After such a lengthy hiatus from movie going, I choose to return to a weekly venture rounded out by... hold steady... Saw II and That Other Zorro Movie
Saw II was easily the squirmiest thing I've ever seen in a theater. But, I didn't see Jaws in a theater. The opening scene was the only time I've ever actually closed my eyes at a movie. For good reason though. Anyone who knows me can attest to my inability to allow simple eye drops into my eyes. This scene played on every aspect of that aversion. On the whole, I can say the movie was "o.k.". But, I haven't seen the first one and don't particularly care for fare such as this.
That Other Zorro Movie was awful. Don't waste your time or money. Members of my family are obligated to see Zorro on television and in film for reasons known only to us. I wish I'd stayed home. Zorro wasn't about saving the world or even just the United States, people. He certainly wasn't indirectly involved with the American Civil War. Horrid. Horrid. Horrid. Zorro the Gay Blade did the overall story more justice than this tripe.
The good news is:
1. Harry Potter IV shall be released soon. It's sure to be an enjoyable romp through a world that doesn't exist. Children need more fantasy and escape, as far as I'm concerned.
2. Likewise The Lion the Witch and the Wardrobe will follow shortly thereafter. Yes, Lewis's stories are frequently allegory for Christianity, but I didn't read them that way when I was a child, nor did I hear them that way when they were read to me. They were simply a story of a wonderful place where children could be heroes. And that is what imagination is all about.
3. Finally King Kong. Peter Jackson is the man. At least, we hope he stays the man and doesn't become George "I'll Sell Out For Any Buck" Lucas or Stephen "I'm the Greatest Director Ever So I Can Change Any Writer's Story To My Heart's Content" Spielberg. But, I digress. King Kong looks impressive. Surprisingly, Jack Black seems to be walking into the film director's role quite well, without playing "himself". And Naomi Watts actually seems to suit the leading lady's role a bit better even than Faye Wray did. Blasphemy, I know. But, it just seems to work so well.
Granted, Jackson has an entire warehouse full of computers capable of more stunning effects than the original. But, his choice to be faithful to the setting and time of the original is simply awesome.
SQL> Select * From Movies Where Suck = False;
Monday, October 31, 2005
Friday, October 28, 2005
The Pitter Patter...
My teammate and his wife welcomed their second child at 0219, this morning. Miranda Ivy will leave the hospital this weekend and we're all looking forward to meeting her. Congratulations Agro and AgroGirl on AgroGirl V2.0!!!!
SQL> Select * From Mom Where Birthday <= Date( );
SQL> Select * From Mom Where Birthday <= Date( );
Monday, October 24, 2005
"DOOM"
Somebody's got a lot of explaining to do.
The game and it's 'plot' are very simple:
You're a Marine. You're stationed on Mars. Something goes wrong. Hell literally breaks loose. Everyone else becomes hellspawn. Here's a gun. Shoot a lot of stuff.
No one expected anything more than this from the movie. Really. We didn't have high expectations. We didn't want or need plot or character development. Much less the weak ass excuse for what was happening. We just wanted to see a lot of horrible looking things get shot. A lot. And then some more.
Let me just emphasize this point "a lot". Just do everything a lot.
Granted, the one thing I felt needed to happen, did happen. At the very end. Not at the beginning, like it should have happened, dammit. And it involved the obligatory lame ass hand to hand fight. BLAH.
GUNS
It's simple. Very simple. DOOM is credited with creating the "Big Fucking Gun". What more do we need?! Just shoot a lot of stuff a lot with a lot of cool guns!
*grrrrr*
SQL> Select Guns From PlotDevices Where Volume = 1,000,000,000;
The game and it's 'plot' are very simple:
You're a Marine. You're stationed on Mars. Something goes wrong. Hell literally breaks loose. Everyone else becomes hellspawn. Here's a gun. Shoot a lot of stuff.
No one expected anything more than this from the movie. Really. We didn't have high expectations. We didn't want or need plot or character development. Much less the weak ass excuse for what was happening. We just wanted to see a lot of horrible looking things get shot. A lot. And then some more.
Let me just emphasize this point "a lot". Just do everything a lot.
Granted, the one thing I felt needed to happen, did happen. At the very end. Not at the beginning, like it should have happened, dammit. And it involved the obligatory lame ass hand to hand fight. BLAH.
GUNS
It's simple. Very simple. DOOM is credited with creating the "Big Fucking Gun". What more do we need?! Just shoot a lot of stuff a lot with a lot of cool guns!
*grrrrr*
SQL> Select Guns From PlotDevices Where Volume = 1,000,000,000;
Wednesday, October 19, 2005
The Greatest Generation and I
My great-uncle George was the type of uncle, no matter the generation, every kid should have in their adolescence. Along with my other uncles, he managed to lighten and liven things up during family gatherings. He told jokes, ruffled our hair, let us watch television late, all while aiding and abetting our myriad delinquencies (cookie smuggling).
I remember him best as the family's chocolate-icing-bandit. It was a simple ploy, actually, nothing very clever, unique or, quite honestly, fresh. See, there's a gene in my family that compells many of us to flop chocolate cake on its side and eat the cake out from in between the icing with extreme care. Given our gene for obsessive compulsion, this becomes a very pains taking task, in which we ensure the icing does not collapse on itself and that all the cake is neatly picked away from the icing. Doing so leaves a carefully crafted "F" of sorts on your plate.
There are those, however, who did not receive this gene. My brother, who was known to shovel entire cakes into his maw, did not receive it. Nor did great-uncle George.
George would sit patiently at the dinner table watching my other uncles and those of us with the gene complete our task. Then, quite simply, he'd go for the lamest distraction technique known to man:
"Look! A dead bird flying!"
That's right, a dead bird flying. D-E-A-D dead. Croaked. Shuffled its mortal coil. No longer with us. Incapable of flight. Corpse. Worm food.
My uncle always looked in the direction indicated by George's left index finger. And without hesitation, George's right hand and fork always swooped down to the dupe's plate, scooped up the icing and delivered it to his mouth before said dupe discovered his fateful error. I'm not sure why my uncle let him get away with this silly trick so many times. Maybe he was just being kind. Maybe he was the witting straightman to George's comedy routine. I don't think I'll ever know.
The other thing I really know about my great-uncle George is that he fought in World War II. The story of his service has never been very clear to me. I know that he fought in the Pacific theater. I know that he was severely injured in the left hand. But I know little else. I was simply too young to be very aware of what he had done. I never asked him any questions, mostly because I didn't know what to ask.
He passed away thirteen years ago.
It wasn't until last week, that I fully appreciated the breadth of who this man was. I had the good fortune to meet a gentleman who had served with the famed Easy Company of the 506th Parachute Infantry Regiment. Being more familiar, now, with veterans, his modesty and humility seemed commonplace. But what really struck me was when we discussed how fame for Easy Company may be diminishing the sacrifices and great deeds of others from The Greatest Generation. Be they in the war, at home or after the war.
Grasping that I know so very little about my own family, contrasted by how much I know of a man I spoke with for two hours. For that reason, I write today of George and not the man I met at Baltimore Washington International.
Thank you for everything you did for us, George.
I remember him best as the family's chocolate-icing-bandit. It was a simple ploy, actually, nothing very clever, unique or, quite honestly, fresh. See, there's a gene in my family that compells many of us to flop chocolate cake on its side and eat the cake out from in between the icing with extreme care. Given our gene for obsessive compulsion, this becomes a very pains taking task, in which we ensure the icing does not collapse on itself and that all the cake is neatly picked away from the icing. Doing so leaves a carefully crafted "F" of sorts on your plate.
There are those, however, who did not receive this gene. My brother, who was known to shovel entire cakes into his maw, did not receive it. Nor did great-uncle George.
George would sit patiently at the dinner table watching my other uncles and those of us with the gene complete our task. Then, quite simply, he'd go for the lamest distraction technique known to man:
"Look! A dead bird flying!"
That's right, a dead bird flying. D-E-A-D dead. Croaked. Shuffled its mortal coil. No longer with us. Incapable of flight. Corpse. Worm food.
My uncle always looked in the direction indicated by George's left index finger. And without hesitation, George's right hand and fork always swooped down to the dupe's plate, scooped up the icing and delivered it to his mouth before said dupe discovered his fateful error. I'm not sure why my uncle let him get away with this silly trick so many times. Maybe he was just being kind. Maybe he was the witting straightman to George's comedy routine. I don't think I'll ever know.
The other thing I really know about my great-uncle George is that he fought in World War II. The story of his service has never been very clear to me. I know that he fought in the Pacific theater. I know that he was severely injured in the left hand. But I know little else. I was simply too young to be very aware of what he had done. I never asked him any questions, mostly because I didn't know what to ask.
He passed away thirteen years ago.
It wasn't until last week, that I fully appreciated the breadth of who this man was. I had the good fortune to meet a gentleman who had served with the famed Easy Company of the 506th Parachute Infantry Regiment. Being more familiar, now, with veterans, his modesty and humility seemed commonplace. But what really struck me was when we discussed how fame for Easy Company may be diminishing the sacrifices and great deeds of others from The Greatest Generation. Be they in the war, at home or after the war.
Grasping that I know so very little about my own family, contrasted by how much I know of a man I spoke with for two hours. For that reason, I write today of George and not the man I met at Baltimore Washington International.
Thank you for everything you did for us, George.
Friday, October 07, 2005
An Open Letter, to an Old Friend...
Dear Cyberdemon,
We've known each other quite some time, haven't we? I thought we had some great times in The Tower of Babel as well as in Tricks and Traps. You've always proven a worthy adversary, if not an intimidating one.
I'm sure you've been doing well, over the years. What with your ability to remanifest yourself in numerous and sundry realms or dimensions. How are the kids doing? They seemed in good spirit last night, when my fellow Marine and I decided to pay ya'll a visit.
We thought it very gracious of you to experiment with us, while we tested the new weapons the UAC has provided. That was quite a surprise. You see, we travelled down a lift, inside the Mars mines. At the bottom, we found a room filled to the brim with UAC weaponry and ammunition. Imagine our surprise, at this bounty from the corporation. Usually the suits are so stingy, when providing for those of us not in their direct employ. My counterpart was a bit suspicious of their motives, but I knew exactly what to expect.
I said, "We're going to visit our old friend! The Cyberdemon! Wow, I haven't seen him, since, well, since I played DOOM 2 last weekend!" I was elated. The thought of spending some time with such a good old friend was tremendous.
I do recall, however, you predilection for rough housing, so I spent a moment checking the status of each of the UAC provisions. I wanted to make sure I was prepared for a pleasant bout with you. Pleasant, indeed. Your new home has a great view and the fireplace was really cozy! Things had gotten so chilly on Mars, it was wonderful to warm up by the fire.
The children were excited to see us, that's fore sure. I really got a kick out of them, clambering up the chimney like that! You should be proud, they're really taking after you!
I hope you had as much fun as we did. I'm sorry the dimensional rift, by which you'd entered our continuum, was sealed up when we were done rough housing. You're such a clever demon, though, I have no doubt you'll need little time to find a new means by which to visit!
Say "Hello!" to the Spidermastermind for me. I hope she's doing well. I haven't seen her since ya'll married!
See ya in hell,
LiteraryAlchemist
We've known each other quite some time, haven't we? I thought we had some great times in The Tower of Babel as well as in Tricks and Traps. You've always proven a worthy adversary, if not an intimidating one.
I'm sure you've been doing well, over the years. What with your ability to remanifest yourself in numerous and sundry realms or dimensions. How are the kids doing? They seemed in good spirit last night, when my fellow Marine and I decided to pay ya'll a visit.
We thought it very gracious of you to experiment with us, while we tested the new weapons the UAC has provided. That was quite a surprise. You see, we travelled down a lift, inside the Mars mines. At the bottom, we found a room filled to the brim with UAC weaponry and ammunition. Imagine our surprise, at this bounty from the corporation. Usually the suits are so stingy, when providing for those of us not in their direct employ. My counterpart was a bit suspicious of their motives, but I knew exactly what to expect.
I said, "We're going to visit our old friend! The Cyberdemon! Wow, I haven't seen him, since, well, since I played DOOM 2 last weekend!" I was elated. The thought of spending some time with such a good old friend was tremendous.
I do recall, however, you predilection for rough housing, so I spent a moment checking the status of each of the UAC provisions. I wanted to make sure I was prepared for a pleasant bout with you. Pleasant, indeed. Your new home has a great view and the fireplace was really cozy! Things had gotten so chilly on Mars, it was wonderful to warm up by the fire.
The children were excited to see us, that's fore sure. I really got a kick out of them, clambering up the chimney like that! You should be proud, they're really taking after you!
I hope you had as much fun as we did. I'm sorry the dimensional rift, by which you'd entered our continuum, was sealed up when we were done rough housing. You're such a clever demon, though, I have no doubt you'll need little time to find a new means by which to visit!
Say "Hello!" to the Spidermastermind for me. I hope she's doing well. I haven't seen her since ya'll married!
See ya in hell,
LiteraryAlchemist
Tuesday, October 04, 2005
Monsters from the id...
...software anyway.
I cranked up cooperative DOOM 3 for the first time tonight on XBox Live. Now here's a different experience. Not only was it kinda cool to have some help in the game - "I'll keep my flashlight on, you blow the hell out of anything it lights up." - but it was odd playing with someone who thinks DOOM is properly referred to as "Classic Doom" and doesn't understand that DOOM 2 was a sequel released shortly after the original game, utilizing the same engine. heh. I felt old. Anyway, the guy who joined my game (call him "Night", gamertag edited to protect the innocent) was a pretty cool kid. No trash talking, no bashing me for wanting to play coop and he was pretty patient with my old ass.
Shortly after I picked up the rocket launcher (dumb luck, that), we started to hear something that sounded vaguely familiar. An odd sort of moaning, grunting roar. As we listened to it, the following conversation took place (I'll paraphrase):
:Night: "Dude, do you hear that?"
:Lit: "Yeah. And it sounds familiar."
:Night: "What do you mean?"
:Lit: "Sounds like a Chet."
:Night: "A Chet? What's that?"
[we're slowly and I do mean slowly picking our way through a series of narrow corridors at this point]
:Lit: "I'm not really sure how to describe him and I can't recall the proper name. Most of the names I use for the foul creatures in DOOM are the nicknames I used for them in game play back in the day. Like calling the Pinky Demon a Pink Meanie. Anyway, Chet was this big thing with a pair of cannons or something that spat high speed trios of unpleasantness at you. They're big, bulky and ugly. Have you seen Weird Science?"
:Night: "Yeah."
:Lit: "Remember when Lisa turned Chet into that thing at the end when he swallowed the bug?"
:Night: "Yeah."
:Lit: "The creature that sounded like this in DOOM looked like Chet. Hence, the name."
[About this point, we come into a large corridor with pillars in it, which looks painfully familiar... it reminds me of the level Dead Simple in DOOM 2, more moaning]
:Night: "Whoa, what is that?!"
[He's getting pummeled by a Chet, as I round a corner]
:Lit: "Yeah. Chet." [rocket, rocket, rocket, rocket, rocket, lousy thing dies]
:Night: "What was that thing?"
[I can hear another one]
:Lit: "Definitely a Chet. I'll look up the name for you. I hate those things. They pretty much have to be beat down with a plasma rifle, rocket launcher or double barrelled shotgun." [I'm eating crow as I destroy the second one with my chaingun]
:Night: "Ugh."
:Lit: "Yeah, I never liked them, either."
As we left the courtyard full of Chets, he asked me what I thought the toughest demon in the game is. Without hesitation, I replied "Cyberdemon".
:Night: "What's a Cyberdemon?"
:Lit: "Pretty much the worst thing you can imagine. Big bastard. He fills up a room when he's in it. Got ugly horns, the face from hell... no pun intended... a rocket launcher on one arm and a robotic leg. He flings rockets like there's no tomorrow, basically killing you in a heartbeat. You'll know you're about to encounter one by the sound he makes pacing around." [I then proceeded to imitated the mechanical hum and thump of the monster's left leg, followed by the thump of his "natural" right leg.]
:Night: "Oh. Ok."
I was annoyed with myself, because I forgot Chet's proper name, so I looked it up... There's a monster roster on Planet DOOM. Chet is the Mancubus about halfway down.
When it's all said and done, I had a good time. I look forward to playing some more DOOM 3 coop soon. Now, if I can just find some shells for the shotgun...
SQL> Select * From tblAmmoCrate Where Type = 'Shotgun';
I cranked up cooperative DOOM 3 for the first time tonight on XBox Live. Now here's a different experience. Not only was it kinda cool to have some help in the game - "I'll keep my flashlight on, you blow the hell out of anything it lights up." - but it was odd playing with someone who thinks DOOM is properly referred to as "Classic Doom" and doesn't understand that DOOM 2 was a sequel released shortly after the original game, utilizing the same engine. heh. I felt old. Anyway, the guy who joined my game (call him "Night", gamertag edited to protect the innocent) was a pretty cool kid. No trash talking, no bashing me for wanting to play coop and he was pretty patient with my old ass.
Shortly after I picked up the rocket launcher (dumb luck, that), we started to hear something that sounded vaguely familiar. An odd sort of moaning, grunting roar. As we listened to it, the following conversation took place (I'll paraphrase):
:Night: "Dude, do you hear that?"
:Lit: "Yeah. And it sounds familiar."
:Night: "What do you mean?"
:Lit: "Sounds like a Chet."
:Night: "A Chet? What's that?"
[we're slowly and I do mean slowly picking our way through a series of narrow corridors at this point]
:Lit: "I'm not really sure how to describe him and I can't recall the proper name. Most of the names I use for the foul creatures in DOOM are the nicknames I used for them in game play back in the day. Like calling the Pinky Demon a Pink Meanie. Anyway, Chet was this big thing with a pair of cannons or something that spat high speed trios of unpleasantness at you. They're big, bulky and ugly. Have you seen Weird Science?"
:Night: "Yeah."
:Lit: "Remember when Lisa turned Chet into that thing at the end when he swallowed the bug?"
:Night: "Yeah."
:Lit: "The creature that sounded like this in DOOM looked like Chet. Hence, the name."
[About this point, we come into a large corridor with pillars in it, which looks painfully familiar... it reminds me of the level Dead Simple in DOOM 2, more moaning]
:Night: "Whoa, what is that?!"
[He's getting pummeled by a Chet, as I round a corner]
:Lit: "Yeah. Chet." [rocket, rocket, rocket, rocket, rocket, lousy thing dies]
:Night: "What was that thing?"
[I can hear another one]
:Lit: "Definitely a Chet. I'll look up the name for you. I hate those things. They pretty much have to be beat down with a plasma rifle, rocket launcher or double barrelled shotgun." [I'm eating crow as I destroy the second one with my chaingun]
:Night: "Ugh."
:Lit: "Yeah, I never liked them, either."
As we left the courtyard full of Chets, he asked me what I thought the toughest demon in the game is. Without hesitation, I replied "Cyberdemon".
:Night: "What's a Cyberdemon?"
:Lit: "Pretty much the worst thing you can imagine. Big bastard. He fills up a room when he's in it. Got ugly horns, the face from hell... no pun intended... a rocket launcher on one arm and a robotic leg. He flings rockets like there's no tomorrow, basically killing you in a heartbeat. You'll know you're about to encounter one by the sound he makes pacing around." [I then proceeded to imitated the mechanical hum and thump of the monster's left leg, followed by the thump of his "natural" right leg.]
:Night: "Oh. Ok."
I was annoyed with myself, because I forgot Chet's proper name, so I looked it up... There's a monster roster on Planet DOOM. Chet is the Mancubus about halfway down.
When it's all said and done, I had a good time. I look forward to playing some more DOOM 3 coop soon. Now, if I can just find some shells for the shotgun...
SQL> Select * From tblAmmoCrate Where Type = 'Shotgun';
News about stuff
In personal news...
I have to go to Maryland next week, for business. My boss would like my team and I to be more proficient on a system we've not yet been able to practice with. That's cool, I guess. I'm just not a big fan of driving in the great frozen north (yeah, I said it ya'll, anything north of Austin is the great frozen north, IMO). It'll be cool to meet my coworkers and get some good pointers from the gang (coding in a silo is somewhat impractical). My flight departing SA is at O-Dark-Thirty, of course. I seem incapable of finding a flight at any time which doesn't necessitate massive amounts of caffeine. Oh well. I sleep well on airliners.
Next up, :rose: asked me to be his notreallyabestmanbutnotjustamoronholdingonto ringsathisnot soveryformalweddingceremonyattheranchinmarch I'll have to find a way to shorten that. It was fun to type, once.
Anyway. He said something to the effect of "I'm probably going to wear jeans and a Guayabera," which means it "is" formal dress, for those of us of the pseudo-Spanish persuasion. He also said I could wear whatever I want... so... I'm gonna order this TShirt from a custom shop:
Front: "Always a groomsman, never a groom..."
Back: "THANK GOD!"
That would be too cruel, even for me. I think I'll just get a nice Guayabera, too. But I'll wear the TShirt to the rehearsal dinner!
Anyway... There's some other stuff I want to get on the blog today... but I've got my hands full. Maybe later.
SQL> Select * From Weddings Where LiteraryAlchemist <> Groom;
I have to go to Maryland next week, for business. My boss would like my team and I to be more proficient on a system we've not yet been able to practice with. That's cool, I guess. I'm just not a big fan of driving in the great frozen north (yeah, I said it ya'll, anything north of Austin is the great frozen north, IMO). It'll be cool to meet my coworkers and get some good pointers from the gang (coding in a silo is somewhat impractical). My flight departing SA is at O-Dark-Thirty, of course. I seem incapable of finding a flight at any time which doesn't necessitate massive amounts of caffeine. Oh well. I sleep well on airliners.
Next up, :rose: asked me to be his notreallyabestmanbutnotjustamoronholdingonto ringsathisnot soveryformalweddingceremonyattheranchinmarch I'll have to find a way to shorten that. It was fun to type, once.
Anyway. He said something to the effect of "I'm probably going to wear jeans and a Guayabera," which means it "is" formal dress, for those of us of the pseudo-Spanish persuasion. He also said I could wear whatever I want... so... I'm gonna order this TShirt from a custom shop:
Front: "Always a groomsman, never a groom..."
Back: "THANK GOD!"
That would be too cruel, even for me. I think I'll just get a nice Guayabera, too. But I'll wear the TShirt to the rehearsal dinner!
Anyway... There's some other stuff I want to get on the blog today... but I've got my hands full. Maybe later.
SQL> Select * From Weddings Where LiteraryAlchemist <> Groom;
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