smacky and bucky

I passed! That's what I feel like screaming when the dentist says he sees no cavities and let's me go for another six months. I feel like I need to make an awards show speech. In and out in less than half an hour, and dental insurance covered it all. Yay!

I'm reading I, the Jury now. See previous post on Mickey Spillane. I found a cheap paperback copy in a used bookstore. It was the only book of his they had. The cover boasted "Over 82 million copies of Mickey Spillane's books have been sold!"

My first thought: Holy crap, that's a lot of books!

My second thought: Why can't I find any used copies then???

It appears that in Mickey Spillane's heyday, people bought the cheap paperbacks for a quarter, or 35 cents, read them, and dumped them in the trash. Bummer. If you see any cheap copies of his books in paperback, shoot me a comment, okay? Amazon lists a ton of options, but spending over $3 on shipping negates the joy of any deal. I know if I stumble across the right used bookstore, I'll find them all for $1 each. I just have to be patient.

I watched a show on A&E last night on the last hour of flight 11 (the first plane to hit one of the towers). It included a number of facts I had not known. The next program was a TV movie about flight 93 (the one that crashed in Pennsylvania). Forgive me if I'm getting these flight numbers wrong. I'm bad with numbers (and names too, but that's another story). I watched the first minute of that one and turned it off. The facts of that day are dramatic enough. I don't think we need to dramatize the events. Why? To make it more emotional? How could it get MORE emotional? I understand that humans use drama (semi-fictional recreations) in order to cope with events, to sort them out, to give them meaning. Maybe in another 5 or 10 years we'll need it, to show a new generation what happened. But even then, I think the truth is always going to be more powerful than actors playing the parts (in the case of the events of that particular day).

Watched Into the Blue over the weekend. Basically a redo of The Deep, but with jet skies. In fact, I purchased those two movies bound together in cellophane for $20. Savvy, Wal-Mart. Savvy. Jessica Alba in a bikini. Underwater.

I also watched Escape from New York with my father-in-law. He hadn't seen it before! He picked it from a random selection of movies beside the TV, so he wanted to watch it. That movie is the culmination of John Carpenter's work. He made some good movies after that (Big Trouble in Little China, The Thing), but he also made some crap (too many to list).

Dentist this afternoon. Fingers crossed: no more payments due, in money or pain.

I believe my comment to Kate's weekend post is actually longer than this entry, so consider my comment there part two of today's post and read it HERE.

Addition: Just received the image of this book cover in an email. Fits what I was talking about above:

It's the newest title from Hard Case Crime. They publish a mix: new books from current authors and "lost" books from the '40s and '50s. Titles out of print for over half a century. The books are very noir, with tough guys, double-crossing dames, and shady deals all around. Great stuff. Check out there complete list of titles (and awesome book covers) here.

Worked nine hours yesterday (6:30 am--3:30 pm), in order to leave an hour early today. Flex time rocks.

Looking forward to relaxing at the river this weekend. My wife asked, "When do you not relax?" She has a point, but I think I just have a fantastic attitude about work. I do my job, and do it well, but when I leave, I don't think about it until I return the next day. This is the exact opposite of my last job (3 years ago now, wow) when I couldn't sleep because I was so worried about the next day, and when I did sleep I ground my teeth and my jaw ached every morning. It just wasn't worth it. I really enjoy my job, and find it interesting, but it's what I do during the week, and not all that I am. Two things I've come to realize about life and identity (Lauren, if you're reading this, take notes, because it definitely applies to folks in college):

(1) Your identity is not what you do as a job (unless you're job is just completely extreme, like televangalist, or special forces sniper). It's just what you do 40+ hours a week. Really, that's all it is. I don't mean that you don't enjoy your job, or are not passionate about it. Just that, there should be more to you than what you do. One reason getting fired can be so devastating sometimes is that if you tied your identity to your job, and suddenly you no longer have that job, who are you now?

(2) Your identity is not what you own. I see so many people (like my wife's father) commuting over an hour each way to go to work. Some commute over TWO hours. Each way. The reason is often because they can afford a larger home out in the suburbs. I consider commuting time as time working. If I didn't work, I wouldn't be doing the commute, so for people like my wife's father, the 1.5 hour commute makes it an 11-hour workday. That's nearly half of the entire day. Add in time for things you need to do to get ready to go to work (shaving, for instance) and it's another hour, making it exactly half the day. In the winter, that means every minute of daylight is spent either in the office or on a train. That's no way to live.


Take a moment this weekend to look at the sky. Take a deep breath. Stretch.

Poor Charlie. Last night's episode of Lost was a "show" and not a "tell." The sort of episode where the character's freaky actions will make sense in a month, when he's proven right. Of course, in the meantime, he actually got his ass beaten by Locke. So much for philosophy. This was "the zen of fists."

I'm working an extra hour today in order to leave an hour early tomorrow. Which is good, because I have a lot to do today! Read over a proofreader's comments on a manuscript (the guy I mentioned Monday...) and finish editing another chapter and a half of another manuscript. Should keep me out of trouble.

Oh, I found this deal on the internet(s): Apply code 89500 to receive 60% off gift certificates at Restaurant.com for your local restaurants. They have $25 gift certificates for $4 after coupon. Some restrictions apply. You can search restaurants by your zip code. I bought $75 worth of gift certificates and it came to $15. Look for a nice place near you and you can take your honey. If they're impressed by you being thrifty, tell them about the deal. If they're not impressed with thriftiness, impress them with the nice restaurant you picked and slip the certificate to the waiter on the way to the bathroom.

I let the dog out this morning, and stood in the backyard looking up at a little sliver of a moon. Of course, the first thing that entered my mind was, "That's no moon. That's a battle station."

Question: If Kirk Cameron is a big Christian, going so far as to get the girl that played his fiance on Growing Pains fired because she posed in Playboy, why did he hang out for a decade with someone named Boner? Did it make him feel really uncomfortable, or did he not get the irony?

One of the books I worked on is highlighted on a major government website. I know it's probably silly to be so cryptic, but if I come out and say it, it becomes a target of search terms, and I'd still prefer to be anonymous among coworkers. It's still a pretty cool thing though, so I thought I'd share.

I think I'm just tired this morning, but it feels like depression. I think I'm too Type B sometimes. My new freelance proofreader wrote me this morning and said he feels the manuscript I sent him may need more copyediting than proofreading, and my initial reaction was to take it personally and mutter "Fuck you, ass." It's a compendium of previously published articles from one of our journals, and the journal style differs slightly from our book style, but I still take it personally when someone points out something like that, even if he means it in a completely innocent manner.

I told him to mark the ones that bug him the most, but to leave the majority of them be. Dick.

I stayed up until midnight last night watching The Girl Hunters on Turner Classic Movies. The hook that pulled me in is that it's a Mike Hammer movie staring Micky Spillane as the lead character. In case you don't know, Micky Spillane is the author of the Mike Hammer novels. Beyond Stephen King making cameos in some of his movies, I can't recall another instance of an author staring in a film adaptation of one of his books. He wasn't bad in the role of the alcoholic former P.I. He got clubbed in the back of the head FOUR TIMES in the first 41 minutes of the film. Permanent brain damage, anyone? In one big fight near the end, he had promised the FBI guy that he wouldn't kill the Russian spy, so after they beat the crap out of each other, he takes a spike and a hammer and nails the spy's hand to the floor. Then he calls the FBI and tells them to come get the guy. Damn! He also figures out the woman he had been falling for is also a Russian spy, so he tells her he knows what she's been doing, knowing she'd grab the shotgun and try to kill him. But he's smart, so he had plugged the end of the shotgun with hard dirt. When she pulled the trigger, it backfired and blew her face off. They didn't show that part, but earlier in the movie he had commented that if it happened, they'd be picking up pieces of her face with needle-nose pliers. Not very subtle foreshadowing.

Fri-Deeee! Planning on a relaxing weekend. Lola has to go to a baby shower in a town 1.5 hours away on Saturday, so I'll likely spend the day with the DVD player.

I promise not to drive this into the ground, but I really enjoy the show Lost. I would likely enjoy discussing it with other people too, but there's a problem: I don't know of anyone in my office that watches it and my wife doesn't watch it. And online forums? They're good for reading sometimes, but most of the ones I've seen are either populated by groups of teens typing in "hipster" slang that makes you ill to read, or every comment made is followed by a "more knowledgeable than thou" guy saying "GOD! WE'VE ALREADY DISCUSSED THAT. SEARCH THE FORUM BEFORE YOU POST!" So I tend to avoid the idiocy.

So, once again, iPod saves me. I searched podcasts, and found some good ones. The Official Lost Podcast is run by ABC, and features interviews with the show's actors and writers, and clips from the show. The audio is crystal clear too. I also found a fan-run called Lostcasts. Two guys scour the media for clues and theories. And they aren't idiots or hipsters. Plus.

Oh, the other evening my wife came home and said one of her headlights was out. I checked it out and drove to the auto parts store to buy a replacement. The store is about 20 minutes away, with evening traffic. Returned home and replaced the bulb, which takes about five minutes since they're designed to be changed by Keebler elves. Whose hand is tiny enough to fit in there?

Anyway, I changed the bulb and turned on the headlights. As I walked around to the front of the car and checked out my handiwork... the other headlight winked out. It died right in front of me! What are the freaking odds? So I had to get in my car and drive 20 minutes again to buy a second bulb. The sun has now completely set, so I need to use one hand to hold a flashlight. Returned and replaced that bulb, cutting a knuckle in the process. The entry to this headlight bulb was even tighter than the other side. The Keebler elf would be pissing and moaning if I had made him do it, so he just stood there and mocked me, eating Grasshoppers.

So, in answer to the timeless riddle, How many people does it take to change a (car) light bulb, the answer is ONE, but it takes an hour and a half, once you factor in driving to the store twice, and installing them in the dark.

Memo to a fictional character on Lost:

Jack, I know you're the caretaker of the crash survivors. And I don't think I'd trust hillbilly "Zeke" when he tells you to stay on your side of the island and everything will be okay. But if you need to train an army... Is Anna Lucia the best person to ask? I know she's a pariah among the castaways, but that's because she killed Shannon! So she killed one of the "others." ONE. So far, she's killed as many of your friends as she has your enemies. Not great stats, Jack. Heck, Mr. Eko killed more of the "others" with his bare hands. Where was he last night? Wandering around with his Jesus stick? I want to see Locke and Eko cutting through the "others" like Jedi through droids. You want Rose or Hurley walking through the jungle with a loaded gun? Also, why did Anna Lucia apparently set up her camp at the grave of the person she killed? How are people ever going to forgive and forget if she sleeps beside the grave? Is this an act of atonement, or does she simply not give a shit what people think? In closing, sorry about your wife leaving you. She's right though. You do have a Florence Nightingale complex. And forget about Kate. She's with Sawyer. Best wishes, Smacky.

In more real-world news: Deep Discount DVD is having a sale. This one is tempting, with 40% off all Criterion DVDs. These are the fancy expensive ones with all the bells and whistles, like documentaries, director's commentaries, essay books, etc. I received the Criterion edition of Ran for Christmas from one of my sisters-in-law. The details on that movie:

For his 27th film, the "sensei" of Japanese cinema, Akira Kurosawa, transposes Shakespeare's KING LEAR to feudal Japan. RAN, which translates as "chaos" or "turmoil," is the tragic tale of Lord Hidetora, a warlord who decides to divide his empire among his three sons on the eve of his 70th birthday. However, Hidetora's youngest and most compassionate son, Saburo, defiantly objects to this hasty decision and is disowned by the proud, stubborn ruler. Once the two eldest sons take control of the empire, they quickly turn on their father and begin vying for total control over the land. As Hidetora is banished from his own kingdom in a bloody battle, he must confront the consequences of his violent, ruthless past. Ten years in the making, RAN represents the culmination of Kurosawa's career by revisiting his skill at adapting Shakespeare, as evidenced in THRONE OF BLOOD, and displaying the cinematic splendor of his other landmark films such as SEVEN SAMURAI and RASHOMON. With its magnificent costumes, breathtaking settings, and amazingly photographed battle sequences, the film is truly stunning. An epic on the grandest of scales, RAN is not only one of Kurosawa's finest films, it is a glorious masterpiece of Japanese cinema.

I also own the Criterion edition of Rushmore, which beats the pants off the bare-bones version. If I had unlimited funds, I'd make quite a few purchases. They have 17 pages of Criterion DVDs on sale!

Quoting Men at Work.


Flying. I don't care much for it. I love the concept, and it sure beats driving and boats for trips longer than 1,000 miles, but the average coach seat causes claustrophobic feelings in everyone, and the recycled air gives half the passengers sinus infections. Also, I am the poster boy for random searches. Kate thinks she gets singled out for "dark hair/dark eyes/olive complexion." Well, if that's true, I'm the other end of the spectrum. I'm the one they pull out of line so if an Arab complains about profiling, they can point to the white guy with blonde hair and blue eyes with his shoes off, his belt undone, and his arms streched out... getting patted down while they dig through his luggage, pawing his underpants (the ones in the bag, not the ones on his body, thankfully).

At my last job I flew about once a month, up to New York, or across the country. Pre 9/11, no problem. It was as easy as riding a bus. Post 9/11... They must have a secret mandate against me, as I get pulled EVERY TIME. Two months after 9/11 I was returning from a neuroscience conference in San Diego, and two of us got pulled aside for a random search. The other person? Erik Kandel, who had, two weeks earlier, picked up the NOBEL PRIZE FOR MEDICINE. He was a celebrity at the conference, and now they're rooting through his bag. Look at his picture. He looks like the cousin of Orville Redenbacher. In fact, let's compare:

Kandel... Redenbacher

Could either of these men threaten you?

So, Spike TV has the rights to rerun CSI, and they do, at least three times a day. I watched one of the episodes on Tuesday, about the man who liked to act like a baby, was given an LSD enema, and dove off the balcony. Last night on CBS, the episode was... the same one. I didn't realize Spike was all the way up to airing episodes from this season. How 'bout that?

My boss gave me a gift certificate to a book store, and yesterday I picked up The Magus, by John Fowles. I've been wanting to reread this novel since college. The ending is ambiguous, on purpose, so I don't suppose it will spoil it if I tell you that. I want to include this item I just found on www.fowlesbooks.com:

In response to a gentle letter from a New York lawyer, dying of cancer in a hospital, who said he very much wanted the couple to be reunited, Fowles wrote back, "Yes, they were." On the same day he got a "horrid" letter from an American woman who angrily demanded, "Why can't you say what you mean, and for God's sake, what happened in the end?" Fowles replied curtly: "They never saw each other again."

That's awesome.

While I'm at it, here's a link to The Random House list of the best English-language novels of the 20th Century (on which you'll find The Magus). How many have you read? (Damn, this seems familiar. Am I stealing an entry by Kate from six months ago???)

I've read... geez, I don't feel like counting. Fewer than you imagine someone with an M.A. in English would have read. I've seen movie versions of many of the ones I haven't read, though, if that counts.

Someone who helped compile that list has a crush on Joseph Conrad.

Lost continues to tie up loose ends, bind characters together, and generally kick ass. The hobbit now faces a BIG temptation, while Mr. Eko finds a little closure on a dark part of his past.

In unrelated news, I just flopped into my office chair, and the chair rolled into the desk, smashing the tip of my pinkie between them. OUCH!

One more day, then a three-day weekend. (Sigh of bliss...)

Listening to Bush Doctor by Peter Tosh. I think it's his most melodic album, his least angry, and the one least covered in a haze of pot smoke. The album includes (You Gotta Walk) Don't Look Back, his duet with some white guy named Mick Jagger. Don't know what became of that guy. Singing with Peter Tosh must have been the peak of his career.

We're doing some new year cleaning and organizing at chez Smacky and Lola, emptying some straggler boxes that mocked us for most of 2005. I have a box of "second tier" CDs I need to sell, trade in, or whatever. These are CDs I like, but did not put on my iPod due to space limitations. Well, since I received the new iPod for Christmas, I now have four times the space available, so I said "what the heck," and added 146 songs last night. Elvis Costello, the Smiths, Peter Tosh, Django Reinhardt, and Poe (the band with the female singer, not the Baltimore poet of the same name) were called up to the majors. Now I'm floating through memories of when these songs meant enough to me to consider them first tier. It's good to have them back. I've reclaimed them from obscurity. Of course, I'm still going to sell them, or trade them in. Sorry.

I was just thinking about "ASDF JKL;" and how it's one of the last carryovers from the days of the typewriter. In my freshman year of college, I had a new electric typewriter. It was fancy because it had an auto-erase function, eliminating the need for White Out. White Out is a correction fluid that was used to paint over typing errors. It was invented by the mother of Michael Nesmith, the singer/guitarist for the Monkees, the American version of the Beatles. Got that? The patent was sold for millions of dollars decades ago, making Michael Nesmith the richest former Monkee by millions of dollars. It also ensured that he didn't have to take part in any of the reunions they did in the '80s. Got that? I believe they still make White Out, but I can't imagine why.

My sophomore year of college I moved up to a Tandy computer. No internet connection (this was 1991) but it used floppy disks and a dot matrix printer. Today's coffee makers probably have a microchip with more memory than that computer.

In fact, I didn't have internet connection at all as an undergrad. I'm not sure when I first heard about it, but it wasn't something the college offered.

I suppose the irony of all this is that, as the youngest editor in my department, I'm perceived as the "go-to" guy for computer questions. I seem to know more than the others simply because I'm the closest to the epicenter of the birth of the computer age. And even I missed it by at least five years. My nephews were online at an age when I was playing with legos in the basement. It's a different time.

I'm always a fan of adding weird flavors to sodas, so I picked up the new Coca Cola Black Cherry Vanilla (wanted the diet, actually, but they were sold out.) I'm opening it now, so let's see if it's a winner:

Smell: I smell the black cherry, with a hint of vanilla. So far, so good.

Initial Taste: First taste is like regular Coke. I'm not used to the sugar-infused kind anymore, as I did the math and realized I could drink 150 diet sodas to one regular and it was a no-brainer, so the sugar may be throwing me.

Second taste: Much stronger black cherry taste. MUCH STRONGER. That's more like it.

Third taste: Vanilla aftertaste. How do they do that?

Overall: This is a heavily flavored soda, and as such, requires a commitment. I have high hopes for the diet version of this, however, so I'll let you know when I find it.


(Weekend was relaxing, obviously. We watched Must Love Dogs, which my wife got from Netflix. She loves John Cusack. The movie was "chicky," but could have been so much worse. Thumbs up as a rental.)

I also received the World Series of Poker game for Playstation 2 for Christmas, and I finally removed the cellophane and played a few tables of Texas Hold 'Em. It confirmed my belief that I will NEVER play poker for money. One time I beat all other players at the table and feel great about my abilities, then at the next table I go out in last place, losing $1,000 in a single hand. Fun game, but thank goodness I wasn't online playing for real cash.

This won't be a rant, just a list of things for which I do not understand the appeal...

(1) The music of Wilco and Radiohead.

Wilco. Why is "alt-country" so popular? Is the appeal that it's country without the mullets and half the twang of regular country? It's country-lite?

Radiohead. Are they brilliant? Many people think so. I can't invest myself in concept albums anymore. Time in college spent in a dark room listening to Pink Floyd's The Wall and Wish You Were Here cured me of that. I just want to hear a good song. I don't need them all interconnected by a theme too big for a pop song.

(2) The "fuck you others" side of religion.

I'm not going to make any broad generalizations, so don't get offended yet. But why can't people see the inherent personal insecurity in the extreme forms of religion around the world that look at others with distrust, smug superiority, and secret (or not-so-secret) hatred? Pat Robertson saying Sharon's stroke was a punishment from God... It's idiots like him that make me believe in the "watchmaker" theory of religion: God made the world, then let it go, looking in now and then to see what we're doing, but generally not bothering with the day-to-day workings of things. I would become a true believer if Robertson had a massive stroke of his own this weekend. That would be the sort of ironic justice I could get behind. The majority of people (I like to believe) are tolerant, but allow idiots like him to spew his hatred unchecked, looking on him with bemusement, like you would a crazy uncle that screams obscenities in the grocery store, as if Robertson can't help it. But he can help it, and I think, if there is some sort of "judgment" someday, you'll be judged as harshly as you judged others. That would be fair.

Here's a good place for a quote from Woody Allen's Hannah and her Sisters. Max von Sydow's character says it:

But the worst are the fundamentalist preachers. Third grade con men telling the poor suckers that watch them that they speak with Jesus, and to please send in money. Money, money, money! If Jesus came back and saw what's going on in his name, he'd never stop throwing up.

(3) The continued appeal of Tom Cruise.

Scientology beliefs and six-year-old antics on Oprah aside, who actually thinks this man is a decent actor? Playing the same character in every movie may be comforting, as you certainly know what to expect from a Tom Cruise movie, but it's not particularly interesting.

(4) The majority of SUVs

Yes, I'm going to sound like an enviro-hippy soccer mom hater, but why do so many people need the really big SUVs? You have one child, and you don't move pianos for a living, so what's the deal? Maybe you buy into the "safety" myth. Yes, if you are in an SUV and you hit a small car, the person in the car is more likely to be mangled, but in single car accidents, SUVs are no safer than cars, and likely less safe, due to their tendency to roll. Montgomery County, Maryland had a string of high school kids dying in single car accidents in the last year. It seemed like every weekend. And the number of those flipping SUVs was astounding. The parents bought them the SUVs thinking they were the safest things on the road.

That's all for today. Restrained, and not filled with hate. Just shrugging this morning.

My wife attended a Washington Networking event last night, and dragged me along with the promise of dinner after. Cash bar, free hors d'oeuvres, and all the shmoozing you can handle for up the three hours! We only stayed an hour, thankfully. This took place in a private room in the new Clyde's in Gallery Place, next to the MCI Center. Over 75 high-powered wheeler dealers talking up a storm and exchanging business cards. I'm an editor at a nonprofit, so while I could chat, I didn't have a lot to offer folks in the way of future business deals. Sorry.

I could actually see the moment when the person who approached me realized I wasn't worthy of the five minutes of chatting. It was usually two seconds after I told them what I did, and for which company. I tired to spare people and stand away from everyone, not making eye contact and pretending to study a painting of a horse. But I think that made me seem aloof, like I was so successful I didn't even need to be there, so people found me a challenge. I discussed IT and overseas markets in the face of intellectual property rights, financial investment, FAA regulations, and the controversy of teaching evolution (only the last one was a topic I brought up). My wife was able to saddle up to me when I was speaking to someone and make her move. The person speaking to me was always relieved to meet someone that might actually be worthy of their time. Yes, I was used, but it helped my wife, which directly helps me. So don't call me a whore! To quote Gob from Arrested Development: "An illusion, Michael. A trick is something a whore does for money. Or drugs."

I think my wife got about 30 business cards, so the evening was a success. Unfortuanately, dinner entailed possibly, no definitely the worst crabcake sandwich I've ever tried to eat. It tasted like it had been found washed up dead on the beach, stored next to a catfish at room temperature for an hour, then frozen, then thawed on a warm countertop, then frozen again, then cooked. Ugh. It actually gave me a headache, which was probably the mercury that had killed that poor crab in the first place.

Back at work, facing a new year. I'm already deep into the Spring season of books, with one with the authors for revision, one back from production in layout, and one new one I received a week before Christmas. Just changed the plastic-coated wall calendar, so I'm all set!

Oh, click on the pics in the last two posts to see the large versions. Sorry if you have a slow connection.

And to answer De: We have two cats: Buzz and Madeline, brother and sister. We got them together as kittens from the shelter. Buzz is big, and enjoys toy mice and laying on my lap for 14 hours a day (if I would sit still long enough for him to do that). Maddie is the small one, perpetually barely larger than a kitty, yet eats more than her brother. She's what's known as the "bad one." She tries to chew electrical wires, knocks over glasses of water, and is likely to be found on the counter or in the sink, knowing she'll get yelled at but not caring. I still love that little monster though. You never lose your attraction for the bad girls.

Finally, a short rant: Why is it that a robot can build the most complex machines, such as a car, or go to Mars, but men still have to dig coal out of the ground in the same manner as has been done since pre-industrialized society? Also, the limitations of print media were made abundantly clear once again, as the front page of the Washington Post announced 12 Found Alive in W.Va. Coal Mine. And if it's true the company waited three hours to correct that impression, someone should pay. People's fathers, sons, and fiances were dead, and they were told they were alive.

I was up at dawn one morning this past week, so I took this picture of the sun rising over the water. This is the view from our house at the river. In the far right of the picture, the river opens into the Chesapeake Bay.

My new digital camera has a strap. My cat wanted it. I documented the struggle. She lost, but it was close.