Sweet Cinematic Relief

Finally, a couple of tiny lights shine through the dark pool of cinematic swill.....

The Lives of Others--An excellent story that takes place during the 80's in East Germany, and gives a glimpse of life underneath the watchful eye of the Stasi. A calm yet powerful look at the surveillance state and the people struggling underneath its massive weight and scope. A well-spent 2 1/2 hours.

Juno--Thank You for Smoking was a decent show, but Jason Reitman knocked it out with this one.

No big drawn out reviews, just a hearty recommend on both.

Apprehension, Xanadu, and the Baby Jesus

Tonight, the world will witness something not seen in at least a decade.

I will enter a church for Christmas Eve service. It's true.

Don't worry, it's not like I was Slain in the Spirit while buying chips or anything. The in-laws wanted us to come, and being filled with the Christmas, X-mas, Holiday, Kwanzah, and Hannukah Spirit, I have assented. The church not being of the Hellfire and Brimstone persuasion helps in this regard, but it would be dishonest to say that I'm not a bit apprehensive about the whole deal. Churches in general just creep me out, they always have, mostly for the ritual and the show that so many are insistent on being part of. It seems like just another one of the "extra" church events where the really good ones can show up to get some extra credit from Jesus.

I'm not saying this one will be like that, and in fact I doubt that it will be given its non-denominational, universalist bent. But like I said, given where I come from, apprehensiveness still whispers, a little behind and to the left (it's difficult to say if that's the devil or the angel on my shoulder...it might just be schizophrenia--heh).

Also joining us will be Grandmother-in-law, which may represent the toughest challenge of the evening. I must follow the One Rule: Don't say "fuck" in front of Grandma. This is more difficult than many might think, since Me Driving=Everlasting String of Profanity in most cases. It's my coping mechanism, it makes me feel better. However, I'm determined to internalize it this evening, although this may cause me to let loose a string right in the middle of service, which leads me to wonder....if such a thing happened, could I get away with it by saying I was channeling the Holy Ghost and he is very, very angry with all of you?

Yeah, somehow I doubt it too.

I'll have to make sure that they're aware that they should be happy I didn't wear my 'Jesus Shaves' t-shirt and commit Most High Sacrilege. I love that t-shirt, and am of the mind that Jesus loves it as well, but the prevailing wind over the past few centuries is that Jesus does not have a sense of humor.

Seriously, if we're created in His Image, doesn't it follow that he would find the humor in the solemn absurdity of the War on Christmas and Other Assorted Very Serious Issues bandied about by the Christian Soldiers this time of year? I'd like to think so.

I'm going to assume that he also understands and won't hold it against me that I may have to scrounge a Xanadu before the festivities. Many might hold that The Most High frowns on the use of prescription drugs, and I think that may be correct, at least where dependency on them is concerned. However, I think he would understand their spare use in order to usher in a more relaxed and worshipful experience, and to prevent the saying of "fuck" in front of Grandma.

The Baby Jesus doesn't want that, and frankly, neither do I.

(Holliest and Jolliest Christmas wishes to all--The Heads)

Rogue PIctures, Fox, the WB and how I got fucked last evening

Remember that last post, the one where I said "hopefully not disappointed" in reference to watching the Simpsons?

Yeah. Let's all go ahead and take a moment to consider those hopes as they lay dashed on the shoals of ruined imagination (wow, what an insanely crappy sentence...fuckit, I can't help myself).

This is not a case of "Expectations were too high and I set myself up". Indeed, it is generally (I believe) an accurate prediction that an animated series getting its own movie can be relied upon to be at least one description level lower than its general series description.* For example, in the case of the aforementioned Simpsons movie, it would be natural to assume that what (for the most part) has been a Great series will spawn a motion picture that is merely Good, or a level lower still, Decent.

*a notable exception to this, I think, would be the South Park Movie, a movie that was at least as good, if not better than the series.

Disappointment begins making its way in when the realization comes home that the movie on the screen warrants a lower descriptor. Much lower. My raging disappointment with The Simpsons is such that it's become difficult to decide between "travesty" and "omigod, does Matt Groening also whore his children at the truck stop if the price is right?" Doubtless, the answer (like most things) lies somewhere in between, but damned if I can think of what that might be.

Moving on, but, since we're on the subject....

Let's talk some more about the movies I watched and how I feel about them.

Good, I'm glad you're still here since I will take this to mean that you also think this is a good idea. Those other people that left just now? Well, fuck them.

I'd like to talk about Balls.


































of Fury. (pardon my clumsy use of base humor)

Not even the most intellectually devoid could harbor illusions regarding the quality of this movie. Normally, even Bad films (not to be confused with Horrid) can be at least partially redeemed (in the "hey, it had its moments, I haven't entirely wasted the last 90 minutes of my life" sense) by the presence of Christopher Walken, who lies in that wonderful space of acting talent that is both very bad and very fantastic at the same time. It is the same in every movie, with only slight variations and relies primarily on the movie which surrounds it, like Christian Slater, but without the urge to gouge my eyes out and seal my ears shut. Not so with Balls of Fury. It wasn't the lame humor...the movie itself was just plain fucking lazy, in the vein of Taladega Nights or Blades of Glory (incidentally, it is these last two which prompted the vow to never lay my eyes on another feature-length Will Farrell movie as long as I live--truly, 4 hours of my life completely wasted). Literally, I think someone pushed the comedy button the Rogue Pictures Script-o-Matic, but only on 25% power in order to save on the electric bill (gotta be "green", you know).

The short version? "Mindless Entertainment" would be entirely too generous. Walken couldn't even earn this one a minor redemption.

And last, but certainly not least....let's leave movies for a moment and talk a bit about a series called Smallville. Yeah, the one that comes out of the WB Teen Script-o-Matic bosom. I didn't want to take it from the friends who were pushing the DVD's like the CIA pushing crack into the ghettos. It's the WB, which basically means that it would be better for your brain if you ate an entire sheet of acid. Nonetheless, coerced as we were by the protestations of "It's cheesy, but it's really cool" (and other variations of this same theme), we took them and promised to "give them a chance". Over the last couple of weeks, we have done so.

It's bad. It's really really bad. It so fucking bad I was reaching for the home tracheotomy kit to try and open another airway, so large were the demands of my gasping.

(is this alienating anyone?)

In contrast to the The Simpsons Movie or Balls of Fury, which simply left me annoyed and in a generally bad mood, I can at least handle Smallville to an extent. It's very fucking bad, but with a wholesome tinge so benign in feeling that I find it difficult to be too annoyed. Rather, I don't mind having it on, as I can do other things while the painful nature of the dialogue delivered by acting-folk that defy description makes me giggle and/or laugh out loud. I can just hear the set....Director--I need you to show me angst! Actor/Actress--Ummm...angry?

But here's the thing that gets me. It's not the show per se. As I stated in a very roundabout way above, I don't despise the show (at least not nearly to the extent that I despise, say, The Today Show). Smallville is what it is. What bakes my noodle dark is the sheer amount of people I've run across who "love" this show and rave about how "cool" it is. That is not hyperbole, it is not exaggeration, and this is exactly what perplexes me. If an "adult" is watching this, and talking about it to others, I don't think it's unreasonable to expect at least something to the effect of "it's so bad, it's good". However, I have yet to come across anything like this. The words "love it" and "really cool" are uttered in nearly every single instance with no irony whatsoever, and this seems a loud comment on what should be described as an intellectual emergency.

Bad special effects, worse acting, and filled to the brim with the most transparent and scripted pop-culture platitudes imaginable. This is cool? This is what keeps people riveted?

And this is where I'll stop, since I've gone off in a direction that wasn't intended and that requires more words and time than I've got at the moment.

Short version? Don't watch The Simpsons Movie. Don't watch Balls of Fury. And if you must watch Smallville, be careful that you don't wake up one morning to find yourself brain dead.

UPDATE: Reading this made Mrs. Head want to watch Smallville. Her excuse is, "I'm pregnant." I tried telling her it's going to make the baby stupid....my household is doomed.

Don't call me Fat Head

Call me, In Shape Head.

The Honda is free. Very Lincoln-ish of me.

Former prison.

It is quite a limp tree.

That's me, getting totally ripped.

Shortly after last night's post, my Interwebs quit. They just came back, which is great, but the Netflix's just dropped The Simpsons on me, and well Homer wins for tonight.

Back later, hopefully not disappointed.

My Remorseful Wang

I've been spending the last few weeks doing work on another project, which I can hopefully announce (and start flogging) sometime around the New Year. And that's where I've been the last few weeks. I'm trying to leave out the fact that the two of us have been doing some moping around due to missing the Vegas festivities, and I know you're not supposed to say this in the context of poker....but I'm gonna say it anyway--Rooster was due. Big ups.

Pregnancy. My anti-Vegas.

I would have had a picture to accompany that, but the Mrs. prefers not to be pregnant on the Interwebs, and really, who can blame her. Just picture her as you have known her, plus one-third. ETA, two months to Spawn Emergence, and the prospect is a bit more frightening than it was. Frightening, mostly because this kid is ridiculously active, which means that Mrs. H is increasingly getting kicked in the kidneys, lungs, bladder, etc., which increasingly compels me to apologize for the offending penis that launched us into The Breeding Leagues to begin with. Sleep, bye bye. Time, bye bye. Money, bye bye (adjusting to tis should be easier given there was never much of this to begin with).

We also still do not have a name. This late in the game I think it may be starting to annoy the relatives, but there's little that can be done about that. We've largely stopped trying at the moment because everything is starting to run together and we're both exhausted with the sheer amount of intolerably stupid names to wade through in the search for a reasonable candidate.

Seriously, fucking Stokely? That's not a name, it sounds like a brand of vegetable.

How about Golden Palace.com? If there's going to be a stupid name, I'm of the mind that it should be to the furthest reaches of stupid and we should be paid. After all, it won't be that many years and she could have it legally changed. Perhaps a yearly fee could be negotiated....mmmm, recurring income......

***********

In further news, Mama Nature is busy making me realize just how out of shape I've become.




That's close to two feet of snow, in the last day-and-a-half....with another 9-13 inches to follow the rest of today and tonight. I'm in awe. I haven't seen this much snow since I was 7, or so. I'm keeping the Audi dug out, but as you can see I basically left the Honda to be buried. It's dead weight.

I spend three hours shoveling snow yesterday, and will have clocked nearly four today after it's all said and done. My forearms are hollering at me as I type, no thanks to the circa 1937 snow shovel I've been using. It's all wood and metal, weighs in at about 6 lbs, and that's with no snow sticking to it, which it does since the metal scoop is rusted. It is completely kicking my ass.

I'm enjoying the hell out of it, although it is entirely possible this outlook could change as it persists. I wish I could say the same for Mrs. H, as it seems late stage pregnancy and snow aren't pairing up too well, but she's being awfully stoic considering she's being internally beaten and having her life force ceaselessly being sucked away.

I should probably stop here and go apologize for my penis again. Back later.

MP's Behaving Badly

MP's behaving badly in front of their new supranational masters.

Daily Mail--

"British UKIP, Eurosceptic Conservatives and Polish far-right MEPs today brought the hooligan behaviour of the football stadium into the European Parliament", Graham Watson, leader of the assembly's Liberals told Reuters.

"They are a disgrace to their countries."

Translation: Be polite to the new bosses. No, it doesn't matter if the people of Europe don't want to be ruled from Brussell's, that decision was made back in the 50's. Newer, improved, and more free "constituional" rules state that people are allowed to be displeased, but only if they voice that displeasure in a polite manner.

Still though, pretty cool of these MP's. I'm looking forward to seeing this kind of demonstration from Congress on a variety of issues very shortly.

To go with the billion dollars I'm looking forward to seeing underneath my pillow.

Which I will place in the saddlebags of the magical pony set to ferry me over an ice cream rainbow.

You're not dying fast enough

Mein Gott im Himmel.

Truly unbelievable. Don't take to long to eat your mound of saturated goodness. Here's the real kicker....

Several weeks later, he received a letter from Civil Enforcement demanding £125, or £75 if the charge was paid quickly.

Okay. So. If I go up to a guy and demand $250, for sitting too long (in written citation form, or course. You can't just say things like this, someone might think they're being robbed), but offer to halve it if he pays me now instead of in two weeks...I can use that as a business model? That's not seedy mafia extortion shit?

Here's another one.

Civil Enforcement=Ampco's Ambition

No, everything is not fine.

Not even close.

A Thanksgiving Tale

My wife and I have many times wondered aloud whether the dumber of our two dogs, Stella, if given the opportunity, would eat herself to death if presented with a virtually unlimited pile of food. Is Stella, who purports to be of dog-kind, really more goldfish or shark?

Last night brought us the answer.

I cooked two meals this Thanksgiving, which I thought would be awful. While it required more kitchen time than one would normally want, the positives much outweighed the negatives as it offered two opportunities for wanton gluttony. Ridiculous, really, but no less fun. A lot of people think Thanksgiving is a dead or useless holiday, and while it's true that very few have any idea what it's about beyond the national tradition of gorging oneself, it is definitely not dead in this house. I personally give Thanksgiving more weight than Christmas, as I value a good meal above being given a bunch of crap I never needed to begin with.

I'm relating this because during the course of both Thanksgiving meals, our food-obsessed canine was being driven nuts. You could see it in her eyes since, for the last couple of years, the dogs get Thanksgiving scraps. This year we decided to put the kibbosh on that practice, as the flatulence created by said scraps is frankly intolerable. And of course, the dogs, who can't remember anything beyond the basic command of "sit" and the word "biscuit" (the schnauzer intellect being the polar opposite of "prodigious") sat there and looked like we were carving their hearts out along with the bird because, after all, don't they usually get some?

Which brings us to the minor emergency of last night, or as it might also be called, 'Stella gets into the holiday spirit in spite of the egregious Scrap Denial.'

After a day of feasting on our vast trove of leftovers and wandering in and out of a mellow tryptophan haze, we made preparations to retire, which means it's time to let the dogs out one last time. Normally they get a few minutes and a quick cry of "Who wants a biscuit?" brings them in (that, and the 15 degree temp). Last night though, nothing. And remember, this is the dog for whom no danger is too great in pursuit of something edible, up to and including piles of shit.

I waited, called, went back inside, made sure all the doors were shut tight, went back out and called, went back inside (remember, it's fucking 15 degrees) and started to worry a bit, put on something a bit warmer and went out to smoke and do some real waiting. True to form, and as any smoker will tell you, if you are sick of waiting for something (say, a ride) just light up a smoke and whatever you are waiting on will suddenly appear (unfortunately, this does not work with things like the lottery or a truckload of fine steaks. I'm theorizing that this is likely because these things are never actually expected to arrive, which begs the question, do I simply need to twist my brain around to the point where I really DO expect these things to show up? Shhhh, it's The Secret.). True to this, as soon as I lit my smoke, here comes Stella at a leisurely pace. I assumed she must have been too far away to hear "Biscuit", which normally prompts a full-bore sprint.

Once we got inside where the light was better, she just stood there staring at me with her tail tucked. This had me running through the list of things that she might have just done that she knew she shouldn't be doing...like eating massive piles of dung. She was licking her chops a lot. A shaking of the revulsion of the thought when it also occurred to me that she does the tail tuck thing when she feels bad, which has only been twice in four years. Well, make that three times.

As I stared down at her, I swear I could see her getting fatter right before my eyes. She was transforming into a salt and pepper version of her cousin Lily, a schnauzer of equal height and length, but triple the girth. Truly, Lily is astonishing to the unprepared, as the space she occupies is neither "toy" nor "miniature".

I reached down to feel her belly and truly my eyes weren't deceiving me. She was swelling up. It was like a massive hemorrhage as her whimpers and shaking rapidly began increasing. There are no emergency vets in these parts, and after confirming the fact with the Mrs. who was now downstairs helping to attend, the both of us sat wondering if we were just going to have to sit around and watch the dog die. Seriously, what in god's name could she have possible eaten to cause this.

Enter the Googles. (who now officially tops this years list of Things for which I am Thankful) Time to search for things that will induce vomiting in a dog. The first few sites stated the obvious in suggesting Ipecac, which we don't have. However, a bit more trawling the webs brought another alternative, so if you live with painfully stupid and hopelessly food-obsessed animals take note. Two teaspoons of hydrogen peroxide will do the trick.

Stella was fine within ten minutes. What she left on the floor, however, was not fine. Not fine at all.

Somewhere out there, she evidently got a hold of a goodly portion of a Thanksgiving meal that someone threw out. Even after some thorough investigating today, we still haven't located the source to determine if she got into someone's trash or if someone had simply thrown it outside for the animals and she just happened to be the first on the scene. On our floor lay close to five pounds of potatoes, carrots, turkey and various other food items. That's quite literally one-third of her body weight, and I marveled at the scope of her single-minded gluttony. While we were relieved that the dog was not going to be dying in front of us, the waves of revulsion returned as the stomach contents revealed that for an appetizer Stella had also consumed a giant pile of shit.

Nice. So much for that odor-free holiday we were going for by not giving the dogs any leftovers. And of course, the answer to our question is a resounding "Yes".

Amazing and horrifying, for you on this post-Thankgiving.

Never Question Authority

This morning I woke up and sat down to teh emails and the googles, and BG had sent me this:

You Gotta Ask Me Nicely.

Tasers on Thanksgiving. Hell, they both start with a 't' so why not? A morning screed while I wait on sweet potatoes the size of my dogs (seriously, these things are going to take close to 3 hours).

The taser is everywhere, and each day brings news of a fresh incident. Diabetic coma? Don't speak the native language? In a wheelchair and mentally ill? It doesn't matter, you're getting tased. You will come under the thumb (or should that be fist?). You will submit. You will know, intimately, pain compliance.

These are only three incidents in a pile that grows ever larger. What's missing? That's right. Any meaningful consequences for the bully boy cops that do this kind of thing. Because they 'serve and protect'. Because they wear a uniform, and are part of the fraternal order given leave to wield any authority it wants. Who needs courtesy, or knowledge of actual rights/laws, when you have a taser and "post-9/11" mentality. You don't. You can tase whomever you choose, as long as you say the word 'reasonable' and/or 'suspected' somewhere. Then you can go to Hooters and impress the young girlies with your manly exploits.

How dare I criticize the boys in blue (that aren't wearing so much blue anymore, but rather black tactical gear). To be sure, lest those that are hard of thinking accuse me of vilifying ALL police, there do exist good police, and yes, it is a difficult job. But what percentage of these bully boys running amok and tasering people because they didn't "respect their authoritae" actually see any meaningful consequences? It barely registers on the scale.

Cut to another Drop Dead Gorgeous dramatization:

Gratuitous use of force? Brutality? Shit no. After some thorough investigating we determined that they were acting reasonably in the face of bad vibes. Bad vibes usually means a drunk and/or drugged terrorist. We've given them some paid leave to think about what they've done and how they might have done it better.

What people desperately need to think about, instead of making excuses for rotten, corrupt, ignorant, authoritarian bullies, are the consequences brought on by the lack of consequences. Lack of consequences for bad cops means that the good cops are driven out. A cop doing the job as it was meant to be done cannot survive in an environment where the mantra has gone from 'protect and serve' to 'coerce and enforce'. Every day that this goes on, and with every incident, a good cop gets fed up and leaves, or is pushed out due to his inability/unwillingness to 'get with the program', and the pool of scum creeps outward just a little more.

The argument is made everywhere that the taser is a humane alternative to the gun. Tasers are not a good thing because they are "non-lethal". They are just the opposite. The "non-lethal" (and it's weird how "non-lethal" has killed so many...) is nothing more than an excuse to inflict pain and anguish, and to assert control (justified or not) on a whim. Take some time and think about what kind of person desires to do these things. Replace a taser with a gun in any of these daily 'incidents' and just imagine what it would look like, what the outcry would be (and should be).

But now the collective head turns away, because after all, it's "non-lethal". Point-and-shoot, set it and forget it, not much different than the video shooters. "Non-lethal" means everyone watching can grab their remote, point-and-shoot, set it and forget it. It's difficult to decide which is more horrifying. The police that do these things or the media/mass mind that allows and even encourages (in many cases) it to continue.

By their actions you will know them

Occupational Perception

OMIGODZ! EXIT MEENZ BLUDBATHZ!

In Basra, violence is a tenth of what it was before British pullback, general says - International Herald Tribune

British officials expected a spike in such "intra-militia violence" after they pulled back from the city's center, and were surprised to find none, Binns said.

-Saddam has WMD. Lie.
-We're bringing freedom to Iraq. Lie
-The war will cost practically nothing. Lie.
-Withdrawl will unleash bloodshed and violence heretofore untold. Worse than we ever could have created ourselves. Lie.

And on and on and on and on and on. Trying to gather in all of the lies of the last seven years (to say nothing of the last 100) would be like trying to catch all of the raindrops in a thunderstorm, so I'm not even going to try. Just these four placed next to one another is embarrassing enough.

But hell, it's not as though Congress, the media, or a very big portion of Amerika cares too much (at least, not enough of the portion that "matter" in this system--hint, it's not "The People" anymore, if it ever was). And why should they? Amerika is too exceptional, too civilized and modern and highminded, and frankly too incoherent (a nod, a wink, and a click click to you Friend Television) to actually do anything whatsoever to put a stop to government funding of unmitigated death, destruction, and suffering. Even as the "soft fascism" head turns its eyes toward us and continues its predatory advance with a speed that, while we were busy entertaining ourselves and apathetically observing, has done little else but gather strength over these many years.

Let's have a pause here for mock-shocked, deluded folks now screaming "You hate/blame America" (or some talking point variation thereof dropped into their empty vessel skulls courtesy the Talking Opinion Box) Grab a refreshement, take a leak--it might be a long pause.

Anyone thinking that the other side of the aisle has finally mustered the courage to save us with this latest fake pullout stunt attached to the $50 billion appropriations drop in the war bucket is also very sadly mistaken. Go read the legislation. The circumference of the loopholes contained within are so huge the outline isn't even isn't within eyeshot. But you'd never know that by reading the major headlines presented. Digressions within a hodgepodge of digressions.

In reading the article, I'm sure many have noticed that the Brits haven't "pulled out", not completely anyway. They've relocated from the palace in city center to the airport. Redeployed. That's a term you'll see a lot of in that appropriations bill with all of the oh-so-firm-and-courageous "withdrawl provisions". Which brings me to one of my favorite parts of the article:

"We've been in that de facto role since we moved out of the palace...but we hope the (December) transfer will symbolize the end of a period many in Basra city perceived as occupation," [Major General] Binns said.

Perceived. The Iraqi's "perceive" it to be an occupation. Really? It's only their perception? Because I could have sworn that "occupation" is exactly what it was, and IS, given its basic and simple definition. Of course nothing in this world anymore should be basic and simple to understand, because if it was, what will all of the experts do with their time if they can't spend it explaining to us the intricacies of changes applied to once simple concepts?

The general, speaking unchallenged through the echo chamber media, wants to make sure you know that it's not exactly an occupation, but rather a perception of such.

Take War, for example. A bunch of people are told by a few people to go kill a whole bunch of other people so those few can impose their will. See? Distilled down it is simple. But we are constantly reminded how complicated and extremely delicate is the geopolitics of it all, and not to worry our pretty little heads, our Strong and Courageous Leaders will handle all of it because they've been doing this their entire lives--their resumes are strong with Public Service Gravitas and General Seriousness. Secrecy and lies? Well, that's just all part of the "game", isn't it? If you were richer, or smarter, or had better connections, or perhaps better genetics (as we will increasingly hear) perhaps you would be in the game. But you're not. You're not a "success" in this system, so better to let your betters handle things. Quick, the next episode of Can the American Idols Dance? is about air and you don't want to miss your chance to text message and vote for your favorite.

Use of the word "perceived" does nothing but make an effort to subtly reinforce the notion that the current illegal and murderous occupation is something other than just that--an illegal and murderous occupation that is genocidal in its numbers of dead and displaced. Occupation is not "perception". Either foreign troops are present and imposing their will, or they are not. Simple.

And now it's being plastered everywhere there's an eyeball or an ear that we now have to take the party next door to Iran. See lie numero uno above, replace Saddam with Iran, and voila--another miscalculation with good faith intent.

The really depressing thing is that it looks as though those who percieve the lies as truth, who perceive themselves as being free, who cannot perceive their own demise because any and all survival instinct has been homogenized and info-tained away, will let it happen.

When lies have been exposed and go unpunished, we are culpable. In the face of past falsehoods, when further lies are swallowed and cheered, we are culpable. We are paying the bill now, and will pay an even harsher tab in the future, and not just physically because of the economics of the thing. We will also pay psychically, when finally the full and uninhibited light of day is fully shed upon our vicious actions. That day that is coming where no one will be able to look away from that empty spot where empathy once lived. No partisanship, ignorance, good intentions, or any other dispassionate and academic sounding adjective will be able to effectively apply.

And so much for that (what was intended to be a short post)--what was the point of another anti-war tirade? The points are many, but for tonight, it was prompted by the question of where to be counted. When it all shakes out, where will we as individuals be counted? Will I be counted in the end as one who swallowed the lies? Even worse, might I be one counted as so gleefully ignorant that I didn't care to recognize the lie in the first place? Someone without the will to show a human level of disdain for the constant psychopathic barrenness continually heaped onto our consciousness? Will I accept with the daily redefining of words like "occupation" as something perceived rather than a decidedly real state of affairs?

No, No, and Hell No. The tirades must continue, lest I wake up one day and find that I also have been counted amongst the prevailing emptiness.

Annie Duke testifies for online poker

Also, check the Salon article where this came from.

Strategic Thrusting for Defensive Purposes

From the folks that brought you Total Information Awareness....

DARPA Strategic Thrusts--

Robust, secure, self-forming networks

Hooray! New social networking possibilites with my new uber-handheld. SETI at Starbucks, look at how green and techno-hip I am. Or, possibly...drop a bunch of security rovers onto a sector, let them all link up and find each other, and organize the most efficient patrol routes. Boy, bet you could equip those with all kinds of good stuff (all "non-lethal" of course).

Detection, Precision ID, Tracking, and Destruction of Elusive Targets

Does this one even really need a comment?

Urban Area Operations

Translation: Less war on the sea. Less in the sky. Less in the field. More in the city. Psst...that's where most people live or are being driven to.

Advanced Manned and Unmanned Systems

I'll be able to sleep while my autonomous hydrogen pleasuremobile ferries me to my job in the new 'service economy'. Neat. But the sky full of unmanned surveillance drones makes me sad (I think we should go back to talking about the pleasuremobile--I would fry bacon in mine--actually my Rhoombu [tler] (Rhoomba's parent company by this time has gone with a phonetic branding strategy, you see) will be doing it for me.)

Detection, Characterization, and Assessment of Underground Structures

Does this mean we get to find out what's in Iron Mountain OR does is just mean our Leaders will shortly be proclaiming "We're helping to keep America's basements Terrorist-Free"? My bad, I forgot. It's so we can find the Iranian nukes that are hidden away with Saddam's WMD.

Space

Ummmmmm.....just "Space".

Increasing tooth and tail ratio

From WSJ--

We speak of the tooth-to-tail ratio, though it usually makes more sense to talk about tail-to-tooth: How many men must there be behind the front doing unglamorous work to make it possible to put one man directly into combat? In some cases it's greater than 10 to 1.

Christ, a person could spend an entire day just on the WSJ article. Summary: War is going to increase in cost, as well as attendant size. Not to worry though. This is us "evolving" and is in no way directed.

Bio-Revolution

"Bio", having to do with living processes, and "revolution", a sudden, radical, or complete change. Why does DARPA have interest in funding things that will promote a sudden, radical, or complete change on the living processes in or around us? Well that one could certainly go in some wildly divergent directions.....

Core Technologies

Encompass broad areas much, DARPA?

'Stategic Thrust' Me. We're so 'Strategically Thrusted'.

(I'm hearing "but DARPA gave us the Interwebs!" cries already. Remember, you are given a reason/explanation, and then there's the real reason/explanation.)

A Brief Glimpse

Worth the time to read the entire thing. It helps to clear another smudge from the surface we're given. Keep cleaning the glass.

Metroactive Features | Robots

Part of the reason University of Texas at Austin computer scientist Benjamin Kuipers stopped taking military financing is that he's seen colleagues wind up in places they'd never imagined themselves.



"DARPA and ONR and other DOD agencies support quite a lot of research that I think is valuable and virtuous," he says. "However, there is a slippery slope that I have seen in the careers of a number of colleagues. You start work on a project that is completely fine. Then when renewal time comes, and you have students depending on you for support, your program officer says that they can continue to fund the same work, but now you need to phrase the proposal using an example in a military setting. Same research, but just use different language to talk about it. OK. Then when the time comes for the next renewal, the pure research money is running a bit low, but they can still support your lab if you can work on some applications that are really needed by the military application. OK. ... Then for the next round, you need to make regular visits to the military commanders, convincing them that your innovation will really help them in the field. And so on. By the end of a decade or two, you have become a different person from the one you were previously. You look back on your younger self, shake your head, and think, 'How naive.'"

Coming Soon (Updated)

Georgia to lift State of Emergency--

“I am authorised to declare on behalf of the Georgian government that emergency rule will be lifted on November 16 on all the country’s territory,” Burjanadze told a news briefing.

[...]

Burjanadze’s spokeswoman said later that although the emergency rule would be lifted on Nov. 16, the restrictions -- including bans on public meetings and independent media -- would be lifted a day later.

Seeing those "state of the art" gas masks made me think of this:


And this:



Perhaps there's something to that concept of predictive programming after all....

Internal Editor is Loud

I tried taking to heart the sage advice of Garth. Honestly, I did. The painful process of typing out this post has me thinking specifically of this:

If you pay the Internal Editor any attention you are almost guaranteeing that you are going to self-combust before you hit 10,000 words.

Indeed, it is so very true. My story goes something along the lines of me banging out 1500-2500 word chunks that were completely disparate, relating in only the loosest of ways. Goddamn depressing, but swallowing my bitter pill will at least allow me to return focus to a previous project. Hell, my starting on NaNo was more likely only an excuse to stop plugging away at that to begin with.

(It's here that all I can think about is Homer eating flowers...."Oh! My secret shame!")

Consider me self-combusted, at least for now. It is with no small amount of shame that I must remove my participant banner.

It Has Begun

I find it completely impossible to think of anything but Mortal Kombat when I look at that title.

Indeed, it has begun. NaNoWriMo-the masochist ritual practiced by thousands.

Join me. You know you want to.

I skipped last year for a variety of reasons, none of which are worth going on about here. I achieved the goal of 50K the year before that, but did not finish the project, which I may or may not still have due to a fit of self-loathing that caused me to delete the work (or, what I'm hoping was just one of many copies scattered about, but I'm too afraid to look. If it is truly gone I'll have to beat myself up, perhaps literally this time.)

The idea has finally begun to take some real shape, but any attempts to make me genre-ize it will be met with swift and terrible rebuttal. Trying to make me give it a label and fit in a pen....how dare you, sir!

Excerpt to come shortly. I'm excited about this one.

(and seriously, join me. The more to people to act as whips, the better)

Absolute Poker breach

This has probably already made the rounds, but hell, just in case.

This is, after all, a poker blog.

Heh.

'Geek’ blamed for online poker cheating - Security - MSNBC.com

“(He) can see the cards, and you can put my name on that,” said Roy Cooke, who was head of security at the pioneering poker site Planetpoker.com for six years.

“When people are doing things out of character and consistently doing it right, there’s a reason for it,” he said. “When they’re always playing the hand that has value in a situation and then folding a great hand when it has value, they can see the cards.”

My Special Powers

It's true. It must be.

At elevation 4800 with winter approaching we've been getting "weather". However, it tends to come in fits and starts. Some rain here, a cold wind there, then out comes the sun--for 6 minutes, and then we begin again.

Finally I decided to open my pie hole and hold forth about the weather conditions and how it would be nice if they were a little more consistent. "If it's gonna rain, I wish it would just rain" was the exact comment, I believe.

Evidently, Jesus heard me and gave a call to Shiva the Destroyer. The wheels of the deity-sponsored I-Didn't-Realize-I-Made-A-Wish Foundation turned quickly and beginning with snow yesterday morning, it has been precipitating in one form or another (mostly cold rain, hard and fast) for the last 36 hours straight.

(Hard and fast. I just made myself giggle laugh. I am ridiculously juvenile.)

There is another theory, however, given that the above just doesn't hold water* (and apparently, neither does the yard, anymore). Much more plausible is the theory that I may have as yet undiscovered special powers--specifically powers of calling forth things from the sky. Nothing so fancy as Elijah calling down fire from the heavens to devour the Ba'al worshipers, but still, potentially impressive.

*Because Shiva isn't real. Unlike the Lord of Hosts, you filthy pagan.

The only thing left to do is find out where the connection lies between my comments and the spicy pork dish of two days ago which led to a never before seen poo dance, which I think may have been an ancient and (up to now) long forgotten Precipitation Dance of some sort.

If it starts raining bacon next week, you'll know I figured it out.

You'll also know who to thank.

(this post has been brought to you by the twins boredom and frustration, aka politics and ActionScript)