that other guy’s thoughts

That is the sound of victory my friends.

That is also the sound of me singing and dancing for joy all around in my home office. It’s a good thing my curtains were closed, because I probably looked really ridiculous from the street.

We just went from having the worst to one of the best 1st basemen for the next 1.5 years. All we gave up was a catcher and short stop who were both stuck behind legitimate all-stars for at least the next 2 years. Plus we got the decent lefty Ron Mahay to shore up the bullpen. As long as the Mets keep on a’sucking, they’re toast. 4.5 games back with 2 months left? No problem. I feel like I’ve just be served a sweet plate of deep-fried horsepower with a side of awesome sauce.

I haven’t been this happy after a trade since we picked up Edgar Rentaria two winters ago for the dullard formerly known as Andy Marte.

On August 7th, Sedgwick county is holding a vote on whether or not to allow a destination casino to be built, and whether or not to allow slot machines at the Wichita greyhound park. I suppose it’s a good thing that it’s on a county-wide referendum, and decided by 6 dudes in a smoky back room. I also suppose it’s my civic duty to rock the vote, after all P. Diddy and Paris Hilton told me too. There is just one problem.

I don’t give a crap.

I honestly don’t care whether or not gambling is allowed. Either option is okay with me. I’ve put some real thought into it, considered all options, pro’s, con’s, and potential side effects. I’ve weighed the moral and practical implications. But still, I don’t give a crap.

This is where democracy gets tricky. When the votes are counted, it doesn’t matter how carefully I have considered the issue, or how passionately I care. 1 Man, 1 Vote (or woman, don’t get all feminist on me.) So if I walk into my polling place, randomly pick a box with my eyes closed, my vote cancels out that of even the smartest and staunchest advocate of the other side. I’m not so sure it should.

I know, I’m kicked out of the club; I’m not a real American; George Washington and the dead soldiers at Normandy would be ashamed of me. Not to vote would be a sin against freedom. How dare I disgrace our forefathers. How dare I neglect my patriotic birthright. How dare I.

The thing is, I think it’s my civic duty to make a conscious choice; to decide how I wish to be governed; to weigh all options, express my views, and exercise free will. I think I can do that without voting. I don’t care if Justin Timberlake, Macy Gray, and Madonna all show up at my house singing the Star-Spangled Banner, I still don’t give a crap, and it’s still democracy.

Even the dirty Canadians who make up the crappy rock band Rush figured that out:

“If you choose not to decide, you still have made a choice”

I had a friend was a big baseball player back in high school
He could throw that speedball by you, Make you look like a fool boy
Saw him the other night at this roadside bar
I was walking in, he was walking out
We went back inside sat down had a few drinks
But all he kept talking about was

Glory days, well they’ll pass you by
Glory days, in the wink of a young girl’s eye
Glory days, glory days

Well there’s a girl that lives up the block, back in school she could turn all the boy’s heads
Sometimes on a friday i’ll stop by and have a few drinks after she put her kids to bed
Her and her husband bobby well they split up
I guess it’s two years gone by now
We just sit around talking about the old times,
She says when she feels like crying she starts laughing thinking about

Glory days, well they’ll pass you by
Glory days, in the wink of a young girl’s eye
Glory days, glory days

Now i think i’m going down to the well tonight and i’m going to drink till i get my fill
And i hope when i get old i don’t sit around thinking about it, but i probably will
Yeah, just sitting back trying to recapture
A little of the glory of, well time slips away
And leaves you with nothing mister but
Boring stories of

Glory days, well they’ll pass you by
Glory days, in the wink of a young girl’s eye
Glory days, glory days

-Bruce Springsteen, Glory Days

I suppose this all begs the question: Isn’t 24 a bit young to be complaining about the too quick passage of time?

Son of a Bitch!

There goes my dream job, swallowed up by a mega-defense-contracting-conglomorate. Where will I get my inspiration now? It’s nothing but a sea of 25-billion-dollar contractors and overzealous, too-rich-for-their-own-good, venture-capital-backed failures from here on out.

I suppose I’ll have to go and start my own freaking experimental aircraft company.

Dear Internet,

Don’t believe all the crazy rumors about me. I’m a great bowler, I was just letting her win. For reals, all those time I threw the ball in the gutter, that was definitely on purpose.

Love,

Kyle

I can live!

63%

In the event of a Zombie Apocalypse, you can all stick with me to survive. Unless you’re already a zombie, at which point I’ll take your head off with a weed-whacker and let the rest of the zombies devour your body. Sorry.

Not but a few weeks ago I was struggling to motivate myself practice the guitar or do any writing, my two chief hobbies. Now I find myself writing and practicing for hours everyday. I look forward to staring at a blank page. I feel compelled to type. I’ve also started attempting two of the more difficult songs I’ve ever tried to learn. New chords (Bb - bleh!) and new fingerings (4-fingered G, are you kidding me?) and new strumming patterns (no-rhythm whities unite!)

On the other hand, I used to thoroughly enjoy my work. I would show up and try to be the bright spot of somebody’s day (which isn’t easy since I spend most of my time as the bearer of bad news.) But now impulsively rude to people and I’m finding it difficult to even smile. That’s no way to go through life. I did it for four years and don’t ever want to go back.

What exactly in my life has caused these dichotomous changes? At work my days got longer and harder because I’m trying to teach my English-as-a-second-language newbie concepts that are hard enough without having to stop every 3 seconds and explain blue collar idioms. I’m sure he’s a bright guy, but there’s a reason the training regime is an entire year long.

But if I’m grumpy for nine hours a day, how do I find the will and inspiration to create? Wouldn’t YOU like to know.

I miss you more than Michael Bay missed the mark
When he made Pearl Harbor.
And that’s a lot girl.

-The End of an Act, from Team America: World Police

Michael Bay couldn’t direct himself down a one-way street.

It’s not just that he uses way too many tight shots and has an unhealthy obsession for motion. It’s that he can’t seem to get out from in front of the camera. Every decision he makes screams, “Hey look at me! I’m Michael Bay and I’m the director! Lookie! Lookie!!!”

Take his latest mega-ultra-uber blockbuster, Transformers. This was such a chaotic and apoplectic movie that I actually contracted epilepsy from watching it.

If you’re looking for a character study or inspiration, just stop and slap yourself silly for even considering this movie. We’re strictly dealing with the realm of good vs. evil. The Autobots are good and the Decepticons are evil. You have now probed the deepest depths of the soul of this movie. More than meets the eye, my ass.

How do we go 2+ hours of a movie about giant alien robots fighting each other without a single chill moment? With eighty-seven hundred transformation/de-transformation sequences, why are we forced to see eighty-seven hundred close-up shots of robot foot? These are the questions we can lay at the feet of Michael Bay. I don’t know the answers, I doubt he does either.

Did I enjoy watching it? Damn straight! It’s giant death-robots fighting over the fate of the world, and I’m a 23-year-old dude. It’s genetically impossible for me not to have enjoyed it. However, it could have been so much better.

The first step would’ve been hiring somebody with more visual instinct than Jack Horner (that’s a Boogie Nights reference for those keeping track at home.) Because that’s what we got, pornography. Only instead of sex and the money shot, we get computer graphics and violence. Basically it’s 2 hours of robot porn, 19 minutes of commercials for GM and Hasbro toys, and 30 seconds about peeing on stuff.

This movie cost something like 150 million dollars to make. I don’t understand why there wasn’t a single shot longer than 30 seconds. Instead of cutting 20 interspersed shots from a dozen different angles into a discombobulated mess wouldn’t something like this be better:

“Bad-guy cop car and good-guy Camaro are searching for each other through a deserted section of the city. They each drive block by block until the spot one another down a long high-rise lined street. They each immediately and parallely slam on the brakes and spin 90 degrees to face one another.

The engines rev and the tires spin. We see and expect the cars to lurch forward and charge towards each other. But instead, each transforms into their biped robot form, complete with bulging canons and menacing stance. Take the process slow, let the audience really appreciate what is happening now. Let them feel the surrealism of the moment.

Now we get a chill moment: Using a single sweeping shot, pan from behind the bad guy, up over the top to a wide view of the entire 3 city block valley of impending carnage. Then sweep back behind the good guy as the music builds and enhances the tension.”

See, how hard was that? Nothing has exploded, there’s no dialog, no explosions, no exposition. We have anticipation. This is obviously a duel; these two characters are moments away from massive robot-on-robot action. It’s the showdown at the OK Corral before Doc Holiday pulls a gun.

Tension is thick because one of theses intergalactic warriors won’t make it out alive. We know this because we can feel it. We feel this because the director did his job, and showed us. The story has hooked us and we didn’t have to be hit over the head with it. No fancy camera tricks, no faux witty lines. We know death is coming, and it will be awesome to watch. It could be down right elegant.

If you want to see a great modern example of this, just look at the Matrix movies. Yes there is ass-kicking and wicked special effects, but we get moments to pause and contemplate why. Michael Bay never gives us the chance; he’s too busy attempting (and failing) to make the Autobots funny.

Of course, maybe it’s not Michael Bay’s fault, maybe it was a doomed project from the start. This is, after all, a movie based on a set of children’s toys. It’s the movie equivalent of basing a television show on an insurance commercial…oh wait.

All I’m saying is Pearl Harbor Transformers sucked, and I miss you.

I do this soley for the purposes of annoying Katie and Luc. I take no secret pleasure in viewing such destruction…none at all…for reals.

Will it Blend?: iPhone Edition

This one goes out to crazy foreigners misunderstanding another crazy foreigner’s rocking lyrics:

Back in black, I hit the sack,
I’ve been too long, I’m glad to be back
Yes I’m let loose from the noose,
That’s kept me hangin’ about
I been livin like a star ’cause it’s gettin’ me high,
Forget the hearse, ’cause I never die
I got nine lives, cat’s eyes
abusing every one of them and running wild.

I just got in from Wamego today and boy are my arms tired…no wait, I didn’t fly…um, boy are my legs tired…no wait, I just drove 3 hours with cruise control…um, boy is my butt tired?

I don’t know. Just pretend I made a funny joke, laugh to yourself, and think kindly of me.