Archive for the ‘Aimless Riffing’ category

Let’s all warble like nightingales

July 14, 2009

I loves me some Disneyland.

Living, as I do, some 450 miles from the front gates of the Magic Kingdom, I don’t get to visit Uncle Walt’s happiest place on Earth with anything approaching the frequency that I’d like. So, when I found myself attending a convention literally across the street from Disney’s Anaheim resort, I made it my business to squeeze in as many hours of blissful Mickey love as an already jam-packed schedule would permit.

With time at a premium, I had to be selective about the attractions that I visited. That meant taking a pass on a few old favorites with agonizingly lengthy lines — sorry, Peter Pan’s Flight — in favor of getting the most bang for my Disney Dollar. It also meant foregoing some of the most delightful but schedule-consuming parts of the Disney experience — wandering through the three Disney hotels, character dining at Goofy’s Kitchen, cruising the Downtown Disney shopping and dining complex, taking leisurely circuits on the Monorail and the Disneyland Railroad.

Alas. Sometimes, you’ve just gotta get stuff done.

Between three abbreviated trips, though, I managed to get around to most of the attractions that mean Disneyland to me, as well as several new experiences that have appeared on the Disneyscape since my last visit seven years ago. Some of the highlights follow.

Pirates of the Caribbean. Number One on my list since the first time I rode it 37 years ago, and not even an interminable action movie franchise can change that. Unlike many Disneyland fanatics, I’m not such a hardcore traditionalist that I resist change, so I was tickled to see the new tweaks that have been added to Pirates to tie the ride and the films closer together. The appearances of Captain Jack Sparrow and company, in my opinion, actually give the ride more of a thematic through-line. And the Davy Jones mist-projection effect is wicked cool.

Haunted Mansion. Another classic that has benefited from a handful of high-tech upgrades. I love the new talking bride effect in the wedding scene. She’s a fitting companion to Madame Leota and the singing busts.

Toy Story Midway Mania. The newest addition to the offerings at Disneyland’s companion park, Disney’s California Adventure (hereafter referred to as DCA), is worth the trip all by itself. It’s a spectacular melding of a traditional Disney dark ride (it reminded me a lot of Roger Rabbit’s Car Toon Spin) with a shooting gallery video game, with the added flair of 3D. The mothership park has its own newer ride based on a similar concept (Buzz Lightyear’s Astro Blasters), but TSMM kicks the basic notion up about five levels of awesomeness. I could spend hours hopping back into the queue for this one.

Splash Mountain. It’s worth getting soaked — and believe me, I did — to experience one of Disneyland’s best-designed attractions. I’m old enough to recall when most of the Audio-Animatronic characters in the final scene resided in the Tomorrowland attraction America Sings, which long ago retired to Yesterland.

Indiana Jones and the Temple of the Forbidden Eye. I’ve never quite gotten past the bizarre disconnect of finding Indiana Jones in Disneyland, but when it’s working (the technically complex attraction breaks down frequently), this is still an amazingly fun ride. I do wish the Imagineers could find ways to fill in the attraction’s several dead spaces. Then again, if they put more effects in, the ride would probably break down even more often.

Jungle Cruise. My enjoyment of this classic is closely tied to the raconteurial talents of the skipper who guides the tour. Skipper Randy earned a solid B on this trip — nothing fancy or outside the box, but skillfully delivered. I confess a preference for the skips who push the envelope and really make the monologue their own, but I realize that isn’t everyone’s bag.

Enchanted Tiki Room. A visit to Disneyland would be woefully incomplete without a stop at the original Audio-Animatronic attraction. As I told the energetic and enthusiastic cast member on duty during my visit, the Tiki Room never gets old to me. Even in my advancing middle age, I feel no shame in singing along with the animated birds, flowers, and tikis. For 15 minutes, it’s my 1960s Hawaiian childhood all over again. Be sure you get a Dole Whip frozen pineapple dessert at the stand outside. Dole Whip is life.

Big Thunder Mountain Railroad. The older I get, the less of an adrenaline junkie I am — not that I was much of one to begin with. But of all the Disney roller coasters, this one remains my favorite. The ride is less monotonous than Space Mountain — which, aside from the environment, is an awfully pedestrian coaster — and more jarring and electric than the Matterhorn. It’s also the only one where the theming really works. Always a treat.

Soaring Over California. The signs outside this DCA ride warn that people who are afraid of heights may want to skip the experience. No one on the planet is more acrophobic than I am, but I absolutely love this ride. The idea is that you’re soaring in a giant hang-glider over a series of scenic California locations. The effect is achieved through a combination of ride effects and an enormous IMAX screen — and what an effect it is! The one thing that would make this ride more effective is less abrupt transitions between the sequences. Oh… and 3D.

The Many Adventures of Winnie-the-Pooh. When last I visited Disneyland, the Pooh dark ride was still under construction. (Somewhere I have a photo of my daughter sitting in the ride vehicle that was then on display as a teaser for the coming attraction.) I’m glad I finally got to see the finished product. It’s a throwback to such old-school Fantasyland attractions as Snow White’s Scary Adventures and Mr. Toad’s Wild Ride, but with a modern twist. Nicely executed. (Bonus: No wait to ride.)

Monsters Inc.: Mike and Sulley to the Rescue: Another of the newer dark rides, this one at DCA. It’s an excellently themed attraction that makes clever use of the characters from Monsters Inc., though I doubt that the storyline makes much sense to anyone who hasn’t seen the film. For some reason, this ride is tucked away in an obscure corner of DCA that makes it difficult to find — at least, it did for me. I’ve never had to ask for directions at the Disney resort before, but I needed help from a friendly cast member this time.

Sleeping Beauty’s Castle Tour. The walk-through dioramas relating Princess Aurora’s story have been completely redone, incorporating distinctive visual effects. This little gem has always been one of Disneyland’s hidden treasures, but now it’s every bit as stunning as any of the other Fantasyland attractions. Very, very cool.

Independence Day fireworks. The Disney people outdid themselves with the aerial display on the night of July 4th. They threw in several pyrotechnical effects I’d never seen before. I can’t recall the last time I enjoyed a fireworks show as much.

Beyond my unavoidable time constraints, the only disappointment of my Disneyland journey was missing the Finding Nemo retooling of Tomorrowland’s venerable Submarine Voyage. This has always been a slow-loading attraction with a lengthy wait, and with the new theming, everyone who visits the park — especially everyone with Nemo-loving kids — wants to see it. I’ll have to catch it next time around.

Shopping is an essential facet of the Disney experience, and I’m pleased to report that I contributed my fair share to Mickey’s corporate coffers. I brought home souvenirs for the girls: KJ got a sweatshirt, a new Disneyland tote bag to replace the one she’s been carrying for the past seven years, a Mickey mug, and an addition to her spoon collection. KM got a Tinker Bell T-shirt and a Cinderella mug, the latter laser-etched with the legend, “Once a Princess, Always a Princess.” (She’ll need that as a reminder when she heads off to college next month.)

For myself — yes, of course, I bought goodies for myself; it was my trip, right? — I picked up a vintage baseball shirt (memo to Disney Merchandising: stock more apparel in plus sizes, because fat guys spend money too), a rolling tote that will be the new addition to my travel ensemble, and a terrific mug reading, “Beneath this Grumpy exterior beats the heart of a dashing hero.” As Baloo would say, “You’d better believe it!”

After singing my heart out on the BHS International stage and tripping the Disney light fantastic, I capped my Anaheim trip on Sunday afternoon by taking in a baseball game pitting the homestanding Los Angeles Angels of Anaheim against the visiting Baltimore Orioles. More about that in my next post.

Until then, save me a seat in the Tiki Room.

Happy Bastilla Day!

July 14, 2009

If you happen to be in France as you read this, happy Bastille Day.

Only the French would think it a good idea to have a national holiday honoring a prison. I doubt that one could muster much enthusiasm on these shores for, say, San Quentin Day.

Seeing that Bastille Day is a tough sell, I’m proposing an alternative: Bastilla Day.

Sweet, savory Moroccan pie stuffed with chicken, eggs, and almonds, dusted with cinnamon and powdered sugar… who couldn’t get behind that?

My date with the Mitchell Brothers, revisited

July 13, 2009

The hot story around these parts today is the arrest of James Raphael Mitchell, who stands accused of beating his girlfriend to death and kidnapping their infant daughter over this past weekend. (The child was found unharmed and returned safely to her maternal grandmother. Thanks for asking.)

Mitchell is the son of the late Jim Mitchell, of the notorious Mitchell Brothers, once the Pornography Kings of San Francisco. (Marilyn Chambers, Behind the Green Door, the O’Farrell Theatre, Rated Xthose Mitchell Brothers.)

You may recall that back in 1991, Jim killed his high-living sibling Artie — the junior half of the aforementioned Brothers — and ultimately served three years in prison for manslaughter. Post-incarceration, Jim died of a heart attack at his home right here in Sonoma County in 2007.

All of the above simply affords me the opportunity (or excuse — choose the word you prefer) to share with you again the once-told story of my now-legendary interview with Jim and Artie Mitchell, back in the day.

It’s okay… the link is SFW.

Trust me.

Memo to Bill Cosby

July 12, 2009

Dear Cos:

Be careful. Junior Barnes is looking for you, with a snowball in his hand.

Oh, yeah… happy birthday.

Your friend,

Swan

This Swan has flown

June 30, 2009

Those of you who’ve been SSTOL regulars since we were in our previous digs will recall that I’m usually offline during the first week in July.

Well, tomorrow’s July 1. (Happy Canada Day to our northern neighbors.)

I’ll have loads of fun stuff to share when I’m back online in a week.

Until then, keep the faith, keep ’em flying, and for heaven’s sake, keep your celebrities alive.

See you in seven.

What’s Up With That? #79: WWDBD? (What would Debby Boone do?)

June 23, 2009

Here’s a story I would never have expected to read while quaffing my morning java.

Joseph Brooks, the Oscar- and Golden Globe Award-winning songwriter responsible for one of the most insidious earworms ever composed — the saccharine Debby Boone megahit “You Light Up My Life” — has been indicted in New York City for allegedly raping or otherwise sexually assaulting 11 women. Nine of the victims were led to Brooks by way of his Craigslist ad seeking female actors to audition.

I’m certain that the Debster would not approve.

Brooks, who also wrote and directed the film based on his ubiquitous song, directed a handful of other forgettable movies since that 1977 blockbuster — most notably 1985’s Invitation to the Wedding, starring John Gielgud and Ralph Richardson. He also produced and served as musical director for the cult classic Eddie and the Cruisers.

In the late ’80s, Brooks composed the music and co-wrote the lyrics for the musical Metropolis, based on Fritz Lang’s seminal 1927 science fiction film. Apparently the phrase “do the robot” meant something different to Brooks than it meant to Lang.

In light of this and other recent front-page news, one theme rings clear:

When Craigslist calls, do not answer.

At least, not in person, by yourself. Take along backup. There’s safety in numbers.

Maybe see if Debby Boone will go with you.

The world in the palm of my hand

June 18, 2009

Three months ago, I wrote in this space — well, not this space precisely; the other space, the one Blogger won’t let me update any more — about my new Amazon Kindle 2 e-book reader. I promised then that, once I’d had time to explore the device, I’d let you know how I liked it.

The answer is: I like it quite well. Thanks for asking.

In the 100-plus days we’ve spent together, my Kindle 2 and I have become as inseparable as Chang and Eng Bunker. The little flat-screen dickens accompanies me everywhere I might find myself sitting idly waiting for things to happen.

Which means that K2 (as I affectionately call it) and I share a great deal of time in the porcelain throne room.

K2 also makes a boon companion at the hospital and doctor’s offices, where I frequently find myself with a few hours to while away. The only difficulty there is that my reading is constantly interrupted by members of the medical staff quizzing me about the Kindle. Henceforth, I’ll be able to silently hand them cards printed with the URL of this post, so they can go dig up the information for themselves and leave me alone.

I’ve been pleasantly surprised by the ease with which I’ve adapted to reading from the Kindle. Within the first few pages of the initial book I read, I had forgotten the technology and immersed myself in the text. Any qualms I had about the reading experience being unbooklike vanished — I don’t even think about the fact that instead of turning paper pages, I’m thumbing the “Next Page” key.

The “electronic paper” display of the Kindle 2 looks remarkably like the real McCoy, so much so that I honestly don’t sense much difference, if any, between the two surfaces. The K2’s screen background closely mirrors the tone and reflective character of book stock. Because the screen is not backlit, it’s much easier and more comfortable to read from than is an LCD monitor. Although I’ve heard other users opine that a backlight would improve the Kindle reading experience, I don’t find this to be true. I read a lot from a computer screen, but I would much rather read from the Kindle.

The bottom line is that if you’re in an environment where you’d need light to read a book by, you’ll need the identical amount of light to read the Kindle. Unless you’re in the habit of perusing books in utter darkness — in which case, you might think about avoiding garlic and holy water — the Kindle won’t change this aspect of your experience.

I love the fact that, with the Kindle, I can carry a variety of reading material with me, with no added weight. The Kindle weighs slightly more than a thick paperback, but is considerably thinner. Wearing the Belkin zippered slipcase I purchased for it, K2 fits perfectly into my camera bag. With roughly the same logistical effort required to tote a single book about, I can access dozens of volumes at the touch of a tiny joystick. If I finish reading one book, and would like to move on to something new, I can do that without adding one ounce to my load.

The K2’s exterior dimensions work well for my thick-fingered, dexterity-challenged hands. The buttons on the keyboard are tiny and difficult to manipulate, but I rarely use them anyway. The page-turn keys, and the joystick that operates most of the other frequently used functions, are perfectly sized and located. I have no complaints there.

When I purchase a new book, the K2 downloads the volume directly from Amazon via G3 wireless. The download process takes mere seconds. I usually keep the wireless functionality switched off to conserve power — using this tactic, the K2 can go for two or three weeks without recharging. (If I leave the wireless connection on, the battery runs down to shut-off levels within a few days.)

Among the Kindle’s handiest features is an automatic dictionary. Simply move the cursor to any word in the text, and a pop-up window provides a definition. I’m also fond of the resizable text — a benefit that no paper book offers, and one that can be a lifesaver if I’ve forgotten to pick up my reading glasses.

The Kindle comes equipped with a rudimentary Web browser. I don’t use this often, as the size and configuration of the Kindle’s screen isn’t suited to displaying Web pages, nor does the device do more than a barely adequate job of serving up graphics. But if I’m in the middle of reading something, and I want to hop over to, say, Wikipedia to grab some additional information, the wireless Internet access proves mighty handy.

I’ve had little difficulty finding books that I want to read available in Kindle format. Better still, I’ve been ecstatic to discover how many classic, public-domain works can be downloaded free of charge, or for a nominal cost (like a dollar or two). My Kindle library includes such gems as L. Frank Baum’s Oz books, Edgar Rice Burroughs’s Barsoom novels, Arthur Conan Doyle’s complete Sherlock Holmes oeuvre, and the unabridged works of Shakespeare — all of which together cost me less than the price of a cup of coffee.

So, the question is: Do I find the Kindle worth the investment? For me, the answer is an unqualified “yes.”

Can I envision ways that Amazon could improve the product in future iterations? Sure — just as I find the K2 a significant improvement over the somewhat clunky original model. Minor quibbles aside, after 100 days, my Kindle has rendered itself irreplaceable.

I’m not calling it “Precious” yet. But I might.

Quandary

June 17, 2009

Hey, I know I haven’t written anything here in a couple of days. Not to worry, nothing’s wrong. I’ve just been hard at work on other stuff.

And I really haven’t had anything new to say.

Not writer’s block, exactly. Because I’ve been busy writing all week. Just not this kind of writing.

So, I know I can write.

I just don’t have anything to write here.

I feel as though I probably will tomorrow, though.

Time will tell.

Hawaiian I

June 11, 2009

Happy King Kamehameha Day to all of my Hawaiian friends. Save me a hunk of kalua pig, yeah? (I don’t have room in my backyard to dig an imu — that’s the underground oven used to roast a whole pig — so I’m throwing ribs on the grill instead.)

Whenever anyone asks me, “Where are you from originally?” my default answer as a former military brat is, “Everywhere.” If pinned down, however, I’ll say Hawaii.

Although I was born and adopted in Michigan, I spent the formative years of my childhood in the Aloha State. It’s from Hawaii that my earliest memories emanate, and thus it’s the locale I identify as my place of origin. There’s still a part of me that longs to reside there, even though the Golden State Warriors will win the NBA Finals before I’ll persuade my wife to do that.

Our home on Oahu was a little white house in the Honolulu suburb of Ewa Beach (pronounced “eh-vah,” as in, “You Ewa do dat again, brah, I going knock you on yo’ okole“). There was one other house between ours and a beautiful expanse of white sand beach, where I played in those days before parents thought overmuch about what might become of keikis (that’s “small children” to you haoles) left to play alone in public places. (Or perhaps my parents did think about it, and I should have taken that as a hint.) My best friend was a towheaded boy who lived next door, and who also had the same first name as I. We routinely referred to one another as “the other Michael” in a youthful accommodation to identity.

My most vivid recollections of those halcyon days include the time that my mother and I found and rescued a young dolphin beached on our neighborhood shore, and the time I was pinned under a driftwood log and nearly drowned. From the latter incident I acquired a fear of water that persisted for years, preventing me from learning to swim adequately until I was well into adolescence.

Decades later, Hawaiian influences continue to pervade my consciousness. Some of these are linguistic holdovers from my childhood pidgin: I still refer to my belly as my opu, address my friends as “brah,” say “all pau” when I’m finished with something, and shrug off responsibility with the phrase, “That’s not my kuleana.” Other influences are cultural: I’m convinced that my dogged casualness toward life is vestigial Hawaiian.

And, once or twice a month, I have to indulge my craving for Hawaiian food. Nothing says lovin’ like a loco moco (a gravy-covered hamburger topped with a fried egg, served with rice), a slice of Spam musubi (think sushi, only with Spam — yeah, I said Spam — instead of fish), and a steaming bowl of saimin (noodle soup).

I’ve been a Californian for three decades, but my heart remains in the Islands. And why not — we’ve got a Hawaiian in the White House now. You go, brah!

Think I’ll go put on my aloha shirt and sing a few choruses of “The Hukilau Song.” Or maybe “Pearly Shells.”

Aloha!

What’s Up With That? #78: Crunch time

June 8, 2009

The current leader in Uncle Swan’s Moron of the Month Sweepstakes is Janine Sugawara of San Diego, who sued PepsiCo Inc. in federal court because the crunchberries in Cap’n Crunch cereal are not actual berries.

Ms. Sugawara’s lawsuit alleged that during the four years she purchased Cap’n Crunch with Crunchberries, PepsiCo’s subsidiary Quaker Oats defrauded her by leading her to believe that crunchberries were really fruit. Imagine Janine’s shock when, after four years, she discovered that she was actually eating little balls of corn cereal flavored with strawberry concentrate.

In dismissing Sugawara’s suit, Judge Morrison C. England Jr. wrote:

This Court is not aware of, nor has Plaintiff alleged the existence of, any actual fruit referred to as a “crunchberry.” Furthermore, the “Crunchberries” depicted on the PDP are round, crunchy, brightly-colored cereal balls, and the PDP (principal display panel — legalese for “side of the cereal box”) clearly states both that the Product contains “sweetened corn and oat cereal” and that the cereal is “enlarged to show texture.” Thus, a reasonable consumer would not be deceived into believing that the Product in the instant case contained a fruit that does not exist.

Further, Judge England found:

Plaintiff claims Defendant expressly warranted that the Product contains berries. However, that simply is not the case. Defendant chose the moniker “Crunchberries” for its brightly colored cereal balls. As far as this Court has been made aware, there is no such fruit growing in the wild or occurring naturally in any part of the world. Furthermore, a reasonable consumer would have understood the Product packaging to expressly warrant only that the Product contained sweetened corn and oat cereal, which it did. Accordingly, Defendant did not promise Plaintiff that the Product contained fruit, nor did the Product contain anything other than that which was actually expressly warranted.

Crunchberries don’t grow in the wild? Say it ain’t so, Judge!

It’s people like Janine Sugawara — who previously sued Kellogg’s because Froot Loops do not contain actual “froot” — who make a mockery of the American legal system… which does not, in fact, need assistance in that regard.

Next on Sugawara’s hit list: Keebler cookies, which, come to find out, are baked in a factory, and not by elves with magic ovens in hollow trees.