The Demonweasel Speaks

So I forgot to mention the best thing about my little east coast visit. A little something that may well be my key to fortune and glory, Dr. Jones.

Two words: Pirate Jesus.

Roll it around in your mouth. Arrr, does not the gospel of the sea taste like sweet, sea air?

Weíll see how this goes.

I also just tonight had a glimmer of something, something that could be something more. The good news is that I actually did some work the other night, and got past a little bit of a bump I had in the editingÖthing that has bumps.

What did I say about metaphors? Thatís what I thought.

The first two episodes of ìSmallvilleî this season have been plenty fun. Lois Lane! Yay! Of course, this totally screws the pooch of her not realizing that say, ten year down the line when he puts on a pair of tights and starts flying around. Yíknow, without a mask, seeing as how sheís seen him in all his, er, muscular glory. Without glasses. But hey, itís a fun ride, and telling a good story is what itís all about, and thatís what theyíre doing.

ìRescue Me,î the Dennis Leary show, just keeps getting more and more brilliant. Great, great fun. For grownups, of course. In fact, Iím watching it now, so itís taken forever to write this. ìYou can tell Robert Redford he can kiss my little black ass.î Now they have a black midget whoís a horse racing genius. He can tell which one is going to win because he can read their faces. Because heís the perfect height.

Other than that, I think work is trying to murder me. Street Fair is coming up, and Iíve never worked a street fair before. We have a lot of shit to do, meaning Iím going to be working some long hours coming up. In fact, I think Iím going to be putting in a 12-hour day tomorrow. Not that I really mind, or itís horribly hard work, but itís just draining. But I love it, and thatís what counts.

Suddenly interrupted, I remainÖ

And we’re back.

My sisters wedding was this weekend, and man, what a tremendously fun time it was. A great ceremony (Catholic, but light on the cardio up-and-down), and perhaps the best reception I’ve been at in perhaps ever. It was outside at a campground next to a lake, with live music provided by all the musical guests that they had and a great fire circle. And beer. Glorious, glorious beer.

I saw a lot of family I haven’t seen in almost forever, including my sister Erika’s kids that I hadn’t ever seen before and cousins I haven’t seen in even longer. We all danced and hung out and drank and just had a great time. There were even a couple of performers from the Bindlestiff Family circus eating fire and doing other fire tricks (and more importantly, the woman doing it in a dress that was equally as hot).

Did you say pictures? Why yes, yes you did…

Al, the groom, singing to my sister, Ingrid (aka, the Bride). In the background, my father sits in with the band on drums.

Left to Right: My neice Julia, my sister Britta, my neice Natalie, my neice Rachel, my sister Erika, and my nephew Jonah.

Britta and Al’s brother and best man, Phil.

Scenic veiws of Camp Nyoda, reception central.

My friend Chris, my man-date.

Kids playing at the church.

Left to Right: My dad, my mom, Britta, Britta’s stepdad David, Britta’s mom Ursula, Ingrid, Al, Al’s mother, Al’s father, Erika, Phil.

Dancing, the non-drunken variety.

Ingrid and Al arrived at the camp via rowboat, reenacting the storming of the beach at Normandy (formal wear division).

Britta, David, Ingrid, Al, Ursula, Erika.

Ingrid, Al, Phil and the Goris.

My father, sitting in with the band.

L to R: My cousin Andy, his wife, my cousin Heidi, my aunt Martha, family friend Henry Cook and his wife Gisela.

The ever-popular receiving line.

Group shot outside the church.

This has been a cute little look at my family. Please don’t stalk us.

Tired of writing html, I remain…

Not a lot to report. I’m slogging through the comic book mines at work, trying to force in some semblance of order. If I had a nickel for every time I’ve alphabetized comics, sorted comics, or bagged and boarded comics, I’d be a trillionaire.

I’m watching the new Batman cartoon now. Interesting. I still prefer the “old” Bruce Timm version, but this one looks okay. I’m not sure about the whole modernizing that they seem to going for, but I guess they’re trying to create buzz with the young people for the new movie.

A Starz free preview weekend this weekend, so I’ve got a lot of things on the agenda to watch and/or tape. I watched “The Hulk” last night, and sadly, it still doesn’t hold up on a second veiwing. A real shame, but hey, don’t make me Ang Lee. You wouldn’t like me when I’m Ang Lee.

Finally got to see “Session 9″ last night. I’ve wanted to see this movie since last Christmas, and once it started showing up on IFC I kept missing it for one reason or another. It’s a wicked good, legitimately scary tale of a clean-up crew hired to clean asbestos tiles out of an old mental institution and the horrors they uncover there.

I’m reading “How to Make Love Like a Porn Star: A Cautionary Tale,” the Jenna Jameson autobiography. Fascinating, well written and witty. I recommend it highly, and not just for the pictures. ;)

Haircut coming soon. We’ll see how this goes. My sisters wedding is next Saturday and I’m leaving Friday morning. It should be a blast, and it’ll be fun to be back in the NYC area again.

So yeah, chugging along. Not much to report in the writing department, though. We’ll see how long that lasts. It’s been a hectic month.

I’m amused the the Six Feet Under quote from the last entry is bringing in search engine results.

Wishing life were as easy to organize as comics, I remain…

Ah, so, another year come and gone. How did I spend my 28th anniversary? Lots of liquor and feeling sorry for myself. Bravo, young man, bravo. In any case, time has moved on, and so will I.

Phase one of my little master plan has gone into effect. Hopefully, phase two will happen soon.

Oooh, mysterious.

Happy Birthday Dad, I love you.

Happy Birthday Ma, I love you too.

Season finale of Six Feet Under? Holy crap. Holy crap. ìYou hang on to your pain like it means somethingÖYouíre alive. Whatís a little pain compared to that?î Fan-fucking-tastic.

What else to say? Not much.

Iím going to go for a walk. I need to clear my head.

Clouded, I remainÖ

It looks like this month is going to be a big rollercoaster, which I guess sounds fun, but still. Work schedule got rearranged, my time with Allie is changing a little bit, and then changing again, Iím going to my sisters wedding in NJ. Ah well, nothing ever stays normal.

Tick tock, Clarice, tick tock. My birthday is only a couple of days away, and then I stop talking about it for another year. Itís like a mangy, toothless dinosaur that hibernates. A lot.

Been reading the ìSeries of Unfortunate Eventsî books, and they are hysterical. Well worth reading, and you can burn through them in an afternoon, so itís good that there are ten out so far.

I havenít said anything about the whole ìThe rape case against Kobe Bryant being droppedî thing. Now I will. Clearly, my views on this are tainted, as he is a Laker, and they are the Devil, but letís think about this rationally. When the case was dropped (because the young woman who was allegedly assaulted decided not to cooperate with the prosecutors), Kobe issued a statement talking about how horrible this whole thing is, and how he now realized that what he thought was consensual she did not, and that is bad. In a weird bit of legal maneuvering, this statement canít be used against him in the civil trial, because I guess her layers said they wouldnít. Good luck finding a jury that hasnít heard it, meaning this thing will probably just be settled and will just go away, in perhaps one of the most anti-climactic cases ever.

Iíve said from the start that weíll never know what happened in that room in the 15 minutes she was there. The timeframe alone (which I had just heard about when the story about the case being dropped first broke) seems weird. It seems like the worst kind of misunderstanding, the more I think about it. She goes up there, they fool around, have sex, and then she leaves. Heís all ìHey, that was cool,î and sheís all ìOh my god, he had sex with me, I was just there to make out/whatever.î Iím sure a lot of guys have imagined that kind of nightmare, doomsday scenario, sleeping with a girl and having her go ìOh, that wasnít what I wanted, youíre in trouble.î Is the guy wrong? Well, yeah, of course, but the girl has to say something, do something to show lack of consent, even if itís ìjustî saying ìNo.î A case where a guy is going along doing his thing and the woman doesnít want it but doesnít say or do a single thing is almost too close to call. When it comes right down to it, if you run over someone with your car by accident, you still ran someone over and killed them, even if it was an accident. Itís still a problem, and you still end up going to jail.

The lesson here? Always get a verbal ìYes,î and donít fool around with people that are impaired (drunk, high, stupid).

Oooh, I can feel the arguments crackling out there as I go back over what I just wrote. Let me be clear here: Rape is bad. Donít be raping. And yes, the car analogy is a bad one, but itís the best one I can think of, even though some people donít look and just dart out across the street and get hit, and that has yet to happen in a rape case. Iím not trying to be all Bill Maher reactionary or anything, just a respectfully terrified guy.

On a lighter note, thereís a new show on Trio called ìPilot Seasonî thatís absolutely hysterical. It stars Sarah Silverman, who is as cute as she is vulgar and Jewish, and itís a mockumentary about the Hollywood system during the 120 days between January and April where agents and studios try to cast new shows, which is calledÖwhich is calledÖwell, itís called something. Perhaps something to do with the title of the show. Maybe. Itís hysterical and skewering and there is a mind-numbingly gorgeous redhead on it.

Iím thinking of getting a haircut. Something drastic. A Mohawk? HmmmmmÖwho knows!!!?!?!

Oh, and happy birthday Felicity. She’s older now, about a year or so.

Mysterious, terrified, unfortunate, I remainÖ

LAST MINUTE UPDATE
Let me tell you why ìOut for Justiceî is such a great movie. Because Steven Segal goes *out* for justice. He doesnít just stay home and wait for justice to call him, or stop buy and see if he wants to hang out. Heís not calling going, ìHey, can I get some justiceÖwait, whatís that? If my justice isnít here in twenty minutes itís free? Awesome! Can I get some breadsticks and a diet Faygo with that?î Heís *out* there, looking for justice. People that see him on the street donít go ìHey, I bet that guy is out running errands, maybe going to go get a pedicure.î No, they know that greasy, ponytailed, hard-assed motherfucker is out for justice. Heís out there pounding the pavement for that bastard, and if he finds it, if he finds justice, oh sweet Christ in his heaven, heís going to do some serious shit, like grab it by its pinky and flip it into a mailbox or some other seriously deadly, yet highly improbable, shit. That, my friends, is a beautiful thingÖ

And another thing is that he takes care of a puppy, and that’s just fucking adorable.

I just watched ìUnderworldî for the first time tonight.

Jesus fucking Christ, what garbage. What utter, useless, thoughtless garbage. Iím sick of this kind of sub-par nonsense. This is a Vampires vs. Werewolves movie? Iím tired of everyone strutting around in leather and PVC corsets. Iím tired of vampires that just sit around looking all mopey and tragic drinking blood from wine goblets. Iím tired of werewolves that are about as scary as muppets. Iím tired of writers trying to come up with cool biological ways for there to be vampires and werewolves, and having them all be viruses and germs and shit like that (what next, a movie about a guy who catches lycanthropy from a toilet seat? ìUh oh, my ass is messy and its the full moon. Here comes trouble!î). Iím tired of slow motion camerawork being used so much that it deserves its own screen credit (If slow motion photography were a person, theyíd be the richest person in the world. Hands down.). Iím tired of interior photography (showing someoneís veins, lungs, heart, whatever doing something or getting destroyed) being used in the same way (have we learned nothing from ìHardware?î) Iím tired of people just doing dumbshit things with supposedly undead people, like having them almost drown, or show one of them coming to life by using the aforementioned interior photography to show their heart *start beating.* Iím tired of evil, inhuman supernatural things like vampires and werewolves declawed and defanged so they can be all cuddly and relatable and be friendly (yes, Iím a Buffy fan, but that kind of thing must be handled with care). When I go to the movies to see a horror movie with these types of things in them, I WANT TO SEE SOME EVIL SHIT GOING DOWN. I want to see people mealiní on a deep-fryed baby sandwich and then get upset that there are too many tiny baby bones in it.

Yíknow, like fish.

It just irks me that I feel like I can do better, and then I realize that Iím not. The mediocre dude who puts out tons of stuff will get more work than the genius that writes a book every ten years.

I need to do more shit, blah blah blah. Weíve all heard this before, letís keep going, shall we?

All in all, I hope the people who made Underworld get taken to the cleaners by White Wolf (who have sued them for plagiarism of their World of Darkness role-playing game system). I think anyone who has done WOD stuff and seen this movie can tell you that the stylistic elements are obvious, not to mention the fact that the actual story is a copy of a WOD adventure. A PDF of the actual complaint is floating around on the net, and it lists (for about three pages) the similarities between the movie and the White Wolf stuff. Go get ëem boys.

Speaking of evil shit, one of the funniest comics Iíve come across at work thus far: ìCannibal Porn.î No, I didnít read ìCannibal Porn,î but I look forward to reading ìCannibal Pornî soon. Why do I keep saying ìCannibal Porn?î Because I want crazy people who are searching on-line for ìCannibal Pornî to be brought here, since I enjoy disappointing people. Hello, disappointed crazy people! If it wasnít for disappointment I wouldnít have any appointment.

Work is a magic roller coaster. Thatís pretty much all I can say about it. Itís definitely fun, and apparently I definitely donít mind spending 40+ hours a week there, even when Iím only getting paid for 40 hours. Thatís a sign that I like my job (or that I have severe mental problems), I suppose. I spent more time today on a ladder and teetering off of shelf edges than anybody with the severe fear of heights that I have should.

Every night at 11 I tell myself ìIf Adult Swim is showing episodes of ìFamily Guyî and ìFuturamaî that Iíve seen before, Iím going to turn the TV off and do something else.î Tick tock, Clarice, tick tock. Itís almost 11, what will I do? Youíd think Iíd stop watching those shows altogether because I donít think there are episodes I havenít seen, but stillÖitís funny. And the seven-leaf clover episode of ìFuturamaî is perhaps one of the sweetest ever. Maybe even sweeter than the ìFry Makes a Deal With the Robot Devil to Trade Hands So He Can Learn to Play the Holophoner So He Can Win Leelaís Loveî episode.

Seriously.

Robot devil, I remainÖ