kpduty

THEY STOLE MY IDEA

Wed, 09 Apr 2008 14:58:00 -0500

Many moons ago, I told you about the movie I was going to make, an epic on the scale of Independence Day or anything else with Will Smith in it. You may have thought I was a one-trick pony when it comes to film making, but I have other ideas up my sleeve. Once upon a time, I lived with a Good Friend who had a crush on Jeff Goldblum. Not having any skills relating to successfully stalking people, we decided that the best way to meet Jeff Goldblum and showcase Good Friend's wonderful personality, startling intellect and charismatic street-smarts would be to write, produce, direct and star in our own movie, which would also somehow involve Jeff Goldblum. So that the meeting and the stupefying could commence unimpeded. What movie did we come up with? We didn't really have a name for it, but it was a bit of a political thriller/tearful coming-of-age story/breezy romantic comedy/feel-good event of the summer kind of movie. The plot was such: Good Friend and I star as friends (such a stretch) who, concerned by the thousands of deaths/thousands of debilitating head injuries each year, decide that what needs to happen in the US is for a law to be passed mandating that everyone, from infancy to death, be required by law to wear a helmet. Seat belts alone are not the answer! Helmets while bike riding don't go far enough! What if you slip in the shower? Fall on ice? Tumble down stairs? Get pushed over at an Aerosmith concert? No, the only way to keep Americans safe is mandatory helmets. Now, the big point I've left out is an important one: these helmets are not just any helmet. See, the helmets Good Friend and I designed have a bump on the front. So the helmet sort of looks like it has a big, bulbous bill on the front. This is so that should you fall forward while wearing your helmet and you land face down in some body of water like a puddle or a small pond or whatnot you will be protected from drowning by the bubble on the front of the helmet. It keeps your face out of the water, you see. This is especially important for babies, because statistics show they apparently are susceptible to drowning. Or so I've heard. So Good Friend and I start a grassroots campaign that takes us all the way to the hallowed halls of Congress, where we meet with our State Representative Jeff Goldblum, and his intrepid personal assistant Whichever Celebrity I'm Currently In Love With. Lots of comedic hijinks ensue. Everyone falls in love, and everyone else avoids irreversible brain damage. THE END. So today while surfing the Internet, I discovered that a company has created helmets for babies. And while there isn't a bump on the front to prevent drowning, I'm sure it's on someone's drawing board somewhere. So I'm putting it here, on the Internet, so that should you see a baby wearing a helmet with a bump on the front to prevent drowning, you'll know where it came from and where to send the royalty check. And also where to let Jeff Goldblum know who he needs to get in touch with if he ever wants free sex. I have Good Friend's number, if he wants it.

BOOYAH

Fri, 28 Mar 2008 08:37:42 -0500

YOU'VE GOT TO FOLLOW YOUR BALLOON

Thu, 27 Mar 2008 18:04:44 -0500

Okay, this is some truly scary, fucked up shit right here. At first, I thought this was an April Fools joke because it was in this month's WIRED next to some famous April Fools jokes. But apparently it's totally true, and no one is reporting it. HELIUM, IF CONSUMED AT IT'S CURRENT RATE, IS PROJECTED TO RUN OUT IN NINE YEARS. Can you fucking believe that? NO MORE HELIUM. And apparently you can't just make more of it if you run out, because it's produced over millions of years of radioactive decay. We're going to RUN OUT of an ELEMENT in NINE YEARS. What the FUCK?!?!?! Okay, maybe the article says it'll run out in Texas where they make it in the US, but still.

AAAAWWWWWW

Thu, 27 Mar 2008 10:15:02 -0500

So, that job? I took it. It's good money. One of my bosses said they personally knew three people other than me who interviewed; they didn't know I'd even applied (I'm stealthy like Snake Eyes). One of my other bosses said the new bosses sounded like they wanted to suck my non-existent dick when they called for a reference, that's how much they loved me. Although they didn't actually put it like that. That's my interpretation. So I took the job, and bought fifty brazillion pairs of new shoes to celebrate, and I can barely walk in any of them because I'm only used to wearing sneakers, but this is my opportunity for the New Me. I swear, I'm gonna be stylin' and profilin'. It'll be awesome, I promise. As for law school? I'm taking Intro to Logic right now...I'd signed up in anticipation for preparing to take the LSAT. It's seriously hard. I'm already behind in the reading, and it's the first week of classes. I was right all along: I'm too lazy for law school. But that's not why I'm here. I'm here to post this And yes, it made me cry. JULY 25TH BAY BEE!!!

IS THAT MINE?

Mon, 17 Mar 2008 13:46:38 -0500

There's nothing like working your way through yummy Bob Evans turkey dinner leftovers, only to find a gigantically long hair in the mashed potatoes. It's probably mine, but still...yuck. At least the dinner roll wasn't touching it. Mmmm, fluffy dinner roll.

WHAT TO DO?

Fri, 14 Mar 2008 13:55:13 -0500

So you know that job I mentioned in the last post? I got it. I've never felt so disappointed in my whole life.

"A HOPE IN HELL"--Neil Gaiman, Sandman

Mon, 03 Mar 2008 16:50:53 -0500

I'M A BIG PUSSY, WHICH IS WHY I WORK AT INITECH TO BEGIN WITH

Thu, 28 Feb 2008 15:11:25 -0500

I don't normally talk about my job. I'm just enough of a paranoid delusional that I figure even if I never mention where I work specifically, eventually someone would figure out and I'd get fired or shipped to Gitmo or something. So I just don't talk about it. Now I need to talk about it. I hate my job. Okay, actually I don't really HATE it, but it's just extremely frustrating. We're in a very money-needy industry, my employers and I, and unfortunately we aren't getting as much money as we need. Because of this, cuts need to be made. And it's having a negative impact on my position. Many years ago, I was hired here to be a glorified mail person. I showed up my first day and was promoted on the spot; one of the employees had quit over the weekend, no notice, and so I took her job. I called people about things, and mailed things off to people, but these tasks were far more involved than just dealing with the mail. I was pretty busy, but every once in a while I would take a minute or two beyond lunch to write X-Files fan fiction. Things were pretty good: I was on my own with not a care in the world, and I had few bills, a cheap apartment, and I was making enough money to buy myself crap and drink occasionally. Then six months later, I was promoted again. A guy left for greener pastures and I took over. Now I was ordering stuff, and fucking around with computer databases. I was drunk with power. Okay, not really. But I really enjoyed what I was doing: it required a lot of attention to detail, and there were precise rules that needed followed, and it was a whole different experience than the retail I'd been working. I loved it so much that I started going to school to learn more about it. I paid for the whole thing myself, with no loans; the upside was that once I had a degree in hand, the big money and bigger opportunities would start rolling in. After a while, the person who'd taken my old job left. Rather than fill the position, the duties were split equally: one guy got to call people, and I got to mail things off to people. I was still doing my job, but half of the other person's job got tacked on. Okay, no sweat. But then something insidious happened: the money really started to dry up. The money that should have refilled the position became the money that should have paid for things I could order. So now I wasn't really ordering much anymore. And then stuff started showing up online, so there was no need for me to order any of those things anymore, either. And because I wasn't ordering much, the person who paid for my orders didn't have orders to pay for. So she began grabbing some of my work for herself, because what else did she have to do? And so now it's gotten to the point that there are some days I come in, and I literally do nothing. I would be better off taking the day off than sit here perusing the internet all day. So I applied for another job. I had an interview yesterday for a position which would be a little more involved than what I do now. I was a total spaz and shared way too much information about a great many things. I think I may be missing an internal censor when it comes to situations such as that. At least I didn't say fuck. I've been known to bust that out at inappropriate times. The Husband seems to think I've got it sewn up, but they seemed to be concerned that I lack certain experience dealing with the public that would be an important component of the job. They would train me for everything else. But unfortunately, yesterday showed me that I've sort of stuck myself in a corner with the job I'm presently in. I have my degree, but it's led to nothing here: I didn't get a pay raise, I didn't get any new duties. In fact, I've had duties taken away from me. So after ten years in my job--five of those years in school--I'm basically back to doing the job I was originally hired in to do. One of the listservs I belong to had a post explaining what a person in my career needs to succeed. One of the things mentioned was a Masters in any subject other than the degree I just got. It improves your knowledge base and your marketability. Crazily, I am currently working in a place were I could, through finagling, get such a degree FOR FREE (contingent on getting into the program, of course). So why haven't I done that? Because I'm a lazy fucktard, that's why. TOO MUCH WORK. And the admittance test is really hard and I test poorly. And I might not actually like the subject. And it'd be a lot of work and I'm allergic to work. Of course, I'd have shit loads of time here at my job to do my homework, har har! One of the interviewers asked me if getting the degree would improve my situation here at my current job, but it wouldn't: we have all the employees we need and can afford. So I'd get my second degree, and I'd STILL be doing this same shitty waste of a day job. Unless I found something else which I would probably now, by virtue of that second degree, be qualified to do. I need someone to tell me what I should do. Part of the problem is I feel like I’m starting to fall into a funk, a true depressive episode. The Husband had to pretty much force me to write a thank you note for my interview this morning. I just don't care. But I care enough that I've had a rash all over my body for the last two days from worrying about this. And I sort of got the impression that a lot of what the job would entail would be the sort of crap I do right now: just busy work. But then again there might be some cool research projects, and it would be more money, but probably not much more. And then one of the interviewers said I sounded well suited for civic work, that he was surprised I hadn't considered it before now. And they were all very shocked that I had the opportunity to go to school here, for free, and that I hadn't taken it. But I think about how much work would be involved with that, and there's so much TV I need to watch... I've reached an impasse, I think. What do I want for the long term? Do I sacrifice a degree for more money, although it probably wouldn't really be sacrificing? Do I stay here and sacrifice and try to get into school, although that probably can't be considered sacrificing, either? I told The Husband I need to find someone with a time machine, who can go into the future and come back and tell me which decision I made and let me know how it appears to have worked out. I don't know what will make me happy. Part of me says LEAVE and part of me says LOOK AT WHAT YOU'D BE LEAVING. I'll tell you a funny story, that will put my indecisiveness in perspective: Once upon a time in high school, I had to take a test that would tell me what I was supposed to do for the rest of my life. At the time, I really wanted to be a lawyer; all those late nights of LAW & ORDER made me want to be Jack McCoy SO BAD. I finished the test early, so I figured up the scores for myself, and I discovered to my horror that I was in absolutely no shape or way suited to be a lawyer. I went back and changed all my answers so the test would come out for "lawyer." I think I need to take the test again.

JUMP UP AND DOWN AND CLAP A LOT

Mon, 25 Feb 2008 09:18:47 -0500

I don't know how long this will be online, and I can't figure out how to host it... Saturday at Comic-con, the entire cast and crew of X-Files made their first ever convention appearance together. I'd joked to The Husband that I was totally going to go, because this was a once-in-a-lifetime event. Seriously, David Duchovny AND Gillian Anderson, on stage, together? But unfortunately I forgot all about it and didn't go, hahaha. But someone was nice enough to record the teaser trailer for the new X-Files movie that they apparently showed, and they stuck it on YouTube. By the way, I totally got chills when Mulder and Scully appeared on screen and everybody started cheering. Oh, and YAY BILLY CONNOLLY. ETA: TOO CUTE.

SHE GOT BETTE DAVIS EYES

Thu, 07 Feb 2008 12:18:09 -0500

I'm listening to random stuff while I work on the bindery shipment. Kim Carnes's "Bette Davis Eyes" just came on. For some reason, I always thought the line was, "She's precocious, and she knows just what it takes to make a crow blush." The hell? How did I ever convince myself that that made any kind of sense?

IT'S DONE, I'M FREE

Fri, 25 Jan 2008 09:13:30 -0500

This one's going to be long (bear with me), and most of it will be cut-and-paste from an email to The Best Friend From College, because I just don't feel like going over it again. So I'd signed up for this class. It was with a woman I'd studied in Library School. Seriously, she's a big name in information science, so I thought it'd be really awesome if I had a class with her. Big Mistake. I just dropped the class. I hate doing it, because a) I've wasted a shitload of money that could have gone to the ARCHOS 605 w/WIFI (hint hint) and b) I hate feeling like I'm a quitter. But seriously, every day before class, I'd go to work...I'd be fine, and then a few hours before I had to leave to go to class...explosive diarrhea. I'm not joking. EVERY WEEK. It was like my body was begging me not to go. But I'd go, and I'd end up getting REALLY ANGRY about everything, and then I'd come home and not do any of the reading, and not write any of the papers because FUCK IT, FUCKER and then I'd rush to catch up which pissed me off even more so I'd just throw my hands up and say FUCK IT, FUCKER until the day of class, when the whole cycle would begin anew. I thought it would get better, I honestly did. I WANTED to get it, I WANTED to really understand what was going on. But the thing is, I DID get it, I DID understand. ARGH!! So here's where the cutting and pasting starts. Let me explain the class as I explained it to the Best Friend... ********************* I'm taking a class with this woman whose theories I studied in library school. She's a big name in learning theory and whatnot. She's a big ol' feminazi. We're not being graded on anything from class, but on how we think. Seriously, you have to show an evolution in your way of thinking for you to get a good grade. It's not enough, learning things and being able to regurgitate them on paper. You have to learn a new way of seeing things. Which means seeing them like she does. The first class, we watched Song of the South. I don't think I need to tell you that I cried like a baby through the whole thing. At the end, the professor tells us this story about how she was adopted, and Song of the South was the first movie her new parents took her to, and it was her all-time favorite movie, until she watched it again a few weeks before class, and now she hates Disney for ruining her childhood since all her good memories are associated with a sexist, racist, classist film of pure unbridled evil. So I said (during my allotted one-minute speaking time--seriously, we're there to LISTEN, not question other's ideas: take that shit outside class, if you want to know why someone feels the way they do) that while I get the whole "magical Negro" thing and whatnot, why we can't just enjoy the movie for what it is, which is a silly little movie about an elderly man imparting wisdom to a child through the anthropomorphic stories of his people's culture? And thus, in one fell swoop of a minute, I became the class racist. It's awesome. I was telling my boss, you read these stories about David Horowitz and his fight against campus liberals and you're all like, that's man's a total nutcase asshole. But then, I don't think I've ever met anyone so far left that they fall out of their chair. We're talking about body horror: Cronenberg, Barker, Matthew Barney's Cremaster Cycle, stuff I like to think I know a little something about. I have a feeling it's going to devolve into a tirade about degradation of women and Nazis. She is somehow brilliantly able to connect everything to Nazis in some way, I will give her that. Here's the two things that got me: 1) A black girl in my class raised her hand the week after we saw the movie and said, "You know, I see how you think Song of the South is racist, but seriously, compared to some of the stuff out today, I think it's pretty silly to get so riled up about this sixty year old cartoon." And the WHITE professor tells her that of course she thinks that, because she (the student) was brought up wrong, and has been conditioned to ignore racism, and it's her job as teacher to correct her way of thinking. 2) In one moment, with one word (RACIST), all discussion of the movie stopped. Instead, the class (which is supposedly taking this class to learn to "think for themselves") began parroting "IT'S RACIST IT'S RACIST" and that was the end of it. Nothing about how the Brer Rabbit stories came into being, about the connection to African trickster tales and Anansi spider or anything like that. There's no discussion of the briefly glimpsed layered relationship between the plantation owner and Uncle Remus (who hint that they grew up together), the obviously loving relationship between Remus and slave Aunt Tempy (Hattie McDaniel), nothing. And yes, it paints an unrealistic portrait of slavery, but it's a goddamned children's movie, for chrissakes, not fucking ROOTS. To me, and I could be wrong about this because this whole thing still pisses me off and it's been almost a month so I may not be thinking straight, it's far more racist to just label this movie and that's the end of it, wipe my hands of it there you go. ARGH!!! So, I don't know if you're familiar with Henry Jenkins. He's at MIT. He's the first to sort of coin the idea of a "fan scholar" of popular culture. He put out this collection of essays we're using as a text, The Wow Climax, and the essay we had to read is about Matthew Barney, and how art criticism has done a disservice by ignoring his obvious homages to horror movies and splatterpunk and whatnot, but it's part and parcel of the general ignorance of criticism toward "low art" in general. And he's got these interesting theories about body mutilation and the current fascination with visceral horror and torture and stuff, Cronenberg and Barker's Cenobites and all that. And I just KNOW the whole class is basically going to be "horror bad, girls die, grrrr." Did you ever see Tough Guise? It's this documentary that's basically this talking head blaming pop culture for male violence, and masculinity is an act and whatnot. AGAIN, I outted myself as the closeted woman-hater that I am. NONE of his statistics had ANY attribution AT ALL. It was just one bar graph after another. And since the documentary was from 1997, I'd be interested in seeing related statistics on crime perpetrated by young women (what with all the YouTube videos and stuff). And during my "minute" I pointed out that I had a real problem with this lack of attribution, to which the professor replied, "Oh, those statistics are all correct, I just know it." SERIOUSLY!!! Well, then, okay. That's settled. WTF?!?!?! The best, that I haven't even told you, is that this class is an exercise in the fine art of busy-work. Seriously, elementary school teachers could learn from this woman. See, you READ the assigned chapters. Then you go to class, and everyone breaks off into GROUPS, in which you're supposed to talk about the reading, but everyone just talks sports and how much they drank last night. Then you FILL OUT A PIECE OF PAPER, noting what you personally shared with the group. Then everyone in the group signs it. This is your TICKET, which means you can now write a three page paper going into the reading in more depth. Without your TICKET you can turn in a paper, but the professor won't grade it. Then we have DISCUSSION TIME, which is basically 30 minutes of the professor explaining AGAIN how the syllabus works what with all these forms to fill out, and fifteen minutes of her talking about Nazis. Then we watch a movie, usually something about how media is evil and we're all ignorant for falling for their evil corporate crap and we're all going to turn into wife beaters and Nazis. As we watch, we FILL OUT A BLUE SHEET OF PAPER, noting our thoughts and feelings while watching the movie. Then we have DISCUSSION, which in actuality is everyone in the class getting one minute to speak into a digital recorder about what we thought the most challenging issue of the movie was for us. As other students speak, we are to record our reactions to their comments on our blue sheet of paper. Then we turn those in for a grade. The grade is based on spelling, and whether we're "getting it," by which she means, and I'm quoting/paraphrasing: if you don't really understand Habermas, I mean, you've completely misunderstood his theory, if you can at least though your writing show me that you're trying to understand it and incorporate it into your thinking, you'll get a good grade. And then we have a presentation we're supposed to give on "something you love that you want other people in the class to love, too" (I'm doing my new obsession, Bollywood movies) and there's a 15-page paper to go with that. Busy work. The only reason why I'm still attending is that my boss said, if you end up going to grad school and she's in your field, you're going to run into her sooner or later so you might as well get it out of the way now. But so far all I've managed to do is expose myself as the racist, sexist, homophobic baby-eater I've so cleverly concealed up until now. It's just insane. I mean, she's all about not regurgitating, but I know what her line is. I get it, Nazis and wife-beaters and violence and rape, oh my. And what do I do? I REGURGITATE that crap back to her because that's what she wants to hear. And there's no discussion, no questioning, nothing that'd inspire anyone to think "outside the box," as she so cliché-ingly puts it. I GET IT. Now try looking at it from my point of view, you old bag of gas. ********************* The thing that's really funny about this, reading it back now, is how the line jumps out at me: "we are to record our reactions to their comments on our blue sheet of paper." So I write this to The Best Friend, and wouldn't you know it, I go into class and one of the first comments the professor makes is, I'm actually not at all interested in your thoughts and reactions to other people's comments, what I want is the connections you're making between ideas. Connections you're making between ideas that could possibly be completely wrong (according to her), but at least you're "making connections?" Every week, it's like this. Every week, she changes her mind about exactly what it is she wants. And there's no room for questioning, no time given for discussion. And everybody seems completely fine with that. The final straw was when we watched this film called "Dreamworlds," about the images of women in music videos. It was pretty much all stuff from the eighties: big hair bands and the scantily clad women throwing themselves at the band. There were some clips from "no-talent Luther Campbell" (of 2 Live Crew, as the narrator called him) and "King of Sleaze, Prince" (again, quoting the narrator). It was basically an indictment of music videos as setting up this fantasy where all the women are sluts who fight over men who objectify them and discard them after sex like so much wadded up tissue, and the message this sends to kids who watch the videos: that women deserve to be raped, because secretly they like it and are asking for it. And then there's this awesome scene near the end where the film splices clips from Billy Idol and Kiss videos with Jodie Foster getting raped in The Accused. Because they're exactly the same, get it? (And if we needed to cry because that was so powerful, that's okay, the professor said to the class before the movie). At the end of the film, the narrator explains that these scenes are not indicative of all videos. Nor is censorship the answer. We just need to become more aware that these scenes are there, and they're desensitizing us to rape and violence against women. Music videos are made by men, for men, at the expense of women. And here are some statistics about how much men want to rape women and how much women want to be raped, because media brainwashes them into thinking it's acceptable. THE END. So, by the end I'm seething. My blue sheet of paper has hash marks all over it: BIAS!!! So, naturally like the ignorant fool I am, I open my mouth. Correlation does not imply causation and all of that. Can't you SEE, the girl in front of me implored, some people aren't as SMART as YOU. They think these videos are REALITY! And in the back of my mind, I finished her thought for her: what the hell is WRONG with you that you don't GET IT? Maybe I'm too paranoid. Maybe it wasn't as bad as I thought it was. I mean, she's been teaching this class for twenty-odd years, right? Every class, I walked in immediately placing myself in a defensive position. Maybe I went looking for a fight. I feel like I've been broken by this class. Why can't I look at things with a critical eye, and still enjoy them? Why is it that so far in this class, EVERYTHING that I love--rap, horror movies, genial elderly black men, pro wrestling--is bad? And that I am, by extension, ignorant and bad? Every time I go to class, I feel like everything I like, everything I enjoy, is wrong. And when I try in my sad little minute to say, hey, wait a minute, good can come of this, too, the air seems to change, like everyone is clicking their tongues and shaking their heads at how sad and stupid I am. I don't feel like I can adequately articulate it. I'm just totally worn out from the whole experience. My soul is tired. I need a vacation.

THIS IS A TEST

Sat, 19 Jan 2008 16:44:33 -0500

Today, I've run headlong into the hell that is piracy and Hollywood's life in the dark ages. (This is going to involve me admitting something I'm incredibly ashamed of, but please don't mock me. Or at least, don't mock me a lot.) For some bizarre reason, I've been particularly determined to watch EMPLOYEE OF THE MONTH. I've seen it before, it's a silly movie. But for some reason I've REALLY wanted to watch it. I've been to two Targets trying to find a copy. And wouldn't you know, they had it on sale, but only in full screen. So I go on the internets and try to find it streaming somewhere. I'm in the Hulu beta, but there aren't any movies there. It's on iTunes, but I need the newest version. There's an entry on Amazon's download service, but I need their player. Same for CinemaNow. I'm like, ALL I WANT TO DO IS WATCH THE FUCKING MOVIE HOW MANY THINGS DO I HAVE TO DOWNLOAD AND HOW MANY HOOPS MUST I JUMP THROUGH!?!?! Like seriously, I'm willing to pay and everything. Just put it on my computer already. Argh. I was seriously like, fuck it, I'll go on Pirate Bay and get the fucking thing on Divx. But then I was like, fuck it, I'm not going to prison just cuz I'm desperate for some hot Dane Cook action. So I'm sitting here waiting for some stuff to finish installing. CinemaNow allows you to burn the movie to DVD and it includes all the same extras that are on the store-bought movie. Plus it has a menu and box art if you want to dress up your disc. I will let you know how it goes. If I spend an extra couple of bucks, Dane Cook's ass is in GOOD LUCK CHUCK. But I probably shouldn't press my luck right out of the gate like this.

I'M LAME.

Thu, 17 Jan 2008 09:03:32 -0500

How sad am I that I got REALLY excited when I saw this? Ahhh, boxes of X-Files magazines...how I wish I had you back. Okay, not really. Please, New X-Files Movie, I beg of you...please don't suck.

YOU'RE NOT REALLY THAT SPECIAL

Thu, 13 Dec 2007 16:01:44 -0500

Truer words were never spoken. I could have written this. I wish I had written this. Heh, Duran Duran novels. Fan Fiction of the 80s. I'll admit to having written more than a couple. See, fan fiction's always been around. And back then, we didn't even bother Mary Sue-ing ourselves. We were the story, BAY-BEE!

IT'S SUCH A SHAME

Mon, 19 Nov 2007 17:03:43 -0500

So here's my final verdict: Red Carpet Massacre is two totally different albums smashed together into a pile of fail. The Timbaland stuff should have been an EP, and everything else is old skool Duran and should have been another EP. Plus, I have Timabland's Shock Value...some of the songs on RCM have harmonies and beats that sound like they were lifted whole cloth from Shock Value. If I had any true intratubes skillz, I would post some examples for you. Timbaland needs to put a sock in it and disappear for a while. It's disappointing because every single song on Astronaut was great. I get what they were trying to do, but it's the musical equivalent of Batman Returns: there are hints of the amazing album that could have been, but there are way too many characters screwing everything up.