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70% and rising

I'm guess I'm up to about 70% of normal, which is a real relief. My doctor gave me clearance to go out in public again, so I've been able to go to the store and help out a little bit around the house.

I still get super tired pretty quickly, so I'm taking lots of naps, but I've got enough base energy to read and write, so I can get back to work on my new books this week, and I'll be able to ship out all the Just A Geeks that were ordered through the fundraiser. I wish I could have gotten them all out sooner, but at least I'll be hitting the 6 week mark of the 4 to 6 weeks I promised.

Over the last two weeks, I've spent a lot of time thinking about where my energy is going, both physically and emotionally, and I've decided that it's important for me to redraw some boundaries and refocus my energy . . . my life has been severely out of Balance for the last six months or so, and I think it's a big part of why I got so sick. So I'm making some changes to my life, including my blog and other creative commitments. I'll write more about that next week, because I'm going to walk Ferris to the stop sign now. That's funny — it's like we're doing physical therapy together.

sure . . . I'll get right on that . . .

Looks like I'm running for Vice President in thirteen years.

fundraiser geeks now shipping

About 60 Just A Geeks went out in this morning's mail, so if you participated in the WWdN Fundraiser, start checking your mailbox in about four days.

To everyone who has been patient and understanding while your orders got pushed back two full weeks while I was sleeping, thank you :)

I think I will be able to fill all but about five of the orders that came in, based on the stock I have on hand, which is pretty cool.

driver 8

As an actor and writer, husband and father, I have two often-conflicting monkeys on my back: Monkey number one is Creative Monkey. He occasionally digs his claws into my brains, and refuses to let go until something wonderful comes out. I love him. Monkey number two is Pragmatic Monkey. He regularly wraps his prehensile tail around my neck and only eases his grip when I'm doing the things I need to do to support my family. I don't necessarily love him, but I'm glad he's here. From time to time, I can satiate both monkeys, like writing Games of Our Lives, working on CSI, or touring with Earnest Borg9. More often than not, though, I can only satisfy one monkey at a time, and when push comes to shove, Pragmatic Monkey always wins; with a family to support, I just don't have the luxury of turning my back on him. For the last few years, I've been luckily enough to to strike a Balance that makes both Monkeys happy . . . but for most of this year, Pragmatic Monkey has been squeezing the everlivingfuck out of me, and in an effort to make him happy, I've ended up taking on far too many responsibilities, and given away way far too much of myself to other people. I've rarely seen Creative Monkey, let alone felt his wonderful claws in my brains, and that's got to change. I miss him.

I believe that everything happens for a reason, and I believe that I didn't come down with a crippling case of mono that forced me to bring my life to a complete halt just because The Universe hit a two-outer on the River to take me down. So over the last couple of weeks, I've taken a very hard look at my life, and looked for The Lesson. After a lot of soul-searching, and long talks with the two most important women in my life (my wife and my mother) I've come to the following conclusion: I'm tired. Really, really tired. I guess it's appropriate that I got mono, because my body physically manifested what I've felt emotionally for a long time.

Call it what you want: over-extended, spread too thin, burned-out . . . the bottom line is, in an effort to put lots of irons in the fire, help some people out, and increase my opportunities to retire in style at the age of 25, I've given too much of myself to other people, and there hasn't been enough left over for me and the people I love. The scary thing is, if I hadn't had to cancel the Red Hat Summit appearance, I may not have realized it until it was too late. When I had to cancel the Red Hat Summit, I was shocked, that, rather than expressing compassion and understanding, I was called "unprofessional," and a lot of people got very upset with me, because my health prevented me from speaking at their precious conference, and it made them "look bad." I felt like I wasn't even a person anymore. I felt like I was an object, a commodity, a number. For months, something had been bothering me, and I couldn't put my finger on it. It was like seeing something out of the corner of my eye that vanished whenever I tried to look directly at it, but it suddenly came into focus: I have felt, for a very long time, like people wanted a piece of me, and I'd willingly given it up. I was filled with empty spaces. I had to take a step back, and redraw my boundaries. To quote my favorite TV show of all time: "I am not a number, I am a person."

There are so many things I want to do, and I haven't had time to do them. I want to plant a garden. I want to walk my dog every morning. I want to write fiction. I want to finish the two books I'm working on, so I can get into the third. I want to play more poker. I want to take my wife out on dates. Mostly, though, I don't want to miss out on what little time I have left with my stepkids before they fly right out of the nest in a couple of years. I was working my ass off to provide enough financial security to do all those things, but I had hardly anything to show for it. I was undervaluing myself and my work, and at the end of each day, I was emotionally exhausted and I couldn't even think about enjoying time with my family. All the while, these people who had gotten a small piece of me — some of them business associates, many of them random Internet readers — kept demanding more and more and more.

When I was so sick about ten days ago, I had a fever-induced epiphany: I needed to make several changes in my life. I needed to redefine some boundaries, and re-organize my priorities.

So let's get to it. The first thing I have to do is refocus my creative energy, which brings the following changes:

1. I have written my last column for Dungeon. When I started, I was under the impression that I could write whatever I wanted, as long as it was related to gaming. So I wrote about games I love, like Illuminati and Car Wars. I wrote about playing Magic with Nolan, convention gaming, and playing True Dungeon at SoCal GenCon last year. I really enjoyed writing the columns, but the feedback I got was largely negative (it's really time to just get the fuck over Star Trek, nerds), so Erik Mona, my editor at Dungeon, asked me to write columns that were focused purely on D&D. I tried my best, but my life was just too full to put in the time that running or participating in a campaign requires. It was very hard to write a column about D&D when I couldn't play at least once a week, so I told Erik last week that I felt that I couldn't provide the quality and consistency that he and Dungeon readers deserve, and he graciously accepted my resignation. I loved working for Erik, who is a fantastic editor, and I will continue to read both Dungeon and Dragon, which I feel have improved tremendously under his leadership. I'm sad that I can't be part of it any longer.
2. I've resigned from igrep. I like the people who created it very much, and I completely believe in their technology — if you're a developer, and you're not using igrep, you're wasting a lot of time — but it's clear to me that I can't provide the services that they need from a spokesman, and it's best for everyone if I invest my time and energy somewhere else.
3. I am not doing any more conventions this year. I don't have anything new to offer in terms of creative content right now, and I'm not going to go out and rehash the same old shit. It's boring for me, and the audience deserves something better. So I'm taking the rest of the year off to work on new material.

Hopefully, these changes will allow me to reclaim a lot of time and energy that I can spend with my family, tending that garden, and writing.

I also need to make some fairly significant changes to my blog. I have to keep perspective and focus: I write this blog because it's fun and enjoyable, and ultimately I have to write it for me, and I have to write in a way that keeps me comfortable. There's this guy named Paul Phillips, who the poker pros call "Dot Com," because he made a megatillion quatloos during the dotcom boom. He retired in style, and became a seriously good poker player. He also writes one of the greatest blogs (actually a live journal) that I have ever read, and I don't say that with any hyperbole. He writes about poker, other players, technology, geeky things, and his baby girl with wonderful, honest, prose. But he's got his boundaries, which he makes very clear. His Live Journal helped me come to the conclusion that I could redefine my boundaries and still have a blog worth reading and writing. For example, his FAQ is unambiguous and makes it clear that he's not interested in any bullshit. It doesn't mean he's a dick, it just means that he knows what his boundaries are and that he'll defend them. I respect that more than I can possibly put into words, and I intend to follow his example. (Though I probably wouldn't have folded that Queen-high flush to TJ Cloutier at the Bike, when only two cards in the deck beat me ;). I've also read and thought about another blogger I respect, Tony Pierce. Tony recently wrote a great post about what happens when bloggers experience blogger burnout. At one time or another, I have been guilty of every single entry on his list, right up until today. Starting right now, I will change that. I don't think everyone is going to be happy with these changes, but I think that will say more about the individual than it does about me. In fact, if you see me as a fellow blogger, writer, stepparent, privacy advocate, spouse, pet owner, poker player, [whatever] aficionado, geek, or human being, I'm pretty sure you're going to understand all of these things. As a matter of fact, if these changes upset or offend you, you should probably not be reading WWdN in the first place, and I hope you'll leave.

1. I hate Reality TV, and I feel like my blog is dangerously close to crossing the line from " this interesting thing happened to me" to "come with me while I take a shit in the woods." I need to tell more stories, and bear less soul. You know what I've learned about The Internets? It's full of freaks, and if a high-profile person bears too much soul, they really come out of the woodwork and latch on. It's a little creepy. So, I need to reclaim a lot of myself for myself and my friends and family. If that means people stop reading WWdN, I'm really okay with that. In fact, I hope it has a bit of a Darwin effect.
2. When I get the redesign launched, there will be minimal advertising. I'm doing this because I believe I've found a tasteful and non-intrusive way to help support my family. I will never allow WWdN to become a billboard, and I will never allow my writing to be influenced by, or secondary to advertising or sponsorship. I do plan to enter a few affiliate programs, and if I ever link to something that could go through one of those programs, I'll do it. Again, I'm sure this won't sit well with everyone. Deal.
3. As my blog has grown out of my control in the last year, and taken on a life of its own, I have self-censored several times. Mostly, it's when I want to rage about what a colossal fucking liar George W. Bush is, what a disgrace he is to my country, and how the mainstream corporate media have completely failed to hold him and his administration accountable for countless lies. I'm a passionate person, and I'm passionate about politics. I'm going to write about it, and I'm not going to pull any punches. It won't be my primary focus, and I will never be as great a political blog as The Moderate Voice, Josh Marshall or Atrios, but I've turned away from political posts for too long. If the world were a bar, America would currently be the angry drunk waving around a loaded gun. Yeah, the other people in the bar may be afraid of him, but they sure as hell don't respect him. And as soon as he drops that gun, he's going to get his ass handed to him. I'd rather my country be respected than feared, and I'm going to do whatever I can, however small, to make that happen.
4. I will move most of my Los Angeles-specific content to blogging.la, including news about local readings, ACME performances, and the like. I estimate that there are less than one hundred local readers, so it makes more sense to put local stuff on a local site.
5. Because I make my living by writing, I'm going to focus most of my time and energy on completing the books I've got in production, even if that means I write fewer blogs (though I have noticed that it's almost axiomatic that when a blogger says, "I'm going to blog less" that they actually blog more). However, I'm not going to keep material off my blog because I'm planning on including it in a future book. I've already written a successful book, Dancing Barefoot, that was entirely composed of previously-published material, and Just A Geek would have been even more successful if O'Reilly hadn't mis-marketed it so badly, against my wishes and advice. I'm not worried about losing book sales because some, most, or even all of the material is available on my blog. I believe 100% in the Long Tail, and I owe much of my success to it.

Still here? Not foaming at the mouth in anger and resentment? Cool. I'm happy, and I'd like to close by sharing a few very cool things that I'm adding to my life:

• For the month of June, I am guest-editing the Technology section of the SuicideGirls newswire. (Newswire is Safe For Work, the rest of the site is not.) I will be putting up about three new technology stories every day this month.
• I'm also guest-blogging for the poker blog pPlayer.com this month. I haven't posted anything at pPlayer, yet, but I plan on running some book reviews, as well as some interviews with well-known pros, poker bloggers, and authors. Both of these gigs allow the two Monkeys on my back to happily intersect: I get to write about things I love, and I get to support my family a little bit by doing it.
• I'm putting the finishing touches on a podcast. I'm not going to go into any details, because several things are up in the air, but I think it's going to be pretty damn cool.

If you've gotten this far, I probably don't need to say this, but here it goes anyway: I love writing my blog, and I'm grateful beyond words that so many people have continued to read it through the feasts and famines over the past few years. By making these changes, and announcing them so bluntly, I don't intend to disrespect or take for granted any of the people who have come with me on the journey from Has-been to Hope-to-be. My need to pull back a little bit and keep a bit more of my life to myself also isn't intended to disrespect or insult any of the thousands of people who have commented or e-mailed their appreciation of my willingness to be open and honest. In fact, I will continue to be open and honest because that's the only way I know how to live an honorable and respectable life. (Ironically, it was that openness and honesty that earned me the "unprofessional" charge. Nice.) I just plan to be a little more selective in the things I choose to write about. Like I said, if you've gotten this far, I'm sure you understand.

I'd like to close with a little blast from the past . . . a thought for the day:

A small leak will sink a great ship
-Anonymous

Thanks for reading. :)

voices ring the halls

There is a Reuters story in Wired News today about the settlement reached between SAG actors and video game producers.

SAN FRANCISCO -- Hollywood actors unions have reached a contract deal with video game publishers, accepting higher pay instead of the profit-sharing they had demanded, the unions said Wednesday, removing the threat of a strike.

The three-and-a-half-year agreements with game companies came as the Screen Actors Guild and American Federation of Television and Radio Artists were preparing to announce the results of a strike vote.

Unions had sought to win profit-sharing, known as residual payments, from game publishers.

This may seem like stupid semantics on my part, but actors are so often misrepresented in the press, I feel it's important to set the record straight here. Residual payments are not profit-sharing. Residual payments are reuse fees that producers pay to actors when they've re-used the actor's performance a certain number of times.

For example, when an actor works on a TV show (commercials are a much more complicated beast, so I'll stick with TV for this example) the initial fee that actor earns usually includes one or two re-airings by the producer. If the producer chooses to run the show again, a cycle begins, where the producer pays the actor a residual, or re-use fee, that slowly diminishes over time. The logic behind this is that if producers are re-running an old show, rather than creating a new one, actors have fewer opportunities to work. Also, if a show is re-run very often, the producer will continue to profit from advertising sales, while the actor gets over-exposed as one character, which can severely hurt that actor's chances of being hired in different roles. I suppose one could make the argument that, in that case, it is profit-sharing, but I think that's largely semantic as well. The point is, producers and actors have had this residual payment agreement for my entire career, and it's not exactly a controversial issue.

Profit-sharing, on the other hand, is entirely different from residual payment. True profit-sharing, which is usually a percentage based on the amount of money a film earns, isn't addressed by SAG contracts, which only set minimum wages and working conditions for actors. Profit-sharing has to be negotiated, and the only actors who can grab that brass ring are superstars like Tom Hanks or Julia Roberts.

As I understood the video game negotiations, SAG wasn't asking for per-unit payments from video game producers. The proposal I read and supported asked for an additional session fee, after the game in question had sold a minimum of 50,000 copies and was profitable. Yeah, that sure seems unreasonable, doesn't it? Especially since actors account for something like 2% of the average game's budget.

Anyway, the gains we made are not that great, but they don't completely suck, either:

• An immediate 25 percent increase in minimum wages from $556 to $695 for a four-hour session for up to three voices with increases in subsequent years, bringing the daily rate up to $759.
• Double time pay after six hours (previously ten hours) for three-voice performers.
• A 7.5 percent increase in contributions to the unions' benefits plans, bringing the rate up to 14.3 percent.

I'm very happy about the increase in contributions to the benefits plans, and it's great that 25% of the increase comes right away (usually it's spread out over three years) but I really wish we'd gotten some sort of residual structure in place.

Before some readers freak out that I don't think $695 for four hours is very good, let me put this into perspective: in those four hours, we usually do several hundred takes, often screaming and yelling. It's hard work, and we deserve to be compensated for it. But the thing is, most voice actors are lucky to work three or four of these jobs a year, so when the year is up, most of us are looking at under 3,000 dollars earned from games that gross several million. That seems a little out of balance to me. Before this contract, SAG actors hadn't had an increase in minimums in twelve years. Producers can afford to pay actors more, and they should.

And while I'm talking about things producers should do: I'm really sick and tired of employers and non-actors lecturing actors about how useless and replaceable we are. If it's so easy to replace us with Dave from Human Resources, then go for it. Otherwise, show us just a tiny bit of respect for the craft we practice, and the value we provide to your movies, TV shows, commercials, and, yes, video games.

I recently reviewed Area 51 for The Onion AV Club, which meant that I played it for about 7000 hours in three days. The gameplay is great, and I enjoyed it . . . but the story made it more than just another shooter, and it was the reason I kept playing until the end. And guess what? If you watch the "making of" features, you'll discover that just about everyone at the company thought it was important to hire actors who could bring "unique" voices to their characters, like Marilyn Manson, David Duchovny, and Powers Boothe. Maybe I'm wrong, but I seriously doubt that Kenny, the Hot Topic kid from the IT department, could bring the same energy and creepiness to the project as Marilyn Manson.

When I read Xeni's story in Wired about the pending strike last week, I was really sad to discover that programmers and developers had largely taken an "us vs. them" attitude regarding the actors who bring their characters to life:

"I'll back (the actors) when game programmers and artists get residuals first," said Mark Long, co-CEO of independent game-development company Zombie Studios. "(They're) nuts if they think they deserve residuals for a half-day of voice-over work," said Long. "A development team (might) slave away for two years to produce a title."

If a development team is "slaving away" for two years, and not getting properly compensated for it, what does that have to do with actors? It sounds to me like we're both after the same thing: increased wages that reflect the value we bring to the title, which we all feel the most successful game producers can afford to pay. As Peter Babakitis said,

"When gamers think that actors are out of line for asking points, then you are also preventing programmers, writers, level artists and everyone else from asking for participation. When actors get points, then perhaps programmers, artists and writers might not be that far behind -- and game production might suddenly become competitive internationally again."

Again, I don't believe we were asking for points, per se, but I appreciate and agree with the sentiment.

Developers: We're on the same side, guys, and by playing into "Actors vs. Developers," you've let the game producers divide and conquer us. If you're getting screwed, why not organize a union? I seriously doubt they could replace programmers, designers, and developers with Becky and Don from ad sales. You've got to believe in yourself, and not undervalue the importance of your contribution to the final product. We should be talking about the common goals we have, and how we can reach then, rather than arguing about who is more important.

sarge goes stable

I'm a couple of days behind on this, but I wanted to mention that Debian Sarge has officially gone stable.

This is really exciting news, and I suggest anyone who is interested in running Linux celebrate by giving Debian a try. I built my current system using their phenomenal network-install, which is probably the easiest way to go until Ian Murdock finishes Progeny.

Congratulations, thanks, and a kettle of tasty fish to the whole Debian developer team, who have worked tirelessly to create one of the greatest free distros in the world.

ghosts appear and fade away

From the guess-what-I-totally-forgot-about department:

• I'll be on the Computer America radio show tonight. Tune in at 10PM EDT. It's a call-in show, and it's always cool to talk with WWdN readers.

From the I've-got-a-new-favorite-rss-reader department:

Bloglines. It's web-based, so I can freely move from computer to computer, the notifier for Firefox is awesome, and you can share subscriptions with like-minded people.It's also free, and free is my favorite price for anything.

From the shuffle-up-and-deal department:

• Dr. Pauly, from Tao of Poker, is live-blogging the entire World Series of Poker. The live updates are great, but my favorite bits have been his observations on living in Las Vegas:

  "I also have a white trash family of 18 living in a one bedroom apartment next door to me. Every morning at 10am is "Red Neck Family Hour" in my complex, which is complete with drunken arguments, a slap fight, and several malnourished kids running rampant in front of my window. Yeah, my apartment is in a flavorful place. I have this freaky feeling that someone's homemade meth lab in the adjacent building unit is going to blow up and all my WSOP notes will be destroyed."

• The Poker Prof has the best WSOP photo gallery on the web.
• Phil Gordon is one of the nicest people I've ever met. When I played in the WPT Championship, Phil gave me great advice between levels, and helped me analyze many of the hands I played. HisWSOP Podcast is fantastic. It's very accessable, too. If you don't play yourself, but enjoy watching poker on television, I think you'll find it informative and entertaining.

From the it's-about-time department:

• The Cubs will play the Red Sox this weekend . . . for the first time since 1918. ESPN's Tim Kurkjian gives us all the history between the two teams. I can't wait to watch these games.

From the she's-grows-up-and-grows-up-and-grows-up department:

• Remember when I asked everyone to go fark the vote for Danica? Behold, the power of the monkey.

on tenth floor

Since I wrote about voice actors the other day, I've been personally attacked, called names, and vilified all over the Internets, often by people whose work I respect and admire. I'm not under the delusion that I'm going to change any minds, but this has bothered me all weekend, so I want to just clarify a couple of things:

1. I am proud of my union, and I completely support my fellow working actors. I'm not going to apologize for that. However, I've read several other blogs, and comments on my own blog, which suggest that I believe that actors should get paid before or instead of the other people who work on the game. I never said that, and I don't feel that way.
2. Most actors don't live in huge mansions, drive around in expensive cars, and live the lifestyle many people seem to think we do. I, for example, still live paycheck to paycheck. I'm not complaining, just trying to correct what I believe is a serious misconception.
3. For many of the actors who are affected by this contract, the raise they will get — the first in twelve years — could make the difference between having health coverage, or being uninsured. I think that's pretty important.
4. I completely respect and admire the people who work so hard to create the games that we all love to play. The blog I wrote, from a working actor's perspective, was in no way meant to demean or disrespect the people who are currently very busy attacking me, my union, and my fellow actors. Without you guys, there wouldn't even be a game for us to perform in, much less play. I sincerely hope that you all get the recognition and compensation that you clearly deserve.

I'd also like to reprint a few things I wrote to a developer whose work I very much enjoy and admire:

I completely support developers getting seriously improved wages, including profit-sharing. As many have pointed out, without the developers, there is no game, so when a game (or the engine that drives it) really takes off, the people who created the damn thing
should absolutely share in the profits their hard work helped create.

It seems like many developers are angry with SAG because SAG stood up for its members, which is what a union is supposed to do. It just doesn't make any sense to me that SAG is being viewed with such animosity, just for doing its job. Actors represent less than 3% of the total budget on games, so it's incredibly unlikely that if SAG were able to make some residual gains, it would even affect developers' pay. I could be wrong, but I seriously doubt that producers are going to tell developers that they can't afford to pay them, because actors are now taking up 4.5% or 5% of the budget.

SAG doesn't have it out for developers, and neither do I. SAG doesn't want actors to profit at the expense of developers, and neither do I. To be honest, I bet you that the SAG negotiating committee didn't spend any time thinking about developers — not because SAG doesn't respect the incredibly hard work developers do, but because SAG is an actors union, and is therefore focused on actors' interests.

I don't understand what developers gain by spending energy attacking SAG, when SAG is just doing what its membership expects it to do. As far as I can tell, voice actors and developers have the same ultimate goal, and I just don't get why developers are so angry with SAG for trying to reach that goal. It seems like a lot of developers and gamers are pissed at SAG because SAG has the ability to stand up to our employers and ask for better wages, and from an Art of War standpoint, that is an awfully huge waste of energy. It makes much more sense to me for developers to take that energy and those resources, point it at producers, and take the fight to them. Because, ultimately, getting angry at SAG, or me, or other working actors, isn't going to get developers better contracts or profit-sharing. All it's going to do is take focus away from the people who can make those things happen.

As I said, I don't expect this to change any minds, but I hope it clarifies some things, at least a little bit. But just to belabor one point, because this is incredibly important to me: I did not intend to disrespect, discount, or demean developers, level designers, artists, programmers, or any of the people who put thousands of hours into the games they help create. I know what it feels like when someone insults and belittles the work you do, and if I caused anyone to feel that way, I sincerely apologize.

on green dolphin street

When I was couch-bound the last couple of weeks, I watched a lot of movies, and I thought it would be fun to do a few mini-reviews:

• The Longest Day (1962) — Before Saving Private Ryan and Band of Brothers, this was the closest a non-combatant could get to the D-day invasion. I am a huge fan of Band of Brothers, and it was great to see one of the films in its family tree. I especially loved the performances from Robert Mitchum and John Wayne. Like Midway, all the non-English speaking characters are subtitled, which gave it a docudrama feel that I enjoyed. The title isn't misleading, though. This film is l o n g, so get comfortable.
• Bullitt (1968) — If you think, as I did, that this is just about a great car chase, you're missing out. Robert Vaughn turns in a fantastic performance as the guy you're not quite sure you can trust, Steve McQueen is as cool and unflappable (without being aloof) as ever, and I have a crush on the 1968 version of Jacqueline Bissett. The DVD that I have includes a couple of cool features about the making of the movie, produced when the film was in production, that help a 2005 audience understand how ground-breaking this film was.
• California Split (1974) — Contrary to what I expected, this is not a simple gambling movie; this is a movie about two incredibly loveable losers, played to perfection by Elliot Gould and George Segal, who happen to be compulsive gamblers. The acting, story, and direction are fantastic. All the actors feel like real people, and the whole thing has such an air of authenticity, the audience could feel like it was just along for the ride with these guys, if Altman could just let the camera sit still for a second. It's constantly pushing in or pulling out, and just when I started to feel like I was witnessing real, flawed, fascinating people . . . the damn camera would make some unnecessary move and scream, "Hey! You're watching a movie!" I still think it's a great film, though. I can't say enough about the improvisation between Elliot Gould and George Segal, and Gwen Welles is outstanding. If you like character-driven movies, I think you'll enjoy this one.
• Night of the Hunter (1955) — Also known as the Robert Mitchum "Love" and "Hate" tattoo movie. This film disturbed me the same way that "Who's Afraid of Virginia Woolfe?" did, but for entirely different reasons. Robert Mitchum plays a bad, bad man, who claims to be a preacher, but is actually a con-man and thief. When he finds out that his cell-mate Ben Johnson (played wonderfully by Peter Graves)'s family has $10,000 hidden somewhere in their possession, he tries to get the cash by marrying Johnson's widow. Trouble is, the widow (Shelly Winters) doesn't know where the money is — that knowledge is held in the heads of her small children, who were sworn to secrecy by their father before he was arrested. Winters is amazing as the woman who is so afraid of becoming a spinster she'll marry Mitchum, who oozes as much malevolence as the devil himself. I won't spoil any of the story, because it's one of the most suspenseful things I've ever watched. A+++++++ Will Do Business Again!!!1
• The Cincinnati Kid 1965 — I wasn't trying to have a Steve McQueen-a-thon, I swear. I just figured that if I couldn't play poker, at least I could watch what is almost universally considered to be the best poker movie of them all (yes, that includes Rounders) Okay, after Bullitt, The Great Escape, The Magnificent Seven, and The Cincinnati Kid, I totally have a not-gay crush on Steve McQueen. I wish I could be 1/8 as cool as he is . . . and those eyes! You know how "Nobody fucks with the Jesus?" Well, nobody fucks with the Steve McQueen, either, if they know what's good for them. Karl Malden, Edward G. Robinson, and Ann Margaret give flawless performances in this film about a hot poker player (McQueen) who takes on a player so amazing, he's simply known as "The Man" (Robinson). I have this thing for characters who are deeply flawed, yet sympathetic, and Karl Malden, as McQueen's friend Shooter, is one of the greatest I've ever seen. Ann Margaret is so sexy, so sultry, and so much trouble . . . and that's all I'll say about that. Rip Torn and Joan Blondell round out a superb cast, and Norman Jewison, who also did . . . And Justice For All and the original, superior-to-the-remake-in-nearly-every-way The Thomas Crown Affair (and I'm not just saying that because it stars my hero Steve McQueen) knows when to be subtle, and when to really let us have it. My DVD has a very entertaining commentary from Dave Foley and Phil Gordon on the poker scenes, that even non-poker players will enjoy. Poker players, on the other hand, almost certainly wait for the day when they hit their one-outer and get to say, "That's what it's all about, isn't it? Making the wrong move at the right time?"
• Star Wars (1977) — A long time ago, in a galaxy far, far away, George Lucas still cared about story and characters. The remastered DVD is gorgeous, and Empire of Dreams could make a weaker person forget about Episode One.

I also watched a whole bunch of WSOP 2004 and 2003 reruns on ESPN, and almost the entire second season of World Poker Tour on DVD. I know that I watched more than six movies, but they've blurred together into a medication-woven Gerald Scarfe / Ralph Steadman tapestry that I think is best left undisturbed.

possum kingdom

I signed, and Anne helped me pack, label, and stamp the remaining fundraiser book orders this weekend.

We just got back from the post office, where we shipped the domestic fundraiser book orders — if you haven't gotten your book yet, look for it in 3-5 days. I forgot that even though it's just a book, I have to fill out customs forms and crap, so the international (including Canada) orders will go out tomorrow. Sorry :(

We did all the math last night, and the fundraiser completely covered all the office visits and medication for Felix, Sketch, and Ferris, with was just under $500 left over. Anne and I rounded that up to $500, and we are donating it to a no-kill shelter later this week. I don't know if the shelter wants the attention, so unless they give me permission, I won't disclose their name.

My deepest, and most sincere thanks to everyone who bought books, and my apologies to the five of you who had to get refunds because we ran out.

i am not a number! i am, rather, a series of numbers, painted across my fingernails

This comes from Warren Ellis' blog (which I am stunned to realize wasn't in my RSS subscriptions until about 42 seconds ago), via boingboing.

Quoth Xeni:"This is so 0111001101110111011001010110010101110100."

do they wear plaid in china? or leather in bombay?

A week ago, while I folded clothes and put laundry away, I realized that most of my T-shirts were pretty much worn out.

So I decided to do a little online shopping at Think Geek.

I picked up a couple of cool shirts, including The Geek Workshirt and The Wargames T-shirt. I got a T-shirt for Ryan that says "Schrödinger's Cat is dead" on the front, and "Schrödinger's Cat is alive" on the back, and I picked up this hilarious shirt for myself that says

> SELECT * FROM users WHERE clue > 0
0 rows returned.

I decided that I'd wear my hilarious SQL query shirt today, so when I got out of the shower, I grabbed it off the counter, pulled it on over my head . . . and realized that I'd put it on backwards.

0 rows returned, indeed.

Happy Father's Day, Dad!

I'd like to take a moment on this beautiful Sunday morning to wish my dad a Happy Father's Day. I love you, Dad.

And a Happy Father's Day to all you other dads out there, especially my fellow stepdads. I don't know what it's like for you guys, but Father's Day always feels a little weird for me, because it's the only day in the entire year that I really feel like I'm just the backup goalie.

So, from one stepdad to another, I salute you, my brothers. :)

freakin' sweet!

All you Family Guy fans, get ready to have a sexy party:

LOS ANGELES (Hollywood Reporter) - "Family Guy" creator Seth MacFarlane is preparing his long-awaited direct-to-DVD movie based on the exploits of his cartoon clan for a Sept. 27 release.

"It's been an enormous undertaking to juggle this with doing 35 new episodes of the show, but we think it turned out great," MacFarlane said of the film, his first full-length feature, and the first direct-to-video ever made off a television franchise.

The 83-minute, unrated "Family Guy Presents Stewie Griffin: The Untold Story" ($29.98) is based on the animated series MacFarlane created for Fox Television in the late 1990s. The irreverent series, aimed at adults rather than kids, went on the air in early 1999 and was canceled in 2003, only to be resurrected last month after an overwhelming demand for the show on DVD.

on the first day of summer, my true love called me . . .

Anne is spending the day with her friend and her friend's daughter, out at some health club that's allegedly got a really nice set of swimming pools. She just called me and said, "I know you're writing, but I just had to tell you — I'm sitting here between a little kid pool, and the regular pool, and there are these two little girls in the little kid pool. One of them just said to the other, 'Well, I don't want to pee in this pool. Let's go into the big people pool.' And they did."

"So I guess you're not swimming today?" I said.

"Probably not." She said.

"Unless you go in the little kid ool," I said. "I hear that there's no 'P' in it."

"You did not just say that," She said.

"Hey, they don't swim in your toilet . . ."

"I'm hanging up now," she said. I could hear a smile in her voice. "I love you."

"I love you too."

pink champagne and swimming pools

Back when I installed Debian, I backed up my entire old /home directory into /home/oldmachine/ and promised myself I'd get to it later.

Well, today, apparently, was later. I cleaned up a ton of duplicate and out-dated files (I had WWdN backed up in four different places. Yeah, that makes sense . . . thank god I know how to use diff) and felt very satisfied when I was done. I suddenly found myself with a nice, organized filesystem. No more chasing those goddamn rabbits with locate for me, George!

I guess it felt really good to clean up the virtual workspace, because before I even realized I was doing it, I had pulled four of my five desk drawers out, and started cleaning them up. Holy crap, did I have a lot of stuff in there that I don't even know why I saved . . . there were a few bittersweet items in there, which I will hopefully be able to turn into a nice bit of writing.

In my second drawer, all the way in the back beneath a stack of Obey Giant stickers, I found one of those two-sided CD sleeves, and it had three CDs in it: on one side, I had an early draft of Just A Geek in .sxw format, and in the other side I had Bob Marley's Exodus and Primus' Pork Soda.

Though it's been all REM all the time for the last 36 hours, I've been listening to Pork Soda today . . . and I forgot what a fucking brilliant album this is. Now I have to go dig through all my CDs (I never get rid of them, so I've accumulated about 10,000 since I bought Kiss Me, Kiss Me, Kiss Me back in the 1990) and find Sailing the Seas of Cheese. Man, Primus sucks!

Perhaps we'll have some fun tonight so stick around and take a bite of life
We don't need feebleness in this proximity . . .

shuffle up . . .

Big news coming to this space, in the next 24 hours.

Update: . . . and deal.

This is so awesome, and I'm so excited, I don't know where to begin. I'll have to write more about it tomorrow, though. I've been writing without a break for almost twelve hours, and I seriously need to get away from the damn computer.

action dan

Dan Harrington won the WSOP in 1995, and made back-to-back final tables in 2003 and 2004. His two books are the best guides to tournament play I've ever read, and by studying them, my game has improved tremendously. I've learned so much from him, I've got a lot of excitement to go along with the terror about playing in the WSOP.

I listened to the Lord Admiral podcast this afternoon while I mowed the backyard, and found out that Barry Greenstein has a website, where he ranks several of the top players, as well as some celebrities who he's played with. At the end of each player ranking, he shares an anecdote about the player.

They're all great, but I absolutely loved this anecdote about "Action Dan":

When Dan made it to the final table of the 1995 World Series of Poker, he proposed a nine-way settlement to the other players. He explained how they would each get enough money that they could invest it and be rich. Chuck Thompson, one of the players and a friend of mine, rejected the idea and told the other players that this was a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity to make a million dollars. One by one, as each player got knocked out, Dan tried to sell the idea, even offering investment counseling. There were no takers and eventually Dan came away with the full million.

event forty-two

Holy shit, it's really happening:

Mr. Wil Wheaton,

Congratulations! The World Series of Poker is the most prestigious Poker event
in the World. This is your receipt for $10,000 for your deposit for WSOP Event #42. Your randomly assigned, computer generated first day of play is Thursday, July 7, 2005 at 11:00 a.m.

Upon your arrival at The RIO, to finalize your reservation and to receive your table and seat assignment, please visit the "Will Call" window located in the Tournament Area. You must complete your tournament registration at least one hour prior to your event. Please be prepared to provide proof of identity via a Drivers License, Passport or Military I.D.

This year's WSOP events will no doubt be the largest and the most exciting Poker Event in history. Harrah's continues to lead the industry in creating an innovative gaming experience for valued guests. Harrah's and the Tournament Staff sincerely wish you "GOOD LUCK" and we look forward to seeing you at the final table.

Robert Daily
Manager, Tournament Poker

pablo at the park

I spent much of last week writing, editing, and rewriting my seven month overdue "Ask Wil Wheaton Anything Part Deux" answers for Slashdot. I don't want to steal /.'s thunder, but I just happened upon something that supports one of my answers, so I'm going to steal just a tiny little bit right now.

I was asked a question about doing creative things without getting crushed by "the system" in the process. Part of my answer is:

Here is the most important thing I can tell you: You do not need the so-called traditional channels of distribution to get your work to an audience, and you'll probably be happier and more successful by not going through those channels. I've done it both ways, and self-publishing and distributing was more fun, more creatively satisfying, and much more financially rewarding than the indescribably frustrating process of doing it the other way.

Because I'm so picky about music, I've always relied on word of mouth to find new stuff that doesn't suck. Ten years ago, I spent a lot of time wading through a bunch of crap on KXLU or Rodney on the Roq, hoping to discover a couple of good new bands, and occasionally I'd luck out with a great opening act at a concert, (like when I saw Redd Kross open for The Butthole Surfers way back in 1992, or CornMo open for They Might Be Giants last year). In this Brave New World of media consolidation, it should be harder than ever to find new stuf . . . but thanks to The Internets, the opposite is true. Earlier today, I came upon a band called AeonSpoke. GrapeJuicePlus describes them as "a bit of Radiohead, a bit of Blur, a lot of good stuff." I couldn't agree more. The band has made a couple of their tracks available as MP3 files on their website. Here are my two favorites:

• Emmanuel
• No Answers

Ten years ago, I never would have found out about this band, or been able to buy their music, unless a major label picked them up — and they're from right here in California! Thanks to The Internets, this band has been able to take the traditional means of distribution out of the equation, and bring their music directly to me, the audience. That is why this whole revolution is so goddamn cool.

just a geek charity auction, ends july seventh

Last year, I donated an autographed Dancing Barefoot to a charity auction benefitting St. Jude's Children's Research Hospital.

This year, I donated an autographed Just A Geek. If you're interested in getting an autographed copy, and you'd like to help the children, or your favorite hobby in the world is looking at things on eBay, you can use This Link to the auction to do your thing.

it's the bond, the bond, the bond

I've got a big old interview up at Slashdot today (read at +5 for the best signal:noise ratio), so I'm closing comments until the storm passes.

I also found a few really cool things on the Make Blog this morning that I wanted to share:

• How to make a mosaic from Post-it notes. Man, I wish I had the time and patience to do one of these things!
• The DIY Production Suite — free (as in beer and speech) software that anyone can use to create movies on a budget. This dovetails with what I wrote yesterday about doing things outside of the mainstream.
• Cars that drive where you draw. Draw a line on the ground, and these cool little cars will follow it. They'll understand visual code, too, so you can tell them to speed up for jumps or slow down for curves. Sort of makes the lane changing aspect of my 1981 sltcar set a little less impressive.

screenwiter's blues

Jesus, man. Shane just keeps getting better and better:

During my ten years in Los Angeles, I have visited the Sunset Strip a handful of times. In my first year here, I was convinced that Hollywood Deals® happened within the "glamorous" nightlife of Hollywood. I showed up to places like Union and SkyBar, convinced that I'd find a door into the action; a route into "Hollywood, The Machine," not just "Hollywood, The City." "Hollywood, The City," as viewed from a depressing little apartment across the street from a fire station on Sierra Bonita, was not what I had imagined. Surely "Hollywood, The Machine" would be waiting for me in a dark bar tucked underneath the billboards and street lights. After all, Hollywood is decadent and shallow, so the key to cracking it's hull surely resided within it's nerve center: The Sunset Strip. Even before trucker hats and pithy clothing slogans, The Strip provided me no such door into the action. Instead, it taunted me with its money and lip gloss. Beautiful, empty people stared past me waiting for someone important they hadn't yet met as I envied their money and clothing and ability to blend into such a hip scene without having to worry about whether the whole place was wondering if your flannel shirt was intentional or tragic.

I don't want to be a "celebrity" blogger. I want to be a blogger who is really a writer, like Tony Pierce and Shane:

In spite of my obvious fashion savviness, I wore a ten-years-too-late western style shirt that a thousand other Urban Outfitters shoppers surely own, and a pseudo-knockoff-vintage tee-shirt from J Crew underneath it. It occured to me as I valet parked my car that my commonness was surely not masked by a 35 dollar daring shirt nor the mass-produced "one of a kind" tee shirt underneath it. I laughed at my own hypocrisy as we thanked the surly doorman who braceletted our arms with wristbands that were the envy of the line of hopefuls outside.

Please to go read Shane's entire entry, aging hipsters. I have not done it justice with these short excerpts.

Hey, Shane, when are you going to write a book, man? All the cool kids are doing it!

(bloglines keeps thinking this post is new. hopefully, adding this pointless bit of text will convince it to think otherwise.)

the seat with the clearest view

I'm frequently asked how I choose the games I write about for Games of Our Lives. Do I randomly pick them out? Do I take suggestions from people? Are they assigned? Do I go out on massive wumpus hunts to find the most obscure ones I can find?

No, yes, no, and no. I mostly choose games that, for one reason or another, are important to me. If a game as been important in my life, I'll consider it for games of our lives. Two recent columns provide good examples. A couple of issues ago, I looked at Wizard of Wor:

It was one of the earliest machines to actually talk to you with creepy, synthesized speech that added as much character to the game as the dark, moody music and graphics. Few people could ignore the command, "Hey, insert coin! Ha. Ha. Ha." In fact, a newly fabricated report shows that between 1980 and 1982, more than 6.3 billion quarters were pumped into Wizard Of Wor machines by destitute gamers who later said, "The game told me to [insert a coin]."

Har.

Yeah, it's a swell game and all . . . but why did I pick Wizard of Wor instead of Berzerk, which also talks?

When I was a kid, I had auditions almost every day after school. It was a predictable routine: mom would pick me up, drive me through Burger King or Taco Bell or something, and we'd head "into town" for my calls. In those days, it was not uncommon for me to have three or four auditions in an afternoon, and they were usually spread out across the city in very inconvenient ways. I'd have a commercial call at 3:45 on Fairfax near Sunset, then a 4:25 call for a movie of the week down in Venice, followed by a 5:10 appointment, back in Hollywood somewhere. It was a brutal grind, and I don't know how my mom did it, day after day after day.

Occasionally, we'd get somewhere early, and we'd have twenty or thirty minutes to kill between auditions. Because it was the early 80s, just about every store in the world had arcade games in it, and if my homework was done, my mom would stop somewhere, give me a dollar and let me play whatever I wanted.

My auditions were in a limited number of places, so I quickly built a mental Rolodex of good games and their locations. In Culver City, it was a donut shop on Washigton: Mr. Do! and Star Castle, with the bonus possibility that mom would let me get a devils food with sprinkles, In North Hollywood, it was a convenience store: Donkey Kong, Pac-Man, and Tempest. In Venice, it was a skanky head shop with one Asteroids Deluxe machine near the cash register.

There were also arcades, but they were mostly in shopping malls, so a trip into one of them was actually quite rare. (In fact, if you watch Fast Times At Ridgemont High or "The Bishop of Battle" segment in Nightmares, you can see one of the best arcades that was inside the Sherman Oaks Galleria.) The one arcade that we got to visit pretty regularly was on Pico near 20th Century Fox. I loved this place because it was never very crowded, I got five tokens for one dollar, and I always felt like I was hanging out with Cool Kids. The way I remember it, songs like Don't Stop Believin', and Tainted Love were ever-present, and there were never any adults around to catch us cussing when we died with one rivet to go on the Ziggaurat level of Donkey Kong.

In late 1982, or early 1983 I had a callback at 20th Century Fox to play the kid who can wish people into cartoon land for Twilight Zone: The Movie. We got to West Los Angeles very early, and my mom let me stop at that arcade. Pico was a busy street, and when I walked out of the hot, bright afternoon sunlight and into the dimly-lit arcade, I left the roar of traffic behind me and entered another world. There were neon and black lights, posters of girls and rockstars, and the faint smell of mildew hung in the cool, recycled air. Runnin' With The Devil blasted out of the jukebox. I carefully smoothed out my one dollar bill, and fed it into the token machine. Familiar excitement and anticipation welled up while it whirred and prepared to spit out five tokens. In the back of the arcade was my intended target: Super Pac-Man. It had recently replaced a Battlezone machine with a flaky controller at Sunland Discount Variety, and I'd stumbled upon a pattern that was virtually fool-proof. I could play for an incredible ten minutes or more on Super Pac-Man, an impressive feat among my group of friends.

Five tokens clanged out of the dispenser, and I eagerly picked them up. I jingled them in my hand as I walked through the arcade. In my memory, I can hear the sounds of Tempest, Space Invaders, and Defender occasionally rise above Van Halen as I pass them. A kid kicks a machine and says, "That's bullshit, man! I fucking shot him!" before an employee shouts, "Hey! Take it easy, guy!" over the pong! pong! pong! ka-chunk! ding! ding! duk-duk-duk-duk-duk! of pre-digital pinball machines.

Just before I got to Super Pac-Man, I passed a tall white machine I'd never seen before. The decals on the side showed a scary, blue-robed warlock with his hand raised. On the marquee, the same wizard shot lightning bolts from his fingertips. I paused to look at it, and it said, "Hey, insert coin! Ha. Ha. Ha."

I looked around. "Holy shit!"I thought, "this thing talks!" Before I knew what I was doing, I'd done as the machine commanded. Creepy synthesized music played and the screen showed me that I could play with three Worriors, or I could insert another coin for seven. "Seven men?! For just two quarters?! Awesome!" I reached into my pocket, but stopped short of buying the additional men. Did I want to risk almost half my tokens on a game I'd never even seen before, much less played? I'd play it once, and reassess my situation when I was done.

For the next few minutes, I was blown away. The game didn't just talk — it was cool! It was a combination of D&D and SciFi. It was like someone had reached into my dreams, found the two things I loved more than anything else in the world, and put the result in front of me. This perfect storm of passions wouldn't happen again until I visited Olympic Gardens when I was 22, but that's all you're ever going to hear about that story.

When I lost my three Worriors, I quickly inserted two more coins and played with seven. I didn't see the feared Wizard of Wor, but I blasted the Worluk, figured out that I could get a thousand points if I killed the other Worrior on the screen, and made it to a level called "The Arena." I got the fifth-place high-score, and didn't even care that I couldn't put my initials into the game. I spent all of my tokens on Wizard of Wor before my mom came in and told me it was time to go on my audition. I talked her ear off the whole way to Fox, all about how cool this talking game was, and how I couldn't wait to play it again.

"I'm glad you enjoyed your game so much, Willow," she said, "but you need to focus on your callback right now."

She was right, and I did focus . . . on how cool that game was, and how much better Van Halen sounded than the Barbara Streisand stuff she had playing in the brown Toyota hatchback that was a second home to us after school each day.

For whatever reason, I hardly ever found Wizard of Wor in other arcades, other than a brief appearance at Shakey's Pizza Parlor on Foothill Boulevard in La Crescenta, so the music, the glittering starfield, the color palette, and the graphic design are all inextricably linked with that arcade on Pico. Whenever I see Wizard of Wor, I am worm-holed back to that hot afternoon in the early 1980s, when I heard a game talk to me for the very first time.

This week, I wrote about one of those "B" list games that I'd play if there wasn't anything else available, or if it was Free Play day at Pinball Plus in La Crescenta, Kangaroo:

Kids today might not like it because: They've grown up in a world where monkeys are cool and hip, not pink, apple-throwing wusses. It could turn their whole world upside down.

Kids today might like it because: It's so weird to assume the role of a boxing kangaroo who fights evil pink monkeys, even the most jaded teenager may feel a twinge of... Ah, who are we kidding? They're probably not going to like it.

Even though Kangaroo is sort of a forgettable game, it will always be special to me because, like Wizard of Wor, it reminds me of a specific time and place in my life: the set of my first feature film, The Buddy System. We shot that movie at 20th Century Fox during the summer of 1983, and the art department had both Kangaroo and Turbo set on free play, and because the sound was turned off, I got to play them whenever I wanted to. That movie was a lot of difficult work. Richard Dreyfuss hadn't gotten sober yet, and many days he just didn't show up for work, so I spent a lot of time playing gin rummy with my aunt, racing cars, and beating up the evil pink monkeys. The director didn't know how to talk to kids, so he just gave me lots of line readings (which annoyed me, even as I neared my eleventh birthday) . . . but when I look back on that summer, what I really remember is the time I spent with Susan Sarandon, who played my mother in the film, and how much fun we had together. She took me under her wing, and treated me like I was her son, colleague, and friend. When the director was a dick, she made it okay. When Richard was looney on the cocaine, she made it okay. But more than anything else, she never talked down to me. She made me feel like I was part of the cast, and I deserved to be there, even though I was just a kid. The only other person to treat me that way when I was a child working in movies was Rob Reiner.

I remember one afternoon, while we were on a break between scenes, I walked through an empty set, and saw Susan listening to her Walkman (like an iPod, but it uses these things called "cassette tapes," that you may have seen on "I Love The 80s.") She pulled off her headphones, and said, "Do you want to hear some cool music?"

"Sure," I said, and walked into the room, which was her character's bedroom in the movie. They'd built an entire house on the stage, and even though I'd been on lots of sets before, it was still magical to me. There were lights and catwalks and cables and all the elements of movie magic just outside the camera's view. Some lights, flags, and C-stands crowded the corners of the set, and our chairs were pushed up against one wall. The room was dimly lit by the reflected light from the shooting set, a few rooms down the hall.

I sat down next to her and heard music coming out of her headphones.

"How are you doing today?" She said.

"I'm fine," I said. "I saw Superman III last night."

"Oh? How was it?" She said. She paused her Walkman, and the tinny sound of a guitar was replaced by the voices of the crew setting up the next shot.

"It was really stupid," I said. "They tried too hard to be funny, so it wasn't cool like the first two."

"Do you know who Richard Pryor is?" She said.

I shook my head.

"He played Gus."

"The guy who made the machine?" I said. "Oh god! I hated him."

"He's a famous comedian." She said.

"Well, he's not very funny," I said. Compared to the antics of Jack Tripper, or Arnold Jackson's Watchoo talkin' 'bout, Willis? which was the height of comedy as far as I was concerned, Richard Pryor just didn't rate.

"When you get older, you should listen to his comedy albums," she said. "I think you'll change your mind."

She was right. When I was fifteen or sixteen, my friend Pat and I picked up Richard Pryor Live in Concert, and I laughed so hard I almost forgave him for Brewster's Millions. He went on to be a comedic influence in my life, joining Bill Murray, Bill Hicks, Bill Cosby, and a few comedians who are not named Bill, including Chevy Chase and Steve Martin.

"If I do, I'll call you," I said. Unfortunately, by the time I did, we'd lost touch. That has always made me feel a little sad.

"We're ready for first team!" The first assistant director called out.

She picked up her headphones and put them over my ears. "Quick! Before they find us!" She said. I giggled as she pushed play.

A man started to sing. His voice was deep and beautiful. The music was soft, and felt sort of sad. If I'd known what "haunting" was, that's how I would have described it.

After a minute, she said, "Do you like it?"

I did. It was unlike any of the music my parents listened to, and was very different from the pop music I heard on the radio.

"Who is it?" I said.

"It's my friend," she said. "This song is about an astronaut who blasts off and never comes back."

"It's really cool," I said, as an assistant director poked his head into the room.

"I have first team," he said in to his walkie talkie. "We're ready for you on set," he said to us.

We got up and went to work before I could find out the title of the song. As the day went on, and the work took over, I never thought to ask, and by the end of the day, I'd forgotten about it entirely.

Later that year, I helped my dad repair a gate on the side of our house. We listened to KMET (the greatest rock-n-roll radio station in history, which was tragically replaced in 1987 by the worst light-jazz pile of shit in history) while we worked, and that song from Susan's friend came out of the radio.

"Dad!" I said, "This is the song that Susan played for me when we filmed The Buddy System! This is her friend!"

My dad stopped hammering, and listened.

"Do you know who it is?" I said.

"Yeah," my dad said. "This is David Bowie." The song was Space Oddity.

To this day, whenever I hear it, I can see my eleven year-old self, sitting in that empty, dusty, dimly-lit set on stage 18 at Fox. I can feel the rough pads of Susan's headphones on my ears, and remember how happy I felt to be part of a secret club.

Kangaroo spent much of that summer sitting in the darkened corner of stage 18 near the art department. It only worked in one shot, as part of a montage that we filmed at a miniature golf course out in Sherman Oaks. When I was looking through MAME for a game to write about for Games of Our Lives, and I saw Kangaroo, all these memories came back to me, just like they did with Wizard of Wor two weeks ago. It's funny . . . for most people, Kangaroo and Wizard of Wor are just arcade games, but for me they are much more — they are important touchstones.

They are just two of the games of my life.