Astute readers may notice that despite my protests to the contrary, participation has decreased significantly over the past six months. Productivity is at an all-time low. While this directly corresponds to real life class changes, including prestige classes and grind burnout, it can't be denied that our blog is perilously close to entering that predictable "Sorry we haven't posted anything in two months" stage.
I blame myself. My dictatorial instincts have recently been focused elsewhere, and I've been suffering a crisis of conscience over whether or not content should be free. In general, I agree that free content is nice, as long as the providers aren't self-righteous about it. But ideally, I think their podcasts, blogs, v-logs, and YouTube stunts should be ancillary to work they are actually paid for. Gloating over the death of a magazine that would pay you for the same content you give away for free is the sort of thing that, hypothetically, might classify your podcast as no longer tolerable. And it upsets me greatly that the guys from LOSTcasts put so much thought into their work while TV reporters at the New York and LA Times are paid not to.
But I digress, and use "I" more than I'd like. In the interest of keeping our blog alive for at least a full year, allow me to suggest some changes to for our review formula. Specifically, how we go about book reviews.
A book-a-week reader as a student, I couldn't imagine a life where time spent reading books would become a luxury. But here I am. As a fully-employed reader, writer, and gamer, I currently view books according to three criteria:
- Time: Is it worth the time spent to read/listen to a book?
- Money: Is it worth the cost of the reviewed format of the title (hardback/audiobook/trade/etc.)?
- Wait: Is it worth the wait to get it at the library or for a different format?
Note that these are the same criteria I use to judge anything supposedly entertaining or enlightening, from Battlestar to Buddhism.
As a hibernating aspiring novelist myself, I hesitate to suggest that a book is not worth the time spent reading it (you can learn something from any book, especially the bad ones). But there's no reason we should treat books with kid gloves when we're so harsh with more collaborative media like television, movies, games, and porn. Yes, it's sad for Christopher Pike if he spends years (benefit of the doubt) on his latest adult novel, only for some interlard to dismiss it as a waste of your time. But it's significantly more cruel to bash BSG or Sakura Tales, something we do often. It's probably not Apollo's fault that Starbuck isn't dead, and Mika Tan puts a lot more on the line than Christopher Pike. His heart may be on the page, but you won't recognize his face at the mall.
I'm not advocating that we descend to 5-sentence book reviews, but I think if we keep time, money, and wait in mind, it might be less daunting to get book reviews up on a regular basis. We need something to write about until television comes back. And our 8 readers might appreciate suggestions on what else they could be reading when I get passive-aggressive and refuse to post.
Unlike Pulitzer-Prize winning reviewer Stephen Hunter, I still get scared of oven timers. I can deal with this in real life. Whenever I visit a friend's house, the first thing I check up on is to make sure their oven timer is safely broken. It always is, so my visit can continue with only a mild sense of unease. But there's no such thing as a broken oven timer in a movie. The hero is walking in a dimly-lit house, the killer is nowhere to be seen... and then, the klaxon of fear rings throughout the kitchen, letting one and all know that the cinnamon rolls are ready for consumption. Meanwhile, I've curled up into a ball, and have started to quietly sob into my knees.
But I've compensated in other ways. For example, a ghost that has static, fuzz, bad horizontal control, or in any other way looks like it should be communicating to Lord Vader does nothing to me. People holding their heads while the room spins only brings me fond memories of the best episode of Quantum Leap ever. Also, I'm not afraid of Clint Howard.
Which brings me to 1408. It's Steven King's best story in a long time, and now it's back in PG-13 form. This means that going in, you already know that there will be no bleeding nipples. However, you might not know that the theatre will be packed with a crowd of kids. These are the same kids who thought Stay Alive was awesome, and that those horror films that wanted to be clever actually were. They will talk; you will hate.
If you can get past that, the film's probably good. Admittedly, it doesn't all work. There aren't oven timers, but the film does believe that television ghosts and The Carpenters are scarier than they really are. As it progresses, the film can never quite figure out if it's going for subtle chills, or if it wants to press the Poltergeist SFX Attack button. And while "This is Nine," is in the film, it just isn't the same. Despite those gripes, it's been a long while since I've emerged that theoretically happy after seeing a movie. There were plenty of moments I think I would have loved, if I hadn't been so busy plotting ways to kill the audience. More importantly, John Cusack's character is actually a man of normal intelligence. For a horror movie, that means that he's got a fifth-level brain, and that's a beautiful thing. Finally, novice actor Benny Urquidez is utterly convincing in his role of hammer-swinging Clint Howard. Even if he isn't the least bit terrifying.
Glasses were created by Man
They evolved
They became progressive and photochromic
There are many brands
After 5 years, I decided it was time to get a new pair of glasses. It's not that I didn't have the insurance all the while, or that I'm reluctant to schedule regular doctor's visits. With the exception of a brief period after getting my two front teeth replaced with platinum rims, I've never even postponed a dental checkup. But optometrists make me nervous. Chalk it up to the pressure...
OPTOMETRIST: Which is better 1 or 2?
NARRAPTOR: 2.
OPT: 2 or 3?
NAR: 3.
OPT: 3 or 4?
NAR: Sorry. Again?
OPT: 3 or 4?
NAR: One more time.
OPT: [sigh]
NAR: Um, 3 is fine. I think.
OPT: 3 or 4?
NAR: 4.
OPT: Okay, now 1 or 2.
NAR: I'm not sure.
OPT: Not sure? Either one is better than the other or there's no change. And stop crying!
NAR: But the light hurts my eyes.
OPT: Look to the left of my ear. LOOK TO THE LEFT OF MY EAR!
...and a bad childhood experience that required me to pass a certain test before they'd consider the option of contact lenses.
Then there's the additional stress of trying on new frames. Not only can't you see how they look from six inches away, but by the time you're handed a "Finding the Right Eyewear" pamphlet, your eyes are dilated and you can't read. You roam the racks, hoping the next frames you pick up aren't on the wrong side of the unisex spectrum. Or that they're not completely wrong for you but no one will say so. You don't want to be the guy you saw leaving the store minutes earlier trying to convince himself that he made the right blind guess.
GUY: I can't see and need an honest opinion. How do these look?
SALES REP 1: It's good. You look like that comedian. Fellow sales associate, what do you think?
SALES REP 2: It's a look.
GUY: It is a look.
SALES REP 1: Like Drew Carrey.
GUY: What do you think, female acquaintance? Will this hinder my game?
FEMALE ACQUAINTANCE: Um...
GUY: It's a look.
FEMALE ACQUAINTANCE: It sure is.
Teh Interweb to the rescue. Not only can you take a Frame Personality Test before you arrive for your exam, but Google and Wikipedia offer what hairdressers have provided customers for years: the opportunity to style yourself after people you see in movies and on TV. There's no People (Who Wear Glasses) magazine for your optometrist to leave in the lobby. But there is Google Images! Forget oval versus square-face scenarios. Are you an HRG or a Hiro?
My FPT results were somewhat accurate, although the test questions did not appear to be for me. I don't know enough about shoes to say that I have a style; if I was a car, I'd either be a Japanese compact with good mileage or something that got points for running over pedestrians and causing awesome damage combos; and if I'm at a social event, I'm either A) thinking about when I can leave or B) the only person in my group that's happy to be there. The only answer I felt confident about was whether I was male or female.
I did the best I could with the multiple choices I was given. But it would have been easier just to point to a picture of Baltar.
I can see at least a dozen identical signs littering the downtown shops, just on my way to the pancake house.
"SAVE CORNFEST!"
Mysterious. Austere. Neon Yellow. These signs sum up the majesty and wonder that is Cornfest. This signs lead me to hope that this year, Cornfest will use a Ferris Bueller's Day Off theme. It should be possible, even for a small town that derives all of its profits from corn and college students. Perhaps the organizers can't afford Matthew Broderick, but I understand that Ben Stein has been back on the work-for-hire bandwagon ever since some damn kids won all his money. And wherever there is lifeforce to be taken, Jeffery Jones will be lurking nearby.
Sssssnap.
I moved to this town just in time to see the previous cornfest. That year, the organizers had apparently decided to try out a theme based around "Five cover bands and the guys who sang Eye Of The Tiger. Disappointingly, there was very little corn involved in the festivities. You could go to a trailer, and get a free ear of corn, unless you opted to pay the fifty cents to get gourmet spices rubbed onto the corn by a team of eunuch maizemasters. But everywhere else, the festivivalgoers were allowed to travel in a corn-free world.
It's to be expected, I suppose. I used to live in a town that had a "Ham And Yam" festival. The first year, there were yam-craftsmanship contests, Ham cook-offs, and hundreds of booths that could inform a person about how many tubers it would take to equal one Cornish Hen. And so the festival continued, for a few years. But time went on, and it seemed much more economical to replace some of the meat fact kiosks with more carny games. Soon shopkeepers began to offer nontraditional items, like pizza and fried dough. Eventually, the festival slunk away from the main downtown streets, abandoning any pretense of being an event worthy of destroying traffic patterns for an entire city.
I think it was then that they got rid of the Wicker Ham. I've never returned since... I've heard that things have improved, but my loyalty still lays with the old pagan festivities of the mid-eighties.
Here, I am surrounded by summer festivals. Each town has raised its banner, trumpeting to all that there is a reason it exists, beyond being a cheaper suburb of the capital city. Many of these towns are lying. Many know that they are lying, but they also know that a city identity has to start somewhere, so why the hell not with a Pumpkin Festival?
And then there's Cornfest. Which needs to be saved from... something.
I'll let you know if I find out anything interesting.
And the rush is on, as bloggers, newspaper columnists, entertainment personalities, and graduate students race to comment on The Sopranos series finale.
As a die-hard Lost fan, I've generally left The Sopranos alone. They're both smart shows with demanding audiences, though each caters to different tastes. One is a an epic mystery told through chapters that sometimes play like character studies. The other is a series of character studies told through one-act plays. Personally, I hate plays, because they don't normally have a budget for polar bears, sharks, and smoke monsters, and if they do, singing is usually involved. But Sopranos fans have had to put up with the same short-sighted arguments that Lost viewers have, like "Why don't you kill more/less?" So I gave them a pass in the hopes that those who write for major newspapers would stop bitching about Lost.
My bad.
The primary defense for the drawn-out final season of The Sopranos (it started in March 2006) was: "It's like real life! Isn't it great how this show defies our expectations by not following up on what happened in previous episodes? A television series where loose ends are never tied up or investigated? Brilliant!" (Note that these apologist praises are the same complaints that dogged Lost throughout its third season until the finale.) That's all fine and good if you really believe that, but to me, the direction The Sopranos took in the long run led to three possibilities:
1) Lazy writing on par with Star Trek and The X-Files in terms of disinterest in continuity
2) Pretentiousness unparalleled by any HBO series this side of Cathouse
3) David Chase, creator of The Sopranos, is a total dick
I don't know whether I should be pissed or admire the fact that after watching the series finale, I've come to conclusion number three. David Chase hates you so much for liking to watch people get whacked that he turned The Show That Changed Television into a shaggy-dog story.
No doubt, the finale of The Sopranos is the best worst episode of television ever. It has everything long-term viewers have been dying for, most notably an unexpected but humorous execution. It remembers that the show has an ensemble cast and it ends on a family dinner scene. And there's no denying the tension of the final setup. Tony and his family arriving one by one at the restaurant. Journey playing on the jukebox. The suspicious look of the guy who goes into the men's room (obvious Godfather reference!). The repeated cuts to Meadow trying to parallel park her car before she rushes across the street to the restaurant. The door opens and then--
Black.
Black like it looks like you cable went out black.
For long enough to convince you that your cable actually went out.
And then credits.
Congratulations, David Chase. You've found a way to be the biggest asshole in the history of television and make everyone praise you for it. I salute you, you arrogant bastard.
I had forgotten that not every German game featured four rules and a set of cheerfully colored wooden blocks to go with them. Luckily, someone was kind enough to try and teach me how to play Skat, and my eyes are again open to the wonders and terrors of 19th century gaming.
You don't need to look at the rules. Just take my word that there are a lot of them, they aren't very intuitive, and people are forced to say "Scheider."
Still, it could be worse. I understand that if you fold on a six card flush in Dragon Poker, you have to vanish into a haze of alcoholism for a minimum of five years, or forfeit the match.
Another game I'm trying to play is Odin Sphere for the PS2. The storyline is based on Wagner's Ring Cycle, as told by people who know as little about it as I do. I could use Wikipedia to look up whether or not there really was an alien soul-forge in the original opera, but I might just be better off not knowing.
Reviewers don't know quite how to explain it, which is why they make statements referring to how it has the smooth and seamless animation style of Terry Gilliam. Each one will mention a single flaw that mars Odin Sphere's gameplay, but they can't agree what it is. Is it the crippling slowdown that hits whenever the Queen Of The Dead uses her attack womb? Is it the recycled backgrounds? Or is it the fact that once you complete the first character's part of the game, you start over as a bunny-man who is fighting the exact same enemies, but in a different order?
I think it was the third recycled boss fight that may have broken me. That, and the idea of fighting General Brigan three more times before the game is over.
For no raison, I am posting 10 songs that make me happy and one bonus track.
Baby Got Back (as made beautiful by Jonathan Coulton)
Thank God I'm Pretty (Emilie Autumn)
Enjoy Yourself (Lee Press-On and the Nails)
I Hate Your Blog (MC Frontalot)
Hard Rock Hallelujah (Lordi)
On the Outside (Oingo Boingo)
The Sexy Data Tango (Voltaire)
Stand Up (Stromkern)
The Waffle Song (from Mystery Science Theater 3000)
Welcome Back (The Phenomenauts)
BONUS: Coming Out For Christmas (Voltaire)
I'm sure more lyrics and samples are available somewhere for the enterprising browser.
