He got a bigger boat

Like a lot of people, I was sad to hear Roy Scheider died yesterday after fighting multiple myeloma — a type of blood cancer — for the past three years. His death was kind of a surprise to me, because I hadn't heard anything about him being sick and I had no idea he was 75.

I'm pretty sure he still could've kicked my ass.

Thanks, of course, to Jaws, Scheider was one of my favorite actors, even if he wouldn't have come immediately to mind if anyone had asked. But looking at his filmography I realized that he was not only an actor I was always glad to see on-screen, he was also in a lot of movies I really, really enjoy.

Jaws might've been where I first saw Scheider, but I also thought he was great in the underappreciated 2010. And I tend to hate all those '70s-era "I'm-a-performer-and-I'm-gonna-make-it!" movies, but I'll give All That Jazz a break due to Scheider's intense turn as a Broadway choreographer. He was in a ton of other movies, some good (The French Connection, Marathon Man) and some not as good (Dracula II, anyone?), but he never just phoned it in.

Just recently me and Lopez were watching Law & Order: CI and up popped Scheider and holy crap was he creepy! Seriously, he freaked us out, and he did it with this small, quietly menacing bit of acting on what is now basically a cable cop show. It made us appreciate him as an actor all over again.

I'd guess that one of the cable movie channels is going to have some sort of Scheider retrospective, which means poor Lopez is going to have to sit through yet another viewing of Jaws, and probably 2010, too. If we're lucky, someone will dig out Blue Thunder.

Photo nabbed from The Shark Is Still Working

Some random thoughts

• Like a big, hairy baby, a lack of sleep makes me cranky.

• So the national economy is collapsing under its own weight, so badly people are finally beginning to at least whisper the word "recession" out loud. It's going to get worse before it gets better, the average citizen is going to suffer the brunt of the downturn, and the government and banking industry are still trying to act like they're trying to save a burning building even though they provided the matches and oily rags. And I'm wondering if there's an accidental silver lining in all this: Before the economy became the Big News (what do you mean people are dying in Iraq? Afghanistan who?), there was a disturbing rise in Administration rhetoric about Iran. Sabres were rattling and experts were actually coming out and saying, desperately, "No! Bad!" but it didn't look as if anyone was listening. Now the Administration is forced to pay attention to something else. Here's my question: Did the failing economy save us from war with Iran?

(At least temporarily. I'd predict that as soon as the economy improves, or at least stabilizes, we'll be hearing more about how scared we're supposed to be of people who speak Persian. It'll be a non-starter, but still — the Administration's nuts.)

• I've got some really good friends, and I feel very lucky about that.

• That Tribeca coffee at Einstein Bagels? That's pretty good stuff right there.

• My wife is also awesome.

• I just found out that this blog is the first result if you Google "worst soup flavors."

• I haven't gamed (RPG) in something like two months. Why have the 12 Gods forsaken me? Why?!?

• If I could, I would totally grow a big ol' handlebar mustache.

Chili today, hot tamale

Every now and then I get a craving for something I can only get in El Paso. I don't know if it's because of the cold weather, a hankerin' for cheap beef and grease, or what, but I just got hit with a major craving for a bowl of chili from Big Bun.

Does Big Bun even still exist, El Paso people? If anyone has had the chili recently — or even better, if someone actually goes and has some today — and sends me an obscenely graphic description of the experience, I will both love and hate you forever.


Photo swiped from Mattie & Den's Flickr site

Also, I totally stole this posts' title from Christy.

I hate memes ... but try this one

You might not have noticed, but me and Lopez! tend to avoid all that meme, quizes, "tag-you're-it" bullshit, but I couldn't resist it this time. This was fun and let me flex some creative muscles I don't get to use all that often. It's not the sort of thing that you can just click your way through, which was something else I liked about it.

OK, so here's what you do:

1. Go to Wikipedia and hit "random." The first random Wikipedia article you get is the name of your band.

http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Special:Random


2 - Go to random quotations: The last four words of the very last quote of the page is the title of your first album.

http://www.quotationspage.com/random.php3


3 - Go to Flickr and click on "Explore the last seven days." Go to the third picture in the queue and, no matter what it is, it will be the image for your album cover. I'm guessing you guys know how to grab images from the Web.

http://www.flickr.com/explore/interesting/7days/


4 - Use Photoshop or something similar to put it all together.

I'd really like to see what you guys come up with so if you end up making one, drop a link in the comments so you can share with the class.

For my contribution, I like to think Gøncruszka is a jangly Euronoise band from somewhere in Finland or Norway, with traces of its early black metal days slipping in now and then on the album To Attack Our Civilization.

Reading is fundamental

So, Lopez! flew out of Austin early this morning on her way to Mexico City and the start of a week-long visit with family. The trip was a last-minute sort of thing so I wasn't able to go along, which if you know us is an almost unheard of splitting of the atom.

Everyone keeps telling me I'm "a bachelor for a week!" and basically saying I get to indulge in all my guilty pleasures without having to lobby for it or, at the least, getting the stink-eye for ordering the bacon burger. But honestly? When this sort of thing does happen, all I wind up doing is pouting like a kid because my best friend isn't around, and moping around the house talking to the cats waaaaay too much. And I watch TV and read a lot.

With that in mind, I made a trip to the library to pick up some supplies, including:

The Midnight Choir (an Irish crime novel)

Yojimbo (Kurosawa movie I've seen in bits and pieces, but never from start to finish)

The Kindaichi Case Files Vol. 5 (manga I keep hearing is good)

Stardust (illustrated prose I've never gotten around to reading)

Phonogram Vol. 1 (read the first issue, dropped it, and now I keep hearing how great it's supposed to be — we'll see)

I might just be doing what the pleasantly plump do when they show up to a buffet depressed, grabbing anything that looks half-interesting and cramming it in (my brain — honest!). Because I've already got a couple of library books I'm reading, The Brief Wondrous Life of Oscar Wao and Imperial Life in the Emerald City.

Yikes. If I start getting all my meals delivered, I might be in trouble ... maybe I'll go to a buffet ...

Cutting the cheese: In which I make a completely sexist observation

Why can't most women cut it?

Wait — let me amend that. Why can't any of the women I know slice?

Specifically, I'm talking about cutting and slicing of the deli persuasion, and I'm basing this on these completely baseless observations: My mom is notorious for literally hacking at blocks of cheese as if she were really lactose intolerant; my wife, Lopez!, cuts at a slant no matter how hard she tries; and every time I go to get some meat and cheese at my office common area after a female co-worker, it looks like a murder scene.

Lemme 'splain that last part. The company I work for deals with a lot of outside vendors, independent companies and service providers that help produce our end product. So, during the holiday season they tend to send us stuff in appreciation of the working relationship we share.

In other words, we get sent a lot of free stuff, most of which you can eat.

I'm new to this department, but since it works most heavily with vendors its' end-of-year booty is legendary. Tins of cookies and popcorn, smoked sausages and cheeses, even smoked salmon and whole spiral-cut hams find their way to the office. It's like heaven, and God is the head manager at a really good Hickory Farms.

Today we received a couple of sausages and blocks of cheese, and that's when I noticed that — like my wife, mom, grandmother and sister — the women I work with apparently don't slice straight, either.

Whuh? Is it because the whole turkey-carving, a-dull-knife-is-more-dangerous, Jim-Bowie-died-fighting-with-a-knife-named-after-himself thing is one of those macho rites of passage passed down from father to son? This theory, of course, doesn't include women who are professional cutters like butchers, surgeons and that girl who tore my heart out in fifth grade. I'm talking about the average woman who seems to leave a ragged trail of destruction and mutilated foodstuffs at cutting boards everywhere.

Of course, I've seen plenty of men who wield a knife as if it were a broom they were using to put out a flaming mouse. But generally, I've noticed this more with women.

So answer me this — do the women you know stink at cutting the cheese?


(Hey guys — Nel here. Obviously, this is meant to be tongue-in-cheek. OK? OK! And ladies, seriously — what did that block of muenster ever do to you?!?)

Big Mac attack

Is Ronald McDonald gonna have ta slap a bitch?!?


(via Kyle!)

69 years of pure Evel

As a kid in the 70s, I grew up with a unique kind of hero. There were still the astronauts, the firemen and SWAT cops, but above all there were the stuntmen.

It may have been a golden age for these daredevils, with TV specials and movies bringing them out of the background and into the spotlight. I remember growing up watching men rocketing their motorcycles over cars and through flaming rings, and women blowing themselves up in crates packed with dynamite. My toy box included the Evel Knievel stunt cycle, which you'd crank until it shot out across the floor and, appropriately enough, would usually crash spectacularly and send its helmeted rider flying. Somewhere I still have a Hot Wheels version of the Skycycle he rode down to the bottom of Snake River Canyon.

Hard-drinkin', hard-lovin' and just plain hard-livin', these men and women were with me as I jumped my bicycle off curbs and down ditches filled with cattails. But none stood as tall as Knievel.

For me, and for a lot of people (I think it'd be safe to call him the Godfather of Extreme Sports), Knievel was King. And now, after almost 40 broken bones and countless feats of daring, the King is dead at 69, ongoing illness being the one crash-landing he couldn't bounce back from.

Here's to you, Evel Knievel — thanks for showing me that a life without risk isn't worth living, and death is nothing to fear. You might not have had a perfect life, but you sure lived the hell out of it.

---

I don't remember where I heard it, but here's a riddle for you.

Q: Why didn't Evel Knievel make it across Snake River Canyon?

A: He was weighed down by his enormous balls.

---

Speaking of Snake River, here's some video, too:

Evel Knievel's Caesar's Palace jump (and legendary wipeout)!

Big Mack attack!

Snake River Canyon!

And this is just awesome.

Pulpo

A souvenir octopus swizzle stick, bought from a glassblower in Juarez and now taking up residence on my desk at work.

No. 1 with a bullet list

You know what's the one thing I don't like about coming home after a trip out of town? The way air gets trapped in the water pipes. When I took a shower today it sounded like a bagpipe was strangling a cat.


Lopez! and Quile have a problem with those media darlings, Perverted Justice — mostly with its poor word usage:

Lopez!: Perverted Justice? I don't even know what that means!

Quile: It should be "Justice for Perverts."


Hey, we've got friends who sell stuff — don't you want to celebrate the Savior's birthday by buying some of it? Jesus would want you to. So go check out Lisa's stuff, and then take a look at Lindy's.


So Blogger asked me if I wanted to update this template and I said sure and now everything looks goofy. And that's why all the text looks so ginormous now. Which means we'll be tinkering with it, so bear with us while things are being moved around, added or dropped.

Wow. This is possibly the most random post yet.

The problem with journalism today

"I don't know what that has to do
with the product."

— UT Austin journalism student at a Jim Lehrer lecture last night, regarding what the student considered a professor's overemphasis on interviewing skills.

Why I love my wife, Reason #3,782

As I was walking into the kitchen this morning, Lopez and I started a conversation like this:

Me: Hey, you wanna hear something gross?

Lopez: Yes.

Geek check: I should've had a d8

While I was moving my notebooks, camera and other stuff from one bag to another last night, I started looking at my gaming bag as a possible candidate.

(I'm looking for The Perfect Bag, and even though I know I don't own it I keep hoping one of them will surprise me some day; it's a search second only to my quest for The Perfect Pen.)

If you game, you know what a gaming bag is; in my case, it's a backpack I use to carry my scratch paper and pencils and player's guides and whatever else I need when I'm gaming. Of course, this also means that most of my dice are in this bag. And of course, this means I ended up spending a good half-hour or so reorganizing my dice.

REORGANIZING MY DICE.

Hey man, I needed to make sure I had plenty of d6. And then I read this entry on Wil Wheaton's blog today and was reminded that not only is he a fantastic writer and seemingly all-around good-guy, but he understands. A Yahtzee cup? C'mon.

I know most of my friends are geeks, nerds and dorks in one way or another, so let me hear it - what geeky thing have you done lately?

Thank you, Satan!

And also thanks to E, because with the exception of the clock radio this morning I literally haven't listened to anything but Dethklok since yesterday. What I need is a dethklok radio.

If you've got any metal in your soul (and a sense of humor about it), YOU NEED THIS. It's seriously one of the best metal albums I've heard in a long time, which is pretty good for a fictional band with real talent. Go get it, and pick up the Season 1 DVD while you're at it!

Also, I may now be guilty of this.

Dear Brazil: Bite me

It sounds greedy, considering that the U.S. Women's team was in position to possibly win its third World Cup title, but dammit, Brazil, are you going to dominate women's soccer, too?

Isn't it enough that you've got Ronaldhino? Now we've got to contend with Marta as well? Look at her over there - she's a machine! And beating the U.S. 4-0? That's just overkill, man. C'mon.

And yeah, I know this is the first time Brazil will be competing for the title, but I know how it goes. You get a little taste of victory and suddenly you don't want to share any more. I've seen how you operate, Brazil, and I'm afraid this is only the beginning.

Just look at the kinds of stories I'm having to read now:

USA Falls, 4-0, Brazil in 2007 FIFA World Cup Semifinals

HANGZHOU, China (Sept. 27, 2007) – The U.S. Women’s National Team endured a nightmare first half in which it scored an own goal and saw midfielder Shannon Boxx ejected. The U.S. was forced to chase the rest of the game against the dynamic and talented Brazilians who scored twice in both halves to defeat the USA, 4-0.
…

The first 20 minutes of the game saw clattering fouls from both teams, leading to free kicks in dangerous spots. Brazil forced some early pressure as well, hitting a free kick in the seventh minute that was deflected by U.S. goalkeeper Briana Scurry, off a Brazilian player and out of bounds.

The USA gifted Brazil its first goal in the 20th minute, coming off a corner kick that was spun to the near post. With no Brazilian players close to getting a touch on it, it skidded off the turf as midfielder Leslie Osborne dove to clear it, but instead inadvertently headed the ball into her own net from close range.

The second Brazil goal came seven minutes later on a piece of magical dribbling from Brazilian star Marta, who won a ball from defender Stephanie Lopez down the right flank. She dribbled inside and darted free, shooting between closing U.S. defenders Kate Markgraf and Cat Whitehill. Scurry got a hand on the ball, but couldn’t turn it outside the right post.
…

Then disaster struck in stoppage time of the first half.

Boxx had received an early yellow card in the 15th minute for upending a Brazilian player and was caught chasing a Brazilian counter attack in the 46th minute. Brazilian forward Cristiane bumped Boxx from behind, got tangled in her legs and both went down in a heap. In a harsh decision by referee Nicole Petignat, she whistled the foul, pulled out a second yellow, then red and sent Boxx to the locker room.

U.S. head coach Greg Ryan inserted Carli Lloyd for Lopez at halftime as the USA went to a 3-4-2 formation, but against the talented Brazilians and playing a woman down, the Americans faced a daunting task to get back in the game.
…

The end of the game belonged to Marta, who put on a dazzling display of dribbling and scored the capper in the 80th minute. She took a chipped pass from Renata Costa in the left side of the penalty box with her back to the goal, flicked the bouncing ball around substitute Tina Ellertson to the inside, ran around her to the outside, then cut inside to evade Whitehill before hitting her shot into the lower left corner. Once again Scurry got a glove to it, but couldn’t turn it away. The two goals gave Marta a tournament-leading seven in the 2007 FIFA Women’s World Cup.
…

It was the first loss in regulation time for the U.S. women in the past 51 games and first-ever loss under Ryan. The four-goal deficit also marked the biggest margin of defeat in U.S. history.

"Scored an own-goal" for God's sake! "Biggest margin of defeat in U.S. history!" And I can't say columns with headlines like "Brazil overwhelms U.S. with its talent" don't sting. Oh - they sting alright. I blame you for my pain, Brazil, you and your bionic soccer-monster.

I can only hope Germany is ready for what it must face.

Marta: "Raagh!! I'll swallow your soul!!!"

'A straight line is not the shortest distance between two points ...'

I was sad to read today that Madeleine L'Engle, author of A Wrinkle in Time and many other novels, died yesterday at the age of 88.

L'Engles' Wrinkle was probably the first full-on science fiction book I ever read, or at least it's the earliest I can specifically remember (A Connecticut Yankee in King Arthur's Court might have barely beaten it). And man, did it have an impact.

I must have been around 10 or so, and here was my first introduction to concepts like the space/time continuum, wormholes (though they weren't called that in the book) and planes of existence occupying different dimensions than our own. I must have read A Wrinkle in Time two or three times in a row, and then several more times over the years.

On top of the heavy dose of scientific theory, there was the compellingly creepy theme on the evils of conformity. Even now, there are two things that have stuck with me most from the book; Mrs Whatsit folding her apron to explain a space/time wormhole (the title's "wrinkle in time") and the frighteningly soulless and ordered planet where the kid's father is being held. When the heroes of Wrinkle first get there, the come upon a street lined with gray houses that's empty until, suddenly and with perfect precision, every door opens and a child comes out. Here's a taste of what weirded me out:

"As the skipping rope hit the pavement, so did the ball. As the rope curved over the head of the jumping child, the child with the ball caught the ball. Down came the ropes. Down came the balls. Over and over again. Up. Down. All in rhythm. All identical. Like the houses. Like the paths. Like the flowers."

Guh - it still gives me the creeps.

While looking for a link for background on A Wrinkle in Time, I realized I had completely forgotten about the religious overtones of the story. I'd have to re-read it (and its follow-ups, which are also good), but I remember it being kind of innocuous for the most part. It's definitely there, but it doesn't get in the way of a great story about free-thinking, relativity and the power of love. If you haven't read it, give it a try - you won't be sorry.

Thanks, Madeleine L'Engle - you introduced me to things I still think about today; and whenever I'm explaining a wormhole to someone, I still use your apron as an example.

The tide is high (but he's holding on)

Is it just me, or does it seem as if the once-tightly packed foundation of the Bush sandcastle (and by extension, the GOP) has been taking some wear-and-tear from the waves of scandal and increasing public dissatisfaction?

Just today Sen. Larry Craig of Idaho announced that he plans to resign after all the noise made since being busted for soliciting sex in an airport men's room. I still want to know what kind of "hand gestures" he made that were apparently obvious cue to the cops Is it like flashing gang signs? I don't want to get accidentally blown away, in any sense of the word.

And then, Deputy Press Secretary Dana Perino was bumped up to the top spot after Tony Snow resigned. I'm willing to give Snow a pass since he's trying to beat cancer for the second time, but I can't help but think that he might've thought it was a good idea to git while the gittin' was good. He's been a consistent cheerleader for the White House, so you know the image-conscious Administration can't be happy, especially since it comes so soon after Rove announced he was leaving.

And that was just today!

I want to believe the American public and its supposed elected representatives have finally - finally - had enough. But thanks to the actions of this administration ... I'm not sure I do. I almost feel as if Bush has stolen my wallet, and now periodically comes around to smack me in the head with it while the crowd nods and tells him, yes, he's doing the right thing.

I can only hope that the crowd is checking its pockets and will realize they've been ripped off, too.

Like a phoenix rising from Arizona

Yeah, I know - it's been a while since we've put anything up here, but a combination of a busy time at work, a week's vacation and other excuses that I hope sound good have kept us from posting as regularly as we'd like. But that doesn't mean we haven't been thinking about the poor little blog, so here are some of the things that have caught out attention lately.

We'll kick things off with - what else - the latest in pickle news! Actually, this is a few weeks old, but that's OK - we all know pickles keep forever. I'm not sure what's with the apparent upswing in pickle popularity lately, but I'm beginning to get a little suspicious, especially since this time it's local!

Apparently it's not enough to soak them in Kool-Aid; now they're freezing the juice and calling it ... a picklesickle. According to the Austin-American Statesman:

John Howard of Seguin is the creator of the Picklesickle, 2 ounces of dill pickle juice frozen in a Vienna sausage-sized plastic bag. Howard retired from the plumbing trade last year and now runs a Seguin roller rink, where he has sold thousands of the neon green frozen treats.

Frozen pickle juice pops have been popular treats for kids at fairs, drive-in movies and other events for years. Howard's Picklesickles had a similar genesis, as pickle juice frozen in small plastic cups and sold for 75 cents under the roller rink's multicolored disco lights in the city about 50 miles south of Austin. That first batch, made in May, sold out the first weekend and used up all of the pickle juice Howard had on hand. Now, he buys pickles in 5-gallon jars and uses a "proprietary method" to turn them into pure pickle juice.

On a busy weekend, Howard sells more than 300 Picklesickles, most of them to kids, he said. Flavored versions — including cherry-dill pickle, lime-dill pickle and kosher dill pickle — are in development. And Howard has sold about 30 boxes through his Picklesickle Web site, www.picklesickle.com, to pickle lovers from Waco to Anchorage, Alaska. They go for $18 to $30, depending on the quantity.

Instead of stopping myself the next time I have a crazy idea, I'm going to come up with a catchy name and slap a price tag on it, 'cause people will buy anything.

---

Y'know, today's a special day, so instead of downing another picklesickle, why don't you do something a little less icky? Like, say, summon an Outer God and fall into the endless madness that is the emptiness of a cold and uncaring universe?!?!

Yes, happy 117th birthday H.P. Lovecraft, in whatever dark dimension you may be haunting nowadays. Why, you and the Cthulhu Mythos that slithered out of your inspired imagination even has the power to make the Family Circus funny.


I have this panel taped to my office door - the look on people's faces as they read it cracks me up every time.

---

Speaking of strange goings-on, me and Lopez! spent about a week in Taos recently, where she took a class and I walked a pair of tennis shoes to death. It was the first time Lopez had been to the area, and it was nice to be around mountains and real Mexican food again. Yay mountains! Screw you, tex-mex!

The Worst Soup in the World

I didn't have much for lunch today, but you know what? That's OK, because the alternative would have been to eat the entire container of Dr. McDougall's Vegan Minestrone and Pasta soup, which is so bad I can't even think of a simile for it.

Vegan food can be good, but maybe that's just the freshly made stuff because I can tell you that this cup of instant soup is so bad that I would not be surprised if you told me the Devil himself squatted over cardboard containers all day just to put this product on the shelves. Is this why you vegans tend to be grumpy? I would be too if this was the kind of crap I had to eat.

And don't get me wrong - this isn't an anti-vegan rant. I eat everything and I've put some truly foul things in my mouth. But this ... good God ... I didn't even pay for it and I feel ripped off.

Lopez and I forgot lunch today, so we borrowed these cups of caca from a coworker (who claims they're "good," by the way). Our first hint of things to come? When Lopez had her first spoonful and said, "Tastes fishy."

Lopez thought the MINESTRONE TASTED FISHY!

It was all downhill from there. The beans and vegetables never rehydrated, and instead became little dried-out bombs of ick. The "flavor mix" tended to hide in the pasta shells, waiting to unleash the full force of the soups' strangely chemical taste. There was something in there that could have been barley, or just as easily could have have been Styrofoam. No, wait - I've tasted Styrofoam, and it wasn't this bad.

In the end I could only eat the broth, and even then it was a struggle. With every bite I became more pissed, as if this soup had personally committed an affront to me and my entire family, and then smacked me in the back of the head with a dead 'possum. Lopez didn't eat much more, and she loves soup.

We shared a bag of Cool Ranch Doritos and a Coke with "lunch." We later both had a handful of Reese's Pieces.

I CAN STILL TASTE THAT GODDAMN SOUP!

This soup was so bad I felt compelled to warn everyone about it, like it was Attila's horde or an impromptu Yanni concert. If you have the opportunity to eat this soup, I'd recommend you catch a squirrel and then use it to scrape up some unidentifiable roadkill in a toxic swamp instead. It would be better than Dr. Death's Vegan Minestrone and Evil soup.

It would have to be better.

Things I Hate: 1st in a series

• People who habitually use British slang

Attention individuals who "casually" drop lingo from the U.K. on a regular basis - including "bloody," "wanker," "arse" and "bollocks" - but are not connected to the U.K. in any way:

YOU'RE NOT BRITISH!

(Anyone from the United Kingdom, please ignore this message.)