A little explanation about my nickname, there will be an exam later. My name is none of your business. I am a recovering nerd, geek, space-cadet, of the sort that used to play Dungeons and Dragons, collect comic books, and go to Rennaissance Fairs in character. I am not ashamed of my past. I still partake of certain comic book conventions; the only important one that gathers every year in San Diego, I watch Summer blockbuster movies without a hint of irony, and I like big-haired anime. I love Hong Kong movies, too. I have two kids who play video games. I have no qualms about sharing my interests with them. The Nerd Revolution was not only televised, we all own the 5 disc box set with the director's commentary.
It's a real vindication for my me and homies who rolled through the barren wasteland, taking the abuse from the preppies and the mods, the cha-chas and gangsters, the pocket-protectors in hand. We graduated, went to school, grew up and took over. We built the iPhone, created the Web, invented Windows Vista, shot the Matrix, built Narnia, and crash landed on Lost island.
I'd like to say I've grown up. I have greater responsibilities and I no longer immerse myself blindly in imaginary worlds. Yet, there is still a great part of me that can't forget where I've been and that's why my nickname is Herbie: B(big), f(fat), Herbie (Popnecker) who is a parody super-hero comic from the 1950's. He's ridiculous and so am I. It keeps me grounded.
BfHerbie
Wicked
I'm still dragging from the great night I had, a night I'd been planning with my girlfriend J. for awhile now (it was her birthday the night before) and I'm still having the music running through my head.
We saw Wicked (how very upscale), and while I don't usually like big production number musicals I did like Wicked. Yeah, I guess it was the witty digs at the political establishment and the humorous bits between the showstoppers. There was a bit of Disneyland to the staging, the dragon breathing fire above the actors a bit much, but the shadows of the original stars Chenowith and Menzel were still present despite lesser talents in the L.A. production at the Pantages. I usually hate the Pantages for its big musical histrionics, but this was a musical for the age after excess, controlled yet wooly I would say, and it was in the end: just great. Cool songs that I could sing in the shower to. A bit of snarky commentary at the political and musical establishment and overall another beautiful night amongst many others for me and my girl.
