Spring Break RAAAAAAAAAAAAAAWKS!!

For it does, my friends. It has the Rawk Hawk seal of approval. (Hm, do I own Thousand-Year Door? I need to buy it.) Spring Break was extraordinarily awesome.

First, there was Megacon. Boy, was there ever Megacon. But I have already pontificated at length on that very subject, so nothing new there. Skiing is far more interesting news, as well as a summary of that darned project I've been chipping away at all break.

So. Skiing. We skied for four days. The conditions were surprisingly good. I mean, the temperature lingered in the 40s most of the time we were there, and yet the conditions were awesome. It was packed powder, and there was some ice, but it was on the whole very manageable. The really weird bit is that the conditions actually got better as the day wore on as opposed to getting worse, as they normally do. The crust on the ice melted and made for good skiing, when the sun came out in the afternoon and heated things up some.

This was most demonstrated on one particular run, where there were big trees shading parts of the run. As I skied over the sun-drenched parts, I could hear the crunch of powder, and as I went over the shaded bits, I could feel the scrape of the ice. This switched back and forth about two or three times a second, at the worst of times. But given that it was fairly flat at the time that those conditions occurred, it was more interesting than outright dangerous.

I'd just like to mention here, again, that No Country for Old Men was a great big piece of, er, rotten cinematic experience. The villain had no personality beyond being a walking blob of sociopathy taped to a trigger finger, the main character dies two-thirds of the way through the film offscreen and at the hands of minor characters, the other main character is completely pointless and never actually manages to involve himself in the plot, his only contribution to the movie being sardonic comments and droning conversations with other old men, and everyone who was even mildly interesting dies. Often offscreen.

But I digress. I was simply reminded of it. It sucked. Skiing was lots of fun. My father and I went out to eat at a myriad of places and had many interesting discussions. His careful side-to-side sweeping ski technique differs greatly from my slight-curves down-the-mountain bombing run technique. (This is only partially voluntary, those patches of ice make it mighty difficult to turn effectively or even slow down.) We found several good runs over the first few days, including a number of blue square slopes that were no tougher than a difficult green circle. And green circles are easy as pudding and pie. There were short bits of incredible steepness, but with large flat zones underneath, there were no problems.

Then we found one slope called Boa. It was up an enormous lift that took us into multiple double black diamond territory. Basically, when we got off at the top, a sign pointed us to Boa and about six double-black slopes. Don't make a wrong turn, if you value your lives, was the clear message behind the sign. But we gave it a go. Holy mackerel, was that an amazing run. I mean, I don't think I've had so much fun skiing in all my life. It was steep, certainly, but it allowed for great speed without punishment. There were very few irregularities and almost no bumps or imperfections in the hillside that would generally punish for going quickly. Not to say that I went straight down - that's suicide - but I did have me a lot of fun. We went on that one many, many times.

We would have gone snowmobiling, as we generally do, but the concierge informed me of the prices. $120-$140 each for a two-hour tour. As for dogsledding, which I've always wanted to try, it was $350. I didn't have the heart to ask whether that was total or for each person, because really, did it matter? So we decided that the only thing we would do besides skiing was tubing. There was a nice tubing hill nearby, which we went to go to on Thursday.

Ah, Thursday. Let me pause in this story to tell you about Thursday. On Thursday, it was snowing mightily by the time we got up. We were overjoyed at this, for fresh powder is the skier's best friend. Eagerly did we get on the lift and up to the top of the mountain, for we were anxious to experience all that there was.

Aggravatingly, it was the worst skiing of the whole time. Not that powder in and of itself is a problem, it makes for good if somewhat slow skiing, but the inconsistency was killing me. There were lumps of powder dotting an otherwise icy slope, resulting in a patchy and inconsistent run wherever we tried to go. Skiing on powder and skiing on packed/ice are very different concepts, and switching between them multiple times per second is an exhausting task. Hail did start falling about halfway through, though, to my entertainment and amusement. Generally, though, I was too tired and beaten down to continue past about 1:00. Even Boa failed me, for many humps and hills appeared as a result of the inconsistent powder allotment. This demoralized me, and I went to the bottom and sat out. But I still had high spirits, for tubing would take place later that day.

Except, not. When we got there, we were informed that the snow was too much, and the tubing facility was closed. Well, shoot. We had dinner and went home. Next day, we went home. I chatted with a nice girl named Stephanie who I sat next to. I found her situation interesting, as even as we were returning to Florida after spending spring break in Utah, she was leaving her home in Utah to spend spring break in Florida. We talked, it was fun. The headphones the plane supplied were really terrible.

Back in Gainesville (as nothing extremely of note occurred on Saturday or Sunday, that I recall, we played Travis's D&D campaign which was fun), I spent all of yesterday trying to get interviews for my news story assignment about the Large Hadron Collider. Getting up at 5:00 a.m. was the first part of this, as I needed to call CERN in Switzerland and account for the time zone differences. I was answered by a very nice woman who was quite helpful, by giving me two phone numbers. One of them, however, was never answered...and the other one was a University of Florida professor. So much for getting up early. Deep sigh.

I did get three interviews, from the eminent Drs. Acosta, Avery, and Matchev. Each of them explained to me carefully how there was absolutely no chance of the world being swallowed by black holes or converted into strange matter by the LHC, on account of if that were going to happen as a result of the energetic collisions inside the LHC, the far more energetic collisions that constantly take place in the atmosphere from cosmic rays striking Earth would have done so billions of years ago. So no troubles.

I like my final story. Then I played Super Smash Bros: Brawl all night. Then I woke up, tried to find a house to live in unsuccessfully, unsuccessfully petitioned the housing office to find out why I hadn't gotten an RA letter of either confirmation or denial, went to class, had lunch, took a shower, and here I am. Good business. But still I am busy.

Oh, yes, nearly forgot: I got another date. I shall not nearly be so manic or whatever about this girl (a rather nice girl named Amanda in my Writing for Mass Communication class) or this date, as I have seen what my desperation has wrought. I am finally beginning to figure out how to speak to women in the sort of fashion that leads to asking them out, though. So, uh, good business all around. She has tattoos, which I would normally consider a major turn-off, but they're more unusual and interesting than trashy. For instance, on her ankle, she has a hot-air balloon. If nothing else, I at least want to know the story behind that.

Here's the first part on my essay on why Star Wars: Episode I really sucked. It's fun. I'll complete it soon.
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Anakin Skywalker: A kid, ten years old, with absolutely no training, manages to build both a working pod (and a pod that is, in fact, much faster than most of the other pods on the circuit, if you noticed) and a droid that knew six million forms of communication (check IV-VI for that), which is, at my count, 5,999,998 more than he did. With parts scavenged from a junk dealer (Watto), without the dealer noticing. In his spare time from being a slave. He knew mechanical engineering, electrical engineering, software engineering, artificial intelligence, never mind the robot brain of C-3PO that had to have been built at the molecular level for the information it held and its size...and we’re supposed to swallow all this because he’s the Chosen One? Does the Force give advanced technical knowledge, now? Sure, Jedi build their own lightsabers, but not working pod-racers or droids. When they were pre-adolescent.

Speaking of Anakin having lots of free time, did his mother do absolutely anything for Watto? If he owned her, you’d think he’d have her breaking her back fourteen hours a day in his shop. And why did he and his mother have their own multi-room dwelling instead of a grimy corner of the shop? Isn’t that a little much for slaves?

The Gungans are a race of idiots. If they breathe air, why do they have underwater cities? Do they breathe both air and water? If so, why are their cities entirely aerated? And why did Jar-Jar panic when the bongo he and the Jedi were in started leaking? Yes, he’s moronic even by Gungan standards, but that wasn’t a stupid mistake, that was raw terror. Why pick that big fat idiot, Boss Nass, to be their leader? One can understand his rampant xenophobia, because some people are just like that, but why did he turn around and make Jar-Jar a general? He picked not only the most incompetent of his race of idiots, but a former exile and one who would have been executed if Qui-Gon had not interceded on his behalf. And for what? The fatso said that Jar-Jar brought the Gungans and the Naboo together. No he didn’t, he led the Naboo to the Gungans. That’s hardly bringing two races together. Queen Amidala brought them together. Jar-Jar is a guide, not a diplomat. Not that he’s any good at anything that he does.

Oh, Queen Amidala. Where shall I begin. Why is a queen an elected position? And why did the Naboo, who are apparently as idiotic as the Gungans, elect a thirteen-year-old girl to be their supreme leader? Not that she did any leading to speak of. And I can understand why a person in that position might need a decoy, or a bodyguard, but everything in the movie and Eps. II and III indicated that the painted-white girl was always a decoy. The girl who was performing high-level negotiations with the Trade Federation? The girl who spoke in front of the entire Galactic Senate? A decoy. Isn’t that marvelous. Sure, Padme was right there nearby all those times, but still. And why did this decoy order Padme around so much? Making her clean R2-D2, sending her off on an unspecified errand (when Anakin came to see her before going off to the Jedi Council)...the decoy seemed pretty free about making Padme do the manual labor. And let’s not forget Padme trooping around on Tatooine, vulnerable to the first mugger or sneak thief that Qui-Gon was too busy dealing with Watto or someone to deter. She is thirteen, though. Her judgment isn’t the best.

Back to Watto, let’s get on a sort of prevailing theme of the movie. Blatant racial stereotypes. Watto was the typical haggling Jewish merchant. “Mind tricks don’t work on me – only money.” Did you notice his scruffy black beard and oversized nose? Hell’s bells, in Episode II he was wearing what was basically a yarmulke. And he’s far from the only one. The Trade Federation people, the Nemoidians, were “Chinamen” in the most offensive sense of the term. They might as well have offered to make Queen Amidala some hot and sour soup before they invaded. And then we have the Gungans, simple-minded Jamaican stereotypes to a man. Er, to a horse-lizard-fish thing. Come on, was George Lucas actually trying to get angry letters about this movie?

The battle droids. What’s with them? Aside from the fact that they’re “easier to kill than carpenter ants,” according to Mike Nelson’s (the MST3k guy, if you haven’t seen MST3k, you’ve lived a barren life) riff on the movie, they didn’t seem to even follow their own internal consistencies. Either they were all directly hardwired to the main battle-computer on the ship – as was evidenced by the fact that when the control ship was destroyed, they lost power – or they were on independent circuits – as was seemingly evidenced by the fact that they were picked off by the dozens by the Jedi without thousands of reinforcements pouring in after them. But what am I saying? Asking for consistency from Lucas? That’s crazy talk. I’m crazy for even thinking it.

The Jedi are dumber than the Gungans. I could write a whole essay just on the idiocies of the Jedi in Eps. I-III, but let’s focus on The Phantom Menace. Their rejection of Anakin, for one thing. His midichlorian (side note: aaaaaargh) count is higher than any Jedi in history, and he was Force-sensitive and extrasensory before he knew what the Force was. So of course they’ll reject him off-hand for being too old. If you’re the Jedi Council, and you see a youngster out there who’s already unbelievably powerful for his age and training (that is: none), and who clearly has the potential to be one of the most accomplished Force-wielders ever, you either train the living daylights out of him or you kill him to stop him from going to the Dark Side. You don’t cast him aside and let him freewheel around the galaxy, especially since you just received evidence that the Sith are back. Think they’ll reject someone like him for being a few years too old? Think he’ll turn down their offer, bitter as he is about being rejected by the Jedi?

Oh, let’s not forget “Fear is the path towards the Dark Side!” Since when is fear a terrible emotion to be eradicated? Fear is a natural and healthy part of any human, or humanoid, or whatever. Do the Jedi really expect there to be no fear among their candidates? What does that do to a “fight-or-flight” situation? It turns it into a “fight, or, uh, fight some more” situation. Part of courage, which I’m pretty sure is mentioned as being one of the essential ideals of a Jedi, is having fear and overcoming it.

Why, why, why did Obi-Wan not stop back by Tatooine after the events of Ep. I and not pick up Anakin’s mother?!? If fear truly is the path towards the Dark Side, how about eliminating that particular wellspring of fear, not to mention winning Anakin’s undying loyalty that no amount of Palpatine whispering in his ear will ever overcome. They could have resolved the entire difficulty by a one-week jaunt to Tatooine. It would have been a trivial matter to change Republic credits for whatever currency exists on Tatooine, or simply buy some commodity that Watto will accept. The only difficulty that exists here is that by doing this, the plots of Eps. IV-VI would have been erased, and any amount of plot-induced stupidity is worth preserving those cinematic gems.
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I'll post the rest later.

Today's Luke-Approved YouTube Link of the Day is something I am going to have to search for right now. I don't know what I'll pull up, but...hmm, wait a minute. I think I have something. Instead of youtube, today will be collegehumor. Four links, making fun of the street magician David Blaine.

http://www.collegehumor.com/video:1722057
http://www.collegehumor.com/video:1753653
http://www.collegehumor.com/video:1795488
http://www.collegehumor.com/video:1804052

The first two are great. The third is okay, I haven't seen the fourth. There's some bad language, but above all it's just hilarious.

REPLIES.

Jake: I have hidden depths, as you well know. And, er, I don't think I actually took any pictures of your Alucard costume. Uh...sorry. I'll tell Vic, though.

Steve: Believe me, I have always kind of hoped, but the odds against it are insane. Since I don't even remember her name or what she looked like, I could know her right now and see her every day, and never know that it was her. And yes, we met on Saturday.

Mom: I sent the story to Linda. She loved it. As for your Megacon interview, it was your interjection that Dad "especially" enjoyed seeing the teenage girls in costume that had him slightly miffed.

Dad: Anything I could write here, we already discussed. So, uh, yeah.

Vic: I contend still that the difference between this story and The Things They Carried is that I don't try and present the story as fact, and I especially don't try to fill the reader's head with some nonsense about "story-truth" or "happening-truth." That author makes it sound as though he honestly believed his stories were true. I know most of what I wrote isn't true, but I just like the way it sounds.

Ciao.