Wednesday, December 30, 2009

Buzz Tweets.

So recently this Avatar movie came out. I've been waiting to see this for a very long time. But I couldn't afford to see it as soon as it opened. IMAX 3D movies are really expensive! So I had to wait. And waiting is dangerous for certain movies. There have been times in the past when I wasn't able to enjoy a movie because I had heard so many intense emotional responses to it before I got a chance to see it. For example, I couldn't see Pixar's Up until about a month into its release. In that time, I saw a thousand different tweets and status updates proclaiming how heart-wrenching it was, and how every single person who saw it had cried. Every single person. This prevented me from having a truly pure viewing experience, which is the reason I go to the movies in the first place. When I finally saw Up, I knew from a mile away what was going to happen, and I wasn't emotionally affected at all. Maybe something like that wouldn't bother some viewers. Some people like to know everything going in. But I don't like to know anything going in, period.

So when Avatar came out, I tweeted:

"I want everyone to stop tweeting about Avatar until I can see it. You're going to ruin it for me."

I knew this was an unreasonable request, made with tongue lodged firmly in cheek, but I figured it might possibly curb some of the commentary. People maybe would word their tweets more carefully. Immediately, my friend Tom posted like five tweets about how perfect Avatar was. Which he's totally entitled to do. But this was exactly the kind of thing I was hoping to avoid. Buzz that would create unreasonable expectations. So I took Tom off my follow list. And even then, I knew this would be a hassle. Because Tom's tweets are protected, so he would have to approve me when I re-followed him later on. And I knew Tom would probably give me a hard time about it. But it was either stop following him, or stop logging onto Twitter altogether. I'm sure if I was doing something that was compromising Tom's potential enjoyment of a James Cameron movie, he would want to avoid it as well.

So, like ten days later, my brother and I were finally able to see Avatar. I went ahead and sent Tom a follow request. The next day, Tom tweeted this:

"Diego unfollowed me over Avatar hyperbole. Now that he's seen it, a new follow request has arrived. Yeah. Let me get back to you on that."


Why was he taking offense to this? He knew I was just trying to avoid Avatar discussion. I think he was just enjoying the power trip, creating drama out of a non-issue. I told him he shouldn't be offended because I didn't unfollow him for any personal reasons. I also suggested he was being a baby. He said unfollowing someone over non-spoiler hyperbole was "similarly infantile (winky face)." But exactly how is that infantile? I didn't block him from seeing my tweets. I didn't do anything that affected anyone but myself.

The word "spoiler" has come to be synonymous with specific plot points, but lots of things can spoil a movie. And "non-spoiler hyperbole," or "buzz," has spoiled many a viewing experience for me in the past. So now what, he wants to punish me for having a perfectly reasonable movie viewing preference? He knows I only meant to unfollow him temporarily. He should be honored that someone would even be interested in reading his stupid tweets.


Saturday, December 26, 2009

2006 Dell Battery Recall.

In 2006, they recalled a bunch of Dell laptop batteries because they were exploding or something. They told everyone to check the little numbers on their batteries to see if they needed to be recalled. Of my two batteries, one was part of the recall. So I just stuck it in my laptop bag and used the other one. It's nice having two batteries. I used to switch them out sometimes if one ran out and I couldn't plug into a wall socket for whatever reason. But since 2006, I've just been using the one, and the other just sat in my bag. I don't know why I never sent it in to get a free non-exploding replacement. To be fair, I did forget about it soon after, and haven't necessarily been consciously aware of this situation for the past three years.

Anyway, the other night, my battery broke. I don't know how it happened. I was running on battery power and walked away from the computer. The battery ran down to zero and the computer shut itself down. That's happened before. But when I plugged it in to recharge it, the battery started giving me error codes. I think it's dead. And I can't use my other battery, because it's one of the exploding ones. So I finally ordered the replacement today. It'll be here in 20 business days. I guess the real lesson here is, if there's a worldwide recall for your laptop battery, order the replacement right away. Because your other battery might break like three years later.

Tuesday, December 1, 2009

Alec Baldwin.

So Alec Baldwin says that he plans to retire from acting when his 30 Rock contract expires in 2012. I remember he said he was gonna quit acting a couple years ago because he wanted to devote his life to helping fight parental alienation in divorce cases. Now it seems he wants to retire because he's disappointed with his overall performance on the big screen, and has therefore lost all interest in acting.

"I consider my entire movie career a complete failure. I'll tell you why. The goal of moviemaking is to star in a film where your performance drives the film, and the film is either a soaring critical or commercial success, and I never had that," he says.

Sorry, Mr. Baldwin, but I must object, for your movie career is a remarkable one. You tangled with Beetlejuice himself. You gave life to such beloved characters as Jack Ryan and The Shadow. You fucked with Demi Moore in The Juror. You've made unforgettable cameos in movies like Notting Hill, and, to an extent of glory against which all subsequent cameos in the universe must now be measured, Glengarry Glen Ross. You created magic with Scorsese in The Aviator and The Departed. But you wanna talk about DRIVING a film, sir? You fucking REIGNED in The Edge, toe-to-toe with Sir Anthony Hopkins himself. Plus a bear. That movie soars, and it does so partly on your back.

And on the other end of the spectrum, we have The Cat in the Hat. An awful film. But you, sir, made it watchable. Which was perhaps your greatest feat of all.

Retire if you must, but do not trash a fine career in the process.