January 2005 Archives

Ah,the joys of upgrading the home stereo system. Been down a major rabbit hole for the past week, trying to get my new surround speakers working. ARRRGGGH.

I had a brief moment of triumph three days ago, when I hooked the two front speakers, the center channel and the subwoofer and rocked some Metallica - heh heh, heh heh ... bass is cool.

Then came the laugh a minute recabling of the TV, Tivo, amp, DVD player and VCR to take full advantage of the amp. Well, the good news is that picture and sound are happening. The bad news is, no center channel sound. *sigh*

Then came the realization that I'd never be able to configure the amp's surround functions without the remote, which has been AWOL since I lived in San Diego (that's two years-plus for you folks new to Lori Land). Where has it been, you ask? At first, I thought it was just lost in the move somewhere. Then, when I moved into my current place, I heard a little rattling in the couch when my sweet and burly buddies set it in the living room. I'd always "meant to" go hunting for the remote in the couch, but found I could make do without it.

Then the upgrade. So, tonight, I had to flip the couch on it's back, take the bottom liner clean off (and, ultimately, slit it open so I could reach into the weird, wooden frame neverland that the remote had found its way into), sew the liner back up after retrieving the remote, a compact, and a really cool lighter, and then enter into the futile attempt to get the surround setup correctly.

Ah well. These things are always, at their most uplifting, an exercise in logic and patience. I WILL BE VICTORIOUS!!!!

So how did I constructively spend my three day weekend? I'm pleased to report that I was finally able to fulfill a long time goal: to compile a comprehensive list of alternative names offered up for Reb Brown's character in the MST3k version of Space Mutiny. Why call him "Dave Ryder" when you can use:

Splint Chesthair
Butch Deadlift
Bridge Largemeat
Punt Speedchunk
Flint Ironstag
Bolt VanderHuge
Thick McRunfast
Blast Hardcheese
Trunk Slamchest
Fist Rothbone
Stump Beefknob
Smash Lampjaw
Punch Rockgroin
Buck Plankchest
Stump Junkman
Dirk Hardpec
Rip Steakface
Slate Slabrock
Crud Bonemeal
Brick Hardmeat
Whip Slagcheek
Punch Sideiron
Grissel McThornbody
Buff Hardback
Bob Johnson
Blast Thickneck
Crunch Buttsteak
Slab Squatthrust
Monk Beefbroth
Touch Rustrot
Reef Blastbody
Big McLargehuge
Smoke Manmuscle
Eat Punchleaf
Hack Blowfist
Roll Fizzlebeef

That's art, baby.

Now this is amazingly cool.

A Roman statue of Atlas -- the mythical titan who carried the heavens on his shoulders -- holds clues to the long-lost work of the ancient astronomer Hipparchus, an astronomical historian said on Tuesday.

It's so incredibly rare for a lost ancient artifacts are found again, it just makes me smile. Sick as it is, I'm still smarting over the burning of the library at Alexandria.

Who can forget Cintra Wilson's lyrical review of the Pitt and Aniston nuptials back in 2000?

The crucifixes were burning in the primitive Conquistador-era church Brad Pitt had transported stone by stone from the Yucatan Peninsula and reassembled. Incredible Eastern European prostitutes, naked except for thin white muslin robes, were "vestal virgins," guiding guests to their pews, French-kissing strangers as they sat down.

Aniston emerged and rode down the aisle on an albino ocelot that had been declawed and groomed by Frederick Fekkai for the occasion, wearing a Tang dynasty headdress, elaborately hennaed feet and Harry Winston nipple clamps. During the nondenominational ceremony, crisp, new money in large denominations poured from the top of the tent. Beautiful, sleek women laughed and chewed the bills like gum with their large and perfect teeth.

Check out the whole, sordid story here.

If you like what you read, may I enthusiastically recommend A Massive Swelling: Celebrity Re-examined as a Grotesque and Crippling Disease?

But, really, we have to just admit it: the SUV is hypocrisy incarnate. It is the perfect emblem for the American view, for our position in the world: gluttonous, vain, dangerous to almost everyone else on the road, mostly useless (over 85 percent of SUVs never see a dirt road, much less need 4-wheel drive), ugly as hell and as graceful or practical as a school bus on an ice-skating rink.

Matt Morford strikes again. Every time I'm in my car, I have to shake my head at the behavior of at least one land tank driver. May gas prices bankrupt the lot of you.

If you haven't seen "The Fog of War," I highly recommend it. The reflections of the 85 year old Robert McNamara are insightful, revealing, and, seemingly, candid. There are lots of varying opinions about the role McNamara played in the war in Vietnam, and the official website provides an overview of the controversy, including a fascinating editorial by the film maker, Errol Morris, regarding Eric Alterman's review of the film.

The cool thing is, the flick came on by chance tonight. I paused to watch the beginning, to get a feel for what it was about. Two hours later, I've watched the entire thing and feel the first stirrings of my activist self since November. I'm grateful.

Check it out. Eerie relevance to today's reality, and time well spent.

"The purpose of this memorandum is to inform you of the Army Reserve's inability under current policies, procedures and practices ... to meet mission requirements associated with Operation Iraqi Freedom and Enduring Freedom," Helmly wrote, using the military's names for the Iraq and Afghanistan wars.

"The Army Reserve is additionally in grave danger of being unable to meet other operational requirements," including those in classified contingency plans for other potential wars or national emergencies, "and is rapidly degenerating into a 'broken' force,"

Why does the Chief of the Army Reserve hate freedom?

Tip o' the tiara to Electablog.