RIP TTT

Last week I found out about a loss 'in the family'. While at the Milwaukee Public Museum I found out that they closed down the 'Temples, Tells and Tombs' exhibit. Permanently. Poor Djed-hor; homeless again.

Perhaps a side note before I continue: I usually go to the MPM at least a couple times a year. I have a membership. I can tell when things have been moved or changed. I'm a fan. It annoys me that there doesn't appear to be a website dedicated to documenting the general phases and changes of the museum; the sort of thing that would help me better recall my childhood memories of the place. I'd do it but I haven't the documentation. I do have a fuzzy memory but that's not much to go on.

For instance, I remember Djed-hor, our resident mummy (man I hope I'm spelling his name correctly) first residing on the first floor in an area that I believe was called 'The Rise of Civilization'. It was a thin, narrow area that covered thousands of years of history in maybe 100 yards. You started with mummies and by the back of it you were playing with a telephone display. As I recall, it didn't link to anything so, once you reached the end, you had to turn around and walk back the way you came. The area is now the Rain Forest exhibit and connects to the Third World exhibit (pre-history, dinosaurs and glaciers, that sort of thing) so you don't have to turn around like before.

The Third World was assembled in the middle 80's as I recall. The Rain Forest was set-up after that, opening in the early 90's I believe. As construction started on the Rain Forest, the 'Rise' exhibit was reassembled in a generic way on the second floor. I have a distinct memory of being in that area and seeing the humpbacked whale skeleton hanging from the ceiling (the skeleton that currently hangs in the entryway on the first floor, it was covered with lights for the holiday season) so it was being used as a catch-all area at the time. Since nothing else has been changed recently on the second floor, I have to believe that this was the exhibit area that would become 'Temples, Tells and Tombs' as well as an area for touring exhibits.

This would have opened in the early 90's. I have a video tape from a trip to the Museum from December 1992. As I walk into the area, I can clearly hear myself react in surprise, which tells me the exhibit was new to me then. It covered the periods when Egypt, Greece, Rome were world powers as well as having some stuff on the Middle East in general. The exhibit stayed largely unchanged during it's existence so that old tape is still a reasonably accurate document of the exhibit. In October 2007 when I visited the MPM, the exhibit was still open. Last week it was gone to provide more space for the touring exhibits.

Worse yet is that some of the cases from the exhibit are waiting to find permanent homes. The Roman Soldier is in the main entry area on the first floor. Our friend the mummy is sitting in the entryway to the Africa exhibit on the third floor now. There was an empty corner and he was crammed into it. It looks temporary so I can only hope it is. The fellow looks sad and homeless now. He's a squatter.

Tune in next time to more memories of the Milwaukee Public Museum. ;)

When Did I Get All Old?

Today's during-the-Packer-game lunch had some spicy food. Chief amongst these were some buffalo wings that were not immediately hot but warmed up nicely after a few moments. I'm not a big fan of hot that's hot for the sake of being hot as I prefer flavour to heat but these were good. I only had a couple or three. Ate too much, drank too much, went home and took a little nap.

Now my tummy is not so comfy. Worse yet, I'm not good company, even for myself. I don't remember this being a standard reaction to hot food so when did I get all old?

Ow.

Deep in the Tape Archive

Been digging extra deep in the tape archives of late in an attempt to convert as much of the old footage to DVD before it disintegrates. Some of it is close and barely plays back. Some of it doesn't play back. Some of it looks shockingly good for 15 year old tapes in SLP mode.

I ran across a couple tapes today that made me think 'Why am I bothering with this tape?' I mean, if I haven't watched 'The Stand' since the original broadcast, why bother keeping the tape? I'm not very interested in Stephen King's work anyway. I've also got a copy of 'Braveheart' from laserdisc. If I decide to watch that movie again, would I do it from tape? Nope. I'd probably spend the $7 to buy it or, better yet, borrow it from someone that has it.

You could probably make an argument against most of the tapes in the archive. I can't watch most of this stuff regularly and there's so much of it. Why bother with any of it? To that I answer with the 120 Minutes I'm currently watching/dubbing from 1995. I just got to see the Mighty Mighty Bosstones play live. Forgot I had that. That was nice.

Moments like that are why the archive exists and needs preserving. Most of it does anyway.

All Tied Up

I'm not sure who created the tie as an article of dress clothing but I'm going to guess it was a woman. As it's not a functional item, merely decorative, and uncomfortable, it strikes me as the sort of thing that would be created by a female out of revenge for all the frills and uncomfortable garments that they've often worn to look fancy. "The men look too comfortable," I'm sure one said. "Let's find them something so they'll squirm more."

"Why should I wear this extra piece of cloth?" that first man wondered aloud. "It's not covering up anything that's uncovered. It's just gives me an extra item to try matching the rest of my outfit and I'm already not good at that. What's the point?"

"It looks nice. It's pretty," he was reassured. "You want to look nice don't you?"

"I'm already married; I don't need to look any nicer than I do."

"You'll be a trendsetter. You'll become more important. It's important to me that you do well."

He grumbled, feeling his position quickly erode away. "Well, can I just loop it around my neck, kinda like a scarf?"

"Ye...No. No that won't do. You must knot it properly so it looks organized. You learned all those knots while in the Navy; isn't there one of those you could use to make it look nice?"

He choked. "This is really uncomfortable."

She smiled. "That's how you can tell it looks nice. It's like medicine; you can only tell it's working when it tastes horrible."

"I guess."

"Let's go. You'll be the talk of the town!"

I think the thing I hate most about ties is that I can't tie them. I like to think I'm a reasonably intelligent man but the method to make this work still eludes me. Even with pictures and instructions.

Stupid ties!

My Quest is (nearly) at an End

I cannot remember a time in my life without Godzilla. I have interests that I remember vaguely starting at one point or another and some interests that I remember starting with a certain point (like when I first saw the cover to ‘Doctor Who and the Cybermen’ and I became very curious about what it was) but, like the Muppets, I only remember the Godzilla switch being in the ‘on’ position.

I don’t know why this would be. The Muppets make sense as I know I watched Sesame Street so having early memories of them makes sense. My parents have no real fondness for Godzilla so it’s not like they’d have the movies on constantly. Is it just that I don’t remember the trigger point? That I don’t recall the moment when the normal childlike fascination with dinosaurs turned into a fascination with their fictional descendant? I suppose it’s not important when or why it started, the important thing is that the interest is still there.

When I was younger, I’d read about movies, knowing that I’d never have a chance to see most of them as I didn’t have cable or a VCR. Once I got a VCR, I started collecting tapes of things but knew I’d never get to see the Japanese versions of the Godzilla movies. When I started finding fansubbed bootlegs of the Japanese movies, I figured there was a chance I might be able to see them eventually. In the early days of DVD, there were only a handful of quality Godzilla DVDs amongst all the public domain junk. Now there are legitimate versions of most of the Godzilla films available on DVD that feature both the original Japanese versions of the film as well as the American edits. Wow.

After picking up the recently released Godzilla Collection (Classic Media’s box set of their previously released DVDs as well as two disks currently exclusive to the set) I looked at my shelf of Godzilla films and was shocked to realize that I have nearly all of them. There are a couple of the later films that I don’t have in the versions I’d like and a few I don’t have at all but I’m seriously close to having a copy of every Toho Godzilla film (yes I’m being very specific with that statement in order to indicate the fact that a certain film isn’t in the listing).

This is weird. My quest is almost at an end. I didn’t expect that would happen. Ever. Now, if they’d only release a quality widescreen version of ‘Godzilla vs. Megalon’ I’d be all set.

They've got what now?

I just saw an ad for McDonalds offering their new sweet tea.

McDonalds is offering tea.

This... this creeps me out.

Puttering around

A couple weeks ago I was helping my buddy George move his family. He’d borrowed a big truck with a lift gate on it and his young sons absolutely loved the fact that this thing went up and down. Any time we needed to move it, they wanted to ride on it. They would have been happy if we’d done nothing but raise and lower the gate while they were on it. They stayed camped out on the edge of the gate so that they wouldn’t miss the opportunity for a ride.

This all made George nervous as they were always near one edge or the other. If not that, they were in the way. He worked to communicate this to them but received the innocent confused “Why?” in response. Recalling similar events from my childhood, I replied something to the effect of “When you’re younger, all you can see is the fun in a situation. As you grow up, you tend to see all the bad things that could happen.” It was strange to have words come out of my mouth that sounded intelligent, patient and lacked sarcasm. I didn’t know I had it in me.

Anyway, that’s how I feel about traveling. I like being other places but traveling by myself to other places makes me nervous. I tend to focus on all the bad things that could happen. Last weekend I drove up to Stevens Point to visit my friends that live there. It’s not that long a drive; only about two and a half hours. Preparing for it, all I can think of is flat tires and engine trouble. I chew gum with speed and agitation the whole way there. In all the times I’ve driven up there, I’ve never had a problem. I figure I’m due.

Making the situation more nerve wracking for me is the fact that I tend to go up to Point in late Fall early Winter. It’s generally cold. It becomes a tension modifier. It’s one thing to have the car break down; it’s another thing to anticipate a breakdown in freezing temperatures.

A few years ago, I flew to Japan to visit friends. Due to the length of the trip, I made my peace with myself before departing, just in case I didn’t come back. I decided that I could ‘live’ with the idea of not surviving the trip (hey, planes crash, it happens) but I hoping I would because I didn’t want my friends to feel guilty, as if I was dead because I came to visit them and it was their fault. Everything went well.

When I travel with people, I don’t have the same concerns. I think it’s because the weight’s not just on me. If the car breaks down, I’m there with someone. We can distract each other while waiting for help or work together to fix the problem. It’s not all on me anymore.

So, long story short, I had a good time in Stevens Point with my friends. Even with the snowstorm on Saturday that made driving interesting as we went to dinner. No snow on Friday and we got pizza. Saturday it snows and we go out. Aren’t we dumb? Wait, don’t answer that.

It was almost an 'urge to kill rising' moment

A true test of one’s patience is to be in a busy grocery store, standing in the self-checkout lane and watching people try to interface with the technology in front of them. They keep these things very simple so you’d think that someone that was apparently able to successfully dress themselves and drive to the store could figure it out without a great deal of coaching. That is not always the case.

Part of the problem is that some of the people who try to do this don’t appear to be comfortable with technology in general. If you can’t program your VCR yourself, don’t bother trying the self check-out line. I refer to the older woman that was in front of me yesterday. She looked very confused the whole time and had no real idea what she was looking at on the machine. I felt bad and tried to help her out a little. It’s entirely likely that she couldn’t read the screen clearly or had issues following the voice prompts but, if that’s the case, why get in that line? That’s the decision that confused me. It really wasn’t that much shorter than the other lines.

That was the unfortunate part of the process. I gravitate to the self check-out lines because they are shorter. I took a chance on them once when the store wasn’t busy and learned what I had to learn then. A crowded store is not the time to line up to take a chance like that. Especially when then slows down the rest of the line. That’s just not nice to the rest of the group.

I mean, I got English Muffins to buy…

Loved to Hate that Phone

The mobile phone that I’ve had for the past couple years has never worked very well. The research I’d done, both online and with people I knew that owned said phone, indicated that it was a solid model phone. I always had issues with mine. The original phone I received got stuck in a loop rebooting about nine months after I bought it. The warranty replaced it and the replacement worked okay for a month or two until it started to flake out in the same way the first phone had done. As it continued to function well enough to use, I decided to put off replacing it until my service contract ran out. I’m also willing to be nice and argue that the model phone may have been good at one point and I lucked into getting a few crummy items from near the end of the production run. It could happen.

Sunday night the screen went dead on the phone. This was nice as it prevented me from seeing text messages or my phone book or seeing what buttons I’d hit on the phone, you know, all those things that make a phone really functional. Had I received a call, I could still answer it but I didn’t receive any. Monday night I stopped in the AT&T store nearest the house and picked out a new phone. As part of the swap-over, they were able to transfer my contacts from the old phone to the new phone. This pleased me.

When I got home I realized that they had only been able to swap my numbers from the SIM of my old phone. All the numbers I called the most were saved on my actual phone, you know, the one with the broken display. This was a problem.

A-ha! In the months soon after getting the now-broken phone, I’d gotten a copy of the mobile tools application from an intern friend of mine. While cleaning up the night before, I’d seen the cable I’d need to connect the phone to my computer. After a few minutes of searching, I found the cable, found the application, reinstalled it to a computer, attached the phone, downloaded the drivers for the modem in the mobile device and opened my phonebook. Bam! There everything was laid out before me. There may have been an easier way to do it but, since the phonebook in the new phone is laid out slightly differently than the old phone, I just reentered all the data by hand.

There’s a moment of panic when you lose your phonebook. Events years in the past had conspired to save me in a moment of crisis. Hooray the past!

Just something twisted in my brain I guess

Why have I been treating old bootleg tapes with the respect due a prerecorded tape? Is it the bulky plastic case that makes them feel special? They're not. They're just a dub of an old tv broadcast or converted PAL tape. Mostly worthless.

Now that it looks like I've fixed my DVD recorder, they're not even that.

It's not every man that can pull off a Decorative Vegetable

Busy, busy, busy.

Helping my buddy move his family out to Brookfield. Trying to get my back in shape again. Working to clean up the homestead (aka, reducing the piles that grow). And writing, let's not forget the writing.

I got to the end of yesterday and was unclear as to why I was in such a good mood (who said whiskey! I heard you, whoever you were, you'll get nothing past me). I was sore, not so much from helping the Gentekis' move but more from wrestling with the three children for a couple hours. I forget sometimes how children don't run out of energy. I do. Best workout you can get. While sore, my back didn't hurt as it has for the past month or so. That brightened my day. The Children in Need Doctor Who special helped as well.

I guess it's all in the attitude. I was starting to feel very down late last week but a day or so without hurting (in that way) and I can feel more like myself. Good times...

TV is dead and Movies are on life support

A possibility due to the writer's strike:

The writers win the advances they are seeking. (Considering there are reports indicating that the union is the most united they've ever been, it's quite possible that they'll get what they want.) However, the delay in the television season due to the length of the strike negatively impacts ratings. Popular shows return with weak ratings. New shows that networks had reasons to hope would become franchises wither and die upon their return. The younger demographics are the hardest hit as 'the kids' have found other things to do. Network television as we've know it dies quickly rather than slowly (as expected) as the former powerhouses become havens of 'reality' programming, repeats and rebroadcasting programmes originally found on the internet.

Movie producers, now having less money to gamble with, gravitate further towards remakes of older movies and televisions shows, pumping out less creative product by the moment. The bubbling independent movie scene (aka non-union workers) becomes more visible again. The more commercially creative of these are soon courted by the surviving studios to become union and join them. Some do but many chose to remain independent, releasing their new works on-line for donations from their viewers.

It's not impossible. It's largely what I believe is coming with or without the strike. The strike may just speed up the process. Not unlike Radiohead's influence on the breakdown of the influence of the music labels.

It may not be that bad a thing.

Bad driving

You'd think with me being on vacation this week I'd have more time to blog. But I don't.

I think every driver on the road occasionally does something stupid on occasion. It stands to reason that at some point you'll be in an unfamiliar area, misread a sign and make a left turn where you shouldn't. That's my excuse for what happened Monday morning and I'm sticking to it. Luckily there was no oncoming traffic and I was able to fix the situation promptly. I'd feel worse about it except when I was leaving a half-hour later I saw someone else making the same mistake.

Some people can get away with a sight amount of interference when they drive. I'm not an expert driver (not like George or my buddy Nate that I haven't seen in forever; those fellows can drive!) but occasionally I'll take a phone call or eat while I'm driving. It's not a good choice but I've done it. The other day I saw a woman driving on the freeway while on the phone. She was also apparently in a hurry cause she was going far too fast and having issues staying in her lane. These are bad choices.

I don't really have a moral to this story or anything. I just think Americans take driving as a right and not a privilege sometimes. That's a problem.

I'd think about this harder but 'Kenan and Kel' is on Noggin right now. I've never seen the show before but it's very good and is distracting me. It has remnants of the 50's comedies I love so. Later.

Smasher grabs the stick

The other day I went to the public museum for this thing. I knew that I could walk around in the hood without having to show my wrestling license every few minutes and there aren't many times I can do that so I take advantage of them when I can. I grabbed a bag from the stash of pretzel rods and headed off.

I got addicted to pretzel rods when I went to work for Junior in the 80s. He told me that the cigars I usedta smoke weren't kid friendly enough and suggested I switch to pretzel rods in public since I had a habit of gesturing with the cigar during a promo and I needed something for that. It worked out well. I stopped smoking altogether which was good. No matter what else he and I may have had happen between us, I haveta thank him for that.

I wore my 'LWO' shirt instead of my normal one. I worked for WCW for a year, appeared on television a whole, what, five times maybe, and have this shirt to show for it. They hired me for the nostalgia effect and wanted me to not have the pretzel rod in my mouth when I talked. Idiots. I did get a year to do little else but recuperate so that was nice.

Anyway, I went to the museum to walk around, have some fun, entertain the kids a little, nothing fancy. Occasionally a kid would see me and his eyes would light up with excitement. It made me happy to know that I was brightening someone's day; that someone saw the faded star that I am and was still happy to see me.

Every single onea them kids called me Rey Mysterio.

Now, I know we both wear hoods but they look totally different. Besides, he's a little guy and I'm a big outta shape bruiser from the old days. We aint twins.

I suppose I should be happy they thought I was someone who's a big name. It could be worse. Still, it stung a little to be forgotten. I aint wrestled in a long time and I'm aint in any shape to start again but, for a moment last night, I wanted to get back in the ring and show them who the Smasher is and what I can do.

But I shouldn't.

Chivalry is dead

The following story is true. Some of the names have been changed to protect the ignorant.

As I stumbled free from the embrace of the weird inflated trap, I realized that I was also free of the house, the house of fear and horror. Despite the fact that I was heading down a dirt ramp, I did nothing to slow my pace. It seemed logical to me that, while I had escaped the house, I may not have yet escaped the inhabitants of that house. I didn’t slacken my speed until I’d caught up with George and Amy. There, some distance away from the house, we could safely giggle and discuss the creepy joy we’d experienced while waiting for the rest of our group.

I watched as the next group emerged from the house and was confused slightly when that group was not the remainder of our friends. I was also confused by the lack of attack upon exit. It was such a perfect location for a surprise that I could not understand using it.

A few moments later, another group emerged and this was our friends. They loudly laughed and giggled the remainder of their fear away. Then, suddenly, my theories were proved correct. From the shadows of the exit sprang a masked individual with a loud running chainsaw. Relaxation was replaced by one last blast of fright. With a burst of ‘feet don’t fail me now’, young Larry ran, instinctively abandoning the young lady that he had accompanied through the house in order to protect her. In the moment of truth, he had failed in his task, leaving her to the madman’s whims.

Chivalry is dead.

What If?

We all play the 'What If?' game at some point. 'What If I'd lived in this city instead of that one?' 'What If I'd gone to this school?''What If I'd moved out sooner/later/not broken up with/etc?' It can be a useful tool to see where you want to move forward with your life.

The weird part about it is that we're not very good at the game. Certain changes aren't accounted for and other variables cannot be calculated. For instance, I've been typing up a story I wrote in middle school. It was set in the future which is now the past. It's interesting to see what I predicted, how little understanding I had of certain things (like technology) and that all my friends in the story are people I knew at the time in middle school. It was as if I expected to know those people the rest of my life. That said, I do still have contact with people I knew in middle school. In the past couple weeks I realized that I'd bumped into someone I was pals with in middle school. Neither of us realized we knew each other at the time. Weird how that works sometimes.

I guess my point is that we (or at least I guess I do) generally expect certain things to remain constant. Certain good things in our lives shouldn't go away so we don't, or can't, picture those changes. Friends moving away, buildings burning down, businesses closing; these things shouldn't happen to the good things in our lives but sometimes they do. It's not the change we want but sometimes it's the change that happens.

Last night we played 'What If?' a few times. 'What If we all move to Colorado?' 'What If George had played high school football?' 'What If Katy and Eric's son marries George and Amy's daughter?' Looking forward and looking back. What would change? What would be the same?

I have the feeling of great change yet ahead of me. Change in and of itself doesn't bother me like it once did. I hate change for the sake of change, changes made in an effort to 'look busy'. At least one big something is going to change for me soon, perhaps a couple somethings. There's rumblings afoot and I've no clue to what level it will alter things. That's the problem with rumblings. They are indistinct by nature.

One thing I have no interest in letting change is my writing and by that I mean that I have no interest in stopping. It would be too fundamental a change and I don't like what I 'see' of that me. If that means this blogging thing stays weekly for the time being while I work on everything else, that's not a problem for me.

I wonder what's going to happen. What Then?

Change and not a Moment Too Soon

Within the past couple weeks, Radiohead announced plans to release their new album under a 'pay what you want' plan, Nine Inch Nails announced freedom from their music label and Madonna signed with a concert promoter rather than a traditional music label. The music industry is seeing some big changes and the traditional music labels are on the outside of the process for a change.

The interesting thing to see out of this 'pay what you want' concept is how much money will these bands state they've made off this model. How will it compare to what they made under the music companies? In a store like Best Buy, a big new release might be $11 -$12 bucks but the average CD is $13-15. In the mall (why would you go to the mall to shop for music?) they tended to be $17-18.

How much of that went to the artist? I remember reading the breakdown at one point but can't recall what it was anymore. I know it's not much. Maybe $2 a CD? If I download an album from the artist and kick them $5 via Paypal, it's still cheaper than iTunes to me. I feel happy, the artist feels happy (technically they just made a $3 profit). Win-win. Most of that money went back to the label to pay for the recording studio time, video shoots and any other money the label advanced them so it's likely that, in most cases, the band never saw any money from CD sales. It sounds like a modern day form of indentured servitude.

Every year I go to Irish Fest with the goal of buying at least one CD while I'm there as the artists come with disks. I know they'll be $15-18 but I do it anyway. Why? These bands tend to be on smaller labels. I always feel I'm helping that band directly as opposed to feeding some big corporate machine that will use my cash to promote the winner of some reality show as a performer. Given the chance to easily download the tracks directly from the artist and know that my money is going right to them... how could I not want that?

I have the feeling this is going to turn around faster than people think. There will still be CDs in stores for awhile now (most people aren't that technologically comfortable yet) but the power of the recording industry will disappear quicker than they expect. Look at the Catholic Church one hundred years ago and compare it to today. They're still around but it's not the respected powerhouse it once was.

I also think it will create more jobs than it displaces. A big corporation has to keep things streamlined for their stockholders. A band will need a tech guy or two to run their website and make sure the downloads happen cleanly and the money comes in safety. Some bands might team up to do this but they'll have the option of doing it on their own terms. Whatever they pay that tech guy or team won't even come close to the amount of money one CEO that hasn't liked music since 1957 makes in a year.

On the whole, I think that's a good thing. Viva la revolucion!

Something to do tonight

Took a day of vacation Friday. Got busy as right away as possible (object in motion tends to stay in motion) and managed to look through a good chunk of the video tape portion of the archive, looking for tapes that could be removed as they had been upgraded to DVD versions. Didn't pull out too many but found a few that were close. There's a lot of interesting stuff in there that I tend to forget about. Converting the stuff that will 'never' see a DVD release (or stuff I don't mind having but won't pay for) is a project I'm already testing. I'm curious to see if I can encode them as files for storage rather than burn them as video DVDs. Well, most of the stuff anyway. Most of it was recorded in SLP anyway so it's not great quality items.

Took a walk and Friday night activities were called off. Watched a movie that's been waiting to be seen for a few years. It ('She-Devils on Wheels') was okay.

Ended up sitting around most of Saturday. Friday's walk had tightened up my back. Not enough stretching. Managed to loosen it up enough to be comfortable again. Saturday night's plans were also called off. Finally left the homestead to get some snacks that I still haven't touched, got some Wendy's and then curled up at home with another movie ('The Astro-Zombies') which was less than okay. Very padded. I got some typing done during it so that was okay. I've got 25 pages on the long version of the 'Fresh Fiction for Friday' tale and it's nowhere near done.

Now it's Sunday. Did some outlining for the long 'FFfF'. Batman's on the TV and the Packers play the Bears tonight. Just waiting for the fun to start. 'Quiet' weekends aren't always a bad thing. I've got next Friday off as well. I'm looking forward to that weekend and hoping it's not overbooked...

Too many comics?

The past few weeks have been a combination of being sick and busy. Once my time and energy started to come together again, I returned to some of my less taxing projects in an effort to keep things moving. I started sorting and bagging my comics to put them away into storage. I soon realized that this was a stupid project to pick up for being ‘non-taxing’ as comic book long boxes are heavy when they’re near full. Geeks don’t need dumbbells when they have long boxes to move back and forth.

Negotiating around the stuff in the archive to get to my comics, a thought occurred to me that I never thought I would have: I may have too many comics.

To a comics fan the reason why I never expected to think that thought is obvious: there is no such thing as too many comics. From simply a space perspective, I seem to have hit a limit. Realistically, I probably hit that limit and passed it a couple years ago. There are two basic solutions to this situation: get more room to store my books or get rid of some of my books.

Indeed, the situation is more complicated than those simple options. There are specific issues or stories that I possess in multiple editions. I made a comment along those lines to my buddy Al the other day. Discussing the storyline ‘Doctor Who – The Iron Legion’, I know I have at least three copies of it: the original ‘Doctor Who Weekly’ issues, the colorized American reprints of the eighties as well as a high quality reprint from just a couple years ago. It’s being recolorized and reprinted again. Since its Doctor Who, I’ll probably buy it again.

Do I ‘need’ multiple editions of a story, as good as it may be? No, probably not. This is the sort of thing that seems to hit more often with DVDs; having multiple special editions that contain sufficient different content so the temptation is to possess both versions.

To the non-collector mentality, all this sounds foolish I’m sure. Why own a DVD that you can rent and return? Why worry about multiple editions when it the story that’s important? Have it once, if at all. Just understand that I am a collector, it’s a sickness and I know it. It’s all stuff that generates happy chemical reactions in my brain.

Lumped into all this is the rise of digital comics, scanned copies of books that are available in legal and illegal versions. I could replace most of my collection with digital copies. Would I rid myself of the physical copies of my books if I did? Honestly, in most cases I’m sure I wouldn’t. There’s a special feeling to having some of these originals that doesn’t come with having a nice reprint or a digital copy. I have legal digital copies of the first 500 issues of the Amazing Spider-Man. Does that compare to having issue #60 from the sixties in my hand to read? No. There’s a feeling, a history, a scent even that comes from that physical item.

At the same time, there are a number of books that I could comfortably replace with digital scans, a nice reprint or only having one copy. The big question is: Does that situation already exist with some books? Is there anything I could clear out for space? Hopefully.

A brief note to the city of Boston

Twice now people have gotten arrested in Boston for having bomb related equipment but no bomb. Essentially anyone walking around with wires has been arrested for having a bomb.

What do I know about Boston? Tea party, interesting accent, crummy beer, setting of an overrated 80's sitcom that spun off an even more overrated 90's sitcom.

Boston, just because you're on the East Coast it doesn't mean you're a target. You come across like a little brother trying to please an older sibling, hoping to 'do good'.

There's a difference between vigilance and paranoia. This comes across like paranoia.

There's nothing wrong with not being tier one. Milwaukee's not tier one. We're tier two at best, maybe three. At least our beer is better than Boston's. Any day. Dunno about our tv shows. 'Cheers' may be overrated but I don't know that it was 'worse' than 'Happy Days'.

Whatever.

Another flashback DVD review written...2002 again?

'Doctor Jekyll and Sister Hyde' – 1971

Story in Brief: Our story is told primarily in flashback, reviewing the situation so that we may learn from Doctor Jekyll's experiments into prolonging life. The potion he develops to extend his existence uses female hormones and has the unfortunate side effect of turning the individual who takes the potion into a female because of it. His 'sister' Hyde is significantly less restrained than he is, which leads into all sorts of trouble and confusion, especially when Jekyll starts to fall in love with a young lady and Hyde begins to pursue her brother.

Thoughts:

I really had low expectations going into this movie. The title, while grandly clever, does conjure up thoughts of a rather cheap exploitation flick. What I watched was a surprisingly clever construction of a film. While the title points you rather accurately towards 'Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde' the movie also weaves in the tales of Burke and Hare as well as Jack the Ripper. The resulting mix was probably years ahead of it's time. The movie also progresses surprisingly logically, the tension and action building as the film moves along. In all fairness, if I woke up tomorrow morning to find I was suddenly a female one of my first acts would likely be to give my new naked form a look-see.

Ralph Bates is a great Jekyll and I've getting the feeling he's been a very underrated actor for years. Offhand I only recollect him in this, 'Horror of Frankenstein' and 'Lust for a Vampire' and he was excellent in all of them. Martine Bestwick is equally excellent as Hyde. Creepily enough the two leads do look like they could be related, perhaps brother and sister so the casting is excellent, inspired even.

The film looks excellent with minimal flaws to distract the eye. The sound wasn't anything special, but didn't sound tinny or faded either.

This film is part of Anchor Bay's Hammer Collection. They snuck three films into the collection in late 2001 and these films were at a lower price point than the majority of the films in the Hammer Collection. I'm not sure if this was due to these films having fewer extras that the earlier films or if Anchor Bay simply revised their pricing structure. Eitherway the decreased price of this film led me to scoop it up more quickly than most of its fellow collection mates. I was not disappointed.

Highly recommended.

Letter - p.s.

I don't normally do this sort of thing, but I thought it was interesting that this sort of thing should explode during the release of my letter last week:

http://www.washingtonpost.com/wp-dyn/content/article/2007/08/30/AR2007083001834.html

Updated information points to at least 13 wrestlers getting suspended due to violations of the WWE Wellness Policy and one former performer, now a member of the backstage management, has already been fired.

Mr. McMahon, I think this only proves the point further that something radical might be called for to adjust things.

-Steve

Letter completion

Of course, I’m no business major. I admit I’m just a fan and this is just a thought. It’s a way to help new performers before putting them on live TV. It’s a way to reduce travel time for the performers so that they can spend more time at home. It’s a way for performers to rest themselves and heal up. At the same time, I believe there is an opportunity to make money while doing this.

This is an opportunity to really have a division between the brands. This is an opportunity to tell some different stories. This is an opportunity to do something visible for the wellness of the performers. This is an opportunity to get some attention, a buzz, around the business by doing something radical, something different. Obviously it doesn’t need to permanent and in five, ten or twenty years, maybe it’ll be time to be different again and reform the big touring groups again.

Eitherway, it’s just a thought.

Thank you for your time sir,

-Stephen M. Wolterstorff

Letter continued

I’ve watched a number of ‘shoot’ interviews with older wrestlers, many of which worked in the territory system. Many of them expressed the same thought; that they learned more about the business during the car ride to the next town than they did in the ring. In these days of iPods and Gameboys and such, I wouldn’t expect that a car ride with a mix of veterans and new guys would necessarily lead to an educational conversation. My hope would be that each territory would act as a smaller classroom. I am sure that this sort of guidance is occurring in the current set up. In the relatively smaller ‘classroom’ of the territory, a new performer could receive more one on one training, receive less conflicting advice and work on that council. Once a newer performer has had a chance to learn in one area, he or she can be moved to another region, gain guidance from another set of veterans and add the one set of advice to the next, rather than get all the differing views at once, building up their own style based on all their training.

This may work towards repairing one of the primary problems I’ve personally had with your current product. I’ve seen a number of young men in recent years receive pushes that their skill level cannot match; young men that often have talent but aren’t clear how to use it. On the other side of the equation are a number of battered veterans, men who have had exceptional careers, men who no doubt have a love for the business, men who can still entertain a crowd, men who can get a pop just from their entrance music but are also men that probably shouldn’t be working the schedules they are working. How much longer until the majority of the upper card retires? One year? Two? How many will survive another five? How many of the new guys will be ready to fill those gaps when the time comes? I’m not saying that things can’t work out in their current configuration but I think they’d work better in this suggested configuration.

Restoring the territories should also reduce the amount of travel. I don’t know if the ‘E’ pays for all the plane tickets or if the wrestlers pay for their own transport. From a purely monetary standpoint, the territories should reduce costs. Increased car travel and gas expenses, yes but less plane travel and fewer hotel stays due to more time spent at home should more than balance that. With teleconferencing being so easy and relatively inexpensive, you could check in with every territory on a daily basis and never leave your office.

Letter continued

This would require some changes to the presentation of the shows. My thought was to have RAW live from one region in its league each week, rotating between the three regions in the RAW league. Footage would be presented from the other two regions during the show to keep viewers up-to-date on their storylines. As Smackdown is currently a taped show, it could just become a digest of its three regions, perhaps giving it an ESPN Sportscenter type feel.

This may result in an overflow of recorded matches in each region. This could be utilized in syndicated programming available only in that region. In an effort to defray the cost of syndication, these shows could be made available for sale on DVD or, better yet, available for download for a fee. Hardcore wrestling fans will be keen to check out detailed events from other regions or to follow their favourite wrestler. This would be a good way to get into iTunes or something similar.

This process would also allow for more dark matches, more opportunities for newer wrestlers to solidify their abilities in front of a crowd without having to worry about television or ratings. It would further mingle the house show and the televised programming. Since the regions wouldn’t generally be in direct competition with each other, it could mean recording Smackdown’s programming over a weekend and airing them during the week. Currently, news of what will be aired on Smackdown is available on the Internet as soon as the show is recorded on Tuesday. With this new plan, the results of those shows would no doubt still appear on-line but no one would know what matches would make air.

The question pf Pay Per Views is an important one as I know this is a great source of cash. Two paths show promise in my eyes. One gamble is to cut the PPVs to the big four: Wrestlemania, Summerslam, Survivor Series and the Royal Rumble. These are the PPVs with history and are the ones that the more casual fans will gravitate towards, feeling these are the important ones. If these are the only opportunity to see the entire roster together, they’ll attract further attention and, hopefully, an increased buyrate just from that. Also, with only four shows to purchase in a year, the average fan may be more inclined to purchase them all.

On the other hand, that is putting all the eggs in one basket. As there are six regions, each could have their own PPV in between the big four. If the big four are evenly spaced three months apart there could be a single region based PPV every other week. If this option is preferable, I would recommend making them two hours long and $20-$25. This differentiates them from the big four and may encourage more buys.

It also seems clear to me that each individual region will have a smaller crowd than the average RAW or Smackdown taping attracts. Yet, each region could certainly draw part of that expectation. In this way, if one region becomes weak or burned out, it can be balanced by the others. Performers that may have worn out their welcome in one region can be ‘fired’ or ‘traded’ to another region, building storylines from the movement, similar to what occurs now.

In specific area, this will result in ‘smaller’ numbers, but, due to the increased number of possibilities, to the increased number of shows every night, it could increase business overall.

Letter continued

I said it was a big idea but let’s think about it before dismissing it as too big.

By ‘break up’ I don’t mean ‘shut down’ or ‘dismantle’ but I do mean breaking up the massive touring groups that RAW and Smackdown have become and turning them into smaller groups covering specific area of the country; in other words: territories. I recommend breaking both RAW and Smackdown into 3 groups each, making six regions in all. Speaking very generally, this would probably break down into the NorthEast, Mid-Atlantic and Midwest for RAW and the Pacific Northwest, Texas (Southwest) and Mid South for Smackdown. What about ECW? I would suggest moving it to Canada. Since you now own many of the old territory names, perhaps some of those could be reused. Texas could be WCCW, perhaps the Midwest referred to as the AWA, maybe Canada as Stampede and so on. While this would not be necessary, it would be a nice nod to the past and could stimulate DVD sales for footage of the original territories.

I would recommend a separate booking committee for each territory that would be based in that area. You have many individuals on your payroll that used to work these territories when they last existed and have some understanding of the variations of interest in each area. Place Dusty Rhodes and Ric Flair in charge of the Mid-Atlantic region, Roddy Piper in the Pacific Northwest and so on. All these groups would report back to the main offices in Connecticut and would get their general guidance from there. Picture the challenge: trying to keep six (or seven) territories running separate storylines while still building them all to a common storyline.

Common storyline? Of course we can’t dismiss the big four Pay Per Views as they are there for a reason and they rake in the biggest buy rates. The storylines begin to build themselves for some of these shows: tournaments challenging to qualify for the few spots each region gets to send to the Royal Rumble, qualifying to send a team to the Survivor Series and so on.

Let’s follow this concept through a year. Let’s say Mr. X is a mid carder in the Midwest region. He wins a tournament to qualify for the King of the Ring tournament to be held at Summerslam. He doesn’t win but does make it to the finals. He returns to his region elevated enough to challenge for belts and is encouraged to assemble a team for the Survivor Series. He is seen observing many matches he doesn’t participate in before selecting a five man team which includes Gran Kuma, a man that defeated him the week before. One of Mr. X’s friends, Rappin’ Red Smith, is offended that he wasn’t selected for Mr. X’s team so he assembles a team of his own, jockeying to take the Survivor Series position. Battles between the teams culminate in a Survivor Series preview match, which Mr. X’s team wins. At the Survivor Series, Mr. X survives to the Final Survival Match. He doesn’t win but Gran Kuma does. This provides the region with an advantage in the Royal Rumble, guaranteeing that one of the Rumble qualifiers from that region will receive a low number entry (somewhere between 25-30, if we specify 30 it would shutdown storytelling in the other regions). Struggling to qualify for the Rumble begins almost immediately, highlighted by Mr. X and Gran Kuma battling. Both qualify for the Rumble. In a ceremony at the PPV, Mr. X pulls number four whereas Gran Kuma receives twenty-eight. As normal, the Rumble is a long battle. Mr. X and Gran Kuma are in the final four. Mr. X eliminated Gran Kuma and goes on to win, earning a shot at the WWE World Title at Wrestlemania. Gran Kuma accuses Mr. X of cheating to win and manipulates events so that Mr. X is willing to put his title shot on the line in a match. Mr. X wins, finally decisively defeating Gran Kuma and earning his respect. Mr. X goes onto Wrestlemania knowing that winning the title will mean touring the world, defending the belt in region after region until he is defeated.

Obviously every region would have different main storylines and each region would probably have a number of smaller storylines running through them. This is just A general storyline path idea.

Continuing the Letter

Mr. Vincent Kennedy McMahon Jr.

Sir,

Allow me a few moments of introduction so that you can grasp my perspective on this matter. I’m in my thirties and have been interested in wrestling for about twenty years. My first real exposure to the sport was your syndicated ‘Superstars of Wrestling’ programme. For a few years I fed my interest with that, ‘Saturday Night’s Main Event’ and the reading of your magazine. I grew weary of the formula of the program and jumped to WCW where I found the wrestling to be more technically inclined. Over the years I bounced back and forth, often returning to your product. I own over 250 wrestling related DVDs, many of which are your product and that doesn’t touch on the magazines, books, figures, etc that I own or the cards I’ve attended. I think it’s safe to refer to me as a fan that makes a modest but regular ‘donation’ to your coffers.

With that said, the last couple months have been especially rough, haven’t they sir? The bad publicity, the increased scrutiny, the whole circus around the Benoit situation has been a problem. Public opinion is including the industry as part of the problem leading to the tragedy, blaming all sorts of things whether or not they were an influence.

Before we continue, let me make one thing perfectly clear: this letter is not meant to try to understand or blame anyone for the situation or any other wrestler that has gotten ill or died. I am NOT here to blame you for everything or anything that has ever gone wrong in wrestling. There’s no point in that blame game.

However, we must face facts. Ratings have been down. This may well be the summer lull or it could be a sign that even the hardcore fans are starting to abandon the product. The government has already been pestering you regarding the wellness policy. Business is weak at the moment and, it could be argued, has been weak for some time.

You need something to stir things up, to challenge your creativity. Historically you’ve done your best work when you’ve been challenged. Additionally you need to do something for the benefit for the workers’ health or, at the very least, something that looks good. For it to work, it needs to be something big, as anything less will be treated as ‘nothing’, a token effort. Isn’t that what some critics have called the current wellness program?

With all that in mind, I do have a suggestion.

I think you should break up the WWE.

An Open Letter

An Open Letter to Vincent Kennedy McMahon Jr.

Dear Vince,

Oh, that sounds far too familiar; let me try that again.

Dear Mr. McMahon,

No, wait, that’s the name of your character and your character is dead. Was dead? Pretended to be dead. Whatever.

Dear Junior,

Definitely can’t start like that; it’s so disrespectful.

Starting over tomorrow.

Sunday was a new day and almost as wet as the old day had been. Considering that it wasn't raining constantly and that I had $20 in beer tickets, I had to go back. So I did, despite the fact that my feet had gotten badly blistered from the first two days and walking had grown painful.

Once inside I made a beeline for the Sprecher Beer booth, the nearest beer to the entrance I'd used. Instinctively, the accent kicked in and I asked for beer. "Could I have a Stout please?" The lady on the other side of the counter asked me to repeat myself so I did, a bit louder the second time, figuring she couldn't hear me. She smiled as she reached for a glass. She expressed her amusement for the way I'd expressed myself and asked to hear it one more time. I obliged. She had an accent as well. "Where are you from?" she asked as she pulled my beer. "Here," I responded simply. She seemed rather disappointed at that.

Wandering around by myself at Irish Fest is fun but I often find it hard to get settled, even with my feet bothering me. I visited the Rock Stage for an acoustic set that turned out to be the final performance at that stage. After listening to Scythian for a few songs, I went and bought one of their CDs. Under the circumstances, they were working hard to get the crowd to enjoy themselves and I wanted to reward that however I could. The CD is quite good as well.

Eric's clan was still all wet from the night before and weren't coming. As that news came during a spattering of rain, I didn't blame them. I hobbled around and finished my quests for the year: bought a CD (as already noted), had a baked potato, had my tea and shamrock cookie and listened to a few more bands for a bit.

As I wandered and listened, I had a moment. Irish music is so full of passion, full of life, even for the bad things in life, that it can't help but raise the spirits. Even in the rain, there was joy. It's as if the music asks "What's your problem? Ah, that's not so bad. Have a bit of a drink and realize that life will go on. Until it doesn't anymore. No point in worrying about anything too much. You'll just hurt yourself. Relax, have a bit of fun and enjoy yourself. Trouble will catch up with you soon enough and you'll have something new that's not worth worrying about."

Well, the longer songs ask that anyway.

After a few hours and the spending of the majority of my drink tickets, the rain started to come back. I took it as a hint and headed for home.

It had been a good time.

     Saturday started off rainy. This was a problem as a lot of Irish Fest is outside and my other plans for earlier in the day involved being mostly outside as well. The rain didn't stop but had slowed by the time I headed for the Summerfest Grounds at about 3:30. When I arrived at 4, the rain had stopped, just in time for my arrival. As a result, I felt a little smug. As I was expecting the rain to stop (why? I don't know) I didn't dress for the weather, being in my normal thin overshirt and no jacket or anything.

     I arranged to bump into Callie and her friends for a bit. We did our best to catch up with one another, drink a bit and be silly, all about normal. They'd been at the Fest since open and were therefore a little tired and wet already. They left around 5, promising to return later and hoping I'd since be around. As they left, the rain returned. This time, it wouldn't leave.

     This was a problem as the rain influenced the beer within me to want to left me on a speedier basis than normal. While I hid in the Irish Entertainers test and watched a video about Irish rock bands, I kept having to dash into the rain in order to visit the bathroom. This quickly got annoying. I also nipped out for food once. In the midst of all this, Eric, Katy and Colin were on their way. The weather was slowing their progress and I'd get text messages detailing the reasons behind the slowdown. Just before 7 I got the 'arrived' text and headed out of my hidey-hole.

     The problem here was that I was on the South end of the grounds and they were up at the Rock Stage on the North end. I walked the length of the grounds in the rain and started getting really wet. I found them (including Eric's sisters and one of the friends of said sisters) quickly enough and stood talking to them with my back to the lake, the direction that the wind and rain was coming from. It didn't take long before I was nicely soaked.

     Finally, teeth chattering, I noted that, before this, my mother could at least say I had enough sense to get out of the rain. I needed to get out of the open, expressed this and started moving. We visited a nearby merchants tent where I seriously concerned buying any sweatshirt or sweater I saw. From there we headed to the large 'Tea Room' and used Colin's stroller to carve out a spot for us. After drying out slightly, we returned to the rain to get food. While I got shepherd's pies for myself and Eric, he went and got coffee. This was a brilliant idea. Between the two, I shook off the cold.

     This also allowed us to bump into Eric's friend Mike, his wife Emily and their friend Kurt (Curt?). A spirited, moderately inebriated conversation sprang up from this meeting as we got caught up and chatted with each other.

     Seven Nations were scheduled to start at 8 and we were keen to see them play. We tried heading back to the Rock stage but the rain persisted. We made it to the Sprecher Beer booth and refueled. The Celtic Roots tent was nearby and we ducked in there as the rain was too intense. Once there, our energetic conversation resumed. Eric's sisters ducked out to check on the concert and returned wet a few moments later to inform us that they'd cancelled the show due to the rain. We just kept talking.

     By the time Colin had finished eating, it was a bit after 9. The rain was still falling and we took that as a sign. It was time to go home and we did.

     It was miserable weather and should have been a rotten time. It wasn't. It was still fun. Even an unpleasant day at Irish Fest with your friends is still a surprisingly good time.

     People who have had a chance to speak with me on any kind of regular basis probably know that I like silly voices and accents. I've been a mimic since I was little, parroting weird expressions as soon as I heard them. I managed to get this aspect of the process under control before I ever got beat up for it.

     When I was younger, I thought I was quite brilliant at this sort of thing. As I grew older I decided that I was good at it but probably couldn't fool someone that actually had the accent I was mimicking. I figured my British accent would sound to British ears like most British people sound when they mimic Americans: off.

     When I'm at Irish Fest, the Irish accent kicks in instinctively. Once it or any other voice gets a firm hold on my speech patterns, it's very hard to shake off and return to normal sounding speech. Add beer and this return to normal becomes nearly impossible. By ten o clock Friday night at Irish Fest, I don't think my speech made sense to anyone around me due to the thickness of the accent I was using and the speed at which I was speaking. It's very possible that Katy and Eric understood me but it's just as likely that they were humouring me. They know I'm not well in the head.

     About this time we had to sit down and let young Colin feed. Out came the bottle and he patiently ate. On the other side of the table was another group of people that also had a young lad with them, only about two weeks younger (maybe older) than Colin. We had conversations that were separate, would mingle briefly and then spilt apart again. It was quite fun.

     The whole time my accent is totally out of control. After a long burst of gibberish from me, the young lad next to me just started staring at me, a totally logical act under the circumstances. His dad smiled and noted "I think he likes your accent."

    I smiled and shrugged my shoulders broadly. "And it's fake." I noted.

     Everyone laughed and that's what was most important to me.

Friday Night at Irish Fest

Friday night at Irish Fest was providing rather complicated. On the one hand, I was expecting to spend most of the night hanging out with Eric, Katy, their young lad Colin and whatever other members of Eric’s family that were near us at the time. On the other hand, my parents, one of my aunts and a couple of her adult grandchildren were going to there as well. As a result, I was trying to meet up with both groups. For about an hour, I was failing at both.

You see, Eric’s group was down at the South gate, working the door, whereas my family was up at the Rock Stage on the North side of the grounds to see the band that my second cousin’s boyfriend plays in. It’s at least a fifteen minute walk to go from one to the other. After gaining entry at the South gate and getting a status from Eric on when he expected to arrive, I headed up to the Rock stage looking for my family. Not finding them, I returned to the South gate to check for Eric and then back to the Rock stage. During this process, I noted at least a few nice looking young ladies and one red-headed young lady that was very nice looking indeed. As Eric and I are both fond of fiery hair, I mentally marked her, hoping that we’d see her again so I could point her out to Eric.

The band that my cousin’s boyfriend is in started playing at 6pm. About 6:15 as I stood at the Rock Stage looking for my parents and enjoying the music, my phone buzzed with a text message. Eric had arrived. I scurried to the South Gate, there was much rejoicing, more beer was purchased, I spoke to him of the red-haired young lady and then we collected Katy and the boy before heading back towards the Rock Stage.

Not far before the Rock Stage is a Sprecher Beer booth and we needed to pause there to refill. As we completed this transaction, my mother called wondering where I was. As she was still at the Rock Stage and it was loud in general, neither of us heard the other very well. I tried to communicate our location and that it was nearby but held little hope of finding them quickly. Thirty seconds later, my parents had found us.

We exchanged greetings, the baby was cooed over and then it was noted that the band was nearly done. We wandered over to the Rock Stage for the last song and a half, trying to talk. I looked for my aunt, as I know what she looks like and I didn’t know what my second cousins looked like. I didn’t see her. I was informed that she wasn’t feeling well and hadn’t come. My cousins had and, as the music ceased, my mom started leading me to them to say hello. As we walked down the aisle, I scanned the crowd, not clear as to where we were going. To my delight, I saw the attractive young red-haired lady, pleased that I would be able to point her out to Eric afterall.

Math flashed through my head, proving that the beer had yet to addle it. I added our general course to our reason for walking this way with the young lady I saw. Moments later I was being introduced to the red-haired young lady who, as it turns out, is my second cousin.

After we chatted for a minute or two, my father expressed that he had a headache coming on from all the noise and a lack of food. As they had this as a quest, we separated and I quickly located my friends at the back of the stage, sitting on bleachers as they rocked Colin in his stroller. From this position, I pointed out the red-haired young lady, using her slightly larger sister as a reference point. Despite our distance from them, they were easy to make out. Once he had spotted her, I followed with “That’s my second cousin.”

Eric immediately started laughing. Katy did an excellent slow burn turn towards me, look of distain on her face, and noted “Ewwwww.” I protested my innocence. “I didn’t know at the time!” Eric, for his part, continued laughing and rightfully so.

This very quickly became the Best Joke Ever.

Eric would make a comment to the effect of ‘maybe if you dressed her like a second cousin she’d be okay’. My punchline was similar in construction, like my text message to Eric on Saturday: ‘The attractive young lady at the restaurant just complimented me on my sideburns. Hope I’m not related to her.’

To be fair, ‘Hope I’m not related to her’ has got to be one of the creepiest ways to call a young lady attractive. After this weekend, it seems like a reasonable check to make.

Flashback to '02 Review of a Movie no one else will watch

'Guru The Mad Monk' - 19??
Story in Brief: Guru is in charge of the spiritual health of his island community. He is also a judge and warden of a prison. He has the power to give last rites and execute the punishment. Unfortunately for those who look to Guru for help, Guru is mad and out for himself. When it's time for Guru to be replaced, well, he doesn't take to the thought well...

Thoughts:
This is the first film by Andy Milligan I've ever seen. I've read about him for years, how his productions were cheap, movies strange. None of this seemed like a bad thing as many of the films I enjoy are described as such. So what did I think?

This film is a nightmare. I mean that in good and bad ways. It's bad because the movie is cheap and awkwardly acted by many of the participants. The effects are cheap, the film used was probably cheap, the actors were likely cheap, the script was probably cheap as well. It is a cheap movie. It is so cheap that it does start to take on the feel of a dream, a nightmare, a strange world were things don't play out correctly, but you know you'll be safe at the end.

There's a trailer for this movie and an interview with a gentleman that worked on some of Andy's last films. He's politely disposed towards the Andy he knew, an Andy near the end of his career and life, but admits those films were garbage. He also notes he hasn't seen most (any?) of Andy's earlier work, including the movie on the disk. Strange.

Video: The video is full frame and heavily damaged. The colour is faded. Considering the cheap nature of the film it's unlikely it's managed to survive this long anywhere else in a better copy. On the positive side, I didn't notice any digital problems, so it was mastered well.

Sound: Again, this is probably as good as it gets. It's not good and it's often tinny, but that's likely more a problem with the recording of the film when it was made as opposed to a problem with the print used.

Not recommended. It's only $10 but if you're curious, try renting it first. If you are a fan of Andy Milligan films, you probably already own this, so never mind my opinion. This is not the sort of movie the average person would be able to watch, let alone finish.

A Bedtime Story from Uncle Steve

All tucked in dere? Okay, tonight I’ll tell ya da story of Goldylocks and da Tree Bears. Tree. Yeah, Tree. Wun, Two, Tree. Got it? All right den.

Once upon a time dere were Tree Bears; a Papa Bear, a Mama Bear and a Baby Bear. Papa Bear liked to drink and would yell at Baby Bear dat he was an accident. When he would say dat, Baby Bear would cry and Mama Bear would slug Papa Bear. But he didn’t really mean it and mosta da time dey all got along just fine.

Every morning after making breakfast, da Bears would go for a walk. Papa Bear needed da exercise to work off his beer gut. Baby Bear needed the exercise ‘cause he had the childhood obesity from too much sittin’ ‘round playing video games and such. Mama Bear didn’t need the exercise so much but she knew if she didn’t go with ‘em that they wouldn’t actually go for the walk, they’d just get outta sight of the house, sit down and come back in a half-hour. So, off dey went.

While dey was gone, Goldylocks stumbled upon dere house. She wus out camping with a bunch of her friends and wus lookin’ for the bathroom. She’s onea dem gals that just can’t ‘go’ in the middle of the forest ‘cause she’s scared that a bug or an animal are gonna crawl into her nether regions while she’s takin’ care of business. Why woulda bug or an animal head upstream is what I don’t understand.

Now Goldy is onea dem broads that drinks so much that she passes out at parties and guys take advantage of the situation. She’s simple, got blond hair and a big rack so she attracts attention. At eight in the morning, she’s still drunk, that’s how drunk she gets. When she stumbles on the Bears house, she mistakes it for a Ranger station and in she goes.

Once da pressure is off, she realizes she’s hungry. She sees the Bears porridge sitting there cooling and heads for it. She tries Papa Bear’s porridge but he likes it with Tabasco sauce and it was too hot for her. She tries Mama Bear’s porridge but Mama Bear has a canker sore that the heat bothers so her’s was ice cold from the ice cubes in it so that was no good either. Baby Bear’s porridge had cooled off just right and she ate it up.

Now dat she ate, she got tired again and headed for the bedroom. Papa Bear’s bed was no good ‘cause he’s got a rock hard mattress ‘cause of the support he needs for his bad back. Mama Bear’s bed was all filled with pillows and junk so that was no good. She fell into Baby Bear’s bed and wus soon fast asleep.

Dat’s when da Bears come home. They walk in and immediately see da dere house has been invaded; dere’s toilet paper dragged from the bathroom to da kitchen, the breakfast is all messed up and dere’s a trail of knocked over furniture dat leads to the bedroom. When dey get dere, Goldy is still fast asleep. Baby Bear’s been crying dis ‘hole time ‘cause he’s scared and Mama Bear’s is all worked up ‘cause Baby Bear’s crying and Papa Bear’s mad ‘cause of all dis yelling. So he climbs up on the bed, bones Goldy to death and den dey eat her.

Da Moral of the Story is: If you drink so much dat you wander away from your friends dat are looking out for you, you might get screwed up so bad dat you die.

Night kids. I gotta cold Pabst waitin’ for me downstairs.

Won't Somebody Think of the Children?

I went to Best Buy yesterday and, as it's been awhile since my last visit to Best Buy, I found a number of things that interested me that got purchased. I got carded buying a video game.

That was weird. I don't believe I've ever been carded for a video game before. I didn't see the display on the register to see what question it asked the employee (it looked like something along the lines of 'does the customer look...' moreso than 'is the customer...'). I don't believe I look too young to purchase a M rated game (17 or older).

I'm not disappointed in the employee or the company for having this in place. The employee was very friendly and I have no problem showing my ID to prove I'm the old man that I am. If this is the price I have to pay in order for people who have NO clue about video games to feel safe that 'mature' games are been kept away from children, I can handle that.

So, if that's the case, why didn't I get carded for the R rated movies I bought? The register said nothing about those. In theory, if I was a 16 year old trying to get into a R rated movie in the theatre, I would be carded and prevented entry (in theory anyway). Why was I carded for a video game and not a movie with the 'same' rating? There are thousands of R rated movies with all sorts of 'adult concepts' in them and a relative handful of M rated video games. So, why the difference?

Video games are more interactive? It's one thing to see these things on a screen but another to 'participate' in them. I don't think the difference is that significant. I could be wrong but, going back to the comparison between movies and games, the greater percentage of movies must create a larger influence.

Is it because that 'video games are for kids'? Just like comic books are for kids, huh?

Like kids can afford comic books... what hooey...

Rules/Lessons from the water park:

1) If you are a female and can be in any way referred to as attractive, you will get looked at/admired/leered at in the water park, no matter how demure your swimming costume. Even men who normally would be very respectful of a lady, or would at least try to be subtle about ‘checking out’ a female, will lose that restraint at a water park. There is too much flesh on display. It can’t be helped; it’s instinct.
2) Put on sunblock. Then put on more sunblock. If you are swimming all day, refresh the sunblock as the day goes on. Not doing this can lead to sunburn. It did for me at least.
3) If you are a female and are in any way could be referred to as attractive and choose to wear a two piece bathing suit, you will get looked at by men. Again, it’s a flesh thing; if you show that much of it, the eyes will come.
4) While I lack a strong level of physical fitness, I am not grotesquely overweight. If I stand up straight I can almost pass as merely pudgy as opposed to having a beer gut. I’m sure the sight of my pasty belly doesn’t draw the ladies but I don’t think it’s overly off-putting either. Men really only have the option of trunks. If the gut is big enough, wear a shirt. I saw many that took this option during my trip. Saves on the sunblock as well.
5) If you are a female that has reached a certain age or weight or … sagginess, do not wear a two piece bathing suit. You’ll still draw the eye but not in a good way. A mother and daughter wearing matching bikinis is a dangerous thing, especially if the daughter is of a legal age. It’s less cute at that point and more asking for trouble. Think first. Consider what people might think about your choice of outfit. If you decide you don’t care what people think, you cannot be offended when they think it. Or stare.
6) There is no rule 6!
7) If you decide to wear an itsy bitsy teenie weenie yellow polka-dot bikini, people should be allowed to sing at you.

Checking in

Let's see: Had nothing simple to say for a bit. Been on vacation a bit. Been recovering from said vacation since. Am now swarthy, sunburned and in my glasses. Hopefully most of that will be switching back to normal soon. I don't mind the swarthy so much.

Yesterday I was at a wedding and then over to the East Side to catch up with friends, one of which I hadn't seen since his dad's funeral this past winter. I'm glad I did. For one, because it was fun, and also because I hate having a layer of friends that I only see when something good (wedding) or bad (funeral) happens. This was just hanging out and the request came at the perfect time as opposed to days where I'm triple booked. How can I have nothing to do for a stretch and then, suddenly, everyone wakes up one morning looking for me? Instant popularity. Weird.

Transformers - thumbs up
Simpsons - thumbs up

More reviews to come. I found a batch of old DVD reviews I did before this blog was even a thought and I might repurpose them here. I haven't checked to see if they still amuse in any way yet.

Eitherway, I haven't forgotten about you. More to come.

What are you?

As humans I think we always work to define the world we see around us. Each of us defines it a little differently due to our unique experience on the planet. Sometimes we accept the definitions of others in our perception of the world. Take this definition if you like.

Are you an enthusiastic or a snob?

As I believe I’ve mentioned before, everyone has an interest, a something that fascinates them to a degree that they are eager to devote time to it, whether it’s flowers or cars or baseball or comic books or whatever. In every hobby group I’ve seen, been near or been part of, I’ve seen enthusiasts and snobs.

The enthusiasts are generally fun people. They enjoy their hobby and can talk about it at some length given the chance. Often they can be so enthusiastic that they can talk you into investigating their hobby at length, even if you previously had no interest in it. They may not make you one of them, but you can respect their energy for their hobby, seeing how it matches your energy for your hobby. Sometimes they can be a bit boring because they won’t notice their energy for their hobby doesn’t match your energy for their hobby and they talk about it too much. They focus on the happier aspects of their hobby rather than the negative but they are often not blind to the negative. On the whole, they are a positive group.

The snobs are generally annoying people. They are not bad people but something in their personality causes their expressions regarding their hobby to come out twisted. They want the best for their hobby, whether it is flowers or cars or baseball or comic books or whatever, but very rarely find the best. They often note the problems with the physical manifestations of their hobby or the other people that also participate in that hobby, noting how they are doing it wrong. They use their critical thinking skills, which is a good thing, but often express their concerns in a manner that is more critical than helpful. Their reaction to their hobby may cause you to wonder why they bother with their hobby as it seems that they get no joy out of it. Their expectations for their hobby are sometimes not realistic. On the whole, they are a negative group.

Are you an enthusiastic or a snob?

Fresh Fiction - Wrapup

That was an experiment and, from my perspective, it was rather fun. The primary part of the experiment was the speed with which it was written. Normally I construct the entire story and start releasing it as a section is completed or once it is entirely complete. I wrote the first segment over the course of a couple days. It was completed Wednesday and uploaded that Friday. That rapid turn-around time was interesting to try to accomplish.

My question to you the reader (all three of you): what do you think happened? We really have so little data to go on but what happened? Why did it happen? Do we really know? All questions I find too appropriate for life in the past week.

Anyway, as regards this story, we might be able to answer some of those questions eventually. I'm working on it anyway (that's the other part of the experiment). Janie and Psmith's story together has ended but it may not be the end of the story.

Thanks!

Fresh Fiction For Friday - Final (Blog Entry #100)

There was a pause.

She was unable to understand the pause. It seemed to be lasting forever but part of her brain argued that only seconds had passed since her statement. Still he did not speak, had no response for her. How long did it take to think of saying “Me too?” His eyes had widened in surprise and his jaw had loosened, his mouth remained closed but his jaw had definitely dropped as part of his surprised, but yet he had no verbal response for her. Why not?

Finally his lips moved. They twitched, he moistened them and then managed to speak. “No you don’t.”

She shook as if slapped across the face. “How… how can you say that?” Janie questioned. Tears escaped her, threatening to make the dance floor a slip hazard. Her knees grew weak; were it not for his physical support, she may well have collapsed.

His mask of calm returned to his expression. “My apologies, I did not express myself as clearly as I normally strive to do. The emotion you are experiencing is not romantic in nature but is a reaction, a sign of appreciation for the small part I have been able to play in your recovery. I have been able to provide you with a level of stability and you feel that my continued presence will only increase your stability. I must inform you that this is not the case. There are others that also need my assistance and, at some point, I will have to depart you in order to assist them. Does that clarify my earlier statement?”

They continued dancing. Janie stared ahead blankly at his collar, trying to stem the flow of her tears. His words felt so meaningless. Quietly at first, but with increasing strength, she found words. “How? How do you know how I feel? When have you ever asked me what I feel? I thought I understood how you felt for me. Even when you were being strict with me when I wouldn’t be strict with myself, I always felt an underlying kindness. You did everything I asked to help me and would never let me further harm myself.” Expressing this drained her. She attempted to lean in, rest herself on her shoulder to regain strength but he held her upright, supporting her in this regard but denying her the comfort of further contact. This resistance further confused her. “How can you tell me that you don’t love me?”

He stopped their dancing. Gently, he cupped her chin in his hand and directed her gaze upward to meet his own. “This is what you feel?” he inquired. She smiled a watery smile at him. Further words failing her, she nodded, shaking loose trapped tears. His voice was still calm but had an added gentleness when he spoke again. “If that is the case, then I am afraid I must tender my resignation from your employ.”

He released her chin which allowed it to droop in shock. A thought occurred through her haze of confusion. “Are you quitting because you couldn’t date an employer?”

“While I do indeed feel that way, it is not my motivation in leaving your service.” He stepped back so that he could bow slightly to her. “Goodbye.” With that completed, he walked away.

Janie watched as he strode away, her heart begging him to stop and walk back to her. He did not. As he disappeared into the crowd, she lost sight of him. She tried to call after him but her voice betrayed her, emitting as a whisper rather than a shout. “No, please, don’t go.” There was no way from him to hear her over the music and his lack of return seemed to prove that he had not heard her emotion filled whisper. “Maybe I was wrong. Maybe you have no feelings at all.”

Disillusionment

Well, what a difference a few hours makes.

The early coroner's reports are pointing to Benoit killing his wife and son before hanging himself.

I should have better words for this. All I have is shock and disappointment. There may be a 'reason' for this but I cannot see one that makes sense of this.

I won't take down last night's post as it was written in good faith, before the details were known, and is a snapshot of my feelings at that moment.

Right now I'm just mad that I wasted tears on him.

Later.

Thumb Across the Throat

No matter what your interest is, there are performers that are your favourite. More often than not, they are people you’ll never meet in real life but you read their work, listen to their music, watch them act or whatever it is they do on a regular basis. You’re a fan. You feel a connection to these people that, really, you don’t know. At the same time, you do know them but you don’t. What happens to them in real life shouldn’t matter to you that much. Sometimes it does.

Chris Benoit, his wife and one of their young sons is dead. Chris had just turned 40 about a month ago. I can’t ever remember meeting him. I know I had the opportunity to cheer him in person more than once. I even have a faint memory of being excited to see him perform live the first time. When was that? A WCW house show in 1997, 1998? Can’t remember. It’s probably not important.

Benoit was one of the performers I became specially fond of when my interest in wrestling revived in the mid-90’s. He was one of a crew of relatively smaller sized performers that displayed a unique talent in the ring. They were truly fascinating to watch and many still are: Rey Mysterio Jr, Eddie Guerrero, Chris Benoit, Chris Jericho and I would be remiss if I didn’t include the Chairman, La Parka. Rey’s half a step away from crippled, Jericho is currently retired, Parka’s still wrestling in Mexico, Eddie died a couple years ago and now Benoit’s gone.

When Eddie died it was a surprise and yet it wasn’t. Eddie had a history of problems and injuries. While he’d been good for so long, it wasn’t that much of a surprise to have it catch up with him. Benoit didn’t really have that history. He had neck problems but what little information there is currently doesn’t point to his passing being related to his wrestling history and the injuries that accumulate from that.

Chris wasn’t a flashy wrestler. He didn’t talk well. He was hard nosed, technically minded and just gave off this feeling that he had no quit in him. His first nickname was the Crippler, earned after ‘breaking’ Sabu’s neck. Being Canadian he was later called the Wolverine, a name I could certainly get behind from my comic book perspective. He was a member of the Four Horsemen for years. He was a guy that I always thought should succeed based on his skill and was afraid he never would. A few years ago, at Wrestlemania XX, we all cheered as he won the Heavyweight Title. Eddie Guerrero, also a champion at the time, came out to celebrate with him. For a moment, all was right with the world.

Tonight’s RAW is the first I’ve watched since, well, since Eddie died. It’s all about Benoit, moments from his career, his friends speaking well of him and it fills me with joy and sadness all at the same time. A few matches ago I verbalized a Benoit cheer and it almost made me cry.

Chest chops. The Diving Headbutt. The Sharpshooter. The Thumb across the Throat taunt. The Crippler Crossface finisher.

Like I said, I remember met Chris Benoit. I can’t claim to have spent time with him or called him family or any of the things that would make his passing that much more real. I am a fan of his. And I miss him already.

Rest in peace Chris Benoit.

Fresh Fiction For Friday - Fifth Fragment

They spun. Her heart lept. She smiled. “And you said you were rusty,” she teased.

“I don’t believe I said any such thing,” noted her dance partner. “I said I was out of practice.”

“Isn’t that what rusty means?”

“I am not so out of practice that I qualify for ‘rusty’.”

He dipped her. His expression remained blank while hers grew brighter. “What are you like when you are in practice?” she breathed.

They rose up from the dip. “Better than this I expect.” He felt the need to change the subject and did. “I do wish you had told me of your plan for this evening. Had I known this was the expectation I would have dressed myself better.”

Janie scoffed at this concept. “Oh please. You wake up in the morning dressed better than most of the people here.”

“When have you ever seen me wake up?” he questioned.

Her expression dimmed. “Why did you have to say that? You know I didn’t mean that literally. It was just meant to be a compliment on your clothes. Tonight’s not supposed to be about my… problems.”

“Your problems are why you hired me. It is my job to be concerned with them,” he stated.

“But not tonight,” she enthused. “Tonight we’ll dance and you’ll keep me away from the bar.”

He raised an eyebrow at these words. “Really? You desire to not drink tonight?”

She nodded and smiled as her eyes watered. Rather than look at him, she found herself staring at her shoes. The sternness of his expression had softened into one that started to look pleased, almost happy. She so rarely saw him like this and knowing she was responsible for this made her heart race. While she had already provided her response to his question, she repeated it verbally to emphasis it. “Yes. Help me not drink tonight.”

“Very well.” Still staring at the ground, she could hear how his expression had further softened. It called to her mind the early days of their relationship when she had a desire to change but no ability in herself to do so. He had been so stern, so forceful, so direct in his desire to assist. The pain of withdrawal had been intense and he could very well have locked her away in her room to sweat things out. He had not done so. He had soothed. He had encouraged. He would help her in any way possible apart from letting her relapse. Through the pain of that experience she had a clear memory of him sitting at her bedside, holding her hand and smiling at her. Now they were on the dance floor, he was holding her as they danced and she just knew he was smiling at her to some degree. “I will do what I can to assist you to reach this goal.”

“I know you can do it,” she responded softly. She felt very warm. Finally she found the strength to look at him again. Her vision lacked clarity and she quickly realized it was due to the tears in her eyes. “I love you.”

Fresh Fiction for Friday - Fantastic Fourth Fragment

“Are you surprised?” she asked.

They had arrived at a ballroom this evening as opposed to the normal dance club. “A little,” he admitted.

“Are you pleased?” she checked.

This made him pause. The question did not make sense to him. What difference would his being pleased or not make? Eventually he responded “I am not displeased.”

A smile lay claim to her face. She calculated the double negative to be a positive. “C’mon, let’s go inside.”

----------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Gentle music washed over them as they were directed to their table. There was the occasional look or rushed whisper as they walked. Janie understood all of it without hearing them. ‘Is that?’ ‘It can’t be.’ ‘What is she doing here?’ She didn’t care. Let them wonder. Let them gawk and stare. Tonight was not about them.

Upon reaching the table, Psmith pulled her chair out for her. She smiled at him and accepted this offer. This was good. It all felt so right, so … ladylike.

Psmith stood at her right side, his hands clasped behind his back. After a moment of observing the scene before them, he spoke. “Well now, this is a distinct variation from our normal night out. It is still dancing, just a different sort of dancing.” He stopped speaking. Janie looked up at him with a gentle smile on her face. She did not speak. After a prolonged pause he coughed gently and continued. “I must admit that I am unclear as to how the process functions in this establishment. There may be a dance card required. It may well be that all a gentleman will need to do is approach and ask in order to dance with you. Alternatively, I may need to act as an intermediary. If that is the case, do you see anyone you would like to have approach? The gentleman standing by that pillar on the other side of the room looks nice. Shall I approach him?”

Janie continued to observe him despite the uncomfortable position in which she need to place herself in order to do so. “No thank you,” she stated.

“Does that mean you have someone in mind?”

“Yes.”

“Whom would that be?”

She smiled. “You of course.”

This comment generated a pause in the conversation. Psmith terminated the pause with “Me?” She nodded. “You wish to dance with me?”

“That’s the reason I wanted to come here,” she noted. A thought occurred to her and she quickly added “You can dance, can’t you?”

“I am versed in the terpsichorean arts,” he stated, straightening his stance even further. “It is not a skill I am often called upon to utilize. I am quite out of practice.”

This statement did nothing to perturb her. “That’s okay. I’ve no idea what I’m doing at all so you’re still ahead of me.” She offered her hand. “C’mon. It’ll be fun.”

He visibly pondered these statements. After this consideration he took her hand. “Perhaps it will be fun at that.” She beamed with joy.

Did some math. Was surprised.

I took a look at the computer mouse that 'Flipper Sr.' displayed to me. It was round, semi-clear, semi-silver and appeared to have eyes imbeded in it. "Looks like a Cybermat," I noted before turning to walk away.

This statement caused him to examine it further. Having apparently come to a mental conclusion about my statement, he chuckled. "I suppose it does." He then extended the chuckle to me. "You're very focused."

We had conversed enough about Doctor Who in the past that I guessed he would get the reference and obviously had. By now I was back in my office, thinking about sitting down. "Yeah, well, I've been swimming in that sea for..." Quickly I did math. I first started watching Doctor Who when I was 8 and now I'm 33 so that makes...

I didn't sit down. "25 years now." Good grief! I have friends younger than that!

This is my silver anniversary with Doctor Who. I'd say I deserve a present but the show's been back on TV for 3 years now and, really, I'll take that. More episodes please! At least another 25 years worth...

Fresh Fiction For Friday - 3 (Free?)

Wearily she wiped the sweat from her brow as she continued to exert herself on the stepper fitness device. She knew the time she had remaining was limited as she only exercised during the brief periods when Psmith was not with her. While he had often encouraged her to exercise whenever she wanted and would not have observed her doing so if she had asked him, she felt uncomfortable sweating with him so nearby. It didn’t feel right. Psmith was so cool that she couldn’t picture him sweating. She had tried to do so and could not. Somehow, she felt that he would find a way to talk himself out of it.

The machine beeped loudly to inform her that the cycle of exercise was complete. Eagerly she climbed down and began her post workout stretching. Her everything hurt but in such a good way. She did her best to focus on the stretching and nothing else; to think past the good pain for the form of the stretching. Nothing could stop her now.

Nothing could stop her apart from herself. What was that noise? It disrupted her focus. It was a rustling, crinkling sound not unlike… tissue paper. It was tissue paper! As she leapt to her feet, her muscles eagerly informed her of the stupidity of this movement. All the same, she made herself go to the sound of the tissue paper: the island in the kitchen. This is where Psmith was calmly rooting around in a package. Her package! “What are you doing going through that?” she cried.

Psmith whirled around in surprise at the suddenness of the volume from her. After the moment faded, his expression was left with a mild confusion. “I go through every package that enters this suite. I go through our food. You should be well aware of this as it is one of your orders. It is part of your rehabilitation.”

She spoke quickly. “I take it back. Cancel the order, for this package anyway.”

“By your order you cannot cancel that order.” His eyes narrowed. “What is so special about this package that you do not want me to investigate it as the others, hmm?” Carefully, he raised the item from the box in order to look under it.

Angrily she snatched the blue dress from his hand, for the moment not caring if she damaged it. Surprise returned to his expression, providing her with the opportunity to claim the box as well. She crammed the dress back in the container as she stomped off towards her room. Stomping hurt her legs and made her even more upset.

As this new shock wore off, Psmith returned to a state of confused crankiness. “I do not understand what is the problem. I have faithfully investigated every package that has passed this way, some with garments of a secretive nature, without complaint or concern. Why should this item cause such a reaction?”

In the doorway of her room she paused. With tears in her eyes she exclaimed “It was meant to be a surprise!” She punctuated her displeasure by slamming the door behind her.

Psmith stood there and pondered this. He considered it backwards and forwards. Just for fun, once her considered it sideways to see if it would help. It did not. The result of all this pondering was a deep sigh. “I cannot wait until she gets older and starts to make some sense.” He wandered into the kitchen proper. “At least the package was clean.”