There's this little noise that I hear sometimes...
It comes randomly, but only seems to really be at night...
It sounds like a spoon rapidly tapping on a piece of paper, like twice a second...
It's piercing; you can hear it through your music...
And the worst part - the part that makes me look crazy - it's in the wall!
It's not in the air vents, it's coming from the very concrete wall itself.
And when I try to focus on it, it moves to a different part of the wall.
I have no idea what it is, save one thing: maddening!
Showing posts with label Things I Hate. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Things I Hate. Show all posts
Monday, May 12, 2008
Wednesday, December 26, 2007
The V8 Chronicles: Epilogue
You know, there's a reason I usually don't give previews to future posts. I like to write things down at my own pace. I need to be free, man, like the wind.
So anyway, don't expect me to give a little teaser at the end of any posts in the near future. It's tricky enough to know when I'll have a chance to sit down and write something, much less something planned.
In any event, the V8 blob! What ever happened to it? Did I end up filing a lawsuit? Did I actually eat it (y'know, for kicks)? Well, whatever I did, I didn't have much time for it. As you may know, I was keeping the blob in my freezer, to deal with at a later time. The problem therein, though, is that I had to go home for winter break. I sure as hell wasn't going to bring that blob home with me. Why, then, didn't I leave it in Berkeley? Well, unfortunately for me, the power to the room is shut off during the winter, meaning that our little friend would no longer be frozen. He would be thawed, growing...and angry.
So, once December began, I knew I needed to get my move on. So, I scheduled an appointment with the campus attorney, just for a little consultation.
Now, the attorney was in no way a personal injury lawyer, but he was still immensely helpful. He gave me pamphlets, old cases, and phone numbers to some local P.I.L.s in Berkeley.
I won't go into the nitty-gritty, but here's the takeaway point: I'm not going to be taking any sort of legal action. Here's why:
1. There are three basic divisions of civil court. There's small claims court, which covers amounts up to $2,500. There's...um...medium claims court(?) which goes up to, I believe, $25,000. Then there's the big league, which covers everything above that point.
2. According to the campus attorney, based on what I had said, this would most likely be a case for small claims court. He said it may be able to make it to the middle tier (he really thought my pictures were disgusting). However, one of the advantages of small claims court is that no lawyers are involved; just the plaintiff and defendant. If I tried middle claims court, Campbell's would send in their lawyers, and, well, that would be the end of me.
3. So the most I can realistically get out of this is $2,500. A far cry of my pipe dreams of them shoveling $100,000 under the table to my coffers, but a tidy sum nonetheless.
4. However, many of the things you can sue for in small claims court, to a claim like this, I couldn't, because it usually involves specific dollar amounts. Examples:
4a. Lost income from not showing up to work due to sickness. Being a student (and an RA, whose only income is room and board), I didn't lose any money. Hell, I didn't even miss an hour of school (well, I did, but for unrelated reasons).
4b. Medical costs. I went into the doctor's office a couple weeks after the incident, but it was for a dry skin-related issue. And even though they gave me a full checkup (as they are wont to do), it didn't cost me a dime (thanks to the student health insurance plan).
4c. Pain and suffering. According to my little pamphlet, pain and suffering costs are usually "5 times your medical bill." Well, as any 4th Grader can tell you, $0 x 5 = $0. Now, I could still put a number figure up for this, but it wouldn't be anymore than, say $500 (and even that is pretty generous).
So, I can sue Campbell's for a maximum of $500. However, my case would be pretty weak, as I didn't see a doctor the next day, etc. Truth be told, it would be an uphill battle. Yes, the pictures were gross, and the actual object would be even more gross, but I'd have to do a lot of preparation and research, I wouldn't be able to get anything done until January, and there would still be the blob proper to worry about until that time.
In the end, I figured some things aren't worth it. Suing Campbell's would just be too much effort for too little gain, and that's if I gained anything at all (which was a real issue). So, I just decided to drop the issue, mail in the blob to Campbell's (along with a stern note), and forget the whole thing.
...You wanna know a secret? When I first found the blob and dumped out all my V8, the first thing I did was throw it away. I was willing to write a tongue-in-cheek post about it and be done with it (my better judgement soon took over and I put it in the freezer).
One of my coworkers said to me, "You know, you're the perfect person for this to happen to for Campbell's, because you're the only person I know whose first instinct wouldn't be to sue." This is true. I was raised in a very non-litigious (and therefor un-American) household. Hence, I don't feel suing is the right course of action. Add to that my college persona of "not-being-phased-by-anything-or-at-least-not-showing-it" and you got yourself a cool consumer. The only reason I looked at legal action at all was because everyone told me to, and if I missed out on some huge cash settlement...well, I don't want to look like a sucker, do I?
So, here's to you, V8 blob! We had a good run, but now the saga has ended. I'm not sure how many people I've turned off to the stuff, but I'll tell you one thing: I'm only using those $9 worth of coupons on Goldfish!
So anyway, don't expect me to give a little teaser at the end of any posts in the near future. It's tricky enough to know when I'll have a chance to sit down and write something, much less something planned.
In any event, the V8 blob! What ever happened to it? Did I end up filing a lawsuit? Did I actually eat it (y'know, for kicks)? Well, whatever I did, I didn't have much time for it. As you may know, I was keeping the blob in my freezer, to deal with at a later time. The problem therein, though, is that I had to go home for winter break. I sure as hell wasn't going to bring that blob home with me. Why, then, didn't I leave it in Berkeley? Well, unfortunately for me, the power to the room is shut off during the winter, meaning that our little friend would no longer be frozen. He would be thawed, growing...and angry.
So, once December began, I knew I needed to get my move on. So, I scheduled an appointment with the campus attorney, just for a little consultation.
Now, the attorney was in no way a personal injury lawyer, but he was still immensely helpful. He gave me pamphlets, old cases, and phone numbers to some local P.I.L.s in Berkeley.
I won't go into the nitty-gritty, but here's the takeaway point: I'm not going to be taking any sort of legal action. Here's why:
1. There are three basic divisions of civil court. There's small claims court, which covers amounts up to $2,500. There's...um...medium claims court(?) which goes up to, I believe, $25,000. Then there's the big league, which covers everything above that point.
2. According to the campus attorney, based on what I had said, this would most likely be a case for small claims court. He said it may be able to make it to the middle tier (he really thought my pictures were disgusting). However, one of the advantages of small claims court is that no lawyers are involved; just the plaintiff and defendant. If I tried middle claims court, Campbell's would send in their lawyers, and, well, that would be the end of me.
3. So the most I can realistically get out of this is $2,500. A far cry of my pipe dreams of them shoveling $100,000 under the table to my coffers, but a tidy sum nonetheless.
4. However, many of the things you can sue for in small claims court, to a claim like this, I couldn't, because it usually involves specific dollar amounts. Examples:
4a. Lost income from not showing up to work due to sickness. Being a student (and an RA, whose only income is room and board), I didn't lose any money. Hell, I didn't even miss an hour of school (well, I did, but for unrelated reasons).
4b. Medical costs. I went into the doctor's office a couple weeks after the incident, but it was for a dry skin-related issue. And even though they gave me a full checkup (as they are wont to do), it didn't cost me a dime (thanks to the student health insurance plan).
4c. Pain and suffering. According to my little pamphlet, pain and suffering costs are usually "5 times your medical bill." Well, as any 4th Grader can tell you, $0 x 5 = $0. Now, I could still put a number figure up for this, but it wouldn't be anymore than, say $500 (and even that is pretty generous).
So, I can sue Campbell's for a maximum of $500. However, my case would be pretty weak, as I didn't see a doctor the next day, etc. Truth be told, it would be an uphill battle. Yes, the pictures were gross, and the actual object would be even more gross, but I'd have to do a lot of preparation and research, I wouldn't be able to get anything done until January, and there would still be the blob proper to worry about until that time.
In the end, I figured some things aren't worth it. Suing Campbell's would just be too much effort for too little gain, and that's if I gained anything at all (which was a real issue). So, I just decided to drop the issue, mail in the blob to Campbell's (along with a stern note), and forget the whole thing.
...You wanna know a secret? When I first found the blob and dumped out all my V8, the first thing I did was throw it away. I was willing to write a tongue-in-cheek post about it and be done with it (my better judgement soon took over and I put it in the freezer).
One of my coworkers said to me, "You know, you're the perfect person for this to happen to for Campbell's, because you're the only person I know whose first instinct wouldn't be to sue." This is true. I was raised in a very non-litigious (and therefor un-American) household. Hence, I don't feel suing is the right course of action. Add to that my college persona of "not-being-phased-by-anything-or-at-least-not-showing-it" and you got yourself a cool consumer. The only reason I looked at legal action at all was because everyone told me to, and if I missed out on some huge cash settlement...well, I don't want to look like a sucker, do I?
So, here's to you, V8 blob! We had a good run, but now the saga has ended. I'm not sure how many people I've turned off to the stuff, but I'll tell you one thing: I'm only using those $9 worth of coupons on Goldfish!
Saturday, November 24, 2007
About the V8 Incident
I've had a lot of talks with a lot of people about a certain incident involving a certain bottle of V8. One of the main things I've heard is that I need to spread the word, to make sure people are aware. After all, informed consumers are productive consumers. I could do that via a local news organization, but I figured that a better method would be some online method (such as Digg [and yes, that is permission to Digg this article]). However, my previous post on the subject was a bit too...tongue in cheek, I suppose, and many people didn't even realize that it was real. So, I figured I should post a more serious explanation and follow-up, because yes, it was very real.
About a month ago (on Saturday, October 27th, to be exact), I had purchased a bottle of V8 vegetable juice from a local store. The bottle was perfectly normal, and had a long way to go before it was expired. That night, I was eating dinner in my room when I decided to have a high-sodium vegetable supplement to go with my meal. So, I opened up a bottle of V8 and took a sip.
I was immediately repulsed. It was one of the nastiest things I had ever tasted. I had to drink quite a bit of water to wash it down. However, I didn't know what the problem was. After all, it could have just been a bad combination of flavors of the V8 and my food (you know, like how orange juice tastes weird after you brush your teeth). Eventually, though, I came to my senses (and my stomach was feeling a little sick), and so I poured the bottle of juice into my bathroom sink. As I was pouring, I heard a small "thud!" come from the bottle. I had no idea what it could have been, so I looked at the bottle, and this is what I saw:
(WARNING: All pictures shown are not for the squeamish.)
In the Bottle 1
In the Bottle 2
Needless to say, I was horrified. Not only was I finding something solid in my juice, but it was so large that it couldn't even come out of the bottle without some effort. Eventually, I did get it out, and scrutinized it further. Honestly, the first image that popped into my head was "alien egg sac" or something. It was that disgusting. Here are some close-ups for the adventurous.
Close-Up 1
Close-Up 2
Close-Up 3
Close-Up 4
The very fact that this thing was even remotely close to my lips disgusted me. At this point, my stomach feeling a little sick turned into full-on nausea. Needless to say, I haven't had a V8 since.
I had kept both the bottle and the blob-thing in my freezer in order to keep them safe and preserved. Then, a couple days later, I contacted both Campbell's and the FDA to let them know about the situation. What I found pretty interesting about the FDA's response is that my letter was forwarded to the product complaint department, and the FDA liaison's little forward note was, "The pictures are a bit disgusting." That tells you something: when the FDA thinks your pictures are gross, that's a bad sign.
Campbell's response was very much by-the-books. "Mr. Schnorr, we're sorry for this situation, can we get more information, etc." They then sent me a little package which came with $8 worth of replacement coupons. Seriously? Replacement coupons? Do they think I want to buy more V8? Hopefully I can use on some other, non-tomato juice products.
They also sent me a little bag and envelope to ship the little blob into them, to do "tests". However, I have yet to do that yet, partially because I'm cautious about sending the whole thing to them. Who knows, I could call in a month, asking about it, and they could easily say, "Wha? I don't know what you're talking about. But now you've got no evidence, sucka!" I think I need to consult with the FDA before sending anything over.
I've gotten a wide range of ideas from people as to what the offending object could be, from some sort of animal brain (which I sincerely doubt) to a very large fungus that could have seriously poisoned me (that's the most agreed-upon theory).
In the end, I'm just happy that my experience wasn't any worse than it was. And on the bright side, almost nothing related to mold phases me anymore. But we'll see how this plays out.
About a month ago (on Saturday, October 27th, to be exact), I had purchased a bottle of V8 vegetable juice from a local store. The bottle was perfectly normal, and had a long way to go before it was expired. That night, I was eating dinner in my room when I decided to have a high-sodium vegetable supplement to go with my meal. So, I opened up a bottle of V8 and took a sip.
I was immediately repulsed. It was one of the nastiest things I had ever tasted. I had to drink quite a bit of water to wash it down. However, I didn't know what the problem was. After all, it could have just been a bad combination of flavors of the V8 and my food (you know, like how orange juice tastes weird after you brush your teeth). Eventually, though, I came to my senses (and my stomach was feeling a little sick), and so I poured the bottle of juice into my bathroom sink. As I was pouring, I heard a small "thud!" come from the bottle. I had no idea what it could have been, so I looked at the bottle, and this is what I saw:
(WARNING: All pictures shown are not for the squeamish.)
In the Bottle 1
In the Bottle 2
Needless to say, I was horrified. Not only was I finding something solid in my juice, but it was so large that it couldn't even come out of the bottle without some effort. Eventually, I did get it out, and scrutinized it further. Honestly, the first image that popped into my head was "alien egg sac" or something. It was that disgusting. Here are some close-ups for the adventurous.
Close-Up 1
Close-Up 2
Close-Up 3
Close-Up 4
The very fact that this thing was even remotely close to my lips disgusted me. At this point, my stomach feeling a little sick turned into full-on nausea. Needless to say, I haven't had a V8 since.
I had kept both the bottle and the blob-thing in my freezer in order to keep them safe and preserved. Then, a couple days later, I contacted both Campbell's and the FDA to let them know about the situation. What I found pretty interesting about the FDA's response is that my letter was forwarded to the product complaint department, and the FDA liaison's little forward note was, "The pictures are a bit disgusting." That tells you something: when the FDA thinks your pictures are gross, that's a bad sign.
Campbell's response was very much by-the-books. "Mr. Schnorr, we're sorry for this situation, can we get more information, etc." They then sent me a little package which came with $8 worth of replacement coupons. Seriously? Replacement coupons? Do they think I want to buy more V8? Hopefully I can use on some other, non-tomato juice products.
They also sent me a little bag and envelope to ship the little blob into them, to do "tests". However, I have yet to do that yet, partially because I'm cautious about sending the whole thing to them. Who knows, I could call in a month, asking about it, and they could easily say, "Wha? I don't know what you're talking about. But now you've got no evidence, sucka!" I think I need to consult with the FDA before sending anything over.
I've gotten a wide range of ideas from people as to what the offending object could be, from some sort of animal brain (which I sincerely doubt) to a very large fungus that could have seriously poisoned me (that's the most agreed-upon theory).
In the end, I'm just happy that my experience wasn't any worse than it was. And on the bright side, almost nothing related to mold phases me anymore. But we'll see how this plays out.
Sunday, October 28, 2007
Warning: Do Not Click on Links if You Are Squeamish About Drinks
**At the Golden Bear Cafe.**
"Ah, what's this? V8 Vegetable Juice? hmm...I haven't had this in years, and I remember I hated it. But I was much less tolerant of vegetables back then. Whatever, I'll give it a shot."
"...Mm, this actually isn't that bad. It's basically tomato juice, or cold tomato soup."
"...Hmm...it says that it's three full serving of vegetables. Even though I'm pretty good about eating my vegetables, it probably couldn't hurt to boost up the level a bit."
"Whatever, I'll buy 5 for the next several days."
"Huh, they're over $2 a bottle. This might get a tad expensive."
**At home.**
"You know, I think I'll have a V8 with my dinner tonight, to up my vegetable level."
"Huh, I never noticed how much sodium this stuff has. 30% of my daily intake. Maybe this stuff really ain't that great. I suppose I'll just finish these 5 bottles and be done with it."
*(Tiny) Sip.*
"Ugh. Jeez, that tastes really bad. Like, really bad. Is this a bad batch? Or did I just have the taste of something else on my mouth? Should I take another sip and see how it goes?"
"...Um....hmmm...."
"...No, I think this may be a bad batch. I think I'll pour it out."
**Bathroom sink.**
"There we are, pouring out the drink, and...what was that thud?"
"!!!!!!!!!"
"....OH MY FREAKING GOD!!!"
"WHAT THE HELL IS THAT?!?!"
"Water! Water! Water, to wash the remnants from my mouth!"
"Listerine! Listerine, to burn the taste from my mouth!"
"Oh, God!"
"Oh, GOD!"
"Dear Lord!"
"Oh, sweet and merciful God!"
"Wha? What happened?"
**Back in my room.**
"Well, it looks like I'm not the only one..."
"Hmm...four more bottles left."
"..."
*Pours out all four bottles.*
"Ah, what's this? V8 Vegetable Juice? hmm...I haven't had this in years, and I remember I hated it. But I was much less tolerant of vegetables back then. Whatever, I'll give it a shot."
"...Mm, this actually isn't that bad. It's basically tomato juice, or cold tomato soup."
"...Hmm...it says that it's three full serving of vegetables. Even though I'm pretty good about eating my vegetables, it probably couldn't hurt to boost up the level a bit."
"Whatever, I'll buy 5 for the next several days."
"Huh, they're over $2 a bottle. This might get a tad expensive."
**At home.**
"You know, I think I'll have a V8 with my dinner tonight, to up my vegetable level."
"Huh, I never noticed how much sodium this stuff has. 30% of my daily intake. Maybe this stuff really ain't that great. I suppose I'll just finish these 5 bottles and be done with it."
*(Tiny) Sip.*
"Ugh. Jeez, that tastes really bad. Like, really bad. Is this a bad batch? Or did I just have the taste of something else on my mouth? Should I take another sip and see how it goes?"
"...Um....hmmm...."
"...No, I think this may be a bad batch. I think I'll pour it out."
**Bathroom sink.**
"There we are, pouring out the drink, and...what was that thud?"
"!!!!!!!!!"
"....OH MY FREAKING GOD!!!"
"WHAT THE HELL IS THAT?!?!"
"Water! Water! Water, to wash the remnants from my mouth!"
"Listerine! Listerine, to burn the taste from my mouth!"
"Oh, God!"
"Oh, GOD!"
"Dear Lord!"
"Oh, sweet and merciful God!"
"Wha? What happened?"
**Back in my room.**
"Well, it looks like I'm not the only one..."
"Hmm...four more bottles left."
"..."
*Pours out all four bottles.*
Thursday, April 12, 2007
On Beards
Let us, you and I, speak about beards, shall we?
Beards.
Everyone has a running joke; that is, one which they like to come to again and again as the years pass. It doesn't have to be a specific joke, per se, but rather a general idea in which they find humor.
My strongest and most stable running joke, by far, is that of beards.
I'm not sure why. Beards and I are intrinsically related, insofar as we have a antagonistifriendly relationship. Now I know what you're thinking: "Antagonistifriendly? What the hell is he talking about?" Well, let me educate you with the following facets of my relationships to beards.
1. "My own 'beard'": Let me make this perfectly clear (for some reason, I made an ironic typo in which I said "let me make this perfectly beard"): I don't have a beard. I always get annoyed when people say, "Oh, I like your beard," or "Oh, I don't like your beard," or "Oh, how long are you going to grow your beard?" When they say this, my left eye squints, my right eye twitches, and I turn to them with what can only be described as a scowl. "Beard?" say I, "I have no beard! And don't you ever call it that again!"
You see, I have a goatee, not a beard. Think of it as a logic problem from the SATs:
All beards are facial hair. Andrew has facial hair. Andrew has a beard.
Not true, my friend. A good rule of thumb is as follows: if the facial hair on the chin connects to the sideburns, it's a beard. Otherwise, it's some other varient of facial hair. Please refer to this style guide from the early 1900s for more information. As you can see, my variety of facial hair falls best under the category of "Petit Goatee".
So please, do not call my goatee a beard. Thank you.
2. "A Mighty Beard": So that's the extent of the antagonistic part of my antagonistifriendly relationship with the beard. However, there are many things about beards (beards on others, mind you) that I find quite amusing. For example, out of the blue one day, I thought of the phrase "a mighty beard." I'm not sure where it came from, but it's stuck with me ever since, and it always tickles me pink when I think of it. I'm giggling right now, in fact. I can just imagine a couple of grizzled sea captain-like characters talking to each other.
Sea Captain 1: "Arr, Ishmael, look at that bearded lad over there."
Sea Captain 2: "Aye, 'tis a mighty beard."
This is especially funny when I actually do see someone with a mighty beard on campus. Usually these people just turn out to be eccentric, homeless, or some combination of the two, but I still say to myself, "'Tis a mighty beard," and smile.
3. "The Beard Bribe": One of my co-workers at CKC was also my RA last year, and he's one of my closest friends at Cal. His name is Carlos, and he's well known for being a snappy dresser and overall handsome fellow. Here's a picture of him for reference (he's the one in the picture that's neither female nor me). Now, Carlos has a very youthful appearance, but he sometimes goes for many days without shaving. Hence, he occasionally has a bit of a stubble, which begs the question, "What would Carlos be like with a beard?"
Now, Carlos also wants a Nintendo Wii. However, he doesn't really want to shell out the money for one. He was going to get one for his birthday, but his family couldn't find one anywhere (a side effect of its popularity).
This is where I come in. Being the devil incarnate, I made Carlos an offer while simultaneously feeling my teeth sharpen. "Carlosssss," I hissed, "If you were to grow out your beard and keep it until your graduation, I'd happily purchasssse a Nintendo Wii for you." (Keep in mind, I made this offer to him at the beginning of the semester, so he'd have to keep it for months.)
"No," he cried, "That will make me look so old."
"Think about it, my friend. You want to be a teacher. Without the beard, you'll ssssimply be 'Carlossss'. With the beard, however, you'll be 'Misssster Lua'. And you'll have a Wii to boot."
Unfortunately, he didn't bite. I was actually willing to go through with the deal, but his heart wasn't in it, I suppose. Still, I found it funny when I was "comic-izing" a bunch of pictures (something I'll cover in more depth later), and the tricks of light and shadow in a picture of him gave him a kind of goatee. 'Ave a look. Don't worry, he'll cave...someday.
4. "The Bearded Party" : I tend to have a preoccupation with creating unorthodox political parties. I was thinking about creating my own ASUC party called the "Eclipse Party" in which our platform is "Fear, Darkness, and the Wailing of Children" (unlike Student Action, we wouldn't hide our true political intentions.) But as far as the US government, I've always thought the best idea would be the Bearded Party. The Bearded Party is, basically, a political party for people who have facial hair, or wish to have it (to include the ladies). It would be sponsored by the political action committee called the "United Citizens Advancing Bearded People Into Politics, As Well As Mustached People, Though Not As Much As Bearded," or UCABPIPAWAMPTNAMAB (pronounced "Oo-cab-pip-ah-wahmpt-nam-ab").
Here's an sample of one of the Bearded Party's speeches: "Did you know that the last President to have a beard was in 1893, with the last mustached President being in 1913. In fact, the last major candidate to have facial hair was Thomas Dewey in 1948! This is discrimination! This is an outrage! Why, some of our greatest Presidents have had beards! Abraham Lincoln, for one.......yeah!"
The goals of the Bearded Party are simple to the point of frightening: create pro-beard policies and revise history. Yes, revise history. For example, every beardless president will be given a full (if not mighty) beard in all their pictures, and every single battle of the Civil War will be renamed "The Battle of Bearded Hill." The list goes on and on.
However, if we were to ever let a member of the Bearded Party ever make it into the Oval Office, it would all be downhill from there. Which brings us to the grim final piece.
5. "Obey the Beard": I have the vision that if we have a dystopian future, we will not be ruled by aliens or by robots. No, in the future, we will all be ruled by a beard. Not by a man with a beard, mind you, but an individual, sentient beard. In this grim future, all with beards are elevated to a seat of power, while the beardless are punished. I'm in the process of making a series of pics/sounds (similar to that Photoshop contest one) that show this future.
Here's the first: "The Four Rules of Beard" - This is basically pro-beard propaganda, telling you to live, love, honor, and obey the Beard, all while listening to some people talk about the virtues of the beard (the voices, incidentally, are from a fairly bearded episode of Star Trek: The Next Generation).
Here's the second: "The Future Home of the Beardless" - This shows a prison cell where a beardless person goes, with some lovely propaganda posters on the wall ("Do not defy your bearded superiors"). The shakiness of the person is a visualization of their going insane. (Oh, the pictures are from "V for Vendetta" and the sound from "Eternal Darkness," in case you were wondering.)
While, as a middle-class white male, I usually don't find the prospect of dystopian futures disturbing, this one definitely doesn't seem pleasant, even with my ample chin tuft.
Okay, I'll stop there. I think you have a pretty good idea of my relationship with beards, and the kinds of things my running joke entails. It's a pretty fun topic, and I've never fully understood why. But, in case you're wondering, I don't plan on ever, EVER growing a full beard. So don't ask.
Have a bearded day!
Beards.
Everyone has a running joke; that is, one which they like to come to again and again as the years pass. It doesn't have to be a specific joke, per se, but rather a general idea in which they find humor.
My strongest and most stable running joke, by far, is that of beards.
I'm not sure why. Beards and I are intrinsically related, insofar as we have a antagonistifriendly relationship. Now I know what you're thinking: "Antagonistifriendly? What the hell is he talking about?" Well, let me educate you with the following facets of my relationships to beards.
1. "My own 'beard'": Let me make this perfectly clear (for some reason, I made an ironic typo in which I said "let me make this perfectly beard"): I don't have a beard. I always get annoyed when people say, "Oh, I like your beard," or "Oh, I don't like your beard," or "Oh, how long are you going to grow your beard?" When they say this, my left eye squints, my right eye twitches, and I turn to them with what can only be described as a scowl. "Beard?" say I, "I have no beard! And don't you ever call it that again!"
You see, I have a goatee, not a beard. Think of it as a logic problem from the SATs:
All beards are facial hair. Andrew has facial hair. Andrew has a beard.
Not true, my friend. A good rule of thumb is as follows: if the facial hair on the chin connects to the sideburns, it's a beard. Otherwise, it's some other varient of facial hair. Please refer to this style guide from the early 1900s for more information. As you can see, my variety of facial hair falls best under the category of "Petit Goatee".
So please, do not call my goatee a beard. Thank you.
2. "A Mighty Beard": So that's the extent of the antagonistic part of my antagonistifriendly relationship with the beard. However, there are many things about beards (beards on others, mind you) that I find quite amusing. For example, out of the blue one day, I thought of the phrase "a mighty beard." I'm not sure where it came from, but it's stuck with me ever since, and it always tickles me pink when I think of it. I'm giggling right now, in fact. I can just imagine a couple of grizzled sea captain-like characters talking to each other.
Sea Captain 1: "Arr, Ishmael, look at that bearded lad over there."
Sea Captain 2: "Aye, 'tis a mighty beard."
This is especially funny when I actually do see someone with a mighty beard on campus. Usually these people just turn out to be eccentric, homeless, or some combination of the two, but I still say to myself, "'Tis a mighty beard," and smile.
3. "The Beard Bribe": One of my co-workers at CKC was also my RA last year, and he's one of my closest friends at Cal. His name is Carlos, and he's well known for being a snappy dresser and overall handsome fellow. Here's a picture of him for reference (he's the one in the picture that's neither female nor me). Now, Carlos has a very youthful appearance, but he sometimes goes for many days without shaving. Hence, he occasionally has a bit of a stubble, which begs the question, "What would Carlos be like with a beard?"
Now, Carlos also wants a Nintendo Wii. However, he doesn't really want to shell out the money for one. He was going to get one for his birthday, but his family couldn't find one anywhere (a side effect of its popularity).
This is where I come in. Being the devil incarnate, I made Carlos an offer while simultaneously feeling my teeth sharpen. "Carlosssss," I hissed, "If you were to grow out your beard and keep it until your graduation, I'd happily purchasssse a Nintendo Wii for you." (Keep in mind, I made this offer to him at the beginning of the semester, so he'd have to keep it for months.)
"No," he cried, "That will make me look so old."
"Think about it, my friend. You want to be a teacher. Without the beard, you'll ssssimply be 'Carlossss'. With the beard, however, you'll be 'Misssster Lua'. And you'll have a Wii to boot."
Unfortunately, he didn't bite. I was actually willing to go through with the deal, but his heart wasn't in it, I suppose. Still, I found it funny when I was "comic-izing" a bunch of pictures (something I'll cover in more depth later), and the tricks of light and shadow in a picture of him gave him a kind of goatee. 'Ave a look. Don't worry, he'll cave...someday.
4. "The Bearded Party" : I tend to have a preoccupation with creating unorthodox political parties. I was thinking about creating my own ASUC party called the "Eclipse Party" in which our platform is "Fear, Darkness, and the Wailing of Children" (unlike Student Action, we wouldn't hide our true political intentions.) But as far as the US government, I've always thought the best idea would be the Bearded Party. The Bearded Party is, basically, a political party for people who have facial hair, or wish to have it (to include the ladies). It would be sponsored by the political action committee called the "United Citizens Advancing Bearded People Into Politics, As Well As Mustached People, Though Not As Much As Bearded," or UCABPIPAWAMPTNAMAB (pronounced "Oo-cab-pip-ah-wahmpt-nam-ab").
Here's an sample of one of the Bearded Party's speeches: "Did you know that the last President to have a beard was in 1893, with the last mustached President being in 1913. In fact, the last major candidate to have facial hair was Thomas Dewey in 1948! This is discrimination! This is an outrage! Why, some of our greatest Presidents have had beards! Abraham Lincoln, for one.......yeah!"
The goals of the Bearded Party are simple to the point of frightening: create pro-beard policies and revise history. Yes, revise history. For example, every beardless president will be given a full (if not mighty) beard in all their pictures, and every single battle of the Civil War will be renamed "The Battle of Bearded Hill." The list goes on and on.
However, if we were to ever let a member of the Bearded Party ever make it into the Oval Office, it would all be downhill from there. Which brings us to the grim final piece.
5. "Obey the Beard": I have the vision that if we have a dystopian future, we will not be ruled by aliens or by robots. No, in the future, we will all be ruled by a beard. Not by a man with a beard, mind you, but an individual, sentient beard. In this grim future, all with beards are elevated to a seat of power, while the beardless are punished. I'm in the process of making a series of pics/sounds (similar to that Photoshop contest one) that show this future.
Here's the first: "The Four Rules of Beard" - This is basically pro-beard propaganda, telling you to live, love, honor, and obey the Beard, all while listening to some people talk about the virtues of the beard (the voices, incidentally, are from a fairly bearded episode of Star Trek: The Next Generation).
Here's the second: "The Future Home of the Beardless" - This shows a prison cell where a beardless person goes, with some lovely propaganda posters on the wall ("Do not defy your bearded superiors"). The shakiness of the person is a visualization of their going insane. (Oh, the pictures are from "V for Vendetta" and the sound from "Eternal Darkness," in case you were wondering.)
While, as a middle-class white male, I usually don't find the prospect of dystopian futures disturbing, this one definitely doesn't seem pleasant, even with my ample chin tuft.
Okay, I'll stop there. I think you have a pretty good idea of my relationship with beards, and the kinds of things my running joke entails. It's a pretty fun topic, and I've never fully understood why. But, in case you're wondering, I don't plan on ever, EVER growing a full beard. So don't ask.
Have a bearded day!
Monday, March 5, 2007
Politics: The fastest way to make enemies!
I despise talking about politics. I think this comes from my political preferences. On my Facebook profile, you'll see that my "Political Preference" is set under "Other." What does that mean? Well, I guess you could say I'm a bit unique for a Berkeley student, in that I'm a monarchist. And that's not a joke. I am seriously in favor of having a (constitutionally mandated) monarchy in which one person has complete control, with no red tape, no bureaucracy, no voting. It would bring back the phrase "For king and country!" And anyone running under a monarchist ticket would immediately get my vote.
Lamentably, though, there is no American Monarchist Party (well, there is, but it's a small thing headquartered in some backwater town in Texas which I'd like to steer clear from). As is, I'm registered as a Democrat (mainly so I can vote in primaries). However, I'm not exactly one who always votes along party lines. I guess you could call me a moderate, but not even that works perfectly, since a moderate usually has, well, moderate views about most issues. I, on the other, hand, have extremely strong views about certain issues on both sides of the political spectrum. For example:
-I am opposed to both the death penalty and abortion.
-I am not pro-business (I believe in having lot of regulations), but I am also vehemently anti-union (mainly for personal reasons).
-I am very much anti-war, but I am also anti-peace (in that I dislike hippies, anti-war protesters, and other peaceniks).
-Et cetera.
I guess the best term you could use to describe me would be Liberservative Constitutional Monarchist.
There are only a few situations in which I do enjoy talking politics. Mainly I do so in parody. Sometimes I'll use political figures for other purposes. And then there's other times in which I and two of my friends, Chris and Eddie, will play "the government," so as to mcok the bureaucratic system. Eddie is the president, I am the legislature, and Chris is the Supreme Court. Conversations will sometimes go like this.
Me: "I declare a law in which we go to Arby's tonight."
Eddie: "I veto that law."
Me: "The legislature needs a two-thirds vote to overturn the veto. All in favor of overturning? *Raises hand.* It's unanimous."
Chris: "I declare that law to be unconstitutional!"
Me: "All in favor of impeaching the Chief Justice? *Raises hand.* It's unanimous."
Eddie: "I don't allow this impeachment to proceed."
Me: "All in favor of impeaching the president. *Raises hand.* It's unanimous. That's a double impeachment."
Chris: "I declare these actions to be unconstitutional!"
And so on, and so forth...
But other than that, I'm not big on politics, and I especially dislike them being forced upon me.
...
........
...where was I going with this?
Oh, yes! Today, I had some politics (well, some political economics) forced upon me, but I was ready for it. In fact, I was somewhat expecting it. You see, I usually don't like to speak to the solicitors on Upper Sproul unless I have a pre-planned response to whatever they're going to ask. I usually have hypothetical conversations in my head days ahead of time, and I'm actually quite good at predicting what they'll say. And as it turned out, I had thought up one such conversation over the weekend, ever since I saw a flyer for Cal Lobby Day. I felt that if one of the Cal Lobby people came up to me, I would be ready.
And lo and behold, they did! Or, one did, at least. After a nice lunch at the GBC, I walk over to grab a copy of the Squelch, when this chick comes up to me, and the following conversation ensues:
Her: "The average price a Cal student pays is $22,000 a year. And now the governor is planning on raising tuition costs by $435 (or something like that). Doesn't that make you mad?"
Me: "Damn right! It's not nearly enough!"
Her: "Well, would you like to sign...wait, what?"
Me: "We need to increase the costs by at least twice that much if we want to get anywhere."
Her: "You're in favor of increasing tuition."
Me: "Sweetie (I'm not sure if I actually called her that), you're looking at this the wrong way. The University isn't ripping you off. Not with tuition, at least. Year after year, UC Berkeley is named by all those magazines as dollar-for-tuition-dollar the best university in the world. Even with the increase in tuition costs, it's still better than any other university out there."
Her: "But-"
Me: "Here's the thing. Most costs that a student has to pay doesn't have to do with tuition (except for out-of-staters, and they're a lost cause anyway). It has to do with housing. UC Berkeley has the fairly dubious honor of having the highest housing costs in the nation. In fact, Foothill has the single highest room cost, while Clark Kerr Campus has the highest average room cost. Non-student housing is not much better, seeing as this is the Bay Area. What's the problem with this? Well, tuition is tax deductible. Housing costs are not. And yet, for student housing, it's still going to the State of California, but you aren't getting anything back. That's where they're scamming you.
Her: "See-"
Me: "The solution? Transfer housing costs to tuition costs. Instead of paying $5,000 for tuition and $15,000 for housing, tell them to make it $15,000 for tuition and $5,000 for housing. You pay the same amount, but it's suddenly tax deductible."
Her: "But not everyone lives in student-housing."
Me: "Ah, but that's the beauty. Lowering the price of student housing will prompt more people to want to live in the dorms. This will decrease the demand for non-campus housing. Do you have a pen and paper?"
Her: "Umm...yeah."
Me: "Thank you. So, when the demand curve shifts to the left, the new equilibrium point is lower on the vertical supply curve. This means a lower price for all housing." (Dramatic recreation of sketch below.)
"So one way or the other, people save money with this plan. You should promote it or suck it up. The fact of the matter is, the state needs money, and hence people need to give money. I don't envy the governor; he's akin to a doctor who has a patient with poison in their blood, but are unwilling to bleed it out."
Her: "Your logic is astounding! Take me with you! Make love to me!"
That last line was never spoken. In fact, the Cal Lobby worker seemed quite perturbed (to put it lightly) with me. Through a furrowed brow, she mumbled, "Well, if you feel that way, you can lobby your position as well."
"I would," I replied, "except for the fact that I honestly don't care. I don't like politics, anyway. Toodles." And I walked away.
P.S. I just found out that ranch tastes really good on meatloaf!
Lamentably, though, there is no American Monarchist Party (well, there is, but it's a small thing headquartered in some backwater town in Texas which I'd like to steer clear from). As is, I'm registered as a Democrat (mainly so I can vote in primaries). However, I'm not exactly one who always votes along party lines. I guess you could call me a moderate, but not even that works perfectly, since a moderate usually has, well, moderate views about most issues. I, on the other, hand, have extremely strong views about certain issues on both sides of the political spectrum. For example:
-I am opposed to both the death penalty and abortion.
-I am not pro-business (I believe in having lot of regulations), but I am also vehemently anti-union (mainly for personal reasons).
-I am very much anti-war, but I am also anti-peace (in that I dislike hippies, anti-war protesters, and other peaceniks).
-Et cetera.
I guess the best term you could use to describe me would be Liberservative Constitutional Monarchist.
There are only a few situations in which I do enjoy talking politics. Mainly I do so in parody. Sometimes I'll use political figures for other purposes. And then there's other times in which I and two of my friends, Chris and Eddie, will play "the government," so as to mcok the bureaucratic system. Eddie is the president, I am the legislature, and Chris is the Supreme Court. Conversations will sometimes go like this.
Me: "I declare a law in which we go to Arby's tonight."
Eddie: "I veto that law."
Me: "The legislature needs a two-thirds vote to overturn the veto. All in favor of overturning? *Raises hand.* It's unanimous."
Chris: "I declare that law to be unconstitutional!"
Me: "All in favor of impeaching the Chief Justice? *Raises hand.* It's unanimous."
Eddie: "I don't allow this impeachment to proceed."
Me: "All in favor of impeaching the president. *Raises hand.* It's unanimous. That's a double impeachment."
Chris: "I declare these actions to be unconstitutional!"
And so on, and so forth...
But other than that, I'm not big on politics, and I especially dislike them being forced upon me.
...
........
...where was I going with this?
Oh, yes! Today, I had some politics (well, some political economics) forced upon me, but I was ready for it. In fact, I was somewhat expecting it. You see, I usually don't like to speak to the solicitors on Upper Sproul unless I have a pre-planned response to whatever they're going to ask. I usually have hypothetical conversations in my head days ahead of time, and I'm actually quite good at predicting what they'll say. And as it turned out, I had thought up one such conversation over the weekend, ever since I saw a flyer for Cal Lobby Day. I felt that if one of the Cal Lobby people came up to me, I would be ready.
And lo and behold, they did! Or, one did, at least. After a nice lunch at the GBC, I walk over to grab a copy of the Squelch, when this chick comes up to me, and the following conversation ensues:
Her: "The average price a Cal student pays is $22,000 a year. And now the governor is planning on raising tuition costs by $435 (or something like that). Doesn't that make you mad?"
Me: "Damn right! It's not nearly enough!"
Her: "Well, would you like to sign...wait, what?"
Me: "We need to increase the costs by at least twice that much if we want to get anywhere."
Her: "You're in favor of increasing tuition."
Me: "Sweetie (I'm not sure if I actually called her that), you're looking at this the wrong way. The University isn't ripping you off. Not with tuition, at least. Year after year, UC Berkeley is named by all those magazines as dollar-for-tuition-dollar the best university in the world. Even with the increase in tuition costs, it's still better than any other university out there."
Her: "But-"
Me: "Here's the thing. Most costs that a student has to pay doesn't have to do with tuition (except for out-of-staters, and they're a lost cause anyway). It has to do with housing. UC Berkeley has the fairly dubious honor of having the highest housing costs in the nation. In fact, Foothill has the single highest room cost, while Clark Kerr Campus has the highest average room cost. Non-student housing is not much better, seeing as this is the Bay Area. What's the problem with this? Well, tuition is tax deductible. Housing costs are not. And yet, for student housing, it's still going to the State of California, but you aren't getting anything back. That's where they're scamming you.
Her: "See-"
Me: "The solution? Transfer housing costs to tuition costs. Instead of paying $5,000 for tuition and $15,000 for housing, tell them to make it $15,000 for tuition and $5,000 for housing. You pay the same amount, but it's suddenly tax deductible."
Her: "But not everyone lives in student-housing."
Me: "Ah, but that's the beauty. Lowering the price of student housing will prompt more people to want to live in the dorms. This will decrease the demand for non-campus housing. Do you have a pen and paper?"
Her: "Umm...yeah."
Me: "Thank you. So, when the demand curve shifts to the left, the new equilibrium point is lower on the vertical supply curve. This means a lower price for all housing." (Dramatic recreation of sketch below.)
"So one way or the other, people save money with this plan. You should promote it or suck it up. The fact of the matter is, the state needs money, and hence people need to give money. I don't envy the governor; he's akin to a doctor who has a patient with poison in their blood, but are unwilling to bleed it out."
Her: "Your logic is astounding! Take me with you! Make love to me!"
That last line was never spoken. In fact, the Cal Lobby worker seemed quite perturbed (to put it lightly) with me. Through a furrowed brow, she mumbled, "Well, if you feel that way, you can lobby your position as well."
"I would," I replied, "except for the fact that I honestly don't care. I don't like politics, anyway. Toodles." And I walked away.
P.S. I just found out that ranch tastes really good on meatloaf!
Friday, February 16, 2007
Down the Rabbit Hole...
First of all, I'd like to apologize for my lack of updates yesterday. While I realize that for the class, we only need to have a four-per-week average, I like to hold myself up to higher standards. For you see, this blog is not just for the class...it is for all. Yesterday, however, I was just doing one thing after another, going from place to place, and all of a sudden..."Midnight? The day, she's over?"
I had nightmares of people checking The Lobotomist's Dream and withering away at the lack of new content. However, I'm sure the actual response was more akin to, "Thank God, ol' rubbergums finally shut up for once" (I'm assuming you all use the term rubbergums).
Actually, I had a pretty fun experience yesterday, amidst a lot of Resident Assistant work. A little while back (February 12th, to be exact), I was gallivanting across the Intertubes when I stumbled on this little page. I find interest in the oddest things, and I ended up listening to that sound clip over and over for what had to be 2 hours. No foolin'. I was writing the notes on my Valentine's day cards at the time, and when I got to my card (that is, the card I was giving myself [that is, the card that seals my fate as a loser]), I decided to write the line down. I laterregretted thanked myself not putting that down on everyone's card. Nothing says "I love you" like telling someone you killed their brother.
Anyhoo, this got my appetite whetted. I hadn't seen Who Framed Roger Rabbit? since I was young, and I doubt I fully appreciated it then. In fact, the last time I've even seen a clip of it was when my Dad and I were in Universal Studios, Florida, doing an exercise in voice-overs. That was the summer of aught-two, which seems like such a long time ago. So, I decided to put it on my Netflix queue.
A little aside about Netflix: I love Netflix. Since the beginning of Spetember, I have gotten 157 movies from Netflix. In case you're interested, there are 169 days betwixt September 1st and February 16th. That's an average of .92 movies a day, and that average is only increasing, seeing as I get a whopping 8 movies at a time. Not to say they're all movies, mind you. One reason my collection is so bulky is because I get a lot of TV series. So far, I've gotten the following:
Star Trek: The Next Generation
Batman: The Animated Series
Fullmetal Alchemist
Gargoyles
Arrested Development
Mystery Science Theater 3000
And more are on the way!
"Andrew, how do you have time to watch all these movies while keeping up with your schoolwork?"
Well, um...I'm very vigilant?
Now, where was I? Oh, yes, the movie! So, I just received Who Framed Roger Rabbit? from Netflix, and I decided to watch it as my dinner entertainment last night. I was expecting to have few laughs. After listening to the greatest sound in history, the movie started. I must say, I was expecting myself to enjoy it, but not to the extent that I did. Seriously, I thought it was great. I was always a fan of the old Tex Avery-style of cartoons, and it only took a little nudge to remind me why. It also goes to show that film noir, a genre in which I like to say "all the men are jerks and all the women are prostitutes," doesn't necessarily have to take itself seriously all the time.
What really surprised me was the rating. I would not say for a second that the film is a kid's film. I guess kids could enjoy it (although a few scenes could conceivably give them nightmares). But so much of the film's bulk would go over their heads. If anything, I would say it's a humor-loving adult's film. Violence, innuendo, jokes about living in the 1940s...and yet, the movie got a PG rating, which surprised me. Then I realized something: it was the 80s. Movie ratings made no sense in the 80s.
(Which brings me to a small aside: with all these political activists who say that movies are sending bad messages to kids, look at the 80s. Back then, a PG movie would show a man getting bit in half by a shark and someone else cussing up a storm. I'd say our current system is actually pretty strict when you compare it to a few decades ago.)
So, yeah, after the movie was finished, I watched the extras, and found it amazing that every single piece of animation was hand-painted. No computers. All paint. That floored me.
I'll make something completely clear: I am not a fan of CGI (Computer-Generated Imagery) cartoons. While I admit that I like many of the Pixar movies, I am not a fan of the format in general. First of all, it limits what animators are able to do. Yes, limits. Despite giving animators the nigh-unlimited resources of a computer, CGI constrains what can be achieved.
Example!
Let's look at cartoons during the second golden age of Disney. Look at the style of characters in The Little Mermaid, Beauty and the Beast, and Aladdin. Most of the humans look - surprise! - like humans! However, this doesn't tend to work well in CGI movies. Hence, the animators tend to either gravitate towards humans that look like cupie dolls (or ugly clay figurines), or towards movies that focus on animals. And because of that, we have Madagascar, Over the Hedge, The Wild, Open Season, and a boatload of other worthless drivel that all blend together after a while. Seriously, click on the links to see their posters. They're all the same! How stupid do they think kids are? (Or maybe the question should be, how stupid are kids these days?)
Second, is it just me, or does having 3-D characters count as an excuse for not having textures. If you look at a movie like The Incredibles, everything looks...smooth. Everyone's face, all the scenery, it's all so smooth. Compare it with the carefully-painted backgrounds of the classic-style animations. Why does the third dimension carry such a hefty price?
Finally, while CGI may have been painfully expensive and difficult back in the day, it is now relatively cheap and simple. That's why everyone's using it. Instead of painting frame after frame after frame, all the current animator has to do is make a skin for the character, and the rest can be used using a computer "skeleton."
As I've mentioned before, I'm not the biggest anime fan. However, I do have a certain respect for it, if only for the fact that it is the last great haven of traditional animation in modern culture, especially in theater. In the five Academy Awards since the Best Animated Feature category was added (13 years late, I might add), only one traditional medium picture has won. (Incidentally, the selection of movies for that category every year suck!) That movie was Hayao Miyazaki's Spirited Away (a very good movie, by the way). He was nominated once again last year, and even though I didn't see the movie, I was rooting for it, simply out of principle.
Now, when you look at Who Framed Roger Rabbit? (see, I haven't forgotten what my topic was), you can see that it looks more real, more lifelike than both CGI movies, and subsequent live-action/animated mixed, such as the green screen-aided Space Jam and its ilk. That is a triumph in animation, methinks. And it is yet another reason why I pine for the good ol' days.
Wow, this post was all over the place. A sort of penance for my absence yesterday. Anyhoo, in conclusion, if you've never seen Who Framed Roger Rabbit?, do so. And if you have, do so again.
I had nightmares of people checking The Lobotomist's Dream and withering away at the lack of new content. However, I'm sure the actual response was more akin to, "Thank God, ol' rubbergums finally shut up for once" (I'm assuming you all use the term rubbergums).
Actually, I had a pretty fun experience yesterday, amidst a lot of Resident Assistant work. A little while back (February 12th, to be exact), I was gallivanting across the Intertubes when I stumbled on this little page. I find interest in the oddest things, and I ended up listening to that sound clip over and over for what had to be 2 hours. No foolin'. I was writing the notes on my Valentine's day cards at the time, and when I got to my card (that is, the card I was giving myself [that is, the card that seals my fate as a loser]), I decided to write the line down. I later
Anyhoo, this got my appetite whetted. I hadn't seen Who Framed Roger Rabbit? since I was young, and I doubt I fully appreciated it then. In fact, the last time I've even seen a clip of it was when my Dad and I were in Universal Studios, Florida, doing an exercise in voice-overs. That was the summer of aught-two, which seems like such a long time ago. So, I decided to put it on my Netflix queue.
A little aside about Netflix: I love Netflix. Since the beginning of Spetember, I have gotten 157 movies from Netflix. In case you're interested, there are 169 days betwixt September 1st and February 16th. That's an average of .92 movies a day, and that average is only increasing, seeing as I get a whopping 8 movies at a time. Not to say they're all movies, mind you. One reason my collection is so bulky is because I get a lot of TV series. So far, I've gotten the following:
Star Trek: The Next Generation
Batman: The Animated Series
Fullmetal Alchemist
Gargoyles
Arrested Development
Mystery Science Theater 3000
And more are on the way!
"Andrew, how do you have time to watch all these movies while keeping up with your schoolwork?"
Well, um...I'm very vigilant?
Now, where was I? Oh, yes, the movie! So, I just received Who Framed Roger Rabbit? from Netflix, and I decided to watch it as my dinner entertainment last night. I was expecting to have few laughs. After listening to the greatest sound in history, the movie started. I must say, I was expecting myself to enjoy it, but not to the extent that I did. Seriously, I thought it was great. I was always a fan of the old Tex Avery-style of cartoons, and it only took a little nudge to remind me why. It also goes to show that film noir, a genre in which I like to say "all the men are jerks and all the women are prostitutes," doesn't necessarily have to take itself seriously all the time.
What really surprised me was the rating. I would not say for a second that the film is a kid's film. I guess kids could enjoy it (although a few scenes could conceivably give them nightmares). But so much of the film's bulk would go over their heads. If anything, I would say it's a humor-loving adult's film. Violence, innuendo, jokes about living in the 1940s...and yet, the movie got a PG rating, which surprised me. Then I realized something: it was the 80s. Movie ratings made no sense in the 80s.
(Which brings me to a small aside: with all these political activists who say that movies are sending bad messages to kids, look at the 80s. Back then, a PG movie would show a man getting bit in half by a shark and someone else cussing up a storm. I'd say our current system is actually pretty strict when you compare it to a few decades ago.)
So, yeah, after the movie was finished, I watched the extras, and found it amazing that every single piece of animation was hand-painted. No computers. All paint. That floored me.
I'll make something completely clear: I am not a fan of CGI (Computer-Generated Imagery) cartoons. While I admit that I like many of the Pixar movies, I am not a fan of the format in general. First of all, it limits what animators are able to do. Yes, limits. Despite giving animators the nigh-unlimited resources of a computer, CGI constrains what can be achieved.
Example!
Let's look at cartoons during the second golden age of Disney. Look at the style of characters in The Little Mermaid, Beauty and the Beast, and Aladdin. Most of the humans look - surprise! - like humans! However, this doesn't tend to work well in CGI movies. Hence, the animators tend to either gravitate towards humans that look like cupie dolls (or ugly clay figurines), or towards movies that focus on animals. And because of that, we have Madagascar, Over the Hedge, The Wild, Open Season, and a boatload of other worthless drivel that all blend together after a while. Seriously, click on the links to see their posters. They're all the same! How stupid do they think kids are? (Or maybe the question should be, how stupid are kids these days?)
Second, is it just me, or does having 3-D characters count as an excuse for not having textures. If you look at a movie like The Incredibles, everything looks...smooth. Everyone's face, all the scenery, it's all so smooth. Compare it with the carefully-painted backgrounds of the classic-style animations. Why does the third dimension carry such a hefty price?
Finally, while CGI may have been painfully expensive and difficult back in the day, it is now relatively cheap and simple. That's why everyone's using it. Instead of painting frame after frame after frame, all the current animator has to do is make a skin for the character, and the rest can be used using a computer "skeleton."
As I've mentioned before, I'm not the biggest anime fan. However, I do have a certain respect for it, if only for the fact that it is the last great haven of traditional animation in modern culture, especially in theater. In the five Academy Awards since the Best Animated Feature category was added (13 years late, I might add), only one traditional medium picture has won. (Incidentally, the selection of movies for that category every year suck!) That movie was Hayao Miyazaki's Spirited Away (a very good movie, by the way). He was nominated once again last year, and even though I didn't see the movie, I was rooting for it, simply out of principle.
Now, when you look at Who Framed Roger Rabbit? (see, I haven't forgotten what my topic was), you can see that it looks more real, more lifelike than both CGI movies, and subsequent live-action/animated mixed, such as the green screen-aided Space Jam and its ilk. That is a triumph in animation, methinks. And it is yet another reason why I pine for the good ol' days.
Wow, this post was all over the place. A sort of penance for my absence yesterday. Anyhoo, in conclusion, if you've never seen Who Framed Roger Rabbit?, do so. And if you have, do so again.
Tuesday, January 30, 2007
The Rotten Apple, Part II
Okay, back on track to yesterday's cliffhanger. Why does Steve Jobs have my money?
...Drumroll please...
My iPod broke.
"But Andrew, didn't you say you hated Apple with a passion? Why then, would you own an iPod?"
Be quiet, Victor! While it's true that I've never liked Apple, this story goes back to a simpler time. A little under two years ago, to be exact. Y'see, back then I was a bit more ignorant than I am nowadays about MP3 players and the like. Up until the time I graduated from high school, I had seen one iPod. One!
(There's a good reason for that, too, and it's why I don't think high school students should have iPods. In college, when you get finished with a class, you most likely have to walk a distance - alone. And unless you're the type to have a good conversation with yourself, this silence can be disturbing. However, when you're done with a high school class, you're in break. In the quad. You have friends to talk to. No music player needed.)
Now, where was I? Oh, yes! I was hopelessly clueless as to the whole world of digital music. To be blunt, I actually thought that the iPod was the only MP3 player available. After all, it was the one I was hearing about everywhere. Like I said, clueless. So, I bought one. Secretly, of course. I didn't want my parents finding out what I had spent a good chunk of my graduation money on. I then took every CD in my house that looked interesting and stuffed all their songs onto the included version of iTunes that installed on my dad's computer (secretly, of course). Off the top of my head, I'd say it was about 3,000 songs.
(By the way, when I finally did tell my parents. They couldn't be happier. It was a pretty practical purchase, after all. I'm not sure what I was afraid of.)
So, I had this iPod, which I brought to college with me, and it became my saving grace. Music is a very wonderful thing, as it turns out. And it seemed to work fine.
That is, until exactly one year, 3 weeks after I bought it.
I think the best term would be "cascading systems failure." In the 3 weeks preceding its death, my iPod skipped, skipped, and froze. After resetting the item, it would skip, skip, and freeze, doing it in half the time. Every day, it would mess up more and more. At one point, I would turn the damn thing on, choose a song, and within 10 seconds, it's frozen. The day after that, all it would display is a sad iPod with X's for eyes and a URL to their help website.
I logged onto that URL, looking for help. And I was given advice by a lot of other users. None of the advice worked. I thought I was finished. Then someone said, "Apple can replace it, you know."
It was a spark of light. So, I called Apple. I explained my situation. The only thing the woman cared to ask about, though, was "Do you have a warranty?"
"Um, I think so."
"When did you purchase the item in question?"
I frantically searched for a receipt. And I found one. I told her the date.
"I'm sorry, that warranty expired three weeks ago. We'll have to charge you for the repair. For what you described, that would be $249 plus tax!"
"Madam, what do you take me for?!" And I hung up.
My iPod was dead. It died three weeks after the warranty did. And it would cost the same to fix it as it would to buy a new one. I could feel my resentment toward that company grow.
As fate would have it, my father gave me his (he got it as a gift and never actually used it). It had half the memory size of mine (20GB instead of 40), but it gave me a second wind. I stockpiled all my songs onto it and was plum happy.
Until Sunday, that is.
Yes, once again, the exact same sequence of events; exact same cascading systems failure; exact same sad iPod and URL; exact same everything. This one was able to live for about one year, 7 weeks (I attribute the extra month to the fact that my dad hadn't opened the thing in half a year). I didn't even bother to go onto their help website. With the warranty over, the damn thing just became a paperweight.
And that's how I became Steve Jobs' "ideal customer": buying a new iPod every year. How frickin' convenient.
With all these grievances, why don't I just buy a different product, a different MP3 player? Well, my young padawan, remember what I said yesterday. About Apple having exclusive file formats. As it turns out, the iPod isn't an MP3 player at all. It's an M4A player. And all my music files are in the M4A format, a file type that essentially no other device will play.
That's how they get you. That's how they got me.
I currently have 5,289 songs in iTunes. In order to use a different player, I have to convert ALL of them to a different format (easier said than done, considering Apple's encryption policies).
I can't do it. I don't have the will.
And so, I went onto Apple's online store (I refuse to link to it) and got a new 30GB iPod. I didn't want a video version, but I don't really have a choice (I am not buying second-hand merchandise). And I bought the extended warranty. I truly believe that the iPod is the only product in existence where the extended warranty is a good deal, as the damn thing seems to be manufactured to fall apart after the one-year warranty dies.
The new iPod is scheduled to arrive tomorrow.
I hate Apple.
...Drumroll please...
My iPod broke.
"But Andrew, didn't you say you hated Apple with a passion? Why then, would you own an iPod?"
Be quiet, Victor! While it's true that I've never liked Apple, this story goes back to a simpler time. A little under two years ago, to be exact. Y'see, back then I was a bit more ignorant than I am nowadays about MP3 players and the like. Up until the time I graduated from high school, I had seen one iPod. One!
(There's a good reason for that, too, and it's why I don't think high school students should have iPods. In college, when you get finished with a class, you most likely have to walk a distance - alone. And unless you're the type to have a good conversation with yourself, this silence can be disturbing. However, when you're done with a high school class, you're in break. In the quad. You have friends to talk to. No music player needed.)
Now, where was I? Oh, yes! I was hopelessly clueless as to the whole world of digital music. To be blunt, I actually thought that the iPod was the only MP3 player available. After all, it was the one I was hearing about everywhere. Like I said, clueless. So, I bought one. Secretly, of course. I didn't want my parents finding out what I had spent a good chunk of my graduation money on. I then took every CD in my house that looked interesting and stuffed all their songs onto the included version of iTunes that installed on my dad's computer (secretly, of course). Off the top of my head, I'd say it was about 3,000 songs.
(By the way, when I finally did tell my parents. They couldn't be happier. It was a pretty practical purchase, after all. I'm not sure what I was afraid of.)
So, I had this iPod, which I brought to college with me, and it became my saving grace. Music is a very wonderful thing, as it turns out. And it seemed to work fine.
That is, until exactly one year, 3 weeks after I bought it.
I think the best term would be "cascading systems failure." In the 3 weeks preceding its death, my iPod skipped, skipped, and froze. After resetting the item, it would skip, skip, and freeze, doing it in half the time. Every day, it would mess up more and more. At one point, I would turn the damn thing on, choose a song, and within 10 seconds, it's frozen. The day after that, all it would display is a sad iPod with X's for eyes and a URL to their help website.
I logged onto that URL, looking for help. And I was given advice by a lot of other users. None of the advice worked. I thought I was finished. Then someone said, "Apple can replace it, you know."
It was a spark of light. So, I called Apple. I explained my situation. The only thing the woman cared to ask about, though, was "Do you have a warranty?"
"Um, I think so."
"When did you purchase the item in question?"
I frantically searched for a receipt. And I found one. I told her the date.
"I'm sorry, that warranty expired three weeks ago. We'll have to charge you for the repair. For what you described, that would be $249 plus tax!"
"Madam, what do you take me for?!" And I hung up.
My iPod was dead. It died three weeks after the warranty did. And it would cost the same to fix it as it would to buy a new one. I could feel my resentment toward that company grow.
As fate would have it, my father gave me his (he got it as a gift and never actually used it). It had half the memory size of mine (20GB instead of 40), but it gave me a second wind. I stockpiled all my songs onto it and was plum happy.
Until Sunday, that is.
Yes, once again, the exact same sequence of events; exact same cascading systems failure; exact same sad iPod and URL; exact same everything. This one was able to live for about one year, 7 weeks (I attribute the extra month to the fact that my dad hadn't opened the thing in half a year). I didn't even bother to go onto their help website. With the warranty over, the damn thing just became a paperweight.
And that's how I became Steve Jobs' "ideal customer": buying a new iPod every year. How frickin' convenient.
With all these grievances, why don't I just buy a different product, a different MP3 player? Well, my young padawan, remember what I said yesterday. About Apple having exclusive file formats. As it turns out, the iPod isn't an MP3 player at all. It's an M4A player. And all my music files are in the M4A format, a file type that essentially no other device will play.
That's how they get you. That's how they got me.
I currently have 5,289 songs in iTunes. In order to use a different player, I have to convert ALL of them to a different format (easier said than done, considering Apple's encryption policies).
I can't do it. I don't have the will.
And so, I went onto Apple's online store (I refuse to link to it) and got a new 30GB iPod. I didn't want a video version, but I don't really have a choice (I am not buying second-hand merchandise). And I bought the extended warranty. I truly believe that the iPod is the only product in existence where the extended warranty is a good deal, as the damn thing seems to be manufactured to fall apart after the one-year warranty dies.
The new iPod is scheduled to arrive tomorrow.
I hate Apple.
Monday, January 29, 2007
The Rotten Apple, Part I
Congratulations, Steve Jobs, you now have another $300+ of my money.
I like to think of myself as a fairly creative person. I write, I do some graphic design, I design a few t-shirts here and there, and when I get the free time, I even do some flash animation when I have the patience.
"Well, Andrew, based on your creative endeavors, I'd say you're a Macintosh lover."
Wrong, Victor von Killsport! I hate Apple! I loathe Apple with a seething passion. Its policies. Its promotions. Its president. I despise it all. I would post a certain YouTube video, but that would somewhat negate the purpose of a writing class. But what are the roots of my feelings? I'll just give the summarized version:
Policies: Apple has one reason it's alive - iPods, which is based heavily off their iTunes program. iTunes in and of itself is a fine program; easy to navigate and organize. However, God help you if you actually want to do anything with those music files. One activity I enjoy is sound editing via Adobe Audition. Sometimes I'll just do some voicework, but sometimes I want to work on music (that is, make remixes and altered versions). However, if I were to try to edit one of my 5,300 songs on iTunes, I couldn't. Why not? Because iTunes songs are m4a files, an audio format which works only on iTunes, and nowhere else.
Just as bad are Quicktime videos. I can play a video pretty easily, sure, but if I want to save a video, that's another ballgame entirely. In that case, I have to pony up $30 to buy Quicktime Pro. At least when Microsoft says something is free, there's actually a chance it is free. And can be used in a program other than their own media player.
Promotions: I consider myself a cultured person. That said, I dislike most kinds of culture. Pop-culture, counter-culture, underground-culture. It all seems so tacky to me. Funnily enough, Apple comprises many of these things. This is partially due to the fact that counter-culture is the new pop-culture, where trendy pseudo-intellectuals pull out a iBook to look up Robert Pinsky while sipping their Starbucks latte (for the record, though, I love Starbucks Green Tea Frappuccino...yum!). It's like these people are trying to say, "Look at me! I'm cool because everything I buy has rounded corners!"
And the Mac v. PC commercials. Egh. What a load of half-truths and whole lies. "Yes, I have a PC. That means I am incapable of doing anything related to enjoyment, except maybe...games?" Well, if I'm not mistaken (and I'm not), the PC can do everything a Mac can do and more, they can usually do them faster, and (in my experience) with less hassle. Of course, the TV ads make you think that PCs are used by a bunch of Neanderthal businessmen.
But I guess it's the impact that counts, isn't it? I was talking to my mom about the commercials, and she said, "Well, it doesn't matter to people how accurate they are, so long as they're entertaining."
(On a quick side note, I've made an observation, though I fear trying to make an assesment of it: females tend to see Apple more favorable than males. Whenever I tell a guy, "I'd never buy a Mac," he'll shake his head or something, but if I tell a woman the same thing, she'll jump all over me. "Why don't you like them? You should like them! They're cute and creative, just like you! Hey, where are you going? Don't walk away like that!")
President: Steve Jobs. He calls his own products "bitchin." He says that the ideal iPod customer is "one who buys a new iPod every year." Every time I read about him, he seems like a prick. I don't like him.
So why is he getting my money?
Well, I'll expand on that tomorrow.
I like to think of myself as a fairly creative person. I write, I do some graphic design, I design a few t-shirts here and there, and when I get the free time, I even do some flash animation when I have the patience.
"Well, Andrew, based on your creative endeavors, I'd say you're a Macintosh lover."
Wrong, Victor von Killsport! I hate Apple! I loathe Apple with a seething passion. Its policies. Its promotions. Its president. I despise it all. I would post a certain YouTube video, but that would somewhat negate the purpose of a writing class. But what are the roots of my feelings? I'll just give the summarized version:
Policies: Apple has one reason it's alive - iPods, which is based heavily off their iTunes program. iTunes in and of itself is a fine program; easy to navigate and organize. However, God help you if you actually want to do anything with those music files. One activity I enjoy is sound editing via Adobe Audition. Sometimes I'll just do some voicework, but sometimes I want to work on music (that is, make remixes and altered versions). However, if I were to try to edit one of my 5,300 songs on iTunes, I couldn't. Why not? Because iTunes songs are m4a files, an audio format which works only on iTunes, and nowhere else.
Just as bad are Quicktime videos. I can play a video pretty easily, sure, but if I want to save a video, that's another ballgame entirely. In that case, I have to pony up $30 to buy Quicktime Pro. At least when Microsoft says something is free, there's actually a chance it is free. And can be used in a program other than their own media player.
Promotions: I consider myself a cultured person. That said, I dislike most kinds of culture. Pop-culture, counter-culture, underground-culture. It all seems so tacky to me. Funnily enough, Apple comprises many of these things. This is partially due to the fact that counter-culture is the new pop-culture, where trendy pseudo-intellectuals pull out a iBook to look up Robert Pinsky while sipping their Starbucks latte (for the record, though, I love Starbucks Green Tea Frappuccino...yum!). It's like these people are trying to say, "Look at me! I'm cool because everything I buy has rounded corners!"
And the Mac v. PC commercials. Egh. What a load of half-truths and whole lies. "Yes, I have a PC. That means I am incapable of doing anything related to enjoyment, except maybe...games?" Well, if I'm not mistaken (and I'm not), the PC can do everything a Mac can do and more, they can usually do them faster, and (in my experience) with less hassle. Of course, the TV ads make you think that PCs are used by a bunch of Neanderthal businessmen.
But I guess it's the impact that counts, isn't it? I was talking to my mom about the commercials, and she said, "Well, it doesn't matter to people how accurate they are, so long as they're entertaining."
(On a quick side note, I've made an observation, though I fear trying to make an assesment of it: females tend to see Apple more favorable than males. Whenever I tell a guy, "I'd never buy a Mac," he'll shake his head or something, but if I tell a woman the same thing, she'll jump all over me. "Why don't you like them? You should like them! They're cute and creative, just like you! Hey, where are you going? Don't walk away like that!")
President: Steve Jobs. He calls his own products "bitchin." He says that the ideal iPod customer is "one who buys a new iPod every year." Every time I read about him, he seems like a prick. I don't like him.
So why is he getting my money?
Well, I'll expand on that tomorrow.
Thursday, January 25, 2007
The Horribleness Must End!!!
You know, I just realized the part of the English language (a language I love) that I really, truly hate:
Words with 3+ syllables that end in "-ness."
Basically, that's the liposuction of English; that is, where all the lazy people turn to. If you have an adjective with no appropriate noun, you have a choice. You can either be creative and formulate a beautiful, clever noun, or you can tack on a "-ness" to the end of it.
Some examples:
"Vivacious" becomes the tongue-twisting vivaciousness.
"Garrulous" (something I've been accused of being) becomes the horrible garrulousness.
"Horrible" becomes the completely juvenile horribleness.
Similarly, "terrible" becomes the equally ear-aching terribleness.
If you need another synonym for the last two words, try "awful." It becomes awfulness.
In my last example, "hopeless" becomes hopelessness. In doing so, I feel it loses most of its impact.
There, that's just a sampling of the verbal vomit that the suffix "-ness" comprises. Look them up, they're all real! I wish I could say that I made them up.
"But Andrew," you say, "despite your keen intelligence and handsome face, you're just complaining. Do you have any better ideas for these words?"
As a matter of fact, Victor von Killsport, I do!
The best way to start is with "vivacious." As it turns out, vivaciousness has a much more elegant, pleasing synonym. Vivacity. It means the exact same thing, but does a hell of a better job doing so. What's the key? It's the "-ity," of course. That suffix is much more pleasant to the ear, and it changes the whole pronunciation of the word, making you sound more like a scholar of Oxford than of NASCAR.
What if we performed this same grammatical surgery for the rest of the words. Think of how much better things would sound. And before you simply say "pish-posh" to these, consider the fact that you're used to you beloved "-ness" words, hearing them for all you life. That said, take a gander:
"Garrulous" --- garrulity. (Upon further research [i.e. the fact that my spell-checker didn't underline this] I happily discovered that "garrulity" is indeed a word.)
"Horrible" --- horriblity.
"Terrible" --- terriblity.
"Awful" --- awfulity.
And "hopeless"? Well, "hopeless" becomes despair.
You see? Isn't that better? Sometimes I feel its my mission in life to...well, not to reinvent the English language, but to make a few slight nudges here and there. You'll probably hear more of my ideas later.
Oh, and just to sate your curiosity, why did I specify that the words I hated were over 3 syllables long? Simple. There's a two-syllable "-ness" word that I love.
Madness.
Words with 3+ syllables that end in "-ness."
Basically, that's the liposuction of English; that is, where all the lazy people turn to. If you have an adjective with no appropriate noun, you have a choice. You can either be creative and formulate a beautiful, clever noun, or you can tack on a "-ness" to the end of it.
Some examples:
"Vivacious" becomes the tongue-twisting vivaciousness.
"Garrulous" (something I've been accused of being) becomes the horrible garrulousness.
"Horrible" becomes the completely juvenile horribleness.
Similarly, "terrible" becomes the equally ear-aching terribleness.
If you need another synonym for the last two words, try "awful." It becomes awfulness.
In my last example, "hopeless" becomes hopelessness. In doing so, I feel it loses most of its impact.
There, that's just a sampling of the verbal vomit that the suffix "-ness" comprises. Look them up, they're all real! I wish I could say that I made them up.
"But Andrew," you say, "despite your keen intelligence and handsome face, you're just complaining. Do you have any better ideas for these words?"
As a matter of fact, Victor von Killsport, I do!
The best way to start is with "vivacious." As it turns out, vivaciousness has a much more elegant, pleasing synonym. Vivacity. It means the exact same thing, but does a hell of a better job doing so. What's the key? It's the "-ity," of course. That suffix is much more pleasant to the ear, and it changes the whole pronunciation of the word, making you sound more like a scholar of Oxford than of NASCAR.
What if we performed this same grammatical surgery for the rest of the words. Think of how much better things would sound. And before you simply say "pish-posh" to these, consider the fact that you're used to you beloved "-ness" words, hearing them for all you life. That said, take a gander:
"Garrulous" --- garrulity. (Upon further research [i.e. the fact that my spell-checker didn't underline this] I happily discovered that "garrulity" is indeed a word.)
"Horrible" --- horriblity.
"Terrible" --- terriblity.
"Awful" --- awfulity.
And "hopeless"? Well, "hopeless" becomes despair.
You see? Isn't that better? Sometimes I feel its my mission in life to...well, not to reinvent the English language, but to make a few slight nudges here and there. You'll probably hear more of my ideas later.
Oh, and just to sate your curiosity, why did I specify that the words I hated were over 3 syllables long? Simple. There's a two-syllable "-ness" word that I love.
Madness.
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