Clay Kitten Shooting: cruel, wrong, sick, fun!

Somebody recently pointed me to Clay Kitten Shooting, a cute flash game.  Apparently this is the second iteration of the game, as someone was so horrified that they wrote an angry letter to the creator, which prompted an upgrade.  Of course, if shooting kittens horrifies you that much, you can play this version, which features the creator’s head . . . made to look like a kitten.

Oddly, my cats aren’t the slightest bit concerned when they hear a mew conjoined to a shotgun blast.

Back In The Saddle Again

Jeez, gotten pretty dusty around here.

Well, I’m going to try to get back into the swing of things again. Sorry for the long absence.

Yes, I’m lazy

Okay, not getting anything done. Sorry.

Twitter: Insignificance Writ Large

I don’t like Twitter.  Don’t see the point, really.

I became aware of Twitter a couple years ago, when I found it through Girl Genius, my favorite webcomic.  Phil Foglio, author of Girl Genius,  was using Twitter as a platform for the serial adventures of Othar Tryggvassen, Gentleman Adventurer! Othar is a side character in Girl Genius, a dashing adventurer of great genius and dubious judgment whose mission is to wipe out all “sparks” from the world (including, ultimately, himself).

When I started reading Othar’s Journal, I was otherwise unaware of Twitter.  I followed links to a few other people’s Twitter logs, and was deeply underwhelmed.  About then, I heard a report on NPR about Twitter, with some techie raving about how Twitter was this brilliant program that allowed you to post on the web via text messages from your phone.  Upon hearing his explanation, I continued to find Twitter deeply underwhelming.

Twitter was briefly the Next Big Thing, then sort of faded from view, mostly becoming popular with people who think text messaging is a doorway to brilliance.  Then, inexplicably, it became the Next Big Thing again in the past months.  Suddenly everyone was talking about Tweeting and Twitter and how brilliant it was that millions of people could instantly post what they were having for breakfast.

What struck me as odd was the number of journalists who adopted Twitter as a viable method of reporting.  I remember one NPR reporter talking how she’d be Tweeting from the Mall during the Inauguration.

Anyone who’s spent more than twelve minutes in my company knows that I have an inevitable contempt for anything falling into that classification conjuction of Popular and Pointless.  Indeed, my contempt is sufficiently acrid as to scar the surfaces of nearby furniture.  Hence my befuddlement when friends and family attempted to persuade me to join Facebook.

And hence my current befuddlement that some of my friends are now inviting me to Twitter with them.  Do these people not know who the fuck I am?!? Perhaps they have me confused with Michael Anguiano, or maybe Michael Anguiano.  Or perhaps even, heaven forfend, Michael Anguiano.

I am not those people.

Think you know me?  Then don’t invite me to Twitter.

Sadly, I’m probably related to that last guy.

How Michael Steele Got The Bum’s Rush

Okay, this isn’t breaking news, but I felt the need to comment on it.

A week or so ago, RNC Chairman Michael Steele was on CNN’s “D.L. Hughley Breaks the News.”  When asked whether Rush Limbaugh was really the leader of the Republican Party, Steele said no.  “Rush Limbaugh is an entertainer. Rush Limbaugh’s whole thing is entertainment,” was his reply.  Of Limbaugh’s show, he said, “Yes, it is incendiary. Yes, it is ugly.”

I feel bad for Michael Steele.  He has the unenviable task of trying to drag the Republican party out of its collective double-wide trailer and back  into the cultural mainstream of this country.  He’s also struggling under the burden of being the very first African-American chairman of a political party whose demographic involves a sizable sub-rosa element of racism.  That he was elected to the position at all speaks to the general awareness of the Republican leadership that the party has grown increasingly hamstrung by its willingness to cater to divisive and extreme elements.  His dismissal of Rush as an entertainer, rather than a political commentator or leader, speaks of intelligence and courage.

Rush Limbaugh, on the other hand, is a raging asshole.  I would be saddened if he were to fall down a sewer and die, because some undeserving city worker (probably African-American) would have to climb down there and fish his fat cadaver out. Limbaugh glories in being loud and ugly.  He has no qualms about being ill-informed or misrepresenting the facts.

Not On Facebook! An Exercise in Irony

Breaking News:  I’m not on Facebook!!!

There’s kind of a story there.  See, blogging requires a certain level of devotion that I evidently don’t have.  Part of the problem is that just a general change of scheduling, so that I’m preoccupied with other things at the times that I had previously spent on the computer.  Part of it is that I have recently been somewhat disaffected with writing in general.

Of course, this blog is mostly about bitching and random commentary, which requires a reasonably predictable schedule.  My wife’s blog, Random Bits Of Projects, is a different kettle of fish.  Her blog is about various projects and craft bits, so it doesn’t depend of regular updates.  Her readership is people who need something useful about a project they’re doing, and so they’re just as likely to go to an old post as a new one.

On the other hand, bitching about things will tend to get stale pretty fast.  You have to keep adding new stuff to keep a readership, or else you’re just talking to yourself.  Not that I don’t do plenty of that. And, yes, I’m getting to my point.

Facebook, on the other hand, is a networking site.  That’s mostly a matter of having a presence and then people find each other.  You don’t have a readership so much as you have an extended circle of friends and acquaintances.  Since I don’t really have such an extended circle, it’s not held that much . . . okay, it’s not held any attraction for me.  None.  Yet my brother Andrew has been pushing me to join Facebook since the middle of last year.  I can see why being on Facebook would have value for him, since he’s always been more likely to have friends. 

Slumdog Millionaire

Yes, I’m the worst blogger on the face of the earth.  I haven’t posted in, what, over a month?

Oh well. 

“Slumdog Millionaire” is a brilliant movie, a Dickensian story in a Hindi landscape.  Danny Boyle should be taken out and shot, so that future generations remember him for this movie.  Otherwise, he might turn out another “A Life Less Ordinary” or “The Beach”, leading to a downward spiral that eventually finds him shilling for some cheap winemaker. 

 

To be fair, I loved “A Life Less Ordinary” until the last twenty minutes or so, when it bizarrely turned into “A Crappy Disingenuous Fable More Ordinary”.  Of course, I also liked Cameron Diaz in those pre-Charlie’s Angels days.  So much for the past. 

 

I understand that “Slumdog Millionaire” is facing some controversy in Mumbai for its depiction of life in the massive slums.  Indeed, a Hindi friend-of-a-friend has protested to said Hindi friend that Mumbai isn’t really like that.  Of course, the protesting person is from a well-off high-caste family.  That’s rather like some rich white boy in the U.S. saying that racial discrimination really isn’t that bad and what’s the big deal with the homeless and so forth.  Conversely, everything I’ve read from more reliable sources indicates that it’s a reasonably accurate portrayal:  60% of Mumbai’s population lives in slums, including the central Mumbai slum of Dharavi which alone has a population of one million.  It’s enough to make Charles Dickens shit himself. 

The framing device is the Indian version of “Who Wants To Be A Millionaire?”, but it opens in a jail cell as the protagonist, Jamal, is being . . . um . . . ‘interrogated’.  The police are convinced that he’s cheated his way to the big-money final question.  The movie unfolds in the episodes of Jamal’s life as he explains how he knew or guessed each answer.  The first person narrative is frequently reinforced with images from Jamal’s memories of stories that he hasn’t told yet; we’re reminded that there’s much more to the story than we’ve yet seen. 

While the overarching drive for Jamal is his childhood sweetheart Latika, the key narrative dynamic is the relationship between Jamal and his older brother, Salim.  In an early episode, the very young brothers are each seeking a movie star’s autograph, and their efforts and interaction are a microcosm of how the rest of the movie plays out.  To indulge in a metaphorical hyperbole, Jamal will endure a world of shit in seeking his heart’s desire. 

The cast is excellent, with the key characters being protrayed by three different actors at different ages;  all of them were wonderful.  In particular, I was impressed by Dev Patel as the adult Jamal.  The credits play out over a Bollywood-style dance number featuring Jamal and Latika, both as adults and children, and I noticed Patel’s body language as he danced.  His movements conveyed a completely different person that the Jamal he had portrayed in the movie.  He had so inhabited the character of Jamal that he was visibly different when outside of it. 

 

Okay, that’s enough from me.  Go see the movie.  Prepare to have your heart wrenched repeatedly, but you’ll leave the theater with a joyous heart. 

 

And that’s the highest possible praise from a miserable bastard like me.

Happy Holidays, or whatever

Several weeks since I blogged anything.  Sorry about that.  I’ve backposted Anguiano Held Hostage:  Day 130 and Day 135 by way of making up for it.  Day 130 is about having a household of newly adopted cats, in which I sound uncharacteristically sweet.  Day 135 also discusses pets, but more to the point is a meditation on the uncomfortable disconnect between the nature of the holiday spirit and its actual practice (or lack thereof) by people.  One of my more pithy discussions,  sadly.  Or maybe just a rant on a classic theme. 

 

Yes, it’s that time of year again, when we’re reminded of the Christmas spirit by a daily jamming of sales advertisements in the mailbox.  Yes, it’s that time of year, when sappy holiday music blares from public speakers while people use the Baby Jesus as an excuse to yell at salespeople about how they’re ruining a young child’s Christmas.  Yes, it’s definitely that time of year again, when Bill O’Reilly starts his annual yelling about how there’s a War On Christmas, illustrating his principle that the last thing a devout Christian wants to do is demonstrate charity. 

I despise the holiday season.  Perhaps it’s that I’m getting old and (more) cranky.  Perhaps it’s that the increasing commercialization of the Christmas holidays have soured my perceptions.  Perhaps it’s simply Holiday Fatigue, caused by the increasingly early onset of the holiday season, which now starts  the day after Halloween.  Mostly, though, it’s just that human beings are mostly assholes.   

 Ye gods, I despise the holiday season.  I give the gifts, I wish people the best, I drop a dollar into every Salvation Army bucket that I pass.  I try to live the spirit every day of my life.  I just wish people would shut the hell up about how I have to do it during this tiny window at  the end of the year and how Jesus is ‘the reason for the season’ and so on.  I think Jesus has bigger things to worry about than 60% off selected linens at Bed Bath & Beyond. 

Honestly, if Jesus Christ were walking on earth today, he’d slap Bill O’Reilly for being an intolerant jerk who lacks the tiniest bit of Christian charity. 

So here’s my holiday wish to you, dear reader:  I sincerely hope that, throughout this holiday season, you are not the kind of person that Jesus would slap.

Smart People & Insatiable Curiosity

 

I like smart people.  Indeed, I find political discourse so tiring because it’s dominated by people who are loud rather than smart.  I’ll spare you a list of examples, I’m sure you have more than a few in mind yourself.  So it’s always a treat when I run across someone who is smart and funny.  Hence my love of The Daily Show and The Colbert Report. 

I should point out that I don’t seek out the more obvious blogs of well-known commentators and so forth.  Rather, I like hitting the ‘random’ button and seeing what pops up.  That’s how I ran across Conservative Amazon, which I found neither smart nor funny.  Still, it gave me a couple weeks’ diversion until she took her ball and went home. 

More happily, that’s also how I ran across Shanghai Jill’s blog Insatiable Curiosity.  Smart and funny.  Dunno who this person is, but I find myself agreeing with her blog in most of what I’ve read.  At least so far.  She also takes the time to read and link things, which I’m far too lazy to do.  So if you want to read a well-reasoned analytical parsing of some loud political hack, she’s a good well-reasoned analytical parser to turn to. 

Or to which to turn.  Or something.

Poly Ticks: Libertarians Bug Me, Especially Bob Barr

Bob Barr is a nut. 

For those who aren’t instantly familiar with Bob Barr, here’s a recent New Yorker profile of the man.  Frankly, I think the man is a nutbar, but that’s my typical view of libertarians.  There’s a wide degree of variety amongst libertarians themselves as to what constitutes “libertarianism”.  For a more extended look at the political platypus that is libertarianism, here’s entries from Wikipedia, the Stanford Encyclopedia of Philosophy, and the Internet Encyclopedia of Philosophy.  However, my general understanding of it can be expressed simply:  government baaaaad, personal liberty goooood. 

In my more generous moments, I regard this as profoundly wishful thinking.  More often that not, I regard it as a psychotically naive philosophy that looks to reduce human society to a matter of trucks ‘n guns.  Why trucks?  Because there’s no government to build roads.  Why guns?  Because there’s no government to stop someone from taking your truck. 

I remember reading that one of the more extreme militia groups from the 80’s and 90’s used to argue that they didn’t believe in government above the county level.  My reply:  “You guys must really love communism . . . because unless your county can afford tanks and fighter planes, you’d last all of seven minutes during a Soviet invasion.”   That’s an exaggeration, of course.  No way would they last a whole seven minutes. 

Which expresses my fundamental problem with libertarians:  humans are assholes, therefore government is necessary.  Government is, by nature, a societal attempt to limit the inherent assholishness of mankind so that everyone can play nice and get through the workday.