Nerd Phantasia

Ecce Geekonem: Rejoice!

Voltron is coming to DVD this September.
Dungeons and Dragons (the cartoon) is coming to DVD this September.
Battlestar Galactica Season 2.5 is coming to DVD this September.

Steven Erickson's new book House of Chains is out in bookstores now.

Square-Enix's sequel to Valkerie Profile is coming to the PS2 in late September.
Final Fantasy XII for the PS2 is coming out in November.
The new Zelda for GameCube, et. al is out sometime this fall.

The new season of Battlestar Galactica airs new episodes on October 6.

Also, pick up a copy of Valkerie Profile: Lenneth for the PSP it's really entertaining.

All this should be enough to keep me YOU entertained for months to come.

Random Thoughts

I've been trolling the threads over at Fark and things were getting kind of heated (and interesting) in one of the Steve Irwin threads -- so it's related to yesterday's posting, but not really a follow-up.

The farkers seem to be divided into 2 distinct camps: those who think Irwin was a veritable man of giant bronze cajones, and those who think the man was an idiot deserving of a Darwin Award. The cajones camp are irritated that Darwinians are "disrespecting" him in death, and argue that Irwin can't be a recepient of a Darwin Award because he has spawned 2 kids. The Darwinites make jokes and say he can get and is deserving of a Darwin Award. They are fighting like wet cats in a sack. Which brings me to my random thought for the day: The Darwin Awards.

Some farker was kind enough to cut and paste a section from the Darwin Awards website that details what makes one eligible for a Darwin Award, and it clearly states that you can have offspring and still get a Darwin Award. Yet many over there are claiming "Well, those are the "rules" for an Award, but I think they're wrong and they just don't understand Darwinism/natural selection, and I know better, so my beliefs are the right ones." OK, what are these people not getting about the rules that the creator of the Darwin Awards set down? Everything has rules, and whether or not you agree with them doesn't mean they don't apply. It really is that simple.

Besides, the way I understand natural selection is that certain traits/genes end up being eliminated from the gene pool because they have some disadventageous affect for the affected organism(s). So, Irwin had 2 kids -- big deal. That does not mean he passed his "let's go out and poke at venemous spiders" gene on to his kids. They could grow up to be complete non-risk takers. So, you can still have kids sans the defective gene, and naturally select that gene out of the pool (in this case barb to the heart) and that particular trait from your genetic line has not contaminated the gene pool.

Additionally, creatures with maladaptive genes reproduce all the time -- yet over time those better suited to the environment produce more offspring and eventually the trait is eliminated from the gene pool. While it can happen in a single generation, it can also happen over time.

It also makes me think about this. I have an identical twin who has a nephew, but I have no kids of my own. If I die by some stupid act of my own which is Darwin Award worthy -- am I ineligible? Technically, my nephew carries 50% of my genes, so I live on in the gene pool. And what about those people who have may have siblings they don't know about? Because if the fark-darwinianin purists who worship Irwin's giant brass-ones have their say, the trait has to be eliminated completely from the gene pool. In which case, only people with the last existing copy of a Darwin Award gene who kill themselves in a remarkably spectaluar method are eligible for an Award.

And finally, Cojone Purists -- get a grip! The Darwin Awards are loosely based on evolutionary principles and are used as a means to poke fun at the stupid things that people do, which usually results in their (un)timely demise. To wit:

The weather's a little too rough to go out in the deep sea where we were going to film today, so let's take this time to get some footage about stingrays for another show I'm doing. Let's go to a place where we know they are and there are lots of them -- swimming around, hiding on the sea bed, you know just doing their whole manta ray thing in their natural manta ray environment. And then let's take a gander at one of the largest bull male manta rays we can find. Now, no one should be surprised that Mr. Irwin got stung! It is a little shocking that the ray managed a heart blow, but this is not surprising. Smart people avoid dangerous creatures. Smart people don't swim in ray infested waters. Smart people, well, they read the article that is actually linked to at Fark, and get all the facts before they open their mouths!

My Very First Comment

I feel so special. I got my very first comment. Too bad it was spam about making more money. In the post about how I have a herniated disk.

You may all start laughing now.

I'm AJ, and I approve this message.

Man vs. Manta Ray

Frequently I watch those shows on Animal Planet that feature the world's most deadly or venemous animals and I wonder to myself. How much danger are the Steve Irwins and the Jeff Corwins actually in when they're messing around with these nasty creatures? What would actually happen to them if one attacked them when they were filming the documentary?

Thanks to Steve Irwin, I now have the answer to that question:

It was the Manta Ray, in the Great Barrier Reef, with the tail barb to the heart.

The media is calling this a "freak accident." Nothing really freakish about being attacked by a manta ray while swimming in manta ray infested waters with a camera crew and a bunch of other stuff that shouldn't be there. I'd actually call the end result inevitable. Mess with dangerous animals long enough and one of them will eventually kill you.

My condolences to his family.

My congratulations to all the bookies. I bet no one had a bet on "manta ray barb to the heart."

Old 'n' Busted

Once you turn 33, there must be some power (probably the Flying Spaghetti Monster) that automatically goes poof! voila! and now you are old and busted!

My left shoulder and neck have been bothering me for some time, being somewhat stiff and sore and a good day. On a bad day, all bets are off. Friday was a particulary bad day, and after my less-than-happy-making trip to the ER the Friday before, I decided I'd call my Primary Care Provider. He checked me out, looked at the X-rays from the ER, and:

VIOLA! Herniated Disk (no saving throw)

The good doctor ordered up an MRI for me (which is set for this coming Friday @ 11) and then referred me to an Orthopedic Something-or-Other Doctor to review the results of the MRI. (That will probably be on a Friday as well, because all this crap seems to happen on Fridays.)

Right now I'm a little nervous because I don't know what the course of treatment is going to be, how bad the situation is, etc. I've done some reasearch on the net, and I have some idea what to expect, it's just this not knowing what and how this applies to me that's driving me crazy.

Hopefully, this will be easily remedied. But I will say this to the concept of "Injection Therapy" that my doctor specifically mentioned

Ain't no way you're sticking big ass needles in my neck!

DO. NOT. WANT.

Consolation Prize

So, I was browsing the internets this morning, catching up on my news and seeing if anything else has blown up, or been sucked up by the next massive super-hurricane, and I came across this.

Most of my friends know that I'm a SG-1 junkie, although my addiction isn't quite as powerful as a crack-addict's need for a fix. Let's just say I own several seasons on DVD, and I'm slowly working my way through Season 4 right now and I bought Season 5 as a birthday gift to myself a few weeks ago. Also, MajorTexas and I have a Friday night ritual where we watch the new run episodes of SG-1, SG-A and Battlestar Galactica. (Although, with Sci-Fi's odd decision to start airing Season 3 of BG in October, and the StarGates in July -- there has been no Battlestar in the line up yet this season.) I digress.

Quite honestly, I'm a bit sad to see the original series go. It's one of the few decently written/acted/directed/produced shows on TV these days. And the idea behind it has intrigued me since I saw the original movie back in 1994. However, I'm not stark raving mad like some of the fanboys on the sci-fi message boards complaining that Sci-Fi has "totally screwed them over." (If you want some good quality conspiracy theories on the demise of Stargate SG-1, head on over to Sci-Fi and check out the bboard.) Ten seasons are a long time for any series to be on the air, and it's a vertible eternity for a science fiction series to be on the air. At this point, I still enjoy watching the show -- so better that it leave while it's still good than say hang around for 2 years after it's died like something bad out of The Reanimator. X-Files I'm looking at you!!!

Now if you want real outrage about a series being sent to its demise, just look at what happened to Dead Like Me. That show got reaped way before its time was up all because some idiot at ShoTime decided he wanted to do only shows that he brought to the station, so he cleaned the decks of all the programming that his precedecessor had put in place. The silver lining here is that, while Sci-Fi is debateably shooting itself in the foot by not renewing it's flagship series, it has however picked up Dead Like Me and is airing the episodes every Tuesday from 7-9. Maybe, just maybe, they'll pick the series up and start making new episodes.

It's A National Holiday

OK, so maybe it isn't a national holiday, but today should be one. Today is the best day evar! It totally roxors!!!11onene!!!1

You see, today, Snakes on a Plane is out in theaters. That's right those rascally motherfarking snakes will be all up in that plane's business and we'll have Samuel L. Jackson to save us from their venomy-goodness.

In honor of today, I give you this. Enjoy!



That's right bitches! It's Snarfs on a Plane!

Can You Hear Me Now?

So the other day, I got home from work -- completely exhausted as usual. The dog's running around the house like she's never let out of her crate and the cat is hiding some where but still meowing at the top of his lungs. I rifle through the mail to see if anything good came. It didn't. But I did get this nice and pretty shiny silver envelope from Verizon Wireless (my cell provider). They want to give me a free gift for being such good customer. They want me to know how much they value me and my business. I open the shiny envelope and I've won an Oscar! Whoo-Hooo. I'd like to thank the members of the Academy.

OK, back to reality. They actually gave me 100 free Anytime Minutes -- that have to be redeemed by November xx, 2006 or they're gone. Now, I'm on the family share plan, and my better (or not so better, depending on your point of view) half and I don't come anywhere near using all our minutes each month. So, they've basically given us a gift that they know we can't use. Add in the fact that I've been with these people for 6 years, and I had to go through customer service hell to get my "deposit" back from when I first signed up with them, I'm completely underwhelmed with them. In fact, you could say, instead of impresing me with their company and corporate do-goodness, they actually managed to remind me of all the reason why I think they're a horrible company. So, Verizon Wireless:

Suck It!

*it's too bad you have the best coverage in the Metro Area or I'd ditch your sorry butts.

I Stand Corrected

Pretty Princess Update:
So, I have to revise my initial thoughts about the P.P. I ride the bus with. Today 2 things happened which made me re-evaluate my initial assessment of her royal snootiness -- one upwards and one downwards.

1) She was exceptionally late for the bus this morning. She gets on one stop before I do, and I saw the bus rounding the corner and what to my wondering eyes did appear as the bus pulled into Ms. Gucci-Prada-LV's stop? That's right, Mz. Thing (she's not married, she's a got a huge hunk of a faux-rock on her wedding finger that definately isn't a wedding ring, but most assuredly is costume jewelery from Wal*Mart), came tearing around the corner after the bus, ribbons streaming out behind her head from her black EasterBonnet hat. She makes it to the stop and what does she do? As people are waiting in line to get on the bus, she barrels in front of the only guy left waiting to get on the bus and hops on in front of him. Minus 160 Pretty Points Mz. Princess. See that line there? See those people waiting? The correct thing to do is wait your turn in line behind everyone else who was there in front of you.

2) As it turns out Mz. Overly-Made-Up-Thang, also rides the same metro line as I do, and transfers at the same station that I do. (I forgot to mention that she's got a nose like Michael Jackson circa 2001, and wears so much foundation/blush you can actually see it sparkle on her face. Yes, my dear Viriginia, it actually looks like the stuff has crystalized on her face.) So, we're waiting for the train, and I see Mz. P.P. standing next to me, and then some random Latino comes up and starts babbling in Spanish at her. She initially looked at him like he was crazy and I thought to myself "Silly Latino, don't you know one doesn't speak to the Prettiest of Princesses?" The train arrived and she actually sat down next to the Latino and started speaking in Spanish with him!!! And she actually smiled at him!! My world view has been altered. I love that she speaks Spanish, so despite her initial hob-snobbery I give her +161 pretty points.

Net Result: The whole bus stop incident was pretty heinous, so -160, but the cool Spanish talking with the commoners +161. She earns 1 point today, because as cool as the metro incident was, it wasn't enough to atone for her bus stunt.

Behave yourself Mz. Princess, we're out there watching you.

The Prettiest of Princesses

Each morning I wait (not-so-patiently) at the bus stop for the bus to show up whenever it damn well pleases. Each morning I observe the following behavior from one exceptional Princess. While I'm listening to my iPod and cussing the bus out in my head I see this bitch. She is obviously waiting until she can see the bus from her Princess Palace, because I see her stroll down the lane and casually get a Washingon Post from the vend-o-box. Then she casually strolls across 4 (that's right, count 'em up FOUR lanes of traffic) to the bus stop. If she's early she oh-so-subtly cuts to the front of the line in front of 10 other people and stands there reading her paper. If she's late, well, then she waves pretty-princessily at the bus to stop (and it does) and she saunters through the oncoming trafic. I see this EVERY morning.

Now to the best part, the physical description. What do you suppose our Pretty Princess wears? What are her accoutrements? What are her accessories? Let me tell you. Each morning has her wearing a different hat (think Easter Hat complete with ribbon and wide brim). She is also wearing a nicely pressed dress with matching blazer or sweater -- I've never seen her wear pants. Under her wide brim you can see a VERY large pair of Gucci sunglasses that take up at least 50% of her face. The Gucci logo on the side of the glasses takes up at least 20% of the total sunglass volume. Then on her arm you see the typical LV tote. The pattern -- flawless. The pattern -- larger-than-life. The pattern -- you can see if from a mile away. Then just in front of the LV tote, facing out so you can see the label is a green suede Prada purse.

Of course, once we're on the bus, she sniffs and acts like the whole conveyance is beneath her. She spreads all her stuff out across at least 3 seats on an over crowded bus so us plebes can't sit anywhere near her. Such a tiny little nose stuck so far up, such beady little eyes hidden behind the large glasses (which I've never seen off her face), such total Valley Girl perfection. (From now on I shall call her Hillary, because I imagine that all shallow, self-absorbed, valley people are called Hillary.) But unlike us super friendly talk to people Hillaries, she's an aloof Hillary. An above it all Hillary. A vertiable Nouveau Hillary.

The best part about this Hillary par example is that ... all her shit is KNOCK OFF. I know this because the Prada bag looks rather tatty, and so does the LV bag. A real Hillary would buy herself a new Prada the minute, nay the second the suede started to get nappy. All of her clothes have seen better days, or more likely she's trying to look riche and buying the cheap imitation crap. She's wearing the hat(s) to cover up the grey in her hair that she can't afford to dye away.

Nouveau Hillary -- you've been put on notice. Cut the holier than thou act! Little do you know it, but you're riding the bus with a REAL HILLARY, and real Hillary's NEVER flash so much bling, we don't need to flash all that label around. You'll never know that my shoes are Kenneth Cole, and my watch is Citizen because their logos aren't emblazoned all over the place. (And for the record, merchandise with the smaller logo, or no logo at all is MORE expensive than the stuff with the large logos.) Lastly, you're on notice Nouveau Hillary, because I've like totally seen your employee ID badge. *SNAP* you work at the HUD! That's like totally the Office of Housing and Urban Development! *snap* *Snap* *SNAP* You've been officially gagged with a spoon Nouveau Hillary!

Toodles,

The real Slim Hillary.