Depending on who you listen to Milwaukee is expecting somewhere between 3 and 9 inches of snow tonight. That's lousy if I was planning to drive, but with my Escort still down for repairs and Lisa and I both working tomorrow I'll probably have to take the bus anyway, so no harm no foul.
* while still not road worthy, the Escort is now starting and running, thanks to some tinkering I did under the hood. And, uh, just because it decided to co-operate.
I haven't felt much like blogging lately. I've been working, spending my spare time looking for a better, full time job, and dealing with the ins and outs of everyday life. Not much time for extracurricular writing I'm afraid. I hope to watch American Idol with Lisa tonight and if I consume enough caffeine I'd love to post about it. We'll see.
* * * * *
You may feel free to 'x' out of here now, because the rest of this post will be nothing more than a catch-up piece.
* In addition to Lump's ability to acquire bumps and bruises she continues to destroy my house every time she is freed from her cage (er, playpen). I might have mentioned this before, but as an example of how she spends her time: One day I lifted her out of her crib and onto the floor. This was a second-long maneuver that covered all of five feet. In that time she grabbed a blanket off the dresser with one hand, pulling it to the floor along with everything on top of it, and with the other hand grabbed a toy and threw it against the wall.
She's not unique of course. Today at work a toddler girl knocked down an entire display, sending it crashing to the ground. The Mom was embarrassed and looked crestfallen, something compounded by the rather unprofessional reaction of a co-worker of mine.
"Eighteen month old?" I asked the mom.
"Yes," she said. "How did you know?"
"I've got one at home," I said. "Mine would've done worse."
* Smiley can now call Lump by a nickname that's promoted by my sister and despised by Lisa. For the record, it's her first syllable followed by 'eee'. He also said 'no tank ooo mom-a' at the mall yesterday, which was super!
* I have to remember to schedule a doctor's appointment for my sinuses. To quote Lisa today: "You fiddle with your nose so much people are going to start thinking you've got a coke problem."
* I've become somewhat of a fan of college basketball, and of the local Bucks. Iv'e even started DVR'ing the games I'm not home to see. This is horrific news to Lisa. "You're attractivness has seriously fallen four points. I used to love that you hated sports. I would tell people 'he's not like other boys, he reads and writes and loves politics and doesn't waste his time screaming at a TV screen. Now you're just one of 'them'."
Well, that's a bit harsh. And untrue too. I have always loved baseball, and I was a casual but competitive fan of nearly all sports. May I bring up a Packers playoff victory in the '90's? It was a lovely come from behind affair. I was so excited with the result that I screamed, picked up Lisa, and tossed her in the air - ripping her $300 dress right down the back.
How quickly we forget.
Published writer, compulsive reader, Old School Whovian, Match Game enthusiast, NKOTB fan, data hoarder, and - surprisingly, given that list - married with four kids. Welcome to my take on life, fatherhood, entertainment, and whatever strikes my fancy. Enjoy!
Tuesday, February 17, 2009
Saturday, February 14, 2009
Night of the Creeps - movie review
Happy Valentines Day folks!
I rented this from the free 'on demand' station on Time Warner Cable, and boy was I happy with the choice.
It's complete garbage of course. A little gray alien ejects an experiment gone wrong from his spacecraft as it nears Earth, despite the best efforts of his own people to stop him. This experiment is composed of little slugs that enter your mouth, kill you, lay eggs in your brain, operate you as a mindless zombie for a bit, then explode your head and spread more slugs around.
The experiment lands on Earth in 1959, just in time for the estranged girlfriend of a rookie cop to be hacked to death by a serial killer while her new beau is zombie-fied in a field and placed in cryogenic hibernation.
Cut to 1986, when our hapless dork protagonist mistakenly releases the frozen zombie onto the campus of his university as he embarks on a quest to win the heart of the sorority bombshell. With the help of his disabled smart-alecky roommate and that rookie cop from 1959, who's now a bitter detective, Dork and Beauty Queen attack the invasion head on when the sorority house is attacked by zombies.
Hee Hee.
You know why I liked this? Oh, it wasn't the mandatory-for-the-'80's pan shot of the showers in the women's locker room, although that was of course appreciated.
No, I liked it because in spite of the campy situation they played it relatively straight, and there were some bits of great dialogue. Not just the one-liners: "How bout that? Zombies, exploding heads, creepy crawlies, and a date for the Formal." but some fine character motivation and back-and-forth. I looked up the writer on IMDB.com and discovered he went on to write The Monster Squad and some episodes of Enterprise and the Stargate franchise; bits of his talent can be seen here.
Go rent it; you'll have a blast.
Friday, February 13, 2009
This Place is Death: Lost Season 5, Ep. 5
You may be asking why I didn't blog about last week's episode. The answer? What was there to write about? It was a boring example of filler, with only two items of note. The first point, the survival of Jin, is no surprise since the actor has been listed on the credits as a cast member all season, despite his character's 'death' last year.
The second, the introduction of Rousseau's group, added nothing to the show.
This week, however, for the first time all year I think Lost was back. This Place is Death was a great episode, full of action, plot twists, new mysteries, and some answers.
Let's start off the island. Sun crashes the reunion at the docks and the group scatters. Sun's rather easily convinced of Jin's health by Ben and she and Jack head off with him to see the proof.
Back to them them later. In 1988 one of Rousseau's group is picked off by the Smoke Monster and killed.
Soon enough another is captured and dragged into an underground lair near an old temple. The group attempts to save him, but in the process only cause the monster to tear off his arm to take his prey.
Jin stops Danielle from joining the rest of the group on an ill-advised attempt to rescue their comrade, and then 'flashes' forward. He 'returns' a short time later (weeks/months? certainly not longer) and finds that Danielle has killed the members of her party and is facing down her baby's father at gunpoint.
Danielle is convinced he has been changed by the 'sickness', carried and transmitted by the Monster, but her beau dismisses this by saying it isn't a monster but simply a defense system set up to protect the temple. Just when she is convinced he raises his gun to kill her but it jams - her surprise looks too genuine for her to have tampered with it - and she kills him.
This part of the episode felt rushed, almost like the writers needed to answer Questions X and Y about Danielle and used this time travel crap to get it out of the way Barring further sightings of the lass, we are left with the impression Danielle was wrong about the illness. The Monster is almost certainly impersonating one or more of the men, or they've been let in on the island's secrets and switched allegiances. I don't think anything biological is involved.
Jin then manages to rejoin the remaining, pitifully small group of Losties. After a series of quick time flashes Charlotte is stricken down, returning to lucidity to proclaim a few dire prophesies - first and foremost, a warning to Jin not to bring Sun back to the island - and then tells Daniel the truth about her past. She grew up on the island and left with her mother, who ever after claimed it was a child's fantasy. She has spent her life searching for it, and now remembers something else: as a child Daniel himself warned her not to come back, because if she did she would die.
Ok. Well and good and all that, but you do see the problem, right? Charlotte dies and in an effort to prevent it he goes back in time and warns her. Obviously it fails, because the evidence of that failure is right in front of him, from her very mouth. Therefore there is no incentive for Daniel to have ever issued the warning, because he would know from the moment it became necessary that it would fall on deaf ears. Maybe he uttered it in the past out of sheer emotion, because logically there is no reason to speak the words.
Better for them both if he told the Mom to have Charlotte attend art school and avoid the skill set needed for her return; all Daniel's done is ensure her death.
So we get to the Orchid station but it vanishes in a literal flash. Cuing off one of Charlotte's statements John begins to climb down a well nearby. First though he must promise Jin that he will not bring Sun back, and takes his ring as 'proof' of death. As he descends the well a flash brings the group forward or backward in time far enough that the well is no more, and John is believed to have perished, encased in soil.
In truth Christian Shepard/Jacob finds John in a chilly tunnel. He says the cause of the time slips are on John's shoulders. "I said you had to move the island John," he said, referencing the fact that Ben is the one who did the deed. John stammers out an explanation but it is dismissed with a quick jab at Ben. John is instructed to restore the wheel onto its axis and a light engulfs him.
Back in the real world Ben uses Jin's ring to convince Sun that she must return to the island - a brilliant use of the ring to keep the promise and yet get a polar opposite result. Desmond comes out of the shadows and more or less proves what we've guessed for awhile; Eloise Hawking is Daniel Farraday's mother.
And the quest to return to the island begins in earnest . . .
The second, the introduction of Rousseau's group, added nothing to the show.
This week, however, for the first time all year I think Lost was back. This Place is Death was a great episode, full of action, plot twists, new mysteries, and some answers.
Let's start off the island. Sun crashes the reunion at the docks and the group scatters. Sun's rather easily convinced of Jin's health by Ben and she and Jack head off with him to see the proof.
Back to them them later. In 1988 one of Rousseau's group is picked off by the Smoke Monster and killed.
Soon enough another is captured and dragged into an underground lair near an old temple. The group attempts to save him, but in the process only cause the monster to tear off his arm to take his prey. 
Jin stops Danielle from joining the rest of the group on an ill-advised attempt to rescue their comrade, and then 'flashes' forward. He 'returns' a short time later (weeks/months? certainly not longer) and finds that Danielle has killed the members of her party and is facing down her baby's father at gunpoint.
Danielle is convinced he has been changed by the 'sickness', carried and transmitted by the Monster, but her beau dismisses this by saying it isn't a monster but simply a defense system set up to protect the temple. Just when she is convinced he raises his gun to kill her but it jams - her surprise looks too genuine for her to have tampered with it - and she kills him.
This part of the episode felt rushed, almost like the writers needed to answer Questions X and Y about Danielle and used this time travel crap to get it out of the way Barring further sightings of the lass, we are left with the impression Danielle was wrong about the illness. The Monster is almost certainly impersonating one or more of the men, or they've been let in on the island's secrets and switched allegiances. I don't think anything biological is involved.
Jin then manages to rejoin the remaining, pitifully small group of Losties. After a series of quick time flashes Charlotte is stricken down, returning to lucidity to proclaim a few dire prophesies - first and foremost, a warning to Jin not to bring Sun back to the island - and then tells Daniel the truth about her past. She grew up on the island and left with her mother, who ever after claimed it was a child's fantasy. She has spent her life searching for it, and now remembers something else: as a child Daniel himself warned her not to come back, because if she did she would die.
Ok. Well and good and all that, but you do see the problem, right? Charlotte dies and in an effort to prevent it he goes back in time and warns her. Obviously it fails, because the evidence of that failure is right in front of him, from her very mouth. Therefore there is no incentive for Daniel to have ever issued the warning, because he would know from the moment it became necessary that it would fall on deaf ears. Maybe he uttered it in the past out of sheer emotion, because logically there is no reason to speak the words.
Better for them both if he told the Mom to have Charlotte attend art school and avoid the skill set needed for her return; all Daniel's done is ensure her death.
So we get to the Orchid station but it vanishes in a literal flash. Cuing off one of Charlotte's statements John begins to climb down a well nearby. First though he must promise Jin that he will not bring Sun back, and takes his ring as 'proof' of death. As he descends the well a flash brings the group forward or backward in time far enough that the well is no more, and John is believed to have perished, encased in soil.
In truth Christian Shepard/Jacob finds John in a chilly tunnel. He says the cause of the time slips are on John's shoulders. "I said you had to move the island John," he said, referencing the fact that Ben is the one who did the deed. John stammers out an explanation but it is dismissed with a quick jab at Ben. John is instructed to restore the wheel onto its axis and a light engulfs him.
Back in the real world Ben uses Jin's ring to convince Sun that she must return to the island - a brilliant use of the ring to keep the promise and yet get a polar opposite result. Desmond comes out of the shadows and more or less proves what we've guessed for awhile; Eloise Hawking is Daniel Farraday's mother.
And the quest to return to the island begins in earnest . . .
Thursday, February 12, 2009
YaYa's Funky Hat
YaYa scooped this furry Mad Hatter design from her maternal Grandma's closet and has worn it almost every day for weeks now.
Wednesday, February 11, 2009
Quote of the Day
Smiley came downstairs this morning with blue nail polish on his cheeks, hands, and nails. Apparently he'd raided one of his sister's rooms after bedtime last night.
"Smiley you cannot wear nail polish!" Lisa said. "Are you a boy or a girl?"
"Ba-oyyy" Smiley said, using one of his newest words.
"Then you can't wear nail polish. Boys don't wear nail polish Smiley."
He shook his head and smiled like she was slow.
"Uh-uh mama," he said, content his actions were justifiable and manly. "It ba-ooo." [blue]
"Smiley you cannot wear nail polish!" Lisa said. "Are you a boy or a girl?"
"Ba-oyyy" Smiley said, using one of his newest words.
"Then you can't wear nail polish. Boys don't wear nail polish Smiley."
He shook his head and smiled like she was slow.
"Uh-uh mama," he said, content his actions were justifiable and manly. "It ba-ooo." [blue]
Tuesday, February 10, 2009
Victory Will Be Mine!
A few weeks ago, knowing my love of slippers, Lisa told me about a pair of Family Guy slippers on clearance at Target, in my size (13), for under three bucks. Naturally I ran out and got them!
If Stewie really wanted to get rid of Lois he'd buy her a pair of these, as the big, oddshapen Stewie head on the toes tends to befuddle you while walking up the stairs (no, I wasn't wearing them when I fell).
It's odd that I love slippers so much - although I tend to stick to the sedate, black old man variety - since I was so adamently opposed to them as a child. Huh. Tastes change I guess, but whatever your age you have to admit: the Stewie slippers rock!
Monday, February 9, 2009
Phelps, Weed, the Journal, and Bisquick
I'm a little annoyed today, in large part because my kids are lazy mess-makers who won't eat a good meal their Mom prepares for them, and/or hackers with poor typing skills. You can also blame part of my mood on a cover story I saw today that chastised Michael Phelps for 'letting down his fans'.
Oh, for cripes sake. How???
First of all I don't buy the 'role model' argument. I wouldn't approve of my kids idolizing Manson, Hitler or Che for any reason, but when it comes to athletes and celebrities I'd stress their accomplishments and not their personal life. By my count most brand name actors, from Drew Barrymore to Sean Penn, are high school dropouts. Admire their resume and leave it at that.
Aside from that, I'm still stumped by how a society can condone and even celebrate booze, the maker of car accidents and bar brawls, while criminalizing marijuana - something that, at worst, encourages the consumption of Doritos.
Phelps shouldn't have broken the law, no matter how archaic it is, not unless the law is the Fugitive Slave Act or its equivalent. And he should have used some discrection. (If he wasn't going to smoke alone, at least use a more subtle and less photogenic one-hitter). All the same I default to something Saturday Night Live used in a skit last week.
To paraphrase: if you're at a party getting stoned with Michael Phelps, and you take and sell a picture of him instead of just thinking "Cool! I'm at a party getting stoned with Michael Phelps!" then you sir . . .are just a DICK.
* * * *
Bisquick wrote and apologized for the fly in the batter incident with a long winded letter. It explained the science behind how it could have happened (too much info)and included two six dollar coupons for General Mills products. I'll let you know how Bisquick's new 'Heart Smart' trans and saturated fat free mix tastes - and if there are any flies involved.
* * * *
I'm a little irked at the Journal. The 18th will mark two months since my first column was published and there have been none since. It isn't a matter of low production. I've submitted several pieces over the last month alone, bringing the number on file up to five.
Nor is lousy writing to blame. Of the five one has been published, one is being 'reviewed', two have been accepted for publication, and one has been rejected. That last one, believe it or not, is the real confidence booster. If they're willing to shoot one down, then I'm confident the ones they accept are solid and well done.
[a sixth piece, a book review, was rejected citing a company policy against accepting outside reviews]
In an email to me the editor wrote the delay off as nothing but mathematical, the result of a publishing schedule making room for everyone 'in their turn' and further interrupted by holidays and the inauguration.
Horsehockey. The same week I got that email the Journal sent a polite but pleading letter to all the writers asking for everyone to submit their second piece for consideration.
If you can't pull your weight, the heck with keeping your place in line. Let it go to someone who can produce copy, be it me or someone else.
(and by that, I mean to me and me alone, naturally)
* * * * * * *
Programming note: I have some 27 posts currently done and scheduled, with an equal number existing as 'drafts'. These are mainly book and movie reviews I've been sitting on in case of an extended hiatus from Slapinions. I need every spare moment I have for the job search, so you may see some of those make the grade in the upcoming days.
Oh, for cripes sake. How???
First of all I don't buy the 'role model' argument. I wouldn't approve of my kids idolizing Manson, Hitler or Che for any reason, but when it comes to athletes and celebrities I'd stress their accomplishments and not their personal life. By my count most brand name actors, from Drew Barrymore to Sean Penn, are high school dropouts. Admire their resume and leave it at that.
Aside from that, I'm still stumped by how a society can condone and even celebrate booze, the maker of car accidents and bar brawls, while criminalizing marijuana - something that, at worst, encourages the consumption of Doritos.
Phelps shouldn't have broken the law, no matter how archaic it is, not unless the law is the Fugitive Slave Act or its equivalent. And he should have used some discrection. (If he wasn't going to smoke alone, at least use a more subtle and less photogenic one-hitter). All the same I default to something Saturday Night Live used in a skit last week.
To paraphrase: if you're at a party getting stoned with Michael Phelps, and you take and sell a picture of him instead of just thinking "Cool! I'm at a party getting stoned with Michael Phelps!" then you sir . . .are just a DICK.
* * * *
Bisquick wrote and apologized for the fly in the batter incident with a long winded letter. It explained the science behind how it could have happened (too much info)and included two six dollar coupons for General Mills products. I'll let you know how Bisquick's new 'Heart Smart' trans and saturated fat free mix tastes - and if there are any flies involved.
* * * *
I'm a little irked at the Journal. The 18th will mark two months since my first column was published and there have been none since. It isn't a matter of low production. I've submitted several pieces over the last month alone, bringing the number on file up to five.
Nor is lousy writing to blame. Of the five one has been published, one is being 'reviewed', two have been accepted for publication, and one has been rejected. That last one, believe it or not, is the real confidence booster. If they're willing to shoot one down, then I'm confident the ones they accept are solid and well done.
[a sixth piece, a book review, was rejected citing a company policy against accepting outside reviews]
In an email to me the editor wrote the delay off as nothing but mathematical, the result of a publishing schedule making room for everyone 'in their turn' and further interrupted by holidays and the inauguration.
Horsehockey. The same week I got that email the Journal sent a polite but pleading letter to all the writers asking for everyone to submit their second piece for consideration.
If you can't pull your weight, the heck with keeping your place in line. Let it go to someone who can produce copy, be it me or someone else.
(and by that, I mean to me and me alone, naturally)
* * * * * * *
Programming note: I have some 27 posts currently done and scheduled, with an equal number existing as 'drafts'. These are mainly book and movie reviews I've been sitting on in case of an extended hiatus from Slapinions. I need every spare moment I have for the job search, so you may see some of those make the grade in the upcoming days.
RE: the last post
YaYa, my seven year old, managed to hack into both my AOL and Blogger accounts via means unknown and post a request for email. I discovered it over dinner when Lisa's question of 'What was the best part of your day?" was met with "Breaking into Daddy's blog and creating a post."
Because of justified concerns for her privacy I have deleted her full email addy but left the post up for posterity. YaYa is confined to her room for the rest of the night, where I can only imagine she's working on tapping into the phone line in order to prank the Pentagon.
Because of justified concerns for her privacy I have deleted her full email addy but left the post up for posterity. YaYa is confined to her room for the rest of the night, where I can only imagine she's working on tapping into the phone line in order to prank the Pentagon.
Saturday, February 7, 2009
ARoid
It was a beautiful day here, with temperatures in the 50's and our whole clan at a family birthday party in Butler.
Unfortunately all that good will was ruined tonight,by a casual comment I overheard in a parking lot. According to Sports Illustrated, and allegedly collaborated by four sources, Yankee Alex Rodriguez tested positive for performance enhancing chemicals in his 2003 MVP season.
Rationally, I am outraged by the leak. The 2003 tests were done under unconditional anonymity so MLB could assess the extent of the problem. For the results to be leaked wholesale to the public is a breach of contractual obligations and a clear violation of the civil rights of the players. Saying 'oh, well, it's out now' is bunk - it should never have seen the light of day, and whoever leaked it should face the appropriate penalties.
That's what my mind is saying. Meanwhile, my heart is broken.
ARod is my favorite current-era player. When Smiley was only a few months old I took him to see Rodriguez at Miller Parker, and he honored my boy by hitting his 399th and 400th home runs that day. I don't care if he is a flake, or emotionally fragile, if he likes masculine women or is a grand person or a bum; I admired his talent, his God given over abundance of talent.
To see his name on that list is devastating.
One, he didn't need steroids. He's been a prized hitter since he was a teen, and was named Baseball America's top something or another in high school. For him to resort to 'roids is just another sign of his emotional vulnerability, his yearning for acceptance and to be 'one of the boys'. It's sad. Pathetic even.
Two, the implications for MLB are monumental. Yes, the results were confidential, and presumably Arod has tested clean (and posted mammoth numbers) in the years since the test in question. But from this point on there can be no doubt - this entire era, from the early '90's until the midpoint of this decade, is an ethical quagmire. Sure, Bonds was the poster child for this issue, but did you ever truly doubt he was doped? I doubt it. Now, everyone is a suspect. Who's clean, and who just hasn't been caught? Who's numbers are 'real' and who's are inflated? What records are sacrosanct, and which are frauds?
We'll never know.
Oh, in time other issues in the sport will eclipse this, and perhaps steroids will be so commonplace or insignificant as to no longer warrant our attention. What's a little injection of growth hormone in 2030 when you can slide down to Tijuana and have your DNA beefed up to quicken your reflexes?
But for now, the sport is tainted. I don't want this to be pro-wrestling, where you look around constantly and wonder where the fix will come in.
Sadly I think that's what it's come down to today, and it's a lousy shame.
Unfortunately all that good will was ruined tonight,by a casual comment I overheard in a parking lot. According to Sports Illustrated, and allegedly collaborated by four sources, Yankee Alex Rodriguez tested positive for performance enhancing chemicals in his 2003 MVP season.
Rationally, I am outraged by the leak. The 2003 tests were done under unconditional anonymity so MLB could assess the extent of the problem. For the results to be leaked wholesale to the public is a breach of contractual obligations and a clear violation of the civil rights of the players. Saying 'oh, well, it's out now' is bunk - it should never have seen the light of day, and whoever leaked it should face the appropriate penalties.
That's what my mind is saying. Meanwhile, my heart is broken.
ARod is my favorite current-era player. When Smiley was only a few months old I took him to see Rodriguez at Miller Parker, and he honored my boy by hitting his 399th and 400th home runs that day. I don't care if he is a flake, or emotionally fragile, if he likes masculine women or is a grand person or a bum; I admired his talent, his God given over abundance of talent.
To see his name on that list is devastating.
One, he didn't need steroids. He's been a prized hitter since he was a teen, and was named Baseball America's top something or another in high school. For him to resort to 'roids is just another sign of his emotional vulnerability, his yearning for acceptance and to be 'one of the boys'. It's sad. Pathetic even.
Two, the implications for MLB are monumental. Yes, the results were confidential, and presumably Arod has tested clean (and posted mammoth numbers) in the years since the test in question. But from this point on there can be no doubt - this entire era, from the early '90's until the midpoint of this decade, is an ethical quagmire. Sure, Bonds was the poster child for this issue, but did you ever truly doubt he was doped? I doubt it. Now, everyone is a suspect. Who's clean, and who just hasn't been caught? Who's numbers are 'real' and who's are inflated? What records are sacrosanct, and which are frauds?
We'll never know.
Oh, in time other issues in the sport will eclipse this, and perhaps steroids will be so commonplace or insignificant as to no longer warrant our attention. What's a little injection of growth hormone in 2030 when you can slide down to Tijuana and have your DNA beefed up to quicken your reflexes?
But for now, the sport is tainted. I don't want this to be pro-wrestling, where you look around constantly and wonder where the fix will come in.
Sadly I think that's what it's come down to today, and it's a lousy shame.
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