My Addled Brain

Hello Elizabeth. Congratulations, Melissa and Gax.

I still remember the first time I stepped into a Best Buy. Every geek’s wet dream of a store, complete with loud music, video games, enormous televisions, PC equipment, tons of CDs and VHS movies (this was 1993, people). It was all I could do to prevent myself from skipping up and down the aisles, grabbing things nearly at random, Homer-In-The-Land-of-Chocolate style. Such joy! Such happiness! Such a friggin’ setup!

I popped into Best Buy today to pick up a car charger for my cell phone. I know it might be hard for some of you to believe this, but I actually forgot to charge my phone last night. I know, I always have things together, and never ever forget to do the little things. I’m a shocked as you are. Honest. But I digress.

I opted for a rather elaborate looking model, which was the only one that actually fit my phone. This device apparently doubles as some sort of calculator, or maybe a tricorder; the LCD readout on this sucker (yes, an LCD readout on a plug) is massive, probably tacked on by some engineer with a bad idea and too much free time , and most likely pointless. Being trapped by the forces of necessity and nerdishness, I proceeded to the checkout line, where I was immediately battered by a barrage of sales pitches. Exchange follows:

Clerk: Hello. Do you have a Reward Zone card?
Me: No.
Clerk: If you get one, you can get points good toward your purchases here as well as online. Do you have a Best Buy card?
Me: No.
Clerk: It’s 90 days same as cash. Would you like an introductory subscription to Sports Illustrated or Entertainment Weekly? 8 issues free?

By this point, I was starting to feel like I was being presented by verbal pop-up ads, and I felt like clicking them closed with my fists. But I realized the clerk was only doing their job, and was probably being watched at all times to make sure she said everything they had to, or face losing their six dollars an hour.

Me: No.
Clerk: Can I have your phone number?

Despite my reputation as a lady killer, I quickly realized this was not a question that might lead up to a steamy tryst somewhere in the home appliances section. Now they’ve started collecting personal information.

I remember the first time I went into a Radio Shack, ages ago, and got asked for my address, phone number, and date of birth. I felt like they wanted to do a background check before they sold me a spool of speaker wire. As a result, I now avoid that place at all costs. I realize I don’t have to answer their questions (as I won’t give that stuff out to just anyone - I’d better know the person, or at the very least, be given large amounts of cash on the spot), but it’s the principal of giving up my personal information freely so they can make more money. Some people worry about Big Brother in the government. Well, Big Brother has gone private - and all he’s interested in is marketing every last thing he can to you. So I may just be giving up on Best Buy for now, until it’s safe to approach their registers again.

Of course, I say that now, but then I’ll see another album that I need to buy (yes, I buy albums - I have no use for your iPods and your filesharing), and I’ll go crawling back because it’s a dirt cheap loss leader, selling out my pride and my ethics for three dollars off.

Hey, at least I’m honest about it.

Kung-Fu Hustle

They don’t call them the
Axe Gang because they use cheap
deodorant spray.

Alternately slapstick and serious, and well worth a look. You kids who don’t like subtitles should probably stay away, but without them you’d miss one of the best gags in the movie.

I know you kids remember the Soup Nazi from Seinfeld. Even people who didn’t watch Seinfeld knew this guy. I swear, for months I couldn’t stand in line for a meal anywhere without hearing “No Soup For You!” croak out of some loser’s mouth. Well, it seems that Al Yeganeh, the person whom the character was based off of, has decided to start selling his products online and in stores everywhere. The press release is interesting, but it’s the photo from his website that really sells me on this guy and his product:

I’m getting hungry already. He plans to offer flavors like Turkey Chili, and Seafood, Bisque. No word on when his popular Blood of the Innocent Stew will be available, apparently they’re having issues keeping that one fresh in the vacuum pouch.

Old school gamers and lovers of the musical arts: watch this. Bear with the middle part, because the ending makes this sucker shine.

How many of you were disappointed when we entered this new millenium, those many years back? Well, I’m sure some you strange people were disappointed that Y2K didn’t rend the earth asunder as predicted by some, but my disappointement stems from the fact that I did not recieve, nor have I yet to recieve, my government-issued jetpack. It’s 2005, dammit! I should be able to fly to work under my own power in a matter of minutes! I tried writing my Congressman, but all I got was a form letter and a cease-and-desist order. Again. So I was once again feeling lost and dejected, until I stumbled upon this story from CBS news, hailing the not-too-distant-future of flying cars and jetpacks! Huzzah, for I am vindicated! Soon, I too can fly from place to place at my own whim, with nothing to worry about except for all the other lousy pilots who shouldn’t be trusted with such a machine, people who currently do crap like drive in the median or cut you off when you’re trying to switch lanes to make your exit.

As much as I’d like to think this is a great idea, it’s going to have to be, sadly, heavily regulated. Expect laws governing this to be a lot more strict once these things go on sale. Which is sooner than you might think: the AirScooter (/.ed as of this writing), for example, goes on sale later this year, at a price of about 50k.

Still, I forsee a bright future ahead - one where I’m flying my rocketpack to my office, controlling my flight with one hand, and flipping off the a-hole that buzzed me with his aircar with the other.

I love Westshore Pizza. Since the demise of my high school favorite, Caesare’s of New York, at the hands of Publix way back in the day, I lamented the lack of real New York style pizza in the area. Discovering this place was a joy to my grease-saturated heart. The restaurants, for the most part, were nothing much to look at - but then, pizza is never the same when served in a place with bright lights and clean walls. Give me cheap wood tables, chairs with stuffing ripped out in chunks, and two really old arcade games (preferably fighting games, early to mid 90’s), and I’m a happy man.

Of course, I didn’t realize that the reason these places were run down was because the franchisees were paying 48% interest on their franchise fees. It seems that any interest fee over 45% is considered loan-sharking in the state of Florida. Two have been arrested, and police promise “more arrests to come”. This leads me to two questions:

1. Why didn’t these clowns charge a slightly lower percentage rate? Say, 44.9%? Was three percent that crucial to the survival of their business?
2. What kind of sucker takes up a “loan” (which is what the fee is) with that much interest in the first place? How desperate does one have to be? I’m fairly certain you can get a better rate from one of those paycheck forwarding places, and I’m convinced most of those guys are terrorists fascists opportunistic demon spawns from hell.

All right, so that was two meta questions consisting of several sub questions and a statement. But anyway. Hopefully, the franchisees will continue to chug along and I can get my occasional piece of coagulated heart attack, served fresh from the oven to me on stylish paper plates. Otherwise, I’ll have to give up pizza for the most part - large chain pizza is a pale, wretched imitation to this stuff.

Like the last person to arrive at a party that was over long, long ago, I have added Abstract Appeal to my probably-too-short list of blogs I frequent (see “Blog-o-rama”, somewhere on this site’s menu). Just being able to talk about Florida law without making my brain fall out of my skull would make him worth it. But his extensive coverage of the facts in the case surrounding she-who-must-not-be-named, being able to separate fact from fiction with a level head and a clear bias toward the law of the land makes him damn near an authority, a true rarity in this world of political bias and zealotry. I was hesitant to link to him before during the ruckus in the area recently, (as bandwagon as that might be) but now that the world is slowly but surely moving on, I post with full confidence. I’m finding some of this stuff fascinating, and it wasn’t until Matt came along that I learned that judicial decisions could actually be easy to read, as opposed to a brain-melting array of legalese.

And now, she’s a brain surgeon.
It’s a Teneley Albright Daaaaaaaaa-aaaaaay!

Sorry, I woke up with that song stuck in my head this morning, and not even a double dose of Muse and Beck can pry it out of there. Most of you would be able to commiserate if you knew what song I was talking about, but there you go.

Sin City

Brutal, magnificent.
Kevin needs a manicure -
and some therapy.

Additional thoughts: this film might just resurrect Mickey Rourke’s career, his Marv is spot-on perfect, not to mention the best hard-ass on film I’ve ever seen. And while he may be old enough to be her grandfather, who the hell turns down Jessica Alba? Honestly? Finally, for the fans of Frank Miller - are we all in agreement that they should have done A Dame to Kill For instead of The Big Fat Kill?