From Kashyyyk to Corpus Christi

Forget Mt. Rushmore, the Grand Canyon, Old Faithful, and even amber waves of grain. One of the universe's greatest natural wonders has found a new home in America. If there was ever a case for easing the barriers to immigration--it is the great Wookie, Chewbacca.

Yes, the actor that portrayed Chewie recently became an American citizen. His wife, a Texan (is that really in America?) seduced him to the wonders of the MOST BUTT-KICKIN' NATION OF LIKE ALL TIME!!! Since the actor (Peter Mayhew) is quite boring--kinda awkward, sinewy, and generally in need of a stylist--the press latched onto his more limb-ripping-capable alter ego.

But what if Chewbacca was real? What kind of job would he get here? In fact, what would other Star Wars characters do here in America? Would their lives be improved?

Chewbacca - Chewie would be the Jared of Rogaine. While not glamorous, it's a profitable way to exploit his hirsute nature. Step down: While being chased by Imperial Troops for smuggling is certainly dangerous, the inevitability of dying-on-the-inside-as-a-corporate-spokesperson is moreso.

Anakin Skywalker - Clearly would be come the next Great White Rapper. While his performance skills need a definite boost, he's got enough angst to go to 9 mile. Step up: the darkside of rapping is becoming lighter by the minute. Plus, an iced-out lightsaber would be cool.

Darth Vader - While technically Anakin, I'm separating them for the purpose of paying homage to James Earl Jones. This Dark Lord of the Sith would make a terrific fast food drive-through cashier (link with video). "Would you like to galacti-size that? (breathing noises)". Step down: MOST fast-food chains frown upon employees force-choking customers when they don't bus their own plastic trays.

Luke Skywalker - The next Gilbert Gottfried. "But I wanted to go to Tashi Station to pick up some power converters!!!" Whiney-ness personified. Step undecided: getting off of his farm on Tattoine alone would be an improvement, unless he moved to the midwest. That's right, I said it.

Princess Leia - Would immediately be pushed as the next-big-thing. Young, attractive, and has a powerful message--she'd be taught how to sing, go on tour, cut a record deal, and appear numerous times on TRL. When her hairstyle goes out of vogue she crashes hard and spends the rest of her life in a drug-addled personal hell of regret and remorse. Step down: Preferable to be tortured by Grand Moff Tarkin than end up dating Nick Carter.

Han Solo - He's destined to become a world-famous archeologist who travels the world and fights the evil Nazis while saving things that belong in museums. Step even: He still rakes in the ladies and has plenty of adventure and excitement. Of rcourse, there's a small chance he enters the LA police force as a homicide detective, in which case it'd be the second worst step down I ever saw as a movie.

Yoda - Our little green, grammatically-challenged friend would work down at the docks, unloading big cargo tankers with his mind. Definite step up from the Dagobah swamps. Also, working with mafia-tied foremen would be better than having to teach young boys how to center their minds.

Obi-Wan Kenobi - Ever the gentle soul, Obi-Wan will become a marriage counsellor. After years of solving people's problems with the wisdom of the Jedi, he will realize there is one thing missing in his life--love. Of course that love involves a young Padawan and a fetish for the rat-tail hairdon't. Step down: since his brand of passion is illegal in most states (except one or two).

Jar Jar Binks - As he eventually does in the movies, Jar Jar would become elected to the U.S. Senate. Step down: Hanging out with the likes of Pat Roberts is definitely worse than Natalie Portman.

Darth Maul - A man(?) in love with his makeup, Maul will take the logical step and go straight into the clown industry. Sadly, he'll slice more kids in half with his lightsaber than he'll make happy with his bantha-balloon animals...because that's who he is. Step down for obvious reasons.

R2D2 - R2D2 would be repurposed to refridgerate and distribute the newest Pepsi product at a heavy metal summer music festival. Step down: Having to smell the stench of a thousand sweaty kids is worse than getting zapped by blaster fire. On second thought, since R2 can't smell, it probably doesn't matter. Step even.

C3Po - Starbucks barista. The megacorp will soon begin replacing workers with robots. His encyclopedic knowledge of languages will help him understand the nuanced language of the caffeine addict and remember the exact ingredients and names of the umpteen million things on the menu. Step up: Threepio was never one for adventure and excitement. He's human-cyborg relations for chrissakes!

Senator Palpatine - He'd see the current state of affairs in politics and realize he doesn't have the potential for such corruption and skullduggery. Turning a complete 180, he'd become a high school science teacher, wowing the kids with the magic of electricity. Step up: the children are our future.

Jabba the Hutt - The great Hutt would be best suited as a car salesman, particularly for the Yukon Denali. His mafia background and slimy attitude would be perfect for the job. Secondarily, a giant SUV would be the only thing he'd be able to get around in. Step down: no Big Tent Sale Event will ever rival having Princess Leia dance for you whenever you want (and in a gold bikini nonetheless).

Boba Fett - On his way into the country, Boba would be flagged and detained by the Department of Homeland Security. Those guys don't mess around. Step down.

9 steps down, 4 steps up, 2 even/undecided. America is no friend to the galaxy far far away! I could go further, but that should be good enough to cover for the more casual Star Wars fan.

Cotton: The Fabric of Our Lives

I saw this t-shirt on someone today. Not a better way to put it.

I am not herein professing my religious leaning (related sound link!)...that post would bore the junk out of you. However, there is a certain special someone who has professed his religious leaning and is in charge of more than one bomb.

Textbook Symbolism

Today a piece of the facade fell off of the entrance to the Supreme Court. The unleashed vengeance of a protective Masonic curse? An autoaedicidal attempt of an animistic/anthropomorphic architectural achievement? Either way, clearly fueled by recent history. Don't blame me, you know who I voted for.

Rest In Peace

Four million three-hundred twenty-one thousand. If you subtract around twenty-three thousand from that you have signed your own death warrant.

Or so the Death Dealers of Domino Day (see post) would have us believe.

On the fateful day in question only about 200,000 dominoes were left standing. The great wave had nearly made its way around the stadium. But from the crowd one lone figure rose against Goliath. With a small beak and high metabolism, our David lashed out in desparation and felled (only a few parts of) the Philistine's army (still a moral victory).

Lest you think I'm obsessed with white pock-marks on black plastic...this is a song of woeful mourning. Spokesman Jeroen van Waardenberg (who has entirely too many vowels in his name) said organizers made a "split-second" decision to shoot down the bird. "That bird was flying around and knocking over a lot of dominoes. More than 100 people from 12 countries had worked for more than a month setting them up," he said.

Geert the bird. Shot at a ripe young age after inadvertantly stumbling his way into a massive endeavor beyond his comprehension. What course of action could you have as a bird but to go completely psycho and start knocking down everything in sight?

Hearing the depressing news of another domino-related "statistic", I immediately held a seance. Geert chirped to me the great mysteries of life as revealed to him post-avicide. As the small and feathered apparition floated towards me--it spaketh.

Here it is the truth as revealed to me.

BIG BIRD IS NOT A BIRD AT ALL. HE IS A SERIES OF DWARVES STANDING UPONST EACHOTHER INSIDE A COSTUME MADE IN CHINA.

ALL UNKNOWN MEATS TASTE LIKE CHICKEN BECAUSE THE DUCKS HAVE ADVANCED BEYOND YOUR COMPREHENSION IN THE FIELDS OF GENETICS AND CHEMISTRY.

ALL WOODPECKERS ENJOY HEAVY METAL MUSIC.

SEAGULLS AND PIGEONS TARGET YOU NOT BECAUSE IT GIVES THEM SOME SADISTIC SATISFACTION, BUT BECAUSE THEIR EXCREMENT MAKES YOUR HAIR HEALTHIER. PANTENE PRO-V IS MADE MOSTLY OF WASTE COLLECTED OFF OF OLD STATUES IN LONDON.

ON THE GROUND, BIRDS CAN RUN FASTER THAN CHEETAHS. WE JUST CHOOSE NOT TO.

THE PENGUIN HAS BEEN SHUNNED BY THE BIRD SPECIES BECAUSE IT ALWAYS DRESSES FUNNY.

ONE OF THE GREAT CONTINGENCIES OF THE MASTER DEFENSE PLAN OF THE KINGDOM OF BIRDS IS: IF DOMINO ORGANIZERS ARE GOING TO START CARRYING GUNS, WE ARE TO ARM OUR CLAWS/TALONS WITH DOG POO. IT ISN'T GOOD FOR YOUR HAIR AND IT IS INFINITELY MORE PRECISE.

Immediately after the seance ended, I drove to the store and bought an umbrella-hat. I suggest you do the same. They are coming with fire in their eyes and burning vengeance in their heart. Oh yes, they are coming.

Chain Reaction

There's something primal about the feeling. You see something fragile and complicated, and you want it to break or fail. Its like rubbernecking on the highway at the scene of a wreck. Or staring at a mole on someone's face.

I think that desire is two pronged like a snake's tongue. First, simply beholding something complicated working gives you the same nervous energy that drives people to theaters to watch horror movies. You know, or you think you know, that disaster is imminent. It's exciting, like waiting for Teen Extra #3 to get surprised and stabbed in a totally expected manner. If you've ever seen a cake making competition, you've felt the same thing when they transfer it to the judging table.

Second, there's an aspect of anticipating someone who has infinitely more patience (and probably more skill/dedication) than us be taken down a notch. They've put a lot on the line for a few seconds of glory, and we subconsciously want them to fail. It makes us feel good about ourselves.

What the HECK am I talking about? Chain Reactions.

People usually get their first joy with planned demolition in the form of Mousetrap. Roll something, move something, yada yada yada regular board game until...that magic moment. The RELEASE OF THE TRAP! Never before has someone been so happy to be caught. High fives all around! (watch the video in that last link)

The second wondrous encounter is with ye olde dominoes. Domino Rally was pretty popular back in the day, but its like an appetizer to the main course. 3, 992, 397 little fellas came together to form a perfect symphony. Wouldn't you hate to be THAT guy who accidentally knocked it over? I'm sure they'd get blackballed from the Domino Topplers Club.

But I bring to you the dessert....the climax of chain reactions. First, a 30 minute movie (clip is shorter) of a fantastical nature named "The Way Things Go". From a trash bag to a scooting ladder to a metallic tetherball, the kinetic energy just flows on down the line. Pretty darn amazing if you ask me.

And the marketing driven (pun intended) Honda commercial entitled "Cog" (smaller, crisper version). All parts from 2 hand-built prototypes (except the floor, walls, and final car). 606 takes in one week. 6 million dollar campaign. All supercool, and not a frame computer altered. You may ask yourself: "Self, how dem tires roll up hill like that?" Well country boy, there is a weight in each tire and when the tire is knocked, the weight is displaced and in an attempt to rebalance itself, the tire rolls up the slope. Its like magic (not Magic)!

This monumentous setup reminds me of the time I spent as a kid watching my dad build model ships. I always admired the patience and planning and tenderness it required. Good qualities missing of late in this caaaraaazy world.

The Luddite Returns

Two posts now have been deleted minutes before posting because of IE crashing. Damn William Gates! DAMN HIM!!!!

The Trouble With Tribbles

"Every sperm is sacred. Every sperm is great. If a sperm is wasted, God gets quite irate." So sayeth Monty Python, and His word be Law.

Luckily not everyone follows the law THAT closely, except apparently the Duggar family. This prolific couple has put even the peskiest intergalactic pest to shame. There might be hornier things in Arizona, but definitely nothing can hold a candle to the total package this family has to offer.

16 kids. SIXTEEN. One mom. A dad named Jim Bob. A site named www.jimbob.info (and a "new" site as well--one family with two websites?!)

Oh, could it get better? Yes. The kids all have "J" names.

Joshua, 17; John David, 15; Janna, 15; Jill, 14; Jessa, 12; Jinger, 11; Joseph, 10; Josiah, 9; Joy-Anna, 8; Jeremiah, 6; Jedidiah, 6; Jason, 5; James(link with sound) 4; Justin, 2; Jackson Levi, 1; and now Johannah.

I'm sure Jehosophat is next. A Jill but no Jack. A Jinger (!) but no Jennifer?

There are so many questions associated with this whole thing. So instead of going absolutely crazy retelling their magnificently strange story or pre-answering FAQs about the logistics of the whole thing, I'll just let you check out their websites.

Instead, I made a top ten list of things an 18-person family can do.

10. Shop at Sam's Club or else hold a weekly UFC to cut down on food costs!

9. Sink Rhode Island with their combined weight.

8. Make a more impressive one of these.

7. Win a human iditarod

6. Double----er 18-tuple date with the Partridge Family AND the Brady Bunch.

5. Create their own government, including three whole branches!

4. Have their own team dance competition

3. Maybe....just maybe...eat more than Takeru Kobayashi.

2. Dress up as almost all of Madonna's "image reincarnations" for Halloween.

1. Have their own Ultimate Team.

Fine, I have to say it. They are secretly grooming a clone army to take over the Republic.

Grab your lightsabers.

Ho, Ho, NOOOOOO!

Well it was a long long week past, chillin out down in Sarasota. I watched some good ultimate. More on that later. Something infinitely more tragic than a dropped disc has occured.

Rome has again fallen. Elmer Dresslar Jr. is dead. While I understand the overwhelming desire to rend your clothes and pull out your hair and wail at anger at the cruel world...please try to contain your grief.

The voice of the Jolly Green Giant is no more. Now we are doomed to a future of unrealistic imitations of the once-great vocalization. The ginormous spirit of one man has long filled the ginormous body of a great vegetable automaton. What indeed is this greater thing he has become? Let's take a closer look at the JGG.

VH1: BEHIND THE CHLOROPHYLL

As far as I can tell (or make up), there are three schools of thought as to who the Green Giant is, where he came from, and what makes him so jolly. After the spotlights dim, the paparazzi go home, and the curtain closes we are left with the story of one being who is larger than life.

Theory One: The Guardian Golem
Who shall protect our children from supersizement? One theory posits that the Giant is indeed a magical construct of an ancient religion...an animated being given life to protect those within the Green Valley from the woes of the outside world. Born from a frantic and xenophobic sentiment into the life of an eternal bodyguard, a golem of sorts, the JGG is as powerful as the vegetables he protects.

But what would vegetables possibly have to worry about? The Big Fella is bound to a geographical location, patrolling the borders for dangerous foes. Yet on his beat, this chloro-cop fights a much greater psychological battle for the good health of children everywhere.

The forests to the east hold the ever-encroaching and increasingly-daring Keebler Elves. They use the skins of the baby sprouts as the secret ingredients of their cookies and wear their peas as leguminous lavalieres. Even Gregor Mendel, with his wicked brand of social darwinism, would shudder at their savagery.

But in the hierarchy of menaces, one stands ahead of the rest. Shrouded in a cape of cocoa, sucking the very life out of children everywhere and replacing it with a sugar...Count Chocula. Bram Stoker's real secret inspiration now unveiled. Let's just say that Vlad the Impaler was Strawberry Shortcake compared to him.

His fight versus the Avatars of Sugar has inspired countless of children to forsake their candy bars to consume broccoli and turnip greens. He, while soulless and empty inside, provides a heroic template for humanity and vegetablekind--tirelessly defending his realm with really big fists.

Theory Two: The Terrible Green Tyrant
The second theory has been gaining steam of late, although not as well-supported as the first (but highly popular among the 4-14 year old demographic). It contends that the JGG is indeed a cruel and unusual despot. He rules with an Iron Green Thumb over the rest of the vegetables. He is all-seeing, all-knowing, and all-powerful when compared with the pea-ons under him. His sadistic empire runs on the power of his subjects. He has the ears of Corn spies everywhere.

The will to live has left all vegetables under his gaze. They have become bland and kinda grody tasting sometimes. Before his reign (BJGG) they were thriving and tasty, cauliflower tasted like Oreos. Carrot Juice was more popular than soda. But then the darkness came. A monster in mind and body came from a land far away and smashed his gavel down upon the Green Valley. His demanding cries of "Ho, Ho, Ho" are not "jolly" until the feminine companionship he requests by it arrive at his side.

Theory Three: The Jolly Green Misunderstood Mutant
A final theory puts the Giant in the place many have been before: a misunderstood mutant misappropriated for marketing mayhem. Next time you see him, notice the slight decrescendo in his "Ho, Ho, Ho!", notice the forced smile, and notice the deep voice. They all mask the pain of a child star.

A sort of reverse Webster, the JGG is really a 2 year old boy with a giant green body. Ripped from his normal life by overeager parents looking to exploit their child for profit, he is unable to understand his fame and is destined for a future of disappointment. He began growing at an astronomical rate at age 1 when his dog brought him back a bone it had found in an old toxic waste dump. Since then he started his TV career as a stunt double (until he accidentally smashed a helicopter) and a love-interest (cross-dressed of course) until he landed the Green Valley gig. He's currently confined to a celluloid cell, contractually chained to his character and condemned to continual type-casting. One day he'll break free and seek treatment, trading his unreal "jolliness" for real, vivid human emotions he has long repressed.

What kind of voice was Dresslar Jr? Who is the Jolly Green Giant? Decide for yourself.