Cover-2

Yeah, I’ve been swamped at work. We’ve got a lot of people cashing in their vacation time this week, which unfortunately coincides with massive end-of-the-year processing.

And I, having burnt my vacation on trips to Rome, and Texas six months ago am stuck here to cover. The last two days have been hectic and stressful (well, half-full). Tuesday I started covering for both seniors and one of the more experienced analysts. I had four of the most time-consuming funds on my desk in addition to the daily work hypermanager throws at me, plus end-of-the-year variances and exceptions that need to be cleared.

It probably would have been less stressful if it had been the newbie and the stupid kid on vacation, they’ve got the easiest funds in the group because that’s all they can handle (sometimes it’s more than they can handle, but that’s not the funds’ fault).

So Tuesday I was swamped, and behind, and didn’t get any help from hypermanager (not that I expected any). Wednesday was better, after not doing these funds for six months it only took about a day to get back into the habit. Today I feel like I’m back up to speed – speedy enough to clear morning income and sneak in a post.

Nose to the grind stone,
-tgme


recommended download:
The Old 97’s, Rollerskate Skinny

Dockers makes (comfortable) socks

Really, comfortable, socks. That’s what I’ve got on my feet today: really comfortable socks.

I didn’t expect them to be as comfortable as they are. Sure, the label says “now with comfort soles” but I figured it was just a marketing gimmick.

It’s not. The socks are really comfortable. Woo.

Brand new socks, everyday. That’s not a bad goal.
-t

All I want for Christmas is ...

A PING PONG TABLE, BABAY!!!

¡BAM!

that's right. full-size, regulation, professional grade ping pong. now playing in a living room near me.


Merry Christmas :)

Who doesn't love the Gilmore Girls?!

So, I recently made a lot of purchases from half.com (an ebay company), chief among them was an order for West Wing Season Five on dvd.

I received a package today from Stroudsburg, PA, which contained not the West Wing Season Five, but Gilmore Girls Season Five on dvd.

And not that I don't love the Gilmores... but I'm only on season two in that series.


-Merry Christmas Eve!
tom

I am the only person in the blog-o-sphere posting today!

MAAAAAAAARRRRRRYYYY CHRISTMAAAAAAAASSSSS!!!!!!



(eve) ;)



-t

The Berenstain Bears Go To The Dentist

Guess where I was this morning! If you guessed “sleeping in” you’re
WRONG!!! WRONG WRONG WRONG. bwahahahahahaha

Actually, I was up early because I had an appointment with…

my dentist!! (woo!)

No, seriously folks, I love the dentist. You go, you get your teeth all sparkly clean, if there are any cavities (2) they get drilled and filled, it’s a good time all around.

I don’t know why people don’t like going to the dentist…do those people enjoy poor oral hygiene? Puffy gums? Plaque!?

Anyway. I had to wake up early for a nine AM appointment and filling for my (2) cavities. Well, actually, I was only scheduled for one filling, then as I was getting my teeth cleaned they found another one (and they were both very small, thank you very much, and I’ll not have you blog readers chastising me about my brushing habits, I happen to be a regular brusher/flosser/listeriner, and I also happen to like sugar…very much. …ok, actually way more than anyone has any right to love sugar…but tough, if a few drillings is the price I pay then so be it. mmmmmm. sugar).

So. I got up early. And went to the dentist. And read a Time magazine article -

Reason number one (in chronological order) that I like my dentist:
1. The magazines in the waiting room are good magazines like Time, and Sports Illustrated, and they are always current – and Highlights never has circles drawn in the hidden pictures section.

… read a Time magazine article about Steven Spielberg’s new film Munich and now I want to go see it. But actually I only read half of the magazine article –

Reason number two (in chronological order) that I like my dentist:
2. They never make you wait long. Ever. I don’t think, in all the years I’ve been going there, that I have ever had an opportunity to finish reading an article I’ve started in the waiting room. Seriously it should be called the Not-much-of-a-wait-ing room.

… half the magazine article, because Sandy, the hygienist arrived to clean my teeth. Which she did, quickly, thoroughly, efficiently, all the while making pleasant small talk:
“So, are you a junior?”
“rhhm-hummp?”
“Thomas Jr.? Because I know your dad…”
“rhh. Nhn, whm ehm hmm dvvn mm-m nm”
“Oh, you have different middle names? That’s very interesting.”

After the cleaning Sandy took some x-rays -

Reason number three that I love my dentist (chronologically):
3. X-rays rock. Ok, I guess this is really not dentist-specific, because everybody takes x-rays, but maybe the generally happy atmosphere of this office makes even x-rays (which I find pleasant anyway) even more pleasant. Also, no matter who is taking the x-rays they always say “Watch your head” as they swing the x-ray machine over. (because I’m tall.)


… some x-rays. Good news, my impacted wisdom teeth are still impacted and look like they’re not moving or causing any pain or damage. All other teeth look healthy.

On to drilling and filling! After the cleaning I moved to the dentist’s office where he proceeded to drill and fill both (small) cavities -

Reason number four (four? I’ve lost count) that I love my dentist:
4. He always asks if you want Novocain before drilling, and he lets you play the tough guy if you want.
“Do you want Novocain?”
“Do you think I need it?”
“Well, you can go without, and if it turns out it’s a little deep or a sensitive area we can administer it then.”
“Good. No Novocain, I’m a tough guy.”

… both (small) cavities. While he drilled he started quizzing me on what I’ve been up to lately, how the family was, and if I enjoyed my job.

“Do you like your job?”
[so-so motion with hands]
“What was your major in college?”
“mm-th”
“Oh, so you could teach, would you be interested in teaching?”
“wrr, rr mm nnb rmm mm-n-r, mm-hmm.”
“Sure, sure, I can see that, after a few years then, teaching might be a better option. So if you don’t want to teach or stay in finance is there anything you’d want to do?”
[shrug]
“Well, how about top three?”
“wrr, hhn gnhh rr wmwm nnn n rr mmggn”
“For the Red Sox maybe? Pitching in the majors would be nice.”
“mmhp”
“Do you have the ability to do that?”
“nn-m”
“Well, ok. It’s a nice dream though. …What about being a dentist?”

We also talked about the recent free-agent signings and what the Sox should do for their infield troubles. I did not need any Novocain.

After the cavities were filled he reviewed my x-rays with me and sent me on my way -

Reason number five that I love my dentist:
5. He always sends you home with a new toothbrush, lots of floss, and at least one little plastic dinosaur from the bin he keeps next to the exam chair. Today I got a triceratops.


… sent me on my way, and since my job that I hate has a great health plan that covers all preventive dental work I didn’t even have to pay! (woo!).

I made an appointment for another six-month check-up at the front desk on my way out -

Reason number six that I love my dentist:
6. They are so accommodating with appointment times. Early, late, middle of the day, they are happy to shuffle things around for you. Also, they’re closed every Monday. How can you not love a business that closes on Mondays?! That’s like, the best thing I’ve ever heard.

… my way out, and headed to work. I only got there fifteen minutes late.

That was today’s visit. I had a blast.

Keep flossing, America,
-tgme

Gift horse

“The idea of gift giving is silly,” he said, and I paused, surprised, expecting some philosophical condemnation of capitalist consumerism.

“If you really want people to be happy you should just give them money,” he finished, “because then they can go out and buy whatever they want.”

“And then you don’t have to agonize over ‘augh, now I have to wear this, or use this,’ with something you didn’t want anyway,” she agreed.

Call me old fashioned, but money given doesn’t spend as well as money earned. I don’t want your twenty-five dollars tucked in a Christmas card because you’re too lazy or to uncaring to try and give something that means a little. Money won’t ever make me feel joy.

And if you are compelled to participate in an office holiday gift swap, do not belittle the Bible that you received. It may be that God is particularly active in someone’s life, someone you work with, and they are trying to encourage a similar level of spirituality in your life.

And when that coworker senses the gift had not gone over well tells a story, in broken English about a movie he once saw to serve as a parable, listen. A father and a son had a falling out over, of all things, the father’s expensive automobile. The son left home, only to be called back many years later by a dying father wishing to make amends. When the son arrives home he learns his father is dead and the only thing bequeathed to him was a small pocket Bible. The son disgustedly throws the Bible away. Later, the Bible is found, and in its pages the reader discovers the old father’s will, leaving everything to the son, and the key to the automobile.

Scoffing at any gift is rude. Scoffing at the gift and then loudly proclaiming that cash is what would make you happy is worse. It may just be that the Bible ended up where it can do the most good.

-tgme

So, I don't get it...can they hear the baby?

Now, I am not, generally, a phone guy. I’m on a cell phone plan that gives me two hundred minutes a month. I never, ever use all my minutes – I never even come close.

I pay a ridiculous amount of money for the plan though, and I do it happily. I feel like I’m not paying for the minutes I use, but for the technological advance of the cell phone itself.

Because I pay so much money it is possible for me to call anyone I know, at anytime, from anywhere, (even inside buildings with thick concrete walls, and the middle of nowhere, because I have Nextel, and Nextel rocks). I could, if I so desired, order a pizza, from anywhere, to be delivered to anywhere, at anytime that a pizza place would conceivably be open.

When I’m listening to a song in the car and the lyrics remind me of a guy on a show I’d seen one time who was in a movie with that other guy what’s his name… I can call anyone who might know, at a moment’s notice and spend thirty seconds on the phone to ask someone.

Actually, I usually don’t spend more than thirty seconds on the phone at a time, which is why Nextel’s Direct Connect feature rocks. You don’t even have to dial.

Chirp! “Hey, who’s that guy from that movie that we almost rented last weekend?” Chirp. “The lead? Or the bad guy?” Chirp! “The bad guy” Chirp. “Right, it was Vinnie Jones, he was in Snatch.”

It’s not because I’m bad on the phone, it’s because, to me, the phone is more about instant communication, instant access. I don’t usually converse via cell.

So, I recognize that as a deficiency. I should at least have the ability to be a phone guy. I don’t want to cut conversation short or hang up prematurely on someone who does want to talk.

So I’ll be practicing.
-t

"Whiskey Girl"

I have so many great ideas. For example: I think whiskey would make a viable cologne.

Not just whiskey. A drink of your choice. There are some nice smelling drinks out there. Amaretto…Malibu (toned down a bit of course), anything. Pick your favorite.

Sure you might smell like you’re drunk all the time…but maybe you are! Then this would be the perfect cover!

“Hey, are you drinking on the job? You smell like you’ve been hitting the bottle!”
“Oh, no boss, that’s “Brandy” by Chanel”

HA.
With ideas like these I can’t believe I don’t have a fabulous job in a think tank somewhere.

-t

Publish

I am more convinced than ever that I should get a book deal. You hear about bloggers hitting it rich with the contracts and the advances and the “I’m going to take a few weeks off from the ‘blog proper’ to concentrate on my writing.” Ha.

First of all, “writers,” don’t neglect the blog. It’s what got you there. You should be wracked with guilt over saving juicy tidbits of gossip and the cleverest of anecdotes for your “book.” The stories you used to publish on the blog, the ones that got you the book deal, you’re now keeping from your readers? Is that anyway to reward their faithful devotion? (No. It isn’t.)

Anyway, that’s neither here nor there. I don’t begrudge you your publishing contract, as far as I’m concerned there are plenty to go around. Take a look at the new releases next time you’re in a giant national chain bookstore, I wouldn’t read half of them, but they keep getting published.

So it’s ok. I’m not going to buy your book, because that’s not the stuff I read. Hell, I won’t even buy my book, it’ll be full of trivial nonsense, because that’s what I write. But somebody must be reading them.

So, where’s my blogbook contract!?
-t

Sherlock Hemlock, finding a new job

Woo. I’ve applied for a new job. Hooray me.

Not that I’m as qualified as they’d like me to be… I lack the master’s degree and two plus years of publishing experience, but it’s cool, I’m a fast learner.

I’ll be sitting at my desk waiting for my phone to ring for the rest of the day. Out of here by 2006 – that’s the plan.

Oh snap. The phone’s ringing right now. This is exciting.  Ok, I’m going to answer it. Professional voice, Tom, professional voice…now is not the time for your Jerry Lewis impressions. Save it for the interview.

Here’s hoping,
-t

Wherein we turn to Mickey Mouse carpentry for the sake of a good night's sleep:

Last night, about midnight, as I was in the living room with Joey and Timmy watching a movie, something crashed against the house. All three of us jumped up to find out what it was. We opened the front door and turned on the lights and couldn’t discover anything. As we stepped back into the house my dad called us from upstairs.
“Tommy, Joey, come up here…and bring my electric drill.”

The crash we heard, as it turns out, was Danny, through no fault of his own, falling out of bed. As he slept the frame holding his box spring and mattress separated from the headboard and sent it all to the floor.

It was late, all we needed was a temporary solution to fix it for the night. In these instances we defer to Dad’s judgment, impaired as it may be by being woken from a sound sleep, and he decided to screw the frame back together.

So, with two inch wood screws Joey drilled a couple holes through the frame and we reset the box spring and mattress and everybody who was in bed went back to bed and everyone who was watching the movie went back to watching the movie.

Then, just after the movie ended about half an hour later the bed fall apart again.

Again, we defer to Dad’s judgment. This time we used bigger screws.

Well, it was quite the adventure, and tonight when I get back from work we’re going to take a serious look at this bed frame and figure out exactly what broke and who we’re going to blame it on (Danny).

Thank goodness he sleeps on the bottom bunk.

-t

Absent without leave

I didn’t go to the holiday party. I spent all day yesterday debating the issue. By the end of the ay I was looking at two options: (1) go home and chat online with people and watch Arrested Development on DVD; or (2) go to the holiday party so I had some material for the blog, presumably for an “I hate my job” post.

At no time did I think about attending the party because I wanted to participate in holiday cheer or foster friendliness and goodwill among my coworkers.

So I didn’t go, but two points of note:
(1) the quiet girl, Shannon, who never goes out with the group for people’s last day, who only communicates with the group through email, even though she sits right in the middle of our cubes, and who drinks a diet coke for breakfast everyday, went to the party.
and
(2) They just announced the raffle prizes by email. Last year’s highlights included: three ipods, two ipod shuffles, and box seats for a Boston Bruins/Montreal Canadiens game at the Fleet Center. This year the prizes awarded were:
     Starbucks gift cards (2)
     Dunkin Donuts gift cards (4)
     Movie passes (1)
     Sebastians gift cards (2)
     CVS gift cards (2)
     Bath and Body Works gift cards (2)
     Stop and Shop gift cards (2)
     QDoba gift cards (2)
     Variety restaurants gift cards (3)
     Providence Bruins tickets (2)
     Macy’s gift card (1)

The Providence Bruins tickets, which are the only raffle item I was slightly impressed by, were donated by a manager who lives in Providence and has season tickets who can’t go to that game because he’ll be on a ski weekend in Vermont.

So I’m glad I didn’t go.
Stupid pilgrims.
-t


recommended download:
Bob Dylan, The Times They Are A’Changing

Help desk

Everyday we send fund information to NASDAQ. It's my job to save the information to a floppy disk, physically transport that disk across the floor to the NASDAQ terminal. There, I transmit the information to NASDAQ. Today, it didn't work.

The network was down. This is a big deal because not only our funds need to go to NASDAQ, but all the funds that the company holds. So I got on the phone.

I spent ten minutes jumping from help desk to help desk (mutual fund, security, network...) and finally got a contact number for NASDAQ. I talked to Laurie at NASDAQ. She didn't solve the problem, but she got me a new number for my IT department.

So I called our IT department with a new name, and was on the phone with Louie for the next... four... hours.

Louie, in IT, conferenced in Darren from the firewall division, along with Sean, the NASDAQ netowork guy. FOUR HOURS.

This phone call was so long that Sean's shift ended. At three o'clock Sean was replaced by a new NASDAQ network guy, Bill. AT four o'clock Louie decided to send a technician down to physically look at the terminal. It was clearly not a network problem.

I hung up with them at four-thirty. The problem hadn't been solved. They kept working.

Four hours on the phone at the NASDAQ terminal. This was not the best day at work.
-t

Monster hook-up

Voicemail:

“Hi, Tom, this is Debbie with Anonymous Investments Inc.

I was forwarded a copy of your resume and wanted to speak to you.

My number is 860-555-0034, extension 40.

I was wondering if you were a number juggler, or a chainsaw/bowling ball juggler.

I’ll be here until eleven-thirty today, Wednesday, and Thursday as well.

Thanks very much, and have a great day.”

-t    

Share and share alike

I don’t want to read good books, or watch good movies, or listen to good music. I want to share it.

I appreciate talent and craftsmanship and I don’t think there’s anything better than a well-told story. For some people that’s enough. They can take their radiohead cd and escape to a deserted island forever, content to immerse themselves in the music forever.

That’s not enough for me. I want to find it, music, art, cinema, drama, comedy, and I want to bring it to other people.

Sure I want some of the credit. I’d rather hear “This book is great, Tom told me to read it” than “This book is great.” But even without the credit, I’d know I passed it on, and that’s important.

There is too much quality work out there to listen, or watch, or read some of the drivel that seems to make it to the best sellers list (ahem da vinci code ahem cough cough). And there’s too much absolutely magical stuff out there that no one knows about.

I’d take The Dark Is Rising over any Narnia book. Phillip Pullman’s His Dark Materials, James Thurber’s The Thirteen Clocks – which is so good they took it out of print!

I’ve got a soft spot for the books I read as a kid, and the shows that I remember from childhood, but not to the exclusion of watching new shows and reading anything I can get my hands on. I know what I like and what I don’t like, but more important, I can recognize good from bad – and even if I didn’t particularly enjoy the good I’ll still recommend it, if it was well-crafted.

-t

recommended download:
The Coral, Pass It On    

Center of the universe (and a heck of a nice guy too)

This is all about me. The world revolves around me (a physical principle I could prove to you with nothing more than a few axioms and some notes jotted down on a cocktail napkin, but which has yet to be widely accepted in the scientific community).

I am a selfish person.  I also happen to be tall, witty, intelligent, and a pretty good ping pong player – but back to selfishness.

I am happy to critique. Happy to. If your hair looks ridiculous, I’ll tell you; if your clothes are awful or uncool, or the wrong color, or style, or fabric, I’ll tell you. Because I want you to look good.

But criticism is harsh, and I don’t want you to get the wrong impression.

It’s not that I care about you but have trouble expressing myself diplomatically, because I could. If I chose to, I could tell you your new hair cut looks dumb without hurting your feelings.

But that would be me being nice, and helpful and constructive. That’s not what I’m about.

I care about me. Me-me-me-me-me. I want you to look good, because if you’re around me, or associated with me, then that will make me look good. I mean, seriously, how would I look if I hung out with a bunch of losers? So I try my best to at least make sure you don’t look like losers.

So don’t be offended. I’ll tell you how to look better, and if you do what I tell you I’ll let you hang out with me. Your association with me will bump up your social status, so you’re set. What’s good for me is what’s good for you is what’s good for me. One hand washing the other.

The Epitome of Cool,
-tgme

Also, I half expect some spiteful comments about how I shouldn’t be advising anyone on fashion because I wear flannel, but that’s just petty venting – because I look awesome in flannel and you all know it.

recommended download:
Three Doors Down, Ticket To Heaven          

Susceptible to viral attack

I am sick
I woke up with a sore throat and it’s been downhill from there.

My head is feeling wavy and I’m having trouble putting thoughts together. I’m achy and cold, and getting colder. I’m also growing more tired as I sit here, and I don’t think it’s going to get any better. I’ve been drinking orange juice and lots of water, I had something hot for lunch, but it might still take two days to get rid of this thing.

But, I’d rather be sick at work than sick at home, I’m already miserable when I’m at work, now I’m just operating at about 70% effectiveness (which is still more effective than the stupid kid at 100%).

You know that was parenthetical, but I’m going to expand: Sick, I am still more effective than the stupid kid on his best day. In fact (in opinion, actually) and virus would need to knock me down to about 35% effectiveness to put me on stupid kid’s level. At 35% I have trouble distinguishing numbers and breathing. Man I hate that kid.

Alright, fine. Enough for today unless I get bored.
-t

recommended download:
The Mighty Mighty Bosstones, Numbered Days, and Where’d You Go

Tuppence

I was in a shop the other day when a man came in looking for some long underwear.

He asked the salesman if they had any and the salesman said “Of course, how long do you want them?”

And the man said, “Well, from about September to March.”

Wouldn't It Be Loverly?

I have just received official word that the group is moving. We will soon (two weeks? Three weeks? In this office “soon” doesn’t actually relate to any real-world period of time) be moved from this side of the floor (un-affectionately referred to as “the coldest place in hell”) to the middle of the floor, near the PAs (who will “soon” be obsolete as their jobs are slowly but surely being replaced by computers) and the PAs will “eventually” be moved over here to Antarctica (where they can live every popsicle’s fantasy, before getting laid off).

Good news? Maybe. In an area of the office with nominal temperatures I’ll still be able to feel my fingers at the end of the day, which isn’t a bad thing, but, until I learn the location of my new cube there is the possibility I will be placed in either a high-traffic area or right in front of an AVP’s office, in both cases I will be virtually unable to use AIM and Blogger, which is just about the worst thing they can do to me. If I can’t slack of at work by chatting with my friends online (the three of them that actually take time to chat with me instead of working or going to class) I might have to quit and find another job I don’t have to do.

All I want is a cube somewhere, far away from the cold, cold air, in a really low traffic a(rea). Oh wouldn’t it be loverly?

Well, we’ll find out “soon.”
-t


recommended download:
Dropkick Murphys, Rocky Road to Dublin
or
The Irish Descendants, Rocky Road to Dublin

Sans Serif

Alright. I’ve picked a new font. Comic Sans MS is entirely appropriate.

Also, everybody who isn’t Donny should ignore the “Transform” post. Anybody that wants to reread “Cobra Christmas” should.

These next few days posts may be a little different; I’ll be trying to impress some new readers. And I’m staying away from work related posts because many of you have made it very clear you just skip those posts all together.

Which, I suppose doesn’t leave me with much material, but I’m sure I’ll think of something… Or I’ll talk some more about me as a seven year old.

-t

Frightful

It’s cold. No surprise, New England winters are supposed to be cold. Inside though, with the oil heat, and insulation? It is not supposed to be this cold.

Our  little alcove near the elevators is only marginally warmer than the middle of Boylston street, which isn’t really that bad when you get here in the morning after walking down Boylston – warmer  is warmer. But, after about an hour you start to realize you’re still cold, not because you haven’t warmed up yet, but because they’re not pumping in enough heat to warm up yet.

When it’s this cold there are only a few options
(1) Go get something warm to drink, like coffee.
     This almost never happens, because a Dunkin’ Donuts run means braving the great outdoors again, and you’ve only just gotten feeling back in your hands.

(2) Go stand on the other side of the office.
     They’ve got heat, they don’t mind, they’ll even talk to you. Just don’t stand between them and the printer. That’s like stepping between a polar bear and her cub. Of course, on that side of the office you can’t get any work done, and a lot of the work is time sensitive, so you’ll have to go back to your desk eventually, leaving you with option three:

(3) Bundle up.
     Don’t even bother taking your coat off when you get in. Sit as close to your computer as you can, trying to suck in some warmth from the cathode rays bombarding your eyeballs, huddle in your chair and wrap that jacket tight. To be as warm as possible you should keep your hat and gloves on too, but the dress code says no hats, and the gloves make typing “audit guide request form” look like “sdoitg u8ie rreqwudst frorm.”

By the end of the day most of my typing looks like that anyway because my fingers are too cold to work properly. I guess it’s not so bad, though, winter only lasts from September to June up here.

-t


recommended download:
Flogging Molly, To Youth (My Sweet Roisin Dubh)                     

Transform

Cybertron is a robotic planet, its inhabitants are robots. The transformers, good and bad, who crashed on the planet earth did not originally transform into familiar shapes like cars, minivans, and semis. When their spaceships crashed the auto-recover function scanned the surrounding area for local machines and designed blueprints used to re-engineer the alien robots to better fit in. Their disguises allowed them to move freely before revealing themselves to the humans. Makes total sense. Just like when in Futurama Bender got his memory erased at the North Pole and when he rebooted his scan only picked up penguins. He acted like a penguin for the rest of the episode to fit in.

Once they got into space during the movie a few of the robots were redesigned (most notably Megatron, he also got a new name: Galvatron).

For more on the Transformers’ history I suggest starting here .

Also, I have posted about the Gummi Bears. Here.

-t
recommended download:
Howie Day, Buzzing
and
Howie Day, Buzzing (Drunk version, live)

Little Green Men

No, not the plastic army men. Aliens. Extraterrestrials.

By far the coolest extra terrestrial to grace the collective consciousness of impressionable children is Superman. Faster than a speeding bullet, able to leap tall buildings in a single bound, disguised as mild-mannered reporter Clark Kent.

But next on the list, without question, are the Transformers. More than meets the eyes. Robots in disguise. Good guys and bad guys crash landed on earth, the only way to get back to their home planet (Cybertron) was to use energy they found here on earth (stored in energon cubes). The good guys (Autobots) worked with us humans to do so, the bad guys (Decepticons) pretty much just stole whatever they could and fought the good guys at every opportunity.

At the time of their introduction they were the second most popular Hasbro toy that was being cross-promotionalized (?) with an animated television show (right behind G.I. Joe and just in front of My Little Pony). (Since then Transformers have outperformed G.I Joe as money makers spawning seven additional animated series, but I’m not here to talk about tv…).

Hasbro decided to take the next step: Release a major motion picture. They crafted a story about a return to Cybertron, At long last the Autobots and Decepticons repaired their starships and made it back to space where the fate of their home planet would be decided. (Ok, I’m sort of half-guessing at the plot, I haven’t seen the movie in years and years. It is a good movie though. Really.)

Anyway, at the climax of the movie Megatron, the baddest of the bad guys (finally) kills Optimus Prime, the most virtuous of the good guys. Kills him. Dead.

And let me tell you, fans were outraged. Up in arms. Never has the death of a lead character in an eighties cartoon meant so much to so many (not even when they knocked off that Care Bear with the rainbow and replaced her with that stupid lion. Lions aren’t bears.).

Hasbro scrambled. They’d already started production on a similar (very similar) G.I. Joe movie to promote that line of toys. Guess what the script called for - you guessed it: the death of the lead good guy, Duke, at the hands of the lead (at the time) bad guy, Serpentor. (Serpentor throws a poisoned spear through Duke’s heart.)

So what could they do? The movie had been written, animated, Duke gets hit by the spear and we don’t see him again for the rest of the movie. This thing is scheduled to hit theaters in a month! I’ll tell you what they do: They pull it.

Hasbro can’t suffer another loss like the on caused by The Death of Optimus Prime, so they release the G.I. Joe movie as regular episodes, a five-parter. And, in the fourth episode, when Duke gets the spear through the heart, they re-record the dialogue and instead of Doc saying “I’m sorry, he’s dead.” He says “It’s bad. He’s in a coma.”

A COMA. Brilliant I say. At the end of the last episode when everything’s wrapping up they added one more line to the script “I’m glad Duke came out of the coma and is going to be ok.” What a save. Fans couldn’t deal with the death of an fictional alien robot (or, as we learned later, with the death of a fictional alien comic book superhero at the hands of a kryptonite-boned aptly-named Doomdsay) there’s no way killing off a real American hero would fly.

Duke was never supposed to survive that poisoned spear, but now you know – And knowing is half the battle.

Yo Joe,
-tom

recommended download:
Transformer Theme Song (Decepticon remix)
and
Stan Bush, Dare (from the Transformer Movie soundtrack)

A Cobra Christmas

Sixteen years ago I was seven, and the most important things in the universe were G.I. Joes (in fact, from the ages of four to twelve the most important things in the universe were G.I. Joes, and up until about eighteen they were still in the top five – when we got our first computer I was a freshman in high school and I used the Microsoft Works database program to construct a database cataloguing all of my G.I. Joe action figures by name, rank, affiliation, special forces, uniform color, and accessories – I didn’t really need to, I’d had all that memorized since I was five, but I wanted to see how the database worked, and I thought it would be a handy aid for my younger brothers).

So, I was seven. This was the first year G.I. Joes made an appearance in the Christmas decorations (actually, it might have been a year or two before, but facts aren’t really that important). We’d put up the tree. We had the Advent wreath out on the table for meals. Stockings were hung, candles were put in the windows, and (best of all) big fat giant outdoor Christmas lights adorned the entire roof.

Also among the decorations was a small plastic manger with a small plastic holy family and small plastic angels and shepherds and sheep, and maybe a cow and a donkey. This is where I decided to contribute.

I picked an elite force of about eight men (and, if I think back carefully I can probably tell you exactly which ones), outfitted them with all the gear they could carry (backpacks, bandoliers), armed them to the teeth (knives, guns, grenade launchers, a bazooka), and set them up around the manger. I must have done all this while my mom was busy baking or something, because when she saw them later she was horrified.

“GUNS!? Why do you have guns pointing at the baby Jesus!?” she exclaimed.

I explained to her that the guns weren’t pointing at the baby, but away from the baby. These eight soldiers were the perimeter guard I’d assigned to protect the manger from the threat of King Herod’s evil forces. It made perfect sense to me. Soldiers with swords riding in on camels would never try and attack a modern fighting force as well-trained and well-armed as the G.I. Joe team. I was saving the baby Jesus. What better way to celebrate Christmas?

So they got to stay.

It wasn’t long after that that the siblings got involved. Within a day every single G.I. Joe figure, good and bad, had been carefully placed among the Christmas decorations. They were on top of the piano burrowing through the fake cotton snow, they were hanging from Rudolph’s antlers, and there were twenty-four hidden in the Christmas tree itself. Mostly that was my doing: Little men falling off branches, other little men swinging from ornament to ornament to rescue them. There was only one rule: no fighting. This season was a time of peace and happiness the world over, so it would be in their world too G.I. Joe and Cobra weren’t enemies at Christmas.

Since then the eight figures grouped around the manger have become somewhat of an honor guard, there for old time’s sake. The remaining guys are hidden in the Christmas tree, scaling tinsel, or parachuting from the angel on top. We have almost as many figures on the tree now as ornaments.

G.I. Joes, celebrating Christmas, and protecting the Son of God – with grenades if necessary.

Merry Christmas,
-tom


recommended download:
Veggie Tales, Feliz Navidad    

Atten-tion!

I keep expecting something to happen. There’s nothing going on, so far it’s been a slow day, I’m shopping online, or reading blogs, or just staring off into space, and then BAM, I snap out of it, startled back into paying attention, because it feels like something should be happening.

Like an email asking for a report I’d forgotten to run, or hypermanager popping up with two new projects, or the funds I should be fixing because stupid kid screwed up (again). But, nothing.

I sit here, with one fund on my desk, and almost no deadlines. If I’m not careful I might just fall asleep at my desk.

-t


recommended download:
Fountains of Wayne, Hey Julie

In The Spirit of Giving (and Receiving)

I feel like the wicked witch, cackling “packages, packages” instead of “poppies.” I just wish the packages would show up on my doorstep already.

It’s the shopping season and I’ve been buying like crazy, as usual, for myself. Ebay has frequently been involved, amazon too. I’ve also made a few purchases from smaller online retailers. To date nothing has arrived.

Well, Arrested Development Season One and Two on dvd has arrived, but that was a free overnight ship from amazon, so it doesn’t really count. Also it arrived on a Saturday when I was home to receive it which eliminated the hours of expectation that carry me through an afternoon at work. Any afternoon is more pleasant knowing you’ve got a package waiting for you when you get home.

Though I have heard it is better to give than receive, one might think it is also better to send than receive. Not so. Yesterday, in lieu of accepting a package or two I instead sent out a money order to pay a fine I, received, speeding through Indiana. It was less fun than opening up a new wireless card, or router, or a MOC 1985 Lifline.

-t


recommended download:
Jude, Charlie Says

Clueless

Ah. I bet you read the title and thought this would be a post about the stupid kid. You thought wrong. Or I bet wrong - This post is about not eating.

I have had very little to eat these past few days. Yesterday, for example, I had no breakfast, a medium coffee for lunch, and two and a half bowls of lentil soup for dinner. (I had the lentil soup because I didn’t realize until later that chicken rice soup was available, not that I dislike lentil soup, but the chicken and rice would have been nice…maybe a bowl of each.)

Today I have had half of a dry bagel (untoasted). Why? I don’t know. Well, I know why I had the bagel, because I was hungry. I mean, in the past sixteen hours I have had two bowls of soup and a bagel (I’m couting the half-bagel and half bowl of soup as one whole bagel for easy numbers). This is basically what I would have as a before-or-after dinner snack on a normal day. Why haven’t I been eating? I don’t know.

I am going to go out at the first chance I get and buy a Chicago-style Rueben, a Big Mac, a Spicy Chicken sandwich, two coffees, a Gatorade, and a stack of Au Bon Pain pastries filled mostly with fruit and cheese. Then maybe I’ll have a salad. Because I am hungry.

Bonus points to anybody who figures out what the title is referencing.
-t


recommended download:
The New Pornographers, Use It