Digital Filmmaking 101

If you want to get involved at VCC with our various video endeavors, my man Isaac Stambaugh is teaching a course called Digital Filmmaking 101. It starts this Wednesday and registration is filling up. So click the above link and sign up today. Here's a description.

The first step into joining the Vineyard's plunge into filmmaking. This course will introduce you to the production process, improve your entry-level skills, and get you ready (if you choose) to join the crew of our next digital feature film. If you're a student thinking about studying media at the collegiate level, this is a rare opportunity to get a head start through hands-on experience.

TigerPumpkins

Sorry Cincinnati, I love you, like a lot, but I hate your football team. Always have. I went last night to the pre-season game and noticed that there are a lot of positives (+) and negatives (-) about the Bengals. Here's a short list.

- The color scheme. Combining orange and black in fashion is like combining poison and pre-schoolers. They don't go together. They're toxic together. Those mothers that are mad about DD need to get mad about the Cincinnati TigerPumpkins. The uniforms and the inspired fashion disasters fans feel compelled to wear are a tragic crime against our retinas

+ If you're one of those weirdees who love Halloween then your beloved holiday comes around every Sunday. Lucky you. Break out the dry ice and jump out of coffins you freaks.

- Mike Brown. The guy bamboozles everyone. The city and NFL lets him run around doing whatever he wants cuz his grandpa (?) invented face masks. Letting Mike Brown run a football team would be like letting a poisoned pre-schooler be your shrimp boat captain.

+ Lots of cops earn lots of overtime. I imagine these cops have families. I bet these families like coney dogs. Overtime buys coney dogs. The Bengals are feeding cop families coney dogs. They're practically the Make-A-Wish Foundation.

- Bengals fans. They assault all five of your senses. 1. sight- see the above point about orange and black fashion. 2. hearing- they relentlessly scream inane things like Who Dey. 3. taste- i'm not sure how they offend this sense but they do. 4. touch- they spill beer on each other like it's part of the game. 5. smell- they reek of beer, menthol cigarettes, and goetta.

+ Each game the fans adopt Milwaukee as their sister city by buying/drinking enough Miller Lite to get 500 whales sloppy drunk.

- The parking lot trash cans the stadium get bombed by 500 million Miller Lite cans and throw up all over the sidewalks.

+ Entrepreneurial homeless men and women have the chance to turn a bag full of cans into $0.37.

- Grown men in face paint. Women wearing furry tiger tails from their jean skirts.

+ Chad Ochocinco. He's Cincinnati's Dennis Rodman sans the transgender leanings. Fans try to hate them but they wanna marry him.

- That one time a few years back when the TigerPumpkins made the playoffs. Fans turned into crazy people. It was like a bunch of blind people could finally see and they ran around talking like they've been watching sunsets for their whole life. Figure that metaphor out.

+ Lots of short buses have been recycled into PartyPumpkins. That's good on a number of levels.

- I saw one broke down on the highway as I drove to work today. It was like seeing a moustachioed-man in a Members Only jacket strolling the playground. There's a place where it's ok to be mustachioed and rocking exclusive windbreakers. A playground is not that place. Same with PartyPumpkins. They're pretty sweet when they're blasting Guns N' Roses and grilling sausages among other Pumpkins down by the stadium. But when they're all alone on the highway miles away from their friends, it's just sad. I want to say it's creepy in order to continue my metaphor, but that would be forced. Much like this entire post. Bottom line is I hate the Bengals.

Ole' School

Man, this brings back memories...

Release...

A pastor friend wrote me asking for creative ideas so I dug into the archives and foud a piece I wrote awhile ago. If you're in need of a meditative moment and you struggle with some level of perfectionism- give this a try. Listen to the song as you slowly read the text. Maybe something'll happen. Maybe not. Either way it's a pretty decent song.



Release...
take a deep breath in...
and release...
feels good doesn't it?
try closing your eyes for a few seconds and just listen to the piano...

what if we let go?
...stopped trying to be perfect
...stopped chasing something that doesn't exist.
because the truth is...
we will never look "perfect"
our job will never be "perfect"
our friends and family will never act "perfectly"
what does that even mean? "perfect"...?
the perfect house,
spouse,
kids,
life...
they don't exist.
relationships are not perfect...
we know that in theory...
yet we want them to be…
and we get frustrated when they aren't.
we hold grudges for others' imperfections...
for their mistakes.
we carry with us disappointments...
we hold onto the let downs caused by imperfections.
we carry regret...
for not being the perfect friend
for being the imperfect spouse
for demanding from our kids what we can't provide...
perfection.
we carry guilt...
for our imperfect faith...
our imperfect past...
what if you let the regret go...
release...
take a deep breath in...
and release...
God doesn't want your perfection...
He doesn't demand what you cannot give.
He just wants your faith...
your trust...
your belief that Jesus' sacrifice makes you perfect.
perfectly broken...
perfectly human...
perfectly forgiven...
perfectly loved...
by the only One who provides what we all desire...
...Perfection.

Chicken Tetrazzini

Bear Nap

Bear shaped sleeping bag. A must have for sleeping in bear-infested woods. They're horrible monsters, but bears have great respect for sleepytimes and refuse to interrupt a good bear nap. I hear. If you try it let me know how it works out.

Billy and the Kid

Hey there Kiddy Widdy.

What'd ju say?

What's the word, Rocky Socky?

Say man. Are you retarded or something?

Drinking a little Coorsy Woorsy?

Hey, Kentucky Waterfall. Quit talking like such a gay queer.

Ok.

Thank you. Dang, man. I was about to stab your redneck with this silver bullet.

Oucy wouchy.

My name is KIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIID ROCK.

This Is Norway

She's Just A Girl...

MIKE:
I told you not to call me here.

B. JEAN:
You said don't call you at home.

MIKE:
I am home!

B. JEAN:
You're at a hotel in Brazil.

MIKE:
Berlin.

B. JEAN:
Same thing.

MIKE:
How did you get this number any how?

B. JEAN:
Why are you being so mean to me?

MIKE:
I'm not being mean. I'm asking how you got this number.

B. JEAN:
Is there some one else?

MIKE:
What are you talking about?

B. JEAN:
Are you in love with someone else?

MIKE:
I'm done talking to you. Please stop calling me.

B. JEAN:
So there is someone.

MIKE:
I'm calling the police. You're insane.

B. JEAN:
Am I?

MIKE:
Clearly.

B. JEAN:
Or am I pregnant?

MIKE:
Goodbye forever, psycho.

B. JEAN:
You didn't answer me.

MIKE:
See you never.

B. JEAN:
I'm pregnant. The answer is I'm pregnant.

MIKE:
That's unfortunate. I'm hanging up now...

B. JEAN:
It's yours. I have a tiny baby in me that is half yours.

MIKE:
Do you know how babies are made, Billy? Did you stay in school long enough to learn that?

B. JEAN:
I'm going to name him Prince Michael.

MIKE:
First of all, that's the dumbest thing I've ever heard. Second, we never had sex you freak.

B. JEAN:
We're lovers.

MIKE:
We are not lovers.

B. JEAN:
Lovebirds?

MIKE:
Nope.

B. JEAN:
Tell that to Prince Michael.

MIKE:
You need to get help.

B. JEAN:
Help me.

MIKE:
Goodbye, Billy. If you call me again I will have you arrested.

B. JEAN:
You're bad. You're a bad bad man.

MIKE:
(click)

Talking w/ Paul

PIANO MAN:
Paul, it's been awhile.

PAUL:
Yeah. How have you been?

PIANO MAN:
Good. Busy. I think I've played out every night this month but one.

PAUL:
That's great. I am so busy too. So busy.

PIANO MAN:
Good. Busy bird gets the worm, right?

PAUL:
I think it's early bird gets the worm.

PIANO MAN:
I know. I was making a joke.

PAUL:
Oh. So yeah, pretty much all I do is work. Work work work.

PIANO MAN:
Sold any doozies lately?

PAUL:
No. I'm still shopping it around.

PIANO MAN:
Oh... Is the market good or bad these days? I don't pay attention.

PAUL:
I mean, like always, it's hard for first time authors.

PIANO MAN:
Realtors.

PAUL:
I'm sorry?

PIANO MAN:
You accidentally said author.

PAUL:
That's what I said.

PIANO MAN:
Realtor?

PAUL:
Author.

PIANO MAN:
....

PAUL:
....

PIANO MAN:
Who's on first?

PAUL:
What?

PIANO MAN:
Never mind. Paul, unless I'm going crazy, I swear you've been in real estate for as long as I've known you.

PAUL:
Real estate just pays the bills. I'm a writer. Well, a novelist, I should say.

PIANO MAN:
I had no idea.

PAUL:
I just finished my first.

PIANO MAN:
Congrats.

PAUL:
Thanks. Yeah, so I'm in the process of sending query letters right now.

PIANO MAN:
I see.

PAUL:
I send at least ten a night to publishers, other novelists who may know publishers, rich people that my parents know who may want to get into publishing.

PIANO MAN:
Is that...how it works?

PAUL:
Like I said, it's tough for unpublished authors. But I figure I got a great back story, you know? Realtor by day, author by night. That's the kind of crap Barbara Walters eats up.

PIANO MAN:
Is it?

PAUL:
I think.

PIANO MAN:
Hmmmm.

PAUL:
You've seen her, right?

PIANO MAN:
Yeah...

PAUL:
20/20.

PIANO MAN:
Yeah. I've seen it.

PAUL:
Great show.

PIANO MAN:
I don't.....really...

PAUL:
I'm gonna go say hi to Davey.

PIANO MAN:
I'll see you around, Paul. Good luck with the letters.

PAUL:
Thanks, Bill.