Let me take the briefest break from my studies to notice the induction of Viggo Mortensen into the exclusive group of actors called Team Famously Obscure. Congratulations, Mr. Mortensen. You're in good company.
The Team Famously Obscure Dossier
Leader: Bill Paxton
Code Name: 6-Pax
Member since: May 1976
Quick Fact: Paxton has made several short films, one of which, Fish Heads, appeared on Saturday Night Live in 1982.
After years of vying for top spot, Paxton finally became leader by starring in HBO's most talked-about show since Six Feet Under, Big Love. Back in mid-2005, then-TFO leader Dennis Quaid called the move "risque" to play a polygamist. Despite Quaid's prediction, Paxton's powerplay paid off. This is the second time Paxton has enjoyed being the leader of this group of unsung greats. The first time he was leader was directly after the release of Titanic, where he played underwater explorer Brock Lovett. This first reign was short, as bitter rival Bill Pullman soon started taking credit for the role. The two haven't spoken since.
Captain: Dennis Quaid
Code Name: Textana
Member since: May 1976
Quick Fact: Quaid's code name is an amalgamation of his two favorite states in the union.
Just unseated by his TFO cohort Paxton, Quaid is credited with the creation of this elite group of actors. Despite this noble recognition as founder, however, Quaid insists that it was a joint effort between himself and Paxton. They met on the set of Crazy Mama back in 1975 and found a common interest in their collective obscurity, and, incidentally, their homestate: Texas. The two got to talking, says Quaid, and "things just materialized." In mere months their HQ in Montana was completely operational. Quaid has only once been ranked lower than Captain, right after the release of Innerspace. It was after this release that new-comer Bill Pullman took Quaid to task for allowing then-girlfriend Meg Ryan to "just hang around HQ, eat our food and shit." Paxton agreed with Pullman, and Quaid was demoted. Quaid has since admitted his wrongdoing.
First Lieutenant: Gary Sinise
Code Name: The Crusher
Member since: December 1995
Quick Fact: Sinise plays bass guitar for the Lieutenant Dan Band*.
Sinise, probably the most controversial member of TFO, was inducted after meeting Paxton on the set of Apollo 13. Both Quaid and Pullman initially disagreed with Paxton's nomination of Sinise, mostly for the, as Quaid put it, "totally not" obscure appearance in Forrest Gump. "Everybody knows Lieutenant Dan," remarked Quaid, scornfully. When it looked as though Sinise would not make the cut, Sinise, in a last-ditch effort to join, vowed to never play a memorable character in a film again. Soon after the vow, Quaid and Pullman reluctantly approved Sinise's induction. Sinise has to this day kept his honorable vow.
Treasurer: Bill Pullman
Code Name: Eyeshot
Member Since: November 1987
Quick Fact: Pullman's code name comes from the little-known fact that Pullman lost his sense of smell after an accident in college. He claims that, like the enhanced hearing effect that blind people experience, his sense of sight was enhanced after this accident. His doctor, as well as the other members of TFO, are skeptical of this claim.
Pullman's most recent controversy surrounds the aforementioned incident where he, for a short time, claimed to be Brock Lovett in the film Titanic. This part was, of course, actually played by Paxton. Quaid and Sinese, however, were none the wiser and fell for Pullman's trick (despite Paxton's fervent claim that he was in Titanic). Seeing no reason for Pullman to lie, as he usually had good standing in the group, Quaid and Sinese approved his ascension to leader. Pullman was leader of TFO for a short, 14-hour period, during which time Paxton took Quaid to the theater to prove that it was he who was in Titanic, not Pullman. Quaid was not convinced until the credits rolled. Pullman was immediately demoted and reprimanded for this deceit. Had Pullman not obtained the Immunity Gown by completing a series of difficult team missions (one of which was "First Member to Play President," which Pullman did just one year before in Independence Day), he most certainly would have been excommunicated from the group. To make up for his wrongdoing, Pullman has made an extra effort to be famously obscure by acting in completely unmemorable parts. This effort has not been lost on Sinise and Quaid, but Paxton has not spoken to Pullman since the incident.
New Inductee: Viggo Mortensen
Code Name: Velvet Thunder
Member since: April 2006
Quick Fact: Mortensen's real name is Febrey Chatsworth. He changed it to something a bit more marketable.
Mortensen was elated when he heard this month that his induction was approved by all members of TFO. Although his work with Lord of the Rings highly jeopardized his induction, the TFO recognized that Mortensen had applied for a membership long before LOTR, around 1997, when his work was completely unrecognizeable. Also, an unmistakenly large part of Mortensen's induction had to do with the four existing members of TFO viewing a film together (a custom they share every first and third Tuesday of the month) called A History of Violence. Regardless of the fact that it's now Quaid's "favorite film ever, hands down," all four members agreed, during their post-movie discussion at Cold Stone, that Mortensen was the exact combination of Paxton, Quaid, Sinise, and Pullman rolled into one. This, explained Paxton, "fulfilled the prophecy of the TFO Manifesto." Continued Sinese, "He's the one. If he's not, I'll eat my foot." Mortensen was immediately approved and, once the secret trials were completed, inducted earlier this month.
*This is one of the very few true facts in this article. I kid you not. Here's the proof. Honestly, it's very cool that Sinise is doing this.
Special thanks to The Internet Movie Database, and Wikipedia.
Tags: Bill Paxton, Dennis Quaid, Gary Sinise, Bill Pullman, Viggo Mortensen, totally untrue things about celebrities whom I truly respect
Tuesday, April 25, 2006
Wednesday, April 12, 2006
The day the TV died
My TV's dying. I finally came to that realization last night - after weeks of poor performance - while watching Glengarry GlenRoss. It's quite the shame. We were just getting to the part in the movie where everyone's yelling and insulting each other.
I guess to say that it's completely "dead" would be a misrepresentation of the truth. The audio works perfectly. In fact, I tried to enjoy the film strictly by audio. One could, especially if one is me, because I've seen that film like 10 times in the last year alone; I could even picture, perfectly, the expression on Alan Arkin's face when he asks for coffee before being questioned by the police. If that sounds mundane to you, I'll submit that there's nothing mundane in this film. So there.
But again, to imply that there is no picture would be another misrepresentation of the truth. I have exactly 50% of the screen. The bottom half. On the top, it's just darkness. These two regions are separated by a blinding white light. So blinding that I truly think it would be damaging if one stared at it for a minute or so. Seriously, it freaks me out. It's like an eclipse or something. You know you shouldn't look but, hey man, that's really bright.
So while imagining the expression on Alan Arkin's face, I'm actually seeing his expression from basically the crotch down. And I don't care what anyone says, the crotch is just a horrible place to observe non-verbal communication. Scientists say that there is only one prominent crotch expression, and that is done by thrusting the pelvis. And even then, you don't have to just stare at the crotch to see that kind of thing. You can pretty much get the effect by looking anywhere on the body. (Note: Most people find it preferable if you look them in their eyes while talking to them, and especially while they're thrusting. It's off-putting and insultingly expectant to stare at somebody's crotch, waiting for them to thrust. The things you can learn on a bus, huh?)
The TV isn't even that old. I bought it in tenth grade with money I made at my exploitive customer service job. I didn't even know I needed a new TV until a friend from school observed that my room was sweet, but would be even sweeter if I had a TV larger than the one I had - just a 13-inch. This came after I had tried to impress him with my stereo, which I still own now. I turned it on and played some bitchin' track from a Dave Matthews Band album (which marks the first time in history that the words "bitchin'" and "Dave Matthews Band" ever shared a sentence). He immediately noticed the lack of bass. Being an out-of-touch dork, I prefered treble over bass those days. In fact, I think I probably hadn't fully shed the habit of pronouncing "bass" as if were a fish. In efforts to wow him, I turned the bass as far as it could go. He was indeed wowed. Overcome with the sweetness of my room, my friend, in a last-ditch effort (and low-blow, if you ask me) to chip away at my overall sweetness factor, pointed out my tiny television. At the time, it seems he was right. However, in hindsight, he was probably damn right. Turn up the bass, I say!
Being a self-conscious teenager with low self-esteem, I immediatly ran out and bought a new TV. (Some teens turned to dressing all in black or rebelling against their parents or beating up on people like me, or all three, to deal with low self-esteem. I just bought stuff.) I more than doubled the size of my last one: 27 inches. And for 7 years, it has been more than accomodating. Now, poof. Where once I enjoyed one of my favorite movies, I'm now forced to watch the expressions on Alan Arkin's crotch while he delivers his lines. And that's pretty boring, considering there's absolutely no pelvic thrusting in this film at all.
Tags: television, pelvic thrusting, peer pressure
I guess to say that it's completely "dead" would be a misrepresentation of the truth. The audio works perfectly. In fact, I tried to enjoy the film strictly by audio. One could, especially if one is me, because I've seen that film like 10 times in the last year alone; I could even picture, perfectly, the expression on Alan Arkin's face when he asks for coffee before being questioned by the police. If that sounds mundane to you, I'll submit that there's nothing mundane in this film. So there.
But again, to imply that there is no picture would be another misrepresentation of the truth. I have exactly 50% of the screen. The bottom half. On the top, it's just darkness. These two regions are separated by a blinding white light. So blinding that I truly think it would be damaging if one stared at it for a minute or so. Seriously, it freaks me out. It's like an eclipse or something. You know you shouldn't look but, hey man, that's really bright.
So while imagining the expression on Alan Arkin's face, I'm actually seeing his expression from basically the crotch down. And I don't care what anyone says, the crotch is just a horrible place to observe non-verbal communication. Scientists say that there is only one prominent crotch expression, and that is done by thrusting the pelvis. And even then, you don't have to just stare at the crotch to see that kind of thing. You can pretty much get the effect by looking anywhere on the body. (Note: Most people find it preferable if you look them in their eyes while talking to them, and especially while they're thrusting. It's off-putting and insultingly expectant to stare at somebody's crotch, waiting for them to thrust. The things you can learn on a bus, huh?)
The TV isn't even that old. I bought it in tenth grade with money I made at my exploitive customer service job. I didn't even know I needed a new TV until a friend from school observed that my room was sweet, but would be even sweeter if I had a TV larger than the one I had - just a 13-inch. This came after I had tried to impress him with my stereo, which I still own now. I turned it on and played some bitchin' track from a Dave Matthews Band album (which marks the first time in history that the words "bitchin'" and "Dave Matthews Band" ever shared a sentence). He immediately noticed the lack of bass. Being an out-of-touch dork, I prefered treble over bass those days. In fact, I think I probably hadn't fully shed the habit of pronouncing "bass" as if were a fish. In efforts to wow him, I turned the bass as far as it could go. He was indeed wowed. Overcome with the sweetness of my room, my friend, in a last-ditch effort (and low-blow, if you ask me) to chip away at my overall sweetness factor, pointed out my tiny television. At the time, it seems he was right. However, in hindsight, he was probably damn right. Turn up the bass, I say!
Being a self-conscious teenager with low self-esteem, I immediatly ran out and bought a new TV. (Some teens turned to dressing all in black or rebelling against their parents or beating up on people like me, or all three, to deal with low self-esteem. I just bought stuff.) I more than doubled the size of my last one: 27 inches. And for 7 years, it has been more than accomodating. Now, poof. Where once I enjoyed one of my favorite movies, I'm now forced to watch the expressions on Alan Arkin's crotch while he delivers his lines. And that's pretty boring, considering there's absolutely no pelvic thrusting in this film at all.
Tags: television, pelvic thrusting, peer pressure
Sunday, April 09, 2006
The day the music died
My headphones broke today. No sound out of the left. Right in the middle of my bike ride, too. I had no idea how dependent I was on music. This made the rest of my bike trip so boring that I had to cut it short. Who wants to bike-ride and listen to things like "birds" and "the wind?" Not me. How can I contemplate the genius of my favorite musical artists while coasting along the river when I'm not even listening to them? Hint: I can't.
It's for the better, really. I needed a new pair. I was beginning to think that, because of the silver color of the now defunct phones, people thought I was wearing dangling earrings. This, coupled with my propensity to have longer-than-normal hair, has made me become quite paranoid of looking like a woman from afar. Not that I have anything against women. I quite enjoy them. It's simply that I don't want to be mistaken for one.
Mind you, I prefer the headphones that you can stick in your ear, the "bud," I believe they call them. I don't know why I prefer these to the more traditional outer-ear headphones. I guess because, with the buds, it feels like I'm physically sticking music in my ears. However, despite my preference, I am not able to use the normal, just stick-n-go headphones a la Apple's iPod; the phones just fall out. I guess my ear-holes are just too big, a fact which I'm truly bitter about, deep down. How can this mold work for so many people and not me? I'm forced to ask myself, "Am I a freak?" The part of me that is somehow able to be sympathetic towards myself says, "Of course not." The other, more logical part of me says, quite matter-of-factly, "In this instance, and possibly many others, yes." So, coming to terms with my differences, I've become a fan of the around-the-ear brace attached to the bud that so many manufacturers now offer for us big ear-hole types.
So now the iPod is now somewhat out of commission. Of course, I'm relieved that it was the $15 headphones and not the $300 iPod that went on the fritz. But, despite the short life of these silver-plated, womanesque headphones, they've been there for me when I needed them: countless bike-rides along the river, road trips, plane trips, sleepless nights, walks to class, dinners alone, weddings, trips to the bathroom. I can't begin to fathom how many times great artists like Van Morrison, Bob Dylan, and Ace of Base passed through those tiny, tiny speakers. Headphones, may you rest in haywire electronics heaven from now until eternity, along side exhausted cell phones, spent VCRs, and that friend's Nintendo controller I broke like 15 years ago. You will be missed.
Tags: headphones
Yeah, that's right. I just tagged this with "headphones." And yeah, I think that someone might search that term. And when they do, I'll be laughing all the way to the bank. The bank of web-traffic. Cha-click!
It's for the better, really. I needed a new pair. I was beginning to think that, because of the silver color of the now defunct phones, people thought I was wearing dangling earrings. This, coupled with my propensity to have longer-than-normal hair, has made me become quite paranoid of looking like a woman from afar. Not that I have anything against women. I quite enjoy them. It's simply that I don't want to be mistaken for one.
Mind you, I prefer the headphones that you can stick in your ear, the "bud," I believe they call them. I don't know why I prefer these to the more traditional outer-ear headphones. I guess because, with the buds, it feels like I'm physically sticking music in my ears. However, despite my preference, I am not able to use the normal, just stick-n-go headphones a la Apple's iPod; the phones just fall out. I guess my ear-holes are just too big, a fact which I'm truly bitter about, deep down. How can this mold work for so many people and not me? I'm forced to ask myself, "Am I a freak?" The part of me that is somehow able to be sympathetic towards myself says, "Of course not." The other, more logical part of me says, quite matter-of-factly, "In this instance, and possibly many others, yes." So, coming to terms with my differences, I've become a fan of the around-the-ear brace attached to the bud that so many manufacturers now offer for us big ear-hole types.
So now the iPod is now somewhat out of commission. Of course, I'm relieved that it was the $15 headphones and not the $300 iPod that went on the fritz. But, despite the short life of these silver-plated, womanesque headphones, they've been there for me when I needed them: countless bike-rides along the river, road trips, plane trips, sleepless nights, walks to class, dinners alone, weddings, trips to the bathroom. I can't begin to fathom how many times great artists like Van Morrison, Bob Dylan, and Ace of Base passed through those tiny, tiny speakers. Headphones, may you rest in haywire electronics heaven from now until eternity, along side exhausted cell phones, spent VCRs, and that friend's Nintendo controller I broke like 15 years ago. You will be missed.
Tags: headphones
Yeah, that's right. I just tagged this with "headphones." And yeah, I think that someone might search that term. And when they do, I'll be laughing all the way to the bank. The bank of web-traffic. Cha-click!
Thursday, April 06, 2006
This guy's still making the news
Jesus, I mean. Still milkin' his 2000 some-odd years of fame.
Anyway, have you noticed that he's been in the news a lot? Like, take this amazing story from the New York Times. Talk about a revelation. It's nuts because, think about it, Judas is like the ultimate betrayer. He's in the last ring of hell, according to Dante! Now he's the exceptional disciple? Crazy.
And, believe me, I usually don't watch Dateline. That's not a zing towards Dateline - alright, maybe it is. But I was laid up in bed all Sunday and happened to catch their story on Michael Baigent, author of The Jesus Papers which claims that Jesus might have not died on the cross! Sure, this has [way] less validity, but still. Raises questions.
And here, from Boing Boing, a Florida University professor suggests that Jesus may have walked on ice not water.
Just thought it was an interesting thread of interesting stories.
Full disclosure: I am not Jesus.
[Editor's note: This is part one in a one-part series about Jesus. Please come back next time to read posts about things not relating to this at all.]
Tags: jesus, judas
Anyway, have you noticed that he's been in the news a lot? Like, take this amazing story from the New York Times. Talk about a revelation. It's nuts because, think about it, Judas is like the ultimate betrayer. He's in the last ring of hell, according to Dante! Now he's the exceptional disciple? Crazy.
And, believe me, I usually don't watch Dateline. That's not a zing towards Dateline - alright, maybe it is. But I was laid up in bed all Sunday and happened to catch their story on Michael Baigent, author of The Jesus Papers which claims that Jesus might have not died on the cross! Sure, this has [way] less validity, but still. Raises questions.
And here, from Boing Boing, a Florida University professor suggests that Jesus may have walked on ice not water.
Just thought it was an interesting thread of interesting stories.
Full disclosure: I am not Jesus.
[Editor's note: This is part one in a one-part series about Jesus. Please come back next time to read posts about things not relating to this at all.]
Tags: jesus, judas
Monday, April 03, 2006
Hot mosquito on mosquito action
It's as if insects and animals aren't going to care whether or not it's warm enough to live. They're going to breed no matter what.
This picture would have been more unbelievable if I posted it right after I took it on March 23. Especially if you're familiar with Minnesota's weather around then.
That's a mosquito clinging to a window screen as snow still remains on the ground. I couldn't quite get a good picture of the 20 or so clinging on the screen now, not 2 weeks later.
Tags: mosquitoes, spring, minnesota
This picture would have been more unbelievable if I posted it right after I took it on March 23. Especially if you're familiar with Minnesota's weather around then.
That's a mosquito clinging to a window screen as snow still remains on the ground. I couldn't quite get a good picture of the 20 or so clinging on the screen now, not 2 weeks later.
Tags: mosquitoes, spring, minnesota
Obligatory "I haven't posted in awhile" post
And I suppose I also have to make the obligatory "I swear I'll update more often" comment. As is true with most comments like this, the promise has a high likelihood of being broken. It won't be for a lack of caring though. That's a promise I can indeed make.
Apologizing aside, without anymore unnecessary ado, let's get on with it...
Man, I have no idea what I even mean by "it." What am I doing here? What's the purpose of this blog anyway? What in the hell is even going on? The internets? Blogosphere? Vlogosphere? Google!?!?!
Settle down, Jacob. Just settle the F down. Did you even introduce yourself?
That's it! That's what I can blog about now. Who am I? I'm sure theyre wondering by now.
My name is Jacob. I'm a soon-to-be graduating senior at the University of Minnesota. I enjoy fly-fishing. Grew up in rural Montana with my rebellious brother and Presbyterian minister father...wait a minute. That's the plot of A River Runs Through It. Dammit, I'm no good at this.
Maybe an anecdote. Something to warm the reader up to my style.
I remember once, I was real young. My older brother and I were killing time, fly-fishing in the Big Blackfoot River -- Dammit! I did it again. I seriously haven't seen this film in like 10 years.
Maybe I can tell you something through a series of links.
I go here for school.
This May, I will do this.
I enjoy the music of these two, this talented fellow, this cat, these four goofballs, and I simply can't wait for these guys to come to town.
If I'm alone, you can bet that I'm either listening to my iPod or The Current.
When I'm older, you know, with responsibilities and jobs and such, I would love to live in one of these.
I support social and earth-conscious products like this yogurt and this beer.
I'm having certain relations with the gal that runs this blog. (We're working on a joint vlog-project, vlogject, if you will. Again, as blogs/vlogs go, nothing is for certain, but I hope we get something going.)
And, finally, my father is Tom Skerritt. Dammit! I did it again!
Anyway. That's enough of a linkography for now. Right now, I have a pretty sweet sinus headache going on right now. I'm going to procrastinate some way that's less productive than blogging. I hope you check back later. More stories that don't involve fictional pasts in rural Montana will be included in the near future. And - gasps - audio podcasting? Yeah, I would love to vlog, but that takes, you know, audio and video equipment. So I'm going to have to blog using popular technology circa a few years ago. Sorry. I hope you return.
Oh, I'll never leave Montana, brother,
Jacob
Apologizing aside, without anymore unnecessary ado, let's get on with it...
Man, I have no idea what I even mean by "it." What am I doing here? What's the purpose of this blog anyway? What in the hell is even going on? The internets? Blogosphere? Vlogosphere? Google!?!?!
Settle down, Jacob. Just settle the F down. Did you even introduce yourself?
That's it! That's what I can blog about now. Who am I? I'm sure theyre wondering by now.
My name is Jacob. I'm a soon-to-be graduating senior at the University of Minnesota. I enjoy fly-fishing. Grew up in rural Montana with my rebellious brother and Presbyterian minister father...wait a minute. That's the plot of A River Runs Through It. Dammit, I'm no good at this.
Maybe an anecdote. Something to warm the reader up to my style.
I remember once, I was real young. My older brother and I were killing time, fly-fishing in the Big Blackfoot River -- Dammit! I did it again. I seriously haven't seen this film in like 10 years.
Maybe I can tell you something through a series of links.
I go here for school.
This May, I will do this.
I enjoy the music of these two, this talented fellow, this cat, these four goofballs, and I simply can't wait for these guys to come to town.
If I'm alone, you can bet that I'm either listening to my iPod or The Current.
When I'm older, you know, with responsibilities and jobs and such, I would love to live in one of these.
I support social and earth-conscious products like this yogurt and this beer.
I'm having certain relations with the gal that runs this blog. (We're working on a joint vlog-project, vlogject, if you will. Again, as blogs/vlogs go, nothing is for certain, but I hope we get something going.)
And, finally, my father is Tom Skerritt. Dammit! I did it again!
Anyway. That's enough of a linkography for now. Right now, I have a pretty sweet sinus headache going on right now. I'm going to procrastinate some way that's less productive than blogging. I hope you check back later. More stories that don't involve fictional pasts in rural Montana will be included in the near future. And - gasps - audio podcasting? Yeah, I would love to vlog, but that takes, you know, audio and video equipment. So I'm going to have to blog using popular technology circa a few years ago. Sorry. I hope you return.
Oh, I'll never leave Montana, brother,
Jacob
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