윤

Or at least it looked like one. A kitten, from its height. Unlikely a chihuahua’ll be on the loose. Crab apple-sized head, and legs were too long to be an opossum’s when it darted out into the inside lane on Normandie, eyes in my headlights. My reflexes aren’t what they used to be, and 4000 lbs. is hard to swerve in, so there was a bumping sound which wasn’t the car next to me. But how is an insurance deductible measured against the taking of a life?

I circled back on the busy street and frustrated traffic behind me until I spotted the crooked carcass lying right on the paint in the middle. No room to stop, so there’ll be no burial except in the cemetery of my mind. (Occupied mainly by ghosts, that.) My highest victim in the animal kingdom above the armadillo that liquified against my fender guard one night out in unincorporated Westheimer with Ron Giveon.

30 Rock continues to delight. (That exact phrasing from an old post I linked to just this week.) Last night’s embarrassment for Liz mines my own history in a scary way.

Recent post on io9 reminded me of the positively geekgasmic issue for me from so long ago where Batman meets Holmes. I liked Alan Davis’ art, too. The two paired up again in last week’s Brave & the Bold, which, despite Cartoon Network moving it around in their usual fashion, I caught this morning before taking the car in.Oh, and Morrison & Quitely are doing B&R, but it doesn’t sound like All-Star Superman, bleh.

We’ve already gone here and there together, but 老婆 insists this was our official honeymoon. Lets me bring up my life-long interest in the origin of the word, at least ever since seeing a Korean club with the name in Houston—which I look back now and would describe as seedy, probably a front for prostitution—and making the odd connection with the French word “miel”; this would include

蜜月 (mìyuè)
みつげつ (mitsugetsu) and the aforementioned
밀월 (milwol)

Etymology suggests a Proto-Indo-European heritage for the word “honey”. Amazing how small the world was back when it didn’t take a ten-hour flight between continents with Virgin’s impressive video library.

She’s put most of the rest on Facebook, but I’ve learned my lesson from Textamerica and am not about to trust my online immortality with the latest fad. SOL, of course, if WordPress doesn’t save to standalone HTML like Movable Type.

I liked the ending (which the Tivo only caught after the hour-mark, since it’s still stuck on the old Daylight Savings) better when it was on The Hitchhiker’s Guide to the Galaxy.

ARTHUR: That’s it. Six by nine…forty-two! I always said there was something fundamentally wrong about the universe!
FORD: Hmmm.
ARTHUR: So what do we do now?
FORD: I guess we just swallow our pride and go and join the human race.
ARTHUR: Yes.
CAVEMAN: [Grunts]
FORD: Right.
CAVEMAN: [Grunts]
ARTHUR: It’s sad though, just at the moment it’s a very beautiful planet.
FORD: It is. It is indeed. The rich primal greens… the river snaking off into the distance… the burning trees…
ARTHUR: And in two million years: bang! It gets destroyed by the Vogons. What a life for a young planet to look forward to!
FORD: Well – better than some. I read of one planet off in the seventh dimension that got used as a ball in a game of Intergalactic Bar Billards. Got putted straight into a black hole, killed ten-billion people.
ARTHUR: Hmm. Total madness.
FORD: Yeah! Only scored thirty points too.
ARTHUR: Where did you read that?
FORD: Hmm, a book.
ARTHUR: Which book was that?
FORD: ’The Hitch-Hiker’s Guide to the Galaxy’…
ARTHUR: Oh that thing….

Has effectively replaced The Office for my Thursday night laughs. The tide’s finally turned against capitalism and overcompensated management like Michael Scott to put an end his 15-year tenure (fortunately only a third televised), which, while not the least bit funny, was well enough performed by Mr. Carrell. Quitting was his last act of incompetence, and this coming from someone who would know.

[Segue from my draft-delayed post about Street Fighter IV.]

As tempted as I am to play hooky and catch a cheap matinee, I think I’ll wait on the Lord of the Rings-sized Blu-Ray. I did, however, complete the Motion Comics on the flight to Heathrow and was very impressed how much better Flash artists have gotten at “animating” images since the Marvel Superheroes, most of the effort for which must have gone into their theme songs. (By the way, why aren’t the Mighty Heroes on DVD? Now there’s the team that Alan Moore really should’ve used for his comic book Götterdämmerungen.) Simultaneously fast-forwarding through the awful Day the Earth Stood Still remake it also struck me that smartest man in the world Ozymandias was wrong, and if anything 9-11 proved it; even had someone like him architect’d the attack, all the fear that resulted was only manipulated by the administration for their own ends. Maybe the fanboys were right, and it does need the squid.

Like The Prisoner, I come full circle. With my old 1080i monitor installed on my Anthro-wback at 老婆’s, Street Fighter revisits, first by way of infallible Super Famicom, then Xbox360 and when even Fighting Commander-maker Hori’s import-only controller failed with analog sticks that leave even less room for the critical cross pad, already requiring a stretch for short thumbs forced into place by the grip handles, I went back and forth setting the display for the PS3 before learning it’d auto-detect by holding down the power button.

This doesn’t strike me as much more than an upgrade from the HD’d Super Turbo, less so if I’m awed by how far we’ve come today with things such as Shazam and President Barack Obama; online play we had 15 years ago with XBAND. As I was telling 남재 before I left, by the time they realize my dream MMORPG-style incarnation where avatars represent our virtual fighting skills, he and I will be relegated to two of many expendable guards of some punk kid’s fortress dojo.

I’m still feverish from a bug I caught on my way back from Europe, although I no longer attribute my dream-a-thons solely to my temperature. (Funny but I don’t remember any over there, which suggests it’s more to do with how much activity I see during the day.) If I’m not hobnobbing with celebrities or exercising superpowers, there are secret worlds to be discovered, this morning when I noticed that my unattended bicycle was being stripped between each inspection. No one was around, but nearby was a hole in the dirt, no deeper than a burial plot, through which we could see couples in 50’s-era clothes dancing. Peering even longer, and a whole Eighties video production was going on in this subterranean complex. The point of view shifted to the ground floor and I looked up and saw my large head spying below at this hidden kingdom of lost cultures.