4:16 p.m. October 30, 2012. Day after Hurricane Sandy knocks out my heat, water, power, internet, and phone service. This is the exact moment my heart broke and I lost the ability to empathize with children, or humanity on a whole.
Disney has purchased LucasFilm LTD. for a total of $4.05 billion. Part of the deal includes detailed plot treatments for another Lucas-designed Star Wars trilogy (and Indiana Jones, but let's not bury the lead here).
Granted, George has done none of the good for SW in 20 years, but still, tis is a terrifying thought. What horrible, canonical sequels and spinoffs could they wreak?
"But Dave!" you say, and loudly for some reason, "Doesn't Disney own Marvel, and aren't the Avengers movies kick ass?" Well, yes, however those movies were started before Disney bought Marvel, and they're productions of Marvel Studios a semi-autonomous division, and currently under the reign of the almighty Joss Whedon, blessed be his name. They get multiple byes that Star Wars may not.
Honestly, I try to placate myself. Most of the best Star Wars stuff has always been someone else's. Irvin Kirshner's death this year hit me pretty hard. I don't go in for a lot of the Old Republic EU, just the newest stuff with the primary characters and their families. This won't really affect me so much, even if they do create terrible sequesls starting as early as 2015.
But then I ask myself, what could really be worse than George Lucas making moreStar Wars episodes? And I'm horrified to say the first thing–the only thing, really–that instantaneously comes to mind, is "Disney making more Star Wars."
Condoms. You're gonna be doing a lot of of nothing when the power goes out. This might be wishful thinking on your part, actually.
One of those cigarette-lighter/three-prong AC adapters for your car
A power strip. Listen, you're power's going to go out. You're going to head to a local store where they still have power. You're going to be an asshole and park it by a power outlet all day to charge your laptop and pretend like everyone else can't see you looking at softcore porn. The least you could do is bring a surge protector to help out some other assholes.
A book. Most of us are going to feel some REM withdrawal as our electronic devices are sequestered to conserve energy and then slowly die off anyway. With the exclusion of those of us working in publishing, a "book" seems like a terrible replacement, but dude, seriously, you're going to run through every magazine, email, and cereal box fairly quickly. Take this opportunity to catch up on Game of Thrones or something. Worst case scenario, you get sleepy and take a nap after a few pages, killing time until the end of the world finishes up.
Lots and lots of beer. Seriously, lots. Enough to drown the hurricane. That much. This is … this is gonna be a long one, guys. Beer will help.
I saw a commercial for the Honda Civic tonight. Twice. It showed a Toyota dealer talking up all the buttons in a Toyota, although none of them were an analogue to Honda's apparently proprietary "Econ" button.
Just switch it on and save on gas mileage.
What?
You mean there's a button on my car, and if I press it it will save me money on gas.
You assholes. Why would you even make that a button? Why not make it a default part of the car? If I can have my car automatically adjust its performance to improve energy efficiency, wouldn't I want that on always?
Is this like "OverDrive" again? Is it just another thing no one has any comprehension of and should just leave on constantly? Is there, like, that one strange scenario where I need to tow a raft full of orphaned Boy Scouts and three-legged puppies to safety before they tumble over the side of a sheer cliff face where I should turn that feature off? Because I really can't imagine a situation where I would want more inefficient gas mileage.
Is that the trick? I have to know how and when to switch the button on? And if I screw it up, I'm really not getting the most out of my car, am I?
But then again, we couldn't give the job of making that decision over to the car's computer, could we? Not and risk the inevitable outcome of Judgement Day.
Today a man called my store to check on the availability of two books before he was willing to "schlep" down for them: The Looming Tower: Al-Qaeda and the Road to 9/11 by Lawrence Wright, and Jane Mayer's The Dark Side.
When I found these books, I put them on hold for Mr. Weinberg.
I set them down on the hold shelf next to an Angry Bird plushy, and the coincidence struck me of placing books about Al-Qaeda next to an animal that is launched through the air, changes trajectory mid-flight, and crashes itself into edifices constructed by its mortal enemies, thieving, entitled "Others," taking what they want out of Imperialistic gusto and foolhardy belief in their cultural and technological superiority.
Edward Said, I hope you are proud of me.
Even I find this tasteless, but the art is so accurate I couldn't not post it.
I just knocked a hot sauce packet behind my radiator.
A cursory glance indicated it was immediately gone forever. A more detailed examination did nothing to dissuade me from this belief. I shined a light down there. I pressed my head upon the wall and squinted the one eye I could squash up against it, and I rearranged my glasses and, yeah, it's there, teasing me. I put a tape-covered stick down there but collected only dust from untold years of accumulated filth. Basically, unless I take the entire unit off the wall, or demolish the house itself, that hot sauce is staying where it is.
Up-shot: it is sealed, so at least my room won't smell like tomato paste forever.
Down-side: I hope it doesn't catch fire or explode and rain fiery tomato paste everywhere.
Whoever designed the tie on the Fifty Shades of Gray cover has to be pissed tie printers don't get royalties. I'm sure the company that sells it is very excited though.
In fact everybody's trying to cash in. I recently saw a line of softcore bondage gear trying to get in on the action without actually referencing the Shades. How'd they manage this? They shot the promo images for their boxes entirely in grayscale. That's some classy, classy glamor shots, right there.
As always, my news comes solely from tech blogs, and the BBC. Because no one's more fair and balanced in reporting American news stories than the Eastern hemisphere.
My mom half coined a saying at IBM global headquarters in Armonk, NY: "If you feed them, they will come."
Primarily, this was a way of coercing executives to attend monthly meetings by plying them with make-your-own Sunday bars.
Much as I believe in this at the core of my being, I've found the reverse is also true: if you do good by someone, often times you'll be rewarded with delicious treats. Pavlov had something there.
As of today, customers I have served well have returned to our store to bequeath onto me:
- An extra frapaccino
- The most delicious cake pop ever
- Christmas lasagne
- Beer
And now cannoli cream filled strawberries drizzled in dark chocolate.
Admittedly, this is partially a humblebrag, but I find an actual puzzle in the details, that being, "How do my customers seem to know that feeding me will ensure their infinite good graces?"
Were they too taught the tradition of feeding, or is there something about me that lets them know I am easily swayed by confections?
"Only nerds play video games" was ruined by that whole "Call of Duty" thing. And Madden. And Halo.
"All nerds think about is sex," isn't exactly true. I mean yes, it is, but unless you plan on seducing that cheerleader with your Japanese tentacle porn or long, steely-eyed glances while you save her from sword-wielding demons as cherry blossoms blow in the background, you're probably not actually good at sex. Point of order: a lack of cardio.
They'd end up in prison on wrongful death convictions after one of the girls killed herself when she realized she'd been spied on in the shower, then broadcast over the LAN to a neighboring frat house.
As Robot Chicken pointed out, they'd be in jail for about nine other reasons too.
The gay kid wouldn't be caught dead in any of Lamar's original wardrobe pieces.
Their talent show performance would still have synth, and look predominantly the same, but any audience would be permanently deafened by the rumbling bass of the nerds' dub-step band barreling through cinema speakers.
Any nerds that smart would have gotten into a much better school, where stratification of social cliques is less pronounced due to a higher overall standard of collegiate excellence. They would be quite popular among their grad student peers, and would receive modest funding for their various side projects, ensuring at minimum long and healthy publishing careers and a tidy income from various patents for processes used in handheld devices and autonomous vehicles. The jocks would enjoy their sports while maintaining B+ averages throughout their MBA track.
So I drove down to the DMV today to get new plates and make alterations to the title and registration. I'm not saying the DMV, like all DMVs is in a low-class neighborhood, but this was the mannequin outside the privately owned denim shop/Boost Mobile retailer that shares the complex with the DMV, an army recruiting station, and an insurance brokerage.
I couldn't get a side view without looking like a creeper, but that mannequin is tiny legs and waist with a HUGE ass. I mean disproportionate to the rest of it huge. Basically, this was the inspiration for Sit Mixalot's seminal classic "Baby Got Back," is what I'm saying.
And now I'm imagining an better version of the 1987 film Mannequin updated to feature Ice Cube and half the still-living cast of Friday.
It's that time again, whenceby I declare my list of Ballsiest Costumes from NYCC 2012. I still plan on posting my Favorite costumes, but these are the cosplayers I deem to possess cajones comprised of solid brass. So without further lily gilding, I present my Illustrious Six:
The only black guy to dress as Spider-Man who went for Ultimate Spider-Man:
Listen, there are a lot of nerds at Comic Con. Many of them are also of African descent. It would be racially unjust to hold it against them when they want to dress as their favorite super heroes, especially since a vast majority of the best ones are Caucasian. Sure, there are a few Go-Tos: John Stewart (Green Lantern), Black Panther–there was actually a great King T'Challa, but he wasn't included on this list because it was too obvious by comparison. The trouble is it just looks wrong when you see black Batman, even if that was made a pre-52 canonical universe in Final Crisis. If I see you and know you're a guy in a costume instead of the character you're trying to perfectly emulate, you've done something wrong.
Except Miles Morales is the current Ultimate universe version of Spider-Man, and he's half black, have Latino. And he looks pretty similar to this guy above. I say Kudos for picking a character matching your physicality–not just in hue but in build–and wearing a quality costume with aplomb.
Bain Capital, Batman & Mitt Romney:
Holy crap. First off, it's a giant latex puppet costume. Secondly, it's ludicrously well-made. Thirdly, it's a giant political pun, in context for Comic Con, playing off the character's recent popularity in his movie appearance this year and his comic book roots. And he's pummeling Deadpool for fun, which is pretty great. (HI, MAIDPOOL! Didn't see you there until I looked at the picture. How was Con for you this year?) Also, rockin' Converse.
Listen, with all the nerds walking around with licensed proton packs, dressing like Bjork/Lady Gaga isn't the safest choice. Bravo. Now nobody think of anything.
Squirrel Girl, Marvel Comics:
Miss, you perfected this costume, which is surprising insofar as I'm a giant nerd and all I know of Squirrel Girl is her general appearance and that she is one of the most obscure characters in the Marvel universe. She was a Great Lakes Avenger. When that team disbanded, she became the nanny for Luke Cage's daughter. Yeah, that's about as relevant as Squirrel Girl gets.
Carl Grimes, The Walking Dead
This is a ballsy costume on the grounds that it is pretty perfectly done, and so I had to take this photo from a distance like some type of creepy pedophile, out of fear that approaching Carl too closely might result in my horrible, horrible death. Seriously, Carl, goddam it, why can't you just listen to your parents?
Actual Orco, He-Man and the Masters of the Universe:
Two years ago, I gave a Ballsy nod to a guy dressed as the Final Fantasy Black Mage (I do not know if he, like Spider-Man, was African or just "black") simply because anyone dressing like this:
could easily be mistaken for Orco, and get his shit kicked in. Orco's a dangerous character to dress like. I'd rank it up there with Snarf, Jar-Jar Binks, and boxer shorts Osama bin Laden with a Playmobil Airport set.
That said, I am ecstatic to compliment this gentleman for nailing a character so well, and having the stones to nailing this character. This is the official Ballsiest Costume of New York Comic Con 2012. Bravo, Sir. You took on the competition, and you beat them all. Much as I imagine you were at some point shortly after this photo was taken beaten to death by those around you.
Ugh. So I saw The Colbert Report at 7:30 and then the 11:30 episode came on and I realized it was actually 1:30 and I'd stayed up way too late to post my annual Best Costumes post, so here's proof that nerds have coopted all of New York the whole year, and not just one weekend in October:
"Where we're going, we don't need roads." And that's how Mitt Romney won the movie geek vote and slashed public works budgets.
While waiting for the subway at New York Comic Con this past weekend, a man came up and handed me a flyer. Like an idiot, I took it, hoping it was a coupon since, after all, I was dressed like a blind Han Solo.
Nope. It was about Jesus.
My compatriot ignored him spectacularly, as she has been a New Yorker officially for a few months now. Before he could say anything else, I turned back to this man, presented the paper he had just handed me, and projected a resolute, "NO."
He took it, but asked me, "You don't want to learn about Jesus?" like a sad mother who just had her puppy kicked by her favorite nun.
"NO."
Man, listen. I was raised Jewish. Do you know what that means? It means I already learned about Jesus, and probably know more about him than you do, since I had to study that, not being inundated with hyperbole and dogma since birth. I'm not Christio-brainwashed, I'm faithfully educated.
"Well, alright, He still loves you," the man said as he trudged away, feeling sad but inside I know, also resentful and more than a little superior.
"Oh, I know," I called after him. I just told you. I know about Jesus already. I don't need help. I'm very glad that you are trying to be a good person and are not forcing anything on me overtly, but I still don't need what you're offering.
Moreover, that guy Jesus is playing this all wrong. First he's married to every nun on Earth, then he plays this.
Saying He loves me so early in the game? I'm not even committed to him yet, officially or unofficially. Men should never say "I love you" first. It's bad form. You give up a lot of the control in the relationship when you say that, and I know the church is all about control, so what's the deal, Jesus?
Men never say the L-word first, and they never use emoticons first either.
Same reason. Also, most of the time they look stupid.
I just realized for the first time in my life, that I am in a stable relationship.
I haven't had a date in close to a yea. That's pretty damned stable, if you ask me. I bet you couples out there have your ups and downs, but I rarely get into fights with myself.
And when I do? I always win!
Plus the make-up sex is amazing. I don't know how I do it, but I always seem to know just how I'm going to want it. There's no guessing; somehow I just know. It's like I'm in my head, y'know?
Might have to install this at the Thunderdome. Did not inquire as to price. Money is no object. Especially when you plan on never actually buying something.
Everything you need to last three days at New York's fabulous labyrinthine Javit's Center!
1. Water. At least two 12oz bottles daily. A Vitamin Water is a suggested substitute as it replenishes electrolytes but has less sugar in most cases than Gatorade, so no crash. Energy shots are acceptable, half in the morning, half in the afternoon.
2. Camera. Or something with a camera. You will see some things. Oh man, will you see some things! Anything you can fire off a quick snap is best. If you're a smartphone user, look into that swipe-from-lock-screen kind of stuff beforehand.
3. Phone charger. You will not find three-prong outlets anywhere EXCEPT: power strips at info desks and on the uppermost anime floor. (The former are manned until the wee hours of the evening, the latter you merely have to assault a JSDF foxgirl cafe maid to get to.)
4. A backpack. Aside from holding all this stuff, it will—hands free!— hold all the stuff you're going to buy. Speaking of…
5. Like twice the money you thought you would need. Listen, you're going to be buying a lot of swag. Stuff you didn't even think you'd need. And there will be free stuff. You'll probably buy a thing that comes with a giant bag. These bags are awful. Put that inside a smaller, better bag. As for money, take 1/3 with you the first day, 1/2 the second day, and if you're there the rest on Day Three. With this plan you may only need to break out the debit card at after parties and for a train ticket home.
6. A book if you plan to stand in line for anything.
Additionally, Never bring the following items:
A. A coat. I know it's cold out. It's New York in October. However the temperature inside will quickly climb past "balls hot" with a stench to match after the first day.
B. Anything heavy. Remember that backpack? Still gonna get too heavy too quickly. The goal for most of your time is going to be "pack light." If it looks like you can save your buying until the end of the day, do it. Many vendors will gladly hold your 30lb, $400 Green Lantern statue for you at their booth, since you just gave them $400.
C. Your house keys. Unless you live in NYC and are heading home every night, leaving your keys and any non-essentials/valuables wherever you're crashing. You don't need them, you don't want to lose them, and, yes, it's possible even Iron Man can be mugged in New York. I think that's happened at least once in the comics.
D. Your computer. Seriously, don't be that guy. Unless you're already being paid to be there for a specific panel, you're not a reliable news source and you don't need to be leaching the cell networks trying to tether your Pad, Pad, Book, and MiFi through your phone's carrier signal because you're too cheap to shill out the $11 a day for Javits Center WiFi. Get your blogger apps ready early, prep posts, and bulk-update over meals and after you get out like the rest of us "blue collar bloggers." (I just heard that on The Daily Show. Neat.)
Add some studs and spikes, and that's the same jacket M.J. wore in his "Thriller" video. I'm just glad Michael Jackson never lived to see this day. You know, what with all the child molestation and all.
I came up with this the other day. Since I have n use for it, have at it. Replace "Justin Bieber" with any 'artist' you utterly loathe.
"To call Justin Bieber's work pedestrian would be to insult the intelligence of anyone capable of crossing the street."
Feel free to add an "Oh, snap," to the end if you so choose.
And for the record, the older he gets, the more I come to believe that Justin Bieber is actually the first successful human clone.
I worked crew for an elaborate production of The King and I in high school. It was fantastic for such a production, but one problem I took away from it was that I could never remember where it took place.
Burma I remembered fine. The king constantly disparaging Burma, saying it like it was hilarious, beneath mention, like a Cubs World Series championship. The children, horrified by a map showing that Burma was in fact a much larger country, and their land only a small thing on a far grander world than they had been taught. Burma Burma Burma, it was the Marsha of the Eastern Brady Bunch.
But for whatever reason I forgot they lived in Siam.
Siamese, that I'm fine with. The cats are adorable. I've never actually seen "The Lady and the Tramp," but they have a cute song in that too. Mr. Burns makes dated references to Siam in early Simpsons episodes, back when people still watched that. But Siam as a country never stuck with me.
And now it's gone. Burma lives on though sometimes called Myanmar, but Siam died, becoming Thailand.
Myanmar, your anmar, the important thing is there's anmar.
Yes, this entire post was a lead in for that one very bad joke. Shut up.
I discovered this yesterday. Previously, I was only a bit confused by Beck's vitriolic diatribes. primarily, I wondered whether Beck realized that—and if he did, why—he dressed like a fascist on the cover of "Arguing with Idiots." Case in point:
Still, I generally believed that if I were to sit down with Glenn Beck in a quiet setting, and neither of us were to raise our voices, I would be able to best Beck in any political debate in a manner of a few minutes.
Now, now I don't know. I think I might resort to screaming in futility and forfeit my own opinions in favor of completely justifiable murder.
Glenn Beck, you are not George Washington.
Yes, I'm sure the premise of your book was that Washington valued and tried to embody in his very human life higher ideals, which we too can choose to live by, even through hardship and personal difficulty. However, you are still not George Washington. I believe that, brought down to it, you would throw your ideals out the window to save his own life.
I would do the same thing. I'm a bleeding heart pussy. I believe life is the only sacred thing in existence, and I would give the lives of anyone willing to protect that right to protect it. I myself, am scared shitless of dying, and so would be a terrible defender. [Only partly because I compromise my integrity. The general fear would also just make me a terrible soldier in general, which is not in the best interests of any soldier nearby, or any civilians depending on me. But I digress from the main topic.]
The point I'm trying to make is that Glen Beck, an iconoclast and a pedagogue, is the very opposite of the type of men who founded this country, the parts of those men that have come into history since their deaths, that were only in the smallest sense a part of them and we have constructed as more altruistic versions of themselves. Glenn Beck is everything visceral and human and weak about the founding fathers. He is the ones who asked Washington to be their King.
That Glenn Beck would compare himself in any way to George Washington is an insult to anyone who carries a quarter in their pocket.
The following persons have come into my store in the year since I've worked there:
Egon Spengler, married to an aging Miss Congeniality:
Character actor and the dick boyfriend Jack from Rookie of the Year, Bruce Altman:
Jerry Stiller, Ben Stiller's dad:
Michael Moronna, a.k.a "Big Pete," except as a baby:
I have counted up to 4 different Tim Robbinses.
Tall Don Knotts:
Commissioner Gordon (animated series version)"
Nite Owl II, DanDreiberg:
Saul from Battlestar Galactica:
And as of last night, Latino Michael J. Fox, Michél Hay. Zorro:
I can't believe Michael J. Fox has never been photographed wearing a sombrero.
That's right, "Zorro" meant "The Fox." Your mind is blown. Now to double that: Latino Michael J. Fox's real name was also Michael. Boom. Now have a cigarette, roll over, and fall asleep.
Come on down to Barnes & Noble in Mohegan Lake tomorrow for Star Wars Reads Day, a cross-publisher celebrations of childhood wonder and literacy. We'll be hosting events and prizes, all dressed up to be awesome-slash-ridiculous.
In honor of that, here are three Star Wars jokes I just made up and they are truly, truly corny. Perfect for the children we are trying to teach to love IV-VI and loathe I-III, just like we held our parents' prejudices ourselves.
Q: How many Sith lords does it take to change a lightsaber?
A: Two. Always two, there are.
Q: Why did the Wookie cross the road?
A: Why ever he wanted to, no one's gonna stop him.
Q: Ponda Baba and an R5-unit walk into a bar. The bartender points at the droid and says to Baba, "Your droid, we don't serve their kind here. You'll have to secure it outside." Baba says, "Could you give me a hand?"
Bill O'Reilly's new book Killing Kennedy came out today. It is the follow-up to Killing Lincoln, a book he also "wrote" "with" (read: "all work likely done by") Martin Dugard.
Bill, stop wanting to kill presidents. Just stop, okay?
You're getting a little obvious. Next I'll walk in on you torturing the neighbors' interns or tearing the legs off a junior lobbyist. Then you'll be cutting the eyes out of photos of founding fathers.
Listen, Bill, all I'm saying is you swap out the names, and you're getting dangerously close to your next book being an out-and-out Obama assassination murder fantasy slam-journal, and that's the kind of malarkey that lands you a trip to see the high school psychologist.
Just cut your thigh, talk to the "dark" girls about futility and The Smiths, and get on with your life. I promise you, college will get a lot better.
What the grown-ups don't tell you is that the Giving Tree's stump was later torn up and mulched at a factory, where it was pulped, pressed, bleached and turned into binding to print copies of Melodie Beattie's self-help book "Codependent No More."
It was all a massive conspiracy to cyclically keep the publishing industry afloat. Truth is, man hasn't actually needed the written word since 1802. It's all a game being played out hundreds of moves in advance between the warring clans Simon and Schuster.
Recently at work we discovered Star Wars Reads Day, a national day of events for major retailers celebrating childhood reading through Star Wars, because Star Wars is awesome. Every publisher having anything to do with the franchise works together because it's Star Wars.
That's ridiculous. And possible collusion, really.
Anyway, we got tasked with doing a whole bunch of things Saturday, October 6th for this, and–being the giant nerd I am–I was all over it, to such an extent they've put me in charge of running the shebang.
Adventures in getting permissions and a budget such aside, I get paid to do this:
And design large childrens games like this:
Somewhere deep inside me, the little boy who won the kids trivia contest at Celebration I in Denver, CO back in May of 1999 is screaming in excitement and trying to figure out how he can enter the raffle too.
Sometimes, you know you're exactly where you're supposed to be in life. Especially when there's twin suns to light your way.
"Zucker’s observations hit the mark precisely.…Girlpants and Gasoline sheds light on our collective (self-)consciousness." - Lily Ackerman, Phi Beta Kappa Key Reporter
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