Hopeless Geek

To my generation, he’s the Kurgan! MacLeod’s final and most ruthless opponent for the Prize in Highlander. Others may know him as the vicious Captain Hadley from The Shawshank Redemption. And to my nieces and nephews, he’s Mr. Eugene Krabs in Spongebob Squarepants.

Clancy usually excels when he plays heavies because the times he’s a good guy or ally, the movie or show tends to do poorly, despite his great acting ability.

The PlayStation network does have Bad Boys on its list but I doubt I can convince my wife to rent/download it since he’s only a minor character (who meets are rather unpleasant fate) and the subject matter (a juvenile-young adult prison) is rather gruesome. Maybe they have Highlander.

This latest stinkburger from George Lucas only got considered for a couple reasons:

1. We’ve heard decent things about the TV series on Cartoon Network from children and adults alike. I guess that when you lower the bar, even Lucas can produce an adequate program. This isn’t meant to insult CN but when a movie franchise is adapted for television, especially cable, expectations aren’t very high.
2. This was an experiment with our PS3’s ability to download and play back a rental. Sony is trying to get into the same action as MS via Xbox 360, Apple’s iTunes/Apple TV and Netflix via TiVo. Since we don’t own any of the others, we thought we’d give it a shot. It was OK, any gripes would be the throughput of my wireless connection

The plot gets rolling some time after the movie known as Dumbest Title Ever (or Attack of the Clones). Count Dooku and his Separatists appear to be winning the conflict as more worlds are signing up against the Republic. Then Jabba the Hutt’s son is covertly kidnapped by Dooku’s apprentice Ventress. If Anakin successfully rescues the little slug, the crimelord will express his gratitude by allowing the Republic’s fleet passage through Hutt-controlled space; thus giving the Republic an advantage in mobilizing its forces to the Fringe worlds. I guess that’s where the bulk of the fighting takes place. To make this flick kid friendlier, Yoda saddles Anakin with his own apprentice named Ahsoko Tano (yet another name generated randomly by dice).

All I can say in Clone’s defense is how this could’ve been much worse. The action sequences are the only entertaining parts, much like the last three prequels. I was surprised with the level of violence this contained for a program aimed at children. There’s nothing graphic: clone troopers are shot, they fall down and they die. At least they don’t fade away and respawn. Only objects or robots get the brunt of the lightsabres. Now the level of violence shown isn’t a criticism, believe me, the lack of it ruined the first Alien v. Predator. I just figured this would be milquetoast battles because of the overwhelming idiocy plaguing children’s programming since the Seventies, back when Superman could only give Lex Luthor a stern look on The Superfriends. Maybe CN can do it because of their cable standards.

In the end, this movie kills 80 minutes, keeps the kids occupied for as long and continues to remind adults how much Star Wars started to suck after The Phantom Menace, especially when Ziro the Hutt (Jabba’s uncle) speaks. Had I known in advance that Tennessee Williams rose from the grave to provide this alien such weak dialog in a Blanche Dubois accent, I would’ve conducted my PS3 experiment with Get Smart starring Steve Carell.

Have you tried rebooting? (in Apu voice)

I had to get a picture of this when I went to the Post Office last week to ship several overdue packages on New Year’s Eve. Personally, I don’t mind interacting with the postal workers but if my stuff is ready to go, I can do it more efficiently through the machine shown above. Thankfully, there was no line so I asked the clerk what was wrong with the automatic teller. Her response was discomforting; all of them across the country were down because they’re networked together. Nice. Little did we know it should’ve been a warning of the upcoming Zune apocalypse later in the evening. On the upside, at least the Post Office could continue to ship packages and not be left helpless like the USS Yorktown in 1998.

 

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The first new Austin-based friend I made married her boyfriend of many years in a wonderful ceremony in Houston. Almost a decade after we met, how fitting. The wedding was like seeing a kid sister having her big day; it’s my nickname for Sonia too, ma petite soeur. In English, she’s the smarter, savvy kid sister who tries to steer the big brother in the right direction with the ladies. I’m sure there’s a word for it in one of the languages present that evening.

Since our anniversary was earlier, I know this is supposed to be wood as the gift. I will have to ask them what Switzerland (their current home) allows for plants or seeds. Ethan and Kelly got us hooked up with this awesome olive oil thing; I don’t know if it’s a co-op, commune, timeshare, etc. I just enjoy the good stuff Somara makes to eat and we’re due for another batch in the Spring. Pretty clever. Olives come from trees. Trees are the source of wood. Quite the touche move to the Maggis giving the Lowrys cotton t-shirts for their second.

Or I could be a wiseacre and send them music by Morningwood, Screaming Trees, and the Apples in Stereo.

Congratulations to them! If you know Sonia and/or Philippe, drop them a line!

So I’m ending the annual tradition of reminiscing about Christmas Break a couple days later than last year. Sorry, I didn’t expect 1988/San Diego to be an overwhelming mess I should’ve written up sooner; it’s much like that tumultuous year in my life from start to finish. Recovering from New Year’s Eve burned up most of New Year’s Day too. I barely drank anything, I just stayed up much later than I’m accustomed to in my advanced age. An additional, late morning nap was required after I fed the quartet of ungrateful cats around 7-8 AM; we fed them before turning in around 130 AM hoping to appease them: Felines 1, Primates 0.

Without further ado, here’s the conclusion to the 2008 edition of The Six Days of Christmas. Personally, I’m glad to be done with the year 2008 in general. I think it will go down in history as one of the worst years since 1968 and 1979 which were also plagued with nothing but crappy news.

Besides 2003 being our first Christmas together as a married couple, it was a minor reunion because Somara spent 2002 in Florida with her sister’s family and I had the house, PS2, DVD player and cats to myself. I got the better bargain since the weather was a bust in Florida. As for Break, I probably worked through the Christmas week while Somara visited her parents in Georgetown. I needed New Year’s week off to go to Houston, which I’ll get to later.

After Christmas was the more memorable time. Once I concluded working on the 27th, I was free until January 6th. First was our day trip to Dallas on Monday to see the Flyers. Previous plans for tickets via a friend fell through (not his fault) but I really wanted to go. Somara agreed to tag along so we hauled ass and ended up arriving pretty early; I overestimated what rush hour in Big D would be like. The game ended in a tie (this was the NHL before the changes of 2005)  yet I didn’t care. I saw the Philly lineup that was within inches of winning the 2004 Stanley Cup under Hitchcock: LeClair, Primeau, Recchi, Handzus, Esche, Gagne, Desjardins, Amonte and Roenick. Believe me, if they got past the Lightning, this team could’ve easily clobbered the Flames’ clutch-and-grab game for the Cup.

New Year’s Eve was quietly “celebrated” at home with some Adult Swim marathon of cartoons.

New Year’s Day was much cooler. We packed up and hit the road again for Houston to attend Sonia and Philippe’s wedding. The weather there was gorgeous despite it being overcast. I wish I brought my jams from Vegas so I could swim in the pool. We weren’t completely bored, when we weren’t eating or taking advantage of the Internet access, Somara and I became more acquainted with Hey Arnold on Nickelodeon; I swear it was the only thing on TV besides Attack of the Clones.

On the following day, we went to the (nearby) Houston Galleria to visit Jeremy at his Mac Genius gig. He had time to do lunch and fix the wireless antenna on Somara’s PowerBook G4. We killed the rest of the afternoon walking around, exchanging stories about what the mall was like in the Eighties.

Saturday evening was the big wedding. Sonia was radiant and it was the biggest amalgamation of language I had attended in years: Spanish, French and Polish were the primary conversations. The Giraudet anniversary is tomorrow so I’ll save the details for then.

Sunday afternoon we got together with Jeremy and Tina. We met them at their apartment, attended an Aeros game and had dinner. Things were looking pretty good for them but I know I was hoping they’d come back to Austin for numerous reasons; playing D&D with us was a minor one.

Monday morning we wrapped it up by hunting down both of our old homes on Houston’s southeast side. My recollection of the route was terrible. How we found the Sagemill house from 1983-4 must have been a miracle; now it would be a piece of cake thanks to my iPhone’s GPS! A neighbor, who was taking out his trash, was nice enough to tell me all about what had happened after my family moved away (again, saving it for later). We didn’t get as close to Somara’s last Houston address. Either the neighborhood had gotten rougher or something, I’ll have to ask her. Somara’s former high school (Dobie) had been gutted and slated to be demolished since the tollway ran over it. I don’t think was distraught over this. Visiting Clear Creek was put aside for another day since we wanted to get home at a decent hour.

A nice, relaxing Break I should’ve enjoyed more because 2004 morphed into a mess at the second half I wish I could forget.

That’s it until next year. Thanks for your patience and I do hope some of you would share favorite holiday memories. I don’t like my site being a complete top-down setup.

My first Christmas back in Austin was a rather lonely affair, reminiscent of 1994. Instead of moping about it, I took the opportunity to work at Apple over staying home, going to Katz’s for dinner or pulling a holiday shift at my part-time movie job. It was easy money, the three of us temps who volunteered didn’t receive one call from the iMac agents in Oregon. When our manager appeared later that morning, he told us the switch to contact us had been off for 90 minutes anyway. Fortunately for the people managing the routing, there were no attempts during the gap. I spent the morning watching LA Confidential in French to bone up on my foreign slang/profanity. The afternoon was probably wasted playing Escape Velocity with the sound off so the boss wouldn’t notice. I doubt he cared.

It seemed pretty sad and lame but I told myself the situation was temporary. I had only been back in Austin for several months. I knew rebuilding the life I once had was going to take a while. The bigger crises were paying off debts (moving back cost more than anticipated), getting a more permanent place to live (I liked the room I was subletting yet I wanted to be closer than north Round Rock) and trying again to get hired by Apple; the rejection letters for the latest round went out on Christmas Eve, smooth. Living in the Austin area had been achieved was the rationalization. Everything would fall into place as it did five years earlier; I could do it sooner now that I had a car and more experience.

New Year’s was the bigger and better time. Ethan invited me to the get-together he and his roommate Darren held in their apartment. I remember us filling up a grocery cart at HEB with snacks and beer. It was mainly a bunch of Apple people hanging out. I recall watching Ethan playing the current Zelda game on his N64; I wouldn’t touch the console because I hated the controllers. Besides anyone else playing his Nintendo usually meant the multi-player version of Goldeneye or what Darren relabeled it, Ethan shoots everybody.

This Christmas Break was just a short time to breathe and reflect on the goals for 1999 which looked pretty exciting:

• There would be another attempt to be hired by Apple since the new iMac was a hit (it would soon be available in five other colors).
• The first new Star Wars movie in 16 years would be in theaters by mid May.
• I did have some new replies on my Match.com account, one of which panned out better than either of us expected.

I failed on my deadline to post the Fifth Day of Christmas II but hey, I am fudging the rules since the Twelve Days of Christmas run from the December 26th (Boxing Day) until January 6th (Epiphany or Three Kings Day), seriously. I had the gist of written down in my head since 1998 isn’t very detailed. Way too many errands to run and some of you have overdue cards and gifts coming your way I had the time and means to get out the door.

Tonight we’re off to our friends’ house to celebrate with food, booze and my Rock Band 2 game. It’s the official debut of the “band” I put together, based upon our D&D group (guess which people are which) and John is responsible for the name: The Power of Pelor Compels You. It’s even present in the logo you can see (upper right corner).

Be safe and I will be off from work for two more days, much more to come.

Back when we had Dish TV with VH-1 Classic, I got hooked on Classic Albums because I’m a sucker to hear the story behind the creation of certain landmark albums. Even if I didn’t like the artists, the program still left me enlightened with a greater understanding and respect about the music from the particular title. Many changed my mind (Transformer by Lou Reed, Face Value by Phil Collins) or strengthened my appreciation (A Night at the Opera by Queen). These one-hour episodes are a must for music/trivia geeks like myself because they focus on what went into making the record, not the crash and burn anecdotes which fill Behind the Music.

This Fall the producers finally got around to covering an album that was truly an influential part of my life, Duran Duran’s Rio. When the record appeared, I was 14 going on 15 and my family had recently moved to Houston which had “ruined” how I had everything “planned out” high school if we remained in Springfield. Shortly after we got initially settled, we started getting cable TV again and it had this weird channel I heard about from classmates, MTV. Back in 1982, it showed videos of tunes I never would’ve heard back in Springfield, namely this one called “Hungry like the Wolf.” Raiders of the Lost Ark-visuals aside, the song was impressive and I was intrigued to hear more. Luckily, another guy at Strake had it and he generously loaned it to me. Upon the first listen, it was definitely an “all killer, no filler” album. More importantly, I really identified with several tracks: “My Own Way,” “Hold Back the Rain,” and “New Religion.” Overdramatic I know, yet it wasn’t in the mind of a teenager experiencing that nobody understands me phase. Through this (American) breakthrough record, Duran Duran became one of the instrumental artists that reshaped my musical tastes from the liking the standard Midwestern fare of Hair Metal and Arena Rock (because nothing else came to Springfield) to all the New Wave stuff coming out of the UK, Australia, New York and Los Angeles.

The story begins with what life was like in England as the Eighties began. Things were pretty rotten: the economy (sounds familiar), ethnic riots, a controversial leader (Thatcher) and eventually the Falkland Islands conflict (the distraction to re-elect the Tories). Punk rock had burned out but left its imprint on the next generation of aspiring musicians, including founding members John Taylor and Nick Rhodes. In the process of making a viable band, other people join/leave until Duran Duran solidified into the line-up most people remember during their heyday. The narrative does jump around on how Rio evolved by contrasting with their self-titled debut, the tours leading up to its release and their two-way relationship in making MTV influential. Each member, except Andy, is interviewed individually about what he remembered on a song’s origin, how crazy it was spending a week in Sri Lanka shooting three videos at once and any other relevant story. It would’ve been nice to have Andy’s input though but in their defense, the other four members only say nice things about him. Outside the band, the producers interviewed Duran Duran’s first manager, various EMI people, David Kershenbaum (he remixed Rio to make it “work” for the US market), a British reporter who covered them during their early years, a founder of MTV and (oddly) Bob Geldof.

As a fan of theirs for over two decades, the DVD was worth the 13 bucks. I feel non-fans would be entertained from one viewing too, especially if were around my age in the Eighties. The most surprising part which made me happy was seeing Roger smiling and engaging the interviewer. In the past, he was always so shy and serious looking. It was no surprise when he was the first to quit in 1986. Roger even refused to be interviewed on Behind the Music for the Duran Duran episode back in the Nineties.

Overall, the disc is a fitting tribute to Duran Duran’s 30th anniversary this year and what would be the album’s 25th. It was originally released in mid 1982 but radio finally picked up on the hits around early 1983. How I remember hearing the string of awesome singles all Spring until they had the (still) disappointing Seven and the Ragged Tiger completed for Fall.

If Christmas 1992 was when my life hit rock bottom (grammatical errors and all with the link), then the following year defined what one unit from “zero” equalled. Turns out that my deep-seated problems of living in Central IL weren’t “cured” by scoring a new full-time job back in May. After the Silder wedding, I really wanted to return to Milwaukee. Then in November I had Austin on the brain, which practically morphed into an obsession. The colder-than-usual Winter wasn’t helping since I’d check the temperatures on the Weather Channel to see how much warmer Texas was and fantasize how things would improve once I got there. I was probably gambling too much on it happening because I had no Plan B.

As the holiday cheer? Everybody in my family made separate plans again. The parents stayed in Raleigh-Durham, Brian in Chicago (I think) and the grandparents in IL looking for sympathy amongst their friends instead of going East. I know I expressed no interest being with any of them due to my funk. The time off I did receive from DG was reserved for the annual Silders New Year’s Eve party.

Alone, I carried on my recent tradition of going to the movies. This year I sat through a double feature: Grumpy Old Men and Tombstone. Both remain watchable to this day but I think the latter flick has aged better despite its obvious historical errors regarding the Earps and Doc Holliday.

The following week had me racing up to Chicago to see Paul, Helen, Phil and others. I didn’t get to enjoy the time as much as I hoped because I had to return to Bloomington by dinner on New Year’s Day; I had a new part-time job. Whenever I have a brief amount of time to relax, I tend to get none in the process anyway. Still, I thanked everyone for their company, it raised my spirits a tad.

The Break ended quickly and on such a bitter note. I remember not wanting it to end since the next 10 weeks of Winter were going to be brutally depressing. Thankfully, hope was around the corner. Doc came through with the offer I was hoping for three weeks later. A tardy present but as the cliche goes, better late than never.

So with Disneyland completed, Christmas Break 1988 was off to an awesome recovery, canceling out the unpleasant beginning known as The Drive.

Christmas preparations resumed in San Diego by Mom taking us to the closest mall in Poway (the ‘burb they lived in). I only remember Brian’s gift which was rather unimaginative; a pair of Smithereens EPs. He was cool with it. I remember he gave me the dual CD compilation for the Damned’s tenth anniversary; hopefully I got him something else to compensate on the unevenness of our exchange.

The big surprise was our cousin Ron spending the holiday with us. We hadn’t seen him for years, especially after his father (Uncle Loran) moved to Alaska in the late Seventies; it always put our “miserable” time in North Dakota into perspective. Ron was in the area because he had completed basic training at the nearby naval base. Mom took care of providing Ron a gift to keep him from feeling left out. Dad explained that basers weren’t allowed to have much space-wise. Naively she bought him some soap-on-a-rope. It brought out a lot chuckles, including Ron. By then it was too late when my mother realized the “tactless” nature of her choice.

Meanwhile, an Arctic wave of cold air blanketed the entire continental US by Christmas Eve. It was severe and even San Diego wasn’t spared the freezing temperatures. Of all the Christmases to be in Southern California, I had the misfortune to relive Houston in 1983. The weather recovered to during my last several days there, in time for me to feel the shock of trying to readjust to Milwaukee in the heart of Winter.

We took Ron back to the base a day or two later. He got to visit us again pretty quickly. Some idiot made an error with his orders for being transferred to Nashville and until this was ironed out, Ron was allowed to stay in the area. I think Dad wanted him to get a better view of the city while he could; military life is filled with tedium. I recall going to some pricey mall on the north side where he spent a ridiculous sum of money on sunglasses. The “elitist” college student in me felt he acted like all those other desperate, horny sailors I’d see in downtown Milwaukee, especially when any young woman crossed his sonar. Brian confided to me later how Ron was asking for assistance in getting the attention of some skanks at the bowling alley the following night. Overall, I did wish Ron the best with his naval career while considering myself lucky; Mom once said, joining the military is equal to attending college for most of Dad’s family. Many cousins have since proven this wrong.

I did succeed in meeting Trip Reeb of 91-X and the lady (let’s go with Michelle) from Enigma Records in LA.

The drive to 91-X’s San Diego facilities and back was marred by Mom having a burr in her saddle for some reason. I think it was instigated by the Jerry Harrison song “Rev it up” on the radio. She failed to spoil talking to Trip though. He provided a sobering learning experience about the “industry” and I was grateful for him taking the time out his busy schedule. This man went on to be the general manager of KROQ, the gold standard of Alternative stations in Los Angeles (and the world) around 1989. As a parting gift, he gave me a pair of 91-X shirts. One was for me and the other for Steven Alan Segal at WQFM. I should’ve brought a bag to hide Segal’s. When Brian got wind of the “extra” shirt, the drive home was a barrage of incessant bitching from him and Mom over me not giving it up. I finally appeased Brian with a Smithereens shirt courtesy of “Michelle” from the Enigma Records trip. The quest to LA to meet her was a larger karmic expense yet it became an eye-opening, direction-changing one. I had been leaning toward toughing it out in Milwaukee after talking to Trip. Then seeing LA solidified my decision to take my chances at being a “larger fish in a smaller lake,” which “Michelle” stated in our conversation about my impression of California. It was great to finally put a face to the voice on the phone regardless.

This Break also included my first and last trip to Mexico which is why I’ve never bothered visiting again despite living in Texas for 13 years. (The border is 250 miles from Austin.) Before then, I was intrigued by the stories of Tijuana from movies and other sources. I wasn’t looking for anything controversial, I just hadn’t been to a country which wasn’t America Lite, aka Canada. I also had to find a bottle of tequila with a worm in it for Downstairs Dan at WQFM. This I succeeded at and drafted Mom into “smuggling” since you still have to be 21 to bring it back. I use quotes on the word smuggling for it was her choice of word. Americans were legally allowed to bring back one liter each without hassle from the Border Patrol. The harder part now is bringing it back in your luggage thanks to the Department of Fatherland Security’s TSA.

I know it’s unfair to judge Mexico over Tijuana, but it was the filthiest place I had ever seen. It made some of the roughest parts of Milwaukee look like Club Med. The poverty was depressing too. I must have been delusional when I thought going shopping there would be enjoyable. Unless you’re hunting for bargains on tequila, blankets, turquoise jewelry and other crap trinkets, you’d have better luck at the overrated outlet malls in the States. I did score a pancho for myself since I really liked the color. Buying it was a different matter. In TJ, the street merchants don’t put price tags on their wares. You have to haggle and they will only take American money. This soured my experience further; I felt like I was still taking advantage of people in an impoverished country. My family made a second expedition days later. I declined and stay behind to watch cable.

(I’m running out of time and I barely will make my deadline to post this so I’ll start to wrap this up. Seems that 1988 was an amazingly eventful four weeks though. Maybe I can recycle this with new stories in five years.)

The four weeks wound down and I couldn’t wait to get back to Milwaukee-Marquette. A couple thousand miles of distance between us was in order for both parties. I remember the second half of the Break being ruined by arguing, bickering and fighting which is why I never returned to San Diego to visit my parents. Much of the friction was likely my fault; I had trouble dropping the subject then; but the contentious nature of that time served as the impetus to become a more independent, self-sustaining adult; I would’ve pulled it off if I didn’t take the job with GDW.

Dad bought me a round-trip ticket to send me back to school. His plan was to have me return for Spring Break because one-way flights were expensive. To me, the prospect of flying quickly to San Diego only to spend a significant portion of another vacation trapped in a car with my mother and/or brother sounded like a violation of the Geneva Convention. The ugly memories of this Christmas Break were still pretty fresh when the time to use the other half came around and I let it go to waste. Dad was pretty pissed. I stand by my decision to this day. Brian got stuck using half of his week off from college driving because Mom wanted to stop in Las Vegas along the way…to see some crummy outlet malls.

Unpleasantness aside, Christmas 1988’s legacy is it being the last truly “eventful” Break of my life. Future ones were usually briefer and duller because I had an apartment, a part-time job to stay busy and a girlfriend. I also learned that the company one was surrounded with can always trump the location when planning a great vacation.

I’ve been playing with The GIMP and found some rather neat plugins for desktop pattern creation.

I went to Wrigley Field for the first time in 2007 and was pleased that the promo on gameday was an Aramis Ramirez bobblehead doll. Some 18 months later of staring at this thing on my desk, I just noticed that it was sponsored by Fannie Mae.

I’m guessing we won’t see them sponsoring too many more of these.

Found at Lee County General Store, Giddings, Texas.

Ever since Texas passed Prop 2 in 2005, I’ve been idly pondering how on earth to challenge this insanity. To be fair, I haven’t been pondering it the whole time, otherwise the last three years would be a considerable waste.

The trouble with Prop 2 is that it is indeed a state constitutional amendment, meaning there’s very limited avenues to challenge it. The most straightforward would be a new proposition to repeal the first, but given this amendment’s shameful public support, that seems absurdly unlikely. Judicial review would be the other avenue, but there’s two problems. First, being embedded in the state constitution, state courts can’t touch it. Second, federal courts are loath to intervene in what is widely considered a state’s issue. The right thing to do would be to challenge it federally on equal protection and civil rights grounds, but again, the feds are unlikely to go along.

I suggest a nuclear option. Let’s look at the wording of the amendment.

SECTION 1. Article I, Texas Constitution, is amended by adding Section 32 to read as follows:
Sec. 32. (a) Marriage in this state shall consist only of the union of one man and one woman. (b) This state or a political subdivision of this state may not create or recognize any legal status identical or similar to marriage.

Subsection (b) is very curiously worded. This state … may not create or recognize any legal status identical or similar to marriage. In other words, this state may not recognize marriage as a legal status. Therefore, any and all laws that pertain to marriage and now null and void, as the state can’t recognize the marriages in order to enforce said laws. Standing might be an issue, because most of these laws are simple definitions. You’d be hard pressed to prove you were harmed and, thus, had standing.

Unless you were going through a divorce. The judge is going to have to recognize your marriage in order to sever it. It’d be fun to see someone in the middle of a messy divorce make a motion…

Your honor, as you’ll see from Section 32(b) of the State Constitution, the state may not recognize this as a “marriage.” As such, divorce law doesn’t apply here… or anywhere.

If the judge refused, and things didn’t go their way, they could appeal up through the ranks and, possibly, have purchase to go federal with it. Sadly, this wouldn’t challenge the amendment directly, and even if all this transpired, the end-game probably wouldn’t be to toss out the amendment. However, it would force the state organizers to quickly repeal or revise said amendment, which would take time. A lot of time. In the mean time, divorce law has been stood completely on end, and they’ve actually done more factual damage to the concept of marriage than even they claim would be done by gay marriage. The hope would be that the movement would be dealt such a significant PR blow that they would have trouble passing a properly worded replacement.

This is, however, Texas. Even if the organizers are dealt such a blow, the replacement might still pass. Probably overwhelmingly. And then we’d be back at square one. But time will have passed, a victory will have been won, and maybe, just maybe, the cultural landscape will have continued its inexorable slide forward, and saner heads will prevail either here or elsewhere.

Think I should have this minor Adam Ant hit memorized? Go ahead, at least click it for the title. 
 
Today my VW decided to leak oil profusely. According to Somara, it had started trickling a little yesterday when she saw the trail my car left…three hours after I went to work [her shift is around 11 AM]. I figured it would hold at least a couple more days, long enough to take it to Underground on Monday. No dice. The alarm went off a few blocks from my job which meant the oil was practically gone. As a comedian I once saw said [paraphrased], why is the oil indicator shaped like Aladdin's lamp? To me, it doesn't mean my oil is low. It says I have a wish coming and the genie must be arriving due to all the smoke coming out from under the hood. Thankfully, there was only a little burning smell and smoke. 
 
I didn't want to be stranded at work so I had to juggle my schedule, probably lose some vacation hours and cajole my wife into following, should the car die on the way. Somara bought a couple quarts of oil for the trip to assist. It leaked out of the vehicle in two miles! So this process had to be repeated several more times as I scored oil at a gas station and an HEB on Lamar. When it was over and done, alarm blaring in the home stretch from Airport to Underground, my poor ol' Golf leaked three gallons of motor oil to hobble there [11.3 litres for my Metric-using friends]. What started as a trickle on Monday was now a gushing wound, I could even see it already working its way out at the HEB while I was refilling it. 
 
There is a [relative] silver lining to this tale of car trouble. The mechanic on it called me at work pretty quickly. Due to all the mess covering the front of the engine by then, he found the source…the oil cooler's seal, a three-dollar part. What a relief since I know how much labor is at an hour and then I just need five quarts to put it all back to normal. There was some coolant mixed in but he said it wasn't serious. 
 
Now I must wait for the part to come in, the repair and then coordinate a lift to retrieve the ol' money pit on wheels which remains cheaper than a new or "new" used car. 

Current captain Mike Richards holding up Reebok's latest
money-making scam. Photo courtesy of the Philadelphia InquirerEverything old is new again thanks to Reebok being the company to make the "new" NHL jerseys. Personally, I have yet to see this overpriced shoe company do anything to actually promote hockey in America. Ya' know, commercials, product lines and other forms of advertising. I still prefer CCM or Koho [Canadian made too] over Reebok's overpriced crap made in Asia. 
 
I'm guessing the unveiling of these "alternate" home jerseys coincides with the traditional Black Friday game my Flyers will be playing next week. These current orange ones are definitely reminiscent of how the team looked in the Seventies. Blech! People complained over the previous alternates with the 3-D logo? I just wish the Flyers would return to orange as their home color which is unique. Black is overused with so many others. But it's all about selling clothes to kids in the suburbs who think they're gangsta's [aka morons] yet they don't know much about the sport or team. 

…or more likely, you may see prototypes, experiments and anything else of what may be its future. 
 
My friend Jeremy has had little to no success getting the successor site to work due to problems with 10.4's implementation of SQL [or MySQL] via WordPress. I was more biased toward Drupul from all the other sites I'd seen but I have to get my assistance where I can get it since I cannot dedicate much technical time to it. 
 
So Picayune's server will have an external FireWire drive running it while it's booted up in 10.5 Server allowing Jeremy to make the alterations. 
 
If all goes according to plan, checking out my site won't be pokey from the Java nonsense carrying out the functions HTML, PHP and SQL do. Plus no more Java processes exploding and taking up all the CPU power, forcing me to kill it. Lastly, I may be able to incorporate movies, fancier HTML layouts and more. Jeremy has even entertained a Wiki which I'm still trying to figure out what exactly it is and if it really solves anything outside the context of Wikipedia. 

Sunday night Miette decided to give us a nice scare but first let’s set the Wayback Machine to Halloween to explain why the Tension-o-Meter jumped to 11. 
 
I came home from the Blue Marble to see Somara in the neighbors’ front yard throwing objects into their bushes. Before I was completely out of my car, she gives me this, “get over here and help me!” Kuroneko bum rushed the door on Somara and decided to go exploring the area. Smart move for a black cat on Halloween. We succeeded in catching her as Kuroneko’s thoughts were, “what a great game we played!” 
 
As for Sunday, our initial guess was that Miette somehow escaped. We weren’t clear on the details and I know I was puzzled because she had been sleeping on my lap an hour earlier. No one had opened the garage or front doors. So while the other three were eating, we turned the house upside down in search of Miette, namely the various closets or rooms she might have been trapped in. Not one sign of her. 
 
Resigned to her wandering the streets, I went outside and combed the nearby blocks; cats don’t really stay too far, especially when they’re off in unfamiliar turf. By the time I was walking up DeMaret, one of the many streets inhabited by roosters and dogs, Somara called. Miette was found…hiding in the bedroom, waiting for Molly to finish eating. She was busted by my wife who heard eating yet saw Molly sitting on the bed. Seems my little thief [Miette is named after the girl from a French movie I can explain if you care] was experimenting on how diligent we were on keeping the expensive out of reach. 

Details are still in transition plus it cannot all be disclosed due to confidentiality matters. 
 
What I can tell you is that it involves Somara. She was allowed to tell me and I was thrilled. When we receive clearance, I will either amend this post or make a new one. 
 
Certainly makes up for Quantum of Solace being sold out last night; how I was really looking forward to seeing it too. 
 
1195 

I picked this one up from BustedTees.com to go with my Obama victory shirt. The main joke of this is ridiculing Amy Winehouse and/or the stereotype of British people’s teeth. Anyone who has been to London will recognize the red-blue symbol from the city’s subway system. In the Austin area, the symbol is frequently used with local businesses which have Waterloo in their name: Waterloo Icehouse and Waterloo Records quickly come to mind. Why? Before 1839, this city [really a village back then] was called Waterloo and the Republic renamed it after Stephen F. Austin. Anglophilia for London and the Beatles is my guess why the symbol is used around here. 
 
Anyway, I think this is funny and I’m grateful Winehouse’s ongoing drama prevented her from doing the theme to the new James Bond movie. Hopefully, this shirt won’t turn into another humor test at work and/or a concert at Stubb’s. 
 
Now judging by my gut and recent weight gain [228-9, or obese as per Wii Fit], maybe I should be wearing a shirt saying "Mind the Glut."