Category Archives: Entertainment

Toko: Yoda’s Jedi grandkid

So, I just ran across this Baby Yoda meme, and it didn’t register until my son, up for the holidays, started talking about the Mandalorian. “Wait a minute, I wrote a cheap-ass story about a baby Yoda.” Not a baby really,  but Yoda’s grandkid: Toko. This was nearly three years ago… But here’s the tongue-in-cheek post…

TokoYodasGrandKid

 

 


Dear Mudge, Ray Harryhausen

 

ClashOfTitans

Dear Mudge,

I recently got “written up” at work. It seems that when I speak my mind, I get in trouble. I’d gotten into dust-ups prior to this one (it’s only been a year), but this latest had happened with a person closely attached to the boss’ boss and so resulted in HR action. I did reach out and ameliorate the rift—a walk to the local coffee shop, but the incident brand my mind with the implications of termination. Just. Keep. Your. Damn. Mouth. Shut, has become my new mantra. Needless to say, recent weeks have seen me exhibiting a lassitude seldom witnessed. Speaking my mind here however, is never an issue.

~~~

We’ve managed to gather up a bevy of interesting topics thus far. I’m sure others will join the fray. Returning to one…

You’re right, Occam’s razor should have been our first go-to solution per our shared, seemingly hypocritical adoption of societal conformity. There’s a reason downstream is more attractive than upstream/cross-stream. Adolescent salmon would have a thing or two to tell us. I suppose though, rebellion comes as a spectrum. I, for one, will never truly fit in anywhere except for the recessed niches of my mind. But outwardly, I appear as if molded by society’s template; I wear shoes and pants, smile at strangers, hold doors for old ladies, and rarely piss behind alleyway dumpsters.

Indulgences (and indigestion) aside, the Epicureans may have something yet to teach us. I’ll dig through my (google) notes and try and derive some useful suggestions. Stewie the Stoic, though pithy, provided little in the way of true guidance in this time of Absurd Universe contemplation. (On first pass, Epicurus has much to say about friendship.)

In the mean time, perhaps we could play to your recently acquired pastime (obsession?). I’d suggest that in your examination of television shows you profess a hidden pedantic inclination to be a student of society. This, I believe, you originally offered in our opening salvos of correspondence. Well then, let’s dial this in, shall we. (Christ! Ignore my plebeian attempts at humor, I’m such an adolescent when it comes to clever word-play.)

Ahem. So, what of Special Effects.

How the hell did anyone accept the visual papier-mâché that pre-2000’s special effects offered in movies and television? Today, one can barely (if at all) tell CG imagery from real life. Coming away from any movie these days, you’d be forgiven for the impression that what you witnessed wasn’t a documentary.

But FX of yester-year? Talk about major suckage. How could we have been taken in by such poor attempts at sur-reality? Were we that gullible, that blind to the clay-mation over our eyes?

I suppose the question is, were we actually duped? And regardless, did it matter?

Your friend,
Mole


Dear Mole, Indigestion

ozzy

Beware of Greeks bearing gifts.  A simplification of the heart of Epicureanism seems to make it align with one of my earliest teenage epiphanies: “The meaning of life is to enjoy oneself”.  Simple enough.  Despite all of my intellectual self-torture in the ensuing years, the only change to this basic worldview has been the addition of the disclaimer, “…without causing intentional harm to others.”  And just like that, Bacchanalia became Buddhism but Buddhism stripped of its supernatural elements is essentially Epicureanism for the empathy-prone.

Going back to the previous topic of why we still adhere to most of society’s rules despite having mentally divorced ourselves from its cultural tendrils, I think we missed the most obvious reason for this: it’s just easier.  In establishing that we both still pursue enjoyment in our particular ways, we also established that we’d prefer to avoid unnecessary suffering.  When one flagrantly flaunts society’s conventions, jail is often the outcome of such behavior.  I’d do terrible in prison.  Worse than most.

My problem with a passionate embrace of a pleasure-seeking life is that very little gives me pleasure anymore.  I eat in order to avoid the feeling of hunger, but I hate cooking and three decades of smoking has dulled my palette.  Alcohol and all drugs aside from medically prescribed weed are verboten (see the desire to avoid incarceration in the previous paragraph).  I still love music, but the way it would shake me to my very soul in my youth is an increasing rarity.  The entire world of sex and romance — once my very raison d’etre — is something I now find an unnecessary hassle.  In other words, despite the fact that I still have a hint of a sex drive, the negatives of dating far outweigh the potential positives.

So I watch a lot of TV and sometimes I even show up here on WordPress and write about shit that I watched on TV.  I’ve already explained my love of passive activities, but TV is also where I gather new material at which to laugh.

What did Epicurus or Lucretius have to say about laughter?  If I possess any skill whatsoever, it’s the ability to find the humor in everything.  It is literally what keeps me sane (and amused).  Would you guess that this love of comedy says something deeper about my need for constant reminders of the absurdity of it all?  Does it perhaps betray the fact that I don’t really feel it to be as laughable as I contend?

You now have a picture of Ozzy sitting on the toilet gracing your blog page.  You’re welcome.  That’s what friends are for.

If,

‘Mudge

 


WizardEarth: The Forgotten Web

Nearly twenty years ago I decided to create a collaborative writing website where many authors could team together to contribute to writing fan fiction (or whatever).

I called it WizardEarth and I built a whole database and web application to support it. Today, as I dug around The Wayback Machine looking for TomBeingTom’s old page, I happened to enter some of my old domain names and there were these images I’d manufactured, all those years ago, to start the authoring process.

To begin, I’d created four foundational stories. Each was a Harry Potter sequel. I never really got anywhere with it. But I still own the domain WizardEarth.com (empty now).


Jamie Potter and the Ghost of St. Marks
(Jamie was Harry & Jennie’s daughter. Yeah, I figured that those two would get married right after I’d read the 2nd book.)
JamiePotter

Lawrence Potter and the Eye of Mistraal.
(Larry was their son.)
LawrencePotter

Lady Josephine Potter and the Drakar Revolt of 1863.
(Josephine was Harry’s grandmother on his father’s side.)
LadyJosephinePotter

Sir Leopold Potter and the Starfire Treasure Defense.
(Leopold was Harry’s grandfather on his father’s side.)
SirLeopoldPotter


Stewie the Stoic: Time

StewieTheStoic001

[Quotes courtesy of Seneca]

 


Your Favorite: a stand-up round

Where I’m working, we have morning stand-ups: a quick meeting where 10 -/+ of us round the room explaining yesterday’s and today’s tasks. Everyone takes a monthly turn at leading. June is my month. So, first off, I built a spinner to pick who goes first:

Spinner

Then, I provided a list of topics that each person could volunteer their favorite. Each day a different topic:

Favorite…

  • Media
    • Movies
    • Books, stories, games
    • Media star or fictional character – hero, villain or
    • Fictional location – in what fictional land would you care to live or visit
    • Meme/genre: sci-fi, fantasy, time shift, horror, dystopia, CSI, medical, cops/crime
  • Food
    • A meal or food you’d eat every day for the rest of your life
    • Beverage
    • Sweet or treat: childhood or now
    • Least favorite food
    • Haven’t tried but would like to
  • Travel
    • Prior vacation spot
    • Desired vacation spot
    • Live the rest of your life
    • Would never travel to, worst placed you’ve lived
    • Where would you take the entire team?
  • Misc
    • Favorite science meme: fusion, space elevator, Moon/Mars colony, robots, AI, etc.
    • Music, do you play an instrument, can you dance, are you in a band?
    • Unknown skills (art, maker, cooking, crafts, etc.)
    • Pet, childhood memory, hobby, best/worst job
    • Bucket list: anything

So far the answers have been fun, strange and entertaining.

(Who knew that some folks don’t like shrimp, sushi, liver & onions, cilantro, bean sprouts? Odd people, these.)


Masturbating cockatiel

Enrique permanently dropped off his pet cockatiel, Perrico, a lovely male with an exceptional attitude.

I lived with Tom, my twenties’ mentor, in a house in Marin County. Enrique worked for Tom and, for the time being, so did I. Tom never married, owned a Cessna, mined California gold, hunted in Montana and lived to adventure. Life with Tom was a blast.

Meals were a crap-shoot with Tom. Often, I’d make a batch of popcorn over the gas stove — I got very good at its production, nary a kernel went unpopped. Perrico loved popcorn. The cockatiel would wait for an offering and hop down on the carpet to eat. Later, we’d find him inside the wide pot, pecking at the remains. He also loved to play.

Tom would carry him back to the far bedroom and toss him into the air. He’d fly around the house looking for me, finally landing on top of my head when I was located — often hiding to challenge him.

He’d rarely sing. No, that’s not true. He’d often sing but, only on special occasions — right after he finished masturbating on your thumb.

During the evenings, he spent little time in his cage, often just sitting around on top of us or things while we read our books. However, if you held him on your index finger, with his butt positioned over the knuckle of your thumb, he would begin the strangest dance. He’d start to rub his hidden dick on that bump. He rub and rub until, with an arched back, he’d cum. A tiny wet spot would materialize and he’d start to sing as if he were an opera star.

If you interrupted him, he’d become mighty cross and attempt to bite your hand and would squawk a raucous noise.

I left in autumn, headed back to school. In November that year, Tom opened the front door to go to work, having forgotten to cage Perrico the night before. The bird went for the bright light, flew up into the foggy morning and was never seen again.