WIL WHEATON dot NET: 1.5

The Bet rolls on, and Annie is almost half way home, with posts three, wherein Annie comes to terms with my asskickery:

Young Wil: “Ooooo…look at me. I’m a movie and TV actor…boo bitty bee bee. I live in a fort where I battle cardassians with my Teddy Ruxbin. My best friend Shane Nickerson is coming over tonight to play truth or dare and ride Tron bikes. I really want to ask Lando Calrissian to the Spring Fling but Princess GAY-A keeps cock blocking me. Fucking Whore. Shane’s going with Boba Fette just to up his cool factor. Plus he can score some juice boxes. Did you know Shane can pound one? Oh man, he's my hero! Come on unicorn. Let’s go to the Northern Quadrant and cover an X-wing fighter with maxi pads. Boo bitty boo boo bippity boppity boo, I’m was in Stand By Me.”

Ok Wil, I’ll admit it.  I don’t know what ‘5d20 times’ means.  Nor do I know the actual size of a ‘nanosecond.’

But do you know what this means? 

Beware of my ghetto photoshop.

Elbow, double bird, and Send.

And four, where the tragic reality of a month without Nickerblog settles in and takes hold.

Nickerblog Nickerblog, boo bitty boo, 
Rest in peace nerd diggity doo.

But know this…

As you ‘unplug’ yourself, I will be hacking my way into your encrypted mind with my multi vector assault mode and GHz GHB Built-in Boot ROM A DOM DOM . Oh, I’ll find you bitch. Hiding under the covers with a penlight trying desperately to reread Harry Potter or making out with your hand to pictures of Jessica Stover.

However, for now, I mourn.

Oh, and you know what else we learned? Annie has a sister, who also has a blog:

This is Steffie, Annie's sister...the brunette in the picture up on the right hand side, holding Jesus' Favorite precious hand. Yes, I know, I was never "Jesus' FAVORITE" but you'll have to read MY blog to get THAT story (wah wah) Although I'm proud of her trashing abilities, I'm glad Wil and Shane get a taste of WHAT I HAD AS A KID, growing up in her shadow sucked.

But really, I've had a blog for months and no ones ever read MY BLOG. 
"Oh look at me, I'm Annie and I probably have over a million hits and I just started to BLOG." The counter on my blog has one hit, my dad, and he just commented that I should be more like Jesus' Favorite. But you'll have to read MY blog to get THAT story (wah wah). I mean, my sister didn't even know what a blog was until the guys made a bet with her. I tried so hard..."Annie, it's really cool, seriously, you should have your own blog." "No Steffie, that's only for nerds." So, that's the story of my life...thank GOD I have found some solace with the nerds. Playing second fiddle to Jesus' Favorite sucked. But you'll have to read MY BLOG TO GET THAT STORY. WAH FUCKING WAH.

One of these days, Annie is going to have her own show on HBO, or she'll be a cast member on SNL (even though she's really too talented to waste it on them). Some publicity jerk will make an appointment with Annie's assistant's assistant, and after waiting in the hall for six hours while Annie listens to Winger on repeat and drinks champagne out of the coke-rotted skull of Ashley Olsen, (who mysteriously died while hosting the show months earlier), that publicity jerk will be granted entrance to Annie's gold-plated dressing room. After carefully stepping over the empty wine bottles and pot bellied pigs, the publicity jerk will tell Annie, "Excuse me, Ms. Ser --"

"Don't look at me!" Annie will shout, from behind her veil.

"Sorry, sorry." The publicity jerk will say. "The network thinks it would be a great idea to synergize the audience by cromulently maximizing the interactive --"

"If you want me to start a BLOG, just ask me to start a BLOG," Annie will say, from atop her pile of plush velvet pillows. "Because I've had a BLOG since all the way back in 2005, right before Nickerson and Wheaton  . . ." Annie's voice will trail off, a tear will form, and it will slowly work its way down her cheek, cutting through inches of blush.

"It's not your fault," the publicity jerk will say, "that you were Jesus' favorite. Being the king and the duke just didn't compare. Nobody blames you for their mysterious disappearance."

The publicity jerk will offer some stock condolence, which was perfected by the network for use on Mike Meyers in 1993, and slowly back out of Annie's gold-plated dressing room. As the door closes, Annie will look down at her computer, and evil grin growing behind her crocodile tears.

Someone looking very closely may see me and Shane, trapped inside, Tron-style, silently screaming for salvation.

Annie will look at the computer and say, "You heard the publicity jerk.Write me a BLOG, and make it . . . brilliant!"

The keyboard won't make any sounds, but the words will appear, as if by magic, across the screen:

Dear Blog,
I often wonder how I got to be such a great master of blogging, and how I finally embraced my inner NERD. Well, from high atop 30 Rock in New York, while I'm waiting to go do a sketch with Rosie Perez, who is having some sort of inexplicable career revival, I'll tell you. It all started at this little theatre in Hollywood, where I was never loud enough for the back row to hear me. That's where I met the NERDS . . .

Elbow & Send.

Posted by Wil at 08:45 AM | Permalink | Comments (26)

I haven't read all of The Art of War in over a decade. I think it's time I read it again.

This time around, though, I'm considering buying the audio version from iTunes Music Store. Has anyone listened to that? What do you think?

If you have a favored translation, annotated version, or other thoughts on this classic text, I'd love to hear what you think.

Posted by Wil at 04:33 PM | Permalink | Comments (26)

Today could have been a really, really bad day.

Instead, it's turning out to be a good day.

I just wanted to mark that fact.

As you were.

Posted by Wil at 02:25 PM | Permalink | Comments (15)

Well, I'd like to claim credit for it, but I'm sure it was already in the works when I posted this idea last night.

TiVo has already decided to give subscribers the option to receive targeted ads:

TiVo will soon offer subscribers a way to customize some of the ads they receive -- and offer advertisers a way to make sure they're targeting consumers who want what they're pitching.

The new service won't conflict with ads seen (or fast-forwarded) in live or on-demand viewing or the "showcases" of longform advertising that appear in a menu, often purchased by automakers or movie studios.

Instead, this new feature will work in much the same way TiVo subscribers create "WishLists" to find programs. But instead of Jimmy Stewart movies or TV shows about baseball, TiVo users would register a profile with the company based on their interests. Then, in a section of the TiVo menu system, they will find ads -- short- and longform -- based on their interests.

Someone in the market for a new car would find ads for cars that someone who isn't would never see, for instance.

"What we've learned is, TiVo customers want to know about new products and services but on their own time," TiVo vp national advertising sales Davina Kent said.

I dislike advertising, but it's a fact of life. Luckily, it's fairly easy to tune it out, via mute buttons and fast forwarding, but as I said yesterday, I'd be much more inclined to pay attention to advertising for products or services I care about than the bullshit they spew out of the box right now.

What I'd really like to see is some sort of advertising model with TiVo which would allow indie publishers (like Monolith Press, or Vagrant Records) to reach interested viewers at reduced rates. If I could afford it, I would absolutely advertise Monolith products to audiences I think would enjoy them, but there's no way I can afford to advertise on Family Guy or Alias. And I think that Do You Want Kids With That? would probably do very well with Oprah's audience, but that would cost me more than I make in ten years.

Posted by Wil at 09:18 AM | Permalink | Comments (13)

This afternoon, I wrote a story for the SG Newswire about TiVo offering a "feature" where subscribers can search for specific commercials:

No, it's not opposite day, and yes, you read that correctly. Someone at TiVo thinks that consumers really love commercials so much, they want to be able to search through their recorded content just to find them.

[TiVo] on Monday said it is working on technology that lets viewers search for specific advertisements.

The technology, which is expected to launch in early 2006, is the latest sign of the advertising industry's efforts to reach consumers who are taking advantage of high-tech products to escape the traditional ad pitch.

[. . .]

The advertising service will let subscribers search for a product by category or keyword, then TiVo would deliver matching commercials to the consumer's set-top box.

I snarkily (snarkily? Is that a word? minus ten points, Wheaton) concluded that this is a totally lame feature that nobody would ever want to use:

Soooo . . .  TiVo users complain by the tens of thousands that they want to be able to skip commercials, and TiVo gives them the ability to search for specific commercials?! Uh, okay.

TiVo must have done some market research for this feature, which leads me to wonder, who are the idiots claiming to be technology enthusiasts that TiVo talked to?

But now that it's hours later, and I've had time to reconsider my snark . . . maybe I can be one of those idiots. I had this idea: what if TiVo subscribers were able to set up some sort of "profile" where they would check off a range of interests, as well as a range of things they are positively not interested in, and advertisers could target ads to the individual subscribers? It sort of longtails advertising, right? For example, I hate car commercials and beer commercials. But I'm interested in outdoor activities, so I respond to ads from places like REI. I am not interested in the latest Tom Cruise crap-o-rama, but I really enjoy the acting styles of Mr. Johnny Depp. I know it's a long shot, and I know that the service as described (if I understand it correctly) is "client" side rather than "server" side, but wouldn't it make more sense for advertisers to serve ads to people who were more likely to use the products or services they're advertising?

I imagine that advertisers would still want to use commercials to inform consumers about new products, or new films, or whatever, and maybe there could be some auto-subscribed advertising channel which would serve anything, regardless of a subscriber's preferences. But at the end of that commercial, the subscriber could "Thumbs Up" or "Thumbs Down" the product or service, and TiVo could adjust ads served to that subscriber accordingly.

This could even open up advertising to smaller companies who can't afford to buy prime time slots that reach the entire country, but may be able to afford 50,000 buys for targeted audience members. I imagine that they'd get a better conversion on their ad sales.

There are obvious problems: privacy is the most glaring, but there are also several different demographics living in each house, so something would have to be done to adjust to the primary viewer of, say, CSI and the primary viewer of, say, Desperate Housewives, and the primary viewer of SpongeBob Squarepants.

I know that there are smarter people than me who read my blog. So what do you think? Shoot this full of holes and we'll see if there's anything left.

Posted by Wil at 06:22 PM | Permalink | Comments (36)

(via boingboing)

Posted by Wil at 04:35 PM | Permalink | Comments (8)

Nothing pisses me off more than finding out that some jerk upset one of my kids, and there's nothing I can do about it.

I know that in the long run, the best thing I can do is offer love, understanding and support, but parents out there probably know what I'm talking about; that feeling of helplessness sucks, and makes me stabby.

Posted by Wil at 11:04 AM | Permalink | Comments (35)

I played poker last night at Commerce with a one-armed Chinese man, a drug dealer, and Shane Nickerson.

His fingernails were stained black, the same color as his black Los Angeles Dodgers cap. His huge adam's apple pushed out against two or three days worth of stubble. His blue eyes were bloodshot and pinned, and when he walked up to the table, he bounced his head around, pealed a one hundred dollar bill off a thick gangster roll from his pocket, and said, "Yeah-heah-heah-ha-ha-hah-heaaah!" He was one of the worst players I've ever seen, and that wad of bills came out of his pocket for several rebuys while I was there.

While it's very convenient to play online, one of the major benefits of playing live poker is seeing characters like Suckout Guy and One Armed Man. Shane and I also saw a guy in a floor-length oilskin duster who had a Texas Rangers star to accompany the feather on his fedora, as well as a gaggle of outrageously hot girls in too-tight cowboy shirts. The guy in the 8 seat at our table says he took the SAT with me at Granada Hills High about sixteen years ago, and at one point stacked up over $500 in front of him by making boat-over-boat.

Posted by Wil at 02:45 PM | Permalink | Comments (6)

Annie (who is not my wife and partner-in-crime Anne, but is my friend and ACME dance partner Annie) has updated her blog, Jesus' Favorite.

annie writes:

"hey wil old buddy funny guy,

do i get a day off from the blog cuz of the holiday? i asked duke nickerson and he said no.  but I thought i'd try you cuz you’re way cooler and stuff.

xo,
jesus' favorite "

ELBOW AND SEND
WAIT FOR RESPONSE

Nothing.

STILL WAITING…

He’s probably making pie and blogging about it.

Wil:  “Blog blog I love pie blog blog I went to the store blog blog I’m hot."

LEAVE COMPUTER
GO DO NON-NERD THING

Time passes...

GO BACK TO COMPUTER
CHECK EMAIL
PUT ON SHEILD TO AVOID NERD TRACTOR BEAM

Well, look at that Jesus!  King Wheat-Thin responds:

wil wrote:

    "Let me stop petting my Ewok and adjust my cape. Just  a moment.

    *ding ding boop bleep dingiddy whoop whoop DING!*

    Okay, the HAL9000 mark IV dual hyperthreaded comptromotron says no, you have to     update it every day for a week…"

Argh!  Double nerd negated.  And by big words no less.   Does that shit get you laid?

Anyway, FIIIIIIIIIIINNNNNNE.  I’ll fucking post on a holiday.

This is the best bet I've ever won in my life. I may be the King, and Shane may be the Duke, but Annie is clearly teh funnay.

Another round goes to Sertich. Shane, we're getting our asses kicked . . . by a girl.

Posted by Wil at 11:13 AM | Permalink | Comments (17)

I'm writing this last night, which is actually right now, but is also last night. Hooray for TypePad's "publish this later" thingy!

Still with me?

Okay. I have to stay up another 90 minutes or so while my punkin pies cook. I'm taking them to my brother's house for dinner tomorrow. Why did I just put them in the oven at 10:15 PM? I'm glad you asked. Because I didn't realize that I had about a pinch of ground cinnamon in the spice rack. As this is much less than the required two teaspoons, I drove myself to the market, so I could spend thirty-two fucking dollars (american) on four different stupid spices. It was really funny when the checkout lady saw my spices on the belt and said, "Don't even look at the price. Just swipe your card and get back home before you realize how bad you just got screwed." Apparently, I wasn't the only stupid-husband-in-charge-of-pies who had been in there tonight. When I got home, I turned on the oven to pre-heat, and began the process of mixing my thirty-two fucking dollars (american) of spices together. I reached for the required 2 1/2 cups of sugar . . . and discovered that we were entirely out of sugar.

I walked into our bedroom, where Anne was already tucked in and watching TV.

"We're out of sugar," I said, as if telling her this would get her to release some of the vast stores of sugar she'd been hording in a secret root cellar that I'd never seen in the seven years we've lived in our house. This was a repeat of the conversation we'd had twenty minutes earlier, when I walked in and said, "We're out of cinnamon, ginger, and ground cloves."

"Remember when I called you from the store this morning, and asked you to double check, and make sure you had everything you needed to make pies?"

"Uh-huh."

"And remember how you said, 'uh-huh,' and kept watching Battlestar Galactica?"

"Uh-huh."

"Yeah."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah."

"Do you need anything from the store?" I said.

"Believe it or not, since the last time you asked me twenty minutes ago, nothing new has come up." She said.

"Okay. I'll be right back." I got the hell out of there, hoping that I could somehow convince her that it was all a dream tomorrow. And by tomorrow, I mean today, but really tomorrow.

I drove to a different market this time, and picked up one pound of sugar. The store was swarming with panicked idiot husbands like myself. The atmosphere was similar to the card aisle in the twenty-four hour drug store around midnight on February 13th.

But the important thing is, I have punkin pies in the oven, now, and I'll have to stay awake for another two hours while they do their thing. So instead of playing poker with Shane and Joanne, I'm writing a little bit, then I'm going to get back to reading Blink, which is a fascinating book that I highly recommend to everyone.

Here are a few random thoughts before I get offline:

Following up on my last post, where the discussion is currently all about music (which makes me really sad, because it entirely misses the point of that story): if you are bored to death with the average radio option out there, and if you find yourself longing for an awesome radio station that plays really great music in a format that completely does not suck, you should really be listening to Egg Radio.

"Before you decide that everyone knows something (or no one does), take a second to realize that you're wrong." -Seth Godin.

Carly lists her top ten cheesy movies, including this turkey (har. har. har.):

8. Anaconda
The true star of this movie is yet to be determined, but it’s a tie between Jon Voight’s facial expressions and the rubber snakes that terrorize the crew. Of course, Ice Cube calling one of them a bitch is high on the list.

Carly's number one on the list has got heat.

I took my cat, Biko, to the vet earlier this week. Biko is Sketch's brother, and is the runt of their litter. He's the only kitty left, and he's the one we thought we'd lose first, for sure. The vet said that he was in perfect health, had even gained a little weight since his last visit, and that all his bloodwoork is normal. He will probably live to be one of those very old cats who is over twenty when he dies. The very next day, Anne found out from her eye doctor that she is incredibly allergic to Biko, and he's giving her some sort of allergic conjunctivitis. She told the doctor that there's no way we're getting rid of him, and he gave her a prescription that costs eight hundred gazillion dollars a week. It's funny and a little sad that she's allergic to him, because they totally love each other -- Biko sleeps on her side of the bed most of the day, and he snuggles up around her side at night. She said, "I love him as much as he loves me, so I'll just deal."

Back in the very early days of The Internets, when it was a big deal to telnet into your friends' machine at school or ftp issues of Phrack to each other, my friends and I would collect and pass around really weird and obscure mix tapes. One of my favorites had Buddy Rich freaking out on the tour bus, a bunch of prank calls to Red (the inspiration for Moe on The Simpsons), tons of pre-CD Jerky Boys, and several clips of Casey Kasem freaking out about moving the time of his show, and a long-distance dedication. I can't believe how hard it was to find some of those Casey clips, but here are two of them: "It's ponderous man. It's fuckin' ponderous." and "The Dead Dog Tape." If anyone reading this has access to other outtakes like these, and you're willing to share them, please let me know. Update: These links seem to be down, probably because the link got WWdN'd. I tried to find contact info to apologize to the hosting site's webmaster, but came up empty. If someone has these files and would like to host them, let me know and I'll change the links.

Last night (tonight) Nolan spent close to two hours reading this book that one of his teachers gave to him, and only put it down when he was too tired to keep reading. He told me, "This is way better than TV." When I went into his room to tell him goodnight, he'd fallen asleep, listening to Audio from Blueman Group.

Okay, it looks like the pies are just about done, which means that I am, too. Happy Thanksgiving to those of you who celebrate this holiday. I hope you get to spend it with people you love.

Posted by Wil at 06:02 AM | Permalink | Comments (43)

I had to use Anne's car to drive the kids to school this morning, and when I turned it on, her XM radio was tuned to the 80s station.

Ryan hopped into the car, and though I was seriously rocking out to NuShooz, grabbed the radio and changed it.

"What do you think you're doing?" I said.

"Changing the radio station." Translation: You are so lame. I rule because I am sixteen.

"Well, when you're driving in your car, you can change the radio all you want. But when I'm driving, if you'd like to change the radio, please ask first." Translation: I may be lame, but I'm still your parent.

I backed out of the driveway.

Ryan sighed and rolled his eyes. "May. I. Change. The. Station?" Translation: You are so lame. Now I will use the words you requested, but I will deliver them as sarcastically as possible. I rule because I am sixteen.

"No," I said. "You may not." I took a deep breath, "Baby! Ah-ah-ah- can't wait! Muh-nah-nah-nah-nah-bop-de-bop Muh-nah-bup-bop-be-bop!" Translation: I can be just as annoying to you as you are to me. Age and treachery will always win over youth and vigor. I rule because I am thirty-three.

From the backseat, Nolan said, "Wil, this is really horrible . . . radio. You will note I did not call it 'music.'" Translation: I'm not going to join in the lameness this morning. Rather, I will make a joke to diffuse the tension. I rule because . . . I just do.

"I know," I said. "But now that I have the power of horrible 80s pop music, there is nothing that can stop me."

Ryan and Nolan both said, "What?" Translation: What?

Before I could dazzle them with yet another brilliant non sequitur, the song ended, and the opening strains of Mr. Roboto filled the car.

I stole a sideways glance at Ryan, and caught him stealing a sideways glance at me.

"Is this Mister Roboto?" He said. Translation: Uh-oh. I love this song, and I know you've heard me listening to it in my bedroom. How am I going to maintain my carefully-crafted facade of indifference to everything?

"Yep," I said. "You're wondering who I am-machine or mannequin! With parts made in Japan, I am the modren man!"

"Did he just say 'modren'?" Nolan said. Translation: What the hell does modren mean? Can I say hell in my thoughts? I guess I can, since nobody can hear me. Hell hell hell. Hell damn hell. Damn damn crap. Crap damn --

"Inded he did," I said.

"What is 'modren'?" He said.

"It's Dennis DeYoung's concept album version of modern," I said.

"Does this have something to do with mullets?

"You know it does," I began.

"Because the mullet was the official harcut of rock and roll in the eighties," Ryan said. "I remember." Translation: I was paying attention to you that one time. But you're still lame. Nothing personal.

I put on my best Dennis DeYoung voice and nudged the volume knob just a bit closer to eleven. "I've got a secret I've been hiding under my skin! My heart is human, my blood is boiling, my brain I.B.M!"

I glanced at Ryan again. His right leg was bouncing along with the music, and his head was bopping just a little bit. Translation: Must . . . maintain . . . carefully . . . crafted . . . cool . . . but . . . losing . . . battle . . . against . . . the . . . rock . . .

I pulled into a long line of cars and waited to make a left.

"Domo arigato, Mr. Roboto, domo...domo," I looked in the mirror at Nolan, who was struggling to suppress a smile.

"Domo arigato, Mr. Roboto, domo...domo," I looked at Ryan, and pointedly turned up the volume again.

"Domo arigato, Mr. Roboto, domo...domo," I pulled the middle and ring fingers of my right hand into my palm, and folded my thumb over them. The light changed, and we inched toward the intersection. I subtly rocked the goat back and forth, just at the wrist.

At the top of my lungs, I belted out, "Thank you very much-oh, Mr. Roboto, for doing the jobs that nobody wants to. And thank you very much-oh, Mr. Roboto, for helping me escape just when I needed to!" Ryan shook his head, and began to smile.

"Thank you-thank you, thank you! I want to thank you, please, thank you!" I sang, a bit of Shatner creeping into my Dennis DeYoung.

Ryan laughed. Translation: Okay, you're still lame, and I'm still so cool because I'm sixteen, but we've got a long history together, and now that I realize you're not buying into my bullshit -- yeah, I said bullshit. What are you going to do about it? -- I'm going to give it up and enjoy this. Because I am sixteen, not only do I rule, but I can completely change my attitude in a nanosecond.

Traffic grew heavier as we got closer to the school. I turned the radio down to a reasonable volume. Translation: I don't need to embarrass you in front of your peers . . . this time.

"The time has come at last to throw away this mask, so everyone can see my true identity..." I sang.

Ryan joined me: "I'm Kilroy! Kilroy! Kilroy! Kilroy!" Translation: See? I may be totally cool because I'm sixteen, but I'm not totally lame, either. Remember, if is you who must learn how to deal with me now, because my brain is all messed up. I'm not trying to be a jerk. Honest. I can't help it sometimes.

"Who is Kilroy?" Nolan said.

"I have no idea," I said, as I pulled to the curb and they opened the doors. "But you can be sure he wore a mullet."

"I love you guys," I said. "Have a great day." Translation: I love you guys. Have a great day.

"Okay," they said, "we will." Translation: We love you, too. Even though you're totally lame.

I pulled away from the curb, as Mötley Crüe's Home Sweet Home began to play.

I sang, "You know I'm a dreamer, but my heart's of gold . . ." No translation is necessary. 

Posted by Wil at 09:00 PM | Permalink | Comments (37) | TrackBacks (1)

It's amazing the things you can learn from the Wikipedia.

During a bit of research just now, I ended up at The Mullet. The list of well-known people who have worn The Mullet over their lifetimes is quite impressive. Here is an incomplete and randomly-ordered sample:

• Jaromir Jagr - Hockey player. Used the mullet most of his carreer, but changed to short hair in late 1990s. His point totals have dropped since getting rid of the mulllet.
• James K. Polk - U.S. President in the 1840s. Appears with a clearly defined mullet in most photographs
• Keith Richards - spent the Rolling Stones' peak years in a mullet.
• James Hetfield - musician; lead singer and rhythm guitarist for Metallica. Many would see Hetfield's as the mullet that finally put an end to their acceptability. In 1995 his mullet was one of the most extreme mullets featured in the Beastie Boys' article, with very short top and sides, and perhaps without such a high profile proponent, the Beasties might never have been moved to write their article. His cutting of his mullet in 1996 was taken by many fans as a sign that he had sold out.

I'm Wil, your guide to the world of facts. (With apologies to Futurama.)

Ah, one more bit of praise for WikiPedia: A few months ago, I noticed that there was an error in my filmography there. I posted about it in my Slashdot journal, and the error was corrected within ten minutes. Contrast that with my entry at IMDB, which contains numerous errors. I've repeatedly contatcted IMDB to get the errors corrected, most recently over a month ago. To date, the IMDB has never responded to my requests, either via e-mail, or by editing the content.

Posted by Wil at 07:54 PM | Permalink | Comments (16) | TrackBacks (2)

Jason Kirk is a fellow writer, poker player, and poker blogger. Last Friday, he interviewed me for PokerMagazine.com:

JK: You've already alluded to your history with pocket Kings in no-limit holdem. What goes through your mind today when you look down and find them?

WW: "Oh no, not again." (laughs)
I've also learned not to talk to the poker gods. Of all the gods in the world -- a lot of gods derive their power from being acknowledged -- the poker gods are the fundamental opposite. They're kind of like Fight Club: You don't talk about them.

At the same time, when I'm playing with people who know me and my history with Kings, I'm really happy to go broke with them because it creates a good story.

JK: The semi-private WilWheaton.Net weekly tournaments on PokerStars have been a pretty big hit since they started. Someone called them the "world's biggest home game." Did you expect such a response when you held the first one?

WW: No. Sort of like Benny Binion in 1972, I hoped someday my tournament would have 50 participants.

JK: What do you think has made them so successful?

WW: I think people enjoy the company. I know that's why I like to play. It's the hardest $10 tourney I've ever played in. If I wanted to play in an easier field, the $22 180-man sit-and-go's on PokerStars are way softer. With the Thursday and Friday games, if I can make it into the money I'm thrilled -- I get giddy like a schoolgirl. And my hourly return if I make the money is about $2. I made more than that in a $.01/.02 blogger no-limit side game last week!

It was a fun interview. I talked with Jason while I walked around my neighborhood on an impossibly beautiful and warm afternoon, and because he's a fellow poker blogger and we've played together several times in WPBT events and WWdN tourneys at PokerStars, I felt like I was talking with a peer who I could trust to get the story right.

Posted by Wil at 07:04 PM | Permalink | Comments (2)

Remember when I wrote about how Annie lost a bet?

Well, she paid up, and it is brilliant. Please enjoy Annie's blog, which we decided needs to be called Jesus' Favorite. She has to update it once a day for a week.

I lost a bet. 

So now I have to start a blog. 

It’s that simple. 

Apparently the Kings of Nerdville decided this would be fair punishment. Not a shot, or a drink, or something normal! But a blog. A fucking blog. And can you guess who these kings would be? Yep. Bingo.

Wil Wheaton

and

Shane Nickerson

(Actually I think Wil is the King and Shane is the Duke).

Now we have Annie's, my, and Shane's recollection of the cast party. It's like Rashomon, but on blogs. So it's actually called blogshomon.

I think Annie is my favorite blogger in the history of the world. She was already one of my favorite writers and performers, so she just nailed a trifecta. Annie may have lost the bet, but I think she won this round of our nerdwar.

Elbow and send.

Posted by Wil at 07:40 AM | Permalink | Comments (16)

Pauly wrote,

I forgot I had to go eat lunch with Briana and her mother, who hates me. She's suspicious that I'm just after her family's money. "I'm not," I told her, "I just like sleeping with your daughter." No wonder the woman loathes me. Rich people hate it when you tell them the truth. Briana's father likes me only because he knows that her mother doesn't like me. I'm just a pawn in their world.

I love that so much. It tells us everything we need to know about the narrator, and boy does it set us up for one hell of a fucking story.

Shane took a picture of the placemat he, Annie (where's your blog, Annie? Shane's got other pictures, you know . . . ) and I drew on at the cast party. If you know how to read it, it tells you everything you need to know about the three of us, and why we loved working together at ACME so much.

Posted by Wil at 03:32 PM | Permalink | Comments (5)

"so everybody put your best suit or dress on
let's make believe that we are wealthy for just this once
lighting firecrackers off on the front lawn
as thirty dialogues bleed into one"
    -The New Year, Death Cab for Cutie

Cast parties at the end of movies or plays are always filled with sadness for me, because while we're together to celebrate the show, we're also saying goodbye to each other as we return to our real lives. Sometimes, if I've really bonded with the cast and crew, I won't even go to the party, because it hurts too much to say goodbye.

Cast parties at ACME, though, are always insanely fun celebrations, without any sense of sadness. Because we're such a small company, when one show ends, it's likely that many of us will be performing together again in another show within a few weeks. But Travis recently changed our writing and performing schedule, and because many of us are working writers and actors who can't make the commitment to a show that will start six months or a year later, last night's show could very well be our last, or at least our last together.

I could not have asked for a better way to end the run, though. Because it was a best of . . . show, I got to take a bit of a nostalgic tour through my last year at ACME: when we did Tribute, and Living and Dying in DWP, I realized how sad I was that I got sick and missed most of the run of A Day in the Life. While Kevin and I set props in the blackout between Breaking Up is Hard to Do and William's Tell, I flashed back to the epsrit de corps we had during Love Machine, and remembered how I truly found my comedic voice as an actor and a performer during that show. NOW That's What I Call ACME Volume One wasn't an easy show to do, and a couple of the performances were frustrating and demoralizing, but I love and respect these actors so much. We've grown a lot together, and I'm really going to miss them.

After we did our curtain call, and after we thanked our friends and family for coming to the show, we all gathered in the bar next door for beers and shots and pizzas and gnocchi. Shane and I talked about poker, while Annie teased us about being poker blogging nerds. Kevin and I lamented that we discovered a hilarious beat in William's Tell during its final performance, but we all agreed that each of our sketches went out on top, performed for a house of thirty that laughed and applauded like a sold-out house of one hundred.

The conversation eventually turned to the show, as we were forced to acknowledge that it was over.

"This is like the last night of high school," Annie said.

I looked at Shane, then to Kevin, and Jodi. Chris, who has always been the fundamental grounding force in any show I've done with him, sat at a table behind Annie and Shane with some friends who came to the show to celebrate a birthday. I was sad that he wasn't with us, and indulged in a bit of middle school jealousy as I looked past Anne at him. She was right, and I hated it. Though we'd all try to stay in touch, and though we all hope to be BFF, we all knew that the show was over, and without a reason to get together every Saturday night, we would slowly begin to drift apart, back into our real lives.

We joked with each other, we hugged each other, we took embarrassing camphone pictures of each other, and we teased each other. A lot. (Annie lost a bet to me, and has to start her own blog as a result. "Look, I play Roshambo with Phil Gordon," I told her, "are you sure you want to take me on?" I successfully psyched her out, pegged her as a "scissors," and busted her with my rock. I don't think I've ever seen Shane laugh so hard at anything. My middle name is William, Annie, and you're so busted. Nailed it. Elbow and Send.)

Like teenagers who don't want to go home to the watchful eyes of their parents, we looked for any excuse to stay out, to stay together, to make the night last forever, just like in a movie. But we're old and tired, and we have families and responsibilities, and just after one in the morning, I surrendered to them.

"You guys, I have to drive all the way to Pasadena, and I've got a mountain of work to do around my house tomorrow," I said, "so I have to go."

Hugs were passed around, goats were thrown, and the final curtain fell.

I walked back into the theater, and down the hallway toward the dressing room to clean out my locker. The din of the bar faded until I was alone with the lonely echo of my footsteps.

Posted by Wil at 12:24 PM | Permalink | Comments (18)

And now, some music I've been listening to, which I think WWdN:iX readers may like as well. Ratings are out of five.

Consonant - Love and Affliction (aka Consonant, apparently)
(4) Good indie rock that you won't hear on the radio. John Coltrane's My Favorite Things is awesome.

Yo La Tengo - And Then Nothing Turned Itself Inside-Out
(5) I skipped this and wrote thoughts on every other band on the rest of this list, then came back here and stared at a blinking cursor for close to five minutes. I can't tell you why I like this album so much, or why I like it more than many of YLT's other releases, but I just do. I guess that pretty much explains Yo La Tengo, and that's as good as it's going to get.

Mike Doughty - Haughty Melodic
(4.5) Mike Doughty's introduction to the mainstream as a solo artist is long overdue, and this album is a great way to do it. Mike clearly loves his music, and is an incredibly talented writer. I don't like this as much as Skittish and Rockity Roll, but that's sort of like saying the second Grey Goose martini wasn't as good as the first.

Air - Moon Safari
(3.9) Kelly Watch the Stars. 'Nuff said.

Nada Surf - The Weight is the Gift
(3.75, but growing) The first time I hear an album, I have one of three reactions:

1. Yes!
2. Meh.
3. Hate it. Hate it. HATE IT!

Though you wouldn't expect it, the albums that I end up liking the most, and listening to most often, are the ones that elicit a solid Meh. For example, I flipped over Kid A, but OK Computer got a solid Meh. Guess which one grew on me, challenged me, and is still in heavy rotation? Nada Surf's Let Go is one of my favorite albums of all time (and will forever remind me of working on CSI) so I couldn't wait to buy The Weight is the Gift when it was released. So far, it's getting a solid Meh, but I like it a little bit more each time I listen to it. Look in the Mirror is my favorite song on the album, so far. I wouldn't recommend this as an introduction to this band, but it's worth listening to if you're already a fan. I'm very interested to hear what others think about this album.

The Anniversary - Your Majesty
(5) Proof that good things can come out of Kansas, this is an amazing indie rock album, with surprising depth. Of course, I had to discover this band right after they broke up, so I guess I won't be seeing them in concert any time soon. Sweet Marie, there's a hole where your band should be.

The Rosebuds - Makeout
(3) Music that alternately makes me want to bop around and smash things. I can live with out the "woah-woah-woah-yo-yo-yo-yeah" on Drunkard's Worst Nightmare, but the rest of the album is quite enjoyable. I especially like Back to Boston, Big Heartbreak, and Signature Drinks. It's not a surprise that they're on the same label as Arcade Fire and Teenage Fanclub. As a bonus, they're playing tonight at the Troubadour in Hollywood, so I may just drag my lazy ass out of suburbia to see the show.

Johnny Cash - The Legend of Johnny Cash
(infinity) As I prepare to see Walk The Line, I've put The Man in Black back into heavy, heavy iPod, iTunes, and CD rotation. While it feels trendy and lame to have what is essentially a "best of" album, especialy now, this is pretty much the CD I'd make if I were making a Johnny Fuckin' Cash mix tape.

If you have a rating of your own, or can put these bands together, figure out what I like, and have something to suggest based upon that information, or you just think I'm out of my fucking mind, let me know in the comments.

Posted by Wil at 11:19 AM | Permalink | Comments (51)

WWdN:iX readerJB wrote:

[I]f you don't read AssignBlame.com, you really should. You're the Goat of
the Week, evidently. Check it out.

Because I'm a fan of both goats and assigning blame, and because I am a huge fan of the word evidently, I headed over and took a look:

Honestly, I’d say Wheaton has been a big influence on other celebrities starting up their own blogs. Whether they’re ghost written or actually penned by the celebrities themselves, there is now a glut of Hollywood claptrap flooding the internet. Pamela Anderson, Rosie O’Donnell, Melanie Griffith, Barbara Streisand, William Fu***ng Shatner, Tom Green, Al Roker, Hillary Duff, and freakin MOBY for chrissakes -- all of them have blogs out there on the internet. All of them are spewing their “I’m so fantastic” bile onto what was once a pristine electronic frontier.

In the hands of these “You like me, you really really like me” publicity whores, the internet is going to slowly become yet another cog in the Hollywood Spin Machine. Celebrity Drunk Driving? Repentant blog post. Paparazzi caught you topless on the beach? Outraged blog post. Didn’t get the part you wanted in the newest M. Night Shyamalan film? Sympathetic, downtrodden blog post. With enthusiastic publicists and greedy agents, we already can't tell the honest, well-meaning actors from those who are just using it as yet another publicity mouth-piece.

And it’s all your fault, Wheaton.

You had to go and create something good. You had to start something that was enjoyable for people to read. You had to make something that we could rely on to provide us with a laugh, or a sniffle, or a cry of outrage on a regular basis. You had to go and TOUCH us, Wil.

And now all these posers think they can do it too.

When I saw the title of the entry was alt.wilwheaton.die.die.die, I wasn't exactly hopeful . . . but this is actually pretty goddamn cool. I would like to say thank you, and I'm sorry. :)

Posted by Wil at 07:00 AM | Permalink | Comments (34)

Tonight, WWdN West Coast Warmup #2 is happening at PokerStars. Yesterday, I got heads-up in a $22 SNG, and had my kings cracked by 84d (!) when the flop came 6s-5s-9h, and he turned the 7h for a gutshot. On the very next hand, I had AKo. He raised, I called. When the flop came Ah Jh 9d, he checked. I made a small bet, he raised and I pushed, confident I was ahead, and hoping he'd put me on a tilt-push and call. He called, and showed Ac 8d, and I was about a 4:1 favorite. The turn was the 5d, improving me to about 9:1, and the river was the 8h, reducing me to 0:1.

So what I'm saying is, I used up all my bad luck yesterday, and I'm dangerous tonight. If you're going to come play, I suggest reading two posts I did for CardSquad this week, Blissful Buckets parts one and two. They are about enjoying the game, and having fun at lower limits:

Is it a coincidence that I just wanted to have fun, and I finished the night way way way ahead?

Maybe. But I know this: I had as much fun when I was losing as I did when I was winning. I enjoyed the company of my fellow players, and I did not take a single moment for granted while I played with people I like.

So I am left with a few points, which will guarantee low-limit and small-stakes SNG success, as I've defined it. This assumes that you have a basic skill set, and understand things like the Gap Concept, the Dominated Hand, and the importance of position in no limit hold'em:

 

1. Always play within your gulp limit.
2. Don't play with the rent money.
3. Do whatever it takes to enjoy the company of your tablemates.
4. Don't be afraid of Monsters Under The Bed.
5. Read Zen and the Art of Poker.

Hope to see you all there tonight! The game is at 7:30 Pacific, and is in the lobby under Tourneys -> Private. Password, as always, is monkey.

Posted by Wil at 02:45 PM | Permalink | Comments (14)

Bruce Schneier's latest article for Wired is all about Sony's hyperevil rootkit DRM debacle. It includes a comprehensive timeline, as well as Bruce's efforts to get to the real story in the whole saga. Bruce says, "It's a David and Goliath story of the tech blogs defeating a mega-corporation."

It's a tale of extreme hubris. Sony rolled out this incredibly invasive copy-protection scheme without ever publicly discussing its details, confident that its profits were worth modifying its customers' computers. When its actions were first discovered, Sony offered a "fix" that didn't remove the rootkit, just the cloaking.

Sony claimed the rootkit didn't phone home when it did. On Nov. 4, Thomas Hesse, Sony BMG's president of global digital business, demonstrated the company's disdain for its customers when he said, "Most people don't even know what a rootkit is, so why should they care about it?" in an NPR interview. Even Sony's apology only admits that its rootkit "includes a feature that may make a user's computer susceptible to a virus written specifically to target the software."

However, imperious corporate behavior is not the real story either.

This drama is also about incompetence. Sony's latest rootkit-removal tool actually leaves a gaping vulnerability. And Sony's rootkit -- designed to stop copyright infringement -- itself may have infringed on copyright. As amazing as it might seem, the code seems to include an open-source MP3 encoder in violation of that library's license agreement. But even that is not the real story.

It's an epic of class-action lawsuits in California and elsewhere, and the focus of criminal investigations. The rootkit has even been found on computers run by the Department of Defense, to the Department of Homeland Security's displeasure. While Sony could be prosecuted under U.S. cybercrime law, no one thinks it will be. And lawsuits are never the whole story.

This saga is full of weird twists. Some pointed out how this sort of software would degrade the reliability of Windows. Someone created malicious code that used the rootkit to hide itself. A hacker used the rootkit to avoid the spyware of a popular game. And there were even calls for a worldwide Sony boycott. After all, if you can't trust Sony not to infect your computer when you buy its music CDs, can you trust it to sell you an uninfected computer in the first place? That's a good question, but -- again -- not the real story.

So what is the real story? I'm not going to steal Bruce's thunder, or deprive Wired of your precious clicks. So if you're interested, I highly recommend giving it a read.

Posted by Wil at 12:34 PM | Permalink | Comments (8) | TrackBacks (1)

So I got the new Wilco CD, Kicking Television: Live in Chicago. It sounds great, and has one of the most incredible version of Spiders (Kidsmoke) I've ever heard, but it's not much different from any other soundboard recording from the same tour earlier this year. I'm not ashamed to admit that I have a pile of recordings from that tour, because I am that big of a Wilco geek. I even picked up the actual CD, rather than buying it from the iTunes Music Store, hoping for a booklet or something inside, but there wasn't anything that made me glad I'd driven all the way to the store for it. Still, it's a great recording that Wilco geeks will probably enjoy, and the best reason to buy this CD is because you love the band and want to support them.

I finally watched 28 Days Later last night. I enjoyed it, but I think it had been built up way too much by my friends, because it didn't blow me away like I was expecting it to. I wouldn't consider it a zombie movie, at all. First of all, I don't consider it a true zombie movie. That's not to suggest that it's a bad movie, it's just the zombie elitist in me snorting from behind a too-tight sweaty T-shirt: When the infected die, they're dead. The end. If they were traditional zombies, they'd be coming to get you, Barbara. They also don't eat the living, they're just out there trying to kill everything that moves and spread the infection. I really liked that, and I think the zombie comparisons aren't necessary. (Yes, I know that Danny Boyle called it a "reimagining" of the zombie films, so I'll defer to him on this point, but like a good nerd, I'm needed to snort and argue about it a whole lot, first, to feel important.) 

I really loved the way the movie looked, and I loved the score. I thought the performances were all fantastic, and the movie was truly scary and suspenseful . . . but when they got to the whole thing with the soldiers, I felt like the story took an unexpected turn, jumped onto a different track, and became and entirely different movie. Actually, now that I think about it, I suppose it could be an additional examination of how different people reacted to the epidemic . . . but it didn't feel right to me in the context of the film. I watched all the alternative endings, and I really liked the one that ends with the two girls walking down the hospital corridor, without the coda.

Posted by Wil at 10:44 AM | Permalink | Comments (15)

It's my turn to pull the early shift today, which means I get to see the sun rise this morning.

It also means that I get to see the full moon on its way down the Western sky, a brilliant white orb in a that part of the sky that's still dark, though the Eastern horizon was on fire.

(Did anyone see the conjunction of the moon and Mars the other night? And could the skies over Los Angeles be any clearer the last few days?)

There isn't a cloud in the sky, it's already warming up out there, and the dull roar of the freeway was oddly comforting as I walked my dogs around the dewy grass in the back yard. The birds haven't even woken up, yet.

And now . . . coffee and toast.

Posted by Wil at 06:38 AM | Permalink | Comments (21)

Can someone explain to me why Fox cancelled  Arrested Development, but gave The War at Home the  timeslot between The Simpsons and Family Guy?

Why does Fox hate the funny so much?

Posted by Wil at 01:24 PM | Permalink | Comments (50) | TrackBacks (4)

I first saw Star Wars in 1977, and watched Star Trek reruns in afternoon syndication throughout the early 1980s. I started reading SciFi literature around sixth grade, and by the time I discovered Larry Niven in high school, I was a full-on Sci-Fi Geek.

During the production of TNG, I could have very easily lost my love of Sci-Fi, because creating it was now my job (here is the part where I plug Just A Geek, because I talk about that conflict an awful lot in it. Thank you for your indulgence.) However, right around the second season of TNG, I officially became A Gamer, and serendipitously discovered The Prisoner and graphic novels like Watchmen and Dark Knight Returns. Whenever the joy of Sci-Fi was threatened by the daily grind of working on TNG, I picked up a comic, or went to The Village, played GURPS or painted Warhammer 40K Space Marines. To this day, I am one of the only (if not the only) actors you'll find shopping for nerdy T-shirts and technical manuals in the dealer's room, minutes before I go onstage at the convention. (And don't think for a second that I've ever stopped counting my blessings for that!)

My point is, Sci-Fi always provided an escape for me, even when it was an escape from creating Sci-Fi, and though I liked other genres, especially horror and fantasy, nothing ever captured my imagination or stimulated my intellect like Sci-Fi did (and does.) I've always tried to explain to people that I love it because good Sci-Fi (not that action movie bullshit that pretends to be Sci-Fi) allows us to look at our world, and the human condition, in a safe way that still challenges us, but I've always felt that my explaination falls a little bit short.

I've been re-reading Ron Moore's Battlestar Galactica blog today, and Ron explains, perfectly, not only why I love Sci-Fi but why Battlestar Galactica is the best Sci-Fi series in the history of the universe:

Galactica is both mirror and prism through which to view our world. It attempts to mirror the complexities of our lives and our society in turbulent times, while at the same time reflecting and bending that view in order to allow us to extrapolate on notions present in contemporary society but which have not yet come to pass, i.e. a true artificial intelligence becoming self-aware and the existential questions it raises. Our goal is to examine contemporary culture and society, to challenge (and sometimes provoke) our audience, but not to provide easy answers to complex problems.

Frakkin' A, Ron.

Posted by Wil at 02:08 PM | Permalink | Comments (44)

WWdN reader Seymore pointed me to this story in The Onion that hits a little close to home:

Metal Council Convenes To Discuss 'Metal Hand Sign' Abuse

In an emergency session Tuesday, members of the Supreme Metal Council strongly condemned the increasing use of the metal hand sign in lay society, claiming that its meaning has become perverted by overuse.

"The metal sign, or 'sign of the goat,' has all but lost its impact as a token of respectful recognition for something truly 'rocking' or 'metal,'" SMC president Terence "Geezer" Butler said. According to Butler, members are upset that their sacred gesture is being used to acknowledge and celebrate "favorable but clearly non-metal events."

"We have all heard the reports of people using it to greet their in-laws, or after starting their lawn mowers with a single pull," Butler said. "But recently it was brought to our attention that someone used the gesture in a Texas convenience store after snagging the last box of carrot cakes. This simply won't do."

"I remember a time not long ago when the Devil Horns were reserved for only the most righteous of person, deed, or riff," Grand Elder Lemmy Kilmister said. "To see someone throwing the horns to his mate at the launderette because the clothes dryer came to a full stop just as he finished reading his copy of Circus... It breaks my heart."

Nodding in silent agreement were council members Adalwolfa, a curvaceous Frank Frazetta-drawn Teutonic she-warrior magically brought to life by the council, and the spirit of slain Pantera guitarist "Dimebag" Darrell Abbott.

Of course, because I am a good 'merican, I don't recognize the legitimacy of any governing body which I can't manipulate or otherwise control, so I am not afraid of any resolutions which may come out of this so-called 'council.'

Rock. \m/

Posted by Wil at 05:00 PM | Permalink | Comments (24) | TrackBacks (1)

Last month, I wrote about Cornell du Houx, a Bowdoin College senior who is development director for the College Democrats of America and co-president of the Maine College Democrats. He opposes the Iraq war, and the Bush administration's policies, but he is a United States Marine, and when he graduates he will be deployed to Iraq.

"Regardless of my opinions regarding the war in Iraq, it is my duty as a U.S. Marine to serve and I am ready and willing to do my job to its fullest extent," he said.

Others on campus, particularly his political opponents in the Bowdoin College Republicans, feel differently about his service. Daniel Schuberth, a leader of the Bowdoin College Republicans and College Republican national secretary, said, "I applaud Mr. Houx for his service, just as I applaud any other soldier who is brave enough to take up arms in defense of his country. I find it troubling, however, that one of the most vocal opponents of our president, our country and our mission in Iraq has chosen to fight for a cause he claims is wrong. Mr. Houx's rhetoric against the war on terror places him in agreement with the most radical fringes of the Democratic Party, and I am left to question his logic and motivation."

I blew a gasket when I read Daniel Schuberth's remarks, and wrote,

Boy, it sure is cute how Daniel Schuberth tries real real hard to spit out his Mehlman-ordered talking points, but has he listened to what he's saying? Daniel Schuberth, who should probably earn some sort of award from Operation Yellow Elephant, has the fucking nerve to criticize a brave soldier who is following orders, even though he doesn't believe in the war, when he won't enlist himself. He may claim that Cornell du Houx is a representative of the "most radical fringes of the Democratic Party," but it's pretty clear that chickenhawks like Daniel Schuberth are in direct agreement with the mainstream of George Bush's Republican Party. I'm sure he has "other priorities", just like Dick Cheney did during the Vietnam War. What a brave, brave little fighting keyboardist he is!

Today, I read on the Operation Yellow Elephant blog that Mr. Schuberth has apologized to Cornell du Houx, and retracted his remarks.

College Republican National Committee Secretary Dan Schuberth (Bowdoin '06) has retracted his criticism of his classmate, College Democrat (and Marine reservist) Alex Cornell du Houx, who opposes the war in Iraq but is doing his military duty;

In a letter to the student newspaper, Schuberth wrote, "In my attempt to deal a blow to a political opponent, I made the mistake of questioning his patriotism and motivation for choosing to fight in Iraq."

"While I strongly disagree with Alex in terms of his political beliefs and his demeanor towards those who disagree with him," Schuberth continued, "it was inappropriate of me to question his patriotism and motivation for joining our armed forces. As I stated before, I have nothing but the highest degree of respect for any soldier who is brave enough to take up arms in defense of his or her country. This respect is offered regardless of a soldier's political beliefs.

I sincerely apologize to those who were offended by my remarks."

After personally trashing John McCain, his wife, and their children in the 2000 South Carolina primary, George W(orst president ever) Bush told McCain, "It's just politics, John." McCain reportedly replied, "Not everything is politics, George."

If Shuberth is sincere (and I have no reason to doubt that he is), he's earned my respect by admitting that he was simply trying to score political points with the extreme right wing of the extreme Republican party and apologizing for it.

I wonder if any Congressional Republicans will follow his example?

Posted by Wil at 01:54 PM | Permalink | Comments (16)

I screwed up the starting date for the WWdN Friday Game at PokerStars this week, so it looks like WWdN #5: Toby039 Invitational is happening tonight.

That is a mistake! Tournament number 14687178 is cancelled. I have unregistered from that game, and created WWdN #5.1 for tomorrow. If you're registered in the Invitational that is set for today, drop out and re-register in the correct game. Sorry about that!

However, to make this even more complicated and confusing, there is a West Coast Warmup tonight, which starts at 10:30 Eastern (7:30 Pacific).

Details:

What: WWdN West Coast Warmup #1
Where: PokerStars.
When: Thursday, November 10th. 10:30 PM EST
Password: monkey
Tournament number: 14855882
Buy-in: $10+1

Details for tomorrow's correct WWdN Friday game:

What: WWdN: Toby039 Invitational
Where: PokerStars.
When: Friday, November 11th. 7:00 PM EST
Password: monkey
Tournament number: 14856143
Buy-in: $10+1

I hope to see lots of people in both games!

Posted by Wil at 10:53 AM | Permalink | Comments (15)

This dovetails with the post I wrote the other day about being who I want to be, instead of who I think I'm supposed to be:

"...maybe it was going to be my responsibility to keep upping the ante. I was in an automobile accident in 1960 with three other guys...All I know is that I was sitting in the car... and the next thing, I was in a field, far enough away from the car that I couldn't see it. The car was crumpled like a cigarette pack... and inside it were my shoes. I'd been thrown completely out of my shoes and through the windshield.

"...I had the feeling that my life had been spared to do something... not to take any bullshit, to either go whole hog or not at all. Before that, I had been living at less than capacity. That event was the slingshot for the rest of my life. It was my second chance, and I got serious."
                                -Jerry Garcia

Via Seth Godin's blog.

Posted by Wil a