Sometimes the world can be a pretty horrible place. I can only believe there is some way to escape...
Friday, November 20, 2009
TV: The Relic Hunter
Have you ever wondered where the items in a curio store come from? Were they dug out of some spinster's attic? Were they traded for in a faraway auction house? Even in the age of eBay, there's still a certain ineffable fascination with exotic objects.
"The Relic Hunter" (not to be confused with the kitschy Tia Carerre vehicle) is a new series on Travel Channel that does a good job of evoking this fascination. It follows a curio store owner in his search for unique items to sell in his shop:
There could have easily been the whiff of 19th century imperialism about the proceedings, but Ian Grant is such a guileless, ecologically and socially sensitive host that the series avoids the perception that the show is looting native peoples (check out his website if you don't believe me). Instead, it's a celebration of unique cultures and items from around the world. Everything from an Amazon River boat paddle to a Kazakhstan ceremonial implement is treated like a valuable souvenir - a welcome antidote for anyone jaded by too much assembly line plastic.
"The Relic Hunter" is one of the few Travel Channel shows that doesn't involve food (Travel Channel's primetime hits: "No Reservations," "Bizarre Foods," "Man v. Food"), so I suppose that may limit its audience. For anyone with even a hint of the collecting bug, however, the opportunity to see cool stuff from different countries should be enough a draw.
If you tried hard enough, you could probably make everything tactical - coffee cups, underwear, bacon. And there are plenty of people who do try. That's why it's difficult to review a pair of 5.11 HRT Desert Boots without looking like a total spaz.
The HRT purportedly stands for *gulp* "Hostage Rescue Team," an appellation that's enough to conjure up images of mall-ninja-ized Cold Steel catalogs.
In truth, though, these are good, comfortable soft-soled boots that required zero break-in. They give a lot of ankle support without being unnecessarily stiff, they hold up well to extended use, and they even look fairly fashionable (or at least, so I'm told).
I do have some complaints. Despite their advertised resistance to oil and blood, the boots seem to stain easily; a few weeks out bumming around town were enough to get a lot of dirt and grime on the uppers. The collars are pretty loose, so it would behoove you to use Gators if you need to move through heavy snow or sand. Finally, if you don't find them on sale like I did, you might have to shell out $100 a pair.
All in all, these are solid boots that are worth the cash. Even if you do risk looking like a poseur.
A chemical reaction is a dance between molecules, and you need enough dance partners if you want to keep the dance going. As the below video illustrates, increasing the amount of men in the dance hall only works up to a certain point...
In a way, the bullet shortage is even worse. Primers, powder, and cases are mostly interchangeable, but each bullet has its own specific uses. In the case of the Gold Dots, the 135 grain bullets are specially engineered to expand at typical 2" .38 snub velocities. It's a bit frustrating to have the right primers, the right powder, the right cases, but the wrong bullets. I may have to start loading bulk lead wadcutters if this keeps up.
Somewhere between the short story and the novel is the novella, a piece of prose long enough to require sectional divisions in the text but still short enough to read in one long sitting. Because the form gives enough space to describe a different world but doesn't require a writer to come up with a complex plot, there are a lot of post-apocalyptic novellas; individual flavors range from politics (Ayn Rand's "Anthem") to horror ("The Mist" by Stephen King).
"Genesis," by Bernard Beckett, is almost a prototypical sci-fi novella. In the book, human civilization as we know it has been devestated by a plague, and a handful of survivors have formed a society on an isolated island. Rather than thrusting the reader into the middle of this decaying world, though, Beckett opts for a far-future Republic centuries removed from the original plague. Here, a youth named Anax tries to enter an elite Academy by taking a grueling Socratic entrance exam that tests her knowledge of historical hero Adam Forde. It's a good premise, and a tidy way of dumping a lot of exposition on the reader without the narrative collapsing.
That doesn't mean it's great literature, though. As Anax describes the life and times of Adam Forde, it's hard not to raise a few eyebrows at the massive plot details being glossed over in her dialogue with the Examiners. The final revelatory twists are clumsy, more M. Night Shymalan than Rod Serling. Still, as a way to jump-start an epistemological discussion in a ToK class, it's a decent first-day read.
My Mom is an inveterate movie sleeper. She works so hard at her day job that she understandably has difficulty staying awake through an entire feature film. The movies that can overcome her weariness are special indeed, like "Saint Ralph":
It's a dramedy about the rigors of Canadian Catholic school and marathoning. Director Michael McGowan won't win any awards for originality here - the plot is identical to about a dozen sports movies (including several whose plots directly involve running, like "Chariots of Fire"). In "Saint Ralph," plucky underdog Ralph Walker enters the Boston Marathon looking for a miracle to save his mother. Along the way, of course, he faces opposition from a stodgy school headmaster and the rest of the incredulous student body.
The movie is stuffed to the gills with treacle. Most of the characters are paper-thin cutouts just there to lend Ralph a helping hand; Jennifer Tilly, for instance, doesn't do anything with her performance aside from looking good in her nurse costume. Still, there's an understated period charm in "Saint Ralph," a faithful optimism that's almost critic-proof. You have to give the film credit where it's due, too - the climactic marathon scenes are about as well-executed as any sports movie could hope for. Plus, if Mom didn't fall asleep, the movie must be doing something right.
The knife is the oldest tool. The ancestors of modern humans flaked off the edges of rocks to form stone blades that could butcher carcasses more effectively than fingernails and teeth. This was the first step, a refusal to acquiesce to the physical limitations of the human body:
Since then, of course, knives have been used by all cultures and all peoples around the globe, from Mongolian steppe to African desert. I'm not sure when humans will make it to the surface of Mars, but you can bet they'll be carrying blades of some sort with them when they touch down.
I've always had a fascination with technology, and the knife represents technology in its purest form. So, since my Kershaw Skyline review went over well, I'd like to look at more knives, starting with today's SOG Flash II.
The Flash I and II are the entry-level choices in SOG's line of assisted-opening folding knives. They're not as fancy as the Aegis (with its aggressive spearpoint blade) or the Trident (which has a built-in notch for cutting paracord - how's that for tactical?). Still, the Flash series manages to present everything that sets SOG knives apart from their competitors - a fast spring-assisted opening system, low-profile pocket clips, and useful blade profiles.
I tested out the Flash II, the larger of the two models. The Flash II has a 3.5" blade made of AUS-8 steel, a decent middle-of-the-road steel that holds a serviceable edge. The blade's full flat grind and its conventional profile provide excellent slicing ability, with plenty of belly for various tasks (cutting up a chicken, slicing newspaper coupons, etc.).
Although the Flash II's blade is good, SOG's patented assisted opening technology quickly takes center stage (it's U.S. patent 6,941,661, BTW). Check out how it works:
The spring-assist makes for very fast deployment - all you need to do is flick the blade about 3/4" with the thumbstuds and the spring will pop it out the rest of the way. To close the knife, you push back on a low-profile sliding lock near the pivot. SOG even throws in a manual safety latch to prevent the blade from opening. I'm not a huge fan of the added complexity this setup brings, but it has proven to be reliable and durable in my use.
Unfortunately, all the added springs and widgets SOG uses to flip out the blade need to be housed in a thick, ungainly Zytel handle. While the sides of the handle are nicely textured, the overall thickness is blocky for a pocket knife. To use a firearms analogy, if my Kershaw Skyline was a Kahr, the SOG Flash II would be a GLOCK. The Flash II would also benefit from better jimping on the top of the handle and a more pronounced choil/fingerguard to prevent slipping forward on the edge.
Even though it's thick, the Flash II is still practical to carry around because of its light 3 ounce weight and SOG's bayonet pocket clip. The clip, reversible for right or left side carry, buries the knife deep into the pocket. In fact, the knife carries so deeply that only the clip can be seen from the outside. This is important for people who carry knives in offices or workplaces where, although legal, folding knives might not be politically correct.
Overall, the Flash II is a good knife with a big, useful blade and an interesting opening mechanism. There aren't too many folders of this size that carry discreetly, and almost none that retail for under $50. The SOG Aegis knife actually fixes many of the issues I have with the Flash II, but that's a review for another day...
Veteran's Day Reflections - A Most Unusual Military
Most of the Veteran's Day stories today predictably weave in the recent tragedy at Fort Hood. For my part, I'm glad the murderer's plan backfired - although he killed 13 people, the shootings inadvertently showed just how special the armed forces of the United States are.
We now know the shooter was an Army Major, but more importantly, he was a devout Muslim of Palestinian descent. His very presence in the U.S. military gives the lie to the charges of imperialism or racism that are levelled against it (usually by thugs or terrorists who are blind to their own racism). Can you imagine the shooter rising to such a high rank in the North Korean army? In the Iranian army?
There are other, happier stories emphasizing this disconnect. Hung Ba Le left Vietnam when he was five years old, one of the countless "boat people" fleeing the Communists. He came back to Vietnam in another boat - this time a U.S. Navy destroyer with a crew of 300. In the 34 years since he left, he had become a Commander in the U.S. Navy.
For all the men and women serving America in this most unusual military, thank you for keeping us safe.
From this day to the ending of the world, But we in it shall be remembered- We few, we happy few, we band of brothers; For he to-day that sheds his blood with me Shall be my brother
Sorry for the lack of posts...I had a nasty stomach virus that pretty much knocked me out all yesterday. Shangrila Towers will be back soon, but if you lack for reading material, how about trying the health insurance bill the House passed? Gonna be (not-so) fun times for Senate staffers...
As of this moment, the motives and specifics behind the horrific spree shooting at Fort Hood yesterday are unclear (terrorism? religious fanaticism? mental breakdown?), but the facts are pretty cold. There are at least 12 innocent people dead and many more wounded. But it all feels gratingly familiar.
Two years ago, a mentally unhinged student murdered people at Virgina Tech. On that dark day, two handguns were used, and more than thirty people were killed. Eighteen years ago, at a Luby's Cafeteria not far from Fort Hood, there was another infamous spree shooting, another mentally deranged person willing to hurt people. This shooting was also perpetrated with two handguns, and, like at Fort Hood and Virginia Tech, more than forty people would be shot before the smoke cleared.
There are differences, too. The victims at Fort Hood were quite unlike the elderly diners at Luby's and the college students at VA Tech. Here was a group of some of the bravest, most capable people in America. The victims were mostly soldiers, set to be deployed. In terms of situational awareness and fighting ability, they were probably far above the average civilian. Yet it appears that an Army psychiatrist - not a Delta Force guy, not a Navy SEAL - with two handguns murdered them in cold blood until he was finally shot by police.
This test population of soldiers was similar to the diners in that Luby's and the students at Virginia Tech in at least one way, though. All three groups were disarmed, by law - when not in combat, soldiers cannot carry handguns, concealed or otherwise. In fact, they face stiff penalties for bringing personal firearms on a military base, and are usually alerted to that fact with the "No weapons allowed beyond this point" signs posted at all entrances.
We have seen these signs before.
They don't work.
It's sobering to think that right now, on my hip, is a 9mm handgun with 15 stupid little lead pellets, completely ordinary objects that can be picked up at the local Wally World. Nothing special about them at all. But those pellets, and the gun that fires them, could have made all the difference at the Soldier Readiness Processing Center yesterday. Right now, I am better armed then a sworn member of the U.S. armed forces, at least those who are on military bases here in the States. And that is a damn shame.
Inside the JCPenney at the Palm Beach Mall, the Christmas displays are already up. Big, enticing red sales signs, holiday music, the whole smash. There is a part of this JCPenney that's out of the ordinary, though - the store's mall entrance is closed. Through the clear windows of the closed sliding doors, you see this:
From there the end was inevitable. Even a renovation in 2000 couldn't wash away the stain of violence from the mall, which drove out the upper-middle class shoppers most malls rely on to survive. I visited the Palm Beach Mall recently to see just how bad things have become (if you must go, be sure to bring protection - I suggest a Trojan).
Walking the Palm Beach Mall was a surreal experience - almost like being in a post-apocalyptic zombie movie. Since the building is in foreclosure, every single cost-saving measure has been rolled out. The air conditioning has been turned down in the building, so it's actually fairly warm inside, at least for a mall. The central water fountain's been bone-dry for ages. Many of the ceiling lights have been turned off, giving the place a dungeon-like atmosphere. The restrooms are, predictably, out of order.
Oddly enough, there are a few brave souls still trying to operate stores in this place - there's a GNC, a Foot Locker, and a smattering of independent booths and stalls. If you ever visit, I hope you like Subway, because it's the only place that's still open in the food court. Like you might expect, most of the salespeople are just hanging on, riding it out until the end of their leases.
I did buy something from Sears - two pairs of clearance shorts for $10 (cheaper than Goodwill). The friendly old saleslady's voice was dour, with a distinct Welsh brogue. She said that Sears was closing in January, and that the building might be demolished soon after that. I didn't say it, but I thought it while I was walking out: "I hope they tear this place down sooner rather than later."
If you're reading this blog, you're probably a do-it-yourselfer on some level. Whether you do your tinkering at the reloading bench, on the kitchen counter, or on a printed circuit board, you refuse to just consume things as they are from the factory. The latest weapon in your war against the mundane? The Yogourmet electric yogurt maker:
That's right, why mess with store-bought yogurt when you can make your own by the quartful? Yogourmet takes the guesswork out of culturing a good yogurt by holding the temperature of your yogurt mix at the right level for hours and hours at a time. Sure, you could accomplish it manually, but Yogourmet eliminates the tedium. Just scald your milk mixture, add a starter, and dump in the Yogourmet.
The yogurt produced varies in taste and consistency depending on the milk and starter used, but the Stonyfield Farm-cultured stuff that I had was delicious. It was pleasantly tart, with a creamy, custard-like texture that went well with granola and fruit. It was as good as any grocery store yogurt I've ever had, but it cost about ten times less (instead of $1 for 6 ounces, it was more like $1 for two quarts).
You probably won't find Yogourmet on store shelves (when some guy is picking inventory, "electric yogourt maker" doesn't jump out as a hot seller), but it's worth a look if you want control over your yogurt.
Nearly every horror movie franchise slips into satire or self-parody. It's almost impossible to avoid - as the kills get more gruesome, as the monster or villain is resurrected innumerable times to do battle, logic and reason are eventually tossed out the window. It happens in some franchises quicker than others (look at Tobe Hooper's tongue-in-cheek take on his own work in "The Texas Chainsaw Massacre 2"), and I'm pretty sure the "Saw" series is there with "Saw VI":
In case you haven't seen the first five movies, the "Saw" series follows serial killer Jigsaw and his compatriots as they place their victims into deadly situations where the victims must mutilate themselves to survive. Jigsaw and co. are ostensibly out to give the victims an appreciation for the value of their own lives. The first movie was blissfully simple (two guys in a room forced to saw their own feet off), but later iterations have dialed up the complexity by a couple orders of magnitude.
This latest "Saw" almost seems to make fun of the whole thing. When Evil Predatory Lender Girl is seen in the hospital after cutting off her own arm to escape a trap, the killer asks the woman if she's learned her lesson. She responds by waving the stump in the air and yelling "What am I supposed to learn from this?" The victim selection gets even more tenuous, with a janitor being hauled in for the sin of smoking cigarettes (he's understandably confused).
But then, that may be the point - to move away from the semi-realistic moralizing and to just make Jigsaw a nigh-supernatural killer who uses sadistic games to do the deed. The traps, for instance, are becoming more elaborate and more crowded. In "Saw VI," it would probably take a team of skilled artisans weeks to construct all the traps you see on-screen, and perhaps a hundred people to execute the simultaneous kidnappings of the two dozen victims that Jigsaw populates his traps with.
So, as a straight horror movie, "Saw VI" isn't very scary (or even very gruesome). But, if you're looking for a horror movie sequel, like the ones where Freddy Krueger wisecracks and Jason Voorhees impales a pregant woman through the stomach, "Saw VI" will probably give you a few macabre laughs.
Conventional haunted attractions like Universal's "Halloween Horror Nights" or Busch Gardens' "Howl-O-Scream" aren't really aimed at families. For one thing, admission is pretty expensive - even discount tickets will run around $30 each, with regular admission easily topping $50 per person. That's some serious money for the average nuclear family (plus you have to pay for parking). And even if you have the bones, you might not like your nine year old daughter getting freaked out by all the simulated bloodletting in the scare zones and haunted houses.
That's where "Gator Hollow," a haunted attraction staged every October by Orlando's Gatorland, comes in:
Okay, so "Fear You Can Afford!" may not be the world's most subtle tagline, but it's accurate - admission to "Gator Hollow" is only $10 per person. Because Gatorland is such a small place compared to the big theme parks, don't expect multiple haunted houses or scare zones. Instead, the entire experience plays out like one long show, with characters constantly shepherding groups of about two dozen people from one skit to another.
The park does a pretty good job with their incredibly limited budget. First, they use a fairly coherent theme and backstory - this year, for instance, radioactive meteors have fallen into the swamp, attracting the attention of aliens and awakening the dead. Second, they have a lot of decent character actors that really play their roles effectively (the guys who played cursed ghosts Jack and Pip deserve a big raise). Most importantly, though, the experience is scary enough to be pleasant but not graphic or intense enough to scar the kiddies for life.
It's not a long experience (maybe 45 minutes tops), but it's perfect for a family who wants to go through a good attraction but doesn't need the problems of fighting traffic, finding parking, and waiting in line at one of the big draws in Orlando. See a horror movie afterwards and you have a perfect one-two Halloween punch that won't break the bank.
Every time December rolls around, there's enough Christmas carols and holiday pop songs to fill up days and days worth of airtime. Not surprisingly, there are a lot fewer Halloween songs out there. The ones that do exist, though, are pretty good. Here are a few of the tracks I'll be playing to set the mood for those who make their way to my doorstep:
Thriller, Michael Jackson
Unless you were living on Pluto, you probably heard that the King of Pop passed away over the summer. "Thriller" is not only Jackson's most famous music video, but also a perfect Halloween song - the thumping groove makes it perfect for dancing, while the Vincent Price narration adds an appropriate touch of creepiness. This is actually one of the few megahits that Jackson did not write himself - "Thriller" was written by Rod Temperton.
Monster Mash, Bobby (Boris) Pickett and the Crypt-Kickers
This song has become a Halloween favorite, and I've blogged about it before. It's been covered by a lot of musical acts, with the most famous one coming from punk band "The Misfits":
Night on Bald Mountain, Modest Mussorgsky
Along with Bach's Toccata and Fugue in D Minor, this classical composition is associated with the occult because of its use in popular culture. Anyone who's ever seen "Fantasia" associates the screeching, whirlwind orchestral cues with the resurrection of ghosts by an enormous demon, Chernabog. Mussorgsky himself attributed to the composition various fun images, including a witches' sabbath and St. John's Eve.
Purple People Eater, Sheb Wooley
Another silly song that briefly rocketed to the top of the Billboard charts. While it wasn't actually released in October, "Purple People Eater" has gone on to become a staple Halloween song (When else would you play it? Easter?), especially for schoolchildren. The fun refrain ("one-eyed one-horned flying purple people eater") is catchy and easy to dance to, while simultaneously evoking some '50s B-movie monster.
Theme from Halloween, John Carpenter
Horror movies, even good ones, generally don't have very strong scores. "Night of the Living Dead," for instance, didn't have an original soundtrack, and even more modern movies like "Scream" or "Final Destination" sport forgettable music. A happy exception is the main theme from "Halloween," performed and written (mostly) by the director John Carpenter. It's chilling and memorable because of its simplicity, which matches the singular homicidal drive of silent boogieman Michael Myers:
