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70 Million

70 Million by Hold Your Horses ! from L'Ogre on Vimeo.

A fantastic video from Hold your Horses.

You're Community Organizers

You're Community Organizers
Originally uploaded by lunchbreath.

Trek Yourself

Special Features: Trek Yourself

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This, this is funny. And would have been much better than that convoluted mess of a script from Orci and Kurtzman.

Hel(vetica) is (not) other fonts

I woke up this morning with this joke in my head. I do know what inspired it; I don’t know why I was inspired at that precise moment.

Anyway, I think the typography-minded existentialists of the world might get a kick out of this.

Click here if you’d like to buy a shirt to help fund my secret base in a dormant volcano.

You can't have a gut the size of mine and then go ignoring its warnings...

I interviewed a guy about 10 months back who we've since hired. Having now worked with him on a project, I realize I should have listened to that little voice. Here's the email I sent to my architect after finishing the interview:

Interview went pretty well. He’s a nice guy and I think he’d fit in with the team really well. That said, I’ve got a reservation or two.

He wrote *the single strangest* factorial I’ve ever seen anyone write. Other than a couple of small bugs with it which I helped him see and work through, he had this...well, let me see if I can reproduce it:

public int factorial(int x) {
  int[] arr = new int[x];
  for (int y = x; y > 0; --y) {
    arr[y-1] = y;
  }

  int value = 1;
  for (int x; x > 0; --x) {
    value *= arr[x - 1];
  }

  return value;
}

I think that’s it, after we fixed his bugs. It took a while for me to get him to figure out he didn’t need that array. Afterward, we were talking and he said he tends to think of solutions to problems with loops and arrays and that’s just where his mind naturally gravitates. That is one big hammer he carries around and it concerns me.

He was open and listened clearly and didn’t *ever* get defensive about what he’d written, but it still gave me pause. He knows what he knows, wants to keep learning more, and would fit in great on a team. But...

Yeah. I should have paid more heed to that little voice.

Very cool animation. Short and sweet.

Via

When he says, "Study and you could be a doctor," is that "in-doctor-ating?"

We've been rewatching The West Wing because it's summer and there's not much on. This weekend, we watched episode 2.09 - "Galileo". In this episode, the President is preparing for a national classroom to discuss science and math in honor of the landing of the Mars probe Galileo. And even though the probe fails, Bartlett decides to go on with the electronic classroom anyway because we - and our children - can learn as much out of failure as success.

Being a smart writer - with some notable faults - Aaron Sorkin tried very hard to avoid painting Republicans and the right wing as villains. He also worked very hard not to write straw men. So this episode has no crazy wingers screaming and crying that the President is trying to indoctrinate their children. No one pressuring school boards to cancel the broadcast. No one pulling their children out of school to protect them from the President's message of hard work and education.

Because Sorkin wouldn't have wanted to be accused of creating outlandish, unrealistic, crazy characters just to make the right wing look insane. You know?

Too Many Cooks, Week 5

Hey everyone, it’s Anaïs, bringing you the week 5 wrapup, and we’re getting close to the end of this cycle. How will our stories end? You’ll have to check in and see what the original authors of each story come up with.

• Finkle, Out of Sorts I explored Finkle’s growing tensions at work as well as the antagonistic relationship with his mother, who appears to him in an especially insidious form. 
• The Last Time I Saw Richard Matt learns about the ancient uses of perfumes and meets Richard’s lady Mary as he tries to figure out what has happened to his friend. 
• The Letters of Rose Constance This week’s letter from Rose has a heartfelt plea for her beloved James to return home as soon as possible. Will he? The wrapup will tell us how it ends. 
• Night Vision Gregory and Zoie finally make it to the hospital, growing closer as Zoie tries to hang on for medical attention. Will Zoie be okay? 
• Limbs Akimbo Charlie’s story is going to take a major turn for the better. His parents set up his car so he can drive it again, with hand controls. Of course it won’t solve his issues or cure his PTSD or mend his broken heart, but it will be a start.

Too Many Cooks, Week 4

This is Maria, bringing you this week’s wrapup in which we are now closer to the end than the beginning. Of the story cycle, that is.

Finkle, Out of Sorts.  I explored our hero’s nightmare, which may or may not have included an appearance by Ursula the sea witch. And then there was a dramatic reversal in the fate of the crew of the Imperial Star Navy. Or was there? It’s in Anaïs’s hands now.

The Last Time I Saw Richard.  Anaïs got Richard talking and introduced a sinister and controlling new character. Will the narrator ever get the real story from Richard? And how will they extricate themselves from Roswell? Coyotesqrl will tell the tale.

The Letters of Rose Constance.  Coyotesqrl’s letter took a fascinating turn. He explored Rose’s tragedy of sickness and loss, and fleshed out the character of Mrs. Dandry, who is more powerful and pivotal than first seemed. He close with a happy, warm memory. What will summer bring? Will James ever return? Only Oledoc knows.

Night Vision. Oledoc continued the story I started with a hilarious phone call, some Boy Scout antics and a comfortably silent ride to the hospital. He also treated us to several sweet moments between the young Zoie and Gregory. I can’t wait to see where Paulos takes the narrative next.

Limbs Akimbo. Paulos painted a scene that was simultaneously beautiful and haunting, in which Charlie, helpless and detached, observes himself as if watching a play. Will he ever be able to release his pain and guilt? Can he shake off his impotence and reclaim some power, ease the brutal images in his mind and start down the road to forgiving himself? I’m not quite sure yet, but I’ll have it sorted out by Friday.

Week 5 promises to be fascinating, gut-wrenching, paranoid, delirious, hopeful and sweet. You won’t want to miss it.

Too Many Cooks, Week 3

• Finkle, Out of Sorts.  Last week I had to get someone out of an apartment.  This week I get someone inside one.  I briefly introduced a new character to provide a counterpoint to Alan’s depression.  I look forward to seeing where Maria takes this next week.
• The Last Time I Saw Richard.  Maria develops the relationship between Richard and our narrator and sets the scene for what will no doubt prove to be an interesting conversation.  Is it just me or does anyone else think “just because you’re paranoid it doesn’t mean they’re not out to get you?”  We shall see what Anaïs thinks.
• The Letters of Rose Constance.  Anaïs - er - Snarkface continues this story of loss as we learn a little of Rose’s husband and of her sad past.  The tone fits well with what I had in mind when I began this story.  I wonder how it will end.
• Night Vision.  Coyotesqrl brings us a lovely interplay between Gregory and Zoie, and ends with an “ooof” and an “ouch”!  The story will continue next week in Oledoc’s more than capable hands.
• Limbs Akimbo.  Another great chapter: mother and son, flashbacks, tears.  How I’m expected to keep following up from Oldedoc is beyond me!  I shall do my best.

Tune in next week for more depresssion and mind-wandering, paranoia and friendship, sorrow and loss, broken bones and running, tears and blood.

Too Many Cooks, Week 2

In keeping with our rotating writers theme, this wrapup was written by Jay, who is currently following me. Poor guy has to try to make sense of the insane scribblings I leave behind on each story!

---

And now it’s gotten interesting. The rotation has started, each author tackling the story of the person who posted before them, and trying to maintain a balance between continuing the original narrative and trying to bring something of one’s own to it. The results:

• Finkle, Out Of Sorts: I (hopefully) gave us a slightly deeper look into our Mr. Finkle’s life, and added a little conflict to the story to boot. What will happen next? Paulos will have to tell us.
• The Last Time I Saw Richard: Paulos did a great job of taking my story to the next stage, getting Richard and our nameless narrator out the door and to a very interesting place to have a drink. What happens next is up to Maria.
• The Letters of Rose Constance: Maria’s follow-up deepened story and character, taking our most open-ended story and pointing it towards all sorts of interesting possibilities. Whose soldiers have come to the door? What happened to the children? Will Rose ever play the piano again? Anaïs has an interesting road ahead.
• Night Vision: Anaïs’ nipple-hardening follow-up to Maria’s first chapter was a joy to read, and left us all wanting more. And she’s right: there is no kiss better than a kiss at 19. Coyotesqrl will have an interesting time following that kiss up next Thursday.
• Limbs Akimbo: Coyotesqrl’s character work was great here, and built admirably on what Anaïs began, ending with a lovely moment between Charlie and his mother. I’m looking forward to seeing where this sparks my imagination over the coming week.

So we made it through week 2, and now week 3 lies ahead. Where will the stories go next? Is Roswell’s just another trendy New York night spot, or does it hold a deeper secret? What—if anything—lies beyond Alan Finkle’s front door? What secrets are Charlie and Rose hiding? Where will Zoie and Gregory’s running feet take them next? The answers lie in wait … but what they are, only the authors know …

Um, buy my shirt?

I rehabilitated a snowclone a couple of weeks back. What? English. Can you speak English?

Sorry. I took an extremely cliché joke template and used it in a way that is fresh, doesn't appear to have ever been used before, and I believe is pretty damn funny. I liked this joke so much, I decided I wanted a t-shirt with the joke on it so I drew a (not very good) picture to go with it and designed a shirt at Zazzle.

Then I wondered, "Why should I be the only one sporting this fine design and joke? I shouldn't right?" Y'all are definitely going to want one, or maybe a coffee mug. Yeah. Anyway, take a look.

This most likely won't be the last thing I design to sell at Zazzle; it's just so damn easy and I amuse myself, if no one else.

Too Many Cooks

I've got *another* group writing blog going. This one's quite different from Sketch War and I would really appreciate it if y'all came on by and gave it a look. We've got five people writing and five stories going concurrently. This past week we started, each of us posting the first chapter - between 500 and 1000 words or so - of a story. One story for each weekday. This coming week, each of us rotates and writes chapter two of a different story. After five weeks, each of us will have written a chapter to five different short stories.

I expect we'll see a mix of ugly, awkward pieces that don't stitch together well and stories that become much better than the originator could have hoped. Regardless, I think it'll be interesting to watch. Either you see a trainwreck or a good story coming together, one chapter at a time. Here's the wrap up from the past week:

Five days and five stories started. I’m pretty pleased it all worked out, especially since we had to make some last minute schedule changes. But it will really start to get interesting this week coming up when we all switch to another person’s story.

• “Finkle, Out of Sorts” came from me, and starts off the story of a Walter Mittyesque character. I particularly like the short scene I set in the restaurant. Oledoc will be following up this Monday.
• “The Last Time I Saw Richard” was Oledoc’s entry on Tuesday. Paulos will be taking on the next chapter about an old friend who has fallen victim to extreme paranoid delusions. Or are they delusions?
• “The Letters of Rose Constance” from Paulos looks to be an epistolary short story about a woman whose lover has left her. Maria will be following up this Wednesday and maybe we’ll see why he left.
• “Night Vision” came from Maria and was our most popular story start. I think she did a great job of showing us Zoie’s personality through her actions and behavior; after the first three paragraphs, I had a very clear picture of her. Anaïs has some interesting choices to make for her followup on Thursday.
• “Limbs Akimbo” was our final chapter on Friday. Anaïs’s story about a vet with a dark secret gives me a lot of exciting avenues to explore when I write chapter two for this coming Friday.

Will Maria’s fans come back to see how Anaïs follows up? Will Paulos delve into Richard’s psychosis or show us a massive conspiracy involving cologne? Will we hate or love where our writing partners take our stories? Yup. This is when it starts to get interesting.

500 Days of Summer review

Finally saw 500 Days of Summer today. Plenty of others have had their say - both good and bad - since the film opened but I have a few thoughts I'd like to share.

First off, let me establish up front that like any sentient straight man, I've got a crush on Zooey Deschanel. It's not even just her eyes. She's got an edge to her few ingenues possess. She'd mess you up in a bar fight if you weren't careful. The cynicism and frankness in her Summer are terrifically appealing qualities too rarely found in women. She doesn't want a relationship, doesn't believe in love, and doesn't believe in games. It's as though the tough female sidekick from a teen romcom grew up to be the star of a love story. Or, as is the case here, the traditional male and female personas were switched in a romcom.

Let me continue by saying I'm a huge JGL fan. In this role he's given room to breathe (a bit; it does tend to the emo end of the spectrum) and gives a nuanced and subtle performance. Contrasting Deschanel's manga-eyes, his are narrowed to slits throughout; nonetheless, he expresses a variety of emotions solely with his eyes. Oddly enough, I'm reminded of Clint Eastwood and the way he lets so much of his inner life show through infinitesimal variations in his squint.

In many of the two-shots, the camera subtly favors JGL over Deschanel, drawing the eye to him. (Or, I've got a secret man-crush of which I'm unaware.) This, more than the film's POV, makes the audience attempt to relate to him. Which is good, because in every other way the film's structure forces the audience to be less emotionally engaged in the story.

The too-clever third-person narration serves to separate the audience from Tom quite a bit and the time-jumping structure - with the end a given - pushes the audience even further back. I found myself watching with a far more critical and clinical eye than I normally would for a first viewing: breaking down the movie, each scene, noting editing choices, and paying close attention to the use of music (more on that in a moment.) I actually found myself bridging my fingers during most of the screening, so intellectually engaged was I. I suspect that wasn't the desire or intent of the filmmakers and isn't the reaction positive reviewers seem to have had.

I liked the movie but didn't love it. I found the willingness of the filmmakers to throw a lot of different ideas on the screen refreshing, a bit like watching a grown up version of a Savage Steve Holland movie.¹ The time jumps allow for some good jokes and juxtapositions but also hide a fairly conventional story. And while they make some poignant moments really pop - the pair of Ikea scenes and the two views of the record store scene both come to mind - they mostly served to keep me at arms' length. I saw the movie as a puzzle to be put together more than a love story; that engaged my logical faculties far more than my emotional ones.

Mostly I found joy in the smaller things like the tiny shout-out to Ferris Bueller's Day Off in the musical number and the split screen party and the performances by all parties. Geoffrey Arend - clearly the manliest, most awesome man alive² - and Matthew Gray Gubler were particularly good as Tom's best friends, providing perspectives that were more traditionally male without veering into caricature. Even Minka Kelly was good, something I've never said before. She had so few lines, it seemed their only purpose was to show how full her lips are.³

And now, the reason this movie is striking a chord with so many people: the soundtrack. Not the choice of songs, certainly. I'm frankly tired of hipster kids who are alleged to listen to the music of my youth. No, the star of this film is the score. I didn't try timing it, but it seemed the majority of music in the film was diegetic. There was an extremely spare score but - and this is the key - it was silent during all the significant moments. Instead of the constant stream of music cues we're inundated with in most features and TV shows, here nothing got between the actors and us.

That silence is powerful because it is so unusual in film yet common in life. More than anything else, the silence of the score highlights the reality of Tom's situation. Those few moments that break from reality - the dance sequence, the French film, the erasing of the world around Tom - are all scored, as are lighter moments in the film and most of the scene cuts. But when we're in the moment, almost nothing takes us out of it. This is where the film shines.

As a whole it is so-so. In each of those moments it is universal and profound.

---

1. Yes, you have. Better Off Dead, One Crazy Summer, and How I Got Into College. My love for SSH is deep and profound and while I love that he gave us Eek! The Cat after he stopped making movies, the Disney Channel portion of his career hurts me.
2. Those who know who his fianceé is already know this.
3. And to deliver a silly joke.
4. I'm a prick.

AP Really doesn't understand copyright

Where’s your fucking "software" tracking my use now, bitch? And please notice I didn’t copy a single word or image from your site. I took a fucking picture of my own computer. Suck my cock.

Oh, but just because I’m a sweetheart who respects copyright - unlike you fuckers - I included a link to the original article.

My Malaise

I haven't been writing much lately but that's of a piece with my general mien. I've been unmotivated and unproductive since December or January and going through the motions.

I wake, exhausted and drained, and drag my ass out of bed. Despite the CPAP I still feel worn down by sleep. (Or maybe it's because I usually stay up until two or three and get up at six.) I'd traditionally go to the gym when I get up at this hour but that would put me into the office around nine, keeping me there until long past my breaking point. I rush to the office so I can leave it sooner.

What's odd is that I don't hate my job. I don't like it, not one bit, but I don't hate it. This is my second go around working for this company and it's incredibly relaxed this time with precious little stress or drama. I don't interact with other business units much, have no crappy secondary responsibilities beyond backing up the build manager, and am not even mentoring anyone right now.[1] I work, take ample mental health breaks during the day for Twitter and Tumblr, go to lunch,[2] go home. Easy peasy.

Why do I hate it so?

Beyond doing work I don't enjoy - writing software is neither emotionally rewarding nor mentally stimulating - for a company I don't particularly like,[3] I realized a few weeks back I don't like anyone at work. I don't actively dislike anyone which is nice, but there is not one person on my team, in the rest of the department, or anywhere in the company I want to talk to or spend one minute more than necessary with. In 25 years in the work force, over 15 in software, I've never worked somewhere and not struck up at least one friendly relationship.

Most of those friendships are fleeting, blinking out of existence when the ties of a common job are severed. A few have lasted years. And of course there's TheWife, whom I met when we worked on opposite ends of the country for the same company.[4] But I don't have that now. I don't have a single connection, close or casual, at work and it's very draining.[5]

Then again, I don't really have any friends here in AZ that I see with any regularity. There are maybe a half-dozen people in the area I genuinely like and enjoy spending time with but very rarely see any of them. Which, beyond the obvious social isolation, means no tennis, no basketball, and no volleyball. So I haven't worked out regularly in months and haven't played any sports in something like three years. Do the math. It's not pretty. I'm out of shape and out of practice and haven't had the beneficial boost of exercise's neurochemical cocktail in months. And of course I've not had the bonding benefits of team play and competition in far longer.

Did I mention I don't like AZ at all?

Yeah there's that, too. We're stuck here for the foreseeable future in a house I can't find the energy or interest to maintain properly[6] in a place I just don't enjoy. For the first two years we had Suns season tickets, giving me a little local rooting interest, but the greed of R. Sarver and the incompetence of S. Kerr killed that for us.

Hell, I haven't eaten sushi in almost four years.[7]

On top of all this, I've almost given up on my dream job. I didn't realize it last fall, but my Pushing Daisies spec failing to crack even the semis of ABC-Disney[8] was like a J. Frazier left hook to the liver. Which body blow didn't put me on the canvas immediately but took the fight right out of me. I know the road is long and twisty and cratered but starting late as I am, I don't imagine having much success with the traditional route. Who wants a 41-year-old assistant getting them coffee and copying scripts? Also: with responsibilities and debts, how could this 41-year old even take a job like that if offered? No, the way in for me needs to be non-traditional and the Fellowship was one of my best hopes.

In December I stretched an old sketch out into a script for a short and submitted it to a few competitions. I continued writing reviews and sketches after that, but haven't taken any idea longer than a sketch beyond rough outline through the first half of 2009. I skipped ABC-Disney this year, rationalizing to myself that focusing on the YA novel I've been noodling these past few months instead of cranking out more specs might more effectively open a backdoor into a staff job. Eminently logical...if only I were actively working on the novel.

The ultimate sign that my malaise is worsening? I skipped Sketch War last week. Hell, if I don't manage to crank out a sketch tomorrow I'll have skipped two weeks running. A consistent, unbroken run that lasted for a year and a half, shot to hell because right now I'd rather stay up till all hours playing with my new drawing tablet than writing. And I love to write, especially the short stuff. Longer pieces can get wearing after the fourth or fifth draft, leaving just the joy of "having written," but sketches? That's like candy to me. And right now I can't find the drive and motivation to spend two short hours writing one.

I'm fucked.

Notes:

1. They could use a great deal of mentoring; I'm thankfully hip deep in a long and critical project at the moment. I imagine I'll take one or two under my wing in a month or two.
2. The hour a day I spend basking in the AZ sun - the only good thing about this godforsaken state - reading, and leisurely eating are my solace. I drag us out of the house for dinner far too often in a doomed attempt to recreate that state of bliss of a good lunch hour.
   
3. If you know me well, you'll know where I work, what they do, and some or all the reasons I don't like them. There's nothing immoral or unethical about the business or its management; I simply don't care for them.
4. She was just so funny and caustic and cute on the phone. I was a goner from go.
   
5. I'm pretty sure this is why I've backed off my personal blog in favor of Tumblr. I've never been one to belong to online communities despite having made my share of friends online through the years. But now, the only people I feel a connection with while I'm at work are the ones I know online and some of the small circle I know on Tumblr.
   
6. A year and a half after having a beautiful stained concrete floor installed through most of the house and I still haven't finished the baseboards. I'm lazy. I'm not that lazy.
7. Yeah yeah. RA this and Hiro that. I tried sushi in AZ a few times and every time I got sick after. Why? Well, it could be because this is a mother-fucking land-locked state! Seriously, you don't eat raw fish that traveled six hours by truck through the desert. That's right up there with Harry Anderson's rules about eating at a place called Mom's or playing cards with a guy named Pops.
8. Should it have? I certainly thought so; still do, obviously. Judge for yourselves.

July 5, 1939

"Lou? You awake?"

Lou opened his eyes and squinted against the late afternoon sun, Eleanor's silhouette ebon against the azure sky.

"Yeah. Just enjoying the sun on my face."

"We should pack up, don't you think?"

"Let's lie here a bit longer."

"Okay."

Eleanor looked at Lou's face in repose. There were more laugh lines than she remembered, but he still looked so young. It wasn't fair.

"Hey Ellie? What I said yesterday? I was wrong." He squeezed her hand; his grip felt strong as ever. "Today. Today I consider myself the luckiest man on the face of the earth."

Taking to the Streets

I posted this originally on Tumblr in response to another poster who was excited to see the young people of Iran fighting to take their country back from 30 years of oppression and fundamentalism. I see that possibility too, but I can't really help but see that with three levels of observational bias in play. Besides, being a misanthrope and cynic means I don't buy into the hype of hope. Ever.
===
I agree that we’re seeing a lot of young people expressing their anger and resentment and desire for change. These brave souls - and I think they are nothing if not brave and a also little righteous - are risking life for the pursuit of liberty and happiness. I sit here, comfortable in my western lifestyle and struggling to remember how long it’s been since I felt the hot passion for justice burn so hot I needed to do something. Needed to march, scream, protest, fight. It’s been a long time.

But we’ve got a double dose of observational bias - actually a triple dose - acting here. First off, we’ve got our own prejudices coloring what we see. Then we’ve got the media choosing what to show us, framing their narratives in ways that are compelling and speak to their audience. Finally and most significantly, we only see the young people who are expressing their anger and resentment.

We don’t see any of the young people who think things have been hunky-dory under the mullahs, who think the regime is swell. Are they a small minority? Or are they, to repurpose a hideous moniker, a silent majority? We don’t know and really can’t know. We can’t know because Iran isn’t open. Which, depending on the answer, might be very ironic. If the protesters represent a relatively small and vocal minority, it would be in Iran’s best interests to show us that. But that would require them to be an open and free society. And who’d be protesting then?

Sketch War: Pirates Wrapup

I’ve been lax the last few weeks in wrapping up the battles. But this week I was Shanghaied and conscripted to service aboard the ‘Bountiful Booty’. It’s write this wrapup or scrape the barnacles off Captain Jack’s peg leg.

• Coyote recruited the dumbest kid ever to be a pirate, of a sort…
• Lynn sang a lament to the modern day pirate…
• Peter poured a rum out for his homey and peeled back the mist separating us from the great ship in the sky.

I also recommend heading back through the archives and seeing the battles you may have missed since my last wrapup. Think about the great sketches you didn't see on the state of healthcare, liar liar, pants on fire, or my favorite: twisted children's shows.


If you thought pirates were interesting, wait until you see what the sketch warriors do with their kissing cousins: hippies.

If you think you’ve got the comedy chops to do battle with our scarred and bitter warriors, if you dare step into the hailstorm of seltzer and cream pies, if you think you’re MAN ENOUGH or WOMAN ENOUGH to make us laugh, write a sketch and contact us at submissions(nospam)@sketchwar.org.