I watched "Return of the Jedi" over the weekend (in HiDef!) and I have to say, the whole Luke/Darth Vader throw down at the end still bugs me. The thing that gets me is that the Emperor, in chiding Luke, kind of gives the whole purpose away and tells Luke what things will happen to turn Luke over to the Dark Side. You know, the way he keeps on saying things like "good, good, let your hate take over...." The thing is that by telling Luke what would turn him, he's making it far too easy for Luke to resist. After all, if you knew that doing certain things would lead to bad things happening, you'd try to keep from doing it.

So, what I'm wondering is if the Emperor was so smart, why didn't he use reverse psychology? Like telling Luke "oh, you know, the last thing, of course, you'd want to do is to let the hate flow through you. That would be bad." Or lie-- "darnit Luke. If you strike down Vader, you'll never turn to do the dark side." Or hell, if they really wanted to turn him mad, they could have said bad things to him. Like as he was fighting Vader, the Emperor could have said something like "you know why Darth abandoned your mother when she had you? Because she was a whore!"

Also, this hardly gets talked about, but the Emperor tells Luke to kill Darth Vader and take Darth's place next to the Emperor. In hindsight, this was probably a bad mood as this probably led to Darth throwing the Emperor down the energy shaft. Why would Darth help the Emperor out, after all, if the Emperor tried to urge somebody to kill you.

One of the "colorful local folks" in my 'hood is this guy whose not quite homeless but not quite all together. He's usually wandering around, giving this loud "mmmm" honk of a sound wherever he goes. Often, he stands outside one of the local flop houses and smokes what I'm sure is "medicinal marijuana." He is, however, completely harmless and not very crazy and as such is usually let in to all the various places in the 'hood.

A few days ago, in the early morning, I was out in the street and as he walked past me, he held up his hand to high five me. It was a pretty cool thing actually, realizing that I'm such part of the local fabric of the neighborhood that the local color was high fiving me on the street. Sometimes it pays to never ever move.

Last thursday I sat down to watch the news in light of all the stuff going on. Olberman was doing some smart piece about all of the Cheney craziness and the sketchy constituionality of it all and so flipped around to see what else was going on. On Fox, they were busy ranting and raving about all those Mexicans crossing the border. On CNN, the Most Trusted Name in News, Glenn Beck was busy rushing to defend Anne Coulter from those viscious attacks by Elizabeth Edwards while Larry King was busy interviewing Paris Hilton.

Sometimes, I really hate this country.

Luckily, I had V for Vendetta on the ole TiVo and so I watched that and felt better.

In light of both the MTV Movie Awards in which Paris got dissed right in front of her face and her subsequent surrendering to the cops to be jailed, I came up with this interesting little political metaphor, mainly that W. and Paris have a lot in common.

Okay, follow along here....

At this point, Paris is a joke. A punchline. Actually, she's somewhere way below joke. Like a really bad comedian you wish would disappear from the air. Everyone knows she is, everyone says she is, and everyone acts on it, and yet, Paris seems to be completely clueless as to her being such a joke. She goes from gala event to pop culture event as if everyone wants her to show up and doesn't seem to know that nobody actually wants her to be there. And she keeps on doing all that Paris despite it all-- drinking and boozing and whoring and making fun of Lindsey Lohan. Yet whenever somebody calls her on this, she acts surprised, like she has no idea why anybody would hate her.

Which brings us to the President who at this point in his Presidency is also a joke, a punchline, a depressing sad and tragic joke. Yet he appears to be completely unaware of this, still acting with that smirking arrogance that he's had since he was elected. He still thinks he's the President and an authority, a man of credibility, yet pretty much everyone in the country doesn't believe anything he says. And like Paris, whenever he's called on it, he acts surprised that anybody would think he wasn't just the most righteous person on the earth and doubt his word.

And also, like Paris, pretty much everyone wishes he'd just go the fuck away.

Today, as I was exiting off 101 to get onto my offramp, I was tailgated. Now, I'm going at about 65 and need to start slowing down for the offramp and the sharp left turn that immediately comes after the turn-off. But this fucker in one of those SUV's for people who don't want people to think they have an SUV was right on my back the whole way. Again, this is at 65. He was up in my grill as it were so much that I went wide into the turnoff and had to use two hands to get myslef into the lane. And he still tailgated me. Even worse, there's three lanes that I can get into once I go through the turnoff and he was behind me, tailgating still, in the far-left lane that I chose.

Now, I am pissed. I hate tailgaters and this guy was particulary douchey. What moron tailgates on an off-ramp? I wanted to do what most people do in that situation, curse to the heavens and maybe flip him off but I decided to do something else: I slowed down. Really down. As long as he was on my back, I crept through the city streets as slow as possible, even intentionally missing a light. The guy, pissed at me, eventually turned and went up another street to get away from me.

I'm pretty proud of myself, actually, for coming up with this solution on how to handle tailgaters. In fact, let this be a warning to all you tailgaters out there-- get on my ass, and I'm dropping at least five on the spedometer.

Suck it.

Went to brunch in Noe Valley (after navigating the street like frogger trying to avoid all the baby strollers) and saw two things at Savor which pretty much sum up Noe Valley. Well, San Francisco, actually.

One of them is in the outdoor section, there's a sign that says "we appreciate you for not smoking." Because, of couse, saying that anything is verboten is, well, verboten. Notice they don't say "please, no smoking allowed." Or even "we would appreciate that you don't smoke outside." Instead, they say in kind of a passive voice that they're really gosh darn appreciative that you don't smoke. Which also means that, you know, you could actually smoke out there. It's not that you "can't" it's just that they wouldn't appreciate it.

Also, in the bathroom, over the diaper changer, is a sign listing a bunch of rules for "moms, dads, and nannies." I'm surprised they didn't say "non-specific care givers" or "friends of the families' nannies out taking the baby out for a stroll with your kids so the Nanny can get her nails down."

I'm back

Quick little bits that have been bugging me lo these past couple of months

-So I saw "Stranger Than Fiction" over the weekend, the movie about a guy who realizes he's a character in a novel. Which sounds like a cool idea, actually, although I'm a little bummed somebody didn't write me as Harry Potter.

-For what seemed like the first time ever, Freebird beat out Stairway to Heaven for #1 Rock Song of all Time. I could get all Chuck Klosterman on it, about how it Stairway represents the kind of idea that there's a perfect ideal out there which no longer exists thanks to six years of Bush and Freebird represents our desire to get the hell out, but I won't.

-Now out in public situations, the idea of farting out loud is pretty much frowned on, especially in a work environment. But when you go into the men's room and as everyone's standing around the urinals, it's pretty much okay to far away like you've never farted before. So why is it, then, that farting isn't okay if you're around a group of people outside of the bathroom, but pefectly okay if you're in the bathroom? Shouldn't the same rules apply or is it pretty much accepted that all bets are off whenever you enter the men's room?

-I can't believe it took me this long to do, but I know feel that my iTunes library is complete-- I downloaded some Elvis tunes. Because we all need a little King in our lives. And speaking of which, part of the fun of "In the Ghetto" is because in listening to the song, it's totally obvious that fat, jumpsuited, drug-laden Elvis is totally down with what was going down in the ghetto.

Okay, so here's my New Year's resolution-- update the blog more. What can I say, I'm a slacker.

Actually, now that I'm blogging for a living, I feel less like posting because while I don't feel burnt out, I feel like I'm pretty much done writing by the time it comes to the point where I'm supposed to do this blog. I don't know how novelists do it-- I write a few posts a day and I'm done.

But, on the other hand, where else am I going to go to write about the death of Gerald Ford. Is anyone else kind of mystified by all the hullabaloo? I mean maybe it's because I was still kind of young when he was President, but he always came off as kind of an amiable, bubbling accident of a President. You know, he was kind of a B List President. After all, you don't really hear any cries for a restoration of the Ford presidency.

Or maybe it's because he was bald.

And speaking of death, I never got around to the whole Steve Irwin thing. What the hell was up with that. Dude does some show on the Discovery Channel and when he died it was almost like when Princess Diana died. I half expected Elton John to do some song to honor him, you know like "Goodbye Aussie Rose."

Fricking silly if you ask me

Odds and ends:

-Apparently, I parked my car a little over the line to the car next to me and took up part of the spot. When I got back from my trip, I found a note on my car basically telling me what my error was and that I should think about the fact that I'm not the only person on the planet.

Yes, that's my bad. I did a bad job parking.

That afternoon I ran some errands and parked the car in exactly the same spot, except for the fact I parked it in the spot. I wonder if the guy who wrote the note walked by and wondered if he had imagined that my car was parked over the line

-This morning somebody buzzed the buzzer to be let into the building. I didn't press on the buzzer to let him for as long as I was supposed to so the person who wanted to get in couldn't. They then buzzed me quickly and repeatedly, you know flashing a little attitude. So I'm thinking, I'm the random person in the building who is buzzing you in despite the fact I don't now you or that I shouldn't really actually be letting you in. And you're giving me attitude?

-While back, I picked up the book Eragon, the fantasy novel about dragon riders and evil empires and all that. It's going to be a movie that'll be released in a week or so. What can I say, I'm a geek. As I read through the first couple of chapters, I realized why I hate reading fantasy novels: too many references to "steely eyes" or lines like "her hair was straight and she walked with grace" or even "soon she understood everything he said and commented frequently." This book even has a weird fetish over bodily functions. I think the main reason why everbody loves "Harry Potter" is because it's one of the few fantasy books in which the writer is so obviously not taking it that seriously. Or at least shows a sense of humor.

-After watching 30 Rock tonight (it's kind of funny), I realized that Alec Baldwin is becoming the new William Shatner.

-And speaking of tv shows, I came back from the east coast with a weird desire to watch a lot of "Scrubs." I don't know why

When I was a kid, I used to love flying. It was something new and cool-- you're flying in air! Plus airplanes (and airports-- I used to love going to airports too) always meant I was going somewhere, somewhere cool. Going somewhere is always fun. As I got older and did my fair share of flying, my love of flying dissipated but I still didn't mind it. Oh, I minded the occasional claustrophia and the occasional mind-numbing boredom, but I was alright with it. And most importantly, I was never scared of flying.

Now that I'm older and should be wiser, I have come to the point where I realize I hate flying. And it's not just the lack of comfort or crappy food. And it's definately not boredom as I have way too many things to occupy my times. It's just that I am now scared to death about flying. The moment turbulence hits, I start in with the Hail Mary's and I'm not even Catholic.

Take today's flight. We had the occasional turbulence on and off but things got pretty hairy at one point. As the plane started to rumble, I told myself it can't be too bad because the fasten seat belt light hadn't gone on yet. Then it did. And then I told myself it can't be too bad because the pilot hadn't told the flight attendants to sit down and buckel up yet. Then he did. And just as I was calming down, the pilot came on to describe what was happening and that we should not only buckle up but tighten the seat belts even more than we normally would.

No, I wasn't happy.

The thing is that it's not necessarily the thought of falling out of the sky (although the scene of the plane breaking up in "Lost" did enter my mind a few times). It's more of a control thing. If we go on a roller coaster, we know it'll be over soon. Scary drive? We can always pull over. Scary ski run? We can slow down. Scary plane fight? Not one damn thing you can do about it other than pop more tranquilizers and order another bloody mary.

And sometimes that doesn't even work.

Hey look I'm posting again. Yeah, I know, I said I'd keep on posting but I've been travelling (I'm in Baltimore right now) and well, the other blog is turning into a lot more work than I thought it would. Or, actually, worrying about it takes a lot more work than I thought it would. The biggest problem I've been facing is that since I'm three hours ahead, I look at the clock and think "oh my God, it's 2 o'clock and I only have five posts up" and then I realize that it's really 11 back home and that's a reasonable number.

So anyways, my big revelation in regards to the east coast is that when you look around, it becomes obvious that people look different here. It's hard to put a finger on it but it's true. People's faces are more angular, pastier. And to cover up the pastiness, they wear not so good makeup. And they look more ethnic, more full in their features. The Italians look more Italian, the Jews Jewier and even the nerds look nerdier. And before you think I'm being biased, keep in mind I've said some unkind things about my local SF denizens. As I've said a bunch of times, hipster types and the sunlight never, ever mix.

BTW- because I have so many songs on my Itunes, I'm now getting bored with my usual random listens. So now I'm entering in a word, like "sun" and see what comes up. Hello new playlist.

So here's what's been going on lately-- my phone was ailing, sick even. Then it finally went down for good, taking with it my phone, my TiVo and my DSL.

Oh, the humanity.

It's like the worst thing ever that could happen to me. I mean, what can I do if I can't catch up on Tivo or play on the internet?

Luckily, I've been able to hop onto somebody else's wifi and while it's not quite reliable or fast, it's better than nothing. And I can live without watching my Tivo shows, although it did mean me making sure I was home Thursday night and Friday night so I could watch the only two shows I care about, "the Office" and "BSG" Because yes, it is more important for me to not miss those shows than it is for me to go out.

All I can say is that the biggest thing I'm doing on Monday is not starting SFist full time or not going to the gym in the morning, but waiting for Comcast to give me all new stuff.

Yep. I'm back. In fact, I'm going to try and make an effort to posting more frequently. Why? Because I'm unemployed again!

No, not really. I'm just working for home for at least three months as I become one of the few, the proud, the paid bloggers. Yep, three months of never having to shower, change out of pajamas, or even get out of bed and get paid for it. Yes, it's a little surreal. As is leaving your job for three months. It's kind of a goodbye, kind of not a goodbye, kind of way to be in denial, kind of a way of taking the sting out of leaving some place you were quite happy at. And a way to take the sting out of something you're not quite 100% sure you'll be going back to. But really just don't know.

So grab some coffee, sit right back, and enjoy Hooray For Anything 2.0 as I'm going to try and post at least three times a week. I kind of miss doing the personal stuff and this whole next three months should be quite entertaining. Maybe if you're lucky (but I'm not) it'll go back to Old Skool Hooray- days and days of ruminating on boredom and loserdom.

As Howard Dean would say, "yeeeeeeeeeehawwwwwww!"

It's kind of amazing in that now that I'm an editor, everybody wants me to go to there party. I've been invited to like three or four just in the past week and all for the reason that I'm now the kind of person somebody wants to have at their party. I would like to think it's because of my dazzilng writing ability and sparkling wit, but it's probably more like because I'm now somebody who somebody would like to go the party so they can say "oh, this person is going to the party" and now the party is deemed that much more hip.

Imagine that. Imagine that involving little old me.

And you know, it's kind of a dream of mine to be that kind of person. Also kind of a dream of mine to be that kind of person and to turn down those kinds of parties so I can stay home and watch Tivo.

Anyways, I went to this Litquake thing on Friday night with a bunch of local musicians and alt-rock heroes, like Jay Farrar. Al;so there was Lars Ulrich (a friend got to see Lars pick his nose!). What was interesting is that even though most of the alt-rock guys are probably not Metaliica fans and they're probably as far removed from the world of a millionaire rock star, they all stopped what they were doing to watch Lars give his little spiel onstage. They laughed at all the places they were supposed to, and clapped when they were supposed to. They were just as star struck as everyone else.

It's good to be a rock star.

Yes, it was Yom Kippur today and not only did I eat, I went to work too. No work, no pay and I's got to be paid. I did feel a little guilty this evening when I turned on my TiVoed Pardon the Interuption only to hear that Tony Kornheiser took the day off because of the holiday. That guy is such a camera whore but if he could take the day off....

While at work, I found myself taking the elevator down with just me and two coworkers who were both Jewish. It suddnely struck me that taking an elevator down in an elevator full only with Jews might not be such a good idea on this day.

So yes, I haven't posted in awhile. The past few weeks have been a little crazy and will continue to be, so I'm not sure how much posting I have left in me. The main reason for all this? Well, because as of this weekend, all of this is now mine.

Not only that, at some point, it will be mine full time, making me one of the few people actually trying to make a living at blogging. Which is kind of cool, kind of exciting, kind of awesome in a way. Let's put it this way, between having a laptop and wireless, it is possible for me to post while in bed making me one of the people who could get paid for doiing something in bed that is legal.

And why is all of this happening? As a wise man once said, when the going gets weird, the weird turn pro. I am turning pro.

Sorry for the no posting, but a lot's been going on. Big, big, big doings, in fact of which I can't yet speak of. But will soon enough.

Stay tuned.

Forgot this story--

The elevators at work are somewhat known for being a little sketchy. They occasionally have been known to break down and there are signs predominately displayed inside them letting everyone know that even though they haven't been inspected in awhile, rest assured, everything is okay. Everyone who rides them gets a little scared that they'll one day find themselves stuck in them.

Last week, I got stuck in one of them. My very first time stuck in an elevator.

The doors opened on the 2nd floor, the other people in the elevator got off, and the doors closed shut but that was it. The elevator didn't move and I was stuck there alone, inside the elevator. Now, the first thing you notice is just how small the elevator really is. And how it's where you are going to be for the forseeable future. Then there's realization that all of those elevator buttons at the bottom of the elevator, the bright red ones that are always there but you never actually use, are now something I need to use. But which one? It's not like they have training for these things, you know, like there being a video starting up when you get on telling you what to do in case of a loss of cabin pressure or something.

And then the thoughts start up. Who will know I'm here? How do I let anyone know? What happens if I have to go to the bathroom? Can this elevator really be this small?

So I press one of the buttons and the alarm sounds, ringing throughout the building letting everyone know there's a problem. Good move, right, but not without a feeling of shame in that I got all panicky and pressed the alarm button. After all, everyone else surely knows to press another button. So I press the button that says "to call in case of emergency." I hear nothing on the other end, something like "hello, are you stuck somewhere?" or even a "what can I do for you?" or "hello." Nothing. Silencio.

Not knowing what else to do, I said I was stuck to nobody in particular and pressed the button a few more times. Nothing again. Not a noise, not a peep, not a crackle of static. Huh.

Finally, after a few seconds, the elevator started to move and I made it to my floor.

I have no idea what happened. Who saved me and how. And I wasn't stuck in there for more than a minute or two, but still. It's a little scary.

That elevator is pretty small.

I don't know what my downstairs neighbors are listening to or what they're doing, but every once in awhile, my apartment thumps and thumps along to the beat of whatever they're doing. Which is fine except for the fact it feels exactly like an earthquake so everytime it starts up, my first thought is "oh, shit...it's the BIg One"

I was one of those people who were like "I don't need a cell phone. Cell phones suck and are destroying society." My cell phone went out a few days ago and it was like "OH MY GOD, HOW AM I GOING TO CONTACT ANYONE!!!!!!!!! WHAT HAPPENS IF I GET IN A CAR ACCIDENT!"

Now, I'm a believer.

And speaking of phones, I got my phone just about two years ago and the battery just wore out. It also happens to be around the time my contract is up. Coincedence? I think not. I also love how they tell you they have this offer and this offer and the phone is free and then once you purchase a bunch of stuff they start telling you about rebates and offers and filling out this form and that form and my phone's dead, what else am I going to do?