evolution

Apparently, the Writer’s Guild members are starting to get antsy, and some are contemplating… writing for video games:

But while Hollywood screenwriters have become more involved in scripting games in the past few years, it’s not necessarily seen as a good move by people who would normally work on film and TV projects.

This is down to a generally lower fee level – the article cites USD 50,000 as a typical figure, although this can increase with additional involvement – and a long contract time, sometimes as much as 6 months.

I thought that when G4 sold out and starting airing fare geared toward those punks you see Tokyo Drifting their way to Sonic in Honda Civics with 5″ tailpipes and shirts with flaming dragons on them that maybe the end was nigh for video games. I thought they would become as stale and formulaic as TV and movies have. I never imagined that the actual writers of those TV shows and movies would be involved in games.

They aren’t now, and I hope that it remains that way.

A British teacher in Sudan faces 40 lashes for allowing children to name a teddy bear “Mohammed”, the name that won the popularity contest among the kids. Or she might be released – the enlightened administration in Sudan might be too busy driving Sudanese from their homes and murdering them to punish this woman.

But, it’s nice to know that naming a teddy bear after the Prophet is only one-fifth as bad for a woman as being seen with an unrelated man in public and then being gang-raped by seven men. For that, it’s 200 lashes. (It’s worth noting that the men were also sent to prison for sentences of varying terms).

The government statement said that according to the woman’s signed confession, she called a man on her cell phone and “asked to be with him alone, illegally.” The two met at a marketplace, then rode in the man’s car to “a dark area of the beach, and stayed there for some time,” the ministry said.

The group of attackers “saw her in a compromising situation, her clothes on the ground,” the statement said. “The men at this point assaulted her and the man with her.”

The woman knew that being alone with a man who wasn’t her husband was illegal, “and therefore she violated the covenant of marriage.” However, the woman was engaged — not married — at the time.

After the incident, the woman and the man did not come forward about the assaults or press charges until someone contacted the woman’s husband “telling him what happened, and about his wife’s affair and adultery,” the ministry said. “She then confessed … the husband therefore came forward to the police and formally complained nearly three months after the incident.”

The woman and her companion “exposed themselves to this heinous crime, causing the crime to take place because of their violations of the pure Sharia ruling” — the country’s strict Islamic law.

The case was handled through regular court procedures, and the woman, her male companion and the attackers all agreed in court to the initial sentences, the government said in a previous statement.

So, who wants a couple of million barrels of oil?

UPDATE: Prince Saud al-Faisal is promising that the Saudi justice ministry will “review” the case, and whines that the case is being “used against the Saudi government and people.” He can’t have it both ways — the modern way and the 11th century way — forever.

My renewed commitment to writing is off to an inauspicious start. I wanted to write about the comments of a certain sawed-off Archbishop of Canterbury, but Bill already did. I also wanted to write about the D.C. gun ban case before the Supreme Court (which I was wrong about — SCOTUS did grant cert, which scares me to death), but Bill already did. The Archbishop of Canterbury piece ends with a natural twenty and a critical hit that you really should read.

Maybe Bill should write this blog. I’m sure an increase in quality will result. There’s certainly nowhere to go but up.

Well, not that way.

I’m talking about a new project that will result from my involvement with the World Company’s Citizens’ Journalism Academy sometime back. I really can’t say more than that, other than that I intend to be involved.

But, they won’t (with good reason, of course) let me be involved in the project under any other moniker than my real name. Either way, I intend to keep the big e alive, because I pay my own way here. I don’t blog at or about work, so I think I can say what I want.

What do you think?

UPDATE: Oh yeah — I also need a name for this project. “evolution” is taken, and right out. I thought of using Operation: Mindcrime, which is a badass name, but I don’t want to get sued by Queensrÿche.

And believe you me — you don’t want to be sued by people with an umlaut in their name.

UPDATE 2: And, I think I need a new picture. The pretentious “artist’s rendering” picture of me on the “About” page was taken five years ago. The only condition is that it must feature a certain lecherous you-know-what. Any ideas?

[Note: I have repeated this post every year for the last three, because it's still the funniest Thanksgiving story I've ever heard. The events described herein took place on Thanksgiving Day, 2004.]

Thanksgiving was certainly exciting. Present for dinner were Mom, Pat, Grandma, Grandpa, and Michael (evolution’s counter-terrorism expert, whose family will meet on Sunday). Pat was at the kitchen counter carving the turkey, and Mom was setting all the side dishes on the table — mashed potatoes, sweet potatoes, Waldorf salad, dressing, and green bean casserole (you know, with the french-fried onions on top). This was the first family dinner at this table — Mom and Pat had just bought it after having eyeballed similar oak tables for years.

The rest of us were seated at the table, waiting for Grandma to say the customary prayer of thanks. Pat had just poured the last glass of white Zinfandel, and Mom was about to set the last dish on the table.

Then, a great crash!, and before any of us knew what the hell had happened, the table had collapsed into our laps! Thanks to the lightning-fast reflexes of Grandpa (who is 71, having survived a mild stroke two years ago) and Michael, no food hit the deck. The drinks, including a whole bottle of wine, were a total loss — but miraculously, no dishes were broken and no one — including my wheelchair-bound grandmother — was injured. Michael and I quickly dug the old table (which was to go in my kitchen) out, and set it up. We quickly set the table while Grandpa, a retired machine-shop employee, determined the cause of the collapse. We got the table reloaded, Mom said the prayer (which was accompanied by several snickers from the rest of us), and we enjoyed the dinner, which was excellent as always.

This morning, the person that sold us the table received a quite persnickety phone call from Mom.

I hope you and yours had a happy Thanksgiving, wherever you may be.

That would be this.

Listen to your favorite here.

I need to figure out how to make that my ringtone.

UPDATE: Mission accomplished. I pity tha foo who calls my phone. I also got the theme from Airwolf and the original Battlestar.

I daresay this is a “f*** yeah” moment.