Here were the answers from the Pier 1 Quiz.
S = Shakespeare
P= Pier 1
S-P-P-S-P-S-S-P-P-S-P-S-S-P-P-S-P-S-S-S-P-S-S-P-P-S-S-S-P-S-S-P-P-S-P-S-P-S-P-S-S-S-P-S
Now score yourself:
42-44 - "Scent"er of the universe
35-41 - Cogno"Scent"i
28-34 - Common "Scents"
20-27 - Fifty "Scent"
0-19 - Unscented
Saturday, November 20, 2004
Saturday, November 13, 2004
Pier 1 Quiz
I went to Pier 1 and bought a few candles recently. Not my usual sort of activity. In fact, aside from a few Chrsitmas gifts over the years, I don't think I've ever actually bought candles before. Not for myself anyway. You candle-shopping veterans may scoff at my ignorance, but I simply was not preapred for all the frufru fanciness to describe the various scents of these candles. I thought each scent would be limited to one word, like "Cinnamon" or "Peach" or something like that. Nope, each Pier 1 candle apparantly is a heady blend of about 8-12 spices and scents, most of which I had never heard of. Candles with names like "Asian Spice", "Riverwood" and "Waterberry" each had a list of about 10 sub-ingredients, such as "White Quince", "Warmed Musk" and "Lively Green Basil". All combining masterfully, I suppose, to create a unique, one of a kind candle fragrance.
The Pier 1 candle marketers need to ease up off the gay.
As a service to all holdiay candle shoppers, I offer this quiz:
Pier 1 Candle Fragrance? Or Shakespearean Character?
Imogen
Anise
Jonquil
Ajax
Muguet
Caliban
Mopsa
Vetiver
Nutmeg
Seacoal
Cyclamen
Dr. Pinch
Froth
Freesia
Bergamot
Sugarsop
Tuscan Herb
Alarbus
Lysander
Sir Falstaff
Fir Balsam
Oatcake
Old Gobbo
Cassis
Marigold
Tressel
Peasblossom
The Earl of Kent
Kava Kava
Melun
Dogberry
Plumeria
Crisp Greens
Arcite
Cardamom
Hamlet
Ylang Ylang
Cinna
Tonka Bean
Torchbearers
Mustardseed
Pandar
Heliotrope
Lord Falconridge
If you think you got that 100% right, you're wrong. Answers forthcoming.
The Pier 1 candle marketers need to ease up off the gay.
As a service to all holdiay candle shoppers, I offer this quiz:
Pier 1 Candle Fragrance? Or Shakespearean Character?
Imogen
Anise
Jonquil
Ajax
Muguet
Caliban
Mopsa
Vetiver
Nutmeg
Seacoal
Cyclamen
Dr. Pinch
Froth
Freesia
Bergamot
Sugarsop
Tuscan Herb
Alarbus
Lysander
Sir Falstaff
Fir Balsam
Oatcake
Old Gobbo
Cassis
Marigold
Tressel
Peasblossom
The Earl of Kent
Kava Kava
Melun
Dogberry
Plumeria
Crisp Greens
Arcite
Cardamom
Hamlet
Ylang Ylang
Cinna
Tonka Bean
Torchbearers
Mustardseed
Pandar
Heliotrope
Lord Falconridge
If you think you got that 100% right, you're wrong. Answers forthcoming.
Tuesday, November 09, 2004
Creditors
Let me fill you in on a little situation, and then I'll need some suggestions.
Ever since I moved to Las Vegas and got my new local phone number, I've been getting around three calls a week for "Andy" and "Patricia". Clearly, Andy and Patricia were the previous owners of the phone number. No big deal. But no matter how many times I explain to these various individuals that "Andy and Patricia don't live here no more." or "There ain't no Andy here, man." or "Dude, you've got an old number." the volume of these calls does not go down. In fact, it's been increasing.
And these callers aren't like normal wrong-number callers, who usually will apologize and hang up promptly when they discover their number is wrong or obsolete. No, these guys are persistent. Where is Andy? "I really don't know Andy. This is just his old number." How can I reach Andy? "Well, like I just said, I don't know Andy." But Andy just called me from this number. "Um, don't know what to tell you there." Well who are you? "Who am I? Who the fuck are you?" (click)
Clearly, these are creditors. Damn persistent creditors. Really persistent. You see, they're convinced that I AM Andy. And that I'm lying to them. The more honest I am, the more they think I'm lying through my teeth.
And they're employing some impressive creditor tricks. They call at various times of day. Early mornings, late nights. It's not just one person, it's several. There are businessy sounding guys, seductive women, old pal type guys... I pick up the phone and say hello, and it's "Heeyyyy, Andy!" "Andy, man, what's up!" Or a female voice "Hiiiiii sweetheart, Patricia there?" But then after my attempts at honest resolution of the wrong number, the tone gets angry and serious. WHERE IS ANDY. HOW CAN I REACH ANDY. WHO ARE YOU?
So you know what? I'm done being polite and honest. I am now officially prepared to fuck with these people. The next time they call, I am going to be Andy. The only question is how should I play it? Here's a scenario I came up with last night at the gym.
Them: "Hey Andy, how's it going?"
Me: "Mike! Thank God. Look, tell your brother we'll be in Vancouver tonight."
Them: "Um, this is Andy, right?"
Me: "Jesus! Why don't you say it a little louder? Just be quiet for a second. We're leaving for the airport in about 30 minutes. We're on American, flight... (talking away from the phone) Hey Pat... what's our flight number? What? Yeah Mike, it's flight 11-0-something. Look, you guys need to meet us at the airport in Vancouver. I do NOT feel comfortable carrying around all this cash in a suitcase, you understand? That was not part of the arrangement."
Them: "Uh... Andy?"
Me: "You're never going to see my ass in this country again, that's for sure."
Them: "....(pause)... What was that flight number again?"
Ah, that would be satisfying. Of course, that's a little high concept. Here's something a bit more basic.
Them: "Hello Andy?"
Me: "Yeah this is Andy."
Them: "Yes hello Andy! This is Mort Shackhauer from Visa collection. Hold on for just a second please, I'm going to conference Las Vegas Metro PD on this call.... Officer?
Officer: "Yes Mort, go ahead."
Them: "Andy. Are you aware that you've been ordered by Clarke County District A Superior Court to pay VISA an initial installment of ten thousand dollars by September 1st of this year, and that you have not made that payment?"
Me: "Relax guys! Look, I'm going to be a little late with the money."
Them: "The payment is already 3 months past due."
Me: "I just made a down payment on an Escalade this week for twice that much. And I'm going to be paying that thing off for years. You're going to have to cut me some slack."
Officer: (garble garble)..can impound that vehicle...
Me: "And let me tell you, it looks like a fucking behemoth I know. But it handles like a dream."
Them: "You think this is funny? You think you're being smart?"
Me: "Isn't there some statute of limitations on this? You should see what I got away with with my Amex. You think a wine cellar fills itself?"
And so on and so on. But really, there are an endless number of approaches here. I'd love to get some suggestions. Anyone?
Ever since I moved to Las Vegas and got my new local phone number, I've been getting around three calls a week for "Andy" and "Patricia". Clearly, Andy and Patricia were the previous owners of the phone number. No big deal. But no matter how many times I explain to these various individuals that "Andy and Patricia don't live here no more." or "There ain't no Andy here, man." or "Dude, you've got an old number." the volume of these calls does not go down. In fact, it's been increasing.
And these callers aren't like normal wrong-number callers, who usually will apologize and hang up promptly when they discover their number is wrong or obsolete. No, these guys are persistent. Where is Andy? "I really don't know Andy. This is just his old number." How can I reach Andy? "Well, like I just said, I don't know Andy." But Andy just called me from this number. "Um, don't know what to tell you there." Well who are you? "Who am I? Who the fuck are you?" (click)
Clearly, these are creditors. Damn persistent creditors. Really persistent. You see, they're convinced that I AM Andy. And that I'm lying to them. The more honest I am, the more they think I'm lying through my teeth.
And they're employing some impressive creditor tricks. They call at various times of day. Early mornings, late nights. It's not just one person, it's several. There are businessy sounding guys, seductive women, old pal type guys... I pick up the phone and say hello, and it's "Heeyyyy, Andy!" "Andy, man, what's up!" Or a female voice "Hiiiiii sweetheart, Patricia there?" But then after my attempts at honest resolution of the wrong number, the tone gets angry and serious. WHERE IS ANDY. HOW CAN I REACH ANDY. WHO ARE YOU?
So you know what? I'm done being polite and honest. I am now officially prepared to fuck with these people. The next time they call, I am going to be Andy. The only question is how should I play it? Here's a scenario I came up with last night at the gym.
Them: "Hey Andy, how's it going?"
Me: "Mike! Thank God. Look, tell your brother we'll be in Vancouver tonight."
Them: "Um, this is Andy, right?"
Me: "Jesus! Why don't you say it a little louder? Just be quiet for a second. We're leaving for the airport in about 30 minutes. We're on American, flight... (talking away from the phone) Hey Pat... what's our flight number? What? Yeah Mike, it's flight 11-0-something. Look, you guys need to meet us at the airport in Vancouver. I do NOT feel comfortable carrying around all this cash in a suitcase, you understand? That was not part of the arrangement."
Them: "Uh... Andy?"
Me: "You're never going to see my ass in this country again, that's for sure."
Them: "....(pause)... What was that flight number again?"
Ah, that would be satisfying. Of course, that's a little high concept. Here's something a bit more basic.
Them: "Hello Andy?"
Me: "Yeah this is Andy."
Them: "Yes hello Andy! This is Mort Shackhauer from Visa collection. Hold on for just a second please, I'm going to conference Las Vegas Metro PD on this call.... Officer?
Officer: "Yes Mort, go ahead."
Them: "Andy. Are you aware that you've been ordered by Clarke County District A Superior Court to pay VISA an initial installment of ten thousand dollars by September 1st of this year, and that you have not made that payment?"
Me: "Relax guys! Look, I'm going to be a little late with the money."
Them: "The payment is already 3 months past due."
Me: "I just made a down payment on an Escalade this week for twice that much. And I'm going to be paying that thing off for years. You're going to have to cut me some slack."
Officer: (garble garble)..can impound that vehicle...
Me: "And let me tell you, it looks like a fucking behemoth I know. But it handles like a dream."
Them: "You think this is funny? You think you're being smart?"
Me: "Isn't there some statute of limitations on this? You should see what I got away with with my Amex. You think a wine cellar fills itself?"
And so on and so on. But really, there are an endless number of approaches here. I'd love to get some suggestions. Anyone?
The Progress Bar
Ah, the march of technology. In our lifetimes, we've seen the personal computer go from the Commodore and the Altair all the way to the Vaio and the G-whatever. It's been a great ride.
I can remember hitting control-G on the Apple 2 to make it "beep". And what fun it was. I can remember executing a very simple two-picture animation on the Logowriter application on Commodore 64 to sorta make it look like two people humping. Oh the joy.
We've come a long way. We now live in the age of Cialix spam, pop up ads for spy cameras, pop up ads for software to block pop up ads, trolls, lurkers, newbies and flame-wars - all presided over by his dark lordship, the demon Clippy.
Well, that's just being negative. There's been plenty of positive delevopments too. But today I just have to complain about one piece of computing technology that was introduced maybe 20 years ago and just hasn't seen any improvement. It's still around, and it still sucks. I'm talking about the Progress Bar, or sometimes the "Time Remaining" display.
You know what I'm talking about. The indicator bar which tells you how much of your installation, download, or other time consuming operation is left. And my question is: how come, in all those 20 years, the progress bar or time-reamaining bar has never once been an actual reflection of reality?
You know it's true. You've long since learned to ignore it, or conditioned yourself to live with it, but now I invite you to give it some fresh consideration and share my righteous disgust.
I'll give you my bottom line right away, and that is this: if the progress bar doesn't work, if it's wonky, then I don't want to see it. Make it go away. It's worse than useless if it's giving me a faulty impression. Let me list the various problems.
1. We're all familiar with the visual, horizontal progress bar - the one that fills up from left to right. Why does it zip merrily along for the initial 75%, and then hit some kind of wall for the final quarter? Has no one in 20 years of Mac and Windows updates noticed this?
2. Why does the "Time Remaining" display not count seconds at the speed of, say, one second for every second? We've all seen this I trust: we start our download and the time remaining is 30 minutes. Then, time begins to elapse at about one minute every couple of seconds. This starts to slow, and eventually, we're only moving at around double time. Finally, for a single instant, the countdown elapses at an actually correct pace, and then time slows down, and slows down, and down... The final two minutes are like the final two minutes of an NFL game. You can pack a lot of timeouts, bathroom breaks and commercials into those two minutes. So basically, the whole thing is just one big parabola of incompetance.
3. Don't let me forget this one. The Time Remaining display that actually will start gaining time. You've seen it. You're down to 25 minutes, and then whoa... whoa... back up to 27! Then down to 26... then up to 28!
4. A progress bar that will appear to be legit. It moves along at basically a steady pace, a few hiccups, a few bursts of sudden speed, but nothing major. Finally, it fills up completely. Ah, you think. Job well done. But no, not quite. It doesn't go away. Now you're treated to a series of text messages: "creating directory".... "repaginating".... "verifying format"....."checking modular sync database recalc"... And before you know it, you've sat there another two minutes.
This would all be excusable as late as, maybe, 1995. But it's still just as bad as it ever was. Wouldn't it be cool, if, once in your lifetime, a progress bar appeared and moved at a deliciously smooth, regular pace? Then, the moment it was done, it was actually done? Why do we tolerate a 0.0% accuracy rate from our "time remaining" counters and progress bars?
Damn you Cohaagen! Give these people air!
I can remember hitting control-G on the Apple 2 to make it "beep". And what fun it was. I can remember executing a very simple two-picture animation on the Logowriter application on Commodore 64 to sorta make it look like two people humping. Oh the joy.
We've come a long way. We now live in the age of Cialix spam, pop up ads for spy cameras, pop up ads for software to block pop up ads, trolls, lurkers, newbies and flame-wars - all presided over by his dark lordship, the demon Clippy.
Well, that's just being negative. There's been plenty of positive delevopments too. But today I just have to complain about one piece of computing technology that was introduced maybe 20 years ago and just hasn't seen any improvement. It's still around, and it still sucks. I'm talking about the Progress Bar, or sometimes the "Time Remaining" display.
You know what I'm talking about. The indicator bar which tells you how much of your installation, download, or other time consuming operation is left. And my question is: how come, in all those 20 years, the progress bar or time-reamaining bar has never once been an actual reflection of reality?
You know it's true. You've long since learned to ignore it, or conditioned yourself to live with it, but now I invite you to give it some fresh consideration and share my righteous disgust.
I'll give you my bottom line right away, and that is this: if the progress bar doesn't work, if it's wonky, then I don't want to see it. Make it go away. It's worse than useless if it's giving me a faulty impression. Let me list the various problems.
1. We're all familiar with the visual, horizontal progress bar - the one that fills up from left to right. Why does it zip merrily along for the initial 75%, and then hit some kind of wall for the final quarter? Has no one in 20 years of Mac and Windows updates noticed this?
2. Why does the "Time Remaining" display not count seconds at the speed of, say, one second for every second? We've all seen this I trust: we start our download and the time remaining is 30 minutes. Then, time begins to elapse at about one minute every couple of seconds. This starts to slow, and eventually, we're only moving at around double time. Finally, for a single instant, the countdown elapses at an actually correct pace, and then time slows down, and slows down, and down... The final two minutes are like the final two minutes of an NFL game. You can pack a lot of timeouts, bathroom breaks and commercials into those two minutes. So basically, the whole thing is just one big parabola of incompetance.
3. Don't let me forget this one. The Time Remaining display that actually will start gaining time. You've seen it. You're down to 25 minutes, and then whoa... whoa... back up to 27! Then down to 26... then up to 28!
4. A progress bar that will appear to be legit. It moves along at basically a steady pace, a few hiccups, a few bursts of sudden speed, but nothing major. Finally, it fills up completely. Ah, you think. Job well done. But no, not quite. It doesn't go away. Now you're treated to a series of text messages: "creating directory".... "repaginating".... "verifying format"....."checking modular sync database recalc"... And before you know it, you've sat there another two minutes.
This would all be excusable as late as, maybe, 1995. But it's still just as bad as it ever was. Wouldn't it be cool, if, once in your lifetime, a progress bar appeared and moved at a deliciously smooth, regular pace? Then, the moment it was done, it was actually done? Why do we tolerate a 0.0% accuracy rate from our "time remaining" counters and progress bars?
Damn you Cohaagen! Give these people air!
Monday, November 08, 2004
80 Annoyances
61. The icy center of a microwaved burrito
62. A commercial describing a car as having “aggressive lines”
63. Alex Trebeck’s smug satisfaction after he makes a lame pun
64. When characters in sci-fi movies say “Whoa whoa! Say that in English!”
65. The “grooming” of Brian Williams
66. How U.S. News & World Report can somehow produce a “Special Commemorative Issue” every freaking week
67. Clippy
68. A locked piano
69. Local news
70. How the guy who got the game winning homer in extra innings will always be the “player of the game” despite absolutely anything that may have happened over the course of the first nine innings.
71. When you sit through a 5 minute talk radio commercial break and when the host comes back with all the usual music and fanfare, he just pitches some vitamins at you and then goes on break for another 5 minutes.
72. A school bus deploying the stop sign
73. Thinking it somehow makes you more of a man to call Heads on a coin flip
74. Handrails that move faster than the escalator
75. Interviewers interviewing interviewers
76. Cheap video game level design where the player is intended to die on his first attempt, so that he’ll memorize the trap and know how to avoid it the subsequent time.
77. When you had a complex question for your French teacher, and it was way beyond your ability to ask it in French, but she wouldn’t let you ask it in English. Not even after class.
78. Giving your pet a two-syllable name with the “eee” sound at the end.
79. People who just aren’t convinced by a locked bathroom door and insist on knocking to get a verbal confirmation
80. The policy at the New York Times Magazine where all cover photo subjects have to look glum, sour, pained, weary and vaguely angry, apparently regardless of all context
And this may not be here or there, but don't you think it would be nice if Chinese restaurants and other eateries that offer "family style" meals exclusively, if they'd offer some sort of solo-entree option? I mean, if I'm in the mood for cashew chicken, and I don't conveniently have people to join me, why should I be screwed? Yes, I can take the leftovers home, but what if I don't want to? What if I just want a portion of General Tso's chicken on a plate, with rice and a vegetable? Is that too much to ask?
62. A commercial describing a car as having “aggressive lines”
63. Alex Trebeck’s smug satisfaction after he makes a lame pun
64. When characters in sci-fi movies say “Whoa whoa! Say that in English!”
65. The “grooming” of Brian Williams
66. How U.S. News & World Report can somehow produce a “Special Commemorative Issue” every freaking week
67. Clippy
68. A locked piano
69. Local news
70. How the guy who got the game winning homer in extra innings will always be the “player of the game” despite absolutely anything that may have happened over the course of the first nine innings.
71. When you sit through a 5 minute talk radio commercial break and when the host comes back with all the usual music and fanfare, he just pitches some vitamins at you and then goes on break for another 5 minutes.
72. A school bus deploying the stop sign
73. Thinking it somehow makes you more of a man to call Heads on a coin flip
74. Handrails that move faster than the escalator
75. Interviewers interviewing interviewers
76. Cheap video game level design where the player is intended to die on his first attempt, so that he’ll memorize the trap and know how to avoid it the subsequent time.
77. When you had a complex question for your French teacher, and it was way beyond your ability to ask it in French, but she wouldn’t let you ask it in English. Not even after class.
78. Giving your pet a two-syllable name with the “eee” sound at the end.
79. People who just aren’t convinced by a locked bathroom door and insist on knocking to get a verbal confirmation
80. The policy at the New York Times Magazine where all cover photo subjects have to look glum, sour, pained, weary and vaguely angry, apparently regardless of all context
And this may not be here or there, but don't you think it would be nice if Chinese restaurants and other eateries that offer "family style" meals exclusively, if they'd offer some sort of solo-entree option? I mean, if I'm in the mood for cashew chicken, and I don't conveniently have people to join me, why should I be screwed? Yes, I can take the leftovers home, but what if I don't want to? What if I just want a portion of General Tso's chicken on a plate, with rice and a vegetable? Is that too much to ask?
Wednesday, November 03, 2004
The Freakishly Tall NBA
Just a brief topic today.
My problem with professional Basketball. Don't you think there's an inherent problem with a sport that offers such an enormous built in advantage to being taller than your opponent? Other sports demand things like speed, strength, agility, dexterity, endurance... all things that can be earned through hard training and work. And yes, certain sports rewards things like sheer size and height - a boxer's reach or a jockey's tinyness for example.
But no sport goes to the length that basketball does in this regard. The basketball height advantage isn't something you can gloss over. It isn't just a slight edge. It's 100% crucial and completely determinative. In order to play professional basketball, you must, MUST be freakishly tall. You need to be a 7'1" circus freak. I, personally am 6'4". I am the tallest person I know. I see people taller than me maybe 5 or 6 times a year, and when I do I think "Fuck, look at that guy." So I'm tall. And I, a taller person than 99.99% of the human population, couldn't even show up for basketball tryouts because I'm too short. My point is that there is something seriously wrong with that.
Now yes yes, I know, you hard core basketball fans can now start naming a list of 6'1" speedy guys who are crucial to their teams. I don't care. They are the exception that proves the rule.
My problem with the freakishly tall NBA is this. 1) We're not getting the best game of basketball we could be getting, (more on that in a bit) and 2) It goes against the American ideal that sports is supposed to be a meritocracy. That with a lot of hard work and effort and dedication, you too could be a superstar. Not in basketball you can't.
We have weight classes for wrestling and boxing, don't we? And isn't it true that middle weight boxing is generally more interesting and strategic than heavyweight boxing? That it's better boxing? Heavyweights punch with such strength that if they can land just a few direct hits, it's lights out. Also, then burn fuel super quick so they're exhausted by the second round. Boring.
Basketball needs height divisions. I bet if you organized a "no bigger than 6-foot" league and a "no bigger than 6-5" leagure, you'd see some damn good basketball. Maybe not as many theatrical dunks, but damn good basketball.
Am I supposed to be impressed when Yao Ming swats away a shot or a rebound without even jumping, due simply to his mutant, freakish height? That's not great athleticism, that's a sideshow act.
My problem with professional Basketball. Don't you think there's an inherent problem with a sport that offers such an enormous built in advantage to being taller than your opponent? Other sports demand things like speed, strength, agility, dexterity, endurance... all things that can be earned through hard training and work. And yes, certain sports rewards things like sheer size and height - a boxer's reach or a jockey's tinyness for example.
But no sport goes to the length that basketball does in this regard. The basketball height advantage isn't something you can gloss over. It isn't just a slight edge. It's 100% crucial and completely determinative. In order to play professional basketball, you must, MUST be freakishly tall. You need to be a 7'1" circus freak. I, personally am 6'4". I am the tallest person I know. I see people taller than me maybe 5 or 6 times a year, and when I do I think "Fuck, look at that guy." So I'm tall. And I, a taller person than 99.99% of the human population, couldn't even show up for basketball tryouts because I'm too short. My point is that there is something seriously wrong with that.
Now yes yes, I know, you hard core basketball fans can now start naming a list of 6'1" speedy guys who are crucial to their teams. I don't care. They are the exception that proves the rule.
My problem with the freakishly tall NBA is this. 1) We're not getting the best game of basketball we could be getting, (more on that in a bit) and 2) It goes against the American ideal that sports is supposed to be a meritocracy. That with a lot of hard work and effort and dedication, you too could be a superstar. Not in basketball you can't.
We have weight classes for wrestling and boxing, don't we? And isn't it true that middle weight boxing is generally more interesting and strategic than heavyweight boxing? That it's better boxing? Heavyweights punch with such strength that if they can land just a few direct hits, it's lights out. Also, then burn fuel super quick so they're exhausted by the second round. Boring.
Basketball needs height divisions. I bet if you organized a "no bigger than 6-foot" league and a "no bigger than 6-5" leagure, you'd see some damn good basketball. Maybe not as many theatrical dunks, but damn good basketball.
Am I supposed to be impressed when Yao Ming swats away a shot or a rebound without even jumping, due simply to his mutant, freakish height? That's not great athleticism, that's a sideshow act.
Saturday, October 30, 2004
I am Ignorant
I've taken a strong stand against bullshit on these pages, so it only seems fair that I own up to my own periodic bullshit. Because I do bullshit sometimes. Sometimes often. Often quite frequently.
Here are twenty things I feel very comfortable faking knowledge of, yet in truth have no idea about.
The definition of meretricious. Also febrile.
The expression Sine Qua Non
The 2nd Vatican Council
What the French and Indian war was all about.
Ditto the Treaty of Utrect, The Edict of Nantes and the Diet of Worms.
The rules of backgammon
The basic mechanical principles behind plumbing
I don’t think I could place Martin Luther in the correct century.
The geographic distinctions between Incas, Aztecs and Mayans
Happy Days, Laverne and Shirley, All in the Family, What’s Happening, Saved by the Bell, the show with Urkel, the one with Jim J. Bullock, and the one with the magical talking cat.
The plot of King Lear, Citizen Kane, North by Northwest, Brazil, Taxi Driver, Don Quixote, Bonnie and Clyde, and many more I'm sure.
Esperanto
The Hapsburg Empire
The various tie-knotting styles like the double-windsor
An alarming amount of the buttons, knobs, settings and displays inside my car.
The difference between a bicameral and unicameral legislature
I can’t name a single thing that happened in the 400 years between the fall of Rome and the beginning of the middle ages.
The whole deal with the Sandinistas. Also Patty Hearst. (possibly related?)
The name of any New York mayor pre-Koch (with the exception of La Guardia) Also any British Prime Minister between Churchill and Thatcher
Menu terms, including but not limited to “garlic aioli”, “coulis”, a “ragout”, anything involving shoots, a “brioche” and fennel.
The ease with which I was able to come up with those should give you an indication of the hundreds or maybe thousands of additional items that could also be on the list. Recently though, I learned the meaning of "Habeus Corpus" and also what write-offs are. ("Produce the body" and a company abandoning old debt that it concludes it can never recover) But I would have felt quite at ease feigning a working knowledge of either one. You never know with me. I just may be bullshitting.
Here are twenty things I feel very comfortable faking knowledge of, yet in truth have no idea about.
The definition of meretricious. Also febrile.
The expression Sine Qua Non
The 2nd Vatican Council
What the French and Indian war was all about.
Ditto the Treaty of Utrect, The Edict of Nantes and the Diet of Worms.
The rules of backgammon
The basic mechanical principles behind plumbing
I don’t think I could place Martin Luther in the correct century.
The geographic distinctions between Incas, Aztecs and Mayans
Happy Days, Laverne and Shirley, All in the Family, What’s Happening, Saved by the Bell, the show with Urkel, the one with Jim J. Bullock, and the one with the magical talking cat.
The plot of King Lear, Citizen Kane, North by Northwest, Brazil, Taxi Driver, Don Quixote, Bonnie and Clyde, and many more I'm sure.
Esperanto
The Hapsburg Empire
The various tie-knotting styles like the double-windsor
An alarming amount of the buttons, knobs, settings and displays inside my car.
The difference between a bicameral and unicameral legislature
I can’t name a single thing that happened in the 400 years between the fall of Rome and the beginning of the middle ages.
The whole deal with the Sandinistas. Also Patty Hearst. (possibly related?)
The name of any New York mayor pre-Koch (with the exception of La Guardia) Also any British Prime Minister between Churchill and Thatcher
Menu terms, including but not limited to “garlic aioli”, “coulis”, a “ragout”, anything involving shoots, a “brioche” and fennel.
The ease with which I was able to come up with those should give you an indication of the hundreds or maybe thousands of additional items that could also be on the list. Recently though, I learned the meaning of "Habeus Corpus" and also what write-offs are. ("Produce the body" and a company abandoning old debt that it concludes it can never recover) But I would have felt quite at ease feigning a working knowledge of either one. You never know with me. I just may be bullshitting.
Monday, October 18, 2004
Fiendish Spam
This letter showed up in my email inbox today. I'm baffled. It's either an honestly mismailed personal letter, or the most fiendish piece of spam I've ever seen. If it really is Spam, then I guess it's trying to subliminally get me to vote for John Kerry. I'll print it here. Wow. Well done spammers. Well done.
Hey Brett,
How's school? Did you hear Dustin got his head shaved? Probably looks like a Gi La (Gi La douche) that is. Kerry relayed the word that you have been quite the partier at College this year. I on the other hand have been laying low as usual. Our season is going shitty, 1-6. I've been playing well though for what I have to work with. Did you see the new Aneuretical website? Aneuretical.com They got a new CD out, it sounds the same as the last one though. Kerry has been talking to some girls lately there is one that likes Josiah, but i see the sparks when Mr. Colorful (personality) talks to her. She is pretty cute so I encourage Kerry to "tap that,"as we say in hogh school. not really that is something that D$ probably says. I say hi to Jeff in front of his sophomore friends to make him look cool. He stopped calling me "Schwietz!" so that is good. I like the song "Indication" by The Zombies. they palyed 1st Ave a little bit ago. Maybe they saw all of the things we wrote in the 7th Street basement. "Wasteless Tillard" and "the Exchange...Will never play here." Man me and Kerry the John Kerry duo wrote a lot of disgaceful stuff in there. I can't even remember half of the rediculous things we put. that was sweet. i got a new keyboard that you'd like because my old one still isn't fixed, I got a loaner fro GC that I will just end up keeping because it is more like the Yamaha and less like the EMU, with a hint of awesomeness. Roland XP-10
Anyways I gotta go computers are taking over the world.
Mr. Street Hockey himself
Hey Brett,
How's school? Did you hear Dustin got his head shaved? Probably looks like a Gi La (Gi La douche) that is. Kerry relayed the word that you have been quite the partier at College this year. I on the other hand have been laying low as usual. Our season is going shitty, 1-6. I've been playing well though for what I have to work with. Did you see the new Aneuretical website? Aneuretical.com They got a new CD out, it sounds the same as the last one though. Kerry has been talking to some girls lately there is one that likes Josiah, but i see the sparks when Mr. Colorful (personality) talks to her. She is pretty cute so I encourage Kerry to "tap that,"as we say in hogh school. not really that is something that D$ probably says. I say hi to Jeff in front of his sophomore friends to make him look cool. He stopped calling me "Schwietz!" so that is good. I like the song "Indication" by The Zombies. they palyed 1st Ave a little bit ago. Maybe they saw all of the things we wrote in the 7th Street basement. "Wasteless Tillard" and "the Exchange...Will never play here." Man me and Kerry the John Kerry duo wrote a lot of disgaceful stuff in there. I can't even remember half of the rediculous things we put. that was sweet. i got a new keyboard that you'd like because my old one still isn't fixed, I got a loaner fro GC that I will just end up keeping because it is more like the Yamaha and less like the EMU, with a hint of awesomeness. Roland XP-10
Anyways I gotta go computers are taking over the world.
Mr. Street Hockey himself
Saturday, October 16, 2004
Bum a Smoke
"Bum a smoke?" asked the guy on the street yesterday.
I don't smoke, never have. But I wish I did. I would have said "Nope." then pulled out a full pack and casually lit up.
The "bum a smoke" system works, in theory. Smokers helping out other smokers in need. Sounds good. But don't you think if you could cosmically total up all the ledgers of smoke bummers and bummees, you'd find that there's a whole class of smokers just ruthlessly exploiting the "bum a smoke" courtesy?
And this is just my observation as a non smoker. Do you really think that broke ass kid from the street yesterday with his shaved head and too-low jeans is giving away cigarettes with the same enthusiasm that he's bumming them? I've known plenty of cheap bastards, possibly including myself, and I know a scam when I see one.
Here's my position. If I was a smoker, I'd constantly stock myself with an abundance of packs. This way I'd never need to bum a smoke. And I'd have a strict no charity policy. Well maybe if it was a poor orphan boy who just wanted one cigarette to stay warm, I'd make an exception, but that's it. Maybe I'd sell individual cigarettes to other smokers at a profit-maximizing markup, but no bumming from my stash. The way I see it (and I address this to the bummers) you know you are addicted to cigarettes. You know, approximately, how many you'll need per day. You can plan ahead. You can save money buying cartons, or even cases of cartons, rather than packs. You can, if you want, order name-brand cigarettes for huge discounts from overseas, via the internet. You could stock up for 6 months at a time, even a year. Think, just for a moment, how many dollars you'd save per year doing this.
Smokers have told me they shy from this for two reasons. One, on some weird psychological level, every smoker would like to pretend that this new pack is going to be the last pack. Therefore, to buy in bulk in advance destroys that fantasy. Two, smokers deliberately don't carry a lot of cigarettes around at any one time, using the constant shortage of cigarettes as a simple way to limit their smoking.
Both of those reasons I don't accept. I embrace my addictions. Coffee. Gambling. Junk food. I don't apologize. I don't pretend. I don't walk into a card room saying okay, this will be the last time.
But the guys who bum smokes all the time aren't necessarily caught in a vise of psychological turmoil and denial, they're just cheap bastards who've realized they can endlessly abuse this courtesy and get away scot free. I think it's pathetic. Just look at this verb: bum. To bum. It's an acknowledgement that the person in question is literally begging for a cigarette. That they are a bum. Can I have a cigarette? I am a worthless bum.
I say respect yourself, and own up to your addiction. When was the last time you ever ran out of, say, toilet paper? You don't run out of toilet paper, because you NEED toilet paper. When the supply gets low, you buy more. How often do you run out of gas? Never. The same should apply with cigarettes.
Now I'm tempted to start smoking just so I can carry around extra packs and not give them to people. Thank God I never started. What a truly stupid decision it is, to put that first cigarette in your mouth. But that's another rant.
I don't smoke, never have. But I wish I did. I would have said "Nope." then pulled out a full pack and casually lit up.
The "bum a smoke" system works, in theory. Smokers helping out other smokers in need. Sounds good. But don't you think if you could cosmically total up all the ledgers of smoke bummers and bummees, you'd find that there's a whole class of smokers just ruthlessly exploiting the "bum a smoke" courtesy?
And this is just my observation as a non smoker. Do you really think that broke ass kid from the street yesterday with his shaved head and too-low jeans is giving away cigarettes with the same enthusiasm that he's bumming them? I've known plenty of cheap bastards, possibly including myself, and I know a scam when I see one.
Here's my position. If I was a smoker, I'd constantly stock myself with an abundance of packs. This way I'd never need to bum a smoke. And I'd have a strict no charity policy. Well maybe if it was a poor orphan boy who just wanted one cigarette to stay warm, I'd make an exception, but that's it. Maybe I'd sell individual cigarettes to other smokers at a profit-maximizing markup, but no bumming from my stash. The way I see it (and I address this to the bummers) you know you are addicted to cigarettes. You know, approximately, how many you'll need per day. You can plan ahead. You can save money buying cartons, or even cases of cartons, rather than packs. You can, if you want, order name-brand cigarettes for huge discounts from overseas, via the internet. You could stock up for 6 months at a time, even a year. Think, just for a moment, how many dollars you'd save per year doing this.
Smokers have told me they shy from this for two reasons. One, on some weird psychological level, every smoker would like to pretend that this new pack is going to be the last pack. Therefore, to buy in bulk in advance destroys that fantasy. Two, smokers deliberately don't carry a lot of cigarettes around at any one time, using the constant shortage of cigarettes as a simple way to limit their smoking.
Both of those reasons I don't accept. I embrace my addictions. Coffee. Gambling. Junk food. I don't apologize. I don't pretend. I don't walk into a card room saying okay, this will be the last time.
But the guys who bum smokes all the time aren't necessarily caught in a vise of psychological turmoil and denial, they're just cheap bastards who've realized they can endlessly abuse this courtesy and get away scot free. I think it's pathetic. Just look at this verb: bum. To bum. It's an acknowledgement that the person in question is literally begging for a cigarette. That they are a bum. Can I have a cigarette? I am a worthless bum.
I say respect yourself, and own up to your addiction. When was the last time you ever ran out of, say, toilet paper? You don't run out of toilet paper, because you NEED toilet paper. When the supply gets low, you buy more. How often do you run out of gas? Never. The same should apply with cigarettes.
Now I'm tempted to start smoking just so I can carry around extra packs and not give them to people. Thank God I never started. What a truly stupid decision it is, to put that first cigarette in your mouth. But that's another rant.
Thursday, October 14, 2004
SAY CHRISTMAS
Well, this is it. This is the big one. This is the one I've been saving. The ultimate petty annoyance that towers over the rest. I wanted to wait until the middle of October to bring it up, since we are now officially on the cusp of The Holiday Season.
We are literally a week, maybe two away from our first santa commercial of the year, followed closely by the unveiling of this year's new batch of crappy soft jazz Christmas music which will be piped over mall PA systems nationwide. Starbucks imitators all over the country will soon be bringing out their deep, aromatic holiday blends - and last years leftover Christmas stock is being dusted off in backrooms as we speak, prepped for October clearance.
Hell, I just got my "December" issue of Electronic Gaming Monthly today. Today, just to remind you, is OCTOBER 14th.
But this is all kindling, a preparty, mere foreplay compared to Q4's biggest petty annoyance of them all: the refusal of media, businesses and advertising to say the word Christmas.
No one will say the word Christmas. Even as they exploit Christmas, even as they depend of Christmas for their very livelihood, they simply cannot utter the word. First, the euphemism of choice was "Season's Greetings", then "Happy Holidays". Now, the word Holiday (frequently capitalized) is used as a direct substitute for the word Christmas.
Saying "Happy Holidays" I suppose is marginally acceptable if you're addressing a large audience and you want to cover all bases. But saying it out of fear of offending someone with the word Christmas - that makes me mad. Saying it while simultaneously cashing in on Christmas-specific marketing and Christmas-specific custom - that makes me mad.
Friends, Christmas is the real deal. It's a kickass holiday. And I say that as a proud atheist / former Jew. Christmas rocks. And no offense to my many Jewish relatives and friends, but Hanukah is a blatant ripoff. It's history's original Digimon. Do you know why Hanukah falls on different days in December every year? It's because the original Jews, way back when, weren't using the superior Christian calendar. They were still on a lunar calendar. Do you know what kind of mathematical handstands and cartwheels they had to do to ensure that Hanukah always fell in close proximity to Christmas? It's obvious, just by looking at how Hanukah is scheduled, that its entire purpose is to counter the successful conversion tool that was Christmas. Hanukah is one big fakeapalooza. The miracle of the lights. Please. Quick, people, we need a good miracle! Is there anything good in Leviticus? How about Numbers?
And let's not get started on Kwanzaa. Really, let's not.
So Christmas is the real thing. (barring some evidence that some Christmas rituals are based on even older forms of Pagan tree worship) And everyone in our media and in the world of commerce is too chicken shit to even say the word. It puts food on their plate, it creates their end of year bonus, and they're too scared to say it.
Back when I was a believing Jew, I had NO PROBLEM with Christmas. You could shout it from the rooftops, you could put nativity scenes in post offices, I would not have cared at all. I understood perfectly well in those days that I lived in a predominantly Christian culture, and I had no desire to interfere in anyone else's faith. Watching Christians celebrate Christmas was, if nothing else, one way to learn about another religion, another culture. Do you think I would ever set up shop in India and start complaining about public displays of the Hindu faith? That would be absurd.
The worst, I think, was that Petsmart commercial from last year. It featured a dog dancing gaily around a Christmas tree on Christmas morning, with presents strewn everywhere, and a beaming mom and dad looking down at the dog's happiness.
"Look how excited he is honey!" says mom. "It's his first holiday!"
You CHICKEN SHITS! I will never, ever buy anything from petsmart for as long as I live. How about the coke commercial with Santa drinking from a tall bottle of coke (where can you get those by the way? The glass bottles of coke? I've only ever seen Santa drinking from them. Can ordinary people get them too?) Anyway, Santa takes a cool, refreshing sip (you know how hot it gets at the North Pole) and says "Happy Holidays."
Happy Holidays? From Santa? Isn't he supposed to be Christian? Endowed by God with supernatural powers? And if that's true, doesn't he have firsthand knowledge that Hannukah and Kwanzaa are a bunch of bullshit? Why would he make concessions to them? God forbid Santa should offend anyone who doesn't believe in Santa's existence.
Again, let me state my credentials here. I am not a Christian, never was one. I most surely do not believe in God. I think all religions are terribly, terribly wrong. And yet when people are too scared to even say the word Christmas, when the very word becomes a taboo, it makes me want to kick some ass. Of course, if some people really would be offended by hearing the word Christmas in a commercial, I would want to kick their asses too. In fact, they'd go first. But in my opinion the bigger crime is to pander to that deluded hypersensitivity.
Say Christmas!!!
Now, I'm going to be keeping a careful watch this Holiday Season. I'm going to keep my ears open. Those businesses with enough balls to actually say Christmas will get my business, no matter how awkward it may be for me personally. If it's a local commercial for a timber company, then I guess I'll buy some cordwood. If it's a commercial for a festive bottle of Cold Duck, then I'll drink some Cold Duck.
And any business that uses "Holiday Season" when they mean Christmas gets a year boycott from me. And any commercial that uses "Holiday" in the singular, as a direct substitute for the word Christmas (a la Petsmart) gets a lifetime boycott. Anybody want to join me?
We are literally a week, maybe two away from our first santa commercial of the year, followed closely by the unveiling of this year's new batch of crappy soft jazz Christmas music which will be piped over mall PA systems nationwide. Starbucks imitators all over the country will soon be bringing out their deep, aromatic holiday blends - and last years leftover Christmas stock is being dusted off in backrooms as we speak, prepped for October clearance.
Hell, I just got my "December" issue of Electronic Gaming Monthly today. Today, just to remind you, is OCTOBER 14th.
But this is all kindling, a preparty, mere foreplay compared to Q4's biggest petty annoyance of them all: the refusal of media, businesses and advertising to say the word Christmas.
No one will say the word Christmas. Even as they exploit Christmas, even as they depend of Christmas for their very livelihood, they simply cannot utter the word. First, the euphemism of choice was "Season's Greetings", then "Happy Holidays". Now, the word Holiday (frequently capitalized) is used as a direct substitute for the word Christmas.
Saying "Happy Holidays" I suppose is marginally acceptable if you're addressing a large audience and you want to cover all bases. But saying it out of fear of offending someone with the word Christmas - that makes me mad. Saying it while simultaneously cashing in on Christmas-specific marketing and Christmas-specific custom - that makes me mad.
Friends, Christmas is the real deal. It's a kickass holiday. And I say that as a proud atheist / former Jew. Christmas rocks. And no offense to my many Jewish relatives and friends, but Hanukah is a blatant ripoff. It's history's original Digimon. Do you know why Hanukah falls on different days in December every year? It's because the original Jews, way back when, weren't using the superior Christian calendar. They were still on a lunar calendar. Do you know what kind of mathematical handstands and cartwheels they had to do to ensure that Hanukah always fell in close proximity to Christmas? It's obvious, just by looking at how Hanukah is scheduled, that its entire purpose is to counter the successful conversion tool that was Christmas. Hanukah is one big fakeapalooza. The miracle of the lights. Please. Quick, people, we need a good miracle! Is there anything good in Leviticus? How about Numbers?
And let's not get started on Kwanzaa. Really, let's not.
So Christmas is the real thing. (barring some evidence that some Christmas rituals are based on even older forms of Pagan tree worship) And everyone in our media and in the world of commerce is too chicken shit to even say the word. It puts food on their plate, it creates their end of year bonus, and they're too scared to say it.
Back when I was a believing Jew, I had NO PROBLEM with Christmas. You could shout it from the rooftops, you could put nativity scenes in post offices, I would not have cared at all. I understood perfectly well in those days that I lived in a predominantly Christian culture, and I had no desire to interfere in anyone else's faith. Watching Christians celebrate Christmas was, if nothing else, one way to learn about another religion, another culture. Do you think I would ever set up shop in India and start complaining about public displays of the Hindu faith? That would be absurd.
The worst, I think, was that Petsmart commercial from last year. It featured a dog dancing gaily around a Christmas tree on Christmas morning, with presents strewn everywhere, and a beaming mom and dad looking down at the dog's happiness.
"Look how excited he is honey!" says mom. "It's his first holiday!"
You CHICKEN SHITS! I will never, ever buy anything from petsmart for as long as I live. How about the coke commercial with Santa drinking from a tall bottle of coke (where can you get those by the way? The glass bottles of coke? I've only ever seen Santa drinking from them. Can ordinary people get them too?) Anyway, Santa takes a cool, refreshing sip (you know how hot it gets at the North Pole) and says "Happy Holidays."
Happy Holidays? From Santa? Isn't he supposed to be Christian? Endowed by God with supernatural powers? And if that's true, doesn't he have firsthand knowledge that Hannukah and Kwanzaa are a bunch of bullshit? Why would he make concessions to them? God forbid Santa should offend anyone who doesn't believe in Santa's existence.
Again, let me state my credentials here. I am not a Christian, never was one. I most surely do not believe in God. I think all religions are terribly, terribly wrong. And yet when people are too scared to even say the word Christmas, when the very word becomes a taboo, it makes me want to kick some ass. Of course, if some people really would be offended by hearing the word Christmas in a commercial, I would want to kick their asses too. In fact, they'd go first. But in my opinion the bigger crime is to pander to that deluded hypersensitivity.
Say Christmas!!!
Now, I'm going to be keeping a careful watch this Holiday Season. I'm going to keep my ears open. Those businesses with enough balls to actually say Christmas will get my business, no matter how awkward it may be for me personally. If it's a local commercial for a timber company, then I guess I'll buy some cordwood. If it's a commercial for a festive bottle of Cold Duck, then I'll drink some Cold Duck.
And any business that uses "Holiday Season" when they mean Christmas gets a year boycott from me. And any commercial that uses "Holiday" in the singular, as a direct substitute for the word Christmas (a la Petsmart) gets a lifetime boycott. Anybody want to join me?
Sunday, October 03, 2004
Theft and Extortion
Have you ever seen someone steal newspapers out of a newspaper machine? Meaning - they pay for one paper and take several? Or all of them?
This is just so depressing. So tragic. So annoying. The newspaper machine may just be society's last honor-system-based business transaction. You put in some change, you take a paper. Do you really want to see the day when newspaper merchants are forced to come up with some thief-proof machine that dispenses indivdual newspapers?
All over our society, we adopt a paranoid, defensive stance - evidence of the lowest common denominator. Inside the locker room of my members-only gym (home of the man ass) I'm expected to put a lock on my locker. (And for good reason - my dad recently had the credit cards stolen out of his wallet in his gym) This implies, doesn't it, that we're dealing with thieves who have gym memberships. That the guy next to you could be a thief. That you, conceivably, could be a thief. When I take a towel at the gym, I have to leave my membership card with the towel guy. So I can't steal the towel. Every day we go through this transaction - I hand him the card, he hands me the towel. The unspoken message: "Aha, towel thief! I have your card. Let's see you try to steal this one!"
I don't blame the gym for doing this. They've probably had towels stolen in the past. But the thief did more than just steal a towel, he eroded the trust level to the point where me and the towel guy have to go through this daily ritual. That's the legacy of the theft.
The other day I was playing poker at Binions, center of the poker universe. A fine card room. I had noticed my chair was a little wobbly, but it didn't bother me so I ignored it. About an hour into my session, I stood up to stretch. When I sat back down, the chair collapsed under me like it was oragami. I tumbled over backwards, sending two drinks flying as I flailed my arms, and ended up laying comically splayed on the floor. Not my finest moment.
Within seconds, three poker room personnel were at my side, helping me up and asking me if I was okay. I was fine. A little embarassed, maybe. But unhurt. Someone snapped his fingers and a new chair was brought over. A guard came jogging to the scene, followed by the security manager. Did I want to go to the emergency room? No. Was I sure? Yes. Would I mind signing a statement declaring what happened? Sure, I guess. An engineer arrived, and he and the manager started examining the busted chair to see why it had broke. The manager called surveillance to flag the tape. The guard presented me with a form to sign. My driver's license was taken away to be photocopied.
As I started writing the statement, other players came up to me to offer some quick advice. I heard things like "Son, if I were you I wouldn't sign shit." "If you want to talk a lawyer, you might be looking at anything from 5 to 50 grand." "You heard about that one woman at the Orleans? She slipped in the bathroom, now she's got a room for life."
I brushed these guys off, finished writing the form (which had questions along the line of who did I blame for the accident, how much personal property was damaged, etc) and eventually life went back to normal.
The whole incident was kinda funny, but also kind of sad. The casino was clearly terrified of little accidents like this. They had a whole procedure ready for someone falling out of his chair. The other players were like jackals - licking their chops, wishing it them that had the good luck to be in the busted chair. Some bystanders were wondering aloud if I should at least be offered a dinner. I had to explain patiently to many of them that I wasn't interested in seeking legal redress. Because, simply, I wasn't hurt. To sue them would be nothing but extortion. To ask for favors would just be greedy.
I don't know. Wouldn't it be nice if people weren't presumed to be thieves? Wouldn't it be nice if people didn't just presume I'd be eager to extort money from a business simply because I fell out of a chair? Let's leave those newspaper machines alone people. Those little boxy machines are the only things left in society that don't assume you're a greedy, thieving worm. Have some respect.
This is just so depressing. So tragic. So annoying. The newspaper machine may just be society's last honor-system-based business transaction. You put in some change, you take a paper. Do you really want to see the day when newspaper merchants are forced to come up with some thief-proof machine that dispenses indivdual newspapers?
All over our society, we adopt a paranoid, defensive stance - evidence of the lowest common denominator. Inside the locker room of my members-only gym (home of the man ass) I'm expected to put a lock on my locker. (And for good reason - my dad recently had the credit cards stolen out of his wallet in his gym) This implies, doesn't it, that we're dealing with thieves who have gym memberships. That the guy next to you could be a thief. That you, conceivably, could be a thief. When I take a towel at the gym, I have to leave my membership card with the towel guy. So I can't steal the towel. Every day we go through this transaction - I hand him the card, he hands me the towel. The unspoken message: "Aha, towel thief! I have your card. Let's see you try to steal this one!"
I don't blame the gym for doing this. They've probably had towels stolen in the past. But the thief did more than just steal a towel, he eroded the trust level to the point where me and the towel guy have to go through this daily ritual. That's the legacy of the theft.
The other day I was playing poker at Binions, center of the poker universe. A fine card room. I had noticed my chair was a little wobbly, but it didn't bother me so I ignored it. About an hour into my session, I stood up to stretch. When I sat back down, the chair collapsed under me like it was oragami. I tumbled over backwards, sending two drinks flying as I flailed my arms, and ended up laying comically splayed on the floor. Not my finest moment.
Within seconds, three poker room personnel were at my side, helping me up and asking me if I was okay. I was fine. A little embarassed, maybe. But unhurt. Someone snapped his fingers and a new chair was brought over. A guard came jogging to the scene, followed by the security manager. Did I want to go to the emergency room? No. Was I sure? Yes. Would I mind signing a statement declaring what happened? Sure, I guess. An engineer arrived, and he and the manager started examining the busted chair to see why it had broke. The manager called surveillance to flag the tape. The guard presented me with a form to sign. My driver's license was taken away to be photocopied.
As I started writing the statement, other players came up to me to offer some quick advice. I heard things like "Son, if I were you I wouldn't sign shit." "If you want to talk a lawyer, you might be looking at anything from 5 to 50 grand." "You heard about that one woman at the Orleans? She slipped in the bathroom, now she's got a room for life."
I brushed these guys off, finished writing the form (which had questions along the line of who did I blame for the accident, how much personal property was damaged, etc) and eventually life went back to normal.
The whole incident was kinda funny, but also kind of sad. The casino was clearly terrified of little accidents like this. They had a whole procedure ready for someone falling out of his chair. The other players were like jackals - licking their chops, wishing it them that had the good luck to be in the busted chair. Some bystanders were wondering aloud if I should at least be offered a dinner. I had to explain patiently to many of them that I wasn't interested in seeking legal redress. Because, simply, I wasn't hurt. To sue them would be nothing but extortion. To ask for favors would just be greedy.
I don't know. Wouldn't it be nice if people weren't presumed to be thieves? Wouldn't it be nice if people didn't just presume I'd be eager to extort money from a business simply because I fell out of a chair? Let's leave those newspaper machines alone people. Those little boxy machines are the only things left in society that don't assume you're a greedy, thieving worm. Have some respect.
Thursday, September 30, 2004
Dangerous Shit
One little extra note about the library porn patrol. There are also plenty of people gambling online and playing video games too. While I'm not so instantly disgusted at that as I am at the porn, it still (in my opinion) should not be allowed because it's disrespectful to the institution. I don't know, maybe it's just me.
Anyways, today I need to tell you all about some dangerous shit. That is, people who go out and engage in these patently dangerous activities, without any regard for their own life and limb.
As a preface, I should state that my number one goal in life is to not die. Pretty much the same as my goal in, say, Tetris. Equally futile too, I know, but still - it's a good mantra to have when you leave the house in the morning. You inhale that first breath of outdoor air, you exhale, you smile, and you say to yourself "My goal today is to not die!" If you keep this goal in mind, then chances are you'll make smart choices. When you approach a curb, you don't step into traffic. When you go to the bathroom, you wash your hands. When you're at a society ball and a waiter offers you an hors d'eurve plate of cocktail wieners, you don't take the weird looking one. This, I believe, is part of the "don't die" instinct we all possess.
So occasionally I am confounded by blatantly dangerous behavior. Case in point:
Helicopters
You will never catch my ass on a helicopter, I'll tell you that. How many times have you opened the paper to see "Fannie Mae executive among dead in downed copter." "Deloitte-Touche COO killed in helicopter accident" "Entire board of Disney wiped out in fiery copter death trap."
Basically, if you're an executive, stay the hell away from helicopters. But it's not just our captains of industry. How about during the Afghan and Iraq wars... "US forces advance on Kabul, 9 Marines dead in copter crash." "Basra taken without a shot, 17 special forces dead in crashed Apache" Was I the only one who noticed that pretty much all our casualties for a while there were coming from copter crashes? And these weren't copters in action, they were just transporting troops.
One of the most respected, brutal, hard-hitting movies made recently about our modern military - Black Hawk Down, is all about, well, Black Hawks that went down. Apparently I'm the only one drawing the lesson here: do not get on a helicopter.
Now, I went looking for some actual statistics to back me up on this, but I came up empty. The army keeps this stuff pretty close to its vest, and civilian helicopter enthusiasts aren't exactly eager to report on fatalities. They don't exactly splash it across the front page of their websites.
Climbing Mountains
You've read this story 50 times I'm sure. An Everest climbing expedition comes back, triumphant, announcing they reached the summit on schedule; and they only lost 2 Shirpas, 1 donkey, and 8 cumulative team toes and only 6 fingers! Yes! Oh, and one guy is going to have to lose his nose. Well, he was a mouth breather anyway! Am I right!
They're big heroes because they conquered Everest, but hmm. I'm sitting here in my living room thinking "I don't have blackened, frozen dead toes still clinging to feet I can't feel." According to my calculations, they're the heroes for climbing Everest but I'M THE ONE WHO HAS ALL HIS FUCKING TOES. You know, on second though, I'm thinking that I'm the hero. I'm the guy who decided to watch TV instead of tackling Mt. Everest. That was a smart choice.
I started thinking about this because I was watching Dateline (believe me, nothing else was on) and Tom Brokaw was interviewing a one armed man who survived an unbelievable ordeal trapped in a canyon in Utah.
He had gone "canyoning" (there's your first mistake) and had accidentally dislodged a big boulder. The boulder pinned him down to the ground, crushing his right arm. No one knew where he was, and for days he lay there in pain, unable to move the boulder. He had no food or water. He was going to die. Facing death, he did what he had to do. Using his Swiss Army knife, he amputated his own arm. Unable to sever his own bones with just a Swiss Army blade, he was forced to twist his partially amputated arm over the boulder again and again until the bones snapped. Trailing his bleeding stump, he hiked for miles until he found some other hikers and collapsed in front of them.
Now I'm sure your seasoned climbers and hikers and canyoners would mount an impassioned defense of their hobby. It's about nature. It's about communing with the wilderness. It's about finding one's self. It's about pushing yourself to your limits to see what you're made of. It's about teamwork and friendship and absolute trust.
Nope. It's about CUTTING OFF YOUR OWN ARM. I regard climbing a difficult mountain as being an activity where, best case scenario, it's just a huge pain in the ass. And there's nothing waiting for you at the top except a pain in the ass trip down.
The other day at the gym, I saw a middle aged man who was working out at the nautilus, and one of his legs was just a titanium rod. It had a prosthetic foot on the end with a sneaker on it, and the guy could walk around pretty easily. But he only had one leg. Now I don't know how he lost the leg, I didn't ask. But I'm guessing that whatever it was, he decided to leave the house that day and do some crazy shit, while I carefully limited myself to a "home" or "Starbucks" or "Dennys" environment. You can't be too careful.
Anyways, today I need to tell you all about some dangerous shit. That is, people who go out and engage in these patently dangerous activities, without any regard for their own life and limb.
As a preface, I should state that my number one goal in life is to not die. Pretty much the same as my goal in, say, Tetris. Equally futile too, I know, but still - it's a good mantra to have when you leave the house in the morning. You inhale that first breath of outdoor air, you exhale, you smile, and you say to yourself "My goal today is to not die!" If you keep this goal in mind, then chances are you'll make smart choices. When you approach a curb, you don't step into traffic. When you go to the bathroom, you wash your hands. When you're at a society ball and a waiter offers you an hors d'eurve plate of cocktail wieners, you don't take the weird looking one. This, I believe, is part of the "don't die" instinct we all possess.
So occasionally I am confounded by blatantly dangerous behavior. Case in point:
Helicopters
You will never catch my ass on a helicopter, I'll tell you that. How many times have you opened the paper to see "Fannie Mae executive among dead in downed copter." "Deloitte-Touche COO killed in helicopter accident" "Entire board of Disney wiped out in fiery copter death trap."
Basically, if you're an executive, stay the hell away from helicopters. But it's not just our captains of industry. How about during the Afghan and Iraq wars... "US forces advance on Kabul, 9 Marines dead in copter crash." "Basra taken without a shot, 17 special forces dead in crashed Apache" Was I the only one who noticed that pretty much all our casualties for a while there were coming from copter crashes? And these weren't copters in action, they were just transporting troops.
One of the most respected, brutal, hard-hitting movies made recently about our modern military - Black Hawk Down, is all about, well, Black Hawks that went down. Apparently I'm the only one drawing the lesson here: do not get on a helicopter.
Now, I went looking for some actual statistics to back me up on this, but I came up empty. The army keeps this stuff pretty close to its vest, and civilian helicopter enthusiasts aren't exactly eager to report on fatalities. They don't exactly splash it across the front page of their websites.
Climbing Mountains
You've read this story 50 times I'm sure. An Everest climbing expedition comes back, triumphant, announcing they reached the summit on schedule; and they only lost 2 Shirpas, 1 donkey, and 8 cumulative team toes and only 6 fingers! Yes! Oh, and one guy is going to have to lose his nose. Well, he was a mouth breather anyway! Am I right!
They're big heroes because they conquered Everest, but hmm. I'm sitting here in my living room thinking "I don't have blackened, frozen dead toes still clinging to feet I can't feel." According to my calculations, they're the heroes for climbing Everest but I'M THE ONE WHO HAS ALL HIS FUCKING TOES. You know, on second though, I'm thinking that I'm the hero. I'm the guy who decided to watch TV instead of tackling Mt. Everest. That was a smart choice.
I started thinking about this because I was watching Dateline (believe me, nothing else was on) and Tom Brokaw was interviewing a one armed man who survived an unbelievable ordeal trapped in a canyon in Utah.
He had gone "canyoning" (there's your first mistake) and had accidentally dislodged a big boulder. The boulder pinned him down to the ground, crushing his right arm. No one knew where he was, and for days he lay there in pain, unable to move the boulder. He had no food or water. He was going to die. Facing death, he did what he had to do. Using his Swiss Army knife, he amputated his own arm. Unable to sever his own bones with just a Swiss Army blade, he was forced to twist his partially amputated arm over the boulder again and again until the bones snapped. Trailing his bleeding stump, he hiked for miles until he found some other hikers and collapsed in front of them.
Now I'm sure your seasoned climbers and hikers and canyoners would mount an impassioned defense of their hobby. It's about nature. It's about communing with the wilderness. It's about finding one's self. It's about pushing yourself to your limits to see what you're made of. It's about teamwork and friendship and absolute trust.
Nope. It's about CUTTING OFF YOUR OWN ARM. I regard climbing a difficult mountain as being an activity where, best case scenario, it's just a huge pain in the ass. And there's nothing waiting for you at the top except a pain in the ass trip down.
The other day at the gym, I saw a middle aged man who was working out at the nautilus, and one of his legs was just a titanium rod. It had a prosthetic foot on the end with a sneaker on it, and the guy could walk around pretty easily. But he only had one leg. Now I don't know how he lost the leg, I didn't ask. But I'm guessing that whatever it was, he decided to leave the house that day and do some crazy shit, while I carefully limited myself to a "home" or "Starbucks" or "Dennys" environment. You can't be too careful.
Tuesday, September 28, 2004
The First Amendment
Normally, I'm a major First Amendment cheerleader. You want to burn a flag? Fine. You want to hold a KKK rally? What time. You want a show a blasphemous picture of the virgin Mary? Bring on the feces.
Big, big first amendment supporter. Love it. One of your best amendments.
Until yesterday.
Yesterday was when I was sitting at a computer workstation in the university library, doing my stats homework, when a middle-aged, bald dude, clearly not affiliated with the university in any way but just a member of the general unwashed public - sits down next to me and proceeds to download and watch internet porn.
I did a big-ol double take. Huh? Is this guy really watching pornographic videos in full view of dozens of people in a university library? Why?
Now let there be no confusion: this was not some student doing "porn research" for a class on human sexuality, this was a random dude off the street watching porn in the library and practically drooling on the keyboard.
I wasn't offended, per se. I was just seriously creeped and grossed out. Not by the video, I want to stress (for the purposes of my eventual argument), but by this guy. This guy was enjoying what really should have been a private moment not two feet from my person. He was getting sexually aroused by porn in my personal space.
So I went down to security and meekly asked if what this guy was doing was OK. I kind of knew the answer would be yes, since I had read something previously about porn being okayed in libraries. So yes, this guy wasn't breaking any rules. I just had to deal with it. Well, I dealt with it by moving to the other side of the room.
Folks, something is seriously wrong here. I'm not Mr. Morality Police, I'm not Mr. Prude, but I am Mr. Guy who doesn't need to see a video of someone being fellated two feet away while trying to do homework in a university library. That is just wrong!
I am no first amendment legal expert, but for God's sakes, doesn't the same logic that prevents me from walking down the street naked or having sex in public apply to this situation? If I can't actually BE publically fellated in the library, why can someone display a video of the exact same thing?
Now, I am not proposing to start slapping censorship all over society, or even the library. If someone wants to use a public library to watch porn, I don't object in the abstract. But what about my right as someone who is rightly disgusted at watching another man's shameful act of public arousal to not have to watch it?
Though I didn't confront the guy, I seriously did want to loudly shame him. I wanted to strike up a conversation in a loud street voice (that would be booming in the quiet library) and ask him if he had any shame at all. I would want to draw everyone's attention to his behavior.
Here's my modest proposal. If people want to watch porn in the library, citing their first amendment rights, fine. Watch porn. But the library should designate a secluded spot for the viewing of explicit materials. There should be a row of workstations in the corner, fully sequestered, that could be used for this purpose. If that limited supply of workstations for some reason doesn't satisfy the demand, then okay, add more. But limit the viewing of explicit material to these stations, out of the view of passersby.
That certainly should satisfy the first amendment sticklers (of which I am one) while also accomodating the needs of people who don't need to see other men stoke their own masturbatory arousal (of which I am also one). See, we're both happy.
If anyone disagrees with me, by all means, make the pervert's case. I'd love to hear what it is. But also be sure to tell me why I can't be naked in the library, and how that's consistent with your position.
Big, big first amendment supporter. Love it. One of your best amendments.
Until yesterday.
Yesterday was when I was sitting at a computer workstation in the university library, doing my stats homework, when a middle-aged, bald dude, clearly not affiliated with the university in any way but just a member of the general unwashed public - sits down next to me and proceeds to download and watch internet porn.
I did a big-ol double take. Huh? Is this guy really watching pornographic videos in full view of dozens of people in a university library? Why?
Now let there be no confusion: this was not some student doing "porn research" for a class on human sexuality, this was a random dude off the street watching porn in the library and practically drooling on the keyboard.
I wasn't offended, per se. I was just seriously creeped and grossed out. Not by the video, I want to stress (for the purposes of my eventual argument), but by this guy. This guy was enjoying what really should have been a private moment not two feet from my person. He was getting sexually aroused by porn in my personal space.
So I went down to security and meekly asked if what this guy was doing was OK. I kind of knew the answer would be yes, since I had read something previously about porn being okayed in libraries. So yes, this guy wasn't breaking any rules. I just had to deal with it. Well, I dealt with it by moving to the other side of the room.
Folks, something is seriously wrong here. I'm not Mr. Morality Police, I'm not Mr. Prude, but I am Mr. Guy who doesn't need to see a video of someone being fellated two feet away while trying to do homework in a university library. That is just wrong!
I am no first amendment legal expert, but for God's sakes, doesn't the same logic that prevents me from walking down the street naked or having sex in public apply to this situation? If I can't actually BE publically fellated in the library, why can someone display a video of the exact same thing?
Now, I am not proposing to start slapping censorship all over society, or even the library. If someone wants to use a public library to watch porn, I don't object in the abstract. But what about my right as someone who is rightly disgusted at watching another man's shameful act of public arousal to not have to watch it?
Though I didn't confront the guy, I seriously did want to loudly shame him. I wanted to strike up a conversation in a loud street voice (that would be booming in the quiet library) and ask him if he had any shame at all. I would want to draw everyone's attention to his behavior.
Here's my modest proposal. If people want to watch porn in the library, citing their first amendment rights, fine. Watch porn. But the library should designate a secluded spot for the viewing of explicit materials. There should be a row of workstations in the corner, fully sequestered, that could be used for this purpose. If that limited supply of workstations for some reason doesn't satisfy the demand, then okay, add more. But limit the viewing of explicit material to these stations, out of the view of passersby.
That certainly should satisfy the first amendment sticklers (of which I am one) while also accomodating the needs of people who don't need to see other men stoke their own masturbatory arousal (of which I am also one). See, we're both happy.
If anyone disagrees with me, by all means, make the pervert's case. I'd love to hear what it is. But also be sure to tell me why I can't be naked in the library, and how that's consistent with your position.
Saturday, September 25, 2004
Miss America
Every year when this rolls around, I think “Wow, this thing really does still exist.” I mean, let’s face it, this peculiar pageant has ceased having any meaning. Or rather, the qualities used to judge women in the Miss America Pageant have ceased to bear any relationship to qualities we would actually use to judge a human being in a meaningful way.
I know that’s not an original observation, and I know that some people enjoy the Miss America Pageant deliberately as parody, but I am just so stunned that anyone can still take it seriously.
I mean, what effect is this pageant having on impressionable young girls who look to Miss America as a real ideal? What qualities does Miss America teach are important to have? Poise, attractiveness in evening wear and swimsuit, a winning smile, a “talent” (either singing an aria or doing that dance routine with the flying streamers) and having a “cause” (something truly vanilla like literacy, conservation or abstinence).
That’s it. That’s what we prize most in a young woman. And of course, automatic disqualifications include having had children, an abortion, a divorce, (how about a boyfriend? Are boyfriends okay?)
And of course, Miss America is just the most visible side of the ugly and scary beauty pageant culture. I’m not just talking about psycho moms and Jon Benet here, I’m talking about indoctrinating young girls into this perverse mindset where attractiveness is a zero-sum game with winners and losers and that presenting an attractive outer shell is the only goal worth achieving.
Somewhere, in some MIT lab, a 22 year old female biologist is pioneering some new research that may actually save some lives. She’s been tutoring disadvantaged kids in her neighborhood for ten years, she writes poetry for a local journal, she’s honest, kind, and has an army of friends to attest to her character. There’s your Miss America, people. She doesn’t tape her breasts and put Vaseline on her teeth. She may not look particularly stunning in a ball gown, she can’t sing Ave Maria, and she won’t deliver a prepared monologue in a Louisiana twang about how sex should be saved for marriage.
The Miss America Pageant needs to either close up shop, or do a complete overhaul where they replace the current system with one that can identify people you’d actually admire. People should qualify by being nominated anonymously by their friends. Currently, qualifying for Miss America probably means you’ve survived and vanquished all your beauty foes at the local and state level. You’re already a cut-throat, pageant-savvy veteran with years of competition experience. When Regis asks these girls what their talent is, shouldn’t the correct answer be “Well, my entire life revolves around the pageant circuit. I guess my talent is winning beauty contests.”
I know that’s not an original observation, and I know that some people enjoy the Miss America Pageant deliberately as parody, but I am just so stunned that anyone can still take it seriously.
I mean, what effect is this pageant having on impressionable young girls who look to Miss America as a real ideal? What qualities does Miss America teach are important to have? Poise, attractiveness in evening wear and swimsuit, a winning smile, a “talent” (either singing an aria or doing that dance routine with the flying streamers) and having a “cause” (something truly vanilla like literacy, conservation or abstinence).
That’s it. That’s what we prize most in a young woman. And of course, automatic disqualifications include having had children, an abortion, a divorce, (how about a boyfriend? Are boyfriends okay?)
And of course, Miss America is just the most visible side of the ugly and scary beauty pageant culture. I’m not just talking about psycho moms and Jon Benet here, I’m talking about indoctrinating young girls into this perverse mindset where attractiveness is a zero-sum game with winners and losers and that presenting an attractive outer shell is the only goal worth achieving.
Somewhere, in some MIT lab, a 22 year old female biologist is pioneering some new research that may actually save some lives. She’s been tutoring disadvantaged kids in her neighborhood for ten years, she writes poetry for a local journal, she’s honest, kind, and has an army of friends to attest to her character. There’s your Miss America, people. She doesn’t tape her breasts and put Vaseline on her teeth. She may not look particularly stunning in a ball gown, she can’t sing Ave Maria, and she won’t deliver a prepared monologue in a Louisiana twang about how sex should be saved for marriage.
The Miss America Pageant needs to either close up shop, or do a complete overhaul where they replace the current system with one that can identify people you’d actually admire. People should qualify by being nominated anonymously by their friends. Currently, qualifying for Miss America probably means you’ve survived and vanquished all your beauty foes at the local and state level. You’re already a cut-throat, pageant-savvy veteran with years of competition experience. When Regis asks these girls what their talent is, shouldn’t the correct answer be “Well, my entire life revolves around the pageant circuit. I guess my talent is winning beauty contests.”
Thursday, September 23, 2004
Sequels
Teen Wolf Too
The Search for Curly's Gold
The Whole Ten Yards
Look Who's Talking Too!
The Friday After Next
K-911
Analyze That
Three Men and a Little Lady
Batman and Robin
The Color of Money
I Still Know What you Did Last Summer
102 Dalmations
Crocodile Dundee in Los Angeles
3 Ninjas Kick Back
Another Stakeout
Beethoven's 2nd
Return to Oz
The Two Jakes
Honey I blew up the Kid!
Beverly Hills Cop 3
Caddyshack 2
Grease 2
The Santa Clause 2
Rocky 5
Now what do you people think of putting the subtitle before or after the name of the movie? Here are a few examples of each style.
Jaws 4: The Revenge
Friday the 13th 4: The Final Chapter
The Land Before Time VII: The Stone of Cold Fire
Superbabies: Baby Geniuses 2
Braddock: Missing in Action 3
Aces: Iron Eagle 3
Here's a little game. Name the bad sequel from its subtitle! (I'll order them in increasing difficulty)
Cruise Control
Back in the Habit
Monsters Unleashed
Lost in New York
Season of the Witch
Back to the Minors
Golden Receiver
The Quest for Peace
The Year we Make Contact
The Quickening
Citizens on Patrol
Beyond Cyberspace
The Heretic
Make Room for Daddy
On the Move
The Road Back
Blood Wings
And finally, a special shout out to the Pokemon movie franchise, whose titling method is so completely inconsistent, it deserves some kind of award.
Pokemon: The First Movie
Pokemon: The Movie 2000
Pokemon 3 the Movie: Spell of the Unknown
Pokemon 4Ever
Pokemon Heroes
Note the mid-franchise abandoning of the colon. That's amazing! Most franchises start out colonless and then add colons. Equally impressive are four consecutive, completely different uses of numbers - spelled out, denoting a year, indicating a sequel, and as a pun.
My favorite is Pokemon 3 the Movie: Spell of the Unknown. Meaning, I think, that there are dozens and dozens of "Pokemon 3" products that I might confuse this title with. This is Pokemon 3 the movie. And then even within the niche of Pokemon 3 the Movie, there are plenty of stories. This one is the Spell of the Unknown.
Pikachu! I choose you!
The Search for Curly's Gold
The Whole Ten Yards
Look Who's Talking Too!
The Friday After Next
K-911
Analyze That
Three Men and a Little Lady
Batman and Robin
The Color of Money
I Still Know What you Did Last Summer
102 Dalmations
Crocodile Dundee in Los Angeles
3 Ninjas Kick Back
Another Stakeout
Beethoven's 2nd
Return to Oz
The Two Jakes
Honey I blew up the Kid!
Beverly Hills Cop 3
Caddyshack 2
Grease 2
The Santa Clause 2
Rocky 5
Now what do you people think of putting the subtitle before or after the name of the movie? Here are a few examples of each style.
Jaws 4: The Revenge
Friday the 13th 4: The Final Chapter
The Land Before Time VII: The Stone of Cold Fire
Superbabies: Baby Geniuses 2
Braddock: Missing in Action 3
Aces: Iron Eagle 3
Here's a little game. Name the bad sequel from its subtitle! (I'll order them in increasing difficulty)
Cruise Control
Back in the Habit
Monsters Unleashed
Lost in New York
Season of the Witch
Back to the Minors
Golden Receiver
The Quest for Peace
The Year we Make Contact
The Quickening
Citizens on Patrol
Beyond Cyberspace
The Heretic
Make Room for Daddy
On the Move
The Road Back
Blood Wings
And finally, a special shout out to the Pokemon movie franchise, whose titling method is so completely inconsistent, it deserves some kind of award.
Pokemon: The First Movie
Pokemon: The Movie 2000
Pokemon 3 the Movie: Spell of the Unknown
Pokemon 4Ever
Pokemon Heroes
Note the mid-franchise abandoning of the colon. That's amazing! Most franchises start out colonless and then add colons. Equally impressive are four consecutive, completely different uses of numbers - spelled out, denoting a year, indicating a sequel, and as a pun.
My favorite is Pokemon 3 the Movie: Spell of the Unknown. Meaning, I think, that there are dozens and dozens of "Pokemon 3" products that I might confuse this title with. This is Pokemon 3 the movie. And then even within the niche of Pokemon 3 the Movie, there are plenty of stories. This one is the Spell of the Unknown.
Pikachu! I choose you!
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