Saturday, July 28, 2007

More Stuff You Need To Know: Mercs in Iraq



The other day my mother and I forgot our unspoken rule to not discuss politics, since she's so screamingly wrong about most of it.(just kidding, Mom) And, of course, the subject of The Shrub Prince's little skirmish came up. To her credit, she admits that the war was a mistake, but we disagree on what to do now. Personally I'm beginning to think that an immediate, albeit phased, withdrawal cannot possibly make matters worse over there, and might just remove the major rallying point around which all two dozen factions are gathered...namely us. She said that a US pull-out would leave the area in shambles, and I said that there are more than enough mercenaries there to take care of things for quite some time. She looked at me like I had just said that Scooby Doo and a battalion of muppets were on duty there, and asked me just where I had heard that particular bit of BS. Unfortunately my main source for that was The Daily Show, but only those of us who watch it know that it's not all jokes. So, in all fairness to fairness, here is some actual research into the merc situation.

In March, 2004, The Age.com reported that the Pentagon hired the Blackwater company, whose antics in post-Katrina New Orleans were less than thrilling, to hire commandos to augment the security around oil fields in Iraq, and add to the nearly 10,000 private soldiers already in the country.

In January of 2007, Jeremy Scahill, author of "Blackwater: The Rise of the World's Most Powerful Mercenary Army." wrote in the LA Times that there were approximately 100,000 'civilian contractors' in Iraq, 48,000 of whom were working as 'private soldiers.' The going rate for a merc in Iraq can be as high as $1,000 per day, which is a great deal more than PFC John Q. Public makes.

On June 4, 2007, Commondreams.org reported that Britain had 21,000 mercs working in Iraq, and that Paul Bremer, upon leaving the post of Coalition Provisional Authority enacted Order 17 which effectively exempts anyone but Iraqis from prosecution under Iraqi laws. This has given the mercs wide latitude in their actions, some of which have been less than honorable. In fact, some would call them war crimes.

Ok, here's the part where I tell you my opinion of this whole mess. Regular visitors here know that I have been against this war since long before it began. In my opinion Saddam Hussein was never a threat to anyone but his own people, and maybe Kuwait, and we had no business going into Iraq in the first place. That being said, however, since we are now up to our eyeballs in this dung heap Bush has created, I say let the professionals fight it out, and bring our soldiers, airmen, marines, and sailors home. Mercenaries have been around since Og the Tiny offered Tonda the Hirsute and extra mammoth haunch to hit Eegah the Obnoxious with a rock that night after sundown. I know our military is all volunteer now, and they know what they are getting into when they enlist, but many do so out of a sense of patriotic idealism, and it is patently unfair to ask them to die in a war that, rather than increase US security, actually diminishes it. Granted Order 17 does make oversight of the mercs difficult to the point of impossible, and that needs to be addressed, but these men and women know full well the dangers they face, and since their only allegiance is to cash, let them get well paid for the risk. I can tell you from personal experience, no enlisted personnel below the rank of E-6 is making squat for the privilege of catching a bullet for Uncle Sam. And if you have been paying attention to the news lately you'll know that the Bush administration cares less for wounded soldiers than it does for frozen embryos. Bring our people home, and let those who kill for a living blow the crap out of each other.

Y'all have great weekend.
Marius

Wednesday, July 25, 2007

What You Need To Know, But Aren't Allowed To Know


This is and article written by Marc Fisher in Washingtonpost.com. It is yet another example of the idiotic extremes the Department of Homeland Paranoia are going to create the illusion of protection.

Secret Buildings You May Not Photograph, Part 643
If you happen by 3701 N. Fairfax Drive in Arlington and decide you have a sudden craving for a photograph of a generic suburban office building, and you point your camera at said structure, you will rather quickly be greeted by uniformed security folks who will demand that you delete the image and require that you give up various personal information.

When Keith McCammon unwittingly took a picture of that building, he was launched on an odyssey that has so far involved an Arlington police officer, the chief of police and the defense of the United States of America.

McCammon could not have been expected to know when he wandered by the building that it houses the Defense Advanced Research Projects Agency, a low-profile wing of the Defense Department that conducts all manner of high-tech research that evolves into weapons systems and high-order strategery.

DARPA's presence at 3701 N. Fairfax is hardly a government secret--Google finds nearly 10,000 pages listing the agency's use of the building. But there's no big fat sign on the building, so how was McCammon to know that this was a building he dared not photograph? And why would the government care if anyone took a picture of the exterior of an office building? This is as silly and hypersensitive as the now-common harassment of people who innocently take pictures of random federal buildings in the District.

McCammon decided to fight back. He demanded to know why he had been stopped, why the government needed his personal information, and why any record of the incident should be kept in government records. He got quick, polite responses from Arlington officials.

"I hope that you would agree that the security of any such building is of great importance and every law enforcement officer is duty bound to investigate all suspicious activity," wrote Arlington Acting Police Chief Daniel Murray. "I am certainly not implying that a person taking photographs is inherently 'suspicious,' but when the appearance is that the subject of a photograph is a government installation, officers have a duty to ensure the safety of the occupants of this structure."

Hmmm. Any government installation? This overly broad approach to security is why we end up with ridiculous horror stories about innocent tourists getting hassled for taking photos of the Lincoln Memorial or the Department of the Interior. The good news here is that Arlington police didn't take a report or create a file on McCammon. The bad news is that they did pass his information along to "the internal security agency for this installation." Which means that somewhere in the vast security apparatus that we have constructed since 9/11--utterly ignoring the fact that the Soviet empire collapsed under the weight of its own paranoid security apparatus--there is now a report on Keith McCammon, photographer.

The bottom line is that McCammon was caught in a classic logical trap. If he had only known the building was off-limits to photographers, he would have avoided it. But he was not allowed to know that fact. "Reasonable, law-abiding people tend to avoid these types of things when it can be helped," McCammon wrote. "Thus, my request for a list of locations within Arlington County that are unmarked, but at which photography is either prohibited or discouraged according to some (public or private) policy. Of course, such a list does not exist. Catch-22."

The only antidote to this security mania is sunshine. Only when more and more Americans do as McCammon has done and take the time and effort to chronicle these excesses and insist on answers from authorities will we stand a chance of restoring balance and sanity to the blend of liberty and security that we are madly remixing in these confused times.

Saturday, July 21, 2007

Happy, Happy, Joy, Joy



Ok, so I've been a bit gloomy of late, so here's an all smiles edition of The Corner. As you may know, my new job won't start for another month, so I've been working at a friend's uniform sales company in South Florida. I'm really enjoying the job. The work itself is simple...mostly packing shirts in boxes and shipping them all over the US and Canada...but the people I work with are wonderful. "A" is an older Puerto Rican lady with a million stories and some very strong opinions. She's a blast, although sometimes her conversational momentum is a bit difficult to deflect. She's the kind of person who will move the moon and stars for the people close to her, but Heaven help you if you arouse her ire.
My other coworker is "M". She's a younger woman in her late 20's who has had, to say the least, a rough life, but she is one of the most cheerful people I've ever worked with. She's funny and very good at teaching me the ropes. I think that she is unused to people being nice to her because she keeps telling me what a good person I am. She has a young son that she thinks the world of, and is very easy to talk to.

My boss, "R", is the father of my dear friend "J" in Holland, which is how I got this gig, and he has always had my deepest respect and admiration. It's a pleasure to watch him in action. His is an old-fashioned work ethic where he deals with as many of his customers and subcontractors in person as he can, and it's obvious that most, if not all of his clients deal with him as much out of loyalty as financial expedience. Unfortunately the possibility of making enough money there isn't feasible, or I'd consider a career change.

This next grin comes from overseas. I have a dear friend/pen pal in England named Susie. We corresponded by mail years ago, but I am a terrible letter writer, and she is always busy with the local council, town's women's guild, community theatre, and her not small family, so our communications were sporadic but always heartfelt. A few months ago I received a lengthy email from her detailing her exploits, and, in her oh-so-British way, apologizing profusely for her laxity of writing. I responded gleefully and assured her that no offense was taken and that I was always glad to hear from her. Then some time passed, and a mutual friend here in the states forwarded an email he received saying that she had been moved to a different hospital. Now I had not heard of her being in the hospital at all, let alone being moved, so I was quite concerned. "P", the mutual friend, did his best to find out what was going on, and finally got an answer from someone over there who said that she had cancer of the spine and pelvis, and that she didn't have much time left. It was like a blow to the gut. I pondered what to do, and finally sent her an email asking her to send me her phone number. P had tried to call them, but only got the voice mail. I wasn't expecting an answer to my email, then Thursday I got an uncharacteristically short message with the number and a quick request that I do, indeed, call. This did not ease my fears, and this morning, with great trepidation, I called. Susie answered and was bright, and cheerful, and very much alive. Yes, she has a tumor on her lower spine, and had it gone untreated much longer this story would not have a happy ending, but she is responding to chemo, and if they can get the tumor small enough it will be operable. She's not having fun, but the morphine is helping, and she hopes to make an almost complete recovery. And there was much rejoicing.

Ok, I'm home for a couple of days, so Mrs. Marius and I are off to the movies. May your weekend be filled with smiles.

Marius

Wednesday, July 18, 2007

Mea Culpa

A while back I commented that one of my former student's father told her not to read my blog. My reaction to that was inappropriate, and Loki called me out on that. I posted a bit of a retraction, but was not really as out front as it could have been. Here is a comment her dad posted today:(note that I have removed names)

Don't believe everything a 16 year old girl tells you. especially one who has a grudge to bear against her old man.

first of all, i do not disagree with your political point of view. for the most part i am right in line with you (other than all the hate and cynicism), although you are a little more left than myself.

second, i never told z that she couldn't visit your site because of the political views. i told her that i didn't agree with the language you used. you are a school teacher and yet you use profanity on a site that you know your students visit. nice.

my job is to protect my daughter, mr t. you have incredibly huge influence on z. what she needs are positive influences, not so much with the hate stuff. she needs to know ALL sides of whatever political issues are occuring and try to keep an open mind instead of closing it to just one person's view.

lose the profanity and scale back on the hate and she has my permission. but i think we all know that she will be here anyway. i'm not stupid and there's nothing i can do to keep her off this site.

you have your job and i have mine. let's be responsible.


I am putting this out here so I can answer to it in full view. Firstly, D, let me thank you for taking such an interest in your daughter's actions. I admit that my first reaction was inappropriate, and as it was pointed out to me, there are far too many parents whose apathy only empowers their teenagers' misbehavior. I am very relieved to find that my political views were not the problem. Unfortunately that is what I zeroed in on, and was the crux of my reaction. As for the language, I have backed off quite a bit on it since I started this blog, but the fact that I am not exactly ready for prime time is one of many reasons I left the high school. I am much better suited to the collegiat atmosphere, where the students are old enough to make up their own minds about things. I never expected any of my students to visit The Corner, and was shocked when Z posted her first comment. However, having spent a year amongst her peers, I can assure you that, sadly, the occasional 'f-bomb' and other profanities that find their way into my prose pale in comparison to the casual conversation in the classrooms and hallways of the school. Just as you cannot, should she choose to disobey, keep her totally from this site, I cannot control who comes here. I don't think that my posts are that offensive, even to a 16-year-old, but I will make an effort to consider such things in the future. As for the negativity, you are not the first to point this out to me, and I am working on it. Lastly please know that Z means a great deal to me. She has a lot of talent, and could go far in the creative arts, but when she told me of your decision I did not suggest that she do anything other than obey. As you say I am only hearing her side of things, so rather than inspire her to rebel, I recommended that she do as you asked. I, too, am a father, and I know that I would not want anyone, even a teacher, telling my daughter otherwise.

Again, I thank you for your concern, and welcome your input at any time.

Marius

Sunday, July 15, 2007

Sick, Sad World



Here are some tidbits from stuff you won't see on CNN.

The Huston Chronicle reports that in May, St. Louis Cardinals pitcher Josh Hancock was killed in a car wreck. He was reportedly drunk, speeding, not wearing a seat belt, and talking on his cell phone when he plowed into a parked tow truck that was in the process of helping another motorist on I-64 that night. Seems pretty clear that Hancock himself was at fault, but his father is now suing the tow truck company, the motorist who was being helped, and the restaurant that sold Hancock the booze.

The Kentucky Enquirer reports, again from May, that 20 year old Andres Vasquez, of Verona Kentucky, called 911 to report that someone had 'thrown' his truck on top of him. It took a while for the operator to finally get Vasquez to admit that he had been drinking, and flipped his truck on his own. He was suspended, upside-down, and kept passing out. The operator wanted to send help, but when asked where he was his only response was 'under the *%$!ing truck!' Eventually she got him to give her some more useful information, and he was rescued.

And finally, in the 'here's another reason to avoid this stuff' category, a woman was killed at a Christian music festival yesterday when the Air Glory ride, a bungee-based ride that pulls riders hanging from a harness up a couple of hundred feet in the air then releases them, broke and dropped her 45 feet to her death. The festival continued, but with 'more mellow worship songs' after the accident.

Have a happy Sunday, y'all.

Marius

Friday, July 13, 2007

Back I Go



I have been trying to find out the exact start date for my new job for a while now, since most of the people I talked to suspected that it would be at the beginning of July, but the true date has finally been confirmed. September 1. So Sunday I head back to South Florida where I will once again take up the mantle as chief muscle for Uniform Sales, Inc. Call me, we'll party.

Thursday, July 12, 2007

Five




Five is the number thou shalt count, and the number of the counting shall be five. Hi, folks and welcome to a pentasmagoric edition of The Corner. Why all the fiveness? Two reasons. 1. We just saw the fifth Harry Potter movie, 2. (and most importantly) today is Mrs. Marius' and my fifth wedding anniversary. Hard to believe it's been five years already, and it's also hard to believe that it's only been five. That is, I'll admit, somewhat Dickensian, but not outside the realm of the believable. We've been through quite a bit since tying the knot in 'Ought-Two', but we're still going strong. I know that it took us both a while to settle in to sharing our lives, especially me since I had essentially been on my own for 30+ years, but I think we are finally used to the idea that this marriage is here to stay. I'm not quite sure what we are going to do to celebrate, but I'm sure we'll think of something.

Oh, that reminds me. Here is a vital difference between cats and dogs. Say, for example, that you are dog sitting for a friend. And that friend has a large Roman bathtub, and your wife that you haven't seen for nearly a month comes to stay the night, and in the midst of 'relaxing' together in said tub you see a pointy, red-furred face resting on the edge of the tub all wide-eyed and interested. You figure that the dog will get bored once she sees that she's being ignored and will go away. But no such luck. The dog's eyes seem to be saying, 'Whatcha doing? How 'bout now? And now? Whatcha doin now?' Kinda kills the mood. On the other hand, if you are at home, sans child, and you decide to get frisky on the couch, and you look over and see a feline face staring at you, you know that the cat is thinking, 'What on Earth are you doing? Does it involve feeding me? No? I'll be in the window, then.' Mood salvaged. I like dogs, but I love cats.


Ok, back to Harry Potter. There is a catch 22 to Order of the Phoenix. If you have not read the book, you will spend a great deal of the movie wondering who people are, and what is going on. If, however, you have read the book, and managed to retain much of the detail, then you will be frustrated by how much was left out, and how much was changed. Your best bet is to be like me. I read the book, but it was so long ago, and it was my least favorite of the bunch, that I didn't notice most of the changes, and even approve of the ones I did notice. I really liked this one. It moves quickly, it has some genuinely funny moments, and the final struggle twixt Dumbledore and Voldemort is everything a wizard battle should be. I have given up on lamenting a lack of detail since Rowling crams so much into her books that it would take a Peter Jacksonian trilogy to fully capture any one of them, but there is a disturbing lack of depth to this film. The eponymous Order are seen rarely, and never really explained, and several of the peripheral characters come and go so quickly you might not even notice they were there at all.(i.e. Percey and Ginny Weasely) But all the principals do a great job(though it does strain the willing suspension of disbelief to think of Daniel Radcliff as 14 years old), and the main villainess, Dolores Umbridge played by Imelda Staunton, is every bit the power-hungry shark in sheep's clothing. Most of the cast of professors are back, although I lament the brevity of Emma Thompson's presence in the film, and the climax is exciting and flashy, and just a tad scary. Overall I enjoyed it, but if you are a Potter purist it might just bug you too much.

Ok, off to celebrate. TTFN.

Marius

PS
That's Artemis hiding amongst the stuffed critters.

I dream of Djinn...



You are walking along the beach, and you find a curiously shaped bottle. Intrigued, you remove the stopper. The bottle begins to vibrate and smoke, and before you can hurl the thing away a huge djinn appears.

"Greetings, Master!" the djinn rumbles. "A thousand thanks for releasing me from my prison. This is, indeed, the luckiest day for us both. I have gained my freedom, and you have gained three wishes."

You open your mouth to fire off the wishes you have waited your whole life to utter, when a large, grey-skinned hand presses your lips closed.

"Forgive me, Master, but in my gratitude and joy at being released, I forgot to tell you the rules. Firstly, you may not wish for more wishes. Three is the number,and the number shall be three. Secondly, your wish may not directly affect the normal course of history, so do not wish to go back in time to kill a ruthless dictator, nor wish away a world-wide plague. Lastly, and perhaps most importantly, know that I am a slave to my nature. We are a capricious and mischevious breed, and the wording of your wishes, should it give me room to do so, may just bring about unwanted results. Wish wisely, oh Master, and we will both be happy."


What do you wish?

Monday, July 09, 2007

KSC Concluded


This was the coolest part of the tour. We got to see actual modules for the International Space Station being constructed. This is Columbus, a flexible science lab funded by the European Space Agency. The area it's in is a clean room, so most of the scientists and engineers working on it are wearing masks and disposable suits.

Here are some of the scientists at work.

Hmmm, just a tiny bit Freudian?

While the KSC is situated in the middle of one of the world's largest wildlife preserves, this flock of vultures hanging out behind one of the exhibit buildings seems a bit...ominous.

And there you have it. We had a great time, and I was exhausted by the end of the day. But we both felt a bit let down, and it took a while to figure out why. Then it crystallized in my mind. The majority of the information, and exhibits available at the center are aimed at average folks who wouldn't know a vernier from a CO2 scrubber. But if you already know more than what you can read on the back of a Cocoa Beach Burger King bag you will leave with a very hungry brain. With the exception of the glimpse of the clean room for the ISS, the entire tour was all show, and no substance.


But it was still totally cool. ;-)

Marius the Nerd.

KSC II


Here is the business end of the Saturn V. The nozzles are so big I almost couldn't get back far enough to get them completely in the picture. An incredible piece of equipment, especially when you consider it was guided by computers that had less thinking power than your average gaming console.

Random tourist, or Soviet spy sent back in time to steal Apollo secrets?

Lunar module. Imagine two men spending three to five days in a capsule smaller than a VW Bug.

Who's that dashing space rogue?


(to be continued)

Kennedy Space Center, Part I

So, as you know, Rico and I went to KSC on Friday. We spent the whole day immersed in the space program. I took some pics, and came to some conclusions, and here they are.







This is what you see from the road entering the park, and in front of the new shuttle launch simulator. They are full scale mock-ups of the shuttle and it's engines/external fuel tank. Hard to imagine that much hardware flying, isn't it?




This is what it looks like inside the shuttle launch simulator. It's a motion simulator, but in order to get the most realistic feeling possible while not leaving the planet, the whole ride rotates 90 degrees so that you are facing the ceiling. It's really cool.




One of the coolest parts of the trip were seeing the Endeavour's external fuel tank and solid rocket boosters in the Vehicle Assembly Building waiting for the orbiter to arrive.


(to be continued)

Sunday, July 08, 2007

Ghost Rider




In a world where comic book films have risen to the highest of art, such as X-Men 1 & 2, Spiderman 2, and even Batman returns, and sunk to the depths of crapitude, such as Catwoman, and Batman and Robin, Ghost Rider leans a bit toward the bottom of the scale, but manages to just barely avoid the fall. We finished watching it about twenty minutes ago, and I was hoping that this would be one of those movies that lots of people hated, but was still fun to watch as a rental. No such luck. The effects were pretty cool, and they didn't screw with the origin too much, but the writing, editing, and acting were all pretty weak. Even Nicholas Cage, who is such a Ghost Rider fan that he reportedly sports a tattoo of the dude, seemed to have given up by the third act. I am not a fan of Mr. Cage, but I know he can do better than that. Did it suck? Not quite, but unless you have a burning(hee hee) desire to see it, you really aren't missing much. Maybe a sequel would be better, but I rather doubt there will be one.

And now a mea culpa. Loki, you are one hundred percent correct that I was missing the point with my student in my previous post. It is good that her parents are paying attention to what she is doing, and even if it seems that they are overdoing it a bit, I don't know what the situation is at home, and given how scary the world is out there, it is probably better to err on the side of caution. I stand chastised.

Ok, I'm off to Paragon City. Adios.

Marius

WTF II



Hi Honey, I'm home! Whew, what a long strange trip it was, but I'm back home for good now. So, what's that picture about? Well, I'll tell you. Yesterday, around 11:30am in Camino Ruiz, California, police were called to a Wells Fargo bank for a reported robbery in progress. Jacob Johnson, 24, and his friend Jeffrey Russell went into the bank so Jacob could open an account. But upon their exit they found several police officers, guns drawn, surrounding them and putting them under arrest. The cause of the kerfuffle...a realistic, life-sized belt buckle that looked like Jacob had a semi-automatic handgun stuck in his pants. Eventually the cops realized the truth of the situation, and released the men after pointing out to Jacob what an 'idiot' he was for wearing that thing. I have to agree with the cops on that one. Even if it's a cool belt buckle, not that I think it is, but to wear something like that into a bank is just plain stupid. I wonder if he's the type to wear a turban to the airport as a lark.

In local news, I have had my first instance of censorship. One of my students from the high school, one of the good ones, has been visiting The Corner for a few months now, but last night she informed me that her father feels that I'm too political for her. 'Too political' translates into 'I don't agree with his politics', plus he doesn't care for some of my language choices. I am truly sorry that she can't visit at will anymore, and I'm even sorrier that such parochial attitudes still exist in this day and age. Trying to keep ideas away from children, by the way she is 16 years old, is like trying to keep the waves away from the shore. However I told her that since he is her father, and she must abide by his rules while she lives in his house, I won't attempt to circumvent them. But, ZoZo (should you get to read this) you are always welcome here.

Finally I went to the Kennedy Space Center on Friday and spent a wonderful day there. I have many pics that I'll post later today.

TTFN. :-)

Wednesday, July 04, 2007

You have got to see this.

WTF?


Ok, the other day I was looking in the cupboard here at C's place for a Motrin, when I found this bottle marked Pet Relaxant. Hmmm, thinks I, the Kitties-O-The-Apocalypse tend to freak out mightily whenever a car trip becomes necessary, and the vet supplied tranqs lean toward the expensive. Mayhap an OTC remedy herein rests. So I further perused the bottle. It contains valarian root, chamomile, kava kava, and St. John's wort. Alas, thought I, snake oil. But then I got to the most amusing part of the label. In a grand gesture to misplaced tree-hugging Green Party political correctness, this bottle of pet tranquilizers bears the legend, "NO ANIMAL TESTING".

Have a great 4th, kiddies!!

Marius the Incredulous

Tuesday, July 03, 2007

And Justice for...Some




Well, well, well. What a wonderful thing to wake up to. Lewis 'Scooter' Libby won't have to worry about his nickname becoming uncomfortably literal after all. The shrub prince waved his magic wand and made the jail time disappear. A federal appeals panel had ruled that Libby could not delay his sentence, and a scant five hours later there was no jail time to appeal. Libby is still convicted, and has to pay $250,000, and is on probation for two years, but if Paris Hilton can get busted twice for driving on a suspended license while on probation before going to jail for a couple of weeks, I don't think Scooter has much to worry about. Shrub, in one of his usual self-contradictory statements, released a written statement saying, "I respect the jury's verdict but I have concluded that the prison sentence given to Mr. Libby is excessive. Therefore, I am commuting the portion of Mr. Libby's sentence that required him to spend 30 months in prison." I didn't realize that presidents had the power to mostly pardon people. So I am forced to wonder if our mighty leader will look into any other cases of excessive sentencing. I'm sure that every place of incarceration has numerous residents who, by virtue of having a bit more melanin than most on Capitol Hill, are serving more than their fair share of jail time. Whaddya say, Bushie? Get out that jurisprudential White-out and show us just how much you care for the people you so love to bone.


Dick.


Marius

Saturday, June 30, 2007

Stuff



Good morning, folkses. Here are some semi-random observations and musings for your reading pleasure.

1.Mcdonalds. I have eaten many a Mikey-D's breakfast over the past few weeks, and I've noticed a disturbing trend. While most of the employees are courteous, and mostly competent, the customers have become totally annoying. The other day I was waiting in line behind two Hispanic people, one man and one woman. The woman did not seem to speak any English, and the 15-year-old girl behind the counter not only didn't speak any Spanish, but seemed downright pissed that she was expected to understand the woman. The man, who spoke both languages quite well, was trying to help, but he kept contradicting what the woman was saying. It was a train wreck. Then, when I finally got my order, that same woman and her friend parked themselves in front of the soft drink dispensers, jabbering away at each other, and taking their sweet time getting their drinks. Then, to top it all off, a kindly old man dropped his coffee right between my feet, thus spraying the famously scalding liquid onto my legs(I wear shorts to work down here)and making sure I would smell like Juan Valdez's back yard all day. Now, I don't really have a problem with immigration, but when I went to France, I learned a few basic words in French so I could be understood in places such as eating establishments. Yet when people come here, they complain that we don't speak their language. I know that this is a very simplistic view of the immigrant situation, but it just irks me.

2. Friends. Most of my life I have surrounded myself with people either much younger, or much older than me. This hasn't always been intentional, but just the way things worked out. But last night I visited two of my oldest, and dearest friends, Robert and Patty. We have known each other since junior college and high school, respectively, and it was wonderful to sit with people my own age for a time. They have two beautiful children, a gorgeous house, and many of the same concerns and enjoyments as I. It was a warm, loving, comfortable visit. This is not to say I don't enjoy being with my friends of all ages, but it is a treat to be with folks my own age from time to time.

3. Cosmo. About 10 years ago Deb went on tour. She asked me if I would live in her apartment for the duration and take care of Cosmo...her cat. I was glad to do so, and spent many a wonderful hour with the pillow sized, black and white critter. He was not an overly affectionate beastie, but almost always appreciated a good scratch. He was playful, and easy going, and very mellow. Alas, last week, time caught up with Cosmo. He had been ill for a long time with feline diabetes, and there were a few close calls, but he just kept on keeping on. I got to see him about a week before the end. He was a skinny, but still appreciative Cosmo, and we shared a bit of quality time, for which I'm grateful. When Deb informed me of his passing, I cried. Not just teared up. I actually cried. I haven't done that without the aid of alcohol in more years than I can remember. He was a truly groovy kitty, and he will be missed.

4. Home. I want to go home, but I have another week of service to perform down here. It has been great seeing everybody, and my accommodations are top notch, but I miss my wife, my bed, my kitties, and my stuff. The trip back promises to be lots of fun, though. I'll be stopping by the great wizard Rico's place, and then he and I shall go to the nerdvana that is the Kennedy Space Center. Thence I shall go a bit further north to visit my friend Sherri, and then, finally, home. Then I get to start my new job at Eckerd College. And there was much rejoicing.


Ok, cats and kittens, I'm out for now. Make sure you tip the wait staff, and remember I'll be here all week. ;-)

Marius

Monday, June 25, 2007

Not Bad.



Yesterday morning Mrs. Marius and I, on the spur of the moment, went to IHOP and then the movies. We saw the Fantastic Four sequel. And much to my wonderment and surprise, I liked it a lot. The first movie was ok, but it was bogged down by the weight of exposition, and thus moved too slowly. This one is not hindered by such considerations, and is a rocket from the opening credits. The story is simplistic, but genuinely funny and heartwarming at times, and moves fast enough that it was over almost before I knew it. There were moments when we laughed out loud, and at no time did I feel the 'oh, come on' reflex kick in. Is it going to change the way comic book movies are made? No. But it was fun, action packed, and well performed. Michael Chiklis' Thing steals the show, even though Chris Evans (the Human Torch) tries his best to do so. There wasn't enough Silver Surfer, and the presence of Dr. Doom was kind of contrived, but overall this was a big budget Saturday Morning cartoon with live actors, and we had a great time. So some afternoon dump the kids at Gramma's, get yourself a big bucket of popcorn, and let the 12 year old in you run wild. This movie is exactly what the big summer blockbuster is supposed to be...fun.

Ok, I've loafed enough, time to get back to work.

Peace, y'all.

Marius

Sunday, June 24, 2007

Whew!



What a weekend! Since Wednesday your intrepid Marius, and the good ship Hyperion, have together driven 976 miles! I had to return the Child-O-The-Apocalypse to the homeworld for a neurologist appointment. After a full day and night of electronic probing it seems the young'n's grey matter is chugging along quite normally. And there was much rejoicing. So then, Saturday morn packed I child and luggage of Thurston Howell The Third proportions into the Hyperion and headed North, to Tallahassee to hand off the child to her father. Many a Vivarin and Mountain Dew was quaffed, but the 500+ mile round trip ended without incident yesternight. And I slept the sleep of the dead.

Today Mrs. Marius and I broke our fast at a house of worldwide renown, and dined 'pon flat cakes and delightful egg dishes. And much strawberry syrup met a grisly fate twixt my gnashing teeth. Then t'was on to the cinema, where a quartet of fantastic beings did battle with a shiny surfer, and a doctor of doom. And we were much entertained. T'was then back to Castle Marius for a quick nap, a quick pack, and a long drive back here to WPB, where I am once again the guest of my beloved C. And lo, Marius is wooly.

I also picked up the audio book of Al Franken's Lies, and the Lying Liars that Tell Them, but that will be for another post.

Adieu, mes amis.

Marius

Friday, June 22, 2007

Why Didn't You Think Of That Before We Left?



Wondermark

THIS is how I define unwarranted!



For those who refer to me with euphemisms that evince images of female genitalia, this is why I don't ride roller coasters. On Thursday, at Six Flags Kentucky, a 16 year old girl was riding the Superman Tower of Power, which is a free-fall thrill ride wherein riders are raised 177 feet in the air and dropped. But just before 5pm, a cable snapped and went underneath the car holding the passengers and severed the girl's feet at the ankles.

I'll stick with the tea cups and the bumper cars, thank you very much.

Wednesday, June 20, 2007

Saturday, June 16, 2007

Sequelitis II: The Surge



Oh sweet irony, how I love to embrace thee. Ok, now that we have talked about sequels that should never have been, let us discuss a much smaller topic: sequels we wish had happened. Every now and then there comes a film whose characters and situations are just so enthralling that we dearly want to see more of them, yet in this puzzling world of multiple visits to the Well-O-Crap(tm) the producers never make another one. I have been racking my tiny little brain over this one, and I can only come up with one and a half, but I have no doubt that you wonderous visitors will rectify my senility and fill in the blanks admirably. And so, without further stuff(ala Chuck Barris) I give you Marius' List of Sequels The Should Have Been:

1. The Adventures of Remo Williams. In 1985 a tiny little B movie premiered based on The Destroyer books in which a cop, played by Fred Ward, presumed dead, is forced to choose between becoming really dead, or becoming a secret assassin for the government. He is trained in the mysterious martial art, Shinanju, by a diminutive Korean, played wonderfully by Joel Grey, who heaps both physical and verbal abuse on Remo. The training is as amusing as it is effective, and even though the film had more of a made-for-tv feel it was a lot of fun. It also featured a young actress by the name of Kate Mulgrew, although IMHO she was pretty awful in this flick. It was not a great film, but it was entertaining, and a hell of a lot better than some of the celluloid turds that get two and three sequels, and I looked forward to more installments. I later found out, when I worked with Joel Grey, that he was expecting to do more movies as well. But it never came to pass.

1/2. Galaxy Quest. This movie was a beautiful send up of the world of Star Trek fandom, but never insulted the people it was lampooning. A group of actors from a now-cancelled Science Fiction tv series suddenly find themselves portraying their on-screen personas for real. With Tim Allen, Sigourney Weaver, and Allen Rickman leading a wonderful cast the film was a comic masterpiece. I give this one 1/2 because I would love to see more, but I fear that a sequel would be subjected to the same crapification I spoke of in the last blog. I suppose it is best that there was not a second movie, but it would be nice to see if done right.


Ok, your turn. What movies would you like to see continued?

Marius

Friday, June 15, 2007

Sequelitis




In reading last night's post about Pirates 3 I started thinking about other movies whose sequels just didn't live up to the original. And that got me to thinking about just why the movie industry can't seem to let a good thing lie. Some films are episodic, like the James Bond movies, or Star Trek films, and make a series of movies an enjoyable experience. But many flicks are brilliant ideas, fully realized the first time around, and rehashes become simply that...rehashes. So without further ado I give you Marius' List of Movies The Should Never Have Had Sequels.

1. The Matrix. This was one of the most original (and yes, C, I know there was a Twilight Zone episode that was similar, but that was nearly 50 years ago) 'machine vs. men' conceptualizations I've ever seen. It was operatic in its use of violence as art, and Keanu Reeves even did a good job acting in it. The final scene, where Neo warns the machines that their day is over, then flies up and out of the frame was sheer genius. It left us with a Schrodinger's box full of ideas and possibilities that no sequel could live up to...and the two that followed never did.

2. Aliens. Yes, I know that Aliens was a sequel, but it is one of the top five sequels that equal their progenitors. It took the brilliantly built foundation of Ridley Scott's Alien and turned it into a full-on action thrill ride. And at the end, when Ripley puts Newt and Hicks into the freezers we all breathed a sigh of relieve and closure at a fight well won. Then Alien 3 gave us all the finger by killing off two of the three survivors before the opening credits even rolled, and sent Ripley into a story that forced us to strain our disbelief to the breaking point. And then, in Alien 4, we fall back on that tired old Science Fiction cliche that in a universe full of monsters, man is the worst one of them all. Barf!

3. Wayne's World. A SNL-based movie that doesn't suck is almost as rare as George Carlin hosting the show, but Mike Meyers and Dana Carvey managed a comic gem with Wayne's World. It was low key, slick, and made no pretensions to greatness. It was just 'two chimps on a davenport' who made us laugh for 90 minutes or so. It used all the bits from the sketches, but never overdid it, and who knew that Rob Lowe could be so dead-pan funny. Then the sequel came out and used the 'if it was funny once in the original, it will be hilarious a dozen times in the sequal' formula, and blew chunks.

4. Ghostbusters. Arguably one of the funniest movies ever made, Ghostbusters came out of nowhere and made us laugh our ectoplasmic asses off. We were all asking each other 'who ya gonna call' for months, and then there was a Saturday Morning cartoon that was fun to watch. Then someone got the bright idea to make another movie, but it seemed to be based more on the cartoon than the original film. It followed the tried and true Hollywood tradition of turning what was once funny into what is now stupid.

5. Jurassic Park. I think that Jurassic Park was one of the finest adaptations of a book into a movie ever. The characters were real, the effects incredible, and the plot believable. The flavor of the book was well captured, and while there were some significant changes, they worked for the film. And the message of the story was clear, well stated, and fun to watch. Then along came Hollywood with their 'do it again' mentality, like a 5 year old with a few million dollars. They asked Michael Crichton to write it, and at first he balked, since he doesn't do sequels, but eventually he caved under the weight of all the cash they shovelled at him. He wrote the screenplay, and a second novel, and both sucked. Nothing new was brought to the table, and setting a T-Rex loose in San Fransisco was more King Kong '77 than good cinema. And the third film was even weaker.

Ok, I've primed the pump. Let me know what sequels you thought were totally unnecessary. Or tell me I'm full of celluloid for my picks. The choice is yours.

Adieu,
Marius

Thursday, June 14, 2007

Pirates of The...oh screw it...

And the yawnfest that is this Summer's movies just keeps going. We saw Pirates of the Carribean III tonight, and while it wasn't Alien 4 bad, it was definately X-Men 3 bad. The effects were great, Depp was as charimatic as ever. Orlando Bloom was all manly with swash firmly buckled, and Kiera Knightly was a vision of kick-ass beauty, but the plot was about as clear as a fine goblet filled with deep sea silt. And it was definately the most gruesome of the series. Anyone bringing children to this installment will be holding some scared little hands come bedtime. I won't say don't see it, since if you've seen the first two you have probably already decided to see this one, but don't expect much. Oh, and do stay til after the credits.

Night night.

Marius

Sunday, June 10, 2007

The Old Stomping Grounds



Greetings, Dear Ones, and welcome to the live remote edition of The Corner. As you may know, I am in West Palm Beach for a working vacation. I am working for friends at a uniform sales shop, and while they are putting me to some rather strenuous work, my brain is getting lots of rest. And I have discovered some important information for the Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles. When fighting a shredder, the most powerful weapon in their arsenal should be a staple. I say this because I spent significant portions of Thursday and Friday shredding old documents, and it would have gone much faster if the machine could eat staples.

On to the news. The picture above is of Lake Worth beach. Mrs. Marius has joined me for a week, and Celebhith and P took us to breakfast at a restaurant on the pier called Benny's. The food was marvelous, but the beach was depressing. Being as I am prone to spontaneously combust in direct sunlight, I tend to avoid the seashore by day, so this was the first time I had actually set foot upon the beach in many years. Those of you who recognize the pier will notice that much of it is missing. Hurricane Katrina apparently liked the pier so much she took a great deal of it with her. And it's still not fixed. My brother and I used to ride our bikes to the beach in our youth and go fishing off the pier. Alas. But what really got me is that the barrage of hurricanes over the last few years has totally eroded the beach itself away. There used to be at least several dozen feet between the sea grass dunes and the high water mark. Not any more. The tide was out this morning, but there was very little dry sand to walk upon. I'm talking mere feet in some places. It is rather daunting how much Mother Nature can eat off of a shoreline when she gets really hungry.

Ok, I will now rant about that waste of time Paris Hilton. I had hoped that we would be treated to 45 days without hearing about her upon her incarceration. Oh what fools we mortals be. First she's released after 3 days, then she's put back in weeping and crying 'it's not fair' all the way back. And now, as if this were some fucking capital murder case, she puts out a press release saying that she won't appeal the decision! Won't appeal 20 something days in jail?! And it gets lead coverage on C-fucking-NN?! I don't even know what to say. And then, not five minutes later, they interview Labron James and ask him what he thinks will happen on tonight's final Sopranos episode! If Saturday Night Live had done either of these things a few years ago as a sketch we might have found it funny. Now it's just fucking sad. I expect to see such drek on Entertainment Tonight, but CNN?

In good news, the lovely Mrs. Marius brought me a present when she came down. Ozzy Osbourne's new album. It kicks. There is a clarity and focus to the music that has been missing for many years, and it hearkens back in many ways to his Sabbath days. I recommend it.

Ok, pool time. Ta, darlings! :-)

Marius

Tuesday, June 05, 2007

The Fabulous Ms. C. and Her Entourage



Ladies and gentlemen, I give you my hostess and her new family. That's Celebhith in the middle, and to her right is See, a recently adopted greyhound, and on the chair is Koa, a lively chow+something mix. Koa recently moved from Connecticut and seems quite at home in the hellish Florida summer. Both of the new babies are sweet as can be. I have met other greyhounds, and they are usually very mellow almost to the point of not seeming to care if they are getting petted or not. Not See. She's a snugglebunny...albeit a very long, tall snugglebunny. And she's also a kisser. Koa will give a kiss or two as well, but she lives for playing fetch the log or getting her butt scratched. And they both seem to like their new Uncle Marius.

Ok, I start work in the morning, so I'm off to bed. Night night, sleep tight, don't let the bedbugs bite.(isn't that a lovely thought to try to relax to?)

Uncle Marius

Mine is Bigger...




Yesterday I went to see the 'rents. At one point my mom accused me of 'whining' about my dissatisfaction with my job at the high school. Then this morning I was reading Loki's blog, and she's going through some very rough times with chemotherapy, and I began to feel guilty about expressing dismay over my own woes. Then, some hitherto unheard from part of my psyche put forth this very quiet question: is my pain any less significant to me just because someone else has it worse? And is 'worse' really an appropriate word to use? How many times have you been caught in a conversation with someone that, no matter the story you tell of some awful experience or injury you had, they've had one worse? Have you ever been that person? I remember a time, back at the Pope Theatre, when a bunch of us techies were on a break and were comparing scars. I had recently recovered from lopping the end of my thumb off. One of the guys was missing parts of his brain due to falling off of a ladder. One dude had nearly had his face scraped off in a motorcycle crash. Then we all looked at Tim, the Master Electrician, who rather sheepishly said, 'well, I had a really nasty hangnail once.' And, in a bizarro twist of irony, the guy who was totally whole and unmaimed was unspokenly dubbed the loser. Why must we compare our agonies? And why, when someone doesn't have any, or has 'lesser' ones, do we use that to fan the flames of our own pain? Rather than insinuate that Tim was less of a man for not having been damaged, we should have congratulated him for taking better care of himself than we did. But at the end of the day, Tim may not even have a bottle of Advil in his house, while I have pain killers that most doctors haven't heard of.

So yeah, I may have bitched and moaned a bit over the last school year, but would hiding it have mattered to anyone in Darfur? I think not. Perhaps if we spent less time worrying about who hurts most, and instead just supported each other when we do hurt, there would be a lot less guilt flying about, and more healing. And Loki, if there's anything I can do to help, you know you just have to call. :-)

And now I'm going to put a band-aid on the boo-boo I got last night.

Marius the Painless(sort of)

Monday, June 04, 2007

Love Slayer




Greetings from sunny(read: hotter than Satan's sauna)South Florida. Fear not, dear ones, I shall continue to blog with my usual atomic-clock-like frequency though I be far, far away. Well, ok, who am I trying to kid. I'll probably be as hit or miss as ever, but at least I will try to be more consistent. Is that ok?

I don't know if other areas of the country get to experience this phenomenon, but the drive down left my car at least twice as heavy due to the inches thick layer of dead love bugs coating the entire forward surface of my vehicle. Love Bugs(Plecia nearctica) spend much of the year as larvae, but usually around April-May they take to the air, couple up, and fly about dancing butt-to-butt in huge, harmless, but very gooshy clouds all over the place, and especially along the freeways. I suppose if I had to choose a way to go, in flagrante delecto would be my first choice, but it sure would be nice if these carnal critters would take their enjoyment indoors, or at least away from the roads.

And if you have heard the urban legend that says love bugs were the result of genetic experiments at the University of Florida, and that they were accidentally released into the wild, rest easy. They are natives of Central America who most likely stowed away on cargo ships putting into Louisiana in the '20s, and have discovered what thousands of Spring Breakers already know: our sun-drenched shores a lovely place to indulge in completely unabashed, totally uninterrupted, absolutely anonymous fornication. But the bugs don't waste time with wet carapace contests, or jello shots first.

Now I'm going to make with the scraping.

Marius the Out-Grossed

Saturday, June 02, 2007

PSA

And Away We Go




So, starting tomorrow, I shall be in sunny South Florida for three weeks. There I shall toil for some friends, earn a few sheckles, and hopefully do a lot of catching up with old friends. So if you fall into that category, and wanna hang, pop me a message and I'll send you my digits. :-)

Marius the Traveler

For The World Is Hollow...


One of the few comics I read as a young pup, with thanks to Duke, was called The Warlord and starred Travis Morgan, a ripped, blond Air Force pilot who crashes in the mythical land of Skartaris that exists at the center of our hollow planet. It was populated by the requisite dinosaurs, primitives, and remarkably hygienic white she-warriors, and the frequent depictions of him battling with .45 in one hand, and broadsword in the other were quite fun to read. Of course, no one in their right mind would imagine for a moment that there really is a great hole in the Arctic that allows one to access a lost world within...or would they?

Apparently an American physicist named Brooks Agnew believes, and he has booked passage on a Russian icebreaker next year to prove it. In a move right out of a Jules Verne novel, Agnew is picking up where adventurer and entrepreneur Steve Curry left off. Mr. Curry claimed to have located the opening at roughly 400 kilometres northwest of Ellesmere Island, and was selling spaces on the expedition at $20k a pop. Unfortunately Curry died of brain cancer last year, leaving the search for the inner world unfinished.

Agnew claims to believe that the world is hollow, and that this will be a scientific endeavor, but it is interesting to note that among his crew are several experts on meditation, mythology, UFO's, and the requisite documentary crew. In a statement worthy of Carl Denham himself, Agnew says that even if they don't find the legendary opening, the trip "will still make an outstanding documentary...But if we do find something, this will be the greatest geological discovery in the history of the world." Ah, if only P.T. Barnum had thought of this one.

Now if only someone could touch the sky.

Marius

Thursday, May 31, 2007

Tuesday, May 29, 2007

The Good News




And you say we men don't pick up on things. ;-)

The Bad News


Charles Nelson Reilly died yesterday from pneumonia at the age of 76. Most of us remember him from Match Game, or Hollywood Squares, or Lidsville, but his was a talent far deeper than most knew. I met him once, very briefly, while helping with auditions at the Burt Reynold's Dinner Theatre. I handed him a stack of paperwork, and he said, "Thank you, honey." I was 19 or 20, and while some might have been freaked by such a comment, coming from him it seemed quite complimentary. So much so that the moment has stayed in my memory for more than two decades. There are others who frequent this little corner who knew him better. PIKARESQUE wrote a lovely eulogy, and if any others of you who knew him wish to post something here, please feel free. Here is a link to a pretty good, brief bio of this gentle, largely unsung giant.

Charles Nelson Reilly

Rest well, sir. I wish I had known you better.

Marius

Saturday, May 26, 2007

Pan's Labyrinth

Wow! What an incredible movie, but be warned...this is no kiddie film. I can't really tell you what it's about, since I'm still working that out for myself, but it is beautiful, scary, magical, horrific, and completely worth seeing. And again, let me stress, THIS IS NOT FOR CHILDREN. Unless your last name is either Burton or Addams, give the younglings a copy of Happy Feet and send them to their rooms.

See ya tomorrow.
Marius

Burrrp!

If there are any restaurants in Heaven, then they will definately have an Outback.


Fat, dumb, and happily yours,
Marius

Trois




Greetings, Fellow Space Travelers, and welcome to The Corner. Today we'll touch on many things, so kick off your shoes, pour yourself a stiff glass of whatever beverage tickles your fancy, and is legal in your particular jurisdiction, and join Uncle Marius on a journey of discovery and wonder...well, maybe that's overstating things just a tad, but let's go anyway.

Do good things come in threes? We have now seen two of the big three movies that have the number 3 in the title. I have previously writ of the mediocrity of Spiderman 3, but in a nutshell I don't think it's a franchise killer like X-Men 3 should be, but it is certainly the Temple of Doom of the series. The next trequal we saw was Shrek 3. We own both previous installments in the series, and laughed our collective glutes off at 2, so we were quite excited to see 3. Then I heard some bad reviews, and lackluster word-of-mouth, so when we went to the theater I was already planning the 'this movie sucked' blog while watching the previews. Then the movie started, and I laughed a lot. It certainly isn't the best of the three, but it is a funny, enjoyable ride with one stand out cameo by one of the world's comedy heroes. Yeah, the story is pretty weak, but the jokes are spot on, and there is very little repetition of 'what worked before'. That is usually my biggest gripe with comedy sequels; if a joke worked once in the first film, let's do it a dozen times in the second. So far the Shrek movies have used a very light touch with such things. I'd love to attribute that to Mike Meyers, but the Austin Powers sequels were egregious dippers of the nearly-dry comedy well. In any case, Shrek 3 is well worth seeing so long as you don't go in expecting it to be the funniest thing since Blazing Saddles. Just enjoy it for what it is: a couple of hours of silliness and fun.

In a similar vein, a new mini-sculpture released by Marvel Comics(above)depicts Mary Jane Watson, Mrs. Spiderman, in tight, low cut jeans and tank top, bent over a wash basin rinsing out Spidey's suit. Her ample attributes are well displayed, as are her thong undies. This has raised what is, to me anyway, a strange outcry. As I have stated before I am not a comic book reader, but what I have seen of the portrayal of women in comics usually ranges from office girl fetish wear to full-on Vegas stripper. Granted these super vixens are kicking serious ass while defying the laws of physics and gravity, but why when Starfire of the Teen Titans wears less than Wendy O. Williams at the beach are people getting so bent out of shape over this maquette? Especially when all my research tells me that being hot is MJ's only real talent. I've asked several of my comic reading friends, including my wife, about the apparent uselessness of MJ except as eye candy and hostage fodder in the movies, and they have all said that's pretty much how she is in the comics. I am not defending the statuette's propriety, or lack thereof, but it just seems a strange rallying point for better portrayal of women in comics. Opinions, ladies?

So yesterday marked the 30th anniversary of the release of Star Wars. Back then it was just Star Wars. Episode IV, A New Hope wouldn't be added to the title for a few months yet. G4 ran a two and a half hour live special last night from the huge convention/celebration that was held in LA. To say it was sad would be like agreeing that Greedo should shoot first. The commentators from Attack of the Show were the hosts, and the level of witty repartee and banter rivaled either the Academy Awards presenters, or any Thanksgiving Day parade commentary. It's fortunate I bought myself a celebratory bottle of Captain Morgan last night or I probably would have put my lightsaber through the tv. The only really cool thing they showed was a bunch of people who build life-sized, working R2-D2's, and they have web sites telling how to do it. Muahahahahahahahahahaha!!!(and my wife promised not to divorce me if I build my own droid, as long as I do it gradually enough so as not to impact the budget too badly)

Ok, Starbuck is yelling at me, so I guess this has gone on long enough. Be well, my padawans, and always remember: don't cross the streams. (or mix your movie metaphors, for that matter) :-)

Marius

Friday, May 25, 2007

Are you hoopy?




Hey all you hoopy froods, it's May 25th, and that means it's Towel Day. Since 2001 Douglas Adams fans have been asked to carry around a towel to commemorate the life, and way too early death of the wonderful author who brought us The Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy, and Dirk Gently. Here is the explanation of the event from the Towel Day web site:

Towel Day was intended to be a wake. A way of showing respect for the passing of this most hoopy frood. It was first slated for one week after his death, but that didn't give us nearly enough time to get the word out. So we moved it to two weeks after his death. This question also appears in the form, "But, why not 42 days after his death?" Again, it's all about timing, 42 days is a long time in the history of the Universe, so we were concerned that the enthusiasm would vaporize like a planet in the path of a Vogon Constructor Fleet. Some people still won't give up, and ask "But, why not on Thursday, since that's when the trilogy begins? Well, we didn't think about that until the idea had already exploded across the Internet. I could never get the hang of Thursdays, anyway. If you have any other questions about why Towel Day is on May 25th, instead of (insert date here), feel free to consult your Guide.

So while it is always vital that you know where your towel is, today take extra care to have it nearby. And if you have yet to enjoy any of Douglas Adams' books, grab your towel, forget the bulldozers, and rush to the bookstore...before it's too late!


No panic here,
Marius

Wednesday, May 23, 2007

Twelfth Letter

So here's the drill. Turtle has challenged me to come up with 10 things I like/love/adore/appreciate that start with the letter 'L'. Should this sort of thing appeal to you, gentle readers, leave a comment requesting a letter and I shall provide you with one.

Here we go:

1. Life. I'm rather fond of being alive, even with the suckfullness and thousand natural shocks that flesh is heir to. The alternative just doesn't seem to be as much fun.

2. Lasagne. Garfield and I are brothers under the fur when it comes to that most wonderous of layered foodstuffs. It combines so many of my favorite foods: pasta, ricotta cheese, spaghetti sauce, garlic bread...oops, that's not really an integral part of lasagne, but it should be. ;-)

3. Lumberjacks. The inspiration for one of the funniest songs ever.

4. Lighting. One of the things this tigger does best.

5. Laughter. Something I could use more of, and hope to get more of soon.

6. Lisan Al Gaib. My favorite toon on City of Heroes.

7. Leaving. As in what I get to do to my job as high school teacher in two days.

8. Lexington. Excelsior Class Heavy Cruiser, and my starship.

9. Lamborghini. The coolest car ever.

10. LA Story. One of the funniest, most good-hearted, most underrated movies ever made.

Tuesday, May 22, 2007

Small Change Got Rained On...

My friends, when you are riding the downside of a merlot buzz, and your age hangs over you like the sword of Damocles swinging from a piece of used dental floss, there is no better music than Tom Waits Small Change. The gravelly voice, the lyrics straight out of a Noir marathon, and the melancholy keys of Waits' piano which almost seem insulted by the accompanying violins. Pain has never sounded so beautiful, and tears mix with whiskey to frame the night with agony and ecstasy.

No point here, just wanted to share. Step right up, folks. The piano ain't the only one who's been drinking.

Monday, May 21, 2007

We take you now to the White House...

A dull, hollow thudding echoed down the hallway and reverberated about the oval room. Beads of sweat broke out upon the Shrub Prince's brow, for only one creature in the universe can turn the act of walking into a dread echo of the screams of the damned. The golem approached.

The door slammed open, its hinges nearly torn from the wall, as Cheney lurched into his 'boss's' office. Horribly, it's jaw dropped and a sound like Lucifer's septic system issued forth.

"Graaagh! Arrgh, bwarrk, fuckinpeanutfarmer...BRARRRRGH!!!!"

"What's that, Dickey? Timmy's in the well?"

"Narrrgh, idiot! Friggn Carterrrrrrrgh!" The golem screamed in frustration and rage. It raised one leaden arm and crushed one of the ornate chairs in the room. Dubya, being The Decider, dove for cover under his desk. Quickly he fumbled for his cell phone, managed to call two laundromats and a massage parlor before finally hitting on the right combination of numbers that connected him with the Royal Concubine.

"Condi, Dick's gone crazy again. Find an old man and a shotgun and get in here fast!"

But before she could arrive the turbulance from the golem's rampage caused a newspaper to fall from the desktop and open from the funny pages to the front page. For the first time since Freshmen Sociology the Shrub Prince read an actual headline. 'Jimmy Carter says Bush Administration Worst Foreign Policy in History'. Slowly realization sank into The Decider's tiny brain, and he stood up and showed the paper to Cheney.

"Is this what yer upset about?"

"ARRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRGH!" The angered creature shrieked in affirmation and released the Secret Service agent he was about to tear in half.

"Now don't you worry 'bout this. Ole Georgie will take care of it." Dubya picked up the desk phone, dialed the White House mail room, then the kitchen, then finally got his secretary. "Mable, send up...what? Oh, sorry, Katherine, send in the court jester."

Soon, Tony the Snow-Job jingled into the room and read the headline.

"Tony, I want you to let the world know that even though this pisses me off to no end, it don't really matter to nobody. Kin ya do that?"

"But of course, my leige," Snow-Job fawned, his lips forming a rictus grin. "We'll just say that Carter is irrelevent, and count on the fact that no one will notice that just by saying it, we negate it."

"Grrrargh?" the golem asked.

"Um...yeah...right...uh...that is...whadya say?" Dubya cleverly answered.

"Worry not, dread Prince. Leave it all to me. The Royal Concubine has had a new shipment of puppies brought in for the golem, and your Archie comics have arrived, so why don't you both go down to the rumpus room and relax."

"Yeah, that Jughead. What a comedian. C'mon, Dick. I bet yer hungry."

"Fgrraaaagh, rrrrgh, puppies, mmmmrrrgh."


fin

Quickie

I'd bet that with enough Cool Whip(tm) on it, even a chalk board eraser would taste good.



Marius

Sunday, May 20, 2007

Potpourri

Greetings, Fellow Earthlings,
Wow, what a great day and a half it's been. I had to work yesterday morning, so that sucked, but I was out of there by 11 so that wasn't too bad. But on the way to work I tried to clean off my windshield, but my fluid was out. Normally I'd just keep going, but I decided, since I had only just set out, to pull over and fill it. Before I go any further a bit of background is needed to fully appreciate what happened next. For at least the last year and a half my car has been running poorly. No power, chugging when accelerating, needing prolonged warm-up time before heading out, etc. I had the fuel filter changed a little over a year ago, but that didn't help. So the most logical candidates for this problem were either a bad fuel pump, or bad fuel injectors. Neither job is something a weekend tinkerer like myself can do, and both are quite pricey. So I have been coping. But within the past two weeks it has gotten really bad, to the point where I began to fear being stranded in the middle of intersections, and the inevitable trip to the mechanic, with it's requisite account draining side effects, loomed. So, here it is, 6:40am Saturday morning, and I pop the hood to refill my washer fluid. When what to my wondering ears should appear but a characteristic 'crack, crack, crack'. I knew this sound immediately, since arcing electricity is a professional hazard with which I am intimately familiar. I looked at the spark plug wires, and saw the spark that should have been going into the cylinder to explode all that yummy gas was shooting uselessly into the engine block. The rubber coating on the wire had degraded and the spark was not going into the plug, so the engine was misfiring. I carefully tried to re seat the wire, and got it to arc a bit less, but it was growing late, so I filed the information and went to work.

After work I went to the auto parts store and purchased the correct cables for just under $30, took about 5 minutes to install them(it is very, very easy) and now my 11 year old car is running like I just bought her. And there was much rejoicing.


Then I played lots of City of Heroes last night, though only the last hour was accompanied. I really hope that once I start my new job I can better synchronize my playing to the others of the group. I also caught up on the recorded shows that have built up over the last few weeks. This morning I slept in til 5, played more COH, and just finished getting the house clean. Now I'm going for a bike ride to the store, and then it will be back to Paragon City to beat up more bad guys.

Before I go, though, I have one question. Do you get as pissed off as I do when some person in line ahead of you at a store treats the cashier like they are not even there. This woman, who may be a sweet, wonderful person to her friends and family, was ahead of me at Publix this morning, and she acted as if the girl trying to serve her was less than a machine. I wanted to slap the woman, but instead I was especially nice to the girl when it became my turn, and made extra sure to make eye contact and thank her when she finished ringing me up. I don't know if she noticed, but I like to think that small kindnesses like that maintain some sort of universal balance. What do you think?

Peace out,
Marius

Friday, May 18, 2007

Feeling Stronger Every Day

As I grow older I struggle with a strange, though surely not unique, dichotomy. I have but one short week left in my sentence at Blake High School, yet since each passing moment moves me closer to that undiscovered country I have trouble wanting the time to pass quickly. 'Tis wonderous strange, to want to speed up the clock, yet stop it at the same time. But one thing is undeniable, the closer I get to my great escape, the better I feel. And the better I feel, the more blogging I do. And that's another weirdness. In my youth, it was angst and great pain that drove me to write endless reams of emo drivel. Now it is contentment that inspires. And the weirdest thing is that the more content I am with my life, the more free I am to be outraged at the assholes and idiots of the world.

And so, true believers, I pray thee bear with me but a short time more. Soon I shall scour the news for those tidbits of lunacy and eggregiousness that have, prior to last August, appeared here in abundance. Soon my soul will be replenished, and the vitriol and bile that has been so focused 'pon the aggrivating youth of my pain, shall once more be trained upon more worthy recipients. Be warned, Shrub Prince and your soulless Dick...I'm a coming for ya!

Love and kisses,
Marius