I'm off tomorrow to fly to Anaheim to visit family and The Mouse. I'd be driving down already, as are half my family, only Olivia and I have tickets tonight to see Mythbusters Live. More on that later, as I've no real idea how they can turn that show into a live thing.

Meanwhile, I'm packing kilts and my Sad Kermit t-shirt to wear to the park, trying to decide which combat boots are best for walking.

Sunday, I fly mouseward, and then wednesday, drive back here, stop quickly to drop my disneyland clothes and pick up my dinner party clothes, and head north for thanksgiving with a friend mine (who is a MILF, and I mean that both literally and personally), in the napa-sonoma area

I won't really be home for a week, and thus blogging is unlikely, unless I decide to live-blog from inside pirates of the caribbean on my iPhone.

Pack head, y'all. That's what this week's holiday is about. The feast of Saint Gluttony.

This is incredibly well done - a mashup of Bela Lugosi's Dead with the Walt Disney 'Haunted Mansion' soundtrack, by Howard Hallis .

Listen

(found on BoingBoing for course).

There are certain things a man does for no other reason than to win the approval of women.

This can include gifts, certainly. But it can be as simple as lawn-mowing, or putting the seat down, or getting one's fucking feet off the table.

Little else, though, has quite the innocent payoff of pleasing adolescent girls.

Hence, I accompanied my nine year old daughter Ruby to "Disney's High School Musical on Ice" at what was once called the Oakland Coliseum (though it now seems to be named after some over-monied high-tech database giant).

It was a bit odd being in that building again. It's been a while. I've lost count of how many concerts I saw there through the seventies and eighties. They seem to have re-modeled the place heavily, or the drugs I was on back in those days did worse to my memory than I was aware.

But that night, it wasn't stoner boys in down coats and waffle-stomper boots, sporting Yes and Genesis and Pink Floyd t-shirts. Tonight, the smell of shampoo and lip-glass and adolescent excitement was in the air.

There's a sound - unlike any other sound, anywhere. This is what Beatlemania must have sounded like in person. This is the sound five thousand adolescent girls screaming as one, at the top of every tiny set of lungs, when an skater dressed and made up and wigged to vaguely resmble Zac Efron takes of his shirt and does a bit of fancy footwork across the ice.

I have to admit, such excitement is infectious.

Now, if you have adolescent girls at home, or know someone who does, you are all too aware of the whole High School Musical phenomenon. I won't bother to describe, or try to explain, why this low-budget Disney Channel made-for-television movie has become such a massive hit. What I'll say, though, is that it's cute, silly, has pretty good songs, and likable stars (and as we know from the gossip pages, Vanessa Anne Hudgens is pretty tasty indeed in her birthday suit.)

But one has to be at least a bit afraid at the idea of - well, anything on ice that isn't either olympic, or a comestible.

Ok, maybe it was just the screaming girls. Maybe it was the fantastic seats I had (I could reach the ice from my seats, which means I was close enough to see the skaters sweat, and see the expressions on their faces when they would occasionally drop character). Or maybe it's that I genuinely love figure skating. But I admit it - I liked it. It was, possibly, the most soulless piece of live performance I've ever seen, and yet I enjoyed it.

Yeah, I'm blaming the little girls. It's hard to be jaded and cynical when you're sitting behind a ten year old who looks like she's seeing god every time a favorite character skates by

Ruby was absolutely paralyzed with excitement. I thought she was unhappy halfway through the first act, and then realized, she was utterly overwhelmed into a fugue state. She wasn't even able to applaud at first. I'm not entirely sure she was even breathing. When we got home, she had a sobbing breakdown, a combination of exaustion (WAY past her bedtime) and thrill over-load.

I can't say I want to go back and see HSMonI again right away. But I also don't at all mind the time and money. Well, well worth it. And damn, are those good Dad Points.

Saturday, Ruby goes with me to her first hockey game; thus, she gets to see what ice should look like, ie, with blood on it.

Update: I just read a review of this show by SFGate's Peter Hartlaub. He captures it perfectly.

I remember when I used to get home from trips and have time to write a big 'ol trip report with photos every time.

Actually I don't remember it, but I have posts like that, so I should remember it

I flew down late Wednesday; a great flight as it turned out. I'd been heavily girl-watching a woman at the ticket counter when I was in the security line, wanting to get a look at the front 'cause the back was so good; all the right curves in all the right places, and a whole lot of strawberry-blond hair. She was in a weird sort of shorts-pants-suit that shouldn't have worked, but for some reason did; it looked both casual and business-like, and cute.

The self-same woman wound up sitting next to me on the plane, and the front was even better than that back; she wasn't just cute, she was gorgeous. We spent the hour-and-a-quarter long trip to Anaheim talking about tattoos; she won my respect by knowing some of my tattoos were Maori, and she wanted as much of a tour of all my tattoos as I could give without 1) getting up or 2) dropping trou (which I'll admit I'd have done happily if asked).

So it was an unusually good flight.

D-land was great. We'd picked a dead week, so thursday night we were able to walk on to any ride in the park with no wait - and no major rides were closed, so I had my near fill of indiana jones, the matterhorn, haunted mansion, and of course, Pirates of the Caribbean (but more about that in a moment).

Friday, I went on a ride I'd never done before, at Disney's lesser park, California Adventure; Grizzly River Run. And I gotta say, this ride kicks ass. We got there late friday, and the temperature was dropping, so there were no lines at all; however, this meant that it was freezing. We rode until we were near hypothermic, and soaked to the skin. Only cold drove us off. The good thing is, we were staying at the Grand Californian, so our hotel was literally less that a hundred feet from GRR. I love GRR for the ride, of course, but an added benefit is what a good dousing of cold water does to pretty young ladies tee-shirts. Mmmm.

In any case, I flew home from d-land late saturday, took a cab since no one was there waiting to collect me at the gate (hey, a guy can dream), and then spent my sunday doin' nuthin' but reading a James Bond novel and nursing a sore foot (I'll be damned if i know what i did to it, but I managed to hurt myself two days before leaving; luckily darvocet is a good way to way to enhance enjoyment of the Magic Kingdom), and cookin' some fine caldo de pollo.

All in all, a way-too-short but very easy, low-key trip.

But let's talk about Pirates.

I'm standing in Downtown Disney in my black workman's utilikilt, trying to get a cell connection (Cingular may have better service than verizon did but they really don't have quite the quality.)

I'm standing in a stream of people who I assume were heading towards the disney trams; i am the rock around which the stream part, standing with my back facing the upstream mass.

"Don't you dare, mother!" i hear, and turn, to see an attractive older women woman and her even more attractive late-twneties daughter heading my general direction. I smile at them, and know they were somehow talking about me.

They glance at each other, and the mother leans is close, not stopping, and asks the question.

"We were wondering if it's really true that you don't wear anything under there."

They're stepping past me, and I am intent on the phone call I'm trying to have.

"You'll just have to find that out for yourself." I say. And they shriek, and giggle, and it's that kind of giggle. Then they're gone one way, and I'm walking away another; but I know that these two attractive ladies are now, as they head home, thinking about my cock. And that alone makes my evening.

I'm leaving on a very short trip to southern california - getting on a plane in about two hours. I wish I had time for a real vacation, with time spent sipping cocktails by a pool, and energetically doing nothing. But this isn't that kinda trip; i've got two and a half days to hit d-land and possibly a few other sites in and around anaheim (though I'm sure, as usual, I won't have time to go get tattooed by jack rudy; that always happens).

It's the kind of trip where one has fun, but never had time for downtime which what I need most right now. That has to wait a bit, however, and it's virtaully impossible to be unhappy at Disneyland.

I fly back saturday afternoon, so at least I have a day of peace and quiet after the trip. I'll need it.

I just saw the new Nightmare Before Christmas in 3D.

And lemmee tellya, this ain't your mamma's 3D. 3D movies have come a LONG way in the past few years, as you'll know if you saw Monster House in it's 3D version, or if you've seen the latest 3D attractions at Disneyland or Universal or other theme parks.

Now, i'm already a huge fan of this movie. So they only have to not fuck it up to be ok with me. Just a chance to see it on the big screen was cool, i listened to the people who didn't like it when it came out and didn't go see it in a theater. Luckily I later discovered they were wrong.

Well, they didn't fuck it up; they made it even cooler. The 3D is a perfect compliment to the very physical stop-motion animation, adding even more depth and life to a visually rich and complex movie. They also totally re-mastered the sound, which is awesome. I saw, and heard, things I'd never noticed before.

You know 3D has made it when you stop noticing a film is in 3D. And like in Monster house, which i saw at Mann's Chinese in los angeles a couple months ago, halfway through I stopped being aware of the glasses and the effect, and just watched the movie, marveling at how cool it looked but not thinking about it. That is when 3D is working, and in this film, it utterly does work.

Originally I'd heard this was going to be in very limited release, only playing in L.A., SF, and a couple other cities. But it looks like it's gone into national release, so go see it while it's still in the theaters. I bet it doesn't play for long, and if you're a fan, this is so completely a must-see.

Oh, and cute goth/emo girls love this movie, so there's another sort of eye-candy involved. I wound up deep in conversation with a girl next to me about Lemony Snicket and Daniel Handler's adult novels (which feature murder, absinth, incest, golems, and more clever literary references than you can shake a stick at.) So that's the kinda quality people this attracts, if, you know, you like that sort of thing.

Via BoingBoing, Inside the Magic has a first look at the Florida WDW version of re-made Pirates of the Caribbean.

I'm scared.

God, I have a new favorite blog.

Re-Imagineering:

A forum for Pixar and Disney professionals passionate about the Disney Theme Parks to catalog past Imagineering missteps and offer up tenable practical solutions in hopes that a new wave of creative management at Imagineering can once again bring back some of the wonder and magic that's been missing from the parks for decades.

These guys get it. They really, deeply, completely get it.

They get why Disney and Disney theme parks rock. They get what's wrong with the Disney company today, what's going wrong with the parks. They see the slippery slope Disney is on, toward corporate mediocrity.

And they see how an artistic and creative re-birth is possible for Disney. God, I hope people like Pixar's John Lassiter and Steve Jobs and Robert Iger are reading this. hell, Lassiter should be hiring these guys to take over.

Keep it up, guys. People need to hear it.

lying in the cherry tree.
Savage bed foot-warmer of purest feline ancestry.
Look out, little furry folk!
He's the all-night working cat.
Eats but one in every ten
leaves the others on the mat.
...And the mouse police never sleeps

     Jethro Tull, '...And The Mouse Police Never Sleeps'

I was going to tell this story as part of an entry or a series of entries about my Disneyland trip this week, but I don't feel like writing about all that and sorting pictures today. I should be outside doing something with my last vacation day bit I'm more in the angry, sit and brood sort of mood, sort of like when you feed a kid too much sugar and red food coloring; bouncing-off-the-wall wired and then a steep slope down to crash-and-burn.

So we'll start with my last day (lastday I wanted to say, which is the sorta geeky sci-fi reference spcknght will get).

Let's start with what I looked like, but imagine it angry. Big and angry. I'm not that tall, but I tend to look a lot bigger when I'm pissed off. Black kilt, black combat boots. And yeah, that's a mohawk.

Now a little background. Post 9/11, Disney started security checkpoints. Used to be inside the park after you pass the gates, and it included a pat down and a wanding, I think. Which was fine, we were all a little spooked just after 9/11.

Later, they moved it outside the gates; you'd get a check-over if you had a bag. But no wanding and no pat down, and no check at all of pockets. Even cargo pockets like on my kilt, which could easily hide a hand grenade or a .45 on each side. And certainly not on the pockets on my army BDU's which could hold a human head on each side. Yet bum bags and purses get a check. So - fine. You pass by if you have nothing to check.

Now though, they've moved the checkpoint to a bottleneck point between d-land and the new California Adventure park, so there's a queue you get into - along with everyone else, strollers, backpacks, and everything. So you wait with nothing to check behind people with hummer-wide strollers and packs big enough to tour Europe with.

To put it simply, it's a terrible system. And for a company that's so goddamn good at queue management, it's a fucking disgrace. It's a mass, a mob, not a line.

Now let's state the obvious; the check is pointless. I could walk in with a jacket made of c5 and they'd never stop me as long as I'm not wearing a bum bag. They're not looking for anything. They're making a show. It costs the visitor time, and the people doing the checks are not security people, they're just standard park employees ('cast members'), the same people who run the monorail and work the gift shops by the gate.

So I'm stuck in line behind a big Suburban of a stroller, and in front of a big Suburban of a stroller. With only a water bottle in my hands. I know what happens when I get up to the head of the line, I walk by the geezer doing the checks and he doesn't even look at me when I don't present a bag. So I slide around the stroller in front, lift my heavily tattooed arms to show I'm not carrying anything, and off I go.

At which point, the checkpoint guy starts yelling at me. Yelling, not the usual Disney politeness. Yelling at me to get back in line. So I stop, and turn around. And we have this conversation:

     Gate-geezer: : Sir, get back in line!

     Me: I've got nothing to be checked.

     Gate-geezer: : Everyone waits. Get back in line. Now.

     Me: Why? (Starting to get a little irritated. This is rude, for Disney)

     Gate-geezer: Sir, you must get back in line, and you much get back in line NOW!

     Me: Why? What for? (Now getting really irritated)

     Gate-geezer: : Now. Right now! EVERYONE WAITS IN LINE!

     Me: WHY? I've got nothing to be check for. I'm stepping out of the way. (Losing my temper and starting to show it)

     Gate-geezer: : EVERYONE waits in line!

     Me: WHY AM I WAITING IN LINE WHEN I DON'T NEED TO BE CHECKED? (my hands are now in fists. I'm starting to feel the man's teeth breaking when my fist connects with his face)

     Gate-geezer: Security! Security! Someone get security!

At this point, in my head, I'm taking him down, putting a combat-booted foot on his chest and explaining exactly how stupid this pretend security is, real as the gunfire on the Jungle Cruise. I'm ready for security to show up, and I'm ready to tell the motherfuckers, yeah, bring it. I'm ready to point out that this asshole pretending to inspect bags is doing nothing other than irritate guests.

I'm ready to get hauled the fuck off to mouse jail. No problem. This fucker is NOT going to tell me what to do, and if I have to take down two or three d-land guards, I'm ok with that.

It was a near thing. I was ready to go. And then I had one of those grown-up moments. I pictured the actual cops showing up, and my last vacation day spent in the Anaheim city jail. I pictured getting barred from Disneyland. And I was ok with that, until I pictured my kids having to bail Daddy outta jail instead of riding Pirates of the Caribbean and Indiana Jones.

And I'm tellin' you, it was fucking close. I could taste blood and had a moment of tunnel vision.

Good sense won out. God dammit, sometimes it sucks being a grownup.

Later, it occurred to me that the man may have reacted to my appearance. Mohawk, tattoos, skull rings, skull t-shirt, black and silver kilt that has a leather/biker look to it, combat boots. Everything about me says 'Fuck The World', and I forget that. Still, it was the single rudest person I've ever encountered in all the years I've been at Disneyland. My one regret is that I didn't manage to store the asshole's name in memory for a later report to management. It took me a good hour to stop wanting to do someone bad harm, and pretty much the rest of the day before I stopped needing to do someone good harm. Though I managed to not get any actual fights the whole rest of the day.

...Actually come to think of it, I still pretty much need to do someone good harm.

I had this whole plan for daily blog entries while I was down here, only I always forget how whipped I am when we get back from the park each day. I didn't have the juice to even think about writing.

Still, I had pictures I wanted to post, so last night, after a couple martinis, I sat down while the kids were winding down and got set to upload pictures from the camera.

And of course, the cable that I'd so carefully packed turned out to not be packed.

I am still somewhat puzzled over this, but it kneecapped my plan to post. So, you know, nevermind.

Heading home today - we had a vague plan to stay another night in SoCal and do something post-mouse but none of us really feel like it, so I'll be home and back on line tonight, maybe in time for an HNT post and everything.

Plus, I can tell a little story of almost popping a disney security guy in the mouth, and almost spending my last day in Mouse Jail.

But that little story can wait.

Now that my boss owns the Mouse, I figure I better check up on that little rodent.

Which is to say, I'm headed south to visit Disneyland.

I'm gonna try n' blog from down there - I'm taking the cable to upload pictures and everything. We'll see if that actually happens, I didn't do any blogging on my last Disney trip; but that was Florida. This is back to the original in Anaheim.

It's been a long three weeks work-wise, though a good three weeks. I'm re-engaged with what my team does, and back to making a significant contribution. I'm ragged, and so very ready for a vacation.

I had planned to get tattooed while I was down there but I just never got around to making the arrangements; but I'm gonna try to hook up with Jack Rudy to plan a tattoo, anyway. It'll give me an excuse to get back down there again in a few weeks. It's not that far, after all.

Anyway if updates are few, it's because I'm busy feeling up Minnie and tryin' to get a little tail from Ariel.

Yo ho, yo ho, a pirate's life for me.
We pillage, we plunder, we rifle, and loot,
Drink up, me 'earties, yo ho.
We kidnap and ravage and don't give a hoot,
Drink up me 'earties, yo ho.

We're rascals, scoundrels, villans, and knaves,
Drink up, me 'earties, yo ho.
We're devils and black sheep, really bad eggs,
Drink up, me 'earties, yo ho.

This is long since I've got the whole trip in one entry. Click the extended entry for photos and a full trip report.

Almost twenty years ago, I realize now, since I've been to Walt Disney World in Florida. late '86.

It's like a fucking country now. An entirely self-contained world.

To a California kid, it's simply amazing. I'm used to Disneyland, which until recently was one small park absolutely engulfed in motels and suburbia. Even now, now that The Mouse has bought up a lot of the surrounding property and expanded with another park (California Adventure) and a lot more, it's a fairly small space, a few city blocks, and still, surrounded my non-Disney commercial properties.

Contrast this with WDW; about 47 square miles, I don't know how many lakes, 8500 acres of wilderness premenantly preserved, four theme parks, two water parks, a huge mall and nightclub district (how many hotels?). I can only imagine how much power all this uses, how much waste it produces. And with all that, the feeling is of isolation. The real world is far away, the parks are far from each other, the resorts and hotels, mostly, cannot be seen one from the next.

When I was last there, it was much, much less elaborate. Two parks (Magic Kingdom and Epcot). Three, maybe four hotels. Nothing else. They've been busy.

We (Olivia, (11), Ruby (6), Barb, Me, and the In-Laws) were there for three and a half days; nowhere near enough. The parks (MGM, Magic Kingdom, Epcot and Animal Kingdom) each need at least a day, and Epcot could use two. We barely scratched most of the parks.

So I'm gonna be in beautiful Orlando, Florida sampling the exotic delights of Disney the latter half of this week, flying home Monday the 9th of May.

I'd like to say this will be a booze-and-narcotics driven adventure, a sort of Fear and Loathing vs The Mouse deal, but no, this is family. Kids. Grandparents. The Full Catastrophe.

I should have some blog entries from the trip, I'm takin' my laptop with me.

But you know, if I have any Florida-local readers who want to, um, get lost in the park with me, you know where to find me. I may also be open to post-park social invitations. Book early, and offer much.

Ok, so first things first.

Pluto is dead.

Disney World worker run over, killed by parade float at Magic Kingdom

Second, is this the end of Disney as we know it, or the birth of a new, better, post Eisner Disney?

Comcast proposes to buy Walt Disney

Who knows? I'd like to ask Roy Disney this question though.

The question is, will Comcast have the sense to leave it alone, respect the tradition, but make it GOOD again, fixing the problems and painting and fixing and all? Or will we have replacement of the old with pointless new, as in Cory Doctorow's Down and Out in the Magic Kingdom? (And a big thanks to MP for telling me I should read that book, it kicks major ass, particularly for Disney fans.) Speaking of which, I bet Doctorow has an opinion on this whole comcast thang. This will require more research.

While I'm pointing to these good things, how about we ask the folks at www.mouseplanet.com, see if they have an opinion on the whole deal?

What's the relevance? Well, not much, other than that I'm going to be at D-land next week, so I'll be thinking much on this matter. That and thinking about - well, that story isn't for public consumption, but trust me, I'll be thinking about it.

But enough about that. Let's talk about me. Wait, first I need scotch.

* * *

Ok. There. A wee dram of Oban.

So where were we? Ah, yes.

The sequel to Wanton. Which people keep asking me about.

Let me say, first, that I don't like sequels. I know of several stories I don't think need them (Say, on SS). One story I co-wrote that I think is sort of done (At least in my view - YMMV). Stories by other favorite SS writers that where part one is better than whatever followed.

People want Die Hard II though. It's better than going to see some indie flick that might not have as much stuff blowing up.

So that said - the main character in Wanton was birthed for something other than Wanton. He has a novel. The first chapter was written but died a painful death with the laptop it lived on several years back. He was un-named at the time, but he had a drinking problem, women problems, no job, a disrespect for authority, and a tendancy to walk into trouble by choice. So that novel still exists, and has a title, but isn't yet written.

But between that novel, and Wanton, there's a piece of story that has to happen. because - well, just because. I'm the writer I get to decide.

This is where I should have a link to the in-progress story. Only I'm not yet sure the story is in progress yet. I have 4000 words of it, but still no idea if the story is there yet, or if it has to wait a while. Below, though, is an excerpt.

The thing is, getting back to where I was when I wrote Wanton is hard. For I was possessed. Muse-ridden, like some Loa of creativity summoned with a dream veve, perched upon my shoulders and feeding fire into my brain.

I don't know if this will happen again, nor do I know if I can write this story correctly, yet, without it. Time, and my friends whos opinions I trust more than I trust my own, will tell me if now is the time, this the story.

The character's voice comes easily though. That much I know. All I had to do was write the excerpt below and I was back inside his head.

With that said, here's a passage: