The Bifurcation

The Red-Envelope Diaries

Tue, 25 Sep 2007 06:00:05 GMT

(crossposted from DSI Forums for reasons similar to the whole Church and State issue):

Having signed up for a 1-disc-at-a-time NETFLIX subscription (to get a free laptop, cross-fingers-cross-fingers), I believe it is time we knew exactly what horrors and wonders lurk in the depths of the world's foremost rent-by-mail service (well, except for WeeklyRussianBridalPost, but they're a niche market).

WEEK 1:
Having entered all of my preferences and created a relatively short 40-disc list last Monday, I received Zardoz in the mail last Tuesday.

ZARDOZ (1974): In this cult favorite from John Boorman (Beyond Rangoon), 23rd century society is split into two castes -- the overly civilized Eternals and the barely civilized Brutals -- one of which is constantly controlling the other. The Brutals worship a huge stone figure known as Zardoz. When Zed (Sean Connery) begins to question the authenticity of this god, the film is able to offer some pointed commentary on class structure and religion.

I have heard (from reliable sources) that Zardoz is one of the Worst sci-fi movies ever made. Thus, I must watch it. (Actually, it probably means I must buy it, but for some reason, I've gone all thrifty in this instance.)

Regardless, it's a must-see, if only because Sean Connery apparently rushes at a Burt-Reynolds-lookalike frat some time during the movie.

Oh, hazing. Is there anything you can't demean?

Back to NETFLIX however. The disc arrived on Tuesday alright, but it didn't arrive "all right." In fact, the DVD wasn't just scratched or grimy, it was broken. There was an enormous crack that went all the way through the disc. I immediately filled out the online Damaged Disc form and mailed it back Wednesday afternoon. Thursday, they let me know they'd received it and that the Raleigh NETFLIX hub didn't have a second copy to send me for Friday (I'd actually have been more disappointed in them if they did own two copies of Zardoz locally).

My new disc arrived from Cleveland today. It is in good condition and at least the Main Menu plays well. I await other souls than myself to join in the fun.

Doesn't it sound like a sleep aid?
.

There is no 'i' in 'team', but there is one in 'matie'

Wed, 19 Sep 2007 22:01:50 GMT

This Thursday (AKA tomorrow), I'm doing a two-man improv show with my friend Eitan. The form is monkey-prov, and the name of the group?

That's just the preview poster I made us. Sketch is making us an intro screen that I cannot wait to see. The man is an artist. Seriously. Look at Sketch's past team intro screens.

Also, it be Talk Like A Pirate Day. ARRRR!

So come see Eitan and me hepped up on Red Bull performing death-defying acts of improvisation skill.

Thursday, Sept. 20, 8PM
DSI Comedy Theater
Carr Mill Mall, Carrboro
$8, or $5 if you have a $5-ticket coupon card (which I have a stack of)
.

Cold Flue Season

Wed, 12 Sep 2007 21:29:55 GMT

My subleased townhouse has a fireplace that we've never used, so my "landlady" called the Fire Department to come inspect it so I could legally use the thing when it gets cold around here (you know, in February).

I waited around with no word until the Anti-Witching Hour (noon) when suddenly I was interrupted whilst sitting before my cold fireplace by a noise like someone playing Stars & Stripes Forever on a dollar-store digital piano. It turned out to be my cell phone, which I'd forgotten to turn back to Vibrate earlier. It was my landlady. We hadn't spoken in seven...teen hours, but she still spoke like death warmed over:

"You will be visited by a representative from the Chapel Hill Fire Department today. Expect him at 1pm. Bewaaaaaaaaaare!"

Sure enough, shortly thereafter, three spirits of the CHFD arrived. But instead of coming one after the next, they filed into my living room and the Spirit of CHFD Present inspected my fireplace while the Spirits of CHFD Past and Future stood by and --I assume-- made sure I didn't try to make a run for it.

Among the three Spirits there were two fathers and two sons (oh, the old brainteasers are the best), and CHFD Present kept asking Past for answers he already knew, and sending Future to the firetruck outside several times for forms and pamphlets and smoke detectors that it turned out we didn't need.

In the end, I discovered that the Spirits had inspected my fireplace in one afternoon (=15 minutes) as if by magic. I still had time to change my ways! To vacuum out the dust around the edges! To buy a starter log! To not die of carbon monoxide poisoning!

Oh, what a fool I'd been! I had not realized there would be an entire family of CHFD Spirits ready to invade my home at the first sign of my thinking about warming myself. Damn me; I'm such a heat miser.

.

Drive-Thru?

Wed, 12 Sep 2007 15:10:55 GMT

A throwaway parody to get it out my head.

The Cars' "Just What I Needed":

Your Table's Not Ready
by Kit FitzSimons
I don't mind you eating here;
That's what a restaurant's for.
But tell me why you couldn't wait
Politely by the door?
This isn't something you decide.
None of our waiters wait that side!
I don't mind you eating here,
But please don't eat right there.

I can't read your mind from here
Here at the hostess stand.
You came in when my back was turned.
This cafe's undermanned, yeah.
It's not that we can't serve you well. No,
It's more you're there, but we can't tell.
I can't read your mind unless
I've shown you to your chair.

Won't you please wait to be seated?
(wait to be seated)
That way I'll know that you're here.
Won't you please wait to be seated?
(wait to be seated)
I can't be any more clear.

I don't mind your right to choose
Exactly where you sit, sit.
The customer is always right,
But here's what I don't get, yeah:
You sat before I saw you. Lord!
Now you complain you've been ignored.
I don't mind your right to choose,
But why not clue me in?

Won't you please wait to be seated?
(wait to be seated)
You ain't got nothing to lose.
Won't you please wait to be seated?
(wait to be seated)
While I go grab you menus?

Won't you please wait to be seated?
(wait to be seated)
You needed somewhere to feed.
Won't you please wait to be seated?
(wait to be seated)
I needed someone to lead.
Yeah, yeah, believe me.

Please wait to be seated!
Please wait to be seated!
Yeah, yeah, yeah.
.

Collaborate and Listen

Mon, 10 Sep 2007 13:42:05 GMT

Below is the image of the day on Wikipedia for Sept. 10, 2007. It's "an animated simulation of a phenakistoscope disc. The phenakistoscope is one of the first devices to create moving images and a precursor of the zoopraxiscope and, in turn, cinematography. Conceived as a simple disc to be held vertically in front of a mirror and spun around its axis, the subjects appear to be in motion when viewed through the slits of the disc."

Maybe it's just me, but I'm sitting here watching it and humming "Last Dance With Mary Jane."

Phenakistoscope
by Kit FitzSimons
"Dance with me in pictures," he said
And grabbed for her hand in stages.
"In captured instants, frozen poses,
We'll stock-still across the floor."

She was petrified by his fixation,
By the seeds of flux he'd planted.
Wound tight, she waxed ecstatic...
But desire alone couldn't move her.

"Who cares what voyeurs spy," he laughed
As she paled and stiffened at his touch.
"We'll articulate each point for them
And let their minds fill in the rest!"

He kept one hand around her waist
To cut down on the cost of animation.
She stop-motioned him to continue,
And they spun through a hall of mirrors.
.

Worse Than Its Bites

Thu, 30 Aug 2007 17:43:04 GMT

From my Livejournal's Comments section over the last few days:

xenosauridae said:
You should totally bring some Barq's Rootbeer.

kosherpickle said:
Is this a commodity in short supply, or something? Or a tithe, perhaps?

xenosauridae said:
Prepare to be shocked...that beverage is UNAVALIABLE in the whole of North Carolina.

kit27kit said:
Except at Red Robin (although perhaps even there, they've stopped serving it).

kosherpickle said:
Well, I guess I'll import some into the state, and make a tidy profit. I mean, give it to people I know that want it.

xenosauridae said:
During the Rootbeer Prohibition, one man stood up and said, "I SHALL PROFIT."
Huber stars as Huber in "The Smug Smuggler."

Anonymous said:
also available at amante's, just right across the tracks!
shutrump

Yes, yes, now that we've Number 23'ed the damn soda, it is, in fact, EVERYWHERE. Wendy's in Durham, Wendy's in Chapel Hill, Amante's Pizza, the Dollar Store, Jo-Ann's Fabric and the PTA Thrift Shop (only the Carrboro store). Nobody doesn't serve Barq's Root Beer, it springs unbidden from a fountain at Weaver Street, and it has been named Official Soda of the Triangle by the Barq's Council, located conveniently just around the corner from my apartment. Thank you to everyone who worked so hard to bring this plucky carbonated beverage to the forefront of our collective consciousness and thus to the forefront of the burgeoning Southern market.

Next up: "Hey, why doesn't anyplace sell Dunkaroos again yet? I hate how they haven't reached 'retro-due-for-relaunch' status yet."

...Ahem.

.

How I Got My Schedule Changed

Thu, 23 Aug 2007 14:12:16 GMT

So I was going to go to Dragon*Con this year. Now, unfortunately, I'm not.

Why? Because of this:

I'm in a play! An honest-to-goodness, in-an-actual-theater, completely-scripted dramatic production. It's been a while. And not only is it a play, it's a two-man play, so I'm fully half of the production. Want the information on it? I know you do.

How I Got That Story
by Amlin Gray
Directed by Paul Frellick
Featuring Kit FitzSimons and Derrick Ivey

An "embedded" war reporter tries to get a handle on a culture he doesn't know while covering a conflict he doesn't understand in this knife-edged satire. Winner of a 1982 Obie Award, this "nightmare comedy" is a "stunning theatrical achievement." (The Hollywood Reporter)

All Performances at University Mall
Estes Drive and US 15-501
Theater located directly facing Waldenbooks

August 23--September 15
Thursday Evenings at 7:30pm
Friday-Saturday Evenings at 8pm
Sunday Afternoons at 2pm
Wednesday Show, Sept 12, 7:30pm

Post-show discussions on Sunday, August 26 ("Meet the Designers") and Sunday, September 2

Tickets $16, $14 for seniors, $12 students
Thursday August 30 is "Cheap Dish Night"
..............-- $7 for all tickets August 30 only

Call 968-1515 for reservations and information

----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

I really hope a lot of you out there will be able to make it to see this. And if you're like me and tend to procrastinate if you see that many possible dates (and then wind up not being able to make it to the last weekend), then let's figure out a night you can definitely come, and the two of us will pretend that's the only night I'm performing.
.

I'm Obviously A Big AC//DC Fan

Tue, 14 Aug 2007 03:08:51 GMT

So my AC is finally back to what it's supposed to be. It was pretty miserable in my place lately; I was getting hit with a lot of heat the past few days because my AC was off.

Here's a rundown of how my AC broke down:

10 = Base AC
+3 = DEX bonus
+1 = Size modifier (due to being able to hide behind lampposts)
+1 = Dodge feat
-2 = Natural Armor (see Size modifier)
+1 = Permanenced Haste spell (on self)
+4 = Constant 'Inspire Heroics' bardic effect (on self and scene partner)
+3 = AC bonus from fans (my Vornado counts as 2)
+4 = AC bonus from Slater
+27 = AC bonus from house
(...armor bonus,
....shield bonus,
....deflection bonus,
....provides full cover,
....counts as being on full defense, etc)

Total AC = 52
Total AC for past 3 days = 25

Not great. Any decent-level heatwave would've been able to (and nearly did) take me down. I'm just lucky I don't have long hair or a need to wear hats; those would've imposed a really serious AC penalty.
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The Triumphant Return of a Vocabulary Link

Mon, 13 Aug 2007 08:19:51 GMT

The most recent triannual DSI audition was last night. I don't often walk out of an audition feeling refreshed and energized, but I did this time. Oh, sweet longform, you radiant dewdrop on the grass-blade of my life, how I long to once again drink of your matutinal damp.

...um, yeah.

So it felt pretty good to get revved up by an audition, not to pace back and forth in front of a mirror, attempting to convince myself that "it wasn't as bad as you think it was." And this audition continues the very rosy-looking trend of my having fun doing what I say I love to do so much.

I've also watched several episodes of CSI Season 7 tonight. I don't think I can say enough how awesome this show is. Hey, it usually takes a Wes Anderson movie to make me tear up, but the second episode of the season managed to get me.

Oh, meanwhile, I watched 'Date Movie' on Saturday. Continuing another trend, I enjoyed it. It's not as universally awesome as 'Epic Movie,' but then, they each embodied their respective genres, and I much prefer epic films to chick flicks. I'm now trying to figure out where they can go next in the 'series': "Action Movie"? "Caper Movie"? "Animated Movie"? "Best Movie" (the Oscar-nominee remix)? "Home Movie"?

One can only hope.
.

Tube or not Tube

Sun, 12 Aug 2007 12:57:18 GMT

My muffler has a hole in it.

My AC isn't working.

I'd ask fearfully what else was in the pipeline for me, but that'd be useless since all the pipelines in my life are breaking down.

Now how am I going to get around the Mushroom Kingdom?
.

But That's All In The Pastiche

Wed, 08 Aug 2007 08:38:48 GMT

Happy birthday, kudzita!

A litbit for you (originally found here):
I Wandered Lonely As a Cloud
There once was a poet named Will
Who tramped his way over a hill
And was speechless for hours
Over some stupid flowers...
This was years before TV, but still.

Many people have asked, "What kind of moron actually enjoys those Scary Movie/Date Movie/Epic Movie movies?" Apparently, the answer is the me kind of moron.

I just finished my torrented copy of Epic Movie, and I laughed really hard at it. Sure, there were points when it was essentially a joke tossed in just to make the reference, but seriously, Tumnus' house as an episode of Cribs? Hermione with herpes? Darrell Hammond as Captain Jack Swallows? The entire final battle after the huge surprise turning point? Oh god. I love these things.

Now, I will say I don't own the DVDs of any of the Scary Movie series. I don't feel like they pop enough to actually get me to buy them. However, I am proud to own both 'Not Another Teen Movie' and 'My Big Fat Independent Movie,' which attain a level of comedy that 'Epic Movie' definitely reaches.

I have a very puerile sense of humor; I freely admit that. I don't laugh at an overload of fart/piss jokes, but sprinkling in a few is fine. The same goes for Fred Willard, and 'Epic Movie' managed to give me just enough to nod my head in wry amusement, then quickly kill him off so I could enjoy the rest of the film.

So rah-rah for 'Epic Movie'... I guess this means I need to buy it after all. And see 'Date Movie', I suppose. Congratulations, Alyson Hannigan, it's your lucky day.
.

Say boo, Cebu!

Mon, 30 Jul 2007 19:36:12 GMT

Jailbirds of the Philippines reenact Thriller:

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=hMnk7lh9M3o&eurl

(embedding was disabled for this video or I'd just put it here)
.

Life Is But Xtreme

Thu, 26 Jul 2007 21:58:23 GMT

So March came and went,
and you wondered where it was...
well, wonder no more!

The day has finally come...

It's the 2007 Tuesday Morning Awards!

With your host, Simon FitzKit...In the Field!

Presented by Nikon (makers of fine cameras that I own everywhere), and sponsored by

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Are you in for the long haul? Then let's kick it up a notch!

Welcome, everyone, to the 2007 Tuesday Morning Awards! I'm your host, Simon FitzKit...In the Field!, and I'd like to personally thank my local Pontiac dealership, without whose slow service and half-mile proximity to a Tuesday Morning (i.e. 'walking distance') this year's Timmys would never have gotten off the ground.

Of course, we can't have the Tuesday Morning Awards without Tuesday Morning, so let's give it a big round of applause. Tuesday Morning, everyone: the knick-knack caddy shack that won't leave you alone. Without it, housewives would only be able to brag about getting stuff 80% off during holidays and Fire Sales.

Now, an important note: This Year might be the last Tuesday Morning Awards ever.

Unfortunately, in the course of standing in the store, taking pictures of the merchandise, I was approached by the floor manager and the security chief, who informed me that photography was "not okay in the store," and that "Management really frowns on that." Then I was escorted out of the store.

So while we're at it, a quick round of applause in the direction of the people actually working at Tuesday Morning, without whom, we couldn't ring up our purchases, but also without whom, I'd be able to make fun of the purchases of others. Anyway, with that doom and gloom out in the open, let's Let's kick these awards off right by re-revealing the statuette all the winners receive: the Tuesday Morning Icon!

The Timmy: the most coveted of all the independently made-up awards-show trophies.

Now, let's get on to our first Timmy of the morning:
Most Disturbing Doll

The Most Disturbing Doll Award goes to the female version of the action figure that is lewd, crude, lascivious, dirty, or just Out There to the point that you really don't want to contemplate the type of little girl who'd actually want to play with it.

This year's winner of Most Disturbing Doll is a girl in a duck suit.
But not a normal one, with a bill to go over her nose.
No, this is one of those "I'm-dressed-up-as-an-animal-in-that-
this-creature-is-eating-me-feet-first-and-you're-seeing-my-
last-expression-before-my-head-disappears-down-its-gullet" costumes.

My question is, why go out of your way to make its --her-- face so simplistic? It's like the makers were trying to make an optical illusion doll.

"Oh, I know! What about a doll whose head makes just as much sense upside-down as right-side-up!"

(Shudder. Why did I willingly make that thing more disturbing than it already was?)

"It's like Papa Oompa Loompa or something! Hey, while we're at it, let's give it --her-- a jumper so tight, it gives it --her-- camel toe! That's realism, that is! Kids love realism!"

So with pedophilic manufacturers hopefully behind bars, we move on to another manufacturer's wet dream:
Worst Niche Market

This award celebrates those products that don't just play to the lowest common denominator, but go one step further and advertise to the metaphoric prime numbers, those dead-end demographics that no one should ever be concerned with, but that somebody somewhere apparently is.

The winner of this year's Worst Niche Market is miniExecutive Desktop Games.

Let's cut right to the chase. Though the niche market of executives who want desktop games is decent, the niche market of executives who want to play Shoddy Solitaire Soccer is minuscule...but that's not enough to win the award. No, that honor is from the Age Range in the corner. This desktop game is for Executives ages 6 and up.

Child Labor Laws would like to thank all the little people who made this possible.

Now it's on to a fan-favorite category:
The Why's It Plush? Award

The Why's It Plush? Award goes to the product that is the cuddliest and most huggable...with the least reason. Examples include plush electrical sockets, plush receipts and plush Listerine. Anything that has no right being squeezably soft.

But that's not the furthest limit of The Why's It Plush Award, as shown by this year's winner:

Awww, a cutesy widdle bwue beaw. But wait!
That makes sense being plush, Kit!
It's easily hugged, right?

Wrong.

When gathered together, this blanket could pass as a bear in a long dress, I suppose, but in my mind, it would just resemble Ursula from The Little Mermaid.

And when laid out on the ground or on a bed, it evokes either
1) a bearskin rug crafted by an inept taxidermist
or, more likely,
2) a bear in blue quicksand

And that's not something I want to explain to a child.

"Well, no, Jason. Your teddy bear isn't dying. He's just sinking inexorably into your bed. Now lights out, and sweet dreams."

Yes, my two-year-old son would know the word 'inexorably.' This is, after all, me we're talking about.

Also, you can't hug a bear whose head's about at your waistline. Or, anyway, you uh... (...Aaaawkward.)

So far, we've stuck with the classic awards (i.e. ones that were handed out at last year's Timmys), but we've finally arrived at one of our new categories:
The We Are The World Award

The We Are The World Award, aside from being a mild-to-medium tongue-twister, is reserved for those products that best force-feed consumers the concepts of unity and togetherness, advocating common ground above --well-- common sense.

This award would therefore normally go to some tchotchke from UNITAS, but this year, it instead goes to a set of toys that really tries its damnedest to make the world a smaller place... Farm & Jungle Animals.

Though you can't really see them from this angle (and I was ejected from the store before I could get a better shot), the other side of this glass-bottom lunch box is taken up with tigers and a crocodile.

The company just couldn't think of 6 animals that come from a jungle and 6 other ones that come from a farm. Here's a hint, guys:

COW / PIG / GOAT / FARM DOG / HORSE / SHEEP

TIGER / CROCODILE / MONKEY / TAPIR / GORILLA / PANTHER

Perhaps the company's thought was: If the kid's going to play with these jungle predators, they'll probably want them to eat something, and we don't want them shoving real food into the toys to rot or mold. Let's just give them some plastic beef and pork to feed these carnivorous figures!

Of course, the company's name itself doesn't inspire confidence. Battat? Makes me think...

Also, Battat? Why precisely did you feel it necessary to go the anatomically-correct route on the cow udders and sow teats? If I turn the box over, am I going to see crocodile wang and tiger balls? We are the world, sure, but we are the children too, you know.

Speaking of children of the world, Jesus loves all the little them. And with that awkward religious segue, it's time to present the award for
Most Awkward Religious Reference

This award is meant to highlight those fundamentally flawed fundamental-Christian attempts to bring God into places where he probably has no place being (e.g. on the side of radio-controlled cars).

And now, the winner of this year's Most Awkward Religious Reference:

It's a new take on the "sugar & spice & everything nice" theory, and not a great replacement at that. Let's take this one apart:

1) That is obviously not a little girl; I've seen more girlish faces in Cathy strips. That is a middle-aged woman who's joined the downtown ballet school to regain a bit of her childhood using dozens of expensive lessons and one 80%-off pillow with a handle.

2) Little boys are therefore not made by God? Or perhaps they are, since I think that ballet model may in fact be the Burl Ives snowman from Rudolph the Red-Nosed Reindeer in make-up and a tutu.

3) No He didn't make little girls. You've got Adam (adult male) and Eve (adult female). Their children were all male, and then those were all the people God actually made. After getting kicked out of the Garden, one assumes father and three sons all got busy with Eve, or else they found 99%-human primates elsewhere who could carry their sperm to term.

...Aaaawkward... Religious. Reference.

And now, another new category, one that sort of covers many winners both this year and last, but one for which I'm making a necessary distinction:
The Counterintuitive Award

The first Timmy to include a 16-letter word, The Counterintuitive Award goes to the item that most fully goes against convention, throwing sand in the face of the muscle man who then decides to bulk down using an ad he found in his comic book. Or something.

The runner-up for The Counterintuitive Award is...

...Fly Wheels.

Rip cord + circular projectile = classic high-flying fun for the whole family, sure. But why a wheel? A motorcycle wheel too, according to the grip/handle and the label at the bottom.

When I think of rip-cord flyers, my first thought is of helicopters, whirligigs, and maybe those Faerie Flyers toys that came out in the 90s...

When I think of flying motorcycle wheels, my first thought is of a horrible accident on the highway, a lone tire blown free of the explosion, bouncing twice on the asphalt before rolling into the overturned cement mixer two lanes over... and maybe still of Faerie Flyers, but then I'm weird.

So, a bit backwards. However, there was one item that outcounterintuited Fly Wheels, and it's the winner of this year's Counterintuitive Award...

...Monster Golf. Golf, okay. Miniature golf, okay. But oversized golf? What are you supposed to shout "Eleven" on the maxiway? How long does it take to get through 80 holes? And what the hell do you need that TNT plunger for?

And why's the model wearing a serape?

Counterfuckingintuitive.

Next up, it's another new category:
Worst Simulated Sound Effects

We've all heard horrible sound effects; I remember opening one of the earliest non-Hallmark talking greeting cards at Easter. Now, at last, these purveyors of cacophony and nonsense can get the recognition they deserve in the form of the Timmy for Worst Simulated Sound Effects. And the runner-up is...

...Star*Party Tambourin.

And shhh...we'll go ahead and give them that it's spelled "tambourin."

This products very realistically simulates the noise a tambourin makes. Whyyyy?? Because some mother out there is tired of having her kids shake their instruments at all hours, leaving her no recourse. Now though, she can just turn the tambourins off.

You have to wonder about the future though, when VH1 hosts "Electronic Tambourin" Backup Singers Unplugged, and they have to make do with acoustic tambourins.

Or what about when Rock Band 2 comes out?
SONG: "Gypsies, Tramps And Thieves"
In The Style Of Cher
Player 1: Microphone
Player 2: Lead Guitar
Player 3: Bass Guitar
Player 4: Drums
Player 5: Electronic Tambourin
Player 6: Electronic Triangle
Player 7: Electronic Getting-The-Band-Water

...although you probably would want to be extra careful with your water around the Electronic Tambourin.

What could be a worse sound effect to simulate than the ching-ching of a tambouring? Why, the winner of the 2007 Timmy for Worst Simulated Sound Effects...

See'nSay Junior: Elmo!

Bugle. Check.

Cell phone. Check. (What kid would even know what a landline phone looked like, right?)

Bubbles. ...Um...check... although it's odd we're not going for the standards, like cows, pigs, tigers and crocodiles. Or, hey, Sesame Street characters? See the connection? Maybe? ...Whatever. Check.

Crayons. Okay, now you're just being stupid. I mean, hey, you've put faces on all four inanimate objects, why not have them say, like, "I'm a wind instrument commonly used in the military," or "We only have an average life expectancy of about 5-10 seconds, less if you don't blow us right."

But no, the bugle toots, the cell phone rings, the bubbles pop, and the crayons? The crayons make the noise of a squeaky cart wheel. You know, that ee-er ee-er ee-er that people make when trying to show they're wheeling in a tea tray or something?

Sheesh, the spinning arrow of a regular See'nSay better simulates the szhh-szhh-szhh that crayons make when you use them!

And speaking of Seeing and Saying, we now move to a lexicographer's favorite category:
Most Blaring Misuse of a Word

Malapropisms abound in the world of advertising, but only those found to be particularly outstanding will wind up winning The Most Blaring Misuse of Award...I mean...The Most Blaring Misuse of a Word Award. Second Runner-Up:

"Adorable" Humidifier

I'm going to go out on a limb and state that it is physically impossible to be "Adorable" while simultaneously being some kind of yellow racoon-mole hybrid shaped like a popcorn popper.

And speaking of food, First Runner-Up:

Gizmo "Plus"

The word "Plus" indicates addition, as in, "The old Gizmo grated cheese, but new Gizmo Plus grates cheese PLUS dries your hair." However, this Gizmo Plus does something completely different than the original, as in, "The old Sports Jacket covered your chest and arms, but new Sports Jacket Plus covers your feet instead (Sports Jacket not included)."

And speaking of sports, the winner of The Most Blaring Misuse of a Word Award is...

"Xtreme" Sports Spectator Kit.

Watching. Is not. "Xtreme." If we as concerned consumers let this stand (and just, you know, stand), then we will be directly responsible for the N-evitable X-treme follow-up products:

XTREME SPORTS STADIUM CONCESSIONS STAND PLAYSET!
XTREME SPORTS GETTING UP FOR A REFILL ON PRETZELS!
XTREME SPORTS SURFING THE INTERNET FOR SCORE UPDATES!
XTREME SPORTS XECUTIVE DESKTOP GAMES! (ages 6 and up)

Xtremely disappointing, guys.

And now we dive headfirst into the unknown to find the winner of
The I Have No Idea Either Award

The I Have No Idea Either Award category is designed to recognize the item that really, really suffered when they lost its Instruction Manual, the product that beguiles, bewilders and just plain boggles the mind. The Clearance shelf at Tuesday Morning (yes, even 80%-off stores have Clearance shelves) is chock-full of such anti-treasures, but there can only be one winner, and that winner is this:

THEORIES:
*A Shiatsu back-massager on a wall-mount
*An all-wooden orrery
*A spinning coat-hanger built for six
*A sparring dummy for the art of thumb-fu
*XTREME SPORTS PARAKEET PERCH
*Safety-First Sea Urchin Model
*Executive Desktop Nitrogen

Really, your guess is as good as mine.

However, not all curiosities can be that difficult to figure out. In fact, some are downright obvious. With that in mind, we present
Easiest Mystery

The winner of the Timmy for Easiest Mystery goes to the book that presents the simplest riddle, the least taxing brainteaser, or in the case of this year's winner, literally the easiest mystery.

Peter Plum: Maybe they're in Old Man PedophilicManufacturer's house.
Olivia Orange(?): Maybe they're on your face, Purpleboy.

Actually, yeah, my mystery question is harder: Which character is the Asian girl supposed to be? Clue's cast is pretty standard:
MALE: Boddy, Plum, Mustard, Green
FEMALE: Scarlet, White, Peacock

So either that girl's somehow mixed up scarlet and orange...

Wait. Purple and orange, missing glasses... I bet, just off-panel, there's a guy in an ascot, a stoner in green, and a dog with an affinity for Snacks named after himself. Oh, and Red Herring.

We're coming to the end of the show, and, having covered all the specifics, it's time for the award everybody's clamoring for:
All-Around Failure

The equivalent of Best Picture, The All-Around Failure Award relies on the product's inability, period. These products are just so sad, no other category is big enough to contain their shame. Even 'counterintuitive' isn't a big enough word to hold the winner this year, as the All-Around Failure Award goes to:

A Cheap-As-Free Lego-Ripoff.

Just...horrific. Look at those faces; they're what would happen if 50-year-old prudish women went Trick-or-Treating as Depeche Mode. It's like some toy designer at Cobi, Inc. saw that all Legos have smiles and got really frustrated that he could never have them show stark disapproval of one another's life choices.

Also, the set is called "Tipp-Kick" but 1) the only soccer ball it comes with is the one drawn on the box, and 2) I think this is supposed to be the Soccer(?) Player Gets Hounded By Paparazzi set. Oh, I apologize:
XTREME SPORTS STAR DAVID BECKHAM GETS MILDLY ANNOYED BY A CAMERAMAN WHILE THEY BOTH WALK LIKE ZOMBIES IN FROM OF WHAT APPEARS TO BE THE SKELETAL REMAINS OF THE F-TROOP FACADE!

The Press guy's shirt has the man's news agency's logo on it, and I can only assume that it's trying to get across the concept of 24-hour news. One half is a red sun, and the other half is, I guess, a midnight sun? Perhaps a Black Hole Sun? Coming to wash away the pain? If so, it's probably the pain of carrying that shoulder-mounted cannon that he's so cleverly tried to pass off as a video camera that just happens to be as tall as he is.

And really, you don't get much more failure-tastic than having all that wrong with a product and then slapping a sticker on top of the word 'fun' so it instead just says, "FU." I tell you, icing on the cake.

And there you have it, folks: The 2007 Timmys. Presented by Nikon, sponsored by Photobucket...and this year, hampered by Internal Security.

Internal Security: Making sure nobody cases the joint since 1983.

But before we go, there's one more award to give out, and that's for
Creepiest Purchase

The Creepiest Purchase Award goes to the item that stands out among its peers as, by far, the most likely conversation piece destined to wind up as a central prop in a Stephen King novel, probably coming to life or being splashed with blood in the process.

And the winner is:

Overalls: Play with us.

(Shudder) They're for putting plants in. Now why you'd want haunted overalls lining your walkway and holding your osh kosh b'gonias, is beyond me. I guess this is for the J.K.Rowling fans who really want Potter Children of their own.

And on that note, thanks, everyone, for tuning in to the Tuesday Morning Awards.

This is your host, Simon FitzKit...In the Field!, reminding you to --please-- spay and neuter your Drew Careys.

Good night.
.

Tempers Fugiunt

Fri, 20 Jul 2007 19:34:40 GMT

All Hulk can say is voice-over better not be Doc Samson.
Hulk serious; that guy, like, psychological sadist.
And now Hulk travel in time? Hulk say screw that;
Hulk hate time travel. It make Hulk split.
Time travel split Hulk into more personalities than Peter David.
Look at all Hulks. It like Hulk waiting in line with Hulkself.
It like Hulk got scared in between two mirrors.
It like Hulk is Earth during Infinite Crisis,
but that DC. Hulk smash DC.
Hulk just sort of pissed off about whole Solomon Grundy thing.
And also Bizarro thing...oh, and also Shazam thing.
Billy Batson. Bruce Banner. Serious? Serious??
What up with stealing Hulk's only three gimmicks?
Pssh. Whatever.
...When is Hulk now?
Hulk feeling slightly dizzy.
Maybe this World War Hulk idea was bad idea.
Actual, what up with Hulk having idea in first place?
Hulk not been this strategic since Pantheon days.
Hulk wonder...if...universe would mind
if Hulk just ate one of donut-hole planets.
Or maybe all of them, since all Hulks through time hungry.
Whoa...Hulk just realize all Hulks through time talking
when Hulk talking. Hulk... hehe. Huuuuuuulk. Hehe.
Hulk strongest there is. Hehehehehehehe.
......Huuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuulk. Eehehe!
Other Hulks funny. They copying Hulk.
...Wait. That not funny really. Hulk not like that.
Stop. Stop copying Hulk, Hulks! Hulk not like Hulks!
Don't make Hulk angry! No! Hulk not making Hulks angry,
Hulks making HULK angry! SHUT UP, HULKS!
Hulk is Hulk! NO! HULK IS HULK! STOP COPYING HULK!
HULK...HULK...HULK IS STUPID!
Haha, Hulks said Hulk is stupid, so they...
...Hulks say HULK is STUPID?!
HULK HIT HULK BEHIND HULK AS HARD AS HULK CAN!
HULK HIT HULK BEHIND HULK SO HARD HULK FLY INTO LAST WEEK!
HULK SMAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAASH!

... ... ...
Damn it, you idiot. Here I am trying to calm myself down,
figure a way to contact Richards or Amadeus Cho or Jennifer
or whomever, and you go and freak out again.
I would say this is like herding cats,
but I think you eat cats, so I should probably not mention them.
... ... ...

Ungh...Hulk head hurt. Hulk kind of bleary.
Who these Hulks behind Hulk? Where Hulk, little man?

... ... ...
Oh, you're listening now, are you? Miracle of useless miracles.
God, I hate my life; I'm a rational scientist, and yet somehow,
my subliminal mind keeps doing idiotic things
like getting us stuck in a temporal loop.
... ... ...

Yes. Hulk often fall into that. Hulk get mad, Hulk calm down,
Hulk get mad again because puny humans get mad at what Hulk did...

... ... ...
...What?? ...I... Oh lord.
No. Not a TEMPER loop, you pea-brain.
A TEMPORAL loop. Time travel gone wrong.
... ... ...

Oh. That.

... ... ...
Yes, 'Oh, that.' Now, would you please just keep with me for a...
... ... ...

Hello? Little man? Little man still there?

... ... ...
Oh great. And now you are gone -- back in time itself --
and you can no longer hear me, Hulk, can you? CAN YOU?!
... ... ...

All Hulk can say is voice-over better not be Doc Samson.
.

Writer's Block: Who's in your neighborhood

Wed, 18 Jul 2007 03:51:49 GMT

How well do you know your next-door neighbors?

Man, I never get tired of finding random stuff on LiveJournal. Now they're even helping people who don't know how to write a journal!

I have an entry for tonight, but I'll answer this question instead/first because I'm mildly annoyed by Everything right now.

Wi Me?
by Kit FitzSimons
Where once the stem had sprouted leaves,
Where once I delved through pages quick,
There's nought but dry and useless heaves
For my Time Warner Cable's sick.

It's true the icon still blinks green.
The wireless still bears three bars,
And yet no system that I've seen
Is less connected up than ours.

The Network tab I double-click,
Refresh once more the Network List.
Oh, ten came up! Well, take your pick;
Each one is sure to get me pissed!

These four are open. Whoop-de-doo!
Connection speed's not even there.
Password-protection? Fuck you too!
We're neighbors, shithead, why not share?

And what about my own, you ask?
The one we've titled "Awesometown"?
There's no Admin up to the task
Of telling me why it's still down.

I've searched the hardware, double-checked:
No wires crossed, no safeties breached.
It claims it's up. That's not correct!
It says the server can't be reached!

I placed a call to Tech Support.
"We don't support your tech," they said.
My router isn't theirs. In short,
To them, I might as well be dead.

And though it sets my nerves on edge,
I've drive crosstown for WiFi zones.
I'm paying for the privilege
Of never ever being home.
.

Carpe Diem Indeed

Fri, 13 Jul 2007 23:16:12 GMT

Zero internet access at home is killing my livejournal productivity. Thank goodness for Town-Of-Carrboro Wireless at the nearby Open Eye Cafe.

So, what would drag me from my apartment into public to write upon my cobweb-ridden tablet?

I randomly went to participate in a family heart study at Duke Hospitals Clinic yesterday around 1 PM. It's the kind that only has two requirements: you have a sibling who'll also participate, and you call the number on the flyer.

Well, after filling out all the relevant paperwork, I had the first tube of blood drawn for the DNA tests. As soon as the needle hit the vein, I started getting static in my head, heard a drawn-out version of the sound of a television turning on, and I lowered my head, closed my eyes...

...and opened them again as three nurses were dabbing at my forehead with a washcloth. I had passed out, apparently. Not, I should point out, a new thing for me in times of puncture wounds (or, in one instance, in times of Saw 2), but yesterday was something special.

Because while unconscious, I also apparently had a grand mal seizure.

So, yeah, they lowered me onto the nearby hospital bed, took down a more pointed medical history, and systematically began taking turns panicking me.

Within a half-hour, I had gone from a study participant to a nearly-confirmed seizure-disorder patient. The doctor said they wanted to get a neurology consult, but since I was outpatient, I'd instead need to go through the ER.

I have no health insurance at the moment, and any hope of getting in the future sort of rushed out the window if anybody had thought to write down: "Patient most likely has epilepsy."

However, yesterday's tests etc. were all covered under the cleverly worded study consent forms: "Any medical problems that arise as a direct result of the medical tests during this study will be paid for by us." Whee.

Well, my mother drove over (the doctor said I shouldn't drive home), and I meanwhile lay in the clinic waiting for a stretcher. They'd brought a wheelchair for me, but the nurse in charge (we'll call her Keela Shoal) made them take it back, saying, "He could have another seizure between here and the ER, and we don't want him hitting his head."

Oh, Keela Shoal. You cared just a bit too much. See, Keela Shoal has a 30-year-old daughter who's had grand/petit mal seizures since age 5, and she and her husband had ignored them, thinking the girl was trying to get attention, and then later, the girl had tried cocaine, and that's not so great for a grand mal seizure patient, and she's sullen and moody and for a while there, the girl was even doing the cliched mouthing the medication and spitting it in the sink later.

OH! The medication issue. While Keela Shoal was telling me this reassuring story, she was also filling me in on the only possible outcomes of the day's events.
1) They'd keep me for observation overnight or longer, and the study wouldn't cover that...and thus she wanted to set up a meeting with a social worker.
2) They'd let me go, but they'd put me on medication for the rest of my life.
3) They'd let me go, but they'd give me valium to take when the next seizure occurred.

Okay, let's take those one at a time:
1) Keela Shoal heard that I had no insurance and no job, and immediately knew my future. She said that Medicaid would possibly cover an observation night, and after that, since I obviously had a seizure disorder, I could probably get on Disability and never have to get a job, but, she continued sadly, "Disability won't get you very far in life, you know." Thanks, Keela Shoal. I'm glad you've diagnosed me as an epileptic layabout so quickly, or it might have been too late for me.

2) I have never had a grand mal seizure before. I may have had a petit mal (absence) seizure during Saw 2, but I was staring pretty hard at rapidly flashing lights while stressful music assaulted my ears in Dolby Digital, so I think there was a decent amount of cause there. In any case, if you counted the times I've passed out with that head-static I mentioned (they called it an aura), you'd come up with 5. Five times, each years apart from the others. Daily medication that would, as Keela Shoal said, "make me tired all the time, but that's worth it, right"? No thanks.

3) The Valium she referred to were Valium suppositories. And they'd have to be taken as soon as I thought a seizure might be coming on (i.e. about 3 seconds before I passed out). A Valium suppository. So, as I said to my mother later, "I'd have to be like, 'Sorry, boss, I'm feeling woozy; I just need to ...um... put my head between my knees.'"

Yeah, I was a little stressed out. Making it worse was the fact that the study had other participants coming in around me, and the nurses --thinking that either I'd scare the normals away, or else that I cringe at the sight of my fellow man-- decided to pull three curtains up and completely close me in. So I was lying in an enclosed space with Keela Shoal raising my Terror Alert to Orange, and I was practically guaranteed to have a seizure disorder and all I could think about was that I had a two-man show to be in at DSI in 6 hours and if I was kept overnight for observation, Ted would have made a video for our team for nothing.

My priorities, it turns out were right on the money.

(For those paying attention, this is the Long-Story-Short part of any Kit monologue).

THREE HOURS LATER:

I was in the ER. Luckily, the ER staff got me checked in, into a room, and blood-tested within 15 minutes (instead of resident alarmist Keela Shoal's estimate of "hopefully before midnight"). I repeated my story to a nurse, a resident, a student doctor, and the woman who would wind up filling out my discharge papers. And they all said that I'd need to wait for the doctor. Well then, stop asking me for my story, people, if you can't do anything for me (grumble, grumble).

Finally, a Dr. Robert Preston came in, and the first words out of his mouth (after I'd told him my story) were, "Well, I don't think this is symptomatic of epileptic seizures at all." To which my mother said, "I like this guy."

It turns out that I have a very specific body type that reacts poorly to major traumas like a needle in a major vein (or under my kneecap), or like a jarring rap to my knee (or a parallel bar in the groin). You know, for random examples. I apparently on a good day have a slightly low blood pressure, and I'd only had a light lunch before the blood-drawing, and I'm, you know, mildly stressed out with my current life situation, and, oh, I weigh 112 lb after a decent breakfast.

With all that, all the blood rushed from my brain. Zero blood pressure. Lack of blood causes unconsciousness, and then it causes seizures. I just have the body-structure and circulation of a paper-clip animal, so it takes less time to get to Seizureville for me.

So, I'm okay. The doctor said I'm supposed to avoid, for instance, giving blood without lying down and raising my legs, and above all, I need to not be running on fumes and thus I need to eat more. Sheesh, friends of mine, why did none of you ever TEEL me I needed to eat more? Did you WANT me to die? I mean some kind of WARNING would have been NICE, people.

Anyway, I realized what my penchant for pratfalls is:
A Defense Mechanism.
Since a sharp rap in the wrong place is enough to make me pass out, I've apparently learned how to fall so I never have that happen.

My body is awesome.

Or rather, my body is crappy, but at least it knows it and has worked long and hard to duct-tape together the shoddy craftsmanship.
.

WE R SPIES

Mon, 02 Jul 2007 11:30:46 GMT

MTV, why oh why did you have such intriguing yet short-lived cartoon shows several years ago? A while ago I got into Clone High (02-03) and watched the youtube videos of it.

Now, it's Spy Groove (2000), described by one viewer as "what Austin Powers should've been like." I've got to agree.

Any show that calls its Hardy-Boys-looking main characters 'Agent 1' and 'Agent 2' (or as a villain puts it in the pilot: "the Olsen Twins of the espionage world") must be fairly decent. Any show that somehow manages to evoke the retro feel of those E-Surance commercials without making me angry, must be pretty exciting. Any show, basically, that works in a three-second flashback to its main characters being true to their modern-day personalities back when they were in the Boy Scouts together...

...and takes the time to actually get the uniform design correct...well, said show must be a good candidate for Kickass Find Of The Week.

Oh, and the beautiful woman du jour in the Greece episode is named Tracy Momandpopodopolis. For serious, MTV? Good on ya.
.

Got To Curry Good Favor

Sat, 23 Jun 2007 19:26:46 GMT

Well, yesterday's update went well.

One more thing to put up here while we're on the subject.

AQUAMAN

Well, the toymakers obviously understand that very few children are going to be crazy about Aquaman, and those who are... well, they're going to be the kids who don't care what the toy looks like, since they'll be so excited just to have an Aquaman toy at all.

This explains the lack of care taken with this action figure. I mean, look at his eyes. His pupils are pointing in two different directions! It's not a huge angle difference, but just large enough of one to be subtly disturbing when looking at him head-on.

I thought Superman's expression was off-putting? Aquaman's is far worse. He looks like he's mentally challenged and inbred somehow. To be precise, he looks like he's the retarded offspring of five monkeys having butt sex with a fish-squirrel! Congratulations!

...Wait. (Checks Aquaman's Silver Age origin story) Oh. I guess he sort of was. (Not 'is' though; DC's reset his origin to something less interspecial.)

By the way, looke at those "scales" on his shirt. I realize Playskooling a character requires some design simplifications, but come on; those are basically Mickey-D Golden Arches drawn upside-down.

And last, but certainly not least, what was he thinking when he put on that belt buckle? It's a sharp point extending off the belt itself and over his stomach right up to just under his rib cage. All he has to do is try to change directions while swimming or even to just lean over...

...and his belt buckle will stab into his chest, either goring him or, worse, snapping off his xiphoid and sending it into his lung/heart/swim bladder.

And yet, of all the DC Super Friends toys, I'm split between the black and grey version of Batman (not seen in last journal) and this Aquaman.

I guess I've just got a habit of rooting for the underdogfish.

.

Wonder Twin Powers Articulate!

Fri, 22 Jun 2007 20:35:53 GMT

Hey, remember Spidey and Friends? The toys that dared to ask, "What if Spiderman wore pre-stressed khakis and was a construction worker?"
Or, more importantly, "What if Hulk drove a snowplow-tow truck?"

Well, the series went so well that Playskool (such an inappropriately spelled company name) went ahead and expanded. The new series of toys will be DC Heroes. But instead of calling it "Batty and Friends" or "Supey and Friends" they slacked off and went with "DC Super Friends."

How original.

In fact, how original to just step in on the Marvel heroes' preschool gig in the first place. Knaves! I demand satisfaction.

"Take ten paces, Clark, then we'll turn and duel."
"I know you feel wronged, Steve, but I don't think there's even a contest here. When I died, the entire DC Universe fought to bring me back from the dead. You?"
"... ... ..."

"Grrrr..."
"Heh, yeah. Sorry, Steve; don't lose your head[1]."

The thing is, there are pictures of the toys and their packaging online, and they astound me. For various reasons. Let's take a look, shall we?

BATMAN

That is the best example of a masher face I've ever seen.
"Mmmm, Diana, you're looking particularly Amazonian this evening."
[hands clench and unclench unconsciously]

SUPERMAN

His expression is less Boy-Scout-Grin here and more Vacant-Stare-of-Puppet. The innocent sort of face you expect your evil ventriloquist's dummy to put on when you desperately try to show the police who's really been throttling all those magician's assistants after your shows.

Also, you'd think his leg muscles would be bigger, what with having to constantly hold up his enormous upper body. Perhaps he just flies everywhere so he doesn't have to put that much stress on his dainty Kryptonian ankles. Even when he's walking, he's actually floating a millimeter off the ground.

...Or maybe he just does a lot of handstands.

GREEN LANTERN

Gary Coleman?!

Hey, what's up with that giant backpack attached to the green fist? What does that do? Oh, there's an extra picture demonstrating its use, huh? Let's see...

Oh... uh... wait. What? I guess...it's like some sort of Air Jordan then? Pump air into the fist to tighten it up and make it easier to use for... jumping...? Obviously, there's no water involved, and the fist isn't shooting off like a normal pump-action accessory. Perhaps we should ask Gary what that giant fist-shaped airpump is for.

...Awkward.

Actually, the accessories are all kind of weird. Superman's is a wall that he can break into three pieces. No, excuse me: it's a small wall fragment that he can impotently break into 3 smaller pieces. So he's less concerned with property damage than he is with making sure that he takes the phrase "raze it to the ground" as literally as kryptonianly possible.

And Batman?

It looks like the designers had heard fans grumble about past Batman gun-accessories, since Batman is known for being against the use of guns. But they also thought that just giving him a Batarang was too wimpy (and obviously Batman needs to display more power than Superman). Therefore, their solution was to give Batman an enormous Batarang-Launcher, one that forced Batman to get a license to carry a concealed Siege Weapon.

And his car's even better. Look at this Batmobile:

My first thought upon seeing it:
Who severed the head of T-Bone from SWAT Kats?

Look, the Batmobile's even got the SWAT Kats logo on the hood.

Speaking of logos, each figure comes with a collectible card/dogtag[2] showing off their abilities. Let me guess: Superman flies and is strong. Batman knows martial arts and detective skills. Gary Coleman is short and has an alien-powered ring. Checking my answers:

"Superman lifts a rectangle cement block!" Um...wow? Not a rectangle building or a rectangle semi trailer or even a rectangle two-ton crate. A cement block. As in, a 25-pound cement block that even I could lift over my head. Me, the guy whose mother once accused him of being anorexic. Not all that impressive, Whoopdiedooperman... unless it's Kryptonite cement?

"Batman looks for the Bat-Signal circle!" No powers to speak of, just watchfulness, huh? I suppose that's fine. He's always ready to leap into action; that's commendable. Of course, if you count up the number of times in the comics that he's facing away from the window and Alfred has to point out that the Bat-Signal's been on for nearly the past twenty minutes, Sir, perhaps Master Bruce would care to stop ogling Master Dick as he practices gymnastics and do his job?... well, perhaps there's a reason it doesn't say "Batman always looks for the Bat-Signal circle."

"Gary Coleman makes a box!" He...makes a box. Not 'he makes a box cage' showing Lex Luthor trapped inside. Not 'he makes a box to shore up a crumbling wall' (thanks, Superman). No, he just makes a box because he can. Hey, if Gary's just going to make a shape because he can, how about making it some other basic shape. Rectangle, Circle... why not have it read "Gary Coleman makes a triangle!" Then at least his uselessness would be on par with his teammates. Instead, the box just makes him[3] look like a showoff:

"Hey, guys. Batman just watches a shape in the sky. Superman can lift a measly flat piece of concrete. But me? I've branched out into the 3rd dimension! I can make a box, and what's more, I can make a giant pump-action fist enter that box and fill it to capacity, baby! Batman thinks he's so great? Whatchutalkinbout, Bruce (Willis)?"

[1] Too late:

[2] Sorry, T-Bone.
[3] In Soviet Russia, box makes you!

.

Black and White And Red All Over

Mon, 11 Jun 2007 16:51:41 GMT

Happy birthday, xenosauridae!
I would do a birthday jig, but...

Oh, but it's not over yet.
Because the following is to the tune of the above song.

The Gift That Keeps On Giving
by The Kitfitz Simons
(ttto 'I Don't Feel Like Dancing'
by The Scissor Sisters)

It's another birthday.
It's been one year since the last.
I'm wholly unprepared;
I've got to find a present fast.
You'd like something simple,
something clever, something odd...
preferably made science-themed to help re-disprove God.
So I'll play along while I parody this song.
I'm gonna get you something you don't own.
You better pause. Move somewhere there's no 'No Pets' clause,
'cause I got you amoebic panda clones.

Yes, panda clones: the best idea that science ever had.
They reproduce asexually; you know that can't be bad,
because now they are not endangered. Every second, more are born.
This way is much more reasonable that showing pandas porn.

There's four more pandas! Pandas!
Savin' populations is so easy to do!
There's eight more pandas! Pandas!
Here's a tip: you better go invest in bamboo!
Sixteen more pandas! Pandas!
Don't you think it's odd
there's no word
for a group bigger than two-oo-oo?

[ Instrumental Break ]

Species come and species go,
from hunting and pollution.
We humans are the problem.
Here, have a final solution.
You've got so many pandas,
now humanity's defunct.
No merciful god would allow this.
Great! Then He's debunked!

So science has won!
Time to have a little fun,
and time that we dig ourselves out of this hole.
So please grab a bat,
and you know in no time flat,
we'll get this population in control!

I feel like panda clubbing
will catch on here in a flash
with all your friends; that's how you
would define a birthday bash!
You get to save the ecosystem.
Life or death, well, either way
with never-ending pandas!
So sir, have a happy day.

Kill four more pandas! Pandas!
If your morals cause your panda-killing to slow,
Kill eight more pandas! Pandas!
Just think of it as a China-made Whack-A-Mole
Sixteen dead pandas! Pandas!
Better not sneeze
if you please,
or they'll all die with one blow-ow-ow.

[ Instrumental Break ]
[ pandas piling higher ]

Oh goddamn, a quick tangential:
their reproduction's exponential.
It's essential
that you kill them faster or we all will drooOOOOOWWWWNNN!

[ disappears in pandas ]
[ burst upward and dive back in like Scrooge McDuck ]

Now Earth is two-thirds pandas;
water quickly went away.
I always saw the world
in black and white! --Heh-- Anyway,
We'll just make pandaballs and forts
and panda-angels on the ground!
I'm glad I feel like pandas
'cause they're gonna stick around.

Sixteen ton pandas! Pandas!
Savin' population's easy to overdo!
Thirty-two ton pandas! Pandas!
Exponential numbers really start to accrue!
Sixty-four ton pandas! Pandas!
Hey, before we die,
not to pry,
but you never said 'Thank you-oo-oo.'
.

[Insert Polish Joke Here]

Thu, 07 Jun 2007 05:55:25 GMT

I'm retaking DSI Level 1 to make myself feel more comfortable after a year away from the art. Jeremy's teaching the class, and tonight he said something that made me actually write something down during class (I'm a bad student; I stopped taking comprehensive notes after my third time through the classes).

We were focusing on character tonight, and of course that meant it was time for another installment of "60 Seconds of Hell" (or, since it's a level 1 class: "Character Exercise Left Untitled So As Not To Scare Off The New Recruits"). The exercise's point is to switch characters every 6-10 seconds (to teacher's taste) with no one else on stage to play off of. It naturally makes people think of multiple-personality disorder, for reasons that become obvious when you see it done.

Well, after I did my 6 characters in 60 seconds, Jeremy said I've got the variety down, but that he had a challenge for me. "You tend to play... clean? uh... polished characters. My challenge to you is to try playing some... unpolished characters. Do something that Kit would never do."

To which Eric D. replied, "Do things like that even exist?"

And it's true. I've gained a mild reputation in improv for being willing to do anything. I've climbed/dangled from I-beams, balanced sideways on Erik Martin's back, and picked up people who weigh more than I can actually bench. I've done faceplants, pratfalls, legdrops, clotheslines, clean shows, dirty shows, and I've injured myself slightly where others would almost certainly have died. I've made Holocaust jokes, abortion jokes, prostitute-murder jokes, sacrilegious jokes to the extreme, and more horrible puns than you can shake a schtick at.

So what would I never do in a scene?

I think I know why my characters are never "unpolished." It's because when I was learning how to act on stage (thanks Open Door Theatre), they told me to plant my feet and keep my hand motions to the necessary minimum. That way, every move is important and you don't look like you have to go to the bathroom.

Unfortunately, that means I rarely give myself the chance to randomly reach out and find something unexpected in my environment (this also stems from how cognitive my improv often turns out to be). I almost never play characters with slurred/relaxed speech unless mirroring my partner (or unless asked to in-scene). I try so hard to make distinct characters that, in most cases, my characters end up with a definite watermark.

Not to say that's bad. It's just I'm going to try to find those unpolished people. ...Perhaps if I just started playing my actual self on stage more instead of playing my default public self.
.

Who Are You? Doot doot doot doot...

Sun, 03 Jun 2007 17:53:08 GMT

After watching many (>40) episodes of CSI, I've begun to think about everyday occurrences in terms of evidence. I notice where I touch a chair, where my hair falls and if its got the bulbs attached, and how things come apart (and thus how castoff could get inside them).

Scratches have become DNA droppings. Every can I drink from is a saliva deposit. I look closer at tire treads and step around footprints in the dirt. I pick up clothes and immediately look for trace in the seams. I can even use the word 'epithelials' correctly in a sentence (Look over there at those epithelials.)

All of that, however, is just setup for the point of this journal however: lately, I've been watching the first season of 'Criminal Minds' (starring Mandy Patinkin). The concept of this show is that the members of the FBI's Behavioral Analysis Unit (or as I call them, the BAUers) solve cases by thinking like the criminal and profiling him/her out into the open. And, just as watching CSI has gotten me looking at forensic evidence, so too has watching 'Criminal Minds' made me start profiling the writers of the series.

See, I don't think the writing is very good at all. In one episode, the plotline actually makes no sense, as its solution definitively breaks the rules the profilers had set up earlier in the episode. (The line that got me was, "After all, who would suspect a telephone repairman?" -- said 20 minutes after they got through profiling the culprit as driving a service vehicle.) At first, I just shrugged it off as what I call Tru-Calling Syndrome (badly-written dialog, poorly-structured episode plots), but then I started to notice patterns.

1) The two characters who are actually written well are the overly-intelligent, anti-social agents; they are the youngest and oldest agents on the team.

2) The worst writing is for the female cast members and the token "black muscle" character.'

3) Every episode begins and ends with a relevant quote in the form: "Euripedes once said, 'blah blah blah'." The quotes are never followed by commentary by the character, even when the quote isn't actually a good line to end on. Often this leaves you expecting another couple sentences when there are none forthcoming.

4) All of the main characters come across as being varying degrees of distant from what they're doing. In one episode, they're trying to settle a bet at the the top of the show, and halfway through --between interviewing the 7th and 8th girls in a long line of possible witnesses-- they go back to discussing the bet completely out of the blue.

What does this all mean? Well, the writers of the show most likely fit into the category of the first group (the facts-and-figures buffs). The writers don't have photographic memories, and they can't read thousands of words a minute, like the characters can; those are just fantasy-extensions of the writers' love for reading and trivia.

In one episode, a criminal goes on a rant, insulting each member of the team personally. He uses everyone's full name... except for the woman's. He calls her by her first name. In fact, her last name doesn't often come up at all... and what is her first name? Elle.

Really.

So, the profile continues: the writers are not good around women. They look at them as pretty faces who are trying and failing to "fit into The Boys' Club" (an actual comment made in the show at one point). However, the writers are also scared of women, as 'Agent Elle' will every so often do something like extract information from a suspect by pressing down on his crotch with her high heel. Afterwards, the nerd characters (who hadn't been there) get slightly embarrassed and nervous when wondering how she'd wrangled a confession from the perp.

The personality of the token bouncer/enforcer of the group shows that the writers have only seen that type from afar. They look down on him, writing him as the kind who questions the wisdom of the nerdy leader, who is by far not as smart as the nerdy young guy (and says so often), and who has girls falling all over him but won't deign to return their affection because, as he says in-show: "I'd never want to mess with a woman with a gun." He is the writers' whipping boy, and his only real friend is the only other well-written character on the show: the overweight, nerdy horn-rimmed woman in the FBI's Tech Department.

She's a Tetris-a-holic, she answers the phone by sating, "Office of Supreme Brilliance and Perfection, how may I help you?" and generally is the quirk that holds the show together (barely). She is, in short, the writers' best friend in high school immortalized on television. She is in no way presented as female, and thus is non-threatening and non-just-pretty-face. She hangs out with the bodyguard guy mostly so the writers can have him get stumped and let her show him up.

And then there's the distance from the cases. There's the constant quotes of percentages and the quotes of actual quotes. I can only see this as evidence that the writers came up with this show because they really got interested during their Intro to Abnormal Psych course, and the series spun out of that. ...That and their copy of Bartlett's Familiar Quotations.

Hmm. I wonder if I should profile myself, as I obviously dislike the show, but I keep watching it. Same thing with most bad movies. ...I guess I just really like to feel superior to professionals?
.

Anglican Magic!

Mon, 28 May 2007 05:57:46 GMT

Tonight was the 3x3 Tournament at DSI Comedy Theater. Our team won! Boom!

Man, we rocked out. The first round, one member had to compete at telling "I Like My Women Like I Like My ____" jokes. I took care of that. Then a second member had to try to get an audience member do a laughing spit take faster than the other teams could. PT owned that round. Those alone earned us a By, letting us scope out the competition in the 3-minute round. The field narrowed, we jumped into the 5-minute round, took that, then took the final showdown as well.

It was crazy fun, and the three of us all got to have our moments. Although, I'm starting to completely lose the words I'm looking for in scenes and thus just randomly saying the first word that sounds close enough to possibly be it, usually making some random person in the audience snicker and repeat my gaffe to the person next to them. ("Ha! 'Sudoku?'")

Rachel made it, brought along a friend, and --I will continue to posit-- cast the deciding vote in our favor. It meant a lot to me for her to be there, which I think the two of us understand better than most would.

In any case, this all means that The Orange Order will be getting a Cagematch slot in June. Rock. Awesome.

Also, thanks go to Monica for taking a few pictures of us during the show.

I am just full of smarm in that shot, aren't I?
.

Brunt Systematic Insight

Sat, 26 May 2007 07:13:07 GMT

CSI = ADDICTIVE

DSI = ADDICTIVE

What next? Am I going to turn into an Employee State Insurance junkie too?

...God, I hope so. I could really use a hit of it right about now.

In any case, applying the transitive property to the above two equations naturally gives me this (I originally made this the same month I started my LiveJournal):

Here's the deal:
1) Oh man, torrents of the entire 5th season of the original CSI are why Al Gore created the Interblag. Seriously. I've never truly understood how people could get addicted to drugs until now. In fact, I've never used the phrase "I'm jonesin' for some _____" until tonight when, after watching Mister Diplomat, I said to myself, "I'm jonesin' for some CSI and a bag of popcorn." And having watched the 2-season-old season premiere, I am saying it again. Except now I'm full, and I think I may die if when I eat another bag.

2) I would take the most boring, eye-bleedingly drudgish and least world-altering job in the world to keep doing DSI. I got career counseled on Tuesday, and we figured out I've had no desire to take that kind of job and thus haven't been looking for it. The counselor's solution was for me to first: get a temp job, second: move in with my parents, and third: look for a permanent job in New York (her choice of city, as she thinks I want to be on Broadway). However, I've come to realize the following:

3) I don't want to change the world by curing cancer. I don't want to create a revolutionary polymer. I don't want to lead our country into the 21st-and-a-half century. No, I want to change the world by making my friends smile more often, grin more sheepishly, groan in happy-angry-exasperation more openly. Sometimes that means staying when I've been planning on going. Like, really planning. And promising.

4) I hate telling people my plans because my life works like a perpetual climax of an episode of Scooby-Doo: As long as the plan is secret, it will work. But as soon as the audience hears the plan ahead of time, it's doomed to fail disastrously, possibly taking Shaggy out in the process.

5) I've been typing this for far too long. Grissom's getting impatient.
Grissomv("Where's my forensics? Is Gil Grissom gonna have to choke a bitch?");

6) I want my sister to see me do improv again. I don't know how likely that is. Probably not very, which makes me sad enough to write it down.

7) At some point, I got over my incessant habit of referencing Faulkner's "As I[1] Lay Dying" when using numbered lists. I'm not sure when that happened, but I'm glad it did; I can't stand Faulkner, and I don't like having to owe him for creating one of my running gags. Seriously, I'd be better off constantly nudge-winking while drawing from Sherri Lewis material[2].

[1] ASI = ADDICTIVE
[2] Sherri Lewis Material = sock-cotton, or to a lesser extent, felt
.

Anticlimactic?

Wed, 23 May 2007 05:20:52 GMT

I feel like this piece needs more work. Deserves more work.
I just can't figure out where to start. So, as always, I post it here, once again possibly restricting its future publishability... or not. Like I know. ...I should actually find these things out.

Whatever. Feedback welcomed.

infinite tape measure
by Kit FitzSimons

it stretches to the horizon
and on through the atmosphere
measuring inches between stars
feet between planets and moons
the yardage of comet tails
and how many meters
there are in a belt
until at not quite last
i've got all the dimensions
and with my little tables filled
with all the star charts proven wrong
and with a wistful wrist-flick
i'll stand here until i die
and my son takes it from me
and his son and son and son and son
and watching yellow flicker black
we'll listen to its fricative zizz
sliding ceaselessly inward
bumping past dusty nebulae
clacking as it straightens
its bent alloy clasp
catching on wormholes
skipping off rings
forever coming back
so that one neverday
in some figment of
zeno's imagination
it will slide home at last
with universal momentum
and snap my infinite-grandson's wrist.
.