Help make Heavy Nova a reality

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Heavy Nova

Last year, me and a buddy climbed into my car and drove in excess of one hundred miles through one of the biggest dust storms I have ever witnessed to see a low-budget zombie movie. I didn’t have the highest of hopes, as I’ve seen a fair number of irredeemably bad zombie movies in my day. What we saw when we finally settled down in the theater completely blew me away. With a thousand bucks and a prayer, these guys (led by the brilliant Peter Leon) put together a zombie movie that was low budget, funny, and clever.

After that film was completed, Peter Leon and J. Patrick Ohlde moved on to their next film. This one was a comedy that centered on underground boxing. I wasn’t sure what I’d think of it, as I don’t give a holy shit about boxing. But those crazy fellows came up with L.A. Underground.

And now the time has come again. Peter Leon and friends want to film Heavy Nova. Here’s what they have to say about it:

So they need your help. Head over to their Kickstarter page and donate a couple of bucks. These are a couple guys living the dream, making art for the sake of the art itself. They’re 83% funded and there are just ten days left to help them out. Give until it hurts.

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hfs+ ate my baby

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SAMSUNGI love my Xbox 360. It is a fine machine. With it, I have killed many a zombie, helped Scott Pilgrim defeat all of Ramona’s evil exes, and learned to play a number of Nirvana songs on my guitar. The pièce de résistance, though, is the Xbox’s ability to be a super awesome media center. I like that I can have any number of terrible horror movies on an external drive and play them at will. It’s like a Netflix that’s populated exclusively with straight-to-video horror. Oh, wait…

There is one catch, though. The formatting of the drive is funny. I usually keep it in FAT32 format, because that’s the most universal. I ran into a problem recently, though. With a FAT32 drive, the Xbox can only play files up to 2GB in size. Lame, right?

There are two accepted solutions to this problem: buy a proprietary Xbox hard drive (yeah, like that’s going to happen) or format the existing drive as hfs+. This struck me as odd, as hfs+ is a Mac format (and the Xbox is a Microsoft product). But whatevs, right? It’s a no-brainer. I plugged the drive into my Linux machine, fired up GParted, created a new partition and… nothing. Unfortunately, hfs+ was not an option.

Hmm. I looked into it and found that I could make hfs+ an option by installing the package “hfsprogs.” I did it and, in a rare instance of things going just right, it suddenly became available. I formatted the drive, dragged my >2GB movie onto it and plugged it in to the Xbox.

Only to find that the Xbox didn’t support the .mkv video format. So I reformatted the video as .avi and tried to drag it onto the drive. But no luck. All of a sudden, it was read-only. And then, as if that wasn’t enough, every time I plugged it in, it would flash all kinds of rude errors at me. So I reformatted it as FAT32 to see if it was an issue with the “hfsprogs” package. The FAT32 drive wouldn’t mount, either. And neither would any flash drive currently occupying space in my house.Screenshot from 2013-01-08 20:07:55

I was puzzled. I searched the Ubuntu discussion boards for hours trying to find even a hint of solution, but came up with nothing. So I had a conversation with my friend Johnny, the Linux guru over at Pensive Penguin. He suggested that my Ubuntu system might be storing some remnant of the hfs+ debacle in a file somewhere. I chewed on that thought for a while, even though it tasted foul. I had no idea which file might be the culprit. And there are a lot of them.

I googled some things, trying to find the missing piece of the puzzle that would turn Johnny’s suggestion into something I could actually do. I messed with the disk check utility, but that didn’t do anything. Then I remembered that Johnny had said that it might have something to do with a data cache of sorts (well, that’s what I took from what he said, at least) surrounding the mounting of the usb drive, that hfs+ whore. Not knowing exactly what to do, I decided to delete the mount point from the command line. I rebooted the computer and plugged my drive in.

It still didn’t work. In fact, the error it gave me was even more unpleasant, going on and on about superblocks and sleeping with my sister, and….superblocks? I’d never heard of those before. I did some googling about errors concerning superblocks and was directed to a system file called “/etc/fstab” (pictured above) that does some things with drive mounts. I opened it up and saw, right there, what Johnny was talking about- the darned thing was forcing my flash drive to mount like the computer’s hard drive as an hfs+ partition, which Linux doesn’t support.

So I put a stop (#) in front of it, saved the file, and my computer is back to normal. I can use my drives again. The lesson to take away here, I think, is that no horror movie’s quality gets too degraded by shrinking it to less than 2GB.

Samurai vs. Robo-Dick

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Hey, ya’ll! Just in time for the holidays, your favorite writer and mine, Steve Lowe, has released two new books: Samurai vs. Robo-Dick and Mio Padre, il Tumore. Both are available on Kindle at this very moment. Samurai vs. Robo-Dick will be released in paperback in the days to come. Heh. Mio Padre, il Tumore is free to download for a limited time. Here’s the lowdown:

Samurai vs. Robo-Dick

It’s been a few weeks since Benson returned to his parents’ home in the idyllic gated community of Grand Acres. He hasn’t seen them since. Ever since locking himself in the house with his supply of junk food and pot, he hasn’t seen much of anyone. When he’s finally coerced from the house and joins an ominous neighborhood group know as the Brown Shirts, Benson realizes things in Grand Acres aren’t nearly as tranquil as he thought. Even worse, there’s a samurai on the loose who is settling grudges in very violent ways.

Mio Padre, il Tumore

Born of radiation exposure on the set of The Conqueror, the worst film ever made, the stomach tumor that killed John Wayne lived on. It found a home in a new body and became Lucchesi, Northern Italy’s top bomb technician, a man loved by women and despised by men in equal measure. After an attempt on his life and years spent in hiding, Lucchesi must return to America to protect his only son, Vincenzo, from the shadows of his past, and to uncover the explosive secret hidden inside the World’s Largest Egg.

Get your hands on these now, before the world ends. If they’re anywhere near as good as King of the Perverts, Muscle Memory, and the hot, hot, hot Wolves Dressed as Men, these books will soon be the talk of the church book group!

Hipster Librarian v. Windows Boot Error

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Imagine this: after a long day of typing/shopping/dowloading/whatever, you decide it’s time for bed. You get a little notification on your computer that says the machine will have to be restarted in order to install automatically downloaded updates. You dutifully shut it down and go to sleep. When you wake up the next morning and stumble bleary-eyed to your computer so that you can check the weather and avoid flinging your hand out the window in an effort to ascertain the temperature, the thing won’t turn on. All you get is a black screen with “Windows Error Recovery” at the top. If you choose “Launch Startup Repair (Recommended),” you go into a boot loop. If you choose “Start Windows Normally,” you go to a blank black screen.

When this happened to a friend, I was eager to try my hand at fixing it. So I picked up his laptop, did some research on the issue, and dove in. Here’s what I found:

This type of error is not uncommon. It can hit any computer that comes pre-installed with Windows. So, in all likelihood, it applies to you, whoever you are. Windows pushes out a ton of updates all the time ranging from security patches to software updates. Any one of these updates has the potential to seriously mess up your machine. Every time these system updates are pushed out (which happens monthly), a bunch of computers crash. This is because the OEM Windows installs have specs that are tied to the machines they inhabit, and Windows isn’t going to test their updates on every machine that has ever come stock with Windows. Unfortunate, eh?

The first thing I did before mucking about with the system was make a full backup of my friend’s data. Luckily, I was able to boot into safe mode by holding down F8 at startup. If that doesn’t work for you, I recommend doing a live install of a lightweight Linux distribution, such as Knoppix. That will give you access to the filesystem. From there, it’s as simple as dragging and dropping the files to portable storage. I recommend you do the same. I’ll wait.

After that, I downloaded a fresh copy of Windows and burned it to a disc. You can download official copies of the Windows ISO files here. Once you have the right one (check your documentation to see if you need the 32 or 64 bit version), burn it to a DVD or USB drive. I recommend using the official Windows 7 USB/DVD tool. It just makes things easier. I’ll tell you why in a moment.

A full system disc has a host of repair options on it. I ran all of them. None of them worked. The hardware was fully functional and the memory was good. The problem had to be with Windows itself. I booted back into Safe Mode and attempted to restore the system to a time when it was fully functional. And here’s where I go off about how bad Windows is.

I hate Windows. Automatic updates are recommended and enabled by default. These things have the potential to break your computer, as happened in this case. What’s worse? Each of those updates creates a new restore point. I had six restore points available to me, all stemming back to November 13, 2012 when the update was first rolled out. The problem? The boot error evidently resulted from the earliest update. So I could only restore the machine to an earlier broken version!

So that meant that I had to do a fresh install of the operating system. Luckily, I already had the data backed up and had a system DVD for recovery purposes. I was ready to go, if a bit annoyed that I had to wipe all the installed programs from the machine. I popped my fresh Windows 7 disc in the drive and clicked “Install.” Very quickly, I was warned that I was missing a driver for the CD/DVD drive. Without that driver, I couldn’t continue. And here’s where I go off about how awful Microsoft is.

To make a long story short, I wasn’t missing any driver. The official ISO I downloaded was corrupt. I discovered this by doing a hash check and comparing the file I downloaded with the hashes of ISOs known to be functional. That sounds complicated, yes, but it was fairly easy to ascertain. For one, the ISO I had was .48GB smaller in size than the one I had selected to download. That’s a lot of missing data. The USB/DVD tool mentioned above won’t work with a corrupted ISO, so if it won’t copy the files to your USB or DVD, your file is probably corrupted. Simple, but frustrating. It takes a couple hours to download one of those ISOs. I did it twice (both corrupted) before giving up and just torrenting the file. But I have successfully gotten good ISOs from the official site before. Your mileage may vary. I wish Microsoft would take more care in this aspect of their service. If their product worked correctly, these files wouldn’t even be necessary. But since it doesn’t, they are and they should make them more accessible.

Okay, so I created a good bootable ISO and went through the install process. Everything went nice and smooth. I transferred the data back onto the machine and everything is fully operational. It was just a pain to get there.

So, if this happens to you:

***Update: Please see the comments for an alternative approach to this problem that may allow you to skip a full reinstall.

1. Back up your data.
2. Download and burn an ISO of Windows 7 and try the repair tools.
3. If that doesn’t work, boot into Safe Mode and try to do a system restore.
4. If that doesn’t work, do a clean install.

Lastly, if your computer came with Windows pre-installed (which is most of them), consider turning off automatic updates. That way you can do research ahead of time to determine whether or not the update would be disasterous to your specific computer model. The security patches come out the second Tuesday of every month. Just wait until Wednesday and google your computer model and “update crash.”

If you have read to this point, you probably happened across this post through a Google search. I hope it helps. Understand, though, that I am not responsible if your attempt to duplicate my efforts results in things not working. 🙂

your Thanksgiving movie list

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This one’s really easy, since there are only two Thanksgiving horror movies that I am aware of:

1. ThanksKilling

Is it a great movie? No. Is it a good movie? No, not really. Is it passable? Sigh. No. But it is a movie about a killer turkey. I think I am in the minority on this one, as even people who are into B horror think it’s an abominable film. But forget them, right?

So there’s this tiny little totem pole and a dog pisses on it, which releases a killer turkey. The turkey is ancient and evil and foulmouthed and was conjured by some racist caricature of a Native American. The turkey does its best to kill a car full of college students who have returned to their hometown for Thanksgiving break. There’s a football player, a slut, a nerd, and a girl who serves as the jock’s love interest.

Key things to know:

a) The turkey wears the not-a-slut’s father’s face as a mask and tricks everyone.
b) The turkey does, in fact, fornicate with the slut.
c) The turkey is very nearly killed, but vows to return…in space.

2. ThanksKilling 3

Apparently “…in space” was a bit too hard for them to pull off. But I admire the fact they weren’t willing to let a missing sequel hold them back.

Okay, I’ll admit that I haven’t seen this one yet. But that’s only because I’m reluctant to pay money for something as intangible as an Amazon Instant Video copy of anything. But maybe you don’t have the same reservations? It looks awesome, right? Killer turkey?

I read the plot synopsis and don’t have a clear enough understanding of the events to be able to write about it here. Google it if you will. I’m sure there’s a trailer. I’d do it for you, but I’ve got two bottles of cough syrup to drink through a crazy straw.

the myth of black racism

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On November 18, 1991, Billboard Magazine released an editorial condemning Ice Cube’s album, Death Certificate, as racist. Timothy White, Billboard’s editor-in-chief, accused Ice Cube of “racism, anti-Semitism and hate-mongering stupidity.”

I was vaguely aware of the allegations of racism that had been pointed at Ice Cube. When I started listening to his music a few short months ago, I read and re-read the Wikipedia entries on the guy. I didn’t get it. Nothing I heard in his lyrics suggested anything inappropriate. Sure, his stuff is filled with violence and profanity, but that’s the lifestyle he’s trying to give voice to. When you’re a part of a minority that’s constantly held down, you’re bound to develop some anger.

Today, for the first time, I listened to the Ice Cube track “No Vaseline,” which is Death Certificate‘ s closer. In the song he includes lines such as “cuz you let a Jew break up my crew” and “Cuz you can’t be the Nigga 4 Life crew/ with a white Jew tellin’ you what to do.” There are other instances, of course, but that’s hardly the point.

I spoke briefly to a friend about this and she was taken aback. I informed her of the accusations (which she was unaware of) and that I could kind of see the point. I told her about the singling out of white Jews and then lamented a bit on the song “Cave Bitch,” from 1993’s Lethal Injection. She looked more than a little annoyed by the thought. Her response was simple: “Talk to someone who’s been pulled over for D.W.B. (driving while black) and see what they have to say about it.”

And that’s the more honest way of looking at it. It’s a funny world we live in when white folks have the right to get upset about two (mostly inoffensive) lines in a rap song. It’s like Ice Cube says in “When Will They Shoot?”: “Callin’ me an African-American/like everything is fair again.” The political correctness we enjoy today doesn’t do anything to change the past. We’ve done everything we can to forget our own history. “African American” is a term that helps white people disconnect from the injustices done unto a people. We did the same thing with “Native Americans,” who were only exploited back when they were “Indians.” Adoption of the term by the black community doesn’t change this.

It is more telling, I think, what Billboard did not attack Ice Cube for. The man’s lyrics are overflowing with misogyny. He does, after all, spell “‘girl’ with a ‘b.'” He makes a whole lot of derogatory statements about homosexuality. And, for all his talk about white men, he is most brutal towards members of his own race, most notably when he’s “takin’ niggaz out with a flurry of buckshot” and “knockin’ niggaz out tha box, daily.”

White men have a problem with Ice Cube when he directs his anger toward white men. They could not care less about the other minority groups he attacks. When they find themselves in the crosshairs, things change.

But that part’s funny in a sick way. According to the FBI’s 2010 statistics, a mere 18.4% of racially motivated crimes were committed by blacks. Compare that to the 58.6% of hate crimes committed by whites. And, if you really want to get down to it. Of the hate crimes committed by all races, a whopping 0.03% involved rape or murder. And 2.1% involved arson (which was one of the specific allegations made by Billboard). Those stats suck if you’re in that 0.03% minority, but for the rest of the 99.97% of America, those odds at surviving an encounter with a black person are pretty good. It seems that Ice Cube’s AK usage is somewhat less frequent than his songs would have us believe.

On the other hand, according to the Southern Poverty Law Center, gays, as a group, are 41.5 times more likely to be targeted by hate crime. 25% of emergency room visits by women are the result of domestic violence. Of everyone in contemporary America, the white man is, by far, the safest.

I can’t help but think that singling out Ice Cube for “racism, anti-Semitism and hate-mongering stupidity” in relation to the white man without also pointing out the offenses done unto these other groups is, in itself, racist and hate-mongering. Being a white man in America seems to come with an inalienable right to privilege. It seems mad to me to that a black man can be publicly labeled as racist by a majority group with a long and bloody history of subjugation of other races. As Time Magazine so aptly pointed out in 1993, “in a society where teens routinely pack illegal weapons, blaming the disturbance on song lyrics seems to miss the point.” Flinging the blame at a genre of music born of social injustice for the simple crime of telling it how it is?

That’s not right.

The final word, I think is best expressed, by a white guy, a couple of Jews, and a Mexican:

On Spaced

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One of my favorite things about the rapid evolution of technology is the sheer amount of crap it has eliminated from my life. My cell phone, for example, is a hyperfunctional device that offers me a wealth of resources above and beyond those of the first phone line I ever paid for. In addition to the telephone service, it stores my contacts, allows me to access my home computer files, and grants me access to the Internet. I have no need for the single-purpose land line. Essentially, it is a cool little computer I can keep in my pocket that indulges me on those rare occasions when I want (or need) to hear the voice of another living being. Spotify has kept me from having having to access a locally stored mp3 and has effectively rendered CDs (in my life, anyway) obsolete. And, although we have had our problems, Netflix has done the same thing to DVDs.

I am glad that I no longer have any reason to pay for cable. For me, it is a huge waste of money. I rarely watch television and, when I do, my tastes seldom align with whatever is available for viewing. Netflix streaming, on the other hand, is there when I need it and is significantly cheaper. It is a service I like.

That said, there is one very obvious advantage that cable (or any kind of television programming, really) has over Netflix: mindless, middle of the night channel flipping. I will confess, I don’t care for the process myself. And it is a process. I’ve never enjoyed being simultaneously bored, lazy, and unable to sleep. All the times in my life that I’ve done this, I’ve been looking for that perfect something. And it’s easier to find that something with cable. When using Netflix, there is a lot of effort involved when choosing something to watch. From the interface on your TV, you have to search for something (or browse a limited selection of suggested content), and then wait for it to buffer before you can decide it’s garbage and move on to the next thing. Cable, on the other hand, is instantaneous and easy- press a button and it’s gone.

I am writing this as I watch Spaced, a show I took a chance on a few weeks ago. I don’t know that I’ve ever told anyone I watch it. In its way, my viewing of it is too sacred for that. Allow me to explain.

There is a special relationship between us and the television shows we watch alone in the middle of the night. In my case, they don’t typically reflect the taste and identity I project in the harsh light of day. Back when I had cable, my middle of the night obsessions included News Radio, Happy Days, and some show I never knew the name of that involved following a specific set of high school kids through their daily lives with a lot of Bouncing Souls on the soundtrack. All of these shows were exclusive to the late night line up at the times I viewed them. And, once discovered, I looked forward to watching them every night, often at the expense of sleep. I’d show up bleary-eyed to my first hour trig class not because I’d been out drinking and fornicating all night, but because I’d watched Richie Cunningham trying to talk to girls at Al’s.

You can’t talk to other people about these shows. I can’t show up to work on Monday morning and carry on about what happened on the most recent episode of Spaced. No one could possibly care. For one, it’s a somewhat obscure British show. For two, it’s old.

And that’s kind of cool. If we’re doing it right, our late night viewing habits are distinctly us. We’re not being pressured by the sway of timeliness or popularity. We’re not watching something to stay in the loop. Instead, we’re communing with a relatively low brow art form on our own terms. I don’t really know what Spaced is about. There are some slackers doing things. There are a lot of nerdy references I don’t get. It may be a really smart show. But if it is, that is lost on me.

There is something about my sleepy brain that makes me enjoy it. I sit here, I giggle, and my mind wanders. The show has given me many ideas that relate to my writing and my work. I think it has to do with the lack of pressure, my willingness to allow my mind to go where it needs to, and the creative energy that went into making the show. It’s pretty amazing.

Does any of that make any sense? If not, I apologize. I’m only half paying attention. Tim just lost Daisy’s dog.

I feel this sense of wonderment that I found this show without flipping through channels. I wonder if the act of flipping itself is irrelevant. Do these shows just find us when we need them to? It’s a comforting thought.

Or maybe I just need to go to sleep.

real-life Kick Ass comes to Phoenix, invites speculation

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When you live in Phoenix, don’t have a gym membership, and still have a desire to remain physically active in the summer, there are certain concessions you have to make in regard to exercise. I typically do my exercising at night, opting to run through the often sketchy, and sometimes scary, streets instead of facing the prospect of an hour in blazing sun and 112 degree heat. In my outings, I’ve been heckled my strippers and hooligans, nearly hit by cars, confronted by unleashed dogs, and, in one particularly memorable incident, chased down the street by a homeless man in a skirt.

In order to give myself the illusion of safety, I carry a Kubotan whenever I head out of the house. It is a four inch metal implement with a tapered, but blunt, tip and two thinner prongs. It is light and fits nicely in my hand. In the event I am attacked en route, I can use the tool to gouge out eyes, permanently damage joints, and break bones so that I can get away safely. I have never had to use the Kubotan (which was a gift from a friend after hearing about my altercation with a pit bull one fateful evening) and hope to never have to. Primarily because I’m not sure if I could.

Getting jumped by strangers in a dark urban environment is pretty well engrained as a worst fear in our national consciousness. When we walk by ourselves after dark and suddenly get spooked, we’re immediately on the lookout for people in the shadows or pounding footsteps. The people we pass on the sidewalk, out of nowhere, become potential rapists and murderers instead of people, like us, who are just trying to get where they’re going.

At work a few days ago, it came to my attention that there was an accident in the intersection in front of our building. Looking from the vantage point of the high rise, it appeared that the accident involved at least one light rail train. Traffic was backed up in four directions, and there was speculation in the cube farm that a pedestrian had been hit by the train. Curious, I started frantically googling the details of the accident. I could find nothing related to what was happening outside (which I later learned involved a driver trying to race past the train in order to make a turn- profoundly stupid idea), every search I performed brought this video as the top result:

So I watched it. What you see here is an incident on the light rail that just happens to be along my typical running route. Two men attack a third man in the train car, backing him into a corner as they pound away. The occupants of the train spread apart and let this occur- until a nerdy vigilante with a samurai sword intervenes. As soon as the light glints off of his unsheathed weapon, the assailants flee. The day is saved and all is well.

The video went viral, of course: Kick Ass comes to Phoenix. Here we have this Dungeons-and-Dragons-looking geek chasing away a couple of criminals. He is later interviewed by the news and explains the five-step plan he’d made (because that’s just how he does things) for disemboweling the thugs if they had not run away. Immediately, speculation starts to fly about how the whole thing is a hoax, with martial arts experts debunking his stance and pose. He is either a fake or a hero, but nothing in between.

I must have watched this video thirty times. If the fellow being attacked is an actor, he deserves an Oscar. Kick Ass? I have no idea. He looked more like Jack Ass on the news, with his obsession over Japanese culture and inflation of his own personal mythos. He could very well be a liar. Or he could be telling the truth. I have no idea.

Let’s assume for a moment that it is true. If you visit YouTube, you can find any number of public fistfights that people have recorded with cell phones and uploaded to the Internet. These videos have thousands of views. My problem is with the camera man. The news is bad enough. If I watched that garbage, I’d probably be scared walking into my own front yard. But, as it is, I take my chances in the streets because I have some kind of inherent trust that my fellow citizens do not mean me any harm. And, what’s more, would come to my aid if I found myself in trouble.

This video does two things: it shows that I am correct and someone might very well step in and help me if I was being attacked, and it shows that a whole lot of people probably wouldn’t. To make things worse, there is a good chance that someone would not only watch me be assaulted, but also film my assault for public consumption.

This is your moment of Zen.

Hipster Librarian v. MacBook Kernal Panic

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An interesting thing happened to my wife yesterday. She was working on her Macbook when the power cord happened to disengage, turning off her computer (her battery has been shot for a while, so this is a fairly common occurrence). When she plugged it in and powered back on, her computer stopped at the splash screen, threw up a prohibitory sign, and eventually rebooted. It was a sick loop.

A brief bit of research revealed this problem as a variation of kernal panic (the Windows equivalent is the Blue Screen of Death, which I’m intimately familiar with). I don’t use a Mac. This was new to me. And kind of exciting.

First, I tried booting into safe mode. It didn’t work. Then I tried resetting PRAM. Nothing.

There was clearly some kind of disk error going on. I don’t know if a system file became corrupt (or deleted) or a piece of hardware is failing. My primary focus became saving the contents of the hard drive.

Linux to the rescue. Using my Linux machine, I created a live CD of the Knoppix distro, which is a simple operating system with a nice user interface that has a lot of recovery features built in. I started the computer and put the live CD in the drive. After the boot chime, I held down the “option” button to get to the boot screen. I chose to boot from the live CD instead of the Mac hard drive. Knoppix gave me unfettered access to all the Mac’s saved files, which I was able to copy to portable storage.

Hard drive content saved. Stage one complete.

My next goal was to run the Mac native recovery tool. Since I couldn’t get there by normal means (through safe mode or the boot screen), I decided to create an OSX install disc. I downloaded a copy of Snow Leopard, created a bootable USB from the .dmg file using TransMac (two week free trial), plugged it in, and fired up the machine. I, again, held down “option” to get to the boot screen, but this time opted to boot the new OSX installer.

This allowed me to run a disk repair on the hard drive. While it did, in fact, discover a couple of errors, this did not solve the problem. After rebooting, the computer was still unable to boot from the hard drive.

So, as a last resort, I booted back into the OSX installer, reformatted the drive, and did a clean install of Snow Leopard.

Which worked.

If you have read to this point, you probably happened across this post through a Google search. I hope it helps. Understand, though, that I am not a Mac user and am not responsible if your attempt to duplicate my efforts ruins your computer. 🙂

Evil Dead Remake (2013)

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So, the trailer for the new Evil Dead remake has been released:

Creepy, no? Watching this, I can’t help but get excited. Of course, that ever-present nagging voice is still there. The one that says, “Don’t you remember Friday the 13th? Nightmare on Elm Street? Texas Chainsaw Massacre? This is your favorite fucking movie they’re toying with! It’s going to be worse!”

But fuck that voice. I’ve been reading rumors about this movie for years. Bruce Campbell has endorsed it. Sam Raimi has endorsed it. I’m going to give it a shot.

So the deal is that this new movie combines elements of the first two in the original trilogy and adds a bit to it. So we’re not going to be dealing with a shot-by-shot reimagining. It is very clear that this movie isn’t intended to be even remotely funny. So we’ll see. Looks super gory and gritty.

Watching the trailer, there’s plenty of stuff from the original. All the important stuff, anyway. Chainsaw, evil trees, Necronomicon (though, admittedly, the book itself doesn’t look nearly as cool), etc. The crisp clear footage adds a little something on its own, a far cry from the 16mm graininess of the 1983 film. If I knew anything about the filming process, I’d say it here. But I can say that clean filming combined with the grossness of the scenes (if it’s all done right) has always impressed me. We’ll see, we’ll see, we’ll see.

Crosses fingers.

For reference, here’s the trailer from the original: