats could be diabetic. Again, no commercials or anything. But now I know that they are, and now I know that diabetes is a serious and confusing illness for felines.
Let’s go back a little bit.
A couple of weeks ago I took Cecil, a long-haired gray kitty, to the vet because he had been losing weight and was ravenously hungry all the time. I thought that he might have a stomach issue, or maybe even a problem with his thyroid, both of which I’ve had recent experience with thanks to another cat in the house. So, the vet ran the bloodwork and the results came back as diabetic.
This surprised the vet, as she said that he didn’t show any of the normal problems that led to diabetes in cats, namely being overweight and eating a dry-food diet. Cecil has always been reasonably trim and prefers to eat wet (also known as canned) food. Which is why they ran the test twice, and it came back with the same results both times.
So, I have a diabetic cat. “What’s next?” I asked the vet. Well, the answer was exactly what you would expect: he has to be given insulin injections. But there’s more…
It seems that cats don’t like to be diabetic. And, as cats are as independent as any animal in nature, they also hate to follow rules. So, the rules of diabetes are things that don’t sit well with cats, to the point where they will sometimes just spontaneously stop being diabetic. That’s right: they can cure themselves of diabetes.
I’m not done with Cecil, though. After his diagnosis, we had to take him in for his first blood glucose curve to determine what kind, what amounts, and what frequency he would get insulin. So far, so good.
It didn’t go well. Cecil’s body didn’t seem to like insulin. And he reacted poorly. His blood sugar went way out of whack and we had to take him to the Cobb Emergency Clinic, where he sat for almost five full days, the first four of which were on an insulin drip to get his blood under control. Oh yeah, I forgot to mention that the reason he had to go was due to the fact that he developed ketoacedosis, a malady that causes the body to start consuming muscle mass for sustenance. In other words, his body was eating itself to stay alive.
(I want to take a moment here to send out a huge thanks to both Bell’s Ferry Animal Hospital and the Cobb County Emergency Veterinary Clinic. Bell’s Ferry, and specifically Dr.’s Webb and Temple, took care of Cecil with amazing care to the point where they recognized that he needed care beyond what they could provide there, putting the welfare of the animal first; a wonderful thing to see. And then at the Cobb County Clinic, Cecil was given amazing care to the point that they encouraged us to come in to visit with him every day and to call at any time just to check on him. He looked a little like a science experiment with the tubes that were running in and out of him for a couple of days, but they let us back into the intensive care area where he was, and we sat outside his cage while they dealt with other sick animals. And what’s more, during that entire time, the folks at this very high-pressure Vet office kept a good attitude and a smile on their faces. Both facilities deserve all the praise they can be given.)
Once they got the ketone levels under control, and then got his blood sugar to respond properly to the insulin, they released him to come home. He looked horrible. He had lost so much weight and muscle mass that he literally looked like a cat skeleton with a furry skin pulled tight over it. He had no energy and could barely open his eyes.
I was concerned, to say the least.
But he has spirit, I think. He likes to be home, and he is eating like a champ again, and has put some of his weight back on. Last night he even jumped up and caught a moth that had flown into the room. It was a beautiful thing to see.
So, every day Cecil gets an insulin shot at 8:00 in the morning and 8:00 in the evening. It puts a bit of a strain on what she and I are able to do, seeing as how we have to be awake and at home at both of those times every day, but y’know what? We don’t mind. He’s worth it.
What does the future hold? Who knows. I expect Cecil to throw us a few more curves, but that's what we are expecting, and cats hate that, so it might be smooth sailing. Like I said: who knows? I do know that he will be back at Bell's Ferry next week for another Blood Glucose Curve to see how his body is taking to the insulin. Just looking at him, I know that it is better than the first time they checked.
And that whole BGC thing? It stands for Blood Glucose Concentration. It’s what the docs use to tell how out of whack is his blood sugar. The more you know…
Saturday, July 28, 2007
The Saavy Shopper
I have been going about things all wrong.
Normally, I am the type of person who will research what they want to purchase, search around for the best price or deal on the decided product, and then make my purchase. And normally, I do these things either through the magic of the internet or at a store that specializes in such product. But why? Why am I going to all that trouble, when clearly there is a superior method.
I should just buy what they advertise on streetcorners.
That's right! The time-honored practice of advertising goods and services at a bust intersection is clearly what I should use to make my buying decisions! After all, for as long as I can remember in my forty-plus years I've been seeing things advertised by the marketing geniuses that have gone to all the trouble to put a sign in the dirt. Sometimes, they don't even put them in the dirt, but hire professionals to stand at the corner with a sign looking dapper and professional in order to inspire us to come into their place of business to spend copious amounts of money.
Oh, and it isn't just retail products that you can buy. Oh no!
You can get daycare service for your children, thus insuring nothing but the finest of upbringing for the fruit of your loins (not to be confused with the Fruit of the Looms, which would be at one of the other places advertised).
You can get healthcare services and advise. Worried about your health? So are the countless number of caring individuals that have gone to great lengths to get you to call their clearly posted phone number.
And housing? Well, what type of housing ISN'T advertised by the side of the road? And I'm not talking directions to a subdivision, either. I'm talking full-on home loans and direct offers to purchase homes for your ease of mind.
Not sure what you want to buy? Not a problem! Sometimes the people who put out these signs aren't clear on what they want to sell! Just look for a vague name and/or title with a phone number attached to it, and you will get that surprise shopping experience that you've been dreaming about.
In fact, I don't even know why I'm bothering to write this. If I want to get something out there that people will really notice, I need to break out my cardboard and markers--or if I'm feeling really daring, go to my local Kinko's to get something professionally created--and let the world know.
Viva Le Advertising Revolution!!
Normally, I am the type of person who will research what they want to purchase, search around for the best price or deal on the decided product, and then make my purchase. And normally, I do these things either through the magic of the internet or at a store that specializes in such product. But why? Why am I going to all that trouble, when clearly there is a superior method.
I should just buy what they advertise on streetcorners.
That's right! The time-honored practice of advertising goods and services at a bust intersection is clearly what I should use to make my buying decisions! After all, for as long as I can remember in my forty-plus years I've been seeing things advertised by the marketing geniuses that have gone to all the trouble to put a sign in the dirt. Sometimes, they don't even put them in the dirt, but hire professionals to stand at the corner with a sign looking dapper and professional in order to inspire us to come into their place of business to spend copious amounts of money.
Oh, and it isn't just retail products that you can buy. Oh no!
You can get daycare service for your children, thus insuring nothing but the finest of upbringing for the fruit of your loins (not to be confused with the Fruit of the Looms, which would be at one of the other places advertised).
You can get healthcare services and advise. Worried about your health? So are the countless number of caring individuals that have gone to great lengths to get you to call their clearly posted phone number.
And housing? Well, what type of housing ISN'T advertised by the side of the road? And I'm not talking directions to a subdivision, either. I'm talking full-on home loans and direct offers to purchase homes for your ease of mind.
Not sure what you want to buy? Not a problem! Sometimes the people who put out these signs aren't clear on what they want to sell! Just look for a vague name and/or title with a phone number attached to it, and you will get that surprise shopping experience that you've been dreaming about.
In fact, I don't even know why I'm bothering to write this. If I want to get something out there that people will really notice, I need to break out my cardboard and markers--or if I'm feeling really daring, go to my local Kinko's to get something professionally created--and let the world know.
Viva Le Advertising Revolution!!
Thursday, July 19, 2007
On Birds and Dogs
Let’s get this stated up front: I am an Atlanta Falcons fan. Have been for years. Years that pre-date the turn of the century.
Another thing up front: I like dogs. They are cute and fun to play with, and can be great companions.
Right now, as an Atlanta Falcons fan, I am very, very concerned. And yes, it all stems from Michael Vick.
Again, let’s get this out front: what Mike Vick is accused of doing is deplorable. It is inhumane and unfathomable by myself. And, as a Falcon’s fan, I am going to be very upset if he misses any games (as I am guessing that he will—if not all of them). And while I have enjoyed watching him on the field, and have always felt that when he was out there the Falcons had a better chance of winning, I am not a Mike Vick fan. I am an Atlanta Falcons fan. I will cheer for the team no matter who is playing quarterback.
Now, with all that said, the idiotic actions that occurred in Virginia that have led to an indictment against Michael Vick may be the worst thing that has happened to a professional sports franchise in my lifetime.
Let me explain.
It is a long-standing, non-written statement in Hollywood that you can kill as many people as you want in a movie, but you should never, ever kill a dog on screen. It turns the crowd against the film in a heartbeat.
That is because, as a species, we can forgive someone for killing, maiming, or otherwise harming an adult human. But killing a dog? That’s wrong. That’s unforgivable. That is the type of thing that creates animosity on an amazing level.
With that in mind, the accusations against Mike Vick not only reflect on him as a person, but ultimately on the Atlanta Falcons as an organization. Why? Because PETA can’t picket Mike Vick’s house and get the attention that they will if they picket the Georgia Dome. Because, whether or not Mike Vick is actually with the team this year, fans in other cities won’t get a chance to target Vick by holding up signs that condemn the team without the Falcons being there. The Falcons and their organization will be the target of reprisal for this indictment.
Now, let’s say that somehow Mike Vick gets acquitted. He is found not-guilty by a jury of his peers. What then?
Not much different from what will happen than if he is found guilty, in regards to the Falcons as a team. The team will pay the price either way—though it would be, undoubtedly, a more severe response if he is found guilty. But if he is found innocent, and he is on the field, there are going to be those that feel they got the verdict wrong. That he is guilty, and they will make their piece known. They will picket the games, they will raise their signs, and…well, who knows how bad they might get?
So, maybe the Falcons need to let Mike Vick go now?
It’s not that simple. Aside from the financial hit the team would take due to the way that the NFL structures payroll and cap limitations, until he is picked up by another team (an unlikely scenario at this time) he will still be associated with the Falcons. And every single game, whether at home or on the road, will carry the shadow of dog fighting over it. Every game will have the picketers, the signs, and the cat calls towards the team with or without Mike there. Whether he is on the team or not.
Simply put, there is no good that can come of this. This is a shadow that will haunt the team for years, and will cause more problems than anything else that has ever happened to the team.
And that is simply due to the fact that humans have a place for dogs that does, in fact, sit above the life of a human. There have been plenty of incidents against humans that have plagued NFL players, and they have all been forgiven. But none of them has ever had anything against a dog—at least not on this scale—until now.
Whether he is innocent or guilty, the actions or lack thereof by Michael Vick have cast a bleak shadow over the Atlanta Falcons for the foreseeable future.
And speaking as a person who once stood up and cheered when he made some of the amazing plays that only an athlete of his caliber could, I am sad today. I am sad that, due to the stupid actions of one person, my team is suffering from something that they don’t deserve.
My team, the Atlanta Falcons, have a black eye. And they didn’t even throw a punch.
Another thing up front: I like dogs. They are cute and fun to play with, and can be great companions.
Right now, as an Atlanta Falcons fan, I am very, very concerned. And yes, it all stems from Michael Vick.
Again, let’s get this out front: what Mike Vick is accused of doing is deplorable. It is inhumane and unfathomable by myself. And, as a Falcon’s fan, I am going to be very upset if he misses any games (as I am guessing that he will—if not all of them). And while I have enjoyed watching him on the field, and have always felt that when he was out there the Falcons had a better chance of winning, I am not a Mike Vick fan. I am an Atlanta Falcons fan. I will cheer for the team no matter who is playing quarterback.
Now, with all that said, the idiotic actions that occurred in Virginia that have led to an indictment against Michael Vick may be the worst thing that has happened to a professional sports franchise in my lifetime.
Let me explain.
It is a long-standing, non-written statement in Hollywood that you can kill as many people as you want in a movie, but you should never, ever kill a dog on screen. It turns the crowd against the film in a heartbeat.
That is because, as a species, we can forgive someone for killing, maiming, or otherwise harming an adult human. But killing a dog? That’s wrong. That’s unforgivable. That is the type of thing that creates animosity on an amazing level.
With that in mind, the accusations against Mike Vick not only reflect on him as a person, but ultimately on the Atlanta Falcons as an organization. Why? Because PETA can’t picket Mike Vick’s house and get the attention that they will if they picket the Georgia Dome. Because, whether or not Mike Vick is actually with the team this year, fans in other cities won’t get a chance to target Vick by holding up signs that condemn the team without the Falcons being there. The Falcons and their organization will be the target of reprisal for this indictment.
Now, let’s say that somehow Mike Vick gets acquitted. He is found not-guilty by a jury of his peers. What then?
Not much different from what will happen than if he is found guilty, in regards to the Falcons as a team. The team will pay the price either way—though it would be, undoubtedly, a more severe response if he is found guilty. But if he is found innocent, and he is on the field, there are going to be those that feel they got the verdict wrong. That he is guilty, and they will make their piece known. They will picket the games, they will raise their signs, and…well, who knows how bad they might get?
So, maybe the Falcons need to let Mike Vick go now?
It’s not that simple. Aside from the financial hit the team would take due to the way that the NFL structures payroll and cap limitations, until he is picked up by another team (an unlikely scenario at this time) he will still be associated with the Falcons. And every single game, whether at home or on the road, will carry the shadow of dog fighting over it. Every game will have the picketers, the signs, and the cat calls towards the team with or without Mike there. Whether he is on the team or not.
Simply put, there is no good that can come of this. This is a shadow that will haunt the team for years, and will cause more problems than anything else that has ever happened to the team.
And that is simply due to the fact that humans have a place for dogs that does, in fact, sit above the life of a human. There have been plenty of incidents against humans that have plagued NFL players, and they have all been forgiven. But none of them has ever had anything against a dog—at least not on this scale—until now.
Whether he is innocent or guilty, the actions or lack thereof by Michael Vick have cast a bleak shadow over the Atlanta Falcons for the foreseeable future.
And speaking as a person who once stood up and cheered when he made some of the amazing plays that only an athlete of his caliber could, I am sad today. I am sad that, due to the stupid actions of one person, my team is suffering from something that they don’t deserve.
My team, the Atlanta Falcons, have a black eye. And they didn’t even throw a punch.
Thursday, July 12, 2007
Tuesday, July 03, 2007
In Praise of Bad
I have a bad habit. Or rather, I have a habit of bad. Namely, I have a bad habit of watching bad movies. And let's make no mistake, I KNOW that some of the movies that I watch are bad. Very, very bad.
But there is something about those gawd-awful films that brings me back again and again. I take great delight in watching wretched acting and directing combine with a bad idea to become something special. It even predates my love of Mystery Science Theatre 3000 (one of the greatest television series in history, if you ask me), as I would drag my friends to the theatre to watch horrible films.
Now that isn't to say that I ONLY like bad films. Not even close. I love a well made, well acted, skillfully written film. I have an extensive DVD collection, and--with the exception of probably the Godzilla collection--they are all quality films in my mind.
So, if I'm not watching them on DVD where do I get the bad films that I enjoy? Why, from the Sci-Fi Channel, of course! Every Saturday night the Sci-Fi channel airs a new masterpiece of drek that keeps me entertained in it's amazing badness. Well, most of the time. Sometimes they air quality movies, and then sometimes...well, sometimes there are moments like the one I have to talk about.
A couple of weeks ago the Sci-Fi Channel debuted a film that they called Stan Lee's Harpies. Um...oh my gawd. I couldn't finish it. It was too bad. It was so bad that I didn't know what to mock. I didn't know where to laugh and where to just sit slack-jawed in shock. It was a movie so bad that it made the bad movies they show seem...good. The acting was deplorable. The directing was amaturish, at best. But it was really the writing that took this film to new lowes. The writing...no, wait, I have respect for writers; the word-assembler that constructed this "story" did an exceptional job of taking every hack premise and phrase and bringing them to a new low.
I really don't have a joke to make about it. Honestly, the movie was just that bad.
But I haven't given up hope. I know that somewhere out there Kevin Van Hook is working on another movie that will bring a smile to my face--just not in the way that he was hoping. But I'm a fan of Kevin's. I've seen The Fallen Ones probably six or seven times. And each time it gets sillier and more inane. And that's just fine for me.
But there is something about those gawd-awful films that brings me back again and again. I take great delight in watching wretched acting and directing combine with a bad idea to become something special. It even predates my love of Mystery Science Theatre 3000 (one of the greatest television series in history, if you ask me), as I would drag my friends to the theatre to watch horrible films.
Now that isn't to say that I ONLY like bad films. Not even close. I love a well made, well acted, skillfully written film. I have an extensive DVD collection, and--with the exception of probably the Godzilla collection--they are all quality films in my mind.
So, if I'm not watching them on DVD where do I get the bad films that I enjoy? Why, from the Sci-Fi Channel, of course! Every Saturday night the Sci-Fi channel airs a new masterpiece of drek that keeps me entertained in it's amazing badness. Well, most of the time. Sometimes they air quality movies, and then sometimes...well, sometimes there are moments like the one I have to talk about.
A couple of weeks ago the Sci-Fi Channel debuted a film that they called Stan Lee's Harpies. Um...oh my gawd. I couldn't finish it. It was too bad. It was so bad that I didn't know what to mock. I didn't know where to laugh and where to just sit slack-jawed in shock. It was a movie so bad that it made the bad movies they show seem...good. The acting was deplorable. The directing was amaturish, at best. But it was really the writing that took this film to new lowes. The writing...no, wait, I have respect for writers; the word-assembler that constructed this "story" did an exceptional job of taking every hack premise and phrase and bringing them to a new low.
I really don't have a joke to make about it. Honestly, the movie was just that bad.
But I haven't given up hope. I know that somewhere out there Kevin Van Hook is working on another movie that will bring a smile to my face--just not in the way that he was hoping. But I'm a fan of Kevin's. I've seen The Fallen Ones probably six or seven times. And each time it gets sillier and more inane. And that's just fine for me.
Sunday, June 24, 2007
A Rose...
I live less than a mile from The Transfiguration Catholic Church--or as I like to call it, The Transmogrification Church. On their marquee at the moment is their latest welcome aboard message for the ever-changing Priest club. (A Priest that I know once told me that they like to change out the staff about every year--I guess to keep God guessing who's going to be talking.)
In any case, the new marquee welcomes in their latest: Father Arcangel.
Oh yeah. That's a Priest name! It did make me wonder if he changed his name when he decided to enter the Seminary, or if it was one of those "born-to-be" situations. Kinda like naming a kid Jeeves, knowing that he only has the option to be a butler at that point.
What's more, with a name like that he's set up to go beyond the pulpit, and get really into the action. Think about it: Father Arcangel, Private Eye. Or maybe he's a movie-style action hero, fighting the good fight in the name of the Catholic Church. Kinda like Indiana Jones, but with a more Pope-influenced mission to his adventures.
Or he could be a super-hero in his spare time! Holy fill-in-the-blank wouldn't even seem vaguely out of place. And with that name, he could be right out of the Silver or Golden Age. Jack Kirby could have fit Father Arcangel into his Fourth World stuff and not even hiccupped.
It is also possible that the obvious has happened. God has sent an angel down to lead his flock at this particular church. Of course, you would think that God would be a little more creative in a name, but hey, who am I to judge. If that's the case, though, I do expect some of my property rates to go up, what with the proximity to angelic proof and what.
I would like to further the efforts of The Transmogrification Church, and extend a hearty hand of welcome to Father Arcangel. No matter what the scenario that brought this magnificently named, true white-collar worker into our midst, just knowing that I have a would-be action superstar/private eye/ heavenly messenger so close to my home will help me sleep a little better tonight.
So to you, Father Arcangel: Mazel Tov.
In any case, the new marquee welcomes in their latest: Father Arcangel.
Oh yeah. That's a Priest name! It did make me wonder if he changed his name when he decided to enter the Seminary, or if it was one of those "born-to-be" situations. Kinda like naming a kid Jeeves, knowing that he only has the option to be a butler at that point.
What's more, with a name like that he's set up to go beyond the pulpit, and get really into the action. Think about it: Father Arcangel, Private Eye. Or maybe he's a movie-style action hero, fighting the good fight in the name of the Catholic Church. Kinda like Indiana Jones, but with a more Pope-influenced mission to his adventures.
Or he could be a super-hero in his spare time! Holy fill-in-the-blank wouldn't even seem vaguely out of place. And with that name, he could be right out of the Silver or Golden Age. Jack Kirby could have fit Father Arcangel into his Fourth World stuff and not even hiccupped.
It is also possible that the obvious has happened. God has sent an angel down to lead his flock at this particular church. Of course, you would think that God would be a little more creative in a name, but hey, who am I to judge. If that's the case, though, I do expect some of my property rates to go up, what with the proximity to angelic proof and what.
I would like to further the efforts of The Transmogrification Church, and extend a hearty hand of welcome to Father Arcangel. No matter what the scenario that brought this magnificently named, true white-collar worker into our midst, just knowing that I have a would-be action superstar/private eye/ heavenly messenger so close to my home will help me sleep a little better tonight.
So to you, Father Arcangel: Mazel Tov.
Monday, June 18, 2007
Movie Stuff
I saw Fantastic Four: Rise of the Silver Surfer today. Like most of the people that I know, I enjoyed it. I liked it at least as much as the first one, and possibly a little bit more. It's always hard to tell that sort of thing right as you walk out of a movie; I feel I can judge where it sits in scope a few weeks from now as I've let it digest in my memory.
The changes that they made to the story were perfectly understandable, and I feel that the movie overall had a very solid pace and structure to it. Not too many pitfalls, and the ones that were there didn't drag me out of the movie (unlike any of the "blockbuster" films that have been released to date this year). After talking to my friend Cliff, he cited that he thought the new FF film was an A-Class B-movie, unlike several B-Class A-Movies that are out, such as Spider-Man 3 (a film that I didn't hate, but it didn't live up to the first two--not by a long shot).
But that's not really what I wanted to talk about...
You might have noticed a video-presentation that happens in front of movies these days. It's little more than ads for upcoming films, television series, or whatever any advertisers pay to show on the screen before a movie. The productions are slick, and the ads are as innocuous as anything you would see on TV, and just as easy to ignore. (Though on a quick side-note, I will say that between the trailers, movie ads, and voluminous television ads, I don't think that I'm going to go see Evan Almighty. I was GOING to, because I like Steve Carell, but at this point I don't think that there is anything left to be revealed in the film. I'll wait for DVD or TV.)
One of the things that has bugged me about one of those video presentations is simply this: the title. I don't know if you have it in your part of the world, but here we have one called The 20-wenty. Yeah, you read right. The 20-wenty. This trend in graphic design bugs me. Sure, I understand that the name of the piece is "The Twenty" in the minds of the people that made it, but that isn't what it says. It clearly has the number "20" followed by the letters w-e-n-t-y. The 20-wenty.
It reminds me that we are living in an era where people can't spell because they "text" to many messages. They only know shorthand. And now those people have moved into the professional field, and they are bringing their habits with them. It's not a new trend, and one that is sure to fade--I hope and pray--over time, but for right now it's the trend, and it's one that I could live without. I hope that the whole "texting" craze dies soon, too. I hate watching people type letters that mean words during a movie. It just seems...rude.
Guess I'm old, but all those thoughts just rambled through my mind today while sitting in a movie theater with friends.
LOL
...aw damn...
The changes that they made to the story were perfectly understandable, and I feel that the movie overall had a very solid pace and structure to it. Not too many pitfalls, and the ones that were there didn't drag me out of the movie (unlike any of the "blockbuster" films that have been released to date this year). After talking to my friend Cliff, he cited that he thought the new FF film was an A-Class B-movie, unlike several B-Class A-Movies that are out, such as Spider-Man 3 (a film that I didn't hate, but it didn't live up to the first two--not by a long shot).
But that's not really what I wanted to talk about...
You might have noticed a video-presentation that happens in front of movies these days. It's little more than ads for upcoming films, television series, or whatever any advertisers pay to show on the screen before a movie. The productions are slick, and the ads are as innocuous as anything you would see on TV, and just as easy to ignore. (Though on a quick side-note, I will say that between the trailers, movie ads, and voluminous television ads, I don't think that I'm going to go see Evan Almighty. I was GOING to, because I like Steve Carell, but at this point I don't think that there is anything left to be revealed in the film. I'll wait for DVD or TV.)
One of the things that has bugged me about one of those video presentations is simply this: the title. I don't know if you have it in your part of the world, but here we have one called The 20-wenty. Yeah, you read right. The 20-wenty. This trend in graphic design bugs me. Sure, I understand that the name of the piece is "The Twenty" in the minds of the people that made it, but that isn't what it says. It clearly has the number "20" followed by the letters w-e-n-t-y. The 20-wenty.
It reminds me that we are living in an era where people can't spell because they "text" to many messages. They only know shorthand. And now those people have moved into the professional field, and they are bringing their habits with them. It's not a new trend, and one that is sure to fade--I hope and pray--over time, but for right now it's the trend, and it's one that I could live without. I hope that the whole "texting" craze dies soon, too. I hate watching people type letters that mean words during a movie. It just seems...rude.
Guess I'm old, but all those thoughts just rambled through my mind today while sitting in a movie theater with friends.
LOL
...aw damn...
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