Archive for September, 2005
1. Umm…JJ, I saw X-Files Season Eight too.
2. Four hundred and fifty nine bullets and none hit that pretty boy face?
LOOKS LIKE R. KELLY DOES FLY…
off the handle, anyways.
I TOOK OUT MY FIRST BLOG AD!
Go here (sidebar on the left) and then click your way back here!
COULD TODAY HAVE BEEN ANY BETTER?
My landlord lowered my rent and the cable guy said my DVR can record up to 700 hours of television.
JUDITH MILLER FREED!
Judith Miller, the New York Times reporter who has been jailed since July 6 for refusing to testify in the C.I.A. leak case, was released from a Virginia detention center this afternoon after she and her lawyers reached an agreement with a federal prosecutor to testify before a grand jury investigating the matter, the paper’s publisher and executive editor said.
AND PEOPLE SAID THIS WOULDN’T WORK OUT
Elian, now 11, set off a seven-month custody battle after he was rescued off the Florida coast in 1999 during a failed attempt to reach the United States. His mother died at sea, and his Miami relatives and Cuban exile groups fought to prevent his return to Cuba.
The boy was reunited with his father in Cuba — his legal guardian — after an armed federal raid April 22, 2000, on his relatives’ home. Since then Elian has been treated as a hero in Cuba; Castro had him give a highly publicized speech on the fifth anniversary of the Miami raid.
The boy in the interview said he considers Castro “not only as a friend, but also as a father.”
HAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHA… the whole ride home I was thinking about what I would name my post about going to the so-called Blogger Serenity pre-screening in NYC tonight.
I had a bunch of other ones all lined up, but when I sat down to type, that one just came out — and it so fits perfectly.
Despite the many kind people who emailed me about the instapundit/townhall free tiks for bloggers offer, by the time I sent my email, it was too late.
But luckily Alceste was on the ball, and so I got to go as his guest without pimping out my site with Universal’s Serenity blurb. (Not that we are above pimping Clareified out, mind you, for the right price, we’ll name the site after you and put your picture in the banner — I do have a new apartment to furnish here.)
(There will be no spoilers about the key plot points for the movie, in the following post. All I will say, is the next time you see Esther, smile and say: “I am a leaf in the wind,” then run as fast as your little legs can carry you.)
When we got to the theater, we foolishly thought the guy wearing the brown Serenity T-Shirt and holding a clipboard was an authority figure in charge of the event. Nope.
Just a loser.
We tacked onto the back of a line that practically covered the length of eighth avenue (which is a very, very long avenue).
As we waited, the line got both longer and thicker. Things looked bleak. Alceste left to see if anyone in charge had showed up.
I broke my longstanding “Do not engage” rule and introduced myself to the guy in front of me on line. He was holding a notebook and looking around curiously.
“Are you a blogger?”
“Yes, but I’m also a journalist.”
“Heeey, bloggers are journalists!”
He smiled and amiably agreed.
I asked what his site was and told him about Clareified.
We chatted until Alceste came back. It seems that once again I have managed to find the only other Republican in NYC.
Who is feeding them after dark and getting them wet? Must turn Robert George to restore some the equillibrium.
The clock was inching toward the scheduled seven p.m. start time, but the line was not even inching.
I saw a familiar face walk past.
She was flushed.
“Are you standing on the line that doesn’t exist?”
Good gravy, I hope not.
I looked in front of me,and then behind. Nope, line is totally real.
“No. What line are you looking for?”
Esther flashed her confirmation email, and Alceste explained that the good folks at Universal decided not to show up.
“Does that mean I have to go to the back of this line?”
“Ehh…I’m sure if you stayed to chat with us all the way inside, it’ll be fine.”
(Huh…this is probably how the rest of the line kept getting wider too…)
Turns out that while Alceste had gotten tickets through the instapundit link, Esther had gotten her tickets through some really high up connection. Of course, since she was in the line with the rest of us, I don’t know how high up he actually was.
But she had his number and decided to call it.
The guy she called was in California and explained that she and a handful of other bloggers had gotten the “confirmed tickets,” but then Townhall posted that link and the deluge of emails and new additional bloggers, screwed up the whole system and now no one was confirmed. He apologized and said it was totally his own fault.
But, as we listened all we could hear was Esther’s side of the conversation.
“Do you know how much like an excuse that sounds?” she snapped into her cellphone.
“What? What’s his excuse?”
“Oh, his house might be on fire.”
Not for nothing, but as far as excuses go…
Turns out TK was writing an article about the use of electronic media in PR, and so as Esther kvetched and I naysaid, he went back and forth on whether it would be a better story if we got in or if we didn’t.
But within minutes the line was moving and we were in the theater well before seven.
Having successfully used us for our place in line, Esther tried to ditch us once we were inside for primo seats in the upper decks.
“Sorry these are reserved,” the usher said as she eyed a row of empty leather seats.
“Do you mind telling me for who? I actually am supposed to have reserved seats.”
Alceste had already given up and headed straight for the front rows. So dejected at his fate, he tripped and almost fell down the last three steps.
Hard to say if I was laughing at that or the usher telling Esther that the seats were not reserved for her.
Dawn Summers: very bad person.
Somehow, we all ended up sitting together in the third row waiting eagerly for the movie to start.
Probably feeling guilty for trying to ditch us for the fancy “reserved” seating, Esther offered up some Twizzlers for the eating — but I judged them and found them wanting.
Twizzlers. Bleeech…might as well chew on your sandals.
As promised, there won’t be any spoiler spoilers — I won’t really talk about the movie at all, since as TK artfully puts it “If you don’t like the series, you probably will be lukewarm towards the movie. And also, you have no soul.”
As I’ve always been iffy about the Firefly series, his analysis rings true. Although… I can’t imagine what a man who didn’t like Buffy or Angel, knows about soul.
But one observation that pisses me off the more I think about it, is that Whedon holds steadfast to the taboo Hollywood has made of the interracial relationship.
Zoe and Wash, who in the series were nauseatingly lovey dovey, touchy feely, kissy face, bed romping, are here, completely stripped of all affection. Nary so much as a “what’s up?” or handshake.
Inexplicable. Also, Mal seemed to be a disjointed composite of Mal from the pilot (bad/grumpy) and Mal (funny/charming) from the later episodes.
Alceste has hinted that he might pull a Dorian Davis and guest blog a review of the movie here, until then, see you in the skies.
Oh, and I am a leaf in the wind.
IF POPE JOHN PAUL II WASN’T DEAD BEFORE…
He will be soon.
CNN Reports that Katrina victims are living ‘like cavemen’
Evidently, having learned nothing from Geico’s errors, the news station now scrambles to appease the anger of the nation’s cavemen.