Can't Sleep

So it's 2:30 in the morning. I have to get up at 5:45, so I can call a bunch of radio stations, to do my part in the publicity for Weakest Link effort...and I can't sleep.

I hate that. I think it's something I ate, because my stomach is burning something fierce, and my poor little brain is running a mile a minute. Does that ever happen to anyone? You're trying to sleep, and your brain won't shut up? It's either having an argument with someone, or singing songs, or replaying the days events? It usually happens to me when I've just started work on a new show. The whole night after that first day, I wake up every fifteen minutes or so, hearing them call out "Rolling!" and "Quiet!" and "We need Wil! Get Wil away from the hookers! We're waiting on Wil!"

Did everyone (well, most everyone) have a good weekend and a good Thanksgiving? Usually Thanksgiving is just another meal in my family, but this year it was really different. Being with my family was very important this year, moreso than usual. My mom asked all of us to bring candles up to her house, like the big jar-type candles, so that she could make a little memorial to my great aunt...so we did, and it was really cool. I took my step-kids shopping for them, and told them to pick out candles that reminded them of Aunt Val, one way or another...so Ryan picked out one that smelled like roses, and Nolan picked out one that smelled exactly like her house. I thought that it was really cool, because the one Nolan got was called "compassion", and that was the defining characteristic of Aunt Val...there was never, ever, someone with such boundless love and compassion for people. Anne got her one that smelled like Gardenia, and mine was acacia.

You know, I consider myself to be pretty skeptical, sometimes too much for my own good...but I swear that I've felt my Aunt Val's presence in the last few days, and it's been really comforting. I miss her, but I feel so happy when I think about her, and about how cool she was, that I don't feel sad...

I've always taken the 4 day Thanksgiving holiday totally for granted, but this year I spent the whole damn thing with family, and it was great, since I was originally planning to be out of town.

Here's a little re-cap of the weekend:

Anne and I spent the whole day together Friday, at the zoo. I took pictures, and I'll be adding them to the gallery sometime later today. Then there was the concert with my brother Friday night. Loren and Kelly came by Saturday, on their way home. We went to dinner, and they came and saw me in the worst improve show, ever. Then they went home Sunday, and Anne and I went to see "Spy Game", which is one of the best movies I've seen this year

Tangent:

Has anyone else noticed how movies keep getting more expensive, but the quality of the films, and the movie-going experience, is getting worse and worse? I mean, they're charging us 9.50 for movies in some theatres now, so that we can sit through commercials in the theatre, and watch the shitty movie on a screen that's slightly bigger than the bedsheet that my uncle used to project his vacation slides on. I'm thinking that if they're going to be charging us so much freakin' money to see the damn things, we shouldn't have to see commercials in the theatres, or if they're going to run even more advertising, that they should reduce the cost of tickets, but that's just me.

End of tangent. Sorry about that.

Robert Redford and Brad Pitt are just awesome in this film. I hope it does well at the box office, because I'd sure like to see more movies like this.

It was really cool...I hadn't realized how little I've been seeing Anne the last few weeks, because of my meetings and her work schedule...and when we do see each other, we're so busy being parents and stuff that we don't get to actually enjoy each other's company...so spending the bulk of the 4 days together was wonderful, and very much needed.

Finally, I tried to watch The Simpsons last night, but FOX was showing this horrible movie, instead...it was sort of like Star Wars, but without all the cool mythological over tones...

Wow. I can't belive that I've been sitting here for an hour. I think I'll try to go back to sleep now.

Posted by Wil at 3:20 AM | Permalink

Explosivo

Just got back from seeing Tenacious D, Jimmy Eat World, and Weezer, down at the Long Beach Arena.

Not a bad place for a concert, but not the best, either.

We got there at 7:00, despite the best efforts of my friend to kill us while we were driving down there...staked out our spot on the floor, and waited...surprisingly, the show started on time, at 7:30. Jimmy Eat World went on, and played everything you'd expect, and played it pretty well, but I don't think they're currently suited for an arena show. I think I'd really enjoy them at The Glass House, or The Galaxy theatre, or someplace like that...They played for about 25 minutes, and then there was a break...at about 8:15, Tenacious D took the stage. JB and KG, alone, beneath a mighty banner of the devil...very, very cool. They rocked the hell outta the place, and were simply amazing. Jack Black is a tremendous showman. The crowd was, annoyingly, mostly kids. I'd put the average age at about 14. So JB takes the stage, and he says, "I notice that there's a lot of kids in the audience! Lots of 13 year olds...couldn't get into Harry Potter, so ya came out to see the D! Well, I'm gonna keep the show clean for you tonight. You're only going to hear 25 'shits', 81 'bitches', 324 'fucks' and one 'cocksucker'. Because we care about keepin' it clean for you."

Hilarious.

They played everything I wanted to hear, except for "Kielbasa" and "Dio", but they said that they had to cut it short for Weezer.

Weezer was pretty good...I can tell that they're sick of touring, though, and they didn't play "The World Has Turned"...but they did play some stuff from Pinkerton, which was rad.

Really lame stuff that happened:

*When we were watching the D, these two girls came and stood *way* to close to us, and every time JB would say anything, they would shout something back, like they thought we were on the Satellite of Love, or something...but the thing is, they were the exact opposite of funny. They were so lame and unfunny, that they actually sucked out some of my comedy, just by their mere presence, and I'm going to be forced to replenish my funny before tomorrow's Liquid Radio Players show...otherwise I could quite possibly suck.

*Also during the D, the kids standing right next to us decided that they really needed to smoke a huge joint. Now, I don't use the drugs, but I also think that a lot of the laws we have against them are stupid...but there are few things in the world that I hate more than the smell of weed, and I know that going to a concert and expecting it to be weed-free is like going to a tractor pull and expecting it to be mullet-free...but that didn't make it any less annoying. If you're gonna burn one, don't do it by me, dude.

Really cool things that happened:

*We were wating in a HUGE line to get into the arena, and it sort of doubled back on itself, at the edge of the building...so Jeremy and I are about to make the turn, and head back towards where we started, and Jeremy tells me to wait...and we did, and the line moved back past us, and we walked straight across, thereby making the line shorter. (I don't know if that makes sense, but Jer will probably read this before the weekend is out, and he'll know what it means, and when we play softball on Sunday we'll talk about how cool and funny that was. so there.)

*Between Tenacious D and Weezer, we walked over to the beer area place, because it was the only place that was teenager-free, and my friend wanted a beer (duh). While we were there, I saw my friend John, who plays guitar for Eve6. I told John that Keith and I are putting together a special Holiday show sometime soon, and I asked him if Eve6 would come and play on our show, and be guests, and he totally said that they'd do it. So I'm really excited about that. Those guys are all really cool, and we'll have fun. Funtimes. Yeah.

*When the show was over, we were walking out to the van, and we walked past where the tour busses were, and we saw Jack Black and KG standing outside, just chillin' with some people. We shot them the metal fist and threw them "the goat", and JB totally threw it back!! During the show, they shoot off some of those stomp rocket things, that are like Nerf arrows. My friend's girlfriend caught 2 of them, and we waved them at JB and KG. JB looks surprised that we got 2 rockets, and we told my friend's girlfriend to go get them signed, because that'd be cool...so she asked them to coem sign them, and they did! They were so fucking cool! I can't believe how nice, and normal, and grateful they were. Unfortunately, we drew a small crowd, and JB and KG ended up signing stuff for close to 30 minutes (I know because we stood there, waiting for another of our friends to come back to the van), and they were cool, and friendly, and accessible the whole time. I was very impressed. Jeremy got them to sign his "Cleveland Steamer" sweatshirt. Tenacious D gets 50 billion cool points.

I also realized that I'm 1 degree of Jack Black, which makes me 1 degree of Tenacious D.

ROCK.

Posted by Wil at 1:39 AM | Permalink

Holy Crap!

Ever since reading Ishmael, things have really changed for me, as far as the way I see the world...changed for the better, I think.

Recently, I've been thinking a great deal about how the Universe likes balance, and when something really shitty happens, I'm feeling better about it, knowing that the really great thing will happen to balance it out.

Life's been pretty tough the last couple of years: strikes, threatened strikes, always coming in second, another recession...they all add up to not a whole lot of work for your old pal Uncle Willy...and, when you've got a family to support, you take some jobs that, in retrospect weren't exactly...well...yeah.

So the way I see it, the good stuff that should balance out the shitty stuff is on the way. It started when I did the old, lame website, and has continued to build, when I saw Ben at ComicCon (good balance, there...seeing Ben and meeting Loren really balanced out how shitty that whole thing was), when I built and launched this here website, when I did the whole Win Ben Stein's Money thing, and recently had the meeting with Buena Vista...

Is this going somewhere? I don't want to miss The Simpsons.

Yes. Yes it is.

I've recently been thinking about The Balance, and I've been expecting good things to happen to me, and, not surprisingly, that's mostly what I'm getting...sometime, I'll tell you my philosophy of the Nature of Life, The Universe and Everything (hint: a big part of it is the last chapter of The Dilbert Future, by some strange coincidence.)

I got a fortune recently, at a Chinese restaurant. It said, "You will receive help from an unexpected source". Nice and nebulous, right? Like a good fortune, it's easy to apply it to your life in a meaningful way, right? Well, the good thing I got out of that was to be open to help from people I wouldn't expect it from...like Levar Burton, for example. See where I'm going with this? Nah, me neither. But I think there's a good point hidden in there, somplace, and you'll apply it to your own life in a meaningful way.

Here's the "Holy Crap" thing: I was reading the comments in the last entry, and someone pointed out that I'm in the top ten, for entertainer of the year at EW. I took this screen shot, because I am totally ahead of *Nsync!! YES! :) I thought it was really cool, in a totally lame, sitting-in-the-quad-with-the-cool-kids sort of way.

Posted by Wil at 11:28 PM | Permalink

Aw, Crap

I did this interview with Entertainment Weekly Online, to support the Star Trek Weakest Link...I know, it was risky, considering how brilliantly objective and reasoned their last story about me was...but I was assured by NBC, and by the guy who did the interview, that it was a different medium (Website vs. Print) and it would be okay....

So here's the article...which is fine, except for "Crusher Crushed"...c'mon, how many times have we heard that?

Anyway, here's the deal: I'm really scared about how this is going to come off. I'm not allowed to talk about the outcome of the show, so I'll walk a very slim line here, while I try to explain some stuff.

I made a choice, when I went to play the show. I decided that I'd really play with Anne Robinson, and really go head to head with her, and never back down. Even though that's not really my style, I thought it would be fun, and it was...but I'm really nervous, because, at the end of the show, one of the producers came up to me and said, "You're really arrogant, aren't you?"

I was stunned. Ask anyone...I'm lots of things, but I'm not arrogant. But I played it snotty with her, because I was playing with her at her own game, you know? So I begged them to please be thoughtful when they edit the show, because if they make me out to be a huge dick, it could REALLY hurt my career. All of a sudden, the guy who you used to love from TV and Movies has grown up, and he's grown up to be a huge dick.

Perfect. Can I take your order? How about a nice Iced Tea to start, sir?

But here's the thing that I'm really, really upset about: Roxann Dawson, who I don't know at all, was, apparently very offended by something I said on the show. Here's the quote from EW:

However, Roxann Dawson (''Voyager'' sex symbol B'Elanna Torres) appears less amused when the married Wheaton jokes that he's in love with her. ''Coming on to me on national television -- when he knows my husband's gonna watch the show -- is just unfair, and frankly rude,'' Dawson says to the camera. (We don't think she's joking)

So, I feel just terrible. I don't know her, at all, and she seemed very nice to me, and I am really upset that she felt like I was rude to her, and that I was coming on to her, because nothing could be further from the truth.

I doubt it, but if Roxanne reads this, I want her to know that I meant absolutely no disrespect, at all. I am truly, truly sorry for that.

I just feel awful, and I've put in calls to my Star Trek friends, so I can phone her myself, and apologize to her.

*sigh*

Posted by Wil at 2:46 PM | Permalink

Liquid Radio Players

So what are you doing on Saturday night?

I'll tell ya what I'm doing...I'm performing with The Liquid Radio Players at the ACME Comedy Theatre!

I've posted about it before, so I won't re-hash all the details, I'll just encourage you to go and read them again.

Come on out and see us! You'll be glad ya did!

Posted by Wil at 12:41 PM | Permalink

Hella Hella Hella

I am really loving this.

Posted by Wil at 10:22 AM | Permalink

Inward Singing

How cool is this?!

For the record, I only drink beers that you can't see through, but I really appreciate the sentiment :)

Did you see the Leonids over the weekend? Wow. I watched them from my backyard, and, even through the haze and light pollution of the city I was able to convince my step-kids that the world was ending, and it was their fault.

How about the Simpsons Sunday? I was so happy to see completely random, unresolved, bizarre shit back on that show. I loved Bart just digging that hole. Up there with "Forbidden Donut", if you ask me.

Guess who's going to see Tenacious D, Weezer and Jimmy Eat World?

Well, lots of people, because it's sold out. But guess who has the coolest brother in the world, whose cool fiancee gave him her ticket?

Oh yeah, baby. Jeremy's fiancee totally passed the torch.

One last thing: I wrote some satire for BBSpot, and Brian published it! Before you read it, please read BBSpot's WARNING first:"BBspot is a satirical news and comedy source and meant to be funny. If you are easily offended, gullible, or don't have a sense of humor we suggest you go elsewhere."

Oh, and rumors of my death are greatly exaggerated.

Continue reading "Inward Singing" »

Posted by Wil at 10:34 AM | Permalink

Joy and Sorrow

We had my Aunt Val's memorial service yesterday. It was really wonderful. We had it at her son's house. The whole family gathered in his living room, and we all just shared stories and memories of her. It was the most perfect memorial service I've ever been to. See, I think that a service should reflect the person you're (or yr, if you're a hipster) remembering. I've been to so many funerals and memorials, where they have little or nothing to do with the memory of the deceased...and I always leave feeling cheated. But I really didn't feel that way. All of us, just sitting in the living room, remembering how wonderful she was, and how special she made each person feel...

My mom had asked me if I wanted to say anything, and I told her that I would, but I just didn't want to say, "Me, too." So I looked through my bookshelf, trying to find someone else's words that I could use to express the dichotomy within me: I feel like I should have this debilitating sadness. My Aunt Val was so important to me, that I feel like I shouldn't be able to do anything but sob and grieve over her loss...but when I think of her, I feel happy, remembering all the cool things we did together, and what a simply amazing woman she was...the only time I've felt that crushing sadness was last night. I woke up in the middle of the night, with a start, thinking "Oh my god. Aunt Val is really, truly, gone." It took me close to 2 hours to fall back asleep.

So I'm looking through my bookshelf, and all I have is Shakespeare (too flowery) and Wilde (not exactly appropriate for a memorial)...then I see, tucked in between my "Tao Te Ching" and my "Zen and the Art of Motorcycle Maintenance", "The Prophet", by Kahlil Gibran. It belonged to my Aunt Val, and she loaned it to me about 2 years ago. I remembered that it was so important to her, and I looked though it, to see if I could find something that was appropriate...and I did. I read the following, from a chapter entitled "Joy and Sorrow":

Then a woman said, "Speak to us of Joy and Sorrow."

And he answered:

Your joy is your sorrow unmasked.

And the selfsame well from which your laughter rises was oftentimes filled with your tears.

And how else can it be?

The deeper that sorrow carves into your being, the more joy you can contain.

Is not the cup that hold your wine the very cup that was burned in the potter's oven?

And is not the lute that soothes your spirit, the very wood that was hollowed with knives?

When you are joyous, look deep into your heart and you shall find it is only that which has given you sorrow that is giving you joy.

When you are sorrowful look again in your heart, and you shall see that in truth you are weeping for that which has been your delight.

My Aunt Val was my delight.

Posted by Wil at 5:34 PM | Permalink

The late, great, Bill Hicks

Bill Hicks was one of the greatest comedians of all time. He is one of my greatest influences.

Disinfo has this great story about the man they called "the Nietzsche of comedy, the most legitimate social critic of the 1990s: a renegade messiah who tried to make people laugh, but usually ended up pissing them off, or drawing blank stares."

Posted by Wil at 9:24 PM | Permalink

Saturn Comes Back Around

So the meeting today went very, very well. I really liked the people I met with, and they seemed to really like me back. We talked about lots of different things, and they told me that I'm at the top of their list, when they are working on new projects! I was a little nervous, mostly because I was just excited, but I think I kept my cool...I only rambled a little bit, which was good, and I mostly stayed off my soapbox. :)

I am having major problems with my cable modem service, and it looks like it's going to require a service visit, to my house, to fix it. Problem is, they're telling me that they can't get someone out here until the 26th! I'm currently fighting the angry customer fight with them on the phone, but I don't know what is going to happen. So if nothing changes here for a few days, it's because I can't get online to do anything. I should point out that the national-level guys I've talked with have all been very cool and helpful, (yay tech support!). It's the local's who are being sort of lame.

I know that the soapbox is dead, and it's all my fault. I was doing some work, which required accessing the database that the soapbox uses, and I borked it up. completely. So I'm working to reset it, and I'll make sure that Josh makes me a database just for the soapbox, so it won't happen again. I am truly sorry to everyone who lost messages and stuff.

Thank you all so much for sending the mojo. I really appreciate it. I truly believe that there is something there, when we do things like that...I think that we can do more with our thoughts than we think we can...("You mean that space, and time, and thought aren't all as separate as we think?") <--name that quote, and win a teddy bear!*

Continue reading "Saturn Comes Back Around" »

Posted by Wil at 7:37 PM | Permalink

We asked for Mojo Nixon. They said, "He don't work here!"

Good morning!

Remember the last time I asked for some mojo? Remember all the empty promises I made, about being best friends, and letting you ride in my mom's car when we went to the museum of Natural History for our next field trip?

Well...the time has come, the walrus said, to make some more empty promises.

I need your mojo, and I need it between 3 and 5 PST today. I'll even tell you what it's for this time..."Win Ben Stein's Money" is produced by Buena Vista Television, and BV saw all my auditions and all my tapes and stuff, and I guess they have decided to give me a chance to be funny, because their VP of development and their Director of development asked to have a "general meeting" with me today. A general meeting is where I go and talk to a casting director, or a director, or producer, or whomever, and we talk about stuff we could do together, and it usually leads to employment. (!) They'll probably ask me what type of show I think I would like to do, and would be good for. I'm gonna tell them how much I like "The Daily Show".

Anyway, it's very exciting, and I'm just a little bit nervous...not because I think I'm gonna suck, but just because it's such a huge opportunity for me and my family...so if you could spare some mojo, I'll be your best friend, and you can ride in our car when my mom chaperones on the field trip to the Natural History museum!

Oh, did anyone see the Drew Carey show last night? It was the live, improv version...made me laugh out loud many, many times.

Posted by Wil at 11:55 AM | Permalink

Wow

I am completely humbled, excited, and just a little giddy.

I don't even know what to say...I was linked by fark, metafilter (they were much nicer this time), plastic (still not nice), and too many Trek sites to list. Chris from Slashdot (among others) emailed me to say congrats...he'd heard the news via the submissions that were flying towards /.

The really, really cool part of all this, I mean, the best part of all, is that the comments out there, for the most part, have been very positive towards me, and when they are negative, they are negative towards Wesley. That I can handle. And I bet you that it wouldn't be like that if I didn't have this lame little web site. So, to those of you who have given me a chance to illustrate the difference between him and me, I say "thank you!"

This has been a weird 10 days or so...the universe really likes balance, doesn't it?

Posted by Wil at 9:51 PM | Permalink

Homecoming

When I did Weakest Link, I stood next to LeVar. We were talking during the commercials, and I said to him that I really missed them. He said to me that I should be in the movie, especially since it's going to be the last TNG movie. I told him that I would love to be in it, but I really thought that Berman and company really didn't like me. He seemed surprised, and he told me that he was going to call Rick the next morning, and suggest to him that I be in the movie, at least as a cameo. I thought that would be really cool, and told him so.

Last week, on Friday, my agent called me to let me know that there was an offer from Paramount to reprise the role of Wesley Crusher in Star Trek X. We just needed to work out the details.

So we spent some time negotiating it, and --get this-- Rick Berman told my agent that he was "very pleased" that I was going to be in the movie!

I am really excited about this for three reasons:

* I am going to get to work with my friends again.

* Wesley Crusher will have some real closure, finally.

* For the last 5 years, at least, everywhere I go, fans ask me if I'm going to be in a movie, and what happened to Wesley, and I can honestly say that I'm doing this for the fans, because it will be so damn cool to see all of us together again.

WHEEE!

Posted by Wil at 8:02 PM | Permalink

Score!

From StarTrek.com:

LINDA PARK: The first Star Trek was not my first Star Trek. I started with Star Trek: Next Generation, and I loved it. I loved the holodeck. I loved Wesley. He was, like, my first crush, so that kind of kicked it into high gear for me. Later on I started to watch some of the earlier, Captain Kirk episodes, but for me I'll always be a Next Generation fan. That was my first one, so I'm going to stay loyal to that one.

Cool. No word yet on when Jolene Blalock will be confessing her love, but she will...oh yes, she will.

Posted by Wil at 8:35 AM | Permalink

More Cowbell

I'm getting ready for bed, and Ferris is starting to bark.

So I let her into the backyard, so she can see that there's nothing there.

I follow her into the backyard, and it is just breathtaking...the storm has moved on, so the clouds are breaking up...their bottoms are just slightly glowing with the light of the city, and I can see Saturn through a hole in them.

The rain is still dripping off the trees in my yard, and it's cold, so my breath swirls around my head while I stand in the grass, watching Ferris secure the area.

The smell of many fireplaces hangs in the air, and I can hear the soft roar of the freeway, many miles away. Funny how the sound carries in the cold, still air.

My face is still cold as I write this...boy, I love Autumn.

Posted by Wil at 11:27 PM | Permalink

Here Comes The Rain Again

Some things happened today that were cool: I hung out, all day, with my brother. I took my wife and kids to his house, and we played Tony Hawk 3, and Age Of Empires at his house. Jeremy works all the time and doesn't live very close, so we don't get to hang out as often as we used to. The kids totally look up to him, and just love being around him, and he took the day off today to hang with us, so that was really, really cool.

We went to lunch, and Ryan said to us that while he was at science camp, all the kids started calling him "EMENEM", because of his short blonde hair. So I asked him if he was the Real Slim Shady, or just one of those imitators. Ryan takes a beat, and he says, "Well, Wil, here's your answer." And he stands up! I totally missed it, at first, but Anne caught it...I was so stunned, when I got it...that type of subtle, non-fart-related humor just doesn't exist in your average 12 year old. As I reflected on it, I felt really warm and fuzzy, because I see both Ryan and Nolan developing senses of humor that are very smart, ironic, dry, and sarcastic...I wonder where they got that? *grin*

Ryan is *almost* ready for his first trip to Milliways...I'll go pick out a towel for him next week.

We do this work with Ferris, where we train her. We work on a skill for a few times, treating her when she does it correctly, and then alternating treats with praise, until she knows what it is we want her to do.

Using this technique, we've taught her to sit, lay down, and roll over.

What Ferris really needs to learn is to come when she's called, and we've been working on that. I have her sit and stay, then I walk away to another room of our house, and call her. When she comes, I give her a treat and some praise, and we repeat.

Small problem with Ferris: she is very smart, and when she's learning, for example, to lay down, she will hear me say, "Ferris.." and she'll just lay down, and look for the treat. So I have to make her get back up, and start over again. Sometimes it takes awhile.

I promise this will pay off...just bear with me.

So the other day, I'm working with her, and she's very excited, because she loves the attention, she loves having something to do, and she loves the treats and praise. We've been doing the "sit, stay, come, good dog" thing for about 5 minutes, and she is getting really excited. She's got lab in her, so when she gets excited, she just about turns inside out. I have her sit and stay in the kitchen, then I go to the complete opposite end of the house...past the ballroom, the conservatory, and right into the study. I call her, and she comes running into the room, crashes into me, looks at me, and then she sits, she lays down, and she rolls over. I just about died. I don't know if it's translating, but it was so damn funny to me, seeing her show me all her skills, without me saying anything...

Anne and I watched "Blow" night before last. I really enjoyed it. I thought it was a bit over-edited, but I liked the script and acting. that Ted Demme is quite the director, I tell ya what.

It's raining here in Los Angeles, the first real rain of this season, and I really love it. It's all yummy and chewey. Tonight, for dinner, Anne made turkey meatloaf and mashed potatoes and I built a fire in the fireplace. After dinner we all sat by the fire and played Apples To Apples, one of the coolest games, ever.

Yes, today was, indeed a good day. I hope you enjoyed yours, as well.

Posted by Wil at 9:17 PM | Permalink

Preludes and Nocturnes

I had a semi-vivid dream last night. I say semi-vivid, because it felt very real when I was dreaming it, but as the day has gone on, I've lost most of it. Here's what I recall: I was being chased by this very large man, who was some sort of creature. He was part simian, part alligator, and part human. He was terrifying, and was going to kill me. I was so scared of him, and I was running away, and, though he was very dangerous and bent on killing me, he was saying, "If I could only communicate with them [meaning humans], they'd understand. Why don't they understand me?"

So I got the feeling that he/it was trying to communicate with us [humans], but he couldn't speak our language, so we were afraid of him, and he was desperately trying to talk to us, so he was chasing me...I'm sure there is deep symbolism here, but I'm not very motivated to seek it.

The strange thing is, I was thinking to myself as I was laying in bed that I miss dreaming vividly. I just don't dream as often as I used to, or at least I don't remember them like I once did.

I was reading Ishmael before bed, and I had watched the X-files (with the freakshow), so I think I know where the dream originated...but it was still...uh...interesting, or something.

Posted by Wil at 9:14 PM | Permalink

Karma Whoring Part 2

In the world of comedy, we call this a "call back".

Har. Har. Har.

Posted by Wil at 7:01 PM | Permalink

Veteran's Day

A moment of silence, and respect, please, for all the men and women who have sacrificed and served their country, whether in a conflict just or unjust, always with honor.

Mr. or Mrs. Veteran, thank you.

Posted by Wil at 4:16 PM | Permalink

Galaxy Ball

Yesterday, I participated in The Galaxy Ball. It was a cool reunion of sorts, benefiting the Down Syndrome Association of Los Angeles, and some other worthwhile charities.

I got to share the stage with Patrick Stewart, Brent Spiner, and Jonathan Frakes! I was sitting backstage with them, looking at the four of us, and I was singing that old Sesame Stree song, "One of things just doesn't belong..."and I was a little bit nervous, you know? Every time I get around those guys, I have always felt like a little kid again...but it was different, yesterday. When I first got there, Jonathan was already there, and he smiled that big, warm smile of his, and embraced me. he told me how happy he was to see me, and how glad he was that I was there. We talked about a bunch of stuff...the thing I remember most vividly is that neither one of us could understand why Vin Diesel is a star.

Brent arrived, sporting a very...interesting looking goatee. They joked that it was the first itme in our history together that Brent has looked more like Robert Goulet than Jonathan has. Brent told us that he's playing a character called "The Evil [something something]" in the new Dana Carvey movie. He was hilarious, as always, and he seemed happy to see me too. They talked about the upcoming movie, how things are going with it, and marveled that I was almost 30.

Jonathan says, "Brent, do you know how old W is?"

Brent says, "Sure. He's 37. But he doesn't look it."

I say, "Brent! How did you know? I've tried so hard to keep my age a secret."

"Well, you were 22 when we started, Wil. Do the math."

Laughed my ass off. Jonathan and I talked about TNG on TNN, and how we've been watching the old shows, impressed with how well they've stood the test of time. I told him how it's strange for me to watch them, since I was so young when we did them. It's like watching a high school year book come to life, I told him. So he looks at me, and he says, "You know, all of us just got older. But you grew from child to adult. So you're the only one of us who's really changed."

That was cool. I felt, finally, accepted as an adult.

Patrick arrived, impish and mirthful, teasing everyone and stuff. He hugged Brent and Jonathan, and then fixed me with his gaze, and gave me the biggest bear hug a bald Englishman ever gave anyone. It was one of those joyous, warm, thoughful embraces that people just don't give these days. It was very cool.

We went downstairs to the ball room, and took the stage. We joked with each other, we joked with the audience, we told stories, we all teased each other...and the whole time I was thinking, "I can't farking believe that I am on stage with these guys. Holy crap!" But I kept my cool. Really, I did. Shocking thing was, when we said that we'd take questions from the audience, lots of them were for me. I couldn't believe that, with the Captain of the farking Enterprise, the most beloved character of all time, and the coolest first officer, ever, people were asking me questions. But they did. And lots of people have been to the WWDN, which was supercool, and I got to talk about the website, which was also fun. So if you were at the Galaxy Ball yesterday, and this is your first visit to my lame site, Welcome! :)

The time really flew, and when we were done, Patrick and I were walking back to the green room to get our stuff, and Patrick turned to me, and said, "Wil, I had no idea you were so funny!" He turns to Brent, and says, "Can you believe how funny he is?" Brent agreed, and I told them that that really touched me, and I had such a great time being on stage with them. Patrick told me that he was very excited when he heard that I was going to be there, because he thought I'd just vanished in the last few years.

You know, back when we were doing the shows, I always wanted to be as good an actor as Patrick, as funny as Brent, and as cool as Jonathan. So I'm getting closer to that. :)

Posted by Wil at 9:05 AM | Permalink

Karma Whore

Slashdot is doing "Ask Tick creator Ben Edlund anything...".

So I posted this question, which I think is funny, and I wanted to share it with you, my loyal monkey armada. :)

Posted by Wil at 1:59 PM | Permalink

Loss

My Aunt Val had a stroke on Monday, and she died around 1030 this morning.

I was just going to keep this to myself, but I want everyone in the world to know what an amazing, wonderful, loving, kind, thoughtful, selfless person she was. No person, anywhere, at any time in my life ever loved me as unconditionally as she did. She was truly the matriarch in my family, and, as the initial shock of her loss is wearing off, the growing sadness and emptiness is consuming me.

While she was struggling to survive on Tuesday, and was mostly unconscious, I held her hand, and Anne told her that it was our anniversary on Wednesday...she squeezed my hand, and when I told her that I loved her, and that I'd miss her if she had to go, she turned her head to me, and she smiled, and squeezed my hand, hard. It was the first time she'd been really responsive to us. I felt like she knew we were there, and I felt like she was telling me goodbye, and that she loved me. For that, I am eternally grateful.

Do not ever take anyone for granted, for even one minute. If there's someone in your family who you love, pick up the phone, and call them, right now, to tell them.

I love you, Aunt Val.

Posted by Wil at 11:14 AM | Permalink

The time, has come, the Walrus said...

Boy, having a vacation was awesome, and very much needed. If you haven't gotten away, even if it's only for one day, with your SO, you simply must do it.

We went up north, and visited some wineries...I can't wait until I am successful enough to move the hell out of LA, and go someplace along the central coast, or even SF. I took some pictures, and posted them in the gallery.

Our server got borked while I was gone, because I was using a .vacation to send the autoresponse. I didn't know that .vacation keeps a log of everything, so I filled up /var with 79MB of needless info...so, until I figure out another way to send an autoresponse, it's gone.

I want to run a listserv, for announcements, and maybe a quarterly journal of weblog posts, and stuff...if you know of extremely easy software that I could configure and run, post it in the comments. That'd be cool.

I have some potentially MAJOR career news coming up within the next 3 to 5 days...I can't wait to post it...!

OH! I submitted a link to Fark, and it was accepted!! Woo!!!

I noticed that nobody went to loren's house, or posted lots of useless crap for him. I'm very sad.

I will be posting the next installment in the saga of SpongeBob Vega$ Pants very soon.

Let's Roll!

Posted by Wil at 10:52 AM | Permalink

Make Yourself

I'm out. I'm gone until Thursday, on a much needed get away with my wife.

So, while I'm gone, I thought I'd leave something interesting for you to do: You can go to the Liquid Radio Players website, and listen to the shows I've done. Funtimes.

The two shows I've done so far are "The Lust of Penelope" and "The Madness of the Horror"

They are done exactly like old timey radio shows, ala The Shadow, or The Greaseman, so you'll have to settle in, and pay close attention...but I think you'll enjoy it.

For those of you who haven't noticed, Soapbox is back.

I'm supposed to be in McPaper tomorrow, be sure to check it out.

RFB will be down, because my computer will be off. Why not listen to thepAvedearth? You'll be glad you did.

Or, you could go visit loren, and post lots of comments for him. He particularly likes jokes about monkeys. Tell him I sent you.

One last thing: Did you know that Adam Curry is posting stories about all our favorite bands, and Michael Jackson? It's true. Adam Curry was on eMpTyVee from 1987-1991, or something like that, and he's sharing stories about the bands he got to interview or hang with. My favorite so far is the story of what a freak Jacko was. Duh.

I keep asking him to post stories about Van Halen. You should ask him to post stories about Van Halen. You should call your most estranged relative, and ask them to bug Adam to post stories about Van Halen. That's the power of the internet to unite, and bring us more stories about Van Halen.

Play nice while I'm gone, and stay the hell off the couch.

Posted by Wil at 10:16 AM | Permalink

How To Disappear Completely

When's the last time you looked at your bookmark file? I mean, really looked at it, and realized that most of your bookmarks have gone unused for months?

I did that this morning. Holy crap. I had close to 40 bookmarks that I couldn't even remember bookmarking. So, after cleaning them up, I got to thinking...I'm getting bored with my regular sites. Which is good, because I'm reading more books, seeing more of my family and seeing more sunlight.

But I had this idea: Post one link that you like, that isn't already on this site, that hasn't been posted by someone else. Maybe it will give all of us someplace new to look at. I'll send the coolest one to Fark, where it won't get posted.

I'm going out of town tomorrow until Friday, so there will be no updates to the site, and the RFB (which is up right now, btw) will be down, as well. May I suggest thepAvedearth as an alternative listen.

I'm gonna be in USAToday tomorrow or Wednesday, in the e-briefing column. Cool!

If you wanna read the EFF's analysis of the USAPATRIOT act, it's here. Scary.

Did you watch The Simpsons last night, after the game? I've never seen that one before. Brilliant!

Posted by Wil at 12:25 PM | Permalink

Posted by Wil at 8:56 PM | Permalink

Pac Man Fever

So there's not too much to write about...and I was getting tired of the Baseball post sitting at the top, so...here's something for everyone to do today: play those old 80s arcade games with this java emulator. Thank you to Fark for the link.

Of course, if you find yourself waxing nostalgic for Journey and waffle cones, while you play Tempest, or Berzerk, you can tune in to RFB, which is broadcasting an 80s explosion, right now.

If you find that you need even MORE classic games, I suggest picking up a copy of MAME, and only downloading the ROMs for games you own. *ahem*

I saw the Episode II trailer today. I am not optimistic. Lord of the Rings, however, looks amazing.

One final note to parents: if your child is too young to not scream and cry the whole movie, and you need to entertain it by making baby noises for the entire film, your baby is proably not old enough for the movies, and should probably stay at home.

Thank you.

Posted by Wil at 6:40 PM | Permalink

There is no crying in baseball!

I've just realized why Kim has blown 2 games.

He secretly wants to come and play for the Dodgers, and get a 20 million dollar contract.

Mr. Boras? Your phone is ringing...

Posted by Wil at 2:05 PM | Permalink

Bleed American

Stolen from loren, who gleaned it from killoggs, who found it here:

"Pro-America does not mean pro-war. Or pro-Bush. Or anti-Afghanistan. Or pro-little-flags-on-SUV-antennas.

It means thinking independently and getting better informed and filtering your news very carefully and realizing that just because one version of the American aggro attitude is currently being ramrodded down society's throat doesn't mean you have to swallow."

I'm proud to be an American.

Posted by Wil at 9:24 AM | Permalink

Vogon Poetry

Good morning, everyone.

I am recovering from those $#@!ing Yankees and their $#@!ing 'mystique' and 'aura'...

I swear, The Diamondbacks have been watching too many Dodger games, based on the way they blow 9th inning leads.

Just a reminder: The WILLIAM F***ING SHATNER and WILLIAM $#!@ING SHATNER stores are closing today, so if you want anything from there, now's the time to get it.

Don't fret: The WWDN and Posse stores are still there, and I'm working on a RFB design, too!

My fortune from last night's Panda Express Extravaganza: "Nothing can keep you from reaching your goals".

So I got that going for me, which is nice.

Posted by Wil at 9:19 AM | Permalink

S! A! TUR! DAY! NIGHT!

This Saturday night, at 10PM, your pal and mine, Wil Wheaton, will be performing, LIVE at the ACME Comedy theatre!

I have recently joined forces with The Liquid Radio Players. We battle evil by performing an entirely improvised 1940's-style radio play. We wear period costumes, perform with a sound effects man and musician, and there is always 1940's era entertainment, as well, like Swing Music and dancers during intermission, etc.

Here's the info:

WHAT: Liquid Radio Players

WHERE: ACME Comedy Theatre

WHEN: Saturday, 4 November 2001

WHAT TIME: 10PM

HOW MUCH: I don't know. But certainly less than buying the DVD re-release of Cleopatra Jones.

If you're in the LA area, come and see the show. You'll be glad you did! < /shiteating grin >

If you come early, you can see the 8PM "Best of" ACME sketch comedy show. It's Spud-tacular!

Posted by Wil at 11:27 PM | Permalink

A Message From Robert Redford

Robert Redford is one of my favorite actors of all time.

About 16 years ago, Sundance was not the disgusting marketing bonanza it has become. It was a workshop for budding filmmakers. Imagine Space Camp, but for films. Like Movie Camp, I guess. Robert Redford provided the location, and the filmmakers would go up there, and have access to *real* actors for their projects. When I was up there, I remember Karl Malden was there, Rob Lowe, Lea Thompson, Andrew McCarthy...It was 1985, I think, so you can imagine, they were a very big deal at the time. We'd work on films during the day, and we'd get to watch the projects at night, as well as screenings of popular movies, including a Q&A with the director. I seem to recall that Akira Kurosawa was there, but I was 13...so my memory is a bit hazy on that one.

None of us got paid, we just went there to participate in the workshops. It was really, really cool.

At the end of the whole session, which I think was 2 weeks, or something, Robert Redford had a big party at his house, which was on a hill overlooking the entire resort. I met him at that party, and, even though there were hundreds of people there, and I was just a snot-faced kid, he took the time to thank me for coming, and was very warm, and friendly to me. I was just excited because I was meeting the guy who played The Sundance Kid, but I managed to keep it together.

I just received the following message, written by my old pal, Robert Redford. Please read it, and act accordingly:

Dear Friend, [wil: see? he remembers me! just kidding.]

It is understandable that we Americans feel an almost reflexive need

for unanimity in trying times like these. As a nation, we are rightly

consumed with responding to the terrorist attacks on September 11th.

But, at some point -- and I think we're beginning to get there -- we

need to take a long-term view even as we are reacting to the current

crisis. Really important domestic issues facing us before all of this

happened -- education, energy and the environment, health care --

still have the same dimension and consequence. But we have to

recognize that it's much more difficult to discuss and debate them in

the aftermath of Sept. 11th. Unfortunately, disagreement is sometimes

characterized as unpatriotic during times such as these and open,

thoughtful discourse is somewhat muted. The gravity of the current

situation is not lost on any of us and we all want to do what's right

to insure our national security. It is with this in mind that I felt

compelled to write you today.

A handful of determined U.S. senators, encouraged by the White House,

are arguing that national security requires the Senate to rush a

pro-oil energy bill into law. They have vowed to hold up normal Senate

business and attach the bill to every piece of legislation that comes

to the Senate floor. So far they have failed in what The Boston Globe

is calling "oil opportunism." But with President Bush, himself, now

calling for rushed passage of this disastrous bill, intense pressure

is building on Senate leaders to succumb to the emotions of the

moment. Using our national tragedy as an opportunity to advance the

narrow interests of the oil lobby would not be in the best interest of

the public. This bill, already passed by the House, would not only

open the Arctic Refuge to oil rigs, it would also pave the way for

energy companies to exploit and destroy pristine areas of Greater

Yellowstone and other gems of our natural heritage. As important, it

would do nothing to address energy security.

I'm asking for your immediate help in stopping this legislation. After

reading my letter I hope you'll take action at

http://www.savebiogems.org/arctic/index.asp?src=ab0110a and then

forward this letter to your friends and colleagues.

Last spring, the Bush administration and some members of Congress said

we had to pass the president's oil-friendly energy bill because we

were facing the most serious energy crisis since 1973. But here we

are, a mere six months later, and the energy crisis has vanished. Due

to a slowing economy and falling demand, the prices for gasoline,

natural gas and home heating oil have plunged. Meanwhile, the

much-feared "summer of blackouts" in California never happened,

largely because consumers and businesses made dramatic cuts in energy

use by launching the most successful statewide conservation campaign

in history.

With no energy crisis to scare us with, the administration and pro-oil

senators are now promoting their "Drill the Arctic" plan under the

guise of national security and energy independence. Don't buy it. It

would take ten years to bring Arctic oil to market, and when it

arrives it would never equal more than two percent -- a mere drop in

the bucket -- of all the oil we consume each year. Our nation simply

doesn't have enough oil to drill our way to energy independence or

even to affect world oil prices.

We possess a mere 3 percent of the world's oil reserves, but we

consume fully 25 percent of the world's oil supply. We could drill the

Arctic Refuge, Greater Yellowstone, and every other wildland in

America and we'd still be importing oil, still be paying worldwide

prices for domestic oil, and still be vulnerable to wild gyrations in

price and supply. As The Atlanta Constitution put it: "Burning through

our tiny oil supply faster will not make our country more secure." I'd

go further: increasing our dependence on oil, whether that oil comes

from the Persian Gulf or the Arctic Refuge, practically guarantees

national *insecurity*. And we know that it will bring more habitat

destruction, more oil spills, more air pollution, and more global

warming. The public health implications will be devastating.

If our nation wants to declare energy independence, then we have no

choice but to reduce our appetite for oil. There's no other way. We

need to rely on smarter and cleaner ways to power our economy. We have

the technology right now to increase fuel economy standards to 40

miles per gallon. If we phased in that standard by 2012 we'd save 15

times more oil than the Arctic Refuge is likely to produce over 50

years. We could also give tax rebates for existing hybrid gas-electric

vehicles that get as much as 60 mpg. We could invest in public

transit. We could launch an "Apollo Project" to bring fuel cells and

hydrogen fuel down to earth, allowing us to begin the mass production

of vehicles that emit only water as a by-product. The list goes on and

on.

In this climate of national trauma and war, it is up to us -- the

people -- to ensure that reason prevails and our natural heritage

survives intact. The preservation of irreplaceable wildlands like the

Arctic Refuge and Greater Yellowstone is a core American value. I have

never been more appreciative of the wisdom of that value than during

these past few weeks. When we are filled with grief and unanswerable

questions it is often nature that we turn to for refuge and comfort.

In the sanctuary of a forest or the vastness of the desert or the

silence of a grassland, we can touch a timeless force larger than

ourselves and our all-too-human problems. This is where the healing

begins. Those who would sell out this natural heritage -- this

spiritual heritage -- would destroy a wellspring of American strength.

What's worse, their rush to exploit the wildness that feeds our souls

won't do a thing to solve our energy problems.

There are plenty of sensible and patriotic ways to guarantee our

nation's energy security, but destroying the Arctic Refuge is not one

of them. Please tell that to your senators. They urgently need to hear

it because the pressure is on to move this pro-oil bill to a vote in

the next few weeks. It will take you only a minute to send them an

electronic message from NRDC's SaveBioGems website.

Go to http://www.savebiogems.org/arctic/index.asp?src=ab0110a

And please forward this message to your family and friends. Millions

of Americans need to know about this cynical attempt to promote the

interests of energy companies at the expense of everyone else.

Sincerely yours,

Robert Redford

Posted by Wil at 11:57 AM | Permalink

Steamer Trunk

Today was a good day. I didn't even have to use my A-K.

It was also a good day because my friend Keith's TV show got pick of the week in the LA Weekly, wherein they call him "local hero"! Yay Keith!

In the same article, my friends at ACME, who are in the Sunday Show, got the Pick of the Week for comedy.

I am so proud of my friends! Kick ass you guys!!!

Posted by Wil at 10:20 AM | Permalink

Can I paint your chair?

If anyone has been laboring under the delusion that I am now, or ever was cool, you need to see this.

Continue reading "Can I paint your chair?" »

Posted by Wil at 10:04 AM | Permalink

240 dollars worth of puddin

Over at Fark, we've been talking about me being on Weakest Link.

Somehow, the conversation has morphed into a "Six degrees of Kevin Bacon" discussion...boy, I love that game. You all know it, right?

A was in [movie] with B.

B was in [TV Show] with C.

C was in [prison] with Kevin Bacon.

So A is 2 degrees of Kevin Bacon.

Wanna know how many degrees of Kevin Bacon I am? Click [link] or [comment], and you can read it there.

Continue reading "240 dollars worth of puddin" »

Posted by Wil at 9:57 AM | Permalink

All Hallow's Eve

Happy Halloween, everybody!

Halloween is my absolute number one most favoritest holiday, EVER. Maybe it's my inner Druid...I dunno. I've always loved it. The spooking, the scaring, the candy, the punkin carving...mostly the fact that the fundies don't like it...that's always been a big bonus.

So, what are you doing for Halloween? Why don't you post a picture of your costume in the comment area? I'd post mine, but I haven't put it on yet. I'm gonna be a ghoul, complete with pointy ears and bald head...no fangs, though. Fangs were too damn expensive.

Hope everyboody (ha!) has a great day and safe evening, whatever you may decide to do.

Posted by Wil at 1:50 PM | Permalink

Who was the weakest link?

So I just got back from my taping of The Weakest Link.

I'm bound by contract to not say a single word about the show, like who did what, or who won, or anything like that...

BUT!

I can say something, that is going to rock everyone's world. It certanly rocked mine.

I sat in the green room (a place where actors hang out while they get stuff ready. There's food, drinks, and TV, usually), and watched the World Series.

Not a big deal, right?

Well, I watched The World Series, With WILLIAM FUCKING SHATNER.

It was so goddamn cool. I was sitting there, talking about baseball with him, discussing Randy Johnson versus Curt Shilling (Who was better), the various strategies employed by the teams during the few innings that we were watching...and he was so cool to me, I don't even know what to do. He was nice. He was funny. He was warm, genuine, and basically just a 100% cool-ass guy.

Matter of fact, I can say this one thing about the show: William Shatner was the funniest I have ever seen him, or anyone who was in Star Trek, ever.

William Shatner has earned 50,000 cool points with me, after tonight. One for each monkey at this site.

So, until further notice, I am dropping the FUCKING from WILLIAM SHATNER, and I am closing the store at the end of the week, even though it's earning me enough to pay for the MASSIVE bandwidth I'm consuming here.

William Shatner, you are my new buddy. I'll see you for Game 4. I'm buying the first round.

Posted by Wil at 10:24 PM | Permalink

Oscillate Wildly

Guess where I'm going, right now?

I'm going to play on a special Star Trek edition of Weakest Link!!

It's all for charity, and my charity is The Electronic Frontier Foundation. They're guaranteed $10,000 of TWL's money, and even more, if I can make it to the end, and best my opponents, who include...WILLIAM FUCKING SHATNER.

Holy Crap. This is going to be SO MUCH FUN!

RFB is on autopilot all day, today. There's an IRC chat room called #rfb at irc.undernet.org

Have fun, everybody!

Posted by Wil at 2:59 PM | Permalink

Slashdot, redux

Have you read the Slashdot interview, yet?

I am really proud of it, and the comments there have been overwhelmingly positive. I caught myself beaming more than once, as I read it.

Considering how things have been lately, this really made me feel good.

A big thanks to everyone who mirrored the site. That was super cool. :-)

Posted by Wil at 4:50 PM | Permalink

NOTICE

I finally finished answering the questions from the Slashdot interview.

They're going to be posted tomorrow, so the site will go down for another 24 hours, starting sometime tomorrow around 12 or 1 PST.

If you can mirror the site, let me know ASAP, and I'll put up some temporary links.

RFB will be up all day tomorrow, barring any more live365 trauma.

Posted by Wil at 10:50 PM | Permalink

No Runs for You!

Randy Johnson pitches complete game shut out of the Yankees tonight.

I bet this is going to generate more flames than anything I've said yet, but I dislike the Yankees just slightly more than I dislike the D'backs, so this series is a lot like a presidential election...but Johnson and Pettitte...holy crap what a game!

Top 3 things I liked about tonight's game:

3. Yanks are shut out. Shove that in your 'mystique'.

2. Johnson, being interviewed after the game, is super cool, and praises Pettitte over and over again, saying what a great pitcher he is, and it's 100% genuine. No false modesty. Maybe The Unit isn't such a tool after all.

1. The game is over fast enough to guarantee The Simpsons will start on time tonight in LA.

Posted by Wil at 7:58 PM | Permalink

You can roll a rollo to your pal

"In modern society the opposite of courage is not cowardice; it is

conformity." --Rollo May

Posted by Wil at 12:13 PM | Permalink

Gnash

The night Max made mischief of one kind and another his mother called him "Wild Thing!" and sent him to bed.

Posted by Wil at 1:16 AM | Permalink

46&2

Don't just call me pessimist. Try and read between the lines.

Posted by Wil at 12:11 AM | Permalink

Lateralus

I loved those old vinyl Halloween costumes. I loved how cheesy they were, and how they smelled.

Remember them? They had that plastic mask, with the rubber cord that dug into your scalp? And your breath would condense around the mouthpiece, and you'd end up taking it off, so you wouldn't be wearing that Luke Skywalker mask, you'd just be wearing a plastic shirt?

Retrocrush has a great article about those costumes.

What a difference 24 hours makes. I'm feeling much better today, after getting so much stuff off my chest yesterday. Sorry if it seemed like I was whining. That wasn't my intention. Good thing is, some of my funny has returned.

Went out to dinner last night with my wife, which we haven't been able to do for weeks. There was a long wait, so we sat in the bar until our table was ready.

There's this large party next to us, also waiting to be seated. They are quite drunk. Their name is called ("Donner, party of 8? Donner party?" har.), and they get up to go. The bar waitress tells them that she'll have her drinks sent to their table.

One guy, this tall, mullet-headed, acidwashed-jeaned, pink-shirted guy stands up, and gets way to close to her, and says, "Hey, baby, come over here with me, and I'll take care of the tab."

She looks at him, and tells him that her register-thing is the other way, but the guy is so drunk, and so lame that he is insisting that she follow him. He takes out his wallet, and produces a wad of bills to emphasize his point.

She just keeps walking, and he drunkenly walks into the restaurant with his buddies.

So I've got a soda coming my way, and our name is called ("Jass? Party of 2? Jass?" har.). So I walk over to the waitress, and tell her that we've been called, and could she please make sure that my soda is brought to our table.

She says sure, and I pause for a second, and say, "Or, if you'd rather, I can put on my pink shirt, invade your personal space, and hit on you. Whichever you'd prefer."

She cracks up, and says, "Oh my god. What was with that guy? Thanks. That was really funny."

And I felt genuinely good for the first time in days, because I made someone laugh, hard.

There was much rejoicing.

Posted by Wil at 11:38 AM | Permalink

Slow Emotion Replay

So you've probably noticed that my posts the last week or so have kind of sucked. I haven't had much to say, and the things that I have had to say haven't been, well, funny, or very interesting. Now, I'm not trolling for sympathy here, so don't bother. I really don't want that. I want to write about how I'm feeling right now, in the hopes that I will get some Zen from it, or at least feel better when I'm done.

I'm super depressed recently. Really unhappy, and very upset with just about everything, personally, professionally, and with the world we live in, and life in general.

I am profoundly shaken by what's happening in our world now, and being labeled "against us" is really upsetting to me. It is just sheer idiocy to blindly follow anyone, in my opinion, and what I see happening now is just that. If you're not a sheep following George and the Majority, you're somehow complicit, and you think it's a good thing that 6000 innocent people died on September 11. If you value your privacy, and don't think it's a good idea for the federal government to have the authority to walk into your house whenever they feel like it, you're not patriotic. Well, I for one am absolutely sick of this shit. The USA act has cleared Congress, with minimal debate, and awaits a signature from the Oval Office, and I am just sick about it. I'm not trying to sound alarmist, I'm really not, but go read some of the provisions included in the bill. We have just taken a huge step towards becoming a police state. The horse is so out of the barn, that I don't think we'll ever be able to put it back in. Think of it this way: our politicians all privately agree that the War On Drugs is a complete and utter failure, and has done NOTHING to help addicts, or stop people from abusing drugs, yet they funnel BILLIONS of dollars into it each year, so they don't appear "soft on drugs." The same thing is going to happen with terrorism. These laws have some "sunset clauses", but they're not going to be repealed, because congress doesn't want to appear "soft on terrorism". So many of the fundamental rights that we've all taken for granted are in serious danger.

I am sick and tired of the farking government shoving itself into virtually every aspect of my life, and we as a nation are completely to blame for that. How many of us didn't vote? How many people will write letters to UPN when they pre-empt "Buffy", but won't write their Mayor, or their Congressman? I know that there are still people left in the country like me, who are progressive, and activist, but our voice has increasingly become a lone cry in a hurricane of lobbyists and Big Business interests. Now, we compete with the Siren's wail of "patriotism".

What happened to our revolution? It was bought out by Wal*Mart and Microsoft, Starbucks and Coca Cola. They say that a Democracy gives the people a government that they deserve. Shame on us all.

I am scared to death to fly now. More than I've ever been, and recent events have just affirmed what I've felt all along: airport security in the US is a complete joke. It's window dressing, meant to convey a false sense of security to the masses, so they'll keep flying.

I feel helpless to have any effect in all of this now, and that feeling is just killing me. I remember when I was 18, working on Toy Soldiers in Virginia. Keith Coogan and I drove up to DC for a day, to see all the things around The Mall. I went into the National Archives, and looked at the Declaration of Independence, and the Constitution. I read the Bill of Rights, and I cried. I was so moved by it, and felt so proud to live in a country where "Congress shall make no law respecting an establishment of religion, or prohibiting the free exercise thereof; or abridging the freedom of speech, or of the press; or the right of the people peaceably to assemble, and to petition the Government for a redress of grievances."

I was profoundly moved, and understood what it meant that "The right of the people to be secure in their persons, houses, papers, and effects, against unreasonable searches and seizures, shall not be violated, and no Warrants shall issue, but upon probable cause, supported by Oath or affirmation, and particularly describing the place to be searched, and the persons or things to be seized."

Those rights, so fundamental to our very existence, have been steadily eroded in my lifetime, and I fear that the passage of the USA act has stripped away most of what is left. I mean, it's only a matter of time before I get sent to a "Patriot Camp" to "Re-educate" me about my ideas, when I write things like this.

(Okay, that's hyperbolic, but you get my drift, right?)

On a more personal note, I am just tired. I'm depressed and I feel like my life is under siege. I'm so farking sick of not working that I'm ready to dig a hole and never come out. Not getting the job on Win Ben Stein's Money was devastating to me. I know that I was good enough for it, because the executive producer told me so. I know that coming in second is great, because lots of people didn't make it to even the final four, but that doesn't pay my bills, or feed my family. I am so tired of coming in second, I'm feeling like I should just hang them up, go back to college, and find a new career. It is becoming harder and harder to support my family by just being an actor. What do you think would be worse? Not making it out of basecamp, or dying 100 meters from the peak of Everest? I feel like Sisyphus.

The worst thing about being an actor is not working. The second worst thing about being an actor is knowing that your whole life could turn around in a second, with one phone call. No wonder so many of us end up dead, or in a cult.

I'm also having a hard time with some of the attention I'm getting from this site. Some stuff is beginning to creep me out, and is making me VERY uncomfortable. Bear with me a second here, while I attempt to explain what's going on...I'm getting tons of emails, and some of them are very, very disturbing. People think that, because I write this site, or because I reply to an email, that we're best friends. That is so not the case. In my real life, I can count my "friends" on both my hands. My close friends can be counted with 4 fingers. Friendship is not something that I take lightly, and it creeps me out that others would throw the term around with such ease. Look, having this site has been, and will hopefully continue to be lots of fun, and I think it's super cool that such a large community has sprung up here...but you gotta respect my limits. The internet gives such a false sense of intimacy, and I'm feeling like I have to waaayyy pull back here, or take the whole damn thing offline altogether. I actually got an angry email from someone who was pissed that I'd "turned my back on all my gay fans", because "I had gotten married and I have kids". WTF is that?! The nerve of some people is really, really wearing on me.

That interview I did for Adequacy really came back to bite me in the ass. I was led to believe that it was going to be a funny, sarcastic, satirical thing, but it would appear that I am the butt of the joke there. I hope they're kidding, but being called a crass, sexist, oaf really hurts me, because nothing could be further from the truth. Someone says that I am "so despicable, on so many levels". Why? Because I made some jokes in an interview that was supposed to be a joke? I honestly don't understand some most people. I guess it's my own fault for being trusting. I got trolled, and trolled but good. Congratulations.

I remember, back in the day, when people had this agenda, and it was to prove to themselves and anyone who cared to listen, that because Wesley Crusher was someone they didn't like, Wil Wheaton was a jackass too. So they'd take things I said, out of context, and use them to support their position, and prove to the world (or at least their local Star Trek club) that they were right. I can't believe that shit is still going on. It's exactly what happened with that Entertainment Weekly blurb. That woman who did the "review" could have EASILY emailed me, and gotten some context, or some comments, but she was determined to show how we were all losers and has-beens, so that's what she did.

There is nothing worse for an actor than being called a has-been, because it's an inevitability in your career, and if happens before you're 30, well, you're farked. Perception is everything, and being perceived as a has-been just kills me. I don't think of myself that way, but it seems that, because idiots like The Coreys and the rest of them are all fuckups and burnouts that the rest of us are, too.

Finally, something happened today while I was at my mom's house: I got officially, completely and utterly sick to death of Star Trek. I was standing in her kitchen, and I suddenly went from zero to completely sick of it. I still like to watch it, and I think it's cool, but I quit when I was 18 so I wouldn't be 30 and still living it...well, now I'm still living it, I'm just not getting paid to do it anymore. Doing conventions used to be lots of fun...but I can't do them anymore. Either I'm in, or I'm out, you know? I got out, and I have to stay out.

Do you know how many emails I get everyday that say, "I hated your character"? Jesus. I think it's well meaning, (they usually follow up with something like "but you seem cool", like the jury is still out, because they have such an attachment to hating that stupid character) but enough already, okay? I get it. It's over, guys.

It's no wonder that I can't find my funny. I am so ready for it to come back, but it's buried beneath a mountain of shit, and every time I shovel some of it away, twice as much comes back.

I hate feeling this way.

Hrm. I was hoping that I'd feel better, but I don't, really.

Goddammit.

I want Spudnuts to come back.

Posted by Wil at 2:33 PM | Permalink

Daisy, daisy, give me your anserererrzzzmgfhzxxnxzzzz

2001+Legos=Genius.

Posted by Wil at 10:20 AM | Permalink

Open the basket

Posted by Wil at 9:39 AM | Permalink

Wax on, Wax off

So I guess we weren't the only ones who were upset about this.

Thanks to Shatner Takes It Deep for the link.

Posted by Wil at 10:28 PM | Permalink

Exploitation Nation

This is the most disgusting thing I've seen all week.

Are the bodies officially cold, now?

Learn to swim.

Posted by Wil at 2:22 PM | Permalink

Royale with cheese

This is the coolest thing that has happened, in quite some time. Having my character lampooned in Foxtrot (one of the finest strips, ever, in a post Bloom County world), just rocks.

If anyone knows Bill Amend, tell him thanks from me.

Posted by Wil at 10:13 PM | Permalink

Pigs on the Wing

Radio Free Burrito will be broadcasting Pink Floyd's "Animals" today, starting at 4:15 PM PDT. Live365 is back, so the RFB should be back up in dis motha, streaming all that bombass shiznat you've come to expect from TVsWW.

Posted by Wil at 3:41 PM | Permalink

Karma Ghost

Found at Unrealistic Expectations: What goes around, comes around.

You'll be humming the jaunty little tune all day.

Posted by Wil at 1:42 PM | Permalink

Yeah, but does he have a clever autoresponse?

It could be the hoax of the month, but it appears that Saddam Hussein answers his Email. No word yet on what his geek code is.

Posted by Wil at 1:34 PM | Permalink

Silver Shamrock

Since there are just 7 more days till Halloween (my favorite holiday of the year), I thought everyone might like to look at something scary.

Posted by Wil at 1:54 AM | Permalink

Safety Tips

The Onion has Halloween Safety tips.

I'm Wil, that that's one to grow on.

Posted by Wil at 9:58 PM | Permalink

Scooping Adequacy

I was asked by adequacy.org to do an interview, quite sometime ago. Of course, being Mister Responsibility, I read the questions, and said, "I'll get to those later today".

Well, this day has lasted 5 weeks.

I finished the interview this afternoon, and I'm scooping adequacy, and posting one of my answers, here:

P: Let's say some group of terrorists blew up a Federation planet, and

Picard had to decide how to respond- how to protect civilians from getting

blown up without starting a huge galactic war. What do you think he'd do?

Do you think that Star Trek's mushy liberal view point, like the Prime

Directive of non-interference, holds any water in today's post-tragedy

world?

W: Well, the first thing he'd do is hide out for the better part of the day, when the planet was blown up, because his handlers knew he wouldn't be able to address the UFP with any grace or aplomb. Then, when he did speak, he'd tell the UFP that everyone is either with us, or with the terrorists, to effectively quash any criticism of his policy decisions. Then he'd find a planet where he could claim the terrorists lived, and he'd launch a long and profitable war against that planet, with no endgame in sight. His approval ratings would skyrocket, because nobody would want to be perceived as "against" the UFP. As an added bonus, when he wanted to do something really stupid, like drilling on Lothar 7 for oil, in the Lotharian Brazilfish Reserve, it'd be very easy for him, because everybody would be so focused on the war that they wouldn't notice.

Wait, none of that makes sense. That's just plain stupid. Nobody with any brains would do anything like that.

Picard is smart, and what he'd do is improve security within the UFP, for REAL, even if it cut into profit margins for the big companies that drive the UFP's economy. He'd also do it in an informed, well-thought out way, ensuring that all UFP citizens were safe, without having to trample all over their rights as UFP citizens.

But something like that would never happen. That's just TV.

Now, I gotta finish the /. questions. Sure, I could get to them later, and I could always start my training tomorrow...tomorrow...tomorrow...

Posted by Wil at 4:39 PM | Permalink

Have I told you about my condition?

Beat The Geeks was lots of fun. I searched *all* over the net, trying to find anything about it...but, alas, I came up empty.

Unfortunately, nothing very funny happened, and I thought about making something up, but I've decided against it. I'm just not feeling very funny the last few days.

I hate it when I lose my funny. It's like someone left the door to my house open, and all the comedy ran out.

I'm reading my emails today, and I got the following, and I'm trying to decide if it's a Troll or Flamebait...

I'm guessing that everyone here is familiar with me, more or less, and you've read my entries. So read this, and comment on it. Do you agree?

To: <[email protected]>

Subject: Old Fan of Wesley

Hi,

I just found your web page and read your faq. I'm really disappointed in the reasons you left Star Trek, I hope you have grown up and realized you screwed up. I hope you find work in the future.

I hate to see so many actors think they can do better only to find out they were very lucky to begin with.

Your character ( Wesley) was going to go so far....

I really hope to see you get back on your feet.

The thing I love the most is that this guy marked this email "Highest Priority".

Posted by Wil at 1:01 PM | Permalink

Semper Geekus

Good Monday morning to everyone!

I am off, to work on my friend Keith's show, "Beat The Geeks". I'll have at least one cool story to tell this afternoon.

Posted by Wil at 8:07 AM | Permalink

It's funny, because it's true.

Posted by Wil at 4:51 PM | Permalink

When the body speaks

I'm going through my email, and I was read the following question. What started out as a simple answer has turned into a new entry:

Oh, my girlfriend...wanted me to mention that she was completely and totally infatuated with Wesley and Gordie :-)

Do you consider yourself a part of these characters? Or were they just roles?

That's a good question...

When I am working on a show, that character that I am portraying takes on certain aspects of me, and I take on certain aspects of him. Sometimes, it is very hard to determine where one ends, and the other begins. There are some characters that I can't wait to let go of, and others that I am sad to put to rest...it really depends on how good the script is, and how much I have invested in the project, emotionally. I feel that it's my job to realize the vision of the screenwriter, so I always endeavor to do what the writer is asking. When the writing is very clear, it is easy, and fun. When the writing is unclear (as it was, sometimes, on TNG), it can be like teaching a pig to play poker.

I start out every project full of hope and excitement. Sometimes, that hope and excitement fades to resignation, when I realize that the director is an complete moron, and he's going to ruin the project, or when one of the main actors is an unprofessional jackass, who thinks he can just do his own thing, and not what the script is asking for. Other times, that hope and excitement endures, and is justified with a terrific final cut.

Hope everyone is having a good weekend.

Posted by Wil at 4:44 PM | Permalink

FNORD.

Posted by Wil at 6:06 PM | Permalink

Hoopy Frood

I saw this site in my referrer logs, and went there, expecting the usual...but it turns out that this guy actually said some cool things about me:

BBSpot recently ran a short interview with Wil that's funny enough to make you suspect it was ghost-written by someone who studied Advanced Modern Cultural References at Harvard.

and

Wil Wheaton is apparently a geek, a practiced wielder of sarcasm, and an all-around hoopy frood in general.

Now I'm off to do the happy geek dance.

Posted by Wil at 4:16 PM | Permalink

DoublePlus Ungood Thoughtcrime.

Some thoughts on the previous post, which I'd have put in comments, but the comment thread is so huge, I didn't know if anyone would see them..so, uh...yeah:

I am horrified at the way this kid appears to have been treated. I think a BIG part of it was that he *IS* a kid, and a non-conformist kid at that. I was a non-conformist kid, and I am a non-conformist adult. I know how McWorld treats us...they just give adults less shit because adults stand up for themselves more than kids do. Maybe he didn't handle himself well...but kids tend to react honestly to things...and I'd honestly freak out at someone if they gave me shit for the book I was reading. The authorities there clearly knew that they had over-reacted, because they fabricated a story about him making a bomb threat. Don't lose sight of that.

Should airport security be tightened? Duh. It should have been brought into line with the EU years ago. Why wasn't it? I dunno...but I'm willing to bet it had something to do with corporate profits.

I didn't say that this was scary because I am against airport security. Let's all get that straight. Remember that there was a commision formed specifically to address possible terrorism in the US, and their findings and reccomendations were ignored. Arianna Huffington has an interesting theory.

I was dismayed to read some comments that seemed to fall right in line with the "You're with us or you're with the Terrorists" rhetoric, seemingly heeding Ari Fleischer's warning to "all Americans that they need to watch what they say, watch what they do, and this is not a time for remarks like [Bill Maher's on PI]; there never is." But I am happy that, now more than ever, we can all conduct ourselves here with dignity and aplomb, and argue ideas, not personalities.

Posted by Wil at 3:57 PM | Permalink

War is Peace

This is scary.

Posted by Wil at 12:31 AM | Permalink

Here Comes Your Man

Last night, I went to the screening of my latest movie, "Jane White Is Sick And Twisted". It was very, very cool. The screening was a benefit to raise money for the American Cancer Society to benefit breast cancer research, and I hear that we raised close to 10,000 dollars. Cool!

I am always nervous before a screening...I never know what the audience is going to think, I don't know if the movie is going to suck...it's never a fun, relaxed thing for me. So I was very, very happy to see that the movie is indeed funny, and I think I'm really good in it. I always worry that what I prepared in my head and what I did on the set won't make it into the final cut, which happens more often than you'd think...just read any of William Goldman's books, to get an idea of how an asshole director can ruin a movie.

A big challenge for me right now is to convince The Industry that I can be funny...I once made some flyers for a comedy show I was in, and wrote on the back:

“Wil Wheaton is the best improviser I’ve ever seen.”

-Debra Wilson

MAD TV

“Above all the great talent associated with this film, Wil has been amazing. If you like any part of what he's done, it's all him. If you hate it, it's all me. Wil was funny, endearing, thoughtful, romantic, sympathetic and down-right charming...and that's off camera. On camera he was inspirational. I can't wait to work with him again !”

-David Michael Latt

Writer/Director of “Jane White Is Sick And Twisted”

“Sources say this past Thursday's show with Wil Wheaton was our best show yet! Look for Wil to guest again with us this summer. Thanks Wil!”

-The Liquid Radio Players Website

Improvised 1940’s-style radio show.

“Why doesn’t anyone know how funny you are?”

-My mom

“Wil Wheaton is not funny.”

-Every Casting Director in Hollywood

So I was extremely happy and excited when the audience laughed at the stuff I did. One of the biggest laughs of the night came during a tirade that I improvised while we were filming...so that was some clever voyving, indeed.

I don't know what will happen with "Jane". It's funny enough to find an audience, so it may even get a theatrical release. But it's more likely that it will go directly to video. When I know, I'll update it here.

Speaking of Updates, I have no idea why the update page isn't, well, updating...but I'm working on it. I've been making WAY too many "I'm lame and need help" calls to the guys who host me...so I'm only making the calls now if it's something urgent, like when greymatter ate all my entries a few days ago. Since I'm going this one alone, it will be a few days. I know that soapbox is dead. Working on that, too.

Last night, I had a very strange and disturbing dream.

I was in a large, empty space, where I could see things in my peripheral vision, but when I looked directly at them, there was nothing but blackness...a woman walked up to me, drew a pistol, and shot me in the stomach. Goddamn, it hurt. I can remember the feeling while I write this (I am a VERY lucid dreamer). [Note to self: avoid getting shot. It would suck.] I looked at her, and asked her why she'd done that, and she looked down at me, said something which I can't remember, and opened the chamber thing (It was one of those old Western 6 shooters). She slowly turned the cylinder with one finger, and put in a single bullet. Then, she put the gun to my head, and shot me. I died.

Aren't you supposed to not die in your dreams?

I woke up, and had that "*whew* it was just a dream" moment, and went back to sleep.

Ferris jumped up on my bed this morning. Bad dog.

I'm off like T'Pol's Spacesuit. I have an audition this afternoon, and I have to pick up a script for another, very huge audition on Saturday.

Be nice to someone today.

Posted by Wil at 12:23 PM | Permalink

I heart idiots

It has just been brought to my attention that someone is sending out a potential virus, changing the From: header in the email to appear as if it's coming from [email protected]

If you have received any emails claiming to be from me, with an subject called "usample" or any other file alleging to be a README, delete it, and send an email to [email protected], since I'm pretty sure that's the IP where the email came from.

Here's the information I got by running the headers through Sam Spade:

Trying whois -h whois.ripe.net 194.165.169.179

% This is the RIPE Whois server.

% The objects are in RPSL format.

% Please visit http://www.ripe.net/rpsl for more information.

% Rights restricted by copyright.

% See http://www.ripe.net/ripencc/pub-services/db/copyright.html

inetnum: 194.165.160.0 - 194.165.175.255

netname: ESATNET-ROUTE6

descr: Esat Net Consumer Dialup Modem Bank

country: IE

admin-c: CA1690

tech-c: CC1276-RIPE

tech-c: GP1184-RIPE

status: ASSIGNED PA

remarks: For SPAM/UCE complaints, please email "[email protected]"

notify: [email protected]

mnt-by: RIPE-NCC-NONE-MNT

changed: [email protected] 19991207

changed: [email protected] 20010128

source: RIPE

route: 194.165.160.0/19

descr: ESATNET-NET5

origin: AS2110

remarks: Aggregated route covering multiple Esat Net networks

mnt-by: IEUNET-NOC

changed: [email protected] 19960528

changed: [email protected] 20010423

source: RIPE

person: Colm Anderson

address: Esat Net Limited

address: 4 Westland Square

address: Pearse Street

address: Dublin 2

address: Ireland

phone: +353 1 6790832

fax-no: +353 1 6799634

e-mail: [email protected]

nic-hdl: CA1690

changed: [email protected] 19990118

source: RIPE

person: Catherine Chelmiah

address: Esat-X

address: Citywest

address: Co. Dublin

address: Ireland

phone: +353 1 432 6926

fax-no: +353 1 242 4001

e-mail: [email protected]

nic-hdl: CC1276-RIPE

notify: [email protected]

changed: [email protected] 20010823

source: RIPE

person: Gary Petticrew

address: Esat Residential Service

address: 7-13 Cardiff Lane

address: Dublin 2

address: Ireland

phone: +353 1 6724016

fax-no: +353 1 6771477

e-mail: [email protected]

nic-hdl: GP1184-RIPE

notify: [email protected]

mnt-by: IEUNET-NOC

changed: [email protected] 19981031

source: RIPE

Continue reading "I heart idiots" »

Posted by Wil at 2:32 PM | Permalink

Posted by Wil at 2:10 PM | Permalink

(-1, Troll)

I read /. daily, post infrequently.

As I've said before, I am really, when you get down to it, a geek, who's just looking for validation from his fellow geeks. So being asked for an interview by them was pretty goddamn cool...and the scariest thing, ever. I knew that the server would crash. I knew that I'd go so far over on bandwidth that I'd have to take out a 4th on the house. I knew that the other people hosted by logjamming would get hosed...and I was scared shitless that the trolls would come, and eat me alive.

Thankfully, things have been okay, so far. I read /. at 3, so the signal to noise ratio is very good.

Anyway, I wanted to share something that I thought was hilarious, and very cool.

The story at /. was "Ask Wil Wheaton Anything." There are some REALLY great questions there, and I'm going to have funtimes answering them...but, as I was reading, I saw the opportunity for a joke, and I had to take it.

I was asked:

Do you have an account here ?

Have you ever posted here ?

Have you ever submitted ?

Have you ever got a submission accepted ?

I was tempted to answer all the questions there, using my Slashdot UID, but I resisted...except for this one, because I saw the chance for some operation mayhem:

Do you have an account here ?

Yeah, I've had it for quite some time. I never put my name to it because I was afraid I'd automatically get modded down.

Have you ever posted here ?

Yeah. But not too often. My motto is "if you don't have something to say that's worth at least +1, don't say anything at all".

Have you ever submitted ?

Yeah.

Have you ever got a submission accepted ?

Are you kidding me? If I had a submission posted, that would make me cool, and that would begin the slow unraveling of the very fabric of space-time.

If this post isn't the poster-child for karma whoring, I don't know what is.

I am Jack's.sig

Now, the humor of this will be completely lost on you, unless you are familiar with Slashdot's moderation system...but this post got modded up, which I suspected it would...but the Operation Mayhem kicked in, and the joke paid off, when someone moderated it down...(-1, Troll).

If the person who modded it down is reading this, I must say thank you. You totally got the joke, and I am giving you a personal (+1, Funny) and a (+1, Insightful) along with a (+1, Underrated).

With my feet in the air, and my head on the ground.

Posted by Wil at 12:14 PM | Permalink

Slashdot

The site seems to have mostly recovered from being Slashdotted yesterday.

That was pretty damn cool.

Welcome back, everyone.

Posted by Wil at 12:30 AM | Permalink

Abbot and Costello Meet SpongeBob Vega$Pants!

Can it be? Is it...?

Yes, Virginia. You're not hallucinating. It's time for yet another chapter in the increasingly drawn-out saga of SpongeBob Vega$ Pants!!

Recently, on SpongeBob Vega$ Pants...

After a flight, a buffet, and an earlier than expected phone call...

A sad, sad, snubbing by WILLIAM FUCKING SHATNER....

Hours of autographs, where our hero met his long lost Japanese twin brother...

A tangent that went nowhere...

And a talk that started out badly , got worse, but ended up okay...

We find our hero with just a scant 90 minutes to eat, change, and rehearse before he is to take the stage with his sketch comedy group to perfom "MIND MELD: ASSIMILATE THIS!" for 500 Trekkies.

More, after this commercial message:

Logjamming rules. They host you for 5 bucks a month. Cool!

So I've just finished my talk, and it was okay. Not great, not terrible, but I don't have time to worry about it, because I have a show to do.

I meet my friends from ACME, who I've brought out to Vega$ to do the show, backstage. We've all performed on the ACME stage many times together, but we've never performed this lineup of sketches, and they've never performed in front of Trekkies before. Matter of fact, most of them don't even watch Star Trek, and this convention was their first ever experience with the show, and the unique following it has. We've never had a technical rehearsal, we don't know if the body mics we've been expecting for over a year (that's how long it took to plan the show) are giong to show up. The guy who is doing our music and our lights has never seen the show, or read the scripts, and we don't how that's going to work.

Here's a brief note about sketch comedy: one of the most important aspects of sketch comedy is the blackout that ends the scene. When I write a sketch, I always end it with a big laugh, or a big surprise, and the lights must immediately come down. If they don't, we are left standing onstage, with our proverbial dicks in our hands. Not funny, believe it or not, especially if you're a woman. Try explaining the sudden appearance of a dick in your hand to the audience...yeah, not an easy thing. Especially if you're performing at the church ice cream social. So, I'm scared shitless that the tech guy isn't going to make some mistakes, even though I've made him a set list, complete with the last few lines of each scene, and when the blackout is supposed to occur. If you've read my FAQ, you know that I am a Type-A control freak, and I don't like to leave anything up to chance...so I was freaking out, right up until the lights went up on the show.

We all went over to The Hard Rock Hotel, to eat, where I didn't eat anything that I ordered, and headed back to the convention, so change, shave, put on makeup, and get ourselves together.

We are supposed to be let into the theatre at 7:30, so we can have a quick run through of some blackouts, get our props set, and have 5 minutes to catch our breath...but it's now 7:45, and the show before us has run long, and we're not even going to get into the theatre until 8:20, or 8:30...and I know from experience that an audience's willingness to enjoy your show is inversely proportionaly to the amount of time you keep them waiting past the time on the ticket, which is 8PM.

But that shouldn't matter, because Trekkies love everything that any of us from Star Trek do, right? I mean, all we have to do is show up, and they'll go nuts, right?

Wrong. They can be the most hyper-critical audience, ever, and this audience is made up of people who've paid lots of money to see this show. Some of them bought tickets that cost as much as 1500 bucks. So they expect, and deserve, an amazing show, and I intend to give it to them.

Finally, after much waiting, we get to go into the theatre, and set up. We get our props set backstage. We find an appropriate lighting level. We give the list of blackouts to our tech guy, and we are ready to put our body mics on.

Problem is, our body mics aren't there.

What?

That's right. The body mics were either unwilling to respond, or they were unable to respond.

Bottom line is, we have no body mics. Which means we have no mics at all. Which means that it's highly unlikely that the back of the house will be able to hear us.

One of the good things about being under the gun is that you don't have the luxury of freaking out. You see the challenge, you meet the challenge, and you move on. I think that's why I work so well under pressure.

We all huddled, and decided, "Hey, we're all good actors, and we're all good improvisers. We'll just perform to the back row."

So that's exactly what we did.

It's now close to 8:30. I can feel the audience outside the theatre trading their "we love you, wil" signs for torches and pitchforks, so I decide that we're not going to keep them any longer. We're just going to get ourselves backstage, and open up the house.

I give my CD of "Warm Up The House" music to our tech guy, who I've come to know as Jim, and the doors open.

A few anxious moments pass, while we all go through our pre-show rituals...some of us stretch, some of us chant, some of us walk in a circle. I can't remember what I do...it's always different. I think I was pacing, running lines in my head.

Dave Scott comes backstage and asks us if we're ready. We are. He goes onstage, makes his, "Tape this and we will track you down and kick you square in the nuts," speech, and the lights go down.

I take the stage, and I see that Dave has decided to play a little practical joke on me: the entire audience is wearing "Groucho" glasses. It is insanely funny to me, seeing all these people, in various levels of space-suitery, enjoying a mass giggle, like a bunch of school kids putting one over on the substitute.

It was rad.

I'm looking out at them, and I get the sense that they're all waiting for me to say something funny...so I take a long look around the room, lift the microphone to my face, and say, "You're all related, aren't you?"

Huge laugh.

Huge relief from me, that they've traded their torches and pitchforks for Groucho glasses.

I say some things, and the show starts.

The show goes amazingly well. Jim, the tech guy, is a natural. You'd never know that he hadn't seen the show. He never misses a cue, and, a few times, he even anticipates when an imporivsed bit needs to end, and blacks it out like he's been doing it for years.

We are extremely lucky to have Jim doing our lights. If we take this show on the road, we'll take him with us, we decide.

All our sketches kill, except one, and that's a great batting average for us. We're happy.

There is one small problem, though...as the show is nearing its end, one of the other performers, Maz, and I both have to pee worse than we've ever had to pee before. Normally, this wouldn't be a problem. All theatres have a backstage pisser...but we're in a ballroom, behind pipe and drape...so we do the pee-pee dance for the last 25 minutes of the show. I seriously considered using the empty bottle of Crystal Geyser...but thought better of it.

The show closes with a sketch I wrote, called "Shut Up, Welsey." I won't tell too much about it, because you may see it someday, and I'd hate to spoil the surprise. I'm also shooting it as a short film, and you may be able to see that someday, too, so I'll just say this: I loved writing it. It's always fun to perform it, and I was terrified that the audience wouldn't get it. I thought that they'd think I was making fun of them (I wasn't), and those pitchforks would show up again...but they loved it.

As I write this, I am recalling the feeling I had as I performed that show, and it is so wonderful...so much has happened since that show...it's been such a roller coaster for me, the last month or so...and enjoying that feeling all over again is really cool.

Anyway, the show is over, I come out to introduce the cast, and give a HUGE public thank you to Jim the Magnificent.

The most amazing thing happens: when I walk out there, they leap to their feet. They are screaming. They are applauding. They are whistling. They are howling. They stay on their feet for what feels like 5 minutes, but was probably more like 2...and I am struggling to keep it together, because I feel like crying. You have no idea the shit I've gotten over the last 15 years because of Star Trek, and you have no idea how risky it was for me to put up this show...and the validation I felt from this crowd was just overwhelming.

I'd say that over 80% of the email I get says something like, "I had no idea you were funny." or "I expected you to be a tool" or something like that...and I've been working so goddamn hard to get people give me a chance to challenge their expectations of me, and hopefully change their minds about me, that getting that huge, genuine, passionate standing ovation from that group of people was simply magical. I will cherish that for the rest of my life.

Matter of fact, I was so overwhelmed by the response, that I introduced the entire group, and forgot to introduce Jim!

So, Jim, if you're reading, here goes:

This show did not come together overnight, and it didn't come together easily. We all worked really hard to make it happen, and the whole thing could have been easily ruined by a bad tech guy. Fortunately, we had the most amazing tech guy ever. Jim [here is where I'd point to the side of the stage, and call you up] has never lit a sketch show before, and he didn't miss a beat tonight. If you enjoyed the show, Jim deserves your applause as much as any of us do. [Now, the entire house, and all of us onstage applaud for Jim].

The house empties out, and I run at mach 4 to the bathroom. When I get back into the ballroom, I get the most important review, of all. My wife comes up to me, puts her arms around me, and says, "Honey, you were great. I've never laughed so hard in my whole life."

NEXT TIME: 3 Days in Vega$, and The Star Trek Experience.

Posted by Wil at 8:10 PM | Permalink

Son of a BITCH!

I really, really, really wanted to be Maximillian, or at least Bender. But no, NO!

This is some sort of cruel, bitter irony, isn't it?

Posted by Wil at 10:14 PM | Permalink

Promotion

I wonder, when a former, or current MUDder gets a promotion at work, do they get on the intercom, and shout:

"LEVEL!"

Radio Free Burrito will begin todays live broadcast at 3PM, PDT. Tell a friend.

Posted by Wil at 2:46 PM | Permalink

Mojo Jojo

Well, at last the phone call has come, and I can tell my story. Now, you can know where all your mojo has been going the last 2 weeks.

Before I get into the details, I have to say that, whether it is placebo or not, I felt more confident than I have ever felt, as I went through this audition process, and I know that it helped me relax, and do my best work.

One of the coolest things, ever, came from Susie, who takes care of kids in a daycare here in SoCal. On the day of Mojo-needing, Susie had her kids draw me good luck pictures. She said to me, is there any better mojo than the mojo of a child?

I think not.

She scanned and emailed the drawings to me. I was going to put them all up, but I've decided that I'm going to keep them just for me. I'm giving too damn much of myself away on this site as it is, anyway.

So here's the shortened version of the story: I was auditioning to be the new co-host of the Comedy Central show, "Win Ben Stein's Money". It was a long process, and it was the most fun I have ever had, ever, auditioning for any show. The producers, and everyone who works on that show are so fucking cool, I can't even begin to describe it.

Oh, if you haven't figured it out by now, I didn't get it. It came down to me and one other guy, and, everyone say it with me, "They took the other guy."

Something that is really shitty for me right now, as an actor, is that I have don't have enough of a "name" and enough recognizability to put me "over the top" for shows, but I do have enough to take me out of shows. I can't even do commercials, because I'm not a big enough celebrity to be an endoresement guy, and I'm too well known to be an average joe. I wonder if that came into play on this job? I don't know.

The challenge for me right now is to get producers to see me in a different way. To see past their pre-conception of me, and let me show them something that they weren't expecting.

Like this website. How many people came here expecting some jackass celebrity site, where the celebrity has nothing to do with it? How many people came here expecting me to be a complete ass?

Did I give them what they expected? I certainly hope not.

So this news has devastated me. I really wanted to work with the crew over there, because they are all so cool.

Get this: The producer of the show, the EXECUTIVE FUCKING PRODUCER, actually called me, to tell me how sorry he was that I didn't make it, and how he really liked me, and how he called other producers, to let them know about me. That just doesn't happen, and I am floored by that. He is, truly, one of the coolest people I have ever met.

A sincere "thank you" to everyone who sent me mojo, and kept me in their thoughts. That was very cool, and I think I'll be calling on you all again. I didn't get this one, but I'll get one soon, I can feel it.

Oh, one last thing: can we cool it with the "I'm first" thing? It's really lame.

Posted by Wil at 6:19 PM | Permalink

Here we go again

From Slashdot: "The U.S. Senate passed its version of the "anti-terrorism" legislation last night. The Washington Post, CNN, and Wired all have stories. There are terrorists under every rock, and we must destroy our freedom in order to save it."

Congress is at it again. This legislation is absolutely absurd.

Here's a bit of it, from EFF:

Additional provisions of the proposed Anti-Terrorism Act include the following measures:

*make it possible to obtain e-mail message header information, Internet user web browsing patterns, *and "stored" voicemail without a wiretap order

*eviscerate controls on Title III roving wiretaps

*permit law enforcement to disclose information obtained through wiretaps to any employee of the Executive branch

*reduce restrictions on domestic investigations under the Foreign Intelligence Surveillance Act (FISA)

*permit grand juries to provide information to the US intelligence community

*permit the President to designate any "foreign-directed individual, group, or entity," including any *United States citizen or organization, as a target for FISA surveillance

*prevent people from providing "expert advice" to terrorists

*extends federal DNA database to every person convicted of a federal terrorism offense which includes low-level computer intrusions

*other provisions, whether or not related to online civil liberties

If you want more info, you can read the rest of it at the EFF's website.

You know the drill. Call, FAX, and write your people in congress, if you're so inclined.

Posted by Wil at 5:47 PM | Permalink

The only constant is change

When I opened this site, I knew nothing about html and it's bastard brothers, CSS and.php and stuff.

Now, 8 weeks later, I know next to nothing, but I'm closer to knowing something, which is nice.

The entire site has been redone, in.php now. It should load faster, look cooler, and be easier for me to manage.

If you look on your right, you'll see a new feature I've added: it's books, music, and movies that I like. Since I seem to have attracted a certain type of person here (smart, independent, progressive), my guess is you already have what I'll be putting up. But if you don't and you want to buy it, you should go to a local, family owned business and get it. If for some reason you live in The Republic of Best Buy, or the Feifdom of Wal*Mart, you can click on the pictures, and get it from amazon. It's a good way for you to support my site, too, because Spamazon will send me something like 15% of the cover price, less taxes, of course...so the 18 cents I make will go towards getting me a new computer, with a faster processor, and a bigger hard drive...which means more RFB for the children. Because I care about you, and I want to make my computer cooler, for the children.

Also, I'm expecting my site to be enjoying the Slashdot effect, very soon, maybe even tonight. So if you'd like to mirror the site, that'd be cool.

There is one last thing: While I was redoing the site today, looking at the clock, freaking out that I had to leave, and I wasn't done, I hit a wall. I just couldn't get the pages to look the way I wanted them to, and I was about to have a complete meltdown...and I begged my friend Josh, one of the guys behind logjamming hosting, to help me. Josh did help me, and I would have never been able to fix it on my own.

I owe Josh a huge debt of gratitude, and if you are hooked on this lame little site, so do you.

You should update your links, too. If you were linking to greymatter.htm, you'll need to relink to www.wilwheaton.net/main.php

I am certain that I messed some things up. Please post your discoveries in the comments, so I don't get 500 emails saying, "You messed up A, B and C", or "You messed up Living in Harmony".

I hope everyone is having a good night!

Posted by Wil at 4:48 PM | Permalink

Knowing is half the battle

I love The Onion.

Check out their latest infograph.

Posted by Wil at 10:38 AM | Permalink

Paranoid Android

I think I have found my site's new slogan. This comes to me from an Email:

"like a beacon of light in that mass of crap known as the Internet"

How freaking cool is that?!

Posted by Wil at 11:18 PM | Permalink

The Waiting Is The Hardest Part

To quote Homer Simpson, "Now we play 'the waiting game'...awww, waiting game sucks! Let's play Hungy Hungry Hippos!"

Since I don't yet know what the results of the audition are (if it's killing you, imagine what it's doing to me!), and I don't have Hungy Hungry Hippos, you can read this super cool interview I did with BBSpot while you wait.

Read slowly. It may take a day or three until I hear something.

Posted by Wil at 9:19 PM | Permalink

Got my mojo risin', there's a poodle in my streudel...

Minky Boodle!!

Wow. What a day.

Short story: I killed. I felt the mojo, and it was good. I won't know anything until sometime tomorrow, at the earliest.

RFB is off the air because my computer was acting strange, and required a reboot and a silicon enema.

Long story: coming soon.

Posted by Wil at 11:15 PM | Permalink

More Tree Huggin' Hippie Crap

Last week, I put out a plea for some vibes, mojo, good thoughts, tantric chanting, or whatever anyone felt they could throw my way, because I had an extremely important audition.

I said that if it worked, I would have the coolest story, ever, to tell.

I am the most skeptical person you could ever meet, but I swear, I felt mojo coming my way when I needed it most, and I was relaxed, funny, charming, and all the things I needed to be on my audition.

I don't let myself get too high or too low about auditions. As I've said before, being the best actor usually isn't what gets an actor the job. There are so many factors that I can't control, that I just focus on doing my best read, or having my best possible meeting. For me, a successful audition isn't necessarily one where I get the job. It's one where I leave the room, knowing that I was the best I can be.

So, having said all that, I can tell you that your mojo and vibes, and all that worked, because I was walking on air when I left that room, and every time the phone rang, I was excited that it would be my agent telling me that I'd been hired.

But the phone call that came was not that I'd been hired, but that they were bringing me back one more time, to perform again, and this time it was between me and one other person.

So here I am, putting out yet another plea for mojo, vibes, good thoughts, voodo dances, or whatever you'd care to send my way.

My final, final, final callback is today, at 3PM.

So, if you can, please send mojo between 3 and 4:30 PM PDT, and I will give up all the details of the project, the audition process, and all that, later on today.

Posted by Wil at 10:55 AM | Permalink

Redefining National Treasures

So I'm reading my favorite internet hack just now, and I discover that, alas, Rush Limbaugh is deaf.

Mr. Objectivity calls Rush "the world's most-listened to voice".

Yipe.

But I don't really care about that...here's the quote that inspired me to post:

"President Bush expressed personal concern about Limbaugh's condition with senior staff late Monday afternoon.

'The president noted Rush Limbaugh is a national treasure,' one senior White House staffer said."

That's right. Rush Limbaugh is our national treasure.

What?

The Lincoln Memorial...Rush Limbaugh.

Mount Rushmore...Rush Limbaugh.

Our Indefatiguable American Spirit...Rush Limbaugh.

Spudnuts...Rush Limbaugh.

Once again, Curious George shows his brilliance. He really needs to stop showing up to work high, methinks.

Posted by Wil at 1:07 PM | Permalink

Sheena is a punk rocker

The response to the online store at CafePress has been pretty good. I think that having an online store is a great way for people to support the site, and get something that is (hopefully) cool in return, so I'll go ahead and make a full-blown store here.

Since it is so much damn work to build the store, I've created an online poll, to find out what, if anything, people would be interested in having.

I'm also getting closer and closer to the removal of the frameset, but my knowledge of.php is pretty lame, so it's taking much longer than I'd like. The current problem I'm having is this: I want to have a simple navbar on the left side, as a SSI (like navbar.php). The problem is, I can't get it to have it's own CSS. I want the navigation links to never change, and I can not, for the life of me, figure out how to get that one cell to have it's own style properties. If you know how to do it, please reply in the comments, and you'll have my eternal gratitude.

Posted by Wil at 6:20 PM | Permalink

Cool

Earlier tonight, I was playing Tony Hawk Pro Skater 2 on Playstation with my step-son, Nolan. I don't recall what I was saying, but I was just goofing around, having a good time, and he turned to me and said, "Wil, you are a natural comedian. You always make people laugh."

Out of nowhere. He even seemed sort of surprised that he said it. He went on to say that he was "a natural video game player"...which is what I always aspired to when I was his age, but I'll take natural comedian.

Come to think of it, I'll take anything from my step-kids...at least until they're surly teenagers. Then it's clobberin' time.

Posted by Wil at 11:52 PM | Permalink

Life in the so-called Space Age

I have a cookie for the first person to tell me where the title of this comes from. There are many possible answers, but only one correct one.

So, tonight I watched "All Good Things" in TNN, as I wrapped up a week of watching the best of TNG.

God dammit all to hell if it didn't reduce me to tears, at the end, seeing all my friends seated around that poker table. I thought, as I watched them, about how much I wished *I* was at that table...and I can admit something here, to myself, and to fandom: I miss Star Trek. I miss working with that amazing cast. I miss being part of that amazing show. Watching TNG all this week has been the closest I will ever get to watching lots of home movies, or reading a high school year book over and over and over again.

So many memories came flooding back over the past few days, and each of them could get their own entry, but then we'd never get to the end of SpongeBob Vega$Pants, the re-code of the site, and I'd probably lose my wife, somewhere along the line...so here are some of them, in list form:

*In the first season, when LeVar was driving the ship (before a certain strapping young ensign took over), the chairs we had were really reclined. More suited for sleeping, than sitting...and that's what LeVar would do, all the time! When he was in a scene without any dialogue, he would sit in that recliner, VISOR securely in place, and just doze off. More than once, he got busted for snoring.

*In one episode, and I can't remember the title, so you'll have to excuse me, Patrick was strolling around the bridge, saying something about how we all needed to consider "the source" of something. Thing is, he was saying consider "the sauce". I didn't catch it the first few times, but Brent did, and he turns to me, at the beginning of a take, and, just as they are about to roll, he says, "Patrick wants more sauce." I asked him what the hell that meant, because Brent was always fucking with me, and he says, "Just listen." So they roll, we're in the scene, and Patrick says that we should consider "the sauce". I crack up. Out loud. I can't help it. They cut, everyone looks at me, all pissed off, because it was okay for the adults to crack, but if The Kid did it, it was another thing, completely. I point to Brent, stammer that he made me laugh, and Brent just looks angelic (in gold, mind you. I think that helped him pull it off). Nobody believed me, until later, when someone else heard Patrick saying something else, in his, er...unique...accent, and Marina says, "I'm British, and I know that's not how we talk. So I took the opportunity to point out "the sauce".

*I remember the first time Wesley got to play in one of those poker games that they had on the show. I remember how genuinely thrilled I was, as a person to be in that scene, because I felt like I was finally accepted as something other than The Kid.

*It's weird to watch TNG now, because when I watch "Enterprise", my imagination fills in the ship around what the camera is currently showing...but when I watch TNG, my memory fills in the stage around the set...instead of picturing the rest of the corridors, or the Battle Bridge (my personal favorite set), I remember our chairs, and the craft service table...

I remembered, as I was watching "All Good Things" tonight, about something that happened a very long time ago, which I had forgotten about. Two things, actually, which, at the time, seemed to validate my reasons for leaving.

There was a big deal made about the screening of the final episode of TNG over a Paramount, and I was asked to attend. I agreed, mostly because I wanted to see my friends, but also because I was curious to see how they would have ended it.

They did the screening in a theatre at Paramount, and they sat all of us from the cast together in the theatre. I sat between Marina and Brent, if memory serves. Some of our more high profile guest stars had been invited, and there were some empty seats on the other side of our row where they would have sat if they'd shown...somehow I'm not surprised that Mick Fleetwood didn't show... but John DeLancie is sitting behind me. That's important, as you'll see in a second.

Some stuffed shirt from Viacom gets up, makes some stupid speech that nobody wants to hear bout how great Star Trek is, and he introduces Rick Berman, who comes up to the podium, and makes another speech, about how great the last 7 years have been, and how it was through the work of some people, some people who are here tonight, that TNG was possible. Would those people please stand up? Patrick Stewart. Jonathan Frakes. Brent Spiner. Marina Sirtis. Gates McFadden. LeVar Burton. Michael Dorn. Denise Crosby. John DeLancie.

They all stand. The entire theatre is now on its feet, applauding their hard work, and commitment to the show. Berman is beaming as he applauds them.

They're all standing up, except for me. Berman looked right at me, and didn't call out my name. The son of a bitch knew that I was there, and didn't call me to stand. Later, I asked him why he'd left me out, and he said he didn't know I was there. I told him that I was the one person, who was sitting with the cast, who wasn't standing up. Maybe he remembered making eye contact with me, after he called Denise, and before he called on John DeLancie? It sucked, it was petty and it hurt.

Another time, I was invited to a big party for the 25th anniversary of Star Trek, also at Paramount. Again, I can't remember if this was before, or after the aforementioned snubbing. Again, they sat us all together, and again, there was a "stand up and be counted" thing. Only this time, it was with all 3 casts. Maybe you've seen the picture? All three casts are on stage, holding these miniature American flags, which were given to them by astronauts who flew them on various space shuttle missions. Again, I was left sitting, surrounded by empty chairs. I was so embarassed, as I sat there, feeling genuinely happy for my friends, from all the casts, who were standing on stage, and at the same time, I felt so tiny, and so lame...afterwards, I told Berman that I thought that was really shitty, and he said he hadn't known that I was coming. Well, the thing is, when you're the executive producer of Star Trek, you approve everything that goes on. Even guest lists.

I recall all this publicly, to maybe give some context to my remarks over the years, and to help you, my dear monkey, appreciate what I will say next: I am filled with regret that I left. Now, I know some asshole out there will say that I feel that way because I didn't work as much after I left, but the truth is, that was by my choice. As soon as I was off the show, I realized that I could do whatever I wanted with my life, and I quit. Ran away to Topeka, joined a computer company, and discovered that I hated myself. I was truly disgusted with the person I looked at in the mirror each day, and getting away from the environemt I had always lived in was the only way to ensure that I changed all that.

You know who I would be if I had never left? Say it with me, my people: WILLIAM FUCKING SHATNER.

So, regrets? I have a few...but then again, I wouldn't be the person I am now, if I'd stuck around, and I like who I've become.

I'm not sure if this post makes sense...but I'm sure I'll find out.

Posted by Wil at 1:28 AM | Permalink

Almost Un-Famous

That's the title of the story that I am mentioned in, in this week's Entertainment Weekly.

I don't subscribe to EW, and I couldn't find a link for this article on the website, so a member of my loyal Radio Free Burrito listener armada scanned it , and emailed it to me.

Take a gander, if'n ya please. But be forewarned. The image is huge. It's about 300K.

Posted by Wil at 7:40 PM | Permalink

Radio Free Burrito Wants You

Hey kids,

I've been RFB-ing most of the day.

I know, I know, I should have posted about it, but I'm still BETA testing it, as far as I am concerned.

So far, the small cadre of BETA testers and I have been having a really fun time, and one of them, our good friend HuggyBarrell, sent me this Email earlier today:

We have a friend from Faire who's a performer. He goes by the name Moonie The Magnificent. He's sorta a comedy juggling act. Anyway, his daughter has children's lukemia (she was in remission, it came back). She's going to require a bone marrow transplant. We've set up a section on our Faire site that's got donations for PayPal. I was wondering if you'd be willing to maybe put a blurb about it in your weblog or something? Since he's a performer, he doesn't have health insurance, is my understanding.

So, now I get to do something that I truly cherish in my life. I get to use what little celebrity I have for Good, instead of Evil. If you can, would you please give a small donation to help this little girl? As a parent, I can imagine the pain, and heartache of watching your little girl suffer with a horrible disease, and feel powerless to stop it.

You can make your donation by clicking here, or you can buy a CD, that was put together by some of Brad's friends. The proceeds are going to help Sophie out. You can check it out here.

Look at it this way: you have an opportunity to save a life, today. How cool is that?

Posted by Wil at 5:56 PM | Permalink

Crackity Jones

Have you seen this yet? I must admit, it made me howl, which caused my neighbor to come over and shoot at me with his bow and arrow.

That's all for right now. Data's on some sort of murderous rampage on TNG...goddammit. I've been seeing all these shows that I've never seen before, because I was so pissed off and lame when I quit...and I must say, I'm beginning to feel a bit of regret, because the shows are very, very cool.

Matter of fact, that gets its own entry later on.

Thank you to everyone who sent me MOJO...I can honestly say that I felt it, and I only felt a *little* dirty...as soon as I find out, I'll tell you all about it.

Is it bothering anyone else that the commercials on TNN are all either Miss Cleo, or some K*Tel collection of shity songs that you thought had gone away?

Posted by Wil at 8:39 AM | Permalink

Isla de Encanta

I opened up my paper this morning, and I see that I am in the Technology section of the Los Angeles Times!!

This was a VERY fun interview to do, and there's a cool picture of me, standing in the middle of Colorado Blvd. in Old Town Pasadena (breakin' the law! Breakin' the law! Yeaaahhh!!!) in the print version.

Check it out.

Posted by Wil at 8:44 AM | Permalink

Tree Huggin' Hippie Crap

I can't go into the details, but I have a HUGE opportunity sitting in front of me, and tomorrow is do-or-die time...if this thing happens, I am back baby! We're talking carreer re-birth, a new computer, and nice things for Mrs. Wheaton.

So here's the deal: if you don't mind, would you take 60 seconds or so, and send some good thoughts my way? I would be especially grateful if you were doing this between 2 and 3 PM Pacific Time tomorrow (Thursday).

If this works, I will have the coolest story, EVER, to post.

Posted by Wil at 10:55 AM | Permalink

Clever Voyving

This was sent to me this morning by Jeff. The original can be found here.

Posted by Wil at 10:43 AM | Permalink

Radio Free Burrito 2: Electric Boogaloo

I got lots of good feedback from people about the radio station, and I think it will become a semi-regular feature around here.

With the help of the lovely and talented (well, talented, anyway) Ben, from The pAved Earth, the greatest internet radio station of all time, I have figured out how to do a live broadcast, right out of my crappy little computer. So I have this idea. How about if I do a radio show sometime this week? I can play music, read some of my weblog entries, make some jokes, take IM requests, etc. I can even make multiple streams, so people on slower connections can enjoy the fun, too. It's been a silly dream of mine since I was a kid to be on the radio, so I think I'm gonna do it, no matter what...it'd just be cooler if there were people actually listening.

Posted by Wil at 11:26 AM | Permalink

TNG on TNN

I bet this sounds totally lame, but I've been watching (and taping) TNG on TNN tonight. Of course, since I am on the Left Coast, I missed the first broadcast, so I missed all the promos I did, so I don't know if I sucked or not. Dammit.

But here's the thing: I forgot just how much I LOVE Star Trek. I've watched "Farpoint", The first one with The Traveller, Datalore and Conspiracy...I have remembered so many stories...I'm excited. I have some cool ones to tell, in the coming weeks.

If anyone has it, would someone please email me avis or mpegs or something, of the promos?

Vega$ ruled. I took lots of pictures, and I will put them all up tomorrow.

I've read all the Emails I got while I was gone. I'll send out replies tomorrow.

Posted by Wil at 10:37 PM | Permalink

Vega$ Baby!

Today I went to the race track with my friend Mykal Burns for a super fun microbrew festival, and some horse racing. Based on my experience last time I went to the track, I chose to stay out of the betting...so the goddamn racetrack couldn't take any of my money, dammit. The way I see it, they have enough already.

Some cool stuff happened while we were there: we got free, uber-cheesy steins, complete with a lame logo, and everything...they are almost as nice as the high quality steins I am offering. /lame ad

Just kidding.

We also heard this great 80s cover band while we were there, called The Spazmatics. They were really cool, and I told them I'd link them, so that's what I am doing, because Uncle Willie keeps his promises. So there.

The feedback on the radio station has been mostly positive, so I think I'll keep it up, at least until the end of Monday, because I have to go back to Vega$ Sunday. The Star Trek Experience wants to talk to me about booking my sketch comedy show in for a run!! How cool is that?!

I'll update again when I get back from Vega$. I'll have pictures.

Be nice to someone today.

Posted by Wil at 11:29 PM | Permalink

Radio Free Burrito

Back when I had the lame page at Geocities, I made a radio station, because one of my dreams has always been to be a DJ. (One of my other dreams, get email from a pornstar, was fulfilled yesterday. Woot.)

I broadcast MP3's right out of my computer, and used Live365 as a relay.

I stopped using it, because nobody was ever listening, and it took up lots of cycles and bandwidth, but I'm going to be out all day, so I'm putting it up for today. If you like it, say so in the comments, and I'll make a permanent one.

You can tune in here.

Hope everyone is having a great weekend.

Posted by Wil at 10:38 AM | Permalink

Store

This is more of an announcement, than a real entry: after much gnashing of teeth and pulling out of hair, I've decided to make a few t-shirts and things, and sell them through CafePress. I'm doing this because people have asked me when I'm going to open the store, and opening the store, is taking an enormous amount of work. It's more work to make a store, than it was to build the whole site. Also, I wanna put my energy into the redesign of the site, and the updating of the blog. So, I made some designs, with the help of my good friend and amazing artist Ben, and put them on T-shirts and junk. If this stuff sells enough, I'll take it as an indication that people are interested in having other stuff, and I'll go ahead and do the full-blown online store.

Posted by Wil at 7:12 PM | Permalink

Enterprise

I just finished watching "Enterprise" with my best friend Darin.

I loved it. I loved it so much, I am actually going to write Berman and Braga a note, and tell them how amazing I thought it was...

The only thing that I really hated was the theme song...I suspect that the guy who composed that is going to be the new holder of the "Most Hated Man In Star Trek" title...if he calls, I'll hand over the badge to him...I know I have it someplace.

The best thing about "Enterprise"?

Two words:

Detox. Gel.

Posted by Wil at 7:06 PM | Permalink

The Return of the Son of SpongeBob Vega$Pants

A long itme ago, in an entry far, far away, I started to tell a story...it was the story of SpongeBob Vega$Pants...So...here we go:

Who lives in a pineapple under the sea?!

SpongeBob Vega$Pants!!

Where was I last time? Ahh, after a terribly long tnagent (That's right, I called it a 'tnagent'. It's part of being average), I ran out of time...let's see where I was before I got sidetracked:

I'd explained (sort of, in a very average, not interesting, you'd-only-read-it-if-I-were-famous way) what a Star Trek convention was. I'll pick up the story as I'm standing backstage, getting ready to go on.

I'm supposed to go on at 5PM, and I'm supposed to talk from 5 to 5:50. I usually talk for 70-90 minutes, so only having 50 minutes is really tough. I'm nervous, because I don't think I have a lot of time to work the audience. I have to go out there, and nail 'em with a funny, so they get on my side.

Well, I've got three things going against me before I even take the stage:

1. I'm the last speaker of the day. So the fans are tired, and a little burned out.

2. I'm following Michael Dorn and Marina Sirtis, who the fans LOVE.

3. I was Wesley Crusher.

So I am pacing backstage, looking at my notes, trying to relax and focus, and getting more and more nervous that I'm going to suck.

See, here's the deal: contrary to what many people think, I care about how I do at a convention. I care about what the fans think of me. Oh, yes, I do. I don't just write off the fans like a certain WILLIAM FUCKING SHATNER, because I, myself, am a fan. I also realize that the entire Star Trek franchise owes an extreme debt of gratitude to fandom, because without that core fanbase, Gene would have never been able to sell the idea of TNG to Paramount, and then there's no DS9, no Voyager, no Enterprise. So it's important to me not to suck.

Finally, at 5:15, Dorn and Marina are done, and I'm going to go on. My mouth and throat get dry. My hands sweat, and shake a little bit. Jesus, you'd think I was going on a date, or something. It's usually not like this...but this time is different, because I've got friends in the audience, and my wife is there, and the last thing I want is to have a whole room hate me in front of them.

Dave Scott takes the stage, and he gives me this great introduction, about how funny I am, and about how much fun they're all going to have...and I'm just thinking, "Great, dude. Please. Build me up more. Keep raising those expectations. Woo."

I hear the intro finish, and I come out on stage...and they're all standing up, applauding, "whoo!"-ing, and stuff...and I think, "Okay, Wil. Start it off with a joke...that's what they're expecting..."

So I tell a joke about the water we've all been drinking. Here's a little background, on the water:

It's hot in Vega$. 10 Circle of Hell hot, which is nothing to me, since that's where I'm headed, anyway, but it's pretty bad for eveyone else. Fortunately, TNN has shown up, and, in a humanitarian and self-promotional effort, they've been handing out bottles of "Altair Water". It's bottled water, you know, but it's in a nifty green bottle, with some Star Trek graphics on it...and they're handing them out by the hundreds, because those spacesuits really make you sweat, if I remember correctly.

So I hold up the bottle of water, and I say, "I've been drinking this 'Altair Water' all morning...and you know what I'm thinking? This isn't really from Altair. It's just regular water! So if you paid for it, I think you got ripped off."

Silence, followed by the first surly heckler, who shouted with the appropriate mix of condescension and contempt: "It's free, Wil!"

Aw, crap. That was so lame. I mean, come on! How "Hello how are you I'm fine" was that?!

But, like I said, I was nervous, and I panicked, and, after I've been on stage for 15 seconds, they allready hate me.

So I take a second, and I regroup, and I say, "Okay...uh, I only have 50 minutes here, and I want to maximize our time together today, so here's the deal: I have some stories that I like to tell, and I'll tell them, but I also like to take questions from the audience, and let you all inform the discussion. Since we only have a short time today, I'll answer the most frequently asked questions first: No, yes, Umbrellas, I can't remember, and they were real."

Silence, and grumbling.

Oh shit. I'm dead. I teach comedy, for christsake! I got rave reviews for my sketch show! I know that I can be funny! But I'm panicked. It happens. The few things I have, that I've told before, that I know get a good response, the things I have for circumstances just like these, have all gone out of my head. I am drawing a complete blank, and I just want to get off this stage as fast as possible, and get back on my road to hell. Oh, wait, I'm in hell right now. Dammit.

So I say, "Uh. Does anyone have any questions?"

Apparently, nobody does, so I say with a smile, "Well then, I guess we're done here! Thanks alot for coming, and have a great rest of the weekend!" And I start to walk off stage.

And they all laugh.

What? that was funny? Okay. I'll take what I can get at this point. So I relax a bit, and we get going. I start to tell my stories, and the questions start to come. Unfortunately, none of the really cool, "In episode 67, you said..." questions are asked, at all. Too bad. Those make for the best stories.

But here's the thing: while my talk goes on, I keep losing the audience. I can feel it. I can feel them hate me, and I can't quite figure out why. But, upon reflection, I can take a guess: I tell it like it is. Unlike lots of other actors, who get up there and kiss the collective ass of fandom, and tell them exactly what they want to hear, I tell them what it was really like, for me. The truth is, sometimes being on Trek was the greatest thing, ever. Other times, it really, really sucked. And, as blasphemous as this sounds, at the end of the day, it was a job.

I realize now, that I left out a very important bit of info when I was at the con, and I've left it out here: I really, really, really like to watch Star Trek. Star Trek is really, really, really fucking cool. I loved the original series, and, even though WILLIAM FUCKING SHATNER has always been a tool towards me, I still think that he was rad as Captain Kirk. I think he's got a GREAT sense of humor, and that has come through in the more recent star trek movies. But I digress. The thing that I left out, is how much of a fan of Star Trek I am, and, without that context, it can piss people off that I don't worship Trek the way some of them do.

So when I say things like, "I really didn't like DS9 or Voyager very much, because the stories really didn't interest me," I'm not saying those things because I want to crack on the other shows, it's just because, as a viewer, I didn't like the stories as much as I liked the ones on TNG or TOS.

So I left that out, and when I'd say anything remotely critical of the show, they'd get pissed. And I'd get more and more tense, and I felt really bad. There are few feelings that are worse for an actor, than dying on stage, in front of your wife, parents, and friends. Oh, and 300 Trekkies.

But, somewhere towards the end, I got going, and I was able to recall some funny stories:

I have the limited edition Star Trek monoploy game. Yeah, limited edition of 65 Million. But it's really valuable, because I got a number under 21 million, and it's got a certificate of authenticity, signed by Captain Picard! Yes, that's right, my Star Trek monopoly, which I've rendered worthless by opening, comes with a certificate of authenticity, signed by a fictional character.

Cool thing about the game, though, is that there is a Wesley Crusher game piece in it, and the first time we sat down to play it as a family, Ryan grabbed it and proclaimed, as only an 11 year old can, "I'm Wil!! I'm Wil!! Nolan!! I'm all-time Wil!! I call it!!" *smile* that was really cool.

One time, when we were renegotiating our contracts, we were all asking for raises, which we all felt we appropriate, because TNG was really taking off, and was really making lots of money for Paramount. Of course, Paramount needed that money to keep churning out their film *cough* hits *cough*, and was reluctant to share it with us. So a long and annoying negotiation process began, and, during that process, the producers first counter offer was to not give me a raise, but they'd give my character a promotion, to Lieutenant.

What? Were they serious?

My agent asked me what I wanted to do. I told him to call them back, and remind them that Star Trek is a television show! Here's me calling the bank: "Hi...Uh, I'm not going to be able to make my house payment this month, but don't worry, because I am a Lieutenant now. Where? Oh, on the Starship Enterprise. Feel free to drop by Ten Forward for lunch someday."

Last year, there was a contest at Star Trek Dot Com, where they were asking what the best episode of all time, across all the series' was. The nominees included "City On The Edge Of Forver" from TOS (One of my faves, but not as cool as "arena", imho. Send your flames here. The entry for TNG was "Best of Both Worlds part 1&2", and I can't remember the titles of the ones for DS9 and Voyager, but the DS9 one was the one with the tribbles, and the episode for Voyager was the one where the alien creature, who looked surprisingly like the alien in "Alien" was wreaking havoc on the ship. Now, as I've pointed out before, it is just a TV show, and I'm not that competitive, but there was no way I was going to let my show lose. It just wasn't going to happen. So I went into my office, sat at my computer, and, for 72 straight hours, I, didn't eat, didn't sleep, and sat, stinky in my own filth, as I voted, over and over, for TNG to win. So, sometime around the 71st hour, my wife realizes that she hasn't seen me in awhile, and starts knocking on the door to see what I'm doing, and I don't want her to know, you know? I mean, how embarrassing for me...I'm sitting here voting in the Star Trek poll! So she stays at the door, and keeps asking what I'm doing at the computer for so long, and, not wanting to embarrassed, I shout out, "I'm downloading porn, honey!"

Finally, through a combination of exhaustion and the fact that my eyes were actually bleeding, I gave up, but not before I had successfully stuffed the ballot box, giving TNG a landslide victory in the all important online poll. Whoo!

Dave Scott ended up coming on stage to get rid of me, and I had a lot of fun walking away from him, pretending that he wasn't there, and stuff, and I closed with a story that always gets a big laugh, that people seem to enjoy. There are others, but if I tell them all here, you'll never come see me at a show, right?

I said thank you, exited, stage left, and walked back into the now infamous WFS Memorial Hallway. I sat there for a second, and replayed the talk in my head. The first 90%, they mostly hated me, I thought, with little fits of laughter, and the last 10%, when I finally got going and found my groove, they really loved me, and I felt really good. But it was not my best talk, by far, which was a big disappointment, considering the build up I'd gotten from Dave, and that I had people in the audience.

But I didn't have time to reflect on it, because I had just 90 minutes before we were all due in the theare for our show, and we still hadn't had a technical rehearsal...

NEXT TIME, AS THE SAGA CONTINUES:

MIND MELD PRESENTS: "ASSIMILATE THIS"

Posted by Wil at 1:44 PM | Permalink

Priorities

Anne just called me, very upset, from her cell phone.

She told me that she and the kids are missing me, because I'm spending so much time online. She said that she's tired of feeling like I'm married to the computer and my website, and that she's been going to sleep alone for the last 2 weeks, and I wake her up at 1AM when I get into bed.

I was all ready to argue with her that I need to spend time here, and that I have a responsibility to my readers and all that...but something stopped me. It was that little voice in the back of your head that sometimes saves you from saying stupid things to cops. The self-preservation voice. My SP voice said to me, "Dude. Listen to your wife. She is telling you that you're neglecting her, and the family. Not cool. Not cool."

Now, here's something about me: I don't do well with ultimatums. More than once in my life I've gone and done something, specifically to spite someone who tried to tell me what to do. Matter of fact, it was a major contributing factor in my desicion to leave Star Trek.

So I did listen to her, and she didn't give me an ultimatum. She said that she was starting to resent the computer, and me, because the family is suffering. I could hear the sadness in her voice, as she told me that it was up to me to figure out how to balance this stuff out.

Thing is, she's right. I didn't realize it, but I'm putting in more than half of my waking hours on this, between reading and replying to emails, reading the comments here, and (recently) at fark, and posting comments of my own. I mean, I am constantly listening for the new mail sound, so I can run over here and reply, and I'm checking the site a few times an hour for new comments and discussion. Anne told me that the kids are bummed that I'm doing so much stuff on the website, and not just hanging out, and that's just not cool.

In my efforts to make myself accessible to people who I've never even met, I have made myself inaccessible to the people who love and need me the most: my family.

Thing is, if my relationship with my wife is not taken care of, and isn't the first priority in my life, everything else seems to fall apart. It's corny and cliche, but Anne is everything to me.

So here's the deal:

I love my wife and I love my step-kids, and, while I feel a sense of responsibility to everyone who comes to visit here, and I really do want to reply to all the emails, and take part in the discussions, I'm going to have to let this take a back seat for a bit, and focus my time, attention, and energy on my family.

The short term result of this will mean a greater lag time in replying to emails (sorry in advance, though you'll still get the autoresponse) and even less AIM time. I will still update the blog, because the Vega$ story really is cool, and I'm having a fun time writing it, but cut me some slack if I don't get right back to you, okay? It's nothing personal. It's just a re-focusing of my priorities.

Posted by Wil at 5:41 PM | Permalink

Call To Action

I don't, and won't do this very often. The purpose of my weblog is to tell my stories, and let you know what I'm thinking about. I get on my soapbox, to be sure, but not like this, and not very often. But these are dangerous times that we're living in, and this is very serious.

The summary is: John Ashcroft is trying to force through laws that run completely counter to the Constitution and Bill of Rights, and he is doing it right now because we're all scared of terrorism.

But the terrorist threat will be taken care of someday, and these laws will still be around, for the gleeful abuse of anyone who wants to silence you.

I listened to Congress "question" Ashcroft today. I put "question" in quotes, because, as a member of the SAG Board Of Directors, and through serving on lots of committees there, I have learned to discern the difference between posturing and speechmaking, and actual questioning to help inform debate, and help someone decide how to vote.

What I heard today, on NPR, was posturing and speechmaking from the committee, not real questioning, because everyone knew what would happen: no one dares oppose this sweeping legislation that Ashcroft, Bush, and Company are asking for, lest they appear "soft on terrorism". We have seen the amazing success of a congress who refuses to be "soft on drugs", right? I mean, they've done a great job, right? There's no drug problem anymore, right? Our prisons aren't full of first time, non-violent offenders, right? Yay. Go Congress!!

The Electronic Frontier Foundation posted the following background today. I quote it here:

Attorney General John Ashcroft distributed the proposed Anti-Terrorism Act/Mobilization Against Terrorism Act to members of Congress after Monday's press conference at which he indicated that, among other measures, he would ask Congress to expand the ability of law enforcement officers to perform wiretaps in response to the terrorist attacks on the United States on September 11, 2001. Ashcroft asked Congress to pass anti-terrorism legislation including "expanded electronic surveillance" by the end of this week. The PSCSEA bill appears to be a "backup plan" for S.A. 1562; if it does not pass as part of H.R. 2500, it can be reintroduced separately in slightly different form as a new bill. Sen. Patrick Leahy is also expected to introduce a more moderate proposal sometime early next week.

One particularly egregious section of the DOJ's analysis of its proposed legislation (ATA/MATA) says that "United States prosecutors may use against American citizens information collected by a foreign government even if the collection would have violated the Fourth Amendment."

"Operating from abroad, foreign governments will do the dirty work of spying on the communications of Americans worldwide. US protections against unreasonable search and seizure won't matter," commented EFF Senior Staff Attorney Lee Tien.

Additional provisions of the proposed Anti-Terrorism Act (ATA)/Mobilization Against Terrorism Act (MATA) (whatever the final name will be) include measures which:

make it possible to obtain e-mail message header information and Internet user web browsing patterns without a wiretap order;

eviscerate controls on roving wiretaps;

permit law enforcement to disclose information obtained through wiretaps to any employee of the Executive branch;

reduce restrictions on domestic investigations under the Foreign Intelligence Surveillance Act (FISA);

permit grand juries to provide information to the US intelligence community;

permit the President to designate any "foreign-directed individual, group, or entity," including any United States citizen or organization, as a target for FISA surveillance;

prevent people from even talking about terrorist acts;

establish a DNA database for every person convicted of any felony or certain sex offenses, almost all of which are entirely unrelated to terrorism;

EFF Executive Director Shari Steele emphasized, "While it is obviously of vital national importance to respond effectively to terrorism, this bill recalls the McCarthy era in the power it would give the government to scrutinize the private lives of American citizens."

During the Congressional session considering the Combating Terrorism Act, which was introduced as amendment S.A. 1562 to an omnibus appropriations bill, H.R. 2500, Senator Patrick Leahy (D-VT) expressed concern that he was asked to vote so rapidly on such important legislation within minutes of receiving it and without conducting hearings in the Intelligence, Armed Services and Judiciary committees:

Maybe the Senate wants to just go ahead and adopt new abilities to wiretap our citizens. Maybe they want to adopt new abilities to go into people's computers. Maybe that will make us feel safer. Maybe. And maybe what the terrorists have done made us a little bit less safe. Maybe they have increased Big Brother in this country.

If that is what the Senate wants, we can vote for it. But do we really show respect to the American people by slapping something together, something that nobody on the floor can explain, and say we are changing the duties of the Attorney General, the Director of the CIA, the U.S. attorneys, we are going to change your rights as Americans, your rights to privacy? We are going to do it with no hearings, no debate. We are going to do it with numbers on a page that nobody can understand.

EFF shares Senator Leahy's concerns in this time of national crisis. EFF Legal Director Cindy Cohn commented, "These proposals significantly impact the civil liberties of Americans. We urge legislators to please slow down and consider the long-term consequences of your votes."

"I believe that deep in their souls, Americans understand that the reason this country is so great--is so worth defending--is because it is free," explained EFF Executive Director Shari Steele. "We should be very careful to make sure that any legislation that passes is truly needed to address national security concerns."

During World War I, the US Congress hastily passed the Espionage Act which was notorious for decreasing freedoms without improving the security of the American public, under which Congress granted the Postmaster General (who delegated it to 55,000 local postmasters) the authority to read any mail and remove any material that might "embarrass" the government in conducting the war effort.

So here's the call to action: Gohere, and write, call, fax, and email your congressperson, and let them know that this scares the shit out of you. EFF has sample letters, and a very easy form to use to email your government officials.

Ashcroft is seeking to broaden the definition of "terrorist" to include ludicrous things, that defy common sense. I quote something I posted at Fark today:

If I remember my American History correctly, the founding fathers that Bush & Co. are so gleeful to invoke when it serves their message founded the USA the way they did, because they felt that governments had a tendency to oppress their citizens.

Keeping our critical thinking pants on, and taking off our emotional, angry, freaked-out-because-of-september-11th-pants, let's think about this: things like a national ID card, backdoors for crypto, and expansion of search-and-siezure abilities for law enforcement have been things The Man has been trying vigorously to get over the last few years. Historically, government has taken advantage of times like these to expand their powers...and I don't like that.

Does it bother anyone else that we have an "Office of Homeland Security"? Sure, it's a good idea now, but I see the ghost of McCarthy looming just over the horizon.

Anyone who is not terrified by this cynical powergrab either doesn't understand the issues, is living in a dreamworld, or is George W. Bush.

Please, please, please, if you never do anything else I ask you, please, I implore you, don't sit on this. Our American way of life is in grave, grave danger.

Posted by Wil at 9:30 PM | Permalink

Tnagent

This started out as "The Return of the Son of SpongeBob Vega$Pants", but it devolved into a long tangent, and now I have to leave. So read on, and expect a REAL addition to the story later today.

When we left our hero, he had just signed a bunch of autographs, and was grabbing a much-needed nap.

Now, before we roll the tape again, there's something that happened to me while I was signing autographs that was really funny, and I forgot to mention it before.

I was wearing this T-shirt that I really like, made by a very cool, subversive company. It's a black T-shirt, with a picture of a hand making rock-and-roll devil horns, and it says, "Keep music evil".

About 200 or so people into the day, this woman comes up to me, to get her collectible plate signed, in gold, because John DeLancie signed his in silver, so now silver is the color reserved for "Q".

She sees my shirt, and she becomes hysterical. She is pointing, at my shirt, and she screeches at me, "You are going to hay-ell! You are going to hay-ell!"

"Why am I going to Hell, ma'am?" I asked back, trying to figure out if she was joking.

"You're wearing that shirt! And that shirt promotes SATAN!"

Okay, she's definately not joking.

"So I'm going to Hell, because I'm wearing a shirt? Is that right?"

"Yes! You! Are! Going! To! HAY-ELL!"

"Well, as long as I'm not going where you are, ma'am."

And she leaves, but not without her plate...

So, I've got that going for me, which is nice.

Okay, back to our story...

So I took a nap. One of those naps that lasts only 30 minutes, but feels like a whole night's sleep.

I woke up, ate, showered, changed, packed my bags with costumes and props, and headed back to the con for the talk, and my show.

For those of you who don't know what Star Trek conventions are, I'll make a feeble attempt at an explaination. Conventions (or "cons", as the cool kids call them) are part trade show, part collectible show, part geek-fest, part love-in. Well, not the love-in part, but it's prolly better that way.

Promoters hire actors, writers, producers, etc., from the show to come to a hotel conference center, and give a talk and sign autographs for the fans. There are also people who sell collectibles and bootlegs and stuff, and they usually run episodes of the show on a big screen. Think Rocky Horror Picture Show, but slightly less cool.

Going to conventions used to be lots of fun, because we could get onstage and talk about what was coming up this season, dish dirt about each other, and let the fans see us as we really were, not just as our characters.

But since I stopped making the show, going to cons started feeling lame. I felt like I was resting on my laurels, and, quite honestly, I felt like a tool being there, especially since there were 2 other shows on (DS9 and Voyager)--

Oh! Tangent!

This guy comes up to me one day, and he is *SO* out there. For those of you who know what this means, you'll get the image, perfectly: He was a Gamer.

So this guy corners me, and starts his conversation by saying, "I'm not that big a Trekker, but..."

Okay, here's the deal. "Trekker" is a term devised by fans who don't like being associated with the "wierd" ones, whom they refer to as "Trekkies". So when a guy who looks like a Gamer tells me that he's a "Trekker", it sends off a few warning flags. Methinks the Trekkie doth protest too much, you see.

He must have sensed my unease, because he went on, "I mean, I really like the show, but I've never been to a convention. Conventions are for wierdos. I own all the episodes on video, and I can quote most of them, but I've never been to a convention. Conventions are for wierdos. Sure, I have lots of the technical manuals, and I've read them a few times, and I wrote Mike Okuda about some inconsistencies between the movies and the series, but I've never been to a convention. Conventions are for wierdos. And I just want you to know that I always liked Next Generation the best, I mean, I watched all the episodes of DS9, but I only watched about half the episodes of 'V'ger'"...Yes, he called "Voyager" "V'ger", in a throwback to Star Trek: The Motion Picture...anyway, he finishes up his disclaimers, and begins asking me all these questions about Star Trek, like, trivia and shit, and when I don't know the answer, he snorts, he snorts! and tells me what the answer is. Now, keep in mind that I am simply not allowed to say, "Dude. You are the Freakest Link. Goodbye," and walk away. I have to stand there, and take it like a man...which I do.

/tangent

So I didn't want to do cons, because it made me feel like a loser, standing there, talking about what I did so many years ago...then I saw "Galaxy Quest".

I *loved* "Galaxy Quest". I thought it was brilliant satire, not only of Trek, but of fandom in general. The only thing I wish they had done was cast me in it, and have me play a freaky fanboy who keeps screaming at the actor who played "the kid" about how awful it was that there was a kid on the spaceship. Alas.

When I saw "Galaxy Quest", I remembered how much fun I used to have at conventions, and I missed it. I missed the interaction with the fans. I missed the chance to tell stories about my life on TNG...but mostly, I missed the sex. The hot, Klingon-forehead-wearing fansex.

WHAT?! Just kidding. I just wanted to see if you were skimming or not.

Okay, serious: I missed it. I thought it would be fun to do one again, and I did, and it was, and Dave Scott, the promoter, asked me to come participate in the Vega$ show.

Something about the market for conventions: It's really changed over the years, especially for the guys from the original Star Trek, and TNG. There just aren't that many stories to tell that the fans haven't heard, and it's not like they can get up on stage and talk about what's coming up next week, you know? And most of the people who want to collect autographs and pictures have already gotten stuff from all the people they like. Add that to a few evil, shitty, dishonest promoters who've come and gone over the years, and the result is: most people are over conventions. So a few actors and promoters got this really nifty idea. This wonderful, awful, Grinchy idea...they needed to add something to the convention experience, to make it worthwhile for the fan to come to the show, and they [the promoters] needed to make sure that they would continue to earn money, so the whole thing was worthwhile for them, too. So the idea, which I hear was hatched by John DeLancie, was to sell an extra ticket for a dinner event, and invite the actors to come to that event, and, when the fans are done with dinner, perform for them.

This is the coolest thing, ever, I think. From the fan's perspective, it is a chance to see an actor they love, in the flesh, performing for them. Lots of actors wrote their own plays about their characters, and they perform them at these cons. I mean, if you're a Trekkie, how cool is it to see Nimoy and DeLancie perform "Spock meets Q"? I'm not a huge fanboy, and it was exciting to *me*, so you can imagine.

Now, from the actor's perspective, this is a great thing. We love acting. We love performing. Is there anything better than having an audience, who, by all accounts, wants to like you, come and see you perform? It's great!

So, to make this longer without telling you anything new about Vega$, Dave Scott asked me if I'd be willing to do something for one of these cabarets. I thought it would be rad, but I didn't know what I'd do...see, I really wasn't interested in writing some sort of "Where's Wesley Now?" play, and performing that. That would have just been lame. But, there's this other thing I do...this sketch comedy thing...

As most of you know, I am a writing and performing member of the ACME comedy theatre in Hollywood. We're a great company, and we have some VERY funny people in the group, so I approached them about doing a sci-fi oriented comedy show for some sci-fi fans. The ones who didn't run away came with me to Vega$.

We named the group "Mind Meld" and we called the show "Assimilate This!"

...wow. I've really just gone in a big circle here. I've been writing for an hour, and I haven't gotten close to telling the stories I want to tell. And now I have to leave for an interview (With the Los Angeles Times, thank you very much!).

So I guess The saga of SpongeBob Vega$Pants will have to continue this afternoon.

Posted by Wil at 10:46 AM | Permalink

Nothing New

I am wildly, passionately, madly, head-over-heels in love with my wife.

Who has been much funnier than I have, the last week or so.

If you read this, baby, I love you, I love the boys, and I love that I am your husband.

:)

Posted by Wil at 9:50 PM | Permalink

Fark me.

I really want to add a new entry in the ever-expanding saga of SpongeBob Vega$Pants, and his adventures across the 9th dimension.

Really, I do.

But the thing is, the story is filled with lots of very funny things that happened, and I'm not feeling very funny the last couple of days.

I'm feeling really sad. I'm feeling really scared, and I've been feeling really depressed.

Thing is, I can't get those firefighters out of my head. I can't stop thinking about the people who were on cell phones with their loved ones when the towers came crashing down. I am haunted by the images of people holding hands as they jumped out of the World Trade Centers.

I get angy, and I think, "I hope they find the people who are responsible for this, and I hope they bring back some of those torture methods from the middle ages...I want to be able to watch ravens pick at the bodies of the terrorist leaders, while they die slowly, and painfully."

Then I think, "I have a 12 year old step-son. If Bush & Co. get us into this multi-year conflict, he could be sent off to Afghanistan to fight in our next Vietnam."

Truth is, I don't know how to feel. But I'm getting tired of this "If you're not with us, you're against us! My country, right or wrong," attitude that pervades every place I go.

Fark linked to my WFS story, and someone pointed out my Noam Chomsky entry. And now they're saying things like:

09-22-01 02:25:33 PM Reave

I am more interested in his previous article ( http://www.wilwheaton.net/greymatter/archives/00000051/*.php )

He is suggesting that basically the US shouldn't retaliate and just let whoever - bomb the US into oblivion while we try to make peace. Peace is not a bad thing, but I think you need to defend yourselves.

Posted by Wil at 1:47 PM | Permalink

Camelot

This was sent to me this morning, by Matt.

You must have good bandwidth and Realplayer, or Windows Media player.

Holy Grail: LEGO style.

I'm meeting my wife for breakfast. There's a good chance there may be another chapter in the saga of SpongeBobVega$Pants today....

Posted by Wil at 10:23 AM | Permalink

Change that diaper, Mr. Cooksey.

From The Baton Rouge Advocate: U.S. Rep. John Cooksey, R-Monroe, told a network of Louisiana radio stations Monday that someone 'wearing a diaper on his head' should expect to be interrogated in the investigation of terrorist attacks on the Pentagon and New York City.

Here's the full quote: "If I see someone (who) comes in that's got a diaper on his head and a fan belt wrapped around the diaper on his head, that guy needs to be pulled over."

A diaper? Did I read that correctly? Let me look again.

Holy crap. A United States Representative actually said that.

Time to unwrap the poison pen.

I fired off this letter to the un-distinguished gentleman:

Rep. John Cooksey

113 Cannon House Office Building

Washington, D.C.

20515

20 September 2001

Dear Rep. Cooksey,

I read your remarks regarding racial profiling today in The Baton Rouge Advocate:

"If I see someone (who) comes in that's got a diaper on his head and a fan belt wrapped around the diaper on his head, that guy needs to be pulled over."

These remarks are not the remarks of someone who is worthy of a position in our government. Your remarks, sir, are ignorant, disgusting, and racist. I expect much more from a member of congress.

We Americans turn to you, our elected leaders, to provide leadership and guidance, especially during times such as these, when our democracy is threatened, and our population is frightened and confused.

A great leader once said, “A house divided against itself can not stand.” The terrorists who currently threaten us are counting on remarks such as yours, which will divide this country, and cause us to turn against ourselves.

I suggest that you take some time to read about the mass internment of Japanese Americans during the aftermath of the attack on Pearl Harbor, as those who are not familiar with history are condemned to repeat it.

Sincerely,

Wil Wheaton

I doubt that he'll be taking any time off to respond to me, considering that I live out of his district...but I bet you I *will* get a fundraising letter back.

Posted by Wil at 1:16 PM | Permalink

Kettle, Meet Pot. Pot, Meet Kettle.

I was just reading the comments from the Vega$ trip, and laughing along...I think I have some very cool readers, and I feel like there's some supercool community happening here...I like that.

In there, I found this link to some pictures from the Vega$ show...so I followed it, in the hopes of snarfing some of them for my photo album. See, the light in the ballroom wasn't exactly conducive to great pictures, and the one I have of me...well..it's just...yeah.

So I went there, looked at the pictures, and read the comments.

And I am so fucking enraged, and indignant, and incredulous, that I posted a comment myself, but, even after walking Ferris (who is female, BTW), so I could calm down, I am still all hopped up, and I'm giving it it's own entry, so everyone can see it.

I'm multi-faceted. You've seen my funny facet, you've seen my political facet. You've seen my romantic facet. Now, cast your gaze upon my indignant, outraged facet...if you dare!

In regards to the comments at TrekkBBS:

WTF is wrong with those people?! I mean, don't they get it? People like those, who criticize Jennifer and Ethan, and call Garrett by his own name, and then by his character's name, in the same sentence...("Garret, what's...blah blah...I mean, Harry can grow up...blah blah...")

Dude, people, GET A FUCKING LIFE!!

It's nimrods like you, who sit behind your computers munching fritos and wrestling with the great dilemma: "Watch Xena, tape Farscape? Watch Farscape, tape Xena?! What to do?! Help me, Q! Someone! Help me!" People like you who make us not want to go near a convention, EVER!! So fucking what if Ethan was wearing shorts. It was over 100 degrees in Vega$!! Would you rather he wear a fucking spacesuit?! Listen up, assmonkeys: It is people like you who give all star trek fans a bad name. It is because of people like you that normal people are afraid to admit that they like the show, and have to apologize for watching it.

Who the fuck are you to criticize us? Huh? Put the pizza down, and step away from the star trek monoply, folks.

*pant*

*pant*

*faint*

Posted by Wil at 2:21 PM | Permalink

Return of SpongeBob Vega$pants

When we last left our hero, he had survived a horrible snubbing by toupeed Priceline.com pitchman and former stock-holding billionaire WILLIAM FUCKING SHATNER, only to be verbally attacked by a disgruntled Star Trek fan.

Let's go to the tape...

THIS IS THE MOST FAN UNFRIENDLY CONVENTION I HAVE EVER BEEN TO!"

And she storms away.

What the fuck?

Well, at least it can only get better, right?

Right, it can, and it does. Lots of people come by, people of varying ages, nationalities, sanity, and levels of costumery. I sign pictures of the young, geeky Wesley Crusher. I sign posters of the Teen Heart-throb that I'm told I once was. I sign posters that I'm not even on, in silver because everyone else did, accepting the apologies from the poster owners that I'm not on the poster. I always answer with the same joke: "That's okay, you just can't see me, because I'm on this planet here..." sign, sign. They laugh, and feel good, and I repeat the same ritual for the next 3 hours, for close to a thousand people. In all of this, there is really only one person who just freaks me out, and it only lasts for a few minutes, and I let security know, and we're all okay again.

You know the cool thing? There are these fans who came over from Germany, and some of them are girls, and they are HOT. And they tell me, in broken English, how much they love me. Oh yeah, tell me some more baby. Tell daddy how you love him.

What?

I am so sorry. I have no idea where that came from. I apologize.

Speaking of broken English, there are 20 Japanese kids, all together, who've come over from Tokyo for the show. And they are, each and every one of them, totally cool. They are so excited, and having such a great time. The girls ask me if I'd please sign their names on it, and I do, and they giggle, and bow, and blush, and thank me, over and over. For a second, I feel like a rockstar. Then I look up, and the face that's looking back at me is this guy who's like 40, and he's wearing a spacesuit that's a little too small, and he's made up like one of those blue guys with antennae from the original Star Trek. Andorians, I think they're called. And I am rocked back from my "Almost Famous" fantasy, back into "Galaxy Quest" (at least it's not "Trekkies", right?)

Oh, this was so damn cool. One of the Japanese kids was a boy, about my height, and he comes up to me and says that his friends tell him that he looks exactly like me. That they tell him that I am his twin.

Last time I checked, I wasn't Japanese, but I'm not about to dump on this guy, so I look at him, and I say, "Dude. You are so right. It's like I'm looking in a mirror!" He turns to his friends, says something in Japanese, and they all share and excited murmur. I felt like I made the guy's morning, which was cool. He asked me to sign his Wesley Crusher action figure, which I do, with the following inscription: "To Tamako,[I think that was his name] my long lost twin brother: Don't Panic! -Wil Wheaton"

That was really cool.

Tangent: It's wierd being a "celebrity". People tend to give celebrities more attention than normal people. They seem to think that if you're on TV, or play a sport, your opinion is somehow more valid than the guy sitting next to you...I've never subscribed to this ideal, because I've met tons of celebrities in my life, and most of them are really, really, REALLY, lame, and not very smart. Especially the athletes.

Well, one of the cool things about celebrity that I can touch people's lives, in some ways. I mean, there are people who are so into TV or whatever, that just by meeting me, or one of the other Trek people, they get super excited. That's why I think it's so important that we're not dicks to them. Don't get me wrong, if you're scary, and freaky and wierd, I'm gonna get rid of you as fast as I can. I don't care how many tribbles you have...but sometimes, I get to meet someone, like the guy who said I was his twin, and just by being cool, I can make him really, really happy. I really like that.

I have always said that if I take 30 seconds to sign a picture or a napkin or something, and it makes someone really happy, I am the biggest asshole on earth, I mean, WILLIAM FUCKING SHATNER big, if I don't do it.

So let this tangent be a notice to all you future superstars out there: Whether you asked for it or not, once you're a celebrity, you *are* a role model, because people pay attention to you. So don't be a dick. And sign autographs with a smile, and make people feel good for coming up to you, because, believe it or not, they were scared to do it, and you've got a chance to leave them feeling good, or feeling like shit. Pop quiz, asshole:some nervous guy comes up to you, and asks you if you'll sign his book. What do you do? What do you do?!

/tangent

So the signing goes on.

And on.

And on.

And It gets closer and closer to 1:30, when I am supposed to leave, so I can rehearse with my group for our show, but there are still something like 150 people who still haven't gotten their autographs. And I know, that as you get towards the end of the line, your signature degrades. Your humor slows down. You feel tired and worn out, and you just don't have what the fans deserve. I know it, and it sucks, and I work VERY hard to treat the last 150 the same as the first 150, but sometimes, you're just not physically able.

So I made a choice: I decided to leave, and get those 150 people the next day. I was going to be there all weekend, and stuff, and I figured that if I signed those people's stuff tomorrow, they would get a refreshed, funny, cool me, rather than the top of my head (which, I understand the gay community has wanted for years. Sorry guys.).

But there was a risk: I mean, most of these people want to hate me. Don't forget that. They've spent the last 14 years building me up to be this awful thing, and they reallly need me to validate that for them, by being a dick, or vapid, or whatever. I was nervous that this leaving would give them exactly what they were looking for.

So I stood up, and made an announcement:

"Guys! I was told I'd be done by 1PM."

The grumbling begins.

"It's now 1:30, and I'm supposed to be rehearsing with my sketch group right now."

The grumbling gets louder, their sense of entitlement now roused.

"But I'll be here all weekend, and I'll sign whatever you want tomorrow. If I don't go now, the show will suck."

And an amazing thing happens. They all let me go, with good humor. They weren't sad at all. They were actually singing. They sang without posters! They sang without pictures! They sang without autographs, blasters and fixtures!

So I left, and got back to the hotel.

And because I was late, the group had gone and done other things, like gambling, without me.

So I took a nap. One of those naps that lasts only 30 minutes, but feels like a whole night's sleep.

I woke up, ate, showered, changed, packed my bags with costumes and props, and headed back to the con for the show.

=NEXT=

THE TALK

THE SHOW

RANDOM TANGENTS!

CHILLS!

THRILLS!

And, of course, Andy Rooney.

Posted by Wil at 10:36 PM | Permalink

King of the world

This is so cool.

I was very moved by the post from Salon that I, uh, borrowed.

So I emailed the author, and told him:

To: [email protected]

Subject: Flag

Mr. King,

Thank you for giving words to the feelings I have inside.

I was so moved by your writing, I copied it, and posted it at my own site.

Hope that's okay. I included links to the original, and a mailto: link to you.

You've moved a lot of people. If you want to read their comments, they are here: http://www.wilwheaton.net/greymatter/archives/00000054/*.php#comments

Sincerely and admiringly,

Wil Wheaton

*

WIL WHEATON DOT NET

50,000 monkeys at 50,000

typewriters can't be wrong.

http://www.wilwheaton.net

*

See, I would have just included the link to Salon, but I think that people are more likely to read something that's right in front of them, rather than click a link, and I really wanted all of you to see this.

Here's the cool thing: King wrote back:

To: Wil <[email protected]>

Subject: Re: Flag

Wil,

Thanks. As you note on your site, our lawyers (actually, our person in

charge of rights and syndication -- we can't really afford lawyers these

days) frown on this sort of thing, but I found your Web site so charming

and fun that I won't tell them if you won't.

Cheers.

king

Isn't that cool?!

So here's the deal. Don't tell anyone, okay?

Posted by Wil at 2:59 PM | Permalink

Rally round the flag?

I read this at Salon tonight. Read it quick, before some lawyer comes here and makes me take it down.

Rally round the flag?

I love Old Glory. I just wonder if I can take it back from the creeps who've waved it all my life.

- - - - - - - - - - - -

By King Kaufman

Sept. 18, 2001 | I'm wrestling with the American flag.

It's everywhere now: tiny ones riffling on car antennas, medium ones waving from porches, giant ones yawning from cranes. People are wearing them. Every Old Navy flag shirt ever bought has been pulled out of the drawer this week, and Stars and Stripes 'do rags are all the rage.

There's no flag flying on my porch. I don't have a flag, and they're hard to come by these days anyway -- not that I've tried to get one. And if I had one, I can't figure out if I'd fly it or not.

See, Old Glory and I, we go way back, and we've had our problems.

For most of my life, the American flag has been the cultural property of people I can't stand: right-wingers, jingoists, know-nothing zealots. It's something that hypocritical politicians wrap themselves in. It's something that certain legislators would make it a crime to burn -- a position that's an assault on the very freedom that the flag represents. It's something brandished at times like these by idiots who say things like, "Let's go over there and burn those rag-heads!"

During the Gulf War, I hated the American flag. It was everywhere then, too, on porches and car antennas and over the left breast of every uniformed athlete, all in support of a war I and many others thought to be immoral.

But I also love the flag. Seeing it stirs something in me, even when I'm mad at it, or disagree with those who wave it. I am, after all, an American, and despite being opposed to every single military adventure this nation has undertaken in my lifetime, I'm a patriotic one at that.

For me, though, patriotism is more about the freedom to criticize the government than it is about waving a piece of red, white and blue laundry around and singing "God Bless America." It's about loving our shared national personality -- aggressive, impulsive and open, unimpressed with such Old World nonsense as royalty. It's about feeling at home in a country where the first question asked of new acquaintances is not "Where are you from?" but "What do you do?"; where a loutish baseball star can sit next to a president and say, "Hot as hell, ain't it Prez?" and be loved all the more for it. It's about loving this country's crazy cultural stew -- that "melting pot" that we give ourselves more credit for than we should, but that really does exist.

For me, statements like "America right or wrong" or "America: Love it or leave it," a chestnut from my childhood, are the antithesis of what this country is all about. And those are the sentiments that the flag has come, over many years, to represent for me.

So you'll be surprised to hear that I have an American flag shirt, and maybe surprised to hear that I sometimes wear it -- without irony! -- on occasions such as the Fourth of July. First of all, it's a hell of a shirt since, after all, it's a Grand Old Flag. But I also like what it says. It says I'm an American. Not for me the pretentious Europhile weenieness that sometimes plagues my fellow middle-class American white boys. I'm a proud son of the country that's produced Bart Simpson and Ambrose Bierce, Robert Johnson and Abe Lincoln, Michael Jordan and Doc Holliday. Bruce Springsteen said something in his "Born in the U.S.A." days that stayed with me: "That's my flag too." How did the Republicans and the gun nuts and the xenophobes co-opt it?

There are two kinds of patriots: The "God Bless America" kind and the "This Land Is Your Land" kind. I'm the latter.

On the surface, the songs sound similar: simple melodies with lyrics about America's natural beauty, the mountains and deserts and "oceans white with foam" in one; the Redwood forests, Gulf Stream waters and "sparkling sands of her diamond deserts" in the other.

But that's only because we don't sing all the verses that Woody Guthrie wrote in his song, an answer to "God Bless America," which he hated for its sentimentality and dumb, blind devotion. Here's one of the verses school kids don't sing: "As I was walking, I saw a sign there/And that sign said 'No trespassing'/But on the other side, it didn't say nothing/Now that side was made for you and me." Another verse has "my people" at the relief office, "wondering if this land was made for you and me."

That song's political and social criticism, its questioning, are also part of what make this country great. These things, as much as our culture, our national personality, our country's physical magnificence, are what the flag represents to me.

But when I see that flag flying from a neighbor's porch, I think, "Oh boy, right-wing nut." And I'm not hearing people singing "This Land Is Your Land" over the last week, though "God Bless America" is everywhere.

While I'm not quite a pacifist, I have a pretty simple, even simplistic view of war: You don't fight unless you've been attacked. So now that this country has been attacked, I agree with the vast majority that some sort of military response is warranted. This is a new feeling for me, this feeling that we're the good guys and we're fighting the bad guys. It makes sense that I'd want to fly the good guys' flag, but that flag comes wrapped around a lot of baggage.

There's the bell. The wrestling match continues.

salon.com

- - - - - - - - - - - -

About the writer

King Kaufman is a senior writer for Salon.

Posted by Wil at 2:25 AM | Permalink

Son of SpongeBob Vega$Pants

When we last left our heroes, they were in a hotel room, on little sleep, somewhere in Las Vega$...

"Mrphhzzzzgggggthphbbt," was all I could muster.

There was silence on the phone.

"Wil?"

There's this voice in our heads. That voice that tells you it's not a good idea to kick that guy, or that you probably should think twice before you take all that shrimp from the Buffet...it's the self-preservation voice...you know it. My self-preservation voice, and my stay-in-bed voice are currently having this conversation:

"Dude. Mumble again, and go back to sleep. It'll be okay."

"What?! You have a commitment to these people! Get up!"

"Gettin' up is for pussies!"

"If you don't get up, everyone will hate you."

"They hate you already! Stay in bed! Hey! Youurreee wiiffeessss innnn bedddd...."

Somehow, I got up. I told them that I'd take a cab, so they didn't have to worry about that, and I'd see them about 9:45.

Anne gets up, and orders some room service (Which is *always* over priced, so I'm not even going to complain about it) while I take a shower.

So:

Shower.

Coffee.

Eat.

Coffee.

Kiss.

Walk through casino.

Cab.

Convention.

I get to the hotel where they're doing the show at about 9:55. I'm supposed to start at 10, so I can imagine that they're freaking out a bit.

I'm right. I wander all over the hotel, giving all of the appropriate Vulcan and Klingon salutes, until I finally find someone from the con, who tells me where to go. Then she shows me where I'm supposed to be.

The autograph thing works like this: some people paid quite a bit of money to get these "golden ticket"-style things, where they'd get the best seats, access to all the extra shows, and they'd get an "in-person" autograph.

Tangent about autographs: I don't get autographs. I don't understand the appeal of having someone's signature on a photo. It's just not something I'm into. But here's what I do get: having someone sign something for you means that you get that person's attention for 30 seconds, and you can tell them how much you like them, or how much you didn't like them, or whatever. The autograph is secondary. It's that contact that's important. At least that's what I guess about these people, because they paid a lot of money to get their autographs "in-person".

So the way this works is it's like an assembly line kinda thing. You come into this long hallway, and there is Michael Dorn, sitting at a table. You give him your ticket and picture (or phaser, or whatever) and he signs it. You go to the next table, and there is Marina Sirits. Ticket. Autograph. Repeat.

Contrary to popular belief, sitting at a table, signing thousands of autographs is really hard. Because it's not just scrawling my name. It's stopping and listening to the always excited, sometimes shaking, sweating, scary dude wants to know exactly why I did X on episode Y, and would I please sign his picture in gold, because Marina signed it in silver, and now he wants the men in silver and the women in gold, oh, and I hated your character, and here are 25 reasons why, and I expect an answer for each one of them.

Now, personally, I think this approach, while the only one that really works, has the potential to really suck for the fans. Sure, if you're in the first 100 or so we see, that's fine. But towards the end, we start to get tired. Our arms and backs get sore. We begin to lose our voices, and we're ready to go home. But I do my best. I stay focused, and I remind myself that these fans waited a LONG time, so they are the ones that I need to give the most attention to, when I am the most drained.

End tangent.

So I get to the hallway where we're set up for autographs, and, as I am walking up the hallway, I see Dorn, Marina, Renee, Kate Mulgrew, and WILLIAM FUCKING SHATNER. Shatner has always been a dick to me, but I want to say hi, so I approach them, and I say, "Hi! How you guys doin?"

Everyone returns my greeting, even Kate, who I don't know, at all. Never even been introduced. Everyone, that is, except WILLIAM FUCKING SHATNER! Old toupee-head won't even look at me! I don't know what this guy's problem is, really. I think he's very funny, I think he's got a great sense of humor about himself, but he is always a dick to me. So all I can do is just smile, shrug it off, and get set up at my table. On my way there, I hear Kate say, "Could we get some coffee?" The person who is working for the con says, "Sure. There's a coffe cart in the lobby." WILLIAM FUCKING SHATNER says, "Uh, no. What we need is not just coffee. We need a Starbuck's run." Cool, dude. Like this convention staffer isn't over-worked enough. Good thing there's a Starbuck's every 100 feet.

Okay, so I'm at my table, and they send in the flood of fans. I've got my game-face on. My pen hand is strong, and I'm ready to be witty, charming, friendly, and make these guys feel like the autograph I'm currently signing is the only one I've signed all day.

Here comes the first fan. Okay, she's not wearing a spacesuit...that's a good sign. She has a witty Sci-Fi T-shirt on. Also a good sign. She's about 20 feet away, and I can't smell her. A VERY good sign.

Here she comes.

"Hi! How you doing today?!" I say.

"AWFUL! THIS IS THE WORST CONVENTION I HAVE EVER BEEN TO! I HATE DAVE SCOTT! I HATE LAS VEGAS! I HATE THIS CONVENTION!"

"Uhh..I think...that...this convention...just started...and...uhh..I'm sure that if you talk to Dave Scott, everyt--"

"DAVE SCOTT IS AN ARROGANT ASSHOLE!"

"Uh...yeah...well, you see, the thing is, I'm sort of not really involved in the planning of this convention, you know? I'm just, like, a guest...maybe you could--"

"THIS IS THE MOST FAN UNFRIENDLY CONVENTION I HAVE EVER BEEN TO!"

And she storms away.

What the fuck?

Well, at least it can only get better, right?

=Next=

MORE AUTOGRAPHS!

ZANY FANS!

THE REHEARSAL THAT WASN'T!

THE TALK!

Posted by Wil at 12:27 PM | Permalink

Why I will not rally around the president

This comes from alt.fan.noam-chomsky. I agree whole-heartedly with the author. I realize that this may piss some of you off, and it may cost me some readers, but this whole site is about getting to know me, and who I am. Well, this is part of who I am.

Why I will not rally around the president

 by Robert Jensen

 

 

 

We are told that in this time of crisis, all good Americans should rally around the president and the flag.

 

I will rally, but not around a leader calling for war or a symbol of nationalism.

 

It is easy to understand the emotion behind the chanting of "USA, USA." But I will not chant.

 

In this time of crisis, I will rally around policies that seek peace and security, for all people everywhere. And instead of chanting, I will speak quietly about the grief we all feel, and loudly about the need to resist our leaders' plans for global war.

 

Decent people agree that in this time of crisis, we cannot let the lines of color and culture, of language and religion, divide us. But we need to go another step, to understand that the lines dividing people based on nations are just as dangerous. We must also agree not to give in to the urge to value the lives of innocent Americans over the lives of innocent people in other countries.

 

For the past few days -- in person and on the phone, through email and on the radio -- I have been called "unpatriotic," condemned as a "traitor" and labeled "anti-American" because my writing has opposed the drive to war, the call for blood to avenge those who died in the terror attacks.

 

But I also have heard from many others who also are concerned that U.S. officials will take us into a war that will bring only more death, pain and grief, leaving us less secure. They want to speak out but fear being attacked for not being "good Americans."

 

This is a moment when we need the courage to say that being a good American does not mean supporting a war so violent and so indiscriminate that more innocent people will die.

 

That does not mean we renounce the ideals of freedom and justice so often associated with the United States; we should hold onto those ideals more fiercely than ever and put them into practice by resisting the rush to war.

 

We should honor the ideals of this country by saying, in as clear a voice as we can manage: Not in our name will the United States seek vengeance or go forward to kill.

 

It is important to read closely the joint resolution passed by Congress, which authorizes the president "to use all necessary and appropriate force against those nations, organizations, or persons he determines planned, authorized, committed, or aided the terrorist attacks that occurred on Sept. 11, 2001, or harbored such organizations or persons, in order to prevent any future acts of international terrorism against the United States by such nations, organizations or persons."

 

That is not a resolution based on a quest for justice. It is an open-ended invitation to attack anyone U.S. leaders decide to target. And those leaders -- Dick Cheney and Colin Powell among them -- are some of the same people who during the Gulf War unleashed attacks not only on military targets but on

civilians and the entire civilian infrastructure of Iraq, killing hundreds of thousands of innocent people during and after the war. This resolution, and the statements from the Bush administration about an ongoing global war, suggest that what is coming will be even more frightening.

 

When we speak out against war in public, we will find support, but we also should expect hostility. We should expect the question posed by one of the people who wrote to condemn me: "Whose side are you on?"

 

The answers to that are simple:

 

I am on the side of the people -- no matter where they live -- who will suffer the violence, not the leaders -- no matter where they live -- who will plan it.

 

I am on the side of peace, not war.

 

I am on the side of justice, not vengeance.

 

And most important, I am on the side of hope, not despair.

 

We do not have the luxury of despair right now. There is too much at stake for too many people.

 

Robert Jensen is a professor of journalism at the University of Texas at

Austin. He can be reached at [email protected]

Posted by Wil at 1:22 AM | Permalink

Homework

Two quick things tonight. Not a lot of time to write, because I have a HUGE audition tomorrow (Monday) for a supercool miniseries. So I have a lot of homework to do.

Speaking of homework, here's yours:

Read this, and get involved.

Read this, and laugh your ass off at one of the coolest things, ever.

Posted by Wil at 11:12 PM | Permalink

Photos

I've finally added some photos.

Hellamadprops to Loren for helping me get IDS running.

Posted by Wil at 10:17 PM | Permalink

Random

My wife and I were driving home from Nolan's soccer game this morning.

Let me pause here and say how much I love getting up at 6AM on a Saturday, so I can go sit in wet grass and watch overachiever parents scream at their terrified 10 year olds that they're doing everything wrong. Oh, and I especially love when the assistant coach of the freaking team gets so pissed at the kids for making a mistake that he takes off his hat, throws it to the ground, and stomps on it. For reals. And if that wasn't enough, when one of the kids missed a fairly easy goal (maybe he was distracred by his father screaming at him to "Kick it, Brandon! Kick it! KICK THE DAMN BALL!"), he actually dropped to the ground in a ball, and pounded his fists against the ground, like Kirk in Wrath of Khan.

Fortunately, Nolan is a phenomenal soccer player, and he doesn't get yelled at by any of his parents, or the head coach, who happens to be his dad.

But my favorite is the guy who can't even sit down, beacuse he's pacing the whole time, screaming at his kid, "David! Get back! NO! Get up! NO! Cover your guy! NUMBER 4 DAVID! COVER NUMBER 4! NO! Don't look at me!!! NOOOO!!!" Pace. Pace. Smoke. Smoke.

Running a close second is the guy who yelled at his kid, "Alberto! Alberto! You just cost your team a goal! What did we talk about?! WHAT DID WE TALK ABOUT?!"

I have two pieces of advice for those parents:

1) Get a life. They're 10. It's not that important.

2) For the benefit of the kids, and all the parents around you, please stay the fuck away from the field, okay? Drop your future Maradona off, go home, and come back when the game is over.

Read the AYSO guide of conduct, recently, guys? I didn't think so.

What a tool.

Anyway, I'm on the way home with Anne, and this really wussy song comes on the radio, and she says, "Is this The Crash Test Dummies?" (One of the wussiest bands in history, for those of you scoring at home)

"No, it's Metallica." I told her.

So if any of you were wondering if Metallica has completey lost it, there you are. I can't believe that the guys who croak out "Until It Sleeps" are the same guys who gave me whiplash in 95 listening to "Damage Incorporated" and "Master of Puppets"

"Napster bad!"

So are formerly cool metal bands who wuss out.

A change of pace?

Am I the only person who is at once really tired of, yet unable to pull myself away from, the wall to wall converage of the WTC bombing? Apparently not.

But KCBS Channel 2 here in LA has finally stopped running their coverage (I am convinced now that Dan Rather is not a person, but a very complex robot who can stay awake for hundreds of hours in a row. That or he's a series of clever clones, like in that Droopy cartoon).

The only thing is, they've replaced the constant replays of horror and suffering and destruction with...a marathon of Judge Judy.

What?

Belly Buttons

I think that there are few things in this world that are sexier than a flat tummy, in one of those midriff shirts, with a subtle piercing and NO FUCKING WAIST BRACELET. Waist bracelets belong one place, and one place only, and that is on strippers. So if you're not a stripper, please, please, puh-leeeze. Just say no. You'll be glad you did.

Anyway, I turn on something like VH1 or something, and they're playing that Levi's commercial, where the belly buttons are singing, "I'm coming out". You know the one. Does that give anyone else the creeps? Somehow, they made those belly buttons look the opposite of sexy. They made them scary. I mean, they made them clown scary.

Clown scary, Chet. Clown scary.

Posted by Wil at 5:10 PM | Permalink

Please Read

This is making its way all around, and, sadly, I don't think the people who really need to read it are capable of that. But, please read it, if you haven't already, and spend a moment to reflect. It comes to me from Loren.

"I've been hearing a lot of talk about "bombing Afghanistan back to the Stone Age." Ronn Owens, on KGO Talk Radio today, allowed that this would mean killing innocent people, people who had nothing to do with this atrocity, but "we're at war, we have to accept collateral damage. What else can we do?" Minutes later I heard some TV pundit discussing whether we "have the belly to do what must be done."

And I thought about the issues being raised especially hard because I am from Afghanistan, and even though I've lived here for 35 years I've never lost track of what's going on there. So I want to tell anyone who will listen how it all looks from where I'm standing.

I speak as one who hates the Taliban and Osama Bin Laden. There is no doubt in my mind that these people were responsible for the atrocity in New York. I agree that something must be done about those monsters.

But the Taliban and Ben Laden are not Afghanistan. They're not even the government of Afghanistan. The Taliban are a cult of ignorant psychotics who took over Afghanistan in 1997. Bin Laden is a political criminal with a plan. When you think Taliban, think Nazis. When you think Bin Laden, think Hitler. And when you think "the people of Afghanistan" think "the Jews in the concentration camps." It's not only that the Afghan people had nothing to do with this atrocity. They were the first victims of the perpetrators. They would exult if someone would come in there, take out the Taliban and clear out the rats nest of international thugs holed up in their country.

Some say, why don't the Afghans rise up and overthrow the Taliban? The answer is, they're starved, exhausted, hurt, incapacitated, suffering.

A few years ago, the United Nations estimated that there are 500,000 disabled orphans in Afghanistan--a country with no economy, no food.

There are millions of widows. And the Taliban has been burying thesewidows alive in mass graves. The soil is littered with land mines, the farms were all destroyed by the Soviets. These are a few of the reasons why the Afghan people have not overthrown the Taliban.

We come now to the question of bombing Afghanistan back to the Stone Age. Trouble is, that's been done. The Soviets took care of it already.

Make the Afghans suffer? They're already suffering. Level their houses? Done. Turn their schools into piles of rubble? Done. Eradicate their hospitals? Done. Destroy their infrastructure? Cut them off from medicine and health care? Too late. Someone already did all that.

New bombs would only stir the rubble of earlier bombs. Would they at least get the Taliban? Not likely. In today's Afghanistan, only the Taliban eat, only they have the means to move around. They'd slip away and hide. Maybe the bombs would get some of those disabled orphans, they don't move too fast, they don't even have wheelchairs. But flying over Kabul and dropping bombs wouldn't really be a strike against the criminals who did this horrific thing. Actually it would only be making common cause with the Taliban--by raping once again the people they've been raping all this time

So what else is there? What can be done, then? Let me now speak with true fear and trembling. The only way to get Bin Laden is to go in there with ground troops. When people speak of "having the belly to do what needs to be done" they're thinking in terms of having the belly to kill as many as needed. Having the belly to overcome any moral qualms about killing innocent people. Let's pull our heads out of the sand. What's actually on the table is Americans dying. And not just because some Americans would die fighting their way through Afghanistan to Bin Laden's hideout. It's much bigger than that folks. Because to get any troops to Afghanistan, we'd have to go through Pakistan. Would they let us? Not likely. The conquest of Pakistan would have to be first. Will other Muslim nations just stand by? You see where I'm going. We're flirting with a world war between Islam and the West.

And guess what: that's Bin Laden's program. That's exactly what he wants. That's why he did this. Read his speeches and statements. It's all right there. He really believes Islam would beat the west. It might seem ridiculous, but he figures if he can polarize the world into Islam and the West, he's got a billion soldiers. If the west wreaks a holocaust in those lands, that's a billion people with nothing left to lose, that's even better from Bin Laden's point of view. He's probably wrong, in the end the west would win, whatever that would mean, but the war would last for years and millions would die, not just theirs but ours. Who has the belly for that? Bin Laden does. Anyone else?"

-Tamim Amsary

Posted by Wil at 2:24 AM | Permalink

Fuck You, Falwell, and Robertson Can Kiss My Ass

Via Plastic.com via the Washington Post:

Television evangelists Jerry Falwell and Pat Robertson, two of the most prominent voices of the religious right, said liberal civil liberties groups, feminists, homosexuals and abortion rights supporters bear partial responsibility for Tuesday's terrorist attacks because their actions have turned God's anger against America.

Posted by Wil at 6:38 PM | Permalink

SpongeBob Vega$ Pants

Vega$ baby! Vega$!

It's the battle cry often heard coming from our car as my wife and I tear up I 15, making the 4 hours drive in 3 and a half. I mean, driving to Vega$ is half the fun. The excitement, the boredom, the constant, "Are we there yet?" Answered by, "Yes, just around this corner," or "We passed it. I have to turn around."

The stop at Barstow for In-N-Out Burgers, and slowing down past the Bunboy to see how hot it is at "the world's tallest thermometer". Reading every single billboard, announcing that the Stardust has ROOMS AVAILABLE TONIGHT! And Circus Circus has FREE CIRCUS ACTS EVERY HOUR!

The drive is usually as much fun, if not more fun, than the time we spend in Vega$.

I bring this up, because the last two times we've gone there, we've flown (because we weren't paying for it), and flying to Vega$ just sucks. I mean, where is The Mad Greek? Where is Lake Delores? And you know what? You can't listen to Joshua Tree on the way, when you're in a plane. The flight isn't long enough, and you look lame when tears roll down your face while listening to "Running To Stand Still" on an plane. In a car it's okay, but not on a plane. I don't know why, it's just one of those things that we'll never understand. Like overalls on adults, or George Bush in the White House.

So I'm gonna give you all the stories from Vega$, including the Con and stuff. The plan right now is to split them up over a few days, because I'm so damn long-winded, but we'll see where we are in a little bit.

Here goes.

The Flight

We went out on Southwest Airlines from Burbank. I love flying Southwest for less than an hour. It's easy, it's cheap, and the flight attendants out here are always really friendly and funny. Friendly and funny goes a LONG way with me, FYI.

We were scheduled to go out at 3:50 PM, meaning that we'd need to get to the airport around 3, which means we leave our house at 2:15 or so.

So it's 3:15 and we're walking out the door...and somehow we get to the airport on time.

You know how southwest gives you those boarding cards? I got number 42!! YES! Check out what a dork I am. I was so excited, because, you know...

So the flight was nice and bumpy, which is my favorite. OH! LeVar Burton was on the plane with us, and when we landed in Vega$, Anne and I ran, and I mean, ran into the bathrooms, and LeVar comes walking over to me, and tells me, "W W, [he always calls me that, which I think is cool] when you showed me that picture of your wife in South Pasadena [when we were at the TCAs for TNG on TNN -nice use of acronyms, Wil], you did not do her justice." Dramatic pause. "Wil Wheaton, your wife is a fox!"

So I've got that going for me, which is nice.

So we get a ride to our hotel, which is The Bellagio (again, because we're not paying for it. I am *so* not into the pretentious BS. The whole time we were there, I felt like I was playing dress up). We check in, and now we have exactly 30 minutes to get changed, and all that before my sketch comedy group meets us for a quick dinner and rehearsal.

Let me talk for a minute about my sketch comedy group.

I am a member of the ACME comedy theatre in Hollywood. The ACME is one of the best comedy theatres, ever, and it's one of the few achievements I've made that I am extremely proud of. I love the ACME. Matter of fact, I'll be teaching at our school very soon. So if you're in Los Angeles, and want to learn how to give up the funny, you should call us. You'll be glad you did! Alright. Enough gushing.

From this exceptional company,I chose some of the best improvisers/writers/performers I could find. Because I chose the best, they were all working on their various projects and things, and it was EXTREMELY hard to set up a rehearsal schedule that everyone could commit to. So we're doing a show with 10 sketches, most of which we've never done as a group before, and we've never really had a full rehearsal until the night before we're supposed to perform. Holy shit. I am freaking out, because I am a perfectionist, and I feel like these Trekkies have all paid lots of money to see our show (which sold out! Yes!), and I want to give them a really good one. One that they'll remember. It also doesn't help that I'm feeling like I have to win these people over (which is how I feel every time I go to one of these conventions) and prove to them that I can do something other than re-align the warp core or whatever.

So it's 5:30PM on Wednesday, and we're meeting at 6PM in the lobby to eat before we get rehearse in our hotel room. It's 6:15, and Kevin still isn't there, and I am freaking out. I am pacing in the lobby, pulling at my hair, and all that stuff. And I'm cursing Kevin's name, until he shows up at 6:20. Well, it turns out that I had forgotten to tell him what time we were meeting. My bad.

4:32 PM PDT:

There's more to come very soon, but I just remembered that there is a blood drive and fundraiser as the Rose Bowl, and I want to get there before it's over.

6:00 PM PDT:

I just got back home. I gave money to the Fireman's fund, and the Red Cross. I felt good about doing that, but the jingoistic attitude that pervaded the whole area really bothered me. Especially in light of this and this. I think this may cost me some readers, and maybe get me some hate mail, but I have to say it: the attitude for vengence and revenge that seems palpable everywhere I go really scares me. I'd rather feel a demand for justice.

Anyway, back to our regularly scheduled programming:

Kevin finally shows up, and we decide to go to the buffet. But when we get there, we notice that it's $24.95. Holy shit. Question: does anyone ever really get their money's worth at a buffet? I don't ever feel like I do. And I always end up combining foods that I really shouldn't combine. Like shrimp and chocolate cake, or miso soup and some alfredo pasta (back in the pre-lactose intolerant days). So I suggest that maybe $24.95 is too much for a bunch of us starving actors (hey, I haven't found my pennies yet) to pay, and maybe we should go to the Cafe instead. So we shlep all the way across the damn casino to the Cafe.

Tangent: When you go to Vega$, have you ever noticed that everything is through the casino? I mean, I bet if you go to the hospital in Vega$, you have to go through a bank of slot machines to get to the ER. You have to go through a casino to get to the casino. Bastards.

So we go to the cafe, and because it's the Bellagio, everything costs so damn much that it would have been cheaper for us all to eat at the Buffet. So there was much shit given to your old pal Wil, and we had to eat Sir Robin's Minstrels. And there was much rejoicing.

Yaaay.

After dinner, we headed upstairs and finally ran our whole show. I had made a very big deal to everyone about how important it was to know all of their lines, so they could work on character tweaks, instead of memorizing lines. And everyone stepped up. They all knew their lines, they all knew their characters, and it was great. All except one person, who couldn't remember his lines for shit.

Me.

Oh, how awful I felt. How embarassed I was. But it happens sometimes to me. It used to happen back on Trek. When I would have a really important scene, ususally one with Patrick, and I wanted to do really well, and impress everyone. I would just get a brain freeze, and even know I knew that I knew the lines, they wouldn't come. Like "I know that joke, but I forgot it" times a million.

So I was still pretty freaked, but we got through it, and I did get the lines down, mostly, enough so I felt like we could all go out and have a drink and do a little gambling.

It was decided that we'd all head back to our respective hotels, and meet at Cleopatra's Barge at Caesar's Palace in something like a half-hour.

So here's the deal: This place, Cleopatra's Barge...I felt like I'd walked into someone else's mid-life crisis. Someone please explain to me why all the cover bands play "Brick House"? And someone else explain to me why they can never get the words right? Oh! And here's a newsflash for you: Creed sucks. Playing bad covers of Creed songs sucks even more. So just stop the insanity!

We sat at this place for the prescribed half-hour, and as soon as everyone else was there, we bailed out, and fast. Cleopatra's Barge was more like the Titanic. We did a teeny little bit of gambling, and Tracy won 40 bucks in quarters, which was cool.

We ended up across the street at The Barbary Coast, where the dealers were cool, I won some money on Craps (my favorite game, for those of you scoring at home), and Anne won some money at the Wheel of Fortune slot machines. We went into the Coffee Shop, and had REASONABLY PRICED steak and eggs, with a side of extra-well done hasbrowns, thankyouverymuch, and that was it. We went in about 3 AM, which isn't bad, Vega$-time, because I had looked at the schedule for the con the next day, and I wasn't on until 5PM. Cool. Time to sleep in.

Morning. 8AM. I've been asleep for 5 hours. Phone rings. It's Jackie Scott, one of the convention promoters. She says, "We need you here at 10 for an autograph signing. Do you want to be picked up at 9:30, or do you want to take a cab?"

"Mrphhzzzzgggggthphbbt" was all I could muster.

[NEXT:]

DAY ONE AT THE CON:

AUTOGRAPHS!

MY ON STAGE TALK!

THE SKETCH SHOW!

And...

Let the rudeness begin!

Posted by Wil at 4:24 PM | Permalink

Button, button, who's got the button?

Check out this cool button that was made for me by MizRedHead:

And check out this one, made by Steve Albright:

If you'd like to make a button, I think that'd be cool, because these are already cooler than anything I could have com up with. If you want to, it should be a .gif file, no larger than 3K, and no bigger than 35x100. email it to me, and I'll post the ones I think are the coolest, along with the aforementioned hellamadprops.

Posted by Wil at 1:01 PM | Permalink

He didn't know what to do. But he'd think of something.

I wasn't going to talk about this, because it's all anyone is talking about. I mean, I turn on TLC to get away from it, and they're just running a feed of FOX News. Same for Discovery. Even ESPN has a ticker with updates scrolling across the bottom of the screen.

So since I can't get away from it, I give in. I will write about it. Because I am scared. I am distraught. I am upset. I am depressed. I am angry. Mostly, I don't know what to do, and I'm not quite sure how to feel. It reminds me of when my friend hung himself. How helpless I felt, how angry, sad, scared, etc.

But the thing that really pushed me over the edge, the thing that made me sit down here tonight, was when I took Ryan to the mall tonight to buy a book for his book report. On the way he asked me if our local mall was popular. I looked in the rearview mirror, and told him that it was. Lots of people go there. He looked back at me, and asked me, "does that mean they're going to bomb our mall?"

So I spent the next hour explaining to him what had happened, and why (as best as I understand it, which is not very).

And I don't have much to say, really. I just know that when my dad got sick, I wrote about it and felt better. And when I got the shaft on the movie, I wrote about it, and I felt better, and when the bastards came for me, I wrote about it and I felt better.

And I really do want to tell all about Vega$ and the convention, but I can't, until I get this out of me. So here goes:

My wife woke me up Tuesday, much earlier than we normally get up, because my mom had called, and told her about the attack on the WTC. So sat up, turned on the TV, and watched in horror as that plane crashed into the tower, over and over and over and over.

I felt like I was watching a bad Steven Segal movie. I mean, this just doesn't happen in real life, right?

Anyway, I'm not gonna rehash the whole thing, because we've all been doing that, and I don't want to turn into what the news networks are all doing: just saying the same thing, over an dover, with a different pundit to agree with them.

But here's the deal: I can't cry. I really want to. I feel it well up in my chest, but the tears won't come. And that is the hardest thing, so far. That and the fear.

I was walking Ferris last night, and I kept getting this completely irrational fear that something awful was going to happen while I was away from the house. Didn't help that she kept stopping, and looking behind us, like there was something there.

I am supposed to travel at the end of the month to the east coast for another Star Trek Convention, and I really don't want to go now. At all. I know that is totally irrational, and totally lame, and exactly what the terrorists want, but I keep imagining what those people on those planes were feeling, knowing that they were going to die. I wonder what I would do if that ever happened to me...?

So, here I find myself at an uncommon loss for words. I don't think I really have much to add, so that's it for tonight.

Hrm. Worst. Entry. Ever.

Posted by Wil at 2:55 AM | Permalink

Barlow

This comes from John Perry Barlow, via Loren, via Scripting.com:

As most of you know, I believe that the United States has gradually, subtly, invisibly to most of us, become a police state over the last 30 years.

This morning's events are roughly equivalent to the Reichstag fire that provided the social opportunity for the Nazi take-over of Germany.

I am *not* suggesting that, like the Nazis, the authoritarian forces in America actually had a direct role in perpetrating this mind-blistering tragedy. (Though their indirect role deserves a much longer discussion.)

Nevertheless, nothing could serve those who believe that American "safety" is more important than American liberty better than something like this. Control freaks will dine on this day for the

rest of our lives.

Within a few hours, we will see beginning the most vigorous efforts to end what remains of freedom in America. Those of who are willing to sacrifice a little - largely illusory - safety in order to maintain our faith in the original ideals of America will have to fight for those ideals just as vigorously.

I beg you to begin NOW to do whatever you can - whether writing your public officials, joining the ACLU or EFF, taking to the streets, or living visibly free and fearless lives - to prevent the spasm of

control mania from destroying the dreams that far more have died for over the last two hundred twenty five years than died this morning.

Don't let the terrorists or (their natural allies) the fascists win. Remember that the goal of terrorism is to create increasingly paralytic totalitarianism in the government it attacks. Don't give them the satisfaction.

Fear nothing. Live free.

And, please, let us try to forgive those who have committed these appalling crimes. If we hate them, we will become them.

May God - or Whatever you want to call It - bless us all. We'll need it.

Barlow

Posted by Wil at 12:58 AM | Permalink

The World Has Turned

It's all anyone is talking about, so I'm not going to say much beyond this:

The World Has Turned, and I don't know what tomorrow will bring. I have this feeling that things will never be the same.

Here's my number one fear: I fear that Bush (who disgusts me, so just know that, and save your flames for someone who cares) will see this as an opportunity to look "Presidential", and bomb "Them" back to the stone age, and figure out who "They" are later. Sure, I think that we should find out who did this, and deal with them...but I fear the way it's going to be handled.

Loren makes a great point: there is all this talk about how our intelligence missed this, and whatnot. I greatly fear the laws that are going to come out of this thing. I am really afraid of what's going to happen to our privacy because of this. Just something to think about, while we all try to process this stuff.

This site seems to have a good timeline, if you're interested, and Slashdot has a good discussion going. I suggest listening very carefully to what you hear on the news, especially as there is less new info to report, and the carefully coiffed anchors begin speculating and exploiting, in an effort to hold your attention. I suggest reading IndyMedia and CommonDreams, as good alternative sources of information, free of spin and agenda.

In the mean time, please go and give blood. Especially if you're O-. I know that the thing I feel the most right now is helpless, and giving blood is something, however small, that we can do to help out, and maybe not feel so helpless.

Okay, I've said enough, which is more than I wanted to in the first place. I have cool Vega$ stories to tell, but I just don't feel like telling them today. Maybe tomorrow.

Posted by Wil at 2:35 PM | Permalink

Viva Las Vega$ (sort of)

Hey hey!

I am back from Vega$, and one of the coolest conventions, ever! Here's the deal (or the dilly-o, as the damn kids today say. But since I am so not cool, I won't say that. Ever.)

Okay, so here's the deal: I have 5 days worth of cool stories to tell, but I am ex-freaking-hausted now, and my back is completely fucked from signing close to 7500 autographs, so sitting here typing is extremely painful, so that's about it for this entry.

But boy do I have stuff to tell:

The Server Hack

Vega$ (Gambling, losing, losing some more, winning, giving it back, and the rudeness. Oh, the rudness)

The Con: My talk (they hate me! they like me! they hate me! they like me!) My sketch show: (One of the best sketch shows I've ever done, and, apparently, the highlight of the convention, according to some fans) The Star Trek Experience (seriously. one of the coolest things I've ever seen.)

I have much to say, and I have gone back and forth today, deciding if I'm going to write this stupid little "I'm back" thing (which is extremely lame, I think), or just wait until tomorrow and tell all the stories. But I think I wanted my closest friends to know that I was back, and alive.

Tomorrow is a wasteland.

Posted by Wil at 11:09 PM | Permalink

I heart script kiddies

"Hey, Wil! Where's your burrito?" was the subject of an Email I got today...well, my burrito was haxxored.

But thanks to the efforts of the greatest webhosts, EVER, Josh and Loren, I think we're back on track, now. Josh spent the day on a plane, got home, and helped get the servers back together. Loren spent his entire day off getting the servers back up, and restoring all the sites.

I think now is as good a time as any to give a little history on how this lame site came about...

Last year, at comic-con, I met this really cool guy named Ben. Ben is an artist, and had drawn some of the coolest little comic books I have ever seen.

Fast forward to about 2 months before comic-con. I am spending quite a bit of time playing Diablo 2, and surfing the net. One Saturday, while my wife is out of town, I decide to spend the entire day at the computer, and you know what that means...no, not that...I decided to spend the day making a website.

I have wanted a presence on the web for a long time, but I just never got around to it. I was offered, many times, the help of professional designers, but I wanted to do the whole thing myself, for better or for worse. I didn't want this to be just another lame celebrity website. I wanted to have a website that looked more like one of your friend's sites, and less like some Big Hollywood Jackass. But I'm getting ahead of myself. I need to back up to that Saturday.

I went to Yahoo! Geocities, and made that "tvswilwheaton" account. Yes, I did that because I thought it was a very cheesy name, and kind of silly, and plain old "wil wheaton" was taken. I had absolutely no idea how to write/*.phpL, I knew nothing of tables, CSS, or anything, so I used the Yahoo! Pagebuilder, to do a sort of WYSIWYG page design. Oh, it was lame alright. Mucho lame. But I did it to see if I could, and to see if anyone even cared.

So, speed ahead to this year's Comic-con. I made some really silly flyers that had the address of my website on them, and passed them out to anyone who came to see me.

TANGENT: I *LOVE* comics. I have over 5000 of them, much to my wife's chagrin. I love comic-con, too, because it's just so magnificently geeky, and good things always happen to me there. Here's how it works: I can go, and sign autographs for people, sell a few things, and pay for the trip. Now, here is a warning to all current and future (and past) celebrities: The Autograph Area is where careers go to die. It can be really cool, and it can be really sad. Just know why you're there...it's like they say about poker: if you don't know who the sucker at the table is, it's you. Dig?

So it's the Saturday of comic-con. I have talked my friend Kevin (who isn't an actor, he's just graduated Art-freaking-Center with HONORS as an illustrator...yet he has, through all sorts of crazy circumstances, mostly involving me, gotten TONS of work. You'd totally recognize him if you saw him) into coming with me for the day. We're planning on me signing from 11 until 5, having some dinner, checking out the guests, and heading home.

Well, we get there at 11, and at 2, when we're planning on taking a little lunch break, they give us the boot, to make room for someone else. Since our train doesn't leave for like 8 hours, we head downstairs, to see what we can see.

A few hours later, as we're getting ready to leave, I see Ben. I know it's him, because of his unmistakable, ever-present hat. Ben is with some people, one of whom is Loren. I am really excited to see Ben, because I really, really liked his comics last year, and I wanted to see some new ones...problem was, he hadn't made any, yet. But I gave him the address for my lame website, and asked him to take a look.

A few days later, I got an email from Ben, saying that he liked my site, because the content was cool, but the design was lame (which I'd known all along, mind you, so just get off my back, monkey!). He suggested that I check out this site called Killoggs, that he started with some of his friends. He said that I should write stuff there, because I'd fit in. Shortly after that, I got an Email from Loren. He said that he did hosting, and if I wanted hosting for a website, they'd help me out.

So I thought about it:

"I've always wanted to have a presence on the web...but they all hate me in internet land...but having a presence on the web is cool...but they'll all laugh at me....I've got to concentrate...concentrate...concentrate.....I've got to concentrate...concentrate....concentrate...Hello? Hello? Hello? Echo! Echo! Echo! Now batting....Manny Mota...Mota...Mota...."

I had registered wilwheaton.net some time ago, just so nobody else could get it and make it into a something stupid, and I was just sitting on it...so, with Loren's help, I got in touch with this girl Ashley, who had helped me park the domain when I'd registered it.

This story gets cool, I promise. And if it doesn't get cool, I'll add some stuff to it, to MAKE it cool, dammit.

Loren and Ashley helped me move the domain from it's parking space, over to logjamming, where it lives today.

Now, I spent nearly 10 hours a day, over the next 6 weeks, learning/*.phpL, figuring out Dreamweaver, and getting things going...because I really was happy with the content that I had, I mean, it's just me, you know? But I didn't like the look, at ALL. It sucked balls. I mean, holy dogshit, did it suck balls.

While I was working out the look and feel, and the design of the site, I became a member over at Killoggs, and began participating in their discussions, and even wrote what I think is a pretty funny first post.

Somehow, during this time, I asked Loren about keeping an online journal. I don't even remember how it came up, which is too bad, because I bet it's a cool story. Maybe I'll make something up when I'm older. I remember telling Loren that I was thinking about making an Open Diary, and he mentioned to me that there were these two things that I may want to look at: Blogger, and Greymatter. Since I was running the lame old site at Geocities, I wasn't allowed CGI access, so I used Blogger. But I wanted more. I wanted comments, and I wanted direct links...in short, I wanted something cool like Underachievers or Killoggs. So Loren told me that I wanted Greymatter.

I gotta stop for a second here and say something about Loren: He is one of the coolest guys who I've never really met. I mean, he has held my lame hand every step of the way as I made this site. He answered all my stupid newbie, RTFM questions, and never was impatient, or condescending, or anything. He was really, really helpful, and I have come to think of him as sort of a friend of mine. I can totally understand how people become friends over IM and stuff, because that's the only way we talk. Loren could call me, and I wouldn't know his voice from Adam (mostly because Adam doesn't call too much anymore, since I told his mom to stop hitting on me).

So, if you enjoy reading this weblog, you should take a second out of your day, and shout a big "Thanks" skyward, and direct it towards him, because I never would have known about this without him. And if you have a lot of money, you should give him some. Like have logjamming host you, or something. Because they're cool. So there.

End of Tangent.

So, during this 6 weeks of/*.phpL learning, I am a little bitch. I am whining to Ashley, Mae Ling, Ben, Loren, and Josh, and they're all being really supportive, and cool.

Then, one day, it hits me: the design I want. 6 weeks, to the day, after I launched the lame, old site, Anne goes away for the weekend. I put Underworld Live in my CD player, fire up Dreamweaver, and get to work. I work all through the night, and, by morning, I have the design I want. I sleep for a few hours, get up, and populate the site with the content that I want, which should explain all the spelling errors and broken links when I launched.

I get everything going, it's all working out okay, but the only thing not working is Email...for some reason, I can get it, but I can't respond. So I set up a .forward to my old yahoo address, but that's just not very cool, you know? So I ask Loren and Josh if they can do anything, and Loren totally hooks me up. He figures out what is wrong, and makes it go.

Then, today, the site goes boom, and these two guys do everything they possibly can to make it work again. Which is cool, because I just look for things...things to make me go.

I guess the whole point of this little history is to stand up, and say that I couldn't have done this without the help of these people, who hardly even know me. And I wanted to publicly say thank you, and give them what the kids call "hellamadprops".

Hella.

Hella.

Hella.

Posted by Wil at 1:18 AM | Permalink

Fire. Water. Burn.

Guess what? I was reviewed by Lockergnome!!

I must say, of all the stuff that's happened since I opened this little thing, this is quite possibly the coolest thing, yet!

Check it out:

Wil Wheaton

http://www.wilwheaton.net/

{Stand by him} He was the scrawny writer in "Stand By Me," and then he became Wesley Crusher of the Starship Enterprise. If you mention the name "Wil Wheaton" to anyone in my generation, they'll know exactly who you're talking about. But what has this actor been up to lately? You can find out at his official Web site -- written, designed, and maintained by Wil (himself). And ya wanna know what makes it cool? He isn't afraid to kick back and let his hair down. He's actually a pretty funny guy. Just goes to show you that who you see on screen isn't always who that person is in real life. Dude, he always seemed so mellow... walking along those railroad tracks.

This just rules, and I am a happy, happy guy today.

Also, I saw this:

Net Buzz for 08/31/01

Police catch Sacramento slaying suspect in mom's backyard ... Where's that recovery again? Dow drops below 10,000 ... Arrogance, in-fighting doomed Industry Standard ... Salon tells a rambling two-part circus story ... Smoking Gun—scooped! ... Forward: Random biblical wisdom ... The triumphant return of Wil Wheaton ... Mr. Rogers leaves the neighborhood ("too many yuppies") ... Reading through Labor Day weekend (saves gas!)

Now I'm off to my mom and dad's for a BBQ and swimming.

Rock!

Posted by Wil at 5:03 PM | Permalink

Nimrod's Son

Couple of cool things:

Got this Email a few days ago:

Congratulations! You are the recipient of five and a half out of four Sutherlands from

our gratuitously indignant reviewing duo at Blog You! Blog You! Blog You!,

a consumer's guide to weblogs.

To see how you stacked up, feel free to visit:

http://www.blogyou.com

In the review, both the guys were really cool. They were very complimentary, and they both lamented the lack of graphics on the site. So I was thinking about it, and I really don't plan to add a lot of graphics to the site, because I just don't like graphics. I think they slow down the site, and that's lame. I also don't plan on adding lots of "gallery" pictures, because there are other sites out there that are great fansites, and I would just be ripping them off, and stealing their traffic, which is also lame. But I wrote an email back, and I read it to Anne, and she thought it was cool, so I'm gonna print it here:

Hey,

You guys...this is so freaking cool! I LOVE that I rated on your site. Is it a typo that I got 5 and a half out of four? Or is that something you cats do to fuck with lamers like me?

About the lack of graphics: I made a conscious decision to abstain from over loading the site with graphics. I hate graphics that are only there to dress something up, and that's the only reason I'd do more graphics. I put all my energy into the really spartan design, so the content would stand out, and not get lost amongst the noise. And I (there I go, starting a sentence with a conjunction again) *was* going to put up a gallery, but why bother? There are way better sites out there, and I'd just be ripping them off. Once I get IDS configured, I'll have someplace to put my personal pictures, but that's prolly a week or two off.

Look at it this way: you've got two restaurants to choose from. One, Chez Jackass, is a snooty place, where the food is okay, but they REALLY dress up the plate, all nice and pretty...lots of herbs that you won't eat, and lots of silverware that you won't use. Oh, and they overcharge you, make you wait three hours to be seated, water down the drinks, and fuck up your order. Twice. But boy, didn't that plate look nice?

Then there's Joes. Joes is a restaurant on the skankiest street downtown. It has one neon sign, and the "E" is on the fritz. There's a jukebox, but it only plays 45s, and "Wooly Bully" skips. But Joe cooks really good food, and he cooks it himself. He'd never dream of hiring another cook, because any other cook wouldn't make it his way. You never leave there feeling hungry, and you can still get a shot of Jack for 2.50. Because that's the way Joe remembers it, and that's the way it's going to be in his joint, dig?

Well, when it comes to websites, I eat at Joes.

Thanks again for the review. It was really, really cool.

Wil

I hear that Alan Thicke has a weblog, too. So I went to check it out, and it becomes obvious after about three paragraphs that it is so not real. But I don't really care, because it's extremely funny. Check out "About me"...not only does the guy seem cool, based on his tastes and all, but I really like the design of this site.

I don't know Alan Thicke, at all, beyond playing on a celebrity hockey team with him a couple of times.

I remember that Alan Thicke was pretty cool, and I seem to recall him having a good sense of humor... I hope that he doesn't pull a complete dickhead move and force this guy to shut down the site, because that would suck.

Alex Trebek? Funny you should ask about him. He was on the team too, and he was a major league asshole.

Big time.

Which reminds me of something: My roommate in college was Chris Hardwick, of eMpTyVee's Singled Out and Trashed fame, as well as the show Guys Like Us. Chris is also in Jane White is Sick and Twisted, which is why I am in Jane White is Sick and Twisted. Chris is a very, very funny comedian, and has better press people than I do, apparently, because not only has he gotten to be on Politically Incorrect, he's also been on Celebrity Jeopardy!

If you're like me, you'd really like to run up to Alex Trebek, and slap him on his know-it-all bitch face, right? (well, there goes any chance I have of making Celebrity Jeopardy. Dammit.) So Chris is on the show, and Trebek asks him to introduce himself, and Chris does, and says that he is the host of Singled Out, and suggests that Trebek and he trade guests and audiences...the joke being that the Jeopardy guests and audience and the Singled Out guests and audience are totally different. Trebek doesn't get it. At all. So there is this tiny uncomfortable pause, and Chris says, "You've never seen my show, have you?" And Trebek just says, "No." Then, without pause, "Let's meet our next contestant..."

Later in the show, Chris is asked a question, and he gets it wrong, and Trebek looks at his little cards, and gives one of those condescending, Canadian accented, "No, I'm sorry, the correct answer is, of course, 'Henry Arthur Payne'...Henry...Arthur...Payne."

Chris looks at him, doesn't miss a beat, and says, "Hey, you know, on my show, I have all the answers, too, dude!"

Trebek has no comeback.

I'll take "Anal Bum Cover" for 200, Trebek.

Posted by Wil at 1:49 PM | Permalink

The Beach

Yesterday we went to the Beach with the kids, for Nolan's birthday. His birthday was a few weeks ago, but we went yesterday because the little guy broke his arm, and it would have sucked just a little bit, I think, to take him to the beach with his friends while he was in a cast.

Something cool about Nolan: Every year, when it's his birthday, while we're driving around in the car, he rolls down the window, and shouts "It's m' birthday!" And he is just so joyful, and so happy, I just love that. He's done that as long as I've known him, which is since he's 4.

So it was rad. I love the beach. It's one of the few reasons living in LA doesn't completely suck; on any given day, I can ski in the morning, and surf in the afternoon, which I never do, but it's nice to have the option, anyway.

You know what I did at the beach? I peed in the ocean. I just wanted to get that out of the way, because it's something that everyone does, and I just HATE it when people act like they don't. Like girls who insist that they don't fart. Give me a break.

So we're at the beach, and Anne tells me that she wants to take a quick nap while the kids are playing down by the water, and would I go play with them, so she can snooze. I think that's a grand idea, because Anne's been up since I don't know, on almost no sleep, so she can make sure Nolan has a great birthday trip...making sandwiches, cupcakes, packing up the cars, etc...

After much adjusting of the beach umbrella, Anne sleeps, and I go down to the water to play with the kids.

All of the kids brought boogie boards to the beach, and one of Nolan's friends had never done it before, and asked me to teach him.

Now,being a step-father, I have a certain role that I have to play, a certain place where I need to stay, out of respect to Ryan and Nolan's father. There are certain things that I don't do, because they'd rather learn to surf, and play baseball, and soccer, and all that stuff, from their dad. And I dig that, and I don't want to make them feel bad, because it's not about me, it's about them...but it still makes me just the teeniest bit sad. So, because of that, I've never been able to teach them that stuff...but I was able to teach Nolan's friend, and that felt really good. It was really, really cool, putting him on waves, and watching him race back into the water to start all over again. I was proud of him, and wondered if my dad ever felt like that about me, when I did stuff as a kid.

Well, while I was teaching Nolan's friend, and thinking about my dad, there was another dad, this guy who was probably 40...nice beer gut, sunburnt spotty skin, streaked with not-quite-rubbed-in sunblock, trying to teach his 4, maybe 5 year-old daughter and son to play in the waves. Thing is, the kids were really not into it. They were crying, and really afraid, and really didn't want to be there, and the father, this pile of shit, he would do this: "Well, I guess you're too afraid to swim. That's too bad. Let's go home." And he'd start walking up the beach.

Now, more than anything in the world, kids want to please their parents (at least until they're 12), so these kids would stop him, beg him to come back and try again, even though it was clear to me, and to anyone, really, that they were scared shitless, and any parent who gives a shit about their kids, who was in tune with their kids, would know that. But this guy was determined to have his kids play in the waves, so he used the time-tested "Manipulation Technique". Yeah, that's a great way to parent: manipulate your kids so they do what you want. Maybe you can make sure that they're afraid of you, too, and never question your actions, because that makes them grow up to be healthy adults.

Guess what, folks? Kids learn EVERYTHING from their parents, even things the parents don't think they're teaching them. So when you manipulate your kids, this happens: Manipulated kids grow up to be manipulative adults, who become manipulative parents, who have manipulative kids.

Break the cycle, people. Just because your parents were fucked up doesn't mean you have to be, and you certanly don't have to do it to your kids.

Sorry. /rant

While I was at the beach, watching surfers, watching my stepkids boogie board, watching this example of why there should be a parenting test mess up his kids, I started thinking about my own dad.

My dad is a great surfer. One of the best. He talks about going and surfing monster waves, and doesn't even stop to consider that he's over 50, and has a family that would sort of miss him just a bit if he decided to go pull a Mark Foo. He's 53, and he surfs a 10' long board at least once a week. And my parents do not live near the beach. They live over an hour away. Matter of fact, the whole reason my dad almost died is because he was on a surfing trip to Indonesia, and stubbed his toe on a boat anchor, and the resulting blood infection is what made him so sick. But he's better now...I keep forgetting to mention that. Sorry.

But here's the thing: I've never learned to surf from my dad. I was too much of a sissy bitch when I was a kid, and another summer has gone by where I haven't asked him to teach me.

After about an hour of playing in the water, I was hungry, and the kids were ready to get out, too. So I turn up to face the beach, and I see the hottest girl I have ever seen, out of the corner of my eye, walking into the water. I mean, damn. She was amazing.

Okay, before you women get all pissed at me, here is something you have to know about men: We look at pretty girls. It doesn't mean we're unfaithful to our wives and girlfriends, and it doesn't mean we don't love you. I can't speak for all men, but I know that I don't compare, either, which is something you girls like to do, according to all my female friends.

But here's the thing: It's okay. It's genetic. It's in our hard wiring. It's not even the OS. It's an undocumented feature of the hardware. I'm not talking about "checking out" and "leering" that's all your particular man's OS. I'm talking about glancing, and involuntarily glancing back, and thinking "Woah!"So just relax.

Back to the story: I'm turning around, and I see the hottest of the hot babes, walking down the beach, out of the corner of my eye. And when I turn to get another look, I see that it was my wife. *smile* I love it when that happens.

Happy Birthday, Nolan.

Posted by Wil at 2:46 PM | Permalink

Digging for fire

Today, we took the kids to the beach.

I was gonna write about that, but I've been trying to catch up on Emails, instead.

I wanna say something about Emails: I read them all, each one. And I send out that silly autoreply, which has, so far, only pissed off three people. So I'm not doing too badly there, eh? The problem is, I'm so damn sensitive, I felt really bad, that some peoples may not have gotten the joke, and I've been kicking it into overdrive to get at least a small personal response out there. So if you've emailed me, and you haven't heard back, please accept my apologies, and this Shiwala!

While I've been catching up on Emails (it's 230 AM on Saturday, and I've just finished the bulk of the Emails, up to Wednesday), I've been flipping back and forth on Satellite (no evil cable empire for me, dammit) between "House of Yes" and some super cheesy erotic thriller on Cinemax. Because I think it's important to have something to aspire to, and something to be afraid of, in your career.

I leave it to you to pick which is which.

Posted by Wil at 2:41 AM | Permalink

Rrrreally Big Show!

First, if you're reading this, scroll down two entries, and read up...I'm lame, and I messed up the order I wanted to add things to the blog tonight.

Back? Cool.

I'm listening to The Pogues' "There's Whiskey In The Jar". Goddamn, The Pogues make me want to go out to the greatest pub ever, and play darts until I can't move. I love The Pogues. Why do I feel compelled to share what I'm listening to? Like I said on my music links page, I think you can learn a LOT about a person from what music they listen to, so there. On to the show.

Tonight, we did a special benefit for Keith, because he's running in the AIDS marathon, and that is a very cool thing to do.

Some highlights: I am the sidekick on the show, so I have a certain "role" to play, and I have to know when to talk, and when to shut up. So I choose my little quips and barbs very carefully. Tonight we had three VERY funny people on: Kevin Nealon, Ric Overton, and Wendy Liebman. VERY, VERY funny people. Comedy gods. So when we have people like these on the show, I try to turn it up a notch, you know? I mean, really give up the funny, and not suck.

Tonight, I got into this sort of zone, and it ROCKED. Kevin and I (yeah, I can call him Kevin. How cool is that?) just got into this thing, where he would start a story, get to the point where the joke would come, and just look over his shoulder at me, and say, "Wil?" and I'd open my mouth, and something really fucking funny would fly out. Now, here's the thing that sucks about this, NOW: when I am improvising, (which is pretty much what I was doing tonight, just making it up as I went along) I can't remember anything that I said, or did. It's part of living "In the moment". Ask any improvisor, and they'll tell you the same thing. So I can't relate to you all the funny, which is kind of a drag, but I can remember one thing that happened, that made me, and the audience laugh: Kevin (!) was sort of going on and on about how he can't build anything, at all and the audience is beginning to check out (bad), and Keith asks Kevin (!) what he would do if he were to build The Chunnel. So Kevin (!) says, "Well...where would I start?"

And I chime in, "In England, or France."

I thought that was pretty damn funny, and so did the audience...but I don't know if writing it gets across what I'd hoped for...you tell me.

OH! I'm listening to my entire MP3 directory, on shuffle, and it just started playing "Bone Machine" by The Pixies..."Your Irish skin/ looks Mexican/ Our love is rice/ and beans/ and horses lard..." Dammit, I love this band. Why do all the good ones bust up?

Speaking of bands that bust up, our musical guest tonight was Nina Gordon, who was in Veruca Salt, and is all solo now. Okay, I absolutely ADORE my wife, as any regular reader of this site can attest, but I have the HUGEST crush on Nina Gordon. She is beautiful, talented, can sing and write like nobody's business...and she smells really, really good. And she was cool about letting me take a picture with her, which I can't upload becuse my $#@!ing evaluation copy of CuteFTP just expired. Goddammit. I gotta wait until tomorrow so I can buy it. Crap.

Well, to make this entry not a freaking War and Peace Epic like all the others, I'll wrap up soon.

The show was rad. I had a great time, and the best thing is that the entire last 45 minutes of the show, I was SO doing the pee pee dance. Oh my god I had to pee so badly, and I'm onstage doing a live show, and I can't get off the stage, at all. So Kevin (!) is telling a cool story, and I can't even pay attention, because I gotta go so bad. And he turns to me, so I can spit out a good punchline, because I've been doing a pretty good job of it all night, and all I can come up with is, "Hey, I'm just the sidekick, man. Sorry." Because what I really wanted to say was, ala Forrest Gump: "I gotta pee!".

Tomorrow, we're taking Nolan and some of his friends to the beach. It should rule. I can't wait to skim board. I've only been to the beach three times this summer. Which is three times more than last year.

I still haven't heard from Roger about Rules Of Attraction. I think I'm just going to call him...but I'm kinda scared to...lame, I know.

That's all for tonight...oh! except one more thing. Well, two, really: I've been getting emails from the people I linkedto! That is so cool! And, if you're reading this in order, like I told you to, you're prolly wondering what is going on with my cat. Well, about 15 minutes ago, Sketch was running from window to window, meowing like crazy, and I knew that he saw Biko. So I went out back, and there he was. All fluffed out and dusty, his little face covered in cobwebs and junk.

*Huge sigh of relief*

I'm glad he's back.

Everything, in it's right place.

Posted by Wil at 3:39 AM | Permalink

Don't forget your towel

Here are the stories I wanted to put up, yesterday, but I quit when my wife came home:

Anne bought some Pear lotion from Victoria's Secret. I love that, because it's what she smelled like when we were dating.

A note about my family, and specifically my wife: I was telling her about my website, and about how cool I think it is that people are coming here, commenting on my lame little ramblings, and stuff, and she said, "This kind of scares me."

"What kind of scares you?"

"Well, letting people know so much about you. So much about us. I worry that people may think they know you really well, and try to invade our privacy. I don't want to worry about that. I certainly don't want to be worried about the kids, either."

I thought long and hard about that. I want to strike a balance, between giving the world a view of my life without any media filters, and expecting the world to respect the my personal privacy, and the privacy of my wife and step-children. Honestly, I never really thought that this site would become as popular as it has. And I don't know if it will stay as visited as it is right now...either way, I plan to keep on writing, because I gather that people like reading what I have to say, and, honestly, it's very cathartic for me, and I really do like to tell stories.

So here's the deal (boy, I say that a LOT): I'm not posting pictures of the kids.

I'm not posting lots of pictures of me and Anne (even though she did come and kiss me on the webcam last night...that was cool), and there are certain areas of my life that are just off limits.

My first priority in my life is my wife and step-kids. Period. So I hope that's cool with whomever becomes a regular reader.

Boy, I sound really stern there, huh? I guess if I was talking, it would be in my "dad voice". Heh.

More from yesterday: I was sent the coolest jpeg ever by some really cool kids. It really made me smile, a LOT.

I also was sent a link for a campaign to Free TVs Wil Wheaton. It is HELLA funny.

Hella.

Hella.

Hella.

I am clearly defining my use of "hella" as sarcastic, and ironic, for the tiny-brained. You know who you are.

It is my understanding that one of the very cool people at 1142.org made it. And I would like to take this time to say, "Thanks, dude. This is way cool, and it really made my day!"

Finally, last night, Ryan and Nolan were watching TV while I was in the kitchen. I walked out to see what they were watching, and it was Stand By Me, on Channel 5. I thought that was so cool. I mean, they've seen it before, and all, but to see them watching it on their own made me feel really cool. :)

I walked into our family room, and Nolan says, "Look, Wil! You're on TV!" and Ryan says, "Look! There you are!" Pause. "Why did you just faint?"

Kids rule. They just. Freaking. Rule.

Posted by Wil at 2:21 AM | Permalink

Turn on the frustration

Boy. What a day. I have so much to talk about, I don't even know where to begin.

What a horrible way to start off an entry. Mrs. Lee was right, I guess.

So here's the deal: My cats, Biko and Sketch, are totally indoor cats. I never got over the loss of my cat, Rita (who was a boy, but we thought he was a girl, so we named him after my Voice Over agent, who gave him to me), which was totally my fault when I was like 10 or 11. So when I got my 2 cats, I decided that they would only be indoor cats, so I wouldn't have to worry about them getting lost, or killed, or subjected to any of the horrors that outdoor cats surely face. Now, as someone recently pointed out, dogs have masters, and cats have staff, (I file that under "I wish I'd thought of that") the cats are CONSTANTLY trying to get outside, and sometimes they make it a few feet, and I catch them...well, tonight, while I was doing the J. Keith vanStraaten Show (I have pictures!! I'll put them up later), Biko and Sketch got out. Anne found Sketch in about 30 minutes, but Biko has been out for close to 3 hours, and it's after midnight, and I'm really, really worried about him. He's small, he has a heart condition, and I worry that he can't defend himself from the big, mean, feral cats who roam my neighborhood. So if you could spare a thought for him, until he comes back, I'd appreciate it.

I am going to finish the entry I started tomorrow, but I'm going to go out of order, because what happened today is more on my immediate mind, and I'm gonna tell you about that, first.

This morning, I was supposed to have a dentist appointment, but I messed up the time (which I do quite often). I thought it was at 3:15, but it was at 9:30 AM. How I got that messed up, I'll never know, but when I went to check it in my Palm Pilot, the damn thing wouldn't turn on. Luckily, I have everything backed up on the computer (which is currently named HAL-9000, but that's not all that cool...I was thinking maybe changing the name to "Marvin"), but the dentist entry wasn't there. Odd. So here's the thing: I bought my Palm pilot at Best Buy, because the price was right, and they have this great service/replacement plan...or so I thought. (I just went out to look for Biko...note to self: My next door neighbor has a really cool backyard, with a pool. She's like 1000, so I gotta ask her if we can swim sometime).

Back to my Best Buy ni/*.phpare: When I bought my Palm Pilot, they tried to sell me this service plan thing, and the Palm cost close to 200 bucks (150 after rebate, thank you very much), and spending 35 dollars on a service plan seemed stupid to me, all things considered. But the guy did something that's very hard to do to Wil: he sold it to me. He told me that if anything went wrong...that's an important word, anything, because we'll find out in a minute that anything really means something on a very short list...if anything went wrong, I could bring it in, and they'd either fix it, or replace it, right then and there, and I'd be out in under 30 minutes. This is also important to remember, because we'll son find out that by 30 minutes, he really meant over an hour. I asked him, specifically, will I need my receipt? No. Will I need my original packaging? No. What if I lose this little service plan pamphlet thingy? No problem, Mr. Wheaton, we'll look it up in the computer.

Can you guess where I'm going with this?

I get there this morning, at 11. I have to meet my friend Travis at the ACME, because we're rehearsing for the sketch show at the huge Trek convention in Vegas next week. So I call Travis at 1045, and tell him that I'll be there closer to 1130. Oh, how wrong I was.

I get to Worst Buy (gee, you think I'm the first person to come up with that?) at 11. I wait in the three person line for close to 15 minutes, because they've got one person working on returns. "Boy" I think to myself, "the 30 minutes must account for 15 minutes in line! These kids can bang it out!" Wrong again. Little did I know that the 15 minutes spent in line would be the only non-enraging minutes for the next hour.

I explained my problem to the apparently helpful Best Buy Customer Service Drone. She looked at me, looked at my dead Palm pilot, and said, "Okay, do you have your receipt?"

What? Did I have my receipt? I don't need a receipt, I told her, confidently, everything you need it in your computer.

Okay, here's another tangent. Sorry, I know this breaks up the flow, but it just happened: My phone rang. Not a big deal, right? Well, it's 1AM here, so that is a big deal. The phone rings this time, and I think "Oh shit. Something's bad." Matter of fact, I used to pick up the phone in the middle of the night, and say, "Someone better be dead!" Until someone really was. One of my best friends had hung himself. So now I answer the phone, "Hope you won the lottery!"...anyway, I said, "Hello?" and the voice on the other end says, "[long pause] Is Joe there?"

"No, there's not Joe here."

"Who is this?" comes the reply.

I immediately think, "Great. Some fuckwad has gotten my home number, and is fucking with me, and now I have to change my numbers, blah blah, blah..." So I put on my "dad" voice, and I say, "This had better be a wrong number."

And the voice (who I've pegged as about 17 or so) says, "You know what? You're a fag."

I am stunned into silence, at the genius currently coursing across the phone wires, but only briefly. I'm still pretty sure this is some jackass trying to mess with The Kid From TV (yes, it still happens. Jocks never grow up, apparently), so I say, "Okay, genius. I have you on my caller ID, and my next call is to the police."

So I called the police, just to make a record, in case this was some phone calling equivalent of a skRip+ K!|>|>i3, and they sent a guy out here, because I live in a tiny town where nothing ever happens, and he just left.

End of tangent.

We now retun you to: "My Best Buy ni/*.phpare", already in progress.

What? Did I have my receipt? I don't need a receipt, I told her, confidently, everything you need is in your computer.

She looked at me, blankly, tapped a few keys, and told me that they didn't have anything about my Palm in there. They had my wife's camera, but nothing about my Palm.

Great. Here beginneth the ni/*.phpare.

I'm just gonna cut to the chase, because it's REALLY not worth rehashing, blow by blow, and it's late and I'm tired, and I have to get up at 7, so we can take Nolan to the beach for his birthday.

Here are the highlights:

They told me there was nothing they could do without a receipt. I told them that when I bought the service plan, I was told that everything would be in the com--dammit. Ferris just laid at my feet, and farted. Jesus Christ I hate that- I was told that everything would be in the computer, and I wouldn't need it. At first, I was calm. I stayed calm, but forceful, you understand, as I climbed the chain of managers and supervisors, each as useless as the last.

Here was their first solution: I could get a

I would go get a Palm IIIxe from the Palm section. I would bring it back, and I give them the box with all the accessories, and I'd get the actual Palm unit, itself. This was honoring the service plan I'd bought, so it sounded okay to me, until I found out that I was going to be charged a "restocking fee". Well, I was not about to pay a "restocking fee", since I was mislead by the guy who sold me the service plan, and since I had already given them a lot of my money, and a lot of my time. After much gnashing of teeth, and wringing of hands, they agreed to waive the restocking fee. I think it may have had something to do with me saying, "Best Buy is a billion dollar company. My wife and I spend quite a bit of money here, annually. I am willing to walk out of here, right now, without anything, and take all my business elsewhere. That's my TV-buying business, my CD-buying business, my game-buying business, and my DVD-buying business. You're willing to lose all that, over a $20 restocking fee?" (see, it wasn't about the money. It was about the principle. I'm sure a lot of you understand.)

So they tell me to go get the IIIxe, and bring it back, and we'll do the switch, without the restocking fee.

NIKE! (That's Greek for "Victory!", and American for "Sweatshop!")

I ran like phidipidies to the Palm counter, and asked for a IIIxe, so I could be on my way.

Small problem: Best Buy doesn't carry the IIIxe any more. They carry the IIIc, which is nearly 150 dollars more, and way more Palm Pilot than I need.

So I head back to the most innappropriately named "customer service" counter that ever was, and explain the lack of IIIxe's. Which sets me right back to square one. The woman who is "helping" me gleefully informs me that there's nothing else that she can do for me.

So I did what we in acting call "making a choice". I made the choice to become the hysterical, angy, irrational man who they really wanted to just get the F out of Best Buy. I ranted. I raved. I drooled.

And I finally talked to a manager who could do something for me. She explained that there was a mess up in the computer, and that wasn't my fault (duh) she said that I had 2 options: Go home and search for the receipt (which I am certain I've lost. I can never keep receipts. If I put them all in a magic bag of receipt-holding, even that vanishes), or, I can take the $149.00 that they show my IIIxe being currently worth, and I can apply that towards an "upgrade", if I'd like.

I've been thinking about getting a Visor.

So I finally spent an extra 40 bucks, and got the Visor. Now, wy any one of the parade of managers I'd dealt with before that couldn't tell me that is beyond me. Like Columbo was so fond of saying, "Maybe I'm a little stupid here..."

I feel like I gave in, a little bit, because a few years ago, I would have walked out of there without anything, and fought them until I got exactly what I wanted. But Travis was waiting, and I knew that I would be able to spin my tale here, and let everyone know what we've all known, all along: big corporate behemoths like Best Buy suck. I'd encourage anyone who reads this to take your money, and your business, elsewhere. Anywhere. A mom and pop store would be the best, but, after that, maybe a place like 800.com, or something. Just keep your money, and your business away from Big Brother Best Buy. That's today's call to action, such as it is.

Next: Rehearsal, and the "Rrrreally big shew!"

Posted by Wil at 1:44 AM | Permalink

Don't Panic

I'm listening to Coldplay right now. Earlier today, I was listening to Tool, and some Charlie Parker. Does that strike anyone else as a bit incongruous? Speaking of Coldplay, who else thinks that they sound a LOT like Travis, and the first time you heard "Yellow", you thought, "Boy, Dave Matthews sure has changed his sound."

Woah...I just went to the Coldplay website, to make sure the link was correct, and their font is "Albertus", the same font that was used on my favorite tv show of all time, The Prisoner. Matter of fact, it was my fanatical love of The Prisoner that allowed me to understand why anyone would want to wear a spacesuit and go to a convention. Because I used to have a lame little Number 6 pin, and I would wear it to game cons, back in the day.

Oh, that reminds me of this one time I went to a huge game con, and some guy was selling "Put Wesley In The Airlock" buttons. I went up to his table, and he saw me coming, and tried to hide them, but I got there too fast, and I took one. While I was looking at it, I could see the huge drops of sweat falling off his Hutt-like visage, and I asked him, "How much?" He told me 2.50, or something like that, so I bought it, and wore it on my Batman tshirt the rest of the day. That was cool.

Anyway, about Coldplay: I really like this CD. It gives me the same feeling that Hatful of Hollow or The Queen Is Dead did, when I was in ^H^H suffering through high school: it's soothing, but also kinda of melancholy, but not in a depressing sort of way. The song "Don't Panic" is really wonderful. I wonder if they're fans of Arthur Dent & Co?

Enough stream of consciousness ramblings. I wanted to write about a few things that happened today.

I shot some promos for TNN today, for this huge TNG marathon they're doing when they launch TNG on TNN (I love that; it's like NBA on NBC, but without the sex scandals, drugs, and fatherless children all over the freaking country). It was REALLY fun. Promos are those things where you see someone say, "Hi! I'm Gary Coleman, and you're watching the Hour of Yaks, right here on UHF channel 67, Baton Rouge!" They can be REALLY lame, but I always have fun with them. I get the copy, which is usually something like, "Hi, I'm ___, and you're watching Star Trek: The Next Generation, on Time Warner Cable." So when I do it, to amuse myself, I say, "Hi! I'm former UN Secretary General Boutros Butros Gali..." and "Hi! I'm the ghost of former Phillipine dictator Ferdinand Marcos..." or whatever. Hey, it makes me laugh, and then when I do the REAL promo, I'm smiling, and people see me all happy on TV, which is good.

So I'm hosting this 5 day marathon, where they're going to show the "best" episodes of TNG, as decided by the fans, and stuff.

Okay, I gotta stop here, and give a bit of perspective. I thought I'd open up the old IM, since I'm sitting here, anyways, and I've spent the last...well, however long it is running Parachutes twice on the CD player, just answering IM's. I really didn't think that many people would be interested. I really didnt. I know that sounds like "Singles" where the guy says, "Everyone here has a thing" and the girl says, "I think your thing is that you don't have a thing." I'm really not trying to have any false modesty here, or not have a thing...it just surprises me, that's all. So I open up the IM, and I get over 50 IMs. And I want to reply, you know, and then I get sucked into all these conversations, because these people are pretty cool and making me laugh (Katie) and sending me silly stuff (soma dawling)...and next thing I know, it's almost midnight, and I haven't even gotten close to finishing the stories I want to tell for today.

Boy, I am really rambling tonight. Oh well. Deal.

So TNN is doing this marathon, and they're having 5 of us host 5 days of it, doing things like "I'm Wil, and you're watching the Five Day Mission on TNN!" and stuff. And I'm shooting the "stay tuned" things, and that sort of thing, and I remembered just how much fun I had when I was doing that show. Now, I know that most people really didn't like the whole Wesley thing, and there were lots of times when the writing REALLY pissed me off, but, over all, it really WAS a good time. And sometimes I miss it.

Okay, nearly 2 hours have passed between the last paragraph, and this one, because Anne came home, and I haven't seen her all day, so we sat at the table and talked, while we waited for the bread I was baking to finish. I swear, there is nothing like the smell of bread baking in your house to make everything right with the world, you know?

Now I'm listening to the soundtrack from Almost Famous, and I am a sucker for "Tiny Dancer" (I was long before the movie, though, so gimmie a break, okay? Why do I bring up Tiny dancer, well, because I want nothing more in this world than to go get into bed next to my wife, and hold her hand while I drift off to sleep.

I have LOTS of cool stuff to talk about from today, but I'm gonna write it up tomorrow. So you can comment on this entry,or wait until the next one. It's up to you.

G'night.

Posted by Wil at 1:57 AM | Permalink

Romper Stomper

From an Email I got this morning:

Wil:

I'm writing a book about Romper Room and came across a TV appearance of you on a California show with Miss Nancy. You told the hosts you used to watch Romper Room "religiously."

I'm writing to people who were on the show, or who watched the show, to get their impressions of Romper Room. I'm hoping you can answer some questions. What made you watch it? What's your strongest memory of the program? Were you ever on Romper Room?

My response:

I was never on "Romper Room", but here is my clearest memory, from watching it as a kid:

I would sit on the floor of our house (which was really a chicken coop behind my grand parent's farmhouse. Yes, we were that poor), my fingers dug deeply into the golden shag carpeting, my tiny fists balled with anticipation, as Miss Nancy would hold up her magic mirror, and ask it to tell her, today, "did our friends have fun at play?" I would sit up straight, stare into the glorious black and white 13-inch Zenith TV, and wait patiently as she saw Steven, and Jody, and Tina, and Todd, and Michael, and every-fucking-body except WIL! Hey! Miss Nancy! I'm sitting right here! I've had LOTS of fun at play! I did the DooBee dance! I ran around pretending I was a fireman! I HAD FUN AT PLAY! WHY CAN'T YOU SEE ME?! AM I INVISIBLE?! *pant* *pant*

I never watched tv shows like the ones I did when I was 4. Jesus, does anyone?

Posted by Wil at 11:07 AM | Permalink

Save Ferris

I'm listening to Cake right now. Have you noticed that Cake is one of those bands that evokes a visceral reaction in people? I mean, they either really, really love it, or they really, really hate it. I dunno, maybe it's just me.

Here's the story of Ferris:

My wife is the coolest, ever. You know that stupid corny hallmark-card thing about someone making you want to be a better person? Well, sorry, I like to be anti and all Emo and shit, but it's true. I love my wife more than anything, and she really does make me want to be a better person. I could gush about her for pages here, but I'm not gonna. I am going to exercise restraint.

Oh, fuck that. I knew from the moment that I saw Anne that I would marry her. Isn't that weird? Has that ever happened to someone who wasn't in some godawful Nora Ephron movie? And the way we met...it was all timing. My best girlfriend, Stephanie, worked with Anne for YEARS, but she never introduced us...I mean, she even babysat Anne's kids, at MY PARENT'S HOUSE when we were younger, and she never introduced me to Anne...because, when we look back at stuff, the timing was just all wrong. We weren't ready to meet each other. But when we did, it was bootylicious.

Anne is beautiful. I mean, she is fucking hella rad.

Hella.

Hella.

Hella.

I always joke that when we are out, people look at us and complain that there's another hot babe with a geek. I say that I am Bob Goldthwait to her Nikki Cox, David Copperfield to her Claudia Schiffer, Sigfried to her Roy...I truly adore my wife, and that's all I have to say about that.

One of the things I adore about her is how she has what Soul Coughing called "Boundless Love". Anne works every day, takes her kids to school, picks them up, deals with their dad, and still has time to make me feel like I'm important in her life.

We have this fake dog poop that someone gave us a long time ago, and we have the game that we play, where we try to put the poop in each other's stuff. Recently, I stuck it in the toe of her shoe, which was in her suitcase. She found it when she put her shoe on in Vegas. She put it in the exact middle of my bed, under the sheets, and it scared the hell out of me when I jumped into bed around 230 or something last week. My point is, my wife is cool, okay? Yesterday, when I was sobbing like a little bitch in our bedroom, she came in, sat next to me, put her arm around me, and just sat there, loving me. I could feel it. Then she gave me Kleenex, and told me that she'd leave me alone until I felt better.

So you need to know that to understand the story of Ferris.

Anne is a sucker for hard-luck cases, especially animals. One time a few years ago, she almost got hit on the freeway, because she saw a kitten running in the slow lane...so she stopped her car right there and got out to save the kitten, but it got hit by a car just before Anne could get to it, and Anne sat on the freeway, holding the kitten while it died in her hands.

She was fucked up about it for months.

So about 18 months ago, she and I are on our patio, and we hear this meowing coming from our garage. We both thought it was one of my cats, Biko or Sketch, (who are both inside cats, but occasionally get out), so we went to look...and out comes this skinny black cat with no tail. Anne immediately falls in love with him, and she takes him to the vet, to get him healthy again, while I make the "Found Cat" posters. Long story short: We thought he was going to die, the vet said he was just dehydrated, we got him shots, and Anne named him "Felix". He has lived with us ever since, and he is one ot the coolest cats, ever.

Shortly after Felix came to live with us, a woman Anne works with told us about this guide dog she trained, who was also named Felix. She told us that Felix works for a guy up in Canada (and you can't spell "runaway production" without Canada!), and Felix had been hit by a car, and they weren't sure if he would be able to work as a guide dog any more. I guess when a service dog has to be retired, they give the person who trained that animal the right of first refusal as a place to live out their life, but Rita (Anne's friend) lives in an apartment with her husband and young son. Not the best place for a 90 pound lab. So Rita asked her if Felix could come to live with us, and of course Anne said "yes". Long story short: Felix was okay, and he's still working with his guy in Canada. Which is great, because I can only imagine what the bond between service dog and owner must be like. I would just speculate that it's similar to parent-child, and I always hoped that Felix would be able to stay with his guy. In the process of waiting to see if Felix would come live with us, we got on a list for guide dogs who flunk their final exam, because we have wanted a dog for AGES, and we thought that would be the best way to get one.

We are ADAMANTLY opposed to pet stores selling dogs and cats, by the way /soapbox.

Anyway, cut to Memorial day this year. We have no dog. Anne is taking the kids to Home Depot, so they can buy the materials necessary to make a grind rail (they're all about the short boards. I'm all about the long boards. It makes for an interesting dynamic when we skate).

Funny aside: Ryan (12) and Nolan (10) were talking about how excited they were to get a grind rail, which they kept calling a "pole". Nolan says to Ryan, "We TOTALLY have to get some grinding wax, Ryan!" Ryan replies, "Yeah, so we can wax our pole!"

Okay, so they're leaving the Home Depot, and instead of going to the Left, to get back to the freeway like they always do, Anne goes right, and passes this bus stop, where this tiny little dog is chewing on a t-shirt. Anne says that she felt compelled to stop and save her. So she did. As soon as she got out of the car, the dog ran into some Oleander bushes, and Anne spent close to 30 minutes getting her out, and took her to an Emergency vet, for some shots and to get the ticks out of her ears.

So Anne brings home this skinny, 27 pound, depressed little dog, and, I must be totally honest, I was pissed. I was so mad that she had made this huge decision to take on the responsibility of a dog without consulting me. I mean, we have enough responsibilities already, you know? We really had it out. There was much gnashing of teeth, and Sir Robin soiled his armor. We finally agreed to keep her for a few days, and see how she was, and if she wasn't any better, we'd take her to a shelte where they don't euthanize the animals.

Well, she was terrified of me. She had CLEARLY been abused by a man, and she was terrified of men. "Great," I thought, "I'm going to be responsible for a dog who never lets me pet her. Terriffic."

And for the first 12 hours--wait, I know I'm not supposed to start a sentence with a conjunction. But I can't spell for shit, so why are you complaining now? Jeeze. Get off my back, Mrs. Lee [9th grade english teacher who flunked me because she said I couldn't write. I win.]--for the first 12 hours, she sat by the side door, never moving, never eating, just looking depressed. But somehow, my amazing wife loved this dog enough, and totally turned her around. Within 12 hours she was wagging her entire body, eating, chasing a tennis ball, and generally acting like a dog. And she let me pet her, and started following me everywhere around our house.

So we decided to keep her. But she needed a name...and that was very important. I wanted to give her a name from Mythology..."Athena" or "Psyche" or something. I know, lame. Deal. The kids wanted to name her "Haley", which didn't work for me at ALL, because in high school I had the most painful crush on a girl named Haley...so we decided that we'd try on different names for a few days, and the right one would reveal itself to us.

Anne comes home from work the next day, comes in the door, looks at me and says, "Ferris."

"Bueller?"

"Sort of. Save Ferris!"

Okay, there is this band from OC that we LOVE called Save Ferris. They play with our friends fairview a lot. They rule.

Anne says, "Get it? Save Ferris. I totally saved Ferris!"

I looked at the dog, looked at her sweet, marble eyes and soft little puppy-fuzzy-head, and it was perfect. Not surprising, considering that it came from my wife.

So her name is "Ferris".

Isn't that a cool story?

Anyone?

Anyone?

Bueller?

Bueller?

Posted by Wil at 1:46 PM | Permalink

Mostly Harmless

I can never think of clever, funny, or thoughtful titles for my entries. That bothers me. But then I think of New Order, one of my favorite bands from my youth...not a single one of their song titles had anything to do with the actual songs..."Blue Monday"..."Everything's Gone Green"...? So I think it takes some of the pressure off of me...which makes me think of something I realized about myself recently: I'm always in competition with myself...You know how you tell kids, "don't be so competitive with each other"? Well, I tell my step-kids that all the time...sometimes it is just not that important who wins at Yahtzee...sometimes...

Anyway, I was thinking, (bad idea), and it hit me: I am in a state of constant competition, with myself. It is impossible for me to be happy with anything I've done, and I always work hard to best my last effort...so being in a movie like Stand By Me when I'm 12 isn't exactly the best place to start...I've been trying to best that one for years. Somehow I think "The Curse" just didn't quite do it, do you?

I bring this competition thing up because tonight I rehearsed with my sketch comedy group for this big show we're doing at the huge Vegas 30th anniversary of Star Trek convention. I pulled together some of the best sketch comedians I know, who are also great improvisers, to do this show. I'm really excited about it, because the Star Trek fans are going to see something that they really don't expect.

So we're working on it tonight, at the ACME theatre, where I just finished a wonderful sketch show, that was really fun, and VERY well reviewed, if I say so myself, and I got to thinking about how hard I worked to get my funny in order for the show I did there, and the funny that I couldn't get together for the newest show (I'm not in it). And I realized something, I have to stop competing with myself, because either way, I'm not going to win...I mean, how do you beat yourself? (Well, other than the obvious, impure-thoughts way that seems to be so popular on the internet) Isn't there a movie where the hero can't fight the villian, because they're really the same person, and each knows what the other will do at any given time? Not Face/Off. I mean a good movie. If it wasn't, then someone should write one, dammit. And I want a free T-shirt from it. And I want to be invited to the premiere, but I won't show up. I'll be drunk at some skeevy bar around the corner...that'd be cool.

Sorry, I digress. I do that a lot.

Today, Anne and I cleaned out our entire kitchen. Top to bottom. Holy shit, the junk we've accumulated over the past year is staggering. Even more staggering were the hundreds of those icky meal-bugs that like to get into your flour and hang out. Gross. After we cleaned it out, I was standing in the kitchen, and the whole place just felt better...now stay with me here, because I know this sounds lame, but swear I could feel the energy just flowing better in there, you know? Like I'd cleaned out the place, so the Chi could flow more smoothly...or maybe I'd just left the gas on in the oven. I'm not sure.

Tonight, I rehearsed the show, and it went really well, all things considered. Like all great shows, we have not enough time, and not enough props and all that, but I think we're going to put on a great show, a show that we can be proud of. Hey, if it works, maybe we'll take it on the road, or something.

Oh, and if anyone cares, you can hear me on KXLU 88.9 FM here in LA, tomorrow night at 9PM PDT. Keith and I are promoting the charity J.Keith vanStraaten show that we're doing Thursday.

Some good news, mixed in amongst the bullshit: The guy who runs Surly Heckler emailed me about my first Killoggs post, and wanted to reprint it at his site, which is really cool, because his site is REALLY funny...I hope I don't become the butt of some cruel joke, though. And the guy who linked to me as hell offered some sort of I think apology, but I'm not sure.

I also found this really, really funny page...

and this really, really cool interview with the creator of quite possibly the greatest comic strip ever, Bloom County. I put Bloom right up there with Fox Trot and Doonesbury, next to The Far Side. I also just noticed that this dumb little site I made is currently number 1 at blogdex. I have no idea why, or what that means, but being number one on anything is really, really cool... and kinda weird. =/

And FINALLY,

I've gotten lots of cool emails from people since I left this afternoon. You know who you are, and you have touched me, again.

Not that way, sicko. In the good way.

Jeeze! That's not what I meant, either. God! Damn! Get your mind out of the gutter!

Sheesh. I'm going to sleep now.

Play nice.

Wil

Oh, stories I wanna tell: The origin of "Uncle Willie" the story of Ferris, and how Anne saved me from getting eaten by a bear.

Posted by Wil at 3:05 AM | Permalink

My Velouria

First, I have been overwhelmed with the support, the kindness, and the sheer volume of comments, and emails regarding my last entry.

I have to say "Thank you" to everyone. It's simply amazing, how many different people, separated by distance, culture, carreer, and whatever, are feeling the same things I'm feeling. The amazing thing is, people said things to me that I've thought at one time or another, and forgotten...things about "risk" and things about "giving up". I thank you, all of you, from the bottom of my heart, for opening yourselves to me, and sharing with me your advice and experiences. I'd like to post them all, in the future, and share your wisdom with the masses.

Mixed in amongst the emails was one from my mom. My mom told me that she'd read my Weblog, and that she was "proud to have given birth to a person like me". She told me that she could feel my hurt, and that I should "be sure to cry all the tears, because the joy is waiting in the last tear."

So that's what I did. I went into my bedroom, sat on my bed, and this 29 year old man sobbed like an 8 year old child. Big sobs. The kind that hurt your throat. The kind that shake your body, and soak your face with tears. I cried so long, and so hard, I don't even know what I cried about. I cried for the hurt of losing the job, and for the hurt of being attacked by idiots who don't even know me. I cried for all the times I picked on my little brother when we were kids, and all the times I've sat here at my computer and let my wife go to bed alone while I worked on this site. I cried for every bad choice I've ever made, but mostly, I cried for myself. I cried, and when I thought I was done, I cried some more. Then, just as quickly as it started, it stopped. And I felt better.

Then I made the enormous mistake of checking my logs, so I could see where people are coming from, and thank them for linking to me and I found that some guy uses my site as "hell". Thanks, fucker.Some dude at metafilter says "I'm too good" to join them. Yeah, I can't wait to get into that shit. Please, can I join your little club, so you can hold me up to further villification, without ever getting to know me? Can I PLEASE spend even LESS time with my family, sitting here at this computer, so I can try to change the minds of people who are going to judge me no matter what, without EVER walking an inch in my shoes? So you didn't like my fucking character on a fucking tv show I haven't even worked on in ten. fucking. years. Thank you for blaming ME for the writing of a fictional character, on a fictional tv show. That makes complete sense, considering all the input the writers would take from a 15 year old kid. Have you ever bothered to ask? Did it ever occur to you that I just said the lines I was given? I'm sorry Wesley messed up your precious television show. Fortunately, there were whole seasons after I quit, without me. So you can watch them, and feel better. But don't take it out on me. I'm just an actor, doing the best job he could with what he was given. So I worked on a TV show. So I have made a living as an actor. Big deal. I'm no better than anyone else, and I have neversaid I was, or thought I was. I am just a geek, looking for validation from his fellow geeks.

Congratulations, sir. I'm glad that your empty, pathetic existence is made whole by shitting on a person who you've never even met.

You know, I promised myself that I wouldn't get into this. I promised myself that I wouldn't get sucked in to the mire with the lowest common denominators. Well, guess what, guys? I don't care if you're "The Guy From TV" or if you're "The kid from math class". Being personally attacked hurts. It sucks. I wonder, do you spend a fifth of the time you spend dumping on me doing something constructive with your life? I certainly hope so. You people are just like the people in High School who never took the time to get to know me, and judged me before I even showed up.

Aren't we mostly geeks here, online? Didn't we all, at one time or another, get bullied by "the cool kids"? Don't any of you remember what that felt like?

My mom said to me that she was amazed at how honestly I revealed my feelings. She said that I've always reacted in anger when I am hurt, and she didn't think I was angry. Well, I wasn't, but I am now.

So here's the deal, people: You can read this, or not, and you can see the stuff at my site, or not. But if you are going to judge me, me, the person, Wil, who gets up in the middle of the night when his kids are sick, and worries about making the bills this month, and tries to find time in the day to spend with his wife, and works his ass off for auditions that are going to go to the flavor of the month, anyway, well, you can fuck all the way off. Zip up your spacesuit, and hurry to the comic shop. Your weekly supply of "Magic" cards has just come in.

Posted by Wil at 5:45 PM | Permalink

A look inside

I just got this email:

You're funny, you're smart, you have experiences that are go from ordinary to out-of and back and again, and yet...

...most of what you talk about is your friggin' website!

Talk about your day, what you ate for breakfast, rant and rave. But pretty please, make a separate section for the site updates,/*.phpl and greymatter coups, and the linking excitement. All of that is certainly worth keeping track of, but it doesn't communicate much about you.

So, I think that's a point well taken...here's some insight into my mind, because you asked for it:

I am fighting tears today, with each passing second. Why? Because the defining characteristic of my work as an actor the past few years has been, "It came down to you and another guy, and they went the other way." Translated, that means, "You didn't get the job." If I had a dollar for every time that's happened in the past 2 years, I could retire. It always seems to come down to me and one other guy, who usually is some flavor of the month, and they always hire the other guy. And you know what I hate? I always hear, "You are the best actor we've seen" or something similar...yet I always seem to lose to the guy with the perfect hair and the Kirk Douglas jaw. Let this be a lesson to you aspiring actors out there: being the best actor is NEVER enough.

Well, I took some classes a long time ago, and the teacher always admonished us to not let our jobs become our life, because when we don't work, and there are times when we won't, we'll freak out, because we don't know what to do with ourselves. It's advice I was unable to heed.

Here's something you may not know about me: I love acting. I love working, and creating, more than anything. I love it so much, I'm willing to suffer the extended periods of unemployment, and the constant rejection, as well as the constant attacks from people who really should either try this themsleves, or shut the fuck up.

Sorry, I digress. Back to point: Since yesterday, when I got the "It's you or another guy" phone call, I've been sliding deeper and deeper into depression, because if I can't get hired by MY FUCKING FRIEND, who practically promised me the part, I don't know what to do. I'm sorry, but I am getting so sick and tired of having a project dangled in front of me for weeks, and then having it yanked out from under me at the last second. It hurts. It hurts a LOT, and I don't know if you can understand the depth of the hurt, unless you're an artist or some sort. Because I think that type of rejection is really a personal one, regardless of what they say.

Put in typical, irreverent "Wilspeak" it's like this: you get hooked up with the hottest girl (or guy, if that's your thing), EVER. You're all naked, and ready to go. She's dancing around, telling you all the crazy shit she's gonna do to you, and how she's calling her sorority sisters over later, so you'd better stay ready. She's just about to jump you, and she tells you to close your eyes, and get ready. The next thing you hear is the slamming of the door, and the squealing of the tires as she drives away.

(You know what I'm thinking right now? Those morons who have some primal need to hate me are going to have a field day with this one, and I almost deleted it. Well, fuck them. You wanted to know what goes on in my head, and I want to share...I think I'll feel better when I'm done with this. I hope.)

So I felt like I was punched in the stomach. I feel hurt. This movie is going to be AMAZING. It is going to do AMAZING THINGS for the people who are in it, because Roger is an AMAZING writer and director. And I am this close to having a complete rebirth in my carreer, and it will only take one part to do that. This movie would do that for me. Roger asked me to play a junkie in this movie...if that doesn't shatter the image people seem to have of me, and get people to stop seeing me as 12 years old or in outer space, I don't know what will.

And this comes on the heels of some producers, for whom I suffered with the biggest asshole "director" (I put that in quotes because this guy couldn't direct traffic on a one was street) for NO MONEY on a movie that should have been great, because the script was brilliant. But it will suck now because the asshole will ruin it in post, these producers have jerked me around for 4 months with the promise of a project which will most likely never happen now. Thak Bob I have sketch comedy shows, and late night comedy talk shows to perform in, or I'd go crazy.

There's a chance that Roger will still cast me, and this whole entry and the awful way I've been feeling will be for nothing, and I'll look back at this and laugh, and I can get back to the normal me, who is too busy making jokes to feel sad.

But you wanted to know how I was feeling, and was was going on in my mind...well, there it is.

(And I will talk about my website, because I worked hard on it, and I knew nothing about/*.phpL or CSS or ANYTHING 6 weeks ago when I started it, so I'm proud of it, such as it is. )

Posted by Wil at 2:33 PM | Permalink

A thought

The whole reason I made this site in the first place was so people could get to know *me*, not him or him...so I hope that's what I've been able to do here. Let me know if I blow it.

Posted by Wil at 12:57 PM | Permalink

What an interesting morning

I've gotten all kinds of interesting things today...por ejemplo:

I was listed at blogdex!

Loren got it all set up, so I can reply to email directly!

I talked on IM with a cool guy, who's been on slashdot so long his number is 231!

The guys who did "Weeeeee!"asked me for a quote and banner. I never planned on anyone giving a shit about me, so I haven't made a banner...great. Time to learn how to make animated GIFs. (Hey, if Asia can do it, so can I!)

Posted by Wil at 12:56 PM | Permalink

Quote of the day

"I mean, there are people who DON'T VOTE that write to Star Trek to complain about phaser inconsistancies, for Christ's sake."

-Theatre's Rob Matsushita via Email

Posted by Wil at 11:12 PM | Permalink

Here They Come

I guess there's just no pleasing some people.

But upon careful re-consideration, the bulk of the posts there are actually pretty cool, which is a big surprise to me. I dig it that people will stick up for "The Wilster"*

(I say that because some dude was very upset that I called myself "Uncle Willie". Har. :D)

Posted by Wil at 3:35 PM | Permalink

Props

Check it out: I'm the "Blog of the day" at feeling listless.

Boy, now I really feel the pressure to not suck!

Shitty News

Just got off the phone with my agent, while I was making this entry. The casting director for Rules Of Attraction called this morning, and told us that "It's between Wil and another guy".

What the fuck? I wonder how I went from, "I want you in my movie" to "It's between you and another guy." I do know one thing, though, this isn't Roger's call. It's some fucking executive at some fucking studio.

Wow, the Universe sure does like balance, doesn't it?

Posted by Wil at 3:34 PM | Permalink

Six Degrees Of Memepool

This morning, I got an email from my friend who lives in Boston. It said:

Dear Wil,

Is this yours? I came across it linked to a very strange site called memepool.com

http://www.wilwheaton.net

How about that, eh? Six degrees of memepool.

Posted by Wil at 2:44 PM | Permalink

Audition Update

If you've read the old weblog, you may remember an entry I made about some auditions. Here is the status of those auditions:

The Young Person's Guide To Being A Rockstar: I was "in the mix", which is Hollywoodspeak for "we're considering you until someone bigger comes along". Apparently, someone bigger came along.

Waiting...: I had the audition for this last week, and the casting director told me that the director has someone in mind, but she thought I did such a great job, she was going to send the director my tape, and try to change his mind. Since it's been a week, I guess he was pretty committed. However, this is one of the funniest movies I've ever read. Ever. I really hope the guy they cast gets gangrene (and recovers, of course), so that they call me and put me in it.

Rules of Attraction: This is my friend Roger Avary's movie, based on Brett Easton Ellis' novel. Roger and I have been friends since I worked on Mr. Stitch with him. We talked about three weeks ago, and Roger offered me the COOLEST ROLE EVER in the film, A Junkie Named Marc.

So Tuesday, I went in to read the part, I guess because the producers of the film are making everyone read (or, more likely, Roger wanted to be sure that I didn't suck, and is too nice a guy to say that to me).

Anyway, I went in a read, and I still haven't heard anything back...so....I dunno...guess I shouldn't be shopping for that PS2 just yet.

Posted by Wil at 1:27 PM | Permalink

Launched

So now that the site is launched, I can talk about the horror of getting it all done, and stuff.

The past 6 weeks have been really fun, and really hard, too. My family has grown to lothe my computer, and I can't even mention IM to my poor wife...

My step-kids and I have this deal: whenever I curse, I give them a quarter. So if I'm walking into the house and stub my toe, and say, "Ow! Monkeyfucker!", and they hear me, they just chime, in unison, "Quarter, Wil!".

Let me tell you something, I've just tallied up how much I owe them for the past 6 weeks of site building...the little creeps are going to be able to buy a car!

So far, I haven't been overwhelmed with emails, but the ones that I have gotten have been SO COOL!

Everyone has had really nice things to say, and lots of people have offered help, and advice. So to you guys, and you know who you are, Thank you!!

A note on the Email situation: we've been able to set it up so that it gets delivered right to me, but right now it's working as a relay, so I can't reply to anyone. But I'm talking with the cool guys who host me, and we're gonna fix it.

In the mean time, please enjoy the autoresponse. :)

Posted by Wil at 1:03 PM | Permalink

Bowling for Booty

Last night, my brother's fiancee had a party for him at this REALLY cool bowling alley, near where we grew up. The place only has 8 lanes, and you have to keep score yourself on little sheets of acetate, which get projected up onto the wall...Jeremy decided that he wanted to have a pirate theme, so he called his party "Bowling for Booty", and made everyone wear eye patches. He also played the ride music from "Pirates of the Carribbean" over and over. And over.

It was really fun. Jeremy's 25 now.

Posted by Wil at 12:50 PM | Permalink

This site was last updated on Wednesday, 28 November 2001 at 6:21 PM PST.

If this is your first time here, please read this.

If you're a Star Trek fan, you'd probably like the saga of SpongeBob Vega$Pants.

I had an old weblog, that I kept at the old site. If you want to read that, it's here. I even left the old, ugly styles, so you can see how far I've, er, come, or something.

Posted by Wil at 4:49 PM | Permalink

Where's my milkshake?

Posted by Wil at 1:49 PM | Permalink

I always joke about how I am going to use my "power of celebrity" for good, not evil.

Usually I say that to the girl who's giving me a lapdance. I like incongruity.

I just got this Email, and I think it rules:

"Dear Wil,

I've always wanted to somehow tell you how much I enjoyed your work in the

movie Stand by Me and what that movie meant to me while I was growing up.

When I was a teenager, life in high school was not that fun. In many ways, I

was like Chris Chambers. One of the things Gordie says to Chris is "You can

do anything you want to man." I always took that to heart and now I' m

working my way through college and look forward to a career in political

science. Stand by Me taught me to look beyond where I was and look at what

could be. It gave me hope and got me through those turbulent teen years.

I just wanted to thank you for your sensitive portrayal of Gordie and how he

knew Chris could be better than everyone thought he was.

I also enjoyed your work on Star Trek: The Next Generation. Wesley was a good

example of what young people could do if given the chance. "

Now, I can't take credit for all of that, because I just said the words that were given to me...but it still makes me feel pretty good. :)

Posted by Wil at 4:51 PM | Permalink

So tonight I finished the "foundation" of the new site: I built all the pages, and got myself all hooked up with a style sheet that I actually like.

AND! I am pretty happy with the way I edited the Greymatter templates.

All that I have left to do, really, is just add the content (some from the old site, some new stuff), get the store configured and open, and then I'm ready to go!

I think that once I get some press, and get hooked up on some search engines, this site will really take off.

Cool.

Going to sleep now.

Posted by Wil at 3:13 AM | Permalink

Today, I created the frameset, set the style sheet, and got the basic structure of the site laid out.

Now I have to add all the content, and get the store running.

I've reached a plateau on editing the Greymatter templates, but I'm close to getting past it.

Posted by Wil at 1:12 AM | Permalink