"Sweetie Pie" -- Techno-fied!

What if "Sweetie Pie" were given a standard, really bad techno remix? Here's a taste.

The scary thing is, I think something like this would really be a hit at a rave. Pass the ecstasy!

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On the Job!

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Hit and Run: The Harry Potter Complex

Not an attempt to win an Oscar, just a simple means to scratch a creative itch.

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"Sweetie Pie"

As a follow up to the Neil Diamond post, I just wanted everyone to be able to hear the tune to the lyrics of "Sweetie Pie," written by a very young Shark. If I ever get a hold of the original recording, I will digitize it and post it as well.

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My New Resume

It definitely stands out. What do you think?

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The Closest I'll Ever Get to a Video Journal

A surprising turn of events:



(Really I'm just playing with some ideas I have and wanted to see how Blogger's video tool works. Or is it really as simple as I would have you believe?)

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Dreams: Stacy Keach and Wannabe Mariachis

Last night I had a dream that JKC, Cabeza and I were sitting in a car together, watching three middle-aged Mexican guys walk down the street, from bar to bar, looking for work as players in a mariachi band.

Quite suddenly, the car door flies open and we find none other than Stacy Keach glaring inside. He then starts yelling at us, telling us that we're interfering in an investigation he and his team are conducting in regards to those three Mexicans.

We all sit there, gazing at him in speechless bewilderment, when he gets even more up close and personal -- right up in my grill -- and starts jabbing his finger at my shoulder, still telling us off. What I'm trying not to convey at this point is that his constant jabbings are actually starting to tickle me.

I manage to hold it in, until it reaches a breaking point when his index finger comes into contact with my belly, at which point I let out a Pillsbury Dough Boy-esque "teehee!" At this, Stacy pauses and stares at me curiously. He prods me again, forcing another giggle, and after thinking for a moment he proceeds to deliver an all-out tickle with all the fingers on that hand, located entirely on my stomach.

There was more to this dream, as I remember waking up and thinking that I would want to make sure I mentioned "both" celebrities in my blog, but that's all I remember.

Analysis:
I can be a pretty ticklish guy sometimes, which may explain the one point. And lately I've had moments where I've missed having JKC as a roommate, so that would explain the other. The three Mexicans may come from the fact that I live in "Little Mexico" and see Mexican guys walking around the street all the time. But Stacy Keach (watch the clip from about 10:07 to 10:30)? I haven't even thought about him OR any of his work in some time. He's by far the most random factor in this dream.

Conclusion:
It's too bad I can't make a film of this. I'm pretty sure Stacy Keach would be out of my budget.

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Speaking of Film Festivals

My last post reminded me of a short film festival hosted by Clone High, the fictional cartoon high school that was the title figure of a short-lived, yet hilarious, show on MTV.



The show had an off-color joke here and there (how could you not when some of the most popular kids at the school are JFK's clone and an over-sexed clone of Cleopatra?), but overall I'm sad that it was never picked up for a second season.

Another delightful moment: George Washington Carver's clone introducing himself.



Finally, I think Mitt Romney would have greater success in his campaign if he had more ads like this:

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From "Somewhere in Time" to "Rock-A-Doodle": What's Next?

This film gets a point for casting Chris Plummer, who won our hearts in "The Sound of Music" as the Von Trapp father and in "Star Trek VI: The Undiscovered Country" as the Shakespeare-quoting Klingon General Chang.

On the other hand, the film gets minus two points for depicting a kid getting bullied around by some tough film nerds. I just have a hard time picturing any scenario in which a group of snooty jocks pin a classmate to a locker and make threats regarding his entry in a film festival. Most jocks I knew in high school were too concerned with underage drinking and popularity to care about the arts.

In any case, the trailer does pique my curiosity. What will its theme be? Redemption through filmmaking (the elderly rediscovering themselves as they help the young reach their potential)? What it takes to be a sincere artist (the line where Plummer chides the kid for being wishy-washy about his story - "A director has to KNOW!")? Selling out vs. creativity?

One of my concerns is that maybe this story has been done already in recent years. I just hope that Plummer doesn't try his hand at ebonics.

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Youth is Wasted on the Old

I just had one of those moments where I wondered what the heck my parents were thinking.

Kids are malleable, both physically and meta-, and can be taught pretty much anything. This is proven by the fact that children can pick up foreign languages very quickly up until adolescence, right? If there is any doubt in your mind at all as to the ability for a child to effectively retain vast amounts of information, I present myself as an exhibit, to be presented... right... now.

My parents could have had me in training to be a linguist, a scriptorian, or heck, even a geographer, like my friend Bryce's two-year-old niece. But no, I was given a different gift, which isn't quite as handy but perhaps, at times, more entertaining.

I learned the lyrics to Neil Diamond songs.

I don't remember how exactly I fell into this path. All I know is that my mom owned some Neil Diamond tapes, namely "The Jazz Singer" soundtrack, "Headed for the Future," and a couple of his "Greatest Hits" albums, and somehow I got hooked. I listened to him running errands with my mom, on road trips, doing chores, or just plain sitting around.

I was THREE-YEARS-OLD when I started strutting around the house singing at the top of my lungs, "Baby, tonight by the fire- all alone, you and I!" I knew not of the real, lusty meaning of what I sang, I just sang it. And I did it hard core, because I lived hard core.

All those songs I sang along to are still imbedded in my memory, even ones I haven't heard in at least seven years, maybe even a decade. Part of me feels at home when the '80s Neil starts playing on my Launchcast station. Songs like "Robert E. Lee" or "Hello Again" are like this oddly-comfortably blanket of nostalgia for me. And whenever I think about my past dating experiences, it's not very long before I think to myself, "Love on the rocks, Shark. It ain't no big surprise."

Of course, all this influence inspired me to begin writing music at a young age. Somewhere in a box we have an audio recording of 6-year-old Shark singing his first attempt at being a pop star:

"Oh my sweetie pie,
I want you to be my sweetie pie!
I've been gone
for three weeks!"

And that, in essence, is what makes me the Shark.

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Music!! AAAAAH!!!!

Look at the new player I added to the page! Thanks to JKC for the inspiration. I plan on sharing good-yet-lesser-known songs from already-popular and relatively-hidden artists alike. Except for "White and Nerdy," which is just a delightful treat. If you haven't seen the music video already, please, go google it.

But seriously, I am proud of some of the discoveries I've made in the past couple of years, and I want to share them with everyone I know. Mika is becoming a pretty popular artist already, but seeing as how I just discovered him I thought there would certainly be others who haven't been exposed.

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Out of the Norm

Usually I reserve my website announcements for my site's official blog, but I thought I'd make an exception to announce the posting of four new videos, one of which being the sequel to the oh-so-famous "Unibrow, Inc."

www.TheSharkByte.com

Go for it! (Connect four!)

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Randomness

-Some of what I think are the most solidly-made films in the last couple of years: "The Prestige," "The Lion, the Witch, and the Wardrobe," "V for Vendetta"

-I really miss the Deardens.

-I really want a big desk. Preferably an L-shaped one that is plenty deep and not overly-cluttered with drawers (so as to not impose on my leg room), and probably without a hutch. I like big workspaces, but I don't want to feel like my desk is taking over my room.

-"The Lion King" is a powerful movie. I don't understand people who don't like it. Excellent message, a good mix of drama and comedy, great animation, and one of the best movie soundtracks ever made (and I don't just mean the singing parts).

-Adults don't know how to have fun.

-I really do think it's weird that so many of my friends are getting engaged now that I've left Utah.

-I fully support the WGA in their strike. Maybe I'm shooting myself in the foot with the chances that DVD and movie tickiet prices may rise after all is said and done, but the WGA makes some good arguments.

-Speaking of movie soundtracks, the "Superman Returns" soundtrack is excellent! It's playing on my Launchcast station right now. Since I bought the DVD, I've only watched the special features, and not the film itself. That might have to change sometime soon, though I'd really like being able to watch it on a bigger screen/projector.

-"Wha' happened?"

-I live in Little Mexico, and I love it.

-I think it would be fun to develop a story about a guy with the ability to bend time, but in physical pockets of space (for example, if he wants to move time forward, everything within a ten foot radius of himself ages or de-ages while everything outside of those boundaries remains the same; he has no control over this physical limit). I just need to figure out the ins and outs of his persona and give him a challenge.

-How do people feel satisfied at the end of the day when they have jobs that aren't goal-oriented? How do they measure the success of the day's activities?

-Have you ever tried imagining a color that isn't on the spectrum as we know it? It's kind of a trippy experience, though I can't honestly say I've really pictured one. Letting your brain wrap around that whole concept is sort of fun, though.

-I went to an institute class last night that felt like I was back in seminary. There were only six of us in the class, and one of the guys really enjoyed hearing himself speak even though he didn't have much to contribute to the discussion. What was the topic for the last twenty minutes of class? Whether or not God is a happy person. ...

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Hilary Duff

Is she for reals???

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Imagination

I am known to have strange dreams.

Perhaps the most famous one comes from my young childhood, in which I discover that the entire student body of my elementary school has turned into scrambled eggs, still popping and sizzling at the bottom of my bath tub, of all places. I can still remember hearing distinct, tiny voices squealing up to my ears, begging for help. Despite the immense pressure of having so many fates in my hands, I do the most logical thing: I turn on the water. Suddenly everyone grows back to their human selves and exits the bathroom single file. When I woke up and told my mom about this the next day, wondering if I should be disturbed, her attempt at consolation was praising me for being a hero. But really, when a parent is handed something like that, what else could you expect them to say?

I still have odd dreams like that from time to time, though with age I feel that they are less frequent and more difficult to remember. I used to have flying dreams quite often. In fact, there was one so detailed that I could literally feel the strong, cool air blasting every part of my body while I flew alongside a bird through royal blue skies and large, misty clouds. In perhaps one of my most ingenious dream-moments ever, I maintained my flying direction while doing 360's around the bird, looking at it from every possible angle as we soared together.

Somewhere in my early teens I gained the ability to realize that I was dreaming without waking myself up. This totally turned the tables during nightmares, as I could now forcibly end dreams on a high note. Usually if I found myself being chased by someone out to get me (once my own brother Scott was after my life) I would make a motion with my arms and legs as if I were performing an elementary backstroke, but standing up, and that's how I would get off the ground. Once I was high enough, I could move with much less dramatic motions, like Superman.

There was another time that I found myself on the run from a group of villains in an SUV who were trying to run me down in an underground parking garage. In one helpless moment I realized what state of mind I was in and decided that super speed was definitely the best option in the given scenario, and immediately the tides were entirely in my favor.

What happened? Why does growing up involve the tainting of my dreams so that my subconscious is so heavily influenced by real-life experiences? Last week I was somewhat disappointed in the fact that my most interesting dream involved going out with Jenna Fischer (Pam on "The Office"), and I strongly dislike the realistic dreams I've been having that involve my recent ex-girlfriend. Give me the simplicity of nights past where the melodramatic tales of fantasy overtake my mind and invite me to a new dimension where I can explore at my own leisure.

I don't know. Maybe I should get back into comic books.

I miss those dreams. They were a gateway into my creative mind that I feel has been locked up in storage. I've spent the last month trying to use my spare time to imagine new stories to tell through various media I'm interested in (writing, drawing, and filmmaking) and nothing remotely solid is coming up. I think there is a connection here, representing a mental block I've developed over the last few years. Maybe I am subconsciously too worried about what other people think of me and my personality. I often run into people who think my random topics of conversation are a little outrageous, and I feel like I do a good job of not caring, but maybe it's not as simple as I tell myself it is.

I'm proud of who I am and how I think. I like how I am a conservative person with a passion for creativity and art. I feel like I have a good grasp on understanding the beauty of the arts without losing my grasp on traditional values and mindsets that maintain my right-wing stance on many issues. I like that because I feel like it enables me to be open-minded and empathetic with many schools of thought and see people as layers of life experiences and backgrounds as opposed to giving in to first-impressioned labels. I feel like I can strongly believe something and know it is right without feeling like everyone else is stupid or otherwise lacking for feeling otherwise. I give a lot of credit to my imagination and think that, in the end, it is a Christlike attribute to have.

I want it back to its full capacity.

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Shark Pinup Calendar 2008

Some previews of March and July from next year's calendar. We're going for a tropical theme this year.

You think I'm wearing a t-shirt. Let's just say there's a reason why photos like the following stand out as centerfold options.

If we can squeeze in some time in the next few weeks we'll go for an off-the-wall option, but I won't be looking forward to the long days in the studio. Keeping your skin oiled up for long periods of time makes your pores suffocate.

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I just need to post this.

I didn't make it, but here it is:


That is all.

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Cow Time Thoughts: Growing Facial Hair (as opposed to cutting and pasting)

This website is loaded with instructions on growing facial hair and the different styles that are out there, including:
As opposed to the UNfriendly mutton chop:

While we're on the subject of cow time, I'm wondering if anyone out there can tell me whence this phrase originates. I've been using it ever since I was a boy scout at age 11. My brother-in-law, who is from Utah, has been using it since '95 even though our paths didn't cross until '99 or so. Meanwhile, J. Bod claims to have invented the phrase as a young man. What is the true origin of the phrase "cow time"? I am determined to find out.

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On a More Serious Note...

I'm in a more pensive mood this evening than usual. I had an itch to blog something, but right now I can't come up with any sort of attempt at being witty because I'm too contemplative, partially due to some current events in my life (every part of my existence is at a crossroads, it seems), and partially due to my re-discovery of a good friend's blog.

So, if you are in the mood for a religion paper I wrote over a year ago (in Ray Lynn's OT class - one of the most insightful courses I took at BYU), extend this very-extendable entry. It's not amazing writing by any means, but it has some thoughts of mine that I'm so glad I got down on "paper" - because it is helping me look at my life again in a different way.

Oh, and there are typos. Sorry.

"What important doctrines, teachings, or concepts can we learn from the bad people of Genesis or Exodus?"



When we read about the wickedness of the many evil men in the scriptures, we tend to abhor their actions and take relief when we read that justice is served and their inevitable comeuppance has arrived. However, in our search for swift justice upon the wicked we sometimes forget a very important attribute that also belongs to the Lord: that of endless mercy. While the principle is true that mercy cannot rob justice, the Old Testament makes it clear that the Lord shows mercy even when it is completely undeserved, and even some of the most wicked people are recipients of this display of God’s love.
The first example of this that we can chronologically find in the canonical scriptures is in the fifth chapter of Moses, in which Cain offers an unworthy sacrifice to the Lord in the form of vegetation, and when he is wroth for the rejection, the Lord teaches him:

If thou doest well, thou shalt be accepted. And if thou doest not well, sin lieth at the door, and Satan desireth to have thee; and except thou shalt hearken unto my commandments, I will deliver thee up, and it shall be unto thee according to his desire. (Moses 5:23)

This is an act of mercy in that, rather than letting Cain fend for himself and learn the hard way without any other options, he is given a second chance and God makes sure that the understands what his options are. He is promised blessings for obedience and curses for sin, an act of God that shows his desire for Cain to do what’s right and someday return to Him.
However, in the fourth chapter of Genesis Cain ignores the Lord’s words and slays his brother Abel in an act of jealousy, selfishness, and secrecy. When Cain is confronted by the Lord for this grievous sin, he is told that “thou art cursed from the earth, which hath opened her mouth to receive thy brother’s blood from thy hand … a fugitive and a vagabond shalt thou be in the earth.” (Genesis 4:11-12)
Cain immediately becomes rather worried about this curse from God, and expresses his concern to the Lord:

Behold, thou hast driven me out this day from the face of the earth; and from they face shall I be hid; and I shall be a fugitive and a vagabond in the earth; and it shall come to pass, that every one that findeth me shall slay me. (Genesis 4: 14)

His fear of being killed is understandable. He’s committed a great crime that will surely become widely known due to its nature and the fact that it’s the first time that cold-blooded murder has been introduced to the world. We may even think he deserves whatever may come to him, even if one who was to find him and remember his evil act kills him.
However, the Lord in his infinite mercy adds a second part to the curse:

Therefore whosoever slayeth Cain, vengeance shall be taken on him sevenfold. And the Lord set a mark upon Cain, lest any finding him should kill him. (Genesis 4:15)

Cain is promised that mankind will be instructed to not deal out their angers upon Cain by murdering him. To ensure this protection, a mark is placed upon Cain as a warning label to all those who see him that he is not to be dealt with in such a manner.
It’s interesting that, even though Cain has just committed a terrible sin, his pleas are still heard and answered according to the Lord’s will. Justice would demand that Cain be killed in like manner, but the Lord hears Cain’s concerns and responds. Although this may have been a form of punishment in that Cain could not end his temporal torments by being murdered, it is nonetheless clear that this was in response to Cain’s desire to not be slain, and that the Lord granted his wish in an effort to teach him.
It is awe-inspiring to consider the fact that the Lord has shown so much love and mercy to a man so wicked and ignorant of what’s right. In comparing Cain’s situation to our own (which is hopefully less extreme), we should be able to see a little more clearly what mercies Heavenly Father has shown us when we are undeserving and understand His plan for us a little better. Justice cannot be denied, but the Lord still loves His children.

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Now You See It #1

I got a digital camera as a graduation gift and I want to make use of it for the blog. I have a couple rough ideas, one of them being that I just post an image and let the comments fly and turn into a discussion about what meaning can be evoked, or simply an opportunity to have a laugh. So... here is the first installment of what I just randomly decided to call "Now You See It." Let the comments begin!

(P.S. I probably won't comment until other comments are made first. For photos that I have something specific to say, I'll usually use them in a different format than this.)

(P.P.S. CLICK ON THE IMAGE TO MAKE IT LARGER before making any comments.)

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Spotlights Will Agree I Am the Show You've Got to See

Since my mission I've discovered the joy of going to concerts at smaller venues where lesser-known bands circulate and seek exposure through younger audiences. There's a good feeling inside that comes when you really enjoy a song or band that isn't mainstream. It's like you realize that you aren't selling out to what everyone else likes -- you are enjoying something original.

The first band that was like this for me was my old roommates' ska band Button Hooked, which is unfortunately disbanded now. I have a couple videos of their stuff on my website, thesharkbyte.com. Their music was not only fun, but it was purely based on life experiences they'd had. The attraction in some of their songs was in knowing the people and back story to them ("Danny is the One for the Having of the Selling Out," for example, is about our other old roommate Danny who wouldn't join their band), while in others it was the ability to relate to their realistic lyrics ("9 Years," a song about a guy who puts his heart on the line with a girl after being her friend for 9 years and, after being rejected, admits that he can never be just friends again). There were also slams made against other bands, like the Provo-local Matt Lewis Band (I think they suck).

The next band I discovered was thanks to the same roommates, another ska group from Southern California called Suburban Legends. Their membership has changed a bit over the last couple years, and their sound has turned more disco, but their concerts are still a riot and they tour quite a bit. They're also refreshingly clean, which is difficult to find in this genre sometimes, especially because ska really is all but dead. The most delightful part of their shows is the amazing choreography they use in their songs! In fact, when they are auditioning new band members, one of the requirements is that they are good dancers. They recently released a new album, and you can hear some of it on the page I linked to above. At the time of this writing I haven't actually listened to most of those samples, so I really can't say if it's any good. In any case, SL is a good fix for some fun rock with that horn influence.

It was at the last SL concert I went to in July that I discovered this other band from New Jersey, Jet Lag Gemini. I don't LOVE their stuff, but they have a couple songs that are a lot of fun. The first two sample songs you hear when going to their website are probably my favorites. "Run This City" is just an all-around great song and a lot of fun to drive to. At the show I picked up a free sample CD of their stuff which had that song included, and I've played it at least 50 times already in my car stereo. When I saw these guys in concert I had actually looked 'em up beforehand, so I expected to be entertained. I felt bad, however, that they didn't quite live up to my expectations. A lot of their music sounded the same and needed some refinement. Plus, only two of their members were really into the music (actually, the bass player was amazing to watch, not only for his playing skills but because he just went nuts on stage -- quite the performer). In their defense, the audience was lame (nobody was dancing or hardly even bobbing their heads up and down), and I felt bad for them as they had expressed that this was their first visit to Utah ever. I think we made a bad impression and I wouldn't be surprised if they never come back. But then again, that's what you get for catering to an audience loaded mostly with high schoolers.

On the other hand, there was another band that played awful music but really knew how to get the audience pumped. Throwing stuff at them, inviting them on stage, ordering them to run around and scream... It was chaos at times, but by golly they got a good response. It probably helped that they had a large man with a mohawk who commanded the microphone between songs. One of the more impressive moments was when the lead singer stepped out on top of the audience while they supported his feet with their hands. It must have taken amazing strength and coordination to keep himself upright, and he kept singing the entire time! Fantastic.

I guess, to me, rock music and concerts are the best when I can tell that the musicians are having the time of their lives on stage without resorting to f-bombs every other word. Suburban Legends and Button Hooked pull that off so well. A lot of the bands at the last SL tour were so mellow on stage that I felt like they hated being there, which may well have been the look they were going for, which to me leans more toward emo and less toward hard core rock. If you want to get your audience into your songs, you've got to get them energized. Barely moving while staring downward expresionlessly is poor showmanship in my book.


So yes, the obscure music world is a lot of fun, and I look forward to getting to know other bands out there with a lot of talent but, for whatever reason, not a lot of exposure.

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Cow Time Thoughts: Almost there...

It's almost 2:15 AM. Today (or, rather, yesterday) was my last day of classes EVER. I lucked out because my Bio 100 final got cancelled, so unless I totally bombed on the last midterm (which I don't think I did) I should have an A in that class, especially after having done 100 points' worth of extra credit!

My Border Spanish final is a take home exam. I'm almost 2/3 through it and should finish it when I wake up, assuming I ever fall asleep. That means that my only real final that I have to study for is Humanities 202, which I'm not too stressed about since I should have plenty of time tomorrow evening and all day Wednesday to study (it's not scheduled until Wednesday evening). After that, it's graduation time!

But why am I up so stinking late? Well, usually it would be because I've been goofing off or editing something. But tonight I've actually been trying to sleep for almost two hours. The neighbors have been keeping me awake. I actually called 9-1-1 a while ago because they were blasting some music really loudly (loud enough that it went through their walls, across two driveways, and through MY wall), but just as I got to the point where an officer was being dispatched they turned it off, so I told the dispatcher to forget it, and she gave me a non-emergency number to call next time...

[tangent]Which reminded me of an experience on my mission in Dallas that is the cause behind my calling 9-1-1 for non-emergency reasons. (There's actually an expanded post on this one!)It was my first area, and our next door neighbors were also our landlords. They had a bunch of kids and most of the family had gone on vacation, excepting the oldest at-home son, who had just graduated from high school. He was somewhat of a troublemaker -- nothing too horrible, but his parents were concerned about him. When they'd told us they were going out of town, one of the English elders jokingly asked the father if we could call the cops if he threw a party since he wasn't allowed to have more than one or two friends over. The father (who always looked like a caricatured version of most men to me) looked at him with a straight face and stated solemnly, "Yes. Yes, you can."

Sure enough, as soon as the family was out of town, that very first night, we were just getting to bed and looked out our windows to see our neighbors' backyard. What we beheld was more than mere apricot trees, unfortunately. There were kids drinking beer and smoking what appeared to be cigarettes. Probably around twenty, including the ones we could see inside the house through the kitchen windows. I was shocked that this kid not only would have the nerve to be so quick to disobey his parents, but that he would introduce drugs and alcohol to the temple his parents had worked so hard to keep pure from those influences.

I picked up the phone and looked through the phone book to find the local police station. I called them and told them that there were underage kids getting drunk next door. I figured this wasn't anything that required flashing lights and a siren, so I was quite surprised when the lady on the other end told me to hang up and dial 9-1-1 to have an officer dispatched. I did so and soon enough found myself talking to a policeman in his squad car just as he was pulling up to the house. I could see him through the window and said, "Yeah, you just passed it." I won't lie -- I was actually kind of excited to see this kid get busted.

Right when the cop gets to parking, we suddenly see kids frantically running EVERYwhere throughout the house! Some are dumping alcohol down the drain, others are stashing beer bottles under the sink, while five or six more are taking turns running into the bathroom, which tells me they were flushing something they didn't want to get caught with. Meanwhile, the son of our landlords would periodically cup his hands over his eyes and lean up against the kitchen window to see if he could tell that we were the cause of all of this. No dice, though -- we had the lights off and were watching between the slits of closed blinds. Even if he knew it had to be us, there was know way to verify it and be legitimately angry. We were laughing, though.

The cop simply broke up the party. He didn't even go inside, luckily for them. After everyone had left, the son came out onto the back porch and stood there, hands on his hips, staring up right at the window we were looking at him from. It was obvious he didn't know we were actually there, but he was hoping he was showing us that he wasn't happy.

The next day we were going out to an appointment and we happened to bump into him on our way out. He was much friendlier to us than usual, which was oddly funny. He offered us a ride to wherever we were going and after we refused he told us that if we needed anything to give him a call. "He doesn't want us to call his parents," I thought to myself.

When we came back for lunch I called his parents. And probably with the wrong intentions, though the kid had it coming either way. I just wanted to see him wriggle. His parents weren't happy, but they did okay. The kid ended up serving a mission and I have even run into him on campus before, though he doesn't remember who I am. He's a good guy, though. He was just a stupid teenager sometimes.

And that's why I call 9-1-1 when I need a cop, even if it's not an emergency. [/tangent]

But the girls next door started screaming ten minutes later in sporadic bursts. How can people stand being so loud that their neighbors can hear them through all that space and barrier between them? I don't know. I thought about calling the cops back but then decided not to since the girls are new to the area and aren't really LDS. I don't want them to feel alienated by their neighbors. Am I being a pushover? Probably. Meh.

Meanwhile, the job search continues...

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YouTubin': A Lesson in Ethics

I think YouTube is an interesting phenomenon. It creates a power of visual storytelling that almost anyone can access. The interactivity is a psychological breakthrough in that connections made through various videos provide the viewer interesting ways in which he can synthesize loads of new information handed to him in any myriad of combinations.

However, I wonder how the readers of my blog feel about YouTube, specifically its role as a foundation for a new sort of online community where people post video journals with their lives for all to see (although everyone is an actor since they are aware of the camera). I have always been against it for several reasons, perhaps the most prominent being the personal information that is so frequently and blindly given out through them. The internet is a twisted place, and YouTube is bound to be prime stalking grounds for predators.

And then there are people like this guy below, who seems to be addicted to YouTube to the point where it affects his behavior. In his defense, I think he is autistic or there is something else going on that isn't 100% apparent just by hearing what he has to say. In any case, he says some goofy things that would be easy to scoff at, but in the end I actually felt somewhat depressed by his post:

Is the empowerment of the individual on YouTube worth these sorts of videos, where a young man unwittingly exposes himself to the ridicule of those who misunderstand what's probably really going on? I skimmed through some of the comments and I just felt bad for the kid. Yes, some of the things he says are goofy, but the way he reacts to life experiences makes me feel like he needs better understanding from the audience, something that he doesn't seem to be aware of enough to address.

Anyways, just a thought on the ethics of exposing your personal life on the world wide web.

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My Beef (and Yours) with "The Simpsons"

"The Simpsons" was once a great show. It started off kind of rough, with an emphasis on Bart and only a handful of truly memorable episodes in the first two seasons. However, during season three the show really started taking off, focusing more on Homer as the central figure of the family

From then on out the show enjoyed a lengthy run where almost every episode was an instant classic. Even episodes that revolved around Lisa, the most boring member of the family, brought loads of laughter ("Lisa the Vegetarian," "Summer of 4 Ft. 2," and "Lisa the Iconoclast" immediately come to mind). In my opinion, seasons 3 through 8 were the good seasons, the hilarity tapering off somewhere in season 9. Some would even argue that the show completely jumped the shark when Maude Flanders got killed off in season 11, though that season still had a couple gems left up its sleeve, including the tomacco episode (funniest part of that clip begins around 06:48).

An excellent analysis of the decline of "The Simpsons" can be found here. I would add to the article that the show got much raunchier during its decline as well, one of the reasons I stopped watching.

Which brings me to the heart of my rant.

"The Simpsons" was very controversial when it first came out, because it was a type of humor that hadn't been done before. A country that waited with bated breath for TGIF on ABC every week mistakenly defined an animated show as entertainment for children, whereas "Simpsons" is geared towards a much older audience, with its witty humor and satire. Yes, Bart is a punk kid, but parents became so worried about him being a role model for their children that they labeled him as evil. Exaggerations were made on the show's reliance on flatulent humor, when in reality the show mocks alcoholism through characters like Barney Gumble, whose disgusting nature is a caricature of reality, a commentary on the disease of wine-bibbing.

I admit that even my parents banned us from the show for its first few years. It wasn't until we boys began watching it behind their backs that we became hooked, and eventually convinced them that the show really wasn't all that bad (though my mom still holds a grudge against it, understandably).

Perhaps what really chaps my hide in this subject is the fact that over a year ago I almost dated a girl whose major hangup with me was that I watch "The Simpsons." She had never seen a single episode and frowned upon me for enjoying it because she believed, based on what her parents had told her, that it was crass and inappropriate. No matter how many times I explained to her that the seasons I enjoy are actually very clean (even the episode in which Homer almost is tempted to have an affair with a coworker is handled tastefully), admitting that later seasons had gone down the tubes as far as morality goes, she couldn't get past the labels she'd been raised with. Perhaps what hurt the most is that her trust in an ignorant opinion of a TV show overshadowed her trust in my moral judgment.

I'm not saying that everyone should watch "The Simpsons." I'm not saying that I would let my little children watch it, either, as I feel like an understanding of satire and sarcasm is needed to comprehend certain notions (e.g. Bart's actions are not to be laughed at because we want to emulate them, rather they are to be laughed at because we are to understand the need to steer clear of them). What I AM saying, though, is that those of us who are still on a soap box preaching against this show (at least in any context that involves the first ten years of its airing) need to seriously reevaluate the entertainment they criticize when content found in shows like "Friends," "Scrubs," "Sex in the City," and even certain shows on Adult Swim is flooding our TV's, TiVos, and DVD collections with humor that distastefully mocks sacred topics and exploits sex for a cheap laugh.

Finally, if there's one more argument to be had for why this show deserves a look on a moral level, "The Simpsons" at least instills a moral system in its characters. Whatever you have heard or choose to believe, the Simpson family sticks together during their crises. Sure, Bart makes a selfish choice or Homer does something incredibly dumb to spark their troubles, but in the end the family loves each other and helps each other to overcome. Most episodes end with something morally valuable having been learned by the characters. Less can be said of many other popular television shows out there.

So next time I quote "The Simpsons" and you are tempted to look down on me, please take a second and decide if the cultural hobbyhorse of Simpsons nay-saying is really worth the saddle sores.

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Spanglish 101

I am amused today by the fact that I am taking Spanish 423 this summer (starting next week), and the title of the class is "Border Spanish"! I'm actually pretty excited for it.

And no, I won't be learning "how" to speak border Spanish, per se. If I'm not mistaken, it's more of a study of how border Spanish came to exist, how the English language has influenced Spanish over time. The class description suggests that the student take some sort of linguistics course before enrolling in this class. I took Spanish Phonetics & Pronunciation last semester, which I believe would qualify me.

I went and bought my books at the bookstore today, and was amused by the titles: "Cowboy Talk: A Dictionary of Spanish Terms from the American West" and "The Dictionary of Chicano Spanish." So one of them studies the Spanish influence on American language, while the other focuses on the English impact on Spanish speakers. I think that's sort of interesting, and I'm happy because they were both relatively cheap, and they are REFERENCE books, which hints that there may not be a lot of reading involved in this class!

I really am excited to take this class. Border Spanish cracks me up, and I think I will get a kick out of learning more about how "estacionar la camioneta" has turned into "parquear la troca."

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1960s Super Heroics at Their Best

My brother Scott and I went and saw "Fantastic Four: Rise of the Silver Surfer" on Saturday.

But before I get started, let me just say that the first "Fantastic Four" movie wasn't nearly as bad as a lot of people seemed to think. I mean, it certainly wasn't a GREAT movie by any means, but it stayed true to the feel of the comic book. How would you propose adapting a story about a family of superheroes who all get their powers at the same time from a cosmic cloud of radiation? It's impossible to stay somewhat true to the source material AND not be somewhat corny. My main problem with the first film was the act of giving Dr. Doom powers, because he doesn't have them in the comics. He's more of an evil mastermind than the brawler-type (see the last ten minutes of "Unbreakable" for a good explanation of the differences between these binaries).

"Rise of the Silver Surfer" surpassed its predecessor, probably in that it moved along a little faster -- but not TOO quickly. In the film medium it is common for #2's in sets of movies to be less enjoyable than the first ("Batman Returns," "Temple of Doom," "Back to the Future," etc.) with notable exceptions ("Spider-Man 2," "Toy Story 2," "Empire Strikes Back," etc.). Thankfully, "Surfer" breaks the mold!

Perhaps there isn't a lot of depth in Mr. Fantastic and the Invisible Woman. And perhaps their romance isn't entirely acceptable by the viewer. But the story is written in a way that their shallowness doesn't bother me whatsoever. Honestly, I am fine with their romance. The film doesn't attempt to tell us something about love, it attempts to give us a fun time, and it does.

I mean... What else could you do with a film that develops a story from a comic book based on a family of superheroes in a sequel that revolves around a silver man riding a surf board through space? I think sometimes we get a little carried away with wanting everything to fit into a modern pop-culture context, forgetting that a lot of the characters we'd like to see adapted for screen (whether from comics or not) are based on pop culture from decades ago and really only remain popular for their nostalgic value. Altering them drastically would cause uproar from the fans who wanted to see them in the first place, therefore the only solution is to adapt them as truly as possible.

I liked the interaction between Johnny Storm (the Human Torch) and Ben Grimm (the Thing). There is still tension in their relationship, but over the course of the movie you see the tension turn into more of a playful teasing as an underlying friendship is built. Johnny himself goes through some great character development as he learns to be less selfish and focus on teamwork, and his personal storyline culminates with the team's galaxy-sized dilemma in a pretty awesome brawl between him and Dr. Doom which had Scott and I cheering in the theater!

The Surfer himself is very well done. I am not an avid reader of the Fantastic Four by any means, and if I have read any comics with the Surfer actually in it, he has only had brief appearances. Thus I can make no substantial claim as to whether or not he was done "correctly," yet I was impressed and thought that his display of power and inner-dilemma was overall pretty good.

Galactus' representation in the movie was... well... actually, expected. Without giving TOO much away, I've got to defend the filmmakers in their decision. As corny as the Fantastic Four is, how much cornier would it have been to have a giant man looking to take a giant bite out of planet Earth? Has anyone here seen "Pirates 3" with the jumbo-Callipso? A super-sized Jamaican chick is bad enough. A man whose stature rivals that of the solar system would just look lame in a live action film (though I swear there are some brief moments when we catch glimpses of the shape of Galactus' helmet in the film, nods to the original material).

I do take issue with how quickly the threat was vanquished once Surfer became traitor to his master, and I do think the movie had its flaws, but this is the best summer movie I've seen so far this summer. Why? Because it doesn't try to be anything more than it is, and is still fun, with good action scenes, great CGI (with the exception of some Mr. Fantastic dance scenes at the beginning), and witty dialogue.

"Spider-Man 3" and "Pirates 3" were two films recently released that were disappointments in their efforts to tell so much story AND be entertaining/coherent. "Spider-Man" attempted to carry the same impact and characterization that the original two films did, and failed in spreading itself too thin and cramming too many major plotlines into 2.5 hours. Removing any one of the plot elements, while severely cutting down the soap opera between Peter and MJ, would have made the film so much better. "Pirates" was expectedly insane, and while it was better than #2, it certainly pales in comparison to its original, which was a contemporary take on a classic swashbuckling genre. These past two installments have been capitalist endeavors to milk the cow for all its worth, cramming in as much CGI and grand-scale stories as possible in order to draw in the masses.

Remind me later to discuss why I think a lot of pop culture films these days are reflective of the mentality of the rising generation. It's too big to become a tangent for a post.

Anyways, to make a long post summarized: go see "Rise of the Silver Surfer." It won't disappoint you, and it's much shorter than the other two movies I mentioned above!

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It's Such a Good Feeling

Mr. Rogers has influenced us all, whether directly or indirectly. I used to watch his program as a kid, as I'm sure many of you did, and his impact on children's programming has been incredible.

With this in mind, I share two videos from YouTube that I found that made me feel a little warm and fuzzy inside.

This first one is actually from the end of his career. One of the things I love about Fred Rogers is his ability to show his sincerity through a camera. He isn't acting -- he really does love me and you just the way we are! You can see it in his eyes and hear it in his voice.



This second video I first saw in one of my first film classes on the day of our final. Apparently it's an extra on one of the Mr. Rogers collection DVD's. I almost cried when I watched it, because it shows just how much Rogers loved the children he was trying to hard to reach out to. Below is a quote from Wikipedia, which sets up the video (I've cut out parts so as to allow the video to tell the story):

In 1969, Rogers appeared before the United States Senate Subcommittee on Communications. His goal was to support funding for PBS and the Corporation for Public Broadcasting, in response to significant proposed cuts. ...

The chairman of the subcommittee, John O. Pastore, was not previously familiar with Rogers' work, and was sometimes described as gruff and impatient...

Thanks, Mr. Rogers!!

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Cherokee People: The Downfall of Comics

I don't think the artist behind this image realized the

figurative meaning he unconsciously implied.
And no, it is not that Tupperware is good enough to
preserve even the heart of Green Lantern.
...
But really, who's to say that it isn't?

For those of you who don't know: I used to be a pretty big fan of comics. Don't get me wrong, I was never one of those guys who spent $300 a month at the local Dragon's Keep. At most I collected three titles on a regular basis, "The Flash" being the only consistent one over a period of 8 years or so.

I was a big enough fan that I made websites devoted to my favorite characters. My most prominent one, JLA Reborn, is still up, though dated and neglected. It focuses on DC Comics' powerhouse team of heroes, which, for a few years, also provided me with my favorite monthly title, "JLA." The coding of the site worked back when I made it 8 years ago, but now it looks ugly and definitely amateur. (As a sidenote, I even learned HTML and a bit of JavaScript in the process of making these -- something to put on the resume!)

When I spent two years away from comics (among many other things) in order to focus on doing missionary work among the Latinos of Dallas, I came back with a curiosity as to what had happened to my team in my absence. I saved up a bit of cash and eventually tracked down each issue I had missed (over 24 in total), and was admittedly excited to do some catching up. It all started off well and good enough, but in the end I was left somewhat stupified and disgusted with the writers who had so badly mistreated some of the most imaginative fictional characters of all time...

What ensues is my summary of the Justice League of America's downfall; my theory as to why it happened (hint: see the title of the post); and how this rude awakening has affected my spectatorship...

*Please note that neither the Shark, nor his calves, harbor any ill feelings toward Native Americans, nor does he really believe that their culture ruined the JLA.



JLA #1 (1997), shown above, was the start of a new era of glory. During the previous decade, the Justice League of America comics had become so diluted with mediocre characters and half-witted stories/challenges that they had created several satellite teams to contain them all, each with its own book to follow its exploits. Examples included Justice League Europe, Justice League International, and Extreme Justice. After this silliness continued for some time, DC Comics executives decided to take the comic back to its roots by recomposing the team of the DC label's powerhouse figures: Superman, Batman, Wonder Woman, the Flash, Green Lantern, Aquaman, and the Martian Manhunter. (Note: Martian Manhunter is not as widely recognized as the other heroes listed, but was mostly included because he has been a part, in some form and at one time or another, of every incarnation of the League in history. Refer to the bottom left of the image at right.)

Suddenly DC Comics found themselves with a best-selling title that fans couldn't keep their hands off of. I was lucky enough to buy issue #1 off the stands, but it literally took me years to track down #'s 2 and 3 to complete my run. The stories were on a grand scale and involved interesting interactions between amazing characters. One of my favorite involved the Flash (who has always been my favorite superhero) having a casual discussion in their headquarters with Superman (the Zeus to his Hermes) about their personal lives. I believe it's issue #5, though I could be wrong. Flash confides in Supes certain inadequacies he confronts in his daily heroics, and Superman expresses the high amount of respect and admiration he feels towards the scarlet speedster. A very personal insight, a rare glimpse into how the hearts of these supermen relate to each other.

Thus the series followed suit for a good four years or so. The first writer, Grant Morrison, left the series in the hands of Mark Waid, a wise decision. Waid had proven his hand in comics he'd written the decade before, most notably the Flash ongoing series and Kingdom Come, a prestigious graphic novel focusing on a future Justice League that has been overrun by a younger, reckless generation of "heroes."

Waid continued Morrison's tradition of large-scale dilemmas, yet also entreated us with personal tales of sleuth and betrayal (e.g. Ra's al Ghul using Batman's secret failsafe plans of how to disable his teammates). It was during his run on the series that I left for my mission. During my two year sabbatical, Joe Kelly took over. Joe Kelly, a name I shall always remember as one that attempts to create, yet succeeds only in the destruction of the text he builds from.

One of Kelly's first tasks was to tackle a big issue: bringing Aquaman back from being temporally outcast, along with the rest of Atlantis, to 1,000 B.C. Yes, you read that right. The first in a long line of mistakes was the writers of a huge DC summer crossover event deciding to invoke a spell upon Atlantis that would cast it back in time if it were threatened beyond its ability to protect itself. The JLA learns of this lame plot device and decides to hurdle themselves backwards in time in hopes of correcting this enormous error in continuity.

Unfortunately, the horrors only increase. During their attempts to rescue Aquaman and his people, the League falls under attack by a group of prehistoric superheroes who see them as a threat. You'd think that millenia of evolution would give our heroes the upper hand (not to mention that by their shear might they have earned the right to laugh in the face of certain doom, intergalactic paradoxes, and even Noam Chomsky). You'd be wrong.

Within one issue taking place in their time travel exploits, The Flash, who not only moves faster than the speed of light but who also thinks at an equally-increased rate, gets his legs ripped off. Martian Manhunter is burned to death (fire is his weakness). Superman is killed by magic (which, next to Kryptonite, is his only Achilles Heel). One by one, each member of the League dies, except for Plastic Man (who had joined the team earlier, only to end up in this story as a disassembled mess of atoms floating somewhere in the ocean) and Green Lantern.

Discovering that Green Lantern still lives, one of the bad guys, Manitou Raven, makes a sudden change of colors and asks for GL's help in resurrecting his teammates -- but it involves Raven cutting out GL's heart. No, really it does. And it makes perfect sense. See, Manitou Raven is a weird, magical Indian guy who can turn himself into a flock of birds in order to get around. So he MUST know what he's talking about, right? Well, maybe he does. But I sure as heck don't, and I'm starting to get ticked that 1) everyone has died in a rather anticlimactic way and 2) magic is the problem and solution to everything.

Without going off on too much of a tangent, I should mention that magic is my bane. Even in an impossible world of comics, there are rules that are defined in order for us to accept the possibility of what's happening. We know the limits of the world, even if they are more flexible than our own. MAGIC, however, is an excuse to break those limits at the expense of a creative plot. It's the ever-reliable deus-ex-machina for when the writer has written himself into a corner.

Next to Kryptonite and Doomsday,
THIS guy is the only thing that can kill Superman.
Can you really hold that against the Man of Steel?
(Bonus points if you can recognize this person.)

The League wakes up temporally restored and healthier than ever, excepting, perhaps, Plastic Man -- who has been FLOATING as an unrecognizable heap of disorganized atoms for over 3,000 YEARS in the middle of the ocean! Batman does him a favor and picks up the pieces from his Batwing. After cleaning out his glass of Plastic Man, the malleable oldest-man-alive walks away in the most bummed out mood, quitting the League in order to spend more time with his son and less time in the pages of an incoherent story.

Oh, and Aquaman made it back, too. It makes sense that he's unscathed, though. I mean, after all, isn't he the most powerful of the eight JLA members? Who would hurt a guy who lives to protect fishkind?

Thankfully, though, in response to the unexpected slam they've just taken, the League decides to take on a few new members and increase their ranks. And guess who one of the new kids is: you guessed it! Manitou Raven! AND... his wife! Having won our hearts with their magical ability to turn Green Lantern's heart into the resurrection of his teammates, they obviously fit right in among the pantheon of superheroic gods, and seem right at home in a headquarters that floats miles above the earth.

And that's where I left the JLA. I picked up a couple issues after that, but the subject matter got too preachy and boring. One issue compared the Justice League, in a dream sequence, to American soldiers in Iraq who, at the bidding of an evil superior, do not much better than cause an endless bloodbath. Another dealt with Martian Manhunter's desire to overcome his fear of flames.

Who comes up with this stuff? Don't stories get filtered through higher authorities before being printed in order to protect the readership from running away?

But in the end, this is the problem with all comics. The good runs (there's such a thing as "good runs"?) inevitably end. Ending on a high note is difficult to do, considering that the publisher is going to milk a title for all its worth, and fans are always going to demand more until they are disappointed. JLA's good runs (keep those mental images under control) lasted about 60 issues. Then, instead of continuing to keep up the hype with what they already head, DC execs decided to try something "new," as if the title needed it, and resulted in a flop title.

At the same time, what title can run forever without changing? It is sort of ludicrous that Batman has been around since the forties, yet in the comics he is still in his early thirties. But fans demand more of the same, yet it is this very weakness that prevents true character develpment, unless you are satisfied with development being a neverending cycle.

An example of this is Hal Jordan, Earth's original Green Lantern and the first in comics. DC writers made a daring decision by making him go insane as an indirect result of Superman's death/resurrection. Fans hated it. They hated it even more when he was replaced as GL and later died in one "final" attempt to be a hero. A few years further down the road he was given a chance at redemption by becoming the mortal soul of the Spectre, a being who seeks vengeance on evildoers in the name of God (a God of relentless justice rather than mercy). I stopped reading comics before I found out how this next event happened, but somewhere in there Hal returned to mortality and became reinstated as a Green Lantern, his replacement exiled to space to fight intergalactic crime.

Where is the development in that? We've come full circle! So much for lasting consequences! No wonder dead characters always end up coming back. The only dead superhero I know of who has stayed dead is Barry Allen (the original Flash), who better stay put, for heaven's sake. Is nothing sacred?

And this is why I no longer read comics regularly. I'm tired of reading the same old tales being told over and over again, always unsure of how big consequences really are because they can always be undone.

In conclusion, the JLA didn't fall because of a Native American. Indeed, the JLA fell because of what that character represented: uncreative change as a response to an inability to tell new stories with the same characters bound to a set of rules by time and space. DC Comics lost me when they decided to take a good thing and flush it down the proverbial toilet, when they took clever characters and replaced them with mystical beings with inexplicable loyalties. If comic books have become so capitalistic that such a lame character needs introduction to a series/story simply to keep the status quo, to ensure that the story can end, thus supposedly ensuring income over solid storytelling, then count me out.

EPILOGUE:
I still love the idea of comics. I talk about them with whoever can keep a good discussion going on them. I rush to see worthwhile comic-based films, and they tend to be my favorite. I wear my superhero t-shirts from time to time, and I love my DVD's of "Batman: The Animated Series," "Superman: The Animated Series," and "Justice League." I've found relief in my comic book frustrations by escaping to the same characters in a different interpretation. Thank goodness the DC Animated 'verse is still there to keep me intrigued.

Wait. What's that?

And we didn't even get to see an animated Manitou Raven.

*Note to self: Write sequel to "The Downfall of Comics" entitled "The Downfall of DC Animated T.V. Shows: Why Ordering Half-Seasons of an Otherwise-Successful Show while Only Showing New Episodes Twice Every Three Months For a Year and Juggling its Time Slot Around Will Lead to its Inescapable Demise"

**Note to Cabeza: Thanks for being probably the only person alive to read this whole thing.

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From the Calves: Identity Theft

For clarity's sake: no, we aren't associated with THAT golden calf.

We get a lot of beef (no pun intended) because of that guy. But he's old news -- we're the real deal, and by far more valuable. At least, that's the idea we get when we're strutting down Times Square while onlookers collapse and gaze in awe.

Applications for love are currently being accepted.






*Please note that neither the Shark's calves, nor their owner, condone the worshiping of calves in any form, gold or flesh, animal or manimal.

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Bienvenidos a Mis Pantorillas de Oro

This blog is for all things of the mind of Shark. This obligatory, primary post exists merely as a formality and placeholder as I tweak the setup of the blog.

A few notes:

1. I considered doing a gimmick where my calves were the voice of the blog, but thought that might get tedious and old after a while.

2. I decided to create the blog on the Blogger hosting server(s) for various reasons:

• In the case that my website hosting server is down, I can post emergency updates and announcements here.
• My calves get to have their own domain name without having to pay for it.

3. www.TheSharkByte.com is still up and will be updated regularly, and updates will be posted there on its own blog, as usual.

4. I have big calves.

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