The Time Of The Doctor - Hmmm (Spoilers Be A'Plenty, Having Seen The Ep Is Useful)

The Christmas ep has been and gone. And I was happy with it, and about it.

It was not however, without some issues...

It started out strong, Oswin making Christmas dinner for her parents and grandmother (it must be a stepmother?, Clara losing her mother is a strong plot point previously) and made up boyfriend, turkey in the Time Vortex, the holograph projector to put clothing on Eleven. The question, is this planet the Gallifrey put in the pocket universe by the thirteen Doctors. They go into a discussion of the allowed number of reincarnations, cleaning up some of the logic - Ten regenerating into ... Ten, because "I had some vanity issues". Thus making Eleven, because of the War Doctor and Ten's regen into Ten, the 12th and last incarnation, and bringing in the question of how, since we know there is a regen at the end of this ep, he can regenerate again. There is, in canon, yes I'm a nerd piss off, a possibility of the Time Lords granting more incarnations, so biology huh?

(Update: Also, since Donna took some juice from the Fighting Hand when she became Doctor Donna, is that a regeneration?)

However, after entry into Christmas, it slows down a lot, a bunch of lot. The wooden Cyberman was a neat scene, "Also, I didn't tell you that my sonic screwdriver doesn't work on wood." But, he has used the screwdriver to open doors, cut holes in floors, so as cool as the scene was, it missed. And, the time in Christmas frankly dragged. The children's drawings seemed to make my allergies act up, nice touch.

Now, Clara begs the Time Lords for help, and speaks the only name the Doctor has truly earned and loved. The Time Lords, never known for sentimentality or actually caring about anything, grant what Eleven called 'a new regeneration cycle (is that one more regen, or is that the full 12? Presumably the 12?), and regeneration starts, ending the war in Christmas somewhat anticlimactically, not the best segment they've ever done, fixing a problem with essentially a nuke as opposed to cleverness.

The ending with Eleven and Clara had my allergies reacting again, and the actual regen into Twelve (and I think Capaldi hit the right note in his second appearance), was right, I really liked the abrupt as opposed to some CGI fest.

The next question, waiting for the next season? Rose carried over from Nine to Ten, Ten lost and/or said goodbye to all his companions going to Eleven, a clean slate starting with Pond. Twelve seems to be at least carrying Clara over for a bit, and I really like Clara so good, I hope they make good use of her as opposed to, say, a 3 episode send-off, or going the Rose romantic direction. (That to me made for some great acting for Tenant and Piper, but, eh, not the strongest part of Ten's run for me, I absolutely adored Donna and their relationship.)

I'll be re-watching, of course, probably too many times (yes, Sweetie, deal...), and it was on the whole positive, but could have been better. Needed more Spudboy. Oh, and, Handles was a really good point, and made for a good scene and amazing callback when he powered down for the last time.

Thoughts, comments, scathing rebuttals?

I'm A Traditionalist - In A Certain Sense

My own little long-time traditions - get some popcorn and a good scotch.

Why is this not on heavy holiday rotation?

Good voice for Opus.

This was on every Christmastime when I was a little, well, younger paleo. Along with the White Seal.

Good Chuck Jones Stuff.

Nagaina freaked me out then, maybe now too!

And finally, we all know what paleo will be doing into the wee hours after work (I'm on vacation coverage today, pppbblltt! It happens, don't mind, there are probably 30 people on the whole campus, security and my team, so just keep active...) wee hours after work tonight!

Geeksquee!!!!

Update: Courtesy of a coworker

snerk!!

Recipe For paleoWallbangers

By Popular Request.

Ingredients:

A citrus soda:

Diet for the diabetically inclined. Squirt, Sprite, 7Up also work.

Cheap-ass disgusting canadian whisky.

Find what's on sale. I guess I prefer Seagrams or Windsor, but they are top end stuff. (For CADCW.)

Follow closely:

In one (1) large glass (I prefer the 2011 edition Minnesota State Fair Holographic Goldy Gopher 32oz Refillable plastic), add 4 ice cubes (from local sparkling water, preferably origami-ed into something cool, like an albatross, or Darth Vader {Not whiny ass bitch Anakin. Darth Fucking Vader. And by the way, so, Luke went to Uncle Owen and Aunt Beru. Means that since what's-her-nuts, Anakin's mother, Zoidberg or some such, was never married, that they were Anakin's brother or sister, or in Alabama, both. Now Zoidberg was a slave chick, so how were Uncle Owen/Aunt Beru/Both not also slaves? And, since teh happy couple were moisture farmers on Tatooine, with enough money to give whiny ass bitch Luke a car, why couldn't they have bought back Zoidberg, I mean, their house had to have terrible issues with sand being tracked in. What I'm saying is, fuck that noise. Darth Vader. Or an albatross.})

Add 4-6 fingers of whisky.

Add 4-6 fingers of soda.

Now, very important. Add 4-6 fingers of whisky.

Drink until you have heartburn.

Every couple months, buy something drinkable. Prepare to lash out a couple quid.

Happy imbibing y'all!

If one should question my taste in mixed drinks, take into account that I am diabetic, and having a good beer, my real preference, is a rare event. If one should question my taste in whiskeys, you're wrong. The Jameson's Special Reserve is mighty, and the whole Glen Morangie family is bottled orgasm. (Anticipating the jokes, hush it.)

Since I Suck At Bloggism, I'll Just Do A Packer Game Live-Thingy

When I went to get lunch for the wife and I, the MN 'Queens - Cincy Bengals game was over and Twin Cities sportstalk was already gleefully giving up on the decade,

Best one?
"I just don't think Leslie Frazier has the tools to be a head coach." Holy damn Hannah, every dog in North America heard that whistle. Jesus, dude. Wonder if he watches Duck Dynasty?

OK, teh Pack.

I've been very much on the side of the fence wherein Dom Capers, Defensive Coord of the Packers, should be stoned, whether or not anyone says Jehovah, but I have also happily heaped blame on the defensive players, especially the secondary, for being completely incompetent. And I stand by that, but shit, that first Pittsburgh series we were not in a proper set for a single play, the punt due to weather as much as anything.

And I want to have Eddie Lacy's children - before anyone gets too torn up in the biological unneccessities of it, I'll adopt 'em. Boykin's too - SIX!!

Anyone reading? Bring it.

Guillotines Get Lazy When Not Used

Listening to Thom Hartmann today, when a caller expressed the wish that the Walmart protestors would gather at the homes of the Walton heirs, with a family worth (Sept. 2013) of $144B.

Mr. Hartmann, who I enjoy and respect 99% of the time (occasionally he gets a touch homeopathic, which, even as generally lunatic as I am, I don't buy), suggested that the Waltons attempt to stay out of the public eye and be quiet billionaires makes them non-combatants, unlike the Koch brothers. He suggested, in a philosophically consistent sense, and he's probably correct in an ethical sense, that change should and can only really be achieved by becoming active in the political process.

Where I strongly disagree is that the Walton heirs are non-combatants.

They are not sitting in their living rooms playing GTA V and only hearing about Walmart business practices or lobbying activities if they happen to surf past Free-Speech TV.

They could tell their lobbyists or the Walmart board "ya know, hey, we are being kinda peanutheady here, let's give everyone a raise and insurance, and close on Thanksgiving."

They don't. They won't.

Fuck 'non-combatant'. They are fair game.

The right-wing scum protest (and gleefully kill) at the homes of doctors who provide abortions. They check the countertops of children with needs ("hey, you got granite? Die please!"). They fight like wolverines to prevent people who just aren't quite... ummm... worthy?... no, wait, poor!, from getting access to doctors.

A lawn bowling and cliffotine party couldn't happen to a more deserving group of people.

I Thank FSM For Dickweeds, Without Which My Postings Be Fewer

The Liberty Counsel, a frothingly anti-gay Xtian organization, has released a movie, Uncommon, starring former CHiP Erik Estrada (I was always partial to the other dude. No, the other dude).

Via Raw Story:

According to its IMDB.com page, “Uncommon” will depict students at fictional Rosewood High School as they work to create their own theater, music and dance departments after they are eliminated due to budget cuts.
“Struggling to find the right script, music and choreography the students get advice from an uncommon source: the Bible,” writes Daniel Bowden on IMDB.

Liberty Counsel sees within this a legal framework defending Xtian terrorism-er-prozelytization -

My terms a little harsh? Kids can pray all they like - any chance of a snow day would have me pleading with heaven by 3AM. It's when adults, authority figures, start trying to fuck with kid's heads, regardless of what the kids or parents think, that I go looking for pointy thingies.

- framework defending Xtian terrorism-er-prozelytization in the public schools.

Dear Liberty Counsel,

Hello! Fuck you!

• Aren't all y'all the ones primarily pushing for those cuts in arts programs, and schools in general?
• Aren't the kids in the arts programs all into the Glee and the Eurythmics and the other gay things?
• Public schools? What happened to homeschooling, the greatest, Glee-est thing ever, because as we know Einstein went to public school and it took him years to figure out who he was related to?

Love, paleo

I'm Coming Out

My dear, dear, internet friends, I can't live this facade any longer. I have very much to tell you something, and please listen, even if it is hard to fathom...

I'm, ummm... a Finnie.

I've known since I was little, and had a goldfish, and we understood each other, even as I did not understand myself, what I was, and even as he (she? I was young) tried to lead me through the early stages of finding myself, finding my fin-sona, finding my school.

I am Aragorn, a black crappie. My name in the language of my tribe means 'wettest among the swimmers'.

My wife is processing. She understands now why I needed the boat, why she keeps finding scales in the blankets, why Jeremy Wade is my sworn enemy, why I get so distracted in bait shops.

Please try to realize that I am me, and reality is what is.

Ia, Ia fthagn, may your minnows be hookless.