Sounds Kinky

Movie Review: 300

noreply@blogger.com (Jim Drew) — Thu, 13 Nov 2008 19:02:00 +0000

I finally saw 300, via Netflix. I am soooo glad I didn’t see this one in the theaters.

One word sums up this movie: “juvenile”.

Disclosure: 300 is based on the comic book of the same name. When the comic came out, I bought the first issue, read it, thought “What a piece of crap”, and didn’t buy the second issue. My opinion of the comic has not changed since then, and the movie supports that feeling.

You know what would be cool? Lots of blood squirting everywhere. Like in that King Arthur movie, when the guy’s arms and legs come off.

You know what would be cool? Lots of symbolic, dramatic lighting, like everything is occurring at sunset or under a full moon.

You know what would be cool? A bottomless pit in the middle of the court of Sparta, with no railings or grating or cover, because, like, Spartans are so bad ass that they never slip, stumble, or fall.

You know what would be cool? If the dramatic scenes all had shit floating in the air to give it a dreamy quality. Snow, dust, pollen, whatever.

You know what would be cool? If all the Spartans went shirtless all the time and were like totally ripped. Dude, that would be gay, not cool! Oh, well don’t worry, they won’t ever touch each other, so it won’t really be gay. Just sorta.

You know what would be cool? If we added reverb and other modulation to the voices at their most dramatic moments. That would, like, totally help carry the symbolism through.

You know what would be cool? If we had a voiceover going through the whole movie, sometimes reiterating the action but usually just giving color commentary and saying poetic shit. And it would be way cool to — surprise! — make the voiceover be the story of the Spartans being told to others, to inspire them to fight crazy.

You know what would be cool? If the Spartans were so bad ass that even their allies thought they were crazy and would run away.

You know what would be cool? If there were all there dramatic, tension-filled conversations between the Spartans, full of pauses and deep brooding stares. Um, dude, you’ve gone into the gay zone again! Okay, we’ll have them break off the looks early, so no one could possibly think that there’s something gay going on.

You know what would be cool? If we did all the action scenes cutting in and out of slow-mo, so you could totally see all the sword cuts and tumbling bodies and splashing blood.

You know what would be cool? If the entire cast was men, just beating the snot out of each other. Dude, gay thing again! You need something with a woman, so we can get the chicks to let us see it. No problem, man: we’ll add a subplot with the queen, and she can have sex in it, too. She’ll be totally hot, and it will be rough, beating the snot out of each other sex. And if we have to trim the film to make it shorter, we can cut the subplot some, removing girl stuff and keeping all the bad ass fight scenes!

You know what would be cool? If this movie didn’t make me fear that the director’s upcoming Watchmen film will be more of the same.

Caught You!: Kymco Scooters

noreply@blogger.com (Jim Drew) — Tue, 28 Oct 2008 18:17:00 +0000

This is a page from the latest Kymco Scooters promotional booklet, about the Sento scooter. Each page of the booklet has a large cropped image of the scooter on the outside edge of the page — left, in this case — plus a couple smaller colors shots and specs for the vehicle.

Unfortunately, the Sento only has its name on the front left side of the scooter, while this page ended up as a left page, so the front right side would be shown in the large cropped image.

So to fix that, they took the front left side and flipped the image horizontally. This seems a perfectly reasonable thing to try, except that it reverses all logos, including the main Kymco logo — see the inset on the right — and it would reverse the Sento test logo as well. So what did they do? They apparently digitally removed (Photoshopped out) the Sento logo, and then pasted in a new, non-reversed copy. Except, as seen on the inset on the left, they didn’t get it at quite the right place — it’s too high, not angled right, and of course, the “S” should be closest to the headlight (hard to help that, though). All in all, a pretty lousy job, probably a rush.

The right answer, of course, would have been to move the Sento to a right hand page in the booklet, so they could have used a correct, unaltered image. Second best would have been to use a non-flipped image of the side without the Sento logo — so the Kymco logo wouldn’t be flipped and they wouldn’t have to remove the flipped Sento logo — and then just paste in the isolated Sento logo (at the right place and angle, of course).

Prototype for iPod commercials?

noreply@blogger.com (Jim Drew) — Tue, 28 Oct 2008 17:31:00 +0000

I caught this 1989 video from the Belle Stars over the weekend at a bar in Los Angeles:

Check things out just before the 2:00 mark. Silhouetted guy dancing wildly in front of neon color backgrounds? Hmmm, where have we seen that in recent years?

Just a curiosity, of course.

What Were They Thinking?: Meds for Cross-eyed and Possessed Pets

noreply@blogger.com (Jim Drew) — Tue, 14 Oct 2008 18:51:00 +0000

You probably saw these website ads early this year: when the mouse passes over the ad, it turns into a bone or a fly, and the dog or cat’s eyes follow it. Cute, huh?

At least until you move the cursor to extreme points — such as between the pet’s eyes — and the eye-tracking algorithm break, turning the pet into some hideous beast, either a cross-eyed cat that probably can’t aim to find its litter box, or a possessed pug (ugly enough to start with).

(Maybe the dog is having visions of the future and is about to paint? Or spray? Or spray paint? Where’s Mr. Muggles when we need him?)

Seriously, test your Flash ads before you deploy them.

Be careful out there…

noreply@blogger.com (Jim Drew) — Mon, 13 Oct 2008 20:44:00 +0000

Be careful out there, folks.
…In the rain.
…On slick streets.
…On hills and curves.
…Passing cars.
…With other cars changing lanes.
…At dusk.
…And all of these together.

Or you might end up on Columbian Way, passing a car to change lanes in front of it, and have another car zip off I-5 onto Columbian and cut right in front of you to change across two lanes.

Down goes the scooter, skidding on its side up the hill. (Here’s a map. It happened right about at the “S” in “Seattle Fwy”. Thursday, October 9, at about 6:15 pm.)

Down goes the rider, body surfing on the wet asphalt. Face down, feet first, uphill. Looking at the wheels of the car he just passed coming closer as the driver slams on his brakes. While the other driver just zips on up the hill and around the curve, maybe not even realizing anything happened.

Thank god for leather jackets and helmets, and for drivers who are on their toes and able to stop.

Clothing Damage

Wet pants and shirt (but nothing torn).
Half-dollar sized abrasion on the jacket’s left elbow, and other scrapes on that sleeve, but the wet pavement actually protected the jacket from other damage, I think.
Leather shoes have a lightly scuffed up right toe. I probably lifted my feet up during the slide.
iPhone in the front jacket pocket is fine.

Scooter Damage

Half-dollar sized scrape on the scooter trunk.
Small scrapes on other side bits.
Busted housing for right front blinker, but it still works.
Scraped aluminum from the right brake lever and the metal end of the throttle handle.
Throttle handle’s metal end is now tipped out and spins.
Badly scraped and cracked footboard side panels (already scraped from dropping the scooter in the past).
Mirror out of whack, but I think I’ve adjusted it back to fine now.
Throttle was stuck at first, but got it unstuck after 30 seconds or so. The throttle doesn’t always roll back to off now, though; the tipped end provides too much friction against the rubber handle, although I can spin the tipped end to a position where it's about 90% fine. (I’ll definitely need to get this fixed.)
The exhaust pipe or muffler appears to have taken a little damage, too, bending one of the bolts inward a little. I don’t notice any issues with it — and I’ve done two 60-mile rides since this weekend — but I should get it looked at.
Except for the throttle issue, seems to be cosmetic damage and drivable.

Personal Damage

Bruised right knee.
Scraped left elbow, even a trickle of blood.
Tingly left pinkie and forearm. Still bothering me a little bit, few days later.
Would have gone to the chiropractor the next day, as a preventative, but they are closed on Fridays. I seem to be doing fine in that regard, though, so the regular Wednesday appointment will do.

Lucky.

Nobody tell my mother, okay?

What is a “Twink”?

noreply@blogger.com (Jim Drew) — Mon, 13 Oct 2008 20:31:00 +0000

This question recently came up on a list I’m on, and one person was tickled enough by it that he suggested I “publish” it. By your command, edited for blogability…

It’s shorthand for “Twinkie&rdquo — which we all know is golden sponge cake with cream filling, light and fluffy and full of preservatives and pretty much nutrition free, but (to some people) oh so yummy.

Ergo, a “twink&rdquo is light and fluffy and full of cream (and often blond, and usually gay), without a lot of substance to him, but (to some people) oh so yummy. A male airhead, like, you know? (And I’m sure that somewhere, female twinks are referenced, too. Probably letter-shifted to “twynks”.)

It used to be almost always a derogatory term, but these days, I gather it’s a mark of pride for some boys. (It’s still a negative term in my book, though. I never use it as a favorable reference.)

Movie Review: Iron Man

noreply@blogger.com (Jim Drew) — Sat, 30 Aug 2008 22:36:00 +0000

I finally saw Iron Man last weekend, when the Columbia City Cinema got it in as a second run film. It was pretty good, I thought.

Mind you, I’ve never been a fan of Iron Man. Not that I dislike Iron Man, but I just haven’t ever followed the character other than in the pages of The Avengers. (This is probably because he’s a tech-based character. I’m a big fan of the Legion of Super-Heroes, where every member has to have a unique non-tech power; Iron Man is a no-go in that scenario.)

As a result, I know the basics of the the character arc for Iron Man without being able to get hung up on the details. That makes me an ideal audience for a superhero movie: I know of Tony Stark and Pepper Potts, and I can identify the character prepped to be the Mandarin in a future film, but I’m in no place to complain if Happy Hogan was relegated to just a chauffeur but was so much more than that in the comics.

What I particularly liked about the film, though, is that it was a superhero film without being full of the arch-villain. Obadiah Stane was more organically grown from Tony Stark’s back story, as opposed to Lex Luthor’s maniacal jealous businessman or Norman Osborne going off the deep end to become the Green Goblin.

Also nice was the fact that despite this being a movie based around a tech character, there wasn’t either the “bounce the character off he walls so frenetically that the audience loses all sense of direction” from Spider-Man 3, nor the “blow up every vehicle in the city” from The Dark Knight. I want to be able to tell who is hitting whom and why; keep the property damage only to that which needs to be done, not gratuitous explosions because you’ve got the budget.

The only down side to this film was entirely on the theater’s part. They were alternating showings of it with Sisterhood of the Travelling Pants 2 (two films that go back-to-back so logically!) in the same theater, and people for the next film were filing in during the Iron Man credits. And thus to hasten things along… no, they didn’t stop things before the legendary post-credits scene, but they turned off the camera, so we got to hear it but not see it. Grrr.

What Were They Thinking?: A comma, a comma, my kingdom for a comma!

noreply@blogger.com (Jim Drew) — Wed, 20 Aug 2008 17:48:00 +0000

There is a new “ride the bus” ad on Seattle city (and King County) buses, with alleged bus riders saying “I do make a difference by riding the bus.” But it raises a question to me:

Who the heck was the copy writer on this?

There are four ways you could use this basic sentence:

I make a difference by riding the bus.

This is the answer you give to the question “How can you have an effect and promote a green lifestyle?” The response is simple and factual. Riding the bus is the important thing here.

I make a difference, by riding the bus.

This is the answer you give to the question “Can you have an effect and promote a green lifestyle?” Yes, you can (hello Obama), and here’s how I do it. It’s a little more forward. It stresses that you can make a difference, with riding the bus being one person’s answer.

I do make a difference, by riding the bus.

Here, the response is to a question like “Can someone really have an effect and promote a green lifestyle?” There’s a bit of disbelief in that, requiring the refutation word “do”, and then the clarification of how the person makes a difference.

I do make a difference by riding the bus.

And then there’s the one actually being used. This is the response to “I don’t think one person can really have an effect and promote a green life. Prove it.” The response is refutational, and petulant, and ultimately inadequate. There needs to be a little foot stomp and the follow-up line “I do, I do, I do!” (And I don’t mean to reference an ABBA song here.)

In other words, they opted for the worst of the four options, the one that carries the least weight and the most whining.

But you know, maybe there are other values to the wording. How about the meter of the line?

i DO make a DIFerence by RIDing the BUS.

Hmm, okay. But as I said, a bit whining with the emphasis on “do”.

I make a DIFerence by RIDing the BUS.

The meter here has to fall on the first syllable instead, but then swoops into the same meter for the rest of the phrase. And that’s not a bad thing, since it then stresses personal responsibility.

So meter is out as a reason to use this wording. Anything else?

Oh lord, no.

“I do.”

Is this a subliminal gay marriage thing, maybe? By putting those words — which hold a lot of symbolic power in our culture — in front of thousands of people every day, are we keeping the concept of marriage in the front of everyone’s subconscious? And since marriage really only gets coverage in light of same-sex civil marriage these days, is reminding people that it exists a subtle way of pushing for tolerance?

Or am I a conspiracy theorist today?

[Thanks to the Seattle Transit Blog for the image.]

[Thanks to William Shakespeare for the entry title reference.]

Movie Review: Mamma Mia!

noreply@blogger.com (Jim Drew) — Wed, 20 Aug 2008 17:16:00 +0000

Please don’t make Pierce Brosnan sing in a movie ever again. Ever.

Note: I have not seen the stage version of this, so I can’t comment on how well or poorly the screenplay meshes with the original. But I have my suspicions that a few things got dropped in the movie.

Beyond that, make no mistake, Mamma Mia! is not a “serious” movie. It is camp. And when it remembers that it’s okay to be campy, that’s where the film excels, and sells itself to the audience, making us smile, giggle and twitter, and even sing along. (It’s ABBA music. You’re supposed to sing along!)

When the movie pushes in a bit of melodrama — Sophie and Sky’s tiny spat, for example — it stutters and stumbles. (Or anytime Brosnan sings.) But as soon as the next whoop-it-up chorus-boys-and-girls dance number comes along, all is well again.

The casting, or more the use of the casting, is spotty. The two adult women sidekicks rip into the film with abandon, chewing the scenery and carrying the film forward. Meryl Streep always feels reined in by uncertainty — should she just say “fuck it” and embrace the cheese, or should she hold back? This is informed by the character she is playing, perhaps, but she never feels like she is inhabiting a movie built around ABBA songs. The girl playing Sophie is a wide-eyed cipher; her motives and dreams are vaguely mentioned throughout the movie, but she never really projects them. Sky is cute but otherwise empty. All three adult male cast members seem more stunned by the film than anything else; again, while that’s part of the characters, it comes across to the viewer as mediocre acting (or poor directing).

Thank goodness for one of the men’s implied gay romance. The confession exchange on the boat gave more depth to the two characters talking than the entire rest of the film, and a genuine clever crossed-signals dialogue bit.

Also annoying was the insistence on groups of three — three adult women, three adult men, Sophie and her two girlfriends. Sophie’s gal pals are so prominent in the first 10 minutes that their near absence from the rest of the film stands out strongly. And where was the threesome (ahem) with Sky as the pivot point, to keep that balance? Oh, there, we saw Sky, the black bartender, and one other guy for about 3 seconds in one scene, so that must have been that triad. (Story logic says that the unnamed third guy there should also be the gay fling attached to one of the adult men, but I don’t think it was the same actor.)

In the end, you have two choices with this film: sit outside it and analyze it and find it wanting, or inhabit the film’s world and burst out into song, dance, and sequins as needed. The choice is easy, the hard part is dealing with Pierce Brosnan’s singing voice.

Movie Review: Kung Fu Panda

noreply@blogger.com (Jim Drew) — Mon, 28 Jul 2008 21:13:00 +0000

The nearest theater to my house is the Columbia City Cinema, only about 1/4 mile away. Only a couple years old, they’ve just added a 100-seat second screen to their 200-seat upstairs offering. I’ve rediscovered the pleasure of the weekend matinee — just $6 before 4:00 — and I’ve gone 3 of the past 4 weekends. (Having two screens makes that easier: there’s always something new for me to see, since they typically seem to swap out one film each week.)

(They also have single-person bags of popcorn for the reasonable price of just $2! Yay! And coming soon are the new Mummy film, maybe the new animated Star Wars, and they are trying to get second-run shots of Iron Man and Mamma Mia! Double yay!)

In the past few weeks, I saw WALL-E (mini-review: “Cute, but not all that inspiring. Went downhill in the pleasure arena once they left Earth, although there wouldn’t have been much story otherwise.”) and The Dark Knight (mini-review: “Heath Ledger was fantastic, the bat-cowl still makes Christian Bale look like a doofus, and I miss the decor from the previous film, where Gotham had some character to it rather than being just another name for Chicago. Too many ridiculous car explosion chase scenes, too.”), and this Sunday, I went to see the new Jack Black-voiced computer animated film, Kung Fu Panda.

This review is going to sound like a bit of a back-handed compliment. My apology for that, but it cannot be helped, since I only have things to say about the places the film didn’t let me down…

About all I can really say about Kung Fu Panda is that it wasn’t as bad as I feared, on almost every level. And when you expect systemic mediocrity but go above that, you end up with something that’s at least light and enjoyable.

There is nothing particularly deep and enlightening about this film (but I didn’t expect there to be). It is all set in a generic, pseudo-mystical valley in semi-ancient China — as these things often are — but not one with anything particularly recognizable as “true” legends, just the typical made-for-the-movies type. (Compare to Mulan, which was based on real people and had more solidity and coherence to its setting.) In particular, though, while they make abundant use of the Yangtze’s gorge rock formations, there’s no visit to either the Great Wall or the Imperial City, which are stock China references.

The movie trips lightly by most of the details of kung fu (and various other martial arts), making no mention of “chi” or “shaolin”, and it makes little use of stereotypical guttural “huuuuu-CHA” sound effects and only some tiny bits of “mystical energy” effects. There’s lots of “wire work” effects, but little of it out of the realm of what gets seen in live-action Hong Kong films — and some parts of the rope bridge sequence are clever enough to forgive even those excesses.

I was worried that Jack Black comedy stylings would overwhelm the film or make his Po character stick out too much, but I was pleased to have that not be the case. Likewise with several of the other “name” actors doing voice work; not having paid attention to who was whom going in, I didn’t get broken out of the film by Angelina Jolie or Jackie Chan or Lucy Liu. I was also pleased to see several Asian actor names in the voice credits.

Sometimes animated fare decides that it has to push a message alongside and even on top of the story. There’s a little bit of messaging here — everyone has his own strengths, and use your opponent’s biggest weakness against him — but they were pretty much stated once and then silently played on later. (Okay, except for “There are no accidents.” That one was hammered in a few times, and even the characters meta-commented on that.)

In the end, I smiled in a few places, and the kids in the audience (there were about a dozen, half the crowd) seemed tickled by parts of the film. So, good enough for a matinee.

Phone Call of the Day

noreply@blogger.com (Jim Drew) — Fri, 02 May 2008 22:42:00 +0000

A few minutes ago, I was in the middle of a 2-person meeting at work, when the office phone rang, with no caller ID identified (which just means it came from an external location, I think). Excusing myself, I answered the phone, to hear an automated voice. (“Oy,” I thought. “The telemarketers have tracked me to work!”)

No, it was a collect call from King County Jail! They had a recording of the person’s name (someone male), garbled and unintelligible so I had no idea what the name was (although maybe if I knew the guy’s voice and name, I could have understood what was said), and then a request for me to accept the phone charges or not.

Two user experience issues with this:

No idea what the cost of accepting the call was
No way to replay the person’s name if I didn't catch it the first time around (and since I was a bit shocked to get a call from the Jail, I wasn’t listening all that closely)

So I looked at the phone for a couple minutes, and hung up. Then quickly called about the only person I could think of outside of work who would have and would call my work number, just to be sure he wasn’t in Jail. (He wasn’t.)

Hope it was (a) a wrong number rather than someone I know who was depending on me, and (b) the inmate isn’t limited to the stereotyped single attempt to call someone and I blew it for him. There hasn’t been a second call, so who knows…?

Butch Fun Cars III?

noreply@blogger.com (Jim Drew) — Thu, 10 Apr 2008 08:17:00 +0000

Kymco People S 125. 2007. Royal Blue.
Deposit this afternoon, balance and pick up next Saturday.

More later…

(Here’s the reference for the entry title.)

What Were They Thinking?: Dr. Laura Masturbates While Sitting on the End of a Car

noreply@blogger.com (Jim Drew) — Wed, 26 Mar 2008 21:09:00 +0000

On Monday morning, driving to work, I scanned past the conservative talk radio station KVI, which recently decided to pull off the morning talk show “The Commentators” in favor of Dr. Laura.

We love her.

The bumper (“end of a car”) music was this New Wave classic:

“I Touch Myself”, by the Divinyls

(Actually, it may have been a more recent cover, since the voice sounded higher than in this recording. Same difference.)

Just wrap your head around that for a moment: Dr. Laura, and a song about jilling off.

Letter of Comment: “Trapped in the Closet”

noreply@blogger.com (Jim Drew) — Mon, 24 Mar 2008 18:20:00 +0000

This letter was sent to the Seattle Weekly, in response to this February 27, 2008 article (titled “Seattle, You Love Your Mainstream Country Music” inside the issue, but “Trapped in the Closet” on the cover). It was published in the March 19, 2008 edition, but the online version only carries a portion of the letters. (Which makes no sense: online is where you can easily print them all.) The letter was edited slightly (which is fine); original content removed is [blue in brackets]. Special thanks to Spencer for letting me know the letter was published.

Brian Barr and the Weekly’s editor must be wearing their Wranglers a size too tight. How else do you cover feature a story with a blurb like “Trapped in the Closet” without making any mention of the gay and lesbian side of things?

GLBTQ country-western dancing and music is alive and kicking [(up its heels)] in the Seattle area. The non-profit, volunteer-run Rain Country Dance Association currently produces dance nights at the Cuff Complex on Capitol Hill every Friday night and alternate Wednesdays, providing both dance instruction and all your favorite country-western dance music. Rain Country is also in an expansion mode this month: we are adding a classic country music night at the Seattle Eagle, and Monday lessons and dancing at Swank in Kent. (Kudos to the Weekly for your recent story on gay life in Kent!) We also produce a monthly non-bar dance night at a Seattle church.

[Rain Country’s biggest news, of course, is the upcoming Emerald City Hoedown on April 25-27, with a whole weekend of dancing and dance workshops, including guest instructors from San Francisco.]

And [since someone will be thinking the question,] no, you don’t have to show your “gay card” at any of our dances. Everyone is welcome. [We don’t care who you sleep with, so long as you like to dance! Check us out online at www.raincountrydance.org.]

-- Jim Drew
[President, Rain Country]

Where were you when the lights went out?

noreply@blogger.com (Jim Drew) — Mon, 24 Mar 2008 18:06:00 +0000

Me, I was driving up Rainier Avenue.

It’s always a bit freaky to be walking or driving underneath a streetlight just as it decides to go out. (Did I cause that?) For years, I used to clap twice after that would happen (it happened at least once a week to me, I swear), claiming that it was a “psychic clap-on/clap-off light”. The light would go off because I was about to clap. Prove that it wasn’t.

Anyway…

The weird feeling of a streetlight gong off is nothing quite like driving through an intersection and the lights suddenly going off for blocks in every direction. (Shit! Did I cause that?) That’s what happened last night, at around 11:30 pm, on Rainier near 23rd. Bright flash and then dark. Then about a block further, another flash as everything came back on, and then immediately off again, and then a couple more repeats of that in the next few seconds. It started to look like a scene from a horror film.

Another half mile along and the power was on in that neighborhood, although when I cam back down Rainier an hour later, the power was still off in the zone I had been driving through. I assume it’s back on this morning. I don't see anything on the Seattle Times website today, so I assume it was nothing big enough to mention. No semi plowing into a transformer station to destroy a time-traveling killer robot or anything.

Ireland: Dublin to Amsterdam to Seattle, er, make that to Minneapolis and then to Seattle (part 2)

noreply@blogger.com (Jim Drew) — Sun, 02 Mar 2008 21:04:00 +0000

1:04 pm (Minneapolis time), somewhere over the Atlantic

No such luck with a long layover in Amsterdam.

We apparently made up some of the time lost on the ground during our flight. We were supposed to arrive at 12:15 and we were on the ground at 1:00. Still, my flight to Seattle was to leave at 1:15. The KLM agent told me they had already booked me onto a replacement flight and sent me to the T4 transfer station.

When I got there, I had to wait for a couple people, and then the agent said if I ran I would still make my Seattle flight, but the gate was… yes, you guessed it, the further one from where we were. I would have to cover 2 blocks of terminal in 8 minutes, with two carry-ons. Like Hell. (The last time I tried that, for a redeye flight to Chicago a year ago, 7 of us made it – only because the flight was 15 minutes late leaving – but they had given away all but 3 of the seats, and two solo travelers snapped up two of them, leaving me and Rusty and a family of three with no solution.) So I walked as fast as I could manage, and an agent met me about 100 feet from the gate saying she had just turned away another traveller. Could I have made it if I had actually ran? Maybe, but I think karma would have said “No” and left me just a sweaty upset mess.

So she sent me back to the T6 transfer station. Unlike the T4 one, this one had people in line. Lots of people. It took me just under two hours to get through the line (and by then, the number of people in the line had almost doubled; poor people in the line at that point!). At which point they couldn’t find me in the system. They eventually did: I had been rebooked after all, as the original agent said, on a flight to Minneapolis and then to Seattle. Which was scheduled to leave… wait for it… 2 hours 10 minutes after my original one. Also known as “in about 10 minutes”. Also known as “if you run, you can make it.” Also know as… you guessed it, back to the same gate, the farthest one away! Argh!

So I hustled (a little running, but not much) back to gate E22, and got on. The flight was still boarding 10 minutes after it was supposed to take off. I think a bunch of people got shuttled onto it late like me. But at least I’m on the flight. Unfortunately, that also means another layover in Minneapolis before the next Seattle flight. Best guess is as much as 4 hours. I was originally supposed to be back in Seattle at 2:35 pm, now it’s going to be close to 11:30 pm.

So much for any hopes of either a pleasant Sunday or staving of reverse jetlag.

Watched Chicken Little on the flight so far. Useless waste of an animated film, almost nothing to recommend it. Will probably watch Cars and Juno, too, unless I can sleep some.

The baby on the Amsterdam flight shut up once we were finally in the air, and then started up again after we landed. This flight has one of the same sort: wailing until we were in the air, fortunately sleeping now.

Ireland: Dublin to Amsterdam to Seattle, er, make that to Minneapolis and then to Seattle (part 1)

noreply@blogger.com (Jim Drew) — Sun, 02 Mar 2008 19:09:00 +0000

11:09 am (Dublin time), somewhere over England

Boy, it doesn’t take but one experience to show you how much airports suck.

Make that how much American airports suck.

With a 9:40 am flight to Amsterdam, I caught the 7:55 bus to the airport from the City Centre. I know, that’s less that a two hour window, and in the States they always recommend a minimum two hours, three if you’re flying internationally. (Which is utter bullshit, of course. The only time you need two hours is if you’re flying a hub airline before 8:00 am on a business day. And I’ve not seen any reason to need an hour beyond that for international flights, since there’s nothing extra you usually need to do.)

I would guess (based on the number of terminals and the number of posted flights for a Sunday morning) that Dublin’s airport is 1/2 to 2/3 the size of Seattle, with of course vastly more traffic going International. At the Dublin airport, they don’t have separate ticket counters for checking in for each airline, which in the States leaves some deserted and some utterly mobbed. Instead, in Dublin they have check-in areas allocating different departing flights to different areas. Can you imagine: load balancing! Efficiency! And thus my wait for a check-in machine: zero people. My wait for checking my bags: zero people. My wait to have the security person check my boarding pass and passport: two people. My wait to go through security: zero people. (And they didn’t make me remove my shoes, either.)

In other words, the absolute best check in and security experience you can imagine in today’s environment. Less than 10 minutes from arriving at the check-in area to being through security, at 8:20 am.

On the other had, Aer Lingus still sucks. Same lousy legroom, same hawking of perfume and charging for beverages. But let’s add in that the seats in front of the exit rows don’t recline, so I’m having to turn sideways to uncomfortably type this. And the various regular announcements are both spoken in English but from a tape in Irish, and the speaker is right over my head, so I have to plug my ears every time an Irish announcement comes on, or go deaf.

But that’s not the worst of it. There’s some sort of a threatened Aer Lingus strike in the air, and that apparently has take the effect of either a slowdown or a sick out for the baggage handlers. Which means we boarded on time… and sat on the tarmack. 40 minutes after we were scheduled to take off, they finally fired up the engines… and we sat for another 25 minutes before we finally left.

(And yes, there was the requisite crying baby, wailing the entire time.)

You’ll recall that coming through Amsterdam, we had a two hour scheduled layover than turned into five hours. Going back (me today, Mom and Grandma on Tuesday), we’re only scheduled for a one hour layover.

I’ll pause to let you do the math…

Yup. My flight to Amsterdam is now scheduled to arrive after my connection home departs. (Even at the 40 minute late mark, I doubt they could have transferred my luggage in time.) Which leaves me at a loss for how long my delay will be in Amsterdam; depends on how often Northwest and KLM leave for Seattle (not sure which I’m taking back; check-in in terminal said KLM – Royal Dutch Airlines – but boarding pass says Northwest, which we flew to Amsterdam last week; they are partners, obviously).

Mom did buy Trip Insurance, so that will be my first thing to check when I get there. I think it doesn’t kick in until there’s a 6 hour delay or some such, though. (And whether it gets me anything, or just reimburses here, I don’t know.)

The cynical yet hopeful side of me says “Maybe they’ll bump me by 12 or 24 hours, and I’ll have to (get to) go into Amsterdam for a period of time, maybe even having them put me up for the night.” Damn, I’d hate that.

I’m reminded that the guys I was originally in the row with on the flight to Amsterdam last week expressed that they couldn’t imagine having to get on another flight after the long one to Seattle, implying too much stress and annoyance to handle. I think I get what they meant, now.

Ireland: Dublin (part 4)

noreply@blogger.com (Jim Drew) — Sun, 02 Mar 2008 10:55:00 +0000

2:55 am, Dublin (at the hotel)

Next paragraph is a sex one again. Read or skip at your leisure.

Well, I never made it out to the pubs. I got “ordered in” via Manhunt, and went out to the apartment of a couple locals. A little leather hood, a little restraints, a little spanking, and little fucking, a little getting my dick sucked by an additional guy who was there, and little (but not enough!) ass play. I had been thinking about going to the local sauna (bath house), the Boilerhouse, but back to the hotel after 2:00, that’s not going to happen. (And their cover is steep, anyway, so I’ll just save some bucks, er, Euros.) Wish the scene had lasted longer, but I can’t complain.

I noticed that some of the crossing lights on O’Connell count down the seconds until the signal turns green for you, as opposed to the stateside method some use of counting down how much time is left. I suppose that has its value, in getting people to wait a few more seconds rather than stepping out into traffic because they’re in a hurry.

There’s a soap store just around the corner on Henry Street that is truly putrid smelling. It’s some sort of a hand-made cosmetics place, but there is an odor from it which wafts down onto O’Connell, even at 2:30 am, hours after closing. It smells like a huge vat of Palmolive; totally turns my stomach.

My goal for the evening is to stay up later tonight/this morning, and only get a few hours sleep. That will prompt me to sleep early on the flight back, and hopefully get back closer to my typical weekend schedule (waking up late morning) to ease myself back through the jetlag faster. We’ll see if it works.

I have to catch a bus to the airport at about 7:30 am tomorrow, for a 9:50 flight to Amsterdam. Then it’s a 1 hour layover there (cross fingers!) and back to Seattle, in at 2:35 in the afternoon. I’ll have to take the bus back home, but that’s fine. (If it isn’t raining, of course. Weather report doesn’t predict that for Seattle right now.)

Ireland: Dublin (part 3)

noreply@blogger.com (Jim Drew) — Sun, 02 Mar 2008 03:17:00 +0000

7:17 pm, Dublin (at the hotel)

The Irish Stew was mediocre – underseasoned and soupy – but the side salad, a mix of green salad and slaw, was pretty good. And the bread & butter pudding with hot custard was quite yummy.

I’ve taken over 120 video snippets so far on the trip, amounting to 20 MB of space, somewhere around 90 minutes of video, I suspect, ranging from 3-4 seconds up to 8 minutes. I’m going to be editing this stuff forever! (Actually, I’ll try to do minimal editing, just chopping useless seconds from the start and end. I’ll stitch a bunch of the short pieces together into longer bits, with interstitial headings, probably ending up mostly 30 second to 2 minutes each, which will make for better YouTube viewing and will keep me from embedding 100 videos in my blog.)

Ireland: Dublin (part 2)

noreply@blogger.com (Jim Drew) — Sun, 02 Mar 2008 01:48:00 +0000

5:48 pm, Dublin (at the hotel)

It took me a while to find the Archaeolgical wing of the museum, down on Kildare Street. I had to wander around the Trinity College area a while, before I found it with the National Library and Leinster House (where Parliament and the Irish Senate meet). Since it faces the square of Leinster House and that square is all fenced in for security, the museum gets short shrift; you can’t see much of its front.

I did get to pass by the statue of Molly Malone, the fishmonger (or perhaps prostitute) from the song of the same name (also know as “Cockles and Mussels”), the unofficial anthem of Dublin.

I only got to see the museum for about 30 minutes, so I stayed on the first floor, with the prehistoric exhibits, including the Bog Men (people ritually murdered and buried in the peat bogs, preserved for hundreds and thousands of years), the Hill of Tara, and a artifacts like cauldrons and gold work. I was especially impressed by the torcs, which I had always assumed were fairly thick stretched bars of gold, but many of them were very fine spirals of gold instead, created by making a three- or four-flanged ingot, heating it, and twisting it while stretching it.

My last trip to Europe, some photography was doable in museums, so long as it was flashless. Apparently absolutely none is allowed in the National Museum of Ireland, though, as I got reprimanded for using my non-lit digital video camera. Oh well, I got a couple bits of video today from in the museums, but I didn’t try to “cheat” after the reprimand.

Dinner soon. Flanagan’s next to the hotel serves Irish Stew, and I haven’t had that all week, so it’s time. And then a nap before going out, maybe.

Ireland: Dublin (part 1)

noreply@blogger.com (Jim Drew) — Sat, 01 Mar 2008 22:28:00 +0000

2:28 pm, Dublin (at the hotel)

Made eyes at a couple bearish types at Pantibar and The George last night, but nothing beyond that. Came back to the hotel around 1:30. (Pantibar is named for an MTF transsexual performer, and I guess owner of the bar, Panti. Part of the decor is red women’s and men’s underwear as light diffusers over the lampshades.)

My hotel room is a top floor garret room, with a single bed tucked into the corner. A pretty lousy bed, truth be told: thin useless pillow, and a mattress that you can feel all the springs in. The bathroom isn’t too bad, though, and there’s wireless, and ultimately, it’s a room in the City Centre area at not too expensive a price.

The view out my tiny window pretty much just shows the top floor of the building across the street, although I can also catch a view of the Spire. The 120-meter tall Dublin Spire was erected in early 2003 as a replacement for the 138-foot Nelson’s Pillar, which had been blown up by the IRA in 1966 (possibly to commemorate the Easter Uprising of 1916). It is a silver spike narrowing from about 10 feet at the base to 6 inches at the top. The top several feet has white LED lights at night.

After breakfast, I took the tram back to Collins Barracks and visited the Decorative Arts wing of the National Museum of Ireland. They have on display a reconstruction of a Viking longboat originally built in the Dublin area around 1042 and sunk (along with several other boats) in a Danish fjord some 50 years later. The boat was reconstructed using period tools and techniques, taking 44,000 man hours to complete, and then it was sailed back to Dublin by a crew of 65, with stops at several locations along the way in Denmark and Norway.

The museum also has a display about the Easter Uprising of 1916, which led to Irish independence 6 or 7 years later. Via other displays at the museum, it’s clear that such uprisings occurred every 20-40 years, going back into the 1700s and before. Not that this tells modern American audiences anything about what to expect when occupying Iraq, oh, no. (Basically, the local always want an occupying force out, and every generation will fight to get rid of the oppressors.)

Other displays include a look at Irish soldiers around the world, going back to 1550. Much of it centers on Irish brigades in World Wars I and II, of course, but there are large parts about the Irish during English colonial days, the “Wild Geese” Irish expats serving in continental European armies in the 19th century, and the Irish brigades in the Boer War, the Spanish Civil War, and even the American Civil War (mostly on the side of the Union, but there was an Irish regiment out of Tennessee fighting for the South). Interestingly, one ploy to strive for freedom from British rule in the 1860s was an Irish invasion of Canada (!) through Niagara, New York; the Irish beat the Canadian militia at the Battle of Ridgeway, but fell back to the States on rumor of British troops arriving. Here is more info that you want about the event.

Other exhbits that I saw included Irish silverwork, Irish coins, and a some miscellany from the general collections, including a fabulous dress done by Charles Worth, founder of the first house of couture in Paris. (I have a friend who studied couture in Paris a few years ago.)

Coming back, I wandered through the large pedestrian shopping mall that runs from Jervis to O’Connell, to the Spire. Bought some souvenirs: three t-shirts, a mug and a shot glass, and some shortbread and chocolates; some for me, some for others.
I opted to not go to the Guinness Storehouse, when I found out that the tour was €14. Half that would have been fine, but $20 was too steep for me. I’ll probably be sorry later, and have to come back to Dublin someday.

Shortly, I’m going to head out to the Archeological wing of the National Museum, on the south side of the Liffey.

Ireland: Killarney to Mallow to Dublin, and in Dublin (part 3)

noreply@blogger.com (Jim Drew) — Sat, 01 Mar 2008 06:11:00 +0000

10:11 pm, Dublin (at the hotel)

Wandered down to the Liffey and hit Forbidden Planet. Came back with a dozen miscellaneous back issue from their overstock bin at 25 cents each, and a copy of Justice League Legends, reprinting part of “The Lightning Saga” and a couple issues of Justice, including a new cover for my anal-retentive Legion collection.

If you don’t want to know details of my sexual escapades, just skip the next paragraph.

I hooked up with a Dublin guy early in the evening via Manhunt. (He’s actually from “the north”; don’t know if that means Belfast/Northern Ireland or not.) Ended up as and interesting encounter: he asked me to put on some of my leather – I only brought a vest and some boots, to keep the weight down – and that plus a nice fat dick made him want me to fuck him. No problem. Except that he’d never been fucked before (and hadn’t done much fucking himself, I gather; I guess he was mostly an oral guy). Fat dick + cherry ass = probably quite he memorable time for him. (Moreso because of the piercing. I only have the 6-gauge curved barbell in, so nothing nearly so dramatic as if the 2-gauge ring were in, but still, multiple new sensations for him!) Did he like it? Not sure; he had some definite pain, and he didn’t know what he should be feeling (and I could barely tell him, it’s been 18 years since I was in that place), but he stuck with it like a trooper and eventually decided he just needed to jam himself on down. (First time I’ve deflowered a guy, to my knowledge. He took it easier than some have, though!)

After that, I headed back into Temple Bar – past the actual Temple Bar, in fact and had dinner at a Chinese fast food place (duck in plum sauce) and then a Nutella and ice cream crepe and coffee for dessert. On the way back, stopped in the Temple Bar Trading Co. shop, or the side that was open, which was all Guinness stuff. Mugs, chocolates, refrigerator magnets, sure. Soccer balls, rugby balls, t-shirt, okay. Soft-boiled egg cups? Slippers? Underwear? Oy! (Or is that “Oi!”?)

My mother observed that she wasn’t picking up the Irish accent as readily as she has with other accents on past trips. Me either, and that surprised me at first, although I’ve noticed it creeping in more the last couple days. I suspect it’s because we’ve had three of us to reinforce each other’s American speech modes. Now that I’m on my own, I’ll be picking it up much faster, I’m sure.

I’ll be heading out to the pubs in a bit.

Ireland: Killarney to Mallow to Dublin, and in Dublin (part 2)

noreply@blogger.com (Jim Drew) — Fri, 29 Feb 2008 22:58:00 +0000

2:58 pm, Dublin (at a hotel)

We arrived in Dublin a bit early, I think. I pulled my suitcase out into the terminal, got a chicken, cheese, and stuffing panini, and then hopped on the tram for a €1.50 ride to Abbey Street, less than two blocks from my hotel. Makes me look forward to when our light rail in Seattle will be done, next year. I’ll be able to catch a bus less than a block from the house, switch to the tram after about a 5 minute ride, and then take a 20 minute ride right to the airport. It will take a bit longer (and take more timing) than just getting in the car, but it will generally be quite convenient.

I’m going to go out for a bit and wander O’Connell Street, and probably down to Forbidden Planet. I expect to hit both Guinness Storehouse and the National Museum (for the Viking exhibit) tomorrow.

Ireland: Killarney to Mallow to Dublin, and in Dublin (part 1)

noreply@blogger.com (Jim Drew) — Fri, 29 Feb 2008 20:25:00 +0000

12:25 pm, Killarney to Dublin (on the train)

Yesterday’s trip took us toward Cork, to Blarney Castle (and the Blarney Stone), probably the most famous tourist attraction in Ireland. We drove toward Cork, then took the scenic route on the north side of Inishcarra reservoir, then into Blarney, where we had lunch.

Blarney Castle has large grounds, the castle ruins, a “rock close” (a garden path through some large boulders), and a manor house built a couple hundred years ago. There are several stops and viewpoints around the grounds, explaining various history bits, including a cave with alleged tunnels to Cork, Kerry, and the lake; the dungeon, likely castle well, and kennel; the lake, where valuable gold plate was said to be tossed to keep it from the hands of the British (the lake was drained in the 1800s, but no sign of the plate was ever found); the lookout tower, and so forth.

Perhaps the most striking aspect was how small the castle actually was. A basement and an entry room; rooms for the Earl, his daughters, and the priest; a “family room”; a banquet hall; a kitchen no larger than my own; and a couple garderobes (privies). That’s it. Presumably any guards and staff were housed outside the castle, but the image of one housing dozens of people inside is completely blown away.

Being there in February, the manor house was closed to tours, the rock close was technically closed as they were building a new boardwalk for it, but by going up the exit steps, I was able to get in and see all I wanted to. In truth, there probably should have been a reduced entry free, since perhaps 1/3 of the site was unavailable. On the other hand, one of the guidebooks showed the line to kiss the Blarney Stone in spring or summer, with people lined up solid all around the battlements and around the banquet hall below. In contrast, while I was in the castle proper, there were maybe a dozen others in there as well, such that I could go to any part and linger or backtrack as desired. And since Mom and Grandma couldn’t negotiate much in terms of steps well, and were getting a bit worn down by all the driving, I don’t think we would have done much more there if it were available.

And yes, I did kiss the Blarney Stone. With that added gift of eloquence, now you’ll never get me to shut up.

We returned via Mallow and Rathmore, then stopped at the Lidl (closer to a Fred Meyer, perhaps, than anything else in the Northwest; grocery store plus some other stuff) to get the making for dinner. I made pork chops, quiche lorraine (okay, baked a pre-made one of those), and beets, plus strawberry trifle cups for dessert.

Friday morning came a bit earlier, as I made oatmeal and scrambled eggs with bacon (ham) and bits of pork chops I had salvaged the night before, pre-cooking. And then a scramble (heh) to the train. The ticket to Dublin was €33 ($50, about the same as a ticket from Portland to Vancouver BC, maybe), purchased from the Irish Rail website; purchased at the station, it would have been €62!

The more I’ve travelled in recent years, the bigger a fan I’ve become of using public transportation — the El in Chicago, busses and subway in New York — but cross-country rail is a whole different level. But it’s been an enjoyable trip — except for the persistent rattle in something above the window next to me. The cars are clean and modern, with little tables and even a food service cart coming through the aisle. (It’s also a faster trip than by car, I think, with only two stop between Mallow and Dublin.) Miles and miles of green Irish countryside going by, nothing much to see.

We should be in Dublin in 30-40 minutes, I think, and then I’ll catch a cab or bus to Lynam’s hotel on O’Connell Street, where I’ll be for the next couple nights. I’m going to try to start shifting my schedule back around the clock, staying up late tonight, sleeping late tomorrow, and staying up late and probably sleeping very little on Saturday night, so that I’ll knock out on the plane to Amsterdam and then back to Seattle. I’m scheduled back in Seattle at 2:30 pm. The aim being, then to wake up the equivalent of late morning on Sunday (like I usually would) and being back to something close to my usual weekend schedule, minimizing the jetlag coming back. We’ll see.

I’ve got the starts of a couple play sessions for this evening set up already, although how well they’ll play through remains to be seen. (As is always the case with such.) Being “fresh meat” in Dublin will probably help boost them to working, of course. First one will likely be 6:30 pm or so. A lot will depend on Internet access at the hotel or close by.

Ireland: Killarney, Blarney Castle, and Mallow

noreply@blogger.com (Jim Drew) — Fri, 29 Feb 2008 05:34:00 +0000

9:34 pm, Killarney (upstairs at the cottage)

An unusual thing I’ve noticed here in Ireland is that hot air hand dryers are everywhere in toilets. I have only seen a single paper towel dispenser all week. In part, I suppose that this is a marker of how much forest (and thus paper products) we have in the States, vs. how little they have in Ireland. But I also wonder if hot air hand dryers are more “green” (as they have always claimed to be). There would be a larger overhead in the creation of each dryer vs. that of a paper towel dispenser, and there are ongoing electricity costs and higher regular maintenance costs. But on the other hand, day to day usage is just electricity. No need to stock and load paper towels, no need to truck in paper towels, no need to do everything required to create paper towels, and no need to dispose of paper towels (and I bet relatively little are recycled). When you think about it, there are a lot of costs involved in the day-to-day “maintenance” of the towel dispenser.

Oops, out of time to write of today’s trip now, will have to do that first thing on Friday.