what i know

In Which I Lament My Dwindling Faith in Humanity

2011-03-21T13:57:00.002-06:00

Lament #94

IHOP Chicken and Waffles. I tried to imagine the hierarchy of lavishly compensated executives who had to buy off on this at multiple levels and I got too depressed.

Witness:

In Which I Lament My Dwindling Faith In Humanity

2010-09-13T21:17:00.000-06:00

Lament #241

One part of my job is to direct photo shoots for my company's catalogs, magazines, etc. During a location shoot at a lush public garden, my crew and I set up a table with some expensive facial creams on a decorative tablecloth. We then moved 30-40 feet away to take a different shot, intending to shoot the creams next.

Three fifty-ish women were strolling through the garden, saw our little table, and walked right up to it. Despite the fact that a camera crew was within shouting distance and very obviously taking pictures of products, these women proceeded to open the creams, smear them on their faces and then WIPE THEIR GREASY HANDS ON THE TABLECLOTH. They then walked away, certainly smelling a bit more fragrant for their efforts, but taking yet another piece of my ever-shrinking faith in mankind with them.

Uncanny Resemblance

2010-07-03T23:18:00.003-06:00

Riley took this great pic of my little buddy getting his giggle on. It seemed somehow familiar to me, so I did a bit of searching on the internet to see if I could figure out where I had seen something like this before. Turns out I had:

Sawyer

2010-05-09T19:02:00.004-06:00

Sawyer William Smith is here. He was born on May 3, weighed 6 1/2 pounds and was 18 inches long. In my informed and completely unbiased opinion, he's one of the cutest babies...ever. I will permit no disputations.

For your consideration:

Baby's on his Way

2010-05-03T02:43:00.002-06:00

About to head to the hospital.

How did this happen to me? Where did those 9 months go? How much underwear should I pack? What if the kid's not cute? Will he need braces? I hope he goes to junior prom. There's no way he's living with me after thirty. Make that twenty. Maybe his first word will be "awesome". Please let him be cute. Other assorted pre-parental panicked thoughts...

In Which I Lament My Dwindling Faith In Humanity

2010-04-30T17:26:00.004-06:00

Lament #26

Paramount Pictures has passed on financing Anchorman 2, but just greenlit a movie based on The Magic 8 Ball toy. I'm in a glass case of emotion just thinking about it.

It's Like They Know Me

2010-02-16T23:50:00.002-07:00

Much as I adore the written word, it does have its limitations. The tone and nuance of speech can make the same statement have VERY different meanings, and is something that can never be properly conveyed on the page or screen. Until now.

Enter the enterprising minds behind the SarcMark. These punctuation pioneers have created the solution to every snide writer's dilemma. Want to ensure that your readers (even the slow ones) grasp the gasp-worthy grandeur of your wit and snark? Simply toss a SarcMark at the end of the phrase and instant comprehension is your reward. $1.99 was never better spent.

As you can never have too many on hand, I've bought 4,000 of these so far. That ought to last the month, I think. Maybe I should make it 5,000...

(Love) Can Be

2010-02-15T00:57:00.006-07:00

In the spirit of Valentine's Day, you get a bit of (possibly sappy) verse. By "you", I mean Riley. Love you, B.G.

(Love) Can Be

Can be chilling, can be heat
Can be acrid, can be sweet

Can be mourning, can be dance
Can be timid, can be chance

Can be flowing, can be trickle
Can be faithful, can be fickle

Can be when, can be where
Can be touch, can be stare

Can be spoken, can be hushed
Can be stagnant, can be rushed

Can be able, can be lame
Can be hubris, can be shame

Can be tumult, can be stable
Can be gospel, can be fable

Can be brilliant, can be dim
Can be her, can be him

Can be lucid, can be pall
Can be never, can be all

TTFN Coco

2010-01-22T23:52:00.010-07:00

I promise this isn't turning into a television blog, though you'd never know it by the last few posts. I honestly don't even watch very much T.V. Those shows I do watch, however, seem to be getting quite a bit of news of late. Which brings us to the latest dearly departed show that I loved: Conan O'Brien's.

I'm not going to rehash all the NBC/Leno drama, which I'm sure everyone is as sick to death of as I am. The bottom line is that television has (at least temporarily) lost one of its greatest talents. Conan is one of the funniest and most brilliant people on the planet, and it's a shame he was never given the chance to really find his groove on The Tonight Show.

Not just a funny man, but a class act as well, Conan took some time on tonight's show (his last) to say a few words to his fans. Here's what the pasty Irishman decided was the best thing to leave his viewers with before jamming to "Freebird" with Will Ferrell:

"All I ask of you is one thing: please don't be cynical. I hate cynicism -- it's my least favorite quality and it doesn't lead anywhere. . . Nobody in life gets exactly what they thought they were going to get. But if you work really hard and you're kind, amazing things will happen."

Not a bad thought, Coco. Not bad at all.

p.s.

As a bonus to tonight's post, and to ease the sting a bit, you get an amazing clip from Conan's late night show. Enjoy.

Lost=Awesome

2010-01-09T16:14:00.003-07:00

How awesome is Lost, which will come to an end this year after six twisty, brilliant seasons? Lost is so awesome that the president is scheduling his State of the Union speech around the final season's premiere. That, friends, is how awesome this show is.

RIP FOTC

2009-12-10T22:58:00.004-07:00

A moment of silence, please.

Thank you. The two New Zealanders behind one of the quirkiest, cleverest and funniest shows in television history have pulled the plug on their creation. Bret and Jemaine, who play Bret and Jemaine (respectively) on their show announced today that there will not be a third season of Flight of the Conchords.

Fellow FOTC fans will understand my sadness and share my grief. For the rest of you, this clip is but the minutest sample of the low-fi goodness that was Flight of the Conchords. Lament with me, brothers and sisters--our great series is dead.

Mini-Me

2009-12-03T21:42:00.003-07:00

Five months from today, my world (and possibly the world at large--you never know) is going to be irrevocably changed. You see, Riley and I have decided to take the good book's counsel to "be fruitful and multiply" literally and have bought an orchard in central Washington state.

Just kidding. We're having a baby.

Yup, I've created my replacement. On or around May 3rd of next year, the miracle of birth and all its accompanying yuckyness will take place in the Smith house (or a hospital, preferably). There are few times in your life when you experience 27 different emotions at once, but hearing your wife say "Well, it's positive," from the bathroom at 6 a.m. is definitely one of them.

What kind of dad will I be, you ask? If my performance as an uncle is any indication at all, then I will be eminently awesome. At least that's what I keep telling myself, because seriously, what else can I do at this point?

I would say my feelings toward fatherhood fall under the auspices of "cautiously optimistic". I'm excited, but yikes! A completely helpless, amazing, writhing, beautiful, pungent, adorable, expensive, cuddly, lachrymose miniature human is going to come screaming (pun probably intended) into my life. And the little guy/gal will be totally dependent on me (and Riley a little, I suppose).

It's going to be a wild ride, but I think I can handle it. C'mon, parenthood: show me what you've got!

It's an Ad, Ad World

2009-10-26T19:23:00.004-06:00

I was trying to watch the trailer for the upcoming Twilight movie the other day (don't ask why--it had something to do with Riley), and I noticed an interesting and alarming new phenomenon. After I clicked on the trailer link, a message popped up to tell me that I needed to watch a short message from Downy before my video would play.

Irritated, I went back to the original page and tried it again. This time Cover Girl needed thirty seconds of my life before I could access the video. I tried going back and re-clicking one more time: Microsoft. Several other websites forced the same thing on me. Disgusted, I slammed the laptop forcefully shut and threw it from me.

Is this what we've come to? In order to watch what is, when it comes down to it, an advertisement for a film, we now must watch ANOTHER ad to earn it. Really? The logic (and implications) of this are mind-boggling.

Later, as I pondered this and browsed the "new laptops" section of Amazon, I thought about the movie I went to this summer that had 24(!) minutes of ads and previews before the movie started. I paid full price for the film, which means I actually spent money to watch almost a half-hour of advertisements. I spent even more if you count all the blatant product placements in the film. There's no giant remote in the movie theater to switch the screen over to another channel.

These are just two more examples of ad creep infiltrating our lives. It's only going to get worse, I'm afraid. Maybe I should just give up and become like this guy. It's where the world seems to be going anyway.

The Rent Rant

2009-10-12T12:17:00.004-06:00

One of the perks of my Inside Redbox gig is that I have a forum to occasionally broadcast my opinion to a fairly large audience. This last week, I put up a rant about the declining sales of movies on disc and why I think that's happening. A few of you might be interested in this topic, so here's the editorial in its entirety:

It’s no secret that the DVD retail industry is in trouble. Disc sales have posted double-digit declines this year, and studios are panicked and looking around for a scapegoat. I want to discuss one bright spot in all the gloom: rentals. As we have discussed in earlier posts, while sales of discs have been dropping, rentals are up.

Despite a prolonged recession that has stifled most other sectors, box office receipts are actually on track to beat last year’s. This, combined with the uptick in rentals suggests a simple fact: people are still WATCHING movies, they just don’t want to OWN them anymore.

The following reasons help offer an explanation, in my opinion, of why the viewing public (myself included) has lost much of its interest in purchasing movies. Whether you agree, disagree or think of additional reasons that I don’t mention, let us know your opinion in the comments. Here we go:

Renting Just Makes More Sense
In the early 2000s, I went to work building my DVD library with vigor. Each Sunday I would scan the ad inserts in the paper from Best Buy and Circuit City to see which movies were coming out on disc and were “on sale” for $15-$18. More often than not, I would buy several of them. Looking back now, I have no idea why.

Of the several hundred movies I own or have owned on DVD, there are maybe a dozen I’ve watched enough times to justify their purchase price. I try not to think about how much I would have saved if I’d had my current “enlightened” attitude towards renting in my misspent youth. Unless I absolutely LOVE a film I’ve seen in theaters or rented and know I’ll rewatch it over the years, it’s just not worth the price of the DVD (or Blu-ray now). Only three or four movies a year make that cut, and my wallet is all the heavier for the (belated) triumph of reason in my movie-watching habits.

TV has Upped its Game
I’m not talking about The Hills, five nights of primetime Jay Leno a week (Seriously, NBC? FIVE nights?) or other disasters.

No, I’m talking about The Sopranos, The Wire, Lost, Mad Men and other outstanding shows of the last ten years or so. These are well-written, well-acted cinematic shows with a scope and production values previously only seen in films. While there have always been a few excellent serial dramas on TV, the last decade has seen the blurring of the silver screen and the small screen in a big way. Discerning television viewers now expect more from their favorite shows, and much of the magical “movie-ness” of feature films has worn off as superior fare has been created for TV. The result is that many, many Hollywood films now pale in comparison to the best television shows in recent memory. Why buy DVDs when you already have access to often-superior entertainment through your cable or dish?

Quantity over Quality
Now we come to it, the real reason why most movies today aren’t worth owning: they suck. One of the most frequent comments made on this website is that people don’t feel like plunking down their hard-earned cash to buy the crap films studios are churning out. And churning them out, they are. According to the MPAA, the number of films released domestically last year climbed to 610. 610!

An amazing film is a rare thing: a perfect storm where a great story, visionary director, talented actors and crew and supportive studio execs come together to create something truly outstanding. Such films don’t come along that often, and studios are businesses, with employees to pay and investors to satisfy. Thus they have to take a “more is more” approach to pay the bills, cranking out sequels, remakes and other formulaic drivel to make payroll and keep the lights on. Out of the ten highest-grossing films of all time, EIGHT of them are sequels or prequels. Risk is expensive, and in most cases a studio will go with a proven and/or cheap commodity, whether or not it’s the right choice “artistically”. The result is a bloated release slate, with only the occasional film worth the expense of purchasing.

What really bothers me, though, is that the public often rewards studios’ indifference to quality by making this behavior profitable. If I’m a studio exec who wants to keep my job and my cushy lifestyle, I’m going to greenlight the projects that get the most “bang for the buck”. Why spend several hundred million on a lavish period piece or compelling drama when I can toss out $26 million for Paul Blart: Mall Cop and watch it earn more than $180 million? There’s a reason why we get an endless parade of Scary Movie/Tyler Perry/Meet the Spartans-type pablum: they’re cheap and people pay to see them. They don’t appear nearly as interested, however, in owning them when the time comes. (Why people pay cinema prices to see those movies in the first place is a debate for another day.) Perhaps if potential DVD buyers felt that they had higher quality options, they’d be more willing to part with their cash. It might hurt studios at the front end, but there could be some serious payoff at the back end.

Even in tough financial times, people will pay to own a product they perceive is offering them value. Until Hollywood figures that out, Netflix, VOD and Redbox will continue to benefit from my (and your) buyer’s apathy. That, Insiders, is why we rent.

Who's Inside Redbox? Me.

2009-09-23T11:49:00.004-06:00

As you may know, I do a fair amount of freelance work, which if nothing else has taught me that there is always a market for snark. I recently started a new gig that I think is pretty cool.

Some of you may have heard of/visited Inside Redbox. This is the top online community site for Redbox users across the country. It has all the latest Redbox info: news, codes, new releases, etc. It's a cool site, and has gotten pretty popular over the last few years.

Back to me. Last week I was hired on to be the site's writer. Now, if you just can't get enough of me here, mosey on down to Inside Redbox and read my latest movie world-related postings. Heck, even if you can't stand me or my scribblings (and I don't blame you a bit if that's the case), head over there anyway because it's such a great site.

Beatlemania 2009

2009-09-04T21:58:00.004-06:00

The Beatles were the very first band that I really got into. I mean REALLY got into. When the last great wave of Beatlemania swept the nation fifteen years ago with the release of the Anthology albums and movies, my young teenage mind was exploded by how "cool" their old school sound still was and what amazing songwriters they were. My room was soon plastered with posters of the Liverpool lads in the crosswalk in front of Abbey Road studios, I bought A Hard Day's Night and Help! on VHS and I spent my limited funds buying up EVERY Beatles album ever released.

In a few days, on 9/9/09, Beatlemania comes back once again. All of the albums have been lovingly remastered and will be re-released in sparkling digital clarity. This, of course means I'm going to have to drop another two hundred bucks on songs I already own, just because they're going to sound a little bit sweeter and smoother. The crazy thing is, I don't mind a bit.

If you're not a Beatles fan, now's the time to dip your toe in the water, and then you'll understand. These guys truly deserved all the hype and fame and (over)exposure. Their songs helped shape rock and roll from the sixties through the present day, and they are just as catchy, melodic and brilliant as they were forty-odd years ago.

All apologies to Viva la Vida, Achtung Baby, Dark Side of the Moon, Who's Next and the rest, but none of them can touch Abbey Road's perfection as an album. Sgt. Pepper, Revolver and the White Album aren't far behind.

So if you already appreciate the Fab Four like I do, I'll see you in line on Wednesday. If not, use this chance to add "Hey Jude", "Come Together" and "A Day in the Life" to the soundtrack of your life. Your ears will thank you.

Up to the Minotaur

2009-08-28T23:27:00.004-06:00

I adore razor-sharp writing that can make you laugh a little and cry a little at the same time. This spot-on satirical video from The Onion does exactly that.

The subject of the discussion is absolutely ridiculous (and hilarious), but many of the panel's comments are paraphrasing points actually made by pundits during recent ethical debates about torture. So scarily close to the truth that it's funny, or is it the other way around?

Is Using A Minotaur To Gore Detainees A Form Of Torture?

In Which I Lament My Dwindling Faith In Humanity

2009-08-28T15:12:00.004-06:00

Lament #202

Tens of millions are unemployed, banks are failing, the economy's on life support, we're mired in two fantastically bloody and expensive wars and this is currently the most popular article on Time.com. Really, humanity?

Feelin' Blu

2009-08-26T19:23:00.004-06:00

I've made a huge mistake. And I know of no better venue to discreetly reveal my errors than the cozy intimacy of the world wide web. Here's the deal:

We recently upgraded to a nice big plasma TV, and part of the deal that I got on it was that it came with a Blu-ray player. I'd been looking at getting one for a while, so this seemed like a great time to take the plunge. (Cue ominous music)

Blu-rays on a huge HD screen are an epiphany. After we finished The Dark Knight the other day, I just sat and wept at the beauty of it all. After watching a hi-def movie on a hi-def TV, I can finally say it: we are now living in the future.

"What's the problem, then?" you are probably asking right about now. It's simple: once you've tasted the sweet sweet digital nectar that is Blu-ray, all of your regular DVDs look like crap. I look at the collection that was perfectly awesome last week, and I don't want to have anything to do with it now. And since Blu-rays still cost $10 or $15 more apiece than regular DVDs, I won't be switching my entire collection over anytime soon. This is the part where you start feeling sorry for me.

It's like buying a Ferrari and discovering every road's a work zone. It's like going to Ruth's Chris and just eating a roll. It's what it must feel like to be Chuck Norris every day.

It's really true what they say: once you go Blu, you never go back. Learn from my fate, and consider yourself warned.

Now for today's INTERESTING SCIENCE FACT: The above image is not Photoshopped--there really are blue lobsters. Don't believe me? Go get your Wiki on.

DOs and DON'Ts: Camping

2009-08-08T22:50:00.003-06:00

Just got back from another epic camping trip. I have now washed away the stink of nature and reacquainted myself with my precious cell phone and laptop. Is it wrong to love inanimate objects slightly more than a pet and slightly less than a sibling? Just askin'.

As always, camping was a great time to learn valuable lessons that aren't to be had anywhere else. I present the following DOs and DON'Ts in the hopes that my time in the woods can be as enlightening for you as it was for me.

DO take time to appreciate the little things: singing birds, the wind whistling through the pines, the frigid embrace of the rocky ground as your air mattress gradually deflates during the night.

DON'T bother even trying to wear deodorant on a three-day camping trip. When it's matched against the smell of burnt marshmallows, sunscreen, sweat, Deep Woods Off, campfire smoke, river fish and kerosene, do you really think Right Guard stands a chance? Please.

DO resist the urge to savagely murder your in-laws when they start laughing and chatting at 6:30 a.m. in their tent pitched four feet from yours.

DON'T become too attached to your brand-new waders. They will be punctured by a hidden stick .5 miles into your three-mile hike and slowly fill with icy water the rest of the afternoon. The laws of the universe decree it must be so.

DO realize that a common brown trout is smarter than a college-educated human being and will mockingly swim in circles as you pass your carefully tied fly over his head again and again.

Into the Woods

2009-08-04T12:05:00.004-06:00

It's that time again: our annual three-day camping trip with Riley's family. A time that I, a grown, vain man will spend the entirety of dressed like this:

Last year's trip taught me some very valuable life lessons (http://whatshaneknows.blogspot.com/2008/08/things-that-camping-taught-me-about.html). I can only hope this year is equally instructive.

And so I'm off, into an ominous cloud of bug spray and spotty cell phone reception. If I'm not back to blogging by Sunday, dear readers, please send the authorities to Huntington, Utah. Tell them to look for a skinny white guy weeping like a child and cowering under a "bear shield" made of broken branches and shredded tent nylon. He'll be defiantly clutching a bag of uneaten beef jerky (gross!).

The Future

2009-07-28T21:14:00.005-06:00

The future's a funny thing. A shifting, murky, intimidating thing. I often think about mine, and what's in store for me in the coming years.

I recently discovered a website that will take a picture you've uploaded and use computer magic to tell you what you'll look like in fifty years. Would you like to see what Shane looks like in 2059? I thought so...

Wait for it....

I hate technology.

What I Want

2009-07-23T19:19:00.011-06:00

I think we all have them: little lists in our head of the things we want. No matter how happy and content you are with your life, there are still probably a couple of things that would make it just a little more complete.

For today's purposes, I'm not talking about "peace on earth" or "publishing a novel" or "inventing the next Heimlich Maneuver". Dreams, schemes and goals are all well and good, but this list is tangible, material possessions only.

So today, you get a peek at my most-wanted list, or at least a bit of it. Some items are going to be a little tough to get, others are more within reach. All are awesome:

The white suit John Lennon wore on the cover of "Abbey Road".

The Bluth family's stair car from "Arrested Development".

A "Star Wars" Tauntuan sleeping bag.

An American Deluxe Fender Stratocaster.

The actual setlist paper from a Coldplay concert that I attend (preferably autographed).

A gold-plated MacBook.

Craig Ferguson Speaks the Truth (With an Accent!)

2009-07-22T10:23:00.010-06:00

I don't regularly watch Craig Ferguson's show, but every now and then he will come out with a keen and clever commentary that really grabs my attention.

Please devote the next three minutes of your life to his spot-on rant on the folly of modern society's obsession with youth. Amen and amen, Craig.

In Which I Lament My Dwindling Faith In Humanity (Ongoing)

2009-07-14T00:21:00.000-06:00

Lament # 16

Three words: Swine Flu Parties.

p.s. The fact that the man pictured above appears to have a creepy face on the back of his head is in no way relevant to the post. It is just a bonus.

Twitter Jitters

2009-07-10T17:50:00.001-06:00

Now it comes to it: I am actually considering becoming a Twitter-er. For both of you out there who don't know what Twitter is, the simplest explanation is that it combines the basic idea of a blog with the brevity and immediacy of texting. For some reason, the powers-that-be chose the goofy name "Twitter" over my much classier suggestion, "Blexting".

The messages you type on Twitter are called "tweets" and you have "followers" who sign up to read your musings. You can tweet as often as you like (some people do it every five or ten minutes!) and the only limit is that your tweets cannot be longer than 140 characters.

Why Twitter, you ask? That's an excellent question. I really don't know, other than the fact that it seems kind of cool for some reason. The problem is, I'M not that interested in a lot of the day-to-day parts of my life. Why would I want to inflict that on others? For you see, the vast majority of tweets are not earth-shattering epiphanies. Most tweets tend to talk about the weather, or the selection of breakfast cereal that morning or whether Tide or Cheer made the cut at the laundromat. In other words, most tweets are really lame and really dull.

If I were to Twitter, though, please know that I would bring the spice. My tweets would be gripping, explosive and make you beg for more. Some samples of what my future tweets might be like:

"We're removing the plutonium core from the bomb right now. My partner's giving me dirty looks--I really should be using both hands for this. LOL!"

"Well, that's the eighth orphan I've pulled out of the burning building. I really hope that's all of them, because that roof could collapse at any second!"

"Things I did today: vacuumed the rug, ironed four shirts, disproved the Theory of Relativity, found that missing Gold-Toe sock behind the dryer."

"Man, I'd heard it before, but I guess you just have to experience it for yourself. Grizzly bears are strong!"

"I had to dig the bullet out of my shoulder with my own bare hands, but at least the president is OK. Shane: 1 Terrorists: 0."

In Which I Lament My Dwindling Faith In Humanity (Ongoing)

2009-07-06T22:49:00.000-06:00

Lament #84

Walking into the gym today, I saw the same car circle the parking lot three times looking for the absolutely closest space possible.

Your Age

2009-06-30T11:25:00.001-06:00

It finally happened yesterday: someone used the dreaded "your age" reference with regards to ME. I let it pass for the sake of appearances, but I was a cauldron of seething rage inside. Here's the skinny:

We were in the car with my 23-year-old brother-in-law and he asked me if I'd seen the new "Transformers" movie yet. I replied that I hadn't, as I'd been so let down by the first one's deconstruction of my childhood icons.

The insouciant boy then replied, "Yeah, a guy I work with is about your age, and he said the same thing." My eyes flared open in disbelief. Was the dial on my hearing aid not turned to "loud and squeaky"? Had this whey-cheeked upstart really just called me out on my advancing years? I began to fumble around on the floor for my cane to administer some old school justice on his still-cone-shaped-from-birth head.

Then a thought slowly wended its way through my ancient neurons: this walking ultrasound hadn't meant to give his elder "the sauce". I'm sure he had no idea the effect his callous remark would have on my wizened emotions. Nothing going on here but the folly of youth on full display.

So, demonstrating my decades of accumulated wisdom and forbearance, I let it pass. He fell quiet, no doubt musing on the relative advantages of various Otter Pops flavors and wondering what time Pokemon was on.

To him, and to all smug teens and twentysomethings out there, I paraphrase another icon of my '80s childhood: "When 30 years of age you reach, look as good you will not."

Turns Out Bob's Sled is Pretty Fast

2009-06-22T21:01:00.000-06:00

What constitutes both the fastest and the longest sixty-five seconds of your life? A ride down the bobsled track at the Olympic Park. My entire body is still tingling.

Drive-by Fruiting

2009-04-16T12:00:00.000-06:00

My cousin, brother and I recently decided that the refreshingly warm weather and snow-free mountain trails demanded that we head to the hills. With guns!

Warning: The following depictions of the wholesale slaughter of innocent fruit with hollow-point rounds are not for the faint of heart.

The mighty hunter and his vanquished victims.

Treachery!

Requiem for a cantaloupe.

Superheroes

2009-03-05T21:20:00.000-07:00

You can't watch TV for two minutes or go to more than two websites without seeing an ad for the new Watchmen superhero movie. Seriously, this thing is EVERYWHERE. As I watched an ad the other night and observed the variety of latex, rubber, goggles, blue paint, etc. that are requisite for any self-respecting superhero's wardrobe, I got to thinking. If I were a superhero, what would I be? Would I use my powers for good or evil? What would my name be? How would I dress? A few suggestions:

HEROES

Captain Good
Most heroes are named after critters (bats, spiders, wolverines), or their abilities (super, wonder, green). One option for me would be to just have a generic, catch-all name and be a generic, catch-all kind of hero. With Captain Good, you're getting a nice, plain vanilla guy who's just out to do you a solid. He probably won't swoop in and catch you as you plunge from a skyscraper, or use his freezing breath to put out your electrical fire, but he will vacuum your carpets while you're out and replace your Glade Plug-Ins. And at the end of the day, which dire situation do you think more people need saving from: being held captive by a super villain at the top of the Statue of Liberty, or forgetting to pick up the dry cleaning on Saturday night? Citizens everywhere will sleep just a little more soundly knowing that Captain Good, clad in his white J.C. Penney shirt and pleated Dockers, is on the prowl.

Other possible hero identities:

The Swab
Six feet, two inches of soft cottony goodness. Blots out evil with his absorbent yet fluffy head. The bane of filthy ear canals everywhere.

Gun Show Glen
Always clad in an orange vest, camouflage, green plaid and a mesh John Deere hat that is the source of his power. This bearded tower of Red State power battles every day against the forces that want to take away your rights to automatic weapons, swollen bellies and smelling like jerky.

Other heroic identities I considered and discarded:

The Taffy Puller
The Baconator (name was already taken!)
Mister Right Now
& (also known as Ampersand)

VILLAINS:

The Incredible Sulk
Not really very dangerous. Just sits around in his room and throws his shoes at the door. His weaknesses include Cocoa Puffs, hugs, and newly hatched baby chicks.

Dr. Psoriasis
Causes itchy feelings and occasional flakiness in all he comes in contact with. Can only be defeated by his arch-nemesis, Captain Corticosteroid.

Other evil identities I considered and discarded:

Damaged Goods
The Unwelcome Masseuse
Potty Mouth
Puppy Kicker
The Nubbin

Try it for yourself - it's fun! Please also note that for some reason many superhero names would also make great punk band names.

Ode to February (Ode in this sense being a short form of Odious)

2009-02-12T22:42:00.000-07:00

Today you get some original poetry about that most obnoxious of months, the one in whose vile clutches we currently find ourselves. Calvin of Calvin & Hobbes fame once called February "the armpit of the year". Well said, sir. Well said.

Ode to February

Two fortnights in length, so unspeakably bleak
Each hour's a day, each day seems a week
The land stricken and barren, the air frigid and raw
Viscous and vicious, still awaiting Spring's thaw

A fell shadow lies ever, o'er skies never blue
The world robed in ashes, steel winter's grey hue
Release me! I cry, from this impenetrable shroud
One sliver of light, one respite from cloud

Never! you hiss from your dark glacial soul
Most cursed of months, you've exacted your toll
Of my humanity, sanity, thou villain most arch
But your reign's finally ended, come the first day of March

Let's all say it together now: February sucks!

Sick Head

2009-01-15T20:47:00.000-07:00

Is it just me, or is everyone sick? I know it's that time of year and all, but right now it's different, somehow. People that I usually can count on as stalwarts of unassailable health have fallen ill. Disgustingly, drippingly ill. I myself have not been immune, having to call in sick yesterday for the first time in a long, long time.

I hate calling in sick. I hate the confinement of the house that I come to loathe as the hours slowly pass. I hate knowing that e-mails are stacking up in a quivering electronic pile, those little beige envelopes glowing accusingly at me when I finally go back to work. I hate getting that same guilty feeling I got in fifth grade when I would exaggerate a cough to my mom in order to stay in bed with Coke, saltines and Calvin & Hobbes books. But most of all, I hate what my mind does when I stay home sick.

As I lay in bed yesterday, staring up at the ceiling and wondering when death's sweet embrace would come, I started thinking about my life. My fevered brain started going through all the things that have happened over the years. People I've known, stuff that I've done, feelings I've acted and not acted on. I began to ask myself THE QUESTIONS. You know what they are:

Is this it? Is this where I wanted my life to be at this point? What should I/could I have done differently? Is this, to quote Jack Nicholson, as good as it gets?

The answer I gave myself was surprising, yet very Shane-like: yes and no. As always, I could see both sides of the issue. I have a good life; a great wife, supportive family and friends, a solid career. But I also felt like I wasn't quite there yet. It seems like there are a few more of life's sweet fruits that I'm still not picking.

I don't usually get all introspective in my blog, but here it is: I'm going to turn up the awesome in my life. It's not a new year's resolution - it's a new life resolution. Things are pretty good, but I know they can be truly great. It's all in here. I'm going to try new things, have more adventures, and cram more living into life. Interesting what a not-really-so-near-death experience will do to you. Wish me luck.

He's Makin' a List...

2008-12-21T17:14:00.000-07:00

I've been bitten by the year-end list bug, and decided to post some "top threes" of the stuff that I read, listened to and watched in '08. Here we go:

Top Three Books Read in 2008

1. The Road by Cormac McCarthy
It's not for everyone. It's bleak, haunting, and almost heartbreaking at times. But few books I've ever read have affected me so much or stayed with me so long. You will never quite be the same after reading this. My favorite book by one of my favorite authors.

2. World War Z by Max Brooks
At the opposite end of the spectrum from the previous book, this one is one of the most fun, escapist reads I've had in a long while. Completely fictitious, but almost completely plausible. Just good, clean zombie fun.

3. Guns, Germs and Steel by Jared Diamond
I finally got around to reading this one. An absolutely fascinating look at the development of human societies, and why history has unfolded the way it has. For example: have you ever wondered why the Europeans conquered and colonized the Americas, rather than the other way around?

Top Three Albums of 2008

1. Viva la Vida by Coldplay
Not much more I can say here than that all the hype is true. The greatest album of 2008. Period. I saw these guys in concert last month, and they ran up into the seats and played an acoustic set ten feet from us. Surreal doesn’t begin to describe it.

2. Tie between The Glass Passenger by Jack’s Mannequin and Day & Age by The Killers
Two bands that just seem to get better with each album. Both just have a knack for sweet, sweet melody. Love it.

3. Prospekt’s March EP by Coldplay
I know, I know – more Coldplay. But have you listened to this? This mini-album gets more musical ideas across in 25 minutes than most bands do in a full length or double album.

Top Three Movies of 2008

1. The Dark Knight
Finally: a comic book movie that doesn’t feel like a comic book. No superpowers, no magical creatures, just a great story and great acting. Heath Ledger went out on top.

2. Wall-E
Only Pixar could make a love story with nearly mute robots as the leads and make it work, and work beautifully. I admit to getting a tear in my eye as Wall-E and Eve circled each other around the ship as the computer described what “dancing” was. Pure poetry.

3. Twilight
Just kidding. I was forced to sit through this disaster, and pointedly remarked to Riley that we could have just sat at the mall and watched teenagers make lustful eyes at each other for two hours and saved twenty bucks. That is ALL that happens in this movie. The dude is a vampire, too, I guess. It also didn't help that I was apparently far too old and far too male to enjoy this film in a theater filled with squealing fourteen-year-old girls.

Highway to Heaven

2008-11-15T23:52:00.000-07:00

Working 30 miles from where I live means I get to participate the daily commute, something I'd heard a lot of griping about but never experienced until now. I don't know if this is common knowledge or not, but it turns out there are a lot of crappy drivers in Utah. I know! It was a shock to me too. Someone had to finally say it.

On my commute, I get to witness first-hand what mankind, that sparkling pinnacle of evolution, is capable of when behind the wheel of several thousand pounds of rapidly moving steel and glass. The following near-death experience just happened last week, and is in no way embellished or exaggerated:

The driver of a truck towing a giant horse trailer apparently didn't think it was worth bothering to make sure the trailer was attached properly when he started out that morning. I was 15 feet from this conscientious individual when the trailer attachment popped off the hitch at 70 mph and started digging a furrow in the asphalt. This sent off a ten-foot high shower of sparks and metal chips that peppered my paint and windshield while the trailer swayed ominously back and forth, held only by the safety chain. Adrenaline surging through my veins, I swerved into the carpool lane and sped around the disaster, watching in my rear view mirror to see if the driver could slow down and pull over before the trailer flipped (he did). My windshield and fender are now cratered with a series of cracks and chips, but frankly I'm just grateful to be alive.

I briefly considered going back and demanding his insurance information, but something told me that the kind of people who tow giant, scary horse trailers are often the kind of people who carry giant, scary guns. It was already clearly not this dude's day, and I decided I didn't want to see myself on the six o'clock news.

Perhaps in the future I'll share with you the terrifying, too true tale of the tailgating, texting teenage girl...

Electile Dysfunction

2008-10-22T21:24:00.000-06:00

It's that time of year again. The air is crisp and smells of autumn leaves, it's getting dark earlier, and it's almost time to vote. As a registered independent, I tend to send a fair amount of snark towards candidates from both parties. Republicans and Democrats are known to do/say a fairly equal amount of stupid stuff, and I often have a hard time deciding who I like less.

This year feels a little different, though, and unless he punches a fawn or gets caught wearing "I Heart Osama" underpants, I think Mr. Obama is going to get my vote. Here are some (admittedly shallow) reasons you should Barack the vote in '08 as well:

Let's be real: do you want a guy who looks like a reanimated corpse running the country?

Sarah Palin, in the grand tradition of such illuminated minds as George W. Bush, believes that we should keep nookyoolar weapons out of the hands of terrorists. Seriously, I know English can be tricky, but this one is actually spelled like it sounds!

McCain=Lord of the Zombies. I cannot stress it enough.

Of the two major party candidates, only Obama seems to be able to actually fully turn towards his opponent and refer to him by name. Is it really so tough, Johnny? He ain't go' bite ya.

"McCain" almost rhymes with "I eat brains". I am not making this up, guys.

Sarah Palin is somehow capable of spending $150,000 of campaign contributions on a new wardrobe, but can't afford a $19.95 hardbound copy of a salon style guide that contains more than one hairdo option.

This picture:

Obama knows how many houses he owns: 1. McCain will need to get back to you on that. That sells really well in an economy-focused election, Mr. Maverick.

A vote for John McCain is a vote for utter and total annihilation by the unspeakable armies of the damned. Did I mention that yet?

Buccaneer Buddy

2008-08-21T20:24:00.000-06:00

This is my nephew, Hunter, who without question is the cutest nephew that can ever be (I've seen your nephew; he's just not as cute. I don't know - maybe it's that tooth thing he has. It's like it's almost a tooth, but it's not. You know? Also: his head's kind of a weird shape).

Anyway, back to my nephew: Hunter is the cutest. He's even cuter when he dresses up like slightly fey pirates with ol' Uncle Shane*. Unfortunately for this photo shoot, earrings were as far as we got before Hunter decided it would be fun to throw toys at my head. But look how cute he is, seriously!

My little buddy just moved to Vallejo, California for three years and I miss him fiercely. Well, we'll always have "Hunter, what does a pirate say?"

Yarrgh, little buddy. Yarrgh indeed.

*Promotional consideration (plastic earrings) provided by Mr. Potato Head (R)

Things that Camping Taught Me about Me

2008-08-03T18:27:00.001-06:00

I just got back from several days of getting up close and personal with Ms. Nature in Huntington, Utah. This was my first camping trip in a while, and as I was driving home in my air-conditioned car listening to my iPod, I reflected on the things I had learned about myself. I now share them with you:

S'mores will always make me want to throw up and die a little inside. I can't even look at them.

The starry expanse of the night sky away from city lights still sends the same little thrill through me that it did when I was a kid. Man, we are SMALL!

I am so pathetically vain that I don't even hesitate to pack cologne and styling wax into my backpack alongside the bug spray and Neosporin.

When I go four-wheeling with a group of seven people, my face will somehow attract more dirt by the end of the trip than the other six combined.

There is nothing on this planet more thrilling and soul-destroyingly boring to me at the same time than fly fishing.

Even when her hair and face are filthy and matted almost beyond recognition by three days of dust, sunscreen and insect repellent, I still think Riley's cute.

My brain becomes so paranoid in the fresh mountain air that it instantly interprets any twig breaking outside of the tent as a 2 a.m., coordinated multi-grizzly attack.

I possess previously unknown horseshoe-throwing skills, and have a "Winner of the Summer 2008 Vuksinick Family Tournament" medal to prove it.

I can only be in camp an hour before the first impulse to check my email strikes.

If I want to guarantee that I wake up in a foul mood, all I need to do is make sure that my face brushes against the clammy condensation on the inside of a sweaty tent at the crack of dawn. It's all downhill from there.

When I stare into a campfire, instead of reflecting on the beauty and romance of the dancing flames, I think about what items would be fun to throw in there and watch explode.

I would have lasted about twenty minutes on the Lewis and Clark expedition.

Revenge of the "The"

2008-07-13T09:42:00.001-06:00

I've noticed a troubling trend of late. It concerns that most common and humble of articles: "the". "The" is an old and faithful friend in the English language, and is one of the first words Dick and Jane taught us. Our friends the Spaniards, among others, hold "the" in such high esteem that they give it a gender. Such an honor! The usually efficient Germans, bless them, take it one step further, adding an unfortunately named "neutered" form of "the" to the masculine and feminine types. What other three-letter word has received such respectful treatment?

Of course, "the" is not without its detractors. The Russians, in the apparent interest of having creepy accented movie villains, have omitted "the" from their vernacular. "Where is rocket launch key to destroy imperialist Americans, comrade?" just wouldn't have the same menace if a "the" or two were involved.

Here in America, though, "the" has a long and proud history. A history that is now being tarnished. You see, back in the old days (pre-1980s), "the" was wielded much more cavalierly than it is today. Our pioneer ancestors were constantly griping to one another about "the consumption", "the bloody flux", or "the conjunctivitis*". It rapidly grew tiresome throwing a "the" in front of every affliction, and soon the word was being used much more sparingly, with the restraint and dignity it so richly deserves.

Fast-forward to today. "The" is now quickly becoming that girl your parents warn you about. You know, the one who's been linked to every noun, proper and otherwise, on the street. "The" is the Elizabeth Taylor of articles. A grammatical polygamist, if you will. And it's got be stopped.

"Let's go to the Wendy's for a Frosty," is something I hear all too often, even from those so near and dear to me. "I hear that Pamela Anderson's got the Hep C," you catch yourself saying to your dry cleaner. "I read a disturbing article in the USA Today," comedian Stephen Colbert will declare on his hit Comedy Central show, completely ignorant to the semantic crime he is committing.

Save the "the", I urge you. It's not too late to rescue this precious resource. Join me in exercising self-control in speech, writing, and thought. Future generations will thank us for preserving a few "the"s for them.

*pinkeye to you and me

The Most Awesome Sequel Ever

2008-07-07T18:54:00.000-06:00

Sometimes stores reuse displays after the original product is sold out. If said displays are restocked by an inattentive/stupid employee, hilarity can ensue.

This is one direct-to-DVD film that I wish the Disney sequel machine had actually pumped out. I would NOT want to be that hunter right now...

So Flippin' Funny

2008-06-26T20:55:00.000-06:00

Few things please me more than well-done satire. LDS humor has been pretty hit and miss (usually miss) for me in this regard. That's why I'm so thrilled to direct you to seriouslysoblessed.blogspot.com. Written by an anonymous and brilliant wit, this site absolutely skewers the young and married LDS blogging world. Utah Valley slang? Check. Abominable grammar and syntax? Check. Sucralose-sweet gushing and hyperbole? Check and Check. I've actually read some of these sentences verbatim on peoples' blogs. Stop by for a minute and enjoy.

WARNING: if you've ever written anything like this in your blog, get ready for a serious case of the blushies.

Viva la Vida

2008-06-18T20:17:00.000-06:00

Every half-decade or so, an album comes along that affects you so deeply that you get stupidly happy just thinking about it. "Abbey Road" by the Beatles is such an album. "Achtung Baby" by U2 is such an album. "Viva la Vida or Death and All his Friends" by Coldplay, released just yesterday, is such an album.

I don't even know where to begin to describe the musical epiphany this record is. My jaw just dropped when I heard the opening notes of the first track, and my mouth stayed slack until the final chords of the last song melted away.

I know it's not very cool to dig Coldplay, but screw it: I have nothing but respect and awe for these four spindly Englishmen. I bought the special edition of the album, which has the CD packaged with a full-size vinyl LP. That's a record, for those of you under forty. I'm a bit baffled at what to do with the record itself, but the huge, anachronistic record sleeve now sits proudly on my bookshelf.

Whatever you're doing, whatever you're listening to right now, stop. Jump on iTunes and download "Viva la Vida". Then put it on some nice speakers in a dark room, close your eyes, and descend into bliss...

Celebrate Good Times

2008-05-13T21:52:00.000-06:00

Gainful employment is mine again. On Monday I start my new job as Communications Program Manager for a company called Unishippers. They're a successful, solid company, and I'm really excited to work with them. The job's going to be challenging and fun, and it's a great opportunity for me.

Wish me luck, and don't worry about a lapse in postings. After all, I didn't post that often even when I had myriads of free time. Keeping expectations low is the secret to success, in blogging as in life.

Gun Show Goggles

2008-04-28T14:34:00.000-06:00

Every few months the "Crossroads of the West" gun show comes to Salt Lake City. I'd been seeing the blazing hunter orange signs advertising it along I-15 for years, but had simply shuddered and driven by. That all changed when I met Riley's family.

They are HARD CORE gun owners. If the government falls and it all goes down, I'm heading to their compound/house in Holladay, Utah and loading up the shootin' irons. Join us at your own risk. The remarkable thing is that you would never guess it by looking at them that they are avid shooters and hunters. I had no idea about the arsenal they are sitting on top of until the day Riley showed me the walk-in gun safe in the basement. As soon as she said the phrase "walk-in gun safe" I knew that these were no ordinary gun owners. As we dated, I went shooting with them several times. To my surprise and my dear mother's consternation, I discovered that I not only enjoyed firearms, but that I actually had a bit of a knack for them. I could bust up clay pigeons and hit the "10" ring with the best of them. Riley's proud father presented me with my first handgun as a college graduation present. My mother took him off her Christmas card list.

One of your responsibilities as a gun owner is to attend the aforementioned gun show as often as possible. I duly accompanied Riley's dad and brothers to a show a couple of years ago, and I've been back several times since. I recently introduced my brother to the dangers and delights of the gun show. As I watched his cherubic face light up at the sight of all the varieties of plaid flannel and facial hair, a thought occurred to me. Something happens to you when you get your hand stamped and enter into that cavernous expo center. Some sort of reality distortion field alters your thinking and makes you do things that would make no sense on the outside. Allow me to explain.

I'm sure you've heard the term "beer goggles". This refers to the fact that under the stupor of alcohol, things (and by things I mean women) that you would find horrifying and grotesque when sober are suddenly appealing and attractive. The LDS world has a similar aphorism: "mission goggles". I submit to you, dear reader, that once you cross the invisible line just behind the NRA table, you have donned a set of gun show goggles (GSG) and should be considered a danger to yourself and those around you.

The pile of gun show detritus in the back of my closet testifies to the fact that I am not immune to the effects of GSG. "I've never had a blowgun," I once thought to myself while under the nefarious fog of GSG. "I can't imagine a future without a blowgun in my life." Shortly thereafter I found myself wondering if I'd made a mistake purchasing a 14" blowgun instead of the 20" like the nice booth man recommended. GSG actually gave me blowgun regret.

"You know what I really need: throwing knives." This is a perfectly normal thought that GSG will sweetly whisper in your ear. "A real man has a Chinese-made, lead-infused, metal airsoft gun," GSG will tell your fevered mind with cool, inescapable logic. You are helpless to resist.

GSG is a cruel mistress. The second you exit the expo center, you will look into the generic yellow plastic bag you're clutching and wonder what in the world just happened. You will look around and make sure nobody you know sees what you are holding. You will lie awake at night thinking about the all the money you just wasted on absolute crap, and swear that it will never happen again. And then, a few months later, there's a bright orange billboard on the freeway...

Musical Musings

2008-04-07T15:48:00.000-06:00

I love music. There's just no getting around it. Music occupies a ridiculous percentage of my computer's hard drive. I've tried to quit; I had a two year hiatus from most of my music that coincided with a 24 month period of ecclesiastical service in the great state of Washington.

It didn't stick. I was a member of BMG (as you were too at the time, remember?) and had CDs sent my missionary apartments. Before you go judging me, know that I did not listen to them, but merely reveled in their cover art for a second before sending them home in boxes to await my imminent return. There was no rule in my mission against desiring, purchasing, and drooling over music--just listening to it. Loopholes, people, loopholes!

I'm not entirely sure why I like music so much. I don't remember having a particulary musical childhood. There were of course the requisite piano lessons, with the age 12 escape clause that I took grateful advantage of. My sweet, dear grandparents presented us with an autoharp one Christmas, apparently with the hopes that it would be strummed alongside many a crackling fire in the years to come. Bless their hearts, it resides in its case under my parent's couch to this day unloved, untouched, and unsung.

I was, however, somehow a part of a singing group that toured such exotic places as Utah's Hogle Zoo. I honestly have no idea how I was ever coerced into wasting my youth in such a troupe of troubadours. I think my mom was friends with the director, which also probably explains how I was ever accepted into a singing group. I only remember two things from my time there: the other group members' unhealthy obsession with Ed Grimley (above), and the all lyrics to that diabolical western song we sang EVERY time we performed, "Ragtime Cowboy Joe". Don't ask me to write them, my fingers tremble over the keys just thinking about it.

I soon parted ways with the singing group, and discovered the virtues of the acoustic guitar, with its unexpected bonus of undeserved female attention. Soon after came my first Beatles album, and the rest, as they say, is history.

So, despite the vile machinations of Martin Short, I stand before you today a musical maven, every ready with a recommendation or snide remark about your favorite band/rapper/High School Musical star.

Dispatch from the Breadlines

2008-03-28T12:09:00.000-06:00

As some of you may be aware, my former employer (hereafter referred to as "The Overpriced Fruit Juice Company That Must Not Be Named" had some layoffs last week. In an unrelated occurence, I suddenly find myself with much more free time.

Worry not, dear readers. I have several promising things in the works and am doing some freelance work to fill the gaps. In the meantime, my loss is your gain, as I now have time to post many more entries than usual. Maybe even two a month! (Don't jinx it!)

Unemployment has been especially difficult for dear Riley. She is pictured above with our three filthy yet adorable chillins in a photograph taken last Tuesday. She was used to having me around for just a few hours on weeknights and weekends. Now that I'm here both when she leaves and when she gets home, I've noticed a distinct decline in her enthusiasm for my presence. I do believe that my novelty is wearing off! Can it be that my awesomeness is best experienced in small doses?

As a result of these distressing developments, I'm extra motivated to regain employment, if for nothing else than the sake of our declining relationship. I sent out three resumes today, baby, I promise!

Book Review: The Not-So-Great Gatsby

2008-03-17T20:24:00.001-06:00

I’m probably one of the more avid readers that I know, devouring about a book a week in a good month. I recently decided that for every bestseller (read: brain junk food) I read, I needed to balance my mental diet with something a bit more substantial. If you consider "The Da Vinci Code" to neatly straddle the line between both worlds, please stop reading now.

In the literary morass that was my high school and college education, I read more than my fair share of “classics”. Some, it seemed to me, were far more deserving of that accolade than others. "The Grapes of Wrath", "To Kill a Mockingbird", and "Animal Farm" inspired me and made me think about and question my views of the world. On the other hand, "My Antonia" and "Red Badge of Courage" made me want to stab my eyes out by page 20.

Somehow, one “classic” novel managed to never pop up on any of my reading lists or syllabi: "The Great Gatsby". That’s right, someone as (supposedly) well-read as I am made it through primary and secondary education without reading F. Scott Fitzgerald’s great American novel. I’d heard of it, of course, and figured it was good in that same vague way you figure opera is awesome, compelling art but have no intention of ever seeing one. However, with my new resolve to work great literary pieces into my reading rotation, last week I proudly walked out of the local library with Fitzgerald’s thin tome tucked under my arm. I figured it would be a quick, enjoyable way to start on the road to intellectual pretentiousness. There was just one little hiccup, though.

It sucks. "The Great Gatsby" sucks. There's no getting around it. I HATED it. From its mind-numbingly dull beginning to its bizarre murder-suicide finale, there wasn’t a single drop of literary value to be had in its pages. I kept reading and reading and telling myself, “Surely something that justifies “classic” is going to pop up any time now.” Alas, it was not to be. Teachers and professors who rhapsodize about its merits and deep significance are liars. Deluded, deceived, deranged LIARS, I tell you! Literati who sing its praises and laud its profundity are fools. If the book hadn’t been the prized property of the Orem Public Library, I would have given its precious pages to my year-old nephew and let him have his way with it. Such is the fate an abomination like "The Great Gatsby" deserves.

With such a rocky start, I am now seriously rethinking my “classics” aspirations. Anyone have an extra copy of "Angels and Demons"?

Things That Are Awesome: 30 ROCK

2007-12-16T21:46:00.000-07:00

This will be the first in a (hopefully) long line of posts designed to expand the horizons of my dear readers. Yes, both of you. There are some things in this world that are so awesome, they simply must be shouted out to in the blogosphere. In this season of striking T.V. writers, it seems appropriate to begin with what just might be (all apologies to THE OFFICE) the cleverest show on T.V.

30 ROCK, as you may or may not be aware, is the brainchild of Tina Fey, former SNL writer and quite possibly the funniest woman on the planet. The show is so great because it's got something for everyone. There are plenty of topical jokes that will make the kids chuckle, and there are also several very sly references slipped into each episode that only those with a sophisticated sense of humor (or that at least think they do) will get. What other show set in 2007 makes a (funny!) Haldeman reference? I know my dad will be the only one that even knows what I'm talking about there.

30 ROCK is so brilliant that it's difficult to describe. I urge you to go to nbc.com, where they have full episodes you can watch for free. Yep, free! Relive the moment when Tracy, in his best mentor voice, instructs young Kenneth to "Live every week...like it's Shark Week." Then there was the time Jack read a critic's review of his family's brand of wine that stated that it tasted like "...the urine of Satan after a hefty portion of asparagus." Or who could forget the time a frustrated Jenna declared "If the president is so serious about the war on terror, why doesn't he hunt down and capture Barack Obama before he strikes again?"

Watch it. Love it. Tell your friends.

Steee-riiike!

2007-12-02T16:46:00.000-07:00

As you’ve probably heard, the WGA (Writers Guild of America) is on strike because of a disagreement with movie and television producers over royalties and residuals (read: $$$). What this means to you and me is that the T.V. studios are rapidly running out of scripts, and our favorite shows will soon be off the air, if they aren’t already. What will be left are reality and game shows, whose writers aren’t members of the Guild.

As an aspiring WGA member, I feel it my duty to support the writers. However, as a television viewer (I love The Office, House, and 30 Rock), I feel obligated to offer some few programming suggestions to the studios as they struggle with what to put on the air.

ABC

Are You Edible?
A daring reality show that invites professional cannibal chefs to sample brave viewers and inform them of their level of “scrumptiousness”. Watch out for the zesty wit of Nuwandubumppu, the “Simon Cowell of cannibalism”. Television has never been so tasteful.

CBS

CSI: Santaquin
A gritty look at the crack team of crime solvers in central Utah’s thriving metropolis. Be amazed as they use the latest technology to solve the mystery of Nephi Smith’s missing cat (SPOILER! It was under the porch) and Sariah Rockwell’s rickets (SPOILER! Lack of sunlight).

NBC

Are You Smarter Than Ben Bernanke?
Twelve aspiring capitalists compete to see who can bring the country to financial ruin the fastest. The most unqualified contestant becomes the new chairman of the Federal Reserve, with President Bush rewarding their incompetence with his trademark, “You’re hired!”

FOX

Oedipus Island
You thought your family had problems! The “mother” of all reality shows.

The CW

Heaven help you; I have nothing for you. I doubt anyone’s noticed that nobody’s writing your shows anymore. (Are you listening, Gossip Girl? XO! XO!)

R.I.P. November 46 B.C.-2007 A.D.

2007-11-27T22:10:00.000-07:00

Remember, remember, the month of November? If you do, you’re in an ever-dwindling minority. Sorry kids, but daddy has some sad news: November has been swallowed and messily digested by December. That’s right: November is kaput.

November’s descent into oblivion began not so many years ago. Though still on the sunny side of 30, I remember when I felt kind of funny/guilty when we started putting up Christmas decorations the first week of December. It just seemed a little early, like we were doing something wrong. Surely the half-life of a Christmas tree should tell you when it’s appropriate to begin making your days merry and bright. I wasn’t alone in the shame of my PMS: Premature Merrymaking Syndrome. Retailers dutifully waited until the day after Thanksgiving to begin their holiday markdowns on Rainbow Brite and Castle Grayskull. Grocery stores and radio stations were still proudly broadcasting Pat Benetar and the Cure well past Black Friday.

All of that has changed. As of 2007, I sadly announce the death of the month of November. At 11:59 on October 31, just as you’re cursing and turning away the last of the too-old trick-or-treaters, the clock turns over to December 1. Pumpkins instantly burst into holly wreaths. Fully lit and decorated Christmas trees erupt in living rooms. The shrieks of little ghouls and goblins segue into off-key carols and season’s greetings. The nauseating stench of peace and goodwill towards men fouls the air.

“Must it be so?” you ask. “Yes!” say my coworkers as Rockin’ Around the Christmas Tree drifts over from their desks on Veteran’s Day. “Yes!” cries The Guy Down The Street as he hoists a wreath the size of Sputnik to his roof two days after Halloween. “Yes!” proclaims my server at the Olive Garden as she plunks down holiday-themed mints with my check on 11/5.

Godspeed, November. You had a good run.

Let's Get It Started...

2007-11-26T21:33:00.000-07:00

There are only two people left in this country without blogs: me, and an elderly Des Moines widow with Parkinson's. Well, sorry Enid, but you just got owned! Maybe the Rotary Club's giving out "What's the Interweb?" awards this year.

So the bandwagon's been jumped on, the waters have been tested, and the day has come. The posts that follow will offer the daring (and pitying?) reader glimpses and insights into my brain--my awesome, awesome brain. I promise nothing but pure, undiluted "knowings" as they ooze and seep from the deepest coffers of my mind. Consider yourself warned and welcome...