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by Richard Timothy | Jun 9, 2010 | I Just Don't Get It, I Think There's a Point, It Seemed Like a Good Idea at the Time, Non-Fiction, Observationally Speaking, Public Service Announcement
I may have been mostly joking when I said there was a conspiracy going on when I had two smoke detectors go lame on the same night doubling their efforts to keep me awake all night due to their battery supplies running a bit low… and by mostly joking, I mean completely. That being said, let’s take a look at what happened to me today.
I was a standard work morning. I’m not sure why, but if I have nothing motivating me to get up and go to work, I’ll either get up rather early, or around noon, depending on what happened the night before. But on a typical work day, it’s pretty average and consistent for me to wake up two hours before work, look at the clock to make sure I have two hours to go until I need to be at work, and then I slap the snooze button with the fervor of one who is a trifle annoyed that a little inanimate object had the audacity to work properly and wake me up when I asked it to. Stupid alarm clocks anyway. Then for the next hour I continue to have a losing battle with the snooze button.
After about an hour of this, I reach a coherent level of self realization and admit that I have lost that battle and get up for the day. This gives me 15 to 20 minutes to shower, and 10 to 15 minutes to get dressed and out the door. Then I begin the 25 minute drive to work. This morning was precision as far as that standard goes. It was during the drive to work that I noticed my car was a little thirsty and that I could also use a little liquid snack to count as today’s breakfast as well. I mean it did seem like a good idea at the time. I pulled in to a gas station, filled up the car and then went inside to get a spicy V8 and headed outside to get back on my way to work.
I jumped in the car, pushed in the clutch, and turned the key, and was greeted by … ________ (click). There was nothing, no sound, no lights came on, no radio, no AC, nothing, except a very soft click, which after two more turns of the key fell silent too. My battery was not just drained it was dead, kaput… no more. I would have looked into the trunk to see if I had jumper cables, but I had no power to open the trunk. I did learn that I only have an ignition key which is not the trunk as well. There is, indeed, a difference. So, see I did learn something new today!
Still, how does a battery go from a quick and easy start up first thing in the morning and no issues what so ever getting 10 miles from my house to a gas station, to no charge at all simply by turning it off for about 5 minutes? It was just sitting there with zero power being drained from it and then bam! Nothing! Dead battery! So I did what anyone in my position would do, no I didn’t ask a stranger for help, I’m a man, we’re genetically wired to only ask for assistance from a stranger when no other options are left. This is why it’s almost impossible for us to ask for directions… it’s not our fault. We are born that way. Instead I called my office mate to see if he had cables and a little free time for head down the street and help me out.
Now had Angela been home, yes, I would have called her first, but she was out of town that morning and wouldn’t be back until that afternoon. And because work was only about 20 blocks away, it wasn’t too far of a drive. Sorya (pronounced Soy-ya) showed up about ten minutes later. As we attached the jumper cable to his car batter and then mine, he thanked me for getting him out of the office for a little while, and I, in return, thanked him for being willing to get out of the office for a little while. Ten minutes later I hopped in my car and turned the key. The car stuttered and then started up. Success was ours! We unhooked the cables and got ready to head to work when, in an act of sheer genius on my part, I turned on the AC. My car went from varoom-putt-putt-putt to puwahhh… ah… and all was quiet again.
I tried to roll down my window to yell at Sorya not to leave yet and quickly realized the flaw in this attempt. So I jumped out of the car and flagged Sorya to head back over. I explained the AC oopsy and he told me that the only way I was going to make it to work by driving myself there was by getting a new battery first. Enter phase two of this morning’s adventure. Actually it wasn’t all that complicated, just cash and time consuming. Once we got the new battery, we went to Sorya’s parent’s house to borrow some tools. Fortunately their house was just down the street from the gas station I was at.
Once the battery was installed Sorya headed back to drop off the tools and I headed back to the auto store to give them the dead battery so I could get $12 back, which I used some of to get a little lunch on the way to work. It was during the last few blocks of getting to work that I realized, “Wait just a minute!” This exact situation happened to Angela’s car about a month ago. She parked outside a department store, when in for about ten minutes and came back out and walla, dead battery. Her car refused to take a charge any kind of charge and resulted in a whole new battery being purchased and installed for her car as well. “Hmm?”
I called and told Angela about the whole thing, and suggested that we stop parking both cars in the garage together. My theory is that her car was apparently giving my car some suggestions for ways to get some additional attention and some new parts… gossipy little things. It also got me wondering about my joke about the conspiracy with the two dead batteries. That makes three dead batteries in three days. It’s like some black plague that is beginning, except this time it only kills batteries instead of humans. Although, if the plague does manage to kill the infernal drumming rabbit, I really can’t see how the end would not justify the means.
At this point the plague seems isolated to just me and battery operated devices that I own. However, if it does start spreading I’ll be sure to let you know. There is good news though. Apparently purchasing new batteries and replacing them with the dead ones does seem to correct and negate the powerless effects of battery operated devices. If this does kill the drummer bunny, I wonder where I go on-line to fill out a Nobel Prize application. I think this whole conspiracy just might give me the push I need this year. Plus, I’ll be sure to verbally acknowledge everyone that comments on this Smirk in my acceptance speech.
So, anyone else experiencing these reoccurring battery power shortages?
Image Source:
Google Images, key words: driving to work, hitting snooze, starting car, installing car battery, and energizer bunny skeleton.
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by Richard Timothy | Jun 8, 2010 | I Think There's a Point, My Cutie Baby Sweetie Pie, Non-Fiction, Observationally Speaking
It was on day two of my most recent Vegas experience that I one of the people there asked me if I had been gambling yet. Yes, I say Vegas experience because Vegas isn’t just a bunch of casinos or a city in the desert, or a weekend destination, Vegas is an experience. Take every small individual and minuscule thing and throw them in a blender, add about half a fifth of tequila, hit purée, and what you can remember at the end of it all is just a small factor of what is called the Vegas experience. If there ever was a city you never be without your towel and that could use a huge sign that says, “Don’t Panic” I think Vegas is it. There is something about the experience called Vegas that could use that constant reminder.
Considering that I arrived in town around 9PM on Tuesday and called it a night after shortly checking into our friend’s condo. I didn’t actually go to bed until after enjoying a Mike’s Hard Lemonade and an episode of the Daily Show. On a personal note, considering this was my first night in town, I do feel it was a raging success. Well, maybe not raging, but a success all the same.
If there is one word that most people find synonymous with Vegas it’s gambling. One thing that I’ve learned about myself when it comes to gambling is I’d rather be doing most anything else. I’ve tried it on a few occasions. The first time was on a river boat in Kansas City… actually I take that back, my first time was on an Indian Reservation in Washington state. I lost my entire gambling funds for the evening at a black jack table… in one hand. Granted, I only had $5 to gamble with and the minimum bet for the table was $5.
My friends keep pushing me to just do it, to remove the petals my proverbial gambling flower and, “just do it.” So I walked over, dropped the five dollar bill on the table, and was handed a queen and a six. I held. The dealer flipped over his cards, a jack and a king. I turned around and walked back to my friends and that was it. It took me a total of one minute and four seconds to lose my “gambling virgin” title, and replaced it with the “been there, done that, got a tee shirt to prove it” saying that most novices seem very proficient at sharing at social gatherings in an attempt to be part of a conversation, even though they really don’t have anything to add to the conversation.
My second experience gambling was the river boat in Kansas City. I doubled my gambling limit this time and had one whole ten dollar bill for the sole purpose of sloting away the evening. The thing about slots is that $10 doesn’t really contribute to a lot of time consumption in the gambling realm. For about five minutes I pushed a button and was done. This whole experience was a little disheartening. I had always wanted to pull the lever of a slot machine. It has always been one of those small goals in my life, a very simple accomplishment that really only takes a quarter, and lever, and an able and willing hand, which I had then and still have now.
Turned out the lever was all for show and completely useless. In fact I checked 87 additional slot machines and every lever there was purely for show. So I pushed a damn button for five minutes and every time I won I put the shinny slot machine vomit that spewed out into my pocket. At the end of five minutes I had about eleven dollars in change and had had my fill of the river boat casino.
Once I found I my friend I attempted to bribe him with the two things that I knew he enjoyed more that gambling. I suggested we get some food and then go back to his house to watch some MST3K. The thing was, was that he had already lost about $200 and had about $100 on the game he was playing. It was some bizarre electronic touch screen game thing. After he would win a roll he could pick 5 things on the screen, which had hidden bonuses behind them to add to his total. As I walked up to him he hit a bonus round and got to pick his bonus gems, he even let me pick one. I picked a peach colored gem and with that and the other ones he picked he got some mega, super-duper, yippy-ki-yay, hallelujah type bonus making tipping his credits past the $350 mark.
One interesting thing I’ve noticed about gambling is, when people start winning, they start betting faster and faster. I told my friend Ryan that we should go. He told me ok, and kept pushing buttons. I tried it again, and said, “Dude, cash out and let’s go.” To which he agree again, “Ok.” and kept pushing buttons at a little faster pace this time.
“Ryan! You’re ahead. Stop betting and let’s go.”
“Just a sec.” he said and started tripling his bet.
At this point I was now the mother trying to motivate a 5 year old to eat their vegetables, so I did what mothers have done from the beginning of time and I took matters into my own hands. 
I reached over and pushed the cash out button. As the big dollar tokens began to pour out of the machine he started grabbing two and three at a time and pushed them back into the machine. It wasn’t until I slapped his hands and said “NO!” that he finally stopped. He was still about forty bucks a head when he exchanged all his tokens. The sad thing was that in that five minute time span of me trying to encourage him to stop he had lost over $100 dollars of his winnings. Still, he was $40 ahead for the evening, so he took me out to dinner just so he could break even, and to say thanks.
My third encounter with gambling was during my first trip to Vegas. My sweetie-baby-cutie-pie-wifey-pooh was so excited about taking me to the Vegas for the first time she started saving all of her change so we could play penny slots all night, well, at least until the our show was about to start. So before we left our room she filled her purse with all the spare change she had saved up and off we headed to the casino. I have no idea of the actual net worth of the change, but her purse was about 10 pounds heavier as a result.
Here’s a little nugget that should help you out if you happen to find yourself in Vegas in this similar situation… there are no penny, nickel, or dime slots anywhere in the MGM Grand. There are a lot of dollar slots that will allow you to make a lot of penny, nickel, and dime bets… but there were none that let you add any of these coins by hand. There are a few that do take quarters, but only a few. The problem with our plan is that we only had about $12.00 in quarters. That left Angela with 24 quarters and me with 24 quarters.
So to get our money’s worth, so to speak, we would put one quarter in the slot at a time and then press the button. My favorite part about the whole thing was during my turn gambling. Every time I would win Angela would reach across and slap the cash out button, with ninja like reflexes I might add. Ding! Slap! And out would pop the little ticket displaying our winnings. By the end of it all I think we had just enough to tip the valet guy when we left.
I guess you could say I did do a little gambling while I was in Vegas. A friend from work gave me a recommendation to an Asian restaurant in the Chinatown part of Vegas, which we checked out. The gamble paid off, the food was quite tasty. Oh, there was one more gamble, we did some label shopping at Trader Joe’s and out of the 18 bottle of wine we brought home with us, over half of them are new, so we’ll have to see if that gamble paid off. Cheers!
What was your first gambling experience?
Image Sources:
Google Images, key words: gambling, black jack, slots, cash out button, jar of coins, and No.
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by Richard Timothy | Jun 7, 2010 | Horribly Horrible, I Do Suggest, I Think There's a Point, Non-Fiction, Observationally Speaking, Public Service Announcement
I was going share one of my new Vegas trip inspired Smirks today, but something happened last night after getting home that I feel a touch compelled to expand on. Some might call it a coincidence, but personally it seemed all too diabolical to be a mere coincidence. Once home we unloaded the car, and went through the mail, and turned on the AC, finally, because it was warmer inside the house than it was outside. Now considering we didn’t turn on the AC until June, I that as a rather impressive accomplishment. Angela and I even congratulated each other on that very fact.
As we waited for the air to begin flowing throughout the house I spent some time at the computer doing a little rereading and finally checking my e-mail for the first time that week. Eventually I went down stairs to see what Angela was up to, and to my complete lack of surprise she was sitting in front of the television working on her laptop, waiting for one of her Shirley Temple DVDs to start.
I did my best keep her company, but with the movie not half over and the clock ticking at me that it was already thirty minutes past midnight, I kissed goodnight and headed to bed, or so I thought. The long drive had worn me out so falling asleep was really not that difficult of a task. As for staying asleep, well that’s where the diabolical nature of the evening began.
I remember Angela climbing into bed. I had no idea what time it was, but for some reason having your significant other climb into bed while you’ve been sleeping is usually one of those things people remember. It’s like when the dishes start to rattle in the cupboard and you eventually think to yourself, “Oh hey! An earthquake!” except it’s not quite as subtle as that. It was shortly after I got repositioned that I heard a faint noise what sounded like a single and very direct bird chirp. It was too dark to be the demon wake-up call bird, so I let it go with a small sigh and tried to get myself to reboot back into an REM state of slumber. All of a sudden I heard it again. Another chirp made its way into my brain and destroyed any residual sleepy time thoughts I might have been having. My mind was now full of with a slew of dirty words that were probably incomprehensible to anyone listening due my knack for sleepily mumbling profanity.
As I got out of bed, Angela informed me that the smoke detector in the television room needed to have its battery replaced. Yes, the chirping was the smoke detector doing its best to annoy its master to the brink of either bludgeoning the device into silence or, through repetition, encouraging its owner to replace the batteries. Problem was, there were no 9-volt batteries in the house and 2:15 AM going out to get batteries was nowhere on my to-do list. Kindly, Angela had removed the detector from the ceiling and placed it in my office and covered with a few blankets to muffle the sound. This helped some, but the battery was still inside so the repetitious chirping had no intention on stopping any time soon.
I went into my office, and found the blanketed violator of dream time euphoria and with just a hint of vindictiveness I opened that round plastic disk of intended life saving functionality and gutted that little bastard, removing its life giving battery. Then I kept pressing the test button until there was no juice left. I had squeezed the life out of it, and I felt rather justified by that.
As I walked out of my office in a triumphant stagger of someone who really needed their nap after a long hard battle I heard a little chirp. “What the…, piece of sh…, rat bas…, sonofabi…, damn it!” was about all I could muster as I turned around and walked back into my office. Had there been any implements of light to medium destruction close by I would have swung first and asked questions later. So as I stood there, holding the detector in one hand and the batter in the other I heard the chirp again… there was another one out there that had decided that it too needed changing. Either that or it was smoke detector mating season in my house and two of these devices decided that they were in season and it was time to begin their mating calls.
I began begrudgingly exploring the house. Three chirps later I discovered the culprit was right next the bedroom in Angela’s office. Fortunately I was tall enough that was able to just stand on the floor and twist, pull, unplug and depower that little monster. Had I been required to use a chair to climb up to remove that thing, I’m pretty sure one if not both of us would have died. Once I got the battery out, there was one short moment of satisfaction where, as I pushed the tester button, the final chirp started strong, but as the power drained the chirp muttered and sputtered in to dead silence.
Yes, TWO smoke detectors decided to remind me that it was time to change their batteries at 2AM on a Monday night after getting back from Vegas. Yeah, so if I ever meet Loki I’m going to have him castrated, you know, for fun. The thing is this is the third time that’s happened. I wouldn’t care if they started chirping away once I got home. I’d gladly go to the store and gotten them some 9-volt feed to shut them up for another 6 months, but seriously 2 AM on three different occasions? Screw you smoke detectors… screw you.
I did have a thought as a stumbled back into bed. Smoke detectors need a snooze button. You can push it in instance that the battery starts to run low and beep to remind you of this, but it just so happens to be 2 or 3 in the morning. All you do is push the snooze button and the detector will shut up for about 10 hours. That way you can go back to sleep get a full night’s sleep and then when you get home from work the snooze will have worn off and the detector will be chirping away reminding you to replace the batteries right then instead of two hours after to go to bed.
It was baffling to me that there were actually two culprits taking part in the last night’s smoke detector incident. I mean maybe the house was upset that we had left for the week without telling it where we were going. I really have no idea. It just seems to me that there was some sort of meddling meddler that would have set up that type of dual reaction at roughly the same time of night. I know! I’ll bet it was that bird that kept attacking the bedroom window for all those weeks. It must have finally gotten into the house and set up the whole thing. Now I really hate that bird.
Well I suppose if the bird comes back in the next day or two to gloat then I’ll know who was responsible, otherwise it’s off the hook. On a side note, it hasn’t been around in almost a month so I’m pretty sure it’s finally moved on.
The incident was over fairly quick, but by all means, trust me on this and have some backup 9-volts in your home, just in case. Even if you are of a pleasant disposition, chirping smoke detectors in the middle of the night does cause one to lose that disposition in a hurry. I guess the only thing left to add is… note to self: pick up a two packs of 9-volt batteries on the way home tonight.
Any of you have your own smoke detector stories? Do share.
Image Source:
Google Images, key words: smoke detector, bed head, printer smash, snooze button, and pack of 9-volt.
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by Richard Timothy | May 31, 2010 | Gratefully Grateful, Holiday Banter, I Do Suggest, I Think There's a Point, Lightbulbs and Soapboxes, My List of Things that Don't Suck, Non-Fiction, Observationally Speaking
I did have a Smirk that I was going to post today, which I’ve been working on the past few days, but, clearly, I opted out of posting it due mainly to the fact that today is a holiday, Memorial Day to be precise. At its origin, Memorial Day was refereed as Decoration Day, where people would decorate the graves of Union soldiers that died during the American Civil War. The decorations were a way of paying respect and giving thanks to the soldiers who died while in service of the military.
Even as early as 1882 the name Memorial Day was used in relation to this holiday, but it was not until 1971 that it officially changed. The day was changed to always be observed on the last Monday of May in order to ensure a three day weekend. It also marks the beginning of summer.
I get that Memorial Day is for remembering our fallen military, but for me ever since I was little, the holiday as evolved into something more. To me, Memorial Day is a Dia de los Muertos, Day of the Dead. It’s not just a day for fallen soldiers, it’s a day for remembering all that have passed on. Since my mom’s grandparents were alive while I was growing up in Wyoming, there was never a need to go the their graves for memorial day, but once a year the family we would travel to Idaho and visit the little head stones of my dad’s parents. Then, as we would weed, edge, and deleaf their graves, and scrub clean their headstones, my dad would tell us stories about Grandma and Grandpa Timothy.
When my dad’s voice would start to crack and the silence between each sentence grew longer that is when the stories would come to a close, and we would go to the car and get out the food for our Memorial Day picnic. Usually it was sandwiches and Kool-Aid, and sometimes it was sandwiches and Kool-Aid and 7 Up mixed together for the magical combination of twice the sugar with only half the bubbles. Still, it was a treat that we never took for granted.
After lunch was over, we would usually head back home which consisted of me sitting in the middle of back seat with my feet on the hump and my knees to my chest. I would dare say that this was my least favorite traveling position, but as it turned out, it was rather fortuitous. I was a head duck away from a sitting fetal position, which was always helpful when sitting between my two older brothers who, on more than one occasion, would feel compelled to fight out what was between them… namely me. I love them both to pieces now, but as the little brother growing up, my old brothers were bastards… of course I mean no disrespect towards my mom. I’m just saying… we didn’t always get along when we were little.
Memorial Day is one of those red wine holidays. The older I get the more I appreciate and savor the holiday. I am grateful to the service men that did what they felt they needed to for this country, and I’m grateful for those that I have known who have expired. My grandparents on both sides of the family are now gone, but it was their lessons they transferred onto my parents that helped them become the parents they are for me. Today is a holiday to celebrate the memories we have of those who are gone and it should be a celebration. Their life has affected our life and for that, I am thankful.
Even though today is the US day of observance there are similar holidays celebrated for this same purpose. There is:
And I’m sure the list just keeps going from there. There is a certain homage that is tied to people who have served and died for their country. I do think, though, that one can serve their country without military service. I look at people working at a soup kitchen to assist those in need, or people offering their time to serve people in hospitals, or donating blood, or any type of service that helps others. To me, that is serving your country.
And to add just a one more thing to my little soapbox moment here, please try to leave the politics at home on days like today. Let’s try being gracious to those that are gone. So lift a glass, pint, mug, bottle, cask, keg… whatever really, but lift your drink and offer a thanks. I don’t see the point in getting angry on a day like today, it doesn’t do you any good and it doesn’t do those that are gone any good. I do admit I have no experience with losing a loved one due to war. I’m sure it’s different for you.
I think most service men die because those in charge made poor decisions or were too proud to have conversations with other people in charge that could save lives. Then again, there is also the occasional crazy bastard that just wants to kill epic amounts of innocent people. In which case I do think people like that could benefit from either a lobotomy or a circumcision that starts at the base of the neck. I guess the point is, that on your day of remembrance, you choose to remember the loved ones who is gone, and not what took them away.
I’m actually off to my brother’s for a BBQ this afternoon. When I get there, I’m going to have both my parents tell us a story about their parents. Even though we didn’t visit any graves this year, at least we can share and celebrate the memories we have of them. So to all those who have gone to whatever beyond you think might exist or not exist, to those who believed in and gave something to this world and their country , and to my grandparents, my Aunt Carol and Uncle Dee, and to my friend Alison. And finally to days like today, which remind us to remember. Cheers!
How was your Memorial Day?
Image Sources:
Google Images, key words: Memorial Day, family picnic, and grandpa telling stories.
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by Richard Timothy | May 27, 2010 | I Do Suggest, I Think There's a Point, Lightbulbs and Soapboxes, MST3K, My Cutie Baby Sweetie Pie, My List of Things that Don't Suck, Non-Fiction, Observationally Speaking, Reviewed and Recommended
Movies, we all know what one looks like after it’s had its 15 minutes and then walks the path of inevitable DVDism. And even though I gather most of my film consumption via DVD, I have even been known to do the occasional theater experience as well. I’d like to say it’s better, but you know how it goes, once you get there you find need for a tub of popcorn and a soda usually costs you slightly more than your first born, and if you want to get some Junior Mints to go along with that, you have to haggle with yourself on whether making your car payment that month is really more important than a box of processed dark chocolate stuffed with a foreign substance that is the equivalent of a aftermath of a candy canes sneeze. Sad thing is, sometimes we actually decide that chocolate covered peppermint boogers are worth being a little late on the car payment for the month.
There are some films that I think are enhanced by seeing them on the big screen. Granted, most of this enhancement comes from watching a film in a theater full of devoted fans as opposed to watching it with a group of people that are only in the theater because they want to get out of the summer heat. Fan excitement is a power to be reckoned with. Because of fan excitement I have found myself in the past enjoying the hell out of an incredibly mediocre film. Then again the opposite can happen as well. You can go to a rather exciting and entertaining film and if you happen to be surrounded by a collection of people jacked up on Ritalin, there is a chance it’s going to lose some of its splendor.
One of the magical aspects of the cinema is that it is an entertainment medium that gives every person that watches it the self proclaimed title of film critic. When first starting out as a film critic the initial practice of rating a film is very Roman in origin. A film either receives a thumbs up, meaning that it should be allowed to live so that others can experience the same viewing pleasure that you received. Or you give it a thumbs down, which simply means that you would recommend going to the dentist for a root canal as a viable entertainment option as opposed to seeing the film.
The situation that then follows is a result of film makers not holding themselves to a higher standard, or it could just be that the industry is flooded with trite and uninspiring film makers. The result is the relentless flow of films that are not good, but they don’t really suck either. This requires the novice film critic to add a new dimension to their film rating system. Enter the three star system:
1 Star = Hated it.
2 Star = It was ok.
3 Star = Loved it.
As opinions about film grow, so does the range of your ability to review a film, thus increasing your rating system to a five points, stars, A through F or something similar. For today’s purposes and to add clarity, I’m going to borrow Netflix’s five-star system and their definitions. It breaks down like this:
1 Star = Hated It
2 Star = Didn’t Like It
3 Star = Liked It
4 Star = Really Liked It
5 Star = Loved It
The problem I have with this is that there are way too many movies out there that evoke absolutely no emotion at all, or just fail to exceed any of your movie watching expectations, thus creating a completely new movie going experience. These are what I predominantly call background movies. Something you can put on in the background, while you are doing something else. The film really doesn’t have enough merit to encourage you to pay attention to them, meaning they are easy to ignore.
For me these are movies that earn my 3 Star rating. The nice thing about these films is their utter lack of interest, so it’s easy to work on other things and focus on other things while these movies play. This is the main reason movies I disliked or hated don’t fall into this category. Movies you dislike are instilling in you a negative response or an unpleasant emotion. On a personal note, if you are of the disposition that you need noise while you create and your preferred background noise is a television, please never create while a film that affects you negatively is playing. It’s just a bad way to create in my opinion.
Here is my personal 5 Star film rating system:
- 5 Star = Loved it. I am going to purchase this film when it comes out for my personal collection and worth watching a few times.
- 4 Star = Exceeded my expectations and worth the time I spent watching it.
- 3 Star = Met most to all of my expectations. An ok film… or in other words, out of all the movies I’ve ever seen that definitely was one.
- 2 Star = Mostly worthless. Met few to no expectations I had for the film.
- 1 Star = Screw you movie! That is two hours of my life I will never get back. I am actually stupider because I have watched this film. It might also be comparable to a vomit milkshake. (There are few movies that I hate this much, but there are some.)
If it makes sense to you, please feel free to adopt it and raise it as one of your own.
Also, based on that system, here are a few movies that I’ve seen that fall into each category:
1 Star = There Will Be Blood, No Country for Old Men, and Star Trek 5
2 Star = Aeon Flux, Burn After Reading, and Jerry Maguire
3 Star = Across the Universe, Crazy Heart, and Dances with Wolves
4 Star = The Breakfast Club, Dear Frankie, and O Brother, Where Art Thou?
5 Star = Harvey, The Hudsucker Proxy, and Stranger than Fiction
I do need to point out that I think for all people there is a kind of holy writ of viewing euphoria. It is very personal to the viewer and overflows with nostalgia, carrying with it such joy and appreciation that you could have it playing nonstop for days at a time. And whether you are paying attention or not, it’s fine, because you know that when you do stop and pay attention, it is always going to put a smile on your face, unconsciously causing you to appreciate everything in life that much more. It’s a kind of bliss movie, a blovie if you will. See even the word makes you smile. For me, it would have to be MST3K (or one of its off shoots), and for my sweetie-baby-cutie-pie its old Shirley Temple films. There is something permeatingly happy about watching Angela watch Shirley. They are a bit contagious in that regard.
So, what are some of your blovies?
Image Source:
Google Images, key words: watching movies, thumbs up, bored audience, and MST3K.
by Richard Timothy | May 25, 2010 | Gratefully Grateful, I Do Suggest, I Think There's a Point, Lightbulbs and Soapboxes, My List of Things that Don't Suck, Non-Fiction, Observationally Speaking, Public Service Announcement, Reviewed and Recommended
I remembered my towel today, and I didn’t panic once. Plus, I do believe I understand the psyche of Linus much better now as well. I did notice that there were a number of people at work today that gave me a noticeable glance of confused inquiry when I walked into the office with a towel draped over my satchel. The nice thing about towel accompaniment is that when you enter a situation where people are in the midst of panic you know you are going to be just fine, and you know why? Because you remembered your towel.
I figure this is the reason why these people only hurriedly glance in my direction as opposed to deliberate staring, or conversing with me as to why I had a towel. I would dare venture to say that the only people smiling at me were people who had also come to work today with a towel, but I was the only towel wielding one in the place. So venturing to say that would do no good. I did explain to a few friends in upper management my towel toting ensemble was a result of it being Towel Day, but this really didn’t help the confusion. So I gave them the history of this panic free day of remembrance.
Towel day first started in 2001, just two weeks after the sudden and premature death of author Douglas Adams. And since its incarnation, on every 25th of May for the past nine years, fans of Douglas display their love and appreciation of both the author and his works by toweling around for the day with a towel.
For those of you not familiar with the work of Douglas and therefore are a bit lost in regards to the towel homage being giving, here is my public service for the day. Here is the origin of the greatness of the towel, found in Chapter 3 of The Hitchhiker’s Guide to the Galaxy.
“A towel, it says, is about the most massively useful thing an interstellar hitchhiker can have. Partly it has great practical value. You can wrap it around you for warmth as you bound across the cold moons of Jaglan Beta; you can lie on it on the brilliant marble-sanded beaches of Santraginus V, inhaling the heady sea vapors; you can sleep under it beneath the stars which shine so redly on the desert world of Kakrafoon; use it to sail a miniraft down the slow heavy River Moth; wet it for use in hand-to-hand-combat; wrap it round your head to ward off noxious fumes or avoid the gaze of the Ravenous Bugblatter Beast of Traal (such a mind-bogglingly stupid animal, it assumes that if you can’t see it, it can’t see you); you can wave your towel in emergencies as a distress signal, and of course dry yourself off with it if it still seems to be clean enough.
More importantly, a towel has immense psychological value. For some reason, if a strag (strag: non-hitch hiker) discovers that a hitch hiker has his towel with him, he will automatically assume that he is also in possession of a toothbrush, face flannel, soap, tin of biscuits, flask, compass, map, ball of string, gnat spray, wet weather gear, space suit etc., etc. Furthermore, the strag will then happily lend the hitch hiker any of these or a dozen other items that the hitch hiker might accidentally have “lost”. What the strag will think is that any man who can hitch the length and breadth of the galaxy, rough it, slum it, struggle against terrible odds, win through, and still knows where his towel is is clearly a man to be reckoned with.”
— Douglas Adams, The Hitchhiker’s Guide to the Galaxy
Douglas captured my creative appreciation when I first introduced to him by my brother Dave, who gave me a copy of The Hitchhiker’s Guide to the Galaxy for my 16th birthday. It was groovy enough that upon turning 16, I was legal to drive a car without supervisor, but to top it off I had a guide book, which even though it never helped me get a date, at least it reassured me that I would never be as depressed and Marvin, and encouraged me to always know where my towel was.
At 16 “The Guide” was a novelty and a source of a good laugh, but I never really let myself marinade in its Douglasian wit. It was a good read and a recommendation that I would give to others, but I never sought for more. My true appreciation for Douglas didn’t develop until he was, well, post Douglas and I read The Salmon of Doubt for the first time. There was something about the person Douglas that others wrote about that captured my true appreciation for the writer Douglas. The short articles that filled the first half of Salmon of The Doubt kept me laughing out at his wit, wordplay, and perspective on life that makes the loss of Douglas that much more reminiscent of Vogon poetry.
Since it is Towel Day and I am going to share a few of my Douglas related tokens I received this year, both from one of my new Facebook friends John Palfrey. The first is a nugget of Douglas trivia. Apparently, according to the book Pigs Might Fly by Mark Blake, The Inside Story of Pink Floyd, David Gilmour and Douglas Adams were best mates… I had no idea. So to those of you that didn’t know, you’re welcome (thanks John), and if you happen to be one of those that did know, you have all earned yourself the brown Arts & Literature Trivial Pursuit triangle. Well done and roll again.
The other thank you to John is for sending me the photo he took of Douglas’ headstone a few years back. Yes, that is a toy dolphin setting on top of it. There are some sayings that seem to find their perfect place in time and space. Creating a type of literary immortality where, as long as there are people who read, these phrases will live on. Some have been tried by time and translation, and are here for the long count. Phrases like, “And it came to pass”, “To be or not to be”, and “When in Rome.”
Then there are some sayings that are so poignant that even in their own time they catch a people’s minds and hearts and will not go gently into that good night. These phrases include “I have a dream”, “We have nothing to fear but fear itself”, and, of course, “So long and thanks for all the fish.” There are words that tie humanity together. Phrases that inspire in us, give us joy, strengthen our resolve, fill us with passion, bring us together in unity, and fill us with laughter. Douglas always had a gift at the latter of those.
Apart from all the unsure and panic stricken glances that today held, I did have, what I believe alcoholics refer to as a moment of clarity, which was this… regardless how you feel about Douglas or his canon of Hitchhiking tales, there is one irrevocable truth that encompasses today… As long as we live in a world where there are towels, we will have a world that remembers Douglas Adams.
Did any of you remember your towel today?
Image Source: John Palfrey and Google Images, key words: Towel Day, Hitchhiker’s Guide to the Galaxy, and The Salmon of Doubt.
I may have been mostly joking when I said there was a conspiracy going on when I had two smoke detectors go lame on the same night doubling their efforts to keep me awake all night due to their battery supplies running a bit low… and by mostly joking, I mean completely. That being said, let’s take a look at what happened to me today.
I was a standard work morning. I’m not sure why, but if I have nothing motivating me to get up and go to work, I’ll either get up rather early, or around noon, depending on what happened the night before. But on a typical work day, it’s pretty average and consistent for me to wake up two hours before work, look at the clock to make sure I have two hours to go until I need to be at work, and then I slap the snooze button with the fervor of one who is a trifle annoyed that a little inanimate object had the audacity to work properly and wake me up when I asked it to. Stupid alarm clocks anyway. Then for the next hour I continue to have a losing battle with the snooze button.
I jumped in the car, pushed in the clutch, and turned the key, and was greeted by … ________ (click). There was nothing, no sound, no lights came on, no radio, no AC, nothing, except a very soft click, which after two more turns of the key fell silent too. My battery was not just drained it was dead, kaput… no more. I would have looked into the trunk to see if I had jumper cables, but I had no power to open the trunk. I did learn that I only have an ignition key which is not the trunk as well. There is, indeed, a difference. So, see I did learn something new today!
