Robostop

I won’t get too deep into this subject, but this strip amused me because for the past couple years I’ve been questioning how much better we are as a civilization due to industrialization. How many human-operated jobs have been replaced by machinery, and at what cost?

An immediately obvious example that we see every day is the automobile. It seems that ever since the advent of robotic painters, the paint jobs on new cars are complete crap. I’m not just talking about entry-level Korean offerings, either. I see cars from Kia all the way up to Ferrari that have completely unforgivable orange peel in their paint jobs. Kia, okay, it’s an economy car. But Ferrari? I spied a black Ferrari 599 in a parking lot not too long ago, and I was flabbergasted by its sub-par paint.

The argument has been made the orange peel is the result of more stringent EPA regulations clamping down on the types of paint that can be used, blah blah blah. It’s simple: if one buys a Ferrari, one should expect a flawless paint job. Period. FIX IT.

I saw the same shameful paint job on a Mercedes R-class. Is their affiliation with Chrysler blurring what’s good and bad? Ironically, the Chryslers seem to have a more even paint application.

Thanks to the Perry Bible Fellowship.

Taking Stock of BS

This morning I was lamenting the fact that I just can’t seem to find a good, reliable source for stock tips. I mean, who really knows? Who can you really trust?

Suddenly, sent by the Heavens of Financial Gain, my prayers were answered by a certain Mr. Phlebotomist G. Unruly. As soon as I saw the email's subject line “syphilis crumple”, I knew I’d found my permanent source for solid stock tips and prosperity. Ahhhh. Warm fuzzies.

I got to work right away, using these guidelines they provided (because this stock is guaranteed to skyrocket!):

"1GB of vibrant percussion instruments with multiple mic positions and varied, expressive articulations. This takes out the last remaining independent analyst that covered EDA as an industry. DJ Niki Belucci, right, is the latest topless DJ on the scene. Now, two minor complaints. After all, if it's not bribery, how do you explain a ruling so lopsidedly in favor of industry at the expense of consumers and to the detriment of innovation? Nebenbei versuche ich, mich der arabischen Medienwelt etwas zu naehern."

Wow. Now that’s good stuff. Market analysis is for suckers. Tahiti, here I come.

One would think that spammers, phishers, and hackers--who need to be dipped in lye and forced to sweat--would use, oh I don’t know, a more credible means of getting one’s attention. First of all, the “sender’s” name. Second, what’s with all the gibberish at the end of the emails? If someone somehow got through the First Stage of Reader Gullibility, the gibberish will be a deal breaker.

Ironically, I just got another one titled The Bull Report. A more apt name, I couldn’t give you.

Coat Dream

One of the items on the ever-increasing list of cool things that my Lady Faire does is freelance wardrobe/tech-type stuff for a theater. She’ll get contracted to work in some type of wardrobe capacity for a show that comes through town, such as Cats, Camelot, etc., and although she’s explained to me a thousand times what the job entails, I have never understood it completely. All I know is that it’s exhausting work, requires driving a great distance, makes for an incredibly long day, and she adores it.

She had asked me some time ago that if given the opportunity, would I like to work at one of these things to see what it’s all about. I’d be hired most likely as a stagehand or just a grunt, and even though I have zero credentials, I said yes. This particular production was for Joseph and the Amazing Technicolor Dreamcoat. As I’ve mentioned in an earlier post, I don’t care much for musicals. That didn’t matter because I would be setting up and breaking down the show, not actually watching it.

So, LF, Lau, and I left for Lowell at 5AM, and the weather was just ridiculous with sleet, freezing rain, snow, the whole bit. Actually, the weather wasn’t as ridiculous as the jackasses who drove as if the roads were completely dry. It seemed that every two miles we saw a car in the woods, against a guardrail, or in the median. Incredibly, we still made surprisingly good time.

We arrived at the Lowell Memorial Auditorium, and the tractor trailers are already there, as well as the “talent” bus. If we got there at 6:15AM, I can only imagine what time this troupe got there. I got introduced to a few people, mostly the ones I’d be reporting to directly, and I forewarned them that I’m not too savvy when it comes to the processes for this kind of stuff, but I follow direction reasonably well. I was assigned to “props”. At 8AM sharp, all hands were assigned to unloading the tractor trailers in the wind-driven rain and sleet. This is where I started to grasp the magnitude of this particular production. We unloaded road case after road case after road case, and then came the lights. I’ve always been intrigued by stage lights, mostly by how well they’re orchestrated and how they work in general. I’d never actually seen any up close, however, and these were those crazy motorized lights that articulate every which way, change colors and beams, etc. What I also learned is that these things are @%@$#^& heavy. I couldn’t get over how many lights were used for this play; easily rivaling any concert I’d ever been to. After all the lights were off the truck, then came the seemingly endless train of wardrobes. All of this stuff is sprawled out wherever there’s an open space, and I can’t believe it will ever be set up in time.

As all of the unloading is going on, I’m doing my best to be involved and busting my butt while simultaneously trying to stay out of the way. I’m also taking note of the people I’m working with. I don’t know how many of them do this full time, but it’s evident to me that they all know each other and have done this a lot and that I’m a complete outsider; I was transported back to being the new kid on the first day of school (which I have done a lot). It kind or reminded me of Twister, where all the tornado chasers are a super close-knit group and use terminology no one outside the sacred circle would ever understand (it was fictitious terminology anyway). As we go along, I’m also noticing just how over-the-top and dramatic a lot of them are. I wondered if it’s possible that all theater folk regardless of their role in the production are just naturally dramatic. Then it dawned on me: no, it has little to nothing to do with their working in theater; it’s because they’re in their early twenties and that’s just how people that age act. I’m thirty-five, and it’s only now that I can actually see the difference. When you’re between eighteen and twenty-four, everything’s the most important thing in the world and everyone’s a victim. A good deal of sighing and exasperated mutterings abound. No doubt when I’m fifty, I’ll look back on thirty-five as and not believe how wound up I was then.

Persistent, curious stench of bong water notwithstanding, the operation was seamless and everything was assembled and ready to go by 11AM. Showtime was at 8PM, and my services were not required again until 9:30. That meant that I had a good 9 ½ hours to kill. LF was still busy with wardrobe stuff, so I was on my own. The weather was SO abysmal, I just couldn’t muster up the ambition to leave the building. So, I grabbed my book, headed to the balcony, and just read, read, read. Then I read some more.

9:30 finally rolls around and we’re back in business. Load-out for some reason seemed to be a lot faster than load-in, and we were finally on the road at about 12:30.

Would I do it again? Absolutely. Now I know pretty much what to expect, and I will concoct better ways of killing 9 ½ hours. All in all, the people were really cool. It meant taking a day off work, but it was definitely worth it and a much-needed break in the monotony.

What’s next? Jesus Christ Superstar. I won’t be working that one, but LF is. I have to admit that I’m envious because Judas is going to be played by none other than Corey Glover, lead singer of Living Colour. Sublime.