Tuesday, December 30, 2008
The Force is with me, found this test on Utah Savages' site that "determines" what science fiction character I am and it turns out I'm Obi-Wan Kenobi. That is the freaking best news I have had in a couple of weeks. Got to admit though that I answered my questions on a fairly high New Age psycho-babble level since while I don't really follow any organized religion, I don't believe humans have discovered all that makes up reality and the universe. Now please understand that my sanity, while out in interstellar space, does exist although I admit it's true shape is yet to be determined. There is no ghost in my house for me to talk with other than my sex life. I don't go around tracking Bigfoot where I live for the simple matter the first time he pooped in someone's yard in all these subdivisions he would be hunted down and killed. The only UFO's I believe in are the ones that stole Saddam's weapons of mass destruction just to make Bush look bad. And I only wear my aluminum foil hat when my in-laws come over. But I do have evidence of the la Chupacabra since I dated her once....or twice, and no, I didn't marry her. Thats is a whole other story.
Saturday, December 27, 2008
Chimpanzees are not the nice cute creatures some believe or others would like to make us think. It has been fairly well documented that our closest cousins can easily display some of the worst aspects of homo sapien behavior. Jane Goodall's research has gone as far as describing chimpanzees practicing cannibalism, petty power struggles, and war. But like us they have also shown the other side practicing altruism, compassion, and reassurance.
When all things are generally considered though while we have created great works of art and literature, explored the reaches of both the sub-atomic and the intergalactic, built great cities and civilizations,and are trying to come to grips some of the worse aspects of our species. They at least don't have the ability to destroy the world and exclaim it is all worth it in the name of God, democracy, or free markets. And despite the following article I have this strange idea that if they were confronted with their version of our outgoing president they would recognize him for his true nature. Instead of electing him in the first place their basic instinct would probably have been to collect a hand full of poop and throw it at him, or a shoe if they had one close by.
Humans And Chimps Register Faces By Using Similar Brain Regions
ScienceDaily (Dec. 27, 2008) — Chimpanzees recognize their pals by using some of the same brain regions that switch on when humans register a familiar face, according to a report published online on December 18th in Current Biology, a Cell Press publication. The study—the first to examine brain activity in chimpanzees after they attempt to match fellow chimps' faces—offers new insight into the origin of face recognition in humans, the researchers said.
Saturday, December 20, 2008
My greatest Christmas wish is for a fallout shelter that I can shut myself in and not come out of until after New Year's Day. The simplest way to explain my total and unabashed embrace of Scrooge-ism is that while some still find joy in the celebration of religious holidays or reconnecting with family and friends I find this season to be awash in hyper-commercialism and corporate induced anxiety.
A much to recent visit to the true local place of worship, the mall, resulted in the observation of various individuals barely able to cope with factors such as child expectations and financial realities. Little Johnny, standing defiantly in the electronics department clutching a Playstation 3, just didn't have a clue why mommy's credit card was a molten puddle in her pocketbook. While such events have been common for decades I have personally reached the age that I increasingly want to disconnect totally from the "holiday season". Instead of sugar plums dancing in my head I have visions of a peaceful quiet place cut off from this joyous time.
A better and less claustrophobic Christmas wish would be a sailboat that I could cruise around the Caribbean in until such time people are talking about Valentine's Day. Spending Christmas Day on some secluded beach away from the greater mass of civilization could, in theory at least, spark a small rebirth of holiday spirit. Especially if there is a nice jerk chicken stand nearby with cold beer. If anyone out there can help a suffering Beach Bum please contact me. I swear these damn Christmas carols and television specials, overdone holiday decorations, mall zombies, spoiled brats, in-laws, and holiday traffic are going to send me into a coma. Wasn't the Recession suppose to put a damper on all this shit?
Saturday, December 13, 2008
Sunday, December 7, 2008
Randal did his part and then tagged me, along with several others. So if this doesn't make any sense drift over to his excellent place and see the beginning. I hope Randal is cool with what I have done and I hope I followed the rules. But here it goes. As for tagging someone else the only person that might come close to wanting to do this I know,and hasn't already been tagged, is Zombieslayer.
Entering Arkham the banner overhead told of the annual Vegetarian Zombies Association convention with the group's motto underneath, “The living are friends not food.” Somewhere underneath the Disneyworld castle I figured the frost burned body of old Walt was spinning in his frozen capsule with the living dead so obliviously stealing something, however obliquely, from one of his movies and his incestuous domain that his acolytes protected so feverishly. The villainous corporate rat versus the living dead, the zombies just don’t know what they may gotten themselves into. However, happily it wasn’t my fight and I soon saw the bus approaching my destination.
We pulled into the bus station with an ease that seemed bizarre for the pretty young maniac that had piloted this contraption that was probably held together just with good intentions, duct tape, and maybe some sticky slime if the condition of the bus floor was any example. She collected her jacket as she adjusted her miniskirt that had ridden further up her thigh exposing a tattoo of some cute teddy bear eating the remains of a small child, the symbol of an old rock band whose music now was standard on the oldies and easy listening stations these days. I felt the old stirrings of youth and lust just under the surface of my ancient and stoic exterior, so much so that I focused my electric eye ever closer on the near busting cleavage her blouse barely contained. My mind began wandering and for someone like me that is always a mistake.
“So how about asking me about Dagon?” I heard her say which brought me back quickly to this particular reality. I looked up refocusing my eye to see her standing right next to me, her face cold and so lovely inhuman with her black hair flowing off the side of one shoulder.
“Excuse me miss?” I coughed out startled and embarrassed.
“If you want to do more than just look at the goods you have to come to our seminar. Dagon will not only show you the path to eternal glory and power but we have timeshares on the coast that frankly only foolish mortals would pass up.”
The vision before me now seemed tainted and spoiled. Dagon was nothing but a minor real estate deity hawking cheap condos and low financing, such a waste. After disengaging myself from her the best I could I made my way off the bus careful not to forget the small leather bag I was carrying and began walking through the bus station looking for the entity that I had to give the bag.
The whole spectrum of living, living dead, undead, possessed, phantoms, and spirits mingled in the dirty environment of Arkham’s bus station. My electric eye caught sight of some poor zombie, apparently here for the convention, on his cell phone trying to explain to his wife how he fell off the wagon and ate some living person. The sadness I saw in his eyes was awful, even the one hanging out the socket dangling by the crusty remains of his optic nerve. However, sitting off away from all the rest was some very pale fellow dressed in nice black slacks, white oxford shirt, black jacket and shoes holding a sign that said: Winford Picklesworth, the entity I was suppose to meet.
Walking up to him I quickly realized that Winford was a vampire. We exchanged greetings with me careful not to expose my neck and tempt the undead creature with my old but still valuable blood.
“Not to worry sir,” he politely said. “I’m just here to get my package from you.” Instantly I felt at ease with this creature of the night and didn’t know why. While for mortal appearances he looked around his late twenties to early thirties my experienced guess was that he had to be closer to three hundred.
“Well young man,” taking into account what I thought his true age was, “here you go. “I must say that while professionally I shouldn’t ask I’m curious to why so much would be spent to pay for an in person delivery?” As soon as the words left my mouth I figured the good undead man would go all vampire and do something like rip my head off.
“I’m so glad you asked.” Winford said as he took possession of the leather bag and opened it. “Because when I get a chance to praise the Lord to the unsaved I feel it is my duty to spread his word.”
In shock I recoiled to see him pull out a specially crafted cross and bible from the bag. It was then I realized that I had run across the strangest thing in at least three parallel universes. He was a member of “Vampires for Jesus” and the cross and bible I brought for him and been specially blessed by none other than big dude in Rome. Needless to say I got the hell out of there claiming that my electric eye was about to die out. As I walked away I couldn’t help but wonder where in the world did freaks like him come from?
Saturday, December 6, 2008
Holy warp drive, phasers, and antimatter! The Hollywood establishment might have made a Star Trek movie that may actually be worth the eight dollar ticket. Getting seriously Trek nerdy here but for years I lived off the adventures of Kirk, Spock, McCoy, and Scotty. Rerun after freaking rerun I gladly watched Kirk bag the hot alien chick, Spock deal with his interstellar mother issues, McCoy tell everyone time and time again that he was a doctor damn it, and Scotty rig up the warp drive like a Christmas tree to get just a little more warp power. Of course I lusted after Uhura like you wouldn't believe, but I just will not go into that.
Then Roddenberry had to bring in the Next Generation crew and while they were good for a few laughs I just couldn't feel the same about them since Picard had to have a staff meeting to discuss implications for the Federation if he took a crap while on patrol next the neutral zone, and turning over the Enterprise to Riker was sure fire way to get the ship blown up or at least taken over by hostile aliens. I swear there were times I wished Worf would have gone all Klingon on them sometimes. Especially after the last three Next Generation movies that frankly I wish someone could tell me didn't seriously suck on all counts. And don't get me started on Wesley Crusher, if that character wasn't a reason to root for the Borg to collectivize the whole lot then I'm a primate's uncle.
For those wondering no, I do not have a stash of Star Trek toys, I got rid of them a few years ago but I do still have my plastic Vulcan ears. Long live and prosper, y'all.