I've got it! I've unlocked the socio-political meaning of Transformers. Check it:

Cybertron is a metaphor for America -- a giant, living machine. Indeed, its own citizens literally transform themselves from humaniods into the very cogs that drive Cybertron. No one Cybertronian can understand his impact on the planet itself, but by doing his job, the entire planet thrives, building and rebuilding itself constantly in the image of its own techno-economy. It's, like, straight out of An Enquiry into the Nature and Causes of the Wealth of Nations and stuff.

Okay, so the vision for Cybertron is one of equality, but, over time, there develop two distinct factions of robots: the Autobots and the Decepticons. The Autobots are comprised of the working-class robots, although there are a few free-thinking academics thrown in there too. Meanwhile, the Deception faction consists entirely of established industrial and military leadership who seek only to continue their own dominance. Sure, there are plenty of footsoldiers, if you will, on the Decepticon side, but they are dumb robots, rallying to the Decepticon banner based on the dogma from their leaders alone.

I think you see where I'm going with this one: Autobots are Democrats and Decepticons are Republicans.

When the two robot armies arrive on Earth the politics of the two factions are made even more clear; Whom do the Autobots befriend? The common man: construction workers like Spike and Sparkplug. The Deceptions only human allies are greedy business men. The Autobots are eco-friendly, while the Decepticons want only to clear-cut all of Earth in the name of accumulating precious Energon. On Earth, the Autobots turn into things like cars and trucks; The Deceptions turn into fighter jets and handguns. (And, you know, consumer electronics.)

The Autobots, of course, are the good guys. Their leader, Optimus Prime, is wise and just and only resorts to violence as a last resort. He wants to find a way for everyone to live together in peace and harmony and equality and says stuff like, "Freedom is the right of all sentient beings." When he passes on, his successor rises, brash and young, from the frontline of the Autobot ranks, yet painfully aware of the awesome obligation his leadership brings with it. Leadership never changes on the Deception side, even when Megatron is replaced, it's by himself in a new body: meet the new boss, same as the old boss.

So, you see, a vote for George W. Bush in November is a vote for Megatron.

I went to a job fair today, and got what I think are a few goods leads. While I was there, I picked up a brochure on Raytheon, the defense contractor, for my buddy Chris Miller.

"It's a good business to be in these days," I told him. And, sad to say, it may be about to get even better.

I'm fed up with higher education. Not because it chewed me up and spat me out without any useful knowledge or skills, but that, like the Republican warlords that run our country, they seem to hate the people they are supposed to represent. Namely, you know, us.

A few years ago Playboy magazine -- one of the last remaining outlets for independent thought (and other things) -- had a prescient article about the shift from American colleges as being places that treated their students as the adults they are, to authoritarian institutions with a sick in loco parentis complex that wants to regulate what students do with behavior, their bodies, and their lives.

If I'm remembering this article correctly (which is unlikely, since in defiance of my alma mater, I consumed quite a bit of alcohol during my stay in academia), there was a time when in loco parentis was the prevailing idea at colleges -- and that would be a time before the 1960s, at which point the horrors of the Vietnam War left many young adults wondering why their country would send them off to die in foreign rice fields but would treat them like children at home. This in turn gave way to a national movement in which young adults seized for themselves the respect and equality that they truly deserved.

Time wore on, I guess. As our society became more litigious and less righteous, many Univer$ities started to worry that letting their students (read: adults whose money filled their sizeable coffers) behave as they wish could put those same coffers at risk. At the same time, you see a political power being consolidated in the hands of people who push an agenda of "morality" that is completely at odds with the actual sentiments of the People. And so you see a systematic attack on the rights of students by their own colleges -- stuff like the cancellation of Yale's traditional nude Olympics and a national crackdown on the benign Greek system. During my time at Indiana University -- a university which cracked down on all students when they received national attention for those students having a good time -- there was a policy of encouraging professors to schedule more required classes on Friday in order to prevent students from keeping their Fridays free for Thrusday night recovery!

And then, this week, I read about the University of Wisconsion, of all things, strong-arming the local bars into eliminating weekend drink specials to keep students from exercising their legal right to drink. Keep in mind that things like 'minor consumption', 'public intoxication', and 'driving while intoxicated' are already quite illegal.

A few UW students decided that it was time to push back. They sued the bars (all of which caved to the University's protection racket) for colluding to fix prices. If the students action is successful, it would entitle all students who bought drinks after specials were eliminated to triple damages; which is to say that if you bought 4 beers a week at $4 each for 2 months under this policy and they used to be $1.50, those bars would then owe you $240.

I for one hope the students win and keep winning. I hope they use the money to combat not just the spineless bar owners, but power-hungry authoritarian universities across the country. Of course, they'll probably spend their windfall on beer, but that's their damn right, which is the whole point.

While doing some research, I came across this cool site devoted to 80s movies. Have a look; it's rad.

Wow. You've got to see this.

I really hope that what my friend Chris Miller told me about the Demos picking Kerry as a fall-guy so they can run Hillary unopposed in 2008 is a lie, just like that one there from Secretary of Warmongering Donald Rumsfeld.

In the last two days, I've seen two movies that are very similar and yet very different.

50 First Dates and Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind are both movies which deal with the strange intersection between love and memory; both feature characters who meet and fall in love for the first time and then must do it all over again, both sets of lovers meet across a cafe room over cups of coffee, and both movies use analog recordings to connect their characters back to their long forgotten memories.

And, right about there, the similarities end. Though they gaze into the same abyss, First Dates finds laughs punctuated with some serious moments, while Eternal Sunshine finds deadly seriousness occasionally interrupted by some very funny and bizarre moments. One is written by the extremely talented sub-genius Charlie Kaufman, while the other is written by someone whose name I don't even care to know. One is a beautiful, complicated, realistic fantasy while the other is a romantic comedy featuring Rob Schnieder in a supporting role.

Of course, there is another similarity which I neglected to mention: both films feature established star actors acting against type. In Dates, Adam Sandler loses the vicious edge he usually has and plays his character sweetly understated. In Sunshine, Jim Carrey likewise ditches the slapstick humour, but he also (wisely) loses the hammy mugging that plagued some other 'serious' Carrey films.

I am not ashamed to admit that both films nearly brought me to tears, though I am ashamed to admit which one came closer. While 50 First Dates is effectively charming, it's a ham-fisted cheater; it's empty calories, though, to be honest, you could do worse.

On the other hand, Eternal Sunshine is a thought-provoking exploration of love and loss and how those two things are one and the same. Ultimately, it has something important to say about what it means to be a human being. If there's another film that treads on this sort of ground, I can't think of one. That's a lie, of course, because there's Solaris. So I can think of one, but I'd rather not remember it.

I have alot of ideas. In fact, I consider myself to be an idea man, which is why I don't have a job. Some of my ideas are for creative endeavors; movie scripts, novels, or the occasional blog entry. These things are kind of ephemeral and transitory, so I had taken to writing them down in a little spiral notebook.

However, the other day I had an idea (now lost) I was looking for my idea notebook and I could not find it. I misplace things all the time, so I didn't really think much of it. A day or so later, I'm emptying my laundry out of the dryer when I notice a few crumpled sheets of paper.

Receipts, I figured. But then I noticed a few more. And then a few more. And more. Approximately 80 little paper wads, each the size of a spitball that you would fire from one of those enormous Pixie Stix tubes. That's when the horror set in: I had washed my notebook and destroyed it and all my precious ideas.

Most of the ideas I think I can remember. But I'm pretty sure that I had a few brilliant ones that are lost to the ages.