Journalist. Editor. Your Next Favorite Sci-Fi Writer.
April Fools Day is, without question, one of the most-annoying days of the year. An entire 24-hour period based on lies—or more lies than usual—doesn’t make for a particularly good time unless the pranks are skillfully executed (Note: The majority are not). That said, this April Fools Day was a completely different experience for me, because I avoided the shenanigans altogether by sitting in on a David Letterman taping.
Letterman was never my go-to late night host—at least not initially. As an adolescent, I stayed up past my bedtime to watch Johnny. As a teen and 20-something, I was into Arsenio. I didn’t appreciate Dave’s wit until a handful of years later, and by that time, I often crashed before his show aired due to being burnt out by a string of highly stressful jobs. I caught clips on YouTube and Entertainment Tonight whenever a celebrity did or said something stupid on the show. Letterman was always an entertaining gent who cracked wise in the peripheral.
That’s why sitting in the historic Ed Sullivan Theater was such a rewarding experience. I watched an entire episode of The Late Show for the first time in my life. Dave owned the show with a laid back sarcasm and witty banter with the audience, Senator Al Franken, and the incredibly annoying host of Billy on the Street. It was glorious.
I had one regret after the show wrapped: I had zero photos to preserve the experience, as photography was understandably not allowed in the theater. Then it hit me—the camera ban was the best thing that happened that afternoon. I didn’t fiddle in my seat adjusting flash and correcting zoom. Letterman, and his incredible house band fronted by Paul Shaffer and featuring jazz great David Sanborn, had my undivided attention for the first time in my life. It was an evening of great punchlines and dazzling musical segments.
There was a two-hour wait period in the time between picking up my tickets and being seated for the show. The impatient New Yorker in me began to bubble up, and I even questioned if the wait would be worth it. It was. Watching the television legend in his final days on the job—Dave exits late night on May 20—was magic. There were a couple of flat jokes, but the set was humorous, topical, and thoroughly enjoyable.
I wish I had done it sooner.
I’m kind of glad that I didn’t.
Image courtesy of CBS.
When the word “expert” hits your ears, what images come to mind? A wizened man with salt-and-pepper hair in a tweed jacket? A scholarly woman sporting a bun and librarian glasses? How about a guy in a cheap sweater, Lucky jeans, and low-top suede Wallabees? If you didn’t imagine the last person, I don’t blame; I wouldn’t have envisioned him either—and that guy is me.
Recently, I decided to do my yearly LinkedIn profile update. It’s an annual task that I adopted after reading Jill Duffy’s “Get Organized: 5 Tips for Getting the Most from LinkedIn.” The helpful suggestions helped me tighten and strengthen my LinkedIn page, but there was one tip that I didn’t use until very recently that proved very valuable: think in keywords. Long story short, I tweaked my professional title into one that’s more SEO-friendly, so that it would catch the eye of people searching LinkedIn for, say, “tech editor.” And it’s worked!
High-profile news publications, freelance writers, college kids writing theses, and podcast hosts have asked me to drop knowledge in the last few weeks. It’s been an empowering experience. Although I’ve written about technology for a decade, I saw myself as an editor with valuable thoughts and analysis, but not necessarily an “expert.” That is until someone on the other end of the phone actually referred to me as such.
It legitimately surprised me. No false humbleness, here. It later dawned on me that by having so many friends and acquaintances working in the technology and/or video game fields, I’ve lost touch with the fact that not everyone knows—or cares to know—the PlayStation’s role in elevating video games a mainstream, billion dollar industry. Or the best Web hosting services for companies on a budget. That realization played an important role in how I view myself in terms of career goals. That realization also helped me identify the required steps that are needed to walk toward expertise.
And that’s about it. I think. There’s a very good chance that I may have overlooked an essential tip, but I never claimed to be an expert about experts.
Image courtesy of ReliableSoft.
It’s not very often that a mainstream animated film features a biracial, female lead, but DreamWorks Animation’s Home does just that.
The move is a first for the studio, and one that I truly hope proves successful at the box office, because society needs this type of representation. As an ’80s kid, I didn’t see many brown faces in sci-fi and fantasy movies besides those belonging to warmongering Klingons. But that’s a conversation for another day.
Home centers on the relationship between Tip, a curly-topped bi-racial teenager, and Oh, a friendly alien invader. Let me reiterate: One of Home’s leads is a biracial female. I emphasize the racial aspect not just because its rare to see. There’s another angle to this, one that kills the importance of having such a character appear on the silver screen.
Occasional television spots are the only reason I know that Home has a biracial lead character. Every bus ad, taxi ad, and billboard that I’ve spotted while walking New York City’s streets have either highlighted Oh, or Oh paired with…Tip’s pet cat. I’ve yet to see a brown face and curls on any non-television marketing materials.
This saddens and infuriates me.
I recognize that these types of movies often push the manic alien/robot/magical/cutesy creature for merchandising purposes, but giving Tip less banner and billboard love than her cat screams “we have no faith that this will fly in certain markets.” I have no hard evidence to support this; it’s speculation based on what I know about business and a portion of the American populace. The recent Annie remake apparently suffered similar marketing ills.
If DreamWorks Animation is tossing Tip into the background to court people who may be uncomfortable with the very idea of the character’s existence, it’s making a huge mistake. A company shouldn’t spend millions to bring a character to life only to partially bury it, especially when the character has the potential to touch millions of people of all shades.
DreamWorks Animation knows Tip’s importance. Play to the right audience.
Image courtesy of Dreamworks Animation
Wu-Tang Clan dropped the seminal Enter the Wu-Tang 36 Chambers in 1993, fusing the New York City-style underground sound with intelligent lyrics, street knowledge, Five Percent Nation teachings, and philosophies ripped straight from old school Asian martial arts flicks.
Shortly after the classic album transformed the hip hop landscape, the crew—nearly a dozen deep—announced that each member would drop a solo album. The best solo effort was Raekwon the Chef’s Only Built 4 Cuban Linx, which quickly became a hip hop classic much like Enter the Wu-Tang 36 Chambers. The mob-strong album saw Rae and faithful right-hand man Ghostface Killah chronicle cinematic street tales over what was then RZA’s most varied and experimental production.
But what does Wu-Tang Clan have to do with Castlevania, Konami’s monster-slaying action video game? A lot, actually. Or, maybe, nothing at all.
Only Built 4 Cuban Linx‘s lead single was “Glaciers of Ice,” a track featuring Rae, Ghost, and Masta Killa flowing over only what can be described as aural insanity. Listen.
The idea wasn’t too bizarre. RZA had a reputation for digging through the crates, grabbing obscure samples, chopping them up, and sometimes distorting them. This is a man who sampled an obscure cartoon, Underdog, to create “Wu-Tang Clan Ain’t Nuthing ta Fuck Wit.”
The official song samples are:
– “Bless Ya Life” by KGB (Klik Ga Bow)
– “Children, Don’t Get Weary” by Booker T. & the MG’s
– “Guillotine (Swordz)” by Raekwon
Castlevania is M.I.A. That doesn’t mean, however, that RZA didn’t sample one of the compositions. It could’ve went unlisted for a variety of reasons, such as not wanting other producers to know the sample origin, or to avoid potential lawsuits for not clearing the sample with Konami.
“Glaciers of Ice” was the hot discussion topic the next day. My boys and I analyzed the track for hours trying to discover its Castlevania origins. This led to us playing Castlevania, Castlevania II: Simon’s Quest, Castlevania III: Dracula’s Curse, and Super Castlevania IV in hunt of the sampled composition. We never found it. It doesn’t really matter in the big scheme of things, really.
I can look back now and realize that it wasn’t just the sample hunt that intrigued us, it was the validation. The validation that our hobby, one frequently seen as the activity of basement-dwellers, was cool, exciting, and revolutionary.
Just like Wu-Tang Clan.
There are few video games that I’ll defend until breathless, and Metal Gear Solid 2: Sons of Liberty, a game originally released on November 12, 2001, is at the top of the list. Series creator Hideo Kojima proved himself a genius/world-class troll when he delivered an exquisite piece of postmodern storytelling that simultaneously pissed off and amazed his fan base. I thought it masterful when I originally played the game over a decade ago. I still do.
Sons of Liberty is a Metal Gear Solid game through and through. It requires using expert levels of stealth and deception—dart guns, electronics scramblers, distractions— to creep through enemy-filled hallways and avoid firefights. The dialogue is charmingly long-winded, sometimes too much so, which serves to both humanize the characters and, more importantly, set up gamers for the swerve to come. “This isn’t Shadow Moses, Snake.” The ultimate truth, the ultimate lie.
It’s those elements coming together that elevates Sons of Liberty into the video game pantheon. Or should I say, upon deeper reflection, the most obvious elements. Sons of Liberty holds a place in my heart for bringing me a sense of control during a time when I desperately needed the distraction despite the fact the game eerily mirrored elements of the very event that caused me, and the nation, great stress: 9-11.
I know many people outside of my urban bubble see New York City as the home to rude, fast-talking, godless, socialists, but it’s my home. I’ve been here since age three, and really couldn’t imagine any other city in the United States as my base of operations. I love the voices, the swagger, street fairs, music, and career mobility that NYC presents. When you’re feeling down, you can walk out your home and randomly stumble upon a local, neighborhood mini-parade. NYC is dependable in that way. When you have that rock in your corner you feel invincible, barring illness, death, rising costs, or airliners plowing into two of the world’s most iconic buildings.
My insides were as ripped as my skyline on that fateful day—and for weeks afterward. Even when life began to return to normal, small things would still pull the panic trigger. I distinctively remember riding the Q train to college, an elevated subway line in Brooklyn, and freaking out when I heard something banging into the iron worm’s side. Clank. Clank. Clank. It was tree branches hitting the subway cars’ metal bodies. Not bullets. Not mini-explosions. Tree branches. I had heard the sound before, but in the new world, the new context, it was different.
Metal Gear Solid 2: Sons of Liberty arrived in North America just two months after the heinous attacks. Sons of Liberty built on the excellent foundation laid by the original Metal Gear Solid by adding first-person aiming and a revamped cover system, but it was the story that snared me. It began with Solid Snake yet again hunting a Metal Gear, but quickly turned into something…different. Standard video game fare transformed in a wonderfully convoluted story featuring grand deception, political conspiracy, the use of the media and digital age to control the masses, and, finally, a Manhattan disaster. A “G.W.” even played a role—two of the three initials which belonged to the American president who presided over the country during 9-11 and its immediate aftermath.
This was an amazing moment of synchronicity. Kojima could not have anticipated that world events, and the related conspiracy theories, would lineup with his fictional universe. That didn’t matter one iota; Sons of Liberty quickly became my escape from the stress of the real world disaster. 9-11 broke my world and made me feel utterly helpless. Sons of Liberty put me in an active role within a bizarro version of that world where I could save humanity from disastrous happenings. It was empowering, even though the game revolved around the goofy idea of a mech dinosaur carrying a nuclear payload.
I interviewed Kojima in March 2012, and the Metal Gear creator mentioned that he decided to cut elements from Sons of Liberty‘s ending (in which the Arsenal Gear flying base crashes into downtown Manhattan) as it too closely mirrored real world events. He tactfully avoided answering the question directly. I pressed him a bit and he seemed uncomfortable. I’ve always suspected that Arsenal Gear plowed through the Twin Towers as it descended upon Manhattan. I’ll probably never get confirmation.
No loss, really. Sons of Liberty is an excellent game–I consider it the best in the main series purely for emotional reasons. If Kojima really did cut a wrecked World Trade Center from the game, it may have been the correct move. I’m not certain that I’d want one of my favorite games to actually replicate the real world to that degree, especially when the real-world chaos happened in my backyard.
I’ll continue playing Metal Gear Solid HD Collection on my PS Vita and reflect on a time when Sons of Liberty was more than a game–it was a therapy session featuring super soldiers, clones, supernatural abilities, and soapy, soapy melodrama. Sons of Liberty may no longer hold the same importance to me in the years since its release and the 9-11 attacks, but it still holds some importance if that makes any sense.
And I’m happy about that.
Image courtesy of Konami.
Conor McGregor is a trash-talking mixed martial artist who possesses a skill set that lets him back up his never-ending lip-flapping.
“The Notorious One” has the impressive footwork, speed, and striking ability of a man with an extensive boxing background. He’s good. Really good. I’ve followed McGregor’s meteoric UFC rise for a few months now, as he’s left a path of broken brawlers in his wake—and he’s done so in explosive fashion. Last weekend, during UFC Fight Night 59, the 17-2 featherweight dismantled veteran Dennis Siver in a short two-round affair, yet I no longer have interest in seeing the brash Irish star ever fight again.
The UFC’s shoved the talented loudmouth down its audience’s throat in the weeks leading up to the event, courtesy of a marketing push that even some of the company’s current title holders have yet to enjoy. The first major annoyance? The UFC announcers comparing McGregor to Muhammad Ali, an icon who transcended sports to become one of the faces of the Civil Rights movement. To be fair, to McGregor’s backed away from the promotion’s Cassius Clay comparisons. Props to him for that. The UFC would’ve had to contend with the massive fan blowback had McGregor took the company’s word as truth.
The second annoyance? The show’s production crew kept a camera pointed toward McGregor’s face at all times, just in case the fighter gave an over-the-top reaction as he watched fellow countrymen mix it up in The Octagon. Honestly, UFC Fight Night 59 felt more like a WWE event than a MMA event.
Then this happened.
Conor McGregor is now set to challenge Jose Aldo for the UFC featherweight title.
I understand that the UFC is desperate for a fresh supply of marketable fighters after a rough 2014 that saw the promotion lose top talent due to injuries and contract disputes. I also understand that the UFC will give fighters title fights based on more than just rankings—fan demand plays a role, too, and McGregor has lots of it. That said, this incredible push already has an online backlash; many UFC fans are hoping that either McGregor quickly fades away or Jose Aldo uppercuts his head into the fifth row.
Scaling back a bit, the UFC/McGregor situation made me ponder the nature of the entertainment media. New movies, albums, and video games are hyped to obscene levels—think about how we know the multi-year plans and release schedules for the upcoming DC and Marvel superhero flicks. We’re living in a time of hyperbole and never-ending anticipation, and it’s grating on me in a very bad way.
There’s a delicate dance of giving people what they want vs. giving people too much of what they want, and the UFC needs to quickly level McGregor’s scales before customers like me who are currently the dissatisfied minority become the majority.
Oh, the weather outside is frightful…so why not lending a loving hand to the New Yorkers who need warmth this holiday season?
Friends, I implore you to join me at Kevin Powell’s 14th Annual Holiday Party and Clothing Drive on 12/12/2014. Bring a clothing donation and you can join a night of music, comedy, dancing, and good vibes with no admission charge! Details below. Please share. I hope to see you there!
Image courtesy of Storage Clothing, Inc.
The New York Transit Museum is one of my favorite summertime destinations.
Seriously. I love learning about the intersection of culture and infrastructure in regards to New York City’s physical and lifestyle expansion. If you’ve never made the journey to the corner of Boerum Pl. and Schermerhorn St., please do so.
The New York Transit Museum offers many interesting events throughout the year, but few are as cool as the Nostalgia Ride. Held a handful of times throughout the year, the Nostalgia Ride lets ticket-holders board vintage trains headed to distant locations within city limits. I had the great fortune to participate in the Coney Island Nostalgia Ride on 7/12/2014. Here are some details courtesy of the New York Transit Museum:
Join us on the ever popular, boardwalk-bound Coney Island Nostalgia Train! Ride the 1930s R1/9 cars of the Independent Subway System above and below ground for a two-hour jaunt. Then visit Coney Island’s beach-side amusement park, take a dip in the ocean, or stay on the train for additional rides.
The well-kept cars were equipped with ceiling fans that kept passengers cool, retro advertisements straight out of the ’40s, and large windows that let natural light pour inside when we exited tunnels and surfaced. The train truly felt like a machine from another era. Others felt that, too. As the five R1/9 cars expressed through Brooklyn—and those suckers moved FAST!—commuters waiting for the regular rides marveled at the functional relics.
Once the train reached Coney Island, we were given several options: stay on board and ride the N and D train routes, take a small tour, parts ways permanently, or enjoy the beach/amusement park for a few hours until the train returned to pick you up. In addition, the friendly staff gave us small history lessons on the subway, passed around old school tokens, and took us on a tour when we reached our seaside destination. It was a leisurely, serene experience.
The younger passengers fiddled with their phones and tablet—much to their parents’ chagrin—but those of us over 30 snapped photos, filmed video, and exchanged subway stories. Perhaps appreciation of the past is something that comes in time as we make that not-so-slow march toward oblivion, but New Yorkers with even the slightest love for the subway system should give the Nostalgia Ride a go.
Howdy, y’all,
As previously mentioned in a blog post on this very site, my comic book script is completed.
I’m pretty decent with words, but not so much with the pencil. That’ll prove problematic when it comes time to pitch an indie work to publishers.
So, I’m in search of a comic book penciler who has a knack for sci-fi/mecha visuals. Send me samples and let’s talk! There shall be compensation.
Hit me up if you’re attending Special Edition: NYC. Let’s mix it up.