phosphordot

“…a mind-boggingly stupid animal, it assumes that if you can’t see it, it can’t see you – daft as a bush, but very ravenous…”

-Douglas Adams, The Hitchhiker’s Guide To The Galaxy

Originally published at Scribblings From The Public Restroom Stalls Of The Gods. Please leave any comments there.

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This is gonna rock. Ha! Get it? And no, I’m not joking – check out this item from the Hollywood Reporter…

As opposed to today’s games, there is no story line or fancy world-building mythology, so the studio would be creating a plot from scratch. Universal, however, is used to that development process, as it’s in the middle of doing just that for several of the Hasbro board game properties it is translating to the big screen, such as “Battleship” and “Candyland.”

So, as long as there are asteroids in Asteroids, and someone is shooting at them, we’re golden.

Originally published at Scribblings From The Public Restroom Stalls Of The Gods. Please leave any comments there.

flack

Originally published at robohara.com. Please leave any comments there.

As I mentioned last year, back at Myers Elementary I was classmates with Jerry Buffington. In 1982, Jerry’s step-dad Tom Wayne recorded and released the hit single “We Called Him E.T.” The single sold “thousands of copies” according to Wayne’s website. My sister and I owned two of them. I also owned an autographed 8×10 of Tom Wayne, which hung on my wall until the E.T. craze blew over.

Although the 8×10 has been since misplaced, I still have the autographed single “We Called Him E.T.” (printed on translucent red vinyl). Unfortunately third graders aren’t known for taking good care of their records, and mine definitely shows its age; it’s slightly warped and covered in scratches.

Fast forward to last year, when I discovered that Tom Wayne’s ode to E.T. had been released on CD! The CD comes with two songs: Wayne’s original “We Called Him E.T.” (which has been renamed to “E.T. and Me”) and a new song, “Best Friends with E.T.” How can you go wrong with that?

Due to an ordering snafu I wasn’t sure that my order had gone through, but after receiving an e-mail from the man himself, everything got worked out and just a few days later I received my new most prized possession — an autographed “E.T. and Me” CD!

With each purchase, you also get a signed copy of the original vinyl single. Double score!

Susan and the kids are already sick of hearing E.T. in the car, so HO HO just wait until she discovered the chorus of We Called Him E.T. is now my default ring tone!! My favorite part is the sound effect when E.T. makes a wish. PING!

Susan’s official statement: “You have lost your damn mind.” I think she’s just jealous because I went to school with a kid whose step-dad KNOWS E.T.

If you are interested in ordering autographed copies of E.T. and Me on both CD and vinyl, please e-mail Tom Wayne directly and he will hook you up. Let him know you read about it here and maybe E.T. himself will pay you a visit!*

(*Probably not though.)

flack

Originally published at robohara.com. Please leave any comments there.

Back when I was in elementary school we learned a song called “Fifty Nifty United States” (Lyrics). If nothing else, learning it is a great parlor trick; I’ve bet people I could recite all fifty states alphabetically in less than 30 seconds before and won.

As a kid singing that song I used to imagine visiting all 50 states someday. Last night someone on Facebook posted one of those quizzes asking “how many of the 50 states (plus DC) have you visited?” My final answer: 38. X’s denote states I have visited; O’s denote states I have lived in.

Alabama: X
Alaska
Arizona: X
Arkansas: X
California: X
Colorado: X
Connecticut: X
Delaware: X
Florida: X
Georgia: X
Hawaii
Idaho: X
Illinois: X
Indiana: X
Iowa
Kansas: X
Kentucky
Louisiana: X
Maine
Maryland: X
Massachusetts: X
Michigan
Minnesota: X
Mississippi: X
Missouri: X
Montana: X
Nebraska
Nevada: X
New Hampshire: X
New Jersey: X
New Mexico: X
New York
North Carolina: X
North Dakota
Ohio: X
Oklahoma: O
Oregon: X
Pennsylvania: X
Rhode Island: X
South Carolina: X
South Dakota
Tennessee: X
Texas: X
Utah
Vermont
Virginia: X
West Virginia: X
Wisconsin
Wyoming: X
Washington: O
Washington DC: X

To be sure, I’ve spent more time in some than others. Several of those I’ve merely driven through. I don’t even think I stopped in Delaware or Maryland as I cruised through them. I spent about ten minutes in California once; dad and I drove there from Vegas “just to say we had been there”. The most surprising omission on the list is probably New York.

If I have any upcoming road trips in the future I may have to alter my routes to pick up a few more. I doubt I’ll hit the far north east anytime soon and Alaska and Hawaii will be tough to collect, but places like Nebraska and the Dakotas are suddenly taunting me.

phosphordot

Tonight, Evan is sleeping in the big boy bed for the first time.

He seems to be doing OK – falling asleep with a full belly and a book for company is very, very daddy.

Originally published at Scribblings From The Public Restroom Stalls Of The Gods. Please leave any comments there.

flack

Originally published at robohara.com. Please leave any comments there.

Funny, when things get the busiest in my life I post the least. Then when things slow down I write posts that start off with “Boy, have I been busy!”

Like this one. Boy, have I been busy! I think it will be easier to go backwards, chronologically.

Sunday was Morgan’s 4th birthday. We had her birthday party at the spray ground off of Melrose, between Council and Rockwell. We had second thoughts about the location after having an issue with another “kid” (I use parenthesis because he was about 13 and dumping buckets of water on the heads of three and four year old little girls …), but after swiftly dealing with that we didn’t have any other issues.

Click here for pictures of Morgan’s birthday party.

The reason we wanted to have a simple birthday party for Morgan on Sunday was because our friend and co-worker Emily got married on Saturday. Susan, I, and a bunch of our friends all volunteered to help out with the wedding. My buddy Tim Dog and I were there at 8am to unload tables and chairs (Johnny and Paula’s boyfriend KJ helped out as well) and we were there at 2pm loading them back up. Unloading wasn’t so bad, as it was only 80 degrees and everything needed to go downhill. Moving everything uphill in 100+ degree temperatures sucked much worse.

Click here for pictures of Emily’s Wedding.

The day before that, Friday, was Susan’s birthday. We didn’t do much Friday night because Susan was exhausted. She was exhausted because, on Thursday night, she got home from Washington DC after midnight.

All of this explains why last night after dinner, I laid down and slept for 10 hours, got up for one, then went back to bed and slept for two more.

flack

Originally published at robohara.com. Please leave any comments there.

Yesterday, the day before Susan’s birthday (which is today; happy birthday sweetie!), I took the kids to the mall to do a bit of shopping. As I exited the interstate, a local disk jockey interrupted programming to announce that Michael Jackson had collapsed in his home and was being transported to a local hospital. While pulling in to the parking lot, the same disk jockey announced that Jackson was reportedly in a coma. By the time we entered the mall, we saw people standing around flat screen televisions, and saw the news headlines for ourselves.

Michael Jackson, the King of Pop, was dead.

How you reacted to the news (and what you thought of Michael Jackson in general) probably has a lot to do with your age. Throughout the early and mid 1980s, Michael Jackson was the biggest pop star in the world. If you’re my age and a fellow “child of the 80s”, when you hear Michael Jackson’s name that’s probably the era you think of.

When I hear Michael Jackson’s name, I remember Thriller coming out in fifth grade. I remember watching Michael moonwalk for the first time and spending the next several weeks trying to learn how to moonwalk myself. I remember a time when you couldn’t turn on MTV without catching a glimpse of Billie Jean, Beat It, or Thriller. I remember the debut of Thriller, and the debut of “The Making of Thriller”, both on MTV. (I taped them both and watched them often.) I remember We Are The World, which Michael sang on and co-wrote. I remember when his hair caught on fire during the taping of a Pepsi commercial. I remember watching people morph for the first time at the end of the Black and White video.

I remember the jacket. I remember the glove.

Michael Jackson was one of the most famous people on the planet and soon he was one of the richest. They say money can buy anything but happiness, and with his riches Michael bought his own reality. In the early days, Jackson’s quirkiness was odd, but cute and seemingly harmless. According to the tabloids his best friend was a chimpanzee, he slept in an oxygen tent, and he was having his skin bleached to become white. He build Neverland Ranch, a $100 million, 2,800 acre ranch full of amusement park rides, zoo animals and a giant compound. Somewhere down the line, “cute and odd” went from eccentric to downright bizarre. Michael was rarely seen in public without a surgical mask. He married, and divorced, Lisa Marie Presley. When paparazzi wanted photos of his children, he recklessly dangled one of them over the edge of his hotel room balcony. Rumors of sleep overs with children turned to accusations of “improper relations” with children … and at some point in time, Michael bought himself a new head; his hair, his chin, his nose, his skin … all different. When Michael showed up for his court trial, his face was literally a mess with a hole where his nose once was. It was difficult to believe that this was the same person so many girls swooned over just a few short years ago.

Like so many other young superstars, Mike ran into financial troubles later in life. (Who knew owning your own 2,800 acre ranch would be that expensive?) Neverland Ranch and its contents went up for auction. After a break from the public eye, a 50-show comeback tour was planned. Unfortunately, that never happened.

I truly feel sorry for generations younger than mine who only knew Michael Jackson for his crazy antics and bizarre behavior. They will never understand what a great performer Michael Jackson was in his prime. Online, I’ve seen several people say, “I never listened to his music, but …” — that right there dates them. There isn’t a single person my age who never listened to his music, willingly or otherwise. There’s a reason Weird Al parodied Michael Jackson and had hit singles not once but two albums in a row (”Eat It” for Beat It and “Fat” for Bad); Jackson had appeal that crossed racial, age and even language barriers. He was Jackie Robinson, Tiger Woods and Obama all rolled up into one likable dancing machine.

To those who are too young to remember, I realize it’s cool to hate Michael Jackson. Just remember that there was a time when it was cool to like him, to love him, to want to dance and dress like him. As nutty as he ended up, he’s my generation’s Elvis, our John Lennon. The closest thing to this my generation has experienced was probably the death of Kurt Cobain, which happened only 2 1/2 years after the release of Nirvana’s major label debut, Nevermind.

You can say one thing for sure; Jackson sure would have loved all the publicity he’s getting right now.

Rest in peace, Wacko Jacko.

phosphordot

A bit of background here: several years ago, my dog attracted several potential suitors despite the fact that we’d been told she was already spayed (hint: she wasn’t). It was kind of like the dog version of The Bachelorette, in that you didn’t so much have lots of moon-eyed soft-focus close-ups in fabulously romantic mansions and vacation spots, as you walked out the door to see dogs gettin’ it on in the front yard. (Thankfully, this was years before Evan was born – how in the world would we explain such a sight now? “Well, son, they’re hiking the Appalachian Trail…” But I digress.)

Both of the dogs pictured in that earlier blog entry still live near here, and they still drop by, often bearing gifts – as if to say “Pleeeeeeeeease, can we do that thing again? ohpleaseohpleaseohplease!” These days, post-spay, Xena’s more like “Howdy, want to follow me down to the pond on the adjacent property and go swimming? Maybe gang up and kill one of the pond geese or something?” It’s altogether unlikely that she’s physically capable of caring any less. (I really need to learn her secret someday, my life would be much happier. Or maybe I need to go kill a goose to release the tension? Anyway…) The male dogs bring her dead deer (or pieces thereof) and other strong candidates for road kill – it gets disgusting, especially once it’s built up that beautiful aroma that only comes from not-so-freshly-dead animal carcass that’s been baking in the noonday sun. Guess who gets to dispose of these “gifts” from Xena’s boyfriends? Who else?

So imagine my unfettered delight when my wife informs me that the backbone and ribcage of some unfortunate creature has been left at the top of our driveway by some ex-boyfriend of Xena’s. Nothing says romance around this house like dead things. When I walked out to look at this latest gift from the gods, er, sorry, dogs, I was completely perplexed. At least the usual dead things have some meat on them – there’s some practical value to a dog. This poor thing, whatever it had been, had no such value.

But once I laid eyes on it, I realized that, as the head of the household, I had a responsibility to do the only thing that would resolve the situation to anyone’s benefit and with any kind of dignity whatsoever.

Originally published at Scribblings From The Public Restroom Stalls Of The Gods. Please leave any comments there.

flack

Originally published at robohara.com. Please leave any comments there.

About a year ago, Susan decided she wanted to go on a family cruise. By definition, a “family cruise” requires that the whole family go, which is how Mason, Morgan and I got roped into going. My mom and her husband Jack signed up for the same cruise, so it became the six of us. The closest thing to a cruise Susan and I have ever gone on was our four-hour honeymoon cruise to the Bahamas, three-hours of which I spent puking over the side of the ship into the Bermuda Triangle. For this voyage we showed up with sea-sickness patches in hand (which worked wonderfully, I might add). Rather than write up an extremely long “blow-by-blow” review of the entire six-day trip (partially because all the days ran together!), I decided to break this post up into multiple categories … more like several mini-reviews, rather than one long story. It’ll still be long, but hey, at least it’ll be broken up.

All of the photos in this post were taken by me and the complete photo album can be viewed here. And now, on with the review!

Read the rest of this entry »

flack

Originally published at robohara.com. Please leave any comments there.

Yesterday, a two DC Metro trains collided, killing 9 and sending 76 to local hospitals. That is not funny. The ABC News article about the crash, however, is (hopefully unintentionally) hilarious. A few quotes from the article:

“The National Transportation Safety Board had twice warned that trains like the ones involved in the Monday wreck could be dangerous to passengers.”

No kidding.

“What causes us concern the most is the fact that this was not supposed to happen,” said Jackie Jeter, president of Amalgamated Transit Union Local 689 Tuesday.

I am glad to know fatal train crashes are not supposed to happen.

And Jeanice McMillan, one of the earliest faces of the train accident, was also a mother. She was killed while operating the train that rear-ended her train.

I am no expert, but I suspect a better system might be for the drivers to operate the train they are on instead of the train behind them. I seriously read this sentence 10 times and still don’t get it.

The son she raised by herself had started college in the fall. Her family said she took pride in her work on the train and ironed her uniform nightly.

Well, at least she didn’t die a slob.

McMillan recently graduated from bus driver to train operator. Her favorite part of the job? Her relationships with the passengers.

I suspect the feeling is not mutual today.

phosphordot

As if fighting to keep a web site on the air over something like six or seven weeks wasn’t enough, I can also announced that I have slain another technical dragon: I finally declared victory on getting the wife’s living room media center PC working, and only a few weeks after Mother’s Day too. It plays Master Of Orion II, it plays movies, it plays music, it plays Monopoly. In theory it can browse the web and do e-mail too, but let’s not get too carried away – it’s using a fairly old TV as its monitor and I’m having a hard time imagining trying to do a lot of reading off of it.

Thank God the machine’s previous owner set up a restore partition on the hard drive; I must have reinstalled the OS something like 20 times. The thing is, while the machine runs on XP Media Center edition, I was never actually able to get the Media Center crap to work. The Media Center functionality is really cool, at least in the brochure – you have a remote control that lets you navigate your media files in a very-easy-to-read-on-a-TV environment and play any of them at the touch of a button. Neato, eh? But the problem, I suspect, is the fact that I put a new video card in it that would do S-video out. Somewhere, having that new card in the machine gummed up the works with some arcane hardware conflict, and so I finally said “@#$% it, I’ll install Nero.” Except that didn’t work too gracefully either. Reinstall again.

I had previously planned on naming this system “Gambit” for network purposes, but after all the reinstalls, I started to think that Holly – from Red Dwarf – would be considerably more appropriate.

Another few reinstalls later, I was scratching my head as I installed Winamp (for music purposes). Now, I’ve been using Winamp since it came out. You know what? Nobody ever told me that it’s suddenly become a damn good video player as well as a damn good music player. I had no idea. Solved all my problems right there. Didn’t bother with Nero. Didn’t need to. With the possible exception of the Media Center-specific DVR functions, that pretty much got me on track. I’m still not sure what to do there – I suspect, however, that I’ll continue to use binaries newsgroups as my DVR for recently-aired stuff that’ll be wiped again as soon as it’s watched. (I know, I know – tut tut tut, shame, iTunes is out there and it’s legal! But how much do you pay for every show that you record and then wipe off of your DVR/Tivo? Heh. Thought so.)

My wife’s favorite part about the new machine: the wireless keyboard. This and the new video card were virtually the only pieces of the machine bought brand new. Total expenditure on the whole project barely crossed the $250 line – hooray for tax refunds!

To sidetrack for a moment: I was gazing at Winamp doing a damn good job of playing some video when I noticed that the playlist window was still up. And that I could add stuff to it. And that’s when it dawned on me: around 1995 or so, when I was working at the (original) Fort Smith Fox station, the station purchased a computer-based commercial playback system which, when hooked up to a cable spot insertion timer (normally used to drop local spots into place unattended at a cable TV head end), could practically run prime time by itself. There are no words to describe what hot shit that was in 1995.

And here we are, barely 15 years later, with a system, in my living room, that could basically run a whole station. If one carved up a show into segments, and then had commercials on the hard drive to run between those segments…

…one would really be onto something if there was still room in the world for standard definition. It’s a neat idea, but I don’t think it’s one I’m going to put into practice anytime soon, not even for fun. Because unlike the guy I worked for back in the day, not every single little idea that occurs to me needs to become a company memo and a “hey, let’s try this!” But it sure would’ve been neat in 1995, aside from the whole thing about not needing many human operators anymore that almost certainly would’ve followed.

In the meantime…happy Mother’s Day. Only about a month or so late.

P.S. I’ve kicked off a summer special for some of our DVDs, to celebrate the site’s seismic shift to a vastly superior hosting service; you can order a bundle consisting of the 4-DVD Classic Gaming Expo set plus either Phosphor Dot Fossils Level 2 or the Phosphor Dot Fossils Brown Box (Level 2 + the first Phosphor Dot Fossils DVD). If your DVD shelf has a gaping, “stuff-produced-by-Earl”-shaped hole in it, and you dig video game history, you can find the limited time special prices here. I had tried to start this deal earlier in the month, but then we got bitten by vampire Globats. The prices on these are good both inside and outside the U.S., so get ‘em while you can! End of plug.

Originally published at Scribblings From The Public Restroom Stalls Of The Gods. Please leave any comments there.