Insomniac Theater: The Rock-afire Explosion

Posted on By Wil

Unless I'm working on a show that requires me to get up at a normal hour to get to the set, I usually sleep for about eight hours, starting at one in the morning. When we do the stupid goddamn Daylight Saving Time*, it's really hard for me to get to sleep before two in the morning, which annoys me, because I don't like sleeping until ten am. I'm not sure why, but if I get disturbed even the tiniest little bit in the first hour of sleep, I'm fucked and awake for at least two more hours. It's really frustrating when it happens, which is (thankfully) not very often.

This is why I seriously contemplated setting my cat on fire last night: as I was nearly in sleep's restful embrace, she decided that it was really important for her to jump up onto my bed, right next to my head, then spring up to the window over my bed, where she pushed herself behind the blinds and repeatedly hit them. So that's why I was awake until four-fucking-thirty this morning, watching movies on my iPad, which is really what this post is about (after two hundred words of bitching about stupid things).

I rewatched the final episode of Sherlock's first season (OMG IT IS SO AMAZING), because I'm sure they'll eventually get around to releasing season two in America… and then I watched a documentary called The Rock-afire Explosion, all about the animatronic band from Showbiz Pizza Place. It was a fascinating, bittersweet film that focused on the guy who invented the band, and a few of the people who loved his creation. Much of the film's focus is on this guy who bought a complete band and built his own Showbiz Pizza Place at his house. He's a little odd, I suppose, but comes across as gentle and kind, and sincere in his desire to recreate some of the happiest days of his youth.

I was impressed that the filmmakers did not choose to make a documentary that was a freakshow, or that made fun of its subjects, but instead told a sweet and sort of sad story of how one guy invented something in the 70s that touched the lives of a generation — and continues to affect some of them to this day. It's only 71 minutes long, so if you have the time to watch it, I highly recommend it.

*I really hate Daylight Saving Time. If I were boss of the universe, we'd have one time and just fucking stick to it? Among the many reasons I hate it? Even though it's only one hour, it fucking jetlags me for a week or more. I know, stupid, right? But that's what happens to me. Every year. Twice a year. It makes me want to buy a hammer for the express purpose of hitting the guy who invented Daylight Saving Time.

 

The Tournament of Books: State of Wonder vs. The Sisters Brothers

Posted on By Wil

I am a judge in this year's Tournament of Books at The Morning News. The Tournament is a bracketed competition that pits sixteen books against each other, two books at at time. It's sort of like March Madness, if March Madness didn't bore me to death.*

I love to read, and I have so much going on**, I don't have as much time as I need to read everything I want. When something like this comes along that basically gives me an excuse to read books and not feel guilty because I should be doing something else, I always get excited.

The round I judged went live today. Here's a little bit:

I’ll spare you any sort of contrived suspense (there’s plenty of that in State of Wonder) about which book I picked to send to round two, and just cut to the chase: I had to restrain myself from reading The Sisters Brothers in one sitting, and State of Wonder felt like the most tedious homework assignment I’ve ever had in my life. The Sisters Brothers easily and handily wins this matchup.

Of course, there's much more to it than that, but why bury the lede? I hope you'll take a moment and head over to the tournament and check out the whole thing, then come back.

Okay. Welcome back. I hope my judgement entertained you. I knew that I wasn't going to write as intellectually as the other judges, so I just embraced who I am, and wrote my judgement the same way I'd write a blog post or one of my columns. I made a deliberate choice to be direct, hopefully humorous, and unapologetically opinionated.

I expected to be savaged in the comments over there, but they've been almost entirely awesome, whether they agree with me or not. In fact, it's one of the rare times I've actually enjoyed reading a comment-based discussion. See, kids? Reading makes you a smarter and better person than not reading. And that's a fact!

*themoreyouknow.jpg*

*Insert sportsball joke here.

**I'm kind of a big deal. /smirk

I spent way too much time on this.

Posted on By Wil

So this incredibly entertaining bit of spam arrived in my inbox last night:

Hilarious Spam

I just want to thank Nash Morton (who I'm sure owns a yacht, wears the finest silk shirts and only the fanciest of pants) for giving my e-mail address to his friend, who is so concerned about how many wild runnings I miss out on because I have no erection.

Some of you are too young to recall a time when you could run wild just because you felt the need to run wild (it's true, they were days long ago), but in our modern times, if you don't have an erection, you simply aren't allowed to run wild. I vividly recall the following scene:

Me: Is this the place you come to when you want to run wild?

Burly Man With A Wilford Brimley Moustache At The Entrance To A Place Where Men Run Wild: It is indeed! Aloha-hail, fellow!))

Me: Oh, thank the gods! I've felt a need to run wild — a compulsion whose origination I know not — and I've finally found the place to do it!

Burly Man With A Wilford Brimley Moustache At The Entrance To A Place Where Men Run Wild: That's fine news, friend; fine news indeed! Just show me your erection, and I'll grant you entrance to a place where men run wild.

Me: Oh, nuts. Well, the thing is… I don't have an erection at the moment.

Burly Man With A Wilford Brimley Moustache At The Entrance To A Place Where Men Run Wild: WHAT?!

Me: I'm ever so sorry, sir. If you could find it in yourself to allow an erectionless man to run–

Burly Man With A Wilford Brimley Moustache At The Entrance To A Place Where Men Run Wild: CERTAINLY NOT! WE HERE AT A PLACE WHERE MEN RUN WILD STAND FOR CERTAIN THINGS!

Me: But–

Burly Man With A Wilford Brimley Moustache At The Entrance To A Place Where Men Run Wild: CHIEF AMONG THOSE THINGS IS AN ERECTION! (Calls off, behind an opulent curtain) Jenkins! Jenkins! Come out here a moment!

Jenkins, who has an obvious and enormous erection: Yes, sire?

Burly Man With A Wilford Brimley Moustache At The Entrance To A Place Where Men Run Wild: This … man … here, wishes admittance to A Place Where Men Run Wild!

Jenkins: Bully! (to me) Show us your erection, and be ready for the time of your life!

Me: About that…

Burly Man With A Wilford Brimley Moustache At The Entrance To A Place Where Men Run Wild: He has no erection!

Jenkins: Oh, that's a jolly good joke, sire! (to me) So, present your erection and I'll personally guide you through the curtain into a place where men run wild!

Burly Man With A Wilford Brimley Moustache At The Entrance To A Place Where Men Run Wild: Jenkins, do you have an erection in your ears? I said that this "man" here has no erection.

Jenkins: Forsooth?! (Jenkins faints)

Burly Man With A Wilford Brimley Moustache At The Entrance To A Place Where Men Run Wild: Well, I hope you're happy. You've given Jenkins cause to faint.

Me: I'm ever so sorry. I merely wanted to run wild!

Burly Man With A Wilford Brimley Moustache At The Entrance To A Place Where Men Run Wild: Please leave.

Me: May I just–

Burly Man With A Wilford Brimley Moustache At The Entrance To A Place Where Men Run Wild: No. No, you most certanly may not! I bid you good day, sir. Come back when you have an erection. Perhaps you could talk to Nash Morton.

Me (fighting back tears): Yes, yes, I'll do just that.

So, thank you, Nash Morton. I look forward to taking my future erection to a place where men run wild. I am forever in your debt, sir.

life imitates art (or: I don’t know much about brain scans, but I’ll help you fix your computer.)

Posted on By Wil

Earlier today, I got an email from a Star Trek TNG cast member who will remain nameless. I've chosen the pseudonym Jonathan Frakes for the purposes of this post.

"Jonathan Frakes's" email had been compromised, and I'd gotten one of the things it sent out, so I pinged him and offered to help him fix it, if he needed assistance. "It turns out I still have a little Wesley Crusher in me," I typed. Then I thought for a moment and added, "…eww. That doesn't sound right at all."

I walked him through scanning and removing spyware and malware, mostly via text messages… which was hilarious to me, because my text message alert tone is the original Star Trek communicator sound.

It all ran smoothly, but "Frakes" was concerned about his CPU maxing out. "It's using all the power," he typed to me. Then, and I swear to whatever god you believe in that this is true, he followed that up with: "I'm givin it all I can, Captain!"

I typed back, "Okay. Run a level five diagnostic and emit an inverse neutrino pulse through the main navigational deflector."

A moment later "Jonathan Frakes" replied, "All done! It worked. Thanks for your help."

"Any time," I replied. Then I collapsed into a fit of giggles.

This was funny to me, because we're two Star Trek guys (with magnificent beards), making contextually-relevant Star Trek jokes with each other. More significantly, though, is that we did this using handheld computers which were inspired by the show we were on twenty-five years ago.

Finally, in a nice, poetic bit of closing the circle: twenty-five years ago, I helped Patrick Stewart set up his first Mac II computer. It was an incredible technological marvel, that blew me away… and it didn't have a fraction of the computing power or memory of my four-and-half ounce smart phone.

I love living in the future.