The Blog That Time Forgot

I watched Rachel Getting Married with my wife a few nights ago, and I have to say, that with the exception of a very few moments where I wasn't really feeling like Anne Hathaway had totally lost herself in her character yet, and one inexplicably long Wedding Reception/Dance scene, the movie was incredible. The movie has some surprises that it slowly unveils to the viewer, and in some ways, these revelations felt strangely relevant to me and my experiences, and were something I felt I could relate to. Other parts were less so, but all in all, this was a great, great movie, and I think I really want to see it again sometime soon, after my brain is done processing the first viewing. It gave a really fascinating family dynamic that is not often seen in big Hollywood, and there were some brutal examinations of what near-apocalyptic sibling rivalry can be like in the face of a lot of various personal traumas. Unflinchingly human, but in both the ugly and beautiful sense.



I also watched Land of the Lost a while back, and it could not be a more different film than the above, but smart and funny in its own ways, even though it's pretty much been universally panned by everyone, with a very few exceptions that I couldn't agree more with. This movie plays a lot like Harold and Kumar go to Jurassic Park with the Men in Black. It is a bizarre stoner-comedy/kid-show nostalgia mash-up, that obviously didn't work form the majority of the viewing audience. But I really, really had a good time watching this. I'm a huge Anna Friel fan, even though she isn't given much to do in this film except react to, and inspire, the actions of others. Danny McBride can sometimes be hit or miss with me, and this time around he definitely hit it, holding his own very well comedically with Will Ferrell. Of course, I also thought that Mr. Ferrell didn't put in the highest quality performance of his career here, so Mr. McBride didn't have a high benchmark to achieve, but still. The film made me laugh out loud more than once. It had the same hyper-real trippy feel to it that made H&K go to Whitecastle feel much smarter than it actualy was, and mixed with the trippy feel of the nostalgia of the old kid's show, I felt it really achieved an interesting blend of high concepts and pure stupidity that made for a derivative yet strangely unique experience. Not picture of the year, but a good, dumb-funny movie.



I'm also looking forward to reading "I'm Perfect, You're Doomed: Tales from a Jehovah's Witness Upbringing" by Kyria Abrahams, which my wife is currently reading. My wife was also raised in a Witness household, but left that way of life back when she started high school. As she reads this book she keeps telling me how the book is equal parts hilarious and an eerily exact description of her childhood. As someone outside that life, looking in, I don't think I'll get the same experience out of reading it, but I'll let you know what I think.

I've literally flooded myself with writing work as of late. I am starting a weekly column for a toy collecting web-site which I will officially announce when it comes out. I am just jumping back on board writing poetry for a lovely sculptress who is putting together a themed book of work. I have begun writing a comic book with an old friend of mine who will be the artist. I would love to get my macabre-poetry-for-mature-children project back up off the ground, but in order to do this I may need to seek out a new artist. We'll see. I'm thinking any illustrated works I collaborate on in the future will be digitally published, to help get my work out where it can be seen. I'll have to research this, as I am completely lost on how to go about beginning that process. I'm also considering the idea of going back to comic book review, or at least TPB/OGN reviews, since I don't buy single issues any more. But I'll need to find a site that gives a rat's ass about my opinion. I do love putting it out there though. Oh... and I'm blogging again. Not excellent blogging, but blogging nonetheless.

I'm hoping that if I force myself into doing as much writing work as I can, I can polish my craft and actually do something with it.

Don't Call it a Comeback. Really. (It ain't even that important.)

It has been very nearly three years since my last post on this blog, and so much has changed.

I'm much less cocky these days to begin with, and much less impressed with my own wit. My wife and I have not forgotten the miscarriage that I talked about below, but we have since put it behind us, and in December of 2008, my son was born, and now he's a toddler. So... we remember the past and are thankful for our present, and all wounds scar over with time.

It's funny, coming back to this blog after so many years. My voice has changed, my face and family have changed. My thoughts have changed. I get a genuine kick in going back over the thoughts I posted here so long ago. I hope they don't date me, or embarass me, or...

I don't really care. I love the me I used to be. I really do. We have to forgive our old selves their tresspasses. And as I write that, I realize it's really true. We really do. At some point you have to sit down with yourself and forgive some of the really bad decisions you made in the past.

But it's fun seeing the links I posted to, and seeing if they still link to what they're supposed to instead of some raunchy-yet-ill-named porn site. What I find even more hilarious than old, lapsed links to things I used to find relevant are the numerous apologies that pepper the blog, for starting and stopping things sporadically. It's as if I were being followed by a massive audience that hung on every word. Well, no more of that. If I blog, fine. If I don't fine. I'm doing it for myself anyway, as I type this into the void. It's mental vomit. A diary for-all-to-read... and hopefully a tool just to make me write and keep my sanity. But no more guilt.

In the last few years I've lost my grandmother, had a second child, watched my daughter grow into a nine year old, survived swine-flu, ... and not much else. I haven't achieved much. I am not where I imagined I would be thre long years ago when I dreamed of the future. I'm pretty much still right where I was back then, but thre years more old, three years more tired, three years more around my waist. But then there is my family, which has given me three more years of love and hope and wonder (and some of them haven't been around long enough to give me three years, but they are quickly catching up ahead of the game). I connected with my Dad for the first time in a very long time, which has been great. I talk to him and his awesome wife on Facebook, and I'm happy that he's with someone so incredibly cool, and that his kids, my half-siblings, seem to be too. I'm also trying to get myself writing again on a regular basis for the first time in... well a very long hiatus.

But enough wistful crap.

I watched Zombieland tonight and really liked it. There were a few pacing problems here and there, but there are some intensely excellent moments. Nobody seems to have worked out all the bugs yet for a completely perfect Zom/Com mash-up, not even the holy-of-all-holy, near-perfect Shaun of the Dead got it completely right with absolute zero hiccups. But Zombieland has tons going for it. The leads were all excellent, and the narrative style was spot on. I loved that whenever one of the rules of survival that have been invented by the lead character, Columbus, are observed throughout the film, we are treated to a visual reminder of said rule. The only really violently disctractive hiccup of the movie is the guest-celebrity-cameo-in-the-middle sequence, which could have maybe worked if played a little differently, but... it just ended up completely pulling me out of the film due to the timing, and the way the lead characters responded to said celebrity (I won't spoil the surprise of who it is, in case it still is one for you, as it was for me, and as much as I worship and adore the man, I was disappointed) and especially the celebrity's response to the situation at hand. It didn't mesh well with the rest of the film and felt like the whole thing was supposed to be some sort of extra-feature that accidentally got left in by mistake. But, save for that one really big nit-pick, I was in love with this movie. I will definitely be picking up a copy, and can't wait to rewatch it in the future to see how my opinions change.

That's it for tonight folks. I'm just impressed enough with myself that I even remembered how to get back into my blog account after all this time, and now this old 31-year-old needs his sleep. I'll check back in with you soon.

Hallowe'en On the Air

So Halloween makes its inevitable crawl back from the ether this year, clawing its way back into our lives much like an animated corpse clawing its way back to the world above its grave.

I am a deft and witty slinger of the similes.

I've been working on a series of new Halloween poems, not really knowing exactly what I can use them for, but writing them nonetheless. They would fit nicely into a collaboration with someone, as they were written specifically to go with someone else's art... but live and breathe all on their own without that art as well. I feel good that I'm creating poetry for my own sake right now, drawing inspiration mainly from the season, and my own ideas. It's refreshing.

I meant to write longer here, but my daughter is calling me away for a game of hangman, and I really can't resist that game this time of year... could you. I will try to come back for a post of some... purpose and scope next time I return.

Dealing with our Miscarriage

I've been avoiding this blog for a little while now.

This summer my wife and I suffered through the loss of a pregnancy, and I've felt a bit stunted creatively ever since. I think he tme has come to talk a bit about it, and maybe this will allow me to clear my head, clear my creativity a bit, as it were, and let go of this black balloon I've been holding onto since then.

We were really excited when we found out Jenn (my wife) was pregnant. We told a bunch of people after the first month, feeling like we were being silly, trying to hold out for that three month period (some say waiting until this point will prevent the pain of telling people should a miscarriage occur...) and that it almost 'jinxed' the pregnancy taking this kind of precaution. We wanted to be unadulteratedly happy about having a baby, and not paranoid that we'd have to take it back should something bad happen.

We told my family, and Jenn's family, friends and coworkers. We told our then-six-year-old daughter that she'd be getting a little brother or sister before the year was up. We reveled in the attention, and the premature gifts, and the feeling that we were expanding our family FOR SURE.

The three month period rolled around, and Jenn told me later that she was already a little bit worried. Nothing she could really put her finger on... occasional spotting, a few little cramps here and there... little things. And then one night, when these feelings hit their peak, she told me that she thought we ought to go to the hospital. We had called ahead, and were assured that everything was fine, that these kinds of doubts and feelings were a normal part of any pregnancy, and that if we wanted to make the late-night trip into the hospital just to hear the baby's heartbeat, that would be fine.

I was worried, but I told myself that I was being silly, and to hold onto hope, and that if anything WAS wrong, the doctors (actually midwives) would know what to do, and we'd either go home feeling silly, or glad that we'd acted so soon. I kept watching the clock through everything, calculating how tired I would be at work the next day, and the stories I would tell my co-workers. I just kept waiting for reality to snap back into focus, and for my doubts to dissipate like a burst balloon.

Except that the first nurse had a very hard time finding the baby's heartbeat. She tried for nearly an hour and kept giving us all the reasons why our baby couldn't be heard. The baby was hiding. The baby was just in the wrong part of the womb. She kept hearing phantom noises that even I, a casual observer with no medical experience knew could not possibly have been made by the baby inside my wife. We could hear Jenn's heartbeat fine. The Doppler was functioning perfectly. Still, they changed Dopplers three times. The first nurse gave up and told us she was too inexperienced. She got a senior nurse, who also tried for nearly an hour. My wife grimaced in pain and clenched my hand tighter and tighter as the nurse applied more and more pressure to the Doppler on her belly. Still, the excuses of why the baby was being so difficult came, as the nurse assured us everything was fine. I didn’t hate either of the nurses, I really didn't. They both tried so hard, and they both cared so much, but it became agony watching them as they paused each time, like a dog alert for sounds of prey nearby. There was some part of me that knew then. Knew they would not hear what was not there.

There was also the part of me that kept straining the same way, trying to hear that fast little whoosh-whoosh that signaled the tiny heartbeat of my family's newest member.

Finally, one of our Midwives were called in, and she did a full pelvic exam after trying the Doppler herself for almost another hour or so. It was around 1:00 in the morning when I stopped watching the clock and gave up the ghost that normal reality might put in an appearance.

The pelvic exam revealed that Jenn's cervix was slightly open. This worried the midwife, and prompted her to set up an ultra-sound. We had already had our first ultrasound about a month before. There had been a wiggling, wobbling peanut-shaped brine-shrimp on the screen that my wife and I had excitedly accepted as our new baby. We'd shown pictures of said brine-shrimp to our family, friends, co-workers, and then-six-year-old daughter.

This ultra-sound showed us a very different baby. As soon as the picture popped up on the screen, it was obvious to see that the baby had grown since its brine-shrimp days. One of the first thoughts to hit my mind was "How could it have been hiding?" And then we watched the screen and the truth sank in. A baby-shaped rag-doll lay at the bottom of the screen like someone had been playing with it and discarded it in a careless moment. It lay there, still and motionless.

It was then that I finally accepted that our baby had died. We thanked the ultra-sound technician, who had gotten up out of bed in the middle of the night to come help us. I think Jenn thanked her for that, and apologized for disturbing her. There was a sort of screaming noise in my head going on that happens when I get very very overwhelmed. I wasn't crying yet, but I think only because I was still too shocked.

A person I had never met before, who I had never even lain eyes on, because it was a person being built inside of my wife's body, had just died, and I didn't know how to process this information. A lot of stupid questions entered my head before the shock wore off. I asked myself how much right I had to be sad. Was this baby a real person yet? Was it something you justwalked away from? I didn't know the sex of the baby. I realized that I wanted to know very badly if we were having a son or a daughter. I wondered if people ever had funerals for miscarriages. Were they real people?

And then, we got back to the hospital room, and my mind shut up with all its stupid, stupid questions, and the agony hit both my wife and I, and we cried. We cried a very long time. We slept at the hospital that night, and to be honest with you, I have a hard time remembering much that happened after that. I remember calling my boss to let him know I would be out for a few days, and actually being embarassed that I was crying on the phone when I spoke to him.

On the way home from the hospital I stopped at Wal-Mart and bought two very large plastic bins. I was thinking about all the baby clothes and toys we had in our spare-room, and how quickly I wanted to box that stuff up so it wouldn't be there as a reminder. My wife realized what they were for and began crying again in full force. I felt like such a shit. I wasn't thinking clearly. Wasn't processing anything correctly. If I had been, I would have just waited. I will always hate myself for doing that.

We got home and Jenn began making a long list of painful phonecalls. She called as many people as she could, and then when she felt she was done, I finished up the rest for her. There were a lot of people she wanted to talk to directly, and the rest she just couldn't handle. But she wanted everyone to know so there would be less questions, less mistaken people asking her how her pregnancy was going.

I e-mailed our internet correspodent friends, and unsubscribed Jenn from as many of the new-mother e-mails that we'd subscribed to as I could. It was all business for a while. I did end up packing the baby things away into the bins as soon as I could. As much as I hate my lack of tact in retrospect, I am glad that Jenn didn't need to go through any of the baby things. She said it would have hurt her too much. The next few days were all a blur of tears and phonecalls to the doctor.

There was till a baby inside my wife's body, even if it wasn't moving anymore, and we needed to decide what Jenn's next step would be. Se opted to go through with a surgery (non-evasive, no-cutting) that would remove all of the "birthing materials" and speed up the process of "closure". Jenn coud have waited and tried to pass the materials naturally, but we both saw the inherent nightmare of this option... the waiting, being at home when it happened... neither of us could really wrap our minds around this and so with an incredibly kind group of people at the hospital, we finished the process that had so cruelly begun, and we were no longer having a baby anymore.

We learned that the baby ad actually diead about a week before that night spent in the hospital. We never found out why the baby died, and we never found out the sex of our baby. We boxed up all the papers and hospital bracelets, and labeleed a box "Sam" and we laid it to rest that way.

It's been a little while now, and there is more I want to say, and more I want to write... but I've gotten this far, and things have gotten better, somehow... and I was ready to share this much. And that's what I've done.

Of Blood and Flesh and Hide-and-Seek

So my daughter was a flower girl in my wife's Aunt's wedding today, which was an experience I shall not soon forget. I won't go into great depths about my feelings or relationships with a few people in my wife's family, but suffice it to say that today's festivities put a strain on my social abilities (which are not the most advanced at the best of times).

The high point of the day was when I realized that my daughter had received communion before it was too late to do anything about it. Apparently this is a tradition in Episcopalian weddings, and it was one that was not addressed clearly enough in the rehearsal for us to see it coming immediately. I knew it was happening at some point during the proceedings, but assumed that my wife or I would have the time and convenience to subtly pull our daughter aside and have her wait it out until the rest of the ceremony continued.

My wife and I, if you have not guessed, are not particularly religious. We don't go to church as my family, being Methodists, used to do in the past, or to a Kingdom Hall as some in my wife's family do, being Jehovah's Witnesses. My wife and I are not hard-lined atheists... but we are not Christian. I've dabbled in all sorts of alternatives in the past, but found I am not a particularly spiritual person... anyway. I'm not debating theologies here, just giving you a run-down.

Getting back to my story, we assumed an intervention would be allowed at some point before the sharing of blood and flesh with our daughter commenced. I found myself being asked by a member of the grooms family, "Is it okay if she goes up?" At which point (this was a particularly chaotic part of the wedding, I must remind you...) I saw that my daughter was already kneeling, and was in the process of receiving her communion wafer.

So there it was. Apparently my mother-in-law had tried to grab her before she followed the herd up to the front, but failed. I leaned over to my wife and asked "So is she Episcopalian now? " We then realised that in the program it clearly stated that only children of God who had been baptised as Christian could partake in communion. Would my daughter now be stoned as a heretic? Would we have to move to Canada? Would there be bricks through the window and taps on the phone?

My wife's main concern was physical rather than spiritual hygeine "They don't wash that cup," she informed me, as they continued passing the silver chalice down the line from one slobbering, jittering senior citizen to the next. I grimaced.

Religion has always been a fuzzy area in our family, I mentioned before that a large percentage of my wife's family are Witnesses. She was raised in this tradition, though she has long since moved away from any kind of religion, even though we practice Christmas, and Easter, as well as other Holidays (I am mostly ignorant of the Jehovah's Witness tradition, though I know at this point the only days of signifigance they seem to 'celebrate' in any way are their own wedding anniversaries and the yearly Passover. No birthdays, Christmases, Thanksgivings, Halloweens, Mother's Days, etc.). When I say we celebrate I mean mostly in the Santa-Claus-and-Easter-Bunny way. I haven't gone so far as to start referring to them as Krismas (denoting a Kris Kringle 'Krismas' vs. the Jesus Christ 'Christmas'), or Eostre (hearkening back to Easter's true pagan goddess roots, with the bunnies and eggs and fertility...) but I might as well. We're pretty paganistic or... materialistic I suppose would be the truth of it. Either one would have gotten us burned at the stake in Salem I'm guessing.

In the end, we decided not to care about the communion wafer and wine one way or the other. Personally, I don't believe in the practice, and if I don't believe in it, then it can't hurt anyone. So why worry? My daughter probably thought it was more fun than anything (she's just turning seven next Saturday, so she's not used to drinking a whole lot of wine... I hope.) and as long as nobody made a stink of it, Episcopalian, Witness, or Check Other Here... then I'm certainly not going to. What seems to tick off old Church Ladies even more than unbaptized children eating the flesh and blood of their savior is when they play hide-and-seek in the house of God during the wedding reception.

In my opinion... if God is who they say he is... I don't think he minds having happy children eating his crackers and playing in his house. But that's just me.

Back in the Saddle Again-Again

So I thought I'd start back with a few multi-media reviews, just to get my feet re-wet after being away from my blog for awhile.

I systematically fall in and out of reading my own thoughts in Blog-form, so bear with me. My family is currently in the middle of a flu-pandemic, and therefore I am at home from work tonight and tomorrow, and thought I would throw some stuff together here. It was in a discussion with my friend Tom that I said something like how amazing it was just how mind-numbingly boring it can be to go back and read the day-to-day thoughts I share here from time to time... and then I brought up David Sedaris, and mentioned that I wished my life in Blog read more like one of his books... and then I think I managed a fairly interesting idea, where since I am a poetic sort, I should start writing my life out in rhyme. Tom suggested iambic pentameter... but I suspect I lead more of a low-brow, dirty schoolyard lymeric type of life.

I shall give this idea some thought.

I recently watched 10 Items or Less with my wife, which stars Morgan Freeman (I picked this movie up solely because of this wise and wonderful man) and Paz Vega (remember her from Spanglish? Meh. I liked her more than anything else about that flick.) I can't get this movie out of my head! The first fifteen minutes or so dragged on a bit, and felt a little akward... but baby once it picks up speed, this movie is an undiscovered gem! Morgan Freeman has always been one of my absolute favorite men. He's got spirit, and energy that crackles off of him in any scene, and it feels like he's just toying with the other actors in any scene with him. This movie was no exception. From watching him stalk a near-somnambulant grocery store manager to seeing him lead a legion of car-wash attendants on a spry dance through their daily doldrums, to hearing him extol the virtues of buying socks at Target... the performance never falters once. He's a child in wolf's clothing, completely unflappable and charming in every interaction. He is the Morgan Freeman in "10 Items" (because he does in fact play Him) that I hope he is in real life. In this story he is studying at a grocery store to build a character he will be playing in an Indy film that heis having trouble commotting to fully. He meets Vega's character, a check-out girl at the 10 items or less counter, and immediately feels as if he's hit a characterization gold-mine. He resolves to follow her about her day, by hook or crook (I am never clear just how much he manipulates his way into her good graces, and how much he falls there by accident and sheer charm). The two characters go thrugh a checklist of seemingly mundane errands that by Freeman's mere presence, take on an almost magical quality. Paz Vega manages to keep up with his performance by building a character who is closed where Freeman is open, and cynical where Freeman's is boisterous and carefree. She is skeptical of the eldery actor's intentions, but plays her character with real heart, and it is a joy to see the two characters slowly open up to one another in more and more genuine ways over the course of the film (we get the feeling that Freeman really is just toying with her character at first... a manipulative Puck with entertainment on his mind. This feeling gradually changes.)An excellent, self-affirming film... even if they did flub the ending a bit awkwardly in the last five seconds or so. I plan to own this one.

Also obsesively listening to Modest Mouse's newest album "We Were Dead Before the Ship Even Sank". Now, I am not a well-spoken music critic... so I don't have a great deal to say that will come across as articulate to music-fans... but this album is great. I barely understand the lyrics, and when I do, they seem nonsensical at best... but listening to the loud raw, and soft lispery vocals coupled with some of the most compelling music I've heard in a while just goes even further towards cementing Modest Mouse as one of my all-time favorite bands. I first heard the single "Dashboard" playing over the stereo system at Newbury Comics in Portland, ME and then fnally broke bown and bought it at a Newbury Comics in Cambridge, MA (I also bought NIN's new album "Year Zero" there too, but I will talk about that one some other time).
There is not a single song on this album that I won't listen to. NOT ONE. That is incredibly rare for me. I almost always feel the need to pick through the few CDs that I buy, and choose the three or four songs that satisfy me, and never listen to the rest. But in the case of "WWDBTSES" I know I can listen to the enire album straight through without skipping a track. Isaac Brock is a genius, and the way several of the songs progress, you almost end up with songs within songs, making the listening experience that much more interesting. I don't think you're going to find a real solid radio single like the previous album had, but that has never mattered to me in the long run, as that all-important single is usually the one that starts to get on my nerves first after repeated listening of any album. Other noteworthy tracks include "Florida", "Fire It Up" and "Parting of the Sensory" but I can't stress enough how good a listening experience the entire album is.

So... that's it for me tonight. I may try to hop back on tomorrow with some less impersonal rantings, but for right now media reviews are all I can muster with the projectile vomiting going on in the background. So, goodnight all.

And Yet Again, Here He is Fumbling

Hey, wow. New Google Blogger. Exciting.

So, today, I discovered that I had made a mistake at work that will mot likely cost the company I work for around $300.00. This after feeling like I had had a pretty damn good week, during which my screw-ups were infinitesimal and my glories were small but encouraging. That happy, fuzzy, productive feeling went down in flames like a hang-glider on the Fourth of July.
I am beginning to think it is time to look for some other sort of job. I just don’t know. Sometimes I feel like I can’t make any sort of meaningful contribution to the sort of field I am currently working within. I’m spinning my wheels, digging in deeper and deeper, and not getting anywhere useful in the long-run scheme of my life. Maybe a job that doesn’t rely so vitally upon every tiny decision I may make costing the company money.

Ugh. Too much to think about right now.

I just don’t know what to think about my life, and my own role in it.

Also just recently found out that my cholesterol levels are near toxic, and for the last four weeks have been in the process of an entire lifestyle overhaul… not sure how I’m liking ti yet, but I will keep you posted. As a part of this overhaul I’m eating lots more fiber, lots less sugar, more grains and wheats, seriously reducing the gut-busting portions I used to eat at every meal, eating more foods with canola oils and omega 3 fatty acids, and have also replaced almost all dairy with soy. I’ve been able to handle most of these changes without complaint or much notice.

Yay me.

And while I’d like to feel proud of myself for making these changes, I seem to only see more changes that still need to be made. I don’t drink enough water. I don’t exercise. I don’t get enough sleep at night. I have too much stress in my life. I also don’t make enough time for myself to do the thing I enjoy. I mean productively. I waste way to much time not really doing anything, while staring at this all-mighty internet browser.

Grrr. Still, I have been slightly productive in the writing department. I have been working with the amazing Lisa Snellings on a few pretty exciting projects, not the least of which was a recent poem for her sculpture “Little Pink”. I had serious challenges to overcome in some of these endeavors, and I learned so much about what is I do in my writing. It was great. Lisa’s very cool to work with, an very patient, and she for the most part knows a few things about where she wants to get to when it comes to her work. This is refreshing and helpful when one wants to collaborate.

Also, my friend Tom Kurzanski’s career is sky-rocketing, so cool for him. His most recent achievements (that I know of first-hand) are a piece in Viper Comics new Sasquatch anthology, and the uber-cool Antigone Comic (brain-freeze currently prevents me from remembering who the publisher is, but look up ‘Antigone’ + “Kurzanksi’ and you’ll find it… I’m sure. Plus, he's got all kinds of really cool new still-secret stuff coming down the line sometime soon.
But enough about that bastard.

I'm gonna try to keep up with this frigging blog a little better. I say that a lot, you notice, and then months go by, and nothing gets written.

I'm a big fat lying liar.

Here's a link to a bog much better that mine. Warren Ellis's. But be warned: It is not work friendly.