National Pigeon Day Today

Did you buy your pigeon a card?

(via The Gothamist)

Palindrome time... in Slovenian

"Ona seksa skesano."

(She's having sex with remorse.)

Penis

In honor of The Incredible Hulk opening today, a song from the set of Flight Club.

Sound NSFW... as if you couldn't tell from the title.

(via JoBlo)

I wish Cronenberg was on the list

For those you don't know, Spore is the next game (or perhaps "game") by Will Wright (and team), maker of TheSims (and SimCity... and SimAnts... man, I loved SimAnts). It has gotten video game geeks and the industry at large all atwitter with anticipation.

Like TheSims in is a "sandbox" game, in that there aren't really goals. It gives you a bunch of tools and such to play with. In Spore you start with a single celled creature, swimming in the muck. Then you evolve. As you evolve, you (the player) get to craft your creature into whatever you want. Forming your creature like Playdoh, attaching parts and coloring it. You want to have a creature with three legs and claws? Fine. How about arms that come of its ass? Will do. Something with a head twice the size of the rest of its body? Yep. Nigh infinite possibilities. And all full animated. How does a seven legged, three armed, spiked butted creature walk? Fight? Love?

It doesn't stop there. From creature it evolves into a society. Tribes to civilization. Develop a society, create technologies, go to war. Eventually travel to space... and explore the universe. So everything from a single sell to the universe. Compelling, yes?

(PapaSix pointed out that for a game about evolution, it teaches a pro-intelligent design message. I'm looking forward to that debate.)

Now, a lot of folks are saying this will be bigger than TheSims. I doubt that. The people who say that are people who follow computer gaming blogs and read gaming magazines. Geeks, nerds, what have you. Me. TheSims is so successful because it basically is playing with dolls. Dress them up, give them furniture, play house. Spore, on the other hand, appeals to people who's school notebooks were filled with drawings of space creatures and space ships and the like. You know, the people who now read gaming blogs.

Both games to appeal to people who like to pull the wings off flies. Or build bathrooms with out doors. Or beings without anuses. So theres that.

Anywhozits, in a marketing genius move, EA is selling just the creature building portion part of the game, cleverly named Spore Creature Creator. Yeah, it's $10 demo. To create some buzz, they're holding a celebrity creature building contest. Celebrities will build a creature, they'll but them up on the web and the unwashed masses (people who read gaming blog) will vote. A lot of the names of on the list are gaming bloggers and the like (celebrity is a flexible concept). But some...

• Stan Lee
• Richard Branson
• David Lynch
• Ellijah Wood
• Kevin Rose
• Mark Cuban
• Curt Schilling
• Kent Nichols
• Robert Scoble
• Veronica Belmont
• Carlos Santana
• Bijou Phillips
• Brian Crecente
  
• Flight of the Conchords

I have to say, I am very curious to what Lynch does. And Flight of the Conchords.

(via Kotaku)

"We are only as strong as the weakest brick..."

A Flickr group pool dedicated to the Lego apocalypse: ApocaLego.

It's no "Snakes. Why'd it have to be snakes?" but...

SPOILER ALERT.

I'm working my way through Frank Darabont's Indiana Jones IV draft that appeared on the interwebs. I'll chat more about it in more geek-obsessive-what-could-have-been detail later, but I did want to share my favorite line so far.

Bottom of page 64, after a hair raising biplane chase/fight scene.

INDY
The monkey pooped on my chest.

See? That's good writing!

No. Not that Christopher Scott.

No, I am not the male lead character of Miss Saigon.

Nor the Dallas actor with Downs syndrome (co-star of My Brother with Vanessa Williams)

Nor the dancer in Mariah Carey's Pepsi commerical and Step Up 2: The Streets.

Nor the director of Golf: The Musical.

I'm also not this singer.

And I am not Christopher Scott Emmett Virginian death row inmate.


I'm the other one.

Correction to last post... IN YOUR FACE!

After I made my last post (Cole Porter... IN YOUR FACE!), I decided that I should find a nice image of the costumes. And I stumbled on this poster. So, yes. It was shot for 3D. And, yes. The spanking scene is weird.

It's just a weird movie.

Cole Porter... IN YOUR FACE!

I watched the film version of Kiss Me Kate. Now, I am fully aware that Cole Porter musicals were just them coming up with a pseudo-plot to string together a few already written songs with a couple of specific songs written just for the show. (I can't believe Porter write a song about traveling actors traveling from on Italian town to the next before he realized the whole Taming of a Shew thing. Although, to be honest, it didn't actually have much to do with the play either). And the movie of course gets butchered even more by cramming it into and hour and a half. (Which does create the weird "We need to have Too Darn Hot because it's a hit song... but it doesn't fit... well, we'll sing it at the beginning and then just say it has been cut from the play within the movie." Weird.)

The weirdest thing was how it appeared the director thought he was shooting the movie in 3D. The actors kept throwing things at the camera lens. Maybe he thought it would make it more intimate. It just made it scary. Ahhh! A banana coming at me!

Then there is the song Tom, Dick and Harry. This is of course just a case of words taking on different meanings (I am assuming.) The chorus:

I'm a maid who would marry
And will take with no qualm
Any Tom, Dick or Harry,
Any Harry, Dick or Tom,
I'm a maid mad to marry
And will take double-quick
Any Tom, Dick or Harry,
Any Tom, Harry or Dick.

Harry and Dick doesn't sound quite right anymore, but I suppose if you're a maid mad to marry.... I lost it at the chant at the end:

A dicka dick,
A dicka dick,
A dicka dick,
A dicka dick!
A dicka dick,
A dicka dick,
A dicka dick...

Admitted catchy lyrics.

Plus side: The costumes of the play within the play were awesome, in a skin tight-Technicolor way.

Why a flailing economy brings joy

Staples.

That's right. Staples.

You see, I am a messy reader. I can be pretty hard on books. I don't know, I believe books should be experienced, not coddled. Whatever tome I am currently reading follows me everywhere. On the subway. In and out of my bag (with the melted gum from two weeks before and the not-quite-fully closed bottle of Coke). In the bathtub. On my midnight tours of the sewers, searching relics of times long forgot. You know. I dog-ear page corners. I fold back covers and crease the spines. When I'm done with a book, it knows it has been read.

I do it to everything I read. Somehow between reading the appetizers to getting to the desserts, I manage to turn menus into a short term exhibition at MOMA. Hand me a flyer for you show? See how quickly it disappeared into confetti? I like to think of it not as a flaw but a talent.

Newspapers are the worst. All of those loose, unconnected sheets of newsprint. In my hands it rapidly becomes a cartoon folding map, getting larger with each turn of the page, until I am obscured behind a maze of headlines and sudoku. And for some reason, the worst of the worst is the Village Voice. I don't know why. Maybe it's that the sheets are half the size regular news papers. Maybe it's because I never read the Voice in order. I always jumps from on section to the next, in some odd ritual pattern I've developed over the years. I start with Savage Love in the back, jump to movies, then Musto, then Tom Robbins, then the features, then... okay, you get the point. With me the Voice doesn't just expand, it multiplies.

But with a flailing economy, less people are buying ads. Which means less pages. And when the page count drops to a certain level, they begin to add staples in the spine, holding it all together. Which makes my every Wednesday just a little more pleasant.

I'm a half-full kind of guy.

26 Days Until Doomsday

In 26 days the Large Hardon Collider [ed.- HADRON, idiot] goes online. A 17-mile ring stretching from near Geneva and into France, the LHC will crash particles together, producing "tiny fireballs of primordial energy, recreating conditions that last prevailed when the universe was less than a trillionth of a second old." Imagine creating the universe, over and over, 30 million times a second.

Chances are discoveries will be made that will make theoretical physicists swoon and make the rest of use say, "Awesome. I'm going to go see The Dark Knight." But there as never been a collider near this scale so who knows what will happen.

(via Gizmodo)

When Walls Attack

(via Boing Boing)

Yes...

...it is hot enough for me.

Searches

I of course haven't check the stats for this blog for eons. I just did. Still an odd amount of traffic.

I am happy to say that the top key world search during 2008 has been "push button receive bacon."

Lessons of Oklahoma!

• It may seem like everything is going you way, but it's not.
• If you say you have a surrey with a fringe on top, you better damn well have a surrey with a fringe on top.
• Pornography is bad. Sometimes it could even kill you.
• Persians are sneaky, deceitful, and randy. But still okay.
• When confronting an arch-rival, why not try to convince him to commit suicide. You never know. It might work.
• Wolverine dances real pretty.
• If you are trying to make a not-so-tough choice and you inhale a special elixir, don't expect to get a real clear answer.
• In fact, it will probably put you to sleep out in a corn field. You will enter a horrible dream scape filled with prophetic images.
• Best not to trust anything branded as an elixir.
• To win the girl, sell everything you own at discount prices. Use the money to eat her pie.
• If your arch-rival tells to stick something in you eye, don't.
• To kill a farmer, you must become a farmer.
• Sure, cowmen and farmers can be friends. Especially when covering you murder.
• Oklahoma became a state due to enthusiastic spelling.

Why DOES that damn caged bird sing?

I am scared of singing.

It's true. I enjoy it. I enjoy it a lot. I do it constant around the house... when I'm alone. But in public? Big fear. I am not confident with my voice. I often suddenly find my self unable to pronounce even the simplest words. Any time I try to hum a popular song to someone it comes out as random discordant notes, like John Cage on lithium. In fact the whole Scott family is a bit infamous for not singing. Yes, I do not enjoy karaoke.

But I do like musical theater. It allows you to break so many of the conventions of "normal" theater. You can go from dead serious to wild camp in seconds. Emotions can be heightened way out of proportion. Slipping into an internal monologue is not only okay but expected. Music gets straight to musical core of things. You can gloss over subtlety. A character loves someone more that they love there own life? They can say that. They can say that over and over if it is in the chorus. And it isn't overblown or silly. It's frackin' moving.

So a while back I started to take a musical improv class with Eliza Skinner (of I Eat Pandas and many other swell things) at UCB. I was pretty sure I'd suck at it. I wasn't even sure I'd like it. Turns out I do like it. Enough that, when asked, I joined a musical improv team.

I had my first show with them last night. And it was magical. Audience get very excited by songs... especially improv ones. And as a performer, you get swept up in the song and your brain shuts down, and you just react in the moment.

I don't know how good I am. I am pretty good with structure. I commit to moments well. My actually singing goes all over the map. The notes I hear in my head rarely come out of my mouth. But that seems some what secondary. And it help that my team, Veal, rocks out on support.

Thing is, I totally burnt out on improv recently. I forgot the fun. I took a few weeks off, gave it a lot of thought, tried to put it all in perspective. Coming back, even after that short break, seems to have made me stop sweating the small stuff.

Yeah, that little bit was pretty cliché. But if I sang it....

The worth of things

I recently receive the following email:

Dear owner of twangofthevoid.blogspot.com,

I noticed that your blog "twangofthevoid.blogspot.com" hasn't been updated for a while. I'd like to buy this blog.

I assume that you are not interested in running it anymore.

I can buy this blog for $150.

What do you think?

I suppose $150 is quite a bit for something I never use any more. Except that it is a bit like selling off my memories. Sure, I could just archive it all... but it's not the same. This blog (like many many other) is a bit me yelling, "Hey world! Look at my brain!" And until I give my body up to science this will have to do.

And I might have more things to say now. So who knows? In a year it might be worth $175.

Reboot

Anyone there? I think I have thinks to say/share/exploit again.
Stay tuned...