For those of you who don’t remember, the Power Glove was released as a peripheral to the Nintendo Entertainment System in 1989. That is also, coincidentally, when it entered my heart.

The Power Glove itself, on the other hand, didn’t actually work that way. Using it was more like sign language for NES. After about two hours of flexing my index finger and yelling “Jump. JUMP!” at the screen in a panic, I gave up and learned to operate the wrist-mounted control pad with my left hand.

Take it off? What’re you, nuts? No, no, perhaps you don’t understand. This was a Power Glove. You don’t just take a Power Glove off. So it makes gameplay a little harder, instead of easier as advertised. That’s an acceptible sacrifice.

Update: Looks like they finally got it right.

The plot goes like this: Marlon Brando and his wife have discovered that their home planet of Krypton (which is, apparently, an English-speaking planet) is going to blow up. Why? Who knows, but the fact that all the office buildings are made out of crystals might have something to do with it.
Brando attempts to convince a bunch of guys in foil jumpsuits to evacuate, but they threaten to squish him in a windowpane and launch him into space.

So — he makes a giant Christmas ornament for his son to escape Krypton in. Then he and his wife have a painfully expository conversation about the powers he will have on earth. Then they launch him into space, wrapped in a blanket of primary colors (although the only colors we’ve seen on Krypton so far have been silver, black, and clear – and clear’s not even a color), where he floats around for about three years.

His spaceship crash-lands on Earth. The big burnt ball nearly hits two old people in a truck, and a three-year-old climbs out. So naturally the old people adopt him, and use him as a human jack.

Skip 15 years or so. Pa Kent dies of a heart attack, after the Man of Steel challenges him to a race (Nice, Clark. What’s next? Arm-wrestle grandma?), and Clark gives us the first hint of his obsessive Messiah complex (“..all my powers, all the things I can do, and I couldn’t even save him…”) and finds a green crystal in the storm cellar. So what does he do? Well, he does what any red-blooded 18-year-old would do with a green crystal: he walks to Antarctica with it.

Clark throws the green crystal in the water, and we find out how contractors work on Krypton; the green crystal becomes a big building, in which Marlon Brando’s floating head teaches Clark everything he needs to know about being a relocated Kryptonian. The instruction takes, apparently, 12 years; during this time, Clark’s weird blanket (which was shiny and metallic) becomes his super suit (which is now matte and elastic), and he wears the seal of his father (“S” for “Jor-El”).

So Clark pretends to be a geek and moves to Metropolis, where he gets a job as a guy who sits around in front of a typewriter and harrasses the reporters. He meets a homely, skinny reporter named Lois Lane and immediately falls in love with her. This is probably due to the fact that he is from a rural farming town and she looks like she could be related to him.

Eventually, she gets herself into some mortal danger, as people do around Clark. He’s kind of like Jessica from Murder She Wrote: everywhere she went, people died. Why did nobody ever investigate her? But I digress.

Clark immediately rips off his shirt, revealing that he has been wearing his ridiculous supersuit this entire time, as if it were some sort of thermal underwear. I get that part, but the cape – where has he been keeping the cape?

Then there’s a lot of him going around saving stuff. He stops a cat burgler and some bank robbers, saves the president’s plane, and returns a cat to its neglectful owner. Yay Superman.

Now we meet Lex Luthor, a nefarious real estate agent who lives in an abandoned train station with a retard and a blonde. Not very intimidating. Lex has a plan to launch nuclear missles, but we don’t know why yet (duh-nuhnuhnuh!).

We cut back and forth for a while: Superman, Lex, Superman, Lex, ad tedium. The only remarkable moment in this exchange is a scene in which Superman takes Lois flying – and she repays him by assaulting us with terrible mental poetry: “I don’t know who you are… just a friend from another star.” No, really. I couldn’t make this stuff up. Apparently, it takes a multi-million dollar production team to do that.

Lex gets the retard and the blonde to sneak onto the nuclear missles – while they’re in transit – and change coordinates. Apparently, the U.S. military transports nuclear missles on clearly marked trucks with the missles sticking up for everyone to see. They also transport said missles with a convoy of 5 or 6 guys, all of which are really easily distracted.

Oh yeah, and Lex figures out the kryptonite angle, by a stretch of logic that escapes me. The yellow sun makes him strong, so rocks must make him weak. No, wait, the gravitational pull makes him strong, so kittens must make him… fuck, I give up.

This having been done, Lex calls Superman to his abandoned train station using an ultra-high frequency. Why he assumes that Superman can hear this, I don’t know, but he’s right. He tries to shoot him, burn him, freeze him, and eventually talk him to death, but to no avail. So instead, in the tradition of all the best Bond movies, he explains his plan to him before attempting to kill him.

Luthor goes to great length to explain why he has decided to nuke California: he’s bought a lot of shit land in Nevada that will become very valuable beachfront property when everthing west of the San Andreas Fault Line sinks into the ocean. He has visual aids and everything. It really is an A+ report.

Then he drops another bomb (pun intended): there’s another nuke on its way to New Jersey. Why? I don’t know. Maybe because the retard screwed it up earlier, and maybe it’s plan B. Whatever.

Meanwhile the U.S. military has launched the nukes, and are freaking out about where they’re going. Apparently, when launching nuclear missles over American airspace, they neglect to double-check the coordinates.

Back at the batcave, Lex has slipped Supes a kryptonite necklace, and Supes is trying to break the chain, but can’t. Of course, the chain is perfectly large enough to pull over his head, but he tries to break it instead. Well, you can’t blame him for being weak-minded: he’s a farmboy. Luthor’s blonde lets him out, so that he can save her mother in New Jersey.

So Supes goes after the NJ nuke. Can’t quite catch it, can’t quite catch it…. got it. He can’t, however, get to California in time to stop that nuke. All hell breaks loose, and Superman goes about the task of trying to single-handedly keep western California attached to the continent. Nobody seems to be worried about fallout, as long as the busfull of school children are okay.

Meanwhile, Lois gets buried alive in the fault line. Superman finds her skinny wrist sticking up out of the dirt, and lets out a superyell. He then preceeds to turn the earth – and thus time(?) – backwards by flying around the earth at a speed of two to three revolutions per second! He can circle the entire earth in half a second, but he couldn’t catch two missles only 2000 miles apart in several minutes?

Well, whatever. He saved the day and made room for a sequel, and that’s all that really mattered.

I’m going to take a nap now.

Buy Superman – The Movie and I might make 2 cents!

Here are my thoughts:

Build

The first thing I did when I opened the Palm TX was grope at it like a 13-year-old boy feeling up his first boob.

No, really. It was just like that. I had to struggle with the packaging, find the secret catch in the back, fumble it open, and slip a hand underneath it just to squeeze the thing a bit.

It looks almost like metal – has this oddish black tincture like, I dunno, gun bluing or something. And it feels almost like metal, but get this… when you bite it, it’s plastic. Go on; try it. Come to think on it, I wonder if biting it ruins the warranty?

Anyway…

Just like the almost-looks-like- and almost-feels-like-metal body, the TX comes complete with an almost-looks-like- and almost-feels-like-suede cover. This almost-looks-like an attractive PDA.

But… and this is the really important part, and I’m sure the part you guys were all actually curious about…

the stylus is real metal.

That’s right. Pure, 100% real … i don’t know… steel or something. The only bit of material in the whole damn thing that seems to be completely what it looks and feels like. We’re talking $0.03 of quality Chinese steel; now that’s quality.

Still, the thing fits perfectly in your hand (unless you’re Gary Coleman, who has cute little toddler hands) and makes you look all serious and businesslike, even when you’re carrying your hippie messenger bag and doing nothing more businesslike than doodling breasts or writing “my boss is a poop” over and over again, so I guess the build is okay.

Palm OS & Software

Yep, pretty much the same as the Tungsten T5 I bought during my last gadget DTs. Palm always has pretty good software; the PIM (Prophylactic/IUD Management) apps work pretty well, and don’t cause the PDA-throwing seizures the Outlook-ish apps found on Windows CE devices do.

I’d put more time into reviewing these, but that’s boring, and let’s face it, it’s not what you buy a PDA for. You buy a PDA for…

Porn

Despite my repeated letters to Palm on the subject, the Palm TX still does not come with any preloaded porn. It comes with some pictures (a couple of Mac-ish desktop patterns, some random palm tree), and about the gayest* music video I’ve ever seen.

But no porn.

I don’t understand this. Porn is the reason to buy a media-rich PDA. If I didn’t want it for porn, I’d buy a Zire or one of those $35 Sharp dealies I keep tripping over in the WalMart electronics section.

Sit on any given metro train in downtown Manhattan, and you’ll see 3.27 men in ill-fitting suits staring at a PDA screen. What do you think they’re looking at? Their schedules? No… they’re watching “hott young blond” doing “XXXXX”. That’s what 4″ video technology was invented for – so that men could watch porn in a wider range of situations and not be arrested.

Instead, I’m looking at a palm tree and a butterfly, because I can’t figure out how to get Star Whores Episode II – Attack of the Bones to convert to the proper video codec. Lame.

WiFi

Now to the reason I bought a TX even though I had a T5… WiFi. If I can’t have my porn preloaded, I’ll download it, damnit.

Email works. I checked my email like 20x from the TX while sitting right next to my computer. Good to know that when I’m in a jam and can’t get to my computer, I can still get my Cialis and natural breast enhancement ads from any WiFi location.

The browser’s okay. You’re not exactly gonna want to browse eBay for quilts or Conan sword replicas on it, but you can read my blog from it, and that’s all you really care about. And, it can be used in a pinch to access porn in an emergency situation. Like your bus trip to work. Or a slow day at the office. Or a board meeting.

Other Functions

Since you’re only gonna use the calendar and todo list for like a week before the frustration of writing the letter G seventeen times in a row before it registers gets the better of you, it’s good to know that the Palm TX can be used for a number of other functions:

1. Door stop
2. Hockey (not street hockey; this will void the warranty) puck
3. Bookmark
4. Ninja star (may void warranty)

Quirks

After a few days, I began to notice a few quirks that should make any potential buyer wary.

First of all, the Palm TX drinks. Like, a lot. I had almost a full bottle of Crown Royal on the table, and I set the Palm next to it. I had a couple of sips now and again, sure, but the Palm TX drained the bottle when I wasn’t looking.

And the next morning, I found it out had peed all over the floor next to the toilet. I mean, c’mon, TX, aim a little. Must have been all that drinking.

I tried to talk to Palm TX about its drinking, but it just sat there and stared at me, stoic and hostile. I guess I just don’t know it well enough yet to hold an intervention.

Conclusion

The Palm TX is a handy little porn player that looks and feels like metal and suede but isn’t. Programs are pretty good, but nobody uses them anyway, except for maybe the Solitaire. Doesn’t come preloaded with porn, but if you can figure out the video conversion, you’re in good shape. Web and email are totally handy in your imagination, even if they don’t really seem to be in reality. Consumers should be aware that the Palm TX may be a borderline alcoholic.

The concept, in theory, is fairly simple: take everything you’d get in a good ol’ “just-like-Mom-used-to-take-out” KFC dinner and chuck it all in a bowl. Like a big meat smoothie. Mmmmmm.

So here’s the deal. The Famous Bowl consists of layers, in order:

1. Processed flake “mashed” potatoes
2. Processed flake gravy
3. Corn (no, seriously)
4. Fried chicken parts of unknown origin
5. More salty gravy
6. Three kinds of processed cheese

So naturally, I had to try one.

It was really quite good. I mean, yes, the processed sinew chicken part kept rolling off my fork, but once I learned to mash it down into the pureed potato, corn, and gravy paste in order to keep it in place, I was okay. And yes, I couldn’t quite figure out what part of the chicken I was eating, but c’mon, it’s KFC – you learn to live with that. And the “mashed” potatoes were a bit more like potato-flavored gruel covered in salty meat-juice gravy. And I’ll admit, the combined textures of corn and gravy were rather peculiar, but…

But other than those minor complaints and the vaguely toxic feel of the whole thing, it was great!

I think we should expand this layered-bowl concept to other restaurants:

• McDonald’s – A layer of grits, topped with French Fries, catsup, Chicken McNuggets, and (of course) cheese, in a covered bowl you can shake up. I’m lovin’ it.
• Taco Bell – a tortilla filled with a layer of rice topped with beans, cheese, beef, pico de gallo, and… wait. That actually sounds pretty good.
• Burger King – a layer of meat, topped with meat, and covered in a three-meat blend.

Plus, this new KFC confabulation has the added benefit of increased cardiological demand! So support your local struggling pharmaceutical company and eat a KFC Famous Bowl today.

Pros:

1. It’s portable
2. It’s a conversation starter (“What in the bloody hell is that?!?”)
3. It’s monochromatic in shades of yellow/brown.

Cons:

1. It’s mashed potatoes, corn, gravy, chicken bits, and cheese. Mixed together, for God’s sake.

Note: Apparently, I’m not the only one who finds these things horrifying. Smivey thinks they suck as well. But then, Smivey thinks everything sucks.

In this film, Hell looks like the regular world, only the air is scorched with fire and hot winds blow everything around and stooped over creatures hobble around en masse, suspiciously eyeing each other and mumbling to themselves:

I’ve seen that before. Heck, I’ve been there before.

It’s Palm Springs, Florida.


Buy The Constantine DVD (Full Screen Edition) and I might get 2 cents!

It’s just that every post I write about food, Smivey seems to have written about it first, and drops by to link his blog. As if I don’t know he’s funnier. It’s the blogging equivalent of “Simpsons did it!”

So here. Here’s proof that I wrote about Oreo Cookie pizza first. Just look at the date on this post. I wrote about it Oreo Pizza so long before Smivey that the internet hadn’t even been invented yet. Hell, I hadn’t even been born yet. That’s just how much of a jump I have on Smivey on the topic of Oreo Pizza.

And to prove it, here’s a picture I took of my Oreo Pizza long before Smivey:

That’s right. See how it’s all sepia-toned? That’s ’cause it’s old. Much older than Smivey’s post.