WWdN: In Exile

blaze of glory

The Bet rolls on, and Annie is almost half way home, with posts three, wherein Annie comes to terms with my asskickery:

Young Wil: “Ooooo…look at me. I’m a movie and TV actor…boo bitty bee bee. I live in a fort where I battle cardassians with my Teddy Ruxbin. My best friend Shane Nickerson is coming over tonight to play truth or dare and ride Tron bikes. I really want to ask Lando Calrissian to the Spring Fling but Princess GAY-A keeps cock blocking me. Fucking Whore. Shane’s going with Boba Fette just to up his cool factor. Plus he can score some juice boxes. Did you know Shane can pound one? Oh man, he's my hero! Come on unicorn. Let’s go to the Northern Quadrant and cover an X-wing fighter with maxi pads. Boo bitty boo boo bippity boppity boo, I’m was in Stand By Me.”

Ok Wil, I’ll admit it.  I don’t know what ‘5d20 times’ means.  Nor do I know the actual size of a ‘nanosecond.’

But do you know what this means? 

Beware of my ghetto photoshop.

Elbow, double bird, and Send.

And four, where the tragic reality of a month without Nickerblog settles in and takes hold.

Nickerblog Nickerblog, boo bitty boo, 
Rest in peace nerd diggity doo.

But know this…

As you ‘unplug’ yourself, I will be hacking my way into your encrypted mind with my multi vector assault mode and GHz GHB Built-in Boot ROM A DOM DOM . Oh, I’ll find you bitch. Hiding under the covers with a penlight trying desperately to reread Harry Potter or making out with your hand to pictures of Jessica Stover.

However, for now, I mourn.

Oh, and you know what else we learned? Annie has a sister, who also has a blog:

This is Steffie, Annie's sister...the brunette in the picture up on the right hand side, holding Jesus' Favorite precious hand. Yes, I know, I was never "Jesus' FAVORITE" but you'll have to read MY blog to get THAT story (wah wah) Although I'm proud of her trashing abilities, I'm glad Wil and Shane get a taste of WHAT I HAD AS A KID, growing up in her shadow sucked.

But really, I've had a blog for months and no ones ever read MY BLOG. 
"Oh look at me, I'm Annie and I probably have over a million hits and I just started to BLOG." The counter on my blog has one hit, my dad, and he just commented that I should be more like Jesus' Favorite. But you'll have to read MY blog to get THAT story (wah wah). I mean, my sister didn't even know what a blog was until the guys made a bet with her. I tried so hard..."Annie, it's really cool, seriously, you should have your own blog." "No Steffie, that's only for nerds." So, that's the story of my life...thank GOD I have found some solace with the nerds. Playing second fiddle to Jesus' Favorite sucked. But you'll have to read MY BLOG TO GET THAT STORY. WAH FUCKING WAH.

One of these days, Annie is going to have her own show on HBO, or she'll be a cast member on SNL (even though she's really too talented to waste it on them). Some publicity jerk will make an appointment with Annie's assistant's assistant, and after waiting in the hall for six hours while Annie listens to Winger on repeat and drinks champagne out of the coke-rotted skull of Ashley Olsen, (who mysteriously died while hosting the show months earlier), that publicity jerk will be granted entrance to Annie's gold-plated dressing room. After carefully stepping over the empty wine bottles and pot bellied pigs, the publicity jerk will tell Annie, "Excuse me, Ms. Ser --"

"Don't look at me!" Annie will shout, from behind her veil.

"Sorry, sorry." The publicity jerk will say. "The network thinks it would be a great idea to synergize the audience by cromulently maximizing the interactive --"

"If you want me to start a BLOG, just ask me to start a BLOG," Annie will say, from atop her pile of plush velvet pillows. "Because I've had a BLOG since all the way back in 2005, right before Nickerson and Wheaton  . . ." Annie's voice will trail off, a tear will form, and it will slowly work its way down her cheek, cutting through inches of blush.

"It's not your fault," the publicity jerk will say, "that you were Jesus' favorite. Being the king and the duke just didn't compare. Nobody blames you for their mysterious disappearance."

The publicity jerk will offer some stock condolence, which was perfected by the network for use on Mike Meyers in 1993, and slowly back out of Annie's gold-plated dressing room. As the door closes, Annie will look down at her computer, and evil grin growing behind her crocodile tears.

Someone looking very closely may see me and Shane, trapped inside, Tron-style, silently screaming for salvation.

Annie will look at the computer and say, "You heard the publicity jerk.Write me a BLOG, and make it . . . brilliant!"

The keyboard won't make any sounds, but the words will appear, as if by magic, across the screen:

Dear Blog,
I often wonder how I got to be such a great master of blogging, and how I finally embraced my inner NERD. Well, from high atop 30 Rock in New York, while I'm waiting to go do a sketch with Rosie Perez, who is having some sort of inexplicable career revival, I'll tell you. It all started at this little theatre in Hollywood, where I was never loud enough for the back row to hear me. That's where I met the NERDS . . .

Elbow & Send.

The Art of War?

I haven't read all of The Art of War in over a decade. I think it's time I read it again.

This time around, though, I'm considering buying the audio version from iTunes Music Store. Has anyone listened to that? What do you think?

If you have a favored translation, annotated version, or other thoughts on this classic text, I'd love to hear what you think.

today

Today could have been a really, really bad day.

Instead, it's turning out to be a good day.

I just wanted to mark that fact.

As you were.

TiVo presents: a targeted word from our sponsor!

Well, I'd like to claim credit for it, but I'm sure it was already in the works when I posted this idea last night.

TiVo has already decided to give subscribers the option to receive targeted ads:

TiVo will soon offer subscribers a way to customize some of the ads they receive -- and offer advertisers a way to make sure they're targeting consumers who want what they're pitching.

The new service won't conflict with ads seen (or fast-forwarded) in live or on-demand viewing or the "showcases" of longform advertising that appear in a menu, often purchased by automakers or movie studios.

Instead, this new feature will work in much the same way TiVo subscribers create "WishLists" to find programs. But instead of Jimmy Stewart movies or TV shows about baseball, TiVo users would register a profile with the company based on their interests. Then, in a section of the TiVo menu system, they will find ads -- short- and longform -- based on their interests.

Someone in the market for a new car would find ads for cars that someone who isn't would never see, for instance.

"What we've learned is, TiVo customers want to know about new products and services but on their own time," TiVo vp national advertising sales Davina Kent said.

I dislike advertising, but it's a fact of life. Luckily, it's fairly easy to tune it out, via mute buttons and fast forwarding, but as I said yesterday, I'd be much more inclined to pay attention to advertising for products or services I care about than the bullshit they spew out of the box right now.

What I'd really like to see is some sort of advertising model with TiVo which would allow indie publishers (like Monolith Press, or Vagrant Records) to reach interested viewers at reduced rates. If I could afford it, I would absolutely advertise Monolith products to audiences I think would enjoy them, but there's no way I can afford to advertise on Family Guy or Alias. And I think that Do You Want Kids With That? would probably do very well with Oprah's audience, but that would cost me more than I make in ten years.

TiVo presents: a (targeted) word from our sponsor?

This afternoon, I wrote a story for the SG Newswire about TiVo offering a "feature" where subscribers can search for specific commercials:

No, it's not opposite day, and yes, you read that correctly. Someone at TiVo thinks that consumers really love commercials so much, they want to be able to search through their recorded content just to find them.

[TiVo] on Monday said it is working on technology that lets viewers search for specific advertisements.

The technology, which is expected to launch in early 2006, is the latest sign of the advertising industry's efforts to reach consumers who are taking advantage of high-tech products to escape the traditional ad pitch.

[. . .]

The advertising service will let subscribers search for a product by category or keyword, then TiVo would deliver matching commercials to the consumer's set-top box.

I snarkily (snarkily? Is that a word? minus ten points, Wheaton) concluded that this is a totally lame feature that nobody would ever want to use:

Soooo . . .  TiVo users complain by the tens of thousands that they want to be able to skip commercials, and TiVo gives them the ability to search for specific commercials?! Uh, okay.

TiVo must have done some market research for this feature, which leads me to wonder, who are the idiots claiming to be technology enthusiasts that TiVo talked to?

But now that it's hours later, and I've had time to reconsider my snark . . . maybe I can be one of those idiots. I had this idea: what if TiVo subscribers were able to set up some sort of "profile" where they would check off a range of interests, as well as a range of things they are positively not interested in, and advertisers could target ads to the individual subscribers? It sort of longtails advertising, right? For example, I hate car commercials and beer commercials. But I'm interested in outdoor activities, so I respond to ads from places like REI. I am not interested in the latest Tom Cruise crap-o-rama, but I really enjoy the acting styles of Mr. Johnny Depp. I know it's a long shot, and I know that the service as described (if I understand it correctly) is "client" side rather than "server" side, but wouldn't it make more sense for advertisers to serve ads to people who were more likely to use the products or services they're advertising?

I imagine that advertisers would still want to use commercials to inform consumers about new products, or new films, or whatever, and maybe there could be some auto-subscribed advertising channel which would serve anything, regardless of a subscriber's preferences. But at the end of that commercial, the subscriber could "Thumbs Up" or "Thumbs Down" the product or service, and TiVo could adjust ads served to that subscriber accordingly.

This could even open up advertising to smaller companies who can't afford to buy prime time slots that reach the entire country, but may be able to afford 50,000 buys for targeted audience members. I imagine that they'd get a better conversion on their ad sales.

There are obvious problems: privacy is the most glaring, but there are also several different demographics living in each house, so something would have to be done to adjust to the primary viewer of, say, CSI and the primary viewer of, say, Desperate Housewives, and the primary viewer of SpongeBob Squarepants.

I know that there are smarter people than me who read my blog. So what do you think? Shoot this full of holes and we'll see if there's anything left.

the cthulhu circus

(via boingboing)

look out below

Nothing pisses me off more than finding out that some jerk upset one of my kids, and there's nothing I can do about it.

I know that in the long run, the best thing I can do is offer love, understanding and support, but parents out there probably know what I'm talking about; that feeling of helplessness sucks, and makes me stabby.

Yeah-heah-heah-ha-ha-hah-heaaah!

I played poker last night at Commerce with a one-armed Chinese man, a drug dealer, and Shane Nickerson.

His fingernails were stained black, the same color as his black Los Angeles Dodgers cap. His huge adam's apple pushed out against two or three days worth of stubble. His blue eyes were bloodshot and pinned, and when he walked up to the table, he bounced his head around, pealed a one hundred dollar bill off a thick gangster roll from his pocket, and said, "Yeah-heah-heah-ha-ha-hah-heaaah!" He was one of the worst players I've ever seen, and that wad of bills came out of his pocket for several rebuys while I was there.

While it's very convenient to play online, one of the major benefits of playing live poker is seeing characters like Suckout Guy and One Armed Man. Shane and I also saw a guy in a floor-length oilskin duster who had a Texas Rangers star to accompany the feather on his fedora, as well as a gaggle of outrageously hot girls in too-tight cowboy shirts. The guy in the 8 seat at our table says he took the SAT with me at Granada Hills High about sixteen years ago, and at one point stacked up over $500 in front of him by making boat-over-boat.

The Bet, day two

Annie (who is not my wife and partner-in-crime Anne, but is my friend and ACME dance partner Annie) has updated her blog, Jesus' Favorite.

annie writes:

"hey wil old buddy funny guy,

do i get a day off from the blog cuz of the holiday? i asked duke nickerson and he said no.  but I thought i'd try you cuz you’re way cooler and stuff.

xo,
jesus' favorite "

ELBOW AND SEND
WAIT FOR RESPONSE

Nothing.

STILL WAITING…

He’s probably making pie and blogging about it.

Wil:  “Blog blog I love pie blog blog I went to the store blog blog I’m hot."

LEAVE COMPUTER
GO DO NON-NERD THING

Time passes...

GO BACK TO COMPUTER
CHECK EMAIL
PUT ON SHEILD TO AVOID NERD TRACTOR BEAM

Well, look at that Jesus!  King Wheat-Thin responds:

wil wrote:

    "Let me stop petting my Ewok and adjust my cape. Just  a moment.

    *ding ding boop bleep dingiddy whoop whoop DING!*

    Okay, the HAL9000 mark IV dual hyperthreaded comptromotron says no, you have to     update it every day for a week…"

Argh!  Double nerd negated.  And by big words no less.   Does that shit get you laid?

Anyway, FIIIIIIIIIIINNNNNNE.  I’ll fucking post on a holiday.

This is the best bet I've ever won in my life. I may be the King, and Shane may be the Duke, but Annie is clearly teh funnay.

Another round goes to Sertich. Shane, we're getting our asses kicked . . . by a girl.

untitled late night post number nine

I'm writing this last night, which is actually right now, but is also last night. Hooray for TypePad's "publish this later" thingy!

Still with me?

Okay. I have to stay up another 90 minutes or so while my punkin pies cook. I'm taking them to my brother's house for dinner tomorrow. Why did I just put them in the oven at 10:15 PM? I'm glad you asked. Because I didn't realize that I had about a pinch of ground cinnamon in the spice rack. As this is much less than the required two teaspoons, I drove myself to the market, so I could spend thirty-two fucking dollars (american) on four different stupid spices. It was really funny when the checkout lady saw my spices on the belt and said, "Don't even look at the price. Just swipe your card and get back home before you realize how bad you just got screwed." Apparently, I wasn't the only stupid-husband-in-charge-of-pies who had been in there tonight. When I got home, I turned on the oven to pre-heat, and began the process of mixing my thirty-two fucking dollars (american) of spices together. I reached for the required 2 1/2 cups of sugar . . . and discovered that we were entirely out of sugar.

I walked into our bedroom, where Anne was already tucked in and watching TV.

"We're out of sugar," I said, as if telling her this would get her to release some of the vast stores of sugar she'd been hording in a secret root cellar that I'd never seen in the seven years we've lived in our house. This was a repeat of the conversation we'd had twenty minutes earlier, when I walked in and said, "We're out of cinnamon, ginger, and ground cloves."

"Remember when I called you from the store this morning, and asked you to double check, and make sure you had everything you needed to make pies?"

"Uh-huh."

"And remember how you said, 'uh-huh,' and kept watching Battlestar Galactica?"

"Uh-huh."

"Yeah."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah."

"Do you need anything from the store?" I said.

"Believe it or not, since the last time you asked me twenty minutes ago, nothing new has come up." She said.

"Okay. I'll be right back." I got the hell out of there, hoping that I could somehow convince her that it was all a dream tomorrow. And by tomorrow, I mean today, but really tomorrow.

I drove to a different market this time, and picked up one pound of sugar. The store was swarming with panicked idiot husbands like myself. The atmosphere was similar to the card aisle in the twenty-four hour drug store around midnight on February 13th.

But the important thing is, I have punkin pies in the oven, now, and I'll have to stay awake for another two hours while they do their thing. So instead of playing poker with Shane and Joanne, I'm writing a little bit, then I'm going to get back to reading Blink, which is a fascinating book that I highly recommend to everyone.

Here are a few random thoughts before I get offline:

Following up on my last post, where the discussion is currently all about music (which makes me really sad, because it entirely misses the point of that story): if you are bored to death with the average radio option out there, and if you find yourself longing for an awesome radio station that plays really great music in a format that completely does not suck, you should really be listening to Egg Radio.

"Before you decide that everyone knows something (or no one does), take a second to realize that you're wrong." -Seth Godin.

Carly lists her top ten cheesy movies, including this turkey (har. har. har.):

8. Anaconda
The true star of this movie is yet to be determined, but it’s a tie between Jon Voight’s facial expressions and the rubber snakes that terrorize the crew. Of course, Ice Cube calling one of them a bitch is high on the list.

Carly's number one on the list has got heat.

I took my cat, Biko, to the vet earlier this week. Biko is Sketch's brother, and is the runt of their litter. He's the only kitty left, and he's the one we thought we'd lose first, for sure. The vet said that he was in perfect health, had even gained a little weight since his last visit, and that all his bloodwoork is normal. He will probably live to be one of those very old cats who is over twenty when he dies. The very next day, Anne found out from her eye doctor that she is incredibly allergic to Biko, and he's giving her some sort of allergic conjunctivitis. She told the doctor that there's no way we're getting rid of him, and he gave her a prescription that costs eight hundred gazillion dollars a week. It's funny and a little sad that she's allergic to him, because they totally love each other -- Biko sleeps on her side of the bed most of the day, and he snuggles up around her side at night. She said, "I love him as much as he loves me, so I'll just deal."

Back in the very early days of The Internets, when it was a big deal to telnet into your friends' machine at school or ftp issues of Phrack to each other, my friends and I would collect and pass around really weird and obscure mix tapes. One of my favorites had Buddy Rich freaking out on the tour bus, a bunch of prank calls to Red (the inspiration for Moe on The Simpsons), tons of pre-CD Jerky Boys, and several clips of Casey Kasem freaking out about moving the time of his show, and a long-distance dedication. I can't believe how hard it was to find some of those Casey clips, but here are two of them: "It's ponderous man. It's fuckin' ponderous." and "The Dead Dog Tape." If anyone reading this has access to other outtakes like these, and you're willing to share them, please let me know. Update: These links seem to be down, probably because the link got WWdN'd. I tried to find contact info to apologize to the hosting site's webmaster, but came up empty. If someone has these files and would like to host them, let me know and I'll change the links.

Last night (tonight) Nolan spent close to two hours reading this book that one of his teachers gave to him, and only put it down when he was too tired to keep reading. He told me, "This is way better than TV." When I went into his room to tell him goodnight, he'd fallen asleep, listening to Audio from Blueman Group.

Okay, it looks like the pies are just about done, which means that I am, too. Happy Thanksgiving to those of you who celebrate this holiday. I hope you get to spend it with people you love.