Jace to Face

I'm reading a new book. It's Sex God by Rob Bell. And when I say read, I mean I'm listening to it. It's my first audiobook. I know, I'm so hardcore. So far (Disc 2 of 3), it's better than I'd expected, which isn't saying much because I was fairly terrified it would be awkward and terrible. It does* offer a broadened view of some of life's important elements. For starts, Bell vastly widens the idea of sex and sexuality to include all heart connections - so the loving interaction among family, between friends, with God, etc. I thought it was all very flash and attention-grabbing, and I'm still not entirely with him on that front, but I guess I struggle to think of another English word that could take its place and adopt this new meaning.**

And it's ugly. Let's get that established nice and early. Recent Ferraris have been rather too conservative and bland, all coming up considerably short of beautiful. Ferrari once basked in the world's admiration for the wild and sensual aesthetic of its cars as well as for their engineering and success on road and track. It's really just been the last bit of late. I'm not much of a Ferrari fanboy, but I still think this vacuum of bellezza is a tragedy because I acknowledge and feel the marque's considerable presence deep in the essence of everything it means to love cars. The Ferrari F430 is a prime example of all this. It's an amazing, orgasmic piece of engineering. But it's wrapped in a body that deserves, at best, a "pretty." Even the Scuderia's sheetmetal can only get a "mildly badass" descriptor. Unfortunate really since it delivers a hugely badass driving experience.

And now the F430, which set the benchmark in its class, has sold in record numbers and has (for better or worse) come to define the modern Ferrari, is due for replacement. The F430 was at least a technical and sales home run, and stepping up to the plate: the 458 Italia. Nice name. And it'll be an amazing technical achievement, I promise. It uses more exotic materials and more fancy electronic bits than its daddy, and it will boast more power while achieving better fuel economy. And get this; there are even some black plasticky bits in the front air dam that deform beneath the weight of the airflow at high speeds to become more aerodynamic for those conditions. WOW! I'm not joking that bit genuinely turns me on. So it's shaping up to be a great car then. Except for just that: it's shaped up rather poorly. See for yourself:

I'm going to start with Microsoft, a greedy and gluttonous collective with a singular focus on making dollars. Many moons ago, Bungie Studios crafted a game called Halo: Combat Evolved. It was wildly successful and paved the way for Halos 2 and 3, both more advanced and creative than their predecessor. In 2007, Bungie and Microsoft Game Studios split ways (on 7/7/07 or Bungie Day 2007, if you must know). And Microsoft predictably couldn't restrain itself and collaborated with other studios to make Halo Wars, a real-time-strategy game released in North America in March of this year, and the upcoming Halo Legends, an anime. Let's be honest: Halo Wars was not well-received, a mediocre offering in a crowded market with superior, more well-established titles. And Halo Legends, so far as I can tell from the preview, is rather unimaginative in its artistry and, I suspect, its story as well. I don't really mind the idea of a Halo anime. It's more that Legends' style doesn't fit. It doesn't make sense. It's too standard an anime approach, and that doesn't see eye to eye with everything we've seen and come to love about the story and its characters. The same goes for the Halo novels. There are more than there need be, and the ones without Bungie's stamp of approval don't always mesh quite right in the established Halo universe. Writing style is off. Characters are off. Stories don't match. These other games and stories do Halo the detriment of diluting its essence and character.

The way I see it, Bungie is Halo's creator and ultimate caretaker. They have a vision for the story they've told and the universe they've built. Beyond this, the studio does a fine job interacting with its fans, allowing them to be active participants in Halo's development. All this is wonderful. Great. Everyone else just needs to stop messing with it.

I'm going to take something a bit abstract and try to condense it into some words. It's one of those thoughts-on-life, wandering, stream-of-consciousness messes. So bear with me. Or read something more coherent. Save yourself before it's too late!

I've thought for many years that life should be easier than it's been. I don't mean easy, really. I mean simple. Simpler. I entertain the notion that you, me, and people in general are not complicated beings, and the lives we lead are equally straightforward. To be clear, I do think we're profound. The universe is. Its Maker certainly is, and our inherent, dim reflection of his nature bestows that on each of us. We've all said something like, "it's complicated" or "look, my problems are a really complex mess." And maybe it looks that way from a lot of angles, but at heart it's achingly and profoundly simple. So many human messes boil down to the heartache of loneliness, the human need for closeness with God. In fact, I struggle to think of examples that aren't a product of this universal suffering.

I also said life is profound. It has meaning; it's deeply colored with purpose. That's critical considering another universal human trait is a desire for this sort of significance. But oh-so-many things come between us and our significance. We are God's beloved, purposed and empowered. Life is a fantastic journey that dwarfs the bounds of our imagination. This is truth. But we - I - am limited by fear, by the limitations imposed by society and its closed-mindedness, by my own dreams and desires, by distractions ad infinitum. And it's pathetic. It's a sad, tragic little tale of my little life that I, myself, have belittled and bound and bordered and broken. And now I see the great gap between what is and what was purposed to be. The journey to bridge it begins, and it's comforting to know that I'm guaranteed love, grace, company, and victory to keep me buoyant in the equally certain rough bits.

Tangentially related to all this is my recent and cheesy obsession with motorcycles. See, I'm going to get one eventually. Because they are great fun and fascinating engineering, yes, but also because I've always been too afraid to. Like most men, I suppose, I've always wanted a crotch rocket. It's hardcore, badass, and not-so-vaguely sexual. But statistics say 117% of motorcyclists die three times or more on public roads, and this teamed with practicality issues involving storage space and passenger capacity eventually kill the dream stone dead. See but that's ridiculous. There is a reasonable and responsible way to ride the things, and despite the statistics and the legitimacy of my fears, I will. And I'll love it when it's good, hate it when it's raining, and always be excited and emotional about it. And if I die, so be it.

Don't misunderstand me. Like Lewis Hamilton said in his Top Gear interview, "I'm not looking to waste my life." But consider this: living by fear is living small, and that's the worst waste of life.

Simple. Profound. Good living to you.

America has somehow failed to embrace the hot hatchback. Spearheaded five Golf generations ago by the original Volkswagen Golf GTI, the market gradually grew to include offerings from Honda, Ford, Renault, Seat, etc. The idea is: take your average smallish hatchback - replete with all manner of convenience features, technology, and a dollop of practicality - plop a powerful engine in, and make assorted engineering and aesthetic modifications that make it exciting (possibly dangerous). The product is a pocket rocket, a jack of all trades...all things to all men. And to top off the brilliance, proper hot hatches don't break the wallet. They're incredible - the best kind of car there is.

Let me explain. There are more flashy, flamboyant, and extreme cars, and most are hugely expensive. People that can afford them generally want to show off and be oogled by the masses. So they're shallow. Admittedly, some want them for a heightened level of driving excitement. But for the enormous price and considering the limitations of public roads, there's no justification for their purchase. So they're stupid.

The best of the hot hatch breed are fantastically exciting. They're powerful, well-equipped, good-looking, and unique from each other. Consider the VW Golf GTI, a turbocharged and FWD German with reasonable engineering in a reasonable and conservative package. Or consider the GTI-on-steroids Golf R32, which packs a V6 with a mighty wallop, four-wheel drive, and a properly meaty vocal range. Or the new Ford Focus ST with its curvy angle-ness and turbocharged inline-five. Or it's Creatine-chugging sibing, the Focus RS, which throws three-hundred turbo-manaical horses at its front wheels. Or the Honda Civic Type-R or even the watered-down-for-Americans Civic Si, both with screaming, rev happy powerplants and snappy, short-throw gearboxes. And these are just a few. There are so many more. Some genuinely good and some terrible but great.

The excitement is there. As is the attitude, the character, and the pedigree. Only now the cars are also pleasingly practical, prudently priced, properly equipped, and possibly reliable. I'm sold. I'm all for them.

I desperately want to like BMW. They take engineering seriously. They take quality seriously. They take driving dynamics seriously. They take the car seriously. Recently, though, they've tried to be less serious about car aesthetics. They've tried to add flair and panache, sex and candy, but they're German so it's all gone badly wrong. A few years ago, the revamped styling of the 7 and 5 were so controversial that the subsequent 3 committed a worse sin: it's boring looking. Among their most recent efforts, the all-new 7 and Z4 are far better resolved than their predecessors, but inside and out, they're still far off the beautiful bullseye. Somewhere down the BMW model continuum, the new X1 SUV is, inexplicably, appallingly hideous. How can the company that produces the inoffensive, even handsome X5 and X6 have gotten the X1 (and the X3) so badly wrong? How can they make the absurdly expensive and technologically obese 7 so mundane? There is clear, rock-solid evidence that BMW designers are brilliant. Look at this:


Behold, everyone: the BMW Concept CS. It's real. They were going to make it real for people like you and me, but then they decided not to. Explain to me, though, why that isn't the new 7. Why? Not practical enough? Too showcar-ey? Don't care. Not when it looks like that. I would gladly cut off my head to fit in the back so long as the rest of my body can be transported around in a car like the CS. And I think millions of dollars worth of consumers and their wallets would happily concur. So BMW, here's a tip. Hang whoever is coming between your talented design team and us. Then, draw and quarter their carcass. If you produce the CS with the cleverness and quality you're renowned for, I promise you will enjoy the financial reward.

I'm going to make a radical departure from the norm and play serious for a moment. The Christian church, or at least its more conservative elements, is perceived as the archenemy of the homosexual. It is, for the church and the world observing it, a ridiculous position. The message of Christ is love for all men, flawed as we are. Homosexuality is wrong because God created man-woman intimacy as the sacred right, and as with "let there be light," the rest became darkness. But for all the spotlight on gays, the error is the same for heterosexual ignorance of God. The lonely human heart is driven to terrible ends to soothe itself. But for all of us, the message of Christ is Love rather than condemnation. A homosexual can't help his sexuality nor a heterosexual his own lusts. But the Kingdom offers Love regardless, Love that heals hearts and makes men new. God is compelling because he wins us with his Love. The Christian commission is to do no less for the world.

My mom has told me I'm fickle for years. Every time I tell her I like a new car, she has a standard comeback that reminds me that my opinion on the subject has accumulated negative worth over time.

So it bugs the hell out of me that Porsche's ridiculous Panamera four-door monster is beginning to grow on me. First, I blasted it for being ugly. Despite my mother's insistence otherwise, it really is hideous, especially viewed from the side. Then, I blasted Porsche for selling out again and building a car that only rich posers will buy and drive. I slammed them for further solidifying their growing reputation as a vain and petty man's marque. Most recently, I railed on Porsche for having such a poor standard equipment list on a ninety-thousand dollar car. Bluetooth, for example, is standard on cars a third that price. Wake up, Porsche.

Gradually, though, I've felt an increasing tug toward the Panamera. Yes, there's a lot to hate about it. But somehow, there's something strangely lovable about Porsche's new, enormous bastard. It's stupid, but that's the quality that's starting to grow on me. It doesn't hurt that it's stupid fast, especialy in top-line Turbo trim. I've just read reports that it's recently bested the Cadillac CTS-V's seven minute, fifty-nine second lap around the Nurburgring by three seconds. And the Caddy was the fastest four-door production car around that track. I know, CTS fans will counter that the Porsche is twice as expensive. Look, kids: learn how to lose gracefully. When Cadillac grows the brand image and balls to build a one-hundred and thirty thousand dollar sedan that can run with Ferraris, come back and pick a fight. Until then, if I had money, it'd be with the Porsche. Fickle? Yes, but I blame the Panamera.

The recent smattering of large, luxurious four-door cars has abandoned the traditional gauge cluster in favor of a digital representation of a set of analog gauges. This began, as is custom in Cardom, with the Mercedes S-class. BMW's 7-series and Jaguar's new XJ are following suit. I understand the motive: pressure to convey more and increasingly diverse information to the driver in a meaningful and ergonomic fashion. And though I credit these manufacturers for their fairly convincing fake gauges, I'm sad to see the old school technology depart. There is something fantastic about a cleanly machined, artfully simple set of gauges. Like a good timepiece, they convey more than information - they emanate a sense of quality and beauty. So then, this is where technology can let us down; where the endless quest for more and better can take an odd turn and go awry. It's information's efficient delivery and quantity rather than the beauty of its presentation. And the way I see it, it's a tragedy.

So I've just uploaded all the notes that I'd posted on Facebook whilst (mis)using it as a blog of sorts.

Michael Jackson, the at-times troubled music icon, is being memorialized as I write this. His death is a great tragedy, it's true. May he rest in peace and his music continue playing in the ears of fans for generations.

That said, my mushy sentimentality is done. The ridiculous human obsession with the death of Mr. Jackson is embarrassing. I understand that it is sad. I understand that he was an incredibly talented and fascinating artist and, more importantly, human being. Many people at least as worthy as MJ die in complete obscurity every day in our world, and the whole of humanity stops to freak out when its King of Pop dies. CNN.com put MJ atop its coverage of the violence and injustice in Iran. Twitter has a heart attack. The Internet has a stroke. Everyone on Facebook puts up a different version of the same status. People, calm yourselves. And give the man the proper respect he deserves as a human being rather than as the object of ridiculous human idolatry.

The motoring icons at Top Gear have maintained for years that the BMW M3 is for cocks. They're right, but I'm totally convinced the new, four-door M3 is the best sedan in the world. Maybe the best car in the world. I know I'm wrong: it isn't either of those things. I know it puts me perilously close to being a cock. I don't care. If you have $54,850 and are looking for a car, buy one. Ignore all the downsides. You will want to spend the rest of your life in it. And while that doesn't cut it for healthy relationships with women, that's what matters with cars. You'll love it. It's imperative that you get the four-door though. The coupe is really just for friendless, flaming cocks.

Now: Megan Fox. I know she isn't a car, but it doesn't matter. If she were a car though, I read somewhere that ninety percent of men would take her for a spin. Ninety percent! For Megan Fox! And considering three to four percent of men are exclusively attracted to their own sex, that's an astounding statistic. Advertising gurus, why don't I see her everywhere? On every billboard and TV commercial? If you ran an ad campaign with Ms. Fox, it doesn't matter what you're selling. Hemorrhoid cream would suddenly interest ninety percent of half of the population. And women would inevitably be jealous and try to mimic the Fox, so they'd buy it too. Soon enough, vast numbers among the female population would morph into Megan Fox copies. And hemorrhoid cream would outsell Viagra. It's...I wish you could envision the world I've just come up with.

While I'm well aware that the United States has a messy foreign policy history and may rightly bear the blame from many for much, I was struck after reading a CNN.com article describing recent statements by Mr. Ahmadinejad slamming President Obama. I'm not the biggest Obama fan, but I do credit him for showing brilliant restraint in his Iran rhetoric. And it doesn't matter; Mr. Ahmadinejad slams everyone all the time. The Iranian "president" is a feckless infant who cannot balance balls with brains. That assessment complete, I credit the Iranian people with having enough sense to elect someone - anyone - more competent. Because Mr. Ahmadinejad cannot lead squat. He has led Iran, once the seat of great civilization and empire, to the scum of the international community and bankrupted their economy. So with all due respect, sir, here's my rhetoric: GO TO HELL.

First, I'd just like to get this out of the way. Growing up, bottlenose dolphins were easily my favorite animals. I admired their intelligence and graceful beauty. I had (have) many stuffed toy dolphins. They all have names. We had (have) great conversations in the wee morning hours. But I learned the other day that bottlenose dolphins are, so far as we know, the most bisexual animals on earth. In fact, they're hugely sexual animals to begin with. See, in school they always told us dolphins are cute, fun-loving creatures. They may have even told us that they're among the elite in all creation that do sex for recreation. They didn't mention the dolphin orgies and that girl dolphins weren't invited. And that when dolphins choose life partners, they aren't of the opposite sex. Stunned by my new knowledge, I confronted my toy friends. The guys feigned ignorance. They insisted they were all just good buddies and that was an end of it. I'd let them hang out on my bed! For years! Gross. So I've just changed out the bed. If you ever sleep in our guest room, I'm sorry.

Next, I saw a new Camaro the other day in Buckhead. It was yellow. I got excited...dolphin-style. Okay I restrained myself...a bit. But it's seriously good looking. Although I wasn't expecting it to be enormous. It's huge. Super-tanker huge. And with those windows, driving it would be like piloting a submarine with just the periscope. Only the Camaro is heavier. And more powerful. And yes, it comes with the nukes. But big whoop. Everyone has those now. So it ain't cutting edge, but I like it anyway. Well done, GM. Too bad I'm uber-pissed at you for f-ing up everything for the last three decades.

Oh and on a strictly personal note, if you're interested, my ideal garage would contain: a hydraulic lift, massive toolset (big tool needs big playset), spotlights (highlight my good looks), industrial fan (dramatic hair), air pump (don't ask), sink and running water. Oh, and yes...a Mercedes GLK 350 4matic and a KTM X-bow. And if KTM hasn't released that here, I'll move to where I can get it. Or buy an Exige S 240 instead. Or a 2000 NSX. Or an M3 Sedan. Or a Corvette Z06. Or...damn.

It's official. Chrysler and Fiat are now an item. A pair. Duo. Couple. Normally, hookups either elicit an "aww that's cute!," an "eww that's gross" or a "WTF." This is, decidedly, an opportunity for a collective utterance of the last. Chrysler, which I hear tell was once a great American institution long before I started life, will be "saved" by a union with Fiat. And we're slated to receive some of those Italian wares Stateside as soon as the coming year. If you're thinking this is awesome because Fiat oversees Ferrari, Maserati, and Alfa Romeo, stop. In fact, do me a favor and stop thinking altogether. Fiat primarily builds...you guessed it: Fiats. And those this year earned the incredible and unique distinction of being the least reliable cars offered in the United Kingdom. Dead, bottom, stonkin' last place. I'm entirely convinced that's something you have to try to achieve in a market that includes Peugeots, Citroens, Renaults, Seats, and Volkswagens. Well done then, Fiat. You've done it. So - and I mean this in as nice a way as possible - Dear Italians, please stick to cooking, building great tourist attractions, and lovemaking. Word is that you're good at those things. Keep your cars and leave the engineering up to the rest of us.

If Fiat hadn't invaded, Chrysler would be dead. Well, okay. I would miss the Viper. And they're not keeping that around anyway. So there you go.

EDIT: The Viper is apparently sticking around because Chrysler gave it to Fiat. In other news, the Jeep Panda. Again: "WTF?"

In the wake of rough times for the global car industry, gearheads are left wondering if the transformations in the industry will leave us with a vast sea of dull econoboxes. I think it's somewhere between inevitable and avoidable. Honda, for example, has already axed plans for successors to their performance-oriented S2000 and NSX models, leaving the automaker with a brilliantly efficient lineup primed and ready for fast-approaching deadlines for government limitations on fuel consumption and CO2 emissions. Fair enough, but now the global flagship for Honda is what we here in the U.S. know as the Acura RL. And let's be honest here - it isn't much fun to drive and comes fresh out of the factory looking like it's already been wrecked. Mercedes has brought the Smart stateside, and hordes of idiots have bought them...probably hoping the moniker will fool people. Alas, the Smart is not a car; it's a piece of crap. I've driven one. I know. Tata may bring the godawful Nano here, giving Americans the opportunity to buy glorified garbage for cheaper than the cheapest real car on the market. But isn't there some good news...like the new BMW M tanks, the M-ified X5 and X6? Those have hyperdrive and can beat the M3 around the Nurburgring despite weighing more than a Death Star, right? Well, yes. But real gearheads don't buy those - posers do. Same goes for the facelifted-but-still-hideo