Johnny Rockstar

(this post liable to change after I reread it a few times)

Lately, I’ve been working to close Uncle Don’s email account, which involved sorting through 8,000+ messages to see if there was anything that should be kept. The vast majority his inbox was stuffed with junkmail, but in between ads for cheep medications and penis enlargement devices, I read a handful of emails to and from real people—mostly family members. Whenever I find a real message I feel that I’m walking a tightrope between scanning to see if it should be kept and respecting his privacy. It’s a strange dichotomy. Actually, every time I log into his account I get this sort of melancholy voyeuristic feeling marked occasionally by sudden glimpses into the private life of somebody I’ve always considered to be an extraordinary human being. It’s a task I find both comforting and uncomfortable, pleasant and unpleasant.

The more I think about what I’m doing, the more I think that it is a process of taking another person’s memories and freezing them forever in an electronic ice that consists at it’s very base not of atoms of hydrogen and oxygen, but as ones and zeros that I will never actually touch, just as I will never again touch Don. I may not have him physically, but will retain my own memories, my own organic ones and zeros. It’s also a process that helps force me to accept the fact that I will never see Don again. I will never spend another lazy Sunday afternoon in Ypsilanti, eating whatever gourmet-esk takeout Don happens to recommend; will never spend another weekend night between semesters on his couch; never watch a movie from his bed or play poker on his porch in the dark.

Posted by Johnny Rockstar at 01:22 PM | Permalink | Comments (4)

You know those horrible stories you tell at parties that at first seem brilliant but halfway through you realize it’s going nowhere and will end with awkward silence? While perusing the dictionary once (yes, I know how nerdy that is) I came upon the entry for Shaggy Dog Story, which perfectly described those stories. Bourke and I latched onto that definition and occasionally send each other Shaggy Dog Stories. So I was excited to find an email in my inbox today with the subject line, you guessed it, Shaggy Dog Story. Here are a few of the best lines:

“…my sore throat is so bad by now I have resorted to itching my tonsils with Q-tips”

“The doctor I saw there was a young buck about 30ish with a full blond beard and greasy long golden hair to his shoulders.”

“He takes one look into my mouth and says… ‘You have Scarlet Fever.’ The first thing I say is ‘Well, that’s not good is it?’”

I can’t begin to explain how incredibly awesome this story was. First off, he was scratching the very back of his throat with Q-tips. I get gaggy just thinking about it. Secondly, nothing ups the confidence I have in my doctor like greasy hair and bad hygiene. Lastly, Bourke had Scarlet Fever. Let me repeat that last one: Bourke had SCARLET FEVER. I didn’t know that still existed.

The story itself was probably a little too interesting/funny to be a true Shaggy Dog Story, but it made my morning.

In other news, congratulations Kelly Kelly on your upcoming marriage.

Posted by Johnny Rockstar at 10:42 AM | Permalink | Comments (0)

Friday night we checked out the specialty beer section in Kroger and found this.

Needless to say, we bought it, and I’m happy to report that not only was it fun, it was delicious too. Also, the newest HE’BREW beer, Jewbelation, contains eleven hops, eleven malts, sports a whopping 11% alcohol by volume and has a campaign revolving around the amp that goes up to 11 in This is Spinal Tap. I’ve gotta get me some of that.

Posted by Johnny Rockstar at 01:55 PM | Permalink | Comments (1)

Comfort food. Why is it always so unhealthy? I don’t often turn to food for comfort, but on the rare occasion that I do, why is it that I never crave carrot sticks? After a crummy day yesterday I didn’t feel like eating anything in my fridge, so I went to the Wal-Mart to look for something cheese-stuffed to smother my sorrows with. Fortunately, I was able to talk myself out of eating an entire frozen pizza for dinner like I had planned. Instead I had three packs of beef flavored Ramen and a Pepsi. As far as comfort food goes, it probably wasn’t that bad of a meal.

Posted by Johnny Rockstar at 10:08 AM | Permalink | Comments (2)

On account of the several calls I’ve gotten this morning, I’d like to say that no tornadoes came through Batesville. They tell me that because we’re in a valley, we don’t really get them right here. Also, despite tornadoes all around her area, Kathryn made it out alive as well.

Posted by Johnny Rockstar at 10:15 AM | Permalink | Comments (6)

There are two ways to look at the new to DVD movie Resident Evil: Extinction. You can either see it as the best yet in the series of Resident Evil video game adapted (possibly better stated, inspired) movies, or you can see it as just another poorly executed zombie movie with bad actors and cheesy dialogue. As the former, it’s actually quite good. But that’s only because the first two Resident Evil movies were so horrendously bad. And to say a movie is good, only because it’s not as bad as what came before it… well that’s just not a glowing recommendation no matter how you spin it.

Even as the best of bad trilogy, I still found myself wincing every few minutes due to a continuous string of bad decisions made by not just by the director, but also by the writers, the actors, the makeup artists and nearly everyone else involved in the film.

I’m a strong proponent of the willing suspension of disbelief needed to enjoy sci-fi and horror movies. I’ll let myself believe that it is possible to reanimate dead tissue; I’ll let myself believe that there is a private corporation large enough to have massive city-sized underground bunkers on every continent; I’ll even let myself believe such a company could create an artificial intelligence that is capable of projecting itself, in holographic form as a small child, in any area of any of these complexes. To enjoy Sci-Fi and Horror, these are things that you must be willing to embrace. After all, it’s not that huge of leap from HAL 9000 to a computer’s manifestation of an eerily innocent looking little girl who goes on a homicidal killing spree. Then again maybe it is.

I point these things out, though, to show how far I am willing to suspend my own disbelief before I truly start to question the movie. But when Alice, played again by Milla Jovovich, suddenly finds herself endowed with psychic powers that allow her to lift heavy objects and fry the circuits of a satellite passing somewhere far overhead with her just mind, I find it impossible to play along anymore. At that point Extinction degrades into just another B horror movie with mediocre actors hamming up already bad dialogue.

All that said, if you enjoy mindless zombie killing (I do), post apocalyptic scenarios (I do) and gunfights (I do), it's still worth renting.

Posted by Johnny Rockstar at 11:14 AM | Permalink | Comments (1)

My office shut down yesterday morning around 10:30 because of a snowstorm. Even though it was hardly a “storm” by the standards I’m used to, there was definitely enough that by the time I got home, my neighbors had built quite an impressive snowman that was still standing this morning. I miss Michigan winters, so this is a nice treat.

I stopped by the coffee shop on my way home yesterday for a hot drink and enjoyed being able to soak up the warmth while I shrugged off the snow my coat caught on the quick walk from jeep to front door. If I hadn’t been in a hurry to get home for a nap, I would have sat by the window and watched the snow fall for a while. It’s a rare occasion that I get a chance for a midmorning snooze.

Posted by Johnny Rockstar at 09:59 AM | Permalink | Comments (7)