Experiencing Technical Difficulty...

Please stand by...

Sometimes, I Wish I Spoke German...

...because that way I'd have a better chance at fully appreciating this site:

Batman - The Dark Knight in 3D

The site is the work of a guy by the name of Achim Loobes, and he - well, here's an example:




Check it out.

Und wilkommen in Gotham...

There Now Follows An Announcement...

My sister Ray's back on the blogosphere after an absence more extended than any of mine - I told her I'd spread the word...

Another job done, another day saved - am I incredible or what?

Er, yes...

Splotchy's Story Virus II - The Relapse...

Regular readers may remember a project undertaken some time ago by Splotchy to create a 'viral story'. Irregular readers may not.

The premise, for the uninitiated, and in the creator's own words, is this:

"...Here's what I would like to do. I want to create a story that branches out in a variety of different, unexpected ways. I don't know how realistic it is, but that's what I'm aiming for. Hopefully, at least one thread of the story can make a decent number of hops before it dies out.

If you are one of the carriers of this story virus (i.e. you have been tagged and choose to contribute to it), you will have one responsibility, in addition to contributing your own piece of the story: you will have to tag at least one person that continues your story thread. So, say you tag five people. If four people decide to not participate, it's okay, as long as the fifth one does. And if all five participate, well that's five interesting threads the story spins off into.

Not a requirement, but something your readers would appreciate: to help people trace your own particular thread of the narrative, it will be helpful if you include links to the chapters preceding yours."

The story begins thusly:

I had been shuffling around the house for a few hours and already felt tired. The doorbell rang. I opened the front door and saw a figure striding away from the house, quickly and purposefully. I looked down and saw a bulky envelope. I picked it up. The handwriting was smudged and cramped, and I could only make out a few words.
(Splotchy)

I looked up and down the street but didn’t see any delivery truck, or any car for that matter. No FedEx, no UPS , no creepy-looking porno'd-out conversion van with a half-assed delivery service sign taped to its side. Nothing. It's like delivery man just disappeared. I stepped back inside, re-set the deadbolts and took a closer look at the envelope.

Mentally I ran through the checklist of letter bomb warning signs. The handwriting on the envelope, smudged and cramped as it was, was laid out in a tiny, obsessively neat block lettering. It practically screamed recently-de-institutionalized loner with time on his hands. No ticking or whirring sounds, that’s good. No odd smells, no leaks or stains on the package. Check. Weight seemed evenly distributed, that’s good too. I decided to open it.

Inside I found a plane ticket to Pensacola, a business card for a lawyer in Niceville, five crisp $100 bills and a four page handwritten note. Well. This was different. I poured a cup of coffee, threw some meat to the dogs to stop em barking, and sat down to read. (Bubs)

The handwriting of the letter was different than the envelope. It was more rushed, erratic. And it was all in Russian. I could speak a little Russian because of the company I used to keep, but couldn't read it to save my life. I knew some people that could translate for me, but I wasn't about to see them again. Or did one of them write the note? Was it Dimitri the Finger? Petrov? Ivankovich?

I looked at the lawyer's card -- "Tom Ely" -- how whitebread, how American. The address said Niceville, but the phone number's area code was New Jersey. I dialed and waited. My dogs fought over a leftover bone outside, growling.

"Hello, this is Tom Ely, I am sorry I have missed your call..."

I didn't recognize the voice. It had the barest trace of an accent. Most people wouldn't pick up on it. But I did.

The Russians. What was I in for? I hung up.

Was I just going to sit here, waiting? Or was I going to be a good little dog when some person unseen rang my bell?

The ticket was for today. I could make the flight if I left immediately. I packed a bag and caught a cab to the airport.
(Splotchy again)

The pressures of today's economy. Flight cancelled. Airline out-of-business. Three months ago. Something was out of sorts, here. Why would someone send me a ticket on a defunct airline? I was starting to feel exposed, out in the open, like prey in a valley.

First order of business was to hit the head. I needed to collect myself and not draw attention. I forced myself to walk, even with the hairs on the back of my neck bristling, uncertain if, even now, someone was following. Had I walked into some kind of trap?

The men's room door opened just a little too quickly, the screws loosened from constant use. That sticky smell hit me as that horrible men's room air shot into my nose.

Something was wrong.

I felt heavy and thick, and saw the world go askew. I was off balance before it even registered that something hard had been jabbed into the back of my neck. I put my hand against the wall to stop myself, but the back of my head exploded in pain, I saw a flash of light, and then nothing.
(SamuraiFrog)

When I came to, I was no longer in the men's room; I was in the back of a moving vehicle, a walk-through panel truck - a delivery van, perhaps. My feet were free, but my hands were bound securely behind my back. Care had been taken not to cut off my circulation, so whoever it was knew what he was doing.

"Hey!" I yelled to the two men in the cab. The passenger looked back at me, his face impassive under a Denver Broncos cap that was a size too small for his head.

"No talking." He turned forward again, saying something in a language I didn't understand to the driver.

"Where are we going?" I said, struggling to a sitting position. I tested the ropes binding my wrists, but my name not being Houdini, there was no way I was going to undo them. When I looked up, Broncos Cap was staring at me again. So was the business end of a 9mm automatic.

"I said for no talking."

I decided he might have a point, and sat back to enjoy the ride and wonder about where I was being delivered...

**************
What will happen next?

Perhaps (if not already tagged, or even if) Arjan, The Imaginary Reviewer, PJ and Ray might care to continue...

I've Seen It Now...

...and it's excellent!

I took my nephew to see it on Sunday afternoon - he didn't know who Iron Man is, being more a Spidey fan than anything else, but we were both totally blown away by the movie.

This is the stuff!

This is what we want to see!

And the post-credits scene?

Works for me...

Iron Man...

I haven't seen Iron Man yet, and it's gonna be at least a week 'fore I do.

I'm on call for emergencies this week, which means I have to keep my comms with me and stow my life (such as it is) in the overhead locker.

Last time I went to a movie while I was on call, I switched the thing on afterwards and it lit up with missed calls - uncharacteristically, I have to say, but there you go. Bruce and Clark were none too impressed, goes without saying, and Diana wouldn't talk to me for a week.

And it's not even supposed to be my week - I'm swapping with Dr. Invisible, who in turn is swapping with The Sorceress - grumble, grumble...

So I'm steeling my resolve in the face of all the four-star reviews out there, and I'll be seeing it next Friday.

But for 50 points and a no-prize - what's Shellhead's catchphrase? Does he have one? Or does being a billionaire absolve him from the need?

Answers, in your best font, to the usual address...

IDIOTS!!!!

I mean, how difficult can it be?

You say, "We're taking the power down from noon till 1pm Sunday for essential maintenance."

We say, "No problem - we'll come in at 1130 to observe and to switch off one or two servers of our own and the telephone and voicemail systems."

Bastards took the power down at 1100, crashing my Server Lab before I had a chance to do controlled shutdowns. To suggest I was incandescent with rage would be an understatement.

"Yeah, traffic wasn't bad and we got here early, so we just got on with it."

!

They were finished and packing up to leave by the time my co-workers and I arrived between 1120 and 1125, with no sign of the facilities manager who had announced the exercise and who, in all reason, one would have expected to be on hand to ensure things were done properly.

I checked with the Patrols desk whether the Induhvidual (thank you, Scott Adams) in question had actually been there for the work.

"Were you expecting him?" was the reply.

The missing word in that question was 'seriously', and would have the same narrative effect no matter if placed at the start or in the middle, or even as a follow-up one-word question of it's own.

What happens is this: every year we're required to shut down all power to the main building so that the electricians can check fuses, breakers, what have you - it has to do with safety and insurance and such. The IT DataCentre is protected by UPS which gives us a few minutes' battery power in the event of mains failure, but there's a generator that's supposed to kick in when mains is cut off, so we don't have to rely on batteries.

Previous experiences with our so-called colleagues in building management have led us to doubt the reliability of the generator, hence our preference for having observers onsite in the event things don't go to plan. If the generator didn't come on, at least we'd have a chance to notify the people in the power room and have them switch mains back until they could sort the problem out. If that had happened yesterday, the main DataCentre would have crashed before my co-workers and I had even arrived, and that would not have been pretty.

Further, our in-house electrical maintenance is handled by contractors from an outside company, and the switchoff was undertaken by people from yet another third-party body, both apparently unsupervised by anyone from our organisation.

To be fair to our in-house electrical guys, they do a good job and make sure we have what we need to do ours. Sadly however, they'll be the ones most likely to be blamed when the excrement strikes the ventilator tomorrow.

But consider - part of managing a project is to be there on the day to manage it!

Not miles away in case it explodes or something. It's not bravery, it's not simply good manners, but sadly it's all we've come to expect from a facilities management whose answer to a request for air-conditioning for a comms enclosure was to suggest we open a window instead.

If I had my way, half a dozen Induhviduals (thank you again, Scott Adams) would be handed their marching papers tomorrow, and the department turned over to the only person of any integrity there who, for her sins, ends up doing all the work because people approach her directly, knowing they'll get results.

I'm sick and tired of my working environment being left in the hands of self-serving, blame-shifting, responsibility-ducking incompetents who consistently and obstinately refuse to accept that we, the staff, are their clients and deserve to be treated with simple and basic respect. I look forward to the day when they are exposed for what they truly are - a waste of valuable square-footage.

A Question, If I May...

Did you ever notice how you take off a pair of socks the same way?

I mean, you don't pull one inside out and the other by the toe - it's always both the same way.

I noticed this while doing laundry.

Last Christmas I got day-of-the-week socks as a present, so I was sorting them out of the wash and saw that Monday were both inside out, while Wednesday were both rightside out.

On a hunch, I paired off the remaining socks, to find them all matched in terms of - attitude, let's say.

I just thought it curious enough for a post - or there might be too much argonite in my diet...

And The Award For Elephant Balls Goes To...

I picked up the first season of the original Bionic Woman on DVD a little while ago, seeing as how I always liked Lindsay Wagner and because Tower Records were having a sale.

It's as good as I remember, with Jaime filling the usual stereotype aliases (beauty queen, air stewardess, evil doppelganger, etc), with the occasional cameo by Lee Majors to make sure no one had forgotten the Six Million Dollar Man.

I actually had, so I went back to Tower and got the first season of that show. Curiously, I learned that it took three attempts to get Steve Austin onto the airwaves, but Universal obviously felt it was worth the effort. And it was.

So I was ploughing through the first few episodes when I came across one, Survival of the Fittest, that I was certain I'd seen before.


The plot was this - Oscar and Steve have to catch a flight to Washington following an international space conference (during which Oscar had some sensitive discussions with the Russians), but get a flat tire on the way to the airport. Even though Steve changes the tire in twelve seconds, they miss their flight, only to be given seats on a military/cargo transport that will have them in D.C. in good time. So far, so good.

Two men, Cromwell and Maxwell, get on and sit at the back of the plane - they talk about someone named Bobby who'll be there if needed.


Their goal is to kill Oscar before he returns to Washington. Other characters include a loud woman named Mona, Lt. Colby, an Army nurse acting as stewardess, an Air Force sergeant called Roberts who was once stationed at Nellis AFB when Austin was there, a naval yeoman named Helen Maychick and a PFC Robert Barris who quit medicine to join the Army.

One of the hitmen (Cromwell) activates a homing device hidden in his briefcase; the signal is received by a trawler somewhere at sea.

The plane hits bad weather; lightning strikes one engine; the pilot orders the fire extinguished; the engine explodes, dropping off the wing; the pilot sends a mayday and makes a forced landing into the sea.


Steve makes sure everyone is prepared for the landing. When the time comes to leave the plane, Steve finds the door is jammed. The passengers go to the back of the plane where there's another exit, and when they're not looking, Steve opens the door with bionic strength. Cromwell recovers his homing device before leaving the plane. Everyone (except the crew, who are killed) escapes and makes it to the beach, where they spend the night.

I'm thinking - WTF? I've seen this before, somewhere. And then it hit me - an episode of The Bionic Woman called 'Fly Jaime'. I dug out the DVD and sure enough, it's the same story.


Here's the plot - Jaime, disguised as a stewardess, has to help Rudy Wells get out of Brazil with a secret formula and meet Oscar in Washington. The plane is a mixed passenger/cargo flight.

Two men, Reed and Connors, get on and sit at the back of the plane - they talk about someone named Bobby who'll be there if needed.


Their goal is to kill Rudy before he returns to Washington. Other characters include an elderly missionary named Mrs. Griffith, an aging lothario, Mr. Romero, with eyes only for Jaime and a guy named Marlow who quit medicine for undisclosed reasons and now just bums around.

Connors activates a homing device hidden in his briefcase; the signal is received by a trawler somewhere at sea.

The plane hits bad weather; lightning strikes one engine; the pilot orders the fire extinguished; the engine explodes, dropping off the wing; the pilot sends a mayday and (bionically assisted by Jaime) makes a forced landing into the sea.


Jaime makes sure everyone is prepared for the landing. When the time comes to leave the plane, Jaime finds the door is jammed. The passengers go to the back of the plane where there's another exit, and when they're not looking, Jaime opens the door with bionic strength. Connors recovers his homing device before leaving the plane. Everyone (including the pilot, who is not killed this time) escapes and makes it to the beach, where they spend the night.

Anyway, here's the rest of the story:

The following morning, Oscar/Rudy wakes up to find Steve/Jaime missing. One of the other passengers tells him that he/she went to explore the island and that Oscar/Rudy shouldn't follow as it might be dangerous. Oscar/Rudy says not to worry and goes anyway.

He wanders through the brush calling for Steve/Jaime to show himself/herself if he/she can see/hear him.

Steve/Jaime calls out to Oscar/Rudy from an outcropping about fifty feet overhead. Telling Oscar/Rudy to get out of the way, Steve/Jaime jumps down, carrying something in a blanket over one shoulder.













"You look like a bionic Santa Claus," Oscar/Rudy tells Steve/Jaime.

Steve/Jaime produces a coconut and karate-chops it in half. Oscar/Rudy looks on in admiration.

Meanwhile, Cromwell/Connors places his homing device in the bole of a dead tree.

He and Maxwell/Reed return to the beach with wood for the fire, but not before discovering that the island has a poisonous snake problem.

Back on the beach, the survivors share the food supplied by Steve/Jaime.

Steve/Jaime takes charge, organising the passengers. Someone will be looking for them, and it won't be long before they work out the plane's last known position. He/she asks Sgt. Roberts/Mr. Romero to work out a duty roster - the fire has to be kept going at all costs.

Later, Steve/Jaime sees/hears a plane before anyone else. Sure enough, it's a search plane. The survivors throw grass onto the fire to make smoke and the plane turns towards their location, rocking its wings to show that the fire has been seen.

Supplies are dropped by parachute. Food, medical supplies, a radio, pistol and flare gun.

The hitmen order the food to be distributed, making sure they have control of the pistol, but Oscar/Rudy and Steve/Jaime get to the radio first. They contact the plane (one of which also contains Oscar, but that'd just wreck your head) and are told that their position has been passed on and that they'll be picked up at 10 the next morning.

The pilot makes sure to ascertain that Oscar/Rudy is still alive.

Steve/Jaime and Oscar/Rudy go to tell the survivors the good news.

Yeoman Maychick/Mrs. Griffith approaches Steve/Jaime and tells him/her that PFC Barris/Marlow has had medical training but that for some reason he's reluctant to help. Steve/Jaime agrees to talk to him, and, after listening to him tell his tale of misfortune, manages to persuade him to at least help out Lt. Colby/Dr. Wells, if not to do any actual doctoring.

It's later on. Steve/Jaime arrives at the medical shelter to learn from Yeoman Maychick/Mrs. Griffith that Oscar/Rudy got his/her message and has gone to meet him/her. Steve/Jaime is puzzled; he/she sent no message. Who had left the message? No-one seemed to know, it had just been passed from voice to voice...

Steve/Jaime goes to look for Oscar/Rudy, who at that moment is himself looking for Steve/Jaime. Someone hits Oscar/Rudy from behind and leaves him, unconscious, close to where the snake was found earlier.

Steve/Jaime arrives in the nick of time and, grabbing the snake before it can strike the stunned Oscar/Rudy, hurls it bionically against a large rock, killing it.

Steve/Jaime decides it might be best if they don't return to the beach until morning, and so they camp out in the hills.

During the night, Cromwell and Maxwell/Connors and Reed go looking for Oscar/Rudy and Steve/Jaime. Firing a flare in the air, they cause Oscar/Rudy to give away his position, and manage to shoot him, though not fatally. Steve/Jaime throws a rock, which hits Maxwell/Reed, putting him out of commission.

Meanwhile, Sgt. Roberts/Mr. Romero realise Steve/Jaime is nowhere to be found and goes looking for him/her. Steve/Jaime sees/hears him and tells him to go get Lt.Colby/Mrs. Griffith, to hurry, and to bring her back alone.

He does, returning with her to find Cromwell/Connors, who claims to be standing guard. As Roberts/Romero starts to tell Lt. Colby/Mrs. Griffith where to find Steve/Jaime, he is overpowered by Cromwell/Connors, and we learn that Bobby is, in fact, Lt. Colby/Mrs. Griffith. Cromwell/Connors reminds her what's at stake, but Bobby says she knows what to do.

Making her way to the camp, Bobby tells Steve/Jaime to apply pressure to Oscar/Rudy's wound with both hands, then attempts to shoot him/her with a hypodermic. Steve/Jaime reacts, shoving Bobby away; she hits her head on a log and slumps into unconsciousness. Cromwell/Connors runs for it, but Steve/Jaime gets him as well.

Meanwhile, at the beach, Barris/Marlow realises that Colby/Griffith hasn't taken any bandages with her. Taking them, he follows, arriving in time to see what has unfolded. Steve/Jaime tells him he has to get the bullet out. Barris/Marlow says it's not the bullet he's worried about, it's the vein that needs to be repaired, but that he doesn't have the equipment to fix it.

Steve/Jaime asks how he would fix it, and he replies that he'd cauterize it.

"So all you need are two hot wires?"

"Well, yes, but -"

"For the rest of your life, forget what you're about to see," says Steve/Jaime, and, taking a scalpel, cuts open his/her forefinger.

Barris/Marlow is incredulous, but Steve/Jaime tells him to take his/her hand and cauterize the vein. Which he does, saving Oscar's/Rudy's life and reviving his own self-confidence.













The next morning, the survivors are being evacuated, the bad guys in custody. Oscar/Rudy sees Steve's/Jaime's bandaged finger.

"What happened to you?"

"Oh, I cut myself shaving."

There's a humorous moment where Mona (Jo Ann Worley, who didn't have much to do in the episode) realises from Steve that she was on the wrong plane all along/Mr. Romero expresses his undying love for Jaime, and that's it.














As stories go, it's simple enough, and the red herring of 'Bobby' is nicely maintained for most of the episodes. But I mean, come on - the same story in two linked shows? Either Universal had no respect for the viewers' intelligence, or the award for elephant balls goes to...

If anyone knows of any other shows (soap operas excluded) where a script was lifted and dropped from one to the other, I'd be interested to hear.

Thank you and good evening.

Six Word Memoir...

Lee over at Quit Your Day Job got tagged by his wife with a meme, which he invites all and sundry to complete - the Six-Word Memoir.

I thought to myself (as one does) that

"Hero of Neptune, Mightiest of Men"

might be nicely appropriate.

But that's just me.

What about you?

Becca's Movie Quiz...

An interplanetary incident was narrowly avoided today, when the Movie Quote Quiz hosted by Becca over at the Skullcave was jointly won by representatives of Neptune and Mars.

The Quiz is traditionally the domain of the self-styled Martian Prime Minister, Mr. SamuraiFrog, who has the benefit of a favourable time difference to assist his inarguably prodigious cinematic mind, but the Hero of Neptune* just happened to be passing on his way from a parole hearing for the Xylak general, Hruhfuuhrr (denied) and arrived just in time to compete.

In spite of a hasty attack, The Mightiest of Men** managed to score just enough points to force a tie and be awarded this most coveted of prizes:

A promising start - but there's always next week...

*Er, me...
**Me again.