Final Destiny

And given how highly I think of Ghost in the Shell SAC, that's saying something.
Somewhat on a side note, I do find it funny that I've been writing more or less nonstop since about 9:30am this morning and what do I do when I finally finish working at 10pm, but blog about the movie I just treated myself to. Go figure.

On a whim (and because my eyes were hurting so bad, I couldn't draw), I decided to watch Robocop tonight during dinner. It's the story of a corporation that buys Detroit and one deceased police officer who gets turned into a cyborg cop. And that's the first half-hour. This really is one of the finest movies made during the 80s and a worthy brother to the likes of Terminator, Aliens, and others. It is for science fiction what Interview for a Vampire is for vampire movies, Labrynth is for fantasy, and Ninja Scroll is for anime. It's seldom remembered these days, but at the same time, whispers of a remake/reboot are met with ire, wrath, or similarly negative emotions.

For me, watching Robocop was sort of like running into a high school flame years after college graduation, only to find she's a lot smarter and prettier than I remembered (does the name Kendal McCormick ring a bell?). Robocop ages extremely well. Sure the cars look dated and much of the technology is a little rusty by our standards. But it simply doesn't matter. While this is a cyberpunk tale, it is by no means about the technology. And the career-defining performance by Peter Weller is simply stunning. Nancy Allen, that immortal heart-throb for 80s nerds everywhere, does a fine job as well, but Ronny Cox and Kurtwood Smith are the real powerhouses who deliver with every single line.

Watching this movie reminds me why I became an author and why I'm a science fiction fan to begin with. This was just the type of thing I needed after a day like today.

Episode 063 of Self-Alignment will focus mostly on teenage bondage atop a construction site.
I have no idea where the f*&k this came from, but man it hit like a ton of bricks. My story completely hijacked itself for the episode and has produced something...well, kind of uncomfortable. But I figure if the story wants to go this way, why not? To date, I have never regretted letting my story have free reign went it wanted to go out on its own. Let's see what this produces.

In other news, I've been asked to write a CD review. Unfortunately, the CD is kind of busted and won't play on any of my computers. I broke out my CD player and, well, it kind of broke that too. The 5-disc player stopped spinning and refused to stop trying to spin. Given there's no manual release, I was worried me and Mr. Screwdriver were going to have to go techno-speluncking again. But as I got up to find my axe tools, I inadvertanly hit the device (no, really, had I meant to hit it, I'd totally own up to it). When I did, the CD player immediately started working properly and has done so since.
Let it never be said that kung fu doesn't fix things.

The more and more I watch G4 and learn about Adam Sessler specifically, the more I'm convinced I want to meet the man. He strikes me as that balance between a journalist and a real person that so few in the field accomplish. Throw in video games and it gets much better.

I can't say quite fully why this video resonated with me so fully (and I don't have time today to ponder it), but watch it. Pay less attention to the game and more the discussion of the 'experience'. He's really onto something with this.

So Lilian Garcia retired tonight from announcing for the WWE. It was a sad occasion because she was one of my favorite personalities.

In the world of public speaking, wrestling announcers are just below stand-up comics an Shakespearean performers. Their job is to basically charge-up the crowd in ways the high-flying simulated violence won't. Because not all pro wrestlers are gifted with the charisma or mike skills necessary to truly sell their personnas, announcers are brought in to help sell the characters.
Lilian isn't one of these types of announcers, but is of the more traditional variety. She announced the matches, the wrestlers, etc. She was probably one of the most legitimate personalities on the whole show. In addition to that, she is an accomplished singer. Her departure is sad, for it is the end of an era. She was and is one of the best in the business and she will be missed.

So you know how I complain so much about not having any time? Well, allow me to show you where my time is going.

I published a scholarly article exploring anime. It's a discussion of anime and what makes it unique, above and beyond the graphic style. It's on the long side (as most scholarly articles are) and it's one of the most ambitious things I've done (with nothing to say of released) in quite some time.
Unfortunately, I couldn't find a place to publish it. It was quite strange. All the anime outlets didn't feel like they had a place for a scholarly article...and all the authorative art and Geek Chic outlets didn't want an article on anime. So, for lack of anywhere else to release it, I released it at Teach The Sky.

Anyway, take a look at it. It's not for the feint of heart, but this does represent one of the most consolidated evaluations of anime I've ever seen (and believe me, I've looked). I am hoping for this to be the first of many such articles that look deep into assorted Geek Chic topics.

HOLY $#!T



I want one.

I've found it. I've found it. I have found IT.
What, you ask? I have found the awesomest thing ever. Feel complete. Feel relieved. Feel whole. Because from this moment on, you can know that the universe has achieved it's fullest potential. You can know that the greatest heights of awesomest have been reached. Forget Chuck Norris. Forget Crazy Indian-guy-stabbing-two-lions-in-the-heads. I give you:

THE AWESOMEST PICTURE EVER SEEN

Seriously. You will never see anything that awesome again. No, stop trying to argue. You won't. Ever. EVER.

So I'm down here in Raleigh on a bit of a family emergency (nothing serious; a professional identity crisis). I still stole away last night to go to the role-playing game, but otherwise I was going to spend the weekend with my sister and mother.

The problem with that was earlier today, when my sister and I drove over to my mother's place we saw a bunch of accidents. There were cars driven off the road and collisions all over the place. When we got here, my mother said that there've been a bunch of accidents because of all the homeless that seem to have moved to Raleigh of late. The problem is that they're not panhandlers, they seem to be more violent than that. There've been reported attacks and everything.
The only homeless guy we saw was on the road near an accident. He actually may have been in the accident because he looked covered in blood. But my sister didn't want to stop and, when I protested, gave me a purple nurple to silence my protest.

I've been studying the news of late. There are a couple of links here.

I typically wake up and turn on the tv, as the sound helps rouse me. For whatever reason, I left the tv on FX last night and this morning, they're showing Mortal Kombat Annihilation. So, alarm goes off, I hit 'power', and kind of roll back to get my thoughts together. And then, from out of nowhere, I hear:

"MORTAL KOMBAT!!!"



Needless to say, I am wide f*&king awake.

My newest serial, Self-Alignment is now live. The first five episodes are up, so please go check it out. It's a story of self-exploration and self-discovery and self-actualization and a bunch of other self-whatevers, with some healthy fight scenes and explosions tossed in, as well as some of my love of the urban world.

I'm hoping to make this a bit funnier than what I've written in the past, especially in juxtaposition to Epi. I think it's got a ways to go before I strike the balance of seriousness and comedy that I'm looking for. I'm trying to mix one-part Better Off Ted, with one part Donnie Yen's Fist of Fury, and one-part Battle Angel Alita, with some healthy doses of A-Team along with a few dashes of the first Triple XXX movie for good measure.



Before I go, I'd also like to give a big ole shout-out of 'you rock'-atude to XM radio. Today they played the Akira soundtrack on their Cinemagic channel, which in my neighborhood, we call awesome.

An all-day Burn Notice marathon, Casino Royale, the Burn Notice season premier, and the series premier of Burn Notice-meets-House?



If I wasn't buried under prep-work for OMGcon, this would be a truly awesome day.

A more detailed report will appear on TtS tomorow. For now, the highlights include...

- Selling out of three books, which leaves me with almost no merchandise for OMGcon this weekend.
- Coming within a hair's breadth of forming my own publishing company.
- Having some great panels, with none attended to by less than ten people.
- Having some awesome fun outside the con.

It was a great con, but not without its problems. All in all, I'm half-dead so I'll leave it there. But big things are popping and little things are stopping, so there's more to come.

( Star Trek )

Final Score: B-



( Wolverine )

Final Score: G- for GOD AWFUL!!!

I want to see a horror movie where the family dog is the chief protaganist. I caught a few moments of the Hills Have Eyes and they showed a dog attacking one of the bad guys. Without having seen the film, I don't know the context, but it did get me thinking. What if you had some family that rescued dogs, and the family gets killed by zombies or mutants or CHUDs? And Bowser decides it wants revenge? Seriously, it'd be like Lasie meets Last House On The Left. I don't know that the movie would be "good", but it could sure as hell be entertaining.



And in a similar vein, my grandfather's health continues to decline. My mother went down to Flordia and has confirmed that we're dealing with days. Of course, I can't help but remember when we've been down this road a few times previously. See, my grandfather's a World War II vet. They tend to die hard.
Anyway, I was talking with my mother about all of this. And she was telling me that my grandfather's refusing to drink or eat and doesn't recognize anyone. Moreover his skin's become ashen and he's started biting at anyone who comes too near.

I can already tell that there are a few of you in the audience who are now thinking what I was then.

"Mom?" I asked. "Are you sure grandpa isn't a zombie?"
There was a pause. Why was there a pause, you ask? Because I'm pretty damn sure she was wondering that too. She took a second, but finally laughed and said "no, we're pretty sure he's not".
Just the same, I'm brushing up on my zombie survival skills.

Today is 4-20. And for me, today has been filled with references to getting high, getting stoned, and all things pot-related. I'm fairly pro-pot. I don't smoke it and have no interest in starting, but it doesn't bother me if and when others do it. I advocate the legalization of marijuana, but largely because of my opposition to the hypocracy of legal tobacco. The benefits of hemp just seal the deal for me.

But I do draw the line at marijuana. When I lived in Louisville, I was around a lot of people who did Ecstasy and when I lived in Salt Lake City, I was around a lot of people who did a lot worse. And I've never seen anything good come from any of those drugs.
I don't lump marijuana in with drugs, but since it's today, I figured the connection was close enough.


Before there was punk rock or gangsta rap, there was country. Specifically, there was a dark brand of country that terrified the religous right. This type of country talked about violence, gangs, sex, drugs, and many of the social ills that everyone knew about and no one talked about. And the forefather of all of this was one Johnny Cash.
Cash's music was incindiary on many levels. It broke numerous social and musical conventions about what could and could not be sung about, live or recorded. And Cash, with his own criminal record, was hardly the type of man many people wanted to be popular at the time.

Johnny Cash came from an era that recognized musical performance more than musical origination. That is, it was an era when songs were passed around joint. When a new, hit song hit, everybody and their mother covered it. This trend was continued throughout Cash's career, all the way to 2002, when he released American IV, which had the cover of a Nine Inch Nails song.

There have been a lot of songs written throughout the ages about drugs. Some have been thinnly veiled, others not so much. Many, especially in the modern era, have typified the modern attitude towards drugs, which is one of permission if not advocation. But there are also songs, new and old, which sing about the horrors of drug abuse and the agony of addiction. And if ever there was a song that would truly scare you out of doing drugs this would be it.

If you turn on just about any pop radio station, it's unlikely you'll hear songs more than twenty years old. The same is true for dance stations, country stations, rap stations. But not heavy metal. Turn on any hard rock or metal station and there's a good chance you'll hear music that goes back twenty, thirty, even forty years. And when you get that far back, almost invariably, the music you'll be hearing belongs to the grandfathers of metal, Black Sabbath.

Sabbath's influence cannot be understated. Many bands have influenced a sub-style or even an entire genre of music. But you can count on one hand the number of bands that have influenced EVERY band in a genre. Ask any member of any hard rock/heavy metal band if Sabbath was an influence to them and you will get a resounding yes. Few other bands, if any, can make such a claim.
The reason for Sabbath's influence was part talent, part style, and part serendipity. Theirs was a style born out of post-WWII Britain, when there was no economy and no hope. This was a time of darkness and gloomy heartlessness unbeknownst to many in this world. Out of this dismal environment came four brothers-in-arms from a tough steel town. How tough? The lead guitarist lost the tips of his fingers in an industrial accident and rather than give up music or learn to play right-handed, instead made himself a pair of artificial fingertips so he could keep playing. This kind of dogged determination shared by the entire band, coupled with Ozzy Osbourne's unique vocals and demonic lyrics and Tommy Iommi's unparalleled guitar playing which sounded like the rumbles of ancient devils from the deepest bowels of hell, Black Sabbath had all the makings of a cult band that would live on in the memories of a select few. But with the sheer fortune of being the right band with the right sound at the right time, this band would make their mark on an entire generation and generations to come.

Black Sabbath has produced some of the most influential songs ever recorded, in the metal genre or otherwise. They've been known for taking the hard rock influences of the Rolling Stones, Led Zeppelin, and other groups, and distilling them into the pure form we now know as heavy metal. But for all their songs, for all their achievements, their influence can be traced back to a single, ground-breaking song: a horrifying tale of time-travel, the apocalypse, and the madness of becoming the horror you wanted to prevent.

In the world of music, there are bands which hit once with a single hit and are never heard from again, and then there are bands that deliver time and time again with chart-topping smashes. What is glossed over, however, is that there are bands that do fall in between. Bands that deliver quite a few hit songs, but still remain known for one song, a song which stands above all the others.

This week's band is, by comparison to the previous musical acts, quite new. Having formed in 1988 and hit big in the early nineties as part of the alternative scene, they are a band that is as musically diverse as they are polarizing. Just about everybody has an opinion of this band, their music, or the very least their quizzical frontman. But while opinions may vary, there is no doubting that everyone has an opinion of the Smashing Pumpkins.

They've had many songs hit it big. Probably their most commercially successful was the party anthem 1979, or the almost-close-to-maybe-being-mistaken-for-optimistic Today. But despite their list of hits and their secure place in the hearts of emo kids and wannabe goth kids, Smashing Pumpkins is known far and wide first and foremost for one song in particular. A song that has become an integral part of the cultural soundtrack that helped close out the second millenium, and assisted by a music video masterpiece that paid homage through recreation to the first science fiction film ever made, this song has become a cultural calling card and helped define the term sublime.

New Rule: The start of Daylight Savings Time has to be moved to April 1st, every year. Because honestly, what prank can compare to waking up to find the entire country's running an hour ahead?

Cliches are funny things because of the way something becomes cliche. It becomes cliche because it is so popular, it becomes overused. Basically, it becomes too recognizable, arguably too good. It is a heavy-handed approach, where subtlety is not just optioned against, but outright ignored. It's blatant and almost odious in its obviousness. And this week's offering is almost that exact definition.

Few songs have become so cliche and so marginalized as this week's choice. And the reason it has befallen this fate is because it's such a good song and so vivid and perfect in it's depiction of the bad boy, the anti-hero, the badass. Few songs are so instantly recognizable, largely because it contains one of rock and roll's most memorable guitar riffs. Born out of a veritable musical duel between Bo Diddley and Muddy Waters, this song took it's cues from the songs produced by that war and streamlined them, taking their blues sensibilities and refining them on the altar of hard rock. It was created by a well-established band with many credits to their name, both before and after this song came out in 1982. But they will forever be remembered, first and foremost, for creating one of cornerstones of modern rock.

Throughout the history of music, there have been plenty of tough songs, songs about the darker and more aggressive sides of humanity. But there have been few songs in this league. This music invokes images of leather, spikes, and motorcycles. Chains, tattoos, and bad attitudes. And at the end of the day, you cannot talk about hard songs and tough music without this song coming into play.

I've spent a good chunk of tonight watching a tribute to Chuck Jones. It follows some of the more memorable works he's done and a slew of the cartoons he did for Warner Brothers and MGM. It got me thinking about animation in general and the lack of avenues with which to appreciate it.
I've been to quite a few anime conventions, but I've never even heard of an actual 'animation' convention. I imagine they exist, but I'd be a little surprised if they existed outside of Carlifornia (that does seem to be where a lot of the cool stuff is these days). It'd be fun to spend a weekend discussing the virtues of the Warner pedigree and tracking the evolution of animation from Walt through Pixar. Not to mention the sheer joy that would exist in exploring what would happen if you locked Daffy Duck and Woody Woodpecker in a room together with a pair of shotguns.

I've started to roll around panel ideas for conventions. I don't think they'd be really appropriate for an anime convention, but I may mention them to a few of the head honchos I know to see what they say. But any exploration of modern entertainment invariably MUST include a discussion of the four animation powerhouses that came out of the US during the middle of the twentieth century (those being the yarstick by which all are measured, Disney; The Rolling Stones to Disney's Beetles, Warner Bros.; the oft-forgotten Walter Lantz; and the single greatest second-rate studio ever, Jay Ward ).

Everybody has a favorite Warner Bros cartoon. Everybody has a favorite Disney character. It'd be fun to surround yourself not only with other fans, but also to be in a place to discuss and enjoy, and to revel, in all the fun these cartoons provided the world.



And before anyone panics, no, they weren't forgotten.