I know it seems trite, but damn, A Game of Thrones (book) is infinitely better than Game of Thrones (series). It's not even close. Not even a little bit.
The show has pretty bad direction, awkward art design, with things being just... not at all how they are in the book, and this habit of awkwardly lifting "key" lines of dialogue from the book and using them as a catch-all for what's supposed to be going on. The action is... adequate? I mean, it's nothing special.
Seems like they did the show on a shoestring budget for being so high profile, and then it seems like they managed to give every aspect of it less than enough to be passable, but not enough for it to be in anyway exceptional.
I bought the book, because everyone around me seemed to be reading it. I saw the first 4 episodes of the show, which comprised around 350-450ish pages of the book, depending on certain details, and took a break for a few months. I read the book in a couple of weeks during my spare time, and it was riveting. Breathtaking. Spectacular. Without a doubt, right up there with The Fellowship of the Ring and The Gunslinger, and the other books that have opened my favorite epic series. (I don't include Harry Potter).
I can't believe the show could suck so hard. Look at what Peter Jackson did with LOTR. If you want to make a movie/show out of a book, follow his advice. Just without the whole 'every time Frodo puts on the ring, Sauron's eye is upon him' thing.
TL;DR - A Game of Thrones (book) is way better than the show. Obviously.
Friday, August 19, 2011
Friday, May 13, 2011
Show Me a Place Like Bright Escondido
Show me a place like bright Escondido,
Where the sun splashes, dry breezes blister,
Verdant foothills around seethe and glister,
Take me there if you know, I long to go.
The fields and pastures have been bought and sold,
Asphalt and concrete tear through the valley,
Carving out neighborhoods, streets and alleys,
The land that remains is more precious than gold.
Show me a place like bright Escondido,
Set aside somewhere for the moon to shine.
Give me fields of white sage, scrub oak and pine.
Take me there if you know, I long to go.
Where the sun splashes, dry breezes blister,
Verdant foothills around seethe and glister,
Take me there if you know, I long to go.
The fields and pastures have been bought and sold,
Asphalt and concrete tear through the valley,
Carving out neighborhoods, streets and alleys,
The land that remains is more precious than gold.
Show me a place like bright Escondido,
Set aside somewhere for the moon to shine.
Give me fields of white sage, scrub oak and pine.
Take me there if you know, I long to go.
Thursday, April 28, 2011
Ganged Up On By Geese
One of the most butterfly related things I do as a butterfly keeper is feed the butterflies. They drink a nectar made up of primarily sugar water from hexagonal plates, which need to be changed out every day. This is much more time consuming and laborious than one might initially think, and requires hauling a heavy black cart through narrow passageways, across rugged terrain and into the greenhouse.
Normally, this trek goes undisturbed, but recently I've become engaged in a bit of a turf war. There are these two geese who live in the village, and they've decided that their new roosting spot is the path I take to the greenhouse. They've also decided that they absolutely hate the cart. I dunno if it wears opposing colors, forgot to pay their toll or whatever, but they hate this cart. Before this, I'd heard a goose honk, and almost bleat, but never hiss. Everytime that cart goes by, one goose hisses, the other honks.
After finishing up in the greenhouse this morning, it was a little different, though. I was leaving, and through the doorway, I saw one of the geese, and it looked as if it was waiting for me, well, the cart anyway. I opened the door and began to consider how I should approach it without bothering it too much, and I heard this rap-click-tap. Looking down, I saw the other goose right outside the door, at the angle where it opens, attacking the cart. What was the other goose doing? I swear to God it was playing lookout.
I was a bit shaken from this unprovoked assault and closed the door, bringing the cart back. I rap-click-tapped back on the glass, but the goose was undeterred. I thought of radioing for assistance, but didn't want to become a joke.
So I used my big-boy voice.
"Let's go!" I shouted gruffly at the geese. That seemed to get their attention, and I was able to corral them a bit, enough to get to the fork in the path. It was then that my cart was attacked again, and I decided to take the lower route. Apparently the lower path, the long way to my working area, isn't part of their territory, so I escaped, further unmolested.
I've decided I should get one of those signs for my cart, one that says, "Please do not heckle, vex, annoy...the keepers"
Pssh, bullies.
Normally, this trek goes undisturbed, but recently I've become engaged in a bit of a turf war. There are these two geese who live in the village, and they've decided that their new roosting spot is the path I take to the greenhouse. They've also decided that they absolutely hate the cart. I dunno if it wears opposing colors, forgot to pay their toll or whatever, but they hate this cart. Before this, I'd heard a goose honk, and almost bleat, but never hiss. Everytime that cart goes by, one goose hisses, the other honks.
After finishing up in the greenhouse this morning, it was a little different, though. I was leaving, and through the doorway, I saw one of the geese, and it looked as if it was waiting for me, well, the cart anyway. I opened the door and began to consider how I should approach it without bothering it too much, and I heard this rap-click-tap. Looking down, I saw the other goose right outside the door, at the angle where it opens, attacking the cart. What was the other goose doing? I swear to God it was playing lookout.
I was a bit shaken from this unprovoked assault and closed the door, bringing the cart back. I rap-click-tapped back on the glass, but the goose was undeterred. I thought of radioing for assistance, but didn't want to become a joke.
So I used my big-boy voice.
"Let's go!" I shouted gruffly at the geese. That seemed to get their attention, and I was able to corral them a bit, enough to get to the fork in the path. It was then that my cart was attacked again, and I decided to take the lower route. Apparently the lower path, the long way to my working area, isn't part of their territory, so I escaped, further unmolested.
I've decided I should get one of those signs for my cart, one that says, "Please do not heckle, vex, annoy...the keepers"
Pssh, bullies.
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Friday, April 15, 2011
Henry's
I was in Henry's the other day, wearing a hunter green shirt I got from the Roar & Snore team training event we had at work a few days back. It says Wild Animal park on the breast (it's from last season) and has a very large picture of a cheetah on the back. So there's the back story.
I walked through the produce, heading towards the tangelos. The price was four pounds for a dollar, which is reasonable for organic fruit, and the last ones I bought were particularly sweet, so I made a special trip back out for more. On my way towards the check-out stand, I noticed an older woman dropping a box of strawberries. She looked embarrassed and didn't immediately make an attempt to reach down and get them. I wasn't sure if she had a bad back or what, so I reached down and picked them up. I told her she ought to put the box on the loading cart an employee had left behind. I went to walk away and she stopped me.
"Do you know which is a good box to buy?" she asked me.
"Ummm, I'm not sure, I usually just grab the reddest ones," I said kinda laughing.
She looked at me like I had offended her, or not met some kind of certain expectations. She opened her mouth as if to start saying something and stopped, looking quite puzzled.
"Don't you..." she mumbled and trailed off.
I realized what the confusion was.
"Oh, I'm sorry ma'am, I don't work here," I said as politely as I could. And I turned around and left, sure now that she could see the very large cheetah on my back.
When I turned around I was face to face with a portly man, with thick glasses resting on equally thick skin.
"Are you going to be stocking any more pitted prunes?" he asked me.
"Uhhh..." I said, about to break the news to him, too.
"He doesn't work here," the elderly woman now behind me said, informing him of the news.
The man looked down at my shirt, looked up at me, standing there with an oddly apologetic look on my face and kept walking.
I continued to the check-out stand and bought my tangelos. The checker asked me if I worked at the Park, and we chatted a bit about that as I paid.
I walked through the produce, heading towards the tangelos. The price was four pounds for a dollar, which is reasonable for organic fruit, and the last ones I bought were particularly sweet, so I made a special trip back out for more. On my way towards the check-out stand, I noticed an older woman dropping a box of strawberries. She looked embarrassed and didn't immediately make an attempt to reach down and get them. I wasn't sure if she had a bad back or what, so I reached down and picked them up. I told her she ought to put the box on the loading cart an employee had left behind. I went to walk away and she stopped me.
"Do you know which is a good box to buy?" she asked me.
"Ummm, I'm not sure, I usually just grab the reddest ones," I said kinda laughing.
She looked at me like I had offended her, or not met some kind of certain expectations. She opened her mouth as if to start saying something and stopped, looking quite puzzled.
"Don't you..." she mumbled and trailed off.
I realized what the confusion was.
"Oh, I'm sorry ma'am, I don't work here," I said as politely as I could. And I turned around and left, sure now that she could see the very large cheetah on my back.
When I turned around I was face to face with a portly man, with thick glasses resting on equally thick skin.
"Are you going to be stocking any more pitted prunes?" he asked me.
"Uhhh..." I said, about to break the news to him, too.
"He doesn't work here," the elderly woman now behind me said, informing him of the news.
The man looked down at my shirt, looked up at me, standing there with an oddly apologetic look on my face and kept walking.
I continued to the check-out stand and bought my tangelos. The checker asked me if I worked at the Park, and we chatted a bit about that as I paid.
Wednesday, April 6, 2011
Learn to Yearn?
What vain striving it may be
To try and see what angels see,
As they sit majestically
Upon their clouds in Heaven.
And yet we sit with stalwart gaze
Toward the ethereal haze,
Pondering just what the days
Will be like in Heaven.
And sitting here unhappily,
Looking forward, forgetting we
Often never quite fully
Enjoy the time we're given.
To try and see what angels see,
As they sit majestically
Upon their clouds in Heaven.
And yet we sit with stalwart gaze
Toward the ethereal haze,
Pondering just what the days
Will be like in Heaven.
And sitting here unhappily,
Looking forward, forgetting we
Often never quite fully
Enjoy the time we're given.
Saturday, March 12, 2011
Yeah, I'm Talking to You
Dear Mr. Sony Dream Machine,
Hello. We've been together for a few years now, and so far we've had a pretty decent relationship. We've learned each other's boundaries, and really had our ups and downs. I have tried to stop hitting you with such force, and blaming you for things that aren't your fault. I know you don't control the earth's rotation. You just display it in a quantifiable way for me. I get that! And you've done your job over and over and over again. I thank you for that.
But hey, now. This is the weekend where I lose an hour of my precious sleep. This is the weekend we set the clocks forward in an age old marketing ploy. This is the weekend I don't work on Sunday and was planning on skipping all the confusion and grogginess regarding the change. The first one of those weekends in a long while.
You know what you did. I've never particularly liked your auto-set time function, and you know that. The first day I took you out of your box I spent a while trying to set the the time manually. But you just wanted me to push the region button and let your automatic preferences take effect. Then you worked. And along came a DST situation, and remarkably you worked again. Two times a year like clockwork. Funny, because you are a clock, Mr. Sony Dream Machine.
Like clockwork until today. Like clockwork until Saturday, March 12, 2011. Now, Mr. Sony Dream Machine, I have work today. It starts at 8 a.m. I usually get up at 6:45, get ready and get out the door by 7:50. It's a game we've played for over a year now. We've taken a few Saturdays off here and there, but there's no real big surprise. But that wasn't good enough for you, was it? No, of course not.
You're Mr. Sony Dream Machine! Now I really know why your initials are Mr. SDM! First you make me feel bad for hitting your snooze button so hard, but then I find out you like it. Now you play tricks on me! Now you decide that you will set my clock ahead one hour a day early! So now I've been robbed of an hour of sleep when I've got such a big day ahead of me.
You sir, are an ass. And I am sending you this letter to let you know that you are indeed an ass. Pray that I don't decide to unplug you and give you to the Goodwill. You jerk.
Grumpily,
Mike
PS You really should have come with an antenna. Your radio function is scratchy at best. Yeah, that's right. I went there.
Hello. We've been together for a few years now, and so far we've had a pretty decent relationship. We've learned each other's boundaries, and really had our ups and downs. I have tried to stop hitting you with such force, and blaming you for things that aren't your fault. I know you don't control the earth's rotation. You just display it in a quantifiable way for me. I get that! And you've done your job over and over and over again. I thank you for that.
But hey, now. This is the weekend where I lose an hour of my precious sleep. This is the weekend we set the clocks forward in an age old marketing ploy. This is the weekend I don't work on Sunday and was planning on skipping all the confusion and grogginess regarding the change. The first one of those weekends in a long while.
You know what you did. I've never particularly liked your auto-set time function, and you know that. The first day I took you out of your box I spent a while trying to set the the time manually. But you just wanted me to push the region button and let your automatic preferences take effect. Then you worked. And along came a DST situation, and remarkably you worked again. Two times a year like clockwork. Funny, because you are a clock, Mr. Sony Dream Machine.
Like clockwork until today. Like clockwork until Saturday, March 12, 2011. Now, Mr. Sony Dream Machine, I have work today. It starts at 8 a.m. I usually get up at 6:45, get ready and get out the door by 7:50. It's a game we've played for over a year now. We've taken a few Saturdays off here and there, but there's no real big surprise. But that wasn't good enough for you, was it? No, of course not.
You're Mr. Sony Dream Machine! Now I really know why your initials are Mr. SDM! First you make me feel bad for hitting your snooze button so hard, but then I find out you like it. Now you play tricks on me! Now you decide that you will set my clock ahead one hour a day early! So now I've been robbed of an hour of sleep when I've got such a big day ahead of me.
You sir, are an ass. And I am sending you this letter to let you know that you are indeed an ass. Pray that I don't decide to unplug you and give you to the Goodwill. You jerk.
Grumpily,
Mike
PS You really should have come with an antenna. Your radio function is scratchy at best. Yeah, that's right. I went there.
Wednesday, March 9, 2011
New Job
So I got a new job yesterday. I'm now a writer for http://robotgeek.co.uk
Basically the job will entail me writing a couple of reviews per week of games that I get *for free* from companies before their release. (15-year-old me is salivating)
Currently, that'll be the only form of payment since this site is just being launched, but hey, that's good enough for me. Plus it'll give me a chance to work on my writing style.
My application consisted of me sending the editor a link to my gaming blog and saying, if you want some of this, eh? Apparently he did.
In my excitement I must give a big kudos to the esteemed Joshua Hill for giving me the lead.
Boosh.
Basically the job will entail me writing a couple of reviews per week of games that I get *for free* from companies before their release. (15-year-old me is salivating)
Currently, that'll be the only form of payment since this site is just being launched, but hey, that's good enough for me. Plus it'll give me a chance to work on my writing style.
My application consisted of me sending the editor a link to my gaming blog and saying, if you want some of this, eh? Apparently he did.
In my excitement I must give a big kudos to the esteemed Joshua Hill for giving me the lead.
Boosh.
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