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Showing posts from 2011


  Warning: possible spoilers for all 5 of you who have not seen the following but intend to someday: The Shop Around The Corner, In The Good Old Summer Time, You’ve Got Mail , the play She Loves Me, the play Parfumerie, and all the others who have ripped off that plot. Every year, Hollywood throws together a few haphazard romantic comedies in a way that suggests they think it’s the easiest thing in the world to do. Just throw together two good-looking actors, have them fall over once or twice, maybe a supporting role for an up-and-coming comic, and voila! You are done.  Oh nonononono. This is why, if I say I like romantic comedies, I might as well be saying I like Hummel figurines or velvet paintings of crying eagles. I only like good ones, OK! Of which only a handful have been released since the end of Hollywood’s golden age. Romantic comedies are actually the hardest genre to get right. A good romantic comedy is a delicate machine of many intricate parts. Rem


Those of us who read science fiction know that even SF of the finest quality can be represented by truly fugly covers that cause us embarrassment while riding the bus. The two major ways they tend to go wrong are: 1) attempting to depict scenes in the book photo-realistically while failing in knowledge of basic anatomy , and 2) having way, way too many things (and fonts) going on at the same time . No wonder e-books are so big with the fandom. This is the one that allowed me to finally realize my dream of having something on Good Show Sir .   Why, hello there, giant-brain-eyeball-octopus-bat-guy! And what’s behind your head? It’s not the moon, because it doesn’t go all the way around. An enormous cantaloupe, perhaps? This one just has too many elements. Do we really need a blue alien, a rocket, purple tomatoes/pumpkins, pseudo-Mayan panther/snakes, AND a bug-eyed alien with one antenna holding a wine glass?  If this is about a human who swaps minds wi


Better than just about anything, really * Someone recently brought up Billy Bragg to me as an exception that I should make to my curmugeonly, folkie-hating ways. Well, I did see him back when young and less set in my convictions, and he did not impress me that much. (Now, I want to preface this by saying that I do not feel the burning hatred of a thousand suns for actors or musicians who express political opinions, such as some conservative commentators feel for all those not named Ronald Reagan.  If you go to far in that direction, you might as well say anyone who was not actually a politician couldn't comment on politics, and how sad would that be? It would eliminate both Noam Chomsky (linguistics professor) and Glenn Beck (morning drive-time DJ). Glenn Beck isn't wrong because he's self-taught, he's wrong because he thinks Obama will give the United States to George Soros to make into his own personal socialist fiefdom.) Bragg started out with a recording of


Photo by Brea B. I had a fun Halloween spreading cheer as a Harajuku fairy. JSeux was horrific as usual, but I love my man a little monstrous. Wearing a corset was not bad. It's fine as long as you can sit up straight or stand (or even dance), it's just like someone is hugging you all the time. It's hard for maneuvering, like getting out of a car. It would keep me from slouching pretty well, though. I figure I can wear it for a steampunk or Wild West look in the future. What were you for Halloween?