Thursday, March 31, 2005

They'll Know We Are Christians By Our Fanaticism, Closed-Mindedness, And General Douchebaggery

I'll usually come across something once or twice a month that makes me ashamed to share the same religious label as others of my faith.

This is the latest example.

Genuinely Bad News

And now for the first (and, I hope, the last) remotely serious post on this thing.

This is sad. Man, I thought he was funny. Everybody did, or everybody that was smart enough to recognize talent did.

Crap.

Comedy Central info.

Story one.

Buy his stuff. Trust me.

A List Of Items I Find Myself In The Market For That I Never Knew I Would Want, Let Alone Need

1. Electric nose hair timmer.

Wednesday, March 30, 2005

Alternate Versions of Ryan Adams's La Cienega Just Smiled That Probably Are Less Emotionally Powerful

Highland Just Offered You A Prostitute

La Brea Just Stole Your Car

Cahuenga Just Grinned And Puked On Your Pumas

Sunset Just Sold You High-Priced Pornography

Hollywood Just Gave You The Finger

La Brea Just Stole Your Rental Car

Pico Just Begged For Spare Change

Venice Just Tried To Sell You Flowers Or Oranges, Depending On The Season

The Few, The Proud, The Unpublished

I've created an index site with links back to this one to organize all the reviews I've written to distract myself from the fact that I'm not getting paid to write them.

The site is here.

Tuesday, March 29, 2005

Dear Mr. President,

I was scanning the classified ads on craigslist the other day, something I do when I get bored at work, when I came across the post detailing the open position at the World Bank, specifically the head of said organization. I know you've nominated Paul Wolfowitz for the job, and even though you've announced this publicly, I still think I owe it to myself to try and persuade you to give me the job instead. Dream big, right?

Anyway, I think I'd be great at the job, just great. I've only had one real job since I graduated college, and while some may call that "lack of experience," I prefer to look at it more positively. Specifically, sir, I don't have any training built in that you need to eliminate. I won't insist on doing things my way because I don't have a way, and although I know that makes me sound just like Paulie, I think you'll find I can pull it off better. Heck, Wolfie might get confused in a board meeting and want to ask Rumsfeld if we can start bombing people, and that's no way to deal with your I.T. department. Those people need to be handled just right.

I'm also a good speller. There aren't any typos in this letter, and that's not because I used a computerized spell check; I'm just that good. Impressive, right?

Also: In response to questions from some genuinely puzzled reporters about the validity of your nominating P-Wolf, you responded, "I'd say he's a man with good experiences. He's helped manage a large organization. The World Bank's a large organization." Well, sir, did you know that I myself am no stranger to large organizations? I've waited tables, which requires remembering something like 12 drink orders at a time, and when you throw bread, chips and salsa into the mix, a weaker man might have buckled. But not me, sir. Plus, I went to college, and although your university is larger and more presitigious than mine, I was pretty sober for most of those 4 years, so we can call that a wash. I sometimes had to juggle three classes at once. Three. Think about that when you talk about dealing with "large organizations." Some of those classes were all the way across campus from one another.

I'm a pretty peaceful guy, too. I'd never do something as douchey as go to the mattresses with middle eastern extremists just because I couldn't remember who I was after in the first place. No, I stick to one thing at a time. Focus. Picked it up in college.

In summary, sir, I think I could do the job well, and I'd be honored if you'd consider me for the position. If not, that's fine, too. The Wolf was one of the architects of the invasion of Iraq that's consumed our economy and collective mind for the past 2 years, and that hasn't been too bad, right? He'll do well.

Hang in there, buddy. Just 3 more years.

You're The Craziest Texan I Know, And I Go To Church,

Your Faithful Job Applicant,

Daniel Carlson

Friday, March 25, 2005

Office Space

In a desperate move to get out of fourth place (behind CBS, ABC and Fox), NBC has released its own version of The Office, a remake of the British hit comedy that first aired on the BBC in 2001. The peacock has hardly been lucky in the past with this tactic (Coupling, anyone?), but this time they just might have a modest success on their hands. Unfortunately, next to its predecessor, modest is all the American Office will ever be.

carell Taking over for Ricky Gervais (below, right) as the boss is Steve Carrell (left). David Brent has become Michael Scott, regional manager of a paper company in Scranton, Pa. (Wernham Hogg has become Dunder Mufflin, as well.) Carell is most recognizable from his work on Comedy Central's The Daily Show and small roles in Bruce Almighty and Anchorman. Indeed, for a while there it didn't look like Carell would ever play anything other than a fake newsman, and The Office isn't much of a stretch: self-assured, dimwitted reporter becomes self-assured, dimwitted middle-manager. Carell, though, is smart enough not to play the role as Gervais did. Recreating Gervais's precise blend of smarmy dictator and inept communicator would have been impossible and would have doomed the show from the outset. Carell plays the part as more of a gregarious moron, the clown of a boss that doesn't seem to know his remarks might be racist or sexist. His desire to relate to his coworkers, to be one of the gang, is something anyone who's logged cube time will recognize with a shudder. ("I like to think of myself as a friend first," Carell's character tells a new hire, "a boss second, and probably an entertainer third.")

gervais As for the plot, the American pilot mirrors the British one, down to the last joke and plot twist. A film crew roams around the office, filming the banal daily interactions and interspersing them with interviews with the employees. Maybe it's because NBC is desperate, but someone there actually had the wits to preserve as much of the feel of the original as possible: no laugh track (the presence of which can damage a show), documentary-style cuts, etc. The storyline of the new series diverges from the old next week (in a sensitivity-training seminar), and it's at that point we'll see whether the show can make it on its own. When it's just recycling the jokes from the original, the new version pales in comparison.

[Do yourself a favor and just buy the original and the series finale.]

Thursday, March 24, 2005

How I looked at this morning's department meeting:

me at fuji

How I actually felt at this morning's department meeting:

scarface

Wednesday, March 23, 2005

Carlson Family Reunion, 1976

Ah, the good old days.

TheGuys76

Tuesday, March 22, 2005

Notes I Took At My Department Meeting, 3.22.05

"Brainstorming" is such a stupid word.

The department head, Kim, just used the phrase "automated/data/web/interfacey kind of stuff" in reference to our computer system. She used her hands during this, as if her vague gestures would help us understand.

Is it wrong to pray for the spontaneous outbreak of a small fire?

There's a higher-up named Steve Martin, and every time he gets mentioned I feel a lift in my spirits and wonder if Steve Martin decided to quit comedy and work in academic publishing. But it's not the same guy.

Names of desktop color samples in an office furniture catalog: Rhinestone Cowboy, Pearl of the Orient, Gateway to the Future, and, I swear, Graveyard of the Atlantic. This transcends brilliance, and will probably be the high point of my time here at the company.

Joyce looks homeless, I mean seriously without residence or legal tender or shampoo. She's got to be at least 68. She should be down at the bus stop telling strangers about her cat, Mr. Sparkles Fantastic, not here in my office, walking all over my will to live with her orthopedic shoes and gnarled yellow hands.

We're currently discussing the height of our cubicle walls, whether this should be changed, if so should it be higher or lower, etc. Literally no worse way to spend these minutes.

These chips are stale. One snack plate a month, and it's shot. Awesome.

I'm the only man in the room who didn't fill out a bracket. I still think somebody made up Gonzaga. Nothing like a little awkward conversation to kick off a meeting.

These chairs are comfortable.

Thursday, March 17, 2005

This Just In

Apparently, baseball players sometimes use steriods to enhance their abilities.

In related news, rain falls from the sky and 2+2=4.

Friday, March 11, 2005

Review: The Jacket

The Jacket
Starring Adrien Brody, Kiera Knightley, Jennifer Jason Leigh
Directed by John Maybury

2.5 stars (out of 4)

A half-gelled blend of social commentary, star-crossed love story, and time-jumping Vonnegut rip-off, The Jacket succeeds at being unremarkable in an era when most films are praised for undue glory or reviled for poor quality and low ambitions. Most trailers advertise The Jacket as some kind of modern-day thriller, which it most certainly isn’t: teens looking for the latest J-horror jaunt won’t find it here. What they will find is an interesting story put to only modest use in the hands of a talented but seemingly uninterested director, an Oscar-winning actor and the latest pretty face to come across the pond.

Jack Starks (Adrien Brody) is shot in the head during the first Gulf War, and his wound damages his brain’s ability to distinguish fact from fiction, reality from fantasy, etc. He also has memory problems. After the injury, we follow him back to the States, where he’s hitchhiking through Vermont (who knows why). He helps a woman and her young daughter who have been stranded with car problems, and he’s later picked up by a driver (Brad Renfro) who’s shortly pulled over by the police. The Stranger, as Renfro’s character is billed, shoots the cop and leaves the weapon on the ground next to where Jack has fallen, knocked unconscious when the cop draws his gun and fires, accidentally hitting Jack. Jack awakens with no memory of the incident and is imprisoned in a mental institution. It’s at this turning point that film needed to actually begin forwarding a plot, or at least pretending to do so. Sadly, from here it just meanders through science fiction and visceral Euro-art-house cinema and fate-defying romance, without the conviction to pull off either one.

The head doctor, Becker (Kris Kristofferson), apprehends Jack from his cell one night, places him in a straightjacket and slides him into a morgue drawer for 3 hours. Becker’s goal with the treatment is to break Jack and “reset” his psyche in an attempt to jog his fuzzy memory. Jack goes into the drawer and we go with him, in the first and longest of the film’s several intense scenes where we do nothing but watch, uncomfortable and helpless, as Jack struggles limply against his restraints, cries, and suffers from a series of violent flashbacks. This is where director John Maybury shines, so to speak: the barrage of images and sound thrown at Jack/us is genuinely unnerving. I felt claustrophobic and cramped the entire time, staring at Adrien Brody’s eyes and mouth and drops of sweat in extreme close-up. In the jacket, Jack has visions of the year 2007 (the film takes place in 1992). More than visions, he actually interacts with people he sees, including Jackie (Kiera Knightley), the girl whose mother Jack helped on the side of the road, now all grown up.

Jackie’s mother died years ago, and she’s actually got a lot of information on hand about the specific nature and date of Jack’s death, only a few days away from Jack’s place in time. It’s not a particularly meaty role, but Knightley does nothing with it. Her previous roles (The Pirates of the Caribbean, Love Actually) have been short of spectacular, as well, but at least she was surrounded by actors and set pieces more worth watching. Her performance in The Jacket consists of biting her lip and looking disaffected without trying too hard to look disaffected. She creates zero chemistry with Brody, who only falls in love with her because the screenplay demanded it.

And so, Jack find himself jumping from his time to the future whenever he’s put back in the jacket and into the drawer. His visits become about learning more of the details surrounding his death, then become more about spending time with Jackie, who turns out to be the love of his life. Whether Jack discovers how he dies becomes inconsequential next to the moments he gets to spend with Jackie before slipping back into the past.

It’s in these weakly structured escalating plot points that the film loses its audience because it loses itself. No one seems to know what the film should be, and none more so than Maybury, under whose control the film glistens with style and flails about in blind and fruitless search of substance. Every 20 minutes or so you realize you’re watching a different movie, with a different style and heart and goal. Jack resumes his voice-over narration in the film’s final moments, a jarring touch that made me realize his narration had only appeared for a few lines at the beginning before disappearing. And that’s The Jacket: a few ideas about a movie that never quite add up to one.

I've Been Told That I Live Here, Although I Find This Hard To Believe

Click here to see the photo hosted on Wikipedia under the entry for Los Angeles. I don't think I've ever seen the city look like this. All the smog and porn has been Photoshopped out. To see skies that clear you have to drive 30 miles west, past Calabasas. Thousand Oaks: clear skies. L.A.: not so much.

Wednesday, March 09, 2005

This Is The Absolute Last Time I Do This, Regardless Of How Boring Work Gets

This one caps it off. Most of these have wound up eerily accurate, although more in the Chinese-restaurant-placemat-with-the-animals-on-it way than in any kind of actual prophetic insight. Still, going on would do more harm than good. No more book quiz.




You're Mother Night!

by Kurt Vonnegut

Nobody knows what to believe about you, and you know least of all. You spent most of your time convinced that the ends justify the means, but your means were, well, downright mean! And the end is nigh. Meanwhile all you want is to travel back in time, if not to change, then to just delight in the way it used to be. You are who you pretend to be. Oh yes, you're the great pretender.


Take the Book Quiz
at the Blue Pyramid.

Tuesday, March 08, 2005

I'll Be Killing Myself Shortly




You're The Dictionary!

by Merriam-Webster

You're one of those know-it-all types, with an amazing amount of knowledge at your command. People really enjoy spending time with you in very short spurts, but hanging out with you for a long time tends to bore them. When folks really need an authority to refer to, however, you're the one they seek. You're an exceptional speller and very well organized.


Take the Book Quiz
at the Blue Pyramid.

Notes I Took At My Department Meeting, 3.8.05

Learn the names of my bosses.

Hungry.

Do dress socks need to match the color of your pants? Yes.

Find a local BBQ place; call it a "joint."

Why does everyone write so much in these meetings? What are they writing? Should I be paying attention?

Men crossing their legs: knee on knee or ankle on knee? I say ankle on knee.

Girl from I.T. with the Scottish accent: awesome.

Scott's hair is always kept cut very short. Is this because he's a Mormon? I would convert if I were him.

Really hungry. There should really be snacks in this thing, or a deli plate. No hummus.

Monday, March 07, 2005

How Did They Know I Use Plants For Clothing

[Imagine a picture of Hawaii, or the state flag of Hawaii, or someone from Hawaii. Or something Hawaiian. You understand.]

You're Hawaii!

When they first meet you, few people can tell whether you want to say
hello or goodbye. Either way, most of them will end up saying that you're their favorite person to visit, if only they could afford the trip. But your soft and warm image is belied by an explosive undercurrent in your personality than can leave you drenched with tears or boiling with anger for days on end. You are rather fond of using plants as clothing.



Take the State Quiz
at the Blue Pyramid.

Welcome To My World, Won't You Come On In

I feel this is too important not to share. I even have a cameo.

Friday, March 04, 2005

Casual Friday Means Pretending To Work While Actually Doing More Things Like This




You're The Things They Carried!

by Tim O'Brien

Harsh and bitter, you tell it like it is. This usually comes in short, dramatic spurts of spilling your guts in various ways. You carry a heavy load, and this has weighed you down with all the horrors that humanity has to offer. Having seen and done a great deal that you aren't proud of, you have no choice but to walk forward, trudging slowly through ongoing mud. In the next life, you will come back as a water buffalo.


Take the Book Quiz
at the Blue Pyramid.

Thursday, March 03, 2005

This Is Better Than Being A Colombian




You're Ulysses!

by James Joyce

Most people are convinced that you don't make any sense, but compared to what else you could say, what you're saying now makes tons of sense. What people do understand about you is your vulgarity, which has convinced people that you are at once brilliant and repugnant. Meanwhile you are content to wander around aimlessly, taking in the sights and sounds of the city. What you see is vast, almost limitless, and brings you additional fame. When no one is looking, you dream of being a Greek folk hero.


Take the Book Quiz
at the Blue Pyramid.

Recommendations For Better Living

Lost
Seriously, the coolest show on TV. Pure story, pure hooks, compulsively watchable. If 24 had a smarter, better-looking older brother who could totally school his little brother on the court and in life, it would be Lost.

"The Widow," by The Mars Volta, from their new release Frances the Mute
A big, howling rock song full of poetry and pain. The best thing on the radio right now. Guaranteed to change your life for the better, or you don't have a soul.

Short lunches
You get to go home half an hour early. All the fun of cheating the time clock, none of the criminal repercussions.

Gunner Palace
In theaters March 4. A documentary about the young soldiers in Iraq and their lives (and deaths) there. In a rare show of rationality, the MPAA has decided to release Gunner Palace with a PG-13 rating instead of an R, despite the fact that the film contains prominent use of the F-word. Producers lobbied for the lower rating, arguing that any young person old enough to be targeted for recruitment should be able to see what it's all about.

Soft 'n' Chewy Chips Ahoy
I am a big man, and these things are crack for me. Sweet, loving, nonjudgmental crack.

Radiohead
Dude, they never went away. Long live 1994.

Shaving at night
Saves time in the morning. Plus, motor skills being what they are early in the morning, it's not a good idea to roll right out of bed and begin rubbing your face with a sharp surface.

Books by David Sedaris
Awesome.

Arrested Development, specifically Will Arnett
So funny. Watch the show once and your interested, twice and your hooked forever. Get the DVD set of the first season, out now. Fox shortened Arrested's second (current) season from 22 to 18 episodes, so it looks like we might not be able to enjoy new episodes much longer. In related news, executives at Fox suck.

The article "the" in front of words/phrases
A commonality on the west coast when referring to highways (e.g., the 101) that only gets better when used for everyday items (e.g., "Time to watch the Lost," "I've got the stomach pains."). A small way to infuse variety into a life divided into cubes.

Thomas New York style bagels
I tried these once and never looked back. Away with you, fools with your Van De Kamp's. These are sometimes tougher to find in the store but are always worth the wait and effort.

Untucked shirt at the office
Why should they care? You show up everyday and do your work somewhere in the vicinity of the best of your abilities. The untucked shirt relaxes your mind.

This Was Entirely Uncalled For, And Quite Surprising, And Also Kind Of Disturbing

I took the following quiz, from a link through the Sojourners e-mail, to determine what country I am. I figured I'd wind up with the U.S., or maybe somewhere in Europe, what with my affection for indoor plumbing and germ-free meals. But the result came back that I am Texas, leaving me thinking:

1. Do the authors of the Web site consider Texas to be its own country?
2. Are any other states given such ranking?
3. How long until I lose my job?

I had no particular desire to wind up with any specific state in the U.S. I figured my dislike for soccer and respect for clean laundry would land me in some English-speaking place. But this was rather bizarre. (And to top it off, I seem to be classified as quite an a**hole, although I can't tell if this is because the site is predisposed to dislike me or Texas.)




You're Texas!

You aren't really much of your own person, but everyone around
you wishes you'd go away, so you might as well be independent.  You're sort of loud-mouthed and abrasive, but you do have a fair amount of power.  You like big trucks, big cattle, and big oil rigs.  And sometimes you really smell.  But it's not all bad, you're big enough to have some soft spots somewhere in all that redneck madness.

Take the Country Quiz at the Blue Pyramid



So then I took the quiz again, and wound up in Colombia, which is worse than Texas because in Texas people are crazy and shoot animals for no reason and in Colombia people shoot other Colombians.



You're Colombia!

You do a lot of drugs, and these have kind of distorted your view of reality, to the point that everyone looks like an enemy.  You keep trying to restore order over your schizophrenic world view, but you don't even know which goal is your own and which is someone else's.  You're pretty sure someone needs to be punished for all this, but who that is changes all the time.  Things would be a lot better for you if you switched to coffee, or even to decaf, but all this money would be hard to give up.

Take the Country Quiz at the Blue Pyramid



I don't even like coffee.

So I'm either an oil-loving moron or a drug-addled mental patient. There doesn't seem to be much wiggle room. Thanks, Internet.

I'm The Boss, Need The Info

Somebody posted a comment on this blog on Feb. 23, suggesting another slogan for Abilene: "We put the fun in fundamentalism." I thought it was funny, but it was posted anonymously. I have no way to know who did it, and am far too stupid to attempt to deduce the identity of the writer, so I wanted to ask for whoever did it to reply to this and let me know who you are. I'd really appreciate it. It goes without saying that there is no prize involved; I'm asking because I'm curious.

Wednesday, March 02, 2005

Colored Bracelets Are For Suckers; While We're At It, Let's Get Rid Of Those Magnetic Yellow Ribbons, Too

Because I grew up in Texas, I was one of the many who supported Lance Armstrong's repeated Tour de France victories. Although I didn't follow his career as closely as some, I still enjoyed seeing him do so well. It's the same as people in a city supporting their team, only on a state level.

So when the bracelets came out, I liked them. $1. Yellow. Rubber. Live Strong. All the money went to cancer research. They caught on quickly among youth, and were soon spotted everywhere; Kerry even brandished one on the campaign trail. Everybody had one because it was the thing to have, and although the desire to be considered trendy might not be the best motive for charity donations, all the bracelets still meant a lot of money for a good cause. If only Von Dutch had been so socially relevant.

But then, as often happens with trends, things went way too far. A variety of colored bracelets can now be purchased everywhere from the Internet to gas stations and convenience stores, with varying amounts benefiting actual causes. Camouflage bracelets, priced at $3, are being sold at 7-11 stores, but only $1 actually goes to support the troops. You can buy a $2 bracelet for tsunami relief, but only $1 goes to Southeast Asia. And, changing money right inside the temple, you can buy a whole host of products designed to display your support for any cause you like. How much goes to the actual cause? Who cares; you're stylin'.

It's just not possible to cover every cause with a bracelet: there aren't enough colors, and there aren't enough legitimate retailers more devoted to health care research than personal profits. Purple bracelets now represent causes like abused animals, foster children, battered women, people with Alzheimer's, and many more. Gray bracelets support brain cancer, lung cancer, diabetes, disabled children, mental illness, etc. There are too many worthwhile causes and not enough bracelets or arms in America.

But there's a bigger problem here than the lack of a color palette, one hinted at by 7-11's patriotic desire to support the troops with as small a percentage of their profits as possible. Americans are conspicuous consumers. We don't want our giving to be just worthwhile; we want to be noticed doing it. How many people wearing bracelets gave regularly to charity before, or will in the future? How many people with magnetic "Support the Troops" ribbons on their cars are actually concerned with financially supporting the troops? Chris Rock, hosting the Oscars Sunday night, asked for a round of applause for the troops in Iraq, and there couldn't have been a dumber place to pledge emotional support than in the Kodak Theatre surrounded by people netting -- netting -- millions per picture. This year's nominees, as have those in the past, received baskets of gifts backstage. Last year's baskets were valued around $12,000 each; multiply that by more than 100 nominees and you've got a hefty chunk of change that Hollywood could have sent to the troops they claim to support. After all, does a celebrity who gets so many things free each year really need another basket of gifts that could have provided better armor to the men and women being injured everyday?

But they never would have given up those baskets, baskets that most people don't know about. No, it was enough to say that this round of applause is for the fighting men and women in Iraq; now, back to the show. For a group of people supposedly out of touch with mainstream America, they sure do mirror our hypocritical giving habits well.

And so, I am hereby asking everyone in the country to take off their bracelets. Better yet, buy a yellow one and don't wear it. Your money will still go to a good cause, and you might actually feel good about giving to a charity without needing to be recognized for it.