Today, I shopped hungry. I was barely past the threshold when I heard the siren call of the junk-food aisle. I had no mast upon which to be tied so did not fare as well as Odysseus. I survived, but not unscathed. My larder is full of lard. Frozen pizza, ramen noodles, nachos, cinnamon rolls in a tube.

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And frozen corn dogs.

Corn dogs. I’ve never had a corn dog. I’ve never wanted a corn dog. Corn dogs are temporary food sold at fair grounds. They are to be eaten by children, then returned as mulch after a particularly vigorous spin on the Tilt-a-Whirl. Yet, I now have a supply of corn dogs.

Some good must come of this, and I’m hungry. I shall feast upon these corn dogs and relate the experience as it happens.

The instructions say to pre-heat the oven to 200°C, then cook from frozen for 15 minutes. Well, that’s about 25 minutes in total. Duration-wise, that’s not exactly the most convenient of convenience foods. I could scratch bake a lasagne in about twice that time, so logic dictates these will be half as good as a lasagne. That bodes well.

Time’s almost up, so I peek in the oven. The smell is sort of over-used oil, abandoned deli meat warming in the sun, and the acrid sour smell of a burning plastic cup. Just like at a fair ground. So far, so good.

I take them out of the oven. They’re sizzling and bubbling on the surface. Clearly I won’t be falling short of my recommended daily allowance of saturated fat on this day. The burned plastic smell has ebbed, so I will be able to get these to my mouth without gagging.

I’ve seen people eating these on television. Fear Factor, I think. I know that you must draw alternating stripes of ketchup and mustard down the length of the dog prior to eating. Emily Post would be proud.

Ok. Not too bad. Kind of crispy on the outside. Fluffy, bordering on doughy on the inside. And a hot dog in the centre.

Edible, and only somewhat unpleasant. The ketchup and mustard are good. The over-used oil taste overwhelms the bland hot dog. It’s hot all the way to the middle, which is nice. I find a lot of “cook from frozen” convenience foods tend to be “eat when mostly not frozen”.

I cooked three, which was a mistake. They’re a bit deceptive. Each bite seems light enough, but they sit and congeal in your stomach. After two, I feel like I’ve eaten several loaves of raw bread dough. I’m not hungry any more.

There we have it. They smell odd when you’re cooking them, taste odd when you’re eating them, and feel odd once you’ve swallowed them. At the end, you are full. I would have the same review if I had cooked and eaten a boot. I won’t be needing to buy those ever again. I do have about 16 more to get through. I have a feeling there isn’t much chance of them going off, even if I stored them on a furnace vent.

Let’s move on, though. Is Buzz any good?

As an information consumer, it’s probably fairly good. You have a friend who is active on the Internet, or want to follow a celebrity, it’s now a click away. One stop, and you see just about their entire presence on the web.

©google.com

As an information producer, it seems ok as well. You can stop linking your Twitter account to your Facebook, and your Facebook account to Google Reader. You can stop sending Google Reader posts via email. Use whatever information source is convenient, and your followers will see it.

It falls apart a bit, in my opinion, for people who are both consumers and producers. If I create a blog entry, or a Tweet, it shows up in my own Buzz. Why would I want to see my own stuff? Ok, that can probably be turned off easily (I haven’t discovered how). Also, any time I use one of those content producers (Twitter, Facebook, YouTube), then whatever I see on there I will see duplicated when I look at Buzz.

If their intent was that you were supposed to do everything through Buzz, then why have it aggregate at all? To give people a reason to use it until it slowly replaces everything else? Now that I type that, I realise that that may be partly the intention.

I suppose you would call the GMail integration the “client”. It’s not great, though. There are a few things that aren’t bad, such as the live updates. They’re not quite live, though. There’s still a refresh button. That adds confusion. Some things are interactive, some are not. The inbox integration is a disaster. Who in their right mind even conceived of that? Any comment on anything by anyone including yourself is sent to your inbox? Who do I punch in the throat? Glad the filter solution didn’t take long to show up!

I see several areas where it adds complexity and confusion. Particularly if you’re not savvy enough to squelch it. When I post a twitter, I don’t expect a reply to show up in my email. Only, it’s not an email any more. You may not notice, but it’s now a Buzz, so your reply is public and added to the live feed.

I’m all for blurring the line. I’m not sure doing that by moving the line around so fast and counter-intuitively that you lose track is the best approach.

For me, it smells a bit of the Wave project group scrambling to get some use out of the code library they must have spent millions building.

Buzz is an excellent name for this. It’s a noise aggregator. I, for one, don’t want to aggregate noise. I’m willing to see how it develops. I hope they smooth it out quickly. I will only tolerate gnats buzzing around my ears for so long before I just take my beer and retreat inside.

When something was on, we watched it. If it was awful, it didn’t matter. There was simply nothing else on. These are some of the awful things I remember from that time. Each one lovingly archived and restored. At least I think they’re restored. Reception was really bad back then.

If memory serves; CBC was really “mostly CBC” with a shimmering background of “TKTV” distinctly visible. “TKTV”, on the other hand, had a wavering backdrop of “CBC” with the ghostly bleed through of French audio from CBC Radio Canada (French CBC, so pronounce it “say-BAY-say RAHdeeoh caNAdah“).

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You’ve been stuck working late. On your feet all day. Even your bathroom breaks have been rushed. You’ve been wearing your crappy runners laced too tightly. You get home and finally free your feet. Your 20-for-a-dollar WalMart socks peel off like damp Bandaids leaving your skin deeply ridged. It itches like crazy, almost burns, and you finally get to scratch the top of your abused feet. Oh, yeah. Better than sex! Ok, not better than sex. Scratching your feet while having sex would be better than sex, but it still feels pretty darn good.

You’ve been fighting off the flu for days. You thought you were over it but, when you wake up, your nose is completely plugged. Not a wisp of air getting through when you try to blow. You have your morning shower. You dry off and try blowing your nose again. And it works. Completely. Your entire head feels hollow. Sort of the olfactory version of that “fresh from the dentist” feeling. Got to love that.

You pop open a new box of Tic-Tacs and toss a couple in your mouth. For that first second, before the mint really kicks in, you get that mysterious yet fleeting creamy vanilla flavour. I wish the whole Tic-Tac tasted like that.

Waking up thinking it’s almost morning only to discover you’ve still got four or five more hours to go is nice. It’s a distant second, though. The alarm goes off. It’s way too early! You just can’t handle the day. Not yet. Wait! It’s Saturday! You forgot to turn off the alarm last night. Oh, yeah. That three seconds of joy before you fall back to sleep is fantastic. But only if it’s legitimate. You can’t get that level of satisfaction trying to pull a fast one on your brain and purposefully leaving the alarm on.

My take? They were there to kidnap 33 children and completely understood what they were doing. I’m sure that they are fully deluded beyond repair. That from their perspective they were rescuing children from godless satanic Haiti. Does their perspective in any way change the fact that they’re criminals exploiting children in a devastated country and need to be rotting in a Haitian jail? No more than the perspective of a rapist thinking “she was asking for it” should impact his sentence.

I don’t think for the briefest moment that there was any mistake here. I am sure from their eyes, all the children of Haiti need to be “rescued” from their parents. Orphans would be convenient, but any children would do.

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Roosewelt Pinheiro/Abr

It disgusts me completely that their culpability is even up for discussion. Headlines like “Criminals or Saviours?”. Why is this a question? One of the small girls was crying that she wasn’t an orphan and that she was mislead into believing she was going to a boarding school or camp. For a legitimate group, to hear such a thing from one of their charges would send them into a sleepless panic until the horrible mistake was fully rectified.

At least one of the parents had said that they willingly gave their child to live in a better place. So that’s ok, right? Not at all. These confidence artists expertly exploited their position. A mother in the midst of a disaster cannot make such a choice in the brief time that could have been allotted. If she could, then groups with the child’s real welfare at heart need to become involved to protect the child from such a dangerous situation. Whether the solution in such a case is working with the mother or not, this should be a red flag that complicates the process, not a situation that speeds it. One also cannot fail to miss that this incident begs the question, “if you were here to rescue orphans, why were you soliciting parents to relinquish their children?”

Thankfully, the Haitian Prime Minister, Jean-Max Bellerive smells this stinking rat. He has said, “For me, it’s not Americans who’ve been arrested, it’s kidnappers who have been arrested.”

I hope the Haitian penalty for kidnapping, with planning and foresight, 33 helpless children is particularly brutal. Unfortunately, I think the end result will be U.S. government meddling, well placed bribes from tax-free church coffers, and a ticker-tape parade for these poor, persecuted heroes.

Rescuing orphans or trying to fast-track adoptions sounds like a grand idea. The bureaucracy is hugely inconvenient and, when performed solely for bureaucracies sake, can be a terrible detriment. Not now. Not when the good bureaucracy is in disarray along with the bad. I would love to see an international agreement that froze all adoptions from regions impacted by a significant natural disaster. I don’t pretend to know how this would work, exactly. I do realise that the waiting parents would suffer greatly, as might the poor children caught up in it. I just feel that if you are going to fast-track anything, it should be support from their future home country to aid them and improve their conditions while they wait for the country to recover.

The alternative is clearly demonstrated.

Their small meal was consumed in silence. “You have been very quiet, yet you should be full of questions, Ordan,” said Brynn as he sipped at his tea.

“Many questions. Yes. But I sit here wondering why I have invited a stranger in to my house and why I am making plans to leave my village tomorrow.”

“I expected as much. My influence over you has faded quickly.”

Ordan bristled. “Influence? Speak quickly, now. This village is a superstitious lot. A cry of daemon will bring you more trouble than any one man can handle.”

Brynn showed no outward sign of concern. “Perhaps that word holds too strong a meaning. I only levelled your emotions for a time. Allowed you to see things as they were and evaluate the situation fairly. My influence, really, is not much stronger than the influence of this tea we’re drinking.”

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“Keep talking. I will need more than that if I am to choose to let you live.” He made no attempt to conceal the motion as he moved his hand to the hilt of his dagger.

“I have always been able to calm strangers,” he said as he put his tea beside the fire, “little else. When a person must deal with a stranger, they tend to make snap judgements based on few facts. All I do is make people react more like they would with a friend. Think back to what lead us here. The only thing odd is that you trusted a stranger more than you normally would. You made no decisions otherwise out of character.”

Ordan was starting to calm down. Was the danger past, or was Brynn up to more tricks? “You speak some sense, but how do I know you’re not playing your tricks right now?”

“It’s no trick I play. That would suggest there is more to it than there is. Ah, I suppose I could steer a conversation in some regard. Allowing a rash judgement when it benefited me, preventing one when it didn’t. I don’t think I have that much control over it. I regard it more as an aura of good will.

“Even then, it only effects strangers. As I said, I relax the unease that comes from meeting someone new. That unease quickly fades and with it what little influence I have.”

The man’s words were persuasive. “Ok, Brynn, we’ll talk on this more tomorrow. I don’t trust you, but I’m quite sure I don’t fear you either. Even so, I sleep lightly. So don’t try anything.”

I have a myth I want busted. Busted as in “evaluated on MythBusters”. It’s along the same vein as “dropped bullet vs. fired bullet”. You’re not going to bust gravity, so there is little surprise when it’s confirmed. Still, it’s really cool to see it played out. Much like when Commander David Scott dropped a hammer and falcon feather on the moon (spoiler: Galileo was right).

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I have heard a Formula One car could race along the ceiling of a tunnel. The physics certainly bear that out. The downforce matches the 605kg weight of the car and driver at a little over 125 km/h. At about 190 km/h, the downforce is about double.

The trick would be organising it. The tunnel would have to have a large enough diameter so that the curvature wouldn’t impede the ground effects. That, or build a cool MythBooster that held the car upside down and pushed it along the top of a tunnel until it stuck. Well. That sounds pretty cool. I’d like to see Grant whip that together using parts from the sword swinging rig. Also, before the run you might want to check the tunnel for lose tiles, traffic signs, extraction fans, and what have you.

There is also the little problem of fuel. I don’t imagine the engineers spent a great deal of time getting the fuel system to function efficiently while inverted. Then again, guessing without having any knowledge about it, perhaps the fuel is in a collapsible bladder that already works inverted. They’re fuel injected, so no issues with fuel pouring out of the carburetor. Similar issues with oil and cooling.

So, MythBusters. Are you up for it? Borrow a five million dollar car. Spend three or four times that getting it to run properly inverted. Find a suitable four or six lane tunnel and close it for a few days. Might be cheaper to build your own, actually. Do that, and when the episode airs I promise not to fast-forward through the commercials. Deal?

The light was beginning to fade and the cool, damp air was holding the evening smoke low over the village. Mealtime chatter and the squeals of rambunctious children could be heard from the huddled cabins. What had come to be called the road was empty. It was more a rubble track connecting the gaps between cabins that, by happenstance, were large enough to accommodate a cart and donkey.

Though it appeared that the town had a reckless disregard for planning, that was not completely the case. The outer most cabins had extended rear walls. The town was left open most of the time, but panels could be placed quickly to complete a ring wall of sturdy logs. Not intended to keep out people, it kept the town safe during the twice-yearly migrations. Large packs of carnivores were drawn by the smell of food. The animals were intelligent enough to breach the defences if they tried, but the urge to continue the migration was strong enough that they rarely lingered.

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Ordan’s cabin was one of those in the outer ring. Any villager showing weapons skill was encouraged to choose such a location. Packed moss could be pulled from sections of his rear wall to reveal archer slots, but he had not yet found the need to do so. His was one of the smallest homes in the village, and that was how he liked it. A bed to one side of the door, and a low table next to a fire pit and chimney hood on the other. His belongings were scattered about on shelves and hooks. A well was just around the corner, and an outhouse was far enough to avoid the smell, but close enough for convenience.

Ordan gestured down the road as he turned to Brynn. “There’s a wood pile between the cabins. Three down. I’ll go get us some food from the cold pit.” No formalities were required to assign chores to a guest. Not to do so would be implying that the guess was too infirm to be of use.

Brynn nodded silently and went to collect supplies for a fire. Ordan never could have asked him to collect the meal. A stranger could be seen taking a little wood for a fire without raising concern, but certainly not poking around the village cache. Ordan took a small container of rendered fat, a little bit of fat pork, and some grain for breakfast porridge. He returned to find the fire well under way. The water bucket was full, as was a small pot sitting near the fire.

“There are some Kinra leaves in that box nearest the bed if you want to mellow a bit with supper.”

Brynn took half a dozen of the dried leaves and dropped them in the water by the fire. They would brew into a slightly acidic tea with a definite taste of citrus and smoke. It relaxed the muscles and calmed the mind. A perfect drink to ready one for sleep. While that started to steep, Ordan began frying the pork and set the grain aside to soak for morning.

Here, there be spoilers. If that comes as a surprise to you, given the purpose of this article, you deserve to have your enjoyment of a middling 29-year-old movie slightly marred.

© 1981 MGM

We’re only a few minutes in when we see the exterior of Airforce One. The computer simulation used as the plane crashes is of a different configuration. Notice the engines have moved from the tail to under the wings.

© 1981 MGM

Not only can this amazing plane move its engines, but it’s a Tardis. It’s a widebody on the inside, but not on the outside. You can really tell the difference when they show the wreckage.

© 1981 MGM

Not to be outdone by a mere aeroplane, this man in the main control room demonstrates he has similar control over time and space. At least where it relates to his jacket. He takes it off several times over the course of a minute or two.

© 1981 MGM

Perhaps Snake caught that episode of MythBusters showing that pirates may have used patches to preserve night vision in one eye. Either way, Snake, you’re busted. That eyeball looks fine from here. If a name like Snake and a tattoo of a cobra slinking out of your shorts doesn’t get you the girls, a phoney eye-patch doesn’t have a chance.

© 1981 MGM

IMDB calls this scene out. Adrien Barboobs (I mean “Maggie”), Snake and Cabby (Earnest Borg-9) enter the house. The camera switches to an interior shot and they’ve really changed locations. I’m letting this one slide. Maggie didn’t have a torch in her hand when she answered the door. It just looks to me like she took a moment to get one.

© 1981 MGM

This one is pretty obvious once you’re told. It’s an audio goof, so the picture is just to set the scene. Duke is taking pot-shots at Mr. Pres. The loud blasts are echoing through the building, but that’s Snakes snazzy silenced Uzi. They’ve got completely the wrong sound effect. It does add drama, though.

© 1981 MGM

I’m not sure exactly what’s going on here. There is a mysterious hand poking out from behind a post giving “get up” stage direction to some unseen entity. Look just above the head of the guy sitting on the left. This scene is just prior to the fight-to-the-death.

© 1981 MGM

Alright, this fight scene has the goofs flying more furiously than the bats. Once they switch to spiked bats, it’s quickly clear just how rubbery the “nails” are. That’s nothing compared to the bat that lands the killing blow. It starts stuck to the giant guys head, but is gone when he slumps over the ropes. The camera angle changes, and Snake accidentally knocks the club off the guys head (wait, how did that get back on there?) and it clearly drops to the floor. Another change in camera angle, and there’s that damn bat stuck in his head again.

© 1981 MGM

This last one is on IMDB as well. How do I know? I put it on there myself years ago. The team revisits the roof only to discover the glider has just been trashed. Oh, well. They return to the elevator. When the doors close, look to the right. The hand of the person pushing the doors closed has let their fingers show. Never mind. They’re still using that particular technology on the Enterprise.

And that, as they say, is that. They beat Logan’s Run if you’re scoring by the numbers, but some of these were real doozies. No harm done, though. Nobody went to this movie expecting “Waiting for Godot”. It’s a blast. Particularly if you’ve got a few beers in you. It’s definitely earned its status as a minor cult classic.

All “Escape From New York” images are copyright © 1981 MGM and are presented at reduced resolution using “fair use” doctrine.