On A Scale Of One To Braaaaaaaaaains...

Much like those in the film itself, there was a hurried zombie stampede for the theater exits when the movie ended

Ladies and gentlemen, Jeremy will be reviewing a film he's actually seen.  This is a rare and special gift, so you should hang on to this like a squirrel hiding acorns for the cold, sarcastic months.  

So, not long ago, I had the chance to watch the new zombie apocalypse film, "World War Z."  Unfortunately for me, I did not pass up this opportunity.  What I got was quite possibly the driest, most soul-deprived take on the zombie film ever.  It combined lots of things I don't like.   Let's examine them, shall we?

Do we have to?

It's my blag, so yes.

First, films that are ostensibly action films that really have no action.  Sometimes, "action" movies deal more with people sitting around in offices and meeting rooms talking and calling people on the phone moreso than any sort of...you know...action.  The Bourne series is one serviceable example of this (though Matt Damon does spend at least a decent amount of time punching people...also, we're going to ignore the more recent Jeremy Renner Adaptation, because it will be better for everyone's sanity if we pretend that never existed), but a far clearer picture is painted by the film "Tinker Tailor Soldier Spy," in which a supposedly action-packed plot is unraveled bit by bit through one guy hurriedly talking to many different people in different rooms.  That was it.  Horrible let-down.  Same thing happens here...you have a guy trying to survive the zombie apocalypse and find a cure for the infection by going to random places and talking to people.  Oh, and he gets in a plane crash for some unknown reason.  Which brings me to...

Second, plot points for the sake of plot points.  There's a plane crash in this movie.  That's not really a spoiler, because nothing happens because of the plane crash.  A guy is on a plane, and it crashes.  Then, he continues going about whatever it was he was going to do before the plane crashed anyway.  There was no reason to have the plane crash other than to create a zombie-fighting scene on an airplane.  Okay, that line might be a spoiler, but it's not much of one, and you can see it coming a mile away anyway, so deal with it.  Early in the film, there's also a random family tucked in an apartment waiting out the zombie apocalypse.  We meet them early, and one of the kids escapes with Brad Pitt.  We don't really know why, and we're led to believe that the rest of the family dies...but the whole episode really serves no purpose.  Except, perhaps, to illustrate the point that Brad Pitt is a good guy and everybody else can learn from him.  Which brings me to...

Third...and I'm a little less clear on how to describe this...but there's one useful character in this entire film.  There's Brad Pitt and there's a world full of buffoons.  There's an entire army of people on a giant Navy ship sitting around talking on the phone, but nobody actually doing anything.  The only thing they can think of to do is call up Brad Pitt, who reluctantly comes out of retirement to save the day.  This part bothered me more than it probably would have before I had the misfortune of "reading" the "Survivalist" series of pure crap novels by Jerry Ahern.  In those books, much like this movie, there's one lead character who is so obviously the envy of the author it makes you a little queasy, and there's everyone else who is a complete and utter nincompoop, and would be dead without the sage advice and help of the lead character.   In he film, there are army people who can't defend a base without Brad Pitt's help, doctors who can't cure diseases without Brad Pitt's help, heads of state who can't run a country without Brad Pitt's help, a family who can't stay in an apartment without Brad Pitt's help, and pilots who can't fly a plane without Brad Pitt's help.  I wouldn't have been entirely shocked if one of the zombies was getting advice from Brad Pitt on how to properly bite somebody at some point.  Brad Pitt has a family in this movie.  This is worthy of note because he calls them on the phone occasionally to prove to us that he's a good guy.  They serve no other purpose in the film whatsoever.  Later on, when we get to the climax of the movie and only one person can save the day....go ahead and take a wild guess who's doing the day-saving, and who's watching him on closed-circuit tv and hugging while narrating what's going on for those of us who can't be bothered to pay attention to the plot.  Here's a hint:  the answers are "Brad Pitt," and "Frickin' Everyone Else,"...respectively.

Overall, I would give this movie more stars than any Nicolas Cage film, but fewer than a movie that most people would consider "acceptable." 


This has been another edition of Jeremy Is In The Theatre.

I've Still Never Been To Belize

Remind me to ask them about the thing

Yeah...and don't forget that thing with the guy in the place.

That's pretty much the point.  I needed a way to remind myself to talk to the guy about the thing that we talked about a little while back.  I thought it would be a good idea for him to bring the thing to the thing since it will be a good time.  

Only problem is that I knew I would forget, since that's the sort of thing I do.  I forgot to start the dishwasher yesterday.  Also, I forgot to bring my new box of tea bags to work with me today, even though I left it on the ledge right next to my keys so that there was no way I'd forget about it...and yet, there it is.  So lest I forget to talk to them about the thing, I reminded myself in jaunty Sametime Status form.  Now, if nothing else, I have people pinging me at various times throughout the day reminding me to talk to them about the thing.  They have no clue what they're talking about, but at least it's helpful for me.  And after all...isn't that what Sametime Statuses are really all about? 

In Star Trek, They Can Compensate For This Joke

Yes, I made a Heisenberg Uncertainty Principle joke.  Yes, I feel good about it

Nerd.

Well, yes...maybe a little.   

There's no "maybe" here.  If you're making a Heisenberg joke that has nothing to do with Bryan Cranston, you're a nerd.  That's just how it works.

So not long ago, we were having a discussion at work about green energy.  Specifically, how most people now have the option of selecting the company who generates the electricity used in their homes.  This is a weird concept, because only one company delivers it, but you can choose the supplier.  But it's electricity...nothing more than the alternating flow of electrons moving back and forth...so how exactly it is that they're able to distinguish who generated which power is a bit of a mystery to me.  And I'm an engineer.  

That's basically how the work discussion went, and one of the coworkers explained how he had picked a certain company since they used renewable methods to generate electricity.  He announced that his electrons were green and asked what color mine were.  I replied that I didn't know because I didn't know where they were.  I only cared about how fast they were moving.  

I'm awesome.  

What A World! What A World!

Forget working from home, I need to figure out a way to work from a swimming pool

You can always settle for working near a pool.  Just have a little table on the deck with your laptop on it and a fun umbrella drink.  Good times!

Close, but no cigar.

Most places don't allow smoking by the pool.

Regardless, it's been so hot the last couple of days (while I was playing a volleyball tournament, too) that I'd just like to be in a pool right about now.  Unfortunately, my work laptop isn't waterproof, so I'm stuck in the office rather than in the swim.    Also, no fun umbrella drinks at work, either. 

Overthinking Sucks

It seems wrong that my thoughts are, “I need to mow the lawn since I won’t see it” 

We can only hope that you'll be seeing it while mowing.  You really should pay attention during that step, you know.

So this weekend is the annual Pottstown Rumble volleyball tournament in sunny Pottstown Pennsylvania.  I'm going.  I'll be playing.  Hopefully, I'll win a few games while I'm at it, but regardless, everybody gets ice cream and the satisfaction of a job well done.  Since I'll be away for the weekend, I realized I need to mow the lawn in advance, lest I come back to a knee-high jungle and have to spend hours with a Scythe to get things back under control.  Seems reasonable, right?

Then, I thought...as I am wont to do...that the net effect of mowing the lawn will be so that people other than me will be seeing it while I'm away at the tournament.  This is nonsense. 

Let's Get Ready For A Conference!

I need my own theme music for when I walk into meetings

What about a Hype Crew?  You should have those too.

Can't imagine why not.  

So, when I'm at work and I walk into a meeting, people will usually look up and go, "Hi, Jeremy," in that cordial type of tone you use to greet people who walk into meetings.  It's totally serviceable, but sometimes, I feel like I deserve more.  

Pro wrestlers, on the other hand, have their name announced, then pyrotechnics go off, theme music plays, lights turn on or off and start blinking, smoke machines are going.  It's really quite exciting.  And those are pro wrestlers.  They do entertainment, and in the real hunter-gatherer sense of the world, they accomplish roughly nothing.  Granted, most of the meetings I end up attending don't accomplish a whole lot either, but that's entirely beside the point...my job matters, too.  So I should get the same treatment.  

Boxers are worse.  83% of all boxers are the champions of something or other, and walk to the ring surrounded by their entourage, at least one of which invariably is holding a championship belt high in the air, instead of around the boxer's waist, where ostensibly, it should be.  We can argue about how such a ludicrous percentage of boxers are champions, but that's also beside the point.  They come to the ring complete with entourages, theme music, chariots, ring announcers and all of that stuff too.  Their job?  Punch some other guy in the face.  

I can't help but to think how much more entertaining all of our jobs would be if we would walk into a conference room, complete with music, flashing lights, and a public address announcer calling out our names as we walked in.  All of a sudden, meetings would be far better places to be, rivalries would develop, stars would be born, and who knows...maybe even my picture on an engineering-themed Wheaties box.  

I just have to hope nobody punches me in the face or hits me over the head with a steel chair.  

Batman Hates This Song

It’s 2013, and I finally realized that “pompatus” isn’t a real word

Good job, Jeremy.  Just don't ask us to start calling you Maurice.

I'm an amateur writer.  I write stupid crap on a blag every now and again, and I've written short stories, and everyone knows I should be a sitcom writer, but at present, it's a hobby.  I'm not a professional writer.  I'm not sure I could be a professional writer, since I'm not sure what all that would entail, and I'm also not sure how to get paid enough to do it without putting in more time than I usually have available.  So I'm pretty much at a crossroads there.  Regardless, being a writer, I have at least a working knowledge of words and the English language.  This, despite the internet's best efforts to destroy my brain cells through Failblog posts, Craigslist advertisements, and Youtube comments.  The world is a dangerous place for those who are cursed with linguistic intelligence.  

That said, every now and again, I come across a word in my travels that I don't know.  Often, I can figure out the general idea of the word through context, but not always.  On those other occasions, I resort to either looking up the word, pretending I do actually know what it means, despite not having a clue, or simply ignoring it and hoping it goes away.  I guess for the last however long it's been since I first heard the song, I used one of the latter two methods there during the song "The Joker" by the Steve Miller Band.  

During the first verse of the song, the singer proclaims to "speak of the pompatus of love."  I don't know what pompatus means, but rather than have people think less of me by admitting I don't know what pompatus means, I didn't make a big deal of it.  I just let people believe I was aware of the word and moved on.  After all....it's just a song, and it will go away in (on average) 4 minutes and 2 seconds.  So not long ago, I decided to confront this minor hole in my knowledge base and look up the word Pompatus.  Turns out, it's not a word.  What the crap, Steve Miller!?  Turns out everybody else was doing the same thing I was, and pretending to know what that word meant and secretly wondering if everyone else was smarter than them.  Well, no more! 

I've Always Wondered What He Knew

I wonder if Bill Withers considered the possibility that maybe there Ain’t No Sunshine simply because it’s raining

I know, I know, I know, I know, I know, I know, I know, I know, I know, I know.

Today's Sametime Status is brought to you courtesy of Mother Nature, who has decided to ignore the fact that I had plans for today and dump a massive deluge of rain across the Greater Jeremy Area. 

I know, I know, I know, I know, I know, I know, I know, I know, I know, I know.

In his hit song, "Ain't No Sunshine," Bill Withers speculates that the reason for the lack of sunshine is the fact a girl has gone away.  It seems to be coincidental that he only notices the lack of sunshine when she's gone, though.  It's entirely possible that there are times without sunshine when she's there.  This is a clear case of the "Post hoc, ergo proptor hoc" fallacy.  I'm forced to Call Bunk on his theory.

I know, I know, I know, I know, I know, I know, I know, I know, I know, I know.

In thinking about this, I was compelled to come up with an alternative theory.  I submit to Mr. Withers that Ain't No Sunshine simply because it's raining, and the rain is the reason that you find yourself noticing the lack of sunshine.  When it's just cloudy, there's nothing really to divert your attention to the fact that there Ain't No Sunshine, and the event goes by the wayside.  

I know, I know, I know, I know, I know, I know, I know, I know, I know, I know.

 

Jeremy Is Number One!

If there isn’t a trophy for “Best Trophy Maker,” then there should be

Maybe they just award him a ribbon.

So today's Sametime Status comes to you courtesy of one of those lunchtime conversations you have with coworkers that just goes completely off the rails.  

Not long ago, we were discussing the time-honored tradition of rewarding achievements with trophies, and how the concept has gotten completely watered down in recent times.  We all know that now, everybody gets a trophy just for participating so that they feel good about themselves and assume they did a god job no matter how horrendously they actually did.  The Wussification of America, if you will....and I do.  

It got me thinking if there was a group of people that adjudicates how well trophy makers do their jobs.  You can find trophies for just about anything, from spelling, to debating, cooking, sports, even Reading.  No, you do not get a trophy for reading my Blag.  You get the satisfaction of a job well done, and of knowing you did your best.  

We don't have much of a budget here.

It would stand to reason that Some Trophy Makers are better than Others when it comes to aesthetics.  Since we give out trophies for everything else, why not have a trophy for best trophy?  Of course, if your trophy for the best trophy was your trophy, then you could ostensibly get to just take your own trophy and have turned the entire thing into a completely worthless exercise.

Much like reading this website.

I wouldn't say it was completely worthless.  This whole spiel was an excuse to post This Video, so it's not a total loss.  

Just Like The Time The Commisar Was In Town

There just aren’t enough days where I have “The Safety Dance” stuck in my head

Did you not wear a hat today? 

I roughly never wear a hat to work, so indeed, today I am hatless.  

I refer, of course, to the group "Men Without Hats" who recorded "The Safety Dance."  Ironically, they sometimes wear hats when performing on stage.  

Now that just makes no sense.

Neither does having "The Safety Dance" stuck in your head, but I assume that's beside the point entirely.

Of course.  What is important to note today is that this morning started off well, with "The Safety Dance" running through my head.  Naturally, it had nothing to do with hearing the song.  There was a line in my current audio book about "leaving his friends behind" or something like that.  Where else could that possibly lead?  

The sad part is that now I have to rewind that section of the audio book, because I don't know what happened after that line.  I was too busy singing.  

Anyway, since "The Safety Dance" was written as a protest against club bouncers not allowing a dance called "Pogoing," I thought it only appropriate to let everyone watch This Video of pogo stick accidents.  Caution, there are some language issues in the video, as you might expect from a fail compilation like this.  Enjoy!   

Not Really. Please Don't Arrest me.

Okay...so the NSA now knows I’ve called in to a bunch of telecons

They also know how long you were dialed in.  You're in trouble now.

So, if you've been living in a hole for the last couple days, you should know that not long ago, it was discovered that the government (pronounced "GUM-mint") has forced a major phone carrier to supply call records to the NSA for some reason or another.  I'm sure it's perfectly valid.  

I'm not going to waste anybody's time here and delve into a political discussion about whether or not this is an invasion of privacy, an unintended consequence of an old law that was hastily put into place during an overtly reactionary time, or yet another assault on our freedom from a fascist dictator (Thanks, Obama!).  That's for 24-hour news networks to manufacture outrage over.  I'm just going to point out that all the government got out of me is a bunch of work telecons.

See, through nobody's fault, I've had some trouble with my phone at work lately.  It creates a remarkably loud buzzing noise that interrupts any sort of business-related discussion I'm having.  It's pretty annoying.  So, while I waited to have it fixed (and, in theory the issue is resolved now, so I should be done with this once and for all), I've had to call in to all of my work telecons using my cell phone.  This smart phone just happens to be on the carrier whose data was turned over to the feds.  So, I can safely say that they've got nothing on me...all of my shady dealings are done in person.  It's just a smarter way of doing business.  

Still Batting Below Mendoza

I can assure you that I am not on the list of baseball players about to be suspended

Yes, but are you on the list of Blag writers to be suspended?  Some of us could use that, I think.

Nope.  Just little ol' me.  As far as I know, I'm not being suspended in the foreseeable future.  

So not long ago, reports started to surface that Major League Baseball, the organization that has done more to destroy baseball in the last 15 years than any other, has threatened to suspend a long list of players for up to 100 games for violations of the league's substance abuse policy.  This coming after Major League Baseball has threatened to suspend most of those same players numerous times for violations of the league's substance abuse policy.  

See, the last time this list of players surfaced, it was in conjunction with a small pharmaceutical company in Florida.  This company was said to have provided steroids and other illegal substances to certain players.  Those players' identities were discovered when a list was "leaked" to the media.  The league threatened to suspend those players.  Those players laughed at the accusation saying that there was no real evidence, and they were right.  

Yesterday, it was announced that the owner of the aforementioned small pharmaceutical company would cooperate with Major League Baseball's investigation of the events, which would mean providing all of the evidence that the league was looking for in order to suspend the aforementioned players.  None of the players are laughing just yet.  When the investigation is concluded, a fairly lengthy list of players is expected to be suspended, there will be a long line of lawyers at the commissioner's door seeking to appeal or reduce those suspensions, and the whole ordeal will provide one more laughing stock to the joke that is Major League Baseball.  

At least, I can rest assured that my name isn't on that list. 

Now I Want To Watch That Episode Of Scrubs

It’s Password Day!  My email password is no longer “t1nybubb13z”

Everybody loves a Don Ho Classic!

For some reason, Don Ho doesn't look like I expected him to.    I guess I was expecting something more like a Israel Kamakawiwoʻole look.  Don't know why.  Anyway, I suppose that's not exactly relevant to anything. 

What is important is that my productivity will be slightly impacted for the next month or so while I have to type my password twice all the time because I enter the old one first every friggin' time.  I wish I was exaggerating that, but I'm sadly not.  I've already done that at least half a dozen times today.

I guess what's also important is that I note here that neither this nor any of the passwords listed in my famous Password Day posts have ever been my actual email password.  Not that it matters, because they would have been replaced anyway, but in case you wanted to discern some kind of pattern to them and guess what the next one will be.  At least I didn't use some strangely common password like correct horse battery staple or anything...that would be silly...or maybe better?  

"I Should Have Yelled Two"

I have successfully injured myself on a putting green

Because just having a "golfing injury" wasn't good enough.

I can certainly admit that this isn't the manliest of maladies, but it is nonetheless true.  I actually managed to injure my finger while putting on a practice green not long ago.  It was super.  

So what did you do?  Sprain an angle tripping over a golf ball?  Hit yourself in the head with an errant putter?  

I cut my finger on one of the flags.  

Sounds like a lengthy stay on the DL to me.  Is surgery required?  

So, unbeknownst to me, the flag on one of the holes was attached to the pole by means of glue.  The glue left a rather sharp point sticking out, and when I grabbed it to retrieve my golf balls, the point poked me.  It did so enough to draw a small drop of blood and to basically be annoying and make me think...hmm....this would make for a good Sametime Status.