Horray for minimal effort!

So, I saw Out of the Shadows last night.

But wait, there's more!

Let's get the good stuff out of the way, and yes, there will be spoilers. It was a significant improvement over the last movie. Bebop and Rocksteady were fun. Krang was fun. There was a lot less Megan O'Neil and a lot more Turtles. It was fun.

HOWEVER.

The plot was indescribably dumb. Once again, we have the turtles failing to mesh as a team. Haven't seen that before, except in every Turtle movie aside from #3. Not that there weren't other issues there. That is still the worst film.

While they fail to mesh, Shredder escapes jail (while being guarded by Casey Jones), only to meet Krang and agree to help the alien warlord take over earth, with almost no explanation or urging.

A return to classic dumb Shredder form.

After that, it's a misma of confusion and puns. Donatello's computer tells the turtles everything they'd ever need to know about Krang, Shredder, Bebop, Rocksteady, and everything else that comes their way. Never is there any questioning, or explanations. It's got plenty of fanservice, though, so original fans will get minimal enjoyment.

Quick sum up: Vern has taken credit for capturing Shredder in the last film, AKA bringing down a huge building in the middle of NYC. The turtles are mad that he's not sharing credit, even though Leo points out that he can't. April finds out uber-scientist Madea is working with Shredder. Shredder escapes from prison, meets Krang, immediately is like, 'yeah bruh, we'll take over the world, just help me destroy those blasted turtles.' Mikey wants to go outside, everyone else points out that they're basically monsters. Shredder turns Bebop and Rocksteady into mutants, and they're TOTALLY COOL with it. They LOVE it. Then it's a race across the globe to collect all the pieces of the yadda blah to bring the Technodrome here.

Yes, it's cool.

Shredder betrays Madea. April does nothing. Casey is there, does minimal sport-related stuff. Then Leo leans to use his brothers unique points of view, they save the world, and Krang betrays Shredder. The police give the turtles keys to the city in front of the Statue of liberty. Oh, and they all decide it's fine being turtles for no reason, after whining about it most of the film.

It's not good. But it's an improvement. At this rate we'll get a good turtles movie in 3 more films or so.

A week without internet. Sort of. Not really.

So, Bahamute and I got fiber optic internet installed last Saturday!

Except there's an outage and it won't actually work until this upcoming Saturday. But it's okay.

I have a small portable internet thing thanks to my cousins (message me if you're interested, it's a great deal), so we have limited access. Bahamute and I have caught up on some DVDs, and I've read  a lot more. Overall, a win.

We're going to see TMNT 2 tonight, and we've got plans with friends for the rest of the week. I can still blog at work. I even have some Rifftrax pre-downloaded on my Chromebooks. Life is good.

 Want to see Bones fight a giant rabbit?

I'll just have to work harder to get the blogs out every day. But I CAN DO IT!

Heartbeat

So, we've had a little more time to process the Pulse shooting. Not that any amount of processing is going to make this easier, better, or make any more sense.

"Everyone get out of pulse and keep running." That's what the club posted to it's Facebook page to help the patrons escape.  They may have saved lives. I use Facebook to crush candy.

33 of the 50 victims have been identified at the time I'm writing this.  Maybe more will be when it's actually posted. 'They' say the only sounds in the club are now the shuffling of the police and the phones of the dead. People trying to reach through a barrier no one may cross.

Thanks, Mr. Takei

There are plenty of reactions besides my stunned ramblings.  Trump wants to ban Muslim immigration, even though the shooter was born in America. Just in case this wasn't horrible enough. More are tweeting their congrats to death and murder. I'm not even shocked. Just sad.

Support happens, though. Go fund mes and blood donations.  If I can use a new take on an old phrase: We are here, Straight and Queer. There isn't any difference.

My best friend has summed things up better than I ever could:

"The first Pride was the Stonewall Riot. We remember a history of violence, conversion, rape, murder and the struggle to be seen simply a variation on a theme of love. A different way of walking through the world. 

We remember the kind of strength it takes to live authentically.

Be louder this Pride. Be bolder. Celebrate. Don't stay home.

As the lesbian feminists say "we are the daughters of the witches you failed to burn" "

One down, four to go

So, I've finished the first of my five books: Akira volume 2. And no, I haven't bought volume 3 yet. I have 4 more books to read before I get to do that. I'm still in the middle of The Fireman.

My issue now is I like to read something comic-y in the morning before work; something light and easy on the eyes. Maybe I'll finally re-read Sailor Moon. I own all of those, no need to worry about getting to my last book and having to buy more, like with Yu-Gi-Oh or Dragon Ball Z.

I'm also in the middle of Sailor Moon Crystal season 3. That won't get confusing!

It would be so easy to preorder Akira volume 3, have it ready for when I'm done with my five. But this isn't about easy.

Maybe it'll be nice to savor something for a bit. I get a lot of instant gratification these days. The pleasure of anticipation isn't uncommon, but it's not something I embrace. I wait years for movies or books when they're unpublished; waiting a few months for this won't be any different.

I don't want to start on Screwtape Letters until I'm done with The Fireman; I can do multiple novels at once, but it'll end up going slower overall. An old favorite like Sailor Moon or DBZ is my best bet.

Well, there's something to look forward to. More Sailor Moon!

Well, Sailor V, then Sailor Moon. I'm not an animal.

*Price is right loser music*

The Itch

I feel the itch. It’s creeping up my spine, down my arms, tingling along my fingers. It would be so easy to dial up Amazon, put in a pre-order for Akira volume 3: I’m almost done with the 2^nd volume. Just a few newspaper print pages stand between me and the end of every good story; a cardboard cover.

I made a promise. I’m being fiscally responsible. I’m still in the middle of 2 other books; one series of Midwestern ghost stories for my purse, one hefty apocalyptic Joe Hill novel for home. I have another manga on the way. Yu-Gi-Oh, my guilty pleasure. How do I explain that it’s more than stupid card games and censored sexuality?

The itch.

I’m not even done with Akira volume 2. We haven’t even seen Akira yet. Just the rebels and the military of post nuclear bomb (no not those two, another one) Neo-Toyko. But I have to know. The Movie won’t do. Will the movie cover the painful days Kaneda spent hidden with Kei, dodging cops and the military? The weeks Tetsuo spent in blinding pain building up a murderous gang, his induction into the facility, his numbering, his growing power and escape?

Probably. But not as slowly or delicately. Not with the black and white intensity on those tissue pages.

What about The Fireman? Harper and her burning dragonscale disease? The baby inside her, waiting to see if it can be born before its mother bursts into flames? The mysterious trick-or-treaters passing out hope and prenatal vitamins dressed as Tony the Tiger and Captain America? What about the rest of the world, charred and cindered? 

I don’t ache. I don’t burn. I itch. I dig into those pages, scratch the surface of another mind, balm myself in words. 

I’ll hold off. Maybe I can blaze through my Fireman, burn through two hells, and ride a dragon to fiery glory at the end. 

I will scratch that itch.

Pulse

I just saw the news.

There's a lot of information to process right now, and I don't have the time or fortitude to do it. I'm siting at a theater, about to watch my brother in law in Jesus Christ Superstar. His husband is on the way to join us. The family is coming from out of town.

I listen to Elton John on the radio while we drove here. Does that mean anything?

My husband says I seem distant. I feel like I'm a dimension over, separated from reality by a paper thin screen. Or a computer screen.

I'll have more to say later, when my banal blogs about words and books and my life pass. For now, there's a a stage and a show and glitz and glamour and death that ends with the bows.

God help us.