Paul Haggis Sucks

The Black Donnellys premiered tonight on NBC.

I haven’t ever seen Million Dollar Baby, but this show clinches that I likely never ever will.

It’s official: Paul Haggis is the most overrated writer since Joe Eszterhas. Remember Showgirls? Yeah, that Eszterhas.

The other haggis:

Haggis

haggis |ˈhagis| |ˌhøgəs| |ˌhagɪs

noun ( pl. same)
a Scottish dish consisting of a sheep’s or calf’s offal mixed with suet, oatmeal, and seasoning and boiled in a bag, traditionally one made from the animal’s stomach.

I’m struggling with which haggis is actually more nauseating.

The Black Donnellys. Jesus fucking Christ what a horrible piece of shit. Did I equivocate too much there? You know us homos and our mincing, so here’s some evidence:

  • Actual voice-over lifted from the show: Salmonetta did all his business out of the same booth every day and every night for 46 years. People say he had a toilet under the table. OMG “toilet” and “did…his business”! Ow, my sides from laughter!
  • There was a moment when the “good” (hey, if Paul Haggis can telegraph plot points from a mile away, I can use scare quotes) Donnelly brother first gets sucked into his brothers’ badness. He’s chasing after a guy who escaped his brothers’ imprisonment down a DEAD END STREET. “Dead End” Sign and Everything. Bonk! Bonk! On the head! Bonk! Bonk!

I leave you with more haggis, which looks like shit. Irony.

103200184 1B73503F4B M

Technorati Tags: , , , , , , ,

Tim Hardaway is a Dickhead

You know, I hate gay people, so I let it be known,“ Hardaway said. ”I don’t like gay people and I don’t like to be around gay people. I am homophobic. I don’t like it. It shouldn’t be in the world or in the United States.

Gee, Tim, you’re free to hate whomever you want, but remember, it’s much more fun to hate people individually than in large groups.

But Tim, you sexy Judge-Fudge-too-busy-bein’-delicious, the United States IS in the world. You stupid, uneducated fucktard bitch.

Maybe you’ll be in “rehab” soon because it’s costing you bling, or maybe all your DL connections grew spines and stopped letting you suck their dicks.

Technorati Tags: , ,

Loss

There are many things in the world I do not understand. There are not many things—at least in the once upon a time days—that I can not or will not understand. There is a vastness of bitter, bitter space between ability and desire.

Ability and Desire. Two things that have never been two separate things within me. Failure to do or failure to win or failure to achieve are old, old friends and I still know them well and recall them with fidelity.

Debussy plays now, now past Syrinx where the notes trickle and drop, falling off the edge of the world. Lost forever. He can’t bring them back, won’t bring them back, so he brings more notes. New ones to replace the goners. I have the music set to play from a Mac mini to multiple rooms in the house as an ersatz tune I carry ersatzly in my ersatz head.

And now comes a waltz. A slow one (La plue que lente), at that. Waltzes are my favorite. The only form of music where the dance paints the notes instead of the other way around. Feet do not land in the land of waltzing, instead forgetting to fall, or having lost the ability to fall. Each measure in a waltz has lost its last note and makes due by gliding forward, ever forward.

What has happened to the engine that has driven me forward-ever-forward for these nearly 43 years? It’s lost. Hidden, at least. Camouflaged by the upward and enveloping drip drip drip of pain and noise, rhythmic and random, respectively. I cannot glide and it feels like my life depends on this very ability.

Ability and Desire.

Who I am is not who I was. This is the way of things. We get older, we suffer joys and champion crises, we choose or refuse. We grow and die-back. We gain and we lose.

All so gradual, the diminishing years we have ahead of us and the growing years behind us, according to the calendar’s math. Its numbers are unassailable, exact. But? I used to think, “also simple. Too simple.”

I could say I’ve lost my way. I could say that even being stalled in backwaters and eddies can have purposiveness applied: the Learning Experience. But who can learn anything when one has the desire but lacks the ability to deeply focus, afflicted with a sort of mental claudication?

Ability and Desire.

Once I was able to have so many threads of thought in my grasp that a simple flick of the wrist would generate solutions to so varied a set of situations that I was almost prescient. Today, the ongoing pink noise of pain in my head often makes me forget to hold on to a single thread at a time, and off! off goes the balloon to which it was attached. Another it-thing lost.

Ability and Desire.

Maybe that’s just Cole Porter talking. Maybe it’s John Barrowman singing Porter. Or singing Sondheim. Maybe the 3:30-odd-minute song is the right sized portion for me. Maybe John Barrowman singing “Being Alive” properly tapes out the distance between Ability and Desire right now in a masturbatory way:

Someone to need you too much
Someone to know you too well
Someone to pull you up short
And put you through hell
And give you support for being alive - being alive
Make me alive, make me confused
Mock me with praise, let me be used
Vary my days, but alone is alone, not alive.

The Someone in the song is I. It is a grotesque and maudlin coincidence that there was just over a minute left in St. Valentine’s Day 2007 when I started this entry. Nothing more.

Ability and Desire.

What I wish to be able to do…throw the levers and crank the cranks of my brain to entertain, demure, self-exculpate, self-aggrandize, self-abnegate, self-identify…are not within my reach, much less my grasp.

What of my livelihood? And what to do without one?

It was, back in the day (pre August 2006), so easy to poke holes in much-vaunted (or at least much-attended-to) philosophies like nihilism (the self exists to question its own existence) or existentialism (the snake is swallowing its own tail and lives to tell the tale) or even Objectivism (Axiom #1: Thou shalt not accept axioms!) because the self remained intact and robust when compassing so many inner worlds.

In those better times, my unifying philosophy: it’s turtles, turtles, all the way down.

I can’t see any of those turtles any more, philosophies fail me and I am afraid.

What do you do when you can’t do what makes you you?

Technorati Tags: , , , , , , , , ,

That Time of the 2nd Month Again

It’s that time of the year again, chil’ren, and I don’t mean Valentine’s Day (in sad fact, it had completely slipped my mind that today was that day). No, what I’m talking about is IBR, or the International Bear Rendezvous.

I kid the bears, I chastise them, castigate them, praise them (they have their moments), embraced them (we’ve had our moments), pointed and laughed at them, been horrified (hairified?) by them, been…well, you get the picture. Pick a verb and, in horseshoe/grenade fashion, it’ll probably be “close enough” to true at some point.

This is usually the time when I go in for my annual Nair® full-body dip. It’s murder on the scrotum, but so’s wrongful complicity.

Or rather, I would be on my way to my appointment at the Little Ark dog grooming shop (they refit a fleadip tank just for me) except for something my 나물 닥터 (Korean Herb Doctor) said to me last week as she was shaving parts of my back so that the 불 단지 (Fire Jars/cupping) would form a seal and keep suction. She said, “All your food, all your nutrition! It go to brains and growing hair!” Then she laughed and showed me a new straight razor with an expression that said, “you wore out the old one!”

I told her that since she had a new razor, to just go ahead and shave it all, not just where she needed to for the 불 단지. Why? Because I never really cared for the look.

“But it’s you,” she said, in a tone that—not seeing her face as I was face down on the table—conjured up a number of quite flattering (if also embarrassingly stereotypical) thoughts of Ancient Wisdom Being Passed Down. “Besides, it keep you warm in winter! No need for jacket!” And she laughed and laughed.

Since then, she’s prepared lunch for her and me after every appointment. My favorite is still the rice and kimchi porridge with anchovies and mungbean sprouts, along with a generous portion of her home-made kimchi (lots of garlic!).

I have discovered that if you are a ‘bear’, then be one. But don’t try to be more of one than you are, or less of one, for that matter. And remember that ‘bear’ is just a word and words are but labels and labels only phages for carrying memes outside of your mind and, inversely, bringing them into your mind. They are not you.

People who inhabit labels. Those are the ones that piss me off. That’s one of the frighteningly-few differences between a gathering and a mob: a gathering is a collection of individuals. The mob personifies the label.

So, IBR? A gathering or a mob? Neither! A rendezvous! Or a Vichy Rendezvous?

Let that, gentle readers, give you paws.

Technorati Tags: , , , , , , , , ,

Jennie, Jennie, Whom I Have Turned To

The closest I’ll ever have to a religion again is worship of Johnny Trinity. Except that she’s too far up to reach when I put her on a pedestal, so I keep close in my heart and mind and as we dance arm in arm and chi to chi (oh yes, I went there).

Anyone who has never gotten a cunty, cowardly and very personal muddy-diaper of a thought lobbed at them from the anonymous distance of the intarwebs as either a) never said anything worth a damn or b) hasn’t ever had a blog or c) is, by most standards, simply unassailable. Mr. Jennity inhabits the last category.

Here is Jennie’s response to some shit-stain that hates it when real people don’t stay put in the well-labeled pigeon-holes that s/he made in his/her Saturday morning arts-and-crafts class at the local Y:

Please peace the fuck out with that shit. you are every unschooled thought that has ever floated self-righteously towards someone else’s generosities and consciousness and you want to fix or change something, or you want something back, convinced of your misreadings of art, intention, commerce, visual/linguistic non-sequiturs akin to the woodland spirit creatures in a miyazaki film (in other words, I’m charmed by them), using emoticons or shorthand with friends and you have offered a complaint on the difference between a magical quality and a quotidian flatline. and somehow, thru a series of severely off course illogical misfires, you think you’ve launched a personal and much needed attack on someone else’s failings, weaknesses and general sogginess (for the life of me, i can’t figure out what your unnecessary problem with the color blue is), for their own good. i think you should start your own site. i have my own theories on magic and life and content and they are not yours

That’s it. I’m done. If you decide to anonymously (or non-anonymously) attack me because I’m gay or a pretender to some random cognoscenti or bald or short or male or blue-eyed or because I have the moxie to put myself out there and take some risks, all you’ll get is the best boilerplate EVAR:

Please peace the fuck out with that shit. You are every unschooled thought that has ever floated self-righteously towards someone else’s generosities and consciousness.

Fin.

I love you, Jennie. And you know all the reasons why.

Technorati Tags: , ,

Sizzle over Steak

Meat.

I totally bumped my always-up-to-date (hey, I’m flighty and/or a serial obsessor) netflix queue down a couple dozen notches because of this badboy:

Image

2006 02 Jasonstatham Menshealth Blu-ray is the shit. 1080p is the shit. Jason Statham is the shit, even though some of his movies are shitty. Jason Statham in 1080p? From pixels emerge magical things. That’s all I have to say on that. (click is his pic for larger)

So the netflix queue is all askew, and quite easily done thanks to this amazing little app, Netflix Freak. Instead of futzing with all those arrows and typing in ordinal numbers, you just drag and drop, Mac style, the order in which you want your queue arranged. It’s updated often to shadow the changes in netflix.com’s website, so you’re almost never without a working copy. Go buy it. If you’re a Mac user, that is.

And if you are a Mac user (like nearly half of my readers seem to be), VersionTracker is your friend. One of the Mac developer community hallmarks is a vibrant freeware and shareware community full of apps—some adequate, many top-notch!—that are single-purpose gems that make you life easier or let you do things that you didn’t think you could. Or just make doing those things in a straightforward fashion—except for funner!

Picture 3-1

The top 20+ items in my queue are now blu-ray discs. I’m gonna be dazzled (sizzled?) for a while with full 1080p for the foreseeable future.

It’s about all I can do these days. My brain doesn’t work anymore. I hope it works again.

And flashy pixels and uncompressed sound coming from everywhere is an effective distraction from the dread of considering that my livelihood is in significant and long term jeopardy.

Puppies and Rainbows! (did that help shift the mood?)

Technorati Tags: , , , , , ,

Windows Vista is a Cutter!

Turns out, there’s an interesting—and dare I say, innovative—bug in Windows Vista’s speech generation and speech recognition software.

Seems that since the speech recognition is “speaker independent”, it will respond to indiscriminate voices and, if it recognizes commands, will follow through with them. Y’know, like half the Leather Community of San Francisco.

Anyhoo, it’s possible to make Windows Vista hurt itself:

In one scenario outlined by users an MP3 file of voice instructions was used to tell the PC to delete documents.

But Microsoft, of course, downplayed it:

[Microsoft Corp] has pointed out that in order for the flaw to be exploited the speech recognition feature would need to be activated and configured and both microphone and speakers would have to be switched on. “There are also additional barriers that would make an attack difficult” said a Microsoft security researcher.

So as long as you don’t use the highly-touted and marketed speech-recognition feature of Microsoft Vista, you’ll be fine!

Is this a joke? Wait, it is! A very, very old joke: “A man walks into a doctor and says, ‘Doc, it hurts when I do this. Doc replies: Well, don’t do that!”

Reminds me of a guy I used to work with back when I was doing Computational Biology back in Pittsburgh in 1991. He was one of the Junior IT guys and he heard my office mate (an awesome guy called Ryan) and I talking about the future of computers—wall-sized display and voice interaction. He walks by the office and said, “delete .!” I thought at the time he was being incredibly unimaginative. Turns out he was prophetic—because you can still find a DOS prompt on Windows and do a del . to your own files!

So anyway, you go out and buy that, ahem, very tony new PC so that you can have translucent windows and a 3D representation of a rolodex for your onscreen windows; you get a camera for it and a microphone (don’t they build these things into PCs yet?)—to say nothing of some kick-ass speakers to play back your ZuneTunes and the other music (the types that “Play for Sure”—and you’re all set to bark orders at your Windows Vista, but Microsoft tells you not to do that!

No solution offered, no indication that they’re working on a solution to it…just “say no”.

Well, actually, “say nothing”.

•••

In other news, Bill Gates called Apple, Inc. a liar. Even thought most Windows industry folks are saying that you need to upgrade your hardware in significant ways in order to get the “new”-fangled 3D and translucency effects in your Windows windows, Bill Gates says that Apple’s lying in this ad:

But Bill goes on:

I don’t know why [Apple is] acting like it’s superior. I don’t even get it. What are they trying to say? Does honesty matter in these things, or if you’re really cool, that means you get to be a lying person whenever you feel like it? There’s not even the slightest shred of truth to it.

First, Bill, get a sense of satire. Second, Principal Vernon, what would you know about “cool”? Besides baby-shit brown-green being the new black, of course.

And third? Pay attention to your users and care about what they need. If Apple’s superior in one way, it’s that. They pay attention to usability.

Or maybe, Bill Gates knows something about John Hodgman’s ass that the rest of us don’t?

Technorati Tags: , , , , , , , , , , ,

Lemmings Republicans 2001 Congress

This is an ad called Lemmings that was put together for Apple, Inc. (neé Apple Computer, Inc.) back in the day. Meaning January 1984. (wow, don’t years starting with “19” look antique now?? Wait, nevermind, that makes me an…nevermind) It was aimed at DOS users and to tout the “Macintosh Office”, something that brought networked printing to the masses (well, to Macintosh users) and, perhaps most importantly, Postscript® to the world.

Watch it and tell me it doesn’t make you think of the Republican-led Congress in the post-9/11 era.

In other news, Apple’s “1984” ad was called Best Superbowl ad in the game’s 40-year history:

And doesn’t the script of that ad make you think that George Orwell was wrong only in the fact that he placed it 20 years too soon? 2004 sure felt like 1984.

Technorati Tags: , , , , , , , , , ,