The Reel Deal and Other Bad Jokes
Sunday, May 30, 2004
"Some of you may die...but that is a sacrifice I am willing to make. "
Last night's quoted movie was Troy. Lots of tragic heroes in that one, I tell ya.
I just got up (4:30 PM), because it's vacation and all. I put on my bathrobe. After a second, I realized...

There was something in the pocket.

Before you preempt me, it not a 14-inch-dildo or similar outrageously humorous evidence of getting drunk and having something done I'd regret in the morning. That would have been noticed long before what was actually in my pocket anyway. What was actually in there had not been noticed for some time, because I didn't remember putting it there.

It was a twenty-dollar bill, y'all. What did I do to deserve such happiness?

Saturday, May 29, 2004
"Immortality! Take it! IT'S YOUR'S!"
Yestrday's quoted movie was Pulp Fiction.
I'm working a show at PS211 right now. Real folk pop stuff. I tried to audioblog it, but I couldn't hear anything, so I don't know which part I recorded. I've only seen one show at this place so far that I actually liked. But they rocked. www.valyumm.net
The footage I shot last night turned out great. Sure, the lamp looked too hot, and it blurred up the picture in spots, but I'll know to avoid that next time. My little brother gave a stellar performance as a hardened gumshoe, cheating at solitaire and downing a shot of vodka (which is transparent, like water).
this is an audio post - click to play

Friday, May 28, 2004
"Oh, I'm sorry. Did I break your concentration? "
Yesterday's quoted movie was Rat Race. It KILLED me, it was so incredibly funny. My little brother almost pissed his pants watching it. "It ees a race! I am weening!" You gotta go rent it. Wayne Knight, John Cleese, Amy Smart, the Mr. Bean guy, Seth Green...talk about your all-star cast. Get it.

Dad just gave me a camera. A cute little FireWire-capable DV camera, with an extra-large battery pack and a wide-angle lens and stuff. Much better than Mom's Betacam, and much better than what I had planned to buy on my budget. Joy. So I gotta get some stuff done.

If you're considering buying a Mac, there are some things you should know (listen up, Yoli). While the Mac is virtually crash-proof, and fast, (we're talking about recent models here), and all of it's software works together seamlessly, and it's quieter than a PC, and it's really sexy-looking (there's a drool tray you can buy) there are some things you should know. Wait, I already said that.

The downsides are--I mean, the downside is--there may be programs that only work with the PC that you cannot install on a Mac, like the aforementioned Produce Panic. The Mac comes with it's own version of the Microsoft Office suite, Apple Works, so you'll have a word processor and something to do spreadsheets on. If you want to do graphics editing of some sort, it's great for that too. In fact it comes with a suite of programs specifially for that--iMovie and iDVD and iPhoto, iBlahblahblahblah. And so on. However, I wouldn't reccomend it as a gaming machine, as the selection of games for the Mac is shit. You've got--Halo and...uhm. I'd have to go look the other three up on the internet (seriously, there are quite a few, you'd be surprised at how many, but nowhere near the number for the PC). That's basically what you need to know if you're planning on getting a Mac.

Oh, yeah--the operating system is a little different. The Dock, for instance. And the taskbar that acts as both start menu and menu for whatever program you're. But that's efficient.
Thursday, May 27, 2004
"I can do whatever I want. I'm eccentric. Grr!"

"I've just decided--I'm going to put a hotel on Park Place."

"You're not even playing!"

"Playing what?"

The movie I'm quoting here will be revealed tomorrow.

I am getting fuck-all done. Mom's Betacam isn't compatible with the Mac (thank God, because it sucks) so I need a DV camera. I think Dad can hook me up.

Anyway, Macintosh computers come preinstalled with two games: Tony Hawk Pro Skater 4 and Deimos Rising. DR is a Space Invaders clone (with good graphics and stuff). Pro Skater is a shitload of fun, and I've been playing a lot, doing missions and stuff. Boy, that's descriptive. You go up to people and get things to do, such as "get 40,000 points in two minutes," and then go do them. I got 37,000 points once. Workin' on it.
Blogger can take their software, burn it to a CD-R, and stick it up their ass.
...Do you know how it feels to have someone tell you to stick a CD-R up your ass?

That was a reference, but not to a movie. I had a post I was working on here and I came back to it and it was GONE, just GONE, fucking GONE, and it annoyed me a little bit, if by "annoyed me a little bit" you mean FUCKING PISSED ME OFF!

Sigh. On the upside, the problems I've been struggling with concerning my Mac Mail client have been fixed. That's right: I gave into my hatred. I used my aggressive feelings. I let the hate flow through me.

I got a G4 iMac. I am now one with the Dark Side.

And DAMN, it feels good. Granted, I'm fucked as far as games go, but I don't buy games anyway. And it's a good platform for my favorite first-person shooter, Halo. I need to invest in a copy. But all I can do is hope they come out with a Mac version of Produce Panic, because it's strictly PC right now.
Wednesday, May 26, 2004
massive errors
The paste messed it up or something. Maybe I'll fix it later.
Tuesday, May 25, 2004
"Greetings from The Humungus! The Lord Humungus! The Warrior of the Wasteland! The Ayatollah of Rock and Rolla!"
The quote is relevant, I'll have you know. I present: The TravelBlog. Little did I know I could have audioblogged over the cell phone until I was already home. Whoops.


Teusday, 4:10 AM 5/11/04

The Utah odyssy is off to an eventful start. I was conversing with a few online friends when I checked the outside drive for the shuttle that was going to take us to the train. I checked and looked again. A limo! Dad doesn't do things small. The ride was a first time experience for all of us. The driver, Flynt, was a genial, easy-going fellow. He was of the opinion that the Amtraks are short trains, which is why they get places fast. Short trains...Anything like the short bus?

The train itelf is hell. It sways and things inside vibrrate and rattle. The seats don’t give good back support at all.
I have found my own private hell.
I’m going to pass out now anyway. We haven’t even reached our first stop yet. Our last stop will be DC, where we will take a nine-hour stopover to see the mueseums and perhaps meet a few muggers. Snore.

Teusday, 9:55 PM 5/11/04

I got approximately two and a haalf hours of sleep. My effort was encumbered by my seat, which was superficially comfortable but ultimately the passive-aggressive version of an Iron Maiden.
We got off the train, put our bags in a holding area, and went off to see The Museum of Natural History. Fun, fun! Interestingly enough, I saaw more hot babes in the “Genealogy and Minerals” exhibit than anywhere else (well, the sidewalk was full of ‘em; it was well up in the 80’s). Maybe it had something to do with all the huge diamonds on display. I suspect the display specimens are fakes though. No use giving a larcenous induvidual ideas. As a side note, I saw some blue caterpillars as long as my finger and about as round. Dad wanted us to go see the exibit at the Museum of American History that had one of his pieces in it, but the exhibit was closed.
As a souvenier of my visit to the Natural History, I bought a 1.5” shark’s tooth. I think I’ll use it as a countering talisman against lawyers.
After much tromping about, we finally got back to the train station (with the help of a cabbie). We boarded a huge double-decker train and I inspected my accomadations. I’ve had larger closets, but it had a reclining seat so I plopped down to rest my weary dogs. After a bit of staring out the window and eating of snack food, I dozed off. I awoke to a dinner call. Pretty good, for a transportation service, and a damn sight better than airplane food. When I came back to my room-no, make that cabin—no, make that berth—I was pleasantly surprised to find the two seats facing each other had been made into a bed, something I hadn’t been able to accomplish. I’m going to take advantage of it now and make up for what I lost.

Wenesday, 3:00 PM 5/12/04

We switched trains in Chicago. We hadd enough time to take a minivan cab out to the local Whole Foods and get some nice healthy snacks. I’m pretty sure I got the snakc with the least amount of health quotient available—yogurt-covered pretzels (a wonderful salt/sweet combo) sugared dried papaya, dried pinapple. Tasty but gas inducing, no doubt.
The train bathrooms are absolute shit (think of the potential vodka ad there). They’re tiny, of course, and they smell. No—actually, they don’t smell. You smell. I smell. These STINK. Dad pointed out another disadvantage as well. When you’re attempting to piss in a small hole a foot wide, sudden lurches are extremely incondusive to your aim.Luckily I chose the correct moment, namely a stop, to use the facilities and thus had to deal only with the smell—a combination of human waste and cleaning agent.
This train apparently has a name: the California Zephyr. Thing is, we’re not going anywhere near California, and I don’t think that the final destination is anywhere in California…maybe somebody just likes California. I don’t know why; people are weird. In any case, they’re very definite about smoking here on the Zephyr. I like how the captain put it: “Please do not jeopardize your ability to continue your journey aboard the California Zephr by smoking.”
Train travel has it’s advantages. You’ve got foot room, a lounge car, a dining car, and if you paid a little more for a sleeper berth, a nice place to sleep. I’m in the lounge car hoping to meet somebody, but as I’m typing away at this blog for future posting I’m not having much luck. Nobody my age anyway, and a low quotient of babes. I’m not talking about infants here.
Then the disadvantages. Besides the bathrooms, there’s the lurching. Let me talk more about the lurching. Well, of course you’re going to let me talk more about it; you the future readership (however many readers I may have, there’s nothing for them to read right now because this ain’t posted yet) are a rather silent member of this particular conversation.
Now, the lurching. Sea legs are required, at least if you want to look cool and walk through the train without leaning on stuff. Since I spent a little time on a small ship, I have sea legs and thus look cool. Of course, I always do. The lurching is tolerable, and you get used to it after a while. It woke me up a few times during the night. The troubling thing is, what causes all this bumping and lurching? Was that great big one in the night some wiseguys throwing bodies in front of the train? …Nah, that wouldn’t have been a big bump at all. Maybe branches across the tracks? I’ve never seen any. Must be irregularities in the machinery translating to the cars. Not comforting. Oh well, we’ve been a few hundred miles and we ain’t crashed yet. Signing off.

Thursday, 1:25 AM 5/13/04

An eventful day. I went back to the lounge car after a bit and met a couple of computer engineers. “Young professionals” as the phrase goes. One of them had a frequency scanner, so he could listen to what the guys on the train were saying. Ooooh, espionage.
I also met an animator. We hit it off—talked for hours. Apparently the only thing he lacks in his personal projects is a writer. That’s a funny thing, because the only thing I lack is an artist. We exchanged e-mail addresses. There was a cute chick that we were talking to, also—she made fun of me a lot. Either I’m just inherently an easy target for comedy, or that means she likes me. I get a lot of chicks making fun of me. I think I’ll go with the second hypothesis.
There was a guy who got kicked off of the train. He was in coach, naturally. He wore a wifebeater, it was probably appropriate, and a yellow shirt. Both were too short for him. I heard later that he was in an argument with somebody outside in the train station. This is evidently what he was referring to when he smacked his fist into his palm so hard his watch came off, I shit you not. That’s not what he was kicked off the train for, though—he got kicked off because of his baggie of coke.

Thursday, 11:25 AM 5/13/04

It should be Fridday right now but because we entered the west coast time zone, we lost an hour. So I’m efficient.
Today was a fucking eternity. It was kind of enjoyable, but it seemed to go on forever. I’ve gotten no work done on the scripts. We should be pulling into Salt Lake City in about twenty minutes. I’ll be glad to be back in a somewhat controlled enviroment. I’ve met some more interesting people, though. Byron and Case, a couple of unique induviduals if there ever were. Father and son, but they met up later in life so they’re more like old buddies. Both have done jail time, for what I don’t know. Probably got drunk and did something stupid, the both of ‘em—they’re party animals. I’ve spent more time talking to Case. He’s a smoker, by which I mean that he smokes, but he also smokes, if you know what I mean. Not so much a pothead, but a smoker. He’ll come out with a bit of profoundity every now and again, but I have yet to discern a point. Nice guy, anyway. Has one of those “colorful backgrounds.”

Friday, 3:00 PM 5/14/04

We’ve debarked the train and regained the SUV. It’s like a piece of home. Still not quite the same, but I feel a bit more in control. Indirectly anyway—I’m not driving, or even in shotgun.
My brother has the absolute worst sense of humor, the sense of humor of a seven-year-old. He doesn’t get jokes, and he doesn’t get puns, the traditional starting point of a young humorist. He absolutely doesn’t grasp the concept—he thinks you can make up knock-knock jokes on the spot.


“There’s nobody home—Ow! Shit, Dad, did you have to kick so hard? –Who’s there?”


“Donkey who?”

“…Donkey you wanna ride me?”

That’s a James joke. Either that, or anything containing the words having to do with human functions and organs. They don’t have to really do anything, they can just be there. Rather like that one painting, “Black Box On White Canvas.”

He’s sort of an abstract humorist.

Monday, 10:00 PM 5/17/04

After an eventful weekend at the Sundance Resort, we’re leaving for home tomorrow morning.

Signing off.

No, really, here’s what we did. First off, we went to the therapist. She seemed to know what she was talking about, but the whole thing kinda creeped me out. She was in a wheelchair because of some nerve damage, and she had a German accent. The really creepy part was that she was a bit heavy on the religion thing. The screensaver on her computer was a series of pastoral scenes with bible quotes. This was annoying. The part that really got my goat was when she said that three or four of Steven Spielburg’s screenwriters had moved to Ohio or some damn thing and were making Christian films because of all the garbage he’s been putting out. This she heard from a screenwriter who had solicited her services and was supposedly one of the defectors—nay, traitors, I say.
OK: What the fuck is a “Christian film?” Does Mel Gibson’s recent flick count? That would probably be the only one I’ve ever seen. What about “Powder?” Seriously, what the fuck qualifies a film as “Christian?” Maybe it has to be arrogant and hypocritical.
“Garbage?” GARBAGE? What garbage? Oh, garbage like “Catch Me If You Can,” and “Minority Report?” Yeah. That Speilburg has really gone down the tubes recently.
Anyway, far as I can tell, she was blowing smoke. Like a lot of religious people I’ve met. Sam excepted.

Now the good stuff. We rode the ski lift up and down the mountain at he Sundance Resort. That was good, clean, pants-shitting fun. The next day my family went horseback-riding while I went down to the deli for a sandwich and some alone time. That afternoon I went mountain biking. This entailed riding the lift up the mountain, grabbing my bike off the next lift, and riding down the mountain. I’ll tell ya, from the lift it looks like a piece of cake but there are lot of goddamn rocks you can’t see. I spent most of my time braking. I never fell off, or flipped over—I just dismounted awkwardly a few times. The next day my sit bones gave me twinges every time I sat down.
Speaking of the next day (which was today—we wasted away a day I think) the men of te family went kayaking. This entailed getting in inflatable tourist watercraft and steering down the Provo River while trying to deal with someone in front who thinks he knows what he’s doing, the little bastard. I had my brother with me. The “kayaks” were self-bailing, which meant that as soon as you sat down in ‘em you received a nice cold dose of mountain water, about like I had to shower with the first morning. I’d come prepared in swim trunks, but my dad was wearing jeans, underwear, thick socks and leather shoes. He got a bit damp.
The kicker was that mom was fifty minutes late picking us up. Dad was very biting when she finally got there, and I had a few things to say as well. I enjoyed getting back into some warmer clothes though.

Friday, 10:30 PM 5/22/04

After a leisurly stop in Sante Fe, New Mexico, we’re heading home tomorrow. And according to Dad, it’s “Bookin’ it” time. That means I’ll get behind the wheel and stare at the road for hours at a time with Mom sitting beside me going “Both hands on the wheel” “slow down” “pass” “speed up”… But no matter. We’re seriously going home. No more of this vacation shit. I could be at home getting stuff done, but instead I’m reduced to window shopping? Torture!

On Sante Fe: there’s lots of adobe in the arcitecture. There’s a fair amount of nice resturaunts. The weather is pleasant. I bought “The Worst Case Scenario Survival Handbook,” a honkin’ big square buffalo-hide wallet that comfortably holds all my one dollar bills, business cards, and assorted bullshit, and a gift for a girl back home. If she doesn’t like it, I like it, so bonus either way I guess. I wasn’t quite sure what she’d like, so I purchased something pretty that I liked. I’d be a bit more specific, but since I put a link to The Reel Deal in my AIM profile, she may know of the existence of the blog already. In any case, it’s a good gift.
On the Southwest in general: The sky is “EE-NOUR-MOUS” as Dad keeps telling people on the phone. What he seems to mean by this is that there’s nothing to obstruct your view of it.

Eh. You get used to it.

What I don’t get used to is how many babes there are in the area. Maybe there are just as many back home, but since I’m out of my element I’m not as confident and I’m therefore more acutely aware of them?

What makes more sense is that there were a lot of them at Sundance because they weere hoping to be in a movie.

What makes even more sense is that I’m merely starved of female attention. How pathetic. How possible.

Perfect movie idea: a group of friends are holed up in the basement of a suburban house, consuming junk food, playing video games, and cursing each other (“Oh, you little sniper BITCH! You’re gonna pay. …HAH! Eat my motherfuckin’ rocket!” etc). Then the power goes out. Of course it’s nighttime. They decide to go for a walk in the neighborhood. There they begin having encounters with soome characters we all know and love: Frankenstein, Dracula, zombies, the creature from the black lagoon, the Mummy, and others—or at least their descendents. The monster kids are of the opinion that suburbia is the area to terrorize, since suburban monsters like Freddy Kruger, Jason, and people in cheap halloween masks are all the rage now. The protaginists help the monsters solve their problem and all is well, but not before some comedy, of course. “Pardon, can you direct me to Elm Street?”

It’s perfect because it could take placce in an hour-long time span, it has comedic potential, the costumes wouldn’t be hard to do, the location would be easy, and the lighting would be easy and fun as well. Not necessarily the epitome of everything a film should be, merely the perfect movie idea for my purposes. Should be pretty good though.

Testing, testing, 1, 2, 3
this is an audio post - click to play

Monday, May 10, 2004
"It's an unlicensed boxing match. It's not a tickling competition. These lads are out to hurt each other."

Well, I never claimed I would always reference the movie in that ridiculously easy "sustitute the word 'title' for every key word" format, did you?

If it'll help you any more...

"I fail to recognize the correlation between "losing 10K", "hospitalizing Gorgeous" and "a good deal."--same movie referenced above.

I'm out of school. I'm pretty happy about it.

I also took the Camera/Lighting final exam today. I think I did pretty good. I'm tryin' to get together some of the lads so we can watch all the footage we shot this year. I'm not havin' that much luck.

Sunday, May 09, 2004
How about a little contest? The person who can name the most movies that I reference in my post titles gets a small prize, say, a little poem or limerick dedicated to them. I know they've been easy so far, but upcoming titles will stretch the limits of your knowlege. I'll reference old movies, new movies, obscure indie movies, and movies that won't come out for years yet. I'll do my best not to do any double references--"The Last Title" could be any number of movies, for example. In exchange, please use only what you know already. No IMDB, no Googling! That takes all the fun out of it.

The contest begins now. Since I get back at the end of May (update on that: I don't think my friend will be able to do it, so I may be silent for the duration) the contest will end June 30th.
Lock, Stock, and Two Smoking Titles
I'd say I had a hot date today, but that wouldn't be correct; it is technically tomorrow. Therefore, I had a hot date yesterday.

My position on dating has always been "Be patient; you're bound to meet somebody." Somebody in this case meaning "Attractive, intelliegent, shares a few of my interests, laughs at my stupid jokes, is single." That last one seems to be the biggest problem. My motto didn't stop me from pursuing a few anyway, some apathetically, some persistently (it was a hobby of mine to try and come up with new come-ons every time I talked to one girl, for years. It was funny. In a sad way).

I could go on, but suffice it to say I met somebody who meets that description. What can I say? That's what I'm asking myself. I mean, considering I might give her the blog address and then she'll read what I've written here. A conundrum.

In a nutshell, I'm looking forward to seeing her again. Not least because I've forgotten what she looks like (I vaguely recall a great smile and a cute hairdo). I rather enjoy it though, it's kind of like I'm meeting her for the first time every time I see her. Interestingly enough, I'm remembering and then forgetting right now it's the strangest thing. I recall--got it! ...Gone.

Anyway, there's a little info on my social life for ya.

Everybody on the internet needs to read this.

Maybe someday we can make language a complete impediment to understanding. A great little translation app.

Testing...testing...1 pWN y0U, 1 W1LL h4xOR J00r B0xXOr! PhUCK1N' nOoB!

Translation? "I live in my parent's basement and have never kissed a girl." Yeah, it's a tough dialect.

I've seen a lot of trailers for romantic comedies and romances and so on in the past month. I want to see most of them, despite myself. It's time to face facts: I ain't nothin' but a sap. Kind of depressing.

Well, OK, not that depressing really.
Friday, May 07, 2004
Title Fiction
Final class of Art Department Operations today. We turned in our projects and then we all went to breakfast together--all four of us, that's including the teacher. I love small classes.

I watched a movie called "The Cooler" recently. Nice camerawork, especially in the finale, and good lighting (it does its job). The story is excellent, nice and complicated just the way I like 'em. The acting performances here are mezmerizing, they just draw you in and make you care. Very deep and substantial characters also.

To give you a taste: William H. Macy plays the unluckiest man ever. His contract with the wiseguy casino owner (Alec Baldwin) is up in a week. When it's up, he's out. But a beautiful (and I mean beautiful) cocktail waitress comes into the picture and things get a little complicated. Alec does a great job with his character. The guy may break bones and manipulate people, but he does have some sort of honor. That guy from "Office Space" does a nice job playing a little prick of a wiseguy, too.

If you like good movies, this is one you absolutely cannot miss. Would I lie to you?

Well, yeah, but watch it anyway.

I recieved a chain letter recently. What struck me was that I almost fell for it. But I did a quick bit of research and debunked it easily. Here's my reply:


I called the numbers contained in the e-mail. They don't work. Intel and
Microsoft may have trade agreements, but they are not the same company.
Same goes for Intel and AOL. What's more, none of these could companies
would afford these kind of expenditures, nor could they actually track the

Quote: " America Online responded by denouncing the warning as a hoax and
declaring that email tracking as described in the message is "impossible."

The sites I quoted:

"Technological barriers aside, if anyone could afford the computing power to
track chain letters, it would be companies like Microsoft or Disney. But why
would they want to? The circulation of a chain letter is unpredictable and
unstoppable. It grows at a logarithmic rate. For example, say I launch a
chain letter by sending it to 10 people, who each forward it to 10 more
people within a day of receiving it, as does every subsequent recipient.
Here's the number of mailings I'd have to track and record in just eight

Day 1: 100
Day 2: 1,000
Day 3: 10,000
Day 4: 100,000
Day 5: 1,000,000
Day 6: 10,000,000
Day 7: 100,000,000
Day 8: 1,000,000,000
Total: 1,111,111,110
Yep, that's over a billion mailings — over a billion email addresses to
retrieve, sort, and store in just over a week. And then there's the cash
pay-outs to contend with! Mind you, no one chain letter can possibly achieve
such a circulation, given that it's larger than the entire Internet
population at present, but the numbers demonstrate that the tracking of any
reasonably successful chain letter presents logistical headaches that far
outweigh any possible benefits to the companies allegedly involved."

and the BIG IMPORTANT QUOTE, notice how it's almost word-for-word the same
as the one you sent me (the link to back it up:

"Another widespread variant of the hoax:

Subject: FW: PLEEEEEASE READ!!!!! It was on the news!

I'm an attorney, and I know the law. This thing is for real.
Rest assured
AOL and Intel will follow through with their promises for fear of
facing a multimillion dollar class action suit similar to the one
filed by PepsiCo against General Electric not too long ago.

Dear Friends,
Please do not take this for a junk letter. Bill Gates is sharing his
fortune. If you ignore this you will repent later. Microsoft and AOL
are now the largest Internet companies and in an effort to make sure
that Internet Explorer remains the most widely used program, Microsoft
and AOL are running an e-mail beta test. When you forward this e-mail
to friends, Microsoft can and will track it (if you are a Microsoft
Windows user) for a two week time period. For every person that you
forward this e-mail to, Microsoft will pay you $245.00, for every
person that you sent it to that forwards it on, Microsoft will pay you
$243.00 and for every third person that receives it, you will be paid
$241.00. Within two weeks, Microsoft will contact you for your
address and then send you a cheque. Regards.
I thought this was a scam myself, but two weeks after receiving this
e-mail and forwarding it on, Microsoft contacted me for my address and
within days, I received a cheque for US$24,800.00. You need to
respond before the beta testing is over. If anyone can afford this
Bill Gates is the man. It's all marketing expense to him. Please
forward this to as many people as possible. You are bound to get at
least US$10,000.00. We're not going to help them out with their
e-mail beta test without getting a little something for our time. My
brother's girlfriend got in on this a few months ago. When I went to
visit him for the Baylor/UT game. She showed me her check. It was
for the sum of $4,324.44 and was stamped "Paid In Full". Like I said
before, I know the law, and this is for real. Try it, what have you
got to lose????

This is a complete hoax. There is no way to track e-mail like this. Do not
forward the message."

An essay by Bill Gates himself on the subject:

So think about it next time, please?

--Justin Kuhn

The Reel Deal and Other Bad Jokes.
Exclusive behind-the-scenes film school material.
Includes extra features available only at the Reel Deal.
Visit at http://reelbadjokes.com


Yeah, I have my blog in my sig alright. If you want to check those URLs out, feel free to paste 'em into your address bar, they'll work. Sorry, I don't feel like linking them. ...These spam things just annoy me immensely.
Thursday, May 06, 2004
Indiana Title and the Last Title
The last title...? Does this mean the end of the goofy movie references?

Hey. Does my body look dead to you?

I took a final today. Aced it. Got an A in the class (Grip & Electric, my favorite). Remember the class I dropped? Well, I didn't actually drop it, nor was I in time to drop it without penalty. I found this out Wenesday night, when the teacher took me out in the hall and informed me of the situation after I'd asked if she'd gotten my e-mails. Apparently the best option was to take the tests, give it my best shot, and see how it would turn out.

Well, I got my last quiz back with the final grade for the entire class on the back page. I looked on the back page. I saw some numbers, but none that seemed relevant to my situation. I walked over to Mrs. Fisher.

"I assume you didn't put my grade on the last page because I need to stay until ten and work on my web site."

"No, I put your grade on there."

"What...?" I looked at the last page. A number was circled. "This 92.75 is my grade?"


Outside, talking with a friend I'd made in the class, I remained incredulous. He told me that she'd told him that the websites (which I'd spent many a night procrastinating over into the wee hours, and of which I had approximately nothing) were not being graded. Well, DAMN!

About every ten minutes in the conversation, I'd erupt with a "Ninety-two point fucking SEVENTY-FIVE!"
Wednesday, May 05, 2004
Indiana Title and the Title of Doom
May I present to you, ladies and gentlemen, the Final Installment of "Nobody's Fool"

I leaned forward. "I'll tell you what, Nobody's Fool: you get out of town, tonight, and I don't throw your hairy ass into a cell. I can almost guarantee you'd meet some friends from the Fox."
"Do I get to keep the take?"
"A portion."
"I knew it was too good to be free," the dwarf grumbled. He opened his pouch and showed us the contents. A fair haul, but could have been better. More silver than gold. He handed each of us a large piece of his money pie.
"Can I go now?"
"Get outta here. And if we see you again later, you don't know us as anything but faces in the crowd."
He darted out the door. He made a surprisingly little amount of noise. He must have mastered the trick where you make people's belongings disappear from their homes at some point in his career.
Both Kahnrad and I put our profits from the evening in our money pouches. That is, we tried to; where our pouches had formerly hung, there were only leather straps. The only thing that broke the ensuing silence was the fading sound of the dwarf's mocking laughter.

And that wraps it up for this particular story.

I had the final today in Grip & Electric. It basically entailed making a shitload of lists and such. I aced it, nailed the practical also (What's wrong with this light? Yeah? OK, correct it).

I am soooo hungry, but Mom is making me food in exchange for me typing up a flier for her guitar orchestra performance. I typed up her flier a whole hell of a lot faster than she's making my food, let me tell you.

Tuesday, May 04, 2004
(This is reaching, I know) Indiana Title and the Raiders of the Lost Title
Installment 11 of "Nobody's Fool"

The dwarf swallowed. "Phule. Nemo Phule." Kahnrad raised an eyebrow. He stood behind Nemo.
"You're a Clanless One?" he asked.
Nemo lowered his head. "Yes. I am cast out." Kahnrad himself was outcast, or presumably so. Deserters such as him and I were rarely welcomed back to our respective cultures.
Phule, meaning, literally, "fool," was the clan name a dwarf took when cast out. There was some sort of formal ceremony, and I gather Kahnrad never had one, which is why he still uses his clan name. Maybe they're waiting for him to come back so they can kick him out.
Nemo signifies "nobody." Evidently what this dwarf had done made him reluctant to let even his first name be bandied about.

Had the final on the most boring film class ever. I think I passed. If I have to take that shit again....

Also, There is a small chance I'll have to pay the damages on my car. Probably not, but if I do things will really suck.

Update on the Utah trip: We're going to Sundance. There will be hiking, and...hiking. Sightseeing as well, apparently. On the train, I'll have a room to myself. Hopefully this will keep me from killing anybody. Maybe I'll meet somebody interesting on the train around my age.

Sombody female.

Monday, May 03, 2004
Titles in Black
Sorry for the no post on Sunday. Here is Installment 10 of "Nobody's Fool"

"But that's nothing to what they do to unlicensed pickpockets. Those they string up by the fingers. They cut off your nose and brand your face. Oh, and you'll get a few from the cat."
"Who is they?"
"I'll tell you...'they' are the bump in the night. The creak on the stair. The voice in the dark. The chill in your blood, the cold breeze that raises those hairs on the back of your neck."
"Oh, I wouldn't want to meet them, then?"
"I don't think so. But I'll tell you something else. While 'they' never formally introduced themselves to me, 'they' were not happy when I introduced myself to 'them'. Because, sooner or later...everybody need certain things explained. I've found I have a talent for that."
The dwarf's eyes widened. I leaned forward and gave him a friendly smile.
"So. Why don't you tell Uncle Mace your name?" I'm known as "The Maceman" or simply "The Mace" in Kronston because of the huge spiked hammer I carry.

I seem to be in a dry period. Oh well...stream of consciousness. Camera and lighting today was fucking boring, I mean mind-numbing. There was a quiz and a review for the exam next week. Bleh.

You wanna see a good movie? Check out "Intolerable Cruelty." The photography is GREAT, and of course Catherine Zeta-Jones is hot. I especially liked the scene where the two lawyers were sneaking around carrying mace in the dark house made blue by moonlight (OK, by some HMIs, if you must know). The results were hilarious and predictable. Freddy Bender's actions at the end of the movie constitute some of the best comedy in the film. The head lawyer of the firm (or "foim" as he says) is brilliantly lit as well.

After seeing this movie for the second time, I have to admit that the plot isn't that complicated, and what really makes the movie good is the lighting. Of course, the characters and dialogue help. The script is really quite good. Just not hard to predict, evidently (Mom tried to ruin the movie by predicting everything that was going to happen--and being RIGHT, damn it!).
Saturday, May 01, 2004
Title Wars: The Return of the Title
Installment 9 of "Nobody's Fool"

They roared past our alley. Some ran down it but they missed the fool. I had already snatched him off his feet and ran around back and into the Dirtwater again. I set him down, and Kahnrad frog-marched him into the back room.
I shut the door and leaned against it. The fool looked apprehensive.
"Do you know what they do to people like you in these parts?" I asked, inspecting my nails.
"The same thing they do in any other dive in any other mountain town, I expect," the dwarf said.
"Pretty much. Did you see the guy behind the bar?"
"Looks like one of those ugly little dogs with squashed faces that rich society ladies have?"
"That's the one. He's Mallet O'Malley. He'll drown you in a street puddle and nail your beard and scalp to the wall like a hunting trophy."
The fool flinched. I made a note to use that story again sometime. It got good results.

I have got nothing done today. At all.

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