WIL WHEATON dot NET: 1.5

Pauly:

If more Americans read books every night instead of watching TV, we'd live in a more productive society. If more Americans watched the news and read real newspapers and magazines, instead of crappy programs like American Idol, then I'm confident that George Bush would not be our president. But heck, that's what our leaders really want deep down... a mindless, uneducated populous that will work 40 hours a week so they can earn enough money to buy things to keep them distracted from the evil deeds that our leaders and suits in Fortune 500 companies are conducting everyday under your noses.

Posted by Wil at 3:33 PM | Permalink | Comments (17)

Dinner is finished, and Anne is helping Nolan with some homework at the dining room table. I'm sitting outside by the fire pit, enjoying the fruits of our weekend of patio labor. I am surrounded by freshly-planted wildflowers, two types of tomatoes, and the sweet smell of lavender, roses, and just-turned dirt.

I was listening to Big Tracks on XM, through DirecTV, on our home stereo. I sang REO Speedwagon's Keep On Lovin' You a little too loudly while I sipped a Stone Pale Ale and digested the most amazing chicken soft tacos (marinated in tequila, lime, salsa and Tapatio) I think I've ever cooked, when Ryan came out to the patio from the kitchen.

"Can I turn off XM and put on Live Aid?" He said.

"No, you can't," I said, a little perturbed that my REO Speedwagon rocking had been interrupted.

"But you've been monopolizing the TV, and you're not even inside," he said. Very reasonable.

" . . . I meant that I loved you foreverrrrr, and I'm gonna ke--" I sang. "Dude. I'm trying to get my rock on, and you're totally harshing my mellow."

"You're trying to get your rock on . . . to REO Speedwagon?" He said, incredulous. Tough to argue with that. "You're the only one listening to this, so isn't it fair to consider the rest of the family?"

Dammit. I raised him to think like this. I'm so proud of him, but . . . Big Tracks, and Stone Pale Ale, and sitting by the fire pit! Shit. Shit. Shit.

"Did you ask your mom what she thinks?" I said.

"She's going to say that she doesn't care, because she's helping Nolan with his homework." He said.

REO Speedwagon ended, and Asia began: "I never meant to be so bad to you . . ."

"Okay," I said, "let's go inside and ask your mom what she thinks."

We walked into the house, and found Anne and Nolan at the dining room table. Ryan related our discussion, and asked Anne if she cared if he changed the channel.

"I don't care," she said.

Ryan jumped up and pointed at me. "Ha! I told you!"

"I don't care about the radio, either," Nolan said, with a pointed smirk at me.

"Yes! I get to put on Live Aid!" Ryan said. He started toward the living room.

"Uh, wait." I said, "we haven't reached consensus."

"Oh, we totally have, Wil," he said with a grin, "you're 25% in favor, and mom, Nolan, and I are
75% opposed. We have a majority."

I was done. I'd lost, and now it was time to take it like a man.

"Dude, I have, uhm, extra . . . uh . . . powers." I said.

"What?" Ryan said.

"Yeah, I went up, up, down, down, left, right, left, right, B, A, start," I said.

"Okay," Ryan said, "so you get extra lives on Contra. What does that have to do with the radio?"

I don't know how he knew that it was the Konami code, but I'm sure he picked it up from me, somewhere over the years.

"Okay," I said, "just because you knew that, you win. Go put on Live Aid."

Queen is blasting out We Will Rock You, from Wembley Stadium in 1985, as I type this.

Posted by Wil at 7:56 PM | Permalink | Comments (38)

This is funny because it's true.

Posted by Wil at 9:48 AM | Permalink | Comments (23) | TrackBacks (1)

Eventful is getting lots of press, which is great for Brian and his entire team, because I believe that it's a tool that indie artists and guys like me will be able to use to connect with our audiences in ways that just weren't possible as recently as a year ago.

But I'm getting really tired of reading things like this:

The Eventful demand system is still new, and right now the system is overwhelmed by a collection of demands to hear former Star Trek actor Wil Wheaton speak. But don't let that put you off.

I'm sorry, but why would that put anyone off? Because it'd be better if Eventful was filled with demands for huge artists that don't care about meeting their audience, and wouldn't listen to demands, anyway?

Yeah, it's a really terrible thing that I hopped on board with Eventful, and consulted with Brian before it even launched, because I believe in it, and my upcoming trips to Montreal and Boston are perfect examples of how it can work, right? And it's equally off-putting that because of Eventful, the people who read my blog and I have a way to figure out where and when I should come perform, right? Yeah, that's just terrible! It's so off-putting!

And excuse me if this puts you off, Mr. Web 2.0 writer, but could we maybe retire the phrase "former Star Trek actor?" I know it's hard for you mainstream media types to understand that I've done a few things with myself since Star Trek ended over a decade ago, (like publish two books, write several weekly columns, and provide voices for several video games and animated series,) but I have a lot more in my life than just being a "former Star Trek actor," which you would have known if you'd done your homework.

Update: The article's author has apologized:

I'd like to apologize to you, Wil. I did not mean to offend nor to diminish your work. My tongue-in-cheek comment about how a ton of Eventful Demand posts to see you might be overwhelming to people trying to set up their own demands was not meant as a slight to you personally (although I can see how it was insensitive). As I said to one person who wrote an email to me, it's clear that you've done a lot for Eventful and Eventful has done a lot for you. That's how good business gets done.

I'll buy a ticket to see you when you come to SF.

Thank you, Rafe. Whenever I hear "former Star Trek actor . . ." without any mention of anything else I've done with my life, I do feel diminished and slighted. Apology accepted and appreciated very much.

Posted by Wil at 9:08 AM | Permalink | Comments (72)

Today is Towel Day, a day when all geeks can carry their towels with them in tribute to the hoopiest frood of them all, Douglas Adams.

I absolutely love that I'm recording an all-geek podcast on this most sacred of days.

Updated: Oh! You know what I love even more? Spending 2.5 hours working on the podcast, then losing the entire thing to some weird confluence of system lockups and crashes.

I'm taking a long, long, long don't-break-anything walk, and I'll try again in the morning. Sigh.

Posted by Wil at 3:09 PM | Permalink | Comments (18) | TrackBacks (1)

Today is Towel Day, a day when all geeks can carry their towels with them in tribute to the hoopiest frood of them all, Douglas Adams.

I absolutely love that I'm recording an all-geek podcast on this most sacred of days.

Posted by Wil at 10:47 AM | Permalink | Comments (14)

I am about to begin production on Episode 9 of Radio Free Burrito, but before I get started, I wanted to share a hilarious John Kovalic cartoon with you all.

More to come later . . .

Posted by Wil at 10:12 AM | Permalink | Comments (5) | TrackBacks (1)

Presented without comment.

Posted by Wil at 7:29 AM | Permalink | Comments (14) | TrackBacks (2)

I wrote a column for The AV Club about my trip to E3, and it hit the web about an hour ago. It's my first foray into my version of gonzo journalism, and I'm really happy with the way it came out.

Take the largest video arcade you remember from your childhood. Now quadruple its size, put it in the middle of Shibuya Crossing, dim the lights, and crank the volume to 11. Toss in a bunch of celebrities, charge $300 for a stale slice of pizza and a soda, crank the volume up to 11 one more time, and you've got E3: the Electronic Entertainment Expo.

E3 started during the halcyon '90s, when Pets.com ruled the world. Now every May, gaming giants like Nintendo, Microsoft, Sony, and Sega gather at the Los Angeles Convention Center to present their newest hardware and software releases to a very select audience: about 30 percent entertainment media, 5 percent distributors, and 65 percent people who have managed to scam press passes so they can spend a day playing video games and checking out booth babes (who this year are required to wear nothing more revealing than miniskirts—the trade-show equivalent of burkas).

[. . .]

Four televisions, eight guitars, and a small crowd stood beneath a mockup that looked remarkably like a concert stage. I could hear Kiss' "Strutter" being played with varying degrees of proficiency as Gen-Xers rocked out in the highly anticipated co-op mode.

"Hey, isn't that Guit—" Spencer asked.

"Muh… guh… huh…" I answered, walking on autopilot to the front of the booth.

"Hi, I'm Wil Wheaton," I said, "and I love your game." Probably not the most professional way to introduce myself, in retrospect. "I'm writing about Guitar Hero II for The A.V. Club."

You can read the entire story at The AV Club, and while you're there, you can check out my Games of our Lives column for this week: Congo Bongo.

I feel really good about this column, and I'm really happy that the type of writing I've perfected over the years on my blog earned a spot in an actual print publication.

Posted by Wil at 5:27 PM | Permalink | Comments (15)

I found this photograph of Wesley, Beverly, and Captain Picard that goes with the scene I posted earlier today. I look like a total dork who is so excited he's about to burst, but I'm cool with that -- it was exactly how I felt the day we shot that scene. I never noticed until just now that Gates looks like a proud mom, and Patrick looks like a proud, uh, Patrick. I wonder if they were channeling real emotions like I was, or if they were just acting really well?

I had to scan it at a low resolution, because I'm pretty sure Viacom's goons would come after me if it was printable and whatnot, but if you always wondered what that scene looked like, well, now you know.

Posted by Wil at 1:19 PM | Permalink | Comments (44) | TrackBacks (1)

While executing a mission in the War on Shit All Over Our House (Operation Feng This Motherfrakkin' Shui) last night, I came across a little bag of stuff in my closet. Inside it, with a bunch of business cards, some old incense (Nag Champa is a constant in my life, it turns out) and a bunch of change, I found my sides and call sheet from the first day I worked on Star Trek: Nemesis a few years ago. (One page of my sides is scanned and pictured at right. Click to embiggen, but it's 1.3 MB, so don't complain if your modem screams at you and doesn't want to have a second date.)

There were a lot of things in my closet that were clearly important to me at one time, but it was as easy to throw them away as it was to open the closet door and dig them out: old T-shirts, shoes, hats, and a few little bags of stuff like the one which contained my sides. It was a sort of time capsule of the 2001-2005 versions of me, and I loved identifying the threads that have tied me together all these years: Converse shoes, collared bowling and lounge shirts, nerdy T-shirts, and baseball caps from the Cubs and Dodgers (why I end up with new caps at least twice a year is a great Mystery of the Universe.)

Every time I go through my stuff and find things that used to be important to me, only to jettison them into the great beyond, I feel a certain amount of freedom and serenity that I won't trade for anything. It's good to feel like my stuff doesn't own me, because it's pretty easy to get rid of my stuff. The other side of that coin, of course, is when I find things that I'm happy I kept, like these sides. I sat on my bedroom floor tonight and remembered holding those sides in my hand, even though I'd known the lines for days, when I was walking from the makeup trailer to the stage when I worked on Nemesis, and I'm glad that I have a physical touchstone from that day. The obnoxious red polyester shirt with the houndstooth pattern and slightly-too-big collar was a nice bonus, too.

Posted by Wil at 6:00 AM | Permalink | Comments (24)

Anne and Ryan were out on Friday, which left Nolan and me to goof off at home when I got back from working on Legion of Super Heroes.

We had big plans: some Magic: The Gathering, a little Brawl, and maybe some OGRE and heads-up poker.

But when I got home, the goddamn pine tree in the front yard dropped a huge ball of pollen down on my car, and I spent the next four hours on the couch sneezing and trying to fight off the allergy-induced headache that felt like it was going to split my head in twain. Good times. Good times.

Nolan ended up playing Diablo II while I watched the Los Angeles Dodgers of Los Angeles pwn the Los Angeles Angels of Not Los Angeles Because We Play In Orange County But Our Idiot Owner Wants To Have Los Angeles In Our Name Because He's A Moron.

For those of you who missed the sixth inning massacre, the final board was:

LAD - 16 25 1
LAANLABWPOCBOIOWHLAIOWBHAM: 3 10 2

Of course, the Dodgers did their best to blow their fifteen run lead, by letting Carter come in and give up three hits and a run, and though I normally don't like games that are total blowouts, watching the Dodgers on the winning side of it for a change, and especially at the expense of the stupid Angels who swept us last year, was awesome. I should also add that the Los Angeles Dodgers of Los Angeles shutout the Los Angeles Because We Play In Orange County But Our Idiot Owner Wants To Have Los Angeles In Our Name Because He's A Moron to complete the sweep, and move up to 1/2 a game out of first in what is probably the weakest division this side of 7 year-olds playing little league.

Speaking of the Dodgers, yesterday, my dad took me to Chavez Ravine for some LAD vs LAANLABWPOCBOIOWHLAIOWBHAM action, and it was awesome. There are pictures in my buzznet blog, including a shot of Tommy Lasorda, who is the closest to royalty you'll see at Dodger Stadium, who got a standing ovation from our entire section when he walked from his seat to wherever it is you go when you're Tommy Fucking Lasorda and you rule.

Anyway, back to Friday: After the only team on the field worthy of having Los Angeles in their name blew the game wide open, I picked up my bag of comics from Free Comic Book Day, and finally had a look at the books I picked up. Most of them were a solid "meh," but that's the whole point of FCBD: to see new stuff that may not excite everyone, but introduce new readers to new material. If you're a guy like me who is already pretty narrow in tastes, it's unlikely you're going to find much that excites you. However, there were a few things that I really liked that I'll pick up next time I'm at my friendly local comics shop:

• Shadowhawk, from Image
• Dead at 17, from Viper
• Superman/Batman from DC

The Bongo freebie was also funny (and funnier than the average episode of the Simpsons these days, which is not meant as a backhanded complement) and the Fantagraphics Funnybook was fantastic.

Around ten, my antihistamines finally started to work, and my headache began to subside as it was overtaken by drowsiness. I fell asleep watching Dark City, which is still a hell of a lot of fun to watch, whether you've got a head filled with antihistamines or not.

Today, Anne and I opened up a new front in the War on Shit All Over Our House and Yard (Operation Enduring Yardwork) and pruned the hell out of a tree in the front yard, as well as tearing out all the weeds that had attempted to establish a beachhead in one of our front yard planters. Rain threatened all day today, but never arrived, which was great, because the combination of breeze and humidity provided just the right level of comfort for fighting the forces of Bermuda grass and their allies the tree-looking things that spring up all over the goddamn place. In a fit of planning ahead, I did my best Sean Penn imitation and snorted a whole bunch of Flonase (relax, I have a prescription) before I started the work today, and I was able to work for about five hours before simple exhaustion overcame me (rather than the sneezing and allergy-related misery I experienced Friday night.)

After all my yard work was done, I decided to take a break and play a little poker at PokerStars, so I hopped into a 4-player heads-up sit-n-go (I was inspired after watching the Heads-up Championship on NBC this morning.) I really like those matches, because most of the players at the lower buy-ins are very straightforward (so you know your pair of kings is no good when they bet into you on an A-high board) and you only have to beat two players to win three buy-ins, instead of 8 players in a regular sit-n-go. At one point, my first round opponent had me down to just a few big blinds, but I got insanely lucky and bounced back, tilting him in the process and taking it down. My second round opponent had the classic online tell: he'd check the "check/fold" box when he was in the BB if he didn't like his hand, so I'd call and if he insta-checked, I knew I could bet no matter what on the flop and get him to fold. I rode the right combination of luck and trusting my reads to victory, turning my mighty five dollar buy-in into twenty dollars when I flopped TP and a flush draw with AT and got him to call me with KT when my flush missed.

Okay, now it's time to go watch The Simpsons, in the lame hope that it manges to be funny this week.

Uh, okay, the whole opening bit with the attacking couches? Brilliant. Even if the rest of the show veers off into that weird Jesusland they've been hitting so frequently this season, that was worth the price of admission.

Wait. The baseball bit? Very funny. This "homer is the relationship counselor" bit? The polar opposite of funny. Are they hiring old 1970s sit-com writers? This is like a rejected Three's Company script. Give me another monorail, please. Please, I beg you.

Posted by Wil at 8:22 PM | Permalink | Comments (17)

I've spent all my time today catching up with all the things I've wanted to put into my blog over the last few weeks, but haven't had the time or energy to complete. This is the last bit of the Catching Up Trilogy, soon to be a major motion picture starring Jack Black as the cab driver, Jimmy Kimmel's Cousin as Wil Wheaton, and a special appearance by William Fucking Shatner, as himself.

"I wrote earlier today about not having time, and feeling like there isn't enough time for things, and I think the conclusion I've reached from this already-too-long post is that we have to give ourselves permission to make time for the things we really want to do. In my case, I need to have full access to my creative brain. Fear is the enemy of creativity, and I have to just stop being afraid of not providing for my family enough, so I can write some creative things that will provide for them."

More Than This

I have to say this, so I can get over it once and for all: Most of my experience with the release of Just A Geek completely sucked. Rather than building on the momentum I created with Dancing Barefoot, I felt like I was right back where I started, when the whole thing was finally over. I felt taken advantage of, mislead, and ultimately just discarded. That book was really my baby, and the damn publisher handled it (and me) so poorly, it was just devastating to me.

When it became apparent to me that the publisher wasn't going to market it correctly, and when I realized that the company was never interested in doing more with it than just cashing in on my blog and the audience I'd worked so hard to create, I felt like a total chump. I worked harder on Just A Geek, and spent more time and energy on promoting it and making sure it was as good as it could be, and I actually earned less, and sold fewer with a major publisher than I did with Dancing Barefoot, publishing it on my own. In fact, the only real publicity efforts or signings that had any impact on sales were ones I set up myself, or came to me because of my blog. Yeah, that was really worth the huge nightmare of constantly begging them not to promote it as a Sci-Fi book or a Star Trek bio, only to be ignored or dismissed. Never again will I rely upon a publisher to do what they said they would do, and never again will I ignore the instincts I've spent a lifetime developing when they warn me that something just isn't right.

"You have to do another book like Dancing Barefoot," Anne told me last summer, "because we had such a good time with it, and you're too stubborn and passionate to work for anyone, anyway. Then you'll feel better about the whole thing."

She was right, of course, and the idea for Do You Want Kids With That? to be another small book very similar to Dancing Barefoot was born.

The entire process of working on that manuscript was very similar to the Barefoot experience: I spent long hours on my Debian machine, cutting and pasting stuff from my blog and editing it in OpenOffice.org, and sending tons of files back and forth with my friend Andrew, who edited almost all of Dancing Barefoot, and the first two drafts of Just A Geek with me.

Our goal was to have it out by November of last year, but in the early weeks of October, I realized that it wasn't going to work. The problem was easy to identify: though it was a collection of several short stories all relating to my experiences as a stepfather, it was essentially the same story over and over again: I love my stepkids, and I love it so much when I can feel them accept me and I see myself reflected in them. It's hard to be a stepparent, but it's totally worth all the extra work. That's great for about three short stories, and the occasional blog entry, but anything longer than that is just too much, and it gets old. I know how to fix it, but I am just not willing to tear the curtains back on Ryan and Nolan's lives the same way I'm willing to do it on my own, and without doing that, I can't write additional stories that will give the final draft the ebb and flow it needs to truly work. I also don't want to spend a whole lot of time and energy talking about what a jerk Anne's ex-husband is, and how hard he's worked (and continues to work) to drive a wedge between the kids and me, which is very important context to understand just how remarkable it is that I have any relationship with them at all, let alone the fantastic, loving, trusting, bonded one we do have.

But I had material that was written and edited, and it seemed foolish to let it go to waste, so I pulled together three of the stories that I liked the most, and Andrew helped me edit them into the chapbook More Than This.

Every step of the way, from the selection of material, to the re-writing and editing, to the layout and printing and release, made me insanely happy. I felt like I was in charge of my life, and helping to support my family by doing something I love, and don't totally suck at. (Yes, I realize the irony of saying that I don't suck at writing while ending a sentence in a preposition. With. At. Of.)

(At.)

I felt like I could finally feel good about writing and publishing again, and a lot of the unhappiness and frustration and depression that tainted and then ruined the Just A Geek experience was washed away. It was like Dancing Barefoot all over again, and I couldn't have been happier:

When I picked up my chapbooks from the printer, I had the same happiness and sense of fulfillment that I had when Dancing Barefoot first arrived at my house almost exactly three years ago.

When I took them to the Grand Slam convention, and people expressed an interest in reading them, I felt the same excitement that I felt when people picked up the first pre-release, I-made-them-at-Kinko's copies of Dancing Barefoot at the same convention in 2003.

When I created the blog entry about the chapbook, and orders started to come in, I felt the same surprise, excitement, happiness and joy I felt when Dancing Barefoot was first accepting orders. In fact, I saw a lot of names that I recognized from back then, and felt doubly happy that so many of you reading this have continued to come back for so many years. (There are a lot of places you can visit on the Internets, and there's a lot of media competing for your time and attention; that you choose to spend some of it with me makes me feel very, very happy, and I'll continue to do my very best to earn your time and honor your support.)

When I filled the orders for the chapbook, and Anne and Ryan helped me put them into envelopes and apply the stamps, I felt the same happiness and excitement that I felt during the summer of Dancing Barefoot's first release, when Anne and I sat in our living room with our friends and stuffed envelopes, applied postage and mailing labels, and took them to the post office for shipping.

Man, the summer of 2003 was so much fun: Anne and I took our ultra-awesome  road trip to Tulsa  for the Trek Expo, where Dancing Barefoot sold out, I did signings at Powell's in Portland and Mysterious Galaxy in San Diego, and I couldn't wait to get Just A Geek (which was already in production at the time) finished, so I could build upon all that momentum. It's the happiest I think I've been since we got married, which remains the happiest day of my life (as cliche as that sounds.) Everything was working back then; my writing was clear and interesting (to me, anyway) and everything was coming up Millhouse. I expected the same success and excitement -- better, even -- with Just A Geek, and when it became painfully clear that it wasn't coming, and in fact was designed not to come, it made the crash from the Dancing Barefoot high that much more painful (obviously, as I still lingers a little bit today.)

The More Than This experience is like Dancing Barefoot, only smaller and more intimate this time. I really, really like that. I sincerely hope that those of you who ordered copies (the first shipment is arriving, according to e-mail, and the second shipment is going out as soon as I post this and drive to the post office) feel like your time and money is well-spent.

I don't know what will come next on the literary front. I've been working so hard to keep my head above water with my "for hire" work, I haven't had the time to just take a long walk up the mountain and see what I bring back. I have some fiction ideas, one in particular that is very exciting to me and may get out of the "wouldn't it be cool if . . ." stage and enter the "I'm working on a story about . . ." stage. I've also thought about collecting the best of my blog twice a year, and doing limited print runs like More Than This, with added commentary and a few other things that should make it worth your time. I am also going to take the material that would have been in Do You Want Kids With That? and turn it into an audiobook, unlike anything else that's out there right now (to the best of my knowledge) and release that in the near future, sort of like Just A Geek: The Audiobook.

I told my friend Shane a couple of days ago, "starting tonight, i vow to spend less time online, less time playing poker, and more time reading books, listening to music, exercising, and enjoying the things in life that are worth enjoying -- it's just not worth it to be tied to the fucking computer all day, every day."

I think that's good advice for tracking down my inspiration and finding my writing muse again. I can't expect to hit a single home run if I don't take batting practice, you know?

Here's an interesting bonus result from my blogging today: in the process of catching up, I feel like I've purged a ton of stuff that's been clogging me up for a long time, and I was able to sit down at my dining room table, pull out a pen and a piece of paper, and sketch out a WWdN 2.0 layout for my friend Russ to work on. He says it's awesome, and can have the new design ready really soon. I may just get to leave Exile before Duke Nuke 'Em Forever ships. Everything happens for a reason . . . maybe I needed to get all this out so I could go home, and pack up for that long walk up the mountain.

Posted by Wil at 5:13 PM | Permalink | Comments (41)

I've been too busy to write about some cool things that I've experienced, recently. I'm taking the next few hours to catch up . . .

Free Comic Book Day

In 2003, I took Ryan and Nolan to Free Comic Book Day at my local comic shop, Comics Factory in Pasadena (Colorado, just West of Hill, if you're ever in the area). It's a great shop, run by people who love comics and really take care of their customers.

FCBD is exactly what it sounds like: a day when you get to choose from a bunch of different comics -- for free -- at your friendly local comic shop. The idea is to get new people interested in reading comics and graphic novels, as well as convincing current readers to give a different book or genre a risk-free try. (Note to industry: how about Free Game Day?)

When I took the kids two years ago, they picked up a bunch of X-Men and Batman and stuff, and were really into comic books for about three weeks before losing interest and returning to Harry Potter (Ryan) and Reading Sucks (Nolan, who has grown into quite the reader in the last 1 months) I, on the other hand, picked up Fables, which is the coolest Vertigo title since Sandman, and found my love of comic books re-kindled. For most of a year, I went into the comic shop twice a month and picked up new books and read them all. I was terribly sad when I had to admit that I couldn't justify the time and money invested, though, and I didn't read much more than a few graphic novels for most of 2005.

So I have a pile of great books from Free Comic Book Day that I think I'm going to read this afternoon, as soon as I finish my writing commitments for today.

Uh-oh. Commence rambling:

I love to watch and read Sci-Fi and Fantasy. I love to play geeky games like Illuminati and Talisman and Frank's Zoo. I love to read comic books, and I wish I had the time to paint 40K armies and go to gaming cons and comic cons and just be a total nerd. I want to go for a hike to Echo Mountain, and I want to go Geocaching. I wish I had time to go out to plays and hear live music and see midnight movies and take my family on trips to see things like Yellowstone and the Smithsonian, or just go to the beach and enjoy one of the reasons we still live in Southern California.

Somewhere in the last couple of years, I've allowed my sense of responsibility and my need to be a good father, husband, and provider completely overwhelm me. I've lost a sense of Balance in my life, and all those cool nerdy things that defined me for so much of my life are struggling to get up there and have the floor, too.

When I went to Free Comic Book Day this year, I felt a connection to some of the happiest days of my life, those days when I sat on the floor at Darin's house and we read Sandman, and Killing Joke, and Dark Knight Returns together. The smell of paper and cardboard and books and that nerd-funk that can't be described reminded me of all the hours I spent in game stores like The Last Grenadier, and the hours I spent at home reading Uncle Albert's and rolling up GURPS characters, just because I could.

I fully realize that an adult with two kids and a mortgage can't have the sort of time and freedom to goof off the way he did when he was a teenager, but I think there has to be some way, even as an adult, to find Balance, and give yourself permission to goof off from time to time. You know that saying, "We don't stop playing because we get old, we get old because we stop playing"? I grok.

Oh, which actually brings up another interesting observation: In On Writing, Stephen King says that you can't expect to be a creative writer if you don't make the time to read. All the really good poker players I know say a similar thing about playing cards: if you don't make time to study your game, and talk with other players who you respect, you can't expect to play your best game. The same thing goes for athletes; they say that Tony Gwynn and Ted Williams took more batting practice than anyone else on their teams, and Michael Jordan spent more time practicing free throws and anyone else on the Bulls. It makes sense, doesn't it?

I wrote earlier today about not having time, and feeling like there isn't enough time for things, and I think the conclusion I've reached from this already-too-long post is that we have to give ourselves permission to make time for the things we really want to do. In my case, I need to have full access to my creative brain. Fear is the enemy of creativity, and I have to just stop being afraid of not providing for my family enough, so, uh, I can write some creative things that will provide for us.

That segues nicely into part three, coming later.

Posted by Wil at 1:21 PM | Permalink | Comments (16)

I've been too busy to write about some cool things that I've experienced, recently. I'm taking the next few hours to catch up . . .

kyle + rosemary

The kyle + rosemary recording session was as much fun as I thought it would be. Jun cast a brilliant woman to play Rosemary, whose voice combined perfectly with her character model, and made it easy for me to commit to Kyle's head-over-heels crush on her.

I've never been particularly good at doing voices, but with Jun's help, I found a voice for Kyle that was soft and sweet and a little insecure, that I was really, really happy with.

Jun (director / creator) and Jentle (voice of Rosemary) were great fun to collaborate with, and we had a great time riffing together and discovering some funny stuff that surprised us all. One of my favorite moments was trying to come up with something to replace "severed head," which the S&P folks had decided was forbidden. We tried a few different things, and Jun settled on replacing the severed head with a skull. I suggested we make it a flaming skull, because "everything is funnier when you set it on fire." 

I saw Don the Coolest Guard in the World when I went in, but he wasn't there when I left, so I didn't get to thank him personally. I heard from a few people at Nickelodeon that someone did show him my blog, though, so he knows. I hope I get to go back to Nickelodeon soon and shake his hand.

kyle + rosemary is not a sold pilot; it's a short film that will be considered by Nickelodeon for series development early next year. When I have more information about when it's airing and how you can watch it, I'll let you know.

Legion of Super Heroes

I've done two episodes of Legion so far, and I go back for another one tomorrow. I really can't say anything about it, because the Warner Animation Goonsquad will totally come after me and take away my super powers . . . but it's just amazing, and I think people are really, really going to like it.

More later . . .

Posted by Wil at 11:37 AM | Permalink | Comments (7)

There just isn't enough time.

There isn't enough time to do everything I want to do with my kids.
There isn't enough time to take long walks with my wife.
There isn't enough time to work on my yard.
There isn't enough time to work on my house.
There isn't enough time to get out and live life to the fullest.
There isn't enough time to seek out and embrace inspiration.
There isn't enough time to write great stories.
There isn't enough time to play games.

There just isn't enough time.

Posted by Wil at 11:22 AM | Permalink | Comments (19) | TrackBacks (1)

Spring is totally here in Pasadena: it's misty or foggy in the mornings, and cool enough to wear a shell when I jog around the neighborhood. Then it burns off around noon and we enjoy cool breezes and temperatures in the mid 70s until the sun goes down. It's perfect planting, barbequing, and sitting-on-the-patio-with-a-nice-cigar weather. The thing is, our patio (and all of our yard, actually) has really gone to hell over Winter, so Ryan and Nolan and I gave Anne a landscaped and cleaned up yard for Mother's Day.

I spent the entire day yesterday up to my knees in turned soil and roly poly bugs while my dogs did their best to help me out by digging holes where I'd recently stuck some new plants into the ground. The kids helped clean out overgrown grasses and piles of leaves we'd allowed to collect in the corners of the yard, and Anne and I transplanted some huge lavender bushes from the front yard to the planter beneath our kitchen window (boy, the fragrance of lavender drifting through that window can almost make washing dishes not completely suck.)

The smell of wet grass and freshly turned earth is everywhere: when I sit in my office, it comes up from the back yard; when I take my Powerbook into my living room and sit on the couch (where I am right now,) it comes in from the patio . . . and there are birds everywhere! I hung bird feeders with songbird mix and socks filled with Nyjer seed all around my yard, and filled up the birdbath on the patio as the sun was setting last night, and this morning there are close to thirty birds, from gold finches to blue jays to white tufted titmouses (titmice?) singing and chirping and making my yard the peaceful sanctuary I've always wanted it to be.

The best part? I spent $139 dollars on plants and soil and fertilizer and crap, and the looks and feels more like a thousand bucks. In about a month, if these plants take off the way we think they will, Anne and I are going to have several flowerbeds filled with beautiful native plants.

There's still work to be done: the elm needs to be thinned, the palm tree needs to be cleaned up before it can dump sixty pounds of seeds and junk into my grass, and I have an entirely overgrown side yard that needs to be totally cleaned out and landscaped (it's been the "let's do that next" project since we moved in six years ago), but the work we did this weekend -- as a family, no less -- is just awesome. I have lately felt like I'm working very hard without a whole lot to show for it, and it gives me a much-needed sense of accomplishment to walk into my back yard and see the results of the work we did. I wish I'd taken before and after photos, because it's pretty incredible.

I've been writing all morning, and now I can go out into the back and enjoy its growing sense of peace and sanctuary. I may even take a cigar with me, just because I can.

Posted by Wil at 1:05 PM | Permalink | Comments (32) | TrackBacks (1)

People always advise their friends and family to get up and watch the sunrise. That's a great idea, because experiencing the world early in the morning when she's waking up can be a magical and inspiring experience, but don't neglect the full moon.

You get 365 chances each year to get up and watch Father Sun, in russet mantle clad, climb yon Eastward hill, but Mother Moon only grows fat once a month, so the next time you know she'll be full, grab a telescope, some binoculars, or a person you love and head out into the back yard for a look.

Posted by Wil at 9:21 AM | Permalink | Comments (16)

"The NSA would like to remind everyone to call their mothers this Sunday.  They need to calibrate their system."

(via Bruce Schneier. Image via boingboing)

Posted by Wil at 1:41 PM | Permalink | Comments (13) | TrackBacks (4)

A lot of people have asked me about Americanizing Shelly, the film I worked on last year as director Alan Smithee.

I haven't said much about it, because I didn't know what I could talk about and what I had to keep on the down-low, but I just read this story from the swnewsherald about the production:

The film tells the story of a wannabe Hollywood talent manager’s quest to Americanize an Indian girl from the Himalayas. As he teaches her about the “American way of life,” they begin to see the world through each other’s eyes.

I didn't know this when I worked on it, but one of the co-producers was just seventeen years-old! I'm totally blown away; we only spoke on the phone and via e-mail, but if I hadn't read this article, I would have thought she was a typical, experienced film-maker.[1] Good on ya, Natasha!

I also just discovered that the film has a website, which currently features a teaser trailer that includes me, in all my "incompetent director" glory. Right on.

[1] Oops. Mistaken identity. We never spoke with each other. However, it's still incredibly cool that a seventeen year-old got involved with the making of a movie (which I've just found out looks great and is cracking up all the people who have seen it during editing.)

Posted by Wil at 6:51 PM | Permalink | Comments (36)

I'm getting ready to hop on the train and go down to E3, to do an hour on GameSpy's Livewire program with David Lawrence. I'll be on at noon Pacific time, and you can tune in for audio goodness through the Livewire website, but you have to register for the video goodness. Sorry about that; it's beyond my control. I'm pretty sure it's an interactive show, too, so come out and represent the posse if you're in a representin' mood, dogg. Uh, yo. Word. Westsieeeeeeeed.

When I'm done with that, my official quest to play Guitar Hero 2 will begin, which makes this the first time in three years that I'm actually excited to go to E3. Rock.

Posted by Wil at 9:23 AM | Permalink | Comments (19)

I wanted to have something new and cool to show off when I went to the Grand Slam Sci-Fi Summit back in March, so I worked like crazy and made a very limited edition chapbook called More Than This, which is a few stories from the Do You Want Kids With That? manuscript (which is a book similar to Dancing Barefoot, but all about stepparenting.)

I wanted it to be something really cool and worth having, so in addition to three stories that I really like, I asked Ben Claassen to do an illustration like the ones he did for Dancing Barefoot, and I asked my stepson Ryan if he'd write a foreword. Luckily for us all, they both agreed, and the result is really cool, if I say so myself.

I only made 200 of these books, and sold 51 58 of them at the convention. Since I gave Ryan and Nolan numbers one and two respectively, that means there are 147 140 left in the whole entire universe, including the far off Dangot (that's pronounced "dang-oh," not "dan-got," which you may have heard) Nebula.

I was only going to make 100 for the convention, but it didn't cost that much to increase the run to 200, and I figured that I'd be able to offer whatever was left on this here website.

See where I'm going with this? I knew ya did!

If you'd like to pick up one of these limited-edition chapbooks, you can use the "Buy Now" button below. I'll sign the chapbook to whomever you want, and number it by hand with my very favorite squishy-handled pen. I'll keep this offer up as long as I have books, and of course I'll refund any orders that come in after they're all gone (assuming they sell out.)

One last thing: in the writing and editing process of Do You Want Kids With That?, my editor and I have come to the conclusion that it probably doesn't work as a full-length book (long story) but will almost certainly work very well as a 60-minute audiobook. So it's quite likely that this will be the only way you can get your hands on this material in any sort of book form.

If you're interested, here are the details:

More Than This - A Personalized, Autographed Chapbook by Wil Wheaton, featuring a foreword from my stepson Ryan.
Length: 20 pages.
Price: $25.00 (includes shipping)

Please allow 3-5 weeks for processing and shipping. At this time, I can only accept domestic US orders (international shipping is a real bitch for a small time operation like mine, and I have to increase the costs quite a bit to justify the extra time and work. Sorry.) If you have questions, put them in comments, so I can sort of FAQ it up. Thanks.

UPDATE: As of 8:30 PM PDT, there are just 75 left. 74 left (I thought I should probably set one aside for my mom.)

UPDATE AGAIN: As of 9:38 PM PDT there are just 32 left. Wow.

UPDATED AGAIN AGAIN: At 11:05 PM PDT, there are only 11 books left.

UPDATED ONE LAST TIME: It's 11:44 PM PDT, and all the books have been ordered, so I'm going to bed now. I'll start processing orders tomorrow after breakfast. Thanks to everyone who placed orders!

Posted by Wil at 5:00 PM | Permalink | Comments (69) | TrackBacks (1)

So it turns out that Eventful Demands really work! Thanks to everyone who demanded me in Boston (currently a staggering 209,) I was able to confidently contact a few bookstores and tell them that I was coming to town, with about 200 people who would come to their store, spend some money, and freak out the regulars.

As I've tried to put this together, I've learned that Boston has no shortage of outstanding bookstores, (especially indie book stores) and scheduling something for two days before the Fourth of July holiday is really, really hard . . . but I stuck at it, because this is such a unique opportunity to find out if decentralized tools and the power of the internets really does work for a guy like me.

On the advice of several WWdN:iX readers, I focused my attention and my efforts on Brookline Booksmith and Porter Square Books. If I was going to be in town for more than two days, I could probably do events at both stores, but since I'm only there for a brief time, (and because they called back first) I'll be at Brookline Booksmith on July 2nd. The store is working with the theatre across the street from the store to set up a screening of Stand By Me, followed by a Q&A with me. If they can get a print of the film, it will start at noon; otherwise, I'll just take the stage at one, do a reading from Just A Geek, and take some questions after. Either way, it's going to be really, really fun.

More details will come as they get worked out, but so far, here's what I have in easy-to-cut-n-paste form:

Who: Wil Wheaton, author, actor, cad, knave, raconteur.
What: Reading from Just A Geek, possible screening of Stand By Me.
Where: Brookline Booksmith - 279 Harvard Street Brookline, MA 02446
When: Sunday, July 2, 2006  - 12:00pm

This is really exciting for me. I feel the same level of anticipation and giddiness I felt when I was about to release Dancing Barefoot through Monolith Press, because this is something that I never could have done on my own (both practically, and courageously) and I can't wait to see how this whole thing turns out.

Now, I can turn my attention to taking care of Montreal, which is going to be a hell of a lot easier, I think.

Posted by Wil at 2:52 PM | Permalink | Comments (37) | TrackBacks (4)

I have pictures and stories about kyle + rosemary from yesterday, but I've got to go to the cleaners and get my tights on my way to Warner Brothers for my Legion of Super Heroes session that starts in an hour. Man, it's so weird (and so cool) to work two days in a row on different voice projects! If I've got anything left when I get home, I'll post about them both.

But if you're looking for something to read until then, here's your occasional linkfest to stuff I've written elsewhere in the last week, that you probably missed if you just read WWdN:iX:

Geek News @ Suicide Girls:

Earth's Artificial Ring - (This is probably my favorite story I've ever put onto the Geekwire.)

During the height of the Cold War, American scientists were also geeked out on the Ionosphere, because using it was the only reliable way to communicate over long distances, should ground-based microwave or undersea cable communication become unusable because of those godless commies. Not happy to accept the Ionosphere as nature intended it, they attempted to create an artificial Ionosphere by launching 480 million tiny copper needles into orbit, which briefly gave our planet an artificial ring in 1963.

The Last Webreference You'll Ever Need

Protolize breaks everything down into categories, from General to RSS to CMS and beyond, and then further sub-categorizes them into Tools, Resources, and Inspirations. Just about everything you need to take that idea in your head and make it something real online is gathered together in one place, and if there's a site you know of that isn't listed, adding it to the list is as simple as filling out a form. It's like Webmonkey meets del.icio.us, and exemplifies the power of sharing and organizing knowledge using the Internets.

Dude Tracks His Transatlantic Flight By Watching Internet Routing

The best part of Todd's blog post is his explanation of routing protocols and how the engineers at Boeing overcame what could have been service-crippling problems, including all sorts of really cool and useful graphics that even a level 010 geek can easily understand. In fact, if you grok and get excited by his story, you're probably on your way to being a level 1010 geek. If you understand what I'm talking about and are giggling right now, you're a level 101010 geek, and we're looking forward to seeing you at the meeting tonight. Excelsior!

Poker Stuff @ CardSquad:

In Washington State, Online Poker Players Are Now Class C Felons, Just Like Sex Offenders

Lawmakers in Washington state have decided that they know what's best for all their residents, and recently passed Senate Bill 6613, which "[reaffirms and clarifies] the prohibition against Internet and certain other interactive electronic or mechanical devices to engage in gambling."

I am the UltraGigli (note: in poker blogger land, Gigli is what we call the first person to be knocked out of a tourney. At the WPBT events in Vegas, the first person eliminated gets a copy of Gilgli on DVD from Dr. Pauly.)

Since I was Gigli'd in back-to-back tourneys, first with Aces and then with Kings, I now declare that I am the JLo's glorious ass part of Gigli. I am, in fact, the UltraGigli.

REVIEW: Phil Gordon's Little Green Book of Poker

During the 2005 WPT Championship at Bellagio, I had the great fortune of spending some time with Phil -- not at the same table, thank gods -- and he really helped me a lot.

[. . .]

We had dinner together at the end of the first day, and Phil gave me a bit of a lesson while we ate. When we were done, he told me that he was working on a little book that would compile lots of useful information from existing works by Caro and Sklansky, filtered through and expanded upon by Phil's personal experience. He was particularly excited about the tournament chapter, and all the math he'd done to figure out very reliably how often players needed to steal blinds, and make moves to survive into the deeper levels of play. He graciously offered to e-mail me a copy of the manuscript so I could read it over later that night, and it significantly helped my game. The book, of course, became Phil Gordon's Little Green Book: Lessons and Teachings in No Limit Texas Hold'em.

Thanks for reading!

Posted by Wil at 12:59 PM | Permalink | Comments (12)

The April 19th issue of The Onion arrived in my mailbox yesterday (it is a massive perk of being an AV Club contributor) and it's one of the funniest complete issues I've read in months. Seriously, from top to bottom this one is so funny, it makes you want to write hyperbolic statements that begin, "Seriously, from top to bottom . . ."

My two favorite stories are Drunk Will Show You, Everybody

YOUNGSTOWN, OH—In response to the shit he knows everyone is saying about him, local resident Todd Stenerud, after a prolonged drinking session, announced his intention to show you and everyone else just minutes before closing time at a local bar Monday.

"You people don't know [what] the fuck you're talking about," Stenerud announced from his stool at Dan's Pub. "You think I can't? Know what? I'll show you. I'll show everybody."

And the op-ed Baby, You Mean the World of Warcraft to Me

Come on, honey, why do you have to be like that? You know that you're my Elven princess. My one and only. I would dare say that there is no one in all the realm who doesn't know of our love. I have sung your praises from the mouth of the Shadowthread Cave to the Stranglethorn Vale of the Eastern Kingdoms. I've introduced you to my comrades-in-arms in the Ulster guild, and they all accept you as kin.

And now you want to dissolve the greatest love ever to brighten my basement?

As long as I'm linking to Onion-related funny, the AV Club's Summer Movie Preview, titled "Why Bother?" is out:

[E]very summer arrives with at least a few movies that threaten to give popcorn escapism a good name, movies like last year's Batman Begins and War Of The Worlds. With that in mind, The A.V Club humbly presents a list of reasons why you're probably better off skipping the multiplexes altogether this summer. Of course, we could be wrong.

X-Men: The Last Stand

What it's about: Those nutty X-Men are at it again, this time dealing with the ramifications of a supposed cure for mutants.

Why it's probably a waste of time: Four words: "Directed by Brett Ratner." No wait, six more words: "With Kelsey Grammer as The Beast."

Why it might be worth seeing anyway: Ratner's most infuriating trait, his inability to create a distinct directorial style, might serve him well here. The trailer makes this look like one of Bryan Singer's X-Men films. If Ratner apes those well enough, it might be okay.

Finally, I think this week's Games of our Lives, Circus Charlie, is pretty funny, if I do say so myself.

Gameplay: Are you ready to jump? You'd better be, because that's about all you'll be doing in Circus Charlie. There are six different levels, and the objectives range from easy (jumping through hoops of fire while riding a lion, jumping over monkeys while walking on a tightrope) to more difficult (jumping from one bouncy ball or trampoline to another) to nearly impossible (jumping from a moving horse to a springboard and back).

To succeed in Circus Charlie, you'll need to carefully use the joystick to set your speed as you time your jumps. However, that's the only skill you'll need to master, and once you've got that down, it'll be easy to reach for the high score—and to collect all the bags of money on each level so you can give yourself a sensual massage in all their bonus-point-delivering glory.

Could be mistaken for: Track & Field, Jump Jump Revolution

I remember being so disappointed the first time I played Circus Charlie back in the 80s, and how furious I was when I inadvertently played it several months later, unsure if it was "that one stupid jumping game that really sucked." In the quarter-centric economy of 1985, it was a significant hit to my otherwise robust portfolio, which was frequently invested in Mr. Do! and Super Pac-Man, with a much more successful return.

Posted by Wil at 4:13 PM | Permalink | Comments (11)

I had an incredibly vivid dream just before I woke up today about an earthquake, and when I got out of bed, I saw that there'd been a huge 'quake near Tonga.

I'm going to take a nap now, and hope that I dream about the Dodgers not blowing a huge lead late in the game, because my brother and I are going to the game tonight.

Posted by Wil at 2:15 PM | Permalink | Comments (9) | TrackBacks (1)

I was very spoiled by Teen Titans. It was a fantastically talented group of actors, writers, and animators, lead by passionate producers and one of the best directors I've ever had the pleasure of working with. I was crushed when the show was cancelled not only because it meant I wouldn't have the job, but because it meant that I wouldn't get to work with this incredible group of people several times a year any more.

When I found out that I would be working on Legion of Super Heroes, I was excited, but I kept my expectations in check . . . what were the odds of lightning striking twice?

Well, it turns out that those odds were 1:1. I had an absolute blast on Friday. The entire cast accepted me right away, and welcomed me into their show (they've been working together for eleven episodes, already) and made me feel like I was part of their team who had been there from the start. The producers, writers, and the director were just hawesome, and I can't wait to go back and work with them all again this week . . . because I'm a recurring character!

Oh yeah, baby. Recurring character. Sweet.

I know that Warner Brothers is very touchy about revealing too many details before they are announced (Marv Wolfman and I got our wrists slapped when we both mentioned something about Aqualad on our blogs when we worked together on Deep Six) but I got an okay from a highly-placed source to at least reveal that I am playing the part of Cosmic Boy, one of the founders of the Legion.

Finding Cosmic Boy's voice was fun: my instinct said that I should stand for him (he's sort of an arms-across-the-chest kind of guy) but with my damn hip hurting, I ended up sitting . . . big mistake. I struggled for the first act, until I could get the engineer to reset my mic so I could stand up. It's amazing what a huge difference a little thing like sitting vs. standing makes; it's the difference between playing outfield with or without a glove, or running with shoes that don't quite fit.

Standing up and settling into him let me bring Cosmic Boy to life, and really find his point of view about himself and his relationship with the other Legionaries. Once I knew who he was, and once he lived in me, I was able to do some really cool stuff. At one point in the last act, I felt so confident that I knew him, I even asked for a second take on a line where I thought I could play a more interesting beat than I did in the first take, which everyone on the other side of the glass was very happy with. I rarely ask for additional takes because if an actor is going to ask for a second pass he'd better have something really great to do, to justify the extra time and expense, and until recently I just haven't had the level of confidence as a voice actor necessary to pull that off.

I can't say exactly what dialogue or scene was, but you Meisner actors will probably grok this: there are three beats in the line. The first time I did it, I set him straight, enlightened him, and went one better. As soon as the words were out of my mouth, I realized that enlightening him and going one better were essentially the same beat, so I asked for another take where I set him straight, enlightened him, and shared bad news, which sort of went one better but was more specific and "shaded" differently and was more interesting. I felt an emotional connection to the words and the scene after the second take, and I guess the other actors did, too. One of them said, "Oh, I really liked that," and another said, "Dude, you're not Cosmic Boy; you're Actor Boy!" To which I replied (in a Ted Knight voice), "Yes, Actor Boy . . . who, in his disguise as Waiter Boy, keeps the city safe from doooom."  And there was much rejoicing.

I wish I could show or discuss the character models I saw while I was there, but I think that's a one-way ticket to unemployment . . . but they are really, really cool. I'm back again on Friday, and if Warner Brothers doesn't give me the cockpunch for what I've written here today, maybe I can get some permission to release a few more details. Now, I think I'm going to walk around my house and talk like Ted Knight.

"Meanwhile, in Wil's office, Ferris and Riley sleep on the floor, unaware that a mysterious stranger lurks just outside the wall. Can Actor Boy arrive in time to save them from doooooom? Only Monroe and Spaulding know for sure!"

Posted by Wil at 12:11 PM | Permalink | Comments (24) | TrackBacks (1)

I'm always careful not to post too many details about auditions, or the content of things I've worked on, because it usually freaks out the people who hired me, who want to maintain some mystery about their project, control the publicity, or reserve the right to keep the whole damn thing a secret until they are good and ready to share it with the world.

With that in mind, I haven't talked too specifically about the project that I booked yesterday. In fact, I figured I'd wait until I went to work, so I could ask the director (who is also the writer and creator) if it was cool to put out a few details, and maybe even a character model or two.

Well, I think it's okay to talk about the show a bit more now, because Jun, the director, e-mailed me this morning with a link to her blog all about the show!

The show is called Kyle + Rosemary, and I am Kyle. (That's Kyle on the right there, and Rosemary is down a bit on the left, for those of you who like reading obvious things that are put into parentheses and then become the subject of much meta-commentary by the writer, who feels the need to talk about himself in the third person, when the smart thing to do all along was just to delete the damn parenthetical statement and trust that his reader wouldn't need it anyway. But then the writer, who is really amusing himself by now, is all excited that he got to use the fifty-cent word "parenthetical" within a parenthetical, which is almost as good as having an intalicized footnote.[1])

Yesterday, I wrote "I felt such a connection with the character, and had so much fun looking at his character model and creating the voice and character it inspired . . ." so here's a little bit on how that works for me. Follow along with Kyle (who is on the right over there. See previous parenthetical statement, kthnx.)

When I go into the booth to do a character, I do different things with my body to make him come out of me. Aqualad is a little haughty, because he's a prince, so to create his voice and character, I sit straight up, with my back off the chair, put my hands on my knees (Ensign Ro-style) and hold my chin up when I talk. I don't know how all that comes together to create him, but I know that it works.

For Kyle, my initial voice was way too nerdy and cartoony. Once Jun showed me this drawing, I grokked him. I walked into the booth, let my shoulders slump a little bit, put my hands in my pockets, and sighed right before they rolled tape. She guided me, and Kyle came right out of me, like I'd known him for much longer than the five minutes I'd had his image in my mind.

Jun said some cool things about me on her blog

So, having completed voice casting, after much painful deliberation (there were many great candidates) I decided on Wil Wheaton for the voice of Kyle. I'd call this an inspired casting choice; for one thing, Wil is a self-proclaimed geek, and for another, he runs his own hawesome weblog, in which he professes his geek-ness several times a week.

[. . .]

[W]e as directors and creators go through the casting process with often rarely a thought to the multiple lines of actors and actresses trooping through, hoping to get parts on our shows based on the quickest of auditions - auditions where they have to drive across town for just a few minutes in front of a microphone, saying the same lines that everyone else says and hoping to stand out. They are just as excited to get a part as we are when we sell a show. It's really nice to have a little insight into their lives once in a while. Thanks for sharing, Wil!

See? I knew there was a reason I liked her so much. She cares about story, she cares about actors, and she's a geek blogger (I love the posts in her blog where her mom comments and says how proud she is. That rules.) So if a singularity shows up in Burbank next week, you totally know where to pin the blame (or at least start the investigation, though we'll be watching you from our newly-discovered higher plane of pure-energy existance, and totally screwing with you through the power of mental thinking.)

I still don't think it's cool to gve up too many details about the show, but I think it's safe to disclose that Kyle and Rosemary meet in a MMORPG, and the show takes place both in the game, where I will get to voice Kyle's alter ego, Sir Horace, and in the real world, where Kyle and Rosemary can't hang out, because she is a goth and he is a geek. There are some storyboards of their in-game alter-egos on Jun's blog, if you want to see them. Oh, and when I voice Sir Horace? I totally stand tall, push out my chest, and put my hands on my hips. When I speak, I take one hand and stab at the air with it, because he is so totally heroic. And the transition from Sir Horace back into Kyle? Way too much fun.

Now I'm off to Shane's house to pick up my nerd cape. And don't even ask how it got there, because I'm not telling (though you can probably get Annie to tell you if you ask her nicely enough, and bribe her with coffee.)

[1] Yeah, it's still good.

Posted by Wil at 1:36 PM | Permalink | Comments (54) | TrackBacks (1)

From Seth Godin's blog:

A long line at the American Airlines counter. Finally, a particularly well-dressed man gets to the front, loudly announcing that he wants to check in for first class.

The harried agent does her best, but there's no room. He starts getting louder and more angry. He's blathering about his power and authority.

She tries to placate him, but to no avail.

Finally, he yells, "Do you know who I am?"

Without missing a beat, the gate agent grabs the microphone. "Attention in the gate area. We have a medical emergency. The man at gate 11 has just suffered a serious bout of amnesia. If anyone recognizes him, can they please come forward and help him?"

Posted by Wil at 9:37 AM | Permalink | Comments (32) | TrackBacks (1)

Remember the audition I had last week at Nickelodeon?

I had a crush on this project as soon as I read the breakdown. After I met the director and grokked what sort of story she wants to tell, I was hopelessly in love with the project. I really, really hope I get this job.

I don't spend a lot of time thinking about jobs after an audition. In fact, I have a ritual where I take my sides, and dump them into the first trash can or recycling bin I find, so I can let go of the whole thing, and put it into the hands of The Universe -- or a higher power, like the producers. But this one was different. I felt such a connection with the character, and had so much fun looking at his character model and creating the voice and character it inspired, I thought about the show every day, and called my manager about it several times.

I probably shouldn't disclose too many details about the story that I auditioned for, but it is a wonderful, funny, charming animated short about a geek and a goth who are starcrossed lovers.

I'm sure you're all surprised to hear that I read for the geek. I used my sense memories to recall the Kyra crush and did my best to be the kind of guy who "you want to take his glasses off, and mess up his hair, because he's so cute and he doesn't know it," according to the director, who I really, really liked.

Just now, as I was about to make my daily call to see if we'd heard anything, the phone rang (true story). It was my manager.

"Remember [name of project]?" He said.

"You mean the one I call you about every single day?" I said.

"Yes, that one." He laughed. "You got it."

I lept out of my chair and hollered. "What?! Are you serious?!" Which is a stupid thing to holler, because he wouldn't call me if he wasn't. "Really? I really got the job?" Which is also a stupid thing to say, but I'm passing this one off on the surge of adrenaline and seratonin my brains released upon receiving the news.

"Yep. I called to see if they had made a decision yet, and [casting executive] told me that she was just about to call me with the news!" He went on to tell me that the director could have picked anyone in the whole world to do this part, and she chose me.

I'm going to say that again: she could have picked anyone she wanted, and she chose me. Man, that feels so good. I mean, it feels tasp good.

I hung up the phone and ran around the house like a hummingbird being chased by a dog that shoots bees from its mouth.

After all the times I've written about the audition that went great, but didn't work out, or the audition that was a lot of fun, but it turns out I'm not edgy enough, it's so insanely awesome to write about one where I not only had a great time, but actually get to do more than just the audition sides. When this show is animated and released, for the rest of time, I will be the actor who helped bring that guy to life -- and I really love this character. I am so excited! Squee!

Anyway, I had a blast reading for this project, and I was so excited when I left, I totally forgot to steal a camphone snap of the hawesome four foot tall SpongeBob made out of LEGO in the lobby. If I get the job, or the next time I'm at Nick, I'll grab a picture of it on my way in, because I'm usually skipping with nerdy excitment whenever I'm on my way out.

I'll be sure to snag a picture of the giant LEGO SpongeBob on my way in when I record my dialogue next Wednesday or Thursday, and I'm taking a gift to Don, the most awesome security guy ever, who works at Nick and is always so awesome to me when I go there for an audition.

Posted by Wil at 6:44 PM | Permalink | Comments (116) | TrackBacks (3)

I've been busy today. I wrote next week's Games of our Lives, did some top secret Team PokerStars stuff that I can't wait to announce, wrote two articles for CardSquad (Yet Another Interview with Wil and Why Didn't Mike Nail Petra? The Writers of "Rounders" Finally Reveal the Answer) and read the script for Legion of Super Heroes which I'm recording on Friday.

It's really cool, and I totally can't say anything about it until I get a thumbs up from Warner Brothers, but I believe the phrase that the damn kids today use to describe my feeling upon reading the script is "ZOMG!"  When the script says, "ENERGY CORUSCATES around him until the power is too strong . . ." you know you're working on something hawesome.

Posted by Wil at 5:20 PM | Permalink | Comments (9)

Last week, Otis asked me if I'd write a few words for the PokerStars newsletter about how acting and poker mix together, and if I'd discuss how acting has helped my poker game.

I tried to answer intelligently and keep it brief, but since it takes me 200 words to say hello to someone, it shouldn't be a big surprise that I ended up sending Otis a little over 2800 words about acting, poker, and Almost Famous. I was so long-winded, in fact, that Otis ended up using the power of the fully-operational PokerStars blog to handle the Alderaan-destroying mountain of words I sent.

If you're interested in the poker stuff, or want to know how I've been able to combine my acting experience with my poker game, you can read the whole thing at the PokerStars blog.

For the rest of you, here's a little bit about acting that you don't have to be a poker geek to follow:

As an actor:
1) I have to be completely connected to the other actors in the scene, so my character understands what the other characters are doing, why they are doing it, and I (as the actor) can allow my character to react naturally and realistically. rather than "acting."
2) I have to completely commit to everything that my character does, and allow my character's memories, beliefs, and prior experiences (that I have made up) to truly _live_ in me, like they are real, so that all the unconscious physical signals that come with different emotions happen naturally, rather than as a result of "acting."

For an actor, getting caught "acting" is worse than a poker player getting caught bluffing; it's more like getting caught cheating. So we actors work very hard to make sure it never happens.

[. . .]

One of my favorite examples of this is from Almost Famous. Kate Hudson, as Penny Lane, asks Patrick Fugit, as William Miller, if he'll go with her to Morocco.

When she asks him, they've been running around a park together, and it's clear to the audience that they're falling in love. It's really charming to watch, and unless you're deeply cynical, it's tough to not smile with them, recalling the first time you fell in love.

"I've made a decision, I'm gonna live in Morocco for one year. I need a new crowd. Do you wanna come?" She says.

"Yes!" He says.

"Are you sure?" She says.

He looks at her, like he was completely lost in her, and says, "Ask me again."

She flushes, and she says, more intently, "Do you want to come?"

"Yes! Yes!" He says, as some seventies power ballad starts to play.

According to director Cameron Crowe, Patrick asked Kate to ask him again, because he'd been staring at her, and just got lost in that moment, so he missed his line. But he was still in the scene, so he asked her exactly the way he would have if it had been real. Kate stayed focused on him, stayed in the scene, and asked him again, so we have this incredibly wonderful moment of two people falling in love that probably has many of you running to Netflix to queue it up right now. If either one of them hadn't been completely focused on each other, that moment (which would have been impossible to script) never would have happened. If we'd caught them "acting," it would have ruined that moment, and the whole movie would have suffered as a result.

Did I pique your interest? Heh. So go on, read the whole thing. You know you want to.

Posted by Wil at 11:29 AM | Permalink | Comments (23)

I didn't notice until just now that Montreal has reached critical mass! I'm shocked that the demand grew so quickly, but right now there are 91 people who want to see me do my thing (or a puppet show, I'm not good with French) and that's enough for me to track down a bookstore and get things worked out.

CruiseTrek embarks on Saturday, 24 June (I wrote it that way just for you, Montreal) and I'm committed to some CruiseTrek festivities on Friday, 23 June, so whatever I do in Montreal will happen on Thursday 22 June. That's also good for all you Browncoats up there, who would totally have to blow me off if my puppet show conflicted with the charity screenings of Serenity on the 23rd. Update: Shit. That's actually extremely bad news for you Browncoats; the only day I can do a performance and signing is the 22nd, because I'm committed on the 23rd. I don't think it's appropriate for me to jump onto any Serenity screenings or anything like that, because not everyone who is going to be there will appreciate me taking up any of their time, and if I understand it correctly, most of the people who have joined this demand are Serenity fans who. I'll see if I can work out something in the late afternoon on Friday, before my evening commitments commence, but this event may end up not happening this time around. %$#@!.

I know nothing about Montreal's book store scene, so if someone can help point me at an indie bookstore that wants to feel the love, leave some info in comments or e-mail wil at wilwheaton dot net.

I'm working on finalizing a venue for Boston today. I'll post those details (and updates on Montreal) as soon as I have them.

Oh, and a quick note about demands: the critical mass is always going to vary from city to city, based on what it costs me to get there, the venues, and some other factors. I set critical mass for these two events at 75 because I figured that would be a sufficient number to get the attention of bookstore owners. It's unlikely that critical mass will be lower than 100 or 150 for most events, just based on stupid economics.

Posted by Wil at 7:44 AM | Permalink | Comments (20) | TrackBacks (2)

This weekend started out on an exceptionally high note: on my way to Dodger Stadium to meet my parents for the Arizona game, I got a call from my manager: one of the producers from Teen Titans is now working on Legion of Superheroes, and wanted to cast me for a part on the new show. I don't know any details, yet, like if it's a one-time voice, or a recurring character or what, but I'm working on Friday! Go me!

The Dodger game was superexcellent. Not only did I get to spend an evening with my wife and my parents, but it was a great game that the Dodgers actually managed to hold on and win. Go Dodgers!

Saturday, I bought some new shoes and a new belt  (trust me, this is very exciting) before Anne and I met our friends at Dave and Busters and goofed off for hours. I am the master of coin-flipping soccer, and I have over 20,000 tickets and nothing worth redeeming. Go me (but really go Dave and Busters for making a game that I love to play with no tangible reward . . . yet.)

Sunday, I started the day with some marathon training, but I only got one mile done before I got the goddamn pain in my right side that keeps ruining me. Maybe someone knows what the hell is going on: occasionally, I'll go out for a jog, and after about two blocks, this tightness starts in my right hip that spreads up my stomach and eventually into my ribs on my right side. Once it starts, it takes about one minute to take over the right side of my body and hurts so severely I can't even take a deep breath, much less keep running. I always end up just turning around and walking home, because I've learned that I can't even walk it out, because it's much more (and worse) than a simple stitch in my side; it's more of a crippling muscle freak out. The worst thing is that I get pissed because my cardio system is fine, the rest of my body feels fine, but I absolutely can't even jog a half a block. What the hell? I'm only 33 years old, and I can't even run a block? Why can't my fucking body just work?! Can you tell that I'm getting pissed just thinking about it?

Anyway, after that unfortunately aborted attempt to get out and exercise, I came home and played some poker online. I played a one table sit-n-go tournament (where you just wait for 9 players to sit down and you go, hence the name.) I got knocked out with my pocket kings vs. ace queen when he caught an ace on the river to bust me. I wasn't upset, though, because I made the right decision on the play, and he just got lucky. I've noticed that when I play at limits I can really afford and I just focus on being decision (rather than result) oriented, I always have a good time and I'm much happier playing, whether I win or lose.

I was talking about this revelation with my friends CJ and Alan, when CJ talked me into playing a three table (27 player) sit-n-go. I had some time to kill while I waited for Anne and Ryan to get home, and Nolan was asleep on the couch (so no guitar hero) so I signed up and played my little heart out.

Dude, I totally won! It only cost $11 to enter, and I won $100 for first place! I was extremely happy with all the decisions I made, including when I made a four-card diamond flush with AT to suckout on a guy who had AA, then fell on the other side of that hand when I was heads-up at the end, with JJ vs something totally lame like T3 suited and he caught a diamond on the end to make his flush. Go me again again!

Anne and Ryan got home right after I finished that tourney, and she wanted to take a nap (yeah, I have a real nap-happy family) so Ryan and I went over to the movie theatre to watch Silent Hill.

I've played about 40% of Silent Hill 2, but I didn't have any expectations for the film, really, and mostly went because Ryan really wanted to see it (he can't see R-rated films on his own for another four months. Excuse me while I process that reality and have a minor heart attack.)

I really, really liked it. It looks very creepy and spooky (just like the game) and the visual effects are really fantastic. The monsters (especially Red Pyramid and all the bugs) are terrifying, the music is great, the casting is perfect, and though the whole thing requires a some suspension of disbelief, the story is quite solid. In fact, about halfway through the movie, I thought to myself, "Man, this is really quite deep for a horror movie. I wonder why?" When the credits rolled and I saw that it had been written by Roger Avary, I totally understood. Go Roger.

After the movie, we came home and the entire family settled in for some Simpsons (fairly funny, but the over-reliance on musical montages this season is really getting on my nerves) Family Guy (more Stewie-as-gymnast, please) and American Dad (I don't know how they made an entire episode about anal probing hilarious, but they did) before the rest of my family went to sleep, leaving me to read Cell in alone in the living room where the zombies can totally get me. I eventually watched Survivorman (my new favorite show on cable television) before drifting off to sleep, blissfully content at the end of a fun-filled weekend.

Posted by Wil at 4:48 PM | Permalink | Comments (46)

As of this writing, there are 79 demands for me to come to Boston, which is certainly over the critical mass of 75.

The next step for me is to contact a couple of places, and see if they can host me for a reading and signing. A lot of people have suggested Porter Square Books, a "fiercely independent" store that's in Cambridge. That's close enough to Boston Metro Area, isn't it? Thats the first place I'll contact tomorrow morning. If you're a Bostonian, and you have a connection to, or can suggest a venue, please leave info in comments or e-mail me. I'm wil at wilwheaton dot net.

See you in Boston!

Posted by Wil at 5:32 PM | Permalink | Comments (76) | TrackBacks (1)

Oh boy! I've been invited back to CruiseTrek! This year, the cruise is called The French Connection. It sails at the end of June from Montreal through Saguenay Fjord (where I'll be waving to Slartibartfast) around Nova Scotia, finally ending up in Boston. I've only been to Montreal once, when I worked on a show eons ago called Sirens, but I absolutely loved it, and I'm thrilled to go back. And Boston? One of the highlights of my life was playing goal in the Boston Garden, and as an American history geek (thank you very much, School House Rock) there are few cities in the country that rival Boston for awesome walking tours and museums.

But here is a huge bonus: Using Eventful, I've discovered that there are demands for me in both Montreal (currently 20) and Boston (currently 49). I know that time is relatively short, but I think this is a fantastic opportunity to see if this demand idea works. If you're interested in seeing me for a reading and book signing in either of these cities, join the demands. Critical mass for both cities should be 75 people, which I think would convince a book store to schedule an in-store appearance with just about eight weeks' notice, and make it worth my time to spend an extra day in each city (Montreal's event would probably happen on Thursday the 22nd of June, and Boston's would happen on Saturday, July 1st or Sunday, July 2nd.) We have to move pretty quickly, though, because I have to book my travel by the end of next week. So if you're into seeing me in either one of these cities, join the demand and spread the word! You can get stickers for Montreal here, and stickers for Boston here.

I spoke with Charlie from CruiseTrek this morning: the cruise is nearly sold out, but I understand that it's still possible to get on board. If you're interested in a truly hawesome vacation with a whole slew of geeks, you can't do much better than CruiseTrek. And there will be poker. Oh, yes, there will be poker.

Posted by Wil at 12:43 PM | Permalink | Comments (32)

Two tickets from TicketBastard: $52

Parking: $10

Four Dodger Dogs, two sodas: $27

Crushing heads with my stepson: Priceless

Watching the Los Angeles Dodgers of Los Angeles blow a one-run lead in the 8th to lose to the Cubs: Sadly predictable.

Posted by Wil at 11:08 AM | Permalink | Comments (23)

I had an audition for a voice over at Nickelodeon yesterday. The only problem is, I, uh, didn't know about it, because the details on the reading came via e-mail during a period of a couple days last week when all e-mail sent to me went flying off into the gamma quadrant of the Zarkon V Nebula.

Luckily for me, the director of this project was really into reading me, and we were able to reschedule for this morning.

Okay, I know I'm supposed to maintain some professional detachment, so when I don't get the job it's less of a disappointment, but I had a crush on this project as soon as I read the breakdown. After I met the director and grokked what sort of story she wants to tell, I was hopelessly in love with the project. I really, really hope I get this job.

I've talked about how much I like going to Nick in the past, but I'll just do it again for those of you who didn't listen to RFB #4: Nickelodeon just feels good to me. It's not intimidating like Disney, it's not corporate like some other places, and I really feel like I'm walking right into a Nickelodeon cartoon. Some of my happiest childhood television memories are of Nickelodeon shows, like You Can't Do That on Television, Mr. Wizard, The Third Eye (SCARY!) and Danger Mouse, too, and I did lots of things with Nickelodeon when I was a teen idol, including getting slimed several times and hosting the Kid's Choice Awards, so I think that makes it easier for me to find a happy place when I audition for any Nickelodeon shows.

The other reason I always find a happy place at Nickelodeon is entirely due to the guard who works the parking garage gate there. I don't know his name[1], but he is one of the kindest, warmest, and friendliest guards people I've ever encountered. I realized today that he plays a very big part in why I love going to Nick so much, and why I always give good auditions there.

He is the first person I encounter when I pull up. He is a gentle, grandfatherly, white-haired man in his late 60s, and always seems to be smiling. He always makes me feel at ease, and gives me (and everyone else who comes in, I'm sure) the impression that he really wants me to book the job, like it matters to him, and he believes in me. I realized today that I've always picked up a bit of his kindness and warmth and carried it in with me. It's nice to be so utterly at ease when I walk into an audition, you know? It makes a big difference.

I probably shouldn't disclose too many details about the story that I auditioned for, but it is a wonderful, funny, charming animated short about a geek and a goth who are starcrossed lovers.

I'm sure you're all surprised to hear that I read for the geek. I used my sense memories to recall the Kyra crush and did my best to be the kind of guy who "you want to take his glasses off, and mess up his hair, because he's so cute and he doesn't know it," according to the director, who I really, really liked.

I honestly don't know if I'll get the job, because I'm worried about how deep and manly my awesome voice is. Even though I know I can get the teenage voice down to second nature wth enough practice, I have done this long enough to know that when someone else comes in and nails it, they always hire the "nailed it" guy over the "could nail it with enough practice" guy. That's just science, and you can't argue with science (unless you're one of those "global warming is a myth and evolution doesn't exist" moonbats, in which case arguing with science is sort of your whole reason for existing, right?)

Anyway, I had a blast reading for this project, and I was so excited when I left, I totally forgot to steal a camphone snap of the hawesome four foot tall SpongeBob made out of LEGO in the lobby. If I get the job, or the next time I'm at Nick, I'll grab a picture of it on my way in, because I'm usually skipping with nerdy excitment whenever I'm on my way out.

Whether I book this job or not, I'll be watching for it when it airs, and I'll be sure to post about it, because it's the type of show that I know WWdN readers will love.

[1] In comments, formerlyme says, "Hey Wil, I used to work at Nick. I know exactly who you're talking about. His name is Don, and he's the most awesome security guy ever."

Posted by Wil at 3:03 PM | Permalink | Comments (35) | TrackBacks (2)

A week before I wrote about our plans to do the San Diego Rock-n-Roll marathon in June, I seriously tweaked my neck. I'd like to thank Hwy. 18 and all the snow that kept us on said highway for seven hours instead of an hour and a half like it should have been. I was with two girlfriends, both of whom were scared to death to be driving in the snow while I sat in the back seat, appearing calm, but leaning to the center of the seat to look out the front window of doom, all the while clenching my teeth. Thus, tweaked neck. [Note from Wil: The next time I beg Anne not to go up into the mountains during one of the worst storms in a decade, because "it's just a really bad idea," there's a 20% chance she'll listen to me.]

Before this weekend of white dusted hell, we were well into our training, and very excited to start our fundraising. As I sat writing about it (pumped full of every pain medication I could find and a heat pack around my neck,) I figured I would be up and running in no time and going full speed ahead with big plans of dashing through 26.2 miles with ease. Boy was I wrong!

My neck continued to get worse. All I could do was lay down. I missed almost three weeks of work, and I got so freaked out by the pain I made Wil take me to an orthopedist to get an MRI, because when one of your friends has cancer, suddenly every minor ache or pain you get could be cancer, too. He said it was just a really bad muscle spasm and had me start physical therapy immediately. I did this for a couple of weeks, and of course being the over-doing it person I am, I went back to work as soon as it felt better, only to tweak it more and end up in physical therapy again. [Note from Wil: The next time I say, "Hey, you really shouldn't push it, honey, and give yourself a little bit more time to heal," there is a 25% chance Anne will listen to me.]

Fast forward to five weeks later and it's back to the marathon training drawing board. Instead of looking at doing ten miles on the weekend, we're struggling to run two miles without stopping. How are we going to do the whole 26.2 miles when it's just six weeks away? Um, I'm thinking that's not a good idea. Let's be realistic.

I had dinner with Kris in between one of those "I'm feeling better" moments. The first thing she said was "How are you going to run that whole marathon?" Yeah, I was thinking the same thing. So I came up with a solution: a half marathon was definitely do-able. And making our fundraising goal a little more within reach would make us all not freak out about this whole thing. So that's what we're going to do. Our fundraising goal has been pulled back to $10,000, so we're already halfway there, and our distance goal has been cut in half, to a more realistic 13.1 miles.

As for Kris' progress, she's doing great! Her biopsy came back clean, and though it is six months to two years before she will know if the transplant was a success, she is at home and back on her feet. In fact, she recently went on a road trip with her son to look at colleges. It's so wonderful that not only is her dream of seeing her son graduate going to happen, but she will get to see him go to college next year.

Also, her husband is finally doing the addition they've talked about doing for the 15 years they've lived in their house, which is another thing to look forward to. And her huge family reunion she looks forward to every other year is in Lake Tahoe in June. She's so excited to see them. Her treatment was definitely worth going through again. And, honestly, it was worth it from my selfish point of view, too. I didn't want to lose my friend, so I'm so happy she fought back and won.

Although Wil and I had every intention of doing this full marathon again, sometimes things just happen. And in my 36 years here, I have learned that everything happens for a reason. Good or bad. But we just do the best we can. [Note from Wil: Life is what happens while you're making other plans, in other words.]

So if you would like to contribute to our fundraising efforts, you can do it here. Even if it's just five dollars, or whatever change you can collect from around your car or your couch it really matters; so many people read Wil's blog, tiny individual contributions rapidly turn into enormous and significant totals.

Note from Wil: I sincerely hope that our choice to switch to a half-marathon doesn't let down anyone who already sponsored us. We're doing the very best we can under some really stressful circumstances that I can't publicly talk about, and it looks like we're going to end up walking most of the (half)marathon in June. To me, it feels like a major defeat and I'm disappointed that we aren't going to be able to do the whole thing, but this isn't really about me and Anne; this is about Kris and her family and everyone who has somehow been affected by cancer. Thank you all so much for your support, whether it's sponsorship, kind comments, or just a positive thought while you're walking your dog.

The original "Comments from the Wife" posts are: 3.0, 3.1, 3.2, 3.3, 3.4, 3.5, 3.6, 4.0. You may also want to read the first Comments from the Wife: in Exile.

Posted by Wil at 11:18 AM | Permalink | Comments (33)

There are a several benefits to being on Team PokerStars. The most obvious is that I get to work with a company that feels like a family, and I get to occasionally pose for Magnificent Seven-style photos with the likes of Joe Hachem, Chris Moneymaker, Greg Raymer, and Isabelle Mercier.

The second most obvious is that I get to play in a few big tournaments each year, most notably the World Series of Poker and the World Championship of Online Poker, while flying the Team PokerStars flag.

The least obvious is that I get to play high-stakes heads-up (just two player) matches several times a year, against some of the best opponents in the world, in a weekly match that PokerStars calls the Tournament Leaderboard Winner Match.

Isabelle was supposed to play in the heads-up match this week, but was unavailable, so I got called off the bench to represent the team . . . and I totally won!

So this morning, before my PokerStars TLB Winner Heads-Up Match,  I went through my pre-tourney rituals (reviewing some well-worn notes from Absinthe, paging through Harrington, a little meditation, and a brisk walk around my yard to shake everything off and just focus on the game) and sat down hoping that I'd catch cards when I needed them, and make more good decisions than bad.

[. . .]

I got very lucky and caught some good hands right around the time my opponent (who played a very good, solid match) started to hit a place where a standard raise was about 20% of his stack, and I was able to apply pressure at some key points (I'm not good enough to explain what those points are, I just sort of know when they come up, I guess)  so I was able to start raising with K-rag, J-rag, and the one little pair I caught, knowing that he would only play back with a real hand. That let me steal some blinds and keep his M low enough to set him up for playing at me with a weak hand, I hoped.

I really like heads-up play, and I'm beginning to think that I don't completely suck at it. I'm 1-1 when I'm scheduled for myself, and 2-0 when I'm filling in for someone else (I filled in for 2005 WSOP Champion Joe Hachem a couple of weeks ago and won that match.) I also play these 4-player, two round heads-up tournaments at PokerStars pretty frequently, and I'm a lifetime winner there, as well. (Those are great; you risk one buy-in to win three if you beat two opponents.)

Okay, I'm totally starting to speak in poker code, so if I haven't lost you entirely, you can read the full story at Cardsquad.

Technorati Tags: poker, pokerstars

Posted by Wil at 3:23 PM | Permalink | Comments (27) | TrackBacks (2)

Well, I turned in Games of Our Lives, and I get to walk away from the computer and do some marathon training, but before I go, I thought I'd point out some of the stories I've worked on recently at CardSquad and SGNews:

At SGNews, (which is safe for work):

• I edited a story that Seanbaby wrote about Lara Croft entering the Guinness Book of World Records. Seanbaby is hellafunny, and his story cracked me up.

• I also wrote two stories of my own, about a disposable MP3 player that just costs nine bucks, and a story about Apple offering (or not offering) adult movies in the iTunes Music Store.

• There's also a story I wrote last week about this guy who modded a 1988 Ford Escort into a street legal Landspeeder. For reals. It's a story that I'm particularly proud of, because I got to work in a ton of geek jokes.

At CardSquad:

• I opine that the F-Bomb Rule has got to go.

• Also, Bodog was sued over their reality show, which is quite a lucky bit of free publicity for them, just a few days before the show is set to air.

In poker-related news, this Sunday I'm filling in for Isabelle Mercier in the Tournament Leaderboard Heads-Up match at PokerStars. Two weeks ago, I filled in for Joe Hachem and won, bringing my record in those matches to 3 and 1. I'm hoping to make it 4 and 1 this week. Even if you don't have a PokerStars account, you can download the client for free and watch me play, if you'd like. I'll put up all the details on that later this week.

Okay, I'm off to run, then walk, then run a little bit more, then curse about how much my side hurts, then run again. Anne will have a post about the marathon in the next day or so, maybe even tonight if I can bug her enough to write it.

. . . one last thought, because I think it's important to mark moments like this: I have a really great life, and I'm incredibly grateful for that. I can head out at 1:10 in the afternoon on a Wednesday, after writing stuff that I'm proud of and enjoyed working on all morning, to train for a marathon that I'm running in to raise money for cancer research in June. Later today, I'll get to play Risk with Ryan and Nolan, then watch Lost tonight after having BBQ for dinner with my family. And I know that, if my dog could talk, she'd say, "I love you, Wil, so I'm going to keep hitting you with my paw until you get up, take me outside, and throw the ball."

Okay, maybe it's more about the ball than it is about me, but I'm still one of the luckiest guys in the world.

Posted by Wil at 1:11 PM | Permalink | Comments (21)

Remember that one time in Encounter At Farpoint when Counselor Troi wailed out, "Pain! Pain!"

Remember when Mr. Spock was all, "Pain! Pain!" which was totally not Vulcan-like?

Remember when [Lost spoiler redacted]?

Remember that time your company had a Christmas party, and instead of a band, they got an Agony Booth?

Yeah, that's me right now. Yesterday, I was smashing some trash down in the trashcan beneath the sink, and I learned that a dogfood can lid on its side is an incredibly efective cutting tool, especially against the top of my thumb, just across the knuckle.

If you ever want to see what the inside of your thumb looks like, or you want to bleed twenty-three gallons of blood all over your house on your way from the kitchen to the bathroom (because, having seen the inside of your thumb, you're kind of in shock and don't stop to think, "Hey, there's a sink right here, dummy, don't go all the way across the house to the bathroom!") or you'd just like to watch your normal typing rate drop by 90%, this is a great way to do that.

Oh, and as an added bonus? You get to wake up about every 90 minutes all night long, because your thumb is throbbing, itching, or both. And if you play your cards right, you'll get to have a tetanus shot, too.

Yeah. Goodtimes. Good. Times.

Hopefully, I'll be back to normal by Thursday, but until then, probably not so much new spiffy stuff here or elsewhere, because typing is a real bitch right now.

Afterthought: a bunch of people have asked why I didn't have the deadly lid and the can in the recycling, where it belongs. That's a good question; unfortunately, the answer is: I just didn't walk the lid out there, and the can was being used to hold bacon grease (gross.) If it makes a difference, I've had PTSD every time I've gone anywhere near the sink in the last 24 hours. And I'm on my way to the hospital to get a tetanus shot tonight, instead of waiting for my regular doctor tomorrow afternoon.

11 PM - Aaaaannnnd I'm back. I went to urgent care at 8, because "that would be faster than the ER," logic which apparently comes from the run-across-the-house-while-bleeding portion of the brains.

Okay, it actually was a lot faster than the ER, and I had no business being in the ER with my gaping and life-threatening little wussy cut anyway . . . but let's be honest with each other: didn't "that would be faster than the ER," logic which apparently comes from the run-across-the-house-while-bleeding portion of the brains make you giggle a little bit? I'm glad, because nothing makes a joke funnier than pointing it out, and going on and on about it.

The attending was impressed with my butterfly sutures and my splinting, didn't laugh at my totally awesome pirate bandage, and gave me a tetanus booster before sending me on my way with no need for making-Wil-faint stitches. I was going to ask for a "be nice to be cuz I've been shot" sticker, with the teddy bear and the hearts and bows, but I figured that being able to take a rusty nail without fear until I'm forty-three years-old was good enough.

Posted by Wil at 6:39 PM | Permalink | Comments (77) | TrackBacks (2)

How about if I wait six weeks to call. I could tell her I found her number while I was cleaning out my wallet, I can't remember where we met. I'll ask her what she looks like and then I'll ask her if we fucked. How about that? Would that be money?
    -Mike, Swingers

There aren't any real developments on the Sci-Fi hosting front, and I only have one really great Fark Cliche left, which is why I haven't written about it recently. Like I said before, I have to just let go of these things after a certain point, accept that it's entirely out of my hands, and keep moving forward with everything else in my life.

But so many people sent me supportive e-mails and left supportive comments, I didn't want to leave you all hanging with nothing, so here's what I know: we followed up last week, and found out, for certain, that the people responsible for the show really liked what I did. As far as I know, I'm at the top of their list for the job. But we haven't heard anything from the network people, who are ultimately responsible for making all the decisions.

And that's where we've been, sort of floating in the doldrums on the Sea of Waiting. As far as I know, the show is still going to happen. As far as I know, when it does, I'm one of the first guys they are going to talk to about hosting it. And as soon as we open the box, I'll let you know if the cat is dead or alive.

Until I know something new, let's all ponder the meaning of life with these owls:

Posted by Wil at 11:40 AM | Permalink | Comments (41)

The kids are on Spring Break this week. Anne and Ryan are up in HellaNorCal, checking out colleges, and Nolan and I are hanging out with the dogs until they get back.

It's been a really fun week so far: lots of Magic: The Gathering, Brawl tournaments, The Los Angeles Dodgers of Los Angeles on TV, and walks with the dogs around the neighborhood when it isn't raining.

I've also introduced him to Lost, and I have the feeling that he'll run through Season One on DVD in five days, just like I did. Hopefully, he won't become as hopelessly just-jam-it-into-my-veins addicted to the show as I am (I'm only up to Episode 4 of Season Two, so if you're going to comment, please don't post any spoilers, okay? I reserve a special type of wrath for that sort of thing) but I managed to hook him on Battlestar Galactica this way, and I apologize for nothing. Nothing!!1one!

Sorry. I got a little carried away there.

So.

I've always felt that, as a parent, my job (and greatest hope) is to help my kids grow into the kind of adult that I'd be proud of, and I'd like to spend time with, even if we weren't family: honest, honorable, generous, compassionate, and responsible. Sometimes, as part of the whole Pod People experience, I feel like those efforts are failing. Add the bonus of the really great and neverending loyalty conflict game (that I refuse to play, but have to deal with, anyway,) and it's easy to wonder if any of the work will ever pay off. It's been easy to lose hope.

But over the last couple of months, I've come to believe that the Pods were actually Chrysalises, because it feels like both Ryan and Nolan have emerged as young adults whose company I really enjoy (and I believe the feeling is mutual.) The moments of irrationality are still there, and I'm sure that I am still so lame from time to time, but I have lots and lots of hope.

If you're a parent dealing with a Pod Person, don't give up. One day, you may wake to discover that your Pod Person has vanished as quickly as it arrived, leaving behind an honest, honorable, generous, compassionate, and responsible young adult.


Technorati Tags: parenting

Posted by Wil at 3:54 PM | Permalink | Comments (21) | TrackBacks (1)

I ended up watching a few minutes of VH1 Classic before I fell asleep last night, and, uh, i kind of watched this crazy old video of Kenny Loggins.

It was totally rad, with the whites blowing out and the occasional old VHS noise, and the slightly greenish skin tones. He was playing an outdoor concert which was just filled with girls in tube tops and guys with horrible Kenny Loggins-esque beards, and the whole thing looked pretty stinky and coked-out. If that wasn't enough evidence that it was the early 80s, he was playing I'm Alright, from Caddyshack, which is one of my guilty pleasure tunes (I didn't realize until last night that it contains the lyric "No, no, cannonball it right away.")

So far, we're okay, but you may want to prepare to throw up in your mouth a little bit:  he was wearing white ankle-high boots, a huge, puffy red jumpsuit with a novelty-sized belt around his waist, the obligatory rock-n-roll mullet, and seriously rocking out with his bad self while strumming an acoustic guitar.

Maybe I'm uptight, maybe I just don't understand the rock like I think I do, but when he ran around the stage during a guitar solo (which he wasn't playing; he had his 12-string a-strummin') and jumped up on a raised platform so he could kick an amp off the stage, I didn't think, "Oh man, that guy is a hardcore rockstar!" as much as I thought, "Uh, what the hell was that all about?"

I changed the channel when the Top Gun song started. There was no way I could endure shots of L. Ron Cruise after that.

Posted by Wil at 5:13 PM | Permalink | Comments (38)

Shane posted this picture of a mystery hotel in his blog over the weekend, and I suggested to him that it would be cool to have writers post short stories that it inspires.

I'll be honest: I'm terrified right now, before I hit publish and send this out into the wild. I'm not the best in the world at brevity, and whenever I attempt fiction, I feel incredibly self conscious.

I also made the mistake of reading Otis' story after I wrote mine, and I feel (like I often do when I read Otis' writing) like a kid who belongs at the card table, pretending to sit down in the dining room with the adults.

So now that I've managed to lower your expectations to UPN-like standards, please enjoy. . .

Room 302
by Wil

Farnsworth frowned as he shuffled the photos. He dropped them on his desk and looked over the top of his reading glasses.

"I can't use any of these, son. I can hardly see the men, and there's too much whitespace in here." He picked up one photo and pointed at the tin ceiling. Martin recalled how brightly it had reflected the flash, and how the younger man had flinched in the light. 

"Mr. Farnsworth --"

"Look, you're a good kid, and even if your photos aren't always front page material, you rarely let me down."

"Thank you, sir."

"I know that you have a baby on the way, but I can't pay you for photos that I can't use." He leaned back in his chair and folded his hands across his chest. "Hotels don't stay in one family and celebrate their hundredth anniversary every day, though, so it's news that I need to run. So why don't you go back to the hotel, get a closer shot of the Ellisons, and I'll pay you double for it." Farnsworth smiled, and put the photos into an envelope.

"I'll see what I can do, sir. Thank you." Martin took the envelope and traded the quiet of Farnsworth's office for the chaos of the newsroom.

Martin needed the money, and it was important to keep a man like Richard Farnsworth happy. Evelyn was due in two months, and these freelance newspaper jobs were all he had.

But he wasn't going back into the Ellison, today or ever. There was something very, very wrong there, and Martin felt it in his soul when he walked up the stairs into the second floor lobby. Those men were terrified, and Martin wanted to get out of there before he found out why.

He took the number five bus home, and left the envelope on the seat when he got off. The sooner he could get way from it, the sooner he could begin the long process of wiping that feeling from his memory. He hugged his wife tightly when he walked into their apartment and felt his unborn son stir between them.

Back at the Ellison Hotel, the tenant in 302 woke and rang the front desk. Father and son looked at each other.

It was time to eat.

Posted by Wil at 1:39 PM | Permalink | Comments (77) | TrackBacks (6)

Nolan just called me from school to tell me that he got an 88 on a history test that he was really nervous about even passing.

He was walking down the hallway from one class to the next, and I could hear the sound of his peers swarming around him, in that dull almost-roar that fills high schools between classes before the campus drops back into near silence for 48 minutes.

I told him how proud of him I was, and how happy I was that he took the time to call me and tell me about it.

"I called mom, too," he said, "but now I have to go into class so I gotta go."

"Okay," I said. "I'm really proud of you, Nolan. Have a great weekend at your dad's. I love you."

"I love you too, Wil." He said. "Bye."

I love it that my 14 year-old told cared enough to call me and share good news about his grades, and told me that he loves me, even though he was surrounded by his peers.

Posted by Wil at 11:20 AM | Permalink | Comments (52)

And now, a chance to use "blog this page" in performancing:

It's a little weird for me to make the news that I'm editing, but
when you're as up to your +3 Helmet of Monty Python Quoting in geek as
I am, sooner or later, it was bound to happen. Thank you for your
indulgence. Your case of Bawls is in the mail.

SuicideGirls  News  Geek  Your Humble Geek Editor Talks to the Global Gaming League

Technorati Tags: geek, gamer

Posted by Wil at 10:15 AM | Permalink | Comments (11)

Last night I watched an amazing episode of TNG called Family.

It is a truly wonderful episode that focuses on the human element of Star Trek. It is very dark and very heavy. It deals with the consequences of some very serious events from earlier in the series: Picard's assimilation by the Borg and subsequent stint as Locutus, Worf facing his parents for the first time since his discommendation in Sins of the Father, and Wesley's first face-to-face meeting with his father, Jack Crusher, via a holographic message which Jack made for him when Wesley was born.

It is a fantastic opportunity for the Patrick, Michael and me to take a brilliant script, filled with wonderful dialogue and complex relationships, and show the world what we can do as actors.

Partick and Michael are brilliant. They make the very most of every single scene, especially when Michael deals with the conflict between Worf's need to suffer for his discommendation with his obvious love for his parents, and when Patrick finally lets Picard's fall completely apart as he acknowledges how helpless he felt at Wolf-359 and deals with its aftermath. It is a Ron Moore script that previews the depth and pathos that I have come to love on Battlestar Galactica, and they are absolutely outstanding in it.

And me? Ron gave me a chance to really shine, to explore some complex emotion and take Wesley beyond the two-dimensional caricature I often complained he'd become. I finally had a chance to explore and perform a human side of Wesley as he sees the face of his father and hears his voice for the first time in his life. I finally had a chance to really do something after years of saying "Aye, sir, warp six, sir" . . . and I fucking phoned it in. I sat there and I made all my stupid little faces and acted like I cared, but It's painfully clear that I was halfway out the door. I totally and completely blew it. I was ashamed as I watched my eighteen year-old self last night, and rather disgusted by the time my scenes were over.

I looked extremely tanned, so the episode was probably shot in summer, and I'm sure I would have rather been at the beach with my friends instead of wearing a spacesuit on stage nine, but it's no excuse. I was expected to be professional and do my job, and instead I was a bullshit hack who didn't show up for work. I suppose the director could have knocked me into shape, but who knows what was going on at the time for him? And who knows if I would have even listened to him? After all, I was eighteen and I knew everything. I had the whole world figured out.

There were so many opportunities in that scene: opportunities to look at him and try to see myself in his eyes or hear myself in his voice; opportunities to make a rare emotional connection with a scene that didn't involve a lot of techno babble and opportunities to just be simple and honest and truthful. As an actor, I should have thought about all the things we never got to do together, I should have done everything I could to stretch the moment out as long as possible, so the audience is left thinking that Wesley is going to sit in that holodeck and sob and miss his dad and watch that thing over and over for the next several hours. At the very least, I certainly should have allowed myself to feel the resulting sense of loss, but as a fucking douchebag teenager I didn't feel anything. I'm pretty sure I walked into stage nine completely full of myself, and didn't stop checking my watch until I was done with the scene.

Jesus, what a pathetic waste. What a complete and total fucking waste. On that day, I didn't deserve to wear that uniform, and I certainly didn't earn the right to call myself an actor.

It is such a great episode, and I'm so ashamed and disappointed that I didn't realize it at the time. 

Ron, if you happen to read this: I am so sorry. When I saw you at Grand Slam, I thanked you for all the gifts you gave me over the years; I'd forgotten about this one (probably because I didn't appreciate it at the time, in all my teenage arrogance and I am so sorry that I disrespected your work and didn't honor the gift you gave me. Your work deserved better, and I was too much of an idiot to live up to the material. I can't imagine what it must have been like to create something so wonderful, only to watch it destroyed by an arrogant and entitled teenager. I am so, so sorry.

I have learned much since I was eighteen. In fact, I became aware of what a douche I was about a year after I filmed this episode, and realized that I need to get the hell out of Hollywood and find out who I really was and who I wanted to be. I spent the next three years working all that shit out, looking at myself in the mirror every day until I could truly say that I liked the person I saw reflected back.

These days, I don't take anything for granted, and I always do my very best to rise to the challenge of the material I'm lucky enough to be given. I wouldn't change anything about my life, because the person I am today grew out of the person I once was . . . but I'd sure like a chance to take that wonderful material and do it justice.

Hopefully, I'll get to watch an episode tonight that I can feel proud of.

(image from Memory Apha)

Afterthought - I put a version of this in comments, but here it is for the rest of all y'all (or is it all y'alls? all of y'alls?): It is important to me to examine and reflect on my life, whether it's something I'm fiercely proud of, like my performance in Best of Both Worlds I & II, or something I'm not proud of, like the things I've written about here.

When Family was over last night, I had a visceral feeling of shame and regret as strong as the feeling of terror I had writing about my first day of high school yesterday. It's lived in me all day, so I finally decided to write about it tonight.

I don't intend for this to become some sort of big pity party for me or anything, and by writing this, I don't feel that I'm sitting in a funk, dwelling on the past, wasting he present (I've done lots of that in the last few years, and I think I've hung on that cross enough, thank you.)

I absolutely love who I am today, both as a creative writer/actor and as a person. When everything is stripped away and I am left with nothing but my naked soul, I am very comfortable with what I have. I wouldn't have that if I didn't reflect on all the peaks and valleys of my life, including moments like these.

Now that I think of it, if I didn't have such respect for Ron Moore, and if I hadn't just seen him two weeks ago, I may not have had such a profoundly powerful reaction to my performance (or lack thereof) in his episode.

Anyway, if I didn't tear down the wall from time to time, I'd just sit here and wait for the worms to come, and nobody wants that. Trust me.

Posted by Wil at 8:52 PM | Permalink | Comments (91)

This is the second time in about forty minutes that I've wanted to change the title of an entry. First: "when i'm boss of the universe . . ." should be called "new slang", or "gold teeth and a curse" if I wanted to be slightly more obscure and rewarding to anyone who figured it out.

"i call the big one bitey" is a nice homage to a long ago time when The Simpsons was still consistently funny, but "antmusic" would be cooler. "dirk wears white socks"  would be even better, but "kings of the final frontier" would probably be the most obscure and rewarding (the ant habitat was originally designed by NASA, and I'll let you figure the rest out on your own.)

Now this is a little weird: iTunes must know that I'm writing about music, because for the last seven songs, it has taken me on a little time warp to my teens. These songs are listed in the exact order that they came up. It was set to shuffle through my entire library (currently organized by album title), which is pretty eclectic, so the choice of tunes is particularly eerie.

Songs with their associated memories:

Cinderella Undercover - I am driving my brand new 1989 Honda Prelude Si 4WS to work on Star Trek. I don't know why, but in all of my memories, it's early morning, it's cold, and it's a little foggy. I loved that car, and it's the same one that was just slightly better than Patrick Stewart's, if you've heard that story.

Don't Be Square, Be There - My friend Guy (who was also my stand-in on TNG) introduced me to Adam and the Ants via the Kings of the Wild Frontier album. I can still see the tape, an old TDK number with "Adam and the Ants" on one side and "Kings of the Wild Frontier" on the other, written in Guy's realy cool architect writing, in a smoky grey case with no paper insert. Guy lived in Costa Mesa, and after I got my Mac II -- in color, with four fraking megabyes of RAM, man! -- I'd put it in my car and drive down to Guy's on the weekend so we could appletalk our machines together and play NetTrek and Spaceward Ho! People often asked me in interviews how I avoided the drugs and partying scene that claimed the lives and futures of so many of my peers; I've just realized that this is a major reason why: when they were getting high and courting the paparazzi in night clubs they were too young to be in, I was sitting in Guy's house playing really geeky games.

Still Ill - When I was in my very early teens, I had one of those massive teenage crushes that consumes your every waking moment and requires you to listen to endless hours of The Smiths in your bedroom wondering why she doesn't like you "in that way." This particular crush was on Kyra, who was so beautiful, and so smart, and so cool, and so a senior when I was a freshman it was never going to happen. Kyra introduced me to The Smiths (on Vinyl, no less), the Violent Femmes (in her BMW 2002 while we were driving to see Harvey at a local college) and was goth before goth was goth. Though I had such a massive crush on her, we were great friends, and she never broke my heart.

Pale Shelter - I heard this on the radio in my mom's car on my way to my first day of public high school at Crescenta Valley High School, and it will always remind me of that day. I was terrified. I remember sitting into first period history class, and not even knowing that I was supposed to write "per. 1" on my papers. I remember that it was nothing like I'd seen in movies and on TV, and how the kids in all my classes were so cruel to me. I was shy, I was scared to death, and I was so withdrawn as a result, they all decided that I was aloof and arrogant and I never got a chance to correct that first impression. Wow - as I write this, I can feel that terror all over again. I feel it in my muscle memory and in my soul. Gods, I felt so tiny as I walked across the quad on that first day, like a little kid who lost his mom in the department store. The time I spent at CV was the absolute worst in my life.

How Beautiful You Are - Kiss Me, Kiss Me, Kiss Me was the first compact disc I had, and it's a good thing, too. I love this record so much, I would have worn it out in any other medium. This was also during the "W + K 4EVR" phase, and, nerdly little artist that I was, whenever I heard this song I longed to go with her to Paris and dance in the rain together. You know what I just realized? I don't think I ever told her that I was so fiercely head over heels for her, and she either knew and didn't call me out, or I had the perfect combination of infatuation and insecurity to keep it to myself. I wonder where she is today, and how she's doing? Hrm.

Charge of the Batmobile - My best friend, Darin, lived just over one mile from my house, across windy streets up in the hills above La Crescenta. We were such Batman geeks and we were such stupid teens, we frequently put this song on my tape deck and drove way too fast across those windy streets late at night between our two houses. It's a miracle we never crashed or hurt anyone or anything.

Phonetic Alphabet - NATO - This is from disc 2 of The Conet Project. I never heard a numbers station in my teens, but I spent a lot of time listening to my shortwave radio and my police scanner (I told you I was a geek) so it reminds me of sitting in the dark (because shortwave listening is so much better when you're in the dark, for some reason) late at night when propagation was better, spinning the dial and thinking it was the coolest thing in the world to hear transmissions from the other side of the planet. I'm glad the Cold War is over, but boy do I miss the SW propaganda broadcasts.

And the Conet Project is the perfect coda to this trip in the wayback machine. That invisible woman's voice, sending a message to some unknown person in an unknown land, shot into the ionosphere and back, captured by someone else in another time is almost too perfect. If I saw it in a movie, I'd never believe it. Good thing this isn't a movie.

"romeo, romeo, lima, yankee, november, oscar, oscar, zulu . . . end of message end of t--"

Posted by Wil at 11:12 AM | Permalink | Comments (41)

Two words I'd like to remove from the Universe:

deets - The word is "Details," not "deets." "deet" is an important ingredient in insect repellent.

peeped - Did you look at it? Then you saw it. You did not "peep" it. And your friends? They are your friends. They are not your "peeps." Your "peeps" are tasty little marshmallow chunks, shaped like birds and covered with enough sugar to give you type 2 diabetes after one box. They are especially tasty if you let them reach the perfect point of almost-too-stale before eating them.

Thank you.

Posted by Wil at 4:57 PM | Permalink | Comments (64) | TrackBacks (1)

For the last several months, I've been editing the technology newswire at Suicide Girls. It's been a lot of fun to interact with the community over there, and I've had a really good time digging up hawesome, amusing, and informative tech stories for them.

In the last month or so, the overlords are making some changes to the site, including the newswire, to make more than just a pin-up site. To that end, they've recently added a ton of new writers and editors, and changed our sections around quie a bit.

Last night, my section was changed from technology to geek, and I went from being the technology editor to being the geek editor, complete with shiny new title. I just about shot a d10 out my nose when I saw the change! Bow before me, for I am geek! Snort. Snort. 3d8 + 4

According to the announcement, "Geek is about video games, comics, role playing games, computer hacking, Linux, OS X, mocking Windows Vista, etc," so I'm pretty psyched to add comics and games to the list of news I can write and edit, now. I'm especially happy that any ambiguity about the deductibility of certain research materials has been effectively removed, as well.

I think it's time for a trip to the Last Grenadier, then to the comic shop. For, uh, research. Yeah.

Snort. Snort.

42.

Update: In comments, Elayne says, "I don't get it. Why are you writing for a pinup site in the first place? I think it's pretty unwelcoming for female readers to begin with."

It's a valid question, and one which I imagine crossed more than a few minds. I know lots of you (about 16000 at last count) read this via RSS and may miss comments, so here's my response:

I don't have any problems with writing for SG, because I don't find their content offensive in any way. I really like the people I work with, I like drawing a small paycheck to write and edit, and the little chunk of community I've interacted with there (mostly geeks like me) have made me feel very welcome.

I completely respect that not everyone thinks SG is okay, though, and if you're personally offended that I write for or am associated with the site, I completely understand and support your decision to not read my stories there, or even stop reading my blog entirely, if you feel that strongly about it.

Personally, I feel like it's a Venn diagram of Playboy, Vanity Fair, Cosmo, and a flurry of tattoo and goth culture magazines, and I don't find the content exploitive or pornographic in any way. But your milage may vary, and whatever that milage may be, I respect it.

Oh, and at my suggestion, the newswire has been made entirely safe for work, so you can read the news (like my story today about Facebook turning down 750 million while reportedly holding out for two BILLION dollars, which features a bonus Back to the Future reference, and some musings on how stupid online advertisers are) and interviews without encountering teh boobies. You're welcome (I think.)

One more, after a few more comments:

There is an entire page at Suicide Girls dedicated to addressing all the various rumors and allegations: http://suicidegirls.com/trash/

There are also numerous testimonials from several of the models, who all seem pretty happy with the site: http://suicidegirls.com/trash/testimonials/

I've noticed that most people tend to project their personal biases and and preconceptions into the site: if a person is opposed to nude modeling (for whatever reason) they tend to think the site is exploiting women, and are prone to uncritically believing the various charges made against the site and its owners. If people are cool with the nude modeling (male or female), they tend to discard the rumors, and if they have an opinion at all on the "exploitation" issue, tend to conclude that it's more empowering than, say, modeling for Suze Randall.

As I said before, since I am an editor on the newswire, those issues don't affect or concern me. The models I know all seem very happy with their work and enjoy being part of the site; the people I have worked with on staff have been fantastic, honorable, and respectable people (unlike the people I worked for at G4, for example.)

And I made with a whole bunch of the funny (to me at least) in this story about finding out where your Xbox was born.

No thank you, I! Thank! You!

Posted by Wil at 9:00 AM | Permalink | Comments (43)

On June 4th, Wil and I and our friends Shawn and Michelle will be running in the Rock-n-Roll Marathon in San Diego as a fundraiser for the Leukemia and Lymphoma Foundation. This will be the second time we have participated in this marathon. The first time we did it was in 2004, because our friend Kris was diagnosed with leukemia and we wanted to do something to help funding for finding a cure. If you didn't read about this when we did it the first time, here's a brief summary of what happened.  

In August of 2003, our friend Kris was diagnosed with acute myelogenous leukemia. A month later she started chemotherapy at her local hospital. Treatment was unsuccessful, so she was admitted to City Of Hope Hospital in Duarte, California to begin an aggressive treatment of radiation and chemotherapy. The cancer was taking over quickly so her only hope was to harvest her own stem cells and transplant them back to her after treatment. This was a very grueling time for Kris as well as her family and friends as we all felt so helpless to do anything. I wasn't Kris' blood type so I couldn't donate to her. I tried donating platelets three times, but my body decided it didn't want to let me. Then I heard about the Rock-n-Roll marathon in San Diego for the Leukemia and Lymphoma Society and knew that was the way to help. A nurse at the hospital told me it costs $25,000 a day for cancer research so I decided that would be our fund-raising goal. I wrote about Kris' progress on Wil's site and our own training progress for the marathon. So many people wrote such wonderful words of support and had stories of their own with loved ones battling cancer and making it through, I printed out all these comments and brought them to Kris in the hospital to read. It was very inspirational for her and a great distraction while she spent all those weeks in bed. Kris said her treatment was the hardest thing she had ever done and would never do it again. When it came time to do the marathon, we were so excited because not only did WWdN readers raise $28,420, but Kris was waiting for us at the finish line.

Over the past two years, Wil has mentioned to me on several occasions that people wanted to know how Kris was doing, and if I'd make a post for his blog about her. Today, I can finally tell you. The first year was great. Kris' bone marrow biopsy came back clean and her health continued to improve. She got her hair back and was able to go on vacation.

In October of last year, Kris went in for a check up. She had been feeling a little tired, but didn't think anything of it. A biopsy revealed that her leukemia was back. Fortunately, doctors had been searching for a stem-cell donor since Kris first started her treatment in 2003, so they had a match for her. With the progression of the cancer, she needed to start treatment immediately. She went home for a week, and tried to decide if she wanted to go through the treatment again. She finally decided to do it so she could see her son graduate from high school, and Kris spent all of the holidays as well as her birthday in the hospital. I would visit her as often as I could, even if it was just to bring her some lip balm or a crossword puzzle. We would watch TV together and talk about her son's college plans. Some days were so bad for her I would only be able to write a message on the dry erase board in her room letting her know I had been there. It was so hard to see her like that; I was so worried she wouldn't make it. She had the maximum amount of radiation with her first transplant, so this time was all chemotherapy which made her really sick. She was worried her transplant wouldn't work (and so were we) but it did. She fought like crazy, didn't give up, and came home shortly after her birthday at the beginning of January.

In late January, Kris wasn't feeling well again. A high fever put her back in the hospital with an infection in her Hickman catheter and bacterial pneumonia. This time, Kris spent 45 more days in the hospital. It was really scary but she's been home for a couple of weeks now. Last week she got her biopsy results: All clear!

During Kris' second round of treatment, we were thinking about how she said she would never go through it again. At the end of the marathon in 2004, we said we would never do it again because it was the hardest thing we had ever done. To see Kris' strength as she goes through all this is amazing. So we decided if she could do it twice, so could we. And this time, we are going to try to get twice as much in donations!

We were overjoyed by the kind words of support for Kris and for all the donations that came in from all over the world. Every single dollar makes a difference, and every single comment and e-mail helped lift Kris' spirits. Her doctors told us in 2004 that she was a fighter; she told us on several occasions that she was fighting so hard because she didn't want to let down all the people who were pulling for her. It was incredible to see how many people were willing to be a part of something so great. We have a donation page set up through the Leukemia and Lymphoma Society. We only have a couple of months to reach our donation goal. Please help us reach it as we prepare for the marathon in San Diego on June 4th.

I'll drop in here from time to time with more Comments from the Wife, to update you all on fundraising and our training progress (We're way behind. Someone tell my husband to step away from the computer and exercise more!) Wil is going to have some in-person fundraisers in Los Angeles, and at least one charity poker tournament at PokerStars, so watch for that, too.

Thank you so much!!

-Anne

Note from Wil: The original "Comments from the Wife" posts are: 3.0, 3.1, 3.2, 3.3, 3.4, 3.5, 3.6, 4.0. (Yeah, we just went for an entirely new version after 3.7, because we, uh, found a new version of the working-it-out software in the CVS and decided to, uh, recompile the . . . uhm . . . unit. Yeah.)

Posted by Wil at 3:11 PM | Permalink | Comments (34)

From the time I was old enough to recognize that music is important, I've gone through these phases where a certain band will jam a guitar into the base of my skull and twist around there until I listen to them enough to fill my brains with their music and push the guitar (which is usually a Les Paul, and occasionally a Fender Stratocaster) out.

If you've read my blog for any length of time, you can see when this happens, because it's usually revealed in the titles of my entries. There have been Radiohead and Pixies and Get Up Kids and Mike Doughty explosions, but the one band I've come back to over and over again since I was in high school is Pink Floyd.

It was Pink Floyd who introduced me to the concept album, and showed me that music could be something more than background noise. I'll never forget the first time I heard Animals: I was working on a show called Monsters, which was a cool little Tales From the Darkside-ish anthology show. My episode was really cool: it was called Shave and a Haircut, Two Bites, and was about two barbers who do all sorts of unspeakably horrible things to feed a creepy blood-sucking Lovecraftian monster. We filmed the whole thing in a tiny little warehouse-ish building down near the center of Hollywood (I think it was off Santa Monica, between Highland and Gower, but I'm not sure) over the course of about a week in 1990.

I played opposite Matt LeBlanc in that show. To illustrate how weird Hollywood is: Matt was new to town and the entertainment industry, and though he was older than me, I was the veteran actor. I was also a Really Big Deal at the time (though the slow-but-sure slide down to the C list had already begun) and it's this moment in time where you can see the graphs of our careers cross: he was rising and I was falling. Weird, isn't it?

Matt was a relly nice guy, and a lot of fun to work with. He's also singularly responsible for introducing me to The Simpsons. I remember sitting in his dressing room between setups one day, talking about TV shows, and he asked me if I'd seen it. I told him that I'd watched one or two episodes, and I wasn't particularly impressed (if you look at season one of The Simpsons, I think you'll agree that it was a very acquired taste back then.)

He was surprised, because we'd been talking about Monty Python and Life in Hell, and other types of off-beat humor, and he was convinced that I'd like the show. To prove this to me, he recreated the entire episode where Bart is sent to France and ends up slaving away in the vineyard.

I couldn't tell you a single thing about working on that episode (other than being afraid I was going to cut myself with a straight razor) but I can still close my eyes and hear Matt saying, "Don't eat ze grapes, Bart!" I thought it was so hilarious, I gave The Simpsons a chance, and was hooked pretty quickly after that.

But this post was originally about Pink Floyd, right? I was already into Pink Floyd a little bit by this time, and a casual fan of The Dark Side of the Moon, and Wish You Were Here. I don't remember how I ended up with Animals, but I had the CD and a portable CD player (kids: way back in 1990, before the advent of MP3 players, your parents carried around CD players which were very portable at around five pounds each. We also carried around ten or twenty CDs at a time, in a wallet sort of thing. And we listened to our CDs while we walked uphill both ways in the snow to get to school because we liked it.)

At this point in the story, I feel compelled to point out that, even though I love Pink Floyd and The Grateful Dead, I'm not a stoner, and never have been. Stoners bug the everlivingfuck out of me, and nothing makes me leave a party or event faster than a bunch of pot heads. I also feel compelled to point out that the so-called War on Drugs is an abject and total failure (much like the Bush adminstration) and I fully support changing a lot of our drug laws here, especially de-criminalizing marijuana, mmmkay?  And I now feel further compelled to point out that I'm not casting judgement on stoners. I know plenty of stoners who I genuinely like a whole bunch; I just don't come out to play when they're sparking up.

Anyway, I had Animals on CD, and though I was initially turned off by Pigs on the Wing (part one), Dogs grabbed my attention, and by the time Pigs (three different ones) started, I was completely hooked. (After a few listens, I grew to love Pigs on the Wing (I & II) and even taught myself how to play it on the guitar. I can't imagine Animals without those beautiful and tender songs wrapping up the rest of the album.)

I clearly recall leaning back in this shitty chair with wobbly legs, my feet up on a standard-issue office furniture desk, eyes closed, and nearly falling over when Roger Waters sang,

Big man, pig man, ha ha, charade you are
You well heeled big wheel, ha ha, charade you are

I crossed a Rubicon. I don't know what it was about those lyrics (they're not even the lyrics that resonate strongest with me from that album, let alone the entire Floyd catalogue) but the music,  the way he sang "ha ha, charade you are!" and the deep, dark, rich ominous weight of the whole thing spoke to me in exactly the right way. I guess it's kind of sad that, at 19, I was already deeply cynical and responsive to that, huh? After work that day, I went to the record store (kids: it's sort of like iTunes Music Store, but you walk into it and talk to people about what you want to buy, and occasionally disscover new and interesting music while you're there) and bought every Pink Floyd album they had. I entered an extended Pink Floyd phase, where I spent hours just listening to and exploring the music. We didn't have Wikipedia back then, so I went on several record store quests to find old magazines and books about the band, so I could get a better idea where their music came from and what they were all about.

Last night, listened to Animals and Wish You Were Here while I chased album notes and band history down the Internets' rabbit hole (start here if you're intrigued) including a re-examination of The Publius Enigma.

I wish a band would come out and be the modern equivalent to Pink Floyd. Green Day kind of did it with American Idiot, but that's a hell of a stretch, I think. I want to hear concept albums that tell me a story from start to finish, that aren't single-oriented.

Heh. I guess I'm saying that I'm still waiting for Radiohead to follow-up OK Computer. It's a long way to go, isn't it?

Oh, and I made this post in Performancing. (Then I did a little tweaking by hand, to add the image and clean up the tags.) Cool.

Technorati Tags: wheaton, pink floyd

Posted by Wil at 11:11 AM | Permalink | Comments (84)

I saw Menage A Trois last night on TNG, which is the episode where Picard gives Wesley his field promotion to Ensign, complete with cool regular spacesuit and slightly-less-dorky haircut. I'd forgotten the promotion happened in that episode, because, despite fantastic performances from all the actors (especially Majel) the bulk of that story just feels a little too close to slashy fan fiction for me. In my mind, I'd uncoupled the B story about Wesley from the A story about Riker, Troi, Lwaxana, and the Ferengis.

There's a scene in that episode where Wesley thinks he's leaving the Enterprise to go to Starfleet Academy, and as he walks across the back of the bridge, behind Worf and to the turbolift, he turns around and slowly looks at the bridge, you know, sort of taking the whole thing in like he's seeing it for the last time and wants to remember.

When I saw that last night, it reminded me of the first time I went on Star Trek: The Experience in Las Vegas, and how I did exactly the same thing. Art imitating life imitating art.

Most of you who are TNG fans already know this, but it's a cool story that I'll tell anyway: Gene Roddenberry, who created Star Trek and was a good friend of mine while I worked on the show, was field-promoted to Ensign during World War II, and when Wesley was field-promoted on TNG, Gene came to the bridge one afternoon, gathered the cast and crew together, kicked out the set photographer, and shut down production for a few minutes to present me with the bars he'd received when he was promoted in the real military.

I can connect with that memory right now as if I'm watching it on a television all over again: Gene presents me with his bars, everyone breaks out into applause, and I feel like I really didn't deserve it -- I was just an actor, after all.

I was too young and immature to fully absorb the magnitude of the gesture, but I recall that Gene shook my hand, then pulled me into him for a big hug, and I felt that sense of pride and embarassment that you get when your dad brags on you in front of everyone at the family reunion for making the final out that won the All-City Championship, but you secretly know that you just held up your glove and the ball managed to find its way into the pocket.

I remember that Paramount wanted to make a big publicity deal out of it, and have a camera crew from Entertainment Tonight and a bunch of photographers there, but Gene wanted it to be a private, "family" moment. I always thought that was cool of him, and illustrates how seriously he took that moment; though I wish I had pictures from that day, if there'd been a photographer or film crew there, it would have cheapened the moment. I think Gene knew that and kept it real long before "keeping it real" was a popular pastime on MySpace.

Posted by Wil at 9:36 AM | Permalink | Comments (55)

Trent: Yeah, man just kinda... you know, you got these claws and you're staring at these claws and your thinking to yourself, and with these claws you're thinking, "How am I supposed to kill this bunny, how am I supposed to kill this bunny?"
Sue: And you're poking at it, you're poking at it...
Trent: Yeah, you're not hurting it. You're just kinda gently batting the bunny around, you know what I mean? And the bunny's scared Mike, the bunny's scared of you, shivering.
        -Swingers

I should really be freaking out now that three days have passed (eight, if you count exactly on the calendar and include the weekend -- which I don't, but I didn't want any of you weekend-counters to feel left out) and I still haven't heard anything about the super teriffic Sci-Fi hosting gig that isn't on the Sci-Fi Channel.

But I'm a level 27 Bard, with a billion ranks in Sense Motive (plus Epic Skill Focus) and Regie's Ruby Ring of Really Reliable Scrying. In other words, I usually know when I've gotten or lost a gig with laser-like precision. I can feel it in my soul when a decision has been made, even if that decision is made on the other side of the world. I know that's totally ooga-booga, but it's true. I've been making sense motive checks all day long, and they're either hiding behind a wall of lead and Kryptonite, or they haven't made a decision, yet.

Oh! They just made a decision and -- oh, wait. That's just gas. My bad.

I will admit to leaping up and racing to the phone whenever it rings, and saying, "aw, nuts," when the caller ID doesn't tell me that it's my manager giving me a ring up on the dictaphone, but other than that, and the constant rolling of the d20, I haven't really been obsessing about it that much.

Anyway, I talked with Shane about it at length today, because he's been involved in programming like this from both sides of the table. I didn't tell him about the R³R²S, but we still came to the conclusion that it's still too early to panic. The most likely option right now is that a decision simply hasn't been made. Does that mean they're looking at other guys? Probably. Does that mean I should freak out? I don't think so. All I can do is give my best audition, which I did, and hope that the other things I bring to the table outweigh however good looking the other guys are. I'm also pretty sure I'll have to dodge a Kimmel on the Turn and River.

I think I'll make a call tomorrow, so I at least know if I'm buying a case of Guinness to celebrate or drown my sorrows. Hey, either way, I get to drink a ton of Guinness.

To make the continued waiting as cute as possible, please enjoy this kitten:

(Thanks, W!)

Posted by Wil at 5:13 PM | Permalink | Comments (53)

"May the road rise with you."
    -PiL

All this week, Shane Nickerson is publishing older blog entries that never made the cut for one reason or another. He introduces each entry with a brief comment about it, then shares some wonderful writing that clearly deserved to make it past the internal censor who often paralyzes writers actors actors/writers guys like us.

This one, in particular, hit me where I live:

If you want the secret, I have it.

It's about the work. Regardless of your chosen profession or station in life, the work is what matters. Skip it and you will be caught. Slack off, and others will catch up to you. Cut corners and you will have to answer to yourself at some point.

Of course, that said, the hardest question to answer once it is assumed that hard work is part of the equation is, "Now, what do I work on?" Whatever you love. Work on whatever you love and don't think about the payoff, but instead the road. If part of your road is a continual hunt for a payoff, so be it, but pick a life and career that makes you happy even in the very pursuit of the thing you've chosen.

A couple of days ago, I had an epiphany: Around the time I came to Exile, I drove right off my Road. I started to take an interesting little side trip, (mostly to Prove To Everyone that I could do it) but I lost my map and couldn't find my way back. I was so thoroughly off my road, I didn't even realize I was driving around in circles and down dead end paths until it was way too late, and I was running out of gas.

Set phasers to Ramble, Mr. Worf:

When I went to the Grand Slam convention last weekend, I kept expecting to feel bad about it. I kept expecting to feel like I was a loser for going without anything new to show off and I really worked myself up about it. I really felt like I was in exactly the same place I was five years ago, and that seriously bummed me out.

But when I got there, that anticipated feeling never arrived. Despite my best initial efforts to really feel like a jerk, I really had a good time. I didn't feel bad; I felt like I was at home. I felt like I was surrounded by like-minded people who all wanted to celebrate this stuff that we all love, and I felt like I had something unique and interesting to share with them. I loved how good and how right that felt, and at some point over the weekend, I realized that even though I was hanging out at a con, I'm not in the same place I was five years ago. I've grown as a writer, I've grown as a husband, and I've grown as a father. I'm smarter and wiser than I was five years ago, even if I haven't accomplished as much as I'd hoped. There is no denying that I haven't done what I'd hoped to do with acting or writing, but in all the other areas that truly matter, I've rolled several critical successes.

You know how everything happens for a reason? If I hadn't gone to that convention and simply enjoyed the celebration of Sci-Fi and Sci-Fi fandom, if I hadn't realized, accepted, and acknowledged that I really have grown and succeeded in the last five years, I wouldn't have found the map back to my Road. Without it, I never would have been in the right place to have so much fun with the hosting audition, and I wouldn't be waiting right now to hopefully hear good news about that job.

I thought about the last line of Just A Geek the other day, which I thought went something like, "I'm finally cool with all the Star Trek and Sci-Fi stuff, and I'm happy about that."

I just looked it up, and that's not what it says. It actually says that I'm doing something that really makes me happy, which at the time was writing. It says a lot about my current state of mind, (and the unvarnished truth about myself at this moment) that I thought it said I was happy about my work on Star Trek and I was cool with all that stuff, though, doesn't it?

When I watch TNG on G4, (and I do, almost every night,) no matter how hard I try to feel sad, or maudlin, or regretful, I just can't do it. I see my friends, and I have fond memories of working with them. I see my work, and I feel proud (when I'm not laughing at the Ugly Grey Spacesuit) of a lot of the things I did with what I was given to work with. As a bonus, watching lots of TNG has brought back happy, lucid memories of of all sosrts of things I did when I was a teenager: I get flashes of painting 40K armies in my dressing room, going to Depeche Mode concerts with my friends, watching movies like The Hidden and Alien Nation and Prince of Darkness at the AMC in Burbank with Darin when it was just 10 theatres (and 10 was HUGE back then), and going to different conventions all over the country to celebrate Star Trek. Of course, as I described in Just A Geek, there came a time where I didn't have fun at the cons, and I started to resent them, but even those memories are hard to pull up as I watch these shows from the second and third seasons. Is it selective memory? Of course it is, and I'm totally fine with that.

I know I went over this in Just A Geek and Dancing Barefoot, but it's worth it for me to go over it one more time: I don't have to avoid or run away from science fiction because I was a big part of a huge science fiction franchise, and I didn't have the acting success I'd hoped for when I quit. I was a science fiction geek long before I was Wesley Crusher, and I'll be a science fiction geek for the rest of my life. I can't run away from fandom, because I can't run away from myself. I can't run away from who I am. Resistance is futile.

When I read Shane's post earlier this week, I initially responded to what he said about the work. But as I reflected on it, I kept thinking about the Road. When I knew what my Road was, I knew where my Road was, and I knew how to get back on it. I wasn't as far off it as I thought, in fact. I just had to turn the wheel and step on the gas. It also helped to drive with my eyes open for a change.

My Road is paved with d20s and TRON DVDs and Atari 2600 games. It's lit by the glow of TNG and BSG episodes and the soundtrack is by Vangelis. It's patrolled by Rover and they sell Soylent Green in the rest stop vending machines. The speed limit is 42, but if you flash your Bavarian Illuminati card, you can use the FTL drive to make it to Milliways in time for dinner.

I'm back on my Road, and nobody can take the sky from me.

Posted by Wil at 10:44 AM | Permalink | Comments (65) | TrackBacks (2)

As day two of the Big Wait draws to a close, I still haven't heard anything. After a lifetime in this industry, I have learned that the chances of booking a job drop logarithmically with each day that passes, and I'm less optimistic than I was yesterday. The glass still appears half-full, but there is now a chance that it could be filled with deadly poison.

To put the waiting into perspective, please enjoy this picture of Mustard Man:

Posted by Wil at 5:12 PM | Permalink | Comments (37)

Well, Monday is pretty much over, and I haven't heard anything yet about the possible hosting gig.

This waiting to hear thing? Yeah, it's never any different than this. I could either obsess that the lack of new information means they've gone with another Kimmel cousin, or the lack of new information means that nothing has changed since last week. It's a very Schrödinger's Cat situation, and I'm happy to leave the job in a superposition until I get a chance to observe the results.

To help pass the time until I hear something, here's a picture of a squirrel with huge nuts:

Posted by Wil at 6:02 PM | Permalink | Comments (53)

This comes from the Headlines-I-Never-Thought-I'd-Write department.

Last week, a reporter from the Augusta Chronicle in Augusta, Georgia contacted me and asked if I was performing at the James Brown Soul of America Music Festival on Memorial Day down in Georgia.

For years, I've been confused with Will Wheaton, Jr., the well-known soul singer, so I told the reporter that he was probably confusing the two of us (it happens all the time, especially when James Brown or Russian stacking dolls are brought up, for some strange reason.) The reporter told me that the festival made it clear that it was Wil Wheaton, the actor, which is weird because until the reporter's inquiry, I hadn't heard about the festival at all. In fact,I was surprised to hear that I'd been mentioned in association with this event, because I am solidly B or even C List right now, and not exactly the kind of person who would be a big draw at the James Brown Soul of America Music Festival on Memorial Day down in Georgia like, say, Will Wheaton, Jr., the well-known soul singer.[1]

I forgot about it until today, when Google News sent me one of those "Hey, Wil, you wanted to know when you were in the news, so now you know, and knowing is half the battle," alerts.

The entire story requires outrageously annoying and intrusive registraton, but here's the part that mentions me:

Also, actor Wil Wheaton, of Star Trek fame, said he had no plans to come to Augusta. He seemed amused when he responded to inquiries last week.

"I respect and admire the godfather of soul as much as anyone else, and though I've been known to get on up like a sex machine from time to time, I will be paying tribute in my own not-coming-to-Georgia way."

The whole story left me with the impression that there are a lot of questions about the event, and it all seems kind of shady, so now I'm actually happy that I may have been mentioned in conjunction with the event, because it could be sort of edgy, now.

[1]Note that it's common for event organizers to invite a ton of guests to an event, knowing that not all of them will show up, and advertise those guests as "invited" or "scheduled to appear." This often happens because organizers have ambitions that aren't practical, and you should never attribute to malice that which can be attributed to something more benign, like an overly-ambitious promoter. I don't know what the case is, here, but what's important is that I have an italicized footnote to this entry.

Posted by Wil at 5:07 PM | Permalink | Comments (35)

I'm working on WWdN today (about to stop and walk my dogs; the rain has broken, and it's quite beautiful outside right now) and I thought I'd share a couple of links for any readers who found me in Exile, rather than following me over from WWdN.

The first is something I wrote a long, long time ago, when WWdN first started. I knew people would be coming to my site with lots of preconceptions, and I wanted to take a shot at challenging them. I also had a tragic-but-true story which started this whole blogging thing for me, and is one of the first narrative non-fiction things I ever wrote:

If this is your first time here, you should read this.

The second is a couple of links to a reading I did from Just a Geek and Dancing Barefoot at Gnomedex a couple of years ago. It's not the best performance of all time, and I tossed in a couple of ad-libs that in retrospect don't work (see if you can spot them!) but

You can now see or hear me read from my books Just A Geek and Dancing Barefoot! If you like what you hear, you may want to pick up a copy of Just A Geek: Teh Audiobook. Or not. Whatever. I'm not the boss of you.

Oh! And even though I'm putting my photos into flickr these days, I have an extensive gallery that's filled with really great stuff, including a HAWESOME series from a road trip Anne and I took a few years ago. Man, I really love WWdN. Working on it brings back a flood of memories, and I can't wait to get back home.

Posted by Wil at 11:02 AM | Permalink | Comments (24)

I published a story for the SG Newswire this morning about a USB flash drive that encrypts your data, and automatically self-destructs if someone attempts to brute-force the password too many times.

The drive is made by a company called Kington, but whenever I look at the name, I keep seeing Klingon. I guess it's some sort of geek dyslexia.

So I made a couple of geeky Klingon jokes in the entry, using the Wikipedia entry on Klingon as a reference.

Holy cow, man, I love the Wikipedia, and I spend way too much time just randomly reading entries and filling my head with facts, but I haven't read an entry as entertaining and just plain cool as the Klingon entry in a long, long time. If you've got some time to spare, you should totally check it out.

When you're done with WikiPedia, and you still need more Klingon goodness in your day, browse the Klingon tag at Flickr; it's a great collection of fans, the guys at Star Trek the Experience in Las Vegas, and all sorts of people and pets with wrinkly foreheads.

Image comes from the "Klingon Convention Trauma" merchandise in my CafePress store.

Posted by Wil at 9:26 AM | Permalink | Comments (17) | TrackBacks (1)

Trent: They're gonna give daddy the Rainman suite, you dig that?
Mike: Do you think we'll get there by midnight?
Trent: Baby, we're going to be up five hundy by midnight!
Mike: Yeeeeaaaaahhhhhh!
Trent: Vegas baby! Vegas!
Mike: Vegas!

-Swingers

The briefest of updates: I heard back from my manager about the Sci-Fi hosting gig. It's all very good news, but I can't talk about it until Monday.

Okay, maybe I can talk about it a little bit: They really liked me.

There are still about a million things that have to happen before it turns into a job for me, but at least I know that they liked me, and liked what I did. That's all I can ask for, right?

Posted by Wil at 2:06 PM | Permalink | Comments (51)

The day I got the WWdN database fixed, and had all the old WWdN entries rescued and readable was the day I found the path out of Exile.

Now that I know there are two ways out of this prison (in a pine box, or through that large opening over there that we all like to think of as "off limits, as a favor to me,") it doesn't make a whole lot of sense to me to stay here.

Which brings me back to the Typepad vs. MT w/plugins issue. I spent a lot of time thinking about what I like about Typepad, that MT 3.2 doesn't have out of the box, and I came up with three things: Typepad has a great WYSIWYG editor, it easily and seamlessly handles uploading images and enclosures, like the RFB files, and all those little things on the right side are so easy to add and remove and update, I can't believe I ever did any hand-coding of tables and filled them with php includes (which I also had to create and edit by hand.)

But I miss WWdN, and all its lameness and non-W3C-compliance. I miss its out of date FAQ and musical suggestions. I miss its clunky archives and the sense that, even though it's a shitty house, it's my house, goddammit.

Redesigning issues aside, can I move back to WWdN and still have as much control as I have right now? And most important: will it be easy?

I've been playing around with three different editors that all have WYSIWYG editing, and various other features:

• Flock, which is a browser that is built on top of Firefox with integrated blogging tools.
• Performancing, which is a Firefox extension that puts a WYSISYG editor into your browser.
• ecto, which is an editor and publishing tool that lets you compose and edit entries outside of your browser.

Flock is pretty cool. It's got a nice editor, and I especially like how it seamlessly integrates Flickr images and del.icio.us bookmarks into your blogging experience. It integrates lots of tools and appears geared toward blogging and anything which involves a tag. If I was all about that sort of thing, I'd be really into flock, but since I'm not, I can't see myself using it.

Performancing is also really nice. I love that it easily inserts technorati tags and adds del.icio.us bookmarks whenever you update one of your blogs, (if you want it to), and I love that it lets you see a ton of information on the page you're viewing. It's a free Firefox extension, and free is good.

But I think ecto is the way to go for me. It does all of the things that the other two do, and adds in too many features for me to list here. I was introduced to ecto when Xeni told me she uses it to update boingboing, and even though I have to buy a license for it, if it's good enough for boingboing, it's totally good enough for me.

Last night, while I was goofing off with ecto, I ended up quasi-live-blogging part of an episode of TNG:

I'm watching one of my favorite (and most heartbreaking) episodes of TNG, The Offspring. It's one of the best episodes we ever did, and it nearly reaches  --

UGH! There I am in the ugly grey space suit on Stage 9. I'm not acting very well right here, even though the scene is really about the Admiral. Nice package on Wesley, though. Eww. Gross.

Gods. Data has to say good bye to Lal now. This always makes me cry a little bit. Lal says, "I love you, father," and Data just looks at her and says, "I wish I could feel it, too."

It's such a testament to the writing in this episode (and the actors in the scene) that Data didn't end up doing a cheesy "I love you too," thing. It's so true to his character that he remains emotionally unattached, because Data doesn't have emotions. (I always thought it was an insanely stupid fucking move to give Data his emotion chip, like giving Geordi sight. Weak.)

Heh. I just said, "Course is set, sir." See? That's why I hated working on TNG in those days. Even though the episode is great, just saying those stupid lines bored me to. fucking. death.

Now G4 is running an ad for Star Trek 2.0, which I think is going to be the dumbest thing to happen to the original series in 40 years. And now, it's time for Futurama on [adult swim].

So I have three things left to do before I can return to WWdN (in this order):

1. Find an editor that I like, that's easy to use and reliable. I'm pretty sure I've done that.
2. Figure out a way to easily update modular content for the non-blog areas of the site. This feels like it should be fairly easy, but I haven't put all that much time into reading the MT forums or digging through the plug-ins. I suspect the answer is to use MT-Includes that are files linked to various MT Templates. Alternatively, I can figure out some sort of web-based php backend that will let me update all that information without having to go into an html editor offline, and ftp the damn thing whenever I want to make a chance. And don't even talk to me about ssh-ing into the server and using vi from a shell prompt. Those days are long behind me. This is, I think, the stickiest widget.
3. Complete the re-design. We're working on this, and once we figure out a couple more things, it will go live very quickly.

Posted by Wil at 1:56 PM | Permalink | Comments (30) | TrackBacks (3)

Mike: So how long do I wait to call?
Trent: A day.
Mike: Tomorrow.
Sue: Tomorrow, then a day.
Trent: Yeah.
Mike: So two days?
Trent: Yeah, I guess you could call it that, two days.
Sue: Definitely, two days is like industry standard.
Trent: You know I used to wait two days to call anybody, but now it's like everyone in town waits two days. So I think three days is kind of money. What do you think?
Sue: Yeah, but two's enough not to look anxious.

-Swingers

The audtion yesterday was fantastic. I thought I'd be there for thirty minutes or so, but I ended up working with them for almost three hours (and making it home too late for my Tuesday night poker game.) I read with six different women who are all in the running to co-host the show, and I was shocked at how much fun I had. If I book the job, I'd be the geek, she'd be the babe, and everyone in the audience would have something to enjoy.

In fact, when I got home, I told Ryan, "Dude. I had the best afternoon: I got to sit with beautiful women and talk about Sci-Fi! Three of them were former Miss USA contestants, and one of them was Playmate of the Year for 2005."

"Dude." He said. "You are my hero."

I have this post-audition ritual: after I leave, I find the first trashcan and dump my sides in it. It's how I let go of the whole thing, because I've already done everything I can do, you know? I've pushed my chips into the pot with the best of it, and now I have to wait for five cards to come out and hope that I win when it's all over.

This time, I did dump the sides and my note cards (I have the notes on my Powerbook for easy re-printing, should I get called back) and I've tried to get on with my life . . . but holy shit is it hard. I had so much fun while I was there, and the prospect of getting a weekly gig where I get to geek out about Sci-Fi stuff -- and get paid to do it! -- is just too much. I've already called my manager twice today to see if we'd gotten any feedback.

"I haven't heard anything, yet," he said, the second time I called. "Normally, I'll call the next day, but if they don't call . . ."

"It's like you just met a girl in a bar, and you don't want to screw it up by calling too soon, isn't it?" I said.

He laughed. "Yeah, it's exactly like that."

"So . . . are we calling today?"

"I think it's best to wait until tomorrow, because they have to take your tapes to executives, get approvals, and all sorts of things."

"So, what, two days?" I said.

"Yeah, there's a lot of things that have to happen before they give us any feedback, so we'll just have to wait until we hear from them." He said. "Then there's the whole negotiation thing, too."

"You'll call me, right?"

"I'll call you right away." He said.

I hung up the phone and looked at the calendar. I thought about drawing a circle around the 17th. I may have done it.

I'm sure I'm going to feel like a real jerk if this doesn't happen, but I love this feeling of excitement and optimism that I have right now. It's much nicer than the usual alternative.

Posted by Wil at 1:51 PM | Permalink | Comments (78)

I absolutely love that one particular kind of pepperoni pizza that you get at the mini golf course.

You know the one: it's cardboardy, the pepperonis are usually burnt a little bit, and the cheese burns the everlovingfuck out of your mouth when you bite into it, just before it slides off in one whole piece and sticks to your chin or falls onto your Journey concert shirt.

If I could eat that pizza while I listened to Hall & Oates and played Space Invaders, I could be in fourth grade for the rest of my life.

Posted by Wil at 9:27 AM | Permalink | Comments (17) | TrackBacks (1)

Riley woke me up at 6 on Sunday morning. Then Ferris re-woke me up at 7:30. I finally gave in and got out of bed at 8. On a Sunday. So very, very wrong.

I moved in ultimate slow motion and didn't get to the convention until just before noon. I set my stuff up on my little table, sat down, and thirty seconds later discovered that I really didn't want to be there. It was cold, I was tired, the crowd was very, very small, and the people on stage were too interesting to miss.

So I packed up my stuff, trucked it back to my car, grabbed my camera and iRiver, and did something I haven't done for years: I walked around the Grand Slam convention as a fan.

I listened to astronauts talk about doing for real what I used to do for fakes, which was nothing new for me (I've had the great fortune to meet and talk with several different astronauts over the years) but is also something I will never, ever, take for granted. These guys have been telling the same stories for nearly forty years, but whenever they talk about blasting off, or looking back at Earth from orbit, they could have just stepped out of the capsule after landing. Their enthusiasm for science and their ability to infect their audience with the same is something everyone should get a chance to experience at least once. I'm thrilled that Creation is bringing astronauts to their shows, and I hope they do more in the future.

After their talks, I wandered over to the dealer's room, and took a few pictures. I'm happy to say that I only spent $15 before I left, on the coolest bit of geek ephemera I've seen in a long time (I purchased the d20 keychain) before heading back over to the main auditorium to listen to Ron Moore speak.

I knew Ron was coming to the show, because I'd read it in his blog late Saturday night, and I hoped that I'd get a chance to talk with him one-on-one, but I didn't expect that I'd run right into him backstage before he went on.

He lit up when he saw me for the first time in over fifteen years, and my prepared speech about how I didn't know if he remembered me flew out of my head. In one of those "hand on the car" moments, a series of images flashed through my mind in an instant, as I recalled some of the things he did for my character: Yesterday's Enterprise, the first time I got to do something really different on the bridge; The First Duty, the first (and only) time we saw Wesley interact with his peers, act his age, and witness his angst-ridden humanity; and Journey's End, the first (and only) time we saw Wesley as an adult, willing to take a principled stand against his father figure, Captain Picard. I felt a surge of emotion well up in my chest, and before I knew the words were coming out of my mouth, I said, "When we worked together on TNG, I was too young, and too immature to appreciate what you gave me as an actor, and what you did for my character. I know it's fifteen years late, but I wanted to say thank you."

He smiled warmly. "Thank you," he said. "It really means a lot to me to hear that."

I wanted so badly to tell him how I'd do anything in the world to be on his show, but I couldn't think of a way to say that without spoiling the moment, or coming off like a schmuck, so I just congratulated him on the success of the show, and asked him if he had as much creative control as he wanted.

"I do," he said. "I'm very lucky to work with great people, and the network is very supportive of what we want to do. Of course, we battle, but they are always good battles that make the show better."

He was called onto the stage before we could talk any longer, and as he stepped through the curtain to absolutely deafening applause, I felt happy. I've discovered that all I want to do as an artist (whether it's acting, writing, or whatever) is make something that matters to people; and I know that to be true for all the artists I know, particularly the writers. Ron, like Joss Whedon, has done that, and I felt happy for him in that weird i-was-just-talking-to-you way when the crowd went nuts for him.

I recorded some of what he said on my iRiver; it'll be on a future episode of RFB.

When Ron was done, I wandered around the con some more, talked to a lot of people, and managed to completely miss BIlly West's talk, where I hear he announced that there will be new episodes of Futurama on FOX either later this year or early next year. I spoke with Billy after he was done, and he gave me enough industry-specific details to assure me that this is for real, so get ready for hawesomeness.

By this time, my lungs were gasping for air and --

Sorry. Nerdy MST3K reference that 5% of you will understand. I should also point out that nobody will be admitted during the exciting rock climbing portion of the film.

By this time, I was really hungry, so I grabbed Rod Roddenberry and his girlfriend Heidi, and we went across the street to the Yardhouse for pizza and beer and sashimi and beer and grilled chicken sandwiches and beer. When we were younger, Rod and I goofed off on the set whenever we got the chance, and as we've grown older, we've spent a lot of time sharing stories about his dad. Rod is an amazing person, and in ways that we both understand but can't vocalize to anyone but each other, we're like long-lost half-brothers. It's always fantastic to spend time with him, and my only real regret for the whole weekend is that we didn't have more time to catch up and goof off.

After we ate, it was nearly 5:30, and I had to pick the kids up at 6, so I made my way back through the convention hall to say some goodbyes. On my way in, someone said to me, "Frakes was talking smack about you onstage," and I instantly knew that Jonathan told the "you used to be cool" story. I laughed out loud and hoped wished there was some way I could stop time long enough to visit with him.

I found Jonathan backstage, and said, "I can tell, just by looking at you . . . "

"That you used to be cool," he said. He wrapped his arms around me and hugged me.

"W," he said, "it is so great to see you."

"You too," I said.

"Are you on your way out, or are you hanging around?" He said.

"I have to go pick up the kids," I said.

"How are they?"

"They're great. They're teenagers now, you know."

He chuckled and shook his head. "Man, we are getting so old!" I noticed that the impish glint I loved when we worked together, and always look for when I see him, was still in his eye.

"Are you well?" He said.

"Mostly," I said. "You?"

"I am great, man."

We talked as long as we could, about kids, and houses, and Star Trek and work and wives and all the things that I never could have talked about when I was younger. I just adore Jonathan, and I was genuinely sad when I saw that I had to leave to get the kids.

"I gotta go, Jonny," I said, "and I hope that it won't be a year again before I get to see you, but i'm pretty sure it will be."

"You look great, W," he said. Then he pointed at the huge screen that made up the back of the stage. "But not as good as Avery."

Avery Brooks did look great. He looked cooler than Shaft, and more stylish than anyone else in the convention hall.

"He's really fucking up the cool curve for us, isn't he?" I said.

"Ah, don't worry, W," he said with a grin. "I can tell just by looking at you that you used to be cool."

"You too," I said.

Posted by Wil at 12:32 PM | Permalink | Comments (50) | TrackBacks (1)

Oh man, what a great day!

Firefly panel: HAWESOME.
G4 booth babes: HAWESOME
Talking with Brent: HAWESOME.
Reading and Q&A: HAWESOME.

I'm just too damn tired to get into the details now, but I have lots of great notes, and I recorded my entire talk for a future RFB.

I'm going to fall into bed, now.

Update: Actually, there is one thing really worth adding right now, while the memory of it is still more visceral than intellectual.

The last question I took during my Q&A (the first I've done in several years) was about Michael Piller. A woman asked me if I could comment on Michael, and what it was like to work with him. All my comments are recorded, but they can be distilled down to this: Michael was brilliant, and he made The Next Generation great. When I was done, and sadly after I'd switched off my recorded, Harry Kloor, a friend of mine who is an accomplished writer and producer, walked up to the stage, and he said, "I wrote for Michael. He was like a father to all of us."

I turned the microphone back on, and told the crowd, "There's something I think you should hear, that's important."

I gave the mic to Harry, and he said, "I just told Wil that Michael was like a father to all of his writers. He could be stern, he could be tough, he could be nurturing, and he could be supportive. And he made all of us want to be -- no, he made us better writers."

I thought it was a wonderful tribute to Michael's memory and his legacy: he didn't just leave us with amazing television like Star Trek and The Dead Zone; Michael also helped a lot of writers discover and achieve their potential. He cast a stone into a pond, and the ripples (like Battlestar Galactica, for one) are just beginning to show.
 

Posted by Wil at 10:13 PM | Permalink | Comments (20)

"The mind spends most of the time lost in fantasies and illusions, reliving pleasant or unpleasant experiences and anticipating the future with eagerness or fear. While lost in such cravings or aversions, we are unaware of what is happening now, what we are doing now. Yet surely this moment, now, is the most important for us. We cannot live in the past; it is gone. Nor can we live in the future; it is forever beyond our grasp. We can live only in the present. If we are unaware of our present actions, we are condemned to repeating the mistakes of the past and can never succeed in attaining our dreams for the future. But if we can develop the ability to be aware of the present moment, we can use the past as a guide for ordering our actions in the future, so that we may attain our goal". --S.N. Goenka, The Art of Living

Thank you, Michael, for the above quote.

The convention was pretty fun today, even though it was freezing cold in the room where I was set up. It's Friday, so the crowds were very light (probably 600 people total in the whole place today) which gave me time to visit with old friends, and spend lots of time with the few fans who stopped by my table to chat.

Two long-time WWdN readers stopped by, and shared some incredibly supportive and kind thoughts after reading my blog the last few days. That was really, really thoughtful and cool. Thank you.

I sold about 10% of the limited edition chapbooks -- which, I must say, turned out to be really fantastic. I am so glad I had a printer do them for me, rather than trying to assemble them on my own.

The coolest thing happened: about half of the people who bought the chapbook returned within thirty minutes or so to tell me how much they liked it. One woman told me she loved it, and couldn't wait to hear me perform material from it tomorrow. That made me feel really good, and validated the work I put into the stories, and putting the book together.

There was a camera crew there today, from a well-known late night talk show, and they wanted to talk to me and Chase Masterson. I told them no, because it was clear that they were only there to make Star Trek fans look like assholes, and I wasn't going to be part of that. For fuck's sake, you guys: these people are here because they love Star Trek, or Lost, or Firefly, or whatever. They're thrilled to be around like-minded people where it's totally cool to dress up and challenge each other to quote-offs. They're not here so you can laugh at them, you jerks.

Because the crowds were so light, I got to wander the dealer's room, and really take in all the cool stuff that I used to get so excited about back in the old days; things like FASA Star Trek RPG sourcebooks, classic Star Wars toys  . . .

[cheesy fade effect, and some appropriate music, please.]

At one point, I walked past a booth that had lots of classic Star Wars toys in it. I glanced in, and my eyes fell on an original Darth Vader's TIE Fighter. I had that toy when I was a kid, and just looking at it was like those car commercials where the guy touches the car, and he gets this rapid-fire burst of images until he takes his hand off of it. I saw that toy, and was assaulted by this rapid-fire burst of images of riding in the car to KMart with my parents, hoping to buy a new Star Wars toy, playing with the toys on the gold shag carpeting in front of the brick fireplace in the house in Sunland, running around the back yard in the fading evening light in the dummer of 1980, me piloting the TIE fighter, chasing my brother who piloted a snow speeder. (We weren't afraid to combine Star Wars and He*Man, so why not combine Star Wars and Empire Strikes Back?)

[cheesy fade effect, and some appropriate music, please.]

I know I only stood there and looked at it for a few seconds, but it felt like several minutes. I like it when things like that happen.

I also got lots of audio to use in a future podcast, and some of it is really cool. I'll have a Grand Slam podcast next week, probably.

Tomorrow is going to be a great day. The crowds are expected to hit near 2000, and the several cast members from Firefly and Lost will be giving talks. I'm pretty sure I'll leave my table during the Firefly talks, and I'm going to try to get Morena Baccarin to tell me that she loves me. Failing that, I'll see if I can get Adam Baldwin to do the same.

And on that incredibly uncomfortable note, I'm going to open a Newcastle, and go watch some TV with my wife.

Posted by Wil at 7:21 PM | Permalink | Comments (38)

"We've all had our ups and downs
It's been mostly down around here
Now this whole damn mess is becoming quite clear"
-Uncle Tupelo, Life Worth Living

Thank you for all your feedback on the podcast and the blog. Many more people responded than I expected, and virtually all of you wondered if I actually read what you wrote. I don't have time to respond to each e-mail directly, which feels shitty and disrespectful to me (you took the time, so why can't I?) but I think I can put here, for everyone, what I'd put into lots of different e-mails. I took it all to heart, and I am deeply grateful to everyone who saw my signal flare, and sent back one of their own.

So. Two things I suspected were confirmed. The first: I can't please everyone, so I'm just going to please myself. That sounds dirty. Let me try a different way: For every person who said they didn't like the "sacchrine stories about my family" someone said they loved the "heartwarming stories about family life." For every person who said "I wish you'd write more about politics" someone said, "I'm glad you don't write about politics very much." Everyone liked the narrative-style poker stories, and nobody likes the dry, technical poker posts. I agree. That's why I moved most of my poker content to CardSquad. I haven't had many stories to tell, but when I have a story that's more like Odessa than a dry retelling of the flop, turn and river, I'll publish it again.

Lots of you came here for different reasons: Star Trek, movies, gaming, technology, politics, family stories. I noticed that most writers wanted to hear more of whatever brought them here in the first place and less of everything else. I've said before that attempting to please everybody results in pleasing nobody, so I'll just have to write about all of those things when they strike me, and hopefully when I'm interested I'll be interesting and worth both of our time.

Thing the second: the general theme, from people who I know in real life to people who have read me for years, to people who have just been reading for a few months: my blog, once interesting, has become average and lacks passion.

My blog, which is a reflection of my life, has become average because I've allowed it to happen. I'm not entirely sure how it happened, but at least I'm aware of it, and I can begin the long and painful process of ripping myself out of my average rut, and moving to where I want to be.

I've been reading a lot of Seth Godin's blog, and his book The Purple Cow. In Purple Cow, Seth says that the first few cows you see are really interesting, but they eventually blur together and you forget about them. Then you see a purple cow, and it's extraordinary, and you take notice, and you can't believe you were ever impressed by a regular old cow. He uses it as a metaphor for marketers, but it applies to anyone who produces some sort of media or entertainment; it certainly applies to me.

Years ago, my Purple Cow was obvious: I was one of the first well-known actors to openly write about the experience. And there was that whole Wesley Crusher thing. Nobody else was doing what I did, so it was extraordinary. Over the years, I've fallen onto the other side of the bell curve, and now I find myself squarely in "average" land.

What do I do to paint my cow again? I'm not sure. Obviously, getting work as an actor again would be nice, and fire up my passions; working on some real fiction would also do that.

The excerpt I published yesterday is part of a very short story (it's only about 2000 words) but it's a start. I'm doing some work on it (changing from first to third person, for one) and I'm looking forward to publishing it next week. Maybe that will kick off something new for me that makes it worth your while to drop by my blog.

In many ways, I feel like I've run really hard, and really fast, and ended up right back where I started.

I know I'm a good actor, and I know that I can connect with an audience and do extraordinary work. That's not enough to close the gap between me sitting in an audition, and me getting hired. So I'm right back where I was five years ago.

Anne's ex isn't supporting his kids, putting the burden on me and Anne, and getting away with it. I'm right back where I was five years ago.

I'm struggling, creatively unfulfilled, filled with self-doubt and more than a little bit of self lothing. I'm right back where I was five years ago.

And you know what? I'm really sad that I've failed as an actor. I'm really sad that, even though I tried so hard my whole life to develop this skill, and even though I know I'm extremely good at it, I have failed to have any lasting success with it. It's not my fault, I don't think, -- well, other than the reasons I detail in Just A Geek (which makes a lovely gift) -- that the entertainment industry lost interest in me and what I bring to the party, but when I'm not acting in some capacity, I feel like a big part of my soul is dead. Writing helps, a little bit, but it's like methadone to acting's heroin. I'd love to find a play to do around town, or do another sketch comedy show, or do some improv, but the unavoidable, brutal truth is that I can't afford to. I don't have the time to devote to it, but I have to somehow find it, and walk a dangerous, delicate, precarious and fine line between providing for my family, spending time with (and enjoying) my family, and hitting the acting needle as frequently and as hard as I can without becoming a gutter burnout.

It's tough to write anything from the inside of my heart lately, because I feel like I'm just a big stupid crybaby. In my brains, I know that things could be a lot, lot worse (I know that, really I do, and because I know that I'm reluctant to even publish any of these thoughts) but in my heart and soul, I feel defeated.

Just completely defeated. And I don't have enough time. And. And. And.

I know that I have the tools and the power to turn this feeling of defeat into something better, and I know that I'm indulging a whole lot of self-pity . . . but at least I'll admit it, and own that feeling.

This is part of the journey, I guess. Maybe being where I was five years ago isn't so bad. Five years ago, I had a lot of really great stuff to write about, and a very Purple Cow to share.

Posted by Wil at 10:17 AM | Permalink | Comments (136)

Anne just told me this:

"Last night, I walked down the hallway, past Nolan's room. I looked in, and saw that he was in his bed, with the light off, snuggled up next to Riley [who sleeps on his bed -- all 47 pounds of her.]

"I said, 'Hey, pookie, are you going to sleep?'

"He looked up at me, and said, 'No, mom, I'm just layin' here.' He paused for a second and added,  'Here's your sign.'"

I'm still laughing.

Posted by Wil at 8:02 PM | Permalink | Comments (23) | TrackBacks (1)

I finished work on the chapbook last night, and as soon as I get an illustration from Ben (who did all the art for Dancing Barefoot), it's going to a local print shop. I doubt I'll have it on Friday, but I will have it at the convention on Saturday and Sunday. Oh, and I gave it a title. It's called "More Than This."

I spent the first half of today working on Games of our Lives, then had an epiphany (to be discussed on today's RFB) that lead me to write a fictional short story called Language Barrier.

It's with my editor, but I have a little excerpt which I can share now:

I became aware of voices behind me. Two women. They spoke with heavy Russian accents.

"Martina," one of them said, "you don't understand. He пребывания вне поздно, никогда не выбирают вверх после себя, and doesn't even know me!" 

"Sophia, вы возбужены --" She was older than the first.

"I am not excited, and don't talk to me like I am a child. Будете вы моим другом или не?"

"Of course I'm your friend. And of course I want you to be happy --"

"So why won't you support me?"

An Escalade pulled up in front of the restaurant, bass thumping, temporarily turning the window into a mirror. I caught a glimpse of their reflection: Martina, the older one, faced away from me. Her hair was huge and processed. She wore a light colored top. Sophia, younger, had black hair and pale skin. The Escalade drove away and I squinted my eyes against the midday sun. I looked down at the tan line on my left hand. Two months and it still hadn't gone away. Two months and I still felt bitter, when I didn't feel numb. Two months and I was alone in a restaurant, fantasizing about fucking a girl I hadn't even seen, based on her sexy Russian accent.

More to come . . .

Posted by Wil at 4:19 PM | Permalink | Comments (19)

I'm working like crazy on this chapbook, so it's been a day of intense output, with Real Jazz on XM to provide me some inspiring input. I've narrowed it down to three stories across about 17 pages, and it's going to be pretty damn cool, even if I say so myself.

Jesusmotherallahbuddha, I really need to get out of the house, and stretch my legs and my brains. Just walking the dogs around the block between thunderstorms isn't doing it for me. I'm going nuts here.

I really need to get the hell out of suburbia, man. I think there's a trip up to Lucky Baldwin's in my very near future, so if you see a guy sitting at the end of the bar surrounded by empty glasses which were formerly pints of Guinness, scribbling like mad in a Molskine notebook, approach with caution (or with another pint.)

To take a little break tonight, though, I'm playing in my weekly WWdN game at PokerStars. It starts in 20 minutes, so if you're interested in goofing off with some poker nerds and me (redundant redundant) fire up the client and go to Tourneys -> Private and look for WWdN #17.

Speaking of PokerStars, my friends from the marketing department sent me a TON of hats, T-shirts, and cool 'Stars schwag to give away at the convention this weekend.

Ryan and I keep quoting this line from Family Guy: "And I, uh, thought that dogs, uh, laid eggs. So, so, so I, uh, I learned something today."

and

"Hey! Where's my money?!"

Okay, back to work for fifteen minutes, then it's poker time.

Posted by Wil at 5:17 PM | Permalink | Comments (13)

Sean Bonner spilled meme all over me, so . . .

Four Jobs I've Had In My Life in LA:
Working Actor
Struggling Actor
Desperately Struggling Actor
Writer

Four Movies About LA I Could Watch Over And Over:
Swingers
LA Confidential
The Big Lebowski
Blade Runner

Four Places I've Lived All Over L.A. (With Food Memories From Each):
Sunland: Walking to Bob's Big Boy for Big Boy Combos with my parents
La Crescenta: Big chicken and beef bowls from Yakis
Westwood: 45-cent frozen burritos from breadstix
Pasadena: Super Fire Hot Wings at Hooters in Old Town, where it all began

Four LA-Themed Shows I Love(d) To Watch:
CHiPs
Alias
Three's Company
Emergency!

Four Places I Would Vacation At In LA:
Shutters in Santa Monica
Any campground in the San Gabriel Mountains
The Biltmore downtown
The Ritz Carlton in South Pasadena

Four LA-Based Websites I Visit Daily:
blogging.la
BoingBoing
Nickerblog
Bill Rini

Four Of My Favorite Foods Found In LA:
Huevos rancheros from Cafe Verde
Big chicken bowl w/ potato salad and extra green sauce from Yakis
Petit fillet from The Arroyo Chophouse
Grilled Dodger Dogs from the Inner Reserve level at Dodger Stadium

Four Places In LA I Would Rather Be Right Now:
Somewhere with my wife
Amoeba Music
Echo Mountain
Zuma Beach

Tagged:
Annie
Shane [done. HAWESOME]
Xeni
Ryan [done, and happy birthday!]

(photo via atomicShed on flickr)

Posted by Wil at 9:57 AM | Permalink | Comments (15) | TrackBacks (1)

When I posted about the Race for the Cure last Sunday, I hoped that I'd generate $500 in donations, but I expected to get somewhere closer to $200.

I am so pleased, and so thrilled to announce that WWdN:iX readers joined together to contribute eight hundred and twenty-four dollars to the Susan G. Komen Breast Cancer Foundation in Los Angeles County.

I've thanked each of you individually, and now I'd like to thank you all publicly:

From PokerStars -

1. Johnny
2. Carsten
3. Misty
4. Big Slick Nuts

From WWdN:iX -

1. Daniel G.
2. Lara W, in honor or Aunt Catherine
3. Rob S.
4. Christian R.
5. Kate L.
6. Michelle M.
7. Carrie I.
8. Kirsten W.
9. Ray and Erica B.
10. Tony and Elizabeth M.
11. John D.
12. Shauna R.
13. David V.
14. Wendy M.
15. Christina C.
16. Holly H.
17. Ryan W.
18. Christopher E.
19. Christine R.
20. Chris S.
21. Anonymous, for Shannon.
22. Damon B.
23. Paul S.
24. Mary M.
25. Martin R.
26. Paul G.
27. Jean S.

I love the "distributed fundraising" part of this whole thing. Thanks to the Internets, I was able to reach more people, more easily, and more quickly than if I'd sent out a ton of paper letters, or walked through my neighborhood knocking on doors. In fact, some of you even sent donations from Great Britain, which arrived here almost instantaneously thanks to Pay Pal. Ten years ago, that wouldn't have been nearly as easy as it was this week, if it was even possible at all. You know, we can make a very positive difference in the world, simply by coming together when we have an opportunity to build something that's greater than all of us individually.

For those of you who wanted to be part of this, but couldn't, our friend Kris is back in the hospital, so Anne and I are doing the Rock and Roll Marathon again this year, and our fundraising is just about to get started. This year, we'll have a blog dedicated to training and updates, as well as some in-person fundraisers in Los Angeles and some virtual fundraisers online (poker tourneys, eBay auctions, etc.)

Thank you all for your kindness, support, and generosity.

Posted by Wil at 9:47 AM | Permalink | Comments (16)

Don't you love it when you chase some links down the Internets rabbit hole and discover something hawesome you wouldn't have discovered on your own?

I started at boingboing, where Cory linked to a blog created by Pixar employees who offer advice to Disney on how to improve Disneyland. I love Disneyland (I've been a nerd for MiceAge, Laughing Place, and Yesterland for years) and I really hate what they did to the park in the last decade or so, especially the absolutely horrifying "updating" of Tomorrowland. It was cool to read this post where Merlin Jones says many of the same things I've been saying for years:

The utopian, ultramodern design of 1967's New Tomorrowland, gleaming like a moonscape in stark white, black and cool shades of blue and silver, was unsucessfully updated in 1998 to reflect a bronzed Victorian/Vernian mechanical view of the future. While this was great at Disneyland Paris, where the concept was fully realized, it never gelled here in Anaheim, particularly as a layover to the modernist original.

[. . .]

Tomorrowland's apocalypse is the elephant-in-the-room at Disneyland. It should be fixed immediately - - and before any new expansion or additions. This decay impacts the guest's experience and memory of the park. The imminent return of Submarine Voyage and new Monorail trains will help get the ball rolling. Why not drop the other shoe and revive the entire land at the same time? It would be a marketing coup.

The blog is still relatively young, and I read the entire thing in about thirty well-spent minutes. I hope that the new management at Disneyland will listen up: it's not about selling plush toys or trading pins, guys. It's not about "synergy" with whatever movie is going to be forgotten in two years. Disneyland is about escaping from the cares and troubles of real life, and immersing ourselves in a world of Adventure, Fantasy, and a great big beautiful Tomorrow.

Continuing down the rabbit hole: I looked at some of the links on their blog, and found myself at Don Shank's blog, which has some really amzing artwork he did for The Incredibles (one of my favorite movies of all-time) as well as some ultra cool artwork he's done for himself. I can do a lot of things, but drawing is a skill that has always eluded me. As far back as fifth grade, I remember my dodge ball nemesis Jimmie Just could draw the most amazing monsters and things, while I struggled to do a step-by-step Garfield (which Donald Garwood could draw flawlessly.) I've favorited and bloglines-ed Don's blog, and some day I'll get the courage to ask him if he'll do a drawing for one of my books.

I hope this illustrates how cool the internets is: I never would have seen Don Shank's blog if I didn't read boingboing, and I wouldn't read boingboing if I hadn't met Cory at the Boxing with Barney EFF event several years ago. (Even though I read the 'zine version of boingboing back in the day, I didn't know it was a website until 2002-ish.) It's sort of like following real-life hyperlinks to a website, where you follow traditional hyperlinks long enough to find that place down the Long Tail that seems to speak only to you.

Photo of Space Mountain via Flickr user Sky Traveler
Image of Noobly Squirbulette via Don Shank's blog.

Posted by Wil at 1:50 PM | Permalink | Comments (14) | TrackBacks (1)

From time to time, I really enjoy a nice grilled cheese sandwich. Melt a bit of sharp cheddar (Tillamook extra sharp is my favorite, if I can find it here in LA -- there's some embargo which usually prevents anything better than plain old sharp from making it to our stores) and dip it in a spot of French's plain old yellow mustard before each bite, and I am a happy, happy guy. (I just wrote "man," then erased it. Then I wrote "dude" and erased that and tried "man" again. Then, I wrote "Dennis," which made me laugh really hard. Then I settled on "guy."

So. I'm trying my very best not to get some sort of unhappy cold thing which currently involves a whole lot of coughing and this weird heaviness in my chest. It started after the 5K yesterday, and by last night it required the use of some Advil. Today, I've mostly felt like shit, but this afternoon, my body said, "Hey! You there! Old Woman!"

Nah, I'm just kidding. I really want to go into a whole Holy Grail quote-fest, but this entry is already far too silly.

My body said, "Hey, guy, dude, dennis, man, dude, manguy, guymanndude, guy, I want a grilled cheese."

"Whatever you say, Mr. BIllboard," I said.[1]

I grabbed two pieces of the best bread ever, which is called Sheepherder's Bread (it comes from Trader Joe's.) Then I grabbed two slices of Tillamook sharp cheddar and shook my fist Northward at whoever is preventing the extra sharp goodness from making its way to my door. I decided that since I'd be burping cheese the rest of the night (gross!) I may as well burp ham and cheese, so I grabbed some ham out of the meat drawer and put it on the bread and closed the whole thing up. Then, I did something really white trash: instead of butter, I sprayed some cooking spray on the pan . . . and on the bread, too.

I know. Gross. Deal.

So I turned on the burner, and began turning this mass of meat, bread, cheese, and cooking spray into the glory which is a grilled ham and cheese.

Until, uh, I forgot to turn the heat down after a second, and the bread charred a little bit.

No worries, I thought, I'll just flip it over, turn the heat down, and when it's time to eat this bitch, I'll do it after-school-1982-style: scraped with a knife into the sink. Yeeeeaaargghh!

I flipped it, turned down the heat, and walked to the dining room hutch to get a plate. When I came back into the kitchen, there was far too much smoke coming off the skillet to be good.

I learned an important lesson: spraying with cooking spray may be easier than slathering with butter, but it burns at a much lower temperature than butter does, which results in an after-school-1979-style grilled ham and cheeese: scraped with a knife into the sink, with most of the cheese still cold and unmelted except at the edges. And the ham is lukewarm too.

Not even the mustard could save it, and I'm burping ham and cheese for nothing.

[1] After the abomination that was last night's sad attempt to do a tired old parody of My Fair Lady, I hereby announce that The Simpsons has leaped the shark, and harpooned it from orbit. AAaayyy.

Posted by Wil at 6:12 PM | Permalink | Comments (80) | TrackBacks (1)

via Bruce Schneier:

More on Port Security

From Defective Yeti:

Sark Defends Port Deal

Sark today sought to quell the growing controversy over his decision to grant the MCP control of several major ports throughout the region.

"I believe that this arrangement with the Master Control Program should go forward," Sark told reporters aboard Solar Sailer One. He emphasized that security would continued to be handled by Tank and Recognizer programs, with the MCP only be in charge of port operations.

But Dumont, guardian of the I/O towers, voiced skepticism. "I could understand ceding authority over ports 21 and 80," said Dumont. "But port 443? That's supposed to be secure!"

The public's reaction to the plan has also been overwhelmingly negative. "No no no," said a bit upon hearing the news. "No no no no." Others were more blunt. "Sark should be de-rezzed for even proposing this," said Ram, a financial program.

Sark, who has repeatedly denied having ties to the MCP, has insisted that the hand-over go through, and says that he will vigorously resist any effort to block it. But programs such as Yori are equally adamant that the deal be scuttled. "My User," she said, "have we already forgotten the lessons of 1000222846?"

Posted by Wil at 12:06 PM | Permalink | Comments (6)

Anne and I ran in the Race for the Cure at the Rose Bowl yesterday. It was a perfect day for a run: mostly cloudy, not too humid, and around 65 when we started. I haven't run very much the last year, thanks to this stupid chronic pain in my right hip (the Miracle Balls are helping a lot. I'll write about that another time) but I've been jogging and walking almost every day for the last couple of weeks, so I was able to run the entire first mile, about half of the second mile, and about 2/3 of the last mile for a time of 35:21. It's not my best 5K time, but considering how little training I've done, I'll take it. Anne jogged the entire way, and she finished right around 38:00. Go Anne!

I don't know for sure, but I think I heard that there were about 17000 people walking and jogging in celebration of and in memory of their loved ones who have fought breast cancer. I remember this from the Avon 3 Day, the Rock N Roll Marathon, and the Race for the Cure last year: there are people of all ages, at all levels of fitness, who are walking, running, and jogging with the names and pictures of people they love pinned to their clothes, and it is impossible to be unaffected by them.

A few WWdN:iX readers sent some small contributions to me, which I've collected and will pass on to the Susan G. Komen foundation later this week. If anyone else wants to be added, you can send whatever you'd like to my paypal address (it's my first name at wilwheaton.net). I'll add it to the total I send on Friday, and I'll post the names of everyone who contributes in a special post at the end of the week.

Did you know that 1 in 7 women in America will be diagnosed with breast cancer sometime in her life? I had no idea it was so common, and I am proud to support the people who help women and their families, as well as the people who are seeking a cure.

Posted by Wil at 10:07 AM | Permalink | Comments (27)

I finished 23rd (or 21st, depending on who you ask) out of 317 players in the WPT Invitational last night, and I was the last "celebrity" player left standing, so I won $10,000 for the City of Hope in Duarte. It was really weird when I did my exit interviews, and they kept trying to get me to say I was the best celebrity poker player. I told them that I was probably the only player in the entire field who hosts two poker tournaments a week at PokerStars, and I owed a lot of my success and confidence to honing my skills online, and discussing the game with the WPBT.

I'm working on a write-up of the event, but this has been a rather hectic morning and I doubt I'll get a chance to post anything in-depth until later on. Until then, I absolutely have to thank Ryan Kallberg, aka Absinthe, who sent me a Dannenman-esqe strategy sheet that seriously helped me out. In fact, I'm confident that I wouldn't have made it past the first level of the day without Ryan's advice and support. There's a reason he cashed five times in the LA Poker Classic, including a first place finish in event number one. Thanks, Ryan. I owe you several beers.

If you missed it yesterday, and you'd like to retroactively view the action, you can head over to Pauly's blog, and read the live-updates from last night.

(Photo Credit: Dr. Pauly)

Posted by Wil at 12:13 PM | Permalink | Comments (42) | TrackBacks (1)

Well, I survived the first day of the World Poker Tour Invitational, and I've written up a recap of the day's action over at CardSquad:

If Maxim did a poker issue, it would be this tournament: the room is filled with big celebrities, beautiful models, and virtually every poker pro you could imagine. The atmosphere is more like a party than any other tourney I've ever played, and everyone is having a good time.

At the end of day one, there are 98 players left. I am in 68th, with T17500, which is just about half of the average stack of T32000. BJ has a complete list of the players and their stacks over at PokerPages, and of course Pauly has the best live blog on the Internets, which includes a ton of pictures.

I didn't get many cards to play all day, but when I did, I got paid off nicely. I took a couple of pots from Jason Alexander, and I even busted John Juanda when he ran his KQ into my pocket Aces.

Some of you may have read that I busted John. This is true, but it's not as exciting or masterful as you may think. John was crippled when Jason flopped Broadway for the nuts, and John made aces up on the turn. A few hands later, Daniel Negreanu came running over to our table with some guy I didn't recognize, and said to John, "Can you eat ten Saltines in sixty seconds?"

"What?" John said, and everyone else at the table thought.

"Saltine crackers. Can you eat ten of them in sixty seconds?"

John thought for a second while he looked at his cards.

"Yeah, I think I can," he said.

"Okay!" Daniel said, with a little hop. "Juanda is my horse! You get half my action, John."

"Let's do it!" John said, and shoved his last 1000 or so into the pot. It was folded to me, and I figured that the BB and I were calling based strictly on odds and probably checkint it down. That is, until I woke up with pocket aces.

"I have to raise," I said. While I thought about what amount would get the BB to maybe call with something that I could survive, he folded J2o face up.

"Go ahead and play it out," he said. "I'm not playing this."

I flipped up my aces, and John flipped up KQ. I flopped an ace, busted John Juanda, and ended up with about 16K after the whole thing was said and done. John and I shook hands, and the WPT cameras captured the whole thing. Daniel was putting on quite a show for them, calling for cards and stuff, and it was pretty funny, so it stands a good chance of making the broadcast, especially if I make it deep today.

I have a tough table today, with Scott Fischman immediately to my left, but I also know that I essentially have one steal, and after that it's push-or-fold time. If you're interested in tracking my action, Pauly will be live blogging me and the rest of the field at Tao of Poker.

Posted by Wil at 2:42 PM | Permalink | Comments (20)

I was up way too late last night, because I played in a 180 player Sit-n-go tournament at PokerStars, to warm myself up for the World Poker Tour Invitational, which I play in later today at the Commerce Casino.

I finished tenth, one off the final table, when I made a great call with A9 against QT when I flopped a pair of nines and he pushed. Sadly, he paired his queen on the turn and I didn't catch up on the river. I made $43 bucks for my trouble, though, a bunch of my WPBT friends sweated me through the whole thing, and I confirmed that my large-ish field tournament strategy is solid. I'll take my iRiver with me to the tourney, and put together an audio diary for RFB #5.

Anyway, the tourney went super late, and I was wound up when it was done and didn't settle down until well after midnight, so I ended up sleeping much later today than I normally do. I'm in a bit of a panic about hitting my various deadlines since I have two less hours to work with, but I wanted to point you all to this week's Games of our Lives: Shark! Shark!

In the great console wars of the '80s, Mattel's Intellivision was severely handicapped by its weird controllers and faux wood-grain finish. The Atari 2600, though technologically inferior, had a lower price, plus companies like Activision and Imagic cranking out tons of future classics for the system. But in 1982, Intellivision released Shark! Shark!, a game that was so successful, it even caught Mattel's marketing department off guard.

I loved playing Shark! Shark! and I'm going to do lots of Intellivision games for future columns. I wish I'd been able to get over its weird controllers and faux wood-grain finish -- oh, and had the $299 to purchase one -- back in the 1980s, because those Intellivision games rule.

Posted by Wil at 10:09 AM | Permalink | Comments (18)

Nolan and I ended up brushing our teeth at the same time last night, and while we stood next to each other in the bathroom, he looked at me in the mirror and said, "I had a really good time this weekend, Wil."

I dumped toothpaste foam all over the place as I said, "I did, too."

Friday

I was supposed to head out to the Infamous Murderer's Row homegame for some crazy poker action, but several events conspired to keep me home, where I played in the Donkeys Always Draw Heads-Up Championship. My results are over at CardSquad.

Saturday

My brother has this hawesome remote controlled car that he got from woot last year. Nolan has this equally hawesome remote controlled car that he got from the remote controlled car place last month. I have this cool barbeque and a freezer filled with meat.

Nolan put those things together and planned on a Saturday barbeque and car race, but the weather babe on KCAL kept telling us it was going to rain, so Jeremy and Nolan rescheduled Saturday's festivites for Monday, which was a school and work holiday.

Anne was out for the day with her friend, so the kids and I spent the day in true guys-home-aone fashion: even though it didn't rain, it was freezing cold here (by Los Angeles standards) so we spent most of the day inside watching movies and playing Pirates! on Xbox. I think we reheated some food, but mostly ate chips and salsa. Hawesome.

Late in the afternoon, while I stood in front of the refrigerator and tried to talk myself into preparing dinner (rather than ordering pizza), the kids walked into the kitchen together.

"Hey, Wil," Ryan said, "can we play D&D?"

"Yeah," Nolan said, "you keep saying that we'll play, but we never do."

"Guys," I said, "you know that I haven't had time to put together an adventure."

Their shoulders slumped.

"But!" I said, "I have an idea that may be even more fun than D&D."

I closed the refrigerator door, and went to the phone to order pizza.

"Go to my Big Trunk of Games, and bring out Munchkin."

I ordered a large pepperoni, and met them at the dining room table. Nolan held the box in his hands.

"So this is just like D&D," I said, "without any of the annoying role playing."

I opened the box, and split the cards into treasure and door piles.

"The thing is," I said, "you can't take this game seriously. At all. Even a little bit. The whole point here is to screw with each other and come up with really lame ways to beat each other up."

"I think I'm going to love this," Ryan said.

I walked them through the rules, and we started our first game. I desperately hoped that they'd grok the game, and wondered if they'd get into the spirit of Munchkin.

A few hands into the game, when I was at about level four or five, I used up a few cards to defeat a level 10 Floating Nose.

"Uh, that's an Ancient Floating Nose Ryan said, tossing down a card an pumping it up to level 16. Okay,  Ryan gets it.

I played a most of my remaining cards, and said, "Okay, I defeat the Floating Nose!"

"Yeah, you sure did," Nolan said, "but guess what?" He drew a card from his hand and slammed it down on the table. "It has a mate! Ohhhhh, sorry about that." Okay, Nolan gets it, too.

"Aw, crap!" I said. I looked through my hand, and pulled out a +2 Buckler of Swashing, worth 400. "Okay, I bribe the Floating Nose's mate and make a masterful escape."

"Oh man!" Nolan said. "I'll get you next time!" He made a fist at me and shook it. I couldn't recall the last time I'd had so much fun with the two of them.

During our second game, I asked Ryan to help me defeat a Pukachu, which Nolan had made Humongous.

"What's in it for me?" He said.

"Well, how about I let you take half the treasure, and I give you this +2 Singing and Dancing Sword?"

"Well, I'll ask heem, but ah don't think he'll be very keen," he said, in a bad French accent, "he's already got one, you see!"

I blinked at him. Did he just quote Holy Grail at me?

He snickered into his hand. "I told heem we already got one!"

"You realize there is only one +2 Singing and Dancing Sword in the game, right?"

"I don't want to talk to you no more!" He said. "I blow my nose at you, and fart in your general direction!"

I glanced at Nolan. He looked back at me like we were speaking a foreign language. Which we were.

"What are you talking about?" He said to Ryan.

"Oh my god, Nolan, it's from Monty Python and the Holy Grail. It's the funniest movie ever." He turned to me. "You're on your own there, big guy."

I looked at Nolan. "Little help?"

Nolan just laughed, and  I had to discard my entire hand when I rolled a two.

We played several games, messing with each other, helping each other, double-crossing each other, and scarfing down an entire large pizza. Yes, it was just like D&D, but without all the annoying role playing.

We finished the night on the couch, watching the Super G from Torino in HDTV. We may have played some more Pirates! too, before we all went to our respective beds around midnight.

Sunday

The kids organized a football game with their friends, and I stayed home with my dogs and watched the Olympics. I may have played Pirates! for three hours, too, but the record is unclear on that. I can confirm that I jogged a little bit, wrote a little bit, washed some clothes, and told Anne over and over again how much fun I had with the kids on Saturday night.

"It was more than just playing games and goofing off," I told her, "it was that they could have gone to  a friend's house, or watched TV, or played games without me, but they both came to me to do stuff together. After all these years," I said, "I'm really feeling like they're bonding to me."

Monday

Nolan got up early, and built his race course in the front yard. Jeremy has a street car, and Nolan has an off-road car, so Nolan had spent a lot of time during the week beta testing various designs which he felt would balance Jeremy's speed with his own off-road advantage. The rain on Friday night had compacted down a lot of the soft dirt at the edge of the driveway, so Nolan worked on a quick redesign, which he was certain would be perfect for the two of them when Jeremy arrived.

Sadly, when my brother got here, they discovered that their cars have the same frequency, so they settled on time trials instead. Ryan and I threw a football around in the grass while the two of them raced, and though I love my brother, I have to say that he never stood a chance. Nolan is a master of the remote controlled car, and he pwned Jeremy.

A little past noon, I headed out to the barbeque to grill some cheeseburgers. I'll spare you all the details, but I managed to turn the lovely little sirloin patties into carbonized drink coasters. We ended up driving to this place on Hill called Tops, which is an awesome hamburger joint, in the style of Tommy's or In-N-Out.

We took it back home, and made a real mess of ourselves. And by "we" I mean "me," because the whole point of eating a chilicheeseburger is to wear as much of it as possible.

After Jeremy left around 3:30, Ryan made some really cool songs in Garageband (which I'll probably include in a future episode of Radio Free Burrito) while Nolan watched me play Pirates! a little bit more. I was determined to get the Governor of Maricaibo's Daughter to marry me, which I figured would be a slam-dunk since I was such a great dancer, and captured the damn city for the Dutch in the first place. It turned out that she wanted all these presents, and for me to waste her fiance and for me to rescue her when she was kidnapped. Sheesh! Women! Good thing she was beautiful (and I had to marry her as a Pirate Quest) or I think I may have married the Governor of Trinidad's rather plain daughter, who wasn't so high maintenence.

We goofed off until Anne came home from work, and we all had dinner together. They all sat together and watched House, which I'm not that into, while I went up to my office and caught up on all the e-mails and bloglines subscriptions I'd been ignoring while I had the best weekend ever with my kids.

When it was time for bed, Nolan and I ended up brushing our teeth at the same time. While we stood next to each other in the bathroom, he looked at me in the mirror and said, "I had a really good time this weekend, Wil."

I dumped toothpaste foam all over the place as I said, "I did, too."

Posted by Wil at 11:49 AM | Permalink | Comments (38)

"We are no longer the knights who say 'Ni!' We are now the knights who say 'Ecky-ecky-ecky-ecky-pikang-zoop-boing-goodem-zoo-owli-zhiv'!' We must give you a test."

"What is this test, oh Knights of . . . Knights who until recently said 'Ni!'"

-Monty Python and the Holy Grail.

Night before last, Ryan and I got some take out for dinner, and ended up spending about three hours sitting at our dining room table, talking about all sorts of things. Our relationship grew several levels, and while I'm keeping the details of that to myself, I will do something I rarely do: I'll take some credit for being a good parent. I will also do something I quite often do: I'll marvel at how wise Ryan is. Both of the kids have their pod-people days, of course, but over the last several months, those days are fewer and farther between than ever before, and I'm grateful for that.

Late on Wednesday night, while we cleaned up our dinner dishes, Ryan said, "You know, I've wanted to watch Monty Python for a really long time."

"I have Holy Grail in the living room," I said.

"Do you think I'll like it?" He said.

"Well, I'm not sure. It's a blend of absurdity and dry British humor. It's one of those things that you either grok right away, or just don't respond to."

"Will you watch it with me?" He said.

"Sure," I said, "we'll watch it tomorrow after dinner."

And that's what we did. Anne and Nolan went back into our bedroom to watch TV, and Ryan and I fired up Monty Python and the Holy Grail on our home theater.

I was unsure if he'd like it or not, because his generation has been raised on the comedic stylings of films like Anchorman and televison shows like MAD TV -- not exactly the type of humor you'll find in Flying Circus.

I dimmed the lights, and hit play.

"Why are there subtitles?" He said.

"Just watch."

Around the time "a moose bit my sister once . . . " came up on the screen, he was holding his stomach, convulsing in giggles.

"Ah, good. He gets it." I proudly thought.

He loved all the things I loved when I was his age: the French Taunter, The Black Knight, The Castle Anthrax, and the Killer Rabbit.

"I can see why you liked this so much," he said when it was over. "How many times have you seen this?"

"Between eighty and a hundred, I guess," I said.

"Will you watch it with me again?" he said, "I feel like I missed some funny stuff that I'll catch next time."

"Of course," I said.

"Okay, I'm going to bed now," he said.

He walked back to his room singing, "Brave Sir Robin ran away . . . bravely ran away, away . . ."

He laughed to himself as he closed his bedroom door.

Posted by Wil at 11:06 AM | Permalink | Comments (54) | TrackBacks (1)

I've been fooling around with Intellivision Lives! on Xbox, and it's lead me down one of the most enjoyable rabbit holes I've ever dug on the Internets. The Intellivision Lives homepage has a metric assload of information about "Intelligent television," including catalogues, screenshots, history, programmers, all that cool stuff. I hit up WikiPedia for some extra information on the console itself (I had no idea that Intellivision was 16-bit all the way back in 1980!) and eventually found myself at The Dot Eaters.

Okay, If you're a 1980s gamer geek, you could easily spend an entire day at this website, which is a comprehensive history of video games, beginning in the years that preceeded Pong, and heading all the way up to the Vectrex/ Atari 7800 years. The whole site is wonderfully put together, with old adverts, screen shots, and pictures of consoles, machines and designers. You know what it feels like? If Ken Burns did a documentary on video games, this material would be the companion book. So if you damn kids today want to research your Xbox's family tree, or understand where your PSP came from, go check it out, but only if you have a lot of free time.

Posted by Wil at 9:24 AM | Permalink | Comments (25)

I just read the following over at Iggy's:

Somebody was once asked to define blogs. They refused and said:

I don’t care. There is no need to define “blog.” I doubt there ever was such a call to define “newspaper” or “television” or “radio” or “book” — or, for that matter, “telephone” or “instant messenger.” A blog is merely a tool that lets you do anything from change the world to share your shopping list. People will use it however they wish. And it is way too soon in the invention of uses for this tool to limit it with a set definition. That’s why I resist even calling it a medium; it is a means of sharing information and also of interacting: It’s more about conversation than content… so far. I think it is equally tiresome and useless to argue about whether blogs are journalism, for journalism is not limited by the tool or medium or person used in the act. Blogs are whatever they want to be. Blogs are whatever we make them. Defining “blog” is a fool’s errand.

Iggy agrees, and so do I.

Posted by Wil at 9:11 AM | Permalink | Comments (23) | TrackBacks (1)

 I didn't go to Jeff Tweedy last night. Because of the blizzard in New York, my friend's friends were stuck in town, and I gave up my ticket so one of her friends, who loves Wilco as much as I do and was stranded here for an extra day, could go to the show. (It helps to draw a little picture with arrows connecting friends, so you can see who is who in that paragraph.)

Instead, I had dinner with them before they headed to the show, and came back home, intent on spending the evening with the family.

When I walked in the door, Nolan and the dogs greeted me in the entryway.

"Hey, Wil!" He said before I even had the door closed, "do you have any plans tonight?"

"I'm just hanging out with you guys," I said, as I hung my keys on the designated key hook (you'll find one in every house, you'll see.)

"Cool! Can we play a game?"

"Sure," I said, "figure something out while I check my e-mail."

Nolan ran off to the back of the house, and dug through the big trunk of games. I opened my laptop and did a little TCBing from the dining room table.

He dug through all sorts of games, as simple as Jenga and as complicated as Illuminati. Finally, we settled on Gold Digger, which is a simple but incredibly entertaining game (especially when you call the mine with all the fool's gold in it 'the booty mine,' and you sing a song that goes, "It's booty time, in the booty mine; it's mighty fine in the booty mine!")

So. We played several games of Gold Digger at the dining room table, while Ryan and Anne watched this total trainwreck of a show called Wife Swap.

Oh. My. God. Okay, seriously. How in the hell did that pile of shit get on television? How many great dramatic shows or brilliant comedies were passed over so that monument to completely disfunctional fuckups could pollute the airwaves? When it was about 2/3 of the way through, I asked Anne if she'd ever seen it before. She said that she hadn't, and would never watch it again, but it was like picking at a scab: once she'd started she couldn't stop. Ugh.

Anyway, Nolan and I did our best to tune out the "reality" television that snuck in from the other room like stink from the dump, and we had an absolute blast while we played.

We played three games, and Nolan ended up beating me by one point, thanks to his genius card-counting skills, and a bonehead play by me which set him ahead by four after the second game.

When we were done, he went to get ready for bed, while I cleaned up the cards and put the game away. Alone in the dining room, I thought about how totally awesome it is that my fourteen year-old kid wants to play games with me, and asks me to do things with him all the time. When I was fourteen the last thing in the world I wanted to do was hang out with my totally lame parents, much less play games with them, because they so totally didn't understand me.

I have prided myself, these last ten years, on never trying to be a friend to Ryan and Nolan. I have always taken my responsibilities as a parent very seriously, and I believe that trying to be your kids' friend is one of the fastest ways to screw them up. My thinking goes: they make friends at school, and they need parents at home. But this never meant that I didn't want to play whiffle ball with them, or introduce them to geeky games, or anything like that. I guess it's a parenting philosophy that one either intuitively groks or doesn't, so I won't spend a lot of time trying to explain it. The point is, even though he's fourteen, (and occasionally has serious pod-person days,) he still wants to hang out with me. We make an effort to do things together, and I always feel like it's important and rewarding to us both. It's more than awesome. It is the hawesome. In fact, it is the reason hawesome was invented.

Posted by Wil at 9:43 AM | Permalink | Comments (43) | TrackBacks (2)

John Scalzi has a couple of must-read posts for aspiring writers that I meant to link to over the weekend:

• Writing Tips for Non-Writers Who Don't Want To Work at Writing filters the best of On Writing through Strunk & White, and delivers outstanding advice for anyone who writes, whether it's for fun, for profit, or fot for both.

• The John Scalzi Agent FAQ is exactly what it sounds like.

John takes what could be boring and dry HOWTOs, and makes them interesting and informative. Even if you're not an aspiring writer it's still a fascinating behind-the-binding look at two essential parts of the publishing process.

Posted by Wil at 10:52 AM | Permalink | Comments (9) | TrackBacks (2)

The kids spent the weekend with their dad, so Anne and I got to hang out together the entire weekend. It was hawesome.

During the day on Friday, I played poker and Anne headed to downtown with our friend Stephanie (who introduced us, and was part of the best man triad in my wedding, with Dave and Darin) to enjoy the insane bargains and donut-throwing crack whores that can only be found in the garment district.

Around four in the afternoon, they called and said they were finished, and wanted me to join them for dinner and drinks in Old Town. I successfully lobbied for a change of venue to Dave and Buster's, and we rolled in just after five. Over the next five hours or so, I had . . . a few . . . Newcastles and Guinnessessessssses, and had an absolute blast playing Dayton Racing (the trick is to completely spin around when you miss a turn, and take out a computer car if you can. You may not win the race, but you look so cool doing it! And don't drink and drive, unless it's in a video game. Duh.) and the coin-shooting game with them. (Yeah, check me out: I have 17000 tickets on my D&B card, baby. One of these days, daddy is going to get a Yacht.)

Remarkably, when Saturday morning rolled around, my body gave me just enough of a headache to remind me that I'm 33, not 23, but apparently the fifteen gallons of water I drank between pints did something to ease what could have been a repeat of an incident that is just called The Hangover of '97.

Anyway, we met some friends for lunch on Saturday afternoon, and stayed in on Saturday night, watching Cops (guilty pleasure) and A River Runs Through It on DVD. You know, I am a huge fan of Robert Redford's work, as an actor and as a director, and I'm an equally big fan of Brad Pitt's work, yet somehow I'd managed to never see this movie.

Wow. Quite an incredible bit of filmmaking there, and one of the very few movies I've watched at home that I regretted not seeing on a big screen.

Yesterday, we both woke up at 8 (WTF?) and spent the entire morning pulling weeds in the front yard, and cleaning up leaves from our neighbor's oak tree that her idiot gardener blows into our planters. Can I just say how fucking sick to death I am of cleaning up other people's messes? She pays the damn gardener to clean up her yard (she's 900 years old) and this jerk takes her money, and makes the clean-up my responsibility. Guess who's getting a cockpunch next time he turns on the leaf blower on her driveway?

After we completely filled our yard cans -- all six of them -- with leaves and weeds and junk, we took the dogs for a nice long walk, then did our weekly grocery shopping. This week is going to be filled with insanely good meals, because we spent a lot of time with the Whole Foods Cookbook and Sunset Magazine, planning out some --

Okay. It's just occurred to me that this is an incredibly boring, dry, and uninteresting factual recounting of the last three days. I mean, I'm writing the goddamn thing, and I'm already bored with it. I chalk it up to a bad night of sleep, incredibly sore muscles from working in the yard all morning and the fact that my heart just isn't in this right now. This is the downside of committing to ten minutes a day: sometimes, it just sucks.

I guess the important thing to take out of this, and the reason I even felt like writing about my weekend in the first place, is that even after ten years together, I look forward to, and totally love spending a weekend hanging out with my wife.

Posted by Wil at 9:46 AM | Permalink | Comments (43)

One of my fellow Los Angeles Poker Bloggers, StudioGlyphic (who won the WPBT Winter Classic last December) is looking for some help for one of his friends, whose girlfriend is very sick with cancer, and desperately needs a bone marrow transplant to survive. The odds of finding a donor match are about 1:20,000, but this girl's odds are even longer because she is Fillipino:

Medically, the only option Christine has left is a Bone Marrow Transplant. The survival rate of this procedure is 30-40%. Of those who do survive the procedure itself, only 50% survive the next two years. However, if she does survive those two years, it means the cancer won't come back.

This is a pretty terrible option. However, the non medical option is also horrible. Her doctor says that if she chooses not to have the Bone Marrow Transplant, she'll be dead within a year.

This is hard enough for the average person. There are over 20,000 types of bone marrow, so the average person has a 1 in 20,000 chance of finding a match. These numbers are even worse for Christine. Because she is Filipino, she needs to find a donor of the same ethnic background, and there are hardly any Filipinos on the National Registry.

Because we caught the cancer early, right now is our best chance of having the Bone Marrow Transplant work. Every day we lose her chances of surviving drop.

So please, contact your friends, and ask them to contact their friends. Anyone you know who is Filipino and between the ages of 18 and 61 is a potential donor. The system is nationwide, so it doesn't matter where they live. Signing up on the registry is easy and painless. All it requires is a simple blood test. Some hospitals charge a small fee for this blood test, however if your friends contact me directly, I can put them in touch with one of the hundreds of local organizations that will do the blood test for free. They can use this email address:

[email protected]

You can reassure your friends that signing up for the registry does not require donating any bone marrow. If it turns out they are a match, they will be contacted, and can make the decision at that point about becoming a donor.

There are lots of misconceptions about donating bone marrow. (I know I was terrified of doing it before I learned how minor the procedure actually is.) The procedure is simple and safe. You will be anesthetized the whole time, so you will not feel anything. When the procedure is over, you may have some soreness in the area for a few days and you may feel a little tired. That's it. The bone marrow you donate is replenished within 3-4 weeks. And again, you will only undergo this procedure if your blood sample shows that you are a match and you decide to donate, in which case the slight soreness you'll be feeling will be saving someone's life.

All medical expenses for the donor will be covered by Christine's insurance. And as I mentioned before, if they contact me directly, I can put them in touch with an organization near them that will put them on the National Registry for free and also make sure they are listed as a Sponsor for Christine.

Even if you aren't a match yourself, and even if you can't personally help Christine, please link to this post, and spread the word around. I know there are about a million of you who read this lame blog every month, and if just half of you make some effort to spread the word around, we may be able to help save Christine's life.

Posted by Wil at 3:14 PM | Permalink | Comments (34) | TrackBacks (3)

Unless I crash into something that makes me think, "OMG I HAVE TO BLOG THIS RIGHT NOW KTHXBYELOLORZ," I find that it's much easier for me to write in the very early morning, or very late at night. Sitting down here in the middle of the day is a little weird, and I don't quite know where I'm going to go. (I guess this thought process is not exactly the sort of thing one writes down when attempting to engage an audience, huh?)

Ah! I know where I'll start!

To continue this week's, uh, theme: why am I pushing myself to write for at least ten minutes a day?

Because I've done so much writing lately that isn't really story-telling, those muscles have atrophied quite a bit. Because somedays there just isn't anything obviously worth writing about, and on those days I have to dig a little deeper for something that's at least moderately interesting to me. Because it's easier for me to write when I fell happy than when I feel sad, and blogging every single day has the bonus side effect of making me seek out and focus on happier things. I find that I appreciate things much more, and that I'm more observant of the things around me, because I'm always on the look out for something cool to write about.

A friend of mine who is a hell of a writer once told me that being a writer can make otherwise emotional and sensitive people become detached and distant, because we're so busy observing things, we forget to experience them. After this week, I totally grok that. On the one hand, it's important to always have my senses as open as possible, but at the same time, I can't lose the forest for the trees.

Okay, navel-gazing over.

Last night, my friend Kevin came over to have dinner with us. Kevin and I have been really good friends for over a decade, but as we've grown older and our various commitments have grown larger, we have had less and less time to hang out. In fact, before last night, I hadn't seen Kevin in over three years, which meant I hadn't met his girlfriend (we love her, by the way), who he decided to bring with him at just about the last minute, turning our "let's get together with Kevin" dinner into a "oh my god we're having a new person into the house quick get the vaccuum and I'll clean the bathroom" experience.

It was totally worth it. Not only did we get a nice clean house in forty-five minutes, we had a really great time, and it was quite amusing to watch my two teenaged boys deal with the presense of a very pretty 20-something girl in their house.

After dinner, I played in the WWdN Thursday night game at PokerStars (where I busted out early because I made the mistake of getting my money in as a dominating favorite) while Anne and the kids watched CSI. The kids went to sleep around ten, and Anne stayed to watch Without A Trace, so I grabbed The Dark Tower, which I've been close to finishing for several days now, and settled into the couch to finish it.

You know, one of my strongest criticisms of Stephen King is that he just can't end a story, and the closer I got to the final page of this one, the more knotted my stomach became. I've invested at least fifteen years in this series, and I was really worried that I was going to feel the way I felt when I finished It. I won't get into specifics, because publishing spoilers totally fucking sucks, but I can honestly say that I was not disappointed with the way The Dark Tower finally ended, and I appreciated Stephen King's honesty about it in the afterword very much. It's far from perfect, especially what would be the last two reels if it was a movie, but it was still a satisfying finish for me, and I felt like all the characters I'd grown to care so much about were given the appropriate resolutions.

How's that for muddled?

Speakng of caring about characters, Nolan has been absolutely glued to this book called Catalyst by Laurie Halse Anderson. As a writer, parent, and book-lover, I can tell you that there are few things as wonderful as seeing him turn off the TV and walk away from Xbox so he can read this book. Last night, he came up to me with a pale face, and red eyes and said, in a quivering voice, "My book just got really sad. A boy I cared a lot about died."

He could have been telling me about the loss of a friend. I felt like I should hug him.

"I totally understand," I said, and pointed to my copy of The Dark Tower, "One of my favorite characters in this book died about two hundred pages ago, and I felt like I'd lost a friend."

"It's weird how a book can make you feel that way," he said.

"I think it's really wonderful that you are sensitive and intelligent enough to let a writer affect you like that, Nolan," I said, "that makes me feel really good as a writer and as a parent."

"You should totally read this book, Wil," he said, "and Speak, too. You'd really like them."

"Okay," I said, "your recommendation means a lot to me. I'll put them into my pile."

He ran into his room, and came out with Speak. He handed it to me, and I saw what a beautiful forest I was in. I marveled at every single tree.

Posted by Wil at 2:52 PM | Permalink | Comments (35) | TrackBacks (3)

I run these weekly tourneys at PokerStars, at 5:30 PST on Tuesday and 8:30 PST on Thursday.

These games are filled with a really cool mix of players from hee-haw (me) to HAWESOME (GRob) and everywhere in between (Pauly, CJ, PokerGeek, Heather), but there aren't that many players from the other side of the pond, because the game just starts too damn late for them.

Tomorrow, I've cleared a couple of hours in the middle of my morning, so I can host a game specifically designed to be Eurofriendly. In fact, it's called WWdN: Eurofriendly Friday.

If you're interested in playing, head over to PokerStars, and from the lobby go to tourneys -> private, and look for tourney number 19345283. The buy-in is $10 +1, and the game starts at 1:30 PM EST (5:30 PM GMT) which should make it "friendly" for the bulk of European players.

Posted by Wil at 10:34 PM | Permalink | Comments (16) | TrackBacks (2)

Last week, I spoke with Michael and Evo for their Slice of Sci-Fi podcast. Our interview is around twenty minutes or so, I guess, and is included in Episode #43.

I dig their podcast, and I especially dig how they've built the website for Slice of Sci-Fi. I think I'm going to steal take a lot of inspiration from their design when I make Radio Free Burrito a real, once-a-week, I'm-serious-about-this-after-all podcast.

Posted by Wil at 1:25 PM | Permalink | Comments (4)

This morning, my ten-minutes-a-day thing is kind of a challenge, because there's really nothing to write about. Honestly. Nothing has happened since yesterday that I can make even remotely interesting.

I thought about joking, thusly:

So long, suckers!

I sat down to check e-mail this morning, and discovered that I hit the trifecta: I won a lottery in New Zealand, another one in Nigeria, and got an offer to become the legal guardian for some Irish billionaire who'll give me a whole bunch of money just for showing up.

If anyone needs me, I'll be under a pile of money.

But that's cheap and too easy, and I wasn't really willing to go all the way with it and tell you about how I'm going to have the biggest penis in the universe that's built for maximum loving, daring . . .  so I'll see if I can dig anything else interesting out of my skull.

. . .

. . .

. . .

Nope. Nothing.

OH! I know. I'm quite proud of this week's Games of our Lives, which is a game called Astro Fighter. I wish you'd all go over to the AV Club to read it. Thankyouverymuch.

Yesterday, I spent most of the day writing next week's Games of our Lives, as well as a review of a new game (I probably shouldn't discuss specifics right now) but it was really fun to pick a classic arcade game that dovetailed with the current console game I reviewed.

When I was done with that, I did a short training walk with Anne and the dogs. We're nowhere near running, yet, but it still feels great to get out and walk every single day.

OH! This is cool: Anne, the kids, and I are going to run in the 10th Annual Race For the Cure at the Rosebowl on February 26th. We did it last year, and it was Hawesome. We're not going to do any fundraising for this race, but we will be fundraising for the RnR Marathon later this year. I am planning some REALLY cool fundraising events, and I've even convinced Anne to write in a special blog that we're building just for that.

Of course, if any of you reading this are interested in contributing $5 or $10 for the Race for the Cure, I bet we could raise a few hundred dollars for the Susan G. Komen Breast Cancer Foundation. If you're interested, send me an e-mail or mention it in comments, and we'll figure out a way to take your donation. In fact, now that I think about it, it would be Hawesome (and probably pretty easy) to raise at least $500 in tiny donations, if the stats about people who read my blog are true.

Okay, so this entry isn't entirely lame, and at least I've stayed on target for writing something every morning. That's helping wake up the part of my creative monkey that needs to be jumping around my head to finish the book.

Posted by Wil at 8:58 AM | Permalink | Comments (30)

This morning, my ten-minutes-a-day thing is kind of a challenge, because there's really nothing to write about. Honestly. Nothing has happened since yesterday that I can make even remotely interesting.

I thought about joking, thusly:

So long, suckers!

I sat down to check e-mail this morning, and discovered that I hit the trifecta: I won a lottery in New Zealand, another one in Nigeria, and got an offer to become the legal guardian for some Irish billionaire who'll give me a whole bunch of money just for showing up.

If anyone needs me, I'll be under a pile of money.

But that's cheap and too easy, and I wasn't really willing to go all the way with it and tell you about how I'm going to have the biggest penis in the universe that's built for maximum loving, daring . . .  so I'll see if I can dig anything else interesting out of my skull.

. . .

. . .

. . .

Nope. Nothing.

OH! I know. I'm quite proud of this week's Games of our Lives, which is a game called Astro Fighter. I wish you'd all go over to the AV Club to read it. Thankyouverymuch.

Yesterday, I spent most of the day writing next week's Games of our Lives, as well as a review of a new game (I probably shouldn't discuss specifics right now) but it was really fun to pick a classic arcade game that dovetailed with the current console game I reviewed.

When I was done with that, I did a short training walk with Anne and the dogs. We're nowhere near running, yet, but it still feels great to get out and walk every single day.

OH! This is cool: Anne, the kids, and I are going to run in the 10th Annual Race For the Cure at the Rosebowl on February 26th. We did it last year, and it was Hawesome. We're not going to do any fundraising for this race, but we will be fundraising for the RnR Marathon later this year. I am planning some REALLY cool fundraising events, and I've even convinced Anne to write in a special blog that we're building just for that.

Of course, if any of you reading this are interested in contributing $5 or $10 for the Race for the Cure, I bet we could raise a few hundred dollars for the Susan G. Komen Breast Cancer Foundation. If you're interested, send me an e-mail or mention it in comments, and we'll figure out a way to take your donation. In fact, now that I think about it, it would be Hawesome (and probably pretty easy) to raise at least $500 in tiny donations, if the stats about people who read my blog are true.

Okay, so this entry isn't entirely lame, and at least I've stayed on target for writing something every morning. That's helping wake up the part of my creative monkey that needs to be jumping around my head to finish the book.

Posted by Wil at 8:58 AM | Permalink | Comments (30)

E-mail from a WWdN:iX reader:

Wil,

I wanted to touch base with you about your books "Just A Geek" and "Dancing Barefoot"

Who knew they would be so hard to find? Granted I don't live in the biggest town I still thought Barnes & Noble or Books-A-Million would have them in stock.

Turns out they both file your works under "Star Trek", oops. I guess they haven't read your blog.

Barnes & Noble won't even stock it, because "Star Trek bios don't sell," according to one of their buyers.

Sigh.

Posted by Wil at 7:26 PM | Permalink | Comments (49)

A late afternoon mug of Yerba Mate tea, and the sugar from a glass (okay, two glasses) of chianti with dinner resulted in my favorite middle of the night activity: the 2:30 AM wide-awake-racing-brain.

I sat up in bed, reached over to my nightstand, and picked up my glass of water. In the soft glow of my alarm clock, I saw my kitty, Biko, stir in the laundry basket of clothes I've been meaning to put away for three days.

I gulped down about half the glass, and when I lay back down into bed, Biko jumped up, walked across the comforter, and snuggled into my chest, purring so loudly it was like a little massage on my mighty pectoral muscles.

I rubbed his little face for a few minutes, and tried to convince my brain to stop singing Sade and reciting Lewis Black jokes so I could fall back asleep. In that weird fuge state that often comes in the middle of the night, I'm not sure when I drifted back to sleep, but I woke again at 4:25 AM, my brain blasting "Slave Song," joined now by my stomach which really wanted to get rid of the sweet Italian sausage I had with dinner.

I sat back up, drained the remaining half of my water, and lay down onto my back. I let my brain sing at me while I tried to convince my stomach that it should do a lot of digesting, instead of throwing up.

"Throwing up is exactly what they'd expect," I reasoned, "if you throw up, they win."

I have no idea who "they" were, but it was the middle of the night, so it made perfect sense to me.

While my stomach formulated a response, which was something like, "Blarrghhh . . . . squarrrrrllooogeee . . .  fweeeennnn . . ." Biko jumped back up onto the bed, and walked back over to me. He was still purring, but this time he snuggled down into the comforter next to my shoulder, and pressed his little face against my cheek, just like his brother Sketch used to do.

I turned my attention away from my bitchy stomach, tuned out my singing brain, and focused on Biko's little purrbox. I drifted quickly back to sleep, and woke up to Riley sniffing at my face, while Ferris sat at the foot of my bed, head cocked to one side while she waited for me to get out of bed.

My brain was silent, and though I had a little bit of a red wine headache, my stomach just felt hungry. I reached out and scratched Riley's little monster face. Ferris thumped her tail against my dresser as I got out of bed and pulled on my robe. Biko was back in the laundry basket, happily sleeping on his back, as I walked out to the kitchen.

"Is there coffee?" I asked Anne. "I'm dead 'til I gets me coffee."

Posted by Wil at 11:49 AM | Permalink | Comments (17)

After dinner tonight, Nolan ran off to IM one of his friends, and left Anne, Ryan, and me in the dining room.

"Dude, you totally need to get me a shirt like that," Ryan said. He pointed to my "Choose your weapon" shirt from Jinx, that features six polyhedral dice.

"Like this?" I said. "What qualifies you for a shirt like this?"

"Dude!" He said, "I totally have a bag filled with those dice in my bedroom!"

"And you use them to actually play . . . when?"

"Well, I'd use them all the time, but someone never made a campaign for me!"

A little bit of me died inside.

"So, you see, I'm still qualified." He leaned back in his chair, and took a long, satisfied drink from his water glass.

"Dude, I've been playing D&D longer than you've been . . . well . . . anything." I said. "I think I'm a better judge of who is qualified and who is not."

We were playing nerd chicken and I could sense Ryan searching for his next play.

"Besides," I said, "It's nerdtopia in there -- " I pointed toward my office, "so if you really wanted to 'choose your weapon,' you could easily take care of business."

Now, here's the thing: I can't remember what Ryan said next, but it was a great burn. It was an awesome, classic, soundtrack-stopping burn.

I came back the only way I could: empty parental threats.

"I am such a huge geek," I said. "I will embarrass you so hardcore, you won't know what hit you." I snorted, for effect.

"Oh yeah? What are you going to do to embarrass me?" He said.

"Anne," I said, "You should sleep in tomorrow. I'll take the kids to school, and I'll pick them up, too."

"Mom!" Nolan called from the living room, "I think I'm going to ride my bike to school tomorrow, okay?"

Ryan gulped. I went to the kitchen. As soon as I was around the corner, and he couldn't see me, I smiled to myself. From the dining room, I head Ryan chuckle.

This is how we live. This is why I do, well, everything.

Posted by Wil at 10:08 PM | Permalink | Comments (27)

I'm hellabusy this morning, so ten minutes is a limit for me today, rather than a goal.

I enjoyed the Superbowl this year, even if it was one of the worst halftime shows in history, and all but two of the commercials completely sucked. (The ones that I liked were the spinning refrigerator in the wall, which absolutely killed me, and the streaking sheep, which I found  moderately amusing. I can sum up the rest of the commecrials thusly: I wanted to pack an Escalade with Diet Pepsi, and crash it into Burger King.)

As far as the game goes, I thought there were some questionable calls, one terrible call, and a weird implosion by Seattle in the 4th. (I told Ryan that the holding penalty that took away what would have been 1st and goal was the turning point for them.) I didn't really have a team in the game, though, and just wanted to be entertained by some good football, so I was mostly happy, especially because I got to watch the game with the kids. This was the first year in my thirty-three on the planet that I've regularly watched, and cared about football. I blame it entirely on HDTV, which for some reason made a game I used to find tedious and stupid exciting and compelling.

Yesterday, Anne and I did our first official training walk for the marathon: four miles. Today, we'll do another four, and we should start jogging in ten days or so. I'm really excited for the marathon this year, and we'll have our own special TK421 fundraising/training/happyfuntimes blog up real soon.

Last night, it was unseasonably warm, and we were able to put a fire in the outdoor fireplace Anne and the kids got me for Festivus, put some teriyaki chicken on the barbeque, and enjoy how cool it was that we could stand out on our patio in short-sleeves and eat dinner in February.

I'm really happy that so many of you enjoyed my post about Disneyland, and shared some of your own Disney experiences with me via e-mail or comments. It was one of those things, like writing Dancing Barefoot, where I got to relive the experience of being there as I recreated it, and that is my absolute favorite kind of work.

And speaking of work, I gotta go.

Posted by Wil at 10:23 AM | Permalink | Comments (29) | TrackBacks (1)

As many of you know, I love my Chuck Taylors. They're comfy, simple, and allow me to maintain just a little bit of my former punk rock attitude as I take meetings with my kids' teachers.

Recently, though, I've developed a bit of a conflict about my Chucks, seeing as how they are no longer made in the USA, and are, in fact, outsourced to one of the beautiful Nike sweatshops happy factories that are such an important part of the Chinese economy (especially among 10 year olds young go-getters.)

I just now came across a company which sells shoes that look almost exactly like Chuck Taylors, but are made by union workers in completely non-sweatshop conditions. And the best part? They cost just about the same as Chucks.

The company is called No Sweat Apparel. They sell their low tops for $40  and their high tops for $42. Shipping to Los Angeles cost me $6, so when all is said and done, I figure that I'm spending about $3 more than if I went to Shoe City or something, but I have the convenience of shopping in my underpants while drinking a Stone Pale Ale, easy shipping to my office, and the warm, fuzzy, happytown knowledge that no people were exploited in the production of my future footwear.

For the cynical among you: I'm not getting anything from No Sweat. I just think this is a really cool company, doing a really cool thing, and  any group of people who are supporting the concept of Trade, Not Aid are doing good stuff, as far as I am concerned. There's a bunch of news stories about the company at their website, and you can learn more about truly fair trade (not the bullshit Republican kind) at Wikipedia.

My nifty new shoes should arrive in a few weeks. I'll follow up and let you all know if they're as swell as I hope they are.

(discovered via boingboing.)

Posted by Wil at 9:14 PM | Permalink | Comments (34) | TrackBacks (2)

One of Anne's clients, who works for Disney, hooked us up with passes to Disneyland, so we took the kids on Saturday. Holy shit - did you know that it costs over $80 for an adult ticket now? That's insane.

So we started out in California Adventure: Tower of Terror (awesome), California Screamin' (awesome, but made me sick this time) and Soarin' over California (probably my favorite ride in DCA). We then made our way across the entry plaza to Disneyland.

"Where do you guys want to go first?" Anne said.

"Space Mountain!" Ryan said.

"Yeah! Space Mountain!" Nolan said.

"Back to the tortilla factory in DCA!" I said.

Believe it or not, there were actually crickets chirping near the turnstiles. Weird.

Disneyland wasn't crowded at all, even though it was a Saturday, and we quickly made it over to Tomorrowland, where we discovered that, even at 11 in the morning, there was already a 90 minute wait for Space Mountain. We picked up Fast Passes, and decided to head over to Indiana Jones.

You know what would be so cool? If Disney redesigned Tomorrowland to look and feel very similar to the way it did in 1955. Bring back the people movers, and move the rockets back up to the top of the people mover loading platform. Get rid of that stupid Innoventions atrocity, and put Inner Space back in its place. The idea is that our world is dangerous and uncertain, and looks to stay that way for a long time, so why not give people a place where they can enjoy the safety of 1950s nostalgia, and a "future" world that's ultra modern? I bet it'd be a big success.

On the way to Indiana Jones, Ryan suggested that we go to Haunted Mansion, then Pirates, the Indiana Jones, so we could work our way back through what little crowd there was.

"The thing is," I said, "Pirates is closed for four months."

"Why?" Anne said.

"Because they have to totally screw it up, and make it tie in with the movies."

Anne gasped a little bit, as we passed the Tiki Room.

"Yeah," I said, "I read about it at blogging.la and Miceage. They're replacing the big old pirate ship with the Black Pearl, and they're putting animatronics of actors from the movie into the ride. They closed it down yesterday."

We rounded the corner into the heart of Adventureland. 

"That's sad," Anne said, "but there are a lot of people who will see the movie before they've ever been on the ride, so maybe that makes sense to Disney."

"But the ride has been fine for over thirty years," I said, "even if they made those stupid PC changes in the 90s. I don't know if the movies have that sort of trans-generational appeal."

We walked into a huge crowd of people around Indiana Jones.

"Did you just say 'trans-generational appeal?" She said.

Before I could answer, I saw something I didn't expect: a huge line of people, going into Pirates of the Caribbean!

I squealed, hopped, and pointed.

"Look! Pirates! Open! Wheee!"

I grabbed Anne's hand, and pulled her with me, as I ran like a five year-old to the line. The kids kept up, and didn't seem to be embarrassed when I did a little "ohmygodthepiratesarestillopen" dance in line.

"Oh my god," I said, "this is so cool! I am so happy that I get to ride this one last time before they change it!"

"Yeah, that's pretty awesome," Nolan said. I looked at him to make sure he wasn't being sarcastic. He was sincere.

The line moved quickly, and twenty minutes later, we were at Laffite's Landing, boarding our little boat, right behind the guy who figured his infant child would have a really good time in the dark, with the loud noises.

Yeah. After the first drop, the kid screamed and cried. When its dad tried to comfort it, he actually ended up pointing the kid over his shoulder at me and Nolan, so the kid ended up screaming in our faces. Awesome.

Anne and the kids all looked at me. I just shook my head and sighed. I did my best to tune out the crying, which stopped for a few brief moments near the bridal auction scene but really picked up again when we passed the jail scene.

When the ride was over, Nolan said to me, "Why do people bring little babies places where they are just going to cry?"

"I have no idea," I said.

"Even I know that the loud noises and sudden movements would freak a baby out," he said.

"Yeah. I guess that guy really wanted to go on Pirates."

We headed out into New Orleans Square, and turned to go to the Haunted Mansion . . . which was closed.

"Aw, crap." Ryan said. "The Haunted Mansion is closed."

"They must be taking down Nightmare Before Christmas," Anne said.

"Okay, we're going to Indiana Jones!" I said.

We did, and it was awesome. Then we went over to Frontierland so the kids could play at the shooting gallery, and then to Fantasyland to ride Mr. Toad. That line moved crazy fast, like less than ten minutes, and before we knew it, we were at the front of the line.

Nolan rode with Anne, and Ryan went with me. "Do you want to drive?" He said.

"No," I said, "you have your permit now, so let's see how you do."

He laughed and sat down into the car, named "Mac Badger."

The ride operator lowered the safety bar, and we launched out of toad hall, crashing through the library, exploding out of the fireplace, and speeding out into the countryside.

Ryan spun the wheel, while I shouted out, "Look out for the cop!" and "Left! Left! Left!" and "don't drive off the end of the dock!"

We were seriously cracking each other up, and as we burst through the exploding TNT room, I took a mental snapshot of the moment: here we are, on our way to nowhere in particular, laughing like crazy, and enjoying the simple joy that comes with being together.

That's when the ride broke down.

Suddenly, flourescent lights came on, and the magical world of Mister Toad evaporated. From somewhere else in the ride, I heard a voice cry out, "booooo!"

"What?" Ryan said.

"Please stay in your vehicle," a voice said over a loud speaker. "You will be escorted out of the ride shortly."

"Clearly, you broke the ride with your terrible driving," I said.

"I did not!"

"You did so."

I held up my hand and extended one finger. "You knocked the guy off the ladder."

I held up another finger. "You crashed through the fireplace."

Another finger. "You almost hit the bobby."

A fourth finger. "Then there was that whole thing with the bridge," a fifth finger, "and the dock."

Ryan's face broke into a huge smile as I held up my other hand.

"Then there was the warehouse, and the exploding TNT. That's seven --" I showed him my fingers, "seven brushes with death. Obviously, they had to stop the ride before you crashed the car."

"Yeah, and ended up hitting a train and going to Hell," he said.

We cracked up together, and waited until we were walked out of the ride a few minutes later, picking up Anne and Nolan on the way out.

"Did you break the ride?" Anne said.

"I think it was for my own good, mom," Ryan said.

After Mister Toad, we picked up our jackets from our locker (where I gave my locker combo ticket thingy to a guy with two little kids who couldn't find an open locker, because we didn't need it any more. I like to do things like that, because helping people is awesome, and it increases the kindness in the world by +1) and headed over to the Matterhorn.

"I'm going to sit down and have a time out," I said. "So you guys go on the ride, while I sit here and recharge."

"Okay," Anne said. It was a nice twenty minutes or so for me to just sit down and reflect on how much fun we were all having, and how great it felt to spend the day together. I spent a lot of time at Disneyland when I was in my teens, because my best friend and I had annual passes. Consequently, Disneyland is more than just the happiest place on earth to me: it's a real touchstone to some of the happiest days of my life, and it was so wonderful to sit there, recall those carefree days of my youth, and feel good about where I am now, sharing this joyful place and all its associated memories with my family.

After Anne and the kids came off the ride, we headed over to Space Mountain, which we'd been looking forward to riding all day. Anne always gets sick on it, so she sat down for a time out of her own while the kids and I walked up to the entrance, and discovered that Space Mountain was broken down.

We patiently waited for about twenty-five minutes, before the ride was back online, and the line started to move again. Thanks to our fast passes, we were inside the ride in less than five minutes.

I hadn't been on Space Mountain since they refurbished it, and it's amazing. First of all, Disney got rid of all that stupid Federal Express advertising bullshit that was everywhere, and made it more of a retro space adventure again. The track has been rebuilt, and the ride is smoother than ever. The projections are beautiful, and the starfield effects, which had really lost their luster over the years, looked as magical as I remembered them being when I was a little kid and rode Space Mountain for the first time.

We met up with Anne after the ride, and told her how much fun it was.

"Mom, you totally should have gone on it!" Nolan said. He then proceeded to describe every minute detail of the entire thing.

"Man, now I wish I'd gone on it," Anne said. "Oh well, next time."

It was about 7PM, I guess, and as we walked out across Tomorrowland, all four of us hit "the wall."

"Hey, guys?" Ryan said, "I'm kind of tired."

"I was just going to say the same thing!" Nolan said.

"Yeah, me too," I said. "My feet and legs are killing me."

"Are we done?" Anne said.

We all looked at each other. Yeah, we were done.

"I think so," I said. "I know we all wanted to see the fireworks, but I know that I'm going to be really gumpy in two hours."

"Yeah, I have maximized my funtime," Nolan said.

And just like that, we headed for the exit.

At the hub, right in front of the castle, Anne said to me, "Hey, did you want to try for the Jungle Cruise?"

The Jungle Cruise is one of my favorite rides, ever, especially when the skipper has his or her pun-o-meter spiked up at 11. I'm not ashamed to admit that. In fact, I'm proud of it.

I looked at the kids. "What do you guys think?"

"Sure, let's see what the line looks like," Ryan said.

"Yeah, if it's too long, we'll blow it off," Nolan said.

"w00t." I said.

We walked over to the Jungle Cruise, and saw that the wait was, in fact, over thirty minutes. I like the Jungle Cruise, but I don't like it that much.

"I like the Jungle Cruise," I said, "but not that much."

As quickly as we walked into Adventureland, we walked out. When we passed the Tiki Room, I said, "Hey! Let's go into the Tiki Room!"

"Yeah! The birds sing words and the flowers croon!" Nolan said.

"How did you know that?" I said.

"I don't know," he said. "I just do."

"Isn't it lame?" Ryan said.

"No, Ryan," Nolan said, "it's so cool."

"I've never been in the Tiki Room," Anne said, and that sealed it. We walked through the turnstile just as the doors opened to seat a new show.

Okay, I don't think I've been in the Tiki Room in at least fifteen years, so I'd forgotten most of it . . . but it's just awesome. We all loved the show, especially the singing tiki guys.

On our way up Main Street, Anne said, "I love it that we went into the Tiki Room, because I'd never been in it before. It was so cool to experience something new at Disneyland, after all these years."

By the time we made it back to the car, we were all exhausted. The kids were both asleep by the time we got to the freeway, even though it wasn't even 8PM. It was an incredibly fun day, and it wasn't until I wrote this all down that I realized how many of the rides broke down. It's cool to me that we had such a great time there, we didn't even notice.

There's one thing I forgot to mention: While we were standing in line for the parking lot tram, Nolan looked up at me, held one hand up in the air dramaticaly, and sang, William Fucking Shatner-style, "It's! A! World . . . oflaughter! It's! A! worldof . . . cheer! It's! A! World! Of! . . . hopeand . . . a world! ofFEAR!"

He went on to sing the entire song, complete with very emotional facial contortions and dramatic pauses. By the time the tram arrived, I was laughing so hard, my sides hurt and tears rolled down my face. It was so funny, and so unexpeected, I forget to ask him where he picked it up.

Though I suspect he may have answered, "From you, okay?! I learned it by watching you!"

Posted by Wil at 10:26 AM | Permalink | Comments (62) | TrackBacks (3)

I didn't get in my ten rambling minutes this morning, so how about now?

I had the weirdest dream last night: I was sitting in a cardboard box, and by sheer force of will, I was able to make it race along the streets in my neighborhood.

I sped down my block, around the corner, and down three streets to The One With A Hill On It, where I saw my friend sitting on someone's porch, with three other people (random dream extras from central casting, no doubt.) I waved at him, he waved back at me, and my box sped away. The next thing I knew, I was in Huntington Beach, and the box wouldn't move any more. Then I woke up.

A different friend (I guess I should just fudge here, and say it was the same friend, but I've already typed all this out so I'll leave it as is) of mine can be described thusly: if we're having a party, and we invite him, more often than not he'll tell us that he can't make it. If we ask him to help us move, or paint, or install sod in the yard, or whatever, he'll drop whatever he's doing and be at the door before we hang up the phone. If you have a friend like that, you're lucky as hell. If you are a friend like that, you rule.

It was sunny, and in the mid-80s here today, a perfect day for getting the hell out of the house. I wrote all morning, then took a huge walk around my neighborhood, where I saw that a lot of my neighbors had the same idea as me. I came home, and with about 90 minutes to spend however I wanted before I got the kids from school, I watched Wes Anderson's Bottle Rocket. Man, I really liked this movie, more than Royal Tenenbaums, almost as much as Rushmore. Owen Wilson is a better actor and writer than he gets credit for.

The 90s were a great decade for indie movies, weren't they? Films like Bottle Rocket and Rushmore, plus Swingers, Pulp Fiction, Dazed and Confused, Party Girl, Office Space, The Day Trippers . . . I'm sure there are more, but these are a few that I can pick right off the top of my head. I remember that we used to joke that there were two kinds of films in the mid-90s: those with Erick Stoltz, and those without. (It was much funnier then, especially among movie geeks, as was its Parker Posey variant.) It was easy to feel inspired back then, because for every Godzilla, there were five Killing Zoes.

Posted by Wil at 3:09 PM | Permalink | Comments (17) | TrackBacks (2)

I'm doing three hours tonight on my friend David Lawrence's show, which is conveniently titled The David Lawrence Show. You can tune in on Sirius and XM, or stream online. Links and instructions are at David's site. The show starts at 7PM PST, and I'd love to take phone calls, instant messages, or e-mails from WWdN and WWdN:iX readers.

Posted by Wil at 2:46 PM | Permalink | Comments (6)

Earlier this week, I wrote on CardSquad that other than my Tuesday and Thursday games at PokerStars, I'm taking a serious break from playing poker. I have been running so bad lately, and I've been so consistently unlucky, it's just not fun. So while I'll continue to write about it, and I'll continue to enjoy watching it on TV, my own play will be limited for the near future.

This pays off, I promise. So don't think this is another one of those poker stories and skip over it, okay?

I also have to take a break, because losing in poker games has struck a very raw and very exposed emotional nerve with me: I've felt like a complete and total loser the last few weeks, and not just because I'm not winning at cards. In real life, I've been withdrawn and depressed, even (especially) around my wife and kids. So yesterday, when I walked to the bookstore, I was honest with myself about why I feel so lousy: I am still hurt, and angry, and disappointed with the way O'Reilly completely fucked up Just A Geek. More than that, I'm hurt, and angry, and disappointed at the way I was treated, as a person and as an author. It's completely out of my hands, now, and I've learned an awful lot from the experience about the vast gulf between what people say and what people do, and the importance of getting things in writing, but it still makes me want to alternately break things and cry when I think about the totally wasted opportunity, and how mislead I was during the whole thing.

I worked hard on Just A Geek, and I put my faith and trust into other people to help me share it with the world. At the end of the day, I just feel like I worked real hard so I could get a miniscule cut of the profits, and my work wasn't even shared with anyone I couldn't have reached on my own. The fact that they insisted on promoting it as a Star Trek book, which I correctly warned them would severely limit its audience and appeal, after I was promised that they wouldn't, just adds to the feeling of betrayal and disappointment. It's very hard for me to even look at the book on my bookshelf and feel good about it, and I hate that. I know that there's nothing to be gained from wallowing about it, but it's there. I guess I just have to accept that I was mislead and taken advantage of, and never let that happen again. Taking control of future publishing is easy -- I already proved that with Dancing Barefoot. But getting over that sense of betrayal anddisappointment . . . well, it's not as easy. But at least I've honestly identified it, and maybe I'll be able to move on from it now. I feel like a loser because I wanted so badly to believe everything they said, that I ignored my instincts when my instincts told me it was too good to be true.

In Radio Free Burrito Episode Zero, I talked about an audition I had for a sitcom, where I totally nailed it. I left feeling better than I've ever felt about an audition in my life, and I knew that I was, as they say, "The Guy." The casting people, producers, writers, and everyone else felt the same way, and I was one callback away from booking an awesome job, on a hilarious show, with all the freedom, success, and opportunity being on the next Friends would bring.

The callback happened while I was out of the country for the poker tournament in the Bahamas, and there was no way at all to make the schedules work out. I told myself that if I was meant to get the job, they'd find a way to reschedule, but that was incredibly unlikely since it would be over ten days until I'd be back. Of course, they couldn't reschedule, and I lost the job. Actors spend their entire careers trying to get an opportunity like that one, and when I finally got it, I lost it. I feel like a complete loser because I don't know when another opportunity like it will come along, or if I'll ever have another chance like that in my career, where I pretty much just have to show up to get the gig.

I understand that by any rational metric, I have a fucking great life, and I'm not going to pretend that I don't, or be ungrateful for the things I have. But the fact is, I've felt frustrated, tired, and depressed for weeks.

So what? What am I going to do? Sit in the corner and feel sorry for myself? That's not going to do anyone any good. Go on a raging bender, crash my car, pick up some tabloid press and get my own reality TV program? That is so 2002.

Aware of the reasons I have felt unhappy, I decided to spend some time thinking about what makes me happy. What makes me feel good about myself? What do I look forward to, everyday? It should come as no surprise to anyone (myself included) that the answer is my family. The very people I've been so withdrawn from while I've felt like shit about myself for things that are totally out of my control. It's put me on this downward spiral of idiotic self-loathing and self-pity, where I've asked myself on an almost-daily basis, "Why am I doing any of this? What's the point in even trying?"

"Well, stupid, the answer is right in front of you. You work hard to support your family because you love them. You try hard to write good stuff and get acting jobs because you're an artist and nobody ever said that any of this would be easy. In fact, if it was easy, it wouldn't be worth doing. You can't change any of these things that have already happened, and you'll never be able to control how many acting opportunities you get. But you can control how much time you spend with your family. You can choose to make an effort to play games with the kids, take walks with Anne, and be present and involved in their lives. Or you can be a whiny little bitch and boo-hoo-hoo your way into misery. But take responsibility for your choice, whatever it is, especially since you're now aware of why you feel shitty, and how to not feel shitty any more. No excuses, Wil."

No excuses. I take responsibility for my choices, and I accept that there are things I just can't change that are beyond my control. I also resolve to embrace the things that are within my control, and not take my family for granted. If I'm completely honest with myself, the brutal truth is: I feel like a loser because I haven't been there for my family. That has to change.

Yeah, it was a pretty good walk. Two big things, both essentially opportunities that missed after I'd worked so very hard to get there. And poker? I play tournament-style poker, which means that most of the time, I'm going to work very hard to get there, miss the money, and have nothing to show for my efforts. When I made that connection, I understood why I was getting so irrationally angry when I took a bad beat, or finished in 19th when 18 places paid. But my family is entirely different. I don't have to work very hard to get there, because there is here. Somehow, I'd lost that forest because of the trees.

So last night, I grabbed the Whole Foods Cookbook -- which I can't endorse strongly enough -- and made dinner for all of us: borracho beans, cilantro and lime rice, plus grilled tequila-marinated chicken breasts. It reminded me of how much fun it was when I made The Chicken Soup last year. My family sat together at the dinner table and I knew why I am doing any of this. I understood the  point in even trying.

When dinner was done, I had about 90 minutes until my Thursday night poker tournament began, so Nolan and I played Dungeon. We played three games, and we realized that there is a tiny bit of unbalance in a two player game: If you play the Wizard, and take two teleport spells, you can poof down to level 5 right away, cast your other spells into rooms without risking death if you miss, and collect treasure fairly safely if you hit. When you run out of spells, you just poof back to the main staircase, reload, and head back to level 5 or 6. Since the Wizard needs 30,000 to win, you can get it in eight or nine turns at the lower levels, and easily win against the Paladin or Warrior. Interestingly, though, if a Wizard is playing against a Dwarf, it's a much closer race, since the Dwarf only needs 5,000 to win and can pull that off without ever going deeper than level three.

We played three games to test these hypotheses out. During the second game, Ferris grabbed one of the Dwarf figures out of the box and chomped on it before we could do stop her, so I played the last game as two little feet. When Nolan won, I said, "In my defense, getting 7,000 when you're just a pair of shoes is pretty good."

"Yeah," he said, "You have mad kicking skills."

After we were done, I sat down to play my poker tournament. It was really fun to play with my friends from the WPBT, especially when my friend Chris was moved to my table a few hands into the tourney. Chris is a well-known aggressive player, and I knew that he'd be picking on my blinds whenever he got the chance.

The third hand after Chris came to my table: I am dealt pocket aces in the big blind. I am confident that I can goad Chris into making a play at stealing my blind, so I type, "I dare you to raise." Of course he does, and I re-raise him. I hope he thinks I'm just trying to steal from him, and I'm thrilled when he pushes all his chips in. I insta-call, and he turns over two queens.

The flop comes K-T-x, and I type, "oh crap, you just picked up some outs."

The turn is a queen, and my only hope is an ace on the river. Instead, another queen comes out, and I lose to quads. I think I was the second or third player to go out.

"It's Groundhog day . . . again." I thought. "I was only an 82% favorite on the flop. Of course I lost."

If I hadn't taken that walk yesterday, if I hadn't spent the entire evening with my family, goofing off with Ryan while I prepared dinner, playing nerdy games with Nolan after, enjoying and appreciating the love that fills my house, I probably would have gone head first out the office window. Instead, I cussed like crazy in irc, sent Chris an e-mail that said, "nice hand, fucker. now go win this thing," closed the office door behind me, and watched CSI with my family.

"I thought you were playing poker," Nolan said, when I sat down next to him on the couch.

"I was." I said.

"Did you get knocked out already?"

"Yeah."

"How?"

"It's not important," I said. Then, "this is important."

"Huh? CSI?"

"This. Us. Family. Together." I pointed around the living room.

"Uh . . . okay, Wil." He said in the "my stepdad is nuts" voice.

"What I mean is," I said, "I love you."

"I . . . love you too, Wil." He said, in the "it's real good that you did that, now please don't wish me into the cornfield" voice.

I smiled at him.

"You're kind of creeping me out," he said with a smile of his own. "No offense."

"None taken," I said. "I understand."

Yeah. I understand.

Posted by Wil at 10:04 AM | Permalink | Comments (47)

When my friend Pauly isn't covering poker tournaments on Tao of Poker, he tries to spend ten minutes each day writing in his other blog, Tao of Pauly. He says, "I'm trying to do that ten minute exercise where I just ramble on incessantly for ten minutes in order to keep up my blog and not feel like I'm ignoring my first and original blog." I think it's a good idea, and though I enjoy writing for CardSquad, and I'm getting pretty good at editing the technology newswire at Suicide Girls, it's been coming at the expense of writing just for me, in my lame blog. It's also taken time and energy away from finishing my book, (or given me an excuse to avoid it, depending on how I'm feeling on a particular day) and that's just not cool.

So I'm going to try Pauly's ten minute blast this morning, and do some "because it's fun" writing before I settle into some "pay the bills" writing.

And . . . go:

That NES thing I talked about yesterday, which I got at the mall? It's called Power Player with Super Joystick and Gun. I'm pretty sure it was made by six year-old kids in the sub-sweatshop of a sweatshop in China. I probably shouldn't have bought it, but like BB Gun Mania, Classic NES Mania can make a man do strange things.

I don't write about the kids here very often, because they're old enough to read my blog, and possibly be embarrassed by thier lame stepdad talking about how proud he is of them for working their asses off to ace most of their finals. I don't write about how happy it makes me that they have recently made me feel truly accepted and appreciated for the first time in our lives together, like I matter to them, because I know they or some of their friends may stumble across this, and they'll feel weird. I haven't written about how much fun it's been to play Talisman and Dungeon with them a few times a week, and how happy I am that we all have made the time to hang out together, even if it's just turning off the TV, turning on the radio, and sitting on the couch together while we read our books. (I'm almost finished with The Dark Tower, and Nolan is deeply involved with a book called Catalyst, written by the author of this book I got him for Christmas called Speak.) I also haven't written about how happy it made me when Nolan came into my office the other day, and said, "I just wanted you to know that I've loved every book you've recommended to me, and I wanted to say thank you." Until last summer, Nolan hated to read, and I'd like to think that I had something to do with changing that.

But I also like to write about the things in my life which I feel good about, and those things which bring me joy. Though that list is currently rather short, Ryan and Nolan are right at the top of, and occupying most of it. Sorry if I embarrassed you, guys. But as long as I'm at it, I may as well go all-out: I love you, pookers.

Woah! Firefox just told me that it's ready to auto-update itself to 1.5.0.1. That's pretty cool. And it reminds me that Google Earth is out for OS X. I really like Google Earth, but should I worry about any privacy issues? I mean things like personal tracking info, like the damn google cookie that I have ao anonymize every morning. I can't find anything online that says I should, but the company that seems to be so concerned about "do no evil" has been pretty goddamn close to evil lately.

If you missed the tilt-shift photography thing at boingboing last week, go look at it right now. I am confident that anyone who reads WWdN regularly will love these images as much as I do. In fact, if you don't, I'll refund your WWdN entry fee for the entire month of February.

I woke up this morning, checked my e-mail, and was thrilled to discover that for the first time in weeks, comments on my last few entries out-numbered the spam that made it through Thunderbird's junk mail filter. Honesty time: I write this stuff because it satisfies some sort of creative need, but it's reassuring to know that my time isn't wasted, and that this stuff connects with some of you in some way. When there's more offers for \/!.agr@ and c1a1i5 clogging my inbox than anything else, it gets me down a little bit. And I've been feeling a little down, lately, and I've longed for that feeling of community and interaction from the old days.

Okay, time's up. While it's nice to actually sit down and write for myself, giving myself an arbitrary time limit is stifling, and results in a disjointed series of thoughts, rather than a coherent story. I guess that's okay, because the coherent story-telling energy needs to be saved for the book right now, and it's better to have some rambling bullshit than nothing at all. So this exercise was worthwhile, I guess. Maybe I can give myself a minimum to ten minutes each morning to write for myself before I get to "work." Yeah, I'll do that. I can still write longer and more interesting stuff when the inspiration hits me, but for the near future, I'm doing at least ten minutes every morning, except on weekends, because that's Willie's time!

How about we finish off with a Quote of the Day?

Most people would rather be certain they're miserable than risk being happy.
  - Robert Anthony

Posted by Wil at 9:44 AM | Permalink | Comments (32) | TrackBacks (1)

Two things you probably didn't know about me:

1. I've always wanted to be a bartender.
2. This Nextel thing with the guys dancing around to Salt-n-Pepa makes me laugh real hard whenever I see it.

Posted by Wil at 6:08 AM | Permalink | Comments (27)

My friend Dawn is up for MySpace Girl of the Week on Attack of the Show. I can't say anything about the other girls who are in the contest, but I know that Dawn is a real geek girl. I can guarantee you she's the only nominee who knows the difference between a comic book and a graphic novel, and odds are she's the only one who knows the correct answer to the question, "What is the airspeed velocity of an unladen swallow?"

So quit reading my non-cute-girl-having blog, and go vote for Dawn.

Posted by Wil at 8:24 PM | Permalink | Comments (10)

This week's Games of our Lives makes me giggle. The subject is one of my childhood favorites, Kung-Fu Master. Here's a little bit:

. . . Thomas found a note from "X": "Your love Silvia is in custody now. If you want to save your dear Silvia's life, come to the Devil's Temple at once. 5 Sons of the Devil will entertain you."

Well isn't that nice? Mr. X doesn't want to kill Thomas, he just wants the Kung-Fu Master to enjoy his temple's top-quality entertainment. Maybe when Thomas finds Silvia, they can join X at the late-night comedy buffet, which we hear gets a little blue.

Gameplay: The Devil's Temple is a lovely five-story building, decorated in the style of a '50s Chinese restaurant. Each level is filled with those Unknown Guys from the prologue, who attack Thomas using the ancient "raised-arm hug of death" technique.

At the end of each level, a different Kung-Fu Bad Guy must be defeated before you can move on, and all your favorites are here: Beating You With A Stick Guy, Boomerang Guy, Wizard Guy, Freakishly Big Guy, and, of course, Mr. X himself.

Kids today might like it because: Okay, we all know that she's just a cartoon, but holy shit, is Silvia hot. She's got this totally sexy china-doll thing going on, and that silk dress is just—what?

Now check this little bit that had to be cut for space, which my editor and I both thought was funny. From Gameplay:

Level one is pretty easy, but starting at level two, Jumping Midget Guy will join Knife Throwing guy and the Unknown Guys, and they'll have help from the various Jars of Death: snake-releasing jar, fire-breathing dragon jar, and deadly exploding confetti ball, uh, jar.

Hyuck. Hyuck. Hyuck.

Remember this game when it was on NES? I remember playing it like crazy, marvelling at how much it was like the arcade version. In fact, the only real difference between Nintendo's Kung-Fu and Irem's Kung-Fu Master is the graphics. The game played almost exactly the same at home as it did in the arcade, and if you played it on PlayChoice10, it was identical.

Do you associate certain games with certain arcades or places?

• Donkey Kong will forever be associated with Verdugo Bowling Alley in La Crescenta, because that's where I first saw it. In fact, I thought it was some weird bowling game because the barrells on level one look like bowling balls, if you're nine years old and in a bowling alley.

• Centipede will always be Shakeys Pizza in Tujunga, where this young couple in their 20s let me play their last man at the cocktail version because their pizza was ready, and Ms. Pac-Man will always be associated with this head shop in Sunland, where I got to the pretzel level on the first try.

• Super Pac-Man, Defender, Gyruss, and Mouse Trap take me back to Sunland Discount Variety and Hober's Pharmacy (they've become interchangable in my memory) and Donkey Kong Country on SNES will always remind me of when I lived in Nice, France, during production of Mr. Stitch, and my brother and I beat it when my family came out to vist me for Christmas.

• Crystal Castles is Alladin's Castle at the mall in Eugene, Oregon, during the filming of Stand By Me, and Burger Time and Tutankham will always remind me of the smell of chlorine and concrete, from the basement-level pool at the Eugene Hilton.

Funny, just writing about those places I can almost conjure up sense-memories, like smells and other ephemeral things that I can't quite put into words but I can feel, but I can't quite make them out, like the boobie channel on cable in 1984 that was scrambled but would occasionally resove into view for two or three glorious seconds, which would be the subject of much discussion the next day at school.

There are also all these games that just remind me of the happiness of my childhood, too: Journey, Riddle of the Sphinx, and Dodge-Em on Atari 2600, and the robot gyroscope game, Excitebike, and Super Mario Brothers (the turtle trick!) on NES are just a few. Writing about those, I can feel the orange shag carpet at the house in Sunland, the blue berber carpet in La Crescenta, and I can see the little television in my friend's bedroom where we played RC Pro-Am until we had "NES Thumb."

The kids and I bought this game controller thing in the mall a few weeks ago that has a ton of NES games built into it. It has Kung Fu, Ice Climber, Duck Hunt and Hogan's Alley, Contra, and a bunch of other NES classics. It is the most fun to play these games that I played from 8th-10th grade at every opportunity, with my kids (I just had this flash: after ten years, I think they're finally okay with me calling them my "kids" instead of my "step-kids" - that's awesome) who are just as excited to play these games with me as I was to play them with my friends when I was their age.

You know what I need to find and play again? Castlevania.

Posted by Wil at 6:04 PM | Permalink | Comments (34)

I have such a mancrush on Keith Olbermann. Watch him completely destroy douchebag of the century Bill O'Reilly.

Posted by Wil at 5:01 PM | Permalink | Comments (11) | TrackBacks (1)

This is your semi-regular reminder that the WWdN Friday game on Tuesday is tonight, and while I have your attention, I'll also remind you that the Thursday game is the day after tomorrow.

After much tweaking of the schedules, I've decided that the games will always take place at 8:30 EST on Tuesday, and 8:30 PST on Thursday. This should give everyone a chance to make it home from work, school, or the Regal Beagle in time to play.

A question for European players: are there more than five of you? I'm happy to host a once-a-month European-friendly game that would start very early (around noon Pacific) to accomodate you guys, if there's enough interest.

Also, don't forget that everyone who enters the Tuesday game has a shot at the WWdN Tournament of Champions, which is a free-roll SNG, sponsored by PokerStars. If you win a Tuesday game, you'll get a chance to play against me and seven other winners for some serious money, just because PokerStars loves you that much. I've been remiss in getting the first ToC scheduled, and I'll take care of that shortly.

Here are the details for tonight's game, which is the first game to be named after a previous champion, who I also happen to consider a friend:

What: WWdN: penner42 Invitational
Where: PokerStars.
When: Tuesday, January 31. 8:30 EST
Password: monkey
Tournament number: 18610753
Buy-in: $10 1

We're averaging about 70 players per game. I'd love to get that number up over 100, so the final two tables pay. Any suggestions on how to do that?

(Crossposted to CardSquad.com, where you can also read my review of High Stakes Poker on GSN)

Posted by Wil at 12:47 PM | Permalink | Comments (23)

Follow-up to Radio Free Burrito Episode Four: Like I thought, I did a great job on the voice audition, and they loved what I did. Also like I thought, my voice is too deep for the character, so I didn't get the part. Sadtimes, made less sad by the casting director telling my manager that everyone at Nick likes what I do, and they'll bring me back until they find a project that I can be part of.

Follow-up to the Walter post: Like I thought, I sucked out loud, and they were kind enough to simply say, "it's not going any further." I hope I didn't suck so hard they don't bring me back for future projects.

Posted by Wil at 9:11 AM | Permalink | Comments (14)

This week's Games of our Lives is an extremely fun game that never really caught on, called Peter Packrat.

Gameplay: Okay, Peter, there's a ton of junk scattered around your neighborhood, just waiting for you to get your disease-ridden claws on it. You can climb, jump, and crawl your way around your neighborhood as you fill your nest with bottles, rings, watches, and cans.

However, you're a dirty little rat, and you're at the bottom of the Flatbush food chain. Enemies like Scrapper the dog, Clawd the cat, Sticky the spider, and the resident tough guy Riff Rat would love to make you into a nice snack. You can avoid them with deft footwork and judicious use of hidden shortcuts, or attack them by throwing some of your precious junk. If you manage to score a hit, you can turn the tables and ride them around, with the exception of Riff Rat, who isn't anybody's bitch, in spite of what you may have heard around town.

Could be mistaken for: Cheeky Mouse, Bagman, a walk along the Los Angeles River

It's a moderately amusing column (the bio is the best part, if you ask me), lacking the rapier-like wit of Jungle King and Triple Punch, but not every at bat can be a home run, you know?

Anyway, WWdN:iX Reader Larry Hastings (who wants you to know that he is so old skool, he remembers Battlezone when it was on field test as "Future Tank") sent me the following Peter Packrat story, which he's given me permission to reprint here:

Just a personal story about Peter Packrat... a footnote to history.

At one time in my life I was Intergalactic World High Score Champion at Peter Packrat.  That's because there was only one--on field test at Merlin's Castle in San Jose right near my house--and I was the main person playing it.

The game is deterministic; you develop patterns which will work every time.  I had worked out patterns for, I /think/, the first five levels or so... that was as far as I generally got.  One day while playing I discovered a bug: the "spider" in the creepy cavern level would occasionally stray out of its web, and if you conked it on the noggin with bric-a-brac you could stun it and ride it around.  Since it wasn't on the "spider web" anymore, the game didn't think it was a spider... so it decided it was a bat!  It even made the bat sound effect.  This delighted me, and it actually improved my pattern, so I worked it in.

One day I came in to Merlin's Castle and Peter Packrat was out of commission.  Some guy had the back open, where I could clearly see... a Commodore 1541 floppy drive, like you'd use with a Commodore 64.  After a minute or two of grinding and buzzing, it finished doing what it was doing.   He took out the disk and they restored the machine to active service  I started playing only to discover that the bug was fixed and my pattern didn't work anymore.  I think I mostly gave up on the game after that.

About ten years ago I corresponded a little with Lyle Rains, a now-ex-Atari guy, and mentioned all this.  He opined that the animations on Peter Packrat were just fantastic--really cute--and it was an utter shame that Atari botched it as a product.

And a bit of news that is quite exciting for me: Peter Packrat is internally known as "gool#52", which means that I've been writing Games of our Lives for one full year. How much does that rock? The answer is: totally.

Posted by Wil at 10:02 AM | Permalink | Comments (11)

I made the (mistake?) of ordering a Venti coffee this morning, and I feel like a little hummingbird right now.

So how about a whole bunch of random crap?

• I love Colin Hay's album Company of Strangers, especially How Long Will It Last? and No Win Situation.

• Sen. Harry Reid (D, NV) nails it:

"After reviewing the Republican record, I know why Ken Mehlman and Karl Rove want to play politics with national security in 2006 instead of having an honest debate about who can keep Americans safe. It's because this is a debate Republicans cannot win.

Republicans run good campaigns, but when it comes to actually governing and protecting Americans, they have a record of incompetence."

Right on, Senator. Think you can get the rest of the Democrats together on this one, or are you guys going to totally screw it up again?

• We just added a bunch of new bloggers to blogging.la. I can't wait for the hazing to begin. I have my paddle and everything.

• Those people who freaked out at me because of my last post? Get a life. Failing that, get a sense of humor.

• I've read two amazing books recently, which I'll mention and recommend later on this week.

• One of the points Stephen King makes in On Writing . . . over and over again is that people who wish to be writers must make time to read. I find that the more I read, the more I want to write, because my writing monkey only digs his claws into my brains when I read something and think, Oh! I can do that, too! Watch me now! I can't wait to write about Friday night.

• Stephen King has a new book out today, about people who become zombies because of cell phones. It sounds really fun.

• iTunes Music Store use is up 247%, according to a survey which includes some rather interesting facts:

The survey also noted that iTunes Music Store customers were 2.2 times more likely to drive a Volkswagen than any other car. They also discovered that iTMS customers liked to drink cider and imported beer. So I guess that on the road of life there are passengers, and teenaged drunk drivers.

• One of my favorite bits on Futurama was, "I'm Roseanne, your guide to the world of facts." I love that line so much, I wish I could use it whenever I share some useless bit of information with someone, like, "Did you know that a baby's head weighs the same as a brick of gold on the moon? It's true. I'm Wil, your guide to the world of facts."

• I think I already knew this, but forgot: Good news, everyone! There's a Futurama movie in the works, and there's even a chance that Futurama could have a Family Guy-esque revival on television.

• Nolan told me the other night, "I love it when Professor Farnsworth says things like, 'I'm sending you on a mission to Planet Certain Death, where you'll have your faces crushed by killer robots as soon as you land . . . Enjoy!'"

• I got The Wilco Book + CD for Xmas, right before Santa came down and rained death upon the whole world, and it is really amazing. I guess I shouldn't be surprised, because it's Wilco, after all, that the CD is as good as it is, but it wouldn't be shocking if they threw together some "B" material to release with the book (which is awesome on its own, by the way). They didn't. Several of the tracks have earned a coveted five star rating on my iPod.

• I watched I am Trying to Break Your Heart over the weekend. The best moment in the entire film is when Jeff Tweedy's son plays drums on his lap, and makes Jeff guess which song he's playing. When Jeff guesses that it's Heavy Metal Drummer, he starts to sing it while his son plays the drums on his legs. It's one of the sweetest and most awesome moments I've ever seen. In fact, it was awesome and a half.

• Mt friend Kat is taking me to see Jeff Tweedy when he comes to LA. Ding!

• Night before last, we had 70-80 MPH gusts of wind at my house, which knocked out our power for about 18 hours and destroyed several million-year-old oak trees in my neighborhood. One of them almost took out one of my neighbor's houses. Yipe. Last night, we expected the wind to come back, but it never did. On the way home from school yesterday, the kids and I discussed the wind, and came to the following conclusions:

• I hate the wind, because it's so destructive and loud.
• Nolan sleeps through it at night, and if he had to pick between wind and rain, he'd take wind.
• Ryan loves the wind, because it feels like it's cleaning everything up, and it's got all this raw, unfocused power.
• We all love days like today, after the wind has gone away, where it's so clear you feel like you could see to the other side of the world, if the damn horizon wasn't in the way.

• I had a bit of a panic recently when my Powerbook began acting weird. None of the disk utilities on my install discs worked, and I was on the verge of freaking out, when I was pointed toward Disk Warrior. I can't praise Disk Warrior enough. It completely fixed all the problems, in about an hour, and my Powerbook doesn't show any of the obvious signs of the abuse it takes from me, up here on the second floor.

• Though you won't be able to tell when you read this entry, I'm stopping right now to call Allentown, PA, to do an interview. I really liked the reporter, and we talked for about 45 minutes. I hope I made sense, and I'll link the article when it comes out.

• This post has way too many indents and sub-indents.

• Bill Hicks just came on iTunes. Who is the modern day Bill Hicks? I can't think of anyone off the top of my head.

• The movie The Comedians of Comedy is really great, and almost made me forgive Zach Galifianakis for completely stealing a bit from me that I used to do on the J.Keith vanStraaten Show, and using it on Jimmy Kimmel's show.

• Isaac Hayes' Joy just came on iTunes. Good thing Anne isn't home, or this post would be delayed by at least another three minutes.

• Eww! Gross!

• What?

• This post is really fun to write. I think I've been taking myself, my blog, and everything in general too seriously lately. (Deadbeats really fucking suck, man, and they can really take a lot of the happiness out of your life) Who cares if everything I write isn't so goddamned great or important? And who cares if I over-use italics?

• A friend of mine just pointed out to me that I'd created another Prove To Everyone . . . rather than write an entire book about it to slay it, the simple act of identifying the existance of this beast was like turning on the light and realizing that the monster I kept seeing in the corner was just a jacket slumped over the chair. In other words, it was never really there, and only existed because I created it. Wow. I feel like I've been breathing through a straw, and I just got to take my first deep breath in months. Thanks, J.

• I think I've said everything I need to say, and I'm incredibly satisfied right now. Where is my mind? It's right here. Rather than push it, I'm going to hit "publish," and go outside to enjoy a little bit of this amazing day we're having.

I'm Wil, your guide to the world of facts.

Posted by Wil at 1:09 PM | Permalink | Comments (62)

An interesting (there's that word again) follow-up to my previous post, which was a funny follow-up to its previous post: Way back when I was eighteen or nineteen, my friend Damion, who wrote and directed  Neverland, stood in front of the Tower Records on Sunset the day Fabio's CD came out, with a cardboard sign which read, "I need twelve dollars to buy the Fabio CD." It took him about fifteen minutes to successfully panhandle his way into his own copy of Fabio After Dark.

A few years later, Damion was Garfield for Halloween, but not just any Garfield; the Garfield that was stuck into car windows all over Los Angeles in the early 1990s. He had the giant suction cups and everything, but what really made the costume was after a few drinks, when Damion told anyone who would listen, "Garfield has gingivitis!" It was a very surreal All Hallow's Eve, to say the very least, and I haven't even gotten to the part where the drag queen got into some sort of quasi-erotic (or disturbing, I suppose) dance off with a stripper that, strangely, had something to please almost everyone in the ad-hoc audience.

Posted by Wil at 9:19 PM | Permalink | Comments (12)

An interesting (there's that word again) follow-up to my previous post, which was a funny follow-up to its previous post: Way back when I was eighteen or nineteen, my friend Damion, who wrote and directed  Neverland, stood in front of the Tower Records on Sunset the day Fabio's CD came out, with a cardboard sign which read, "I need twelve dollars to buy the Fabio CD." It took him about fifteen minutes to successfully panhandle his way into his own copy of Fabio After Dark.

A few years later, Damion was Garfield for Halloween, but not just any Garfield; the Garfield that was stuck into car windows all over Los Angeles in the early 1990s. He had the giant suction cups and everything, but what really made the costume was after a few drinks, when Damion told anyone who would listen, "Garfield has gingivitis!" It was a very surreal All Hallow's Eve, to say the very least, and I haven't even gotten to the part where the drag queen got into some sort of quasi-erotic (or disturbing, I suppose) dance off with a stripper that, strangely, had something to please almost everyone in the ad-hoc audience.

Posted by Wil at 9:19 PM | Permalink | Comments (12)

A funny follow-up to my previous post, that had completely washed out of my brains until moments ago, when for some inexplicable reason the theme to Get Smart made me remember:

About a year ago, Anne and I were driving home down Santa Monica near Highland in Hollywood. It was the beginning of afternoon rush hour traffic, so when I saw a person waiting to make a left from a side street, I stopped to let him go across in front of us. See, I try to do nice things like that, because I believe the world would be a much better place if everyone made an effort to do little things, like hold doors open, let people with fewer items cut in front in the checkout, say "thank you" . . . things like that.

Anyway, I stop to let this guy pull out across in front of us, and Anne says, "Dude! That's totally Fabio!"

"What? Where?!" I said.

"Driving the car you just let in front of us!"

I laughed, because Anne and I occasionally play the celebrity look alike game, too.

We were silent for a second or two, and we both realized that that the car was a Bentley, and the driver was, indeed, Fabio.

"Oh my god!" I said. "It really is Fabio!"

Anne and I decided that this momentous occasion warranted an immediate and vigorous high-five.

Fabio waved his hand at me in the universal "thank you," gesture, turned West onto Santa Monica, and drove into the Sunset. We continued East into our mundane, non-Fabio lives.

Posted by Wil at 9:10 PM | Permalink | Comments (13)

When I was in my very early 20s, this girl who I dated and I played this celebrity lookalike game.

Whenever we saw someone who looked like a celebrity, one of us would say, "Hey, there's Nell Carter" or "Don't look now, but Kirk Cameron is shopping in Target."

One day, we were eating lunch at this Hamburger Hamlet in West Hollywood, on the extreme West end of the Sunset Strip. I looked up from my lunch to see this totally goofy looking guy, with a stupid mullet, parachute-y muscle pants, and a corduroy hat that had "Someone in Tennessee Loves Me" embroidered on the front.

"Hey," I said, "There's Chuck Norris wearing a 'Someone in Tennessee Loves Me' cap."

We cracked up and complimented each other on our insightful wit.

A few minutes later, a manager walked over to that guy's table holding a phone on a long cord, like you'd see in the old 1940s movies.

"Mr. Norris," he said, "Mr. Washington is calling from Knoxville."

Posted by Wil at 5:25 PM | Permalink | Comments (19) | TrackBacks (1)

Last night, I played some micro-limit (.10/.25) hold'em on PokerStars. Right after I donkeyed into a gutshot on the turn with JTo to suckout on this poor guy who made middle pair with KQ on a board of A-Q-9 I realized that I'd forgotten to set up today's WWdN Invitational. While that guy filled the chat box with things like "****ing moron," and "nice call with a gutshot there, you stupid ****ing donkey mother******," I got everything set up but the name. I thought of something like WWdN #10: The Wil Didn't Play Last Week Invitational, but let's face it, that sucks.

Luckily for me, my stepson Nolan walked into my office at that moment, so I said to him, "Do you want to name my tournament?"

"What do you mean?" He said.

I explained how I name the tourney after the donkey extremely skillful player who knocks me out each week, but since I was /away, I didn't know what to name it.

He thought for about a nanosecond, and said, "Yeah! Name it Nolan Rules!" He cracked up, and was shocked when I typed it in and hit enter.

"Okay," I said, "you've just named the tourney."

"Uhh . . . how many people will get to see that?"

"Thousands," I said. "Maybe tens of thousands, and they will all know that you rule. In fact, it could be hundreds of millions. I hope you're prepared for the responsibility that comes with ruling that many people."

He gave me the you're so lame/you're insane/oh-my-god-I-am-mortified-that-you-did-that look, which is pretty common since he became A Teenager.

"Are you serious?" He said.

I laughed. "No. It will only be seen by fives of people in the tourney, and maybe thirties of people online. And I think most people will get the joke."

"Okay . . ." He said.

"And even if they don't, what do you care? You're their ruler."

Now he smiled. "Whatever, Wil. Are you going to come play charades with me and mom now?"

"Right after I finish this orbit," I said. He glanced at the screen and said, "uh, that guy is cussing a lot."

"Yeah, I put a really bad beat on him," I said.

"Oh, so you mean he's saying in the chat box what you say in real life when you're in here alone?" He smirked.

Busted.

"Something like that," I said. "Tell your mom I'll be right there."

I returned to my game. "Sorry man," I typed in the chat box. "You're right. I am a complete donkey, and I totally suck at poker."  On the very next hand, I was dealt A5c in the SB. Everyone limped in ahead of me, so I completed and saw a flop of 2-3-6 with no clubs. I checked, the BB raised, and it was folded to KQ guy, who bet the pot. It was folded back to me.

Do I try for the gutshot again? I thought. Because the Implied Tilt Odds are infinite.

I actually went into the tank for a bit, until deciding that it was probably stupid to call. I folded, and a 4 hit the turn.

So this is what it's like to be CJ, I thought, as I picked up my virtual chips, and headed out to the living room to play with my family.

Posted by Wil at 8:03 PM | Permalink | Comments (12)

The last couple of days, I've been pretty busy writing stories for CardSquad, including one about the demise of one of Vegas' greatest dumps, The Klondike, which I think has enough crossover appeal to mention here:

Right after we placed our order, a man and a woman sat down at the table next to us. I forget what she looked like, but he was wearing an orange prison jumpsuit, and was a smelly, unshaven mess. From their conversation, it was unclear whether he'd been released, or escaped. Either way, the waitress (who was so drunk at eleven in the morning, we were concerned about open flames) didn't seem to care. Because we were all in our very early twenties, neither did we. The as-yet-unawakened writer in me furiously scribbled down every possible detail of what was clearly a moment in time we'd never want to forget.

There's more, so follow the links if I've successfully piqued your interest. There's also a story about this really cool thing PokerStars is doing today and tomorrow: revealing hole cards during a television-style replay of the final table of January 8th's $500,000 guaranteed tourney. I don't know if it has as much crossover appeal as the Klondike story, but it's such cool news, I'm mentioning it anway, because this is my damn blog and I can do whatever I want, goddammit:

It was quite a sight, to walk into any of the WiFi-enabled areas of the resort, and find players packed in, elbow-to-elbow, in some cases playing battleship-style, in others, sweating each other after one of them had been eliminated, in all, hoping to claim first place, which was worth over $125,000.

The lobby of my tower was filled with recognizable professional players, like Evlyn Ng, Alex Todd, Michael Mizrachi, and others. There were also fearsome online pros, and a few donkeys like me. The energy was just as electric, and the stakes just as high as they were down the hall in the live poker room, where the main event of the PCA was still underway. The only difference? Players could smoke in the lobby, while the poker room was smoke-free.

Also, the WWdN Invitational returns tonight, at 8:30 PM EST. I let Nolan name this week's game, since I didn't play last week, and was therefore unable to be the victim of a 3-outer river suckout.

What: WWdN: Nolan Rules! Invitational
Where: PokerStars.
When: Tuesday, January 17th, 2006. 8:30 PM EDT
Password: monkey
Tournament number: 18186252
Buy-in: $10+1

Finally, some really exciting news: I talked about the WWdN tourneys with a friend of mine while I was at the PCA, and asked him if he'd consider playing with us one day. He couldn't commit to a specific date, but told me that if I remind him each week, he'll eventually have some time to play with us. His name is Greg Raymer. You may have heard of him. (ohmygodohmygodohmygod)

See you all tonight!

Posted by Wil at 2:52 PM | Permalink | Comments (8)

It turns out that I didn't take as many pictures at the PCA as I thought I did. It's kind of a drag, because Anne and I specifically agreed that, even though it's a bit of a hassle to carry the camera everywhere, we always appreciate lots of pictures once we get home.

Oh well. It's just more motivation for me to get fabulously wealthy, so I can justify the purchase of one of those really skinny and ultra-portable digital cameras everyone else has.

Anyway, I uploaded most of the good photos to my flickr account in a nifty little photoset called 2006 PCA. For some reason, there isn't a single picture of me in the poker room, which makes me sad.

Posted by Wil at 6:54 PM | Permalink | Comments (18)

I was doing some research for Games of our Lives at Wikipedia, and I took a look at my entry while I was there. I'm glad that the days of idiot vandalism are over, but I also see that the information there is incredibly incomplete, and there's a completely incorrect assertion about my relationship with PokerStars (I don't provide "advertising services" for them, I'm on Team PokerStars. Big difference.) I would be happy to write up a more complete biography, including some as-yet-unpublished information about growing up, my early years as an actor, and some of the things I've done in the last five or six years that aren't there.

I'm not interested in "spinning" anything, just filling in more information to make it a more useful and complete entry. I know that editing one's own Wikipedia page is frowned upon, but if it's just filling in facts, that's okay, right? Anyone have any thoughts or comments?

In a related story, someone finally fixed my entry at the imdb. Thank you, unknown editor!

Posted by Wil at 12:21 PM | Permalink | Comments (20)

There's this one corner of my office that's been completely taken over by various bits of flotsam. It's the place where things that really need to be dealt with get shoved aside, partially out of sight, but never entirely out of mind.

I've been putting off cleaning it up, but just before we left for the PCA, I had this overwhelming and undeniable desire to clean out all the bullshit that is scattered around my house, which has been allowed to pile up and overwhelm me over the last year or so.

This is a powerful metaphor for what's going on in my life right now.

I am so fucking sick and tired of all this bullshit that's piled up everywhere that makes me feel like I'm not even in control of my own life, and I'm so sick of making excuses for allowing it to be there, I just attacked it this afternoon. Literally. I grabbed handfuls of books off shelves and piled them on the floor to be sorted. I pulled out drawers from a desk, dumped them next to the books, got the shredder out, and went through almost eighteen months worth of junk and paperwork that should have been filed away or destroyed long ago. It's been a long, occasionally frustrating, but mostly rewarding day, as I get this shit under control. The end is starting to come into view, and now that I feel like this shit isn't controlling me, I can enjoy some of the cool things I've come across, like a stack of old Star Trek trading cards, my script from CSI, some press kits from Stand By Me, and a bunch of really cool Aqualad figures I'd forgotten I had. I found things that made me angry, like correspondence I sent to O'Reilly (unsuccessfully) begging them to stop mispromoting Just A Geek, and things that made me incredibly happy, like a first-edition of Dancing Barefoot, complete with typo(e)s, and the original hand-drawn layout for WWdN from a thousand years ago. I also found some things that made me really sad, like one of Sketch's chewed up rainbow balls. I also found some things that must have seemed very important at the time I collected them, like an envelope with the word "It's Curvy!" written in my this is hilarious! script, and a seven of diamonds with the pips connected like dots. I also found a bunch of poker chips I thought I'd lost, and well over one hundred polyhedral dice. There are CDs, DVDs, pictures, business cards, notes, and lots and lots of games.Most of this stuff is going into boxes and out to the garage, but a lot of it will get thrown into the trash with extreme prejudice. It's empowering to decide what's important enough to keep around, what's worth dealing with, and what's just better off going straight into the fucking trash where it belongs.

For the longest time, the only semi-calm area in my office was about a four foot neutral zone surrounding my computer, but I've nearly reclaimed the entire area in the name of Wil, and it feels awesome. Tomorrow, I will continue to expand my empire out into the rest of my house, and by extension, my life. I'm not sure if I'll be successful, but I'm going to do my very best.

Which is a powerful metaphor for what's going on in my life right now.

Posted by Wil at 6:07 PM | Permalink | Comments (32) | TrackBacks (1)

We got home late last night, after a really bumpy and seemingly never-ending flight. Have you noticed that when you want to get home after a long trip, everything seems to take twice as long? We waited an hour to get our bags at LAX, then an additional 35 minutes for the car to pick us up. It's a good thing I was rested and travelling with my wife, or I would have been super cranky.

I'll have a massive trip report up as soon as I unpack and wash my clothes, and get caught up on my e-mail, bloglines, real mail, and whatever else has piled up over the last ten days (don't worry, all the poker stuff will be at CardSquad.com, so you can read the entire trip, or just the stuff that interests you.)

Posted by Wil at 9:21 AM | Permalink | Comments (19)

From my balcony, I can see two cruise ships on the horizon, two weddings on the grounds beneath me, and the stetting sun bathing the entire scene in a golden light. The sound of waterfalls and reggae music drifts up on a light breeze, which was a fierce windstorm as recently as last night.

The white sand of the beach is dotted with washed-over footprints, and the sting rays in the pool beneath me are settling into the shallows, now in shade, where they spend their evenings.

When I landed here in Nassau, and did some interviews to promote PokerStars and the PokerStars Caribbean Adventure, I commented that even if I didn't make the money, the "consolation prize of a week" in paradise with my wife would do quite nicely.

It turns out that I was right.

Catching up on the last few days . . .

After Anne and I slept for fourteen hours to catch up from our post-holiday and red eye flight exhaustion, we wandered around the grounds here. We ate lunch, and had our first experience with the absolutely abominable service in the restaurants here. (Rude, slow, and disinterested seems to be the standard theme, always rewarded by the mandatory 15% tip which is helpfully included in all of our bills.)

After lunch, we went down to the beach where we played Scrabble and watched people parasail, ride jet skis, and play in the surf and sand. I've lived all over the world, and I've been to some really beautiful places, but there is nothing like the beauty of the Caribbean water on a sunny day. Even when the weather was lousy, like it was yesterday, the seas still managed to look excited, rather than angry, and when the sun poked through the clouds, it shot brilliant shafts of light down that looked like something from one of those awesome 1980s oil paintings you see over your grandparents' couch.

When the afternoon got late, and the wind kicked up, we headed back upstairs and got ready for the welcome party that PokerStars had for all the participants and staff. Before the party, I had a meeting with all the Team PokerStars members, and met 2005 WSOP Champion Joe Hachem for the first time. I didn't think it was possible to meet a poker player who is nicer and more friendly than Greg Raymer, but Joe is just as amazing as Greg is, and just as patient and kind to legion of fans who want a piece of him. After the meeting, I picked up Anne, and we walked with Greg, Joe, Isabelle Mercier (sigh), Lee Jones, and several of the PokerStars staff over to the welcome party.

The party was held poolside on this place they call The Royal Deck, because it sits in the shadows of the luxurious Royal Towers, and there was live music, lots of food, and enough open bars to keep a bunch of rowdy poker players happy. Dan Goldman took the stage after we'd all been there about thirty minutes, and introduced all the people who worked so hard to make this tournament happen. If I recall correctly, he said something like, "To make this happen, it takes six months of planning, three months of work, and two weeks of complete panic." One of the many reasons I'm so proud of my affiliation with PokerStars is because I get to work with people like Dan and Sharon and Lee, and too many other hardworking people to count, who really care about their players. I know I've talked about it before, but I don't know if I've written about how much it feels like a big family. I'm exceptionally lucky to be part of this company.

After the staff introductions, Dan introduced the members of Team PokerStars, minus Chris and Evelyn, who had flight issues, and after Joe made a brief speech where he said, "There are only two rules: when I raise, fold. And when I go all-in, fold." Ah, poker humor. While it lacks the subtlety of "pull my finger" jokes, it certainly makes up for it with the obscurity normally reserved for Monty Python jokes.

We all ate and drank (just water and juice for me, thanks) for a few hours, and I managed to, while completely sober, drop an entire 16 ounce cup of cranberry juice on the ground while talking with Terrance Chan and his girlfriend Jacqueline. Awesome. We also finally met Otis' wife, Mrs. Otis, which confirmed that poker bloggers always marry up. I don't know how we do it, but I'm glad we do. I also met a few people who were fans of my blog, my books, and my acting work, which is always cool, because I still feel out of my league at these things, and I'm always terrified that someone's going to figure out that they actually meant to recruit a different WIl Wheaton for Team PokerStars. I resolve to accept that I deserve to be at the next thing, whatever it is, and quit doubting my abilities as a player, and my legitimacy as a member of the team.

After the party, Anne and I were still hungry, so we ate in that Cafe place again, mostly because it was close, open, and we knew there were things on the menu we liked, before we turned in early enough for me to fall asleep before midnight, wake up at 12:30, and toss and turn until 5AM. When the alarm went off at 8:45, I felt like I had gremlins gnawing on my head and spikes shoved into my back, but I drank some coffee, ate a muffin, and shook it off in time for my interviews at 10:00.

The weddings below me are in full-swing, and the sun has dropped beneath the lowest bank of slowly-drifting clouds, flecking their edges gold and painting the horizon orange and red. I'm going to take this down to the PokerStars office so I can use their Internets to post it.

Next time: The Tournament. (For those of you who can't wait, check out Otis' updates at The Official PokerStars Blog.)

Posted by Wil at 2:54 PM | Permalink | Comments (18) | TrackBacks (2)

Happy 2006, everyone!

Anne, the kids, and I spent the day on New Year's Eve with all of my friends, playing nerdy games (Frank's Zoo is one of my new favorites) and eating all sorts of awesome food, because several of my friends have developed a passion of cooking in the last few years -- if you can convince your friends to fall in love with cooking, go for it. Trust me, I know what I'm taking about. Then we headed home, (to beat traffic, rain and drunks) and rang in the new year by playing the Pop Culture edition of Trivial Pursuit (it's really fun, and the easiest of all the Trivial Pursuit variants, IMHO) while Ferris and Riley tried to figure out just why the hell we weren't in bed, yet.

Yesterday, Ryan and I spent much of the day watching the Twilight Zone marathon on Sci-Fi. Gods, I love the Twilight Zone. I love it that I can count on every episode to either terrify me, make me think, or blow me away with some unexpected twist. I saw some episodes yesterday that I'd never seen before, in addition to the usual line up of Twilight Zone classics.

The Rose Parade, which usually happens on New Year's Day, happened today instead, because Jan 1 was on a Sunday. It was the first time since 1955 that there's been a massive storm on the parade, which meant that for the first time in several years, the stealth bomber didn't buzz over my house and scare the shit out of my family. If you can catch the parade on HD, it's worth it.

Today is a busy day for Anne and me, because we're leaving on the red eye tonight to go to the Atlantis resort on Paradise Island in the Bahamas for the PokerStars Caribbean Adventure poker tournament.

While we're down there, I'll do my best to provide daily tournament updates, similar to my WSOP updates, at CardSquad.com. I'll also do my best to update interesting personal stuff here.

Posted by Wil at 1:44 PM | Permalink | Comments (32)

I wrote a follow-up article to my story about the controversy between the World Poker Tour and some top tournament pros:

The recent controversy between the World Poker Tour and several top tournament pros doesn't seem to be slowing down at all, despite an open letter to the poker community from WPT Co-founder Steve Lipscomb.

To briefly recap: The World Poker Tour requires all tournament players to grant rights to the WPT to use their image and likeness in pretty much any way the WPT chooses, without ever compensating the players for that use. Several top tournament pros aren't happy with the agreement, including WSOP Champion Chris Ferguson, who told me that he is unable to play in WPT events, because the release he is required to sign would cause him to be in breach of at least one of his existing contracts.

[. . .]

Steve Lipscomb says, "The latest hot button issue seems to be the filming release we require players to sign before they play in World Poker Tour events. The release we utilize is a standard filming release that all production companies must have signed by everyone they film - or the television broadcaster will refuse to air our material. Filming releases are always broadly drafted to protect against frivolous law suits. The language is clear. The production company can use all the footage it shoots and the person's image in all media.

But, the story does not end there. The World Poker Tour is a business. We value our relationship with WPT players and have always acted with great care and deference when using player images. The few players now trying to stir up controversy around player releases are lost in hypotheticals - not reality."

[. . .]

[I]f the WPT is not interested in using some of the rights they're demanding, why are they making the demands in the first place? Anyone with any business savvy will have a very hard time accepting "Just trust me" in this case. In fact, a top player, speaking to me on condition of anynomity said, "[Steve Lipscomb] says he needs the releases to be as they are to protect WPT, but players have offered to sign a release like the WSOP and they refused. In response to complaints about their video game rights, they did modify their agreement to explicity rule out making avatars of the players without their consent. However, that was the only limitation.  By only excluding that, they could use clips of you in the game, or even put your face on the box, with no compensation!  In fact, because they reserve these rights, a player can NOT grant exclusive rights to any video game company, because WPT already reserves certain rights. That's just one example."

Yeah! Check me out! I get anonymous sources! Woo! Anyway, if you're interested in the drama, check out the full post at CardSquad, which includes comments from Annie Duke and Daniel Negreanu.

This week's Games of our Lives follows that advice I indirectly took from Joel Hodgson and goes for some jokes that are really funny to me, but may be lost on part of the audience:

Gameplay: You play a little handy guy with cute feet and a jaunty hat. Your enemies are also little handy guys, but they're green (the universal color of evil) and have frowny faces to go with their cute little feet. Your goal is to clear all the dots in a maze, while the other little handy guys try to stop you. What sets Got-Ya apart from all the other Pac-Man knockoffs is the addition of RoShamBo. You and your enemies represent Rock, Paper, or Scissors, and when you hit each other, you'll live or die based on the classic rules of RoShamBo. Scattered around the maze are dollar signs, and when you pick one up, you can change into whichever form you want. But beware! The other little handy guys will also change form randomly.

Could be mistaken for: Ms. Pac-Man, The Hand, a trip report from the Tiltboys

Kids today may not like it because: There is no bonus level where they get to "Circle" their opponents.

Kids today may like it because: When they complete a level, their little handy guy is magically transformed into something that looks an awful lot like the Kool-Aid Man. Oh yeah!

Finally, the latest installment of GATORWATCH!!!11! is up at blogging.la:

As 2005 draws to a close, I look back on the year, and ask myself a lot of questions: Is it worth living here, with the traffic, and the overcrowding, and the high cost of living? Why didn't I hike up to Mount Wilson this year? Will the Los Angeles Dodgers of Los Angeles make another exciting run at third place in 2006?

But the biggest question, the one that's kept me up at night, is: What the hell happened to GATORWATCH!!!!!111!?!!?? I mean, for days, we had reporters camped out on the shores of Machado Lake! There was scandal, and intrigue, and drama, and the Crocodile Hunter was coming to town to save us all from Reggie the Killer Alligator. Then, as quickly as the GATORWATCH!!!!!111! started, it stopped.

Until yesterday, baby, when GATORWATCH!!!!!111! was back in full effect, when two jerkass dirtbags were arrested and charged with dumping Reggie the Killer Alligator

And with that, I think I can take a break from the computer. I've written so much in the last 48 hours, it's hard to figure out where my desk ends, and I begin.

In fact, yesterday, Nolan came into my office and asked me if I could take a break so we could go do something together.

"What did you have in mind?" I said.

"I don't know," he said, "anything, really. I'm getting kind of bored."

"When I'm finished with this piece, we'll go out for a bite to eat," I said.

"Okay," he said, "I guess it's back to my Galactica-a-thon."

"Your what?" I said.

"Oh, I'm just having a Galatica day while you're working," he said. "You were right, it's awesome!"

I was so excited, I called Anne, and told her that I'd successfully introduced Nolan to the greatest Sci-Fi series in history.

"Oh man, you're totally corrupting my children," she said.

"They are totally 42% nerd, now," I said.

I waited for a moment, but the reference was lost on her, as she's only 8% nerd.

"I gotta get back to work," she said.

"Okay. I love you."

"I love you too. Nerd."

Posted by Wil at 11:15 AM | Permalink | Comments (23) | TrackBacks (1)

"Nothing is more important than family."
    --My Mom.

NOTE: This entry is extremely long. Please read it anyway. If you're short on time, at least read the beginning and end, before and after the blockquote. Thanks.

I spent much of Christmas afternoon and evening at my parents' house. As dusk turned to night, I stood in their darkened living room, lit only by the lights of their tree, and watched my dad and brother play with my stepkids out in the street, just as he'd played with me when I was a kid.

My mom walked over to me, and after we watched them for a minute she said, "We read your essay."

She didn't have to say anything else. Her tone of voice sent a chill down my arms and the sinking feeling in my stomach told me that something was very, very wrong.

I turned to face her, and her eyes were filled with tears. "You were totally correct about the Tookie Williams thing," she said, "but you really misrepresented me and your dad." The tears spilled down her face. "I never listened to Bill O'Reilly," she said, "and I have never listened to Rush Limbaugh. I want to move to Montana because I'll feel safer there than I do in Los Angeles, I can ride horses again, and it's more like the America I grew up in when things were simpler. It's not because I'm a racist or a bigot, which is the impression I got when I read that. Did you forget that I am the child of immigrants? I'm a first-generation American! You made us sound like we are crazy wingnuts, and we're not."

When I was just sixteen, and I had my first car, I saw two doves pecking at something on the ground. I thought to myself, "Boy, it sure would be funny to scare those birds and make them fly away!" I pointed my car at them, and accelerated. One took flight, but the other didn't move in time and was crushed beneath the tire of my car. It was the first and only time I've ever killed another living thing on purpose, and the guilt stayed with me for years. When I looked at my mom, who has given me so much, and saw how disappointed and betrayed she felt, I felt a guilt and regret that was even worse. I really screwed up when I didn't show them my essay before it ran, so they could comment to me about it, and correct anything which they felt was inaccurate. All of my instincts told me to do that, and I didn't, because I was afraid of how they'd react. In other words, my cowardice has hurt my family in a way that I may never be able to repair.

When I wrote my story, I hoped that it would spark a dialogue about the nature of discourse in our country, and comment on movement conservatives who voted for Bush even though he has (in my opinion) abandoned most of their values. What I did not intend was for my parents to be hurt, embarrassed, humiliated, or misrepresented. While they both do not dispute the accuracy of the Wheaton Family Christmas Incident, they took great issue with the way I described and portrayed my father. My dad isn't a Talk Radio Wingnut; in fact, I've learned that he's a proud conservative, whose values have remained consistent (and far more moderate than I understood,) even as George Bush's Republican party has abandoned him, and people like him.

While my mom and I stood in the living room, I promised her that I'd do whatever I could to set the record straight, and correct the editorial cartoon caricature of my dad that I'd created with my essay. In letters to the editor at Salon, and in comments on my blog, I've seen people make lots of assumptions about my dad, and call him all sorts of names which, if if spoken in my presence, would result in an immediate cockpunch from me. I know that my dad has read some of these comments, and I'm really upset that people would say things like that about my father, who is the kindest, most supportive, and loving man I've ever known. However, it's entirely my fault, for allowing an impression of my dad to be created without thinking through the consequences of that impression, or giving him an opportunity to at the very least respond to it.

I take full responsibility for bringing this grief upon my parents. I was unfair and irresponsible, and this is my effort to set things right.

On the day after Christmas, I drove up to my parents house, sat with them in their kitchen, and had a long conversation with them about politics, where they stand on various issues, and why. I felt that I owed them a chance to set the record straight, in their own words. Over a couple of hours, I learned that my parents are both pro-choice and pro-family, oppose the Iraq war (my dad said that at least they knew why they were fighting in Vietnam -- a war he also opposed as he served as a medic in the National Guard -- but it's become "too muddled" to know why we're fighting in Iraq, thanks to the Bush administration's changing rationales and lack of credibility.) I learned that my parents still hold the values of compassion, tolerance and charity which they instilled in me as a child, even if the politicians they support do not.

But more than anything else, and most importantly, I learned that my impression of my dad as a screaming-head blowhard, which I shared with the world, based on one incident and a bunch of irresponsible assumptions, was just plain wrong.

This is my parents, in their own words, transcribed from a conversation I had with them on December 26th, 2005:

WIL:  Okay, on the record: my motivations in writing my story were not -uh- I didn't have mean ulterior motives. I wasn't trying to misportray you guys, or misrepresent you guys, or anything like that.

MOM: We knew that.

DAD: Yeah.

W: But that doesn't matter. What matters is how you guys feel. And that's why it matters to me.

M: Because life is full of good intentions.

W: Yeah, and that's why it matters to me to, you know, fix it. I -- just so you know a little history of how this came about: Like I wrote, it's not that big a deal that we don't see eye-to-eye on things.

M: And I love it that we don't see eye-to-eye on things.

W: That doesn't matter to me. I don't subscribe to this "winner takes all" theory that seems to be --

D: Neither do we.

M: We didn't raise you to agree with us.

D: And mom told me that when you talked with her, you said that you felt I would yell at you whenever we'd have a political discussion --

M: You said for about two years --

D: -- and I don't think that's the case.

W: Okay, that's totally my recollection since the period preceding -- whatever the campaign was during the first George Bush administration. But that didn't particularly matter to me. It profoundly hurt my feelings, and embarrassed me in front of my wife and kid, and I was just surprised. I was totally surprised.

D: Uh-huh.

W: And I understand that it is a seriously emotional issue and stuff, and, uhm . . . It came up in conversation with some of my other writer friends, who run the spectrum from liberal to conservative, and virtually all of them said, "You know, this has happened to me with my parents over the last few years, also." As the country has become so polarized, and as the news media and the talk radio audiences have become so polarized, and especially -- and a lot of them, regardless of political ideology, laid a lot of blame at the feet of Karl Rove and talk radio, for doing this 'divide and conquer' thing.

So everyone said I should write about it, because everyone has had an experience similar to this, and maybe it will start up a dialogue, about talk radio, and it will start up a dialogue about where political discourse is. And it did, and the only negative feedback I got -- other than from you guys -- was from people who called me a wimpy liberal for not supporting the death penalty. So my goals were not to, um, defame you guys, or to do anything like that. It was to write a story that I thought a lot of people could emotionally connect to, about an experience I'd had that I thought a lot of other people had had, and --

[My dad's pager goes off, and he has to deal with some important work things. I am struck by how calm he is, even though, whenever my dad's pager goes off, it's usually a life-or-death moment. My stomach is still in knots, but I'm really glad we're talking.]

M: Hang on for a second.

W: Okay, I'm going to pause this.

[Dad comes back to the table.]

W: So, you know what my goals were, and if I haven't made it clear, I am so so sorry. I am so sorry, and I feel terrible, and my gut told me to call both of you before I turned it in, and talk with you and give you a chance to do things, to --

D: Uh-huh.

W: To, to do things --

M: Uh-huh.

W: And to prevent, uh, you know,

W&D: This.

W: It was a combination of having to make a deadline, and just being pre-Christmas overwhelmed, and also feeling really afraid that you were going to freak out at me the same way you freaked out at me on Family Christmas . . . and it was quite obviously a bad choice to not trust my instincts.

D: Okay. Let me try to address the three things you brought up right now: First of all, when you called me to say "I've got something that's going to be online," I figured there was a reason you put me "on alert" as it were, but I didn't think it was going to be as overboard as it turned out to be in my opinion. Second of all, I apologize -- I asked mom for a reality check, and I said, "Did I really turn into a monster and really unload on Wil?" and she said, "Yeah, well, kinda."

M: Now, wait a second. I said -- what you wrote was very accurate. It was an excellent reporting of what went on, if we're talking about family Christmas.

D: Except Jeremy hadn't put the things on the tracks, yet, in the Christmas village, but I understand you needed to --

M: Oh, come on! I knew what you meant, and I'm really glad you wrote that.

D: Yes, I'm really glad you wrote that. Anyway . . .

W: Well, there goes my credibility.

D: Anyway, in thinking about it after the fact, I was so tired of hearing the Mike Farrells, and the Jamie Foxes of the world trying to excuse Tookie Williams and what he had done, and as I said to you, completely ignoring the families of the victims who were left behind. And I do believe in the death penalty, and . . . uh, there was some uncertainty about what Arnold was going to do, if he was going to roll over to his Hollywood friends and gain the liberal vote, if he tries to re-run, or if he was going to stand true to what he believed. And as it turned out, he did, and he gave eloquent reasons why he did.

W: Didn't he campaign as a death penalty opponent?

D: I don't remember that coming up.

W: I recall him -- well anyway, I could be mistaken.

D: Anyway, so, I realized that, when mom said, "Yeah, you were a jerk," [he laughs] that I was disagreeing with you, but the over the top was just my frustration with your peer group -- your former peer group -- "the Hollywood crowd" [laughs, harder].

W: [laughs] The Hollywood crowd has never been my peer group!

M: [laughs]

D: [laughs] I know! I know! Okay . . . that's why I said that in quotes  . . . trying to excuse this man because he's written some books. And I was truly concerned that they were going to hold sway, which was, I believe, totally wrong. So, I didn't mean to embarrass you, or Anne, or Nolan, okay? And that was not my intent. And we can talk about politics -- and you and I disagree more than you and mom disagree --

M: Which is to say that your dad and I disagree --

W: But you know, my whole thing about the death penalty was not that Tookie Williams was some great guy who should get off, absolutely not. I don't believe that at all.

D: I know that. And I told mom that I knew you were not defending Tookie Williams. That was not my understanding at all.

W: And my disagreement with the death penalty is that if the state makes a mistake, it can't be undone.

M: Unless the state hasn't made a mistake in the first place.

W: And the states that have it, have the highest homicide rates, so it doesn't work. It only exists to exact some sort of societal revenge.

M: And in the case of Tookie Williams, it created a martyr.

W: And maybe it will end up dissuading kids from entering gangs. I don't know.

D: I doubt that, based upon --

M: And they compared him to Rosa Parks!

W: And I was never saying that this guy was a good person. My whole thought was that, any time a case arises that makes people think, as a society, should we support the death penalty, there should be a dialogue, but because of talk radio, there can't be. And it's not possible, and I believe that it's not possible, because in my experience, supporters or capital punishment almost always base their support on emotion, and opponents base their arguments on statistics and logic. But the emotional pull is so strong -- and I am definitely guilty of this where my kids are concerned: when emotion and logic conflict where you feel strongly about something, emotion always wins.

D: Well, I don't know about the nationwide statistics, but since the death penalty was instituted in California, there have been twelve executions, and eight of them have been whites. So this blanket statement --

M: And where was Mike Farrell then?

D: --that it's only Blacks and poors are singled out is just wrong.

W: Maybe not in California, but absolutely in the rest of the country.

D: Right. And I've heard of cases where the defense attorney has been asleep at the table, or they get a public defender who decides that the guy is guilty, so they're not going to mount a vigorous defense.

W: Would you agree that there's a problem with the legal system where your class affects your chances of getting a truly fair trial.

D: I don't know. Ask OJ. [laughs]

W: Well, there you go. So that's one of the reasons I don't support the death penalty. If it's -- I don't think there's any problem with putting people away from the rests of their lives without the possibility of parole, and I don't think that prisons should be a vacation. Oh! And I got lots of letters from prison guards who were very unhappy with me for saying that inmates were beaten, and they said that was something I saw on TV, and they were right. I should have talked to prison guards before I wrote that, too. The point is, it shouldn't be a good time.

D: But it's not a bad time, either.

M: Did you hear about the guy from San Quentin who had been there for 28 years?

D: He's the public relations officer now.

M: He said that Tookie Williams was still connected to the Crips from inside prison. And one of his books was dedicated to a current big wig of the Crips. So even if he's in prison, he can still wield a lot of power, see, and that's the truth with organized crime, too.

W: So he deserves to die because of that?

M: No, no. But, when -- it makes it sound very final when you say they are locked away without any possibility of parole, that they still can have sort of this outside life, you know.

W: Okay.

M: They have a lot of freedoms.

D: And they are alive when they have taken an innocent life from someone who did not deserve to die. That doesn't seem fair.

M: But you're not here to debate the death penalty. You're here so --

D: Let's, let's move on.

W: Okay.

D: You really mischaractarized me about Rush and Bill O'Reilly. I rarely listen to either of them, and --

[The phone rings. It's my sister, telling my dad that the surf is so huge in Ventura County, they are towing surfers out using wave runners. As long as I can remember, if any of us needs an excuse to call dad, all we have to do is look at the surf report.]

D: Anyway, I don't listen to Rush, and I don't -- and if I do, it's just in channel surfing, because he is way over the top. And he forces everything into a certain perspective. Much like I feel the people on Air America do. Mom and I listened to Air America once, on our way up to Sacramento [to deal with my grandmother's house after she died earlier this year -- when my dad said that I was reminded what a horrible and tough year he's had, and how the last thing he really needed was public humiliation at the hands of his idiot son.] -- and this was when Bill Bennet said that thing about Blacks and about abortions, and he gave the analogy that if --

W: Yeah, I know what you're talking about.

D: And it was Al Franken, and I forget who else, and they were completely twisting what he said, to bend it to their purpose, to their agenda.

M: They kept playing the same sound bite over and over again, and we kept listening, you know, to see if they'd get to the bottom of this, to the meat of what it was about, but they kept playing the sound byte over and over again, and it was edited, and it wasn't true.

D: It was inaccurate.

M: It wasn't true.

W: I remember that, and I agree with you. It was taken out of context, and I wish you'd listened on a different day!

D: I do listen to Dennis Prager, and Dennis is conservative, but middle-of-the-road conservative, and I believe that he thinks out his positions very clearly, and he is more interested in truth than a political agenda.

M: He's interested in the morality of things. The moral consequences of behavior.

W: What is his position on the Bush Administration?

D: Uh, that they've done some things good, and some things bad.

M: He doesn't talk that much about it.

D: And Sean Hannity: I listened to Sean more during the election, but since, uh, Sean is, in my opinion,  a notch or two below Rush. He is well-meaning, and he believes what he says for the most part, but again he is bending things through his own prism to bring things into his point of view.  I do a lot of reading in the Sunday opinion section in the Times, and I try to get multiple points of view, so . . . I don't rely on Rush and Bill to tell me what to think. That, that was what really hurt me. I felt that I was really mischaractarized.

[I looked into my father's eyes as he said, in effect, "you really hurt me," and I felt a shame, and a regret, and a disgust with myself that I've never felt before and hope to never feel again.]

M: And we don't form our opinions based upon FOX News.

W: I wrote those observations based upon coming up here during the election, and FOX News being on in your house all the time.

M: You know when FOX News was on? During the hurricane.

W: During the 2004 election, I saw FOX News on in your house all the time.

D: No! You're mistaken! It was never on.

W: But I remember it being on.

D: [laughs] You have to stop smoking the crack.

W: I saw it. I'm pretty sure John Gibson is on FOX News.

D: I don't even know who John Gibson is. Your mother is the news junkie who will watch the news for three hours straight.

W: If that's the case, I don't know how I made such a glaring error, and it's a terrible terrible mistake, because it's almost like there are two kinds of conservatives: rational conservatives, and then you have the FOX News, Rush Limbaugh conservatives, who are -- I think accurately -- described as "Wingnuts."

D: Uh-huh.

W: And it was absolutely not my intention to describe you as wingnuts, and I can see now that is exactly what I did. And I don't think that you are!

D: Well, that's a comfort. [laughs]

M: I think of myself as a moderate, and dad is to the Right of me.

D: Yes, I am more conservative.

M: But you have to remember that  a lot of that is because of owning a small business, and as I told you the other night, that's our American Dream.

W: I know! I grew up with you guys building your business, and you know that if you tried to start a business today, because of the policies and tax codes and things from George Bush and this Republican Congress, you would have a very hard time getting started. You wouldn't be able to compete with bigger businesses, especially being in the health care industry. You wouldn't be able to compete with bigger health care companies.

D: That's wrong. I disagree.

W: You don't think it would be harder to compete with companies who are huge and have huge lobbies in congress?

D: Not in my business.

[I realize that I've made yet another huge assumption, and I don't have the solid facts to back up what I'm pretty sure is accurate. I realize that I've fallen into the trap I often accuse others of falling into: I've developed a point of view, and all I can remember is the feeling that it's correct. Who would know whether their business could succeed? My parents, who own it, and run it day to day, or their son who has no clue? I am disgusted by my immature, narrow-minded arrogance.]

W: Okay.

M: But it is getting harder, this has been a very hard year, because of our worker's comp and malpractice going through the roof.

W: Okay, so during the election, when current events happened, and we talked about them, uh -- I've been trying to recall some specifics, but I can't come up with any, which I guess undermines my credibility on this, but it seemed to me that --

[Dad's phone rings again.]

D: That my phone would ring again?

W: Yeah.

[Dad takes another call about work, and sends an employee to work at a hospital.]

W: Okay. So During the 2004 election, when current events came up, and campaign things came up in discussion, my recollection is that when I talked about those things with you guys, your responses were the same things that were discussed on talk radio, which seemed to boil down to whatever the Bush campaign talking points were. And based on my apparently incorrect recollection of FOX News being on the television when I came up here -- and I just know that it was --

M: Maybe it was on a few times, and it obviously made an impression upon you.

D: You were traumatized by it. [laughs]

W: And getting into your car when we were going to baseball games, there was always one of those talking guys on the radio.

M: That was Dodger Talk.

D: Yeah, that was Vin Scully.

M&D: [Laughs]

W: It was 87 something on the radio.

D: That would have been Dennis Prager, or maybe [ominously] "Sean Hannity."

[My dad, even in what is clearly a painful moment for both of us, never gives up his sense of humor. When I was a teenager, and took myself /so seriously/ it drove me crazy. Now, though, I love it. My stomach is still in knots, but they're beginning to loosen.]

W: What I should have done is fact-checked that with you both, to make sure. But during that time, and correct me if I'm mistaken, during that time, when the White House was selling this line that Saddam Hussein financed the World Trade Center attacks, which was widely disproved, all over the world, even then, it seemed to me that once the talking point came out of the white house or out of the campaign, even if if was disproved, that you guys discarded any of the evidence or arguments against whatever the White House said. And, uhm, so, I absolutely made the assumption, which is clearly incorrect, that the belief that you guys formed and adhered to, was supported  by hearing it repeated on talk radio, and seeing it repeated on cable news. Does that make sense?

D: It makes sense, but I don't think it's completely accurate. I decided early on that I didn't want to see John Kerry in the White house.

W: Well, John Kerry was a terrible candidate, right behind Lieberman.

D: It made no difference what either side said, I would never cast my vote for John Kerry, so a lot of it is just like water under the bridge for me, the things that were said.

W: I so want to understand this. When I was growing up, the values you instilled in all of us, the strongest one, the one that still drives most of the decisions I make, is based on support for the civil rights movement. And was all based on tolerance and equality, and --

D: That hasn't changed.

W: But it so strongly seems to me that the current Republican leadership in congress and in the state of California, seem so totally opposed to those values: the values of equality and tolerance and civil rights, and, uh, seem to have such an enormous credibility problem. How can you support them?

D: I don't agree with that en todo. My feeling is that the Barbara Boxers of the world want to give everything to people who don't work for what they have. They want to take our tax dollars and your tax dollars and give them away to other people.

W: But George Bush has taken your tax dollars, and given them to people who have so much money already, they don't know what to do with that.

D: See, we disagree on that.

M: See, now that's a Democratic talking point.

W: No it's not, it's the congressional budget office. [That's wrong: I should have said Internal Revenue Service. What I meant was that I didn't form my opinion of Bush's tax plans from Democratic talking points, but from independent research.]

D: Those rich people have already given so much to this country through their taxes, and I agree that, um, there are loopholes where they're able to avoid taxation on some of their money, and I think that something should be done on that. But when people work hard for their money, it's not right for the government to turn around and say, "you busted your ass for all this money, now give it to all these people, because they choose not to work, because they choose to have children without a father, because they come into the country illegally." Mom and I are not happy about what Bush has done with the illegals in this country  --

M: We discussed that the other night, Wil. [Where mom and I agreed that business owners who hire and exploit illegal immigration for cheap labor -- especially in California farming -- should be prosecuted, so the conditions which make illegal immigration favorable would weaken.]

W: So redistribution of wealth downward is bad, but redistribution of wealth upward is good?

D: It's not redistribution! It was their money to begin with. It's their money because they earned it.

W: I'm talking about the shifting of the tax burden. The tax burden, under George Bush, has shifted dramatically to middle-class tax payers. So people who are earning between, I think it's 70,000 and 190,000 a year as a household, are shouldering a larger percentage of the tax burden, based upon their income, than people who are earning over 200,000 a year, and they are shouldering a greater percentage of the burden than the people who are earning over a million a year.

D: Of course they are. That's simple percentages. Because if someone is making -- like, to make that equitable, Bill Gates would have to pay billions in taxes a year.

W: Well, of course there should be a cap on taxes, and I'm not talking about Socialism, but under this tax code, we -- and I think we're still in the same tax bracket -- we are paying more of our income in taxes than people who are earning two and three times what we are earning. And if the tax code is in fact a progressive tax code, where the idea is to tell people, "okay, to reach this level of success, you were able to reap the benefits of the society others helped to build, so now you need to help contribute to the infrastructure so that others have opportunities, too." If that's the case, it seems really unfair to me to put so much of the tax burden on the middle class, and certainly not on the working poor.

M: I agree with that.

W: It's gone overwhelmingly to the middle class. Under Bush, the tax burden has shifted onto us, and tax breaks and revenue redistribution has gone upward.

M: And in a similar situation, what do the Democrats want to do with our tax dollars?

W: What do you mean?

M: You said that under Bush, the middle class has shouldered more of the tax burden, and I actually believe that the middle class has always shouldered most of the tax burden.

W: But it didn't under Bill Clinton. And I'm not making that up.

M: So if a Democratic administration was in the White House, how would it be different?

W: We wouldn't have the deficit we have. I don't believe that if the Democrats controlled the government the way the Republicans do, and the Republicans are really in the driver's seat right now, you wouldn't see the tax breaks for the ultra-rich. I'm not talking about people who have worked so hard to have what they have, either, I'm talking about inherited wealth. I don't think we'd have the enormous budget problems that we have, and we'd probably see something like what Clinton did: raise taxes a bit on the wealthiest of people, and give relief to the middle class and the working poor. I don't believe in this idea --  that Ronald Reagan sold so successfully -- that there is an epidemic of shiftless jerks who just want to get rich off of your hard work, and the Democrats are going to help them do that.

M: Well, there are more social programs under Democrats than Republicans. And it seems like there's an awful lot of abuse of those programs.

W: Of course there is, and it's pretty easy to go through reams of data and pull out fifty or one hundred jerks who are breaking the law. You can do that in either direction, rich or poor -- a dishonest person is a dishonest person regardless of income. What is confusing to me is that you guys have worked so hard to have what you have, and you deserve your success, but under George Bush, you're paying more in taxes than we ever have, and it is unlikely that burden will be reduced while the Republicans control things. It seems like you're voting against your best interests.

D: I think that's not the whole picture, and you have to take the bitter with the sweet. And I have a conservative philosophy that's opposed to the liberal philosophy, and I'm not happy about having to pay more taxes, and I'm not happy -- I thought that, under Bush, the government would be made much smaller, but it hasn't. It's gotten much larger than it ever has been, and I don't know how that happened because it runs counter to the conservative ideals. But at the end of the day, I am conservative, and I believe the conservative philosophy more than I do the liberal philosophy, and you have to take the lumps with the sugar.

For the next forty minutes, we talked about the differences between Democrats and Republicans, conservatives and liberals, Clinton and Bush. We did it respectfully, quietly, honestly, and openly. It was about as far removed from talk radio as you can get, and the man I was talking with was not the man I portrayed in my essay. When I left, I felt closer to my dad than I have in years, despite all our political differences.

I'm really glad that I talked with my parents, but I still feel that I've dishonored my family, and given the entire world an incorrect view of my father. It was unfair and irresponsible of me to publish my assumptions publicly without giving him a chance to correct them privately. My dad is an incredible person, and I owe him much more than this.

I imagine that this will get reprinted around the conservative world the way my original essay was reprinted around the liberal world, and I will almost certainly be excoriated for this, which I certainly deserve. If that's what it takes for my parents' to have their names cleared, and to correct the impression I gave about my dad, I am more than willing to take whatever criticism I get. I should be boycotted, and if there was some way I could resign over this, I would. I made an incredibly irresponsible choice, based out of stupid fear, to not talk with my parents before my article ran. I can not unring that bell, but I hope that by letting them speak, in their own words, the image I created of them can be corrected. I have learned a valuable lesson, I just wish the cost of that lesson hadn't been my family's honor and my parents' dignity. I am deeply ashamed of myself.

I ran this past my parents before I published it. They expressed some concern that they would be quoted out of context, or attacked for their beliefs, and suggested I keep our conversation between us. But I think they make a great case for their beliefs, even if I disagree with them, and I wanted them to have an opportunity to speak for themselves. I elected to leave it as-is, because I suspect that my parents (both Boomers) reflect beliefs that are fairly common among conservatives in their generation, and liberals of my generation who don't have the ability or opportunity (for whatever reason) to talk with their parents could get a good idea of where people like my parents are coming from. I think it also shows how totally wrong I was in my original essay: we had a long conversation about several potentially-explosive topics, but the bonds of love and family which tie us together are stronger than the differences Talk Radio would use to divide us. My mom said that she doesn't want to feel like she has to defend herself via my blog for anything, and I don't think she does. She also wanted everyone to know that she forgives me, "just like all the other times you did something stupid . . . that's a joke, Wil . . . the part about doing stupid things, not the part about forgiving you." She also said that I was a good writer, which she sort of has to say because she's my mom. My dad said that it means a lot to him and my mom that I was "adult enough, and man enough to care about our feelings, and discuss this with us," and if I was really such an environmentalist, I wouldn't have written something that took an entire tree to print out . . . which was also a joke. I'm glad my parents both still have their sense of humor, even now.

If you linked to my essay at Salon, please link to this as well. My parents shouldn't have to suffer any more than they have because of my irresponsibility.

Posted by Wil at 5:21 PM | Permalink | Comments (128) | TrackBacks (9)

It's been quite some time since we checked in on the blog battle that pits Awesome Good Guys Shane and Wil against Evil Bet Losing Queen of Anti-Awesome and Jesus' Favorite, Annie.

If you're new to this epic saga, which will one day replace the Lord of the Rings with its pure epic awesomeness, the short version goes something like this:

INT. RESTAURANT - LATE NIGHT
Shane, Wil, and Annie have finished their sketch comedy show, and are enjoying some drinks to celebrate how awesome they are. Shane and Wil drink manly beers. Annie drinks some lame girly shit. Shane and Wil have an erudite discussion about the complexities of online poker, and the challenges and rewards inherent in blogging.

Shane: And that is why, Wil, I feel blogging is both challenging and rewarding.

Wil: That was quite an erudite observation, Shane.

Annie: YOU GUYS ARE TOTALLY GAY AND LAME AND YOU SUCK AND YOU SMELL AND BLOGS ARE STUPID!!

Shane and Wil share a look. They've heard it all before.

Shane: Annie, please, don't make a scene.

Wil: Yes, we bloggers are a refined bunch, and carry ourselves thusly.

Wil straightens his back, and preens.

Wil: Yes, blogging is quite lovely, and it fills me with joy to bring enlightenment and diversion to such a great many people.

Shane: I'm ever so pleased that we are bloggers, old chum.

Wil: As am I, my good friend. As am I.

Annie: OH MY GOD YOU GUYS ARE SO TOTALLY RETARDED! YOU GUYS ARE ALL 'HEY! LOOK AT US WITH OUR BLOGS!' BLOG RHYMES WITH LOG WHICH RHYMES WITH HOMOLOVERGAYFACE!

Shane: Annie, my dear, I'm sure you'd be a splendid blogger, if you'd just give it a go.

Wil: Indeed.

Annie: NO WAY! NO WAY AM I GETTING ON YOUR NERD BUS AND RIDING IT ALL THE WAY TO GEEK TOWN WITH A STOP AT THE STAR TREK CONVENTION AND THE COMIC BOOK SHOP! I HAVE MODERN DANCE EXERCISES TO DO, YOU NERDHOLES!

Wil: Annie, I propose a contest of wits and skill. If I win, you keep a blog for seven short days. If you win, I'll tell you that great secret you've wanted to know for so long.

Annie: You mean . . . you'll tell me your middle name?

Annie clutches her hands to her chest, and swoons. Wil and Shane look at one another, surprised that Annie has stopped screaming, and didn't imply that they were lovers.

Shane: Brilliant idea, man!

Wil: Yes, I learned it whilst blogging.

Annie: I accept! What's your contest?

Wil: RoShamBo.

Annie: OH MY GOD I AM TOTALLY THE MASTER OF ROSHAMBO! I AM GOING TO KICK YOUR NERD ASS ALL THE WAY BACK TO THE DEATH STAR!

Wil (quietly to Shane): She's throwing scissors.

Shane (quietly to Wil): Indeed. She's as transparent as an rss-scraped splog.

Wil looks at Annie: Are you ready, my most worthy adversary?

Annie: OH YES I AM! I NEVER LOST ANYTHING TO NERDS LIKE YOU!

Wil: Then this will be the most delicious of contests. Ready now.

Wil puts his fist into his open palm. Annie does the same.

Wil: One! Two! Three!

In slow motion, the camera tracks a close up of Annie's fist as it drops from her shoulder out of frame.

MATCH CUT: Wil's hand does the same.

MATCH CUT: ECU on Annie's face.

MATCH CUT: ECU on Wil's face.

CUT TO: ECU of Wil's hand. He shows Rock.

CUT TO: ECU of Annie's hand. She shows Scissors.

ECU of Annie's face, as it twists from triumph, to shock, to rage, to desperation.

BACK TO SCENE.

Wil: Good try, Annie. I must have gotten lucky when I chose rock against your scissors. Oh well, that's the way, isn't it? I'm looking forward to reading your blog.

Annie: Oh god no! I can't do it! I don't know how to blog! I'm scared of blogs! I'm scared of nerds and computers and things I don't understand! All I want to do is modern interpretive dance, and maybe some mummenschanz! Please don't make me do it! I can't be like you!

Annie is reduce to a pathetic, quivering mass on the restaurant's table.

Shane: Oh, dear. Dear. Dear. Dear. This will never do.

Shane takes a camera from his pocket, and snaps a picture of Annie's shameful display.

Shane: Annie, I'm afraid that if you welch on the bet, I'll be forced to post this snap of your shameful display on my world-famous blog at www.nickerblog.com, where I look ever so rugged and manly on the masthead.

Wil: Or perhaps I'll be forced to post it at my award-winning blog at wilwheaton.net, where I can't blog right now because I'm having too much fun posting at my equally-popular blog wilwheaton.typepad.com.

Annie pulls herself together.

Annie: How did you do that?

Shane: Do what?

Annie: How did you make a link when you talk?

Shane: Oh, it's quite elementary when you're a blogger, Annie.

Wil: Yes, quite.

Shane: Quite!

Wil: Quite.

Annie: Okay, okay, okay. You win. I'll keep my blog. It will be at jesusfavorite.typead.com.

Wil: Don't you mean jesusfavorite.typepad.com?

Shane: Now, my good man, you needn't mock the poor girl when she's down. Give her time to learn.

Wil: You're right. My apologies, Annie.

Annie: Apologies?

Wil: Apologies.

The camera slowly pulls back from the table, through the window, and into the street. The rest of the storefronts are dark, and only the restaurant casts light onto the sidewalk. A car drives past in the foreground, and we

FADE TO BLACK.

Well, that's the way I remember it, anyway. Annie has a slightly different recollection of that fateful night, but the details aren't that important. What is important, is that Annie has kept her blog, even if she doesn't update it nearly as regularly as she should, and filled it with hilarious visions from her twisted imagination:

While Shane and Wil are busy watching 'nerdia' for the 18th million time today, and planning their poker poopy party in Vegas...Jesus' favorite is busy plotting her next move.

Never fear nerdy Mc Nerd-O-Sins, I'm not scared of your lame threats. 

wil writes: 
"We're coming for you, Annie. We have a +3 cape of kicking your ass, and a scroll of Hawesome. You'd better make your save vs. nerds, or you're totally going to lose a level."

Ohhhhh......you have '+3 capes?' Is one of them Harry's invisibility cloak? Please no. Do you have McGonagles underwear in there too? I'm sooooo scared. 'A scroll of Hawesome?' I have a scroll of 'REAL ENGLISH WORDS.' And oh, what does it say?

COMPUTING....

...boo bitty blah blah bicko bicko jabba the hut in your butt deep pitty peep peep i do podcasts blackey blacky blacky full house double down i'm in vegas i love wil look at the hookers my name is shane i'm on hiatus clackity mc nugget pants...

Oh Annie. Oh dear, sweet, lovely, talented, tap-dancing Annie. I tried to warn you. Never bring a knife to a gun fight.

Elbow.

And.

Send.

Posted by Wil at 12:16 PM | Permalink | Comments (26)

I can't believe it's already Christmas Eve. It seems like just a week ago, there were six shopping days
until Christmas . . . where does the time go?

Anne and I finished our shopping yesterday, including a frenzied trip to the mall, where I learned that people who waited until the last minute to buy clothes aren't exactly rational when the store doesn't have the size they wanted, and tend to freak out at the cashier, as if the cashier conspired to keep that pair of size four jeans available until seconds before Angry Shopper wanted them.

I also learned that there is some serious plague out there in the shopping areas, because I woke up this morning with a bitch of a sore throat and a pretty severe sinus thing. Merry Christmas to me.

The kids are with their dad tonight, so Christmas won't actually be Christmas until they get home tomorrow afternoon (parents will understand what I mean, you non-kidlet-having types may not, but that's okay, because it's Christmas.) Tonight, we're headed up to my mom and dad's house to have dinner with them and my siblings. Chance of watching A Christmas Story is set at about 99%.

I hope everyone who celebrates it has a very merry Christmas. For everyone else, I hope you have a wonderful weekend. And to everyone, regardless of anything, I wish you all the peace, prosperity, and joy the world has to offer.

Posted by Wil at 4:17 PM | Permalink | Comments (42) | TrackBacks (1)

I came home early from the WPBT Winter Classic in Las Vegas, so I could attend the annual Wheaton Family Christmas at my parents' house.

I absolutely adore my family, and I will drop just about anything so I can attend a family get together. The fact that it's Christmas just gave me an excuse to bring a really stupid White Elephant gift, and gave my brother an excuse to make his world famous Brined Barbecue Turkey.

This year's Wheaton Family Christmas was exactly like any other of the always-awesome Wheaton Family Christmas (WFC?) gatherings, with one exception that was so painful, I wrote an essay about it for Salon.com called The Real War on Christmas

This year it looked as though it would be a typical family gathering. But that all changed when I walked through the living room on my way to get some eggnog. I asked my younger sister, who was flipping through the channels on the television, what she was looking for.

"I'm trying to find Court TV," she said.

"Why?" I said.

"Because the governor is supposed to announce whether he is granting clemency for Tookie Williams at 3 p.m.," she said.

I was surprised to hear she cared, because my sister has always been pretty nonpolitical. "I don't think he will grant clemency...," I began to say. But before I could add, "because he's going to try to win back his hardcore base with this," she spat at me, "He'd better not!"

My sister was a death-penalty proponent? That was news to me. I didn't want to upset the family gathering, so I decided to just let this one go.

"OK," I said, "I guess we'd better not talk about this."

But just then, my father walked into the room.

"Wil thinks Tookie Williams shouldn't be executed," she said.

Oh boy.

"What?" My dad said. Not to my sister, to me.

Here we go.

"Well," I said, "I don't believe in the death penalty, so..."

You know those optical illusion drawings, where you're looking at a smiling man, then suddenly he's become a werewolf? Faster than you could say "Fox News," my dad was screaming at me, Bill O'Reilly-style.

"... an eye for an eye and a tooth for a tooth! He killed four..." he stabbed at the air with four fingers on his left hand, "four people in cold blood and deserves! to! die!"

I briefly made eye contact with my stepson, Nolan, who sat just behind my father on my parents' couch. His face flushed and he quickly looked away. My sister had stopped her channel surfing on a shopping network, and he looked awfully interested in putting a sapphire ring on easy-pay. While my dad continued to scream about biblical vengeance, I went into shock. Just minutes earlier, we'd stood together outside on the deck and laughed with each other as he congratulated me for a great finish I'd had the previous day at a poker tournament in Las Vegas. In fact, I'd cut my trip short, specifically so I wouldn't miss the family Christmas.

What a difference five minutes makes. While he screamed at me, I wanted to ask, "Who are you, and what have you done with the man who raised me to be tolerant, patient, peaceful and charitable?" Instead, I said, as calmly as I could, "Dad, I just don't believe in the death penalty. It is unevenly applied to poor people, and clearly doesn't work as a deterrent..."

"It doesn't work as a deterrent because they allow these scum to stay alive for 25 years before they give them what they deserve!" I hadn't seen my dad this angry since I was a sophomore in high school and my friends and I woke up my mom after midnight one night because we got a little worked up in a Nintendo game of "Blades of Steel."

"Dad," I said, "living in prison for 25 years isn't anything to be happy about..."

"Like hell it isn't!" he bellowed. "They get satellite television, and weights, and free meals, and jobs, and a library..."

"And raped, and beaten by guards, and sold as slaves by prison gangs," I said. "That really sounds good to you? Because it sounds like a pretty lousy life for violent criminals, which is exactly what they deserve."

He violently shook his head at me and drew a deep breath. "The victims' families get to watch that animal die! If they don't get to watch him die, how can they get the closure they deserve?" Before I could reply, and he could launch into another round of talking points, I was unintentionally saved by my brother, who called our dad to come outside and help him with the turkey on the barbecue.

He turned quickly, and stormed out of the room, followed by my sister.

To read the rest, you can get a free day pass to Salon by watching a quick advertisement. (Make sure you have cookies enabled.) You'll also get access to everything else that Salon offers for the day, too. I've been a subscriber for years, and my Salon subscription has out-lasted subscriptions to Harper's, Esquire, and The New Yorker, for what that's worth.

I hope you'll take the time to read the rest of my essay, and share your own stories about The War on Christmas (from whatever side you're on.)

I'm pretty sure this will stir up some very powerful emotions. Please think carefully before you post your comments.

Posted by Wil at 9:38 PM | Permalink | Comments (127) | TrackBacks (5)

If you grok Farkisms, you'll love this animation, and the fark nativity.

If you like to play in the Thursday Night WWdN game at PokerStars, it's set up and ready to go at 7:30 PST tonight.

Posted by Wil at 4:36 PM | Permalink | Comments (9)

Carly gets a letter from the DMV:

Dear California Driver

Dear form letter!

Drivers with crashes and traffic convictions on their records are at greater risk at causing future crashes. Your recent record of bad driving (see below) places you at increased risk of causing crashes, injury and death. We do not want you to suffer those consequences and we want you to avoid them.

Okay. First of all, it was hardly a crash so much as it was a fender bender, but we all know the story on that one (and yes, my insurance company was faulted. Hooray!) Second of all, it was a speeding ticket that I got seven months prior to that little mash. Before that, I had maybe one other ticket in my entire California driving career. That’s it. And now I’m on the list of Drivers With the Potential to Cause Vehicular Manslaughter?

[. . .]

While you may be a good and safe driver most of the time, your record reflects at least momentary lapses in driving judgment.

No shit. That’s why they’re called “accidents” and “I’m sorry, officer, I didn’t know how fast I was going.” What can I say? This year was a bad year that I don’t intend to repeat.

At highway speeds, a moment of carelessness might become a tragedy. Good, caring people who make careless decisions while driving can cause injury or death.

I know, mom.

In our effort to urge you to drive safer, we are offering you a choice. You can choose to prevent further action from the DMV by avoiding additional traffic convictions and by not causing any crashes.

Oh my god… it’s genius! I never thought of that before! Thank you, DMV, for pointing out the obvious! If you hadn’t have said that, I’d be driving over medians and plowing into school kids right now!

It's kind of pretty awesome that Californians can now enjoy the irritation and idiocy of the DMV, right from the comfort of our own mailboxes. It's twice as kind of pretty awesome that Carly can make me laugh this hard.

Posted by Wil at 1:05 PM | Permalink | Comments (26)

We sat outside on the cafe's patio, and talked about the things writers talk about. We made notes in our respective Molskine notebooks. Though clouds obscured the moon much of the night, the air was cold and dry.

My friend is far more successful than I am, and I should feel awkward, like the rookie we both know I am, but our relative levels of success don't matter to either of us. We both share a passion for creating, for telling stories, for putting you where we are, and keeping you interested enough to turn the page.

As I emptied my second mug of chamomile, a group of young Mediterranean men walked out onto the patio, and filled a table behind us. They broke out a backgammon board, and started to play. Across from them, a group of older Mediterranean men smoked cigars and sipped espresso. The young men shared complicated handshakes and slammed their dice cups onto the table, while the older men said very little, and thoughtfully blew clouds of fragrant blue smoke at each other. I wrote in my notebook, "They looked at each other; into the future and into the past."

Two girls in their early twenties sat at a table next to us, and gossiped. I wrote, "She just realized how big it all is, and she is terrified."

Groups of teenagers drifted in and out. All drank huge coffee drinks. Some smoked cigarettes. Many wore Ugg boots, an equal number wore flip-flops. Most intermittently talked on cell phones. I wrote, "They are happy to be here. If you asked them where they were, they would tell you, 'not at home!'"

My friend and I traded stories until the exhausted cafe workers closed the umbrellas and began to stack chairs. I would have written something in my notebook, but that was our cue to leave.

We gathered up our things, and said good bye. I drove home 'round midnight.

Posted by Wil at 1:07 AM | Permalink | Comments (17)

Today is the first Tuesday edition of the Friday Game. Since I didn't play last week, and was therefore unable to be knocked out by someone, I decided to make good on a threat I issued at the WPBT Winter Classic, and named this week's game after the blogfather himself, Iggy.

What: WWdN: Bonus Code IGGY Invitational
Where: PokerStars.
When: Tuesday December 20th. 7:00 PM EST
Password: monkey
Tournament number: 16742725
Buy-in: $10+1

We are already in our ninth week, which just blows me away. It rules the most that these tourneys continue to draw as many players as they do. Like PokerGeek said, "It's the world's biggest homegame."

Last week, I mentioned that a major announcement regarding the tournaments would come out, and sugggested that wild and rampant speculation should immediately ensue. Well, the speculation wasn't particularly wild or rampant, which I'll chalk up to holiday exhaustion, rather than a soul-crushing lack of enthusiasm, but here's the news:

Every player who wins one of the Tuesday Night WWdN Invitationals will be freerolled by PokerStars into a WWdN Tournament Of Champions Sit-N-Go, where they'll get to play against me for some serious money. A PokerStars table seats nine players, so every eight weeks, we'll play a WWdN:ToC where I will join the eight weekly champions to crown the Super Mega Totally Awesome Champion. Since we have eight winners already, I'll work with PokerStars to schedule the first WWdN:ToC in the very near future.

I will be live blogging tonight's game at CardSquad, so if check it out if you're into that sort of thing. I hope to see lots of players tonight!

Posted by Wil at 10:38 AM | Permalink | Comments (15)

I read in a couple of blogs last week that some poker pros are unhappy with the release the World Poker Tour requires them to sign before they can play in WPT events.

So I called up Chris Ferguson, who I'd heard is unable to play in WPT events due to the scope of the current release, got some comments from him and wrote an article about it for CardSquad.

These days, when you sign up for a poker tournament, in addition to plunking down your buy-in and flashing your ID, you often have to sign a release. In fact, for any televised tournament, including World Poker Tour events, if you refuse to sign the release, you won't be allowed to play. This has created some tension between the World Poker Tour and some of the top tournament players in the world, who who can't -- or won't -- agree to the WPT's terms.

[. . .]

[T]he player the WPT may miss the most is 2000 World Series of Poker Champion   Chris "Jesus" Ferguson. I caught Chris a few minutes before a tournament last Thursday, and he told me, "The release has gotten worse over time, and I simply can't sign it." He explained that the WPT release is so broad, it asks for rights Chris is not legally able to relenquish. "I have business deals that prevent me signing this release," He said.

Some Internet commentors have been critical of the pros, suggesting that they wouldn't be in this position if television hadn't made them famous, but Chris said, "I'm not asking for money, just the right to control my image outside the program." He reminded me that in tournament poker, the players put up all the money for the prize pool, in addition to paying for the rake. "In no other sport do participants put up [as much money as poker players do] for the events," he said, and that's a major point of contention for some players, who feel that they are taking all of the financial risk while the WPT profits from their tournament participation.

Commenting is currenty hosed at CardSquad (probably because they are associated with me, and we all know how technology breaks whenever I get too close to it -- NASA calls me before an important space probe launch, just so I won't do something crazy like think about it) so feel free to comment on it here.

The story has also made it to digg, even though it doesn't say anything about the Xbox, haxxoring [whatever] or contain a top ten list. So check me out! I'm totally doing journalism . . .ish . . . things.

I'm grows up and grows up and grows up! Yeeehhhaaahahahahaaa!

Posted by Wil at 5:02 PM | Permalink | Comments (10)

My WPBT Trip Report is currrently under construction [insert totally awesome 1996 .gif of a man with a shovel on a yellow diamond here. It's retro-ironicool!] but I came across a photo that so perfectly captures my Friday night at MGM, I had to post it right now.

This comes from Flickr, via CujoFan's blog. You will note that, even though I had position on Paul Phillips, he still managed to make me his bitch, which is probably easy when I'm playing near my gulp limit, and he's playing below his "guess what I found under a couch cushion" limit.

I guess it goes without saying that Paul is a remarkable poker player . . . but until you've sat with him, and watched him completely pwn a table, you have no idea how scary good he actually is. Paul has said that he's just about finished playing poker, which is a real shame. He could utterly destroy just about any WSOP field he enters, and I'd like to see him take at least one bracelet before he retires.

Posted by Wil at 10:50 AM | Permalink | Comments (9) | TrackBacks (2)

After two awesome months, I'm moving the WWdN Friday game at PokerStars to Tuesday, where it will henceforth be known as "The WWdN Friday Game On Tuesday."

Just kidding. It will be "The WWdN: [Donkey who outdrew me because I am so awesome] Invitational."

I'm moving it to Tuesdays in anticipation of SciFridays coming back, and so people who don't want to give up their Friday nights to play poker with the most awesome group of future WSOP champions (and Poker Geek) ever assembled can still do so on Tuesdays.

The West Coast Warm-up will still happen at 7:30 PST on Thursdays, and is currently seeking a new name, since it doesn't make a whole lot of sense to warm up for something that happened on Tuesday, unless you're warming up several days in advance, which is a silly way to spend your entire weekend.

So cut-n-paste this as necessary, and spread the word around:

The WWdN Friday game at PokerStars is moving to Tuesday, beginning December 20th. The game will play each week, except in the event of major holidays, starting at 7:00 PM EST. The buy-in will remain at $10+1.

A major announcement related to the Friday-but-now-on-Tuesday tournaments will come out tomorrow. Feel free to speculate wildly, in the hopes that the Associated Press picks up the story and runs with it. Also feel free to tell me I smell good and have nice hair. But don't expect any funny business, because I'm not that kind of date.

Posted by Wil at 5:27 PM | Permalink | Comments (22)

I wanted to do something creative and cool for the booklet that comes with Just A Geek The Audiobook, so I bought a Molskine notebook, and hand-wrote an introduction, the chapter and track listings, and a bunch of liner notes in it. There may also be a few things like the surfer "S", a Van Halen "VH", an actual game of Tic-Tac-Toe that I played with my wife, and some of the other stuff that you typically find on a Pee Chee folder in seventh grade. The idea is that Just A Geek is sort of a journal (all about Star Trek, if you believe the cover and marketing), and I think that this booklet ties in with that theme quite nicely. It's supermegatotallyawesome that I have the creative freedom to layer one creative mini-project over another creative mega-project.

I've finished the art work several times, but when I go to scan it and e-mail it off to the appropriate people, I end up with one of those "Hey, wouldn't it be cool if I just added . . ." moments, and the project keeps growing and growing, so now I have to edit out some of the stuff that it would be "cool if I just added . . ." so I don't have to kick up the cost of the damn thing by twenty bucks to account for my unrestrained creativity. (Unless you really want to purchase the "holy shit I can't believe I paid this much for an audiobook, but Wil Wheaton thanks me for helping him buy a boat" edition.)

I also have to write my trip report from the WPBT Winter Classic in Las Vegas this past weekend, and turn in a Games of our Lives column today, and I hope to record a new episode of RFB before the kids get home from school . . . so I guess I should probably stop blogging and get back to work.

Oh, the whole reason I sat down to write this was to point at this week's Games of our Lives, Satan's Hollow, which I think is pretty funny:

Gameplay: It's 1982, so of course you have to enter Satan's Hollow in a spaceship. To pull this off, you build a bridge across a river of fire by picking up pieces from the left side of the screen and dropping them onto the right side of the screen. You have a shield that will protect you (for about .08 seconds) from the gargoyles and demons dropping World War II-style bombs. When the bridge is completed, you cross into the game's eponymous locale and face down Satan himself. If you avoid his magic pitchforks and destroy him, you won't save mankind from eternal damnation, but you will earn bonus points and an extra laser blaster for your space ship.

Before you complain that none of this makes sense, please remember that the number-one song of 1982 was "Centerfold" by J. Geils Band, and the number-one film was Tootsie.

One final thought before I really get back to work: You know who's cool? Enoch Light.

Posted by Wil at 9:54 AM | Permalink | Comments (8)

Several years ago, I participated in a fund and awareness raiser in San Francisco for the Electronic Frontier Foundation's chillingeffects.org, where I made a speech, and participated in a celebrity boxing grudge match with Barney the Dinosaur.

The whole thing was about fair use and parody rights, and it was the awesome. It was held at DNA Lounge, with an after party that I was criticized for leaving early (read: after three hours, rather than when the sun rose) by morally outraged and holier-than-wil participants who couldn't be bothered to find out: 1) how many totally spun people got up in my shit and completely freaked me out, (the answer is one, but that was enough) and 2) how many hours I'd already been awake by the time I left a few minutes short of complete exhaustion (the answer is close to twenty, including six hours of "I'm-Entertaining-People" time, which is like eight hours of regular time.)

Before I so rudely left the party, I got to hang out with lots of awesome NorCal folks (thanks for the water, you guys -- I'm running some out into the street right now, just for you), one of whom brought this rather . . . unique . . . sweater, which I was asked to wear.

I've been in the public eye long enough to know that doing things like wearing an incredibly ugly sweater and posing for a photograph while wearing said sweater is bound to result in something Not Good, but the sweater was hilarious, and in the spirit of the evening (not, I might add, in the spirit of lots of Guinness. I was too tired to avail myself of the DNA's fantastic bar that night), I went ahead and posed for the picture you are now trying so hard to get out of your brains.

About once a year, this photo (which was taken by my friend loren, who never gets credit for it, you bastards) surfaces, and makes a brief run around The Internets, where it is the subject of much speculation by random people are are just positive they know what they are talking about, like "Well no wonder his career bombed." Oh! Burn! I am so nailed by your clever insight! Someday, I hope to achieve whatever it is you've achieved, Anonymous Internet Genius! Allow me to retort, in a vernacular you may understand. "Your leik so right! I am a such a looser!"

If anyone is still reading, and is interested in knowing exactly what the ugliest sweater in the world (sorry, Mr. Cosby, but it's true, and you lost) is all about, take a look at the Clown Sweater Project's page at Internet Archive, where we learn that

"I found this sweater at the Salvation Army thrift store on Valencia Street in San Francisco a few years ago. It cost me $3.75. It has proved to be a good investment."

There is also a page featuring photos of all the hapless souls who have had their careers ruined by the Curse of the Clown Sweater in one place, which takes about a year to load on my cable modem, or fifteen years if you're on dial-up. If you'd like to find out what happened to that once-promising co-worker of yours, but you don't have one to fifteen years to invest, try this page which breaks up the collection into slightly more managable chunks. Unfortunately, archive.org stops at the first page, so if you're manic about looking at all the pictures, you'll have to go to the page with all the photos. See you in ten to fifteen years. (If I may offer a bit of advice: spending one to fifteen years waiting for photos to load on The Internets may cause your career to bomb almost as fast as posing for one picture while wearing an ugly sweater. But do whatever you want, man. I'm not the boss of you.)

Whenever something like this hits a new unique online community (in this case, people who like to knit), a bunch of new readers will show up to see what all the fuss is about, with their preconceptions of me locked-and-loaded. If you're one of those people, I'd like to welcome you to my bit of madness on the intarweb, and encourage you to read some archives before you send me e-mail about what a huge idiot I am for [your reason, which you've formulated in the span of fifteen seconds based on a quick skimming of one or two pages of my blog goes here]. Now, before you decide that I hate knitters, I should point out that my wife does Stitch-n-Bitch from time to time, making totally awesome hats for cancer patients, which totally rules. I do, however, really hate the Oakland Raiders, Toronto Maple Leafs, people who lie, dishonorable people, milk, neo-cons, paying too much for parking anywhere, and this pain in my right hip that just won't go away.

Welcome to WIL WHEATON dot NET: in Exile. Enjoy your stay, and look out for the snark. It runs wild around here.

Posted by Wil at 2:37 PM | Permalink | Comments (101) | TrackBacks (4)

I played for about six hours in a 1-2 No Limit Hold'Em game at the MGM Grand tonight. I planned to get into the HORSE game with the rest of the poker bloggers, but the list was so long, I ended up in the 1-2 game instead.

Just before midnight, a man with a puffy face, tired eyes, and the aura of defeat sat down into the 7 seat. He bought for 100, as his obviously exhausted wife sat behind him, her hand supportively on his shoulder.

He was the worst player I've ever seen in my life, and after two painfully quick rebuys, he left the table. When he got up, everything about him said he had played with -- and lost -- the rent money.

Though I hadn't taken any of his chips, I felt terribly sorry for him, as he walked, dejected, out of the poker room.

I played for another two hours, and finally cashed out four hundred and ninety-eight dollars better off than when I started.

Posted by Wil at 2:35 AM | Permalink | Comments (21)

I just got back from Monogram Sweater, but thanks to the magic of Typepad's post-it-in-the-future thingy, this won't publish until I'm in Las Vegas on Friday. Cool.

I was very nervous on the way to the theater, more nervous than I've been before a performance in a long time. It didn't make sense to me that I felt that way, because I was performing material I'm very familiar with, which I've performed several times before. On the way there, I puzzled it out, and came to the conclusion that I had a perfect storm of pre-trip anxiety, separation anxiety, and poker tournament anxiety, magnified by holy-shit-it's-almost-the-holidays* anxiety. Once I realized what was actually going on, I calmed down a little bit, and I was grateful for the opportunity to take the stage and perform.

See, when I'm acting on stage, that's the only thing going on in my entire world at that moment. I honestly forget about everything else in the universe while I'm in a scene. Even though I enjoy writing, I don't get that same total escape when I'm doing it like I do with acting. I love that escape so much, I don't think I'll ever completely lose that thing which makes me an actor.

So the show was great. The other writers created hilarious stories (if you ever get a chance to see James Judd perform "James and the Momo Sisterhood," do it) and though the house was small, they were a very receptive and supportive group. I think they had a good time.

I took my iRiver with me to record my bit in the show. I stupidly put it on the music stand, next to my book, so the audio is pretty lousy . . . but I'm here it is anyway, for those of you who are forgiving and just want to sort of hear what it was like in the theatre. It blows out at the beginning, and again around the 5 minute mark for a bit. Right near the end you can hear my cell phone ring in my pocket, because Anne was calling me. Yeah, I thought I'd turned it to silent mode, but I guess it got nudged back into "ring while Wil is on the stage" mode. I don't think anyone in the audience heard it, but it's clearly there on the recording.

So, with the understanding that the audio is far from perfect, please pretend you are in a tiny little theatre in Hollywood, and you've just seen two brilliant performaces as I walk onto the stage . . . and enjoy The Trade: Download TheTradeLive (5.7 MB -14:14 Min).mp3

*(Normally, I'd just say Christmas, but I'm trying to make Bill O'Reilly's enemies list.)

Posted by Wil at 10:42 AM | Permalink | Comments (19) | TrackBacks (1)

At John Scalzi's Whatever, I just read

As part of a barrel-full of Winnie the Pooh anniversary events, Disney is working on a new animated series that will replace Christopher Robin with a 6-year-old girl.

"We got raised eyebrows even in-house at first, but the feeling was these timeless characters really needed a breath of fresh air that only the introduction of someone new could provide," says Nancy Kanter of the Disney Channel.

"Christopher Robin is still out there in the woods, playing," she says.

Uh, no. You stupid corporate jerk. Timeless characters do not need "a breath of fresh air" BECAUSE THEY ARE TIMELESS! What the fuck is wrong with you people?

Look. I'm a huge Disney nerd. I practically grew up at Disneyland, and I've done two great movies for Disney that I'm very proud of. I know Disney is a big evil empire, but I still like my Disney stuff . . . but this is fucking ridiculous. This has nothing to do with "breathing new life" into anything; it's entirely about squeezing a few more pennies out of a successful franchise, and exploiting the anniversary of a cherished work of literature.

I have an idea: if Disney is so serious about breathing fresh life into classic characters, why not let Mickey Mouse enter the Public Domain? Okay, how about Goofy? Donald Duck? Admit it: those characters are getting a little stale, and could really use a breath of fresh air that only derivative works can provide.

Posted by Wil at 11:05 AM | Permalink | Comments (65) | TrackBacks (5)

Okay, Annie pulls out into a huge lead with her latest entry at Jesus' Favorite. The entire thing must be read (do not attempt to do so while eating, drinking, or in an enviroment where you are expected to be quiet. You have been warned) but here's a clip:

Shane:  Don’t tell anyone, but I think Annie is the coolest person in the world.   

Wil:  I know.

Shane:  Really.  I wish I had half of her coolness.

Wil:  Tell me about it. She is so kicking our assess in the bet.

Shane: I KNOW! Thank God we’re in an airtight borg free red dawn tasha basha zone, so no one can hear us, ‘cause I would DIE if she knew how awesome I thought she was.

Wil:  I feel the same way.  I bet whatever she is doing RIGHT NOW is super awesome.

QUICK CUT TO:

ANNIE IN A SOUND STUDIO RECORDING NEW MUSIC WITH GREENDAY.

ANNIE HIGH-FIVES BILLIE JOE.

BACK TO NERD TENT.

Annie also linked to her sister's blog, which is about a frequently updated as Jesus' Favorite, but with 15.875% fewer thinly-veiled references to how awesome Shane and I really are, and how living in the shadow of our awesomeness is less awesome than the actual casting of the awesome shadow.

But it's still pretty awesome:

CONFESSION

Blog, "Did you grow up in a wealthy suburb?

Steffie "YES. BUT, I did not drive a BMW at age 16. I had my dad's old caddy. It was a 87' Sedan...ok...and it died within the year of me owning it because ANNIE drove it into the ground. ALWAYS getting the HAND ME DOWNS."

Blog, "Did you go to Catholic School for 14 years of your life?"

Steffie, "YES, hence my hang up with Jesus' Favorite."

Blog, "Were you Homecoming Queen for the all boys school next door?"

Steffie, "YES. But only because my senior picture was half-way decent and I correctly answered some stupid question about "CaddyShack" and knew some stupid football answer about how many downs it takes to score a touch down...(which is a trick question...right???)"

(That is how they judged the girls..nice huh? The feminist in me is REELING.)

Blog, "Did you wear LL Bean shoes and have Polo glasses?"

Steffie, "Sadly, yes... no excuses for that one."

There must have been something in the water up in a certain catholic school in  Bloomfield Hills, Michigan, because those Sertich girls are crazy with the funny.

We're coming for you, Annie. We have a +3 cape of kicking your ass, and a scroll of Hawesome. You'd better make your save vs. nerds, or you're totally going to lose a level.

Posted by Wil at 8:24 AM | Permalink | Comments (21)

I'm leaving for Vegas Friday morning for the WPBT Winter Classic insanity-fest and poker tournament plus jokes, and I haven't had time to play much poker this week to warm myself up for the trip.

So I was about to go play some sit-n-go tourneys at PokerStars, and I realized that I can make private tourneys of my own.

So I made a private tourney at starts at 5:30 Pacific time (that will be 2030 according to the lobby clock). If enough people show up, we'll play it like a simple sit-n-go, otherwise, I'll just find some regular SNGs to play.

I always have a good time playing at PokerStars, but I'd much rather play with people I "know," you know?

So if you have time and interest, go to the PokerStars lobby and look for WWdN: Wil's Folly under tourneys -> private. The password is monkey, and the buy-in is $10 +1. It's tournament number 16141481.

Once more, the details:

What: WWdN: Wil's Folly
When: 2030 EST (1730 PST) today.
Password: monkey
Tourney number: 1614181

Posted by Wil at 4:11 PM | Permalink | Comments (11)

Hey, if you've enjoyed my Radio Free Burrito podcasts, I think you may like the audio version of Just A Geek:

This journey is a fascinating read, made even more intimate and fulfilling by Wil's narrative. This is not just an audio book, it's a glimpse into the psyche of the man who considers himself... Just a Geek. NOTE: Due to graphic language, some content may be unsuitable for younger audiences.

Yes, I realize this may feel like totally crass commecial bullshit . . . because it is. I worked very hard on the audio book, and I don't plug it nearly enough. A few RFB listeners have commented to me that they picked up the audio book after listening to the podcast, so I thought I'd make it nice and easy for anyone who is interested in checking it out. It's available as a set of nine CDs for $35 (normally $39), or as an instantly-downloadable MP3, also for $35 (normally $35.)

I'm very proud of the audio book. I've talked in the past about what a huge letdown my experience wih O'Reilly was on the print version of the book, and much of the joy I'd hoped to feel with its release has instead come from the recording of the audio version, which ended up being a performance, with asides, commentary, and reflections on the material that aren't in the print version of the book. I guess it's like I'm reading the book to you, and occasionally setting it down to give some meta-commentary on various passages.

So if you liked the print book, or if you like the podcasts, I'm pretty sure you'll dig the audiobook, which, to steal a line from Al Franken, "makes a wonderful gift." ;)

Posted by Wil at 11:49 AM | Permalink | Comments (18) | TrackBacks (2)

This Thursday night, I'm performing in a show called Monogram Sweater, at The Second City Theatre in Hollywood.

It's a monologue show, in a very small intimate setting. I'm going to perform my short story The Trade.

Sadly, once I was home and on the kitchen floor, the reality of the trade did not meet the grand build up it had been given by my young imagination. That single push did not send my heros to quick safety. Rather, it sent them forward about 6 inches and to the left, coming to an anticlimactic rest against the front of the dishwasher. Only the constant presence of my grimy 8 year-old fist would give them adequate propulsion away from danger. And the foot-peg technology was quickly replaced by the more reliable scotch-tape-and-rubber band technology.

The novelty of rolling that Land Speeder around the floor quickly wore off, and I really missed my Death Star.

Tickets are just five bucks, which you can totally score in about thirty minutes on any freeway off ramp in Southern California, provided your cardboard sign is easy to read. Details, including address and showtimes are on the spiffy clickable flyer over there, but for those of you who like to cut-n-paste:

WHAT: Monogram Sweater (Funny. Personal. Stories.)
WHERE: Second City Theatre -8156 Melrose Avenue, next to the Improv
WHEN: Thursday, December 8, 2005. 8PM.
HOW MUCH: $5

Posted by Wil at 10:14 AM | Permalink | Comments (14) | TrackBacks (1)

The feedback on RFBep0 has been great. Everyone seems to like it, and the constructive criticism has been really helpful. Thank you, everyone, who left comments or sent in e-mail. I quite obviously still have some growing to do, but the two major criteria (was it fun for me, and did the audience enjoy it) seem to have been met. I think it's worth trying another one, and incorporating the notes.

(I was going to write down all my thoughts here . . . but I think I'll just put them into RFBep1 :-)

I set up a new e-mail address for the show, too: questions can still go to ask at wil wheaton dot net and comments can go to podcast at wil wheaton dot net.

I figure that if I can do four of these things, and I can manage not to suck, RFB will get its own location, like radio.wilwheaton.net or something, so I can set up special podcast feeds with feedburner and have show notes and other exciting things. I'll also figure out some sort of schedule, so the show is coming out on a regular basis.

Posted by Wil at 9:35 AM | Permalink | Comments (30)

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

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

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

But do you know what this means? 

Beware of my ghetto photoshop.

Elbow, double bird, and Send.

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

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

But know this…

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

However, for now, I mourn.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Elbow & Send.

Posted by Wil at 8:45 AM | Permalink | Comments (26)

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

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

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

Posted by Wil at 4:33 PM | Permalink | Comments (26)

Today could have been a really, really bad day.

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

I just wanted to mark that fact.

As you were.

Posted by Wil at 2:25 PM | Permalink | Comments (15)

(via boingboing)

Posted by Wil at 4:35 PM | Permalink | Comments (8)

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

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

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

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

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

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

Posted by Wil at 2:45 PM | Permalink | Comments (6)

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

Still with me?

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

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

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

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

"Uh-huh."

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

"Uh-huh."

"Yeah."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah."

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

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

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

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

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

Here are a few random thoughts before I get offline:

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Posted by Wil at 6:02 AM | Permalink | Comments (43)

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

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

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

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

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

I backed out of the driveway.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Inded he did," I said.

"What is 'modren'?" He said.

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

"Does this have something to do with mullets?

"You know it does," I began.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Who is Kilroy?" Nolan said.

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

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

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

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

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

Posted by Wil at 9:00 PM | Permalink | Comments (37) | TrackBacks (1)

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

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

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

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

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

Posted by Wil at 7:54 PM | Permalink | Comments (16) | TrackBacks (2)

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Posted by Wil at 7:04 PM | Permalink | Comments (2)

Remember when I wrote about how Annie lost a bet?

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

I lost a bet. 

So now I have to start a blog. 

It’s that simple. 

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

Wil Wheaton

and

Shane Nickerson

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

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

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

Elbow and send.

Posted by Wil at 7:40 AM | Permalink | Comments (16)

Pauly wrote,

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

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

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

Posted by Wil at 3:32 PM | Permalink | Comments (5)

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

WWdN:iX readerJB wrote:

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

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

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

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

And it’s all your fault, Wheaton.

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

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

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

Posted by Wil at 7:00 AM | Permalink | Comments (34)

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

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

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

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

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

 

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

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

Posted by Wil at 2:45 PM | Permalink | Comments (14)

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

And now . . . coffee and toast.

Posted by Wil at 6:38 AM | Permalink | Comments (21)

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

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

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

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

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

Frakkin' A, Ron.

Posted by Wil at 2:08 PM | Permalink | Comments (44)

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

Metal Council Convenes To Discuss 'Metal Hand Sign' Abuse

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

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

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

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

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

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

Rock. \m/

Posted by Wil at 5:00 PM | Permalink | Comments (24) | TrackBacks (1)

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

I wonder if any Congressional Republicans will follow his example?

Posted by Wil at 1:54 PM | Permalink | Comments (16)

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

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

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

Details:

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

Details for tomorrow's correct WWdN Friday game:

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

I hope to see lots of people in both games!

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

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

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

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

Via Seth Godin's blog.

Posted by Wil at 10:34 AM | Permalink | Comments (5)

As a result of my duties as a Technology editor at Suicide Girls, a fiercely proud representative of Team PokerStars, and writing for The Onion AV Club and writing for CardSquad, I find myself without a whole lot of free time right now. When I do find some free time, I'd rather spend it with my family than with The Interets, and that means less time blogging.

I thought about that, as I walked Ferris Berris and Riley Monster this afternoon: I've had such a fabulous time blogging about whatever here in Exile, I don't want to let regular posts fall down to once or twice a week. It's easy to fall into this trap where I think everything I write here has to be so fucking important and meaningful . . .  I am always on the verge of taking myself a little too seriously, and that's just not what this is all about.

To keep perspective, and to keep blogging fun, I'm going to see how putting up whatever the hell I feel like works out for me, starting with this, which I found earlier today at boingboing:

Replica of Charlie Brown's Xmas tree
Urban Outfitters is selling a replica of the "pathetic" Xmas tree Charlie Brown took home in A Charlie Brown Christmas:

The tree is an exact replica of the tree from the famous cartoon, made of wire branches and plastic needles with a criss cross wooden base. The bendable branches allow you to make it look just how you want, super pathetic or just kind of pathetic. The tree comes with one red Christmas ball ornament.

 

Posted by Wil at 6:46 PM | Permalink | Comments (28)

Jason Kirk, a blogger with whom I sometimes play cards, wrote an introspective post where he mused,

"I get distracted by what I’ve somehow come to think I ought to be instead of who I already am. I let others’ ideas, and ideas fed to me by a part of myself that’s dedicated to being counter-productive, get in my way. When I do that I lose focus of what’s important in my life."

That struck a chord with me, because I could have written those words myself around the time I wrote the blogs that became Just a Geek. I've grown a lot since those days, and I'm happier and more secure than I've ever been (not counting a time when I was too immature to know better.) Why is it, do you think, that it feels like a luxury to get to this place, rather than a natural and inevitable part of this life?

Posted by Wil at 9:24 AM | Permalink | Comments (24)

Friday night, Anne was on the phone with one of her friends, and I heard her say, ". . . my husband."

I love that. I love it that I'm her husband, and I love it that tomorrow, I will celebrate six years of being married to my best friend in the whole universe.

Posted by Wil at 8:33 PM | Permalink | Comments (60)

Man, I'm really having a great time in the WWdN Friday tourneys at PokerStars. The average field is about 120 players, and each week we've seen some fantastic play, some lucky play, some donkey play, and even some plays that haven't come from me. :)

The Donegal Invitational this week was the best one, yet, and I'm not just saying that because I finished 14th out of 127 players.

Okay, maybe I am. But the point is, it was a lot of fun, and my friend Alan (aka metsfan, aka penner42) from geekandproud.net beat out the blogfather himself to win the whole damn thing.

One of the best hands for me happened early on, when I got a pair of queens. I was the first player to act on the hand, so I made a raise that would discourage drawing hands, but encourage people with strong over cards (like ace-king, ace-jack, etc) or weaker pairs (like nines or tens) call me. A hand like queens is pretty strong before the flop, but it's a very vulnerable hand if you've got to play it against a bunch of opponents, and it's pretty much dead to aces or kings (duh).

A player who was in middle position called, and the button (the player who is the nominal dealer, and who can act last on every hand after the flop) also called. The flop was queen-something-ten. BINGO! This is a BEAUTIFUL flop for me, because there were no straights or flushes possible, and I would almost certainly get action from players with ace-queen, ace-ten, or a pair of tens. In fact, I was really hoping for someone to have a pair of tens, because I'd have a better set and almost certainly take all their chips.

I was the first player to act, and with a strong hand like this, I'd normally check. But I made what Dan Harrington calls a continuation bet which says, "Okay, I had a stong hand before the flop, and I still like it." This is a great bluffing tool for times when I raise with a pair of fives, get a caller, and an ace hits the flop. If I make a continuation bet, it's very likely that a weaker ace (like ace-six, for example) or a pair better than mine (like jacks) will fold to my bet. I knew that I'd have to show this hand, and I wanted to set up for later that my continuation bets were real. Note that it would also be perfectly appropriate to check and raise with this hand, which would also announce to the table that you're not afraid to check a strong hand, and possibly buy you free cards later on when you need them; it's sort of up to player's individual style, and the texture of the other players' styles to make the best choice.

So I made my continuation bet of about 1/2 the pot. The first caller immediately raised me for half of his stack, and the button folded. I thought for a second about how to get all his chips: would it be best to just call, and put him all-in on the turn, or would it be better to force him to decide to play for all his chips now? Again, with an eye toward my image for later in the tournament, when I may have to put my chips at risk without the best hand, I decided to make him play for all his chips. I pushed all-in and he immediately called with a pair of tens. Ding!

Note that this hand illustrates the element of luck in poker: jsmitty399, who had the tens, was entirely correct to call my raise, and must have felt great when he made his set. If I were him, I would have gone broke on that hand, too, because from his perspective, pocket queens is "monsters under the bed." If he hadn't made his set, he probably would have gotten away from the hand on my continuation bet. I don't know what the button had, but my guess is small suited connectors (like 67 or 89) or a suited ace that missed the flop, and I doubt I would have gotten action from that hand either. Also, I could just as easily have had AQ and been way behind. Hell, if I had aces or kings I would have been way behind. So jsmitty399 got very unlucky at the same time I got very lucky. That doesn't make us very good or very bad poker players . . . it just makes us poker players.

Here's how I reported the action in my live blog:

I got queens UTG, so I raised it, got calls from LP and the button. The flop came Q-x-T, I made a continuation bet, and LP raised me for half his stack. I came back all-in, and he called me with TT. The button folded, and I busted jsmitty399 with set-over-set. I've got 3525 now, and I'm third in chips!

I applied lessons learned from  Harrington on Hold'Em (volumes one and two), Tournament Poker for Advanced Players by Sklansky and Malmuth, and Winning Low Limit Hold'Em by Lee Jones in that hand. If you're interested in improving your game, I suggest checking them out.

And, as always, I hope to see lots of WWdN:iX readers in future Friday games!

Posted by Wil at 1:01 PM | Permalink | Comments (19)

"Death is that state where one lives only in the memory of others, which is why it is not an end. No goodbyes--just good memories."
    - Tasha Yar

I knew it was coming, but that didn't blunt the sadness I felt when I learned yesterday that Michael Piller died. I didn't know Michael very well -- a consequence of my age when we worked together, and one of the very few lingering regrets I have about Star Trek -- but I had (and have) tremendous respect for him, and I believe that he is more responsible than anyone else for Next Generation transforming itself into the amazing show it became in season four.

I last saw Michael at a Star Trek convention in Pasadena a couple of years ago. He was there to talk about Dead Zone, and I was there to read from my upcoming book, Dancing Barefoot. I had just finished watching the fourth season of TNG on DVD.

I felt the usual Prove To Everyone shame, but I walked over to him anyway. We spoke for a bit, and I finally said what I needed to say.

"I never understood how important you were to the show," I said, "until I watched it change under your leadership."

A group of kids dressed in Buffy costumes sped down the hallway, swarmed around us, and ran into the main hall, where one of their idols was about to speak.

"So I wanted to say 'thank you' now, because before, I was -- well, I just didn't know how."

He smiled and took my hand. "Thank you, Wil," he said.

"Good luck with Dead Zone," I said. "I hear it's going to be fantastic."

He drew a deep breath. "We'll see . . ." he said.

And that was it. We chatted for another minute or so, and went our separate ways.

I hardly knew Michael, but everyone who did loved him. As far as I can tell, he was one of the very few genuinely good people who worked in the industry.

Goodbye, Michael, and thank you.

Posted by Wil at 10:34 AM | Permalink | Comments (18)

And now, your weekly reminder about the WWdN Friday game at PokerStars, which PokerGeek has dubbed "The biggest homegame in the world":

What: WWdN: Donegal Invitational
Where: PokerStars.
When: Friday, November 4th. 7:00 PM EST
Password: monkey
Tournament number: 14391236
Buy-in: $10+1

It's hard to find a starting time that can accomodate everyone who wants to play, but the 7:00 PM tourney a couple of weeks ago drew the largest field, so I'm trying that time again this week. I know that it's not the best start time for West coasters, but if I set the start time much later than that, it blows it for almost all of the people East of us. In an effort to accomodate as many people as possible, I'm going to add a game for us on Thursdays, which I'll call the WWdN West Coast Warm-up, unless someone can come up with a better name. It will run as long as there are people interested.

For more poker blogger shennanigans, I also endorse Saturdays With Dr. Pauly:

What: Saturdays with Dr. Pauly
Where: Poker Stars
When: Saturday November 5th at 1pm EST
Tournament Info: #14338880 (check under Private Tournament Tab)
Password: hiltons

Eligibility: Anyone with a Poker Stars account
Attire: Pants optional

Pauy's tourney has some really cool bounties and bustout gifts, so if you're going to play, check out the details at Tao of Poker.

If you play a lot of online poker against total strangers, the social element of the game is largely lost. That's a real shame, because when I play with friends, I always have a good time, win or lose. That's the goal of the WWdN tourneys, and I'm sure Dr. Pauly would agree. Check out last week's live blog to get a sense of what I'm talking about:

6:39 PM - The tournament is shocked into silence as we learn that the blogfather has busted. GG, Iggy.

6:44 PM - I finally got to checkraise! w00t!

6:45 PM - I'm sweating PokerGeek's table, and -- no shit -- they had THE HAMMER the same time we had THE HAMMER on my table. I think that's a goocher.

7:13 PM - Bouncin' around the room: Ferris and Riley were playing really rough in the hallway behind me, with the barking and the running around and the wrestling . . . I guess it was too much for Ferris, because she just walked into the room and flopped down at my feet. Her little dog head is resting on my foot now :)

8:05 PM - Spaceman just made another set with pocket rockets, and busted penneriii. Spaceman has 18100 now, and lept over patrickjst to take second place. GRobman is still the man with 25089.

Penner42 said: three sets in one orbit? Must be nice.
Spaceman said: I'll take what I can get, Alan :)
EVDevil03, who is clinging to life with 4785, dryly observed: I just want to get out of this table alive.

See? The biggest homegame in the world. :)

If anyone has suggestions or comments about the WWdN games, I would love to hear them. See you  tomorrow!

Posted by Wil at 10:27 AM | Permalink | Comments (20)

I had a meeting with an agent tonight.

He asked me, "What do you want to do? What's your five year plan?"

"I want to write," I said.

Posted by Wil at 12:23 AM | Permalink | Comments (42) | TrackBacks (1)

This week's Games of our Lives is Demons to Diamonds. Anyone remember this game? I loved it when I was a kid.

Long before the Atari 2600 unsuccessfully tried to duplicate arcade classics like Pac-Man and Donkey Kong, its programmers created wonderful little games that engaged imaginations as much as hand/eye coordination. Demons To Diamonds took things one step further and put real life into its 8-bit graphics with a cool little story in the instruction manual, which set the game at a carnival, and included a churlish demon who told players, "So come on, reach for your laser, exercise your trigger finger on us. Put us through our paces and we'll dazzle you with demonic tricks!" Players knew right away that they were in for a good time.

[. . .]

Kids today might not like it because: After years of online gaming, playing with a person who is sitting the same room frightens and confuses them.

Kids today might like it because: The manual tells them, "Although DEMONS TO DIAMONDS was primarily designed for children in the 6 to 12 age range, we find that people of all ages enjoy this engaging game." Don't argue, just do what the manual says and nobody will get hurt.

Check out the full column. I think I snuck some funny into it, and I don't want to rob the AV Club of your precious clicks.

Posted by Wil at 7:08 AM | Permalink | Comments (15)

Eleven days ago, Sean Bonner reported his unfortunate experience with Screamfest at Universal Citywalk, and I wrote a post about it where I said:

I hope that they'll make good on their promise to provide full refunds to the people who couldn't get them at the theatre . . . if they care at all about their reputation, I'm sure that they will.

There are a ton of events scheduled for the rest of the weekend -- events that I'd really dig, like a screening of Friday the 13th -- but there is no way they're getting any of my money until those refunds go out.

So we have another example of the importance of the reputation economy. If I just read their website, I'd be totally into Screamfest. But now? Until they give me a good reason to change my mind, Not so much.

A couple of days later, Sean reported that all was not well with the unfolding saga:

. . . as of this moment I still haven't received a refund for anything. What I have received are a few e-mails arguing the situation and so far claiming that I will NOT be receiving a full refund.

Sean detailed the exchange he had with one of the organizers, which when read objectively gives the appearance of an exhausted person, who is just trying to make sure that she's not getting scammed by a cranky attendee. This is entirely understandable to me, as I've dealt with some unscrupulous fans and promoters over the years, and I can't even begin to tell you how low some of these people will go to rip you off. Ultimately, they confirmed that Sean wasn't one of those grifters, and he reports today that the organizers of Screamfest refunded all of his money.

I'd happily like to report that I've gotten a full refund for the tickets for both movies.

Good on ya, Screamfest organizers. We who are on the outside will never know what sort of issues you all had as you pulled this event together (unless you choose to share them with us, and that's entirely at your discretion), but we know now that if something goes wrong with one of your customers, you'll do the right thing. Whatever you refunded in cash, you've earned back tenfold in the Reputation Economy.

Posted by Wil at 5:56 PM | Permalink | Comments (9)

Nolan and I carved punkins this evening, on the kitchen floor, the same way we have for the last ten years.

I was particularly impressed with Nolan's creativity . . . even though put a pretty fine point on the generation gap.

Link to the jack-o-lanterns in the dark, on flickr.

Posted by Wil at 5:49 PM | Permalink | Comments (25) | TrackBacks (1)

I'm at a crossroads right now, with regard to my blog: I sort of feel like I'm living in a hotel here in exile, and I'm doing whatever I can to help the hotel feel more like home while my real house is rebuilt, but the longer I stay here, and the more I try to make it feel home, the more likely it is that it will become home. I even tried to import the old WWdN entries to this blog, but (big surprise) the import failed. I wonder if I am doomed to have my archives in a useless textfile on my machine in my office until I eventually just suck it up and pay someone to fix the stupid fucking thing.

If I sound frustrated, it's because I am.

I spent several hours the other day working on WWdN. With absolutely no progress to show for it when I was done, I was so pissed I slammed some drawers, kicked some things, and realized that I don't give a flying fuck about the technology any more. I just want to write. Yes, it's nice to have the "I did it myself" merit badge, but trying to do it all myself is eating up time I would rather spend on other things, and is rapidly sucking the life (and enthusiasm) out of me. When I started with blogger and geocities way back a thousand years ago, I loved that the technology made it easy for me to scrape things out of my brain and moosh them up on The Internets. Then I got into the technology and had a good time scooping my brains out, and manipulating the technology to make the stuff I scooped out look a little better. But now, I just want it to work.  It's the writing that I care about, and time I spend waste dealing with technical bullshit is time that I can't spend creating things that matter.

Yes, Virginia, I am starting to hate computers.

So I'm working with a friend of mine to completely rebuild WWdN from the ground up. We're still puzzling out the final design, but it's going to be very cool (and very different from the current layout) when it's done. I'm conflicted about sticking with TypePad (and domain mapping) or banging on MT 3.2 until it has the same functionality as TypePad. Right now, I'm leaning toward domain mapping, even though TypePad is having what appears to be the worst technical difficulties in its history (Six Apart has assured TypePad users that these problems are about to go away. I see no reason to doubt that, but it's still annoying in the mean time, and is the best argument so far to stay with my own installation at WWdN.)

I don't know what I'll ultimately end up doing, but it's clear that I'll be in exile for much longer than I originally anticipated.

I've changed the feedburner feed to reflect the WWd:iX xml file, rather than the WWdN xml file. If you're subscribed through feedburner, WWdN:In Exile should start showing up in your RSS reader pretty soon, and we'll all feel . . . at home.

Posted by Wil at 1:34 PM | Permalink | Comments (53)

It's 82 degrees and gorgeous today, here in sunny Pasadena. When the little ghouls come trick-or-treating tonight, it should be nice and balmy.

I was going to go as a zombie, but in honor of the beautiful day, I've decided to go as a Palm Tree.

And after you see that link, you'll probably understand why the last place in the world I want to be today is inside. One of the benefits of being self-employed is that I can take the afternoon off to walk my dogs and have a cigar on the patio while I catch up with some podcasts, so that's where I'll be if anyone is looking for me.

Posted by Wil at 12:56 PM | Permalink | Comments (15)

Sigh. This is always a risk when the cast is made up of working actors, but it still sucks.

The schedule for the movie can not be changed, so I had to take myself out of the ACME shows for the next two weeks. This means that you one and only for reals chance to see me in the show will be on November 19th, our closing night.

I'm really sorry, and feel terrible for the cast, the theatre, and especially the WWdN:iX readers who were planning on coming out to see the show. I hope everyone understands.

Posted by Wil at 7:56 PM | Permalink | Comments (9)

Heeding the "it's not real until you're actually on the set" philosophy, I haven't written about this movie that I'm working on tomorrow.

Yeah . . . I booked a movie! I'm have a cameo as a director called "Alan Smith" in this great movie, which has a title I can't disclose. I'll call it The One Where Wil Wheaton's Cameo Kills And Wins Him Some Stupid Award (TOWWWCKAWHSSA, which is actually pronounced "Toe-wik-a-whissa." Which makes me giggle like a product tester in the nitrous oxide factory.)

The thing is . . . I was supposed to work in the morning and make it to the ACME show at night. I just got my call time, and they're bringing me in late in the afternoon. Unless they change the schedule, there is no way I'll be able to make it to the show. I know that several WWdN readers are planning to come to the show tomorrow night, and I reminded the folks at The One Where Wil Wheaton's Cameo Kills And Wins Him Some Stupid Award that they assured me the movie wouldn't conflict with the my show. They're working on it, but I'll be very surprised if they can shuffle around an entire day's work just to accomodate a day player, (even if he name *is* in the title of the movie.)

The cast will survive without me, and the show will still be hilarious, but if you want to see me do my funny, you're probably better off waiting until next week.

Check back here in the next couple of hours, as I'll update when I know for sure whether or not we can make it happen.

Posted by Wil at 4:05 PM | Permalink | Comments (17)

I've been watching I Love The 80s 3D for the last 90 minutes or so, and I keep seeing commercials for I Walk The Line.

Huge Johnny Cash fan that I am, I have been really excited about this film . . . but I'm scared to death after seeing the commercials. I really hope the personalities of the lead actors don't overwhelm the characters they are playing.

Posted by Wil at 3:49 PM | Permalink | Comments (19)

Star Trek: Nemesis is featured in this week's Commentary Tracks of the Damned in The Onion AV Club.

What went wrong: Nothing, though Baird's offhanded and repeated dismissal of pre-established Star Trek canon—characters, design, relationships, backstory, previous Trek films—strongly implies a fatal contempt for the series. He brightens noticeably when describing the parts of the film he got to design from scratch, or redesign to override previous series installments.

Comments on the cast: Virtually none. Baird devotes a bare word or two of praise to actors Patrick Stewart and Brent Spiner, but mostly seems to regard them as props amid his more interesting sets and computerized cameras. Judging from an awkward reference to "Patrick and Brent and... Worf," he doesn't even necessarily remember their names.

Inevitable dash of pretension: Baird's entire commentary is self-important and affected; his gravelly murmurs make him sound like a beat-poet wannabe at his first open-mic. Suddenly the film's ludicrously weighty tone makes more sense.

I wish someone could explain why the final film in the TNG canon was given over to a man who had such obvious contempt for the legacy and mythos of Star Trek. What a waste.

Posted by Wil at 9:45 AM | Permalink | Comments (24)

Just a reminder that The Friday Game at PokerStars is all set up, and taking registrations. We had 152 players last week, and I can't wait to see if we match or exceed that number this week.I've had a great time in the first two games (even though I haven't gotten anywhere near the money) and I'm excited to see what the third week brings. I can honestly say that I've been looking forward to the game all week.

Last week, I live blogged the action at CardSquad, and I plan to do it again, to keep the "TV table" meme alive.

Here are the details. Please share them as you see fit:

What: WWdN: Up4Poker Invitational
Where: PokerStars.
When: Friday, October 28th. 9:00 PM EST
Password: monkey
Tournament number: 14090593
Buy-in: $10+1

As always, if you bust me out, you get naming rights for next week's game . . . but I'm feeling lucky this week, so watch out for my raises. Hope to see lots of you there!

Posted by Wil at 7:04 AM | Permalink | Comments (21)

(Thanks, Jessica!)

Posted by Wil at 11:05 PM | Permalink | Comments (28) | TrackBacks (1)

For the last month, I've been doing a show at the ACME Comedy Theatre with Shane Nickerson. It's called Now That's What I Call ACME Volume One and it's a "best of" show.

I've got two writing credits in the show, for a poker-related sketch called William's Tell and a a sketch I co-wrote called Living and Dying In DWP, (which CMack and I wanted to call The Tibetan Sketch of Living and Dying, before we were overruled.)

I'm also in the funniest series of sketches I've ever been in, called "Tribute." I love these sketches so much, I will perform them for the rest of my life, if Anne (who wrote them) will let me.

There are four performances left, counting this Saturday night.

Details:

What: Now That's What I Call ACME, Volume One
Where: ACME Comedy Theatre
When: Saturdays until November 19th.
Time: 8PM
Tickets: $15. (Reserve online)

This is the last chance you'll have to see me at ACME for a looooong time. I was sick with mono when the last writing session happened, so I won't get a chance to be in any of the shows before mid-2006.

Posted by Wil at 6:00 PM | Permalink | Comments (9)

I keep seeing these magnetic ribbons on people's cars that say, "I SUPPORT PRESIDENT BUSH and our troops." I always applaud these brave people, who have taken the extraordinary step of attaching a magnetic ribbon to their car as a reflection of their deeply held convictions.

Personally, I don't think one needs to support the president or the war to support the soldiers, but this is a favorite talking point from the RNC.

Witness the case of Cornell du Houx.

The senior is most well known on the Bowdoin College campus in his role as development director for the College Democrats of America and as co-president of the Maine College Democrats. Under his leadership, the organization in Maine has grown from two chapters to 23.

While Cornell du Houx has actively rallied against many of President Bush's policies, he feels that his involvement in the Marines is not a conflict of interest.

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

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

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

Tonight, there are vigils all over the country to mark the death of the 2000th American soldier to be killed in George Bush's Idiotic Adventure. Blondesense has links, and advises people who support the soldiers but oppose the war (a difficult concept for bemagneted car owners to comprehend, but a valid one nonetheless) to Just Go. I agree.

I would like to ask all young and able-bodied war supporters to join me as I mark this tragic milestone: I will do everything I can to end this war, and prevent others like it from happening. You can head to your nearest recruitment center and join up. Dan Schulberth has a spot in the military with his name on it that he's not using.

Posted by Wil at 4:04 PM | Permalink | Comments (26)

There is a really cool feature at Forbes.com all about various forms of communication. They've got interviews with some incredible people, like Arthur C. Clarke, Kurt Vonnegut, Jane Goodall. They've also got a discussion about blogging with me. A brief excerpt:

Wil Wheaton is a writer and actor. His Web site, wilwheaton.net, is one of the most popular blogs on the Internet. He has written two books, Just a Geek and Dancing Barefoot, and has a third due later this year. As an actor, he is best known for roles on Star Trek: The Next Generation and in the film Stand By Me.

wil_wheaton: believe it or not, in all these years I've never done an interview over IM

david_ewalt: since we're doing stories about communicating, this will show a whole other way in which people communicate

wil_wheaton: i was talking with my stepson the other day about this

wil_wheaton: he's grown up in a world where IM has always existed

wil_wheaton: he spends time IMing with his friends like I used to sit on the phone with mine

wil_wheaton: and I have iChatAV on my laptop and my desktop, so when I travel for work or whatever, I can stay in touch with my family visually.

david_ewalt: this, in fact is why i wanted to talk to you...you seem to have mastered many of these new forms of communication

david_ewalt: that's the nice way for me to say "you're a geek"

wil_wheaton: w00t

Gabe and Tycho from Penny Arcade drew a funny-because-it's-true comic on blogging, and Bob Jeffery supports my theory that traditional channels of media and distribution just aren't that important anymore. The whole thing is awesome, and it's an easy way to lose several hours filling your brains with thought-provoking Slurm.

Posted by Wil at 2:18 PM | Permalink | Comments (5)

In addition to my regular Games of our Lives column, I've got a review in The Onion AV Club this week.

Games of our lives looks back at Thief:

You robbed the bank. That's good! But you dropped the money all over the known universe. That's bad. But you have a spiffy car to drive around and pick it up. That's good! There are cops everywhere. That's bad. But you can occasionally blow them up for big points! That's good! You want to play Pac-Man, but you can only find a cheap imitation! That's Thief!

Gameplay: Using a joystick, you drive your little car around the ugliest maze in the world. Your goal is to pick up all the dollar bills so you can advance to the next level. Opposing you are four little police cars. They don't have names, but you could safely call them something like, oh... let's randomly say Inky, Pinky, Blinky, and Clyde. If they touch you, you'll blow up in a magnificent fireworks display. However, if you pick up one of the dollar signs scattered around the maze, a siren will sound and your enemies will become ghost cars that you can run into for bonus points.

[. . .]

It's a little embarrassing to watch Thief try to be as cool as Pac-Man, but it's still a really fun game that works extra-hard to keep players happy. The game plays a super-cool police-scanner soundtrack right out of a '40s movie, and when you're down to your final life, Thief helpfully says "This is your last chance!" Can you remember the last time Pac-Man said as much as "Hello" to you? Didn't think so.

And I reviewed X-Men Legends 2: Rise of Apocalypse:

Whether to get out of homework, exact revenge on a bully, or just impress a potential date, every kid wants to be a superhero. But the Earth's yellow sun gives its native population sunburns instead of superpowers, and radiation is likely to make you a cancer patient rather than a mutant. So what's a wannabe to do? Retreat to the basement with X-Men Legends II, of course! In this follow-up to 2004's X-Men Legends, Apocalypse threatens to destroy Earth. In the face of this mighty adversary, the X-Men team up with their arch-rivals from Magneto's Brotherhood to defeat him, presumably so they can get back to fighting each other.

Final judgment: X-Men Legends II is more of an action-based button-masher than a sandbox RPG, but there's nothing wrong with that. The few limitations are easily offset by just how enjoyable it is to play this game.

I realyl liked both of these games. In fact, Legends 2 is so much fun to play, I got a copy of it for PSP so I could play it when I wasn't at home . . . which brought to mind an interesting idea: wouldn't it be cool if you could have some sort of online place to save your games, so you could play them on different platforms and keep your progress in synch?

Posted by Wil at 9:42 AM | Permalink | Comments (7)

If I had to pick one way to change the world, if there was only one thing I could do, I would eliminate prejudice and bigotry, and ensure equal rights for all people. Period. That people are so ignorant, and so stupid that they can judge others based on factors which are randomly assigned by the universe, rather than the quality of one's character, just baffles me.

When I heard yesterday that Rosa Parks died, I wanted to write something about it, but I couldn't find the words. It's hard to imagine what her world was like way back in 1955, especially since 99% of the people who have the ability to read this blog will probably never know a life a billionth as challenging as hers -- and none of us are going to make one tenth of the difference she made. So what could I say that would matter?

Crooks & Liars managed to say it for me:

Try to imagine yourself as Rosa Parks did when she left work that day in 1955. Exhausted from working long hours in the department store, she looked to take a seat like always; but making sure she sat in the right section of that bus at the risk of being handcuffed. You can't-can you? It took this incredible woman to refuse to give up her seat to a white man on that bus to change the course of American history.

Think about that, and honor her legacy whenever you can. I challenge you all to make a difference, in some positive way, in someone's life today. And tomorrow. And the day after that . . .

Posted by Wil at 12:18 PM | Permalink | Comments (26)

I can't believe I forgot about this: I'm all over VH1's I Love The 80s 3D. I wasn't in much of 1980 or 1981, but I did about 9 hours of interviews with them, mostly focused on 1985-1989, if I recall correctly. Check local listings for maximum Uncle Willie Snark and your USRDA of funky giant post-Walter sideburns.

Posted by Wil at 7:29 PM | Permalink | Comments (23)

There has been a lot of fun poker in the last few days for me. The Friday WWdN Invitational has been a huge success two weeks in a row, and seems to be growing, I had a BLAST at IGN live, and the PokerStars Blogger Championship yesterday was a whole lot of fun.

I posted a live blog of the Friday Game at CardSquad:

5:04 PM - We're at the first break. This is incredibly fun. What a great group of people! I have 3105, and I am third at my table (leader has 5400). Average is 2533. Our chipleader is the poker princess  herself, with 7285. There are 90 players left.

5:05 PM - First hand after the break, I get KK in the cutoff. I raise it up 3x, no callers. It's funny to me that I get nervous when I see cowboys now. :)

5:27 PM - CJ from UpForPoker just got moved to my table. He's REALLY good, and has position on me.

5:34 PM - wwdnposse just got moved to my table. His avatar is the image from "Wil has a posse." That is too weird.

5:35 PM - I'm all-in UTG with pocket eights. One caller, plus CJ who also pushes. I hope I'm in for a race here. Oh. No I'm not. CJ called me with KK. Can I crack Kings? No, there's a King on the flop. I go home in 54th. What a disappointing finish. I really wish I hadn't donked off those chips like a dipshit, but I had a LOT of fun, and now there's only one "wil" avatar at the table.

5:37 PM - Join us next week for the WWdN: Up4Poker Invitational! (Tournament number 14090593, for you early registration types.)

The whole thing is at CardSquad, includng the final table, and the cash game I played with a bunch of other poker bloggers after I busted out. While you're there, you may want to check out the recap of the Blogger Championship:

I was playing from IGN Live in Anaheim, where I was signing autographs and playing in SNGs for PokerStars. (Note: IGN Live was really cool. If you get a chance to attend one, GO!) I was seriously multi-tasking at one point, when a reporter from Area51 radio sat down and talked with me about my books, poker, Star Trek, gaming, voice overs, and all that other crap I do.

I moved up to almost 3000 chips early, but I missed some draws, got pushed off some hands by GRob, and slowly dropped back down. I went into a shell as the blinds came up,  and with just over 900 left, and the blinds at 75/150 I was way behind par. I pushed from early position with a A-8o. It was folded to ohthen, who called with pocket nines. The flop came ace, ace . . . nine, giving ohthen a full house against my set. The turn was a queen, and I caught the case ace on the river to make quads and double up! Dems quads, beetches!

I'm working on a couple of posts for the next few days over there, that I think will be of interest to beginning players.

Posted by Wil at 7:25 PM | Permalink | Comments (9)

I love the impermanence of WWdN: In Exile. It's given me a lot of freedom to experiment with designs, content, and the Typepad experience.

So far, I really like all of it, and I'm even considering sticking with Typepad once I get WWdN up and running again. The WYSISYG editor is outstanding, and the most important factor for me in deciding what blogging tools to use is: how easy is it for me to get my ideas out of my head and onto the screen? I've noticed that since I moved to Exile, I've actually been able to blog a whole lot more than the last few weeks at WWdN: BE, just because it is so easy to use.

I also get to try things out here to see if I'm comfortable with them or not, before I integrate them into WWdN:2.0. That's why there is that Google AdSense thing over on the right side of the screen. For a long time, I've resisted putting ads on WWdN, and I even scaled back, then ultimately took a hiatus from BlogAds (which are great, by the way. It wasn't them, it was me. We're still friends.)

But  the fact is, I love to write. I love to write for CardSquad, I love to write for The Onion, I love to write for Suicide Girls, and I love to write for WWdN:IE (yuck! IE! Gross! Maybe I should call it WWdN:ix) I would like to earn my primary living as a writer, and if AdSense means my blog helps pay some bills, I can put more time into writing good content, and publishing books. (This is especially important since O'Reilly sent me my "royalty" statement for the last quarter, which was all negative numbers. Thanks for all that great promotion and support, guys!)

I don't know if I'm going to keep the AdSense around or not. I understand that Google is hardcore about the way bloggers talk about the ads, so all I will say is that if they don't earn me a certain amount of revenue each month, I'll get rid of them. Oh, and Mesothel -- Ha. Just kidding.

I'm interested in knowing what you other bloggers think, especially bloggers who use AdSense, TextAds, BlogAds, IndieClicks, etc. Is it worth it? Do you have any trouble with content, sponsors, or readers?

Posted by Wil at 7:07 PM | Permalink | Comments (20)

Three quick steps to fun on a Sunday:

1. Go to Google Print.
2. Search for Holy Shit.
3. Profit!

Google Print is awesome. I can't believe the Author's Guild is suing them. It is the very definition of myopic.

(Thanks, Matt!)

Posted by Wil at 11:32 AM | Permalink | Comments (20)

WWdN reader beccaelizabeth e-mailed me this morning:

Recently, at the Galactica One convention, Sam Witwer, who plays Crashdown on Battlestar Galactica, said he got into acting because of meeting you when he was 11 or 12 and a Next Gen fan.  He was getting a tour and the guy said something like 'Next Gen is filming over there. We can't go there.'  But then you were in your trailer and you talked to him.  He was really enthusiastic, saying how at the time of course Wesley was his favourite character, and he got to meet you and youtalked and were nice to him.

Someone else in the audience mentioned your website and your books and told him (and the other 100+ people in the hall) how good your books were, and that no he didn't work for you in any capacity.

Your fans get everywhere.  Including good TV shows.

She has a full report on the con in her livejournal (which, she disclaims, is not her best writing. Seems fine to me, but what do I know?)

I love it that lots of people got to hear about my books and website (*wave* to any of you who are dropping by for the first time) and I love it that Sam not only remembers this interaction with me, but still tells the story! It's a wonderful example of why it's imporant to treat people the way you want to be treated. It's also an example, when compared to my experience with WFS, of how lasting an effect these encounters have on people.

In other words, use whatever you have for good. That's your lesson of the day.

Posted by Wil at 4:30 PM | Permalink | Comments (12)

Another example of the communication power of blogs has come up. Read this post at blogging.la about Screamfest at City Walk:

[After much waiting and confusion] the Screamfest people show up. Lots of hustling and mix ups and craziness and we finally get out tickets and head to the theater. Since we were one of the first 25 people there we get a free DVD of Land of the Dead: The Directors Cut which is pretty cool. Did I say first 25 people? I meant only 25 people. Anyway, we find seats and are excited when the first trailer is for a Land of the Dead

XBox game. Caryn and I decide we must own an XBox just to play this game. The trailers end and rather than the movie starting, the main menu of the DVD shows up on the screen. So I guess we're watching the DVD. Which doesn't fit on the projected screen. And no one is pressing play. So the menu loop is just looping. for about 5 minutes. Finally someone hits play and the movie starts, it's about 7:20 at this point.   

As a bonus we don't just get the movie opening credits, we get subtitles too! The movie starts to play and there's no vocal track. Background sounds yes, no people talking. This goes on for 10 minutes or so before they finally stop it and bring back up the house lights. Someone apologizes and says they are working on it. Lights go down and the movie starts again, from the beginning, with subtitles. This time the subtitles are in spanish. And there's still no vocal track. There's obviously people in the projector room messing with something but nothing is working. Light come back up, then go dark and it starts from the beginning again, with the same problems. It's now almost 8PM and the next movie is supposed to start at 9:30 so we're wondering how they are going to deal with this. After the fourth false start they give up and say we will all get refunds and they are sorry but they don't know what the hell is wrong. I hear someone with a Screamfest badge say something about "they must have given us one of those boxes of messed up promo DVDs or something" - I look and yep, the free DVD we were handed on the way in is promo stamped. Fun! He then goes on to say that "with all these different formats and versions today there's no way to know what will work and what won't, so what can people expect?" What can people expect? I paid $75 I expect someone to spend 10 seconds and make sure the movie actually plays PRIOR to me sitting there waiting to see it!
 

According to one of the organizers, "They refused to give us a print and we'd already sold tickets so we were lucky the DVD came out on Tuesday..." so they used the DVD for a public exhibition, which I think is illegal. Sounds real professional, doesn't it? It gets better, when they try to get a refund:

Things start getting really cool here because no one bothered to tell the kids at the box office they were to refund anyone so they are refusing and telling people to step to the side so they can deal with the next customer, completely ignorant to the fact that the next customer was also there for Screamfest and wants their money back. We demand the manager. He shows up and starts apologizing and handing out refunds. I give him my receipts and he hands be a refund receipt... for $22 bucks. Hold your fucking horses. I point out that I paid $75 for 6 tickets so $22 doesn't quite cut it. He looks and says "Oh! You bought tickets from Screamfest directly not from us, I can't give you anything back" and rips up the $22 credit. He says I have to take it up with the Screamfest people directly because he and the theater have nothing to do with it.

It's logical to wonder if this blogger is just pissed for one reason or another. He could be exaggerating or misrepresenting the situation or whatver . . . but this blogger is Sean Bonner, who has a spotless reputation (and is a close personal friend of mine, so I trust him even more.) Therefore, Occam's Razor says that these promoters really screwed the pooch. There could be a good explanation, because shit happens with these things, but as of 2:17 PM on October 21st, there is nothing on their blog that even mentions the problems last night. There are, however, announcements about other events taking place this weekend. Hmmm. I hope that they'll make good on their promise to provide full refunds to the people who couldn't get them at the theatre . . . if they care at all about their reputation, I'm sure that they will.

There are a ton of events scheduled for the rest of the weekend -- events that I'd really dig, like a screening of Friday the 13th -- but there is no way they're getting any of my money until those refunds go out.

So we have another example of the importance of the reputation economy. If I just read their website, I'd be totally into Screamfest. But now? Until they give me a good reason to change my mind, Not so much.

Posted by Wil at 2:35 PM | Permalink | Comments (1) | TrackBacks (2)

Sean Bonner has a great post at the SBdC about the power of blogging.

[This] was just e-mailed to my by Dana in NYC. It's pretty amazing...

"One of our authors Tessa posted last week about having a delivery man force his way into her apartment and demand all of her money as a tip. The delivery man was with the extremely popular internet based NYC grocery service Fresh Direct—everyone I know and everyone they know uses this service (which incidentally has a strict no tipping policy) so there was a lot of shock, dismay, outrage over this incident. Tessa’s posts were linked to on Gothamist and Gawker although she chose not to go to the newspapers about this incident. She went right to Fresh Direct who told her that the delivery man would be re-assigned. Many of our readers were upset that this man could deliver to them next so yesterday I posted information on how to contact Fresh Direct and demand a better resolution from them. A lot of people told me that they followed my suggestion and wrote to Fresh Direct about this too. And just now I just got a mail from Fresh Direct management assuring me that after an internal investigation that the offending driver has indeed been fired.

Imagine this same thing happening as recently as five years ago. Based upon their initial reaction to the complaint, it is likely that without the flood of concerns from other customers, this company would not fire an allegedly dangerous employee. (How irresponsible to even consider reassigning him!) Without the blogs, how could she get the word out far and wide? The mainstream media? Unlikely. And even if the victim had been able to get attention from some mainstream news media, it would never have the immediacy and wide reach of communicating it on a blog. Who knows how many other doors this guy would have kicked down before he was stopped!

Whenever I am interviewed about my blog, or blogging in general, I always try to get the interviewer to grok that the real power in this medium is that anyone can communicate their opinions, fears, outrage, silliness, or whatever is important to them with a large, self-policing peer network. There is such overwhelming power in communication, if that power is treated responsibly.

That is why blogging is important. That is why it's exciting, empowering, and cool. For better and for worse, the rules of communication have changed. So far, I don't see a whole lot of evidence that the mainstream media or current corporate masters of the universe understand that. I wonder when they'll get a clue(train).

Posted by Wil at 12:06 PM | Permalink | Comments (17) | TrackBacks (1)

Just a quick reminder that tomorrow's WWdN Friday Game at PokerStars is set to go at 7:00 EDT.

What: WWdN: Decker711 Invitational
Where: PokerStars.
When: Friday, October 21st. 7:00 PM EDT
Password: monkey
Tournament number: 13788952
Buy-in: $10+1

I hope that the later starting time can accomodate a few more players than last week. Remember that this is a semi-private affair, open to anyone who knows the password is monkey.

Posted by Wil at 9:51 PM | Permalink | Comments (17)

This is always fun. Head over to TK421.net, and find out which Sci-Fi or Fantasy character you are.

Apparently, I am John Sheridan.

An experienced survivor who has maneuvered around many obstacles, you are looked up to by those who rely on your good judgment.

In the last few years, we've stumbled. We stumbled at the death of the president, the war, and on and on. When you stumble a lot you tend to look at your feet. Now we have to make people lift their eyes back to the horizon and see the line of ancestors behind us saying, "Make my life have meaning," and to our inheritors before us saying, "create the world we will live in."

I know it's a silly online survey, but I was surprised at how much I identified with those words, and I was very grateful that I wasn't Wesley Crusher (not that there's anything wrong with that.) So if you've got a few minutes to waste, head on over and tell us who you are.

(Thanks, Ocean!)

Posted by Wil at 4:19 PM | Permalink | Comments (102) | TrackBacks (4)

If you're in Anaheim this weekend, you can come out to IGN Live and play poker with me and Greg Raymer.

There are a lot of poker tournaments, but none offer the big chance the PokerStars.com All-In Tournament is offering. Play your cards right and you’ll get a chance to ante up against 2004 World Series of Poker Champion Greg Raymer. That’s right, the Fossil Man himself. Will you take down the champ or will you fall under the spell of his multi-colored glasses?    

As if that wasn’t exciting enough, you can also win a chance to play against former Star Trek: The Next Generation star turned poker pro Wil Wheaton. In addition to playing cards, Wil is a big gaming enthusiast. Maybe try to chat up his gaming habits to take him off his poker game.

Hey! How about some advice on knocking Greg off of his game? Thanks, guys. While it's a little much to say that I'm a poker pro, they nailed the "gaming enthusiast" part. I'll be there early on Sunday just so I can play the XBox 360.

What PokerStars has set up for this weekend is very cool: there will be a series of free sit-n-go tournaments throughout the day on Saturday and Sunday. The winner of each tournament will win a seat at the final game of the day. Saturday's winner will play with Greg, and Sunday's winner will play with me. We'll also be in the PokerStars booth signing autographs during the afternoon on our respective days.

If you can't make it to The Los Angeles Anaheim Convention Center of Anaheim, but you still want to play poker with me, don't forget tomorrow's WWdN Invitational!

Posted by Wil at 9:13 AM | Permalink | Comments (8)

I'm a bit of a zombie geek. In fact, one of the first real stories I wrote was for English class in  middle school, called Land of the Zombies. I wrote a little bit about it in Just A Geek:

"You were always such a wonderful writer, Wil." She said, wagging her finger at me. "We all thought that you'd end up as a screenwriter or novelist."

Something started to slowly turn in the back of my mind.

"Yeah, I always enjoyed it."

"Remember your Land of the Zombies story? All the students loved that."

I smiled and nodded. As a creative writing assignment around Halloween in 1985, all the seventh graders wrote horror stories. Inspired by "Night of the Living Dead," D&D, and a family trip to San Francisco, I wrote a story about a man and his wife, fleeing from the terror of zombies who had escaped an army research base, and were slowly taking over the country. They discover that water can force the zombie-causing chemicals out of the living dead, so they end up on Alcatraz island, which I had decided was the only safe place left in America. I remember the story ended with something like, "Alcatraz was once a federal prison for killers. Now it's the prison that's saving our lives. We even sleep in the Birdman's old cell.

"As the sun set over the Golden Gate Bridge, I looked out onto America: once, the land of the free. Now, the land of the zombies."

It's not Hemmingway, but it's pretty good for a 12 year old. It was voted scariest and goriest story by the seventh and  eighth graders, and I proudly photocopied it, and sent it to all my relatives. They were all horrified and told my parents that I should get professional help.

If I can ever find that story, which I think is somewhere in my mother's Infinite Bag of Childhood Relics, I'll reprint it. Better yet, I'll scan it so you can read it in all its Applewriter glory, complete with judicious use of bolding, outlining, and shadowing. Mmmm yeah. It's good stuff.

As I grew older, so did my fascination with zombies. When I was a teenager, I was a total geek for Dawn of the Dead (not so much, Day of the Dead, though)  and rented it regularly on VHS tape from a video rental store (ask your parents, kids.) While I appreciated the humor of Return of the Living Dead, I watched that one less frequently (and then mostly for the boobies) because it just didn't please the purist in me. Because, you know, one is capable of being a zombie purist, especially when one is a huge fucking nerd.

For example, Darin and I saw the remake of Dawn of the Dead when it was in theatres, and we enjoyed it, but I was left a little wanting. There were plenty of scares, and the gore factor was nicely balanced by the suspense factor, but I like my zombies to be slow moving menaces, rather than lightening fast maniacs. It's what separates the Zombies from the Tasmanian Devils. Again, me=zombie purist.

I still haven't seen 28 Days Later, or Land of the Dead (the former because I hear it's not exactly zombies, and they are of the Tasmanian Devil variety, anyway, and the latter just because I haven't had time -- hey, even zombie purists have work to do, you know) but Anne and I finally got around to watching Shaun of the Dead last night.

Holy shit. What a fucking brilliant movie! I kept hearing about how great it was, but I was reluctant to believe all the hype. (Purist, remember? Okay! Fine! Not Purist! Snob! There! I admitted it! Are you happy now? I AM A ZOMBIE SNOB AND I DON'T CARE WHO KNOWS IT!!!!11) Not only is it a brilliant zombie movie, it's a wonderful story about friendship, love, the importance of a good pint, and how there is greatness in just about everyone, even if it takes a zombie invasion to bring it out. I gave it five severed heads and nine out of nine chainsaws, for those of you who like to score this sort of thing.

And though it goes without saying, I'm going to say it anyway: if you have even the tiniest bit of affection for the living dead, you will positively love Twilight Creations' Zombies!!!

Zombies!!! puts you in the middle of the action as you try to escape the ever advancing zombie horde. Players must use a combination of wits and brawn to be the first to the heliport and certain escape. The only problem is, the zombies are everywhere, they appear to be very hungry and your opponents would really prefer if you didn't escape.

The basic set puts you in Small Town USA, and they've got several expansions, which add military bases (complete with glow in the dark zombies! for reals!) shopping malls, and even a cabin which is susipciously similar to Evil Dead 2. It's more fun than eating a skullfull of brains, dontchaknow.

Posted by Wil at 1:32 PM | Permalink | Comments (56) | TrackBacks (1)

Last Friday's WWdN poker tourney at PokerStars was an epic success . . . I even went out bluffing with the hammer!

96 people showed up to play, and as far as I can tell everyone had a great time, especially my CardSquad cohorts Derek and Joanne, who both made the final table, which included some of the greatest poker bloggers on the Internets.

Joanne eventually ran over everyone to get heads up with whoisspain, before she won the tourney. Congratulations, Joanne! The general consensus in pokerblogistan is that Joanne knows what the hell she is doing, and April and Iggy  encouraged her to blog about it, so we can steal all her great ideas and kick her out of the band. Luckily for us, Joanne wrote a fantastic series of posts at CardSquad discussing her tournament strategy, and how she arrived at it. The boobies is here, and it's up to part six as I write this today. I highly recommend it for anyone who is thinking about playing in any tournaments, including our weekly WWdN affairs.

Speaking of! I've made a couple of changes to the tourney this week: the starting time is a bit later, and the tourney is named in honor of Decker711 who busted me out when my hammer bluff ran into his AK. (I had outs until he flopped two pair. Yeah.) I think that I'll use that criteria to name the tourneys, at least for the near future, unless someone can come up with something better (like giving me piles of cash for the naming rights, for instance)

Here are all the details. Feel free to pass them around to your friends and neighbors!

What: WWdN: Decker711 Invitational
Where: PokerStars.
When: Friday, October 21st. 7:00 PM EST
Password: monkey
Tournament number: 13788952
Buy-in: $10+1

I hope that the later starting time and longer notice can accomodate a few more players than last week. Remember that this is a semi-private affair, open to anyone who knows the password is "monkey."

Posted by Wil at 10:45 AM | Permalink | Comments (28) | TrackBacks (1)

Via Pre$$titutes:

"The right-wing talk-merchants who, until Air American Radio came along had the AM dial pretty much to themselves, complain constantly that the mainstream media has a left-wing, anti-Bush bias. So too the cable news chatterers. Much of the public believes this myth because it is repeated so often – not, to be sure, on the strength of the evidence which clearly proves otherwise.

"On CNN's "Crossfire, Paul Begala reported the following results of a Nexis-Lexis Search:

"There were exactly 704 stories in the [2000] campaign about this flap of Gore inventing the Internet. There were only 13 stories about Bush failing to show up for his National Guard duty for a year. There were well over 1,000 stories - Nexus stopped at 1,000 - about Gore and the Buddhist temple. Only 12 about Bush being accused of insider trading at Harken Energy. There were 347 about Al Gore wearing earth tones, but only 10 about the fact that Dick Cheney did business with Iran and Iraq and Libya."

"The advantage of the myth of the liberal media to Bush and the Republicans is enormous. To those who believe it, if a story favorable to Bush and the GOP appears, the response is "it must be true, since even the liberal media reports it." And critical stories? "Don't believe it, it's just the liberal media dissing our President again."

The "Liberal Media" myth is a laughable farce, but it's a tribute to the tenacity of the Right Wing Noise Machine that it's become accepted fact by so many otherwise intelligent people.

Link to full post, at spun and spinning.

Posted by Wil at 9:31 AM | Permalink | Comments (9)

The earthquake in Pakistan was really hard for me to wrap my head around. I mean, I've lived with earthquakes my entire life, and I've lived through some really huge and terrifying ones, but nothing that even begins to approach the magnitude (pardon the pun) of the Pakistan quake earlier this month. Coming on the heels of Katrina and Rita, I have to admit that I was suffering from a major case of tragedy overload, and I didn't really know what to say or do about it.

Just now, I read a story at Yahoo! News about natural disasters that brought the catastrophic enormity of the disaster into sharp, horrifying focus.

Of the estimated 61,000 people who have died this year due to natural disasters, about 50,000 (according to today's estimate) were victims of the 7.6 earthquake that struck Pakistan Oct. 7. In 2004, by contrast, more than 60 percent of the total natural disaster deaths were caused by the tsunami in the Indian Ocean.

The whole story talks about how it's not Mother Nature who is changing, as much as we who scurry about the planet are. "Earth might seem like a more active and dangerous place than ever, given the constant media reports of multiple natural disasters recently. But a broader view reveals that it's not Mother Nature who's changed, but we humans." It goes on to say "Drawn by undeveloped land and fertile soil, people are flocking to disaster-prone regions.

This creates a situation in which ordinary events like earthquakes and hurricanes become increasingly elevated to the level of natural disasters that reap heavy losses in human life and property."

Environmentalists have been succesfully demonized by the Right Wing Noise Machine, and some of the loonies out there don't exactly help the cause, but we've only got one planet to live on right now, and it's clear that we who scurry about on her surface are having an impact on how well she handles us. It's something to think about, at least.

This diary at DailyKos has a fantastic list of organizations who can provide relief to the people in Pakistan who desperately need it right now. If you can help out, please do.

Posted by Wil at 7:17 PM | Permalink | Comments (16)

As a fringe benefit for writing the articles everyone visits the site to read, I have a membership at Suicide Girls, where I get to read lots of cool articles.

Seriously, the pretty ladies are nice and all, but there's a whole lot more going on at SG, too. We put some great stories on the newswire, and the interviews are just outstanding, like this one with Danny Elfman that I read this afternoon.

DRE: Do you have any desire to play live music anymore?

ELFMAN: Not really. Let me put it this way, I have no desire ever to be on an Oingo Boingo stage again.

DRE: Why not?

ELFMAN: I can’t get in front of a stage that loud again. I spent 17 years in a band in front of monitors and it fucked up my ears. It was insanely loud. I was standing in front of four monitors blasting my own voice into my head which has to be louder than the band to be able to sing and hear yourself during these fucking two and a half, three hour shows. Then it all has to be louder than 6000 screaming audience members. Believe me when I say this, it was louder than anything you can imagine. I really got to the point where if I stayed in that environment any longer I would be deaf right now.

DRE: Obviously, that would be highly detrimental to you.

ELFMAN: Yeah and as a result I’ve gotten some pretty shitty hearing levels. Which is a big problem and it’s gotten to be a worse problem as I go. So the thought of getting out into that level, I mean I can’t even take really loud clubs anymore. If I walk into a restaurant or a club where it’s loud it physically hurts. It feels like I’m getting daggers in my head.

The Halloween concert at Irvine Meadows, then at the Universal Ampitheatre, were as much a Los Angeles tradition as anything else here, right up until the farewell show back in 1995. I was holding out hope that there may be some sort of reunion show, but I guess that won't ever happen. Which is fine with me, because I have tremendous respect and affection for Danny Elfman, and hearing is sort of important and stuff.

If you're a fan of Boingo, or any of Danny Elfman's other work, you should seriously check it out. There's a lot of stuff in there about not scoring Spiderman 3, scoring Ed Wood, and how (not) crazy the Boingo days were.

Note: All the SG links in this post are technically safe for work, but it may be a little borderline for some people. You've been warned, so don't bitch at me if your [husband | boss | mother | bartender] bitches at you about it.

Posted by Wil at 7:17 PM | Permalink | Comments (15)

This is the best Photoshop contest in history. I can't remember the last time something on the Internets made me laugh so hard, tears rolled down my face and my stomach hurt.

Start at the top, and just scroll down.

Bravo, Farkers. I am in awe of your skills.

Posted by Wil at 3:37 PM | Permalink | Comments (13)

I don't care about rankings at all, because that sort of thing really only matters for marketing and ad sales, neither of which are particularly important to me right now.

But I laugh out loud whenever The Chicago Sun-Times mentions me, and whatever my Technorati rank currently is, in their Sunday paper.

To wit:

News Item: Wil Wheaton Dot Net www.wilwheaton.net, ranked by the number of sources that link to it, falls from the 16th most important blog in the world to an all-time-low 37th most important blog in the world.

News Item: Approval rating for President Bush falls to an all-time-low 39 percent.

I think I read somewhere that Technorati has some new ranking algorithm that includes frequency of posts, in addition to the number of sources that link a particular site, so it's no surprise that WWdN has dropped so much, since I haven't been posting there for the last twenty days or so.

 But now I have a real incentive to get WWdN fixed, so I can put as much distance as possible between myself and Commander Kookoo Bananas!

Posted by Wil at 1:34 AM | Permalink | Comments (18)

After playing tournaments every day for almost a month, and then hitting a terrible losing streak, I just wanted to walk away from poker for a bit. It's been a nice break, but I've recently started to get the itch to play again.

Anne and I went to Vegas yesterday for the opening of the new Blue Man Group show at Venetian (full review is coming soon -- short review: it's awesome). We stayed at Mirage, and though I was more interested in sitting with my wife than sitting at a poker table, walking past the poker room reminded me of how much I miss the damn game.

So, I think I'll get back on the horse with a WWdN semi-private tournament, this Friday afternoon. It's just a $10+1 buy-in, so it's affordable for most people. To come and play with me and other WWdN readers, sign up for PokerStars and then when you log in, go to Tourneys -> Private -> WWdN: Where's My Burrito? Invitational, or you can just search for tournament number 13722477. The tournament will happen on Friday the 14th at 4:00PM EST. I know this is a little early for West Coast players, but it should make it easier for international players to join us. The password is "monkey."

In easy-to-cut-and-paste-into-your-own-blog form:

What: WWdN Where's My Burrito? Invitational
Where: PokerStars.
When: Friday, October 14th. 4:00 PM EST
Password: monkey
Tournament number: 13722477
Buy-in: $10+1

This tournament is open to anyone who reads WWdN or WWdN:IE, or who happens to know that the password is monkey. :)

It should be fun, a nice warm-up to the PokerStars Blogger Tourney, and if enough people show up (and enjoy it, of course) I will make it a weekly event, with the time (and buy-in) rotating to accomodate everyone who wants to play. As an added incentive, I'll name the next tournament after the player who knocks me out.

I know two days is short notice, but I hope lots of you can make it. I'll be sure to give more notice for future tourneys.

I hope to see you there!

Posted by Wil at 9:54 PM | Permalink | Comments (52) | TrackBacks (2)

This is crossposted to blogging.la.

In addition to countless lies, denying basic civil rights to gays and lesbians, and calling an unnecessary special election with powergrabs that masquerade as "reform," I present yet another reason Arnold Schwarzenegger makes me want to puke. Last week, while firefighters were battling the Topanga fire, the Governor flew in for a George Bush-esque photo-op, and several firemen say they were ordered to stand with him for the cameras. It's an outrageous insult to firefighters to force them to pose for a photo-op with this idiot, who is doing everything he can to silence their union with prop 75.

A few firefighters were bold enough to complain they were ordered to stand behind the governor against their will on the day of the news conference, KCAL 9’s Linda Breakstone reported. Seven more came forward Wednesday. “We did not want to do it,” Los Angeles County firefighter Greg Alldredge said. “Then it came down as an order directly from above.” Firefighters were "ordered and forced" to participate, Alldredge said. Rank-and-file firefighters were very displeased with "having to shake hands with somebody who really doesn't support us.” Schwarzenegger's press secretary says "No one from the governor's office ordered anyone to do anything.

Could it have come from his campaign office, and not his Sacramento office? I guess it could depend on what your definition of "office" is.

Updated: via comments, I see the Governor's incredibly compassionate, thoughtful, appreciative response to the firefighters' criticism:

Schwarzenegger later brushed off criticism of the stunt. He says everybody is ordered to do things at one point or another. He also pointed out that "as a matter of fact, in one of my movies, I played a firefighter."

It's almost like the word "asshole" was invented specifically for him. He played a firefighter once in a movie, and we're supposed to believe that fact is somehow relevant to anything. Well, actually, it is. It shows how arrogant, out of touch, and clueless this coddled celebrity who's playing governor actually is.

Posted by Wil at 11:55 AM | Permalink | Comments (32)

Wow. According to C|Net, there are fourteen million blogs on The Internets . . . and their editors have selected WWdN for inclusion in their top 100.

I don't usually care about things like this, because they're so subjective, and it's too easy to obsess over what lists I'm on or not on, and what my ranking is or isn't, but the blogs on this list are all really fantstic. It's a real honor to be included with them.

. . . I guess I'd better hurry up and get WWdN working again, huh?

Posted by Wil at 9:09 AM | Permalink | Comments (12)

Several WWdN readers who have temporarily joined us here in exile (*wave*), wrote in this morning to inform me that I've earned a spot in another Joy Of Tech comic.

Clicky for teh funnay.

I haven't had time to see Serenity, yet. I was too busy to attend both of the screenings I was invited to, but I hope to see it before the end of next week. I hear it's fantastic.

Posted by Wil at 1:13 PM | Permalink | Comments (31) | TrackBacks (1)

In Games of our Lives this week, I took a big risk and tackled an incredibly popular coin-op game: Moon Patrol. I sent my editor about 45000 words, which he skillfully cut down into 300-ish good ones.

Witness:

Gameplay: The moon isn't very safe, and thanks to budget cuts, your buggy explodes as readily as a 1972 Pinto. Luckily, you've tricked it out with a dashboard Jesus, lasers, and hydraulic shocks, so you can blast the rocks and jump over the bottomless craters that get in your way.

Kids today might not like it because: They can't pick up a hooker, nail her in the back of their moon buggy, then kick her out, run her over, and take her money.

Kids today might like it because: Moon Patrol is much more realistic than the car-racing games they're used to playing.

It's easier to do games that people may not have crystal clear memories of, and passionate attachements to, because if I don't cover that game exactly the way they want me to, people can get really worked up. When I poked fun at Midnight Magic, some Atari Nerds wished that I would die. Because I wrote a humorous column about a game that is over 20 years old. Uhh . . . yeah.

So I'm a little nervous about the reaction to Moon Patrol, but no matter what happens, I got to sneak in a Futurama joke, (which made me almost as happy as my Obscurity Hall of Fame reference to Jon Byner in Anteater), so I am TEH WINNAR!!11

Posted by Wil at 5:18 PM | Permalink | Comments (17)

So the best candidate to replace Justice O'Connor on the Supreme Court of the United States just happens to be a sycophantic Bush Crony who lead the search.

Wow. What are the odds?

Posted by Wil at 4:57 PM | Permalink | Comments (13)

I've written a post at Card Squad which may be of interest to WWdN:iE poker readers.

If I adhere to the "it's just one long session" philosophy, I am still way in the black . . . but for the last thirty days, I am seriously in the red, and poker just isn't very much fun. In fact, I haven't picked up a deck of cards, or logged into PokerStars in almost two weeks, because I am so sick to death of losing. It's frustrating, it feels like a waste of time, and it's hard to go into a game with a positive attitude.

The experience is uncomfortably similar to the long streaks of fruitless auditions I've experienced the last several years. Attitude is an incredibly important part of success, and it is sofaking hard to let past defeats go, and face each new deal hoping for the best, ready to play to the best of my ability. It's easy to fear that I'm a lousy player who got lucky, or even worse, just another mediocre player who isn't able to realize that he just isn't that good. 

Wow, that's a perfect metaphor for auditions, too, I just realized. I have to go think about that for as long as it takes to smoke a cigar.

If you're interested, my post is called Riding Out the Bad Times.

Posted by Wil at 4:51 PM | Permalink | Comments (9)

My friend and fellow ACME-ite Greg Benson is one of the funniest people I've ever had the pleasure of knowing. If you saw ACME Love Machine, Greg played Dave in my William's Tell sketch, and he also wrote and played the title character in Let's Gab with Saul Bernstein.

He has a production company called Mediocre Films ("They're better than they sound"), and one of his super-short films (1:39) is a finalist in the Amazon.com Tribecca Film Festival. It's called Coming Home. I don't want to tell you anything else about it, but I will tell you that I didn't rate it five stars because Greg is my friend. I rated it five stars because it's that good — it made it to the top five out of 297 films for a reason, after all.

So if you've got a minute and thirty-nine seconds . . . well, plus the time it takes to click the link and sign in, then you watch the film and vote on it . . . okay, so if you've got two minutes and ten seconds, I  don't think you'll regret taking a look at Coming Home.

Posted by Wil at 6:12 PM | Permalink | Comments (9)

A big problem with the upgrade was trying to switch from a SQLite to MySQL database. To do this, I had to export all my entries (easy) and create an empty MySQL database (also easy). Then I need to reconfigure movable type to look at the MySQL database, instead of the SQLite databse (super easy). Then I rebuild my blog, delete the old SQLite database, and have a Guinness to celebrate (pending.)

Still with me?

Okay. So here's the problem: my export file is 37M, and the server tiems out when it's trying to import that file. I didn't know what to do about that, and all this week, I haven't had the time to figure out a solution. Luckily, Jay told me that I can break up my thirty-seven megabyte text file into as many smaller text files as I want, and import each one. They won't overwrite each other (which is what I thought they'd do), and when I'm done, I should have a fully functional weblog.

However, thirty-seven megs of plain text is a ton of data, and I don't have time to cut it all up, upload, it, and repeat that process probably ten times or so. I probably won't have time until next week. Luckily, I have 26 days remaining before Typepad comes around with a baseball bat and a paper bag.

A quick thought on TypePad: It's awesome. The interface I've been using to update is the nicest WYSIWYG interface I've ever used for anything, and the way they let you choose templates and styles is awesome. In fact, if TypePad had existed back when I started WWdN, I doubt I would have ever configured and installed my software on my own server.

When WWdN comes back, expect it to look and feel a lot like this, but without any of the fixed-width stuff.

Posted by Wil at 9:28 AM | Permalink | Comments (26)

I hope the MMORPG Nerds have a better sense of humor than the Star Wars Nerds, because this is fucking brilliant.

Click the picture for hot, full-sized action.

(Link via boingboing.)

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

I heard Led Zeppelin coming out of Ryan's room, so I put down my Sudoku book (yeah, I've been hooked for about a month), walked down the hall, and knocked on his door.

"Come in," he said.

I opened, and entered his sanctuary: astronomy posters hung from his walls, and a stack of books (Les Miserables, The Count of Monte Cristo, Macbeth, Divine Comedy and a host of other books that your average AP English student with a 4.0 in the class reads*) sat on his desk. A pile of (clean? dirty?) clothes lay in a heap at the foot of his bed. He sat at his desk, looking at The Internets.

He turned around in his chair. "What's up?" He said.

"Oh, I just heard you listening to Zeppelin II, and I didn't want to miss a chance to share in something we both love, that I happened to introduce to you in the pre-Pod days."

"I . . . just wondered what you were doing." I said.

He got very excited. "Oh! I found this awesome Family Guy Website, and I was downloading audioclips from it, and putting them on my computer." He clicked a few times, and showed me the website.

"When I was your age, I did the same thing, with The Prisoner and Star Trek," I said,  "on my Mac II."

He frowned. "Weren't you on Star Trek?"

"Yeah," I said, "but the sounds were from the original series."

He looked back at me.

"So it was geeky, but it wasn't totally lame," I said. Why did I feel like I our ages and roles were reversed?

"What's The Prisoner?" He said.

"A show that I love, that I don't think you're geeky enough to enjoy."

He clicked his mouse, and iTunes fell silent.

"Wil," he said, "you didn't think I'd like Firefly."

"Touche," I said with a smile. "Any time you want to watch The Prisoner, I am so there."

"Actually, any time you want to do anything, I am so there, because I don't want to be a stranger to you for the next five years, and I'll close the gap any way I can."

"Okay," he said. "Maybe after school some day next week."

"When --"

"When my homework's done," he said. "I know, Wil."

He wasn't snotty. He wasn't rude. He wasn't impatient or unpleasant. He just . . . was. I saw a lot of myself in him.

"I need to work my a--" he began, "I need to work very hard this semester."

I nodded my head. "I'm glad you know that, Ryan."

He turned back around to his computer. I stood in his doorway and looked at him for a minute.

"He may not have my DNA, but I've given him some of the things that matter in life," I thought.

"Ryan?"

He didn't turn around. "Hmm?"

"I love you."

"I love you too, Wil."

"Ramble On, And now's the time, the time is now, to sing my song.
I'm goin' 'round the world, I got to find my girl, on my way.
I've been this way ten years to the day, Ramble On,
Gotta find the queen of all my dreams."

*Yes, I'm proud as hell. Sue me.

Posted by Wil at 11:02 PM | Permalink | Comments (30)

For this week's Games of our Lives, I looked back at an awesome game called Cavelon:

Once upon a time, an evil wizard kidnapped a beautiful princess and imprisoned her at the top of a scary tower. She cried and cried until a brave knight entered the castle to battle the wizard and rescue her.

Once upon a different time, some video-game designers turned this story into a pretty cool little game. For reasons that are best left buried in the mists of Avalon, they didn't name it "Magic Tower" or "Happy Princess Rescue." They named it "Cavelon," even though it has nothing to do with caves, and there aren't any lons to speak of.

Kids today might not like it because: There's no Custer's Revenge-style reward when you finally rescue the girl.

Kids today might like it because: Cavelon has real, undeniable retro-gaming charm. After a few games, they're just a waffle-cone away from a full-on 1983 flashback.

I also reviewed NHL06:

Worth playing for: The little details. When the home team gets a penalty, the organ plays "Three Blind Mice" as the player skates into the box, jawing words that look an awful lot like "vacuum" at the referee. The closer you get to the end of the period, the more chopped-up the ice becomes. Between plays, skaters talk to each other, and during the replays, fans (dressed in the home team's jerseys, of course) jump up and down, clap their hands, and cheer.

Final judgment: EA Sports set the standard for sports games a long time ago. NHL 06 meets that standard, but it doesn't bring much new and exciting to the party, which isn't really their fault. There isn't much more to add to an already-fantastic series. If you're a hockey fan, and you haven't played any of the EA Sports NHL titles, where the hell have you been? You're going to love this game. But if you're a longtime fan, you may want to sit this virtual season out.

I'm working on this week's GOOL right now, which is shaping up to be kinda funny.

In an unrelated bit of news, I really like the simple, clean look of WWdN In Exile. I was going for a much cleaner look with the WWdN redesign already, and I think it's going to be more like what you see here: two columns, simple navigation, lightweight graphics.

Posted by Wil at 9:03 AM | Permalink | Comments (17)

It's so frustrating and annoying that I can't blog at WWdN, especially since now is the most important time to talk about Do You Want Kids With That? as I get closer to its release.

I have a very finite amount of time and energy right now, and I'd rather invest them in creative areas, rather than the tail-chasing technical bullshit I've been working on since Friday.

So I'm going to keep this backup blog to write in until I get the main blog at WWdN finished.

Welcome to WWdN in exile!

Posted by Wil at 10:30 AM | Permalink | Comments (37)