Weekly Selects #31

some older ones i've been meaning to get to, and some new ones...

-Via Email from Saree, from Awkward Family Photos:

you must, must, must click on this link

 I only have two questions regarding the Bacon Brothers:
1) Are those vests textured?
2) Do we have a grill large enough to slap all three of the brothers on and get some breakfast going?

-Via IM from Josh M, with some high points during the first minute and around the 4:23- and the 5:00-marks:

More gems

It's like The Star Wars Kid, but in this case the kid actually knows he's being taped AND that it's going to go on the internet.

If you have the time, the whole thing is as watchable as a Barry Sanders highlight reel -- you know, if Sanders were an uncoordinated, mulleted marshmallow of a man aspiring to swordsmanship prowess, all while wearing a sweatsuit with cliched Asian logos on it.

The "DRAGON TWISTER" at 5:04 is a study in kinetic grace and beauty, like the Moscow Ballet (is that a real thing?) but I'm more interested in the origins of the name...The Kentucky Fried Chickens in Japan had a wrap called the Dragon Twister... and the kid has a nice little gut going, indicating overeating of something. Possible connection?

-Via Google Reader share, a New York Post article from the writer of the Battlefield Earth script, apologizing for writing the worst movie story ever. My favorite excerpt:

[Travolta] said again how much he loved the script and called it "The Schindler's List of sci-fi"

I make horribly outlandish and hyperbolized comparisons. But that was the worst I've ever heard of/thought of/imagined thinking of.

Well, I've been waiting for a decade for justice to be served, for some sort of atonement to be made for this awful excuse for a movie. Is an apology in a newspaper enough? Probably not. But it's a start.

-Via Email from Midge, a final video:

stupid, but fitting for a thursday morning

I'm a very active sleeper. Blankets and such usually end up on the floor, and I've been known to jump off a 2nd-level bunkbed before, but running into a wall headfirst is still on the to-do list.

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Weekly Selects #21

-Via Email from J2K:

Rotten Tomatoes just released the worst movies of the 2000’s, Battlefield Earth got 27th. Personally I think it deserved a single digit place.

Agreed. The only thing Battlefield Earth has done is give me some great material to write about and serve as a standard for how to make the WORST MOVIE EVER.

-Via Email from a coworker, Danni, from here; I know Halloween is past, but whatever:

something to make your inner geek laugh hysterically...You have to love when you have less than $10 to spend on a Halloween costume

Well, you also have to admire the umm...resourcefulness of this family. Economical, really -- because did you see this Jabba the Hut costume? $60!

OK. Enough with outdated holiday-related stuff.

-Via Email from AM:

SUBJECT: i am an addict

I find myself ending all my stressed-out exclamations with this phrase: "I need sushi."  For example: "This is a mess.  I don't even know where to start.  I need sushi."
"I have 22 missed calls.  I need sushi."
"I missed another typo.  I need sushi."
"What a disaster.  I need sushi."

For someone who, no more than two months ago, would recoil and curl up like a frightened pillbug at the mere mention of sushi, the pendulum seems to have swung the other way with AM. Addiction takes many forms -- this one has come in the form of vinegared rice, dried seaweed, and the occasional piece of raw fish. Well, I couldn't be prouder.

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Photo of the Week 21 Sept 2009

Walked out of Best Buy with this beauty, and thank goodness for that -- it was the only thing to console me after the BYU game on Saturday. Past experience with rewatching cartoons from the childhood had me fearing that it would disappoint, but I was pleasantly surprised.

See, a few years ago I came upon Thundercats while flipping channels. I loved the show as a kid, so was excited to watch it. I immediately regretted that decision. Dialogue was horrendous; the voices were unbearable; the plot line had no connection with what we call "coherence" or "quality." The cartoon was a confused, jumbled mass of storytelling crap -- basically cast in the Battlefield Earth mold before that mold even existed.

At that moment, I was like Dantes in The Count of Monte Cristo when he found out that Fernand had betrayed him. Thundercats and I had been friends since childhood; I thought it was upstanding and good quality. But no. Like Fernand, Thundercats sucked. And it betrayed and demoralized me with the severity of its suckiness. (I will concede, however, that Dantes may have gotten the shorter end of the Betrayed By Childhood Friend Stick. In a lucky turn of events for me, I was not extrajudicially sentenced to an island-prison to be annually tortured by a deranged prison warden and left to do nothing but stew in my own human waste and vindictive thoughts. Hey, I'm just trying to be optimistic here.)

That experience turned how I viewed my childhood upside down. Was pulling girls' hair really as enjoyable as I remember it being? Was kickball even fun? The Book Fair was worth all of the time I put into circling the books I wanted in the catalogs they gave us, wasn't it? All of my past experiences were under evaluation.

And so I purchased X-Men with some trepidation on Friday and went home to watch it. I attempted to re-create an atmosphere similar to my X-men-viewing from childhood, just so I could get the most out of it: I may have put on some MC Hammer pants, set a Super Soaker next to me on the couch, and poured myself a large bowl of Cinnamon Toast Crunch. Something like that. And after watching a fair amount of episodes, I will admit that while the cartoon is not better than what I remember, there certainly isn't the precipitous dropoff between expectations and reality that there was with Thundercats. It's pretty decent.

The lesson: Tread carefully when revisiting pleasant childhood memories. At worst, it will be devastatingly disappointing; at best, mildly gratifying.


Happy Monday, everyone. You'll have this song stuck in your head the rest of the day:

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Preempting Myself

Remember in the 2004 presidential campaign, when the Republicans "swiftboated" Kerry? I'm going to do some swiftboating of my own. Only in this case, I'm going to be playing the role of both Republican (revealer of incriminating events) and Kerry (attackee) and undercut my own future political career by relating some more random antics.

This actually works out quite nicely, as I despise politics, and have no future aspirations to run for office. In a way -- by recording my stupidity here in a publicly available blog -- I've preempted any serious contemplation of running for political office by crippling any of my own future candidacies. There's just too much incriminating stuff here that an opponent could point to in order to portray me as unfit for political office: My watching of Battlefield Earth as an indication of poor judgment (he'd be right); my refined taste for gourmet root beer as an indicator that I am an elitist who is out of touch with the common man (correct again); my troubles with the law as indicative of some buried anarchistic tendencies (debatable). Just to name a few disqualifiers.

So, future self: You're welcome, and you can thank me later.

But back to undermining myself with the latest adventure: The Run Amuck 5K in Maryland.

It was a 5K, yes, but I wouldn't call it a race. It was part-obstacle course, part-5K, part-"excuse for anybody to dress as weirdly as they want, minus the presence of ecstasy and glowsticks." Something about races that have you jump through tires, hop walls, and trudge through multiple stretches of swamp-like muddy water serve as an excuse to don strange attire. (My psych minor-receiving self has no logical explanation for this.) Headbands, dudes wearing animal print tights, etc etc.

Not one to be outdone, DJA sported some awesomeness, and even made on-site wardrobe adjustments to be more competitive in the appearance department:

Cutoff jean shorts: Check. Rope belt: Check
Improvised belly shirt: Check. Now we're rolling.

The most I could muster was tying my shirt to the side, a la the entire team of high school soccer girls I was asked to coach one summer (a story of torture for another day). Here's the Run Amuck Team photo:


And, the final, decisive nail in the coffin that was both mine and DJA's future political aspirations:


Whereas most races are held to benefit or raise awareness for good causes (ie cancer research, diabetes), I don't have the foggiest idea what cause my $40 entrance fee went toward. It could have gone to fund Nic Cage's next crappy, high-budget movie for all I know. As long as it didn't go to PETA, I can rest well at night.

The 5K itself was enjoyable. The most amusing part for me was not falling in mud; rather, it was the militaristic woman with short-cropped hair who happened to be in front of me for the first couple of walls we had to scale. The walls served as bottlenecks, so as I was standing in line to get over the wall, I mentioned offhandedly to my team that I should just go around the wall instead of waiting in line. The woman turned around and said "You'd better scale that wall, and you'd better get dirty! I want to see you dirty!" (emphasis was for real, and also represents an index finger wagging in my face) It was semi-amusing the first time, but by the second wall it had crossed over to and set up camp in the disturbing realm.

I promptly passed her after the second wall, and never looked back. Fear of that woman being somewhere behind me, yelling "I want to see you dirty!", was likely the strongest factor that propelled me to the finish line.

Anne M came out to support as well. She got an enthusiastic reception from the team afterward:


Now, to meet the genius who organized the thing. This guy gets people to pay him $40 so that they can run through mud. He would be a genius campaign manager for any politician-- but I guess that's not an option for me anymore.

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Last Week Recap

--There are a lot of common, everyday catchphrases ("Love is a battlefield," "Payback is a b***h," "Battlefield Earth is a crime against humanity," etc). After spending five days with my nieces, I have a new one: "Parenthood is a negotiation." It has all of the elements: Bribery (Eat that one piece of broccoli and I'll let you eat a quart of ice cream). Threats (If you don't stop smashing the sides of your little sister's head with your cymbals, you can't watch Dora). And as a final resort: Shameless pleading. All part of parenting.

...except unlike a police negotiator, if you lose your patience, you can't fire tear gas and send in a SWAT team to take care of business for you. This places the immutable advantage in the hands of the children. They may lose some battles, but they will always win the war.

I suppose the glass-half-full perspective would be that any parent has the proper training to, if needed, take over as the head of a major crime family. Negotiation. Bribery. Coercion. Threats. Grovelling (if things go south). Sounds like a pretty good resume to me.

--Helped a friend assemble an IKEA chest-of-drawers in what she accurately labeled as a "battle of wits and skill against the Swedes." After the experience, I'm convinced that the Swedes can/will take a very simple process -- think preparing a bowl of cold cereal, or toasting a pop-tart -- and write a manual with such vague illustrations that it would confuse the hell out of anybody. IKEA's inability to provide clear instructions on assembling their furniture is mind-blowing. I felt like the Egyptologists must have before the discovery of the Rosetta Stone: I saw the pictures. I know the pictures were trying to convey something. I just had NO idea what it was. I realize I'm not a skilled handyman, but I'm not a handymoron, either. Thankfully, it came together -- I suppose time and use will tell if it was done correctly.

On top of which, has anybody seen these weird formless men in the instructions? What. The. Creep.

Moral of the story: Don't trust the Swedes. They were neutral during WWII; they don't see the sun for half the year, etc etc

--Ironic Happening: Driving home from NC, I came up behind a car with the license plate "ANGELIC." As I passed, I saw a frizzy-haired, plaid-shirted, tattooed woman taking a long drag from a cigarette. Look -- I'm all about irony -- but when I pass on, if I see seraphims chain-smoking Marlboro's, I'm peacin out. It's disgusting.

--New Fear: Women rugby players. Chalk it up with clowns and creepy children. Yeah, I dunno. Came up in a convo with DJA.

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Random Thoughts From Wednesday

--You ever have something produce an unintended result? Let me explain a bit. A few years back, TME and some other roommates and I went to watch Miracle, the story of the 1980 US Olympic hockey team that overcame "Amy Winehouse will never use drugs again" odds to beat a powerhouse Russian team. When the film was over and we were walking out of the theater, everyone was feeling positive, inspired, proud to be American, etc. TME? "Where're some Russians?? I want to hit one!" Probably not the intent of the movie.

Now that I think about it, this episode may have been the reason I subconsciously avoided watching Pearl Harbor with TME. That, and it's just not that good of a movie.

--Horribly bad timing of the week: For the birthday, my buddy Banker got me tickets to a Monster Truck show. And not just any tickets. Backstage passes to get up-close and personal with the trucks AND the drivers. Problem: I had to WORK that Saturday. I haven't been this mad at myself since I watched Battlefield Earth. Banker did keep me updated with periodic texts ("ps: This is ridiculous") and pictures/videos:

Oh, the "what ifs"...

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Still Holding Strong

I like to think I'm a man of commitment and integrity. When I say I'm going to do something, I make an effort to follow through and do it.

I was recently put to the test.

In order to alleviate boredom when things get slow on a weekend shift at work, we change the channel on a couple of the TVs in the office to watch football, movies, etc. A week ago, during a particularly slow Sunday shift, my shiftmates decided to watch Titanic on TNT. I suppose this isn't anything extraordinary, considering the movie grossed more than the GDP of most African countries.

However, I promised myself long ago that I would never watch this movie, because I loathe it like Seinfeld loathes Newman. It's weaselly. It thinks more highly of itself than it should. And it keeps showing up at my door, wanting attention that I don't want to give it.

You know the opening 30-minutes of Saving Private Ryan? And how you as the viewer are completely drawn in, your eyes glued to the screen because you are entirely engulfed by the brutal reality of it all? Titanic is the antithesis of Saving Private Ryan for me. I'm repulsed by it. Somewhere between Kate Winslett getting naked and a love story crammed with more cliches than a "Grey's Anatomy" script, I developed a less-than-zero desire to see this movie.

And so when faced with the choice of watching Titanic or 4+ hours of boredom (the commercials for movies on TV are ridiculous), I chose boredom. At least I kept my integrity.

But seriously, that ship took forever to go down. I kept looking up at the TV, hoping the movie would be over. It kept dragging on.

Now, if you'll excuse me, I need to wipe up the venom I just drooled all over my keyboard.

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My The Dark Knight Anxiety

Let's talk neuroses. And instead of me being a jerk and targeting someone else, let's talk about mine.

The things I'm going to talk about may make me seem more dysfunctional as an individual than the entire Bluth family on "Arrested Development" combined, but it's all good. We all have our eccentricities. Mine just happen to manifest themselves in trivial things like movies and sports.

I'm a movie guy. Love them. But I've experienced so many colossal disappointments when it comes to sequels, usually due to my own elevated expectations being combined with horrible screenwriting (some notable disappointments: The Land Before Time II, III, IV, V, VI, VII, VIII, IX, X, XI, and XII, Pirates of the Caribbean 2 and 3, the aforementioned X-Men 3, etc), that I knew in order to survive my heightened anxiety leading up to the premier of The Dark Knight, I needed to seriously manage expectations. It was the only way I was going to walk out of the movie and not slit my guts open in order to preserve what little honor I would have left.

I've spent multiple blog entries singing the praises of Batman Begins, so I need you to realize that as 18 July 2008 crept closer, I felt like I was doing alternating emotional shots of anxiety and excitement and chasing them down with sleeping pills. I guess so you can empathize with me a bit, try to recall your feelings before each of the following experiences that each of us have:

1. First job interview
2. First public speaking assignment

3. First prison yard fight¹
4. First date

They are all feelings of the "I hope I'm not overwhelmingly humiliated / disappointed after this is over"-variety, right? (I guess with example 3, there is the added "I hope I don't end up with a prison shank in my back" aspect to the feelings. But whatever). Those emotions are what I was feeling about seeing The Dark Knight.

So like I said before, in order to avoid disappointment, I needed to manage expectations. How did I do in the leadup? Well, judge for yourself...

*****

---"I'm going black"---
As I sent out an email to my group of friends, checking on who wanted to go with me on opening night, I ended the email with a request that went something like this: "From here on out, I'm going black.² I ask that no one send me links to reviews, trailers, or anything related to this movie. I'm experiencing some anxiety for the first time in my life and don't need to have unrealistic expectations for how good it's going to be."

That's right. I went on complete radio silence from the media machine that was promoting the movie. Even those stupid Dominoes Pizza commercials warranted me quickly changing the channel. I didn't want to see any of it.

---Inexplicable Hayden Christensen Fear?---
About a week and a half before the movie came out, this crazy fear of mine started to develop that The Dark Knight would open with this sick action scene, the camera would move in on Batman, and then he would take the helmet off to reveal... Hayden Christensen. That's right. The whiny kid from Star Wars who's got that "I listen to Nirvana all day, why the hell do you think I'm always depressed?" face. It's probably because I had seen Jumper earlier this year (the absolute dregs of 2008 cinema), which solidified Christensen's Paul Walker status as a horrible actor. It would have been a perfect way for the movie to be ruined for me.

This fear of a horrible, horrible movie was only perpetuated when, on the night of the 17th, TNT was having a Batman marathon in anticipation of the premiere. Which movie happened to be on? Batman & Robin. It MAY -- and I don't use this classification lightly, so please realize the gravity of what I'm saying here -- have been on the same level as Battlefield Earth. I started thinking to myself: What if Christopher Nolan has gone nuts since Batman Begins, and decided to model The Dark Knight after Batman & Robin?? Did he request nipple-suits for the actors? Did he hire 5-year olds to draft his screenplay?

Needless to say, I didn't sleep well that night.

Again. Me. Crazy.

---"What Are You Doing?"---
I usually don't do too well at work on Fridays. I have a short enough attention span as it is, and when the weekend is almost there, I get antsy. Pile on top of that everything I just rambled about, and I was getting fidgety come Friday afternoon of the 18th. I needed to blow some extra energy so I unwittingly started shadow-boxing in my cubicle.

"What are you doing?" One of my coworkers asked from my cubicle entrance.
"Shadow-boxing."
"Yeah. But why?" He looked at me like I was crazy.
I looked back at him like he was crazy: "Don't you know? The Dark Knight opens tonight."

*****

The good news is that The Dark Knight was amazing, I am going to see it in IMAX soon, and my life has returned to normal.

Bad news is that with college football just around the corner, the anxiety is likely to return.

1 - My agent said I should expand my readership by appealing to a "wider demographic." He suggested I begin with the incarcerated segment of our population.

2 - Anybody on this email chain can easily go back and see that I didn't type "I'm going black," but I wish I had. It just sounds better.

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Blogiversary

Dearest Ramblings-

I just wanted to wish you a Happy 1st Anniversary. I know it was actually a couple of weeks ago and you're going to blame it on my never remembering "what's important to [you]," and blah blah blah. Are you done nagging yet? Thanks. I know you'll never let me forget it, but I've been really busy -- spending a lot of time with the boys playing ping-pong. And, yes, there are other projects I'm interested in, but technically I wouldn't consider it cheating.

(Technically, you could argue that we've been together for about two years now, but I'll admit that I basically ignored you that whole first year. Let's be honest: We had different agendas in the beginning. You had an ugly design and needed a makeover {Honestly, we could still do a little more work for you in the looks department...you're so pre-packaged and formulaic} Plus I think you needed some time to mature a bit. You can thank me later for being patient.)

Sometimes you demand more attention than I have time for. Like when I come home and just want to relax, but you want me to tell you about work or my adventures at the post office or whatever. Usually, in the end, you help me find the humor in things.

Let's go through some of our accomplishments and milestones for our first year together:

>>120+ photos with fabricated, exaggerated, and untrue captions; a true symbol of honesty in our relationship.
>>2 pot shots at the ACLU; I am actually quite disappointed in the progress we made here and would like to work on this, if you are amenable.
>>5 cheap shots at PETA; I was proud of you for these entries.
>>2 I'm a Moron installments, with many more to come, I'm sure. The fact that you stuck with me after my acts of stupidity shows real dedication. Admirable.
>>6 references to / uses of Battlefield Field as an adjective. This has definitely turned into one of those inside-jokes that outsiders find utterly annoying.
>>6 new name-verbs.
>>1 entry dedicated to the Beastie Boys; the fact that you are almost as dedicated as I am to the Boys scores you mad points in my book.

Thanks. Here's a virtual "good game" butt slap. Let's keep on rolling.

Sincerely,
JD

*****

Anybody have favorites / suggestions / critiques / something they'd like to see more of, as I take inventory of one year of Ramblings? Leave a comment, if you feel so inclined.

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Life Experiences to Music

I've been thinking about quitting my job and chasing my dreams; of going into the studio and pounding out that rap album that I've always had bouncin around in my head...

...trading my inheritance for a bowl of porridge? Not quite. But close.

But honestly, if anyone has listened to a rap album all the way through, characterizing it as 'formulaic' or 'unoriginal' is a Battlefield Earth understatement (with incredibly rare exception). What do rappers do on rap albums, you ask? Subject matter is usually confined to these or similar life experiences:

1. Drugs, combined with expensive alcohol and/or malt liquor;
   
2. The 'heat' [guns] they 'pack' [carry on their person];
3. Women and how easy it is to find them;
4. How many people from rival gangs they've shot/times they've been shot by rival gangs;
5. The cars they own;
6. Protecting turf;
7. Dislike for and willingness to stand up to cops;
   
8. Any combination of the above can make for a decent track
   

Simple, right? I mean, all I have to do is follow this equation, maybe chant my own name a few times, come up with a catch phrase or two, and I'm set for life. That's why I think I got this down pat.

Problem is, I think I lack the requisite life experiences to make a rap album.

I suppose the only thing I can do is take the most comparable life experiences that I have and throw them into the mix. Here are the closest personal parallels I could come up with for the above outline:

1. Besides an affinity for certain smells that may or may not cause a bit of a "high," the closest I'm going to get is a restrained like for Nyquil.
   
2. One time at the BB gun range at Cub Scout camp, I shot and destroyed the clothespin that was holding up my paper target -- three times! One of the counselors called me "dangerous" and "out of control."
3. At my first boy-girl birthday party in 1st grade, one of the girls spent the whole time chasing and trying to kiss me. She was too slow to catch yours truly.
   
4. Rye and I played paintball against some 10 year olds once. I think it's fair to say that we lit those punks up.
   
5. I drive a '97 Honda Civic. It has a CD player and two cupholders; no modifications.
6. When I get home from work and someone is parked in the spot closest to my door, I get semi-annoyed, but don't do anything about it.
   
7. I got my first traffic ticket the other day. I promptly did exactly what the officer told me to and threw in a lot of "Yes, sir" 's as a show of good faith.
   

Maybe I'll hold off on booking studio time and space.

For now.

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How I Ended Up with a B.A.

A lot of people talk about "defining moments" in their lives; where it all became clear and they made a critical decision, turned their life around, [insert optimistic fluff]

I can point to a couple of those in the route I chose to take in my college education. I mean, how did a kid that did Knowledge Bowl [Captain my senior year] and Science Olympiad in high school, and seemed destined for some sort of hard science degree in college (not to mention the obvious-- Asian!), end up with a liberal arts degree?

Two anecdotes.

I had a great friend in high school, Warren, who was one of the popular kids. His only quirk was that he was a serious conspiracy theorist. I'm talking "Big Brother is out to get me" -type stuff; he had read all kinds of books. One day he came with me to my computer networking job (like I said: nerd) because he wanted to see what I did. Apparently, I did something to impress him...although I didn't know until later the extent.

I walked into class the next day and a mutual friend of ours, Neil, came right up to me.

-"Dude, you'll never believe what happened with Warren in CWP (Current World Problems) last period."
-"What'd he do this time?"
-"We got onto some topic and everybody was yelling back and forth the room at each other. This went on for a couple of minutes and in the middle of it all, Warren stands up and yells: 'It's not going to matter. You want to know why?! Because when we grow up, and Josh D [we'll leave my last name out of this] owns all of you, you're all going to be nothing but a bunch of barcodes. So you'd better get used to it!' It was unreal. The class was speechless."

So was I.

-"...So, Josh. When you take over the world, I've got a spot as a favored minion, right?"
-"Uh, sure, Neil. Yeah."

I decided then and there that if I continued on my nerd/science track, I would end up being a dictator. I wasn't going to let that happen. That set the stage for my complete break with science. The complete break would come a few years later.

*****

I took Chem 105 my sophomore year at BYU. While I don't doubt the professor's PhD status (ok, I sometimes do), our ability to learn was severely hindered by his completely Battlefield Earth teaching. Almost every single concept he "taught" to us could, in his mind, be demonstrated by blowing up a hydrogen balloon at the end of class. Apparently explosions and mayhem are really solid, proven pedagogical techniques. Demonstration of the Law of Entropy? Redox reactions? Only thing I remember about these concepts is explosions. My roommate who had class in the same room after mine would be waiting for me afterwards, and as I walked out he would just say, "Another hydrogen balloon today, huh?" It was like witnessing the Hindenburg go down 12 times in a single semester.

One day in this class we were discussing electron clouds and orbits. The dialogue between the professor and a student went something like this:

-"Professor X [no, sorry "X-Men" fans...the "X" is for purposes of anonymity], the textbook says that the orbit is where the electron has a 99.99% chance of being."
-"That's correct."
-"So where is it the other 0.01% of the time?"
-"It could be anywhere, really. The room next door, Mars, another solar system..." I remember slamming my chemistry textbook shut. Science sure does a great job of explaining things. "...now if you'll allow me to demonstrate with this balloon. Could somebody turn off the lights...?"

I think that could be the defining moment when I gave up on science.

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Tagged - Enjoy, Sis

So my sister, Juli, virtual 'tagged' me from her blog, because she was "interested to see where [I'll] take this." I think you're supposed to list five things about yourself and then tag five people, or else you will be cursed with your secret crush not liking you, or the plague, or alcohol addiction...something like that.

Listed below are six -- how's that for taking things somewhere, huh, Juli?!? -- that you might not (and didn't care to) know about me.

1. Talk to me after I wake up - I don't always say everything that's on my mind, but if you want to catch me without a filter, do it after I wake up. I'll say exactly what I'm thinking. Anecdotal illustration: Back at the Y on a Sat morning, some friends I was planning on going to go paintballing with called me at 9am (I had forgotten):

-"Hello?" (italics in this narrative indicate dazed and confused)
-"Josh, hey, are you coming?"
-"Huh?"
-"Paintballing. We're waiting for you."
-I start crawling out of bed in my underwear: "Can I play with no pants?"
-"What? Uh...I guess...you could do that...you know, if you wanted..."

2. I punched a girl once - Casey was our FHE dad back at the Elms. For the activity he brought two pairs of boxing gloves and some slips of paper. We were to write who we wanted to see box each other on the slips. I ended up being pitted in The Octagon against a girl that had broken up with my roommate a few months back. I insisted I didn't want to fight her, but she kept coming at me, and the last time she did she swung with her left, I grabbed it, gave her a little tug to the ground, and gave her a little love tap to the right cheek. When I got home, the roommate asked "How was FHE?" "It was fine. I boxed your ex." slight pause -- "Sounds about right."

3. I clubbed a kid with my lunch pail - We might as well get the violent stuff out of the way. I had a sweet plastic Voltron lunch pail in Kindergarten. This kid on the bus ride home kept bugging me, so I smacked him over the head with it. The bus driver guaranteed me I was getting a ticket. When my stop came, I slid right off the bus. She probably mistook me for the other Asian kid on board.

4. I’m a contrarian – For some reason I like to make conversation difficult for people – but not in a confrontational way. I can’t explain it. Two illustrations:

Illustration 1

Friend: “Josh, you know you don’t always have to be contrarian.”
Me: “Yes I do.”

Illustration 2

Friend: “I ran 10 miles yesterday and I am sore.”
Me: “No you didn’t, and no, you’re not.”
Friend: “I’m pretty sure I know what I did and how I feel.”
Me: “Uh huh”
Friend Reconsidering Friendship: “I can’t believe I’m arguing with you about what I did yesterday.”
Me: “Believe it.”

5. I like baby food – Believe it. When I played in all-day soccer tournaments those little gerber glass jars of fruit puree (not that veggie puree…gross) had tons of nutrients needed to get some quick energy. Maybe that’s why I love those Naked and Odwalla smoothie drinks so much. They taste the exact same and cost about the same per ounce.

6. I make up words - As you all know from my B.E. entry, I make up words. This isn't all that unique, though, because I think a lot of people do. I do, however, specialize in verbs that represent a tendency that someone has, and base it on their name. Some examples:

• "Go ahead, just James Joyce me." JJ is an author famous for employing stream of consciousness. If I'm talking with someone but they keep getting tripped up b/c they can't seem to organize their thoughts, this is the phrase I use. (trans. "Just spew out everything on your mind and we'll sort it out later.")
• "He/she totally Paul Walker'ed that." I use this with actors and movies a lot, mostly with The Fast and the Furious franchise -- correction, let's call it a debacle -- in mind. (trans. "He/she took a movie that already looked horrible based on previews and made it even worse with their horrible acting.")
• "I just got my trash Shigeko'ed." I love my mom. One of the many loving memories I have of my childhood, I remember her always licking her thumb and aggressively scrubbing something off of my face. I didn't like it. (trans. "I was just treated in a rough manner by an otherwise well-intentioned individual.")

And the list goes on.

I break the mold and end the tagging here. I’m more of a reformer than any of the presidential hopefuls claim to be.

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Guest Blogger: Begs What?

******Warning: NOT JOSH******

I am not Josh. But reading his blog inspired me to complain publicly about the things that bother me. So I now write about when people say “begs the question.” But first I will head off any and all of your questions:

1. Q: Who are you? A: Who am I? Who are you?
2. Q: Are you qualified to post on Josh’s blog? A: 1. I’m a doctor. 2. I already have a quote on here (see right hand side of page for hilarity). 3. I am related to Josh (And no: “I once stayed up with Josh all night drinking Dr. Pepper and watching Lord of the Rings and/or Jason Bourne and then went on a Betos run in the morning” does not count as related to Josh. It counts as “I should have worked harder in college.”).
3. Q: I don’t like you. A: That’s not even a question; try and stay on topic.
4. Q: Why would the phrase “begs the question” bother you? That’s weird. A: I’ll tell you why.

When was the last time you heard someone say “begs the question?” (Ha, who’s asking the questions now?). It was probably by some reporter on TV who said “President Bush is disliked by such a large majority of the population, it begs the question . . . how was he reelected?” Or, “The man had a firearm at the airport terminal, which begs the question . . . how did he get it through security?” Or, the 2-year-old child was found wandering the street at 2AM (near Betos restaurant, and I use the term restaurant loosely), which begs the question . . . where were her parents?” Well, whoever said these phrases, or phrases like unto them, are idiots! Hearing stuff like this completely Battlefield Earths me. What these people mean to say is “prompts the question” or “elicits the question.” It doesn’t beg the question! How does a question beg? Am I begging for the question to be raised?

Begging the question is a logical fallacy that presupposes a premise of an argument to be true, without proof other than the argument itself; and/or when the proposition of an argument is assumed in the premises. Here is an example that I often come across:

1. Mormons believe X
2. I don’t believe X
3. Anything I don’t believe is False

∴ Therefore, Mormonism is False

This arguer is begging the question because he is assuming #3 to be true without proof, and because he is assuming the proposition (Mormonism is False, see #2-3) in the premises. (Please note: the preceding argument is valid, meaning that the proposition follows from the premises (nearly all arguments based on circular reasoning are valid), but it is NOT sound—a sound argument must be valid and have all true premises). Are you paying attention? This is important.

I once heard a TV commentator use the phrase “prompts the question.” It was amazing. For me, it was probably tantamount to the feelings most people had when the 1980 hockey team beat the Russians. Some people think that the phrase is misused so often that it should just become part of the common vernacular in its incorrect form. This is absurd. If enough people do something wrong, should it become OK? That’s pinko talk.

So I ask all of you to join with me in my fight against the incorrect usage of “begging the question,” which should only be used in critiquing an argument. It’s a good fight, because you only have to fight very infrequently, and you get to feel smart.

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"I'm a Moron" Series - Part 2: Battlefield Earth Viewing

The Series has returned slightly more quickly than I would have liked. This one was caused partly out of curiosity -- that's right, PETA, the very thing that killed the cat -- and partly out of an unfulfilled obligation to a friend from high school.

It was the perfect storm. My sisters had purchased a Netflix subscription for me, giving me access to movies I that I normally wouldn't pay to rent; a leaked video of Tom Cruise being interviewed about Scientology had just come out; I had some free time after work during the week... All I needed was some courage to watch one of the reputedly worst movies of all time, based on an L. Ron Hubbard book: Battlefield Earth.

Friends have heard me throughout the years frequently use Battlefield Earth as a synonym for unbelievably bad or terrible -- not just for movies, but as a universal standard: "Dude, don't eat there. Their orange chicken is SO Battlefield Earth" or "Don't take his class. He is a Battlefield Earth professor" etc etc. You get the point. I figured if I was going to use it, I should at least see the movie.

Okay, well, first of all, that's a lie. I don't think I've ever used Battlefield Earth as an adjective. But I wish I had.

Alright, alright. I'm delaying the inevitable. Here's my review:

This is the absolute worst movie I've ever seen. I loathe it. I despise anybody who had anything to do with it -- this includes myself. Anybody who owns this movie should consider medication. Even sitting at the bottom of a landfill, this movie is a complete waste of space.

I'm sorry. You want a systemized review instead of my wrathful rants? Here you go:

• Dialogue? You know when dogs first meet each other and sniff each other’s butts? I consider this more intelligent and meaningful interaction than what they tried to pass as “dialogue” in this movie. (-3 stars)
• Plot? Blows. (-20 stars)
  
• Character Development? Characters were one-dimensional: HORRIBLE (I've given up on my arbitrary star system by this point)
  
• Entertainment Value? I'd rather walk through snow barefoot, step on a rusty nail, then get shot in the knee. What the hell. Make it both knees.
  
• Special Effects? I think King Kong -- the 1930's one -- had better special effects.
  
• Overall - I usually give at least a star for having made a movie, but this film's existence is actually working against it in this category as well.
  

I've reflected on what I could have done with the two hours I squandered. I could have been enjoying a nice meal, taking a nap, reading Ja Rule's autobiography, getting my foot run over by an 18-wheeler, drinking a gallon of curdled milk -- any of these myriad of options would have been a less painful... and, quite frankly, more productive use of my time.

Filling up my bathtub, getting in, and dropping an electric appliance in with me.

Sorry, ideas just keep coming to me.

I've made some mistakes in my life. I'll admit that. I think we like to take mistakes as lessons to learn from and try to move on.

There is nothing to be learned from this one, except: DON'T WATCH THIS MOVIE.

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Baseball: Our National Pasttime?

Baseball confuses me.

Now, before you misunderstand that and start patronizing me with "In baseball, there are nine players; the pitcher throws the ball and the catcher catches it..." I should clarify that I understand the scoring, the positions, the strategy, etc--but to me the sport is still a bit of an enigma (not to the extent that baseball's illegitimate-second-cousin-by-marriage relative [cricket] is, but you get my point).

I love going to baseball games. I like the vendors yelling. I like being able to sit back and relax while watching a sport. I especially like the guarantee that I will get to hear Ozzy Osbourne scream: "ALL ABOOOOOARDDD! HAHAHAHA..." multiple times in a game, because I am fairly sure that it is a League mandate that each team must have a player whose 10-second approach-the-plate-music is Black Sabbath's "Crazy Train."

And yet, if I'm surfing the channels on TV and I have a choice between watching the "Battlefield Earth" television broadcast premiere on TNT* and a baseball game, I hesitate. Granted, the hesitation lasts a split-second and I choose baseball, but this still concerns me as a self-proclaimed sports' fan.

Maybe it's because I sometimes have difficulty accepting professional baseball players as athletes. Guys that spend most of their time sitting, standing, or chewing, and who get winded after jogging 180-feet, don't present much of a defense for themselves to be classified as athletes.

But the other half of me thinks about the physics that is involved in pitching, or hitting a baseball with a relative toothpick for a bat, and it blows my mind. Einstein never even got around to explaining it. There is no denying that the hand-eye coordination needed for baseball requires ridiculous skill. I'm guessing the hand-eye coordination needed to adjust yourself 50 minutes every night doesn't, however.

I guess I'm trying to say that I find it difficult to understand the appeal sometimes. Maybe guys like watching baseball on TV because they can sit on their couch with one hand down their pants and tell their wives: "Look, babe. That guy has no problem adjusting himself in front a stadium of people and millions of viewers. Why can't I do it at home in front a few of your Tupperware-party friends?"

So I began this blog trying to talk it out in hopes of resolving my feelings about baseball... And I end just as confused and ambivalent, if not more, than when I started...

*I understand that TNT would never do this and the idea that they would even consider broadcasting "Battlefield Earth" is a blatant insult to the competency of their staff, but it was the first network that came to mind.

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