Saturday, October 30, 2004
This was just inevitable.
Tuesday, October 26, 2004
So, here's what's been done to the computer since we got it:
Added CD-RW drive (sucked, later removed)
Added ethernet card for DSL connection.
Added firewire card
Added various hard drives: 1.5gb left over from old computer (Basically just enough to shift some files around when I was burning a CD)
60gb, to store music, video, and Adult Diversions
Recently removed the original 20gb, made the 60gb the C: drive, and added a 160GB for ultra-super-happy media files
And just yesterday, added 256Mb of RAM to the existing 128, and FINALLY replaced the CD-RW with the DVD-RW you guys gave me. I'm pleased to report that so far it works like a dream--I have a new Best-Of-Shatner CD for the car and last night I burned and watched a download of the latest Desperate Housewives.
The bad news, though, is that Shelswick had been looking forward to the added RAM and DVD drive so she could play The Sims 2--and now it turns out that our graphics card is too weak. Gah.
Still, I couldn'ta done it all without everything I learned from messrs. Mowrer and Bridges. Your kung-fu is the best.
Copyright 2004 Rich Bowen
Added CD-RW drive (sucked, later removed)
Added ethernet card for DSL connection.
Added firewire card
Added various hard drives: 1.5gb left over from old computer (Basically just enough to shift some files around when I was burning a CD)
60gb, to store music, video, and Adult Diversions
Recently removed the original 20gb, made the 60gb the C: drive, and added a 160GB for ultra-super-happy media files
And just yesterday, added 256Mb of RAM to the existing 128, and FINALLY replaced the CD-RW with the DVD-RW you guys gave me. I'm pleased to report that so far it works like a dream--I have a new Best-Of-Shatner CD for the car and last night I burned and watched a download of the latest Desperate Housewives.
The bad news, though, is that Shelswick had been looking forward to the added RAM and DVD drive so she could play The Sims 2--and now it turns out that our graphics card is too weak. Gah.
Still, I couldn'ta done it all without everything I learned from messrs. Mowrer and Bridges. Your kung-fu is the best.
Copyright 2004 Rich Bowen
Monday, October 25, 2004
No Whedon on X-Men 3
Joss Whedon recently participated in a political conference call (don't ask, I don't know what that means either) and let a few bits of news slip. Among other things, he confirmed that he will NOT be directing X-Men 3, as Fox didn't ask him, and if he just showed up and started directing it would be a faux pas. To learn more, including who survived the Angel finale (and who Shanshued), go to WHEDONesque.
Wednesday, October 20, 2004
The tights are filled!
The website Latino Review has the scoop that actor Brandon Routh is the new Superman. Follow the link to check out an ironic picture from last halloween.
Cinescape has news that among the candidates for Lois Lane are Charisma Carpenter and Amy Acker, and that Seth Green is being considered for Jimmy Olson, which would be beyond perfect. And, of course, David Boreanaz was considered for a long time for the lead. What next, James Marsters as Luthor?
Actually, that would pretty well rock. And he DID just shave his head for charity.
Hmm...
Copyright 2004 Rich Bowen
Cinescape has news that among the candidates for Lois Lane are Charisma Carpenter and Amy Acker, and that Seth Green is being considered for Jimmy Olson, which would be beyond perfect. And, of course, David Boreanaz was considered for a long time for the lead. What next, James Marsters as Luthor?
Actually, that would pretty well rock. And he DID just shave his head for charity.
Hmm...
Copyright 2004 Rich Bowen
Sunday, October 17, 2004
Let There Be Lips...Again!
So...dominant!
It's happened again, somehow.
Jessi, our director of Vancouver's Rocky Whores (the name of our cast) had mentioned the possibility that she might have a job in broadcasting by next Halloween, and if so, then her AD, Kevin, would bump up to director, with me moving into the number 2 spot.
This week's rehearsal was supposed to be a trial run for that; Jessi was on-air at school this weekend, leaving Kevin in charge, and me getting his back. Then she sends an email out on saturday--about 24 hours before the thing--saying that Kevin's grandmother has died, so he can't be there, so Rich is in charge.
*blink blink* What?
So yes, once again I fall into the leadership role. I think I handled things pretty well, even made up for some past mistakes. I just made sure we kept on task, since, as with any gathering of like-minded people, the tendency was to just be social. But mainly, I prayed there wouldn't be another situation like the one that led to us being without a Rocky and a Riff-Raff.
Let me give you the basics on that story, which I mentioned a few weeks ago but never elaborated on. Our Rocky, you see, had been a 19-year-old girl, who was at that stage where she realizes how easy it is to use your sexuality (or, more accurately, your tits) to get attention. At rehearsals, she loved to make innuendo-laden comments, or flirt with the girl playing Frank, or anything else to shock me shock me shock me with that deviant behavior.
The trouble came when she arrived at one rehearsal with some fetish costumes she had bought at a sex shop, and she and Frank modeled the "Sexy Milkmaid" and "Sexy Strawberry Shortcake" (no comment) outfits. Another cast member (who shall remain nameless to protect the innocent, though who among us can truly be called innocent?) made some comments, which Rocky chose to be offended by.
There's the problem; she was offended by sexual comments, made in a sexually charged atmosphere, and directed at someone who has made more than her share of sexual comments.
A couple of weeks later, Jessi was out of town, and called off the rehearsal. But Rocky sent out an email to the rest of us declaring a "super-secret" rehearsal. This cloak-and-dagger event, to which I unfortunately couldn't make it, was specifically so she could air her grievances about the other cast member without him there.
That was bad enough. Then the next day, Jessi, who knew nothing about her clandestine bitch session, got a call from Rocky's mom, demanding to know why she had kept her daughter until after midnight.
Jessi: "Um, I never had your daughter last night."
What followed was probably the worst phone conversation of Jessi's life, with Rocky's mom condemning us as sexual deviants and threatening legal action. Turned out there had been a whole 'nother controversy; as her costume, Rocky had been planning to wear the standard gold lame trunks, with handprints painted over her tits with liquid latex (see previous comment about the power of tits). Jessi had called the theater to see if this was kosher, and the theater management had called Rocky's home and left a message that "bare breasts" (their interpretation) were not okay. Which was what started the avalanche of shit between Rocky and her mom that rolled downhill onto Jessi.
I got most of this as it was going on, since I had been helping Jessi with a project for her school that week. For everyone else, the first hint they had (apart from the secret rehearsal) was when Jessi announced at the next rehearsal that Rocky was out. And moving to Winnipeg with her mom.
Rocky showed up later on at that rehearsal, along with her boyfriend, who we all assumed was still playing Riff-Raff. They sat off to the side the whole time, not saying a word, then after we were done rehearsing, the boyfriend stood up and announced that he felt that we were all giving him suspicious looks, and was also dropping out. Of course, we WERE giving him suspicious looks, because he was there with the person who had stirred up the shitstorm, quit the cast, and showed up at the rehearsal but didn't say anything. We had nothing against him personally--the fact that he shows up so late in this narrative attests that he had no part in the rest of the drama. But he had decided to join Rocky up there in martyrville anyway.
Still, like soldiers, we all seem to have come out of this traumatic experience with a closer cast bond, and more determined to do a kickass show.
With or without a Riff and a Rocky.
Copyright 2004 Rich Bowen
It's happened again, somehow.
Jessi, our director of Vancouver's Rocky Whores (the name of our cast) had mentioned the possibility that she might have a job in broadcasting by next Halloween, and if so, then her AD, Kevin, would bump up to director, with me moving into the number 2 spot.
This week's rehearsal was supposed to be a trial run for that; Jessi was on-air at school this weekend, leaving Kevin in charge, and me getting his back. Then she sends an email out on saturday--about 24 hours before the thing--saying that Kevin's grandmother has died, so he can't be there, so Rich is in charge.
*blink blink* What?
So yes, once again I fall into the leadership role. I think I handled things pretty well, even made up for some past mistakes. I just made sure we kept on task, since, as with any gathering of like-minded people, the tendency was to just be social. But mainly, I prayed there wouldn't be another situation like the one that led to us being without a Rocky and a Riff-Raff.
Let me give you the basics on that story, which I mentioned a few weeks ago but never elaborated on. Our Rocky, you see, had been a 19-year-old girl, who was at that stage where she realizes how easy it is to use your sexuality (or, more accurately, your tits) to get attention. At rehearsals, she loved to make innuendo-laden comments, or flirt with the girl playing Frank, or anything else to shock me shock me shock me with that deviant behavior.
The trouble came when she arrived at one rehearsal with some fetish costumes she had bought at a sex shop, and she and Frank modeled the "Sexy Milkmaid" and "Sexy Strawberry Shortcake" (no comment) outfits. Another cast member (who shall remain nameless to protect the innocent, though who among us can truly be called innocent?) made some comments, which Rocky chose to be offended by.
There's the problem; she was offended by sexual comments, made in a sexually charged atmosphere, and directed at someone who has made more than her share of sexual comments.
A couple of weeks later, Jessi was out of town, and called off the rehearsal. But Rocky sent out an email to the rest of us declaring a "super-secret" rehearsal. This cloak-and-dagger event, to which I unfortunately couldn't make it, was specifically so she could air her grievances about the other cast member without him there.
That was bad enough. Then the next day, Jessi, who knew nothing about her clandestine bitch session, got a call from Rocky's mom, demanding to know why she had kept her daughter until after midnight.
Jessi: "Um, I never had your daughter last night."
What followed was probably the worst phone conversation of Jessi's life, with Rocky's mom condemning us as sexual deviants and threatening legal action. Turned out there had been a whole 'nother controversy; as her costume, Rocky had been planning to wear the standard gold lame trunks, with handprints painted over her tits with liquid latex (see previous comment about the power of tits). Jessi had called the theater to see if this was kosher, and the theater management had called Rocky's home and left a message that "bare breasts" (their interpretation) were not okay. Which was what started the avalanche of shit between Rocky and her mom that rolled downhill onto Jessi.
I got most of this as it was going on, since I had been helping Jessi with a project for her school that week. For everyone else, the first hint they had (apart from the secret rehearsal) was when Jessi announced at the next rehearsal that Rocky was out. And moving to Winnipeg with her mom.
Rocky showed up later on at that rehearsal, along with her boyfriend, who we all assumed was still playing Riff-Raff. They sat off to the side the whole time, not saying a word, then after we were done rehearsing, the boyfriend stood up and announced that he felt that we were all giving him suspicious looks, and was also dropping out. Of course, we WERE giving him suspicious looks, because he was there with the person who had stirred up the shitstorm, quit the cast, and showed up at the rehearsal but didn't say anything. We had nothing against him personally--the fact that he shows up so late in this narrative attests that he had no part in the rest of the drama. But he had decided to join Rocky up there in martyrville anyway.
Still, like soldiers, we all seem to have come out of this traumatic experience with a closer cast bond, and more determined to do a kickass show.
With or without a Riff and a Rocky.
Copyright 2004 Rich Bowen
Wednesday, October 13, 2004
Check out some incredibly heartfelt tributes to Christopher Reeve at the Superman Homepage.
Tuesday, October 12, 2004
Wonderfalls is back on TV!
Vision TV, a Canadian network, is airing WONDERFALLS! Not only that, but they'll be showing all 13 episodes, so you know I'll be grabbing the 5 I still don't have. I surrender to destiny!
Monday, October 11, 2004
Okay, there's a little subject I feel it's time to address...
Look all over TV. What do you see? Dr. Phil. Judge Judy. Dr. Ruth. There's a woman on the news here in Vancouver, who dresses like a MILF-wannabe (she wears fishnets. On the fucking news.), who calls herself Dr. Rhonda, a porn name if ever I heard one.
People, if you put a title (and I'd like to see some credentials for these titles--Ms. Judy, I'm looking in your direction) in front of a first name, you know what that says to me? It says you have no credibility. You are a TV hack, delivering two-minute McSessions and in twenty years (Ms. Westheimer, I'm looking in your direction) you will be a frequent fixture in fast food commercials.
Come on, people, even Frasier went by Dr. Crane.
Copyright 2004 Rich Bowen
Look all over TV. What do you see? Dr. Phil. Judge Judy. Dr. Ruth. There's a woman on the news here in Vancouver, who dresses like a MILF-wannabe (she wears fishnets. On the fucking news.), who calls herself Dr. Rhonda, a porn name if ever I heard one.
People, if you put a title (and I'd like to see some credentials for these titles--Ms. Judy, I'm looking in your direction) in front of a first name, you know what that says to me? It says you have no credibility. You are a TV hack, delivering two-minute McSessions and in twenty years (Ms. Westheimer, I'm looking in your direction) you will be a frequent fixture in fast food commercials.
Come on, people, even Frasier went by Dr. Crane.
Copyright 2004 Rich Bowen
Funeral For A Friend
After September 11, a strange thought kept going through my head: if only we had superheroes. The attacks could have been prevented, or at least more lives could have been saved, if we'd seen the Justice League, the Fantastic Four, the Avengers, even the Authority, on the scene.
That friday, I got together with Chris and Angie, and we watched the special edition DVD of Superman: The Movie. It was just the thing to get me out of my funk. A welcome burst of primary-colored heroism, in a world where, let's face it, we need such things.
I hadn't seen the movie in years, except in a heavily chopped-up TV edit, and I had never realized before how much humanity Christopher Reeve brought to such a potentially silly character. Think of the scene where Clark Kent comes to Lois Lane's apartment for dinner, before taking off and treating her to a date with Superman. At one point, while Lois has her back turned, Clark considers spilling his secret to her; he takes off his glasses. His voice deepens by a clear octave. He grows a foot, it seems. We watch a man transform, and suddenly we understand how Clark was able to throw so many people off. And this is without any effects--that's all Reeve.
And from that moment on, we DO believe a man can fly. Even in the later ones, when Superman was playing second fiddle to Richard Pryor or burdened by campy slapstick, the man, contractually indentured to the series, somehow maintained his dignity.
And it was a dignity he held even after becoming paralyzed in a riding accident. Not only did he adapt to his new situation, he spearheaded stem cell research for spinal cord injuries; in recent years, he was able to move one finger and even breathe without a respirator. Hell, we believed he could fly, so of course we believed he would one day stand up from his wheelchair and walk again.
Christopher Reeve died sunday.
Heroes don't wear a cape. The full effect of their heroism is seldom felt in their lifetime.
Someday, thanks to the attention Reeve brought to spinal cord injury, people who would have been paralyzed for life will move. They will walk, maybe someday they will fly.
Superman lives.
That friday, I got together with Chris and Angie, and we watched the special edition DVD of Superman: The Movie. It was just the thing to get me out of my funk. A welcome burst of primary-colored heroism, in a world where, let's face it, we need such things.
I hadn't seen the movie in years, except in a heavily chopped-up TV edit, and I had never realized before how much humanity Christopher Reeve brought to such a potentially silly character. Think of the scene where Clark Kent comes to Lois Lane's apartment for dinner, before taking off and treating her to a date with Superman. At one point, while Lois has her back turned, Clark considers spilling his secret to her; he takes off his glasses. His voice deepens by a clear octave. He grows a foot, it seems. We watch a man transform, and suddenly we understand how Clark was able to throw so many people off. And this is without any effects--that's all Reeve.
And from that moment on, we DO believe a man can fly. Even in the later ones, when Superman was playing second fiddle to Richard Pryor or burdened by campy slapstick, the man, contractually indentured to the series, somehow maintained his dignity.
And it was a dignity he held even after becoming paralyzed in a riding accident. Not only did he adapt to his new situation, he spearheaded stem cell research for spinal cord injuries; in recent years, he was able to move one finger and even breathe without a respirator. Hell, we believed he could fly, so of course we believed he would one day stand up from his wheelchair and walk again.
Christopher Reeve died sunday.
Heroes don't wear a cape. The full effect of their heroism is seldom felt in their lifetime.
Someday, thanks to the attention Reeve brought to spinal cord injury, people who would have been paralyzed for life will move. They will walk, maybe someday they will fly.
Superman lives.
Thursday, October 07, 2004
Incidentally, I've been hearing about Lois Lane's vaunted appearance on Smallville. I'm currently still in the middle of season 2, and while it's getting better overall, they seem to have established a pattern whereby there are 4 or 5 kickass episodes a season that really get to the point, and deal with the whole mythology of the thing, whereas the rest are just kryptonite-villain-of-the-week, interspersed with some reasonably interesting character stuff. For those, I've learned that I can safely fast forward through all the KVOTW scenes and not miss anything important. And Lana Lang...still smokin' hot, but christ, she's a worse actress than Natalie Portman.
Copyright 2004 Rich Bowen
Copyright 2004 Rich Bowen
Is it fall yet?
So, for the first time since 1998, it's a fall TV season without something new from Joss Whedon. No Buffy, no Angel, no Firefly (seriously, just get the fucking DVDs and check it out ayeady). So if you're like me, you've had to expand your TV-watching horizons. Here's what's turning my crank these days.
JUSTICE LEAGUE UNLIMITED: I'm actually liking this more than the previous two seasons of JL. A lot of folks online have complained about the shift away from multi-episode stories, and the emphasis on guest stars rather than the core team, but as a lifelong DC loyalist (one might even say "zombie"), it's just so cool seeing the lesser-knowns like Green Arrow, Black Canary, Red Tornado, and other, non-color-based characters get some play. And the single-episode format actually works: the stories are tight and focused, with a mix of Samurai Jack-like action and mad, brilliant ideas. One episode, "For The Man Who Has Everything," was based on a comics story by Alan Moore. Then there was "This Little Piggy," written by Paul Dini, the man responsible for the best episodes of Superman and Batman (not to mention Tiny Toons and, of course, Droids). In that one, Circe the sorceress appears:
WONDER WOMAN : That's Circe! She--
BATMAN: Yeah, I read the Odyssey.
And Circe, well...she turns Wonder Woman into a pig. Hey, get back here. While some of DC's sillier heroes (like Elongated Man and Red Tornado, who pulls a very Tasmanian Devil entrance) try to find the escaped Wonder Pig, Batman has to deal with a host of mythological characters to try to change her back, including a very Bette Davis-like Medusa. The episode feels very...well, Joss Whedon-inspired, especially when Batman is forced to sing at a Caritas-like bar.
THE GILMORE GIRLS: Yes, I know this show is dripping with the perfumey stench of estrogen, but it's also got some of the best, funniest rapid-fire dialogue on TV. It's like Buffy, without the slaying. And it doesn't hurt that both mom and daughter are wicked hot.
DESPERATE HOUSEWIVES: the trashy hoot of the fall. A suburban housewife kills herself...and serves as narrator for the lives of the other upper-class housewives on her block. You've got the image-conscious Stepford wife, the horny divorcee, the latina slut (who actually fucks the gardener--live that cliche!), and the former professional saddled with a bunch of screaming crotchlings. Everyone on this show is a cretin, and the whole thing is pure shameless fun. For real, y'know, not in a sanitized, Melrose way.
LOST: Created by Alias creator JJ Abrams. A plane crash strands 48 survivors on a desert island. Go ahead, make your Gilligan coconut jokes, I'll wait. All done? Good. As they work to survive, we see flashbacks for each character, and the secrets they brought with them onto the plane. Oh, and there's something huge in the jungle, that's already eaten the pilot.
The writing staff for lost includes former Whedonverse writer David Fury, as well as--hot damn!--Paul Dini. I'm there, dude.
Copyright 2004 Rich Bowen
JUSTICE LEAGUE UNLIMITED: I'm actually liking this more than the previous two seasons of JL. A lot of folks online have complained about the shift away from multi-episode stories, and the emphasis on guest stars rather than the core team, but as a lifelong DC loyalist (one might even say "zombie"), it's just so cool seeing the lesser-knowns like Green Arrow, Black Canary, Red Tornado, and other, non-color-based characters get some play. And the single-episode format actually works: the stories are tight and focused, with a mix of Samurai Jack-like action and mad, brilliant ideas. One episode, "For The Man Who Has Everything," was based on a comics story by Alan Moore. Then there was "This Little Piggy," written by Paul Dini, the man responsible for the best episodes of Superman and Batman (not to mention Tiny Toons and, of course, Droids). In that one, Circe the sorceress appears:
WONDER WOMAN : That's Circe! She--
BATMAN: Yeah, I read the Odyssey.
And Circe, well...she turns Wonder Woman into a pig. Hey, get back here. While some of DC's sillier heroes (like Elongated Man and Red Tornado, who pulls a very Tasmanian Devil entrance) try to find the escaped Wonder Pig, Batman has to deal with a host of mythological characters to try to change her back, including a very Bette Davis-like Medusa. The episode feels very...well, Joss Whedon-inspired, especially when Batman is forced to sing at a Caritas-like bar.
THE GILMORE GIRLS: Yes, I know this show is dripping with the perfumey stench of estrogen, but it's also got some of the best, funniest rapid-fire dialogue on TV. It's like Buffy, without the slaying. And it doesn't hurt that both mom and daughter are wicked hot.
DESPERATE HOUSEWIVES: the trashy hoot of the fall. A suburban housewife kills herself...and serves as narrator for the lives of the other upper-class housewives on her block. You've got the image-conscious Stepford wife, the horny divorcee, the latina slut (who actually fucks the gardener--live that cliche!), and the former professional saddled with a bunch of screaming crotchlings. Everyone on this show is a cretin, and the whole thing is pure shameless fun. For real, y'know, not in a sanitized, Melrose way.
LOST: Created by Alias creator JJ Abrams. A plane crash strands 48 survivors on a desert island. Go ahead, make your Gilligan coconut jokes, I'll wait. All done? Good. As they work to survive, we see flashbacks for each character, and the secrets they brought with them onto the plane. Oh, and there's something huge in the jungle, that's already eaten the pilot.
The writing staff for lost includes former Whedonverse writer David Fury, as well as--hot damn!--Paul Dini. I'm there, dude.
Copyright 2004 Rich Bowen
Cool Robots Disappoint, Was Just BMW Viral Campaign � MarketingVOX
Fooled again, just like the Andy Kaufman thing. Why am I such a fucking gullibull?
Wednesday, October 06, 2004
This just in...
oh crap...
All my old emails--and my address book--seem to have vanished. This could be bad. Twinkie bad.
Copyright 2004 Rich Bowen
Copyright 2004 Rich Bowen
So yesterday, I'm right in the middle of something when the computer suddenly shuts off. Annoying, yes, but nothing that hasn't happened before.
Except that it's not coming back on.
I try going to safe mode. Nothing. After several more attempts, I finally get a message that a particular system file is "missing or corrupted." So I put in the recovery disk. Recovery doesn't work. The only option is to reformat.
I don't want to lose all the stuff (emails, bookmarks) on my C drive. Fortunately I have the shiny new 160gb hard drive y'alls gave me for my birthday. I pop that in and install windows on that.
So, there's the 20gb drive that came with the computer, which is apparently infected. Then the 60gb drive I added later, with all my files on it, and the new 160gb drive. You know the game with the three cups and the pea? I'll be playing that over the next few days, only the cups will be drives, and the pea will be data.
Oh, and if anyone (Mr. Bridges, I'm looking in your direction) knows what the hemorrhaging FUCK caused this I'd be grateful.
Copyright 2004 Rich Bowen
Except that it's not coming back on.
I try going to safe mode. Nothing. After several more attempts, I finally get a message that a particular system file is "missing or corrupted." So I put in the recovery disk. Recovery doesn't work. The only option is to reformat.
I don't want to lose all the stuff (emails, bookmarks) on my C drive. Fortunately I have the shiny new 160gb hard drive y'alls gave me for my birthday. I pop that in and install windows on that.
So, there's the 20gb drive that came with the computer, which is apparently infected. Then the 60gb drive I added later, with all my files on it, and the new 160gb drive. You know the game with the three cups and the pea? I'll be playing that over the next few days, only the cups will be drives, and the pea will be data.
Oh, and if anyone (Mr. Bridges, I'm looking in your direction) knows what the hemorrhaging FUCK caused this I'd be grateful.
Copyright 2004 Rich Bowen
Friday, October 01, 2004
Wow, I haven't updated in a while, have I?
So, the basics: RHPS rehearsals are currently being plagued by what amounts to one person's ego problems. This weekend is Shelswick's mom's fittieth birfday, and we're currently hosting her surprise gift: Shelly's aunt from Ontario. And I'm starting to work on another long piece for this site, since I know you all want to know every detail of my life.
More later.
Copyright 2004 Rich Bowen
So, the basics: RHPS rehearsals are currently being plagued by what amounts to one person's ego problems. This weekend is Shelswick's mom's fittieth birfday, and we're currently hosting her surprise gift: Shelly's aunt from Ontario. And I'm starting to work on another long piece for this site, since I know you all want to know every detail of my life.
More later.
Copyright 2004 Rich Bowen
