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Monday, May 18, 2009

Things That Chap My Ass About The Star Trek Reboot

spoilers are all safely below the fold line


We went to see the new Star Trek movie yesterday.

I hate going to The Movies.

Don’t get me wrong, I love movies.

But I hate movie theaters.

I’d much rather sit in the comfort of my own living room, in my Lazyboy, with my laptop connected to IMDB, in front of my huge HD Plasma screen and watch movies on DVD in surround sound.

Movie theaters suck, so do movie goers.

Movie theaters are a study in how many seats you can pack into a given space, plus ten percent. Movie seats are specially designed - by a descendent of Torquemada himself I suspect – to cut off blood flow to your ass. I mean seriously here, what kind of chair makes your ass fall asleep? How is that even possible? Legs I can understand, but nowhere other than in a movie theater seat does my ass fall asleep. I’ve ridden for hundreds of hours in the back of C-130 cargo planes, strapped into a parachute seat, basically nothing but a metal frame and some nylon – and even that didn’t make my ass fall asleep. It’s done on purpose, so you can’t escape no matter how shitty the movie. Fifteen minutes into Mallrats II, they don’t want to see you at the ticket booth demanding a refund.. And just to make sure, theater operators coat the floor in same glue they put on those strips of fly paper. You’ve got to keep moving your feet or your shoes become permanently affixed to the floor. That’s why at the end of Battlefield Earth you saw shoeless people belly crawling up the aisles on their forearms dragging their numbed hindquarters and shrieking Travolta’s name like a curse.

What they ought to do is redesign the seats so that your arms fall asleep instead of your ass. Seriously, that way it would be completely impossible to operate a cell phone during the movie. Who the hell are these dolts? They pay $12.50 a ticket and the minute they sit down they’re on the phone. Who are they talking to anyway? The 911 operator? Help! I’m trapped in the dark, my ass is asleep and my shoes are stuck to the floor!

The theater announces before the movie “the rearmost row is reserved for handicapped people and people in wheelchairs.” Screw the handicapped, let ‘em suffer with the rest of us. Reserve the rear row for tall people, that’s what I’m saying. What the hell is it with tall people anyway? They know they’re tall, don’t they? I mean, you look down and all you see are the tops of other people’s heads, you gotta know, right? And where do the gangly bastards sit? Yeah, exactly. Tall people are assholes. That’s why I bring a peashooter with me to the movies, if I can’t enjoy the flick tall people aren’t going to either. One way or the other, I’m getting $12.50’s worth of entertainment.

Two bottles of water and a small popcorn? $13.00 dollars. I’ve got to tell you, I was looking forward to that water, for the price I figured it had to be magic water. Maybe it would make me tall enough to see over the NBA Defense in front of me, or pump extra oxygen to my butt cheeks, or generate a cell phone blocking electromagnetic field. Or, what would be really useful, maybe it would gift me with clairvoyance and give me the power to guess which upcoming scenes would be slow and boring so that I could choose the best time to go take a piss. No such luck, it wouldn’t even dissolve the glue holding my shoes to the floor. Looks like I spent $4.50 each on just plain old water. Next time I’ll get the $6.00 spring water. Don’t get me started on the popcorn.

But, I digress.

Let’s talk about Star Trek.

As I mentioned yesterday, a reboot of the series is the only way you’d get me into the theater to see a Star Trek movie.

I’ve said elsewhere, it is my considered opinion that once you start calling something a “franchise,” the quality declines rapidly. Nowhere is this more true than Star Trek and all of its finite variations. The episodes of the original series, way back in the sixties, were concepts new to the general public, hell most of it was new to scifi fans. Everything about the show, from its multiethnic cast, to story lines, science fiction on TV itself, was new. It was weird, and ahead of its time, and original.

By the eighties though, the blush was mostly off the rose. A lot of scifi had come and gone since the original series. Cardboard sets and salt shaker props weren’t going to cut it. The Next Generation started out with the same basic characters, just in different bodies and positions. The writers recycled and repackaged nearly every episode of the original series – but mostly, at least at first, they did it the same way you lovingly retell the same old joke that everybody has heard a dozen times and, yet, you still get the laughs. Next Generation was going to be a hit, no matter what they did. We’d been waiting for it for twenty years, we loved it even if it did have Wesley Crusher at the helm (sorry, Wil, you know we love you). Maybe too much. We wanted more. Deep Space 9 did its best to be original, and so did Voyager, but the truth of the matter is that both shows - and the horribly boring Enterprise – were mostly just more of the same. Same characters, same stories, same plots, same conflict, same same same. There was the time travel episode, you know, the one where they all end up on Earth in the present day. There was the holodeck malfunction episode and the evil alternate universe episode. There was the robot malfunction episode. There was the rift in the space time continuum episode. There was the trial episode and that one where the captain is on a diplomatic mission and the one were the Bad Guys show up and the one were Worf gets a Klingon pimple or the Vulcan goes into heat.

And there were the movies. The first one (hell I don’t even recall its name at this point) was watchable, but Wrath of Khan is, of course, the holy grail of Trek movies. The Voyage Home had its moments – but it was the time travel episode all over again. And after that things went down hill fast. Things started to get ridiculous and had hit truly ludicrous speed by the time Undiscovered Country came along. First Contact was pretty good though, and I thought maybe the series would revive (Hey, even the Bond franchise had Moonraker). But by the time they got around to Generations, I was long past caring.

The same people had been writing the same characters for so damned long that any spark of originality was long, long cold.

Now, I realize that at this point, diehard Trekkies (those that bought the boxed HD director’s cuts of the Enterprise series for example) are spitting and foaming, but the simple truth of the matter is that Gene Roddenberry’s vision of the future was just too damned limited. He had this nice tidy little 1960’s “Wagon Train to the Stars” thing going on, every once in a while they rearrange the furniture in Trekverse, but the basic concept never changed – and whether they want to admit it or not, even those 40 year-old guys who wear collector's edition Star Trek Underoos (and you know who you are) were getting bored.

The problem is that Trekkies are a huge, huge market. There is no way the owners of the Trek franchise are going to let those dollars (and Euros and Yen) slip away. They needed another movie. Do it right, and you’ve got a guaranteed blockbuster, do it wrong and you’ve got Insurrection. Do it right and you’ve got a whole new series, do it wrong and you’ve got Enterprise. Do it right and you create a whole new generation of fans, do it wrong and you’ve got New Coke.

There’s only one way to do it right, and that’s to reboot.

Now, there are two types of reboot, soft and hard.

A hard reboot is what happened with Battlestar Galactica – i.e. a complete reset.

A soft reboot is where you keep the basic characters and storyline and change just enough that you can break out of the corner you’ve been painted into.

J. J. Abrams softbooted Star Trek.

And he did a hell of a job.

Sure, as a number of folks have noted, there are some plot holes big enough to drive a Romulan mining ship through. And Trek tech is still Trek tech, white and pristine and beautiful like the extruded plastic dinner trays in 2001 A Space Odyssey – and the science is utterly ridiculous. And, as always, one shouldn’t look too closely at the back story least you see it for the cardboard cutout that it is.

But overall, Star Trek, is a blast and well worth the price of admission.

I enjoyed every minute of it. The cast is uniformly excellent. The little sight gags and hidden tributes to the Trek-that-was are fun without being gratuitous. The plot is tightly wound and the story, if predictable, moves right along. The special effects are some of the best I’ve ever seen – this is how CGI should be done. And the break with traditional trek canon is explained logically (Trek logic, but still) and the explanation is within canon, then Abrams moves past it and doesn’t bother with it again neither dwelling on it, or apologizing for it.

A word of advice, if you haven’t seen it yet. Stay for the end credits. The background images are stunning.

I loved this version of Star Trek much better than the original, and I hope we see more of it.


Spoilers below this line


I wouldn’t be me if I didn’t mention a couple of things that just chapped my ass about this movie.

- Star Fleet. Seriously folks, even for a fictional outfit, this is one fucked up service. Kirk is what? Twenty maybe. A cadet? And he gets promoted to Captain and given his own major command and sent off to explore the universe? Riiiiiight. All those Ensigns and Lieutenants and Commanders who’ve been working their way up the promotion ladder for the last fifteen years aren’t going to be the least resentful? They follow him willingly. Yeah, how hosed up would they have to be? Only in Trekverse. (Of course, this may explain why Star Fleet keeps making really, really, really lousy strategic and tactical decisions – you know, like jumping your whole damned fleet straight into the danger zone without maybe sending a scout first).

- Starship Captain. Really, how tough could this job be? If any inexperienced twenty year old kid can do it? Well, any twenty year old kid with an arrest record that is.

- Red Matter. Others have noted it. But it is so damned stupid even for Trek Science that I’ve just got to throw my two cents in. How’s this shit work? A drop of red matter makes black holes. Just a drop. A single drop. A drop injected into a planet’s core creates a black hole that grows so rapidly in size that it consumes the entire planet in minutes? But a mass the size of a VW bus has no gravitational effects on the ship holding it, or the vulcan standing two feet from it? Or the plexiglass of its containment. (Seriously, given the demonstrated results, even a drop of this stuff should be enough to produce enormous tidal strain and gravitational effects at short range, a drop of it is a black hole – it would have to be by definition). And given that, why would you have to inject it into a planet’s core? Just drop it anywhere in the gravity well. (mmmm, one wonders if it requires the intense heat and pressure of a planetary core to … oh, nevermind. Now, I’m starting to sound like Geordie).

- The Drill. I loved the orbital drill scenes. I did. But two things bugged me. 1) What happened to the drill-head’s orbital velocity? I.e. its angular momentum? 2) What keeps the hole open long enough for the Red Matter to reach the planet’s core? If I have to explain either of those questions to you, you wouldn’t understand the problem – but here think about this, what altitude is this thing at? Because the atmosphere is dense enough for Kirk and Sulu to breath and fight normally. It’s stationary over one point on the planet’s surface, which means the supporting ship is either in geostationary orbit (roughly 22000 mile out for an Earth mass body) or it’s in a powered orbit. But if it’s in a powered orbit what holds the drill head stable and tensions the cable? Arrgh. Sorry, but the physics are making me itch. See if the drill is under thrust, how do Kirk, Sulu, and their enemies remain standing on the platform? See? See?

- The Supernova. Make a black hole to contain the blast of a supernova. Make a black hole. To contain a supernova. A super nova. Super nova. And making a black hole to contain a supernova is so easy that one old feeble vulcan in a ship by himself can do it. Yay. But, um, he can’t beat the Romulans?

Look, I write Scifi. I’m all about the suspension of disbelief – but, man, seriously, I felt my brain wobble close to a credibility implosion a couple of times.

Still, I enjoyed it.

Sunday, May 17, 2009

Today is the Day

...that I finally go see the new Star Trek movie.

I've deliberately avoided reading basically anything about this flick - so I'm going without any expectations at all.

Prior to its release I heard a number of fans pissing and moaning about the franchise "reboot." Frankly, a reboot of the series is about the only thing that would get me to pay money to see it. The last few Trek movies, and basically any flavor of Trek series since Next Generation, have been so lamely recycled that it was like watching Zombie Roddenberry shambling along dropping body parts.

So, I'm looking forward to a complete reboot.

Well, that and going to the theater is about the only time I'm allowed to have Junior Mints.

Back in a while.

Friday, May 15, 2009

From the Spam Folder

Let’s start with a letter, shall we?

Greetings to you from Our Lord Jesus.

Well, how about that? The Savior Himself. Howdy, Jesus, what’s shakin in zombieland?

I know this will sound like a scam to you but I was the head of the fund release department of the biggest churches built for God in France called “Église Catholique en France” In the year 1901, they started offering collection for the Sole aim of human growth, educational and Community development. In collaboration with the UN and the EU, We gave out an annual donation of US$550,000.00 each to 100 lucky recipients each year, undermining your religion.

A scam? No. Not at all. Not at all. I mean, You’re Jesus, right? Say, wasn’t “Undermining your religion” an REM song? Can you get me Michael Stipe’s autograph?

I have been waiting for you since to contact me for your Confirm able Bank ATM cash card of US$550,000.00 United States Dollars, since that will be very easy for you to cash in your country, but I did not hear from you since that time. So after the World sole aim of human growth meeting heard in West Africa, I heard to deposited donation parcel with FedEx Courier Service in West Africa enable them deliver your parcel to you anywhere you are since both the BBC UK and The CNN World news announced the name of the name of the 100 lucky donation recipients.

Well, shit, Jesus, I did contact you. Just this morning, in fact, I hit my thumb with a hammer out the shop and shouted your name. Check your inbox, there’s probably like a dozen messages from me.

I traveled out of the country for a 4 Months Course and I will not come back till end of July 2009…

Jesus is taking a course? Can you imagine having Him in your biology class? Hey, Your Holiness, how’s about giving somebody else a chance to answer the evolution questions, huh? Thanks for wrecking the grade curve, Jackass.

…so i will not be able to check my mail because I just received a call from the FedEx Courier service in West Africa that you have not yet contacted them since for the delivery of your parcel to you. What you have to do now is to contact the FedEx Courier Service Located in West Africa as soon as possible to know when they will deliver your package to you because the more it stay in there office, the more your international shipment security fee on your parcel increases. For your information, you will need to pay for the international shipment security charge of the parcel because it has been in there office for over 2-3 months now.

Jesus uses FedEx? When you absolutely, positively need to kill every first born son in Egypt overnight, FedEx!

The only money you will send to the FedEx Courier Service in West Africa to deliver your parcel direct to your postal Address in your country is ($90.00 USD) only being international shipment security charge of the Courier Company so far. Again, don't be deceived by anybody to pay any other money except $90.00 USD Dollars.

Yeah, yeah, I got it. Thou salt have no other gods before me. Got it. Cripes, next he’ll be going on about my neighbor’s ass. I hate when he gets all Old Testament and shit.

I would have paid that but…

Yeah, yeah, you’re a little hard up for cash this week. (Seriously, never go drinking with Jesus. Last time he tagged along with us, the bastard took the last slice of pizza and stiffed us on the tab. Water to wine my ass, he drank a dozen Harvey Wallbangers at $4.50 apiece and spent the rest of the night face down in the shitter, parting the Red Sea so to speak, and moaning "why hast thou forsaken me?" over and over).

They said no because they don't know when you will contact them and in case of demur rage.

Demur Rage! Me? Not me, Jesus, I swear. I’m turning the other cheek right now. Look, see?

Finally, make sure that you reconfirm your Postal address; Direct telephone number; Do send it to them again to avoid any mistake on the delivery and ask them to give you the tracking number to enable you track your package online to know when it will get to your address. Let me repeat again, try to contact them as soon as you receive this mail to avoid any further delay and remember to pay them their international shipment security charge of $90.00 US Dollars for their immediate action.

Why can’t you just give them my address, Your Omnipotence? I mean you’re Jesus, right. Robes, beard, fishes, loaves, levitation, crown-o-thorns? Surely FedEx would take your word for it? I mean, fuck, Jesus, if they don’t believe you, why would they believe me?

Your in God, Jesus.

That’s it? What about the pony I asked for when I was eight? Hello? Hello?

Well,that’s just typical.

________________________________________________________________


- A real man consists of manliness, stamina, endurance, and power.

And snips and snails and puppy dog tails!


- If your whole life is shit, at least you can have a decent watch on.

Say, Bob, how’s life? Shitty, thanks for reminding me. Nice watch. Up yours.


- From now you will be able to please each size queen

I, uh, think you might have me confused with somebody else.


- We will take excellent care of your body and soul

Another message from Jesus, no doubt. That guy is nothing if not persistent.


- Show your girlfriend that there can be a lot of flame your bed

Holy shit! What happened to you? Did you fall asleep while smoking again?

I think this was an ad for fire extinguishers.


- Even CEO’s consult us

Well, that certainly explains Chrysler and GM, now doesn’t it?


- Have a look here and you will feel like less of a man

You really have to wonder who clicks on a link like that, because, you know, somebody does. Who is that guy? I bet he’s wearing a fake Submariner watch.


- Women always ready to sleep with men who look rich

How do you explain Donny Trump then? The guy is rich, but he looks like a hobo on a Sterno bender – and women compete on TV to sleep with him. So do men.


- Your golden watch has a golden heart that is still beating

Well that’s just creepy. I think this was the plot of one of the Chucky movies.


- Women will be standing behind your door just to touch your submariner watch

Damnit, looks like I’ll need to get another restraining order.


- Men love skinny girls

And pie. Skinny girls and pie and I’m a happy man.


- Your hook will be the best hook of all the hooks in the world

Who’s this for? Blackbeard?


- With your big horse you can insert him even into the Statue of Liberty

The Statue of Liberty is anatomically correct? Those French, what jokers. And last time I was there, security wouldn’t even let you bring a bottle of water inside…


- Taste the sweetness of a rich looking person

Nine out of ten cannibals say they prefer Rich Bastards for their sweet smokey flavor.


- Free Penis Trial!

You come here often? How’d you like take my little friend out for a test drive? It’s free!


- Your member will grow as big as an oak

Unfortunately the rest of your package will shrink to the size of acorns. Remember, read the fine print.


- Your big proud friend in the pants will overshadow the Empire State Building

Bad lighting. Lousy dialog. Amateur camera work. Bunch of unknown actors. I knew it, Cloverfield was a porno


- She will want you right in the public bathroom of your choice

Dude. Public bathroom? There isn’t enough Lysol in the world. Hell I don’t even touch the soap dispenser. No. Just…no.


- Penis Enlargement now right at your door step!

That’s bound to get you talked about at the next Homeowner’s Association meeting. I mean they threatened to sue when your petunias had more than the approved number of petals, I suspect they’re not going to be real gung ho over this.


- Today you’ll revel in the ancient secret! Use it carefully!

Remember that Saturday morning TV show, Shazam! You know, young Billy and his “mentor” drive around the country in a Winnebago, avoiding the law and hiding out in crappy campgrounds. Every once in a while, Billy yells Shazam! and turns into “Captain Marvel,” a buff hunk in red spandex. Hey, I’m not implying anything here, but I found that show a little creepy.


- Viagra! It’s the place where all your dreams come true!

As I recall, that phrase usually follows “Neverland Ranch.”


- Will do it for money

I know girls who’ll do it for pudding.


- Women will jump in your bed like crazy rabbits!

How convenient because see…

- You’ll Perform like a real strong lion in bed.

It’s like we were made for each other. Pass the ketchup.


- Prince Charles Proves Gayness!

I’m not surprised. I mean, you ever see that guy swing a polo mallet?


- How customers are like lab rats!

Oops! Looks like an internal Microsoft memo escaped into the world. Pretend like you didn’t see this.


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Whoosh! and the Spam folder is clear once again.

Previous Spam Folder Fodder: Part 1 and Part 2



Microsoft Math

Rounded to the nearest zero.

Updates

Yep, that’s an actual screen shot from my Vista system this morning. One wonders if NASA uses Microsoft math for programming the trajectories of its planetary probes – because it would certainly explain what happened to the Mars Climate Orbiter which was supposed to orbit Mars at an altitude of something like a hundred miles, and ended up at an altitude of, uh, zero feet.

Maybe the Treasury Department should take a look at this.

Zero national debt.

Thanks, Microsoft.

A Note About Caffeine

I need it.

I need it right now.

If I had a twitter feed, I'd probably spend the day typing "I need REAL coffee!" over and over and over. I suspect nobody in the Twitterverse needs that.

Three weeks ago I swore off caffeine.

Caffeine aggravates heartburn. I hate heartburn. Heartburn friggin' hurts. I've had to change my diet or suffer the consequences. I don't like the consequences.

My wife can't have caffeine either. So she normally drinks decaf coffee and has for a long time. Three weeks ago we stopped buying both decaf for her and regular for me and just went with the decaf. It's Folgers, so I don't notice a difference in flavor - though I do think it smells just a little different when it's brewing, not as good.

I drink a lot of coffee. I have for years. I was in the Navy, where we'd sooner do without food and oxygen than coffee and caffeine.

But I just can't do that any more.

The withdrawal symptoms have been unpleasant: lack of alertness, headaches, and I had a hard time concentrating for the first week. People noticed. I left a few online comments in various places that looked a lot like they'd been typed by a monkey with a head wound and decided I'd probably better not comment much anywhere for a while. I seemed to be past it though, now, mostly. However, this morning it's cold and raining and dreary and I hurt all over. I've got a pounding headache and I feel like some invisible force is squeezing my eyeballs in a iron fist.

Decaf just is NOT cutting it this morning, Kids.

I feel like a strung out heroin junkie. I caught myself rummaging through the cupboards hoping maybe, just maybe, I'd find a forgotten stash of Kona beans or some Blue Mountain Dark Roast behind the flour and olive oil. Hell, at this point I would settle for a two day old cup of endlessly boiled Navy midwatch sludge or whatever fell out of the back end of Juan Valdez's burro. No such luck.

I'm going to go take a boiling hot shower and a couple caffeine-free Excedrin and see if that helps.

Back in a bit.

Thursday, May 14, 2009

Projects, Projects

 

You might have noticed, I’ve been a little light on the posting for the last couple of days.

OK, for the last two weeks.

Yeah, yeah.

Well, see I’m busy. 

Summer’s here and we’ve got a million things to do before the snow flies again.

For example, here’s ShopKat engaged in a project that takes up a significant fraction of her day:

image

Notice the object of her attention in the detailed blow up.  That squirrel is an asshole.

You’ll also notice how green it’s gotten in just the last three or four days.  Four weeks ago I was shoveling snow off the porch, today I have to mow the grass.  See why we don’t observe spring in Alaska?

I have to rewrite some paperwork, including my resume, for a job I’m considering.  It would be a stint with the military on a project that I am uniquely qualified for.  I may tell you more about it later.

And finally today I have to finish a pile of Amish Style Baskets. Argh! I hate these things.  You remember the spiral cut baskets I mentioned a while back right?  These are similar, but cut into the shape of an Alaskan King Salmon.

image

See the finished one in the middle of the picture?  It’s sitting on top of a pile of oak blanks. Those blanks get cut into the shapes you see in the foreground.  In order to cut out the middle on the band saw I cut through the edge there, just behind the lower rear (or caudal) fin. Once the inside piece is cut out, I glue the outer frame back together – hence the rubber bands holding the pieces in place until the glue dries.  All the pieces are sanded and the edges are rounded over on the shaper table. Then the inside piece is cut into a spiral using the band saw, and the resulting basket is attached to the inside of the fish shaped frame with pivot screws – and those are an enormous pain to position correctly.  However, the end product is pretty cool.

In the back right of the above photo you can see stacks of plant hangers. These started out as eight foot planks of rough sawn birch. I run them through the planer which smoothes the boards and makes them all the same thickness.  Then the lumber is ripped into 3” wide stripes on the tablesaw.  You can see four alternating notches down the side of each piece, those hold 6” terracotta planting pots.  Because the pot holders have to be cut very precisely, I cut the notches with an industrial scroll saw. Then the edges are rounded over on the woodpecker table and a hole is drilled in the top to hold a loop of twine.  I make roughly a hundred of these in a day. 

I did manage to finish one my signature sled dog bowls this week, which makes me happy.

image 

This piece is turned from green Alaska birch heartwood. Then carved and sculpted, and allowed to dry slowly for several months.  I then carve a dog team and musher from birch burl and attach it to the bowl with glue. The whole thing is finished in Danish oil and hard glossy varathane.  This piece is sold.

And as I mentioned to Beastly in yesterday’s post, I have one of the Shopsmiths torn apart.  The bearing on the control sheave started squealing yesterday in the middle of making salmon baskets.  Squealing bearings are bad.  I shut everything down and disassembled the machine for maintenance.  I need to go finish that and get the machine back together so I can finish up the rest of this week’s projects.

So, if you need me, Internet people, I’ll probably be in the shop for the rest of the day.

Wednesday, May 13, 2009

The Secret to Success and Universal Happiness

It’s buttermilk.

There’s really nothing it can’t do.

Well, there you go, the secret to success and universal happiness. Make sure they spell my name right on the Nobel Prize.

Thanks for coming and drive safely.




What?

You’re still here?

I see, I have to spell it out for you.

Fine.

Historically buttermilk is the thin tart, tangy liquid left over from churning cream into butter – and today that liquid is referred to as traditional buttermilk – as opposed to, say, whey, which is the liquid left over from making cheese. Traditional buttermilk is not common in the West these days (though it is still very common in places like India where it is called “chaas”). Here it’s mostly used as a supplement for animal feed, or as a starter and additive for certain food products. You’d have to go to a working dairy to obtain it. In the old days buttermilk was often fed to the pigs, used to start bread, or consumed by the poor – and in the latter case often made up a significant fraction of their daily calorie and vitamin intake. Prior to the Gorta Mor (the Great Famine or the Irish Potato Blight in 1840’s Ireland), many poor Irish lived almost exclusively on the “peasant foods” of potatoes and buttermilk – and were some of the healthiest people in Europe as a result.

Nowadays, the buttermilk you buy in your local supermarket is almost always cultured buttermilk – and has nothing whatsoever to do with butter making. It is a fermented diary product made by adding lactic acid producing bacteria (Streptococcus lactis) to milk. There are several variations, including Bulgarian buttermilk, made in a similar fashion but using lactobacillus bulgaricus, which produces a much more sour product. Where traditional buttermilk is thin (though usually thicker than plain milk), cultured buttermilk is thick and creamy, more like like heavy whipping cream than its namesake and smells like really, really good sour cream.

Whether traditional or cultured, buttermilk is a tart and tangy. That sourness comes from high amounts of acid produced during fermentation, when the milk’s lactose is converted from a sugar into an acid by the bacteria. As a result of this process (either naturally fermented traditional buttermilk, or artificially diary-cultured), buttermilk itself is much lower in fat and calories than regular whole milk and cream. It is high in potassium, vitamin B12, and calcium. It is more easily digested than whole milk due to the bacteria (similar to yogurt) and allows for better absorption of protein and calcium.

Basically it’s good stuff.

I like to drink it ice cold – but where it really makes a difference is in cooking.

Not sure you’d like it? Start with something simple, use cultured buttermilk instead of butter and milk (heh, heh) or cream the next time you make mashed potatoes. It adds enough fat to the starchy potatoes to make them creamy and smooth, but without the huge load of fats that butter and cream do – and it adds a tangy sour cream flavor, without the added fat of sour cream. Cool, huh?

Making Beef Stroganoff? Use buttermilk instead of sour cream. Better flavor, much less fat. (Bulgarian buttermilk is perfect for this dish, very tangy).

A while back I gave you a buttermilk/oatmeal pancake recipe – still the best pancake recipe I’ve got.

Last night I made deep fried Alaskan Halibut. Now, traditionally, here in Alaskan you batter the hell out of halibut. Most Alaskans dunk chunks of halibut into a thick glop made from cheap beer and flour, and then deep fry the resulting mess into soggy balls of dough that bleed grease like Ronald Reagan’s hairdo. Deep fried halibut chunks are a staple in every restaurant, tourist dive, roadhouse, flophouse, and outhouse in Alaska. With few exceptions (such as the Whitespot Cafe on 4th in Anchorage) beer battered halibut chunks are an abomination. Here’s a better method – and this works with any thick fleshed white fish, such as cod – cut the fish into small bite sized pieces. Coat those in cultured buttermilk and then dredge in a mixture of flour, yellow cornmeal, Cajun seasoning or Old Bay, powdered garlic, powdered onion, and some fresh ground pepper. Shake off the excess and let sit for a couple of minutes, until the cornmeal softens and the coating becomes damp. Deep fry in 350 degree oil until lightly browned. Remove from oil, drain on paper towels, keep warm in a 250F degree oven. They won’t get soggy, and they won’t be oily or greasy, and they’ll taste better than any halibut chunks you’ve ever had.

Now that you’ve got some halibut chunks, you need some hushpuppies to go with them – and that fishy flavored deep fryer oil is the perfect thing for making them. While your fish chunks are keeping warm in the oven whip up the following recipe:

Mix together 1 3/4 cups yellow cornmeal, 3/4 unbleached AP flour, 1/2 tsp salt, 1/2 tsp baking soda, 1/2 tsp fresh ground black pepper, 1 tbls onion powder, and 1 tbls of Old Bay seasoning. In a separate bowl mix together 1 cup cultured buttermilk, 1 large egg, 1/2 cup of finely chopped green onions (I run mine through my KitchenAid food grinder to get pureed mush, and a 1/4 cup of coarsely chopped chives (the green onion stalk), and 2 tbls of chopped fresh garlic (the pre-chopped stuff in a jar is just fine). Add the liquid ingredients to the dry and mix only until a thick dough forms. Don’t over mix, lumps are good. Say it with me, lumps are good. Let the dough stand for fifteen minutes while the cornmeal softens. Now the secret is to make small hushpuppies. Small. You’re not making donuts here. Take a regular metal table spoon (the kind you use to stir your coffee, not the measuring device), dip it in the hot grease first, then scoop a half spoon sized portion of dough and carefully drop it into the 350F degree oil. Do a couple, but no more than six or eight. Don’t crowd the fryer. Keep the oil temp no higher than 350. Be patient. Wait until the dough puffs up into full globes and the portions in the oil have turned golden brown, then bump each one with your spoon and they’ll turn over all by themselves. Fry for a minute or until the entire hushpuppy is golden brown. Remove from the oil, drain on paper towels, then put them in the oven with the halibut chunks until you’ve got the whole batch done. Don’t rush. Don’t crowd. Don’t raise the oil temperature or they will burn on the outside and the inside will be raw. Don’t do it.

I suppose you’ll be wanting desert too?

OK, how about buttermilk banana bread?

Mix together 2 large eggs, 1 cup sugar, 1/4 cup vegetable oil, 1 cup (2 to 3) very ripe bananas, 2 tsp vanilla extract (use the real stuff for crying out loud you cheap bastard). Beat until creamy, about two minutes in a stand mixer using the whisk. In a separate bowl mix together 1 tsp baking soda, 1 tsp baking powder, 1 tsp salt, 1 tsp cinnamon, 1/2 tsp nutmeg, 2 2/3 cups AP flour – mix this thoroughly, I use a hand whisk, it’s important that all the dry ingredients are completely mixed. Completely. Add the dry ingredient into the wet ingredients all at once, mix until just dampened (in a stand mixer use the paddle). Add 1 cup cultured buttermilk (or plain yogurt), and 1 cup chopped walnuts. Mix completely. Don’t over mix, you’re not making French bread or pizza dough here. Over mix and the loaf will be tough. Pour into a 9x5 loaf pan and bake in a pre-heated 350 degree oven for 1 hour (usually a little longer, this morning’s loaf for example took 1 hour and 20 minutes before the test stick came back clean. If the loaf top is getting too dark, tent with foil). Remove from oven, let cool on a wire rack. Top with cream cheese frosting and chopped candied pralines (oh please, you’ve already put in a cup of sugar, you might as well go all the way – besides, it’s made with buttermilk so it’s healthy anyway. See? Stick with me, Kids).

Buttermilk

Trust me on this. Buttermilk. Secret to the universe.

You’re welcome.

Perception

Perceived IQ Based On Which Version Of Jeopardy I Am Watching
see more Funny Graphs

Tuesday, May 12, 2009

Things that Chap My Ass About Craigslist

I’m a Craigslist junkie.

I mostly peruse the “Tools” section, but I do occasionally look in other categories.

Craigslist is my first avenue when I’m looking for something, especially tools, especially quality tools. I have a list of things I’m looking for and I check the local listings every day, sometimes two or three times a day.

See nowadays most tools, especially large stationary woodworking tools are crap. Take Sears Craftsman for example – from the 1950’s through the early 1980’s, Craftsman was a name synonymous with affordable quality – with the best warranty in the business. When it came to tools, the Craftsman brand name was one of the true American indicators of superior quality. Hell, fifteen years ago my dad gave me a couple of Craftsman power drills that he had bought in the 1960’s, and they not only still work, but work as well or better than any high quality tool you can buy today. I still use them. But somewhere in the mid 1980’s, the genius MBA’s running Sears decided that they could sell over-priced cheap plastic crap while trading on their brand name and nobody would notice. They also got rid of their warranties, because really, who guarantees cheap plastic crap made in China? Twenty years later and you can’t find a woodworker worth his tape measure shopping for tools at Sears, because, see we did notice the complete degradation of quality – and if you do see actual woodworkers shopping in Sears, they’re buying the Dewalt or Porter-Cable brands Sears was forced to carry after their own signature line of tools went completely to shit.

But see, you can still find those old vintage Craftsman tools out there. And vintage Dewalt, Milwaukee, Powermatic, Shopsmith, Jet, and Rockwell machines. Cast Iron behemoths, covered in dust and cobwebs and rusting away in somebody’s garage or backyard shed. You can usually acquire these tools for some small fraction of their worth and with some elbow grease and a bit of mechanical inclination, a little innovation, some oil, some paint, and a few dollars you can usually refurbish them to their original functionality. I own a large number of old machines, some more than 40 years old, that I acquired through Craigslist for a pittance. Restored, those machines perform better than nearly anything made today and are worth thousands.

I also own a number of newer high quality tools that I got amazing deals on – frankly I love scorned women in the middle of a nasty divorce, they’ll practically give you a Foredom Rotary Tool worth several hundred dollars just to stick it to their soon to be asshole ex-husband. Word of advice men, don’t leave your tools with the woman you screwed around on. Unless you want me to own them, that is. And thank you, by the way.

But for all the deals I find on Craigslist that just make my day, there are certain things that irritate the hell out of me. So as a public service here’s a few guidelines should you decide to use this service:

- It’s “Hydraulic.” You spell it H. Y. D. R. A. U. L. I. C. Hydraulic. Not hydrolic. Not hidralic. Not hydrallic. Hydraulic. And since we’re on the subject of spelling, they’ve got spell checkers on computers now, use them. Or buy a dictionary, they sell ‘em on Craigslist cheap. Nothing irks me more than trying to puzzle out what the hell you’re listing because you spell like a fucking monkey with a head injury.

- Make me an offer. What the hell is this nonsense? If you want to run an auction, then list your item on eBay. Quit wasting my time, don’t make me guess what you want for it. In case you haven’t noticed, there are forty other listings for similar items and by definition you’ve got an internet connection, take fifteen minutes to figure out the median going price. Make me an offer, fuck you, give me a price, Jerkoff. We can dicker from there.

- And speaking of price, Dude, you don’t seriously expect to get double the actual value of the item when it was new, do you? Listen, Sparky, when I can buy it new, including Shipping and Handling, for less than I can get it used from you – it’s a pretty good bet than I’m not going to call you. It’s also a pretty good bet that if you’ve listed your item every day for the last month and nobody has made you an offer, you’re asking too much. If I want to get screwed on price, I’ll go to Sears.

- Wanted to Buy. Do us all a favor, would you Mr. Stupid Lazy Ass? Take a look at the listings first. I have yet to see a WTB listing that isn’t within three entries of that exact item.

- Save your sob story for somebody who gives a shit, or sell it on Craigslist to C&W song writers. I don’t want to hear how you’ve lost your job because of Obama, your wife left you for a one legged marine, the dog got runned over by a damned ol’ train, and little Bobby-Joebob needs a liver transplant because of her drinking problem and the hepatitis-C infection she picked up in Cancun last year . List your item and tell me what you want for it. If I want to listen to soap operas, I’ll watch the Lifetime Channel movie of the week.

- Specifications. For the love of little green apples, list the goddamned specifications. Look I can understand if you’re selling a fucking toaster or your virginity, but tools are a different ballgame, Dipshit. Electerical Moter, $150 OBO or traid, make me an offer tells me exactly dick (well, that’s not true, it does tell me that you’re an idiot). Single or dual phase? Shaft horsepower? Amps? Max load? Shaft dimensions? Mount type? Use some common sense will you please? You list a socket set you might want to mention whether it’s metric or ISO Standard, just a suggestion here is all. Oh, and a blurry picture of the specification plate doesn’t cut it.

- Which takes us to pictures. Who doesn’t own a digital camera nowadays? OK, sure, you sold yours on Craigslist last week so you could pay off your Bookie and the local meth dealer, got it, but surely you know somebody who has one? Hell, your kid is mailing around naked pictures of herself using her camera phone, ask her if you can borrow it for a couple of minutes (the phone, not the pictures). Seriously here, it would be a whole lot easier for me to figure out that big old rocky radical saw is actually a cast iron 14” Rockwell Radial-arm Saw if you include a picture. And, really, is it too damned much to ask that the picture be in focus, of reasonable resolution, taken in reasonable light, orientated upright on your ad page, and that before you take the picture you move the boxes and baskets and garbage cans and all the other shit sitting on top of, in front of, or otherwise obscuring the object you're listing? Oh, and one more thing, if you’re taking pictures of something shiny, please, please, please put on some fucking clothes – I cannot emphasize how much I don’t want to catch a refection of your hairy dangling bag-O-marbles in the chromed power cover of the scroll saw you’ve got listed. And really, who does this? Silly sick bastards, that’s who. Sick silly stupid bastards, because seriously here dumbass, you’re listing your contact information. Think about it.

Thank you.

Now, if you excuse me, I need to check the listings.


What chaps your ass about online sales sites?

Monday, May 11, 2009

Please, Stand By

Blogger is apparently suffering some kind of bizarre seizure.

Strange things are happening in blogger land, especially with posts that contain embedding and link through. YouTube videos are not displaying, and some pictures have gone missing leaving only links behind. There are different errors depending on what browser you're using. Firefox seems most affected, Google Chrome however seems to load everything - but is running hideously slow. IE? Well, who gives a crap what IE is doing, seriously who uses it anyway?

I can't upload today's post from my blog editor either, and there isn't any way in hell that I'm going to retype it into Blogger's native editor. Screw that (and it doesn't cut 'n paste worth a crap either, the fonts and formatting go all wonky). Sigh.

It's Monday, can you tell?

I've got to run some errands in town, hopefully Blogger will have itself squared away before I get back. Otherwise I may have to unleash the velociraptors.

The Joys of Parenthood

It's 3:30AM.

I'm awake. Sort of.

No, I don't have insomnia. Far, far from it. I was having absolutely no problem sleeping before my alarm went off.

Right now I'm sitting here waiting for the coffee to brew and I'm awake (sort of) because I have to get my son to school in about 45 minutes.

Why?

Well, see he plays the trombone. He's in the jazz band. The jazz band is off on a trip to Seward this morning and they've got to leave early in order to catch the train out of the Anchorage station. He going to be gone for two days and not back until around midnight tomorrow.

Now in theory this sounds like a great idea. Two days of peace and quiet for his mother and I.

At 3:30 in the morning though, I admit that the idea seems a little less than great.

Coffee's ready. Yay.

Sunday, May 10, 2009

M is for Mudflaps

Mother's Day.

My son and I got up early this morning so we could put out the cards and flowers. I made ham and cheddar quiche, my wife's favorite.

And now, for a little mother-related music.




Happy Mother's Day, you rednecked mothers!

Feeling a Little Horse



Seattle artist Kim Graham says her Digigrade Leg Extensions "give a person the uncanny and graceful appearance of an animal."

The leg extensions are made from steel, foam, plastic and cables. They add fourteen inches in height to the wearer - assuming that the wearer can actually stand or walk on the damn things. Graham says it takes about fifteen minutes of practice to lean how to use the extensions and that they work best on level surfaces. Uneven surfaces and inclines, not so much - and you should probably avoid stairs, and galloping.

The leg extensions are made by hand and have to be custom-fitted, and they're not cheap, $750-$800 for the basic unit, $1000 with the optional spring-loaded hooves, more if you opt for the fur-enhanced covering - but, hey, a true Cosplay Furry would say damn the expense, I gotta get me some of that!

Friday, May 8, 2009

Rainy Caterday

Yesterday my son came up the driveway, pushing his bike and looking all dejected.

“What’s wrong?” I asked.

“It’s too hot! It’s just too hot to do anything. I’m going inside.” He stomped off towards the house.

“Uh,” I replied. Rather cleverly too, I thought, given the circumstances. “It’s too hot” isn’t something you hear people in Alaska say all that often. Especially during break up. Most people are overjoyed at the warmth and the sunshine after seven months of darkness and snow and sleet and snow and ice and snow and wind and snow and minus 30 cold and snow. Did I mention snow?

I glanced at the outside shop thermometer, it was 62 – that’s like 17 degrees in Canada. It was also damp and rainy. My bones ached from it, despite the heavy sweatshirt and Carhartt work pants. I wasn’t cold, but I sure wasn’t hot. In fact I thought 62 degrees, or even 17 Canadian, was just about perfect.

In the last three or four days everything has started to turn green. The snow is gone from the valley floor, though the mountains are still covered in it, and the pass is still twenty feet deep in drifts. But down here in the MatSu it’s just plain gorgeous.

ShopKat agreed.

She was lounging in the sunlight in front of the shop.

Cat 2

She’d spent the morning stalking a squirrel. It was pretty funny to watch and the squirrel was in no danger. ShopKat would spot the wily rodent sitting on top of the squirrel feeder. She would hunch down and belly crawl across the driveway, inching closer and closer. The problem is that ShopKat is built sort of like a chunky bowling pin, and with her black and white coloring she looked for all the world like a penguin playing soldier, and just about as effective. She’d get within about twenty feet of the squirrel, who was watching intently with amused black eyes and malice in its heart – then, without warning, the tree rat would chatter loudly and zip! it would be thirty feet up the big birch tree above the feeder, laughing its mad rodent laugh and spitting sunflower seeds.

ShopKat would slink dejectedly back across the drive to the shop, and sit in the open door staring forlornly at the feeder until the squirrel returned. Then the whole thing would start over.

Eventually ShopKat moved her surveillance post to the wood pile and assumed a heroic pose.

Cat 1

Got West, Young Kitten!

The squirrel was not fooled – so eventually ShopKat lost interest and went off to pout on a log behind the shop.

Cat 3

I figured she would go play in the woods for a while, but it clouded up and started to rain. Rain does not please ShopKat, she returned to her previous perch in the doorway.

My son came back outside refreshed from the cool interior of the house (and a round of Motostorm on the PS3).

Man, I’m glad it finally cooled off. I’m going to ride my bike!”

“In the rain?”

“Du-uh!” (how is it possible for a 12-year old to make a three letter sound of derision into two syllables? He gets that from his mother I suspect). “That’s what makes it cool enough to be outside, Dad.”

Indeed, the temperature had dropped to a much more tolerable 59F – that’s like negative five in Canada I think. My teeth wanted to chatter.

I glanced at ShopKat as my son rode out of sight, she ignored me. Her expression said very clearly “Don’t look at me, he’s the product of your genetic material.” She had me there.

She spent the rest of the day sitting in the door, watching it rain.

Pan 1

Me? I filled the squirrel feeder and put on a sweater.

Thursday, May 7, 2009

Because The Night

I've been on a Natalie Merchant kick for the last couple of days.

Just because, well, because she's freakin' awesome, that's why.

Because the Night was, of course, made famous by another one of my favorite singers, Patti Smith. The song was written by Smith and Bruce Springsteen and originally recorded by The Boss for his Darkness on the Edge of Town album - but it didn't quite mesh with the rest of the album, so Springsteen gave it to Smith who was recording next door in the same studio. Smith rearranged the song and released it on her album Easter in 1978. It made #13 on the Billboard charts. Springsteen used to perform the song using Smith's arrangement at his live concerts but never released it on an album - which is a shame because it was damned good.

I like Patti Smith's version, but this arrangement by Natalie Merchant and performed by 10,000 Maniacs is the best yet. I love Merchant's voice, she's an incredibly powerful talent. And I love the strings in this version of the song.


And just for comparison's sake, here's the acoustic version by Patti Smith:

Jerkoff of the Week – Representative Jim Moran

You know what irks me?

Commercials for, uh, intimate products.

You know, those creams for chronic feminine itching or jock rot (seems to me that if you have those conditions you don’t need advertising to do something about it – seriously here, if I’ve got some kind of jungle funk going on down there, I’m not going to be sitting around on the couch wondering what to do, I’m going down the drug store to scratch in public and talk to the pharmacist. And if you don’t have some kind of problem, well why the hell would you watch the commercial in the first place? But I digress). Or those adds for intimate lubrication (Again, if you need it…). Or those ads for fixing your overactive bladder or weak stream?

And, of course, those ads for erectile dysfunction.

Now, to be clear, I’m not embarrassed by those commercials.

It’s that I just think most of them are stupid, and loud, and insipid. Especially that one for “male enhancement” with Bob – the weird guy with the hard-on in his face (seriously, dude, how many of those things did you take?). But more than anything I find erectile dysfunction commercials irritating for the shallow TV Sitcom version of life they promote – just take this pill and you’ll be a rock hard stud muffin complete with a smiling happily satisfied middle-aged MILF, customized Harley-Davidson Heritage Classic in the garage of your mansion with private golf course access and hot tub on top of a Swiss mountain, and a yacht in the Cayman Islands. You know damned well not one of those coyly smiling middle-aged athletes actually needs the little blue bill - but I guess overweight, diabetic, balding Joe Average American with circulation problems doesn’t cut quite the same figure with a surfboard on the North Shore.

Then there’s that little note about erections lasting longer than four hours – come on, we can be honest here, right? That’s like the CNN Anchorwoman saying “we warn you, the following segment is graphic and could be disturbing…” Really? Cool. And over four hours? Yeah, that’s pretty much a guarantee that every 30-year old adolescent jockstrap douchebag with more testosterone than brains will run right out to buy as many bottles as he can score – and, really, who the hell is he having sex with anyway? Seriously, four hours? Four hours of continuous pounding? For hours of “Uh! You’re on my hair!” Four hours of “leg cramp! Leg Cramp! Argh!” Four hours of free time to dedicate to the project (really, middle-aged people with kids. Sure. “Hey, what are you guys doing in there? Why is your bedroom door locked?” “Nothing, go away!” “What are those noises? Can I come in?” “I said nothing, go away!”)? Four hours of carpet burns? Four hours of friction? Seriously, if the drug companies wanted to make a killing, they should bundle the little blue pill in a kit with a caulk-gun full of chapstick, a tub of burn ointment, and a box of Band-aids. Because, seriously here folks, four hours? And there’s what? 20 pills in a bottle? By the end of the week you’re not going to be able to take a piss without screaming like a little girl.

You know what I do when one of these stupid commercials comes on?

I push the mute button. Problem solved.

Representative Jim Moran (D-VA) doesn’t think that’s enough.

The commercials embarrass him. They make him uncomfortable.

Consequently, Moran (God, the temptation to make a pun on that name is killing me) introduced H.R. 2175, which if it becomes law will prohibit any ED ads from airing on broadcast radio and TV between 6AM and 10PM. The bill advises the Federal Communications Commission to treat these ads as “indecent” and instruct stations to restrict their broadcast to late night and overnight hours.

You know, I’d expect this kind of stupidity from the GOP decency police, but from a democrat? Must be re-election time again. We’ve got conservatives jumping ship for the Democratic party in order to stay in office, I guess it’s not much of a stretch to see a Democrat pandering to the conservatives and bloviating about “indecency” and the erosion of family values on TV.

And this is, apparently, a pretty big deal to a lot of blushingly embarrassed folks, if the comments under this CNN article are any example. The gist of which seems to be that children might ask about it or be unduly influenced. My personal favorite comment was this one:

I have teenage grandsons and have to be on guard every single minute they are visiting and watching TV.

Bawahahahahaha! Excuse me, sorry. Hic. Sorry, can’t breath. Hic hic. Hahahahahaha!

Yeah, Granny. Sure. Those teenaged boys have never, ever, ever, heard of sex, or thought about it, or talked about it, or heard of Viagra, or erectile dysfunction, or made a limp dick joke. Nope. Never. You keep right on believing that. You keep your eyes closed and your fingers in your ears so you don’t have to discuss the derty derty.

We’ll call that the Bristol Palin approach.

You know what I did when my son asked what erectile dysfunction was? I told him. And used the opportunity to talk about other problems men might have and what to do about it, like see your doctor on a regular basis and not be embarrassed about talking openly to him. But I especially used the opportunity to tell him that a pill – and by extension, drugs – might fix a medical problem, but can’t change your lifestyle, or make you handsome, or popular, or successful, or give you a yacht in the Cayman Islands (unless you’re a drug smuggler, but, hey, that’s a conversation for another time). Those ads were a perfect opportunity to have the drug conversation, again – a conversation that you can’t have too often with your children. And it was an opportunity to discuss safe sex and responsible sex and the difference between TV, and the Internet, and reality - and that’s another conversation you just can’t have too often with a teenaged boy.

Representative Moran and his supporters think that these commercials are embarrassing, misleading, and can lead to questions that they’re just too self-conscious to answer. These people seem to think that taking the commercials off the TV and radio will protect their kids – but, of course, what they really mean is that taking the commercials off TV will simply reduce them having to explain uncomfortable subjects with their children. It won’t, however, prevent the kids from finding out about it. It won’t prevent teenagers from scoring a couple of tablets of Viagra from their parents’ night-table or from that punk kid who smells of burning rope and hangs out behind the school gym at lunch time. The difference is, of course, that they’ll be able to remain blissfully ignorant of it – which is what they really want.

Frankly, if you’re going to be outraged, you should be less outraged about an ad for a pill to treat a medical condition than the promised lifestyle these these ads promote. And while we’re on the subject, how about those car ads that tell you the new BMW can go from zero to a hundred and twenty in a quarter mile - but really, professional driver, closed course, don’t you try it (wink, wink), and meanwhile they show the car screaming through the streets of some coastal city with a big-breasted blond in the jump seat? Zoom Zoom, Baby. Or how about those herbal supplements that can make you skinny and popular and immortal – as long as you exercise and eat right? Or those ads for toys that show happy smiling kids enjoying endless hours of fun and entertainment – and somehow never mention that all that crap is “sold separately” and will cost you thousands of dollars and break five minutes after it comes out of the box? Or how about those fast food ads that show fresh, piping hot, mouth-watering sandwiches instead of the flat, stale, cold, tasteless bag of soggy McTurds you actually get at the window?

You want to talk obscenity? I’m curious where Representative Moran was when Countrywide and Merrill-Lynch and Ditech were running those ads for interest only, sub-prime mortgages that promised the American Dream for no money down. Because, see, cleaning up the fallout from those commercials is costing us taxpayers a fortune. Those commercials hurt a hell of a lot of kids by making them homeless and denying them a future. Those commercials damned near destroyed our economy, which is impacting a whole lot more children than those few who happened to ask, “Say Dad, what’s erectile dysfunction?” Viagra ads? Those have cost me exactly nothing. Not one damned cent.

You want to talk about having to have an embarrassing conversation with your kid? How about having to explain why the people trusted to run this country are stupid, selfish, pandering morons who would do and say anything to hold onto power?

Now that’s embarrassing.

Tuesday, May 5, 2009

Offline

Posting, if it occurs today at all, will be delayed until later.

I'm busy, I've got some technical issues, and I've got a headache - but mostly I'm just really, really busy and under some time pressure.

I've got a big job in the shop, and I'm applying for a temporary consulting position with the military and I've got to get the paperwork together. So, you know, that takes priority.

In the mean time you may bask in a little Jealousy

Monday, May 4, 2009

Things That Chap My Ass About WMP11 (updated)

I updated my ZEN.

I like my ZEN a lot, it's the 60GB model, it plays movies and music and stores data and pictures and it's just all kinds of useful to me. I plug it into the shop sound system and the truck's stereo. I don't want to face air travel without it. It's a little bulker than the iPod, but I like the interface a whole lot better and I'm not limited to iTunes (which I refuse to allow on my system under any circumstance).

I thought I'd share my latest playlist with you. You know, just because I'm cool like that.

My music library is large and I've had trouble finding software to manage it without choking. I've tried just about everything. Unfortunately, the best product seems to be Microsoft's Windows Media Player 11 for Vista. I don't particularly like WMP11, and I don't particularly dislike it either. Like most MS products, it's OK. It's useable. It works reasonably well. And it does handle large libraries better than anything else.

And like most Microsoft products it has some amazingly idiot oversights.

So idiotic in fact, that you have to wonder if those oversights are on purpose – and if so, what possible purpose could there be for such deliberate stupidity.

For example, I wanted to print out a couple of my playlists. And, in fact I'd like to be able to print portions of my library. I'd really like to output a text file of my library and playlists in a standard column delineated format - say like an Excel spreadsheet, or an Access Table, or even a Word Table. What I really want to do is export full data for each tune, title, artist, genre, composer, and all the super tag data into an Access database so that I can search, sort, and make correlations and custom analysis of the data - to create new playlists for one thing – but mostly so I can play with the data in ways beyond WMP11's organic capability.

You can't.

It's not that you can't select portions of the library. It's not that you can't select the existing playlists. It's not that you can't display the information

It's that there is NO PRINTING FUNCTION AT ALL.

None. No list printing, no jewel case printing, no disk label printing, nothing.

Oh and before one of you wise guys mentions that you used to be able to buy Windows XP Plus add-on pack and get WMP printing capability, don't. Thanks. I know. It doesn't work under Vista, and there isn't any replacement for it.

There isn't any printing function in WMP11 at all.

There isn't any file output function at all, either.

And as far as I can tell there is no information or advice about such things in the incredibly useless "help" system.

And in fact the help system is so singularly useless and unhelpful that I've got a macro set up to automatically check the "no" box after the question "Was this page useful to you" and fill in the comments box with "Seriously Microsoft, what the fuck?"

I thought maybe the latest version of Word, Access, or Excel might open native format WMP11 playlists and allow you to view, format, and print them. Yeah, sure.

The online knowledge base has no advice or information, other than to suggest you go ask some clueless 17-year old dipshit "Microsoft Expert" on one of their forums – where the answer is invariably a flamewar followed by "you're stupid, we answered that question over on the blah blah thread." Yeah, thanks dickhead.

I eventually downloaded a shareware program that would allow me some minimal ability to print out a playlist.

Then I scanned that back into the system, using the OCF Scan to Searchable PDF function.

Then I copied the PDF document to Word using a cut and paste.

Then I converted that into a table.

Then I formatted the table and uploaded it to my blog editor.


Yeah, I know. But it sort of became a thing.


Title

Artist

For What It's Worth

Buffalo Springfield

Keep on Tryin'

Poco

Canci6n del Mariachi

Los Lobos, Antonio Bandaras

Things to Do in Denver When You're Dead

Warren Zevon

Back to the House That Love Built

Tito & Tarantula

Telling Stories

Tracy Chapman

Down on the Corner

Creedence Clearwater Revival

Gimme Shelter

The Rolling Stones

Sweet Talkin' Woman

Electric Light Orchestra

We Are the People

John Cougar Mellencamp

Walking in Memphis

Marc Cohn

What It Is

Mark Knopfler

No Rain

Blind Melon

Losing My Religion

R.E.M.

We Just Disagree

Dave Mason

Superman's Song

Crash Test Dummies

Gorilla, You're a Desperado

Warren Zevon

Mr. Bad Example

Warren Zevon

Stacy's Mom

Fountains of Wayne

Somebody to Love

Jefferson Airplane

Basement Apt

Sarah Harmer

Bittersweet

Big Head Todd & the Monsters

Sweet Home Alabama

Lynyrd Skynyrd

The Future's So Bright, I Gotta wear shades

Timbuk 3

All Roads to the River

Janis Ian

Domino

Van Morrison

My Maria

B.W. Stevenson

Dreaming Of You

The Coral

A Place in Time

Amanda Abizaid

Ob-La-Di, Ob-La-Da

The Beatles

Werewolves of London

Warren Zevon

Reelin' in the Years

Steely Dan

Hard Times for an Honest Man

John Cougar Mellencamp

Run-Around

Blues Traveler

Bang Bang Bang

Tracy Chapman

Fire Coming Out of the Monkey's Head

Gorillaz

Zombie Zoo

Tom Petty & the Heartbreakers

Sister Golden Hair

America

Bad Moon Rising

Creedence Clearwater Revival

(Don't Fear) The Reaper

Blue Oyster Cult

Dancing Barefoot

Patti Smith

Frank's Wild Years

Tom Waits

Change Your Mind

Sister Hazel

Hey Julie

Fountains of Wayne

These Are Days

10,000 Maniacs

Deja Vu (AllOver Again)

John Fogerty

Touch Of Grey

The Grateful Dead

Willin'

Linda Ronstadt

Wild Night [Live]

John Mellencamp

My Baby Gives It Away

Pete Townshend & Ronny Lane

Lola

The Kinks

The Weight

The Band

Mary Jane's Last Dance

Tom Petty & the Heartbreakers

Learning to Fly

Tom Petty & the Heartbreakers

Come To My Window

Melissa Etheridge

Down to the Waterline

Dire Straits

Message in a Bottle

The Police

Thick-Necked Man

Crash Test Dummies

People Are Strange

Echo & the Bunnymen

Runaway

Del Shannon

Heat Come Down

David Knopfler

Boom Boom

John Lee Hooker

Doctor My Eyes

Jackson Browne

Extreme Ways

Moby

And She Was

Talking Heads

Building a Mystery

Sarah McLachlan

Heard It in a Love Song

The Marshall Tucker Band

Band on the Run

Paul McCartney

You Got Lucky

Tom Petty & the Heartbreakers

Low Rider [Remix]

War

Rooty Toot Toot

John Cougar Mellencamp

Centerfield

John Fogerty

Buffalo Soldier

Bob Marley & The Wailers

It Don't Come Easy

Ringo Starr

____________________________________________________________

Update:

Okay, I'm looking at some other Media Players.


WinAmp

First impression, it's fast, it's free (and the paid version is only $20) and it does seem to handle large libraries. The interface sucks ass - though you can load skins, I'll fool with it and see if there's something I like. But just as a general rule developers, 8pt default font is a deal breaker. Really fellas, and I can't emphasize this enough, you have to give me the option of Windows Default. I want all my apps laid out the same, looking the same, with the buttons and controls in the same place, i.e. I want to set my defaults in the Windows control panel and then I want everything that runs on my system to adhere to it. One of the reasons I dumped all Symantec products is because I got tired of fucking around with their stupid interface.

I'm not dismissing WinAmp out of hand, it's got potential. I'll fool with it and see if I can make it do what I want, the way I want.