The Daily Procrastinator

FlashCap and Juggernaut are identical twins. This does not mean, however, that they are exactly alike. What follows is an online conversation between the two brothers that, had they been in the same room at the time it was occurring, probably would have devolved into a fistfight. Thank God for the internet.

Message Board Thread: “Your POS Politician of the Week”

Juggernaut: Stay classy, Van Jones:

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FlashCap: Geez, sounded like a joke to me. And that he’s playing to a largely Democratic crowd. I’m sure NOTHING like this has EVER happened at a Republican meeting.

/this was not your best one, J.

***

J: Wrong.

J provides link to Van Jones’ apology

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FC: Oh, bullshit. Here’s his very next line:

“Well, the answer to that is, they’re assholes,” Jones said, to uproarious laughter. “That’s a technical, political science term.”

It’s a joke. And plenty of people beyond politicians have been forced to apologize for jokes. Come on, J, get real.

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J: Noticeably absent from his apology were the words, “It was a bad joke.” Or “It was a poor attempt at humor.” Or any other explanation that supports your belief that this was a joke. To this end, I’d be more willing to take it as a “joke” if he had said, “but so are most everybody in DC” or “and the Democrats ain’t much better.” But no: he limited to Republicans, using the term as an insult, then defined himself as an asshole as if it were some kind of badge of honor (but of course, Obama isn’t).

Without having this devolve into one of our patented online fights, you have got to understand that there are people on the far left that believe this. They’re radicals. They’re lifers. They’ve drunk the kool-aid. And they are part of the problem. And this guy is one of them. Do you know anything about this guy?

Of course there are people on the other wing that are equally as nasty/classless (Ann Coulter, anyone? Or is she just joking?). And I’ll call them out if I notice them. But this guy made the list as a POS for the comment.

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FC: But he did call himself an asshole, in the exact same way as he used it to describe Republicans, so by your logic he’s got an extreme problem with self-loathing. I don’t buy it.

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J: Did you even read my post?

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FC: Yes, and I obviously don’t agree with you. I think that’s obvious with my post, isn’t it?

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J: The only thing obvious is that you’re being an apologist for this guy. And you have not responded to anything in my last post except to make something up about his mental state.

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FC: J, the guy said “I can be an asshole, too.” In my experience, people who refer to themselves as assholes are saying they can be obstinate and unwilling to compromise. Guess how this guy feels some Republicans are being? He appropriates the same term he used for Republicans and uses it on himself.

He said something that got laughs – he then said that “asshole” is the “technical, political science term” for it. Another joke. More laughs. He then calls himself an asshole. More laughs.

Hey, by the way, when did you call out Bush for his “rudeness” here? Or are you gonna be an apologist for Bush? I’m thinking I remember everyone (family; friends) laughing about it – including me.

FC provides link to Bush calling a reporter an asshole.

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FC: And here’s Bush’s comments about it:

President Bush was subsequently criticized both for the remark itself and for the way the fallout from it was handled. When his aides were questioned about the “asshole” comment, rather than offering the candidate’s apologies for what he had said, they instead defended the remark, attributing it to justifiable ire over particular items Clymer had written about Bush’s career as Governor of Texas. “There’s been a series of articles [by Clymer] that the governor has felt have been very unfair,” said Bush’s communications director, Karen Hughes.

When directly asked about his remark, Mr. Bush responded, “I regret that a private comment I made to the vice-presidential candidate made it into the public airwaves,” which was not an apology. When pressed as to whether he would apologize, he replied, “I was making a comment to . . . Cheney. I didn’t realize, obviously, the mikes were going to pick it up.”

Not even an apology for using the term. Stay classy, President Bush.

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J: If you can’t see or acknowledge the difference between these two scenarios, you are either blind or being willfully obstinate.

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FC: I have no idea how these two scenarios are different except for the R and D labels, which apparently makes all the difference for you.

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J: That’s crap and you know it.

Let me point out the two obvious differences since you refuse to acknowledge them:

1) Bush’s comment was directed at a specific individual for specific cause. Are you familiar with Clymer’s articles? Or are you just going on the basis of the use of the word “asshole”?

Meanwhile, Jones’ comment was a categorical characterization of all Republicans because . . . um, because he doesn’t like the fact that Republicans haven’t rolled over to Obama’s agenda? Nice.

2) Bush’s comment was not meant for public broadcast (but shit happens). Jones’ comment was made during a public presentation while being videotaped.

You know I am not a fan of Bush. But I sure as hell can appreciate calling someone an asshole when they wrong you. And surely you can, too.

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FC: it’s because he’s black, isn’t it?

***

J: LOL

The Mouse House is apparently looking at buying the House of Ideas. This seems like a positive for both companies, as Marvel would be joining forces with one of the most recognized companies in the world and Disney would have access to Marvel’s seemingly endless supply of superheroes. Disney would more than likely see an increase in its appeal among boys and possibly see Pixar movies involving the Marvel characters (hell, this 37-year old is excited about that possibility).

But are there risks involved with this buy-out? Jokes are made in the above article about Spider-Man appearing in A Bug’s Life sequel, but could Disney actually end up affecting the presentation/appearance of Marvel superheroes in future movies/video games/products?

See for yourself below the Disney buyout of Marvel gone wrong:

Listen to this:

Now, if you’re anything like me, you can’t listen to this beautiful piece of music without thinking of this:

Or try listening to Wagner’s “Ride of the Valkyries” without thinking of this:

During my formative years I watched a lot of Merrie Melodies cartoons, and while Bugs and Daffy will always hold a special place in my heart (if you don’t know how to respond when I say “Wabbit season!” I can’t be friends with you), Chuck Jones and his crew absolutely ruined me on classical music.  I often wonder what it would be like to listen to  Strauss’ “Blue Danube”, and not automatically think of Bugs slapping Elmer Fudd, or not immediately associate Franz Von Suppe’s “Morning, Noon and Night in Vienna” with Bugs Bunny conducting an orchestra. I suppose I should be fair and say it’s not all Mr. Jones’ fault: “The Lone Ranger” ruined Rossini’s “William Tell Overture” for me, and I can’t hear Beethoven’s “Ode to Joy” without thinking of Nakatomi Plaza.  But still, it was those Saturday morning cartoons that led me to connect so many pieces of music with animation – and today those hi-jacked works are the only classical music I’ve ever bought.  Hell, I even bought Bugs Bunny on Broadway.

One of the few classical music CDs I own

Because the Merrie Melodies cartoons are no longer being aired on Saturday mornings, I don’t believe my daughters will have this problem, and honestly I’m a little jealous of them in that respect.  My older daughter takes piano, and I eagerly await the day she’ll be able to play even a simplified piece of Strauss’ “Danube”, and be able to ask her what the music brings to mind for her.  Maybe even get an idea of what Strauss himself intended.

I know it won’t be Daffy Duck.

Science is more than your seventh grade teacher droning on about nematodes.  Science can be funny, and NCBI ROFL is proof.  Rectal salami.  The correlation between ass size and penis length.  Dolphin tattoos.  The possibilities are endless.

Read and enjoy.

Careful! These brownies are special, and not in a good way.

There’s an email being forwarded around quite a bit that tells the story of a couple kids who want to go see a popular and critically successful movie that has material that some people might find objectionable, perhaps a sex scene, perhaps some language. The father of these two boys, who believes they should not go see the movie, attempts to teach them a lesson about the dangers of such entertainment by baking a batch of brownies and telling his sons that he’s used the highest quality ingredients, but added only a smidgen of horse manure to the batter. He then asks his sons if they feel “only a smidgen” of manure matters in the brownies, which otherwise are perfectly edible and tantalizing. The lesson, of course, is that the little bit of objectionable material ruins the entire thing, whether it be a film, a television show or a book, and is even potentially harmful.

This parable irritates me because the analogy it makes is patently false; viewing a movie or reading a novel containing some objectionable material and digesting manure-tainted brownies are two completely different processes. Most people, by using their brains (though I might be already assuming too much), can differentiate between what is “good” and what is “bad.” I’ve even heard that parents can teach their children to do so, and not be subject to the corruptive influence of the media (cue ominous music). The stomach, however, cannot differentiate between brownie batter and manure, and will attempt to digest everything that enters it. Yes, garbage-in/garbage-out works in the case of the stomach, but it’s not quite so easy when considering the brain.

For example, I teach Huckleberry Finn every year. The novel uses the word “nigger” a little over 200 times, and, if the above parable and its adherents are to be believed, after reading it, a reader should be more likely to actually use the word. But of course that’s ridiculous – it doesn’t happen. My students recognize the context of the word’s use and know that it is a word they neither want to use nor will use.

This modern-day parable is also refuted by the Bible, both in verse and as a work. There are any number of risque passages in the Old and New Testaments; a particular passage about a former prostitute and her longings for the old days comes to mind (Ezekial 23:19-20). There are many more like this one that you won’t hear on Sunday mornings, but were considered crucial by those compiling the books of the Bible. But no one’s calling to purge these verses from the work; in fact, my church gives copies of an unedited Bible to our fourth graders (gasp!). But we’re Lutheran, so we’ve historically been rebels.

The point? Every one of us has been blessed with a brain, and I’m troubled by how many people choose not to use it. As I’ve stated time and time again in my classes, context counts. And there’s a vast difference in reading the word “nigger” in Huck Finn and reading it in Klan propaganda, or between nudity seen when watching Schindler’s List and some late night Cinemax flick. If you suggest otherwise, you’re shoveling your special brownie ingredient.

One of the great mysteries of life has been solved. Namely, we now have a way to protect our bananas. According to the product’s website, The Banana Saver is “designed to protect individual bananas on the go from getting bruised until time of consumption.” This is going to revolutionize America’s lunchtime habits.

What a great idea! It's such a sleek, slim, non-suggestive shape!

Imagine the joy this simple device could bring. Imagine smiling women everywhere withdrawing their Banana Savers from their handbags when lunch break finally rolls around and leaving their offices to enjoy a little treat. Imagine them returning to their desks, satisfied and ready to take on the afternoon’s work.

Here's what it looks like when it's upright.

You can buy this amazing device at any number of internet retailers. Rush out and get yours today! No batteries required.

Just fooling around here a bit: I’m neither ambitious enough nor knowledgeable enough about the game itself to parody the entirety of Eliot’s poem.

For John Updike, a baseball poet.

APRIL is the cruellest month, breeding
Snowdrop out in Arizona, mixing
Memory and desire, stirring
Pennant thoughts with spring training.
Winter kept us warm, covering
Earth in forgetful snow, feeding
A little life with free agency rumors.
Percival surprised us, shunning Steinbrenner
For a fever of Rays; we stopped at the stadium,
And went on to Friday’s, into the Biergarten,
And drank our brews, and talked for an hour:
“How can you be a Yankees fan? You’re from Boston!”
And when we were children, watching our heroes,
My brothers, we went out to the park,
With our father. He said, Michael,
Michael, hold the ball light. Like an egg.
In the ballpark, there you feel free.
I read SI, much of the night, and watch ESPN in the winter.

What are these fans who whistle, what people show

Support for this ‘roidy rubbish? Son of man,

You cannot say, or guess, for you know only

A heap of broken idols. Steroid-fueled feats,

Bonds deserves no pinch runner, Clemens no relief,

And the spot light glares on all. Only

There is shadow within this diamond

(Come in under the shadow of this diamond),

And I will show you something different from either

Your chemical fed athlete hiding behind the MLBPA,

Or your money-led mercenary driven by dollars, not team;

I will show you joy in a child’s game.

Frisch weht der Wind

Der aubenfeld

Mein fanger,

Was hast zeichen?

“Ripken gave us hyacinths first ten years ago;”

“We called him the Iron Man.”

–Yet when he retired, late in ‘01, from the O’s,

His arms weary, though his soul not spent, we could not

Speak, and our eyes wept. He was neither

Mercenary nor cheat, and we knew something,

Looking into that heart of might, the silence.

Oed’ und leer das Verband.

Where have you gone, Cal Ripken, Jr.? A nation turns its lonely eyes to you. Baseball needs its heroes. America needs baseball.

On Saturday night at midnight, my pre-ordered copy of Guitar Hero: Metallica became available at my local video game dealer. They opened the door at midnight especially for those of us who just couldn’t wait until Sunday morning. Of course, I was involved in a heated bout of darts and tap beers, so I ended up waiting until Sunday after all.

On Sunday, though, the glory of this latest installment in the Guitar Hero family of games shone down upon me. I spent hours playing the game, first tinkering with some of the quickplay options, later completing 48% of the story mode. I rate this game a rock-solid 9/10.

Like Guitar Hero: World Tour and Rock Band, this game allows four-player gameplay including guitar, bass, drums, and vocals.

For starters, the game is amazing to look at. Every menu has been customized to reflect Metallica’s logos, old t-shirt designs, and other metalhead content. While actually playing the game, the animated James, Lars, Kirk, and Rob are more lifelike than any Guitar Hero characters ever. Having seen Metallica in concert many times, I can attest that the animated characters don’t just look like the real thing; they behave like the real thing, too. Trujillo stalks and storms, Hetfield gestures to the crowd, Lars stands up at the drum set, and Kirk wanders around like some confused, Satanic waif. It’s pretty much perfect.

Is it real or is it Guitar Hero?

The song selection available in Guitar Hero: Metallica is impressive. The vast majority of the tracks are drawn from Metallica’s career, with a smaller selection of songs chosen by the band from artists who influenced them. My only complaint about the game–the reason I rate it 9 instead of 10–involves the song selection. In the repertoire of Metallica songs, I just don’t understand the selection of “Frantic.” I hate this song. It feels like the game creators were cruising along and selecting great old Metallica songs…and suddenly thought, “Oh, crap. We should include something from St. Anger.” No. No, you shouldn’t. That album is trash. I’m also not crazy about “All Nightmare Long,” but I’ll get over it. In the non-Metallica track list, I can do without Corrosion of Conformiy’s “Albatross.” This song is repetitive and uninspired. It does not ROCK. Conversely, Mastodon’s “Blood and Thunder” does, indeed, rock…but the vocals are of the Cookie-Monster variety. That’s just not fun to try to sing. Even considering these weak points, the song selection is, as I mentioned earlier, impressive. Metallica songs from their best albums (Kill ‘Em All, Ride the Lightning, Master of Puppets, and …And Justice For All) abound.

Guitar Hero: Metallica also raises the bar of difficulty in the world of “rock star” type games. There’s a new Expert Plus mode for drums that includes double kick pedals for the bass drum. Also, the complex guitar solos make many of the songs difficult to play on guitar, even on the Medium difficulty setting. I can see that I’ll be spending many, many hours trying to work my way up to Hard or Expert.

On the whole, the game creators responsible for Guitar Hero: Metallica have programmed a masterpiece. As soon as I can speak again (my vocal cords are shot from fronting my band), I’m going to tell everyone I know to go out and buy it.

Do you remember the Berries and Cream Starburst commercial? It wasn’t on TV for very long, probably because it’s disturbing in the extreme. In case you haven’t seen it, check it out below.

Link

The first time I saw this, I swore I was watching one of those Saturday Night Live spoof commercials. I just can’t believe that any kind of candy could require a commercial spokesman this WEIRD.

As if the original commercial wasn’t enough, some kind soul on YouTube (may his or her soul rot in the filthiest corner of the stinkiest bathroom in hell) made a remix, complete with techno music and crazed repetitions of the goofy guy’s most bizarre moments. Enjoy, if you dare.

Link

Now, go to YouTube and leave the user who created that some hate mail comments.

Topic proposed by Tallgirl:

Think back to your childhood — and by childhood I’m going to go with anything prior to graduation from high school. What were the events that really had an impact on you?

Mine include:

• My grandfather’s death when I was 7. Even though he’d had a stroke when I was in kindergarten and was largely incapacitated for two years, it never occurred to me that he’d ever die.
• Best friend’s seizures/epilepsy diagnosis when we were 11.
• The wave of “oops” babies that appeared in all of my friends’ families when we were 11-13. It was my first exposure to child development and I remember being fascinated by how they learned and what they learned.
• Opening my SAT scores and sort of collapsing onto the stairs, realizing at 16 that I wasn’t going to have to stay in that town forever. I hadn’t really given it conscious thought up to that point, but I remember the phrase, “this is my ticket out of here” running through my head. Sounds terrible now, doesn’t it?
• My father being hit by a car and having major back injuries when I was 17. It totally changed my perception of my place in the world and made me realize that I had to grow up and take responsibility for things.

BigRedPoet

• My brothers and I played baseball with the neighborhood kids all day every day during the summers. I was one of the biggest kids in the neighborhood, and I could hit pretty much any pitch any kid could throw. By the time I was about 14, I thought I was pretty good. Meanwhile, I knew my dad had pitched city league fastpitch softball when I was a kid. He would toss baseballs to me the back yard, but he never really pitched to me…so I challenged him to come out back and see if he could strike me out. He did. Three times in a row. On the last pitch, he somehow got the ball to break up and in. I was swinging at a pitch that looked like it was right down the middle…and the next moment I was dodging before it hit me in the head. I remember thinking to myself, “Holy shit. He’s good.“
• The same group of kids that played baseball also built a HUGE treefort in the woods behind our neighborhood. I don’t think any of our parents had a hammer or a nail handy for years because we stole every last stinking one. The final product was three stories, including a roof over the top one. It was about thirty feet long and about twelve feet wide. It involved logs, two-by-fours, nails, rope, and just about anything else you can imagine. One fine day, this kid named Lenny shows up. Apparently, he’s a nephew or a grandkid to some family way down at the end of the neighborhood. Eventually , we all end up in the treefort. For reasons known only to him, Lenny climbs out onto the roof and begins doing some sort of ridiculous dance while singing the theme song from the Smurfs cartoon. Suddenly, the roof cracks in two, dumping Lenny right into the top floor of the treefort, where several of us are hanging out. The combined weight of the strange kind and the ceiling causes the top floor crack, falling into the next (also full of kids), which cracks and dumps us all, about 15 kids, into a screaming, bleeding, broken-boned heap on the ground. An ambulance came and took Jimmy to the hospital for his shattered humerus.
• One of my earliest memories (I have no idea how old I was or even which house we were living in) is of building a snowman in the yard with my mother. The bottom section was huge, and we’d rolled a pretty big snowball to be the middle. When she lifted the second snowball to stack it atop the first, my mom tipped over backward into the snow. I remember her laying there in the snow, with a giant snowball on top of her, laughing so hard she couldn’t get up.
• My family dog was run over while following me across the street to the neighbor’s house. I didn’t know she was back there.
• When I was 14, I shot my first deer. After my dad helped me gut it out, he reached across the carcass and shook my hand. Like men do.
• When I was 10 or so, a kid named Jacob was abducted from the nearby farm town just ten miles up the road or so. He has never been found.

Juggernaut:

Interesting topic. Trying to think back that far, and trying to think of such events that had an impact on me, makes me think I was something of a cold bastard. But here’s what I came up with.

• There was a kid that lived down the street that got hit by a car when he ran a stop sign at the base of a steep hill riding on his mini-bike. I remember hearing screams (his <shudder>) and Careflight coming, landing pretty much in front of our house. While he was the first kid FlashCap [my twin brother] and I met when we moved there, by that point I (and probably FC) didn’t like him much (he was probably going to turn out to be a serial killer, IMO). So that didn’t really “change my life.”
• Freshman year of high school, maybe sophomore. In the high school weight room with FC after school. We are getting ready to do some bench press, and I decide that I want to try 35-lb plates (maybe 45-lb) on each side. This was new to both FC and I as all we had done up to that point was universal machines in 7th and 8th and a little weight bench at home that had those concrete-filled plastic weights. A little sh*t that had for some reason tormented me since 7th grade (I couldn’t exactly beat him up because it would have made me look bad for picking on this little dude) came up to me and said “yeah, right”, etc., indicating that I wouldn’t be able to bench it. I laid down on the bench, and threw it up in quick succession 10 times, then moved up the weight. Never heard a f*cking word from that little dude again. FC even commented that he was impressed when we were leaving. That really made me feel good. Great, really.
• Hanging out with the stock crew at Winn-Dixie after work. That was kind of significant to me, thinking back. It was the first time I moved outside of my and FC’s circle of friends (which included CowboyFromHeck) on my own. I think it prepared me for my going off to undergrad completely on my own as no one I knew was going to my college of choice.

FlashCap:

• Juggernaut hitting me with a toy (metal!) shovel and giving me 10 stitches in my nose, and a scar for life. Hey, Juggernaut, I’ve never forgiven you for that.
• My best friend getting hit by a car while on a little mini-bike. Juggernaut laughed at his screams. Hey, Juggernaut, I’ve never forgiven you for that.
• Juggernaut not letting me bench press after he showed up that little f*cker – his exact words were “Grab the towel, bitch, we’re outta here!” I muttered something about wanting to bench press, too, but Juggernaut for some reason just smiled and walked out. I had to go, because Juggernaut was my spotter. Hey, Juggernaut, I’ve never forgiven you for that.
• Staying at home, alone, waiting for Juggernaut to come home from work so we could spend more time palling around and joking around with one another before we went our separate ways in college. Come to find out, though, that Juggernaut is getting drunk in the Winn-Dixie parking lot with his “real friends.” Hey, Juggernaut, I’ve never forgiven you for that.