A Day in the Life of a Typical American, or how I learned to stop worrying and not be hypocritical about ‘socialism’

Posted on August 16th, 2009 in Commentary,Engineerboy,Health and Fitness,Politics by EngineerBoy
Keep the Government Out Of My Life!

Keep the Government Out Of My Life!

A day in the life of a typical American:

Your alarm clock rings, having been powered through the night with an uninterrupted flow of electricity generated by a power company that is a regulated monopoly.

Your alarm clock didn’t catch fire overnight, nor did any other product in your house, because their safety is regulated by consumer product watchdog agencies and federal trade regulations. 

However, if you had somehow had an accidental fire, you could have picked up your phone (regulated monopoly) and called 9-1-1 (municipal service) and had the fire department (municipal service) on site within minutes saving your home and possessions.

As you move through your morning routine in your house, which is still standing because it has been built to meet building codes, you turn on your television and watch the news and weather channels, both controlled by the FCC.

You get an accurate weather forecast from the NOAA, which has gotten detailed satellite imagery from NASA, and see that today will be rainy.  Fortunately, your drive to work will be unimpeded because the local flood plain has been scrupulously mapped and flood control reservoirs and runoff controls have been established to protect you from all but the most egregious conditions.

You eat your breakfast, which doesn’t kill you because of FDA controls, and maybe take your medicines, which also don’t kill you.

You get in your car for your commute, secure in the knowledge that your government-mandated seat belts, air bags, and anti-lock brakes will help protect you from the weather, and your tires meet the government codes for handling on slick streets – as do the tires of all the other cars on the road.

The roads do not wash away in the rain because they are built to meet government codes for roadways, and you check the clock – which is 100% accurate because it is synchronized with the atomic clock at the US Naval Observatory via the nationwide radio signal – and see that you’ll make it to work with time to spare.

You drop your kids off at public school, then you stop for gas, secure in the knowledge that the gasoline is free from impurities and meets the operating requirements of your vehicle, and will be delivered via a mechanism that is 100% compatible with every vehicle on the road by virtue of governmental standards.

You live through the work day in an office that meets OSHA standards, and have your lunch in a cafeteria where the food is safe by virtue of regular inspections and staff training mandated by the government.  You get your paycheck, as guaranteed by law for the work you have performed, and head for home.

Your drive home is not interrupted by criminal activity or civil unrest, because the local police officers, sherrifs, constables, and guard forces ensure the peace and tranquility of society.  Also, when you arrive home, you find that your house has not been ransacked, nor has it been confiscated by a foreign government, thanks to the protection of our armed forces.

When you get home you see you got a couple of birthday cards, and then spend a few minutes leafing through new magazines, all delivered by the US Postal Service.  You take your dogs for a walk on publicly maintained sidewalks down to the public park and walk around the public walking trails, and stop to drink water from the public fountains and let your kids play on the public playground equipment.

You spend the rest of evening watching television on a system made up of completely interchangeable and compatible components, because the government sets the standards to ensure interoperability.  Later you surf the internet, which was developed by the Defense Advanced Research Projects Administration (DARPA).

You put your kids into their flame-resistant pajamas, adjust the temperature of your home HVAC system, secure in the knowledge that it will not poison your family with fumes or gases due to the safety regulations developed and imposed by the government on such appliances.

As you sleep, your money sits safely in a bank earning interest, and your principle is guaranteed by the government.  And you know that tomorrow your currency will be accepted anywhere and everywhere as legal tender for all debts public and private, a guarantee backed by the government.

But keep the god damned government out of health care, I don’t want them intruding into my life because they can’t do *anything* right!!!

District 9 (***½)

Posted on August 15th, 2009 in Commentary,Engineerboy,Movie Reviews by EngineerBoy
Prawns a la Apartheid

Prawns a la Apartheid

If you are planning to see District 9, I urge you to stop reading reviews and just go see it.  It will best be seen with as little foreknowledge as possible, so that the film can be experienced without preconceptions.  I will warn you that this film is not for the squeamish, and the R rating is well deserved.  I don’t recall there being any sex or nudity, and the language isn’t all that bad, so you can infer from that where the R rating comes from – the violence, evil, and inhumanity.

You’ve been warned, the information starts flowing below – seriously, just go see it, then come back here.

Really, just go.

Okay, for those still reading, this film as that rare cinematic gem in that it is both completely unique and absolutely entertaining.  It took a few minutes to get my bearings as the film started, but I was quickly absorbed into the story and felt like I didn’t blink for the entire running time, except when diverting my eyes from the carnage on the screen.

We jump into the middle of a story where a gigantic alien spacecraft is hovering of Johannesburg, South Africa, and has been there for 20 years.  The aliens on board, numbering in the millions, were “rescued” by earthlings and put into a holding camp, which over the years devolved into a ghetto.  The aliens are referred to, derogatorily, as “prawns” because of their resemblence to roughly human-sized shellfish.  The prawns from the ship seem to be all be from a worker-class, and aren’t particularly smart, communicative, creative, or industrious.

They do have language, consisting of very alien-sounding clicks, grunts, and squeals, and they can understand English, and the human governmental workers that interface with the aliens can also understand their language.  The prawns are enamored of cat food, and the local Nigerian criminals are only too happy to provide it to them, at a price.  The Nigerians are also accumulating alien weaponry, even though each weapon is genetically locked and can only be fired by the aliens.

As the movie opens, the residents of Jo’burg are tired of having the aliens around, and a private conglomerate called MNU has been contracted to build a new settlement for the prawns 200 miles outside of town, and then forcibly relocate the aliens there.  Technically, the aliens have rights and there is at least a superficial attempt to try to make it all seem legal, but the aliens don’t really understand what an eviction notice is, so the logistics are kept on track by private mercenaries, who are only too happy to…uh…incent the prawns into cooperating.

MNU puts a man named Wikus Van De Merwe in charge of the move.  Wikus is a middle-management type, not really too bright or ambitious, not really evil, either…just sort of banal and thoughtless.  He doesn’t seem like he’s spent any time examining the awe-inspiring fact that humanity has discovered another sentient race, and that race is advanced enough to send a ship to our planet.  He seems about as engaged and caring as a farmer would be about his cows…yes, he cares, but only because it’s his job to care, and that care isn’t really very deep or profound.

Wikus and his team have to go through the formality of getting the prawns to “sign” their eviction notices, so that there is an audit trail showing that their forced move to the new camp is fully legal.  He goes about this job with the sort of manufactured enthusiasm that any middle-manager would have for an unpleasant and thankless task that nonetheless got him a small promotion of sorts.  He grins and bears it, tries to keep up a good attitude for his team, and even has a camera crew tagging along to document the relocation.

The crux of the story revolves around a particular alien who is definitely *not* a hive-minded worker.  He’s obviously a leader within the alien community, and he has a small son who he watches over with great fatherly care and devotion.  He’s also been on a 20 year mission to gather enough fuel to get his small command module to launch and get back up to the mothership so that he can rescue his people and go home.  He has just gathered the last of the needed fuel when he and his team are rousted by the MNU mercenaries for relocation.

Wikus, while involved in rousting this alien, becomes infected by an agent that starts a transformation of his DNA – to the point where one of his arms turns into one of the tentacled-flippers that the aliens have.  Interestingly enough, his DNA gives him the ability to arm and fire the alien weaponry, which makes him very valuable to MNU – valuable in the sense that he is a mass of tissue with DNA they can harvest to create hybrid soldiers capable of using the superior alien firepower.  However, the entity known as Wikus Van De Merwe is valueless, a complication, a glitch to be fixed as MNU moves forward to reap their billions in defense contracts.

And therein lies the story.  Wikus wants nothing more or less than to go back to being human, and to hold his wife again.  The head alien tells Wikus that if he helps recover the fuel and get them to the mothership, he has medical equipment that can re-humanize him.  MNU, however, will stop at nothing to recover the tissue culture known as Wikus Van De Merwe so that they can continue to harvest him.

The footage shot by the film-crew-within-a-film is used to book-end the movie in news report/documentary style, including interviews with key players, excerpts of newscasts, etc.  As you may have been able to infer from the above description, the storyline is quite unique.  The effects are outstanding – after a couple of minutes the digitally rendered aliens simply become characters.  The hovering mothership, the size of a city itself, looks real – or as real as such a site would look considering the unreality inherent in a city-sized alien ship hovering over a major metropolitan area for two decades.  And the weaponry is suitably dazzling and lethal.

Put it all together and it’s a movie unlike any I’ve ever seen.  There are parts that call to mind other movies – Aliens, Men in Black, Independence Day, Robocop…hell, even Office Space.  But it’s not slavish copies of those, it’s a unique pastiche of those kinds of films that came before it, but with the result being something completely fresh, and definitely worth fighting the crowds and paying the full price for an opening weekend viewing.

Michael Vick is Back in the NFL

Posted on August 15th, 2009 in Commentary,Engineerboy,Sports by EngineerBoy
An Eagle?  More Like A Vulture...

An Eagle? More Like A Vulture...

So, Michael Vick is out of prison after serving time for illegal dog-fighting, and is returning to the NFL as a member of the Philadelphia Eagles.  I believe that everyone deserves a second chance, and while I would prefer to have never seen or heard of this chump ever again, I can’t begrudge him the fact that he’s served his time and is going on with his life.
 
For a refresher on his recent history, see these previous posts:

Michael Vick Needs Psychological Treatment
Michael Vick Should Be Thrown To The Dogs

Although it’s rare, I’m sure that it’s possible for people to undergo fundamental changes in their psyche, and it may be the case that Vick has done exactly that – he had it all and then lost it all, and his fall from grace could have been enough to lead to a soul-searching epiphany wherein he achieved the enlightenment to understand that it is simply and completely wrong to  torture and kill animals that are trusting and innocent.

But I seriously doubt it.  Tigers rarely change their stripes, and people rarely change their fundamental nature.  Torturing dogs ranks up there with beating children in my book – not that the life of a dog is comparable to the life of a child, but that the mental state of a person who can inflict pain and horror onto a being that is completely dependent on, trusting of, and subservient to them is the same in both cases.

But, again, everyone deserves a second chance.  Many people who are violent to their own children are passing on what they learned at home growing up, and if they take steps to break the cycle that is an admirable thing.  Michael Vick has claimed that the torture and abuse of dogs was part of his culture growing up, and I hope that what has happened is that he has seen the light and realized that what he did was horrific. 

However, my fear is that his essential nature hasn’t changed, and all he has learned is that he shouldn’t have gotten caught dogfighting, and that he will simply find some other outlet for his narcissistic sociopathy that will lead to his re-downfall.  I am not wishing for this to happen, and hope that it does not…but I fear that it is the most likely outcome.  I just hope nobody else gets hurt in the process.

Scott’s Perfect Iced Tea

Posted on August 10th, 2009 in Engineerboy,Recipes by EngineerBoy
scotts-perfect-iced-tea

Sweet Texas Iced Tea

When I was a young teenager, my family would always tell me, “You make the *best* iced tea!”.  I was quite proud of my iced tea, and would make it regularly for the whole family, and I always made sure we had iced tea available in the summer.

However, as I got older and wiser, I realized that while I was quite competent at making iced tea, my family had most assuredly been overstating its superiority because they knew that such praise would keep me in the kitchen slaving over a hot pot of boiling water.

Their behaviors (you know who you are!) were right on the border between encouraging and exploitative, but one of the side-effects is that years spent making iced tea has led me to a recipe and method that has become quite good, if I do say so myself.  It is a far cry from my original tea-making days, but it is still in keeping with the spirit of good, old-fashioned Texas sweet iced tea.

Ingredients
5 family-sized Tetley Iced Tea Blend tea bags
1 family-sized Luzianne Green Tea bag
1 regular-sized Lipton Mint Tea bag
¾ cup Florida Crystals Natural cane sugar

Gear
Revere Ware 3 quart sauce pan
Tupperware Impressions 1 gallon pitcher
Measuring cup
Nylon spoon
Stainless steel strainer (fine mesh/net)

Fill the 3 quart sauce pan with water up to within approximately ¾” from the top and bring to a boil.  While the water is heating, put all the tea bags in the pitcher, removing the paper tags from the Lipton and Luzianne tea bags (the Tetley Iced Tea bags are string-less and tag-less, made for iced tea!).

Once the water is boiling, *carefully* pour it into the pitcher over the tea bags.  Give the pitcher a few seconds of stirring to fully immerse the tea bags, then set aside and let it steep for 30 minutes.

After the 30 minutes are up, remove all of the tea bags (one at a time, and squeezing the excess tea out against the inside wall of the pitcher so that it runs back down into the pitcher).  Once the tea bags are removed, place the strainer over the (empty) sauce pan, and pour the tea through the strainer and into the sauce pan.  This step filters out any tea leaves that may have been released by the tea bags, which have a tendency to fall apart about 20% of the time.

Pour the strained tea back into the pitcher, add the 1 cup of sugar and stir to dissolve the sugar.  Note that this step is crucial because you want to dissolve the sugar in the water while it is still warm.

Once the sugar is dissolved (only takes 5-10 seconds of stirring), add ice and/or water to bring the tea level up to an inch or so below the top of the pitcher (leaving room for the lid to snug down without getting into the tea).  Chill and serve.  Note that if you used ice for the last step, it should already be cold enough to drink immediately.

This is the most refreshing drink I know, and we always have at least one (and usually two) pitchers of it in the fridge.  The mint and green tea are optional, but I have found that the mint adds a nice refreshing zip, and the green tea adds both a subtle flavor and rumors of health benefits.  Also, you can control the sweetness to your taste and/or dietary needs.

Now *you* make the best iced tea…enjoy!

Grilled Pineapple Salsa

Posted on August 9th, 2009 in Engineerboy,Recipes by EngineerBoy
Sweet, spicy, and tasty!

Sweet, spicy, and tasty!

We’ve been on a fish taco kick lately, trying various combinations of fish, salsa, toppings, and preparation methods.  Yesterday we cooked up a grilled pineapple salsa that was really tasty, and was great on the fish tacos, recipe as follows:

Ingredients
3 tbsp sugar
1 tsp chipotle chili powder
1 tbsp salt
1 tsp garlic powder
1 fresh garlic clove
1 fresh jalepeno
2 cans pineapple rings in juice
1 cup chopped fresh cilantro
1 cup chopped purple onion
2 limes
2 tbsp sesame oil

Combine the four dry ingredients (sugar, chili powder, salt, garlic powder) in a bowl and mix thoroughly.  Drain and spread the pineapple rings out on plates or a cookie sheet and sprinkle one side with the powder mixture, flip the rings and sprinkle the other side.

Heat a skillet on medium-high until hot, then add the sesame oil.  Swirl the oil around to coat the inside of the skillet and pour off the excess oil.  Add the pineapple rings in batches making sure that each ring sits flat on the skillet, and brown the pineapple on both sides – about 2 minutes per side.  Set the rings aside to cool.

Slice open the jalepeno and remove/discard the seeds, then chop finely.  Chop the cilantro and onions, and mince/mash the garlic clove.  Slice the pineapple rings into small wedges about ¼ to ½ inch across.  Combine the pineapple, cilantro, onions, jalepeno, and garlic, and squeeze the juice of two limes and mix thoroughly.  Refrigerate for an hour (or more) to allow the flavors to combine.

Options and alternatives:  As with all sweet/spicy dishes, feel free to dial the flavors up and down to taste.  Also, if you feel industrious, fresh pineapple would be great, as would cooking the pineapple on the grill (like with a flat basket and/or in large strips).

The salsa went great with our fish tacos (complemented with tasty Texas Twisters Creamy Cilantro Cotija sauce from H.E.B for you Texans), but should also be good with pork or chicken, or just with chips.  Yum!

Funny People (***)

Posted on July 31st, 2009 in Engineerboy,Movie Reviews by EngineerBoy
funny-people

L'Chaim...and the turkey, it's kosher?

Funny People is the latest film from adult-comedy king Judd Apatow, and only the third that he has directed, after The 40 Year Old Virgin in 2005 and Knocked Up in 2007.  If you’ve seen either of those, or Superbad or Forgetting Sarah Marshall (where he was the producer), you should have a read on whether or not you’ll enjoy this new film.

George Simmons (played by Adam Sandler) is a successful star who parlayed his beginnings in stand-up comedy into a mega-career and a string of blockbuster films.  However, as the film opens, George receives bad news about his health, and faced with the gaping maw of his own mortality, begins to re-examine his priorities.

He picks Ira Wright (played by Seth Rogen) out of the string of aspiring comics performing for free at the local comedy club and asks him to take over as his personal assistant, and also write some jokes for him.  It’s difficult to tell if this move is selfish (he needs somebody around so his loneliness doesn’t consume him) or generous (he wants to pass on his comedic legacy by helping out a struggling nobody), and Adam Sandler doesn’t give us a clear read, because he plays the character as a realistic-feeling combination of neuroses, talent, affection, and dickish-ness.

Seth Rogen continues to be able to play a believable every-schlub, in spite of his rocketing stardom, and he imbues Ira with a sympathetic combination of self-doubt, opportunism, diligence, and nascent talent.

Part of the realistic feeling in their relationship may come from the fact that Judd Apatow wrote the script, and back in the day he and Adam Sandler were struggling unknowns together, but Sandler’s star caught fire long before Apatow’s, and it feels like some of the real-life dynamics they experienced have been folded into the story. 

I mean, if you look backward from today, you see that both Adam Sandler and Judd Apatow have parlayed their abilities into larger-than-life careers making people laugh, and back in the beginning they must have known that they were roughly equivalent in the talent department.  The fact that one of them (Sandler) hit it big before the other (Apatow) can easily be interpreted as luck, and the inexorable hand of fate plucking one of them from obscurity while leaving the other behind had to introduce some kind of tension and ill-feelings into their relationship (unless they were both saints).

And that dichotomy is played out in startling contrast in this film.  Ira Wright sleeps on a pull-out sofa in an apartment he shares with two other guys, one of whom (Jason Schwartzman) has scored a recurring role in a throwaway sitcom and finds endless ways to flaunt his new liquidity in the faces of his roommates, and the other of whom (Jonah Hill) is faring much better on the stand-up circuit and claims the other bedroom by virtue of being able to pay rent.

This leaves Ira as the bottom dog, working at a deli counter, struggling to get the comedy clubs to let him perform for free – hanging around and filling in for no-shows, and doing anything he can to try to hone his craft in front of an audience.  In contrast is the life that George Simmons leads – a house the size of a small apartment complex, meticulously tended grounds, beautiful pool with a beautiful view, and an endless stream of beautiful women who want nothing more or less than to be able to say they have slept with George Simmons.

But as the movie unfolds, we learn that George has no friends – no real friends.  He’s awkwardly estranged from his parents and sister.  Yes, he beds an endless stream of girls, but as he himself says – “They always leave disappointed.”  The scripts he gets are all throwaways, typecasting him from previous roles and/or trying to lure him into sequels.  Oh, and he threw away the only girl he ever loved by virtue of his constant infidelities.

And the story progresses from there.  I won’t give any more of it away, but it goes in directions that I would not have predicted, and, counter-intuitively for a story where the two main characters are named George and Ira,  it ends on a discordant note.  Not an unsatisfying one, but an unexpected and somewhat bittersweet final chord.

The good news is that while the story is serious, the people in the story are…well…funny, as the title says.  It’s refreshing to see people in a film who talk like people do in real life – referencing things that are happening here and now, companies and celebrities, events and reference points that are up-to-the-minute and sound like things you’d hear in a gathering of your own funny friends.  Well, maybe with a few more dick jokes – make that a lot more dick jokes, but why quibble.

By the end, the laughs have been laughed and the learnings have been learned, and it’s an engaging and enjoyable journey.  Funny People doesn’t raise the bar for Apatow, but it also isn’t a misfire – it feels like a necessary step in the evolution of a storyteller who has really only directed three films, including this one, and so could still be considered a newcomer, regardless of the fact that his name has become synonymous with the renewed genre of R-rate comedies.  I, for one, can’t wait to see the next Apatowian film.

Just Say No to Coconut Welcome Mats

Posted on July 25th, 2009 in Commentary,Engineerboy by EngineerBoy
Say No to Coco on the Flo' by the Do', Scro

Say No to Coco on the Flo' by the Do', Scro

Over the years I’ve owned many coconut floor/welcome mats, and I have finally come to the conclusion that they are both worthless and evil.  First and foremost, they violate their own design purpose – they are supposed to help reduce the amount of crap that you track into your house, but when you buy them they *immediately* begin shedding little bits of coconut husk fibers, so that the area inside the “protected” door starts to look like the floor of the Shredded Wheat factory.

Secondly, the mats themselves are impossible to keep clean.  The fibers are so densely packed that any dirt or mud that gets into them is virtually impossible to get out through any means that doesn’t also start causing pattern baldness.  If you spray it with the hose, that seems to simply compact the dirt further down into the fibers.  If you use a pressure washer it will simply blast the fibers loose from the backing, which will eliminate the trapped dirt, but at what cost?

And a word of dire, dire warning – do not, under any circumstances, attempt to run a coconut mat through your washing machine.  Not even for a quick wash and rinse.  Trust me.  Really.  Trust me.

The reason I know this is that, like all men of progress, I was willing to take risks on behalf of my fellow men (and women) and learn hard lessons by not being too embarrassed to end up in a catastrophic failure of epic proportions.  Heed the following tale of warning.

Let me begin by saying that those of you who are smirking at the stupidity of attempting to clean a coconut welcome mat in the washing machine, and who confidently presume that such an activity could only end in tears, are suffering from a lack of imagination that is all-too-common, and which is a primary contributing cause of humanity’s failure to solve some of our most challenging problems, such as curing cancer or eliminating the designated hitter, because of our timidity in trying solutions that might seem idiotic at first, but whose true efficacy can only be measured by practical experimentation and the willingness of the experimentor to risk great failure while striving for great success.

In other words, I really fucked up.  We had family coming to visit for the weekend, and I was doing some early, proactive house cleaning to try to get ahead of the curve.  If you exit the back of our house, you will first step out into the laundry room and from there step out into the back yard.  We have three big, rambunctious dogs who have free access to the fenced backyard by virtue of a dog door through the back door.  And our dogs show no hesitation in tracking in anything and everything they step in, which is particularly irksome when it’s raining.

In order to try to control the influx of dirt and crap, we implemented a three-phase system.  Outside the dog door there are rubber mats, that are in a lattice-like pattern, meaning they are not solid rubber, but have regular openings that go all the way through.  These mats provide a wonderful first-stage cleaning station for our inbound dogs, because they have to traverse the mats to get to the dog door.  We have two of the mats stacked up and held together with zip ties in order to increase the capacity of the gaps to trap and hold dirt.  This step works really well and removes 60%-70% of the inbound crud.

Step two is (or was) a coconut mat on the floor of the laundry room, and step three is (or was) a coconut mat in the kitchen just inside the door from the laundry room.  This three-stage setup worked great, for a couple of weeks.  But then we noticed that, while the coconut mats were good at absorbing wet dog prints, they were also prone to releasing loose fibers.  Constantly.  So many fibers that if we vacuumed the mats they would clog the vacuum.  I began taking them outside and spraying them down to clean them, but that seemed to only more deeply imbed the dirt into the fibers, while also conveniently loosening more fibers to fall out later.

So, our three phase process was broken – dirt coming in from outside was being controlled, but the cost was coconut fiber husks everywhere.

What I didn’t know at the time was whether or not the shedding of coconut husks was an ongoing issue for these mats, or if it was some kind of shake-out that had to occur, and which would stop once all the loose fibers had been removed.  I figured I’d decide one way or the other by running one of the mats through the washing machine.  I planned the event carefully, and even accounted for the fact that it might fail miserable, and I was standing by to yank the mat out of the washer at the first sign of trouble.

So, I took one of the mats, put it in the washer, set it on a gentle cycle, and let it rip.  The basket filled with water, the agitation started, and stood there watching with the lid open.  The water got dirty very quickly, but there didn’t seem to be a huge number of fibers coming loose.  I watched it for about five minutes, and things seemed to be working, so I decided to wander away and do some more housecleaning and check on it every few minutes.

What I didn’t realize was that at some point between the five and ten minute marks would be when hundreds of thousands of little coconut fibers would all release at the same time.

When I came back, the washer basket was filled with free-floating little coconut fiber husks.  I immediately stopped the washer, flung the dripping, foamy rug out onto the back driveway, and scooped out as many of the fibers manually that I could.  I then ran the washer through a cycle to flush the pipes…or so I thought.

What actually happened is that the coconut fibers had clogged the drain line for the washer, so when the washer would drain, the water would simply back up the drain pipe and flood out onto the floor of the laundry room.  Our washer drain line is prone to clogging anyway, so I have a plumbing snake there, but couldn’t seem to punch through the clog. 

I finally determined that the clog wasn’t at the nearest elbow, but somewhere further down the line.  The line wasn’t fully clogged, just running really slowly.  I poured four large bottles of drain cleaning gel down the line and let it set overnight.  In the morning, voila, it was draining cleanly!  Happy ending, yes?

No.

I then went to the kitchen sink to wash dishes, and as I washed I noticed that the water was draining slowly – so slowly it started filling the sink.  If I stopped the water at the faucet, the sink would eventually drain, but it was s—-l—-o—-w.  Apparently, the coconut husks had managed to backwash up into the drainline for the nearby kitchen sink.  I resolutely applied the same solution to the kitchen sink as I had applied to the washer – four bottles of drain cleaning gel, and let them set overnight.

And in the morning, voila, no difference.  What?  How could four bottles of drain cleaner have failed?  I don’t know, but they had.  At this point, our visitors were set to arrive later that day, and plumbing problems plus houseguests is never a good combination.  I was at the point that all handymen dread – I was considering calling a plumber.

A point of order here – even I find it ironic that I would refer to myself as a “handyman” when I had just done something as stupid as washing a coconut door mat.  However, in my defense, I fully expected that the experiment could go awry.  I just underestimated the degree.

So, there I was, main drainline clogged with coconut husks.  An overnight session of drain cleaner had done nothing.  Incoming houseguests already launched and approaching target.  Expensive plumbers just a phone call away, but timeliness could be an issue.  I wracked my brain for one last attempt at fixing it myself.  My brain was racing – the clog was too far back for the snake to reach.  The husks were too tough for drain cleaner to eat them.  Time was too short for me to start disassembling plumbing.  What to do?

And I then had a wild thought – what if I try to boil it out?  Specifically, what if I boil two huge pots of water, then pour them down the slow sink?  I mean, even coconut husks would have to soften under the onslaught of boiling water, right?  Right??

Right!!!  It worked beautifually.  I boiled water in two of our largest pots.  While the water was boiling I let the sinks drain, so that there was not a lot of standing water to contend with.  When the first pot was boiling I poured it right down and waited.  Nothing.  However, I could sense (or maybe it was just hope) that this first pot of boiling water was softening up the coconut, making it looser and more amenable to being flushed away.  Once the first pot of water had mostly drained, and the second pot was boiling, I poured the second pot of boiling water down the drain.

And waited.  Fifteen seconds – nothing…twenty seconds – nothing…thirty seconds – audible burbling…forty-five seconds – visible burbling in the water…sixty seconds – blurp/whoosh, there it went!  Woo hoo!  It worked.

Yes, it worked.  But it was a close one.  In retrospect, trying to wash a coconut floor mat was one of my least bright ideas.  However, I feel I offset that stupidity with the boiling-water trick, and so this turned into a zero-sum event from the perspective of my handy-ness.

And to all you who are considering coconut floor mats – think again.  They don’t work.  They can’t be cleaned.  They can’t be bargained with, they can’t be reasoned with, they don’t feel pity or remorse or fear, and they absolutely will not stop shedding husks, ever, until you throw them out and/or douse their progeny with gigantic pots of boiling water.

You’ve been warned.

The Hangover (***½)

Posted on June 27th, 2009 in Commentary,Movie Reviews by EngineerBoy
We call this "The Loser Bench"

We call this "The Loser Bench"

It would not be possible for me to recommend “The Hangover” highly enough.  This movie is laugh-out-loud funny from beginning to end, and is driven by the script, the story, and the situations, not by “stars”.  Hollywood has gotten lazy about making deals instead of making movies, and have developed a pattern of putting A-list stars into films with mediocre scripts and huge advertising budgets, and just expecting us to show up because we don’t know any better.

Well, now you know better, at least about this film.  Parts of it are raunchy, but that’s not its purpose – the raunch is essential to the plot.  And the plot sounds hackneyed, but it is *not*.  This is the story of four friends who go to Las Vegas for a bachelor weekend to send off one of their group.  They plan to spend the night doing anything and everything, and then leaving it all behind because what happens in Vegas, stays in Vegas.

The film starts conventionally, setting up the four main characters – Phil the school teacher (Bradley Cooper), who feels trapped by his wife and family and thinks nothing of pilfering his students’ field trip money to embiggen his Vegas stake; Stu the dentist (Ed Helms), whose harpy girlfriend is the distillation of every man’s worst nightmare; Doug the groom (Justin Bartha), the nice guy marrying the nice girl and whose nice families are nice; and Alan (Zach Galifianakis) the…the…cipher? …the…uh…weirdo? …er…pedophile? …um…genius??  Well, Alan is a puzzle as it’s hard to describe a man who is legally restricted from getting with 200 feet of a school (or a Chuckie Cheese), who learns card counting from a book and scores a bundle at the tables, who wonders if Caesar ever really lived at Caeser’s Palace, who blames Al Qaeda for society’s intolerance of masturbating on a commercial airliner, and who actually seems like a nice, if misunderstood (or un-understandable) guy.

These four borrow the prospective father-in-law’s classic convertible Mercedes and head across the desert to get their groove on in Vegas.  After they check-in to the hotel and do Jäger shots on the roof, the story flashes forward to the next morning, when Phil, Stu and Alan wake up to a Gordian knot of repercussions from the previous nights festivities.  Their $4,000/night suite is a wreck, a rooster struts and clucks among the carnage, there’s a baby in the closet, a tiger in the bathroom, and Doug is missing (and so is one of Stu’s teeth).

The rest of the film is the story of them trying to remember what happened so they can find Doug and get him to the church on time.  They piece the night together from clues and guesses, and retrace their steps on their quest for Doug.  And their path was long and winding, as well as outrageously hilarious.  I won’t go into any more details, but let’s just say that the movie deserves a second viewing, if only to catch the things you missed while you were laughing.

And it’s always nice to see the birth of a star – Zach Galifianakis shines throughout this film, in such a way that you can see that he has vaulted up the Hollywood pecking order on the strength of this performance alone, and should be able to leverage this appearance for a long and prosperous career, if that’s what he wants.  He doesn’t exactly steal the show, because the show is outrageous and over-the-top to begin with, but he definitely shines the brightest.  And the other central players should also see career boosts from this, although maybe not to the degree of Galifianakis.

Put it all together and you have a movie that is both intelligent and stupid, and is a true laugh riot.  Note that if you are easily offended by…well…anything, then you may want to skip this movie because there are a lot of offensive things in it.  However, they are not done for shock value, they flow naturally from the characters and storyline – but they are no less shocking.

And stay for the credits. 🙂

Drag Me to Hell (*)

Posted on May 31st, 2009 in Entertainment,Movie Reviews by mynagirl
Gimme my $3.50 matinee ticket price back!!

Gimme my $3.50 matinee ticket price back!!

What a terrible waste of an afternoon out of the house!  At least we ate sushi.

When the ad campaign for Drag Me to Hell came out a few weeks ago, I was cautiously optimistic.  Over the years, Engineerboy has educated me in the way of Sam and Ivan Raimi: Evil Dead, Evil Dead II, and even Army of Darkness.  Hilarious, silly, fun, campy, sly horror.  Classics.  I’ll watch them any time they come on cable.  Who can resist … uh… deciduous molestation, anyway?  And Raimi’s a big-time director now, and the three Spidey films to his credit have given him the stick in Hollywood to go back to his old schtick.   

If only he had. 

Drag Me To Hell isn’t a fun, campy Raimi flick.  It isn’t even a straight-up good fright of a horror movie.  There elements of each are there, but you can’t just toss frozen beef and an uncut carrot into a pan and call it stew.  Nor can you splash some wine and lob a cupcake in the pot and hope it makes a whole meal.  A movie’s only campy if you commit to it and have some humor.  If you play it straight, even a little bit, the campy parts become lame.  At the same time, you lose your ability to do effective horror if you kowtow to the current market and, pardon the vulgarity, pussy out with a PG-13 rating, unless you’re really really creative.  

And this movie wasn’t.  Give me some exploding intestines, give me chopped up brains, if it’s straight up horror I’m okay with it.  (Although the best horror movies show some of the least, à la Jaws and Aliens).  But seriously?  This stuff?

Spoilers, blah blah blah…

A gypsy curse, really?  A fortune teller?  A girl who’s thin now but used to be fat as a kid?  Animal sacrifice?  The “I’m a Mac” guy?  (Actually he wasn’t bad with what they gave him to work with). 

I won’t even bother to detail the plot to great length, it’s so pedestrian.  Aspiring-career-girl-not-good-enough-for-rich-boyfriend’s-family, bank, gypsy, foreclosure,  tough moral decision, curse.  It’s exactly what you expect of throwaway PG-13 marketed-to-teens crappy-ass pseudo-horror dreck.  The soundtrack is obviously ominous to a fault, with omnipresent screeching Eastern European violins.  The girl hears weird sounds but oh it’s just a rusty gate.  On the path to her $2 million dollar rusticly completely furnished adorable house above the LA hills.  Oh but wait it’s the wind.  Oh wait it’s really the ghost of what must be the devil, because it’s a shadow with horns.   Oh, it breaks windows.  Yawn.

Then here comes the stuff that I couldn’t watch, the only way you can make PG-13 horror: the gross-out crap.  Ok, maggots,  fly in the sinuses, kinda creepy, we’ll allow it.  But the old lady’s body spewing embalming fluid all down the girl’s mouth?  (From which girl stands up shocked and marvelously un-spewed-upon).  Blood flying from her nose and spraying a 7′ radius?  Eyeballs popping out and the girl swallows them?  If this isn’t camp then what the hell is it?  It’s just stupid!

There were some Raimi trademarks, even sadder to see them so awkwardly used.  The low-but-fast-moving point-of-view of evil, the synth/doubled evil spirit voice, the suspended-in-midair possessed body hurling insults, an inanimate object suddenly animate and giving little squeaks as it’s “killed”… all trademark, all horribly out of place in a purports-to-be-serious horror film.   Throw in some humor, throw in a little Bruce Campbell, something, and this movie goes someplace fun.  Where’s the disembodied hand under a bucket with “Farewell to Arms” sitting on top of it?  Where’s the “Who’s laughing now?”  Where’s the mumbled misremembered incantation for the Book of the Dead? 

If I want serious horror, I’ll watch 28 Days Later.  If I want camp, I’ll re-watch Evil Dead II.   This movie could’ve been either but in trying to be both it was neither.  Personally, I wanted to love it because of the trademark touches that felt like they were honoring me as a true fan.  But honestly this dreck could’ve used a little more tuning and tinkering time in the workshed.  Better luck next time, boys.

Night at the Museum: Battle of the Smithsonian (***)

Posted on May 25th, 2009 in Commentary,Movie Reviews by EngineerBoy
Honest(ly huge) Abe

Honest(ly huge) Abe

We had never seen the first movie in this series, Night at the Museum, but ended up watching it a couple of days before going to see the new installment, Night at the Museum: Battle of the Smithsonian.  We found the first movie to be enjoyable and forgettable, but funny enough that we decided to go out and see the sequel this weekend.

Battle of the Smithsonian is, quite enjoyably, more of the same, but on a larger scale.  Many of the familiar characters from the first film are back again, and a host of new characters are added.  Also, this film takes place across the campus of the Smithsonian museum buildings, and makes sure to pull some of the personality of the museum itself into the mix.  Smithsonian isn’t trying to hide a history lesson inside a Ben Stiller action-comedy, far from it.  There are historical references, many of which will fly over the heads of the young target audience, like Sputnik.

For example, at one point in the film a couple of the characters step into the life-size print of the famous Life magazine photo of a returning sailor kissing a nurse in Times Square.  The characters wander around Times Square chased by Egyptian spearmen, and eventually step back into the Smithsonian.  Unfortunately, one of the characters has dropped his cell phone in the crowds, and a young serviceman picks it up and shouts after him that, hey, mister, you dropped your…whatever this thing is.  Later, over the end credits, we see that same young serviceman working at an electronics bench in the 40’s, and his mother calling him to dinner from the other room.  He tells her just a minute, he thinks he’s onto something, and she shouts back with the unbending will of mom’s everywhere and says, “You put down whatever that is and you get in here right this minute, Joey Motorola!”  There was a row of about a dozen 8-10 year old boys sitting in front of us, and they all spun around and stared at us when we cracked up at that line.

There are also Tuskegee airmen, simian astronauts, gangsters, Tsars, emporers, huns, painting subjects, and even NASA mission control techs (played by Clint Howard, who has recognizably played such techs in many other films) that will resonate much more deeply with older audience members, but which also provide an extra layer of humor apart from yet another predictable round of slapping the monkey.

The story of the current installment is that Kahmunrah, the evil older brother Ahkmenrah, has come to steal the magic plate from his younger brother.  The plate is what brings all the museum characters to life between sunset and sunrise each night.  Kahmunrah knows that the plate can be used to summon the army of the dead and allow him to take over both the day and night-time worlds.  It’s up to Larry Daley (Ben Stiller) and his band of pals to stop him.

Let’s just say that hilarity ensues, some of it juvenile, some of it more refined, some of it falls flat, but overall this is a funny and enjoyable film.  It won’t win any awards for the story or the acting, although it might get some technical awards for the effects, which are beautifully done.  Don’t go in expecting great art or even classic comedy – this film is a fine Memorial Day break, worth the price of a ticket and concessions, and you’ll walk out smiling.

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