XKCD Comics

There's this quite clever gent named Randall Munroe that does these wonderful and bizarre comics. This one makes me laugh, it has a bit of the same sort of zen sensibility as the AT&T / Steve Colbert video.

And actually, they all make me laugh.

Little Jack?

Fellow BC-er and 24 fan, Vic Lana just sent this to me.

Thanks Vic, a good laugh!

A Simpsons Sky

Yesterday, and the day before – the sky has looked EXACTLY like the blue colored, puffy clouded rendering in The Simpsons opening credits. It’s so strange to look out and see the thick cotton sky-shapes and not hear the happy theme song that has brightened many a Sunday night.

Which reminds me:




Woo Hoo!!

AT&T History

This is timely, given the recent frustrations with my tax filings. Plus, gotta love that Terminator synchronicity

Terminator 2: Judgement Day

Though I’m struck with the beauty of the younger Arnold and Robert Patrick, how tight and fresh they look; something else needs to be addressed. Why would the future John Connor send back a cybernetic organism to Southern California – with an Austrian accent? Why not Chicano?

OK, now that we’ve gotten that out of the way, let’s just have fun with random T-2 observations
Love the T 1000 masquerading as a housewife with that mimetic polyalloy arm. Never drink from the carton again! Brilliant too is when T 1000 just comes out of that floor at the Pescadero State Hospital, that checkerboard linoleum suddenly rippling and forming into something unholy. A beautiful bit of filming -lovely!

How about when Sarah clobbers the face-licking orderly with a broken mop handle turned huge shank/tonfa. Nice! Then she exchanges it for a the orderly’s real tonfa and she’s set to go. Yeah, about Sarah, she’s a different girl this time out. She’s buff and paranoid. Don’t much care for that too long fringe of bangs over her eyes, but yet it fits. She can’t really looked too coiffed in the nuthouse!

You forget how good something is like the scene when Sarah confronts her nemesis The Terminator. When the elevator doors open, her terror evident in her skidding on the floor all nice and slo-mo.

And of course, Robert Patrick as T 1000 – his movements; spare and single-minded, usually in pursuit of Sarah and young John. Good, good stuff.

Music Delivery

Another Hot Topic for discussion at The Mondo Project - involves our chosen method of music delivery. Below was my unabridged contribution:

Ah, I don’t have any one special preference of my music listening experience. Vinyl is out, for no more reason than our turntable just stopped working, and with the advent of the CD, there seemed no reason to resurrect the process of listening to a vinyl recording.

Now, the CD is all purpose, it’s fairly transportable and the quality is fine – that is until it gets scratched. Then you have to endure the disdain of anyone else in your listening area. Typically what happens to me is that I’m driving along, windows down, and whatever CD in question moves to a beloved track, for example “Run Like Hell” from Pink Floyd’s The Wall. Of course, I raise the volume and hit the accelerator simultaneously.

Then either one of two things happen; I have to screech to a sudden halt at a traffic light, and the CD decides to stat skipping. Heads swivel in my direction, and I pretend to find something important in the backseat. OR – as I’m driving along merrily, red and blue lights flash behind me, I am pulled over, and as the officer approaches à la Robert Patrick’s motorcycle cop in Terminator 2, the bloody CD skips all over the place. At that point, I wish I were terminated.

But I am also delighting in the absolute special kind of internalized joy and musical fidelity that is provided by wearing headphones. I was just commenting to Sir Saleski recently that music, especially when delivered by headphones is so friggin motivating! This works by either plugging headphones right into the computer, or by carrying the music with me. Now of course, wandering around the house carrying my laptop and cleaning is just a mite unwieldy, so that’s where the mp3 player comes into the picture.

And how can someone NOT want to scrub their toilets just a bit brighter when hearing Mahalia Jackson’s “Didn’t it Rain” or for that matter, Lily Allen pondering the sights and sounds of London as only she can in her Pop/Ska offering “LDN”. I mean, seriously! And I swear to God that I wouldn’t have trained so hard for my black belt if it weren’t for Greenday’s “Brain Stew”, or Mighty Mighty Bosstones’ “The Impression that I Get” queued up on my little Rio Nitrus.

But one of my favorite ways to hear music is at an outdoor concert, on a perfect sunny 78 degree day. The sound system may not reproduce the music as well as those methods I just spoke of, but there’s something about this setting that raises the endorphins sky high.

Lost Words

It’s a shame when I as an artist start to resent all and everything around me. It sucks when I am blessed with the nub of an idea, but the opportunity to expand on that idea is wiped away. It’s more then frustration – for me, its grief.

I had so loved that idea that developed in the shower, while driving to the grocery store or helping with homework. I could see it develop in my mind’s eye, like a time-lapse film that shows the transformation from seedling to flower blossom. And I get excited and hurry through the rest of the task, itching to sit down and work through whatever beauty of a concept or anecdote that I had just conceived.

But something stops me. It doesn’t matter what that thing is; it could be a child’s request or a phone call. No, it doesn’t matter what blocked my path to creative Nirvana, something else grows inside me: resentment. I am losing an idea, again. I feel like an emergency room doctor in the most disease ridden, or war-savaged location on earth. A doctor who has seen too much loss, who feels like “time of death” is part of her vocabulary way more then something like, “and now you can have ice cream, and go home tomorrow.”

And just like our doctor’s frustration with lack of resources, political climate or corrupt governments, I am discouraged by lack of time, respect and privacy. Discouraged and saddened because those oh so pretty words that formed in my head hours ago are missing. Oh sure, if I got that one good idea, chances are I’ll come up with another one. And I do! But I still hold a little empty place in my heart for that sweet turn of phrase that spent only the briefest of moments alive in my right brain.

Time of Birth: 11:46 AM
Time of Death: 11: 52 AM

Some musings from my friends and I over at The Mondo Project on the state of the Sitcom.

Winds Over Boston

We’re in the middle of a Nor’easter here in New England. It also happens to coincide with the annual running of the Boston Marathon. In the past, the race would start at 12:00 noon, from Hopkinton, MA and continue on the 26 miles into downtown Boston.

Pictured is the Women's Wheelchair winner, Wakako Tsuchida of Japan.

Right now there are reported 50 mph winds blowing around the Copley Square finish line area. I’m not sure how strong the winds are around here, but over night a neighbor’s very large (35 – 40 feet) evergreen was brought down. Luckily it fell in the direction of no houses or power lines.

I know all the talk of flood warnings makes everyone around here shiver, and not from the high winds. Last year we had the horrible Mother’s Day floods and personally I’ve never seen anything like that. Not even hurricanes Gloria and Bob seemed to bring that much destruction. I’ll never forget driving by someone’s flooded house, and even at night, you could see the water in their basement was at least 3/4 of the way up the foundation. The mighty Merrimack River welled up and over its banks, and flooded the boulevards on either side.

Amazing!

Jack Bauer and Ari Gold

Can you dig this? In some version of reality (and reality is used loosely), I see a beautiful pairing of these two kick-ass kinda dudes. Now, their educations and skill sets are quite different. Jack has extensive training in weapons and hostage negotiations; he went to SWAT school for crying out loud! He does have a Masters in Criminology and Law, but his book learning is more than supplemented by time spent in the Army Special Forces.

Ari on the other hand benefits from the special kind of combat training that is unique to Hollywood; feeding the hungry press, dancing with impatient studios, and cultivating actors. Interestingly though, along with his MBA from the University of Michigan, according to Wikipedia.org, he picked up a nice little JD. Somehow this makes sense.

They are both direct, brutally so. They say what needs to be said, although Jack delivers much less BS than Ari. And since Entourage airs on HBO, Ari and the rest of the boys can fling the f*cks, sh*ts…well mostly it’s the f*cks…and get away with it. In style, I might add especially in Ari’s case. To borrow from A Christmas Story, he can work “in profanity the way other artists might work in oils or clay.”

A sampling courtesy of IMDb:

“Is that the way they drive in Tiananmen Square, bitch?”

“The next one after "Queens Boulevard" is a studio picture: I'm talking franchise, baby. We'll get you the lunchbox. And an action figure with a monster cock.”

“You can have it if you want to live in Agora fucking hills, and go to group therapy, but if you want a Beverly Hills mansion, a country club membership, and nine weeks a year in a Tuscan villa, then I'm gonna need to take a call when it comes in at noon on a motherfucking Wednesday.”

Although Jack Bauer is constrained by the sensibilities of network programming, he therefore must resort to more violence than swearing. He may only be able to say “damn”, but he’s quite gifted with sticks, stones, and breakin’ bones. Though Ari may talk about cutting off someone’s Matzoh balls, you’re pretty sure that Jack would actually do it.

They don’t dress the alike, although Jack cuts a fine figure in a proper suit, he tends to do his best work in Levis and a hoodie. Mr. Gold dresses beautifully; surely he’ll keep Mr. Blackwell at bay. But they accessorize the same; they both favor the Treo 650 mobile.

Mostly what they have in common; is a lot of brains, never enough time, and the ability to make snap decisions without a lot of fuss. Probably what’s the most crucial shared trait is a sheer force of nature that can tame terrorists, Washington and Hollywood bureaucrats, and all the office assistants in Southern California.

This is the Power Couple of the new Millennium.

The other day I was searching through TicketMaster, hoping to find some interesting shows coming up. I ended up on some national pages, so I was viewing venues across the country, and their offerings. It took a minute, but I eventually noticed that the theaters, arenas, and other centers all looked way too…too, oh what’s the word – stupid.

U.S. Airways Center? American Airlines? Continental? Are these bloody airports or entertainment venues? How about the Allstate and Nationwide Arenas? Sure, it’s a sign of the times, commerce, capitalism; all those things that make the world go ‘round, I Get That. But surely there has to be a line drawn somewhere?

Seeing these names, Verizon, Xcel, RBC, 1st Mariner, and Dunkin Donuts? – I am left feeling as I just consumed too many donuts and washed them down with sugary Pepsi (yet another center in Denver). I feel ill and a victim of over consumption. Just who the consumer is – is unclear.

Here in New England, two of our major sports centers were totally rebuilt, and renamed. It took a long time to get used to changing the name of The Boston Garden to the Fleet Center. But Bostonians got used to it eventually; having a large center named after a bank wasn’t that bad. And we got used to Gillette Stadium replacing Foxboro, (even though the stadium was still in Foxboro). But although Fenway Park could use some refurbishing, I can’t imagine the uproar in on Lansdowne Street if that piece of history was renamed.

As I continued my perusal of TicketMaster’s offerings, it was refreshing to see familiar names such as Dodger, Giants and Dolphins Stadiums still surviving. But McAfee Coliseum? Is this for real? Oh sure, they still call it “The Coliseum”, and ignore the McAfee, (or previously Network Associates Coliseum – which they just called “the Net”), but what was wrong with the original Oakland-Alameda County Coliseum for a name, besides being a little unwieldy, it made sense, for crying out loud.

A few years back, I wrote this piece on professional sports and renaming rights as part of a larger chapter on sports in the U.S.

“In the “old days” athletes might indeed stay on a team for the length of their career, much like in any employment situation of the same era - you stayed with your company until retirement. Things changed though. A new reality surfaced and many fans wondered if the ‘bottom line’ was becoming more important than the goal line. The last few decades in sports have seen players signing contracts worth millions of dollars, huge ticket increases, labor strikes, and corporate marketing that seemed to jeopardize what sports used to mean.

Gone were the days of The Boston Garden, Candlestick Park and Jack Murphy Stadium. Those revered old institutions were replaced with The Fleet Center, 3Com Park, and Qualcomm Stadium. True, these older ballparks or arenas were aging and not as structurally sound as they used to be. But what these and many other cities gained in new shiny new stadiums, they also gained in corporate labeling.

Re-naming rights were a bitter pill for fans to swallow. They sometimes fought back however, like the citizens of Denver, CO., to stop the renaming of their much-loved “Mile High Stadium” to “Invesco Field at Mile High”. Though the name was eventually changed to Invesco, even the Denver Post newspaper had stated reluctance to use it in their sports reporting.

In more recent years though, those cash-rich companies started to fade, as the expenditures of owning sports stadiums wreaked havoc on balance sheets. The Walt Disney Co. who - in their search for the elusive business synergy - had purchased both the Angels baseball team, and established the NHL’s Mighty Ducks. Hoping for tie-ins from merchandising and film projects, Disney’s plan lasted about five years. Since revenues did not meet expectations, they have now since sold the Angels to an Arizona businessman for the bargain price of $183.5 million and would like to sell the Ducks as well.

The sale of the Angels illustrates a change in the business of professional sports. As corporations not only had to answer to fans, players and coaches, they also had to answer to shareholders. Recently both business and sports analysts have reported on the trend of teams returning to family ownership. This makes American fans happier, enforcing what they love so much about sports.”

I fear most times I am the simpleton, not fully aware of the ways of the world, not savvy about sustainable competitive advantages, aware of aggressive advertising strategies or a brainiac about branding. But I’ve learned a thing or two about greed and avarice.

Corporate renaming of all these big beautiful venues smacks of both.

Goodbye D.J.: Former Celtics Guard Dead at 52

I heard the news last night, one of those moments that bring instant nostalgia mixed with sadness.

Dennis “D.J.”, Johnson, dead at the so very young age of 52.

Now, many are more qualified to write about his stats as player and coach, but I know as a Boston Celtics fan from the ruling days of the mid 1980s, I am just as qualified to write about what #3 meant to me and the rest of the NBA. You see there was this extraordinary group of players, way back then, who worked parquet chemistry that has rarely been replicated since.

I never followed professional sports much before or after those glory days, but to me the band of brothers known as Ainge, D.J., The Chief, McHale, Bird; these men absolutely defined ‘Dream Team’, even before the ’92 Olympics. And now the dream has been diminished as if there was a funky rift in a sports version of the space-time continuum.

Of course, Dennis Johnson was not a cancer researcher or on his way to be canonized for selfless work in the name of humanity, he was just an average guy from Compton, but he developed into an outstanding ball player, an outstanding team player. One of the best moments of Celtics lore (and memorably called by the iconic Johnny Most) was during game 5 of the 1987 Eastern Conference finals. Larry Bird stole a pass from the Detroit Pistons’ Isiah Thomas and whipped it to DJ, who laid the ball in the net for a one point lead in the final seconds of the game.

“…Oh MY, this place is going crazy…”

I remember that moment so vividly – but now the overall image of those days has just had a significant piece ripped away.

Dennis Johnson leaves his wife Donna; and three children Dwayne, Daniel and Denise.

The Cancellation of The OC: Ryan, I hardly Knew Ye

Yeah, there was this show, not sure what network – but it sure generated some buzz among generation – what is now, Y? Z? OK, anyway, the kids liked it. Being the sort of person who at least pretends to be up on all things current, I had an inkling, a whisper, a gauzy bit of cognizance that this was some new show, starring some young hot things, and that sort of handsome guy with the eyebrows, Peter Gallagher. Mischa Barton was another name that floating in and out of my awareness, either for her achievements in being thinner than an 8 ½ by 11 sheet of copy paper or for the fetching purse she carried to some happening Hollywood fête. Other than that, I paid little attention to the show.

Now I hear it’s being canceled, and strangely the news gives me a little pang.

Why? I won’t exactly miss it. Now, please don’t get up in arms about this statement. I barely watched it – so I can really not miss something I didn’t see. And, it should be made clear at this juncture that I had no pretensions or snobbish intent. I wasn’t above watching it – I just didn’t feel I should make time for too many extra shows. I already have a few favorites that I feel I have already ‘committed to’ and it’d just be a bit too much to add one more show to my schedule.

But here’s the thing, one night a week or two ago, I watched nearly a whole episode. It was especially freaky, because two of the characters were yakking about alternative universes, or something equally nutty. I kept checking the ‘info’ button on my remote control. Yes, this was The O.C. No, this wasn’t Charmed. Nor was this an old episode of Sliders, Buffy the Vampire Slayer, or Quantum Leap where those kinds of popping in and out of ‘multiverse’ situations are common occurrences. And it certainly wasn’t The One with the wonderful Jet Li and the delicious Jason Stratham.

So, there were those two young-uns, typical privileged California types carrying on as if they were stuck in one of the above-mentioned Sci-Fi classics. Not that I minded either way, just trying to get my bearings. Thankfully, because of a much needed scene change, I realized that these two kids were actually lying in hospital beds, each in some state of coma type non-awareness.

Wow!

Hey, this was neat, if not a little – or a lot – contrived. I knew that because of the extra monkey wrench of the whole parallel world deal that I may not actually figure out who was who, or why they cared or hated one another. But in that short 40 minutes or so, I found that I actually had begun to care about those bright shiny kids and their parents and assorted other peeps, alternative or not.

So, though I’m not greatly saddened by the cancellation, I’m hoping that some version of The O.C. will live on in television’s answer to the multiverse – the re-run.

Half Time Show:

Prince.

Or should I say, Austin Powers. Though I thought it was a pretty good show, and "Purple Rain" was pretty cool with actual rain - the whole phallic symbol guitar playing behind the scrim sheet thing - was preettty damn phallic. Who knows if it was intentional, and suggestiveness aside it was an interesting effect.

The glow-stick marching band was a nice touch too.

Coke is having some kick-ass commercials. Career Builder dot com's new campaign is good as well. Very funny.

Superbowl:

First thoughts.

Didn't like the pre-game show. Not sure why. Had definite strong points. Colorful (though the color combination grated on me.) Cirque du Soleil - looks good on paper. But I was not impressed. What was wrong? I'll have to work on this.

Commercials though, looking good. Even that Ford pick up one. Especially that one. Visually tight and intiguing.

File this under: Didn’t See That Coming.

This hasn’t been the best week. At all. I feel as if I’ve had a few of these lately, but this week had some totally new challenges. Yes, I guess we can call them that. No need to elaborate on everything now, but let’s say that self confidence has been sizably compromised of late.

Now, what I want to relay next is something I debated about posting. I really am not fond of confrontation and fights and I don’t see the need to make a big who-ha out of this. Seriously. Yet something about this whole thing makes me angervated. (This being a ‘sniglet’ I came up with on my own. A mutation of ‘anger’ and ‘aggravated’. When you’re not full on angry, but you’re more than aggravated.) I guess throw in a mix of frustration, embarrassment, and a healthy pinch of sadness.

Anyway, one day this week I had to pick up a sick child at school. This pick up was coincidently at the regular dismissal time. My son was feeling nauseous, and didn’t want to take the bus home for fear of the big public upchuck. Never a cool thing at any age. As was discussed with the school nurse, I would drive to a particular section of the parking lot, and meet my child there. OK that’s fine. I drive to school, and as I’m pulling into the parking lot, I see parents outside their vehicles, waiting for their children to be dismissed.

Now, the thing is, this ‘parent pick up’ is all new to me. I’ve either picked up my kids before the end of school, or more commonly, after the regular hours, due to this activity or that.

So, I’m having a running conversation in my head.

“Hey, do I get out and go get him?”

“Hmm, maybe I do, I see other parents there.”

“OK then, I better find a parking spot.”

Now, granted this dialogue happened a lot faster in my head, no matter – the point was moot – my son was in sight, walking over to my truck.

“OK wow, here he is.”

I slow down, and wait for him.

Now, here’s where it gets weird. All of a sudden there’s a police car behind me, lights flashing. I don’t remember if the siren was going, but I think it was.

“Oh man, what’s going on? Hope there’s not a bomb threat or something; I better get out of the way”

Then I am confused, why didn’t she go around me? There was room. I wait for a second, and I figure that I better drive a little further down, to ensure a wide berth. And I should add that driving away from my son, even just a few feet away, weirded me out. Sure, he’s not a little tiny kid, he’s nearly 12. He can figure out that I’m not far. I don’t even consider myself especially over-protective. But still, the mom in me hated that I had to do that.

The officer does not go around; she follows me until I am further away from the other cars. Then she goes around and is rolling down her window, and I roll down mine.

“You cannot double park back there, you must park your car and go and get your child”

“Oh, I’m sorry, I never do this Parent Pick-up and wasn’t sure”

“Well you were given a notice at the beginning of the school year”

“But he saw me and was coming over!”

By now, my son is getting in the truck. “My stomach hurts” He looked pale. I turned back to the officer.

“I’ve never done this before”, I repeated. “My son is actually sick, that’s why I’m driving him home.”

“You were doubled parked” “You can’t put the children’s lives in danger” (I’m paraphrasing that last part)

Well heck, she had a good point. And I know ignorance of the law is no excuse. (OK, I think it should be an excuse sometimes) But my point was, not about right or wrong, just a little understanding. But she was so stern – so…well, I can’t actually think of the right term (strange for me!). I guess this was unsettling because there was a sense of – ‘dear God, this got totally one-sided, I’m not being heard, I am not being understood.’ And this, dear friends, is like a knife in my gut.

To be in the middle of something of import, to be deep into an emotionally charged situation – whether that situation lasts for 5 minutes or several years – and to be not understood, is the worst kind of frustration. It’s distressing, to say the least. Even in this mini-event with the police officer, that feeling was there.

But to her last statement, I knew that it wasn’t worth getting into a whole big deal with, she was right.

“You’re right, I am sorry.”

“Damn right.”

Well, honestly, I’m not sure that’s what she said, but, it sure sounded like it. And I was incredulous. I actually stared at her for a second or two. And so help me God, I nearly called her on it. So bad I wanted to say, “Did you just say damn right to me?” Damn Right. Wow. I was beginning to feel a little pissy, right then and there.

Now, of course there’s a chance she didn’t say that. I wanted to give her the benefit of the doubt. Why would she want to get snarky with me? But if she had said it, that was totally uncalled for, and there wasn’t any reason for me to be treated like that.

Now, I suppose I’ll never know IF she said that. Whatever those last words of hers were, it wasn’t coming from a place of “OK, M’am, just don’t do it again” or even a “Thank you”. Whatever she finished up our tête-à-tête with, felt just as bad, just as embarrassing; as the vibe of the whole episode.

Actually, this frustration of not being understood, not given a chance to explain just a hair of what was going on, reminded me of that odd, nearly one-sided, but hilarious conversation between John Candy’s Buck Russell and Amy Madigan’s Chanice Kobolowski in the 80’s classic, Uncle Buck:

Just let--

No, but-- You don't--

Would you just--

Give me--

Let me get--

You're not-- Give me a--

Good-bye.

The exception being that that bit from the movie was funny. What was happening in the school parking lot wasn’t funny at all.


Cops aren’t perfect. The Shield aside, we just know this because we know that no one is perfect, it’s part of the human condition. But I try like hell to not give grief to anyone (except tele-marketers), and I want my kids to remember that the Police truly are our friends, even when they are writing up a speeding ticket. They’re trying to save lives by this sort of thing; it’s not always just to fill a quota

To close, this was yet another challenging parenting moment. How do you talk to you child about your frustrating interaction with a person in authority, retain honesty, yet not corrode their sense of respect for the law? Nobody likes being disciplined. Nobody. However, if there’s any modicum of maturity, we’ll maybe grumble a little, but accept, pray learn from it, and move on.

And hopefully, treat each other a little nicer.

As I was sitting around eating bon bons, I started reflecting on the show 24. Now, as many of you know, I've been covering the show for Blogcritics Magazine, waxing ever so eloquent on the comings and goings of Jack and the rest of his Scooby Gang.

I thought about the show, and the dialogue, and what fun I and my fellow columnists have with it. Now, 24 is fairly jargon heavy, and we have had many a giggle at the expense of the poor "perimeters", the harried "hostiles", and the woebegone "work-arounds".

I don't know why we do this, I've never dreamed (or McDreamed) of making fun of my favorite medical shows, and their "lactated ringers", "gastric lavage", "Chem-7", or "IV push". Or cop shows - I mean, really "Book 'em" is like every day talk, isn't it?. Or the legal shows too, seem fairly ordinary, just about everyone I know can utter AND understand "writ of habeas corpus" sure as they were ordering a hot dog from a friendly street vendor.

I suppose it could be that doctor, cop, and lawyer shows been around for as long as we have - and we're used to them. Also, we have a personal connection. Everyone and their brother has either been to a doctor's office and/or a hospital. Many of us have spoken with a lawyer and served on a jury. And plenty of us have had some sort of interaction with the boys in blue.

But who all hangs out in a counter-terrorisim joint?

Colts 38
Patriots 34


After the late touchdown, with a minute or so to go in the game, we still could have done it - but Marlin Jackson intercepted Brady's last pass of the 2006 -2007 season.

Oh well. I guess there's next year.

Back with the action. My Adam - OK, he's not my Adam anymore, but he just evened things up with his own damn FG.

Damn!

OK, a few sips of beer later (Yes, a Corona with Lime. Shut up Sir Mark.) and a few Rosemary and Olive Oil Triscuits later - Gostkowski kicked a close field goal now we're 34 to their 31.

I am having hot flashes. Of course, it could be due to this lap top cooking away here, and the nice fire going in the fireplace.

Oh man - this is nerve wracking.

In case anyone wonders why lil Frodo's pic is here on this blog, I took a liquid generation test and found that as far as movie heros go, I'm Frodo. And for villians, I'm Jack Nicholson's alter ego in The Shining, Jack Torrance. Sweet, eh?