Christmas 2008

Wednesday

Got off work at noon. Plenty of time to pack and straighten up the apartment before getting out of Dodge. Stopped by Mary's to drop off a key so they could feed Chuckles while I was away.

Went to my grandmother's house for the traditional Christmas Eve dinner and gift exchange. My uncle Daryl was absent, which kinda sucked because I had so many things to bug him about. The new car, the Obama sticker on the new car, the fact that I'm still smoking, etc. I was preparing myself for a verbal throwdown with him, but alas, no.

I had a great time with the extended family. My second cousin Zachary relied on me to remove his gifts from the packaging. On a side note, thank you so much, shoplifters, for making manufacturers revamp their packaging to the point that a remote control car can't be freed without a blowtorch.

After a few rounds of dominoes after presents, I continued the last leg of my journey to Little Rock and got to the folk's house around midnight.

Thursday

We got up- at the crack of 10:30, loaded up the car and headed to the step-grandparents' house for the second Christmas dinner of the season. It's been a while since I've gotten car-sick, and their steep-hillside house made the last leg of that trip all the more fun. Nice to get my bearings just to succumb to vertigo.

We had a big dinner that couldn't be beat, and went in to open presents. For some reason, my brother and his family brought my presents only to tell me that they couldn't be opened until Saturday. I at least got my Monty Python desk calendar open before being informed of this.

On the trip back, I had the foresight to take Dramamine before leaving, which assured the trip would last mere minutes for me because I passed out hard as soon as we got back to the Interstate.

Back at the folks' house, I continued my own yearly tradition of watching the least Christmas-y movie on Christmas night. Last year, it was O Brother, Where Art Thou?, this year, it was Fear and Loathing in Las Vegas.

Friday

Didn't do a damned thing. Just goofed around on the internet, watched DVDs and Hi-Def Cable.

Saturday

Stayed in my pajamas until the guests started to arrive. A quick shower and hung out with the family. We opened our presents, and the kids got quite a haul. I got some pretty awesome books, including the long-lusted-after I'm a Lebowski, You're a Lebowski, a great book all about the Big Lebowski and it's cult following.

Dinner was great, and I filled myself stupid with one plate. In my own defense, I was snacking all day. And in lieu of antacid, I piled on some peach cobbler a la mode. Some much needed couch time soon followed.

My folks got me this wooden puzzle that frustrated the hell out of me. That is, until i had to look up the solution on the internet. the crudely drawn instructions sent me into a near murderous rage. I got it solved eventually, but got frustrated yet again trying to get the puzzle back into it's original state. Screw you, puzzle man.

Stayed up until about midnight playing online poker. Slept like a baby.

Sunday

Hung out with the family, and basked in their company until about 2:00, when I got back on the road. Should've timed it better, because the sun was in my eyes the whole way back. In retrospect, I should've moved East instead of West.

Got home and Chuckles the cat was nowhere to be found, until I noticed the hall closet door was ajar. Chuck came out and I pet him for about a half hour straight. I missed the little guy.

9 Ways to make the holidays a little more fun.

1. In lieu of wrapped presents, just write everyone checks for random amounts. $12.63, $41.08, $3.79. Be sure to tell them, "Don't spend it all in one place."

2. Just before dinner, swap out the cooked turkey with a raw one that's been carefully spray painted with light brown paint to give the illusion that it is thoroughly cooked. Store the real turkey under the bed in the spare bedroom. Let everyone ponder what the hell happened for as long as possible. My personal best is three hours, twelve minutes.

3. For out-of-town friends and relatives, buy them gift cards from businesses that are not in their immediate area. I recommend EuroDisney.

4. After your presents are wrapped, coat them with about five to eight layers of high gloss polyurethane. If they want that bread machine, they'll have to work for it.

5. Before everyone else wakes up on Christmas morning, stuff all of the kid's presents into the chimney. If there's something that won't fit, take it apart and shove the pieces in haphazardly. Leave a note attached to the top gift: "Overpopulation. Tight schedule. Here ya' go, kids. Love, Santa."

6. Call everyone by their middle names. If they complain, don't be afraid to resort to shouting.

7. Cover your doorbell with pine tar, so everyone that rings it will get their finger stuck. Next year, cover the front door knocker as well. Year after that, the whole door. Year four: the front steps.

8. Spike the egg nog with No-Doz.

9. Stock up on greeting cards for other occasions and amend the messages with "Merry Christmas." The further removed from Christmas, the better. My favorites are "You're turning 40, Merry Christmas.", "Happy Arbor Day, Merry Christmas.", and "Sorry for your loss, Merry Christmas."

A Frustrated Graphic Designer's Non-Illustrated Guide to Graphic Design, Part I: Stationery Design.

Having been a graphic designer for the past 13 years or so (11, if you count since graduating college), there are certain types of projects that I've found can be either a walk in the park or a frustrating mess. So, I thought I'd give everyone some insight on my thought processes on some of my biggest pet peeves in my work. And, I'm gonna do this using only my words.

Today's subject: Stationery design.

Stationery is important to every business. It is what encapsulates their identity, their message and their attitude. However, designing this stuff can be a frustrating mess. Clients can be way too picky sometimes. They focus on all the wrong details, and they have a tendency to go overboard on certain things. About the best you can do is explain to them in the kindest terms possible why this stuff won't work and hope for the best. But, here's my best advice for handling a picky client: Always show them at least three ideas...

1. Their idea. Listen to every little detail they say they want in their look and follow their instructions to the letter. Present their idea to them as exact to their specifications as possible, if anything to show them how much it doesn't work.
2. Their idea, reloaded. Use their instructions as a jumping off point and tweak things in a manner that will make it work as a functional piece. Take their turd of an idea and polish it up to a high gloss shine.
3. Go your own way. Take whatever specifications they have that's non-negotiable (i.e established logo design, ink colors, etc.) and start from scratch. Make the design fresh and new and most of all functional. You may come out with several cool ideas so present the best of the best of your ideas without sending the client into sensory overload.

Now, if your client doesn't have any artwork that's set in stone, like a logo or ink colors, you have a little more freedom to tweak their way of thinking. In this instance you have an even grater opportunity to really wow them. But when it comes to the layout of the stationery, keep the following in mind.

BUSINESS CARDS

Business cards should be the first thing designed. The graphics of everything else should follow what is established on the business cards. Here are my guidelines for proper layout of business cards (exceptions may apply, check with your client for more information):

1. Standard sizes are there for a reason. 3 1/2" X 2" is a good size to fit every bit of necessary information. Besides, most business card holders, Rolodexes and wallet card slots are already set up for this format. There's nothing wrong with making a card that's a 2" square, or 3 1/2" wide and shorter than 2", because they'll still fit in those holders. Going beyond the standard dimensions will generally frustrate someone you hand them out to because they can't store it with the others very easily, and you run the risk of the card falling out of their business card files and being lost forever.
2. Likewise, avoid fold-over cards. They may look cool, but any fold just doubles the thickness of the card and the client is hold fewer cards to hand out to their clients.
3. Keep the information to a bare minimum. Business cards shouldn't do the sales pitch for them. Basic contact information, logo and business tag line should be sufficient.
4. Leave plenty of room for all information. I recommend using a horizontal format rather than a vertical. Don't get your text so big that it can't handle a longer name, title, email address, etc. The card layout should be able to work for John Smith, CEO as well as Caroline Henderson-Longasshyphenatedname, Assistant to the Regional Vice President of Internet Sales - Northeast Division.
5. Try to keep it all on one side of the card. Not only will your printing costs be cut in half, leaving the back of the card blank will give them room to write down any additional information they'll need to give to a specific person, like an alternate number, personal email, hotel room number, etc.
6. Have a margin of at least 3/16". No important information should go beyond 3/16" from the edge of the card because when these cards get cut from the press sheet, the slightest error in cutting would make the whole design look lopsided.
7. Avoid large areas of solid color. A flood of one color may look kinda cool, but when you have large areas of color, the ink has a tendency to offset and scuff. This is particularly true of blue or red Pantone colors, which are notorious for never fully drying.
8. Try to avoid using foil stamping, die cutting or emboss/debossing. Foil stamping can flake, Die cutting can rip and embossing can flatten in a person's wallet, business card case, etc.

LETTERHEADS

Letterheads should follow the same graphic styles you set up for the business cards. Use the same logos, font styles and type formatting, but remember these things:

1. Do not design or proof a letterhead design without a sample business letter in the layout. There's no point in presenting a letterhead design to a client without showing them how they'd have to reformat their style sheets in Microsoft Word to get the information to fit.
2. Avoid having a ghost screen in the background. No matter how light the tint in the background, 99% of laser printer toners won't stick to where printing ink has been laid down. Plus, copying and faxing with a ghost screen can prove problematic.
3. Avoid die cuts, foil stamping, thermography, and emboss/debossing. Die cuts and emboss/debossing increase the risk of jamming the client's printer. Foil stamping can flake off when coming into contact with the heat of a laserjet office printer and gunk up the rollers. Thermography, a process in which clear plastic powder is applied to the printing ink while it's still wet, then run through an oven to melt and combine creating a raised surface to the letters, can also melt again, smear and gunk up laserjet office printers as well.
4. Avoid having graphics bleed off the edge of the sheet. This usually causes the letterhead to be printed on oversized sheets and can be more costly to print. If you must, leave one edge of the artwork without any bleeds, and at least a 1/4" of blank space for the printer to grip from in the printing process.

ENVELOPES

Once you've got the business card and letterhead designed, the envelopes should take no longer than ten minutes to lay out.

1. No envelope should be too intricate in it's design because nine times out of ten it'll be ripped open, it's contents removed and the envelope thrown away. The rest of the time, the envelope will be thrown away without being opened, particularly if it contains a bill or invoice.
2. It's always best to go to the main post office branch in your city and ask for a copy of the postal standards guidebook. They update it every year, so stay frosty. It also helps to establish a friendship with the local postal regulations officer. That way, you can email them a PDF of your artwork and they'll tell you if it passes regulations.

OFFICE FORMS

Miscellaneous office forms should only be designed after the letterhead, business cards and envelopes have been approved by the client. Simply use the same logos, type styles, and themes set up in everything else, and create the office forms to match, while at the same time, leave the backgrounds free of ghost screens to allow for clean faxing and copying.

PAPER STOCK

The choice of paper should be appropriate to the type of business you're designing for. Ideally, stationery should always be on an uncoated stock, and the finish (linen vs. smooth vs. textured) should be left up to the client's preference. My only advise in choosing the paper is not go for anything that's brand spanking new from the paper mills. Go with a paper stock that's been around for a while and is popular enough that the paper company still makes it. There's not much worse than printing one run of a client's stationery on this cool new paper, only to have that stock discontinued three months later.

As for the weight of the paper, they should all be the same finish, with the business cards on cover weight and everything else on text weight. Also, be careful to choose a paper stock that has ready-made envelopes. It's rare, but it's happened to me before, and the cost of the envelopes skyrocketed because the stock the client loved and would not deviate from had to be custom-made.

GRAPHICS STANDARDS

Once everything has been approved by the client, it's always best to review the layouts and create a set of rules for future reference by you and for the client. That way, all future print jobs will remain consistent. If one of the client's employees tries to get his business cards set up in a different style and you do NOT have graphics standards in place, then there's nothing stopping other employees from trying to get their own layouts and God help you if the business really takes off. For example, I have one client whose business has over ten different formats of business cards, all because we never agreed on a standard layout.


Join me next time, when I'll be discussing Bridal Announcements: The Tenth Level of Graphic Design Hell.

Good one, God!

The Context:

Comedy Night at the Nightingale. My stand-up set, December 7, 2008. I was making a point about some of the stupid little phrases people say during political discussions. I go off on a little diatribe about invoking the opinions of the founding fathers, citing the massive generation gap as proof that the founding fathers simply wouldn't understand anything in today's culture, then launching that point towards people who invoke the name of Jesus Christ in political discourse.

The Joke:

I also find it funny when people bring Jesus into a political discussion, particularly if we're not talking about religion. Gee, I don't remember that part of the Bible that condemned the capital gains tax, but thanks for playing!

It's a little arrogant to think that Jesus cares about our politics, don't you think? I don't mean any offense to Christians by that statement, I'm just saying that the last time Jesus got involved in government, it didn't work out too well for him.

Jesus: "I'm King of the Jews!"

Romans: "Oh, really?"

[I quickly pound three imaginary nails into a cross, using the microphone as a hammer] BOOM, BOOM*, BOOM!

Romans: "See you in three days, Your Highness."

The Karmic Retribution:

Despite the fact that I practiced the microphone part of the gag many times beforehand, on the second boom, as indicated in the joke by the *, I smacked the shit out of my knuckle. The message here is pretty clear: God gave me, as we say in the stand-up business, feedback.

In other words, I was heckled by God!

The After-Effects:

See for yourself...

Now, it may not look that bad, but it still hurts like a bastard!

Further Proof:

Science would explain this that it was the metal mesh on the business end of the microphone leaving this imprint on my knuckle, but it's still kinda creepy that it sorta makes a cross.

Here's the Deal, Lord:

If, in fact, you did smite me for joking about your son, I gotta admit, it was a good one. Granted, a bolt of lightning would've been a much better closer to my set, but you're the boss! However, you gotta concede that the joke got a good laugh from the crowd.

So, here's the deal: Let me keep the joke in my act, and each time I do it on stage, I'll do...something. I'll donate to charity, I'll lay off the porn for a week, I'll do something of equal or greater value to the audience's reaction to atone for my sin. Have we got a deal?

The past week and a half

Thanksgiving was good. I got to hang out with the family, relax a bit and have a good time away from my usual life. I came back on Friday, and Chuckles was still alive and still had food in his bowl.

This week was spent trying to readjust to being back at work after a long weekend. Not too much work, but enough for me to sigh heavily with each new job ticket.

Wednesday night, I went up on open mic night and tried out some new material. Just my luck, I went up first again, and the new stuff got a few laughs, but probably would've done better with a slightly more inebriated audience. The feedback I got from the other comics was really helpful. They all agreed that they were those types of jokes, though good, would fit better in the middle of a long set, and wasn't strong enough to sustain a good opening or closing. Good to know for whenever I get a longer set. I'm performing this weekend, but I'm not so sure I'll try that new material again.

Today, I went for my once-weekly chicken pad thai fix. I went to Pei Wei, placed my order to go (because then I get my complimentary soft drink while I wait). In line behind me were a group of spoiled rich kids on lunch break from Holland Hall, and they were being all obnoxious, like they deserved to be at the front of the line.

Anyway, the lady finally asked me for my order, and walked away half-way through me telling her what I wanted. Turned out, she was trying to ring me up on a register without a till. Still, a "Hang on a second, sir." would've been nice, but anyway...

So, I waited for my food, and when my little restaurant pager went off, I got my food and quickly saw that they had given me chicken lo mein. I informed them of the mistake, and they said that they'd let me have the lo mein for free, and that another order of pad thai was already being prepared for another customer, so they'd fix another one for him.

When the correct order was being handed to me, one of the smug little shits who was in line behind me earlier came up to complain that his order for chicken pad thai was taking too long. I just smiled at the little fucker and walked away. Double karma: Free food for the rude treatment, and denying some rich kid of his convenience. Life is great!

Sneak Peek at Personality of Cult: Episode Deux

Personality of Cult: Episode Deux is not opening until January 30, but I thought I'd give a sneak peek of one of our pieces.

The participating artists will be presenting 5" X 5" works based on their favorite (or not so favorite, in this particular case) characters from the Star Wars films. So, I present to you, one of my pieces, Gungun for Sushi.

Doctor, Doctor, give me the news...

Today, I went in for my first ever physical exam. At 32, yeah, it's been overdue for a while.

the first third of the exam allowed for me to keep my clothes on, for which I was thankful because the air was on in that room and it was frickin' cold in there. My blood pressure was a little high, temperature was a little low (no doubt the room's fault), and all air passageways were clear.

Then, they asked me to strip and put on the little gown. I asked that they kill the cold air pumping into the room. Eventually, it was shut off, but for about ten minutes I waited with no area in the exam room not being in the path of one vent or another, with me in a gown that was not only open in the back, but also made of breathable cotton. That, and my affinity for loose boxer shorts made the shrinkage factor at least a seven (out of ten).

My doctor, in a strange attempt to multi-task, chose to ask me most of the general habits questions in the middle of the more intimate exams. I'm sure it was a distraction technique, but I've never been asked if I wear my seat belt regularly by anyone who's got my balls in their hand.

They drew some blood for cholesterol and diabetes tests (among others), which was a great set of results to sweat out over Thanksgiving. Not for nothing, but if there's one thing I love as much as my family, it's their liberal use of heavy cream and real butter during holiday meals. Not that it's just the holidays that I eat like that. Let's face it, when they tapped my vein, pure hollandaise sauce should've come out.

The last part was the urine sample, and I was free to go home. So, a quick lunch, some clutching a teddy bear and crying over the bad touches, and I was back to the office for a half-day of work.

I did have to fess up to a relapse on smoking, so the doctor gave me a prescription for Chantix, the new miracle cure for smoking. I still need to do some checking to see if my insurance will cover it, but I found another thing to look out for: side effects. Nausea, constipation, gas, vomiting (if all four hit at the same time, that'd be an odd sensation, almost worthy of an exorcism) Insomnia (already suffer from that), strange or unusual dreams (ditto), suicidal thoughts, taste changes, night terrors, etc. Gee, sign me up!

But if the insurance will cover it, I'll give it a whirl. Who knows, it could give me tons of new material. Or, I'd become a suicidal, sleep deprived, gastronomical freak show with a new personality. Fingers crossed.

Tokyo Gore Police

Last night was Tokyo Gore Police at the Circle Cinema Midnight Movie. This is a film I had seen once before, when I viewed the screener disk in preparations for designing the poster for the show.

TGP is one of a bizarre genre of slasher film, being the Japanese slasher film. This kind of film operates on the following conceits:

1. The body of every slashing victim must contain at least 200 gallons of blood, and possess the same high blood pressure as the offspring of a meth-addicted hummingbird and a fire hydrant.
2. The editors of these films not only have chronic A.D.D., but are also impervious to epileptic seizures.
3. Logic, Schmogic.
4. Plot, Schmlot.

I'm such a noob with these films. In fact, I still feel this kind of movie is part of a really fucked up collective effort on the part of the Japanese people to get back at us on a psychological level for Hiroshima and Nagasaki. They may not have ever possessed the firepower to retaliate directly, so they're exporting their popular culture in a way that will scare us into never attacking them again.

In TGP, the story goes like this: In a not-too-distant future/alternate-timeline present day, the Tokyo police has been privatized, but the only type of crime being committed are hyper-frenetic attacks by beings know as "engineers", who can quickly regenerate any severed body parts, only the new parts somehow incorporate the weapons they were using. To put it another way, in the first scene, an engineer who was attacking the police with a chainsaw soon found his arm detached, and it grew back with it's own built-in chainsaw.

Expand and repeat that mental image to about two hours, and I give you Tokyo Gore Police. But wait, there's more! Also contained in this film are: The absolute worst-case punishment scenario for copping a feel on the subway, the worst blowjob ever shown on film, advertisements for products catering to self-mutilation, and (please try to wrap your head around this concept) a gun that shoots fists.

And it's all funny as hell. It's so over the top that it's impossible for anyone to imitate it in real life. Not that would matter, as any person who would take any of this shit remotely seriously has no doubt already shown enough warning signs of mental illness to have been locked up far away from society by now.

Obviously, it's not for everyone. But then again, this film could go the way of Two Girls One Cup, in that most people don't want to watch the movie itself, but would instead watch other people react to the film. I first questioned the idea to show this as a midnight movie, but after seeing it, it's precisely the kind of movie made for midnight. It's so fucked up, crazy and wild that it just doesn't work any other time of day.

So, strap in, have a sick bag handy just in case, unplug your brain and enjoy.

My day was boring as hell, so I'm writing about it, and to spice it up I'm acting as if I'm taking a shot of whiskey after every sentence.

I got to sleep in this morning until eleven, when the cat let me know he really, really needed food. So, I got up and fed him. I tried to go back to sleep, but couldn't. So, I checked my Facebook and my Myspace, and I could tell not much was going on with anyone else, either. Oh, well.

Then, I puttered around the house for a while. Did a couple loads of laundry. Shot rubber bands at the cat. Then, I dressed him up and called him "Suzie" for about an hour. He he...fun.

I got to thinkin' that I hadn't had a good piece of pie in, like, forever. But what place has pie on a Sunday, at least some place that I could get a pie and nothing else without looking like a total freak? Judgmental assholes.

Hang on, gotta put a burrito in the microwave. There, done. I'm trying to finish up a lot of the things in the cupboard, so I'm straining some sauerkraut for a side dish. Where was I? Aw, screw it.

I shoulda done dishes today, but I'm too lazy. What, ya' gonna judge me for that, too? Gonna be like those pie snobs at Village Inn? You're all the same. No, I love you guys. You, anonymous, faceless, internet people.

God, I miss Suzie. Not the Suzie I was pretending my cat was, but a different Suzie. THE Suzie. I haven't talked to her since that "misunderstanding", but I wonder if she thinks of me, and not in that looking over her shoulder in abject fear kinda way. But I've grown since then, don't you think? Don't you think? HEY! I'm talking to-Oh, I forgot...Internet.

I wonder if Whataburger delivers. The burrito and sauerkraut was, well, not probably not the BEST idea, but it wasn't enough. I need to get my jalapeno bacon burger on! I like the Whataburger people. They're good people. Fuck Village Inn.

I want to keep typing, but the text is too small to read. There, that's better. Hey, I can make it all blue! Kick ass. Why am I so tired? Gotta fight through that. Maybe if I focus on the intense pain in my liver right about now that should keep me awake for a whilhnuiojk.,mmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmm

This post was finally published by Fritschie's next door neighbor upon discovery of his unconscious body. Nothing was edited from this post, except about five pages worth of the letter m. Paramedics are en route.

Zack and Miri Make a Quantum of Solace

Zack & Miri Make a Porno

I actually saw this movie a week or so ago, but I haven't gotten around to writing a review until now. I really enjoyed it, though not up to the same level as Kevin Smith's other films (excepting maybe Jersey Girl).

Heretofore, all of Kevin Smith's movies have hit me in a time of my life where the underlying message of the film has reflected what has been happening in my own life. I first saw Clerks and Mallrats early in my adulthood where it was time for me to shit or get off the pot. Chasing Amy came out when I was madly in love with a girl who didn't really want to love me the same way. Dogma came right in the middle of a crisis of faith of my own. Jay & Silent Bob Strike Back, well, was a welcome distraction from a horrible breakup that happened that very afternoon. Jersey Girl was right at a time where I was remembering and coming to terms with things about my own father, who had passed many years prior. Clerks II was right at the time I was turning thirty and thinking about what I really wanted out of life.

Zack and Miri, is another matter. The film is about two lifelong friends discovering their true feelings about one another. While the film was hilarious for it's sheer raunchiness, just from repeated personal experience of falling for women who were great friends of mine beforehand, I felt myself cringing through most of the scenes. It wasn't the film's fault, nor was it Smith's, it just hit a little too close to home for me.Having experienced the reality of such situations (minus the actual filming-a-porno part), I found myself too distracted to enjoy the film as a whole. At many crucial plot points not to be divulged here, I felt like yelling "Don't do it! Don't do it!"

And while I'm glad the characters found their happily ever after, I really wanted to call bullshit on a lot of it. Maybe this is one film I'm gonna have to give some time and a change of perspective for it to win me over.


Quantum of Solace

Put aside the off-putting title and odd choice of theme song, and this is a great film. Starting off where Casino Royale left off, Quantum of Solace manages to continue the story and take it in a completely unexpected direction without it re-hashing the plot of the first film or making you feel lost if you hadn't seen the first one. In fact, my friend who hadn't seen Casino Royale loved it and wasn't confused, but that didn't stop us from making her watch it as soon as we got back to her house.

But even though the two films are parts of one larger story, they are very different in theme and structure. Casino Royale had a fourth act, which was kinda off-putting for a Bond film. Quantum is a return to the action-plot-action-plot-etc. that is a staple of the franchise, but in keeping with the momentum set by Royale, the characters are more human, deeply flawed and realistically motivated.

The bad guys could possibly exist in our world, though the secrecy of their actions would be highly improbable. In past Bond films, the villains couldn't shut the hell up about their plans, but now, they have to be beat half to death to let anything slip. Strangely enough, it's still a mirror image of the bad guys we have in real life. Back in the sixties, the real-life bad guys would never let any details slip about their dastardly deeds (ask any conspiracy theorist), but in this day and age, we seem to be surrounded with bad guys that seem to flaunt what they've done and act like they're bulletproof (cough-cough-Cheney).

Daniel Craig proves he's not just a flash-in-the-pan. He could've easily brooded his way through his second outing and it would've still been a good film. Watching him in any scene, you sense that there's something going on under all the machismo. Most Bonds of the past were either preforming the mission or going rogue. Craig has found a way to have his martini and drink it, too.

Dame Judi Dench was awesome as usual. in the Pierce Brosnan years, she played M as a tough as nails hardass to match Bond's devil-may-care attitude. But given that we're now with a James Bond who's still not quite the James-Fucking-Bond we were used to before Casino Royale, Dench plays the character a little deeper. She's still a hardass, but it's more in the strict mother/teacher kind of way. She rides Bond's ass hard at his mistakes, as she should, but now it's with a "What did you learn?" vibe. You get a sense that she knows the kind of spy Bond could one day become, but won't give him an inch until he proves he's worthy.

I'm glad they set up the idea of a new, super-secretive conspiracy. That's what gives Quantum it's best moments, in my opinion. Given that the producers have effectively rebooted the franchise, I feel it would've been a huge mistake to try to reboot SPECTRE (the evil organization from past Bond films) as well. This new super-villain group, which is partly the reason for the odd title, could have some mileage for several more films if the filmmakers play their cards right.

Director Marc Forster never ceases to amaze me. Looking at his previous films (Monster's Ball, Finding Neverland, Stranger than Fiction, The Kite Runner) he never does the same thing twice. When it comes to subject matter, he's managed to outdo Stanley Kubrick in the variance of subject matter, but unlike Kubrick, he's not only proven himself much more prolific at it, but also garnered a reputation of "Really? He directed that movie, too? No way!" How that will play out over the rest of his career, who knows? But it'll be interesting to see what he does next.

I've tried to avoid talking about too many plot points, but there are some truly inspired parts in Quantum of Solace. The main title sequence is vastly different that those we've seen in the past, forgiving the fact that the theme song will still need to grow on me. Fans of Goldfinger will love the modern twist on a classic image from that film. There's a wonderfully crafted scene that takes place during a performance of Puccini's Tosca. Plus, remember the torture scene in Casino Royale that made every guy squirm with sympathetic pain? Well, there's a shot in this movie that ensures that I won't be able to see an emergency fire ax the same way again.

Post-election Observations

This has been one weird week. I'm still overjoyed by the news of Obama's victory, but I'm being met in many circles with so much negativity and downright vitriol from right wingers around me. It seems Newton's Third law applies to politics as well as it does to physics: Every action has an equal and opposite reaction.

I live in Oklahoma, one of the only truly red states in the nation. McCain carried our state, and by a wide margin. Hell, we may have been the only state that went red in every frickin' county! And being a devout Democrat in a state like this is like walking into high school gym class in a tutu... You're just asking for trouble.

And I hate that I let this shit bother me for a second. People that I know that are getting into this with me is one thing. Most of them know they'll get a rise out of me, and I don't hold a grudge if they drive me to that. But now, I'm having total strangers do this shit. While I admire the strength of their convictions, and respect their right to express it, it just unnerves me the bullshit they bought into. For instance:

1) Don't you think that if there was the slightest shred of proof that Barack Obama was NOT born in this country that someone would've been able to prove it by now, not just because he got elected, but maybe during the 21 months since he announced his candidacy? When arguing this point with this one guy, I brought up that I could say McCain's having been born on a military base in Panama is just as questionable, but I don't stress this subject because I lack the evidence to prove a negative. Likewise, I couldn't prove the guy I was arguing with was not an asshole.

2) I find it particularly amazing how people can accuse Obama of secretly being a Muslim and mention Rev. Jeremiah Wright in the same sentence. Or, when someone called him an elitist then bestowed the virtues of John McCain, a man who dumped his disabled wife for a sugar momma and currently owns 7-12 houses?

3) Many of the points that get brought up just boggle my mind. They constantly bitch about Obama's stance on health care, taxes, Iraq, Osama bin Laden, etc. without actually knowing what those clearly stated stances actually are! It's as if they put their televisions on mute whenever Obama spoke or put on headphones when someone like me tries to inform them of the reality of the situation.

4) Tonight, I got this message on Myspace from someone I do not know:

I'm a right wing conservative republican who "clings to my guns and religion". I'm 24 and for some reason i've hit a wall in life and I don't feel as though i'm being challenged enough, you seem to be my exact opposite...want to be friends?

Are you fucking kidding me? Was the Democrats' victories last week so devastating that right-wingers are turning into Tyler Durden from Fight Club? You want me to hit you as hard as I can?

And I don't say this with any desire to fight anyone over these points, but have things gotten that boring at the eight-year Sean Hannity/Rush Limbaugh/William Kristol circle jerk that they feel the need to seek us out to gratify their conversational bloodlust? I would ask them if this was the best idea they had after two million years of evolution, but that would probably open a different can of worms altogether.

All of this raises some really big questions, in my opinion. Like, is our nation ready for a President that can formulate a sentence without a teleprompter? Are we ready for someone that will actually listen to the will of the people and uphold the laws of our land instead of shooting first and later convincing us it was the right idea?

And I'm sure by writing this I just opened up a whole new palette load of abuse from the very people I'm sick of hearing this shit from, but I had to get this off my chest. My one wish for people to work together on swallowing this shit sandwich our current president has served us, so that we can finally move on to the dessert course. I'm not saying we have to agree on everything, but we don't have to constantly fight about it, either.

That being said, the next person who asks me if I'd like more of the Obama Kool-Aid is getting a flag pin in the jugular vein.

One final, albeit scary, thought. Last weekend was the big Gun and Knife show here in Tulsa, and according to news reports, the sales were through the roof! Most of the people at this show were snatching up guns left and right in preparation for a possible ban on such weapons by the Obama Administration. However, some of that crowd I saw coming out of the QuikTrip Center had a weird determination in their eyes that looked as if they were planning something that might involve a manifesto of some sort. To any of those people, please, calm down. Count to ten.

However, I prefer to think any actions done by these people will be done in a defensive manner rather than offensive... Fingers crossed. If I'm right on this, I'm perfectly fine with what they're doing. They can go spend the next four years living off the grid, in the woods, drinking their own urine and watching Red Dawn on a perpetual loop. Fine by me. The rest of us will be in the real world advancing our society.

And to those of us doing the advancing: If you hear anyone on the mountain yelling, "WOLVERINES!!!!", we should strongly consider running like hell.

My new favorie online addictions

Get Your War On, new episode every Friday on 23/6

Get the latest news satire and funny videos at 236.com.

Past episodes of It's Always Sunny In Philadelphia on Hulu:



Simon's Cat:



Hate by Numbers on Cracked:

Wal-Mart Makes The Worst Movie of All-Time -- powered by Cracked.com

YES, WE FUCKING DID!

To paraphrase Bill Hicks, it feels like all the artists of this country have been shooting darts at the big elephant for years. The elephant is now dead.

As a born and raised, dyed in the wool liberal, tonight I experienced a joy that i could never have imagined. I literally dropped to my knees and started crying the moment it was called for our new President, Barack Obama.

It's been a long time coming, after years of our party's ideals being dragged through the mud by radical ideologues, and making us feel that our dreams for this nation might have slipped away forever. Tonight, I felt...for the first time in years...that there was a chance that a brighter day was finally here.

I hate to illiterate or hyperbolate this into a catchphrase any more than it already has, but it's fucking true. After years of being told "no", finally there's a shimmer of brightness on the horizon. The ring has been cast into the fires of Mount Doom, and the new age has reached its dawn.

I couldn't be happier, and I'm so happy to have spent this evening with my greatest friends.

Update

Tomorrow, I'm getting up early to get in line to vote. Not that I'm worried that the line will be around the block, but I'm making the effort regardless. And please note that getting myself out of bed before 7:30 on a week day means a lot.

I'm sitting here doing some research on the smaller items on the ballot... Don't want to wind up picking the wrong county judge or bond issue. Tulsa's pretty fucked up as it is, governmentally speaking, and I'd rather not contribute to the clusterfuck.

I'm also cleaning up the house, because my place has been chosen for my friends' election watch party. The deciding factor? I'm the only one with cable TV!


This weekend, I had three stand-up shows, and I did pretty damned good, in my own humble opinion. I was thankful to have this many sows right before the election. I figure this may be the last time to use that material. Most of it can't be tweaked no matter what the outcome is. I should have video online soon.


Other than that, not much else to report. Everything seems to be a work in progress and there's not much to report on yet.

Quick election poll WTF

Yesterday, a friend pointed this article out to me. What I found absolutely hilarious was this information:

• 94 percent plan to go to the polls next month.
• 82 percent are extremely likely to vote.

So, are the other 12% just gonna go there and hang out? Mooch all the free coffee and donuts from the volunteers? More abstractly, is there the possibility one person will be so completely ignorant of the electoral process that they'll throw back the curtain on the booth and complain that it won't flush? Just imagine all the volunteers gaping in horror at the urine-soaked and short circuiting polling machine. Yuckiest. Recount. Ever.

Take off all that make-up, you look like an attention whore.

HA!!! I first read about this story this morning, long before she fessed up. A McCain volunteer claiming to be attacked, robbed and sexually assaulted by someone rooting for Obama. From the start, I smelled bullshit. I wasn't 100% sure, but I had the following suspicions:

1. In the history of humankind, when has there ever been a politically-motivated ATM mugging?

2. Even if the attacker was using a Gerber spoon, during the kind of attack she described in the police report, I marveled at his ability to not break the skin. That was a steady hand for a guy pumping adrenalin.

3. An attacker articulate enough to tell his victim "You will be a Barack Obama supporter." is apparently not intelligent to wrote the B the right way. On the other hand, maybe he screwed up, and human skin isn't the most forgiving medium.

4. No swelling, no bloodshot eye, no redness around the way-too-dark-too-soon bruise. Who'd she get to do her make-up, An emo noob?

5. The story first broke on the Drudge Report, and the photo was first posted on an anti-Obama website. It's as if Christmas came early for the wingnuts and hours later turned into April Fool's Day. When it came out as a hoax, no retractions. Drudge (which is the most apt name for the bottom-feeding hack that he is) just moved it down from the banner headline and the blog deleted the post altogether (which hasn't stopped people from flooding them with comments).

6. If you ever decide to fake an attack, shouldn't you come up with a crime scene that doesn't have constant video surveillance? I mean, an ATM? What part of this part of your story did you not think was gonna come back and bite you on the ass?

7. At least the fake mugger kept his message simple. I would've called bullshit far sooner if the guy itemized the issues during the attack. "This is for McCain's support of Big Oil! This is for wanting to raise my taxes! Here's what I think of your fucking $5,000 heath care voucher!"

8. One comment on the now-deleted blog post the picture originated from stated that the mugger might have suffered from "Mirror Vision", which supposedly means that the mugger wrote it backwards because he see things backwards. Well, if he saw things backwards, wouldn't he write the B the same way he always sees it, which is the same way we all write it? Likewise, the color I perceive to be blue may actually appear to you as what I would call red, but we both acknowledge it as the color blue. It's a basic principle of perception I have discussed with many people many times before, granted while immensely stoned.

While I'm on basic principles of perception, Might I remind people of ongoing case of the Court of Public Opinion vs. Mob Mentality? You see, upon hearing of such an attack people on both sides get fired up, offensively and defensively. And regardless of when the hoax is revealed, both sides are gonna still want someone's head on a platter and they'll settle for anyone.

Most people who were on this woman's side in the beginning are now split into two groups: those condemning her actions and calling for her head, and those using the exposure of the hoax as an example of the liberal media elite trying to bring a good woman down with their pesky facts and logical reasoning. And on the opposite side of the spectrum, we've got the people who cried bullshit in the beginning reveling in being right all along, and the ultra-defensive people crying conspiracy from McCain and Palin directly.

I, for one, called bullshit for one reason: It was a flimsy story with multiple plot holes that would've had a hard time making it past the table read for a 70's Mexican soap opera. This was an attempt at manipulation conceived, conducted and ultimately botched by a total idiot who is now being brought up on charges as a result. End of story.

And I'll leave you with this:

Hey, you know all those real issues that the McCain campaign wished you wouldn't think about? Well, distraction accomplished. At least until Monday.

UPDATE: A eighth-assed attempt at a backpedal has been posted at the blog that started it all.

My first stand-up video

I've got one more I'm editing down and I'll post it when I get it done. For now, enjoy!



Not to crap in my own punch bowl, but they weren't lying about the camera adding ten pounds.

Life Lessons Learned from My DVD Collection

1. Freeing animals from the zoo is always a good "Plan B".
2. Never put the pussy on a pedestal.
3. It's never too late to get it all back.
4. When in space, never piss in someone else's relief tube.
5. Talent agents will book any act involving family.
6. Never agree to write a screenplay about something you have no knowledge about, regardless of the guy next door knowing everything about it.
7. Theatricality can be a powerful weapon.
8. If you meet a hot chick on a train through Europe, don't act like it's the only night you'll have together, because you may run into her years later.
9. Don't knock rationalizations.
10. It's quite an experience to live in fear...that's what it is to be a slave.
11. Cash, every movie costs $2,184.
12. Never piss off a Scotsman.
13. You really can't do anything in this world without the proper forms.
14. You don't play your cards, you play the person sitting across from you.
15. It's not who you love, it's how.
16. Ordering your coffee black can save your life.
17. Don't blame for one and fuck the other.
18. When booking a donkey show, get all of the details.
19. When you run out of craft supplies, ransack you and your neighbors' yards.
20. All things considered, the simplest solution tends to be the best one.
21. When the government shuts you down, find another theater.
22. You can't handle an hour long drum solo on strong acid.
23. When you're facing a loaded gun, what's the difference?
24. Even if you've been to two state fairs and a rodeo, there's always something stupider.
25. Ideas are better than beliefs.
26. When teaching a hot alien chick about our culture, it's best to skip past the part about war.
27. With enough soap, one can blow up just about anything.
28. There are three things that you need in life: Respect for all forms of life, a nice bowel movement on a regular basis, and a navy blazer.
29. If someone asks you if you're a god, you say YES!
30. Jackie Wilson could even get the most stoic chick to move her feet.
31. If you win the crowd, you win your freedom.
32. Never show a mobster your prized racing horse.
33. Never go fishing with a mid-level mob enforcer.
34. If anyone makes you do the Truffle Shuffle prior to entering their yard, just jump the fence and punch them in the teeth.
35. On rare occasions, it's OK to let the seven-foot-tall black man grab your crotch.
36. Twelve years is apparently a long time for a rat to be alive.
37. No woman in the history of the owlrd is having better sex than the sex you are having with Ian in my head.
38. A notepad in your pocket can save your life.
39. There's someone out there for everyone, even if you need a compass, a pickaxe and night goggles to find them.
40. Never mouth off to a wizard.
41. If you must toss a dwarf, let him bring it up, and the elf must never know.
42. Check for a pulse before you set your son's body on fire.
43. Memory is unreliable.
44. The future is not set. You can choose.
45. Scary monsters don't have plaque.
46. Life's like a move, write your own ending. Keep believing, keep pretending.
47. If you do not master your rage, your rage will become your master.
48. The house always wins. Play long enough, you never change the stakes. The house takes you. Unless, when that perfect hand comes along, you bet and you bet big, then you take the house.
49. When speaking in code, never quote Kashmir.
50. The code is more like guidelines than actual rules.
51. Elegance is key. When faced with a choice between a hammer, a chainsaw and a samurai sword, go with the sword.
52. You gotta get the Dip-Tet.
53. When faking stomach cancer, don't order out for burgers.
54. When your helmet deflects a bullet, don't take it off to inspect it.
55. In case the dead rise from the grave, go to the bar.
56. You can't kill a pig if he's wearing people clothes.
57. If you have the right script, people will focus more on Mickey Rourke than of a naked Carla Cugino.
58. When a guy with no head comes at you with a sword, don't accept his challenge.
59. Blame Canada.
60. With great power comes great responsibility.
61. Never hard-wire anything to your spine.
62. Why believe in a mystical power when it's just bacteria in your blood.
63. Never bet against the two-foot tall green guy.
64. When you start your saga with the fourth part, at least try to tie up some loose ends in episodes one and two instead of the last thirty minutes of episode three.
65. Greedo never shot first.
66. Every woman chuckles a little when Yoda says "Size matters not."
67. Even the mightiest empire can be crushed my muppets.
68. One man's mundane and desperate existence is another man's Technicolor.
69. Putting on glasses and changing your hair part is a perfectly legit disguise.
70. Arec Barrwin is worthress.
71. Snarky comments and cool gadgets are better weapons than theatricality.
72. I'm not saying that you don't know what you're talking about, but I don't know what you're talking about.
73. The trunk 1966 maroon Ford Galaxie 500 holds a tuba, a suitcase, a dead dog, and a garment bag almost perfectly.

Busy, blech, bomb, better

Another long gap in posts, but I've got a good excuse this time. the past two weeks have been a mix of being busy, being sick and being without a computer at home.

At work, I've had a steady stream of projects with only one thing in common, they've all sat on the clients' desks until the last possible minute. So, I've had the pain of having to work my ass of without the benefit of overtime.

Work was starting to lighten up on Wednesday, just in time for me to start feeling sick. Sore throat, fever, and that overall shitty feeling made me stay at home on Wednesday night and almost call on sick on Thursday. I probably should have considering that my illness and nearly incapacitating cold medicine didn't keep my boss from yelling at me during the morning meeting.

That worked wonders, by the way. Nothing draws one's mind off being sick more than being extremely pissed off. It's the distraction principle. It's the same reason your headache goes away as soon as someone sticks your hand in blender and hits "Puree". But I got through it.

This past Tuesday, the motherboard on the laptop fried on me. The Lappy II is dead. Long live the Lappy II. just as I was trying to burn an important file to disk. So, on Friday, I had the guys at MegaWatts transfer the hard drive contents over to a used G4 tower they had in stock. And, whomever set up the system on that thing screwed something up, because i had to burn backups of all my files and reformat the hard drive.

I've got it all set up now, and it rocks. This is my inaugural blog post on Buford I. It's not too powerful, but it's got room to expand, which is a lot more than I could say for the Lappy. But it serves its purpose.

Political Cures That May Be Worse Than the Disease Vol. 10 - Debates

It's so strange that the two debates we've had so far (the first presidential and the only vice-presidential) have had such high ratings, but so low on honest tactics and even lower on excitement. So, I've devised a few ideas to make the debates a little more truthful, and a little more fun. Introducing:

THE FRITSCHIE RULES OF POLITICAL DEBATE

1. TIME LIMITS: With each new topic, the first candidate to speak has 90 seconds, then the other candidate has 90 seconds to respond, then back to the first candidate for a one minute response, then back to the second candidate for a rebuttal. This time will be marked in the same fashion as the shot clock at a basketball game. A large timer will count down the time, and when time runs out, a loud buzzer will go off. Any attempt to finish up your point after the buzzer has gone off will be moot... And mute, for that matter because their microphone will be cut.

2. FACTS: The entire audience will consist of fact-checkers, furiously Googling what the candidates are saying. Each audience member will have a button to press if the candidate is factually wrong. If more than twenty audience members find the candidate is lying and hit this button, the speaker will receive a tiny shock akin to a static shock from a carpet. However, the more people who hit the button (i.e. the more obvious the lie) the higher the voltage. Audience members will have to be screened in the off chance that they'll shock the candidates just for the hell of it.

3. SOUND BITES: A nationwide poll will be taken to determine the ten most annoying buzzwords used repeatedly by each candidate during the campaign. A second moderator, named "The Enforcer" will stand on stage between the two candidates and when a candidate utters one of the ten buzzwords, said candidate will be shot in the kneecap with a .22 caliber short round. There really is only one man who could fill the position of The Enforcer: Samuel L. Jackson..."SAY 'MAVERICK' ONE MORE TIME, MOTHERFUCKER!!!"

4. SEPARATION OF CHURCH AND DEBATE: The lighting on stage will be fairly dimmer than what we normally see in televised debate, for good reason. Any candidate who attempts to use God to defend their position on any subject will have the lights turned up double on them. This is done to single out the "God Candidate" for our more simple minded populace, as well as to increase the chance for flop sweat and discomfort for the candidate and the viewing pleasure of voters with more than half a brain. Hell, the average Republican candidate would suffer third-degree burns from all the stage lights turned on them at once. There's your fucking tanning bed, Sarah Palin!*

5. EFFECTIVE USE OF HIGH DEFINITION: The broadcast of each debate will be done in a fashion to present each candidate in the most honest fashion as possible. Through use of high definition television and the split screen, the candidates will only be shown from the neck up, and with minimal make-up. This will allow the television audience the chance to see every facial twitch, every involuntary dilation of the pupil, every blush. With integrated internet links, we can also show each candidate's blood pressure, heart rate and temperature, making it much more fun if they get shocked by the audience, shot by The Enforcer or suddenly got hit by twice as many lights.

* Mad props to Mom for the tanning joke.

What I've been up to

One thought I've had repeating through my head is how I need to devote more time to my blog again. I've been a real slacker over the past few months. This used to be what I did to unload all the shit in my head. Either I'm so damn busy lately or I'm channeling a lot of that need to vent into my stand-up routines, but I feel bad that I'm only doing this once a week.

Since my last post, I've been swamped with work and various other projects, and I guess I'll go one by one:

THE MSG ALLERGY

The comedy club owners just kinda shrugged at the news of my allergy. I guess it's just agreed that not everyone will have the same reaction to the cheese sauce, and no one else has complained about it, so stay the course.

MY BAD LUCK WITH THE GAS COMPANY

On Sunday night, I went into the office to clean out our processor. When I arrived, the flood lights next door were on, as they usually are from dusk to dawn. But when I came out an hour later, the lights were off, there was a loud hissing sound, and the smell of gas in the air. Turns out that while I was inside, someone had rammed into the gas meter and took off. So, I called it into the gas company.

Yep, one week after dealing with my neighbor getting my gas shut off because of a leak, I'm calling ina a leak to my neighbor at the office. Poetic, isn't it?

POLITICS

After watching the two debates, I'll be posting another of my "Political cures that may be worse than the disease" this weekend. That being said, with everything that's happening with the economy and the bailout, it's gonna be satisfying to watch McCain go in to full meltdown mode in the coming weeks, and see Palin with that blank smile on her face wondering if this is normal.

WORK

One minor frustration after another. Moving on.

THE STATE FAIR

Fuck that. I can deep-fry things at home for a lot cheaper.

STAND-UP

Went up Wednesday night at the club and did really well. I'm going up at the Nightingale this Sunday. My first ten-minute set. Should be fun.

OVERALL MOOD

I'm starting to feel that itch to change some things in my life, particularly in the romance department. I'm mostly getting tired of being living proof that nice guys always finish last. For years, I've been the go-to guy for advice to help women understand the jerks in their lives. As if I can relate to that mindset in any way, shape or form. It's just something that's really starting to irk the living shit out of me.

I mean, you wouldn't go to a restaurant, order a hamburger, then complain non-stop that it's not a steak, right? Even if a steak is readily available there?

I guess I'm just tired of dealing with women asking why can't they have this and that, and all they respond to is what they want to hear, but meanwhile I'm sitting there thinking, "I got that, that too, etc."

Fat lip

Today, a man didn't get his car towed because weeks ago a comedy club bought several cans of chili and nacho cheese sauce.

Confused? I can explain.

Last night, I ordered dinner at the comedy club. Chili cheese fries. Wanna know something you never hear someone say after eating chili cheese fries? "That was a good decision I just made!"

Fifteen minutes after finishing my meal, I began to feel an odd sensation in the middle of my upper lip. It felt like a mosquito bite, only without the itching pain. It was a tightness in the tissue and some slight swelling. Over the course of the next hour, the swelling spread to my entire upper lip.

My friends and I went out for ice cream, and it helped with the swelling. I went home and went to bed. In the morning, I woke up, the swelling had not gone down. In fact, it was three times its normal size.

When I got to work, I called the clinic to set up an appointment. They fit me in right away, seeing as it was a possible allergic reaction situation. It was determined that it was the massive amounts of MSG in the canned chili and cheese sauce that my lip was reacting to. So, some allergy pills and I was good to go. Lip back to normal size.

When I got home, I rummaged through the cupboard and bagged up all of the foods I had with MSG in it. I decided not to throw the food away, but rather give it to a friend of mine, you know, a friend who won't swell up if they eat it. I pulled up to the house, which was a couple blocks away from the State Fair, and the car parked out front was about to be towed away for parking on the street. I asked my friend if she knew who's car it was and it turned out to be her brother's.

So there. A simple order of chili and cheese sauce leads to a car not being towed. Not exactly the best example of a the-world-is-all-connected zen exercise, but hey...

Not the Heroes I was expecting, but OK...

Quick update on my life: The gas is back on, I love hot water, and everything else is going swimmingly. Now, on with more pressing matters...


NOTE: Do not read the rest of this post unless you have seen the season premiere of Heroes. Spoilers ahead.

Okay, just so I have this straight...

Future Peter shot Nathan, trapped Present Peter in some fat guy, marooned Parkman in the Sahara, and hung around to see things go completely apeshit. Nathan believes he's now an angel, in a character arc that could get really annoying really fast. Parkman thinks he can communicate with a turtle, but it turns out to be an African version of Isaac from season one.

Mohinder discovers the source of the mutant powers in the adrenal gland, makes one syringe of instant hero juice, and has a crisis of conscience. He must choose between testing the formula on himself, or dumping one more syringe in the East River (never mind the fact that the needle could've hit a fish and we would've had a giant, flying, psychic, super-strong, teleporting, rapid-healing mackerel on our hands). So, he injects the formula into his own arm, and now he's Jeff Goldblum from The Fly...drinking sugary drinks by the gallon, climbing walls and setting a world record for fastest seduction/stripping of a fully clothed female character in network television history.

Nikki/Jessica is now Icewoman and has a new personality. No word yet on what happened to her son, who was last seen in New Orleans watching a building burn with her inside it.

Hiro is now a multimillionaire with one job to do: to protect half of a complex formula, which is promptly stolen by a woman whose mixture of unbelievably cute and ethically questionable leads me to wonder if I might have dated her in the past.

Sylar can now heal, having stolen (or co-opted) the power from Claire, in a creepy scene where she's wide awake with her skull cap off. She asks him if he's gonna eat her brain, and his disgusted response instantly kills at least half of the internet chatter about his character. Apparently his method of stealing powers is about as complex as removing a wrenched ankle in a game of Operation. He puts her skull cap back in place and leaves with a file folder containing profiles of the prisoners of "Level 5"

Level 5 is where they put the worst of the worst, and also Noah Bennett because apparently Levels 1-4 didn't have a bed open. So, Sylar strolls right in like it's the Sharper Image of superpowers, kills and steals Bob's midas touch...I'm guessing because his master plan for ruling the world somehow involves upsetting the gold standard.

And Sylar's attempt to crack open Elle's skull resulted in the metaphysical equivalent of plugging an American appliance in a European outlet. This shorted the whole grid and the Level 5 prisoners escaped, including, but not limited to the firestarter, creepy black guy whose powers are supposed to be threatening for some reason, fat guy/Present Peter, and The German...which why is it always that the evil magnetic guy in these stories has to be German? What the fuck did we Germans ever do...oh, nevermind.

Oh, and somehow Nathan's wounds were healed by a figment of his imagination, and Mama Patrelli is Sylar's mother as well.

Which begs the question: Did the writing staff mainline speedballs for a solid week, watching every episode of Lost before they mapped out this season? Let's just really screw with people's ideas of these well-established characters and spend the rest of the season trying to explain it.

In the end, I'll just say that I'm not disappointed, just a little confused. They needed to take this shit in a different direction. Hell, Heroes may be the one show that benefited from the writer's strike. It forced the producers to pull the car into a motel for the night, get rested up and hit the road refreshed in the morning. The only problem is they had a quintuple espresso before getting back behind the wheel, and claim they know a shortcut through the cornfield. There's no way out of it. I'm along for the ride and all I can do is buckle up and pray they find paved road soon.

Out of gas

It's not like I was sitting around the house thinking, "Gee, it's been nearly nine months since I've had a paid service or utility shut off at my place due to situations beyond my control." It's not like I've been taking natural gas for granted. It's not like I did anything to piss off my neighbor. In fact, I never even met her.

But, despite all this, I'm on day four without gas.

Yesterday morning, I had a unwelcome yet effective snap to consciousness when I stepped into my shower for what I assumed was my usual perfect calibration of the water knobs (full blast of hot, quarter turn of cold). In reality, it was ice fucking cold.

I had little choice but to continue the cold shower and wash up. Once out of the shower, dried off and fully dressed, I scrambled around the apartment to find my latest gas bill to make sure I didn't miss a cutoff notice. The most recent one I could find was from last month, which did have a notice, but I could've sworn I had paid it off. I took the bill with me and decided to call the service hotline when I got to work.

I stepped outside and on my way to the car, I saw a slip of paper on the sidewalk with the Oklahoma Natural Gas logo on it. Upon closer inspection, it also had my address on it. It also had Wednesday's date on it. Apparently, I had enough hot water in the tank to let Thursday go by unnoticed.

At work, I called the gas company and checked on the outage. As it turns out, my neighbor had smelled something funny and reported a gas leak. They said the way the lines went through the building that it was possible for my pipes to be the cause of the leak into the other apartment. So, I got shut off, too. They told me to talk to my landlord about when the plumber will be by.

So, I called the landlord. She knew nothing about anything regarding a gas leak. Ooookaaaaayyyy.... The landlord promises to call me back when she knows more.

This morning, another cold shower. I get a call from the landlord and the story gets weirder. Not only did my neighbor detect a gas leak, and not inform me of the problem that could've KILLED ME (!!!), then had the gas comany shut off my service... But she also moved out and skipped out on her lease. According to the landlord, all that remains in the apartment was her couch.

I also couldn't help but notice that the light bulbs in the hallway are missing.

The plumber won't be by until Monday afternoon. Looks like it's microwave meals and questionable hygiene for a couple more days, and I have no one to yell at for the screw-up.

Blade Runner

This weekend was the midnight movie I've been waiting for: Blade Runner. Easily my favorite movie of all time, having watched it at least one or twice a month for nearly twelve years now. And all that time, I had never seen it on the big screen, until now.

My first exposure to Blade Runner was in college, watching a bootleg copy of the theatrical cut at a friend's house. I was blown away by the visuals of the film, but was turned off by the boring as hell voiceover narration throughout the film. When my friend moved away, he sold me the tape for a dollar, and somewhere along the way, it disappeared.

I didn't see it again for nearly a year later, when I was fresh out of college. I was in my first apartment, sans cable TV, and I found a VHS copy of the director's cut at Vintage Stock for five bucks. Good deal, figured it was worth another viewing. Lo and behold, no fucking narration! This film now officially kicks ass!

I wore down that videotape shortly before I upgraded to DVD. It was supposed to be the first DVD I purchased, but the store that i bought the player from was out of stock of the movie. So, Blade Runner wound up being the third DVD I ever owned. I never lent it out, so when it turned up missing, I suspected theft. But fortunately I found a replacement copy at the bargain bin at Wal-Mart. The thing I remember about this purchase was that Son-In-Law starring Pauly Shore was right next to it in the bin, and was selling for a dollar more... Further proof that Wal-Mart is pure evil, when they think that Pauly Shore is more bankable than Blade Runner.

This past fall, with the release of the Final Cut on DVD, marked the fifth and hopefully final time I need to buy this movie, short of when I eventually upgrade to Blu-Ray. I got the four-disc edition, simply because they were sold out of the five-disc edition. No biggie. The four-disc, from what I can tell, has everything but the kitchen sink, which leads me to believe that the fifth disk is, in fact, a kitchen sink.

The Final Cut, in essence, is what every special director's cut should be. It's not a George Lucas hey-see-what-I-did-on-my-computer? redux/abomination. Nor is it a David Lynch you're-gonna-watch-every-frame-we-filmed-Goddamnit edit. It isn't even a Steven Spielberg how-did-this-movie-wind-up-being-shorter-than-I-remember? special edition. No, Blade Runner: The Final Cut was a light touch. Fixing a continuity error here, airbrushing out a stunt wire there, and, of course, adding the go-go dancers wearing hockey masks. They still left in one big continuity error in my opinion, but if you don't notice, I won't talk about it.

When it came time to design the poster for the midnight movie at the Circle Cinema, I took my time, spending close to 26 hours doing the illustrations, with Blade Runner playing in the other room while I worked. Once the artwork was done, I put the movie away for a while, vowing not to watch it again until I see it one the big screen. That was two months ago.

The movie played both Friday and Saturday night, and I was first in line both times. I saw it Friday with about seven of my friends, with a couple of them having never seen it before, so afterwards I had to answer some questions. Saturday, I saw it with Tony and Jenny, who are two of my favorite midnight movie buddies. They not only forgive me for completely geeking out over these things, but often join me in the geekness.

Every time I see this movie, I spot something new. I don't know if ti's poor memory retention, short attention span, or if the film truly is that richly detailed, but there's always one little thing that I discover each time. Seeing it on the big screen, with theater sound, I noticed quite a lot. Little bits of dialog that sounded drowned out on my TV came through loud and clear. And for the first time in my life, I realized that I need to upgrade to HD, because I saw things on the big screen that I would never had noticed on my crappy TV.

There's just something about seeing your favorite movie on the big screen for the first time. It made my Twizzlers taste sweeter, the Cherry Coke a little fizzier, the seat a little more comfortable. My life is richer having experienced this.

Fritschie, now available in healthy!

I haven't posted in a while, and the main reason for that is because I quit smoking. And, until I got used to the idea of not having a cigarette in my hand at any given moment, i had to detach myself from certain activities that lent themselves to the activity of chain-smoking, such as sitting at my computer for hours on end and goofing off on the internet. Hell, the average blog post wasted away at least a quarter of a pack of Camels. Little by little, I'm re-introducing those activities back into my life, always careful not to give into the temptation to run around the corner to QuikTrip for a fresh pack.

I've also adopted some new philosophies in my life, namely the idea that anything is bugging the living crap out of me at any given moment should be purged as quickly as possible... within reason, of course. Case in point, I cut off my long hair. I did that last Thursday. I went right up to the counter at the barber shop, looked the lady right in the eye, pointed at my hair and said, "Make this go bye-bye."

Her response, "Did your girlfriend put you up to this?" And her face kinda lit up when I told her I didn't have a girlfriend. But, I didn't take it any further than the haircut.

Another reason for not posting was that I didn't want to bore your guys with constant bitching about wanting a cigarette, which I firmly believe is why all of my previous attempts have failed.

In case you were wondering, here's a progress update: Doing great. It's been nearly two weeks on the patch, with Altoids and chewing gum for extra strong cravings...and if all else fails, I punch the cat. Fortunate for Chuckles, the cravings haven't been that strong. I also made sure that I got the name brand Nicoderm patches, and not the cheaper store-brand versions, whose dramatically lower price has me convinced they are nothing more than Scotch tape that's been licked by a three-pack-a-day smoker.

And I've only cheated once. Wait, I can explain:

On this past Tuesday, I left for work without putting on the Nicoderm patch. I tried to make it through the day without any nicotine in my system, but I couldn't. Work was too hectic to allow for me to run home for lunch and put on a fresh patch, and putting one on at night would've ensured a massive surge into my bloodstream too close to bedtime, and I've come to like my sleep. Plus, with the stress of my workload that day, it had come down to a choice between a cigarette or triple homicide. I actually only wanted to kill one person in particular, but... you know... there can't be any witnesses.

So, I bummed a smoke from my neighbor, and the head rush I got from the first drag led to me promising to name my first child after him. Sure, it tasted like hickory-smoked skunk hair, but it was soooooo worth it. That flood of precious carcinogens had my brain swimming, and I felt like I was kissing God. But, in the morning, I was back on the wagon. No harm, no foul.

I've also been transplanting that bad habit with a new, healthy one: I've been going for walks down at the River Parks. Granted, since getting my sense of smell back, walking around downstream from industrial plants with the low waterline leaving the nastiness fairly concentrated, hasn't been that much of a treat, but that has only helped quicken my pace a bit.

I started out small, a little over two miles per walk, but now I'm up to about five miles four to five times a week. It keeps my mind clear, and I've dropped a couple of pounds as a result. Once I drop a few more pounds, then I'll introduce a little jogging and running into the routine. I've also been capping off my walks with a few push-ups and ab crunches.

Walking around the River Parks have also afforded me new opportunities to witness some truly fucked-up things. For instance, there was the guy the other day who yelled at me to mind my own business because I happened to be walking past while he was fingering his girlfriend on a public park bench. I told him, "Sorry, pal, I didn't see the sign back there that said 'CAUTION: Dumbass reaching third base ahead'." Needless to say, at that moment, I quickly added wind sprints to my exercise routine to escape a thorough ass kicking.

There was also the impromptu recumbent-bicycle race I witnessed yesterday; five guys going as fast as they can on bikes that just screamed, "Why yes, I do work as a LINUX programmer! Why do you ask?"

Then there is the morbidly obese couple on the tandem bike that I see almost every time I go out there...really stretching the definition of the term bicycle-built-for-two. All I can do is just marvel at the tensile strength of bicycle frames nowadays.

Finally, and this is just an overall observation: What is truly great about the River Parks is that there are no real social mores in place here. Sure, everybody is really friendly, but looking at some of the things that go on there, I can't help but laugh at the thought that you can do pretty much anything you want, wear anything you want, as long as you make it look like you're getting some form of exercise. At any given moment, you might see some guy running in place, checking his pulse, with a lit cigarette in his hand. You might see a guy testing out his new homemade skateboard, which consists of a palette skid with furniture wheels nailed to it. I keep expecting to come across someone who sees absolutely no problem with practicing his javelin toss near the playground.

Yep, the River Parks...Comic goldmine.

I claimed this weekend in the name of Fritschie

THURSDAY

My mom came to visit me. We went out to eat at McNellies and had a blast. I made a futile attempt to pay for dinner, but Mom informed me that it's gonna still be a while before I could wrestle the check away from her. In retrospect, I should've put a couple more drinks on the tab, but hey...

FRIDAY

I took Friday morning off so Mom and I could settle the car loan at the bank. But first, we had breakfast at Blue Dome Diner, which is now becoming a tradition whenever Mom comes to town.

I'm all set up at my new bank. Once the checks and debit card are in my possession, I can bid farewell to BOK once and for all. Time for me to bank with people who give a shit about me.

Work in the afternoon was pretty light, and seemed to pass with no problems whatsoever. After work, I went to Target to pick up a few things, and wound up running into a couple friends of mine, so we went shopping together...also gave me a sneak preview of their birthday presents to me.

Treated myself to some Chinese food for dinner. Chicken Pad Thai is my new heroin lately. Then, off to Borders where I bought myself the Watchmen graphic novel. Never read it before, and I wanted to get a copy before they slapped the "Soon to be a major motion picture" label on it. Damn, this is this a good novel, and my expectations are really high now for the movie.

SATURDAY

Brunch with friends at Blue Dome, grocery shopping, and preparing for the party. We had a dive-in movie at Gene's mom's house. We had a screen set up over the pool, and we watched Jaws, the Life Aquatic, and Pirates of the Caribbean. I had an absolute blast with my friends, I grilled up some fantastic food, and got drunker than I have in recent memory.

About 2 a.m., just after we started watching Pirates, I got myself my eight or ninth shot of Jameson's. That's about when things started turning a wee bit fuzzy. I realized that my equilibrium was a bit off, so I decided to sit down. Just then, I had a strange feeling like I was the center of the universe, and by that I meant that everything around me started revolving, with my head being the axis point.

Gee, maybe lying down on the sofa would solve this. Then, the invisible weights were attached to my eyelids. Hard as I might, I could not hold them open. I wasn't asleep...I just couldn't keep my eyes open any longer. After a few minutes, or perhaps an hour Earth time, I became painfully aware of some urgent pressure on my bladder. I rushed myself to the bathroom to take care of the situation, mildly interrupted by knocks on the bathroom door from friends asking if I was alright. I was...just needed to pee really badly, and since it was bad enough that I knew I was gonna be passing out soon, I'd rather not have soiling furniture thrown into the mix.

So back to the sofa, where everything in my body completely shut down for routine maintenance...except for my sense of hearing and ability to understand words. I was incapable of reacting to such stimuli, but I could hear what my friends were doing, and ponder what it will be like to wake up in the morning. The last word I remember was "Sharpie".

SUNDAY

Woke up on the sofa, thankfully still clothed and magic-marker-free. However, I did have about thirty stuffed animals piled on top of me. I'm still unclear how so many stuffed animals became available to my friends the previous night, but i gotta give them all credit for originality.

I took a few minutes to get my bearings back, which was difficult with the four-alarm headache, stiff back and the feeling like the back of my throat had been sandblasted. I had a moment of panic when I couldn't find my camera. It was like, "Oh shit! Someone might have my camera, and by virtue of the digital format not only doesn't have to have the pictures developed, but they might already be plastered all over cyberspace."

I packed up my stuff and drove home, stopping at QuikTrip to get a tanker of Gatorade. I down 52 ounces of that stuff by the time I got home, and went straight back to bed.

I woke up around one, and felt much better; nothing a few dozen Tylenol and some caffeine couldn't cure. So, I went to Alisee Momo for the Tulsa Creative Network meeting, and my buddy Corey hooked me up with some grub and Pepsi. I stepped out for a smoke and wound up having to call an ambulance for a bum complaining of chest pains. Just to look at him, I think a little tightness in the chest was the least of his problems. There was sand and gravel stuck on his face, his clothes were ripped in various places, and it looked like he'd been doing some self-medicating and, as per usual with this practice, seriously got the dosage wrong.

Later, a bunch of us observed my birthday tradition: a movie. Namely, The Dark Knight at the IMAX. Pretty. Fucking. Sweet. This was my third time for this movie, and seeing it five stories tall just kicked ass. What a lovely way to finish up my birthday.

Now, I'm home and using up the last of my cigarettes. Tomorrow, I start off my 33rd year on this planet with nicotine patches and hopes to finally give my whitening toothpaste a fighting chance. Wish me luck.

Gotta love that new car smell

This weekend, I picked up my new car. It's a maroon '06 Chevy HHR, and oh, how I love it.

Perhaps my perspective is a bit askew, here. I've been driving a 2-ton pickup for a year and a half, with a tape deck, vinyl seats and no air conditioning. Now, I'm in a car with leather, A/C, CD player, sunroof, keyless entry, remote start...all the bells and whistles. I fear I'm going a little mad with power.

When I really think about it, the only perk the truck had over the new car was extra leg room. However, everything worthwhile in life requires a little bit of sacrifice.

I'm buying this car from my folks, or more to the point the BANK is buying from my folks and I'm buying it from the bank. This is my first major purchase in five years that wasn't a verbal contract. On the upside, this is gonna work wonders for my credit. On the downside, it's gonna be much harder to sweet-talk an extension from my debtors.

This means that the budget is gonna be stretched thinner than usual. I'm gonna try to float by for a few months with all of the perks I've grown accustomed to, like cable TV, name-brand cereal and a social life. One thing that's definitely gotta go is the smoking. I'm quitting on August 18, the day after my birthday.

Why not just quit now? Well, because I want to enjoy my birthday to its fullest without having to battle will power the whole frickin' day. Another reason is because i started smoking after a special occasion (Y2K, long story), and I'm gonna quit it after a big occasion. I also plan to quit with the same brand that i started with: Camel Red Lights. Yep, I'm that much of a graphic designer that I chose my brand of smokes by the cool packaging.

This is gonna be a trip; a life-changing experience. An exercise in discipline, and a long-overdue one. Let's see how this goes

Cars, boobs, beauty, Bub and bed

Tonight was Comedy Night at the Nightingale, and I did a killer five-minute set. I'm still a little buzzed from drinking four Red Bulls at the show (dear Lord, I need help), so I'm gonna be up for a little while.

So, here are the highlights of my week:

1. The plans are set for me to pick up the new car next weekend. My folks have the title in hand, and I need to fix a few things on the truck this week, get insurance set up, and have my folks sign and notorize the title. Then, I'll be good to go, and in debt again.

2. I did my usual Thursday night Guinness night at Arnie's Bar. I took my camera with me, and at some point in the night, a mystery woman took the camera and left me with a couple of breast shots. Two problems, though: First, I couldn't tell whose breast it was...even doing some CSI:Photoshop work couldn't solve the mystery. Second, and this is a note to those wishing to give a guy breast shots on his digital camera: Use the damned flash!

3. Last night was the Ms. Center of the Universe Pageant. I, and Personality of Cult by proxy, helped sponsor the show by designing the poster for the show. The show was great, and speaking as a guy who has worked with real pageants, they did a great job in mocking the process, and I'm looking forward to this being an annual event.

4. This morning, I got a message that my great-uncle Bub passed away. I'll have to check with my boss tomorrow and see if it would be possible to take off for the funeral. However, the truck may not be long-trip worthy until I can get the repairs done Thursday night. We'll see.

5. The Red Bull is finally wearing off, and now, I'm off to bed.

Help pick the January Midnight Movie at the Circle Cinema

We've got some great news, folks! Personality of Cult 2 has an opening date: January 30, 2009, which means this opening at the Circle Cinema also happens to be the night of the midnight movie!

Here's where you come in. You get to help us pick the midnight movie! Please vote in this poll:

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A weekend of muscle-twitching, teeth grinding fun and music

This weekend was D-Fest, Tulsa's huge arts and music festival. It's a good mix of local and visiting bands, lots of cool stuff to do, and it was tons of fun. And, Three Penny Upright scored me an artist's all-access pass.

Friday night was our night for fun. We saw Sir Threadius Mongus at the Continental, The Oh Johnny Girls and The Starkweather Boys at 1974. All great shows, and I'm so glad I went. The rest of the night I hung out with friends at the Nightingale Theater booth and more than abused my privileges at the artist's lounge, where there were complimentary snacks and more essential to my ability to get through the night, Red Bull.

Here-to-fore, I've never really liked Red Bull. I've felt that it tasted like strawberry soda that's been filtered through a mummy, with a color that suggests that it should never be seen outside of the can...kinda like taking a piss after a B-complex supplement. However, with them giving the stuff away, along with my want/need to stay out and party, I've changed my tone a bit. I think I downed about 5-6 over the course of the night (a couple of them with vodka), and Red Bull gave me the energy I needed to stay out until nearly four in the morning.

I could've kept going with a couple more, but when I felt the desire to ask for a needle and spoon with my next Red Bull, I decided to retire for the evening - or morning - at this point. Thankfully, I crashed from the stuff as soon as I got home, before the need to dismantle my electronics and clean the house with my mind set in.

I slept in until the afternoon on Saturday and headed back to D-Fest around four. Three Penny played at Tsunami at eight, and I went into my usual roadie mode, helping the band get checked in and set up. It was a special set for them, their last with their bass player Don, who's moving to Massachusetts next week. After the show, we walked around, checked out a few bands, had a few drinks. Sure enough, I had a few more Red Bulls. At one point in the evening, I think I got so hyper that my speech patterns devolved into Morse code, and I might, might have seen through time at one point.

By the way, when you've had a few Red Bulls, the last drink I recommend you throw in the mix is a White Russian. I'm pretty sure the chemical reaction in my stomach produced pure nitro-glycerine, but it soon transgressed into a feeling of calm and harmony with the universe. Everything was golden-hued, there was no more pain, and I marveled at the sight of everyone's auras.

I left around midnight to head to a pool party I had been invited to. Upon walking in the door, my buddy Tony commented on how I smelled "fruity", which meant that A) the Red Bull was escaping through my pores, and B) I'm really lousy at hiding new-found addictions.

Swimming was a fun way to end the night, even though it gave me a full-body hangover in the morning. But, a few aspirin and some methadone to calm the shakes and I was right as rain.

Today, I lounged around the house for a while and went to Don and Amber's going-away party. Good times, noodle salad. I'm sure gonna miss them.

Now, I'm back home and detoxing from the Red Bull. You know, a soda product shouldn't have this effect on the human body, nor should it garner a feeling of empathy for meth addicts. But on the up side, the chills I'm experiencing means I'm not wasting electricity on the air conditioner, and I'm typing reasonably well for a man shaking like an off-kilter Maytag. And now, I got to empty the puke bucket, hose myself off, get the dead baby off the ceiling and get some sleep.