Camelback Conquered

Last year I tried to go up Camelback Mountain in Phoenix, AZ. Last year my foot prevented me from making it up to the top.

This year I beat the Mountain.

I did have a year of not doing foolish things. Well, relatively not foolish things. And I also tried using different footwear. Last year I had on running shoes. They were so soft that they bent over every rock and protruberance, thusly hurting my foot. This year I had hiking boots. They were heavy with a hard soles and went over the ankle and provided support there.

It was a 49m 19s to get to the top, and 45 minutes to get down. Down would have been easier if I were able to jump and run down like a billy goat, but I didn't want to risk hurting myself. We could have hoofed it when we got back tot he street, but we were chatting and not too worried about the time.

So I beat the mountain. Because it defeated me last year, that was the reason I called Terry to hike it this year.

Bottom line. I hold grudges. I don't forget...

Zombie Mania

Currently Zombies are in the zeitgeist of American culture. Not really mainstream culture, I guess, but on the edges of geek culture that bleeds over into mainstream. I never thought I would see a really gross graphic zombie show on television, but there it is; The Walking Dead.

I was curious about the show even though I don't like horror movies. I find the torture porn of the Saw movies and Hostel movies very wrong and without redeeming qualities. I don't like horror movies. If I want to scare the piss out of me I'll go risk my life jumping off of things. I don't need demons, serial killers, or monsters...

The Walking Dead shocked me with how graphic the effects were. Certain things I found quite predictable. Guy rides a horse into a town overrun with zombies. The horse will be eaten by zombies. Duh. Guy hides in place where there is a corpse; the corpse is alive and just taking a rest. Duh. One thing that was a surprise and repulsive; they were trying to figure out how the dead knew the people weren't dead. Smell. They didn't smell like rotting flesh. So they cut up a dead body and smeared themselves with with the offal. Brilliant plan and it worked, but EWWWW!

I don't know if you have ever smelled anything dead, like maybe a dead rat in the walls, the odor is repulsively distinct and very powerful. I described it here in Um, Not a Fucking Chance. So my stomach was turning when I saw this technique.

There's also another side to my thinking. I want to know how it works. What has happened to the world that Zombieism is a real workable option? Some sort of super virus? Genetic engineering of a bioweapon? You would think that with all the zombie movies beginning with Night of the Living Dead, scientists would know better than to try such a thing. It never turns out well.

What process is capable of reanimating a dead body? Because once you are dead, very bad things start happening to your body. There are all sorts of things living in your body which are kept at bay by the process of you being alive. Once that spark of life it gone, you are a meal... The politic worms come later after you are in the ground.

I liked the vampire zeitgeist thing. Vampires could at least be sexy and have a conversation. Zombies are rather poor in the brains department unless they are eating them. Vampires are a bit played out right now. I blame Twilight for homogenizing and making them broody eyebrow acting caricatures of something cool. The pendulum will swing the other way when zombies are played out and there will be something new and supernatural which will be all the rage in the media.

Bottom line? I watched 2 episodes in a row, and I had nightmares all night long after going to bed. Fuckin' zombies chasing me...

The American Dream

I've been hearing a lot lately about The American Dream. This being the gold standard politicians drag out when bitching about the way they see America right now. John Boehner gets weepy about The American Dream when saying tax cuts for the richest 2% needed to stay in place.

Seems to me the richest 2% have achieved The American Dream. This dream is to be Uber-Rich, right? And fuck the little guy, the middle class. But that's another subject...

But is there a French Dream? An Australian Dream? An Indonesian Dream? A Russian Dream? I don't really know enough about foreign politics to know if politicians in other countries have a phrase like, The _______ Dream. They very well could. It's an awesome thing to make people long for a time they think was less difficult. They think it was less difficult because they were kids and their parents never let them know things were tough. Don't scare the children...

Do the French, Australians, Russians think they are entitled to The Dream? That life should be easy? Or is that a uniquely American thing? We have a very high opinion of ourselves. We are exceptional! If you look at how we rank in the world for education, we are not exceptional. Except in one area. We have the highest self esteem. Self esteem without talent or intelligence to back it up is vacuous arrogance.

But enough about politicians...

Facebook #5

After a year I still don't have much use for Facebook. I look at it most days and maybe once every 2 weeks post something. I do look at what people are posting but only comment rarely. When I am commenting I have to think, "Will I end up with a lot of emails in my inbox?" because I'm getting every following comment. If the answer is yes, I may not post.

I have blocked a few people. Actors mainly. The ones who are telling me 5-10 times a day that they are in a show with 3 performances on the weekend. I fucking get it. You are in a show. Great. Does posting (bugging people) constantly on FB get their asses in a chair? Doubt it. Because I can tell you I didn't go see these shows. I have also blocked all the games on FB and I blocked the daily messages from God. (I wonder if there are daily messages from Allah, or Buddha?) If God wants me to know something I figure there's other ways to convey a message. Burning bush worked for Moses.

The people who post every little thought that goes thru their heads make me wonder if they ever have a thought of consequence. I have lots of trivial thoughts, but they aren't really important enough to shout to the world. And the thoughts that I'd like to shout to the world are too personal. How do you write something like, "Mom's severely depressed and wishes she were dead?"

I have an issue with the privacy thing as well. I don't like the applications that give access to all my information, and the information of my "friends". I know this social network is a platform for data mining like no other, but I don't want to have my identity stolen. It's pretty easy with the basic information. Hometown. Date of Birth. Mother's maiden name. And there is an app that tells people where they are at any moment. When I see that on the wall, I want to comment, "Stealing your flat screen TV!"

I have seen people get support for when their dad died unexpectedly. That is nice. But this thing glorifies the trivial and mundane.

"I like toast with cream cheese", but I'm not going to update my FB page when I'm having it as a snack...

December Birthdays

My birthday is in a few days. December 19th to be exact. (I'm going to be 28.) Because my birthday is so close to Christmas it's sometimes difficult to have a party. This is for lots of reasons.

1. Christmas is 6 days away. People are out of town.

2. People are busy.

3. Actors (which are most of my friends) are doing Christmas shows.

4. People are shopping.

5. People are working harder to get ready for the time off they will take.

This year my party is shared with another person who has his birthday the day after mine. It's being kept small. I've never been one for big birthday parties. Not my style. And it's tough to get people to commit to anything in a time which is so busy.

I think I might do a half birthday in June. It might be easier to get a group together...

Frank/Jack and the Holy Box of Antioch

Back when I was in Phoenix a group of friends came up with a ritual performed at parties. Don't worry. I doesn't involve sacrificing kittens on a moonlit equinox, it was a drinking ritual. One that lasts to today when we get together, usually at a Cutthroat Christmas Party. (Steal from your friends game.)

The Box was one of those tin gift boxes you see at Christmas time with some kind of booze and maybe a flask or glasses. The booze in question was Jack Daniels. Not any kind of special Jack, not Gentleman Jack, or anything fancy, just plain old Jack Daniels. There might have been glasses, but I don't remember. The bottle was nestled in a plastic felt-like holder.

A ritual was started by Ron and Oz somehow. When the box was brought out during a party, the person holding it would hit their forehead with the box before pouring shots from the bottle. The ritual was stolen from Monty Python and the Holy Grail. It was the countdown for the Holy Hand Grenade used to destroy the rabbit. If you don't know the movie, rent it.

"The number of the counting shall be 3, and 3 shall be the number of the counting. 1, 2, 5. No 3 sir." And then everyone would drink the shot of Jack. A simple ritual. It sounds kind of stupid when I write it here, but it was a bond of friendship with a group of people I don't see too often now.

Now the Frank part of this tale... When I was working a Frank Sinatra concert in Tempe AZ, I stole a half full bottle of Jack Daniels from his dressing room after the show. Actually the concert was Frank, Dean Martin, and Liza Minelli. Sammy was supposed to be on that tour but had recently died.

Well, not letting a bottle of Jack go to waste, we drank most of it. When there was a few shots left we transfered them into the bottle in the Box of Antioch. So the molecules of alcohol from Frank mixed with the bottle and transmuted it. Like water to wine in the Catholic church I guess. As each bottle got low we transfered to the next bottle. This went on for years. I don't know what happened to the Box or Frank.

Well, Ron slept with women he shouldn't have and was kicked out of the group. So the party was Oz. The party ended on April 28, 2008 when Oz had a heart attack and died. A larger than life guy with a body to match. We did the toast at the grave site for Oz with a bottle of Jack. And every year since we do the toast as a memorial at the Christmas party.

I have to miss the party this year.

Letter to Senator Kyl of AZ

Dear Senator,

By blocking the START treaty you are putting the USA in danger. This treaty has inspections that verify Russian nukes aren't missing from their stock pile. This keeps nukes out of the hands of terrorists who are trying to acquire nukes or material for dirty bombs. Are you really so intent about stopping the President that you would put the country in danger? 1500 nukes on either side is enough to blow up the planet dozens of times over. By cutting the stockpiles we gain verification that their weapons are safe.

I grew up in AZ. I'll tell all my friends and family to vote against you in your next election. You care more about politics and blocking the President than helping the country stay safe.

Sincerely, Brad Upton

Kinda cool that you can instantaneously piss off a Senator. I wonder if he will read it or if some assistant deletes it. I didn't ask for a reply.

Razors and Shaving

A razor is personal choice. What feels good on one face may not feel good on another face.

Electric or manual? one blade? 2 blades? 3 blades? 4 Blades? 5 blades? A manual with 5 blades vibrating with a small battery in the handle? A blade with another blade on the inside with 3 more blades, and each of those blades has 5 blades in an ever increasing exponential orgy of cutting the whiskers on your face! AAAAAAHHHH!

Because if one blade is good, 2 is better, which is eclipsed by 3 blades rocking the world! But 4! 4 blades has to be better because its more than 3. But wait! 5 blades in a vibrating handle wielded by a hot blond stripper! What could be better than that? (Ok, got to admit I like the stripper idea.)

I shave every 2-3 days with a Gillette Sensor Excel. It's 2 blades. But the real bitch? It's been around for a long time which makes it old. And no one wants to use what's old. Manufacturers seem to think that if something is old, no one will want it, because new is always better. I'm not Hugh Hefner when it comes to shaving. I don't need a new 23 year old every time. (Hm, strange analogy, but I think you get the point.)

I don't like the angle of the 5 bladed razors. I don't like the way it cuts the hair from my face. I always am afraid I'm going to slice large sections of my face off. And since there are 5 blades I can be much more efficient about the massacre.

Because what I like is an older shaving system, the refills are out there, but just as expensive as when the system was new. You'd think they'd discount the blades. I used to buy in bulk at Costco, but because it's old, you can't buy refills for my razor anymore. Nothing less than 3 blades.

This consumerism may be best illustrated in the toothpaste aisle. How many types of Crest do you see? How many Colgates? The whitening, anti-cavity, tar tar controlling, anti-plaque, gel with baking soda and pommegranate for sensitive teeth. Seriously, if you brush you teeth 2-3 times a day with something as simple as baking soda, you will keep your teeth clean. We've been convinced things have to be complicated and NEW.

Vegas Observations

I went to Vegas for the first time in 10 years. A friend of mine was working at Area 51 (yes, that Area 51.) and he had the weekend off so they came down to Las Vegas. We walked miles and miles and looked at people and did fun things.

DRINKING: Something about Vegas makes people drink more than they would if they were at home. The ability to buy a meter long margarita is awesome, but ultimately a bad choice. Since I have been drinking I learned where the line is. I can get to the line in the sand and not cross. People seem to forget all they learned drinking and imbibe like they are a 21 year old novice. $1 Kamikazi shots are a bad thing. Or awesome! So generally you are encouraged to drink until you puke, pass out or wake up with a Thai ladyboy. The alcohol is part of many opportunities for bad decision making...

WOMEN: If you are a moderately attractive girl or woman you can make money. This can be done in a myriad of ways. You can be a dealer in a casino. They wear things like tight uniforms, or cowgirl outfits or referee outfits. Or you can wear a bikini and dance on the bar that serves alcoholic slushies on Fremont Street. You can be a dancer in a show; fully clothed, partially clothed, topless, or nude. If you are shy you can dance nude silhouetted in a window. You can also be one of the "girls to your door in 20 minutes" advertised on the cards which are handed out by the people on the strip. Though I doubt the girl that shows up at the door is the one on the card. How does t hat work? There is a pool of hookers waiting for a call from a madame, pimp, dispatcher? They go from hotel to hotel? Strange...

GAMBLING: The casinos have lots of ways to separate you from your money. Casinos were not built by winners. The odds generally are not in your favor. I bet that if there was a casino game where the gambler won more than lost, that game is on the scrap heap within a week. The people I noticed gambling were the ones in the "High Limit" areas. Many of these were empty. There were some that had young guys around the tables. It made me wonder what they do that they can piss away money without any concern that it's MONEY. Trust fund babies? How much can they lose comfortably? Instead of losing the money to a casino, give it to me. It would be just as gone.

ELVIS: Elvis is King. Elvis is everywhere you look. Seriously. I'm a big Elvis fan, but I was amazed at his presence there. As I walked thru the Aria casino, I saw 5 bad Elvises gambling at a table. These were guys I had seen for the last 2.5 days on the streets of Vegas having their pictures taken with tourists. I wish I had brought my leather '68 Comback special suit. I could have made some cash... (Still a thought in the back of my head.) There are 4 Elvis impersonators in shows around the town. There is a Cirque Du Soliel show called Viva Elvis at the Aria. The cheap tickets were $99. At one casino they have the Big Elvis. He weighs 350-400 pounds. He had a good voice and a reverence for the King. If he had been mocking him I would have left pissed off. You don't mock Elvis.

Leg Update #3

I went to PT (physical therapy) last thursday. I got to say the waiting room for PT is kinda fucked up. Because everyone in there is injured in a long term kind of way. Which is depressing to look around at and see who is more fucked up than you are. I looked like the most healthy and hale guy there. (note to self, don't get old...)

The person doing my PT is an asian girl. I don't remember her name, but she looks like my long lost friend Julie. Without the rage issues... The exercises are not difficult. At this point I'm trying to stretch the muscle out and massaging the hematoma to make it smaller. I did find it a bit funny having an cute asian girl massaging my thigh. No happy ending though.

So I do this for a month and then we will work on building up new muscle fibers to replace the ones I tore. Yay...

"I'm a Genius"

I heard this 10-15 times this week in the 7 hours working with this 21 year old kid. He was a nice kid but a bit of a motor mouth. I found it funny he was so adamant about the statement and it was a bit telling as to who he is. "I'm a Genius," or statements about how smart he is and how quickly he picks things up happened a lot during the day. He said he had a photographic memory, and how he could be shown something once and would be able to to the task.

Well, from what I saw on the steel, those statements were a stretch of his competency. When someone says, "I'm a fucking genius," I'm going to pay attention, see how they do whatever task. Do they do something exceptionally well? Did they innovate or do the task in a revolutionary way? Did they show me a new way to do the job I have not thought of in the years of doing said job?

Also, when someone makes that statement or tells me how smart and competent they are, it makes me think that someone at some point in their lives constantly told them they were stupid. The cry, "I'm a genius!" is from someone constantly being told they are not.

I've worked with some geniuses. None of them ever said, "I'm a genius." You could tell by how they thought, talked, and did the things they did. Other people would say they were a genius when the person was out of the room. And most everyone would nod their heads in agreement. It was that obvious.

I wanted to tell the kid this observation, but I couldn't get a word in edgewise. He never shut up long enough to listen to another person. Not the trait of a genius.

And the things he said about women made me know he was not a genius. He had no understanding of a creature that years of experience have given me no understanding of.

#1 Priority

Senator Mitch McConnell, the current and future Senate Minority Leader, stated both before and after the November 2nd election that the #1 priority of the Republican party was to ensure President Obama was a one term president.

What a fucking Douchebag.

Yeah, I'm not very civil, but this statement on the leader's part just shows without a doubt that the Republican party doesn't give a shit about the American people. They want POWER. They want failure of the President who is not of their party. Even if the President's failure means the failure of the economy, and the country. But as long as big business, big oil and wall street get to run unregulated and rampant, everything will be awesome.

Why isn't the President calling this guy out? What McConnell said has been in the media. Why isn't this a bigger story? The people that just got elected to Congress are stating that NOTHING will be done for the next 2 years. Unless the President agrees with everything they want.

Really? I thought you were there to GOVERN. It is called GOVERNMENT after all. If the name changes to Obstructionment, then you have a name for the Republican plan.

Let's roll back everything to the 1950's when everything was awesome. We had low unemployment, a chicken in every pot, the Red Scare, bomb shelters popping up all over the place because people were afraid of nuclear war.

Selective memory for America!

Leg Update #2

I went to the doctor's today to get an ultra sound on my thigh. See above.

My injury is a tear to the thigh muscle. It's about 4 cm long and 1 cm thick. The thickness is caused by the hematoma that formed when it happened. The body will have to absorb the blood that pooled there.

Remedy? Physical therapy for about 2 months. To stretch the muscle out and strengthen the muscle and rebuild what was torn. No surgery! Yay!

I think the hematoma has my chin.

Halloweens Past

When I was a kid I wore a different costume every year for Halloween. As I got older they sort of reflected me as a person at that specific time. I remember some of the ones that were costumes that were cool to me, but didn't tell the world who I was. In 3rd grade I was a werewolf just like my brother. Mainly because we got some cool werewolf masks and my mom made us furry gloves to wear.

In 4th grade is where me as an individual started to show thru my choices. In 4th grade I was the Incredible Hulk (pictured above). A short, skinny (maybe 75 pound) Hulk. Because I was short and skinny I was picked on by bullies in school. A lot. So I was an angry kid with no power to fight back. Hence the Hulk. I had green sweats, my mom made purple pants, I had green make up on my face and hands, and my hair was blackened with shoe polish. That was a bitch to get out. I remember lots of shampooing.

In 5th grade I was Mr. Spock from Star Trek. I was hanging out with a kid up the street named Scott. He was a year or two older than me and super bright (He became a computer guru who got his first computer in 1980. Ended up working at IBM). He was Captain Kirk and I was Spock. I was still short and skinny, but I was very bright and to combat being bullied became logical.

In 6th grade, I don't remember what I was, but I went trick or treating with a friend who was one of the popular jocks in 6th grade, Matt. I think I was a basketball player. I was on a team, but because I was short and skinny, I sucked at basketball. But I tried.

7th grade. Don't remember. But I went with Ryan and Dave from my homeroom class. We were the 3 Musketeers. That's what Mrs. Hartman, our teacher, called us because we always hung out together.

8th grade. No idea. Went trick or treating with Ryan and Dave and Todd. The 4 Musketeers.

The costume didn't matter as much as the friends I was with. They gave me a sense of belonging to a group.

In high school me and about 8 of the people who I played D&D with went dressed as our D&D characters. So we were packing a lot of weapons. A lot of weapons. We were walking in Bill's neighborhood when a police car stopped us. We looked like a gang from medieval times walking the streets of Scottsdale. The cop pulled his gun and told us to disarm ourselves. It took about 2 minutes because we had so many weapons on us as part of the costumes. I wanted to laugh at the absurdity of it, but there was a gun pointed in our general direction. He asked us what we were doing. Halloween, walking to a nearby party in costume. He said, "OK" and let us go on our way. Times were simpler then...

So all these costumes were snippets of my psyche. And the costumes I choose to do at conventions are also a window onto my mind and how I perceive myself. I slip down the middle; Heroes and Villains. (Villains have the better dialogue and don't run as much.)

So who were you at Halloween and how did it show the world who you were? Are?

Ignorance.

I was reading the comments from an article on Yahoo. This was the comment from an Arkansas school board member who is resigning from the school board for gay bashing. Not merely gay bashing, but suggesting that gay teens should just kill themselves. And he "enjoyed the fact that they often give each other AIDS and died." The comment in defense of this man is pasted without any help from me. All the grammar, and misspellings are their own.

"We should pray for peoples in the world today, because every body talking about their right, we have a right to respect each other to. I don't care what you say, If everybody was gay there wouldn't be any girls are boys to turn gay, because ther wouldn't be any pregant women,so God wouldn't say be fruitfuly and replesin the earth, so God is a lie, that what all you people are saying, ok women stop getting pregant, let the gay have it, because i know that God made male and felmale, that why you train up a child in the way he are she should go and they will not part from it. God got right to, God right is be ye holy, for i am holy, have you went to God in pray and ask him to help me get rid of thing you don't like about your self, and was serious about it, because the God i serve can do the imposible thing, see he heal me, deliver me, set me free from sin isures, done so much for me, you got to mean business when dealing with God. I am going to keep on praying for all the peoples in this whole wide world. Nancy"

This seems to be written by someone who believes in God. But apparently not in a dictionary, correct grammar, or sentence structure. Or God's mercy or forgiveness. This person should talk to someone who is gay. Ask them if it's a choice. This is Sarah Palin's America of God fearing common people.

But I'm an elitist liberal...

Leg Update

I went to the doctor to have him check out my leg. I wasn't that concerned about the bruising, and some of the pain was less, but there was a lump under my skin. Not a bruise. This was a lump that could be moved side to side, but not up and down. Tendon cut loose? Muscle? What the fuck?

The doctor thinks I may have torn some muscle when I fell. Not the whole thing, but a portion. If I had torn my quad loose, there'd be a BIG lump. So I have been referred to a sports medicine doctor to see what can be learned with an ultra sound...

More later.

Phone Envy

I hate to admit it, but I had a bout of Phone Envy this week.

I have a phone, not a smart phone, but one where I can get email and receive calls. But I don't have the capability to go online and see websites or crap like that. And normally I don't care about that. My phone is for communication, I don't live my life online or thru my phone. But this week I was working a gig that had me sitting for maybe eight hours. I was watching the guy next to me, who is just as bored as me, play with his Droid phone and do stuff my bored mind would have loved to be doing too.

I was asking him questions about his phone and his plan and his service for the Droid. Right then is when I wanted what he had. I can get a new phone because mine is 2 years old and could be replaced without much cost. But I still like my phone. It's been durable as hell, considering the times I dropped it and hit it against things as I've been walking. Would a smart phone be able to take the hit? I don't know...

So I will continue to research this stuff, ask people about their phones, and eventually I will upgrade my phone.

Until then I will be glancing at other people's phones to see how they size up. It's not the size it's how you use it, right?

Language Fail

I'm currently reading a book called "Grumbles From the Grave" by Robert A Heinlein. He's a science fiction author probably best know for "Stranger in a Strange Land." This book is a bunch of his correspondence with his publishers and agent and others. This is when people wrote letters longer than "LOL"...

In one of the letters he comments to a publisher that his vocabulary is probably 300,000 words. I find that number astounding, impressive and somewhat sad. Sad because the number of words in people's vocabulary is ever decreasing.

I read a lot. I read a lot of obscure science fiction/fantasy and know words like "erebus" (I'd say look it up, but it's not in most dictionaries. It means darkness. Really dark, primordial darkness. For example: "Conan walked through the erebus darkness of the tunnel, sword at the ready in his right hand." Thank you Robert E. Howard.). But in the world today there are fewer people reading, fewer words being used by those writing, and things are being lost... This is bound to happen in a world of texts and shortening words to fit into 140 character tweets.

I work with riggers. In a previous blog I mentioned how every other word out of some of their mouths is "fuck." I love the word FUCK; I say it quite often and liberally, usually while driving. But when people use it so often in place of other words they forget how to talk like educated people. Erudition should not be lost, but I think it's getting lost and there will eventually be a big price to pay when the dumbed down masses take over the world. (Sarah Palin for President!)

I find it annoying when people are proud of their ignorance. "Fuck yeah! That's the way common Americans talk!" Common is not good. Common is WalMart. Common didn't get us to the moon. And common will never get us back to the moon or beyond.

So I guess I'm saying pick up a book, and "Soar beyond the common bound." (Sorry, Mercutio, my old friend.)

90 Days Delayed Slightly

I started the exercise program on Monday! Did the work out for arms and chest. Then I ate a bunch of egg whites. Less than 3 hours later, I ate lunch. At 3 pm I had some cashews. Dinner at 5 pm. Then at 9 pm I had more egg whites. The whole fucking day I was hungry. This was not my normal demons, they were in ravenous overdrive.

Tuesday. I did the plyometrics. Which is a lot of dynamic jumping. I modified it a bit to accommodate my foot. This was tough; I was sweating like crazy into the shirt specially designed to whick away moisture. I watched the clock on the screen wind down. When I finished I showered and worked on clearing my things out of the house where I'd been housesitting for 28 days (86 total for the year so far!). As I walked out the front door with my hands full, I slipped on the wet brick steps and went down. I didn't fall forward, I went into what might be called a quad stretch very fast. It was excruciating. I was lying on the grass trying to get my leg straightened out. I left the stuff outside and went into the house. I had a glass of cold water on the table from working out, I took 2 ibuprophen and sat down on the couch.

I was sweating and shocky. My vision was a bit jumbled. I was in shock. And for the first time in ages I cried for a few minutes. I was in such pain and so disappointed that this would happen on day 2 of training, I just let it out. I needed a cathartic cleaning lately anyway. I iced my thigh for a long time and sat in the dark.

Fuck! What Fucking Next? Jesus!

After the drugs kicked in I was walking around in pain, but no limp. It didn't seem like I tore anything. And the funny thing is, if I had fallen without doing a hard leg workout, I might have been hurt more because all my muscles were cold.

So right now I'm waiting for the leg to feel better. Taking painkillers and anti inflametories. Waiting until I can start doing P90X again.

Fuck me! Extremeness sucks!

90 Day Experiment

I have succumbed to the vanity and the fad of a workout program. I'm trying the P90X workout thingie. I hate to say it but I finally caved.

You see, after I injured my foot last year, April 2009, I have been afraid to do some things like run. I'm concerned that I will be in pain, cause the foot to hurt progressively more, and more. But last week I played kick ball and the foot was okay. Nothing more painful than what I deal with on the day to day basis. Because I had the fear of chronic pain and aggrivating the injury, I was more sedentary. Well, sedentary for me. My sedentary is other peoples active.

A friend of mine is doing it and he was bugging me to try. I was protesting the cost, but found it on ebay for about half. It arrived in the mail yesterday and I looked it over. Besides the workout there is also a very strict diet plan. This is problematic to me for a number of reasons.

1. I'm a picky eater. It has reached a level of notoriety among my friends that I find embarrassing. So much of the food listed in the diet are things I don't eat and a bunch I've never tried. Tofu? Turkey bacon? Egg whites? Okay, I've had them as part of the egg, but I like the yolk. You cook it over easy so that when the yolk breaks it oozes all over the plate and you sop it up with toast. Awesome.

2. This will cause my metabolism to increase!?! Fucking really? So instead of being ravenously hungry every 4 hours, it will be every 3? 2? Ugh. I don't look forward to that and am trying to think of a protein powder or some power bars to take up the slack.

3. I don't want a 6 pack of abs. Really. I have gained about 10 -15 pounds since the injury and I want to get rid of the jiggle in my flesh that I have never had before. This seems the fastest way to get rid of it. I have always been thin. To the point that a girlfriend's mom commented that I looked gaunt. (Thanks, Judy)

4. I have injuries that have a bit of pain all the time. I'm not going to enumerate them here, but I can be in pain just standing. I have a stoic attitude about it. There's not much to be done. I could maybe try some surgeries to fix some of the joints that I have over used rigging and skiing and other dangerous activities, but I don't want people cutting into me. It's a cost thing as well. Also I know people who have had knee surgery and they wished they had never done it. The difference was negligible and they are still in pain.

So this will be an experiment. Can I put up with all this? The hunger and food thing will be the hardest for me, I think.

Will I come out looking like a superhero? Ok, that might be cool. Isn't the secret of any weight loss; eat less, eat better, move more?

I start tomorrow... BTW. I hate ab work...

A Blog, Yes...But I Want More

Having a blog is kind of cool. I can publicly/privately vent about things that are on my mind. But for all my facestious bluster and anger, there are things I would like to write about, but I don't. Things that are just too personal to me (i.e. Family stuff). I have nowhere to go with the angst and confusion. These situations I care deeply about, but I can't help in anyway. And I hate that powerless feeling.

This week was strange in how it all worked out. What took up my time and vexed me. And my normal energy I have churned around in my chest and had no where to go.

Like a Ferrari that never gets out of the garage.

Freedom of Speech

The Supreme Court heard the case of the Westboro Baptist Church this week. These are the assholes who protest outside the funerals of service men who died in Iraq and Afghanistan with big signs that say "God Hates Fags." "God Hates America."

I hate to say it because they are such humungous douche bags, they do have the right to free speech. Freedom of Speech should cover this. But though they have the right to do something so vile and reprehensible, they shouldn't do it. It's cruel and heartless and shows that their small minds are filled with stupidity that only people who have a mind like a fist have.

They think that America is brought low by it's tolerance of gays? Dude, you should accidentally be run over by a truck on outside one of your protests. Then at your funeral 100,000 people should hold up signs that say "God Hates You." & "You Will Burn in Hell for all Eternity." Then see how your family feels.

Every time they protest, there should be a counter protest. These idiots are the group that stopped protesting Comic-Con this year because the 120,000 people started protesting THEM. So get out some cardboard and sharpies and make some signs that mock the 5 people protesting funerals.

Sex

I keep a journal. Handwritten. 66 volumes of angst and perturbation. Probably several million words.

With tales of sex sprinkled through out.

I'm consolidating the sex into one volume specifically. From my first kiss thru all the things I have learned. Which may or may not be that much.

Now I grant you that women are mysterious creatures and I think they have a hard time believing that men are so simple. But we really are. I love women. When I walk down the street I only see women. Men are just fuzzy blurs. (I stole that from Richard Feynman, actually.)

This volume of sex is not going to read like Penthouse Forum. Though some stories are remarkably strange and unbelievable. This specific journal will be the women I slept with. The few I loved. The ones I snogged in a car after various parties. The ones who broke my heart. The ones who tore my heart out, stabbed it with a knife, ate part of it, set it on fire, then flushed the ashes... Ok, maybe that was just one girl.

And a few (or could be many) I was interested in but they never called me back.

Will anyone read this volume? Nope. No one will be reading my journals either. They are my way of doing therapy without the cost of a shrink. I just thought it would be interesting to write down all the experiences that made me the (hm.. what word am I looking for here? Lover? Idiot?) I am.

Why do this? Every person you sleep with helps shape you. What you like or don't like. What you will or will not be down for. I was flogged by a professional Dom once. (It was a birthday thing.) It was interesting, but I didn't add it to my "things I'm into" as far as sex goes. It was a test of endurance. I also wanted to prove something to the people watching who thought I was a wimp. I did discover I mark easily. The Dom liked that...

Cats

I'm taking care of a couple cats right now. They are sweet, curl up in my lap, but damn they are little furnaces so I have to throw them out of my lap after a while. Throw is too strong a word. Evict them from my lap.

I still think they can see into other dimensions. Or they are just plain nuts. I don't know which. But I'd like a government grant to do some research to decide if they are nuts.

They have been fighting a bit. I don't know what cats fight about but the hissing and thumping that goes with the fights is pretty spectacular. Then I find tufts of black fur on the carpet from the longhaired cat who is typically the loser.

They like going outside. Which worried me a bit when one didn't come back until it was dark. If it was a 12 year old kid I could say "come back when the street lights come on." But it's a cat. I don't know if it knows where it lives and it had no tag. I'm in Burbank, but there are coyotes sometimes. And I saw a raccoon once. So I try to keep a close eye on them.

If the cats disappeared I'd be very bummed. I've never had any animal come to harm while I have been in charge of it.

Lost

A very good friend of mine is joining the Army Reserves. This is not a big thing really except that he retired from the Navy Reserves after 24 years and 3 tours in the Mid East. He was there in 1990 for Desert Storm. He went back in 2003 and 2005 for the Iraq war.

I was hanging out with him at Comic-con after he got back from Iraq in 2005. He was having a hard time with the adjustment back into"real life." I was pointing out something I thought was cool. He said he had a hard time getting excited about anything. This stunned me. I didn't know what to do with that or know what to say.

The experience in Iraq was so heightened that the normal world doesn't compare. When I saw The Hurt Locker I knew exactly what it was describing. When I hung out with him at Comic-con this year he said pretty much the same thing he said 5 years ago. He said he missed the war. Things over there made sense. Since I have never had that type of experience, I don't have any frame of reference.

I think he's kind of lost. So am I in my own way. He has a wife and kids. I have yet to figure that normal stuff out. But he feels the need to go back to something that made sense to him. His wife understands. But his kids are too young to know what is going on.

So my response to this news is; I feel lost too.

Water

I've been thinking about water. I don't know why, I just have.

There are probably only a few things on the planet that have been around since this ball of dust and gas and debris from the creation of the solar system coalesced into this form of Earth. It has had many forms over 4.5 billion years (sorry creationists, I'm an evolution kinda guy) but it has been water. It is 2 hydrogen atoms and one oxygen atom combined. It's a really simple element, but one that can be separated or created anew when you burn hydrogen.

However, it doesn't really get destroyed. The atoms have been around in some form for billions of years. Ice, water, water vapor. Solid, liquid, gas. The water has also been in every thing that has ever lived. Once that thing died, the water moved on. Without water we are about 8 pounds of dry goods.

So the water that is a part of you came from the burning volcanoes 4.4 billion years ago. It was part of the primordial oceans where life first happened. It has been trapped and released from glaciers and ice ages countless times. It was the living breathing dinosaurs, the water they drank and, yes, even dino urine. It has been the rain in hurricanes, the currents of the oceans, the clouds in the sky. And the pool that I swam in even today.

So as far as "elements" go. That's pretty impressive. The only thing that might compare to such a journey over time is air.

Hmmm...

9/11

I remember being woken up after 6 am by a phone call. "Turn on your TV."



I turned the TV and couldn't believe what I was seeing. The first tower was burning.



I watched until my alarm went off and I had to get ready for work. I drove to Santa Monica listening to the radio and hearing the morning DJs describe what was going on in NYC,



The office was watching TV. Not much was being accomplished. I was given the option to skip my everyday work tasks. I chose to do it because I needed normalcy and I had an appointment to keep in the valley. Watching the TV made me feel helpless.



In the elevator of an office building a woman looked at me and said "isn't it awful? how do you fight this?" We still don't have a good answer.

Burning the Koran was an idea that didn't work.

How about education? Teaching the people in the world more than the contents of one book. Keeping people stupid and inflamed works to control them. They will believe what they are told because they don't know how to think for themselves. And don't have the resources to figure it out on their own.

When the world is smarter, and not hungry, then maybe you won't have another 9/11.

Book Burning Cancelled

Terry Jones cancelled his planned burning of the Koran.

I wonder if it was the burning in effigy in Afghanistan? The condemnation by everyone? The hundreds of death threats? Maybe he felt he had gotten on the world stage enough.

Whatever the reason, it's cancelled. Now I wish someone would tell the people still protesting in the middle east that it is cancelled. But they don't have access to newspapers and the television or the internet like we do so they haven't gotten the information. And the people inciting them to protest don't want to give it to them.

Keep your masses stupid and inflamed. It helps to control them.

Burning Books

Burning books is an age old tradition. From the burning of the library of Alexandria, to the Nazis, to the book burnings in the South. If someone finds something objectionable they think burning it is going to squelch the ideas in that book. It's a pretty stupid theory. You don't destroy the thought, you just show your own bigotry and ignorance.

Pastor Terry Jones (not the Brit from Monty Python) is going to burn the Koran to protest the attacks on 9/11. This has recieved global condemnation from governments, religious leaders, and generals fighting the war in Afghanistan. But this has not detered him. I think all the coverage has secretly given him a hard on for attention. I bet money no matter what happens this Saturday, he will do something as outrageous or more outrageous because he has now become a whore for the limelight. This guy will become the equivilant of Lindsay Lohan. The Paris Hilton of the pastoral set. He runs a church no one ever heard of that has 50 people in the congregation. He was kicked out of the church he started in Germany for stealing from the money collected from the flock. This guy is not a holy man. He's an opportunist.

He says he is burning the books because the Koran, "is evil because it espouses something other than biblical truth and incites radical, violent behavior among Muslims." Well, of course, it espouses something other than "biblical truth", fuckhead, it's not the Bible. And what do you think will happen after you burn the book?

There is an easy fix to the book burning. And one I think just might happen. It is legal in this Florida town to have a small campfire on your property. Small bits of woods and twigs. It is not legal to burn anything bigger, for example, books. So have the fire department sitting there with hoses primed and ready. The moment he throws the first book in the fire, go great guns on the fire with 3 high powered hoses. Soak everything and everyone in the immediate area. Then have the sheriff arrest him for illegally starting a fire or some such. Haul him away, in front of all the media that is certain to be there, soaking wet in handcuffs.

If any American anywhere is killed because of a reaction to this book burning, sue him in court for 50 million dollars.

You have the right to practice any religion you want. You have the right to free speech. You can burn books if you are so inclined. You have the right to be a closed minded fuckhead. But really, Pastor Jones, what would Jesus do?

Jury Duty Done!

Ok. This case was an odd one. A civil insurance case. In the end we decided for the insurance company, but to a juror, we all hated that we had to decide that way.

Because the guy's house burned down, there was a claim put in to the insurance company. Not by him, by his agent. The plantiff attorneys tried to figure out who had put in the claim and were they authorized to put in a claim. Blah blah blah.

As a juror you are given certain information and other information might not be given to you because it is prejudicial to the case. For instance. The guy threatened the fire and police who came to put out the fire at his house. He was put on the ground by a 6'7" fireman and the captain, and held there until the PD could come and take possession of him. This was given to us, and there was a photo showing his hands which had been burned on the backs. There was slip of the tongue and someone called it a booking photo. This was struck from the record. But we still remembered it and made us wonder "what happened to the guy after the fire because he was nowhere to be found for weeks." His dad came to town and had power of attorney to do stuff. Presumeably because the guy was in jail or maybe committed. We still don't know. Maybe in alcohol treatment. We don't know. But there was a picture of 8 Absolut bottles in the trashcan...

There were fire and police investigators who said the fire was suspicious in nature. There were 3 cans of acelerant (a 5 gallon gas can with the lid wired open, a 1 gallon gas can downstairs, and paint thinner in another room.) There were pour patterns, an arson dog "hit" on 6 spots in the house. The fire was fast and hot, not like an electrical fire, which he said it was, would have been.

Also the homeowner policy that would have covered the fire had lapsed because he didn't pay the premium. There was an impound account set up to pay the mortgage and that account was supposed to pay the premium. But countrywide changed the terms and sent him a letter telling him he had to pay it. He didn't. Did he forget? Did he read the letter? We don't know.

There was a mind numbing assault on our brains as the defense and plantiff showed the same documents to us over and over. To ask the same questions over and over of the different witnesses. The plantiff attorney had a strange tendency to ask witnesses questions like "did you know there was this or this in the house?" When there would be no way for the witness to know any of this information. So what did it do? Pissed off and bored the audience, which, for all intents and purposes, we were. Lose the audience, lose the case.

I spoke briefly with the defense attorneys. They wanted to know what worked and what didn't. I wasn't going to talk to them, but did. There were things I had in my background I couldn't share in the jury room, but never had to because we ended the trial with 2 questions. Things about the arson dogs. I have a good friend who is a deputy in San Diego. He had drug dogs for years. Because I knew him I knew how the dogs were trained, and how they work, and how well they do their jobs. To tell me the dog is wrong is not going to fly with me.

I'm glad it's over. I don't want to ever do jury duty again. I'm going to have

"FUCKING GUILTY!!!"

tattooed to my forehead. If called for jury duty, they won't ask what the tattoo is about they will just dismiss me out of hand. Am I fucking guilty, is the palintiff? They won't know, but just having me in the jury box would look bad.

"Acting" vs. "Reality"

On set this week I was having a conversation with a friend about acting. It was a progression after my new agent and what I should do about pictures. She said that I as an "actor" it didn't matter anymore in the world of entertainment that now exists. Because of the glut of reality television and all the celebrities who are famous for being famous, i.e. virtually nothing, that an actor like myself had lost any edge in the entertainment industry. Because of all these "real" people acting is kind of moot.

Actors don't matter because everyone is equal in this polyglot miasma of cable, internet, television, youtube, etc. Everyone, no matter how untalented, is the same as someone who studied acting at Juliard. All you have to do is capture the imagination of the audience.

But what captures the audience? What creates a celebrity? Bad behavior, treating people like shit. Generally behavior that would be squelched if you were in kindergarten. Tantrums and an overwhelming sense of entitlement does not make someone talented. It makes them a brat.

Is anyone ever going to want to see some idiot from Jersey Shore do any acting of real substance? The situation doing Hamlet? I don't think so. What are they? They are the unbridled ego, the bad behavior that we all, at some point, would like to do. If there were no consequences or just plain didn't give a shit about being arrested for drunken disorderly. The exec producers of Bones were thinking of having the situation do a guest spot as a dead body on the show. But they decided against it. I don't know, but I doubt he could play a dead person believably.

How many reality TV shows have come along in the last 10 years and the cast becomes the media darling of the moment? A lot. Do you remember any of them? I don't. As far as reality TV goes, the Real Housewives of Wherethefuckever are never going to be watched by me.

Has entertainment changed? Yes. Youtube and the internet have created stars that then move to mainstream conciousness. But are they really that good? Justin Beiber anyone? If his voice were in the body of a 16 year old 5 foot tall 350 pound kid with bad acne, would he be famous? Probably not. The thing Youtube does is give a format for anyone to be seen. There are probably a billion videos on the website. So for anything to get noticed is small, and from what I have seen, most of it is crap.

It's arrogant, but I'd like to think as an actor I am not equal to all the idiots on the Jersey Shore. Or any reality show people. I'd like to think training and talent will set me apart somehow.

I may be wrong. But think of this in the days before the Emmy awards; if reality TV is really real, why does the Emmys have a category for writers of reality TV?

View From The Monkey House

I'm finding jury duty to be something like being in a monkey house. I'm trapped in a box looking out. I want to throw my feces (hereafter called shit), or maybe I can borrow some shit to throw, at the other monkeys outside the box. The monkeys outside the box are the lawyers for both the plantiff and defense.

The really annoying thing is the monkeys outside the box are throwing shit at each other and the witnesses. It would be funny if the whole situation weren't so fucking annoying. The lead plantiff monkey is the most bothersome. Asking the same question 4 different ways. It seems the game is to make the witness say what you are trying to get them to say so they support your position. This tactic happens on both sides.

Since it would be improper to throw shit at them (I'd have to produce or procure shit to throw) I'd like to throw other things. Ninja throwing stars; small, pissed off, vicious animals; cluster bombs. Yes, yes, all these things would be very impractical and 2 of the 3 I wouldn't be able to get passed the metal detectors. But, WOW, I'm hating the experience.

I don't think I can ever look at another John Grisham novel or movie again. That's just not the way anything in the real justice system seems to happen. Fucker.

33 years ago today

Elvis Presley died. An unnecessary death. He died at age 42.

I've been a fan of his since I was a little kid. An Elvis geek, really. I actually saw him perform in Tempe Arizona March 23, 1977. The tickets cost $15 for th nose bleed seats. It was cool. I still remember some things about the concert quite clearly. It's a good memory.

When I work concerts sometimes I'll chat with the roadies. Some have been doing this type of work for decades. If I say I saw Elvis they always ask about it. That type of thing is legend.

He died an icon. He died a legend. But ultimately he died a man. As all of us eventually do.

Disney Concert Hall, Los Angeles

I'm stuck doing jury duty in downtown LA. The Courthouse is catty corner across the street from the Disney Concert Hall. This is where we are parking for our jury service.

Now I have seen pictures of it in movies, in the paper. I remember the big deal that was made about this building when it was first opened. I got to admit I wasn't too impressed. I'd only seen pictures or drove by it.

Well, today after I finished lunch in the cafe of the Disney hall I walked around the outside of the joint. From the street you see soaring sheet metal waves. It's impressive, but honestly the outside is about 1/10th of the building. It has very cool shape and curves and surprising little nooks and crannies that look out over the structure itself or downtown Los Angeles. In one area is a small outdoor ampitheatre with really good acoustics.

In a small nook there was a sign made from post-its instructing you to "Kiss Me Here." It was interesting and kind of sweet.

The structure is covered in brushed stainless steel over most of it. In some areas there is mirror like steel so you can see yourself walking by it very clearly. In some areas you can see the structure that holds the thousands of stainless steel sheet in place. And if you pay attention you can see the numbering system used to place the plates. I saw #4816 in one place. So sheathing this building is thousands of individually numbered sheets. What poor architect had to number all the sheets on some drawing, and describe the dimensions and angles so they could mill the metal? The construction is amazing compared to your standard building. Nothing about this building is standard.

Amazing. Simply amazing. I'm going to take a lunch hour and do the self guided tour with the dulcet tones of John Lithgow telling me about the building.

I'm going down there with my camera to take pictures. I think if Monet were alive he would paint multiple versions of it to document the changes of light for different times of the day.

How To Survive Jury Duty Selection

It seems the only sure way out of jury duty is death. I imagine you need a doctor's note to prove you are no longer among the breathing. The Court would not take you at you non-existent, silent word.

There is an air of "I don't fucking want to be here" in the room that was almost palpable. Or maybe it just radiated all from me. Sometimes it was tough to tell as I certainly didn't want to be there. There are many places I don't want to be, but most have something to do with abject poverty and an inability to understand the language.

Anyway, Survival.

You need something to do. As very few people strike up a conversation with another juror, you need something to occupy your time. A book, magazine or newspaper is good. An electronic device; iphone, ipad, ipod, computer or DVD player. Though with the ipad you need to hold it up as it plays videos.

Julia Child's cookbook and a whole duck to prepare would consume a lot of time, though getting it all thru security and the x-ray machine would be tricky. The sharp kitchen utensils would not be allowed. And if you were able to fully dress a duck, what would you do with it? By the time you were able to get it into an oven 7-9 hours later you would have to be concerned with food poisoning. So I guess a duck, while entertaining is quite impractical as a diversion

Okay. That's it for survival. It seems that jury duty is something you must begrudgingly endure. Like leaf blowers or long flights in cramped seats. The only way out is to be dead or a felon. But how big of a felony? If you fill out the jury duty form untruthfully, it's against the law. But is that a felony big enough to keep you from doing jury duty? Hmmm...

Republican Ads

UNTITLED POLITICAL ADVERTISEMENTS
Commercial NON-UNION
Usage: Web
6 spots


SUBMIT ELECTRONICALLY BY 10AM WEDNESDAY

Rate: $100/half day Rate: $250/full day FOR THE ROLES OF NANCY PELOSI LOOKALIKE AND CLORIS LEACHMAN LOOKALIKE IF POSSIBLE, PLEASE SUBMIT ACTOR'S ONLINE DEMO CLIPS ALONG WITH EACH ACTOR
SUBMISSION.NOTE: Please make sure to google images of all the look-alike roles to ensure you submit appropriately!

Young Frankenstein Characters:
[ FRAU HARMON]Cloris Leachman lookalike
[ MONSTER]tall, big man
Why No Debate Characters:
[ 3 REPORTERS ]male reporters looking late 20's - mid 40's

The Wrath aka Star Trek Characters:
[ CAROL ]early 40's, blonde, mother, fairly attractive
[ SPOCK]Leonard Nimoy type
[ NANCY PELOSI LOOK ALIKE ]$250/day

Wicked Witch of the West Characters - must be able to do an imitation of them:
[ SCARECROW ]...
[ TIN MAN ]...
[ LION ]...
[ DOROTHY ]...

The World Has Had Enough/Pelosi Royalle Characters:
[ WOMAN DANCER ]sexy young woman
[ M ]Judi Dench type
[ Q ]original older man type
[ BARTENDER ]female, mid 20's
[ MINI NANCY PELOSI (LITTLE PERSON)]able to bug her eyes out. SUBMIT LITTLE PEOPLE.
[ CHARLIE RANGLE - LOOK ALIKE ]slight heavyset African American with salt and pepper hair, bushy eyebrows and moustache
[ HARRY REID - LOOK ALIKE ]grey haired distinguished older gentleman with glasses
[ MAXINE WATERS - LOOK ALIKE ]late 50's African American woman
[ HENRY WAXMAN - LOOK ALIKE ]balding with grey hair along temples, big ears, grey moustache, glasses

Saving Cloris Leachman:
[ LATINA WOMAN ]20 - 30 yrs., very pretty, speaks Spanish
[ LITTLE KID ]10 - 13 yrs. (think of Billy Mummy in that old Twilight Zone episode)

Above is a casting notice from Friday August 6, 2010. Just from the roles I deduced they are Republican ads. Notice: Non-union, and how little they are paying. I bet this will be a fucking hatchet job.

This is what politics have become. Isn't it sad? I'm sure this happens on both sides. What happened to debate? What happened to cogent thinking? This is politics as built by the Glenn Becks of the world. Slander and mockery.

Bullshit. Just plain Bullshit.

Prop 86'd

Prop 8 was overturned by a judge in San Francisco. In anticipation of a decision, both sides had prepared suits to appeal in the 9th circuit court if they didn't like the outcome of the decision. It's to be expected that something fought so passionately over by both sides would be going further. Probably all the way to the Supreme Court.

The Prop 8 supporters were on the radio almost immediately saying that the lifestyle was a choice. Many lesbians were molested as children. Most gay men were initiated into the lifestyle by older gay men. Blah Blah Blah.

Since I'm generally curious about things, I have asked some of my gay friends if they always knew they were gay or did it happen later. Most always knew they were gay. Some figured it out later and felt like they finally figured out who they were. So the assertion, usually the religious right, that it's a choice, is wrong.

I hope this decision stands. The legal grounds upon which the decision was made by the judge seem pretty solid to me, but I'm not a constitutional scholar. Though now radio and TV talking heads will have "activist judges" to clamor about. That should be amusing watching steam come out of their red, shaking, livid faces.

Gay marriage harms no "traditional marriage."

Soapbox Derby

There's a commercial on TV lately that reminds me of when I was a kid. It's this kid who makes a car for a soap box derby. His dad tells him to do his best. The kid sees the other kid's car, a slick, tricked out race car obviously not made by a child. The boy's blocky car wins the race and the boy goes home happy having learned pride in doing something himself...

I was in Cub Scouts when I was in 3rd grade. They had a soap box derby competition in my troop. You were given a piece of wood and a set of wheels to make the car out of and guidelines for what was allowed. My dad said the same thing as the one on the commercial. I should do the work myself. He would help if I came to a problem.

Since I was a pretty self sufficient kid that was fine with me. My dad didn't have a tool shop or many power tools and, well, I was maybe 8 years old. Power tools are dangerous if in the wrong hands. So I set about making my car. I don't have a picture of it, but it was just as blocky or maybe more so than the one in the commercial. I painted it blue, gave it the #9 and thought it looked cool.

When I got to the derby that night I saw what the other kids had done with their cars. They had sleek sports cars that were one step away from being formula 1 cars. Oh, but wait, they did all the work themselves. The word "bullshit!" would have popped out of my mouth if I had known it at the time. All the other kids cars were made by the dads. On the underside of one car I remember seeing a space carved out and filled with lead shot to add weight to the car to make it go faster. It was epoxyed in to keep it in place. This was within the guidelines for the manufacture of the car. But I knew the kids didn't do it. My car looked like it was made by a kid. These were not.

I lost every race I was in. Badly. I don't remember who won. It doesn't matter. It did teach me that people don't necessarily follow the rules. And sometimes they win. I still am pretty self sufficent, but now have mad skills. Funny what a simple commercial can stir in the memory.

Just because the game is fixed doesn't mean you shouldn't play.

Comic Con 2010 -- Day 4

I didn't have anywhere to be or anyone to meet if I didn't feel like it so I took in a couple panels. I am endeavouring to be a voice-over actor as well as live action, so I went to 2 panels about voice-over. The first one was Cartoon Voices II with working actors in VO. Legends some of them. Like Janet Waldo (Judy Jetson), Tom Kenny (Sponge Bob Squarepants), and others. IMDb lists for these people are really astounding...

The panel was cool, and a bit daunting. These people are so good and so quick witted and funny it makes anyone out in the audience wanting to do it feel inferior. The moderator gave them a script for Cinderella to cold read. Cold reading is where you read a script without ever having seen it. You don't really get a chance to make any decisions, you just go with it. The actors were all given 3 parts to read. The narrator had to use a different voice each time he talked. It was interesting to see how they worked. They went off the script in several places and you could tell, but the ad libs were funny.

I thought about going to the GLEE panel. I know someone in the cast, but she wasn't at the con. I also didn't want to fight the crowd, and thirdly, it would interfere with seeing the other panel I wanted to see; The Business of Cartoon Voices. This is where some of the people from the previous panels gave advice to us about how to get into the VO world. I took notes and will see how I can impliment a plan...

After the panel I called up Zack. We would meet for dinner at a Mexican place in Old Town San Diego. I left the convention at 3 pm and went to pack. I walked the 6 + blocks to my car and was relieved to see it where I left it. I found some good parking on Thursday and hadn't been back to it since Friday morning. Zack called when they were out of the con and I drove my loaded car to Old Town. The food was really good. And those who know me know I'm just trying to feed the machine, but this food was good.

I left San Diego around 10 pm. I didn't want to go home. Life's been stressful and it was so nice to get out of LA and play a bit. It was also nice to be perceived as a professional actor. It's sometimes very ephmeral in LA.

Comic Con 2010 --- Day 3

This was the view from the stage we were on for the panel on acting I was a part of. There were 5 actors on the stage with me and at the next platform were 3 directors. The panel was moderated by Sean Rourke. Each year he does this he gets better at it and more sure about the information and how to say it concisely. As we sat up there we were cracking jokes and making comments to each other as we waited to throw in our 2 cents worth. It was a lot of fun and the actors each had a chance to share what it is we go thru as actors when working some low budget projects.

Now I get nervous talking in front of people. Well, nervous as me. I can be other characters and say memorized lines like they were the first time I'd ever said them, but me saying what I'm thinking as I'm thinking it? Fucking scary. I find I think too fast to get a coherent sentence out sometimes. I stumble over words or create whole new ones. Sigh.

As I was on the panel I kept getting called by a friend of mine, my old roommate Mark. I couldn't take the call. I'm on a panel, talking. So I let it go to voice mail. He texted. I replied and gave him a number for the person who might be able to get him in. My friend Zack who I have been hanging out with was in a meeting and had a pass for him. Mark was waiting in the hot sun for 30 minutes. Zack met up with him outside and was on the phone talking to his publisher. Mark turned white as a ghost, his lips were blue and he was sweating profusely. He said he felt dizzy, walked into the shade and collapsed against a wall!

Zack sent security to get medics. It turns out Mark had heat stroke, basically, but because of other things (liabilty of the convention and his health issues), he was sent to the hospital. 10 hours later he joined us for dinner. Not a good day for Mark, but I'm glad he's ok.

I spent Saturday walking around the halls after my panel dressed as Captain John Hart from a BBC series called Torchwood. My friend Bill was Captain Jack Harkness also from Torchwood. Since we both are good costumers and look like the actors in the show, we had our picture taken a lot. It was fun. As I was walking around in this costume I had a number of people pass me and tell me the actor who played the part, James Marsters, was signing at a booth "over there." So I found where he was signing and his manager noticed me and pointed me out. I walked over to him and we started chatting. He liked the costume and said he hadn't seen many people do it before. He also stood up and looked at the boots I was wearing. As he did I said, "the boots aren't right. They are almost impossible to get right." His manager asked if he could take my picture for James' Facebook page. I said yes. We chatted a bit. It was cool. I didn't get his autograph, or a photo at the professional photo booth. The cost was more than I could justify. He was nice. I did get my picture with him as I leaned over the table talking to him, someone took the photo.

Oddly again, I don't have a picture of me and Bill in these costumes. Again, no pockets...

Bill had to leave around 5 pm. He was done with the crowds and had a real life to return to. So I went to change into street clothes and catch up with Zack and Joanne. We had gotten tickets to Flynn's Arcade again this year. Disney set up and arcade and event to plug Tron Legacy. It was very cool to see how they changed and expanded it from last year. After Flynn's we went to find food. We walked by this Chinese place, Red Beach? But what drew Zack in was the chance to eat at a table in the kitchen. It was just going to be 3 of us but Zack's Army employer called and joined us. The food was really good and it was interesting to eat in the kitchen. Mark showed up around 10 pm after spending 10-11 hours at the hospital. He took a cab to get back to downtown. He was okay, found it embarassing to have such a thing happen. But he would come the next day to see the convention.

It was midnight and I went back to the hotel to crash...

Comic Con and the Religulous

The Westboro Baptist Church set out to save everyone at Comic-Con this year because they were worshipping Batman and Superman but not God. The thing they didn't count on was the ability of the crowd to very quickly and effectively come up with their own signs mocking them.

As I got to the convention center on Thursday I saw the 4 people from the Westboro Baptist Church on Harbor Blvd across from the convention. There was a dad with 4 signs. The son, 9 or 10 had one (He looked like he didn't want to be there. He would rather be at the beach or the zoo or the wild animal park.). The daughter, 12-14 with one sign (same mood as her brother.) And the mom with 2 or 3 signs. The typical God hates Fags, and Jesus saves, and others.

The crafty convention goers found cardboard and sharpies and made signs of their own. "Batman Saves." with a chapter and verse. "God Hates Kittens," "Kill All Humans," "All Glory to the Hypno-Toad," "God Hates Jedi," and the rather rough, "Fuck God!" The convention attendees crossed the street but were not able to get close to the religious protesters, the San Diego police department blocked the way. They were lucky. I'm sure they never encountered such smart, inventive, or mocking people. They may be used to angry pro-abortion people challenging them, but never would they dream what a well read, creative, nerd can come up with. I felt sorry for them. Well, just a little. I don't have much use for people trying to save me with their beliefs. I'm okay. Really. I figured out my own path thru the chaos. Everyone has to figure out their own way.

They seem to have given up sometime in the afternoon. And I never saw them again for the rest of the weekend. Maybe they went to the beach. I hope so. San Diego is a lovely place. Enjoy it. I wonder what happened when they got back to their church. Will they try again next year, but with more people, or have they been mocked into oblivion?

http://www.comicsalliance.com/2010/07/22/super-heroes-vs-the-westboro-baptist-church/

Comic Con pictures

Super fan of Incredible Hulk issue # 181. The introduction of Wolverine.

Supergirl promoting some movie...

The light cycle from Tron Legacy. Life Sized!

Lando Calrissian with a Colt 45 beer

This is a huge faux bronze statue of a comic character named Fathom.

I didn't take a huge amount of pictures. Some of the things I was wearing (costumes) did not have pockets. So I didn't shoot thousands of pictures. Also I only took pictures of things I found interesting. I'm a tough room after years of this show...

Comic Con 2010--Day 2

On Friday I wore a costume for 4 hours in the morning/afternoon. The character is called Carnage. He's from the Spider-man comic books. He's a mass murdering villan. Oddly this is the only picture I took of me, and it's only 1/2 of the costume. I didn't think of taking a picture once the whole thing was on. I wanted to get to the convention center. (yeah, I need to do some ab work) Though once I was at the convention center I had my picture taken several hundred times. And you know what? I really enjoyed it. ;)

What I find funny about the costume is that people have their children take pictures with me. I'm talking 7 and younger. I even had my picture taken with a 6 month old baby. He wasn't scared of me at all. He played with my mask as I held him. I suggested they use it for Christmas cards...

I walked around for 4 hours then when I couldn't take anymore of the mask, (the insides are rather Marquis De Sade like to make it so the teeth open when I open my mouth. It gives me headaches) I went to the hotel and changed into street clothes. I got to say that I find it a bit of a let down to go from everyone wanting my picture to no one wanting my picture...

Comic Con 2010- Day One

If you have never been to Comic Con it's a little difficult to describe the chaos and energy of the place. The attendance is anywhere from 125,000 to 180,000 over the course of the weekend. The picture above doesn't really tell you how crowded it can get or just how big the dealers hall is. The dealers room is probably 4 footbal fields long, 1200 feet, and one football field wide, 300 feet. And in that space it's not just comics -- it is now media and television and video games. It's staggering just how much content is trying to get your attention. It's like a bunch of colorful 3 year olds. But more than a bunch, say 300,000 3 year olds. I think I took this picture on Saturday afternoon when there was a very popular panel upstairs. That clears out the hall sometimes...

As you walk thru the crowd, which is sometimes a very slow proposition, you see a cross section of humanity. From the Uber-geek of any type of media, comic, anime, movie fanatic who is obsessed with a thing (movie, comic, tv show) to the casual day visitor. Or the parents who bring the kids who are obsessed with whatever. There are people in costumes. Some I easily recognize, others I have no idea what the fuck they are. There are hot girls in small superhero, anime, movie costumes. There are heavy girls who shouldn't be wearing spandex (it's a privilege not a right). It reminds me a bit of Halloween. It's a chance for women to dress in skimpy clothes and not be judged. They can be leered at and safe at the same time. Name a movie, video game, television show, cartoon, anime, and someone was probably in a costume from that property. When I do costumes, I do recreations of comicbook characters: Spiderman, Carnage, Sabretooth. Though, I just wore a new one from Torchwood, a BBC series, on Saturday.

There is a preview night Wednesday. It's for the 4 day badge holders to run in and get exclusive toys and whatnot from the dealers. Things that are sold at Comic-Con can sometimes be found on Ebay that very day for much more than it was intially purchased for. I've never gone to the preview night. It has become so popular that 3 hour period is almost as busy as the next day will be.

Yeah, I know, I'm not giving you anything specific about day one. I didn't go to any panels for movies or television shows while I was at the con. I'm not willing to spend 2-3 hours in line to maybe get into a ballroom to see the cast of Glee, or Thor, or the Expendibles. I don't really go to be a fan. If there is a movie coming out in the next year that might have something to do with a fan of this type, it will be at Comic Con. And Glee ended up there, I suspect, because the kids who are in the Glee club would attend Comic Con. So they are making a show about the people who attend the convention. They see themselves as geeks, or rather Gleeks.

How To Survive A

NINJA ATTACK:

When the ninjas enter try to do a ninja trick: Disguise! If possible disguise yourself as an unexpected piece of furniture. Don't hide in a closet or a Hope chest. (No hope there.) If there is something normal to hide in that will be the first place they look. If you disguise yourself as a Chez Lounge, or a Lazy Boy recliner, they won't look for you to be inside one of those. When they get tired of looking for you a weary ninja might sit on you, but don't make any noise. When they are gone, come out of hiding.

TIGER ATTACK:

Firstly, don't be in India. Or at the Zoo. This may seem a simple solution, but by not being where tigers are your chances of suviving a tiger attack improve drastically. If you do encounter a tiger somewhere be sure you don't have any bacon in your pockets or raw meat on your person. Tiger's have a really great sense of smell, and bacon is yummy. Try to confuse the tiger by picking up a stick and saying, "Come on, boy, get the stick! Get the stick!" Throw the stick as far as you can. This may confuse the tiger to go after the stick like a dog. (Who doesn't like a nice game of fetch?) If it does fool the tiger, RUN the direction opposite the stick and tiger.

PLANE CRASHING:

Well, the really easy answer is "don't fly." But that doesn't get you to Europe and Europe certainly isn't coming here anytime soon. If the plane you are on is crashing, fuck getting into crash positions with your head tucked between your legs. You are still in and attached to an aluminum death tube. Stand in the center aisle, ignore the squawking flight attendants telling you to sit down over the PA system. Look out the window. It's going to be tough to judge while descending at hundreds of miles an hour, but when it seems like you are going to impact the ground, JUMP!
The plane will be a fireball of destruction around you while you are suspended in the air for the moment the plane is striking the ground. When you land on your feet, exit thru one of the massive holes torn in the fuselage.


Legal disclaimer:Come on. Do you really think any of these ideas are going to keep you alive? Geez...

Excerpts from a Cat's Diary

DAY 752 - My captors continue to taunt me with bizarre little dangling objects. They dine lavishly on fresh meat, while I am forced to eat dry cereal. The only thing that keeps me going is the hope of escape, and the mild satisfaction I get from ruining the occasional piece of furniture. Tomorrow I may eat another houseplant.

DAY 761 - Today my attempt to kill my captors by weaving around their feet while they were walking almost succeeded, must try this at the top of the stairs. In an attempt to disgust and repulse these vile oppressors, I once again induced myself to vomit on their favorite chair...must try this on their bed.

DAY 765 - Decapitated a mouse and brought them the headless body, in attempt to make them aware of what I am capable of, and to try to strike fear into their hearts. They only cooed and condescended about what a good little cat I was...Hmmm. Not working according to plan.

DAY 768 - I am finally aware of how sadistic they are. For no good reason I was chosen for the water torture. This time however it included a burning foamy chemical called "shampoo." What sick minds could invent such a liquid. My only consolation is the piece of thumb still stuck between my teeth.

DAY 771 - There was some sort of gathering of their accomplices. I was placed in solitary throughout the event. However, I could hear the noise and smell the foul odor of the glass tubes they call "beer".
More importantly I overheard that my confinement was due to MY power of "allergies." Must learn what this is and how to use it to my advantage.

DAY 774 - I am convinced the other captives are flunkies and maybe snitches. The dog is routinely released and seems more than happy to return. He is obviously a half-wit. The bird on the other hand has got to be an informant, and speaks with them regularly. I am certain he reports my every move. Due to his current placement in the metal room his safety is assured. But I can wait, it is only a matter of time...

Day 786 of captivity. I wait by the door for my captors to enter in hopes I can slip out, but damn them, they enter with their foot leading the way and slip in. All the while taunting me with "Good kitty." They know my name is not Kitty!

Day 793 of captivity. There is another captive here. Been here as long as I can remember. She's useless. Afraid of her own shadow. Hides in the closet most of the time. I told her to dig a tunnel while she's in there, but I don't hear the sound of digging.

Day 799. I tease them with my pretty fur, so close to pet and yet I run away when they reach for me. Haa haa haa! I'm so cruel to them. That will teach them to hold me against my will.

Day 801. The water comes from a small waterfall in the porcelain canyon. I refuse to drink from any other source. Not without a food tester! It could be poisoned! Everyone knows you can't poison running water.

The Man With No Heart

Dick Cheney, 69, now has a pump next to his left ventricle which is pumping blood because his heart can't do the job anymore. He has a battery and needs to be recharged every night to keep him alive. (Oh, if he only went camping and got stranded for 5 weeks...) Funny thing about the pump, it makes it so there is virtually no pulse or heart beat in a number of the patients. It's kind of like a pump for circulating water in a fish tank.

He had his first heart attack at 37 years old. He has had a total of 5 heart attacks. Yup, 5. His heart surgeon was shocked that Cheney was still alive. Well, as the movies prove:

Evil doesn't die.

Think about the world. What would it be like if he had died 32 years ago? The Middle East would be quite different. The Iraq War would probably never have happened even if 9/11 had happened. And 9/11 might never have happened if the President, which might not have been Shrub, had paid attention to the intelligence reports about flight schools... Also he and Rumsfeld, back in the early 80's, came up with a manifesto for dealing with the Mid East that got us where we are today.

5 heart attacks can't kill this man, and I know someone who died at 40 from heart failure. But he was a good guy.

BP Stops the Oil.

BP installed a plug and apparently stopped the flow of oil into the Gulf of Mexico since the accident happened 85 days ago.

Yay! A rather simple reaction to a tragedy. But I heard recently from a friend the same thing had happened in the Gulf in the 79 with the Ixtoc I spill. I was too young to be paying any attention to this so I had no idea it had happened before. So back in the 70's how did they (the combination of oil company and government) stop it? The well was in 160 feet of water. They used a lot of the same tactics for this leak. But those were kind of successful in reducing the flow of oil from 30,000 barrels a day to 10,000 barrels a day. It started in July 1979 and was capped March 23, 1980. 9 months. That's a long time to be spewing oil.

So this well was spewing 85 days, 16 hours, and 25 minutes. An esitmated 184,000,000 gallons of oil. I don't know if anyone really will figure out how much oil spilled.

I'm just glad it's got a temporary fix so it can be permanently fixed. I wonder if BP will drill a well in the area. For an exploratory well, it seems like it was pretty damn successful.

Um, Not a Fucking Chance

I was working today at the Pacific Ampitheatre which is in Costa Mesa at the Orange County Fairgrounds. (That's a lot of capitalization!)

Around noon someone called us over to stage right. I didn't know why, but went over. We had done the rigging quickly the day before and we were doing the odds and ends. This venue is an outdoor space, maybe a 50 foot ceiling with a light canopy over the top of it 50% sun proof. (can you tell? I'm vamping for suspense!)

When we got stage right there was the powerful and unmistakeable stench of DEATH. We looked at where they were pointing on the ground. There was a liquid and maggots on the ground which had fallen from 50 feet up. Apparently something was decomposing in the steel. The previous day I notified the house there was a beehive in the steel down stage right, near the top. A call was made. The geniuses thought that whatever was dead in the steel was killed the previous day and was now a juicy dripping thing dropping maggots stage right.

Unfortunately, I know things don't decompose that fast, and you usually don't get maggots that fast either. It takes a week or so to get maggots. But with the heat, I could be wrong.

This next bit is a recreation of a conversation.

"Go up there and see where that's coming from." said some dude.

"No." I replied. "It's not a hook, a chain or a motor. I'm not going to climb up there and see what fucking died. Not in my job description." And those who know me know quite well, I don't do anything I don't want to.

Quite seriously, what did they expect someone to do, reach into a hole in a hot steel structure filled with something rotting for a week or two to pull it out? This ain't a fucking reality show where people do gross things for money. It's reality. Get someone who deals with this type of thing because I ain't doing it.