Thursday, June 12, 2008

The Best Classic Arcade Game

Sometimes all the elements just come together and I know that the Muses are with me. Take today. I'm driving into work, listening to the news and eating my Cream Cheese Toaster Strudels (The Breakfast of People Who Would Have Been Champions Except They Went A Different, More Cream-Cheese Filled Route Instead) and thinking about what I'm going to nominate today, and I start just thinking about Asteroids, and I remember how much fun it was to play and decide that I'll name it The Best Classic Arcade Game.

Then, I get to "work" and I'm sitting at my computer and as usual my first task is to fire up iTunes and begin surfing the Internet, and the first song I hear is The New Pornographers' "Adventures In Solitude."



That's when I realized that Asteroids would not just make a good classic video game (The Best, as it turns out) but also it would make a great movie. And "Adventures in Solitude" would both open and close the movie.

It would begin with a shot of a small space capsule floating in space as the song began. The capsule would float and tumble and drift and as the song went on, giant asteroids would begin appearing, more and more and more so that the song's peaceful background would begin to seem more and more ominous, while still providing a source of hope to the viewers because the song has that optimistic chorus: We thought we lost you; welcome back.

I haven't gotten farther than that in plotting it out, so that'll be a good little project to distract me from the things sitting on my desk waiting to be done at "work."

Also, I just googled "Asteroids The Movie" and didn't see any similar projects in the works, so don't go stealing my idea.

The inspiration that Asteroids gave me for what will surely be the hit summer movie of 2009 shows the staying power and awesome might of what is both the simplest, and the most addictive, video game I can think of. That inspiration and staying power also show just how dumb and misguided most video games are today.

I mostly don't play video games any more, aside from every now and then playing Madden against The Boy. I mostly don't play them because they're far, far too complex for me. The last video game I remember playing was "Battlefront," a game that promised to let me replay all the Star Wars' movies battles. Here's what that game looks like:




That game did not let me so much recreate the Star Wars battles and live them for myself as it did make me think that I had some sort of neurological problem that was interfering with my ability to see and react. The controllers for the game have twelve buttons and two joysticks and the way you hold or move the controller can also affect things, I think. The game itself makes you learn to lift and change weapons and move and sight them and fire and look at radars and things, all at the same times.

When I actually played the game, against The Boy, I spent most of the time running into walls and shooting at the floor. And getting shot, a lot. At the end, I think I had shot one Imperial Stormtrooper during the time The Boy had wiped out my entire Rebel Alliance.

It wasn't at all like recreating the battles; it was a lot like trying to re-type a Russian novel using a Japanese keyboard, and about as much fun. The only video game I've ever seen that was less fun was The Sims, because in that game, you can't even try to shoot people.

Asteroids, by comparison to the amazingly detailed, incredibly complex games that kids take for granted today, was amazingly simple and completely lacking in the graphics department. I'm pretty sure it was hand-drawn. There were only five buttons that I recall: rotate left, rotate right, thrust, shoot, and I believe there was an option to teleport every now and then.

You as the player were a little triangle adrift in an asteroid field whose only goal was to survive. The plot was: shoot everything that's not you.

That game could be played for hours. Days. It was amazingly addictive, and maddening as you'd try to shoot that last tiny little asteroid, drifting around and rotating and firing your little dot-specks in a circular motion. Then, when you did it... you got all new asteroids with the creepy, thumpy sound effects starting up again.

Asteroids, like a lot of early videogames, had to survive on that kind of addictive, challenging game play because the graphics and storyline wouldn't keep you coming back. In that lies a lesson for today's videogame makers: make it fun to play. You can have all the realistic simulations of Death Stars, all the fictional cities filled with gangsters driving cars, all the neighborhoods filled with kind of creepy looking people talking gibberish and thinking in symbols that you want, but it's all so much window dressing if the game is too complicated or too hard to master or no fun to play.

I know that most people are dismissing me as someone who is simply nostalgic, who doesn't "get" the new videogames, who's too old to master them and so he complains about them instead. While it's true that I'm nostalgic and can't master the new games, I'm also right, and here's what I'm especially right about:

Asteroids, like all good games, will be around for as long as there are people who like to play games. The Sims, Grand Theft Auto, Battlefront: those will fade out and be forgotten just like Strat-O-Matic Baseball.

You remember "Strat-O-Matic Baseball," don't you? No, you don't -- because it was complicated and boring and required doing a lot of things that people don't want to do to try to recreate something people do want to do. To recreate playing baseball Strat-O-Matic required all kinds of paper and statistics and drafts and other dumb stuff, and the game never really caught on beyond a devoted few fanatics. Now, it's faded away to be replaced by fantasy baseball leagues and real baseball.

That's what'll happen to The Sims and those other games. They try to recreate something and in recreating it, they leave out the fun. They're Frankenstein's Monsters of video games -- simulations of real life that have no spirit or zest or fun.

Asteroids, on the other hand, really had no basis in reality. There was no backstory (that'll be for my movie) and no goal, no unlocking extra levels, no cheat codes, no online multigame players. Just shoot and move and shoot and move. But it was fun.

It seems like our lives get more complicated and more full of detail and information everyday. We've gone from having three channels on TV and phones that were attached to the wall by a cord to having hundreds of satellite channels, the Internet, iPods, cell phones, digital radio stations. As we complicate our lives, we complicate our video games, too, trying to make them more and more like some version of "real life" the way we think of it, or "real life" the way we'd like to temporarily try it.

But games should not recreate the complexities and challenges of life, and they should not be so hard to play and involved that they become either a substitute for or a simulation of my exact life. When I get to the office, I have to go through a series of steps just to begin "working:" I have to plug in my cell phone to charge, turn on the computer, check the phone messages, hit "ctrl/alt/del" to open up my computer, open programs, type in passwords, review my emails...

Why would I want to do all that to shoot a stormtrooper? I don't. When it comes time to play a game, I want to relax and have fun and not have firing my rifle involve a combination of four buttons, a joystick and a UN investigation.

There's an awful lot to be said in favor of the simplicity of a triangle shooting dots at random shapes, but the two best things I can say about it are it's simple and it's fun. Those aren't two separate ideas; they're two sides of the same coin: life is complicated; games are simple and fun. Today's video games are complicated; Asteroids, The Best Classic Arcade Game, is simple and fun.










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Truth, Justice, The American Way, and Lifelock.

I know which side of this fight I'm on. There's a battle brewing between lifelock and the credit reporting agency Experian. Experian, according to Lifelock, says that credit laws don't let Lifelock do what Lifelock wants to do, which is help protect you from identity theft.

You know Lifelock -- the company that backs up its claims with a million dollar guarantee. One way they help monitor and protect you is to place fraud alerts on your credit. Lifelock says that doing this imposts costs on credit reporting agencies like Experian, but maintains that it's necessary to do that to protect people.

Another thing Lifelock does is opt you out of pre-approved junk mail, which limits the credit reporting agencies' ability to sell your private information and subject you to credit offers.

You can find out more about the fight by watching this video, but based on what I heard and saw there, I'm firmly on Lifelock's side. If they're hired to protect me, they have my authority to place fraud alerts on my credit report and keep people from selling my private information. That's exactly what I want them to do. Lifelock is on the side of the consumers who hire them, consumers who want to be protected from identity theft and ensure their credit reports are accurate.

The methods Lifelock uses may end up reducing the profits of the credit reporting agencies, but they benefit consumers and protect them. Isn't that what all consumers want? And shouldn't that be what the credit reporting agencies want, too?

You can watch the video and make up your own mind, but I'm coming down on the side of truth, justice, the American way, and protecting my credit: that's Lifelock's side.

What are Police Bees?

Only the best new kids' game around. Over on Thinking The Lions (Life, only funnier), I explain how to play it. But don't take my word for it. Listen to loyal reader Mark (whose own blog you can read here):


Reading your blog is fantastic - I no longer have to think about what sort of games I am going to play with my son when he gets older, I just steal all the great ideas out of your blog like some kind of vague copyright infringement.

That's interesting, don't you work in a law office? Are you going to sue me until I pay you royalties everytime I tickle my son and buzz at the same time? Then you really would be the Bee Police. There could be some real money in here, for you, if you applied yourself! Maybe it should be the one thing on your list that gets done next week!

I love reading your blog - even the advertisement posts are hilarious enough that I sometimes actually check them out for useful things (which I also sometimes actually find!). Keep up the great work! I'll update again...soon. I'm leaving work to be a stay-at-home-dad so you can bet there will be time - and some humorous anecdotes in there when I do.

So go find out what Police Bees are today!

The reason you want to have children.

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The kids think that I make them do clean-up chores as punishment simply because I don't like to do cleaning up. They'll be arguing or screwing around after dinner and I'll tell them That's it, go clean up the family room downstairs and make sure it's spotless! To which they uniformly reply You're just punishing like that because you don't like to clean up.

They couldn't be more wrong. I don't give them chores as punishment because I don't like to do the chores.

I give them chores as punishment because I'm lazy.

Isn't the whole point of having kids to eventually get to the time in your life when you can say I don't feel like sweeping the kitchen; you go do it. Isn't that why people have kids? I mean, yeah, yeah... love the kids, they're cute, carry on the family name, togetherness, all that stuff, but really it's about finally getting someone else to do the work, right?

I know when we were kids we did, by my estimate, 113% of the household chores. As I think back now with a memory that is completely unbiased, I do not recall my mom or dad ever doing a single thing around the house. They'd be watching TV and relaxing with martinis in leather easy chairs, while we were scrubbing the floor with -- as I recall -- a toothbrush. A small toothbrush. With no bristles.

Well, it's my turn now. We've got a bunch of kids (I haven't counted them in a while and they've got friends over so often that the friends feel like part of the family, so I'll guesstimate the number of actual kids that are "ours" at 6.2) and there's a bunch of chores to be done, and anyone can do that math.

There is an easier way, I'm told. Sweetie and others have mentioned that I could do my chores with very little expenditure of energy by getting an Accucharge Stick Vac or Hand Vac from Dirt Devil . They use 70% less energy than other vacuums, making them the first-ever cordless cleaners to get the Energy Star seal of approval. I could, Sweetie says, simply get that and save all that energy and avoid all the trouble my 'punishments' create.

I suppose she's got a point; they are more efficient, and easier to find than tiny bristle-less toothbrushes.


Sponsored by Dirt Devil AccuCharge

Wednesday, June 11, 2008

The Best Linker and The Best Blogger!




I have only once before awarded a Best in two categories to one thing at one time -- the nominee there was "I Am Not Your Broom"-- so today's nominee/t-shirt winner is in good company, always assuming that you think being compared to something who is not someone else's broom is a good thing. But it is, right? Sure it is.

Read. Dance. Bliss is nobody's broom.

I've been running The Great Linking Contest for a while now, and as great as all the linkers are, Read.Dance.Bliss has outdone everyone with this post, which I'm going to go ahead and print in its glory:


Nonsportsmanlike Conduct! says
"read.dance.bliss. Funny.Short.Brilliant!"

"The Best of Everything" says "Writes and thinks the way I would write and think if I was good at writing and thinking."

Thinking The Lions says "read.dance.bliss: For once, a title that captures the essence of the writing."

AfterDark says "like poetry, only fun to read."

Have I mentioned how much I like this guy?

Also, thewunderblog used to call me "opinionated" but doesn't anymore, and back when it was at its old home, my blog was described as "The most defenestrate blog out there." I can't argue with that. Any other descriptions of my blog out there that I haven't seen?


The genius of that link and entry is apparent from miles away, just like the face on Mars that NASA keeps trying to cover up because it was carved by the giant Martians who keep wrecking our landers. It's genius because it links not only to The Best of Everything (required for the contest) but links to some of my other blogs, too (not required, but always appreciated) and mentions that that she likes me (not required, always appreciated, and rarely said by anyone but me-- although I do spend hours telling me how much I like me.)

And it's genius because it includes "defenestrate." All works of genius include the word "defenestrate." The Brothers Karamazov used the word "defenestrate" over 75 times, something I can prove by the fact that I just now made it up and wrote it on the Internet. Stephen Hawking probably has defenestrated people. Christopher Walken certainly has. You get the point.

Above and beyond Read.Dance.Bliss' admirable admiration for me is Read.Dance.Bliss' writing and photography and spirit and love of dance and dislike of sexist judges and recognition of how language can be both simple and beautiful at the same time, a combination of flair and style and readability and emotion and music and humor that spins together in a way that, reading it, makes me think that somehow, Read.Dance.Bliss has captured Peter Pan's Lost Boys, turned them into confections, and made them dance ballet.

No, I can't explain that -- but when I sat down and tried to think of a single sentence to describe this blog that was the exact first thing that sprang to my mind: wild kids who never grew up but somehow were also grown up, too, sprinkled with sugar and whirling in a mad twist of kinetic motion that makes sense the more you absorb it.

That's a compliment; I don't write as well as her.

On top of all that great writing and neat stories, I get ideas for books and music and links to videos of foreign songs that I then go home and in a fit of bad parenting show my kids, and also she got me to Wonderella, which is just incredibly funny.

I've got Read.Dance.Bliss bookmarked, and I check it every single day -- I'm disappointed whenever there's not a new entry. Go put her blog into your favorites, and also send her some of the stuff she wants and if you live near her, go see one of the recitals she helps put on.

Oh, and she probably knew she was going to get a t-shirt.

Don't despair: the contest is still going on and now you know what it takes to get a t-shirt. Follow the winning stylings of Read.Dance.Bliss and come up with your own links and let me know about them!





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Tuesday, June 10, 2008

The Best Disney Cartoon.



I miss animation. Hand-drawn animation, that is. Computer animation I don't miss at all. It's all around us. There's computer animated commercials, for Pete's sake. Everything is computer-animated these days -- commercials, TV shows, bank accounts, two of Angelina Jolie's kids, you name it, it's been computer animated.

By the way, I predict that will be the next big craze: computer animated adopted kids. I've got it all worked out:

Remember those little Tamagotchi pets that were all the rage? Well, okay, that were some of the rage, a small portion of the rage? Remember, too, when celebrities went nuts with adopting/kidnapping kids because most high-profile celebrities have more money and power than many Third World countries now? (Seriously, can it be very long before one of these celebrities simply buys a country, instead of just importing all of the country's kids? And can it be very long after that until the UN is forced to recognize "David Duchovny" as a member?)

Well, Virtual Kids (TM/Copyright 2008 The Trouble With Roy) combine those two crazes into one loveable rascal/rascette with one big improvement-- when the celebrity tires of the kid, he or she doesn't have to have the nannies raise the child; simply unplug Virtual Tommy and go back to the Hollywood lifestyle!

Mark my words. I was right about Caesar-flavored potato chips -- or I will be, as soon as someone begins producing them and they catch on and are the next big flavor-- and I'm right about this. When you see, on E!, two years from now, a shot of Brangelina and seven real kids plus a computer-animated adorable little moppet, you'll think back to this day and say By gum, he was right! (And you'll then say And these Caesar-flavored chips are very tasty.)

I do miss hand-drawn animation, though. Seeing a good hand-drawn animated movie elevates that movie above the story line and acting and imparts an additional quality to it that makes me appreciate it just that little bit more. It's kind of like if you were reading a good book in a comfortable chair while listening to great music... all while surrounded by the world's greatest works of art.

Sorry. It's nothing like that. That would be cool, but seeing an animated movie is not like that. Still, there's something special about hand-drawn animation; it's more of an art form than a way of simply conveying information. Hand-drawn animation is to a regular movie what illuminated script is to typing.

Disney used to be the king of animated movies; for a while there -- right up to The Lion King-- they were the pinnacle of hand-drawn animation. Then, two things happened to effectively kill off hand-drawn animated movies.

One: Computer animation became possible.

Two: Disney lost any interest in telling stories and instead began beating people over the head with "messages" and/or regurgitating fables.

Those two factors, which should be completely unrelated, combined to result in hand-drawn animation dying. That's because those two factors were combined in everyone's mind with one other factor leading everyone to the wrong conclusion:

The other factor was:

Three: Computer-animated movies made by Pixar made lots of money. Note that I say "by Pixar." I don't believe that a single computer-animated movie made by another company has made any money, and I'm deliberately ignoring Shrek and the subsequent Shrekkage that it spawned because Shrek was an over-rated derivative knockoff of other, better stories, and the sequels were beloved only by critics and Mike Myers. Only Pixar can make good computer-animated movies that don't feature scary-looking things modeled after Sharon Stone and Woody Allen, and even Pixar seems to be losing their touch judging by how bad and boring Cars and Ratatouille are.

(The only portion of Ratatouille I've watched are the parts where an old lady shoots a gun around and there's a stampede of disgusting rats, and the part where the main character sees a rat cooking and yet is then surprised that the rat understands English. You saw him cook! Why is it so surprising that he might also speak English?)

So once computer animation became possible, and Pixar made money, and Disney got taken over by guys who couldn't come up with a different story, everyone looked at those factors and came to the same conclusion. They, as one, realized:

Hey, we'd better start making quality movies that have original storylines or people won't want to come see them!

No, no, no, I'm only making that up. That would constitute critical thinking, which is not in high demand in Hollywood. In Hollywood, the answer that is chosen is, like it is with 8-year-olds, always the easiest possible course. So Hollywood looked at those three factors and said:

People hate hand-drawn animation; let's computerize everything.

The result being that every single animated feature after that was computer-animated, and when they sucked and made no money, too, studio executives blamed it on the oil crisis.

After all, it was the studio executives who made sure that people hated hand-drawn animation by releasing a bunch of crappy hand-drawn movies that existed solely to make a point. There was The Lion King: Let's All Exist Together. There was Pocahontas: White Men Bad, and Treasure Planet: Look, We've Just Given Up, all followed by Lilo & Stitch: Is That Some Kind of Koala Because It's Creeping Me Out? Those were released alongside Toy Story, Toy Story 2, Monsters, Inc., Finding Nemo, and A Bug's Life.

Which is kind of like sending a Patagonian toothfish -- you know it as the "Chilean Sea Bass" and pay big bucks to eat it -- to stand next to Jennifer Aniston and then voting on prom queen.

The results were predictable: animators were let go, computers took over, and the studio executives then began killing animated movies altogether, for unknown nefarious purposes of their own. Why do they hate animated movies? I don't know. Maybe because they can't date the stars of them. But they do hate them, or they wouldn't allow Cars (which I call Doc Hollywood Only With Hot Wheels) and Ratatouille to be made -- let alone the inferior products that don't come from Pixar, like Antz (here's a tip; the "z" in the title made that lame from the start) or That One Movie With The Pigeon Trying To Escape Nazis Or Something.

But way back when, animated movies were still good. They're not good anymore and haven't been for a long time (excepting only Hercules, which somehow slipped through) but they used to be very, very good. To watch a classic hand-drawn Disney cartoon is to see a great but now lost art form at its peak. Even the not-as-great ones, the 101 Dalmatians and The Rescuers, were above average, outdoing most movies and still presenting great artwork and fun songs and storylines. I recently rewatched part of The Sword and The Stone, and just marveled at how each scene was like looking at a moving painting -- and the fact that the animation was engaging and clever and the storyline and dialogue were strong.

The best of all of the Disney product, The Best Disney Cartoon of them all, was by far The Little Mermaid. I'm only a little embarrassed to admit that I've watched The Little Mermaid more times than I've watched The Matrix, The Lord of the Rings Trilogy, and the Indiana Jones movies... combined.

But why not? What's not to like about The Little Mermaid? I know it was derived from the classic fairy tale, and that I said a lot of negative things about simply throwing back a premade story a la Treasure Planet, but there's a very big difference between adapting a Hans Christen Anderson story for an animated movie, as they did in The Little Mermaid, and simply pandering to what you presume are the tastes of your audience by randomly jumbling a bunch of techno-crap into a perfectly good pirate story.

The Little Mermaid had many of the basic ingredients of a great movie, period. It had a good story and interesting characters and kept the story moving along at a good clip without distracting and unnecessary set pieces like Tarzan had. It had excellent songs -- Under The Sea will probably live on hundreds of years as a classic, while Kiss The Girl stands as one of the top 10 romantic songs ever -- and it blended those songs pretty seamlessly with the storyline.

The Little Mermaid then topped that all off with animation that matched the story and songs and improved it, the way icing decorates a cake and adds to its flavor. The undersea landscapes, the waves, the storms, the fights, the bright colors and murky depths and swirling spectacle of it all is a sight that cannot be matched by either reality or computer animation. As great as the underwater landscapes and animation was in Finding Nemo, and they were very realistic and well-done, The Little Mermaid's animation was better, because it wasn't realistic -- it was magical and otherworldly, reflecting just enough of our world to show how unmagical our own world is.

That's something that can't be done with film -- the live action Jungle Book lacked the spirit of the animated version -- and it's something that can't be done with computers, which simply cannot generate the spirit and verve of the human hand. It takes a human imagination with a human pen and a human brush to create something as magical as the world that Ariel and Sebastian and Flounder lived in. With animated films having all but disappeared from the landscape, we-- like the little mermaid herself-- can only long for a world we can only see but never live in, and can only miss what we can no longer have.






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Monday, June 09, 2008

The Best Kind of Popcorn


My life tends to be inelastic; the more things I try to change, the less my life seems to ultimately change in the long run.


If you watched old Tom & Jerry cartoons and ever saw Jerry run under the carpet and create a bump, and then saw Tom press down on the bump, only to have the bump pop up elsewhere, so Tom pressed there, too, and it kept on going like that until you got bored and turned the channel, you know kind of how my life goes. I, too, change the channel a lot. But also, when I press on one part of my life, it just bulges back up somewhere else.

Here's an example from my actual life: Way back, when I first decided to get in shape, I switched a lot of my snacking habits, as you have to do. I ate a lot fewer snacks, and when I did eat snacks, I tried to make them slightly-healthier kinds of snacks.

I know that sounds silly. A "snack" is about as healthy as "NASCAR" is "interesting" or "Jessica Simpson" can "sing." I make that point periodically to the kids, who will ask something like "Which is healthier, a bowl of ice cream or a Snickers bar?" to which I'll reply "Carrots," and then I go get a bowl of ice cream and sprinkle Snickers bars on it, because that sounded good.

But I tried, in the past, to have healthy snacks. I switched, for example, to popcorn, which is one of those foods people are always talking about that is a lot healthier than you think, like lettuce or, lately, bacon. I wish I'd been the guy to think up that diet where you can eat as much as you want of any food you want, except noodles, and still call it a "diet." That's where American society really crossed the line.

We used to be a country that thought that "fat" was admirable, because "fat" meant "successful." If you were "fat" that meant you could afford food and you had a job that didn't include hard labor. Food + not working = American success story. That all began to change with the Baby Boomers -- changed for the worse, as with so much of the Boomers' legacy -- and their obsession with getting "in shape" and being on "diets." They began jogging and jazzercizing (combining jazz with exercise... pleh. The only good thing to say about that is it made it easier to avoid two things I didn't like by putting them in the same place, like locking spinach in a closet with that guy Dean who used to beat me up in fifth grade) and watching their weight, and it all caught on.

Suddenly, fat was out and skinny was in as the new hallmark of success, which made a kind of sense because in the 70s and 80s and 90s, if you were skinny that meant that you had the kind of money you needed to belong to a health club and to shop at organic grocery stores, and had the leisure time to exercise, so skinny was the new sign of success.

Then, America got smarter as newer, more intelligent, lazier generations came along. Why, we asked, should we work so hard to be skinny? How great is skinny, after all, and is it a goal to which we should all aspire? After all, if everyone was skinny, who would be the good-looking people, i.e., the people we should look up to and admire? We'd all end up like the Sneetches, unable to tell who was really skinny/worthy of our love. (Most good life lessons can be demonstrated by re-interpreting it in a Sneetchly way.) But we'd get there, to our confusing all-encompassing skinniness, by working really hard.

Skinniness was yet another in the long list of things the Boomers got wrong. Earlier generations knew that success meant no longer working hard. Make a lot of money and then relax for a while and wear a top hat and monocle. That's how it used to work. Then the Boomers decided that if you hit a life of leisure, you had to work even harder to prove that you were living a life of leisure; the richer you were, the more you have to belong to a tennis league and volunteer on school boards. Presumably, if you were to win the lottery you'd have to spend the rest of your life running ultra-marathons.

Americans looked at that, smart ones did, and thought there's got to be a better way. They-- we-- thought I'd like to be considered successful and good-looking but not do all that work. Since we could not all afford liposuction, we hit on this other method, instead, and the new method was this:

Let's just all say we're healthy and skinny and on diets and go about living our lives the way we did before.

We, as a society, just all decided to be that one lady at the office who makes a big production of bringing in a salad every day, who talks endlessly about her tae bo class she takes four mornings a week, who cuts off 1/2 a doughnut when someone brings them in and says "Well, I shouldn't" when the birthday cake gets passed around... yet who never ever ever loses a single pound.

That's America for you nowadays: We are all on a diet, we are all working out, we are all wearing the pedometers we got with our value meal from McDonalds and counting our steps and our calories and getting "right portion" sized meals at TGI Fridays -- and we're all buying pants with that Secret Elastic band in them.

That's how the Atkins diet was born: Eat a pound of bacon with ice cream for breakfast -- and still be on your diet. That's how "walking" got defined as "exercise," that's why we have videogames that are called a workout, and that's how I can consider popcorn a healthy snack: because we say things are healthy and then don't care if they are or are not.

Popcorn was among the first of the "new" healthy snacks. In the buildup to the cultural revolution that lets me order a chicken sandwich with liverwurst as a condiment, people began laying the groundwork for our new society by taking away old "healthy foods" like carrots, and replacing them with foods that seemed healthy, like "popcorn." "Popcorn" sounds healthy, right? It's got corn right in the title, and corn grows in a field, so it's like a vegetable, right?

We needed, though, to get around the fact that glowing yellow mountains of popcorn were sold at movie theaters as treats, right next to the "Goobers" and malted milk balls. So we modified popcorn, slightly: Popcorn is healthy, we reasoned if you don't put all that butter and salt on it. And away we went.

That's what I did, anyway. My diet way back when consisted of snacks like "unbuttered popcorn." My diet also found room for entire pints of Ben & Jerry's "Wavy Gravy," but despite that, it worked. I lost a lot of weight. I lost over a hundred pounds and got in great shape, and I owed it all to eating "healthy" snacks.

I'm no better than anyone else, though. I began to slide, just like society did. I continued my popcorn-snacking ways, but I reasoned my way back to good old-fashioned bad-for-you popcorn. Well, it's not the salt that adds the calories, I'd figure. If I put margarine instead of butter, that's better for me, I'd tell people. If I just don't use so much butter, it's not bad for a snack, I would tell Sweetie.

Then a guy at work told me about "Kettle Corn" and it was all over. They found a way to turn popcorn into candy but keep it being popcorn. Now, I could buy microwaveable packets of "Kettle Corn" and eat them, telling myself it was a healthy snack while simultaneously ignoring and loving the sweet, buttery flavor that was so addictive I was tempted to turn the bag inside out and lick it after I was done.

"Kettle Corn" was the last straw in the beginning of my long, slow slide back to where I began. It's popcorn covered in sugar and honey and butter and salt-- so, far from being a "healthy" snack by eliminating some or all of the unhealthy parts, Kettle Corn takes all the bad parts, and adds more bad parts... but I can still tell myself it's healthy because it's popcorn, and popcorn is a healthy snack. Just look, it says so right on the package:


With "Kettle Corn," my horizons were de-limited once again, and I could eat other healthy snacks... like ice cream (which has milk in it!) or doughnuts (which are carbs... carbs are good because they're energy, right, and our body needs energy) or Mystery Flavor Doritos because... because... how's this: because the mystery flavor is probably lettuce or something that's good for me?

You may think I'm kidding, but do you really think we're that far away, as a society -- or that you or I are that far away, as individuals -- from saying If I don't know what's in it, it must be healthy, right? That's the natrual And once we hit that stage, we'll be classifying "Mr. Pibb" as a health drink.

Which is how I ended up owning a couple of my own pairs of pants with Secret Elastic in them. My life may be inelastic, but my pants aren't. And I owe it to Kettle Corn, The Best Kind of Popcorn.







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Squirrels:








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My new life-- In Plain Sight



Are you as pumped up as I am about USA Network's new original series In Plain Sight? So pumped up that you spend your morning commute pretending to be a character in an upcoming episode, like I did there?

You don't have to take it that far to enjoy "In Plain Sight." I'm not usually a fan of crime shows, but this isn't a "crime show" the way you think of it. It's about an agent who works for the Witness Protection Program; she fights crime by helping people give up their old lives and blend into an entirely new identity in a new location -- and they'd better do it right, or they're dead.

It's a fascinating premise and the show does it justice; it's a great show-- exciting and interesting and it just drew me in. As you can tell by my Spielbergian work in the video that started this one off.

Just watch the show. It's on Sunday nights at 9 central on USA Network. You'll love it.


Sponsored by USA Network's new original series In Plain Sight

Friday, June 06, 2008

The Best Rock Band That Isn't The Beatles or U2 or The White Stripes or The New Pornographers

I've devoted 6,976 words to helping people understand what "rock and roll" really is this week.

But The Best Rock Band That Isn't The Beatles or U2 or The White Stripes or The New Pornographers could have saved me a lot of trouble and typing and carpal tunnel syndrome. (Used to be that "carpal tunnel syndrome" was taking over the world; we were all going to die as civilization crashed around us because people wouldn't be able to function as a result of their hands being twisted into unrecognizable shapes as a result of always having to hit ctrl+alt+del. Why they didn't get "carpal tunnel syndrome" in the 50s is beyond me. It's either that people were tougher then or life was tougher then and we didn't have 10,000 magazines and news channels that needed to turn every little SARS pseudoepidemic into the Next Big Death Thing.)

(Nowadays, carpal tunnel syndrome is gone. In its place, we're all going to die of peanut allergies. To fight peanut allergies, our doctor has forbidden us from giving our 21-month-old boys any peanuts or nuts until their 2nd birthday. So: At 12:01 a.m. on September 5, peanut butter is okay. 2 minutes prior to that, peanut butter = certain death/babypocalypse).

I could have saved all that typing and carpal tunnel and meandering prose if I'd just started with The Ramones first. The Ramones, who are The Best Rock Band That Isn't The Beatles or U2 or The White Stripes or The New Pornographers demonstrate that rock doesn't need 6,976 words to describe it.

It just needs three words-- rock and roll-- and three chords. That's all The Ramones did, and that's all that needs to be said.

So here's some songs from The Ramones. And some hot rocker chicks. Happy weekend!

Blitzkrieg Bop:



I Wanna Be Sedated:



I Don't Wanna Grow Up:




Pinhead:




Oh, and a little somethin' for the ladies---->








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Nonsportsmanlike Conduct! AlwaysMostlyRight!


Every day:




Thursday, June 05, 2008

The Best Rock Band That Isn't The Beatles or U2 or The White Stripes


'Tis but thy name that is my enemy;--
Thou art thyself, though not a Montague.
What's Montague? It is nor hand, nor foot,
Nor arm, nor face, nor any other part
Belonging to a man. O, be some other name!
What's in a name? that which we call a rose
By any other name would smell as sweet;
So Romeo would, were he not Romeo call'd,
Retain that dear perfection which he owes
Without that title:--Romeo, doff thy name;
And for that name, which is no part of thee,
Take all myself.


O, be some other name, The New Pornographers. Doff thy name, and for that name, which is no part of thee, take all of the rock world by storm.

I hate to be all crass and commercial here, but I'm going to anyway because while I say I hate to be all crass and commercial I don't really hate it at all; I love it. It's about making money. I'm sorry to say that. Art is about making money. If you want to be an artist and support yourself doing that, you have to make money and to make money people have to buy your stuff. To have people buy your stuff, if you're a musician, they have to hear your stuff, most likely on the radio.

It's less likely that they'll hear your stuff if your name is The New Pornographers. It's a cool name and all and very edgy and in-your-face, but it also is not very radio friendly.

I will, for the sake of the "artists" out there who are against commercial success -- i.e., they are not successful and don't want others to be -- make a second argument in favor of making your art more accessible. You make "art" because you want people to experience it, right? I write this, and my short stories and my upcoming novel (that I'm shopping around and if you'd like to take a look at it, drop me a line, it's awesome) because I want people to read them. Painters paint pictures because they want people to look at them. Singers sing because they want people to listen to them. Christopher Walken does his thing because...

... well, I don't know why Christopher Walken does anything, but I'm sure glad he does...

You get the point. Your message will be more widespread if you package it in a manner that lets people see it. I could write a brilliant poem but if I then bury it in the backyard where Nixon's secret plan was hidden, how effective is it?

More people's minds have been changed by Mr. Whipple than by all the starving artists in the world combined.

That's my argument both for The New Pornographers to change their name and for people to quit accusing bands of selling out when they become popular and have their song featured in a commercial (as The New Pornographers did with "The Bleeding Heart Show," which I first heard in a University of Phoenix ad, which is evidence that my seemingly-sarcastic comment about Mr. Whipple is more right than you thought. How many people first heard of Feist because she was on an iPod commercial? I'm raising my hand.)

Also, "The Bleeding Heart Show" should have been in "The Office," as this person shows us:



It's not selling out to try to make a little money at what you do. If I could write a commercial jingle and get paid a million bucks and then spend the rest of my life doing whatever the heck I want, including learning the entire dance from "Weapon of Choice," I'd do it in a second because then not only would my music reach about a zillion people -- and sell some cheesburgers or breath mints, sure - -but I could then keep making music and having people listen to it, with complete artistic freedom, having my music say exactly what I want it to say, breaking the boundaries that hold me to this corporate earth and soaring ever higher and higher until my efforts fairly glowed with enthusiasm and enlightened the entire world ...

Sorry. I got carried away. While I typed that paragraph I was, in fact, listening to "The Bleeding Heart Show" and got to the part where they begin saying hey la hey la over and over and that song is just really really inspiring.

So enough of this high-minded stuff. The New Pornographers should change their name because their current name is keeping some people from listening to them (based on my scientific survey of getting their new CD and having both Sweetie and Middle tell me that although they like the music they don't like the name) and so they are not as well-known or famous as they deserve to be, because they are an excellent rock band.

Just listen to "Use It."







It's songs like that which make The New Pornographers The Best Rock Band That Isn't The Beatles, or U2, or The White Stripes. Their songs combine two elements that you don't see together very often but which should be combined more -- making The New Pornographers the Reese's of the rock world. But their peanut butter-and-chocolate combination is power and brains.

The New Pornographers make complicated, smart, challenging music. Their songs are layered with meaning and instrumentation and unusual beats and strange time signatures and new instruments. Every time I listen to one of their songs, it's like a new experience even though I might know the song by heart. Ever change around the furniture in a room you've lived in for a couple of years? Everytime you come home for a few days, it's like you've moved into a fresh new place. You can see the old leg-marks from the sofa, reminding you what used to be there, but the big plant is in a new corner and there's untouched carpeting just begging to be sat on, and the TV is now near the window...

That's what listening to a song from The New Pornographers is like. You might hear acoustic guitars this time, but the next time you focus on the beat. Then, one day, the lyrics pop out at you. Their songs are more than three dimensional, somehow.

But this isn't nerdy prog-rock a la Jethro Tull or Sting. There's no moody meditations on Russians here. The New Pornographers have some muscle. They may have lyrics that you don't understand but which you suspect relate, somehow, to that philosophy class you cut a lot in college, but they also have guitars and drums enough to pound you into submission. They're not so much philosopher-kings as they are philosopher-boxers.

They know how to snag you in with a right hook of a guitar solo, then keep on pummeling you with acoustic guitars and drums, and just when you can't take it anymore, they knock you to the ground with the singing, skills they highlighted on "Mass Romantic:"



Does anyone know, by the way, how long it takes to make a Sims video like that? I'm in awe of the skill and devotion demonstrated by that, because the single time that I played Sims I not only got bored but I burned down my house. I got bored because Sims is real life only with a keyboard. I had to find a place to live, furnish the house, cook breakfast, and find a job. And then I had to go do all those things in a video game, too? (Ba dum bum!) Really, though, what's the appeal? After a hard day at the office, I go home, cook dinner, help the kids with their homework, then fire up the computer so that I can make my Sim go to the office for a while and do it all over? If I hadn't accidentally burned my sim-house down, I'd have been tempted to do it on purpose.

The New Pornographers have enough instincts and creativity that they could be bigger and more influential than The Beatles; their music, like The Beatles' forty years ago, shows where rock can go from here, where it's headed. Their music is the next step forward in rock, outlining the course for other musicians to come, while still being familiar and pop-ish enough that it's likeable now.

They've got the power to outdo U2's efforts on Rattle And Hum. In fact, if there were a fight between U2 and The New Pornographers, I'd put my money on the latter because U2's gotten a little mellow since the 90's.

They, like The White Stripes, understand how to make their rock hypnotic and pull at the innermost parts of you -- their songs make you feel inspired or like dancing or just drag you into their undertow.

It's just too bad about the name. But that's why they're only The Best Rock Band That Isn't The Beatles or U2 or The White Stripes. Which still makes them very, very good.







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Wednesday, June 04, 2008

The Best Rock Band That Isn't The Beatles or U2



Listen to this song:




Yesterday, I was driving home from work and thought about that song, "Seven Nation Army," by The White Stripes, who are The Best Rock Band That Isn't The Beatles or U2, and even without hearing the song, I began humming that beat.

I was still humming it three hours later when I went to play basketball with The Boy.

(I lost, 48-15, but it wasn't as bad as all that. I was down 31-15 at the end of our 20 minutes, and I declared that the next shot would be worth 17 points -- 18 if it was from beyond the arc. I then missed six consecutive shots and The Boy made one to win 48-15.)

"Seven Nation Army" is the only song I know that can withstand The Star Spangled Banner Surefire Annoying Song Cure. I was told about this from a friend of mine. He said if you ever get a song stuck in your head, hum "The Star Spangled Banner" because it has no real melody or catchiness and is hard to hum, so it will drive the other song out of your head without replacing it.

Some people talk about what can be done to help humanitarian relief reach Burma. I talk about what can be done to get "Livin' La Vida Loca" out of my head.

But his cure works -- except on "Seven Nation Army." I don't know what kind of voodoo The White Stripes put into that song, but it withstands everything. Just writing about it now has me humming it. It's freaking me out.

That's not why The White Stripes are The Best Rock Band That Isn't The Beatles Or U2. As The Best of Everything continues to explore what "rock" is -- because everyone gets it wrong, and everyone gets it wrong and says their music is "rock" because they want to think they are a "rocker" but they're not and their music isn't -- we're using The Best Rock Bands to show what "rock" is because it can't be defined -- Wikistupedia's 4,422 only-partially-defined attempt at doing so notwithstanding.

Rock can only be experienced.

So we've seen that Rock, as created by The Beatles, is primal and creative and ever-expanding. And rock is raw and one-upping and in-your-face-- just ask U2.

Rock is also elemental. Rock is found deep down inside of us and struggles to get out and when out, cannot be contained. If rock is sometimes a primal scream and sometimes an Apollo rocket, it is also everything contained in Pandora's Box, straining at the walls of its confinement, and once out, it cannot be put back easily; it's all the trouble in the world that makes life so sweet but also threatens to cut our lives short.




That's why The White Stripes fit up on that top shelf of rock and roll. Their music cuts straight through to that deepest, darkest, fight-or-flightiest part of us and pulls it out into the open and it cannot be put back: we love it and hate it and fear it and want it.

What, you thought it was just that their songs were catchy? If catchiness made for a great rock song, Rick Dees would be at the top of the Rock Pantheon; just try getting Disco Duck out of your head. It's not just that their songs are catchy, it's why they're catchy. Catchy songs don't stay in your head for hours and hours so that you're subconsciously cooking a grilled cheese sandwich to the beat of "Seven Nation Army." Primal songs do.

The White Stripes are just Jack and Meg -- drums and whatever instrument Jack is playing currently. Jack's voice is not that great, when you listen to it. Everyone (but me) is critical of Meg's drumming. They look weird. There's no reason they should be popular.

But they are, and that's because they make rock, real rock and roll, rock and roll that you can't ignore anymore than you can stop the hair on the back of your neck from rising up when you hear a sound at night. It's instinctual: you have to go hunt down that sound, and you have to listen to The White Stripes.

Their music, like early Beatles and U2's Rattle And Hum, strips away most of the glitz and glamour and presents a raw feeling; it's that feeling, that emotion, that elevates The White Stripes above a lot of other, similar, bands; you can't fake that kind of gut reaction. The passion behind the music carries forward into the listener and shakes him by the lapels, picking him up and making him listen like a mobster shaking down a guy that didn't pay off his bet. Listening to the best of The White Stripes' music makes me feel that way -- like I'm dangling by my shoulder blades hoping to survive this one.

The White Stripes understand that, too -- they may not be doing it consciously, but all of their music exists only to remind you that you're on the edge, that your life could take a turn for the worse at any second, so you'd better enjoy it while you can but also make sure you look over your shoulder.

The beats in their songs are almost tribal; they would not be out of place in the darkest jungles containing the worst animals that are most desired by collectors and hunters.

The guitars and keyboards in their songs are slicing and grand -- they are broadswords and battleaxes, glittering with the promise of victory... or death.


The lyrics to their songs drive home the point. In "Fell In Love With A Girl," the singer says he must be fine because his heart is still beating. Meg sings about emotions making her feel older in the cold cold night. Jack complains that he's a bleeder on "White Moon" and begs for people's throwaway scraps on "Rag and Bone," and then finally, on "I'm Lonely (But I Ain't That Lonely Yet") leaves the river just before he could get wet -- having almost drowned himself. In sorrow? In real life? Who knows?

How much of the power behind rock and roll is being sad and fighting it off, of working to catch the good in this life before the bad overtakes us? It's hard to say. But the urge to keep going, the urge to fight and claw and kick our way to the top, the urge to avoid or destroy all of those things that came from the box, the burning need we have to hold onto someone, to rise above, to struggle on, is omnipresent in The White Stripes' music, and their ability to make us stop and listen, and then listen and move, is why they're The Best Rock Band That's Not The Beatles Or U2.
















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