In a strange town car, heading back to our hotel in San Fran. Really hope it's a real cab and not the start to a horror movie. Unbelievably good dinner at Water Bar, crazy beautiful view of the Bridge. When I don't die and get back to the hotel I might be able to write more. For now, I plan to get another round with mon petite frere, whom I may solicit for guest content. Stay tuned. Cab updates are hard to type.
So we ended up in a tiki bar called the Tonga Room. It was something straight out of Fear and Loathing in Las Vegas. It was a bar that my parents (completely succinctly) described as Epcot Center meets your alcoholic tendencies. Little did I know it was basicLly made for me.
It rained every thirty minutes, which is practically a guarantee for Warm Fuzzy Viewings. Also, as if I needed to stress this awesomely kitschy moment, the band was on a float in the middle of the pool. Updates S they become available.
Love,
jToycen
2.06.2011
2.05.2011
Aeronaut
I'm somewhere over the plains right now, hurtling along in a metal tube. Reminded of Louis C.K.'s bit about not being sufficiently amused by modern tech, I though I'd start poking around and maybe sneak in a post.
So where to start? Like any sane person about to embark on a trip through the airline system, I indulged in some preflight cocktails, so forgive my scattered musings.
Trapped on a plane and left to my own devices, i typically turn to a book. This flight made me fidgety, though, and I couldn't concentrate. Looking for a diversion I grabbed my trusty, well worn nintendo DS, a pleasant little distraction I only pulled out when bored or on a trip. While it's definitely been a worthwhile investment I occasionally forget all about it, only realizing it's there after buying tickets and packing a carry on bag. I guess I almost grab it out of habit. As a result the games I have are only ones I've really felt compelled to get - there's little fluff to my meager collection. Among these choice games are some of the more notable/requisite title for the system. GTA, Mario 64DS, Chrono Trigger (an excellent expanded remake, btw). The superstar among the bunch though?
Scribblenauts.
This game, made by the geniuses at 5th Cell, is both simple and deep. Your goal is just "get the starite" but doing so involves a task, anything from rescuing a princess to opening a traffic jam. How you go about doing that is the real trick of the game. Sporting a dictionary of over 20,000 words, you merely write an object and it appears. It's amazingly detailed, too. You want a boat? What kind? Yacht, schooner, dingy, hovercraft, raft, jet ski. They're all in there. Need something for self defense? Swords, guns, military equipment, ufos. You can create a black hole and suck up effecting on the screen just for the hell of it. Have to get to sunken treasure? Submarine! Shark in the way? Cthulu! Here's fun - summon a zombie and watch him infect any other people around. Cows run from ufos, bakers love pies, ninjas fight robots, vampires fight werewolves. It's a game that seems to have anticipated your every move. Even Memes from the web are in the list - long cat, philosoraptor, it's there.
Plane air is making me groggy, kinda sky drunk, not gonna keep pushing this. Timing is everything, so I'm wrapping here for now. Maybe more later.
So where to start? Like any sane person about to embark on a trip through the airline system, I indulged in some preflight cocktails, so forgive my scattered musings.
Trapped on a plane and left to my own devices, i typically turn to a book. This flight made me fidgety, though, and I couldn't concentrate. Looking for a diversion I grabbed my trusty, well worn nintendo DS, a pleasant little distraction I only pulled out when bored or on a trip. While it's definitely been a worthwhile investment I occasionally forget all about it, only realizing it's there after buying tickets and packing a carry on bag. I guess I almost grab it out of habit. As a result the games I have are only ones I've really felt compelled to get - there's little fluff to my meager collection. Among these choice games are some of the more notable/requisite title for the system. GTA, Mario 64DS, Chrono Trigger (an excellent expanded remake, btw). The superstar among the bunch though?
Scribblenauts.
This game, made by the geniuses at 5th Cell, is both simple and deep. Your goal is just "get the starite" but doing so involves a task, anything from rescuing a princess to opening a traffic jam. How you go about doing that is the real trick of the game. Sporting a dictionary of over 20,000 words, you merely write an object and it appears. It's amazingly detailed, too. You want a boat? What kind? Yacht, schooner, dingy, hovercraft, raft, jet ski. They're all in there. Need something for self defense? Swords, guns, military equipment, ufos. You can create a black hole and suck up effecting on the screen just for the hell of it. Have to get to sunken treasure? Submarine! Shark in the way? Cthulu! Here's fun - summon a zombie and watch him infect any other people around. Cows run from ufos, bakers love pies, ninjas fight robots, vampires fight werewolves. It's a game that seems to have anticipated your every move. Even Memes from the web are in the list - long cat, philosoraptor, it's there.
Plane air is making me groggy, kinda sky drunk, not gonna keep pushing this. Timing is everything, so I'm wrapping here for now. Maybe more later.
2.03.2011
Ducking Out
In the lieu of a proper column today (and the fact that they tend to be long winded, rambling diatribes as of late) I want to give notice that for the next few days posting will be on an erratic and most likely reduced schedule. Due to familial obligations I will be travelling to California until the middle of next week and as a matter of course I won't have regular access to a proper computer. While I would love to be able to sit down and bang out a proper post every day, even if just for the mental exercise, it simply may not fit into my schedule. Hopefully I can sneak in a break or two while I'm abroad, but at the present I have no expectations for down time to write. Ideally I would have had a backlog of material, but what little there is, isn't fit for posting at the moment.
However, this is not to say there will be a complete dearth of material. I will have my phone with me, as well as a trick or two up my sleeve, so I plan on doing a few impromptu posts on what strikes me at the time. Additionally if you haven't noticed the twitter feed to the right, you can follow me @jdtoycen for updates, observations and whatever the world throws at me. I'll be in San Francisco attending some events, so if things get weird and wacky I'll just start shooting from the hip. Or maybe if I get a stream of consciousness thing going I'll just post whatever happens throughout the day. I'm already rambling the the thought, mentally chomping at the bit to get going, so whatever happens, happens. Stay tuned and see what unfolds!
Until next week.
Let's see what happens!
However, this is not to say there will be a complete dearth of material. I will have my phone with me, as well as a trick or two up my sleeve, so I plan on doing a few impromptu posts on what strikes me at the time. Additionally if you haven't noticed the twitter feed to the right, you can follow me @jdtoycen for updates, observations and whatever the world throws at me. I'll be in San Francisco attending some events, so if things get weird and wacky I'll just start shooting from the hip. Or maybe if I get a stream of consciousness thing going I'll just post whatever happens throughout the day. I'm already rambling the the thought, mentally chomping at the bit to get going, so whatever happens, happens. Stay tuned and see what unfolds!
Until next week.
Let's see what happens!
2.02.2011
Arcade Fiend
All right, readers.
Another day, another tale of lost and found, memories just barely flashing on the edge of my subconcious.
As a kid in the Midwest, I spent my share of time in arcades and Circus Pizzas. Lots of great times to be had, playing games with friends and eating the horribly greasy and bland pizza that, for reasons unbekownst to me, was always cut into squares. To this day I hold a deep love and appreciation for the game, the glory, that is Skeeball. There is no activity like it, whatsoever. There's something unique yet elusive about it, something in the tactile sensation of rolling the wooden balls up the ramp. The unmatchable satisfaction for getting the bulls eye in the center. When I happen on a game as a grown man I can't resist the compulsion to indulge, no matter the amount of sore knees and shoulders afterword. No one said getting older is easy, after all. Cocktails are the difference, I find. What was whimsy as a kid is replaced by light inebriation and arrested development as someone in their late twenties. Alas, my love for Skeeball is not why I write this.
No, my friends.
Today's post is of another mystery solved! Like my post on Depresso, it's a tale of the internet leading me to what I had lost and forgotten.
Read on!
For years I had hazy memories of a game that I was enthralled with, yet whose name escaped me. My friend Scott and I would plunk down our quarters, sit in a cockpit, and steer a hover-craft type vehicle through tunnels and futuristic city-scapes, blasting aliens and hurtling forward with unstoppable momentum. It was a blast! The graphics I could recall were, at the time, mind blowing. Sure, there were plenty of other great games - Street Fighter II, the excellent Simpsons arcade game, the bizarre Play Choice 10 cabinets and even the legendary 6-player X-Men cabinets. Of course, my beloved Skeeball. None of these, however, held the same feel, the same je ne sais quois, that this strange, frenetic After Burner clone held. Looking back now, I realize it was de riguer for the time - mode 7 scaling, sleek Blade Runner-style cityscapes. The music was interesting too, as I recall.
Time passed, attention wandered. I discovered girls. I started playing music. Basically my life moved on from the arcades right before the arcades started to die out, anyway, so the timing was congruent with my forgetting the game. Years later, though, it came back to me. I don't even know why. It may have been a trip to Gameworks in Minneapolis. It may have been something I saw while surfing the web instead of writing a paper in college. Whatever it was, the memories started to come back, if only slightly. I had just the vaguest memories of playing the game, whatever it was. Gripping the joystick, feeling like I was holding on for dear life as I dodged attacks and steered through canals and tunnels. Laden with nostalgia, I wanted to play it again, maybe just to see if it held up, or maybe just to relive my childhood in the smallest, silliest way. But there was a problem.
I couldn't for the life of me remember the title.
All I knew were some of the vaguest details - the type of game, what it looked and felt like. I couldn't even nail down the year. How old was I? Was it 1991? 92? 94? No idea. So, completely blind on the web, I started to look, casually at first. It was one of those things I would pick up sporadically - twenty minutes here or there on Google or a vintage gaming site. I was hindered by my lack of specifics. At one point I stumbled onto the sprawling Arcade Game Museum and their wonderfully refinable search engine. Still, nothing came up that was right. Things were close, but nothing hit it on the head.
Toward the end of a work day I mentioned it to a coworker. It was slowly growing an bothering me. The more I searched the more I grew frustrated. I just wanted to know what it was at this point. I knew it existed, it had to have a title. He mused along with me, saying "So it was like some tunnel-racing thing?" It dawned on me to just try putting some descriptors like that into the search bar. What came up was closer than ever - a similar if less refined game called S.T.U.N. Runner. Indeed it was a tunnel racer, as the genre was known. So, I had a genre to work with. I kept poking away, bit by bit, patience increasing with every refinement of the terms.
Then I saw it.
A screenshot from the game. It was a eureka moment in the nerdiest way. Eagerly, I clicked on the link and lo and behold - the game. Released by Taito of Japan, it was called Night Striker. No wonder I couldn't recall it - the title was so generic it might as well have not had one. But there it was! In a rush it all came back - hunching over in the cabinet, yelling at the screen and elbowing my friend Scott as he grabbed the controls for his turn. The sounds of the arcade, the noise of other games in the background, feeling like you're the baddest kid in the world when you're nine years old. Nostalgia is a strange thing.
I may or may not have found a legal way to experience playing the game again, but suffice it to say I was able to satisfy the beast of childhood memories with a computer program and some ridiculous YouTube videos. It's pretty cheesy and dated, but take a look - seeing this awesomely old school game in action just makes me feel like a kid in the best way. To me it was like finding your old action figures and remembering the good times you had as a kid. It's another mystery I've been able to solve in my adult life, thanks once again to the depths of the web. Hell or high water, it's out there for finding, provided you know where to look. Happy hunting, kids.
Another day, another tale of lost and found, memories just barely flashing on the edge of my subconcious.
As a kid in the Midwest, I spent my share of time in arcades and Circus Pizzas. Lots of great times to be had, playing games with friends and eating the horribly greasy and bland pizza that, for reasons unbekownst to me, was always cut into squares. To this day I hold a deep love and appreciation for the game, the glory, that is Skeeball. There is no activity like it, whatsoever. There's something unique yet elusive about it, something in the tactile sensation of rolling the wooden balls up the ramp. The unmatchable satisfaction for getting the bulls eye in the center. When I happen on a game as a grown man I can't resist the compulsion to indulge, no matter the amount of sore knees and shoulders afterword. No one said getting older is easy, after all. Cocktails are the difference, I find. What was whimsy as a kid is replaced by light inebriation and arrested development as someone in their late twenties. Alas, my love for Skeeball is not why I write this.
No, my friends.
Today's post is of another mystery solved! Like my post on Depresso, it's a tale of the internet leading me to what I had lost and forgotten.
Read on!
For years I had hazy memories of a game that I was enthralled with, yet whose name escaped me. My friend Scott and I would plunk down our quarters, sit in a cockpit, and steer a hover-craft type vehicle through tunnels and futuristic city-scapes, blasting aliens and hurtling forward with unstoppable momentum. It was a blast! The graphics I could recall were, at the time, mind blowing. Sure, there were plenty of other great games - Street Fighter II, the excellent Simpsons arcade game, the bizarre Play Choice 10 cabinets and even the legendary 6-player X-Men cabinets. Of course, my beloved Skeeball. None of these, however, held the same feel, the same je ne sais quois, that this strange, frenetic After Burner clone held. Looking back now, I realize it was de riguer for the time - mode 7 scaling, sleek Blade Runner-style cityscapes. The music was interesting too, as I recall.
Time passed, attention wandered. I discovered girls. I started playing music. Basically my life moved on from the arcades right before the arcades started to die out, anyway, so the timing was congruent with my forgetting the game. Years later, though, it came back to me. I don't even know why. It may have been a trip to Gameworks in Minneapolis. It may have been something I saw while surfing the web instead of writing a paper in college. Whatever it was, the memories started to come back, if only slightly. I had just the vaguest memories of playing the game, whatever it was. Gripping the joystick, feeling like I was holding on for dear life as I dodged attacks and steered through canals and tunnels. Laden with nostalgia, I wanted to play it again, maybe just to see if it held up, or maybe just to relive my childhood in the smallest, silliest way. But there was a problem.
I couldn't for the life of me remember the title.
All I knew were some of the vaguest details - the type of game, what it looked and felt like. I couldn't even nail down the year. How old was I? Was it 1991? 92? 94? No idea. So, completely blind on the web, I started to look, casually at first. It was one of those things I would pick up sporadically - twenty minutes here or there on Google or a vintage gaming site. I was hindered by my lack of specifics. At one point I stumbled onto the sprawling Arcade Game Museum and their wonderfully refinable search engine. Still, nothing came up that was right. Things were close, but nothing hit it on the head.
Toward the end of a work day I mentioned it to a coworker. It was slowly growing an bothering me. The more I searched the more I grew frustrated. I just wanted to know what it was at this point. I knew it existed, it had to have a title. He mused along with me, saying "So it was like some tunnel-racing thing?" It dawned on me to just try putting some descriptors like that into the search bar. What came up was closer than ever - a similar if less refined game called S.T.U.N. Runner. Indeed it was a tunnel racer, as the genre was known. So, I had a genre to work with. I kept poking away, bit by bit, patience increasing with every refinement of the terms.
Then I saw it.
A screenshot from the game. It was a eureka moment in the nerdiest way. Eagerly, I clicked on the link and lo and behold - the game. Released by Taito of Japan, it was called Night Striker. No wonder I couldn't recall it - the title was so generic it might as well have not had one. But there it was! In a rush it all came back - hunching over in the cabinet, yelling at the screen and elbowing my friend Scott as he grabbed the controls for his turn. The sounds of the arcade, the noise of other games in the background, feeling like you're the baddest kid in the world when you're nine years old. Nostalgia is a strange thing.
I may or may not have found a legal way to experience playing the game again, but suffice it to say I was able to satisfy the beast of childhood memories with a computer program and some ridiculous YouTube videos. It's pretty cheesy and dated, but take a look - seeing this awesomely old school game in action just makes me feel like a kid in the best way. To me it was like finding your old action figures and remembering the good times you had as a kid. It's another mystery I've been able to solve in my adult life, thanks once again to the depths of the web. Hell or high water, it's out there for finding, provided you know where to look. Happy hunting, kids.
2.01.2011
Walls of Text
Hmm...
Okay.
The Stand.
One of my favorite books by one of my favorite authors. In college I briefly flirted with majoring in English (if it isn't painfully apparent) and I remember the withering looks I'd get for even mentioning Stephen King. As someone who has read a significant portion of his work I am all too aware of the jokes and perceived quirks. The term I've heard most commonly is schlock, which...I get. Crazy or hokey premises. That actually seems to be a more recent development. The Family Guy gag about a 'lamp monster'? Turns out it wasn't too far off the mark. His recent collection, Just After Sunset, while full of interesting stories, does contain one about what essentially is a haunted exercise bike. Yeah.
Despite these obvious flaws, there is plenty worth defending. Some of his character work is absolutely outstanding, particularly his early work. Do we discount U2 and all their bland posturing despite their historic early work? Or say, Kubrick and his decent into muddled results in his later years? Carrie stands out. So does The Shining, which also was turned into a phenomenal film by Kubrick. Hell, look at some of the movies that have been adapted from King's novels - The Green Mile. Stand By Me, The Shawshank Redemption and the recent re-teaming with Frank Darabont for the grim and gritty Mist, based on a spectacular novella. Basically it boils down to King taking flack from the academia but writing widely popular material. So why do I advocate a popular if hackneyed author? Because one of his best, if almost forgotten these days, novels has recently been green lit for production as a major motion picture. You should read it before the hype grows and fades, only to leave the inevitable bad taste in your mouth of a Hollywood book adaptation.
King has (somewhat sheepishly) admitted that his secret intention when starting The Stand was to essentially create a modern, American take on Tolkien's Lord of the Rings. Obviously it's an arrogant and overly ambitious thing to do. The crazy thing is, though, is he came pretty damn close. It's a massive, sprawling book, full of richly drawn characters and tons of vivid scenery. Do yourself a favor if you undertake the book - pick up the expanded and uncut edition, which clocks in at an almost obscene 1141 pages. If you don't like it you can always hollow it out and store a Bible inside. It's that big. But go for it! It's worth it to get the extra flesh on the characters and subtle plot developments.
I'm getting ahead of myself, though.
The book stemmed from King overhearing a piece on the radio about a chemical spill that killed a large amount of sheep in Utah. Had the wind shifted slightly, Salt Lake City would have been affected instead of livestock. While it made the news at the time, it was quickly swept under the rug with surprisingly little fanfare. The inherent potential in such an idea was immediately apparent to King. What sets the ball in motion for the whole novel, then, is the accidental release of a superbug, a flu-like virus, from a chemical/germ lab in the desert. One man and his family make it out and the first section of the novel traces the spread of the disease as we are introduced to some of the characters. This opening volley has been hailed as some of King's best work for its honest voice and believable setting. It's not until the bug spreads and humanity suffers that things get weird.
The flu, or Captain Tripps as it comes to be known, turns out to be 99.99% fatal. It spreads across the country with ease, since people were dismissing it as allergies or a cold at first onset. We meet our cast, people from all walks of life, as it culls the population. Society starts to break down and people, understandably, wig out. Larry Underwood, one-hit wonder and washing-up rocker, experiences a creepily deserted New York, empty but for that surviving .01%. King does an amazing job of painting the picture in this section of the book. Things simply break down and slowdown to a halt. Reactors blow. Bodies rot. Many people die alone. It really is disturbing and terrifying.
We've only just begun!
The people we've met thus far begin to have dreams, vivid ones, of a corn field in Boulder. Either subconsciously or just out of desperation, our cast heads west, towards Boulder, CO. As various cast and crew converge along the way, alliances are formed and pockets of humanity agree to work together. Arrival in Boulder brings about the formation of an ad hoc society of survivors, led in part (though she would rather not have it) by a 108 year old woman named Abigail Freemantle.
At the same time, a separate faction of people are compelled to head farther west, to Las Vegas, under the tutelage of a shadowy stranger. He's described in nervous spits as the "dark man" and the "walkin' dude", someone whose eyes you won't want to meet and whose smile makes you sick and uneasy. King's descriptions of this man, this force of a person, are eerie and strange, effective in the best way. As these people settle into their lives and going about the business of getting back to civilization a conflict begins to emerge and a showdown is inevitable.
Obviously condensing over 1100 pages into a few paragraphs does no justice to the saga. It's a staggering work of world-creation and character development that King constructs bit by bit, until you're deep into the novel with a rich cast of people (and a lovable dog, natch) all with fleshed out, believable motivations. The ambition to do the Americanized Ring cycle was insane, but rewarding. What results is a book that is so real and rich that I've read it twice and plan on going in for round three somewhere down the line. It's made an impact on others as well. Many of his fans cite it as his best work. It's clear that he was at the height of his game when King wrote this. Whether you're on a plane or trapped inside due to the incoming blizzards, I highly suggest you give this book a go.
Chemical warfare. Germ labs. The last people on Earth. Sometimes King's scary material isn't the supernatural, but the dangers of our modern world. He hit it on the head in this case. It's a fantastic book, in every sense of the word. Happy reading, and sleep tight, kids. After all, it's not like this could ever happen in real life, right?
Okay.
The Stand.
One of my favorite books by one of my favorite authors. In college I briefly flirted with majoring in English (if it isn't painfully apparent) and I remember the withering looks I'd get for even mentioning Stephen King. As someone who has read a significant portion of his work I am all too aware of the jokes and perceived quirks. The term I've heard most commonly is schlock, which...I get. Crazy or hokey premises. That actually seems to be a more recent development. The Family Guy gag about a 'lamp monster'? Turns out it wasn't too far off the mark. His recent collection, Just After Sunset, while full of interesting stories, does contain one about what essentially is a haunted exercise bike. Yeah.
Despite these obvious flaws, there is plenty worth defending. Some of his character work is absolutely outstanding, particularly his early work. Do we discount U2 and all their bland posturing despite their historic early work? Or say, Kubrick and his decent into muddled results in his later years? Carrie stands out. So does The Shining, which also was turned into a phenomenal film by Kubrick. Hell, look at some of the movies that have been adapted from King's novels - The Green Mile. Stand By Me, The Shawshank Redemption and the recent re-teaming with Frank Darabont for the grim and gritty Mist, based on a spectacular novella. Basically it boils down to King taking flack from the academia but writing widely popular material. So why do I advocate a popular if hackneyed author? Because one of his best, if almost forgotten these days, novels has recently been green lit for production as a major motion picture. You should read it before the hype grows and fades, only to leave the inevitable bad taste in your mouth of a Hollywood book adaptation.
King has (somewhat sheepishly) admitted that his secret intention when starting The Stand was to essentially create a modern, American take on Tolkien's Lord of the Rings. Obviously it's an arrogant and overly ambitious thing to do. The crazy thing is, though, is he came pretty damn close. It's a massive, sprawling book, full of richly drawn characters and tons of vivid scenery. Do yourself a favor if you undertake the book - pick up the expanded and uncut edition, which clocks in at an almost obscene 1141 pages. If you don't like it you can always hollow it out and store a Bible inside. It's that big. But go for it! It's worth it to get the extra flesh on the characters and subtle plot developments.
I'm getting ahead of myself, though.
The book stemmed from King overhearing a piece on the radio about a chemical spill that killed a large amount of sheep in Utah. Had the wind shifted slightly, Salt Lake City would have been affected instead of livestock. While it made the news at the time, it was quickly swept under the rug with surprisingly little fanfare. The inherent potential in such an idea was immediately apparent to King. What sets the ball in motion for the whole novel, then, is the accidental release of a superbug, a flu-like virus, from a chemical/germ lab in the desert. One man and his family make it out and the first section of the novel traces the spread of the disease as we are introduced to some of the characters. This opening volley has been hailed as some of King's best work for its honest voice and believable setting. It's not until the bug spreads and humanity suffers that things get weird.
The flu, or Captain Tripps as it comes to be known, turns out to be 99.99% fatal. It spreads across the country with ease, since people were dismissing it as allergies or a cold at first onset. We meet our cast, people from all walks of life, as it culls the population. Society starts to break down and people, understandably, wig out. Larry Underwood, one-hit wonder and washing-up rocker, experiences a creepily deserted New York, empty but for that surviving .01%. King does an amazing job of painting the picture in this section of the book. Things simply break down and slowdown to a halt. Reactors blow. Bodies rot. Many people die alone. It really is disturbing and terrifying.
We've only just begun!
The people we've met thus far begin to have dreams, vivid ones, of a corn field in Boulder. Either subconsciously or just out of desperation, our cast heads west, towards Boulder, CO. As various cast and crew converge along the way, alliances are formed and pockets of humanity agree to work together. Arrival in Boulder brings about the formation of an ad hoc society of survivors, led in part (though she would rather not have it) by a 108 year old woman named Abigail Freemantle.
At the same time, a separate faction of people are compelled to head farther west, to Las Vegas, under the tutelage of a shadowy stranger. He's described in nervous spits as the "dark man" and the "walkin' dude", someone whose eyes you won't want to meet and whose smile makes you sick and uneasy. King's descriptions of this man, this force of a person, are eerie and strange, effective in the best way. As these people settle into their lives and going about the business of getting back to civilization a conflict begins to emerge and a showdown is inevitable.
Obviously condensing over 1100 pages into a few paragraphs does no justice to the saga. It's a staggering work of world-creation and character development that King constructs bit by bit, until you're deep into the novel with a rich cast of people (and a lovable dog, natch) all with fleshed out, believable motivations. The ambition to do the Americanized Ring cycle was insane, but rewarding. What results is a book that is so real and rich that I've read it twice and plan on going in for round three somewhere down the line. It's made an impact on others as well. Many of his fans cite it as his best work. It's clear that he was at the height of his game when King wrote this. Whether you're on a plane or trapped inside due to the incoming blizzards, I highly suggest you give this book a go.
Chemical warfare. Germ labs. The last people on Earth. Sometimes King's scary material isn't the supernatural, but the dangers of our modern world. He hit it on the head in this case. It's a fantastic book, in every sense of the word. Happy reading, and sleep tight, kids. After all, it's not like this could ever happen in real life, right?
1.31.2011
For Love Of The Game
Happy snowstorm, everyone! I am beginning to think I should consider a move to Alaska, as I seem to be the only person I know who genuinely gets excited by blizzards. In the interest of fighting community-wide cabin fever and the cooped-up-crazies I want to share a treasure trove of entertainment with you.
I speak of Gamespite, a blog I follow devotedly yet of which I have never formally become a member. Bear in mind, though, my reluctance is based only on my personal reticence at being a 'joiner', or a fear of being rejected. I probably sound more neurotic and weird than I intend to here, but I digress. It's thoroughly awesome and you should check it out.
Obvious personal nerdery aside, I love the site for both its content and tone. I first became acquainted with it from listening to the (now sadly defunct) Retronauts podcast from 1UP.com/. The host for the show, Jeremy Parish, has been maintaining the Gamespite domain for the last decade, on and off, as a place to write and host honest, heartfelt critiques about games both new and old. It certainly doesn't need an endorsement from me to keep it's momentum rolling; it's a thriving community that chugs along, creating some of the most interesting breakdowns on video games and culture I've read anywhere. Honestly, the driving factor behind my writing this article evangelizing the site is simply that I think Gamespite deserves the accolade and attention.
The site has become a repository for insightful and detailed articles on everything from psychological profiles on the background players in Nintendo games, to a forum full of some of the most intelligent, kind, and above all witty members, on the internet. Additionally there is the fantastic 'Let's Play!' section, where you can vicariously experience a game, either to relive it or experience it for the first time, most often with incredibly funny commentary that makes the experience akin to a modern MST3K. All of this and more, gathered and maintained by the persistent and prolific Parish.
While Parish has made no bones about his own passions, among them Klonoa and Mega Man Legends, he has been a well-rounded editor and publishes a broad cross section of the world of electronic gaming. The lion's share of the posts come from Parish himself, with contributor's columns being collected into themed issues he's dubbed Gamespite Quarterly, available for purchase in both soft and hardcover. Themes for issues go in suites, such as one for Heroes and another for Villains. The varying authors show their love for the overlooked and unsung, writing on sidekicks and bitplayers that they hold dear to their hearts. Other times its heavy, analytical critiques on the nature of choice in the medium, like Bioshock or Maniac Mansion. If all of this sounds way to intricately involved in the culture, try looking for something as familiar and famous as Mario and the impact its had on society.
What I find to be most enjoyable about the collective writings as a whole is the tone of the work - it's approached with both a reverence and light-hearted sense of humor, with little of the typical snark endemic of video game communities. Of course, this is not to say there is a dearth of knowing winks and elbows in the ribs, but the mood is one of appreciation and contemplative study that shows a genuine love of the subject matter. Take, for example, this massive list of articles, freely available for perusing.
If it seems like I'm rambling on in a disjointed matter, it's probably an accurate assessment,. It's most likely due to the over abundance of material that's been gathering over the years. For my non-gaming brethren it may seem like a shot in the dark into a niche community, but to a large part of the internet it's a well known haven, a group of friends and family that just seem to get each other. It's a place for kindred spirits to find people to play online with (Who Don't Suck, according to the thread title, in an inspired stroke of social networking) or to share their appreciation for heavy metal. It's a massive community that just exudes positivity.
Check Gamespite out, and if you have any interest in ye olden days of gaming, the Retronauts podcast is still available at the site linked above as well as iTunes. Take a look and see what you find.
I speak of Gamespite, a blog I follow devotedly yet of which I have never formally become a member. Bear in mind, though, my reluctance is based only on my personal reticence at being a 'joiner', or a fear of being rejected. I probably sound more neurotic and weird than I intend to here, but I digress. It's thoroughly awesome and you should check it out.
Obvious personal nerdery aside, I love the site for both its content and tone. I first became acquainted with it from listening to the (now sadly defunct) Retronauts podcast from 1UP.com/. The host for the show, Jeremy Parish, has been maintaining the Gamespite domain for the last decade, on and off, as a place to write and host honest, heartfelt critiques about games both new and old. It certainly doesn't need an endorsement from me to keep it's momentum rolling; it's a thriving community that chugs along, creating some of the most interesting breakdowns on video games and culture I've read anywhere. Honestly, the driving factor behind my writing this article evangelizing the site is simply that I think Gamespite deserves the accolade and attention.
The site has become a repository for insightful and detailed articles on everything from psychological profiles on the background players in Nintendo games, to a forum full of some of the most intelligent, kind, and above all witty members, on the internet. Additionally there is the fantastic 'Let's Play!' section, where you can vicariously experience a game, either to relive it or experience it for the first time, most often with incredibly funny commentary that makes the experience akin to a modern MST3K. All of this and more, gathered and maintained by the persistent and prolific Parish.
While Parish has made no bones about his own passions, among them Klonoa and Mega Man Legends, he has been a well-rounded editor and publishes a broad cross section of the world of electronic gaming. The lion's share of the posts come from Parish himself, with contributor's columns being collected into themed issues he's dubbed Gamespite Quarterly, available for purchase in both soft and hardcover. Themes for issues go in suites, such as one for Heroes and another for Villains. The varying authors show their love for the overlooked and unsung, writing on sidekicks and bitplayers that they hold dear to their hearts. Other times its heavy, analytical critiques on the nature of choice in the medium, like Bioshock or Maniac Mansion. If all of this sounds way to intricately involved in the culture, try looking for something as familiar and famous as Mario and the impact its had on society.
What I find to be most enjoyable about the collective writings as a whole is the tone of the work - it's approached with both a reverence and light-hearted sense of humor, with little of the typical snark endemic of video game communities. Of course, this is not to say there is a dearth of knowing winks and elbows in the ribs, but the mood is one of appreciation and contemplative study that shows a genuine love of the subject matter. Take, for example, this massive list of articles, freely available for perusing.
If it seems like I'm rambling on in a disjointed matter, it's probably an accurate assessment,. It's most likely due to the over abundance of material that's been gathering over the years. For my non-gaming brethren it may seem like a shot in the dark into a niche community, but to a large part of the internet it's a well known haven, a group of friends and family that just seem to get each other. It's a place for kindred spirits to find people to play online with (Who Don't Suck, according to the thread title, in an inspired stroke of social networking) or to share their appreciation for heavy metal. It's a massive community that just exudes positivity.
Check Gamespite out, and if you have any interest in ye olden days of gaming, the Retronauts podcast is still available at the site linked above as well as iTunes. Take a look and see what you find.
1.30.2011
Modern Prog Rock
Evening, all.
Long day of typical Sunday stuff - errands, groceries, cleaning, sweeping, vacuuming, exercising and to counteract the exercise - a massive meal of the most delicious, and above all healthy, tacos I've ever had. So I write this in a bit of a dozing food coma, battling fatigue and the nods. Accordingly today's post will be a bit truncated, but fully formed regardless. I thought I'd expound a bit on my favorite album of all time, which is also a bit of a guilty pleasure. While I've already written about the Smashing Pumpkins, today we look at their exceptional offering, Siamese Dream.
Recorded in the early winter of 1993 in Georgia, the album marked a turning point for the band. Notoriously egocentric frontman and driving force Billy Corgan began writing from a much more personal perspective and, under the watchful eye of producer Butch Vig, started down one of the most prolific and high quality segments of his artistic career. An aside here - Vig is a known 'personality', i.e. a strong opinioned musician whose career has brought high praise as well as personal scorn, but his output, as well as involvement in the odd-ball band Garbage (another 90s favorite of mine), are fit for another day's post. To acknowledge his involvement in the album is to put it in another category, one that is also associated with interpersonal conflicts as well as incredible results.
Moving on.
The band struggled through the sessions, with varying results. Corgan's neurotic and obsessive work ethic resulted in amazing craftsmanship, but at the sacrifice of his relationships with his band mates. According to legend, he not only locked guitarist James Iha and bassist D'arcy Wretzky out of the recording booth, but ended up re-recording everything the pair had lain down by that point. Another well known factoid is that Corgan went crazy on the overdubs and 'aural construction' of the album by putting a whopping 70 overdubs on a single lick in the song 'Soma' just to create the proper tone. Despite the descent into blind ambition, the album turned out to be a master stroke, and was heralded (at the time) to be their best work.
While the band was and continues to be regarded in some circles as blatant careerists and corporate shills, the music on Siamese Dream speaks for itself. 14 songs, all in a row, show the massive jump the band had made from their debut album, Gish, to here. They (or Corgan, if you prefer the insinuations) had gone from psychedelic rock and flailing, jangly chords to streamlined, intensely rhythmic riff-age and stadium sized hooks. The songwriting quality was also leaps and bounds beyond what they had previously accomplished. The first single for the album, and my favorite song of my lifetime, the straight-ahead power-pop 'Today' was written after a bout of writers block. It's straightforward nature almost stands in defiance of the struggles that had prevented its creation. The sweeping, lush 'Disarm' served as a signature stamp of what the band's sound would be in their acoustic mode, moody and sorrowful. The album opener, 'Cherub Rock', is a signifier of the new sound, starting with a drum roll and building, octave chord riff that crescendos into an undeniably catchy song that stays with you long after it ends.
The band clearly came into their own with this album. By creating simple, accessible songs like the weeping and droningly beautiful 'Mayonnaise' or the brooding and powerful 'Soma' the band honed their distinctive sound that set them apart from the grunge sound-alikes of the era. While their peers and rivals focused on dirges and lo-fi indie rock, here was an album of polished and obsessively micromanaged prog rock. It was almost iconoclastic move, at this point in the music scene, to be so knowingly well-practiced when the easy money was on slouching, flannel driven grunge.
Rather than ramble on for another 500 words about how great this album is and why you should be listening to it, I'll let it speak for itself. Either it will move you or it won't. Good music stands the test of time and I keep coming back to this album, no matter how many times I've heard it. The craftsmanship and mood of the album just speak to me on a personal level. It may be due more to where I was in my life when I first heard it and how it affected me, but I feel today that the music does stand the test of time. Oddball or not, anal-retentiveness aside, I love Siamese Dream.
Long day of typical Sunday stuff - errands, groceries, cleaning, sweeping, vacuuming, exercising and to counteract the exercise - a massive meal of the most delicious, and above all healthy, tacos I've ever had. So I write this in a bit of a dozing food coma, battling fatigue and the nods. Accordingly today's post will be a bit truncated, but fully formed regardless. I thought I'd expound a bit on my favorite album of all time, which is also a bit of a guilty pleasure. While I've already written about the Smashing Pumpkins, today we look at their exceptional offering, Siamese Dream.
Recorded in the early winter of 1993 in Georgia, the album marked a turning point for the band. Notoriously egocentric frontman and driving force Billy Corgan began writing from a much more personal perspective and, under the watchful eye of producer Butch Vig, started down one of the most prolific and high quality segments of his artistic career. An aside here - Vig is a known 'personality', i.e. a strong opinioned musician whose career has brought high praise as well as personal scorn, but his output, as well as involvement in the odd-ball band Garbage (another 90s favorite of mine), are fit for another day's post. To acknowledge his involvement in the album is to put it in another category, one that is also associated with interpersonal conflicts as well as incredible results.
Moving on.
The band struggled through the sessions, with varying results. Corgan's neurotic and obsessive work ethic resulted in amazing craftsmanship, but at the sacrifice of his relationships with his band mates. According to legend, he not only locked guitarist James Iha and bassist D'arcy Wretzky out of the recording booth, but ended up re-recording everything the pair had lain down by that point. Another well known factoid is that Corgan went crazy on the overdubs and 'aural construction' of the album by putting a whopping 70 overdubs on a single lick in the song 'Soma' just to create the proper tone. Despite the descent into blind ambition, the album turned out to be a master stroke, and was heralded (at the time) to be their best work.
While the band was and continues to be regarded in some circles as blatant careerists and corporate shills, the music on Siamese Dream speaks for itself. 14 songs, all in a row, show the massive jump the band had made from their debut album, Gish, to here. They (or Corgan, if you prefer the insinuations) had gone from psychedelic rock and flailing, jangly chords to streamlined, intensely rhythmic riff-age and stadium sized hooks. The songwriting quality was also leaps and bounds beyond what they had previously accomplished. The first single for the album, and my favorite song of my lifetime, the straight-ahead power-pop 'Today' was written after a bout of writers block. It's straightforward nature almost stands in defiance of the struggles that had prevented its creation. The sweeping, lush 'Disarm' served as a signature stamp of what the band's sound would be in their acoustic mode, moody and sorrowful. The album opener, 'Cherub Rock', is a signifier of the new sound, starting with a drum roll and building, octave chord riff that crescendos into an undeniably catchy song that stays with you long after it ends.
The band clearly came into their own with this album. By creating simple, accessible songs like the weeping and droningly beautiful 'Mayonnaise' or the brooding and powerful 'Soma' the band honed their distinctive sound that set them apart from the grunge sound-alikes of the era. While their peers and rivals focused on dirges and lo-fi indie rock, here was an album of polished and obsessively micromanaged prog rock. It was almost iconoclastic move, at this point in the music scene, to be so knowingly well-practiced when the easy money was on slouching, flannel driven grunge.
Rather than ramble on for another 500 words about how great this album is and why you should be listening to it, I'll let it speak for itself. Either it will move you or it won't. Good music stands the test of time and I keep coming back to this album, no matter how many times I've heard it. The craftsmanship and mood of the album just speak to me on a personal level. It may be due more to where I was in my life when I first heard it and how it affected me, but I feel today that the music does stand the test of time. Oddball or not, anal-retentiveness aside, I love Siamese Dream.
1.29.2011
Of Dubious Legality
Okay, for the first time in what feels like a week I'm doing a legitimate, full-on post.
Alright, enough stalling - let's get right to it. I'm using today's space to examine a concept I had been aware of yet only looked into in the last year. Something of questionable moral and legal territory. Something which deserves a look, frankly. That something is Fan Edits.
While the idea of alternate cuts by people other than the original productions of movies had gained notoriety as far back as the 70s, the idea of a 'fan edit' first gained major prominence after the release of the controversial prequel to the Star Wars Saga, The Phantom Menace. A professional film editor, who for a long time remained anonymous, set about removing the majority of the (perceived) out of place humor and substantial scenes with kid-friendly Jar Jar Binks, as well as rearranging scenes and dialog in an attempt to improve what many fans saw as a flawed entry in their beloved series. The Phantom Edit, as it came to be known, served as the first widely publicized foray into the field of fans editing major motion pictures as they saw fit. The Phantom Edit had corrected or addressed what many saw as severe flaws in the source material; by doing so it illustrated the potential for 'rescuing' other movies that film buffs felt had strong roots but bore weak fruit.
Surprisingly there hasn't been a downpour of lawsuits and court dates stemming from the wave of edits available on the internet. While a particular high profile documentary about fan edits themselves did warrant a cease and desist from Lucasfilms, in the end it appeared to stem from Lucasfilms mistakenly believing it to be a bootleg copy of one of their own movies. Unlike the distribution of music over file sharing services, these edits don't have the immediate accessibility or convenient file size, let alone audience pool to draw on. Multitudes of web users may want to torrent the new Kanye album, but how many people want to see the Lord of The Rings movies re-cut to more properly match the original story Tolkien wrote in the books? From what I can gather: smaller online presence, less impact on sales and not technically bootlegging. It's just taking a DVD you already own and rearranging scenes or cutting things out, essentially. Most distributors haven't had the desire to chase the community down to close off what amounts to be a minimal amount of damage, anyway.
While I haven't had the opportunity to see The Phantom Edit myself, I have had the pleasure of seeing a particularly interesting edit of the back-to-back sequels to the sci-fi blockbuster that was The Matrix. An absolute shift in zeitgeist for Hollywood, The Matrix became one of the most acclaimed (and consequently, mimicked) movies of the last twenty years. A story of man vs. machine, cyberpunk action and techno bombast, it certainly deserved the praise it received. The simultaneously filmed sequels, The Matrix Reloaded and The Matrix Revolutions, were seen as a matter of diminishing returns, however. Overstuffed and wandering, the general consensus was the sequels either went off the rails or tried to cram too much into not enough. Personally I enjoyed them, flaws and all, for the imagery and philosophic themes the movies explored. But that is an article for another day. Today, I'm writing on how they can be combined to make a more cohesive whole.
The Matrix DeZIONized is an edit that combines the two drawn-out sequels and squashes them into one lean, focused film. The effect is amazing. By removing all of the scenes that take place outside of the Matrix, as well as any material mentioning Zion, the result is a movie that feels more in line with the original. Granted, the entire edit then seems to take place in the Matrix, but that was how most of the story was written anyway, so the editor had to work with what was already laid down. Still, the movie moves along at a much faster clip - action scenes seem much better spaced, plot points come at a quicker pace. Hell, the entire story, what the essential point of the sequels was (besides cash), comes so quickly as a result of proper editing here that the viewer has to ask "Why put in all that stuff about Zion in the first place?" Two movies with run times of 138 minutes and 129 minutes, (almost five hours!) cut down to one movie of 121 minutes. Those numbers alone show how much extemporaneous material was present.
Watching the edit, the story flows so smoothly that you barely notice the few holes left from the cuts, for example characters not having resolution in the final act, or the odd dialog piece not having a previous reference point. This mostly is a holdover from having seen the original films, but if this was your first time through these two films, one would hardly notice. If you have an opportunity and the means to see this movie, I would suggest you take a look, if for no other reason than to study how much of an impact editing a movie can have. It really is a fascinating work.
I say all of this with the knowledge that my own, unaltered, Blu Ray versions of the movie are due to arrive from Amazon any day now. I can rag on the Wachowski siblings all day long and yet these movies are still near and dear to me. I was absolutely enthralled with them when I first saw them, partly due to never having seen the films and texts that they took inspiration from. I waited to buy them on DVD in the box set due to financial constraints and having other burning cinematic desires. So when I saw the entire series was available on Blu Ray for less than $50, I jumped with no hesitation. So, I plan on watching the beautiful transfers of these odd films back-to-to-back, then check out the edit and see if it stacks up after all. If you do, drop me a line and let me know your thoughts.
Also, check out some other edits out there. I'll be doing a write up in the future on some others, including some interesting extended cuts. I've already covered one, the epic and genius rearrangement Chronologically Lost. The intarwebs is full of possibilities.
1.28.2011
Red Rover
Evening!
Today has been a jam packed day and as a result I haven't been able to sort out a proper write up on a couple different things I've been working on. They'll be posted eventually but in the mean time I wanted to share something that has been boggling my brain as of late.
One of the fantastic and literary gifts I received this Christmas came from my younger brother. Said gift is a great read which I'm just finishing up and will do a proper run down when it's officially finished. The book in question is How I Killed Pluto And Why It Had It Coming by Mike Brown, a hilarious and fascinating analysis of one of the most controversial scientific decisions of the decade. Personally, I get it so far. Tiny little planet, on the verge of the Kuiper Belt, other things Brown is breaking down in a clear and concise manner, with a solid dose of humor, to boot.
Today has been a jam packed day and as a result I haven't been able to sort out a proper write up on a couple different things I've been working on. They'll be posted eventually but in the mean time I wanted to share something that has been boggling my brain as of late.
One of the fantastic and literary gifts I received this Christmas came from my younger brother. Said gift is a great read which I'm just finishing up and will do a proper run down when it's officially finished. The book in question is How I Killed Pluto And Why It Had It Coming by Mike Brown, a hilarious and fascinating analysis of one of the most controversial scientific decisions of the decade. Personally, I get it so far. Tiny little planet, on the verge of the Kuiper Belt, other things Brown is breaking down in a clear and concise manner, with a solid dose of humor, to boot.
What I've been struggling with while reading, however, is the scale of the universe we live in. I find myself completely distracted from thinking about the literally astronomical distance between our celestial bodies. I know this will come across as a nothing post, people will read it and think "oh that's nice" and move on, but that just bums me out.
Please, in our cluttered and manic lives, try to take a moment and attempt to picture the absolutely massive scale of the Solar System and the void between planets. Think of Mars and how far away it is. Think of the fact that simply because you're alive to read this you most likely will not live to see a person touch Mars. After the budget cuts NASA has seen as of late, such a monumental event won't be accomplished by us, that's certain. But! We have put a robot up there. That little guy has taken pictures. Please, let that sink in. It works almost as the opposite as WALL-E. Check out this amazingly moving XKCD comic to get a little better perspective.
In lieu of a proper write up, I'll leave you a few pictures of an alien landscape we'll almost never set foot on, yet is still within our grasp.
Peace out.
1.27.2011
Warm Fuzzy Viewings Deux
To compensate for the shortened post mourning Double Danger Comics, today I offer another Warm Fuzzy Viewing. Today's subject is the Simpson's episode "Skinner's Sense of Snow", in which a blizzard hits Springfield and traps the students at school before Christmas. This episode was originally broadcast December 17th, 2000, which seems completely impossible for an episode to be eleven years old and still seem like it's part of the 'newer' era. Let's dig in!
The episode starts with Homer being denied the opportunity to watch football because the family wants to see the Cirque de Puree (Homer: "But I wanted to see Brett Fav-re!" complete with French accent). When the circus tent is blown away the Simpson clan hightails it home, barely beating the impending snowstorm, which is described as a "Nor'easter meets a Sou'wester". When the storm rolls in, even the Springfield Nuclear Power Plant is closed.
Radio Announcer: The following schools are closed today; Shelbyville, Ogdenville, Ogdenville Tech, and Springfield Elementary... (Bart and Lisa gasp in surprise)...My Dear Watson Detective School. (Bart groans) And lastly, Springfield Elementary School...(Bart and Lisa cheer) …is open! (Bart and Lisa groan) And it's open season on savings at Springfield Menswear... which is closed.
The few students whose parents forced them to attend are made by Skinner (the only faculty member not off at a caucus) to watch the delightfully terrible holiday movie 'The Christmas That Almost Wasn't, But Then Was'. Taking cues from Mystery Science Theater's expertise, the old movie is rife with production errors, like a Grip walking into the shot, or cardboard props for sheep falling over, mid-take. It's best summed up by Milhouse's complaint about the protagonist singing to the romantic interest: "Why won't he stop singing? He's been wooing her for 45 minutes!" When the projector catches fire (Nelson: "Ha ha! You shoulda got the DVD!" Skinner: "This IS the DVD") the class tries to leave, only to find themselves snowed in.
Bart: "We're trapped in the school!"
(Wailing)
Milhouse: "We're gonna miss Christmas!"
(Even louder wails)
Skinner: "I fixed the movie!"
(Loudest cry of all)
Realizing the kids haven't made it home yet, Homer and Ned venture out in the blizzard to rescue them with a makeshift plow.
Flanders: Well, I'm all for rescuing the kids, but I wish you hadn't sawed off my roof. (cut to show part of Flanders’ roof sawed off)
Homer: My car, your roof; it's only fair.
Flanders: But it's my car.
Homer: Well, yeah.
Flanders: Hey, whatever happened to the plow from your old snowplow business?
Homer: I never had a snowplow business.
Flanders: Sure you did, Mr. Plow. You're wearing the jacket right now. (Homer turns, revealing he's wearing the “Mr. Plow” jacket)
Homer: I think I know my own life, Ned. (sings "Call Mr. Plow, that's my name; that name again is Mr. Plow".)
En route to the school they hit a fire hydrant and freeze to the spot. Running the engine to stay warm, they are overtaken by fumes and pass out, giving way to Homer dreaming he is a Sultan in the Middle East (Homer tells a maiden: "Bring me my Ranch Dressing hose!")
The kids are forced to spend the night in Springfield Elementary and Ned and Homer are trapped in a fume-filled car! Will they survive? Will the kids miss Christmas? Will they have to finish that terrible movie? Watch Skinner's Sense of Snow to find out! (Available in the Season 12 box-set or on Simpsons Christmas Vol. 2.)
It's an excellent episode in which we have one of the prime ingredients - the snow storm trapping the kids in school, on top of Bart trying to escape via Secret Snow Tunnel! I love shows with blizzards trapping people in places - one of my favorite memories of this winter has to be the massive and record setting blizzard in December. I watched from my condo as the city buses just flipped their signs over to 'Not In Service' and made everyone get off where they stopped. It was nuts, the whole city shut down. As a result we stayed inside, cooking awesome and elaborate food all day.
I think what I love about being snowed in is having to dig in and go into that 'survival mode' or try to entertain yourself with whatever is around. You're forced to make the most of your immediate surroundings instead of thinking that something outside or elsewhere is better. This episode hits that feeling square on - blizzards, do your worst!
The episode starts with Homer being denied the opportunity to watch football because the family wants to see the Cirque de Puree (Homer: "But I wanted to see Brett Fav-re!" complete with French accent). When the circus tent is blown away the Simpson clan hightails it home, barely beating the impending snowstorm, which is described as a "Nor'easter meets a Sou'wester". When the storm rolls in, even the Springfield Nuclear Power Plant is closed.
Radio Announcer: The following schools are closed today; Shelbyville, Ogdenville, Ogdenville Tech, and Springfield Elementary... (Bart and Lisa gasp in surprise)...My Dear Watson Detective School. (Bart groans) And lastly, Springfield Elementary School...(Bart and Lisa cheer) …is open! (Bart and Lisa groan) And it's open season on savings at Springfield Menswear... which is closed.
The few students whose parents forced them to attend are made by Skinner (the only faculty member not off at a caucus) to watch the delightfully terrible holiday movie 'The Christmas That Almost Wasn't, But Then Was'. Taking cues from Mystery Science Theater's expertise, the old movie is rife with production errors, like a Grip walking into the shot, or cardboard props for sheep falling over, mid-take. It's best summed up by Milhouse's complaint about the protagonist singing to the romantic interest: "Why won't he stop singing? He's been wooing her for 45 minutes!" When the projector catches fire (Nelson: "Ha ha! You shoulda got the DVD!" Skinner: "This IS the DVD") the class tries to leave, only to find themselves snowed in.
(Wailing)
Milhouse: "We're gonna miss Christmas!"
(Even louder wails)
Skinner: "I fixed the movie!"
(Loudest cry of all)
Realizing the kids haven't made it home yet, Homer and Ned venture out in the blizzard to rescue them with a makeshift plow.
Flanders: Well, I'm all for rescuing the kids, but I wish you hadn't sawed off my roof. (cut to show part of Flanders’ roof sawed off)
Homer: My car, your roof; it's only fair.
Flanders: But it's my car.
Homer: Well, yeah.
Flanders: Hey, whatever happened to the plow from your old snowplow business?
Homer: I never had a snowplow business.
Flanders: Sure you did, Mr. Plow. You're wearing the jacket right now. (Homer turns, revealing he's wearing the “Mr. Plow” jacket)
Homer: I think I know my own life, Ned. (sings "Call Mr. Plow, that's my name; that name again is Mr. Plow".)
En route to the school they hit a fire hydrant and freeze to the spot. Running the engine to stay warm, they are overtaken by fumes and pass out, giving way to Homer dreaming he is a Sultan in the Middle East (Homer tells a maiden: "Bring me my Ranch Dressing hose!")
The kids are forced to spend the night in Springfield Elementary and Ned and Homer are trapped in a fume-filled car! Will they survive? Will the kids miss Christmas? Will they have to finish that terrible movie? Watch Skinner's Sense of Snow to find out! (Available in the Season 12 box-set or on Simpsons Christmas Vol. 2.)
It's an excellent episode in which we have one of the prime ingredients - the snow storm trapping the kids in school, on top of Bart trying to escape via Secret Snow Tunnel! I love shows with blizzards trapping people in places - one of my favorite memories of this winter has to be the massive and record setting blizzard in December. I watched from my condo as the city buses just flipped their signs over to 'Not In Service' and made everyone get off where they stopped. It was nuts, the whole city shut down. As a result we stayed inside, cooking awesome and elaborate food all day.
I think what I love about being snowed in is having to dig in and go into that 'survival mode' or try to entertain yourself with whatever is around. You're forced to make the most of your immediate surroundings instead of thinking that something outside or elsewhere is better. This episode hits that feeling square on - blizzards, do your worst!
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