I think my process with learning how to cook is going to be to learn how to make basic forms of different types of dishes so that I can improvise on them after I know what legally constitutes a chili. Or, in this case, a quiche. I'm not sure why I decided to make a quiche. I've only had it a few times, but decided that my success in chili formulation that quiche should be my next step. Part of it was probably that I like omelettes for the very reason that you can basically chuck anything you have lying around in there and have it turn out sort of palatable. Add a pie crust and some half-and-half, and I'm in. Then there's the name. Quiche is hilarious and for some reason that I'm not quite sure of, sort of emasculating. I'd say it was something to do with being french and American Francophobia, but apparently it's originally a German dish, which if broad and widely inaccurate stereotypes are the basis for how we know things, should mean they're humorless but well-designed. Which I guess can apply to quiche. I'm hopeful that after a few more attempts at making food, I'll start making a quiche, then get distracted by doing something manly, like ripping down rainforests with my bare hands or rebuilding a jet engine. Or fashioning a power saw out of pit bulls and motorcycles. And then have the opportunity to look at my watch, drop whatever tree I'm holding, scream "Oh my god! My quiche!" and run away.
What I'm saying is that my life should be a middle of the road family sit-com.
As for the actual cooking, it went relatively well. I made the most basic quiche I could find (which gains points for being submitted by someone calling themselves "Doctor Kitten"), and threw half an onion, a red pepper and a jalapeno in, because vegetables are cheap and were hanging out here anyway. It wasn't as good as the chili, but that might just be because it was quiche and not chili. I definitely need to try it again, and it absolutely needs some bacon the next time I try. Some more spice, as well. The problem with making the most basic quiche imaginable is that it's sort of bland. So. Yes. Attempts at cooking continue, even if attempts at daily blogging are constantly falling behind.
Tuesday, November 10, 2009
Monday, November 09, 2009
Concert Review: Ska is Dead IV
It's impossible for me to go to a show that features the bands that were headlining Ska is Dead IV without comparing it to my first concert experiences. With new bands, I can appreciate them on their own merits, without holding them up to some ludicrous standard that was set when I was first discovering music, and imbuing it with a ridiculous sense of grandeur. When I saw Skapone at this year's Glenwood Arts Festival, I wasn't comparing them to every other time I'd seen them, because I'd never seen them before, Which was fine. They were good, by the way. Much better than the stand that was trying to sell glasses with "Penis" and "Scrotum" written on them in puffy paint for $20. Obscene on no less than two levels. But, this isn't that, and so I'm going to compare Ska is Dead IV to concerts of my youth. Get over it.
First, the venue. I've been to the Metro a number of times. There's not really much I can complain about as far as the venue itself. It does well for what it is, a mid-level club. There's at least one improvement over the clubs of my youth. The guy who sets up the equipment change music makes at least minimal effort to match the music to the show. I distinctly remember going to concerts at Club Laga where the twenty minutes between the end of The Hippos set and The Berlin Project and being assaulted with Top 40, specifically "...Baby One More Time", which not only breaks the spell by injecting a completely different kind of music into the mix, but by risking inciting a group of irrational teenagers to violence. So that's no good. Whoever's picking out music at the Metro, though, at least sort of seems to know what he's doing. If Deal's Gone Bad finishes and we're waiting for the Toasters to take the stage, it's nice to hear some Let's Go Bowling or Specials. So yes. Good job, Metro Intermission Music Guy.
The fact that Metro's got a balcony actually alleviated the fears I had about the concert being groups of high schoolers with me being creepy in the background. The crowd segregates by age, with the older attendees hanging out upstairs, where the bar is, and the kids staying downstairs, where they can run into each other and do whatever it is that I did before I realized how much I enjoy not moving all that much. I always hated the over 21s at concerts when I was young. I thought they weren't getting the full concert experience by hanging out in a cage removed from the mosh pit. Turns out, not getting shoved can be ok.
Now, the actual bands. I have to confess, I underestimated the amount to which the CTA would continue to be the bane of my existence. So an attempt to show up at least somewhat on time means I missed both Green Room Rockers and Voodoo Glow Skulls, which I was sort of devastated about. So, unfortunately, I can't review either of their performances. On to the bands that I saw. I'd never seen Deal's Gone Bad before, which is absurd as they're a Chicago band who plays here often enough, and I've been living here for four years. Since I'd never seen them, I guess I never really jumped at the opportunity to see them. I won't make that mistake again. They're what I look for in new ska bands. Go. See. Deal's Gone Bad.
The Toasters continue to have a lot fewer members than they had in their heyday, if we can call it that. The last time I saw them, there was at least Lord Sledge on trumpet and Buford O'Sullivan joining in on trombone, but last night's horn section consisted solely of a tenor sax and trombone. Which is fine, and they did fine with what they had, but I'm always hoping to see a return to their former size. A drummer I've never seen before tried to lead the crowd, which worked well enough, as most of the people there were well versed enough in Toasters albums that singing along was never a problem. The bassist, while playing well, was moving as though he wanted to be in a band other than the one that helped pioneer Third Wave, and was a little distracting. Lots of swaying. Anyway, "Bucket" Hingley was on as always. I'm not sure how old Bucket is at this point (it should be noted that Skaboom!, the band's first album, was issued in 1983, making the Toasters at least as old as I am), but he seems to still have his spark. He worked the crowd, imploring some young whippersnappers to stop trying to hurt fellow concert goers, and I was impressed by the song selection. There's a tendency, I think, to try to find the most popular album and just play that. A Rancid concert two years ago I went to was almost entirely "...And Out Come The Wolves". Which isn't a bad thing necessarily. But getting to hear everything from "Weekend in LA" to "Shocker" to "Thrill Me Up" to a few songs from Enemy of the System made me appreciate not only how deep the Toasters repretoire is, but that they're willing to play the old stuff. The kids were into it, so that worked.
It was really disconcerting to have Mustard Plug headlining a show at which the Toasters were playing. I always sort of held the Toasters in very high regard (partly because Bucket ran Moon Ska Records), and it's very weird to see them not headlining whatever show they're at. Nothing against Mustard Plug, obviously, as I've seen them absurdly often and still listen to Evildoers Beware! and Pray for Mojo. But, anyway, on to Mustard Plug. I was skeptical at how much the crowd seemed to be cheering at the bizarre lights and sustained chords intro, but it turns out that Mustard Plug is always going to be Mustard Plug. Energetic without being cartoonish (which is what I didn't like about a lot of the bands, like Reel Big Fish, that came up in the ska-punk fad) and just completely controlling the crowd. The set included most of the standards ("You", "Skank By Numbers", "Lolita") as well as two covers. One I've heard hundreds of times, to the point where I don't even recall what The Verve Pipe's version of "The Freshmen" even sounds like. They also covered "Waiting Room" by Fugazi, which I was skeptical of, but which they managed to pull off enough that I think Ian MacKaye may allow it. My only nitpick with the entire set was that for the first time in all the times I've seen Mustard Plug, the performance of "Mr. Smiley" wasn't accompanied by Dave Kirchgessner attacking the front row with a plastic axe. Additionally, I've been to a lot of shows in my time, and I've heard a lot of bands play their most popular song last, but nothing gets a crowd going like the Beer Song. My word.
On the way out, I was handed a CD from what appears to be a local band called "On Your Marx", who appears to have reformed from a mid-nineties band called "Jambalaya" that I've never heard of. With a name like On Your Marx, and a CD cover of a gold-stars-on-red-background version of the Chicago flag, I was expecting something a bit more political. It's fun enough, and I'm always supportive of a ska band with female vocals. Their song "Baby Piano" starts with a baby piano, which I guess makes sense. I'd like to hear more from On Your Marx, as the EP (which is available on their website was too short for me to make any real judgement. I'd give them a shot if I saw that they were playing somewhere.
So, there we go. Concert Review. Hooray.
First, the venue. I've been to the Metro a number of times. There's not really much I can complain about as far as the venue itself. It does well for what it is, a mid-level club. There's at least one improvement over the clubs of my youth. The guy who sets up the equipment change music makes at least minimal effort to match the music to the show. I distinctly remember going to concerts at Club Laga where the twenty minutes between the end of The Hippos set and The Berlin Project and being assaulted with Top 40, specifically "...Baby One More Time", which not only breaks the spell by injecting a completely different kind of music into the mix, but by risking inciting a group of irrational teenagers to violence. So that's no good. Whoever's picking out music at the Metro, though, at least sort of seems to know what he's doing. If Deal's Gone Bad finishes and we're waiting for the Toasters to take the stage, it's nice to hear some Let's Go Bowling or Specials. So yes. Good job, Metro Intermission Music Guy.
The fact that Metro's got a balcony actually alleviated the fears I had about the concert being groups of high schoolers with me being creepy in the background. The crowd segregates by age, with the older attendees hanging out upstairs, where the bar is, and the kids staying downstairs, where they can run into each other and do whatever it is that I did before I realized how much I enjoy not moving all that much. I always hated the over 21s at concerts when I was young. I thought they weren't getting the full concert experience by hanging out in a cage removed from the mosh pit. Turns out, not getting shoved can be ok.
Now, the actual bands. I have to confess, I underestimated the amount to which the CTA would continue to be the bane of my existence. So an attempt to show up at least somewhat on time means I missed both Green Room Rockers and Voodoo Glow Skulls, which I was sort of devastated about. So, unfortunately, I can't review either of their performances. On to the bands that I saw. I'd never seen Deal's Gone Bad before, which is absurd as they're a Chicago band who plays here often enough, and I've been living here for four years. Since I'd never seen them, I guess I never really jumped at the opportunity to see them. I won't make that mistake again. They're what I look for in new ska bands. Go. See. Deal's Gone Bad.
The Toasters continue to have a lot fewer members than they had in their heyday, if we can call it that. The last time I saw them, there was at least Lord Sledge on trumpet and Buford O'Sullivan joining in on trombone, but last night's horn section consisted solely of a tenor sax and trombone. Which is fine, and they did fine with what they had, but I'm always hoping to see a return to their former size. A drummer I've never seen before tried to lead the crowd, which worked well enough, as most of the people there were well versed enough in Toasters albums that singing along was never a problem. The bassist, while playing well, was moving as though he wanted to be in a band other than the one that helped pioneer Third Wave, and was a little distracting. Lots of swaying. Anyway, "Bucket" Hingley was on as always. I'm not sure how old Bucket is at this point (it should be noted that Skaboom!, the band's first album, was issued in 1983, making the Toasters at least as old as I am), but he seems to still have his spark. He worked the crowd, imploring some young whippersnappers to stop trying to hurt fellow concert goers, and I was impressed by the song selection. There's a tendency, I think, to try to find the most popular album and just play that. A Rancid concert two years ago I went to was almost entirely "...And Out Come The Wolves". Which isn't a bad thing necessarily. But getting to hear everything from "Weekend in LA" to "Shocker" to "Thrill Me Up" to a few songs from Enemy of the System made me appreciate not only how deep the Toasters repretoire is, but that they're willing to play the old stuff. The kids were into it, so that worked.
It was really disconcerting to have Mustard Plug headlining a show at which the Toasters were playing. I always sort of held the Toasters in very high regard (partly because Bucket ran Moon Ska Records), and it's very weird to see them not headlining whatever show they're at. Nothing against Mustard Plug, obviously, as I've seen them absurdly often and still listen to Evildoers Beware! and Pray for Mojo. But, anyway, on to Mustard Plug. I was skeptical at how much the crowd seemed to be cheering at the bizarre lights and sustained chords intro, but it turns out that Mustard Plug is always going to be Mustard Plug. Energetic without being cartoonish (which is what I didn't like about a lot of the bands, like Reel Big Fish, that came up in the ska-punk fad) and just completely controlling the crowd. The set included most of the standards ("You", "Skank By Numbers", "Lolita") as well as two covers. One I've heard hundreds of times, to the point where I don't even recall what The Verve Pipe's version of "The Freshmen" even sounds like. They also covered "Waiting Room" by Fugazi, which I was skeptical of, but which they managed to pull off enough that I think Ian MacKaye may allow it. My only nitpick with the entire set was that for the first time in all the times I've seen Mustard Plug, the performance of "Mr. Smiley" wasn't accompanied by Dave Kirchgessner attacking the front row with a plastic axe. Additionally, I've been to a lot of shows in my time, and I've heard a lot of bands play their most popular song last, but nothing gets a crowd going like the Beer Song. My word.
On the way out, I was handed a CD from what appears to be a local band called "On Your Marx", who appears to have reformed from a mid-nineties band called "Jambalaya" that I've never heard of. With a name like On Your Marx, and a CD cover of a gold-stars-on-red-background version of the Chicago flag, I was expecting something a bit more political. It's fun enough, and I'm always supportive of a ska band with female vocals. Their song "Baby Piano" starts with a baby piano, which I guess makes sense. I'd like to hear more from On Your Marx, as the EP (which is available on their website was too short for me to make any real judgement. I'd give them a shot if I saw that they were playing somewhere.
So, there we go. Concert Review. Hooray.
Saturday, November 07, 2009
Attending Concerts
I don't go to concerts anymore. Part of it, I think, is that I've finally reached that point where it's potentially creepy. If I continue to go to the shows that I've gone to my entire concert-going life, I'm the old guy now, and I'm not sure if I'm comfortable with that, both as a role and as a way of reminding me that it's been ten years since I was sixteen. The only saving grace of the whole endeavor is that my youth was spent listening to music considered by most to be a fad. For most people, bands like Reel Big Fish were popular for just about a year, then no one cared about them anymore. Oddly, I never really listened to Reel Big Fish, but rather used it as an introduction to the wider world of third-wave ska. Hence, the people that tend to show up at concerts like the one I'm going to tonight are in the same mold, people who started listening to these bands in the late 90's and have just stuck with it since then. There's still more annoying (which I can see now) young people, getting in my way and misunderstanding the rules of etiquette (bands like the Pietasters do not require a constant mosh pit, and you look like an idiot for trying one in addition to injuring people who are trying to enjoy themselves), but I think that's just a function of going to lame ska concerts. Apparently, my tastes in music are woefully adolescent.
The last concert I actually committed to going to and then showed up at was, and I think I'm not making this up, seven months ago (Mountain Goats and John Vanderslice at the Portage Theater). It had been a while before then. And while I enjoyed that show, I need to go to something or I think someone comes and confiscates the band posters and setlists that I collected from going to shows at Club Laga, and alternately either helping the horn section of the band I came to see load their van (The Berlin Project) and attempting to wake my friend up because he may have just sustained a concussion against one of the bare concrete pillars (Hatebreed/Throwdown/God Forbid). So I'm off to see Mustard Plug, The Toasters, Voodoo Glow Skulls, Deal's Gone Bad and Green Room Rockers tonight. I'll likely be back later to report on how Mustard Plug is holding up (incidentally, one of the first concerts I went to, back in 1997, was Mustard Plug, Slick Olde Bishops and, though I hadn't heard of them before the show, a Tomas Kalnoky-led Catch 22), how Rob Hingley is dealing with the fact that while he's the only remaining member of the original Toasters and has been for some time, every time I've seen them in recent years they appear to be losing members and then just not replacing them, leading to songs written for an eight-piece band being played by four. And I'll report on who on earth the Green Room Rockers are, in the event that I show up early enough to see them (who starts a concert at 5:00 pm on a Saturday?).
The last concert I actually committed to going to and then showed up at was, and I think I'm not making this up, seven months ago (Mountain Goats and John Vanderslice at the Portage Theater). It had been a while before then. And while I enjoyed that show, I need to go to something or I think someone comes and confiscates the band posters and setlists that I collected from going to shows at Club Laga, and alternately either helping the horn section of the band I came to see load their van (The Berlin Project) and attempting to wake my friend up because he may have just sustained a concussion against one of the bare concrete pillars (Hatebreed/Throwdown/God Forbid). So I'm off to see Mustard Plug, The Toasters, Voodoo Glow Skulls, Deal's Gone Bad and Green Room Rockers tonight. I'll likely be back later to report on how Mustard Plug is holding up (incidentally, one of the first concerts I went to, back in 1997, was Mustard Plug, Slick Olde Bishops and, though I hadn't heard of them before the show, a Tomas Kalnoky-led Catch 22), how Rob Hingley is dealing with the fact that while he's the only remaining member of the original Toasters and has been for some time, every time I've seen them in recent years they appear to be losing members and then just not replacing them, leading to songs written for an eight-piece band being played by four. And I'll report on who on earth the Green Room Rockers are, in the event that I show up early enough to see them (who starts a concert at 5:00 pm on a Saturday?).
Mythologies
And I've already fallen two days behind. I'll catch up, though, so I'm going to count it as being alright. Part of the problem is that I've finished up at Northwestern, and in trying to get a job, I've taken a position at a company that I won't explicitly name, but that has me getting up at seven in the morning, so prime blogging hours after work have been taken up with "I need sleep or I'm going to die". But we're back, and so the November Project marches onward.
I've talked before about my prediliction for getting into different mythologies. I find something, get excited that there's back story that I don't know that other people find absurdly important, and dive in, learning as much as I can. I recently repeated the process with Green Lantern (which, incidentally, was a really good decision, considering that I happened to decide to start looking over the mythology so that I'd be up to speed when the Blackest Night event started, which I'll review here later), and I'm remembering the process as I'm rewatching the new series of Doctor Who with Marina's roommates. I'm still not sure if I'm committed enough to watch the old series, though I did spend my fair amount of time looking back over synopses of Jon Pertwee's exploits.
Continuing my newfound comic book reading schedule (which has recently expanded to include Grant Morrison's Batman and Robin, the Red Tornado series and Justice Society of America (after Geoff Johns run), both of which I'll comment on sometime during the month, I finally got around to seriously making an attempt at reading Gaiman's Sandman. I won't attempt any sort of review of it, as that's already been done a thousand times over, but more than getting into a new mythology (especially as one as rich as Gaiman's prone to creating), reading Sandman gave me more the feeling of "how on earth could I have not read this". I've still got two TPBs to go in the main series, and it's suddenly earned a spot on the Things I Will Buy When I Have a Steady Job That Pays Something, Rather Than Nothing list.
More tomorrow, including, likely, a review of Blackest Night so far.
I've talked before about my prediliction for getting into different mythologies. I find something, get excited that there's back story that I don't know that other people find absurdly important, and dive in, learning as much as I can. I recently repeated the process with Green Lantern (which, incidentally, was a really good decision, considering that I happened to decide to start looking over the mythology so that I'd be up to speed when the Blackest Night event started, which I'll review here later), and I'm remembering the process as I'm rewatching the new series of Doctor Who with Marina's roommates. I'm still not sure if I'm committed enough to watch the old series, though I did spend my fair amount of time looking back over synopses of Jon Pertwee's exploits.
Continuing my newfound comic book reading schedule (which has recently expanded to include Grant Morrison's Batman and Robin, the Red Tornado series and Justice Society of America (after Geoff Johns run), both of which I'll comment on sometime during the month, I finally got around to seriously making an attempt at reading Gaiman's Sandman. I won't attempt any sort of review of it, as that's already been done a thousand times over, but more than getting into a new mythology (especially as one as rich as Gaiman's prone to creating), reading Sandman gave me more the feeling of "how on earth could I have not read this". I've still got two TPBs to go in the main series, and it's suddenly earned a spot on the Things I Will Buy When I Have a Steady Job That Pays Something, Rather Than Nothing list.
More tomorrow, including, likely, a review of Blackest Night so far.
Wednesday, November 04, 2009
Attempting Chili
So Food Network has taken over most of my TV watching. I think it started when I got bored in lab and decided to watch Hell's Kitchen (the US version) on Hulu while things were stirring (which isn't on Food Network, but it involves food and that's close enough, damn it), then finding the US version of Kitchen Nightmares on Comcast On Demand, but that wasn't so much instructional from a culinary standpoint and more "Gordon Ramsay's going to yell at some more stuff, humiliate people, and make you feel better about your personal housekeeping because hey, you don't have rotting food and disgustingness everywhere, hopefully". That led, slowly, to watching reality shows about cooking that actually involve "making food taste good" as part of the show concept. I stopped short of actually using any of the programming for instruction (though Alton Brown tempted me, with his seductive, alluring approach and hairstyle). But I think it might have shaken up the part of my brain that whispers "You should cook something other than frozen pizza. It's sort of like chemistry. You could probably not screw it up too badly."
Usually, I gleefully ignore that part of my brain, rip open another flattish cardboard box, preheat to 400 (without looking at the dial, so engrained is that in my muscle memory) and resign to another night of DiGiorno (if I'm feeling ritzy). A few days ago, however, I got it in my mind to try my hand at a chili. A few notes as to my thought process here.
First, I decided on white chili. I always assumed I wouldn't like chili in my childhood (I think because I have an intensely negative reaction to the idea of kidney beans which may or may not be tied to the urban myth where you wake up in a bathtub of ice). White chili, or at least the recipe I used, uses "Great Northern Beans". They're great! It's right there in the name! That's pleasant. So, that was settled.
Secondly, for being a chemist who's used to changing the size of whatever reaction I happen to be working on (and currently working on scale-up at a process development plant), I sure have no concept of when a recipe's too large. The five (!) cans of beans should have clued me in. Now, I'm sure chili keeps for at least a day, and I did have the foresight to buy some containers so that I don't have to buy lunch tomorrow, but my word. There's so much chili.
Third, and this has nothing to do with the chili, but Wikipedia claims that DiGiorno's website makes a claim about "having been around for over ten years". Which is great, and I'm certainly no expert on the fast-paced world of frozen pizza brands, but going back ten years only gets you to Toy Story 2. Or the second Austin Powers. And given my own concerns about how quickly time is passing, I'm going to maintain that those were pretty much yesterday, and "over ten years" is not something to brag about.
As for the actual chili, it turned out pretty well. And now I own cumin and cayenne pepper, so I'm planning on doing this again. When my "endless-cans-of-beans" budget is back up.
Usually, I gleefully ignore that part of my brain, rip open another flattish cardboard box, preheat to 400 (without looking at the dial, so engrained is that in my muscle memory) and resign to another night of DiGiorno (if I'm feeling ritzy). A few days ago, however, I got it in my mind to try my hand at a chili. A few notes as to my thought process here.
First, I decided on white chili. I always assumed I wouldn't like chili in my childhood (I think because I have an intensely negative reaction to the idea of kidney beans which may or may not be tied to the urban myth where you wake up in a bathtub of ice). White chili, or at least the recipe I used, uses "Great Northern Beans". They're great! It's right there in the name! That's pleasant. So, that was settled.
Secondly, for being a chemist who's used to changing the size of whatever reaction I happen to be working on (and currently working on scale-up at a process development plant), I sure have no concept of when a recipe's too large. The five (!) cans of beans should have clued me in. Now, I'm sure chili keeps for at least a day, and I did have the foresight to buy some containers so that I don't have to buy lunch tomorrow, but my word. There's so much chili.
Third, and this has nothing to do with the chili, but Wikipedia claims that DiGiorno's website makes a claim about "having been around for over ten years". Which is great, and I'm certainly no expert on the fast-paced world of frozen pizza brands, but going back ten years only gets you to Toy Story 2. Or the second Austin Powers. And given my own concerns about how quickly time is passing, I'm going to maintain that those were pretty much yesterday, and "over ten years" is not something to brag about.
As for the actual chili, it turned out pretty well. And now I own cumin and cayenne pepper, so I'm planning on doing this again. When my "endless-cans-of-beans" budget is back up.
Tuesday, November 03, 2009
The November Project
Yes. I know about NaNoWriMo, but frankly, I'm not that good at creative fiction and will probably never write a novel, so it seems odd to sit down and go after it like a madman for one month near the end of the year. I'm glad it exists for other people, but it's not for me. That said, when I actually made the commitment to sit down and write one blog post a day in February 2008, I did it and felt pretty good about it. I was exhausted by the end (because I am just this side of being the least interesting man in the world) and wound up gasping for air and reaching for every possible post topic I could find.
But it's kind of absurd that the past year has been announcing my attention to read comics and the yearly Mascot Bracket and nothing else. So, even though it's already the third of the month, I'm going to start it up again: The November Project. Perhaps the next several years will be filled with long gaps in content, followed by a few weeks of feverishly writing to a self-imposed deadline, followed by more gaps until I have a series of "The X Project" where X is every month. For now, though, let's do it.
The November Project is on.
But it's kind of absurd that the past year has been announcing my attention to read comics and the yearly Mascot Bracket and nothing else. So, even though it's already the third of the month, I'm going to start it up again: The November Project. Perhaps the next several years will be filled with long gaps in content, followed by a few weeks of feverishly writing to a self-imposed deadline, followed by more gaps until I have a series of "The X Project" where X is every month. For now, though, let's do it.
The November Project is on.
Thursday, April 02, 2009
I guess it isn't.
I've been going to D&D Dogs in Evanston since I moved to Chicago. Somehow (likely because I usually don't get a receipt, but possibly as a result of their recent renovation) I'd never noticed this before. It appears that the system they use to punch the orders in contains a weensy William Carlos Williams, who doesn't want me to get too self-important over my meal.
Thursday, March 19, 2009
Final Four and Championship
#13 Cleveland State Vikings vs. #5 Purdue Boilermakers
Apparently, Purdue was able to make it to the Final Four before it finally ran into someone with opposable thumbs. Caked with the remains of large wild cats, there's little the Boilermaker Special is going to be able to do to stop the Vikings from simply boarding and dismantling the thing with their mustaches. Also, as I understand it, Viking is more of a free-floating scheduled job, whereas trains have scheduled stops and run the risk of pissing off their passengers if they miss them. Vikings don't have to deal with that (even if they do piss off their passengers, it's not like they're going to mouth off to the guy with the axe. Cleveland State makes the Championship Round.
#16 East Tennessee State Buccaneers vs. #16 Radford Highlanders
I don't care how much Johnny Depp you've got, or how many Keith Richards cameos you're planning on throwing at that antler-hat fellow, if your life consists of disease, starvation and occasional theft to survive, you're not going to stand much of a chance. The Field Museum has got a pirate exhibit opening up that I'm excited to go see, but all the ticket sales in the world aren't going hold up against those shoulders. Radford makes it to the Championship.
Championship
#13 Cleveland State Vikings vs. #16 Radford Highlanders
Unlike last year's bracket, both competitors that reached the final round existed. Highlanders still exist, though I imagine they're a bit less like the mascot with his inexplicable helmet and more like politicians and athletes and so forth. That said, and I swear I wasn't running with this the entire time as I'm making it all up as I go, I think I'm going to have to give this one to the Highlanders. Sure, some of them are laypeople (just as some Vikings are Hagar) but in the end I've got to go with "potentially immortal" over "sea-faring".
Your 2009 Murphspot Mascot Bracket Champions
Must not make "there can be only one" joke.
The Radford University Highlanders
So, there we are. A bit later than I'd have liked it to be up, but it's done and I'm going to get back to actually being a scientist. Comments on any or all of it are welcome and encouraged. Links to the right if you've missed any of this nonsense.
Apparently, Purdue was able to make it to the Final Four before it finally ran into someone with opposable thumbs. Caked with the remains of large wild cats, there's little the Boilermaker Special is going to be able to do to stop the Vikings from simply boarding and dismantling the thing with their mustaches. Also, as I understand it, Viking is more of a free-floating scheduled job, whereas trains have scheduled stops and run the risk of pissing off their passengers if they miss them. Vikings don't have to deal with that (even if they do piss off their passengers, it's not like they're going to mouth off to the guy with the axe. Cleveland State makes the Championship Round.
#16 East Tennessee State Buccaneers vs. #16 Radford Highlanders
I don't care how much Johnny Depp you've got, or how many Keith Richards cameos you're planning on throwing at that antler-hat fellow, if your life consists of disease, starvation and occasional theft to survive, you're not going to stand much of a chance. The Field Museum has got a pirate exhibit opening up that I'm excited to go see, but all the ticket sales in the world aren't going hold up against those shoulders. Radford makes it to the Championship.
Championship
#13 Cleveland State Vikings vs. #16 Radford Highlanders
Unlike last year's bracket, both competitors that reached the final round existed. Highlanders still exist, though I imagine they're a bit less like the mascot with his inexplicable helmet and more like politicians and athletes and so forth. That said, and I swear I wasn't running with this the entire time as I'm making it all up as I go, I think I'm going to have to give this one to the Highlanders. Sure, some of them are laypeople (just as some Vikings are Hagar) but in the end I've got to go with "potentially immortal" over "sea-faring".
Must not make "there can be only one" joke.
The Radford University Highlanders
So, there we are. A bit later than I'd have liked it to be up, but it's done and I'm going to get back to actually being a scientist. Comments on any or all of it are welcome and encouraged. Links to the right if you've missed any of this nonsense.
Elite Eight
#13 Cleveland State Vikings vs. #15 Robert Morris Colonials
Unfortunately for Robert Morris, I don't believe "Colonials" just applies to the military. Anyone that lives in a colony is a colonial. LARPers for profit in Williamsburg are Colonials. They just seem like the kind of people that would be readily pillaged, and if there's one thing I've learned about vikings in my lifetime, it's that they're good at that. This, then, is the end of the line for Robert Morris, and Cleveland State makes the increasingly improbable Final Four.
#5 Purdue Boilermakers vs. #3 Missouri Tigers
At this point, I'm afraid I'm no longer objective. I just actively want tigers to die. Normally, that kind of conflict of interest would cause me to recuse myself from the Mascot Bracket and have the rest of it filled out by someone who hasn't been driven to the point of madness by the beasts, but in this case, I'm just going to fall back on what I established in the first round and Sweet Sixteen and say that large cat doesn't stand up to "goddamn train". Purdue advances.
#16 East Tennessee State Buccaneers vs. #6 UCLA Bruins
My friend Ben raised a good point. I've got to pick a suitable environment for this matchup. Pirates tend to hang out on stolen ships and ports and Disney World, while bears tend to stick to forests and mountains and Disney World. It seems like waiting for the Pirates to make it far enough inland to be in a forest or for bears to captain a pirate ship (which would be terrifying) are slim, so I'll have to pick their only common ground, Disney World. Which wins? Pirates of the Caribbean or Country Bear Jamboree? Animatronic drunkards and rapists or animatronic yokel minstrel bears? The pirates still have weapons instead of banjos, so East Tennessee State makes the Final Four.
#16 Radford Highlanders vs. #14 stephen F. Austin Lumberjacks
Lumberjacks are great, and all, but when you really get down to it, they're big dudes in flannel with axes. I'm not saying that I'd fight a lumberjack, and I certainly have the utmost respect for lumberjacks, but I think the likelihood that they're going to spend a significant amount of their time in the Pacific Northwest has got to count as a strike against. That highlander still has a huge sword and it's not often that a kilt makes it into the Final Four, so I'm going to have to go with Radford once again.
Unfortunately for Robert Morris, I don't believe "Colonials" just applies to the military. Anyone that lives in a colony is a colonial. LARPers for profit in Williamsburg are Colonials. They just seem like the kind of people that would be readily pillaged, and if there's one thing I've learned about vikings in my lifetime, it's that they're good at that. This, then, is the end of the line for Robert Morris, and Cleveland State makes the increasingly improbable Final Four.
#5 Purdue Boilermakers vs. #3 Missouri Tigers
At this point, I'm afraid I'm no longer objective. I just actively want tigers to die. Normally, that kind of conflict of interest would cause me to recuse myself from the Mascot Bracket and have the rest of it filled out by someone who hasn't been driven to the point of madness by the beasts, but in this case, I'm just going to fall back on what I established in the first round and Sweet Sixteen and say that large cat doesn't stand up to "goddamn train". Purdue advances.
#16 East Tennessee State Buccaneers vs. #6 UCLA Bruins
My friend Ben raised a good point. I've got to pick a suitable environment for this matchup. Pirates tend to hang out on stolen ships and ports and Disney World, while bears tend to stick to forests and mountains and Disney World. It seems like waiting for the Pirates to make it far enough inland to be in a forest or for bears to captain a pirate ship (which would be terrifying) are slim, so I'll have to pick their only common ground, Disney World. Which wins? Pirates of the Caribbean or Country Bear Jamboree? Animatronic drunkards and rapists or animatronic yokel minstrel bears? The pirates still have weapons instead of banjos, so East Tennessee State makes the Final Four.
#16 Radford Highlanders vs. #14 stephen F. Austin Lumberjacks
Lumberjacks are great, and all, but when you really get down to it, they're big dudes in flannel with axes. I'm not saying that I'd fight a lumberjack, and I certainly have the utmost respect for lumberjacks, but I think the likelihood that they're going to spend a significant amount of their time in the Pacific Northwest has got to count as a strike against. That highlander still has a huge sword and it's not often that a kilt makes it into the Final Four, so I'm going to have to go with Radford once again.
East/South Regions, Sweet Sixteen
#16 East Tennessee State Buccaneers vs. #13 Portland State Vikings
Again, the Mascot Bracket arrives on an interesting hypothetical. Which style of naval warfare will prevail? I know I've been big on Vikings in this bracket, and even moreso on Portland State given the fact that they seem to employ Boba Fett. However, the Buccaneers have the advantage of advanced weaponry, as well as Johnny Depp. Granted, they've also got to put up with Orlando Bloom.
Still a douche.
I think they'll overcome that, though, and triumph over the Vikings. East Tennessee State makes the Elite Eight.
#6 UCLA Bruins vs. #2 Duke Blue Devils
I've been running along pretty strong with the concept that an elite French military unit is going to be able to hold it's own, but I think I've been missing the true point of the mascot bracket by not looking into the big, plastic-y eyes of the Duke Blue Devil.
Look upon my jowls, ye mighty, and despair.
Seriously, what the hell is that? I've been defending Penn Jillette in a mask? Even if I allow that, what's with the goalie gloves? No. This shall not continue. That guy would get eaten by a bear. UCLA advances.
#16 Radford Highlanders vs. #12 Western Kentucky Hilltoppers
This one's kind of painful, as it pits the lead singer of a band whose entire catalog is about Tolkein and leather harnesses against Big Red, who I imagine reigns over Muppets like some kind of benevolent dictator. Unfortunately for Big Red, the Highlander's sword is a bit too menacing, his boots a bit too "burlap sack tied with rope" for any outcome in which Western Kentucky would move on. Radford wins.
#14 Stephen F. Austin Lumberjacks vs. #15 Morgan State Bears
Close call. Both spend their life in the forest. Bears are vicious and, if Timothy Treadwell has taught us anything, can totally eat you. Lumberjacks are big and tough and know their way around a chainsaw. I think the Lumberjacks probably win because they've likely got a better range, even if they do have to rely on weapons rather than brute strength. Plus, I don't often see bears competing to see who can stay on a rolling log in water (birling!) and therefore Stephen F. Austin moves on.
Again, the Mascot Bracket arrives on an interesting hypothetical. Which style of naval warfare will prevail? I know I've been big on Vikings in this bracket, and even moreso on Portland State given the fact that they seem to employ Boba Fett. However, the Buccaneers have the advantage of advanced weaponry, as well as Johnny Depp. Granted, they've also got to put up with Orlando Bloom.
Still a douche.
I think they'll overcome that, though, and triumph over the Vikings. East Tennessee State makes the Elite Eight.
#6 UCLA Bruins vs. #2 Duke Blue Devils
I've been running along pretty strong with the concept that an elite French military unit is going to be able to hold it's own, but I think I've been missing the true point of the mascot bracket by not looking into the big, plastic-y eyes of the Duke Blue Devil.
Look upon my jowls, ye mighty, and despair.
Seriously, what the hell is that? I've been defending Penn Jillette in a mask? Even if I allow that, what's with the goalie gloves? No. This shall not continue. That guy would get eaten by a bear. UCLA advances.
#16 Radford Highlanders vs. #12 Western Kentucky Hilltoppers
This one's kind of painful, as it pits the lead singer of a band whose entire catalog is about Tolkein and leather harnesses against Big Red, who I imagine reigns over Muppets like some kind of benevolent dictator. Unfortunately for Big Red, the Highlander's sword is a bit too menacing, his boots a bit too "burlap sack tied with rope" for any outcome in which Western Kentucky would move on. Radford wins.
#14 Stephen F. Austin Lumberjacks vs. #15 Morgan State Bears
Close call. Both spend their life in the forest. Bears are vicious and, if Timothy Treadwell has taught us anything, can totally eat you. Lumberjacks are big and tough and know their way around a chainsaw. I think the Lumberjacks probably win because they've likely got a better range, even if they do have to rely on weapons rather than brute strength. Plus, I don't often see bears competing to see who can stay on a rolling log in water (birling!) and therefore Stephen F. Austin moves on.
Midwest/West Regions, Sweet Sixteen
#9 Siena Saints vs. #13 Cleveland State Vikings
Even presuming that the saints are the patron saints of heavy artillery or preemptive warfare or whatever isn't going to save them this time. It really breaks down to one advantage for Cleveland State here. Saints have round, glowing halos and piety and flowing robes and occasionally are surrounded by squirrels. Vikings have metal helmets with big "get the hell out of my way" horns on them and axes and facial hair and body odor. Cleveland State moves on to the Elite Eight.
#6 West Virginia Mountaineers vs. #15 Robert Morris Colonials
Here's something I thought we'd never encounter in the mascot bracket: the Grandfather Paradox. If the Mountaineers kill the Colonials, does that mean that the United States never successfully gains independence from Britain, meaning that West Virginia (hell, Virginia as a whole) remains a British-controlled colony and mountaineering never takes place, having been replaced by dry humor and boiled food? Whether you resolve this through the Novikov self-consistency principle (in which whatever happened must have happened all along) or some sort of parallel timeline setup (in which the Mountaineers may be able to beat the Colonials of a separate timeline but will never return to this one), the only solution I can come up with the Colonials winning.
Grandfather Paradoxes make me think of Heroes, which makes me sad because season 3 nearly killed me with awfulness.
Robert Morris advances.
#8 Brigham Young Cougars vs. #5 Purdue Boilermakers
I'm really starting to think that this is going to be a "how long until Purdue matches up against a person" endurance run. I really see no way a cougar is going to take down a train. The only way I can even begin to address the issue is to propose that Brigham Young doesn't mean cougars in the P. Concolor sense but in the older woman interested in younger men sense, but that's a stretch and risks sacrificing the undying integrity of the Murphspot Mascot Bracket. There's nothing I can do. Purdue advances.
#3 Missouri Tigers vs. #7 California Golden Bears
Seriously, how are there this many "bear/tiger" matchups? I'm going to write a letter to the NCAA, because this is nonsense. How are we, the peripherally-interested-in-college-basketball to come up with a winner when all of the mascots are the same? I think I'm going to go with Missouri, but I'm not sure why. My will has been broken. You've won, NCAA Mascots. You've won. Missouri moves on and I don't know who I am anymore.
Even presuming that the saints are the patron saints of heavy artillery or preemptive warfare or whatever isn't going to save them this time. It really breaks down to one advantage for Cleveland State here. Saints have round, glowing halos and piety and flowing robes and occasionally are surrounded by squirrels. Vikings have metal helmets with big "get the hell out of my way" horns on them and axes and facial hair and body odor. Cleveland State moves on to the Elite Eight.
#6 West Virginia Mountaineers vs. #15 Robert Morris Colonials
Here's something I thought we'd never encounter in the mascot bracket: the Grandfather Paradox. If the Mountaineers kill the Colonials, does that mean that the United States never successfully gains independence from Britain, meaning that West Virginia (hell, Virginia as a whole) remains a British-controlled colony and mountaineering never takes place, having been replaced by dry humor and boiled food? Whether you resolve this through the Novikov self-consistency principle (in which whatever happened must have happened all along) or some sort of parallel timeline setup (in which the Mountaineers may be able to beat the Colonials of a separate timeline but will never return to this one), the only solution I can come up with the Colonials winning.
Grandfather Paradoxes make me think of Heroes, which makes me sad because season 3 nearly killed me with awfulness.
Robert Morris advances.
#8 Brigham Young Cougars vs. #5 Purdue Boilermakers
I'm really starting to think that this is going to be a "how long until Purdue matches up against a person" endurance run. I really see no way a cougar is going to take down a train. The only way I can even begin to address the issue is to propose that Brigham Young doesn't mean cougars in the P. Concolor sense but in the older woman interested in younger men sense, but that's a stretch and risks sacrificing the undying integrity of the Murphspot Mascot Bracket. There's nothing I can do. Purdue advances.
#3 Missouri Tigers vs. #7 California Golden Bears
Seriously, how are there this many "bear/tiger" matchups? I'm going to write a letter to the NCAA, because this is nonsense. How are we, the peripherally-interested-in-college-basketball to come up with a winner when all of the mascots are the same? I think I'm going to go with Missouri, but I'm not sure why. My will has been broken. You've won, NCAA Mascots. You've won. Missouri moves on and I don't know who I am anymore.
Wednesday, March 18, 2009
South Region, Round Two
#16 Radford Highlanders vs. #8 Louisiana State Tigers
See, this is a matchup. Absurd headbanging Highlander with a giant sword and antler hat against another tiger. Despite my tentative links to Louisiana State (I did some research there in 2005), I'm going to have to go with Radford. Those thighs are too thick, and a tiger seems like exactly the kind of thing that the Radford Highlander would kill, hollow out and wear. Radford moves on.
#12 Western Kentucky Hilltoppers vs. #13 Akron Zips
I'm not sure what on earth Big Red is, and so it's hard to tell whether he'd win in a deathmatch with a kangaroo. Big Red has also got a pouch on his thigh, which I guess makes him a marsupial, which adds a bit of drama to the matchup. The fact that an Italian television station more or less stole the design of Big Red for their mascot, Gabibbo says to me that they know something I don't, and so I'm going with Western Kentucky again.
#6 Arizona State Sun Devils vs. #14 Stephen F. Austin Lumberjacks
I wish Sun Devils were an actual thing. If they were, even if they were some desert insect or some sort of solar event, they'd stand a chance here. As it stands, Arizona State has a cartoonish man in a leotard with a trident, while Stephen F. Austin have Lumberjacks who have axes and beards and flannel. Stephen F. Austin goes on.
#7 Clemson Tigers vs. #15 Morgan State Bears
This is the third "bear/tiger" matchup we've come across in our mascot bracket journey. I have stopped caring about which would win, but just because there aren't as many bears generally in the tournament, I'm going to go with the rationale I used in the Cal/Memphis matchup and just give this to Morgan State.
See, this is a matchup. Absurd headbanging Highlander with a giant sword and antler hat against another tiger. Despite my tentative links to Louisiana State (I did some research there in 2005), I'm going to have to go with Radford. Those thighs are too thick, and a tiger seems like exactly the kind of thing that the Radford Highlander would kill, hollow out and wear. Radford moves on.
#12 Western Kentucky Hilltoppers vs. #13 Akron Zips
I'm not sure what on earth Big Red is, and so it's hard to tell whether he'd win in a deathmatch with a kangaroo. Big Red has also got a pouch on his thigh, which I guess makes him a marsupial, which adds a bit of drama to the matchup. The fact that an Italian television station more or less stole the design of Big Red for their mascot, Gabibbo says to me that they know something I don't, and so I'm going with Western Kentucky again.
#6 Arizona State Sun Devils vs. #14 Stephen F. Austin Lumberjacks
I wish Sun Devils were an actual thing. If they were, even if they were some desert insect or some sort of solar event, they'd stand a chance here. As it stands, Arizona State has a cartoonish man in a leotard with a trident, while Stephen F. Austin have Lumberjacks who have axes and beards and flannel. Stephen F. Austin goes on.
#7 Clemson Tigers vs. #15 Morgan State Bears
This is the third "bear/tiger" matchup we've come across in our mascot bracket journey. I have stopped caring about which would win, but just because there aren't as many bears generally in the tournament, I'm going to go with the rationale I used in the Cal/Memphis matchup and just give this to Morgan State.
East Region, Round Two
#16 East Tennessee State Buccaneers vs. #8 Oklahoma State Cowboys
I'm surprised "Pirates vs. Cowboys" isn't as prevalent a hypothetical battle as "Pirates v. Ninjas". I suppose it might have something to do with the stereotypical "sitting around the fire, eating beans and spinning yarns" view that cowboys tend to evoke. Perhaps it's just a way of preserving Pirate/Ninja conversations so that Tony Romo can't weasel his way into the conversation. Either way, I think Buccaneers win this matchup, if only because their job involves attacking people and taking their possessions by force, while cowboys move cattle. East Tennessee State advances.
#5 Florida State Seminoles vs. #13 Portland State Vikings
Two proud peoples, and it's hard to say who would win in a fight. I'd like to give this to the Seminoles (if only because "Unconquered People" is a pretty badass nickname), but I think they might get points taken off for living in Florida. Vikings, on the other hand, live where people shouldn't, and as a result wound up in Canada. Also, the logo is actually a nice deviation from the standard Viking logo.
Apparently Vikings were Mandalorians. Who knew?
Portland State wins.
#6 UCLA Bruins vs. #3 Villanova Wildcats
I'm still not sure why so many schools use Wildcats as their mascot. They're tiny, they're very closely related to domestic cats (F. Silvestris versus F. Silvestris Catus) and I'm pretty sure they could be punted a good thirty feet. Not that I would. But "adorable" doesn't get you far against a big ol' brown bear. UCLA advances
#7 Texas Longhorns vs. #2 Duke Blue Devils
I'd be terrified if a bull were running at me, but I'm not sure that a longhorn poses quite the same threat. Something about how the horns go off to the side makes me think I'd be able to avoid it while it tried to figure out how to gore me. Without making any jokes about French military prowess post-Napoleon, I'm sure they'd be able to hold their own. I'm not exactly sure about the temperment of longhorns anyway. I'd like to think they're a bit more aggressive, but every cow I've ever encountered just sort of stands around. Duke moves on.
I'm surprised "Pirates vs. Cowboys" isn't as prevalent a hypothetical battle as "Pirates v. Ninjas". I suppose it might have something to do with the stereotypical "sitting around the fire, eating beans and spinning yarns" view that cowboys tend to evoke. Perhaps it's just a way of preserving Pirate/Ninja conversations so that Tony Romo can't weasel his way into the conversation. Either way, I think Buccaneers win this matchup, if only because their job involves attacking people and taking their possessions by force, while cowboys move cattle. East Tennessee State advances.
#5 Florida State Seminoles vs. #13 Portland State Vikings
Two proud peoples, and it's hard to say who would win in a fight. I'd like to give this to the Seminoles (if only because "Unconquered People" is a pretty badass nickname), but I think they might get points taken off for living in Florida. Vikings, on the other hand, live where people shouldn't, and as a result wound up in Canada. Also, the logo is actually a nice deviation from the standard Viking logo.
Apparently Vikings were Mandalorians. Who knew?
Portland State wins.
#6 UCLA Bruins vs. #3 Villanova Wildcats
I'm still not sure why so many schools use Wildcats as their mascot. They're tiny, they're very closely related to domestic cats (F. Silvestris versus F. Silvestris Catus) and I'm pretty sure they could be punted a good thirty feet. Not that I would. But "adorable" doesn't get you far against a big ol' brown bear. UCLA advances
#7 Texas Longhorns vs. #2 Duke Blue Devils
I'd be terrified if a bull were running at me, but I'm not sure that a longhorn poses quite the same threat. Something about how the horns go off to the side makes me think I'd be able to avoid it while it tried to figure out how to gore me. Without making any jokes about French military prowess post-Napoleon, I'm sure they'd be able to hold their own. I'm not exactly sure about the temperment of longhorns anyway. I'd like to think they're a bit more aggressive, but every cow I've ever encountered just sort of stands around. Duke moves on.
West Region, Round Two
#1 Connecticut Huskies vs. #8 Brigham Young Cougars
I've got a lot of respect for Huskies. They run across Alaska (I'm not even sure I could do that) and they seem to be pleasant enough while also being big enough that I wouldn't one one in my apartment complex. Unfortunately, running across barren wilderness isn't an event in the Murphspot Mascot Bracket Challenge. I'm a man of science and if there's one immutable law of the universe, it's that if you put a cougar and a husky in a cage, the husky's not walking out.
Brigham Young moves on.
#5 Purdue Boilermakers vs. #13 Mississippi State Bulldogs
Purdue always wrecks this. There's not much that's going to stand up to a train, and since life isn't a heart-warming children's movie in which animals can talk and may or may not wear conductor hats, there's not a whole lot a bulldog is going to be able to do to a train. I could ease up and go with the idea that the boilermaker is the guy that makes the boiler, or that it's referring to whiskey and a beer, but a bulldog's not going to be able to do much to those things either. Purdue advances.
#11 Utah State Aggies vs. #3 Missouri Tigers
I'm sensing that we're going to come to a tiger bottleneck at some point and I'm going to have to decide between which one of the thirty tigers is going to be superior. Unfortunately, I can't deal with that here. I don't care how much agricultural science you know, a tiger isn't something you want to be in a deathmatch with. Missouri goes on.
#7 California Golden Bears vs. #2 Memphis Tigers
Didn't I just have a Bear/Tiger matchup last round? Cal's bear is a lot less tumor-y and seems to have a snarl, which to me suggests ferocity, while the Memphis tiger appears to be miming driving.
Your mascot is less likely to win a fight if its "lunging" posture is the same as its "Mario Kart" posture.
While I'm not sure bears and tigers tend to hang out a lot, and therefore have no way to confirm which would win in this matchup, I'm going to say that Cal advances.
I've got a lot of respect for Huskies. They run across Alaska (I'm not even sure I could do that) and they seem to be pleasant enough while also being big enough that I wouldn't one one in my apartment complex. Unfortunately, running across barren wilderness isn't an event in the Murphspot Mascot Bracket Challenge. I'm a man of science and if there's one immutable law of the universe, it's that if you put a cougar and a husky in a cage, the husky's not walking out.
Brigham Young moves on.
#5 Purdue Boilermakers vs. #13 Mississippi State Bulldogs
Purdue always wrecks this. There's not much that's going to stand up to a train, and since life isn't a heart-warming children's movie in which animals can talk and may or may not wear conductor hats, there's not a whole lot a bulldog is going to be able to do to a train. I could ease up and go with the idea that the boilermaker is the guy that makes the boiler, or that it's referring to whiskey and a beer, but a bulldog's not going to be able to do much to those things either. Purdue advances.
#11 Utah State Aggies vs. #3 Missouri Tigers
I'm sensing that we're going to come to a tiger bottleneck at some point and I'm going to have to decide between which one of the thirty tigers is going to be superior. Unfortunately, I can't deal with that here. I don't care how much agricultural science you know, a tiger isn't something you want to be in a deathmatch with. Missouri goes on.
#7 California Golden Bears vs. #2 Memphis Tigers
Didn't I just have a Bear/Tiger matchup last round? Cal's bear is a lot less tumor-y and seems to have a snarl, which to me suggests ferocity, while the Memphis tiger appears to be miming driving.
Your mascot is less likely to win a fight if its "lunging" posture is the same as its "Mario Kart" posture.
While I'm not sure bears and tigers tend to hang out a lot, and therefore have no way to confirm which would win in this matchup, I'm going to say that Cal advances.
Midwest Region, Round Two
#16 Morehead State Eagles vs. #9 Siena Saints
I think this one really depends on which saint we're talking about. If it's St. Francis of Assisi, which would probably not be a bad guess as it's a Franciscan university, the eagle's probably going to win as the saint's not going to attack. If it's the patron saint of hunters (Hubertus, evidently), then the eagle's not going to stand much of a chance. I'm going to presume it's either Hubertus or Gummarus (lumberjacks) or Isidore of Seville (computer scientists) and give the win to Siena
#5 Utah Utes vs. #13 Cleveland State Vikings
Now that I've got all the Macchio out of my system in the first round, this seems like an easier decision. Utah's got purposefully weakened beer, wacky government (insofar as "backwards and borderline oppressive" can be considered wacky) and movies with Matthew Lillard and Jason Segel. Vikings have axes and Thor. Cleveland State wins.
#6 West Virginia Mountaineers vs. #3 Kansas Jayhawks
I don't know much about the mountaineering lifestyle, but I'm positive it involves shooting things, mythical or otherwise. In addition, the Kansas Jayhawk appears to be wearing giant yellow clown shoes.
I have no idea how he buckled them
That seals it. West Virginia advances.
#10 USC Trojans vs. #15 Robert Morris Colonials
USC, unfortunately and through no fault of their own, make me think of those annoying "Trojan Man" commercials, which are just this side of "five dollar footlong" in terms of sticking in my head. The Colonials stir up bad memories of a "Colonial Inn Diner" where a friend of mine tried to order eggs florentine before being told that the fact that there was a picture of it on the menu was not meant to imply that they served it. Overall, I'm going with Robert Morris, as we've got the matchup of two military factions and I feel like I should go with the one that won their war.
I think this one really depends on which saint we're talking about. If it's St. Francis of Assisi, which would probably not be a bad guess as it's a Franciscan university, the eagle's probably going to win as the saint's not going to attack. If it's the patron saint of hunters (Hubertus, evidently), then the eagle's not going to stand much of a chance. I'm going to presume it's either Hubertus or Gummarus (lumberjacks) or Isidore of Seville (computer scientists) and give the win to Siena
#5 Utah Utes vs. #13 Cleveland State Vikings
Now that I've got all the Macchio out of my system in the first round, this seems like an easier decision. Utah's got purposefully weakened beer, wacky government (insofar as "backwards and borderline oppressive" can be considered wacky) and movies with Matthew Lillard and Jason Segel. Vikings have axes and Thor. Cleveland State wins.
#6 West Virginia Mountaineers vs. #3 Kansas Jayhawks
I don't know much about the mountaineering lifestyle, but I'm positive it involves shooting things, mythical or otherwise. In addition, the Kansas Jayhawk appears to be wearing giant yellow clown shoes.
I have no idea how he buckled them
That seals it. West Virginia advances.
#10 USC Trojans vs. #15 Robert Morris Colonials
USC, unfortunately and through no fault of their own, make me think of those annoying "Trojan Man" commercials, which are just this side of "five dollar footlong" in terms of sticking in my head. The Colonials stir up bad memories of a "Colonial Inn Diner" where a friend of mine tried to order eggs florentine before being told that the fact that there was a picture of it on the menu was not meant to imply that they served it. Overall, I'm going with Robert Morris, as we've got the matchup of two military factions and I feel like I should go with the one that won their war.
South Region, Round One
#1 North Carolina Tar Heels vs. #16 Radford Highlanders
Two teams whose names derive from generic terms for people. I'd love to see a game in which actual Tar Heels (let's say Zach Galifianakis, Reginald VelJohnson, Charlie Rose, Ben Folds and Andy Griffith) against natives of the Scottish Highlands (William Barclay, Yvette Cooper, John Shepherd-Barron, inventor of the ATM, the Loch Ness Monster and Connor MacLeod). But, as this is a mascot bracket, the focus should be on the mascots. Rameses has got this cocky swagger and, I think, too many curves in his horns. The mascot for Radford is this guy.
If your mascot is clearly listening to anthemic metal, it means you win.
Look at that guy. Even if we ignore the absurdly large muscles, he's still got an enormous sword, a helmet that strangely has one centered antler and some pretty impressive Conan-the-Barbarian hair. I'll even ignore that the artist got us as close to seeing his package as is allowed for sports logos. Radford with the upset.
#8 Louisiana state Tigers vs. #9 Butler Bulldogs
This bulldog is more clearly a British Bulldog with a hell of an underbite. As it stands, that's not that threatening. Which is a shame, as they could have fixed the entire ordeal with a rhinestone Union Jack, some ridiculous braids and enough bronzer to drown an anteater.
Davey Boy Smith is not going to stand for your Cajun nonsense
As it stands, though, we've got a diminutive dog going up against Mike VI, who weighs 300 lbs and lives off of a diet of palmetto bugs and fear. Which there's plenty of, because of the palmetto bugs. I haven't been there in four years and I still have nightmares about three-inch flying cockroaches. Christ. Ok. Let's move on. LSU wins.
#5 Illinois Fighting Illini vs. #12 Western Kentucky Hilltoppers
With the retirement of Chief Illiniwek in 2007, I'm afraid the chances for Illinois go way down. It's just very difficult to win a mascot-fight-to-the-death when you have no mascot, and your only logo is a big orange I.
"Oksee-Wow-WaaauughOhGodmyflesh"
While the Hilltoppers would certainly lose if this were a "fearsome team name" bracket, they enter with a bizarre, abstract mascot named Big Red who just seems to be having so much fun I'm tempted to move to Western Kentucky.
Having the caption be anything other than "Whee-hah!" would be blasphemy. So, "Whee-hah!"
Western Kentucky wins.
#4 Gonzaga Bulldogs vs. #13 Akron Zips
Zips, or zippers, are rubber overshoes. Ignoring the mascot for a second, the way to strike fear in my heart is not to be galoshes. I've never been scared of galoshes. Galoshes full of spiders, perhaps, but the galoshes are incidental to that. Their actual mascot is Zippy the Kangaroo (who I'm disappointed to report doesn't have his own saturday morning cartoon) and he's going up against a bulldog. My first thought was that the bulldog would have the advantage, but I imagine a kangaroo could kick a bulldog in the head pretty hard. Akron moves on despite the uninspiring name.
#6 Arizona State Sun Devils vs. Temple Owls
Owls can be scary. I've been in the forest at night with a screech owl, and I'm pretty sure neither of us were happy with the expierence. He wasn't down with my presence in his habitat, and I wasn't down with his hell-screams and was convinced that he was using them to tear my soul from my body. That said, Sparky the Sun Devil has a cartoonish mustache, a leotard and a trident rather than a pitchfork. Still, it's stabby. Arizona State moves on.
#3 Syracuse Orange vs. #14 Stephen F. Austin Lumberjacks
I have to admit, I follow college sports with such little tenacity that it hadn't even struck me that Syracuse ceased being the "Orangemen" in 2004. Orangemen might have had a chance here, but shortening the team name to "Orange" means there's no chance I can allow them to move on. You could argue that the name refers to the color, and as such, the section of the electromagnetic spectrum we perceive as orange isn't vulnerable to an axe to the face, but given the mascot, Otto the Orange, the Lumberjacks aren't only going to defeat them, they're going to consume them as part of a balanced breakfast. Stephen F. Austin moves on.
#7 Clemson Tigers vs. #10 Michigan Wolverines
Lots of tigers this year. I like that, because tigers are generally going to provide for some better fights than last year's ever-present wildcats. Unfortunately for Michigan, they're offering up what amounts to a large weasel that probably doesn't even have an adamantium laced skeleton. They do have Mathman's support, but I believe Mr. Glitch went to Clemson for a few years before backpacking around Europe, so I'm going to have to go with Clemson here.
It's surprising he could do elementary math at all with such a disproportionately tiny foot. Mathman is an inspiration
#2 Oklahoma Sooners vs. #15 Morgan State Bears
I have known a few Oklahomans in my time. Sooners, the original settlers of the Unassigned Lands that became Oklahoma, I imagine were resourceful, hard working and determined. If you threw one of them in a cage with a bear, though, I don't think the Sooner is walking out. Sure, they've probably got guns, but I've been doing a bit too much of the specist stuff in this round, and I'm going to go with Wikipedia's insistence that Sooners were often land surveyors and try to imagine the Sooner being armed only with a dumpy level and their wits. Yeah. Morgan State moves to round two.
Next up: Round Two.
Two teams whose names derive from generic terms for people. I'd love to see a game in which actual Tar Heels (let's say Zach Galifianakis, Reginald VelJohnson, Charlie Rose, Ben Folds and Andy Griffith) against natives of the Scottish Highlands (William Barclay, Yvette Cooper, John Shepherd-Barron, inventor of the ATM, the Loch Ness Monster and Connor MacLeod). But, as this is a mascot bracket, the focus should be on the mascots. Rameses has got this cocky swagger and, I think, too many curves in his horns. The mascot for Radford is this guy.
If your mascot is clearly listening to anthemic metal, it means you win.
Look at that guy. Even if we ignore the absurdly large muscles, he's still got an enormous sword, a helmet that strangely has one centered antler and some pretty impressive Conan-the-Barbarian hair. I'll even ignore that the artist got us as close to seeing his package as is allowed for sports logos. Radford with the upset.
#8 Louisiana state Tigers vs. #9 Butler Bulldogs
This bulldog is more clearly a British Bulldog with a hell of an underbite. As it stands, that's not that threatening. Which is a shame, as they could have fixed the entire ordeal with a rhinestone Union Jack, some ridiculous braids and enough bronzer to drown an anteater.
Davey Boy Smith is not going to stand for your Cajun nonsense
As it stands, though, we've got a diminutive dog going up against Mike VI, who weighs 300 lbs and lives off of a diet of palmetto bugs and fear. Which there's plenty of, because of the palmetto bugs. I haven't been there in four years and I still have nightmares about three-inch flying cockroaches. Christ. Ok. Let's move on. LSU wins.
#5 Illinois Fighting Illini vs. #12 Western Kentucky Hilltoppers
With the retirement of Chief Illiniwek in 2007, I'm afraid the chances for Illinois go way down. It's just very difficult to win a mascot-fight-to-the-death when you have no mascot, and your only logo is a big orange I.
"Oksee-Wow-WaaauughOhGodmyflesh"
While the Hilltoppers would certainly lose if this were a "fearsome team name" bracket, they enter with a bizarre, abstract mascot named Big Red who just seems to be having so much fun I'm tempted to move to Western Kentucky.
Having the caption be anything other than "Whee-hah!" would be blasphemy. So, "Whee-hah!"
Western Kentucky wins.
#4 Gonzaga Bulldogs vs. #13 Akron Zips
Zips, or zippers, are rubber overshoes. Ignoring the mascot for a second, the way to strike fear in my heart is not to be galoshes. I've never been scared of galoshes. Galoshes full of spiders, perhaps, but the galoshes are incidental to that. Their actual mascot is Zippy the Kangaroo (who I'm disappointed to report doesn't have his own saturday morning cartoon) and he's going up against a bulldog. My first thought was that the bulldog would have the advantage, but I imagine a kangaroo could kick a bulldog in the head pretty hard. Akron moves on despite the uninspiring name.
#6 Arizona State Sun Devils vs. Temple Owls
Owls can be scary. I've been in the forest at night with a screech owl, and I'm pretty sure neither of us were happy with the expierence. He wasn't down with my presence in his habitat, and I wasn't down with his hell-screams and was convinced that he was using them to tear my soul from my body. That said, Sparky the Sun Devil has a cartoonish mustache, a leotard and a trident rather than a pitchfork. Still, it's stabby. Arizona State moves on.
#3 Syracuse Orange vs. #14 Stephen F. Austin Lumberjacks
I have to admit, I follow college sports with such little tenacity that it hadn't even struck me that Syracuse ceased being the "Orangemen" in 2004. Orangemen might have had a chance here, but shortening the team name to "Orange" means there's no chance I can allow them to move on. You could argue that the name refers to the color, and as such, the section of the electromagnetic spectrum we perceive as orange isn't vulnerable to an axe to the face, but given the mascot, Otto the Orange, the Lumberjacks aren't only going to defeat them, they're going to consume them as part of a balanced breakfast. Stephen F. Austin moves on.
#7 Clemson Tigers vs. #10 Michigan Wolverines
Lots of tigers this year. I like that, because tigers are generally going to provide for some better fights than last year's ever-present wildcats. Unfortunately for Michigan, they're offering up what amounts to a large weasel that probably doesn't even have an adamantium laced skeleton. They do have Mathman's support, but I believe Mr. Glitch went to Clemson for a few years before backpacking around Europe, so I'm going to have to go with Clemson here.
It's surprising he could do elementary math at all with such a disproportionately tiny foot. Mathman is an inspiration
#2 Oklahoma Sooners vs. #15 Morgan State Bears
I have known a few Oklahomans in my time. Sooners, the original settlers of the Unassigned Lands that became Oklahoma, I imagine were resourceful, hard working and determined. If you threw one of them in a cage with a bear, though, I don't think the Sooner is walking out. Sure, they've probably got guns, but I've been doing a bit too much of the specist stuff in this round, and I'm going to go with Wikipedia's insistence that Sooners were often land surveyors and try to imagine the Sooner being armed only with a dumpy level and their wits. Yeah. Morgan State moves to round two.
Next up: Round Two.
Tuesday, March 17, 2009
East Region, Round One
#1 Pittsburgh Panthers vs. #16 East Tennessee State Buccaneers
The homer part of me wants Pitt to win this, but I just don't see how they can. Panthers are vicious, sure. We've been over my feelings on big cats (or small cats with exceptionally sharp claws), but a Buccaneer's likely got a musket, a sword and is probably pretty pissed off about having scurvy.
Though, this particular buccaneer may not pose too much of a threat, as he's cyanotic.
Even with the various medical conditions the Buccaneers are no doubt infected with, I'm going to have to go with them. East Tennessee State moves on to the second round
#8 Oklahoma State Cowboys vs. #9 Tennessee Volunteers
I appreciate the spirit of volunteerism. I don't do it enough. But this is about a fight to the death, and Habitat for Humanity doesn't have an answer for dangerous loners who spend all their time with cattle. Moreover, when I hear "cowboy", I think of westerns generally, and I'm pretty sure Clint Eastwood could kill whoever the hell he wanted. In fact, I'm not sure why the whole "Chuck Norris joke" phenomenon had to happen to Chuck Norris instead of Mr. Eastwood. Clint has the bonus of being both relevant and not batshit insane.
#5 Florida State Seminoles vs. #12 Wisconsin Badgers
Again with the "human versus animal" matchup. Badgers have this reputation for being vicious and are good at holding on if they've decided to bite you, but they're going up against the Unconquered People, who I'm positive would be able to take down a rodent. Florida State in a rout.
#4 Xavier Musketeers vs. #13 Portland State Vikings
Xavier was the champion of last year's Murphspot Mascot Bracket, but they run into some tough competition early. I'm not sure how giant wooden boats are going to hold up against musket fire, but in general, I think the facial hair of the Vikings is going to help them. Somehow. I'm not sure. Against the vicious attack of the Vikings, the Musketeers are going to have to ask for some strategic assistance from someone who knows their strength and weaknesses.
Oh boy
Portland State with the upset.
#6 UCLA Bruins vs. #11 Virginia Commonwealth Rams
These matchups always seem simple. Bears kill things pretty easily, and I was trying to think of how a ram could conceivably kill a bear. The best I've come up with is either causing some kind of internal hemmoraging with blunt force from the horns, or luring the bear up onto a mountain, getting it to unwittingly stand on the edge and pushing it off. That seems a bit too "cartoon villain" to be plausible, so I'll go with the simple answer and say the ram's getting mauled. UCLA takes it.
#3 Villanova Wildcats vs. #14 American University Eagles
Two of the most overused mascots in the NCAA. I'd like to imagine that this will end in complete destruction of both, just to thin the herd of wildcats and eagles. Realistically, though, even though the wildcat's a lot smaller than I expected, I'm going to have to go with Villanova. Cartoon cats kill cartoon birds, and that's good enough for me.
#7 Texas Longhorns vs. #10 Minnesota Golden Gophers
Here, we've got a tiny burrowing rodent. Apparently the "true gopher" is the "pocket gopher" which doesn't inspire much terror. If "my word, that thing's small enough for me to carry around as though it were spare change" is part of the name of the animal, that's a strike against. To be fair, "Goldy Gopher" appears to be a chipmunk, which is a bit less embarassing, but I don't like having to play with what the hell the mascot is. Longhorns, on the other hand, have big spears on the side of their heads. Texas it is.
#2 Duke Blue Devils vs. #15 Binghamton Bearcats
The Blue Devils (Les Diables Bleus) were an elite French mountain infantry unit. The bearcat (Binturong) isn't a bear, a cat, and appears to spend most of its time hanging out in trees.
They also like to eat benches, I guess.
The bearcats get points for the coincidence that typing "bearcat" only uses the left hand, but whimsical observations aren't enough to save it from the Blue Devils, even if they are French. Duke wins.
The homer part of me wants Pitt to win this, but I just don't see how they can. Panthers are vicious, sure. We've been over my feelings on big cats (or small cats with exceptionally sharp claws), but a Buccaneer's likely got a musket, a sword and is probably pretty pissed off about having scurvy.
Though, this particular buccaneer may not pose too much of a threat, as he's cyanotic.
Even with the various medical conditions the Buccaneers are no doubt infected with, I'm going to have to go with them. East Tennessee State moves on to the second round
#8 Oklahoma State Cowboys vs. #9 Tennessee Volunteers
I appreciate the spirit of volunteerism. I don't do it enough. But this is about a fight to the death, and Habitat for Humanity doesn't have an answer for dangerous loners who spend all their time with cattle. Moreover, when I hear "cowboy", I think of westerns generally, and I'm pretty sure Clint Eastwood could kill whoever the hell he wanted. In fact, I'm not sure why the whole "Chuck Norris joke" phenomenon had to happen to Chuck Norris instead of Mr. Eastwood. Clint has the bonus of being both relevant and not batshit insane.
#5 Florida State Seminoles vs. #12 Wisconsin Badgers
Again with the "human versus animal" matchup. Badgers have this reputation for being vicious and are good at holding on if they've decided to bite you, but they're going up against the Unconquered People, who I'm positive would be able to take down a rodent. Florida State in a rout.
#4 Xavier Musketeers vs. #13 Portland State Vikings
Xavier was the champion of last year's Murphspot Mascot Bracket, but they run into some tough competition early. I'm not sure how giant wooden boats are going to hold up against musket fire, but in general, I think the facial hair of the Vikings is going to help them. Somehow. I'm not sure. Against the vicious attack of the Vikings, the Musketeers are going to have to ask for some strategic assistance from someone who knows their strength and weaknesses.
Oh boy
Portland State with the upset.
#6 UCLA Bruins vs. #11 Virginia Commonwealth Rams
These matchups always seem simple. Bears kill things pretty easily, and I was trying to think of how a ram could conceivably kill a bear. The best I've come up with is either causing some kind of internal hemmoraging with blunt force from the horns, or luring the bear up onto a mountain, getting it to unwittingly stand on the edge and pushing it off. That seems a bit too "cartoon villain" to be plausible, so I'll go with the simple answer and say the ram's getting mauled. UCLA takes it.
#3 Villanova Wildcats vs. #14 American University Eagles
Two of the most overused mascots in the NCAA. I'd like to imagine that this will end in complete destruction of both, just to thin the herd of wildcats and eagles. Realistically, though, even though the wildcat's a lot smaller than I expected, I'm going to have to go with Villanova. Cartoon cats kill cartoon birds, and that's good enough for me.
#7 Texas Longhorns vs. #10 Minnesota Golden Gophers
Here, we've got a tiny burrowing rodent. Apparently the "true gopher" is the "pocket gopher" which doesn't inspire much terror. If "my word, that thing's small enough for me to carry around as though it were spare change" is part of the name of the animal, that's a strike against. To be fair, "Goldy Gopher" appears to be a chipmunk, which is a bit less embarassing, but I don't like having to play with what the hell the mascot is. Longhorns, on the other hand, have big spears on the side of their heads. Texas it is.
#2 Duke Blue Devils vs. #15 Binghamton Bearcats
The Blue Devils (Les Diables Bleus) were an elite French mountain infantry unit. The bearcat (Binturong) isn't a bear, a cat, and appears to spend most of its time hanging out in trees.
They also like to eat benches, I guess.
The bearcats get points for the coincidence that typing "bearcat" only uses the left hand, but whimsical observations aren't enough to save it from the Blue Devils, even if they are French. Duke wins.
West Region, Round One
#1 Connecticut Huskies vs. #16 Chattanooga Mocs
Everyone else that's even taken any kind of cursory glance at the bracket has already done the "What the hell's a Moc?" joke, and after looking up the athletic program at University of Tennessee at Chattanooga, I've got to say they'd have had a better chance in this if they'd stuck with their original mascot. A water moccasin could actually present a challenge to a dog like a husky, as it's probably getting bitten at some point. The intermediate mascots (a moccasin, as in a shoe, and "Chief Moccanooga") could have offered some interesting matchups (Chief Moccanooga doesn't seem to be a reference to anything really, but could probably have killed a dog), but what we're left with is a mockingbird. A mockingbird driving a train, sure, but as the train only appears in the logo, it's not fair to include that in the mascot death match. Huskies advance.
#8 Brigham Young Cougars vs. #9 Texas A&M Aggies
Puma concolor is intimidating. They've got teeth and claws and I can hardly deal with housecats coming after me without nearly dying. Bonus, apparently the Apache and Walapai of Arizona regard the wail of the cougar as a harbinger of death (presumably by cougar on your carotid). Aggies have perhaps the most accurate team name (as "Aggie" simply means "student at an agricultural college", which all of the players are), but I can't imagine that any amount of schoolwork is going to help you when you hear the Wail of the Cougar (coincidentally my favorite Twisted Sister album). Also, an image search for Aggies turned up this camel-dog-with-makeup-that-evidnetly-sings unholy driver cover. As far as I know, this is offered from an independent agency and the camel-dog-from-the-underwold isn't technically the mascot of Texas A&M, but it's too frightening not to include.
Enjoy the nightmares
Brigham Young wins.
#5 Purdue Boilermakers vs. #12 Northern Iowa Panthers
It's going to be tough to beat a train. I suppose that you could make an argument that an actual "boilermaker" is the guy that makes them, but he's probably pretty handy with a wrench and I wouldn't want to fight one. Given that the actual mascot is the Boilermaker Special, a train, I'm going with that. As much as I made the case during the last matchup for the ferocity of a giant cat, it's not doing anything but getting run over here. Purdue moves on.
#4 Washington Huskies vs. #13 Mississippi State Bulldogs
This matchup makes me feel uncomfortably like Michael Vick. I can't tell from a picture of the mascot whether the bulldog in question is of the British or American variety, but considering that it's Mississippi, I'll presume it's American. Huskies can run across Alaska and have the nifty heterochromia thing on their side, but I'm pretty sure a bulldog could bite my arm off if it really felt like it. Given the two, I am going to go with the bulldog based on nothing in particular. Mississippi State with the upset.
#6 Marquette Golden Eagles vs. #11 Utah State Aggies
I appreciate the specificity. It's finally not just an eagle, it's a specific eagle. It also makes me think of Coach, but those were the Screaming Eagles, so I'm not sure why that is. Maybe it's just a fond nostalgia for Bill Fagerbakke.
"Lovable Dimwitted Assistant Coach" Bill Fagerbakke, not "Neo-Nazi Prison Guard" Bill Fagerbakke
I'm actually going to go with the Aggies here, as I imagine that they'd be able to figure out how to kill an eagle (either directly or by manipulating the ecosystem), even if they have chosen willingly to live in Utah. Utah State wins.
#3 Missouri Tigers vs. #14 Cornell Big Red
Since Big Red's an abstract team name, I'm going with their mascot, Big Red Bear, making this matchup awesome. Tiger vs. Bear is the sort of death match that should be on an album cover or, failing that, Fox. I'm going with the Tigers for two reasons. First, while bears are terrifying and spend their time killing you in Werner Herzog movies, they spend a lot of their time hibernating (important in March). Secondly, the mascot appears to have some sort of back issues.
"Oh crap. I have to turn in this logo, but I've got no idea how to draw a bear's hindquarters. They're got giant tumors, right?"
Missouri moves on.
#7 California Golden Bears vs. #10 Maryland Terrapins
I grew up with the concept that turtles, if given enough toxic waste and a giant rat as a teacher, can learn martial arts and protect reporters in yellow jumpsuits. As I've gotten older, I've learned that dumping toxic waste on turtles causes protests, that giant rats are riddled with disease, and that reporters in jumpsuits don't deserve protection.
Maybe she minored in Auto Repair. I still don't get it.
Given that this is a bear going up against a standard turtle with no superpowers or junk food, Cal takes this in a walk.
#2 Memphis Tigers vs. #15 Cal State Northridge Matadors
Another Tiger versus this year's bullfighters (as San Diego's Toreros aren't in the tournament), and though I went with the human last time, I'm going to say that the tiger wins this. Sure, the Matador has got the sword and the banderillas and the big fancy cape, but all the impressive cape-twirls in the world aren't going to stop Montecore here from tearing a leg off. Memphis advances.
East Region, Round One when I get a chance.
Everyone else that's even taken any kind of cursory glance at the bracket has already done the "What the hell's a Moc?" joke, and after looking up the athletic program at University of Tennessee at Chattanooga, I've got to say they'd have had a better chance in this if they'd stuck with their original mascot. A water moccasin could actually present a challenge to a dog like a husky, as it's probably getting bitten at some point. The intermediate mascots (a moccasin, as in a shoe, and "Chief Moccanooga") could have offered some interesting matchups (Chief Moccanooga doesn't seem to be a reference to anything really, but could probably have killed a dog), but what we're left with is a mockingbird. A mockingbird driving a train, sure, but as the train only appears in the logo, it's not fair to include that in the mascot death match. Huskies advance.
#8 Brigham Young Cougars vs. #9 Texas A&M Aggies
Puma concolor is intimidating. They've got teeth and claws and I can hardly deal with housecats coming after me without nearly dying. Bonus, apparently the Apache and Walapai of Arizona regard the wail of the cougar as a harbinger of death (presumably by cougar on your carotid). Aggies have perhaps the most accurate team name (as "Aggie" simply means "student at an agricultural college", which all of the players are), but I can't imagine that any amount of schoolwork is going to help you when you hear the Wail of the Cougar (coincidentally my favorite Twisted Sister album). Also, an image search for Aggies turned up this camel-dog-with-makeup-that-evidnetly-sings unholy driver cover. As far as I know, this is offered from an independent agency and the camel-dog-from-the-underwold isn't technically the mascot of Texas A&M, but it's too frightening not to include.
Enjoy the nightmares
Brigham Young wins.
#5 Purdue Boilermakers vs. #12 Northern Iowa Panthers
It's going to be tough to beat a train. I suppose that you could make an argument that an actual "boilermaker" is the guy that makes them, but he's probably pretty handy with a wrench and I wouldn't want to fight one. Given that the actual mascot is the Boilermaker Special, a train, I'm going with that. As much as I made the case during the last matchup for the ferocity of a giant cat, it's not doing anything but getting run over here. Purdue moves on.
#4 Washington Huskies vs. #13 Mississippi State Bulldogs
This matchup makes me feel uncomfortably like Michael Vick. I can't tell from a picture of the mascot whether the bulldog in question is of the British or American variety, but considering that it's Mississippi, I'll presume it's American. Huskies can run across Alaska and have the nifty heterochromia thing on their side, but I'm pretty sure a bulldog could bite my arm off if it really felt like it. Given the two, I am going to go with the bulldog based on nothing in particular. Mississippi State with the upset.
#6 Marquette Golden Eagles vs. #11 Utah State Aggies
I appreciate the specificity. It's finally not just an eagle, it's a specific eagle. It also makes me think of Coach, but those were the Screaming Eagles, so I'm not sure why that is. Maybe it's just a fond nostalgia for Bill Fagerbakke.
"Lovable Dimwitted Assistant Coach" Bill Fagerbakke, not "Neo-Nazi Prison Guard" Bill Fagerbakke
I'm actually going to go with the Aggies here, as I imagine that they'd be able to figure out how to kill an eagle (either directly or by manipulating the ecosystem), even if they have chosen willingly to live in Utah. Utah State wins.
#3 Missouri Tigers vs. #14 Cornell Big Red
Since Big Red's an abstract team name, I'm going with their mascot, Big Red Bear, making this matchup awesome. Tiger vs. Bear is the sort of death match that should be on an album cover or, failing that, Fox. I'm going with the Tigers for two reasons. First, while bears are terrifying and spend their time killing you in Werner Herzog movies, they spend a lot of their time hibernating (important in March). Secondly, the mascot appears to have some sort of back issues.
"Oh crap. I have to turn in this logo, but I've got no idea how to draw a bear's hindquarters. They're got giant tumors, right?"
Missouri moves on.
#7 California Golden Bears vs. #10 Maryland Terrapins
I grew up with the concept that turtles, if given enough toxic waste and a giant rat as a teacher, can learn martial arts and protect reporters in yellow jumpsuits. As I've gotten older, I've learned that dumping toxic waste on turtles causes protests, that giant rats are riddled with disease, and that reporters in jumpsuits don't deserve protection.
Maybe she minored in Auto Repair. I still don't get it.
Given that this is a bear going up against a standard turtle with no superpowers or junk food, Cal takes this in a walk.
#2 Memphis Tigers vs. #15 Cal State Northridge Matadors
Another Tiger versus this year's bullfighters (as San Diego's Toreros aren't in the tournament), and though I went with the human last time, I'm going to say that the tiger wins this. Sure, the Matador has got the sword and the banderillas and the big fancy cape, but all the impressive cape-twirls in the world aren't going to stop Montecore here from tearing a leg off. Memphis advances.
East Region, Round One when I get a chance.
Midwest Region, Round One
Play-In Game
Alabama State Hornets vs. Morehead State Eagles
If there's one thing last year's mascot bracket taught me, it's that a disproportionate number of schools are attempting to instill fear in their athletic opponents by using either an Eagle or a Wildcat. I'm a little disappointed that we're starting out with the birds already, but that's certainly no reason to take this matchup any less seriously. I really dislike hornets. They sting, they're intimidating, and they tended to nest on the bleachers at my high school, which made summers slightly less fun. That said, we've got an unpleasant wasp going up against a bird whose entire raison d'être is killing things and eating them. Sorry, Alabama State. Morehead State takes the play-in.
Bruce Lee is displeased, having just been informed that an Eagle is going to peck his eyes out through that mask.
#1 Louisville Cardinals vs. #16 Morehead State Eagles
We've got one game decided (that typically doesn't even count for an office bracket) and I'm already on edge about the number of birds in this tournament. That said, I've seen cardinals. They're brightly colored, sing and eat seeds and have that nifty little plume thing on the top of their heads, and if it weren't for them, I wouldn't have just learned, via wikipedia, what a "passerine" is. That said, I'm not sure something which hangs out in woodlands and is known for being both easy to spot and not eating things that aren't seed-ish is going to be able to take on something that's got so much experience nabbing fish out of the water in flight, not to mention holding an olive branch and enough arrows to make Oliver Queen take notice while apparently hovering. Morehead State advances again in the biggest upset in NCAA history.
#8 Ohio State Buckeyes vs. #9 Siena Saints
This one's tough. "Saints", presumably, refers to people who have been canonized, as Siena College is a Franciscan institution. The mascot, though, instead of being "Saint Andrei the Iconographer" or "Saint Maximus the Confessor" is a St. Bernard. The dog. With the barrels and the saving people and the awkward Charles Grodin/Bonnie Hunt nonsense.
He's embarassed for you, Mr. Grodin
I'm tempted to go with the Buckeyes here (as buckeyes are poisonous), but I'm going to presume that the dog/Iconographer is going to instinctively avoid eating them, and rather just urinate on something. Also, if it hadn't been for Siena just now, I wouldn't know that Wikipedia has a list of Flying Saints, which I imagine has got to be useful for a basketball tournament. Plus, one of them's Saint Christina the Astonishing, and any connection to Nick Cave and the Bad Seeds' "Henry's Dream" album is going to get bonus points. Siena advances.
#5 Utah Utes vs. #12 Arizona Wildcats
The obvious thing to do here is to make a "What is a Ute?" joke and run with My Cousin Vinny humor. I'd like to avoid that, but there's two things that are stopping me. First, Ralph Macchio looks exactly the same as he did in 1992.
Forty-seven, my ass
It's only logical to assume he's still got the knowledge he'd picked up as the Karate Kid and would be able to take down a wildcat, which were established last year as not being particularly intimidating. Secondly, the "ute" line was delivered by Fred Gwynne, and Fred Gwynne is too awesome not to advance. Utes advance.
#4 Wake Forest Demon Deacons vs. #13 Cleveland State Vikings
Demon Deacons is a pretty awesome name. One thinks of the climax of The Exorcist, or if you're a little bit less of a purist about what constitutes a demon, the scene in 28 Days Later where Cillian Murphy enters the church after waking up from his coma, both of which are going to be pretty intimidating no matter who you are. On the other hand, Vikings have swords, long boats with shields and oars and their own haplogroup. I think I might have to go with the beardy fellows with the axes over the unstable clergy. Cleveland State with the upset.
#6 West Virginia Mountaineers vs. #11 Dayton Flyers
Having grown up in western Pennsylvania, I've got a pretty good understanding of West Virginia and their Mountaineers. Sure, the Alleghenies aren't as high or as steep as the Rockies, but I feel like if I wanted to learn Mountaineering under some sort of master Mountaineer, they'd do just fine.
I am positive this man knows things I do not. I am more than happy to keep it that way.
The Flyers, on the other hand, have flight, but that seems to be about it. They evoke little red wagons in my mind, which a Mountaineer would surely stomp on before using it to beat some elk to death and then wear them. Or something. They certainly don't provoke the same "dangerously insane/lives where no one could hear you scream" vibe that I get from the Mountaineers. West virginia moves on.
#3 Kansas Jayhawks vs. #14 North Dakota State Bison
"Jayhawk" is apparently a Civil war term adopted by Kansas abolitionists, combining a blue jay (which is noisy) and a sparrow hawk (which is apparently not, but I'm in no position to confirm). So, that's certainly a bonus. Bison, on the other hand, I've seen footage of and seem to be pretty huge, even if we do tend to kill them off in large numbers. If I go with "Jayhawk" as refering to the abolitionist group, they've probably got guns and could take down a bison. If I go with the "mythical but tiny bird", it's going to get stomped to death by 2000 pounds of bison. As much as I'd like to go with North Dakota here, I'm going to presume they mean the abolitionist (for the time being) and go with Kansas. What I don't envy is the sad truth that after the Jayhawk shoots the bison down, they're only going to be able to take 100 pounds of meat back to their wagon. And that's not enough to stop anyone from getting cholera or breaking a wagon axle.
#7 Boston college Eagles vs. #10 USC Trojans
Again with the Eagles. In this matchup, though, they're going up against people who have clearly fought in a war and undoubtedly have arrows (at least enough so that one could, of all places, wind up in Achilles' heel). I'd really, really like to go with Boston College here, because I don't want to be tempted to use that Orlando Bloom picture again down the line, but there's just no way. No matter how much preying that eagle is a bird of, it's not going to stand a chance against USC without at least bringing Odysseus into the mix, and I hear he's hard to get in touch with.
#2 Michigan State Spartans vs. #15 Robert Morris Colonials
I'd love to give this one to Robert Morris, if for no other reason than that I've got some twisted homer-ish desire to see Moon Township do something well. At first glance, I'd have to go with the Spartans, who've got that whole "prowess in battle" thing going on and have abs that could destroy Tokyo, according to Zach Snyder. Then again, the combination of the whole "culturally accepted pederasty" thing and the fact that Colonials likely have much longer range weapons (not that I'm sure what musket fire is going to do to a shield) makes it a close one. In the end, I'm going to have to give in to the advanced technology of the Colonials, along with the fact that I don't care how militant and brilliant you are, I'm not scared of NAMBLA chapters.
Next up: West Region, First Round
Alabama State Hornets vs. Morehead State Eagles
If there's one thing last year's mascot bracket taught me, it's that a disproportionate number of schools are attempting to instill fear in their athletic opponents by using either an Eagle or a Wildcat. I'm a little disappointed that we're starting out with the birds already, but that's certainly no reason to take this matchup any less seriously. I really dislike hornets. They sting, they're intimidating, and they tended to nest on the bleachers at my high school, which made summers slightly less fun. That said, we've got an unpleasant wasp going up against a bird whose entire raison d'être is killing things and eating them. Sorry, Alabama State. Morehead State takes the play-in.
Bruce Lee is displeased, having just been informed that an Eagle is going to peck his eyes out through that mask.
#1 Louisville Cardinals vs. #16 Morehead State Eagles
We've got one game decided (that typically doesn't even count for an office bracket) and I'm already on edge about the number of birds in this tournament. That said, I've seen cardinals. They're brightly colored, sing and eat seeds and have that nifty little plume thing on the top of their heads, and if it weren't for them, I wouldn't have just learned, via wikipedia, what a "passerine" is. That said, I'm not sure something which hangs out in woodlands and is known for being both easy to spot and not eating things that aren't seed-ish is going to be able to take on something that's got so much experience nabbing fish out of the water in flight, not to mention holding an olive branch and enough arrows to make Oliver Queen take notice while apparently hovering. Morehead State advances again in the biggest upset in NCAA history.
#8 Ohio State Buckeyes vs. #9 Siena Saints
This one's tough. "Saints", presumably, refers to people who have been canonized, as Siena College is a Franciscan institution. The mascot, though, instead of being "Saint Andrei the Iconographer" or "Saint Maximus the Confessor" is a St. Bernard. The dog. With the barrels and the saving people and the awkward Charles Grodin/Bonnie Hunt nonsense.
He's embarassed for you, Mr. Grodin
I'm tempted to go with the Buckeyes here (as buckeyes are poisonous), but I'm going to presume that the dog/Iconographer is going to instinctively avoid eating them, and rather just urinate on something. Also, if it hadn't been for Siena just now, I wouldn't know that Wikipedia has a list of Flying Saints, which I imagine has got to be useful for a basketball tournament. Plus, one of them's Saint Christina the Astonishing, and any connection to Nick Cave and the Bad Seeds' "Henry's Dream" album is going to get bonus points. Siena advances.
#5 Utah Utes vs. #12 Arizona Wildcats
The obvious thing to do here is to make a "What is a Ute?" joke and run with My Cousin Vinny humor. I'd like to avoid that, but there's two things that are stopping me. First, Ralph Macchio looks exactly the same as he did in 1992.
Forty-seven, my ass
It's only logical to assume he's still got the knowledge he'd picked up as the Karate Kid and would be able to take down a wildcat, which were established last year as not being particularly intimidating. Secondly, the "ute" line was delivered by Fred Gwynne, and Fred Gwynne is too awesome not to advance. Utes advance.
#4 Wake Forest Demon Deacons vs. #13 Cleveland State Vikings
Demon Deacons is a pretty awesome name. One thinks of the climax of The Exorcist, or if you're a little bit less of a purist about what constitutes a demon, the scene in 28 Days Later where Cillian Murphy enters the church after waking up from his coma, both of which are going to be pretty intimidating no matter who you are. On the other hand, Vikings have swords, long boats with shields and oars and their own haplogroup. I think I might have to go with the beardy fellows with the axes over the unstable clergy. Cleveland State with the upset.
#6 West Virginia Mountaineers vs. #11 Dayton Flyers
Having grown up in western Pennsylvania, I've got a pretty good understanding of West Virginia and their Mountaineers. Sure, the Alleghenies aren't as high or as steep as the Rockies, but I feel like if I wanted to learn Mountaineering under some sort of master Mountaineer, they'd do just fine.
I am positive this man knows things I do not. I am more than happy to keep it that way.
The Flyers, on the other hand, have flight, but that seems to be about it. They evoke little red wagons in my mind, which a Mountaineer would surely stomp on before using it to beat some elk to death and then wear them. Or something. They certainly don't provoke the same "dangerously insane/lives where no one could hear you scream" vibe that I get from the Mountaineers. West virginia moves on.
#3 Kansas Jayhawks vs. #14 North Dakota State Bison
"Jayhawk" is apparently a Civil war term adopted by Kansas abolitionists, combining a blue jay (which is noisy) and a sparrow hawk (which is apparently not, but I'm in no position to confirm). So, that's certainly a bonus. Bison, on the other hand, I've seen footage of and seem to be pretty huge, even if we do tend to kill them off in large numbers. If I go with "Jayhawk" as refering to the abolitionist group, they've probably got guns and could take down a bison. If I go with the "mythical but tiny bird", it's going to get stomped to death by 2000 pounds of bison. As much as I'd like to go with North Dakota here, I'm going to presume they mean the abolitionist (for the time being) and go with Kansas. What I don't envy is the sad truth that after the Jayhawk shoots the bison down, they're only going to be able to take 100 pounds of meat back to their wagon. And that's not enough to stop anyone from getting cholera or breaking a wagon axle.
#7 Boston college Eagles vs. #10 USC Trojans
Again with the Eagles. In this matchup, though, they're going up against people who have clearly fought in a war and undoubtedly have arrows (at least enough so that one could, of all places, wind up in Achilles' heel). I'd really, really like to go with Boston College here, because I don't want to be tempted to use that Orlando Bloom picture again down the line, but there's just no way. No matter how much preying that eagle is a bird of, it's not going to stand a chance against USC without at least bringing Odysseus into the mix, and I hear he's hard to get in touch with.
#2 Michigan State Spartans vs. #15 Robert Morris Colonials
I'd love to give this one to Robert Morris, if for no other reason than that I've got some twisted homer-ish desire to see Moon Township do something well. At first glance, I'd have to go with the Spartans, who've got that whole "prowess in battle" thing going on and have abs that could destroy Tokyo, according to Zach Snyder. Then again, the combination of the whole "culturally accepted pederasty" thing and the fact that Colonials likely have much longer range weapons (not that I'm sure what musket fire is going to do to a shield) makes it a close one. In the end, I'm going to have to give in to the advanced technology of the Colonials, along with the fact that I don't care how militant and brilliant you are, I'm not scared of NAMBLA chapters.
Next up: West Region, First Round
Return of the Murphspot Mascot Bracket
It's March again. Over a year since I did the "post once a day" project, and I've fallen into a pattern of never, ever posting. But, as I'm always looking for opportunities to do so and had fun doing it last year, it's time once again for the Murphspot Completely Improbable Mascot Bracket that has No Relation to Sports at all. Rationale is the same as last year's. Whichever mascot would win in a fight to the death (in some improbable scenario in which they mascots can't just ignore each other) moves on in the bracket. I'll default to the mascot in the event that the team name is abstract, and I'll just assign losses randomly. Any disagreements are welcome in the comments, but it's all nonsense anyway.
The schedule, here, is going to be first and second round by Tuesday, Sweet Sixteen and Elite Eight by Wednesday, and the Final Four and CHampionship by Thursday. That way, if you completely disregard rationality and actually run with this idea, you'll be able to get your Murphspot Completely Improbable Mascot Bracket that has No Relation to Sports at All bracket entered in whatever office pool you're probably in.
First up: Round One, Midwest Region
The schedule, here, is going to be first and second round by Tuesday, Sweet Sixteen and Elite Eight by Wednesday, and the Final Four and CHampionship by Thursday. That way, if you completely disregard rationality and actually run with this idea, you'll be able to get your Murphspot Completely Improbable Mascot Bracket that has No Relation to Sports at All bracket entered in whatever office pool you're probably in.
First up: Round One, Midwest Region
Friday, March 06, 2009
Attempting Comic Books
I've never been someone who reads comics, really. I don't have anything against them, I just never really went through "let's buy superhero comics" phase when I was younger. I think it's partially a function of growing up where I did, where the only way I'd have been able to get anywhere was to bike, and the hills of Western Pennsylvania made that more difficult than I was willing to bother with in my adolescence. Actually, I'm not sure I'd bike as much as I do now if I lived somewhere that wasn't as completely flat as Chicago, but that's a subject for another post. As I got older, I read the standard books (Maus, Watchmen, V for Vendetta) and was kind of on the periphery, enjoying comic-book movies, but still never really got into them.
Anyway, I'm back again to experimenting with the idea of reading comics. Mostly, I think, it stems from this weird tendency I have to become moderately curious about a mythology, then read everything I can about the mythology, then sort of move on. I did that with Piers Anthony's Incarnations of Immortality books and The Dark Tower series (which I should probably re-read at some point), as well as with Lost and Doctor Who. With the last two, particularly, there was a definite progression from mild interest ("I wonder what all the fuss is about? Perhaps I'll netflix it" and "Oh, hey. I liked Simon Pegg in a few movies. Perhaps I'll watch this episode of Doctor Who he's in.") to reading everything I could about the mythologies of the series ("I should probably watch Pierre Chang's warning to the future." "What is the significance of the Valeyard, and will he reappear after the Doctor's twelfth regeneration?") It's been a while since I've really done that with a mythology, so I think it's probably time to do it again.
Enter Green Lantern.
Again, this probably is rooted in the fact that I never really read comics as a kid, but I've never known much about Green Lantern. Batman and Superman are both such huge cultural icons that you can't really help but know what the deal is there. For the rest of the (original lineup of the) Justice League, Green Lantern seemed the most intriguing. Wonder Woman's fine and all, but the magical bracelets and invisible plane seem strange. The Flash is there, but he's just a fast guy. It's very straight-forward, but that's not really something I can get into. Aquaman exudes uselessness, to the point where I forgot he existed when watching a Justice League movie, until he showed up in the final three minutes to say hello. There's probably a wealth of interesting psychology behind Martian Manhunter, but then he seems to be a green Superman, and Superman never really appealed to me because he's got too much power.
So there we are, left with Green Lantern. I've purchased a collection of "landmark" Green Lantern comics chosen by the guy that wrote two recent storylines ("Rebirth" and "Sinestro Corps War") and is responsible for this summer's crossover storyline ("Blackest Night"), and so far I've been enjoying it, even if the stuff from the sixties is a bit campy. Generally, there have been some interesting views on power, jealousy and order (specifically in the I, Lantern and What Price Honor? short stories.) I'm interested to actually read about the rise, fall and redemption of Hal Jordan outside of Wikipedia summaries, so I've got Emerald Twilight and Green Lantern: Rebirth on the way from Amazon.
So we'll see. Maybe I'll actually succumb to the call of geekdom and start reading Green Lantern comics. At the very least, I'll read a few storylines before getting bored and watching Star Wars again.
Anyway, I'm back again to experimenting with the idea of reading comics. Mostly, I think, it stems from this weird tendency I have to become moderately curious about a mythology, then read everything I can about the mythology, then sort of move on. I did that with Piers Anthony's Incarnations of Immortality books and The Dark Tower series (which I should probably re-read at some point), as well as with Lost and Doctor Who. With the last two, particularly, there was a definite progression from mild interest ("I wonder what all the fuss is about? Perhaps I'll netflix it" and "Oh, hey. I liked Simon Pegg in a few movies. Perhaps I'll watch this episode of Doctor Who he's in.") to reading everything I could about the mythologies of the series ("I should probably watch Pierre Chang's warning to the future." "What is the significance of the Valeyard, and will he reappear after the Doctor's twelfth regeneration?") It's been a while since I've really done that with a mythology, so I think it's probably time to do it again.
Enter Green Lantern.
Again, this probably is rooted in the fact that I never really read comics as a kid, but I've never known much about Green Lantern. Batman and Superman are both such huge cultural icons that you can't really help but know what the deal is there. For the rest of the (original lineup of the) Justice League, Green Lantern seemed the most intriguing. Wonder Woman's fine and all, but the magical bracelets and invisible plane seem strange. The Flash is there, but he's just a fast guy. It's very straight-forward, but that's not really something I can get into. Aquaman exudes uselessness, to the point where I forgot he existed when watching a Justice League movie, until he showed up in the final three minutes to say hello. There's probably a wealth of interesting psychology behind Martian Manhunter, but then he seems to be a green Superman, and Superman never really appealed to me because he's got too much power.
So there we are, left with Green Lantern. I've purchased a collection of "landmark" Green Lantern comics chosen by the guy that wrote two recent storylines ("Rebirth" and "Sinestro Corps War") and is responsible for this summer's crossover storyline ("Blackest Night"), and so far I've been enjoying it, even if the stuff from the sixties is a bit campy. Generally, there have been some interesting views on power, jealousy and order (specifically in the I, Lantern and What Price Honor? short stories.) I'm interested to actually read about the rise, fall and redemption of Hal Jordan outside of Wikipedia summaries, so I've got Emerald Twilight and Green Lantern: Rebirth on the way from Amazon.
So we'll see. Maybe I'll actually succumb to the call of geekdom and start reading Green Lantern comics. At the very least, I'll read a few storylines before getting bored and watching Star Wars again.
Monday, December 22, 2008
There's Got To Be Some Other Name For It
it's apparently 0.5 degrees fahrenheit (-17.5ºC! 255.65 K! 460.17 Ra! -1.68°Rø!) in Chicago. which, I found out earlier tonight, is too cold to stand around waiting for the train, especially if you're like me and forget that the little salad-bar-heat-lamps on the platform don't actually do anything to provide any warmth. Relying on my apartment's steam heat isn't much better, but it's tolerable. Knowing that I'd have to venture out into the cold and because I was fed up with trying to download a copy of EndNote from the Northwestern IT site, I somehow found my way back to the Wookiepedia.
I should start with this. I'm amused by the incredibly specific wikis out there. HeroesWiki was useful as I remained fascinated by the show's nosedive toward awfulness (plus, it was the only place I've found the most hilarious screen-cap of any television show in the history of television and confirmed that I wasn't losing my mind and that Peter did indeed taunt Sylar with, no joke, "I'm the most special!") I've written about Lostpedia before, which is a pretty good resource even if the "theories" pages do tend to get a little wacky. There appear to be wikis for everything else in existence, but one of the first of these I found was the "Wookieepedia", an incredibly large, overly extensive Star Wars wiki. Perhaps spurred on by a recent Alt Text concerning incredibly minute details in Star Wars canon, and the fact that it's incredibly cold, I wound up on the entry on Hoth.
I understand that fandom tends to concern itself with getting every single detail about every single detail, but I was somewhat surprised to see that there's evidently some source out there which gives an Average Planetary Temperature for a planet that, in terms of the movies, is important for right around twenty minutes. I'm not sure how you just assert that it's -61ºC (I guess you want it to be really, really cold, but not so cold that the carbon dioxide is going to start depositing out of the air), but it's nice to know that the authors of the authors of a book for a roleplaying game decided on a number, and that that number as good as fact for the Wookieepedia. Deciding on the climatology of minor fictional worlds in movies isn't what I spend my time doing, but I'm not really in a position to knock it too much.
What confuses me is this. I'm not sure whose fault this is (the authors of the eight sources listed on the page of something which isn't in the movies or the editors of the wiki), but when you've set up a resource where you can find long detailed pages about anyone who anyone has ever written about ever as well as Jedi who appear to have been named while the author was bored and in the kitchen or watching their cat walk across the keyboard, it's a bit disappointing that it's just called a "knobby white spider". That's what I'd call it, but I don't even count as someone who liked the movies in comparison with the editors of the wiki.
It's just sad, is all.
I should start with this. I'm amused by the incredibly specific wikis out there. HeroesWiki was useful as I remained fascinated by the show's nosedive toward awfulness (plus, it was the only place I've found the most hilarious screen-cap of any television show in the history of television and confirmed that I wasn't losing my mind and that Peter did indeed taunt Sylar with, no joke, "I'm the most special!") I've written about Lostpedia before, which is a pretty good resource even if the "theories" pages do tend to get a little wacky. There appear to be wikis for everything else in existence, but one of the first of these I found was the "Wookieepedia", an incredibly large, overly extensive Star Wars wiki. Perhaps spurred on by a recent Alt Text concerning incredibly minute details in Star Wars canon, and the fact that it's incredibly cold, I wound up on the entry on Hoth.
I understand that fandom tends to concern itself with getting every single detail about every single detail, but I was somewhat surprised to see that there's evidently some source out there which gives an Average Planetary Temperature for a planet that, in terms of the movies, is important for right around twenty minutes. I'm not sure how you just assert that it's -61ºC (I guess you want it to be really, really cold, but not so cold that the carbon dioxide is going to start depositing out of the air), but it's nice to know that the authors of the authors of a book for a roleplaying game decided on a number, and that that number as good as fact for the Wookieepedia. Deciding on the climatology of minor fictional worlds in movies isn't what I spend my time doing, but I'm not really in a position to knock it too much.
What confuses me is this. I'm not sure whose fault this is (the authors of the eight sources listed on the page of something which isn't in the movies or the editors of the wiki), but when you've set up a resource where you can find long detailed pages about anyone who anyone has ever written about ever as well as Jedi who appear to have been named while the author was bored and in the kitchen or watching their cat walk across the keyboard, it's a bit disappointing that it's just called a "knobby white spider". That's what I'd call it, but I don't even count as someone who liked the movies in comparison with the editors of the wiki.
It's just sad, is all.
Friday, December 19, 2008
I Think About Elevators
Desperately trying to cheer myself up from the travails of grad school, I was doing what I normally do at about this time and repeatedly pulling up random xkcd comics. Which I realize is something that's probably overdone, but it goes well with my threadless t-shirts and my bad-tasting-but-attractively-priced-alcohol and my awful music and everything else which has rendered me a soulless brand-hungry homunculus.
That not withstanding, I eventually ran across this which reminded me of something I occasionally thought of and something I was talking about yesterday.
Imagine you're completely unfamiliar with the concept of an elevator. You've never seen one before, you've never ridden in one before. They are completely foreign to you. Now let's say you're following your friend around a building and he gets in. Let's also postulate that this is the smoothest elevator ever, so it's hard to tell when you're moving (adding that bit back in is a bit farther in the thought experiment). He presses a button, and you move down into the basement.
From your perspective, you entered a room, pressed a button and when the doors opened again, the entire world was different. You were in a different place. Sure, you'd probably figure out (especially if you could feel the motion) that you'd been in a box that was suspended in a shaft and that you simply moved down the shaft, but I'd be really tempted to think that it was a magical world-changing box.
That not withstanding, I eventually ran across this which reminded me of something I occasionally thought of and something I was talking about yesterday.
Imagine you're completely unfamiliar with the concept of an elevator. You've never seen one before, you've never ridden in one before. They are completely foreign to you. Now let's say you're following your friend around a building and he gets in. Let's also postulate that this is the smoothest elevator ever, so it's hard to tell when you're moving (adding that bit back in is a bit farther in the thought experiment). He presses a button, and you move down into the basement.
From your perspective, you entered a room, pressed a button and when the doors opened again, the entire world was different. You were in a different place. Sure, you'd probably figure out (especially if you could feel the motion) that you'd been in a box that was suspended in a shaft and that you simply moved down the shaft, but I'd be really tempted to think that it was a magical world-changing box.
Thursday, December 18, 2008
Milk
I've never seen a lot of movies in the theater. There's been a bit of an uptick in that recently, but I'm still kind of limited by the fact that I'm a graduate student, which means I don't have the money to see too many movies or the free time I'd need to see them. I finally got around to seeing Milk, though, and figured I'd jump on it while it's still fresh in my mind to actually start writing on here again. And no, before someone on the internets asks, I didn't see it in a Cinemark theater. I saw it at the Landmark on Diversey and Clark; the same place I saw Redbelt (which, if you haven't seen it, is a pretty solid movie).
The assassination of Mayor Moscone and Supervisor Milk happened a good five years before I was born, so I hadn't really heard much about it. I'd heard vaguely of the "Twinkie Defense", but I never really looked into the person that term was coined for (Former Sup. Dan White) or the case behind it. It seems really strange, now, that I'd not heard of Harvey Milk before this, but it's possible that I'm just completely unaware of the things that go on around me. I could spend this post talking about Sean Penn's performance as Milk, or James "I'm in this as penance for being in Spider-Man 3" Franco as Scott Smith, but that's boring. That's been done everywhere else, and I'm not particularly good at it.
Instead, all I could think of while I was watching it was how incredibly appropriate it was for what's happened in the past few months. I'm to young to remember Anita Bryant running around the country, trying to eliminate laws that barred employers for firing employees because of their sexual orientation, but when Marina turned to me after her introduction and said "She's Sarah Palin", the parallel was hard to dismiss. The fight against California Proposition 6 in the film (which would have called for the firing of anyone employed by California schools who either was homosexual or wasn't outwardly hostile to them) mirrored the recent passage of Proposition 8, which amended the state constitution to ban same-sex marriages. I'm not sure whether the speeches were taken verbatim from the speeches Milk gave, but the focus on hope seemed oddly similar to Obama's message.
Beyond the politics, it's just a good story. The tension between Scott and Harvey, the difficulty of running a campaign (and the changes that were necessitated between the first and second runs) and trying to figure Jack out would make it something you should see even if you don't particularly care about what its opponents would demonize as the "homosexual agenda". But the politics are essential. It's oddly inspiring that way. Milk is set up in the first few minutes as a forty-year-old closeted insurance salesman who's never done anything with his life other than just getting by, and is able to take a position and effect actual reform with it. Lately, I've been having a lot of doubts about what I've done so far, but hell, if someone can get elected City Supervisor and push through a successful campaign to defeat an unjust bill between the ages of forty and forty-eight, then twenty-five is starting to seem pretty young again.
I don't know if I've ever experienced this before, but people were audibly crying by the end. That may say something more about the kind of movies I tend to see than anything else (people weren't crying at Ghost Town or Die Hard 4, and there were only two other people in the theater the last time I made it to the Music Box to see Boy A, which you should do if you haven't, by the way), but nonetheless, I thought it was an appropriate reaction. Afterwards, the mood seemed a bit somber; it seemed like we'd just watched the rise of this politician and radical reform he was able to enact in the mid-seventies, but since then nothing's changed. I don't think I agree with that. The anti-protection-from-discrimination laws have been tossed out and while we have states changing their governing document to make sure only certain relationships are given the full benefits of state acknowledgement, same-sex marriage is legal in two states, something that is so far beyond what Milk and his allies were fighting for that it's hard to believe it's only been thirty years since the events of the movie. The most perplexing part of the whole mess was (in the film) and is (in reading arguments against gay rights) that I just don't understand why people care so much. The bogeyman of "they'll come after the children" is invoked, but that's not got much statistical evidence to back it up and, on the whole, is an appeal to base fear. I don't, and likely won't, understand how people can simultaneously claim to be in support of limited government and advocate an expansion of governmental power into the personal lives of citizens in such a way. It all seems to be a screen for something else. It has to be, because I don't understand what the deal is otherwise. It's hinted at in a recreation of a debate between Milk and John Briggs, a legislator in support of Prop. 6, that it's all really about a power grab and the institution of a society much different than the one the Constitution mandates (which, I guess, makes it appropriate that people are demanding we change the core document to get their petty prejudices codified).
The only thing I'd have liked to see more of is the story of Dan White, who seems like a decent guy throughout, if a bit overwhelmed by what he's been thrust into. The movie, I think, actually makes the case that his murder of Harvey Milk was not motivated by Milk's sexual orientation, but that he was merely someone who irritated him and was on his mind when he snapped. His plans to kill two others, though not shown in the movie, suggest that it was premeditated and that he had just completely lost it, and I'd have liked to see more of his descent from supervisor-who's-trying-to-do-what's-best-for-his-constituents to someone who would assassinate the mayor and a co-worker. It seemed kind of sudden. But that's a minor detail. It's not a movie about him. It's a movie about Milk, and you really probably had better see it.
The assassination of Mayor Moscone and Supervisor Milk happened a good five years before I was born, so I hadn't really heard much about it. I'd heard vaguely of the "Twinkie Defense", but I never really looked into the person that term was coined for (Former Sup. Dan White) or the case behind it. It seems really strange, now, that I'd not heard of Harvey Milk before this, but it's possible that I'm just completely unaware of the things that go on around me. I could spend this post talking about Sean Penn's performance as Milk, or James "I'm in this as penance for being in Spider-Man 3" Franco as Scott Smith, but that's boring. That's been done everywhere else, and I'm not particularly good at it.
Instead, all I could think of while I was watching it was how incredibly appropriate it was for what's happened in the past few months. I'm to young to remember Anita Bryant running around the country, trying to eliminate laws that barred employers for firing employees because of their sexual orientation, but when Marina turned to me after her introduction and said "She's Sarah Palin", the parallel was hard to dismiss. The fight against California Proposition 6 in the film (which would have called for the firing of anyone employed by California schools who either was homosexual or wasn't outwardly hostile to them) mirrored the recent passage of Proposition 8, which amended the state constitution to ban same-sex marriages. I'm not sure whether the speeches were taken verbatim from the speeches Milk gave, but the focus on hope seemed oddly similar to Obama's message.
Beyond the politics, it's just a good story. The tension between Scott and Harvey, the difficulty of running a campaign (and the changes that were necessitated between the first and second runs) and trying to figure Jack out would make it something you should see even if you don't particularly care about what its opponents would demonize as the "homosexual agenda". But the politics are essential. It's oddly inspiring that way. Milk is set up in the first few minutes as a forty-year-old closeted insurance salesman who's never done anything with his life other than just getting by, and is able to take a position and effect actual reform with it. Lately, I've been having a lot of doubts about what I've done so far, but hell, if someone can get elected City Supervisor and push through a successful campaign to defeat an unjust bill between the ages of forty and forty-eight, then twenty-five is starting to seem pretty young again.
I don't know if I've ever experienced this before, but people were audibly crying by the end. That may say something more about the kind of movies I tend to see than anything else (people weren't crying at Ghost Town or Die Hard 4, and there were only two other people in the theater the last time I made it to the Music Box to see Boy A, which you should do if you haven't, by the way), but nonetheless, I thought it was an appropriate reaction. Afterwards, the mood seemed a bit somber; it seemed like we'd just watched the rise of this politician and radical reform he was able to enact in the mid-seventies, but since then nothing's changed. I don't think I agree with that. The anti-protection-from-discrimination laws have been tossed out and while we have states changing their governing document to make sure only certain relationships are given the full benefits of state acknowledgement, same-sex marriage is legal in two states, something that is so far beyond what Milk and his allies were fighting for that it's hard to believe it's only been thirty years since the events of the movie. The most perplexing part of the whole mess was (in the film) and is (in reading arguments against gay rights) that I just don't understand why people care so much. The bogeyman of "they'll come after the children" is invoked, but that's not got much statistical evidence to back it up and, on the whole, is an appeal to base fear. I don't, and likely won't, understand how people can simultaneously claim to be in support of limited government and advocate an expansion of governmental power into the personal lives of citizens in such a way. It all seems to be a screen for something else. It has to be, because I don't understand what the deal is otherwise. It's hinted at in a recreation of a debate between Milk and John Briggs, a legislator in support of Prop. 6, that it's all really about a power grab and the institution of a society much different than the one the Constitution mandates (which, I guess, makes it appropriate that people are demanding we change the core document to get their petty prejudices codified).
The only thing I'd have liked to see more of is the story of Dan White, who seems like a decent guy throughout, if a bit overwhelmed by what he's been thrust into. The movie, I think, actually makes the case that his murder of Harvey Milk was not motivated by Milk's sexual orientation, but that he was merely someone who irritated him and was on his mind when he snapped. His plans to kill two others, though not shown in the movie, suggest that it was premeditated and that he had just completely lost it, and I'd have liked to see more of his descent from supervisor-who's-trying-to-do-what's-best-for-his-constituents to someone who would assassinate the mayor and a co-worker. It seemed kind of sudden. But that's a minor detail. It's not a movie about him. It's a movie about Milk, and you really probably had better see it.
Monday, September 22, 2008
The Results of My Godawful Attempt at Making a Functional Website
I actually finished this late last week, but I've been working out the kinks and neglecting to blog about it (which could apply either to this project or things in general lately.) The O'Halloran Group Page is back online and completely redesigned. For those of you who don't know, that's my lab (as is evidenced by me being in that picture on the entry page and on the group members page). It's arguably not much (I based it off of a template, but had to learn how to play with the CSS well enough to make it work reasonably well), but it's the most thorough job I've done of building a website since sophomore year of college (when I made a special interest house site for the Jazz House), and it's far and away the best and I hope a bit better than the old site. Most of the content's the same, but the site hadn't undergone an overhaul since 1998 (meaning most of the links were out of date, none of the individual pages were consistent with one another and no one who joined the lab in the past five years was actually acknowledged on the site, and a few of the old grad students had to have their "current status" updated from "doing a post-doc at University X" to "Tenured Professor at University Y") and used frames like they were going out of style (which they did.) I've worked out most of the bugs I've found, so let me know what you think. And by let me know what you think, I mean give me positive comments.
Friday, September 05, 2008
Serial Killer Fiction
I've been taking in quite a bit of serial-killer related fiction lately. I'm not sure why. Well, no, I do know why. Because I've enjoyed American Psycho for a few years and finally decided to go back and read Bret Easton Ellis' novel and because, while the Instant Viewing service from Netflix isn't terrific with its variety, it has managed to turn me on to a few shows I wouldn't have watched otherwise, Dexter being the most relevant for this post.
For some reason, I'd been avoiding it, but after watching it, the idea of a serial killer who follows a strict code caught me as "really damned interesting". For a while, the wikipedia page for the Dexter Morgan character included what his alignment would have been if he were a Dungeons and Dragons character, which I found kind of interesting because even though I've never played D&D, I like the idea that two words can plot you in a little matrix that describes your motivations and how you treat others. But then there was some disagreement over whether he was Lawful Neutral or Lawful Evil, and eventually someone realized that we probably don't need to apply fantasy gaming systems to every character in all fiction, and it's since been removed. Either way, I became a big fan of the show, have since watched both seasons that have been released so far and eagerly await the start of the third season (which is surprising, as I don't have cable, but damn it, I'll figure out some way to watch it.)
For the same reasons as I picked up Ellis' American Psycho, mostly wanting to see how the series compared to the source material, I went out and bought the first two of the novels that inspired Dexter. I should note a few things first, though. I don't like doing literary reviews, mostly because I don't think I'm a very good writer, I don't think I read enough and, after all, who the hell am I? Second is that I realize that they're trying to draw in people exactly like me, who have seen the story in one medium and want to find out what the original is like, but I'm really not a big fan of plastering stills from the show on the cover of the book. Just no. But getting back to it, I went out and bought Darkly Dreaming Dexter and Dearly Devoted Dexter.
I'd recommend against that. For one, I could never quite escape the reality that I was reading a crime novel. Not that that's a bad thing, but there are times when the over-the-top mystery-crime-ness of it became off-putting. Lots of cliches, and a few too many points where I noticed that the writer was trying to be witty. Which is fine, but I prefer a little more subtlety in my serial-killer-as-antihero crime novels. The cops all talk like crime-novel cops and the second book seems to have lost a bit of the charm present in the first. But that's fine. Some people are down with that, and I'm not even necessarily knocking it as writing technique.
The bit that actually bothered me was something that I had to reflect on a bit. It seems to me that the books go in a far less interesting direction than the series, but I have no way of knowing whether that's just an artifact of the fact that I saw the series before I read the books. Certain characters living or dying or not being exactly as I remember them from their portrayal on the Showtime series is absolutely fine. The books are, after all, the source material, and though I think some of the characters are a bit more deeply explored on the show than in the books, that's fine. Some decisions, though, it just seems a bit hard for me to understand.
Massive spoilers ahead. Only continue reading if you've seen the series, read the books, or don't care.
Although if you don't care, you should be doing something else.
The first series and first book end with the revelation that Dexter's brother is alive and is also a serial killer who happens to have been dating Dexter's adoptive sister, and a final confrontation occurs between Dexter and the brother. In the series, the sister is unconscious for this confrontation, and it ends with Dexter chasing off his brother and later killing him, as he believes he will never stop attacking his sister, who he claims he's fond of at the same time he claims that he can feel no emotion. In the novel, the sister is awake, Dexter very nearly kills her himself, and then helps his brother escape, despite the fact that he's just killed a police officer.
The first scenario is more interesting, to me. The internal conflict the character suffers from knowing that he has a living relative who shares his same mental illness, but knowing that preserving his current lifestyle means forever cutting that contact off (literally, in this case) drives the ending. Having Dexter nearly kill Deborah removes another dramatic aspect of the television ending, that though it's true that Dexter and his brother are both serial-killers, Dexter is somehow elevated above that by his adherence to a strict code, while the brother kills without reason, merely to satisfy a blood-lust. Dexter's adherence to this code and refusal to kill innocents is what allows the reader/viewer to identify with him. It's not entirely that he's charming, it's that his claims of being a hollow monster come off as not quite true. One feels, in the series and the book up until that point, that he's lying to himself, claiming more emotional deadness than he's actually saddled with. Furthermore, Deborah's consciousness plays a very important role. In the series, she is unconscious, never learns her adopted brother is a serial-killer and hence doesn't have to change the way she acts towards him. It sets up a huge arc for the second season; the question of what would happen to the friends and family who depend upon Dexter if his murders were ever linked to him. In the novel, she realizes he's a serial killer, but doubles up on the "gruff cop" act and inexplicably refuses to turn her brother in, despite knowing that he's responsible for 40+ murders. Their chemistry is essentially destroyed, and it's implied that it's only because he's her brother (by adoption) that he's not been turned in, which is made further unlikely when she freaks out and threatens to turn a visiting federal agent in for buying methamphetamine in an effort to confirm the presence of a meth lab. She claims that she "took an oath to stop this kind of shit" and threatens to arrest him. Yet we're to believe she just sort of grudgingly accepts that Dexter's a mass murderer, no matter what his reasons for killing are? It's unreasonable and, for me, destroys a bit of the illusion. It just seems like a case in which the less interesting choice was made.
But, then, what do I know, and I'm probably being influenced by the fact that the first thing one sees is what one tends to feel a connection to.
Only one final complaint. Things that sound strange stick out to me. I don't like reading typos in a book I've paid money for (and there aren't any, so far, in either of these) but confused metaphors also kind of stick out to me. Shortly before writing this post, I read a passage in which an ER doctor answers a question about whether a patients blood contained any drugs with "Traces, hell. This guy's blood is a cocktail sauce."
Leaving aside the bit where, I guess, he could be referring to the fact that cocktail sauce is made of a variety of ingredients, it seems like a bit of a stretch to connect the phrase "drug cocktail", referring to a solution of a variety of drugs similar to the way a cocktail contains a variety of liquors, with the patient's blood. It just. No. It makes me think of shrimp, not so much with how many drugs are in the guy's system. Nitpicky, sure. But I'm writing a whiny, irrelevant review, and I'll put whatever I want in here.
For some reason, I'd been avoiding it, but after watching it, the idea of a serial killer who follows a strict code caught me as "really damned interesting". For a while, the wikipedia page for the Dexter Morgan character included what his alignment would have been if he were a Dungeons and Dragons character, which I found kind of interesting because even though I've never played D&D, I like the idea that two words can plot you in a little matrix that describes your motivations and how you treat others. But then there was some disagreement over whether he was Lawful Neutral or Lawful Evil, and eventually someone realized that we probably don't need to apply fantasy gaming systems to every character in all fiction, and it's since been removed. Either way, I became a big fan of the show, have since watched both seasons that have been released so far and eagerly await the start of the third season (which is surprising, as I don't have cable, but damn it, I'll figure out some way to watch it.)
For the same reasons as I picked up Ellis' American Psycho, mostly wanting to see how the series compared to the source material, I went out and bought the first two of the novels that inspired Dexter. I should note a few things first, though. I don't like doing literary reviews, mostly because I don't think I'm a very good writer, I don't think I read enough and, after all, who the hell am I? Second is that I realize that they're trying to draw in people exactly like me, who have seen the story in one medium and want to find out what the original is like, but I'm really not a big fan of plastering stills from the show on the cover of the book. Just no. But getting back to it, I went out and bought Darkly Dreaming Dexter and Dearly Devoted Dexter.
I'd recommend against that. For one, I could never quite escape the reality that I was reading a crime novel. Not that that's a bad thing, but there are times when the over-the-top mystery-crime-ness of it became off-putting. Lots of cliches, and a few too many points where I noticed that the writer was trying to be witty. Which is fine, but I prefer a little more subtlety in my serial-killer-as-antihero crime novels. The cops all talk like crime-novel cops and the second book seems to have lost a bit of the charm present in the first. But that's fine. Some people are down with that, and I'm not even necessarily knocking it as writing technique.
The bit that actually bothered me was something that I had to reflect on a bit. It seems to me that the books go in a far less interesting direction than the series, but I have no way of knowing whether that's just an artifact of the fact that I saw the series before I read the books. Certain characters living or dying or not being exactly as I remember them from their portrayal on the Showtime series is absolutely fine. The books are, after all, the source material, and though I think some of the characters are a bit more deeply explored on the show than in the books, that's fine. Some decisions, though, it just seems a bit hard for me to understand.
Massive spoilers ahead. Only continue reading if you've seen the series, read the books, or don't care.
Although if you don't care, you should be doing something else.
The first series and first book end with the revelation that Dexter's brother is alive and is also a serial killer who happens to have been dating Dexter's adoptive sister, and a final confrontation occurs between Dexter and the brother. In the series, the sister is unconscious for this confrontation, and it ends with Dexter chasing off his brother and later killing him, as he believes he will never stop attacking his sister, who he claims he's fond of at the same time he claims that he can feel no emotion. In the novel, the sister is awake, Dexter very nearly kills her himself, and then helps his brother escape, despite the fact that he's just killed a police officer.
The first scenario is more interesting, to me. The internal conflict the character suffers from knowing that he has a living relative who shares his same mental illness, but knowing that preserving his current lifestyle means forever cutting that contact off (literally, in this case) drives the ending. Having Dexter nearly kill Deborah removes another dramatic aspect of the television ending, that though it's true that Dexter and his brother are both serial-killers, Dexter is somehow elevated above that by his adherence to a strict code, while the brother kills without reason, merely to satisfy a blood-lust. Dexter's adherence to this code and refusal to kill innocents is what allows the reader/viewer to identify with him. It's not entirely that he's charming, it's that his claims of being a hollow monster come off as not quite true. One feels, in the series and the book up until that point, that he's lying to himself, claiming more emotional deadness than he's actually saddled with. Furthermore, Deborah's consciousness plays a very important role. In the series, she is unconscious, never learns her adopted brother is a serial-killer and hence doesn't have to change the way she acts towards him. It sets up a huge arc for the second season; the question of what would happen to the friends and family who depend upon Dexter if his murders were ever linked to him. In the novel, she realizes he's a serial killer, but doubles up on the "gruff cop" act and inexplicably refuses to turn her brother in, despite knowing that he's responsible for 40+ murders. Their chemistry is essentially destroyed, and it's implied that it's only because he's her brother (by adoption) that he's not been turned in, which is made further unlikely when she freaks out and threatens to turn a visiting federal agent in for buying methamphetamine in an effort to confirm the presence of a meth lab. She claims that she "took an oath to stop this kind of shit" and threatens to arrest him. Yet we're to believe she just sort of grudgingly accepts that Dexter's a mass murderer, no matter what his reasons for killing are? It's unreasonable and, for me, destroys a bit of the illusion. It just seems like a case in which the less interesting choice was made.
But, then, what do I know, and I'm probably being influenced by the fact that the first thing one sees is what one tends to feel a connection to.
Only one final complaint. Things that sound strange stick out to me. I don't like reading typos in a book I've paid money for (and there aren't any, so far, in either of these) but confused metaphors also kind of stick out to me. Shortly before writing this post, I read a passage in which an ER doctor answers a question about whether a patients blood contained any drugs with "Traces, hell. This guy's blood is a cocktail sauce."
Leaving aside the bit where, I guess, he could be referring to the fact that cocktail sauce is made of a variety of ingredients, it seems like a bit of a stretch to connect the phrase "drug cocktail", referring to a solution of a variety of drugs similar to the way a cocktail contains a variety of liquors, with the patient's blood. It just. No. It makes me think of shrimp, not so much with how many drugs are in the guy's system. Nitpicky, sure. But I'm writing a whiny, irrelevant review, and I'll put whatever I want in here.
Thursday, August 28, 2008
Making Things Not Suck
So, my forays into actually making a website that looks decent have been suspect at best. I remember, I suppose during my senior year of high school (as I clearly remember doing this on a desktop in the house I grew up in) setting up a variety of incredibly amateurish websites done in the most basic HTML possible. I did it again in trying to make a Jazz House website when I lived there during my time at Allegheny (I'm not sure it exists anymore, as the people who lived there after I left were too lazy to fill out the paperwork and lost the house), but again, that's probably gone. I think the only reason that I have been keeping up with Murphspot (to the extent that I've been doing that) over the past few years is that it really doesn't demand that much in the way of design, and while I'd like to do more to control how this looks, the templates are good enough and my readership is small enough that I don't really care.
So, because I've never really done anything beyond the incredibly elementary, the whole "volunteering to update the lab website" has turned out to be an interesting experience. The current site was, it looks like, written in 1997 and everything has been piled on since then, resulting in a huge mess that made no sense. So, I've decided to make a new website, still depending on a template (because I'm not good enough at CSS to come up with a design that doesn't blow, but I'm getting better at understanding what does what) and getting everything else to work in a way that doesn't break the universe. Once I'm done with it and relatively ok with how everything looks, I'll post a link here.
And then everything will be fantastic.
So, because I've never really done anything beyond the incredibly elementary, the whole "volunteering to update the lab website" has turned out to be an interesting experience. The current site was, it looks like, written in 1997 and everything has been piled on since then, resulting in a huge mess that made no sense. So, I've decided to make a new website, still depending on a template (because I'm not good enough at CSS to come up with a design that doesn't blow, but I'm getting better at understanding what does what) and getting everything else to work in a way that doesn't break the universe. Once I'm done with it and relatively ok with how everything looks, I'll post a link here.
And then everything will be fantastic.
Thursday, July 03, 2008
Children's Cinema
I saw Wall-E last night, and I could write something about the allegations of "fattism" because of its depiction of a dystopia in which humans have become too reliant on entertainment, machines and convenience foods or the rampant Leftist Propaganda allegations that go along with a children's movie which would dare suggest that maybe you should exercise and not throw garbage everywhere (though, notably, it doesn't touch the concept of global warming; humans didn't leave earth because the climate changed, but rather because there was simply too much trash to move, which is I think to its credit). Yes, there's probably some anti-consumerist propaganda latent in the whole Buy 'n' Large corporation which runs the world (though that New York Times opinion piece does well to point out that Wall-E depicts a future where big business has merged with Big Government, which, at least traditionally (though I'd suggest that the current administration has been characterized by huge increases in government power), conservatives are supposed to be against. I've always held that the first purpose of going to see a movie is to be entertained, not to nitpick any part of the plot where you disagree with the writers and get all whiny about it, and I can't think of another way the plot they wanted to tell could have been set up. So yes.
No, I'm not going to write about any of that. Instead, I was stunned into silence by what happens when you go to a children's movie. The audience was fine, though I was worried about that in the beginning. They laughed at the appropriate times, there weren't kids screaming about "yay robots" and it was generally a pretty well behaved group. What got me were the previews. Now, given the types of movies I typically go to see, the last few previews I've seen were for comic book movies (during Iron Man, including one preview for a showing of the live-action Death Note movie), independent films (during Redbelt, which if you haven't seen, you should) and generally something exploding (during Indiana Jones and the Kingdom of the Crystal Skull). I'd mostly forgotten that children's movies exist, because I'm sort of totally divorced from any media outlet where they're going to be advertising. But, having bought a ticket for Wall-E, I was suddenly right back in the center of "marketing-to-kids".
First, I don't think there was a single movie that was previewed which had human protagonists. Madagascar: Escape 2 Africa, The Tale of Despereaux, Bolt and a movie which I won't mention just yet were all previewed, and it appeared that only in Bolt were there significant roles for human characters. Have I missed something? Were my childhood movies completely devoid of people? I mean, sure, talking animals, but no people? Where is the lovable misfit baseball team? Where are the adventuring pre-adolescents lurking around in phenominally dangerous scenarios? Where are the giant death robots?
I'm old.
The film I didn't mention above (because it deserved special note) was Beverly Hills Chihuahua, which, frankly, made me hate children merely with the insinuation that they would be entertained by it. The trailer is here, though I've got to warn you that you probably shouldn't watch that if you like having the will to live. There's just no part of that that doesn't offend me on some level by merely existing. I don't even get the reason it exists? I guess there was the whole "small dogs which go in purses and are used as accessories" thing, but the last time I recall a Chihuahua in popular culture was eight years ago for those awful Taco Bell commercials. I don't know who pitched this, or who thought it would be a good idea to make this, but the idea that kids are going to grow up in a world that contains Beverly Hills Chihuahua horrifies and infuriates me. There are a few reaction videos of people watching that trailer on YouTube, a lot of which seem staged and as though the person in the video is playing up being shocked at how bad an idea this is, but there are a few that seem to be genuine, characterized by speechlessness.
So yes. Beverly Hills Chihuahua has succeeded in making me lose hope for the future. Thanks, Disney.
Addendum: Why on earth was there a Billy Ray Cyrus music video during the previews?
Second Addendum: Wall-E was actually rather good. I'm not sure you would have gotten that from my post, but there was indeed enough time between the Beverly Hills Chihuahua trailer and the movie that I could stop seizing and enjoy the film I'd paid to see.
No, I'm not going to write about any of that. Instead, I was stunned into silence by what happens when you go to a children's movie. The audience was fine, though I was worried about that in the beginning. They laughed at the appropriate times, there weren't kids screaming about "yay robots" and it was generally a pretty well behaved group. What got me were the previews. Now, given the types of movies I typically go to see, the last few previews I've seen were for comic book movies (during Iron Man, including one preview for a showing of the live-action Death Note movie), independent films (during Redbelt, which if you haven't seen, you should) and generally something exploding (during Indiana Jones and the Kingdom of the Crystal Skull). I'd mostly forgotten that children's movies exist, because I'm sort of totally divorced from any media outlet where they're going to be advertising. But, having bought a ticket for Wall-E, I was suddenly right back in the center of "marketing-to-kids".
First, I don't think there was a single movie that was previewed which had human protagonists. Madagascar: Escape 2 Africa, The Tale of Despereaux, Bolt and a movie which I won't mention just yet were all previewed, and it appeared that only in Bolt were there significant roles for human characters. Have I missed something? Were my childhood movies completely devoid of people? I mean, sure, talking animals, but no people? Where is the lovable misfit baseball team? Where are the adventuring pre-adolescents lurking around in phenominally dangerous scenarios? Where are the giant death robots?
I'm old.
The film I didn't mention above (because it deserved special note) was Beverly Hills Chihuahua, which, frankly, made me hate children merely with the insinuation that they would be entertained by it. The trailer is here, though I've got to warn you that you probably shouldn't watch that if you like having the will to live. There's just no part of that that doesn't offend me on some level by merely existing. I don't even get the reason it exists? I guess there was the whole "small dogs which go in purses and are used as accessories" thing, but the last time I recall a Chihuahua in popular culture was eight years ago for those awful Taco Bell commercials. I don't know who pitched this, or who thought it would be a good idea to make this, but the idea that kids are going to grow up in a world that contains Beverly Hills Chihuahua horrifies and infuriates me. There are a few reaction videos of people watching that trailer on YouTube, a lot of which seem staged and as though the person in the video is playing up being shocked at how bad an idea this is, but there are a few that seem to be genuine, characterized by speechlessness.
So yes. Beverly Hills Chihuahua has succeeded in making me lose hope for the future. Thanks, Disney.
Addendum: Why on earth was there a Billy Ray Cyrus music video during the previews?
Second Addendum: Wall-E was actually rather good. I'm not sure you would have gotten that from my post, but there was indeed enough time between the Beverly Hills Chihuahua trailer and the movie that I could stop seizing and enjoy the film I'd paid to see.
Wednesday, July 02, 2008
The Columbus Voyage
I've traveled by bus before. Not for very long distances, but when there's something like Megabus which offers (as long as you purchase it far enough in advance and are going somewhere that no one actually wants to go) $1 tickets, it's hard to justify flying over the bus.
Until you've been on it for nine hours.
Before last weekend, I'd only ever used Megabus to get to Milwaukee, which is a 90 minute drive that I'd make if I had a car and is nowhere near far enough to justify actually flying there, even if this was back in the dark ages when fuel was actually affordable. It was an hour and a half on a bus, but I think I got some reading done (I think that was when I was reading The Fountainhead) and it was tolerable enough. I have it on good authority that even the four hour bus-ride from Chicago to Toledo is relatively painless, as “by the time it gets unbearable, you're there.” After nine hours on a bus between Chicago and Columbus, I think I've found that point at which it becomes not worth it at all.
To start with, some of you who have made this trip (and know it should be six hours) might be wondering why it took us nine. Evidently, you're supposed to go through Indianapolis if you want to get to Columbus, but throwing in Cincinnati, which is about an hour out of the way, throws the whole thing off.
If that was all it was, that the bus went a bit further south out of its way than it had to if it were strictly a Chicago-Columbus route, I'd have no problem. It told me that on the ticket, after all, and if I'm bad enough at geography to have not known how far out of the way Indianapolis and Cincinnati are, well, that's my fault, not the fault of the Megabus. Nor can I blame them for not being able to fall asleep. I can hardly fall asleep anyway, and being on a bus didn't help that any, particularly when the ride down was filled by listening to podcast after podcast. I would like to question their judgement in picking sites for dropoffs.
Both Chicago and Columbus are fine in this regard. Buses in Chicago stop at Union Station, which is useful because it's somewhat of a hub as far as both Metra and Amtrak trains, and is pretty close to the loop, where you can pick up any inner-city train you'd want. In Columbus, there's a stop at Ohio State (which is useful, because that's just as likely as not to be the reason you're going to Columbus) and at some sort of bus depot, which is at least still in the city. Getting off in Cincinnati at 5am in what appears to be the middle of the damn city (stopping on a street corner) is a bit of a stretch, but at least it seemed to be a pretty nice part of the city, and so that's fine. Indianapolis looks a bit better during the daylight, but stopping there at 3am is a different story. The lights come on, everyone wakes up and about a third of the passengers de-bus, while the rest of us sit and look. It appeared to be kind of an open plaza, which I'm fine with. Open plazas are fun. The seven 24-hour bail bondsman locations on the street perpendicular to ours were... something other than that. They were the only thing open, and though now it seems like not that bad a part of the city, when the only things that are open are “hey please get me out of jail” shops, well, I'm not sure what you're supposed to think.
Either way, it got me down to my friend's bachelor party without much trouble, and got me back to Chicago the next day (an hour late, due to the bus driver's frequent stops, leaving us all on the bus while he went to the restroom, and the ride up until Indianapolis was next to a woman who just flat out refused to do anything about her baby who was screaming its lungs off, but what are you going to do? Be a parent?) and while I wouldn't recommend it for nine hour trips, it was less expensive than a plane. So there's that.
I'm glad, even with gas prices, that I'm driving to Cleveland for the wedding this weekend. At least there'll be no screaming babies.
Until you've been on it for nine hours.
Before last weekend, I'd only ever used Megabus to get to Milwaukee, which is a 90 minute drive that I'd make if I had a car and is nowhere near far enough to justify actually flying there, even if this was back in the dark ages when fuel was actually affordable. It was an hour and a half on a bus, but I think I got some reading done (I think that was when I was reading The Fountainhead) and it was tolerable enough. I have it on good authority that even the four hour bus-ride from Chicago to Toledo is relatively painless, as “by the time it gets unbearable, you're there.” After nine hours on a bus between Chicago and Columbus, I think I've found that point at which it becomes not worth it at all.
To start with, some of you who have made this trip (and know it should be six hours) might be wondering why it took us nine. Evidently, you're supposed to go through Indianapolis if you want to get to Columbus, but throwing in Cincinnati, which is about an hour out of the way, throws the whole thing off.
If that was all it was, that the bus went a bit further south out of its way than it had to if it were strictly a Chicago-Columbus route, I'd have no problem. It told me that on the ticket, after all, and if I'm bad enough at geography to have not known how far out of the way Indianapolis and Cincinnati are, well, that's my fault, not the fault of the Megabus. Nor can I blame them for not being able to fall asleep. I can hardly fall asleep anyway, and being on a bus didn't help that any, particularly when the ride down was filled by listening to podcast after podcast. I would like to question their judgement in picking sites for dropoffs.
Both Chicago and Columbus are fine in this regard. Buses in Chicago stop at Union Station, which is useful because it's somewhat of a hub as far as both Metra and Amtrak trains, and is pretty close to the loop, where you can pick up any inner-city train you'd want. In Columbus, there's a stop at Ohio State (which is useful, because that's just as likely as not to be the reason you're going to Columbus) and at some sort of bus depot, which is at least still in the city. Getting off in Cincinnati at 5am in what appears to be the middle of the damn city (stopping on a street corner) is a bit of a stretch, but at least it seemed to be a pretty nice part of the city, and so that's fine. Indianapolis looks a bit better during the daylight, but stopping there at 3am is a different story. The lights come on, everyone wakes up and about a third of the passengers de-bus, while the rest of us sit and look. It appeared to be kind of an open plaza, which I'm fine with. Open plazas are fun. The seven 24-hour bail bondsman locations on the street perpendicular to ours were... something other than that. They were the only thing open, and though now it seems like not that bad a part of the city, when the only things that are open are “hey please get me out of jail” shops, well, I'm not sure what you're supposed to think.
Either way, it got me down to my friend's bachelor party without much trouble, and got me back to Chicago the next day (an hour late, due to the bus driver's frequent stops, leaving us all on the bus while he went to the restroom, and the ride up until Indianapolis was next to a woman who just flat out refused to do anything about her baby who was screaming its lungs off, but what are you going to do? Be a parent?) and while I wouldn't recommend it for nine hour trips, it was less expensive than a plane. So there's that.
I'm glad, even with gas prices, that I'm driving to Cleveland for the wedding this weekend. At least there'll be no screaming babies.
Tuesday, July 01, 2008
The Wonders of my Adventure Spoon
I was planning, initially, on writing another post where I whine about how maybe it'd be nice if I could run into Dominick's at 12:45am looking to buy some and soap and not have the five people in the only line open be doing their shopping for that month all at once. I pretty much fulfill all the stereotypes of the “lonesome bachelor”, but sweet mother of God, there's no reason to buy thirty Lean Cuisines all at once. The store's going to be there tomorrow.
So yes, I was planning on kvetching about that for a few paragraphs, especially as I rode home at one in the morning over roads which can charitably be called “paved”. But then, something happened.
I allowed myself an indulgence, you see. I don't have the best diet, but I've been trying to fix that, and decided to give myself yet another allowance. If I buy a sugary cereal (rather than something bran-y), well, I'm at least still getting milk, and that's good for you. So I bought a box of Frosted Flakes because it was on sale. I had settled on opening it as soon as I got home for a late night/pre-sleep snack (which considering how difficult I find it to get to sleep, was probably not the best plan) and wonder of wonders, there was a prize. I'd forgotten about prizes. I think most of the prizes I'd run across in the past few years had been some kind of lame temporary tattoo stuck somewhere in the middle of the box, or an advisement that you save up UPC codes in order to get some barely-worth-the-effort , piece of merchandising. When you get something solid, plastic and potentially useful in box, though, it's (apparently) a joyous experience.
Upon opening the box, I found a small plastic spoon in two parts. So that's actually the first thing. Not having to dig through a box of cereal and open a sugar-coated plastic bag is a bonus. And if you're completely unaware of the promotion, you don't find out on your fifth straight bowl of cereal at 3am on a Monday. You get to enjoy it straight away.
Apparently, it's an Indiana Jones Adventure Spoon, by which I mean a two-part plastic spoon emblazoned with a skull and other logos from the recent Indiana Jones and the Kingdom of the Crystal Skull. It's not going to affect whether I see the movie (I saw it the week it came out, and was somewhat disappointed, but thought it was a fun ride nonetheless. I could go in to exactly what I found objectionable about it, but I'll save that for another post), and so for me, it's just an extra spoon, which is good, because I don't have that many. And there's a small yellow light at the end of the (grip/barrel/whatever you call the part of the spoon you hold on to), such that when you press a button, the bowl of the spoon is yellow and glowing, like it's The Spoon of the Ages. Furthermore, simply pulling the bowl off results in a somewhat effective if low powered-and-yellow flashlight, which was effective enough to help me find my keys.
Before adventuring, please check your firearms, your satchel of survival gear and your nifty-plastic-spoon-that-lights-up.
And so, from what seemed to be a bad night at the supermarket, I now have a brand new utensil perfect for eating bowl after bowl of sugary cereal in a darkened apartment at five in the morning, staring into the middle distance and weeping quietly.
3.9/5 for the light-spoon.
So yes, I was planning on kvetching about that for a few paragraphs, especially as I rode home at one in the morning over roads which can charitably be called “paved”. But then, something happened.
I allowed myself an indulgence, you see. I don't have the best diet, but I've been trying to fix that, and decided to give myself yet another allowance. If I buy a sugary cereal (rather than something bran-y), well, I'm at least still getting milk, and that's good for you. So I bought a box of Frosted Flakes because it was on sale. I had settled on opening it as soon as I got home for a late night/pre-sleep snack (which considering how difficult I find it to get to sleep, was probably not the best plan) and wonder of wonders, there was a prize. I'd forgotten about prizes. I think most of the prizes I'd run across in the past few years had been some kind of lame temporary tattoo stuck somewhere in the middle of the box, or an advisement that you save up UPC codes in order to get some barely-worth-the-effort , piece of merchandising. When you get something solid, plastic and potentially useful in box, though, it's (apparently) a joyous experience.
Upon opening the box, I found a small plastic spoon in two parts. So that's actually the first thing. Not having to dig through a box of cereal and open a sugar-coated plastic bag is a bonus. And if you're completely unaware of the promotion, you don't find out on your fifth straight bowl of cereal at 3am on a Monday. You get to enjoy it straight away.
Apparently, it's an Indiana Jones Adventure Spoon, by which I mean a two-part plastic spoon emblazoned with a skull and other logos from the recent Indiana Jones and the Kingdom of the Crystal Skull. It's not going to affect whether I see the movie (I saw it the week it came out, and was somewhat disappointed, but thought it was a fun ride nonetheless. I could go in to exactly what I found objectionable about it, but I'll save that for another post), and so for me, it's just an extra spoon, which is good, because I don't have that many. And there's a small yellow light at the end of the (grip/barrel/whatever you call the part of the spoon you hold on to), such that when you press a button, the bowl of the spoon is yellow and glowing, like it's The Spoon of the Ages. Furthermore, simply pulling the bowl off results in a somewhat effective if low powered-and-yellow flashlight, which was effective enough to help me find my keys.
Before adventuring, please check your firearms, your satchel of survival gear and your nifty-plastic-spoon-that-lights-up.
And so, from what seemed to be a bad night at the supermarket, I now have a brand new utensil perfect for eating bowl after bowl of sugary cereal in a darkened apartment at five in the morning, staring into the middle distance and weeping quietly.
3.9/5 for the light-spoon.
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