the brass was phasing tunes i couldn’t place

Anne and I went up to Oregon this weekend to visit her grandmother. We try to make this trip at least 4 times a year, and the Autumn trip is always our favorite. The changing leaves, and cool weather restore a lot of our hit points, and this year getting away from the chows in the house gave us an extra 2d4 that we didn’t even realize we needed until we had them.

We always stay in Ashland, and every time we visit, we don’t want to come back to Los Angeles. I think we have officially made it our dream to eventually retire there.

While we were there, I took this picture, which you can embiggen at flickr via the magic of clicking:

ashland calaveras

“Anne’s a hairdresser and I’m a writer, so when we saw these calaveras right next to each other in an Ashland storefront this weekend, I had to stop and take a picture.

Unfortunately, I had to choose between having a slight reflection on the glass, or only having one of them in focus, so I opted to share this one. Trust me, it’s better than the alternative.”

I’ll upload some of the other pictures I took, mostly of changing leaves and shockingly tame deer when I get some of this actual work that piled up while I was gone done.

we don’t have anything by edmund wells, actually. he’s not very popular.

I Propelled an interview with Neal Stephenson this morning. The whole thing is an awesome read, but one thing in particular jumped out at me:

“If you choose to read a book today, it’s not like a hundred years ago, when that was your only option. Today, when you read a book, you’re making a conscious decision not to play a video game, not to surf the web, not to watch a movie, not to turn on the TV. It does require a certain discipline to make that decision.…”

It’s true, isn’t it? There are so many different ways for us to be entertained these days, but opening and falling into a book is still my favorite.

more fun with twitter

Earlier today, I went into Target to get some storage bins. While I was there, I paid a visit to the Halloween section. Because what I need is more Halloween decorations. Really. I do. Shut up. I do. After looking at the various decorations (mostly meh, but a few cool things) I rounded a corner and looked at the costumes. I saw something that, speaking as a geek and Halloween aficionado, horrified me. I told Twitter:

In the Halloween section, Target tries to pass off what is CLEARLY an Orc Barbarian sword as a “Giant Ninja” sword. I weep for the children.

I mean, seriously. This sort of thing pushes me one step closer to the breaking point.

Anyway, tonight, as the debate ended, I had a related thought:

McCain’s the kinda guy who would sell you an Orc Barbarian sword, and tell you it’s a Giant Ninja sword, my friends.

Please let me share some of the @responses I got, because they made me laugh out loud:

JoeyMcAllister: @wilw Well, he’s a maverorck.

Gygaxis: @wilw McCain is the kind of guy who will finish up your lobster even if you did want the rest.

Rhinehold: @wilw Obama is the kinda guy who would require that all xp was split evenly, even to henchmen, no matter who did what

dallasthegreat: @wilw look, we need to get away from the divisive orc vs. Ninja talking points and tackle the pirate problem.

Lobsticles: @wilw Sarah Palin once saw a sword, so she’s sort of an expert on Giant Ninja Swords.

Spaceman: @wilw yes. Why yes he is. He should be talking about mario plumber.

gamoid: @wilw IT’S DANGEROUS TO GO ALONE TAKE THIS

There were tons of hilarious responses in addition to these, but I saved the absolute best for last:

seanmc74: @wilw An old man dispensing swords is no basis for a system of government.

Bravo, seanmc74. I believe you just won yourself an Internets, sir.

i don’t know what i’m to say, i’ll say it anyway

If you are of a certain age, there are probably three seminal music videos that blew your mind at one point in your life: Money for Nothing, You Might Think, and Take on Me .
(Sigh. Okay, fine, and the extended version of Thriller. At least I’ll admit it. Shut up.)
Anyway, my friend Jun (who is also of a certain age) sent me this literal version of Ah-Ha’s Take On Me yesterday. I was amused, and thought I’d share.
BEHOLD!

egad, a base tone denotes a bad age

WWdN reader Katie D. was inspired by yesterday’s audiobook post, and sent me this incredibly awesome piece of art:

Several readers sent me this story from the Mail Tribune about some of Stand By Me’s locations. If you are up in Southern Oregon, and you want to see some of the train tracks and locations we walked along in Stand By Me, now you know how to find them.

I heard from WWdN reader Mike Massee that the trestle we ran across, which is located in Northern California, is being torn down. He was recently there, and took some beautiful pictures of it.

If you want to get your very own 8-bit clown sweater T-shirt, you can still do that.

Speaking of T-shirts, I haven’t pointed to the Wil Says Don’t Be A Dick T-shirt in a long time. I think I’ll do that right now. POINT! POINT! POINT!

I wrote the introduction to John Scalzi’s Your Hate Mail Will Be Graded. The book has shipped, and at least one reader liked it. Yay!

My dad and I went to the Dodger game last night. It was a hell of a game, right up until Torre decided to manage his bullpen like an 8 year-old playing MLB ’06 on the PS2.

I learned two things while I was at the game last night. First, the quality of an over-priced shitty cheese pizza is improved one million percent by the judicious application of jalapeños. You will pay for it 18 hours later, but pair it with an equally over-priced, shitty beer and it’s almost worth it. Second, a baseball game with your dad is great, but a playoff game with your dad – especially the first one you’ve ever attended together – is awesome. The last time the Dodgers were in the NLCS, I was 16, firmly in the grip of teenage angst, and I didn’t care about baseball precisely because it was important to my dad. Even though the Dodgers gave us a heartbreaking loss last night, it was a victory for me in the only way that really mattered.

. . . fuckin’ Dodgers.