No [See]

Elizabeth Rose broke the "see" button on the laptop. I have no [see]. That la[see]k is a serious dis[see]ouragement to email-writing and blogging. But not enough of one to prompt me to buy a new laptop. Not even [see]lose.

That's the main reason I haven't posted in three months. For instan[see]e, I really want to blog about signing Mom up for [See]lear, the Wi-Max internet provider. But how {see]an I write about that without persistent use of the broken letter?

So my thoughts turn to the blog-able phone: as before I was obsessed with getting a portable gaming-thing (DS) and later an Xbox, now my obsession has fo[see]used on smartphones (namely, the G1, iPhone, and Pre).

Already you [see]an see how irritating it is to work without the [see] key. So I'll stop.

What Is It?

 

What is this image? Did Elizabeth's blocks find their way to this world from another dimension, a dimension where this thing is a recognizable object? We have speculated: submarine, schoolbus, football helmet, ocean liner. But it doesn't really look like any of those. Of course not. When would you ever compare a football helmet to a submarine? Never.

Never in this world, at least.

Jasper!

As promised (to myself, not you, dear blogreader), I bought an Xbox 360 in January 2009. Given my needy house and ten-month-old daughter, it was perhaps not the smartest purchase. On the other hand, I made this stupid purchase as smartly as possible. First, as none of you know, the Xbox "Jasper" chipset recently debuted. It is supposed to solve the console's dreaded Red Ring of Death (see illustration). This so-called RROD is an indicator that the console has broken, and means you have to send it back to Microsoft for a time-consuming fix. This is by all accounts an extremely common problem. Microsoft spent a billion or so extending the 360's warranty to three years in an effort to bolster consumer confidence. It is a testament to this machine's awesomeness that people continue to buy it like crazy despite the horrible reliability rate. (Anecdotal evidence: my friend Jason Bowders, who is the biggest gamer I know, bought a 360 at launch and is currently on his third!)

Thank Zeus that Jasper came along just as I was getting ready to buy. Because there were pressures in both directions (i.e., buy and not-buy), and the existence of Jasper alleviated one of the not-buy pressures, tipping the balance toward buy.

Pressures to buy: 1) I love videogames and the 360 is the best console out there; 2) I had told myself last year when I "gave up" videogames (see previous posts describing my failures) that I would for sure buy a 360 in January '09; 3) My friend Dave Reis bought a 360 partially because I told him I would buy one, then he was diagnosed with two -- not one, but two! -- types of cancer.

Pressures to not-buy: 1) I'm a cheap bastard and the $200.00 price point is deceptive (see below); 2) Barb hates videogames and hates that I play them; 3) The 360 is an unreliable piece of crap and Microsoft sucks.

I read about Jasper and planned an elaborate strategy for making sure that I got one of the new, supposedly-reliable Jaspers and not the old-stock crapola Falcon. But, as often happens these days, plans went awry, twisted by the baby imperative, and I ended up just going to GameStop in the Lloyd Center and buying whatever random Xbox 360 Arcade they handed me. Fortune favored me, though, and I ended up with a Jasper.

Add to the bill two games (both with the idea of playing online with friends -- oddly enough, this whole Xbox thing is driven by social pressures). Cost: two bills for the box, fifty for game one, sixty for game two = $310.00. As my old pal Simon called Peter might say: "Fuck a duck!"

And that's just the beginning. Because the Arcade doesn't come with a hard drive. But you really need one to play online. Normally the 60Gb hard drive costs $100.00 (highway-fucking-robbery). But I found a refurbished 20Gb bundled with a refurbished controller for $40. (A new controller is $50!). Then I bought a 13-month Xbox Live membership for $30 (normally $50). Now our total cost for the $200 game system is $380.00.

That's a lot of money.

But it's also a bargain, since many of the suckers out there just buy the 360 Pro for $300 (includes 60Gb hard drive), then buy a new extra controller ($50) and a year of Xbox Live ($50) plus the two games, and they pay $510.00.

Here's the verdict: the games are crazy fun. The Xbox Live service is incredibly smooth and polished; I can't believe how easy it is to play online. The regular online gaming (in the game Call of Duty 4) isn't to my taste -- it's too hard, too competitve, and too random; but the other game I bought, Left 4 Dead, is my absolute ideal multiplayer game. It's as if the designers tapped into my dreams (well, nightmares -- we're talking zombie apocalypse here) and turned them into massively successful entertainment.

As Barb and I keep finding ourselves saying, the future is now.

A Poem by James P. Blaylock (for Anson)

"Beer, beer, beer.
"Never fear."

The Larrison Family Vacation

Barb and I take weird vacations. For instance, McMinnville, Oregon. What's in McMinnville, you ask? Not much. But we went there anyway. I'm still not sure why. Above is a picture from our recent trip to Baltimore. Okay, technically we went there because I had job-related training. But Barb and Elizabeth joined us to make it a family vacation. And Grampa Grumps and Grandma Susy came down from Long Island to amp up the family-ness.

In the picture above the happy family is on its way to a delicious, 10,000 calorie meal at The Cheesecake Factory.

Who needs Hawaii?

The Blackest Show on TV

Queer to be here in Baltimore, especially after watching three years of The Wire on DVD in the last few months. I'm in the schmancy Inner Harbor area, so no corner crews, jackboys, etc. Plenty of black folks, though. Which got me thinking about the aspect of The Wire that, to me, is the most striking and, in many ways, the most significant.

But first, a bit about my trip. I'm here for two weeks of Introduction to Leadership. It's interesting, kind of, but now that I'm writing about it, I'm bored. Nine hours a day of ITL is enough.

So, back to The Wire.

It's just that it's so black. For those not in the know (I'm thinking of you, Mom!), The Wire is an HBO-produced drama about police and drug-dealers in Baltimore, Maryland. It's been praised for it's sharp writing, great acting, and for the way it keeps all the characters human, not demonizing the drug-dealers, not sanctifying the cops. It's a really good show, though not the pinnacle of TV greatness that I was led to believe by all the press it received after the fifth and final season had wrapped.

But it is maybe the blackest show on television.

Now, I'm not talking Cosby Show-black. That's the kind of show where they cast more or less everyone black because it's trying to be a "black show." The Wire isn't a black show, it's just that most of the characters are black because it's set in Baltimore and most Baltimoreans (Baltimorons?) are black. The mayor, police commissioner, the major (of the Western district, 3rd season), the lieutenant, the homicide detective, the special-unit lieutenant, and four of the six regular cops from the special unit -- they're all black. Oh yeah, and let's not forget Clay Davis, the state senator. He's black, too. As are, of course, all the drug dealers and fifty percent of the main character junkies (Bubs' friend Johnny* being, pretty obviously, a token white).

I love the "diversity" of this show because it's not diverse. It's not Star Trek, God bless it, with it's ridiculously-multicultural-Cold-War-era bridge crew. The Wire isn't saying black people are this or that. It's just saying that, guess what, black people are. They're bad guys, good guys, they're politicians, cops, businessmen, teamsters, longshoremen, priests, ne'erdowells, junkies, freaks, drug-dealers, whores, bartenders, cabdrivers... you get the idea.

If I may paraphrase Charlton Heston in Soylent Green, "They're people! Black folks are... people!"

*Aaron speculated that Johnny was played by "that kid from 'Kids'." I checked it out, and he was right. (Thanks, IMDb!) Johnny The Junkie is fucking Leo Fitzpatrick from Larry Clark's infamous 1995 movie about out of-control AIDS-infected adolescents in NYC. I reviewed that movie for the Eagle Newspapers of upstate New York when I was 25. Christ, I was so much wiser then. My intelligence and wisdom actually peaked when I was 19, and knew everything. It's been all downhill from there as I discovered in the most painful ways possible that I wasn't, in fact, the smartest person in the world.

Book baby, book baby!

Elizabeth is now officially confirmed as the fruit of my loins. For one thing, she has a huge head. For another thing, she loves books, as evidenced by this picture.

Also notable in this picture is that she's on her knees. E.R. has been crawling around commando-style for a while now, but hasn't yet mastered the hands-and-knees method. However, she is learning how to lever herself up onto her knees for such favorite activities as pulling every boardbook off the shelf.

She's a good baby.

This Sunday I fly to Baltimore for more VA training. This time it's "Introduction to Leadership," as I am now a manager (guess I did an okay job on my KSAs). I'll be there Sunday to Friday solo, then Barb and Baby E. will fly in. Hopefully Grandma Susy and Grandpa Grumps will come down from Long Island to visit and eat crabs.

As I write this, I can hear Barb reading Goodnight Moon to Elizabeth in the bedroom. We've read that book countless times. It's really an amazing piece of art, but I'll have to delve into the depths of that book later, when I'm sitting lonely in the Baltimore Inner Harbor Marriott with half of a sixpack still left to drink.

Clothes, Lazlo.

Rather than shop for clothes, I have decided to blog about shopping for clothes. Here's the problem: I hate shopping. Most people I know might be surprised to find out that I actually kind of like nice clothes, although I don't own any. I think I've got good (if conservative) taste, I know a little bit about the rules of men's fashion, and I like wearing nice clothes and looking good. I just hate shopping. Plus, I'm cheap.

This is not a good combination.

On December 7th I've got to go to Baltimore, MD (Bodymore, Murderland, for fans of The Wire) for "Introduction to Leadership" training. I am expected to dress as a middle-manager in the government should dress -- meaning shirt and tie during the day, with a jacket (or, heaven forfend, suit!) for the post-training banquet. My Pierre Cardin suit is from Goodwill, not properly tailored, and is still spattered with mud from Aaron and Wendy's wedding five years ago. No go. My blazer is also from Goodwill. It's a traditional blue wool blazer, and it fits nicely, but I hate the shoulder pads. God I hate shoulder pads. Do all dress jackets have shoulder pads? I'll wear the damn thing in a pinch, but not comfortably, because I feel like a pin-headed frankenstein in those shoulder pads.

Shopping online is tempting, because you can be tremendously lazy, and sit in your club chair "shopping" while consuming the better part of a bottle of Chardonnay. That's what I've done tonight, and it's taught me what I already know: my tastes are boring as hell (love that Gap!), I'm too casual to be dressy, and I'm cheap (fifty-nine fucking dollars for a shirt!). The problem is, ultimately you don't know what you're getting, whether it will fit, etc. Therefore, the mall beckons.

Ugh.

The World Ends With Me

Back in July I wrote about the amazing complexity of the combat mechanics of my Nintendo DS game The World Ends With You. Pretty sure that blog entry was called Holy Effing Ess! The picture above shows the two screens of the DS that the player has to deal with. On the bottom is Neku, the main character -- the player's proxy (the slouchy kid with the red hair) -- whom you control with the stylus. Above Neku is character Shiki whom you control with the 4-way directional pad (see those arrows leading to the three different ESP-card symbols?).

It's an incredible achievement, this game, for a couple of reasons. One: the combat is so daunting as to appear impossible, but ends up being very possible even for a 38-year old geezer such as myself, after which it becomes superfun. To reiterate: the combat is really fun (not always the case in RPGs). You could play the game for the combat alone, and it would be worth the price of admission ($39.99, in case you're wondering).

But there's also a story to this game. TWEWY doesn't pretend to be "open ended" or "emergent" -- it's got a story to tell and it tells it; you're just along for the ride. But it's a good story. And it's not about High Elves and noble Paladins. It's about teenagers in Shibuya, Tokyo, Japan, dealing with survival, friendship, betrayal, fashion, and marketing -- all of which, with the possible exception of the former, are big deals to most teenagers in the moneyed world.

Barb hates videogames for no particular reason. The World Ends With You is the first game that made me really feel like she's missing out. It's a great work.

Plus, did I mention that it's fun as hell?

The One Billionth Blogger ...

...to say that I'm glad Barack Obama was elected president of the United States. I don't expect miracles from the guy. He's inheriting New Orleans post-Katrina. Bush has made a wreckage of the United States. I know some conservatives. I'm a recovering conservative myself. And I know that Bushloyal conservatives feel that he's being handed a raw deal by the media (note to self: blog entry on The Myth of the Liberal Media), but that history will look more kindly on G.W.Bush.

Ha! Ha!

It's a laughable idea, so I laugh. It's been said so many times that it no longer has any impact, but that doesn't make it less true: George W. Bush is stupid. He's not mentally-incompetent-stupid. I'm sure he could balance a checkbook. He can fly a fighter jet, for goodness sake. He's not a village idiot (bumper stickers notwithstanding). He's just a dumb guy. He's gullible. He's ignorant. He's narrow in scope. He's manipulable.

Most important: he's history. Fuck 'im. I'll leave his legacy to the historians, who will fill his chapter with debacle and devastation: Iraq, Gitmo, Patriot Act, Katrina, Credit Default Swaps, et al.

Still recovering from my conservative youth, I have to say that perhaps the worst thing that Bush has done is put us on the path to Socialism. Nationalized banks, government majority-owned insurance companies, and now General Motors coming to whinge at the federal hindtit? What the hell? My 18-year-old conservative self reminds me from the past: let the weak die. It's the natural order. If GM, Chrysler, or Ford aren't able to turn a profit making a product that almost every human on Earth wants, fuck 'em (if you'll excuse the continued thematic use of F-bombs). If I, as a taxpayer, am going to share in GM's loss, I better fuckingwell share in their profits.

Notice the anger?

As Trudeau asked recently in Doonesbury, what's the deal with nationalizing risk while continuing to privatize profit?