Horton Hears a Hookah

My brother and I don't usually get along very well. Most people don't pick up on that. (Those who have seen it come to blows, excluded.) I think the reason we're so covert about our squabbles is that they're pretty entertaining to watch, like this one from two nights ago in the kitchen.

Scott: "I do keep a few items of clothing out of centimental value, but I am not a pack rat"

Ross:"Yeah, like your scouts shirt."

Scott:"Yea... how do you know about that"

Ross:"Because I wore it. And sorry man, but I ripped it. Just a little too small you know. Me and Katie like to role play. She was the scout master I was the scout."

Scott:"What a shame you didn't have enough rope for her to do any tricks."

And the other people in the kitchen thought it was funny, just some harmless sibling banter. What they don't know is that the bastard really does take things and use them, often destroying them. I don't say this so you can marvel at how tolerant I am not to have smothered him in his sleep at the earliest opportunity, but so you can understand the context of our getting along yesterday. It was like that Christmas Eve in World War I when the Germans and British stopped shooting at each other, shook hands, and sang carols. Of exactly the same magnitude.

My brother, scamp that he is, had purchased a hookah pipe/bong and while we were getting along we had every intention to spark that thing. Thinking ahead we decided to go out back so the entire house didn't smell like flavored tobacco. Sitting on the back porch in the shade we lit the charcoal atop the foil screen, allowed the sisha tobacco to start to smoke, and passed that toke back and forth for about ten minutes.

Our veritable peace pipe.

For whatever reason we were having a really good time. Taking a hit, blowing deformed smoke rings, and passing it back to the other. We happened to be laughing pretty loudly at some of the ridiculous banter we had going just as our elderly neighbor came out onto her porch. Ross saw her, I only heard her. Apparently she steped out onto her deck, saw the two of us laughing hysterically and taking hits from a bong like device, contorted her face into utter shock (Ross's report) gasped audibly (from roughly 150 yards away) and slammed her door as she huffed back inside.

If we were laughing before that point, afterwards I was in pain because I just couldn't laugh hard enough. It's moments like those that make getting along with a sibling worthwhile. Hell, it even justified the expense and difficulty of hookah smoking. In short, the key to bridging the divde between yourself and your siblings is illicit seeming substances and the distain of the elderly.

- Scott

The Venture Brothers

Apologies for the long time between posts, but recently much of my time has been spent in preparation for grad school. Ok. That's a blatant lie. Except for the breif phone interview today for my assistantship (which I aced) I haven't really been doing much besides spending time with friends and watching the Venture Brothers. At the moment the latter makes for better posting material.

The Venture Brothers, in short, is basically what you would get if Johnny Quest (and crew) were morons. The titular characters, Hank and Dean, have been accurately described as 'idiot Hardy boys.' Couple that with some of the best parody work I've seen and you've got yourself a hum dinger of a series. Take a look at the intro from the second episode of the new season "Hate Floats." I laughed pretty heartily watching 21 go through his "Mars the Bringer of War" spiel... mostly because I've caught myself doing the same thing from time to time. Usually when I'm getting dressed.

It's alaming, but I see more and more of myself in The Monarch with each passing episode. Perhaps not me, per se, but who I'd be if I were a supervillian. Anyway feel free to enjoy the entire episode, it's all there on YouTube. In fact, this post wouldn't have taken so damned long if I hadn't stopped halfway through to watch the entire episode. I've got some more posts to crank out today in pennance for my week long absence, but right now all I want to do is become a costumed henchman. C'est la vie... Now on to less wistful matters.

- Scott

P.S. If you're wondering why their I.D.'s are burned up, you should watch this short explanatory clip.

Vengence is mine sayeth the sticker.

I'm not a generally vengeful person. In fact at times I've been known to shrug off the kinds of things people fully expect me to exact retribution for. In my mind it's all just a big game of sorts. No sense in getting angry over too much (though there are certain exceptions). In fact, one such exception is parking. I can't stand it when people park their cars like a-holes. And I always get even.

For instance, take a look at this site. All of these people deserve to know that they park like idiots. The guy I nailed below perhaps didn't. Rob at least contests that the issue was more with my car's ability to turn. However he crossed me at just the wrong time, and so he got his. And he was crowding the remaining spot. Would it have killed him to straighten his hoopty so that I could actually walk around the back of my car without getting pinched between the two?

The word I would use to describe such an act is "liberating".

I was nice enough to blur the guy's license plate. There's really no need for anyone else to take issue with him. I looked in his car and wondered what I could do to him that life hasn't already. Then I remembered I had a very convienent bumpersticker in my glovebox. I suggest everyone purchases a few. They've changed my life.

But that's just one (sexy, marvelous, resplendant) man's opinion.

- Scott

The End of the World.swf

I'm somewhat loathe to move on from such a good post, what with the making fun of that picture and all. However, I have to wonder if anyone else is thinking along the same lines I am as far as the current world news situation stands. I asked, roughly five minutes before it happened, how long it would be before they started calling it WWIII. I hope that one sticks, because I'm really sick of this "War on Ter-rah".

But what troubles me the most is how close some of the religious people are to creaming their collective robes over the war. They're ecstatic! "War in Jerusalem? I can't wait until someone uses nukes! The rapture can't be far off!!!!1!!" Now this is alarming on several levels. First of all, is life on earth really so bad you can't wait for it all to be over? If so, why not just go nuts. Buy stocks on margin, drink rot gut whiskey, smoke a blunt. Whatever, live it up. But don't sit around hoping the whole world goes to hell just so you get to be a part of some apocryphal magic event that's supposed to happen just before it gets really bad down here.

And stop with the comments like:

"This is the busiest I've ever seen this website in a few years! I have been having rapture dreams and I can't believe that this is really it! We are on the edge of eternity!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!"

"I am excited beyond words that the struggle of this life may be over soon and I can finally be FREEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE!!!!!!!!!"

"Whoa! I can sure feel the glory bumps after reading this thread!"

Seriously. If you'd like to read more of this madness, check out this post over at Harpers.org. Or just dial up your favorite fundy forum. I'm sure they've already provided hours of entertainment for all of us.

- Scott

P.S. If you have to believe it's the end of the world, at least do it like this.

Higher Education Poster Child

I've always thought myself a pretty photogenic, influential, and all around wonderful person. Unfortunately this opinion hasn't always been shared by others. Like the time I thought it would be great fun to wear the chained medal they give to the valedictorian and walk around spouting such witicisms as "I pity the fool who's not valedictorian." Or "Drink your vegetables, stay in milk, and don't do school." I have a surprisingly good Mr T. impersonation. It was all well and good until I ran into the valedictorian himself, who found it less amusing than I did. Especially when the damn thing couldn't be put back in its case despite our combined efforts. I guess he wasn't so smart after all. Where's that perfect GPA now hot stuff?

In any case, I'm a pretty great guy. I could never understand why no one made me the head of a multinational corporation. Or at least put me on TV. (Wait, actually that already happened.) But what I've never been is the face of an organization. Sure I ran the "Dangerous Adventures, No Girls" club out of my treehouse, but the group got very little media exposure. Despite our limited influence, I learned from the experience that what an institution really needs in order to get ahead is an attractive, blondish, rugged, plaid bedecked individual. Bonus points if he's witty and charming.

Apparently Robert Morris College decided I'm right. Let's face it, there's really no better way to promote the school. Observe.

Eh? Pretty effective, no? You can't wait to matriculate all over that can you ladies?

Literally thousands of high school students are now receiving that very flyer. Even more are receiving different versions where I'm sprawled out across several books, clad only in the pages of works by James Joyce. I also have nipple tassels made out of Truman Capote's writings. It's the decidedly racier version.

However I want everyone to know I didn't write that text floating near my perfect head. Nor did I say it in the commercial that this picture is taken from. In fact, I don't think I ever said anything to that extent in the whole my time there. Although one time I'm pretty sure I said "I have a goal and plan to get out of here." So maybe they misquoted me on that.

Interestingly, I also didn't say they could put me on a flyer! I signed a release that said they could use my likeness for the commercial, not for flyer distribution. Clearly I can expected a renegotiated royalties contract.

- Scott

P.S. Know, dear readers, that I had to go to the public library to scan this document. All for you. Sure, we have scanners here. Several. But apparently nobody thought it a worthy cause to keep the f*#^ing installation disks. So I had to sit, amid grammatically challenged 13 year old girls while listening to such quotable bits of information as "Rachel don't like you." It's also a great place to visit the internet, and computing in general, as it was oh say... seven years ago? That sounds right.

Mother Russia, do not suffer...

"I know you're bold enough,
I've been around the world,
And I've seen your love."

Recently my activities have been influenced heavily from our Ruskie comrades. To the extent that I've purchased this hat. I'm sure you're all worried about my political affiliations, but fear not, I still vote Democrat (mostly). Besides, the Communist Party hasn't done anything for me, the disenfranchised laborer (does typing count as labor?), lately. No, those crazy kids at the former C.C.C.P. have been passing along bits of their culture that I, the good-looking, clever, trendy college student, greatly appreciate. Specifically two things I've been hot and heavy with lately.

Thing Number Одно (One): Mafia.

Jakey already posted a bit on this one, but I intend to rehash it anyway. Because I'm charming and I have pictures. And that's what you call the double whammy. Mafia is a game that's fantastic to play in a large group, i.e. 12ish people and more. Cards, denoting roles, are passed out to all the players by the moderator, who narrates the whole affair. Black cards are the mafia, red are townspeople, certain red cards are also special roles like the Ace Reporter (Ace of Diamonds) or the Doctor (Queen of Hearts).

There's a day round, and a night round. In the night the two mafiosos make their deadly selection (who to kill), the Ace Reporter makes his selection (learning for sure whether or not the person they point to is in the mafia), and the Doctor makes his selection (to save someone he thinks might have been killed by the mafia (usually himself (when I'm the doctor))). Naturally accusations fly, people get to test their deception, detection, and all-around inciting an angry crowd to stone an allegedly guilty party skills.

Here's what a typical game looks like.

Accusation!
Caitlin defends herself against the suspicions of the mob of angry townspeople. Occasionally people lose themselves completely in the game and stand up yelling "Wiiiiiiiiiiiiiitchhhh!" You have to be prepared to give a good reason why you wouldn't have killed the person in question and why you couldn't have been seen flying over Goodie Proctor's barn last night.

Some are better at defending themselves than others...

As you can see by the suspicion and doubt plastered across their faces like so much makeup, and her acceptance of her impending burning at the stake, Brittany isn't doing such a great job.

An overhead view of the chaos.

And that's Mafia. Classy game, I reccomend you try it out sometime. However be aware that it can, and has, ended friendships. Like the maze at the end of Harry Potter IV, "people change in the game..."

Thing Number Dva (Two): AllofMP3.com

Thanks again, Russia. Want a site where you can actually find recordings by indie bands? (I'm frowning out the router port in your general next-hop direction, Pirate's Bay.org) I couldn't find the Swingers soundtrack anywhere (short of paying for it), nor could I find my favorite Indie/Folk band The Mountain Goats. That is until I checked out AllofMP3.com. I heartily recommend it.

For about $1.00 per album you can get whatever you want. Everything recent, and pretty much any old songs you could want as well. You aren't forced to purchase the entire albums either. You can download individual tracks if you'd like, which cost about 0.08¢ a piece. Thanks Russian economy! In addition, you get to choose the encoding level. As low as 128kbps (slightly better than radio) to as high as 320kbps (insanely good, if the third chair viola player farted in Beethoven's 9th, you'll hear it).

If you're wondering if it's legal, then you've done this dance before I take it. Fortunately in Russia an obscure, but valid, law permits music delivery by wire without copyright violations. Because that's what's happening we're solid. So load up on cheap music comrades!

Oh, I almost forgot, I also enjoy Vodka. Go Team Russia!

- Scott

Pirates of the Carribean: The Distracted Man's Film

I went out and saw PotC (henceforth refered to as "Potsey") last night, and I have to agree with Nessa; I was dissapointed*. However, I was dissapointed for different reasons. Don't get me wrong, every criticism of hers was valid, however I had read so many bad reviews of this movie that when I finally got to see it I was expecting something along the lines of the worst film ever made. Sadly this was not the case.

I will say that it's a very ADD special effects** loving film. They introduce plots like... well like the below film explains. I recommend you watch it.

So true, and from a ninja: so you know it's good. What I decided is that Potsey isn't actually one three hour movie. It's a series of short fifteen minute films. You could even divide it up that way. For instance, when Orlando Bloom is on Davy Jone's ship and has his misadventures, that's a movie. When the crew visits the Big Bad Voodoo Mama, that's a movie. It's just a whole bunch of short films spackled together to appear, at first glance, as one larger narrative. But don't get taken in; it's as much one coherent entity as Voltron. Seemingly one, but really made up of five robotic lions.

- Scott

*But see the movie anyway, it's not wholly abysmal. You have to look at it as the second act in a three act play. Everyone has problems, nothing seems resolveable, and there's an intermission where we all go out and talk about how bad it's sucking at the moment. And then look forward to the deus ex machina.

**Best special effect of the film: making it appear as though Kiera Knightley has any breasts to speak of.

Who needs a thriving youth scene?

Thanks for the kick in the ass I needed unsigned anonymous poster. Time flies when you're celebrating and especially when you don't pay attention to what day it is for weeks at a time. But I'm gradually ramping up to my full level of activity. After being dormant for seven months I figure I'm finally rested enough. I mean, even bears hibernate for shorter periods.

So, what has been gobbling my time up like a bulemic girl eats pizza at a buffet? Jerseyville games. Much like the Goodwill Games, they rarely get the attention (or wardrobe...) they deserve, but unlike those particular games, people enjoy them.

The first game we like to play when all the J-villian's are back in our fair city is Capture the Flag. Now there's various incarnations of this game I'm sure you've all heard of. Maybe you remember the Salute Your Shorts episode played with waterballoons and flags tied to sticks. Fun, but not our collective bag, baby. Or perhaps you're more of a translocator/insta-gib shock rifle kind of guy. No dice either.

The way we play is more elaborate, intense, and Indiana Jones-esque. It works like this: we divide up into teams of four or five. Each team has a car. There are usually two to four teams. We devise cleverly worded cluse which are then hidden across the entirety of our humble town in various obscure places. Following the first clue will take you to the next and so on until the flag is found. First team back at the starting point with a flag is the winner.

Last time I had some clues that I couldn't draw well enough to express, so I decided to whip them up in photoshop. So you get to see a pretty good example of the kinds of things you can expect. I'll let you try to solve them in the comments and I'll tell you how close you came to interpreting the clues correctly (even if you don't know what the answer you come to means). Here they are:

Clue #1

Clue #2

Clue #3

The game gets very deep sometimes. For instance, two games ago I wrote a clue I knew Rob (the leader of the opposing team) would have to Google to solve. So, I disabled his internet before I left his house (which was the base). I also inspected the notepad they had been using for clue writing to see if there were any imprints deep enough to be legible. Sadly I just got the shape of their flag.

Anyway, the other game we play is Mafia. I'll get into that in the next post... if you can solve my clues.

- Scott

Who you gonna call?

Recently I was fairly panicked. I had delayed for quite some time on finding an apartment in Champaign, which will be my city of residence for grad school. Normally this wouldn't be such a big deal, moving to a new city I'd just check out the apartment options and rent one. So what. Well, I had never lived in a "college town" before. Apparently the thing to do is sign your lease at the point you're born, so that when you get to college you have an arranged living situation. Maybe I'm exaggerating slightly. But my girl-fr... (damn, I said I wouldn't talk about her for a week and a half), that is to say a person that I like a good deal, was already signing her lease for next year. And she hasn't even lived in this year's apartment.

So I was a little worried. Fortunately Meg was there to help out and guide me to some realtors. The first we visited was, without doubt , the most self important individual I have ever had the bemusement to meet in my life. On the way to the (vastly overpriced) apartments she drove us to, she made no less than five phone calls to shout at underlings about trivial things. "Hello? Hello? Tim? Tim can you hear me, this is Miriam Booth. Why is the thin dry wall on the porch still? I'm driving past.. I'm DRIVING PAST and I can see thin dry wall." "We have a sprinkler situation at 508 E. Green, we need to get someone on that." Etc.

When we got to the apartments she double parked and we got out as she was yelling at the maintence guy for those particular apartments. I looked down at the back of her little red Volvo and noticed somebody had carved "LEARN TO PARK BITCH" into the trunk. I had to bite my tounge very hard to keep from doubling over in laughter at that point. Also fun was that she decided I was from Chicago and only down for the day (although I never said any of this) and proceeded to talk to me that way. "So how was the Ryan Adams? Isn't that construction terrible?" she asked. "Oh yeah. I don't know what's going on there." I truthfully replied. "Doesn't it just drive you crazy?" "Well, I just bring my iPod, play some songs, and wait it out." "How much longer until they finish it?" "I guess they'll keep working until it's done."

And so on. Needless to say I didn't decide to live there. The next day we saw several apartments, three of which were up for consideration. They were:

• The Den.
  So named because it looked like somebody's hunting lodge. Thick wooden paneled walls, shag carpeting. A very warm, glow oozed from the thrice varnished walls. It was, by far, the most ridiculous apartment we looked at, and as a result I very nearly rented it. It was shockingly inexpensive for the area. It was decided that to properly live here I would have needed to have a few animal heads mounted on the walls. Other attractive features were a shower you stepped down into, as it was dug deeper into the ground than the rest of the below ground apartment, and a closet so huge that I decided it would be my computer room. Seriously, I would have done it. It was almost like a batcave; through a tiny overlooked door in a corner you slide the wood panel over and enter a 6 foot square room. Very cool.
  
  
• The U.
  So named because the apartment was shaped like a giant U. However I didn't realize that it had a second side at first. It would have been a completely acceptable apartment with just half of the space. When I found that door and the apartment suddenly doubled in size I was fairly blown away. Sure the shower was a little ratty, but a secret home doubling door? That's pretty cool. Unfortunately the hallway was too narrow to move my furniture in. I noticed that everyone had futons because you can't actually get a couch in there. Also there wasn't any laundry service in the area. It lost some points for that.
  
  
• The Georgian.
  So named because... well because of this: "Constructed in 1925, the Georgian apartment building is located at 1005 South 6th Street in the heart of the University of Illinois campus, and was recently designated an historical landmark by the City of Champaign. The building provides 27 apartments with three stories and an English-style basement. The Georgian is an impressive example of Georgian Revival style architecture, one of the very few remaining early twentieth-century apartment buildings near the university."
  
  When I went inside the word dominating my vocabulary was "sweet". I had seen about 24-25 apartments that day. All of them were drably drywalled cubes at best, cestpools of the filth of college housing at worst. But this one? Not so. Clean. Hardwood floors. Plaster walls. A shower I could actually stand up in. Those cool olde style light switches with the on and off buttons. A wall of doors that can be slid away to open into another room. It's a corner apartment. There's a dumb waiter, the remnants of an old timey intercom system, and a very cool kitchen. So it was decided that while the U and the Den would have been fun, I was definitely going to live in the Georgian.
  

An added bonus: It reminds me of the Ghostbusters Firehouse.

If you're interested/jealous of my sweet corner apartment you can check out Preserve the Georgian (yes, my building has a website) and some random girl's Flickr Photostream. Feel free to visit, now you know where to go.

- Scott