I guess I have to face the fact that Google Video isn't coming back. I've never been impressed with the video lagtime, digital delay, and related issues that go along with videos on YouTube, but they are the dominant destination for free online media, so I guess I need to get used to it. Google Video seemed more streamlined, the video seemed more crisp, and I miss the ease of it all. Oh well. Time marches on.

My YouTube channel is very bare bones at the moment. The only videos I have presently stored on my computer are my video blogs from the six months I recently spent in Central Asia. A few of the videos I'd posted on my Google Video account will need to be uploaded again onto YouTube, but that isn't a top priority. Feel free to check them out, post comments, subscribe to my channel, and just generally increase traffic to my online content. For future reference, you can review and watch videos I post on the link in the right column of my blog.

Share and enjoy.

One of the odd things about teaching is how it does seem to place life in astounding perspective. I teach technology to college students, and -- though the class isn't centered on the history of computers -- I often take a minute or two to place things into a historical context. Inevitably, when I do so, it makes me feel my age. It also gets me to thinking about how times have changed.

When I teach about the formation of companies like Microsoft or Apple, those things occurred around the time I was born. In my lifetime, I have witnessed the death of 8-tracks, vinyl records, audio cassettes, and compact discs. I can recall dial-up connections to the internet, and I can recall when the internet was more-or-less text-only. I began a blog in my college years (and even gained some notoriety for it), but the term "blogger" hadn't even been invented yet -- I was just an online writer.

I was around when the nation still looked forward to receiving 500 channels of television, and I was around when we received them and realized there was still nothing worth watching. I graduated in 1996 with a degree in broadcast communications. I had learned how to wire and synchronize all the equipment in an analog television station; a year later, the digital revolution took place and nearly everything I learned had suddenly been rendered obsolete. Console televisions came in hefty wood (or simulated wood) cabinets and sat on the floor. Beta and VHS battled for supremacy. OnTV and SelecTV battled for supremacy. HD-DVD and Blu-Ray battled for supremacy.

In the late 1990s, I was mocked by my friends when I bought a cellphone, because none of them could fathom why I (or anyone) would need such a device. Around five years later, many of those same friends mocked me for owning such an old cellphone, because we all had to have the latest and greatest. I've seen the rise and fall of pagers and FAX machines, AOL and Netscape, PowerBooks and Newtons, digital watches and Swatch watches.

The Christmas when we received an Atari 2600 (with Pac-Man) stands out as one of my favorite childhood memories. The day I cashed out an old life insurance policy to buy a Nintendo 64 stands out as one of the most frivolous wastes of money I've ever done (fun though).

I remember the advent of MTV, as well as the almost uncelebrated moment when VH1 came into being. I also recall when MTV and VH1 dropped their respective nonstop music video formats in favor of teen oriented fare (though to this day they deny who their target audience was). The arrival of early rappers like Run DMC and The Fat Boys seemed a logical musical progression from soul/R&B, but the sudden, violent transformation of the genre seemed to come out of nowhere. I can recall when music wasn't sampled, synthesized, lip-synced, or auto-tuned.

All these realizations can make one feel old, and it can make one feel somewhat jaded and cynical when it comes to embracing new technologies. But in a sense I am optimistic. Almost every technological breakthrough I listed seemed -- at the time -- like the pinnacle of what we could achieve. And yet the bar has been raised higher time and time again. It seems like every failure (the Lisa, the Newton, the Cube -- all from Apple) paved the way for something greater (the Macintosh, the iPad, the iMac -- all from Apple).

I actually like it that what was state-of-the-art when I was a kid is now quaint if not old fashioned. What has me concerned, however, is that some of the technology has been stagnant. The space shuttle program that evolved in the 1970s never quite got updated, and this year it will shut down forever. The large hadron collider -- designed in an era when the technology required to operate it hadn't even been invented yet -- will shut down this year, too. There has been no manned mission to Mars. There have been no flying cars. Disneyland's Monorail never quite proved viable outside the confines of the Happiest Place on Earth.

If these stalled technologies really are just steps to something better, we appear to have found ourselves immobilized. I've become convinced that mankind no longer evolves physically (whether we once did is another debate for another day). Instead, mankind grows technologically. If we are to better ourselves, we have to keep developing new gadgets to make our lives better. If we don't, then we risk becoming obsolete as a species, and we'll have to make room for something else to take our place.

My multiple calls to the Kazakh Embassy have been fruitless. Yesterday I was told to call back today. This morning, I was told to call back in an hour (when, according to the embassy website, the consular office would be closed). When I called back an hour later, I was told to call back in another four hours. Asking for a specific voicemail box doesn't work because the voicemail boxes are all full. In short, my passport (and possibly visa) are being held hostage in the Kazakh Embassy in Washington DC.

Undaunted (OK -- slightly daunted), I set about finding someone within my own government who could assist me. My first choice was the State Department, but their delightful automated call center had no option to press for "passports held hostage" and there was no option available to speak to a live operator. Same goes for the White House itself, and that is a shame because its switchboard used to be manned by friendly and courteous people. Back to the internet I went. Knowing that all government websites in the US end with the suffix .gov, I eventually found USA.gov, a website with the catchy slogan, "Government made easy." And, easy as could be, there was a link to chat online with a live person to get the sort of personal, individualized attention I wasn't getting from the automated numbers I was calling (to say nothing of the lack of attention -- if not misdirection -- I've been getting from the Kazakh Embassy).

One click and I was online with "Anthony O." Things did not go well:

Anthony O.: Hi, my name is Anthony O.. How may I help you?

Kevin : I need to know which I agency or department I can contact. I sent my passport to the Kazakhstan Embassy in DC on the 10th and applied for a work visa. Their website states it would take 3-5 business days to process. It has been 10 business days. When I call the embassy, I get the runaround (they tell me to call back later, or I get transferred to a voicemail box that is full).

Anthony O.: I can help locate some information on that subject for you. Please give me a few moments while I do some research.

Kevin : Thank you

Anthony O.: I suggest you contact the Embassy of Kazakhstan for information regarding the process necessary to file a complaint on them. Unfortunately, there is no United States government office that you can file a complaint with on a foreign government embassy in this country.

Kevin : But nobody in the embassy will take my calls!

Kevin : I do not wish to file a complaint. I wish someone to help me resolve the issue!

Anthony O.: You may also wish to contact your elected officials for possible additional assistance. I can provide you contact information for your elected officials as well, if your prefer.

Kevin : What about the state department? Isn't there someone in that agency to help in matters such as this?

Anthony O.: Unfortunately, no. There is no office in the U.S. to file a complaint with on a foreign government embassy.

Kevin : I DO NOT wish to file a complaint. I wish to resolve the issue. Are you telling me there is nobody in the government who can direct questions to someone in another government's embassy?

Anthony O.: That is correct.

Kevin : Wow. I didn't believe the United States government could be thwarted by an embassy on their own soil.

Anthony O.: I hope you find this information helpful. Do you have any other questions?

Kevin : You provided no information. You provided no help.

Kevin : My government genuinely has no interest/concern that a foreign agency has a United States passport in their possession and that agency refuses to speak to or respond to the owner of the passport?

Anthony O.: You may wish to contact your elected officials, or a licensed attorney for possible additional assistance. Would you like some contact information for either?

Kevin : So the answer to my previous question is "no"?

Anthony O.: This is the only suggestion that we can provide for possible additional assistance in this matter.

Kevin : Answer my question please: My government genuinely has no interest/concern that a foreign agency has a United States passport in their possession and that agency refuses to speak to or respond to the owner of the passport?

Anthony O.: If you are seeking an official statement in regards to your inquiry, I suggest you contact your elected officials. Would you like their contact information?

Kevin : I am not seeking an official statement. I am seeking a direct answer to my question: My government genuinely has no interest/concern that a foreign agency has a United States passport in their possession and that agency refuses to speak to or respond to the owner of the passport?

Anthony O.: That is a question that we cannot provide a general answer for. I suggest you contact your elected officials for an answer to your inquiry.

Kevin : And you honestly believe my senator or congressman will be able to assist me with an embassy?

Anthony O.: I suggest you contact them to see if they can provide any assistance in this matter. Would you like contact information for your elected officials?

Kevin : Sure. I live in Southern California. I'd like the phone numbers and e-mail addresses of every one of my elected officials.

Anthony O.: The following House.gov web site provides contact information for U.S. Representatives.

https://writerep.house.gov/writerep/welcome.shtml

Additionally, the following Senate.gov web site provides contact information for U.S. Senators.

http://www.senate.gov/general/contact_information/senators_cfm.cfm

Kevin : So, you won't even give me that information directly -- you'll direct me to yet another website(s)?

Anthony O.: I suggest you utilize the web links that I have provided you for assistance in locating the requested contact information that you are seeking.

Kevin : How much money do you make an hour? Or is it a salary position? I assume you have health care.

Anthony O.: Sorry, I cannot disclose any personal information.

Kevin : Apparently, you cannot disclose any information at all, personal or otherwise.

Anthony O.: Do you have any other government related questions that I can assist you with?

Kevin : Here... how about an easy one before I go: What is 2 + 2?

Anthony O.: I would be happy to assist you with a legitimate government inquiry. If you don’t have such a question, I will disconnect this chat session.

Kevin : Yeah, I guess that was too tough for you. You should know that, as is always the case with my government, you as its online representative have been no help at all.

Anthony O.: Since you do not have a government related inquiry that I can help you with, I will need to disconnect this chat session so I may assist other citizens with their inquiries. Have a great day. Goodbye.

Anthony O. has disconnected.

Government made easy.

At the moment, this blog is private, but I will eventually (hopefully) be able to unrestrict the access to it down the road. And when that happens, this will be where I will publicly thank those who have offered not just their support and encouragement, but also internal job listings and leads to prospective employment. So, thanks to:

Tricia

Mark

Rich

Kevin

Doug

Melissa

I'll probably add more names to the list, but to everyone who has been there for me, my heartfelt thanks.

Guinness 1: At this stage, my first reaction is not sadness for myself, but sadness for the morons who fail to grasp the basic concept. For them, I feel genuine pity. They are the lowest of the low, and they don't even realize it.

Guinness 2: Called my mom and one of my brothers. My brother farted into the phone a few times which made me smile. I guess my second reaction is that I cannot believe the way in which this was handled. No tact. It was all done behind my back, and they smiled at me the whole time as if we were friends. To twist the classic line: No friends here, just strangers I've met.

Guinnes 3: Texting a few people and sending a few private e-mails. My third reaction is that, if I were in charge of something and I saw a way in which someone under me could do something better or at least differently, I would have the stones to speak my mind. Some people are just stoneless, I guess.

Guinness 4: Didn't spell Guinness correctly earlier. Funny. My fourth reaction is I have spent the last several years trying to serve something greater than myself. Four years of teaching. My time in the Peace Corps. I even considered working in the DA's office a form of service (the PD had no openings at the time). Through it all, I wanted to serve something greater than myself, and each time I hit a roadblock.

Guinness 5: I wonder where the grace is in intolerance. I wonder where the grace is in prejudice. I wonder where the grace is in not giving someone the opportunity to prove his or her worth. I wonder where the grace is in forcing faith. I wonder where the grace is in condemnation.

Guinness 6: Grooving to blues. BB King and Eric Clapton have mad skills. This whole thing went down badly. Back in November I asked direct questions and was lied to. Had I been told the truth, things might be different today. I asked the question directly months ago -- the question that strikes at the heart of this. And I was reassured that it wasn't about me. Once again, people feel the need to pussyfoot around.

Guinness 7: I'm far from perfect. Say I'm too abrasive or recalcitrant. Say I can't relate to certain people. All of these are fair criticisms. But I've thought hard about this and they just are not right about this. It took me years to be able to justify my faith to myself and to others. On this singular point, I feel I'm on solid ground. I should get bonus points for correctly typing "recalcitrant" after 7 beers.

Guinness 8: After eight beers, I'm reduced to laughter. You know that old chestnut when someone breaks up with someone else and he/she says, "It's not you, it's me"? Well, to-whom-it-may-concern: It's not me, it's you. My culpability comes in the form of sitting in silence while you have messed things up, and, ironically, I sat in silence out of fear of the repercussions should I speak out.

Vitamin Water Zero: Just reread last night's running/drinking commentary. I stand by it. And I'll be fine, by the way. It was probably time for a change anyway, and now I am more motivated than ever to make that change happen.

Another "Happiness Week" has come and gone. It was a rocky start, no doubt about that, but it ended well enough. And now I'm on vacation, only not really. I'm scheduled to depart for a three day conference in the middle of the freakin' desert. In other words, the coming week isn't likely to be a happy one... at least not the first three days of it. After that, between strange goings-on in Santa Monica on Wednesday and Thanksgiving on Thursday, there should be some happiness by the week's end.

Still, throughout the week, I was reminded of many reasons why I need to seek out ways to be happy. Mostly, those reason came in the form of seeing others far worse off than me. A local school with a small student population lost a parent of one of its students, and it isn't the first parent lost at that school since the school year began. The mother of a former student of mine is dying of cancer. A friend might have to have a surgery which would prevent her from being able to have children. I saw one homeless guy ask another homeless guy for money, and, though it reminded me of the humorous "beggars begging from beggars" scene in "History of the World: Part One," it was a cautionary tale. It is easy to find reasons to be sad or angry. You have to work at happiness.

Most of what makes me unhappy are situations and decisions that are out of my control. But I've found that, with only a few exceptions, happiness comes from within. Oh sure, there is a woman on this planet whose very voice is enough to cheer me up, but situations and decisions that are out of my control prevent me from hearing that voice on a regular basis, so I have to find the happy on my own. And it isn't always easy.

Certainly, I can't be the only one who has noticed that it takes a while to work up to a state of happiness, but one can become unhappy in an instant. It seems unfair, like clawing and scratching to get to the top of a tall peak, only to discover you hadn't really reached the top at all -- that there is another, taller peak that must be climbed.

I have to remind myself to cherish the little things like a positive day at work or a good parking space in front of my apartment. I have to remind myself to begin each day anew, regardless of how bad the previous day may have been. I have to remind myself to laugh at life's absurdities, or they will consume me from the inside-out. I have to remind myself that some people consider it a privilege to be allowed to travel to a fancy hotel in a desert oasis, free of charge.

And, in the spirit of the season, I have to be thankful for what I have. And I even need to be thankful for what I've lost, because a lot of folks would give anything for the experiences I've had and the friendships I've made, even knowing nothing lasts forever. I take it for granted that things were better before, because that isn't the case for everyone. Some people have never experienced "better." I've shaken hands with world leaders and been called names by pop singers. I may not have climbed Mt. Everest, but I've lived a life.

Jim Morrison reminded us that, "We're all in the cosmic movie... You better have some good incidents happening and a fitting climax." And despite him being frequently stoned to the point where he could neither stand nor speak, there was often truth and wisdom in his words. Just as Walt Whitman wrote about the "powerful play," Morrison updated the reference. I have inadvertently stolen a scene or two in the cosmic movie, but it is too soon to tell what genre of film we are all in (I'm hoping it is neither a horror flick nor a modern-day tragedy), or how whether it will have the requisite "happy ending."

I want my scenes, my verses, my existence to have a positive meaning. I want to make a contribution. And I don't want to be remembered as a negative, depressing, melancholic lump. I want to be happy. I want to serve something greater than myself. And I don't want to have to work so hard at it, but I am keenly aware that nothing worth having comes easily.

Here's hoping your week was a happy one, and that you learned something from the experiment.

It has been nearly nine months since I last compiled a list of podcast recommendations, so I guess I am overdue. In the interest of full disclosure, I have probably recommended many of the following on an individual basis, but I am just obsessive-compulsive enough to feel compelled to list them here:

"The Bugle - Audio Newspaper For A Visual World"

John Oliver (a.k.a. that British dude from "The Daily Show") and Andy Zaltzman (longtime fan of cricket) live on opposite sides of the pond, but they come together each week to riff on current events. Or, in the alternative, if current events aren't interesting enough, they just make stuff up. I laugh more during this podcast than any other time in the week.

"John Cleese Podcast"

Infrequently updated, but I discovered this one a month or so ago and have been liberally sampling the selections. There is some fun video-blog stuff, and a few of the podcasts are simply speeches videotaped and uploaded. But there is some prepared comedy worth checking out.

"Kevin Pollak's Chat Show"

I'm an unapologetic fan of Pollak's and have been since the first time I heard his stand-up routine, "Star Trek V: In Search of Cash." His podcasts are Herculean in length, if not originality, and feature Pollak interviewing a wide variety of stars from comedy, movies, television, and music. These are long-form, sometimes intense interviews that will take casual viewers a little getting used to. But it is worth making the adjustment.

"Robert Llewellyn's Carpool"

Carpool is a series of interviews conducted by the guy who played Kryton on "Red Dwarf," the gimmick being the interviews take place as Llewellyn drives the interview subject to or from somewhere in a hybrid vehicle. The audio can sometimes be atrocious, but Dwarfers in particular will enjoy the conversations that take place on the mean UK streets.

"Rocketboom"

I discovered correspondent Ella Morton just last week when I happened upon her interview with Cookie Monster. It was love at first sight. Her video blogs are sharply edited and full of wit. And she was kind enough to add me as a friend on Facebook, so I feel obligated to pimp her segments on Rocketboom, an arts, culture, and commentary podcast.

"Stephen Fry's Podgrams"

I am late to the Stephen Fry party, and I'm not entirely certain the crowd is to my liking. I can't tell if he's a bitter and cantankerous old goof or a sage and acerbic comedic statesman. Sample his podcasts and let me know what you think.

"Today in the Past"

Brief snippets from another correspondent from "The Daily Show," John Hodgman. He has created a page-a-day calendar based on portions of his most recent book, "More Information Than You Require." For those who aren't familiar with Hodgman's book, it (and this podcast) is filled with an assortment of untrue facts. The November 12th entry about Wallace Shawn is a particular favorite of mine. Hodgman is also the most recent subject of the "iTunes: Meet the Author" podcast, for those who missed it.

"WTF with Marc Maron Podcast"

This semi-regular (one or two new installments per week) podcast has replaced the Smodcast as my source of pod-based frat humor. Maron begins every podcast with what he considers a rave review of his sponsor, a coffee company. He takes a sip of coffee, pauses, then screams "Pow! I just sh*t my pants!" Sets the tone for the show. It is a fun and insightful podcast featuring a lot of comedians and a lot of industry talk.

P.S.

The movie channels have been periodically posting full-length episodes of their TV shows as podcasts. I caught the season premiere of "Californication" in podcast form, as well as the series premiere of "Bored to Death." You have to watch for these, as they come and go without much fanfare. And I'd be remiss if I didn't point out that the iTunes Store moved the iTunes University to its own special segment of the Store (installments of which are no longer counted as podcasts). Carnegie Mellon has posted Randy Pausch's "Last Lecture" on iTunes U, as well as another full-length lecture of his. Thanks to iTunes U, I've enjoyed Q&A sessions with Alan Alda and David Sedaris, to name but a few. And I'm nearly halfway through a course on "Game Theory" offered by Professor Ben Polak at Yale University (tough course, but an amazing professor and the lessons learned have real-world applications). In the same vein, you should check out the "Free on iTunes" segment of the iTunes Store, which often contains full episodes of TV shows, music videos, or panel discussions (checking just now, I see they're presently offering the first two episodes of "Ally McBeal" for those who might be interested). Most of what I've listed in this paragraph is only offered "free" for a limited time, so I'd suggest routinely checking (unless you don't mind paying for what others receive for free).

Previous Podcast Reviews:

February 2008

May 2008

February 2009

Isn't it nice to have a day off? A day to honor the veterans, a day to read a book, a day to plow through boatloads of e-mailed spam? Yes, I took a little time to rummage through the e-mails dropped into my spam folder, because, sometimes, important e-mails fall through the cracks. Sure enough here are a few that I need to follow up on:

Cleotilde Svetland wrote an e-mail with the subject, "Winter Sale! Codeine, Hydrocodone, Vicodine, Xanex & Valium." What better way to prepare cold and lonely season than by stocking up on recreational painkillers? Laugh if you will, but Jonna Angelo and Loriann Pasty, whoever they are, each sent me e-mails with the same subject. Clearly, they know about previous holidays-gone-bad and are just looking out for me.

Apparently, someone calling themselves "me" wrote to me. In the subject to me, me asked me, "It's me, any information about Mike?" Since I do not, as of yet, have any information about Mike, I have not replied to me. But rest assured, me is looking into it.

From out of nowhere, jimgreen wrote to share the following: "She mixed the dough with sour cream." Not knowing what it was she was supposed to have been making, I do not know if this is a good or a bad thing. I'm not a sour cream fan, though I do like foods which begin as dough, so it could go either way.

Here's one I nearly missed. The one and only bluecatfishman wrote to inform me that "Lady Jingly answered sadly." Look, friends, depression is no laughing matter, and I have always known Lady Jingly to be upbeat and chipper, so this really affects me. Jingly, if you're out there, give me a... well... jingle?

I cannot believe that an e-mail from my colleague cocacolera found its way into my spam folder. Seeing the subject "Still the Turtle bore him well, and I hate your son," at least now I won't be caught off guard. I can offer up a timely response the next time I run into cocacolera in the street, which could be any day now.

Abbe Burton spoke for her entire generation when she sent me an e-mail with the subject, "Music Good Said." It is a little too short for a proper haiku, but as free verse poetry goes, Abbe Burton is a force to be reckoned with.

I seem to be getting a lot of international e-mails these days, mostly from places I once visited or lived. Japanese native 地貸款成數。銀行到期還單代墊, a.k.a. Bank Arriving At Period Generation, wrote to tell me the following: "信用狀額度變現。房屋全額貸款." Though I am not fluent in Japanese, I ran it through my computer's handy, dandy translation software and learned: "Confidence degree of amount reality. Room house payment in full rental." Noted, good sir. Noted.

Last but not least, a Cyrillic cousin of mine, kaval 3, wrote to tell me: "Русские домашние оргиий. Здесь есть даже девушка для которой это в первый раз. Наслаждайтесь!!" With two exclamation points, I was all-too-eager to learn kaval 3 was telling me about a "Russian domestic orgy. Here is even girl for which this the first time. Delight in!!"

So, if you'll excuse me, I have an important appointment, and if anybody knows how to fix my spam folder so I don't keep nearly losing these important e-mails, let me know.

I don’t really feel like being profound. I don’t want to be ticked off. By the time most people read this, I’ll be another year older. Some birthdays excite me. Other birthdays annoy me. This birthday holds no emotional connection whatsoever. It is simply Tuesday. No big deal. Not bad. Not good. It just is.

Last week, I attempted an online experiment wherein I tried to post nothing but upbeat, positive, happy things. I even tried to eliminate the sarcasm. And this online experiment spilled over into the real world, to such an extent that anyone showing even the faintest signs of sadness or depression was annoying to me. It reminded me of my days in retail, when you were supposed to greet each customer with a smile and a friendly turn-of-phrase. I was adopting a persona who was similar to me in many ways, but different in others. I was a Stepford Kevin.

The thing is, I can understand why one should be superficial and emotionally dishonest with total strangers who want nothing more than to buy something. However, I would hope that when I am happy, my friends would be there to join in the revelry, and when I am sad or angry, my friends would be there to try to raise me up. Because if all someone is interested in is the superficial and the dishonest, I really have no interest in having that someone in my life. Oh sure, I’ll sell them stuff, but that is hardly my idea of friendship.

I have spent a majority of my life trying to be there for other people. I have tried to be there for people who, frankly, treated me like crap. I try to continue to be there for people, regardless of circumstance. And I have no regrets about that; in fact, helping others is a big part of what makes me happy. I’m not looking for quid-pro-quo. All I’m looking for is a little bit of compassion on the bad days, and connectedness on the good days.

In a perfect world, this would not be an issue. But this year I seem to be fighting a lot of battles on multiple fronts. I’ve never felt so exhausted. I’ve never felt so put upon. I’ve never wanted to run screaming from my life more than I do at this moment. I know, this sounds extreme, and it makes me sound depressed or angry or whatever. But all I really want is a little bit more than I presently have. No need for a mansion or Cindy Crawford – I’d just like to feel slightly more secure… more at peace… more loved.

In other words, people have a tendency to wish people “Happy Birthday,” but all I’m really after is a birthday moderately better than the one I’m expecting. Genuine happiness is an ambitious goal. It is a goal I’m still working on, but it is unlikely to be reached within the next 24 hours. Small steps.

Cliff walked up to me in journalism class one day and told me I should never be a journalist. I recoiled and asked why not. He told me, and I’m paraphrasing, that I can’t keep my @!#$ing opinions to myself. He was right, and, though I didn’t appreciate it at that moment, I ultimately came to respect his honesty.

In turn, I feel compelled to be honest about Cliff. To begin with, I could never make heads or tails of his handwriting. I’d get papers back that he’d graded, and then go through the arduous task of deciphering Cliff’s comments in the margins. Eventually, I learned that what I saw as “odd tub” was actually “good job.” It was like learning a second language.

And it should be made known to Cliff that anyone who has ever taken a class from Cliff has also attempted, at some point, to impersonate his unique vocal style. For those out of practice, the phrase that always brings it home is “seditious libel.” Those two words seem to hit all the right Cliff-inflections. Try it if you don’t believe me.

About a year after I’d graduated, I was working as an NBC Page in “beautiful downtown Burbank,” when I received an e-mail from Cliff. He told me he was taking a group of students to an SPJ conference in Southern California. I suggested he come to NBC and I would lead him on one of my studio tours. He arrived one afternoon with his students in tow. Along the way, we bumped into Jay Leno, who proceeded to poke fun at Cliff and the students (“Professional journalists? Sounds like an oxymoron to me!”). It was one of the more surreal moments of my life.

Last year, while walking along the beaches of San Diego, I happened upon a sign that made me laugh out loud. I made a point of e-mailing a picture of it to Cliff, who proudly replied that he’d posted it in his office: What I will remember most is the respect that he had for his own profession, and the profession we were studying. He made a lot of jokes, but he took seriously the roles that we were to play. He emphasized the importance of truth – something we could stand to see more of in this day and age. And, to my dismay, he knew that a good journalist kept his opinions to himself. He hammered into our collective skulls the value of fact checking, and he predicted early on the potential unreliability of information on the internet.

A few years ago, I left the world of media and entered the world of teaching middle school. Some days, I find myself in my classroom, unintentionally speaking in a unique vocal style. It usually happens when I’m teaching the students about responsibility or honesty. It always happens when I talk about respect.

Thanks Cliff.

We gather here today to mourn the passing of INSERT NAME OF DEAD CELEBRITY HERE. None of us have ever met DEAD CELEBRITY, but we feel HIS OR HER loss deeply. We fondly recall the MOVIE/SONG/TV SHOW that made HIM OR HER famous TEN/TWENTY/THIRTY years ago. And even though the public at large has long ago lost interest in any new projects for DEAD CELEBRITY, we still feel as though the untimely passing directly affects us.

Why, you might ask, did we wait until after DEAD CELEBRITY’S death before buying any MOVIES/SONGS/TV SHOWS featuring DEAD CELEBRITY? We like to honor the dead the best way we know how: With cold, hard cash. Oh sure, we could have showered the living with love and genuine affection, but we prefer grief over the dead to celebration over the living. We prefer to prop up a corpse onto a pedestal rather than try to squeeze a living person into a safe and comfortable stereotype. Less hassle for all involved. Less chance of disappointment.

We’d like to thank all the news gathering organizations for interrupting their coverage of the people and events that actually impact our lives in order to cover the death of DEAD CELEBRITY. We don’t give a moment’s thought to what we aren’t learning as a result of uninterrupted coverage of the death of someone who probably wouldn’t have liked us if we’d ever actually met.

I, for one, am glad the lead story on tonight’s newscast and tomorrow’s front page of the morning edition will be the death of DEAD CELEBRITY instead of something else like the war, the economy, health care, or any international news. After all, DEAD CELEBRITY’S death may be sad, but those other subjects are real downers, and nobody is interested in them anyway. If anything, we should be thankful for the distraction DEAD CELEBRITY has provided us.

Forget, for a moment, what can only be described as the collective insanity of grieving over someone we did not know. When one considers the wide variety of mental illnesses we could have, irrational depression pales in comparison. That we share the same psychosis as those who cry when their favorite soap opera character is written off a series shouldn’t bother us one bit. And we should not read too much into the fact that we don’t grieve over countless non-famous people murdered on any given day, at home and abroad. If they never attained fame, they aren’t worthy of our attention, let alone our tears.

Please, good people, as you go about your days, do not make jokes about DEAD CELEBRITY which you would have made when HE OR SHE was still alive. While it does imply a double standard, it is common knowledge that the greatest sign of respect we can give someone is a double standard. We must show respect towards the dead which we would never show to the living – it makes us better people. And DEAD CELEBRITY would want us all to be better people.

When we look back at the life of DEAD CELEBRITY, let us not think about any of the negative aspects of HIS OR HER life. Let us wash them away, leaving behind only the positive part of the part of HIS OR HER life that HE OR SHE chose to make public. And let us assume that DEAD CELEBRITY’S public persona wasn’t just a media ploy or an attempt to curry a larger fan base. Let us assume that, despite human nature, when a camera or microphone was shoved into the face of DEAD CELEBRITY, that DEAD CELEBRITY was true to character, and not phony in any way. Let us assume that, in spite of logic and reason, we knew – deep down, we knew – DEAD CELEBRITY’S soul.

And now that soul is resting in peace. And we must say goodbye to DEAD CELEBRITY, and we must be quick about it because the rule of three tells us we have two more famous people waiting in the wings to croak and receive their posthumous recognition. As I scan the Good Book looking for an appropriate passage to help guide DEAD CELEBRITY into the next life, I find that the traditional Psalm 23 does not suffice. No, for this occasion, I think Exodus 20:2-7 is more appropriate. Sadly, I’ve just received the signal which says we’ve run out of time here today.

Thank you all so much for coming. I know that, to HIS OR HER family, the kindness of strangers will almost make up for the loss of DEAD CELEBRITY. Now, please exit the building quickly – but reverently.

I'm officially done with CafePress. Don't use them. Tell your friends not to use them. Tell your enemies not to use them. If CafePress is your enemy, then you are my friend.

I followed the website's directions to the letter, formating my document to 7.25 x 9.25. I saved the finished product as a PDF (also per the instructions) which the website couldn't read. Their help center asked for the original Word documents, but Cafe Press has yet to buy the latest Office suite (which is more than 2 years old). Saving it as the older version of Word so they could read it and save it properly, the PDF they sent to me was without any of the formating, font selection, picture placement, etc.

Excuse me while I go waste more hours of my life formating the book to an entirely different page size so I can try the same process with another online publishing website.

DO NOT USE CAFE PRESS

So, to all the Michael Jackson fans out there, how about you give generously to the LAPD and related organizations who, already operating at a loss, spent a ton of money working out the logistics of the memorial extravaganza and are now begging for donations. Seriously, I know you all have money... the sales of Jackson's music have shot through the roof since his death (of course, silly me, I already own music by artists I like and wouldn't wait until after an artist dies to hop onto a bandwagon). Why not give money to the people who enabled this nation's biggest piece of collective insanity since the OJ Simpson trial (which, ironically, was also brought to you courtesy of the LAPD)?

Two Los Angeles radio stations will be paying tribute to one of the fallen greats. From the late '60s to the mid '80s, KMET 94.7 was THE FM radio station on Southern California. Over the 4th of July weekend, KLOS 95.5 will be reuniting many of the on-air staff. Then on Friday July 10th, new station 100.3 "The Sound" will host a "Finally a Friday" featuring more voices from the past, including the return of Dr. Demento to Los Angeles. Both stations stream online. Wherever you are around the world, I strongly encourage you to take some time to listen to what both stations have to offer, even if it is just background music during your 4th of July BBQ. The "Mighty Met" was a special radio station with a vibe and an attitude that has never been duplicated.

Share and enjoy. It will be a little bit of heaven.

I admit it. I am a child of the '80s. I recall the "event" that was the premiere of the Thriller music video. I recall the red leather "Beat It" jacket. I recall Michael Jackson on fire. But none of these things were life-altering events for me. Setting aside all (and there is an impressive list) of the whacked out aspects of Michael Jackson's life, his career in pop music has been over for some time. When is the last time any radio station played a Michael Jackson song, other than the lite-FM stations who play a few Jackson 5 classics during their kitschy "disco-retro" nights? His music doesn't fit any modern radio station's format, not even easy-listening. His death will result in some posthumous airplay on a few oldies stations, and maybe a remix or two on some hip-hop stations, but even that will be gone again in a few weeks.

I can think of two things Michael Jackson did in terms of reshaping the music scene:

His videos helped catapult MTV into the mainstreamHis success led directly to the pop culture phenomena which resulted in boy bands and Britney SpearsFor these two things, Jackson should not be celebrated but condemned. His style lacked substance, replacing it with a basic, danceable backbeat. He set the course of lyrical and instrument-based music back by at least a decade, championing the cause of a successful music video being more important than a well performed single.

Should he be pitied because fame was thrust upon him at an early age? Maybe, but an early age was the only time he seemed human to outside observers.

The death of Michael Jackson should not be the lead story in any local or national newspaper or news broadcast. In print, it should be in the entertainment section, just before the comics. On TV, it should follow the words "And finally tonight" as a 30 second tag to the newscast, with a simple card with his name and a picture as a few seconds of one of his songs plays under the closing credits.

Michael Jackson's death matters... to his family and his friends. It is not a devastating blow to the music industry. It does not impact society on any level. The very definition of pop culture is that it pops into and out of fashion rapidly. Michael Jackson popped out of fashion a long time ago. Had he died in the 1980s, his death might have held a small degree of social relevance. But pop music is of the moment, and Jackson's moment has passed.

I am neither happy nor saddened by his death, but I am shocked and somewhat appalled by those who have chosen to place great import on his passing. At day's end, Michael Jackson will be remembered, not for his music, but for the allegations and rumors that surrounded his later years. And I specifically chose not to write about that because, at day's end, allegations and rumors matter even less than decades old pop music.

I know a lot of people have written, tweated, and blogged that Michael Jackson should "rest in peace." I won't do that, not because of any deeply held convictions, but because it doesn't seem appropriate to the man he was (or seemed to be). So, regarding Michael, I can only quote the man himself: sham on.

Beloved masturbatory aid Farrah Fawcett lost her battle with cancer. At least 70% of her body was 62-years-old, but the parts of her that people will remember were roughly half that age.

Perhaps her most famous feature film role was in "Cannonball Run," where she played the girl Jack Elam drugged, kidnapped, and had his way with (in a comedic way, of course) in the back of an ambulance driven by Burt Reynolds and Dom DeLuise.

She was married to the six-million dollar man for a while there, which many people thought was "really cool."

Perhaps Steve Martin best summed up her life: "She is so conceited. She has never called me once. And after the hours I've spent holding up her poster with one hand."

R.I.P., Farrah. I'd say "we hardly knew ye," but, truth be told, we knew an awful lot.

It begins with an unruly six-year-old in some sort of theater. I know this was not actually the beginning of the dream, but it is the first thing I can remember taking place. Her teacher handed her off to me (but not to her mother, who was also there… I found this odd). The six-year-old was cussing like a drunken sailor. I tried every passive approach I knew to get her to stop, but as I looked past her at her mother, her mother motioned for me to slap the child across the face. I could not, so I left her and wandered outside the theater, into the dark of night.

Outside the theater… there’s no easy way to say this… I divided into two identical people. I (we) had to get to a specific school, but not my own. For a while, I saw things from the perspective of both of me, simultaneously. But eventually I only saw things through my 1.1 good eyes, and I somehow distracted the other me, allowing me to be the first person to head towards the school.

I walked through what felt like a neighborhood in the city of Clairemont, CA (near where I used to live) where I used to ride my bike as a kid. I eventually stumbled onto a school, and it seemed to be having some sort of open house. I wandered into the preschool classrooms to see what art projects they were showcasing. It turned out they had taken several Beanie Babies and… well… castrated them. I remember telling one of the teachers that I had done a similar art project when I was a kid (even though I hadn’t).

My cell phone rang and the other me was on the other end of the line. He informed me that I was at the wrong school. Furious, I ran out of the classroom towards the parking lot located at the base of a steep hill. I passed several men and women in military uniform. In the parking lot, I found my car.

I peeled out of the lot and was racing down the dark road, feeling the wind whipping into my face. I reached my hand in front of me and discovered my windshield was gone. Then I looked down at where the steering wheel used to be, but found the handlebars of a bicycle in its place. When I looked up from the handlebars, I was no longer in my car but on a bike, and I no longer had headlights to help me see the road in front of me.

I crashed. I fell down hard, and I felt the pain of the fall. When I stood up, several handheld electronic gadgets fell from my pockets. None of them belonged to me. One of them was a sort of Blackberry with a flip top, which was vibrating. When I opened it up, an electronic voice told me it was mad that I didn’t answer earlier, and that it was going to get me.

Somewhere along the way (I think when I was driving in my car), I realized it was a dream. But the nightmarish aspect of it was that I couldn’t wake up from it. I found myself standing in near-total darkness, trembling, and trying to find some way to destroy the Blackberry with the creepy electronic voice.

Now, maybe I'm just upset because I've never given a commencement speech. Even the girls' school I founded in South Africa for disadvantaged pole dancers hasn't asked me. And I think I know why. It's because I can't be trusted to bullshit. I firmly believe if college students wanted to hear more drivel they're never going to use again, they could go to class.

So, I would tell the class of 2009 exactly what they really have to look forward to: working at Starbucks. I'm joking of course. Starbucks isn't hiring.

But, here's the speech I would give. [he puts on mortar board] Graduates, faculty, alumni and guests, I am truly honored to speak at your university. Mostly because it's a great place to score cheap weed.

Now, I've been asked by your dean to keep it brief, and by your feminist studies club to keep it humorless. So, Class of 2009, as you go out in the world, here is my message for you: Give up.

Seriously, you're about to enter the worst job market since Adam and Eve hired the very first employee. A Mexican to tend their garden. On top of that, you went through the American educational system. You wrote "Hi, Mom" on your cap and misspelled "Hi."

And if all that wasn't enough, you are the first generation to inherit an environment that's probably already toast. But, hey, maybe you can make a few bucks smearing sunscreen on old people.

Just remember there's more to life than work. Maybe now's the time to appreciate the little things: a flower, a sunset, a shopping cart full of cans.

And, so I say to you as you embark on your adult life, take a moment to look back and honor your parents. Because they're the ones who paid for your education. They're the ones who stood by you the whole time. And they're the ones who you'll be moving back in with in the fall.

So, look at them. Look at your parents right now. Or, more likely, your dad and his new wife, who is your age. And your mom and her new boyfriend, who she met on MySpace.

And after the ceremony, I want you to take them aside and say something very important to them: "This is your fault!! Who do you think it was who tanked the economy and spent all the money and melted the planet and let the schools rot?!!"

Yes, it was us. But, at least, I hope we taught you that, in life, there really is no such thing as failure. Because, if there were, we wouldn't be seeing Dick Cheney on TV everyday.

In closing, remember that, above all, that no matter where life takes you, you will always have something deep inside you of great value: plasma!

There is a new car shop near my mom's house in Costa Mesa that specializes in fixing up cars to resemble the design styles of Matchbox cars... freakin' awesome!

From Crackle: A Priest, A Rabbi, and A Minister Preview

"We've been livin' really fast... We've kind of been livin' in the consumptive sheik. Livin' large, the big house, the big cars, and bein' in the laser lane. And one of the things that I've heard from so many of my viewers saying that now that we can't take some of these vacations, we can't buy those X Box '60s, that they're actually bein' forced to have some time with their kids, be out in the yard, throwin' things around, goin' and havin' a picnic instead of goin' to Disneyland or somethin'. So maybe, just maybe, it's causing us to slow down and focus on what really family is all about again."

- Phil McGraw, from "Anderson Cooper 360," March 17, 2009

Consumptive sheik? Laser lane? We?

First of all, many words in the English language end with the letter G. If you cannot pronounce gerunds, you should not be allowed to speak on television.

Secondly, who the f*ck was Phil McGraw talking about?

Third, McGraw was attempting to put some sort of positive spin on the economy. Why? One of my chief problems with quacks like the former doctor is this kind of horsesh*t. Why must people feel good right now? Why must people feel good all the time? Why must there always be a silver lining? Why can't people who experience sad and depressing events be allowed to feel sad and depressed? I'm not saying they have to stay sad and depressed, but they surely shouldn't be forced to try to fool themselves into thinking things aren't sad and depressing. If we can't be down during down times, how can we be up during the up times? Boneheads like McGraw and their psychobabble have created havoc on the emotional state of this nation. People don't know what they're supposed to feel anymore.

McGraw revealed an awful lot about himself in that little soundbite. For starters, he's not talking about "we." McGraw is describing his own life and his own shortcomings. He has been "livin' large," but the enormity of the economic crisis finally got to him. In his guilt, he appeared on Cooper's show under the pretense of wanting to offer comfort to others. In reality, he wanted to bear his soul (who knew the son of a b*tch still had a soul?).

Wherever these people are who have spent the last 20 years ignoring their children to play video games, I am sure Phil McGraw's reassurance is a comfort in these trying times. For the rest of us, the reality of the situation might require a more reasoned approach.

The reality is that many of us cannot afford a picnic. Many of us cannot afford the gasoline needed to make the drive to spend time with our families. Many of us haven't taken a vacation in years. Many of us don't own an X Box.

We don't own homes, and we break our backs to make car payments on mid-size vehicles. Phil McGraw gets more quality family time, and we get the shaft. He appears on TV to make us all feel better, but, instead, he conjures images of the good life we never had... and never will.

On second thought, maybe now is not the time for reasoned approaches.

I am not a man prone to violence, but if I ever meet Phil McGraw, I plan to kick him in the balls.

I guess the folks at Gcast only have one live podcast per user, so when I thought I was creating direct links to specific podcasts I created, I was sorely mistaken. So here is the permanent link to my most recent podcast, though I'd recommend checking out my iTunes feed, where you can subscribe and/or download any podcasts you may have missed.

Subscribe Free Add to my Page

Subscribe Free for future posts Add this player to my Page

Subscribe Free for future posts Add this player to my Page

Yes, I know, domestic abuse is never funny. Not ever. Not even when seemingly talented, independent, and financially well off women stick beside the men who allegedly smack them around. Then it becomes tragic. But it is often said that from tragedy comes comedy. I humbly present the latest in my series of comedy sketches which are funny, but too dark to be produced:

FADE IN on LOSER, a hapless goober who looks and sounds totally defeated. He’s sitting home – alone – and not at all happy with his lot in life

LOSER (talking to himself)

(sighs) Another Saturday night alone. What’s wrong with me? I date a girl, but she never sticks around. (looks at camera) Who can a guy like me turn to for advice on women?

From off camera, you hear two voices say in unison

Maybe we can help!

Extremely up tempo music begins to blast – very up tempo – like funky ‘70s gameshow music, CHRIS BROWN and BOBBY BROWN enter the scene from opposite directions, each placing a hand on the shoulder of our hapless Loser.

LOSER

Wow! Bobby Brown! And Chris Brown, too!

CHRIS

That’s right (to camera). Are you in the same boat as this pathetic loser here?

LOSER (turning to CHRIS)

Hey!

BOBBY (to LOSER)

Shut up while my new protégé is talkin’. (to CHRIS) Say it loud and proud, my brother.

CHRIS

Thanks, Bobby. (back to camera) We’re here to talk about our can’t-miss guide to keeping the girl you love…

CHRIS and BOBBY (in unison)

“Bitch Slap That Ho!”

Both CHRIS and BOBBY reach behind their respective backs and pull out identical copies of books bearing the title, “Bitch Slap That Ho!” subtitled “The Brown Guide to Keeping That Special Someone… Even If She Comes to Her Senses and Tries to Escape”

BOBBY

That’s right. With “Bitch Slap That Ho!”, you learn everything you need to know about keeping the bitches at bay. (holds up book) We got tips in here about how to destroy a girl’s self-esteem…

CHRIS

… And how to land a perfect right hook across her glass jaw…

BOBBY

… And, most important, how to make her think she deserves it…

CHRIS

… Here’s a free hint: It helps if you know a guy who can get your woman hooked on drugs

CLOSE UP on Bobby Brown’s face as he winks into the camera… even include the cheesy, sparkly “Ting” sound effect as he winks

CUT TO the LOSER, still back on his couch

LOSER

But, guys, I don’t know if I can bring myself to hit a girl.

BOBBY

That’s loser-talk. Here… (hands LOSER his copy of the book) turn to Chapter Two, entitled, “Reasons to Bitch Slap That Ho.” Believe me, man, there’s always a reason.

CHRIS

Maybe she makes more money than you…

BOBBY

Maybe she’s got more talent…

CHRIS (working himself into a rage)

Yeah, or maybe she disses you during the Grammy rehearsals, and, you know, you just gotta show that dumbass bitch who’s the man, you know (starts throwing punches in the air), you just gotta give her one of these… and one of those, then you knock her to the ground…

BOBBY

Um… Chris?

CHRIS (ignoring BOBBY)

… Then you drag her around the house by her hair, and…

LOSER is starting to look nervous and apprehensive… clearly afraid of CHRIS

BOBBY

Chris?

CHRIS

… You kick her in the ribcage, man, and I mean hard, and then…

BOBBY

Chris!!!

CHRIS finally snaps out of it and turns to BOBBY. BOBBY looks sheepishly at LOSER then at the camera

BOBBY

I think my man Chris forgot about Chapter Eleven, “Finding Your Happy Place After You’ve Bitch Slapped That Ho.”

CHRIS

Yeah, I’m still workin’ on that last part, Bobby.

BOBBY

Hey, life is a work in progress, babe. But the advice in this book is solid.

CHRIS

Hey, no doubt about that!

BOBBY

So, check it. Go get yourself a copy of “Bitch Slap That Ho!”

CHRIS

And feel free to bitch slap your ho with it!

BOBBY (fist bumps CHRIS)

Now you’re talkin’!

Everybody smiles into the camera and we cut to a CLOSE UP of book with voiceover of NARRATOR

NARRATOR

Yes, friends, that’s “Bitch Slap That Ho: The Brown Guide to Keeping That Special Someone… Even If She Comes to Her Senses and Tries to Escape,” available in the dumpster outside stores where fine books are sold.

President Obama delivers great oratory. When I am being told the economy is in the toilet, it is nice that the words are being spoken eloquently. When I am told to brace for harder times ahead, it is refreshing that the words are pronounced correctly. But when President Obama tells me of the tax cuts headed my way, I note that he doesn't mention they amount to only $8 per week. I suppose I should look on the bright side: With the extra $8, I can afford to buy a six pack of Guinness to drown my financial sorrows.

The economic stimulus provides aid to homeowners. I rent. It offers tax breaks for married couples. I'm single. It gives relief to parents. I have no children. It frees up funds for student loans. I already have a useless degree. It gives aid and comfort to the banks. Despite the fact I haven't charged anything in a year, the banks are presently asking $400 more per month from me than they were a year ago.

Perhaps my favorite American president was FDR. In the midst of what was possibly the worst financial crisis in US history, his "New Deal" spelled out a plan that created an infrastructure, put Americans to work building roads, and outlined a long term strategy for success. That was 80-years-ago. Your know what we have now in this country that didn't exist 80-years-ago? Damn near everything. The whole world has changed (a few times) since the days of FDR. And yet our government's current economic strategy is to mimic what FDR did.

Four score and a few days ago, a great leader brought forth to this nation a new deal... and in all the time that has passed, nobody has come up with anything newer? I find fault with that concept. We can fit the entire Library of Congress onto an iPod with enough room left over for lesbian porn, but our collective intelligence can't conceive of a bold, innovative approach to tackling financial meltdowns?

Infrastructure exists. The roads are built. A new rail system doesn't gel with modern American culture... a culture based on cars... a culture based on cars because of the road system built under FDR. How is that for irony? FDR's plan worked because he saw what the nation needed and went to work fulfilling those national needs. Cut to the present day, and we've skipped that step. We finance banks... why? We bail out failed industries... why? We've skipped over the answers to those questions, because there are no answers to those questions that wouldn't lead to a revolution. We skipped over the part where the government forget to figure out what Americans need.

That is the state we're in. The current plan is a pale shadow of what was once a brilliant and insightful plan. And the former plan casts a long shadow over a crippled economy and a mentally impaired government that couldn't solve the riddle of who is buried in Grant's tomb.

To those of you who bought homes you couldn't afford to own, congratulations. Help is on the way. To those of you who got married for the tax incentives, congratulations. Help is on the way. To those of you who had children you couldn't afford to feed, congratulations. Help is on the way. To those of you about to pursue a useless college degree, congratulations. Help is on the way. To those of you who own banks and other lending institutions, congratulations. Help is on the way.

The Republican Party can bite me. The Democratic Party can get bent. Both parties are as useless as my college degree.

And what state are you in?

If a person has claimed to have been a thing for as long as you have known that person, and the foundation of your friendship with that person is based in part (or limited because of) that thing, then shouldn't that person always be that thing? And to not be that thing any longer, but not expect the friendship to change, would seem somewhat unrealistic, would it not?

The setup for this sketch idea (an idea no program currently on-air would ever dream of producing) is that the chunkheads who produced "Dateline: To Catch a Predator" recently employed similar tactics to confront Leopold Munyakazi and accuse him of genocide in Rwanda. Though the program hasn't aired yet, I think it would go a little something like this:

INTERIOR nondescript kitchen

Enter MUNYAKAZI, carrying flowers and a six pack of Corona

MUNYAKAZI places items on kitchen counter and looks around expectantly

Cut to opening pocket door at other side of kitchen

Enter CHRIS HANSON

HANSON:

Just what were you planning to do with the small, young, African nation?

MUNYAKAZI:

I don't know what you're talking about.

HANSON:

You were going to rape, pillage, and plunder, weren't you?

MUNYAKAZI:

Uh, no. I was just going to talk to Rwanda, that's all.

HANSON:

And who is the beer for?

MUNYAKAZI:

Um... it is for me... for later. It's a hot day, and I didn't want to leave it in the car.

HANSON:

Are you trying to tell me you weren't planning to get Rawanda drunk, then have your way with her?

MUNYAKAZI:

Hell no, man. This is all just a big misunderstanding.

HANSON:

Wait a minute... we've met before, haven't we?

MUNYAKAZI:

I don't know... no... I don't know what you're talking about.

HANSON (voiceover):

It turned out, we had met before... at a sting...

Cut to interior of a different kitchen. MUNYAKAZI and HANSON are there.

MUNYAKAZI:

Come on, man. You saw the way she looked! Angola was askin' for it!

Cut back to the nondescript kitchen. HANSON and MUNYAKAZI are now seated on barstools. MUNYAKAZI is nursing one of the beers he brought, the other bottles lay empty beside him.

HANSON:

Seriously, dude, what were you thinking?

MUNYAKAZI:

I...

HANSON:

What was going through your head?

MUNYAKAZI:

I... I was... it was just something to do, you know. A story to tell.

HANSON:

Rwanda was defenseless.

MUNYAKAZI (tears begin to form):

I know. That was part of the turn on.

HANSON:

You're a sick man. You know that, don't you?

MUNYAKAZI (a barely audible whisper):

Yes... I need help.

HANSON:

What would you say to others like you, who are contemplating doing what you've done?

MUNYAKAZI:

Don't... that they shouldn't do it... it ain't worth it.

HANSON (voiceover):

MUNYAKAZI is, of course, innocent until proven guilty. Coming up after the break...

Cut to third nondescript kitchen. CHRIS HANSON is again in the kitchen, but this time GEORGE BUSH is with him.

HANSON:

Just what were you thinking when you targeted Iraq?

BUSH:

I...

HANSON:

You completely overpowered Iraq. It never stood a chance.

BUSH:

I... I was... it was just something to do, you know. A story to tell. Besides, Iraq was mean to my dad.

###

Sometimes, when you are sitting in a jacuzzi with other people, they engage in a personal conversation, and you have to pretend you can't hear it. But there is a worse scenario, and that is when you are sitting in a jacuzzi and someone is having a very personal conversation on his or her cell phone. You are three feet away, they are shouting into the phone (because they have AT&T), and you have to ignore the whole thing.

Tonight, such an event took place, and I learned all about a 19-year-old girl. A few things about 19-year-old girls in general:

The word "like" is used in lieu of silence.Something is never just something, it is always "totally" something.Every sentence ends with the words, "and stuff."Because of these lexicographic idiosyncrasies, I find it difficult to take 19-year-old girls seriously. Imagine Albert Einstein as a 19-year-old girl ("E like totally equals like M like C like squared and stuff").

This 19-year-old girl had two cell phone conversations in front of me, first talking on the phone to someone named Heather. She and Heather like totally related and stuff (once you fall into the speech pattern, it is like so totally hard to get out of and stuff). And there was a good reason they related so well: They were related. Heather was the girl's mother. And Heather so totally "got" her daughter. They both had tumultuous teenage years, doing drugs, drinking copious amounts of alcohol, and having wicked mad amounts of sex. This girl and Heather had a lot in common. So much so that the girl couldn't wait to hang up the phone so she could call her mother and tell her all about it.

This confused me for a few moments. Wait for it... let it happen... yes. You got it. The 19-year-old girl was adopted. Heather was the biological mother, and the two were having their second conversation ever while I was sitting in a jacuzzi trying to relax. But then the 19-year-old girl decided to call her mother and share the totally awesome news that the biological mother was totally cool. Because there is nothing a mother (I won't call her an "adoptive mother" or any such nonsense... you raise a child, you are that child's mother) wants to hear more than being told you are inferior to a drugged up, liquored up whore.

Not only did the 19-year-old girl have the lack of tact to have two very personal and private conversations in front of a total stranger in a jacuzzi, but in one of those conversations, the 19-year-old girl couldn't comprehend why her mother was having a hysterical crying jag. After all, the girl was calling to tell her mother the good news that she had finally found someone she could talk to and share things with. The girl could not understand why her mother couldn't just be happy for her.

Suffice it to say, the jacuzzi was not very relaxing tonight.

I'm watching the George Carlin/Mark Twain special on PBS. Jon Stewart just said "cheese-tits" several times during his monologue, and PBS censored all but one of the utterances (the first). Why is the word appropriate once, but not two or three times? Is one "cheese-tits," by itself, not inflammatory, but multiple "cheese-tits" completely unacceptable?

I really don't care about the answer, I'm just happy I live in a nation where I can publicly exclaim "cheese-tits!"

It has been a while since I've generated a list of podcast picks. Here are a few that I've recently taken to:

"Attack of the Show's Daily Video Podcast" - I would like to confess that AOTS host Olivia Munn and I have been having a torrid affair. I would also like to run faster than a speeding bullet, but let's get serious. So until my favorite pie freak with a fear of popping balloons makes her way to San Diego, I have to settle for clips of her in a genuinely fun series.

"CBC Radio: Q The Podcast" and "Q TV" - Highlights from a not very good Canadian radio show that somehow manages to land really cool guests. Check out the video podcasts of Super Dave Osborne or two of The Kids In The Hall, both outstanding in spite of the lackluster host.

"Robert Llewellyn's Machine of the Week" - Kryton from "Red Dwarf" hosts brief reviews of the latest gadgets, with a focus on clean machines and green technology.

"TED Talks (Video)" - For the ultra-geek, many of the TED Talks lecture series are available in podcast form. I recommend the freak of nature that is Clifford Stoll, as well as lectures by Kary Mullis, David Carson, and John Hodgman. All of them funny and inspiring.

"The Official Scrubs Podcast" - Bill Lawrence and Zach Braff have been providing commentaries (not concurrent commentary tracks, just a set of informal sit-downs) on episodes airing on ABC. It is nice when the major players of a show take the time and trouble to host a podcast.

And now, for the sake of keeping track of things, a few podcasts I have unsubscribed from:

"MSNBC Countdown (Video)" - I'm sorry, but Keith and O'Reilly are two sides of the same coin. And just because I agree with Keith's politics is not enough reason to endure the name calling and pedantic crap seen nightly on his show.

"SModcast - Quick Stop Entertainment" - Kevin Smith is one of my favorite screenwriters, and the DVDs of his public speaking tours are all funny and entertaining. I've sat through the last six or seven of his podcasts, and he has been stoned through all of them... to the point where he becomes incoherent. It is not entertaining. It is not funny. It is sad. To paraphrase the dean from "Animal House": Fat, stoned, and stupid is no way to go through life.

"Townhall.com - Dennis Prager" - Even if his dislike of liberals/Democrats hadn't turned nasty during the recent election, the podcasts are now available only for a fee (for a while, low quality podcasts were being offered with commericials). I'm still not ready to pay for podcasts... not when there are so many good ones available free-of-charge.

And a soon-to-be fond farewell to:

"NPR: Satire from The Unger Report Podcast" - Former "Daily Show" correspondent Brian Unger has been providing regular segments to NPR for a few years, but the specific series he's been contributing to is folding, and his podcast is expected to fold with it. I wish him well, and hope his humor finds a new home elsewhere.

Links to my previous podcast reviews:

Podcast Picks

&

More Podcast Picks

Did anyone ever see the first season of Mystery Science Theater 3000? Not the Comedy Channel version, but the series as it aired early on in Minnesota? The cast did live, unscripted commentary of the movies, and they improvised nearly everything. Series creator Joel Hodgson cites those episodes as some of the worst work ever produced for the boob tube. Speaking of boobs, the "90210" episode guides (a series featuring lots of boobs... nice segue, huh?) I've been writing have been generally well received, but still no notice from the exalted one herself. That's right, still no word from my future ex-wife, Shannen Doherty. So, I'm kicking things up a notch. This Tuesday at 8:00 p.m. (PST) I'll be live on Stickam, along with anyone else who wants to join me. As "90210" rolls, something akin to a live commentary track will occur. It is not only my first such online video/audio venture, but my first time publicly mocking this series. In other words, it should be painful for all concerned. Particularly when you realize that anyone can potentially join in the fun and heckle me while I'm heckling the show. So turn down the lights (where applicable), and tune in to The CW and Stickam on Tuesday. Note to non-PST residents: Record/Tivo/DVR the show and you can still be a part of the biggest train wreck since "Ishtar."

Looking for comedy? Might I suggest a dramatic reading of Lindsay Lohen's MySpace Blog? Reading about the vacuous existence of an unintelligent starlet, I cannot help but smile. She thinks she matters, and hundreds of equally vapid people who have posted comments on her blog think she matters, too. Who will they turn to in five years? Or five months? Or five weeks?

It as all too cute for words.

Previously on Shannen Doherty: I don't remember. I think I've managed to block "90210" from my mind. I know Shannen didn't appear topless. I would have remembered that Tonight on Shannen Doherty: Forgive me, but I can't do my usual summary. The one dimensional teenage stereotypes... the teacher who doesn't seem to teach any particular subject... prolonged exposure to this series should come with a warning from the Surgeon General. Shannen sat in a doctor's office, receiving bad news. Adriana, a recently reformed teenage drug addict, asked Jennie Garth's breasts to contact Shannen, hoping she might accompany her to a rehab reunion. When Jennie Garth's breasts visited Shannen, Shannen was standoffish, clearly still troubled be the as-yet-unnamed problem her doctor told her about. Shannen showed Jennie Garth's breasts the door. Eventually, after some off-camera soul searching, Shannen met up with Adriana and Jennie Garth's breasts at the rehab shin-dig (lame party... alcohol was not served). As the party was winding down, Shannen started to confide in Jennie Garth's breasts, but Adriana and her sponsor interrupted with bad news about an ex-boyfriend who relapsed. Upon learning that he had HIV, Adriana went for testing, with Shannen and Jennie Garth's breasts joining her for immoral support. Adriana turned out clean, but pregnant. For some reason, Shannen freaked out and bailed. When Jennie Garth's breasts went to Shannen's house to confront Shannen, Shannen revealed that she was told she could not have kids. Shannen then revealed she wanted to adopt a baby. Tune in next week when you'll hear Shannen say:

"OK, but only if you provide the latex." For those who actually give a rat's ass about the non-Shannen characters... a brief recap: The alleged half-brother of two feuding teenage bimbi (plural of bimbo) seemed to be plotting to get money from the adult members of the cast (that is, the adult members of the cast playing adults, as opposed to the adults playing teenagers). One teenage bimbo was suspicious, as was her mom. Meanwhile her brother, an adopted African American, lied to his non African American girlfriend so he could hang out with an African American girl and her equally African American friends and family. But it turned out the girl was a lesbian (with an exceptionally cute girlfriend, I might add). The African American members of the cast sang "Amazing Grace." The alleged half-brother agreed to a blood test to remove the word "alleged" from the character description. But, the next day, he vanished without a trace, absconding with money taken from the marginally less likable adult members of the cast.

Five years. Four addresses. Five jobs. One funeral.

Welcome back, my friends, to the online therapy session that never ends.

How do I summarize a half a decade of my life in a few paragraphs? At this point, five years is a drop in the bucket. It's roughly a seventh of my life. A few things the other sevenths of my life held: birth, puberty, poverty, devirginization, graduation, and Hollywood (to name a select few). Oh yeah, and there as that whole Peace Corps thing.

Next week it will have been five years since my plane touched down in California, the last step of a premature end to my days as a volunteer in Kazakhstan. Chronic intermittent stomach pain was my undoing. While I was there, I fell in love... twice, was physically in the best shape of my life (stomach issues aside, of course), and (according to sources) was the target of short, whiny, Russian terrorists hellbent on murdering me for my oilwells. Oh, and one time, I crapped my pants (not a lot, but a little goes a long way)... a rite of passage in the Peace Corps.

You know the expression, "it doesn't seem like it has been five years?" Well in my case it does seem like it has been five years. I experienced some of the most memorable moments of my life in Central Asia, but five years out I'm having trouble remembering a lot of it. I remember faces without names and incidents without specific dates. It is becoming a jumble... much like the rest of my life.

If, as they say, the moments are all we have, then what does it say when the moments blur and fade? I lived a half a world away for an entire year, a change one could only describe as dramatic, but five years later it has merged with all the rest of the junk cluttering my mind. I don't want it to do that. I spoke another language for goodness sake, and even that has been reduced to a few words and phrases.

The human mind is a complex set of somethings that when something happens, it cause something else to happen, and all of those somethings join together to make... something. Perhaps if I'd paid more attention in science class, I would know how my mind works. And perhaps if I knew how my mind worked I'd be better able to keep my memories intact, and possibly delete the bad ones. Perhaps not.

Five years ago, I was sitting in a hotel room in Roslyn, VA waiting for the Peace Corps powers-that-be to decide my fate. And while I understood their decision at the time, I felt then (and now) that they chose poorly. The mildly compulsive part of my nature hates leaving things unfinished. To this day I regret not having been able to spend one more year in Central Asia.

As I noted at the time, there is a freedom that can only come from living in a foreign land surrounded by strangers. I'm not talking about visiting as a tourist... I'm talking about packing up and living a life elsewhere. The locals already expect you to be different from them, so there's no point in trying to be what might be conventionally defined as "normal." You say and do whatever you want (within limited reason, of course), and though many assume I do that wherever I hang my hat... they have no idea.

My current job does not allow me to be myself. I can be a heavily filtered version of myself, but it isn't the same. My preference in life has always been to be who I am with as little pretense as possible, and I am keenly aware that preference has cost me relationships and financial gain over the years. At day's end, I'd rather be myself alone than somebody else with somebody else, and I'd rather be myself poor than somebody else rich. Which was why, being myself alone and poor, the Peace Corps was perfect for me. It allowed me to genuinely fall in love and experience life in its purest, rawest form. Five years later, I still miss it.

Just dropping a line to mention I was one of those devotees who shelled out wads of cash for the full volume set of Babylon 5 scripts penned by creator J Michael Straczynski. This includes the bonus book given as a free gift to those of us who bought the full set of scripts. Joe has already stated he'll produce a similar set of books for Crusade and the subsequent B5 spinoff attempts, but there is a nicety to the completeness of this set of scriptbooks. The revelations and commentaries JMS wrote at the top of each volume go a long way towards explaining the process of writing, selling, and producing a television show (though all accounts are obviously written from Joe's personal bias). And the memorial testimonies offered at the passing of Andreas Katsulas and Richard Biggs were touching, personal eulogies that left me feeling like I actually knew those who had passed. In short, the books might not appreciate in financial value, but they still seem a worthwhile purchase to me.

Cafe Press (the online printer and distributor of the books) seems an ideal outlet for books of this type, so much so that I'm shocked other writers aren't self-publishing their own work in a like manner (a set of books containing the handful of B5 scripts NOT written by JMS has already begun releasing volumes, but my budget is stretched too thin to continue the buying frenzy). Surely writers who consider what is on the page to be at least as important as what is on the stage (Aaron Sorkin, David Milch, and Glenn Caron's names leap immediately to mind) would want the words to be seen and experienced as they were written, along with tales of the process. I know Sorkin released a few West Wing scripts in book form, but this particular company (and the format JMS seems to have created) makes it possible for entire seasons of scripts to be released with little to no effort or expense (Cafe Press prints only as many books as are sold, so there is no minimum run and no set-up fee).

It is also worth mentioning JMS currently has at least nine film scripts in production with major producers, directors, and actors in Hollywood, and these books are a unique look at how a guy goes from writing goofy scripts for He-Man cartoons to being what Variety recently called one of the top 10 screenwriters in Hollywood.

Hopefully folks took my advice back in October of 2005 when I first made mention of the scripts becoming formally public for sale. If not, then I guess this is my chance to gloat... I finally got one right.

Thanks Joe.

Free time. Time to relax. Time to take care of all the little things you don't normally have time for. Time to think. Uh oh.

Two days ago I got pissed at a packet of hot dogs. I wish I was kidding. I was trying to squeeze the open packet into a Ziplock bag, something I've done many times in the past without incident. Yet despite the fact two of the hot dogs had been removed from the packet (for consumption purposes, and don't even start on me and my diet), I couldn't get the bag to seal around the hot dogs. Before I knew what had happened, the hot dogs went sailing across the room... something the Ziplock bag was not designed to do. A small but uncontained explosion of plastic and meat by-product ensued. Later, as I sat there cleaning up shattered wiener remnants (insert innuendo here), I couldn't help but ponder what (or who) it was I was truly angry at.

I stopped drinking caffeine years ago. It made me extra-irritable. During what I call me caffeinated phase, I broke windows with my bare hands, plunged screwdrivers into walls, and through my entire collection of music against a wall (back then, the collection was mostly audio cassettes). I'm surprised I never stroked out while on the stuff. During my post-caffeinated phase, I haven't lost my temper nearly as much, and when I have it has been about something big... until the #@$!ing hot dogs. And I haven't felt any violent tendencies towards innanimate objects in this millennium... until the #@$!ing hot dogs. I feel like I've regressed, and I'm not sure how or why.

I'm the sort of guy who detests change, but recently I've felt the sudden and almost desperate need for a massive, positive, life altering event. I can't explain it, but I feel the need for something new to happen soon, or I'm going to pop. Naturally, whenever I take steps to enact change in my life, it has a tendency to backfire terribly. Any change that happens in my life has to happen in spite of me, not because of me. I'm frustrated, somewhat confused, and more than a little bit tired of the routine. But typically any break in the routine is due to something bad gumming up the works, so to speak. I want a break with a positive, even optimal event taking place. With as little self-esteem as I have, I feel entitled to a little happiness at this stage in my life.

In the meantime, beware any innanimate objects that cross my path.

My attitude towards life at this point: things could be worse. Sure, I have too much credit card debt for home ownership to become viable. And the argument could be made that I've wasted roughly a third of my life chasing after the wrong woman. Then there's my sister following the path of my oldest brother and my mom in terms of being diagnosed with a heart condition. I also need to lose weight. Additionally, as I sit here typing this, somebody is blaring wretched pop music, and even though there are currently three drop dead gorgeous women tanning themselves less then 15 feet from where I sit, none of them have plans to have sex with me. I still have over a month of summer vacation, but I lack the money to really go anywhere or do anything. Oh, I didn't get nearly enough sleep last night, and the last several nights I've had dreams that might not qualify as nightmares, but they were disturbing enough to leave me unsettled.

But things could be worse.

Approximately two months ago, I purchased (OK charged) a new MacBook. The plan was to automatically pay off the purchase with my tax refund and "economic stimulus" check. I'm still waiting on both checks to arrive, but that is neither here nor there (nor is the fact my brakes went out and I've incurred a few other expenses along the way... nope... no here nor there at this point).

First and foremost, I dig this computer. It is head and shoulders above the Vista-based laptop I've used over the last year (loaned to me by my place of business). And it is head and shoulders above the last computer I purchased, an iMac (bought back in 1998). I went with the slightly higher processor speed and larger hard drive, but I didn't feel the need to upgrade to a MacBook Pro. The only practical benefit I saw with the Pro was a slightly larger screen.

I bought Norton's virus protection software and Final Cut Express. I also went ahead and purchased a wireless mouse, which I confess I don't use nearly enough, though I should since trackpads have never been my preference. I bought adaptors that allow me to connect to both an overhead projection system (at work) and any TV with either a standard video or S-Video input (at home). I bought the Airport Extreme wireless network for my apartment, which I concede is overkill. My work also provided the latest version of Microsoft's Office suite of software (we have a site license). I installed Firefox (version 3.0, thank you very much), Adium, Skype, and of course iTunes, not to mention a few games from the good folks at download.com (or perhaps it should be Download.Com... never quite sure how to include web sources in written text).

I have owned Apple computers since the late 1980s, and used Windows-based PCs since the early 1990s. I'm not about to get into a whole Mac vs. PC debate. Suffice it to say, Macs are better for me... that might not be the case for everyone on the planet, though the Vista operating platform will almost certainly send people to the Apple store. In any case, I know both formats well and have used them extensively for apx. 20 years.

What I want to do now is sing the praises and point out the flaws in my MacBook. No computer is perfect. In fact, many computers are obsolete before they are even purchased. It is worth noting what works well and what needs improvement, and that includes user error as much as any factory-related flaws.

I'll start with what most users find themselves doing upon purchasing a new computer: transferring files, documents, and applications from their old computer. This proved staggeringly easy. In fact, a few years ago I installed Adobe's Creative Suite onto my old iMac and, long story short, I no longer have the installation discs. I was certain copy protection would prevent me from transferring the software from one computer to another, but everything went like clockwork.

One sidenote about the older Adobe software... it is the only software on my new MacBook designed for the earlier version of OSX (and the earlier processor). The boot-up process is flawless, though it takes a few seconds longer. One thing worth noting is that for these earlier applications, double clicking on a file will open the application, but not the specific file itself. It is, if not exactly a glitch, at least an inconvenience.

I also feared copy protection would prevent me from copying my extensive iTunes library (found on two computers, since my work computer played video clips while my old iMac did not), but I encountered no problems at all. I was particularly worried songs and videos purchased off of the iTunes store (as oppose to media copied from my CD collection) wouldn't transfer, but they did with ease. I am, however, still reorganizing the media since iTunes folders don't transfer. A different version of iTunes also doesn't recognize that podcasts have been played elsewhere, so I have a lot of podcasts marked as unplayed.

File organization now more or less mimics the Windows Explorer directory system (though it can be switched to Mac's more traditional folder view). "Spotlight" replaces the older method of finding files, and I confess I'm still getting used to that. One key difference is that I am very often trying to locate a file, not to open it, but to copy it or move it to another folder. Clicking on the file in Spotlight doesn't take you to the file... it opens it instead. There may be a way to change the default on that, but I haven't found it yet.

Setting up the Airport network wasn't as easy as I expected it to be given the plug-and-play feature of most Apple products. It took me a few attempts to set the network name and password before everything worked properly. Personally, I assume the extra grief is due to the fact the Airport is designed to work with both Mac and PC laptops, and nothing is easy when it comes to PC-based installations. For the record, the wireless mouse took me less than a minute to set up and use.

A few Apple features still bug me. To me, iPhoto is a big waste of space, and I find it annoying so many things one does with pictures automatically defaults to iPhoto. Pictures can be stored in folders and Preview can run a slideshow, so organization and viewing are easier elsewhere. For those of us with Photoshop, iPhoto becomes utterly useless. And both Expose and Spaces do nothing for the average user. Garage Band and Photo Booth are mildly entertaining wastes of time... nothing more. For PC users, a chief complaint about Macs is the cost. Take out a few of the "cutesy" features, drop the cost a bit, and I would suspect sales would increase.

Having spent the last 10 months getting aquainted with Office 2007 for the PC, imagine my surprise that Office 2008 for the Mac is a dramatic step backwards. For the first time since its creation, Office for the PC made sense. Though it takes some getting used to, the ribbons are a much better alternative to drop down menus, and items are placed more intuitively. Office 2008 for the Mac has none of the user-friendly environment of its closest PC cousin. Commonly used features in Word, Excel, and PowerPoint are buried under submenus. I can only assume Microsoft did this as a last ditch effort to keep Windows users from switching to the Mac platform. In my case, it is making me become better acquainted with the online suite of applications offered free of charge by Google.

My favorite feature so far has been the $11 adaptor that connects my laptop to my television. I've watched several programs on Hulu, and to be able to instantly see on a TV screen any video editing I do is well worth the minimal cost. It is also neat to Skype on a big screen.

So far, though I admit I have not dived in too deeply, I am displeased with both iMovie and Final Cut Express. I am blessed with the sort of brain that instinctively understands how software works without the need to pour through manuals or walk myself through any tutorial process, but Final Cut has me stumped. I am going to have to devote serious time to that program. And the latest version of iMovie is... just... so... different. I guess for someone like me who first learned video editing using linear analog tape-to-tape equipment, I struggle with the "freedom" that comes from non-linear thinking, which is what the latest version of iMovie seems perfect for.

Like I stated at the top, some of these problems stem from the factory, while others are the fault of the user. But overall I am pleased with the purchase. My MacBook has already become an electronic extension of my brain, altering my work and play habits in much the same way my iPod did five years ago. Hopefully, what works well will continue to thrive while what needs improvement will either be fixed or replaced by something as yet unthought of.