The period of time between The Empire Strikes Back and the opening of Return of the Jedi seemed to last an eternity, even though there was probably only a year or so that we were really going crazy.

In order to satisfy our extreme hunger for anything Star Wars, Hal 9000 and I turned to the following options:

-Star Wars comic books, which told an entertaining and intricate story about the search for Han Solo.

-The Star Wars Fan Club, which sent us a newsletter named Bantha Tracks, rare iron-on patches (I believe Hal has one with the early Revenge of the Jedi title), and production photos and posters and such.

-At one point, apparently delirious and crazy from the lack of a new Star Wars movie, Hal and I decided to write and film our own Star Wars movie. Based on the above-mentioned comic books, we titled it "The Search for Han Solo" and spent several months adapting scenes, casting our friends in the key roles (I was Luke, he was Vader, MC was Chewbacca because he was the tallest one we knew, or at least the hairiest), and creating silly costumes out of bathrobes and moon boots. What can I say, we were either desperate or frustrated cinematic geniuses.

-We also had Starlog magazine, a crap-ass sci-fi rag that purported to have the entire story for Return of the Jedi laid out in full in one issue. It went like this: Luke runs into Yoda's long-lost brother or cousin or lover named "Adoy" (get it?) and then Adoy leads Luke to this place where Han Solo's carbonite chamber has been stored.

They throw Han in the Space Microwave and there's this big reunion and Leia bitch-slaps Han for just saying "I know" when she finally poured out her heart to him and said "I love you." (Ok, that didn't happen.) But then none of this other made-up shit from Starlog actually happened either.

While they're in the big carbonite warehouse they discover a bunch of other people frozen in carbonite, and Adoy reveals to them that they're all the lost Jedi. Apparently Darth didn't kill them all, he just made them into popsicles.

I can't remember the rest, but I think Luke thaws out all the Jedi and creates this big army and then kicks some Empire ass. The End.

It was complete bullshit but at the time we thought we had the inside scoop, although somewhere in the back of our minds we knew we'd been had.

I should have that issue somewhere in my parents' basement, along with the old Hammerhead action figures and Burger King collectible glasses and Boba Fett Pez dispensers.

Natalie Portman has been showing up at various Star Wars premieres sporting the Sinead O'Connor style. The reason? She shaved her head for the role of Evey in the upcoming film V for Vendetta, based on the Alan Moore comic book from the 1980s.

First she plays Luke and Leia's mother, and now she's playing an Alan Moore heroine. As far as the hearts of geekdom go, it's neck-and-neck between her and Jessica Alba, who's notching up Sin City and Fantastic Four this summer.

Any thoughts as to what's going on in Boba Fett's head right now?

A couple of quick morning links for you all...

Over at the Bicyclemark ranch, you can hear my scary-ass voice on his latest podcast. We were philosophizing over Skype the other night, and it made its way to the Communique. The audio transfer is interesting; I sound like a cross between the Devil, and Jame Gumb from The Silence of the Lambs.

And one of the best bloggers out there, Pops, is devoting the Bucket to the Star Wars geekout that is happening all over this fair earth this week. Make sure you go over and say hello.

Seriously, I don't know how Pops can put out the quality and the quantity of writing that he does every single day. Every post is a laff riot, I gare-un-tee!

Live Long and Prosp---oh wait, dammit. Wrong shit.

This morning I attended a meeting to help plan the First-Day-of-School activities for the returning teachers this coming August. This is where we all gather at the high school and eat crappy doughnuts and listen to our Superintendent discuss all the mighty challenges we've faced and will continue to face this coming year.

It's all pretty boring and most everyone wishes they were either working in their classrooms or simply back home in bed.

This year they asked all of the district's theatre people to come in and help plan the program, probably because they realized that the usual "skits" and presentations they did in year's past had absolutely no theatricality to them whatsoever. In other words they sucked huge donkey balls.

Well of course most of the actual theatre people didn't show up, because let's be honest, there is absolutely no way you can make one of these administrative presentations be in any way shape or form, entertaining. And why would you want to attach your name to something like that after your rousing success with Seussical the Musical?

And since I will be sipping pints in Ireland during that pre-first day week, I was told I didn't have to be a part of it, but could I help with the concepts and planning? Sure.

The theme this year is Everyday Heroes, and after spending ten minutes discussing whether "heroes" had a second "e" or not, we were told that a lovely movie focusing on all the wonderful things the district has done for the less fortunate members of our community would be shown, with inspirational music and everything. Kind of like Extreme Makeover: School District Edition.

Like there was this one family whose house burned down, so then one of the schools had this big clothing and toy drive and got all this great stuff for the poor family who had lost everything. Until they burned their house down again. I don't know if they got as much good stuff the second time around. Maybe they just got some helpful tips on, you know, how to not burn your fucking house down over and over again.

Anyway, as you can see, this presentation is already going to be pretty groan-worthy. Our job was to come up with a funny skit or something to lighten things up. And since the theme had "heroes" (with an "e") in the title, why don't we do something funny with super-heroes? (Let me point out that none of these ideas were mine. My ideas usually don't make a lot of sense to the lovely people I work with, and most likely would have offended Republicans, Christians, Democrats, Jews and Muslims, gays, lesbians, environmentalists, anti-environmentalists, and parents.)

We tossed around some ideas, like the Super-Superintendent of Personnel, who can fire someone faster than a speeding bullet, or Crazy Bitch Receptionist Woman, but the ideas didn't go very far.

Then one of the principals remembered some Power Point presentation where administrators' faces were superimposed onto characters from the Star Wars trilogy (and you thought this post wasn't going to be about Star Wars, didn't you?)

So now the funny skit involves characters called Joel-Joel Binks and Queen Ami-Darla and cheap lightsabers will be waved around and somehow I got stuck narrating this damn thing, because I seemed to know the most about Star Wars. Well, Beth from the junior high knew just as much as me, to her credit, but I had the deeper voice.

But this is one of those things you get stuck doing and you nod your head and smile and say "Sounds great!" when inside you're crying little tears of sadness as you watch a bunch of clueless people deface something cherished from your childhood.

May the Force of Crappitude Be With Me.

P.S. If you read this blog and work for the above-mentioned district, just remember: you know nothing about this fall's convocation. And it's going to be wonderful. That's all you know.

I'm letting the Fanboys take over the blog this week, so expect a lot of geek-talk and inside references about Star Wars. The great monster from my childhood is returning for one final installment, and it seems to be rekindling my love for Lucas and lightsabers.

This was submitted by my buddy Hal, in response to my last post. Hal and I (and MC who often appears in the comments) spent our entire childhoods obsessing over anything Star Wars, and we knew exactly what Kevin Smith meant when he said that Star Wars was our Vietnam. (A glib statement, yes, but we didn't have much else going on in the late-70s and early 80s. Do you think the Carter administration was going to be the most memorable event from our early childhood? Hell no! It was Vader making all those guys choke to death just by flicking out two robotic fingers.)

Anyway, here's the Hal 9000's Best/Worst list for the Star Wars films.


Best Moment in the original Star Wars:

(Tie) 1. The uncomfortable dinner conversation over blue milk and old
ghosts. I agree that Lucas made a bunch of this shit up on the fly, but
that conversation is proof that not everything was made up on the fly.

2. The opening crawl. From the beginning of the film, the written setup,
and the spacecraft lumbering overhead, you knew there was something really
cool about to take place.

Worst moment in Star Wars:

I can't think of one, so Tosche Station will have to do.

Best Moment in The Empire Strikes Back:

(Tie) As you know, I'm big on the moment of revelation, so it's little
wonder the (paternal) climax of the film is my favorite moment. And it
gives the film real legitimacy, in that, to date, it is the only film in the
series where the climactic moment is a plot point/point of character
development instead of a special effect.

Also, I love the moment when the soldiers in the trench whip out the
binoculars, see the AT-ATs and realize just how screwed they are.


Worst Moment, ESB:

Again, hard to pick one, but I'm going to go with the space slug. Nothing
can make me suspend disbelief to that degree.



Best Moment in Jedi:

The fleet drops out of hyperspace, both because of Lando's moment of
revelation regarding the Death Star's defensive shields and because the
battle was seriously joined. Latter day digital space battles are cool, but
somewhere down deep, I long for miniatures, models and old school special
effects.

Worst Moment in Jedi:

The battle above Endor kicked ass, but the battle on the surface sucked
bantha dick. I agree, Ewoks in and of themselves are lame, but I'm going to
have to go with the surface battle on this one. Chaotic and unintelligible,
and it had the added lameness of the tired and overused "close-to-nature
beats science and technology" theme that's been used in everything from
Rocky IV to the Vietnam War. And it was the worst forest battle put to
film since "Battle for the Planet of the Apes."


Best moment in Phantom Menace:

There was one? I suppose Darth Maul vs. the Jedi would count, but that's
it.

Worst moment, TPM:

Jar Jar Binks, podracing, Warwick Davis...where to start? I'll just leave
it at the fact that it was one huge turd, beginning to end.

Seriously, I'd rather have kidney stone surgury than watch this film again.
At least there, I got fentanyl.

(And as an aside, this started the end of midnight shows for me. I swore
Return of the King was it, but I feel the force, and now I'm swearing -
absolutely for the last time - Sith is my absolute last midnight show. I've
been burned once too often, and I'd rather have the sleep.)

Best moment in Attack of the Clones:

One of so very few in the prequels, I love the moment when the battle droids
pour into the arena to face a charging line of Jedi Knights with lightsabers
drawn. Its a scene I had imagined in my own mind, and hoped for, for years.

Worst moment:

"...and sand...it gets everywhere..."

George, you're a rich old ba$tard: hire a script doctor, or even better, a
co-writer. Leigh Brackett could still write better than you, and she's been
dead 20 plus years.


And your review didn't give props to Clone Wars, which is better than the
first two prequels combined:

Best moment, Clone wars:

Clone soldiers take down that gun on Muunilist. Finally, 3 minutes where
stormtroopers act like a real fucking army unit.

Worst moment, Clone Wars:

Hard to pick one, but I'll go with C-3PO's comic relief on Illum. I've
heard there's little in the way of comic relief in Sith, and I hope it stays
that way.

I also hope I get the satisfaction of seeing Jar Jar Binks get his
intestines spilled out, Taun Taun-style. Only time will tell.

And George doesn't get any more money out of me until I get the first three
in their original formats on DVD. You can enhance the color and the sound
all you want, George, but no more money from me until Obi-Wan no longer
lives at Xanadu, Greedo doesn't shoot first, you leave the Jabba scene on
the cutting room floor, reinsert the wolfman, erase the dewbacks, leave the
wampa vague as hell, reinsert Clive Revill, erase that damn scream, return
it to "Bring my ship" instead of "Alert my Star Destroyer to prepare for my
arrival", get rid of the goddamn "musical" number in Jabba's palace, and put
Sebastian Shaw back in the ending.

Best Moment in Star Wars: A New Hope:

Han kills Greedo, version 1.0

Worst Moment in Star Wars: A New Hope:

"But I was going into Tosche Station to pick up some power converters!" (Worst line reading ever, so bad it's now a classic.)

Best Moment in The Empire Strikes Back:

The whole damn thing, really. The tension, a kick-ass performance by Harrison Ford as Han, Yoda, the light-saber battle with Darth, "I am your father," Boba Fett, Vader taking out Admiral Ozzel, but for me it was always watching the Millenium Falcon race through the asteroid belt, pursued by Tie Fighters and Darth Vader (and eventually Boba Fett.)

Worst Moment in the Empire Strikes Back:

Hard to find one, but the Hot Sister-on-Brother Action where Leia lays a big one on Luke is pretty creepy. It's also proof that Lucas had no idea he was going to make Luke and Leia related to each other until he started working on Jedi.

Best Moment in Return of the Jedi:

The speeder bike chase. As an 11-year old kid watching that, it was the most exhilarating thing I had ever seen on film. I'll never look at a forest the same way again.

Worst Moment in Return of the Jedi:

Obvious, isn't it: the Ewoks. Lucas should have stuck to the original plan of having them be Wookies, which would have saved Jedi from it's 3rd-place status on many fans' ranking of the Original Trilogy. It looks like Revenge of the Sith will finally let us see the fuzzballs in some serious action.

Best moment in The Phantom Menace:

The lightsaber duel with Darth Maul, Obi-Wan, and Qui-Gon Jinn. The podrace was pretty cool, too, but it got a little cartoony at times. Lucas always does well when he has Things Go Fast in his films.

Worst moment in The Phantom Menace:

Jar Jar? Maybe. The piss-poor acting style of Jake Lloyd? Close. I think the worst part of Menace is the fact that it's just boring. I can still remember watching it at the premiere midnight show and slowly realizing that it just wasn't a very good movie. I've never been able to do a Midnight Premiere since then.

Best moment in Attack of the Clones:

Tie: Yoda's lightsaber battle with Count Dooku, and Jango Fett. I wanted so much more of Temura Morrison's cool, deadly smirk, and less of that whiny bitch Anakin. (Portman looks pretty good in this one, though.)

Worst moment in Attack of the Clones:

This may be single-handedly the lowest-point of all of the Star Wars films: the weird alien dude who looks like his head has been flattened by a waffle iron in an old Tom and Jerry cartoon. And the beep-bop-blorp-buzzzzzzz Techno Union robot dude, proof that George was letting his kids make up the aliens on this one.


*Note: I'm ignoring the special editions of the Original Trilogy, simply due to the fact that the "enhancements" usually became the Worst Moments.

I am only one of three men that work at one of my schools (I'm the gifted resource teacher for two buildings), and so the men's room in the teacher's lounge is more or less mine.

One of the toilets in the women's restroom isn't working right now, so the women (K being one of them, damn her!) have decided to start using the men's room stall as well. Which usually means the ladies yell out "Brian, we're using the men's room so stay out!" a lot.

Well, I was going to brush my teeth after lunch when I noticed someone was in the men's room stall. And who walks out, but a woman I'll call Large Marge. Instead of getting all embarrassed and freaky, she just casually walks out and yells at K and the other women for not watching the door close enough.

I tried arguing my case and tried to ban the women from using the room clearly labeled "GENTLEMEN", but I'm clearly outnumbered.

Bleah....

Stayed up too late drinking wine and talking on Skype, and woke up late for work. Passed a fella named Big R on the way to work, saw the ex-gal pal at Starbucks, but only made it 5 minutes late. Good thing I shaved with a new razor yesterday.

Wanted to head to Springfield today for what they call a "blizzard day", where educators make their case to the state legislators on things like retirement funding, but I got stuck with yet another meeting today, so no Lincoln House of Wax for me today.

I know there was something significant that I wanted to write about today, but I can't remember it for the life of me. So you get this litany of useless information instead.

Last night I dreamt I was sitting in the back seat of my parents' car, and we were driving home after a night out in the city. Even though we have never lived in Chicago, our home was an apartment on the north side. Mom and Dad (it was one of those dreams where my parents aren't divorced) went up to the apartment, while I remained in the basement parking garage.

A group of young people walked by me, giving me threatening looks. I ignored them, but as I turned away I suddenly felt a sharp pinch at my side. By the time I turned around they were gone, and I discovered that I had been stabbed repeatedly in the abdomen.

I collapsed on the dirty floor of the garage, weakly calling for help, hoping that someone would appear. I could feel the life slowly fading from me as the blood collected in pools around my limp body. I called out K's name, but there was no answer.

Then I woke up.

As I was leaving the parking lot of my local Dominick's yesterday, I noticed a mother duck with several ducklings following behind. I'm not sure where they came from, but they were wandering out from a construction zone and into a busy street. The mother duck kept trying to cross the highway, but cars kept scaring it back to the curb.

I pulled over, hoping the duck would return to the tall grasses of the construction site, but the ducklings couldn't make it up the high curb. So the big duck tried to cross the street again.

Several cars were coming, so I got out of my car and stopped traffic as this little duck family waddled across the street to safety. Well, a sort of safety. They were now in a little grassy area that separated the road from the grocery store parking lot, and the ducklings once again couldn't make it up the curb.

So now I'm following these ducks along the curb, herding them towards a safer spot, and people are stopping their cars to watch. One woman is calling someone for advice; two teenage boys offer me a bottle of water to use, for whatever reason. Some strange girl in a black pickup truck keeps yelling out, "Leave them alone! They're not yours to take!" She apparently was under the impression I was trying to capture these ducks for my own private duck family or something.

The ducks reached the edge of the grassy "safety zone" and once again decided to cross the road, and once again faced the problem of the high curb. They waddled along the curb for a while until they eventually made it over the curb and into safety.

They disappeared into the high grass and I didn't see them again.

Yeah, I know, it's a really sappy story, but the last thing I wanted to see happen was a bunch of ducklings get run over on the road. I wouldn't sleep for a week if I saw that.

Today marks the 60th Anniversary of the German surrender to Allied forces, marking the end of war in Europe.



ACT OF MILITARY SURRENDER

1. We the undersigned, acting by authority of the German High Command, hereby surrender unconditionally to the Supreme Commander, Allied Expeditionary Force and simultaneously to the Supreme High Command of the Red Army all forces on land, at sea, and in the air who are at this date under German control.

2. The German High Command will at once issue order to all German military, naval and air authorities and to all forces under German control to cease active operations at 2301 hours Central European time on 8th May 1945, to remain in all positions occupied at that time and to disarm completely, handing over their weapons and equipment to the local allied commanders or officers designated by Representatives of the Allied Supreme Commands. No ship, vessel, or aircraft is to be scuttled, or any damage done to their hull, machinery or equipment, and also to machines of all kinds, armament, apparatus, and all the technical means of prosecution of war in general.

3. The German High Command will at once issue to the appropriate commanders, and ensure the carrying out of any further orders issued by the Supreme Commander, Allied Expeditionary Force and by the Supreme Command of the Red Army.

4. This act of military surrender is without prejudice to, and will be superseded by any general instrument of surrender imposed by, or on behalf of the United Nations and applicable to GERMANY and the German armed forces as a whole.

5. In the event of the German High Command or any of the forces under their control failing to act in accordance with this Act of Surrender, the Supreme Commander, Allied Expeditionary Force and the Supreme High Command of the Red Army will take such punitive or other action as they deem appropriate.

6. This Act is drawn up in the English, Russian and German languages. The English and Russian are the only authentic texts.

Signed at Berlin on the 8 day of May, 1945

Von Friedeburg Keitel Stumpff


On behalf of the German High Command IN THE PRESENCE OF:

A.W.Tedder On behalf of the Supreme Commander, Allied Expeditionary Force

Georgi Zhukov On behalf of the Supreme High Command of the Red Army

At the signing also were present as witnesses:

F. de Lattre-Tassigny General Commanding in Chief First French Army

Carl Spaatz General, Commanding United States Strategic Air Force

General Eisenhower's Proclamation on Germany's Defeat


The BBC's World War II site

Wikipedia's World War II entry

My Photos from the National World War II Memorial in Washington, D.C.

Northwestern's Gallery of World War II Posters

Oswego, Illinois, the second town in my Town Trifecta (the first being Naperville), had a surprise visitor Friday morning.

Emeril. And Good Morning America.

Emeril showed up to cook breakfast in bed for an Oswegoan named Dan Lyznicki. He was nominated for a Breakfast in Bed contest as part of a Mother's Day promotion.

Yes, he's a guy, and not technically a Mother, but he lost his wife a while back to a rare genetic heart defect, and has since raised his son and four daughters all by himself.

It's a good story, and I won't even think of making fun of it. Yes, the potential is there, with goofy Emeril and ABC's trend of heart-tugging reality drama, but when you see this stuff a little more up-close, it isn't as dumb as you'd think. I was having a beer last night with Dan's niece and she told us all about the family and the story behind the contest and in the end it was a wonderful thing that ABC and McDonald's and Emeril did.

'Nuff Said. Read the rest of the story here.

Now, a bit more about Oswego.

It's located just west of Naperville, and it rests along the Fox River, which runs northward through towns like Aurora and St. Charles.

It occupies the north-east corner of Kendall County, which was just named the second-fastest growing county in the United States. Oswego's current population sits at 18,769, up almost 5,500 people from the 2000 census.

I currently teach in this town and lived in it for a while, and hope to do so again. It has great bike trails and all of my friends live here. Plus it's a short commute to work.

When I started teaching seven years ago we had four elementary schools. This fall we will have eleven. We will add an additional 1,600 students this fall as well.

All this growth is good and bad, of course. For those that want Oswego to retain its small-town charms, they bristle and fight against the rapid growth and the higher taxes and the influx of chain stores and strip malls.


Some of the expansion is a good thing, though. Roads are refurbished, new housing opportunities are available, and beautiful new parks and recreation areas are now dotting Oswego's neighborhoods.

My school district can hardly keep up, opening school after school and (unfortunately for those low-tax proponents) issuing referendum after referendum to keep pace with the demand for new schools and more teachers.

This rapid growth at work has meant lots of stress and excitement all at once. We teachers and administrators are offered the chance to move quickly through the ranks and are offered more opportunities to take different career choices. A teacher in Oswego can easily become a team leader in a few years, and even become a principal in under ten. I taught in a classroom for six years, am now a Gifted resource teacher, and have opportunities to become much more in just a few years.

It's an interesting place to be right now, watching the change come fast and furious. When the dust settles, years from now, will people look back and say that the leaders of Oswego took all the right steps, made all the correct decisions?

Only time will tell.

More pictures at my Buzznet site and my Flickr account.

Dammit! It appears that the iTunes Pepsi promotion is no longer running. One of my favorite ways to occupy my time at work is now finished.

Just got back from celebrating Cinco de Mayo, suburban-style. That's where you go to a Mexican restaurant (chain of course) near a mall and order overpriced margaritas and Coronas. T called me on the way home from work and invited me out, and so I joined her, Prince Fan, the Padawan Learner, and Hot Maria (or was it Sexy Sanchez?) at the restaurant and I ate spinach quesadillas and watched them all get a little tipsy. Sometimes it's nice to work in a profession dominated by gorgeous young women.

None of 'em have blogs so I can't link any of them. T still refuses to read mine. She says her life is so boring, why should she read about anyone else's boring life? (I can't remember if I mentioned that already.)

I'm in the mood to keep going, to really celebrate the Mexican May Five with lots more cerveza and gringas, but I do have to work tomorrow, and I already trimmed this week up a bit on Monday.

I have to remember to pay T twenty bucks tomorrow, since I didn't have any cashola on me tonight.

One final note: Hot Maria/Sexy Sanchez/Anita Sanchez isn't really Hispanic (and sorry, I don't have a picture of her, but she is pretty darn cute.) She's Italian and Polish, so I of course suggested her name should be The Wopolack, but I'm a lover of nations, not a hater. So Hot Maria it is.

Oh, I've also found my favorite form of gambling: buying Diet Pepsis from the vending machine at my school, hoping that it's another free song on iTunes.

And I won again! What shall it be this time? Starland Vocal Band? The Shaggs? Wesley Willis?

Wow, so this is what it feels like to have a good night's sleep. I almost forgot what feeling normal was like.

Had to do some observations over at one of the junior highs, so I had a chance to catch up with some of my former students. The hardest part of being a classroom teacher was sending the kids off to junior high at the end of the year, knowing that I probably won't ever see most of them again.

Fortunately I get to keep up with many that join the theatre program, and from time to time I run into kids here and there. But that closeness you have with a classroom, a group of 25-30 kids for nine months, it's always hard to end that in June.

Most of the blogs on my bloglines won't come up on my computer, so those bastards at tech support may be onto me. I'd better cut down on my blog-reading during my breaks.

Time to go teach anyway. More later, folks.

If you were a regular reader of this blog during the winter months, you will remember quite a few posts about my state of mind and my place in the universe. As I turned 33 I finally started feeling like an adult and decided that it was time to truly take stock of my life and pull myself out of the deep rut I had fallen into.

And so, through a variety of methods, things have gone very well. Figured some things out about all the anger and depression and uncertainty that had plagued me for so long. Spent many hours talking about old friends and old girlfriends and authority figures and why did I let things get to me so much?

A series of disappointments and depressing news, like disease and theatre trouble and job fatigue have hit me lately, but I find that you just adapt to the bad things and try to stay positive.

For the most part, I've noticed that I can look around at my life and say that I'm happy. I've found contentment and joy in the smallest of things, like long stretches of time spent reading good books, spending evenings with wonderful people over beer and trivia, and making connections with faraway people through this things called the blogosphere.

Using a new microphone and a program called Skype I can now talk to Bicyclemark for free any time I want. It was he who used the phrase "making connections" and it stuck in my head. Blogging isn't just about "therapy" or an easy excuse to write about movies I saw anymore, it's also about reaching through the limits of geography and distance to learn more about the world and to "meet" the people out there.

So yeah, I'm happy, but there's this weird indifference that has come along with it. I don't get so heated and fired up about things as much, and I certainly don't worry worry worry and think think think all the time, but there's a price to pay.

Instead of being so overly-passionate about everything, I find myself strangely indifferent to much of it. You know the scene in Office Space where Peter's talking to Jennifer Aniston about his job:

Peter Gibbons:I uh, I don't like my job, and, uh, I don't think I'm gonna go anymore.
Joanna: You're just not gonna go?
Peter Gibbons: Yeah.
Joanna: Won't you get fired?
Peter Gibbons: I don't know, but I really don't like it, and, uh, I'm not gonna go.
Joanna: So you're gonna quit?
Peter Gibbons: Nuh-uh. Not really. Uh... I'm just gonna stop going.
Joanna: When did you decide all that?
Peter Gibbons: About an hour ago.

Right now I'm sitting at home in a bathrobe because I didn't sleep much last night and when I woke up I couldn't find a good enough reason to go to work. So I'm reading books and writing on this blog and it's great to have a three-day weekend, but I didn't really need to do it. I just didn't feel like going.

I think I now understand what Camus meant when he said that Sisyphus is happy while he walks back down the hill, gearing up for another date with the rock.

Maybe that's a good thing, maybe not. I just don't worry about it.

Last night the work friends and I gorged ourselves on buffalo wings and cheap Heinekins, all in celebration of the fact that a guy named Jason is standing strong.

Jason was hired to replace me after my promotion, and after enduring the usual hazing and joshing, settled into his job comfortably, until his leukemia flared up again.

Things have been up and down, but he seems to be doing great, and plans on returning to work this fall after some important summer surgery. I've only gotten to know him a little bit, but he's a great guy and we have a lot in common, and it's incredibly heartening to see him doing so well. So that's a good thing that has happened recently.

Whipped out the camera and started taking pics, which of course elicited the response, "Watch out, he'll put 'em on the blog!" I'm sure many of you photobloggers have heard this as well. It's always so tricky to decide what you should or shouldn't post online. Most of my friends read the blog, and no one seems to have a problem with their picture being sent 'round the world (well, T gripes occasionally) so I throw 'em up from time to time.

It's all part of the story, I suppose. We read about each others' lives and get a little glimpse into what people do for fun far away and who they hang out with on a Saturday night, and it's all so different and yet it's exactly the same. Which is wonderful.

Of all the phrases associated with having a bowel movement, I think "I gotta go see a man about a horse" is my favorite.

Haven't posted in a couple of days due to developments at work. Not going to talk about it here, but it seems I'm being asked to lead a revolution. Nuff said for now.

As some of you may know, my niece is obsessed with The Nightmare Before Christmas. And as some of you may also know, my sister is pregnant again with her third child. Two girls isn't good enough for my Sicilian brother-in-law; he must have a MAN in the family to carry on the name! (Or it could be they just want something new to cuddle.)

Anyway, people keep asking my niece what she wants the new baby's name to be, and every single time, Cameron answers:

"Zero."

"Excuse me?"

"Zero. From Nightmare Before Christmas. Jack the Skeleton-man's dog."

My sister is going to forever regret the day I brought that movie into her home.

One of my favorite writers, Sarah Vowell, has an interview with Christopher Walla, who plays in one of my favorite bands, Death Cab for Cutie, at Salon.com, one of my favorite news sites.

Get the free day pass and read it, and if you don't read Sarah Vowell or listen to Death Cab, start that, as well. Good stuff, good stuff...

Your Linguistic Profile:

75% General American English

20% Upper Midwestern

5% Midwestern

0% Dixie

0% Yankee

What Kind of American English Do You Speak?

I've lived in Illinois practically all my life, and I only get 5% Midwestern? I wonder why that's the case. Do people who only speak a true regional Midwestern speech avoid the amount of TV, movies, music, and books that I absorb? John Steinbeck observed in Travels with Charley that the advent of television was runining regional American accents. At the same time, Bill Bryson pointed out rather correctly (in The Mother Tongue) that Americans, for all their space and ability to form regional accents, have a more fluid and constant accent and dialect than all of Great Britain, which is filled with a variety of accents, dialects, and speech patterns that is surprising considering their size.

I call it pop, frosting, and a grocery bag. I stand in line and I have never seen a roundabout or a rotary west of Pennsylvania.

Of course, I don't say worsh, or crick, or how's by you, darlin'? I'm not sure if that's considered Midwestern, but it's the closest I can come to this late at night.

Just got this off of Slashdot:

Lucas Confirms Star Wars spin-off TV series

Mictian writes "In a rare public appearance at the Star Wars Celebration III (his previous fan event appearance was in 1987), George Lucas confirmed that he's working on two TV series. One will be a full 3D animation series (with 30-minute episodes) of the recent Cartoon Network Clone Wars shorts, and the other a live-action series, that will be set in the time between Episodes III and IV, but won't feature the main characters. Production is expected to begin in about a year."


All the fanboys will bitch about this. All the fanboys will watch this. Will you?

Personally, I'm hoping for the sequel to "Ewoks." Or maybe "Life Day: The Revenge!"

Pixies, Weezer, Panic Set for Lollapalooza

By Ray Waddell (Reuters)

NASHVILLE (Billboard) - The Pixies, Weezer, Widespread Panic, the Killers, the Arcade Fire, Liz Phair), the Black Keys and Death Cab For Cutie are among the acts that will play the reconfigured Lollapalooza festival, which will take place July 23-24 in Chicago's Grant Park.
Read the full article here.

In addition to the above bands, a reunited Dinosaur Jr. and many other bands from today and the now-retro-hip late-80s alt. music scene are coming to town for the first stand-alone Lollapalooza show, which apparently is going for more of a Coachella vibe than the traveling freak and music show of the early 90s.

It should be a great show. I saw Radiohead play Grant Park a few years ago and it was one of the best concert experiences of my life. As far as all-day festivals go, you can't get much better than having the skyline of Chicago to your left and the beautiful blue of Lake Michigan on your right.

But somehow I doubt I'll catch it. I'm just not one for all-day festivals or stadium shows. When I see a band, I much prefer to see them in a small club like the Abbey or the Metro. There are many that live for the grand drunken mess that is a Buffett show or look forward to bringing out their hippie dresses for Dave, Phish (well not anymore) or the Other Ones.

I only attended one all-day music festival, and that was the Guinness Fleadh festival from about 5-6 years ago. I suffered through 90 degrees, incredible humidity, and ankle-deep mud in order to see Elvis Costello, Van Morrison, Shane MacGowan, Beth Orton, John Prine, Steve Earle and the Del McCoury Band, and Lucinda Williams. It was an amazing line-up and well-worth all the pain and misery, but it's just not an experience I want to repeat. I'm just not enough of a hippie to want to sit in my own filth for 10 hours. I like my music in a small club in the big city.

This is just another way of me saying that I hate hippies and that I hate listening to music outdoors. Not really. I love hippies, I do. I'm one myself.

Peace.

Dream one:

I was a guest in a strange house full of strange people. As I walked through the rooms of the house and talked to the people I had visions or premonitions of some nameless dread or danger that was headed our way.

The lady of the house escorted me to a room and asked if I wanted to go down into the basement to meet (I can't remember the name.) I peered down the steps into the basement and saw flickering lights and felt that the last thing I should do was to go into that basement.

Later I found a separate entrance to the basement, which had grainy black-and-white images projected on its walls and where children sat in a circle playing.

The visions continued, and I tried to warn people, but it had no effect. Eventually a huge wave came crashing over the house, submerging us all beneath the water. Somehow the air inside the house remained, and so we were able to continue to survive in the house for a few more hours, until our oxygen ran out.

No one tried to escape, no one protested. It was as if we were all consigned to this fate.

There was a blue tint to everything in the house now, and we could tell it was getting dark outside in the world above the water. Suddenly a large golden retriever pawed his way in through the front door and the house was engulfed in water, and the dream ended.

Dream Two:

A quiet man's home in the woods is also submerged beneath water. He continues to visit the rooms of his house with the aid of an air tank and illumination. In the only scene that I can remember, he enters his den, tears off the pages of a page-a-day calendar to make them current, and shares his oxygen tank with his girlfriend. She leads them into his bedroom and they make love in the dark watery remains of his home.

Dream Three:

James Caan is sitting peacefully in a swamp, letting the alligators brush past him. He turns on a flashlight underwater, which startles a gator. He suddenly has one of his fingers bitten off, then a few toes, until finally a huge bite is taken out of him. As he slowly bleeds to death, he floats in the water, with a can of Pabst Blue Ribbon in his hand, and he thinks about all the simple things in life that gave him pleasure.

Late Friday night, with a nightcap and accompanying music:

The Uncle Devil Show.

Anyone heard of this album? I downloaded it from iTunes the other day. WXRT has been playing "She Cuts Her Own Fringe" a lot lately. It features Justin Currie from Del Amitri, a great band (at least before they got too poppy.) It's silly and stupid sometimes, but it reminds me a lot of the Hollies, and it's great to hear Currie signing something good again. "Fringe" is hands-down one of the best pop songs I've heard all year long.

Spent the evening watching A-Rog work the crowd at The Foundry (that big headless blue blur in the picture is him.) T and Prince Fan and Mr. and Mrs. Duder were there, along with the Padawan Learner, along with respective husbands and boyfriends and various lovely brunettes.

How can you be 26 and not know what a blowjob is? I actually met someone tonight that had to have that explained to her.

Well, I don't think the most beautiful women in the world are going to storm my gates anytime soon, so it's off to bed.

Warning! Pseudo-Hippie Tree-Hugger-type post to follow

It's Earth Day today, and in northern Illinois it's a cool, rainy overcast day, but the trees are in bloom and the grass is that deep, rich green that reminds me of you-know-where. It's actually a lovely day out, because you can feel things growing and changing and the bare brownness of everything is disappearing fast.

I was excited about the New Environmentalism that started appearing about 15 years ago (on the 20th anniversary of Earth Day), but it saddens me to no end how people have basically given up on it. For a while we had corporate responsibility (McDonalds led the charge by getting rid of all their styrofoam and switched to recycled paper), recycling bins started appearing on the curbs of American towns, and green architecture became more common in new construction projects.

A lot of that is still around, and the earth is marginally better for it. But what's missing is the Big Stuff, the mass commitment to alternative sources of energy, serious legislation regarding clean water and clean air, and of course there's the SUV thing. Once those became popular I think people made a nice little deal with the devil and conveniently pushed aside their Save the Earth! philosophies in order to have more room to pack your groceries and that nice "safe" feeling that people get when they drive a behemoth.

It just seems that Environmentalism is dead, at least in America. We walked away from the Kyoto Treaty, we mainline oil and gas into our veins, and we're getting ready to drill in ANWAR, and no one seems to really care. "Environmentalism" has become one of those silly things that "liberals" care about, and it seems to have become a fringe issue now that terrorism and Iraq and the economy and Terry Schiavo seem to be the only things politicians and the media care about any more.

Maybe I'm being pessimistic, and I hope I am. But no one seems to care for the woods any more. They all have minds of metal and wheels, to quote Treebeard.

The Cubs beat the Cardinals last night, but it was a pyrrhic victory:



Nomah is out with a groin strain. He was only hitting .163, but this season is not starting out well.

In other news apparently Pope Ratzo was a Nazi Youth or something close to that when he was a boy growing up in Hitler-era Germany. Good job Catholic Church; way to pick 'em.

Actually, read the article. The Uber-Pope says he was drafted against his will and in fact he deserted his position in the military two years later. Or so he says.

He still looks like the Emperor.

A Public Service Announcement, brought to you by me and Tiff from Wayne the Snake:

Bfauth30: I think I have carpal tunnel syndrome
BiffanyBop: F'real?
BiffanyBop: Damn!
Bfauth30: yeah
Bfauth30: time to go to the doc
BiffanyBop: When'd you decide that?
Bfauth30: recently
BiffanyBop: Hm.

Bfauth30: my numbness in my hand is getting painful
BiffanyBop: Eek.
BiffanyBop: Man, I hope I don't et that someday.
BiffanyBop: But I probably will
Bfauth30: it seems to happen to many bloggers
BiffanyBop: Hm.
BiffanyBop: Wow.
BiffanyBop: I literally never thought about the dangers of blogging!
BiffanyBop: I think I might have to cut down on the computer. I'm serious.
Bfauth30: you're on a lot
BiffanyBop: I know.
BiffanyBop: Damn!
BiffanyBop: Oh my GOD!
BiffanyBop: AHHH!
BiffanyBop: Or I'll buy some major wrist support shit
Bfauth30: not very attractive
BiffanyBop: I don't care
Bfauth30: maybe I can get a robotic hand
Bfauth30: like Luke Skywalker
BiffanyBop: Ooh!
BiffanyBop: (Not very attractive)
Bfauth30: better if it was Han Solo
Bfauth30: Hand Solo, maybe
Bfauth30: insert masturbation joke here
BiffanyBop: Hahaha

I'll put this picture up here for Kevin the Super Fan and for Brentano, whoever you may be (the humor is soooo hard to place.) The new Pope, who I heard referred to as the "Rebound Pope" today by the Padawan Learner (Prince Fan's student teacher), is German, so we should probably call him the Uber-Pope or the ZooPopa.

Prince Fan has a blog now but she's not telling where it is. She's a Lurker anyway, one of my many friends/fans/critics who read the blog and never comment. She says it's because she has stage fright, and I almost lost her as a reader after my blastings on religion (we differ there, kiddo), but I think she needs to be outed and start commenting. T started reading too, finally, and if she doesn't start commenting I may have to put up those drunk pictures I have of her.

Damn, there's too many nicknames out there. I try and be nice and keep people anonymous but there's only so many silly names I can come up with. I know Naperville's Only Child (another Lurker) wants a better name, but I haven't come up with one yet. And the Governor just needs to start commenting properly.

I get well over a hundred hits a day on here (not much, I know) yet only the same dozen or so people comment. I'm quite happy with these numbers, but it would be nice to hear from the quieter folk from time to time. I don't ask for money, just a hello or something.

My interpoop wasn't working the past few days, so it's time to end this post and go find some porn.

Happy 420, if you're into that type of thing.

I gotta say, it does look kind of like the Virgin Mary. You can even see her hands folded in prayer.

For those that are unsure of what they're looking at, it's a salt stain from underneath the Kennedy Expressway in Chicago. It has formed into a rather striking image, and so of course everyone is going ape-shit as usual.

Maybe I'll start a blog rumor that it was secretly done by me in order to stir everyone up into a frenzy. I was in the city on Saturday...

But everyone would know it wasn't me, because if I did something like that, it'd look like Frodo or Princess Leia or some stupid shit like that.

Another plug for The Comics Curmugeon. Click the strip above to read the best social commentary on the comics page since we performed live-action versions of Mark Trail and Rex Morgan, M.D. back in college.

Wow, suddenly it's Sunday afternoon and I realize that I haven't written anything since Thursday. I guess I got caught up with work and the nice weather and the fact that I'm finally sleeping normally again.

I think that's mostly due to some work stuff I won't bother getting into. It's mostly about my plans for next year, where I'll be, etc. I can't say everything's 100% final, but at least some of the fretting and worrying is finished. Plus, there's nothing like a few smokes and some single-malt to finally get some of the tension out.

(Now before ya'll without sin cast the first stone and lecture me about the evils of smoking and drinking, it was one night. The rest of the time I'm all about clean living. Except for all the french fries I ate this week.)

Quick link: NewCity Chicago has a cover story on podcasting this week, which Bicyclemark and his followers should find interesting.

Thanks to Ms. Thingk for the Arcade Fire suggestion. Bought Funeral on Friday, and it lives up to the hype. I also grabbed Ray Lemontagne's Trouble, which I also heartily recommend.

Speaking of one of Bicyclemark's lovely female readers that I am also lucky enough to have as a reader, the Zoo of Brooklyn seems to be shutting down. That's a shame; hopefully she'll pop up again soon with colorful pictures of rainy European streets.

Wandered around Chicago on Saturday but didn't take any memorable pictures, I'm afraid. I could have gone down to the new gigantic McDonald's at Clark and Ontario, but one new Illinois tourist attraction is enough for this blog this week.

Over here in the Land of Lincoln the local media has (or is it have?) been going ape-shit over the new Lincoln Museum and Library that opened up in Springfield. Instead of a boring old collection of relics and old pictures, this one "brings Lincoln to life with booming cannons, holographic ghosts and latex statues so lifelike the arms have freckles," according to this story at CNN.com.



Apparently they want this to be a major tourist attraction, so they've gone all-out in order to make this a 21st century museum. I'm interested in seeing how they pull it off. Do they do justice to such an important historical figure, or do they cheapen him with Disneyesque mannequins and light shows?

I'm a little creeped out by the assasination scene above. Is that really appropriate? In a hundred years (or even fifty), will be have an animatronic Lee Harvy Oswald waiting from some recreated Book Depository building while a robot President Kennedy waves from a robot black convertible?

Or maybe that's a better portrayal of history. I'm not complaining, just questioning. I'll make it down to Springfield sometime soon and check it out.

Dan [notices Dana's hand]: Hey, where's your ring?

Casey: It's at the cleaners.

Dana: No it's not at the cleaners, you idiot! There's no such thing as an overnight ring cleaners! Gordon and I broke up, which is just the most recent in a series of recent humiliations. And I'm okay with it, I can take it - but this is really the living end. I have seen enough to know that I have seen enough! Now I want something good to happen. I want something good to happen before the day is over, and I'll be the judge of what is good.

No I didn't get dumped by anyone named Gordon, or umiliated by someone named Gordon, or dumped or humiliated by anyone at all for that matter. It's just the Sports Night Quote of the Day, to better illustrate my current mood. Seriously, I could just throw up quotes from that show or Lord of the Rings and I could explain everything there is to know about life.

Better than whining about work, right?

Oh yeah, one more thing: today in the Tribune it was reported that 55 percent of Americans believe in the Rapture. The Rapture. The Seven Seals and the Antichrist and the Tribulation (whatever that is) and the whole Left Behind-Revelations-End of Days crap that was cool to talk about in junior high, but you know, it's something you outgrow, once you realize the world is a little more complicated. Or at leat I thought.

55%!

55 fucking percent???? Over half of this country thinks that God is going to just whisk away the Chosen up to Heaven while snakes and monkeys or whatever they are will plague the Earth. And they also don't believe in environmentalism either, because, well, the Earth is doomed, so why bother keeping it clean?

I can't stand it. I really can't stand it.

I finally got around to figuring out how Bloglines works. Bicyclemark turned me on to it a while back, but I'm a lazy man and never sat down and really set it up properly. If you look to the left you'll see the list of the current blogs I read on a daily basis.



A couple of new additions to the BlogList: Recent commenters Waking Up in Bliss and Emotional Paradox are on the list. I'm a huge fan of the new Ms. Thingk blog (great D of C pics over there) and if you like comic strips like I do (admit it, you used to read Gil Thorp every day when it was in the sports section) then check out the Comics Curmugeon. It reminds me a lot of a comics column that ran in a free Baltimore weekly I used to read.

(That picture is actually shamelessly stolen from Dublin blogger Linus, another great blog to read.)

And that should do it for my blog-love for the day. I figured a list of other blogs would be better than the horrific day I spent in rain and Chicago traffic and a mind-numbingly boring conference on gifted education strategies, all done on about 20 minutes of sleep.

Insomnia! Cha cha!!!

If I don't find some new music soon I'm going to freak out.

I haven't bought a new CD that really blew me away in a long time.

That Van Morrison live album doesn't count, either. It's from 1974. The new Moby album is good, but it's not exactly fresh. I need a new band. A heard-the-song-once-on-the-radio-and-ran-out-and-got-the-album-as-fast-as-humanly-possible band.

It was like that when I heard "We Will Become Silhouettes" on Soma FM a while back, but there's only so much of the bleeps and heartache of the Postal Service that I can listen to. (I love, love that album, as many of you know. But I've been sucking off that musical teet for a year and a half. I need something new.)

Any suggestions?

I think I have figured out why my fingers were going numb lately:



I spent most of my spring break in this exact position, completely absorbed by The Princes of Ireland. Yesterday afternoon I decided to finish the book, and noticed my fingers (which had been feeling more normal) started going numb again.

So for all you readers out there, take my advice: read a book in the most ergonomically-correct position, lest you start thinking you're having a stroke.

As far as drunk food goes, it probably isn't a good idea to get hooked on corned beef sandwiches for a midnight snack.

Just sayin'.

The pinky and the ring finger on my left hand have been numb for about a week.

Diagnosis?

I can't think of anything to write, and I'm pretty bored, so I'm reduced to taking one of these quizzes:

You're Watership Down!

by Richard Adams

Though many think of you as a bit young, even childish, you're
actually incredibly deep and complex. You show people the need to rethink their
assumptions, and confront them on everything from how they think to where they
build their houses. You might be one of the greatest people of all time. You'd
be recognized as such if you weren't always talking about talking rabbits.


Take the Book Quiz
at the Blue Pyramid.

Got the idea from this blog, which you should go check out. C is a 33-year old teacher from Glasgow who is currently riding a bike across much of Britain.

C is like the more intellectual Scottish version of me, only with stronger leg muscles.

And I've never even read Watership Down.

I think I have a little gnome that lives in my cupboards, and his job is to organize my plastic containers.

Because God knows I haven't bothered to do it. I don't know how they get that way.

For Bella, a self-portrait in 10 pictures:





















Here is Bella's Homework she assigned her loyal readers, and here is her original self-portrait (in 25 pictures no less, which is way better than mine.)

Dammit...

We just couldn't pull it off. Too many missed 3s and a tough defense by UNC.

No championship for Illinois this year.

You just can't win against the big dogs all the time. You can't expect the Red Sox and the Fighting Illini to win in the same year, can you?

Ehh. It was a great season, one of the best ever. Bruce Weber and the 5 starters (4 of which are actually from Illinois) were grand men this year. Thanks for a lot of great games.

At least the Cubs won today.

One sign that the world is not that bad of a place:

Sin City was #1 this weekend.

It kicks so much ass, people. Go see it.

Comic books kick ass, too. Me and The Chieftain used to read Sin City in college.

I hope he saw it this weekend as well, and remembered the countless hours we spent poring over that and The Sandman and Next Men and Madman comics when we should have been studying.



What a cool fucking movie.

Thank the Maker that people actually respect source material now. They could have fucked up X-Men, or Lord of the Rings, or even Spider-Man, but they didn't.

Bring on V for Vendetta, and someday, The Sandman.

Spring is here, and so is baseball...

Sammy Sosa is now an Oriole, the Washington Nationals are getting ready to play their first-ever game in DC, and the Red Sox open up the season tonight in Yankee Stadium.

And the Cubs already have two pitchers down for the count.

Some things change, but some things never change.

Let's hear it for green grass, open windows, and short sleeves.

Let's hear it for longer days and sweet evening coolness and the planning of summer vacations.

Let's celebrate the Fighting Illini playing for the national championship on Opening Day, and while we're at it, cheer on the Chicago Bulls, winners of nine in a row.

In the midst of all this talk of death and disease, feeding tubes and dead Popes and angry rants, let the coming of spring be a herald of better times to come.

Because something good has to happen soon.