Mikey, Snow, and the Wide Awake Hang Over

Drinking.  Drinking never changes.

So the entirety of the United States seems to be getting rocked by this cold weather snap.  The DC beltway shuts down if even snow is hinted at, so you can imagine the panic caused by single digit numbers on the thermometer.  So it was almost fated that my lovely wife and I would find ourselves at home at 1pm on the Tuesday, with the threat of being snowed in for a few days plastered all over our computer and television screens.

Not a totally inaccurate representation of Maryland weather.

The morning had already been kind of rough, so we were looking to unwind a bit.  I stopped by the local liquor store and picked up a 30 pack of my favorite light beverage, with the understanding I would have multiple days off and a weekend coming up.  Surely 30 beers would be enough to satiate my booze lust.

So we settled in, threw on some New Girl, and cracked open a cold one, on a cold one.   And it was good!  It felt nice to relax as the weather outside turned frightful.  But a few beers became a few more, and a few more, and before we knew it, we had drank an entire 30 rack.  I don't know how, neither of us are terriblhy big people, and by all accounts, after 15 beers apiece, we should have been pretty sleepy.  But we weren't sleepy... We were determined.

So we put on our best winter gear, and set forth into the night on foot.  Our destination: a small bar not 2 blocks from our house.  We had another round there with the bartender, before ordering 4 'Road Beers' (which she gave us!) and set out back to the house, drinking and having a good time.

You'd think, wow, 18 beers each, you guys must have been drunk for days! And you're right.  The snow stopped, and the next day, we weren't snowed in.  No, we had to go to work... and be people.

Productive members of society

Now, for all of you out there that don't know, usually when you get drunk, you fall asleep and your body uses that time to process out the toxins.  You wake up, probably a bit dehydrated and hung over, not feeling great, but that feeling goes away in a few hours.  It's a terrible feeling, but one you can deal with for the most part.  But there's a super important part there, the asleep part.

Now, if you consume as much as we did, in as short of a time as we did, and then get very little sleep as we did, you have a chance of waking up feeling great!  And that's because, you're still drunk.  We did, and we were.  Now, your body doesn't care, it has a job to do, and it's going to get rid of this poison you have willingly ingested, and it doesn't care if you're awake for this part or not.

In my adult life, I have experienced this hang over a handful of times, and each time it gets worse.  To be awake, when your body transitions from drunk to sober is one of the more harrowing activities you can do for under $20.  The be cognizant as your body shuts down to repair itself is as horrifying as it is terrifying.  On top of that, I was at work.

It starts slow, and you truly believe you're going to be OK.  But as your chest tightens and breathing begins to be labored, you realize the terrible truth, you're still drunk, and you're wobbling in your chair.  Your mouth, as dry as it is, starts to threaten vomit with bouts of excess saliva, interrupted by dry heaves.  You figure, water will help, or some soda to calm my stomach.  They don't work, your body just taunts you for even trying.

Your body sounds exactly like this

I remember thinking I was pulling it off reasonably well.  My office mate, she has no idea that I'm in constant flux between passing out and such violent sickness my entire insides would become my outsides, turning me inside-out like some sort of physician's waiting room toy.  I would have gotten more work done had my computer screen bothered to stop shifting sizes, and the room would just stay at a 90 degree angle.  The temperature was a comfortable 900 degrees around my ears, and a balmy negative 1000 around my toes, with my underpants a tropical rainforest or bog.

You read it, you can't unread it

And this entire day, all I could think was, "You fucked up, and you deserve this."

And this lasted for the entire 15+ hours of conscious life I had that day.  I woke up this morning, 2 days after drinking, still feeling like I was on the wrong end of a bus accident.  I have drank probably a metric ton of water between then and now, trying to force this evil out of me and replenish it with Gaia's love, but to little or no avail.  I'm being punished.  My shower last night?  I took it entirely sitting down.  I'm almost 30, and sat in a pool of my own self loathing with a stick of Irish Spring for comfort.  I had defeated myself, and I knew the end was neigh.  I went to bed immediately after my shower, and stared at the ceiling, trying to bargain with my ceiling fan to just fall and end my suffering.  But my ceiling fan is a selfish bastard, so I remain.

The only soap fit for a drunk

And here I sit today, still traumatized from my experience.  My wife, you may be wondering, has weathered this storm much better than I.  Her body is still able to process that I suppose, where mine has finally given up, and has decided it's easier to break down than to persevere.  So this post, I'm sure you've noticed, isn't packed with quote as many jokes and links as usual.  And that's because writing it has taken every ounce of my, and let's be honest, already questionable talent to slam out on this keyboard.

I want it to serve as a warning to myself and others - if you drink 18 beers on a Tuesday afternoon, Thursday is still going to be terrible.

Thoughts on B&E

There's an old saying, "Nice guys finish last." And you know what?  It's true.

Being an optimist now-a-days is hard.  I want to believe in the inherent goodness of people, despite the overwhelming evidence to the contrary.  That we'd all help each-other when in need, when in reality, our only need is to help ourselves.  It's an incredibly selfish worldview, and one I'm learning more and more is truer than ever.

Pictured: Murder

I recently moved to Baltimore, Maryland, or as the locals lovingly refer to it, Bodymore, Murderland.  We bought a nice little house at the end of a dead end street, surrounded by old folks.  Being a 27 year old surround by elderly, I felt right at home.  I truly did, I really enjoyed the sense of community I felt from the area.  We painted the walls, bought new furniture, and overall made ourselves at home.  We also didn't think anything of leaving our car, in our own driveway, with the GPS unit out for God and everybody to see.

Pictured: An invitation to rob your vehicle.

So it was on a cold Tuesday morning that I walked outside to start my car, try and warm it up for the drive to work, when I opened the door and found my front seat covered in the paperwork that used to be stored in my glove compartment.  I looked around, and noticed that no windows were broken, no sign of forced entry, and nothing in the backseat was touched.  But I did notice a few things were missing.

1. My GPS Unit
2. A bluetooth speaker
3. My iPod Touch (filled with classic rock and Show tunes)
4. An Altoids canister filled with Change
5. $37 in cash (for unexpected tolls)
6. Various chords and cables

The interesting thing?  All of my paperwork was left, registration and all of that.  They even left my Dashcam, for some reason.  Only a few "Easy sell" items were stolen, no damage to the car, no attempt to steal it.  It was like a gentleman burglar didn't want to inconvenience me too much whist selling my possessions for crack.  I didn't get the "Oh my God, I've been robbed, I feel so violated!" feeling you're supposed to get.  I just felt sad, that after all the breaks I've cut humanity, humanity can't find it in itself to just be cool.

Fuck you in particular!

I give to charity, every chance I get.  I donate to worthy causes, I've even funded some of my friends when they campaign for money.  I buy stuff for others, I give my time to those who ask of it, and in general volunteer anything I have whenever I can.  Yet, it seems, when it's time to reward those who do, it's those who do for themselves that get theirs.  And it makes sense!  It really does, I'm not complaining about people working hard and getting what they worked for.  I'm complaining about people like me.

I know what sort of person robbed me.  It was a young male, probably white (considering my area) who probably works at a minimum wage job a few days a week, but wants to be more.  The problem is, we've devalued hard work in favor of 'Hustling.'  

Mostly other people's things

We as a society have placed value on doing whatever we need to do to make money, especially young inner-city youths.  People, not much younger than me, not much poorer than I was at that age, are resorting to crime and violence to pay for the lifestyle glorified by their icons in the media.  They're lead to believe that if they keep 'hustin,' they too will be living the good life.  It's the sort of mentality that seems to be keeping the prison industry sitting pretty.  And it's weird to me that nobody seems to be paying attention.  Or if they are, they know exactly what their doing.

By promoting music, television, and movies that promote street crime as romantic, they are instilling that sense that this is the best option for the downtrodden.  Rarely is working hard and doing what's right championed as a way to get ahead.  Even in big business, everyday we see companies getting away with more and more outrageous errs in judgement (Freedom Industries, this drink's for you) and getting away with barely more than a slap on the wrist.  How are you supposed to win the game by playing by the rules?

But then is that why we have rules?  To keep those who are dumb enough to obey them out of the way, and make room for those who are not burdened by such things?  If we can't force the biggest companies and congressmen to follow the rules, how can we expect a kid on the street to know right from wrong?  Maybe it's not entirely the fault of media icons, as their "brands" are in essence also a company, and playing by that set of rules.  Are there sets of rules for each socio-economic class?  Are schmucks like me destined to fail because we lack the ability to break the rules when they benefit ourselves?

This tirade is getting dangerously close to a political rant, something I'm going to try to avoid in this blog for at least a little while longer.  This started off as a way for me to vent my frustration at being robbed, and ended up with trying to wrap my tiny brain around how the world works.  And the world works in a way that doesn't make sense to me.  I mean, I get it, those who do, do (ha).  Be that on the street making moves, or in a boardroom... also making moves, the world seems to be run by those who don't really care how their decisions affect someone else.  And why would they?  No one ever got ahead by putting others first. 

Are they bad guys?  Maybe.  Maybe they just understand the world better than I do.  I still believe people are good, maybe not those with power, but people, as a whole, are good.  Does that make me a Good Guy?  Or a Dumb Guy?

I prefer a Hopeful guy.

Far-Out Friday: Spaceship Moon!

It's Friday!  My name is Kiiiiiiii..........

Wait, no.  What?

I'm going to try something fun, and write about some 'far-out' fun theory on Fridays.  Why?  Because Friday is almost the weekend, and on the weekend, things get weird. 

This week?  The Moon is a hollow spaceship theory!  Oh, you haven't heard of this, imaginary reader?  Probably because you're part of the class of people that doesn't put much stock into Aliens traveling to our little corner of the Universe with the express purpose to flux with us.  That's fine though, because today you will...  so long as you keep reading.

Return to the Night!  You've no business here!

Pictured: Cheese

The Moon, our moon, is a lunar body some 238,900 miles from the Earth, our Earth.  It is the 5th largest moon in the solar system, and the only one orbiting our third rock from the sun.  Coincidentally, it is also the only moon we know of that creates a perfect solar eclipse.  And that is pretty special, considering we know about at least 166 in our solar system.  If you include moons that orbit dwarf planets, Trans-Neptunian Objects, Trojan moons, and asteroids the number would jump to 336 classified moons. In addition to those, there have been another 150 very small objects observed within the rings of Saturn. At least one moon of Saturn(Rhea) is thought to have a moon of its own!

And out of all those moons in our local area, none of them have a perfectly circular orbit around it's planet, and is sized and spaced perfectly enough to blot out the sun.  But how did it come to be?  How did it get there, placed ever so perfectly?

“What in blazes is our Moon doing way out there? It’s too far out to be a true satellite of Earth, it is too big to have been captured by the Earth. The chances of such a capture having been effected and the Moon then having taken up a nearly circular orbit about the Earth are too small to make such an eventuality credible. . . . But, then, if the Moon is neither a true satellite of the Earth nor a captured one, what is it?”

– Isaac Asimov

Father of Science Fiction pondering Science Fact

There are a few theories on how the moon formed, none of which as as cool as it being a space ship.  "Science" thinks it may have happened by a process called, "capture."  The capture theory proposes that the Moon was captured by the gravitational pull of the Earth, like the moon was just cruising along on it's way to Venus, and Earth was like, "Slow down baby!  Why don't you ditch the zero and get with a hero?" And the moon was all, "Oh you Brute!  *swoon*"  But that's not how the Earth rolls.  If something gets close to us, it's all or nothing.  Either it slams into us (sorry Dinosaurs) or it get shot in a different direction (sorry Planet 0584965 in about 4.2 light years)

Another awesome theory is the "Giant Impact" theory, which is exactly what it sounds like.  Some big ass something (which scientists have named 'Theia' and would have been about the size of Mars) hit another big ass something (which scientists have named 'Earth' and would have been roughly the size of Earth) and the resulting impact basically created the massive chunk that became our Moon.  This has been the most widely accepted theory until about 2011, when the most precise measurement yet of the isotopic signatures of lunar rocks was published and discovered that the Apollo lunar samples carried an isotopic signature identical to Earth rocks, but different from other Solar system bodies.  Meaning that Theia couldn't have been the Moon baby daddy.

Off screen is Theia jumping around like a jackass.

So science is no closer to figuring out where the Moon came from.  But you know what's really surprising?  The Earth is around 4.5 billion years old, which most of us can agree is probably true, because science, but the theory suggests that the moon is WAY older than that.  Maybe even older than our Sun.  We're talking 5.3 billion years old, based on some Moon rocks, and the dust upon which they were resting is maybe even at least another billion years older.  That's impossible, right?  Our solar system wasn't even around then, much less our planet!  That's where the space ship theory really starts to get interesting.

Take a look at the surface of our moon.  What do you see?

Besides the obvious need for Clearasil

It is absolutely covered in impact markings.  This Moon has been pounded more than your mom, and has a face so messed up it looks like your mom.  Your mom is so fat, she's the moon.  What was I saying?  Oh yeah, the moon has been rocked by impact, WAY more than it's dancing partner the Earth.  And yes, most of the things that would hit the Earth burn up in our atmosphere, that's true, but those marks indicate some pretty big shots it's taken, never mind the quantity.  And look a little closer, something is off about those craters...

The crater bottoms are convex instead of concave.  As if there is something under the surface, something hard. The picture below has been enhanced to give you a better idea of what that shape looks like.

The moon when viewed on LSD

This picture seems to clearly show a smooth, round object under the dust and debris on the Moon, right?  As if space rocks and space junk would hit the moon, and then bounce off, leaving a trace of guts on the windshield.  Well, the theory suggests that the amount of impacts is due to the movement of the Moon, and not the orbit it's been enjoying on Earth's dime.  But movement from somewhere else to get to here.  That round, smooth object?  The hull of a space shitp.

"Wait a second," I hear you imaginarily interject into my fool proof theory, "The moon is made of rock, we've been there, we brought rocks back. You're as stupid as you are handsome."  And that's

Like, woah man.

true, I am stupidly handsome, but let's talk about the rocks a bit more.  The picture to the right is the Earth when viewed on LSD.  Notice how 'rocky' it looks, for lack of a better word.  You can tell this place was made by millions of years of violent volcanic activity.  Compare that to the above Moon picture, and think how such a perfectly smooth object could erupt from the fiery mass of death that was the Earth.  Doesn't seem quite as logical now, huh?  But a round spaceship, created to travel the galaxy and repel oncoming space trash no matter what direction it was flying?  Now who's a crazy person?

But perhaps the most interesting "Moon is a Space Ship" evidence that has been presented is the fact the moon "rings like a bell."  A lot of these points can be shrugged off and poo-pooed, but even NASA can't deny that the Moon can carry a tune.  These 'Moonquakes' are of unknown origin, and can last for several hours, but it's been confirmed that we can make them happen.  When the Apollo 12 crew jettisoned the lunar module ascent stage on November 20, 1969, it crashed onto the Moon and reverberated, "like a gong."  The resulting reverberation lasted more than an hour.  But what does that mean? 

“If the astronomical data are reduced, it is found that the data require that the interior of the Moon is more like a hollow than a homogeneous sphere.”

 -Dr. Gordon MacDonald, NASA Scientist

Nobel chemist Dr. Harold Urey suggested the Moon’s reduced density is because of large areas inside the Moon where there is “simply a cavity.”  Empty.  Hollow.

 “A natural satellite cannot be a hollow object.”

 - Carl Sagan, "Intelligent Life in the Universe"

So is the Moon not a natural satellite at all?  Did it really come from somewhere else?  If so, when?

Greek authors Aristotle and Plitarch, as well as a few Roman authors like Rhodius and Ovid, wrote of a group of people called the Proselenes.  These Proselenes lived in the mountains of Greece called, Arcadia (you've probably heard that name, I know you've been lost since 'Aristotle.'  It's okay, me too.)  The Proselenes peoples claimed that their ancestors lay claim to that land from "before there was a moon in the heavens."  But that doesn't make any sense, the Moon's been there WAY before humanity... right?

The ruins of Tiahuanaco claim that Luna (that's our moon, I know I'm late actually naming it) wasn't always our moon.  In fact, there was another, smaller moon that circled our planet at a much faster rate, actually rising in the west and setting in the east, much like Mars' moon, Phobos.  And sometime around 12,000 years ago, that moon wandered off, and our current moon showed up....

Hollow moon, crazy orbit, smooth surface, old, appearing randomly...  All the makings of a good Far-Out Friday post!  But, as another far-out person I once knew would say, "What about this?"  Is the moon just that, a rocky natural satellite orbiting our insignificant world?  Probably.  But what if, what if, it wasn't?  What if it was the last of a dying race, a race of supermen?  Is that why we're so much more advanced than the rest of the creatures on this world?  What if it was an ark, carrying the last of it's peoples?  Or an expidition to make contact, and something went wrong?  Maybe it's doing exactly as it was designed to do, watching...

Alderaan was just a warning.

Why has man always dreamed of going to the moon... perhaps, returning?  Why did we stop going?

When will we go back?

Fangirls, you got some splainin' to do

Sherlock series 3 has come and gone, as has the 11th Doctor's hour.

Sam and Dean just kick and scream, and frankly that's lost it's power.

You did this to TV

So I must make a confession.  I'm a fangirlboy.  I latch onto a show, book, or game I like, and I can do nothing but talk obsessively about it to anyone who will listen, doesn't matter if they know what I'm talking about or not.  I've always been like this, fascinated by imaginary worlds created to loose yourself in, deep and rich with lore and intrigue - but more often than not, the better the imaginary world created by the creators, the higher chance it has to be ruined by the fans.

Fandom, the worst thing to happen to successful storytelling.  Chances are, imaginary reader, that if you're imaginarily reading this, I imagine you understood some of my references and grievances in the above "limerick."  (limerick, in quotation marks of course, because it wasn't dirty enough.)  But in case you didn't, this entry will allow me to address some of my problems with some of my favorite things, as they pertain to their respective fandoms, and how those fandoms are actively ruining those forementioned favorite things.

My sentence structure is awesome.

If you haven't watched the BBC drama Sherlock, then you are missing out on some of the best television to come out of our former caretakers and co-stars in the Revolutionary War since Monty Python ceased to be.  The show, written by Steven Moffat and Mark Gatiss (remember that name Moffat, I have a whole paragraph or twelve about him coming up) and staring Bendersnatch Cumberbubble and Martin Freeman, as the Deerstalker Detective and Bilbo Baggins respectively.

The show has thus far released 3 seasons, each consisting of 3 episodes, roughly 90 minutes each.  The stories are based on the works of Sir Arthur Conan Doyle, but set in the modern day, with modern twists on the set-ups and pay-offs.  And it works brilliantly.  (oops, my British is showing.)  Series 1 and 2 were tightly paced, reference packed, exciting rides with Sherlock and Watson, culminating in one of the best cliffhangers (or jumpers?  Fallers?) in recent years with the finale The Reichenbach Falls, and then... Nothing.  The show went on Hiatus for two years while the actors treked Into Darkeness and stumbled through The World's End.  The writers went on to seriously flux with a time traveler, but I'll get to that.  The point is, everyone was busy while the fans were left to do their waiting... and theorize.   

And that, imaginary reader, is the problem.  There was this amazing show, filled with amazing characters and situations that paid homage, yet deviated just enough, from their source material that it became unlike anything else at the time, and the people wanted more.  Not only did they want more, but they wanted to know the hows and whys of events that transpired, and if the next season had come when it was supposed to, maybe we could have gotten more of those tight stories, rich dialogue, and myertious cases only Sherlock Holmes could possibly solve.  Instead, 2 years passed, the fans went nuts, and we got Series 3.

The theories for (Spoilers!) how Sherlock survived the ending of the Series 2 finale went overboard, so much so, that the writers (Moffat and Gatiss) rewrote one of their characters, Anderson, to have his own crazy theories about what went down, almost as a poke at the fans.  Which is all fine and good, if the entire first episode wasn't devoted to Sherlock coming back.  Yes, it's important to know these things, but at the expense of actual plot, I cannot abore.  It took over and hour with only vague, "There's a terrorist somewhere in London!" lines thrown in to get to the actual 'mystery' of the episode.  That mystery?  Someone was going to blow up Parliament.  On the 5th of November.  Turns out, it was the only member of Parliament who didn't go, who done it. 

Truly a Mystery worthy of Sherlock.

Okay, fine, we need to catch up with our characters, see how they react to Sherlock coming back, but something else happened as well...  You see, in between the end of Series 2 and the begining of Series 3, something happened...  Blundermuch Cibbleslap became a sort of, sexual icon in the Sherlock Fandom.  Fangirls were SherLocked.  And this was a problem.  Sherlock isn't a nice guy, he's a grade-A asshole sociopath.  And we loved him for it.  So when he came back, one of the first things the writers had him do, was crash sexily through a window, and very sexily plant a wet one on a character he previously didn't give two Sherlocks about.  This, of course, gave way to thousands of, "Wish this was me!" type posts on message boards I don't go to everyday.  Yes, it was a 'dream' sequence, but it only existed to please the fans.  And that is a mistake.  It completely rewrote the Sherlock character, possibly even moreso than Anderson, in that now he was a charming, likeable guy with buddies, who solved mysteries when he didn't have a choice.  Before, our Sherlock was addicted, needed the thrill, but this new Sherlock appeared to just charmingly fluff about the world, just doing whatever until the next sexy thing happened to him.

We sacrificed what might have been a pretty good mystery/adventure in discovering a terrorist plot to play V for Vendetta in favor of 3 explanations for 'How he did it' and several scenes of Martin Freeman wishing he could play John Watson again, interspersed with Benadryl Christmasbench putting on coats, messing with his hair, and hamming it up for any ladies who may be watching at home.  This wasn't 'Character Development' as I've seen lots of people try to assure me, but rather I argue, 'Character Disintegration.'  The entire episode was like a showcase of, "Look how charming Sherlock is, and so witty in the things he says!"  They intentionally wanted to write him sexier, softer, and more appealing to women.  And it turned out... not so good I think.

Like in the next episode of Series 3, The Sign of Three, in which he's the best man at John's wedding (oh yeah, we have a major character get married with little to no build up as well, but again, Martin Freeman I'm sure wishes he was still playing John Watson, and not just Short Guy to make Sherlock look sexier.)  At the wedding, Sherlock meets and flirts with a particularly open bridesmaid, who makes a ridiculous 'Handcuffs' joke to Sherlock, which I'm sure caused the females fans to take their hair dryers to their pants (too much?)  The entire episode is 100% out of character for Sherlock, from perfecting his dancing, to telling "fun" stories about he and John, to getting drunk, the whole thing is Fan Service to showcase how cool of a guy he is.  So much so that the mystery, Someone is going to die at John's Wedding, takes him an embarrassingly long amount of time to figure out (by Sherlock standards) that even the audience is miles ahead of him by the end.  But it was worth it, because the fangirls wanted it this way.

I think I've dedicated a bit to Sherlock here, and need to move on to further my point.  Sherlock is just fresh in my memory, and inspired me to take a look at what happened.  The fans, given the time to stew, formed their opinions of what Sherlock is, even though he and the aptly named show weren't, and the writers, to appease these fans, changed both to no longer be the former.  And the show suffered for it.  Series 4 and 5 have been confirmed.  Hopefully we don't have to wait another few years, and our boys can get back to normal.   

Let's just settle this right now.  The 10th Doctor is my Doctor.  That being said, I am a pretty big fan of Doctor Who in general, pretty much enjoying everything I've seen.  That is, until Steven Moffat and Matt Smith took over from Russell T. Davies.  Now, speaking about Sherlock, I mentioned how the fans influenced Moffat to change Sherlock's character, and I'm nexted to convinced that this is some sort of tick he has, because it happened with Matt Smith's 11th Doctor as well.  Ears played the 9th Doctor for one season, and played the character with more depth than Smith has managed to achieve in 4.

The worst part?  It isn't Matt Smith's fault.  When Doctor Who came back a few years ago, fans didn't know what this show was about.  It was completely 'new' but old at the same time.  Ears did his best to bring it into modern times, but it didn't really take off until David Tennant got hold of it.  And the Fans started to pour into the show, but The Doctor was already a character.  He had a 'love interest' who was gone, so the rest of his companions were friends.  There wasn't a 'will they, won't they' vibe to it, and as we all know, Fangirls only think about one thing.  So of course, that had to change!

When Davies retired, Moffat came in ready to Flux his Capacitor, and immediately created a love story so uncomfortable, Fangirls ate it up.  The Doctor meets a little girl, Amelia Pond, or as I like to call her, Mary Sue.  You see, the fans dreamed of going on these adventures with the Doctor, to be special to him, to live in this fairytale, and that is precisely what Moffat gave them.  A little girl, who met the Doctor, grew up into a beautiful woman, and was whisked away with him across the Universe.  The story didn't matter so much anymore, just that the Doctor was cool and quirky, and the companions were young and beautiful.  And the sexual tension!  The Doctor was all of a sudden a sexual character, getting busy with aliens all across the Universe (implied, I don't believe we ever saw the doctor get down.)

Even in Matt Smith's last episode, they made penis jokes and the Doctor was naked for most of it.  I mean, seriously?  A Time Lord, especially one so versed in Earth History, isn't aware of Nudity?  It's character deviations like this that convince me Moffat may have some pretty cool ideas, but doesn't understand how people function on a basic level.  But I think there's even something deeper here to Who than with Sherlock and Moffat's Fan Masturbating, and that is this:  Moffat is himself a fan.

Steven Moffat is the Joss Whedon across the pond, a geek who done good.  He's obviously a huge fan of the franchises he gets to work on, and is able to tell stories that appeal to him and millions of others like him.  The key difference between the two, is one of them isn't afraid to upset his fandom.  The way Moffat writes, there isn't ever any real danger for the character, deaths are only minor inconveniences that will be rectified before the episode's end to maintain the status quo and keep the droves happy for another week.  And that's weak.  Weak storytelling.  Clever wordplay Mikey.

But we did this.  The fans.  We insisted that the characters we loved were something they weren't, and the writers gave that to us, fundamentally changing the things we liked into something different, and not very good.  I'm not the only person who feels this way, take a look around the Internet, and it's everwhere.  But in the realm on TV shows that have gone off the Deep End when it comes to pleasing fans, one stands a few feet taller than the rest...

Wayward Son, you're done.  No need to Carry On, you had peace at the end of Season 5.  That was 4 seasons ago.  I mean, for God's sake, your storyline was The Apocalypse.  The literal Apocalypse.  But no, the fans were screaming and the money was coming in, why wrap up a good (I'd even say great) story because it was over?  Welcome, to the never ending hell that is Supernatural on the CW.

 The first 5 seasons of Supernatural built upon themselves, established monster were real, and demons existed.  But Heaven and Hell?  Nah, fairly tails.  But then Angels suddenly were thrown in, and the lore expanded to explain that everything that had been happened throughout the show was leading up to one thing, Armageddon.  And it was awesome.  Throw away story-lines from before all of a sudden made sense, rules existed for a reason, and the big bad was Lucifer himself.

I can't tell you how much I enjoyed this show building up to this.  The stakes were high, the lore was tight, and the Characters progressed like they should given what we knew about them and the situation they were in.  After a showdown in Kansas, and a trip to the pit, that was that.  The brother who ran away from his purpose his whole life, gave it to save us all, and the brother who sacrificed his life to save us, was given a chance to live.  It was perfect...  Except...

The fans wanted more, but not more of that story stuff, gross.  No, they wanted more hot guys maybe being gay with eachother, not that there's anything wrong with that.  The problem, for me at least imaginary reader, is that the characters are just repeating beats from earlier stories, not growing or changing at all.  The only 'change' are meta references to the fan-base and a few expendable characters here and there.  The problem is, the new characters often just slot into the place of old characters, filling pretty much the same roles, thus allowing repeats of the same stories and beats.

And the fangirls eat it up!  My wife, for example, reminds me every week when Supernatural comes on.  We used to watch it together all the time, often binge-watching the DVD box sets into the wee hours of the morning.  But the show grew away from me, from the show I enjoyed, and became this 'fan-pleasing' monster with story-lines that didn't really matter or make sense, but were excuses to have the beefy 6-foot-plus male models parade around saving the damsel and sexual-innuending all up over my TV screen.  She can still enjoy it, and does with millions of others like her, because it is now made squarely for them.

And as I type that, it sounds a bit sexist, and perhaps it is, but there are fangirlsboys out there like me who enjoyed these shows for what they were, before the fanbase took control of them on a creative level, pushing out original storylines and intrigue that made the shows great in favor of meeting the status-quo and giving the fans exactly what they want, but not nessisarily what they need, which is what they fell in love with in the first place.

Inevitably, the fans turn against these shows.  It's happening to Supernatural now, and was beginning to happen with Doctor Who as well.  Ironically, the fans end up steering their shows so off course that eventually they realize the show they're watching isn't the show they fell in love with, and watching becomes a chore, week after week, tuning in because they have to understand all the latest Tumblr posts and Twitter tweets, until that one day that they watch the show, finally throw their hands up, and declare the show lost it's way after Season X and then write a blog post way too long and incoherent for it's own good.

TV shows, especially good ones, can too easy fall into the trap of the fanbase.  LOST is a cautionary tale of not trying to outsmart and compromise your own story just to give your fans what they want.  Shows and their creators need to grow naturally, at their own pace, and not trying to keep up with whatever is popular that season.  Stick to your guns show, tell your story, and you will be praised.

Breaking Bad, The Sopranos, The Wire - these shows had a story to tell, told it, and got out.  They are remembered among the best.  But too often things start out great, and have an end game in sight, maybe even that end game is the name of the show, and the show works towards that end game, taunting and teasing, until it becomes old, boring.  Watching the same characters in the same situations, with the same jokes, week and week after week.  I mean, for God's sake, just meet the damn mother already!

Now we wait for Sherlock Series 4...

Seclusion in the warehouse - thoughts of mortality

The ticking clock drones on and on, and only seconds have passed...

This morning finds me in a warehouse.  And if any of you reading have ever been in a warehouse, you know it's not a particularly pleasant place to be in the wee hours of a chilly morning.  Especially when less than an hour ago you were bundled up by an impressively fluffy comforter in the middle of your incredibly large bed with an indescribably beautiful woman pushing her impeccable rear into your irritated back, whilst your insufferable dog ignited your icy heart with inconceivable cuteness.  She thinks she's people.  But that is exactly where I find myself this morning, alone, cold, and comforted only by a keyboard.  Crazy how fast an hour can change your life.

And yet, this clock just keeps ticking.  It doesn't stop.  The only sound in the whole place is the clacking of my black keys (Thanks MacBook Pro!) and the march of time through the barren air.  It's almost sad in it's absolute certainty.  I can literally hear my life growing older, escaping second by second into nothingness.

I often think about our mortality, and how it is ever changing.  Not that we're constantly dying, I understand that (as the macabre previous paragraph bleakly indicates)  but rather I think of it in this digital age.  The Facebook and Twitter age.

We all know, or at least I hope we know, that once something is 'On-Line' it never really leaves.  All of those drunken pictures of you from college?  You might 'un-tag' yourself, but they still exist.  So an interesting phenomenon has an almost 100% chance of happening.  Our children are going to have unprecedented access to our daily lives.  One day, my future kids might stumble accross this very blog post, and read the words of their father on this particular date in history.

"But Mike," I hear you saying in your annoying voice, "we can already do that with Journals and Diaries from yesteryear."  Yes, and essentially, a 'Blog' is exactly the same thing.  But what about Facebook?  Or Twitter?  How many times a day do we post just stupid, asinine things to those public platforms without a second thought?  Will your children be able to look back one day using 'Facebook Historian' or whatever service will do it, and be able to pull up a day-by-day account of your life?  After I'm gone, are my children or grandchildren going to read my views of Homosexual marriage and what YouTube video I found humorous?  The answer, I truly believe, is yes.  And it will be AMAZING.

The question of 'Would I be friends with my parents' won't be a mystery.  They will be able to read everything, see every picture, view every 'like' and have incredibly detailed access to your life, right now.  These very seconds, although ticking away and fleeting as they may be, are being chronicled by technology as an unmercilessly accurate painting of we as people in the time we live.  I find that terrifying and extraordinary poetic.  Not only is Social Media bringing us together as a people, giving every person a voice (to say as much stupid shish as they like) but it will be bringing us closer to the future, in a way.  The picture we're painting for future generations won't be viewed through a rose-tinted lens, but by a cold-reality... lens.  If you were freaking out about being pregnant and how the baby destroyed your life, that child could one day read that in your own words.

So in a way, we are are immortal.  Once we die, there will be a record that we really lived.  And that's amazing.  I'm reminded of a friend who recently passed.  We were friends, not great friends, but we didn't oppose hanging out.  He lost his life tragically a year ago in an unfortunate accident.  Very sudden, no warning.  And the grief was phenomenal, from all areas of his personal life.  But it was on Social Media.  His Facebook page became saturated with heartfelt messages, written to him, as if he could still read them.  This continued for many months.  People would 'tag' him in long lost pictures, asking him to 'remember that time..?' and I thought... how beautiful.  Just a few days ago was his birthday, and the birthday wishes he received were just as lively, and fun as if he were still walking around, cracking wise.

Because his profile is password protected, he can't be deleted (save for Facebook themselves I suppose) and therefore, he lives on.  Frozen in time, with some dumb snapshot as his profile picture, reminding us all who he was, and forever will be.  And that's how he'll stay.  How we'll all stay one day, our last days recorded almost to the moment of our demise.  Surely there is beauty in that.

In the time it has taken to smash out the above, the clock on the wall never faltered.  It never rested or took a break from it's duties.  Nor should we.  It is our duty, in this digital age, to leave behind a footprint we can be proud of.  If we were to suddenly cease, to leave behind the warmth and goodwill as to warrant birthday wishes a year from now.  To make our children and children's children proud, and fill them with wonder over who we were, when we were.  So I challenge you, imaginary reader, to live your life like that.  Knowing that, like time, life will never slow down, never give you a break, and we only have one shot at this.  We better get it right.

No pressure.

Let's get on with it

2014.  A new year, and with it, a new outlook on life.  Yes, I know I've made the 'resolution' before to do more things, but this year, things feel different.  And I think I know why.

I'm a nomad.  I've moved at least once a year, every year, for the last 9 years.  Often, 2-3 times year.  I left for college and never looked back, way back in  '05.  I constantly have been trying to better myself and my living situation, never 'settling' for what was in front of me.  But now?  I think I have it figured out.

I'm married, have a great career, and my wife and I just bought our first home together.  I'm locked in now, mortgage and everything.  So I'm here, I'm planting roots, and I'm going to grow.  So I've embarked on a year long adventure in a few key areas.  One of which, imaginary reader, is this blog.  I'm hoping to keep at least a weekly update of things and goings on about all the projects I'm working on.

This week?  The Sketch-a-day challenge.  Brittany has been inspiring me as of late to work on my 'art.'  I've never been much of an artist, but I have been known to doodle from time to time.  And you know what?  I miss it.  So she challenged me, as she usually does in her wonderful way, to be better than I was.  So for the next 100 days, we're having a "competition" to see who can improve their art the most.  Follow us on our Deviant Art page Mikey-vs-Britterz and watch as our art either improves, or doesn't.  But I am determined to follow through with it. 

Same goes for this blog, and with luck, Youtube as well.  Yes, I intend to get back into Video making.  What will I video?  That remains to be seen, but I am hard at work building my home office into a multi-media studio where I hope to spend time bettering myself, my writing, and my art.

So, let's get on with it.