So I picked up the new Warhammer 40,000 real time strategy computer game Dawn of War. It's not bad. I'm not exactly the biggest fan of the RTS format. I'll play it, and indeed I've wasted more hours than I'd care to admit on battle.net, but on the whole I think it is actually a pretty shallow genre. RTS games are all about resource management; how you spend your first thousand points, gold, minerals, whatever, will generally decide the whole game. And, in those cases where such expenditures are not decisive, between players of equal skill for instance, the vagaries of micro-management dictate the final outcome. On the whole I suppose it isn't the worst way to wittle life down twenty minutes at a time, but there are certainly better game formats around.
Measured against other RTS types, Dawn of War isn't bad. The graphics are nice, though large battles and certain terrain types can cause some lag, especially on lower-end machines. I play the 40k miniatures game, so the background story is of some interest to me. Dawn of War actually captures the 40k flavor pretty well, and I recommend it to fans of the table top version. The four races have are all fairly equal, though the Eldar are probably the best and the Orks are probably the worst. Leaders are too important though, and they come out too early. It isn't as bad as Warcraft 3 in that regard, but it would've been better if leaders were higher up on the tech tree.
So, if you are a fan of real-time strategy games, or if you're a Warhammer 40,000 player, I recommend you pick up Dawn of War and give it a try. If you're on the Gamespy multi-player thing they have, the LeperColony is always up for a match.
Friday, October 15, 2004
Sunday, October 10, 2004
Pointless Factoid II
Did you know that the president is completely immune from civil suits arising as a result of the execution of his official duties? It's true. See Nixon v. Fitzgerald, 457 U.S. 731.
Thursday, October 07, 2004
Shuffling By
I saw Shaun of the Dead today, treating a friend to the movie and lunch in exchange for having missed the birthday party. To be perfectly honest, I wasn't expecting much from it. The trailers and TV commercials left me with the impression that it would be similar to those "Scary Movie" or "Another Teen Movie" lampoons, trading on vulgarity and cliche in place of commentary or actual comedy. To most people now, and even more so "comedians," parody seems to require nothing more than profanity and absurd exaggeration.
Shaun of the Dead is more than just a parody of zombie flicks. To be sure, it does that well enough; the movie pokes fun at more than one tenet of the genre, and even at the end manages an amusing aside to the movie 28 Days Later. But amusing as the movie may be on the surface, as nothing more than simple parody, there are a number of unexpected, and still more surprising, engaging, subtexts. Shaun of the Dead is really quite clever, and the more you notice, the more you'll enjoy it. The movie deals with some serious issues; relationships, the banality of modern existence and the search for personal fulfillment, and still more than you could pack into a pretentious art film, yet it still feels fun.
The movie is British, so I couldn't say if the actors were well known there, but I didn't recognize any of the faces. Still, a lack of fame didn't detract from their performances, and I think the cast did a good job. There really wasn't much to recommend the score or the effects, but neither did they detract from the overrall experience. The zombies looked dead enough, and it wasn't that kind of film anyway.
Even if you are not a fan of zombie movies, I recommend Shaun of the Dead. It's funny and clever, but there's real substance underneath. If you find there are parts where you're the only one laughing, don't worry. That means you get it.
Shaun of the Dead is more than just a parody of zombie flicks. To be sure, it does that well enough; the movie pokes fun at more than one tenet of the genre, and even at the end manages an amusing aside to the movie 28 Days Later. But amusing as the movie may be on the surface, as nothing more than simple parody, there are a number of unexpected, and still more surprising, engaging, subtexts. Shaun of the Dead is really quite clever, and the more you notice, the more you'll enjoy it. The movie deals with some serious issues; relationships, the banality of modern existence and the search for personal fulfillment, and still more than you could pack into a pretentious art film, yet it still feels fun.
The movie is British, so I couldn't say if the actors were well known there, but I didn't recognize any of the faces. Still, a lack of fame didn't detract from their performances, and I think the cast did a good job. There really wasn't much to recommend the score or the effects, but neither did they detract from the overrall experience. The zombies looked dead enough, and it wasn't that kind of film anyway.
Even if you are not a fan of zombie movies, I recommend Shaun of the Dead. It's funny and clever, but there's real substance underneath. If you find there are parts where you're the only one laughing, don't worry. That means you get it.
Sunday, September 12, 2004
Freaks
For some reason I find people who lack earlobes somewhat disturbing. I assume most of you have encountered someone so afflicted, but for those of you who haven't allow me to assure you that it is most distressing.
Friday, September 10, 2004
Resident Advisor
Today I met a friend and we went to go see Resident Evil: apocalypse. Now, despite the near universal lack of anything approaching quality or substance, I cannot but admit a certain affection for the Zombie genre. I'm not really sure what it is that's so attractive, but for the life of me I can't help seeing the walking dead. And, when you throw in Milia Jovovich, well...
Anyway, the chance to see it came up, so I took it. I don't normally go to movies on opening day, but we caught an afternoon show. Not that I think there would be lines for this one or anything, but you never know. Even though we caught the matinee, it was still seven bucks for a ticket. I've noticed a general increase in the price of admission, and we actually went to the more expensive theatre in nearby Union City. I prefer that theatre because it has stadium seating; that is, seats on elevated levels. At a modest 5'5" it takes little to block my view, and to make matters worse I often have the misfortune of sitting behind some rotund NBA reject. An extra fifty cents or even a dollar seems a reasonable price to assure that I'll be seeing the movie and not someone's misshapen rear profile. Unfortunately, in this case, stadium seats simply afforded me an unobstructed view to a dismal offering.
The movie itself is surpassingly dull. Sure, they can make you jump by blaring a sound effect loud enough, but there is no surprise. Rather than concentrate on a meaningful plot, interesting characters, or even novel effects, the RE:A people relied on tired and familiar horror cliches. There is really nothing worth paying attention to at all, save perhaps the delectable trio of female "actresses," and not only are they of interest to but half the audience (give or take), the movie eventually robs them of even that appeal. Or, at least, diminishes it.
Milia plays the invincible hardcore woman warrior with a stiffness indicative of rigor mortis, her few attempts at dead pan humor somewhat less amusing than the emergency broadcast system. She was supposed to have been altered by Umbrella, but you never get the feeling that her flat performance was influenced so much by thespiatic integrity as incompetence. They do show her nude at one point, but it seemed to me an oddly emaciated body. She looked kinda like a skinny man with no shirt.
There was a reporter girl, cute in the way they are all dolled up like that, but aside from that largely unremarkable. Her character has a surprising amount of screen time, and her dialogue if forgettable was nonetheless considerably more interesting than that of nearly anyone else's. As far as the plot goes, she really adds nothing and her sole disnction came in opposing splitting up (though, of corse, they do anyway).
Perhaps the most attractive of the three women was the girl who played Jill Valentine. She was definetly very cute, and her clothing, if somewhat inappropriate for a police officer, left little to the imagination. Unfortunately, she was severly disappointed in the dialogue department. The line "fuck me" featured prominately, and though it was a suggestion not entirely without merit, I think most of us had hit on the idea already by the third or fourth time she said it. As far as the plot goes, Jill was more important than the reporter. Valentine, a member of STARS (Special Tactics and Rescue Squad) was supposed to be integral to their escape efforts, though she's the one who decides the group should split up. She also has to deal with that most predictable of problems, a friend infected with the zombie virus. All in all, a shallow and unremarkable performance, but one of the better ones probably at that.
Aside from dismal main characters, the movie has all the other shortcomings you'd expect. An unrealistic plot, a supposedly organized and well equipped military losing to shuffling corpses limited to the speed of crippled slugs, a dumb monster boyfriend for Milia, a heartless and mindlessly evil corporation, and an over reliance on so-so effects and predictable jokes. The comic foil, this time a loud mouthed taxi driver, is once again a high point, and this type of character is quickly becoming a saving grace for these kinds of movies. Even so, they are certainly incapable of carrying the movie on their own, though fortunately none of them have been expected to.
So, all that being said, take my advice. Skip a second trip to Racoon City.
Anyway, the chance to see it came up, so I took it. I don't normally go to movies on opening day, but we caught an afternoon show. Not that I think there would be lines for this one or anything, but you never know. Even though we caught the matinee, it was still seven bucks for a ticket. I've noticed a general increase in the price of admission, and we actually went to the more expensive theatre in nearby Union City. I prefer that theatre because it has stadium seating; that is, seats on elevated levels. At a modest 5'5" it takes little to block my view, and to make matters worse I often have the misfortune of sitting behind some rotund NBA reject. An extra fifty cents or even a dollar seems a reasonable price to assure that I'll be seeing the movie and not someone's misshapen rear profile. Unfortunately, in this case, stadium seats simply afforded me an unobstructed view to a dismal offering.
The movie itself is surpassingly dull. Sure, they can make you jump by blaring a sound effect loud enough, but there is no surprise. Rather than concentrate on a meaningful plot, interesting characters, or even novel effects, the RE:A people relied on tired and familiar horror cliches. There is really nothing worth paying attention to at all, save perhaps the delectable trio of female "actresses," and not only are they of interest to but half the audience (give or take), the movie eventually robs them of even that appeal. Or, at least, diminishes it.
Milia plays the invincible hardcore woman warrior with a stiffness indicative of rigor mortis, her few attempts at dead pan humor somewhat less amusing than the emergency broadcast system. She was supposed to have been altered by Umbrella, but you never get the feeling that her flat performance was influenced so much by thespiatic integrity as incompetence. They do show her nude at one point, but it seemed to me an oddly emaciated body. She looked kinda like a skinny man with no shirt.
There was a reporter girl, cute in the way they are all dolled up like that, but aside from that largely unremarkable. Her character has a surprising amount of screen time, and her dialogue if forgettable was nonetheless considerably more interesting than that of nearly anyone else's. As far as the plot goes, she really adds nothing and her sole disnction came in opposing splitting up (though, of corse, they do anyway).
Perhaps the most attractive of the three women was the girl who played Jill Valentine. She was definetly very cute, and her clothing, if somewhat inappropriate for a police officer, left little to the imagination. Unfortunately, she was severly disappointed in the dialogue department. The line "fuck me" featured prominately, and though it was a suggestion not entirely without merit, I think most of us had hit on the idea already by the third or fourth time she said it. As far as the plot goes, Jill was more important than the reporter. Valentine, a member of STARS (Special Tactics and Rescue Squad) was supposed to be integral to their escape efforts, though she's the one who decides the group should split up. She also has to deal with that most predictable of problems, a friend infected with the zombie virus. All in all, a shallow and unremarkable performance, but one of the better ones probably at that.
Aside from dismal main characters, the movie has all the other shortcomings you'd expect. An unrealistic plot, a supposedly organized and well equipped military losing to shuffling corpses limited to the speed of crippled slugs, a dumb monster boyfriend for Milia, a heartless and mindlessly evil corporation, and an over reliance on so-so effects and predictable jokes. The comic foil, this time a loud mouthed taxi driver, is once again a high point, and this type of character is quickly becoming a saving grace for these kinds of movies. Even so, they are certainly incapable of carrying the movie on their own, though fortunately none of them have been expected to.
So, all that being said, take my advice. Skip a second trip to Racoon City.
Thursday, September 09, 2004
Champion of Troy
As I was getting ready for class, I was watching the Missouri v. Troy football game on ESPN. Missouri was a nationally ranked team, and Troy was supposed to be something of a pushover. The underdogs eventually win though, just going to show that you can't ever count anyone down in that game.
I didn't have any particular stake in the game, it was just on as background noise. For the most part, I wasn't even really paying any attention to it. But just as I was getting ready to leave, I saw the most remarkable play. Troy was down by seven points and they had the ball. The offense ran a draw play (a hand-off to the running back, who runs straight up the field) and the running back managed to get about ten yards. Ordinarily that'd impressive, but hardly noteworthy. This time, as he was about to be tackled, the running back pitched the ball to a nearby lineman, number seventy-nine, Junior Louissaint. Big fatty took the ball and rumbled fifty yards to the endzone. The only defender who even got a hand on him was a spindly cornerback, who Junior dragged into the endzone. It was quite a sight to see, funny and impressive too, and it's always nice when linemen get a minute in the spotlight.
So here's to you, Junior Louissaint. Good job.
I didn't have any particular stake in the game, it was just on as background noise. For the most part, I wasn't even really paying any attention to it. But just as I was getting ready to leave, I saw the most remarkable play. Troy was down by seven points and they had the ball. The offense ran a draw play (a hand-off to the running back, who runs straight up the field) and the running back managed to get about ten yards. Ordinarily that'd impressive, but hardly noteworthy. This time, as he was about to be tackled, the running back pitched the ball to a nearby lineman, number seventy-nine, Junior Louissaint. Big fatty took the ball and rumbled fifty yards to the endzone. The only defender who even got a hand on him was a spindly cornerback, who Junior dragged into the endzone. It was quite a sight to see, funny and impressive too, and it's always nice when linemen get a minute in the spotlight.
So here's to you, Junior Louissaint. Good job.
Monday, September 06, 2004
Conquest
Well, it's Labor Day here in the States. Three day weekends are always precious, but some of them are better than others, because some of them play host to gaming conventions. That's right, just in case it wasn't clear just how much of a geek I really am, I attend local gaming conventions. I'd visit the bigger ones back east too, if I could afford it. For those of you who have never seen one, a gaming convention is pretty much what you'd expect it to be. For four days a veritable swarm of nerds descend on a hapless hotel. Four days of hit points and armor class, where the fate of entire worlds hangs on the slender sides of dodecahedrons.
For those of us who have been going for a while, conventions are as much social occasions as gaming opportunities, if not more so. The intense atmosphere of the convention, and the fact that you are likely to be stuck with a particular group of people for several hours at a time prove efficient bonding situations. The "con buddy" is a peculiar sort of relationship. Such associations do not really rise to the dignity of a true friendship, but they are unusually strong given the brevity of interaction.
When you sign up for a con game, you can usually count on a good time. If you're lucky, you get a neat story from it. And if you're really lucky, you meet someone worth playing something else with. That's a con buddy. These people I see but two or three times a year, and it is only for the better part of four days at that, but shared experiences and common interests work swiftly to create a familiarity out of all expectations.
This year at Conquest I managed to play several games, including a few I usually miss for one reason or another. Listed below was my weekend itinerary, as well as my record:
Friday: Game Mastered a Dungeons and Dragons game. If you run a game at a convention, you get in for free. As a weekend pass will run about thirty bucks, it makes sense to run an event.
Saturday: I played Attack!, a board game made by Eagle Games. It's a pre-WWII game with many simularities to Risk, but you play a government type rather than a faceless empire. All in all it wasn't bad, but I didn't find the system particularly impressive. It was my first time playing, but I managed to spread the enlightened influence of Communism across the globe.
I also got to play jumbo sized Battletech. The people at Armorcast make giant sized mechs. They run this event at just about every local con every year, but somehow something always gets in my way. This time I got to play, and it was a blast. I had to play the Inner Sphere, which is made up of primitive warlords, and I had to resist the Clans, technologically sophisticated invaders. Still, thanks to my dazzling tactical genius, and awesome dice rolls (but mostly genius), I managed to win. Props to my erstwhile partner and my worthy opponent.
Sunday: Played Man O' War, an old Games Workshop product detailing age-of-sail naval combat with fantasy races. I played Chaos and the Chaos Dwarves (I know, but the fleets were pre-made) against Empire and Dwarves. Dominate is an insufficient verb to describe my victory.
I also played Paths of Glory twice. PoG is a GMT wargame simulating WWI. Unlike many wargames, PoG is fast and simple, using cards rather a library of rules to dictate the flow of play. I lost once as the Allies, and I won once as the Central Powers.
Monday: Didn't show at all. If I'm not staying at the hotel, I usually skip Monday. There aren't hardly an events, and most everyone has already gone home anyway, looking to recover in time for work on Tuesday. This year I had a cold most of the weekend, so I got some much needed rest. Missed a kublacon staff meeting though.
Well, that was my three day weekend, spent in the midst of geekdom. A good time had by all.
For those of us who have been going for a while, conventions are as much social occasions as gaming opportunities, if not more so. The intense atmosphere of the convention, and the fact that you are likely to be stuck with a particular group of people for several hours at a time prove efficient bonding situations. The "con buddy" is a peculiar sort of relationship. Such associations do not really rise to the dignity of a true friendship, but they are unusually strong given the brevity of interaction.
When you sign up for a con game, you can usually count on a good time. If you're lucky, you get a neat story from it. And if you're really lucky, you meet someone worth playing something else with. That's a con buddy. These people I see but two or three times a year, and it is only for the better part of four days at that, but shared experiences and common interests work swiftly to create a familiarity out of all expectations.
This year at Conquest I managed to play several games, including a few I usually miss for one reason or another. Listed below was my weekend itinerary, as well as my record:
Friday: Game Mastered a Dungeons and Dragons game. If you run a game at a convention, you get in for free. As a weekend pass will run about thirty bucks, it makes sense to run an event.
Saturday: I played Attack!, a board game made by Eagle Games. It's a pre-WWII game with many simularities to Risk, but you play a government type rather than a faceless empire. All in all it wasn't bad, but I didn't find the system particularly impressive. It was my first time playing, but I managed to spread the enlightened influence of Communism across the globe.
I also got to play jumbo sized Battletech. The people at Armorcast make giant sized mechs. They run this event at just about every local con every year, but somehow something always gets in my way. This time I got to play, and it was a blast. I had to play the Inner Sphere, which is made up of primitive warlords, and I had to resist the Clans, technologically sophisticated invaders. Still, thanks to my dazzling tactical genius, and awesome dice rolls (but mostly genius), I managed to win. Props to my erstwhile partner and my worthy opponent.
Sunday: Played Man O' War, an old Games Workshop product detailing age-of-sail naval combat with fantasy races. I played Chaos and the Chaos Dwarves (I know, but the fleets were pre-made) against Empire and Dwarves. Dominate is an insufficient verb to describe my victory.
I also played Paths of Glory twice. PoG is a GMT wargame simulating WWI. Unlike many wargames, PoG is fast and simple, using cards rather a library of rules to dictate the flow of play. I lost once as the Allies, and I won once as the Central Powers.
Monday: Didn't show at all. If I'm not staying at the hotel, I usually skip Monday. There aren't hardly an events, and most everyone has already gone home anyway, looking to recover in time for work on Tuesday. This year I had a cold most of the weekend, so I got some much needed rest. Missed a kublacon staff meeting though.
Well, that was my three day weekend, spent in the midst of geekdom. A good time had by all.
Wednesday, September 01, 2004
Pointless Factoid
Having nothing of particular interest to relate, I thought I'd communicate a pointless factoid. I figure this could become a regular practice, to supply an entry for those days when I feel like making one, but don't want to put too much effort into it. So, here goes.
Did you know that Number 10 Downing Street is actually the residence of the First Lord of the Treasury and not the Prime Minister? In fact, the Prime Minister derives both his salary and his official residence from the office of the First Lord of the Treasury.
This useless bit of information, and plenty more, are all available free of charge at wikipedia, the online encyclopedia.
Did you know that Number 10 Downing Street is actually the residence of the First Lord of the Treasury and not the Prime Minister? In fact, the Prime Minister derives both his salary and his official residence from the office of the First Lord of the Treasury.
This useless bit of information, and plenty more, are all available free of charge at wikipedia, the online encyclopedia.
Monday, August 30, 2004
Breakfast of Champions
I've been told there is a "Chicken and Waffle" place in Jack London Square. Apparently, it is the custom in some places of the United States to pair fried chicken and waffles together. You're supposed to match, or at least quickly follow the taste of one to the other, and the result is supposed to be less repellant than it sounds. Somehow.
When it comes to food, I'm a little picky. Selection isn't really the problem, I can eat a range of foods, wider than many Americans because of my early exposure to certain anatomical or marine combinations peculiar to Asian cuisine. Nor is quality that great a concern. I can subsist on a thin ration of ramen, potato chips, and vanilla coke almost indefinetly. However, I am extremely sensative to proper culinary organization. Like the drill seargent in Toys, I like my different dishes to remain seperate, and I tend to eat my food in sequence, completing all I desire from one before moving onto the other.
If invited, I'll probably end up going just for the hell of it. I'd never even heard of a Chicken and Waffle place, but it was discussed as though they were common. Disgusting as the prospect of this unholy breakfast is, I think it's something I'd have to see, if I got the chance.
When it comes to food, I'm a little picky. Selection isn't really the problem, I can eat a range of foods, wider than many Americans because of my early exposure to certain anatomical or marine combinations peculiar to Asian cuisine. Nor is quality that great a concern. I can subsist on a thin ration of ramen, potato chips, and vanilla coke almost indefinetly. However, I am extremely sensative to proper culinary organization. Like the drill seargent in Toys, I like my different dishes to remain seperate, and I tend to eat my food in sequence, completing all I desire from one before moving onto the other.
If invited, I'll probably end up going just for the hell of it. I'd never even heard of a Chicken and Waffle place, but it was discussed as though they were common. Disgusting as the prospect of this unholy breakfast is, I think it's something I'd have to see, if I got the chance.
Sunday, August 29, 2004
Wrong exit off the information superhighway
Sometimes in the course of websurfing you find what you're looking for. Sometimes you don't. A while ago I stumbled across this site, but as I didn't have a blog at the time, I didn't have a forum to share it. Now, for better or worse, I do. Click away, sanity optional.
And yes, I've read the whole thing.
And yes, I've read the whole thing.
Thursday, August 26, 2004
Words to live by
To mourn a mischief that is past and gone
Is the next way to draw new mischief on.
What cannot be preserved when fortune takes
Patience her injury a mockery makes.
Is the next way to draw new mischief on.
What cannot be preserved when fortune takes
Patience her injury a mockery makes.
Othello, Act I, Scene III
I am surrounded, it seems, by an inordinate number of hot heads. These are people for whom the word trivial never precedes conflict. They make mountains of mole hills, then claim the credit for mastering so marvelous a summit. Failure only enlarges an obstacle to the point where even the smallest of obstructions can threaten to derail critical endeavors. Pride becomes an end in of itself, an all-consuming concern made all the more implaccable with its divorce from reason.
I myself am, of course, not free from such sentiments, but I take it as a tenant of proper living that they lead only to ruin. Annoyance I find rises within me easily, but it departs just as freely. I am rarely moved to true anger, and to my credit I find the feeling difficult to abide. In the end, I just don't feel there's much worth getting so worked up over.
Wednesday, August 25, 2004
Scholastic Subversion
As I add this entry to my blog, I am in the middle of my Constitutional Law class. On the one hand, I feel like I should be paying attention to the lecture. After all, I've paid a lot of money to be here, and they (by they, I mean the administration) seem to feel that it's important that everyone take this class. However, the lectures themselves come right out of the textbook. If you've done your reading, there's nothing new to be heard, except the incompetence of your classmates.
There is a maxim in life that the majority of people are stupid. Unfortunately, the ratio of blithering idiots to smart people is barely more favorable in law school than found in the general public. To be sure, it is somewhat better, and to the extent that it is not, there is at least the thin veneer of education, but overall the average student here is a moron. Most of the questions reveal either the inability to read the casebook, or at least the inability to understand it. Classes like Con Law, lectures that simply follow and describe the readings, are a waste of time, hence the blogging.
Now there are classes that do not fit the Con Law mold. I have Evidence later, and that is an interactive and engaging class, where you actually have to go so far as to apply the readings. Even Evidence, however, is not really so much difficult as involved, and proper preperation is all that is really required. Many people believe that law school must be very hard. It is not. Boring, costly, and filled to a surprising degree with scut work, but not particularly difficult. Law school is no more, or less, than the most expensive trade school in the world.
There is a maxim in life that the majority of people are stupid. Unfortunately, the ratio of blithering idiots to smart people is barely more favorable in law school than found in the general public. To be sure, it is somewhat better, and to the extent that it is not, there is at least the thin veneer of education, but overall the average student here is a moron. Most of the questions reveal either the inability to read the casebook, or at least the inability to understand it. Classes like Con Law, lectures that simply follow and describe the readings, are a waste of time, hence the blogging.
Now there are classes that do not fit the Con Law mold. I have Evidence later, and that is an interactive and engaging class, where you actually have to go so far as to apply the readings. Even Evidence, however, is not really so much difficult as involved, and proper preperation is all that is really required. Many people believe that law school must be very hard. It is not. Boring, costly, and filled to a surprising degree with scut work, but not particularly difficult. Law school is no more, or less, than the most expensive trade school in the world.
Monday, August 23, 2004
The weakest link
Well, I've linked to a new blog. It's maintained by one of my friends, an old roommate from UCSC. There's not really much I can say in his favor. He's pretty dumb, shallow too, and yes a Dragonball Z fan to boot, but for all that I guess it's a little late in the day to renounce him. You can see his new blog here, if you really have nothing better to do.
Sunday, August 22, 2004
Strong Foundations
I went by Half Priced Books on Friday, a local book store that sells used books for about half of their listed retail sale price. Bet you never saw that one coming. Anyway, I picked up a few books from Asimov's Foundation series, and I also bought Ship of Fools by Richard Russo.
Despite my proud membership in the Most Maligned Order of the Nerd, I have yet to read any of Asimov's books. However, the recent release of the movie I, Robot, despite the fact that it apparently has nothing to do with any of his works, spurred me on to jump him to the top of my reading list. I'll be reading the Foundation Series, a back story that has always sounded fairly interesting, yet still something I had yet read. I'll post what I think about them as I progress through the books.
Despite my proud membership in the Most Maligned Order of the Nerd, I have yet to read any of Asimov's books. However, the recent release of the movie I, Robot, despite the fact that it apparently has nothing to do with any of his works, spurred me on to jump him to the top of my reading list. I'll be reading the Foundation Series, a back story that has always sounded fairly interesting, yet still something I had yet read. I'll post what I think about them as I progress through the books.
Friday, August 20, 2004
A Friday is a terrible thing to waste
Today I had the misfortune of sitting through AVP, also known as Alien versus Predator. In my own defense I had wanted to see I, Robot, but the last show had already begun by the time we got to the theatre. I have heard that the robot movie isn't actually very good, but it seems rather unlikely that it is any worse than AVP.
Aliens v. Predator is the worst conjunction of cinematic cliches I've seen all year. The amassed group of scientists and security personnel resemble nothing so much as a particularly disorganized elementary school field trip. Character development was so perfunctory as to have been merely obligatory, the only benefit of which was the fact that it limited my exposure to thespiatic (if that's a word) incompetence. Everything, from the pseudo-science to the painful dialogue was one unremitting stream of disappointment. But possibly the greatest failure of the movie came from the fight scenes.
I imagine that, in the late seventies, the first appearence of the alien monster must have been quite terrifying. Indeed, I myself was subjected to the movie Aliens at a very young age, and harbored a fear toward the creature which seems somewhat silly in retrospect. Now, however, the sleek black rubber suit is a familiar icon, one that in AVP illicits nothing save a desire to be watching one of its better performances instead. The Predator too, sadly, is nothing new, and should prove interesting only long enough for viewers to remember how crappy its first movies were.
Of the effects nothing can really be said except that they are perhaps the best part of AVP, rising above the sewage of script, directing, and characters to an exaulted peak of mediocrity. Unfortunately, because we come to such a movie expecting great effects, mere mediocrity amounts to the most profound disappointment to be found in this dismal offering.
Aliens v. Predator is the worst conjunction of cinematic cliches I've seen all year. The amassed group of scientists and security personnel resemble nothing so much as a particularly disorganized elementary school field trip. Character development was so perfunctory as to have been merely obligatory, the only benefit of which was the fact that it limited my exposure to thespiatic (if that's a word) incompetence. Everything, from the pseudo-science to the painful dialogue was one unremitting stream of disappointment. But possibly the greatest failure of the movie came from the fight scenes.
I imagine that, in the late seventies, the first appearence of the alien monster must have been quite terrifying. Indeed, I myself was subjected to the movie Aliens at a very young age, and harbored a fear toward the creature which seems somewhat silly in retrospect. Now, however, the sleek black rubber suit is a familiar icon, one that in AVP illicits nothing save a desire to be watching one of its better performances instead. The Predator too, sadly, is nothing new, and should prove interesting only long enough for viewers to remember how crappy its first movies were.
Of the effects nothing can really be said except that they are perhaps the best part of AVP, rising above the sewage of script, directing, and characters to an exaulted peak of mediocrity. Unfortunately, because we come to such a movie expecting great effects, mere mediocrity amounts to the most profound disappointment to be found in this dismal offering.
Thursday, August 19, 2004
Credits
Well, my schedule is set now. My class list is filled with impressive sounding titles:
Constitutional Law
Evidence
Civil Procedure in the State and Federal Courts
The Legal Profession
These are all at SCU. I'm contemplating taking Piano at a local junior college. I've always wanted to learn how to play the Piano, but for one reason or another I've never gotten around to it. I regret I don't have the time to take more personal interest classes at the JC. I wouldn't mind taking Japanese, especially because proficiency would significantly enlarge the number of dramas I could watch (or at least understand). Languages are tough though, because they require constant effort, and I am more of a short term kind of guy. I get interested in something, I try it out for a while, and once I think I've got a grasp on the basics I move on. A subject has to be really important or really interesting to capture my interest in the long term, and I have encountered few examples thus far.
Film and Theatre are two subjects I have always wanted to explore in greater detail. I've taken academic film examination classes at UCSC, but I am not as interested in the analytical side as the artistic. I don't want to dissect films, I want to help make them. Directing, I've always thought, would be an engrossing study, though I can't really say I understand much of what it truly entails. Nor would I be adversely disposed to giving acting a shot. Years of role-playing games have given me the satisfaction of playing literally hundreds of personalities, and though I'm sure that is only a primitive reflection of the art, it was enough to whet my appetite.
I don't have any pretentions at making my living by Film or Theatre, but they are two fields that have always interested me. I should like someday to be part of an amature project or volunteer troupe, to present a story to an audience, to set out from ourselves a world of our own making. That's the great allure to me, no matter what part I might ultimately play. Even should I never get a better opportunity than that of the humblest curtain puller, I would take pride in my part of a wonderous creation.
Constitutional Law
Evidence
Civil Procedure in the State and Federal Courts
The Legal Profession
These are all at SCU. I'm contemplating taking Piano at a local junior college. I've always wanted to learn how to play the Piano, but for one reason or another I've never gotten around to it. I regret I don't have the time to take more personal interest classes at the JC. I wouldn't mind taking Japanese, especially because proficiency would significantly enlarge the number of dramas I could watch (or at least understand). Languages are tough though, because they require constant effort, and I am more of a short term kind of guy. I get interested in something, I try it out for a while, and once I think I've got a grasp on the basics I move on. A subject has to be really important or really interesting to capture my interest in the long term, and I have encountered few examples thus far.
Film and Theatre are two subjects I have always wanted to explore in greater detail. I've taken academic film examination classes at UCSC, but I am not as interested in the analytical side as the artistic. I don't want to dissect films, I want to help make them. Directing, I've always thought, would be an engrossing study, though I can't really say I understand much of what it truly entails. Nor would I be adversely disposed to giving acting a shot. Years of role-playing games have given me the satisfaction of playing literally hundreds of personalities, and though I'm sure that is only a primitive reflection of the art, it was enough to whet my appetite.
I don't have any pretentions at making my living by Film or Theatre, but they are two fields that have always interested me. I should like someday to be part of an amature project or volunteer troupe, to present a story to an audience, to set out from ourselves a world of our own making. That's the great allure to me, no matter what part I might ultimately play. Even should I never get a better opportunity than that of the humblest curtain puller, I would take pride in my part of a wonderous creation.
Wednesday, August 18, 2004
Trials of the Jedi
I play Star Wars Galaxies, the Star Wars MMORPG. I'm not hardcore or anything, but I do play at least a few hours a month. At first the idea of paying a monthly fee to play a game seemed somewhat silly, but now it seems like a pretty good deal. It costs about fifteen bucks a month to play, but you get to play as much as you want. Fifteen dollars is a little less than the cost of two feature movie tickets here, so if you play at least four hours a month then you're getting a better deal than at the theatre.
To become a Jedi you have to master eight random professions. The identities of these professions are kept hidden, so you just have to guess. There are a total of thirty-three, so you have to complete just under a quarter of them. Each profession varies, but the average one can be completed in about forty-eight to sixty hours of game play. I've been in SWG for a year now, and I've completed fifteen, or just under half, and I am still not a Jedi. This doesn't really bother me, as I don't mind taking it slow. Unfortunately, there is a problem on the horizon.
SOE, the company that owns SWG, is going to change the way people become Jedi because the current system of grinding professions is dumb. I support the change in theory, but I know that the new system will be even more difficult than the old one. If I want a Jedi any time soon, I know I'll have to step up the grinding and get really lucky, neither of which seems very likely.
To become a Jedi you have to master eight random professions. The identities of these professions are kept hidden, so you just have to guess. There are a total of thirty-three, so you have to complete just under a quarter of them. Each profession varies, but the average one can be completed in about forty-eight to sixty hours of game play. I've been in SWG for a year now, and I've completed fifteen, or just under half, and I am still not a Jedi. This doesn't really bother me, as I don't mind taking it slow. Unfortunately, there is a problem on the horizon.
SOE, the company that owns SWG, is going to change the way people become Jedi because the current system of grinding professions is dumb. I support the change in theory, but I know that the new system will be even more difficult than the old one. If I want a Jedi any time soon, I know I'll have to step up the grinding and get really lucky, neither of which seems very likely.
Tuesday, August 17, 2004
I'm in the money
It can be difficult for those of you who are not subject to the whims of scholastic financial aid to understand the joy to which Dispersal Day is anticipated. Perhaps the best analogy would be "pay day," except that it comes only twice a year. However, when you compound the individual dispersals together, you get a population of previously poor young people suddenly endowed with a rush of largely undeserved cash. The ensuing purchasing frenzy can rival that of any traditional holiday, and the reckless combination of youth and money invariably results in parties and drunken revels.
The days immediately preceding Dispersal Day, however, are some of the leanest experienced in the first world. Separated from their previous aid award by a year, students everywhere are reduced to consuming the last of their remaining ramen, hot dog, or Mac 'n Cheese stores. And that's merely the fate of the fortunate. For the spendthrift the weeks before Dispersal Day are miserable exercises of self-denial and endurance, mitigated only to the extent that you may prevail upon the pity of friends and associates.
Fortunately, all hardships are quickly forgotten come deliverance. An orgy of expenditure occurs, as students across the country binge on fast food, upgrade computers, and obtain for themselves personal luxuries. Freed from the shackles of fiduciary restrait, young people pursue their long forestalled materialistic aspirations with an all consuming ardor.
For SCU Law students, Dispersal Day came on Monday. When I went to the Bursar's Office, I was told I was among the unfortunate block of students whose checks were not to be printed until the next day (today). I now look forward to class with an enthusiasm that rarely applies, as I will make a stop at the Financial Aid office afterwards. From there, who knows? Maybe I'll get a nice steak. I'm kinda sick of ramen...
Happy Financial Aid Dispersal Day!
The days immediately preceding Dispersal Day, however, are some of the leanest experienced in the first world. Separated from their previous aid award by a year, students everywhere are reduced to consuming the last of their remaining ramen, hot dog, or Mac 'n Cheese stores. And that's merely the fate of the fortunate. For the spendthrift the weeks before Dispersal Day are miserable exercises of self-denial and endurance, mitigated only to the extent that you may prevail upon the pity of friends and associates.
Fortunately, all hardships are quickly forgotten come deliverance. An orgy of expenditure occurs, as students across the country binge on fast food, upgrade computers, and obtain for themselves personal luxuries. Freed from the shackles of fiduciary restrait, young people pursue their long forestalled materialistic aspirations with an all consuming ardor.
For SCU Law students, Dispersal Day came on Monday. When I went to the Bursar's Office, I was told I was among the unfortunate block of students whose checks were not to be printed until the next day (today). I now look forward to class with an enthusiasm that rarely applies, as I will make a stop at the Financial Aid office afterwards. From there, who knows? Maybe I'll get a nice steak. I'm kinda sick of ramen...
Happy Financial Aid Dispersal Day!
Monday, August 16, 2004
The return of responsibility
Well, school began today. I have four classes, three of which meet on Monday and Wednesday, one of which meets on Tuesday and Thursday. One of my M/W classes has decided to play spoiler, requiring sessions on Friday's too. Thus, though the hours aren't really unbearable, I am expected at class every day of the week. Plus, on M/W, I have one class scheduled much later than my other two, meaning I have to make two roundtrips on each of those days, or else wait out the long hours in the law library.
I have yet to find a place to live in Santa Clara, though my stalled search may prove serendipitous. Although I had already completed all the required paper work before the beginning of the term, the financial aid office has displayed a frustrating degree of incompetence. Thus, while I await the disbursal of my aid package, I am thoroughly and regrettably broke.
The first day of class went easy enough, boiling down to the same resuscitation of administrative minutiae and introductions delivered with varying degrees of friendliness at the start of every year. I am starting out the new term already behind, as the aforementioned fiduciary difficulties have precluded the purchase of textbooks and other materials, but as I have been promised my aid tomorrow, I have high hopes that the condition is temporary.
Though it has been gone for only one day, I already find myself missing the causal laziness of summer. I make no pretentions at any great aspirations beyond the preservation of my free time, which I treasure above any worldly possession. I have viewed the return of scholastic responsibility with a regret. I await my inevitable entry into the professional world with the same kind of dread, but magnified as it is by the fact that it will be a prison from which there are only three escapes. Death and old age, in decreasing order of preference, each hold their own problems, and the lottery is a statistical improbability to the extent where reliance upon it borders on delusion.
The only thing I fear more than school is work, and it is a matter of unspeakable personal tragedy that I will be able to escape neither.
I have yet to find a place to live in Santa Clara, though my stalled search may prove serendipitous. Although I had already completed all the required paper work before the beginning of the term, the financial aid office has displayed a frustrating degree of incompetence. Thus, while I await the disbursal of my aid package, I am thoroughly and regrettably broke.
The first day of class went easy enough, boiling down to the same resuscitation of administrative minutiae and introductions delivered with varying degrees of friendliness at the start of every year. I am starting out the new term already behind, as the aforementioned fiduciary difficulties have precluded the purchase of textbooks and other materials, but as I have been promised my aid tomorrow, I have high hopes that the condition is temporary.
Though it has been gone for only one day, I already find myself missing the causal laziness of summer. I make no pretentions at any great aspirations beyond the preservation of my free time, which I treasure above any worldly possession. I have viewed the return of scholastic responsibility with a regret. I await my inevitable entry into the professional world with the same kind of dread, but magnified as it is by the fact that it will be a prison from which there are only three escapes. Death and old age, in decreasing order of preference, each hold their own problems, and the lottery is a statistical improbability to the extent where reliance upon it borders on delusion.
The only thing I fear more than school is work, and it is a matter of unspeakable personal tragedy that I will be able to escape neither.
Sunday, August 15, 2004
The unbearable lightness of seeing
I spend some part of every day in the company of another world. It isn't really very far, and indeed it seems all the closer because it responds well to requests. A simple piece of glass is all that separates us, but even so I'll never be able to do more than watch it. I'm talking about television, but of course I mean more than just that. It's movies and photography too, Air Jordan's and MTV, everything from that exquisite universe of possibilities, and all the things of it that tell us we can come along.
On TV, the weather is always right. Meteorological conditions resulting not from jet streams or cold fronts, but instead from emotional imperatives. A glorious sun in triumph, darkness born of fear, rains for romance. Sound too follows the same dictates, conspiring to present along with visual effects and Hollywood's other discrete talents a world which runs on certainty rather than a chance. A place where the exigencies of even one person can rise to the sole concern of the entire universe. It is a place of manufactured perfection, one we know to be false, and yet all the more enjoyable because we can still think of it as ours.
I remember the first time I saw a photograph of Greta Garbo. That woman was long dead, a fate Greta herself would follow in time, but still the picture seemed to hold all the promise of life. We have become so talented in the sculpture of illusion, a craft where are molded those qualities we think the finest examples of humanity. A beautiful woman can look right through the glass, offer in her dulcet tones a confession of her love, and even though you know it isn't true, still you can feel the pull. In the movies, everything is important. All triumphs are magnificent and all defeats crushing, whether the scale balances all mankind or the difficulties of a single individual. It is such exquisite escapism, but it is more than simple fantasy. These displays, through those things in us they appeal to, become the promise of better things. It could be you.
There is a cruelty to the illusion, a bittersweet revelation around which the layers of fantasy entwine. We live our lives in our world, the real world insofar as we understand it, a place where we are only who we are. Now, that isn't necessarily such a bad thing. We can still have a good run as we drift through our lives, small triumphs all things considered, but all the more precious for being ours. It isn't my intention to sound decidedly pessimistic. I enjoy my life very much, that of it as has passed thus far, and there is some justification to expect even better in the future.
I enjoy those things produced for our entertainment very much. It is not my intention to decry the release offered by television. It's just that I know there are many things I'll never get to do. My life will probably be very good, but I'll never be President of the United States. I'll never negotiate peace with aliens, slay a dragon, or win the affection of a famous actress. It may even be the case that, if I could, I still may not want to do any of those things, but that I will likely never get the chance is disappointing.
On TV, the weather is always right. Meteorological conditions resulting not from jet streams or cold fronts, but instead from emotional imperatives. A glorious sun in triumph, darkness born of fear, rains for romance. Sound too follows the same dictates, conspiring to present along with visual effects and Hollywood's other discrete talents a world which runs on certainty rather than a chance. A place where the exigencies of even one person can rise to the sole concern of the entire universe. It is a place of manufactured perfection, one we know to be false, and yet all the more enjoyable because we can still think of it as ours.
I remember the first time I saw a photograph of Greta Garbo. That woman was long dead, a fate Greta herself would follow in time, but still the picture seemed to hold all the promise of life. We have become so talented in the sculpture of illusion, a craft where are molded those qualities we think the finest examples of humanity. A beautiful woman can look right through the glass, offer in her dulcet tones a confession of her love, and even though you know it isn't true, still you can feel the pull. In the movies, everything is important. All triumphs are magnificent and all defeats crushing, whether the scale balances all mankind or the difficulties of a single individual. It is such exquisite escapism, but it is more than simple fantasy. These displays, through those things in us they appeal to, become the promise of better things. It could be you.
There is a cruelty to the illusion, a bittersweet revelation around which the layers of fantasy entwine. We live our lives in our world, the real world insofar as we understand it, a place where we are only who we are. Now, that isn't necessarily such a bad thing. We can still have a good run as we drift through our lives, small triumphs all things considered, but all the more precious for being ours. It isn't my intention to sound decidedly pessimistic. I enjoy my life very much, that of it as has passed thus far, and there is some justification to expect even better in the future.
I enjoy those things produced for our entertainment very much. It is not my intention to decry the release offered by television. It's just that I know there are many things I'll never get to do. My life will probably be very good, but I'll never be President of the United States. I'll never negotiate peace with aliens, slay a dragon, or win the affection of a famous actress. It may even be the case that, if I could, I still may not want to do any of those things, but that I will likely never get the chance is disappointing.