Going to see a game on Friday at Minute Maid. It is the first series of the year against the Cubs, so it should be a pretty exciting game. Especially since the Rocket is pitching versus Greg Maddux. I read online that it is the first time two 300 game winners have faced each other since 1987. That seemed hard to believe, but okay. I'm a little ticked that the Astros can't win on the road, but we'll see what happens. If last season taught us anything it's that we're not out until it's over. But do we really want to wait that long? Let's Get It Started!
Okay, no more bad sports clichés. I was wondering how many Astros fans we have out there. Raise your hand....Great. Now, I want to know, how many old Astros slogans can you remember? The only one that comes to my mind right now is "Astros baseball. Star Power!" I need some more. Come on, give as many as you can think of. They're all pretty cheesy, but I think that's what makes them so great.
Wednesday, April 27, 2005
Monday, April 25, 2005
Who would play me?
A guy I know was playing this game on his blog and now I have to play this, even though I also want everyone to read my thoughts on Kung Fu Hustle. Who would play me in the movie of my life? I'm thinking possibly Andy Richter. Of course he's older than me but there aren't any chunky famous people in their twenties. It's like a rule that you have to almost be 40 before you can be a famous chunky dude. Which only means that I need to loose weight. If I loose weight then I'd like it to be.... You know what? Screw that, I'm an actor. I'm playing myself.
Kung Fu Hustle with Spoilers!
This weekend I saw Kung Fu Hustle By Stephen Chow. I was really wanting to see this. Somehow I was able to get Amanda to see it with me. She didn't really want to see, although I was pretty convinced that one she saw it she would like it. I was was half right. She liked it, but not like I thought she would.
But that's not what this entry is about. This is an entry to try and materialize my thoughts on this film. It's got me thinking something vicious. FIrst of all, fans of the Crouching Tiger... and House of Flying Daggers genre of flying ninjas and super cool effects, be warned. This movie has all flying, mystical fighting stuff, but it's almost poking fun of it, in a way. First of all you have three Kung Fu masters. One is your typical buffed up Chinese guy with a headband. The other is a baker who is about middle age, the third is a tailor. The tailor makes for the funniest element of the film. The tailor in Kung Fu Hustle is not only gifted in the arts of fighting with his steal rings that make him inceceptable to metallic objects being thrown at him, but he is a flaming homo. After he has just dispensed of the bad guys in one of the first plot driving fight scenes, the infamous Landlady, smirks at the tailor, "Once a fairy, always a fairly" at which the tailor gets teary eyed and pranses off.
FIrst of all, this is not a review. I don't review movies, I just talk about them. So here's what I want to talk about.
The movie did a wonderful job and will do a wonderful job of dispelling stereotypes of Asian filmaking, as well as it's people. As a culture, I've always understood that Asians were without much emotion, stoic, and businesslike. The Kung Fu films that I would watch as a kid on Saturday mornings always depicted a very serious hero and lots of serious bad guys. Kung Fu Hustle blows this stereotype to smitherens by making fun of that attitude with characters like the tailor, among others.
Other examples of this is the opening sequence where, after dispensing of a rival, the primary antagonist, Brother Sum of the Axe Gang, leads his minions in a line dance that seems to mix 70s disco moves with Rat Pack cool. Then there is the Landlady whom I mentioned earlier. When she turns out to be a master herself, along with her womanizing husband, you aren't entirely surprised (after all, how else did she run so fast) but it is pretty amazing to learn that she and her husband renounced doing Kung Fu ever again in the intrest of peace.
Which brings me to my next comment about the movie. As slapsticky and cartoonishly violent as it was (It was also pretty violent in a traditionally violent way, a topic I could write a book on) KFH was deeply rooted in a message of peace and tranquility. The protagonist is a loser who goes around with his buddy, a big dopey sidekick, too out of shape to be a wirey, quick Kung Fu master himself, and still too small to be a strong man. These two set out on a daily basis to find a way into the Axe Gang. Earlier in life the protagonist was told that he would someday be a great Kung Fu genious, but later realizes that he was being lied to. He decides that the best way to live is bad. He decides that he is going to get what he wants by stealling and killing instead of helping. Unfortunately for him, his true calling betrays these wishes, as he has never been able to really commit to a life of derilecy. When he is practically beaten to a pulp by the most evil Kung Fu killer of all, everyone wonders why he hasn't died. Well, to make a long story short, he emerges from his bandages in a scene of beautiful symbolism (or degradingly hitting you over the head, depending on your cynicism) as a butterfly is emerging from a cocoon. He returns to fight and defend the villiage against the evil Kung Fu killer and the Axe Gang and in an impressive, however CGIed to death, fight sequence, he is able to channel Buddas most powerful gifts and defeat this extremely powerful enemy. This movie, if it didn't have any other message was that God has given us extraordinary gifts and we must use them, even when it seems as thought the world is only going to bury us because of them.
I sometimes wonder why there aren't more practicing Buddists. It seems like a fine religion, deeply rooted in peace, with the goal of achieving enlightenment, and is light on the judgement for people who don't reach it. If I understand correctly one is only punished if he is truely evil in life: killers, rapists, etc. It would seem that if all else were equal, Christianity wouldn't fair as well against Buddism because of the tendency for Christians to be judgemental and exclusive. Buddists don't seem like this at all. Of course I don't know much about Buddism, so I can't really talk.
But that's not what this entry is about. This is an entry to try and materialize my thoughts on this film. It's got me thinking something vicious. FIrst of all, fans of the Crouching Tiger... and House of Flying Daggers genre of flying ninjas and super cool effects, be warned. This movie has all flying, mystical fighting stuff, but it's almost poking fun of it, in a way. First of all you have three Kung Fu masters. One is your typical buffed up Chinese guy with a headband. The other is a baker who is about middle age, the third is a tailor. The tailor makes for the funniest element of the film. The tailor in Kung Fu Hustle is not only gifted in the arts of fighting with his steal rings that make him inceceptable to metallic objects being thrown at him, but he is a flaming homo. After he has just dispensed of the bad guys in one of the first plot driving fight scenes, the infamous Landlady, smirks at the tailor, "Once a fairy, always a fairly" at which the tailor gets teary eyed and pranses off.
FIrst of all, this is not a review. I don't review movies, I just talk about them. So here's what I want to talk about.
The movie did a wonderful job and will do a wonderful job of dispelling stereotypes of Asian filmaking, as well as it's people. As a culture, I've always understood that Asians were without much emotion, stoic, and businesslike. The Kung Fu films that I would watch as a kid on Saturday mornings always depicted a very serious hero and lots of serious bad guys. Kung Fu Hustle blows this stereotype to smitherens by making fun of that attitude with characters like the tailor, among others.
Other examples of this is the opening sequence where, after dispensing of a rival, the primary antagonist, Brother Sum of the Axe Gang, leads his minions in a line dance that seems to mix 70s disco moves with Rat Pack cool. Then there is the Landlady whom I mentioned earlier. When she turns out to be a master herself, along with her womanizing husband, you aren't entirely surprised (after all, how else did she run so fast) but it is pretty amazing to learn that she and her husband renounced doing Kung Fu ever again in the intrest of peace.
Which brings me to my next comment about the movie. As slapsticky and cartoonishly violent as it was (It was also pretty violent in a traditionally violent way, a topic I could write a book on) KFH was deeply rooted in a message of peace and tranquility. The protagonist is a loser who goes around with his buddy, a big dopey sidekick, too out of shape to be a wirey, quick Kung Fu master himself, and still too small to be a strong man. These two set out on a daily basis to find a way into the Axe Gang. Earlier in life the protagonist was told that he would someday be a great Kung Fu genious, but later realizes that he was being lied to. He decides that the best way to live is bad. He decides that he is going to get what he wants by stealling and killing instead of helping. Unfortunately for him, his true calling betrays these wishes, as he has never been able to really commit to a life of derilecy. When he is practically beaten to a pulp by the most evil Kung Fu killer of all, everyone wonders why he hasn't died. Well, to make a long story short, he emerges from his bandages in a scene of beautiful symbolism (or degradingly hitting you over the head, depending on your cynicism) as a butterfly is emerging from a cocoon. He returns to fight and defend the villiage against the evil Kung Fu killer and the Axe Gang and in an impressive, however CGIed to death, fight sequence, he is able to channel Buddas most powerful gifts and defeat this extremely powerful enemy. This movie, if it didn't have any other message was that God has given us extraordinary gifts and we must use them, even when it seems as thought the world is only going to bury us because of them.
I sometimes wonder why there aren't more practicing Buddists. It seems like a fine religion, deeply rooted in peace, with the goal of achieving enlightenment, and is light on the judgement for people who don't reach it. If I understand correctly one is only punished if he is truely evil in life: killers, rapists, etc. It would seem that if all else were equal, Christianity wouldn't fair as well against Buddism because of the tendency for Christians to be judgemental and exclusive. Buddists don't seem like this at all. Of course I don't know much about Buddism, so I can't really talk.
Friday, April 22, 2005
Christian T-shirts
I would like to invite everyone to check out Dan Carlson's Blog He's a really good writer, funny and usually bitter about something. This week it's right wing Christian t-shirts. Now if you read my blog and are right wing yourself, please, if you have a brain, take a look at some of these and don't tell me that some of these aren't just plain wrong. This one actually offended me, and that's hard to do.
Also, check out the testemonials of people who have bought shirts. I expected, "I wore my "You're going to Hell" t-shirt to the mall yesterday and had to perform three baptisms in the food court because so many people were convinced." But not one person mentioned the t-shirt doing any good except making them feel superior to everyone else. I'm sure that the more touchy ones aren't their best sellers. I, of course, don't have a problem with someone wearing a "Jesus loves me" t-shirt, or something like that. But come on! This will really get the converts converting.
Also, check out the testemonials of people who have bought shirts. I expected, "I wore my "You're going to Hell" t-shirt to the mall yesterday and had to perform three baptisms in the food court because so many people were convinced." But not one person mentioned the t-shirt doing any good except making them feel superior to everyone else. I'm sure that the more touchy ones aren't their best sellers. I, of course, don't have a problem with someone wearing a "Jesus loves me" t-shirt, or something like that. But come on! This will really get the converts converting.
Tuesday, April 19, 2005
Monday, April 18, 2005
Ch-ch-ch-ch-changes
By the way. I changed my template because I saw too many other people with the one I had. Plus this one had a section already made for linking to other people's blogs. I know that I could have done that anywhere, but I'm not very web savy.
But you know how when you buy a car and you think it is the coolest because there are none others like it. But then you realize that there are about one hundred just like within a square mile radius, you just never noticed before. Yeah, I'm sure that will happen.
But you know how when you buy a car and you think it is the coolest because there are none others like it. But then you realize that there are about one hundred just like within a square mile radius, you just never noticed before. Yeah, I'm sure that will happen.
Postin' the Mostin'
I have about two months here and there when I obsess over something. I don't have an adictive personality, so I've never really been one to commit to any one vice for the long haul, but I will obsess over one or two things for a period. About a month ago I would spend hours on my computer working on Garage Band this cool software for recording music. My wife literally would drag me to bed. I'm talking about staying up till 4 or 5 in the morning when I've got to be at work the next morning at 7. Then I tell myself I won't do it again, but then I do. Well, I'm over that. I still mess with Garage Band, but in responsible amounts.
Now I am getting a little obsessed with blogging. Yes, this thing that I am doing right now. And you say, "but Kyle, you don't even write that much. What are talking about?"
The reasons why I don't I don't write on my blog more often are these:
1. I feel like I need to have something profound to say in order to post everyday. While, if I don't have anything particularly interesting to say one day, I may post anyway because it's been a few days, I feel that to post everyday would be obnoxious and overlooked by all who don't check everyday
2. Other people don't post everyday and so I would feel like a loser if I'm the only one. I go to other's sites and make comments or prepare myself for what witty nugget will be served up and nothing... For a few days at least, which when you check a couple times a day seems like a really long time.
I just hounded my friend Nathan into updating his blog (where he has boosted my ego quite a bit, I might say. Thanks, Nathan. We love you, too, even though you trashed my blog with Anne Coulter funk.) and my friend Ryan English just got married but has been blogging from the Jolly Old. But he hasn't written since he got back! What the crap?
Like I said I'm obsessing a little. But, it's okay, I'll be done with it soon, then it will be a struggle just to get the post in. I'm hoping not, but the past proves different. That's why I like theatre. A couple months here, a couple months there. The set is torn down at the end. No commitment past closing night. It's great. Amanda and I have been considering moving to a different place this year. It's already the only place I've lived consistantly for two years since I was in high school. If I stay in his apartment another year then I'll have been here three years by the next time the lease is out. Scary.
5 Good things about the non-addictive personality:
1. Not interested in smoking, drugs, alcoholism
2. Flexible. Change is good
3. Keeps me on my toes.
4. Variety is the spice of life.
5. If you don't like something that I'm doing, I probably won't be doing for much longer.
5 Bad things about the non-addictive personality:
1. Don't like routine
2. Can't find socks, or damn near anything.
3. Unpredictable. People say you're a "loose canon."
4. It hurts to say goodbye. (for them, not me.)
5. The "just get over it" mentality is insensitive and callous. But really, I just don't understand pansy 12 step wusses.
Now I am getting a little obsessed with blogging. Yes, this thing that I am doing right now. And you say, "but Kyle, you don't even write that much. What are talking about?"
The reasons why I don't I don't write on my blog more often are these:
1. I feel like I need to have something profound to say in order to post everyday. While, if I don't have anything particularly interesting to say one day, I may post anyway because it's been a few days, I feel that to post everyday would be obnoxious and overlooked by all who don't check everyday
2. Other people don't post everyday and so I would feel like a loser if I'm the only one. I go to other's sites and make comments or prepare myself for what witty nugget will be served up and nothing... For a few days at least, which when you check a couple times a day seems like a really long time.
I just hounded my friend Nathan into updating his blog (where he has boosted my ego quite a bit, I might say. Thanks, Nathan. We love you, too, even though you trashed my blog with Anne Coulter funk.) and my friend Ryan English just got married but has been blogging from the Jolly Old. But he hasn't written since he got back! What the crap?
Like I said I'm obsessing a little. But, it's okay, I'll be done with it soon, then it will be a struggle just to get the post in. I'm hoping not, but the past proves different. That's why I like theatre. A couple months here, a couple months there. The set is torn down at the end. No commitment past closing night. It's great. Amanda and I have been considering moving to a different place this year. It's already the only place I've lived consistantly for two years since I was in high school. If I stay in his apartment another year then I'll have been here three years by the next time the lease is out. Scary.
5 Good things about the non-addictive personality:
1. Not interested in smoking, drugs, alcoholism
2. Flexible. Change is good
3. Keeps me on my toes.
4. Variety is the spice of life.
5. If you don't like something that I'm doing, I probably won't be doing for much longer.
5 Bad things about the non-addictive personality:
1. Don't like routine
2. Can't find socks, or damn near anything.
3. Unpredictable. People say you're a "loose canon."
4. It hurts to say goodbye. (for them, not me.)
5. The "just get over it" mentality is insensitive and callous. But really, I just don't understand pansy 12 step wusses.
Saturday, April 16, 2005
Last Night
Last night was the opening of the Mary Lou Burkett Texas Playwrights Festival. (It's hard to have a playwright's festival of any kind without a long title. I mean look at that thing. ^ It's huge. And there are many more just like it.)
My play The Sofa was performed and I have no idea how it went. If you saw the play last night or you have seen it or you are in it, don't take offense to this. I really enjoyed it. It is a bit of a high to see the word you wrote down becoming life. John Eubanks and Clay Ratcliff, both good friends of mine, were excellent together and each brought something extraordinary to the parts that had not pictured when I wrote the play. Someone asked me last night if it was hard to allow them to take "my baby" and do what they would. The answer is no. I know that some people have a problem with it, but it was exciting for me. I have come to realize as a director and an actor and now a playwright and simply as a human being that nothing will ever turn out the way you plan it to. In fact it is usually better. That is why theatre is collaborative. So that many heads can come together and add to the pot of creativity. I believe that art is better when egos are out the door and people can just add to the creativity without worrying if your idea wasn't as good as someone elses, and if it's not then saying, "Yeah, I like you're idea better." Last night Clay ad-libbed a line, completely changing the script and it totally affected the moment. Instead of a high tension, suspenseful moment the line (and to Clay's credit, the way it was delivered) became a hilarious, high tension, etc. moment. It was everything that I had written into the play, and more. I was really disappointed that I wasn't a part of the process earlier on so that I could pick up on more of that kind of stuff.
The reason that I say that I have no idea how it went was because, while I enjoyed it, I'm a little biased. I know what's going on. If it's completely confusing, I wouldn't know it because I get it, and that's all that matters. I would like to read an honest critique on this play from an outsider. Someone I don't know. People who I know are going to be too polite to me I'm afraid and this doesn't help me. I'm not saying that the people who said they liked it were lying, but they probably don't feel it's their place to give me a full critique as soon as the play's over. And they are right, I'm sure I would have been quite annoyed if someone would have approached me after it was all over and told me everything that was wrong with the play. I need to sit down with my dad who I know will give me some good, honest feedback if I ask him. He's not exactly an outside party, but if I ask I know he'll be honest. Amanda was disappointed that no one gushed after me lauding me as the next Arthur Miller and telling me I was a genious. This didn't bother me, as I understand that even geniouses may not get it exactly right the first time. What is a genious anyway, aside from the I.Q. score. I think they are someone who takes other people's advise and don't buy into thinking that they are the ultimate and foremost authority on a play just because they wrote it. That's arrogance.
My play The Sofa was performed and I have no idea how it went. If you saw the play last night or you have seen it or you are in it, don't take offense to this. I really enjoyed it. It is a bit of a high to see the word you wrote down becoming life. John Eubanks and Clay Ratcliff, both good friends of mine, were excellent together and each brought something extraordinary to the parts that had not pictured when I wrote the play. Someone asked me last night if it was hard to allow them to take "my baby" and do what they would. The answer is no. I know that some people have a problem with it, but it was exciting for me. I have come to realize as a director and an actor and now a playwright and simply as a human being that nothing will ever turn out the way you plan it to. In fact it is usually better. That is why theatre is collaborative. So that many heads can come together and add to the pot of creativity. I believe that art is better when egos are out the door and people can just add to the creativity without worrying if your idea wasn't as good as someone elses, and if it's not then saying, "Yeah, I like you're idea better." Last night Clay ad-libbed a line, completely changing the script and it totally affected the moment. Instead of a high tension, suspenseful moment the line (and to Clay's credit, the way it was delivered) became a hilarious, high tension, etc. moment. It was everything that I had written into the play, and more. I was really disappointed that I wasn't a part of the process earlier on so that I could pick up on more of that kind of stuff.
The reason that I say that I have no idea how it went was because, while I enjoyed it, I'm a little biased. I know what's going on. If it's completely confusing, I wouldn't know it because I get it, and that's all that matters. I would like to read an honest critique on this play from an outsider. Someone I don't know. People who I know are going to be too polite to me I'm afraid and this doesn't help me. I'm not saying that the people who said they liked it were lying, but they probably don't feel it's their place to give me a full critique as soon as the play's over. And they are right, I'm sure I would have been quite annoyed if someone would have approached me after it was all over and told me everything that was wrong with the play. I need to sit down with my dad who I know will give me some good, honest feedback if I ask him. He's not exactly an outside party, but if I ask I know he'll be honest. Amanda was disappointed that no one gushed after me lauding me as the next Arthur Miller and telling me I was a genious. This didn't bother me, as I understand that even geniouses may not get it exactly right the first time. What is a genious anyway, aside from the I.Q. score. I think they are someone who takes other people's advise and don't buy into thinking that they are the ultimate and foremost authority on a play just because they wrote it. That's arrogance.
Thursday, April 14, 2005
On the road leading out of the city, in the city with all the world in a uproar, in a nation caught somewhere between chaos and liberation, (erring one the side of chaos at this point)buried beneath pounds of grainy, smelly, dry, sandy pebbles, too heavy to give freedom, but too light to blanket the cold, lies a man asleep. The world could be crumbling around him, and in fact it would seem that it is, but this man does not stir. The sand, guided by the muse to settle on this man's legs in such a picturesque, gentle manner has half covered his body with a dense coat nearer to the earth and a thin layer covering the top of his legs.
Finally he stirs because of the shaking from a soldier. He is a soldier himself, a foreigner on hand to aid in the deconstruction of an era concluded to be fit for no civilization or society. His dress matches his surroundings: all shades of tan and brown which is made all the tanner by the very dirt with which he is attempting blend. It covers his face, his clothes, and most of all his feet. These are all fairly appropriate places for dirt, given the circumstances. He could do with out the grimy crunching sound of sand when he bites into his MRE at chow time. Not the satisfying crunching of potato chips or the breading on fried chicken, but crunching that will not satisfying in the least. All the crunch without the satisfaction of actually crushing the item that has infiltrated the teeth and mouth and tastebuds. He cannot quite remember a time in this unfamiliar territory that he has eaten food without the accompaniment of the dirt.
The shaking will not cease.
SOLDIER 2
Get up man, what's wrong with you? You've got sand all over you.
SOLDIER 1
Do I?
SOLDIER 2
Yes, and don't you hear that siren?
SOLDIER 1
Oh, yeah.
SOLDIER 2
Dude that means that we gotta be on alert. Are you listening to the radio?
SOLDIER 1
Turned it off.
SOLDIER 2
Are you crazy? What if there is something going down. It could be coming our way.
SOLDIER 1
I would know it if it were.
The second Soldier gives the soldier on the ground a look and then walks away. The look was half pity, half disgust and all jealousy.
Finally he stirs because of the shaking from a soldier. He is a soldier himself, a foreigner on hand to aid in the deconstruction of an era concluded to be fit for no civilization or society. His dress matches his surroundings: all shades of tan and brown which is made all the tanner by the very dirt with which he is attempting blend. It covers his face, his clothes, and most of all his feet. These are all fairly appropriate places for dirt, given the circumstances. He could do with out the grimy crunching sound of sand when he bites into his MRE at chow time. Not the satisfying crunching of potato chips or the breading on fried chicken, but crunching that will not satisfying in the least. All the crunch without the satisfaction of actually crushing the item that has infiltrated the teeth and mouth and tastebuds. He cannot quite remember a time in this unfamiliar territory that he has eaten food without the accompaniment of the dirt.
The shaking will not cease.
SOLDIER 2
Get up man, what's wrong with you? You've got sand all over you.
SOLDIER 1
Do I?
SOLDIER 2
Yes, and don't you hear that siren?
SOLDIER 1
Oh, yeah.
SOLDIER 2
Dude that means that we gotta be on alert. Are you listening to the radio?
SOLDIER 1
Turned it off.
SOLDIER 2
Are you crazy? What if there is something going down. It could be coming our way.
SOLDIER 1
I would know it if it were.
The second Soldier gives the soldier on the ground a look and then walks away. The look was half pity, half disgust and all jealousy.
Monday, April 11, 2005
The Environment
I am by no means a tree hugger. People always use that in such a negative way and I don't know why. What would be wrong with hugging a tree. Just like children, research suggests that plants grow better with positive reinforcement and don't do as well when you cut them down.
But, I eat animals and use furniture made of wood. Plus, I'm always throwing stuff away. I don't even have a compost heap. I always feel a little guilty, though, when I throw away all that junk mail. I wish they just wouldn't send it, of course, but I suppose that if I was a real tree hugger then I would wall paper my room with it, or use it as toilet paper, or make paper dolls that I would sell at some folk festival and donate the money to the Arbor Day Foundation. Amanda and I would look silly next to all the real hippies with their matted hair and dirty babies. Sorry, no matted hair. Just washed it. No thanks, I don't need pachule.
So, I'm not a spokesman for PETA, but, I got an email at school the other day that concerned me. It was a forward from a fellow faculty member (which irked me because they aren't supposed to send politically charged material over school email. I didn't care that I got the email, but that if I responded, it would set off a firestorm that would end up in me getting repremanded. So I sat on the desenting comment until now, where I get to say what I want.) The forward was one of these rally the troups emails to quell the big, bad oil companies. Don't get me wrong, I'm not in love with corporations. In fact I think that people who don't support small businesses should be called corporate huggers and we should turn that into a bad thing.
This email suggested that the world should agree amongst themselves to not buy gas from the big oil companies which would put pressure on them to lower prices and therefore lower everyone's prices. The reasoning was that the "don't buy gas for a day" campaign was trite and the suits at BP and Shell were rolling their eyes. We'd be back tomorrow! So whoever originated this post suggest this was something that could acually work. Which I agree with in theory. I mean, I'm no economist (what AM I?) but the don't buy from one company deal seemed reasonable. Except for one thing. It doesn't really do anything but make your gas cheaper at the expence of oil companies. The fact is that it's probably impossible to lower the price of oil or else I'm sure they would. I hear on the news about the price per barrel of crude oil, which apperantly determines how much we will pay at the pump. I think that the price is based on that number and the exec just hike it up ten cents a gallon above the little Gas Shack prices or so to make their name brand profit.
What concerned me about this forward however (besides the authors shotty logic that I, of all people, was able to find a hole in) was that it reinforced the notion that people just don't get it. WE ARE RUNNING OUT OF OIL! And we just pissed off the people who have most of it, so no one wants to go get it. (Come on, Cheny! You call that a war for oil? Where's the damn oil?) The problem is that we use too much oil and it doesn't make it as fast as we want. The earth isn't one of our sweatshop children that will work a little faster if give them three more boxes of Chicklets to sell in the markets to rich American tourist who buy the crap being made in the sweatshops.
LITTLE GIRL
Chicklets Mister?
MAN
No thank you, little girl.
LITTLE GIRL
I make you Nikes.
MAN
Deal! Work fast and you won't get beaten. As much.
(Back to oil) I am really nervous about the future of the earth and our dependency on oil. What concerns me the most is that The Bush administration does so little to curb the effects or to push for funding of research that could possibly find alternate fuels. Why not raise the standards for gas miliage, or require all vehicles to be hybrids. Of course that would cost a lot of money, but no one is going to be driving in post apocolyptic societies where energy is scarce, the ice caps are melted and winter is the new summer and summer is when Schlitterbaun is open on the North Pole. "Bring your SPF 50! The sun's, like, right there!" The Bush administration's brilliant idea is to start poking around up in the Alaskan wilderness. I've never been there, but I heard it's nice...for oil. Is Bush still pissed at the Dixie Chicks and so he's taking it out on Wide Open Spaces? Isn't the world already industrialized enough?
People, start walking, take a bus, a taxi, anything. City planners and strip mall people, stop making it so hard to get around without vehicles. Mrs. Gunderson, do you really need a Hummer? The sixth graders only throw the eggs because you slept with their daddies. And I know you're turning 16 soon, Billy, and it's really exciting because you're going to be able to drive you loser friends around until you find nothing to do, but the huge friggin pick-up? Really? What are you hauling? Your bike to the dump along with your childhood?
It's just sad. And here I am in Baytown, TX, where I went running the other day. There are no running tracks, or even sidewalks, crosswalk signals or respect for bicycles. It's a joke to try and get around without a car.
I guess that's all I have to say on the matter. The pizzas ready and I'm hungry and tired. And cranky. And I want a bottle. A bottle of respect for the earth.
But, I eat animals and use furniture made of wood. Plus, I'm always throwing stuff away. I don't even have a compost heap. I always feel a little guilty, though, when I throw away all that junk mail. I wish they just wouldn't send it, of course, but I suppose that if I was a real tree hugger then I would wall paper my room with it, or use it as toilet paper, or make paper dolls that I would sell at some folk festival and donate the money to the Arbor Day Foundation. Amanda and I would look silly next to all the real hippies with their matted hair and dirty babies. Sorry, no matted hair. Just washed it. No thanks, I don't need pachule.
So, I'm not a spokesman for PETA, but, I got an email at school the other day that concerned me. It was a forward from a fellow faculty member (which irked me because they aren't supposed to send politically charged material over school email. I didn't care that I got the email, but that if I responded, it would set off a firestorm that would end up in me getting repremanded. So I sat on the desenting comment until now, where I get to say what I want.) The forward was one of these rally the troups emails to quell the big, bad oil companies. Don't get me wrong, I'm not in love with corporations. In fact I think that people who don't support small businesses should be called corporate huggers and we should turn that into a bad thing.
This email suggested that the world should agree amongst themselves to not buy gas from the big oil companies which would put pressure on them to lower prices and therefore lower everyone's prices. The reasoning was that the "don't buy gas for a day" campaign was trite and the suits at BP and Shell were rolling their eyes. We'd be back tomorrow! So whoever originated this post suggest this was something that could acually work. Which I agree with in theory. I mean, I'm no economist (what AM I?) but the don't buy from one company deal seemed reasonable. Except for one thing. It doesn't really do anything but make your gas cheaper at the expence of oil companies. The fact is that it's probably impossible to lower the price of oil or else I'm sure they would. I hear on the news about the price per barrel of crude oil, which apperantly determines how much we will pay at the pump. I think that the price is based on that number and the exec just hike it up ten cents a gallon above the little Gas Shack prices or so to make their name brand profit.
What concerned me about this forward however (besides the authors shotty logic that I, of all people, was able to find a hole in) was that it reinforced the notion that people just don't get it. WE ARE RUNNING OUT OF OIL! And we just pissed off the people who have most of it, so no one wants to go get it. (Come on, Cheny! You call that a war for oil? Where's the damn oil?) The problem is that we use too much oil and it doesn't make it as fast as we want. The earth isn't one of our sweatshop children that will work a little faster if give them three more boxes of Chicklets to sell in the markets to rich American tourist who buy the crap being made in the sweatshops.
LITTLE GIRL
Chicklets Mister?
MAN
No thank you, little girl.
LITTLE GIRL
I make you Nikes.
MAN
Deal! Work fast and you won't get beaten. As much.
(Back to oil) I am really nervous about the future of the earth and our dependency on oil. What concerns me the most is that The Bush administration does so little to curb the effects or to push for funding of research that could possibly find alternate fuels. Why not raise the standards for gas miliage, or require all vehicles to be hybrids. Of course that would cost a lot of money, but no one is going to be driving in post apocolyptic societies where energy is scarce, the ice caps are melted and winter is the new summer and summer is when Schlitterbaun is open on the North Pole. "Bring your SPF 50! The sun's, like, right there!" The Bush administration's brilliant idea is to start poking around up in the Alaskan wilderness. I've never been there, but I heard it's nice...for oil. Is Bush still pissed at the Dixie Chicks and so he's taking it out on Wide Open Spaces? Isn't the world already industrialized enough?
People, start walking, take a bus, a taxi, anything. City planners and strip mall people, stop making it so hard to get around without vehicles. Mrs. Gunderson, do you really need a Hummer? The sixth graders only throw the eggs because you slept with their daddies. And I know you're turning 16 soon, Billy, and it's really exciting because you're going to be able to drive you loser friends around until you find nothing to do, but the huge friggin pick-up? Really? What are you hauling? Your bike to the dump along with your childhood?
It's just sad. And here I am in Baytown, TX, where I went running the other day. There are no running tracks, or even sidewalks, crosswalk signals or respect for bicycles. It's a joke to try and get around without a car.
I guess that's all I have to say on the matter. The pizzas ready and I'm hungry and tired. And cranky. And I want a bottle. A bottle of respect for the earth.
Wednesday, April 06, 2005
Imagination
So the world is still reeling over many, many things. For instance: The Pope's death. Apparently, Mitch's death didn't make the headlines. By the way, if my spelling sucks it's because the spell check on this thing doesn't work right, and I can't spell. I personally don't think it's all that important anyway. I maen, you can raed tihs aynawy. It deons't mtetar how you slpel as lnog as the frsit and lsat leterts are ccoerrt. I learned that from one of those stupid forwards. I love stupid forward.
Mostly the world is still reeling over the brith of my niece, Regan. I'm really looking forward to meeting her. Of course, I will get bored because of my short attention span and go wrestle with Aidan. That's what uncles are for. Then when Regan is old enough she'll try to join in because she wants to be like big bwudor, but she'll get hurt because she's a danty girl. Unless she's a tough chick and then she'll be able to beat us both up. I'm thinking the second.
Speaking of short attention spans, one of my students told me yesterday that no one (meaning teenagers) have imaginations. I told him that I thought that was sad, and that he had to be imaginative in order to succeed in life. He said, "It's not sad. It doesn't matter." I let him believe this because I don't particularly like this kid anyway. But it did make me sad. But, what makes me feel better is that it's not true. So many of my students are very creative. Sometimes a kid will do something that makes me laugh or think or get angry because they've done something creative. Something creatively funny, or profound, or some very creative thing to piss me off. Imagination with this one kid is pointless and stupid. This kid makes me so angry, I think mainly because he's so smart and so imaginative and he doesn't even realize it or care. I wonder how many teachers thought that about me. Don't answer that. I'd be disappointed to know the answer I'm afraid.
I submitted a play to the Scriptwriters/Houston 10x10 playwrighting contest. I don't think that it will win, simply because there are many good writers in the organization who've been doing it much longer than I. Plus, it's a slice of life piece with very little narrative arch. I suppose that if they have the right judges they might like it, or the wrong one might think it's amatuerish. Surely, among all the older people who submitted plays mine will stick out like a sore thumb. It's about a young married couple fighting over the most mundane thing and then making up and then repeating this about twice before the play is over.
Mostly the world is still reeling over the brith of my niece, Regan. I'm really looking forward to meeting her. Of course, I will get bored because of my short attention span and go wrestle with Aidan. That's what uncles are for. Then when Regan is old enough she'll try to join in because she wants to be like big bwudor, but she'll get hurt because she's a danty girl. Unless she's a tough chick and then she'll be able to beat us both up. I'm thinking the second.
Speaking of short attention spans, one of my students told me yesterday that no one (meaning teenagers) have imaginations. I told him that I thought that was sad, and that he had to be imaginative in order to succeed in life. He said, "It's not sad. It doesn't matter." I let him believe this because I don't particularly like this kid anyway. But it did make me sad. But, what makes me feel better is that it's not true. So many of my students are very creative. Sometimes a kid will do something that makes me laugh or think or get angry because they've done something creative. Something creatively funny, or profound, or some very creative thing to piss me off. Imagination with this one kid is pointless and stupid. This kid makes me so angry, I think mainly because he's so smart and so imaginative and he doesn't even realize it or care. I wonder how many teachers thought that about me. Don't answer that. I'd be disappointed to know the answer I'm afraid.
I submitted a play to the Scriptwriters/Houston 10x10 playwrighting contest. I don't think that it will win, simply because there are many good writers in the organization who've been doing it much longer than I. Plus, it's a slice of life piece with very little narrative arch. I suppose that if they have the right judges they might like it, or the wrong one might think it's amatuerish. Surely, among all the older people who submitted plays mine will stick out like a sore thumb. It's about a young married couple fighting over the most mundane thing and then making up and then repeating this about twice before the play is over.
Tuesday, April 05, 2005
Baby Girl!
With the passing of an admired entertainer comes the realization of the cycle of life. God giveth and he taketh away, for sure, but today He hath giveth much. Today, my brother Jason's wife, Kari gave birth to their second child, Regan Karina Martin. I'm sure what everyone wants to know is health, size, etc. But that's all pretence when what is really on my mind is this cycle thing. Not that I was a close friend of Hedberg's, I met him once, told him I liked his set and went about my jolly way. I expect and hope to form a relationship with the new niece. But, Hedberg's death had got me thinking recently about mortality and death, especially since he was only 37. (By the way, it was his heart, not drugs. He had had a condition since was born. I'm sure drugs didn't help.) And now only a couple of days after I find out about his death I find out that I have a new relative. Someone just popped up right out of thin air and joined the human race. Just like that. Some die, some are born. Some move onto the elevator as others move off. I guess that life is more like an escalator. I'm not sure why. Maybe because on an elevator you stand and wait to get off, but on an escalator you have the option of speeding forward, or standing still and just letting life...I mean the space, the rail, time, or whatever pass by. Also, look at the root words. An elevator elevates, while an escalator escalates. If we are still using the same analogy, this would suggest that the escalator kills you off quicker while the elevator allows you to reach new heights of success.
I don't think it's a perfect analogy, but nonetheless baby Regan is just stepping on, and I can't wait to meet her. It is so strange to say her. Since Aidan was born it was almost just an extension of Jason to me. A wonderful new extension, but still, he almost seemed like a new brother. I knew how to deal with brothers. I have two of them. But I can't really think of Regan as a sister because I don't have any reference for how to have a sister. And it isn't like having a sister-in-law, either, because I've got those and it's different. I love them, but we are related by marriage. Regan and I are blood. So this new baby girl thing is a completely new experience. And I love new experiences. I was telling Jason that this new baby is just as exciting as the first. I was afraid that there would be less hoopla and the second born would feel left out.
"Why aren't there as many pictures of me as a baby, dad/mom?"
"Well, sweetie, you were the second and you just don't take as many pictures on the second trip to the Grand Canyon, do you?"
Well, Regan, I was the second, too, but I'm not gonna let it happen this time. No sir! I've already started my computer file marked "ReganPics" and you will be lauded over just as much, I promise. Power to the second borns, my sister! ...Uh...niece.
I don't think it's a perfect analogy, but nonetheless baby Regan is just stepping on, and I can't wait to meet her. It is so strange to say her. Since Aidan was born it was almost just an extension of Jason to me. A wonderful new extension, but still, he almost seemed like a new brother. I knew how to deal with brothers. I have two of them. But I can't really think of Regan as a sister because I don't have any reference for how to have a sister. And it isn't like having a sister-in-law, either, because I've got those and it's different. I love them, but we are related by marriage. Regan and I are blood. So this new baby girl thing is a completely new experience. And I love new experiences. I was telling Jason that this new baby is just as exciting as the first. I was afraid that there would be less hoopla and the second born would feel left out.
"Why aren't there as many pictures of me as a baby, dad/mom?"
"Well, sweetie, you were the second and you just don't take as many pictures on the second trip to the Grand Canyon, do you?"
Well, Regan, I was the second, too, but I'm not gonna let it happen this time. No sir! I've already started my computer file marked "ReganPics" and you will be lauded over just as much, I promise. Power to the second borns, my sister! ...Uh...niece.
Sunday, April 03, 2005
Mitch Hedberg died
I am a big fan of stand up comedy. When I was a kid MTV had a show call Half-Hour Comedy Hour. My brothers and I always watched it and it was hilarious. When I got old enough I started going into Houston to the Laff Stop to get the live show. Well, I say I was old enough. A friend of mine and I devised a plan to get me into the Laff Stop, because you had to be 18 and I was but a lad of 17. The plan was a simple one. Hope they don't ask for my I.D., or hope they really didn't care. Viola! It worked and it worked again and again, until I eventually did turn 18. But that first time I will always remember because a comedian was headlining that night that I was lucky enough to get to know before he became uberfamous. His name was Mitch Hedberg and he was hilarious. He was a genious with one liners, peppered with a stoners drawl and contented smile that not only made what he said funnier, but made you genuinely like him, unlike the typical, "I a jerk, deal with it," comedian. What I liked about Mitch was that he seemed to genuinely be a nice guy. A very high, very drunk, very nice guy. I went back to see him again a couple of times, and one time, to my annoyance (and everyone else in the club) he brought along some friends. Instead of having the semi-funny, decent locals open for the headliner, Mitch, he had brought his own entourage for a night called Mitch Hedberg and Friends. The bill included a loud, obnoxious, drunk chick, one decently funny guy (who I remember nothing about) and the creme de la poo; this stringy-haired hanger-on, who had to be strung out on smack, or something. He had long, greasy, hair and was thinning on the top of his sweaty head and the worst part: he was not funny at all! This is not all to berate his friends. Or at least not soley to berate them. It is to say that this guy was so nice that he was willing to put his own head on the chopping block to give his strung out, untalented friends, at least one shot at some recognition. Maybe to truly understand how big a risk this is you have to have a. been to the Laff Stop on a Saturday night and seen the type of quality comedians have played this world class club, and b. seen how angry that the crowd was that these guys were on stage. I mean, I felt so bad for the stringy haired guy. I've been to plenty of comedy clubs and have seen some stinkers, but nothing like this, and I've never seen a crowd turn against an opener like this either. I think that if you are going to a comedy club, there is an expectation that the first few guys are not going to be that funny. But, you did pay $20+ to get in and you want to at least chuckle. And you certainly don't want to be embarrassed for the guy.
But, I'm not writing this to talk about bad comedians I'm talking about a very good one, and a very nice guy: Mitch Hedberg. He died last week, supposedly from a heartattack that was no doubt a result of his lifelong addiction to drugs and alcohol. It is very sad for me as I was a big fan. As a tribute here are some of his best trademark one-liners.
I got my hair highlighted, because I felt some strands were more important than others.
I had a stick of Carefree gum, but it didn't work. I felt pretty good for a while I was blowing that bubble, but as soon as the gum lost its flavor, I was back to pondering my mortality.
I want to be a race car passenger: just a guy who bugs the driver. "Say man, can I turn on the radio? You should slow down. Why do we gotta keep going in circles? Can I put my feet out the window? Boy, you really like Tide."
I don't have a girlfriend. But I do know a woman who'd be mad at me for saying that.
I love blackjack. But I'm not addicted to gambling. I'm addicted to sitting in a semi circle.
I think foosball is a combination of soccer and shish kabobs.
The thing about tennis is: no matter how much I play, I'll never be as good as a wall. I played a wall once. They're relentless.
You know when they have a fishing show on TV? They catch the fish and then let it go. They don't want to eat the fish, they just want to make it late for something.
I went to the park and saw this kid flying a kite. The kid was really excited. I don't know why, that's what they're supposed to do. Now if he had had a chair on the other end of that string, I would have been impressed.
I saw a human pyramid once. It was totally unnecessary.
I bought a doughnut and they gave me a receipt for the doughnut... I don't need a receipt for the doughnut. I give you money and you give me the doughnut, end of transaction. We don't need to bring ink and paper into this. I can't imagine a scenario that I would have to prove that I bought a doughnut. To some skeptical friend, Don't even act like I didn't buy a doughnut, I've got the documentation right here... It's in my file at home. ...Under "D." For doughnut.
It's very dangerous to wave to people you don't know because what if they don't have hands? They'll think you're cocky.
I wrote a letter to my dad - I wrote, "I really enjoy being here," but I accidentally wrote rarely instead of really. But I still wanted to use it so i crossed it out and wrote, "I rarely drive steamboats, dad - there's a lot of stuff you don't know about me. Quit trying to act like I'm a steamboat operator." This letter took a harsh turn right away...
Alcoholism is a disease, but it's the only one you can get yelled at for having. Damn it Otto, you are an alcoholic. Damn it Otto, you have Lupis... one of those two doesn't sound right
My friend said to me, "You know what I like? Mashed potatoes." I was like, "Dude, you have to give me time to guess. If you're going to quiz me you have to insert a pause."
If you had a friend who was a tightrope walker, and you were walking down a sidewalk, and he fell, that would be completely unacceptible...
I bought a seven dollar pen because I always lose pens and I got sick of not caring.
My apartment is infested with koala bears. It's the cutest infestation ever. Way better than cockroaches. When I turn on the light, a bunch of koala bears scatter, but I don't want them too. I'm like, "Hey... Hold on fellows... Let me hold one of you, and feed you a leaf." Koala bears are so cute, why do they have to be so far away from me. We need to ship a few over, so I can hold one, and pat it on its head.
I opened-up a yogurt, underneath the lid it said, "Please try again." because they were having a contest that I was unaware of. I thought maybe I opened the yogurt wrong. ...Or maybe Yoplait was trying to inspire me... "Come on Mitchell, don't give up!" An inspirational message from your friends at Yoplait, fruit on the bottom, hope on top.
You know they call corn-on-the-cob, "corn-on-the-cob", but that's how it comes out of the ground. They should just call it corn, and every other type of corn, corn-off-the-cob. It's not like if someone cut off my arm they would call it "Mitch", and then re-attached it, and call it "Mitch-all-together".
I like buying snacks from a vending machine because food is better when it falls. Sometimes at the grocery, I'll drop a candy bar so that it will achieve its maximum flavor potential.
My roommate says, "I'm going to take a shower and shave, does anyone need to use the bathroom?" It's like some weird quiz where he reveals the answer first
I use the word totally too much. I need to change it up and use a word that is different but has the same meaning. Mitch do you like submarine sandwhiches? All-encompassingly...
YOU CAN SEE MORE at http://www.thedotdotdot.com/humor/hedberg.html
But, I'm not writing this to talk about bad comedians I'm talking about a very good one, and a very nice guy: Mitch Hedberg. He died last week, supposedly from a heartattack that was no doubt a result of his lifelong addiction to drugs and alcohol. It is very sad for me as I was a big fan. As a tribute here are some of his best trademark one-liners.
I got my hair highlighted, because I felt some strands were more important than others.
I had a stick of Carefree gum, but it didn't work. I felt pretty good for a while I was blowing that bubble, but as soon as the gum lost its flavor, I was back to pondering my mortality.
I want to be a race car passenger: just a guy who bugs the driver. "Say man, can I turn on the radio? You should slow down. Why do we gotta keep going in circles? Can I put my feet out the window? Boy, you really like Tide."
I don't have a girlfriend. But I do know a woman who'd be mad at me for saying that.
I love blackjack. But I'm not addicted to gambling. I'm addicted to sitting in a semi circle.
I think foosball is a combination of soccer and shish kabobs.
The thing about tennis is: no matter how much I play, I'll never be as good as a wall. I played a wall once. They're relentless.
You know when they have a fishing show on TV? They catch the fish and then let it go. They don't want to eat the fish, they just want to make it late for something.
I went to the park and saw this kid flying a kite. The kid was really excited. I don't know why, that's what they're supposed to do. Now if he had had a chair on the other end of that string, I would have been impressed.
I saw a human pyramid once. It was totally unnecessary.
I bought a doughnut and they gave me a receipt for the doughnut... I don't need a receipt for the doughnut. I give you money and you give me the doughnut, end of transaction. We don't need to bring ink and paper into this. I can't imagine a scenario that I would have to prove that I bought a doughnut. To some skeptical friend, Don't even act like I didn't buy a doughnut, I've got the documentation right here... It's in my file at home. ...Under "D." For doughnut.
It's very dangerous to wave to people you don't know because what if they don't have hands? They'll think you're cocky.
I wrote a letter to my dad - I wrote, "I really enjoy being here," but I accidentally wrote rarely instead of really. But I still wanted to use it so i crossed it out and wrote, "I rarely drive steamboats, dad - there's a lot of stuff you don't know about me. Quit trying to act like I'm a steamboat operator." This letter took a harsh turn right away...
Alcoholism is a disease, but it's the only one you can get yelled at for having. Damn it Otto, you are an alcoholic. Damn it Otto, you have Lupis... one of those two doesn't sound right
My friend said to me, "You know what I like? Mashed potatoes." I was like, "Dude, you have to give me time to guess. If you're going to quiz me you have to insert a pause."
If you had a friend who was a tightrope walker, and you were walking down a sidewalk, and he fell, that would be completely unacceptible...
I bought a seven dollar pen because I always lose pens and I got sick of not caring.
My apartment is infested with koala bears. It's the cutest infestation ever. Way better than cockroaches. When I turn on the light, a bunch of koala bears scatter, but I don't want them too. I'm like, "Hey... Hold on fellows... Let me hold one of you, and feed you a leaf." Koala bears are so cute, why do they have to be so far away from me. We need to ship a few over, so I can hold one, and pat it on its head.
I opened-up a yogurt, underneath the lid it said, "Please try again." because they were having a contest that I was unaware of. I thought maybe I opened the yogurt wrong. ...Or maybe Yoplait was trying to inspire me... "Come on Mitchell, don't give up!" An inspirational message from your friends at Yoplait, fruit on the bottom, hope on top.
You know they call corn-on-the-cob, "corn-on-the-cob", but that's how it comes out of the ground. They should just call it corn, and every other type of corn, corn-off-the-cob. It's not like if someone cut off my arm they would call it "Mitch", and then re-attached it, and call it "Mitch-all-together".
I like buying snacks from a vending machine because food is better when it falls. Sometimes at the grocery, I'll drop a candy bar so that it will achieve its maximum flavor potential.
My roommate says, "I'm going to take a shower and shave, does anyone need to use the bathroom?" It's like some weird quiz where he reveals the answer first
I use the word totally too much. I need to change it up and use a word that is different but has the same meaning. Mitch do you like submarine sandwhiches? All-encompassingly...
YOU CAN SEE MORE at http://www.thedotdotdot.com/humor/hedberg.html
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