Thinking it would be an easy matter to convert video from DVD to PSP, I rented Season 1 of the new Battlestar Galactica, which I have been sorta curious about ever since it came out- especially since lately it's been touted as one of the finest shows on television. I figured I could watch it on the bus to work, but the power of conversion eludes me. So I just watched the first episode on my TV. Kickass! The trouble is, now I have to watch the whole series. Does anyone know how to do the conversion? I'm kinda like the crew of the Battlestar- only old computers on board.
Here's a cool painting from deviantArt:

Battlestar Galactica by *jasonpal on deviantART

Check out these alternate designs for the cylons. And here's a funny Weird Al song on YouTube comparing the two series. I loved the original series when I was a kid, I even had a bunch of the toys and comic books, and I was horrified to see an episode as an adult and realize how cheesy it was. Though I still love the themesong, which was worked in rather cleverly into the pilot episode of the new show. But I'd say the new series is pretty much cheese-free.
How's this for cheesy? When I was four years old, and my parents would take me to watch the fireworks, I would pretend it was a space battle with Starbuck and Apollo shooting down cylon ships. Every time a firework would go off I'd yell "Good shot Starbuck!" or "Way to go Apollo!"
Uh, yeah. It would be best if you never repeated that to anyone.

PSPs have been sprouting like weeds amongst the guys on my crew. On the bus they'd pull them out and those of us who were PSPless would watch in envy as they played against each other via Bluetooth. Even my Dad decided he wanted one. I thought they were cool but not really worth the expense. But they went on sale for crazy cheap so I bought one. Dad did too. Yay! I think of it as an mp3 player that can do other stuff too. Finally I can listen to music at work that doesn't suck. My XM Radio subscription expired and it was kind of a failed experiment even if we had some good times.
So, anyone know any good podcasts? You know the kind of stuff I like. Stuff to think about on nightshift.
Remember that Roald Dahl set Michelle got me for Christmas? Right now I'm reading Going Solo, which is part 2 of his autobiography (part 1 wasn't in the set, which is like putting Charlie and the Great Glass Elevator but not the Chocolate Factory in it). It's hilarious and fascinating. He seems to take the same approach to life as he did to writing children's books- just soak it all in and revel in the wonder of it all. That guy lived quite a life. Even without a PSP.

The Case of the Missing Purple Gasoline
On Christmas Eve, Jamie, Jason and I snuck away early from work. We'd've been fools not to- we all got to quit early to drive the haultrucks down to park them in the main shop which is also where the parking lot is. We were supposed to turn around and ride the other way 20 kms back to our locker room to catch the bus which would then drive us back the same 20 kms to drop us off at the parking lot. So why drive an extra 40 kms when we could just leave from there? Makes sense, right?
The only minor inconvenience to that plan is we were still in our work clothes. So rather than burden the truck with extra, unnecessary hardhats, I suggested we store them in the KalTire truck which was always in the parking lot and never seemed to move. Jason thought this was a fine idea, and we chucked our hats into the truck. Jamie, however, had qualms and took his helmet home. And so we all enjoyed our Christmas break, with an extra hour thrown in due to our cleverness.
Of course, when we returned to work two days later the KalTire truck was gone.
Jamie had a good laugh and I once again called on my cleverness to rustle up me and Jason some lids. No big deal, though my hardhat had three unique things that I regret losing- my name was on it, as well as a 36-Year Safety sticker (kind of exaggerated, that), and a LED headlamp that is indispensible when I work outside, especially at night.
This week at work, my coworker Randy mentioned that we could get batteries for our headlamps, so I pointed out what I thought was an obvious fact- I no longer had a headlamp. I explained what happened and Randy said he would try and visit KalTire to retrieve our helmets.
At the end of the night he took me aside and informed me that KalTire was accusing Jason and I of siphoning half a tank of gas from the truck. And leaving our hardhats behind as evidence.
"That's ridiculous- I'm not a thief and also I'm not a moron."
Randy agreed, saying the accusation was insulting and stupid. Siphoning gas is pretty much impossible, and the other possibility was that we stole the truck. Since we were in such a hurry to go home for Christmas it seemed unlikely that we would take the time to cruise the minesite for three hours to use up half a tank of gas.
So what really happened to the gas? Who the fuck cares! Maybe KalTire guy took the opportunity to steal some gas and blame it on the guys whose hardhats he had suddenly come into possession of. Or maybe he just didn't realize how much gas he'd used already. Whatever, I don't care. But it wasn't us- throwing away three $70,000 jobs (not to mention my 36 years of service!) for twenty bucks worth of gas is like, is like, so ludicrous it's not even worth thinking of a good metaphor to show how dumb it is.
So anyways, next week on dayshift maybe I'll have to go to the bosses and explain why we had to toss our hardhats in the truck. I don't see anything serious happening, everyone with half a brain can see how baseless the accusation is. So I'm not worried.
I still never got my hardhat back.

Here's a bizarre and beautiful short film about an octopus with a tree growing out of his head: The Tale of How.

I've never seen The Thing, but a couple of weeks ago I read the original short story by sci-fi legend John W. Campbell, called "Who Goes There?". The lovely red-eyed blue critter you see to your left is the Thing. Great name, eh? I scanned the image from my copy of Barlowe's Guide to ExtraTerrestrials, which is an old artbook done up as a field guide to alien species. Pretty cool, though most of the species are from stories that are fairly obscure nearly thirty years later.
I'd love it if someone put out a similar guide- but of course, there are now thousands upon thousands of stories to glean aliens from.
What species would you have in there? I nominate (for starters, anyways) the qheuen, from David Brin's Uplift Storm trilogy. Qheuens are a crab-like, five-legged race who speak from leg-vents and see from a 360-degree vision strip on their heads. And hoons and g'keks from the same series would be very cool to see too.
And anything from Dan Simmons' Ilium/Olympos- Setebos, Caliban and voynix. Also the shrike from his other masterpiece, the Hyperion Cantos.

Take a look at the new Pirates posters! They're pretty cool. I really dig Keira- she's so kickass. Orlando looks . . . like he's trying very very hard to be angry and intense. That's the kindest way I can think of to phrase it. Poorlando.
"Set a course for Hidden Pirate Island. A.K.A. Hong Kong!"

Much less cool is that Karen Ellis of Planet Karen, who once drew me a Pirate Bear, received a really crappy Christmas present- diabetes.

Did you hear about the Rolling Stone writing contest? If you're a young urban hipster who goes to all the shows this would be right up your alley. I'm a not-so-young suburban unhipster who doesn't go to any shows so I'll give this one a pass. But Alyssa, I'm looking at you!
I read Bloodletting and Miraculous Cures, by Vincent Lam. He won a different sort of "writing contest" with that one- the Giller Prize. It's really good, as you'd expect. I gotta tip my toque to him- Lam is the same age as me, is a doctor, and now a prize-winning writer.
I can't really figure out a good way to segue to this next segment so I'll just totally change the subject abrubtly.
Yesterday at the G, Griffyn sat with Michelle and me, enjoying the jazzy Epiphany concert. 'Uncle' Crogdor was playing his big upright bass like he always does, but then switched to guitar later in the set. Griffyn, who is not quite four, but has always admired guitar players and emulated them to comic effect, was astonished. "I didn't know Craig could play the guitar!" he said.

Some Random Saturday Stuff

Michelle gave me a Roald Dahl boxset for Christmas. I loved him when I was a kid- The Enormous Crocodile was one of my favorite books, and my Grade 1 teacher read us James and the Giant Peach. I was almost trepidatious to reread him as an adult, lest the magic be lost, but I am happy to say they are just as great to read as an adult.

You know how George Lucas always said the Star Wars Trilogy was basically a silent movie with sound effects? Or something like that. Anyways on YouTube there is a fun little SW mashup done as a silent movie. And since you're there you might as well watch that great missed-empty-netter that allowed the Oilers to tie up the game against Dallas with two seconds left.

Yesterday coming home from work we almost hit the ditch. (We being me, Jason and Jamie who drive out together to save some time.) We didn't so no big deal, but it was funny to hear Jamie screaming like a little girl "We're gonna hit the ditch!!!!" He served in Afghanistan with the Light Infantry. OK, he wasn't actually screaming like a little girl but you can bet I'll say it that way every time I tell the story at work. Thanks to Jason for keeping his cool and keeping us on the road. I was then inspired to go buy Corb Lund's CD since we were rocking out to that all week. Or countrying out to it I guess. Michelle is shocked that I would buy country but this is more old-school. And he's from Alberta. Plus he was in the Smalls.

Did anyone watch Lady in the Water? Did you notice how M Night plays the writer whose work will someday save the world? And the only unlikeable human character is a film critic who says things like "There is no originality left in the world. I have resigned myself to that fact long ago." Later someone says of the critic (after he screws up without ever being told he was being asked something important) "What kind of person would be so arrogant as to presume the intention of another human being?"

Congratulations to my friends Trevor and Christina who recently welcomed twins into the world! This now gives them four kids under four years old! Holy smokes. They named the boy twin Nathan, which is almost as good as naming him Little Homie.

Last year I entered some writing contests- didn't win anything, but it's fun to try and provides motivation to write. In 2007 I'll keep at it. Here's a story I submitted, that almost doesn't qualify as a story since there's no conflict and nothing really happens in it. But it kind of encapsulates all the reasons I write- wonder, whimsy, innocence, curiousity and adventure.

I call this story "Thumb".

Billy was bored. He sat in the backseat of his parents’ car, watching the endless boreal forest zip by outside. The trees weren’t tall enough to be spooky, and the green wasn’t bright enough to be pretty. Just lots and lots of trees, all the same. They hadn’t seen any animals since yesterday. On the seat beside him was a discarded Game Boy with all the games he had beaten several times over. He sighed, but didn’t bother to ask if they were there yet. He knew they still had a long way to go.
“What the heck is that?” asked Mom in the front seat. Dad turned down the music, as he always did when Mom pointed out something to look at. Billy straightened out of his slouch to catch a look, too. “Whoa!” he said. Dad’s jaw just dropped a little. Mom said matter-of-factly, “It’s a giant! And he’s hitch-hiking!”
Up ahead there stood a very, very large man. A giant. He was wearing a jean jacket and had a leather backpack slung on one shoulder. Dark hair and a few days’ growth of whiskers on his face. With his right arm extended, thumb up, he looked just like a university student trying to hitch a ride, except that he was over 300 feet tall.
“Can we pick him up, Dad?” The question snapped Dad out of his shock.
“Of course not, Billy. There’s no room in the car for someone that big. And he might be dangerous.”
“Oh come on, dear. I’m sure he’s a very nice young fellow. If he was dangerous, I think he could just step on us and be done with it. I say we pull over and talk to him at least. Maybe he’s hungry.” Mom’s logic concerning the potential danger of the giant seemed irrefutable, and Dad also knew that it would be useless to point out that they had nothing that could possibly satisfy the hunger of a giant, so he decided to pull over.
“Yay!” Billy cheered.
The giant courteously knelt down to talk into Mom’s unrolled window. “Thanks for pulling over! Where you folks headed?”
Dad was about to say something evasive and non-committal, but Mom cut him off. “We’re heading home to Fernie- that’s where Grandma lives. School’s out for the summer and Jim and I are both teachers up in Yellowknife, so we have a couple of months of holiday. How about you?” Billy sat wide-eyed in the backseat, hardly listening to Mom’s rambling answer. He was studying the giant’s big blue eyes and scruffy hair. He couldn’t believe how cool this was.
“I’m going to Giants’ Stadium in New York to try out for the team. Nah, just kidding! I’m heading to the Rockies myself. Do some camping.” The giant was enthusiastic but polite, and he didn’t want to assume anything.
“Well,” Mom said, “we’d love to have you join us, but you’re, you know, a little big . . .”
The giant laughed. “Well, this is sort of reverse hitch-hiking- I’ll give you a lift in exchange for helping me get to where I’m going- maps and signs are a little small for my eyes to read without a microscope or magnifying glass or something.”
Dad made a choking noise, and Billy said his hundredth “Wow” and Mom giggled and said “Sure! Give us a lift!”
So the giant very gently picked up the car, being careful not to press too hard and dent the sheet metal. He placed it on his palm, holding it like a waiter holding a tray. Billy’s stomach did a little flip as they rose straight up nearly 300 feet. For the first time the potentially scary things about this situation were making themselves clear to him.
“Comfy?” asked the giant. Mom gave a little nod. “Alright then, let’s go!” And the giant started walking down the highway, strolling at nearly the same speed as the posted limit.
“Hi little fella,” said the Giant, talking to Billy. “My name’s Grant, but people just call me Thumb. What’s your name?”
Billy was determined not to be scared, but his stomach was still a little grumpy from the sudden disruptions, so he was inclined to be less charitable than a few minutes ago. “It’s not ‘little fella’, that’s for sure.”
“Billy!” said Mom, “Be polite to our guest.”
Billy’s initial sense of wonder was quickly turning into sullenness. But Thumb was amicable and good with kids. “I didn’t mean anything by it, Billy. Everyone is a ‘little fella’ to me, even your Dad!”
Billy inwardly thought this was very funny, but wasn’t ready to reconcile just yet. He looked at Thumb suspiciously, and asked “Aren’t you scared of bears?”
“Scared I’ll step on one and squish it.”
“Have you ever squished a bear?”
“No. Have you?”
Billy couldn’t stifle his giggle. “No, silly!” he said. Then, “You don’t eat bears do you?”
“Nah, I eat sandwiches that my mum made me before I left. Want one?”
The thought of Billy eating a giant sandwich was too much. He started laughing out loud, unable to help himself. Mom joined him, and Thumb smiled. Even Dad was coming around- a process aided by the fact that his fuel efficiency had just improved considerably.
Soon an easy and comfortable conversation kept the travelers occupied as Thumb’s giant strides ate up the miles. Dad helped Thumb stay on the right highway, reading the signs for him and telling him to take this or that exit. Once there was a bridge spanning a ravine, and Thumb let the car and its occupants down so they could drive across while Thumb went down into the valley, crossed the river, and climbed back up on the other side. Everyone stretched and then they were back on the road.
“Mr. Thumb?” said Billy. “Do you know any good stories? About giants?”
“Sure, I know tons of stories. You probably know lots of them, like about Paul Bunyan and Jack and the Beanstalk and all that. But did you ever hear of a giant named Pan Gu?”
“Pangoo? No, I never heard of him. Who’s he?”
“In the olden days, in China, before they built the Great Wall, they used to believe that the world was created by Pan Gu. At the beginning of time, they say that everything was nothing, or maybe, nothing was all there was. Anyways, the only thing that existed was a big egg. Inside this egg lived Pan Gu, and he lived there for, like, 18,000 years. And then one day he got annoyed with being inside that egg so he smashed it open with a huge axe he had.”
“Rarrghh!” said Billy, imagining he was Pan Gu.
“Yeah, exactly. So now Pan Gu was free of the egg, but there still wasn’t anything for him to do, except hold the sky up so it wouldn’t crash back on the ground. He did this for another18,000 years! Till one day he keeled over dead.”
“Blargh!” said Billy, and he pretended to be dead in the backseat of his parents’ car, eyes screwed shut and tongue lolling out of his mouth. Mom laughed.
“So what happened was, Pan Gu’s body became the world- all the mountains and rivers and lakes and stuff. That’s what the Chinese used to think, anyways.”
“Did you know Pan Gu? Was he your Dad?” Billy asked.
“Nah, that was a little before my time. It was even before your Dad’s time!”
“Hey!” said Dad, but he had enjoyed the story too, and was happy to be included. “Have you ever been to China, Mr. Thumb?”
“No, but I’ve always wanted to go. I’d love to hike the length of the Great Wall, you know? If I was allowed. They’d probably want to make sure I didn’t kick any of it over. But even more than that, I want to go Antarctica. I always thought it would be cool to go to the exact South Pole and do a handstand.”
“Like Atlas!” Dad thought this was very funny. But Billy didn’t get it, and asked, “Who’s Atlas?”
As Thumb told the story, Mom looked over at Dad and smiled. It had been a very pleasant drive so far. At one point Thumb saw a big bull moose that was wading in a lake, and they stopped to watch it for a while. “I love animals,” said Thumb. The moose wasn’t concerned about the giant’s presence, but eventually it wandered away and they continued on.
It was starting to get dark and soon they would need to stop at a restaurant for something to eat, and then think about finding a campground for the night.
During a lull, Billy said, “Mom, when I grow up can I go with Mr. Thumb to the Antartika?”
“Antarctica.” Mom corrected. “And if it was alright with Mr. Thumb I don’t see why not. But you better start saving up your allowance now! It’s pretty expensive to go there, and you can’t exactly hitch-hike.”
Billy yawned and said, “Okay.” Thumb winked at Mom.
Dad said, “Well, Mr. Thumb, we’re glad we picked you up, but you can drop us off at this little town here so we can go in and get some supper.”
“Awww Dad!” said Billy, but Thumb nodded and let them down, so delicately the shocks didn’t even bounce.
“It was nice meeting you all! Have fun visiting your Grandma.”
“Wait, Mr. Thumb!” said Billy. “I didn’t know there was any such thing as giants . . .”
Thumb looked at him, and grinned. “There are giants in the world, Billy," he said,"And other things too.” With a wave, Thumb turned and walked away. Billy waved back, watching until Thumb was out of sight.