I wish he wouldn't do that.

In the process of trying to come up with some idea of how Fang spends his day, the little twerp went and sprouted some subsidiary characters. I mean, c'mon! He started off as a subsidiary character himself! He was supposed to be the comic relief, not a main character of his own - and now he's got associated background characters independent of his family? aagh.

Nevertheless, here they are. And Fang is suggesting they might make lovely members of the Journey to the West Cabal. bah.

Arthur Ibuka - Drama student. Sound technician. Lazy SOB. Grandson of Japanese immigrants. Speaks exactly as much Japanese as necessary to get the old folks off his back. What he doesn't know (or plan to know) about theater sound systems isn't worth knowing. Capable of a certain amount of mechanical ingenuity, but if he built a catapult (for example) there'd be a 50% chance of it working, a 10% chance of it doing nothing, and a 40% chance that Arthur forgot to calculate all the forces involved and it went to pieces under the strain. Could be as l33t as Whistler was in the movie Sneakers if he ever really applied himself.

Melanie Poundstone - Drama/art double major. Set design. Specializes in trompe l'oeil. When she paints, people believe. African-American. Probably most philosophical of the folks who work backstage. Well versed in history, esp. art history; makes an extra effort to study as much as possible about any production she works on. Decent candidate for the Tripitaka slot.

Krasher - Lighting technician. Probably an engineering student. Doesn't talk much, so no one really knows - but he's always there when someone arrives at the auditorium to start work or rehearsal, and he's generally there well after they leave. Maladjusted nerd who badly needs to rejoin the world of human beings from somewhat closer up than the lighting control center. Knows his electronics inside and out, though. A good deal more self-indulgent than is really healthy. You could probably grab Selma Hayek out of Wild Wild West - in her original costume - and put her next to him during a production and he wouldn't notice until the lights went down for intermission. Horrible, horrible temper if disturbed; tolerable otherwise, but like I said, he's not real good with people.

That's it at the moment, thank the Gods.

Online classes.

I'm currently taking several MIS classes at the local university. One of them is meeting in an online chatroom this week. It's surreal. The prof asks questions and we have to ask permission to answer. No lecture stuff, just q/a and the occasional few lines of talk from the prof. I slept until 9 AM and got online at 9:05 for the class, even though it started at 9:30. It was just too weird not to have been up since 8, circling the parking lot looking for a space. (Even on Saturdays it's a real pisser trying to find parking, at least within reasonable distance of the building my class is in.)

I'm not sure I like this. I prefer having a record of my class stuff. I prefer having clear boundaries between work and home, and that includes between the class and home. I realize the appeal of all this is that it's convenient and that people can relax and not worry about getting showered, getting to school on time, etc. Myself, I like having to get ready and walk into the classroom, then walk out. It means that I've actually gotten out, seen people, done something, etc. It means the teacher has no claim on my personal space beyond that imposed by homework and study. And it gives me less reason to be lazy- you can't really bring a comic book to class and read it, but it's a powerful urge here when people other than me are being called on to answer questions.

Bah. At least this is happening after I got my cable internet access. I'd hate trying to do this via 56k dialup.

BWAHAHAHAHAHAH...

No, that's not the mad scientist laugh. THat's the hysterical laughter of someone who's just seen her first Stephen Chow movie. It's called "Shaolin Soccer", and it's easily the silliest original movie I've seen in ages. . . Dear God. I can't describe it. I just - *no one* can explain this movie to you. Which is entirely appropriate, as it uses the sort of special effects I'm told were in The Matrix. It's... How do I try to describe this?

Start off with a creative team that wants to do a martial arts movie. Introduce them to the creative team that wants to do a sports movie. Hash out a script about a ragtag band of misfits who use kung fu discipline to improve their soccer.

Now hire the producers of Naked Gun, and as many of the behind-the-scenes people from Blazing Saddles, as you possibly can. Put them to work on the script, cinematography, etc.

Now slip the director a copy of Rocky IV and suggest to him that he pay special attention to the training methods and augmentation done on Ivan Drago or whatever the hell his name is.

Now add the digital effects. Make sure that the fat guy on the team is capable of air time that would make Dogbert in VR embarrassed. . .

I can't explain this movie, I just can't. You have to see it. Go on. It's for sale at eBay if you can't find it anywhere else, $8.99 for a two-VCD set. THe dubbing's horrible - they didn't strip out the Cantonese sound when they added the dubbed dialogue - but the subtitles are real howlers in and of themselves. This movie is so worth it, if you're in need of a good laugh. It really is.

Today's pulp survival tip is #53: You may as well leave your sense of personal dignity in a locker back in the States, because you’re not going to have much use for it in most of these adventures. On the other hand, if you’re captured by the Evil Villain or Supernatural Menace, you’re going to want it back. See #1. Cowards die; scared people get laughed at; but people who maintain their dignity in front of their captors have the greatest chance of any captives of escaping or being rescued in spectacular fashion. If you can’t manage dignity, controlled defiance is the next best thing.