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I watched the new Casino Royale over the weekend and enjoyed it. It's nothing that deep, but it's well done and a good watch. Definitely the best Bond flick in years. Of course, it helps that they're just rehashing the original book again, but it seems this is the case the days with your Batman Begins, and Superman Returns, not to mention all the TV shows that are made in to films. Despite the fact the are very few original ideas in Hollywood these days, at least a good number of these film rehashes are good to watch.       Besides the rather ridiculous product placement throughout the film, the one thing that really cracked me up was their portrayal of Montenegro (or Crna Gora to those who know any Slavic language.) You see James and Vesper coming in on this very nice train to Montenegro. It's the kind of thing you'd maybe see in France or Germany. It is not the kind of thing you'd see in this Balkan nation. Croatia and Slovenia have just gotten a few new and fast trains. I doubt they have made their way this far south yet, since there aren't even that many rail lines in Montenegro. And where are they going? Podgorica, the capital? None of this is really explained of course because they were really shooting in the Czech Republic. This naturally explains that overhead shot of the train with all of the lush woodlands.       In truth, Montenegro is a beautiful country, but it is a rough kind of beautiful. The landscape is incredibly rugged and tough. Supposedly, this provides the backbone for the people as well, who take a good deal of pride in living there. I'm rather surprised that they didn't film it there as I'm sure it would have been a good deal cheaper and more authentic than the Czech Republic. Of course, maybe they felt it would give a bad association and at the time of principal photography, they were still part of Serbia. Anyways, just a funny thing.

For those who don't know, there is a Google search function - link: that will help to find out what sites link to a website. So, for this site, you'd type in link:www.hudin.com and get the list. The problem is, this is not list. It tells next to nothing.       Maybe I'm doing something wrong (not according to Google though) but the actual list of links back to this site is somewhere around 40-50 in any given month. For another site I maintain, Belden Place, doing this type of a Google search will net only 10 or less results, when there are at least 200 sites that backlink. What gives? Why doesn't this work? I'm kinda at a loss, since Google will more than likely have at least the bulk of this information, right? I could see being 60-75% accurate, but as it is, they sem to be somewhere around 10-25% accurate in their listing. Plus, the listings will often have your own site linking back to itself.       Maybe they're just not bothering, since they have Google Analytics now or, well, I just don't know. It all just goes to show that you have to have your own logs if you really want to know what's going on. If you don't, get the aforementioned Analytics, or if you run your own server, dig in to AWStats. Despite all of Google's slickness, I think that AWStats is still the better bedfellow when it comes to your server stats.

I was in the market for a glass teapot. They're kinda cool and let you see the tea that you're about to drink as it steeps. Plus, they tend to have pretty modern designs, since according to the 1980's, everything in the future will be made of glass.       Once I got to looking around, there was one that kept popping up. It's made by a company called Bodum. What they offered seemed pretty interesting. Decent lines and a good shape to their pots (as well as other things that they make). The only catch is that everything appears to be made in China. Have you ever heard of the Chinese being known for their glassworking abilities? No, neither have I. Clay sure, but glass, no way.       All of this points to the fact that the low price you're paying for this item is because it is sweatshop made and made poorly. A quick trip down to William-Sonoma readily proved this. The manufacturing quality was chintzy. I doubt it would last more than a few months at best and the glass quality was terrible (my father made high-end glass).       Given that this one was out, I had a hard time finding another one that I liked the look of and wasn't made in 3rd world countries. It seems we have lost the secrets of glass manfacturing in this country, so that was gone as well. But what was not gone, was Europe.       I ended up finding at this company, a pot called Trendglas made by a company called Jenaer. This is a German company. I bought it and it's great. A nice look and while I have no idea as to the actual conditions it was made in, in Germany, I know that it was not made in a Third World spot in Asia. There's some comfort in that. I wish I could have bought from the US, but there were just no options. Such is the case, when you completely dismantle your craft base.

I really don't like the Academy of Art. For those that know me, this is not news news. My reasons are varied, but they tend to revolve around the fact that it's a pretty lame college that costs a lot and does nothing to get you a job. The worst part is that their recruiting and marketing folks paint this picture that you're going to be able to work your dream job in art once you go there. Knowing firsthand how incredibly tough it is to make a living as an artist, from having parents who are artists, it disgusts me to see how this place is billed.       So, why all the students? Simple. You've got a kid who is running around sewing zippers on their jeans, dressing in black, maybe dying their hair, and thinks they're an artist, what else are you going to do with them? Send them to community college to prove that they have the mettle to make it? Nah... why do that when there is a $20,000+ (that's just tuition) place that'd love to have 'em. It's true, the Academy does see some truly gifted artists come through their doors, but I defer to my community college line, in that they'd do just as well there and in reality receive a much better education.       Okay, so why else are they bad and why the 'herpes' moniker? Once again, simple. They spread their buildings around the city like an STD. You know where they are too, because everywhere gets the black and tan paint job. Such is the case on my street in San Francisco. There were no AoA buildings here, when I moved in a couple years ago and then about six months later, they bought an old hotel and converted it in to a dorm. Yip. Pee. A bunch of turdlings who have parents footing their exorbitant bills to live int he City, running around without a care in their world, because they're artists. The fact that most really successful artists have had to deal with a great deal of hardship to create what they have gets lost on these kids.       And now, I've just learned that the venerable Commodore Hotel at 825 Sutter Street has been bought by the Art Academy! Crap! Crap! Crap! Whether it's just classrooms or god forbid another dorm, it doesn't matter. More black and tan is coming. It's getting pretty ridiculous and this amid other reasons will probably be the thing that finally pushes me out of the downtown triangle because I just can't stomach this group. Why is that? You ever heard of anyone wanting to live within a four block radius of a college campus when they're not in college? No, nobody does. If they do, they need help.       My only hope is that this never ending spread of property investment and spending will end with the collapse of this joke of a school. They seem to base their constant buying on the fact that there is a constantly growing number of idiots who are going to spend dumbenning amounts of money on a cracker jack school. Thankfully, this is not the case and I for one will be ready to toast the demise of this sham factory when that day does hopefully come. Why the Commodore? Why?!!

Right about now, you're probably wondering, "Why oh why did I eat that third slice of pie?" Maybe not. But as is usually the case, most folks start to think about the pounds this time of year. I know that I've put on a couple in recent weeks, but that's mostly due to this damned cold. It's hard to have a coughing fit while working the eliptical.       Finally though, I have made it to the gym again and some of the people I see there crack my ass up. One such fellow was this guy who had a bit of a belly and after every whatever-the-hell he was doing on some angled machine, he would do this little side to side dance thing. He was obviously in to his music and in to himself, since it was pretty funny looking. A lot like a Chris Katan "Mango" routine on SNL. But after a few of these, he would bop/dance over to the freeweights and do the same thing with them. It's like I was watching someone who did X before going down for a workout. Had there been a pacifier in his mouth, I wouldn't have been surprised.       I realize that we're all at the gym to look our best and be in shape and that some of us are in different stages of that quest, but if you're going to dance around, I'm going to notice and I'm probably going to laugh. The floor of the gym is no place for freeweight dancing, just as the sauna at the gym is place to bop in to naked. Wear a freakin' towel! I don't care what shape you're in. I have absolutely, positively, no interest in seeing another man naked when it doesn't have to be so. I'm not homophobic. I just find the general hairy, lumpiness of the male body pretty unappealing. Word.

After (or while) eating all of your turkey today, you should take a moment and think about how lucky we are; give thanks as it were. How lucky we are to have food and the internet and broadband so that we can watch stuff like this video of a man and his dog. Thank you internet!       Probably not the most graceful dismount for a week of Croatia, but hey, I was writing this while still being sick. Be thankful that's as good as it was.

Continued from November 21, 2006 ...Dubrovnik welcomed us to Dubrovnik quite a long time before we actually got into Dubrovnik, with signs announcing the city and all the attractions for what seemed like an hour prior to our arrival. But we knew for sure that we had arrived when we crossed a bridge that spanned the Rijeka Dubrovačka, this peculiar fresh water river that runs underground and suddenly punches out from the earth a little ways to the east to empty in to the Adriatic.       From there on, it was a slow descent past the ancient manors of town nobles long since dead and in to the Dubrovnik suburbs of Gruz and Lapad. For many, it is bound to be something of a let down because the bus station is very far from the old city that I had come to know in getting ready for the trip. Luckily, my friend Ivana was there waiting with a big smile as she laughed about the last time we had seen each other… on the eastern tower of Notre Dame in Paris. I asked if she had been waiting long and tried to express my frustration about the delay in the bus trip which was a little over an hour at that point. She simply shrugged and I realized it was something she had come to expect or at least not care so much about.       For others who weren't lucky enough to have a friend waiting, they were flocked upon by the ladies who were waiting at the station to rent rooms. The words, "in old city" were being said in three or four languages around me. One or two of them came up to me, but walked away discouraged when Ivana told them in Croatian that we were with her.       We hopped in to her little car that made me look like a seated camel and zipped off to the old city for a meal, some fantastic Croatian wine and the start of a lengthy stay in Dubrovnik.       This concludes the series. Hope you enjoyed it!

Continued from November 20, 2006 ...After endless stretches of the clear blue waters, I started to think, yes this is a nice sea, but wouldn't it be nice to see something else? As if to answer my question, we started to go a bit more inland, which took us from the glistening waters; to be shuttled along some of the most amazing farmlands I have even seen in my life just south of Ploče. There are these neat little rows of different crops growing next to each other at whatever angle someone felt would be good that day. It's a far cry from the large quilt-like patches of homogenous crops that we see growing across the US. It's a funny thing to think that this spot where the Neretva River forms a wetland delta used to be a massive source of malaria for the inhabitants, but is now one of the most fertile (and beautiful) areas in the whole country.       Pulling out of the Neretva delta, we ran parallel to the Peljesac Penninsula, eventually coming to the Bosnia Herzegovina border. As odd as it seems, there is this very small strip of the country that interjects into Croatia to grab a little bit of the coast, a bit to the north of Ston. Historically, I've been told by Croatian friends that this piece of land was given to the Ottoman Empire by the old city-state of Ragusa (which Dubrovnik was the capital of) in order to provide a buffer between them and the encroaching Venetians. How much truth there is to this, I've never been able to find out, although it sounds like the sensible kind of thing that the Ragusans would do. They were masters at maintaining independence for centuries despite being directly between the Ottomans and Venetians.       The border was nothing to worry about, since they checked our passports, were slightly bemused in seeing Americans, and let us on through to the 10-15 kilometers that the road runs through. We actually stopped in this little strip of land, and it was most certainly not in an official capacity. Apparently, the drivers used to pick up large piles of goods while in Bosnia Herzegovina because they got them at nearly 25% less than in Croatia due to the fact that there were no, or at the very least, were less taxes there. This explains why there were few markets in Neum, which was an otherwise barren area. We were delayed a good half hour by the drivers doing their shopping and going to multiple markets to get the best prices. It was annoying, but we had little choice. I'm sure that the temerity of the drivers was more than likely due to the fact that there were few of us on the bus at that point and they felt they could probably do as they pleased with little consequence. It turns out that in the years since my ride, the Croatian government has been cracking down on this by having police ride the buses at random. With a couple of cases of beer on board, the shopping was done and we passed back into Croatia, which was even less of an issue than passing in to BH...       Continued on November 22, 2006

Having ridden the American Greyhound line and various Amtrak connection buses that are one step away from soul-crushing in their perfunctory practicality, never would I have thought that a bus ride could be so beautiful, lulling, and inherently dangerous. These thoughts kept beating through my head as my traveling companion and I twisted down the Croatian version of California Highway 1, the E65 from Split to Dubrovnik.       Due to our ride from Zagreb to Split, we were a little cautious as to what bus line we picked. You see, after cruising along for about six of what was then an eight hour trip, the bus immediately pulled off to the side of the road somewhere within the vicinity of a major town called Knin. It heaved, sputtered, and died a rather sordid mechanical death right there in the middle of nowhere. In the flash of a second, a ball of flames erupted up the side of the bus, next to me. Naturally everyone ran off, they put out the fire, started tearing apart the bus and in a few hours, sent another one that was short a few seats which made for an uncomfortable ride for those who had been displaced by this exploding bus fiasco. Eventually though, we did arrive in Split and spent a few days there before venturing on to Dubrovnik.       Once done with Split and having departed the drab bus station, I'd have to say that the initial part of the ride is lovely. It twists and turns along the side of the Adriatic Sea, showing all the glimmering waters below. Occasionally, we'd stop in a smaller town along the way (like Omiš with its never-ending beach) to pick up more passengers or drop off some of the ones that were on board, but these were quick stops. Old stone homes were perched alongside new ones, as it is just about anywhere in Croatia. But, whatever their age, the homes, businesses, and old fortresses cling like nervous birds to the steep cliffs.       Bus drivers for these lines have a tendency to drive a bit maniacally and I'm sure it gets worse as the tourist season and coastal traffic moves into high gear. They will pass other cars on these narrow, steep roads. They will tailgate. They will curse beautiful strings of Slavic profanities in the general directions of slow drivers they feel who are not driving in a manner of which they approve. I highly recommend sitting on the side of the bus closest the mountainside if you're used to driving, or just don't feel as suicidal as the bus drivers. I say this because sitting on the side closest to the sea is much like flying. You feel as if you're hovering above the Adriatic and as romantic as that sounds, it can make you nauseous in very little time...       Continued on November 21, 2006

Pretty awesome really. I've been doing this for over three years and finally someone gets pissed at me. What did this girl get pissed at you may ask? Yesterday's griping about Tom Ammiano? Nope. Dreadlocks and being a white person with them. Will her torrent of profanity make me rethink my stance on how digustingly lame I find these things? No. Not one bit. In fact, her complete craze about how we have a lot of the same feelings on things (environment, anti-consumerism, etc.) and shame on me for not seeing how "good" dreads are makes me realize one more facet about dreadlocks; they're a religion. Yeah, that's right I said it. A religion. Sure, you could say it's wrapped up in this whole rastafarian thing, but actually the white folk that grow them have got their own thing going on and I'm sure incredibly, radically, wickedly stoked not to be part of it.