Tuesday, October 26, 2004

Taking Donations for Psychiatric Help

So I took this quiz earlier today, and now I'm just getting around to posting the results, none of which are good. I'm actually fairly certain that I rate Moderate to High on anything that doesn't show such because, thinking back to when I took the survey, I think those questions were oddly phrased and the answers could have gone either way.

Schizoid:Very High
Histrionic:Very High

-- Personality Disorder Test - Take It! --

In any event, I'm going back to sleep, as I've got a bit of a day ahead of me, since I'm going to start writing down notes for my novel. I figure that, as long as I don't take it as seriously as I do some of my other writings (or lacks thereof), I should be able to haul through it in a month's time.

AIM: therbmcc71

NaNoWriMo, GTA, NFL, Other Assorted Acronyms

All right, so Lizzie's got it on her site, I think Complex Superior has mentioned it, so I guess that I ought to as well. November is National Novel Writing Month, and I think I'm going to write a novel. And I might be able to accomplish that goal, since Tarzhay cut back my hours until at least November or December. I've decided to go with a sort of absurd sci-fi novel; sort of like the movie Independence Day, but with the kind of tone that Peter David's Woad To Wuin was written in. For more information, hit NaNoWriMo's website.

Moving on, my friend Scott has just started playing the new Grand Theft Auto game, and it's already been slightly redeemed by the fact that Samuel L. Jackson is one of the voices. He's currently riding around on a bicycle, so I don't really have any sort of grasp on how good the soundtrack is yet. I can't see how it could be as good as the GTA: Vice City soundtrack, given that the 80's were to music what the 50's were to television; there are people who look back on it, smile, and are entertained by it, but they still know that it's bad. So San Andreas (the new GTA game) is supposed to have a soundtrack out of the 90's, which means I'll be listening to the ever-hilarious talk-radio station while driving around town.

At the moment, Scott is trying to get away from a drive-by shooting by escaping on a bike, and he's no idea where he's going. Somehow, he's managed to lose the guy that he's supposed to follow. Again, without a soundtrack, I'm not thoroughly impressed by Grand Theft Schwinn.

I've been notably absent from my own blog, partly due to the fact that I've been spending a lot of time in the city, and I don't have a computer up there that I can sit down at and ramble to my heart's content. The rest of the time, I'm feeling entirely uninspired, and I end up electing to go around the corner to Scott's house to play NFL 2K5 on his Xbox. I suppose one of these days I should bump up the difficulty level, since I'm playing with the Bears and I've been winning games with scores like 80-0. Unfortunately, I have no players on the team that are worth trading for a few decent cornerbacks who can actually intercept passes.

Okay, Scott's just jacked his first car, and the first song on the Radio X station is "Mother" by Danzig. Kick... Ass. This is then followed by Soundgarden's "Rusty Cage," which means that that soundtrack definitely has promise; or at least that particular station does. He changes the station, and I laugh my ass off as I hear the opening of "Motownphilly" by Boyz II Men. The station is changed again, and we've got "The Payback" by James Brown. Not too bad, but I'd have put "Sex Machine" on instead. The station changes again, and it's over to talk-radio. I'm too busy typing to pay much attention, but it's pretty damn funny for a moment.

And then he changes to the country music station. Now, by and large, I abhor country music, going so far as to refer to it as "possum rock." So the song, "Mamas, Don't Let Your Babies Grow Up To Be Cowboys" is playing, and I think it's the Waylon Jennings version; definitely not Willie Nelson. And, right at the end of the song, I get the best laugh of the day, and probably the week: The DJ gets on the air and -with her overacted southern drawl- says, "You know how to not let your babies grow up to be cowboys? Make him a castrato." I laugh my ass off and Scott's essentially clueless, not knowing what a castrato is.

The links of the day, you ask? If you're on broadband, I highly recommend "Old School Afternoon," which is actually funnier than the redubbed G.I. Joe public-service announcements (also available in the same area of heavy.com as "Old School Afternoon"). It's even funnier than the first part of Spider-Man Reviews Crayons, which I plugged a while back. And, since we have to get the requisite political spin into this series, here's an animation of how the new Florida Voting Machines will function on Election Day (1.7 megs, and worth every byte).

I find it remotely ironic that Scott's being pursued by the police right now (in the game, mind you) for jacking a car. And, of course, what's the song that just happens to be on the radio at that moment? That's right, it's Jane's Addiction's "Been Caught Stealing." Scott gets gunned down by the overzealous crackers we call po-leece just moments later. Bubba, I know what you're thinking, so preach on, brother! In the meantime, I'm going to put on a do-rag and laugh at Scott's in-game misfortunes.

AIM: therbmcc71

Tuesday, October 12, 2004

"I Can't Believe I'm Losing to This Guy."

I told my girlfriend that I was going to sleep about two hours ago, and probably would have achieved that end if not for the fact that I couldn't put down Mick Foley's second book, Foley is Good, and the Real World is Faker Than Wrestling. Is it as good as Have A Nice Day? I can't really answer that, but I do appreciate the fact that it's a bit more random in its storytelling, getting off on tangents that last about a page at a time.

So around three in the morning on Monday, I found out that Christopher Reeve had died sometime on Sunday. I then set to work on Fubar to write up a recommendation of various Christopher Reeve films in the Movies forum, which has since garnered about as much attention as a fart in a tornado. However, if something were to happen to Adam Sandler or even Rob Schneider, they would likely light candles and open a chat-room in some sort of bizarre e-vigil. In summary of those recommendations, go watch the first two Superman films, Somewhere in Time (which is actually just finishing up on AMC as I type this), Deathtrap, and Noises Off.

See, it was my grand plan to channel my comics knowledge and draw some kind of parallel between the "Death of Superman" storyline and the death of Christopher Reeve, in some sort of classically-Umgawa totally-overthought and overwrought "pretend it's an A.P. test prompt, you have fifty minutes, begin," kind of fashion. ... Actually, I think that there's a couple of ways of going about that, and it could work, but it's a pain in the ass and I'd rather just rip CD's.

So, just in the time that I've been sitting in front of my computer, contemplating whether and how I would go back to blogging, I've managed to rip the first Nerf Herder album; Alanis Morissette's Unplugged album; Let Go, by Nada Surf; The Rising, by Bruce Springsteen and the E-Street Band; currently ripping Achtung Baby, with Pete Droge's Necktie Second, the Apollo 13 soundtrack, and Toad the Wet Sprocket's Pale still in the queue.

So I've been working a lot lately, though by even using that combination of words, I'm apt to draw the ire of my girlfriend or my father, both of whom know what it is to work a lot. I didn't actually mean it like that; I'm merely saying that I was working enough to preclude updating this blog, since I'd much rather spend time with my girlfriend (even though that brings with it a rather long drive in the utter silence of my truck) or in front of my friend's Xbox, playing NFL 2K5, which is one hell of a slick presentation and makes me wonder why the Madden fanboys keep going to Electronic Arts for their yearly football fix when 2K5 costs twenty dollars to Madden's fifty.

I've decided to put off the whole Christopher Reeve part of the post until later; that I've stated this marks the death-knell for that particular subject, as is always the case when I say I'll get around to talking about some particular subject. In the rare event that I do get back to it, that'll be because I found that parallel that I wanted to draw between the deaths and lives of Superman and Christopher Reeve. Basically, it's got to be damn good, since it's going to have to make up for the sorry excuse that is the current post; the title of which goes back to a 1988 Saturday Night Live sketch in which G.H.W. Bush is in a debate with Michael Dukakis, in which Dana Carvey (as Bush) elaborates on his plan to build a time-machine to prevent the Soviets from launching a first-strike on the United States. When asked for comment, Jon Lovitz (as Dukakis) merely said, "I can't believe I'm losing to this guy."

It's a big election this year; so big, in fact, that my friend Scott, who has never taken the slightest interest in politics, registered to vote just before the deadline. Now, he's been saying that he's going to vote for Mickey Mouse, and his eyesight's so bad that he might end up voting for Pat Buchanan, along with all of those Floridian senior citizens, but at least he's getting involved. Me, I want to get the biggest Kerry-Edwards sign on earth and put it up in my front yard, which is flanked by Bush-Cheney signs. I think that lighting the Kerry sign at night would be a nice addition, as would bear-traps on the ground around it (so as to prevent any vandalism, and possibly prevent the vandals from reaching the polls on election day).

In closing, I watched Fahrenheit 9/11 over the weekend, and I came to the surprising conclusion that it's a bit too focused. I mean, it really doesn't do much if you already think that George Bush is the Anti-Christ, and that the Saudis are not our friends, and that Halliburton did have the right guy in the right place at the right time. All of that aside, I finished the movie and actually really tried to like it a lot, but it's just no Bowling for Columbine, which was sometimes absurdly fun and other times would make grown men weep like a girl with a skinned knee. While watching Fahrenheit 9/11, there were only two thoughts that went through my head:
  • How deep does this rabbit hole go?
  • God, I fucking hate George Bush; I hope the Packers whip the shit out of the Redskins.
That second one's almost two thoughts, but they both concern the same thing, given that -since 1944- the election of every president has been determined by the outcome of a football game. By and large, I'd say this was coincidence, but this is fifteen straight election cycles we're talking about, and it's a hell of a lot less vague than Nostradamus. Unfortunately, given how the Packers played tonight, it's looking like another four more wars of Bush. Er, years, I mean ... kind of, not really.

Anyway, now it's time for bed. In the event that it's a while until my next post, that is because I have no doubt that I've violated about ten different statutes of the Patriot Act by criticizing Mister Bush and generally exercising free-speech, and therefore the FBI will probably be taking me off to an internment facility until just after election day.

AIM: therbmcc71