How About a Nice Game of Chess?

So we watched War Games tonight, because the boof had never seen it (he claims that it came out during his "art fag" phase when he only saw movies with subtitles) and because it's one of my favorite movies ever. It's also possibly very much responsible for the deep-seated (did you know it's deep-seated, not deep-seeded? it's kindasorta like the "all intensive purposes / all intents and purposes" thingummy) sense of anxiety I have about nuclear war and mutually assured destruction (the only way to win is not to play).

And then I realized: kerrang! It's not just me! It must be an entire generation of late 70s / 80s kids who had a really blissful childhood, free from duck-and-cover drills and hiding under one's desk -- we knew the Russians were bad but we didn't have to deal with that every day. And then, whomp, here comes War Games and suddenly we totally understand the rules of warfare have changed and that if there ever is a World War III it means we're all gonna die. Thanks a lot, War Games. Thanks for breaching that cold, hard gap between innocent childhood and Paxil-requiring adolescence. (Note to readers: I do not take Paxil, I just love that there's an anti-anxiety product called PAXil. I can't wait til someone comes out with SHALOMee).

BUT! In lighter news: let us salute Dr. Falken. What a hunky specimen of super genius.


Back in 01 when there's was lots of talk about Dr. Dean Kamen, and his life-changing invention called, alternatively, "Ginger," or "IT" or the "Kamen Machine" or whatever, (and then, was somewhat disappointing when we learned it was the life-changing, uh, Segway, ) I totally started fantasy-crushing on Dr. Kamen because I knew he lived on a remote island ( North Dumpling Island -- which he fracking OWNS) and I thought maybe he would greet high school visitors by flying a pterodactyl over their heads, and boy oh boy did I want to go visit.