Fruit Snacks

2007-08-21

Am I the only one that believes that the word "fruit" should no longer be allowed to appear on the label of any, so called, "fruit snack"?  I applaud the effort that manufacturers take in citing their sources, but I am skeptical of their actual fruit content.  Sure, fructose may have "fru" in it, but I dobut that it is a fruit, per say.  If we had to draw a pyramid, which we do, at the top would be an apple, followed by Juicy Juice (not nearly as juicy as it claims) which contains 100% real juice.  This would be followed by fruit juice (which is down to about 30% juice these days, and thus, less juicy than Juicy Juice).  Below that, Sprite, which contains the juice of one limon in every can.  Then, below that, mold.  Mold isn't a fruit, but it grows.  Below this, we have fruit snacks, which were most likely conceived by a person who was at least vaugely familiar with the concept of what a fruit is.  I understand that it would be far less marketable to name products what they really are, such practices would lead to a third of the aisles at the grocery being marked as "Sugar" or "Kraft Sugar".  I'm just saying, we should mark it closer to what it is.  My suggestion, "Fruit-Inspired Snack Product."  Think about it, it'll catch on.

Action Romance

2007-08-16

This isn't exactly deep or anything, just something of an observation, or perhaps, a suggestion to the powers that be in Film Land (which is located somewhere between Videogame Land and France).  I was watching a Jackie Chan film called Gorgeous the other day, which was cool because I haven't seen a Chan film in a while, perhaps this was some sort of mental preperation for Rush Hour 3.  Now, I'm not sure about this, I'm no peralegal or anything, but I think its a law that Jackie Chan must punch something at  some point during any movie he appears.  Hey, don't judge, I'm sure in China they find some of our laws strange too.  Surely, if it is not a law, it is at the very least a firm suggestion.  Naturally, when the fights broke out, I was not at all surprised, well, maybe surprised that he didn't die, but that's different.  In fact there were some really cool sequences that reminded me why I fell in love with Hong Kong action in the first place (by comparison American look like they are fighting in molasses, must be all the corn syrup in us) .  The thing that I found most noteable about this movie, though, was the plot.  You see, unlike most other Jackie Chan films, Jackie's master didn't die, his father didn't die, his grand father didn't even die for that matter.  There was no revenge, no brutal rivalry (friendly rivalry for sure, but no brutal one).  In fact, (and I hate to say it) it was really more of a love story.  I know, I know.  We guys spend so much time avoiding your average romantic comedy that its damn near an egregious offense to rent one willingly and without a female wrapped around your arm.  You see, if your being forced to rent one by your significant other, than you are simply a hostage with a strong case of Stockholm Syndrome, you really have no options.  Anything else is a serious breach of man etiquitte.

The thing about Gorgeous, is that it has just about everything a man could want in a movie.  Sweet fight scenes.  Some berief motorcycle stunts.  Hell, it even had a training montage people... a montage.  Really I think what we've stumbled upon is a new genre here, the Action Romance.  I advocate that more such films be made.  Its a great way to broaden your audience and please couples that are unable, or unwilling, to come to common grounds on which movie to view on a Friday night.  Don't believe me?  Picture this: When Harry Met Sally, classic, heart-warming, grade-A romantic comedy, right?  Total breach of man etiquette.  Now picture, When Harry Met Sally And Then Sally Met A Ninja... that my friends, is something, in the entertainment business, that we like to call "gold".

Narrate Me Part 2

2007-08-10

It is no small thing to browse the Science Fiction/Fantasy section. As my stalwart colleague has alluded to in his esteemed post below this 'un, it is an investment nothing short of emotional. Charged, pregnant. With emotion.

For one thing, all the normal rules of book buying cease to exist in this geeky sanctum. You do and should judge a book by it's cover, as cover art in SciFi/fan often reveals how bankrolled/successful said author is. I.E. authors who produce generic crap nearly always have the same sad, pastel-like dragons because their publisher couldn't care less about his/her lasting image, whereas authors who produce actual literature get the distinct honor of having actual art on their cover. Both are about making money, but the former is more akin to milking a cow (the author) entirely dry of its milk (the book) before gaining extra profit by slaughtering said cow (or never publishing another of aforementioned author's books.)

This is just one example - for brevity's sake, you will have to take my word on the rest and presently we can get back to the point: Purchasing sci-fi novels is an experience requiring committment.

And it is the tone of this experience that colors the sensation of reading the actual book. For me, a SciFi/fan purchaser of prodigiously embarrassing degrees, there is no more crucial moment than this, the moment of buying. You see, unlike normal Fiction, there are no guarantees of quality in a genre like sci-fi. Though we walk the same tight-rope as all consumers, we do so without the benefit of a safety net. For when a sci-fi book stinks, it stinks almost vindictively, and when a sci-fi book amazes, it amazes with the brilliance of a sunrise.

Oh, and this post has nothing to do with narration.

Narrate Me

2007-08-05

It all started fairly innocently.  Knowing I had a cross country flight from the East Coast back to the West Coast the next day, I purchased a book to keep my mind occupied.  Originally, I was looking for a William Gibson novel: Neuromancer.  Often regarded as the template for modern cyber punk, I was inerested in obtaining a copy as it had come reconmended by my father that morning.  Neuromancer.  I made my way to Barnes and Nobles that day between visits to Dick's Sporting Goods and the cigar shop (which smelled heavly of smoke and tobacco, I don't know why that came as such a surprise to me).  It was there in the SciFi / Fantasy that I found a copy of Neuromancer.  I then browsed the aisles of the SciFi / Fantasy section.  This is in itself an interesting experience as I feel somewhat at home there yet somewhat outcast at the same time.  Simply being in the SciFi / Fantasy section is a statement in itself.  You can not be there with out revealing to the world at least something about your self, like the New Age section or the Self-Help section.  I walk up and down the ailse not really knowing what I'm doing there.  I don't read enough to know many authors by name, and, these being books and all, the words are all that really matter.  On occasion, I would glance at a particularly interesting book cover, but it was difficult to glean much information from these covers as the rules of SciFi / Fantasy novel covers state that your cover must have: A planet, space ship, or space stations, or, alternately, a sword, a dragon, or a dragon sword, depending on if your book tended more towards SciFi or Fantasy...  Similarly, Fantasy book titles may be composed of the words: Dragon, Sword, Dragon Sword, Fire, Fire Dragon Sword, or Castle (including any of its synonyms, keep, hold, fortress, etc.).  Listlessly I wandered the Elf covered shelves of Barnes and Nobles when I happened upon a name I found familiar: Gaiman... Wasn't he the guy who did Sandman and The Books of Magic?  Indeed, he was one and the same.  There stood his book, American Gods.  Figuring that I lived in America, and I was fairly fond of Gods, this book would probably be a good fit for me.  Discarding my Gibson novel, I picked up Gaiman's American Gods, and ever since then, my life has been narrated...

Now I am but a character in the prose of my own life, which since, has taken on a life of its own.  I voice recounts the actions of life as they happen around, much like my own, only more poetic.  Of course it would have to be my own voice, because surely anything else would be insanity.  Sometimes I am the controller of the voice and the narration becomes a direct representation of my thoughts.  Sometimes the voice can not be heard at all, and is simply implied.  Even now, I have not yet figured out of this is a piece of narrative fiction itself, or a confession.

Squeazed in between the moments that my mind is consciously able to process, the narrator speaks.  He sees the story in everything... always sees the story.  Have you ever met someone, and there was a sort of implied chemistry there.  Someone that you knew you would never meet again.  It is in that moment, as you leave, in that fleeting second of regret mixed with curiosity, that the narrator will speak.  The story may be a happy one, perhaps a ballad, of how a chance encounter lead to love at first sight.  Or it may speak of tragedy and how a seemingly innocent mistake resulted in broken hearts.  It may even be an uninteresting story of teusday nights spent watching Heroes.  What ever it may be, there is a story there of which the narrator speaks, and, before you know it, the second has passed and life continues.  All the while, the narrator waits and observes for the next story it will tell.