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Thursday, September 29, 2005
A job interview gone screwy is the subject of the latest Space Monkeys! comic, available... mmmm.... NOW!
Tuesday, September 27, 2005
Harlan vs Tycho & Gabe
Let's say you're a little kid and you really love the Care Bears. You really love them, for as long as you can remember. You're a fan of their work.
Then, as you get a little older, you start really getting into G.I. Joe. You watch the animated show every single day. You buy the toys when you have the cash to do so. It's something you identify yourself with. You're a G.I. Joe person.
One day, though, you're watching TV and you see a Care Bear and Snake Eyes doing a public appearance together and the pink Care Bear punches Snake Eyes right on the mouth. Then Snake Eyes shoots the Care Bear, tearing off his ear. Then they each walk off and give separate interviews calling the other one a fucking asshole.
And you're sitting there at home with your G.I. Joe hovercraft and your Care Bear throw pillow watching it and going, "What the fuck just happened?" Only you'd say "Fudge" because you're a little kid and your mom is there with you.
This, in a nutshell, is my feeling on the raging war of words between Harlan Ellison and Penny-Arcade.com after a geek convention where they were invited co-guests of honor. (Which any cheap charlatan could have foretold to be a bad idea.)
Monday, September 26, 2005
A fable, like the tortoise and hare, sort of
We were driving back from ACL Fest (wrap-up on that coming soon), when we stopped at the 7-11 to get one of the larger of the publicly available Gulps. Perhaps you've seen them; they come in large containers that can hydrate a car full of people, quenching thirst en masse like a sweet buff.
My car needed similar refueling, but as nice as the Prius is, it still can't quite run on Gatorade Fruit Punch.
So there I am, gas nozzle in hand, about to refill the Little Hybrid that Could when a blonde woman comes to me, weaving a bit, maybe just tired or a little drunk (Vodka Gulp?) and asks me if she can have a dollar for gas.
Without really thinking about it, I pull a buck from my pocket and give it to her, figuring the coupon I had for a free 32 oz. Big Gulp somehow reconciled this, karmically speaking. She took off with the dollar, went inside and came back out to assist her companion, who was pushing, along with some friends, a giant out-of-gas SUV.
I watched them huff and puff and circle the lot until they were within reach of petroleum sustenance. They put their dollar of gas into the bottomless tank, closed it off and peeled out of the parking lot and into the night.
It didn't occur to me until later the humor in a guy driving a Prius lending a woman with an SUV a buck for gas, but surely there is a lesson, or a commentary on the "Sign 'o the times" to be had in that story somewhere.
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