February 27, 2011

Speaking of the Rumba...

And now for something completely different!

They call me Cuban Pete
Every now and then I'll post something from YouTube I *gasp!* actually found funny. Anybody can toss out a LOL or an ROFLMAO or even a PMSL on the Internet these days. But I'm doing this not to make other people laugh (you've probably seen a bunch of these before anyway), but to save myself from my own dismal short-term memory.

Today we have something that evokes its own memetic mutation in addition to being an embarrassingly huge part of my childhood. I also never knew the song used in this number actually had a name until recently.

More thoughts on Circus

(More stream-of-consciousness amateur music criticism. This is more of an addendum to my earlier post than anything else.)

One of life's best surprises is when something turns out to become even better or at least cooler on the second go-round. More than applying to mind-bender cinema classics like The Matrix or anything by Christopher Nolan and Darren Aronofsky ever, it seems this can also apply to certain rock albums.

I was genuinely surprised that on my second playthrough of Circus in a while, "Minsan" actually brought me close to tears. Which is really saying something, because it's a more upbeat ditty than my usual sad bastard fare. I'd even dare say that "Minsan" has brought me closer to tears than any Christina Aguilera ballad ever. (I admit it: I think "Beautiful" is nice on paper but sucks donkey balls stylistically. "The Voice Within" did come a smidge close though. Why am I talking about Christina Aguilera again?)

Perhaps what really struck me the most about "Minsan" was the refreshing fact that it's not a song about romantic love, which I know dang near nil about. Instead it's a song about friendship, which I do happen to relate to more on a personal, intimate level. If you're a Pinoy and you didn't shed even the smallest tear at the line "dahil minsan tayo ay naging tunay na magkaibigan...", then you have no heart. Well, that or you're rocking something fiercely weird in your brain chemistry right now. That's fine. I've been there.

What else?

I noted that "Sembreak" and "Wishing Wells" fall on divergent ends of the Cute Songs Spectrum, meaning these songs are both precious (in the "aww, how adorable" sense) but in their own completely different ways. Also, "Wishing Wells" made me flash back to Tangled just now. I wonder why.

"With A Smile" is still resplendent. "Alkohol" is still funny, and oddly apropos given my friend's recent dabbling in commode-centric poetry. ("Doo doo doo, doo doo doo, doo doo DOO!" Oh crap, getting flashbacks to last week's Glee episode again.)

I'm also noting how both "Sembreak" and "Kailan" utilized the twist ending. The difference is that in "Kailan" the ending was a genuine surprise, while the "Sembreak" ending was more subtly foreshadowed. I already figured the persona was addressing some very dear friend (lover?) who was far away at the moment, I just didn't guess that by "far away" the song specifically meant "migrated to Canada."

It must be massively unfun being the subject of "Magasin."

Odd that "Butterscotch" reminds me melodically of "Wishing Wells" in a vague way. Except at the halfway point, where it sounds like something else which is at the top of my head but am having trouble recalling right now. (Not rap. Spoken word? The only spoken word anything I know of is Peter And The Wolf and Serj Tankian's "Jeffrey, Are You Listening?") And the arbitrary number of Our Fathers prescribed in the hypothetical confessional was a hoot.

"Sa Wakas" in theory should be pure filler throwaway material, the sort of thing you imagine the guys just slapped together for the sake of adding more wacky bonus stuff to the album. I find "Sa Wakas" a serviceable standalone song: catchy, fun, even a bit danceable. (Rumba danceable, not "Like A G6" danceable.)

Let's finish this. I love the hard rock intro of "Wating." This pretty much proves what I had always suspected, that I'm a sucker for grungy guitar riffs and s***. Oh, hey, is that slap bass I hear or just regular vanilla bass? (The sum total of my knowledge of applied bass guitar in rock music comes from endless hours of Flea and Brian Yale. And that one episode of The Simpsons that had Mick Jagger and Elvis Costello in it.)

How To Write An Eye-Catching Title

Certainly worked on me!

An Arsonist's Guide To Writers' Homes In New England, Brock Clarke

Down and Out in the Plastic Kingdom

At the height of my Minimate-collecting hysteria just a little while back, I first read this lengthy but informative article about how the toy industry worked in the Philippines.

Written by Transformers fan ThunderBreak in the days when Multiply was still the Pinoy's social networking platform of choice, "What You Need To Know About The Phil Toy Industry" (Parts One and Two) was an eye-opening piece that sought to reconcile our typical toy-geek myopia with cold hard economics. It was written specifically to address distribution issues surrounding iconic toy brands like Marvel and G.I. Joe, but the substance of the article itself resonates well with most anyone (most anyone who likes toys, anyhow) regardless of what they collected.

The discussion also continued on Cybertron Philippines, internet home of our local Transformers community. And as their wide-reaching global fanbase (not to mention their nigh-comprehensive wiki site) would surely remind you, Transformers fans are a highly outspoken bunch among toy collectors in general.

Anyway, I'm writing this entry today in the wake of what has to be a very peculiar soul-searching moment for me; a toy collector's crisis of faith, if you will.

You see, March is fast approaching and it will have been exactly one year since I graduated from college and made my official entry into the Real World. Except I haven't actually entered the Real World yet, so instead I sit here at home -- mostly in front of this very laptop screen -- stalling for as long as I can and positively dreading, nay, evading the cruel reality that is our current unemployment crisis. The fact remains, however, that I need to start working eventually if I wish to maintain upkeep of my miscellaneous obsessions, not to mention my lifestyle in general.

Yeah, yeah, I know. Money doesn't make the world go 'round. But as Bono once said (no, really!), it was never really about the money.

Fast forward to 0:13.

In any case, here I am. Baring my soul. About toys, of all things.

A Block At The Forum
I had been fairly vocal about this before on my old blog, but I had always loved my toys growing up, and not just in the syrupy, feel-good Pixar-induced way either. Toys had always been something of my back-up creative outlet, and that one especially bad year it felt like toys were all I had left to make me feel better.

That day might come when I would eventually outgrow them for good, learn to find my bliss elsewhere, preferably via a more "grown-up" outlet like travel or a romantic relationship or whatnot. But honestly? I don't want that day to ever come. I don't want to turn into that humorless sourpuss who can't take a walk on the Barbie aisle bright side every now and then, that sterile adult who can't think and on occasion love like a child anymore, that miserable human being who had completely lost touch with their playful side and can't do so without needing the aid of a happy pill...

I miss being that crazy kid who used to pretend that my bunk bed was a house, that the Sailor Scouts eked out a nomadic existence in a bizarre pirate ship/tank hybrid, that a Hawaiian princess named Tropica lived in an anachronistic European castle on the Maui coast with a parrot and a monkey, that Hellboy moonlighted as a shoulder angel when he wasn't working for the BPRD, that dragons could be swayed with non-violent action, that Renee Montoya often fell into sordid lesbian love triangles with Kate Kane and Morrigan Aensland while Pete and Harry weren't looking, that Vulpix was my totem animal or whatever kind of nonsense I used to act out with my toys back then.

not a real scene from The Spirit
Also, that The Spirit was actually a good movie.

Maybe one of these days I would be able to express all of these things much more eloquently, maybe eloquently enough to be able to make a concrete statement on what really makes people like us tick. And just maybe in doing so, people would stop thinking we're all a gaggle of sociopaths.

February 26, 2011

Really, really, really, really BIG things.

Here's another weird item on my bucket list: a Claes Oldenburg art tour.

Because if there's one thing that tickles my sense of the absurd just as much as really, really small things, it's really, really big things.

Plantoir, Claes Oldenburg and Coosje van Bruggen
For instance, I really want to go visit Venice, California if only to see this crazy (and very real) building. Why am I not surprised Frank Gehry also had a hand in this somehow?

That must be a crazy legacy to live up to, huh? That guy who makes really, really big things. Then again I guess it can't be as weird as being immortalized as that guy who bends spoons or smashes watermelons for a living.

February 24, 2011


(Originally published in my Multiply blog last February 5, 2008, 10:16 AM Philippine time.

My original desk had been unusable since 2007. I keep meaning to de-clutter, last time I vowed to was sometime right after graduation. Ha. The piles and piles of postcards and Minimate boxes don't help.

Alternate post title: Annals in Pseudo-Intellectualism.)

Study tables pretty much went the way of Discmans and manual cameras, what with the advent of desktop/notebook computers and all. It seems these days only the dinosaur-at-heart or the hopelessly nerdy (or both) still have an actual tabletop where they store their stuff/books, harbor their mundane little obsessions, and only occasionally actually get any work done.

Here is "A Study Table", a trompe l'oeil painting by William Harnett (not to be confused with the First Doctor):

A Study Table, William Harnett
And here are shots of MY study table (the second photo being of my desk in a state of mid-spring cleaning), the second unholy chowder to befall this blog, this time one of newspaper, lost books, meticulously-accumulated CD receipts and the odd Russian nesting doll:

My old desk, front view
My old desk, mid-spring cleaning view
Other miscellaneous sights in these shots include my CD collection, Simone de Beauvoir's The Second Sex, a Joseph Cornell biography and (in the red plastic bag) an actual 18-foot gum wrapper chain.

Inane Mental Association of the Day: La

(Not to be confused with Na)

Doolittle album cover, the PixiesMini Lalaloopsy dolls
Weird things happen when you're into a wide variety of interests. God bless the multi-faceted human being.

February 23, 2011

The Ultimate in Dressing for Function

I don't want to go into too much detail, but I am currently in the process of (re)organizing my hard drive. That's 21.5 gigabytes of accumulated documents, digital photos, music, downloaded files, ebooks and whatnot. Oy.

While clicking through my folders and folders of accumulated electronic detritus, I found some possibly mind-boggling JPEGs from way back in June of 2010.

hard drive mystery leftovers?

This was from when I was addicted to HeroMachine 2.5, an unusually fun way to kill time and vicariously live out your inane superhero fantasies via drag-and-drop. I have much more faux-superpowered chopsuey get-ups saved on my hard drive, but these four in particular were made in the wake of a recurring pop-cultural dilemma I have noted for some time:

Superheroine costumes.

cover art to Marvel: Your Universe by Tom Raney

The main thing wrong with superheroine costumes seems to involve an overemphasis on, to quote A Chorus Line, "tits and ass" among other things. Much geek discourse had already been devoted to this topic everywhere from Cracked to TV Tropes. Hell, even Shortpacked! took a stab at addressing this embarrassing artifact of the formerly male-dominated world of comics. (Though video games aren't exactly blameless in this regard either. Consider Lara Croft or Bayonetta or the entire female lineup of Darkstalkers.)

But it's one thing to decry a phenomenon, and another thing to actually do something about it. So with the (probably ill-recommended) help of HeroMachine 2.5, I set out to see if I could do a better job of designing a practical, non-exploitative superheroine outfit myself.

I bet you can see where this is going.

Code name Pragma, my superheroine study
Code name Delta, my superheroine study
Code name Aria, my superheroine study

Guillermo del Toro once said that if you're the type who gets bored easily, then you are not a writer. I ended up creating not so much a superheroine but a whole cheesy paramilitary squadron, much like an all-girl A-Team if they consisted of Rambo, Jet Li and Samuel L. mother-effin' Jackson.

Look, they even have their own psychotic arch-nemesis/reluctant quasi-vigilante antihero ally!

The Raptor, my superheroine study

Okay, I know I said I wasn't going to perpetuate the whole "improbably fancy outfit" thing, but this character's wearing roller skates because for a time I was obsessed with Miho from Sin City. At least she's wearing knee pads!

I wield pointy sticks now.

Some people have their own pet bibliophile hang-up. For a friend of a friend it was architecture-related coffee table books. For me... let me just say Thank God For Book Sale.

My very own copy of Domiknitrix!
A word of advice: do not convert the price on that sticker to American dollars if you know what's for you.
Erm... it appears knitting had become a thing without me even knowing it. That's my big off-blog secret these days: I'm a knitter now. Knitters are cool.

I had been knitting since just last October, and it appears I excel at knitting exactly one thing. And I have this entry to blame thank. Specifically, this bit:

Fingerless gloves: my new Achilles' heel.

Yes, it appears I may have inadvertently foreshadowed my obscene fingerless glove obsession almost a year early. You know what they say about hindsight being 20/20? Well, there it is. (To be fair my eyesight hadn't been 20/20 since I was nine, maybe the rest of me just followed after that.)

Oh, right. I'm supposed to be talking about books.

A helpful hint: The Philippines is, quite literally, crochet country. Admittedly my crochet skills are a bit rusty, but I digress. My point is that if you're a Filipino who just happens to be an avid knitter (or a knitter who just happens to be based in Manila right now), your best bet for discounted print resources is Book Sale. (Granted, you can also find discounted print resources for most everything else there: crochet, scrapbooking, quilting, gardening, cooking, polymer clay crafting, woodworking, metalworking, stamping, doll-making, cross-stitching...)

To wit, the following stack of knitting books had mostly been found at Book Sale (though not all by me. That's what happens when you let *other* people know about your wacko hobbies).

Knitting books from Book Sale

On a related note, any other Manila-based yarnies (knitter, crocheter, cross-stitcher or otherwise) should also pay Dreams Yarnshoppe a visit. At this point touting them as the premier refuge/destination for our ilk would be flogging a deceased equine, though it does vaguely kill me that they're the only place in this city where I can buy those precious double-pointed needles I need for my glove obsession. But that's a story for another day.

A very long story.
This is another.

February 22, 2011

Small parts and meta-toys: the Basic Fun legacy

Oh hey. Basic Fun is still around.

I used to fawn over this company's toys as a kid, I would probably even go as far as saying this company fueled my longtime fascination with miniature versions of things. I forget the exact year of the first time I had seen a peg of these things at our local ToyTown, but I would definitely date it before 2007.

I used to dream of owning my own Etch-A-Sketch keychain (Now comes in four new collectible colors!) and strain my poor little nine-year-old head over how the heck Pocket Foosball was supposed to work.

Between my sister and I, we had managed to own miniaturized versions of:
  • Perfection
  • Twister
  • Hungry Hungry Hippos
  • Magnetic Poetry
  • a Dymo labelling gun
  • Bulbasaur, with his very own Poké Ball
Okay, that list was actually much shorter than I thought.

One unintentionally amusing thing about Basic Fun is how it made no secret of their being very much a "zeitgeist"-minded company. I like to think it was the enduring appeal of their Classic Games keychains and other signature products that saved their asses many a time whenever the eventual datedness of the latest hot-ticket pop culture property backfired on them. Back then they used to release a lot of Simpsons or Nickelodeon product, then a lot of Pokémon product. These days it's Bakugan this and Family Guy that and...

The last time I clicked on their site it was sparsely updated and riddled with malware. I thought that this signaled the inevitable end of the company much like it did with Kenner or Bluebird or *sob* Stikfas.

But lo and behold, I walked into an SM toy department one Wednesday and found a whole peg of them. I eventually got this:

Basic Fun's Ouija keychain
My trusty Nokia in pic for scale.
What this tells me is that novelty keychains are still a hot commodity these days, occasionally to the point of parody.

Fun fact: I have seen an actual Ouija board game for sale here a grand total of once. Oh, that ghost hunter stigma!

One last note: People, never use your flash drives as keychains. It always ends in tragedy.

Though the jury's still out on whether putting a keychain on a flash drive will mitigate this.

My old flash drive used to have a pizza keychain.

Anybody got 3.5 million dollars in loose change?

io9.com has featured yet another smorgasbord of drool-worthy TV/movie props up for auction, offering even more proof that I need to get a job.

Most of the props seem to come from the recently concluded Battlestar Galactica series and a slew of Marvel films, plus the odd space suit, plasma rifle or alien leg here and there.

Defying Gravity space suit, via io9

I found the actual "content" of the note cards from the ending of Iron Man particularly entertaining. I wonder if Robert Downey Jr. insisted on writing Tony's speech himself (because we all know how gung-ho he can get about staying in character) or if the prop people really were just that exhausted.

Iron Man speech note cards, via io9

Also, who knew Tony's Dad was so important a parkway was named after him?
Wait a second. Art Asylum did.

Captain America movie minimates
Too many of the BSG props stand out for me, though I do find myself oddly drawn to the Book of Pythia (poor, poor Elosha), the coin of the realm (er, Twelve Colonies) and Boomer and the Chief's photos for a wedding I guess that never was. (Hope I didn't spoil too much. I still have to watch all the episodes that came after "Maelstrom.")

Book of Pythia, via io9

I know geek consensus by now goes that the Fantastic Four movies were a big heaping pile of head-scratching nonsense, but is it incredibly weird of me that I always found Mr. Fantastic Ioan Gruffudd... dreamy?

Fantastic 4 on the cover of People Magazine, via io9

February 20, 2011

Today in ThinkGeek: Don't diss the sonic!

What could be better than an official replica of the Eleventh Doctor's sonic screwdriver?

Eleventh Doctor's sonic screwdriver replica by ThinkGeek
How about a functional (not-)sonic screwdriver?

Diecast Sonic Screwdriver-Screwdriver by ThinkGeek
I had seriously been considering investing in a good screwdriver set for my own personal use. (What, you've never had that impulse to fix or take something apart before?) This is probably not the most practical route to take, but I want to have fun during my utilitarian moments, gosh darn it!

Sonic Screwdriver LED Flashlights by ThinkGeek
For those of you who spend more time with you purse or car than cooped up in your room tinkering with stuff (*cough*), you can also get your sonic screwdriver fix in flashlight form. They also made a Tenth Doctor version, for those of you Whovians still hung up on Mister Shakespeare getting replaced by regenerating into the King of Hipsters.

I'm the Doctor, fangirls!

Today in ThinkGeek: the Zombie Attack Hoodie

Zombie Attack Hoodie by ThinkGeek.comHere's something I'd been craving lately, from the website I know I'll never, ever be able to order anything from.
This hoodie features the battle scars you earned in your fight with the zombie hordes. Clearly, you've had better days. There are bloody handprints near the pockets and slashes across the chest. There's a deep slash across the back that reveals your exposed spine. There's a bandage on your left wrist revealing bite marks. There's a chunk of missing skull on the back of the hood, which is lined in brains. We'd say you ought to get that looked at, except there's a pretty massive blood spatter on the front of the hood around the area where your mouth would be. Which implies that you ain't one of us any more. But you put up a valiant fight, and for that we salute you. But we're not taking the helmet off, no how, no way.
back of Zombie Attack HoodieZombie Attack Hoodie, action shot
I may not be much of a hoodie person, but this might become my closet exception. Well, this and Marble Hornets. (Uh, look that up on YouTube. Or, if you value your sleep hours, don't.)

When luggage evokes a time and a place

Before my wild adventure in zombie-themed thesis writing, there was my wild adventure in luggage-themed research paper writing.

Specifically, after a failed attempt in working as a team player in Filipino class in high school. As a result I wound up doing a (mildly half-assed) school survey on what kind of bag everybody used. Which means that, yes, once upon a time I was knee-deep in my Overthinking Backpacks Phase. (Not quite as consuming as my Professional Wrestling Phase or my Rock Journalism Phase, but there you go.)

From time to time you can still catch me with a more-eloquent-than-healthy learned opinion on what makes The Perfect Bag. Whether it be the perfect backpack, the perfect messenger bag, the perfect satchel... (What the heck is the difference between a messenger bag and a satchel anywa-- Never mind.)

Today I want to explore the... luxurious side of this mundane dilemma.

Etienne Aigner advertisement, May 1992, Mabuhay magazine

This was a page I saved from an old magazine many years ago, an Etienne Aigner print ad for their oh-so-fancy Travel Handbag! Call this perhaps the foreshadowing to a future career in Advertising I never followed up on except in some alternate universe timeline, but somehow something about the absurd specialty of this product appealed to my stupid eleven-year-old bourgeois mind then.

But in this case the Etienne Aigner monstrosity shall stand in as a shorthand for the aesthetic this specific breed of Luxury Bag harkens to. Think Louis Vuitton meets Indiana Jones. Think African safaris and long voyages at sea care of our favorite dinosaurs of Western literature like Rudyard Kipling or Joseph Conrad. Think those giant nigh-on indestructible trunks that I have only ever seen in Harry Potter movies.

On the one hand, bags like these aspire to a sort of rugged romanticism you don't seem to see in this day and age anymore, except maybe in stories like Into The Wild and 127 Hours barring the fact that neither of those stories ended particularly well.

Into The Wild, movie poster
Dying cold, hungry and alone in the wilderness! Adventure!
On the other hand, the catch to actually finding an authentic one-in-a-million experience bag like this is that it's either over forty years old or over 300 dollars.

Case in point.

Counterfeit Mailbag by J. Peterman

Much touted about in castles of snark like Seinfeld and Jezebel, J. Peterman has to take the cake in quasi-rugged romanticism that revels in no irony whatsoever and costs more than any actual self-respecting adventurer would spend on. (Though I probably wouldn't know, my idea of adventure is LARPing cosplaying and toy conventions.) J. Peterman is one of those real catalogs that sells an attitude just as much as it does $700 flapper dresses.

Oh, but to prove they're not irrational brand-obsessed behemoths of style, the house of good Mr. Peterman does pose other options!

Heirloom Gladstone by J. Peterman

You see? You can just raid some old farmhouse in the country (praying you don't become the punchline of a Harper Lee novel) and find your own antique leather suitcase that's survived three wars and been trod on by seven generations of livestock!

Or you can just check your grandparents' baul.


February 19, 2011

A Retrospective

My Minimates, circa July 17 2008
And yes, I know it looks like Spider-Man is checking out Ultimate Storm.
I now find it incredible to believe that once upon a time these were the only Minimates I had in my whole toy collection. Like most any other people who fall into our circles, I did not expect this whole thing to eat up my life so quickly.

Currently I have lost track of exactly how many of the things I own right now. If I had to hazard a guess, I wouldn't be surprised if they now numbered at-- You know what? I don't want to answer that question just yet. I think I might die from shock if I did.

February 18, 2011

That Dead Island trailer: some quick thoughts

(via Tor.com, which you should really start reading on the count of how informative it can be for aspiring speculative fiction writers)

Blame it on some weird quirk that has taken a hold (or, rather, a bite) of popular culture these days, but video games about zombies are a dime a dozen. And Dead Island is no exception. But DAMN, that trailer. BathosPathos-laden stuff like this is the reason why I became a Literature major.

Surely you can see the original trailer on YouTube (or on that Tor.com page I just linked to), but I already know what you're thinking, and fortunately so have the good people at IGN.

February 15, 2011

A Fairly Dangerous Book.

(Originally published at Bookhawk Pilipinas last Jun 3, 2008, 7:35 PM Philippine time. Also blogged about on my Multiply site.

Looking back now... yes, my taste in books had been insanely cynical.)

cover, Revenge of the Latchkey Kids by Ted RallI can't remember exactly what year she bought it, but just a few years ago my mom plucked this book out of the bargain bins of Page One/Fully Booked (P100 from P580, Power Plant Mall) with hopes that it would give her sound advice on how to deal with single-parenthood and precocious children with increasingly disturbing behavior, a.k.a. me and my two siblings.

Not that it was much help: for one thing Ted Rall is more popularly known as a political cartoonist a.k.a. the bane of Republicans/conservatives the world over, and not quite as an authority on rearing teenagers. Heck, despite its title it wasn't even entirely about troubled families at all (although it DID pose the fascinating proposition of abolishing Father's Day due to the proliferation of all those absentee male parents today's emo songs keep bitching about). To top it all off, the book was published WAAAY back in 1998, and therefore contained quite a few now-outdated references on how slow and unreliable the Internet was. I'm guessing that at some point Mom just plain gave up on reading the thing... which is how this extremely revelatory tome has now come into my possession.

An anthology of some of Rall's most incisive early non-political essays (with more than a few of his horrifyingly apt cartoons thrown in), Revenge of the Latchkey Kids can probably be best described as the Generation-X equivalent of Abbie Hoffman's Steal This Book. It has been by far one of the most important books in my as-of-yet young life, and it pretty much wipes the floor with the whole of that Emo musical genre I was talking about.

Ted Rall, 'The Contempt of Familiarity'
A lot of the topics here fall under the subheading of "Things We Never Talk About, But Are Secretly Pondering", albeit from Rall's glum, angry & irreverent point-of-view. Barring the fact that some of the socio-political stuff still keeps an American audience in mind (and that some of the content, especially the technological sort, has since fallen out-of-touch), the more universally pertinent subject matter is dark and disturbing all the same. Such must-reads include Rall's pieces on broken families, the end of the world, religious dissatisfaction, fickleness in friendship, personal identity, futile employment and the egocentric, apathetic youth.

Ted Rall, To Hell With Father's Day
Ted Rall, The Long Kiss Goodnight
Ted Rall, Pomo Friendship
Just as dark and disturbing as the essays themselves of course are Rall's accompanying cartoons, which also shows how much his drawing style has evolved when compared to his current cartoons.

One of Rall's inconvenient truths in comic form.
Looking back at this last image now, I can't help but notice something... prophetic about it (note that this came out way back in the nineties)...

Dun dun DUN?

February 13, 2011

Did I die and go to whatever-it-is-we-call-the-Afterlife-now?

This just in from the Art Asylum blog!

Marvel vs. Capcom Minimates!

AND we have a potential line-up!

Where was this toyetic resolve back when the first two Marvel vs. Capcoms came out?! Don't get me wrong, I am excited as heck for this new line, but-- wait a second, Minimates weren't even around back when the second game was released. Never mind.

Fingers crossed that we'll get more. Somehow.

(To clarify I never actually played the video game myself, but my brother did! I tend to be of the mind that video games are just as good a spectator sport as, well, actual sports.)

February 9, 2011

"Coat Fudge" needs to be a movie NOW.

My new favorite webcomic at the moment is Slow Wave. As usual, it took me TV Tropes to discover it, and it took me this webcomic to actually sit and think about some of my actual dreams a bit more.

I haven't finished reading through the archives yet, but so far two of my personal favorite strips are "The Refresher" and "I Hated High School", the former sounding like something that could actually happen in one of my dreams (no, I haven't run over any governors with big rigs in mine) and the latter making me crack up the moment blueberry pancakes were mentioned.

Looking back at some of the few dreams I've managed to recall snatches of the past few months, I have come to the conclusion that I am an insufferable nerd. (I can't go into too many details, but I have officially watched too much Doctor Who.)

Also, I wish I remembered more of my dreams so I'd have more story ideas.

In the meantime, here's an actual coherent dream journal entry... thing I wrote last August 21, 2009:
My more interesting dreams are always the zombie-themed ones.

The other night I was dreaming of this bizarre alternate reality where Simon Pegg's movies "Shaun of the Dead" and "Hot Fuzz" were all part of the same cohesive trilogy... the "prequel" of the former being my dream. The movie is called "Coat Fudge."

In it, Doctor Doom is planning to take over the world with zombies, and only Simon Pegg (who, oddly, is wearing Spock's uniform from Star Trek) and Crystal (from the Inhumans) can stop him. At one point Doom actually pulls his top-secret "how to conjure zombies" book from a nearby bookshelf; turns out it's Max Brooks' World War Z. (I really need to start reading other stuff.) In the end, Crystal gets mauled by zombies and Pegg is passed out cold on a door floating down a river in the middle of a burning, zombie-infested wasteland, at which point "Coat Fudge" ends and the plot of "Shaun of the Dead" starts kicking in.

... I also had this older dream where Torrie, Kari and Grant from Mythbusters are all huddled up in an abandoned cathedral with other survivors while this giant horde of zombies surrounds them. Kari becomes the object of affection of this one creepy sentient zombie that used to be her boyfriend when he was alive, Torrie (in a blatant rip-off of the X-Men "Messiah Complex" story arc) is tasked with protecting this one infant who is apparently the key to staving off the impending zombie apocalypse, and Grant becomes a total bad-ass when he fends off the undead with this fantastic medieval-style cannon he built out of scrap parts lying around. (When Kari asks why he did it, he casually answers, "Couldn't sleep.")

EDIT: Weird, why do all my zombie dreams sound like Marvel Zombies crossovers?! I don't even read comics!

World War Z cover, Max Brooks

P.S. It is probably also a bad idea to browse Cake Wrecks right after reading about weird dreams.