Monday, August 30, 2004

Alien 3 Script Reviews

I just stumbled across this and it fit well with my previous post

Script Review by Justin Clark -- Alien 3


I'm back. I guess. Let's see... funny... funny... hmmm.

Well, this is kind of funny. My brother Trevor had some free movie passes and he insisted we go see "Alien Vs. Predator" last night. I tried everything I could to talk him into seeing something, ANYTHING else. Rotten Tomatoes has it ranked at 21% rotten. I had also read Mr. Negative's review of the movie and made Trevor read it as well before we left for the theater. Nothing I did would change his mind.

After we got the tickets and went inside we still had about 3o minutes to kill, so we wandered around looking at the posters for upcoming movies, discussing how even the worst of them would probably be better than what we were about to see, and I was contemplating ducking into nearly any other movie.

I was seriously pissed when I saw that they were also showing "Hero" (95%!). We HAVE to see that next weekend.

I was amused, however to see that they were doubling up "Princess Diaries 2: Royal Engagement" (30%) with "Exorcist: The Beginning" (10%). A better paring might have been "Exorcist" with "The Passion of the Christ" though. Just a thought.

The only time I was able to shake his confidence in seeing AvP was after we had fought our way through the crowds and found some seats way in the back (Sarcasm. There were two other people in the theater when we finally sat down. Although they DID manage to sit in the row that I prefer. Bastards.) Trevor was saying that it couldn't be as bad as they are saying, because it's Aliens! And Predators! I reminded him of how he had rented and watched "Battlefield Earth". And then I grinned. But then he went on an inane tangent about how I still had to watch that as well so I could share in his suffering, to which I replied, "Um. No. Sorry."

During the slideshow and shit-music section of the evening that always precedes the commercials and previews the same slide ran twice and I told Trevor that it was a hiccup in the Matrix. They had rewritten the program and now we were trapped in there. All exits are blocked. We were doomed. He was amused. Then the movie started.

Okay, not really. The commercials started. The first was that stupid cell phone ad where the idiots are singing. And the second was that REALLY irritating Mazda ad where all these mid-20's people (of various genders and race, but mostly white) who are doing fun, expensive yuppie shit get a cell phone/pager buzz (zoom-vroom-boom) that calls them all away from the fun to go do happy donuts in the desert. Yeah. I hate that one. Seen it twice. Want to meet the guy who thought of it and kick him hard in the goodies. There may have been another commercial before the previews started, but if so I missed it through my blinding hatred of Mazda's ad agency.

Oh...wait. There WAS another commercial. It was so bad my mind tried to erase all memory of it. It was for Coke C2. It was a worse ad than the last Coke C2 ad I saw (at the movies). In this one there are a bunch of my generation of people and older doing REALLY stupid shit out of sheer joy for a cola product. Why is it that the mid-20's all get to have expensive fun and do donuts while the mid-30's just get to flop around and twitch like electrified retards? At WORK no less! Those kids get to slack and we STILL have to work while we look stupid! I take offense to that. It makes me not want to try their product just out of spite. So. Um. There! I hope the same person came up with both this ad and the Mazda ad. It will save me some kicking and travel time.

Then the previews came on. Some were good, some were not. It's all a blur. Then the movie started.

I'm not going to recap the movie. Let's just say it wasn't eye shredding bad. It had a fair number of plot holes and dialog issues, but the fight scenes were done quite well and the humans dropped like flies. Except for that one that didn't die. Oh, she SHOULD have died. Especially with the tagline "No matter who wins, we lose!" Lying fuckers. I will say that I would be willing to watch this movie any time over "Alien 3" again. But then I would almost be willing to watch "Frogs" again over "Alien 3".

And it has almost worked up my courage to rent and see "Ballistic: Ecks vs. Sever" (1%... that's right. 1%). If I ever do, I'll let you know how that goes.

Thursday, August 26, 2004

This is the busiest...

...stay at home vacation I think I've ever had in my life. I am getting a lot accomplished, but nothing for here. No comic or card in the works, no storytelling game tallying or new one started, nothing even remotely funny to say.

I did think of one thing that I knew would be funny, then I promptly forgot about it. That was on Saturday. I haven't been able to remember it since. Brain still broken.

So, my apologies to anyone who was expecting better from me, and my congratulations to everyone who knew better than to expect anything.

That having been said, I MIGHT have something by Sunday. But don't bet the farm on it.

Friday, August 20, 2004 what now?

Okay, I'm out of funny. Not sure why. I thought I still had some in a desk drawer somewhere, but nope. It's almost as embarrassing and inconvenient as running out of toilet paper when guests are over for a chili dinner. Only it's IN MY HEAD!

Perhaps it's because I'm looking forward to being off from work next week and having trouble focusing on anything else. Or because I'm sleepy and having trouble focusing on anything else. Or I'm having trouble focusing on anything else just because. I have no idea.

So rather than take up anymore valuable internet space with this pointless babble, I will send you to someplace that is both wrong and funny (sorry Jenn).

Explore it this weekend. Share it with your friends and neighbors. Discuss it among yourselves. There will be a quiz later.

The Scout Walker Kama Sutra

You all have a good weekend and I will see if I can find some time in the coming week to put together a half-assed comic. Or card. Or... you know. Something half-assed.

This post is for...


Monkeys and stuff.

I hope you are having a fun week with your guests. And I hope you see this before it drops off the page. Although there is little fear of that since I doubt I'll have anything more to say until the new creative block I have comes tumbling down.

Thursday, August 19, 2004

And one more quickie...

The Cult of Mac Blog

For all the mac users who visit my site. I know who you are. Yeah. You in the back. You can't hide from MEEEEEE!

This and that last one...

...come from Mike Houser' blog at CasdraBlog. An interesting place that is going to into my rotation. Like I don't have enough in my list.

WORDCOUNT / Tracking the Way We Use Language /

A fun online flash game.

The Skeleton Shop


Wednesday, August 18, 2004

Another Tale of Childhood Stupidity!

I'll try to keep this one short. Short and squirmy. When I was 9 (again) my mom was in the kitchen talking on the phone with a friend and I was sitting on the steps to the upstairs area being bored.

My uncle, the one who recommended amputation for the dangly turtle problem, had given me some exercise stuff. I was a scrawny kid, and tended to get picked on a bit (okay, a lot) and he thought that "working out" would help me. He gave me an old pair of boxing gloves, a few karate magazines and... I don't know the name for it... it's one of those things made from two handles with three bungie style cords between them. The idea is you stretch them apart and it builds up your chest muscles. I had a different idea. A stupid idea.

I was sitting on the stairs, idly playing around with this thing in a fashion not intended by its makers. What I was doing was this. I put one handle around my knee and was pulling the other handle as hard as I could with both of my hands. While sitting.

My mom noticed what I was doing and she had just opened her mouth to tell me to cut it out when the handle slipped off of my knee. I realize at this point that I failed to mention a key detail in the description of this "thing". The cords were attached to the handles by coiled springs. Springs that had pointy bits at the ends.

The handle that had been on my knee smacked me across the face and knocked me backward onto the stairs. I was dazed, my head was pounding and I think I recall my mom yelling "OH MY GOD!" I thought, "I'm alright." But I was wrong. Very wrong.

When I opened my eyes I saw my mom had dropped the phone and was rushing toward me with a horrified expression on her face. And then I felt the torrent of blood that had started to poor from my eye. I FREAKED! She grabbed me and ran me up to the bathroom at the top of the stairs and I remember seeing the trail of blood that I was leaving on the carpet, and feeling bad for making a mess.

About the time she had me bent over the sink the pain in my eye had begun. I was watching my blood swirl down the drain while my mom asked me if I could still see from that eye at all. I thought I was going to die.

She got the bleeding under control and she rushed me to the Peterson Air Force Base hospital (My dad was a retired SMSgt.). We sat in the waiting area for a bit with a bloody cloth pressed to my head. Finally a doctor took me into another room and checked out the wound. The eye was okay, but the gash in my eyelid needed stitches.

I didn't know anything about the ranking in the Air Force at the time, but I'm quite sure it was at most an A1C that put in the stitches. And he was lit. Totally high. I must have interrupted is pot break.

So, here I am a 9 year old kid who had just gone through a hell of a lot for one night, and here is this unfocused pothead coming at my face with a needle and thread. I didn't know at the time what drugs were. I just knew that he wasn't quite right. So, I start screaming and trying to get away. He grabbed me by the arm and hissed, "Settle down kid or I'll sew your eyelid to your cheek." I settled down.

SOMEHOW he managed to not fuck up. It was somewhere around 4-6 stitches, if I recall correctly. It looked like I had a prickly caterpillar on my eye. And these were the "old school" stitches. The ones that, at some point down the line, have to be removed. They don't just dissolve.

Fortunately, I didn't have the pot head take them out when the time came. Unfortunately, the doctor was only able to get a couple of them out with the snips. The doper put them in too tight. She informed me that she was going to have to use a scalpel to cut the remaining ones so she could remove them.

I said, "Leave them in!", but no dice.

I was scared to death that my eye was going to be cut all over again, but it worked out okay. I can't recommend having someone come to your eye with a razor sharp knife though, no matter how good their intentions.

Tuesday, August 17, 2004

Where have all the brain cells gone...

Okay, I don't do drugs. I've never done drugs. Until I was a teenager I would gag on aspirin and still to this day despise needles and smoking. I have various reasons for this anti-drug attitude that I may go into at some point.

That having been said I should confess that on occasion I have done chemicals. Not intentionally though. Mostly through stupidity. But still, I have to wonder what they have messed up in me.

Two incidents of chemical abuse stand out in my mind, but I'm sure there have been others. I just don't remember them. That part of my brain is missing, presumed dead.

The first was when I was 9-ish (again) and still living at the house where I had the turtle. How I made it to 10 I have no idea.

One day a bored friend* and I discovered that the powdered weed killer my dad kept in the garage, when tossed by the handful onto the ground, left behind particles in the air that look somewhat like an explosion occurred. This was deemed "neat!" So we started to have weed killer wars. We each took a bag to different sides of the garage and threw the stuff at each other by the hand full. This was "fun!"

The air started to get a bit thick after a while, so we did what any sane 9-year-old kids would do. That's right. We climbed up into the rafters and played "Bombers Over Europe!" After that it's all a blur. Neither of us fell from the rafters, amazingly. And somehow we must have kept enough brain cells undamaged to do a good clean up job because I don't recall getting caught. I do however recall the strange taste in my mouth that persisted for a very long time.

So there you go. 70's weed killer. In my system.

The other incident occurred during my tour of duty in England (RAF Upper Hayford : ’88-’90 : PMEL). It was my first duty assignment and I was assigned to the K6 section. That was the Physical/Dimensional area. In spite of my extremely high electronics testing score all through tech school this is where I was put, and stayed for my entire time in the Air Force. There is virtually no electronics in that department. But there ARE pressure gages that needed calibration. And cleaning. The cleaner of choice was TRICHLOROTRIFLUOROETHANE We called it "Trike" for short. Also known as Freon. I will say this, it's fun to play with. But DAMN were we stupid when we played.

See, I was 19 then, and still considered myself to be immortal. Well, not exactly immortal. I had an overwhelming feeling that I was going to be dead by the age of 25. So I wasn't as careful as I should have been, and the mutants I worked with didn't do much to teach me the important skills of chemical handling. My training was electronics. What the hell did I know about chemicals?

We had these little water bottles that the trike was kept in for ease of use. It had a bent straw so that you could squeeze it into a pressure gage, or across a surface to clean it. Or, you could have running freon fights through the clean room. Or put a puddle of it in a fellow airman's chair. You know. Whatever was most needed at the time.

When the trike hit skin it would tingle, be absorbed and leave the skin it had touched a white color for a bit. One of the airmen, when she was bored, would dribble it over the same patch of skin on her hand until she couldn't take it anymore. She was odd.

The turning point for me was when I had to go to the hazardous materials room to refill the big can of trike that was normally kept in the K6 room and used to refill the small bottles. The big refill barrel was low. So I balanced the can I needed to fill on my knee and tipped the barrel forward. Easily a gallon of the stuff rushed forward and drenched my left arm from my hand to my elbow and my entire left leg. That was my wake up call. It did NOT feel good! I figured that I had absorbed far more of that crap than was healthy.

It was after that that I took a keen interest in looking the stuff up in the MSDS and finding out what the long term effects of the stuff was. All in all, it doesn't look too good for my liver.

So, now I am far more careful around chemicals, to the point of not even messing with them unless I absolutely have to.

And I still don't do drugs.

*This same friend and I had an interest in my dad's gun bench. My dad would save his shell casings when he went shooting, then cast his own bullets, replace the primers, assemble the cartridges and there he goes. Cheap(er) ammo.

One day I took a box of primers and a hammer and met up with my friend on the footbridge next to my house. I was a latchkey kid, so I didn't have to worry about being caught right away. I had already done this a few times on my own.

Again, around age 9.

What I would do is take a primer, place it on the cement and smash it with a hammer. This would make it go *bang!*, somewhat like a gunshot, and it would echo around the neighborhood. For anyone who doesn't know, the primer is what the firing pin of a gun hits, which then explodes into the casing through a tiny hole, igniting the gunpowder and expelling the bullet down the barrel. The primer itself is only a tiny explosion compared to the gunpowder. Hence, primer.

This time my friend was with me and he was BEGGING me to let him smash one. I was reluctant to do so because he was a bit spastic when excited and I had a good idea of what I was doing and a lot more practice at it. But then he pulled the 'I won't be your friend any more" card, so I let him. I stepped back. He put down the primer, raised the hammer, smacked it down *BANG!* and then grabbed his head and started screaming.

When I got him to settle down I looked at his forehead. He had a half moon cut on his head where the primer casing leaped up after exploding and nailed him in the head. He ran home in a panic and crying, afraid that he was now brain damaged. Needless to say, the jig was up. I got in trouble and I learned many lessons that day. And I'm keeping them to myself.

I just might have to get this.


Both of my bathroom sinks drain very slowly and nothing I've used works to clear it. Mark Frauenfelder over at Boing Boing gave a rather convincing testimonial as to its effectiveness. It just may be worth a shot, with the exception of the shower of gray grime.

The only thing that concerns me is that I have no way of removing the stopper and it looks like you need to be able to do that to allow maximum air flow.

Of course I DO live in an apartment so I could make them come and fix it, but I REALLY hate having people I don't know come through my house. It's quite the dilemma.

Monday, August 16, 2004


I spent a bit of time tonight trying out Blogger's [NEXT BLOG>>] button. Just hopping randomly around the blog-o-sphere. Well, Blogger's part of it at least. So if you've never heard of me and I appeared in your blog's stats and you are wondering why I visited, then wonder no more. The button brought me! Blame the button.

The Turtles

One of my coworkers, Scott, told us that his sister-in-law has the intentions of getting a pair of turtles for his son's birthday. I suppose he *is* too young for a pair of hookers, but turtles? I don't know. It brought to mind a horrible childhood memory. Of turtles. Not hookers.

When I was 9-ish we found a turtle on the side of the road. I'm not sure what kind it was. I think it was either a box turtle, a snapping turtle, or a fucking evil turtle. I tend to lean toward fucking evil.

I'm not exactly sure who was the individual that was instrumental in determining that we should bring this evil little reptile menace home and keep it as a pet, but I think it might have been me.

Apparently when I was even younger we had a turtle that escaped by wandering out of the open gate. I wish I had that getaway on film. Apparently I was sad (understatement) and this was seen as a way to make things right. Here's a tip. Don't try to make things right. Just let it be.

So we took him home and my dad put together a turtle pen using three boards and the side of the house. It worked. It stymied all escape attempts. It's not like he could jump out.

I was enthralled. I would watch him for hours. Like there was ANYTHING else to do. This was back in the day of three television stations and one PBS station, and I lacked a car and cash.

So I would stare at this turtle until it was time to feed him. He ate raw liver. How this was determined to be a good diet for an evil turtle, I don't know. I think a book may have been involved (find out more about this fun fact and many others at your local library!). He also liked fruit, but he LOVED the raw liver.

He would come out of his shell to eat the raw liver.

I fed him by hand.

I *thought* he was my friend.

It turned out he was EVIL! Evil with a long neck!

One day he came out of his shell about an inch further to scarf down the liver and latched on to my finger. About an inch of my finger. If it didn't hurt so bad I could have probably poked his brain.

I immediately started wailing and crying. I tried to swing him off but THAT wasn't a good idea. He had a freaking death grip on my finger and if he was going to go flying he would take my finger with him!

My mom heard the shrieks of pain and ran out to see what had happened. She didn't panic (I think this incident occurred after the infamous "cutting my eyelid open" thing that I will write about some other time) too much. As I recall. She hurried me in to the kitchen and my uncle who was visiting took one look at the situation and proclaimed, "It'll never let go. You're going to have to cut it's head off."

Okay, another tip: unless your goal is to totally freak out a child, don't tell them that something is NEVER going to let go, and don't mention home surgery.

My first thought was that I was going to go through the rest of my life with a turtle on my finger. I was hoping that I would eventually get used to the pain.

THEN I considered the possibility of my mom sawing through my pet (evil) turtle's neck with a serrated kitchen knife while I looked into his eyes. And then I thought, "What if she saws through my finger?"

So yeah, I started screaming even louder. For which I'm sure my mom was very grateful to her brother. She took me over to the kitchen sink, and I figured, "That's it. She's getting the knife." Instead, however, she held my finger and the dangling turtle under running water. It took about a minute but the little bastard let go and fell into the sink.

I looked at my finger expecting to see a bloody mess, but instead there was a dark, deep 'V' shaped indentation on both sides of my finger, and it was throbbing. The turtle was also just fine. Of course.

My mom put him back in his pen and I never tried to feed him by hand again. All liver went on a plate and was dropped in the corner furthest from wherever he was at the time.

Eventually he escaped by digging his way under a corner of the boards.

I was a little sad about this, because even though he was evil, he was MY evil dammit! I had plans of using him against my enemies some day.

So... Good luck with the whole "pair-of-turtles" gift thing there Scott. Better you than me.

Friday, August 13, 2004

Okay. Yeesh. My skin's crawling now.

480-pound woman dies after six years on couch

And there you go. Just reading that made me want to stand up and go take a shower. Perhaps exercise a bit. Urgh. Enjoy.

Isn't technology grand?

Seeing my scan from 1997 of my Brahminy Kite drawing motivated me to dig it back out and try it on a modern day (2003) scanner that we have at work. It worked like a charm. So, I've gone from being totally unable to duplicate it in 1993, to sort of being able to duplicate it, but without the color (due to computer memory limitations and hard drive size limitations) in 1997 to a close to perfect scan in 2004.

If we actually had a top of the line printer it probably would be a perfect reproduction. As it is though I'm happy.

Here is the new scan and a close up of the head showing a portion of the work that went into it. I said before that I used two colors of ink. In looking at it closer I recalled that I used three colors of ink. I know, HUGE difference, but still.

Thursday, August 12, 2004

Bitin' Derek's Rhymes

I found a little time capsule stashed in a corner of my computer. This particular capsule is dated from 1997.

I would have been working at the Gazette at that time. Then when I left the Gazette I filled a couple of floppies with the things I wanted to keep, put them on this computer when I got here and then forgot about them.

And now I found them. Since I have nothing better to share with you today, here you go (And yes, this is totally ripping off Derek, except his are even older. And he is holding out on you.)...

I'll lead off with a few drawings that I did for some ads. this was back in 1997, if you recall. There wasn't a lot of full color artwork used in ads at that time. It was still quite expensive.

The first are three kids that were done for...I have no freaking idea anymore. But here you go.

And this is a hail damaged car. Back when EVERYTHING I did for work didn't have to involve cars.

Then, once when I had some time to mess around with drawing with a mouse at work I made this. It's also in greyscale because color files took up a lot more room and we had teenie-tiney hard drives with very little room for personal crap. I like the face, HATE the lamp. Needless to say, it looks like it was drawn with a mouse.

This was artwork for an anti-speeding poster that I was putting together to give to my son's school. They didn't ask for it, I was just pissed at all of the people that were speeding through the school zone, so I figured since I *could* do it, I might as well do it. Then I chickened out and never gave it to them. Probably just as well. It was dated from 1999, which would have been Kindergarten age.

This was just a quick dog sketch that I drew and liked. I was using it to sign my ad proofs at the Gazette for quite awhile.

And lastly, this is a scan of a drawing that I did while still in art school (RMCAD). It was for our big, final project in Animal Anatomy. It was done using a Rapidograph pen, 2 colors of ink on a textured paper that didn't scan for crap (at least in 1997). It was done in stipple style and took close to 20 hours to complete to my satisfaction. My instructor liked it so much that he tapped it to be put into the (required) yearly student art show. It took Gold in the Illustration category. Commercially I consider it a failure. It can't be reproduced worth a damn and the paper that I drew it on was some scrap stuff I had that I liked the look of (I was a very impoverished art student). It's not acid free so in time it will be gone. But I loved how it turned out. I look at it and am amazed that I actually made it.

MetalQuiz v2.0

MetalQuiz v2.0

This is for Andy and anyone else that would like to know how they would rank in their Metal Knowledge. Me? Not a chance in hell.

Wednesday, August 11, 2004

music (for robots)

music (for robots)

Um. More music.

I should let you all know that strange music is a bit of a hobby of mine. I like it. Half the time when Derek is listening to something that people walking through the department ask, "What the...?" he replies with, "I got it from Collin."

Anyway, all last year (2003) Otis Fodder ran the 365-Days project where he was posting one song a day for the entire year. Halfway through January of this year the links were closed down, so if you didn't get it then you would have to do some looking.

Well, it seems that there is a place to go now to get the songs in a very organized fashion. Here it is. Some of them are very good, some are very weird, and a lot are VERY bad. But they are free. And a lot of the stories about the songs are interesting.

Otis also runs Comfort Stand Recordings: "a community-driven label where all releases are free with artwork and liner notes. We strive to bring you recordings that we find interesting, compelling and downright enjoyable. Everybody needs free music." And their catalog is really growing. I can't vouch for all of it, but I REALLY liked their first offering Two Zombies Later

And, as long as I'm pimping for free music that I find interesting, take a look at Mark Maynard's band (well, okay, all of the members' band) "The Monkey Power Trio": "The Monkey Power Trio only plays one day a year.
On that day, they only work for a few hours.
In that time, they somehow always manage to create works of inspired genius."

All of their music can be downloaded from their site, but if you own a turntable you REALLY should buy the actual albums.

I'm TRYING to assemble a video for their song "Someday We'll Reach the Moon", but my current level of Flash skills are lacking... in skill. I'm starting to feel like Anthony Michael Hall in the Breakfast Club when he's talking about his elephant lamp project. "It looked easy, but when I pulled on the thing it didn't work..." But the art looks good. I think.

I was supposed to be done a long damn time ago. So if any of my visitors happen to have the skills, the time and the interest to help out with getting this video done and in Mark's hands, please let me know.

And that's it for today. Have fun everyone!

Talk about timing! News - Latest News - Go-Ahead for Researchers to Clone Human Embryos

I saw this story on Boing Boing this morning. The Jesi army is on the horizon!

Okay, perhaps not. But still. Have any of you seen the South Park episode with Christopher Reeve and the embryos?

I need caffeine!

Tuesday, August 10, 2004

I'm sitting here tonight... my computer at home for the first time in weeks, trying to get caught up on stuff. And such. And my daughter is putting blankets across my back. Finally, she steps back a bit and says, "There. You look wonderful at last!"

Um. Thanks sweetie. Glad to hear it.

Jurassic Jesus


It was announced today that scientists in Scotland had discovered residual DNA embedded in the Shroud of Turin and have been attempting to recreate Jesus through cloning.

They are being financed by a reclusive multi-millionaire who is planning to open a Jesus based theme park in Huntsville, Alabama upon successful completion of the cloning project.

It is uncertain at this time, however, how many Jesus he is planning to create for the park. One unnamed source stated that there will be, "at least enough to take turns on the cross and operate the refreshment stands." Speculation hovers around 20.

One concern, apart from the ethical and theological problems that cloning Jesus 20 times over would raise, is how they plan to get 20 Jesus into the country.

It is uncertain how airport security would react to 20 identical men of Middle Eastern descent entering the country under Scottish passports and each claiming to be Jesus. Some disbelief or outright hostility may be encountered.

A high ranking church official observed, "They could walk from Scotland, I suppose. Or Canada. However both options carry an amount of risk that shouldn't be taken lightly. Like encountering sharks. Or Canadians. At the very least they would be considered illegal immigrants, and that would be unfortunate."

When asked for his opinion on the situation, actor Jeff Goldblum replied, "Are they insane? Haven't they seen the movies? What will happen if even one of the Jesus escapes from the park? Think of the havoc he could wreak before he was brought down! It's madness dammit! Sheer madness!"

Donald Chambers, head of research on the Jesus Project, assured this reporter that they did, in fact learn from the Steven Spielberg blockbuster 'Jurassic Park' movies.

"First off we didn't use frog DNA to fill in the missing holes in the Jesus DNA. We used rabbit DNA. The thinking behind this was twofold. First, there isn't a rabbit alive that can successfully breed with itself. If there was, it would and we would know about it. And second, bunnies aren't dangerous. Even in groups of 20 or more.

"Also, we picked up a tip from another movie: The Running Man. Every Jesus at the park will be equipped with an explosive neck collar. If they pass the boundary of the park, *BANG!* No problem.

"And lastly there will be crack snipers above each exit keeping an eye out for escaping Jesus. So. Hippies be warned, don't come to the park dressed in loincloths.

"So as you can see, we have everything well in hand. It would take a miracle for even one to escape."

This reporter remains skeptical.

Pretty much the only funny thing about this is about a year or so ago the Shroud of Turin was under a fair amount of scrutiny as to its authenticity. I was joking with my brother Trevor along the same lines as this bulk of this post (they were trying to clone Jesus from a human hair found on the Shroud) and he thought it was VERY funny. So funny that he presented it to our mom as true.

She bought it until he got to the part about the theme park.

Jenn - I have seized control! Round 9 is on!

Jenn started the newest round of writing and the words were provided by last round's winner JayJay. And they are very interesting. Check it out. Write a story. Dazzle us with your skills!

Book extract: How To Be Idle by Tom Hodgkinson

I think I want this book.

Monday, August 09, 2004

Happiness is a Warm Gun

A post! I know. Do a little dance. I'll wait...

Today for lunch I asked my coworkers where I should go. The only person to really offer up a suggestion was Derek. He said, "Go to QDoba!" and Scott (another coworker) agreed. He pointed out that what used to be a once or twice a week trip to QDoba for lunch had turned into a next to never thing.

So I went to Chipotle. Derek gave me hell when I got back, "Oh! I see how it is! I tell you to go to QDoba and you go to Chipotle." to which the only response I could offer was, "Yep."

Mainly I went to Chipotle because, even though it has been awhile since we had gone there from work, I had been there somewhat recently. And it had been a lot longer since I had gone to Chipotle. You may be thinking, "A burrito is a burrito. Big whoop." but there is a difference and I was feeling a bit more Chiplotle-ie today.

What does all this have to do with anything? Nothing! Not really. Except to set location and help use up my daily requirement of keystrokes.

Near Chipotle is Sears and I realized as I was driving there that it had been awhile since I last posted a payment to my credit card. So I figured I should do that as well.

Then on the drive there I passed Baskin Robbins and a Chocolate Blast sounded really good so I decided I would stop and get one on the way back.

The Baskin Robbins on 8th Street is a bit on the rundown side of good. It's in a grungy looking strip mall that just screams, "Yargh." But hey, the ice cream there has never killed me and I've so far managed to get free of the grunge before it has consumed me. So yay.

So while I was waiting for the counterperson (Waitress? Hostess? Ice Cream Slave? I dunno) to make the Blast I disconnected my mind and took in the decor that is around the cash register.

One thing I noticed was a craft cross. I don't know the exact name for this craft. I know my mom was a member of the cult and it's pretty popular. It involves white plastic shapes with holes in them and yarn running through the holes. Cross stitch perhaps? That would make it a cross stitch cross. Hmmm...

Nothing about this cross was terribly memorable except that it triggered a sequence of thoughts that I doubt was unique to me. I have a feeling that I heard a comedian talking about something similar once and it just hung around in the back of my mind like a little homeless squatter, waiting to be evicted by the cops or by fire. There's a lot of those little ...things... back there.

The thought (once I dragged it out into the light and beat it soundly for being indigent) was this: If guns had been around during the time of Christ's crucifixion, and he was killed by a firing squad instead of being left to die on the cross, what would be the symbol that the faithful would put on their walls? A smaller wall perhaps? With Jesus standing there in a blindfold with a look of apprehensive anticipation on his face?

It would certainly be more difficult to convert into a recognizable icon (A little square with a hole in the middle maybe). Not to mention a yarn craft work. And think of what it would do to tattoos. And graffiti.

I'm almost certain that was a thought that George Carlin had mentioned wondering about before, but I'm not positive.

And that's basically all I have for now. Something that someone else most likely thought about once quite a while ago. I should be in politics. Have a good day!

Friday, August 06, 2004

The Problems Of The Future, Today!

For my final post of the day I present to you (by a roundabout way thanks to Mark Maynard) this: Animation stuff.

Stay alert! Trust no one! Keep your laser handy!

If that title means anything to you and brings back any fond memories then you may find this interesting.

The roleplaying game Paranoia has been updated and is set to be released soon! Wheeeeee!

Even if you could care less about gaming, this is a very fun game to try out. It can get pretty chaotic with a fun group of people. And now it seems it's even better. I can't wait!

Not a real post! Wheeee!

Check this game out.

There's a pc version and a mac version. It's almost as much fun to play around with as the mac only Sproing.

And....that's it. I'm so boring lately. Later I'll post about the family train trip we went on this past Monday.

Sunday, August 01, 2004

"Boring a hole in the patient’s head creates a door through which the demons can escape, and - viola! - out goes the crazy."