Jason Luna Productions

I Killed Hitler!

2011-12-29T17:59:00.000-08:00

I KILLED HITLER!

By Jason Luna

“It was all black, but black I was familiar with, I guess. I didn’t really stop to regain my bearings, other than what was absolutely necessary. Maybe when there was a turn in the hallway, that sort of thing.

“The hallway, right. It was always the same, never changing. You couldn’t tell any particular piece apart. If you didn’t know where you were going, then you’d probably have to ask for directions.

“I didn’t see anyone, but I figured I knew where they were.

“I figured as much, after the fact. That’s how I figured it out. I was walking down a hallway the whole time. But my pace would get real slow, I’d look around, and then I’d start up again. It was so dark that I can’t say for sure, but that must’ve been where soldiers were holed up.

“I walked like this for awhile, when I noticed something. Well, it seemed noteworthy to me, at least. No one even bothered to guard it.

“You want me to describe it? OK, sure. When you got near a piece of the wall anywhere else, you could see the faint outline of bricks. You know, wall stuff. But this was pitch black. If I didn’t reach my hand out and touch it, I might of thought it was a window, and it was pitch black outside.

“It was a vault door, an old timey one. You might have been able to lock it normally, which I point out because if you could, someone really dropped the ball on that. Or they just didn’t care.

“Anyway, I pulled the door open, with one hand, and it floated like a cloud in a dream. I walked in and-

“Huh? No, I didn’t put the door back into place. I just walked right in.

“Why did I walk right in? Because I’m fearless, that’s why!

“Now, inside this vault, or whatever you’d call it, there was a table.

“A real nice table. With a red and white tablecloth, like at an Italian restaurant.

“How could I see that? Because of the candles on the table! There was a woman on the floor, passed out or dead (figure out for yourself which one I think it was) on the ground.

“I walked faster and found him in the corner. He looked sick, even before I found him there. He started to get up for me. He was happy to see me, even when I pulled out my sidearm and- BLAM!”

****

“What is it, Doctor? You saying that I couldn’t have done it? I’ll have you know that I went AWOL in Germany, right when it happened. What I’m saying is, I could have been there, I could have done it!

“And as far as what you know about how he died, that’s just it! We don’t know anything! We know he’s dead, but we don’t know who done him in and how, precisely, do we? I could’ve used a gun, a crossbow, an axe, my own hands, anything! Anything!”

The doctor sighed as he leaned back and crossed his arms.

“It’s not that I don’t believe you.” the doctor said. “It just doesn’t matter. Can’t you see that?”

THE END

Bears

2011-12-17T19:57:00.000-08:00

Bears

By Jason Luna

He was gliding through a path.

A path littered with rocks, pain, and gravity.

He wasn’t overcoming fear, he was fear.

He was going to fall. He’d seen it happen to everyone else.

He didn’t stop to think, he didn’t even plan his ascent.

Escape wasn’t closer, even as he got higher and higher.

His nose bled in sympathy.

This bear loved him. Even when it ate others, it always thought of him. He could tell.

“If God didn’t name me Salmon, I might chose it, right now,” he thought to himself, looking down.

God is still credible in this forest. But what of The Holy Bears, blessed with eternal life, wanting not for meat nor sport? Did God have plans for all of those disfigured Jonahs, inside the belly of the bear?

***

Salmon reached the summit.

He was speechless. He had no other choice.

He had to catch his breath.

He was tired.

Salmon began to sink into the dirt.

Before he could become one with the pebbles, he was lifted to his feet.

“Congratulations!” a voice boomed, with a head of bright yellow straw.

Salmon was much larger than him.

The straw man helped him across the mountain top.

Before Salmon could see the other side, a knife swiftly swiped the back of his knees.

He fell to the ground.

Two straw men, now towering straw men, turned him over.

They lifted him up, and carried him.

They must’ve seen Salmon turning his head, because someone laughed.

“Don’t ruin your surprise!” a straw man said.

They lowered him onto the ground, but it wasn’t the ground he was used to.

It didn’t scratch him as much as Mother Earth and Father Dirt.

It tickled him a little bit, like it had tiny fur on it.

“Is it wood?” Salmon asked himself, asked God, asked anyone who would listen.

“You must feel so blessed!” a straw man said.

Another one held him down by the shoulder with large hands, as the man of straw stuffed a bow into his mouth.

“You have passed a test you didn’t realize you were taking-”

“-To earn a reward you didn’t realize was possible,” two voices linked perfectly, as one.

“And if I can give you some helpful advice,” a straw man said.

“If you can run, run.”

-STRAW MAN

Salmon was no longer paying attention, but he noticed some straw tickling his nose.

Before the darkness, Salmon noticed that his bow was pink.

Call it a salmon bow for Salmon.

“Maybe God shines on us, in his way,” he mumbled through the gag, closing his eyes as he felt a sickening lack of balance in his stomach.

The Redux Zone- By Me!

2011-12-14T05:55:00.000-08:00

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=xS5Nz2dUGb0&feature=g-upl

This is another Jason Luna Production.

It was supposed to be a Twilight Zone homage, but then SOMETHING HAPPENED!

It's probably the limitations of my filmmaking capacity, but IT HAPPENED! AND NOTHING WAS EVER THE SAME!

Well, some things are still the same. I still have that SNAZZY SWEATER!

Enjoy!

"The Wilmot Peterson Show" 1st episode- by me!

2011-12-14T05:47:00.000-08:00

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=_JlADUS4eEY&feature=g-upl

I wrote/directed a pilot for a sitcom, "The Wilmot Peterson Show". It's only 2 minutes long, and it has a lot of cursing in it. Otherwise, it's primetime gold.

The first episode is called "Ibid". It's clever.

Jason Luna on about.com! READ IT!

2011-12-01T00:20:00.001-08:00

http://gameshows.about.com/od/beacontestant/a/Game-Show-Casting-How-To-Stand-Out.htm

I wrote an article about how to audition successfully for a game show. Which I'm awesome at, because I'm rich, bio***!

Seriously, read the article. Journalism is almost dead in this country, and needs your help.

"A Day In The Life Of Dale O'Quirky"

2011-11-17T09:30:00.001-08:00

A Day In The Life Of Dale O'Quirky

Written And Directed By Jason Luna

Dale O'Quirky- Marcus Luna

Dale O’Quirky (Marcus Luna) is a man who loves technology to the extreme. A futurist, he assumes that the next advancement in personal electronics will make his life better in ways that he can’t even imagine. This quickly becomes a self-fulfilling prophecy, in which the idea that a piece of technology is “advanced” becomes more important than the actual services it provides. Convincing himself that he gets happiness from an electronic interface, he rejects the human world around him, and tries to embrace himself with technology.

Dale’s odd relationship with the world around him cannot be entirely placed on himself. His mother died when he was a baby, and whether his father neglected him specifically due to this matronly lack is unclear. Charlie O’Quirky was a Vietnamese literary scholar who sought and gained political asylum in the United States when the Vietnam War broke out. Dale was subjected to Charlie’s love of books, but with a tyrannical disregard toward any acceptability when Dale made any mistakes. Dale commonly had to state Shakespeare’s plays in chronological order, read the entire bibliography of Thomas Mann for a job during one high school summer, etc.

Dale rebelled against intellectualism the best he could, entering the police academy in lieu of pursuing a full education. But Dale grew into a sickly man as he aged, steadily gaining a sickly pallor, having an aversion to milk, etc. In order to pass the time during one of his many sick days, Dale tried to play a game of Pong, and an infatuation with technology was born.

Dale never married, and never seriously pursuing a relationship other than a few stray liaisons with prostitutes that had been arrested, he drew ever inward into his electronic shell as more electronic products became available.

This momentary glimpse into Dale’s life demonstrates the mental strain that so much electronic dependence has placed on his ability to maintain a lifestyle that could be defined as “normal”.

Jason Luna: Published in geekspeakmagazine.com

2011-07-25T22:39:00.000-07:00

www.geekspeakmagazine.com

Me, Jason Luna. I'm the author the "Falling Skies" reviews under TV, and I'm in the special piece about Harry Potter.

Read it, tell your friends to read it, then give me a job!

RetroView: Planet Of The Apes (1968)

2011-07-03T12:49:00.001-07:00

RetroView

by Jason Luna

PLANET OF THE APES (1968)

DIRECTOR

Franklin J. Schnaffer

SCREENWRITERS

Michael Wilson

Rod Serling

BASED ON THE NOVEL BY

Pierre Boulle

STARRING

Charlton Heston as Colonel George Taylor

Robert Gunner as Landon

Jeff Burton as Dodge

Dianne Stanley as Astronaut Stewart (uncredited)

Roddy McDowall as Cornelius

Kim Hunter as Dr. Zira

Maurice Evans as Dr. Zaius- Minister Of Science

Linda Harrison as Nova

THE SYNOPSIS

Four astronauts from Earth (George Taylor, Landon, Dodge, and Stewart) crash on a strange planet where Apes are hyper-intelligent and humans are primitive beings who are captured and lobotomized ‘for their own good’.

George Taylor (Heston) is the only survivor of the crash, and keeps trying to stay alive and escape from his ape-like captivity. He makes two ape friends, Dr. Zira (Kim Hunter) and her fiance, Cornelius (Roddy McDowall).

Taylor, along with his primitive female human cell mate, Nova (Harrison), try to escape with Dr. Zira and Cornelius. But they struggle against an ambush lead by the head of the apes’ “Ministry Of Science”, Dr. Zaius (Evans), the head of the apes’ scientific/religious community.

THE REVIEW

I watched this movie because I want to see the reboot they are doing to the “Planet Of The Apes” franchise later this year (link to trailer at end).

As a result, I am watching all of the original “Planet Of The Apes” movies, having seen the Tim Burton re-make when it came out.

The name I was most excited about when I watched this was co-writer Rod Serling, who is my idol as an aspiring TV/screen writer. And this movie seems to have a lot of the “science fiction with morality” that made “The Twilight Zone”/Rod Serling so famous.

There is a lot of great moral complexity that can be felt from watching the movie, and really had me thinking before the famous conclusion.

George Taylor (Charlton Heston) has this basic, smirking assumption of superiority. After all, he knows he comes from Earth, and these Apes, with their religious applications to science and their propensity to put humans in cells and kill them, seem more primitive than the primitive human beings.

And I won’t spoil the ending, but it in fact spoils the “obvious” superiority felt by Taylor/the audience (probably felt by the latter) throughout the movie, and tries to indict our society as a whole.

But Heston drags the entire movie down with terrible acting. His screaming lines are particularly infamous, but even when he’s talking normally, he seems to equate enunciating syllables pompously with speaking truths that he holds dear.

I guess, in some respects, this movie is admirable for being a precursor to the slightly soulless action movie, with the brash guy killing everything. But it just doesn’t sound good for a viewer to hear Heston is yelling into a void of sound about DIRTY APES!!!

The “titular” planet is localized through plot device saying that “The Ancient Scrolls” (the religious text that defines the planet’s “Ministry Of Science”) have declared a large segment of the planet uninhabitable. And the sets do look pretty good, especially all of those interior shots of caves with the cells and subsequent trials for humans.

There are some decent aspects to Schnaffer’s direction. Taylor (Heston) is looking out of the shuttle’s window, and there are all of these beautiful celestial objects to be seen. And when the three male survivors (with Stewart (Dianne Stanley) having died in suspended animation) get their clothes taken away as they are ambushed, there were all of these slick canted angles, mirroring the confusion of the astronauts.

But once it became an action movie, that’s when Schnaffner seemed unable to get control of the movie. George Taylor seems to be constantly fighting people or running, and it gets extremely tedious.

And while the last scene of the movie was extremely thought provoking and interesting, the iconic last few shots of the movie seem to create distance between the movie and the viewer.

There is definitely some commentary with the final scene’s intentional sense of distance. But they should have made the movie shorter, or used more dialogue instead of fight scenes. Then it would’ve been one of the great examples of being able to use science fiction to convey a message, kind of like “The Twilight Zone”.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=EbCoDf44oCE

I'm Poetica (Part 3)

2011-06-14T14:27:00.000-07:00

The end

only Beginnings

Have you read George Herbert?

I haven't.

Not in the sense-itive way.

He sees a page, I see a template.

Word on Pages, Pages on Word.

Peter

And

Larry

Death

Relate

Matter

Endlessly

There is no decision, but make one

I'm Poetica (Part 2 of 3)

2011-06-14T14:25:00.000-07:00

the bible

Words

Numbers

Books

Pages

Fine Print

Cover To Cover

Can't Buy Another

One Volume For ALL

He may be there

But he will never share

What?

No know

Heart and Brain

Matter and Flesh

The rain

Down a cheek, but I can't chose.

I'm Poetica: (Part 1 of 3)

2011-06-14T14:22:00.000-07:00

Don't knock ringing

I can hear

But I know

A ring in the ear isn't natural

My thumb aches

A scratch

Two more in vain

I'm not rich

But I feel something.

Jason Luna Goes To The Movies (2011)

2011-06-05T23:22:00.000-07:00

First of all, there are a lot of movies that I probably won't catch in theaters. This is a list of things I'm seeing, so other people can go with me, or take the Jason Luna in their lives.

We all have one, I have a really realistic one!

Here is the list of movies I am seeing, on a weekend to weekend basis (every Friday):

June 10th: "Super 8"

Super Awesome!

June 17th: "Green Lantern"

Looks horrific

June 24: "Bad Teacher" and "Cars 2" (Preceded by "Cars")

This could be a "Bad Weekend" (but the teacher movie seems decent)

July 1st:

"Larry Crowne"

Looks ok, and not seeing "Transformers 3" could make this the most pleasant (or most annoyingly loud) theatrical event of the year.

July 8th:

"Horrible Bosses"

My birthday is the 7th of July, and this movie looks awesome!

July 15:

"Winnie The Pooh"

I'm as confused as you are.

June 22:

"Captain America: The First Avenger"

Yay! Marvel Studios stuff!

July 29:

"Crazy, Stupid, Love"

Although the inevitable appeal of "Smurfs" and "Cowboys Versus Aliens" could make this a "crazy stupid" weekend.

August 5:

"The Rise Of The Planet Of The Apes"

This looks pretty non-Tim Burton. That is good these days.

August 12:

"30 Minutes or Less", "The Help", and "Glee! Live 3D!"

The most eclectic weekend I can think of. Wacky action comedy, drama that is probably already disappointing my "Far From Heaven" radar, and then those kids who sing songs I like.

August 19:

"Fright Night", "Conan The Barbarian", "Spy Kids: All The Time In The World", and "One Day"

"Fright Night" looks awesome, I like the "Conan" character, more kids who spy, and then Anne Hathway in a rom com.

This is a Code Code! We need a new Code for this weekend!

August 26:

"Colombiana"

Luc Besson and something about Colombia. This weekend stinks!

And "Don't Be Afraid Of The Dark" is not helping that fear. At all.

September 2:

"The Debt"

I would rather watch this twice than either "Apollo 18" or some new shark horror thing.

September 9:

If I knew what the "Warrior" was, I would skip "Bucky Larson: Born To Be A Star". We shall see.

September 16:

"Drive", "I Don't Know How She Does It", "Johnny English Reborn" (preceded by "Johnny English")

Albert Brooks, Kelsey Grammer, and Rowan Atkinson. So, um...yeah.

September 23:

"Abduction", "Moneyball"

John Singleton vs. Aaron Sorkin about sports? Very unexcited.

September 30:

"50/50"

This is something that seems like a 60/40, no....

October 7:

"Real Steel", "Wanderlust"

Boxing robots and David Wain. I'd still take the robot in a fight.

October 14:

"The Big Year", "Footloose", "The Thing", "The Three Muskeeters"

Kind of like a part at Kenny Loggins house circa 1985! Yowzah!

October 21:

"Contagion"

Although I really think nothing bad is going to happen to those people in "Paranormal Activity 3".

Don't knock on wood, Jason! It doesn't do anything with luck except...what was that?!!!!

October 28:

"The Rum Diary"

This sounds like a boring weekend already.

November 4:

"Harold and Kumar 3D Christmas", "Tower Heist", and MAYBE "Puss In Boots" (with the last two Shrek films marathon)

This is going to end the year, kind of like Christmas....at Brett Rattner's house.

November 11:

"Immortals"

Don't worry about seeing this. It looks stupid.

November 18:

"Tinker, Tailor, Soldier, Spy"

Let the tweens go see "Twilight", let the little kids see "Happy Feet 2", and then go to the bar instead.

November 23 (Wednesday):

"The Muppets", "Hugo Cabret", "Arthur Christmas"

Muppets, Scorcese, and then something called "Arthur Christmas"?

December 9:

"New Year's Eve", "The Sitter"

Those titles just fire the imagination.

December 16:

"Mission: Impossible Ghost Protocol" (preceded by MI: 3), "Sherlock Holmes: A Game Of Shadows", "Alvin and The Chipmunks: Chipwrecked"

Yes, I kind of liked the first "Alvin" movie, and the next one was a little better. Leave me alone, Dave!

December 23:

"GIRL WITH A DRAGON TATOO!" (preceded by the last two original movies), "The Adventures of Tin Tin", "We Bought A Zoo", "The Darkest Hour"

If you haven't seen the trailer for the American "GWADT!", it is sensational. And then movies that I haven't seen previews for yet.

December 28:

"War Horse"

The year ends with Spielberg. Typical.

That was a long list!

Trivia Joke (but it is basically universal, like trivia)

2011-05-24T09:02:00.000-07:00

Fixed matches, something called "holy sh**", I really don't want to come to Whistle Stop.

Who needs 280 dollars any...any....the best things in life are in fact not...na....na...

When's the next game?!

My personal Rapture playlist

2011-05-24T08:05:00.001-07:00

Ever Fallen In Love?- The Buzzcocks
I Will Follow- U2
Jeopardy- Greg Kihn
Heaven- Talking Heads

Post-Rapture Appeal:

Don't Pass Me By- The Beatles

Back-Up Plan:

Shake Your Rump- The Beastie Boys

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=BptQHAW2T5M

The Beastie Boys will be the new gods.

They sound like animal spirits anyway.

Get Manohla Dargis and A.O. Scott on Saturday Night Live!

2011-05-14T21:46:00.001-07:00

http://www.facebook.com/pages/Encourage-Manohla-Dargis-and-AO-Scott-to-co-host-Saturday-Night-Live/123483027732564?v=wall

This should link to my ill-fated facebook campaign to get my two favorite NY Times critics to host my favorite NY themed live sketch comedy show.

"Bridesmaids" review

2011-05-14T21:19:00.000-07:00

BRIDESMAIDS (2011)

The Logistics:

Director-Paul Feig

Screenwriters- Annie Mumolo and Kristen Wiig

Starring- Annie Walker (Kristen Wiig), Lillian Donovan (Maya Rudolph), Helen Harris (Rose Byrne), and many more

And this review is dedicated to Jill Clayburgh, who played Annie's mother, who died of leukemia in November 2010.

The Plot: Lillian is getting married. Annie, her best friend and failed baker, and Helen, Lillian’s elitist socialite friend, enter a heated battle to have control over Lillian’s bridal shower and wedding, in their titular occupations.

The Review: Wow!

Let me say that SNL women do it better.

I’m talking about making movies, of course. More or less all of the “SNL films”, as well as Will Ferrell, could learn a lesson from this movie.

The advertising campaign for this movie really undersold it, but it is my early pick for movie of the year.

While I am admittedly not an aficionado of the chick flick, this was the most transcendent movie in the genre, at least in recent memory.

The movie has a great pace and rhythm to it.

Wiig’s performance as Annie may seem at first to allow for certain moments of what I personally find most grating about her SNL characters. It’s hard to describe, but she tends to talk in a soft voice while saying nonsense things, or singing, etc.

But the humor and the dramatic plot merge almost instantly, and the inane humor always has a dramatic note to it.

The opening scene has this kind of tension in it. Annie and Ted (John Hamm), her sex obsessed “boyfriend” (at one point he calls her his “f*** buddy”) are having, well, sex, and she has this very effective restraint as she fakes pleasure while expressing fatigue and disgust at being so desperate and alone, during very bizarre and funny sexual positions.

This kind of analysis comes in retrospect, and this is the rare “rom com” that makes you think after you see it.

I recommend a repeated viewing. This seems especially crucial for the funniest “bad food vomit” joke I’ve ever seen, and which was partially ruined for me by the squeamish anticipation during an ill-fated lunch and bridal outfit shopping trip.

Speaking of wedding preparation, another surprisingly effective thing for me was the ensemble cast (i.e. it’s called “Bridesmaids”, not “The Bridesmaid”).

Aside from the aforementioned leads of Wiig and Byrne, the ‘maids consist of Becca (Ellie Kemper), Megan (Melissa McCarthy), and Rita (Wendi McLendon-Covey). This kind of ensemble cast method reminds me a lot of “Steel Magnolias”, but instead of the idea of everyone contributing to everything across their whole lives, these are people thrown together by random chance, and they learn things about each other along the way.

Feig, who I only know as the creator of “Freaks and Geeks” and as a fun interview persona on VH1 and the like, was a pleasant surprise to learn during the end credits.

The camera work is seamless, and I can’t be sure who worked on the sound track, but “Rip Her To Shreds” by Blondie as the theme song was a great song choice and captured the essence of the movie (and reminded me of Tina Fey’s “Baby Mama” using “Stay Up Late” by the Talking Heads. The song choice for “Mama” was a little on the nose, but the Talking Heads are my favorite band of all time, so it was pretty awesome on Fey’s part.)

But the star, both by billing and performance, is Annie (Wiig). Through some beautifully poignant shots, we see her lament and frustration wash across her face when she is not saying anything. An early scene of her eating a cupcake, knowing that she may never get to eat one as a bride was just the beginning of an Oscar worthy performance (and her co-writing credit on the screenplay wouldn’t hurt that campaign).

The conventions are there, and the ending is formulaic, but this is the “getting there is rewarding” ride I’ve been waiting for.

Annie meets Officer Nathan Rhodes (Chris O’Dowd), a cop and generally nice guy who Annie rejects because she’s so used to being in meaningless relationships. O’Dowd gives a limited, albeit convincing, nice guy portrayal, but it works as a strong counterpoint to Ted’s stupidity.

And it also points out the tortured futility of Annie’s adult life up until this point. This effectiveness is proven, I think, by the lack of any deprecating back story, montage, etc.

Even the obvious rich vs. poor/evil vs. good rivalry between Helen and Annie never allows any kind of caving in that allows the audience to know that there is actually malice behind Helen’s intentions. The two combatants make amends, during a very bittersweet moment that is preceded by one of the funniest driving montages I have ever seen. (Feig can win an Oscar too, I’m in a giving mood).

And the movie is full of great comedic surprises. What especially comes to mind are Annie’s British sibling roommates (Matt Lucas and Rebel Wilson), and Helen’s resentful step children.

The ending sequence has the typical “call back” to an earlier scene, but the happiness on the faces of all of the characters seems well deserved, and I was generally happy for Annie, when, well, you know.

And Clayburgh, who I had a hard time recognizing, gives an honest yet brilliantly funny performance as Annie’s mother (and AA member who has never drank before), reminiscent of her first season stint as host of SN(L).

The saddest goodbye is the one you never had a chance to contemplate.

The Final Opinion: Watch it now, so you can feel cool when people refer to it constantly for many years into the future.

P.S. I did not read the full interview until writing mine, but Manohla Dargis wrote a similarly glowing review of the movie.

You can find a link to my petition to have Dargis and A.O. Scott (why not, or should I say “why nott”?) co-host SNL after tonight’s episode of the show (Ed Helms and Paul Simon (yay, Paul Simon!)) on...

jasonlunaquiz.blogspot.com

The site is called “NBS’s Saturday Night Trivia”, with the NBS standing for “Not Bob Saget”.

It’s my homage to the first season of Saturday Night (Live), and simultaneously an attempt to write a quiz to start a career for that guy who won 1 million dollars on “1 vs. 100”. (Me!)

So enjoy the actual show, and then "play" the second quiz (it's a blog, so you get the questions and I don't keep score), sign the petition, and thank me later.

-Jason

"Fast Five" review

2011-05-13T23:36:00.001-07:00

FAST FIVE

The Plot: Dominic Toretto (Vin Diesel), Brian O’Conner (Paul Walker), and Mia Toretto(Jordana Brewster) are criminals who drive fast cars. They go to Brazil, and then more stuff happens, with a lot of fast cars, and stick it to the feds, led by Luke Dobbs (Dwayne “The Rock” Johnson).

The Review: “Fast Five” was difficult for me to watch for a variety of reasons, including its failure as what I would term as “standard action genre fare”.

I think the beginning of the film helps to introduce the problems of the movie as a whole:

Right after the movie begins, Paul and Jordana use their cars in order to free Vin from a prison bus. The driving seems realistic, but at the same time the cars seem to make awkward motions, weave aimlessly, etc.

The end result is that Paul stops right in front of the bus, and then the bus collides with his car, and literally does MULTIPLE somersaults in the air before hitting the ground. With no damage to the “Walker-Mobile”.

I am not making any judgments about the audience for such a movie, but this sequence is pretty stupid.

The action sequences in general are poorly designed in general, and the typical “pay-off” (by action movie standards) is pretty lame.

There is one of the strangest scenes in the movie which involves Walker and Diesel falling off of a really high bridge. You know they should die, and even when they don’t, it takes a really long time to get there.

Another example is in the middle of the film, when, after stealing some cars to help with their mission, they all decide to have a drag race. Sounds fun, but it ends with nothing happening, except for the race ending.

And this entire heist process is preceded by one of the most unintentionally funny lines in a movie I’ve ever seen:

Man: We need invisible cars or something.

Vin: I think I know where to get some. Come on, let’s go for a ride.

You may think the context or what happens after this line makes this justified, but it doesn’t.

Speaking of cars, the movie is really focused on criminals not just driving cars, but talking about cars. The “lovable anti-heroes” and the “police” take cars apart, the “big score” doesn’t just involve a lot of car related surprises, but extensive talking about the score, etc.

I found myself relating to the corrupt police over the lovable criminals, not because of the whole “criminals aren’t heroes thing” (I’ve seen enough action movies to be prepared to this dilemma), but mostly because of Dwayne “The Rock” Johnson’s decent performance. I liked him in “Southland Tales” (which is close to being worse than this), but he just gives a very good, solid performance.

He’s about it in terms of quality acting. Vin is a train wreck. He talks slow, with long pauses that weren’t edited out.

At one point, during a dramatic dialogue between Diesel and Walker, Diesel says the word “father” as “fadder”.

The worst travesty is Jordana. She just doesn’t get to talk very much, but I never sensed she couldn’t act or anything. She seems like an afterthought.

And a crazy twist you’d never see coming removes her from the action entirely (hint: she’s a woman, and she has sex).

Speaking of the “gang” (and after-thoughts), there are a bunch of people who get signed up to help with the “big score”. Tej Parker (Ludacris) is a technology expert, Roman Pearce (Tyrese Gibson) is a “fast talker” who talks slower than Ludacris, there’s a Brazilian, an Asian, etc.

The movie ends like a typical action movie, except that it took 130 minutes (according to IMDB) to get there.

The Final Opinion: This movie seems like it fits the genre, but it’s still unwatchable. I really think this will win a “Golden Raspberry Award” of some kind. That’s my pre award season pick.

"Bob Saget" and "Larry Craig" on the first "NBS's Saturday Night Trivia" quiz

2011-05-08T00:57:00.001-07:00

NBS'S Saturday Night Trivia has it's first quiz

jasonlunaquiz.blogspot.com

"Ch-Check It Out", when you can.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=0i1iGa96GYM

Thanks to "The Beastie Boys" and "Late Night With David Letterman", the lawsuit would be an honor.

-Jason

The Contest Is Over (And Guess Who Won)

2011-05-06T20:59:00.000-07:00

NBS's Saturday Night Trivia

That's the name of the trivia site, and I named it.

There's a post that addresses the quiz a little bit, but when I post on May 7th, I'll give a very brief briefing on the trivia format.

Jason Luna Trivia Blog Naming Contest

2011-05-05T15:16:00.001-07:00

I need a name for a trivia blog that combines "SNL" and "1 vs. 100".

To use a first season "SN(L)" line, "the winners will receive no monetary compensation".

The "No Grudge" Report

2011-05-04T14:31:00.001-07:00

Comedy genre stations on pandora. They have artists now, as well, but I picked 5 comedy stations, all great.

SNL Predicts The Future

2011-05-04T08:36:00.001-07:00

I'm sure "The Simpsons" writers will give credit to early SNL, but Gilda Radner made the "S and M" as "Scrubbing And Mopping" joke in 1975.

The Self-Hating Liberal....Nerd

2011-05-04T08:33:00.001-07:00

My life is worse for knowing about "Star Wars" Day. In a similar vein to the pun, today can be "May the "fourth" time be the charm when you try to convince your ex-girlfriend to have pity sex while making her wear that Leia outfit from 'ROTJ'".

Jason Luna web show idea

2011-05-04T08:25:00.000-07:00

http://www.youtube.com/user/freshhellseries

It's a show about Brent Spiner (Lore and Dr. Khan Noonien Singh on "Star Trek: TNG", and that doctor that became a (literal) puppet of the alien in "Independence Day") trying to re-start his career as a pseudo-celeb and overcome an unstated stigma that ruined his career.

In a similar vein, a couple of weird things inspired an idea:

1. I looked at my youtube vid to retrieve it for a "I can write for you" proposal. There were some comments that I was able to answer, and one of them said "I don't think he's single anymore". I replied, "No, I still am." And I accidentally deleted it because I was deleting something else (that's what actually happened, but I could turn it into an obvious joke).

2. I got my first two twitter mentions. Two different "Anchorman" copycats (who admit they don't have any affiliation with any comedy (sounds like a joke, they're aspiring twitter "project" dudes (?)) both mentioning something about a "corn cob pipe" (?)

So anyway, I'll try writing a first episode (it'll be a few minutes long anyway, and contact people I know who can help).

Smart Jokes Done Smarterer

2011-05-04T07:31:00.001-07:00

A man/woman walks into a bar and tells the bartender, "I have cryptomnesia!"

The bartender says "I've heard that one before".

Jason Luna's self-avoidance terminology system (SATS, which almost sounds like something)

2011-05-04T07:18:00.000-07:00

My life from April 2008 to August 2008, and associated phenomena, will be known as my "blue period". Primarily because red is my favorite color, and I "wasn't myself" (it's true, I'm just avoiding long explanations). Also, it short hands as "bp", so not actually putting oil into bodies of water helps with perspective, as well (for me, mostly).

That's A Fact, Jack!

2011-05-03T16:00:00.000-07:00

(This is a series about intellectualism to the extreme that could create odd solutions. In other words, I will do this one and then forgot I had the idea.)

Even though Freud disputed this example, and no one else really liked his theories anyway, convincing people that smoking is like having a d*** in your mouth would greatly decrease smoking overall. Congressional Republicans would die of emphysema in two weeks, max.

Fast Five is F***ing Terrible (that's an in-joke no one will get)

2011-05-03T14:00:00.000-07:00

Don't worry, conflicted "Rotten Tomatoes" fans, "Fast Five" was still an unwatchable train-wreck. A "review/list of (mostly logical) inconsistencies/suggestions for alternatives to this drivel" coming soon.

Here's a spoiler free taste:

Man: We're going to need invisible cars or something.
Vin Diesel: I know just where to find some. Let's go for a ride.

That set-up can only disappoint, and it does.

Good Band That I've Barely Heard Of (Not as bad as it sounds)

2011-05-03T09:13:00.000-07:00

The closest to a "mainstream rock" find I'll ever encounter.

A one album rock band. This song is the best, but they have a very cool aesthetic.

And the description gives away the two main dudes, but I recommend both of their "famous" 80's stuff if you don't already know it. (I can tell you if you don't know).

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=BpWCS-iFeDg

SNL Predicting The Future

2011-05-02T10:52:00.000-07:00

I've seen a lot of these, but the first one that inspired the post:

A DNA match confirms Osama bin Laden was killed, a senior administration official tells CNN.

Reminds me a lot of the Chevy Chase joke from Weekend Update that was first told as "Francisco Franco is still dead."

Billy Preston showing his range

2011-05-01T11:21:00.001-07:00

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=_aa3ylmxnLM

Mostly for Beatles aficionados, but still interesting.

Jason Luna defends rap against generic criticism (kind of)

2011-04-29T11:46:00.000-07:00

(Context: I'm not going to drop any names, but a person who likes rock and roll tried to explain why rap is bad. I composed this as a response, but didn't want to start an argument. It should be fairly clear what the criticisms are.

I still like the person/podcast who argued with me, by the way.)

I understand the general criticism, but in certain cases rappers do play instruments (most famously, the Beastie Boys).

"Sampling" is a method of appropriation that can be done artistically, and is used in other art forms.

Violence in rap and violence in rock are similar, in that violence is in lyrics, and isn't bad either way. Less violence in rock is primarily due to a deeper back catalog, although the history of rap is fairly non-violent in lyrical content as a whole.

Rap that doesn't primarily use violence in its content/promote violence:

Beastie Boys
Kanye West
Run-D.M.C.
Public Enemy

There are a lot of undercurrents in rap that aren't violent throughout its comparatively brief history, but I listed famous acts that I genuinely like.

Best Songs Ever Series (By Artist): Electric Light Orchestra (corrected)

2011-03-07T17:51:00.000-08:00

Mr. Blue Sky

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=H2Ncxw1xfck

Runners-up:
1. Sweet Talking Woman
2. Evil Woman
3. Turn To Stone
4. Livin' Thing
5. Don't Bring Me Down
6. Telephone Line
7. Strange Magic
etc., all their hits

Anarchist's Song (Part 1): The Third Edit

2011-03-02T23:11:00.000-08:00

ANARCHIST’S SONG: Part 1

By Jason Luna

Our tale begins in The Hipster A Go Go, a retro biker bar. It used to be a baby boomer bar where people could see go go dancers dancing in gilded cages. And then, a couple of months ago, it became a bar for 60 somethings who tried to relive their non-existent ‘wild days’ as motorcyclists by looking at pictures of women wearing thigh high boots, as the people in the bar couldn’t see very well. (And at some point in between it was an S&M parlor masquerading as a laundromat).

On a small stage with dimmed light, an old man stood in front of a microphone. He could see all 12 people sitting on folding chairs in front of the stage. He could see a go go cage that was taken down from its perch and was being used as storage for a smaller go go cage. With these surroundings, and a pasty faced college student playing bongos in the background, the old man started:

“I shiver and give shivers. I weave and give part-weaves. I am the barber. The barber of life. Seville and civil. I bat and give bats. I am a sex and I have sex. A male getting the mail. I dance and give dance. Lessons that is.”

This is man of the poem, Artis Smith, the black friend of one Connor Devlin, man of shalom (not sure if Connor knows what that word means). Artis was 60 years old and had a mole on his lip that reminded Connor of Cindy Crawford. He worked various jobs until he had a mid-life crisis at 40, and decided to pursue a career in the arts. Yeah, he’s been working on this kind of stuff for 20 years, and it shows. Shows something, at least.

Is Connor a racist simply for having one black friend? In a word no. It’s not the racial wars that interest Connor. It’s the wars of the mind. And he wins those wars. In his mind.

Who does Connor Devlin vote for? He doesn’t. 24 years of age, with golden blonde hair and a body that people would die for, such as his childhood pet sea monkey. Ok, he had a little bit of a paunch, but who doesn’t? And he had a five o clock shadow, which looked kind of bad for a person with blond hair. But on the plus side, he had all of his teeth, and he averaged about .7 showers per day. And, if you think about, with his weight issues, he was literally on the plus side. And let’s just say...Hold on, Artis is talking again:

“Black and white is right. No room for Caucasians of the caucuses or Afro-American of their country. I call it Afroamerica. Or maybe Negro China.Yellow and black, like a bumblebee. The cotton fields, tended to by people who work for free. Die chrysanthemum die! Die the death of the unused word. Ya heard the reckoning of the bells? Because I haven’t, and I’d really like to know what that feels like. I’m out!”

A mild smattering of applause, led by our hero, Connor Devlin. Do I say his name too much? Impossible! He approaches the stage with intellect and a need to go to the bathroom. But he’ll hold it, and hold it well. He helps the old Artis off of the stage.

“Excellent job.” Connor said.

“You think so?” Artis said. “I really try, and it’s good to know that someone out there can see that. Want to get a maple syrup milk shake?”

“Nope. I’ve got an important meeting to attend.”

What he really had to do was go on a date. But he didn’t want Artis to wish him luck, because he didn’t want to be jinxed (he assumed the word meant having to drink gin, and that made him gassy).

Her name was Mary Mackenzie. What Connor could decipher from what he heard about her was that she was easy.

Roughly 20 minutes later, Connor was sitting in a capitalist den of iniquity, otherwise known as a Burger King. Seriously, what was the kingdom that this burger man saw as his own? Was there also a burger line of ascension, with a Burger Prince, a Burger Princess? Was the Whopper the nickname for the Earl of Sandwich?

But this girl was immensely beautiful. First off, there were her breasts. They were big, but not too big (he had never encountered the problem of breasts being too big, but he assumed that it was a possibility). Then there was her beautiful mind.

He wondered to himself, “What is it like between the lobes of her boobs, I mean brains!”

He knew they were meant to be together, because she knew he was her blind date just by looking at him. Or Connor might have waved and yelled her name.

“Hi,” she said as she sat down.

“Hi,” Connor suggestively suggested.

“How are you?” she asked.

“How am I? How are you doing, Beautiful?”

“I’m doing fine, I guess. The only thing is that it’s cold outside, and I forgot my jacket.”

“I’d offer you mine, but I think it’s too big for you.” Connor said.

“Is that the only thing that’s big on you?”

Connor couldn’t believe it! 3 seconds of talking and she was already making allusions to his penis. Or maybe she was alluding to his brain. Either way, he was sure he wouldn’t disappoint. Connor Devlin doesn’t do anything small. Except for midgets. He kind of had a fetish for that. Any who....

He was starting to wonder if Mary could really be the pelican to his stock broker. Or something. He couldn’t really think straight with a girl this pretty and dirty.

Oh, shit! He had to think of something to say back, otherwise there would be an awkward pause in the conversation. He racked his brain, trying to conjure up a witticism that would please her.

“The biggest part of me is my heart.” he said.

“Are you usually this cliched?” she asked.

“That’s not really a cliche-” Connor started.

“That’s sweet,” Mary interrupted. “Now, let’s get down to business. Do you have a job?”

“Why do you ask that?”

“Because I’m not dating any unemployed loser, that’s why.”

“Yes, I have a job.” Connor said.

“Well, what is it?” Mary asked.

Another awkward pause. The reason for this was that Connor didn’t have a job. At least not a job with a paycheck, or a schedule, or coworkers, or an office. Technicalities can be a bitch. And like Anne Murray put it, “I got 99 problems but a bitch ain’t one”.

“I’m a professor. That’s right, a college professor.” Connor said.

“Where do you teach?” she asked.

“I teach at the local college.”

“Which college is that?”

“The...local-est one.”

“What do you teach?”

“Music.” Connor said.

“What’s your specialty?”

“An-” Connor started.

Before this goes any further, let’s clear one thing up. Despite of all the events that took place after this, all Connor was trying to say was “Anne Murray”. Now, let’s see what Mary interrupted him with:

“You’re a musical anarchist?” she asked.

“What on Earth is a musical anarchist?”

“That’s too bad-” Mary started.

“What I meant to say,” Connor interrupted, “was that I’m not just an Earth-bound musical anarchist. I plan on using anarchistic music throughout the universe.”

“Wow, that’s cool.” Mary said,”My only experience with musical anarchy is being a big fan of ‘Anarchy in the U.K’. by the Sex Pistols. Do you listen to them?”

“Do I? They’re only my favorite band!” He was really starting to feel like a fool with all this lying. In reality, his favorite band was the package of band-aids in his medicine chest. He didn’t really listen to music.

“So, what does a musical anarchist do?”

“Mostly the same things as everyone else. We eat, we sleep, we do crossword puzzles every Sunday morning. And oh yeah, we try to permanently dismantle the government...with music.”

“Do you ever get violent?”

“Not really.”

“That’s a shame. Violence really turns me on.” Mary said.

“I’m actually very violent. In the sack!” Connor said.

That’s not what Connor said. You see, Connor was far too dignified to lower himself to those kind of sexual standards. This demeaning idea came to his mind, but he rejected it. What he said was:

“How about we get some food? Or would you rather me eat you?”

“That’s disgusting!” Mary said. “Eating at a Burger King? What were you thinking?”

“I’m sorry. But back to the sex. How do I put this delicately...will you take me to fucky-town?”

“That’s for me to know and you to find out.” Mary said. “And by that I mean, I know I’m not having sex with you, and you’re finding that out right now.”

“Aha! So now you’re the one using cliches.”

“Seriously, Connor, who says ‘aha’ these days?”

“Not me! I was simply testing your ability to...uh, locate cliches. You passed. Now we can have sex.”

“I just told you I’m not having sex with you. And while testing me is kind of a turn-on, it isn’t enough to turn me from “off” to “getting off”. You can’t make me go from “not doing it” to “doing it”. It’s impossible for me to go from “friends” to “friends with benefits”.

“Ok,” Connor said, “I get it.”

“It’s just not going to go from “inactive” to “active”. I’m not going from “Goofy” to “Donald Duck”. I’m not-”

“Enough!” Connor interrupted. “Wait a minute. “Goofy” to “Donald Duck”?”

“Donald Duck doesn’t wear any pants.” Mary said.

“Look, I may not have much experience when it comes to the eroticism of cartoon characters, but I’m willing to learn.”

“Well, here’s something you probably have plenty of experience in. Go fuck yourself!” Mary said as she turned to walk out of the King.

“I’d rather fuck you.”

“Kiss me, you danged fool.” Mary said.

Ok, Mary didn’t say that. She said it with her eyes. And with her butt as she was walking out the door. And then Connor imagined her saying it whilst au natural. And by au natural, Connor thought that meant eating a veggie burger while petting a squirrel under a pine tree.

Connor’s tear ducts spontaneously combusted while he lay in his bed, the condition finally containing itself when he fell into a dream-like state. He didn’t really fall into it, it was more like he attacked it like the Germans attacked Canada during the Six Day War.

The next day came and went, as Connor tried to work on his manifesto for anarchical, musical government. All he could come up with was the brilliant title, “Anarchist’s Music-Festo”. His second place choice was “Getting Some Can In Canada.” His third place choice was “Mary Mackenzie, Please Give Me A Blow-Job”.

He also destroyed his copy of Mary’s telephone number. He only memorized it so he would know to stay away from it if he saw it again.

The next day, feeling better, he decided to pay his friend Artis a visit. Despite the age difference and the difference in hue of skin, he felt that they had come to the point that Artis was his best friend.

There was a slight problem. When he got to Artis’s apartment (opening the apartment door with a spare key Artis gave him), he found Artis sprawled out over his desk, dead. Under Artis’s cold hands was what appeared to be a manuscript. The title page read: “The Meaning Of Life: My Life of Strife (Mostly Caused By My Second Female Spouse)”.

Connor did the best thing he could do to honor the poetic biography of a dead friend. He skipped to the last page. The last line of the epic poem read “One Last Thing To Say Before Death’s Trip...”

That reminded Connor. The local strip club was going to open in six hours. He ran out of the apartment, not having enough time to call the paramedics or Artis’s family.

Upon arriving at home, he found a package upon his doorstep. Since his pornography didn’t arrive until later in the month, he was at a loss as to what it could be.

What he found upon opening the package was a piece of paper. And guess what was written on that paper. Words. It read:

“Dear Connor Devlin,

My friend Mary told me that you were a musical anarchist. Who am I? How did I know where to find you? All will be answered in time. But for now, how about we play a game? I call it “Short Story Rorschach Test”. I know you’re not a fiction writer, but I think this will serve as a benefit to the game. I think you will infuse the story with more realistic imagery. Now all I want you to do is write a paragraph with this as your first sentence:

“It turned out he was a robot.”

You will find the address to send the paragraph to on the back of the paper. Good luck and god speed,

Your Friend”

Connor was pleased with this development. Other than the fact that he was offended by the phrase god speed (he didn’t believe in God, and if he did, he figured God couldn’t be very fast, considering how old he was), he was glad that his life finally had some purpose.

Then Connor thought of Artis Smith. He really did love that old man, and was sorry to see him go. He actually did call the authorities and Artis’s family, after he became frustrated during his visit to the strip club (5 dollar drinks? Was the only person in the club Connor Devlin, or was it Richie Rich?). Artis’s mother told Connor to keep Artis in his heart. Connor saw this strange assignment as an opportunity to do just that, to capture the same kind of word play that Artis used in his shows, except with robots. He went over to his computer and started typing:

“It turned out he was a robot. A robot. He wasn’t a non-robot, but a robot. And might I add: Go Bot!”

Satisfied with how this had turned out, he had to figure out how to mail this paragraph to the address in question.

You see, money was a bit tight at the moment, not even allowing for the purchasing of a stamp. What meager earnings he did come across were spent on necessities, such as his satellite TV hook-up.

I know what you’re thinking. ‘Why is Connor so devilishly handsome?’. Or maybe you were thinking ‘How is a TV set a necessity?’ Well, the fact of the matter is that an expensive TV was crucial to Connor’s newfound anarchy/musical agenda. If he was going to produce anarchy, he had to know precisely what kind of people he had to tear down. Plus, it was the only way to watch American pornography. Of course, the only reason he did this was to see the subjugation of women in a firsthand kind of way, so he could be a proper feminist. Or I guess you’d call it secondhand. Either way, both hands were involved.

Back to the issue of sending the paragraph off. He decided that he had to work twice as hard on his manifesto, in the hopes that he could make some money off of its publication. After sitting in front of his computer for awhile (roughly two minutes), he had a better idea. He would steal the money he needed! After remembering that was against the law, he needed a job.

But what field to work in? One of his favorite American novels was “Confederacy of Dunces”, and one of his personal heroes was Ignatius J. Reilly. He remembered that Ignatius had worked in a pants factory and sold hot dogs. The only problem was he didn’t know where to find those jobs. He did remember that there was a help wanted sign in front of a place called ‘Fun N Pizza’. His only hope was that they made special pants for eating pizza. What’s more fun than that?

HOW MUCH FUN DID CONNOR HAVE? STAY TUNED FOR PART 2!

AND TO FIND OUT WHAT BECAME OF THAT ROBOT PARAGRAPH, STAY TUNED FOR THE SHORT STORY, “THE ROBOT CHRONICLES”!

Obscure Songs: Styx

2011-02-26T16:55:00.001-08:00

Styx: Cold War
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=EFmB6sDGCbE

Heavy Metal Poisoning
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=hp2eRYT-xG0

Obscure Songs: Devo

2011-02-26T16:54:00.001-08:00

Devo: Theme From Doctor Detroit
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=s7OemIMKj6s

Blow Up/Some Things Never Change
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=dT86cm2PvUY

Obscure Songs: Siouxsie And The Banshees

2011-02-26T16:53:00.001-08:00

Siouxsie And The Banshees: Dear Prudence
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=3ww-pKVClzU

Kiss Them For Me
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=WjZGdc6k6EQ

Obscure Songs: The B-52s

2011-02-26T16:52:00.001-08:00

The B-52s: Private Idaho
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=n7t7cGwN7_0

6060-842
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=PEt8u33x8SA

Obscure Songs: The Vapors

2011-02-26T16:51:00.001-08:00

The Vapors: Bunkers
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=3tSuEKct8Eg

Jimmie Jones
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=HBJM-fUr81c

Obscure Songs: The Violent Femmes

2011-02-26T16:50:00.003-08:00

The Violent Femmes: Add It Up
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=QHapDS2fcFE

Kiss Off
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=gproa6vzgws

Obscure Songs: The Early Beatles

2011-02-26T16:50:00.001-08:00

The Early Beatles: Anna (Go To Him)
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=DVJwwLcV3KY

Every Little Thing
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=AtD13JTU5H0

Obscure Songs: Squeeze

2011-02-26T16:49:00.000-08:00

Squeeze: Annie Get Your Gun
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=jtCKtHoGHRU

Pulling Mussels
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=3WngGeI9lnA

Obscure Songs: Pete Shelley

2011-02-26T16:48:00.001-08:00

Pete Shelley: Homosapien
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=k3KzwpihR_U

Telephone Operator
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=MA5oz8b3UJM

Obscure Songs: Adam Ant

2011-02-26T16:47:00.000-08:00

Adam Ant/Adam And The Ants: Antmusichttp://www.youtube.com/watch?v=bPjfD8ulnpw

Apollo 9
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=wbdWt3UDXhs

Anarchist's Song (Part 1): The Second Draft

2011-02-13T09:21:00.000-08:00

ANARCHIST’S SONG: Part 1

By Jason Luna

This is man of the poem, Artis Smith, the black friend of one Connor Devlin, man of shalom (not sure if Connor knows what that word means). Artis was 60 years old and had a mole on his lip that reminded Connor of Cindy Crawford. Is Connor a racist simply for having one black friend? In a word no. It’s not the racial wars that interest Connor. It’s the wars of the mind. And he wins those wars. In his mind.

Who does he vote for? He doesn’t. 24 years of age, with golden blonde hair and a body that people would die for, such as his childhood pet sea monkey. And let’s just say...Hold on, Artis is talking again:

“Black and white is right. No room for caucasians of the caucuses or Afro-American of their country. I call it Afroamerica. Or maybe negro China.Yellow and black, like a bumblebee. The cotton fields, tended to by people who work for free. Die chrysanthemum die! Die the death of the unused word. Ya heard the reckoning of the bells? Because I haven’t, and I’d really like to know what that feels like. I’m out!”

“Excellent job.” Connor says.

“You think so?” Artis says. “I really try, and it’s good to know that someone out there can see that. Want to get a maple syrup milk shake?”

“Nope. I’ve got an important meeting to attend.”

What he really had to do was go on a date. But he didn’t want Artis to wish him luck, because he didn’t want to be jinxed (he assumed the word meant having to drink gin, and that made him gassy) .

Her name was Mary Mackenzie. From what Connor had heard about her was that she was easy. He thought of the phrase “easy like sunday morning”, which he came up with all by himself.

Roughly 20 minutes later, Connor was sitting in a capitalist den of iniquity. Otherwise known as a Burger King. Seriously, what was the kingdom that this burger man saw as his own? Was there also a burger line of ascension, with a Burger Prince, a Burger Princess? Was the whopper the nickname for the earl of sandwich?

And then he saw her. Connor had a method of dealing with blind dates. He would imagine them as the most homely, boring girl in the world. This way he would be pleasantly surprised by whatever he saw.

But this girl was immensely beautiful. First off, there were her breasts. Then there was her beautiful mind. He wondered what it would be like to place his head in between the lobes of her boobs, I mean brains. He knew they were meant to be together, because she knew he was her blind date just by looking at him. Or Connor might have waved and yelled her name.

“Hi,” she said as she sat down.

“Hi,” Connor suggestively suggested.

“How are you?” she asked.

“How am I? How are you doing, beautiful?”

“I’m doing fine, I guess. The only thing is that it’s cold outside, and I forgot my jacket.”

“I’d offer you mine, but I think it’s too big for you.”

“Is that the only thing that’s big on you?”

Connor couldn’t believe it! 3 seconds of talking and she was already making allusions to his penis. Or maybe she was alluding to his brain. Either way he was sure he wouldn’t disappoint. Connor Devlin doesn’t do anything small. Except for midgets. He kind of had a fetish for that. Any who....

He really was starting to like her even more than he did at a previous moment of liking her. Or something. He couldn’t really think straight with a girl this pretty and dirty.

Oh, shit! He had to think of something to say back, otherwise there would be an awkward pause in the conversation. He racked his brain back and forth, trying to conjure up a witticism that would please her.

“The biggest part of me is my heart.”

“Are you usually this cliched?” she asked.

“That’s not really a cliche-” Connor started.

“That’s sweet.” Mary interrupted. “Now, let’s get down to business. Do you have a job?”

“Why do you ask that?”

“Because I’m not dating any unemployed loser, that’s why.”

“Yes, I have a job.” Connor said.

“Well, what is your job?” Mary asked.

“I’m a professor. That’s right, a college professor.”

“Where do you teach?” she asked.

“I teach at the local college.”

“Which college is that?”

“The...local-est one.”

“What do you teach?”

“Political Science.” Connor said.

“What’s your specialty?”

“Anarchism in government.”

“You’re an anarchist?”

“No, I’m not an anarchist.”

“That’s too bad-” Mary started.

“What I meant to say,” Connor interrupted, “was that I’m not just an anarchist. I’m the world’s greatest anarchist.

“Wow, that’s cool.” Mary said,”My only experience with anarchy is being a big fan of Anarchy in the U.K. by the Sex Pistols. Do you listen to them?”

“So, what does an anarchist do?”

“Mostly the same things as everyone else. We eat, we sleep, we do crossword puzzles every Sunday morning. And oh yeah, we try to permanently dismantle the government.”

“Do you ever get violent?”

“Not really.”

“That’s a shame. Violence really turns me on.” Mary said.

“I’m actually very violent. In the sack!” Connor said.

That’s not what Connor said. You see, Connor was far too dignified to lower himself to these sexual standards. This demeaning idea came to his mind, but he rejected it. What he said was:

“How about we get some food? Or would you rather me eat you?”

“That’s disgusting!” Mary said. “Eating at a Burger King? What were you thinking?”

“How do I put this delicately? Will you take me to fucky-town?”

“That’s for me to know and you to find out.” Mary said suggestively in a suggestive way.

“Aha! So now you’re the one using cliches.”

“Seriously, Connor, who says aha these days?”

“Not me! I was quoting a lyric from the American band, A-Ha. You know their big hit, I Ran.”

“That’s Flock of Seagulls. And A-Ha isn’t from America. And “I Ran” has nothing to do with cliches.”

“Really? Are you sure? I mean...of course. I was just testing you. Now we can have sex.”

“I’m pretty sure I’m not having sex tonight. But if I am, it’s not going to be with you.”

“Before you go, Mary, let me ask you a simple question. What will it mean for you if you see me again?”

“Look, I-” Mary started. Connor interjected:

“The reason I say this is because we are inexorably linked. You have been in the presence of the foremost anarchistic mind in the North American sub-continent. If you see me, you will tremble and feel more enriched for the experience.”

“Go fuck yourself,” Mary said as she turned to walk out of the King.

“I’d rather fuck you.”

“Kiss me, you danged fool.”

Connor’s tear ducts spontaneously combusted while he lied in a bed, the condition finally containing itself when he fell into a dream-like state. Ok, it wasn’t “dream-like”, it was actually dreaming.

The next day came and went (as he did the night before), as Connor tried to work on his manifesto for anarchical government. All he could come up with was the brilliant title, “Anarchist’s Manifesto”. His second place choice was “Canada: An Anarchist’s Guide To Getting Beaver Like An Eager Beaver.” His third place choice was “Mary Mackenzie, Please Give Me A Blow-Job”.

He also destroyed his copy of Mary’s telephone number. He only memorized it so he would know to stay away from it if he saw it again.

That reminded Connor. The local strip club was going to open in two hours. He ran out of the apartment, not having enough time to call the paramedics or Artis’s family.

Upon arriving at home, he found a package upon his doorstep. Since his pornography didn’t arrive until later in the month, he was at a loss as to what it could possibly be.

What he found upon opening the package was a piece of paper. And guess what was written on that paper. Words. Not even pornographic words. It read:

“Dear Connor Devlin,

I have great respect for your work, or lack thereof. Who am I? How did I know where to find you? All will be answered in time. But for now, how about we play a game? I call it ‘Short Story Rorshach Test’. I know you’re not a fiction writer, but I think this will serve a benefit to the game. I think you will infuse the story with more realistic imagery. Now all I want you to do is write a paragraph with this as your first sentence:

‘It turned out he was a robot.’

You will find the address to send the paragraph to on the back of the paper. Good luck and god speed,

Your Friend”

‘It turned out he was a robot. Not in the literal sense. His brain had become biological hardware, autonomous to the needs of the people.’

Happy with how this had turned out, he had to figure out how to mail this paragraph to the address in question.

You see, money was a bit tight at the moment, not even allowing for the purchasing of a stamp. What meager earnings he did come across were spent on necessities, such as his satellite TV hook-up.

I know what you’re thinking. ‘Why is Connor so devilishly handsome?’. Or maybe you were thinking ‘How is a TV set a necessity?’ Well, the fact of the matter is that an expensive TV was crucial to Connor’s anarchistic agenda. If he was going to produce anarchy, he had to know precisely what kind of people he had to tear down. Plus, it was the only way to catch American pornography. Of course, the only reason he did this was to see the subjugation of women in a first hand kind of way. Or I guess you’d call it second hand. Either way, both hands were involved.

Back to the issue of sending the paragraph off. He decided that he had to work twice as hard on his manifesto, in the hopes that he could make some money off of its publication. After sitting in front of his computer for two whole minutes, he decided that his time would be better spent earning money as part of an undercover investigation of what menial labor was like.

But what field to work in? One of his favorite American novels (although he publicly stated that he only read Canadian ones) was “Confederacy of Dunces”, and one of his personal heroes was Ignatius J. Reilly. He remembered that Ignatius had worked in a pants factory and sold hot dogs. The only problem was he didn’t know where to find those jobs. He did remember that there was a help wanted sign in front of a place called ‘Fun N Pizza’. His only hope was that they made special pants for eating pizza. What’s more fun than that?

HOW MUCH FUN DID CONNOR HAVE? STAY TUNED FOR PART 2!

AND TO FIND OUT WHAT BECAME OF THAT ROBOT PARAGRAPH, STAY TUNED FOR THE SHORT STORY, “THE ROBOT CHRONICLES”!

2011-02-12T10:31:00.000-08:00

three part post

2011-02-12T10:30:00.001-08:00

Jeter

3 part post

2011-02-12T10:29:00.003-08:00

Derek

Marathon Update

2011-02-12T10:29:00.001-08:00

Just walked 7 miles with no hydration.

Facebook Music Update

2011-02-08T13:22:00.001-08:00

Finally got to my favorite band ever: Devo!

More Exciting Facebook News

2011-02-07T11:19:00.000-08:00

I'm going to continue to post obscure stuff until I run out of ideas. Check out my "Siouxsie And The Banshees" post!

Homework Update

2011-02-07T11:17:00.001-08:00

1/2 Done

Homework Update

2011-02-05T15:11:00.001-08:00

1/4 Done

Friday Post

2011-02-04T10:50:00.001-08:00

Usually, people think it's TGIF, but now it's TMH (too much homework).

Homework Update

2011-02-03T10:46:00.000-08:00

This week's homework only has 19 questions (as opposed to 20)!

Tricks A Dead Dog Can Do

2011-02-03T10:45:00.001-08:00

1. Stay
2. Decompose

Random Musing

2011-02-03T10:44:00.001-08:00

I can believe it's not butter.

Good News

2011-01-31T15:21:00.001-08:00

I finished my homework for my one class a week a day ahead of schedule, so I have a day to study it and make corrections!

Apologies For The "Quantum Loser" post

2011-01-31T15:20:00.000-08:00

In order to read every word of the story, go to fanfiction.net and search for "Quantum Loser".

Music On Facebook update

2011-01-29T20:04:00.001-08:00

I've done Pete Shelley, Adam Ant, and now Squeeze.

Quantum Loser (Rated G)

2011-01-28T12:09:00.000-08:00

FanFiction.Net - unleash your imagination mobile edition

B s . A A A

full 3/4 1/2

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Light Dark

TV Shows » Quantum Leap » Quantum Loser

Wilmot Peterson
Author of 1 Story

Rated: K+ - English - Adventure/Angst - Reviews: 1 - Published: 04-23-04 - id:1832370

Quantum Loser
By Jason LunaNot caring whether or not he could travel within his own lifetime, Mr. Malcolm Autobee was shoved into the Quantum Leap Accelerator...and vanished. Now, he finds himself leaping from life to life, facing mirror images that are better than his own. His only guide is Peter Gadsen, a hologram from the future who only bothers Malcolm. Malcolm finds himself putting things
right that he doesn't care about, hoping his next leap will be mildly
interesting...
There he was, lying on a bed. It was a very nice bed; in fact some film noir detective idiot might say it was "a little too nice". But they would be wrong. In Malcolm's opinion, nothing could be too nice for a guy who had gotten the short end of the stick like he had. Raised in a middle- class suburban household, all of Malcolm Autobee's dreams had collapsed due to the mild annoyance everyone seemed to express to him for no apparent reason.
His English degree had gotten him nowhere so he decided to let life lead him where it may. The results weren't as philosophically fulfilling as one might expect. He thought he had at least mildly landed some prestige when he got to clean toilets down at a military installation in New Mexico. He was then told that he couldn't disclose his small victory to his even smaller circle of friends, because he might be exposed to top-secret research.
Might be exposed? How about dragged into it kicking and screaming? He still remembered being called into his CO's office that fateful day.
"How's the toilet cleaning been going?", he asked in a gruff manner.
Oh, how Malcolm desperately wanted to go into a rant about how it was a stupid question to ask because he was cleaning receptacles commonly used for defecation. But since he didn't want to be court- martialed, flogged, or whatever the current vindictive military policy was at the time, he just muttered "Fine."
"Good, good. Look, Jacinto...", the colonel with the dusty white moustache who looked nervous for some bizarre reason began.
"It's Malcolm, sir."
"Gosh darn it, private! Don't correct me," he yelled, showing
much aggravation.
"Sorry sir."
"Now, Jacinto, does time travel interest you?"
"Certainly, sir. I wrote my college thesis on it."
"So is Wednesday good for you?"
"Sir?"
"Do you want to time travel on Wednesday or not?"
Malcolm was at a loss for what to say. He was sure that his
boss was crazy. But then he remembered that there was a WC waiting to
be cleaned with a toothbrush, so he said "Fine."
"All right," the skinny colonel with the aforementioned
moustache replied, and began shuffling through papers on his desk
searchingly. "A little back story. Dr. Sam Beckett invented a process
called Quantum Leaping, wherein a person switches body with a person
throughout time. They were going to cut our funding, so Sam decided to
give it a shot and off he went."
"Wait a minute", Malcolm proclaimed, "You sent a doctor last
time?"
"Yes, what exactly is your point?"
"There weren't any custodians you could force into it?"
"You cracking wise with me, boy?"
"Yes, sir."
"I thought so. To answer your question, our custodians USED to
be valuable."
"Touché, sir."
"Thank you."
"Sir, don't you think Dr. Beckett would be better at giving me
this speech?"
"Um, yeah... Here's the thing. When Dr. Beckett leaped, we
couldn't exactly bring him back."
Before Malcolm could raise a voice of protest, he was escorted
out of the room on the pretense of preparations for the trip. Before he
could bat an eye he was drugged and out like a light. While he was out
for God knows how long, he must've woken up a tiny bit as he overheard
the following conversation at one point in time:
"Why are we going to send another guy through time?" a gruff
voice rang out.
"It's pretty obvious to me," a gruffer voice replied.
"To help mankind twice as much?" Gruff asked.
Malcolm was slightly offended when Gruffer gave a loud laugh.
"Look it," Gruffer expounded, "if we wanted to just help people, don't
you think we'd send in a strapping young Marine, not some fat
custodian?"
"Then why?"
"They shoved his body full of these experimental probes. They
don't care what he does when he leaps; they just want to run some tests
on him while he's doing it."
Malcolm couldn't listen to the rest of this scintillating
conversation, as his narcotics kicked back in and he returned to his
comatose state. He was mildly cognizant while he was being dragged
towards a blue light. Whoever was carrying him dropped him, and he felt
a skinny, dusty-mustached presence standing over him.
"Now let's make this official. Do you, Jacinto Olbrish," a
voice rang out, as Malcolm felt a window of opportunity grow as his
drugs began to wear off," agree to travel through time, even if you are
never to return?"
"It's...Malcolm...Autobee...you son of a..."
"Oh crap," the colonel yelled," he woke up! Let's throw him in
there before he can disagree."
And throw him in they did. Now he was lying in a bed that was
not his own. He got up. There was a gilded mirror on the other side of
this luxurious bedroom. He saw a handsome man in his mid-30s, with
short blond hair and dreamy blue eyes. Gone was his admittedly
corpulent figure, and his unkempt black hair.
While contemplating, he heard a "vhoosh" noise, and turned to
see a man who was not dissimilar from his reflection. He was in his mid-
twenties, with the same blue eyes and blonde hair.
"Hello, Malcolm. My name is Peter Gadsen," the blonde-haired
man stated, clearly attempting to calm Malcolm down. "I'm here to help
you figure things out. But first, I have to ask, do you remember your
last name?"
"Why the heck shouldn't I?"
"You mean, your memory is intact?" Peter seemed shocked.
"Yep. Why do you ask?"
"Well, in the case of..."
"Dr. Beckett?" Malcolm rudely interrupted.
"Yes, in his case, his memory was dashed akin to Swiss
cheese, hence the term "Swiss-cheese brain"."
"Maybe it has something to do with these devices they
crammed into my body," Malcolm said in a tone that rang true of
depression.
"You know about those?" Peter seemed surprised.
"Yes, could you please tell me what they are?"
"Oh, I'm sorry, that's classified. But let's get to your
mission..."
"My what?"
"Your mission, Malcolm. God, randomness of time, or some other
B.S. places a leaper in a situation where he is supposed to help
people."
Malcolm was feeling upset. The same people who had shoved his
body full of experimental devices expected him to help somebody out.
But I guess it wasn't like he had to help the colonel cross the street.
This was a real person, a person who hadn't been exposed to the
bureaucratic torture of a certain New Mexico military establishment. He
certainly couldn't live with himself if an everyday person was in pain.
Taking all of this into account, he formulated the only reasonable
response.
"I must refuse," Malcolm said proudly.
"WHAT?" Peter was fuming.
"Look, I'm rich now. Why should I care about some peon?"
"Because in the original history she ends up living a life of
sadness and..."
"Wait a minute, wait a minute! She lives?"
"Well, yes, but..."
"Tell me, do you know what it is that I would have to do to
turn this girl's life around?"
"Simple. All you have to do is show her some kindness."
"Oh, the irony! You expect me to do something for someone that
no one would ever do for me!"
"That's just vindictive, Malcolm!"
"You're right, it is, but maybe I'm maintaining a balance in
the universe. Did you ever think for one second that the bad things
that happen to people throughout time are planned that way?"
"Look, if you help her, I'm sure she will be kind to you as
well," Peter reasoned.
"No, she'll be kind to this face and the large amounts of cash
I clearly have," Malcolm was fuming. "Now, if you could, by whichever
mechanism you came in, please leave. I want to get dressed and get some
breakfast."
"Fine. I hope you will reconsider," and a door of white light
opened and Peter began to go through it. Malcolm ran at it in an
attempt to follow suit and managed to pass through Peter and the door
and collide with the wall.
Malcolm put on a nice silver robe and went downstairs to eat.
He discovered the man he was inhabiting had a seemingly infinite
metabolism, so he wolfed down a lot of magnificently prepared steak.
After eating for a while he noticed a presence behind him. It turned
out to be a butler with a big red moustache.
"May I get you anything, sir?" the Butler asked with a prim and
proper English accent.
"No, thank you. Um, would you mind if I asked you questions
that I should clearly know and not even bother asking?" Malcolm asked
nervously.
"Not at all, sir. Any request you make I will be more than
pleased to perform, despite any claim of its absurdity."
"What's my name?"
"Your name is Filbert Falconeri."
"How did I make all this cash?"
"You inherited 16 Billion dollars from your oil magnate father,
Phillip Falconer."
"Why does he have a different last name than I do?"
"Master Phillip felt that the name Falconeri was too ethnic, so
he Americanized it. You wanted to show your Italian background, so you
returned it to its origins."
"Yeah, that's great," Malcolm failed in his attempt to hide his
complete disinterest. "What month, day, and year is it?" he added.
"It is August the 17th, in the year 19 and 92."
"Thank you, butler boy, now I think I'll go and watch some TV."
"I'm afraid you can't do that sir. I came in here to inform you
that you must speak to your public about your merger with DEVO Standard
Oil."
"I'm rich. Can't I get out of it?"
"Not when you're dealing with people as rich as Buck Maydew,"
and with that the butler walked out of the room in a dignified manner.
Malcolm went upstairs to change his clothes.
Malcolm was sitting in a chair behind a podium in a spacious
conference room. On his left was his bodyguard, a big guy who didn't
exactly look like the most cultured fellow. And on his right was Buck
Maydew. Buck was in a blue suit and was wearing a straw hat. Buck
leaned over to Malcolm.
"Here's how it's gonna work. I'm gonna give 'em the company
mantra, and then throw it to you for some general Q &A." and with that
Buck took the podium.
"I am glad that Falconeri Oil has decided to honor our company
with this merger. And the people of New York and America at large will
benefit. This is because of the dedicated service of DEVO Oil. Let me
explain the acronym. Developmental, Environmental, Vehicular Oil. Hence
the name DEVO oil. As our motto goes, 'Are we not men? We're more than
that, we are DEVO.' Now I'll throw it over to Filbert Falconeri to
answer any of your questions."
Malcolm took the podium. A man of college age with a goatee and
rose-colored glasses was called upon.
"What do you think about burgeoning gas prices?" the man
queried.
"I think things will probably get worse before they get
better."
A young woman who was dressed in all black and had white makeup
was called upon.
"Do you think this merger will have any positives for the
average person?" she asked in an especially cynical manner.
Malcolm repeated what Peter whispered into his ear:
"Probably not, but you must remain positive in your life,
because the odds are in your favor."
Malcolm felt an odd sense of completeness. After the press
conference ended, he turned around and saw Peter standing there with a
big smile on his face.
"That was her, wasn't it?" he asked in awe.
Peter nodded.
"I thought I wanted to live Filbert's life. And who knows, if
you hadn't intervened, I might've lived happily. But know that I helped
that girl out, I feel good. Peter Gadsen, you are a godsend!"
"You're not so bad yourself."
"What happens now?" Malcolm asked with some curiosity.
"You should leap in a few seconds."
Malcolm waited a few seconds, and nothing happened. Then he
waited a few more. Then a few more. He turned to Peter, who was feeling
quite nervous.
"I don't know what's wrong. You should be gone," Peter
commented as he fished through his pockets. He pulled out what looked
like a connection of multicolored Legos. He took a quick look at it and
then turned ashen white.
"Turns out that such a tiny compliment filled her with such
ecstatic happiness that she accidentally forgot to signal and cut
someone off while changing lanes", Peter said slowly and clearly
agitated.
"She got in car accident?"
"No. But the man she cut off was upset enough to follow her
home and kidnap her. He's going to strangle her to death in 15
minutes."
"Maybe you aren't a godsend, Peter. Can you help me find her?"
"I've got a lock on her right now. If we hurry, we might still
make it."
So, after jumping in his limousine and yelling at his
chauffeur, it was a quick drive over to the girl's apartment.
Malcolm found her on the kitchen tile, with a big strong man
standing over her, attempting to strangle. It was a simple matter of
knocking him out cold. But for a man who in his previous life had been
a fat weakling, maybe the matter wouldn't be so simple. At least he
managed to make him take his hands off her throat by jumping on his
back.
But he didn't do much else as the big man merely got up and
threw him across the room. Big walked over to Malcolm lying on the
floor.
"What are you gonna do?" Big asked menacingly.
Malcolm answered with a swift kick to Big's groin. To Malcolm's
surprise Big didn't even flinch. Malcolm rolled out of the way of an
attempted big stomp, hopped back on his feet, and unleashed a flurry of
useless punches to Big's gut. Peter stepped out of his white door.
"How's it going?" Peter asked.
"How do you think it's going?" Malcolm asked exhaustedly.
"Wut?" Big asked as he lifted his big fists and hammered them
into Malcolm's back, causing him to fall to the floor.
"Do you know Kung Fu?" Peter asked nervously.
"Why would you ask?" Malcolm was barely able to get this out of
his seemingly collapsing lungs.
"Well, SAM knew Kung Fu," Peter said in a condescending tone.
"Enough about Sam!" Malcolm whimpered as he crawled between
Big's legs, over the girl's body, and jumped up to the kitchen counter
in an attempt to find a blunt object. He managed to find a roll of
paper towels.
"You gonna give up?" Big asked in a mocking tone.
"I'm not going to give UP," Malcolm managed to gasp out," but
I'll give you THIS!" and with that Malcolm smashed Big across the face
with the roll. To Malcolm's horror, the roll fell apart and Big was
none the worse.
Big wrapped his large hands around Malcolm's throat and began
to slowly squeeze. Malcolm let out some gasps of air. Peter got closer
so as to hear them.
"Tell...me...about...these...probes," Malcolm managed to get out.
"I can't, it's classified," Peter felt torn for probably the
first time in his life. Big picked up Malcolm by the throat and threw
him clear across the room. He hit a closet door and hurt his back
against the doorknob. He slumped in the corner.
"It's my only shot, Pete. Do you want me to die AND fail my
mission?"
"You're right, Malcolm. I don't know a thing about those probes
but I'll find someone who does." And Peter opened his light door and
ran through it.
"I do want yoo to dye," Big drawled as he began to saunter over
to Malcolm," and there ain't nuthin' yoo kin do about it."
Malcolm was pretty confident that Big was right, until he saw a
chair that was just behind Big. Malcolm quickly crawled under it, gave
it a quick bump that knocked Big slightly off-balance, ran into the
living room section of the apartment and ducked behind the couch.
Big assumed that Malcolm was just running scared. So he moseyed
on over feeling, well, Big about himself. But when he came upon the
couch, he found Malcolm crouched in the attack position.
Malcolm flung himself across Big. Big was shocked for a second,
but he recovered. He merely leaned back against the nearest wall, and
used that momentum to gain enough power to throw Malcolm clear across
the room. Malcolm broke a lamp and slumped in yet another corner.
"Malcolm!" he heard Peter's familiar voice. "Are you still
alive?"
Malcolm let out an affirmative groan.
"I talked to one of the Docs. You won't believe this. He wants
you to think about sheep and punch him in the face. It should knock him
out. It's a quirk in one of the probes in your brain."
By this time Big was almost upon Malcolm, so he had to work
fast.
"Wait a minute! Don't you want to kill me fair and square?"
Malcolm was sure this wouldn't work.
"What do you propoze?" Big was curious.
"Pick me up and put me down right in front of you. I think I
can still stand for a few more seconds. I'll recite a nursery rhyme and
give you one clear punch across the face. After that, we'll continue
wrasslin'."
Big picked Malcolm up and put him down right in front of him.
"Little Bo Peep has lost her sheep," Malcolm began, "And...oh
crap, I don't have time for this!" And with that, Malcolm let loose
with a haymaker to the jaw.
Big staggered and collapsed on the carpet. Malcolm fell with the
forward motion of his punch onto the couch. The girl came running into
the room, heaping kisses upon Malcolm and thanking him for saving her
life.
"I have to make certain you won't remember that piece of advice
I gave you about the sheep punch," and as Peter was phrasing this
sentence he pushed a button on his Lego block and Malcolm felt a slight
twinge in his brain. "Now you'll leap, Malcolm."
And in a few seconds, Malcolm did. He started glowing yellow
with electricity coursing through his body.
"You're supposed to turn bl-"Peter started to shout.
But before Peter could finish his sentence, Malcolm was gone,
and a confused billionaire who couldn't see Petey was in his place.
THE END

Return to Top

Running Out of Ideas to Post About

2011-01-28T11:55:00.000-08:00

If I can, I'll post this really good Quantum Leap fan fic I wrote.

Random Musing

2011-01-28T11:54:00.001-08:00

Pete Shelley and Adam Ant are up on my facebook account.

Big News

2011-01-26T21:33:00.000-08:00

Starting tomorrow, on my facebook account, lasting a week, I will be posting two songs daily from either obscure artists or from the obscure canon of known artists.

Random Musing

2011-01-25T13:26:00.001-08:00

I'm getting a little better at spacing out my homework over the week, but still needs work.

Cash Cab

2011-01-24T10:56:00.002-08:00

Watch it!

Random Musing

2011-01-24T10:56:00.000-08:00

The funniest moment in last week's "30 Rock" was when Liz Lemon said "oui".

Random Musing

2011-01-22T06:33:00.000-08:00

I got three questions during quizbowl practice over the past two weeks on the first clue.

The Robot Chronicles: Part 1 (rough draft)

2011-01-21T13:54:00.000-08:00

THE ROBOT CHRONICLES: PART 1

Sitting on a park bench, except it isn’t a park bench. It’s a window sill, and it’s really uncomfortable. But what a small sacrifice to be made in the quest for truth. But am I really seeking the truth? What if I’m wrong? Then this whole pursuit was in vain.

Of all the letters I sent out, only one came back. It was from the Canadian anarchist I found, Connor Devlin. But all his parameters were wrong. He took the robot thing to be a symbol of a human brain. But it wasn’t a metaphor, it was real, damn it!

He didn’t appear that often, my prey. But he wasn’t really prey, that would make me a hunter. And while this does bear elements of the hunt, I was really an observer, taking notes on a legal pad.

Should I pray to God for guidance? No, He doesn’t need to get involved. This is bad enough, I don’t want zealotry involved. Maybe I should call it an illegal pad, since it’s against the law for a robot to masquerade as a human.

That’s right, I’m a bonafide robot hunter. His name was Peter Orwell. It’s a fairly common thing for a robot to take on the names of famous people. George Orwell’s real name is Eric Blair. And I can’t get laid, what’s up with that?

I sit here for six hours every day, maybe longer. I see him about 12 times during that span. He spends a lot of time outside. Whatever he’s using to cover up his robotic entrails, it must be really effective against sun exposure.

I was married once. Her name is Christine. Can’t remember her maiden name at the moment, but she was a Henderson woman after she married me.

What did he do outside of his house for so long, you ask? I’m not actually sure. I can’t afford binoculars, so all I see is cloudy shapes.

What was my wife like? She was smart, beautiful, and she wore her wedding ring all the time. Near the end, she wouldn’t sleep in the same bed as me.

Have I killed anybody? Not in real life. But I’ve fantasized about killing Peter Orwell. He’s a robot, so it wouldn’t be so bad to shoot him in the head. His core’s made of strong titanium siding though, so it might take a fire to bring him down.

I’m re-reading Connor’s notes. I can’t make any sense out of them. Not exactly good obituary material.

How old am I? I can’t remember at the moment. But I was born 33 years ago. If I only knew my birthday, and what day it was, I could tell you for certain.

Why do I want to write Peter’s obituary? I want the fame, the glory, the free roast beef sandwich at Arby’s. Also, I want to be known as a writer, and not just an observer of robots.

Random Musing

2011-01-20T09:53:00.001-08:00

I'm torn between "Antmusic" and "Apollo 9" as the best Adam Ant song.

Random Musing

2011-01-19T10:09:00.001-08:00

Class once a week is great, except for that day you have it, it's so f'ing long...

Anarchist's Song (Part 3): The First Draft

2011-01-18T10:54:00.000-08:00

ANARCHIST’S SONG: PART 3

Connor was standing on a hill. At the bottom of the hill was Stephen Harper’s winter cabin. Being summer, there was no snow on the hill. There was also no Stephen Harper in the cabin, which was part of Connor’s deal...

A day earlier, Connor Devlin was on his second date with Mary Mackenzie.

“I bet you’re wondering why I went out with you again,” Mary said.

“No,” Connor said,”I’m the greatest man in the universe.”

“Isn’t that a bit of an overstatement?”

“No, it’s an understatement. Think of all the parallel universes that I haven’t taken into account.”

‘Whatever. There’s a specific reason that I went out with you again, and I want you to figure it out.”

“I accept your apology.”

“What?”

“Sorry, I wasn’t listening. I assumed you were asking me to forgive you for walking out on me the last time we went out.”

Mary: That’s part of the puzzle.

Connor: What puzzle?

Mary: Of why I went out with you again. Do you ever listen?

Connor: I always listen. Anyway, there is no puzzle. You just wanted a piece of some Devlin’s food cake.

Mary: It has something to do with your being an anarchist.

Connor: What is it?

Mary: You’re supposed to figure it out!

Connor: Well, I guess, you want to network with some of my contacts at the university.

Mary: I went to every university in the greater Toronto area. You don’t teach at any of them.

Connor: I am a teacher, you know. A teacher of life. My students are everyone I come into contact with.

Mary: Whatever.

Connor: I think you want me to do something for you.

Mary: You’re right, I guess. But it’s so fucking vague.

Connor: Is it sexual?

Mary: No.

Connor: As long as it’s not violent, I’m open to anything.

Mary: Come on, Connor. Don’t you just feel like getting out of your comfort zone and blowing something up?

Connor: No, that’s terrible. There’s no way I could ever consider it.

Mary: What if I kissed you for it?

Connor: What do you want me to blow up?

Mary: Just a cabin in the middle of nowhere.

Connor: Will there be anyone in it?

Mary: No.

Connor: It’s a deal.

So, did Connor actually go through with it? It’s hard to tell, because the plan went awry. Instead of blowing up the cabin, Connor blew himself up. It’s not clear whether this was an accident, wherein his intentions were against Harper’s cabin, or if it was an intentional way of getting out of his commitment.

After Connor’s charred remains were buried, Mary kissed his tombstone. At least, Connor assumed that she did.

THE END

P.S. If you’re wondering whatever came of that robotic paragraph that Connor wrote, stay tuned for the story “Robot Chronicles”, coming soon.

Anarchist's Song (Part 2): The First Draft

2011-01-18T10:52:00.000-08:00

ANARCHIST’S SONG: PART 2

By Jason Luna

There was a cornucopia of banners, mostly repeats of what must have been successful slogans. They all had the restaurant’s logo on them, and they used all of the colors of the rainbow. Doug’s desk had a signed baseball on it, but otherwise looked oddly similar to Connor’s desk at home.

“I know what you’re thinking,” Doug said.

“You do?” Connor asked. He worried that Doug knew of his plan to work there for only two weeks, and then, as he wrote on his blog, be “Done N Pizza”.

‘“You’re thinking about how I got this sweet signed baseball.

“Oh, right. Of course I was.”

“Well, I’ll tell you. I was on a trip to San Francisco, to see the sights and soak in some culture, when who did I run into but Barry Bonds. Luckily, I had a baseball for my nephew, so I had Barry sign it. What luck, huh?”

“Yes, good luck indeed,” Connor said. “Now, about the job-”

“I’ve had this ball for five whole years. Can you believe that?”

“No, but-”

“Of course, this was well before all the steroid allegations. If I had known it then, who knows? Maybe I would’ve spit on him.”

“Fascinating. Now, about the work-”

“Hold on there for one darn minute, Connie. There is no work here, only fun. Hence the name ‘Fun N Pizza’.”

Delightful, Connor thought to himself. He was dealing with a man who was fraught with delusions. Maybe he wouldn’t pay him with checks, instead using smiles and whimsy as his currency. And did he just call him Connie? That’s a girl’s name!

“Well, I like you, Connie. You’ve got an attitude that screams polite demeanor. I’ll hire you as soon as you fill out an application.”

Connor was escorted out of Doug’s office and moved to a table in the front of the restaurant, his only companions a singles sheet of paper and a pen.

Naturally, being a beast in terms of intelligence, he quickly breezed through the form. That is, he was breezing through when he came across the work history section. Therein lied his doom, wrapped around three small boxes of information requirements

You see, Connor’s work experience was covered with the taint of barely legal indiscretions. There was the six months he spent as a paper man for the Anarchist Times up in Alberta. Then there was the year he spent distributing pamphlets in Boston. There was also the week he spent as a taste tester for an anarchist food company.

He was stuck in a hard position. If he told the truth, then he wouldn’t get the job and he might even be investigated by the government. If he lied and put down more appropriate jobs, then there was the real possibility that they would investigate and fire him the minute they saw through his scheming. That’s when he came up with a brilliant plan...

The next week he found himself sitting in Doug’s office again.

“Connie, Connie, Connie,” Doug said.

“What is it, sit?” Connor asked.

“I’m not finished talking yet. Connie, Connie, Connie, Connie. We’ve got a serious problem. It seems that you haven’t got a lick of job experience.”

“Yes, sir.”

“You expect that I would hire a man based on no job experience?”

“Yes, sir.”

“And how on God’s green Earth do you explain that?”

“Well, like you said the last time I was in here, this isn’t work, it’s fun.”

“Yeah, so what?”

“I don’t think you need experience to have fun.”

“Well, I never thought of it that way.”

“I hadn’t either,” Connor said. “At least not for awhile. When I did come to it, I knew you’d be appreciative.”

“Very well, Connie. Looks like you’ve got yourself a job. How does that make you feel?”

“Oh, I’m just brimming with excitement.”

And he was brimming with something when he came to his first day of work the next day. You see, he had gone out to a bar to celebrate his making a capitalist enterprise accept an anarchist. He was alone at the bar, but most certainly not because he had to be. He decided a long time ago that his intellectual superiority was so great that no one could stand to be his friend. It’s also true that being the one true anarchist in all of the provinces was a solitary place.

Anyway, back to the story. Thanks to his lavish night out, he was completely hung over. But being a master of just about anything, he knew that no one would be able to tell.

The first customer of the day walked through the door. Now, it’s really difficult to describe Connor’s behavior in a way that would portray Connor in a good light. So, his subsequent actions will be listed along with some compliments.

Connor was blinded by the low amount of light that came in from the door opening. He cowered in fear down near the ground, and the customer thought that there was no cashier on duty. But on the positive side, Connor thought of a great idea for a song. He was going to call it “Blinded By The Light”. Look, I know what Manfred Mann’s Earth Band already did a song called that, but what am I supposed to do? I’m a third person narrator with access to Connor’s thoughts. I can’t take human form and correct him. Another plus, it shows how sensitive Connor is. Well, I guess this sensitivity doesn’t translate to emotions, but it’s basically the same thing.
When the customer tried to talk to him, Connor had to ask him to speak quieter. Well, it shows how Connor bravely stands up to the loud voice of the bourgeois capitalist.
After the customer left the counter to eat his food, Connor stuck his head in the freezer. This shows how “cool” he is. Admittedly, this is weak stuff, but I’m dealing with limited material here. I was thinking of putting in something about how his face was going to become much harder, symbolizing his rock solid resolve of standing up to the government and all those who stand up to it. And you thought that “cool” line was fucking horrible.
After the freezer, Connor thought about sticking his head into the deep frier for the french fries. If he was able to accomplish it, it would be really impressive. Also, french fries are full of terrible trans fats. So if you think about it, he was trying to destroy a disgusting death that was being feasted upon by an unsuspecting populace. By head butting it. Which would technically make him a butt head. Which was a bold and honorable testament to his willingness to stand up on behalf of all the butt heads in Toronto.
Being really thirsty, he stuck his face under the soda machine, and directly took some soda into his mouth. This is awesome, because, well, because, I guess, right! He was assuming his basic animal instincts, by putting the salvation of his throat directly in there. He wasn’t using any of his corporate education in the consumption of sodas. If only more people were willing to shed their inhibitions and act like animals, the world would be a much better place.
He made a little ice cream cone from the ice cream machine and smeared it all over his face. Look, I have no idea on how to make this seem more heroic. Why don’t you make something out of it? It’s easy, all you have to do is claim that it somehow makes his anarchist ideals shine through.

After the ice cream thing, a woman walked through the door. And not just any woman, it was Mary Mackenzie! He knew that she’d have to come back to him eventually. And not just because he hired a private investigator to track her down and bribe her into going back out with him. It was because they had to have made a serious connection. No could look into Connor Devlin’s face and not see the greatest face in the history of Canadian faces.

“I’ll have a small Pepperoni to go, please.” Mary said.

“Marty...it’s me, Convo!” Connor was able to say. And if you think about it, considering how much he had to drink the night before, this was really impressive.

“Excuse me?”

“You don’t recognize me? That’s too bad. Bad, not rad. So bad...”

“Connor, is that you?”

“Inboobably!”

“What happened to your face?”

“It’s creamed ice...”

WILL CONNOR BE ABLE TO SEDUCE MARY? BETTER QUESTION: IS THERE ANY SCENARIO WHERE MARY WILL BE ABLE TO AVOID IT? FIND OUT IN PART 3!

Anarchist's Song (Part 1): The First Draft

2011-01-18T10:50:00.000-08:00

ANARCHIST’S SONG: PART 1

By Jason Luna

“I shiver and give shivers. I weave and give part-weaves. I am the barber. The barber of life. Seville and civil. I bat and give bats. I am a sex and I have sex. Male getting the mail. I dance and give dance. Lessons that is.”

This is black man of the poem, Artis Smith, the black friend of one Connor Devlin. Is Connor a racist simply for having one black friend? In a word no. It’s not the racial wars that interest Connor. It’s the wars of the mind. And let’s just say that he isn’t going to give up his position based on false accusations of normalcy in government.

Who does he vote for? He doesn’t. And let’s just say...Hold on, Artis is talking again.

“Black and white is right. No room for caucasians of the caucuses or Afro-American of the fields. The cotton fields. Die nigger die! Die the death of the unused word. Ya heard the reckoning of the bells? Because I haven’t, and I’d really like to know what that feels like. Thank you.”

A mild smattering of applause, led by our hero, Connor Devlin. Do I say his name too much? Impossible! He approaches the stage with candor and a need to go to the bathroom. But he’ll hold it, and hold it well. He helps the old Artis off of the stage.

“Excellent job.” Connor says.

“You think so?” Artis says. “I really try, and it’s good to know that someone out there can see that. Want to grab a drink?”

“Nope. I’ve got an important meeting to attend.”

What he really had to do was go on a date. But he didn’t want Artis to wish him luck, or otherwise jinx him. Her name was Mary Mackenzie. From what Connor had heard about her was that she was easy. He didn’t know if she shared his ideological viewpoint, but he had an itch that needed to be put to rest.

Roughly 20 minutes later, Connor was sitting in a capitalist den of iniquity. Otherwise known as a Burger King. Seriously, what was the kingdom that this burger man saw as his own? Was there also a burger line of ascension, with a Burger Prince, a Burger Princess? Connor thought of a funny line involving the Earl of Sandwich being the perfect fit for such a kingdom.

And then he saw her. Connor had a method of dealing with blind dates. He would imagine them as the most homely, boring girl in the world. This way he would be pleasantly surprised by whatever he saw. But this girl was immensely beautiful. So beautiful that his mind turned into an empty net. Gone were his sandwich thoughts, and any basic conversational tenets. He was so messed up that all he could do was meekly wave in her general direction.

“Hi,” she said as she sat down.

“Hi,” Connor said.

“How are you?” she asked.

“How am I? How are you doing, beautiful?”

“I’m doing fine, I guess. The only thing is that it’s cold outside, and I forgot my jacket.”

“I’d offer you mine, but I think it’s too big for you.”

“Is that the only thing that’s big on you?”

Connor couldn’t believe it! 3 seconds of talking and she was already making allusions to his penis. He really was starting to like her even more than he did at a previous moment of liking her. Or something. He couldn’t really think straight with a girl this pretty and dirty.

“That’s for me to know and for you to find out.”

“Are you usually this cliched?” she asked.

“No, it’s just that you’re so beautiful..”

“That’s sweet. Now, let’s get down to business. Do you have a job?”

“Why do you ask that?”

“Because I’m not dating any unemployed loser, that’s why.”

“Yes, I have a job.” Connor said.

Another awkward pause. The reason for this was that Connor didn’t have a job. He was just lying with the hope that he could get far enough with it to ravish Mary.

“Well, what is it?” Mary asked.

“I’m a professor. That’s right, a college professor.”

“Where do you teach?” she asked.

“I teach at the local college.”

“What subject?”

“Political Science.”

“What’s your specialty?”

“Anarchism in government.”

“You’re an anarchist?”

“Yes.”

“Wow, that’s cool.” Mary said,”My only experience with anarchy is being a big fan of Anarchy in the U.K. by the Sex Pistols. Do you listen to them?”

“So, what does an anarchist do?”

“Mostly the same things as everyone else. We eat, we sleep, we do crossword puzzles every Sunday morning. And oh yeah, we try to permanently dismantle the government.”

“Do you ever get violent?”

“Not really. We use the printed word as our weapon du jour.”

“That’s a shame. Violence really turns me on.” Mary said.

“Well, pacifism is a turn-on for me, so maybe it’ll balance out.” Connor said.

“That don’t make a lick of sense.”
Well, I’d like to lick you,” Connor said. At least that’s what he later wished he had said. You see, this was the beginning of the end of any hope of getting laid. He could feel that losing attitude in his bones. The only thing he could think of saying was:

“How about we get some food?”

“Wow, pushy aren’t we? Look, I’m not hungry for food.”

“Well, what are you hungry for?”

“To borrow a phrase from you, that’s for me to know and you to find out.”

“Aha! So now the clichee has become the cliched.”

“Seriously, Connor, who says aha these days?”

“I guess I do.”

“Goodbye, Connor. Please don’t try to contact me ever again.”

“Before you go, Mary, let me ask you a simple question. What will it mean for you if you see me again?”

“Look, I-” Mary started.

“Go fuck yourself,” Mary said as she turned to walk out of the King.

Ok, ok. Maybe she didn’t say that, and most definitely did she not leave the restaurant. Where she did say ‘go fuck yourself’ was in her eyes. Her beautiful, perfect eyes. She did turn as if to leave, but she suddenly changed her mind. She looked at Connor right in the eyes and said:

“Kiss me, you danged fool.”

Ok, maybe she didn’t say that either. Wishful thinking on Connor’s part. In reality, she didn’t say anything for five whole minutes. Connor, surprised that his colorful phraseology about how great he was didn’t get applauded, sat there in complete silence as well.

After the agonizing five minutes had passed, Connor felt obliged to say something:

“What do you want to eat? A whopper, a chicken sandwich, what? What?”

I’ll take a whopper, I guess.” Mary said.

Connor got up and walked to the counter. He was excited, as he figured that whopper doubled as some kind of sexual metaphor. Once at the counter, he said:

“Two whoppers, please.”

“Do you want a combo, or just the sandwiches?” the cashier said.

Now all of Connor’s excitement was replaced with a morbid fear of what would come next. If he went back to ask what she wanted, he might be rebuked as being insensitive to her wants and needs. If he came back with soda and fries, she might accuse him of trying to drug her with fatty excess. Suddenly, a solution came to him.

“I’ll have one combo and the other just a sandwich.” Connor said. It was perfect. If she wanted fries and a drink, he could gallantly offer her his, raising himself from the depths of the prehistoric jerk to the absolute hero level.

After waiting for 14 minutes (he counted, and told the clerk the exact number of minutes to help increase the functionality of the process), he got his food and walked back to Mary.

There was only one problem. Mary wasn’t there anymore. A great depression, akin to the one experienced by America during the 1930s, overtook him, and was only worsened by the consumption of two fatty burgers. He drove himself back to his apartment and cried himself to sleep (and did other things that were unbecoming of an anarchist to admit to).

He also destroyed his copy of Mary’s telephone number. He knew that if he tried to get in touch with her again, it would only end in heartache.

In order to make himself feel better, he lied in bed and watched a hockey game. Not for enjoyment of the sport, as he found the game to be dull and repetitive. He watched it for the fights. For those blissful moments, he felt that anarchy reigned supreme on the ice. He refused to see the referees as standing to the side as moments of violence took place, but instead saw them as helpless observers unable to prevent the carnage that was taking place.

There was a slight problem. When he got to Artis’s apartment complex, he found a sign on his door that said he was moving to America in order to find more of an audience for his tongue twisting poetry. Connor was awestruck. Everyone he had feelings for was abandoning him. The only friend he had left was his manifesto.

He tried to call Artis’s cell phone, but there was a voice on the other end telling him that the number had been disconnected. Probably an attempt to make a more American phone number, Connor thought to himself.

Now what was Connor supposed to do? He contemplated suicide, but he convinced himself that such behavior would only serve to inconvenience the EMT’s that would come to clean up his corpse. He contemplated moving to America, but he had too much Canadian pride to give up on his country. It’s true that he loved anarchy in Canada, but it was love all the same.

Upon arriving at home, he found a package upon his doorstep. Since his pornography didn’t arrive until later in the month, he was at a loss as to what it could possibly be.

He took it inside and opened it up immediately. Inside there was a piece of paper. And guess what was written on that paper. Words. It read:

“Dear Connor Devlin,

It turned out he was a robot.

You will find the address to send the paragraph to on the back of the paper. Good luck and god speed,

Your Friend”

Connor was pleased with this development. Other than the fact that he refused to keep a religion, and was offended by the phrase ‘god speed’, he was glad that his life finally had some purpose. He went over to his computer and started typing:

‘It turned out he was a robot. Not in the literal sense. His brain had become biological hardware, autonomous to the needs of the people.’

Happy with how this had turned out, he had to figure out how to mail this paragraph to the address in question.

You see, money was a bit tight at the moment. What meager earnings he did come across were spent on necessities, such as his satellite TV hook-up.

I know what you’re thinking. ‘How is a TV set a necessity?’ Well, the fact of the matter is that an expensive TV was crucial to the position that Connor found himself in. If he was going to produce anarchy, he had to know precisely what kind of people he had to tear down. Plus, it was the only way to catch American pornography. Of course, the only reason he did this was to see the subjugation of women in a first hand kind of way. Or I guess you’d call it second hand. Either way, both hands were involved.

Back to the issue of sending the paragraph off. He decided that he had to work twice as hard on his manifesto, in the hopes that he could make some money off of its publication. After sitting in front of his computer for two minutes, he decided that he had to get a real job.

But what field to work in? One of his favorite American novels (although he publicly stated that he only read Canadian ones) was “Confederacy of Dunces”, and one of his personal heroes was Ignatius J. Reilly. He remembered that Ignatius had worked in a pants factory and sold hot dogs. The only problem was he didn’t know where to find those jobs. He did remember that there was a help wanted sign in front of a place called ‘Fun N Pizza’. He only hoped that the fun involved something that could be of use to someone in his age group.

The next day he found himself sitting in the office of Doug, a former trainee at ‘Fun N Pizza’ who rose up the ranks to become a regional manager.

The office was a sickening sight to behold.

HOW SICKENING? Find out in PART 2!

TV News

2011-01-17T15:52:00.001-08:00

I got Directv. Seems pretty cool, so far.

Marathon Update

2011-01-16T11:25:00.001-08:00

I'm now up to 3.25 miles walking.

Random Musing

2011-01-15T13:24:00.000-08:00

One of the dumbest things ever: the golden retriever that can do math on Ripley's Believe It Or Not. Clever Hans, anyone?

Best Songs Ever Series (By Artist): Simple Minds

2011-01-14T15:15:00.000-08:00

Don't You Forget About Me

Best Songs Ever Series (By Artist): The Fixx

2011-01-13T18:48:00.000-08:00

One Thing Leads To Another

Runners-Up:
1. Are We Ourselves?
2. Stand Or Fall
3. Red Skies
4. Saved By Zero

Running Update

2011-01-13T18:46:00.001-08:00

I managed to run non-stop on the treadmill for 9 straight minutes. I'm not stopping there, though.

Best Songs Ever Series (By Artist): Adam And The Ants/Adam Ant

2011-01-11T14:42:00.000-08:00

Antmusic

Runners-up (other than everything he did):
1. Desperate But Not Serious
2. Goody Two Shoes

Schizo Update

2011-01-11T14:41:00.000-08:00

The voices came back a little bit on Sunday and Monday. Sucks, but hopefully it won't happen again.

Football Thoughts Of Deep Consideration

2011-01-09T17:29:00.001-08:00

GO SEAHAWKS!

The Robot Chronicles (Part 1)

2011-01-08T17:04:00.001-08:00

Sitting on a park bench, except it isn't a park bench.

Marathon Update

2011-01-08T17:03:00.000-08:00

I walked 3 miles in 46 minutes. Hello at least walking a marathon.

Best Songs Ever Series (By Artist): Elvis Costello/Elvis Costello & The Attractions

2011-01-08T17:01:00.000-08:00

Not even close.

Pump It Up

And I heard it's dirty on the radio. But I have no idea why...

Runners-up:
1. Alison
2. What's So Funny 'Bout Peace, Love, and Understanding? (Just for the title)
3. Veronica
4. Watching The Detectives

2011-01-05T20:27:00.000-08:00

Marathon Training Update

2011-01-05T10:42:00.000-08:00

Plan to increase my endurance on the treadmill to 25 minutes at 4.3 miles per hour.

Random Musing

2011-01-04T10:44:00.001-08:00

I have black sneakers. Now I can pretend I'm wearing dress shoes!

Jason is Running A Marathon

2011-01-03T13:24:00.001-08:00

So, I'm beginning training for the rock and roll marathon in June.

Random Musing

2011-01-02T10:31:00.001-08:00

John Lennon/Plastic Ono Band must be one of the laziest album titles ever.

Random Musing

2011-01-02T10:30:00.001-08:00

I love suburbia, and the bourgeois, but I really hate my bank!

New Year's Resolution

2010-12-31T13:31:00.001-08:00

Be more talkative in social situations.

Random Musing

2010-12-30T11:46:00.001-08:00

So excited, getting away from the 2010 Fact Or Crap calendar and getting Bathroom Reader 2011 calendar.

Micah Collins Must Die (Part 4)

2010-12-29T11:03:00.000-08:00

His name is Micah too.

Random Musing

2010-12-28T21:00:00.000-08:00

All kisses do not begin at Kay. Maybe every failed attempt to save a marriage starts there.

Micah Collins Must Die (Part 3)

2010-12-28T20:59:00.001-08:00

I'm probably not the Micah you want to know about, though.

No. 1 Best Moment In My Life

2010-12-26T14:30:00.001-08:00

Still ongoing, getting over my schizophrenia.

No. 2 Best Moment In My Life

2010-12-25T21:02:00.000-08:00

When I won a million dollars on NBC's "1 vs 100".

No. 3 Best Moment In My Life

2010-12-24T23:09:00.000-08:00

When the Lakers beat the celtics in the 2010 NBA Finals.