Finally! Some clarification on the preposition debate

One year I gave my friend Helen a birthday card that incorporated this grammatical joke.

Scene: Two women who appear to be college students talking in a restaurant.
Woman #1: What time is the party at?
Woman #2: Don’t end a sentence with a preposition.
Open up the card for the punchline, same picture.
Woman #1: What time is the party at, bitch?

Leave it to the wonderful editors at Webster.com to finally put this misnomer to rest! For years I have been wasting the energy to dodge this as often as I feasibly could, assuming it was the correct method like writing in the active voice and cutting down on prepositional phrases when adjectives or possessive pronouns were more efficient. (Maybe I need more work on my run-on sentences.)

Now with Webster’s blessing, I feel somewhat better about my writing style and my irritation at Latin has been raised a tad.

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Mojo Nixon & the Toad Liquors

Another artist from my generation’s shared experience (many remember his brief time on MTV in the late Eighties and novelty hits, a redneck version of “Weird Al”). I kept up with him yet I always heard, “He’s still around?” Technically, Mojo never really went away. He continued to make albums, tour, appear in movies, do voice work in videogames and host his own showcase at SXSW through the Nineties and beyond. Mojo’s main gig lately is hosting his own segments on an XM-Sirius channel. However he retired a few years ago from performing live but made an exception to raise money for Kinky Friedman’s rather disastrous Texas gubernatorial campaign in 2006.

This week, Mojo staged a brief comeback tour which was exclusive to the Lone Star state (Dallas, Austin and Houston). Then I figure he’ll retire again. The logic I was given last month when I called about his appearance at the Continental Club went like so; You can’t have a comeback unless you retire first. Makes sense. The Who have been pulling this stunt since 1982.

I was pretty stoked to see him again because the last time was at Antone’s in 1995 and after reading his online goodbye letter in 2004, I was heartbroken due to my own personal encounter with him in 1989.

Mojo took the stage at midnight and kicked off with “Debbie Gibson.” He kept the lyrics the same; lesser performers would’ve changed out Debbie for Lindsey Lohan and Rick Astley for Clay Aiken. His longtime back-up band the Toad Liquors were present to assist on other faves: “Louisiana Liplock,” “You Can’t Kill Me,” “Drunk Divorced Floozy,” “The Ballad of Country Dick,” (a tribute to the Beat Farmers’ singer, not a dirty joke) and “Are You Drinkin’ With Me Jesus?” Those are the titles which were PG-13 or safer, the rest I left out to maintain some attempt at decorum. Near the end of the set they did “Elvis is Everywhere.” If they didn’t, the Continental Club would’ve been trashed.

Beyond the musical elements, there were more F-bombs dropped than a Big Lebowski quote-along screening. Mojo was still hilarious, namely when he poked fun at his age and appearance because nestled in the crowd was a woman taping the performance for a documentary. He explained how she was going to use the footage to contrast what he looked like in 1991, back when he was a slim handsome, Rockabilly hero. Now he said he resembles the old, fat porno-watching uncle. Mojo’s (paraphrased) words, not mine.

The New Duncan Imperials warming up the gathering crowd.

Opening the concert was longtime Mojo allies/friends The New Duncan Imperials. I have heard of them for years but the only material I knew of theirs was a cover of “Convoy.” It blew my mind when the singer said their home base is Chicago; I probably pegged them for Southerners due to their Mojo associations. They were great so I scored a CD of their last release. What can I say? I have a soft spot in my heart for prankster bands like them, early Camper Van Beethoven, Thelonious Monster and Wild Kingdom. After the show, I had an informative conversation with TDI’s bassist Kenn. Discovered he’s the president of Pravda (music) which released several cover compilations a la K-Tel Records in the Nineties I love: they were primarily Seventies tunes done by contemporary acts of the day (Trip Shakespeare, Smithereens, SCOTS, Posies, Young Fresh Fellows, John Wesley Harding, Dash Rip Rock, Reivers, Material Issue, King Missile, Uncle Tupelo, Shadowy Men on a Shadowy Planet and Goober & the Peas, some little band with Jack White). He told me about how Billy Corgan raised a legal stink over the “Jackie Blue” contribution once Smashing Pumpkins got famous. Kenn already had me on his side since I think Corgan is a has-been crybaby.

I did get some face time with Mojo and kept it brief. Others wanted to talk to him which was cool. The evening was rapidly approaching 2:30 AM too. I’m primarily glad I have this photo of us to join my growing Brushes collection.

Great googly moogly we're old but we're still sexy!

Posted in Brushes with Greatness, Music | 1 Comment

Las Vegas ’11 is set and starts in 100 days

The main barrier to taking our trip from June 7-14 was removed yesterday. Now we have our plane tickets, rental car and room set. Next up, watching for shows passing through Sin City when we’re there and collecting everyone’s bets. Some of you owe me Comments in exchange for your losses. Don’t make me send Chili Palmer to have a conversation.

Meanwhile, I am willing to grant debt forgiveness for good ideas on what to see or do. Right now I get this out of the way, don’t bother with Boulder Dam (what the GOP renamed Hoover, a president with infamous, failed economic policies).

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Happy 175th Birthday Winslow Homer

I’m not sure if he belongs to any particular movement like Van Gogh or Dali, I just remember liking Homer’s work because I recognized it easily in grade school. When I attended St. Agnes, this nice man who worked for the Illinois government (probably from the antiquities research department)  would come to my class once a month for a brief art history lesson. A favorite Homer painting he showed was Snap the Whip which I found pretty cool. Here was a slice of American life in the 19th century which wasn’t a battle, a self-portrait or the painter’s mistress. Heck it could’ve been a scene from Tom Sawyer with how well he captured the details.

Another thing which made a lasting impression on me was an anecdote the nice man provided about Homer’s sense of humor. I may have some details wrong because 30 years have passed since I heard this but here’s the gist. One Fall he bought some apple cider in a barrel and put it under his house to freeze it. Through this process all the good stuff got coagulated in the center. Homer then drilled a hole to drain the concentrate out for himself. Afterwards, he gave the melted remnants to a nephew who came back to tell the artist how awful the cider was. Not exactly a knee slapper, yet I could imagine my grandpa doing the same prank.

Years later I discovered his wit when he debuted The Gulf Stream at a public showing. Homer’s realistic style and eye for detail depicting the man’s crisis with the sharks horrified some women. He later told the audience not to worry, the man was rescued later by a passing ship.

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Sherlock Holmes

Last week I read the announcement on the Onion about the sequel’s title so I had to really get cracking about our recent viewing of this via Netflix. It wasn’t part of my being stuck at home, nursing my ugly sinus infection marathon since it was on DVD.

Guy Ritchie takes a radical departure with the world’s most famous detective team by making the characters more physical, like a Victorian Era Batman and Robin. I’ve never read the novels, just a short story in grade school so my perceptions are more colored by Basil Rathbone who played a cerebral Holmes in 12 films; thus every other portrayal by Peter Cushing, Tom Baker, Brent Spiner as the android Data and the rest followed Rathbone’s interpretation. Not Robert Downey. His Holmes gets into fisticuffs for the hell of it.

Jude Law’s Watson is no slouch sidekick re-affirming Holmes’ amazing discoveries during their investigations. Here he’s a competent detective, skilled unarmed fighter and a source of stability for the rather neurotic Holmes. At times they’re engaged in friendly competitions over who can find key clues to solve the cases they undertake.

To kick off what may be a new ongoing franchise for Warner Brothers, Holmes and Watson begin the story by capturing a murderous cult leader named Lord Blackwood. This Blackwood claims to have immense magical powers which the heroes don’t believe because Science has proven such things to be nonsense. So the villain is executed, declared dead by Watson and buried, thus making this appear to be a short movie or one in which Moriarty will take over as the primary nemesis. Instead Blackwood rises from the dead, leaves his tomb in a dramatic fashion and proceeds to murder some very specific victims. Should word of this get out, London will freak out. That’s as far as I’ll take it otherwise it delves into spoiler territory.

Overall I did like it, not for the action but for the resolution. Back in 1999 Tim Burton started with a similar approach in his take on Sleepy Hollow; Johnny Depp’s Ichabod Crane was a constable from New York, instead of a teacher, sent to figure out some gruesome murders taking place around the infamous community. Crane used the tools from the Age of Reason to debunk the Headless Horseman as superstition. It was an awesome premise Reason/Science versus Magic/Superstition. Sadly, Burton painted himself into a corner, couldn’t find a resolution and went with a lazy solution…Crane’s mother was really a witch, therefore magic was required to defeat the villains. Holmes sticks to its guns despite the revelations having a Scooby-Doo aroma.

Ritchie’s rapid-fire action and observation sequences were pretty new back with his past work Snatch and Lock, Stock and Two Smoking Barrels ten years ago. Today I found them rather routine since you’ll see similar techniques used on the audience with the shows Psych and the current run of Doctor Who. These may help you “see” the gears turning in Holmes’ head but the novelty wore off for me through lesser imitators.

Sherlock Holmes remains worth watching as a demonstration of how London, not Hollywood, successfully re-invented a revered institutional character.

2085

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Vegas ’11, Stage One under way

Matters at home have stabilized enough for us to go forward with our plans to take a vacation soon. Hell, I needed it a while ago, especially when the crappy weather hit. We were going put things to together sooner but as you know the cold wave pushed it back: see if the pipes burst (so far, no), get well and just a general feeling of malaise. I also pressed to make sure this trip didn’t interfere with the possibility of my Stars going all the way to the Calder Cup again. Hell, if Dallas gets it together, the Stanley Cup could make it to Texas again…as the Flyers raise it! This would be sweet because the first thing I will do when we arrive in Vegas is collect my $150 and send a picture to all the Broad Street haters saying “Suck It!” Especially to the fans of a certain crybaby city whose team wasn’t designed to last thanks to its bloated payroll; they got dissected while mine is predominantly intact, the only major player we moved was Simon Gagne due to his injuries not salary.

I got off track, sorry. Stage One started this afternoon, picking the dates and securing the time off from work. Somara succeeded easily which was mind boggling. Scoring a Saturday can be a Herculean effort since she supports a consumer-level product: customers for it call more often on weekends. I could only land the first half. The latter is blocked out and is being investigated as an exception. We don’t consider it a sealed deal so until I get a guarantee the remaining arrangements are on hold.

What shall we do this time out? We’re open to suggestions yet we’re are certain about the Pinball Hall of Fame, the Las Vegas Gun Store to shoot zombies, breakfast at Paris and dinner at Bellagio. It’s too early on the Rock Concert front to see what to see musically. Somara is researching a trained-cat show.

More as it happens and soon a countdown!

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1980: Miracle on Ice Day!

The USA’s upset victory over the USSR in hockey was 31 years ago today.

This cool event just has me jonsin’ for live games as my (AHL) Stars remain on the road until Sunday. Currently their 3-2-0-0 streak is decent. At least the two losses were with the Monsters who are not a divisional foe.

More non-hockey stuff will be coming since I have the iCal part of the server fixed, all that remains now are the Wikis.

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Maggi Picayune is back despite AT&T’s “misgivings”

Obviously my site was offline this weekend courtesy of AT&T’s sales people not knowing crap about their own product. In the corporation’s defense, the technical people (Troy who did the upgrade and Vern, the tier two in Dallas) were fantastic and they apologized for the incorrect claims from sales.

What went wrong? The order had the wrong telephone number, lacked my request for static IPs and the monthly bill will be more than promised. Pretty par for the course with AT&T when it comes to broadband. Hence why I put this off.

The upgrade elements went successfully: a new connection to the slam with some device that communicates over higher frequencies, a new router (TwoWire sadly but I turned off the wireless to stick with my Apple-based solution) and the speed has been decent. Troy was able to get the order amended to bring back my five static IPs yet I lost the five I’ve had for almost a decade. Once Troy and Vern got everything cleaned up, I had to reinstall the OS on my server because you cannot change the IP without a ton of grief. Instead I traded it for a lesser amount.

This evening my friend Jeremy got the WordPress back into place since I’m not very skilled at implementing the PHP and SQL involved. QTSS and Address Book was a breeze. The Wiki and iCal need more effort through co-workers.

Anyway, welcome back! Thanks for your patience. I hope you keep reading, enjoying and (eventually) posting.

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Happy Birthday Sheila

Wherever she may be because I miss her and I was hoping one day I’d get to meet her children. In return, Somara would finally meet Sheila which remains important to me.

Last I knew, she resides in Austin of all places. Why? I recall her talking crap about the city through an anecdote about a visit in the Nineties when she was a resident of Houston. I was surprised Sheila wasn’t living in San Francisco.

Anyway, I wish her well and hope one day we’ll met in person again. Austin isn’t that big of a place. The odds are inevitable we’ll run into each other, they would only improve if I bothered to attend Marquette nonsense, Sheila was always more patriotic than I was.

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2001: Chez Maggi gets started

Home ownership was something I never imagined myself ever getting into. After all the headaches I witnessed my parents enduring through Reagan’s recovery, real estate felt more like a disease; buying was easy, selling was a nightmare. This perception also colored what I saw happening to co-workers (this one guy I worked with took a beating unloading his place in Maryland), neighbors (good luck selling in Beulah, ND) and friends. Why take on something so expensive when it’ll transform into an anchor around one’s neck in several years. I thought apartment living was fine. There were its hassles (crappy neighbors, especially the ones who wear cutoffs in the pool…White Trash Chic!) but the stronger tradeoff was mobility, I was in the running to be a Mac Genius for Chicago’s first Apple Store until Somara expressed her disdain over the Windy City.

My position had softened a tad, namely when Kris showed me the place she was having built in Round Rock circa 1998. It was her pitch to stick with Apple over the cushier, lower-paying gig at UT I was being enticed to take.

Around this time a decade ago I started entertaining thoughts of buying a house. My job at Apple was solidifying into a steady matter, same goes with Somara. Jose took the plunge in 1995 and I had a great time crashing there, it didn’t seem to interfere with his bachelor lifestyle. Plus moving practically every year since I was 14 had starting taking its toll; from 1997-2000 I changed addresses seven times!

The first logical location I considered was Austin’s East Side. When I originally moved here in 1994, it was the crappy yet affordable area. Like all cities, the poor had been corralled there since Mueller Airport was at its heart. This shifted around 1999 with the conversion of Bergstrom AFB into the new international civilian airport. I figured now was the time to get on the ground floor before full-blown gentrification would pump the prices to Hyde Park levels. Somara and I made a couple half-hearted efforts but nothing really got rolling.

Then I caught a billboard on the way home from a shift at Kenny’s in Round Rock one Sunday afternoon. It said houses from the $120’s around Pflugerville. Using the simple formula of multiplying my gross income by three and figuring Somara’s salary would make a good, safe buffer, I passed the first hurdle. So I went to the model house to inquire. The lady probably thought I wasn’t serious because I still wearing my coffee shop attire. I cajoled her into giving me a ballpark figure on the cheapest thing this development was offering…$1000/month which included the annual property taxes. The gray matter now started doing the math for simple rule number two, don’t let this exceed 30 percent of my monthly income. Here it was going to be close but Somara’s contribution was enough to succeed. Should our relationship tank, I figured I would rent a room out as Jose had done for years. I told the agent to put me on file, I was interested.

Normally I never gave P-vile much credit. It was on the other side of I-35 when I lived along Wells Branch with Bill and Garrett. The town’s HEB was conveniently nearby and that’s about all she wrote. This development called Sarah’s Creek seemed fair. The proposed batch of houses were within a mile of I-35 and less 10 than from Apple so I knew I wasn’t trading a long-ass drive for an affordable home. (Our current apartment was down the street from work and sat right on 183.) Thus, I figured I’d grow to handle Austin’s first northern suburb. At least it was in ‘Librul’ Travis County’s 10th Congressional District.

Somara’s reaction was surprisingly shocked. I guess she had me pegged for a gypsy because of my numerous, recent moves. We had two cats though and the deposits we had to pay for Molly and Wicca were irksome. It didn’t take long to get Somara onboard with all the positive aspects after we saw the square footage this house had over the current, two-bedroom/two-bathroom apartment.

The land rush came sooner than I expected. It was a phone call from the agent telling me to have $500 ready for a deposit and arrive early to lay dibs on the lots being put up for grabs. Here I was lucky. The 16th competitor got jacked on his/her house’s final price by at least a grand and this repeated for every 15 buyers. A rather dumb system in my opinion. I’d say lower it every 15 instead for these people received fewer choices. Anyway, I was in the first 15 group and tried to snag lot number 13 but I was denied it because someone else had my design choice nearby. I jumped over to 49 figured seven squared sounded nice, success!

A week or two later came the initial planning stages. Which brick color? Which door color? Windows? Garage-door opener? Cable-TV coaxial? Chimney? Ceiling fans? Overall my answers, the baseline or cheapest please. The objective was to keep this house at three times my gross pay or less. We answered all the necessary stuff so the slab could be poured and we’d have a second consultation for the interior around May.

Sometime in early March we snuck into the construction site to see the foundation. Somara noted how small it appeared. I convinced her that things would change when the walls go up, they create the illusion of space. As for me, I was stoked as well terrified on what was going to be my first house.

It all ended up taking a backseat in mid-March with my last journey to Central Illinois which I blather about next month.

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The Political Mind by George Lakoff

Because I’m tired of working for candidates who make me think that I should be embarrassed to believe what I believe, Sam! I’m tired of getting them elected! We all need some therapy, because somebody came along and said, “Liberal means soft on crime, soft on drugs, soft on Communism, soft on defense, and we’re gonna tax you back to the Stone Age because people shouldn’t have to go to work if they don’t want to!” And instead of saying, “Well, excuse me, you right-wing, reactionary, xenophobic, homophobic, anti-education, anti-choice, pro-gun, Leave It To Beaver trip back to the Fifties…!”, we cowered in the corner, and said, “Please. Don’t. Hurt. Me.” No more. I really don’t care who’s right, who’s wrong. We’re both right. We’re both wrong. Let’s have two parties, huh? What do you say?

I chose to kick off with a quote from the show West Wing for several reasons.

  1. As of now, President Obama is practically capitulating to the GOP on all the key issues a la Clinton, the last DINO president. And yes, I do know how the division of power works with the American government. That’s a discussion for another day if anyone is interested.
  2. Lakoff is driving home the same points made by Massey and Reich in their books during the Bush II years. Liberals need to take control of their label and stop letting the GOP/Conservatives/Teabaggers define it to their ends. I found it similar to Alterman’s book about the opposition “working the refs.”
  3. Most importantly, words and their connotations are everything. Lakoff uses more technical terms to his argument because he’s a professor of Cognitive Sciences and Language.

The copy I bought was published in 2008 and was mostly written around 2007 (the paperback probably has some amendments). This matters since the author points to the death of Anna Nicole Smith to illustrate the use of narratives, which are then broken up into smaller units called frames or scripts. What does she have to do with politics? According to Lakoff and David Rieff, everything. Through cultural narratives, she is either a rags-to-riches success ending in a tragic death or a sleazy gold-digger who overdosed. The microcosm of her life acts as the foundation for expounding other larger, more complex narratives: the Gulf War readily comes to mind.

So where’s the problem? Conservatives know how to use narratives very well. Never mind they’ve conned the majority into two endless, bankrupting wars; prevented a sound energy policy (the oil will run out); let public infrastructure rot while selling it to private interests (Austin’s new tollway is currently owned by the Spanish corporation Cintra); and spread dozens of myths which work against the citizenry’s interests.

Meanwhile, the Liberal response has often remained with sticking to the emotionally detached use of reason, facts and old strategies from the 18th century’s Enlightenment. Eventually the electorate will wise up, become rational and come around to the best choice. Screw that! Facts and figures are meaningless without passion. This is why Gore couldn’t seal the deal to make Florida irrelevant while Truman won by a larger than “expected” margin. Besides, most Americans continue to have an irrational hatred of intelligent politicians and intellectuals after McCarthyism poisoned the country. Notice how Adlai Stevenson, Michael Dukakis, Jimmy Carter and Al Gore got branded the derogatory term…wonk.

I disagree on the past tactics. Conservatives such as Buckley more often followed the same pattern of thinking Lakoff is criticizing. The difference is that he and his ilk were gradually marginalized, then pushed out by Goldwater, Nixon, Reagan and the Right-Wing Noise Machine. Winning became more important than facts, good governance, fairness or justice. Notice how Nelson Rockerfeller disappeared from the GOP mythos.

Back to the Science behind the book. Chapter by chapter, there are explanations on how the brain works through his frames model. It certainly appears to be an uphill battle after 30 years of the Conservatives’ lies and stereotypes; my favorite has always been the Cadillac-driving welfare queen, Reagan’s doublespeak for “Blacks are ruining America!” Their narrative has grown very entrenched in the American political conversation; their connotations tend to be the definitions as the you’ll hear numerous crap questions in any debate regarding immigration, defense or fiscal policy.

Is all lost? Of course not but it’s going to be a long-term fight. The key weapon to counter the Conservatives is empathy. Humans are mentally wired this way. If we weren’t we would not build communities. This is a stumper for the Ayn Rand worshippers to answer. Empathy can combat the Conservatives’ primary tool authority.

An example in my life has been arguing with an ex-friend who always believes poverty is a moral failing, namely the mortgage mess. “They shouldn’t have borrowed money for a house they couldn’t afford! I don’t think I have to clean up their mess.” Never mind how he always overlooks the party responsible for loaning the money in the first place…banks. Didn’t their loan officers, accountants and other experts research the financial solvency of these people? Credit reports? No wait, the banks found a way to make billions in fees and then sweep the inevitable crisis under the proverbial rug knowing the government they bought through K Street would pass the bill on. This does present a hard choice. Through his authoritarian mindset, the ex-friend says a sizable percentage of the country should be allowed to collapse; it could be as bad as one in five households. Somehow he thinks he’s immune because he has a job, he has a house, etc. By his flawed logic, if he were alive when the Bubonic Plague ravaged Medieval Europe, he would also believe that his wealth and Christian faith would protect him from dying in a grisly fashion.

Through my counter of empathy, I have argued how it would be wiser in the long term to adjust the terms on as many mortgages as possible to lessen the severity. Then the regulations and oversight, which were weakened during the Eighties and Nineties, are given their teeth back to avert future meltdowns. Financial experts agree with me: Allan Sloan makes this point; or as he once taught me on his radio segment, smart lenders will work something out because they have nothing to gain from the customers’ failures.

Again, Lakoff makes the overall point again and again. His language is quite technical. It’s probably better understood by those with advanced communication degrees (namely the Chomsky school) or recent Psychology graduates. I still highly recommend it to my friends in my political camp. Those friends who have succumbed to Angry Irrational White People Disease…it’s a waste of their time and mine. Much like I won’t waste a calorie on Glenn Beck’s “proof” (really what his ghost writers scribble) about the deficit.

Posted in Biology, Books, Reviews, Science & Technology | Tagged | Leave a comment

RIP Ken Mars

Today’s audiences will remember him as the kind German ranch owner from Malcolm in the Middle. No matter how much the older brother Francis screwed up, Otto let it slide until he was written out for the last couple seasons.

Ken’s best and biggest legacy is with Mel Brooks. The first being the German soldier who penned Spring for Hitler in The Producers; the original is much funnier since it isn’t so forced as Mel’s re-imagined musical. His other was the constable from Young Frankenstein with his quote, “A riot is un ugly thing…it’s about time we had one!”

Sure he did many, many roles, some were even dramatic spots but it’s the funny, goofy stuff that will always stand out including the mediocre Yellowbeard. Ken was great as the cruel Mr. Crisp, an officer who handled any possible deserters on the ship when he laid down the Captain’s ground rules:

Mr. Crisp: Anyone here who doesn’t want to be in his majesty’s royal navy?
Volunteer: (steps forward) I don’t.
Mr Crisp: (shoots the volunteer) Anyone else who doesn’t want to be his majesty’s royal navy?

Farewell to a great supporting player/second banana.

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1991: Smartest. Valentine’s Day. Ever.

Living through Bush the First’s Recession as an underemployed college graduate had become routine by the time this holiday rolled around. I have fond memories of these days despite the horrific Milwaukee Winter: hours spent listening to my music collection (puny compared to today), enjoying TV at Jose or Carrie’s apartment and staying up until 3 AM reading paperbacks with the BBC World Service as background “noise.”

The last activity was the best. After my shift at the Milwaukee Sentinel ended at midnight, I’d bundle up for the freezing 10-block, uphill trek home. Sometimes I’d catch the bus along Wisconsin Avenue or just hoof it along Wells. As soon as I was in my awesome studio apartment, the kettle would be started for tea, the stereo was tuned in to WUWM and I was nose deep in some book I had put off for years: Ringworld, The Handmaid’s Tale, Declarations of Independence, 1984 and The Mote in God’s Eye readily come to mind. I may have been financially poor but I was having a great time.

At other times not having much money could be a bitch, especially when it involved my girlfriend. There were days Carrie was an unsympathetic nuisance over the issue. Believe me, I wish I had a decent-paying job so we could go out to dinner, see a first-run movie and hit the bars/clubs. Her insistence made it worse. Never mind that she was employed, I was expected to pony up for both our social lives. One Saturday night she grudgingly paid the tab on a couple pitchers of beer at Landmark Lanes just to break the monotony; sitting around her place on my only guaranteed evening off was starting to bore her.

However, I knew Valentine’s Day was important. If I screwed that up, there would be numerous unpleasant days to follow with Carrie. So I made sure I bought several roses in advance at the floral shop in Grand Avenue Mall and didn’t give it much thought beyond how many comic books it cost me.

Come February 14 I was vindicated beyond my expectations! There was a line half-way up the block thanks to all those procrastinators. When I showed my receipt, I was allowed to cut ahead and boy did I get a dozen stinkeyes from the crowd as I left. Planning paid off yet I couldn’t help feeling a tad smug.

The roses went over successfully, Carrie remained my girlfriend without fighting for another several weeks. I just took the preparedness lesson to heart when it came to this Hallmark-induced bullshit holiday.

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Dyslexic Engrish?

Arrr! You be the judge matey…or padre…or Spot.

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Exterminate!

An awesome fandom shirt from Teefury showing the Doctor’s most famous mechanical nemesis standing over the carnage of Pop Culture’s most famous robots, cyborgs and vehicles. To split hairs, Daleks aren’t robots though. They’re probably closer the cyborg family since the pepperpot body is more like an armored car or tank containing this creepy little hateful organism driven to kill anything which isn’t pure as it is. You know, it’s an armed, portable receptacle for the raw essences of Ann Coulter, Michelle Bachmann, Rush Limbaugh and Glenn Beck. I know half would kill Bender since he’s Mexican (technically manufactured there).

Due to the wrinkles from me wearing the shirt, you can’t see all the victims. I did write to the artist who kindly provided an answer key. I was going to have a contest to name them but I want to test my friends’ memory/fandom skills not their abilities to “cheat” through Google or other search engines. I managed to get the majority, those I didn’t know are in highlighted in red.

  • C-3PO (See Threepio)
  • R2-D2 (Artoo Deetoo)
  • Robocop
  • Bender B. Rodriguez
  • V.I.N.C.E.N.T. from The Black Hole
  • Robby the Robot from Forbidden Planet but has appeared in Lost in Space, The Twilight Zone and Mork & Mindy.
  • Voltron, the lion version
  • Rosie from The Jetsons
  • WALL•E
  • GLaDOS from the videogame Portal
  • The NES Gyromite which used to come with the first Nintendo system to get US/Canadian retailers to carry it; videogames were poison so Nintendo emphasized the accessory part as a robot toy until the market was safe again.

What I thought I saw but I was wrong:

  • Johnny/Number 5 from Short Circuit
  • Robot from Lost in Space (Sixties TV version)
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