More Than Meets the Eye

A good portion of my childhood was spent in a world created by Hasbro. I was always incredibly enamored with the Transformers. I played with the toys; watched the cartoon; read the comic books; pretended to be the characters; and talked about the toys, cartoon, comic books, and characters with friends and family. I would recreate the sounds from the cartoon every time one of my toys or my pretend body would go from one physical state to another. Needless to say, I was looking forward to the movie.

Anne mentioned that if we wanted to, we could head to the theater when we were at her folks' for the weekend and see Transformers. You can see why I love this woman. We went to the theater, paid way too much for two people going to see a movie, grabbed our pop and our seats, and prepared for the movie.

First, the good. The special effects were really, really good. There wasn't any "out of place" effects where the actors don't seem to be part of the special effect that I noticed, which is a feat in and of itself. There was a slight nod to the sound of the transforming the first time that we saw a vehicle change in to robot form which I greatly appreciated considering how many times I mimicked that noise on my own. Then there is the voice. I would have boycotted this movie if Peter Cullen wasn't the voice of Optimus Prime. Any other voice commanding the Autobots under the name Optimus Prime would have been a travesty of epic proportions. I got goosebumps when he said "Autobots, roll out." They need to get a recording of Cullen doing every possible sound in the English language so that he can always be the voice of Prime. Nothing else will do. The human characters did an admirable job in the "I'm shocked by this car turning in to a giant robot" category. Also, they served as good comic relief in appropriate places. The director, Michael Bay, seemed willing to embrace the "cheese" of the animated series which was actually welcome from a nostalgic point of view.

Now, the bad. The plot seemed to skip forward in several different places such that I felt like we missed something. Some characters just seemed to be abandoned without seeing the ultimate resolution of their plot lines. The fight scenes felt too brief. I wanted to see Prime lay some smack down over a few minutes. Also, during the battle scenes, it was sometimes hard to determine which giant robot was which. They seemed to mesh together at different times.

This is a movie that is crying, screaming, yelling, and begging for a director's cut. For me, Lord of the Rings: The Fellowship of the Ring did not feel complete until we received the extended version. I think the same is true for Transformers. I want the holes in the story to be filled. I want to be able to watch the giant robots pummel each other for more than 30 seconds at a time. I want there to be an educational section at the end to close the show with someone saying "Now I know!" and to have someone respond "And knowing is half the battle." Oh, wait. Wrong '80's cartoon show.

Final verdict: Very good, but not awesome action movie. Four out of five energon cubes.

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Crisis of Conscience

It's gotten to the point that I'm pretty much morally opposed to paying for content on the internet. One of the whole thoughts behind the internet was the quick, free exchange of thoughts and ideas. That philosophy has mostly carried forward as the internet has added users and services at a breakneck pace. What was once text has become graphics. What had been typing back and forth to a friend has become talking as clearly as on the phone and, if you have enough bandwidth, seeing the person to whom you're talking. What was having everything freely available, has become registering with the site or even paying for the access to the content. That has always bothered me.

There has been only one time that I have paid for content on the web. It's when I became a member of Consumer Reports as we were about to buy our house and were going to be purchasing everything that you need to get when you first have a home (appliances, lawn mower, grill, mini van - the necessities). I justified it by deciding that they provide a very valuable service to consumers and don't accept any advertising from companies to ensure that there is no question about their objectivity. Also, this proves that I'm a hypocrite. But I'm OK with that now.

Recently, however, I was faced with a dilemma. One of the websites that I have flat-out refused to pay for their content is the ESPN website. Sure, they have the majority of their articles up for free (thankfully, this includes the Sports Guy), but they also have their "exclusive" (read: pay for it) content as part of their "Insider" accounts. Mostly, it comes down to the fact that they've scoured the websites of local papers and provide it as "inside" information for the teams about which you may be interested. However, they also have their scouting reports for the drafts (NFL and NBA being the big ones to me) and other information about the teams from some of their columnists. At least, that's what they say they have. I've never actually looked since, like I mentioned, I don't pay for content, so I'm not an insider. I did, however, recently become a subscriber to ESPN the Magazine. I was disappointed that I missed the promotion that would have bundled my subscription with a month's supply of ESPN the Toilet Paper and ESPN the Bedsheets (thank you, Mel Brooks), but I was happy just to get the magazine. Interesting articles, good pictures of some of the biggest events, and even a page dedicated strictly to Mike and Mike. All things considered, pretty cool stuff. Then, in my latest issue of the magazine, I noticed a little blurb that stated that if I was an ESPN the Magazine subscriber, I also could get an Insider account for free. Now, I'm in a quandary. I'm opposed to the idea of paying for content on the internet, and if I used Insider, isn't that a tacit endorsement of paying for the content? At the same time, they already have my money, and they are, in essence, giving me Insider as an added bonus. It might not seem like a big deal, but to me, it kinda sorta is.

So, do I go ahead and use the service that's being provided to me? Do I stand on my perceived moral high ground? It's an interesting question (to me) with, really, no actual ramifications. After all, I've already admitted that I'm a hypocrite.

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Upon Further Review: Ocean's Twelve

I can tend to be very critical of movies. Especially sequels of movies that I really enjoy. For instance, see my opinion on the two Matrix sequels. With the advent of a new summer and, subsequently, a new round of summer sequels, this issue came to a head again. One of the movies that we were interested in seeing (if for no other reason than completeness) was Ocean's Thirteen. We had seen the first two, so we figured that we should probably see the third. I should point out that both Anne and I really enjoyed the first one. I loved the pacing. I loved the twists. I loved the cast. Then we saw the second one. I thought that it was horribly unbelievable. I know, I know, the first one wasn't exactly believable either, but that's not the point.

The entire movie seemed to hinge on the very flimsy premise that they were able to get things completely in place pretty much before the main story even started. And it was all mainly a ploy anyway. All things considered, it was a fairly disappointing movie to me. After we watched the third movie, I had pretty much the same reaction as I did following the third pirates move: it was better than the second one. Anne, not letting me rest on making a blanket statement like that, asked the obvious question: "Why?" Nuts. I wasn't prepared for that. Now, I have to defend my position, and to be perfectly honest, all I had was my memories of the impressions that I had of the movie instead of any actual remembrance of the "why." I mentioned this to a friend of mine at work, and he had said that he felt the same way after seeing Ocean's Twelve, but that "it gets better after watching it again." Since we really didn't have any memories of the second movie, we figured that we should get the first two and watch them again. I somehow made it through a full-screen version of the first movie (I'm kind of a jerk when it comes to movies, in case you haven't noticed. I need to watch the wide-screen, or it drives me nuts), and then we came to watching Ocean's Twelve again. I have to say that my friend was right. Perhaps I was simply paying closer attention this time around. Or maybe it was a case of wanting to pay closer attention this time. Either way, it seemed to make more sense. As such, I enjoyed the movie more. Is it better than the first one? No. Is it better than the third? No. However, it's now closer than it was before. I guess that's something.

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500 v. 0.7

The instructor looked to where Derek was supposed to be found. Instead, he saw nothing there. The spheres were gone. Derek was nowhere to be seen. And there was another bird missing.

The instructor sighed. "I don't think that his father is going to take this very well," he said to the empty room.

************

Derek's brain started taking stock of his situation. He felt very odd, although he knew that, for some reason, he ought to be feeling very dead. It then occurred to him that perhaps feeling dead meant that you felt very odd. He would have to test that hypothesis some day. If he wasn't already dead, of course. Otherwise, the point was moot. It was then that he realized that his eyes were still closed. He inverted that situation. The first thing that he saw was a yellow ball over his head. Hmm. A main-sequence, medium-sized star. How utterly boring.

His mind tried to piece together some form of what had happened. He was following his instructor's orders, just like always. He was about to attach the connector to siphon off the Resheph. Since it had been a double conversion, that amount of energy would have powered everything for at least a year. The bird got loose. He had reached for the bird. Now he was here, under some very warm--but quite boring--yellow star. But that star was suddenly blocked by a shadow.

"You OK?" a small voice was asking him.

"Of course I'm fine." Another oddity: His voice sounded different. Maybe it was some backlash from the bird hitting the energy.

"You don't look fine," the voice continued. "Otherwise, why would you by lying down on the ground?"

The ground. That explains why he was staring up at the yellow ball. "I wanted to take a nap."

"Mama says that if you want to take a nap, you should go to your own room."

"I'll keep that in mind next time."

The voice giggled and the blockage of the star was gone. Finally, some peace to think.

He had been reaching for the bird. There shouldn't have been much danger from the Resheph, just a slight shock. After all, the Neshef had been completely condensed out of the sphere, hadn't it? What if it had not?

"You all right there, buddy?" A new blockage of the star. This time, larger and with a deeper voice.

"Why do people keep asking me that? I'm fine. Go away."

"'Fraid I can't do that. You're blocking the sidewalk. You need to move somewhere else."

Derek was getting annoyed. "I am perfectly comfortable right where I am. You shall now leave."

"Seriously, you need to move. We can't have you laying there. You're a hazard to others. Now let's move it along. Right now."

"Don't you know who I am?" Derek screamed.

"Of course I do, Frank."

End of introduction.

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Give Me a Break

Life has been busy and tiring lately. Part of the tiring half of that is my own fault. I have a tendency to stay up much later than I should, including Thursday game night. You see, some years ago, Anne and I made a decision that each of us needs to have some time each week to ourselves. With Anne currently being a work at home mom, she especially needs time away from the children, as her job doesn't currently accrue vacation time, though there have been rumors of a union starting to organize.

Anyway, every Wednesday night I'm in charge of the kids while Anne gets to head out of the house or go upstairs and watch a movie or whatever. The biggest thing is that I'm in charge of the kids, and she's not needing to be concerned with them at all. At least in theory. My night is Thursdays. I'm a natural home body. My idea of a great vacation is a few days away from work and sitting around the house doing as little as possible except for spending time with family, reading, and doing stuff on the computer. It stems from when I was growing up, and we had dairy cattle so we couldn't go anywhere. So when Thursday nights come around and the kids are in bed, I make my way to the computer. It started with just myself, but then I realized that Frederick III might have free nights as well. Or at least that the kids might be in bed over there. I called him up, investing a few cell phone minutes. He was interested. After a couple of weeks of playing Diablo II, F3 had the suggestion of including his brother-in-law in the game as well. Through the magic of Skype, we were able to talk and socialize while enjoying the cathartic experience of smacking pixellated creatures with a virtual mace. A good time was had by all. We've since added another of F3's brothers-in-law. He currently only has one BIL that isn't playing with us. Which is fine with me. See, I've known his BILs prior to their joining the game, so it's all good. Let's hope that's the last time that I use the phrase "it's all good" in my writing. Ever.

Since we don't start until after 9 (9:30 if F3 is running late) and we want to get some good, quality gaming time in, we usually play until about midnight. Or so. We thought that we'd have a hard cap of midnight, but it's really turned into a soft cap. The big thing is getting to a good stopping point so that we can pick up very easily next time.

What's the point? Time to unwind. Time to spend with friends. More importantly, it's so that I get more time with my family. That might initially seem counter-intuitive, but you need to understand my personality. Before having that definite time to play games, a hobby that I've enjoyed since we would go to Pizza Hut and I'd play their Pole Position game, I'd try to sneak away for a few minutes here and there whenever I could. This meant that I had less time to spend with family. I have a personality that takes things that I like to excess. This way, I know that I'm going to have time to play games for an extended period of time, so I don't have to worry about sneaking it in when I should be spending time with my family.

I highly recommend doing something like this in any marriage. I know that it's helped ours.

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500 v. 0.6

Immediately after the final quarter-turn on the second set of knobs, the room filled with a deafening silence. At that precise moment, there was a pulse of white light so brief and so intense, one might not even be able to differentiate it from a blink.



Derek looked up to find both birds suspended in midair, surrounded by a familiar sphere of translucent blue energy he had only previously seen in textbooks.




He stepped away from the control station, jaw slightly dropped, and fought the urge to reach out and grab one of the spheres. He had enough training time to remember that while you could only see the blue energy, there was an invisible sphere of energy around the orb that was quite unstable, and if it was disrupted, it would send a shockwave through whatever organic substance touched it so powerful that it would completely vaporize it. Then there would be no unfortunate ash heap.



“Well done,” the instructor calmly encouraged. “Well done indeed. We haven’t had two Resheph Spheres contained in this lab for three lunar years. Stand there while I start the condenser to stabilize and dissipate the Nesheph layer.”



Resheph and nesheph were the aptly named layers of energy that created the blue spheres that held the birds suspended in time. They were terms from the old language adopted into the current era of technology and science. Defined, the root sheph literally means "light." "Good Light" and "Evil Light" respectively is how the Ancients would interpret the terms. Anything in the physical world that could be seen was good, and anything in the physical world that could not been seen was considered evil, or deceptive, if you will.



These things in science needed some term to describe them, and silly as they sometimes came out, the old language was rife with words that nobody used anymore.



A small pole lowered from the ceiling over each one of the daises. Mounted on the end of each one of the poles was a small inverted pyramid of condensed carbon. The condenser attracted the Nesheph layer of energy, focused it on the carbon pyramid, and dissipated it in small, focused sparks of light--much like a sparkler looks like on the Fourth of July, but at a slightly slower pace.



Not realizing how close he was to the remaining bird specimens, Derek removed his safety goggles to wipe some sweat from his brow. As the hand with the recently removed eye protection swung to his side, the elastic strap from the goggles caught one of the jars and knocked it to the floor. The glass shattered and the bird took off in flight to make a quick escape directly over one of the Resheph spheres.



“Nooooooooooooooo!!!!!” was all Derek could shout as he reached for the bird. The sparkler stopped. The room seemed to distort as the Nesheph pulsated spastically.



The instructor looked up from the controls in the small room where he had been operating the Nesheph Condenser.

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