The guitar hook to the awful James Blunt song “You’re Beautiful” is the tune played at the end of “The Incredible Hulk” TV series.

At least Bob Marley made something cool when he ripped off The Banana Splits.

Maybe it’s just because I’ve been reading too many Apple-related blogs, but I think they really over-sold the whole Macworld expo this year. No doubt it’s a bigger deal if you aren’t stuck with just the exhibits-only pass, and you can see some of the conferences. But I was pretty underwhelmed.

After watching two sessions of Apple reps telling me stuff about Leopard and the iPhone that I already knew, I just wandered around booth after crowded booth of third-party developers who basically all had the same story: more information is available on our website. I got the distinct impression that you’re better off just staying home and looking at everything over the internets.

Even the people-watching wasn’t that interesting; I’m assuming that’s because all the Hitler Youth-style post-keynote fervor had died down since yesterday. There were still hordes of people crowding around the little iPhone altars (myself included), and that was somewhat comical. But apart from that you’re just left with a bunch of middle-aged hairy guys shambling through a convention hall looking for free stuff.

And in transit to and from the show, I realized I’m already feeling buyer’s remorse for something I won’t be able to get for another six months. The iPhone looks to be just as cool in real life as it was presented in the keynote. All seeing it “in person” gets you is confirmation that it wasn’t just some hard-coded demonstration, and a look at the actual screen of the device. (And it is a really nice screen; I can totally imagine watching a movie on it).

But there are some pretty big issues that are going to hit early adopters hard. Exclusivity with Cingular is still the big one. Especially since it’s so expensive and it requires the two-year contract. Anybody who tells you that $600 for a phone is “cheap” or even “reasonable” is just plain lying, but you do have to admit that the price is in line with the cost of most other first-version gadgets that do the same thing.

My biggest complaint of the moment, though, is that it’s a closed system. When I saw the “Widgets” icon in the demo, I guess I just imagined that you’d be able to develop your own little apps for the thing. The new version of OS X is going to include Dashcode for making widgets, so it just seems like it would be a natural. But Apple reps confirmed that it won’t be open to third-party development, just like the iPod isn’t. And it’s unlikely that this will change, because it’s definitely not in Cingular’s interest, and it’s not even in Apple’s interest — they want you to buy everything through iTunes. The only reason Apple would open it up would be out of altruism, and I think it’s pretty clear that’s just not what they’re about.

I never actually wrote an app for the Treo, but it was nice to know I could have. And I definitely downloaded a ton of stuff to run on the Treo. A lot of Treo users will tell you that their favorite apps are third-party ones. On the iPhone, it’s mitigated somewhat by the fact that it includes a fully-functional web browser, so you could conceivably set up a web app to do whatever you want — as long as you don’t mind paying the data-transfer fees every time you run the app, and you don’t mind having something that can’t access any of the data on your phone like address book entries or photos.

There are other issues that affect other people more than they would me; I don’t really care if it’s a 3G phone or not, for instance. Plus, there’s just the practical concerns: if you’re paying that much money for something you’re going to have in a pocket or thrown into a bag, you want it to be a lot more durable than Apple’s products are usually known for.

I’m sure that there will be a lot of improvements in version 2. I’m equally sure that I won’t be able to wait until version 2. Maybe that’s why Macworld didn’t impress me; pretty much everything there is something I’ve already seen and I’m already fated to buy. (Except for the iTV, which is something I was wanting to see for so long that by the time it was finally announced I’d already gotten tired of it. It seems kind of lame, actually).

It’d be cool if I could claim that I was completely unmoved by the Apple iPhone announcement. But I think we all know that’d be a lie, so I’m not even going to bother.

From the looks of it, they got everything right. It’s everything I was hoping to hear when they first started leaking rumors about the iPhone. In fact, it’s everything I imagined the Treo to be when I first heard about that, before it failed to deliver. I can still remember the first time I saw a Palm Pilot in operation, and I imagined all the “Star Trek” type stuff that would be possible with it — the demonstration videos trump even that.

Now, it really sucks that they’ve tied it to Cingular. It sucks a lot. The cell companies have had a stranglehold for too long, and they keep subsidizing crippled phones. As it happens, I already use Cingular, so the best I can do is protest the decision now, and then of course be the first in line to buy one the second they’re available.

And I guarantee that there’s going to be a host of complaints about the thing, just like with every first-version Apple product. Battery issues, screen issues, scratches, too-frequent upgrades, etc. But if there were ever any consumer gadget that cried out for me to be an early adopter, it’s this one.

So from now until June, I guess I’ll keep watching the demo movies on Apple’s site over and over again, as if it were the Zapruder film. (My favorite part is when they use Google technology to prank call a Starbuck’s). And point and laugh at my POS RAZR phone, which might as well have a tiny wireless Grim Reaper standing over it.

I finally got around to watching Super Size Me, good timing for someone, like I am, who’s taking renewed steps to become less of a fat-ass.

For the record, I am aware that the movie came out more than two years ago. And that it got a ton of press and plenty of favorable reviews, it went through the awards circuit, it got a response from McDonald’s, and it spawned a mini-industry, including books from Morgan Spurlock and his fiancee and a spin-off series (which I haven’t seen).

But I avoided watching it all this time, because I knew exactly what it was — another biased, muckraking, manipulative documentary about how big corporations are evil. The kind that always rails against The Man in defense of honest, hard-working American citizens, while at the same time having the thinly-veiled undercurrent that Americans are fat, lazy and stupid. Besides, McDonald’s brief public rebuttal was kind of a no-brainer — in brief, “No shit, Spurlock! You’re not supposed to eat it all the time.”

So I was surprised that the movie addressed this before the fact, and that it turned out to be a damn fine documentary. Easily one of the best I’ve ever seen. Most surprising to me was that it works so well not because of its objectivity, but its tone. It’s not objective in the least; it’s completely manipulative. But it wins because it’s a) transparently manipulative, and b) gleefully manipulative.

I couldn’t help but laugh out loud at the transitions, with paintings of McDonald’s advertising portrayed as religious imagery. And especially the genius sequence that shows McDonald’s TV commercials set to the tune of “Pusherman.” It’s all disarming enough so you never feel that you’re being preached to, but you’re still reminded throughout that this is a serious subject. It’s just not the end of the world.

And he states up front exactly what his objective is, to provide evidence that was missing in the lawsuit against McDonald’s, that the food can be directly linked to obesity and health problems. And he acknowledges that eating nothing but McDonald’s for 30 days straight is an extreme case done in order to prove a point, but also explains that the experiment isn’t that far off the mark. The company directly targets children, and then encourages customers to overeat and to keep coming back. McDonald’s may say in official statements that you’re not supposed to eat there all the time, but it’s clear that they’d be really, really happy if you did.

And the most important thing is the tone; he somehow manages to stay just left of preachy throughout the whole thing. He acknowledges that the food tastes good, because it’s designed to taste good. He doesn’t condescend to his interview subjects, and never brow-beats anyone, even those he doesn’t agree with. The tone never (okay, rarely) gets to finger-pointing or lecturing; he simply comes across as being an earnest guy in the middle of things with everybody else, trying to figure out what’s going on.

Most interesting to me are the scenes with his fiancee. She comes the closest to representing what I originally thought the film was going to be — militant vegan propaganda, criticizing Big Corporate America for killing us all and destroying the Earth and all that. And he laughs at her attempt to convert him to a vegan diet, and still somehow manages not to be insulting. It’s a great way to show that it’s not all about empty stereotypes and good guys vs. bad guys; it’s people living a lifestyle that suits them and trying to find a practical common ground.

I think here in the bay area, that’s the most important part. San Francisco’s abundance of restaurants makes it easy to eat like crap without ever visiting a chain, so McDonald’s isn’t the only enemy. Consuming without being conscious of what you’re doing to yourself and to the environment is the enemy. And so is making quick-and-easy judgements, even if you’re absolutely convinced that you’re being noble and compassionate about it.

And after a quick google search: Stephanie Zacharek’s review of the movie on salon.com is another of her reviews that I agree with almost 100%. (I didn’t think the gastric bypass segment was as cutesy as she did; I thought it was another great example of how he could show someone with compassion instead of judgement, not pointing fingers at the pathetic fat guy but really taking a look and trying to figure out what’s going on.) Her best phrase: “lazy righteousness.” I must’ve written at least 1000 words on this blog just trying to describe a phenomenon she perfectly sums up in two words.

Tonight I finally finished Half-Life 2 Episode One. (On a completely unrelated note: thanks again, Steve!)

This is the game that, according to GameSpot’s whiny review, was “incredibly short,” containing “only four to six hours of gameplay.” I figure it’s taken me 7 months to finish it.

I’ve already admitted that I’m not good at the videogames, on account of my condition. Still, I’d reckon I put about 10 to 15 hours into it. I got up to the end a couple of months ago, then quit playing for a while after getting frustrated by the “escort citizens to the train station” section. When I picked it up again tonight, that part went by in a flash; I’m wondering if there’s some clause in the AI that looked at the system clock, thought, “holy cow, this poor guy’s been stuck on this part for two months now!” and ended it abruptly. In any case, the rest of it went by quickly and a little anti-climactically.

The only reason I think this is all worth writing about is because it ties in with one of my favorite topics: storytelling in videogames.

Half-Life 2 was pretty much exactly the game I’d been wanting to see for over a decade. Not because I was a huge fan of the first one (I liked it a lot, but still have never finished it), but because it was finally incontrovertible proof that a videogame can tell a good story and be a good game.

I started working in adventure games right as the adventure game genre was dying, and it was tough to know who to root for. The LucasArts adventures proved that a game can tell a cool story, but I’ve always hated adventure game puzzles. Of all the adventure games I’ve played, there are only a few puzzles that are genuinely satisfying; most are just filler to interrupt the next big story segment. (You can say the same thing for RPGs, which have repetitive combat sequences just to kill time between cut-scenes.)

The change didn’t happen all of a sudden. Dark Forces and Jedi Knight showed that you could have a strong storyline in an action game, and there are some unforgettable moments in each (in particular, there’s one level early in Dark Forces where you get stuck in a sewer, and I’ll never forget it). Still, both of those games felt to me like cut-scenes separated by action game levels. The original Half-Life is kind of the opposite; I remember it as an action game with a strong story.

It wasn’t until Half-Life 2 that I felt that they got the mix just right — the setting feels real, the story is strong enough to be interesting but not so dense that it drags down the game, and most importantly, everything happens within the game. It wasn’t a first-person shooter with cutscenes, and it wasn’t an adventure game with action segments. It was its own thing, and it could only work as a videogame.

To me, Episode One lost a lot of that. For starters, it kind of bugs me that one of the main technical achievements of the game — having the character Alyx accompany you throughout the entire thing, and actually work instead of get in the way — ruined one of the best artistic achievements in the first. In the first, there was relatively little exposition; you’d figure things out as you would if you were really there, by experimenting. In Ep 1, she explains everything to you, and says exactly what you’re supposed to do next. (It particularly bugged me that she explained why the gravity gun turns into the super gravity gun; one of my favorite things about Half-Life 2 was that they trusted you to understand what was going on without having to explain it).

Also, the storytelling is a little off. There are some amazing action sequences in Episode One, and they did an outstanding job with them. Still, they feel like action sequences separated by not-really-interactive bits. Talk to Alyx, get to here, talk to Alyx, blow this up, talk to Alyx, fight these guys, repeat until done.

I really felt like Half-Life 2 had stopped being a “first-person shooter with story elements,” and had finally crossed the line to create something new. It’s kind of a shame that “interactive movie” has such a bad connotation now, because it’s a neat term — it’s everything cool about a movie, but you control it. After years of seeing videogames being movies’ dopey little brother, it was cool to see the tables turned — while watching War of the Worlds I kept thinking, “hey, this is a lot like Half-Life 2!”

Now, though, I look at the trailers for Episode 2 and see the sequence with antlions and I’m already frustrated with it, before it’s even been released. I really just want to see a cool story, not shoot a bunch of monsters I’ve already killed hundreds of. Especially since it means I’ll most likely end up dying and restarting about a dozen times just to make a little bit of progress.

I’m not saying that I want the game to be easier, even though anyone who watched me play these things would assume that’s what I need. I guess I’m saying that the balance between story and gameplay and filler is a really tough one to get exactly right.

There are complaints that HL2’s AI is too simple and predictable, which means those people want more game. But if story’s key, and you’re playing to one conclusion instead of repeatable deathmatches, why does it matter if the AI is predictable?

There are complains that Episode 1 was too short, which means that those people want more content. But eight hours of content, which would be criticized as “way too short” by videogame players, would be a pretty lengthy miniseries if it were shown on TV. So how does a videogame get more content without resorting to repetition and filler?

After I played Half-Life 2, I thought the adventure game was finally dead. I don’t think so, now (I’d better not, since I’m doing work for adventure games at the moment). It’s more encouraging than that — it’s not the death of anything, but proof that there’s infinite potential left in videogames. The potential to get away from the old genres and reinvent something totally new with each new franchise. And with episodic content, to make worlds and tell stories much bigger and more immersive than would be possible with a single-release game or a movie or miniseries. The trick is finding a way to throw off the last remnants of the old genres, getting rid of what made adventure games tedious and action games stupid, while keeping the elements that make for great games.

And if I knew exactly how to do that, I’d have a lot more money than I do right now.

I’m not sure why I’ve been going around for years with the impression that The Handmaid’s Tale was a movie I needed to see. Maybe I was confusing it with the book (which I can guarantee I won’t be reading), or because I had a crush on Natasha Richardson. Whatever the reason, the damage is done now. I rented it and watched it, more to get it out of my queue than any real desire to see it.

Rain suggested that if you watch it as a comedy, it’s hilarious. I wouldn’t go that far. While there were plenty of laugh-out-loud moments, there was too much dead time.

The way I got through it was by imagining what it was like watching the dailies for each scene as the movie was being made. I pictured a militant feminist producer (I’m thinking Rachel Dratch’s character from “30 Rock”) sitting in the screening room, smoking a big stogie and wearing a “US Out of My Uterus” T-shirt. Her crew — assembled in equal parts from the makers of Sci Fi channel original movies and Cinemax softcore porn — would watch in anticipation for her reaction. After each scene she’d sit and think a moment, then start doing the golf clap that builds in intensity as she barks in a husky, Amy Ray voice, “Oh yeah, that’s what I’m talkin’ about!”

(It’s also kind of amusing to imagine that it was made by the Trinity Broadcasting Network as a Left Behind-style cautionary tale, and they just can’t understand why people are interpreting it as satire of a dystopian future.)

Seriously, The Handmaid’s Tale is even less subtle than a Michael Moore movie. The message is pounded into you so hard and so clumsily you feel like you should be watching the movie wearing a red veil and lying in Faye Dunaway’s lap. (Which, coincidentally, is how I was watching the movie.)

Even though I didn’t expect to like it, I was still trying to be halfway receptive to the message, seeing as how I’m mostly liberal and all. But it was like riding a bucking bronco, the movie was trying so hard to lose me. I can’t pinpoint the exact moment they lost me for good, but it came down to one of four scenes:

1. Natasha Richardson’s reaction to Robert Duvall’s suggestion that they play Scrabble. She actually rolls her eyes, sitcom style. I expected her to do the Wilma Flintstone double-take, complete with accompanying sound effect.
2. When they go to the racy nightclub, and a cheerleading squad is dancing to a Fine Young Cannibals song. It was just comically dated and gross. Even Eyes Wide Shut did a better job suggesting a sexy, decadent party.
3. When Elizabeth McGovern’s character explains that they cut off (or just ruined? it was hard to tell) her hands because you don’t need hands for her job, as a sex worker. I’ll repeat that: don’t need your hands, as a sex worker.
4. When the heroine of our strong-woman feminist tale goes absolutely apeshit when she hears she’ll have to leave without her f-buddy, I mean the man she loves deeply after talking to for about 10 minutes and having arranged sex with.

The unsettling part is that we’re actually closer to a real theocracy in America than we were in the Thatcher/Reagan years in which the book was published, and still the movie seems completely ludicrous.

Other people may go in for the carols and egg nog and New Year’s Eve kiss and all that. My favorite part of the holidays is right now: when I get to complain about my flight home.

To start with, a question: what could an infant less than a year old possibly gain from a trip to San Francisco? He’s too young to get anything pierced, he’s going to have a tough time digesting sourdough, he doesn’t know how to use a bong, he’s way too young to start experimenting with his sexuality, and it’s just useless excess to take him on the bridge or on a trolley ride — babies are stupid, so you could push them around in a grocery cart and tell them it’s a painstakingly-restored vintage cable car, and they’d believe you.

So why would anybody want to take a baby onto an airplane and sit him right behind me and let him scream in my ear for four straight hours? So the relatives can see him? It’s 2007; that’s what flickr and webcams are for. DVDs have such capacity that you could record four straight hours of the little angel screaming away about nothing and send it to the folks. And here’s the cool part: I would be able to get some sleep.

I don’t know; maybe my whole perspective will change when/if I ever have kids. But speaking as a single guy with no obligations and the uncanny knack for always being seated directly in front of a screaming infant every single flight I take over 1 hour, I vote for a strict leave-the-kids-at-home-until-they’re-at-least-one policy.

Apart from that, there was the obese woman wearing about 8 layers of crocheted outergarments who sat in the middle seat and took both armrests the entire flight, while doing sudoku and crossword puzzles in the in-flight magazine while chatting about how great Helen Mirren was in The Queen. But she wouldn’t have annoyed me if I hadn’t been up for the last 24 hours straight.

Getting a flight back east for Christmas for less than 900 bucks meant that I had to stop over in Chicago on the way back. Once I got there, I was seriously tempted to skip my flight back to SFO and just wander around the city for a couple of days. I’ve never been there outside the airport, I’ve always heard it’s a cool place to see, and I’ve always wanted to see that Georges Seurat painting.

But I started thinking that it’d be stupid to wander around any completely unfamiliar city with no luggage and no idea where to go, especially Chicago in January. Considering I’ve been gone a while and still have a lot of work to do out here, I think ultimately I made the right decision. But the entire flight back I kept thinking about how close I’d come to escaping, only to abandon that freedom and head right back through the security gate.

I heard about this a while ago, but just got around to checking it out tonight: The Jellyvision guys have started putting daily questions from You Don’t Know Jack on their website. The series always was the best-written of any videogame, and it’s cool to hear topical material again.

They’ve tried the online thing before, with no luck. This seems like such a natural, though, I hope it lasts.

And I tried to embed my favorite one into the page here, but it won’t fit. So here’s my favorite: Say It Loud, I’m Fighting Crime and I’m Proud.