From my favorite comedy:
Have a good weekend.
From my favorite comedy:
I really love your… er, jilts?
Inspired, of course, by the Jorts Inventor.
Cautionary Tales of Swords: Part III is out.
After viewing it: Wow, I’m impressed. Great call-back to the decorative sword bit in Episode I. Brave new direction, indeed. I laughed hard at a few jokes in there. Thoroughly recommended.
If you haven’t seen all three, start at the beginning of the Cautionary Tales of Swords saga. Click the small ‘download’ links.
The audience seems to have loved it as much as I did.
I made my now-annual trip to the Lou this weekend for all three games of the home series against the Braves. This year’s trip was even better than last year’s, although with tamer weather. (Unrelated, but I found this Contra/guitar video while digging up that link to last year’s recap.) We got off to a late start as I needed to spend about an hour talking to sundry ticket office employees about why I wasn’t able to print up the tickets for this weekend, so by the time we got to St. Louis, we only had time to pound a few beers at the Majestic before taking the Metro down to the stadium. Friday’s game was an unpleasant tilt in which Kip Wells struggled in front of a porous defense. Afterwards, the sole Braves fan who made the trip after the other two moved off to Colorado Springs this summer joked that he regrets forgetting the broom he’d bought last year in misplaced anticipation of a sweep (the Braves were up 2-0 on the series with Carpenter starting game 3).
We went to Grant’s Farm fairly early on Saturday and had a great time looking at widespread tree damage caused by a violent Friday afternoon storm with gusting winds at 60 mph, exotic animals, and drinking free beer. Shockingly, I’d never been to Grant’s Farm before then, in spite of having gone to the Affton ice center across Gravois at least a hundred times for practices and games over my youth hockey career. Grant’s Farm is definitely a good time and the weather cooperated beautifully. After that, we drove down Gravois and had a few drinks and some tasty skewers in the Venice Cafe biergarten. Chris met up with us for Saturday night’s game, an exciting game that had us on the edges of our seats all night. All five of the Cardinals runs were scored during a smoke break. It took that long to walk down from the upper decks to the smokers-aren’t-welcome-here patio outside the open air fence. At least I got to hear some of it on the audio feed they reluctantly piped outside for us scum and peeked in through gates on the climb back up to see some more. Due to some undersized sneakers, my feet were causing me some pain by the time we got back to our seats—more on that later. The Cardinals ended up scratching out a close win, 5-4, and I went home happy with the series split and to be decided by an Adam Wainwright vs. King Jo-Jo Sunday matchup.
After the game, we met up with the crew at Majestic for some drinks and then were invited to play a demo of EA’s Rock Band for the XBox. Review here, pre-order for the low price of $200 here. My friends had set it up on a hi-def LCD projector, running through several hundred watts of JBL goodness. Incidentally, Rush was drinking some beers at a bar down the street after playing St. Louis Friday night and a friend of mine conjured up the moxie to invite them to join us for the game—I swear that happened and yes, they declined immediately.
If you haven’t heard of Rock Band, like I hadn’t before this weekend, it’s something like Guitar Hero except with a drum kit and vocals. (Two guitars, the drum kit, and a microphone are included in that $200 price.) I played all four instruments: lead guitar, bass, drums, and vocals. The lead guitar and bass are pretty much exactly like guitar hero with the exception that parts of the songs allow the band to jam out and go into improvised solos. I was having too much fun to do a scientific inquiry, but I’m pretty sure the software employs some sort of scoring algorithm to rate how well the players’ solos worked with one another. I know of people who’ve made AI agents that try to make those kinds of subjective judgments, and it would’ve made sense to include one.
The drum kit is four round synth drum surfaces on the same level and a floor kick. I had a hard time my first try because I’m a little color blind and had a hard time telling green from yellow. The second time through, I took the advice to just go with the positioning, where the columns on the screen are analogous to the drums on the kit, left to right. My shins are too long to work the kick and whip over to the drums on the left very well, but I think I got the hang of it. It was hella fun, to say the least. Drums solos are a blast.
Including vocals seemed pretty ambitious of EA, but they did a very good job. The original vocals are included and do a good job of making a chorus effect with your own crooning to make a decent sound for the spectators. How well you sing was measured, as far as I could tell, in two dimensions: in frequency and duration. They may have used a Hidden Markov Model on a drastically filtered waveform, but I’d guess they just sampled F0 and gave you a window (sized on difficulty level from Easy to Expert) in which to match the target frequency and another window on how close your transitions to stop and frequency changes match up to the targets. As I said, it worked pretty well. Jeff tried singing “Creep” by Radiohead on Expert and the margin of error was very, very small.
That’s an incredibly fun game and at $200 is going to sell to every dorm room on every campus this Winter when it’s released.
Sunday, we met up with Boxcar Fritz and HLF for Wainwright’s dominant start and Isringhausen’s 200
Two-day weekends don’t get much better than that.
Van Halen: Hot for Teacher. Best rendition yet.
Christopher Cross: Arthur’s Theme. Very difficult song. Did it on a dare from Jeff and think I acquitted myself well.
Neil Diamond: Love on the Rocks. My dad loves this song. My friends didn’t. One drew a picture of a sad face crying while I sang it. I nailed it, though. I would’ve cried had my tear ducts not atrophied during puberty.
Had time not run out, I would’ve sang Marvin Gaye’s Let’s Get It On. Next week…
Jeff just sent me a link to these videos of Nick Vatterott performing standup. I’m a big fan of this bit about the early history of the film industry.
I haven’t seen this bit about flipping through the channels on TV, but it’s a great idea. Lots you can do with that one.
You can hear him give a shout-out to our old friend Bryan Sharpe towards the end of this bit.
It began two weeks before yesterday, when my Band of Brothers DVD collection arrived from Amazon and I dragged a friend into watching all ten episodes in one sitting. This is a veritable feat and served as the baptism for Monday Night Marathon.
Last week, we watched all three awful, awful Shark Attack Movies. It was something everyone feels compelled to do after seeing this clip from Shark Attack 3: Megalodon. The first movie was actually fairly decent, starring Casper Van Dien of Starship Troopers fame. The second was god-awful and ended about halfway through its story arc. Basically, there was a pack of (apparently) genetically altered Great White sharks hunting people, but they never resolved who modified the sharks. They just blew them up. The third movie was clearly the best, featuring a prehistoric Megalodon, that besides eating all the stuff you can see in that clip, also eats a speedboat and the parasailer it was towing in a fairly well conceived scene. On top of starring John Barrowman doing his best Tom Cruise impression throughout, it also features Jenny McShane in a different role that she played as the lead in the first movie. If there’s a Shark Attack 4, I require that the sharks be from outer space and that they abduct people onto their spaceships to eat them. I also require that Jenny McShane—quite an attractive woman—play the role of one of the space-sharks without any explanation or costume aside from a fin-hat. The second MNM also featured a new twist: a dinner based on the theme of the marathon movies. Last week we ate three pounds of snow crab with a simple {lemon, butter, white wine, parsley} reduction that I whipped up.
Last night, in the third installment of Monday Night Marathon, we watched both Ghostbuster movies. The first movie is badly underappreciated and a very solid comedy. The second one is an embarrassing piece of crap. After the awful sequel, we played a third film, a fantastically clever comedy that far too few people know of: Dead Men Don’t Wear Plaid.
The theme dinner for Ghostbusters wasn’t easy. We had green jell-o, of course. I also made a General Tso inspired sauce (best military-themed chicken dish this side of Col. Sanders!) from some reduced beef stock, tomato paste, soy sauce, yucateco hot sauce, garlic, red peppers of some sort, and rehydrated red chilies. I stir fried some strips of steak, mixed in the sauce, and served it thusly:

You know:

My kids are gonna think I’m so cool until their notions of coolness are corrupted by whatever lame-assed trends pre-teens buy into fifteen to twenty years from now. It tasted great, too!
Not sure what to do about next week. I was thinking maybe Clash of the Titans but don’t know what other Greek mythology movies exist out there.
What a downer. I’ve seen worse weather at a ballgame… And we got that one in!
Kip Wells looked good, as has been his custom lately. Too bad we had to lose him for a turn in the rotation. Wells has been better against Florida than he has against Atlanta, so I considered whether Tony might flip-flop Reyes and Wells—starting Wells on short rest and giving Reyes an extra day of rest. That would be a bad idea, though. Reyes has made one start against the Braves and was pounded. No sense in trying to outsmart yourself here.
I’m guessing they’ll schedule the makeup date for tonight’s game for October 1st if there are playoff consequences that would necessitate an outcome. This series will be a loss, but we can take comfort in that runs were scored in only two of the twenty innings pitched against the Cubs so far (18 of them official).
There’s a chance some of you may have missed this. That’s a chance I’m not willing to take, even if I need to broach a line of decency.
Here’s the original… A group of misguided teens humping an ottoman in a pathetic attempt to demonstrate their sexual prowess(sic).
As an aside, when I see that video I react in much the same way as Mark Mulder does in his only line in this bit.
Once you’ve seen enough of that nonsense, behold with great joy the old-timey satire of it.
And finally—the reason I’m mentioning this now—a new way to make fun of those kids. Somebody set it to two different songs, the Benny Hill theme song and this lovely tune:
Boning away on the ottoman!
Boning the whole day long!
The couch is too old and gray
And the bed is too far away
So sing with me this happy boning songBoning away on the ottoman!
There’s nothing I’d rather do!
Than help you out of your good dress
And dork you on the footrest
Just boning away and boning away
And no I won’t stop ’til my scrotum decays
Just boning away!
On the ottoman!
With you!
This is the sort of thing that amuses me.
I also made the image below after Juan Encarnacion hit into a double play in the first inning today. Quick n’ dirty, but I like the joke.

Guns n’ Roses: Used to Love Her
Van Halen: Hot for Teacher
Tears for Fears: Everybody Wants to Rule the World
Thompson Twins: Hold Me Now
I may not be able to sing as well as all them, but I do have a much more sensible haircut.
If that’s not amusing enough, here’s a video of an elephant shoving his trunk up another elephant’s deuce-hole. Many thanks to C-Bot for passing that one along.
(The irony).
If my tear ducts hadn’t atrophied during puberty, I’d've wept for joy.
That was true beauty, true justice.
That was amazing.
May it be the beginning of something great.
Hitting is timing. Pitching is disrupting that timing.
You tell me:
Make Believe or Reality?