Watch "Crash," y'all.

Also, remember to register for Otakon while it's still early.

Stab, Stab, Stab the Evil Infidel

Go watch Kingdom of Heaven. It's about the Crusades. It's seriously awesome. It has some phenomenal writing that never takes the easy road, and by some miracle makes a "medieval epic" seem fresh.

Spoilers: The Muslims win. Kay was cheering. I was mortified. Kay! You can't be cheering for the "bad guys!"

...

No, I don't care if you're Muslim, Kay.

BAD GUYS, I TELL YOU!!!!

Been going to UMCP a lot lately. Went a few weeks ago to attend a lecture about the role of video games in military training. Got to hang out with Silvia for a bit too. When I called her, she was like a few blocks from me. Small world.

Went down this weekend too to use the library, and also dropped by the United States Botanical Gardens (ooh, lots of plants. Moving on) and the Museum of the Native American Indian. Architecture = awesome. I haven't been through much of it, but the collection seemed kind of "eh" to me. This may be politically incorrect, but I can't say I'm too impressed with things made out of bits of leather, beads and rocks. The guns and swords were very impressive though. It does occur to me that the coolest thing about the Native American museum was the European artifacts. Do I care? Not really.

The World of Warcraft manga is teh suck. Go read it so you can complain about it with me.

I'm in a new D&D game with my roommates for next year. I figure it's a great way to get to know them. (If you're wondering- yes. They're girls.)

BTW, I'm moving to Casselman. Ironically, Kay, who lives in Casselman now, is moving to Antietam. Dammit, Kay!

Stay put!

It's called.. guessing.

Great Gamer GM says drop 2d10, aanndd... you roll 66% !

Not too bad- not too bad at all. You're not exactly a first generation gamer, and you probably have other hobbies besides rolling dice and slaughtering orcs, but you've managed to collect enough knowledge to impress even the most experienced gamer. Pull out a few more nights for gaming and spend some more time with the obscure books, soon you're well on your way to becomming the Ultimate Gamer.

My test tracked 1 variable How you compared to other people your age and gender: You scored higher than 66% on dice

Link: The Real Gamers use Dice Test written by luminasita on OkCupid Free Online Dating

On Wednesday, went to see Matisyahu, the Hasidic Reggae Superstar.

It's fuckin' awesome.

Went to U Penn a few weeks ago to look at their archaeological collection. They have the world's most extensive collection of Roman glass and the world's largest rock crystal, among other things. I really wish I was an archaeologist there- just their museum has a brown brick Byzantine facade, a stone fountain on the wall between the gates, and a bowl-shaped fountain in the middle of the courtyard circle. I don't know how U Penn's academics are (I know it's hard to get into and expensive) but I'm a sucker for good architecture. Apparently their department is in the middle of doing field research in Egypt though, which should count for something. Plus, a campus in the middle of Philadelphia makes me drool. The campus itself looks like a real city, but not in an intimidating way. Look at my campus- stuck off the exit of a highway and with architecture of 70's cinderblock, brick and cold glass. All our art exhibits are either displayed in some room in the Fine Arts Building, or in the gallery of the library.

Also in the same trip went to the Academy of Fine Arts, where you aren't allowed to take pictures. Took a look at city hall, which is pretentious yet awe-inspiring, and Reading Market, where I had a cheese steak. Duh.

Also, went down to DC for the last crowded day of the cherry blossom festival, and walked all over the National Mall.
This weekend, went to historic Ellicot city, and Patapsco State Park.

Yeah. Maybe more later.

I always thought it rather one-sided how history teachers always present the Persian Wars as freedom's war against oppression and cruelty.

From Plutarch's Lives of Themistocles, as translated by John Dryden:

When Themistocles was about to sacrifice, close to the admiral's galley, there were three prisoners brought to him, fine looking men, and richly dressed in ornamented clothing and gold, said to be the children of Artayctes and Sandauce, sister to Xerxes. As soon as the prophet Euphrantides saw them, and observed that at the same time the fire blazed out from the offerings with a more than ordinary flame, and a man sneezed on the right, which was an intimation of a fortunate event, he took Themistocles by the hand, and bade him consecrate the three young men for sacrifice, and offer them up with prayers for victory to Bacchus the Devourer; so should the Greeks not only save themselves, but also obtain victory. Themistocles was much disturbed at this strange and terrible prophecy, but the common people, who in any difficult crisis and great exigency ever look for relief rather to strange and extravagant than to reasonable means, calling upon Bacchus with one voice, led the captives to the altar, and compelled the execution of the sacrifice as the prophet had commanded. This is reported by Phanias the Lesbian, a philosopher well read in history.

DOG EATS COMATOSE WOMAN'S FOOT

By Jeff Wilson
Associated Press Writer
Tuesday, November 18, 1997; 6:47 a.m. EST

LOS ANGELES (AP) -- A dog slipped through a pet
door and chewed off the foot of a woman who has been
in a coma for several years, prompting a police search
for the animal amid concern over rabies.

Doctors amputated what was left of the woman's right
foot Monday as police hunted for the large black dog,
possibly a Rottweiler. The woman's mother chased it
away Sunday morning after seeing it gnawing on her
daughter.

"The mother just happened to walk in the bedroom
and saw this and screamed," Lt. Joe Hiltner said. The
victim has been in a deep coma since a horse-riding
accident several years ago.

Police did not release the name of the woman, who is
in her 30s. She was in stable condition after the
amputation just above her ankle, said Jennifer Bruce,
spokeswoman for Providence Holy Cross Medical
Center.

It was unclear whether the victim was aware of the
attack.

"Her eyes are open, she's just not very responsive," Ms.
Bruce said. "At times she grimaces like she is in pain."

Authorities say it will be difficult to find the dog
because there are many strays and pets running loose in
the rural neighborhood 15 miles north of downtown
Los Angeles.

"We want to find it and quarantine it to make sure it
doesn't have rabies," Animal Control spokesman Peter
Persic said. "We also want to find out if it had
aggressive behavior and could attack someone else or
even a child."

Animal control officers suggested the dog entered the
home because it was attracted by another dog inside.

It Sounded Like a Good Idea at the Time

Well, for my midterm assignment for Archaeology of Ancient Trade, I had to write a paper from the perspective of one person involved in ancient trade. Being that I had gotten three hours of sleep the night before (thanks a lot, daylight savings time! grrr.. and World of Warcraft) I thought it a great idea at the time to write this paper from the perspective of a pirate. An ancient Greek pirate.

"O Muses sing in me o' how I plundered th' Athenian galleon! Yar, matey!! Shiver me timbers! Thar be scurvy hoplites on yon trireme, sailin' th' wine dark sea! Avast! Thar be Persian silver buried here! Zeus give me strength from Olympus!!"

I think I have written the first academic paper ever completely in "pirate-speak."

He's BACK!

For those of you who were in Mr. Thomas' history class with me in eleventh grade, you might find this amusing.

Alcibiades - History for Kids!

Alcibiades was born in Athens around 450 BC. His mother was an Alcmaeonid. He was from one of the wealthiest families in Athens, and he grew up with the best of everything. After his father was killed in battle, Pericles, another Alcmaeonid, was Alcibiades' guardian. When he was a teenager, during the early years of the Peloponnesian War, he was a student¹ of Socrates.

By the time Alcibiades grew up, Athens was beginning to lose the Peloponnesian War. Alcibiades became a very good general. The Sicilian Expedition was his idea.

But when he got in trouble with the Athenians over the question of who smashed the good-luck statues², he ended up running away from Athens to Sparta in the middle of the night.

When Alcibiades got to Sparta, he made a deal with the Spartans. If they would let him stay in Sparta, he would help them win the Peloponnesian War by giving them good advice. They agreed, and the first thing Alcibiades told the Spartans was that they should build a navy and use it to destroy the Sicilian Expedition.

When this plan worked, the Spartans thought Alcibiades was really smart. He also advised them to lay a permanent siege to Athens, instead of only in the summertime. That worked too. But after a while, Alcibiades got into trouble in Sparta, too. People said he had been kissing³ the wife of one of the Spartan kings. He had to leave Sparta quickly.

This time Alcibiades fled to Persia. The Persian satrap (ruler) of Anatolia (modern Turkey) let him stay there, and now Alcibiades gave the Persians good advice about how to manage the Peloponnesian War.

Near the end of the Peloponnesian War, the Athenians were so desperate that they let Alcibiades come back as their general. But in the end, they fired him again, and he went back to Persia, where he was killed⁴ in 404 BC, just as the war was ending.

1... and by "student of Socrates" they mean "fucktoy." Talk about Socrates "corrupting the youth"....
2... and by "smashed the good-luck statues" they mean, "castrated various statues of Hermes which consisted solely of 1) a head and 2) an erect penis."
3... and by "kissing" they mean "conceiving illegitimate children with."
4... and by "killed" they mean "shot through by arrows as he was running completely naked from a burning house, after having had sex with his assassins' sister."

THE END.

I have no idea who sent me this.

"Read and Learn!

Sometimes symptoms of a stroke are difficult to
identify. Unfortunately, the lack of awareness
spells disaster. The stroke victim may suffer brain damage
when people nearby fail to recognize the symptoms of
a stroke. Now doctors say a bystander can recognize a
stroke by asking three simple questions:


*Ask the individual to SMILE.
*Ask him or her to RAISE BOTH ARMS.
*Ask the person to SPEAK A SIMPLE SENTENCE
(Coherently) (ie. It is sunny out today)

If he or she has trouble with any of these tasks,
call 9-1-1 immediately and describe the symptoms to
the dispatcher.


After discovering that a group of non-medical
volunteers could identify facial weakness, arm
weakness and speech problems, researchers urged the
general public to learn the three questions. They
presented their conclusions at the American Stroke
Association's annual meeting last February.
Widespread use of this test could result in prompt
diagnosis and treatment of the stroke and prevent
brain damage."

In Like Flynn

I saw Errol Flynn's Robin Hood yesterday. For those of you who don't know, Errol Flynn is the hottest man alive*. He is sex on legs. He has a reputation for being a pervert, which is fine with me. He's allowed to be a pervert. He's Errol Fucking Flynn. Orlando Bloom has often been called the next Errol Flynn. No. Blasphemy. Errol Flynn is the next Errol Flynn. Errol Flynn could spank Orlando Bloom until he cried for mommy, and then when she showed up, he'd fuck her. Because Flynn is just that badass. And his thighs... (oh lord!)

..Ahem.

You all should see this movie. It's hilarious. And by hilarious I mean hilariously bad. It has atrocious music in mono and ridiculously flamboyant costumes made out of crushed velvet and metallic fabrics. Actors being hit by arrows have this comical delayed reaction before they fall over. The fencing is hammy. Marion is whiny. The love scenes are best scene-selected through. In general, it feels like you're watching somebody's LARP. I'm not a man, but if I wanted a gay sidekick, I'd have to go with a lute-playing bard who runs around in red tights and a cape.

"Will Scarlet of the Merry Men" also makes a magnificent porn name...

Ahem!

Another thing is, while the portrayals of all the characters are pretty much black and white (not literally- the film is in "Technicolor!") I can't but feel sorry for the villain, Sir Guy. If I opened the door on my fiance's maidenly bower to find her being shagged stupid by a forest brigand, I'd be pretty damn pissed too. Conversely, Robin Hood has a creepy, predatory vibe. Never mind that Marion is as stupid as a rock ("Oh look, I've been abducted by a renegade outlaw and fifty sweaty men, this isn't creepy at all") and develops a severe case of Stockholm's Syndrome ("I'm your hostage. I want you so bad. Do me now.") I get the impression that Robin Hood is a man who beats and humiliates clergy, inflicts stark terror upon many an innocent traveler, incites mobs to their worst and most bestial behavior, and toys with women like a cat with mice. Robin Hood may be a good man, but the fact that he is chaotic, unpredictable, lawless, and desperate makes him a force to be feared, like any other lord of armed men. His cheerfulness is precisely what makes him cruel- oh, let's laugh while we kill people. He may be popular and brave and charismatic, but you know, still cruel, in the end. It doesn't make him any less interesting or attractive, but it's something to keep in mind.

Wit and charm is one of the things I miss in modern action heroes. I miss Errol Flynn's silver voice, his measured inflection and its timbre. Modern action heroes, to achieve this thing known as "psychological realism," come in two flavors- Brood and Sulk. If you're lucky, they may also come in Angst and Whine. Not so our Robin. He's eloquent, articulate, smooth like water over silk. Between smiting the unjust and harassing the clergy, Errol Flynn seduces the ladies and taunts the knights, makes witty conversations and flashy entrances. He feasts, carouses, and swaggers around Sherwood forest with a giant deer carcass strapped to his back. No other hero does this. (Except for Viggo Mortensen, and Viggo Mortensen is a hippie.) If abstract traits can be concretely embodied, Errol Flynn is a towering pillar of charisma, charisma in its Platonic form, its elemental state. If there were monuments to charisma like those to liberty, a four hundred foot tall statue of Errol Flynn would grace New York harbor, possibly exposing itself to greater Manhattan. That, beyond any physical manifestation, is what Errol Flynn is.

... Not that it hurts. He wears a lace-up collar partway undone. Under it I see his glorious tanned neck, the rise of his Adam's apple, the hollow of his throat, his broad, manly chest...

...Ahem.

I digress.

*by alive I mean dead.

Pictures: (all captions are mine, of course)

"Hey, crazy lady, your husband's like RIGHT OUTSIDE!"

"I'm suspended fifty feet in the air above shark infested waters. This is a great time to take a picture!"

"I can get away with wearing a polka-dotted tie. Why? Because I'm Errol Flynn!"

"I'm badass"

".. I'm only thinking pious thoughts, hm?.."

"This is my son. He's hot."

"This is my grandson. He's also hot. Where do you think they get it from? Me. Because I'm Erol Flynn."

Minor Inconveniences

ah...

...gastro-intestinal bleeding.

I think this is God's punishment for laughing at Jose's crotch fungus.

I'm B positive. If you ever read video game manuals, many times you'll see characters with their blood types listed. Apparently in Japan your blood type is kind of like the equivalent of your horoscope; it tells a lot about your personality. I wonder what mine says about me.

Anyway, I gave blood on Friday. That was pretty fun. I spent the whole time laughing and cracking jokes with the Red Cross volunteers, even though I'm generally not very social. Awkward situations just make for good jokes. For some reason it was hilarious how my blood went squirt into a tiny bag. It just reminded me of those Caprisun fruit punch pouches. And Vampire the Masquerade. (Argh, my blood points!)

If I could do it more often, I would.

Surprisingly, a lot of people didn't know about it. Check up with the Red Cross, eh? You never know when your local vampire van will be coming by.

Sequel

.... so then my roommate's ex-boyfriend decided to have a nightcap consisting of six sleeping pills and a bottle of wine.

Comedy of Tragedies

... over winter break, back in January, me and Malex went to visit Nick up at Vassar in Poughkeepsie, NY for a weekend. Apparently neither me, Malex, nor Nick felt this blog-worthy, or just didn't bother. Me and Malex spent the four hour Greyhound ride each way holding awkwardsilence-free conversation, which is amazing considering we don't actually hold any sort of affinity towards each other. Possibly the most memorable thing about the commute was the commuter rail trip up from Grand Central Station (according to Malex, the biggest room in the world) along the Hudson, a grey frozen river and bare stark woods that climb up snowy hills. New England is an entity in itself, never mind that New York isn't technically New England.

When we took the taxi from the station into Vassar, we nearly wet ourselves when the cab drove through what was essentially a portcullis in the Vassar gatehouse. Nick lives at Hogwarts. For example: their library is a gothic cathedral. No shittin'.

I spent maybe the rest of the time being snowed under, deprived of natural light, depressed and re-evaluating my college choice. If the campus made me re-evaluate, the dorms made me re-evaluate the re-evaluating, being cramped cells from the sixties with flaking drywall. Bathrooms are co-ed, dimly lit (if not pitch black even during day time) stalls and showers. Strangely enough though, I found myself completely indifferent to random boys walking by as I brushed my teeth. Nick himself has apparently descended into madness, overworked and antisocial, dealing with an array of family and health problems, and for some reason known only to God has decided to switch his major to computer science.

"I took a few programming classes in high school," explains Nick who in those four years made his mark as an actor, a writer, a poet, a linguist, a political activist and an amateur psychologist. This in Non-Bullshit-ese means, "I hate my life but it's a Practical Major."

---

... and so my roommate broke up with her boyfriend, ODed on Tylenol, and is trying to develop the habit of eating, Kay's mom and my aunt have breast cancer, and Chris went all Vanyel on us by coming out of the closet, having father-and-alienation issues, hating his brother and cutting himself.

How are you?

Updates from Me

I'm on break. You knew that. Christmas was alright. Spent with the family at Stella's new house, which is surprisingly close to ours. Nathan is looking a lot better now and no longer has red rashes on his face, but he still looks fearful whenever he sees me. He doesn't do that with anyone else, just me. Even though they aren't terribly rational creatures, it still is a bit depressing to have a baby be scared of you.

Have finished the Da Vinci Code, which Stella gave me for Christmas. The writing is sucky but the plot is at least interesting, even if the 'riddles' are ludicrously easy. As for the 'big secret,' I don't give a damn either way.

Went out to Annapolis for New Years with Jeremy, for Annapolis' 'First Night,' a non-profit non-alcoholic set of New Year's Eve events. Basically, different public places in Annapolis, such as churches and schools, had performers scheduled to put on something every half an hour. It took approximately fifteen minutes to get from one site to another, so at best each performance we actually attended would be interspersed by another half hour of dead time consumed by walking/ waiting in line. And since many of the places were overcrowded, if you didn't get there within twenty minutes of the show starting the auditorium would be full, so you'd have to find another place to go, and that would eat up a whole hour. The performances themselves weren't spectacular. We listened to a calming, haunting, and aesthetically impressive, if not very exciting performance on Native American flute, saw a pretty stale comedy show and attended a jazz concert, the exuberant talent of which was muted by the presence of a non-smoky, fully lit room of unmoving middle-aged white people.

Which is not to say I didn't have fun. What really entertained me more than all the performances put together was the mad scavenger hunt nature of rushing from point A to point B, and having the whole of East Annapolis as your playground. Annapolis has 35,000 residents, as of the year 2000. Compare: Rockville has 47,000, and she's only a county seat. Annapolis is clearly not a booming metropolis. It is, however, capable of spawning twisty alleys, brick roads, colonial houses and taverns, knicknacky handicrafts shops, eye-boggling confectionaries, old style ice cream parlors, infinite varieties of small and cozy bookstore-coffeehouse hybrids, and everything strewn with wreaths, banners and Christmas lights. Add to that the domed State House, the governor's mansion, St. Anne's Church, and the meticulously manicured complex of the Naval Academy within its dignified walls (Hell to live in, but majestic to look at). Annapolis also hosts Maryland's Republican headquarters, being ritzy and upscale in a Georgetown kind of way. Across the street is the Christian Science Reading Room, but I don't want to think about that.

Strange story, this: One of the men at the Naval Academy called me 'ma'am.' That was weird. I've never been called ma'am by anyone.

Around midnight Jeremy and I thronged towards the city docks which were cordoned off by city fire and police, where everyone was gathered, oogling the sexual tension between the scantily-clad fire-eaters, or posing for photos in front of the state Christmas tree, calling home excitedly on cells, setting off sparklers and firecrackers, tooting on noisemakers, grabbing at balloons, crowding to get into the plethora of "Irish," floor-shaking-subwoofer pubs, and popping open bottles of champagne under black lights and disco balls on board of moored boats-turned-floating party platforms. Following a procession of bagpipers, firedancers, clowns, and partygoers, someone important up ahead gave a speech, and at eleven fifty-nine, although there was no clock and no ball, from up ahead the chant picked up at... 8...7....6... the chant spread out quickly through the crowd as they realized what was going on, and at zero, several thousand people all released their balloons at the same time, and some fairly generic fireworks exploded out over the water.

2^24036583-1 is now the largest known prime. Hurrah!