Why I Hate on Peter Jackson So Much
The shield-riding is probably not a bad place to start.
In another of my popular series, “Why I Hate on Random Shit Like TV Shows and Movies That Are Not Very Important In the Big or Even Medium-Small Scheme of Things,” I have decided to answer a question posed to me by a commenter on my last blog post. Basically, it boils down to this: as a fan of Tolkien, why do I hate on Peter Jackson so much when he brought so much of Tolkien’s vision to the big screen and mass audiences, revitalizing the genre and Tolkien’s legacy and exposing an entirely new generation to the joy and wonder of Middle-Earth?
Christ, when I put it that way I make myself feel like a crotchety misanthropic asshat who would complain about the method someone used to make me a peanut butter and jelly sandwich. Of course, I am exactly the sort of person who would be disappointed if someone incorrectly assembled such a sandwich by, say, putting the jelly directly onto the other slice of bread rather than on the peanut butter, which is the proper method for creating a peanut butter and jelly sandwich and anyone who says it is the same either way is wrong and should feel bad about themselves.
Why The Silmarillion is the Best Book Ever
Just fighting a god one-on-one, no biggie.
I know this blog is better known for screaming ranting hate and me bitching very loudly about things like cupcakes or Brad Pitt’s hair or smoke detectors and other things, but occasionally – very occasionally – I talk about things I love that are not currently being shit on by Peter Jackson and instead wax rhapsodic – or, well, as close as I can get to rhapsody at any rate – about things that bring me joy. This is one of those posts. Sorry to disappoint you guys.
Anyway, I love The Silmarillion. It’s been my favorite book since I took in the first few pages a long long time ago. I know I’m in the minority on this one. In fact, I know only one other person who agrees with me. Even people who love Tolkien and The Lord of the Rings can’t get through it at all in a lot of cases. Most people say it’s dry, it’s dull, hard to read, hard to keep track of what’s going on, etc etc yadda yadda.
I get it. It’s not written like most books. Of course, it’s not really written by Tolkien himself, since it was basically an attempt by his son Christopher to turn the vast amount of notes and work-in-progress stuff into a single cohesive narrative to share the history of Middle-Earth. But I’ve never thought of it as dry. Matter-of-fact, maybe, but there is a sort of poetry to the whole thing all at the same time. Check this out:
Blue was her raiment as the unclouded heaven, but her eyes were as grey as the starlit evening; her mantle was sown with golden flowers, but her hair was dark as the shadows of twilight. As the light upon the leaves of trees, as the voice of clear waters, as the stars above the mists of the world, such was her glory and her loveliness; and in her face was a shining light.
That’s fucking poetry, only less emo and not bullshitty like James Franco.
I Watched the World War Z Trailer. I Would Like to Take a Moment to Rage Incoherently.
Nice haircut.
Side note: yes, I know I’m a week late on The Walking Dead Episode 3. I just finished watching it this morning since I was busy last week. Plus the events of Episode 4 were surprisingly spoiled by close to a dozen people on Facebook within hours of it being shown, leaving me ambivalent for the moment. I’ll get to them. Promise. Here’s a heapin’ helpin’ of rage to tide you over.
World War Z is a book. It’s a zombie book. It was written by Max Brooks, son of Mel, who also wrote The Zombie Survival Guide. Both of them are considered essential reading by zombie aficionados for very good reasons. They are smart, well-written, and funny while treating their subject matter seriously. They are near and dear to my heart, as they are to many. Upon finishing my first zombie novel, The Curse of Troius, my dear friend and sadly passed Carl Spicer declared simply, “I’ve only read one good zombie novel, and that was World War Z.” (Sorry Carl, you know I can’t resist telling people that even though you tried to explain what you meant. It’s too good a line. Miss you, bud.) Max Brooks’ books are the literary equivalent to Romero’s cinematic influences on the entire zombie genre.
What makes World War Z special for me and many others is its story structure. Instead of focusing on a particular protagonist, the story is presented as one-on-one interviews with a wide range of people who were involved in the zombie war that ended ten years prior to the story. This allows the tale of the war to spin out in little vignettes, from its ostensible beginnings in China to its spread throughout the world and eventual conclusion, as told by the eyewitnesses to the events. The different stories highlight bravery and cowardice, self-sacrifice and self-promotion, agony and joy and despair and hope and everything in between. The eyewitnesses are neither good nor bad; they’re people, some more sympathetic than others. Reading through the novel provides the best of both worlds: the epic saga of man’s battle against the shambling hordes of the infected dead as a whole, and the harrowing and humanizing tales of the individuals swept up in it all. It is a remarkable book. If you’ve never read it, buy it here. It will not disappoint.
Rick Grimes is a Sociopath: Walking Dead Season 3 Episode 2 Recap and Review
These guys are soooo fucked.
When last we left those intrepid nomads incapable of traveling more than 2 miles in 3 months, they had cleared part of a prison to serve as Babymaking Base Alpha, sung around a campfire, hurled dog food, lurched into puberty (well, that was just Carl), learned that the infection apparently makes it impossible for their hair to grow (with the exception of facial hair and Carl), and hacked off the leg of the only person with medical experience despite having exactly no medical supplies like peroxide or alcohol or baby aspirin or, apparently, rags of any sort.
Which leads me to another question. These people who’ve been sweating and zombie-killing and digging ditches in the same exact clothes for over a year now haven’t changed their clothes at all? Seriously, fuck how bad the living dead must smell. I can only imagine the Walking Stench this group is carrying around. That shit’s nasty, guys. Find an undershirt. If they can’t be bothered to change their clothes, imagine how disgusting their breath must be. Gahh, dog food and months of plaque build-up and I’m gonna hurl if I keep going with this.
I am 23 Times More Popular in Vietnam Than Luxembourg
I’m a little bit of a stats obsessive. I love them. I think it’s one of the reasons why I enjoy football so much – stats are like the little milestones that let you say “Hey, neat, this thing that happens hundreds of times a year is slightly different than the other times!”. I don’t memorize stats, though, which is for Rain Man and baseball fans. I just like seeing them, thinking “well isn’t that interesting”, and moving on with my life. If I could have a bunch of people following me all day – or, well, maybe an app or something, because that could get creepy as hell after a while – I’d totally do it, just so I could get information about the things I do and compare them to my average score and the population at large. Couple that with an announcing team or NFL Films guy or – especially – Colby from Top Shot and I’d be in heaven. “Will you look at this! He has been urinating for 37 seconds already, well past his average time of 29.73 seconds! Could his all-time record be in jeopardy?” This would be awesome in every way.
Yes, this is another post about my blog site stats. Sorry.
The World Really Wants to Know About Sophia
Yes, they do. Yes, she is. Yes, it’s a barn.
I’ve mentioned this before, but I underestimated the burning nature of the world’s thirst for knowledge about Sophia and whether or not she was ever found. Ever since The Walking Dead’s season 3 run-up, my blog traffic has tripled. Why? Dunno. Maybe the list of Google search terms for visitors can shed some light on this:
It’s Baaaaack: Walking Dead, Season 3, Episode 1 Recap and Review
As I’ve said before, I was giddy with anticipation for the return of the world’s least capable crew of survivors. That was sarcasm, because apparently we’re saying that now. To be honest, I was terrified to see this show coming back, and it had nothing to do with jump-scares and zombie gore. No, I was terrified for another season of Carl being an idiot, Rick being indecisive, Shane being dead, T-Dog being background filler, and Lori being Lori. Well, although some things never change (cough LORI YOU USELESS HUSK OF A HUMAN BEING cough), other things have, even pleasantly so. Overall, and being totally honest here, I didn’t hate this episode. I know, right? What’s next, a sudden burgeoning love for musical theater, soccer, fried okra, flip-flops, and country music?
What I’m Dreading Most About Season 3 of The Walking Dead
The Magic Woods Ninja.
Sunday, October 14th. That’s when it’s back. The show I love to hate, full of the most dysfunctional group of addle-brained survivors of all time, comes back after an entire season spent on a farm agonizing over morning-after pills, religion, suicide, a woman’s proper role in life, love triangles, and where the fuck Carl has disappeared to and who’s gonna die because of it. Every now and again they put a zombie in it. It was not a good season. Most people agreed that it was slow and awful and dull, until the last episode seemed to make everyone forget about the horrible pacing and stupid arguments and ridiculous thought processes. Zombies! Guns! Impossible headshots and shotguns that never need to be reloaded! And then the big part, the last scene, where everyone seemed to have a collective fangasm and couldn’t stop gushing about what next season would bring. ZOMG the prison! And Michionne! Michionne! MICHIONNE!!!!!!!
Shovelcast #2: It’s Lady Gamer Night!
OK, Shovelbuddies, the long-awaited and highly-anticipated Female Gamer Perspective podcast is here! Listen as we talk gaming from tabletop to console to computer to LARP, hear my words begin to slur and giggles get drunker. Drink along at home with the Me and My Shovelcast Drinking Game listed below!
From left to right: Lisa, Lori, and Allie. Behind: Smarmy Creep.
Special thanks go out first and foremost to the participants, who were kind and generous and especially indulgent to their host, who was so nervous before the recording began that I was asked if I needed a paper bag to breathe into for a bit. Seriously. Allie, Lisa, and Lori are amazingly cool human beings who also happen to be really good at gaming – like me except for the whole “amazingly cool” part! – and I really can’t thank them enough. I would happily do another 4 or 5 of these with them.
Also, I want to thank the people who came up with questions to ask. I tried to mention the people who asked by name to give credit where credit is due. In fact, I got so many questions I couldn’t get to all of them in an hour and a half. Yes, it’s over 90 minutes long. I would have gone for 3 hours if I was allowed to. Anyway, thanks to those who submitted questions for my guests. They were much appreciated and meant that I had to do almost no work and could kick back and be lazy, which is all of the win.
Oh, and unbeknownst to me, there were two hidden cameras set up that I didn’t spot. That’s right: the women are smarter.
Click here for the downloadable mp3—> Shovelcast 2 – Ladies Night and listen as you run or ride the bus or your bike or use some other form of hippie transport.
Or you can play it in the browser right here. Up to you.
The Me and My Shovelcast Drinking Game
Take 1 drink when:
- I say something stupid
- I use the word “awesome”
- I use a 25-cent word when a 10-cent word will do
- I giggle mousily
Take 1 shot when:
- We tell Trey to do so
- I slur a word
- Whenever “immersion” is brought up
Good luck and please drink responsibly.
Dear Aravan: Your Questions, Answered
One of the best parts about having a blog is getting to see how people end up there. On a daily basis, I know how many people reached here by clicking a link on Facebook or Twitter or a different website, but the absolute best section is the Search Terms section. This tells you the weird and wonderful things people have typed into Google and somehow ended up on your site. Some things, like “bob harper” searches, are a natural fit with the blog and so it’s no surprise to get 400 or more varieties of searches in that vein in a 3 month period. Those things are fit perfectly.
It’s the other stuff that I love, though. The things that just don’t seem to be a natural fit whatsoever. They are the absolute best.
So I got an idea: why not take these bizarre and incongruous searches and turn them into a Question and Answer format, along with my most frequent searches? And when I say I “got” the idea, I mean I stole it, completely and unabashedly, from the awesome Candice Bundy. If you like dry humor with a twisting edge (and if you don’t, then what the fuck are you reading this for, anyway?), then you need to read her stuff. She’s even cool in person! (We’ve met, you see. We discussed writing in a bon vivant manner with our devil-may-care attitudes and poignant bon mots and bonded over a rational fear of scuba diving. Also, I was very drunk and may have just been shouting quotes from Revenge of the Nerds all night while she patiently put up with me.) So, here are the questions that you, the world, have asked me, and I will answer them as best I can.
Winter in Derenemyn 