Awesome Russian Video

This video is beyond explanation. The title loosely translates as, "I'm very happy you see, finally I'm returning home."

I thought this was the title of the song. Perhaps it is. This gentleman was not informed though. Unless this is just some sort of interpretive piece. I have a theory that he is gesturing at an "Iron Curtain" with love. Also that he may be under the influence of some of that psychic science they were working on over there.

Why bother talking about this. Watch the video. Your life will instantly improve.

I live on a trafficked enough street. This morning I walked to the kitchen to indulge in a weakness and realized my purified water was in the car. Ask Alton Brown, if you love your coffee, you won't taint it with your tap water. I'm in my robe. But I figure, if the thing you are going for in your robe, is something necessary to start your morning, you shouldn't be required to get dressed. Maybe I worry too much. People in the 50's were always out in the lawn in their robe. But it seems now, or I just get the feeling, that someone would find it offensive. My drab, ill shaped, bleach-spotted robe. But like I said, I was going for something needed for my morning ritual.

When I stepped out on the stoop, I smelled, what was it, Life? I smelled life. Before I can see spring, I can smell it. And my friends, it is on the horizon, so close.

Water Pod

I would like to design a Snuggie that holds water.

Who can afford a jacuzzi or their own pool? Who doesn't want a personal hot tub? A bathtub loses its temperature so quickly. Right as you start to slip into a consciousness not experienced since you were in utero, the temperature starts to drop. The time spent on filling the bathtub with hot water is roughly twice the amount of time you get to enjoy it. A shower holds its temperature, but how relaxed can you be while standing? I've been tempted to sit in a shower, but I know what comes off my feet in the shower, and I don't feel like sharing that with my butt.

Sometimes on a hot day, I'll go to wash my hands and find myself closing my eyes and pretending I'm in a cool, placid lake...until my fingers start to wrinkle.

So let's make a personal water pod. It would probably resemble more of a sack than an actual snuggie. It would have a temperature control. Just imagine sitting down to watch Drag Race in your own personal hot tub. Or maybe its hot outside, and you'd like to cool down, but who wants to drag their whale carcass to the public pool to splash around in children's urine? Just jump in your water pod!

If you've got some connections to get this thing going, let me know. In the meantime, I'm gonna go have a shower.

A dive into a bus.

Someone asked me recently, why, if I was so depressed there, would I want to go back to Russia.

I think he was referring to my stating that I would have never made it through that time without my mp3 player. We had been watching Long Way Round, and I had commented that I don't know how they could have survived such an undertaking without music.

I explained to him, it wasn't a matter of depression. It was a matter of surviving in a new culture I was having difficulty coping with. A culture of seemingly complete disregard for your neighbor. (I say "seemingly", because I don't feel I spent enough time there to make a blanket statement.) By biggest tribulation, through my entire time in Russia, was transportation.

Transportation itself fascinates me. I love to take local transportation everywhere I go, every form of it. I like cars, buses, trains, boats...camels, elephants...you get the idea. I like learning the proper etiquette for hailing a taxi or a bus. Or for haggling for a ride on a back of a moped or a hitch-hike in foreign SUV.

I detest transportation in Russia. First of all, in a new land, you rely on the kindness of strangers to get yourself on the right bus. Don't expect to find any of that in this land. I can remember every single incident of a transportation worker being nice to me in the six months I was there. Even if I forgot a few, I would still have about 5 experiences of niceness. I think I've mentioned that some of us joked about making awards to give out to people being nice. It wouldn't have cost much.

So you have the issue of zero information, and zero help finding this information. Let's say though, you know the bus you want to get on and where to find this bus. You know what, let me just describe my daily routine:

In the dark, inevitably in the wet, I trudged to the bus stop. There is a crowd of people, but not too overwhelming. Until the bus comes. And then it seems that people come out of nowhere, climbing out of the sewer, materializing out of some sort of Soviet portal whose technology died with Stalin. It's unbelievable. And you'd be surprised, how many little old ladies are desperate to get somewhere at 7am. I tried to be civilized. I tried to wait in line. Who wants to start the morning off punching an old lady? Let me tell you what being civilized got me - waiting and missing the next 3 buses. In the event that I got on one of the smaller buses, after pushing my way onto one, I then had to hunch over at the waist, as it was really just a mini-van, and stand like that for the next 40 minutes. Or perhaps punch someone else for a seat. From this hunched position, I now became part of the money passing. Bus fares are passed up from the back and tickets and change returned (unless you are in Ukraine, where you pay when you get off the bus, hey Russia, how bout that?). While unconcerned for the welfare of their neighbor, excuse me, seemingly unconcerned, they seem terribly concerned for people trying to cheat the system. No one doesn't pay. I watched. I got by with it on the big buses, but not on a mini-bus. In the midst of this crush of wet, irritable people, you have to yell up to the driver where you want to get off. I of course prayed someone else would need the same stop and do it first. Otherwise, I risk sounding like an idiot and yelling something like, "Fish Fry on a See-Saw Please!"

So I needed my mp3 player, and I dare say, don't forget yours if you choose to venture to the Great White Planet.

Dream

So I'm talking to this little boy at a baseball game. He's super cute and we're getting along famously as I do with little kids sometimes. He then let's slip that his uncle is Barack Obama and he is in the stadium somewhere. He likes me so much he calls him to come sit with us. So Obama and I start to converse. And then we're speaking in French, and then he says, "How's your Greek?" And I say I don't know any, so we switch to English.

Cut to a dark street. I have the hands of about 4 small children now and we're afraid. We walk to a warehouse. Inside we meet a new person. This person puts on some sort of glasses that allow them to see the near future of people (think the camera episode of the Twilight Zone). Now I am able to see from their point of view (my dreams often switch perspective). I look around and everyone looks fine. Then there is a flash around one of the kids, he turns black and white and has a terrified look on his face. We pan to me, same thing but a graphic vision of my death. I've seen enough.

So we continue walking down a dark street. And I look down, and Obama's nephew is gone. He had been holding my hand, but now the other 3 kids are there and one of them is holding my hand. I look behind me and Obama is walking up to me with 4 other children. I tell him that I've lost his nephew and he looks concerned, but as if he expected it. Clearly he's been briefed on a situation that I have not been privy to. As we walk another disappears. I come to realize that something supernatural is afoot and it's stealing children. We come to the end of this alley and there is a huge group of menacing looking adults standing near a loading dock. Now realizing not only are these the ones responsible for the disappearances, but some of these adults bear a striking resemblance to children we've lost. I understand that these adults are in fact spectral beings. The children are disappearing, aging and becoming part of this spectral army. Then one steps forward and with a snide look, asks Obama, "What are you going to do about her?" And as he says this, I see someone walking down the loading dock. Because of the angle, I can only see from the neck down. But I realize immediately, it's me. And he says, "I didn't bring this knife for no reason." And pulls out a machete, and then I wake up.

Avatar

Avatar.

This movie is absolutely a visually stunning movie.

Unfortunately, the praise ends there. Had my ticket not been gifted to me, I might have asked for my money back. Avatar is the singularly worst big budget popular film I have been subjected to view. The first and most obvious annoyance being, they spent all this money to write a new language, develop new peoples, yet they used Papyrus font for the subtitles.

While discussing the film, one associate quipped, "It's like Ferngully in 3-d". I must add, however, that this associate liked Avatar. I'll also point out here, that 3-d loses it's interest after about 5 minutes. To appreciate it, you have to continually take your glasses off and desensitize yourself.

The acting was mostly atrocious. I spent most of my time trying to determine the ethnicity of the actors portraying the blue cat people. For no other reason than to test my ability to recognize variations in patterns even through computerized makeup.

The acting was basically on par with an episode of Battlestar Galactica. The plot however, well, that was on par with a b-movie from the 70's. Though I'm not sure I want to be that kind. The first action sequence is stolen right from Jurassic Park.

If you could think of the most generic plot about invading an otherwise peaceful people, throw in some love, and then...oh wait, don't bother thinking, Pocahontas was a true story.

Which brings me to the fact that this was basically a cheap propaganda film. Part of me wants to say, "Well, the message needs to be brought to the idiots that are attracted to shiny, colorful, aliens in 3-d". Because I do believe we should pay more attention to what nature has to tell us, and that, hey, maybe we shouldn't rape and pillage third world countries just because we can! But does this make an entertaining movie? Surely not. Especially if you're already on their side, especially if you have a higher standard for dialogue, especially if you aren't amused by the kind of drivel an imaginative 4th grader could spout out during story time.

A short tour through the charred and studded heart of Asheville.

Asheville has a real way of making you feel inadequate. I just wanted to peruse the shops on Lexington, but I left with such a complex. Like there is no way that I could learn the correct way to wear pants tight enough to make eunuchs cry. How exactly does one spend 45 minutes on their hair and manage to make it look like they woke up behind a garbage dumpster....a garbage dumpster full of chic! They seem to have the coolest of social lives. House parties in abandoned houses. Warehouse parties...in abandoned warehouses. They don't really have to worry about taking up a stance on anything, the anti-trend will become known to them eventually and as soon as it's saturated they just have to be one of the first ones to go back to the trend. I imagine there's a large population of meat-eating republican gutter punks in Asheville right about now. Well, with my self image shattered I wandered up to the southern end of Lexington, where the shops are still kinda cute but run by middle aged people who've lived their fads and are content to actually have a cause and then host a potluck for it. Surprise, I actually bought something there. Without the pressure of not living up to the staff's standards, or maybe it was just that I didn't feel like paying 30 dollars for a plastic bag or 60 dollars for a necklace made out of tin cans and the souls of supposed greedheads, I was able to make a peaceful purchase.

I made my way over to Chai Pani near the Grove Arcade. Admittedly, I've never been to India, and as far as I'm concerned Indian food is curry, masala, paneer, etc. The things you can get on the buffet and that make up every standard menu I've seen in about 12 countries. Chai Pani has a menu full of things I've never heard of, apparently real Indian street food. In an effort to be less hoighty-toighty, Chai Pani has made itself basically a hipster lunch stop with zero atmosphere.

Additionally, every other item says it contains cilantro. Even when I ordered an item that did not mention cilantro, it came with cilantro chutney and a liberal covering of cilantro. This is not ok. This is gross negligence. This is not an ingredient you can just shove aside. It permeates every aspect of your meal. Now, to be fair, the guy behind the bar where I had chosen to sit, took it back and had them remake it without my even having to ask. He was well chatty. Nice sort of chap. But it didn't take long to realize he was still one of those Asheville holier-than-thous, just not in uniform. For one thing, I mention to him that Hendersonville is about to get a Middle Eastern cafe. (DID YOU HEAR THAT?!?! I'm so excited it's not even funny.) I mention that I've been looking for a place to get falafel, and he says he's interested in their hummus. He goes on to explain the various ways that hummus variants have failed him before. He finishes with, "I'm looking for a deft hand." I had to ask him to repeat that. Jesus man, it's just ground chickpeas. A deft hand? Your deft hand dumped a way more than a dash of salt in my "Indian lemonade" and it tastes like, well, you can imagine I'm sure. And shortly before I leave, I hear him mutter, not so quietly, "Amateur hour."

Give me a freaking break.

Ripping Guilt

I find the Saw series disgusting. I find people who enjoy the saw series disgusting.

I've had a thing for Jack the Ripper for as long as I can remember. I find myself watching documentaries on other serial killers. I don't go out of my way mind you, but I'll definitely watch it if I catch it. What is the explanation for this seemingly outright hypocrisy?

I'm gonna go with Catholic guilt.

Logan's Run

This is a stupid reason to log on but I'm compelled.

Logan's Run. No J, it is not about a long distance runner....for the 4th time.

Someone suggested I see this movie. Probably when I was watching Omega Man, which except for Charlton Heston's need to perpetually overact, is pretty good (though no competition for Soylent Green).

This is another film quite obviously inspired by We, a Russian novel by Evgeny Zamyatin. Odd that. Even Orwell and Huxley have admitted being inspired by this book. A book not available to Russians until some 20 years later.

This movie has quite possibly the worst special effects in history. Prime food for MST3K. The guns "shoot" magnesium, so a nice green explosion occurs every time they awkwardly discharge their guns. They are all terrible shots. And you can see the devices on the ground where the laser guns supposedly "hit". I can't go into all the absolutely terrible special effects.

The costumes though, well the girls anyway, are hot in a Space Babe sort of way. In fact there a lot of great costume ideas if anybody would ever actually get your reference. The men on the other hand, are pretty much dressed as the ambiguously gay duo.

However, maybe halfway to three-quarters through the movie, they reach this old man character who is a downright pleasure to watch. His simple yet predictably wise lines are beautifully entertaining.

So what am I saying. This movie is rough to get through if you think you're getting a quality classic. But it may be worth checking out for a good laugh and a genuine quality second half.

Climate changing zombies

My mother just sent me a text asking for my address. Sent. Then clarified that she meant physical. Sent. I thought I was getting a present. Then she wants to clarify my social security number. Fearing she is using me as a tax shelter, I ask what she's doing. She says she's making me the beneficiary of my siblings' college funds. I reply, shouldn't that be guardian? She says, it's in case she and five siblings all die.

I reply, "I imagine if that occurred, it would be the apocalypse so I'll need that money to buy zombie fighting things" She replies, yes, and something about the Climate Change meetings in Copenhagen. Perhaps she has become concerned that climate change isn't actually a bunch of malarkey and maybe she should pay attention? But it still leaves me to wonder, does she think I have super human powers and will survive when they all die? Was my father secretly Superman or Richard Branson?