A "Touchy" Subject - Where "Touchy" Serves as a Pun, Because the Post Has to do With Touch-Sensitive Screen Technology

My actual eHarmony profile pic.

It's no secret we like to have fun here at the 'tron. Clara was going out for iced coffees and while she was gone, Becky and I put super-glue on her home keys. She comes back, sits down to crack out a post - uh-oh - stucksies! You should have seen her face - it was full of pain and sadness!

But it's important you know each of us are considered preeminent geniuses - excuse me, geniii, my new copy editor Ralph has informed me - in our particular fields. Take me, for instance. Yes, I'm a "race car driver", who's won the Singapore Grand Prix in 2008, but I don't appreciate the label. Do I do advanced vector space mathematics and helped establish the Goddard-Thorn Theorem - um, yeah, a teensy, so what?? You can't put me in a box!

My real passions - no surprises here - are space elevators, vertical farming, automated and electrified vehicular transport, getting Boy Meets World back on the air for all-new, ideally hour-long episodes, and creating a warless unified global culture (if we have time). Well, not that you haven't seen this one coming, but let's just add it to the list to make it official - yes, haptic and tactile feedback on pressure-sensitive, multitouch displays. Did I just hear a collective "well duh"? You knuckleheads! [shakes fist playfully]

Picture if you will this scene: It's 1:40 am in the morning at night. Darkness consumes everything, except for all the light sources. You're on 95 doing 85 pumping Jackson 5 on your 33⅓ (why didn't you upgrade?! Gramophones are the future!) Your best friend is in a coma - no, a gang war! - no, an execution line! - and the only way to save him is if you can get to the, I don't know, enemy's headquarters by 2:00. AM. At night.

You call an audible and take the off ramp at Exit 33. But which way at the light - left or right? You look at your nav screen. It says "Re-route? Press OK". Press OK?, you think. My best friend - and identical twin (had I mentioned that before?) is about to catch a lead one in the temple, and you have to Press 'OK'? You focus on the screen, find the appropriate rectangle, hit it - LOOK OUT!

You stupid, stupid fool. You just rear-ended the Pope Mobile. His Holiness is flippin' out, too, 'cause another DUI and he goes back to county. Despite little damage, you have to wait for police, exchange insurance info, the whole deal - not worth risking the bump in premiums. Plus, Heaven...

Meanwhile, a mere five miles away: [loud gunshot sound! Bad guys laughing and high-fiving! Your best friend, identical brother, and leading candidate for a recently-vacated Senate seat utters with his last breath - "Why, reader, why? Why didn't you promote haptic-feedback touchscreen technology and build awareness for this very serious issue? Whyyy? Hide my pr0n."]

Okay, let's come back now. You're fine - I know that was out-of-bodical, but you're fine. I simply dropped you in an artificial mental state. We're safe now. Did we learn anything? [a solitary cricket chirps, "no".] Really? Nothing about the dangers of touchscreens in vehicles and the need for haptic-feedback? Christ, you're kidding me. Go reread. GO!

[flips through Car & Driver]

Now that I have your attention, peep the vid:




Yeaaahhh. Those two minutes of your life be damned! Look. It's important. That could be your twin BFF in that papal collision. So what can you do, I'll pretend you asked? Contact your state legislator. Say something about johnatron, then mumble words like "touchscreen" and "gang wars" and "if you don't get this technology in the people's hands, a Senator will die!" Then just sit patiently and wait for them. I mean, it. The technology. Find your legislator's name here.

By the way, Clara just goes, "I'm still stuck!" She's crying so hard! What a pip!

Epilogue, For Those Interested

If you're trying to find plot holes, don't bother - I think these things through. You see, you had to deliver the microfilm of the surveillance video from the heist to the gang leader, Alejandro, who, no, is not Hispanic. Good racial conclusion you jumped to there. Way to set us back a year, gringo.

The New and Improved Johnatron - Now With Even More Bytes!

L to R: proposed NYC skyscraper, johnatron headquarters (not shown)

Big day over at johnatronica productions, llc. Big day. Financing finally came through, and I'm proud to announce we're now a partially-subsidized unit of Time-Warner's (yes, the Time-Warner - world's third largest media and entertainment conglomerate, whose subsidiaries include AOL, HBO, the CW Network, CNN and Adult Swim, and whose total assets amount to, oh, just $134 billion - yes, billion) startup competitor "Y2K 4Eva! Website Guyz" (trademark rejected). Y2K4E!WG's management team (Jared) has been working with the johnatron for over a day now, prepping the re-launch of blogspot.johnatron.com - what was considered during the first quarter of 2009 to be "a valid web address with often-functioning links". While critics mostly feigned hearing of us, Roger Sidewinder from Yahoo! Buzz frequently called us "stop emailing me" (3/21/09, 3/24/09 and 3/24/09).

Best of all, we now have a staff! Allow me to introduce you. Come on, allow me.

Meet Becky. Talk about a gossip, this one! I wonder how she gets any work done around here what with all the celebrity news she's constantly yapping about. John Ratzenberger this, Kirstie Alley that. Big Cheers fan, Becky.

Then there's Tommy. Tommm-mmaaaayyy!! My boy! My dude! Home-slice-a-nator!! Yeah, no, actually there's a pretty big generational gap there, Tommy and I. He's interning with us and man, oh man, do these teens speak a different language, what with the ridiculous acronyms and all! Yesterday he goes, "we should cover BHO's big speech at the NAACP". Say what? S.O.S.! Help an old guy out! R2D2! [briefly stiffens and alternately raises and lowers forearms mimicking a 1970s-era TV robot as a metaphor for the seemingly futuristic qualities of abbreviatory lingo common to today's youth in online forums]. Beep!

Clara's another gem. She came highly recommended by another industry colleague, though he worried there may be an issue given that she was born in the 90s. I said, "if I can work with Tommy, I'm sure I can work with Clara!" I was, however, surprised to find out he was referring the 1890s. Yeah, Clara's pushin' six score. Oh she's a doll, don't get me wrong, though possibly not blogosphere material. She tells us she's quite fond of talkies, and she often wonders aloud if we should give Grover Cleveland "another go 'round". Ironically, she joins us after co-founding TMZ.

Clara as a girl, on the "silly" take

Horace. Mute and born without fingertips, he doesn't add much. His mom, though, brings us Mallo Cups daily. It's actually kind of weird - she bring us all Mallo Cups. Daily. I guess maybe Horace's dad works for whoever makes Mallo Cups? I don't know, I can't crack this one. Kinda forgot they still made Mallo Cups. They do. They do.

Well, that's our little johnatron family. And that's what we are, too - a family. We live and die together, and you can't imagine the bond we've - actually wait I let Tommy go this morning. Forgot I did his bio already. So, it's me, Becky, Clara and Horace. A family. Shotgun dad!

So what can you expect from the new and improved johnatron? Well, let me ask you a question: do you like fast-paced, hard-hitting, old-school investigative journalism with a soft side for the warm story and a quirky side that'll keep your funny bone a-ticklin', brought to you day in, day out, with the kind of reliability you know you can count on?

You do? Huh.

Horace's mom brings Mallo Cups!!

50meOn3 h@ck3d my &L0G!!!!!!

Me at my actual computer. I have a weird operating system, I know.

My blog done got hacked. Am I disheartened? Sure, a little. Litigious? Come on, people. It's a [f-word] blog. Plus no lawyer seems to think I have a case, so...

When I discovered that a hacker cleverly tunneled into johnatron headquarters and Scotch®-taped the word "Post" over the word "Delete", I went through several classic stages that are common to any tragic scenario. The first is called "What's This Piece of Paper Taped to My Monitor?" Then there's the moment of realization - picture Brad Pitt in Seven when he found out what was in the box. It was his wife's head! Spoiler alert! (Don't worry, I'll reorder that in the second draft.)

There's an emotion called shock that you can't truly envision until you're embroiled in it. It's not unpleasant in the least; not even unsettling. In fact it's so benign - while you're trapped inside it - you may mistake it for giddiness. Me? I got a Capri-Sun®, put on The Maury Show (did you know tickets to the live taping are free?), and repeatedly bounced a tennis ball off the ceiling. I didn't know how much time passed, but I next awoke to my mailman harshly rapping at my door. "You can't just not get your mail," he said, heaving a Butterball® turkey-sized and -weighted stack of varied postables into my arms. I checked the postmark date on the Talbot's® catalog that rested on top. November 5, 1955. 1955!?! Had it really been negative fifty-four years!?

The shock eventually subsided, and I gradually understood what had happened. A hooligan of sorts - let's call him "Dan" - played what the history books will ultimately call "The Great American Button Swapperoo". And so the picture gradually became visible to me, just like a Polaroid® executive who slowly realizes that digital photography is here to stay. It's true: for the past six weeks, I've been writing my keen observations in a comical and yet insightful manner, daily - the only way you've come to expect the johnatron. But here's the catch - every time I thought I was hitting "Post", I was hitting "Delete". Can you imagine if Barry Shakespeare, after penning each breathtaking drama or side-splitting comedy, clicked "Delete" when he meant to click "Post"? Of course not - Shakespeare lived long before the internet even existed. Geez, America, you can be really dumb, education-wise.

Man, you should have seen some of the stuff I was writing. I remember there was this faux-memoir of Thomas Jefferson - I think I even used the word "slave"! I did some kind of goof on Sarah Palin being, you know, like, well you know how she is, so just imagine the wacky spin I must have put on it! I reported on some really good deals at Shoprite, like I do; there was my signature "airplane peanuts" bit; I was even embedded in an al-Qaeda hideout in the Paktia province of Afghanistan for three weeks, for which I thought I won a Peabody; that hope's dashed. As far as the artistic quality of my work goes, well, it was my blue period. Or, like, 'navy', or whatever the blue-ish hue on the Blogspot text color palette is called. It was classy; totally readable.

Who's the real victim here? I guess it's me. I really felt like I was hitting my stride. My grammar was straight-up on point, my vocab was like, really totally good. I was just putting it together like what-what-whatwhat-what, you know? And it's all lost. Just like Atlantis.

I always thought the real mystery of Atlantis was how its people could breathe underwater. There's just -- oh wait I just got it.

Stiff upper lip, reader. I always say "when milk spills, why the crap should you cry? You need to clean it up so it doesn't curdle - then, afterwards, regain your internal strength, buy some more milk (assuming you spilt the last of it), and push forwards with your life. Heck, there's no going backwards, right? Unless you have a time machine, and I'm sure you don't - they don't exist. In theory, yeah, but 'theoretic schmeoretic', I always say. You have to focus on what's in front of you, not the behind-part." I always say that.

*Some really funny anecdotes came out of that one. One had to do with the time Akmed's M-16 backfired, and it juuust missed igniting the cache of grenades like six feet away. He was all giggling and what not, like as in "wow, that was close!", but in Farsi, and right then a FIM-92 Stinger missile hit our camp, killing or maiming every one of us (I was in this little cavelet way in the back doing Sudoku, so I just kind of bumped my arm; I can still feel it now if I touch it, but whatever, it's war...). Anyway, later at the tribal ceremony, Najibullah was saying how Akmed was initially so lucky to escape his mortal fate, but it followed him until he was a casualty of jihad. Right then I go, "Yeah, looks like Akmed pulled an OJ Simpson!", or something like that, referring to OJ's acquittal of the 1994 double-murder charges, later followed by his 2008 conviction for kidnapping and assault with a deadly weapon. But I phrased really funny, and everyone cracked up. Ugh! I wish I could remember it word for word! This is so going to bug me!

Will Blog for Food But Preferably Money

My one hundred closest friends that also
have blogs and we talk on the phone at night
and text each other, plus we have blogs.

There's been a major misunderstanding - turns out I'm not getting paid for the johnatron™. When I conceived of and birthed the 'tron, I guess I sped through the Terms of Service. I fully misinterpreted this seemingly innocuous passage:

"You also agree that you will not use any robot, spider, other automated device, or manual process to monitor or copy any content from the Service." - Blogger Terms of Service, Clause 6, 'Intellectual Property Rights'

As this:

"What would you think of a stipend of, say, $650 per week? We'll front you $12,000 for various blogging-related expenditures (such as coffee and highly-elastic rubber bands you can shoot all around the room) as well as discretionary spending like maybe the new Amazon Kindle® whenever it comes out and a Roomba® - have you ever thought of getting a Roomba®? Obviously shots at the bar would fall under this -- you know what, it's yours, what are we dictating its use for? Go nuts, kid, go nuts."

Whoa. Talk about a typo. Now when I was fourteen and living in Burma a witch/eye doctor insinuated I could have demons/dyslexia, but as none in my lineage had ever been diagnosed with what's known as backwards brain, off I shrugged it. But here it comes, biting me in the rear like that Coppertone® ad from the '50s - not the one with the girl and the dog; there's a lesser-known one involving a sun-bathing priest in nothing but his clerical collar who wakes to an unfortunate burn and laments, "Jesus Christ, I wish I used that godforsaken Coppertone® crap". Poignant.

So here I am, penniless save my checking and savings accounts, some money-market investments, a 401(k), a number of still-maturing treasury bonds, equity in a single-family residence and an actual piggy-bank twelve years in development. But other than that - straight broke. But do I want to be viewed as a martyr? Yeah. Yes. Now.

Thanks, Blogger. And so we're clear, that was sarcasm.

The good news is I'm now selling banner ads at $9 per thousand impressions. Act now and I throw in a ShamWow®. So.

Breaking News - Someone Robbed a Bank! Part II

Moore's Law shat the bed on this one.

WHERE: TD Bank (formerly Commerce Bank) on Rt. 130 at Levitt Parkway in Willingboro

WHEN: Monday, 2/3/09, at 1:30 PM

WHAT: Undetermined amount of cash

HOW: Dude walked in, passed a note that presumably read "gimme valuable stuff" to the teller, who complied, then he left and drove off in his two-door silver Pontiac Grand-Am, like a punk.

WHY: Because he's a bad guy?

Joseph C. Bankrobber is in his mid-thirties to fifties, wears leather like he killed the cow and sports a thin mustache because his boyfriend likes it. He's just like you and me (white), except he wears pedophile glasses so he can see the kids better. We gotta catch this guy - he's too lame to be on our streets. My composite sketch shows just how creepy some people can look when you try to draw them that way. In full disclosure, I should say I added the pom-pom, cigarette and shifty eyes.

This is the first bank robbery in Burlington County in 2009. In 2007 there were three; 2008 - twenty-four. Even I with my degree in Multiples of Three know that's a bad trend. Call the Willingboro police at (609) 877-3003 if you're familiar with this kook. No questions will be asked except "wait, why are you familiar with this kook?"

It Appears I've Perfected Movie-Making

Mine's just out of frame to the left.

I couldn't sleep last night. I was overpowered by a vision: it was suddenly clear to me how to make the most legendary cinematic experience known to man. And it's surprisingly simple - I have it all mapped out in my head.

• CREATE AN EXCELLENT PLOT All the best movies have really good plots. I'll just put together a story that has a likable main character that the audience roots for. Oh, but there's a catch - he's deeply flawed. Then there are other characters - one's a girl, and the main character has this crazy crush on her. Then, various things happen - some you expect, some you don't. But here's the twist - at the end, there's a twist. All M. Night-like, but far twistier. Basically Citizen Kane's "Rosebud" and Rookie of the Year's "underhanded lob pitch", combined.
  
• GET THE BEST ACTOR This part's important - make sure to get the best actor. See if Tom Hanks is available, otherwise, Duchovny. Might have to first tell him that other big names are involved - which is okay, because once Hanks is on board, those other names will follow. May want to check with legal on this - when you get home, google "the law".
• GET THE HOTTEST AND BEST ACTRESS Sad to say, but in this day and age you'll need a really pretty actress. But she should also be the best at acting. Obvious person - Scarlett Johansson (backup - Diane Lane).
• USE A RENOWNED DIRECTOR I'd do it, but I should be in more of a production capacity. Probably Tarant -- wait wait wait. Duh - Kubrick! That guy made movies people still don't get. Settled. Kubrick. Plus he hasn't made anything in a while - he's probably dying to get back in the game.
  
• UNUSUAL CINEMATOGRAPHY If this movie's going to go down in history, it needs to be shot in some retro-futuristic arthouse style. Look on youtube to see what's considered the grittiest, rawest shooting techniques around. Possible tactics (and this is off the cuff): the whole thing shot in a mirror, or maybe everything's black-and-white except minorities? Or - if Kubrick greenlights it - all the scenes have the boom mic in frame. Sometimes an amateurish look works - maybe have a kid hold the camera? Google "child + behind + camera"; something should pop up right away.
  
• EXCESSIVE BUDGET The biggest-grossing movies have the biggest budgets. Seems overly simple, but no movie with a really ridiculously large budget has ever failed. We could probably get a quarter-billion. Hanks might even throw half in himself, and we'll tie his compensation to total gross sales (this happens all the time).
  
• TOP-SHELF MARKETING Whichever distributor picks it up needs to market it in a way that makes the movie very successful. It's worth spending a lot of money on promotions - this way, more people will know about and then see the movie. It's called "buzzing".
• GET CRITICAL ACCLAIM Hollywood's best movies over the years have one thing in common: they're all well-received by critics. My movie is no exception. Try to get a 98% or higher on Rotten Tomatoes; perfect 100 on Metacritic. This will help ensure the movie's success.
• WIN ALL THE AWARDS The easiest way to be remembered for making a great movie is for that movie to have won the Academy Award for Best Picture. Is a full sweep possible? You have Kubrick directing Hanks with a quarter-billion dollar budget - anything less than a sweep is a failure.
  

Oh my God, this is really going to happen. I can't believe no one's thought of this before. And I'm not even from the industry!

Brevity - Easier Said Than Done. What I Mean is, Sometimes It's Fine to Be Brief, Other Times It's More Appropriate to Use a Lot of Words.

When I was getting my doctorate in Doctoral Studies at doctordegrees123.com (it's actually not as prestigious as it sounds), the credits we earned were tied more to quantity than quality. I recall some of my classmates copying and pasting entire scripts of Who's the Boss? episodes solely for the purpose of meeting the 5,000 word minimum. As I tried to take my education a little more seriously, I kept my copy-paste plagiarism to medical shows like E.R. or Who's the Boss? (the later seasons when the storylines were on life-support - rimshot! Gotta get a rimshot guy on staff.)

So it's no wonder that my training in prolificity has spilled over into my leisure writing. I'll give you an example: one of my regular readers - for the time being let's call her 'mom' as she's married to my dad - broke the news that I could get the same point across in a tenth of the words. I rebutted her for nearly twenty minutes straight, emphasizing and re-emphasizing the virtues of a well-composed if loquacious diatribe. She later told me the call dropped two minutes in. Subsequently I emailed her my stance on the matter. She said her internet's been spotty and not to bother resending it for fear of "clogging up the cables".

The longest English-language novel is a work of the notorious late sci-fi writer and philosopher L. Ron Hubbard, now intergalactically known as "that creepy Earthling". It's called Mission Earth and it tips the scales at 1.2 million words. That might be an airy novella in the thin atmosphere of Uranus, but it's a weighty tome here on Earth. Of course, in today's world of inexpensive self-publishing, anyone can write a novel (seriously - they let anyone write these days), no matter how verbose. Hubbard's Earth looks like a pamphlet on childhood bulemia compared to Mark Leach's Marienbad My Love - 17 million words in sum. I bet Marienbad didn't even make it all the way through.

[You know, on second thought, the pamphlet could really be about any topic; childhood bulemia just took on the quality of 'littleness' to me and seemed contextually appropriate. Offended readers can call (877) SEAN-930 to express their contempt.]

I guess my point is this: tough cookies. If you're looking for a breezy stroll through the literary park, try Paulo Coelho's The Alchemist. You know what, try The Alchemist anyway, it's actually a pretty moving piece of literature. Plus it's wicked short so you can take it in in like one sit--

Eph.