Dora! Dora! Dora!

Over the Thanksgiving break, my brother and his family came to visit, which means having a five year old and a one year old around the house. (I'm sure I'll be properly reprimanded at Christmas if I got their ages wrong.) I've come to the realization that I won't be able to stand having kids, and I think the only reason for that is children's TV.

Most of the shows are about as exciting as watching paint dry. Some shows like Wonder Pets and Lazy Town are just plain creepy. But my two favorites have to be Dora the Explorer and its male-oriented spin-off Go Diego Go!

The creators of these shows have to be raking in millions of dollars (or pesos as the case may be). Both shows look like they cost about 30 cents to make, but kids go apeshit for them. What bothers me about them is that these shows have very peculiar premises and even worse messages for little kids.

Both shows feature these two kids who can't be older than seven living in the jungle. Dora seems to at least have a house nearby, but I think Diego lives in a treehouse somewhere in the rainforest. At first I thought neither child had adult supervision. Dora only seems to chillax with what may be a lice-infested monkey (or perhaps a jaundiced monkey if the yellow tail and belly are any indication) while Diego pals around with a baby jaguar. But then right at the beginning of one episode, Diego's dad bikes in. He tells Diego that he just spent a week in the mountains with the eagles. What does this tell kids? It's okay little beaner-babies, it's normal for Mexican dads to run off into the wilderness and abandon their kids.

I've now seen a few episodes of each show. Dora's fun usually involves a trip to some destination with two minor obstacles in the way. In a Christmas-themed episode, Dora decides to hike to the North Pole. Remember that this girl lives in the jungle. According to Dora, the trip involves hiking over a snowy mountain, crossing an icy river, and BAM! You're at the North Pole. Keep in mind that Dora's idea of mountain climbing involves throwing a rope (which she once repaired with tape!) up to the top of the mountain. She makes mountain climbing look about as hard as blowing your nose, and her trip halfway around the world took about 20 minutes. Jesus Christ, where's the DORA button on the Travelocity website?

Dora's nemesis is a weasel named Swiper, a kleptomaniac who wants to steal Dora's helpful items for the hell of it. Like Wile E. Coyote, Swiper seems to have a huge cache of devices and vehicles at his disposal all for the sole purpose of stealing Dora's lunch money, coloring book, or magic mittens. Personally, I always root for Swiper because he comes prepared. In one episode, Dora wants to get something that's across the river before Swiper can get it. Dora summons several large blue whales (IN A RIVER!!??) to create a bridge to the other side. Swiper brings a jet ski. He understands that summoning aquatic life should be left in the hands of professionals like Aquaman. My only problem with Swiper is that he never wants Dora's magic backpack that can produce ANYTHING. It makes the replicator in Star Trek look like a soda fountain. Of course, Swiper always loses, and he dejectedly walks away saying, "Ohh, Maaaaannn!!" Dora the Asshole never offers to share.

In Go Diego Go, Diego works at some sort of Animal Rescue Center. So not only is Diego's dad a deadbeat, but he's also in violation of child labor laws. While he's up in the mountains, Diego's pulling down a job. Some animals ends up in trouble (falling in a pit, breaking an ankle, or whatever), and Diego goes to rescue it. What kills me is how well Diego seems to get along with the these jungle creatures. Jaguars, condors, pumas, monkeys, bears, and even snakes just LOOOVEE that little Mexican boy. This kid wouldn't last five minutes in a real jungle. Just once I want to see Diego come down with a horrible case of malaria and then he's mauled by a leopard and then eaten by a snake. Is that too much to ask from Nick Jr.?

In one episode, Diego decides to race a group of monkeys and a group of pumas. What kills me is that Diego wins! He races a fucking PUMA and wins!! In another episode, Diego encourages kids to duck low as he races under some dangling vines. Okay, that's fine. Then he encourages them to duck low again to race under some dangling vines that have GIANT SPIDERS on them. I'm not shitting you, these spiders were huge. I wouldn't go within ten feet of a spider that big let alone run underneath a whole swath of rainforest filled with them. But just when I thought it couldn't get any better, Diego then ducks down to race under dangling vines filled with hundreds of giant snakes. At that point, the little bastard deserved to die.

I tried to find some video of either show, but I found something even better. It's set to the song "Lean Like a Cholo."

I love how well the words match up with the clips. Some loving fan of both the song and show spent a lot of time on this. I don't know what's going on in any of the clips, but Dora the ExploraChola is seen here riding on a giant chicken while dancing with what appears to be the Lorax. This makes about as much sense to me as the real show.

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Dora the Explorer: Encouraging children to wander off without adult supervision since 1999.

Pass the Pie and my Dignity

Well, another Thanksgiving has come and gone. I usually like the whole thing, what with the delicious pumpkin pie and all, but this year I'm just not feeling it. On Wednesday night, I went to the bar, and it seemed like everyone that I went to high school with was there. I hadn't seen most of these people since high school. This was not good news because I didn't really get along with many people in my high school. Truth be told, I was kind of an asshole back in high school (he reflects as though this is no longer true). I was usually in my own little world, didn't talk to people outside of the band, and gave way too much attention to my schoolwork. I got better in my senior year, but through most of high school, I wasn't really all that popular.

Well, my friends knew a lot of people in high school, so in this little reunion, I got to meet all kinds of people that I hadn't talked to much since high school. Talk about some awkward conversations. Most conversations with me started with some variation of, "So what are you doing now?" or "How's grad school coming along?"

This question comes up a lot lately. I usually have two options. I can either lie and say, "Grad school's going great! It's a lot of fun, and really feel that I made the right decision there." This leads me to feeling like a tool. I'm also not very convincing when telling said lie. It usually results in me either laughing hysterically or wailing in extreme emotional anguish.

The other alternative is to tell the truth and say, "Yes I'm in grad school, and I hate it more than the old Jew down the street hates his German furnace repairman." The regretful inquisitor then dutifully asks, "So what are you going to do when you're done then?" And I'll say, "I have no idea. My future looks bleak. I'll probably end up in a tech writing job or something." The person will then make an excuse about having explosive diarrhea and quickly leave.

Needless to say, I drank heavily and loudly made fun of others in order to compensate.

I hate talking about myself when I come home. I just don't have anything good to say about what I'm doing with my life right now other than that I'll be finished with it in 5 months. (Grad school, not my life. Don't put me on suicide watch here. I'm far too allergic to pain.) Add into that the 15 or 20 pounds that I've gained again since being in grad school. You can also factor in my ongoing status as a pathetic single man because all I'd have to talk about on a date is grad school (not good conversation). I'm not really a happy camper. The only people who can truly understand the misery of being an English grad student are other English grad students. It's not that there's all that much work - truth be told I slack off quite a bit. The real problem is the guilt. There's no way to have free time without sacrificing something that you should be doing.

Take tomorrow for instance. I should have a fun time between playing football (albeit in the ball-numbing cold) and probably heading out with my friends later in the night. But while I'm doing that, my mountain of grading, my Beowulf translation, and my Old English project are all waiting for me in my room. Even as I'm having fun, I'll be thinking that it's just less time over the weekend to cram in all that shit. It's a horrible existence.

People who read my blog are generally divided into two camps: my fellow miserable WVU grad student colleagues and my fellow redneck Kittanning posse (though I think I have a few stragglers from other locales - I'm looking at you, The Shit). To those in the grad student group, you probably know exactly what I'm talking about. To those in the Kittanning group, try me again in about nine or ten months. Maybe by then I'll actually be worth talking to.

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This self-involved personal reflection was brought to you by the WVU English Department - spoiling your holidays and dignity since man first put pen to paper.

In a Galaxy Far Far Away

I don't really update as often as I could, and I seldom have a good excuse other than having nothing to blog about. This time, however, I've got two good reasons for not posting.

The first is that I had 10 pages of my seminar paper due last night. Writing this paper was boiling my eyeballs in liquid shit. I now want to go build a time machine, take a nuclear bomb, and completely obliterate the 19th century. Time paradoxes be damned!

The other reason for my attention being diverted is my recent purchase of Super Mario Galaxy. The game may look like it was made for a five year old, but I think the real audience is 30 year old gamers whose brains have been drug-fried to the point that a Rubik's cube totally blows their mind because of all the right angles.

Super Mario Galaxy is just that twisted. The premise, as with all Mario games, is that Bowser has kidnapped Princess Toadstool (or "Peach" for those playing the home game), and Mario must make his way through trippy worlds to get her back. The catch this time is that Bowser has traded in his castles and clown-themed hot-air balloon for an army of spaceships and makes his way to THE CENTER OF THE UNIVERSE! Mario enlists the help of some kirby-like star creatures who help him travel among something like 30 galaxies in search of golden stars to power his own spaceship.

The laws of physics be a harsh mistress.

But Mario games have the same principle as bad porno: the story doesn't matter. Apparently, neither do the laws of physics, which is what makes the game so damn trippy and amazing. You have to take Mario around these planetoids in every direction. There are larger planets as well that resemble the worlds of Super Mario 64 and Super Mario Sunshine, but be prepared. In every level, gravity will make you its bitch.

But the bizarre nature of the game does not end with the uber-3D exploration.

This game is getting a lot of good buzz (ba dum bum!)

Remember those weird super suits from Super Mario 3 and Super Mario World? Well guess what's making a comeback? This game turns Mario into a bee, a spring, a ghost, an iceman, and even the traditional fire-throwing Mario.

In this game so far, I raced a shark, three penguins, and even a shadow version of myself. I also battled a half-dinosaur, half-piranha plant creature. The Toy Time Galaxy made me fear toy robots again, and the Space Junk Galaxy makes space-littering look cool. Then there's the "normal" stuff like the giant lava planet and the desert world. I haven't seen themed worlds this elaborate since the Starship Enterprise went to the gangster planet, the Nazi planet, and the cowboy planet in the same month.

In short, if you own the Wii, you must buy this game. If you don't, you will die alone.

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Super Mario Galaxy: causing Isaac Newton to turn over in his grave since last week.

Turtle Tip: Ignore Those With Problems

Back in the late 80s/early 90s, Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles was taking a lot of flak for its comedic depictions of senseless violence. I mean, they were essentially a group of mutant vigilantes carrying lethal weapons and dispensing justice at their whim. In order to appease parents and other people who couldn't enjoy a good robot/turtle melee, the show began to have these little public service announcements called "Turtle Tips" at the end of their episodes.

In this message, an elementary school mullet boy is heckling poor Joey about taking some pot ("You know... MARIJUANA!"). After Joey gives the 80s punk his "oh snap, son!" comeback, Donatello comes on with his final message: "Drug dealers are dorks. Don't even talk to them!"

That's right kids. If a ten year old has somehow fallen in with a gang of drug runners and is trying to push drugs onto elementary school students, the right answer is to castigate this kid. Ignore him and make him a social pariah. Come on, Donatello! This kid is clearly a newbie seller. What kind of professional heckles his customers by flapping his arms and making chicken noises? This kid either needs a friend or an "Intro to Business" class.

I think Michaelangelo has the right idea. Get a pizza, sit down with the drug dealing kid, and make friends. Maybe that's all this leather-clad pre-teen is looking for: a buddy and a good meal. Hall Monitor Donatello the Hardass would have us shove this kid down a well and forget about him.

You're the real turkey, Donatello! That's why no one talks to you.... that and the purple flair.

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9 out of 10 drug dealers in prison blame Donatello for the zero tolerance policy. The last one blames Krang for his Ecstasy from Dimension X.

Thanksgiving Triple Fowl

I was in the Rec Center this afternoon, and as I was changing in the locker room, I overheard an old man with two canes telling these two guys about his Thanksgiving plans. Apparently their crippled companion fancies himself to be quite the chef. He was regaling them with tales of the elaborate feast that he was planning to make for his family next week. The centerpiece of this dinner is to be, as he put it, "a turkey stuffed with a duck stuffed with a chicken."

My first reaction should have been, "Blleeechhh! That's like a triple-play culinary sodomy!" but instead I was thinking, "Hmmmm.... fill that with some melted cheddarjack cheese and I'll bet that would be delicious!"

The man's description intrigued me, and while I was searching for an appropriate image for this post, I discovered that he didn't make this thing up. It's an actual dish called (I hope you're ready for this) the Turducken. Apparently, it was either invented in France or Louisiana quite some time ago. All three birds must have their bones removed and then you pretty much stuff each bird into another, with layers of stuffing in between.

Again, this should get my gag reflex going, but it actually sounds like the tastiest thing I've ever heard of.

According to this website, you can actually order a ready-to-go turducken by mail. Turduckens cost about $50-$60, but the shipping cost for sending it overnight in dry-ice is what costs the most. In fact, it costs more than the turducken. Turducken shipping will run you at least a hundred bucks.

I'm not sure if I can afford to make a turducken, but if anyone wants to do it, I better be the first person on your invite list.

By the way, I'm also well aware of the irony of this triple-bypass-bird dish being discussed in the gym locker room. I considered it extra incentive to literally run that extra mile.

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Three out of four readers are now inexplicably craving Turducken.

Customization Fascination

Bob Kelso replies to complaints about substantive updates

In the last six hours, I've altered the appearance of this blog at least four times. I stumbled across Blogger's "Template Customization" feature, and it's proven to be quite the time waster. Between this and the Law & Order: Criminal Intent marathon that was on this evening, I managed to completely avoid my work. Thank you Blogger!

I'm not convinced that this the final format, so I may change it again. Give me the power to change colors, fonts, and shapes, and I'll be a happy little tech-savvy procrastinator for quite some time. I really like the color scheme right now - very Superman-esque. I'll see what else I can play with.

It's not your enjoyment I'm worried about; this is just the four year old in me that's fascinated with pretty colors.

UPDATE: Yep, I changed it about five minutes after I initially posted this... God damn, I need to get laid.

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Customization Features - Endorsing style over substance for the last ten years.

Dopplegangers of the Mushroom Kingdom

What's the deal with Wario? Where did this tubby mustachioed menace come from? Common sense would seem to indicate that he's Mario's evil doppleganger, but the two seem to cooperate in casual sports and games on many occasions. Wario will drive a kart, play tennis, or even just play a board game with the gang. This doesn't make sense if he's a simple nemesis, but perhaps he's also Mario's brother. They sure do look alike... except for the huge schnoz on Wario's face. Maybe Papa Mario would drink a lot after work and then smack Wario in the face a few times. That would explain the big nose and the surly disposition. Mario and Luigi were doubtlessly upstairs investigating their own plumbing.

Then you've got the recently introduced Waluigi, Luigi's evil doppleganger. He pops up in all the Mario Kart and Mario Party games. He looks like a cross between Wario and Dick Dastardly. Wikipedia claims that Wario and Waluigi are brothers, but there was no mention of any relation between them and Mario and Luigi. If these two brotherly pairs aren't related, that has to be one hell of a coincidence. Sort of like Alvin and the Chipmunks and their suspiciously similar-looking love interests, the Chipettes.

Personally, I think this should all be settled in the Mushroom Kingdom version of Maury. Maury would have the DNA tests on this settled over a commercial break. I guarantee that Mama Mario stepped out with that Frog King from Super Mario 2 on at least one occasion. It could be billed as a special paternity test episode that also features the seven motherless children of Bowser.

The other possibility is that Wario IS the aforementioned abusive and alcoholic Papa Mario. In fact, that would explain a great many things. Mama Mia!

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Super Mario Galaxy comes out in two days, so my final two papers will be given the shaft as I play this game for hours on end over Thanksgiving break.

Par for the Course

I have been tagged by Virgil to blog on the following topic:

“Devise a list of 5-10 courses you would take to fix your life. It’s more fun to be in classes with friends, so include one class from the person who tagged you that you’d also like to take. Tag five.”

Never one to back away from a challenge (especially since she said that my "caustic take on graduate school" would be worthwhile), I thought it sounded like a good way to procrastinate.

LINGUISTICS 203: Students in Translation
This is one that Virgil came up with. In this course, you will learn the necessary vocabulary for translating the phrases of English 101 students. Learn how to translate such phrases as "I didn't have internet access in my dorm this weekend" so that you know the student actually means, "I spent most of my weekend piss drunk and didn't bother to do any research."

HEALTH 101: Eating Tips for Dummies
In this course, you will be introduced to the basic concepts of not eating when you're not actually hungry. Important lessons include "Not opening the refrigerator," "Putting the pie back," and "Picking up a carrot." Extra credit will be given for not actually purchasing items like Salt and Vinegar chips in the first place. Getting your 6'5" fat ass onto a treadmill is saved for the advanced classes.

ENGLISH 622: Using Theory Without Knowing It
Are you tired of looking stupid in class? Are you sick of actually learning literary theories in order to apply them? Well then this course is for you! Learn how to name-drop like Chuck Woolery at a dive bar. Learn the exquisite art of turning the names of theorists into adjectives (Foucaultian, Lacanian, Benjaminian), using bullshit words like heteronormativity, and using the theories of black, female, Native American, or gay theorists so that anyone who disagrees with you will look like a racist, sexist, imperialist homophobe.

ED PSY 343: Understanding System Apathy
Do you feel like your bosses or the administration will have your back when something goes horribly awry in the classroom? This is a dangerous frame of mind, my friend, and this course can show you how the world of academia works. You will come to understand that no one in the department cares about backing you up when necessary. Learn the basics of how your salary equals that of an indentured servant. Understand that "the harsh penalties of plagiarism" mean nothing when your boss has to be the one to implement them. Learn how being quiet and invisible works in your favor. Remember: an obedient teacher is a teacher with a job.

MATH 101: Finances for English Majors
In this course, you flowery English majors will be introduced to the basic concepts of a how money works. You will learn that spending money before you have it is a bad thing, and that you can't pay for a meal with a clever Haiku. How to calculate a tip so that a waitress won't throw her used gum at you as you walk out the door will be covered on the first day of class. Other topics will include: how to use a credit card, what taxes are and how to pay them, why the government doesn't like sarcasm on a tax form, operating a calculator, counting past 20, and why "consolidating your loans" isn't necessarily the Foucaultean hegemony closing in on your free will.

PSYCH 399: Coping With Your Own Paranoia
The world is not out to get you, and we're here to help. That's right! We can see you right now, but the world is not conspiring to keep you in a miserable job with a workload that seems to lead nowhere. In this course, you will see that there is happiness beyond those shots of absinthe, and the light at the end of the tunnel is not the flashlight of O'Brien as he examines your eyes to see if you're ready to be thrown back into the Ministry of Love. Now drink up your victory gin and sign up for this class you miserable prole!

COMP SCI 201: Running an Effective Blog
In this course, you will see how blogs don't necessarily have to be about English class all the time. Maybe if you actually went outside sometimes and did something with your life, you'd have something else to talk about other than graduate school, food, movies, and your miserable excuse for a cat. You will also learn such valuable skills as brevity, making jokes that are funny to more people than just yourself, and italicized quips at the end of posts are no substitute for legitimate conclusions.

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Tagging - A waste of time for me since 2006 since I don't know anyone with a blog that Virgil hasn't already tagged.

Reel Ruminations: Death Bed: The Bed That Eats

After fortuitously stumbling upon the wrong Deathbed movie, I quickly found the movie that I wanted. For weeks it sat on my desk. I wanted the perfect opportunity to watch it. A gem like this has to be shared with friends (and hopefully plenty of beer). Well Halloween night provided that opportunity, and I was not disappointed. A friend of mine was having a Halloween party consisting of scary movies and such, and I brought the newfound raison d'etre for said party's existence: Death Bed: The Bed that Eats.

After watching the cinematic masterpiece Jason X: Jason in Space (perhaps worthy of its own blog post), we turned out attention to Death Bed: The Bed That Eats. The full title is an absolute necessity. All requests for shorthand will be denied.

Death Bed: The Bed That Eats opens with a black screen while what sounds like someone eating an apple is heard. The movie is divided into four parts: Breakfast, Lunch, Dinner, and The Just Dessert. The whole thing is narrated by a ghost that lives behind a painting. The basic premise is that this demon had the hots for a "fair maiden" about a hundred years ago. In an attempt to have sex with said maiden, the demon forged this bed from an evil tree (I think). Unfortunately, the demon was so evil that the sex killed her. The demon cried, and his demon tears put a curse on the bed. Now the bed eats people (typically when they're having sex).

If this makes sense to you, stop doing shots of absinthe right now.

Symbolism anyone?

The "eating" is shown with this yellow shit that gurgles out of the bed as the people slowly sink into it. And when I say "slowly," I mean SLLLOOOOWWWLLLYYY!! The underwhelming reactions of the victims are hilarious.
"I say! The bed seems to be consuming me. What a predicament this is."
"Indeed. This just won't do. I do believe I'm going to shoot at it."

Hell, one guy keeps smoking his cigar as he gets eaten. Check out this clip.
The fact that this movie is on YouTube fills my heart with untold joy.

Death Bed: The Bed That Eats makes the 2002 Deathbed look sensible. Every element of the 70s is present: the kickass black chick with the power-fro, the weepy hippie girl, the strutting 70s disco star (who bears a strange resemblance to Peter Frampton), the psychedelic editing... it's all here. Also, for some reason, every woman in the film manages to get naked at some point. Either the bed psychically removes their clothes, or the bed creates a dream sequence in which the woman is naked. I guess when you're a bed with an oral fixation, you can do whatever you want.

Nausea, heartburn, indigestion, upset stomach, diarrhea! YAY PEPTO BISMOL!

Some favorite scenes:
> The Peter Frampton wannabe gets his hands eaten in such a way that he's left with skeleton hands. He stares at his hands as he calmly remarks, "There's no flesh."
> After a particularly large meal, the Death Bed consumes a bottle of Pepto Bismol.
> The Death Bed eats a couple's box of fried chicken and apples. Upon opening the box and finding bare chicken bones (the Death Bed politely returns the box and apple cores), the man says, "Huh! Must have been a mistake." Yes. KFC mistakenly filled your container with garbage. Some mistake.
> In the same scene, the Death Bed downs an entire bottle of wine.
> An old woman (maybe in her 90s) relaxes in the Death Bed. She opens a magazine clearly titled "ORAL LESBIANS." She is promptly consumed.
> In a tribute to feminist ideals, two women (the black-power chick and the hippie girl) enjoy a picnic of raw sausage and pickles.

While Death Bed: The Bed That Eats doesn't have anyone as awesome as Joe Estevez, I did find an interesting tidbit. The only actor in the movie to appear in anything other than this movie was the Peter Frampton guy. His real name is William Russ (though he wisely used the pseudonym "Rusty Russ" in this movie). He went on to guest star on several sitcoms, but he is perhaps best known for playing the dad on the show Boy Meets World. A true thespian!

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Rusty Russ: From Peter Frampton wannabe to Feeny's next-door neighbor.