To paraphrase a friend of mine: There were too many giant freaking robots? There were too many explosions? What did you go to Transformers for?

–

Sam Witwicky: Has a smoking hot girlfriend, a late-model Camaro that turns into a giant freaking robot, and close, personal ties to the leader of an alien civilization.

Every Boy in the Audience: wants Sam Witwicky’s life.

Sam Witwicky: “Eh, this is played out. Off to college I go! No, none of you can come with me… why would I want you to come with me?”

Every Boy in the Audience: facepalm.

A Piece of the Allspark: Turns all of the appliances in Sam’s house into tiny little deathbots with the maturity of a frat house and enough ordinance to level a city block.

The Audience: “If the Allspark turns everything into mechanized Satan, why are the Autobots so good?”

Michael Bay: “Boobs! Robots! Explosions!”

The Audience: “Right. Carry on then.”

–

Totally Human College Girl: “Hi! I’m unreasonably attractive! Also, a huge slut!”

Sam Witwicky: “The Jehovah’s Witnesses were right… God really does love me.”

Totally Human College Girl: Is a robot. In disguise!

The Terminator Franchise: “Um, pardon us, not to be rude and all, but we both have movies out this summer, and just so the audience doesn’t get confused, we felt the need to point out that we’re the robots disguised as humans, you’re the robots disguised as cars.”

Michael Bay: “Boobs! Robots! Explosions!”

The Terminator Franchise: “Right. Carry on then.”

–

The Decepticons: Use a piece of the Allspark to bring Megatron back to life.

Megatron: Tries to extract the location of the ancient sun killing machine from Sam Witwicky’s head, using a rusty old screwdriver and some Duck Tape.

The Audience: “Wait, ancient sun killing machine? The location of which is stored in Sam’s head?”

The Plot: “Look, we both know I’m just an excuse for -”

Michael Bay: “Boobs! Robots! Explosions!”

The Plot: “- so let’s just go with it, okay?”

The Audience: “Right. Carry on then.”

Optimus Prime: Dies protecting Sam.

Sam Witwicky: “Noooooooooooooo!”</vader>

–

Sam Witwicky: Uses the Allspark to bring an old Decepticon, who’s now an Autobot, but still grumpy, back to life, so that he can interpret the Cybertronian symbols Sam has stuck in his head, so that Sam can find the Matrix of Leadership, so that he can bring Optimus back to life, so that Optimus can stop The Fallen (Megatron’s BFF) from using the Matrix of Leadership to activate Ancient Sun Killing Machine - which is hidden under a pyramid - in order to harvest sweet, delicious Energon. Oh, and kill the entire human race.

The Audience: “Wait… I mean… what?”

The Plot: Throws the script up in the air and walks away.

Michael Bay: “Boobs! Robots! Explosions!”

The Audience: “Right. Carry on then.”

–

The Last Half Hour of the Movie: Is an epic tour de force, wherein almost fifty giant freaking robots battle each other, and the US Military, using nothing but the power of distilled awesome. Highlights include Devastator, an amalgamation of five smaller robots who combine to form a giant robot-eating, pyramid leveling, world ending monstrosity with wrecking ball testicles (literally), Sam Witwicky going to Robot Heaven (literally) and being given the real Matrix of Leadership by the Ghosts of the Dead Primes (literally), Optimus Prime being raised from the dead and given a jet-pack (literally) and a license to kick ass manner of metallic hind quarters, all of Egypt being blown up in what must have been the most expensive explosion in the history of cinema, and Megan Fox running in slow motion.

Michael Bay: Spreads his hands wide. “Boobs. Robots. Explosions.”

The Audience: Slow clap, building to thunderous applause.

–

Every Critic in the World: Sniffs their nose snootily.

Every Critic in the World: “Transformers 2 just wasn’t high-brow enough for us. We expect more from our two and a half hour long toy commercials.

A Team of Proctologists: Goes looking for the giant stick lodged up the critics’ bums.

US Treasury: “Guys? Bay’s got a license to print money again. Looks like we’re gonna be here all weekend. Who wants to order pizza?”

Can you explain Megan Fox’s appeal?
Yes. She looks like a porn star…
Topless Robot

A couple of friends have mentioned that I’ve been fairly absent from the Internets the last couple of weeks, and they wanted to know why the Tubes have been devoid of my trademark witticisms and scathing sarcasm.

The short answer is that I’ve been in too bad a mood to make fun of it all. Yeah, the Things That Make Me Angry? That’s me when I’m mellow. Lately, I’ve gone past “humorously agitated” and all the way to “genuinely upset,” and that’s just no fun to write about.

So, at the risk of further throwing the universe off balance, the Galvin Institute for Higher Sarcasm brings you yet another Thing That Don’t Make Me Angry.

I was still awake when the sun rose this morning, so I planned to sleep in a bit. Instead, I woke up at 7am, because something was doing its level best to bore a hole through my window.

I ignored it at first, but after fifteen minutes of “thwap, thwap, skitter skitter thwap,” I decided that I needed to find out what, exactly, was trying to invade my home. So I rolled out of bed and jerked back the curtain, and came face to face with…

A tiny little finch. He was sitting on the window sill, looking up at me like I had caught him trying to steal a cookie out of the cookie jar. He didn’t even fly away, at first, just kind of looked at me, hopped a couple of times, pecked at the window screen, and then took wing.

He was adorable, so I let him live.

Speaking of:

This is the most adorable thing I have ever seen. Which is a trick, because “slick green skin, that’s usually kind of moist,” isn’t that high up on the list of things I expect to provoke warm and fuzzy feelings. But this little dude manages to pull it off.

Well, okay, maybe this is the most adorable thing ever:

I mean, look at the tongues.

And in case you’ve got some kind of mammalian bias:

No, if you’ll excuse me, I’m going to go sit in the corner and squee like a little girl.

Via BoingBoing:

The purpose of this guide is to help you participate constructively in the Iranian election protests through Twitter.

1. Do NOT publicise proxy IP’s over twitter, and especially not using the #iranelection hashtag. Security forces are monitoring this hashtag, and the moment they identify a proxy IP they will block it in Iran. If you are creating new proxies for the Iranian bloggers, DM them to @stopAhmadi or @iran09 and they will distributed them discretely to bloggers in Iran.

2. Hashtags, the only two legitimate hashtags being used by bloggers in Iran are #iranelection and #gr88, other hashtag ideas run the risk of diluting the conversation.

3. Keep you bull$hit filter up! Security forces are now setting up twitter accounts to spread disinformation by posing as Iranian protesters. Please don’t retweet impetuosly, try to confirm information with reliable sources before retweeting. The legitimate sources are not hard to find and follow.

4. Help cover the bloggers: change your twitter settings so that your location is TEHRAN and your time zone is GMT +3.30. Security forces are hunting for bloggers using location and timezone searches. If we all become ‘Iranians’ it becomes much harder to find them.

5. Don’t blow their cover! If you discover a genuine source, please don’t publicise their name or location on a website. These bloggers are in REAL danger. Spread the word discretely through your own networks but don’t signpost them to the security forces. People are dying there, for real, please keep that in mind…

Every once in a while, I stop to think about what I want to do with my life? Do I really want to continue on in the software field? Should I move to Baltimore, or even California? What will really make me happy?

Now I know. I’m going to become a ninja. Through a home study course.

I see no potential for disaster in this.

Actual phone conversation I had this afternoon:

“Hi, this is Jessica, calling from the ACLU…”

“Awesome, I was just worrying about my civil liberties! Could you add me to your do not call list please?”

Inlet, New York. A quaint little town that occupies about two square blocks in the butt crack of nowhere. Population: 17. 23, if you count the deer. 1,236,472, if you count the mosquitoes. Also, it’s the location of Josh and Katie’s wedding. Here’s a few things I would have tweeted, if any cellular company in the world had ever heard of the place:

Don’t have an address for the church. Giving Google Maps a try. #gpsfail

Google maps: “Good luck. Go find it yourself.” #googlemapsfail

Josh says “get on Rt. 28 and keep going until you find Inlet. Church is on the left.” Sounds easy. #ifionlyknew

On Rt. 28. Just passed Train Wreck Point. That’s encouraging. #notreally

I am in the middle of nowhere. Anyone that tells me I have a pretty mouth gets stabbed in the face. #comegetsomehillbilly

Found Inlet. Church must be close by. #butitscarefullyhidden

Looking for Church of the Lakes. Haven’t seen a lake yet. #thenameisalie

Okay, found a lake. No church.

Found another lake. Still no church.

Another lake. Where is this bleeding church? #toomanylakes #toofewchurches

Maybe these friendly looking motorcyclists can help me. #whatcouldgowrong

Turns out: no, they couldn’t. Also, I think I now lead the CNY Hell’s Angels. #ilookgoodinleather

Okay, this looks disturbingly like Canada. I may have gone too far. #navigationfail

Inlet: 50 miles. Dammit. #iwentwaytoofar

Back in Inlet. Still don’t see the church.

Josh and Katie! Walking out of that odd, church-shaped building! #hitthebrakesreallyhardnow

Wedding rehearsal: already finished. #justdrawmeapicture

Also, I was unaware that you’re supposed to dress up for the rehearsal. #jeanstshirtnoshoes

That last hash tag, by the way, is totally accurate. Yes, I showed up to the church barefoot.

Anyway, I finally made it to the church about ten minutes after the rehearsal was over. Which was actually kind of fortuitous, because I would have blown past the church on the way back if I the bride and groom hadn’t happened to be walking out of the chapel at the exact moment I was driving by.

Inlet has a rather odd collection of businesses. For example, the movie theater is also a video rental place (and they still carry VHS), and a deli. Then there’s Pedals and Petals, which sells bikes and flowers. Yes, at the same time, and yes, in the same building. The Screamen Eagle (which is actually spelled “screamen,” for reasons we were unable to determine) serves beer, wings, and pizza at night, and pies and cookies during the day. So, points for optimizing your use of space, I guess, but deductions for any semblance of logic or order.

There’s a nice little park by the water, where we took the wedding photos (I was a groomsman, by the way, which is why I was around for the photos. It was also the reason I was crammed into a brown tuxedo and a pair of brown Chuck Tailors. The groom has an odd sense of style. But I bet his manager doesn’t accuse him of being gothy, so there’s that. Also, this is a really long parenthetical insertion). On the way out of the park, there’s a mural that reads:

Make nothing but memories
Kill nothing but time
Leave no trace but footprints

This is done in a really colorful, hey kids isn’t this neat style. And it freaks me right out. I mean, “make nothing but memories” I guess I can be down with, but why do you have to insert “kill nothing but time?” I mean, there we were, just enjoying a quiet walk through the park, and you have to go and remind us not to commit murder? Thanks for bringing those memories up. And “leave no trace?” What is this, a ninja convention?

Also, I’m pretty sure the ice cream place was playing the theme to The Godfather.

But the most memorable… um… memory came as we were finishing up dinner. A fiend and I were playing with his three year old nephew. The game seemed to be called “claw at Thomas’ eyes, and then try to drag the string out of his hoodie.” This is apparently the most fascinating game ever invented. (As an aside: kids love me. Whether that means I’m not quite as evil as I let on, or they just haven’t developed a sense of self-preservation yet, I’ll leave for you to decide). A few minutes into this, a little girl walks up and tugs on the boy’s arm. “Um, you can come and play with me now,” she said shyly. “And, I’m sorry about earlier. I just needed some space. You were talking really close.”

She was four years old. And she needed some space. I looked over at my friend and said “that did not just happen.” He shook his head and said “it must be programed into their genetics.”

Anyway, congratulations to Josh and Katie Grasso!

Monkey Suit! The only valid response to me putting on a tie is to write a check for millions of dollars.

MySpace Angle!

Look At All I Have Created Here! I think I’ll conduct today’s meeting in this pose.

Now show me pouty!

Blury (but awesome) Fountain!

So I’m scheduled to fly to DC tomorrow, and here I am, more that twenty-four hours before my trip starts, and it’s already gone to hell. My itinerary has me flying in to BWI, an airport in Baltimore, and staying at a hotel in Reston… about an hour away. But, whatever. The last time I was in the area - when was that again? Oh, right, last bleeding week, because I apparently have nothing better to do than drive up and down the bloody East Coast - I had to drive ten hours to get to my hotel, and ten hours back, so a single hour isn’t that big of a deal.

What is a big deal is the fact that my rental car is booked at Dulles International, which is a mother-loving hour away from where my plane is landing.

Why in the nine fires of hell is it so freaking hard to book a freaking trip to the freaking nation’s capital? We have a bleeding branch office down there. Our biggest customer is headquartered there. Nine times out of ten, if someone from my site is going on travel, the correct thing to do is “get them a plan ticket, rental car, and hotel near Dulles.” But no, someone had to go and be all creative, and schedule me to be in two different places, an hour apart, at once, with no way to travel between the two. Way to go, team.

So I get to burn up even more of what was supposed to be a bloody day off fixing this latest expletive deleted. And I don’t even know how I’m going to do that, because everyone is off tomorrow, because it’s The Lord’s Freaking Day, and no one works on the Lord’s Freaking Day, except me, because I have to take another cursed trip that I won’t get paid for.

But at least I’m sure they’ll deny all of my travel claims when I get back, so I can spend the next six months fighting with the credit card company. Let me tell you, folks, it’s awesome when AmEx calls you on your personal cell phone because your freaking company won’t pay your bloody corporate credit card.

I am so sick of getting kicked between the legs every time I go out of my way to help someone. I’m not going to get any sleep tonight, because I’m all spun up about this, and tomorrow is going to suck, too, because I’m going to spend the entire day on the phone, trying to cut this latest Gordian knot. And then I get to drive to Albany, and take a plane to Somewhere, hoping that there’s a car waiting for me, so I can drive another hour to get to my hotel.

I am not paid enough for this.

Spoilers abound, tread ye carefully.

Nostalgia drops by for another visit.

Terminator 3 did not happen.

Thomas is pleased with this.

The War with the Machines is raging. Finally.

John Connor is a post-apocolyptic prophet. Or is he? (Of course he is. Spoiler!)

Marcus is a poor man’s Arnold.

Moon Bloodgood is an awesome name.

The Post Apocalyptic Rape Gang is pretty much mandatory, I guess.

Marcus SMASH!</hulk>

Thomas had to think about the HTML code for that </hulk>.

Kyle Reese is a punk teenager.

Loud Mechanical Groaning Screeches are bloody terrifying.

An Off Switch That Can Be Triggered By Broadcasting Anything on a Certain Frequency is a really stupid idea.

An Off Switch That Can Be Triggered By Broadcasting Anything on a Certain Frequency is a really cunning ploy.

Digital Arnold is back!

Thomas kermitflail!

SkyNet has some nice digs.

Thomas thinks he’s been in that building…

Thomas adds new software requirement: “don’t accidentally create SkyNet.”

The Future is not set.