Why So Serious…?

[ Distorted Mood: Distorted ]
Sheesh. It’s really been almost four years since I blogged here. Thanks, FacBoo and Zyngag!

So I keep thinking about this Colorado thing… I’m hoping blathering about it will get some of it off my chest, and off my mind.

What if that sick monster, whose name I won’t even repeat, was conducting some kind of twisted social or psychological experiment? What if the rumored “person of interest” now being observed was also to have been at that movie theater, as the caped hero who saves the day, and just never showed up?

I have no idea why my brain keeps nibbling at it. That shooter is so creepy. This f*cking catastrophe hits closer to home than usual. It’s like he opened fire in a church, the way it feels to me.


Baseball or Bon Jovi?

[ Neutral Mood: Neutral ]
[ Currently: Staying up past my bedtime — Nyah-nyah! ]
Which do I hate more? The current promo spot on TBS for their baseball coverage features a song by Jon Bon Jovi which, while slightly less annoying than Dane Cook, is making me want to KILL. Baseball bores me enough without the added value of this insipid ditty that somehow inspires me to rage. The fusion of the two emotions brings on a vertiginous nausea that gives me a better understanding of what makes people bring guns into the workplace. Or watch reality TV… Hey, there’s the MUTE button! Problem solved.

Having said that, I’ll admit that part of my crankiness might be because my ass has fallen asleep and I know the only way to restore circulation is to stand up. I don’t want to stand up. I refuse to be bullied by my buttocks. It’s my sittin’ muscle, and I’ll flay it into shape, by gum!

Whew. Who pulled my string?

In conclusion,

Have a nice day.

Ghosts of Avatars Past

[ Angry Mood: Angry ]
[ Currently: Annoyed with malignant troll people ]
I have been watching the laaaaaate-night reruns of Lucy, Daughter of the Devil on Cartoon Network [as]. This show slays me. So I had to change my teeny-tiny pic as a sign of my adoration:

But I’ve liked all my avatar choices, so I wanted to make a little rogue’s gallery…

There. That was a nice diversion.

Powerless – Heroes Season 2 blog

[ Happy Mood: Happy ]
[ Eating a big smucking sammich! Currently: Eating a big smucking sammich! ]
Just for fun, I dug out the blow-by-blow I wrote watching Powerless, the final episode from season 2. Here it is, as it was:

00. Where the hell is Parkman?
Sorry about Alejandro, but I’m not missing the melodrama.

05. Ah, hunting Adam…
Suddenly Mrs. Petrelli is full of exposition. Is Matt puttin’ the whammy on her?
Oooo, snap — pragmatic as ever, though. Put a hit on her son. Um, again.
Wow, where’s Hiro been hiding this mojo?
Yipe, Adam took that rather well… but Hiro’s still just Carp to him.

10. Damn, Bob is cold. Bet he and Mama Petrelli could have been thick as theives back in the day.
And excuse me, but, “How’s about”? “How’s about…?”! Wha? Huh? Who? Did Sparky just roll in from a film noir marathon?

15. Adam and Peter are quite the duo. Ahh, Peter’s such a puppy.
He was almost tougher when he didn’t know who he is/what he can do.

20. Oh joy, the drama is back.
That woman-scorned thing, Bob should have picked up on that by his age…

25. Ambiguously Gay Duo, anyone?
Really? …Parkman and Hiro haven’t met already? Have to think about that one.
Oh crap. Is it bad that I miss Claire tha Killa? Wanna see her go all Dark Phoenix…
Mr. Muggles!! Barely squeaked him into the first half, but only seconds before…

30. Noah’s return! Who’s a good boy? You are!
Mmm’kay, wow. Kinda surprised Sylar took the shot — I thought he was cooler than that.
But in a split-second, better to chuck the power than maybe have eye-bleed.

35. Of course, the blood, the wonder-blood. Sylar can have all the powers he wants…
I see Elle doing things for Noah to spite Daddy, for not being the kind of man Claire’s dad is.
So Peter saved Hiro? Is that what that was?
Oh shit, whammy showdown! Why wasn’t Matt’s power strong enough to keep Peter from fighting?
Brother against brother, Hiro against hero.

40. Good boy, Peter, faithful like a puppy, too.
So Nathan throws him a Snausage and rubs his ears…
Hmmm, how long would a person have to be alive before the god-complex sets in? Seems when you can’t die, delusions of godhood are inevitable.

45. Good catch, Puppy Power.
Yayyy, Ted Sprague lives!
Nice design in the ash, sneaky.
Aw, nuts, Nathan’s gone all darkside again. You can’t mess with free will that way, you ass!
Who else wonders how Molly and Micah would get along?

50. Always reminding us that you don’t have to be crazy, or a mutant, to be heroic… but it helps.
So now we gonna orphan the boy? Dang, bring on the tragedy.
Finally, it’s Ando!
Man, Hiro, how merciless is that? But to think you’ve neutralized Adam?
I mean, if Uma Thurman can crack her way out a buried coffin, how hard could it be for a guy whose fists heal after every punch?

55. What — Sparky’s goin’ white-hat?
This is dark, this is wrong, so wrong…
With awesome power, and all that.
,nxcbxbcx… Sorry, had to pick my jaw up off the keyboard. Man down! Man down!
Well of course, Mommy Dearest is in the mix.

Volume Three. So… is he Gabriel, or is he Sylar?
…Well played, Zachary, delivering that line without a trace of irony.

I’m cheating on you… with MySpace

[ Shocked Mood: Shocked ]
Yes, I joined the seething hoarde of MySpace zombies. I posted a single blog entry, and I’ve been shamelessly using it to play a pointless, yet fun, little game called Mobsters. At which I kick ass, by the way.

I joined up initially to get access to my little brother’s and sister’s pages, but now it’s taken on an unnatural life of its own. I may need to hire an exorcist.

Help me not go to MySpace! Oh, cripes, there I am again.


Feels like I got the PeeMS

[ Distorted Mood: Distorted ]
There’s this song that’s getting radio play, and I guess the album comes out next week… I was moved enough to link to it in a recent post, but I guess it’s still in my head.

Handlebars” opens whimsically, the singer listing things he’s good at and things he’s done. Claims like “I can take apart the remote control And I can almost put it back together” reminding me of myself as a child, when I could never seem to get my watch to work the same — okay, at all — once I’d poked around in its guts.

The second verse seems to lay out the things he has the potential to achieve, if only he had the resources, or education, or just access.

It’s the last verse, though, that rips the tail off my kite. As he lists the things of which he may be capable, the feats degenerate from the humanitarian to the genocidal, and I realize this is an indictment of war.

Every time I’ve made it to the end of this song, I have tears of rage burning my throat.

This. Is. A. Good. Song.

Tiny wails, tiny cries.

[ Neutral Mood: Neutral ]
[ Working Currently: Working  ]

I wanted my first post to be witty, angry and laden with obscure references, armored with enough irony to build Capone’s Caddy…

Ah, well; can’t all be winners, can they?

It’s after 2pm, and this joint couldn’t be deader. Unless I was dead. Maybe I’m dead. Is this hell? Would hell smell so much like doughnuts?