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Philip J Reed
30 June 2009 @ 04:30 pm

Sorry for the delay.  I was eating sushi and reading "Shoeless Joe Jackson and the Fate of Atlantis."  Oddly enough I started this series of blog entries because I had nothing else to say on Live Journal, and I'm now deliberately not blogging about certain real-life developments for fear of interrupting my cockamamie video game countdown nobody cares about.

Ain't that a hole in the boat?
#8 -- Half-Life 2
PC, 2004



 

This is a gaming experience that is somewhat more experience than game, I admit, but Half-Life 2 is just phenomenal in so many remarkable ways. I’m of the opinion that the first-person shooter genre lends itself more readily to mindlessness (and artlessness) than probably any other genre in gaming, which is certainly a biased opinion, but boy oh boy does it help the exceptional stuff to stand out.

Half-Life 2 is an absolutely perfect experiment in mood-gaming. It’s chilling, but doesn’t go for the easy scare. It’s dramatic, but doesn’t resort to pre-determined deaths of likeable party members. Its story is rich and brainy, but we aren’t subjected to elaborate histories or genealogies.  It’s a game that feels, over and over again, as though it’s unfolding for the first time. It’s a game that so easily avoids the trappings of its own genre (and of others) simply by weaving an entire, coherent atmosphere out of suggestion and inference. 

Much was made of the impressive physics boasted by this game, and they certainly deserve their accolades. But as “technically” impressive as the physics (and, of course, physics-based puzzles) were, they served their real purpose in bridging the gap between gaming and reality. Nobody ever questions Mario’s physics, or Sonic the Hedgehog’s, and that’s okay, because they occupy a realm we will never know. We enjoy our time spent in those games, but, ultimately, we get to return home, to a world where things function very differently. On the other hand, Half-Life 2’s creaky valves, rusty filings, floating barrels, cement blocks and abandoned vehicles have too much in common (how they look, how they move, how they react) with the world we know to be left entirely behind when we shut the game off.

Admittedly, the most effective atmosphere in Half-Life 2 is reappropriated from George Orwell’s 1984, but that’s more a result of inspiration than imitation. City 17 is its own unit with its own rules and its own distinctive flavor of dystopia. The game can start to feel slightly schizophrenic once the player escapes from City 17, but it’s the effectiveness of this schizophrenia (and the constant uncertainty regarding even what KIND of game we’ll be playing in the next chapter) that keeps us under its spell. From the frantic helicopter chase aboard the airboat to the survival-horror episode in Ravenholm to the brilliantly structured “standing ground” segments of Nova Prospekt, the game never lets you get too comfortable with any one strategy for long.

Half-Life 2 is precisely the kind of game I wish all first-person shooters could be. Every kill is satisfying, every chapter is a surprise, and every puzzle has a root in the same logic we use to make it through the day. It’d be a stretch to call it perfect...but not an entirely uncomfortable one.

Where can you play it now?  Don't bother with retail (you'll have to download updates anyway).  It's available for download from Steam on your PC, either alone or as part of The Orange Box.  Buying it separately is somewhat foolish, as The Orange Box also includes two further installments of the Half-Life 2 saga, a universally-adored first-person puzzler called Portal, and multi-player killfest Team Fortress 2, which is probably fun for people who like that sort of thing.  Oh, Half-Life 2 was also ported to the Xbox and PS3, whatever those are.
 
Additional:  an online friend of mine points out that you Mac / Linux users can use Crossover Games to play Half-Life 2 and all sorts of other excellent Steam you're not supposed to be able to enjoy, without having to run a virtual machine.  Now where the heck was he with this kind of advice when *I* was saddled with a Mac?

 
 
Philip J Reed
25 June 2009 @ 04:46 pm
Another installment on the list today.  I have some BIG WEEKEND PLANS DUDES so I don't know when I'll bother to write up #8.  But when I do, oh man, it'll blow you away.

PS--I promise they aren't all NES games. 

I promise.


#9 -- Mike Tyson's Punch-Out!!

Nintendo Entertainment System, 1987


Mike Tyson’s Punch-Out!! is an oddity in all kinds of ways, so let’s go over them in turn.

For starters, look at the title. It’s a game that was built and marketed as a celebrity cash-in, and yet...it’s a genuine classic. (How many licensed games can you say that about?) Also, it was originally an arcade game, but—unlike nearly every other console adaptation in those days—the more-technically-limited port was actually better than the original. Like...a lot better. Like...it’s almost worth pretending the arcade game never happened, and the arcade game was awesome. It’s just that much better.

But the strangest thing about the game, from a historical perspective, is that it’s a sports title that doesn’t make any attempt whatsoever to play like the sport it represents. Alright, granted, there wasn’t much you could do with two buttons and a D-pad to make gamers feel like they were REALLY playing a game of football or hockey either, but there’s no question that those games at least tried to pull off a passable simulation. Even Atari’s boxing game tried to give some small sense of what the sport was actually about: pummeling your opponent mindlessly and relentlessly.

With Punch-Out!!, however, what we got was one part puzzler and two parts rhythm game. There’s nothing sporting about this boxing game at all. In fact—and, yes, I say this to anger boxers and boxing-fans everywhere—Punch-Out!! was a much more strategic game than the sport itself deserved. You were left with, basically, brutality for nerds. We were fighting against opponents that were literally three times our size, but all we needed was brainpower to take them down. Mindless brawn would only get you so far (Piston Honda to be exact...), but a good mind would take you all the way up to—and through—Iron Mike himself. (Imagine that. Seriously. Being crowned the heavy-weight champion of the world just by out-thinking your opponent. There’s a very real reason this game appealed to the kids playing this game in a dark room on a sunny day...)

Punch-Out!! was a game of memorization and quick thinking. You were rewarded for learning patterns, and penalized for acting out of turn. It’s the most polite boxing game in history, and its success threw the door wide open for future Nintendo sports titles that sacrificed realism for the sake of wider (and rewarding) accessibility, such as the Mario Kart series, and Wii Sports.

The characters also brought a welcome dose of humor to the NES, with their cartoon-like boobishness and exaggerated antics. Remember that we were at the mercy of underpaid, disinterested (and sometimes vindictive) translators at that time, and so clever wordplay and snappy dialogue wasn’t the way in which video games would make us laugh. (At least, not with the right kind of laughter.) Broad physical stereotypes and funny faces don’t need translation, though, and so every ounce of Punch-Out!!’s comic quirkiness made it through.

Where can you play it now?  Nowhere!  Unless you have a cartridge.  The Wii offers a download of a later version of the game, featuring the lame-by-default Mr. Dream instead of Tyson.  It's without question worth a download, but the satisfaction of knocking out this vanilla-skinned imposter just doesn't compare.  The Virtual Console also features the less-good (but still good) Super Punch-Out!!, and a brand new Wii installment of the game was released a month or so ago to overall great reviews.  (Which it very much does deserve.)

 
 
Philip J Reed
24 June 2009 @ 11:01 am
Since I haven't been using this journal for much lately--my writing is vested elsewhere, for the time being--I thought maybe I'd inspire myself to be more livejournally productive by considering, and then writing about, my choices for the 10 best video games of all time.

All platforms, all genres, all lengths, all prices.  Though, by the time I get to the end of this thing, I think you'll figure out where my allegiances lie.

Anyway, I hope you enjoy, and I look forward to reading loads and loads of comments about these games, and all the ones that I was a dick not to mention. 


#10 -- Bubble Bobble
1988, Nintendo Entertainment System



Bubble Bobble is pretty much the ideal encapsulation of the NES-era of video gaming, and it wasn’t even made by Nintendo. Nor was it a console original. (Taito, and an arcade port, for the record.) But it serves as such a perfect magnification of everything the NES tried to do, and of everything that it did so well.

It’s a game that exists for one reason and one reason only: to be fun. There’s a story there, about why you’re a dinosaur blowing bubbles in a cave full of monsters...but who cares about that; you’re a dinosaur blowing bubbles in a cave full of monsters! Bubble Bobble was its own justification for itself. On paper, it seems like nothing. (Or, hey, I’ll even grant that it sounds like a bad idea.) But in practice, the game demonstrated that the best video games will always be the ones that are inherently fun to play.

It embraced the limitations of the console both visually and aurally, and it gave us a game that remains unforgettable even to those of us who haven’t played it for about twenty years. And I’m not using the term “unforgettable” loosely; the moment you saw the screen shot above, you heard the entire theme song, note for note, didn’t you? And if you didn’t hear it then, you’re definitely hearing it now.

The game is adorable, instantly gratifying, and a lot of fun. The early levels are easy enough for children to work through, but the game gets more difficult at a perfectly-measured pace, with gamers of all skill levels being left behind at one stage or another, until only the most devoted (and least-prone to frustration) remain. It’s fun enough that you don’t need to beat it to fall in love with it, and it’s addictive enough that that “continue” option will get a lot of use, well into the night, and then into the weekend.

Adding to its appeal was the addition of a simultaneous second player. Most NES games (both before and after Bubble Bobble) would have players alternating turns, which was fun, yes, but fighting separately for a high score didn’t compare to racing each other for the same powerup. Bubble Bobble was mainly a cooperative game, but once the enemies were eliminated from any given stage, you both had a few seconds to compete for the bonus food and snack items. And that, for some reason still unknown to psychological science, was at least as fun as the main game.  (Also oddly satisfying was using this time to blow bubbles in each other's faces.  Ineffective, but somehow also irresistable.)

It’s tough to find any fault at all with Bubble Bobble. It uses its simplicity and its limitations to its decided advantage, and is stronger for it. It’s big, it’s quirky, and it’s deserving of a lifetime’s worth of fondness.

Where can you play it now?  Well the Wii has two versions available:  a port of the NES version on the Virtual Console, and a (thankfully faithful) remake on WiiWare, the latter of which doubles the amount of levels available, allows additional level packs to be downloaded, and features simultenous 4-player madness.  Either version is an excellent purchase.

 
 
Philip J Reed
14 June 2009 @ 04:33 pm


I went to see Up this weekend, because it's been getting some phenomenal reviews from Pixar friends and foes alike.  I'm not going to write a review of it.  I'm not even sure where my musings are going to lead.  But it's a film that does incline me toward musing in the first place, and that happens so rarely anymore that I probably shouldn't stifle it.

Actually, maybe I will give a slight review:  it was very, very good.  It wasn't excellent, but it was maybe only a notch or two below where it should have been.  That, as they say, is close enough for me.

You already know the plot, I'm sure, and knowing the plot is really all you'll need in order to be able to predict the grand life lessons that the movie intends to preach...and that's okay.  I don't mind mixing a little sermon with my song.  It's just that this movie sort of...oh, I don't know.  It preached its lesson loud and clear, but didn't very well lead by example.  You'll watch the film and you'll come away teary-eyed, but it's more of a "do as I say, not as I do" kind of thing.  I'm trying to say all this without spoilers and it's not working, so my next paragraph will contain at least one major spoiler.  (Though if you haven't managed to piece together every major event of the film from its 30 second TV trailers, you're probably around 6 years old.  Or a dog.)

The moral of the story, in some sense, is not to let life get in the way.  It's to remember that your time here is limited.  It's to make sure you're always aware that time moves in one direction only because if you don't pay attention to things like this you're going to wake up one morning and it's going to be too late.

Good lessons, all of them.

But...well...it's NOT too late for our plucky elderly hero.  He's so old (HOW OLD IS HE??)...he's SO OLD that he can't get out of bed without popping all of his joints into place and he's unable to walk down the stairs of his own volition.  But, in the end, that doesn't stop him from swinging on vines and sword fighting and clinging by his fingernails to a soaring airship.  Or any of the other Indiana Jones crap he does.

So, okay, fine.  It's a cartoon.  It's a film.  Most important, it's fiction.  I don't care.  If they tell me an 80-year-old man can turn a somersault while firing a rocket launcher and land safely in a thimble of water I'm fine with that.  But don't use such an image to try to tell me that life is too precious.  That's the wrong moral.  John Lennon said that life is what happens while we're busy making other plans.  He didn't add, "But that's okay, because even when you're really, really old you can do all the same stuff."

It's the wrong moral.  The moral SHOULD have been that the old man (I forget his name, and it isn't important) waited too long.  That's certainly what happened to his wife.  They postponed the adventure they promised to each other as children, and then they got old, and then she died.  The old man got sad, but then flew his house to South America and got into a fistfight on top of a moving dirigible. 

Huh?

The thing is, the movie WANTS to desperately to hammer its moral home.  And, hey, it does.  But it hammers the moral home periodically, whenever it's not busy doing contrary things.  If the film didn't want to hammer any morals home, that would be fine.  It would exist on its own terms, and any sermonizing we tried to insist upon would be up to us to rationalize.  As it stands, it's basically that scene from The Simpsons where Homer is so amused by his ability to make silly noises that he forgets what he's supposed to be lecturing Bart about.  ("Oh yeah...stay out of my booze.")

Does it want to be a fun movie with old people duking it out and spitting false teeth at each other, or does it want to teach us a valuable life lesson?  It wants both.  And it succeeds at both, until you stop to think about it.  (Which, to the film's credit, probably won't happen until a few minutes after it ends.)

There needed to be a moment during which the old man realized he had waited too long to accomplish something.  I don't care what, just as long as it's something.  If you want him to fly his house to South America, fine.  He can do that.  But give him a secondary goal of scaling the highest mountain, or something, only to realize that he's no longer in any shape to do it.  Hell, give him the secondary goal of winning a taco-eating competition, only to realize his heartburn will prevent him from making it even to the semi-finals.  Anything.  You're giving us the moral, Up.  It's in your lap to illustrate it.

It can easily enough be argued that the film's moral is something more like, "It's never too late to live your dreams."  Except for two things:  the movie contradicts that, too (it's certainly too late for the old guy's wife), and the fact that...well...who cares?  "It's never too late" is the most passive moral I can think of.  We don't even have to learn from it.  If we don't learn from it, that's okay, we can learn it later.  It's a moral that postpones itself indefinitely, and it's kind of lame to illustrate it by having old people swinging on garden hoses over treacherous chasms.  (Because guess what, friends...in real life, it's often "too late" to do that kind of thing and survive.)

In truth, the movie suggested to me, in a lot of ways, a cheerier, kid-friendly version of The Life Aquatic With Steve Zissou.  Similar "past their prime" characters on one last big adventure, the search for a mythical creature that may not exist, the arrival of a surrogate son, the gradual assembly of a replacement family for one lost long ago...right down to the adoption of somebody else's dog.

Was this deliberate?  No, of course not.  Apart from those few points, there's very little on the surface to warrant comparison.  But The Life Aquatic tells a similar enough story that by the end of Up, you'll be wishing for Wes Anderson's complex anti-moral, the stuff to fuel coffee-shop discussions for a decade after you've seen it.  With Up, you can say to each other, "It's never too late to live your dreams."

And you know what?

It won't have any impact whatsoever.

It won't cause anybody to reconsider their priorities.

And why would it?  It's never too late.  They can always do it tomorrow.

If you want a similar story with a more profound conclusion, watch The Life Aquatic.  If you want the same moral told a thousand times more masterfully, watch the clip below from The Armando Iannucci Shows.
 
 
Philip J Reed
08 June 2009 @ 03:28 pm
The very first Afterbirth fan-project.  Or, maybe, it's grounds for the very first Afterbirth unauthorized-use-of-intellectual-property lawsuit. 

Andrew Edmark--good friend and good director both--is one of a handful of fortunate folks with access to the "completed" (quotation marks well-deserved) novel, and he took it upon himself to bind the entire thing into a paperback-sized tangible object, rather than a big, floppy, ugly manuscript.  The picture is above.  Don't ask me what he did specifically.  He used glue or something, I don't know.

Anyway, the good news is that Mr. Edmark (whose Uncle Ned owns a really kickin' waffle house, if you're ever in the Little Pines area) has been enjoying the book to a very reassuring degree.  As ever, the author remains a harsh critic of his own work, and so it's hugely satisfying for me to be quite so pleased with something I've written...and finding out that the first opinions (as they trickle in) match up pretty well with my own assessment.

David Black, another truly excellent--and patient--human being, has finished his fact-finding trek through the completed manuscript, making him the very first person (apart from yours truly) to have read the entire story cover to cover.  His final opinion?  He enjoyed it so much that he doesn't feel payment is necessary. 

(Of course, I will pay him...but how nice is it to hear something like that?)

I'm very excited to hone this very-deserving text into its final, smoothest shape.  The writing process has been a great deal of fun from the very first page (which, incidentally, no longer exists), but it's also been very challenging.  Some very good material has had to go (for various structural reasons), and that's heart-breaking.  But in the end, it's the final project that speaks for itself, and that project has only gotten stronger with each amputation. 

This is really going to be great stuff, folks...keep your fingers crossed for me.  The real adventure begins when I start shopping it around to agents.  I hope they are as receptive to the work as my few readers so far have been.
 
 
Philip J Reed
26 May 2009 @ 09:39 pm



Me and five of my clones (or maybe it was 6 of my clones without me) got together for a one-time only event and jam jam jammed the pants off of Sukiyaki. Luckily the whole thing was captured on film! Sorry for the crappy sound quality, but this is truly a once in a lifetime event. (Celebs in the audience include Richie Tenenbaum, Zoidberg and Adolf Hitler.)
 
 
Philip J Reed
25 May 2009 @ 10:52 pm
I was going to take a picture of my refrigerator open, revealing all of the shelves stocked with beer.  And I was going to write Happy Memorial Day underneath the picture.

It would have been funny.
 
 
Philip J Reed
20 May 2009 @ 02:46 pm

I apologize that all of my updates have been Afterbirth-related.  And that they've been so infrequent.  Chalk this up to a devoted and extensive process of revision, correspondence with the first of my "focus group" critics, and...um...this week's release of Punch-Out!! Wii.

I'm not quite ready to break that habit, yet, though, so here is a chart that Friend-to-the-Semen David Black made while reading.  It's the deceptively simple genealogy of our humble narrator.

Possibly.



Click to make bigger.

...possibly.
 
 
Philip J Reed
14 May 2009 @ 08:48 am

My weekend involves thumb surgery.  Don't speak to me, friends; I will be grouchy.

My weekend will also involve reading through notes that the fantastic David Black has been giving me on my novel.  A more helpful critic I could not ask for.

My weekend will also involve wishing it was next week, which is when Punch-Out!! comes out for the Wii.  There's only one new character (the absurdly lame "Disco Kid") and he looks like a guy I used to work with at the appliance store.  Like, scarily like the guy.

Speaking of video games, if you have a Nintendo DS, pick up Henry Hatsworth in the Puzzling Adventure.  It's a hell of a lot of fun...you play an elderly British adventurer accumulating treasures from around the world.  Very much inspired by the classic Duck Tales game on the NES, but with a whole load of ironic humor and self-awareness tossed in.

There's a Venture Bros. connection, too...I found an interview with Kyle Gray (who created the game) and asked him the following question in the comments section:

Was the voice of the female boss with the purple dress and the veil (I forget her name) modelled after Dr. Girlfriend, from the Venture Bros cartoon? It almost sounds like a direct impersonation.

To which he replied:

Totally - the Venture Brothers is one of the best shows out there right now. Actually all of the character voices were done by one amazingly talented guy. I wish I had his voice!

So pick it up, Venture fans; Dr. Girlfriend has a surprise cameo!
 
 
Philip J Reed
09 May 2009 @ 12:52 pm
During my most recent comb through the entirety of Afterbirth (you know, that novel I'm always going on about) I thought I'd keep a running list of the references (typically--but not always--oblique) to various specific songs in the text.  This is everything I've noticed (some, no doubt, have been forgotten), in sequence.  Most of these songs are very good.  Not all of them are.  I make no promises about the "listenability" of this playlist as a whole; I just thought it would be an interesting curio.

I hasten to point out that by no means is this novel a "rock opera."  IE:  You wouldn't be able to piece anything at all about the book together from analyzing these musical touch-points.  Still, I won't stop you from doing so, as a large part of me would be quite curious about what you come up with.

My next step will be receiving and interpreting feedback from my "focus group," and then...by the end of the year hopefully...soliciting agents.  It's a very exciting time for me...my longest-gestating project is nearing completion.  Since I can't share the complete text with you just yet, I hope this will be enjoyable in some way as well. 

Without further ado...

Afterbirth:  The Comedy of Miscarriage
Oblique Soundtrack Album
http://www.megaupload.com/?d=TPEBTF6A

1)  Heavy Things -- Phish
2)  Come as You Are -- Nirvana
3)  Time is Passing -- The Who
4)  Highway 61 Revisited -- Bob Dylan
5)  Percy's Song -- Bob Dylan
6)  Hotel Chelsea Nights -- Ryan Adams
7)  Lone Pilgrim -- Bob Dylan
8)  Joe's Garage -- Frank Zappa
9)  Mary Anne With the Shaky Hand -- The Who
10)  I Don't Believe You -- Bob Dylan
11)  Vultures -- Phish
12)  Bandit -- Neil Young & Crazy Horse
13)  Splendid Isolation -- Warren Zevon
14)  The Spark That Bled -- Flaming Lips
15)  Rocky Top -- Ricky Skaggs
16)  Glide II -- Phish
17)  No Words -- Paul McCarney & Wings
18)  I Hope That Something Better Comes Along -- Kermit and Rowlf
19)  In the Light -- Led Zepplin
20)  Bow to the Sad Lady -- Ryan Adams
21)  Moma Dance -- Phish
22)  We Better Talk This Over -- Bob Dylan
23)  I've Known No War -- The Who
24)  The Chain -- Fleetwood Mac
25)  Totally Nude -- Talking Heads
26)  To Ramona -- Bob Dylan
27)  Fast Enough For You -- Phish
28)  Helpless -- Crosby, Stills, Nash & Young
29)  See That My Grave is Kept Clean -- Lightning Hopkins
30)  Dixie -- Bob Dylan
31)  Queen Bitch -- David Bowie
32)  We Want a Rock -- They Might Be Giants
33)  Go Now -- Moody Blues
34)  Crosseyed and Painless -- Talking Heads
35)  Never -- Trey Anastasio & Tom Marshall
36)  Comfortably Numb -- Pink Floyd
37)  Hurricane -- Bob Dylan
38)  On a Night Like This -- Bob Dylan
39)  I Am a Child -- Buffalo Springfield
40)  I See Monsters -- Ryan Adams
41)  Parasite -- Nick Drake
42)  Undun -- The Guess Who
43)  All You Need is Love -- The Beatles
44)  Ragged & Dirty -- Bob Dylan
45)  Going to California -- Led Zepplin
46)  Peaches en Regalia -- Frank Zappa
47)  "Heroes" -- David Bowie
48)  Alive Again -- Trey Anastatio
49)  Crash -- David Byrne
50)  You Better You Bet -- The Who
51)  Wind Up Workin' in a Gas Station -- Frank Zappa
52)  Tired Eyes -- Neil Young
53)  Love the One You're With -- Crosby, Stills, Nash & Young
54)  Business Time -- Flight of the Conchords
55)  When the Tigers Broke Free -- Pink Floyd
56)  Nothing -- Phish
57)  Where Are You Tonight? (Journey Through Dark Heat) -- Bob Dylan
58)  The Boxer -- Simon & Garfunkel
59)  Tiny Apocalypse -- David Byrne
60)  Never Tell -- Violent Femmes
61)  Love Sick -- Bob Dylan
62)  I am a Rock -- Simon & Garfunkel
63)  Walk on the Water -- David Byrne
64)  The Kids Don't Stand a Chance -- Vampire Weekend
 
 
Philip J Reed
03 May 2009 @ 11:05 am
Total pages of Afterbirth upon completion - 250

Total chapters - 53

Number of good chapters - more than I had actually thought

Number of days set aside this weekend for proofing - 3

Games of Super Mario Galaxy I'll play instead of proofing - 6

Number of pages proofed so far - 156

Number of chapters proofed so far - 38

Total number of pages removed - 24

Number of real-life people who have made their mark upon the sections I've finished proofing - 48

Number of songs referenced obliquely in the sections I've finished proofing - 46

Number of those songs that were written or performed by Bob Dylan - 10

Number of those songs that were written or performed by The Muppets - 1

Number of sores in mouth driving me crazy during proofing - 1

Number of Starbucks employees who now know me by name - 3

Fun things to do in Sebring that I am missing out on by virtue of staying home editing a novel - 0
 
 
Philip J Reed

http://www.foxnews.com/story/0,2933,518244,00.html

A worker was about to fix a broken rock-lifting robot. He'd shut the power off, but the machine suddenly woke up and grabbed the man by the head.

Interesting word choice, here, isn't it?  When the compressor in your refrigerator or air-conditioner kicks on, would you call that "waking up?"  What about when your phone rings?  More likely we'd just think of these devices as...um...doing exactly what it was they were designed to do.

In this instance, it's a rock-crushing robot that engages its rock-crushing mechanism when something is between its rock-crushing robo-claws.

Is it because the robot is built to crush whatever it's given and is therefore unable to realize that it's holding a human head?  Or is it because the robot WOKE UP AND CRAVED HUMAN BLOOD?  You decide!!!!

It really doesn't seem newsworthy to me.  Like, not even newsworthy in the squirrel-that-looks-like-Lincoln way.  If some dope crawled into his oven because he throught it was unplugged, and then suffered mild discomfort as the temperature around him rose, would that be worth an article?  It might be worth a psychiatric investigation, but that's about it.

And what kind of bozo would stick his head between the rock-crushing claws of a DERANGED EVIL ROBOT anyway?  Even if he thought it was off?  Isn't this why you're told never to point a gun at somebody, even if you're sure it's not loaded?  Answer:  yes, this is why you're told never to point a gun at somebody, even if you're sure it's not loaded.  You're NEVER sure it's not loaded.  Never ever ever.  Because two seconds later your best friend is dead on the floor of your parents' bedroom.  Or C3PO is crushing your skull with a merciless noogie.

So the robot was not self-aware, the guy sticking his head into a rock-crushing mechanism was just a moron, nobody was killed or injured, and no legal actions are being persued.  At all.  Slow news day?

Fox News really needed a better angle on this story.  For instance, I wonder if the killbot voted for Obama...
 
 
Philip J Reed
24 April 2009 @ 07:57 pm
Total pages of Afterbirth upon completion - 250

Total chapters - 53

Number of good chapters - undetermined

Number of days set aside this weekend for proofing - 3

Games of Mario Kart I'll play instead of proofing - 2,000,000

Number of pages proofed so far - 34

Number of chapters proofed so far - 8

Total number of pages removed - 3

Number of hours spent trying to ignore the jackhammering or whatever the hell they're doing in the apartments below and adjacent to mine - however many hours there have been in this day so far

Number of real-life people who have made their mark upon the sections I've finished proofing - 37

Number of songs referenced obliquely in the sections I've finished proofing - 11

Number of those songs that were written or performed by Bob Dylan - 4

Number of donuts consumed during proofing - 3

Gallons of apple juice consumed during proofing - .75

Haircuts received - 1

Haircuts given - 0

Number of tweets twittered instead of proofing - 8

Number of boxed-sets ripped to iTunes while proofing to listen to while proofing - 3

Number of those boxed-sets that are Bob Dylan's - 2

Minutes until I give up trying to tune out jackhammers and go to Starbucks instead - 53

Minutes wasted trying to think of things to put in this post - 8

Fun things to do in Sebring that I am missing out on by virtue of staying home editing a novel - 0
 
 
Philip J Reed
21 April 2009 @ 03:34 pm

http://www.avclub.com/articles/the-state-dvd-confirmation-and-an-official-trailer,26914/

Something like 5 years after the commentaries and special features were assembled, the complete collection of The State's episodes will be released on DVD.  And whatever the price is, it's going to be a bargain.

I absolutely love The State.  It's more than just a nostalgic thing for me ("Remember when MTV stopped playing music in favor of TV shows, but the TV shows were actually good?"), it's actually--and I'm saying this is full and complete honesty--probably the best sketch comedy show ever made.

Really. 

I mean that.

What would its competition be? 

Monty Python's Flying Circus?  I'd argue that this would be a stronger contender for "most important" than it would be for "best."  It was certainly a great show, and enormously influential to this day, but...let's face it.  They did produce some utter shit.  And though they also produced some of the best sketches in history, it didn't always seem like they were able to tell the difference.

Saturday Night Live?  The first few seasons (John Belushi, Dan Aykroyd, Bill Murray, Gilda Radner, Chevy Chase...) and a bunch of those middle-years seasons (Phil Hartman, John Lovitz, Dana Carvey, Chris Farley...) are deserved contenders.  But we're talking about a show that sometimes takes half a decade or longer to reverse the wheels of its own awfulness.

MadTV?  Haha, jk.

The Kids in the Hall?  Sue me, but I never really got into them.  I respect them, but it always seemed, to me, like they thought they were being funnier than they actually were.

Mr. Show?  Probably overall the strongest contender I've mentioned (in terms of a great-episodes-to-total-number-of-episodes ratio) but despite some brilliant writing and performances, there's an overpowering sense that it was canceled just as it was becoming truly confident.  It did its absolute strongest stuff toward the end, when they were less afraid to really polish and run with an idea for a quarter of an episode.  Sadly, this is also where they did some of their weakest stuff.  I guess the confidence kicked in around the same time as the fatigue, so who knows.

But The State was just...it was just wonderful.  Every episode had more than its share of painfully funny moments, and despite the fact that I haven't even seen this show since I was...um...16 or so, I still remember most of my favorite sketches vividly.  And, like all great comedy shows of this type, its vocabulary has grafted itself onto my vocabulary.  ("I can't help but concur!"  "They were chemically man-made like the Incredible Hulk."  "Let's consider this off limits, as a favor to me.")

It's possible, I admit, that seeing this show again so many years later will reveal to me that its greatness existed only in my mind.

But you know what?  I already know that's not true.  Unlike so many other things I enjoyed at that time in my life, hindsight has never seen it fit to reappraise this particular gem.

I cannot wait for this.  July simply can't come soon enough.
 
 
Philip J Reed
Last night, I finished a project that I've been working on for four years of my life.  Five years is a long time.  A lot has changed in five years.  A lot of people I care about have come and gone.  A lot of my own projects have either flourished or failed.  The person who wrote Chapter 53 last night has very little in common with the person who started Chapter 1 all that time ago.  I'm displaced significantly in space and time.  I'm a whole other man.  The novel that developed is something very, very different from the novel that was intended.

Afterbirth:  The Comedy of Miscarriage began as an experiment for National Novel Writing Month.  The 10,000 word goal that participants are expected to achieve would result in a pretty slender novel.  I equated, at the time, "slender" with "light."  I thought I'd write something simple.  Something funny.  (Humor is a great way to get people on your side.  And because laughter is immediate--unlike, say, significant reappraisal of the world around you--you can gauge how well you've done just by watching your audience.)

I decided I'd write a story told from the point of view of a sperm.  He would narrate, for the benefit of the reader, the circumstances that led him to fertilize an egg, to develop briefly in the womb, and, ultimately, to suffer the embarrassment of miscarriage.  It was going to be light.  It was going to be Tristram Shandy for the cellular audience.

But as I wrote, and as the month ran down, I was finding it more interesting to explore the backgrounds of the larger, human characters in the story.  Charlie and Anna, the young couple whose night of anti-passion nearly brought a child into the world.  Charlie's father, Anna's father, Charlie's younger brother, Anna's younger sister.  Charlie's ex-girlfriend.  His therapist.  His therapist's ex-girlfriend...patterns emerged.  Themes.  Parentage as more than genealogy.  Inter- and intra-gender relationships.  Life as a series of narrowing disconnects.  It was still a comedy, but it was a comedy on a much larger scale, and now that the characters were developing, it was a much more affecting work.  Punchlines had human consequences.  And our narrator, doomed to never even enter the world he was creating for his readers, had that much more to be bitter about.  (I can honestly say that no narrator in the history of English literature has had to suffer in quite this way for his art.)

And the project carried me (and was sometimes carried by me) for five very long, very full, very difficult years.  I would not let it die; I owed it to this book.  Its potential was too great.  It meant too much to me, and it was clear to me that this was something very much on a different plane from the types of things I normally produced.  This was special.  It needed special care.  It needed to grow.  It needed to become.

For four of these five years, Afterbirth did not have an ending.  At least, not a recorded one.  I knew where it was going.  I knew how it was going to end.  In a general sense, nothing changed.  I wasn't waiting for a better resolution to occur to me; it was there.  It was already there, and I just needed to write it.

But I didn't write it.  I didn't write it because I didn't want to give myself closure.  I did not want to bring these characters to the ends of their narrative arcs because I wanted them to haunt me.  I wanted to be troubled at night by the project I had never punctuated.  I wanted it to bother me, because if it didn't bother me, I'd never go back to give it the attention it deserved.  It would have been "done."  And I didn't want it to be "done."  Not yet.  Because it wasn't ready to be "done."  It needed more time.  I needed more time.  I needed to develop as an artist.  It needed to develop as a statement.

And so my characters were trapped for years in narrative limbo, words on the tips of their tongues, resolutions just on the horizon, but never getting any closer.

Last night, I brought them closer.  I brought them all the way up to the end.  And now the process of the final-edit begins.  I plan on giving it a complete sweep within the next few weeks.  Then I will give it to a trusted friend to read, in order to make recommendations and hopefully catch whatever errors remain.  I will then give it another sweep incorporating the valid and important suggestions and correcting the errors.  It will then be delivered to a second trusted friend as the ultimate failsafe pass.  After that, I'll do my final round of corrections, and then probably another qualitative sweep for good measure.

And after that?

Well...it should be done.  And I can start soliciting agents.  This, I hope, will be my first traditionally-published novel.

It's been five long years.  But this book deserved that much time and more.  I'm pleased with where it's gone.  It's surprised me.  It's grown up.  And now it's up to me to make it beautiful, and send it out the door.



 
 
Philip J Reed
18 April 2009 @ 07:57 pm
People have pointed out how interesting (for lack of a better term) it is that Mario and Bowser would spend their weekends go-karting together in the spirit of friendly competition.  I remember wondering about the same thing myself when I was a kid.  And as the franchise has grown and Wario, Waluigi, King Boo and other villains joined in, I realized that this must just be the way animosity works in the Mushroom Kingdom.  Once you're off the clock, there's no reason to keep on hatin'.

After all, it probably relieves both parties of a great deal of stress if they don't have to worry about their nemesis barging into their homes at 3 a.m. on a Sunday and slapping the hell out of them.  It's better to channel it through a little sporting event and save the real struggles for when it really counts.

But nobody seems to have mentioned the REAL dark side of Mario Kart.  I'll give you a hint:  it's not the relationship between Mario and Bowser...it's the relationship between Mario and the Princess.

I mean, I think Mario is pretty abusive toward her.  I've been unfair to a lot of the girls I've dated, but I can confidently say that I've never concussed any of them with a turtle shell and watched them roll down the side of a mountain.  And if I did, I'd certainly apologize and hang around to help her back up...I wouldn't speed ahead for the sake of finishing some meaningless race.

And it's true that all of the characters attack each other in this way, knocking them off their motorcycles, throwing bombs at them, shoving them into oncoming traffic...but I can accept it amongst the boys.  You can just kind of chalk it up to being some four-wheelin' Fight Club.  But the fact remains that even if the Princess knew what she was getting into, don't her and Mario still have to make eye-contact over dinner later?  Ramming her off the side of a skyscraper in battle mode may well help Mario keep his precious balloons from popping, but how can he look her in the eye when they go home that night?  Do they carpool?  They might as well, but how awkward would that conversation be on the way home?

It seems strange to me.  And I think it might be wise for the Princess to enlist the help of a relationship counsellor before this gets out of hand.  (As though go-karting with Bowser wasn't already, by definition, out of hand...)

PS--I know you could say the same thing in reverse...how does Mario feel about getting his skull caved in by his shell-weilding girlfriend?  But that's academic...nobody's ever won by racing as the Princess as you know it.
 
 
Philip J Reed
13 April 2009 @ 07:57 am

http://www.cnn.com/2009/SHOWBIZ/Movies/04/10/woody.harrelson.zombie/index.html

"I wrapped a movie called 'Zombieland,' in which I was constantly under assault by zombies, then flew to New York, still very much in character," Harrelson said in a statement issued Friday by his publicist.

"With my daughter at the airport I was startled by a paparazzo, who I quite understandably mistook for a zombie," he said.

Quite understandable indeed!

 
 
 
Philip J Reed
06 April 2009 @ 03:52 pm
A decidedly uncollected blog today, spurred on by a certain strange half-awakening I may or may not have had yesterday.  Enjoy!

Anyway, I read a lot.  (You all...probably know this.)  As a result, I tend to end up with a few dozen interesting phrases working their way into my vocabulary, often without  a clear memory of where they came from.  (Particularly a problem for those who juggle several books at once, as I've been doing recently.)

Within the past few weeks I've used variations on one specific phrase a handful of times...often enough that I took note of it.  The phrase, which was so easily applied in several conversations I've been having recently, was "We are each the architects of our own misfortune."

Once I realized I was using it again and again, I wondered where it had come from.  Yesterday, while getting my credit card out of my wallet to pay for groceries, I happened to see a little slip of paper from a fortune cookie I had eaten God-know-how-long-ago.

This fortune was the source of the phrase.  Okay, fine.  Except, when I read it, it said, "We are each the architects of our own fortune."

Which is essentially the same advice, but with a much different background implication.  It's not particularly embarrassing to me that I would have committed a cookie's sage words to memory, but it's actually kind of frightening to me that my subconscious would have made the fortune/misfortune substitution for me.

I don't know.

I guess that's how you learn things about yourself.  You catch yourself unaware.  You can't go looking for it...you just have to catch yourself in a mirror and notice that the reflection isn't entirely accurate anymore.

Others:

1) Putting together that Venture Bros. video I posted yesterday made me aware of certain patterns in the show that I hadn't noticed before.  It was relatively difficult to find scenes of Dr. Venture and Brock (arguably the main characters) interacting directly.  The show tends to separate the two of them relatively soon into any given episode, and they don't always meet up by the end.  It's stuff like that that you don't really pick up on until you start looking for the exceptions.  I had a larger point to make with this.  But it's gone now.

2) The Bruno trailer doesn't actually look very funny, does it?  Boo.
 
 
 
 
 

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