"Anakin. Go to the Senate and ask Chancellor Palpatine to speak with her about this matter."

I'm still on about Attack of the Clones. What can I say? I have a lot of hate stored up.

So Mace Windu, instead of trying to convince Amidala himself or asking Anakin or Obi-Wan to speak with her, tells Anakin to go tell Palpatine to tell Amidala to get out of Dodge? What!? That sounds like the kind of railroading a dungeon master might do.

But my real problem is still with the thin string that connects all the steps that lead to the Clone Wars. I know what fanboys will say: that the Force meant all this to happen, and therefore the wildly unlikely crap that goes down is all part of a greater plan. But let's go through this one step at a time:

1. Count Dooku hires Jango Fett to kill Amidala.
2. Jango Fett doesn't bother, you know, just shooting Amidala or something. Instead, he hires an assassin. Because nothing says badass bounty hunter like hiring a subcontractor.
3. Instead of, you know, just shooting Amidala, the assassin sends bugs into Amidala's room, giving Obi-Wan and Anakin the time to save her. (Did Jango Fett tell the assassin he doesn't REALLY want Amidala dead? Did Dooku tell Jango this in the first place?)
4. Obi-Wan and Anakin run down the assassin. Instead of, you know, just shooting the assassin with a blaster, Jango Fett decides to use a poison dart that is traceable to one particular world. This is the only time we see Jango use equipment other than his standard loadout. (Again, did Dooku tell Jango to not do stuff the logical way? As far as we know, blasters just leave burns that aren't traceable.)
5. "What you got here is a Kamino saber-dart." Yeah, because some greasy spoon hash-slinger knows high-tech weapons. Well, maybe he was someone else in his old life, but note that the reference to the weapon wasn't in the databanks, so instead of checking some other research source like some other library, Obi-Wan goes straight to the burger joint.
6. Obi-Wan takes the dude's word for it without any other evidence than a guy with grease all over him and a mouth that could swallow a yak telling him so.
7. Obi-Wan decides to research Kamino further, since apparently the weapon used is clearly linked to the assassination. That's kind of like if my enemy used an AK-47, I decide to check out a bunch of books about Russia.
8. Dooku erased Kamino from the Jedi databanks, but didn't doctor the files to adjust for the gravity of the star, so it's still obvious it's there. (I can only assume he did this on purpose to make it that much more suspicious.)
9. Obi-Wan decides to go check this stuff out by going all the way to the planet. At this point, he's still just researching the assassination, since he's probably not going to find out on Kamino why someone wiped the databanks on Coruscant. He hasn't researched who the assassin was or who hired him. He hasn't researched any of Amidala's political enemies or anyone else who might profit by her death. Instead, he runs down the source of the ammunition used to kill the assassin. Nobody gives a damn about the bugs that were used to try to kill Amidala herself, which could well be just as rare or specific to one world. We never even find out what those bugs are called. (Now, I know what you're thinking; maybe they did all that, but they just didn't show it. Well, they show so much useless nonsense between Padme and Anakin, that they could have filled in a little more of the plot holes. Just one line: "Everything else connected with this case has been a dead end, so I thought I'd research this dart.")
10. So what exactly is Obi-Wan expecting to do on Kamino? This is only what I imagine would have happened if there wouldn't have been a clone army on Kamino, which of course no one knew there was.

Kaminoan: Hey, a Jedi. You could have just called, you know, but I guess you came all the way out here. That's cool. Whatever. So, what's up?
Obi-Wan: Yo. I found this dart in the neck of a dude who tried to kill someone. I need to know who you sold it to. Does it have barrel grooves or a serial number or something that we could nail down?
Kaminoan: Hell no, since it's never mentioned in the movie.
Obi-Wan: So you have no way of tracking down who you sold that to.
Kaminoan: Dude, we might not have even sold it. He could have stolen it or taken it from the body of someone he killed. We don't even know how recently he came by it. We'd have to go through years and years of sales data.
Obi-Wan: Well, shit. I guess I went through all that for nothing.
Kaminoan: Don't let the sliding door hit you in the ass on the way out.


And just where the HELL does the clone army come from? I'll tell you where. Jedi Master Sifo-Dyas apparently bought an entire army because he FORESAW that the Republic would need it through the Force. Because, you know, the logical solution to troubling premonitions of war is to buy an entire army. Because the Jedi are all about warfare and armies and stuff like that. As Yoda once said, "Wars not make one great. Wars make one BITCHIN' AWESOME!"

And who the hell is Sifo-Dyas? He was an old Jedi buddy of Dooku, which is why Dooku knew about the clones and could set up the whole sequence of events that would lead to the formation of the Grand Army of the Republic. Dooku killed him and incorporated his clone army into his long-term plans. But I've got a few questions:

1. Where did a Jedi come up with the cash for an entire clone army, not to mention weapons, equipment, and starships? He must have gone through a lot of couch cushions to come up with that kind of dough. Dex stresses in his conversation with Obi-Wan that the Kaminoans are a very mercenary lot, so I doubt they're doing it for charity and a tax writeoff.
2. Why didn't Sifo-Dyas tell anyone he was doing this? This isn't the kind of thing you just keep to yourself, is it? "Mace Windu, what are you up to these days?" "Oh, you know, meditating. Keeping the peace. You?" "Nothing, really." "You're not purchasing an entire clone army complete with warships and everything, are you?" "Erm... what makes you think that?" "Hell if I know! I just ask that sometimes for shits and giggles." "Oh... right."
3. And what about this presumed conversation on Kamino: "So, Jedi Master Sifo-Dyas, who would you like to use as the basis for your clone army? A Jedi? An honorable soldier from a Jedi-aligned world, perhaps?" "Yeah, maybe something like that. I haven't really thought about it." "Well, if that's the case, we've got another option we thought you might like. How about an amoral bounty hunter who kills for money?" "Shit yeah! Even better. Let's get this assembly line moving!" Of course, it's possible the Kaminoans just came up with using a bounty hunter on their own, but is that really the kind of decision you just delegate to the long-necked weirdos and hope for the best?

Beat. Slam. Uncensored.

It was a good night for poetry, man. It was a damn good night for poetry. I gotta say, it was all killer tonight. Everyone who got up in front of the mike rocked it. That's way too rare these days, when I end up cringing through sets, but everything tonight was tight and together and the energy in the room was like the world's slowest atom bomb wanted to cut loose and have a good time.

A Faith Betrayed

I watched Star Wars Episode 2 again today. In the past, I have defended Lucas because of all the things he's given me, characters and stories that have shaped me and given me great happiness. I have been loyal, and I have suffered and endured patiently. But no loyal servant deserves that. That movie is a travesty against the name of cinema. Not only is the dialogue horrible, the logic is completely incomprehensible. Why is there a secret army no one knew about? Why does Obi-Wan traipse around the galaxy following half-baked clues like a Jedi version of Carmen Sandigo? Whyyyy? Why couldn't they just debate and decide to FORM an army, rather than have to decide whether to USE THE ONE THAT MAGICALLY APPEARS? I believed in you, George. I TRUSTED YOU, GEORGE!

The Most Offensive Ad Ever?

I saw it on rottentomatoes.com, which is a fairly reputable website, and it's advertising a major retail video game, not some Flash crap. But the ad itself... wow. Where do I even start? I'll just let you be appalled for yourself.

And double shame on you if you tried to click it. :o!

A Memory from High School: MUN

I took a Model United Nations class mostly for fun, since it would be an easy grade and I've always been interested in politics. That was around the time I was hitting my version of the senior slump, in which I just started taking classes out of fun and interest rather than a sense of obligation, particularly since I had already taken most of the classes I needed to graduate. For years, the MUN class had been taught by the father of a friend of mine, but that year a woman was teaching it who hadn't taught it before.

The overwhelming impression I have in my memory is of her humorous incompetence. It became fairly clear early on that she didn't understand Robert's Rules of Order or even much of modern politics. Being handy with a piece of news trivia or a well-crafted piece of BS would guarantee you a pass. I also remember that we were given entire class sessions with the nebulous instruction of researching the non-government organizations or countries we were meant to represent. Inevitably, those classes turned into sharing fun links with each other and trying to trick each other into going to whitehouse.com. (It was a pretty infamous porn site at the time; I'm not sure what it is now. Those were the days some people still navigated by typing in the name of what they wanted and adding a .com to it. Yes, there was internet before Google.) I remember that my friend Dima would regularly give the teacher trouble by calling her out on her ignorance, but I was particularly impressed when my friend Steve refused to do something she demanded of us since it was so childish and we were high school students. I don't remember what the task was, but that was the first time I had witnessed open rebellion from an excellent student. (Steve was, and I'm sure continues to be, a whiz in the sciences.) I also remember that, when we were told to make up fictional countries for debate, I created an impoverished country run by a theocratic Christian dictatorship. Someone else created a society dominated by robots, where humans were the slaves. Good times.

The memory that brought about this reminiscing is that, when we were getting on the buses to go to an event in another city, we were supposed to have our suits on, and I forgot. It was early in the morning, before the sun was even up, and the teacher gave me a real tongue-lashing outside the idling bus with most of the students already on board. She at first refused to even let me on the bus. It was a real ego shock for me, a reversal of power that my slip had allowed the teacher the class had until then almost completely undermined, and it stayed with me as an illustration of the way a mistake can give someone else power over me--particularly someone I had until then practically dominated.

Nothing in particular brought about this memory. It's just something I remembered.

Spartacus: Blood and Sand

I thought I would be disappointed in the highly advertised Starz TV show based on the life of Spartacus. I'm certainly not fond of the over-produced, sentimental mess that is the Kirk Douglas movie.

Watching the first episode made me a believer. The world of Spartacus is brutal, dark, and treacherous. After pitched battles with Getae, who are depicted as subhuman barbarians, that are strongly reminiscent of the best stylized violence of 300, the Thracians (of whom Spartacus is the de facto leader) decide it is better to defend their villages than follow Roman orders. The Romans, protesting that this is treason, crush the Thracians, whose village is burned by the Getae.

The first episode was particularly cinematic, with long shots of broad vistas and several creative cross-cuts from scene to scene. The scope is epic and the pacing is brisk (neither of which the show could maintain, but that's the nature of television). I enjoyed the choice of making blood spray behind the action as backdrop rather than as part of the scene, which is both awesomely over the top and stylized. That's not to say the violence isn't intense: limbs are removed and bodies are mangled.

Later episodes, once Spartacus is a gladiator, skimp more on the highly elaborate shots as well as the ultraviolence, but one has to expect that in television. The show also slows down from the sweeping majesty of total war to the day to day brutality of gladiator life; it's not a welcome change, but my disappointment at being hemmed in and hobbled by the change of scope is, I'm sure, something like Spartacus's own frustration at life as a gladiator.

Though the action tames itself somewhat and even the erotic splendor of the first episodes fades to slightly more tasteful (or less tasteless) shots, the show maintains a pacing to keep my appetite whetted like a good blade. Also, by then I had enough attachment to the characters to pull me through.

Though some of the characters are fairly detestable, even some of Spartacus's enemies are fully drawn characters. I was pleasantly surprised that Crixus, the best gladiator in the ludus that also own Spartacus, doesn't just antagonize Spartacus but also struggles to win the heart of a female slave despite his coarseness.

My biggest complaint is Spartacus's recurring visions of his wife. It's getting to the point that it's almost like "Harvey" in Farscape. That's bad.

The swearing and sex are rather too much for my taste, but the action and the surprisingly intricate drama keeps me coming back. I only hope they keep up the promise of the show by continuing to develop the plot rather than focus only on the sex and violence.

Happy Birthday, Chucky D!

Today is Charles Darwin's birthday. Unfortunately, it's difficult to wish him a happy birthday, as his theories continue to be attacked and mocked by the ignorant and superstitious. Though his theories about the origin of species were not perfect, they form the basis for evolutionary theory as we know it today. To clarify, evolution is a fact, not a theory. It is the exact process, natural selection, through which evolution occurs that is a theory, though evidence for it continues to mount.

All I can say about this is that, at a time, people believed the Earth was at the center of the solar system, so much so that they accused anyone of heresy that postulated that the Sun might instead be the center. Now, all reasonable people accept that the Earth revolves around the Sun.

It is a sad truth that superstition continues to attack science and reason. Though some may provide "evidence" to the contrary until their faces turn blue, I take heart in Galileo's (supposedly) muttered words after recanting before the Inquisiton: "Eppur si muove." Despite what men might say or believe, the Earth moves.

It is one in the morning. Do you know where your Akuma is?

There is something in a man that seeks out competition, even conflict. There is something that yearns to be the best, that seeks to defeat and destroy the opposition and see his enemies scattered at his feet. The noblest form of this pursuit is the duel, and the true modern duel is the fighting game. Well, that and martial arts.

I have never really been a Street Fighter player. Sure, there was the youthful crush in the arcade when I was around ten, followed by brief dalliances with emulators and a fling with the Capcom characters in Marvel vs. Capcom 2. The truth is, ever since I got my Dreamcast, my one true love has been Soul Calibur. Compared to Soul Calibur's dynamic rhythm of dance, Street Fighter is a combo frenzy, more brutal and less artistic. Plus Soul Calibur had weapons and a late medieval theme, while Street Fighter has offensive stereotypes. As a young man, I played Soul Calibur for hours on end, beating every single mission in the first game (even the ones that warned you how difficult they were) and logging untold hours on Soul Calibur, Soul Calibur 2, and Soul Calibur 4. We skipped 3. Not sure why.

My Soul Competitur moved away a few years ago, however, and my circle of friends are Street Fighter fans. So, like a boxer teaching himself jujitsu so he can get into MMA, I had to teach myself Street Fighter IV. It was a struggle, especially considering some of my friends have been playing Street Fighter at least as long as I've been playing Soul Calibur, and their power level is right around, say, NINE THOUSAAAAND. But if this was the way I was going to get my fighting, I would see it through.

I learned quickly that the charge characters are completely contrary to my brain's way of processing moves, so I switched to the circle characters. I also had the advantage of having played Darkstalkers as a teenager, which taught me all the basic circle moves (half roll forward, tap forward+half roll forward, double attack buttons for EX moves, etc.). (I know Darkstalkers also has charge characters. But those characters suck.)

After experimenting with a few of the characters, I settled on Akuma. Above all other reasons, he is the ultimate badass, a fireball-flinging maniac with glowing red eyes and a supervillain's sense of superiority over the human race. Plus his super move is identical to Morrigan's from Darkstalkers, which is also a plus.

Though I have worked to forge myself into a warrior in this new art, I have continued to lag behind, getting increasingly frustrated along the way as I saw Akuma hit the dust again and again. Finally, I made a decision. In order to be the very best with Akuma, I would set myself the goal of beating all of his hard trials. (This would also give me some nifty icons to use for myself in online multiplayer, which is lovely.) This was quite some task, as I was still struggling with the normal trials.

Trials are a series of combos of increasing complexity that you have to perform on a standing opponent. Some are frustratingly hard. Others are even more difficult.

I finally beat the normal trials, sometimes taking as much as half an hour per trial, but then I moved on to the first hard trial. And I could not do it. I spent two hours late into one night trying without success. I just couldn't pull off the focus cancel move in time. Every time I was either too late with it or the focus attack would go off instead of cancelling into another move, wasting too much time.

But I was driven. Like a dog with his teeth in his prize, I did not want to let go. Like that boxer after getting his face pounded out of shape his first night of MMA, I refused to let it get the better of me. I was going to become a warrior, no matter how much longer it took. I tried again the next morning for another hour without success. And more that night, with building frustration and swearing, alternating soothing Akuma to console him on his failure and threatening him to shape up or else. Finally, by what felt like pure luck, I did it. After copious pelvic thrusting and a victory dance I was ashamed even my TV could see, I moved on.

The next trials brought the same level of frustration. I would try for hours, take a break, and come back. My brain was aching. I was learning to string together moves from pure muscle memory, though even then it was a matter of trying it over and over until all the stars aligned and it went off perfectly. The third trial was relatively easy, and the fourth was a matter of getting the tricky timing down. Then it came down to the fifth and last trial.

It was brutal. To say the timing was split-second would be an understatement: even a fraction of a second would have given me some leeway, and this sadistic trial gave me none. If it's true that the jiffy is the very shortest possible measure of time, then I was measuring the timing in jiffies. Not only that, but I had to stand the character in the exact right place. EXACT. Too close, and he would do the wrong move. Too far away, and the move wouldn't land.

It went on for hours. I didn't eat. Papers went ungraded. I told myself I would stop at 7. Then 8. Then midnight. I practiced each step of the sequence individually and in tandem with the steps around it. I had to get every move down perfectly. My thumbs changed colors. They became sore, then numb.

"It's not your fault, Akuma. I know you're trying."

"Damn you, Akuma! Just do what I tell you!"

"Are you playing with me, Akuma? Is this fun for you? Do you like to see me hurt?"

"I just don't know if this relationship is going to work, Akuma."

"I'm sorry, Akuma. Don't be cross. You know I don't mean any of those hurtful things I said."

And copious swearing.

Finally, at precisely 1:01 in the morning, I did it. Through some random chance, through some combination of providence and sheer tenacity, because even if I can pull it off only once in ten thousand tries it has to go off right some time, I did it. And then I went to bed.

I wish I could say that I don't feel a sense of accomplishment, that I realized at the end how empty and meaningless succeeding at a video game is. I know none of this translates into real world skills and I can't put "Passed all of Akuma's Hard Trials in Street Fighter IV" on my resume. I know in twenty years no one will care about Street Fighter.

But I do feel accomplishment. I set myself on a task that seemed almost impossible and I did it. My thumbs are still hurting, as I'm reminded every time I tap the spacebar. I wouldn't be at all surprised if some facts about plate tectonics or the Cambrian explosion or the Hapsburg dynasty have been displaced in favor of the exact timing of Light Hurricane Kick -> Gorshoryuken. But I did it. Akuma is supreme. I am Akuma.

By the way, I also beat the game on Hardest Difficulty. But that was nothing compared to this.

((PS I know Akuma is called Gouki in Japan, but I don't care. These are the facts: M. Bison is white, Vega wears a mask, and Balrog is a boxer. While we're at it, I'll probably always say "Rye-you" rather than "Ree-you". That's just the way it is. Oh, and I did grade the papers during a break in gaming. I may be driven, but I'm not negligent.))