It may be shocking for you to hear, but...well, some people don't like Amy Pond. (Yes, I know. Take as much time as you need to wrap your head around that idea and then join me at the next sentence.) Despite being a great companion, possibly the best so far in the new Doctor Who series (and cue flamewars in three, two, one...) some people really can't stand her. They say that she's just one more example of why they consider Moffat to be a sexist writer. Amy Pond, according to them, is a stereotypical female character of the worst order, a misogynist caricature of real women that Moffat created as an object of fanboy lust, nothing more.
Is it true? Let's look at Amy. She's clearly not a passive character, which is always one of the big red flags for sexism. Amy makes her own decision to travel in the TARDIS, and she is determined not to give up on it; she's been inadvertently gaslighted for most of her life, being told that the Doctor was just an imaginary friend that it's past time for her to give up on, but she hasn't stopped believing in him for a moment. (And she's avoided winding up in a mental institution despite all that, which indicates that she's socially and emotionally well-adjusted despite dealing with issues that would have sent a lot of people into a rubber room.) She acts as more than just a passenger in the TARDIS, making decisions on matters from space whale survival to whether her husband will get to travel along.
And speaking of her husband...anyone who is trying to claim that Amy is sexist will have to deal with "Mrs. Pond". Amy is very clearly the decision-maker in that relationship, and it is not depicted as dysfunctional or shameful. Rory is not henpecked, he is in awe of his wife's determination and he respects her decision-making ability. While he is always there to reinforce her when she needs it, he does not try to enforce a patriarchal authority over her, because he loves her for who she is and that includes her forcefulness. Amy and Rory's relationship is just about the least sexist, most well-adjusted relationship in any genre series ever.
And Moffat has never put Amy into sexual peril; unlike, say, Peri, the villains do not lust after her body and want to keep her as a trophy bride. Amy gets put into her share of danger, just like the Doctor and the other companions, but it's not represented as specifically due to her gender. (Arguably, she is not a capable fighter, which is apparently a prerequisite for "strong female characters" these days, but neither is anyone else in the series, with the possible exceptions of Ian, Leela, and River Song.)
No, the main reason I think people call Amy "sexist" is...well...not to put to fine a point on it, but she has sex. And she enjoys it. Amy has been known to talk about sex, to ogle men she finds attractive, to ogle women she finds attractive, and to even have enough of a hint of kinkiness to enjoy dressing up in costumes. In short, Amy Pond has genitals and isn't ashamed to say she enjoys using them. To some people, this immediately makes her a terrible slut unworthy of inclusion in the same genre as decent women.
Think I'm exaggerating? Go look at the recaps on TV Without Pity. (Can't link to the site from work, but you should be able to find it with the help of Google.) Until his head exploded from having to talk about women who actually admit to enjoying orgasms, Jacob the recapper inserted constant comments about how Amy's career as a kiss-o-gram showed how damaged she was as a person, and how the Doctor wrecked her by coming into her life and leaving and now all she does is have emotionless flings in order to make money. As a KISS-O-GRAM. God alone knows what he would have said if she'd thrown hugs into the deal.
There is, at heart, a fundamental belief that women who have sex for anything other than procreational purposes are bad. This has been dressed up in countless other beliefs over the eons, and the claim that feminists should be prudes is just one more disguise for it. This doesn't mean that there's no such thing as exploitative sexualization or titillation; of course there is. But a female character shouldn't have to wear a burqa in order to be free of criticism for her feminist credibility, and it's frustrating to see people try to pass off their slut shaming as feminism.
And that doesn't even get into River Song...
Wednesday, April 04, 2012
Sunday, April 01, 2012
In Loving Memory
I took my girl to a fancy ball;
It was a social hop.
We waited till the folks got out,
And the music it did stop.
Then to a restaurant we went,
The best one on the street.
She said she wasn't hungry
But this is what she ate.
A dozen raw, a plate of slaw,
A chicken and a roast,
Some applesauce and asparagus,
And soft-shell crabs on toast.
A big box stew, and crackers too;
Her appetite was immense!
When she called for pie,
I thought I'd die,
For I had but fifty cents.
She said she wasn't hungry
And didn't care to eat,
But I've money in my clothes
To bet she can't be beat.
She took it in so cozy,
She had an awful tank.
She said she wasn't thirsty
But this is what she drank.
A whisky skin, a glass of gin,
Which made me shake with fear,
A ginger pop, with rum on top,
A schooner then of beer,
A glass of ale, a gin cocktail.
She should have had more sense.
When she called for more
I fell on the floor
For I had but fifty cents.
Of course I wasn't hungry
And didn't care to eat,
Expecting every moment
To be kicked into the street.
She said she'd fetch her family round,
And some night we'd have fun
But when I gave the man the fifty cents,
This is what he done:
He tore my clothes,
He smashed my nose,
He hit me on the jaw,
He gave me a prize
Of a pair of black eyes
And with me swept the floor.
He took me where my pants hung loose,
And threw me over the fence.
Now take my advice, don't try it twice
If you've got but fifty cents.
It was a social hop.
We waited till the folks got out,
And the music it did stop.
Then to a restaurant we went,
The best one on the street.
She said she wasn't hungry
But this is what she ate.
A dozen raw, a plate of slaw,
A chicken and a roast,
Some applesauce and asparagus,
And soft-shell crabs on toast.
A big box stew, and crackers too;
Her appetite was immense!
When she called for pie,
I thought I'd die,
For I had but fifty cents.
She said she wasn't hungry
And didn't care to eat,
But I've money in my clothes
To bet she can't be beat.
She took it in so cozy,
She had an awful tank.
She said she wasn't thirsty
But this is what she drank.
A whisky skin, a glass of gin,
Which made me shake with fear,
A ginger pop, with rum on top,
A schooner then of beer,
A glass of ale, a gin cocktail.
She should have had more sense.
When she called for more
I fell on the floor
For I had but fifty cents.
Of course I wasn't hungry
And didn't care to eat,
Expecting every moment
To be kicked into the street.
She said she'd fetch her family round,
And some night we'd have fun
But when I gave the man the fifty cents,
This is what he done:
He tore my clothes,
He smashed my nose,
He hit me on the jaw,
He gave me a prize
Of a pair of black eyes
And with me swept the floor.
He took me where my pants hung loose,
And threw me over the fence.
Now take my advice, don't try it twice
If you've got but fifty cents.
Monday, March 19, 2012
Even I Hate My Brain Sometimes
This actually sounds like a good idea for a series: A group of superheroes tracks down a criminal organization that hides out where the law can't touch them...within the collective unconscious. Each week, a criminal manifests himself as a powerful archetype, and the heroes must battle by using their own archetypes to heal the mental traumas of the person whose body the criminal is using to commit crimes. Thus, by healing the victim's psyche, the heroes block off one more access into the world for injustice, setting up a final battle where the villains will be forced to incarnate themselves physically or risk being trapped within the shadows of humanity's unexpressed dark side forever.
Why does this depress me? Because I came up with the title first.
"Jung Justice."
Why does this depress me? Because I came up with the title first.
"Jung Justice."
Thursday, March 15, 2012
Review: Midnight Riot
First, a disclaimer: When it comes to author Ben Aaronovitch, I have a well-known, self-avowed tendency to gush. I have adored his writing since the late 80s, when he was one of the young writers who creatively revitalized Doctor Who just as the public lost interest in the series, then shepherded it into the 90s with several extremely well-received and amazingly well-written Doctor Who novels (to say nothing of the inspiration he provided to other excellent Doctor Who writers like Kate Orman, Marc Platt, and Paul Cornell.) So when I say, "Ben Aaronovitch's novel 'Midnight Riot' (released in the UK as 'Rivers of London') is absolutely magnificent," I will agree that those words would not surprise anyone who knew me.
That said, Ben Aaronovitch's new novel 'Midnight Riot' is absolutely magnificent. Aaronovitch's great skill is that he can slip effortlessly into any genre; in 'Transit', one of his older Doctor Who novels, he out-Gibsoned Gibson in a cyberpunk pastiche, and in 'The Also People', he did an Iain M. Banks pastiche that was superior to any of the actual Culture books. Here, he does "urban fantasy", and gives you a book that feels like what Neil Gaiman was aiming for with 'Neverwhere' but never really had the chance to make work.
The novel concerns Peter Grant, a rookie policeman who strikes up a conversation with a witness who turns out to be a ghost while securing a crime scene, and finds out that there's a place for people who can sense the supernatural in the Metropolitan Police Force. He winds up apprenticed to the only police wizard in Britain, and has to learn the ins and outs of magic while solving a string of grisly murders and brokering a peace between the river spirits of London. (Hence the original title, which is more evocative but probably didn't have enough "sex appeal" to market in America.)
It's a solid plot idea by itself, but as always, what makes it work is that Aaronovitch is so bloody readable. Every damn line flows smoothly and melodiously into the next, every scene keeps you fascinated. From Peter's first encounter with London vampires, which is resolved the way everyone should resolve problems with the undead, to his gloriously poetic final confrontation with a murderous revenant, everything pulls you along so smoothly and easily that I went straight from the first book to the sequel, "Moon Over Soho", without skipping a beat. The main character is likable (and mixed-race, because one of Ben Aaronovitch's many many positive qualities is that he makes a solid effort to walk the talk on multiculturalism.) And the supporting cast is so great that I don't want to talk any more about the plot because I don't want to spoil anything.
And I don't. I really want everyone to experience this novel, because it's great. Ben Aaronovitch is a great writer who I am profoundly glad to reacquaint myself with, and I can't recommend this book enough.
But again, when it comes to Ben Aaronovitch, I have a tendency to gush.
That said, Ben Aaronovitch's new novel 'Midnight Riot' is absolutely magnificent. Aaronovitch's great skill is that he can slip effortlessly into any genre; in 'Transit', one of his older Doctor Who novels, he out-Gibsoned Gibson in a cyberpunk pastiche, and in 'The Also People', he did an Iain M. Banks pastiche that was superior to any of the actual Culture books. Here, he does "urban fantasy", and gives you a book that feels like what Neil Gaiman was aiming for with 'Neverwhere' but never really had the chance to make work.
The novel concerns Peter Grant, a rookie policeman who strikes up a conversation with a witness who turns out to be a ghost while securing a crime scene, and finds out that there's a place for people who can sense the supernatural in the Metropolitan Police Force. He winds up apprenticed to the only police wizard in Britain, and has to learn the ins and outs of magic while solving a string of grisly murders and brokering a peace between the river spirits of London. (Hence the original title, which is more evocative but probably didn't have enough "sex appeal" to market in America.)
It's a solid plot idea by itself, but as always, what makes it work is that Aaronovitch is so bloody readable. Every damn line flows smoothly and melodiously into the next, every scene keeps you fascinated. From Peter's first encounter with London vampires, which is resolved the way everyone should resolve problems with the undead, to his gloriously poetic final confrontation with a murderous revenant, everything pulls you along so smoothly and easily that I went straight from the first book to the sequel, "Moon Over Soho", without skipping a beat. The main character is likable (and mixed-race, because one of Ben Aaronovitch's many many positive qualities is that he makes a solid effort to walk the talk on multiculturalism.) And the supporting cast is so great that I don't want to talk any more about the plot because I don't want to spoil anything.
And I don't. I really want everyone to experience this novel, because it's great. Ben Aaronovitch is a great writer who I am profoundly glad to reacquaint myself with, and I can't recommend this book enough.
But again, when it comes to Ben Aaronovitch, I have a tendency to gush.
Monday, March 12, 2012
A Collective of Borg
On Sunday, as I was driving my wife home, we were discussing the collective nouns for different animals. (Starting with "an unkindness of ravens" and "a murder of crows", two of the most evocative.) From there, of course, my mind naturally leapt to Mike Nelson's musings on the collective noun for zombies, as delivered in his commentary track for 'Night of the Living Dead'.
"A shamble,"I said aloud. "A shamble of zombies."
She nodded. "And a halitosis of vampires. And a sparkle of Cullens."
From there, it progressed to Doctor Who, with me suggesting "a shout of Daleks", and her coming up with "a mojo of Judoon." (I remember she also suggested "a mold of Autons", but some of the others escape me.)
Of course, I also think "a collective of Borg" is worth mentioning, if for no other reason than it sounds so utterly literal as to be perfect for Borg.
Needless to say, I someday want to write this into an actual Doctor Who script, with the Doctor musing on what the proper collective noun for Daleks would be. When they start screaming at him, he'd suddenly exclaim, "A shout!"
Any of you have collective nouns for fictional creatures you'd like to share?
"A shamble,"I said aloud. "A shamble of zombies."
She nodded. "And a halitosis of vampires. And a sparkle of Cullens."
From there, it progressed to Doctor Who, with me suggesting "a shout of Daleks", and her coming up with "a mojo of Judoon." (I remember she also suggested "a mold of Autons", but some of the others escape me.)
Of course, I also think "a collective of Borg" is worth mentioning, if for no other reason than it sounds so utterly literal as to be perfect for Borg.
Needless to say, I someday want to write this into an actual Doctor Who script, with the Doctor musing on what the proper collective noun for Daleks would be. When they start screaming at him, he'd suddenly exclaim, "A shout!"
Any of you have collective nouns for fictional creatures you'd like to share?
Tuesday, February 21, 2012
The Scariest Thing You'll Ever Read
The other day, my wife and I were discussing the news that against all common sense and basic human decency, the Transformers franchise has not yet breathed its last. "Transformers 4," I mused. "Just think of the waste. All that money going to such an utter void of talent."
"Yeah," my wife said. "They could have used that money to finally make the 'Elfquest' movie, for a start."
I chuckled, knowing that my wife is an ardent Elfquest fan who awaits the Elfquest movie in much the same way that a Cubs fan awaits that World Series ring. But then I thought to myself, "But what if they got Michael Bay to do the Elfquest movie?"
The image came to me in a vivid flash. All of the strong, beautiful female characters replaced with simpering eye-candy. The open acceptance of alternative lifestyles done over as macho gay panic "male bonding". Shaky-cam upon shaky-cam, explosions in a fantasy world that doesn't even have gunpowder yet, either Cutter or Skywise played by Shia LaBeouf...
My wife noticed my shudder and faint, inarticulate cry of revulsion. "Whatever it is," she said, "I don't want to know." I knew she was having a rough day, so I decided not to tell her. But I had to share it with someone eventually. (When you read this, um...sorry, honey. But at least I waited until you had a little chance to brace yourself for it!)
"Yeah," my wife said. "They could have used that money to finally make the 'Elfquest' movie, for a start."
I chuckled, knowing that my wife is an ardent Elfquest fan who awaits the Elfquest movie in much the same way that a Cubs fan awaits that World Series ring. But then I thought to myself, "But what if they got Michael Bay to do the Elfquest movie?"
The image came to me in a vivid flash. All of the strong, beautiful female characters replaced with simpering eye-candy. The open acceptance of alternative lifestyles done over as macho gay panic "male bonding". Shaky-cam upon shaky-cam, explosions in a fantasy world that doesn't even have gunpowder yet, either Cutter or Skywise played by Shia LaBeouf...
My wife noticed my shudder and faint, inarticulate cry of revulsion. "Whatever it is," she said, "I don't want to know." I knew she was having a rough day, so I decided not to tell her. But I had to share it with someone eventually. (When you read this, um...sorry, honey. But at least I waited until you had a little chance to brace yourself for it!)
Sunday, February 19, 2012
My Crazy 'Shining' Theory
Last week, on my guest post at Mightygodking.com, I wrote about why people might see the classic Kubrick film 'The Shining' and see all sorts of crazy things. It's been viewed through a lot of different lenses and has been seen as a Holocaust analogy, a polemic on the gold standard, and a symbolic allegory for the genocide of native Americans. But in the end, I rejected the notions that tiny clues in the film could point the direction to Kubrick's "true" intent.
Then I went and rewatched the movie. And true to form, I noticed a tiny clue that I think points to what Kubrick was intending. And like everyone else over the years, I think I'm right here, based on what I know about Kubrick and his film-making style and his personality.
I think the key is in the TV show Danny is watching, just before Jack completely loses it and threatens to kill Wendy for the first time. (The classic "give me the bat" scene.) Danny and Wendy are sitting together, eating lunch and watching cartoons...and the theme song is the old "Road Runner" theme. ("Road Runner! The coyote's after you! Road Runner! If he catches you, you're through!") Now, this was something Kubrick would have had to obtain permission to use. He could have used any cartoon, any kid's show, really anything at all. But he wanted people to be subconsciously thinking about the Road Runner and Wile E. Coyote, and he wanted them to be thinking about it right as the action ramped up and Jack's dementia turned lethal. Why?
Because that's what he wanted people to be viewing the last act of 'The Shining' as--as a gigantic, dark, twisted version of the Coyote/Road Runner cartoon, with Jack as Wile E. Coyote and Danny as the Road Runner. Jack is relentless, pursuing Danny with a single-minded obsession (but simultaneously narrating events with an otherwise inexplicable good cheer), while Danny is fleeing with no particular goal or aim. And just like in the classic cartoons, Jack receives injury after injury, getting whacked on the head and falling down a flight of stairs and getting locked in the pantry and finally getting lost in the hedge maze. While Danny runs out and away with a "meep meep!"
It makes sense. Kubrick was known to have a mischievous sense of humor. He was known to make movies that started serious and turned into black comedies as it slowly became clear to him that he couldn't keep a straight face behind the camera. It explains why Jack's madness slowly ramps up to "cartoonish" levels as the film goes on. Kubrick meant for you to laugh at Jack even as the situation creeped you out--the whole thing is one big live-action cartoon.
A cartoon about the Kennedy assassination being a CIA operation, of course. See, the references to July 4th in the final scene...
Then I went and rewatched the movie. And true to form, I noticed a tiny clue that I think points to what Kubrick was intending. And like everyone else over the years, I think I'm right here, based on what I know about Kubrick and his film-making style and his personality.
I think the key is in the TV show Danny is watching, just before Jack completely loses it and threatens to kill Wendy for the first time. (The classic "give me the bat" scene.) Danny and Wendy are sitting together, eating lunch and watching cartoons...and the theme song is the old "Road Runner" theme. ("Road Runner! The coyote's after you! Road Runner! If he catches you, you're through!") Now, this was something Kubrick would have had to obtain permission to use. He could have used any cartoon, any kid's show, really anything at all. But he wanted people to be subconsciously thinking about the Road Runner and Wile E. Coyote, and he wanted them to be thinking about it right as the action ramped up and Jack's dementia turned lethal. Why?
Because that's what he wanted people to be viewing the last act of 'The Shining' as--as a gigantic, dark, twisted version of the Coyote/Road Runner cartoon, with Jack as Wile E. Coyote and Danny as the Road Runner. Jack is relentless, pursuing Danny with a single-minded obsession (but simultaneously narrating events with an otherwise inexplicable good cheer), while Danny is fleeing with no particular goal or aim. And just like in the classic cartoons, Jack receives injury after injury, getting whacked on the head and falling down a flight of stairs and getting locked in the pantry and finally getting lost in the hedge maze. While Danny runs out and away with a "meep meep!"
It makes sense. Kubrick was known to have a mischievous sense of humor. He was known to make movies that started serious and turned into black comedies as it slowly became clear to him that he couldn't keep a straight face behind the camera. It explains why Jack's madness slowly ramps up to "cartoonish" levels as the film goes on. Kubrick meant for you to laugh at Jack even as the situation creeped you out--the whole thing is one big live-action cartoon.
A cartoon about the Kennedy assassination being a CIA operation, of course. See, the references to July 4th in the final scene...
Thursday, February 16, 2012
Life Lessons From 'The Lion King'
1) When there isn't enough for everyone, it's just better to have a class of privileged few who get the majority of the resources and an underclass who are forced to live in a ghetto and eat scraps. It's the natural way of things, and trying to change that by giving more to the lower classes will just result in disaster.
2) The rest of us should be happy to be ruled over by a group of predatory overlords who will devour us whole should we become sick or weak. Someday, eventually, in a vague and symbolic manner, karma will even things up.
3) Physical strength and charm are the defining characteristics for a leader; someone smart is probably just evil anyway. Don't listen to them.
4) Likewise, leadership should be hereditary. Good genes define intangible traits like sound judgment and political skill. Even if there's no evidence of leadership exhibited by the son of a leader, simply putting him in charge will instantly bring those traits to the forefront and make him the superior choice.
5) In any family, accents will be entirely variable in terms of ethnic and socio-economic background; coincidentally, the voice that sounds whitest will always be the person the story revolves around, while British-sounding people are invariably evil. African-American voices usually mean that you will be wise and dignified...but also that you're probably going to die in the first act.
2) The rest of us should be happy to be ruled over by a group of predatory overlords who will devour us whole should we become sick or weak. Someday, eventually, in a vague and symbolic manner, karma will even things up.
3) Physical strength and charm are the defining characteristics for a leader; someone smart is probably just evil anyway. Don't listen to them.
4) Likewise, leadership should be hereditary. Good genes define intangible traits like sound judgment and political skill. Even if there's no evidence of leadership exhibited by the son of a leader, simply putting him in charge will instantly bring those traits to the forefront and make him the superior choice.
5) In any family, accents will be entirely variable in terms of ethnic and socio-economic background; coincidentally, the voice that sounds whitest will always be the person the story revolves around, while British-sounding people are invariably evil. African-American voices usually mean that you will be wise and dignified...but also that you're probably going to die in the first act.
Sunday, February 12, 2012
Top Dog
The Westminster Dog Show is on even as I type; this is actually something of a favorite in our household, as it gives you a chance to see all sorts of incredibly cute dogs that I would never in my lifetime want to actually own. (St. Bernard's? Adorable. St. Bernard poop? This is why I only watch them on TV.)
And of course, the announcers are constantly talking about the reasons each dog were bred, their strengths, and the reasons people would want to own one. "One of the biggest dogs recognized by the American Kennel Club, the massive Mastiff loves being around people and is known to bond closely with his ‘family.’ A combination of grandeur and good nature as well as courage and docility, he was bred in England and used as a watchdog for more than two thousand years. The breed’s short coat can be fawn, apricot or brindle." (An actual quote from the American Kennel Club website, but I'm pretty sure that's what they read off when they introduce the dog.)
And hearing this, I suddenly pictured Jeremy Clarkson saying, "At least...that's what the Kennel Club says. We wanted to see if it was actually true. So we had the Stig take this 2011 Mastiff out for a walk out on our test course." And then it'd cut to a sequence of a man wearing a racing suit and face-concealing driving helmet, going out for a walk with a mastiff while Clarkson delivered a monologue consisting of things like, "The Mastiff's reputation is of a watchdog, but frankly, if this Mastiff is a watchdog, it's a watchdog that loses at least two minutes a day." Then perhaps there'd be a long montage of them trying to breed their own dogs, and a celebrity coming on the show to take out a dog for a spin around the track.
And naturally, the show titles itself. "Top Dog".
Oh, go on. You know you want to see it.
And of course, the announcers are constantly talking about the reasons each dog were bred, their strengths, and the reasons people would want to own one. "One of the biggest dogs recognized by the American Kennel Club, the massive Mastiff loves being around people and is known to bond closely with his ‘family.’ A combination of grandeur and good nature as well as courage and docility, he was bred in England and used as a watchdog for more than two thousand years. The breed’s short coat can be fawn, apricot or brindle." (An actual quote from the American Kennel Club website, but I'm pretty sure that's what they read off when they introduce the dog.)
And hearing this, I suddenly pictured Jeremy Clarkson saying, "At least...that's what the Kennel Club says. We wanted to see if it was actually true. So we had the Stig take this 2011 Mastiff out for a walk out on our test course." And then it'd cut to a sequence of a man wearing a racing suit and face-concealing driving helmet, going out for a walk with a mastiff while Clarkson delivered a monologue consisting of things like, "The Mastiff's reputation is of a watchdog, but frankly, if this Mastiff is a watchdog, it's a watchdog that loses at least two minutes a day." Then perhaps there'd be a long montage of them trying to breed their own dogs, and a celebrity coming on the show to take out a dog for a spin around the track.
And naturally, the show titles itself. "Top Dog".
Oh, go on. You know you want to see it.
Monday, February 06, 2012
Watchmen On My Mind
In the wake of the announcement of 'Before Watchmen', the whole topic of Alan Moore and DC is weighing on my mind. (Not tremendously, or anything. I won't suggest that when they showed the Avengers trailer just before half-time during a very exciting Super Bowl, I sat there lost in ennui because Alan Moore doesn't have the rights to 'Watchmen'. But I've been thinking about it a bit.)
And mainly what I've been thinking about is the 'Watchmen' contract. Per Alan Moore's deal with DC, the rights to 'Watchmen' revert to Moore and Gibbons within 1 year of the original story going out of print. Everyone knows that this is a big part of why DC continues to promote a 25 year-old property so aggressively; they need to keep selling it to keep the rights in their hands. And everyone agrees that this is a travesty, a perversion of the spirit of the original contract. But at that point, everyone just sort of sighs and throws up their hands in despair.
Why don't we force the book out of print?
I mean, I don't think it would be easy. But I think that a concerted grassroots campaign to get local comics stores to stop stocking 'Watchmen' so long as it's being published by DC, with the understanding that Moore and Gibbons would be able to reprint the book once they're the rights-holders, could really put a lot of financial pressure on DC if they made the decision to try to continue reprinting the series just to keep the rights. There would still be a few high-profile national chains, like Barnes and Noble, who probably couldn't be persuaded through grassroots effort, but if the whole thing went nationwide, they might cave in just for the PR value. And while DC might go to some extraordinary lengths to claim the book is still "in print" ("We're giving away promotional copies to this charity! Still in print!") ...they're as vulnerable to bad press as the next person. If sales actually suffered, they might have to give in.
Of course, this is easy for me to say--I already have a copy of 'Watchmen'. But I'm guessing that most comics fans do too. I'm game if you are...
And mainly what I've been thinking about is the 'Watchmen' contract. Per Alan Moore's deal with DC, the rights to 'Watchmen' revert to Moore and Gibbons within 1 year of the original story going out of print. Everyone knows that this is a big part of why DC continues to promote a 25 year-old property so aggressively; they need to keep selling it to keep the rights in their hands. And everyone agrees that this is a travesty, a perversion of the spirit of the original contract. But at that point, everyone just sort of sighs and throws up their hands in despair.
Why don't we force the book out of print?
I mean, I don't think it would be easy. But I think that a concerted grassroots campaign to get local comics stores to stop stocking 'Watchmen' so long as it's being published by DC, with the understanding that Moore and Gibbons would be able to reprint the book once they're the rights-holders, could really put a lot of financial pressure on DC if they made the decision to try to continue reprinting the series just to keep the rights. There would still be a few high-profile national chains, like Barnes and Noble, who probably couldn't be persuaded through grassroots effort, but if the whole thing went nationwide, they might cave in just for the PR value. And while DC might go to some extraordinary lengths to claim the book is still "in print" ("We're giving away promotional copies to this charity! Still in print!") ...they're as vulnerable to bad press as the next person. If sales actually suffered, they might have to give in.
Of course, this is easy for me to say--I already have a copy of 'Watchmen'. But I'm guessing that most comics fans do too. I'm game if you are...
Monday, January 30, 2012
My Game Show Idea
Actually, I have a couple of ideas for a game show. But my first idea, where contestants select from a variety of different briefcases that either contain large sums of money or angry marine lifeforms, was already stolen and used with some variations by NBC. Shame, really, because "Eel or No Eel" would have been a huge hit.
Seriously, though, I do have an idea for a game show, called "I'm Asking the Questions Here!" It would be a trivia show along the lines of "Who Wants To Be A Millionaire?", but in this version, the questioner is actually another contestant. Two contestants are chosen, one to be the Questioner and the other the Answerer, and the Questioner reads out ten questions to the Answerer. Each question is worth $10,000. But, and this is the tricky bit, the Questioner has to guess before they read the question whether or not the Answerer will get it right. Basically, they make a "side bet" on whether they think the Answerer is going to guess correctly...and they have to do it without seeing the correct answer themselves.
So if the question is, "Who won the 1968 Presidential election? A) Ronald Reagan, B) Hubert Humphrey, C) Richard Nixon, D) Lyndon Johnson?" The Questioner reads it to themselves. They decide this is an easy one. They bet on the Answerer getting it right. They then read the question...and while they can't change the wording at all, they can emphasize the reading however they want to...and the Answerer answers. If they get it right, they both bank $10,000 and move on to the next question. Wrong, and both get zero.
But here's where the strategy comes in: At the end, only the one who has the most right answers gets to keep the money. (Ties go into sudden death.) So it is to the benefit of the Questioner to try to deliberately mislead the Answerer into guessing wrong, either through stressing the wrong answer or bluffing with their body language. But the Questioner won't necessarily know the right answer any better than the Answerer. So the Answerer has to decide a) is the Questioner trying to lead me into answering wrong, and b) how likely is it that they're correct about which answer they're trying to lead me to?
(It would make sense for the Questioner to get more money if they bet on the Answerer getting it right, as that way they also have an incentive to help the Answerer and the Answerer wouldn't always be certain that the Questioner was trying to sucker them. It would also add strategy to the Questioner's game, because the more questions the Answerer got right, the higher the Questioner's pot. But they couldn't let them get too many right, or they'd lose it all.)
It'd be a little complex at first, but I think it would be much easier to follow in practice than it would to read about. And I think there'd be a lot of tension as the two contestants played bluff and counter-bluff. "I thought that you were going to guess wrong on that one, so I bet against you, but then I read the question and you guessed I was tricking you and picked another answer...but I had it wrong too, so the correct answer was the one I thought was wrong and was trying to trick you into guessing."
Tell me that wouldn't be a fun little headtrip of a show. Get someone kind of snarky to host and commentate on it, like Wil Wheaton or Seth Green, and it'd be huge.
Seriously, though, I do have an idea for a game show, called "I'm Asking the Questions Here!" It would be a trivia show along the lines of "Who Wants To Be A Millionaire?", but in this version, the questioner is actually another contestant. Two contestants are chosen, one to be the Questioner and the other the Answerer, and the Questioner reads out ten questions to the Answerer. Each question is worth $10,000. But, and this is the tricky bit, the Questioner has to guess before they read the question whether or not the Answerer will get it right. Basically, they make a "side bet" on whether they think the Answerer is going to guess correctly...and they have to do it without seeing the correct answer themselves.
So if the question is, "Who won the 1968 Presidential election? A) Ronald Reagan, B) Hubert Humphrey, C) Richard Nixon, D) Lyndon Johnson?" The Questioner reads it to themselves. They decide this is an easy one. They bet on the Answerer getting it right. They then read the question...and while they can't change the wording at all, they can emphasize the reading however they want to...and the Answerer answers. If they get it right, they both bank $10,000 and move on to the next question. Wrong, and both get zero.
But here's where the strategy comes in: At the end, only the one who has the most right answers gets to keep the money. (Ties go into sudden death.) So it is to the benefit of the Questioner to try to deliberately mislead the Answerer into guessing wrong, either through stressing the wrong answer or bluffing with their body language. But the Questioner won't necessarily know the right answer any better than the Answerer. So the Answerer has to decide a) is the Questioner trying to lead me into answering wrong, and b) how likely is it that they're correct about which answer they're trying to lead me to?
(It would make sense for the Questioner to get more money if they bet on the Answerer getting it right, as that way they also have an incentive to help the Answerer and the Answerer wouldn't always be certain that the Questioner was trying to sucker them. It would also add strategy to the Questioner's game, because the more questions the Answerer got right, the higher the Questioner's pot. But they couldn't let them get too many right, or they'd lose it all.)
It'd be a little complex at first, but I think it would be much easier to follow in practice than it would to read about. And I think there'd be a lot of tension as the two contestants played bluff and counter-bluff. "I thought that you were going to guess wrong on that one, so I bet against you, but then I read the question and you guessed I was tricking you and picked another answer...but I had it wrong too, so the correct answer was the one I thought was wrong and was trying to trick you into guessing."
Tell me that wouldn't be a fun little headtrip of a show. Get someone kind of snarky to host and commentate on it, like Wil Wheaton or Seth Green, and it'd be huge.
Thursday, January 26, 2012
Review: Apollo 18
Despite my utter disdain for 'The Blair Witch Project', the film that kick-started the genre, I've actually found myself with a serious fondness for found-footage horror movies. I loved 'Cloverfield', I adored 'Quarantine', I...well, okay, I ignored 'Paranormal Activity', but I said I was fond of the genre. I never said I was indiscriminate about it.
Given that, when 'Apollo 18' popped up on my radar, I made a mental note to give it a watch as soon as I got the opportunity. That turned out to be a Redbox rental well after it made its short, ill-received trip through theaters, but the drubbing the critics gave the film didn't dissuade me. I figured I'd give it a watch, and worst-case scenario, I'd be out a buck and 90 minutes.
Honestly, I wound up being pleasantly surprised. The movie does a lot of things right; the footage genuinely does look like NASA film from the 1970s in ways both large and small. The astronauts look like actual astronauts, not movie stars pretending to be astronauts. The jargon sounds right and isn't over-explained in a Hollywood way. The equipment looks authentic. The banter sounds like the kind of warmed-over private jokes that test pilots come up with, not like the over-polished work of a screenwriter. Even the film stock has that grainy quality you associate with shots from other moon landings. You can genuinely believe the opening statement that there's 84 more hours of this stuff lying around somewhere.
(That said, this may be part of the reason the film didn't do well in theaters. It's not like people routinely sit down and thrill to NASA footage.)
The tension of the mission builds at a nice pace, and it seems like the screenwriter thought about the alien lifeforms even if what we see on screen doesn't necessarily explain it outright. (The aliens tend to congregate in the bottoms of craters, suggesting that they prefer cold areas--this may be why the one inside the mission commander's suit goes "dormant" and curls up into its shell. They communicate over radio frequencies, a sensible evolutionary development for a lifeform that lives on an airless moon. And their "infection", despite being called that both by the astronauts and the Department of Defense, appears to be more of a venom or toxin spread by bites. All pretty logical.)
My only real complaint about the movie is that the most interesting part occurs a little too near the end. With one astronaut "infected", the other one is told that he will not be allowed to return to Earth for fear of contamination, and the pilot of the lunar orbiter is informed that he will not be given re-entry vectors if he allows him on board. This feels like the perfect opportunity to contrast the Apollo 13 "failure is not an option" mentality that NASA is known for, the belief that even the loss of a single astronaut in the service of space exploration is too much, with the cold-hearted, ruthless mentality of the covert world, where every man knows they're expendable for the "greater good". It felt like they could have spun that tension out for much longer, but instead it occurs right before the end. (Which brings up another question...how did NASA recover the footage?)
On the whole, I felt like it was a solid, respectable effort, and a worthwhile addition to the "found footage" genre. Not as good as, say, 'Cloverfield', but easily ahead of 'The Blair Witch Project'.
Given that, when 'Apollo 18' popped up on my radar, I made a mental note to give it a watch as soon as I got the opportunity. That turned out to be a Redbox rental well after it made its short, ill-received trip through theaters, but the drubbing the critics gave the film didn't dissuade me. I figured I'd give it a watch, and worst-case scenario, I'd be out a buck and 90 minutes.
Honestly, I wound up being pleasantly surprised. The movie does a lot of things right; the footage genuinely does look like NASA film from the 1970s in ways both large and small. The astronauts look like actual astronauts, not movie stars pretending to be astronauts. The jargon sounds right and isn't over-explained in a Hollywood way. The equipment looks authentic. The banter sounds like the kind of warmed-over private jokes that test pilots come up with, not like the over-polished work of a screenwriter. Even the film stock has that grainy quality you associate with shots from other moon landings. You can genuinely believe the opening statement that there's 84 more hours of this stuff lying around somewhere.
(That said, this may be part of the reason the film didn't do well in theaters. It's not like people routinely sit down and thrill to NASA footage.)
The tension of the mission builds at a nice pace, and it seems like the screenwriter thought about the alien lifeforms even if what we see on screen doesn't necessarily explain it outright. (The aliens tend to congregate in the bottoms of craters, suggesting that they prefer cold areas--this may be why the one inside the mission commander's suit goes "dormant" and curls up into its shell. They communicate over radio frequencies, a sensible evolutionary development for a lifeform that lives on an airless moon. And their "infection", despite being called that both by the astronauts and the Department of Defense, appears to be more of a venom or toxin spread by bites. All pretty logical.)
My only real complaint about the movie is that the most interesting part occurs a little too near the end. With one astronaut "infected", the other one is told that he will not be allowed to return to Earth for fear of contamination, and the pilot of the lunar orbiter is informed that he will not be given re-entry vectors if he allows him on board. This feels like the perfect opportunity to contrast the Apollo 13 "failure is not an option" mentality that NASA is known for, the belief that even the loss of a single astronaut in the service of space exploration is too much, with the cold-hearted, ruthless mentality of the covert world, where every man knows they're expendable for the "greater good". It felt like they could have spun that tension out for much longer, but instead it occurs right before the end. (Which brings up another question...how did NASA recover the footage?)
On the whole, I felt like it was a solid, respectable effort, and a worthwhile addition to the "found footage" genre. Not as good as, say, 'Cloverfield', but easily ahead of 'The Blair Witch Project'.
Tuesday, January 24, 2012
Strategies In America's Newest Covert War
Last night during the GOP debates, Newt Gingrich (now the presumptive front-runner for the Republican Presidential nomination) suggested that it was time to declare a "covert war" on Fidel Castro. Some might say that this was blatant pandering to the heavily anti-Castro Cuban-American populace in Florida by attacking an 85-year old man who no longer holds any political office in his home country, but I take Newt at his word. He has the strategic vision to declare a covert war on live television after all; what more can you want from the next President? (Presumably, he took notes from John McCain's "secret plan" to take out bin Laden.) As I believe in Newt's goal of covert war on Fidel, let me suggest a few strategies.
1) We begin with a propaganda battle. Plant newspaper articles suggesting that young people wear their pants all baggy and listen to the rap music, and that women wear scandalously short skirts. These will angry up Castro's blood, causing him to have to avoid the news on his doctor's orders.
2) Cut vital lines of communication. If Castro's children and grandchildren are unable to contact him, he will grow despondent. This is especially devastating as a line of attack as they already don't visit enough, and goodness knows they never write him. They might insist that they email him, but Castro has already explained to them multiple times that he doesn't know how to work that new-fangled computer they gave him for Christmas. The resultant argument will drive a wedge between Castro and his closest supporters.
3) Hire neighborhood children to play on Castro's lawn at all hours of the day and night. The resultant stress, and the dangerous levels of physical exertion needed to repeatedly charge out of his house and yell at them, will keep him exhausted and further deteriorate his health.
4) Jumble up his pills. This will force him to spend valuable time and energy re-sorting them into the little boxes labeled M-T-W-T-F-S-S, assuming he can actually get the dosages right (his eyesight isn't what it was, you know.) This will only worsen his physical condition, softening him up for the final blow...
5) Hide his dentures. With this masterstroke completed, Castro will only be able to eat mushy foods. Not only will this further his loss of physical health, it will also keep him from being able to even smile at the people of Cuba. Surely this crushing blow will finish off the evil dictator!
...and if it doesn't, they'll at least put him in a home.
1) We begin with a propaganda battle. Plant newspaper articles suggesting that young people wear their pants all baggy and listen to the rap music, and that women wear scandalously short skirts. These will angry up Castro's blood, causing him to have to avoid the news on his doctor's orders.
2) Cut vital lines of communication. If Castro's children and grandchildren are unable to contact him, he will grow despondent. This is especially devastating as a line of attack as they already don't visit enough, and goodness knows they never write him. They might insist that they email him, but Castro has already explained to them multiple times that he doesn't know how to work that new-fangled computer they gave him for Christmas. The resultant argument will drive a wedge between Castro and his closest supporters.
3) Hire neighborhood children to play on Castro's lawn at all hours of the day and night. The resultant stress, and the dangerous levels of physical exertion needed to repeatedly charge out of his house and yell at them, will keep him exhausted and further deteriorate his health.
4) Jumble up his pills. This will force him to spend valuable time and energy re-sorting them into the little boxes labeled M-T-W-T-F-S-S, assuming he can actually get the dosages right (his eyesight isn't what it was, you know.) This will only worsen his physical condition, softening him up for the final blow...
5) Hide his dentures. With this masterstroke completed, Castro will only be able to eat mushy foods. Not only will this further his loss of physical health, it will also keep him from being able to even smile at the people of Cuba. Surely this crushing blow will finish off the evil dictator!
...and if it doesn't, they'll at least put him in a home.
Wednesday, January 18, 2012
The Trouble With Romney
...is that he's dead. No, wait. That was 'The Trouble With Harry', a classic black comedy directed by Alfred Hitchcock. Romney isn't dead; his trouble is that he just acts like it.
Seriously, how does a party as smart about winning elections as the Republicans have been over the last three decades wind up with this guy? The Republican party has been a classic case of picking style over substance, choosing likeable candidates that you'd "want to have a beer with" who easily beat smarter, better prepared wonks. George W. Bush was an absolutely terrible President, but he won against two people who were better on paper because he noticed that they were short on charisma, didn't have great social skills, and used attack ads to reduce them to caricatures of themselves (the self-aggrandizing stiff, the flip-flopper.)
And they now have Romney? For Pete's sake, Romney is what you'd get if the Republican caricatures of Gore and Kerry had a kid together! Not only does he have Gore's utter lack of personal magnetism, but he has Kerry's inability to stick to a position...all combined, of course, with an utter tone-deafness to the rising anger against America's wealthy Wall Street bankers, in a year where that's going to matter. (The article today, that he's only paying 15% in income taxes, isn't what's going to hurt him. The fact that he said he made "not much money" in speaking fees, when in fact he made more than my house is worth, is what's going to kill him.)
Of course, I know why the Republicans are going to get stuck with Romney. It's elementary game theory. Of the four candidates remaining who aren't Romney, all of them know that if the others drop out, they'll attract the support of the losers and beat Romney. (With the exception of Ron Paul, who is never going to attract much support but who isn't in it to win an election so much as for the soapbox.) But for that reason, none of them wants to drop out, because they all are hoping for someone else to drop out and give them the victory. And with four candidates splitting the non-Romney vote, Romney wins.
But do they really want Romney? It doesn't appear so, and you'll see that play out in the general election. It's hard to run when even your own party doesn't like you, and I suspect Romney's going to find out that they're not alone. It's pretty easy for your opponent to turn you into an unflattering caricature when you start out 99% of the way there.
Seriously, how does a party as smart about winning elections as the Republicans have been over the last three decades wind up with this guy? The Republican party has been a classic case of picking style over substance, choosing likeable candidates that you'd "want to have a beer with" who easily beat smarter, better prepared wonks. George W. Bush was an absolutely terrible President, but he won against two people who were better on paper because he noticed that they were short on charisma, didn't have great social skills, and used attack ads to reduce them to caricatures of themselves (the self-aggrandizing stiff, the flip-flopper.)
And they now have Romney? For Pete's sake, Romney is what you'd get if the Republican caricatures of Gore and Kerry had a kid together! Not only does he have Gore's utter lack of personal magnetism, but he has Kerry's inability to stick to a position...all combined, of course, with an utter tone-deafness to the rising anger against America's wealthy Wall Street bankers, in a year where that's going to matter. (The article today, that he's only paying 15% in income taxes, isn't what's going to hurt him. The fact that he said he made "not much money" in speaking fees, when in fact he made more than my house is worth, is what's going to kill him.)
Of course, I know why the Republicans are going to get stuck with Romney. It's elementary game theory. Of the four candidates remaining who aren't Romney, all of them know that if the others drop out, they'll attract the support of the losers and beat Romney. (With the exception of Ron Paul, who is never going to attract much support but who isn't in it to win an election so much as for the soapbox.) But for that reason, none of them wants to drop out, because they all are hoping for someone else to drop out and give them the victory. And with four candidates splitting the non-Romney vote, Romney wins.
But do they really want Romney? It doesn't appear so, and you'll see that play out in the general election. It's hard to run when even your own party doesn't like you, and I suspect Romney's going to find out that they're not alone. It's pretty easy for your opponent to turn you into an unflattering caricature when you start out 99% of the way there.
Wednesday, January 11, 2012
Strange Things I Find Myself Saying
I'm writing this blog on my lunch break at work, due to a catastrophic virus that has reduced my laptop to a paperweight until such time as I break down and reinstall the OS, and I find myself surprised at some of the conversations that go on. It's not a particularly exciting job, but somehow the discussions get actively strange. I'm not quite sure where it happens, either. One second I'm half-listening to a conversation on the merits of string cheese versus cottage cheese, the next I find myself speculating on whether or not cheese is actually a religion in Wisconsin, and if it is what the denominations might be.
I figure there's definitely Orthodox Cheddar, but is there a Reformed Mozarella? Perhaps a Seventh Day Gouda, established by a prophet who believed that the Armagorgonzolageddon was nigh at hand.
And what of the other faiths? Are yogurts considered to be pagan in the dairy world? Or do the nature-lovers worship milk, the original source of all other faiths?
And do these cheeses co-exist peacefully? Presumably they do, save for the Swiss. They're well-known for hole-y wars.
One thing I think everyone can agree on is that Velveeta considered to be the equivalent of Satanism. The antithesis of cheese, yet a cheese in and of itself, worshipped only by those who rebuke the whole concept of flavor itself. Hail Velveeta, the eternal and undying one!
Too many questions, not enough answers. Although it does answer why I get some strange looks at work...
I figure there's definitely Orthodox Cheddar, but is there a Reformed Mozarella? Perhaps a Seventh Day Gouda, established by a prophet who believed that the Armagorgonzolageddon was nigh at hand.
And what of the other faiths? Are yogurts considered to be pagan in the dairy world? Or do the nature-lovers worship milk, the original source of all other faiths?
And do these cheeses co-exist peacefully? Presumably they do, save for the Swiss. They're well-known for hole-y wars.
One thing I think everyone can agree on is that Velveeta considered to be the equivalent of Satanism. The antithesis of cheese, yet a cheese in and of itself, worshipped only by those who rebuke the whole concept of flavor itself. Hail Velveeta, the eternal and undying one!
Too many questions, not enough answers. Although it does answer why I get some strange looks at work...
Friday, January 06, 2012
Self-Taught Superheroes, Part Sixteen
It's weird, the way dreams shift. You don't really notice it until you're trying to explain the dream to someone; at the time, it all seems perfectly natural. But when you wake up and try to relate the dream to someone else, you suddenly hit a point where you have to say, "And then for some reason I was a female Buddhist warrior monk from a hidden monastery in Tibet that had existed outside of time for centuries, and I'd come to San Francisco to learn about the outside world after a dimensional convergence restored the monastery's connection with reality, and I got picked up with a bunch of other hostages in Chinatown but I knew that after my training with the monks, the manual labor the guards were making me do was easy and so I just bided my time with the infinite patience of someone who was totally connected to the universe and waited to find out what would happen next...um, and I didn't actually dream all that, I just sort of knew it."
In case it's not clear, that's what happened. Suddenly, in the dream, I was Shining Dragon Fist, and I'd been down there in the cells for weeks, and I just knew that. And they were taking us all out of the cells and lining us up, and the guards had guns trained on us. And there were people crying, and pleading, and talking in a whole bunch of languages (yeah, big shock, Lord Raptor turned out to be the kind of guy who decided anyone who wasn't a white male was only suited for manual labor.) And I just stared at them, totally calm. Totally controlled. But underneath it all, I could feel my...well, she calls it her qi, but I always think of it as the soul. I could feel it surging, ready to flow out of me in a fury of action. And then...
And then this guy came charging in, wearing this suit of armor that looked like it had been welded together out of spare parts. His hair was standing completely on end like he was too close to a generator...mainly because he had this weird freaking generator on his back, like the backpacks the Ghostbusters wore. You could actually see places where harsh, actinic light was leaking out where there wasn't enough shielding. And these hoses came out from the backpack and ran down the arms to nozzles just over the wrists. (He's refined the armor a lot since then, but my dream actually had a really clear, solid memory of Neutrino Man's first suit. Have I mentioned how much he scares me?)
Then he started shooting. Superheated steam blasted out, sending guards staggering backwards. Even through their armor, something conducted into their bodies and left them wobbly and dazed. (Again, something that he insists leaves no permanent side effects, and you can trust him because he's a nuclear physicist. One Word: Chernobyl.) The remaining guards shouted, "Shoot to stun! He's one of Lord Raptor's VIP prisoners!" Others who didn't have as much discipline were shouting questions about how he'd managed to build something like that while under guard, and a few medics had already started tending to the downed soldiers.
That was when I moved. It felt different in the dream. In real life, when I fight, it's like suddenly everyone else is moving in slow motion and I'm at normal speed. When I was dreaming I was Shu, it was like I was swimming, moving slowly but with ineffable grace and striking out at statues. Qi flowed from my fists, turning each punch into a blow that could shatter stone and each kick into a thundering assault that practically ignored the guards' armor. They didn't even know what hit them at first.
But there were a lot of them, and they had human shields. It didn't take long for them to get past the surprise and start threatening the hostages. "Stand down!" the leader shouted. "Stand down or we shoot them all!" For Shu, it wasn't even a contest. I gently put my hands on my head and slowly sank to my knees, making it clear that I wasn't a threat anymore.
"What about you, hero?" the guard captain said to Neutrino Man. "What do you say?"
Neutrino Man smiled. "I say five, four, three, two, one..."
And then all the lights went out at once.
TO BE CONTINUED...
In case it's not clear, that's what happened. Suddenly, in the dream, I was Shining Dragon Fist, and I'd been down there in the cells for weeks, and I just knew that. And they were taking us all out of the cells and lining us up, and the guards had guns trained on us. And there were people crying, and pleading, and talking in a whole bunch of languages (yeah, big shock, Lord Raptor turned out to be the kind of guy who decided anyone who wasn't a white male was only suited for manual labor.) And I just stared at them, totally calm. Totally controlled. But underneath it all, I could feel my...well, she calls it her qi, but I always think of it as the soul. I could feel it surging, ready to flow out of me in a fury of action. And then...
And then this guy came charging in, wearing this suit of armor that looked like it had been welded together out of spare parts. His hair was standing completely on end like he was too close to a generator...mainly because he had this weird freaking generator on his back, like the backpacks the Ghostbusters wore. You could actually see places where harsh, actinic light was leaking out where there wasn't enough shielding. And these hoses came out from the backpack and ran down the arms to nozzles just over the wrists. (He's refined the armor a lot since then, but my dream actually had a really clear, solid memory of Neutrino Man's first suit. Have I mentioned how much he scares me?)
Then he started shooting. Superheated steam blasted out, sending guards staggering backwards. Even through their armor, something conducted into their bodies and left them wobbly and dazed. (Again, something that he insists leaves no permanent side effects, and you can trust him because he's a nuclear physicist. One Word: Chernobyl.) The remaining guards shouted, "Shoot to stun! He's one of Lord Raptor's VIP prisoners!" Others who didn't have as much discipline were shouting questions about how he'd managed to build something like that while under guard, and a few medics had already started tending to the downed soldiers.
That was when I moved. It felt different in the dream. In real life, when I fight, it's like suddenly everyone else is moving in slow motion and I'm at normal speed. When I was dreaming I was Shu, it was like I was swimming, moving slowly but with ineffable grace and striking out at statues. Qi flowed from my fists, turning each punch into a blow that could shatter stone and each kick into a thundering assault that practically ignored the guards' armor. They didn't even know what hit them at first.
But there were a lot of them, and they had human shields. It didn't take long for them to get past the surprise and start threatening the hostages. "Stand down!" the leader shouted. "Stand down or we shoot them all!" For Shu, it wasn't even a contest. I gently put my hands on my head and slowly sank to my knees, making it clear that I wasn't a threat anymore.
"What about you, hero?" the guard captain said to Neutrino Man. "What do you say?"
Neutrino Man smiled. "I say five, four, three, two, one..."
And then all the lights went out at once.
TO BE CONTINUED...
Monday, January 02, 2012
Best Comedy Series on TV
Is anyone else watching "Finding Bigfoot"? Because this thing is either an absolute masterpiece of deadpan comedy on the level of This is Spinal Tap, or else it is one of the most perfect pieces of unintentional hilarity ever to be accidentally allowed on the airwaves. Right now, I am watching four grown men (well, three grown men and one grown woman) standing in the woods in the dark with a caged baboon, making loud screaming noises in an attempt to attract a "squatch". (The frequent use of "squatch" as a noun, an adjective, a verb, and an occasional interjection makes me wonder if I'm not watching an extremely strange version of "The Smurfs".)
And one of the cast explained that he was, and I quote, "fulfilling a lifelong dream" by taking a baboon out into the middle of the Catskills for the evening. I don't even know where to start with that, although it would probably be by researching New York's state laws on bestiality. This show is absolutely insane, in all the right ways. Oh, yes, and next week they're apparently going to be wandering through a Rhode Island forest with lighted torches. It's like watching a Darwin Award in progress.
Seriously, is this thing on Netflix or something?
And one of the cast explained that he was, and I quote, "fulfilling a lifelong dream" by taking a baboon out into the middle of the Catskills for the evening. I don't even know where to start with that, although it would probably be by researching New York's state laws on bestiality. This show is absolutely insane, in all the right ways. Oh, yes, and next week they're apparently going to be wandering through a Rhode Island forest with lighted torches. It's like watching a Darwin Award in progress.
Seriously, is this thing on Netflix or something?
Saturday, December 31, 2011
Fun Factoid of the Day
The first proper, official mention of the Time War comes during the novelization of 'Remembrance of the Daleks', when the Special Weapons Dalek recalls fighting in "the time campaign, the war to end all wars". This carries with it the interesting implication that for the Imperial Dalek faction at least, the Time War has (in part, at least) already happened. Meaning that perhaps this is the incident that Dalek Caan rescued Davros from...and the Seventh Doctor is participating in events out of synch with the Gallifreyan timestream. (Which is strangely in keeping with the Seventh Doctor's persona...)
It also confirms my general belief that the novelization of 'Remembrance' is actually the starting point for the 2005 series, conceptually if not actually. Which, in turn, confirms my general belief that Ben Aaronovitch is freaking metal.
It also confirms my general belief that the novelization of 'Remembrance' is actually the starting point for the 2005 series, conceptually if not actually. Which, in turn, confirms my general belief that Ben Aaronovitch is freaking metal.
Tuesday, December 27, 2011
If the 112th Congress Were Your Roommate
Day One: You settle into your apartment, and you each agree on an equitable share of rent and utilities. The two of you sign the lease, taking an equal share of responsibility for making the apartment work.
End of Month One: Your roommate explains that he's starting his own business, which should bring even more capital into the system. He explains that for a little while, he needs to reduce his contributions to rent, but that this will pay for itself in the long run. When asked about the short-term, he suggests that the household just "run a deficit" for a little while. He shows you his business plan, and you agree.
End of Month Two: You find out that the business plan your roommate had was just a bunch of random guesses, and he's not spending any of the money he withheld on his supposed new business. When you confront him on this, he gets very upset that you're calling him a liar, and insists that you're just greedy and want his money. He tells you that if you want to balance the household budget, you could maybe cut the food budget (since he's eating out all the time anyway) and cut back on your heart medication and maybe turn out the lights when you leave the room. After a five-hour argument, you agree to turn out the lights when you leave the room. He does not concede anything.
End of Month Three: You're now having to kick in extra money to make ends meet on the household budget. Your roommate responds to this by suggesting that since you're clearly "hoarding" money, he should respond by reducing his contributions even further to get his business going and make the household function again. You point out that he hasn't spent any of the money he already has on his business. He accuses you of hating babies and caring more about homosexuals than you do about him. You insist that he start contributing his fair share again. He suggests that you look at the bills again next month to see if things change. When you refuse, he threatens to stop giving you any money at all and to let the landlord evict the pair of you.
End of Month Four: Your income is now stretched pretty much to its limit, as your roommate isn't even giving you all the money he promised to give you. When you point this out, your roommate suggests that you could probably make up the shortfall by selling your car, as he knows a friend who's in the market for one. He admits that his friend is aware of your financial troubles and won't offer too much, but some money is better than none, right? You point out that this is a short-sighted plan that will wind up costing you more in bus fare than it saves in gas, and he tells you that beggars can't be choosers. Reluctantly, you agree to sell your car.
End of Month Five: Your roommate is now driving your old car. He doesn't see why you're upset about the agreement he had with his friend to share it if you wound up selling it.
End of Month Six: Your roommate refuses to pay the phone bill, because he no longer uses the landline. You point to the agreement you signed with both your names on it. He shrugs. You pay the phone bill.
End of Month Seven: Your roommate finally agrees to pay the phone bill. A few hours later, you hear him in his room violently arguing with himself. A few hours after that, he comes out of his room and explains that he can't pay the phone bill after all. He appears to have hit himself a few times.
End of Month Eight: After another five-hour long argument, your roommate finally admits that his business plan has a few problems. He agrees to create a new business plan. The next day, he shows it to you. It's the same business plan he showed you seven months ago, only with pie charts and a new name.
End of Month Nine: Your roommate mentions that he got another angry call from the landlord yesterday about the rent, and he's not happy about having to deal with it. He suggests that you maybe stop spending all your money on drugs and prostitutes and work on making the apartment a better place again.
End of Month Ten: You find out your roommate has a $1000-per-week drug habit and has been bringing hookers into the apartment when you're at work.
End of Month Eleven: Your roommate starts pointedly reminding you that the lease is up soon, and that he's not sure he can support a deadbeat like you anymore. When you point out that he hasn't actually paid you his share of this month's rent yet, he calls you greedy. You find him in your room a few hours later with a tape measure.
End of Year: You start looking for a different roommate. Your roommate insists on being present every time you talk to someone, and calls them all communists.
End of Month One: Your roommate explains that he's starting his own business, which should bring even more capital into the system. He explains that for a little while, he needs to reduce his contributions to rent, but that this will pay for itself in the long run. When asked about the short-term, he suggests that the household just "run a deficit" for a little while. He shows you his business plan, and you agree.
End of Month Two: You find out that the business plan your roommate had was just a bunch of random guesses, and he's not spending any of the money he withheld on his supposed new business. When you confront him on this, he gets very upset that you're calling him a liar, and insists that you're just greedy and want his money. He tells you that if you want to balance the household budget, you could maybe cut the food budget (since he's eating out all the time anyway) and cut back on your heart medication and maybe turn out the lights when you leave the room. After a five-hour argument, you agree to turn out the lights when you leave the room. He does not concede anything.
End of Month Three: You're now having to kick in extra money to make ends meet on the household budget. Your roommate responds to this by suggesting that since you're clearly "hoarding" money, he should respond by reducing his contributions even further to get his business going and make the household function again. You point out that he hasn't spent any of the money he already has on his business. He accuses you of hating babies and caring more about homosexuals than you do about him. You insist that he start contributing his fair share again. He suggests that you look at the bills again next month to see if things change. When you refuse, he threatens to stop giving you any money at all and to let the landlord evict the pair of you.
End of Month Four: Your income is now stretched pretty much to its limit, as your roommate isn't even giving you all the money he promised to give you. When you point this out, your roommate suggests that you could probably make up the shortfall by selling your car, as he knows a friend who's in the market for one. He admits that his friend is aware of your financial troubles and won't offer too much, but some money is better than none, right? You point out that this is a short-sighted plan that will wind up costing you more in bus fare than it saves in gas, and he tells you that beggars can't be choosers. Reluctantly, you agree to sell your car.
End of Month Five: Your roommate is now driving your old car. He doesn't see why you're upset about the agreement he had with his friend to share it if you wound up selling it.
End of Month Six: Your roommate refuses to pay the phone bill, because he no longer uses the landline. You point to the agreement you signed with both your names on it. He shrugs. You pay the phone bill.
End of Month Seven: Your roommate finally agrees to pay the phone bill. A few hours later, you hear him in his room violently arguing with himself. A few hours after that, he comes out of his room and explains that he can't pay the phone bill after all. He appears to have hit himself a few times.
End of Month Eight: After another five-hour long argument, your roommate finally admits that his business plan has a few problems. He agrees to create a new business plan. The next day, he shows it to you. It's the same business plan he showed you seven months ago, only with pie charts and a new name.
End of Month Nine: Your roommate mentions that he got another angry call from the landlord yesterday about the rent, and he's not happy about having to deal with it. He suggests that you maybe stop spending all your money on drugs and prostitutes and work on making the apartment a better place again.
End of Month Ten: You find out your roommate has a $1000-per-week drug habit and has been bringing hookers into the apartment when you're at work.
End of Month Eleven: Your roommate starts pointedly reminding you that the lease is up soon, and that he's not sure he can support a deadbeat like you anymore. When you point out that he hasn't actually paid you his share of this month's rent yet, he calls you greedy. You find him in your room a few hours later with a tape measure.
End of Year: You start looking for a different roommate. Your roommate insists on being present every time you talk to someone, and calls them all communists.
Thursday, December 22, 2011
The All-Crushed Team
I don't know about you, but I'm really excited to see the trailer for 'The Dark Knight Rises'. It looks like we're going to get a genuinely intelligent Bane, a socially-conscious Catwoman, and even some football. The scene where Hines Ward outruns not just the defense, but the collapse of Gotham City's football stadium, looks to be a major set piece. But who exactly are we going to see on the field, plummeting to their deaths behind Ward?
This came up at breakfast today...um, no, really, it did. I live in a strange household...and we were talking about who we'd want to see killed by Bane in a brutal attack on Gotham's most beloved football team. For starters, we're pretty sure it's going to be a gadget play, with Michael Vick and Tim Tebow both on the field. Tebow would take the direct snap, behind the old Denver offensive line, but would lateral the ball to Vick. Vick would be planning to throw the ball to Tebow, but would find that he was being covered by Deion Sanders (who probably came out of retirement again, just to show everyone he was still as good as he said he was.) With Albert Haynesworth and Bill Romanowski advancing on him quickly, he looked to dump the ball off to Terrell Owens, but he'd quit on the route. So he had to pray for a long bomb to Ward.
That's where we left off--anyone else you'd like to see on the field for that play? Leave your choices in the comments!
This came up at breakfast today...um, no, really, it did. I live in a strange household...and we were talking about who we'd want to see killed by Bane in a brutal attack on Gotham's most beloved football team. For starters, we're pretty sure it's going to be a gadget play, with Michael Vick and Tim Tebow both on the field. Tebow would take the direct snap, behind the old Denver offensive line, but would lateral the ball to Vick. Vick would be planning to throw the ball to Tebow, but would find that he was being covered by Deion Sanders (who probably came out of retirement again, just to show everyone he was still as good as he said he was.) With Albert Haynesworth and Bill Romanowski advancing on him quickly, he looked to dump the ball off to Terrell Owens, but he'd quit on the route. So he had to pray for a long bomb to Ward.
That's where we left off--anyone else you'd like to see on the field for that play? Leave your choices in the comments!
Monday, December 19, 2011
Why I Don't Like Ballot Initiatives
It should probably go without saying, but people who know me will tell you: I'm a pretty big fan of democracy. I vote, I encourage others to do the same...heck, I've even suggested in this blog that we make voting mandatory. It's not just a civic right, it's a civic duty, and it should be treated as such. And because I'm such a big proponent of democracy, it usually comes as a pretty big surprise to people that generally speaking, I think ballot initiatives are a terrible idea.
When someone said as much to me ("Are you against democracy?"), I replied with the simple statement, "No, but there's a big difference between democracy and mob rule." A ballot initiative is a single policy statement, made in a vacuum, usually vaguely worded and not made by experts. Rarely can those experts revise it subject to the realities of the situation. Frequently, the election surrounding it is subject to demagoguery and misinformation. To anchor your entire legal system around such statements generally cripples the creation of actual, sensible policy.
Take California, for example. California has been a big fan of the ballot system for a long time, and it shows in their budgetary crisis. They've had ballot initiatives that have overruled necessary-but-unpopular measures like tax increases with rules that hamstring the ability of the state legislature to raise money, passed by people who then turn around and complain that the legislature is ineffective in providing the services they need to live their daily lives. Initiative follows initiative follows initiative, like tying knots in a cord, until the law no longer stretches to where it needs to go.
Don't get me wrong, I'm not saying that lawmakers are always sensible and wise and all-knowing. I read the papers just like everyone else. But the solution is what it's always been. Elect better lawmakers. Term limits and ballot initiatives and other gimmicks to save our system of democracy from itself only create new loopholes for canny criminals to game; the best solution is what it's always been, to put our best people into office and let them make their best decisions.
And to stop voting Republican. Because by this point, it's pretty obvious that "our best people" excludes them almost by definition.
When someone said as much to me ("Are you against democracy?"), I replied with the simple statement, "No, but there's a big difference between democracy and mob rule." A ballot initiative is a single policy statement, made in a vacuum, usually vaguely worded and not made by experts. Rarely can those experts revise it subject to the realities of the situation. Frequently, the election surrounding it is subject to demagoguery and misinformation. To anchor your entire legal system around such statements generally cripples the creation of actual, sensible policy.
Take California, for example. California has been a big fan of the ballot system for a long time, and it shows in their budgetary crisis. They've had ballot initiatives that have overruled necessary-but-unpopular measures like tax increases with rules that hamstring the ability of the state legislature to raise money, passed by people who then turn around and complain that the legislature is ineffective in providing the services they need to live their daily lives. Initiative follows initiative follows initiative, like tying knots in a cord, until the law no longer stretches to where it needs to go.
Don't get me wrong, I'm not saying that lawmakers are always sensible and wise and all-knowing. I read the papers just like everyone else. But the solution is what it's always been. Elect better lawmakers. Term limits and ballot initiatives and other gimmicks to save our system of democracy from itself only create new loopholes for canny criminals to game; the best solution is what it's always been, to put our best people into office and let them make their best decisions.
And to stop voting Republican. Because by this point, it's pretty obvious that "our best people" excludes them almost by definition.
Thursday, December 15, 2011
An Interesting Interpretation of Stephen King's 'IT'
I re-read 'IT' recently...well, relatively recently. Time moves pretty fast when you have a busy life, which is why I'm posting my Monday entry on Thursday. The point is, on re-reading it, I was struck by the idea that It doesn't actually seem to be very intelligent. That is, in all the scenes where it's interacting with people, it seems to be calculating and manipulative, finding people's secret phobic pressure points and skillfully working on them to extract the utmost in paralytic terror...
But in the scenes towards the end that are told from Its perspective, it doesn't seem to be much more than a mindless animal that kills and eats and sleeps. And it's interesting to re-read it in that light and consider the idea that maybe It's not intelligent at all. After all, just because something is capable of complex behavior doesn't mean it's actually reasoning; beavers build very complicated dams, but they do so purely on instinct. What if It works the same way?
Assuming It's telepathic (which seems pretty obvious from the book), it seems likely that it's capable of finding and reflecting our fears without ever actually understanding what they are. "If I look like this," It says to Itself, "and I make these noises that I see in that person's head, it will make them scared because this is what they are most scared of." Whether that fear is the Creature from the Black Lagoon or prostate cancer, it doesn't really matter to It. The fear is ours, the shape comes from us. Like all the old stories of a glamour, what we really see is ourselves reflected back at us. Even its attempts to scare off the Losers is nothing more than the blind reflex of a cornered animal, no different from a cat hissing or a rattlesnake's rattle save that we give it a more nuanced texture with our own thoughts.
Which means, of course, that in the end It's faintly pathetic. Because if It needs fear, if It feeds on fear (something King is ambiguous about...at one point, he suggests that the feeding is only because it's such a primal fear, but at another, he suggests that the fear merely seasons the meat...) Then it's never realized that it could live just as long by scaring the same people over and over. We're always scared by the same stories, always trembling at the same myths. Unlike animals, who eventually calm down once they no longer have the threat of harm, people can be scared again and again and delight in it each time. Whatever It is, It's old and sad and probably needed to be put out of Its misery.
(Unlike Misery, who probably should have been left alive. That writer was just being a dick. But that's another post.)
But in the scenes towards the end that are told from Its perspective, it doesn't seem to be much more than a mindless animal that kills and eats and sleeps. And it's interesting to re-read it in that light and consider the idea that maybe It's not intelligent at all. After all, just because something is capable of complex behavior doesn't mean it's actually reasoning; beavers build very complicated dams, but they do so purely on instinct. What if It works the same way?
Assuming It's telepathic (which seems pretty obvious from the book), it seems likely that it's capable of finding and reflecting our fears without ever actually understanding what they are. "If I look like this," It says to Itself, "and I make these noises that I see in that person's head, it will make them scared because this is what they are most scared of." Whether that fear is the Creature from the Black Lagoon or prostate cancer, it doesn't really matter to It. The fear is ours, the shape comes from us. Like all the old stories of a glamour, what we really see is ourselves reflected back at us. Even its attempts to scare off the Losers is nothing more than the blind reflex of a cornered animal, no different from a cat hissing or a rattlesnake's rattle save that we give it a more nuanced texture with our own thoughts.
Which means, of course, that in the end It's faintly pathetic. Because if It needs fear, if It feeds on fear (something King is ambiguous about...at one point, he suggests that the feeding is only because it's such a primal fear, but at another, he suggests that the fear merely seasons the meat...) Then it's never realized that it could live just as long by scaring the same people over and over. We're always scared by the same stories, always trembling at the same myths. Unlike animals, who eventually calm down once they no longer have the threat of harm, people can be scared again and again and delight in it each time. Whatever It is, It's old and sad and probably needed to be put out of Its misery.
(Unlike Misery, who probably should have been left alive. That writer was just being a dick. But that's another post.)
Sunday, December 11, 2011
Top Ten Missing Episodes
For those of you who haven't heard the wonderful news, two more episodes of 1960s-era Doctor Who were recovered today ('Galaxy Four' Episode Three and 'The Underwater Menace' Episode Two), bringing the total of recovered episodes to 36 and reducing the number of missing episodes down to 106. As always, this is a day of rejoicing for Doctor Who fans; as I mentioned in my post over at Mightygodking.com, no other fandom can really understand what it's like to not be able to sit down and watch every episode of their favorite series.
Interestingly enough, one article (full disclosure, written by a friend of mine who has a very good blog called "The TARDIS Erudotorum") cited these episodes as "not on anyone's Top Ten list of episodes to be recovered." Which led me to the interesting question, what exactly would the Top Ten list be? So, I thought, why not give mine? Keeping in mind, of course, that we have to keep it to individual episodes (so no "All of 'Marco Polo'") and also that, suckily enough, we can wish as hard as we want but that won't make it happen. So here are my picks for the most desired recoveries, should a benevolent deity grant our wishes.
10-9. The Invasion, Episodes 1 and 4. This one is the most interesting, even though it's at the bottom of the list, because it's the most likely. Rumors have persisted for years, started by none other than the late Nicholas Courtney, that a private collector has copies of the two missing episodes of this classic late-Troughton story, but that they're holding the BBC over a barrel and demanding an exorbitant fee before they allow the Beeb to "recover" them officially. (Courtney claimed to have actually seen copies of the film, which had picture but no sound. The BBC, as with all missing episodes, has sound but no picture. Any A/V club geek could resolve that problem.) Of course, this one is already "restored", in the form of Doctor Who's only (canonical) animated episodes, but it'd be nice to be able to watch the story as interpreted by the actors and not the creators of "Danger Mouse".
8-6. Power of the Daleks, Episodes 1-3. This is actually one I'd love to have in its entirety, but I'm trying to stick to the "individual episodes only" rule, and I just don't have the space for the full serial. And from the sound of things, to be honest, all the good stuff really happens before the Daleks give up on being cunning manipulators and just start killing people; the first few episodes are filled with tense political intrigue and the Daleks actually being clever and subtle, which is such a twist for them that I'd love to see it. Couple that with Troughton's first three episodes in the role, and I would love to see it come back home.
5. The Tenth Planet, Episode 4. And speaking of "regeneration stories", this is probably a lot of people's Number One missing episode. It's certainly of tremendous symbolic significance; the final appearance of William Hartnell, the first actor to take the role, is a major cultural touchstone among fans of the series. But I suspect, having seen the first three episodes, that it's more interesting as a "religious relic" than as an actual story, which bumps it a bit below everything else on the list.
4. The Massacre, Episode 4. Yes, I know. It does seem a bit odd that I'm actually prioritizing the first appearance of Dodo over the final appearance of Hartnell, but I really want it for all the bits prior to that. This is, by all accounts, a remarkably intense episode, with a shocking and devastating climax to the events in France followed up by a genuinely emotional confrontation between Steven and the Doctor. It would be well worth the small price of Dodo's near-nonsensical introductory sequence to get the scenes preceding it.
3. Mission to the Unknown. This has always sounded like one of the truly fascinating, quirky episodes of the series; a one-part story in an era where six and seven-parters weren't at all unusual, a story that features absolutely nothing of the Doctor, not even a mention, and a story that ends with the nominal hero dying at the hands of the Daleks, the Doctor's arch-enemies, with his dying message lost. I don't think it'll ever have the impact that the original story had (especially when it was followed up on with a four-parter that had nothing to do with 'Mission'...for almost five weeks, fans watched the show with the lurking knowledge in the back of their heads that the Daleks were out there, getting ready to conquer the universe, and the Doctor didn't even know about it.) But I would dearly love to see it.
2. Evil of the Daleks, Episode 7. This is another "Dang, I want every one of the missing episodes of this one!" story. But if you can only have one on the list, then it's got to be Episode 7. Absolutely got to. The Doctor's final gambit against the Dalek Emperor, the revolt of the humanised Daleks, the civil war on Skaro...this was epic stuff, and we've been denied it.
1. The Daleks' Master Plan, Episode 12. And speaking of "epic", this was a freaking twelve-parter. That's almost a whole season, one of the grandest and most ambitious stories ever done in the history of 'Doctor Who'...and the climax, involving the death of a companion (well, possibly, depending on how you count these things) and the destruction of worlds and Daleks melting from existence and great big huge exciting stuff, is gone. Possibly forever. **sniff** Could we have it back, please?
Interestingly enough, one article (full disclosure, written by a friend of mine who has a very good blog called "The TARDIS Erudotorum") cited these episodes as "not on anyone's Top Ten list of episodes to be recovered." Which led me to the interesting question, what exactly would the Top Ten list be? So, I thought, why not give mine? Keeping in mind, of course, that we have to keep it to individual episodes (so no "All of 'Marco Polo'") and also that, suckily enough, we can wish as hard as we want but that won't make it happen. So here are my picks for the most desired recoveries, should a benevolent deity grant our wishes.
10-9. The Invasion, Episodes 1 and 4. This one is the most interesting, even though it's at the bottom of the list, because it's the most likely. Rumors have persisted for years, started by none other than the late Nicholas Courtney, that a private collector has copies of the two missing episodes of this classic late-Troughton story, but that they're holding the BBC over a barrel and demanding an exorbitant fee before they allow the Beeb to "recover" them officially. (Courtney claimed to have actually seen copies of the film, which had picture but no sound. The BBC, as with all missing episodes, has sound but no picture. Any A/V club geek could resolve that problem.) Of course, this one is already "restored", in the form of Doctor Who's only (canonical) animated episodes, but it'd be nice to be able to watch the story as interpreted by the actors and not the creators of "Danger Mouse".
8-6. Power of the Daleks, Episodes 1-3. This is actually one I'd love to have in its entirety, but I'm trying to stick to the "individual episodes only" rule, and I just don't have the space for the full serial. And from the sound of things, to be honest, all the good stuff really happens before the Daleks give up on being cunning manipulators and just start killing people; the first few episodes are filled with tense political intrigue and the Daleks actually being clever and subtle, which is such a twist for them that I'd love to see it. Couple that with Troughton's first three episodes in the role, and I would love to see it come back home.
5. The Tenth Planet, Episode 4. And speaking of "regeneration stories", this is probably a lot of people's Number One missing episode. It's certainly of tremendous symbolic significance; the final appearance of William Hartnell, the first actor to take the role, is a major cultural touchstone among fans of the series. But I suspect, having seen the first three episodes, that it's more interesting as a "religious relic" than as an actual story, which bumps it a bit below everything else on the list.
4. The Massacre, Episode 4. Yes, I know. It does seem a bit odd that I'm actually prioritizing the first appearance of Dodo over the final appearance of Hartnell, but I really want it for all the bits prior to that. This is, by all accounts, a remarkably intense episode, with a shocking and devastating climax to the events in France followed up by a genuinely emotional confrontation between Steven and the Doctor. It would be well worth the small price of Dodo's near-nonsensical introductory sequence to get the scenes preceding it.
3. Mission to the Unknown. This has always sounded like one of the truly fascinating, quirky episodes of the series; a one-part story in an era where six and seven-parters weren't at all unusual, a story that features absolutely nothing of the Doctor, not even a mention, and a story that ends with the nominal hero dying at the hands of the Daleks, the Doctor's arch-enemies, with his dying message lost. I don't think it'll ever have the impact that the original story had (especially when it was followed up on with a four-parter that had nothing to do with 'Mission'...for almost five weeks, fans watched the show with the lurking knowledge in the back of their heads that the Daleks were out there, getting ready to conquer the universe, and the Doctor didn't even know about it.) But I would dearly love to see it.
2. Evil of the Daleks, Episode 7. This is another "Dang, I want every one of the missing episodes of this one!" story. But if you can only have one on the list, then it's got to be Episode 7. Absolutely got to. The Doctor's final gambit against the Dalek Emperor, the revolt of the humanised Daleks, the civil war on Skaro...this was epic stuff, and we've been denied it.
1. The Daleks' Master Plan, Episode 12. And speaking of "epic", this was a freaking twelve-parter. That's almost a whole season, one of the grandest and most ambitious stories ever done in the history of 'Doctor Who'...and the climax, involving the death of a companion (well, possibly, depending on how you count these things) and the destruction of worlds and Daleks melting from existence and great big huge exciting stuff, is gone. Possibly forever. **sniff** Could we have it back, please?
Thursday, December 08, 2011
What's Worse Than Pedantry? Inaccurate Pedantry!
At this point, it's almost as big of a cliche as the cliche it's making fun of: Whenever someone says, "I want everyone to give 110%!" someone else responds with, "You can't give more than 100%. It's the maximum amount possible." Cue people smirking at the stupid guy who delivered such a tired and lame motivational gimmick, or at least that must be what people do because jokes about mathematical fallacies rarely bring in the real yuks.
Except that it is entirely possible to give 110%. If I work at a call center, and the goal for the week is to take seventy calls a day, and I take seventy-seven, I have given 110% of that goal. If I sell vacuum cleaners, and my average sales-per-week is 200 vacuum cleaners, and this week I sell 220, I have given 110% of my usual effort. If I am a running back, and my personal best is a 100-yard rushing game, and I have a 110-yard rushing game, I will have given--guess what? That's right, 110% of my personal best.
Numbers greater than 100% exist. They are used routinely in mathematics and everyday life. When you tell someone "You can't give more than 100%," all you are really telling them is, "I'm not only a smug and arrogant cynic, I'm also bad at math, too!" Which isn't exactly the message you want to be sending. (I hope.)
Except that it is entirely possible to give 110%. If I work at a call center, and the goal for the week is to take seventy calls a day, and I take seventy-seven, I have given 110% of that goal. If I sell vacuum cleaners, and my average sales-per-week is 200 vacuum cleaners, and this week I sell 220, I have given 110% of my usual effort. If I am a running back, and my personal best is a 100-yard rushing game, and I have a 110-yard rushing game, I will have given--guess what? That's right, 110% of my personal best.
Numbers greater than 100% exist. They are used routinely in mathematics and everyday life. When you tell someone "You can't give more than 100%," all you are really telling them is, "I'm not only a smug and arrogant cynic, I'm also bad at math, too!" Which isn't exactly the message you want to be sending. (I hope.)
Thursday, December 01, 2011
Crazy Fan Theory of the Day
Why stop with Season 6B?
Think about it. The stories normally associated with a Second Doctor who served as a secret, deniable agent of the Time Lords in between "The War Games" and "Spearhead From Space" feature a Patrick Troughton who looks considerably older than he did at the end of Season Six. (Admittedly, Steven Moffat chalks this up to "shorting out the time differential", and suggests that Time Lords revert back to their youthful state when no longer around their future selves, but he doesn't say that they can't look old because they're old.) He mentions his age as roughly 400-450 in "Tomb of the Cybermen", and Romana gives it as 759 in "The Ribos Operation", meaning that there's a 300+ year span of adventures in there (with plenty of room for gaps, especially in between "The Deadly Assassin" and "The Robots of Death", but the point is there's a lot of time to be accounted for.) And the Time Lords discuss a change of appearance, but they don't really present their actions at the Doctor's trial as a capital crime (or 1/13th of a capital crime.)
And when the Doctor regenerates, it is always into the form of a man in the prime of his life--of all the regenerating Doctors, only Pertwee was over 50 when he was cast in the part. And we don't see that regeneration. And according to fan lore, there's a gap in that space where missing adventures occurred. And the Third Doctor has plenty of suspicious gaps in his memories.
What if the Third Doctor, as well as the Second, operated for years as an agent of the Time Lords? After finally regenerating due to old age, he regenerated into a young, fit Jon Pertwee (who I for some reason picture as dressing like John Steed from 'The Avengers') who eventually, after a long period of service to the Celestial Intervention Agency, was finally sent to Earth to begin his official exile. This Season 6C, D, E, F, G, H, I, J, K, L, M, N, O, P, Q, R, S, T, U, V, W, X, Y and Z would also explain where the new Doctor picked up his driving skills, Venusian karate and aikido, and tattoo.
I propose that once the Past Doctor Adventures return, we...what? I can dream, can't I? I propose that once the Past Doctor Adventures return, we see the final adventure of the Troughton Doctor, and the first adventure of his young successor. What do you say, BBC?
Think about it. The stories normally associated with a Second Doctor who served as a secret, deniable agent of the Time Lords in between "The War Games" and "Spearhead From Space" feature a Patrick Troughton who looks considerably older than he did at the end of Season Six. (Admittedly, Steven Moffat chalks this up to "shorting out the time differential", and suggests that Time Lords revert back to their youthful state when no longer around their future selves, but he doesn't say that they can't look old because they're old.) He mentions his age as roughly 400-450 in "Tomb of the Cybermen", and Romana gives it as 759 in "The Ribos Operation", meaning that there's a 300+ year span of adventures in there (with plenty of room for gaps, especially in between "The Deadly Assassin" and "The Robots of Death", but the point is there's a lot of time to be accounted for.) And the Time Lords discuss a change of appearance, but they don't really present their actions at the Doctor's trial as a capital crime (or 1/13th of a capital crime.)
And when the Doctor regenerates, it is always into the form of a man in the prime of his life--of all the regenerating Doctors, only Pertwee was over 50 when he was cast in the part. And we don't see that regeneration. And according to fan lore, there's a gap in that space where missing adventures occurred. And the Third Doctor has plenty of suspicious gaps in his memories.
What if the Third Doctor, as well as the Second, operated for years as an agent of the Time Lords? After finally regenerating due to old age, he regenerated into a young, fit Jon Pertwee (who I for some reason picture as dressing like John Steed from 'The Avengers') who eventually, after a long period of service to the Celestial Intervention Agency, was finally sent to Earth to begin his official exile. This Season 6C, D, E, F, G, H, I, J, K, L, M, N, O, P, Q, R, S, T, U, V, W, X, Y and Z would also explain where the new Doctor picked up his driving skills, Venusian karate and aikido, and tattoo.
I propose that once the Past Doctor Adventures return, we...what? I can dream, can't I? I propose that once the Past Doctor Adventures return, we see the final adventure of the Troughton Doctor, and the first adventure of his young successor. What do you say, BBC?
Monday, November 28, 2011
I Atent Dead
I just haven't felt a whole lot like writing these last couple of weeks. Not in an "I'm depressed and miserable and sunk into my dark squalor of the soul" sort of way, just in a "writing feels too much like work and I'm taking a break" sort of way.
Then I remembered that the last time I did this, I started a blog to make myself write to a schedule so I wouldn't get into the habit of not writing. And oh yeah, this was it. So it's back to blogging, even if I don't feel like it. Today, we discuss being stupid.
Exhibit A: Governor Sam Brownback. For those of you who haven't heard, he's the governor of Kansas, and he apparently has given his staff orders to monitor Twitter and Facebook for mentions of his name. So when an 18-year-old girl on her way back from a school trip to the state capitol made a joke on Twitter about telling the governor that he "sucked", they went to the high school principal and read him the riot act. And he, being fully willing to pass the pain downward, summoned the girl in question to his office and berated her in an attempt to browbeat her into writing a letter of apology. The girl, to her infinite credit, refused.
(Well, okay, not to her infinite credit. After all, she is trying to make it a point of principle that she should be allowed to tell someone they suck so long as she meant it as a joke. Hopefully, she has learned a valuable lesson: You can never be sure that the person you're saying bad things about won't hear it. Never say anything to anyone that you'd be ashamed to say to their face.)
But the point is not about bullying, or about abuse of political power. The point is, and the reason why the governor (or, strictly speaking, his staff--he's apologized and disavowed the act, if you want to be charitable and assume he's telling the truth) was stupid, was because nobody would have heard about this if he hadn't said anything. Teenage girl saying "the governor sucks"? Tweeted to sixty people, most of whom forgot it two minutes later. Teenage girl being forced to write letter of apology to thin-skinned, tinpot dictator of a governor who has a paranoid obsession with social media? That's the kind of thing that's in the news for days, nationwide. What he did wasn't just an abuse of power, it was counter-productive.
It's like Harlan Ellison said, when talking about the man who rejected his screenplay for 'I, Robot'. "Every new director asked to see the script I wrote," Ellison said, "and he said, 'We're not making that script, he said I had the brains of an artichoke!' Which just goes to prove me right. After all, I wasn't spreading it around town."
Then I remembered that the last time I did this, I started a blog to make myself write to a schedule so I wouldn't get into the habit of not writing. And oh yeah, this was it. So it's back to blogging, even if I don't feel like it. Today, we discuss being stupid.
Exhibit A: Governor Sam Brownback. For those of you who haven't heard, he's the governor of Kansas, and he apparently has given his staff orders to monitor Twitter and Facebook for mentions of his name. So when an 18-year-old girl on her way back from a school trip to the state capitol made a joke on Twitter about telling the governor that he "sucked", they went to the high school principal and read him the riot act. And he, being fully willing to pass the pain downward, summoned the girl in question to his office and berated her in an attempt to browbeat her into writing a letter of apology. The girl, to her infinite credit, refused.
(Well, okay, not to her infinite credit. After all, she is trying to make it a point of principle that she should be allowed to tell someone they suck so long as she meant it as a joke. Hopefully, she has learned a valuable lesson: You can never be sure that the person you're saying bad things about won't hear it. Never say anything to anyone that you'd be ashamed to say to their face.)
But the point is not about bullying, or about abuse of political power. The point is, and the reason why the governor (or, strictly speaking, his staff--he's apologized and disavowed the act, if you want to be charitable and assume he's telling the truth) was stupid, was because nobody would have heard about this if he hadn't said anything. Teenage girl saying "the governor sucks"? Tweeted to sixty people, most of whom forgot it two minutes later. Teenage girl being forced to write letter of apology to thin-skinned, tinpot dictator of a governor who has a paranoid obsession with social media? That's the kind of thing that's in the news for days, nationwide. What he did wasn't just an abuse of power, it was counter-productive.
It's like Harlan Ellison said, when talking about the man who rejected his screenplay for 'I, Robot'. "Every new director asked to see the script I wrote," Ellison said, "and he said, 'We're not making that script, he said I had the brains of an artichoke!' Which just goes to prove me right. After all, I wasn't spreading it around town."
Saturday, November 05, 2011
Evil Toy Monkey--The Series!
One of my favorite MST3K movies is "Merlin's Shop of Mystical Wonders". I actually like it, even on a level above and beyond finding the riffing funny. The reason for this has a lot to do, strangely enough, with the decision to re-use footage from another movie to pad out the film.
For those of you who haven't seen the movie, it's the adventures of Merlin in the modern day; he decides to travel to the present and open up a store that sells enchanted tchotchkes in an effort to bring back belief in magic and restore the prestige of wizards. (Which actually sounds vaguely creepy, but...) The movie is clearly an old TV pilot that was repurposed as a movie after it didn't go to series, and the plot abruptly shifts halfway through to focus on a cursed toy stolen from Merlin's shop that he's trying to recover. (There's also a framing sequence that pads the film out further, which has Ernest Borgnine as a retired screenwriter telling the story to his grandkid.)
The thing is, only the first half is an old TV pilot. The second half is a heavily edited version of an existing movie, called "The Devil's Gift", about a cursed toy that slowly grows in power and threatens the life of a father and son. They cut the film down heavily, edited in some footage of Merlin looking for the toy (one of those little cymbal-playing monkeys, which does, in all fairness, look really damned creepy--every time it claps its cymbals, something dies.)
But the reason I like it is that in "The Devil's Gift", the story ends with the toy monkey just straight up killing everyone. At the end, after the hero (the dad) thinks he's gotten rid of the monkey for good, Grandma finds it and brings it home and it blows up the house with everyone inside it. Brutal, miserable, joyless, bleak, unsatisfying ending...but "Merlin's Shop of Mystical Wonders" changes it. In this version, Merlin shows up at the last second, stops the toy, and saves everyone. He takes it back to his shop, scolding it with the words, "I'll deal with you later," like he's dealing with a naughty pet.
I love this idea. I love the idea of Merlin actually going into the unhappy ending of another movie and stopping the main characters from dying. It feels like what a true hero should be doing, far moreso than the first half of the movie (the actual pilot, where Merlin delivers the comeuppance to an obnoxious reporter by luring him into dabbling with magic.) I think that they should do this with more old movies.
Hence my idea for the regular "Merlin's Shop of Mystical Wonders" series. Every week, they take an existing horror movie (like, say, "Night of the Living Dead") and recut it, adding in scenes of the Evil Toy Monkey being responsible for everything and Merlin wandering around looking for it. (Picture Barbara looking at the stuff on the mantelpiece, and then they cut to the Evil Toy Monkey.) And of course, at the end, when things were at their worst, Merlin would show up, grab the Evil Toy Monkey, and everyone would be saved! (Cut to shots of random zombies outside the farmhouse collapsing as the spell is broken.) And every week, Merlin would take the Evil Toy Monkey back to the shop, saying, "I'll deal with you later."
...or I could just be out of my ever-loving mind...
For those of you who haven't seen the movie, it's the adventures of Merlin in the modern day; he decides to travel to the present and open up a store that sells enchanted tchotchkes in an effort to bring back belief in magic and restore the prestige of wizards. (Which actually sounds vaguely creepy, but...) The movie is clearly an old TV pilot that was repurposed as a movie after it didn't go to series, and the plot abruptly shifts halfway through to focus on a cursed toy stolen from Merlin's shop that he's trying to recover. (There's also a framing sequence that pads the film out further, which has Ernest Borgnine as a retired screenwriter telling the story to his grandkid.)
The thing is, only the first half is an old TV pilot. The second half is a heavily edited version of an existing movie, called "The Devil's Gift", about a cursed toy that slowly grows in power and threatens the life of a father and son. They cut the film down heavily, edited in some footage of Merlin looking for the toy (one of those little cymbal-playing monkeys, which does, in all fairness, look really damned creepy--every time it claps its cymbals, something dies.)
But the reason I like it is that in "The Devil's Gift", the story ends with the toy monkey just straight up killing everyone. At the end, after the hero (the dad) thinks he's gotten rid of the monkey for good, Grandma finds it and brings it home and it blows up the house with everyone inside it. Brutal, miserable, joyless, bleak, unsatisfying ending...but "Merlin's Shop of Mystical Wonders" changes it. In this version, Merlin shows up at the last second, stops the toy, and saves everyone. He takes it back to his shop, scolding it with the words, "I'll deal with you later," like he's dealing with a naughty pet.
I love this idea. I love the idea of Merlin actually going into the unhappy ending of another movie and stopping the main characters from dying. It feels like what a true hero should be doing, far moreso than the first half of the movie (the actual pilot, where Merlin delivers the comeuppance to an obnoxious reporter by luring him into dabbling with magic.) I think that they should do this with more old movies.
Hence my idea for the regular "Merlin's Shop of Mystical Wonders" series. Every week, they take an existing horror movie (like, say, "Night of the Living Dead") and recut it, adding in scenes of the Evil Toy Monkey being responsible for everything and Merlin wandering around looking for it. (Picture Barbara looking at the stuff on the mantelpiece, and then they cut to the Evil Toy Monkey.) And of course, at the end, when things were at their worst, Merlin would show up, grab the Evil Toy Monkey, and everyone would be saved! (Cut to shots of random zombies outside the farmhouse collapsing as the spell is broken.) And every week, Merlin would take the Evil Toy Monkey back to the shop, saying, "I'll deal with you later."
...or I could just be out of my ever-loving mind...
Thursday, November 03, 2011
Amazing Race 19, Week Five
And after a second non-elimination leg this season (although arguably, the first one didn't really count as it was immediately followed up by a double-elimination leg) we take the short trip from Phuket to Bangkok. (Which does not make me feel quite as "twelve" as Phuket did, mainly because there are fewer ways to amusingly mispronounce it.) But first, there's some more Phuking to do. The teams set off by taxi to a place that gives elephant rides. Guess what they're doing?
Andy and Tommy, in first, get to the elephant ride, to the Road Block (where one partner has to dive into a pond and look for a package wrapped in burlap), through the Road Block, and back to their taxis all without apparently even seeing another Racer. In fact, they make it to the second Road Block (this leg's twist--each Racer has to do a separate Road Block instead of just one) before all the Racers have set out. Needless to say, this does not bode well for the Doublemint Twins.
The second Road Block is actually quite vicious, despite every team's anticipating it and trying to minimize it. The teams are first told they have to disassemble a Spirit House (a little model of a home with some tiny figurines present) and bring it to get the next clue...and only then told that one of them has to reassemble it, with no model or reference points beyond their own memory and the other models assembled a long taxi ride back the other direction. Andy and Tommy suspect it, but their memory isn't as good as they think it is, and they have to leave the Buddhist temple to get a second look. (And not, as might be suggested by their dialogue throughout the episode, because they are deeply offended by the temerity of foreigners to worship a god other than the One True Christ. Sorry, but evangelicals of any stripe rub me the wrong way.)
Jennifer is a lot nicer when she assembles her Spirit House, and she's also bright enough to borrow their cab driver's cell phone to snap a few pictures of the completed work for reference. I'll admit to some grudging respect for that, even if her brother and her bring out the worst in each other. The other teams show up, one by one, and separate themselves out into "smart enough to take notes" and "about to take an extra taxi ride." (Zac and Lawrence come the closest we've seen this whole race to bickering, as Zac repeatedly mentions that notes would be a good idea and Lawrence brushes him off, only to turn around and suggest that it's not his fault that Zac can't remember where everything goes.)
Meanwhile, several hours after the first team and a full hour after the closest team to them, Liz and Marie set off...and promptly hit a Speed Bump. Which they treat as the best experience of the entire Race, and quite possibly their whole lives to date. They get to shovel elephant manure (which they're actually happy about, so great is their love of pachyderms) and then wash an elephant...and yeah, I might be hardened and cynical, but it is hard to remain cynical in the face of twins cooing over an elephant and talking to it like it was their kitten. Definitely one of the high points of the Race so far.
After that, everyone jumps into buses to go to Bangkok. There is much drama over who gets on which bus and how much they have to spend on taxis, but at this point I will spare you some of the angst and cut to the chase: Nobody's stupid mistakes come back to haunt them because Liz and Marie are way behind, out of money, and relying on the kindness of strangers to limp to the Pit Stop. And they get eliminated. Which is a bit of a shame, as there are teams I liked less, but I wasn't enamored enough of the Doublemint Twins to get upset at their exit. And now there are seven, as we head to Malawi!
Andy and Tommy, in first, get to the elephant ride, to the Road Block (where one partner has to dive into a pond and look for a package wrapped in burlap), through the Road Block, and back to their taxis all without apparently even seeing another Racer. In fact, they make it to the second Road Block (this leg's twist--each Racer has to do a separate Road Block instead of just one) before all the Racers have set out. Needless to say, this does not bode well for the Doublemint Twins.
The second Road Block is actually quite vicious, despite every team's anticipating it and trying to minimize it. The teams are first told they have to disassemble a Spirit House (a little model of a home with some tiny figurines present) and bring it to get the next clue...and only then told that one of them has to reassemble it, with no model or reference points beyond their own memory and the other models assembled a long taxi ride back the other direction. Andy and Tommy suspect it, but their memory isn't as good as they think it is, and they have to leave the Buddhist temple to get a second look. (And not, as might be suggested by their dialogue throughout the episode, because they are deeply offended by the temerity of foreigners to worship a god other than the One True Christ. Sorry, but evangelicals of any stripe rub me the wrong way.)
Jennifer is a lot nicer when she assembles her Spirit House, and she's also bright enough to borrow their cab driver's cell phone to snap a few pictures of the completed work for reference. I'll admit to some grudging respect for that, even if her brother and her bring out the worst in each other. The other teams show up, one by one, and separate themselves out into "smart enough to take notes" and "about to take an extra taxi ride." (Zac and Lawrence come the closest we've seen this whole race to bickering, as Zac repeatedly mentions that notes would be a good idea and Lawrence brushes him off, only to turn around and suggest that it's not his fault that Zac can't remember where everything goes.)
Meanwhile, several hours after the first team and a full hour after the closest team to them, Liz and Marie set off...and promptly hit a Speed Bump. Which they treat as the best experience of the entire Race, and quite possibly their whole lives to date. They get to shovel elephant manure (which they're actually happy about, so great is their love of pachyderms) and then wash an elephant...and yeah, I might be hardened and cynical, but it is hard to remain cynical in the face of twins cooing over an elephant and talking to it like it was their kitten. Definitely one of the high points of the Race so far.
After that, everyone jumps into buses to go to Bangkok. There is much drama over who gets on which bus and how much they have to spend on taxis, but at this point I will spare you some of the angst and cut to the chase: Nobody's stupid mistakes come back to haunt them because Liz and Marie are way behind, out of money, and relying on the kindness of strangers to limp to the Pit Stop. And they get eliminated. Which is a bit of a shame, as there are teams I liked less, but I wasn't enamored enough of the Doublemint Twins to get upset at their exit. And now there are seven, as we head to Malawi!
Wednesday, November 02, 2011
Self-Taught Superheroes, Part Fifteen
"Page 4A," the man said, roughly yanking Lord Raptor's helmet off his head. "Last paragraph of the continuation of the front-page article." We still couldn't see who he was--Lord Raptor's helmet did a pretty good job of concealing people's identities along with protecting them from stun-blasts--but he had a pretty obvious mad-on for Lord Raptor. Which put him on our side.
He put his gun right up to Lord Raptor's cheek, prodding deeply into the flesh. Lord Raptor played it pretty cool, but you could see from his eyes that he was nervous. And he knew better than we did what that thing could do at close range. "'Several locals are missing in the wake of the attack; local authorities are co-operating with the federal government to investigate.' Sorry, but I decided not to wait."
"I don't know who you are," Lord Raptor said, his voice tight with tension, "but you should know you can't possibly get away with this. I have hundreds of men--"
"You can call me John Q. Public, pal. Nobody in particular, nobody someone like you would care about. The kind of guy someone like you steps on and ignores, right? You didn't even think about those people you kidnapped, the kids that might be waiting for them, the families that don't even know if they're alive or dead..." His finger tightened a little on the trigger. "Yeah, you might have hundreds of men. And they're all on the other side of this snazzy glowing wall of yours, aren't they? In here, it's just you and me."
Lord Raptor's eyes darted to the force field, then back to John Q. Public. (Which isn't his real name...I think...but it's what he calls himself, even to the rest of us. Josh has been trying to get him to open up, but he just kinda smiles and says he's fine answering to 'John'.) "Kill me, and they'll slaughter you."
"But you'll be dead," John replied. "I've been watching you for about a week now. Switched places with a guard during your raid on the steelworks in Pittsburgh. You talk big, but I'm pretty sure you don't have a lot you're willing to die for. You surrender now, tell your men to stand down and get the authorities in here, you get to live to try being crazy another day. You try to be a hero, I guarantee you're gonna be a martyr. I'm betting you won't take that trade."
The two of them stared at each other for a long moment. Josh and I looked at each other, then back to them. We weren't about to say anything, because we had no idea what to say or what to do. We were both pretty sure we didn't want anyone killing anyone...well, I was, and knowing what I know now about Josh I think he was, too...but it wasn't like we could do much about it. The tension turned seconds into minutes. Finally, Lord Raptor spoke. "Captain Williams!" he called out.
One of the men outside the field snapped into action. "Sir!" he responded, snapping off a salute.
"Contingency 14-B, I think," Lord Raptor said, as calmly as if he'd been ordering dinner. The captain snapped off a salute, and relayed the order through a comlink. "There, Mister...Public...we've activated Contingency 14-B. Now if you'll kindly put your gun away..."
"Not until I see this place so full of soldiers they can't breathe out too hard without being busted for fraternization, pal," John replied, giving a little jab with the gun to punctuate his sentence.
"I think you misunderstand," Lord Raptor said. He smiled, but it didn't touch his eyes. "Contingency 14-B means that we've put all of the hostages...formerly the laborers...under armed guard. There are currently seventy-two menials in the holding cells that are at hazard--not the full prisoner populace, of course, there are a few prisoners who have turned out to have valuable expertise that I'm not willing to lose--but more, I wager, than you're willing to sacrifice on my behalf."
He paused. "Think of all those sons and daughters, all those husbands and wives you'll have to break the sad news to. And all because you put my death ahead of their lives." He picked up his wine glass, raising it in a mock toast. "Or you can just put the gun down, surrender to my relatively tender mercies, and at least know that you saved seventy-two lives."
John's hand hung in the air for a second, but we could tell he'd already made his decision. He slammed the gun down onto the table without a word.
"There," Lord Raptor said. "Wasn't so hard, was it? Don't get me wrong, I admire your initiative, lad. But I have planned for every contingency. That's why these men follow me, because I know what to do in any eventuality."
That was when the force field switched off. A second later, so did the lights.
TO BE CONTINUED...
He put his gun right up to Lord Raptor's cheek, prodding deeply into the flesh. Lord Raptor played it pretty cool, but you could see from his eyes that he was nervous. And he knew better than we did what that thing could do at close range. "'Several locals are missing in the wake of the attack; local authorities are co-operating with the federal government to investigate.' Sorry, but I decided not to wait."
"I don't know who you are," Lord Raptor said, his voice tight with tension, "but you should know you can't possibly get away with this. I have hundreds of men--"
"You can call me John Q. Public, pal. Nobody in particular, nobody someone like you would care about. The kind of guy someone like you steps on and ignores, right? You didn't even think about those people you kidnapped, the kids that might be waiting for them, the families that don't even know if they're alive or dead..." His finger tightened a little on the trigger. "Yeah, you might have hundreds of men. And they're all on the other side of this snazzy glowing wall of yours, aren't they? In here, it's just you and me."
Lord Raptor's eyes darted to the force field, then back to John Q. Public. (Which isn't his real name...I think...but it's what he calls himself, even to the rest of us. Josh has been trying to get him to open up, but he just kinda smiles and says he's fine answering to 'John'.) "Kill me, and they'll slaughter you."
"But you'll be dead," John replied. "I've been watching you for about a week now. Switched places with a guard during your raid on the steelworks in Pittsburgh. You talk big, but I'm pretty sure you don't have a lot you're willing to die for. You surrender now, tell your men to stand down and get the authorities in here, you get to live to try being crazy another day. You try to be a hero, I guarantee you're gonna be a martyr. I'm betting you won't take that trade."
The two of them stared at each other for a long moment. Josh and I looked at each other, then back to them. We weren't about to say anything, because we had no idea what to say or what to do. We were both pretty sure we didn't want anyone killing anyone...well, I was, and knowing what I know now about Josh I think he was, too...but it wasn't like we could do much about it. The tension turned seconds into minutes. Finally, Lord Raptor spoke. "Captain Williams!" he called out.
One of the men outside the field snapped into action. "Sir!" he responded, snapping off a salute.
"Contingency 14-B, I think," Lord Raptor said, as calmly as if he'd been ordering dinner. The captain snapped off a salute, and relayed the order through a comlink. "There, Mister...Public...we've activated Contingency 14-B. Now if you'll kindly put your gun away..."
"Not until I see this place so full of soldiers they can't breathe out too hard without being busted for fraternization, pal," John replied, giving a little jab with the gun to punctuate his sentence.
"I think you misunderstand," Lord Raptor said. He smiled, but it didn't touch his eyes. "Contingency 14-B means that we've put all of the hostages...formerly the laborers...under armed guard. There are currently seventy-two menials in the holding cells that are at hazard--not the full prisoner populace, of course, there are a few prisoners who have turned out to have valuable expertise that I'm not willing to lose--but more, I wager, than you're willing to sacrifice on my behalf."
He paused. "Think of all those sons and daughters, all those husbands and wives you'll have to break the sad news to. And all because you put my death ahead of their lives." He picked up his wine glass, raising it in a mock toast. "Or you can just put the gun down, surrender to my relatively tender mercies, and at least know that you saved seventy-two lives."
John's hand hung in the air for a second, but we could tell he'd already made his decision. He slammed the gun down onto the table without a word.
"There," Lord Raptor said. "Wasn't so hard, was it? Don't get me wrong, I admire your initiative, lad. But I have planned for every contingency. That's why these men follow me, because I know what to do in any eventuality."
That was when the force field switched off. A second later, so did the lights.
TO BE CONTINUED...
Tuesday, November 01, 2011
Amazing Race 19, Week Four
Yes, I'm aware that I am significantly behind in my Race recaps. I don't know whether or not I'll be able to catch up, but I thought it over and decided that I would rather have the entire Race three weeks late than have it abruptly cut out midway through. After all, these entries have ages to be there after they cease being relevant as live events, but failure to finish is forever. So with that in mind, let's recap Week Four!
We begin in Jogjakarta again, with the teams heading to Phuket, Thailand. The Race dwells on this for a long time, making a fairly big deal out of the lead two teams' mistakes (they didn't spend enough time researching flights at the airport and wound up an hour behind everyone else instead of maintaining their lead...) But since it turned out that there was a huge Hours of Operation stopping point, the sequence is only really relevant for Lawrence's statement that he "couldn't remember" if he'd ever been to Thailand (either he's a very well-traveled man, or a really ambitious partier) and some really amusing mispronunciations of "Phuket". Yes, I am sometimes mentally twelve years old. Your point?
Frankly, I know that there's a lot of complaints about "bunching" on the Amazing Race, and generally I disagree with them. I think that winning a leg should be enough of a competitive advantage that teams want it, but making it insurmountable takes a lot of the excitement out of the Race. So I'm fine with bunching, in moderation. That said, this was a bunching point that happened after the show had tried to make a lot of drama out of who was going to get to Phuket first, and red herrings in a reality show are a little more obnoxious than usual.
Still, they made up for it with an excellent Detour. One choice involved making an artificial coral reef and placing it in a lagoon, which was difficult but could be completed quickly if the team worked together and knew their way around boats and water, and the other involved setting up beach chairs and umbrellas according to a display set up elsewhere on the beach, which was time-consuming but rewarded patience and attention to detail.
Only three teams, Liz/Marie, Cindy/Ernie and Lawrence/Zac, went straight for the beach chairs. As it turned out, there was a fairly brutal sting to this one; a strong wind sent their umbrellas blowing all over the place. Advantage: Coral! ...um, except that it's also hard to paddle in a strong wind, too. Oh, and there's a strong current to go with that strong wind, which practically disintegrates several teams' coral frames. By the time it's over, only two teams (Andy/Tommy and Jennifer/Justin) have managed to actually succeed in placing their coral; everyone else has moved over to the other leg.
Advantage: Liz/Marie, Cindy/Ernie and Lawrence/Zac! Well, except that Liz and Marie turn out to be really, really bad at sticking beach umbrellas into the ground so they'll stay. Despite getting to the challenge first, they are passed by every single team one after another until they're left to scream at each other, all alone. When the going gets tough, the tough bicker at each other and fail!
From there, the episode loses a certain amount of tension through no fault of the leg design. The teams have to do some actual navigating to get to the Road Block, which is a fairly well done rock climbing challenge (they actually make it about the climbing, not rappeling or using a mechanical climber, so athletic teams have a chance to gain time.) They then have to navigate to the Pit Stop as well, with an actual map! There's quite a bit of excitement over who will wind up in which position...with the unfortunate and clear understanding that the Doublemint Twins will be dead last.
And so they are...but lucky for them, elimination is staved off for at least one more week by Phil and his non-elimination wizardry. They get to move on from Phuket to Bangkok and try to make up some of the ground they lost. (I gotta say, even without the benefit of a couple of weeks of hindsight, it seemed unlikely.)
We begin in Jogjakarta again, with the teams heading to Phuket, Thailand. The Race dwells on this for a long time, making a fairly big deal out of the lead two teams' mistakes (they didn't spend enough time researching flights at the airport and wound up an hour behind everyone else instead of maintaining their lead...) But since it turned out that there was a huge Hours of Operation stopping point, the sequence is only really relevant for Lawrence's statement that he "couldn't remember" if he'd ever been to Thailand (either he's a very well-traveled man, or a really ambitious partier) and some really amusing mispronunciations of "Phuket". Yes, I am sometimes mentally twelve years old. Your point?
Frankly, I know that there's a lot of complaints about "bunching" on the Amazing Race, and generally I disagree with them. I think that winning a leg should be enough of a competitive advantage that teams want it, but making it insurmountable takes a lot of the excitement out of the Race. So I'm fine with bunching, in moderation. That said, this was a bunching point that happened after the show had tried to make a lot of drama out of who was going to get to Phuket first, and red herrings in a reality show are a little more obnoxious than usual.
Still, they made up for it with an excellent Detour. One choice involved making an artificial coral reef and placing it in a lagoon, which was difficult but could be completed quickly if the team worked together and knew their way around boats and water, and the other involved setting up beach chairs and umbrellas according to a display set up elsewhere on the beach, which was time-consuming but rewarded patience and attention to detail.
Only three teams, Liz/Marie, Cindy/Ernie and Lawrence/Zac, went straight for the beach chairs. As it turned out, there was a fairly brutal sting to this one; a strong wind sent their umbrellas blowing all over the place. Advantage: Coral! ...um, except that it's also hard to paddle in a strong wind, too. Oh, and there's a strong current to go with that strong wind, which practically disintegrates several teams' coral frames. By the time it's over, only two teams (Andy/Tommy and Jennifer/Justin) have managed to actually succeed in placing their coral; everyone else has moved over to the other leg.
Advantage: Liz/Marie, Cindy/Ernie and Lawrence/Zac! Well, except that Liz and Marie turn out to be really, really bad at sticking beach umbrellas into the ground so they'll stay. Despite getting to the challenge first, they are passed by every single team one after another until they're left to scream at each other, all alone. When the going gets tough, the tough bicker at each other and fail!
From there, the episode loses a certain amount of tension through no fault of the leg design. The teams have to do some actual navigating to get to the Road Block, which is a fairly well done rock climbing challenge (they actually make it about the climbing, not rappeling or using a mechanical climber, so athletic teams have a chance to gain time.) They then have to navigate to the Pit Stop as well, with an actual map! There's quite a bit of excitement over who will wind up in which position...with the unfortunate and clear understanding that the Doublemint Twins will be dead last.
And so they are...but lucky for them, elimination is staved off for at least one more week by Phil and his non-elimination wizardry. They get to move on from Phuket to Bangkok and try to make up some of the ground they lost. (I gotta say, even without the benefit of a couple of weeks of hindsight, it seemed unlikely.)
Wednesday, October 26, 2011
Self-Taught Superheroes, Part Fourteen
Bombs.
It was kind of at that moment that I remember it really sinking in for the first time, that the weirdness was all really real. It wasn't just that I was running around in a costume; real people had really been doing that for years. It wasn't even that I had actual honest-to-goodness superpowers. No, the moment where it fully sank in that the world had become something that we only used to see in movies or in comic books was when I heard Lord Raptor explain that he had an actual plan to hold the world's capitols for ransom by teleporting bombs into their national landmarks. It was like...I was about to say, "It was like finding out that James Bond was real," but that's not true. James Bond is easy to believe in. It was like finding out that the crazy guys he fights were all real, every single one of them. It was a weird, shivery feeling that I don't think has ever fully left me since that day.
I didn't have much time to think about it, though, because Lord Raptor was still explaining his plan. "The teleport devices can travel to any point on Earth just as easily as they can tune in to other dimensions, you see." He gestured, and the soldier inside the force field with him refilled his drink. "We still haven't managed to sustain the portal effect--we're extending the duration almost every day, but it's a matter of meeting the power requirements--but a couple of seconds is long enough for a bomb to pass through, especially when we materialize it beneath the bomb and let gravity do the rest."
He took another slurp of his wine. It was bad enough to be harangued by a megalomaniac, but did he also have to be a sloppy eater? The energy barrier was spotted with little flecks of food. uGH. "And of course, there's absolutely no defense against an attack like that. No matter how much security you have, no matter how carefully you guard, we can just drop a bomb into the center of the Oval Office. Or 10 Downing Street, or the Kremlin, or..." He waggled the hand holding a chicken finger, letting a splash of barbecue sauce splatter onto the tablecloth. "You get the idea."
"And you'll do it if they don't pay up," Captain Light said. His whole body was taut, like he was barely constraining himself from just throwing caution to the winds and seeing how many soldiers, war machines, and robots he could take out before they brought him down. (Oh, yeah. Robots. Humanoid from the waist up, ten-legged spiders from the waist down. In the dream the legs weren't even metallic, they were actual hairy ugly spider legs. Not an arachnophobe, but ICK!)
"I have no interest in money," Lord Raptor said. "Only the things it purchases. And in this case, my goal is pure research. My payment will be in plutonium, molybdenum, exotic metals...you get the idea. The sort of thing that can power reactors, construct additional fusion generators, build larger portals that can transport regiments. Once I can sustain a portal long enough to fully explore my new domain, I will of course repay my debts. Think of this as a small business loan to an American entrepreneur."
"Can I instead think of it as a crazy guy planning to blow up the White House if America doesn't give in to his terrorist threats?" I asked, my face a picture of mock innocence. "Because I kind of am."
"I expected as much from you, dear girl," he said. I kicked the force field under the table. It hurt my foot, but I felt a lot better. "You're little more than a child, educated in a liberal school system to believe all that hippie socialist nonsense they spout. But I had hoped that Captain Light might understand that we do not live in an ideal world."
"Doesn't mean we have to give in to our worst impulses," Captain Light snarled. His fists glowed. I don't think he even noticed. "You're a thug, a madman, a terrorist and a warmonger. You make a scientific discovery that outmatches Einstein, you find a whole new universe, and all you can think of is how to strip-mine it. If you expected me to condone this madness, I'm happy to disappoint you."
"How unfortunate," Lord Raptor said. "Still, I believe we have a few holding cells left open. You can join our menial laborers and contribute to the effort in your own small way."
"Holding cells?" I said.
"Menial laborers?" Captain Light said. We looked at each other, both thinking the same thing.
"An unfortunate necessity," Lord Raptor said. "We have a need for menial labor, and my men have better things to do than haul and carry. We have conscripted a few individuals into service--they'll be compensated for their efforts when all this is said and done, but for the moment, the threat of force will have to suffice. Mostly people of the lower classes, those who won't be missed--"
"Except by me," the 'waiter' said, pulling out his sidearm and putting it to Lord Raptor's head.
TO BE CONTINUED...
It was kind of at that moment that I remember it really sinking in for the first time, that the weirdness was all really real. It wasn't just that I was running around in a costume; real people had really been doing that for years. It wasn't even that I had actual honest-to-goodness superpowers. No, the moment where it fully sank in that the world had become something that we only used to see in movies or in comic books was when I heard Lord Raptor explain that he had an actual plan to hold the world's capitols for ransom by teleporting bombs into their national landmarks. It was like...I was about to say, "It was like finding out that James Bond was real," but that's not true. James Bond is easy to believe in. It was like finding out that the crazy guys he fights were all real, every single one of them. It was a weird, shivery feeling that I don't think has ever fully left me since that day.
I didn't have much time to think about it, though, because Lord Raptor was still explaining his plan. "The teleport devices can travel to any point on Earth just as easily as they can tune in to other dimensions, you see." He gestured, and the soldier inside the force field with him refilled his drink. "We still haven't managed to sustain the portal effect--we're extending the duration almost every day, but it's a matter of meeting the power requirements--but a couple of seconds is long enough for a bomb to pass through, especially when we materialize it beneath the bomb and let gravity do the rest."
He took another slurp of his wine. It was bad enough to be harangued by a megalomaniac, but did he also have to be a sloppy eater? The energy barrier was spotted with little flecks of food. uGH. "And of course, there's absolutely no defense against an attack like that. No matter how much security you have, no matter how carefully you guard, we can just drop a bomb into the center of the Oval Office. Or 10 Downing Street, or the Kremlin, or..." He waggled the hand holding a chicken finger, letting a splash of barbecue sauce splatter onto the tablecloth. "You get the idea."
"And you'll do it if they don't pay up," Captain Light said. His whole body was taut, like he was barely constraining himself from just throwing caution to the winds and seeing how many soldiers, war machines, and robots he could take out before they brought him down. (Oh, yeah. Robots. Humanoid from the waist up, ten-legged spiders from the waist down. In the dream the legs weren't even metallic, they were actual hairy ugly spider legs. Not an arachnophobe, but ICK!)
"I have no interest in money," Lord Raptor said. "Only the things it purchases. And in this case, my goal is pure research. My payment will be in plutonium, molybdenum, exotic metals...you get the idea. The sort of thing that can power reactors, construct additional fusion generators, build larger portals that can transport regiments. Once I can sustain a portal long enough to fully explore my new domain, I will of course repay my debts. Think of this as a small business loan to an American entrepreneur."
"Can I instead think of it as a crazy guy planning to blow up the White House if America doesn't give in to his terrorist threats?" I asked, my face a picture of mock innocence. "Because I kind of am."
"I expected as much from you, dear girl," he said. I kicked the force field under the table. It hurt my foot, but I felt a lot better. "You're little more than a child, educated in a liberal school system to believe all that hippie socialist nonsense they spout. But I had hoped that Captain Light might understand that we do not live in an ideal world."
"Doesn't mean we have to give in to our worst impulses," Captain Light snarled. His fists glowed. I don't think he even noticed. "You're a thug, a madman, a terrorist and a warmonger. You make a scientific discovery that outmatches Einstein, you find a whole new universe, and all you can think of is how to strip-mine it. If you expected me to condone this madness, I'm happy to disappoint you."
"How unfortunate," Lord Raptor said. "Still, I believe we have a few holding cells left open. You can join our menial laborers and contribute to the effort in your own small way."
"Holding cells?" I said.
"Menial laborers?" Captain Light said. We looked at each other, both thinking the same thing.
"An unfortunate necessity," Lord Raptor said. "We have a need for menial labor, and my men have better things to do than haul and carry. We have conscripted a few individuals into service--they'll be compensated for their efforts when all this is said and done, but for the moment, the threat of force will have to suffice. Mostly people of the lower classes, those who won't be missed--"
"Except by me," the 'waiter' said, pulling out his sidearm and putting it to Lord Raptor's head.
TO BE CONTINUED...
Monday, October 24, 2011
Amazing Race 19 Recap, Week Three
And so, after last week's Double Elimination, we are once again at the Episode 3-appropriate nine teams, all of whom are in Indonesia with only an hour or so separating the first place team from the one that barely squeaked by last time. And since they're not leaving Indonesia for this round, there will be no airport bunching, so that hour-long head start is going to matter a lot.
But not at the beginning, right? Because they start off with a bicycle ride through the streets of Jogjakarta, which is almost certainly just going to be a simple time-waster filled with local color, cute scenes of Andy and Tommy popping wheelies, and no chance for anyone to gain or lose spots going into the Detour...right?
Oh. Guess not. Looks like Ernie lost a pedal on his bike and by the time it was fixed, they dropped all the way to eighth. Well, that should put a little urgency into things.
And sure enough, it did. Not for Andy/Tommy and Laurence/Zac, who had a strong lead going into the Detour and made almost no mistakes as they went through the motions of feeding and watering a sheep(note the "almost", there; Andy and Tommy didn't fill up their grass bag all the way the first time, which gave Laurence and Zac a chance to catch up, while Laurence and Zac didn't read their clue all the way through and used extra buckets to fill the water trough faster, which will be significant later on.)
But the other teams had to move like crazy to get through the Detour. Lisa/Kaylani and the Doublemint Twins both decided to plant rice seedlings, while everyone else loaded themselves up with a pair of sheep and ran for it. They came out of the Detour in a very close pack...and then Marcus and Amani got there. This was kind of a theme of the episode, right up until the very end.
But before that end, there was a Road Block to get through, and this was the "brutal counting challenge" I mentioned last week. One member of each team had to climb to the top of an absolutely gorgeous Buddhist temple and walk around it counting statues of the Buddha...and recognizing, from the minimal hints given in the actual clue, that you had to not just count the statues but recognize that each one had a distinct hand position and you had to mimic that position when giving the count to the judges. The total number of statues was 69, but you actually had to give the judge a count of "17, 17, 17 and 18" while doing hand gestures. (No, not like that! Respectful and reverent hand gestures that the Buddha would make!)
Tommy and Laurence decided to work together, on the grounds that they got there at about the same time and get along well and are both nice guys and it's easier to do with two people counting. Have I mentioned how much more I enjoy the Race when it's got intelligent, competent, nice teams doing sensible things instead of starting pointless drama? They got the right answer on the first try, but it took them one more go before they figured out that they had to do the gestures. They sprinted off at the same time...but Andy and Tommy had to go pay their cabbie first, because they told him to wait. This was a) unbelievably significant for later, and b) why Laurence and Zac got to the mat first.
Only to get the Dreaded However from Phil. In this case, Phil finally mentioned that they misread their clue and incurred a 15-minute penalty. Not bad, but it was the difference between a comfortable second place and a trip to Dubai. (Andy and Tommy, by the way, were very sweet and apologetic to the other team when they checked in first.)
This left seven teams struggling to avoid last place. In theory, despite straggling in just as Andy and Tommy were leaving, Marcus and Amani should have had a huge advantage because Tommy just straight up told them the answer. Unfortunately, by this point in the Race, Marcus and Amani were already tired and frazzled enough that they just straight up forgot what Tommy told them by the time they got to the clue box, leaving them in the same boat as everyone else.
What followed was shot after shot of people wandering around, trying to figure out which statues they should be counting, how many there were, and how to report them to the judges. Numbers like 423, 201, and 68 got tossed around, but ultimately the teams had to pool their resources and work in groups to figure it out. Bill didn't join in, but he also figured it out on his own and got out of there before the other six teams. The Ernie/Marie/Jeremy/Justin axis figured it out not long afterwards, and bringing up the rear (but not by much) was Lisa and Marcus. After a pretty well-designed leg with clever challenges that actually force the Racers to think, it was still very close coming towards the Pit Stop.
Which is where that taxi thing came into play. Amani/Marcus and the Silence gained a huge lead in the final run to the Pit Stop because (ironically enough) their taxi drivers were so lousy that they figured they'd be better off getting a whole new driver if they had to go anywhere else. (In the case of the Silence, their taxi actually broke down about a half-mile from the Road Block and they had to hoof it.) Everyone else lost ground to one degree or another, which was why Bill got out of the Road Block in third but he and Cathi came in 7th, and why the Doublemint Twins dropped from the middle of the pack down to 8th, and why Lisa and Kaylani got eliminated.
All around, an exciting, close episode, and I'm looking forward to next week's Thailand leg!
But not at the beginning, right? Because they start off with a bicycle ride through the streets of Jogjakarta, which is almost certainly just going to be a simple time-waster filled with local color, cute scenes of Andy and Tommy popping wheelies, and no chance for anyone to gain or lose spots going into the Detour...right?
Oh. Guess not. Looks like Ernie lost a pedal on his bike and by the time it was fixed, they dropped all the way to eighth. Well, that should put a little urgency into things.
And sure enough, it did. Not for Andy/Tommy and Laurence/Zac, who had a strong lead going into the Detour and made almost no mistakes as they went through the motions of feeding and watering a sheep(note the "almost", there; Andy and Tommy didn't fill up their grass bag all the way the first time, which gave Laurence and Zac a chance to catch up, while Laurence and Zac didn't read their clue all the way through and used extra buckets to fill the water trough faster, which will be significant later on.)
But the other teams had to move like crazy to get through the Detour. Lisa/Kaylani and the Doublemint Twins both decided to plant rice seedlings, while everyone else loaded themselves up with a pair of sheep and ran for it. They came out of the Detour in a very close pack...and then Marcus and Amani got there. This was kind of a theme of the episode, right up until the very end.
But before that end, there was a Road Block to get through, and this was the "brutal counting challenge" I mentioned last week. One member of each team had to climb to the top of an absolutely gorgeous Buddhist temple and walk around it counting statues of the Buddha...and recognizing, from the minimal hints given in the actual clue, that you had to not just count the statues but recognize that each one had a distinct hand position and you had to mimic that position when giving the count to the judges. The total number of statues was 69, but you actually had to give the judge a count of "17, 17, 17 and 18" while doing hand gestures. (No, not like that! Respectful and reverent hand gestures that the Buddha would make!)
Tommy and Laurence decided to work together, on the grounds that they got there at about the same time and get along well and are both nice guys and it's easier to do with two people counting. Have I mentioned how much more I enjoy the Race when it's got intelligent, competent, nice teams doing sensible things instead of starting pointless drama? They got the right answer on the first try, but it took them one more go before they figured out that they had to do the gestures. They sprinted off at the same time...but Andy and Tommy had to go pay their cabbie first, because they told him to wait. This was a) unbelievably significant for later, and b) why Laurence and Zac got to the mat first.
Only to get the Dreaded However from Phil. In this case, Phil finally mentioned that they misread their clue and incurred a 15-minute penalty. Not bad, but it was the difference between a comfortable second place and a trip to Dubai. (Andy and Tommy, by the way, were very sweet and apologetic to the other team when they checked in first.)
This left seven teams struggling to avoid last place. In theory, despite straggling in just as Andy and Tommy were leaving, Marcus and Amani should have had a huge advantage because Tommy just straight up told them the answer. Unfortunately, by this point in the Race, Marcus and Amani were already tired and frazzled enough that they just straight up forgot what Tommy told them by the time they got to the clue box, leaving them in the same boat as everyone else.
What followed was shot after shot of people wandering around, trying to figure out which statues they should be counting, how many there were, and how to report them to the judges. Numbers like 423, 201, and 68 got tossed around, but ultimately the teams had to pool their resources and work in groups to figure it out. Bill didn't join in, but he also figured it out on his own and got out of there before the other six teams. The Ernie/Marie/Jeremy/Justin axis figured it out not long afterwards, and bringing up the rear (but not by much) was Lisa and Marcus. After a pretty well-designed leg with clever challenges that actually force the Racers to think, it was still very close coming towards the Pit Stop.
Which is where that taxi thing came into play. Amani/Marcus and the Silence gained a huge lead in the final run to the Pit Stop because (ironically enough) their taxi drivers were so lousy that they figured they'd be better off getting a whole new driver if they had to go anywhere else. (In the case of the Silence, their taxi actually broke down about a half-mile from the Road Block and they had to hoof it.) Everyone else lost ground to one degree or another, which was why Bill got out of the Road Block in third but he and Cathi came in 7th, and why the Doublemint Twins dropped from the middle of the pack down to 8th, and why Lisa and Kaylani got eliminated.
All around, an exciting, close episode, and I'm looking forward to next week's Thailand leg!
Friday, October 14, 2011
Cheap Joke of the Day
Pundit A: "The biggest problem Herman Cain has right now is that his economic plan is nothing but a collection of catchphrases and buzzwords disguising an incoherent disaster of an idea that will bankrupt the country, plunge the economy into another Great Depression, and cause the deaths of hundreds of thousands through the hardships of poverty and starvation, all while siphoning money to the pockets of the ultra-rich."
Pundit B: "I thought his problem was that he had trouble distinguishing himself from the rest of the Republican field."
Pundit A: "Po-tay-to, Po-tah-to..."
Pundit B: "I thought his problem was that he had trouble distinguishing himself from the rest of the Republican field."
Pundit A: "Po-tay-to, Po-tah-to..."
Thursday, October 13, 2011
An Entirely Unfair Partial Review Of 'And Another Thing'
I know. You're all probably thinking the same thing. "Why on earth would you even buy such a thing? 'Authorized sequels' to the works of famous dead authors tend to be on a par, in literary terms, with microwaved three-day old leftovers of gourmet meals. They are like finding out that the Lion's Tap is out of ground beef, so you decide to stop by McDonald's because you're really in the mood for burgers." (This is a reference that makes a lot more sense if you live in the Twin Cities.) "Why would you even bother reading one?"
The answer is, basically, that I really hated the ending of 'Mostly Harmless'. It was a bleak, morose read that even Douglas Adams said was not the place he wanted to leave the series, and it was only the fact that there was one deadline even the world's most famous procrastinator could not ignore that kept him from writing another book. A sequel to 'Mostly Harmless', even a sequel by someone who was decidedly not Douglas Adams (and really, apart from Douglas Adams and possibly Neil Gaiman, who is?) was superior to leaving the series where it ended.
And having gotten a bit over two-thirds of the way through the fully-authorized sequel, what do I think? Well, I'm not actually embarrassed to have bought it. But if I was Eoin Colfer, I think I might be embarrassed to have written it.
The real problem is the humor. Let's face it, Douglas Adams was known for creating brilliant, intricate, chinese puzzles of sentences that made his digressions so famous that everyone assumed he didn't create proper plots. (The actual truth is that he did create proper plots; it's just that his main characters made a point of not necessarily caring about them or even understanding them, so you had to read the novels several times to realize they had happened.) He was inventive, almost carelessly so, and his dialogue was full of strange and beautifully warped language.
And Colfer...Colfer is one of those people who thinks that it is tremendously funny to quote other people's jokes. He is the sort of person, in any conversation, who will try to crack you up by reciting Monty Python and never actually realizes he is the sort of person that XKCD made fun of. His attempts to pastiche Douglas Adams revolve around sly, winking little references to "forty-two" and ""Hotblack Desiato" and "tea" and the lines that Adams generally wrote a joke about and then moved on to writing new jokes about new things. He brings back characters as though this is generally more of a reunion special than an actual, proper book. And the plot, such as it is, mainly revolves around getting the characters out of the scrape they were in at the end of the last book and to what could reasonably be considered a happy ending. It is, suffice to say, not particularly ambitious.
And yet, I more or less expected exactly that. I didn't have high hopes for the book, I didn't really care if it would be any good--and that's not any kind of slight against Colfer, who I am given to understand is a very popular writer when he's not being asked to finish off someone else's story without the benefit of notes. So yes, it is unfair to complain about a book being bad when I didn't expect it to be good and haven't even finished it yet.
And yet, here I am doing it. This is why you couldn't pay me enough money to do an authorized sequel, because I know that there would be people out there like me waiting to write reviews like this about it.
The answer is, basically, that I really hated the ending of 'Mostly Harmless'. It was a bleak, morose read that even Douglas Adams said was not the place he wanted to leave the series, and it was only the fact that there was one deadline even the world's most famous procrastinator could not ignore that kept him from writing another book. A sequel to 'Mostly Harmless', even a sequel by someone who was decidedly not Douglas Adams (and really, apart from Douglas Adams and possibly Neil Gaiman, who is?) was superior to leaving the series where it ended.
And having gotten a bit over two-thirds of the way through the fully-authorized sequel, what do I think? Well, I'm not actually embarrassed to have bought it. But if I was Eoin Colfer, I think I might be embarrassed to have written it.
The real problem is the humor. Let's face it, Douglas Adams was known for creating brilliant, intricate, chinese puzzles of sentences that made his digressions so famous that everyone assumed he didn't create proper plots. (The actual truth is that he did create proper plots; it's just that his main characters made a point of not necessarily caring about them or even understanding them, so you had to read the novels several times to realize they had happened.) He was inventive, almost carelessly so, and his dialogue was full of strange and beautifully warped language.
And Colfer...Colfer is one of those people who thinks that it is tremendously funny to quote other people's jokes. He is the sort of person, in any conversation, who will try to crack you up by reciting Monty Python and never actually realizes he is the sort of person that XKCD made fun of. His attempts to pastiche Douglas Adams revolve around sly, winking little references to "forty-two" and ""Hotblack Desiato" and "tea" and the lines that Adams generally wrote a joke about and then moved on to writing new jokes about new things. He brings back characters as though this is generally more of a reunion special than an actual, proper book. And the plot, such as it is, mainly revolves around getting the characters out of the scrape they were in at the end of the last book and to what could reasonably be considered a happy ending. It is, suffice to say, not particularly ambitious.
And yet, I more or less expected exactly that. I didn't have high hopes for the book, I didn't really care if it would be any good--and that's not any kind of slight against Colfer, who I am given to understand is a very popular writer when he's not being asked to finish off someone else's story without the benefit of notes. So yes, it is unfair to complain about a book being bad when I didn't expect it to be good and haven't even finished it yet.
And yet, here I am doing it. This is why you couldn't pay me enough money to do an authorized sequel, because I know that there would be people out there like me waiting to write reviews like this about it.
Monday, October 10, 2011
Self-Taught Superheroes, Part Thirteen
Dreams are weird things. Even when they feel totally real, even when you're dreaming about something that really happened, things that make perfect sense and feel totally natural to you turn out to be utterly surreal when you wake up. You surface out of the dream wondering just what the heck was going on in your subconscious.
All that is by way of explaining that Lord Raptor didn't really serve us chilled monkey brains at dinner that day in his headquarters. There was also no course that involved slitting open a dead python stuffed with baby eels. We actually got chicken fingers and french fries, for the record. I guess Lord Raptor didn't trust us with the good silverware.
Actually, he didn't trust us, period. We sat next to him, one of us on each side, but his chair was separated by a shimmering curtain of pure force that I didn't think even Captain Light could bust. At least, not before the hundreds of armed soldiers charged us; we were at the grown-up's table, but this was a full-on mess hall for Lord Raptor's troops. I counted eight hundred men in all, not counting the kitchen staff. (Lord Raptor had a guy behind the force field with him, passing him food and drinks from a hatch in the wall. I'm not sure if it counts as paranoid when you have a guy who can punch a hole in the side of a battleship sitting next to you and glaring angrily.)
"You might not realize it," he said conversationally between bites of monkey brain, "but I'm actually something of a philanthropist." (No, I wasn't freaking dreaming that. He actually said that to us.) "I want to bring about a new Golden Age of prosperity for the American Empire. My men, my fortress...these are just sensible precautions, that's all."
"You're a petty thief with fancy toys," Captain Light replied. He wasn't eating, just sitting there with his arms folded and his face set in a stony glare. (I, um, kinda was eating. Hello, hyper-metabolism!) "Tell yourself whatever lies you like, that's never going to change."
"Thief?" Lord Raptor actually smiled behind his helmet, his eyes twinkling with mirth. "Definitely. Petty? Anything but." I had a weird flash of insight, a sudden understanding of why all those supervillains in the comics and the Bond movies talked at heroes instead of just killing them. He was a total narcissist; in his head, this was just the first act in some kind of mental script that ended with us giving in and admiring his genius. He wanted validation, and we were a means to that end.
"My Exploratory Corps--the men you see around us--do you really think they would remain so committed to simple looting and plunder?" His arms swept out as if to encompass all of his mercenaries in a giant hug. "No, they are true patriots to a man. Patriots who want their fair share of the prosperity they bring to the United States, of course, but that's part of the American Dream."
"Let me guess," I snarked. "You're going to take over the world? Enslave the lesser races, subdue the indigenous peoples, and strip-mine the natural resources of all the piddling countries out there that have the nerve not to speak English?"
"Oh, my dear girl, you wound me!" he replied. "My new America will merely be the first among equals. Once my new technology has been perfected, a whole new frontier will open for the human race. A frontier filled with vaster and more exotic resources than the human race has dreamt of in all its vistas of exploration."
"Oh," I said. "So your men aren't in this for the looting and plundering. They're in it for the noble harvesting of the resources of a vast new frontier. And I suppose this exotic new frontier has, perhaps, a few natives already living there before you discovered it?"
"To be honest," he said, "I'm not entirely sure. We've only been able to sustain the dimensional portal for a few seconds at a time, not long enough to send a team through. We need more capital and resources before we can begin to truly explore. That's why we--"
"Loot and plunder," Captain Light said. "But you don't enjoy it." He and I exchanged a glance. If the force field hadn't been between us, I would totally have high-fived him.
"No, it's a regrettable necessity that takes us towards a greater good," Lord Raptor said. "Much like the bombs I have at the ready, should Washington decide not to fund my plans."
TO BE CONTINUED...
All that is by way of explaining that Lord Raptor didn't really serve us chilled monkey brains at dinner that day in his headquarters. There was also no course that involved slitting open a dead python stuffed with baby eels. We actually got chicken fingers and french fries, for the record. I guess Lord Raptor didn't trust us with the good silverware.
Actually, he didn't trust us, period. We sat next to him, one of us on each side, but his chair was separated by a shimmering curtain of pure force that I didn't think even Captain Light could bust. At least, not before the hundreds of armed soldiers charged us; we were at the grown-up's table, but this was a full-on mess hall for Lord Raptor's troops. I counted eight hundred men in all, not counting the kitchen staff. (Lord Raptor had a guy behind the force field with him, passing him food and drinks from a hatch in the wall. I'm not sure if it counts as paranoid when you have a guy who can punch a hole in the side of a battleship sitting next to you and glaring angrily.)
"You might not realize it," he said conversationally between bites of monkey brain, "but I'm actually something of a philanthropist." (No, I wasn't freaking dreaming that. He actually said that to us.) "I want to bring about a new Golden Age of prosperity for the American Empire. My men, my fortress...these are just sensible precautions, that's all."
"You're a petty thief with fancy toys," Captain Light replied. He wasn't eating, just sitting there with his arms folded and his face set in a stony glare. (I, um, kinda was eating. Hello, hyper-metabolism!) "Tell yourself whatever lies you like, that's never going to change."
"Thief?" Lord Raptor actually smiled behind his helmet, his eyes twinkling with mirth. "Definitely. Petty? Anything but." I had a weird flash of insight, a sudden understanding of why all those supervillains in the comics and the Bond movies talked at heroes instead of just killing them. He was a total narcissist; in his head, this was just the first act in some kind of mental script that ended with us giving in and admiring his genius. He wanted validation, and we were a means to that end.
"My Exploratory Corps--the men you see around us--do you really think they would remain so committed to simple looting and plunder?" His arms swept out as if to encompass all of his mercenaries in a giant hug. "No, they are true patriots to a man. Patriots who want their fair share of the prosperity they bring to the United States, of course, but that's part of the American Dream."
"Let me guess," I snarked. "You're going to take over the world? Enslave the lesser races, subdue the indigenous peoples, and strip-mine the natural resources of all the piddling countries out there that have the nerve not to speak English?"
"Oh, my dear girl, you wound me!" he replied. "My new America will merely be the first among equals. Once my new technology has been perfected, a whole new frontier will open for the human race. A frontier filled with vaster and more exotic resources than the human race has dreamt of in all its vistas of exploration."
"Oh," I said. "So your men aren't in this for the looting and plundering. They're in it for the noble harvesting of the resources of a vast new frontier. And I suppose this exotic new frontier has, perhaps, a few natives already living there before you discovered it?"
"To be honest," he said, "I'm not entirely sure. We've only been able to sustain the dimensional portal for a few seconds at a time, not long enough to send a team through. We need more capital and resources before we can begin to truly explore. That's why we--"
"Loot and plunder," Captain Light said. "But you don't enjoy it." He and I exchanged a glance. If the force field hadn't been between us, I would totally have high-fived him.
"No, it's a regrettable necessity that takes us towards a greater good," Lord Raptor said. "Much like the bombs I have at the ready, should Washington decide not to fund my plans."
TO BE CONTINUED...
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