So it X-gins...

Certain friends have encouraged me to be less-than-excited for the new X-Men movie (primarily as a result of its women-obsessed, Double Take producing, former music video director Brett Ratner); however, I remain enthused to see the ultimate battle consummate: Patrick Stewart vs. Ian McKellen.

Dude, remember when I wouldn't even have to write anything else now, cuz we would just watch MTV's Celebrity DeathMatch tell the story. That show was suhweeeet. And then we'd go hang out with the boys in our horizontally-striped shirts and down a few Beasts. Ohhh man, and Tony would totally do his collection of Chapelle's Show imitations. F, that was funny!

What..? I'm sorry I don't know what just came over me. Moving on,

Stewart and McKellen are already planting seeds of battle throughout the international media. McKellen was on Real Time with Bill Maher last night trumpeting the virtues of walking over driving in modern transportation. Is it a coincidence that Stewart's Professor X is confined to a wheelchair? I think not. One mutant point for McKellen.

Then I headed over to The Independent, to find a rebuttal of sorts by Stewart. He mentions his multiple marriages and the disappointment over not being a better father. Wow. McKellen, being a disenfranchised homosexual, cannot be happy with all this family talk. Two mutant points for Stewart.

But dude, who cares if McKellen feels bad about bein' a bender? It's his own fault for not reading the Bible. I roll out of bed every Sunday morning, no matter how many beer bongs I conquered or hoes I stuck it in, cuz I know I gots to be at church to pay tribute to God.

I'm really sorry. Please ignore these outbursts. Anyway,

A new retort by McKellen soon surfaced back over at The Guardian. Therein he mentions being suspicious of marriage ("I can just sniff a divorce in the air"), attempting to discount any damage Stewart might have done. A good defense, I agree, which McKellen also manages to seamlessly transform into good offense; he goes on to state "Utopias must be dull places," and this is a major victory. Stewart puts everything he has into making the X-Mansion as utopic as possible, and McKellen just outright proclaims the project to be boring.

In comparison, imagine if you called a television show's office and told them that their product was boring. Imagine:

1 - Hello, I'd liked to tell you that King of Queens is boring and cliched.
2 - How dare you! Don't even try to start something in the bedroom tonight. (Laugh track)
1 - What? I'm not a character in your show. I'm trying to tell you your show sucks.
2 - Please. There definitely won't be any sucking in the bedroom, any night. (Laugh track)

Dude, can you imagine being the King, though? His wife on that show is totally banging. And I love when Ben Stiller's dad comes on, cuz it reminds me that Stiller's dad in Meet the Fockers was De Niro, and that guy is a movie god.

Curses! It won't reverse. I'm turning into a mutant whose special power is emphathizing with frat boys. I've tried to hold it back, but no. Puberty has finally overcome me. Let me say one more thing, before I'm lost to this transformation...

McKellen and Stewart can still reconcile. They're both socialists of sorts who worry about the environment. If only they'd realize the benefits humanity could reap if their political ideas combined and prospered. If only they'd realize that deep down they do not have to fight. They are still the same. They are still humans. All mutants are...

'Sup bra! Remember that mutant who could change shapes? I'd bone her right up the...

END

Come Clean

The first draft of my book is complete, and the new title is Stories of Turtle Boy: The Soldier Who Wouldn't Die: World War I's Untold Heroes. I'm into the revision phrase now, and I'm making the process as literal as I can (which is appropriate, seeing as how it's a book and all). I'm transforming the words into visions such as butterflies and unicorns, then translating that result back into words, and then re-visioning those words back into pictures. It's a complex series, but in the end I'll have created the greatest pop-up book ever.

Once I have a publishing date, I'll hire a tech fiend to put a counter here which I'll call The Countdown to the Day Harry Invites Frankie Muniz to His Publishing Party and Becomes Best Friends with Him and Rides in his Car from The Fast and the Furious.

Don't worry, I'll make sure you all can ask to come along for a ride. That way, me and Frankie can respond in unison: "Sorry, Boyzzz. Ain't 'Nuff Nitro!" And then we'll zoom off.

Speaking of teen heartthrobs, Conan O'Brien was full of them tonight, figuratively. 21-year old Mandy Moore and 24-year old Alexis Bledel talked about what it was like to be a teenager in the spotlight. This tangentially got me to thinking: What are the two best coming-of-age stories in the history of teenkind? The answers came to me immediately. The Adventures of Huckleberry Finn, and The Lion King.

Not only does Huck Finn's story fulfill the Twain quota I've established at my blog, but it also legitimately questions the role of society in the development of moral conscience. The book has been frequently banned, as well, which is always a plus. I plan to get my novel banned by at least one school district. Doing so is harder today than it used to be (especially since incredibly controversial topics like magical boy wizards have already been used), but I think I've found a niche. The "About the Author" section is going to feature my signature inscribed in dried breast milk. That's not just controversial. It's nutritious, too.

For those still reading, The Lion King represents all that was once good with movies - Animals. Songs. Africa. Hot Nala. Nowadays the younger audience is encouraged to watch the remake of Yours, Mine, and Ours. Okay, I do crack up every time I see the commercial where 1 of the 18 kids in the movie ask "Where's my cell phone?" and the camera cuts to a grunting pig; however, when I crack up like that, it's only because I'm trying to fit into normal America. I feel out-of-touch when I'm not loving Meet the Fockers. I feel dirty when I'm not watching the TV Guide channel's American Idol preview show (American Idol purposely refused italics).

These are the treasures our culture has chosen, and who am I to say society's wrong? I'm not Huck Finn.

Gasp!

Jigsaw just posted his blogging farewell. I wish the best of luck to all, and I want to remind that I am in no way responsible for any of this murderer's satirical musings. I only happen to be writing this so soon after he posted...umm...because...umm...coincidences...

Gasp!

Metaphysical Explanations

People named Pat continue to ask me how I got a 30 pound weight into my basement. Because Pat has a math-based mind, he constantly runs the figures through a logarithm that fails to compensate for less tangible variables. Pat is also an idiot. Here are 3 historical philosophies as to how the weight travelled all they way from the always-disappointing Dunham's sporting goods store on Bluemound to the bottom floor of my house.

****************************************

Aristotle's explanation, from On the Polity's Well-Being

If a man is to truly involve himself in his surroundings, he must purchase a metal object with which to build his strength. What use is a man who cannot move a rock to build his home? He is of no use to his polity nor his family, and so he must exercise his Zeus-given muscles. The student asks, Is there not a paradox in telling a man to lift a weight he cannot lift? There is, but that is exactly what for the aqueducts have been structured. A piece of stone 5 six-pounds heavy can easily drift down the cavernous waterways to the man who needs its services. As can a woman drift down those same waterways, her services always belonging at the ready to please a man.

Machiavelli's explanation, from The Prince (edited, more buff version)
Any true prince will not struggle with the impossibility of lifting a weight of 6 five-pounds to his suburban basement. Nay, he will command the object to be moved, and so it will be moved. A command, when coming from a prince of high regard and high power, will force the public to envisage that it has been moved, even if it hasn't. They will fear death by swords in denying the prince's claim, and so they will abandon their good sense for the sake of the prince. A god's lie, they say, can move mountains. A prince's lie can move boulders.

Dodgers manager Tommy Lasorda's explanation, from a May 8, 1991, press conference

Yeah, you know we just went out there and gave it our best today. It's still early in the season, and we would've liked our cleanup man to have had more RBI chances, but the way the Padres played defense out there they really deserved the win. We'll get 'em tomorrow, though, I can guarantee you that. Also, was anyone watching when Kirk Gibson accidentally threw a 30 pound weight out of the training room? It was insane, and my guess is it ended up somewhere in Wisconsin. Now pass the sunflower seeds, you sportswriting bums.

****************************************

There you have it. I didn't even include some of the more complex theories, such as St. Thomas Aquinas's "City of God" explanation (which involves angels and Venice's Muscle Beach), or the Wachowski brothers' hypothesis (which discusses the weight in terms of alternate dimensions and crappy, er... I mean timeless, love stories). Nevertheless, I think I've made the point that the appearance of a 30 pound weight in my basement is more than feasible.

Wait, my cat Midnight wants to add one more comment:

"Purrr, I think Harry can lift any weight, considering he can lift my fat brother Starlight! Mew-zing!"

The prince, the cat.

Bloodbath

I hate shaving. Maybe I wouldn't lose half my T-cell count if I shaved more than once a month, but the fact that I always end up sitting in a pool of my own blood doesn't support an experiment.

And if you think that hurts, imagine how painful it will be when I get around to shaving my face! Badabing!

The first draft of my book is near completion and is currently titled The 44th Division: America in Europe During the Second World's War: A War to Follow the War that Ended All Wars (Stories from the Past). As you might have guessed, the protagonist Zippy the Duck has entered Hitler's underground bunker. Tired from the journey, however, he's laid down to rest on a hilariously ironic item - a feather pillow! Will he awake before Hitler launches the bomb? Will he feel guilt in saving the human race just after sleeping on the pluckings of his dead duck mother? Answers are mere chapters away...

In the meantime in the real world, looming holidays remind me that I must engage with characters outside of my mind soon. Thus, I've pre-prepared some responses to questions I can expect from returning friends this weekend:

Question: Why are there bandages all over your face?
Answer: If you'd read my blog, you'd know that I can't shave. Similarly, if you'd read my blog, you'd know that in asking me this question you've proven that you don't refresh my blog daily, proving that you, in fact, aren't my friend.

Question: When do we get to read this book of yours?
Answer: When it is published by Bantam Instant Classics, you will be able to purchase it for $19.99. That's right; a half-years' work for a couple of tenners. If you want to prove that you're my good friend, you can buy the limited edition, which is coated in gold dust. Also, the words are spelled out in miniature diamonds, so you'll have to angle the book just right in the light if you want to read the text. This edition can be purchased as a part of the Rumpelstiltskin package - One book, four tickets to a Brewers game, and a keychain in exchange for your first-born.

Question: Is it true that you responded to that Mastercard promotion where you fill in your own text to the commercial?

Answer: This is true, but I couldn't figure out how to save it to show people so I only amused myself. My finish line was something like, "Realizing that it's time to end this tired ad campaign: Priceless." I cracked up, and you would have, too, if you were a true friend.

Question: Wow, man, you're really bleeding.
Answer: I know. The shaving. Be a friend and please ask the next question.

Question: What have you been doing with your time, other than writing a book, doing two part-time jobs, and looking out the window?
Answer: I spend a lot of my time following my mom around, inserting the word "monkey" into normal everyday questions to see if I can crack her. For instance, I might ask her if she's gone out to get the "monkey," instead of the "mail." I might also ask her if she would hire me for work if I partnered an insect-extermination company with "Monkey," instead of our cat "Midnight." The sooner I crack her, the sooner I can claim the inheritance and the house. The inheritance surely includes the small diamonds my book needs, and the house is full of the bugs my company needs to start business. I'm sorry, Midnight; I mean, me-our company. Midnight is a good friend.

Question: You seem really insecure with this constant demanding that we reassure you of our friendship. Is something wrong?
Answer: Nothing is wrong.

Question: Are you sure?
Answer: Yes I'm sure.

Question: Alright...
Answer: Look, if you keep harassing me I'm not going to talk to you anymore.

Question: ...
Answer: ...

Question: ...(cough)...
Answer: ...

Question & Answer: I'm sorry! HUG!

HUGh grant

A Talking Flower

Saying this is probably going to extend my current period of unwanted celibacy, but Charlie Rose is one of my favorite TV personalities. I don't agree with him on a lot of things, and I don't always think he digs into the issues the right way, but he still has one of the smartest shows on television. That said, he just had heart surgery in Paris (he's so cosmopolitan!), so I wish him the real best wishes, as opposed to the best wishes I offer engaged/married couples.

Even without Charlie Rose, however, The Charlie Rose Show show rocks. Tonight featured guest host Bill Moyers with interview guest Daniel Dennett, author of Breaking the Spell: Religion as a Natural Phenomenon. I would like to make this book required reading, for anyone who wants to do it, especially anyone who wants to read it to me. My eyes have been really dry lately. I don't know why.

I'm going to give a brief review of the conversation now, which I will watermark 2005 for those of you worried that I'm ruining 2006's "Meanest Year Ever" with remnants belonging in last year's "Smartest Year Ever." (Cunts).

Dennett really impressed me step by step with his argument on the theist versus atheist dilemma I was forced to publish last weekend. His views resonated many of the undertones Papa Justify expressed, and were well supported with reason. His most important thesis, if I must qualify, might be the fact that neither theists nor atheists can use their "religion" to posture for position. In a secular society - which is the only feasible polity in our modern democratic world - absolutists of any kind who cannot reason their argument do not deserve support. Problems must be thought about (a major failing point for fundamentalism) and debated using cultural, historical, and societal facts that are tangible.

A great episode all in all. I wish I had taped it; however, Mr. Rose does have an Achilles' heel, and that is his greed. $10 for a transcript? $35 for a DVD? My taxes are helping support your show, Charlie, as is Leon the Neon, the car I gave away to public broadcasting. And you're telling me that a one-hour interview at a circular, wooden table offers more production value than V for Vendetta, that classic love story that made us all forget the puppy love of Brokeback Mountain? "Come on, Chuck," says Peppermint Patty.

And now, to soften the mood (though not in a sexual way, because, as I said, I'm ruined therewise), a gentle, secular poem for my beloved Baltimore Orioles this opening week:

Oh Baltimore,
The hits You hit, the pitches You pitch,
They all bear the fruit of the heavens;
And let those of other teams who dare compete
with Your unadultered divinity,
Be smited by the fires of hell so hot!
Bathe Derek Jeter and his Yankee brethren
in the hepatitic waters of the Tigris;
And use their ashes,
To smack a home run.
Amen

Bully Pulpit

Note from Harry: I apologize, but I was recently captured by a roving band of atheists who forced me to publish the following diatribe of their bath-needing leader, Papa Justify (no relation to the hoodoo villain of The Skeleton Key). So without further ado, here are his words:

My brothers and sisters, today I was presented with the following argument against our grand tradition of atheism. A boy with a randomly colored bracelet, representing the religious fad d'jour, came upon me and said: "Papa Justify, atheism cannot be legitimate, for it is only the rejection of the affirmative: Theism. Also, you smell." While I do not deny my smell to be pungent, I do reject the former argument. My brothers and sisters, here is why.

Firstly, the argument is entirely based in semantics as opposed to content. Arguments concerning words are inferior to arguments concerning material; before I approach the superior, however, I will even accept the challenge on the semantic.

Semantically, atheism is no more an acknowledgment of the affirmative theism than a-a-theism is to the affirmative atheism. The double negatives do cancel out, creating the air of an affirmative, yet this is entirely cosmetic. Beyond that, atheism is not an argument against theism, for that would be contheism or contratheism - contratheism sounding like an awesome video game with an easy-to-memorize cheat code. Atheism is the belief in a world system in which no god exists, which is perfectly logical whether there is a real god or not. A-unicornism would be a belief in a world system in which no unicorns exist, or unicornism, and none would argue that to be illogical (other than the radical militant Unicorn Israelis.) The semantic discussion falls short on numerous accounts.

Content-wise, of course, the argument at hand barely exists. Atheism represents a wide-range of religion-esque beliefs (though not devil-worship, as that mandates the existence of a god). All atheist sects, excluding nihilism, hold a belief in something. Secularism believes in the power of the state. Humanism believes in the power of human society. Environmentalism believes in the power of the environment. Moral systems can be built around any of these beliefs, and these moralities created will often parallel if not rival those of theist religions. Morality does not require the existence of an outside supernatural force. The outside force can be completely natural; as natural as this hemp bag I'm wearing.

So you see, atheism does not necessarily disappear without the existence of god. It is just as legitimate with a god as it is without a god, just as theism is just as legitimate with atheism as it is without atheism. And no matter how legitimate any of them are, none can be proven accurate.

Or can they? My brothers and sisters, if the price is right and the screenplay is adequate, there will be a sequel.

Amen.

Come back, Kate Hudson! I said not the Papa Justify from your movie.