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	28 May 2004 MOVIE: THE DAY AFTER TOMORROW (2004). Humanity's overconsumption catches up in the form of a sudden climate change marking a new Ice Age, plunging the entire northern hemisphere into a deep freeze; meanwhile, a top climatologist hikes through the newly-formed tundra from Washington D.C. to New York City in search of his son, who is trapped in the city's library. With all that schmaltz out of the way, let me just say that when this movie turns it on, it turns it on all the way, providing a frickin' awesome spectacle worth the $14 bucks we paid to see it at the Arclight. Tornadoes rip Los Angeles apart to the delight of the crowd, who quickly grew somber at the truly awesome sequence of New York being flooded by tidal waves -- it was all too eerily reminiscent of the clouds of debris chasing those fleeing in horror during the September 11th attack. The political allegory was more than intentional: I mean, the movie also featured a spineless, indecisive President flanked by a Dick Cheney lookalike as his Vice President, providing a delightfully melodramatic warning of the possible catastrophic consequences of our nation's oil-hogging ways. Other moments that made the hyper-savvy Arclight crowd roar with laughter were when the fleeing Americans are forced to cross the Rio Grande into Mexico (where it's warmer) after discovering the borders had been sealed by the government, or at the end, when the Vice President gives a post-disaster morality address in which he urges the need for greater environmental awareness, prompting nervous laughter from closet SUV drivers. That's neither here nor there, however. Hot damn, what a spectacle it was -- amazing special effects, and damn the rest. It all left me wishing that the filmmakers had done even more breathtaking scenes of destruction. For if there's one thing we Yanks are good at, it's making movies about the shit that done blowed up. Suggested, in part, by the book, "The Coming Global Superstorm." -- from the credits   Back to main 26 May 2004 PHOTO DIARY. Today we went to the magical, executives-only 7th floor of our building, where Diller keeps his office in LA. Vintage movie posters line the walls. We gathered for a video conference with the Detroit office. Among other things, we discussed "Penetration Opportunities." Oh dear. This is indeed a man's world.   Back to main PHOTO DIARY. Today's Newman's Own Alphabet Cookie word is: "EJCQD," or Eject.   Back to main 25 May 2004 GAME: HIDDEN INVASION (2003). Dude, where's my invasion? So, in our neverending quest to find a cooperative, non-deathmatch multiplayer, me & Nicki should've known we'd inevitably have to trip over some awful turds now and then. But not like this. A male-female supercop duo blasts, punches, and kicks their way through a futuristic city to defuse bombs or fetch keycards. I played the meathead; Nicki played the femme fatale. It all seemed like an okay idea at first, until we found ourselves bomb-defusing and keycard-fetching for the fifth time in a row. Combat was an auto-targeted, button-mashing affair, and a nauseating one, too, thanks to a constantly flailing camera: left would suddenly become right, up would become down, and sometimes it would stubbornly focus on the wall blocking the characters we were trying so desperately to control. The whole experience was neatly topped off with buggy collision detection that would "trap" us in futuristic potted plants, along with a storyline so moronic we hyperventilated with outrage. Each mission must, for no reason at all, be completed within a time limit in order to earn meaningless time bonuses. Also mysterious: the name and mugshot of each disposable baddie we fought (and there were dozens in each level) briefly appeared in the corner of the screen. We only noticed that strange detail just before we turned the game off. GAMEPLAY: Like painting a house. Drunk. REMINISCENT OF: Oni, maybe, but bad-bad-bad. LIBRARY WORTHY? No. Not even worth hanging on your car rear-view mirror.   Back to main 23 May 2004 PHOTO DIARY. Today fellow ex-Ditherdog Tomur and I went out for a ride along the beach. We biked first through Venice. Then we wound up in Playa del Mar to watch the planes taking off directly overhead from nearby LAX. Tomur leaves for Kyoto tomorrow.   Back to main PHOTO DIARY. Last night, me, Nicki, big bro, Jung, and her friend Matt went out to Minibar at the edge of the valley for some fancy-pants tapas backed by soothing drum-n-bass beats. We drove up Mulholland to catch a remarkably smog-free view of downtown. Then we grabbed some cakes from Sweet Mary Jane's on Melrose. They have tubs and tubs of brightly colored frosting. Then, wouldn't you know it, we wound up in K-town at a place called Orchid, which has got to be the nicest karaoke place I've ever been in. Matt warmed us up with some Elvis-inspired showtunes. Big bro spent most of the night serenading Jung with his Backstreet Boy moves. We lost Nicki momentarily to a chorus of It's Raining Men. Me and Big bro teamed up for a duet. And did you know? He can do a pitch-perfect Billy Corrigan rendition.   Back to main Archives. 17 August 2003 — 24 August 2003 — 31 August 2003 — 07 September 2003 — 14 September 2003 — 02 November 2003 — 09 November 2003 — 16 November 2003 — 23 November 2003 — 30 November 2003 — 07 December 2003 — 01 February 2004 — 08 February 2004 — 15 February 2004 — 22 February 2004 — 29 February 2004 — 07 March 2004 — 14 March 2004 — 21 March 2004 — 28 March 2004 — 04 April 2004 — 11 April 2004 — 18 April 2004 — 25 April 2004 — 02 May 2004 — 09 May 2004 — 16 May 2004 — 23 May 2004 — 30 May 2004 — 06 June 2004 — 13 June 2004 — 20 June 2004 — 27 June 2004 — 04 July 2004 — 11 July 2004 — 18 July 2004 — 25 July 2004 — 01 August 2004 — 08 August 2004 — 15 August 2004 — 22 August 2004 — 29 August 2004 — 05 September 2004 — 12 September 2004 — 19 September 2004 — 26 September 2004 — 03 October 2004 — 10 October 2004 — 17 October 2004 — 24 October 2004 — 31 October 2004 — 07 November 2004 — 14 November 2004 — 21 November 2004 — 28 November 2004 — 05 December 2004 — 12 December 2004 — 19 December 2004 — 26 December 2004 — 02 January 2005 — 09 January 2005 — 23 January 2005 — 30 January 2005 — 06 February 2005 — 13 February 2005 — 20 February 2005 — 27 February 2005 — 13 March 2005 — 20 March 2005 — 27 March 2005 — 03 April 2005 — 10 April 2005 — 17 April 2005 — 24 April 2005 — 01 May 2005 — 08 May 2005 — 22 May 2005 — 29 May 2005 — 05 June 2005 — 12 June 2005 — 19 June 2005 — 26 June 2005 — 03 July 2005 — 10 July 2005 — 17 July 2005 — 24 July 2005 — 31 July 2005 — 07 August 2005 — 14 August 2005 — 28 August 2005 — 04 September 2005 — 25 September 2005 — 02 October 2005 — 09 October 2005 — 30 October 2005 — 06 November 2005 — 13 November 2005 — 20 November 2005 — 27 November 2005 — 04 December 2005 — 18 December 2005 — 01 January 2006 — 08 January 2006 — 15 January 2006 — 22 January 2006 — 05 February 2006 — 26 February 2006 — 12 March 2006 — 19 March 2006 — 26 March 2006 — 02 April 2006 — 16 April 2006 — 23 April 2006 — 30 April 2006 — 07 May 2006 — 14 May 2006 — 21 May 2006 — 04 June 2006 — 18 June 2006 — 25 June 2006 — 16 July 2006 — 23 July 2006 — 06 August 2006 — 13 August 2006 — 03 September 2006 — 17 September 2006 — 01 October 2006 —