The Weekly Update (Whether I Need One or Not)

As my readers may know, I play with LEGO. Part of the fun of LEGO is creating something, coming up with an acronym name for it (or vice versa), and then trying to fill in the letters.

I'm currently working on a mech, and made some bitchin' cannons. Now the hard part: coming up with words for the acronyms. I've got two:
1)FROOM Static Cannon - Forced Reamplification of Orthotically Oscillating Masers
2)QBERT - Quantum Bombardment through Energized Resonant Tachyons

I hope to have better words than maser and tachyon, since they exist. Made-up non-sense that you build your own science for is best. Time will tell.

Oh! Mr Belpit

I'm tired and hungry. When I get home I shall have some leftover pizza (Papa Romano's deep dish Sicilian) and a Special K bar, then go to bed.

A fun time shall be had by all.

Because the Truth Is Out There!!!

http://www.stopabductions.com/

This apparatus should be required for everybody on this planet. You know why...

I Am Not an Anti-dentite!

I had a dentist appointment today. While there I learned two things: 1) My head is too big for the panoramic X-ray machine; and 2) My dentist is starting to look old.

Oh yes, I also learned that my dental hygienist only goes through the motions of flossing. What a pathetic job she did. Tsk tsk.

Nicknames

So far I have come up with four nicknames: Tantrum Tot, Monkeybutt, Dumptruck, and Mr Groper. The first two are reprehensible neighbors; the last two coworkers of my wife.

Mr Groper is a lady, and so is Dumptruck. If you mention the name "Mr Groper", my wife will laugh until she weeps. If you mention "Tubgirl" at the same time, my wife will laugh until no sound comes out.

I do it at every opportunity.

Part 1 of 3

20 Nov 2006

1:08 AM

A BOND-TASTIC EXPERIENCE IS HAD BY ALL

(Except, maybe, Jimmy's nuts...)

There are few things quite like going to see a movie in the theater. Huge screen, huge sound, huge crowds. Well, the last part is rubbish. I hate crowds at a theater. It means you might actually have to sit next to someone and fight for the armrest.

Of course, the worst part is walking into an empty theater¹, only to have the other people walk in right before the movie starts and sit down right next to you. WHY?!? There is an entirely empty theater (except for me and my honey) for them to occupy, so why sit next to/in front of/behind us? Have I suddenly become the best judge of where to sit in a theater merely because I sat down first? Apparently...²

So anyway, Mrs St3nz and I brave the cold and wet and crowds and go see Casino Royale. Lovely film. Brilliant! Best bond for quite a while. Lots of good fisticuffs. I'm a sucker for a good fight scene. There are three good Bond fight scenes: one inCasino Royale, one in GoldenEye, and one in From Russia With Love. The kind of bare-knuckle drag down that really makes you feel Bond isn't going soft. The kind of fight which is the exact opposite of a fight between Capt Kirk and the baddie of the week.⁴

Did I mention we parked in a space "reserved" for expectant mothers or those with small children? (Evil!)

So we saw the movie and really liked it. And then we went home and had the best roast chicken in the world: Mrs St3nz's.

So that's it for my first ever blog entry! Thrilling, innit? Oh, one more thing before I go. I have a great joke for you:

Rat. Snowflake. Train.

Trust me, it's a good one. Feel free to use it for your next speech. Tschuss!

1. Have you ever had the priviledge of sitting in an empty theater? If I haven't, I've come close. Maybe 5 people, tops.

2. I once went to a classical music recital when I was in high school and had about 3 seats on either side of me empty. I kid you not, a guy sat down right next to me. RIGHT NEXT TO ME! And then proceded to lean over towards me. Why me?! What did I do to desrve that?!³ I have a feeling that if I moved over a seat, he'd have moved too. Pope-certified creepy, man.

3. On a similar note, Mrs St3nz attracts the mentally handicapped like flowers attract bees. That's Pope-certified creepy, too.

4. Seriously, we just watched the episode where Kirk et al. come across Khan and the Botany Bay. The climactic fight scene between Kirk and Khan? Fake. So fake. They didn't even bother getting a stuntman who looked like Kirk. Looked more like the lovechild between Chekov and Bones.

Part 2 of 3

20 Nov 2006
9:15 PM

WHO WILL WIN? NO ONE KNOWS!

I'm going to continue to obsess about Bond for a little while more. Why? 'Cause I can.

So I've been thinking1 about Bond as played by Daniel Craig. He's definitely a tough character. Girls melt looking at him, and men can appreciate his looks in a non-gay way (which is saying a lot for men). He's built like a brick house. Honestly, all we needed was a shot of him moving his pecs up and down like he would waggle his ginormous ears.

He is, by far, the best fit to the written Bond of any actors who have played Bond. Those eyes! Those piercing, blue, cold eyes. Is it any wonder Bond has stuck with MI-6 for all these cases and thru all those dead friends/lovers? He has no soul!2

Having said that, I have to wonder: who would win in a fight between James Bond and Jason Bourne? These two are arguably the best known secret agents/assassins in the world today. I credit The Bourne Identity for reviving a lagging spy movie industry, and also for allowing/forcing Bond to move in the direction it does. So who would win in a fight? Let's explore.

James Bond	Jason Bourne
License to Kill	Knows everything
Fast, tough, strong, takes a lickin' but keeps on tickin'	Never got his ass handed to him
Support of entire British government	Doesn't exist
Crack shot	Excellent weapons and hand-combat skills

They actually seem rather evenly matched. But I'm betting that since Bourne has never been on the losing end of a fight (that we know of), he won't know what his limits are. Bond knows. He's had his nuts thwacked with knotted rope. Bourne? Pretty boy never broke a sweat. Not even when fighting the other Treadstone agent in his Paris apartment. Also, Bourne has never killed someone when he didn't need to kill them. Bond, on the other hand, does have a license to kill, and I am sure he uses it liberally. See, Bond knows never to leave an enemy in a position from which they could get you, so he kills them.³ Bourne, on the other hand, is going to get it one day. If they can find him again.

Conclusion?

Bond > Bourne

1. Unlike Lincoln, who's been drinking.
2. And no bubbles for his bath. Not a one.
3. I know, I know, but it's only the movies.

Part 3 of 3

21 Nov 2006

12:34 AM

"YOU SEE ALBIE, WHETHER THE CHICKEN OR THE EGG CAME FIRST ALL DEPENDS ON YOUR VIEW OF THE LORD ROOSTER ALMIGHTY"

The finish off the Bond Philosophical Trilogy, I must bring up one interesting point raised by Mrs St3nz: "If this movie shows how Bond became Bond, then Why is Judi Dench in here as M?"

Wha? This absolutely floored me. She was absolutely right.¹ As soon as she said that, I felt for sure that the movie would be ruined for me, since I cannot let something like that slide. It would be like the popcorn husk I would inevitably get between my teeth which would torment me until I could floss. How could I sit thru an entire Bond movie knowing that M, who replaced the old M, shouldn't even be there? It should have been a completely different M, since I'm sure the orignal M is dead. How could I stop myself from denouncing the screen about the fraud of a movie playing on it? How?!

Well, I did. Turns out that apart from staring at M's donkey teeth² I didn't even think about her in that role as being something abhorrent to nature. And if I can do it, then I guess there's hope for the rest of the world, too.³

1. About the continuity slip, not her being right. Sheesh! Give me some credit.
2. Lower jaw. Reinforces the stereotypical bad British teeth. I didn't see Danial Craig with donkey teeth. Come on Dame Judy. Visit the dentist. I'm sure your uppers are fake, so what's the problem?
3. Yeah, right.

Bringing in the Trash #1

31 Jan 2007
7:13 PM

FOLK MUSIC ROCKS!
- or -
Jeff Daniels Can Go Piss Up a Rope

The title of this little piece of egostroking may seem like an oxymoron, but it really isn't. The definition of rock includes reference to electric guitars. If there's an electric guitar in there somewhere, then you have rock music.¹ These acts had electric guitars. Well, some of them did. Like half. And I don't know if acoustic huitars with cords coming out of them are considered electric guitars or not. If they aren't, then is rock music done acoustically not rock? Does it become folk music? Does folk music then, by definition, not rock? Is the entire premise for this thesis flawed?!

Eh.

Mrs St3nz and I had the privilege of attending the Ann Arbor 30th Anniversary Folk Festival on 26 Jan. You see, Rufus Wainwright was going to be there. Mrs St3nz is a huge Rufus fan, and was willing to brave the rest of the acts to see him. Martha Wainwright² was going to be there as well, and so I was willing to brave the rest of the acts to see her.³

Anyway, we get tickets, and the big day arrives. We drive aaaaaaaaaaaalllllllllllllll the way to Ann Arbor and eat at a Bennigan's. We park in a parking garage(!). We enter the Hill Auditorium, and take our seats. And it appears that my greatest fear has been realized: You see, since this is a folk music festival, I thought that the music would be, you know, folk-y. Banjos and string bassi and cowboy hats, or hippie bohemian women with saggy tits and men with thick beards and tunics and felt boots. If it's seen at a renaissance faire or a barn raising, then it would be here, and I would hate it. Because on stage are four guys in western wear with abanjo and a string bass singing folk-y western tunes, and my fears for the evening were realized.

These were the RFD Boys. Yay! Commence two hours of hell.

But then it got worse. And here is where my subtitle comes into play. After the RFD Boys were done, the worst aspect of the evening became apparent. See, I can handle folk music. I like some of it. Mrs St3nz said, "Just think of A Mighty Wind. You liked that, didn't you?" And yes, I liked that. I was even hoping for a rendition of "Eat at Joe's", or my personal favorite, "Potato's in the Paddy Wagon".⁴ You see, after the band stopped playing, Jeff Daniels came on stage. You may remember him from such movies as Arachnophobia, Pleasantville, and - oh, I didn't remember him from Speed. Huh.

Any way, he was also in Dumb and Dumber, a fact that he had to comment on or react to throughout the night. I've never seen the movie, but apparently there was a toilet scene where he takes a laxative and "hilarity" ensues. He was also in Escanaba in da Moonlight, a film which a lot of Michigan people ended up creaming their pants over because he was A MOVIE STAR and he made a film about DEER HUNTING in MICHIGAN! I guess he wrote it and stuff, but I don't care. Looking at the IMDB.com site, I read someting about a beef-fart bear call, and I've completely lost interest in the movie.⁶ So this great thespian, who also writes his own songs, comes on stage and begins to tell some lame story about Dumb and Dumber, and then sings a song that he wrote. Did you know that all the songs Jeff Daniels would sing that night sound the same? Well they do. And they drone on and on and on, and I have no idea what he went on about, but the morons around us were laughing, and I just wanted to stand up and yell, "Piss up a rope, Daniels!!"⁷ Since he was the emcee for the evening, we had no choice but to listen to him kill time between acts. But more on this later.

So the RFD Boys finish, Jerk Daniels comes on stage and has oral diarrhea, and a group called Millish comes out. I see one guy has a bagpipe kinda thing, but someone else has an (electric!) geetar, so I don't know what to think. I was corn-fused. Then they begin playing. Remember what I wrote earlier about dreading the folk aspect of a folk festival?⁸ I can safely lay those fears to rest. Altho they have a Celtic flair to them, the two songs they performed were great. Normally I'm not a big fan of Celtic music either, but these guys blended folk, celtic, rock, and good material into a whole that even I liked. Pity they only played two songs. But that got us worried that it would be a short night, with the 7 performers doing short sets and the show ending at 9PM (it started at 6:45).

So they finish, Dumbiels comes on to ruin the vibe, and Ember Swift comes on stage. Fronted by Ember Swift herself, the group wears their political heart on their proverbial sleeve, dishin' out protest songs about GM food, rampant capitalism, the military-industrial complex, and so on. In other words: Lefties! The tunes are good, too. They do a four song set, so at least the concert length just doubled. Oh, and Ms Swift looks niiiiiiiice from row W.

Then Jerk Dumbiels comes on and ruins it agin. I don't remember when exactly he did the RV Blues, but if you ever get the chance to listen to it, don't. It's long and tedious, and I stopped listening halfway thru, instead concentrating on whether that really was Rufus standing stage right.

So after that waste of carbon leaves, we have Gandalf Murphy and the Slambovian Circus of Dreams. The band members look like the hippie bohemian people in tunics I mentioned earlier, but they sound nothing like it. The lead singer sounds a lot like Bob Dylan (they even did a Dylan cover), but even if you hate Dylan because you can't understand anything he says and he's lost all relevance except to babyboomers living in their rose-colored-glasses past because if only Bob Dylan had somewho been put in charge everything would have been okay and Vietnam wouldn't have something something blah blah blee blee blee... The energy these guys (and gal) put into their music is phenomenal. The crowd was on their feet (we weren't) and clapping their hands (we were), having a grand old time, one of the times when you wish the group would just go on and on because really, 4 songs wasn't enough from these guys. But then HE comes on stage, and I was *this* close to yelling "Fuck you, Daniels, we want more Gandalf Murphy!" But Mrs St3nz wouldn't let me. So we had to sit thru his tired, boring, lame-ass "song" that he wrote all by hisself. Actually, I think this was the RV Blues song time. Way to kill my buzz, dickweed.

Next was Martha. Pure, golden-haired and smoky-voiced Martha. It doesn't matter what she sings, you know it's going to be good whe she does. And it was. Including the song "Bloody Motherfucking Asshole", which the old fogies in front of us didn't like. I mean, what were they doing there? Granted it was a folk festival, but they looked like they were there because someone gave them tickets and to not sit thru the entire show would be a waste of money they didn't even spend. And they made better doors than windows, if you catch my drift.⁹ If I was facing them I'm sure the pursed lips of disapproval would be seen. I mean, we've had outspoken women (WOMEN!!), long-haried hippie types, and now foul, foul language (and Martha's mother was playing the piano to boot! Her MOTHER!!). We weren't sure if they knew it, but a gay man was headlining (GAY!!!) That's, like, a trifecta of unsavoriness. But they stayed. We thought they might have left during the intermission, but no such luck. They came back. Loozers.

So Martha sang a coulple songs I knew, and a couple I didn't. Good stuff. She's got a new album coming out in a bit. Caint hardly wait.

Next was Jackie Greene, a blues-y type singer from California. I enjoyed his music too. He's going to get shortshrift here, altho I enjoyed his performance. There just isn't anything I can really say to elaborate upon his performance, other than there were technical difficulties, and he didn't have a coat.

Then, after 3.5 hours of music, we had an intermission. Yay! While I was really enjoying the show, I needed to stretch my legs. This is a good time to mention the funny story from earlier that night when I walked out on HHR Jerk Diarrhea: I was thirsty and needed water to soothe my sore throat from all the wooh-ing I was doing during Gandalf Murphy, so I went to get a drink of water. I didn't see a fountain and went downstairs to the lower lobby. I didn't see one there either, so I had to buy a bottle of water form the concession counter. Now, I know I'm a stud and all, but it's still a big ego boost when the cigarette girl tells me that she likes my shirt color. Yup, she wanted me. But I'm still cheap and I only bought the one water bottle. Take that, flatterer!

So when the show starts again, we have two acts left. One is Rufus, but everyone knows he's the last act, so we have the Kiyoshi Nagata Ensemble next. This is a group out of Canada who perform traditional Japanese music. It starts out well, lots of hyper drum beating, and slows a bit for the Japanese guitar thing. You can see the ceremonialism involved in their performance¹⁰: no wasted motions, very stylized. But this next part kills me, because as the player finishes her piece, one of the drummers comes out in one of those little thong-y diaper things that sumos use. And, get this: some in the audience start laughing. Wha? I doubt he's baring his butt cheeks for titilation. Stupid audience. "Oh, it's different, we must laugh!" "Teehee!" I'd expect it from Hollanders, but not from a more open community like Ann Arbor. But then he starts banging on this huge drum for 5 minutes non-stop, and you can see why he would want to wear as little clothing as possible. And of course Jerk Dumbass has to "react" to the guy's outfit. Moron.

OK, no more about him. I've wasted too much time and electrons on this loser. Because next we have Rufus Wainwright, the guy almost everybody was there to see. He put on a great show, playing a little piano, playing a little guitar, and have his sister Martha and mother Kate McGarrigle join him. He even did an encore!

So, show's over, and it lasted for 4 hours. W00t! A great time was had by us, and we made our way out to the lobby. We perused the merchandise, shook hands with Gandalf Murphy¹¹, and headed out the door. But then we see a crowd gathered behind the auditorium. "A crowd has gathered behind the auditorium," we say, and decide to join it. If there are college kids hanging around aoutside behind an auditorium you *know* something's going down. So we wait, and low and behold, Rufus and Martha come out!¹³

So everyone starts crowding around Rufus, trying to get an autograph or photo¹⁵, and I feel so bad for Martha, because no one is paying any attention to her. So while Mrs St3nz is in the Rufus crush, I amble over to Martha, and get her autograph. Yay! I head back to the press to see to Mrs St3nz and she is getting Rufus' autograph. Yay! A perfect end to a great evening. We pile into the car and drive the 2+ hours back home, content in our having met famous people, because nothing defines us like "celebrity hound".

1. So all you "country music" losers are really just a twangy rock buncha losers. I knew it all along, but this merely reinforces your lameness.
2. Rufus' sister, previous backing vocalist, and singer/songwriter in her own right
3. And Rufus too; I like his stuff. I also like giving Mrs St3nz a hard time about her liking Rufus and my not liking Rufus, even tho we both know I like Rufus. So really I'm just full of crap.
4. Seriously, if you've never seen a Christopher Guest film, do yourself a favor and see them all: This is Spinal Tap, Waiting for Guffman, Best in Show, and A Mighty Wind.⁵
5. I cannot attest to For Your Consideration since I have not yet seen it.
6. Much the same way you're losing interest in this overly long, tedious, and dull recounting of a concert. Well fine, just stop reading now. I don't care. Only 4 people have ever read this damn blog, and if I lose one or two, so what, it's only 50% of my readership. I'll still know I'm getting to the good stuff, but you won't. So bye!
7. And that's two exclamation points because I'm in row W and there's a lot of people in there and even tho I'm only 50-75 feet from Jerk Daniels I'd want to make sure he heard me very, very well. But Mrs St3nz wouldn't let me.
8. Of course not, I've driven it out of your head with my textual diarrhea (Jerk Daniels, I call you "Brother"!)
9. I don't have one.
10. Even if there isn't.
11. He really isn't named Gandalf Murphy, but it's easier to remember than his real name, which is Josiah or something. It's kinda like saying you shook hands with Pink Floyd when you've met Roger Waters and/or David Gilmour, but it you don't know their names, then Pink Floyd would work just fine.¹²
12. Wouldn't it?
13. Well, technically Rufus is already out, and Martha isn't gay, so she didn't come out either. I meant they went outside, you know, left the building to get to their car, where all the loser fans¹⁴ were waiting to yell "Rufus!" in lispy gay-ese.
14. Like us.
15. Damn us for not bringing a camera!

In the Beginning was the W3rd

Greetings and Salutations!

I hope everyone had a safe trip here. Of course, it will probably be wasted in both the short- and long-term, but that's not my fault.

Well, maybe it is. But I refuse to accept responsibility for it.

I wanted something other than the last place I was at, so here I am. I know next to nothing about "blogging" or whatever you kids call it these days, so bear with me. I'll be transferring my whopping four (4!!) posts over here shortly. After all, I don't want to deprive you of my pre-written wit. I'd rather you sit and waste any in my non-updated hole of a blog. That's more my style, anyway.

But, seriously, thanks for stopping by. I'll try to behave.

St3nz