Now A Major Moving Pitcher-Show

I'm in Elizabethtown.

And I have no freaking idea why anyone filmed anything here.

It's kinda pretty, relatively hilly, sort of cold, nicely spread out.

It's okay, it's not terrible, but not memorable.

I am, however, EXTREMELY DISAPPOINTED that I can't take a tour of Fort Knox. You know, personally guided by Auric Goldfinger himself.

EXTREMELY DISAPPOINTED.

KENTUCKY! WHY DO YOU DENY ME?

*Shrug*

I think I just wet my pants.

Japanese Spiderman PWNS.

Every time I hear about quantum computing...

I feel like burning witches.

Quantum computing is so far outside my experience with computational theory that I am as a club-wielding heathen, perplexed and frightened by the missionaries' so-called "science."

It's sorcery.

I need to read a lot now, just so I can make this correlate with every other bit of knowledge I've accumulated so far.

Next I'll be driving to places without getting in my car.

UPDATE: Okay, I feel a little better. Thanks, Slashdot. Mod +5 Informative/Funny. I'm going to be thinking about Schroedinger's Seppuku all day now.

Yeah.

So I need to update my links. I'll get around to it.

All I Need Is The Air That I Breath And To Love You.

I'm in the mood for a movie. In space. With monsters.

I think I need to rent Forbidden Planet.

In other news, I think I need to take up pyromania. I've discovered that I own ten million things, and they are all piled up in cardboard boxes in my new place. Things I couldn't possibly need. How could I need them? They're in boxes. If I needed them, I'd be looking for them.

I'm not looking for anything.

I nearly killed myself moving this past weekend. I'm discovering that not only do I own things I don't want, in some cases I own two or three of the same unneeded thing. It's like they're replicating.

Allow me to explain. Physical items have mass. When you have ten million physical items, even extremely small items, they weigh enough to kill a human male in his late twenties.

Things not only have weight (which, I must remind you, can kill you), but they have spacial dimensions, such as height, width, and depth. These are limiting factors. If you don't have room for ten million items, you're in trouble.

So now the only item I wish I had (but don't) is a flamethrower.



I will not deceive you. I was (am?) a Dungeons and Dragons nerd.

I loved playing a monk in DnD. Being a kung fu master was cool, but that wasn't what appealed to me. It was the SIMPLICITY. Monks don't carry weapons. They don't wear armor. They don't need money. They just beat the crap out of stuff.

I'd find myself rolling up monks, just so I wouldn't have to deal with recording all that annoying equipment on my character sheet.

So in summary, I'm so lazy, I don't even want to own things.

Hey.

Have a good week.

Moving.

Switching apartments this week. Won't have much time for updates. Still have a pile of comics I want to write about.

Going to Kentucky in a couple weeks. Will be staying in Elizabethtown(!). No, haven't seen the movie. Looked painfully lame. Maybe I'll meet Legolas, and fullfill the dream of adolescent girls everywhere.

Looking forward to that extra bedroom.

Adios.

Tycho on the Superbowl

From the good gents at Penny Arcade:
"In any case, this will be the last time I invest myself in a game where I have no power to determine the outcome. I really feel a need to emphasize the distinction between this and the sort of game that usually occupies my time. When I feel the kind of plundered devastation I felt on Sunday, there is usually a "learning phase" that follows it. It's the first step in a process, a chain of well-documented events which culminates in the expulsion self-doubt and leaves as the remainder the possibility of future victory. Provided, of course, that I have internalized the deep wisdom presented by the universe - taken the yoke of that strange intellect which courses through defeat."

This sums up precisely my issue with televised sports. You watch, someone wins, someone loses, and networks get paid. There is no phase of this process in which you actively participate.

In any kind of gaming (electronic, athletic, board, etc.), if you get your butt whipped, there's something you can do about that.

I watched the first half of the Super-Dee-Duper Bowl. Glimpsed the second half.

Then I sat down to play a game of Memory against Kate.

She beat me soundly. The kid has a photographic memory when it comes to cards laid out in a grid.

I think I'm going to need to start practicing Memory on my lunch breaks.

Joey's right again.

The Losers is a terrific book. Read the first nine issues last night.

Boy, it's good. It's like the A-Team, only with lots of killing. Great double-crosses, intense conspiracies, and lots of killing. Did I mention there's lots of killing? Lots of it.

Lots.

The fun part is, every time the Losers go on a mission, they go in with the intent of not killing anyone. And then things go bad, and they kill everyone anyway. So the killing's okay, because, you know, it's not intentional.

Of course, I'm not giving enough credit to the intricate plot, hilarious dialogue, and strong characterization. It's a Clancy novel with a sense of humor and a Patriot-Act-Age distrust of government agencies. And the art is very impressive. I'm surprised at how much I'm geeking out over Jock's panel layouts. That's right, panel layouts. The drawings are great as well, but the panel placement paces the action just right. So many good things going on with this book.

I feel like double-crossing someone, just because the Losers makes it so cool.

Just don't try to write anything immediately after reading this stuff, because you'll just want to write like Andy Diggle.

So Joey was right. Again.

What a jerk.