Trouble abounds

So the presidential race on the Democratic side will just not behave and go die its little quiet death like it knows it should. Hillary Clinton is like one of those really small dogs that makes a shocking amount of noise and gets way more fierce than you could predict. As a result of her tenacity, which would be respectable in something like mixed martial arts, Barack Obama is getting bruised and battered, so at this point even if he does become the Democratic nominee he's not the unstoppable force he once was. Thanks a fuckton you fucking bitch Hillary, I can't wait for another GOP president so I can spend my whole voting life so far getting jaded and learning to make molotov cocktails out of my grundle hair in a basement.

On another note, this is profoundly weird and sad and also funny. I checked a day later and they have given up the search, the guy has gone to god. Happy belated Earth Day!

Softball Game in San Quentin Prison

Earlier today I played a softball game with a local team I'm on against the prisoners in San Quentin Prison, we had been scheduled to play two weeks ago but there was a lockdown that prevented that from happening.

Our team gathered at a nearby park a few hours before the game and it was obvious we were nervous because of all the off-color prison jokes we were making to clearly conceal the fear that stereotypes and probably some reality had created in our minds. Also we were told we "didn't want to use the San Quentin shitter" so we all took turns pushing our hardest in the park's porta-potty.

Our usual pre-game huddles are all about hitting line drives and calling balls in the air.


This one consisted of our captain telling us the rules the volunteer San Quentin coach told him:

1. Do not ask anyone what they were in for.
2. Don't make conversation with inmates in cells if we walk down a block.
3. If you hear a siren take a knee immediately.

With that, the jokes subsided and we talked a little about observing the conditions in there, just being able to see what it's like for the inmates and went into a discussion about how some people think it's fucked up to provide an afternoon of fun for people who mostly are in for life for violent crimes. I tend to disagree, thinking that if you reform yourself and behave well, you might be in for life, and having that freedom 100% taken away is shitty enough, you might as well get some perks here or there. It's a poor man's restorative justice but I'm probably never going to be in a position to influence incarcerative law so here we went.

After driving into the visitor's parking lot it was very somber, lots of well dressed people, families, going surely to visit friends or relatives, Sunday is visiting day. We met the volunteer coach for the San Quentin Pirates outside and he was a sweet old Jewish guy but didn't seem to have any sympathy or feeling for his team. He informed us of the hostage policy (no help for us if shit goes down) and then in we went wearing goofball matching "Little Lebowski Urban Achiever" t-shirts.

I was totally shocked at how light all the security seemed. We brought nothing in as we were told but were not searched once or put through a metal detector and the guards seemed to not give a shit at all. It was weird, if we had a vendetta against anyone in there for whatever reason it seemed we could have brought anything in we wanted. Then we went through the gates and were in. It was Sunday and a lot of prisoners were coming out of the churches they had near the front. They all greeted us, pale-faced no doubt, wished us luck, said "God bless" and carried on.

We got to the field, a really nice field, as nice as any city-maintained field complete with a scoreboard in the outfield that said "San Quentin Field of Dreams". We were also all shocked to find NO GUARDS visible on the yard with about 100 or so prisoners milling around, lifting weights, hitting punching bags, shooting hoops. One of the saddest things were the older prisoners in their 60's and 70's it appeared, just sitting or slowly walking on the yard, completely alone. The prisoners were mostly racially segregated and waaaay older than we would have thought. The umps were inmates and they greeted us and got the game going, telling us that since San Quentin is maximum security and has death row and the execution chamber that this was the last stop for a lot of guys and they weren't really threats anymore and this was a "soft" prison compared to some of the other ones with younger, Latin American gang inmates in on shorter sentences. This was reassuring. There was no outfield fence, the grass just ended and there was more of the yard, inmates sitting there watching. The team we played had uniforms and gear donated from the SF Giants and we later found out the field was from the SF 49ers.

All the players on the other team had to have been on good behavior for at least three years and I think once they get on the team and are physically okay they can stay on because it's a huge privilege so the average age was around 40 and they weren't the buffed up stereotype (most of them) that we thought. We had some pre-game jitters and came out shitty in the first few innings, going down by a few runs. I was in the outfield as usual and getting some Grade A heckling from the inmates milling around behind me. One guy hit a huge blast over my head and I had to decide between diving into the crowd to get it or letting it go. I'd like to say I went headfirst into a lifer but I let it go. Another one later went over me into their outdoor urinal so there was some good fun being had at my expense but I answered back with one of the biggest (and luckiest) shots of my career, a drive to right that also cleared the field but their OF was a little friendlier with the fans so he went and got it as I came into third for a triple.

A really humorous moment came when we hear noise over the loudspeaker and remembering our instructions, dropped to a knee in about .2 seconds. The inmates throughout the yard quickly starting laughing their asses off and it turned out it was just an announcement about something over the PA system. Later an alarm did go off but the inmates grumbled to us that is happens about 8 times a day whenever a guard has to go to the bathroom or something to keep people down on the ground, waiting.

The game carried on and we relaxed a lot after realizing how nice and grateful all the guys were, slapping five to us and asking to borrow our bats and chew some sunflower seeds and the crowd we quickly realized was rooting for us for no apparent reason. We pulled ahead toward the 7th inning which we thought would be the last one but we had extra time so we went a full 9, getting a late rally and winning 10-7. At first we had been afraid of what would happen if we won, but these guys clearly wanted us to go 100% and stayed and chatted for a little bit as we packed up. They thanked us for coming out and made a number of jokes about their predicament which we all laughed a little nervously at and told us to come back and play again because "we'll be here and still have the home field advantage." We agreed to come back and took off.

One guy told us as we were leaving, "You know, inside or outside doesn't matter, just a beautiful day and everyone likes playing ball." And that was really the sentiment of the day, I didn't need to know who was in for what crimes, in fact I really didn't want to know, because they just seemed like normal guys. Who knows what you can do 20 years ago messed up on a lot of drugs, crazy. The informality and intimacy really surprised me as did the general population, so it was a very interesting and ultimately, enjoyable afternoon. When I get some more pics I'll post them.

Wow.

This article is from the BBC, not The Onion, although honestly, wow, I'm having trouble even expressing the absurdity, obvious stereotypes and amazement.

Deep Thoughts (literally)

I had no idea Jack Handey was a real person, this is a funny and insightful article on the man who has influenced us all by dropping such knowledge bombs as, "The face of a child can say it all, especially the mouth part of that face."

Action/Horror Trailer

Techno music blares in a dark nightclub. Leather clad patrons move and gyrate with the intense beat as lasers cut through the fog. Tattoos, spikes and chains flash past the camera in a flurry of debauchery. Brightly colored drinks are slammed down by pale-skinned women as men grimace at them in lust from behind dark sunglasses (despite the fact that they are indoors in a poorly lit night club.) One man in particular, dressed in a black velvet Victorian-style suit strolls through the club and casually reclines on a couch between two young women, interrupting their intense kissing. He stares at them lustfully as he sips from a dark red glass of wine. Another man walks up to him. "Fromage', we are gods my friend. We are GODS!" Fromage' smiles playfully, then turns his head back and laughs a full, maniacal laugh. The camera pans to a top-down shot and we see Fromage''s impressive set of long, pearly vampiric teeth. The whole club returns his laughs, and we see that all the patrons share the vicious canines. At that moment the door is kicked in and a small figure stands silhoutted in the moonlight. One vampire turns to hiss, and the camera zooms in close as the vampire's expression turns to one of confusion and then fear as he is sprayed with a stream of water that quickly begins to burn his skin. "Hooooooly Waaaaaater!" the vampire screams. The vampires begin to panic as the diminutive figure rushes around the room. Some vampires are sprayed with holy water, others are delivered small stakes through the heart. Fromage' stands and glares downward at the figure so small yet wreaking so much havoc. "You..." Fromage' says. "Isn't it past your bed-time?" The camera pans down and we see a small black boy with an afro carrying a squirt gun in one hand and a crossbow with wooden bolts in the other. "No" the boy says..."I took a nap today." The boy raises the squirt gun and fires directly into the camera. Fromage''s scream fades away...

..Rock music blasts in and the title explodes in blood through the black background:

Little Blade (The "little" is in kid's handwriting, and the "blade" is metallic and dripping with blood)

Coming Summer 2010

Mr. Bojangles II

I submit my own movie trailer, Mr. Bojangles II: High Octane Chicken Machine. I cheated though. I already made the trailer. I'd like to thank Hans Bengtson for taking time out of his busy schedule to shoot with us on such short notice.

We've Traded a Camel for a Mermaid

The modern cigarette is a cup of coffee. You spend $5 a day on your habit, everyone does it, and there's a certain type of brand awareness. One legalized mood altering drug has been traded for another--except, the symptoms of drinking coffee sound more like the symptoms of stopping cold turkey with cigarettes: anxiety, irritability, jitters. The similarity between coffee and cigarettes continue. They both taste like excised monkey butt. Women like something that's less severe, and I started drinking coffee without cream to prove I wasn't a wuss. Likewise, women used to have long filters on their cigarettes, and men smoked without. Sure, you don't rust your lungs, but coffee is no elixir of life itself. Coffee and cigarettes both cause hypertension and yellowed teeth. You get several of the negatives and none of the positives. Unless drinking outside a Starbucks with your laptop has increased your popularity...and I'm guessing it hasn't.

Then there's water.

Ever notice how people who carry water bottles around everywhere drink while you're talking. It's one of the most annoying social crutches I know of. Does he really feel that awkward listening to me that he has to put something in his mouth to shut his ass up? Whatever works dude.

Trailer: Summer Movie

Monumental epic string music playing...

Shots of Eric Bana walking into a diner, sitting down to coffee and eggs

"Joe Hoobastank was an ordinary man, with ordinary dreams"

Bana talking to Jennifer Aniston

"I want to be a rock star"

Bana in a field at night, watching a meteor shower

"But when a magical shooting star granted his every wish..."

turntable sound as needle skips and music stops, Bana looking confused, cut to shot of Kel, the fat kid from All That who is now on SNL

"Damn"

All Star by Smash Mouth plays...

Shot of Bana playing guitar with people cheering

"Now, Joe Hoobastank can finally become what he always dreamed of being..."

Shot of Kevin Spacey in a suit saying:

"Welcome to our Undersea Laboratory"

Shot of an Undersea Laboratory

"Deep Blue Sea 2: The Reckoning"

"Starring Kevin Spacey as the Bad Guy"

"This Summer"

Movie Trailer: EMO- The Movie

Death Cab's "New Year" plays in background as scene fades up into bedroom laden with music and philosophy posters.

A long haired kid in flannel shirt and tight jeans sits on his bed trying meekly to play a xylophone and crying.

Dad is heard yelling from outside, "Do your fucking chores kid and shut up with that xylophone, goddam that's annoying."

Kid keeps crying and mutters, "you don't understand" under his breath.

Dad (Rutger Hauer) bellows again and enters room with dead rat.

"see kid, you don't do your chores, I kill your rat."

Kid gets up, crying still, "I'm leaving" and marches out the front door.

Once outside he acts all pissy and starts to come back, then starts to leave again, then sits down and cries.

Trailers: The Stone Age

The trailer opens with a primitive ape-man slowly stalking an elk across the frozen tundra. He is silent as death. He creeps ever closer to his prey. When the moment is key, he lunges forward to throw his spear, but he loses his footing and topples down an icy slope. He struggles for his life but there are no handholds...he drops into an icy abyss. As he falls into the darkness we see his face. The actor is Pauly Shore.

Dramatic music cues up.

Movie trailers.

I am starting a new blog series called "Life: As told in a series of movie trailers." I encourage the other bloggers to contribute.

Trailer 1: Teaser for the Beginning of Time -

Deep Voice: "Sometimes Life draws the bow of the Mind with a bristling arrow of Darkness. When the arrow is loosed all you can do is catch it in your bare hands, redirect its momentum, and tell William Tell to suck a dick."

*Shows William Tell with his head against a tree and an apple on his head. He gets arrow to the face as the apple slowly rolls forward and hits the arrow, making a "boi oi oing" sound*

Deep Voice: "The arrow of Darkness never misses"

This is my first of many

The Costco Myth

There's this myth. It's that buying in bulk is cheaper. I've seen people write before that buying in bulk is not cost effective, but until tonight I didn't really understand the argument. Most of the time, people who harangue America's latest best friend, Bulk McTons, are usually harping on the fact that by volume, the bulk price isn't actually that competitive.

This may be true in rare cases, but it is inconsequential.

My roommate and I went to the Costco last week, that warehouse of egalatarianism. Even though we've had a membership, this is only our 3rd trip since August. They had one of our staples there, Heart To Heart. It's Honey Nut Cheerios for adults. Almost identical, except our box has adult buzz words like "healthy" instead of an obnoxious bee. We were excited--they didn't have it before. So we bought two boxes (~$14). Now, by volume, that's way cheaper than it is at Trader Joe's.

Except a funny thing happened.

We ate pretty much $7 of cereal in as much time as it would take us to eat $3 of cereal. Before a Costco universe, we dealt with the scarcity of cereal by not eating it. Since we don't get to the store anytime a single food source is depleted, we conserve. Before a Costco universe, cereal at 9:30 before bed meant no cereal in the morning.

Buying in bulk was cheaper--but we consumed more and faster. I'm eating Kashi like it's going out of style. Ergo, over time I will spend more. At the core, I don't really care if I spend more. I am irritated I'm eating more. And I feel like I've discovered another and more deceitful way we are encouraged to be mass consumers. Not just of mass quantities, but as quickly as possible. I know how grocery stores encourage sales--how they intentionally block up aisles to slow people down (so they can look at that sale on Mr. Pibb). I guess I was deluding myself when I thought Costco was more consumer-oriented, bringing us Americans, rich and poor, a great deal.

Turns out I was wrong. And who on earth drinks Mr. Pibb?