A coworker today asked which parent I identified with most. Most questions that are asked of me can be easily answered, but this one was much more difficult. Physically, my father and I are nearly identical; strangely, this is a trait my girlfriend has found to be attractive. What does that mean? Does she want to fuck my dad? Does she want to fuck both of us? These are the kinds of questions that keep me up at night.
But strictly speaking, I don't necessarily identify with either of my parents on a psychological level. They are conservative, supporting crazy shit like a flat tax and open gun rights and yadda yadda. These are ideas that I find repulsive in a literal sense. Don't get me wrong--my parents are fine people, and have done a great job raising a crazy kid, but I can't look at them and see myself. Apparently this is something you are supposed to see.
When I think about the people who've influenced my way of interpreting life, I am equally confounded. I think it's because I draw on everything around me. When I wake up in the morning, I am a blank slate, and I choose who I want to be that day. Granted there are a few commonalities between personas (I really like comics and my life's dream is get punched by Iron Mike Tyson), but overall, I like to keep people guessing.
Or do I? I don't know. I think being a randomized person (a fleshy iPod on shuffle) is a more romantic idea than actuality. More likely is that I'm in love with the idea of shifting; of being a different person from day to day. Almost certainly is that I want to avoid the eventuality of soul searching and discovering the person deep down.
I think I'd like what I find, but most others may not. Just a chance I don't want to take at the moment.
Wednesday, February 3, 2010
Thursday, January 28, 2010
Schweinfurt
While reading Malcolm Gladwell's What the Dog Saw, I was struck by an idea he presented in an article about mammography, pictures, and tactile experience. In essence, people subconsciously adhere to the philosophy of "a picture says thousand words"; or, to put it another way, we tend to believe pictures without any further analysis or stimulation. In regards to mammography, we can see pieces of evidence that may indicate the presence of breast cancer but this can be misleading--calcifications occur in many areas and in many shapes and sizes, but what one radiologist may see can differ wildly from another. However, tactile breast examination (or, as I would call it, "the good kind") can give us a much better idea of cancer growth, location, and lethality, all while utilizing an examination that lasts as little as five minutes per breast. I would assume that this would be less painful than getting your breast squeezed by an X-ray shooting robot.
In World War II, the Allies were convinced that eliminating the German ability to produce ball bearings--essential components in tanks, planes, and guns--would cripple any chances of the Nazis advancing any further. Thus began the mass bombing of Schweinfurt, Germany by planes outfitted with scopes allowing bombardiers to "put bombs in pickle buckets from 20,000 feet." This offensive proved to be a bust; with more accurate bombs, payloads could be decreased, resulting in explosives that damaged buildings and did little to the machinery inside. Gladwell's assertion is that with advances in photo imaging, we can see so much more detail, requiring an exponential increase in analysis to decipher said details.
To boil it all down, we can see things more clearly, but we need much more hands-on with things to fully understand them. Put this in perspective with a media and entertainment company; for the purposes of this discussion (and because they are my favorite), let's examine Nintendo.
As a subjective observer, Nintendo falls on both sides of this idea. Even with the advancements in imaging (focus groups, beta tests, et al), Nintendo continues to produce products that, upon tactile consideration, continue to perform. On the other hand, Nintendo has examined and refined all the information out there about market composition and, in my estimation, missed the mark by skewing simpler. Again, this is subjective, but I can't help but feel as though many recent releases condescend to competent, experienced gamers. I know full well that this perspective is counter to smart business practice ("Yes!" They'll scream. "Let's cater to an aging and decreasing consumer base! Straight to the top of the charts!"), but let's go back to Schweinfurt.
We could accurately place the bombs wherever they needed to go; in this case, ball bearing factories. This decreased the need for large, highly-explosive bombs that spread over a large area. Now all that was needed were smaller, more compact bombs--so small that you could fit many, many more on the plane. But these new explosives were anything but, doing only superficial damage to the structure and having no impact. The same strategy is implemented today by Nintendo: unleash a phalanx of titles defined to a certain audience and watch as they bounce off of the collective consciousness, making impacts on only a few. This makes me reminisce about the good old days, where titles like The Legend of Zelda: The Wind Waker transcended all demographics and was simply a great experience. They've still got that magic--take a look at New Super Mario Bros. or Super Mario Galaxy--but I can't help but wish this blitz would end.
In World War II, the Allies were convinced that eliminating the German ability to produce ball bearings--essential components in tanks, planes, and guns--would cripple any chances of the Nazis advancing any further. Thus began the mass bombing of Schweinfurt, Germany by planes outfitted with scopes allowing bombardiers to "put bombs in pickle buckets from 20,000 feet." This offensive proved to be a bust; with more accurate bombs, payloads could be decreased, resulting in explosives that damaged buildings and did little to the machinery inside. Gladwell's assertion is that with advances in photo imaging, we can see so much more detail, requiring an exponential increase in analysis to decipher said details.
To boil it all down, we can see things more clearly, but we need much more hands-on with things to fully understand them. Put this in perspective with a media and entertainment company; for the purposes of this discussion (and because they are my favorite), let's examine Nintendo.
As a subjective observer, Nintendo falls on both sides of this idea. Even with the advancements in imaging (focus groups, beta tests, et al), Nintendo continues to produce products that, upon tactile consideration, continue to perform. On the other hand, Nintendo has examined and refined all the information out there about market composition and, in my estimation, missed the mark by skewing simpler. Again, this is subjective, but I can't help but feel as though many recent releases condescend to competent, experienced gamers. I know full well that this perspective is counter to smart business practice ("Yes!" They'll scream. "Let's cater to an aging and decreasing consumer base! Straight to the top of the charts!"), but let's go back to Schweinfurt.
We could accurately place the bombs wherever they needed to go; in this case, ball bearing factories. This decreased the need for large, highly-explosive bombs that spread over a large area. Now all that was needed were smaller, more compact bombs--so small that you could fit many, many more on the plane. But these new explosives were anything but, doing only superficial damage to the structure and having no impact. The same strategy is implemented today by Nintendo: unleash a phalanx of titles defined to a certain audience and watch as they bounce off of the collective consciousness, making impacts on only a few. This makes me reminisce about the good old days, where titles like The Legend of Zelda: The Wind Waker transcended all demographics and was simply a great experience. They've still got that magic--take a look at New Super Mario Bros. or Super Mario Galaxy--but I can't help but wish this blitz would end.
Monday, November 23, 2009
Things That I Wished That I Loved To Do
As I type this, some whacked-out German pro skater (Grabke? Some historian will help out) is talking about growing up in East Berlin and stealing money from his mom to buy his first board (technically second, since he and his brother built a deck from scratch). To be honest, I love watching skate videos; specifically street vids. Skating is such a fluid sport, and watching a pro transition from deck to rail to deck to mini pipe is incredible. To a layman, it may look fairly simple, but that shit requires an absurd amount of coordination.
I always wished I had taken the time to learn how to skate; now, the envy I have towards skaters burns bright, like a putrid star, feeding planets life-giving rays in order for organisms to flourish and spread my hate among the galaxies. It seems the arc of my life has taken a sort of unfortunate turn south: my jolly girth, combined with my legendary motor skills, form a Japanese fighting robot the beats the shit out of all the cool prehistoric dinosaurs.
In addition to this, I always sort of pictured myself as a writer on a television program. In my dreams, these are people who choose which boobs to touch, how stars are born, and which heathen Christian is fed to the lion; oh, how my hilarious friends named Ari would laugh! My creativity tends to be volatile in nature, both in execution and content--at times I can write for hours or days about the most amazing shit, and other times I become road-blocked and refuse to put pen to paper (key to screen? What the fuck is the correct metaphor here?) out of abject fear of writing something "insipid," "uninspired," or "NCIS-quality."
Okay, I've switched programs: instead of eurotrash skating around a bombed-out Nazi base or something, I'm watching Nerdcore Rising, a documentary about nerd rappers. Should I want to be a nerd rapper or a documentarian? I guess this really has nothing to do with what I'm writing about, but I'm pretty sure I have no interest in either. As a documentarian, I'd be too biased towards whatever was funny and would be unable to present any topic faithfully. Any nerdcore rap I'd produce would be about comic book heroes, video games, typewriters; invariably, I would drop some sort of racial epithet or hilarious off-color comment in order to make people laugh. Because the cosmos is aligned in direct opposition to my happiness, the crowd would begin to boo and shout disparaging things about my penis. In my dreams, I have seen this eventuality. I have responded thusly: "Fuck you, universe."
This movie is great: one of the members of MC Frontalot's band is explaining the rules of Magic: The Gathering. This explanation lasts nearly three hours, but it's incredible: this kid's passion is palpable, like a delicious fruit. The scent is pungent, the taste extraordinary. Again, I'm digressing.
I hate soccer; I've never watched more than 30 minutes, the rules are ridiculous, it's fucking long as hell... And yet, being a soccer play looks so glamourous. Jet-setting around the world, kicking balls at Italian people--what's not to like?
This doc just showed the guys from Penny Arcade. Writing a profitable web comic--monetizing "shit from a butt," as it were--is about as close to "Man, I wish to shit I was doing this" as you can get. I'm constantly reminded that these guys write about themselves, yet don't, as their horrifying visages never show up in the comic proper; they use cool-looking stand-ins. Not me. If I can't make myself the center of attention, what's the point? I suppose that's the take-away of all this: I don't care what I do, as long as people love me.
Apologies. I must get ready for bed; I need to be up early to go to my job of caring for people who will never care for me.
I always wished I had taken the time to learn how to skate; now, the envy I have towards skaters burns bright, like a putrid star, feeding planets life-giving rays in order for organisms to flourish and spread my hate among the galaxies. It seems the arc of my life has taken a sort of unfortunate turn south: my jolly girth, combined with my legendary motor skills, form a Japanese fighting robot the beats the shit out of all the cool prehistoric dinosaurs.
In addition to this, I always sort of pictured myself as a writer on a television program. In my dreams, these are people who choose which boobs to touch, how stars are born, and which heathen Christian is fed to the lion; oh, how my hilarious friends named Ari would laugh! My creativity tends to be volatile in nature, both in execution and content--at times I can write for hours or days about the most amazing shit, and other times I become road-blocked and refuse to put pen to paper (key to screen? What the fuck is the correct metaphor here?) out of abject fear of writing something "insipid," "uninspired," or "NCIS-quality."
Okay, I've switched programs: instead of eurotrash skating around a bombed-out Nazi base or something, I'm watching Nerdcore Rising, a documentary about nerd rappers. Should I want to be a nerd rapper or a documentarian? I guess this really has nothing to do with what I'm writing about, but I'm pretty sure I have no interest in either. As a documentarian, I'd be too biased towards whatever was funny and would be unable to present any topic faithfully. Any nerdcore rap I'd produce would be about comic book heroes, video games, typewriters; invariably, I would drop some sort of racial epithet or hilarious off-color comment in order to make people laugh. Because the cosmos is aligned in direct opposition to my happiness, the crowd would begin to boo and shout disparaging things about my penis. In my dreams, I have seen this eventuality. I have responded thusly: "Fuck you, universe."
This movie is great: one of the members of MC Frontalot's band is explaining the rules of Magic: The Gathering. This explanation lasts nearly three hours, but it's incredible: this kid's passion is palpable, like a delicious fruit. The scent is pungent, the taste extraordinary. Again, I'm digressing.
I hate soccer; I've never watched more than 30 minutes, the rules are ridiculous, it's fucking long as hell... And yet, being a soccer play looks so glamourous. Jet-setting around the world, kicking balls at Italian people--what's not to like?
This doc just showed the guys from Penny Arcade. Writing a profitable web comic--monetizing "shit from a butt," as it were--is about as close to "Man, I wish to shit I was doing this" as you can get. I'm constantly reminded that these guys write about themselves, yet don't, as their horrifying visages never show up in the comic proper; they use cool-looking stand-ins. Not me. If I can't make myself the center of attention, what's the point? I suppose that's the take-away of all this: I don't care what I do, as long as people love me.
Apologies. I must get ready for bed; I need to be up early to go to my job of caring for people who will never care for me.
Tuesday, November 10, 2009
Previously On...: The Five Best Television Series of the '00s
*As it's been a while since I've had a computer and done any serious writing (outside of my faux-novel at work), so the first few posts will be lists, because they are easy and comforting and... well, easy.
Previously On...: The Five Best Television Series of the '00s
To say that television has evolved over the past decade would be an understatement. From the mockumentary U.S. adaptation of The Office to the high-drama-meets-science-fiction of Battlestar Galactica, storytelling has reached a new plateau on the small screen. And while I would be not only a liar but an outright bastard to say that I have seen every series that's been on TV this decade, I feel certain that I've seen enough to know what is what. I'm excited! Let's watch some tube.
5. Six Feet Under
What I have loved most about Six Feet Under--more than the expertly-crafted, three dimensional characters and outlandish-yet-strangely-realistic story lines--has been the sense of finality. From the first minutes of the first episode, this show about death had been at ease with the impending end. And every episode since the first followed the Fisher family's strange odyssey through life, love, and death; highlighting the tragedy and morbid comedy of the undertaking business. Yeah, morticians are traditionally a buttoned-down, no-nonsense bunch, but the foibles and warts of the characters kept me coming back again and again--even though I knew it had to end sometime.
4. Battlestar Galactica
To be honest, I have to admit that I had absolutely zero interest in the conflict between the humans and the cylons at first. Haven't we done this before? Man versus machine, yadda yadda yadda... But on the strong recommendation of numerous people, I watched the miniseries. After that, I watched the first episode. The taut writing, claustrophobic atmosphere, and excellent acting from a group of talented character actors was intoxicating. But the show went one step further, displaying an intense, insightful contrast between prolonging extinction and working to end another species. Sympathetic villains, daring allegories to current events, and an honest interpretation of religion rounded out an amazing experience. And while the show could not maintain the momentum of the first few seasons, it was never less than time well spent.
3. The Sopranos
Most would place this show firmly at the top of any list about best shows of the decade (or even ever, as some have said), and that certainly would be hard to argue against. Tony Soprano is one of the most multifaceted, despicable, lovable, conflicted villains to ever be written. And he's the main character! Trying to rationalize his actions, to not be repulsed by this man, is trying. This is to say nothing of his "families," a group of maladjusted and fascinating monsters. The Sopranos is a monstrosity of a program, both repelling and compelling. A fitting description.
2. The Wire
I only ever saw the first season of The Wire. That's how good of a show this was. I can't go into detail, but the drama between the police and a drug ring is absolutely riveting. Perfect pacing, storytelling, and characters. No show instills the want--no, need--to watch just one more episode.
1. Futurama
Tender, hilarious, tragic, incredible. Just a few of the hyperbole-free adjectives that can freely be applied to Matt Groening's masterpiece. The tragedy of a man out of his time, hopelessly in love with a woman who continually spurned his advances, his only friend a murderous, drunken robot... Who hasn't been there? Any show can make you laugh so hard that you cry. But to be able to turn around and break your heart in the same episode requires something truly legendary. Futurama was unfortunately cancelled before it was ready, although it has received numerous reprieves in the form of movies and a renewed run on Comedy Central. Should it reach only a fraction of its previous glory... Well, it still stands to be one of the best shows of the coming decade.
Previously On...: The Five Best Television Series of the '00s
To say that television has evolved over the past decade would be an understatement. From the mockumentary U.S. adaptation of The Office to the high-drama-meets-science-fiction of Battlestar Galactica, storytelling has reached a new plateau on the small screen. And while I would be not only a liar but an outright bastard to say that I have seen every series that's been on TV this decade, I feel certain that I've seen enough to know what is what. I'm excited! Let's watch some tube.
5. Six Feet Under
What I have loved most about Six Feet Under--more than the expertly-crafted, three dimensional characters and outlandish-yet-strangely-realistic story lines--has been the sense of finality. From the first minutes of the first episode, this show about death had been at ease with the impending end. And every episode since the first followed the Fisher family's strange odyssey through life, love, and death; highlighting the tragedy and morbid comedy of the undertaking business. Yeah, morticians are traditionally a buttoned-down, no-nonsense bunch, but the foibles and warts of the characters kept me coming back again and again--even though I knew it had to end sometime.
4. Battlestar Galactica
To be honest, I have to admit that I had absolutely zero interest in the conflict between the humans and the cylons at first. Haven't we done this before? Man versus machine, yadda yadda yadda... But on the strong recommendation of numerous people, I watched the miniseries. After that, I watched the first episode. The taut writing, claustrophobic atmosphere, and excellent acting from a group of talented character actors was intoxicating. But the show went one step further, displaying an intense, insightful contrast between prolonging extinction and working to end another species. Sympathetic villains, daring allegories to current events, and an honest interpretation of religion rounded out an amazing experience. And while the show could not maintain the momentum of the first few seasons, it was never less than time well spent.
3. The Sopranos
Most would place this show firmly at the top of any list about best shows of the decade (or even ever, as some have said), and that certainly would be hard to argue against. Tony Soprano is one of the most multifaceted, despicable, lovable, conflicted villains to ever be written. And he's the main character! Trying to rationalize his actions, to not be repulsed by this man, is trying. This is to say nothing of his "families," a group of maladjusted and fascinating monsters. The Sopranos is a monstrosity of a program, both repelling and compelling. A fitting description.
2. The Wire
I only ever saw the first season of The Wire. That's how good of a show this was. I can't go into detail, but the drama between the police and a drug ring is absolutely riveting. Perfect pacing, storytelling, and characters. No show instills the want--no, need--to watch just one more episode.
1. Futurama
Tender, hilarious, tragic, incredible. Just a few of the hyperbole-free adjectives that can freely be applied to Matt Groening's masterpiece. The tragedy of a man out of his time, hopelessly in love with a woman who continually spurned his advances, his only friend a murderous, drunken robot... Who hasn't been there? Any show can make you laugh so hard that you cry. But to be able to turn around and break your heart in the same episode requires something truly legendary. Futurama was unfortunately cancelled before it was ready, although it has received numerous reprieves in the form of movies and a renewed run on Comedy Central. Should it reach only a fraction of its previous glory... Well, it still stands to be one of the best shows of the coming decade.
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