Blazing good game

(I wrote this review on some game site because I really, really enjoy this game and it hasn't gotten the love it deserves!!)
This game has been a very pleasant surprise. My son bought it on a lark while we were out looking for one of those other $50 "A" games.

The first thing to be aware of about this game is that it is a challenge.
I like that in a video game, but young children would probably become frustrated with a game this difficult. Of the 20 missions in the main campaign of the game, there were many that I had to play multiple times to complete. The missions are challenging from the beginning and, still, they get harder and harder, so that the game remains engaging even after you have acquired some skill in it. Several missions introduce new skills and challenges, like landing a disabled plane or a high speed chase through a narrow crevasse. The campaign was just great and took me many hours over a couple of months to complete. (Granted, I have a job!)

Even once you've finished the campaign, you will want to go back and replay missions. One reason for this is that if you do particularly well on a mission you get a medal. All of the medals seem to be real historical American or English medals. I really liked that and the many other historical aspects of the game. All of the campaign missions themselves are historically based and in chronological order, and all begin with a short movie that has narration while showing an animated map of the main action. All of the planes are historical as well and include brief descriptions of the plane's reputation. Most of the planes are unlocked by advancing in the campaign. And another part of the fun is replaying the early missions with a later, more advanced craft.

In addition to the main campaign, there are the ace duels, arcade mode, and the mini-campaigns, each of which give various upgrades to the planes when completed successfully. And, of course, there is the head-to-head mode where you can dog-fight another player! (Split-screen, not on-line.)

There are many other great aspects to this game, like the wing-man commands, the follow camera, the ing and rocket missions. One thing I never tried is some of the alternate controller configurations -- some of which appear to be more realistic and maybe more difficult, but with better control I expect. For example, you can't really do barrel rolls with the default "arcade" controller configuration.

I like everything about this game. But I've got to reiterate the important thing: it is just plain a blast to play. ... And chase, and run, and blow up lots of stuff!

Dumb Bunnies

You could almost call it an infestation in my neighborhood now. ... The important thing is to see them before the dog does at night or he'll chase and jerk your shoulder.

I took this photo in my own front yard. (Yes, I need to cut the grass.)

My favorite beers

I can't even say what exactly my criteria is for this list. Cost plays a factor, but a small one. I'll pay for the good stuff. Availability is important, too -- if I can't get it at the grocery store, I'm not making a special trip for beer. (Might as well be drinking alone?) Really, I mostly need this list as a reminder. Sometimes, my wife is going to the store and asks me what I want. So, here it is, with short comments.

Samuel Adams Boston Lager
Best all-around beer.

Harp
A great everyday beer. It's flavorful and malty but not heavy.

Peroni
A paler, lighter beer that really, really does taste great. A bit on the pricey side, though.

Kalik
This is a very pale beer that is not found at the grocery store (not mine anyway). I had it at the beach this year. I would describe it like this: what if someone took Corona and made it really good.

Samuel Adams Boston Ale / Anheuser Busch American Ale
In a big surprise Anheuser makes the list! Their new American Ale is great and easily on a par with S.A.'s Boston Ale. Anheuser's other attempts at real beer have been weak (Amberbock: bleh.) These are heavier. (These share a spot because they're very alike and the S.A.B.A. is hard to get by itself.)

Dos Equiis Amber
The standard for ambers.

Samuel Adams Scotch Ale
Has some bite to it. Wish I could get this by itself.

Pilsner Urquel
The original pilsner. Worth the money.

Warsteiner
Another great everyday beer. Not too light, not too heavy, just right.

Tecate
A great paler beer, featuring flavor!

So, what did I miss? My tastes change over time and I may return and update this when it happens next. Go for the good stuff!

review: Night at the Museum: Battle

Do whatever you can to miss this awful movie. Pretend you're sick if necessary.

About movie ratings

I've read the movie reviews of one James Bowman for many years. Mr. Bowman is as much a cultural critic as he is a movie critic. I love his reviews and usually learn something more from them than just whether I should see the movie or not.

In addition to being a wonderful writer and incisive thinker, Mr. Bowman has identified a major flaw in the traditional 5 star movie rating system. You can read his explanation on his own site, of course. Here I'll give my thoughts and explain why I use the same system.

Five stars are much more than are needed. All it really accomplishes is to capture one man's opinion of the fine shades of mediocrity that we encounter in most movies today. What exactly is the difference between a 3-star movie and a 2-star movie, anyway? One is merely pretty crappy and the second very crappy, I suppose. But, this is no longer part of a useful critique; rather it is a sort of consolation prize for movie-makers who rose above the awful to make something merely unremarkable.

To the point then, the system I'll use here only has three possible ratings:

• Two Stars : Wonderful. Must see.
• One Star : Good. Worth seeing.
• Zero : The usual crap.
  

And to be clear, the default is zero. Time is valuable. If a movie is just "O.K.", then I will give it no stars. I will only give it a higher rating if I would actually recommend to my friends that they see it.

Having read many of Mr. Bowman's reviews, something that sticks out is his view that Hollywood is a business. (Well, obviously.) And, their biggest customers are teenagers. Ergo, a large number of movies are adolescent pablum. And, even when a movie is not obviously so, I believe that quality is often secondary to keeping the pipeline full of new movies. Understand this and you'll understand why you often leave the cinema disappointed.

So, be careful: You can never get a refund for two hours of your life.

"bumpkiss" is bubkes

This is my first entry into the field of linguistic research! I was reading a Yiddish glossary the other day. I wanted to see if "meshuginah" was really a Yiddish word or just something that Stephan Pastis had made up. (Turns out it is a real word and it means "a crazy person.") I ran across an entry for "babkes," meaning "nothing; beans." In a moment of immediate inspiration, I thought, "Yes, like 'bumpkiss.'" And, then, I realized these words must be related. I set off on researching "babkes".

First thing I found is that it's spelled in many different ways. Brace yourself. From three sources, I found 7 different spellings:

1. babkes *
2. bupkis *
3. bupkes
4. bobkes
5. bubkes *
6. bopkes
7. bupkus

The first was from the Yiddish glossary, the next 5 came from Wikitionary (which prefers "bupkis") and the last one was added by Merriam-Webster On-line (which, nevertheless, preferred "bubkes"!).

Well, believe me, I stopped digging right there. I don't want to know any more ways to spell this bloody word! Ongapatchka.

So, I went to Wikipedia and looked into word formation. After a bit of reading, I've concluded that this is a case of phonetic matching. The original "bubkes" is awkward to the English tongue and just morphed into the compound of familiar matching words "bump" and "kiss". I might also theorize that the word "bumpkin" influenced the evolution by making the "-ump-ki-" combination familiar.

I don't know what constitutes proof in the world of etymology. I have found an intermediate form: "bupkiss" and I feel very confident in my basic explanation. (Any further research on my own part would no longer be fun. And, I'm getting paid bumpkiss to do this.)

I've used "bumpkiss" for years and never had any idea. A web search will show I'm not the only one. Still, being a linguistic reactionary, I'm now going to try to start using the original, Yiddish word. I'm thinking "bubkes". (If you're going retro', you might as well distinguish yourself from the neologism and lose the 'p'.)

Nevertheless, I'm believe that "bumpkiss" is here to stay and I call on everyone to add it to their dictionary.

review: Burn After Reading

Perhaps the grandest farce that I've seen come out of Hollywood. I laughed out loud. And yet, almost miraculously, it's populated with realistic characters, with real foibles and (oftentimes) real hearts.

It gets my highest rating.

Broken mouse?

My daughter comes into the den to tell me something the other day. She never waits for the commercial either. She just starts blabbing. As if whatever she has to say is more important than "Seinfeld" re-runs.

So says she: "The mouse is broken. I move it and nothing happens."

I say, "Well, ...." Then she interrupts, "And, it's really plugged in, I checked." Good one! She remembered one of the troubleshooting steps from the last time around.

This is a Windows machine, the kid's machine. (... Uh, not that we're terribly well-off or anything. It's just that I love my computer. I love my computer like some men love their power tools or their car. And, I was really tired of the sticky keyboard and the little finger-smudges on my monitor.)

So, the cure-all for 99% of all Windows problems is simply to reboot. It can be tricky to reboot XP from the login screen without a working mouse. You just hit tab until it highlights the "Turn off computer-name" button in the bottom left corner, then hit enter and you get the turn-off/restart dialog which has underlined hot keys.

But, no!, rebooting does not work this time. And, I was feeling so damn clever showing the kids how I could work a computer without the mouse!! ... I'm a little flummoxed at this point, I admit. But, I keep my cool. The trick to computer troubleshooting is to break things down into the basics. So, I try moving the mouse left and right. Nothing. I try moving it up and down. Nope, cursor doesn't budge. So, I try moving it around in little circles. Yeah, little circles, that's just the thing. Still -- NOTHING! And -- although it makes no sense at all -- I was a little surprised that the little circles didn't work. You see, that's where my steely nerves, nonsensical optimism, and suave, Bond-like, good humor under-fire paid off. After the "little circles" plan failed, I immediately picked the mouse up to give it a good hard what-the-h3ll-is-wrong-with-you look. During this psychic interrogation, I turned the mouse over and what did I see? Not the red laser light that I was expecting. I saw a yellow, smiling face, a sticker to be precise. A small child's sticker that was completely covering the light-emitting/motion-sensing orifice of this poor, innocent, and completely functional mouse.

We didn't exactly have to dust for prints on this one. The six year old boy had been kind of hanging around to see what was going on. Really, I don't think he remembered putting that sticker on until I turned it over. And, then he was kind of lurking around the chair to see how I'd react. (The little sweetheart was probably still thinking he had deniability, in the case that things went badly. I love kids.) Anyway, I laughed my rear-end nearly off. I called in my wife and the other children to see and they laughed, too. You should have seen the little guy beaming at his clever joke -- and doubly so when I broke out the camera to record it for posterity. I suppose we shouldn't be rewarding him for sabotaging computer peripherals. But, come on, he irritated his big sister and greatly amused his father all at once. I've rarely been so proud.

Nail too close

I was doing some screen repair on our porch where the dog ran through it. He didn't really scratch it up so much as he walked right through it. (He was such a cute puppy but has grown into a monster.) The old screen was pretty simple: cut to size, stapled up, and then some molding was nailed over the staples. So, I got this fancy new dog proof screen (actually works, too) together with screw-on plastic tracks that you spline the new screen into.

To the point then: I wanted all of the old nails out. But, there's this one near the corner that slipped through the molding when I removed it and this guy is snuggled up in a corner where he just can't be pried out (picture above). It's a smallish finish nail with a very narrow head or I might have been able to work something out.

In retrospect, I probably could have just driven it in all the way, flush with the wood, and been done with it. It would have been out of the way (with 99% certainty). But, that plan didn't occur to me -- I took out the others and I wanted this booger gone, too. ... This sort of obstinate perfectionism might be the reason that the simplest home-fix-it jobs seem to take me about triple the time they do other people.

I suppose some of the (many) stories of my various home-fix-it disasters and mishaps might be better reading. At least more amusing. But, today, I revel in my triumph. Brain has bested brawn once again and I removed the nail with ease and without the slightest bit of damage to the surrounding wood. I had mentally reviewed and rejected several plans that all resulted in terrible gashes and gouges. (Guess how I already knew that those other plans would have gone badly.)

The problems were that the nail head was too small and the hammer claw too greatly curved. (Coming at it from 90 degrees off the angle in the first picture was impossible because the board was in the way of the handle.) The solution, pictured here, was just to grip the head with pliers and then use a pry bar to lever the pliers.

Junior learns to crawl

Crawling may sound like a good and wonderful thing, but it's not. It's terrible. ... All of this time you've known that if you put the child down somewhere he would stay there. Now, you turn around for a second and he's gone. Welcome to hell.

Clicking a bird

One of my sons got binoculars with a built-in digital camera for Christmas. My younger son got a cheapie digital camera, too. These things won't just show up as a removable USB drive on the computer. You have to install the software that comes with them. Ugh, more junk software on my computer, just what I need. Thank you, Santa.

So, I finally get the blasted software to work and recognize the camera. First I installed it. That wasn't enough. Didn't help if I plugged in the camera first or if I started the software first. Then, finally, I had the Windows new hardware wizard search for the drivers, but not on the web and not on the CD*. Incredibly, this worked and the next time around the software could find the camera. I guess it found the drivers that the software had installed (in the wrong place). Clearly, the boneheads in China that developed this stuff have not heard of Windows XP! (*I had a bad experience with trying to let Windows install the drivers directly from the CD with another cheapie kid's camera. Yeah, I know that was dumb.)

Now, let us view the first work of my wildlife photographer, prodigy son. ... OK, buddy, let's try to hold still while we're taking the picture. There were many like this first one. This particular one I thought looked pretty cool so we saved it anyway. And, I don't mind. It gives me a chance to talk about exposure times and other technical camera stuff that I know little about, but sounds really intelligent. (And, you don't want to try that crap with adults. Could backfire.)

But, I've got to hand it to him, he did come up with one pretty good one. Check this out. Very nice. Some sort of woodpecker maybe. I say it's a sapsucker. Mainly because I just like to say "sapsucker."

Anyway, there's more. There's always more. Now he wants to know what all of these different birds are. Come on. They're birds! They're all the same. It doesn't matter if you call it a black-capped chickadee or a tufted starling. All they do is fly around, wake me up too early, and then relieve themselves all over my damn car.

Fear not. I didn't tell the boy that. It will be many years yet before his natural sense of wonder and curiosity are finally crushed like a dumb squirrel under an Expedition. (... I mean, the squirrel was three quarters of the way across the street. Why did he turn around!?)

I don't know how the kid found out about these special books where they list all the different birds with pictures. Maybe his darn natural sense of curiosity and wonder again. But, it looks like I'm fixing to be out ten bucks.

Stra! Tee! GOOO!!

Stratego! The post title recalls the Stratego television commercial jingle of my childhood. Great commercial. Really great game. I got it for Christmas. You didn't. :P

So, I just played it again today for the first time in very many years. I beat a ten year old. And, I mean I wiped the map with him. I want you to know that I read him the strategy tips in the instructions. But, he wasn't listening much at that point. Big mistake. So, he made the rookie error of locking all of his highest ranking pieces on the back rows. I sent in a Major -- a mere major! -- and cut him to ribbons. He's moving all these pieces around trying to get a colonel out to stop me. Where could he move them? Right into Major Meatgrinder -- there was no other place to go.

I suppose I could have taken it easy on the child; at least let it be close. But, that's just not me. I feel like integrity demands that you give every opponent your best game in every contest. (And, my fragile, battered ego refuses to pass up any victory, no matter how small.)

Anyway, the boy is a good sport and he's ready to go again tomorrow. He's definitely internalized the strategy tip of keeping some firepower on the front.

I might try an older opponent. Then again, I may build my confidence first by whipping up on the ten year old a few more times.

Banana Yin Yang

God has smiled on me today. Two bananas, practically identical in size and shape, except one is a little ripe and another is a little green. So, I like bananas, big deal. But, my joy comes from the inspiration that I had to photograph these beauties to share with you. Enjoy. (... Much as I did the ripe one shortly after this picture was taken.)


"All things have their opposite. Though, this is relative. No one thing is completely Ripe or completely Green. Each contains the seed of its opposite. The Ripeness and the Greenness should be kept in balance. ... Otherwise, your little sister will cry when she must eat an over ripe, black banana."
(Liberally adapted from wikipedia)

The Lonely Hair

So, I'm walking through the den one saturday morning. My daughter points at me and says, "Hey, what's that bald spot on your head?"

The child is given to outbursts of dubious propriety, so by itself, this really meant nothing. My wonderful wife, however, was sitting on the couch at the time and instantly burst into raucous laughter. I mean she held her stomach, she gasped, she convulsed. The woman very nearly fell on the floor she was laughing so hard. Again, by itself, this wouldn't mean so much. Perhaps she has an impaired sense of humor. But, there's more.

For some years now, I've harbored a deep suspicion that my forehead was growing. The first time I noticed that something may be amiss, I think I was getting out of the shower and left my wet hair slicked back and accidentally saw myself in the mirror. "Hmm. That doesn't look right." Now, I can't recall if I went straight to my wife for an objective opinion that first time. But, the seed of doubt was planted. Over the next couple of years I would go many times to my trusted life partner, holding back my hair, thusly,


... and saying, "See here. The genetically inevitable calamity has begun. Woe is me." (My actual words may have been less dramatic and more panicked, like, "Honey! Honey, look. My hair!") But, no, she reassured me, nothing has changed. Time after time she told me that it's the same as it ever was. And, "You're being silly." ... It was an easy sell, really. That's what I wanted, desperately, to believe.

But, on that fateful Saturday morning, when my daughter asked about "the bald spot" and my wife laughed until she cried, then! then was the truth laid bare!

O, thou treacherous woman.

Now, here's the kicker. After this episode, which immediately set off a fresh round of close forehead inspections on my part, my darling wife actually had the gall to try to keep up her ruse. She said, it was just the funny look on my face at the time that caused her to be so amused. Just how gullible are men, anyways? I suppose one must consider that she may merely have been trying to forestall some sort of mid-life crisis. One might then take her deception as an act of kindness. (I don't.)

But, I admit, I'm not exactly Mr. Clean. Yet. There might still be room for argument. But, I can't go on that way. The matter must be settled. That way I can at least gripe about the (thankfully) glacial expansion of my forehead without being called silly. So, I'm on the case. With a renewed sense of certainty, the forehead inspections finally turn up the smoking gun. No more quibbling; no more looking for old pictures. I spotted the Lonely Hair.

Clearly, the hair on one's head all grows thickly together. Ah, but that's not necessarily the way it falls out. One by one, the little guys finally succumb to the ravages of time and go up to the floor of that great barbershop in the sky.

Case Closed

Looking at the Lonely Hair, once surrounded by comrades and now a good quarter of an inch away from his nearest fellow, we can say with certainty that IT has begun.

Hang in there little buddy. Hang on!!

baldness

Passing thoughts on marital bliss

No matter what woman you marry, she'll always end up being a wife.

I think my wife hates money. She's always trying to get rid of it.

My wife asked me, "Does this dress make me look fat?" I said, "Don't blame it on the dress, baby."

They say that a fool and his money are soon parted. But, a husband and his money sometimes never even meet.

If you want to know what she really thinks, marry her.

What about floss?

There are a few things my wife is not allowed to buy. Number one on the list is toothpaste. (Computer software and kites are in the top five.) Our household's "tube per capita" is now four. I don't know how this happened.

I'm starting to think that the kids just don't like to brush their teeth and it has nothing to do with the brand or flavor of the toothpaste. Every problem has a solution -- and like a good all-American mother, my wife knows that the solution is in a store somewhere. Yes, you may be tempted to think that my family has the cleanest teeth in town. Don't. If the solution really is in a store, it's in some other store that my wife never goes to.

With so many different choices there must be one that the kids like. I think there's a couple that they can tolerate. "Blueberry bubblegum blast" was not one of them. So, following the precedent set by so many vegetables in this house, it falls to me to dispose of the blue stuff. It grows on you. The real satisfaction comes from stopping my money from going straight to the trash can. The pictures on the tube are OK, too.

Some days I take a break and use an adult toothpaste. I mean, I've got a giant toothpaste buffet in my bathroom! Would be a waste to not try some different stuff.

Like any all-American dad, I'm cheap. Sorry. It's one of my major life goals to get my money's worth and finish all of this toothpaste. But, I use such small toothpaste blobs. It takes me a long time to finish a tube! And, it's not like the kids are any help. ... With so many tubes, though, how can I ever be sure that she didn't slip a new one in there some where?

 

Not so merry ...

Was this really necessary?

Ah, it's that time of year. Snowy mornings, hot cider, candy canes, Christmas carols. And, small, terrified children. All year long we want them to stay away from strangers. Then all of the sudden we throw them into a stranger's lap and try to take pictures.

I have three children and at least a dozen "with Santa" pictures of them. Every single one of them contains at least one small child of mine who is usually screaming, but at the very least horrified. ... Mortified even. I'm thinking particularly of one year when my daughter (eldest child, and only at that time) went to see Santa. She didn't cry, but she was so obviously, incredibly uncomfortable. Like she wasn't sure yet if we were leaving her with the obese, red-suited freak or not.

But, there's a happy ending. They all got over it.

What is "burbatory"?

You've probably heard of suburban hell. Well, I'm convinced that, unlike hell, it doesn't last forever. It's not hell, it's suburban purgatory, which I have named "burbatory." If you live in burbatory like me, the most important thing to remember is this: you deserve everything you're getting.

But, there's a silver lining. To people outside of burbatory, our pathetic lives are hilarious. That's the purpose of this page: to document my misery for the entertainment of others.