The Colonel T Show

I’m a few days late on this, but I wanted to say a few words about George “Sulu” Takei’s coming out as a homosexual. I think it’s fantastic, and I’m happy for him, and to hear more, click the “Play this audio post” link below.

Some assorted goodies from The Colonel T Files…

– We had Ultrasound Number Two today. The photos are terrible, but the video is hilarious. The photos are terrible because “Baby A” was dancing the entire time, and “Baby 1″ was shaking its butt at the camera. So, the stills are quite blurry. My theory: The younglings totally knew they were getting their pictures taken, and decided to put on a show. Even at a mere 15 weeks of fetushood, the twins have 1) Displayed extraordinary showbiz chops and 2) Proven beyond a shadow of a doubt that they are, in fact, my children.

– I’d like to give a shout-out to my younger sister-in-law. She spent last Wednesday cleaning our basement, which included the unenviable task of breaking down about 60 boxes, and sorting all our dirty laundry. She did this out of the goodness of her heart, and also under orders from her mother. Something about helping Elizabeth prepare for the babies. (I’m apparently not qualified for this work? I don’t know. Feh, family politics. )

That she did the work is fantastic, and I’m certainly grateful, but that’s not what the shout-out is for. While she was here, she manipulated our DVR to perform an act of comedy genius I had no idea she was capable of. She stealthily added “Freddie” to our series recording list. We realized it when we were reviewing our recorded programs, and saw, well, “Freddie” sitting there…taunting us…daring us to watch it…daring us to suffer.

– “Colonel T Show” update: Technical trauma strikes! Until I pick up a new box, I’m doing the entire podcast on a four-year-old laptop. I’ve got everything figured out with the exception of Skype recording. (Skype is the VoIP program I’m using for interviews.) I can record my voice with striking clarity, but not the voice of whomever I’m talking to. This makes for literally one-sided interview segments — hilarious, yes, but not exactly the effect I’m going for. I’ll figure it out eventually, but anyone with experience doing this on a single PC…please offer advice. Google is failing me.

– Meanwhile, I’m still reviewing audition samples for the role of “Female Announcer”. I’ve gotten 12 (twelve) files so far, and every one of them has been great. I won’t be picking the winner until sometime next week , so auditioneers, please hang in there — and if you’ve been hemhawing about sending in a sample, there’s still time. Do it now! coloneltshow@gmail.com

– I need to get a GOOD winter coat. Apparently Winter is really happening this year.

– Finally, I’m looking for book recommendations again. Something non-fiction this time, indeed, let’s go historical…maybe early American history…but no Presidental biographies, please. Hit me with your recommendations in the comments section.

There’s a great fun to be had over at Altavista! Babelfish is a translation tool for converting English to Spanish, German to French, Korean to Mayan, etc. I use it occasionally at work, but why do work when you can screw around?

Out of sheer curiosity, I typed in the first few lines of the chorus to the 1980’s Stan Bush power ballad “The Touch”, most recently mangled by Mark Wahlberg’s Dirk Diggler in Boogie Nights but perhaps best known as the first track off the Transformers the Movie soundtrack.
The chorus goes like this:

You’ve got the touch!
You’ve got the power!
When all Hell’s breaking loose, you’ll be right in the eye of the storm!
You’ve got the heart!
You’ve got emotion!
You know that when things get too tough, you’ve got the touch!

Here are the same lyrics in Spanish, per “Babelfish”:

¡Usted tiene el tacto!
¡Usted tiene la energía!
¡Cuando todo el infierno que se rompe flojamente, usted correcto en el ojo de la tormenta!
¡Usted tiene el corazón!
¡Usted tiene la emoción!
¡Usted sabe que cuando las cosas consiguen demasiado resistentes, usted tiene el tacto!

I thought to myself “Hmm…I wonder how accurate Babelfish really is? I copied and pasted the Spanish lyrics back into the translator, and chose the “Spanish to English” option. Here, my friends, is where the comedy train gets rolling — the “re-English-ised” chorus of “The Touch:”

You have the tact!
You have the energy!
When all the hell that is broken loosely, correct you in the eye of the storm!
You have the heart!
You have the emotion!
You know that when the things obtain too resistant, you have the tact!

Brilliant! I truly believe that “You have the tact!” has a chance to become a national catchphrase, at least among the geek community. If someone with screen printing powers cares to whip me up a custom “You have the tact!” t-shirt, I’ll gladly reimburse you and plug whatever you want. This could be bigger than “Yeah, Baby!” and “Don’t go there!” and “Talk to the hand!” combined.

Meanwhile, why don’t you give YOUR favorite song the “Spanish and Back Again” treatment, and see what you can come up with. Feel free to post your findings in the comments section.

That’s about the only word that properly describes my participation in the 1^st Annual Pokerstars Blogger Championship and Weekend Timewaster. I had grand visions of facing off against fellow celebrity blogger and Pokerstar Wil Wheaton, trading barbs and sharing tales of teenage acne. As is all too often true, the reality just didn’t match the fantasy.

I live-blogged the event – a first for this site – so sit back, relax, and prepare to reach for a magazine or something, because this isn’t interesting at all! Woo-hooooooo! Yeah, baby!

2:55 PM. I’m settled in and ready for cards. I’ll be playing on the living room couch, with pretzels on my right side and Diet Pepsi on my, well, also on my right side. To my left is an armrest. There will be 5-minute breaks every hour. It looks like there are 1473 competitors…I wonder how many of them actually remembered to show up? 100? More? These “ghost” players will just be blinded off. What could they possibly have to do that’s more important than playing poker with bloggers and Wesley Crusher? Tax season isn’t until April…it’s too early for strip clubs…I’m stumped.

2:57. Quick aside: With 1:54 left to play in the game, the Cleveland Browns are down three points to the Detroit Lions. God bless the ESPN Gamecast.

2:58. Oooh! We’re being seated. I’m at table 74. OK, this is an awesome sign: Sitting to my left is a player called “PeterJenning” and his avatar is, appropriately, the head of Peter Jennings. What’s great about that? Every day for about two months after Peter Jennings died, I would ask my lovely wife Elizabeth if she’d heard that Peter Jennings died. It was an ironic commentary to the overabundant media coverage. It’s even funnier now that I’ve explained it, isn’t it?

2:59. Time to go on a Wheaton hunt! What table is he at?

3:00. Cards have hit the felt. I’m in the big blind, and I’ve been dealt an A-4 offsuit. I fold to a Latina avatar’s $130 raise. She kind of looks like Jennifer Lopez. Or maybe the lady from Flashdance. Anyway, she scared the table into folding. I tear the sleeves off my oversized sweatshirt and pour a bottled water over my head. By the way, there are four people sitting out, so the table is effectively five-handed. Dang, there could be hundreds of no-shows…

3:02. Wheaton found! He’s at table 149. Meanwhile, I look at the overall standings, and holy moly! 10 people have already been eliminated! Back at my table, PeterJenning just got a full house. Hey, I think the picture of Peter Jennings he used is the one from his “Dear America, I Have Cancer” speech. Charming.

3:05. I’ve got Wil Wheaton’s table open in a separate window. Hey wait! He’s sitting out! I feel betrayed, like when Wesley was part of that Starfleet Academy flight group cover-up. Nova Squadron looks out for its own! Rarrrrrarrh! Hopefully he’s just tardy. I’ve built up our showdown so much in my mind. I have to stay positive. I have an iPod Nano to win. I guess that would be okay.

3:10. Woot! I win my first pot, with a 10-5 offsuit. Impressive, huh? I was bluffing, yo! I played y’all! Wicked awesome! (FYI, we all started with $2000 chips; I’m down to $1990.)

3:12. The word from Wil’s table is that he’s not going to be in the game at all. Well darn it all. That’s a serious bummer. And I’ve got 48 minutes before I can get to the kitchen for some soothing tequila. If only the kitchen wasn’t 15 feet away! BLAST IT ALL! Blast architects in the seventies! With your perms and your non-mechanical pencils and your apples that you rub on your sweaters to…to…WHY DID PEOPLE IN THE SEVENTIES RUB APPLES ON THEIR SWEATERS, THEN LOOK AT THEM, THEN RUB THEM ON THEIR SWEATERS SOME MORE, THEN LOOK AT THEM AGAIN?!?!

3:14. According to the ESPN Gamecast, the Browns have lost. The Dilfer threw 10 of 19 for 73 yards, with three interceptions. And we got beat by former Browns legend Jeff Garcia. Ah, justice, you are so bitter.

3:16. Hey look, Wil’s made it after all! I am reborn! Filled with wonder, as when the world was new. Hey, I got my hair cut on Saturday. I decided to take it short. When I described what I wanted to my stylist, she grabbed a book filled with pictures of male celebrity heads. She pointed to the guy from “Alias.” I pretended not to know who he was, thinking she’d be really impressed at my pop culture ignorance – you know, because that implies I must really be into books or farming or wine or something. (Wow, guys are idiots, and we never stop being idiots, do we?) Anyway, I totally look like the guy from “Alias” now, so if you see that guy on the street, there’s a 50% chance it’s me.

3:20. I take my second pot. I’m back up to $1915. Not every entry will contain a joke. Deal.

3:23. There must be 40 or 50 “observers” (read: Internet nerds) at Wil’s table. They are attempting to make small talk with him. “Hey Wil, how are your stepkids doing?” “Hey, Wil, I really enjoyed your early stage work.” Stuff like that. If I get to his table, I’ve decided I’m going to ask him “Hey Wil, what are you benching these days?” That’ll show those Internet nerds how it’s done.

3:29. PeterJenning, the poker player, like Peter Jennings, the man, is gone. He went all-in with Queens, and he got called by a guy with Kings. The Kings held It’s just like that time Dan Rather’s plane famously beat Peter Jenning’s plane to Kuwait by 12 hours back in the ‘90’s, only not in any way like that at all.

3:30. Well, we’ve reached the 30 minute mark. Blinds are now 25/50. I’ve got $1840. I’ve still only won two pots. I’ve enjoyed crappy, crappy cards for days now, and the trend is continuing here. I’m hesitant to call or raise anything. It’s a mental block of sorts. Let’s look at these two cards together, shall wee? Oooh! A 6-5 offsuit. Yay. Fold. How’s my good friend Wil Wheaton doing? $1865. Huh. Brothers in chip counts, brothers in oily skin.

3:37. See? Here’s what I’m talking about: I’ve got J-9 offsuit, and the flop comes up 5-5-9, two spades. I’ve got two pair. (Two pair is good.)The turn is a 10 of spades. The guy behind me raises, and I fold. Like a weenie. I was scared of the flush. But guess what came on the river? The nine of hearts. Essentially, I folded the nuts. The odds were right for me to call, but something in the back of my head is freaking me out. Fear of going out early, I guess. It sucks.

3:57. Some cat at my table named “d’Amphoux” just knocked out someone at the table with a sweet four-of-a-kind, Queens. What I wouldn’t give for three queens. Instead, I’ve got $1240 and I haven’t played a hand in a good 30 minutes. It’s getting down to it, here. This uber-conservative strategy just isn’t working. By the way, after three really great opening episodes, “Lost” has really been awful the last couple of weeks.

4:00. First break! It’s time for booze!!!! I’m ranked 926 out of 1061. That’s awful, but booze is awful goooooood. I’m just going to have to throw in all my chips and hope I can double up. Wil’s got 990 chips, so he must be ranked just slightly lower than me. We’re both at our original tables, and after an hour of play, I have to think we’re both about to get moved Moved together, perhaps? Only if the fates are smiling down on us! Hail the fates! Hail the fates! (That’s the booze typing, by the way. Like it?)

4:09. You know, at some point all of the ghost players are going to get blinded off, and we’ll all get bumped up several hundred places. That’s got to be coming up soon.

4:12. Aaaaaaaaand we’re officially down to less than 1,000 players left. What’s incredibly sad about all this is that I could have not played at all – just sat out — and I’d have more chips than I have right now. OK, I’m exaggerating, but only barely. Back to “Lost” for a second – what was the deal with the guy from “Oz” running off, with the Korean guy and the other guy from “Oz” going after him, and then they find him, and the Korean guy is all “You find Walt” and then the guy from “Oz” (the first guy, now) just kind of says “Cool” and then follows them back? What was the point of all that? How was that entertaining?

4:16. Wil just doubled up – four aces. WOW. I’d say he laid down THE CRUSHER. (Speaking of “The Crusher,” let’s all take a second and say “Beverly” in a Jean-Luc Picard voice. Go ahead. “Beverly.” If enough of us do it at the same time, it’ll make the evening news.)

4:17. I just went All-In with a pair of twos, and everyone folded. That brings me back up to $1040. That’s should keep me alive for another round of betting.

4:19. Again, All-In with a pair of sevens, everyone folded. Up to $1265. Can you smell what the Colonel is…no, just…no.

4:26. It took much longer than I thought it would, but finally my table was broken up (I also just jumped about 100 places instantly…the ghosts are almost all gone now.) My new table is Wheatonless, and instead features the chip leader. He’s got over $20000, so my $965 will hardly scare him or anyone else when I try to double up. I’m a fly, he’s The Hulk.

4:31. Annnnnnnnnnnd scene. The party’s over. I went All-In with A-7 suited, and got called by a guy with J-9. The board came up 9-10-10, followed by an 8, and I couldn’t make my straight or pull an ace on the river. I’ve finished in 639^th place. So ends my tournament, and so ends Wheaton-Quest 2005. He’s still in and doing well with $3810, by the way. I wish him well. I’m going to drink. Oh, wait, I already am! Wheeeeeeee!

ADDENDUM

4:58. ‘Twas at this time that Wil Wheaton was knocked out, in 328^th place. No iPods or trips to the Carribean for either of us, this day.

Elizabeth and I ran some numbers yesterday, and they didn’t look good.

When the twins arrive, we estimate we will be changing 25 diapers a day. While we plan to have the younglings potty-trained within a few months (no pressure kids, but seriously, you’ve got like four months), we’re still looking at a serious dent in the pocketbook.

So where do desperate Americans go when then need to buy a lot of something, really cheap? That’s right, Sam’s Club! I’d never been there before, and all I have to say is “Great Shades of Elvis!” We were there five minutes and I couldn’t sign up fast enough. It’s glutton heaven. This place is a microcosm of everything that’s great and awful about America.

Man-oh-man, the diapers are a killer deal. And that’s just the tip of the iceberg. Here are five other items which caught my fancy:

1) Trampolines. I’m not sure what kind of person needs to buy 18-feet-in-diameter trampolines in bulk, but at $179.99 a pop, I’m seriously considering it. Time to start that neighborhood circus!

2) Tequila. I guess because Sam’s Club has a membership fee, they can sell anything they want. (That would explain the Taiwanese “massage girls” tagged and caged in the “Customer Service” section.) There are racks and racks and RACKS of hard liquor – the good stuff too, like 1800 and Sauza and Beefeater. Right next to that: palettes stacked high with cases of beer – the good stuff too, like Budweiser Select and Schlitz Malt Liquor. But the best find were the pre-made Jose Cuervo margarita jugs, normally $14 in the grocery store – under ten bucks at Sam’s. Alcoholism is totally justified when it’s fueled by bargain prices.

3) Beethoven: The Complete Film Series DVD Collection. Did you know they made FIVE Beethoven movies? I had no idea. It’s hard to believe families just kept passing off that filthy mutt-beast. I can’t imagine no one ever “accidentally” dumped him over the side of a schooner or something. Regardless, I can now re-experience the entire Beethoven mythology in one sitting, all for the budget price of $19.95. (By the way, here’s an awesome idea for a SIXTH Beethoven movie: Bring back all the stars from the first five Beethoven movies: Charles Grodin, Judge Reinhold, John Larroquette — hey, who else is shocked that Steven Gutenburg isn’t in this list — anyway, bring back all those guys, have them form some kind of Anti-Beethoven Defense League, call the movie Beethoven: Generations and back up the Brinks truck to my garage.

4) Stacks and stacks of 80 pound bags of white rice. I don’t really have a joke here, but shouldn’t these be on a plane to Somalia?

5) Tires. This particular Sam’s Club has approximately 435,000 tires on 12,000 racks right at the entrance. The overwhelming smell of rubber is simultaneously nauseating and intoxicating. Should you ever need to buy tires for, say, the entire population of your state, Sam’s Club is the place for you!

God bless you Sam, wherever you are. You’ve got two new customers tonight, and one of those two customers is so drunk on your bargain priced margaritas he thinks you used to moonlight in the White House Press Corps.

I’m looking for anyone with a great set of broadcasting pipes to do some quick voiceover work for me; intros, outros, previously on’s, next time on’s — that sort of thing. Normally, I’d do it myself, but since I’m also hosting The Colonel T Show, I figure it’d be a conflict of interest.

It’ll be a one-time thing (to start), and you won’t be paid, but your voice will be heard on every episode of what will soon be the World’s Most Ignored Podcast Ever ™.

Shoot me an email at coloneltshow@gmail.com if you think you’ve got the chops.

Two posts down from this one, you’ll see a blatant bit of advertising for the Pokerstars Blogger Championship. It’s a free tournament just for, well, bloggers. My initial reaction to that was “Gee, that’s random.” Why not a tournament for shark hunters? Or Motorola executives? Or ex-Riverdance performers? Then I realized that in order to register for the tourney I had to post that garish bit of promotion. Brilliant minds, those gambling honchos.

As a member of Pokerstars, and a blogger, I’m obligated to participate. I think I can win an iPod or cash or Olive Garden gift certificates or something. But here’s the cool part: Do you know who else is a blogger and a Pokerstars member? Wesley Crusher himself, Mr. Wil Wheaton! In the years since he left Star Trek: The Next Generation, Wil has become a premiere, if not THE premiere, celebrity blogger. He and I are both signed up for this tournament, which leads to the following question:

IF WIL WHEATON AND I ARE SEATED AT THE SAME TABLE IN THE BLOGGER POKERSTARS TOURNAMENT, WHAT QUESTIONS WOULD YOU LIKE ME TO ASK HIM?

Leave your questions in the comments section. Keep in mind we have to be respectful, as he can set me on IGNORE if I get too rambunctious or obnoxious. But if you’ve got a legitimate question, I’ll ask it.

Let me be the live conduit to Wil Wheaton that you’ve always dreamt of having!

Dear Fetuses:

What’s happening, my genderless younglings? As of this writing, you’re nearly four months into fetus-hood. Are you digging it? How’s the atmosphere? The food? Fortunately, you have each other for entertainment. It’s hard to believe you are both just over lime-sized right now, and yet you have spines, and hearts, and soon you’ll have ears and the beginnings of what undoubtedly will be full, lustrous hair. I want you to know how excited and overwhelmed with joy we are anticipating you arrival. We love you very much, babies, and not just because you have been supporting us financially since your 21st birthdays.

In all seriousness, I’ve spent the last three weeks not updating this blog because I wanted the first thing I publish about the two of you to be staggeringly brilliant, and I officially give up. There are no words…NO words to describe what your mother and I are feeling. You’ll just have to trust me on that. In fact, I’ve spent an hour on this paragraph alone. It was well worth it, wasn’t it?

And so, in an effort to relieve myself of this offspring-inspired writer’s block, I’m going to post this post now, and start fresh tomorrow. Go back to sleep — just knock on the womb if you need anything.

Cheers,
Dad