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Shady, below is the last entry I started almost a year-and-a-half ago.  It was around when my father died.  I hope we start the blog up again.  Also, I'm devastated right now by the events of my life.  Someone who matters to me greatly has left the realm of daily interaction, and the parting was problematic at best. As the incomplete entry below indicates, I won't alert you to this, and, honestly, part of me hopes you never read it.  I will probably call you soon.  I hope you are doing GREAT!

beginning of entry:

 Hey Shady,
So this is an entry I'll post without alerting you of.  If you ever end up reading it, I guess that's ok.  I value your friendship TREMENDOUSLY (THANK GOD).  This entry just doesn't follow the usual pattern of our entries, hence the lack of notice.  Again, if fate or whatever hand made you appear at the Wawa should lead you to this entry someday, I bear no shame in posting it.  So this entry is more of a recap of the last month.

Sunday November 14th, 2010
There's this Teen Film Program that I'm a teacher with.  It teaches film to kids labeled as behaviorally challenged.  The program uses the glamor of film to teach the kids planning and execution.  The kids write their own script, we put a shot lit together, they work with a music producer to write music for the piece that we shoot later on.  So far its turned out great each time.  We had our screening on November 14th at a giant movie theater in Jersey.  It was awesome.  No one had seen the completed piece, and they loved it!  It was a great day that lead into a fun day.

Monday November 15th, 2010
A fun day.  I was running late as usual.  There was an event for the Shackdwellers Movement.  I got there in time to be the cool guy who's late.  There was also a screening of Scott Pilgrim that some friends were going to four blocks away.  I tried to make it to both, and I caught some of both.  It was fun to run in the city.  That Girl...Chrissy...was there, along with her male pining harem, or what I suspect is her male-pining harem.  Three guys all interested in a girl who's already taken.  The sad part is that one of the guys is a friend who I brought into the group.  He's a lot  like me...he's Vietnamese like I am, but not muslim and all of the machismo that goes with it.  Its sorta funny.  We ended up going to a  diner later and this friend Ronald and his wife Denny stopped by as well.  It was fun night full of laughs.  The next day was better.

Tuesday November 16th, 2010
I got home late from dinering with friends, and woke up to news that it was Bakr-Eid, one of the two big Muslim holidays!  My dad and I got dressed and made the service at the masjid.  Everyone was there.  A packed house.  We barely got to eat anything.  I had to rush out and leave so I could meet with a friend, Diane, from THiNK (that place where I freelance, get it?).  I offered my dad a chocolate fudge brownie, because he said it was customary to eat something at the masjid before leaving.  I had applied for a job at ThiNK and didn't so much as get an interview...kinda' a slap in the face....  Diane has had a lot of trouble at THiNK and felt I shouldn't even bother trying to work there.  It was sad to hear how she's sorta' financial just making it as the CEO of THiNK has basically run the place into the ground while getting paid buckets of money from two separate local, public media outlets (its been somewhat of a local scandal....).  Despite the gripes, it was still a good time to have lunch with her, except for the fact that I had to leave as soon as we were done to go help another friend.  This other friend is a Jewish lady that 64 years old, but she's still a friend.  Her name is "Julia".  Julia's a dog lover, particularly a pit bull lover.  Her pt bulls are an example of how the breed isn't innately vicious, but is trained to be that way.  They are really loving animals and the lick the crap out of me anytime I stop by.  Julia knows my mother's cultural belief that dogs are filthy,a nd she tries her best to keep the dogs away, but its to no avail.  FWIW, its kinda' funny to me.  I think the dogs like the smell of Vietnamese food in me.  I helped her out on her audio issue as best I could and then went home for a bit.  Later on that night, I went o a diner with my cousin, Oswald, you remember Oswald?  We dined into the the late night, maybe like 1 am.  It was a fun meeting too.  Like we actually had a good time hanging out.  I got home by maybe 3am.  The next day was the worst day of my life.

Wednesday November 17th, 2010



Kick Start

Hey Shady, can't seem to autosave this, so i'm going to post the incomplete entry.  hope u like it

Evidentiary Matrix
ENTRY 233/2304956

 It always puts me off.  The smell.  Rotting teeth and decaying food?  Salivary bacteria festering and dying?  I'm not sure.  When I smell his breath, that's little bits of whatever being emitted from the recesses of his mouth, into my nose.  Maybe its the OCD, but I get this feeling in my mouth at those times as well, a tart feeling like I need to drink a smoothie to get rid of it.  I worry that's the bacteria colonizing my mouth just as they're registering in my nose, taking root, infecting me.

And yet I come back....

I try to hold my breath.

I try to avoid being close to him.

I nose breathe.

I keep myself from swallowing for hours on end until I can spit in the water fountain and wash out my mouth....

His work is revolutionary.  That's why I put up with it.  We are making a difference.  In the early part of the century, activists thought they could make a difference by "recycling", meaning they would sort out their refuse along the lines of what item containers could be reprocessed and returned into the general circulation of their economy.  Our fore-bearers never considered the time and resources lost in the sorting process and the utter futility of the relative impact of their toilings in trash.  We can tell from what little is left of that era that they considered themselves, of all things, ...responsible.  Maybe its arrogance, but I smirk in the tube when it levs past Beijing's still visible gentle green glow.  Responsible, more like deluded.  They had no foresight.  What was this world they were creating?  What were the consequences of their actions.

Warren solved the surface tension issue with the Mark 7 model today.  I was in Sandbox 5 when he ran in grabbed me by both shoulders and yelled, "Maggie!  I've done it!  I've done it!"  I wanted to vomit his rotten breath right back on him, but I couldn't help but giggle, exposing my teeth and mouth to his oral detritus.  I knew he had cracked the cell (apparently, the solution was to power the nanosnake nose-tip with a .2 MJ charge while having the tail provide equivalent back-pressure and rotating the body segments at a rate of rotation based upon the cohesion strength of the cell.  I know what you're asking, Tyler?  "How are you able to judge the cohesion strength of the cell?  Think, Tyler...got it?  The nose-tip again!  Judging that the cell is still basically salt and water, a pulse charge calibrated to this reality can measure cohesion strength by simple light diffraction...I know, "Why didn't I think of that?").  
Kachangi.  Warren Kachangi.  How is it that he's be able to consistently think of these things throughout his career, while we mere mortals struggle to smooth out reticulation algorithm glitches....  I wouldn't have a purpose without his brilliance.  I'll see you at th--------End of Data recovery

Evidentiary Matrix
ENTRY 233/2304956
DATE RECOVERED: Quasar Date 1080487 Origin: 01 Pre-EVAC  
         Estimated Earth Date at time of entry 05242178
Personal entry.  Suspected Research Scientist.
ADDITIONAL NOTE: While occurring nearly a year before The Evac, I suspect that this seemingly randomn personal entry contains VITAL INFORMATION related to the origin of Magnificence. While not accepted by the Centauri Science Council, it is my assertion that Magnificence is OF HUMAN ORIGIN.  Records around The Evac are limited at best.  Magnificence first appeared in the Pacific Ocean. This entry is recorded by a Margaret Salamovich to a Tyler Abulaziz.  The Pre-EVAC Earth still shows signs of a magnet-lined cylinders ("tube") that may have been used for transportation.  Having been abandoned an estimated 20 years Pre-EVAC, Beijing remains one of the few well-preserved human artifices pre-dating Magnificence.  It is my assertion that Beijing's preservation throughout Magnificence is directly related to its having been abandoned.  Ranger-17's overfly scanned one such magnet-lined cylinder over Beijing on a heading that only corresponds with the small atoll formation of Tokelau.  Evidentiary Matrix Entry 17354 lists a W. Kachangi of the Kachangi Tokelau Institute as a speaker at the ...


Dear Shade,
...that whole 'cant write cuz i got nothing to say'-thing is quite the drive-assassinating cyborg from the future...maybe it can be forestalled by creativity, or drug-use, or Michael Beihn.

So I got a new phone a while back, and I don't know if you've noticed this, but the cellphone companies or whichever Overboss Corporation that dictates such policy have decided to curtail the number of free games installed on your phone over the last 6 or 7 years. On my first cellphone, there was actually a full solitaire game. This was back when cellphones were still catching on. The second to last phone had three games full games, and that was the highwater mark of free cellphone gaming.

All of this to say, Shady, that my current phone has two 'trial-versions' of games. The first is Tetris, the Siberian Slayer of Productivity. The randomness-engine that dictates when a trial game of Tetris shuts off is mind-boggling. I'm not sure if its because the mechanism behind the randomness engine is undoubtedly some poor extra-dimensional traveling alien child that's been imprisoned here by the Overboss Corporation to generate randomness and now it misses its mommy, daddy and its tertiary gender neutral parent, but the game just ends, suddenly and frustratingly. No discernible pattern other than your almost into the game. I've grown to dread it. Its so frustrating that I won't buy the game out of spite. If they gave the game to me for free, I'd erase it...and dance around the flames...somehow.

The other game is 'The Sims 3'. I've never played any of 'The Sims'-series. Have you? I apologize if you're very familiar with 'The Sims' and this is all retread. I guess the point of The Sims is to succeed at life(?). Get a job, get a spouse, learn a skill like gardening, keep your job, shower (yes, shower), be entertained, eat, sleep, engage in violent carnal relations, go fishing, buy groceries, even watch TV.

The only thing is that, because its a trial version, you only get to play roughly ten minutes, in the fast clock moving Sim world, from 14:00 to 18:00 on a Monday afternoon. You run out the clock, and then unless you buy the game, you are forced to exit and at best restart at 14:00.

Unlike Tetris, there is no randomness to when the clock ends. You know that when the clock reaches 18:00, Cinderella doesn't just lose her carriage, her whole world ends. You lose all that you've gained except the knowledge you've gained in the interim about the game itself. So, if you're a rookie, you get to learn how to move your Sim, where to go to feed your Sim, etc., but that's it.

Eventually character control becomes second-nature and you start playing the game. And you get interested in the actual game---inding the right girl or guy, getting the high paying job, showering first then eating---but you only get so far before time runs out. Then you start over. The love of your life suddenly doesn't even know you because you're Adam Sandler and she's Drew Barrymore from that movie where Rob Schneider is a Hawaiian....that's right...Hawaiian. Your job is once again vacant. The steak you just ate is magically back in the Meat Section of the local grocery store.

So you try to fish, and get sorta good at it. You help someone out. You meet some little character goal like eating pancakes for the first time in five years. And then the world restarts.

Sisyphus sheds a tear.

All that you've gained is wiped out. Everything. Nothing Stops the Clock.

It feels like Groundhog's Day. Or that awesome episode of the X-Files... or ST:TNG where he Enterprise keeps on blowing up and Frasier is the captain of the ship that's sent 90 years into the future.

For some reason, I don't want to buy the full game. A good chunk of the reason is reality; I don't need to be wasting time/money on another video game...but also, there's something unique to this whole living the same day again and again thing. Nothing Stops the Clock. So you start to aim to get the most out of any one day that you can. To make your short time as effective as possible before the curtain falls. Shady, I think we should live this life as though those rules apply.

The Dueling Blogs: Nothing Stops the Clock

C'mon 7!

(Play music: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=o22eIJDtKho )
A friend once wrote:
'somewhat we're all victims of chance, but really we're all products of choice. Where you're at, in life, reading this right now? it's where you chose to be.'

The qualifier 'somewhat' hobbles what appears to be a powerful statement on the idea of human will. You only get ass-raped by a picket riding the fence.

Me, I choose luck. Its all luck. You ride the river. Swim and struggle all you want, if the river wants to drown you, you're drowned. Is that defeatist? Is that arrogant? Maybe, but its true. Shakespeare, Beethoven (I'm pretty sure that's pronounced 'Beath Oven'), they just happened to roll 7s when it came to artistry. Well, really not even artistry, so much as being noticed. That's right. Good Publicity. Shakespeare and Beethoven were, above all, just lucky.

The greatest writer was probably some poor chinese farmer who lived in the 10th century, thought to be a crazy man on the hill. Maybe he had a longing for some woman in the village who never knew. He wrote of this longing for years. Until he told her, and they lived happily ever after: he never wrote again. Did posterity lose out? Maybe, but when he made love to that woman nightly for the next 80 years, I don't think he cared. He died in his bed less than a year after his love, surrounded by children and grand children and great-grandchildren. The greatest composer/singer/songwriter of all time? Alois Werner Belkin, a Jew from the hinterlands around Letychiv in Ukraine. Although he felt it was his own by right of the blood and sweat he'd poured into it, Alois did not in fact own the land the local count made him work. He was in the Pale. When the land was taken from him, when he was forced from his home, when his children starved, for a religion he barely believed, for an identity not of his choosing that brought him nothing but pain, Alois broke. He walked off into the endless steppes. If the scrub grass could talk, if the dirt could remember, if the transmutative eternal life known as insects could vocalize, they would all tell of the grief in his song. Songs of happiness. Songs of hope. Songs of love. And grief. When his heart stopped, Alois had long been exposed to the elements. If some good samaritan had found him, the frost bite would surely have taken most of his extremities. But no one came along. Instead his remains decomposed--birds fed from his entrails, carrion ate the muscle of his shoulders, maggots hatched in his mouth and fed from his gums and cheeks before eating through his eyes to be free, and the grass, the grass drank his blood. Not a written record of his life remains. Not a note of his song. His grief is gone from this earth.

Although he's been dead for 204 years, when I close my eyes, I remember Alois. I think his best song was in memory of the birth of his son. I wonder what became of the boy?

This life, its a card game, the best you can do is stack the deck.

You should leave Sony.

Dueling Blog: The Second Coming

'Is this thing on?'

So Shady, I'm going to foster the hope that this Dueling Blogs Series takes off again. I've been playing too much Combat Arms, and no my typing is bad because its sorta like my brain is tuned for keystroke efficiency and not for accurate spelling if that makes sense. Like in typing the word efficiency in that last sentence, I initially typed 'eifficiency', because in the time it takes to switch from the 'e'-key to the 'f'-key with my left hand, my right hand had already jumped to and pressed the 'i'-key. This pretty much replicates how one might strafe laterally with the left hand while selecting a more appropriate weapon with the right hand at the same time in game so as to save precious seconds while making a charge for an enemy flag.

....And yes, I will buy Team Fortress 2...today...there...are you happy?

Len is writing a short that we are hoping to produce within six months. I'm a little concerned, because Len has asked my cousin Orlando (I think you've met 'Orlando'?) to help out. I kinda' don't like mixing friends and family on projects. People need decisiveness and direction on a project, and sometimes it doesn't rub family the right way when you're giving them orders on-set or in pre-production. Also, I worry that Orlando is kinda' mean and angry deep down, and eventually that will come to the surface only to be cooled by departure (his traditional move). He has in the past left things to hurt those involved. I'd hate to lose him for a project.

I also have this mental hang-up concerning Len's script where I keep on thinking the characters in it are like the characters in a script I'm trying to write. I've mentioned this to Len, so that he can keep an eye out for it.

I recently bought a giant book called "The Universe"...I believe it to be vital information on my foe and its nature...keep your enemies close, Shady...like Littlefinger.

In the interest of starting slow, I'm capping this entry off here. I was wondering if maybe I could give you a ride to the airport this time around?

The Dueling Blog: There Will Be Blog
(That's me trying to shock the Dueling Blogs back to life, Shady...or an excerpt from some kinky sex-game...'Perhaps I should administer Atropine?'  Atropine also applies to cardiac resuscitation and kinky sex-games....).  

Your Buddy Vic (Vic with the Workshop) came through big today.  He was a Stunt Coordinator for our shoot today and he built a 'fire-wand' for the scene.  I had the fore-sight (Kinda' like GRRM's 'green-sight') to think the process should be filmed for Vic's show.  I think it'll be nice.  Here's a still:

I will disavow any knowledge of being connected to this, so if you bring it up with Vic...be honest, but try to stay away from the blog (Uless, Vic already knows about the blog).  Why?  I'm alright with Vic knowing about the blog, but if Vic mentions it to other guys from the crew, suddenly worlds are colliding and some people are better left out of the Phantom Readership...sadly....  Its ironic: VIc now sits on the nexus of various Bartleby Worlds...The Shady World, the Bartleby Film World, the Alliance of Luchadors...its crazy....

So I went to a GameStop store (Are they on the West Coast?)  And asked for 'The Orange Box'.  The said they no longer carry it, but I could buy it online.  In fact, the guy at the store recommended that I buy it online, because then I could install it as needed so long as my Valve Steam account number is kept handy ('Valve', 'Steam', how cute is that!).  I may pull the trigger soon, but,Shady,... (sigh at the acceptance) video games eat, as in devour, my life.  When I'm hooked...work doesn't remotely get done.  I'm worried, that buying 'The Orange Box' will be the final nail in the coffin of Bartleby's Productivity.

I have to shoot tomorrow (today).  Call time is 6am.  I want to be there by 5:30.  I have to leave at 4:45.  It's 3:44 am as I type this right now.  We're expected to start the final scene of the shooting day today at 5pm.  We'll start at 6pm, probably.  We'll probably finish at 9pm...I'm so screwed....  I may just leave now and sleep in the parking lot of the hospital where we're shooting first.  I'm getting paid to shoot.  Every time I get money from these guys/friends, I feel bad...until I go over the fact that this production is eating up my weekends in one bite.  Then the 'I'm so screwed'-feeling returns.  There's a lot of responsibility on my shoulders...it's kinda' like animating the robotic adversaries of genetically-enhanced Guinea Pig commando unit...without the wild, West Coast Orgies (Speaking of Orgies, how's that child support bill, Shady? Cue Kanye: '18 years, 18 years, she got one of your kids, got you for 18 years'  How is your Half-Latino brat anyway?).

Anywho...The Dueling Blog...Should we give it a shot again?  I think its worth it, dude.  Having read over other people's blogs, our little scheme is unique as far as I can tell.  Most of the other blogs I've come across are really short and bound to disappear because of twitter...or just forums for posting funny videos from youtube...or sorta' self-important or buying into the whole artsy-fartsy thing (think, 'film school') without ever having the self-awareness to realize the utter trifle that is 'Their Art' (More Pretentious When Capitalized...I'm being too harsh, aren't I....).  One interesting one I stumbled across is Hot Chicks with Douchebag, which is written by a self-described 'bag...its about, well, Hot Chicks with Douchebags...self-explanatory...this dude also uses 'meters' (much like the Failure-o-meter, pronounced 'Fail-yom-eter'...the 'err' is a soft 'err').  He's got the braometer, the hott-o-meter.  I think he may be a kindred should to you, Shady.  I mean, here's  a quote: 'On an unrelated note, boobies.'  That sounds quite Shadish....  

Anyhow, ...if the boobies stir you to,...write back....
The Dueling Blogs: Fuck Caps Lock

...I cursed....Forgive me, Merciful Allah...for my transgressions, both direct and indirect, for I sin by day and by night, but, of all those with mercy, You are most Merciful...

                                          ...and give me like a $100,000,000,000...please....


So... its been a while... I must've been asleep when you called, Shady.  Here's the entry I was working on last time, retrieved via Live Journal's Autosave/Pyrokenesis function (note to self: buy more fire extinguishers) :

there's this firm I'm working with, Shady, that still owes me $8K. Work is pittering out, and so instead of saying, 'What about the $8K you owe me?', I'm thinking that at least my credit card companies will be happy....  Admittedly, that company is just at the top of the contractor chain of screwed individuals/companies that I'm at the bottom of.  The sub-contractor I was directly contracted to is owed $25K, the above-mentioned firm is owed +$100K.  That helps keep it in perspective.  Apparently, the actual client relied heavily on getting business by credit-financing and high oil-prices, and the collapse of the one-screwed the other.  

Speaking of credit, I really don't get the bail out.  Give me the $10,000/tax-payer you're giving instead of the already wealthy banks who've blown they're financial resources, financial resources that they garnered n the basis of reputation and confidence...a reputation and confidence that was apparently as strong as so many wet-noodles....  Why would you give me the money instead of the bank?  Because by giving me the money, they'll get it back anyhow when I pay-off a credit card bill or car payment, etc.  It all ends up in the same place: not my wallet.  Also, they'd make money just in allowing me to store or access the government money in the first-place via their myriad financial networks/banks

End of Autosave Entry.

I'm going to try to embed media here.  Its an image of a statue in Russia commemorating the Battle of Stalingrad.  Its giant and really impressive, but also sort of funny...

 I guess its kinda funny to me in that its so ostentatious, as if its their entry in the Grand Statue Bake-Off (or Grand-Off?).  I also find it funny that if your browser window is the right size, as you scroll down, it looks like a regular, life-sized statue for a while, and then you keep scrolling and see these tiny ant-specks of human beings  to finally give it some scale-perspective (that is one freakishly uniform-blue sky...I'm sensing Photoshoppage)....that and... 'I guess it must be cold there' ('Eets olvaze colhd en Siberia...' ---Molotov Cocktease).  Can you imagine the Cold-War Russia-era meeting where the Politicos discussed the issue of Areola Erectness?  Can you imagine how many people where sent to the gulags for saying 'Do we really need such prominent nippleage?'  On those 'Guns of Stalingrad', the nipples must be as big as a house.  

But enough nipple-talk....  I saw Michael Clayton.  It proves again that the 70s era film directors know something the rest of us don't.  I know Sydney Pollack didn't direct the film, but he did executive produce and act in it (and pick the director?).  It reminded me of 'The Interpreter', which was really well done, despite a somewhat convoluted script (The script was fine, thats just my bullcrap film critic groupthink voice kicking in).  Information could have been spoon-fed to us throughout Michael Clayton, but it was revealed slowly, always in a manner that makes you put a few pieces of the puzzle together.  This was indicative of individuals scenes and the film as a whole.  I very easily could have been just another legal drama, but it wasn't.   

Read any good books lately (other than your Bible, Shady, I mean, really, enough with the incessant Bible-thumping...I told you I'd build your Church of the Third Revelation as soon as we hit oil, but that doesn't mean you can just march onto the drilling sight in the middle of our operation.  You know it can be dangerous, just think of what happened to H.W.)

Somehow, I have to spruce up a video that has nothing spruce-able.  Laterz!
 So Plutonium isn't naturally occurring....

So I watched Sunshine, directed by Danny Boyle, which since I'm not sure if you've seen, Shady, I'll just quote our friend Seth Bach (Remember?  Seth Bach who didin't invite either of us to his wedding), remember how he said its like a space/tech-movie (like 2001) and then it becomes a 'oh crap, there are zombies on my ship'-movie.  Danny Boyle is really gifted, and I consider him a director in my Director's Pantheon.  I think Trainspotting and 28 Days Later are in my Top Ten Movies List, and Slumdog Millionaire is probably in the Top Fifty.  One thing I noticed about these four Danny Bole films is that they're each sorta' two movies in one.  They have a four act structure that makes it feel like two movies, so Sunshine is 2001 for 50 minutes and then Alien for 50 as well.  Trainspotting is still sort of the same movie, but the point of no-return is probably the death of the baby, and there's a lot of movie left after that point.  28 Days Later is probably the most distinct (I left that vague on purpose, again, incase you haven't seen the movie.  And if you haven't seen the movie, go out and buy/rent it right now.  Now!  And if you're stuck in the middle of Sequoia National Forrest, then carve a series of images into the bark of the trees representing man's arrogance and violence as being indicative of the animal within us, and then stare at those images for 90-minutes...also, if you have access to a guitar, strum it so that the tune slowly builds in intensity while you stare at your carvings...also, stop molesting that pine tree...longest-parenthetical-statement-ever).  Slumdog definitely feels that way as well with the turning point being the release of Jamal.  This entire paragraph feels like something better discussed over the phone than in the blog, which I think is the first instance of something like that.

I found out my local dinner no longer serves fried chicken, and that's devastating....  

What a needlessly deprived life this has been.  If one assumes a plan to life, then that would seem to imply that the deprivation was not needless.  Perhaps, it goes back to The Cosmic Game of Chess of Bartleby vs. Universe, and the Universe's efforts to humble me?  Would humility be a good result of all the failure and deprivation?  I think so, especially if, as I suspect, I'd be an Ass of Epic Proportions if I succeed (maybe I shouldn't have chosen the word Ass with Epic Proportions?  Sadly my first choice was dick, but then I self-censored myself.  'Self-censored myself' is brought to by the Department of Redundancy Department, makers of Wet Rain and Hot Fire).  

Also, do you remember the name of that replicant from our unit that flew air-cover for us on Tannhauser?  The one that took out the C-Beams?  Roy something, right?  Its been a while, Shady....  FIfty-years later, and sometimes I still wake up with a cold sweat in the middle of night, thinking we'll be wiped out this time if the cluster incendiaries can't unhinge the gate....

Have you ever seen the second season o the show Extras (not the entertainment news show Extra, but the comedy starring Ricky Gervais)?  Its pretty good.  The first season was good, but the second was better, as is frequently the case with shows.  They sort of figure things out in the first season and really get rolling in the second.  Think of the spandex-clad first season of Star Trek:TNG.  All of this to say...can you imagine how amazing Firefly: Season Three would have been?

The Blog is Dead, God Save the Blog....

...I hope you get that subject title, Shady.  It what they say when a King dies.  The Kind is Dead, God save the King (the second King referring to the new king, who was just the Crown Prince...such a long explanation for so little umph!).  Sorry I didn't call you back last time we spoke.  I got another phone call and didn't switch over fast enough and then fell asleep and there was lightning and maybe a squadron of helicopter gunship that blew up my phone...somehow I fell asleep didn't seem sufficient...so I made up that stuff, you know, the part about the gunships...it never happened...unless you buy the theory of the quantum multiverse (You've been Replaced, Universe!  You tired, old, biatch!)  that for every decision made, there's actually another universe in which the other outcome was selected, so all possibilities of any choice ever made are in existence (there was a really good ST:TNG episode where Worf was traveling through different Universes in the Multiverse).  Ergo, there's a universe in which Shady's company didn't win the bid on G-Force and life was good, or a universe in which Shady never moved out West, or a universe in which Shady and Bartleby never made it out of 'Nam...and Universe in which my phone was destroyed by a squadron of helicopter gunships...so maybe it did happen?  Also, wouldn't there be a universe in which someone or some group of people developed a device to collapse all the multiverses out of existence, therein rendering the theory obsolete?...Meh....

Last week was my Bi-Monthly Blog Crap-out Week, which as all Phantom Readers know was agreed upon in The Great Convention of The Blog, signed by Shady, myself, and the Emperor Muad'Dib...but I'm still a little worried at the lack of awareness of the blog when it comes to my day-to-day life.  As in, for a while I wasn't thinking about the blog.  In an entry full of lame excuses, here's another:  I blame Combat Arms.  Lame but true...well, maybe its more accurate to say I blame my inability to pry myself from the game.  While that may be more accurate, its more painful and depressing, so I'll just blame the game instead.  Damn you, Combat Arms!  Some of it might be Blog Burnout induced by the three-entries a week quota.  I sorta' miss the glory days of the blog, but perhaps they will return in a something like a rage against something like a light that's, I dunno, dying or something (pure eloquence).

I don't know if you've noticed, Shady, but I hate tags.  Tags?  You know, those things that help to organize blog entries (my blog template has them, but I can't see them on your blog page).  So I put tags like 'tags suck' as a tag.  Why?  So that when tags gets home and his wife asks how his day was, he sighs and the crushing weight on his shoulders feels just a little heavier....  Now I realize that tags are somewhat useful (don't tell him I said that...I want that bast@rd to pay...he knows why....), because finding entries for hyperlinking or whatever is hard, dude.  So for this entry I'm thinking 'multiverse crap-out tags suck birthday'

I turned 30 yesterday (That's true, Phantom Readers, no blog fakery there...or both Bartleby and real-Bartleby have the same birthday).  June 9.  They say that 30 is the new 20, but I still feel 17....the only downside is the idea that I'm on my way to 40, which is undeniably old.  I know you once said that 26 is the dividing line between Team Old and Team Young, but I still feel young...until I hang out with someone who's 18 and lives in a pseudo-gray-area between ADHD and cognizance thanks to a life infiltrated to the core by getting information/gratification now (NOW!).  Then, in those rare cases, I feel not young.  And I'm happier for it.

The Dueling Blog:  Balls Will Drop

Also, check out the music address I included near the tags, its from Sunshine, that Danny Boyle movie I still haven't seen.  I think you didn't like the movie (?), but I think this track is inspiring.