Train in Vain

And now, a word about a very important issue:

Trains.

All other issues aside, I'll cast my vote tomorrow for whichever candidate will take a stand against the trains consistently blocking east-west traffic between Bountiful and West Bountiful, Woods Cross, and North Salt Lake. I've been living in North Salt Lake for the past few months, and I never cease to be amazed at how frequently this rampant abuse of power takes place.

Sometimes, the trains taunt you. You wait there for the train to pass either to the north or to the south, and then once it does, and you feel like the barriers are about to go up and let you through, it switches gears, and heads back the way it just came. Then, it changes directions again and shuffles back once more.

This charade continues on for several minutes, as people in their cars blare on their horns and unleash more curse words than in Reservoir Dogs and Trainspotting (see what I did there?) combined.

Not me, though!

Other times, the trains just sit there like Jabba the Hutt up on his dais, not moving an inch and also not caring that they're making everybody waiting in their cars even more late for trivial matters like whatever appointment they're headed to, or work, or just to get home to watch all of their DVR'd episodes of Weather Channel forecasts.

All more important things to do than sitting in an idling car, waiting for a train that will not budge.

Such was the case this morning, when I was trapped for a full 40 minutes in Woods Cross while the train sat there and did nothing. If Hollywood were to make a movie about it, it would be titled Unstartable.

In its defense, the train did, while just sitting there, accomplish far more good than the U.S. Congress has so far in the 21st century.

First-world problems, am I right?

Sadly, no candidate has yet taken a stand on this controversial issue. Maybe I'll just vote for the guy whose TV commercials air an estimated 11 times each night during "Jeopardy!", proclaiming "people before politics." He seems like a stand-up dude, even though he either conveniently forgot or doesn't want to tell anyone which political party he belongs to and doesn't want you to vote for his (allegedly) cat-murdering Republican opponent.

I'm the Angry White Loner, and I approve this message.

With Six Eyes, You Get Eggroll

Not to sound too much like a stand-up comedian—though I'm probably going to end up sounding like one anyway—but today's topic is sunglasses: What is the deal?

I've been trying to figure out why sunglasses trouble me so. Perhaps this has something to do with the fact that I already wear glasses and have had them since high school, and if I tried to put on yet another pair of lenses to keep the summer sun out of my already nearsighted eyes, then that would give would-be bullies an excuse to call me "six eyes" or something of that sort. That's why I prefer to wear hats.

I can already achieve the "Six Eyes" effect any time I go to a 3D movie. Additionally, that's also a lot of weight to be putting on your poor nose.

Other people wearing sunglasses also make me nervous. (Obviously, I'm not referring here to someone like, say, like Stevie Wonder.) Why? Mainly, it's the fact that I cannot see their eyeballs. I don't have any idea how they're looking at me when they're wearing those things. Like if they're rolling their eyes at me if I bring up something like Star Wars or "Weird Al" or any one of dozens of other topics.

And what's up with people who wear sunglasses indoors and on the tops of their heads all day long, nestled in their hair? Do they not have pockets or purses or a car to keep them in? Is it really comfortable to wear sunglasses on top of your head throughout the entire three-hour church block?

Perhaps strangest of all are those who wear sunglasses at night. Unless, of course, the point of this is to watch people when they weave and then breathe their story lines, or to keep track of the visions in their eyes. In that case, don't switch the blade on the guy in shades.

I'm jiggy with that.

Movie Review: 47 Ronin

Over the weekend, I watched a little gem of a film called 47 Ronin, which arrived on DVD via Netflix. Rarely does a movie inspire the Angry White Loner to write a review of it here on his blog, but this was one of the select few that made the cut. Add to that the fact that I watched this one by myself, ergo there was no one else present to hear and chuckle at my various witty remarks.

So, here they are.

In a nutshell, 47 Ronin stars Keanu Reeves as one of 47 samurai seeking revenge for the death of their sensei. That is the plot summed up in one sentence.

I wanted to like this film. I did. But as soon as Gedde Watanabe, who also played Kuni in UHF, appeared, all I could hear was him telling Keanu "Stupid! You're so stupid!" over and over again in my head.

Among the other highlights:

 - The ronin sign a contract in blood using their thumbprints, which coincidentally is also the way by which you can exchange old DVDs or CDs at Graywhale store. True story.

 - The plot is actually somewhat parallel to The Princess Bride. Yes, *that* Princess Bride. Really. There's a wedding that the good guys try to stop, with the hero, once thought dead, trying to save his beloved from marrying a Humperdinck of a weasel of a bad guy. There's also magic and miracles and all of that stuff. Only it appears that 47 Ronin is the rejected first draft of that script and is set in Japan.

 - Ronin apparently both have choreographed dressing and undressing routines that they perform in unison. I did not know this.

 - The white dog/dragon from The Neverending Story apparently appears to help Keanu fight one of the baddies.

 - Not since Star Wars: Episode II - Attack of the Clones have special effects been wasted so needlessly to help a character eat something by lifting some food to one's mouth via the Force (or, in this case, hair, or magic).

A bunch of other stuff happens in between, but I fast-forwarded through all of that. Isn't technology amazing?

On a scale of 1 to 10, I give it a 47.

"Weird Al" Predicts the Future

Yesterday, much of the main cast of the new, as-yet-untitled Star Wars Episode VII was revealed, and to the glee of many fans/nerds, myself included, original stars Mark Hamill (Luke Skywalker), Harrison Ford (Han Solo), and Carrie Fisher (Princess Leia) will be back to reprise their iconic roles. The new movie, set to be released in December 2015 (but who's keeping track of that in big bold red letters on their calendars?), will pick up the saga 30 years after the conclusion of Episode VI, Return of the Jedi.

I was seven years old, a second grader at Hannah Holbrook Elementary School in Bountiful, when ROTJ was released, and Dad got my older brother and me out of school for the day to line up with many other fans at something like 5:00 or 5:30 a.m. for the chance to be among the very first group to see the very first showing of the movie at a now-non-existent theater in downtown Salt Lake City. And we made it!

Good times, those. It's a cherished memory and one of the things about Dad that I remember best from my childhood.

At any rate, two years after ROTJ, "Weird Al" Yankovic came out with his Dare to Be Stupid album in 1985. Like the Star Wars franchise, it's also one of the greatest creations of all time. It included the song "Yoda," a parody of the Kinks' "Lola," which "Weird Al" fans once voted their #1 favorite song of his.

"Yoda," however, was originally intended to come out on "Weird Al"'s first album in 1983, before he hit it big and before the release of ROTJ. As such, it tells the story of Yoda only as it recounted as far as the previous Star Wars film, Episode V, The Empire Strikes Back, and includes nothing of the story of Yoda in ROTJ nor in the prequels, which didn't come along for more than a decade later anyway.

I listened to "Yoda," which is sung through the point-of-view of Luke, on my iPod today and found myself paying particular attention to the lines: "I know that I'll be coming back (to Dagobah) someday; I'll be playing this part till I'm old and gray. The long-term contract I had to sign says I'll be making these movies till the end of time."

And now, 32 years after ROTJ, and 30 years after Dare to Be Stupid, Mark Hamill, old and gray (at least, he's 30 years older and grayer than he once was) is once again playing the role of Luke Skywalker.

Nailed it, Al.

That's a Deal Breaker!

What are your deal breakers?

It's a question that got me thinking a couple of nights ago when I watched the latest episode of one of my favorite TV shows, "Studio C," and saw the music video posted here.

A deal breaker, in this sense, then, is defined as "something that makes it impossible to continue dating someone else." At least, that's how I define it.

Some of the Angry White Loner's major deal breakers include:


 -Jerks

 -Inability to be honest with me

 -Clinginess/high maintenance

 -Major baggage

 -Publicly or privately insulting or disparaging members of my family

 -Wanting anything less than a temple marriage, and/or supporting principles or causes that go directly against Church doctrine and teachings

 -Refusal to support my interests or hobbies (sometimes, this involves merely giving me time and/or space to pursue them rather than participating in them)

 -Voting Democrat

 -Preferring cats over dogs

 -Preferring country music to "good" music

 -Not liking Star Wars

 -Not liking "Weird Al" Yankovic

Just kidding about those last few. Only partly.

How Nerdy I Am . . .

When the Improvables perform, the show rarely ends when the last improv game is played, the audience goes home, and the theater doors are closed. Quite often, in fact, it is just the beginning.

Such was the case Saturday night when, following another performance at Playbills' Theater in Clearfield, we congregated over at one of our two local greasy spoons and ended up playing a game we called "Wanna Hear How Nerdy I Am?" - something we made up earlier during our warm-ups for the show - for most of the rest of the evening.

"Wanna Hear How Nerdy I Am?" basically works like this: Each person takes a turn telling a story about his/her own nerdiness, first asking the question "Wanna hear how nerdy I am?" The other members of the group reply, "How nerdy are you?" The person then tells a story that answers both questions.

Some of the more interesting stories told included tales of sewing Hobbit costumes, staying up late to read the latest Harry Potter book during the last week in the mission field, the extent to which someone went to meet her favorite rock star, and having the neighbors call the police because someone was loudly singing showtunes at 2:00 in the morning.

As far as covering all of the nerd bases goes, we discussed everything from Star Wars and "Star Trek" to superheroes and "Saved by the Bell" trivia.

Speaking of which, some of my own admissions included:

 -My LDSJEDI license plate, which was the result of an attempt to impress a girl I was dating (and a fellow Star Wars fan). When she saw the plates for the first time, she remarked, "That's a little extreme, isn't it?"

 -Dressing up in my Jedi robes to attend the midnight premiere of Star Wars: Episode II - Attack of the Clones and then being interviewed by a radio DJ about the film on my way out of the theater

 -Taping every episode of "Saved by the Bell" over four VHS tapes

 -Writing plot summaries of "Transformers" episodes in my journal when I was nine and 10 years old

 -Dressing up in my Superman costume day after day when I was a kid

And so forth. There are plenty more stories where those came from.

My concluding thought: It's okay to be nerdy about nerdy things. There's no shame in it . . . unless the thing you're nerdy about is Twilight, of course. After all, the geeks shall inherit the Earth, or so I have been told.

Chances are, there are many others who feel just as nerdy about the same things.

"It is one of the blessings of old friends that you can afford to be stupid with them."
   -Ralph Waldo Emerson

Shuffling Off the Mortal Coil

For those who have followed my blogging through my older blog, Disconcertingly Choppy - and, let's face it, that may be as many as a dozen people - as well as those who know my family and extended family personally, then you may remember that my nine-year-old niece McKenna got a hamster, which she named Hammy, for Christmas. She was very excited about getting Hammy as a pet and has taken good care of him in the four months since that time. Around the house, it was not unusual to see Hammy rolling around in his hamster ball or just being held and cared for in McKenna's hands.

Well, a couple of days ago, Hammy left us. Someone, and I won't say whom, squeezed Hammy a little too tightly, and in an instant he became Peruvian food. (I've tried hamster twice - both times in Peru, in those "when in Rome" situations - and, incidentally, and it tastes like chicken. I don't recommend it.) McKenna, surprisingly, wasn't upset at the person who did this (accidentally, I might add), but was she was rather grief stricken by it and was somewhat inconsolable throughout the day.

Rather than have the traditional family home evening that night, we instead held a graveside service for Hammy, who was laid to rest in the backyard. McKenna talked about what a great pet Hammy had been, and we all bowed our heads in a moment of silence. As you may recall, this was on the same day as the explosions at the Boston marathon, and feelings were tender all around.

A wise person once said something along the lines of: "Death is an important tool. It teaches us to tell each other that we love each other."

I'm paraphrasing here, but I appreciate the sentiment. When tragedy strikes, and it will affect us all to one degree or another, it's often the only thing we can do. I believe it applies to all instances when we're affected by death - be it terrorism that takes human lives untimely, or unintentionally enthusiastic hugs, or everything else between and beyond.

And so, my friends, let me take advantage of this opportunity to tell you that I love you, collectively and individually. I realize that a blog is not the ideal means for doing this, so take it for whatever you may think it's worth. I'm not great at expressing it vocally, as my "love language" tends to be either spending quality time or performing acts of service, but please know that I am truly grateful for the relationships I feel the Lord has blessed me with in my life, be they family, friends, co-workers, or even acquaintances who may yet become lifelong friends.

Hammy would want it that way.