Have rain, will muse

Most people don't get up at 8:00 in the morning on a Sunday--at least, not if they can help it.  Especially teenagers.  Go on Facebook before noon and odds are it'll be deserted, nobody foolish enough to log on that early to chat. 

Most people also don't get up at 8:00 in the morning on Sunday in the pouring rain to run.  Especially teenagers. 

Which only goes to show the exhaustively-proven point that I'm not most people.  Or most teenagers. 

Yes, I admit it, I did get up at 8:13 (had to hit "Snooze" on the alarm clock twice), pull on a long-sleeved synthetic shirt and shorts, and slip out the door for a drizzling run.  Nothing much, just a short warm-up jog followed by maybe ten hill repeats and another short jog back home.  It was cold; the wind would pick up every minute or so and blast my drenched body, making me wonder if an air-breathing shirt was really a good idea that morning.  Water beaded down my face and streamed down my neck, occassionally forcing me to blink and shake my head.  I swear a quart of water would fly out of my hair every time I did this.  But I noticed more than anything the serenity of the moment: the empty streets (only three cars on a normally busy nearby thoroughfare), the light harmony of the raindrops, the comforting shades of gray (always wondered, is it "gray" or "grey"?) in the sky...  I loved it, soaking-wet and all. 

Ironically, I hate running in the cold.  My friends taunt me when it's seventy degrees, asking my opinion on the "really great weather" we're having at practice.  They roll their eyes when I stand my ground and firmly declare my preference for warmer temperatures, ninety degrees with a slight breeze if possible, thank you very much.  They laugh when I run stiff-legged, bemoaning the infernally cold (70-degree) chill that stiffens my muscles and prevents my legs from fully extending. 

But last week I had my revenge. 

It was Friday, the last period at school.  Northern California was throughly socked in with thunderheads, with snow as low as several hundred feet above sea-level (I used to live in the foothills, and friends who still live up there are celebrating snow-days from school, lucky them).  I faced the approaching dismissal with growing apprehension, for then I'd be out in the cold for about an hour, running in the rain and hopefully retaining the biological capability to have children.  As the classrooms emptied and people streamed to their lockers, I changed in the bathroom and walked outside.  As I went to put my stuff away, I passed a fellow cross-country team runner (the season had ended a few weeks ago, but I knew he was still training for the upcoming track season in spring).  He took one look at my attire--laced New Balances, synthetic long-sleeved shirt I'd bought at at the high school Cross-Country State Finals in Fresno, and Cal-logo athletic shorts--and whistled softly.  "You going out today?" he asked.  I nodded and asked if he was.  "Hell no, man!  It's too cold!" he replied.  Shaking his head in wonderment, he left waving goodbye.  Despite the cold, I laughed; here I was, the guy who hated running in the cold, being told by this other guy, our team leader no less, who'd run in far worse conditions than this paltry rain, had just told me it was too cold.  Grinnig and shaking my own head, I turned and left for the trail. 

Why do I bring any of this up?  Oddly enough, poetry.  And before those of you who read the last post flinch and groan in despair, hear me out.  Personally, I think the weather is to blame.  I haven't written a word of creative writing since, what, last summer?  And now--BAM--twice in one month.  Anyway, I was standing in the rain yesterday, having helped my mother put up holdiay lights (isicles and sasssenach--does anyone know how to spell that?), and my mind went into spiritual hyperdrive.  There's something about the peace and solitude of a good rain, it just has a calming aura, a soothing essence.  I can't really describe it, though not for lack of trying, as evidenced in "There's Something About Rain", below:

There's Somthing About Rain

There's something about rain:

The soft pitter of leaves,

The constant patter on concrete,

The concentric impacts in the puddles...

Heaven's floodgates readily lend

Themselves to quiet

Contemplation. 

It's not much, but hey, I just ran at 8:00 in the morning on Sunday in the pouring rain. 

Depressed mental wanderings

Poetry has always been my downfall; I can never write what I feel to be "good" poetry without feeling soiled, as though I'm shoving meaning artificially into each stanza.  My English teachers tell me I'm crazy, so maybe I was doing it right to start out with, but eventually I wrote a poem I finally felt good about.  It was for my mother's birthday, and I just through inhibitions to the winds and tried not so much to write as to flow, letting the words pass naturally from brain to hand to pencil to paper and, eventually, to Microsoft Office 2003 Word.  I was so proud of myself; it'd felt good, I hadn't so much as capitalized a single motif or emphasized a single theme, and I felt refreshed.  Finally, I'd written poetry.  Or so I thought. 

When my mother finally read it, she sat me down and said, "It's a beautifully written poem..."  I was prepared to offer my ever-modest denials, prepared to mutter how it wasn't anything at all and I hoped she'd had a really enjoyable birthday, when she dropped the bombshell: "But what does it mean?" 

I can't remember giving her a coherent answer.  I was stunned, speechless, incredulous.  Mean?  It had to mean something?  My writing philosophy, already messed up before, was thrown into even greater turmoil.  I couldn't believe it.  Here I had fought to write a completely natural-feeling poem without strenuously laboring to forcibly inject meaning into a poem, and I was asked, "But what does it mean?" 

A year later, I'm still recovering, much to the detriment of my AP English classwork.  Back in elementary and middle school, I'd had it all figured out.  But, just as many high schoolers seemed to find their written voice, I'd lost mine.  I'm still reevaluating how I analyze literature and poetry, and still haven't figured out how to write them to my satisfaction (teachers still tell me I write well, which is something). 

Anyway, this all comes up because I wrote a poem tonight.  I'm not sure why, I have tons of homework I could--make that should--be doing.  Maybe it was hormones.  Maybe it was the depressing yet inspiring tones of Rob Dougan pumping out of my computer speakers.  I don't know, but I feel it encompasses, well, how I feel.  About life.  About how it happens.  About how it happens to me. 

Call me depressed, disturbed, whatever.  I've found I'm always attracted to darker, more melodic tunes, especially movie and video game soundtracks by the like of Hans Zimmer, James Newton Howard, and Clint Mansell.  And as I've progressed through teenage puberty, depression (or hormones or whatever it is) is increasingly becoming a major part of my life.  That sounds ominous, and it shouldn't; I just mean that, more and more, I'm stopping before I fall asleep to contemplate how little I've done, how little I can do, and the chances of being able to achieve even that.  Being a novice at relationships probably doesn't help, and I've been forced at times to suppress this "depression" in favor of buckling down to schoolwork, which I'm sure makes me more irritable.  Anyway, enough psychoanalyzing; here's "Alone" (I couldn't come up with a better title):

Alone


Yell down the hall

And 'cross the glade,

Yet the anguish within

Refuses to fade.

‘Tis my lot to cry,

My lot to die

In the pouring rain, alone.

What humanity is this, that

Holds the scissors, though

The line is young and ripe?

Through man’s eyes the child saw

And could not comprehend,

His whimpers lost in the wind.

 - ManEatingBadger -

Happy Halloween!

Halloween hasn't been much of a big deal for me since middle school, back when I was more prone to begging door-to-door for candy, ambushing hapless fellow trick-or-treaters with Super Soakers, and other such juvenile pasttimes.  But tonight I proved I could still get in the spirit of things, albeit after a run, nap, and an early snack. 

My friend wanted to carve pumpkins; I wasn't exactly in the mood, but after a little prodding decided to go along.  While he set about carving a particularly nasty looking jack-o-lantern (at right), I puzzled over designs for mine.  Nothing particularly appealing came to mind and my eyes kept wandering over to the football game on the 46'' (small, I know, but I can't convince my parents otherwise) flatscreen in the living room.  Cal Berkeley was playing Arizona State, and it would come down to a nail-biting 23-21 Cal victory. 

As I watched, I realized the flowing "Cal" script would be perfect for a pumpkin, if only I could carve it.  Then, as the game progressed and the Bears looked about to lose 21-20, I thought carving "Cal" might not be such a great idea.  Finally, Giorgio Tavecchio chipped in an easy (relative term here, since he missed an earlier one) field goal to cinch the final, but for a while it was a near thing.  Tempe was going wild. 

I was watching the whole time, afraid I'd have to scrap my idea and carve yet another cliched menacing jack-o-lantern.  But the instant Cal declined both ASU penalties as time ran out, I leapt into action, furiously sketching an approximate outline before laboriously carving my creation. 

The result wasn't exactly aesthetically pleasing in daylight, but once the sun set and after we lit some candles inside the thing positively glowed.  Facebook responded positively (mostly) to uploaded photos of it (several diehard Stanford friends were unsurprisingly rather disparaging), so I feel those were two hours well-spent. 

Happy Halloween! 

 - ManEatingBadger -

Reconstruction

Those of you following this blog may have noted the not-so-subtle template changes and post removals over the past week or so with growing dread and horror of the inner turmoil this (man-eating) badger must be going through.

I'm here to tell you otherwise.

Recently, I attended a blogging seminar at a journalism convention and, while I really didn't learn anything I didn't already know, it dawned on me that perhaps I'd been overloading my trusty Of Regurgiations and Nutshells with seemingly random articles on a multitude of topics.  And I thought that, while that may be the business model for some bloggers, it wasn't so for me.  So, upon arriving home, I dashed to my PC and set about creating three new, more focused blogs, each branching off from this one and specializing in a particular interest of mine.  The first I made for geopolitical security discussions: DefenceTalk.  I had trouble naming the second until I reevaluated what the blog was meant to be: an open-minded and explorative commentary on religious and political controversy and policy.  Eventually, I concluded that its purpose was to expand my Horizons--hence, the name.  Finally, I decided that my ever-so-popular reviews required a new home dedicated entirely to them, so the PPR - Picks, Pans, and Reviews was born. 

After all that, I decided my original blog needed a new look to go with its new main purpose of detailing certain joys, sorrows, and other episodes of my life.  You now read the result--Nutshells--of that unending labor. 

Enjoy!  And please keep in mind that, while I'm in school, posting will be limited.  At the moment I'm more concerned with moving posts from here to their new aforementioned homes.  So, in reality, I haven't deleted anything, just started anew. 

 - ManEatingBadger -

Catalina, Baby!

Some photos of Two Harbors and other nearby locales...

Catalina

Enjoy!

Prolonged Absence

Okay, I admit it, I haven't been entirely faithful in my delivery of written material. No, this has nothing to do with plagiarism, more with my schedule. Long story short, school's started up again, I'm buckling down to two APs, the school newspaper, varsity Cross-Country team, and the school play, all while moving from two houses into two new ones, practicing violin (where time allows), and somehow making it down to Santa Catalina Island over Labor Day weekend. Down I-5. With a 25-foot Regal Commodore 242 following us.

Lol pictures will be up shortly, I took some amazing hikes around Two Harbors.

Point is, I probably won't be posting much, at least regularly, for a while. If I have time to kill, then yeah I'll work on something, but this blog's going on the back burner for now.

Keep the faith,

ManEatingBadger

Wow...

Every once in a while, I come across a YouTube video or forwarded E-mail or song that is just so amazing I have to post it here (as you may have noticed). Well, here we go again: "Mad World" by Gary Jules and Michael Andrews.



I first found this song through that video, the result of a YouTube search for "World in Conflict" trailers. This is, obviously, a fan-made trailer using the song, which it attributes to the Gears of War game soundtrack. Doing a little sleuthing of my own, I found that "Mad World" was never used in Gears of War (at least, not on the official soundtrack) but was used in the official release trailer. The song actually originated in the 2001 film Donnie Darko, along with an alternate mix:



Stay tuned for more such interesting tidbits, plus an in-the-works World in Conflict review!

Where Has Summer Gone? :(

Well, where'd it go, does anyone know? Lol, my attempt at Dr. Seuss... okay, nevermind. Point is, summer kinda flew by, which we always seem to say every year, but it seemed like this one especially flew by. And no, I was not having fun (half of the time).

For better or for worse, this summer my family decided to find a new house to live in until I'm off to college, and so I spent much of the past coupla months lugging furniture down stairs, arround obstacles, back up stairs, and into various new rooms. There's a company called "Two Guys and a Truck" that we were considering sueing because that was pretty much us: two worn-out guys and one brown old F-250 pick-up.

Apart from that, there were other demands, so numerous I can't recall them (seriously), and I was unable to accomplish several things I planned to, namely writing a manuscript. I've always wanted to write books, which seems to be a pretty common desire, but I've never had the time. So far, all I've got to show for a few hours' effort is two pages. Single-spaced, true, but still only two pages of what should be two hundred at least! Ah well, next summer then (yeah, right)...

In the meantime, violin, APs, and cross-country control my schedule.

Something Different, Or, to Quote Huell Howser: 'That's Amaaaazing!'

No, I did not have a religious experience, meet the president, climb Kilimanjaro, come out of the closet (not that that was ever an issue, or necessary; I'm not gay, not that that's a bad thing), get a sex change, or anything like that. No, I'm up near Lake Tahoe - I ran, I biked, and, just now, I mountain-biked.

I know, total anticlimax, I'm sorry, but it really was amazing, and having only just finished it, my blood's pumped on adrenaline, so I have to write about it. I'm hanging out in Serene Lakes, a quiet community off the Soda Springs exit from Interstate 80 that features two lakes, Serena and Dulzura (named after the daughters of some king; on Google Maps, they're called the Ice Lakes, hence the name of a nearby Ice Lakes Lodge). Situated in the world-renowned Royal Gorge cross-country ski area (that, being a downhill skier, I never took advantage of), it's really quite peaceful and picturesque, and just minutes from ski resorts like Sugar Bowl. Anyway...

[dinner break]

Just had the most amazing dinner, but I'll get to that. A friend of mine showed up around 5:00 and expressed a desire to take our mountain bikes on the trail; he'd just bought a new Cannondale, and I had an old Trek. I was quite willing to go, which kinda surprised him considering I'd just gotten back from a four-mile run a few minutes before, my second such run today. I told him I needed ten minutes and a coupla Gatorade shots, and I'd be good. Two such shots, a piece of toast with strawberry jam, and ten minutes later, we took off for a fire/logging road accross from the Ice Lakes lodge. I'd walked down part of the road before, but never far, or with a bike.

Was I in for it.

Going down the road, we followed Serene Creek as it winded down a ravine. Rocks and potholes were everywhere, and we had one helluva bumpy ride, made worse by the fact that we'd have to climb back up what we'd just rode down. We had to pull off to the side and hold our breath as a couple of pick-ups drove by, leaving whirling walls of dust for us to go through.

But what we found made it all worth it.

Unfortunately, I forgot to pack a camera, so these aren't my photos; top from http://www.panoramio.com/photo/2874239, bottom from http://gambolinman.blogspot.com/2005/08/north-fork-american-river-100-hours-of.html

By this time, we were dreading our return trip, so we decided to turn around and head back lest we add even more distance to be picked up later. The climb was hard, easy gears all the way up, but once we hit asphalt at the lodge it was smooth sailing all the way home, where, lo-and-behold, dinner was waiting: tacos, baby! Corn and wheat tortillas, grilled chicken, black beans, corn, lettuce, diced tomatoes, grated cheese, cilantro... perfection, just what we wanted after a grueling bike outing.
We'll definitely be back on that trail soon. With lunch, water, and a camera.

[Man-Eating-Badger] Begins

It's come to my attention that many readers (it's true, you exist!) find my chosen username interesting and somewhat comical, which is perfectly fine and dandy. But I guess it's time you all learned the story behind the name "Man-Eating Badger".

Unfortunately, my name's story was never nominated for any Emmys, or even made into a Hollywood blockbuster, but all the same...

It all started when... actually, I can't remember exactly where I was or what I was doing, but somehow I ended up clicking on what I thought was one of those faux-news links; y'know, the tabloids screaming about Bush's involvement in a 9/11 cover-up or something equally inane. Here's the URL: http://news.bbc.co.uk/2/hi/middle_east/6295138.stm

'We can categorically state that we have not released man-eating badgers into the area.' - Major Mike Shearer

I promptly fell out of my chair laughing before I could finish the article, which I could see was kosher BBC. One of my favorite lines: "UK military spokesman Major Mike Shearer said: 'We can categorically state that we have not released man-eating badgers into the area.'"

And that, kids, is how I came by the handle of "Man-Eating Badger."

Phobiaphobia - Fear of Phobias

Phobias are the most common mental disorder in the U.S. While not comprehensive, this phobia list offers a glimpse of the many phobias that can have a serious impact on an individual's life.

A
Achluophobia - Fear of darkness.
Acrophobia - Fear of heights.
Agliophobia - Fear of pain.
Agoraphobia - Fear of open spaces or crowds.
Aichmophobia - Fear of needles or pointed objects.
Amaxophobia - Fear of riding in a car.
Androphobia - Fear of men.
Anginophobia - Fear of angina or choking.
Anthrophobia - Fear of flowers.
Anthropophobia - Fear of people or society.
Aphenphosmphobia - Fear of being touched.
Arachnophobia - Fear of spiders.
Arithmophobia - Fear of numbers.
Astraphobia - Fear of thunder and lightening.
Ataxophobia - Fear of disorder or untidiness.
Atelophobia - Fear of imperfection.
Atychiphobia - Fear of failure.
Autophobia - Fear of being alone.

B
Bacteriophobia - Fear of bacteria.
Barophobia - Fear of gravity.
Bathmophobia - Fear of stairs or steep slopes.
Batrachophobia - Fear of amphibians.
Belonephobia - Fear of pins and needles.
Bibliophobia - Fear of books.
Botanophobia - Fear of plants.

C
Cacophobia - Fear of ugliness.
Catagelophobia - Fear of being ridiculed.
Catoptrophobia - Fear of mirrors.
Chionophobia - Fear of snow.
Chromophobia - Fear of colors.
Chronomentrophobia - Fear of clocks.
Claustrophobia - Fear of confined spaces.
Coulrophobia - Fear of clowns.
Cyberphobia - Fear of computers.
Cynophobia - Fear of dogs.

D
Dendrophobia - Fear of trees.
Dentophobia - Fear of dentists.
Domatophobia - Fear of houses.
Dystychiphobia - Fear of accidents.

E
Ecophobia - Fear of the home.
Elurophobia - Fear of cats.
Entomophobia - Fear of insects.
Ephebiphobia - Fear of teenagers.
Equinophobia - Fear of horses.

G
Gamophobia - Fear of marriage.
Genuphobia - Fear of knees.
Glossophobia - Fear of speaking in public.
Gynophobia - Fear of women.

H
Heliophobia - Fear of the sun.
Hemophobia - Fear of blood.
Herpetophobia - Fear of reptiles.
Hydrophobia - Fear of water.

I
Iatrophobia - Fear of doctors.
Insectophobia - Fear of insects.

K
Koinoniphobia - Fear of rooms.

L
Leukophobia - Fear of the color white.
Lilapsophobia - Fear of tornadoes and hurricanes.
Lockiophobia - Fear of childbirth.

M
Mageirocophobia - Fear of cooking.
Melanophobia - Fear of the color black.
Microphobia - Fear of small things.
Mysophobia - Fear of dirt and germs.

N
Necrophobia - Fear of death or dead things.
Noctiphobia - Fear of the night.
Nosocomephobia - Fear of hospitals.

O
Obesophobia - Fear of gaining weight.
Octophobia - Fear of the figure 8.
Ombrophobia - Fear of rain.
Ophidiophobia - Fear of snakes.
Ornithophobia - Fear of birds.

P
Papyrophobia - Fear of paper.
Pathophobia - Fear of disease.
Pedophobia - Fear of children.
Philophobia - Fear of love.
Phobophobia - Fear of phobias.
Podophobia - Fear of feet.
Porphyrophobia - Fear of the color purple.
Pteridophobia - Fear of ferns.
Pteromerhanophobia - Fear of flying.
Pyrophobia - Fear of fire.

S
Scolionophobia - Fear of school.
Selenophobia - Fear of the moon.
Sociophobia - Fear of social evaluation.
Somniphobia - Fear of sleep.

T
Tachophobia - Fear of speed.
Technophobia - Fear of technology.
Tonitrophobia - Fear of thunder.
Trypanophobia - Fear of injections.

V-Z
Venustraphobia - Fear of beautiful women.
Verminophobia - Fear of germs.
Wiccaphobia - Fear of witches and witchcraft.
Xenophobia - Fear of strangers or foreigners.
Zoophobia - Fear of animals.

*list from http://psychology.about.com/od/phobias/a/phobialist.htm

Amazing...

I recently saw an absolutely incredible animated short on YouTube, and just had to upload it here. So, here it is: "The Piano", a short film by Aidan Gibbons.


The song is "Comptine d'un autre été" by Yann Tiersen, and I actually discovered this touching animation after watching a (YouTube) friend's interpretation of it; needless to say, the interpretation made much more sense after first viewing the original video. Here is "Another Flight, Another Memory" by David aka RuleOfEngagement.



Click on the videos to view them at YouTube in bigger screens.

Running into Murphy

I suppose it's time I actually wrote a blog post detailing my daily life, as opposed to the usual review stuff that hardly qualifies this as a "web log" so much as a "vanity critics column". I was inspired to do so, quite frankly, by bowel trouble.

No, I did not shit on the Lincoln Memorial or anything so hilariously stupid as that. I'd best start at the beginning.

I like to think of myself as a thriving distance-runner fast approaching my first marathon (in reality, I'm still doing 5Ks, but half-marathons are definitely in the near future!), and so I try, every once in a while, to prove it by getting out of bed at an obscene hour (this particular morning it was 8:16-ish), lacing up my brand-spanking new New Balance neutral-cushioned boondoggle road running shoes ($80 on sale from Fleet Feet Sports), and, well, going out for a run. Actually, I try to finish at least 3-5 miles a day, in preparation for the upcoming school cross-country season (distances there vary between 3.1 and 3.7 miles, so they just call it 5K to make life easier). I'll go on at length about my extensive running past later.

Anyway, I do my little warm-up, stretch, and then BAM! I'm off like the wind, almost literally; it's probably the closest I've ever gotten to race pace in practice. Most runners I know will tell you that training as fast as you race is nigh impossible (at least, they should, otherwise I'm in trouble), so this was pretty amazing and awe-inspiring, so much so that I decided to, of all things, extend my planned short jog to its full extent (somewhere beyond 5 miles) to take advantage of this sudden boost in stamina.

And it worked. I ate those miles like Cream-o'-Wheat (which, btw, I've never had, always wondered what it tastes like, but it just sounds good here, so...); up hills, down hills, zigzagging through suburbia, past the old couples out for a walk and the occasional bicyclist (these tend to be the ones doing the passing, I'm afraid). Every once in a while, I'm graced with the view of some hot chick in a sports bra and miniskirt out for her own workout, but not today, which was fine by me - I was flying. I actually did sort of flap my arms going down one hill, got a honk from a passing motorist for that.

Anyway, back to the whole reason I'm writing an actual "web log" entry: so I'm coming up this last hill before this quarter-mile straightaway that I usually sprint home. I come off the hill, the burn in my legs kinda peaks and then lessens as my feet find level ground again, I go about a block and then - bleh.

Yup: my bowels spoke to me.

Not that I'm an intestine-whisperer or anything, but about then it hit me that I'd had oven-baked mandarin-orange chicken from Trader Joe's with brown rice and snow peas for dinner the night before, and I started to panic as I realized they (the chicken, rice, and peas, or what was left of them) wanted out, however was most convenient for them and least so for me.

So there I am, about another two blocks from my house (and a toilet!), my bowels coming unglued, sweat poring off me as I frantically guestimate whether or not I can hold it together for another five minutes, and I think: this would make a helluva blog entry. No kidding.

And for those of you who pooh-pooh the existence of Murphy, believe. Because I met his law in person.

As I'm waddling home, praying simultaneously that my boxers won't suddenly turn brown and that no cute girls suddenly decide to show up, my face feels wet. Thinking it to be sweat, I wipe my mouth, and look at the back of my hand. My nose is bleeding. Like, pouring.

All-in-all, not a bad morning. Sure, everything that could go wrong gastronomically almost did go wrong, plus the neighbors all think I've been mugged, but I got a near-perfect run (up 'til that moment) out of it, along with the reminder (in the form of a running high) that this is why we runners run. Despite the cramps and sores, the pain and injuries, the sweat and suffering, we hang in there for the run. It feels good, gives us that sense of accomplishment those high-falutin' team-building ropes courses always talk about, and that makes all the difference.

ManEating(and Running)Badger, signing off.

Oh, how could I forget? Here's to Lee (her blog, "Don't Bite Lee" (sounds like good manners), here: http://esaypoems.blogspot.com/) and her joyous and selfless recognition that a poor, lowly (and man-eating) badger commented on one of her posts. Please visit, and tell her the (man-eating) badger sent you ~!^ I'm so obsessed with that emoticon, I don't know why... anyway, her blog's great, I'd love to meet Lucy, I have a white lab-mix myself, Tanner (that's his name, I know, tons of imagination there) that I love to death despite that fact that I'm allergic to dogs. But I'll save all that for another day.

Cheers!

Watch/Find this show!

If you haven't seen it already, you probably never will, except on YouTube, because it got cancelled in favor of such crap as Ice Road Truckers... I have no problem with a reality-doumentary about northern truckers, but why the hell is that on History? Crap like that belongs on Discovery Channel, which recently started going downhill with stuff like Mythbusters. I also have no problem with debunking myths, but Mythbusters seems so juvenile, plus they've been wrong before. anyway, Dogfights! on History (The History Channel) was an awesome, factual, and engaging program about aircraft and pilots that, since WWI, have gone at it in massive and deadly aerial ballets. All of it was historically-based, although controversy opened up over some elements of accuracy. The tagline says it all: "You're in the cockpit. Experience the battles. Disect the tactics. Relive the Dogfights!"

A Childhood Favorite

I used to watch this on Fox Kids(R) every Saturday morning. Yeah, some of it's lame, but I'm still a devoted fan, and cried with everyone else when the series ended. Many say Godzilla the Series was even better than the 1998 Hollywood blockbuster!

This is by far the most complete online record of the show: http://www.scifijapan.com/articles/2006/03/28/godzilla-the-series/

I'm currently compiling a playlist of many GTS episodes that several others have graciously posted. Enjoy!
http://www.youtube.com/user/stealthf14d#play/user/F20C64DE5CE5BAAC

Into the Blogosphere

Okay, so I already had the Youtube, Picasa, and even a Yahoo! 360 (since closed) account with which to keep myself amused, but the blogging tools on 360 always seemed so primitive and glitchy. Then I caught sight of some other REALLY COOL blogs here, and decided BAM - I'm moving.

To make a very short story even shorter, this blog will function as an edited version of my Yahoo! 360 blog, which is still alive (and glitchy) over on Yahoo! Profiles. Obviously, I intend to make this one much snazzier, in case anyone happens to notice. Several online acquaitances of mine have blogs here, so I'll no doubt be pinging them with incessant invitations to wax rhapsodic on the brilliance of my thought processes...

Wow, I haven't written that much BS since... well, since a coupla months ago in school :) Bottom line: I write here in the hope that some aimless passerby will somehow have his or her day enriched by gleaning something thoughtful from what I say. And if no one does, well, it's an excuse to write, something I'm hoping to do more of as a hobby.

In the meantime, stay tuned for reviews of books and video games! And the occasional FSX screenie...

- ManEatingBadger -