A Twitter Study for My Thesis (or "How You Can Win a $25 Gift Card to Best Buy")

Today's post is a very special one.  It's special because, when it's all said and done, this post will help me graduate with my Master of Performing Arts Management degree, and it's also special because, just by reading it, you could win a $25 Best Buy gift card!  If you're lucky!  Or if you bribe me with $50.  Which wouldn't make sense, but please feel free to do so anyway.

I'm currently writing my graduate thesis on best practices and strategies for Twitter as a marketing tool for non-profit performing arts organizations (because there's nothing quite like being specific!).  In order to do that, I need as many Twitter users as possible to take the survey I've created.  There are 17 questions, and quite frankly, they're probably the most fun survey questions you'll ever encounter.  I don't promise it, but I feel it. In my heart of hearts.

Furthermore, everyone who takes the survey can register for a chance to win that Best Buy gift card.  Please take the survey, and tell your friends who use Twitter to take it as well.  I need at least 700 responses to make the data statistically pertinent!

Thank you so much for your help!  Click Here to take survey

Really, Twilight? Really?

The fact that the second Twilight flick is being released this weekend reminded me; I hate Twilight. I don't even know how I made it through the first book. I must have blacked out until the end. The uninspiring, complete disappointment, "Guess I shouldn't be too surprised after reading the rest of this stupid book" ending. I hate it so much that I'm not even going to finish this blog post I'm writing about it.

Here are some of my major problems with this series. And by "series" I mean "first book." Because I didn't read the series.

1. Vampires do not have souls. How could a vampire love? He's a vampire! A blood-sucking, life-taking, demon-infested vampire! Last I checked, creatures of the devil have little time for snowball fights and giggles. They're evil, not sad. (Note: the only exception to this rule comes from Buffy the Vampire Slayer, in which the restoration of a vampire soul is a horrible, incredibly painful exercise. You want that soul? You gotta earn it, friend. With your blood. And your fifty-ton guilt.)


2. Vampires do not like women who are accident prone. They have enough problems on their hands; watching out for sunlight, finding enough blood, running from angry mobs, avoiding things made out of wood. Do you have any idea how much vampires hate having to buy nothing but Playskool children's furniture?! It sucks! (Ha.) They have a lot going on, and they do not have time to make sure little Bella doesn't accidentally fall down a rocky cliff and bash her face out against a cast metal statue of goat that's on fire. Mortal people don't have time for this nonsense, and the worst thing most of us have to worry about is leg cramps.

2. Vampires do not go into the sunlight. This is a fundamental rule. You just crashed right through every interesting storyline challenge, and therefore every engaging conflict and resolution as well, Stephanie Meyer, you sappy hack. Which brings me to my next point.


3. Vampires do not sparkle. My Little Ponies sparkle, and even then, only those who are the pinnacle of the especially effeminate breed have the gall to do it. Vampires only do three things; they grow fangs, they drink blood, and they brood. They do not sparkle.

4. Bella is so annoying. This has nothing to do with vampires. But still. Good Lord.

5. Vampires do not play vampire baseball. The only sport they play is "Kick the Head When it Comes Off the Spike We Put it On Last Night During Our Hell-Raising Blood Bender." Do you see Angel or Bill Compton rushing right out in sweat pants and wicking jerseys to go bat around a ball? No! They're too busy killing things!  This is all so

Drawn to the Dark

If you know me, then you're probably shocked (and perhaps dismayed) that I've made it this long without writing a single post about Batman on this blog. This was a conscious decision bred of my desire to blossom like the beautiful, yet tastefully understated African lotus, to spread my wispy willow branches in the winds of nerdiness and tickle the charged air molecules of other topics, robots, vampires, killer Communist-alien cell phones, and the like. I would stray away from the obvious exercising of the Batman obsession.

It was a plan doomed for failure. And fail it has. The masked vigilante can wait no more, and he's waiting no more with a vengeance. So today I introduce Batman Friday, a very special day of the week that often falls between Thursday and Saturday and celebrates the glory of the Dark Knight. This may or may not be a weekly feature, depending on my laziness and/or boredom. Fair warning. Also, Batman may not want to be contained by Fridays. Because the B stands for "Bad," A stands for "Ass," and T-M-A-N stands for "I don't need a full acronym because I'm the [expletive deleted] Batman."

For the first Batman Friday, I've decided to make a list of my top 5 favorite Batman comic artists. These are the artists that I think best capture the spirit of the character in the most aesthetically pleasing ways. If you disagree with them, I'll hit you.

5: Frank Quietly

Okay, remember when I said I was choosing these artists based on the degree of spirit capture and aesthetic value? That was a lie. Frank Quietly doesn't do that. I mean, look at the picture. His drawing style makes Batman's head look like a soft ham. But I inexplicably love Quietly's wavy, often feathered outlines, probably because they make Batman look like the Stay Puft Man in tights. He clawed his way onto this list due to my vast amusement at Potato Lump Body Batman. Also, he gets points for making Robin look perpetually surprised and apathetic, all at the same time.

4: Tony Daniel

Tony Daniel is a new favorite, ever since his recent work on the variant covers of the Grant Morrison "Batman R.I.P." storyline. I love that his drawings have clean lines, yet he manages to make the Knight look rough-and-tumble scuffed, but my favorite part about his style is that he likes to draw Batman with teeth bared. Teeth-baring Batman is the Malibu Barbie of the DC universe. But better. He also gets extra credit points for being a writer as well as an artist, and he's currently pulling double duty on the Batman book.

And man, the guy can draw a cape.

3: Tim Sale

Tim is one of the few artists whose work I love across the board, no matter what the character. Quietly and Daniel each do a fantastic Batman, but the rest of their work doesn't really stand out for me, but I've never met a Sale drawing I didn't like. He has a style that looks a bit rushed and just askew enough to look like it ran a few laps through a carnival of carnival mirrors, which is especially fitting for the bat and his rogues' gallery. Also, Sale draws Batman with black shorts instead of a speedo, so I feel all-around more comfortable as a masculine reader.  Thanks, Tim.

2: Jim Lee

There's not much to say about Lee. He really captures the darkness of the Dark Knight. His use of shadow is incredible, often to the point of being chilling (see the "Hush" storyline for tear-inducing shadows). Also, I think his Batman is the most physically intimidating. Probably because he uses me as his Batman model.



1: Michael Turner

In my opinion, Michael Turner was the greatest comic book artist of our time. He's another artist who drew every character well, not just Batman. The most striking feature of each of his characters is the eyes. (Does that sound feminine? It doesn't, does it? It does? Eff.) Unfortunately, Turner passed away from cancer last year (fittingly enough, on the same weekend as the Wizard World Chicago comic convention). I met him in L.A., and he was an outstanding person, though I'm sad to say that he didn't bequeath any of his original art to me even though we shared a moment. 

So that's Batman Friday. It wasn't so painful, now, was it?  (Don't say it was. Batman will totally punch your face.)

The Droid is here. And it will destroy you.

So Motorola's new Droid phone dropped today. Now, I haven't used the thing, nor have I spent hours mentally caressing it with my longing and washing it in the tears of my yearning (Patrick), but even so, I think I have this thing figured out.  And what I've figured out is this:  The Droid is the most terrifying murder-phone to ever be unleashed on America.  

I learned this from Motorola's latest Droid commercial.  If you haven't seen it, let me set the scene:

A fleet of Soviet uber-stealth flying terrors scream through the sky over small-town America.  Reason: Russians have had it with Nebraska.  The planes break off, heading toward their respective targets, which for some reason are elderly cowboys.  As they tear through the sky, the planes open their bays to reveal racks of oversized, self-guiding, nano-technology pod missiles that are released with extreme prejudice and splinter down through the heavens at Billy Fred's Dirt Ranch and Sally Jim Mae's Gas Station and Cornatorium.

These clever little Communistic missiles plow into the earth with tremendous force, just a few feet shy of obliterating houses, trucks, fishing boats (fishing boats? In Nebraska?), and horses.  Yes!  Horses!  What did horses ever do to you, comrades?!  Russians are such jerks.

But the attempted horse slaughter isn't the scariest thing about the missiles.  As the simple townsfolk approach these smoldering, watermelon-sized projectiles (great idea, by the way...what, Nebraska, you were too good to see Independence Day?!  Never approach the creepy space pods!!), the metal bastards open of their own accord!  They're artificially intelligent Soviet super-bombs!  They open their little hatches, revealing yet another, smaller hatch, which also opens, revealing the small Droid phone.  Now, I'm not one for environmental soap boxes, but seriously, Russia, you could have fit 20 of these phones in each death-pod.  Putting just one in each missile seems like a terrible waste of resources.  Spoiler Alert: I think I know why you lost the War.

That's how the commercial ends.  We can only assume that the phone (which, by the way, looks terrifyingly similar to that other famous murder-computer, Hal, from 2001: A Space Odyssey.  Coincidence?) grows atomic laser spider legs and slaughters the entire population with its data-teeth and ergonomic flame thrower application.

Don't believe me?  Check out the commercial here: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=o9fXYQjwR0w&feature=player_embedded

The only good news to come from this ad?  Apparently, cowboys will love this phone.

Vampires, Readjust: Daylight Savings Time Wins Again

I experienced a bit of personal growth yesterday. Since it's the first time that's ever happened, I thought I'd share it with all 6.5 of my loyal readers.  (Ben, as a kU student, you only count as half. Go Mizzou!)

I digress.

As a youth, I harbored a lot of negative feelings toward Daylight Savings Time. Let's look at the fallout that occurs every time spring and fall worm their respective ways around the calendar:

1. I have to reset my alarm. I hate having to even acknowledge this particular torture device, much less deign to push its stupid, smug buttons.

2. I have to adjust to new levels of light and dark at new times of day and night. This goes against almost everything I believe. The thought of having to bend my will for the good of DST is maddening. My will bends to no man, except possibly Joss Whedon.

Growing up, I never quite understood why DST was so necessary.  Honestly, I still don't. I have this vague, mostly true (I think) notion that it's the farmers' fault.  This provided a lot of fuel for aggression since I grew up in Missouri Farmland Central, U.S.A.  Every spring morning I was mocked by their quiet contentment.  It was their fault that I was readjusting, once again, to a stupid, archaic sleeping schedule.  I didn't understand why I had to start waking up an hour earlier so they could hit the fields at the same time year 'round. And honestly, I still don't. Why don't just the farmers just wake up an hour earlier?  Don't drag me into your agricultural warfare.  I do my part.   eat your land's spoils.  Now let me nap.

(Disclaimer: Like I said, this notion is admittedly vague.  Regardless of the time of year, farmers are awake before noon, which is pretty much when I stumbled out of bed, so this could very well be extremely misguided angst.)

For years, I dreamed of a magical land where Daylight Savings Time didn't exist.  In high school, I learned that this land was called "Indiana."  It instantly lost all its magic.  But I still tried to fight DST.  For years, I refused to either spring forward or fall back, but to little or no avail.  As it turns out, Greenwich Mean Time is not determined by my $1.29 Walgreens alarm clock.  I'd had a hunch that this was true, but still.  The reality of the situation was unbearable.

But this year...not more than 36 hours ago...I had a change of heart.  I finally saw the value in this ridiculous practice. And I owe it all to my incredibly sadistic girlfriend.  I say "sadistic" because she wakes up to run every morning at 5:30, and through some stupid, unasked-for sense of duty, I've decided to take it upon myself to accompany her on these ungodly early runs.  Every morning by 6 am, we're out on the Chicago lakefront trail, yawning in the 20 degree lake winds.  It's cold.  It's early.  It's exhausting.
But the worst part of these early morning runs?  It's dark.  Really dark.  And you know what that means.

Vampires.

Seriously.  Vampires everywhere.  They love that trail at 6 am.  It's like their playground.  Literally.  There are playgrounds.  But with vampires.  The reason our morning jogs are so productive is that we spend more than half the time sprinting away from pale beasts with sharply fanged mouths.  (Pro: I've lost 20 pounds!)  But it's really frigging dangerous.

So this Monday, I strapped on my chain mail jogging suit and my vest with pockets for wooden stakes, and we set out on the path.  But here's the thing.  Daylight Savings Time ended on Sunday.  We fell back an hour in time!  The sun was up at 6 am on the lake!  The vampires were nowhere to be found!  We were saved!  True, the lack of motivation to run led us to call it a day at 6:03 and head back to the couch to eat chips and watch True Blood, but we were saved!

So now, finally, after 26 years, I can say with all my heart...thank you, farmers.  And please keep growing corn.  I love corn.