An Antidote to Book Snobery

Friedrich, one of the 2Blowhards has posted an interesting essay on the subject of Book People and their inherent snobery. He begins by comparing Book folk to Movie folk, saying, and I think rightly, that Movie people take the good with the bad and love it all. His primary example of the rollicking Movie Person is Quentin Tarantino. Now weather or not you like his films, you have to admit, Mr. Tarantino loves him some movies. All movies. From subtitled French Art House fair to Classics, to Hollywood trash, to grainy Hong Kong bloodbaths, it's all good in it's own way, damn the art vs. money debate. And I think Friedrich has a point. I'll let him explain it:

I find the gestalt of the book world oppressive; it gives me a pain and it makes me grumpy. And I'm often left wondering: how can books people say of themselves that they love books when they look down their noses at 90% of the books that are published? They disdain not just Stephen King but also self-help books, visual books, and trash biographies; they relish intense discussions about what measures up as a "real book" and what doesn't. (My staggeringly original response to this tiresome issue: They're all books, for god's sake.) IMHO, what books people love isn't books; what they love is their own standards, and their fantasies about what literature should be.

Movie people are usually hearty souls who don't mind a robust disagreement; books people cleave to what's been pronounced worthy. Tell a respectable publishing-world person that you like a Jackie Collins novel (and I liked the one I've read very much), insist that you see real merits in the book, and watch your interlocutor recoil in chagrin. She feels pity, pain and horror for your benighted soul. Tell a film world person, on the other hand, that you adored the movie version of "The Other Side of Midnight" (and I did), and he's likely to crack up and start telling you about all the gaudy trash that he loves too.

Now, he admits that this is a bit of a generalization and maybe so, but it gives you a snapshot of the dichotomy between the two worlds. Now, I for one don't know any true Book Snobs. Personally, I think the Book Snob is a rare creature, found only in academia and perhaps New York, where the publishing elite mingle incestuously. Though I recognize the tendency in my own tastes to know what he's talking about.

It's no secret that I don't like Stephen King's writing. And Mr. King is considered, well, the King of Middle of the road fiction. And even I admit, he can tell a story. But this is my problem: he's so thoroughly middle of the road. Friedrich hits on this point as well, that most people who love Movies, books, and food, love the visceral thrill of watching, imagining and eating, and what we really like is anything with flavor and color and texture. What we hate is the bland, steak-and-potatoes-every-night diet, the marketed-to-death Blockbuster that weíve all seen a hundred times, justwith different actors and diffeent settings. We cinematic and literary hedonists love anything that isnít boring and bland. And Stephen Kingís writing, for me at least is bland. It has no poetry, his stories do not wrestle with any Big Ideas. They're just good yarns.

Now, This doesn't mean I don't enjoy a good bit of trash writing every now and again. There's nothing finer than plowing headlong through an Edgar Rice Burroughs novel. I love the Warlord of Mars Books for their adventure, barely stifled sexuality and old fangled, pre-space age notions of science and science fictionality. Sure, Burroughs was a racist and a little too enamored with the eugenics movement but he wrote some finely plotted stories and at least tried to grab that old brass ring, and show a glimpse of the Big Picture of It All. But if we can judge by the Literary Darlings of the month (and I'm not saying we should but indulge me a moment) we are to believe that Burroughs, King, all those romance novels and everything in between from pot boiler sci-fi, to noir crime dramas are just so much stuff; not really anything to be read and certainly nothing we shuld seriously considder the writerly merrits of, oh no, certainly not, unless it's from the end of an upturned nose.

I, and Friedrich, disagree with this literary Conventional Wisdom. But, as Friedrich asks, "What might a more earthy, worldly, and pleasure-centric view of reading and writing be like? I've seen very few signs of such a thing so far."

Heís got a point there, too. Luckily though, he offers a potential solution:

How might a more roughhousing conversation about books and writing get started? I'm not sure, but I do have a hunch. One of the many things about the books world that that took me by surprise was that it hasn't gone through a guilty-pleasures phase. Remember what a kick it was when movie people started admitting that the lousy movies they loved gave them as much pleasure as they got from their art-movie faves? Books people, bizarrely enough, almost never allow themselves such indulgences.

His suggestion, and mine, is to be proud of your guilty reading pleasures. Carry them around with you. Sit on the train, reading Harry Potter, or, if you must, Jackie Collins or Stephen King. They may not be my tastes, but they certainly are someone's and with a well placed mass market, who knows who'll you'll meet and strike up a conversation with?

As for me, I'll be the guy at the front of the bus, his nose buried in a tattered copy of Tarzan.

Off to the Salt Mines!

So tomorrow, I start my new job as Webmaster for a project page at the University. The best part of the job is that it's a Graduate Assistantship, which means I get some of my class credit hours paid for, as well as a stipend (Yeah! Money! I get to eat this semester!) I'm looking forward to the challenge of the new job and a new semester. So a more substantial post tomorrow, I promise.

An Orcish Perspective

Experts in source-criticism now know that The Lord of the Rings is a redaction of sources ranging from the Red Book of Westmarch (W) to Elvish Chronicles (E) to Gondorian records (G) to orally transmitted tales of the Rohirrim (R). The conflicting ethnic, social and religious groups which preserved these stories all had their own agendas, as did the "Tolkien" (T) and "Peter Jackson" (PJ) redactors, who are often in conflict with each other as well but whose conflicting accounts of the same events reveals a great deal about the political and religious situations which helped to form our popular notions about Middle Earth and the so-called "War of the Ring.".

***

This tendency to distort the historical record recurs many times in T. Indeed, many scholars now believe the so-called "Madness of Denethor" in T (which depicts Denethor as a suicide) is, in fact, a sanitized version of the murder of Denethor by Aragorn through the administration of poison (possibly distilled from a plant called athelas ).

In contrast to T, the PJ redaction of Aragorn is filled with self-doubts and frequently rebuked by PJ-redacted Elrond. Probably this is due to PJ's own political and religious affiliations which seek, in particular, to exalt the Elvish claims to supremacy against Numenorean claims.

***

we can only guess at what the Sauron sources might have revealed, since they must have been destroyed by victors who give a wholly negative view of this doubtlessly complex, warm, human, and many-sided figure. Scholars now know, of course, that the identification of Sauron with "pure evil" is simply absurd. Indeed, many scholars have undertaken a "Quest for the Historical Sauron" and are searching the records with growing passion and urgency for any lore connected with the making of the One Ring.

~From LOTR: A Source-Criticism analysis by Mark P. Shea.

I had a similar thought while watching the movies. Wouldn't it be interesting to see some of the Orc or troll material? Find out what the Orc chieftain thought about all this fuss over jewelry? Perhaps further elaboration is deserved, when I haven't just spent ten hours driving across three states.

Link from Making Light

Political Fever Dream

"Mother of twelve bastards, imagine it, the president and the poet laureate all in one man. Washington wouldn't know whether to shit or go blind. This is a country incapable of acknowledging a leader with the ability to blow up the world and beautifully describe it. We demand specialization and strong drink."

~An impressive simulation of Hunter S. Thompson, as done by an anonymous e-mailer known only as "Steve," posted on Neil Gaiman's Blog, commenting on the ontological scuffle over who really wrote some bit of doggerel attributed to President G.W. Bush.

But seriously. It raises an apocalyptic point: Were G. W. to be the much touted Poet Dictator of Plato's feverish Republic, we really would be in it then. When he had liberated the city of Fiume from Yugoslavia, Gabriele D'Annunzio, The Anarchist poet turned necromancer and fascist would rise every morning, after celebrating the sunís setting the night before with debauchery and fireworks, to recite verse from his balcony. Given what we know of G.W.s proclivities, all youíd need to do in order to dress the image appropriately is scatter the flaming carcasses of napalmed Mohammedans about the Rose Garden, dangle the heads of Democrats from barbed poles greased with the entrails of liberals, add in the occasional random flyover of Stealth bombers dropping hand grenades disguised as Bibles into the arms of children, while G.W. looks on the whole scene with glasy eyes and that infinite smirk Then the earth would shake and the sky would belch brimstone as the great and terrible He read from his book of favorite poems (bound in the skin of the last baby snow owl):

Turning and turning in the widening gyre
The falcon cannot hear the falconer;
Things fall apart; the centre cannot hold;
Mere anarchy is loosed upon the world,
The blood-dimmed tide is loosed, and everywhere
The ceremony of innocence is drowned;
The best lack all convictions, while the worst
Are full of passionate intensity.

Surely some revelation is at hand;
Surely the Second Coming is at hand.
The Second Coming! Hardly are those words out
When a vast image out of Spiritus Mundi
Troubles my sight: somewhere in sands of the desert
A shape with lion body and the head of a man,
A gaze blank and pitiless as the sun,
Is moving its slow thighs, while all about it
Reel shadows of the indignant desert birds.
The darkness drops again; but now I know
That twenty centuries of stony sleep
Were vexed to nightmare by a rocking cradle,
And what rough beast, its hour come round at last,
Slouches towards Bethlehem to be born?

~W.B. Yeats, the Second Coming

Surely it would be The End.

"Le Roi est Mort"

On this day in 1880, Norton I, Emperor of the United States died.

Born in London, England on February 14, 1819 to John and Sarah Norton, Joshua Norton was a failed businessman living in San Francisco when, on September 17, 1859, he proclaimed himself Emperor of the United States and Protector of Mexico.

During his reign, Emperor Norton broke the Federal monopoly on currency by printing and distributing his own money, usually in 50cent denominations. These were accepted all over San Francisco by bar keeps and tavern owners. His various proclamations were published in the San Francisco Herald, though it is now suspected that some of the proclamations were written by the newspaper's editors for satirical purposes. One proclamation, though, is known to be authentic:

PROCLAMATION.

Norton I., Die Gratia, Emperor of the United States and Protector of Mexico, being desirous of allaying the dissensions of party strife now existing within our realm, do hereby dissolve and abolish the Democratic and Republican parties, and also do hereby decree disfranchisement and imprisonment, for not more than ten nor less than five years, to all persons leading to any violation of this imperial decree.

Norton I.

Given at San Francisco Cal., this 12th day of August, A.D. 1869

Known for his progressive attitude towards the city's large Chinese population, The Emperor once halted and dispersed a lynch mob by standing in the street, head bowed and praying.

His majesty was also a forward thinking civil planner, suggesting on September 21, 1872 that a survey be made to determine if a bridge or tunnel would be the best possible means to connect Oakland and San Francisco. This led to the construction of the Golden Gate Bridge.

On January 8, 1880, Norton I fell dead on the corner of California St. and Grant Ave. He was on his way to a lecture at the Academy of Natural Sciences. Emperor Norton I was buried at Masonic Cemetery. The procession was two miles long and more than 10,000 people turned out for the funeral.

ìEverybody understands Mickey Mouse. Few understand Hermann Hesse. Hardly anybody understands Einstein. And nobody understands Emperor Norton."

~Malaclypse the Younger, K.S.C.

Supply-Side Jesus and the Sermon on the Hill

The reckless liberalism of Jesus Christ cannot be allowed to take hold of the Christian values this great country has fought so hard to preserve.

~A message From Pat Robertson and the "Vote No on Jesus" Campaign

(Thanks to And Then... for the link).

Signals Through the Distant Void

Over at the Gamer's Nook we find startling evidence of Life on Mars!

OK, not really. But it's a fun bit of humor inspired by the Spirit Mission and based on what, just a hundred years ago, people really did think we would find on Mars. Back then we assumed that, because every inch of the Earth is inhabited by strange and exotic species, that likewise, every inch of the solar system would be as well. It's a nice bit of Edwardian parsimony, if a bit naive this late in the day. But just such startling notions gave rise to some of the greatest works of imaginative literature ever so it isn't a complete loss. But alas, it just is not true. Which is not to say that we won't find life out there eventually. I for one, think we will and soon. Heck, we may even find residual evidence of life on Mars but it certainly won't be the fecund Red Planet we dreamed it to be a hundred years ago. It might however, give us a sign of what to look out for, and anything that gives us incite in to how to prevent the Earth from becoming a deserted ball that some other species sends robots to study for signs of life one day in the future, the better.

The Secret Name of Things

Listen all you Democrats and Independents, all you week kneed liberals suffering for a sign; all you angry homos and wonton harlots; All you polibloggers, pundits, digital dream smokers; all you pixies, witches and suicide girls; all you black flag waversñ Listen:

Humanity has always invested heavily in any scheme that offers escape from the body. And why not? Material reality is such a mess. Some of the earliest "religious" artefacts, such as Neanderthal ochre burials, already suggest a belief in immortality. All modern (i.e. post-paleolithic) religions contain the "Gnostic trace" of distrust or even outright hostility to the body and the "created" world.

~Hakim Bey, The Information War

It is this ìGnostic traceî that guides our current regime in Washington D.C. So befuddled by the religious rhetoric of Spirit over Body are our leaders, that they threaten to kill us all. In order to save our souls, of course. What Bey calls the Gnostoc trace is the long and supremely held belief in one Big Lie: that there is a separation between body and soul. Well Iím here to say, there ainít no such thing.

They are one and the same thing. We are whole beings already. Undeliniated. Uncleaved. The lie that there is some glowing ball of light, somewhere in our gut that is from another planet where they donít sit down to take a crap (or even take a crap at all); the lie that says that once we die, that little ball of pure white, non-crapping, non-fornicating light will drift up into the sky and return to the cosmic fun house where it came fromñ Donít believe it. I donít know what happens when we die, or where we go when weíre through feeding worms and rotting in the ground. But if fairy tales about invisible Sky Fairies and Red Faced Boogie Men are the best thing they can offer, then I say shut the fuck up. Iíd rather go no place and be nothing forever after than spend the rest of eternity in church. The fact of the matter is this: Once you believe that whopper about heaven and hell and living in a fallen world full of sin, youíll believe any old thing they tell you, because every other lie, from the one about the ìEvil Doersî over There in that cold, foreign and dirty land to the ìFaith Based Public Worksî are all based on that first big Lie. The one even they believe.

But who cares? It's all "relative" isn't it? I guess we'll just have to "evolve" beyond the body. Maybe we can do it in a "quantum leap." Meanwhile the excessive mediation of the Social, which is carried out through the machinery of the Media, increases the intensity of our alienation from the body by fixating the flow of attention on information rather than direct experience. In this sense the Media serves a religious or priestly role, appearing to offer us a way out of the body by re-defining spirit as information.
~(ibid)

Shrub a Dub wants to be totally, intimately and carnaly aware of your Information. He wants to lick you up and down with his electronic eyeballs, to measure your soul-weight and body-surface and know your secret body-soul desires. He and uber lawgiver Crisco Johnny love the Big Lie. It gets them off and gives them your power, your vote. And if you think they wonít scare you into giving up your power-vote to them by shaking monkey masks and terror juju sticks come next fall, think again. Fear is their tool, just like lies and war and prison death camp violence. All violence is a sin against the body-soul. I may not believe in God but that one commandment, He got right.

Now, while there is no separation between body and soul, there should always be a separation between Church and State. While these convenient social fictions (Church and State are nothing more than ideas that we have all unconsciously agreed to believe in for the sake of Civilization), they can be seen as manifestations of Body (State) and soul (Church). They shouldnít be but often are. State and the Church are just further abstractions, meta-ideas created to give some tactile reality to an idea that must be conveyed, from mind to mind like some mental virus (a meme, in Info jargon). For if not conveyed, the idea disappears. The gods only exist so long as there is one person who believes in them. Stop believing in the gods and they die. Likewise, stop believing in the dirty memes that say your spirit is not your body and you no longer are complacent. When you arenít complacent you become nervous. Suspicious of those in power.

Hay, what are they doing to the environment? My body-soul has to live here! Quit dumping all that shit into the sky, motherfucker!! Thatís my sky! My river! Stop telling me what I canít put in my body-soul! That burning herb makes me glow from the inside out and if I want to glow all night long, to giggle and bark at the moon, thatís none of your business, so long as I show up for work on time and punch your fucking clock, earn my minimum wage, what do you care if I get high on the weekends? If I choose to dress up in fishnet stockings and all shiny beetle black leather, to dance and dream about love and death on a Saturday night and call it my religion, whatís it to you?

As you read these words, the Information Age explodes ... inside and around you - with the Misinformation Missiles and Propaganda bombs of outright Information Warfare.

~(ibid)

Wake up. The powers that be are lying to you. Not just about your body-soul but about the sacredness of your world-temple and your scripture-freedom.

ìOh you donít need all those trees and all that free space to move around and dance and sing in. let us take it for a while, abuse it for a bit. Weíll give you the illusion of safety and some pretty speeches about a bunch of shit you donít understand because weíve made all your gods into demons and talked them to death already.î

~ George W. Bush (translated via Secret Decoder Table I found in Poor Richardís Almanac)

Get nervous when you hear them lie. Then get angry. Then protest and rant and rave. Especially rave. Jump up and down and holler like youíve got spiders walking up your buttcrack. Jive all the way to New York next September. That will be our big rave. A party in the streets. Just because theyíre calling it the Republican National Convention doesnít mean itís all black ties and armbands. They call our love-making a sin, so what do they know about the secret name of things?

Traditionally, war has been fought for territory/economic gain. Information Wars are fought for the acquisition of territory indigenous to the Information Age, i.e. the human mind itself ... In particular, it is the faculty of the imagination that is under the direct threat of extinction from the onslaughts of multi-media overload ... DANGER - YOUR IMAGINATION MAY NOT BE YOUR OWN ... As a culture sophisticates, it deepens its reliance on its images, icons and symbols as a way of defining itself and communicating with other cultures. As the accumulating mix of a culture's images floats around in its collective psyche, certain isomorphic icons coalesce to produce and to project an "illusion" of reality. Fads, fashions, artistic trends. U KNOW THE SCORE. "I can take their images for reality because I believe in the reality of their images (their image of reality)." WHOEVER CONTROLS THE METAPHOR GOVERNS THE MIND. The conditions of total saturation are slowly being realized - a creeping paralysis - from the trivialisation of special/technical knowledge to the specialization of trivia. The INFORMATION WAR is a war we cannot afford to lose. The result is unimaginable.

~Information War

There, in the streets of New York Cityñ our holiest place, our Sodom-Gomorrah-Babylon-Jerusalem, weíll dance and shake our body-souls, and let them know: we arenít afraid. We arenít nervous. Weíre angry. And we arenít buying their lies anymore.


__________
Update: Link added, fnords vanquished.

Keeping Everything In Focus

There are more scientists alive today then at any other time in history. Likewise, the literacy level of not just the western capitalist societies but also the literacy rate the entire world is increasing with every year. The result is a boom in the arts and sciences; more people then ever before are meeting, sharing ideas and spreading information and not just in the traditional print and televised media but also across the Internet and through newly developing electronic media.

One of the most significant opportunities and greatest challenges provided by the information field today is keeping track of and distributing this bulk of information.

I first became aware of this phenomenon while working at Barnes and Noble as a bookseller. On a daily basis, people would come into the store looking for the latest book by their favorite author, or a magazine that featured an article on recent economic or technological news; once a month, at four thirty in the afternoon, we would be bombarded by calls and customers requesting the latest book announced by Oprah on her show that afternoon. Every summer, school children and their parents would come in, a dozen at a time, looking for the great classics of literature and I found it to be both a supreme challenge and an exquisite accomplishment in being able to help people find the book, magazine or movie; the information that they were searching for.

I have always had a love of literature. Both of my parents are teachers and instilled in me at an early age an appreciation for the arts in all their forms. Then one afternoon, a librarian friend and coworker of my wife came into the bookstore. I helped him find exactly the book he was looking for, without having to consult the computerized store database, as I was familiar with the section and author he was in search of. He suggested later to me that I might look into perusing a career as a librarian specializing in reference. I didnít think much of it at the time but later, I decided to look into the prospect of perusing just such a career, out of a desire to switch from a corporate retail atmosphere to the more refined environment of academia.

It is in just such an academic field that I wish to pursue a career as a reference librarian, a desire fostered, no doubt, as much by my upbringing by two dedicated academics as my innate love of books in general and literature in particular. This admiration for the arts and sciences is a necessary quality in the up and coming generation of librarians, in order that they may fulfill the needs of todayís varied institutions with a sincere and knowledgeable grounding in the information sciences. Acquiring a masterís degree in library science from the College of Information Studies will further my pursuit of a career as a Cataloger by providing me with the skills that are required in a field that is rapidly advancing towards being a hybrid of both traditional print and digital media.

***

This was my Entrance Essay for Grad School, hence the rather pedantic voice. Academics seem to like that sort of tone, as they keep asking for it in papers, over and over again. It must work, because it got me into the College of Library and Information Studies at the University of Maryland. I decided to post this essay, not just to show off my skills at writing Bullshit Academic Twaddle (a skill I have since honed in my first semester at University) but to answer a question often posed to me. Some people think it odd that I am going to Grad School in order to become a librarian.

Person: So, wait, you want to be a librarian?

Me: Well, yes.

Person: Why on Earth do you want to be a Librarian?!?

Thatís a good question. It isnít because I like the stress of being in school again after years of being outside of a rigorous academic environment and it certainly isnít for the fame or fortune. This combination of high stress and low yield led a friend and fellow Student Librarian to remark that the bar was never set so low. I tend to agree.

We Librarians donít do it for the money; a shocking and wholly alien concept in a capitalist society I know, but just try and imagine actually doing something you enjoy for a living. Which isnít to say that I enjoy being anal and filing things. As my wife can attest, Iím not the most well organized person and have a tendency to pile my clothes on chairs and leave dirty dishes in the sink.

I suppose itís partially to undermine the stereotype that Librarians are all middle-aged spinsters with prudish sensibilities and a vast collection of comfortable shoes.

Itís also partially to take a stand against the strident and disturbingly widespread a-literacy that threatens to overtake Western Civilization. This might sound like hyperbole to some but Iím serious. People may be reading more but they are understanding less. Our critical thinking skills are withering, most notably in the press, which, especially in this country where corporate media consolidation has drasticly doubled the number of mouthes but severely decreased the number of things they are saying. Itís not that people canít think critically anymore but that they simply donít want to. And technological advances, while helping to make our lives easier in many regards are aiding the spread of this problem. (Neal Stephenson goes into this phenomenon briefly in his novel, The Diamond Age where people are able to get by rather comfortably in life without ever having to really learn to read because everything is illustrated by moving pictures and dancing icons that convey just enough information to get by but not enough to understand why we should want to do anything more than just get by).

Now Iím not saying that I want to stop progress or go back to the way things were a hundred years ago. Thatís just silly Neocon talk and much to pat Buchananís chagrin, impossible. Iím not trying to conserve anything. I just want to preserve something that humans take for granted, namely their freedom to access Information without it being mediated by some do-gooding third party, restricted by a self appointed Big Brother, or classified into nonexistence by some dimwitted Corporatist monopoly, blithely stumbling towards fascism under the guise of Homeland Security and Tax Cuts for All (wealthy doners).

So yes, I want to be a Librarian. But not because I want to make the world a tidy place where everything is in order. In fact, I want just the opposite. I want a future rife with chaotic ideas. A world where multiple points of view and radical notions are shared freely. A future where we can debate the hell out of the newest, shiniest theory and progress towards something better without fear of pissing off some funnel-headed boob who thinks his old fangled King James Notions are the One Right Way for this and every other country.

__________
Update: Edited to remove fnords.

The Longest Day, Ever

On New years Eve, the wife and I went to a club with my sister-in-law to celebrate the new year. We had a blast! They played just the right balance of Goth, Eighties, and Industrial and we danced like their was no tomorrow. After a quick shower and change of clothes, we zoomed to the airport to catch our flight from San Antonio back to Savannah, with a quick layover in Memphis. Our second plane had only six people on it, seven if you include the Rudest Stewardess in the World.

Apparently our original stewardess was out partying, and didn't show up so they had to call in a backup, which delayed our flight by about thirty minutes. As tired as we were, Elvira and I didn't care. But boy did the Stewardess. She didn't bother to do the safety instructions, just told us to read the little card and ask her if we had any questions (we didn't especially mind this as by now I think the airplane safety and crash instructions have entered the Human Unconscious. Soon, babies will be born with an innate ability to use their chair cushions as flotation devices). But when it came time for her to hand out the drinks, she didn't even smile and ask, just leaned over and gave each of us a look that said, "What the fuck do you want now?!"

"Uh, Water, please."

Anyway, after 40 hours awake with only quick snoozes on the plane and a short nap once we got home, plus foraging for food in a city where every restaurant owner took the day off and seeing a great movie (if you get a chance, go see In America) the Longest Day Ever ended in a sleepy blur. My wife and I agreed that, while we had a lot of fun, we've gotten a little too old to do the dance-all-night-and-then-function-on-zero-sleep thing. Next year, we're making sure to buy seats on a plane that leaves later in the day. Or maybe the day after New Years Day.

Boldly Going Where Everyoneís Been Before

Regular readers will by now have figured out that Iím a big olí Science Fiction Geek. Now, us SFGs come in all manner of shapes and sizes, from the bookish, quiet hard-SFGs who can devourer whole mass market paper pack editions of the Uplift Series in one sitting to the socially inept, Hellboy T-shirt wearing Comix-SFGs who can quote Jack Kirby and know the episode numbers of old Simpsonís episodes. There are the Tolkienites, who have had mainstream exposure of late, thanks to the admirable work of Peter Jackson (and company) and the scary and all too dour Randroid-Heinelin SFGs who stalk cyberspace like some cyborg with half-baked political science theses programmed into the computer chip implanted in their brains.

Iím none of these. Iím more amorphous.

I like Neil Gaimanís books because he can write convincing, psychologically compelling characters but has no allegiance to realism. In other words, heís fun to read and doesnít take himself or his ideas seriously.

Much to my wifeís dismay, I like to watch Godzilla movies. Even I canít explain why, though I suspect it has something to do with primal sci-fi archetypes involving atomic bombs, dinosaurs and moth worshipping fairies.

Robert Anton Wilsonís brand of esoteric conspiracy theory, politics, the occult and scatological humor has definitely influenced the way I look at the world and Iím forever indebted to him (and the late Robert Shea) for writing the single greatest science fiction novel of all time, Illuminatus!.

Tangentially related to the Godzilla fixation is my love of old fifties B Sci-Fi movies such as The Day the Earth Stood Still, Anything with Ray Harryhausan monsters, like Jason and the Argonauts, Sinbad movies and The Beast From 20,000 Fathoms.

And like the stereotypical Librarian-Author I like to pretend I loathe television, while in reality I actually do watch some things on the tube and find them enjoyable. I grew up watching Star Trek TOS with my father on Sunday afternoon. Following the adventures of the only true captain of the Enterprise was the weird as fuck 70ís Buck Rogers (I think my first sexual feeling was looking at the luminous lip gloss that Erin gray wore as Capt. Wilma Deering wore) and of course, there was the incomparable Battlestar Galactica.

Who could forget the dramatic brass thunder of the classical music played over the shots of starry nebulas, those wonderfully feathered hairdos and sub par special effects? The concept of the series was pretty good but even then, at age five, I could tell that it wasnít living up to its potential.

The new miniseries changes that. I was really impressed with not just the production value but the little details they added, like giving the Vipers maneuvering jets and machine guns instead of lasers and characters with real names, relegating the goofy new age names to military call signs. The characters are much more rounded as well. I like the understated antagonism between Apollo and Adama and not bothered one bit in making Starbuck a woman. She has a great energy about her, a real cute, dykey quality that you donít often get on television. Upgrading the Cylons was a must and adding in the humanoid twist is pretty cool, even if not too terribly original (but easy to overlook once Number Six walks on screen. Thereís just something about leggy, blond homicidal robotsÖ)

The most interesting change though is Gaius Baltar. No longer a two dimensional, sociopathic fop with a chrome fetish, heís a character with genuine moral ambiguity, another rarity in TV Land. He may be full of himself and an asshole, but heís not evil, just a dupe who fell in love with a Cylon. So now, heís stuck between his desire to better his peopleís lives and save his own skin. This is definitely territory the old Battlestar never covered, even with Lorne Green leading them through the galaxy.

I really hope the new Battlestar Galactica gets picked up as a series as Iím in desperate need of something to replace Enterprise now that it is securely orbiting Planet Suck.

Which brings me to the Star Trek problem. And yes, it really is a problem. As goofy as The Original Series was, it is worlds above and beyond the stale piece of rehash that is Enterprise. And comparing that piece of space flotsam to TNG or the later DS9 is laughable. Enterprise is even worse than Voyager, if you can imagine such a thing.

Now, when I heard about the concept of Enterprise, I was excited. How could the idea of a Star Trek prequel not get any SFG salivating? Picture it:

Itís seven years before Captain Kirk takes command of the Enterprise. Captain Christopher Pike, having made a name for himself during the recently-ended Romulan War is put in command of the brand new flagship of Star Fleet, the Enterprise (yes, the original NCC 1701. No A, D, E or X). The crew could even be rounded out with the Enterprise regulars like Mayweather, Yoshi, Reed and even Trip (as annoying as he is). And though Jolene Blaylock fills out a catsuit nicely, she has to be the single most emotional Vulcan in the Alpha Quadrant. And a lousy actress. So I say replace her with a young Spock, played by James Marsters (Spike from Buffy. Come on, picture him in a Vulcan wig, with the ears. You know heíd be perfect for it).

And what with Romulans, Andorians, the Gorn and a hundred new species that could be dreamed up along the way, thereís no reason to rape continuity by having them run up against the Borg or Ferengi or the Cardasians, no matter how amusing it would be. Is it too much to ask that the writers try to push the boundaries a little and do something new?

Now, true, we already know the fate of Captain Pike, as weíve all seen the Cage but this would prevent the writers with an interesting challenge, to have the end of the series dovetail with that classic episode.

Well, a geek can dream. And Brandon Bragga, if youíre reading this, I can send sample pages. All I need is twenty four hours to write them.

_________
Adapted from comments placed over at Dohiyi Mir

By the Book

I'm in Texas visiting the in-laws and the big lotto is up to $155 million. So were thinking of picking some numbers and throwing in as a family for a ticket. My sister in-law, who is a sergeant in the Army and due to ship out to Iraq in March told me of an interesting occurrence a few months ago: A couple of GIs home on R&R from Iraq decide to buy a lotto ticket. They win several million dollars apiece and are rewarded instantly with honorable discharge. That's right. Honorable Discharge.

Apparently, there's a little known clause in the Army that if you inherit or win over a certain amount of money, you go home. We all suspected it but now we have proof: only the poor are fit to die for Haliburton's no bid contracts. The rich are too good to die for their country.

So all you GIs out there, go buy yourself a lotto ticket. It just might save your life. (And if you think the odds are against you just remember that they are better than W or anyone in Bushco coming to their senses).

The Most Fabulous Quiz Ever:

Which Famous Homosexual are you?
Brought to you by Rum and Monkey

(Thanks to Stradiotto for the link!)

The Party Ticket

I'm in holiday mode right now. Just got back from seeing Return of the King and tomorrow, I fly to San Antonio with the wife to see her family. So blogging for the next week will still be on the light side (though the laptop is going with me so there will be something to read, maybe a review of ROTK? We'll see...) Until then, from The Truth Laid Bear's New Webblog Showcase: Chris "Lefty" Brown's Corner: What's so funny about peace, love, and higher taxes?

The Invisible Manifesto

Nine hours alone in a car gives you plenty of time to think. And so I did. As I was driving from Maryland to Georgia, I had plenty of time to mull over several matters. I reviewed my last exam in my head, until that started to annoy me. I thought about all the good food my wife would be fixing over the winter break and what we would do when we got to San Antonio. I also, of course thought about politics.

In my slightly exhausted, slightly excited state I started to ponder the attitudes David Neiwert has been documenting over at Orcinus, about the increase in eliminationist rhetoric coming from the mouthpieces on the extreme right. What struck me about this sort of kill all the dirty liberal rhetoric was not its startling lack of imagination (unfortunately, this sort of hate speech has been around for a long time and like all things older than the hills, it's not all that original) but the personal edge that the Neocons give it. They of course backpeddle as soon as they're fingered on their libelous speech and claim it was only satire but this just underscores their ignorance. Does anyone really think Rush Limbaugh would know satire if it dropped a wooden rabbit on his head?

No, they make personal attacks and try and claim it's something else when it's pointed out to them that, hay, you know that sort of talk is dangerous because some dim bulb out there might not get your feverish brand of Benedict Arnold Satire. This got me to wondering, what are their gripes? Why does Rush Limbaugh hate me personally, even though he's never met me? I can only conclude that it's because I am what he is not and that scares him. I'm the Other. The thing he dare not look for when he combs over his hair in the mirror.

I'm a liberal. An outspoken intellectual. An Atheist. A freethinker. A nonviolent activist. Agent of change-for-the-sake-of-change. A freewheeling, fast moving force upon the face of the Earth and a hell of a good dancer.

I'm everything Rush, Shawn, Bill and their lie spinning Bible addled handlers Unelectable, Crisco Johnny and Defib Dick haven't got the guts to be: Free. I make up my own mind instead of having my ideas handed down to me from Neocon Thinktanks, Pundits and the Eye of Sauron himself, Karl Rove. I think not just outside the box but outside the frickin political solar system. I'm the lefty from outer space. My ray beams shoot sexy daydreams to all the kids, making them pant and lust for the sort of life that exists outside of corporatist groupthink, that America we somehow forgot three years ago, the one I want to go back to next year: the land of the free and home of the brave.

______
*Edited to remove funny symbols that where not intended to be there.

A List of People I Won't Vote For, Plus Howard Dean

SelectSmart.com has a great 2004 AMERICAN PRESIDENTIAL CANDIDATE SELECTOR. (thanks to Mustang Bobby over at Bark Bark Woof Woof for the link). I took the quiz and found out something interesting:

1.† Your ideal theoretical candidate. (100%)†
2.† Socialist Candidate (77%) Walt Brown
3.† Dean, Gov. Howard, VT - Democrat†(77%)†
4.† Clark, Retired General Wesley K., AR - Democrat (71%)†
5.† Sharpton, Reverend Al - Democrat†(71%)
6.† Kucinich, Rep. Dennis, OH - Democrat†(66%)
7.† Moseley-Braun, Former Senator Carol, IL - Democrat (61%)†
8.† Edwards, Senator John, NC - Democrat†(61%)
9.† Gephardt, Rep. Dick, MO - Democrat†(54%)
10.† Kerry, Senator John, MA - Democrat†(54%)†
11.† LaRouche, Lyndon H. Jr. - Democrat (45%)†
12.† Libertarian Candidate (41%)
13.† Lieberman, Senator Joe, CT - Democrat†(39%)†
14.† Bush, President George W. - Republican (13%)†
15.† Phillips, Howard - Constitution (4%)†

While I wouldn't actually vote for the socialist candidate, it's good to see that he's up there, as my own personal beliefs tend to lean more towards the Anarcho-socialist side of the political spectrum. I'm not surprised that Howard Dean is my number two man (number one in the actually viable candidate range) as the more I hear him speak, the more I look forward to voting for him next year. It's interesting that Lyndon LaRouche is more in line with my political ideals than Lieberman and that Clark is ahead of Kucinich (whom I'd like to see as president, or VP but realize that this is a fantasy on par with LOTR). I'm not surprised to see Sharpton up towards the top as he's a rather liberal candidate. I still wouldn't vote for him (and no, Wingers, not because he's black but because he's a reverand. However liberal a preacher he is, I won't vote a member of the clergy into the office of the President. This liberal does have something against organized religion and thinks there should be a permanant wall between Church and State and that preachers should be barred from holding the office of the President as a matter of conflict of interest. But that's a personal gripe and another post for another time). I would like to see Sharpton have a place in the Dem Administration of 2004 though, as he's shown himself to be a capable and strong candidate, one who can handle pressure graciously. That and he'd temper Dean's edge with his witty sense of humor.

The Man's Got My Vote!

Scooter, a fellow Eschatonian has posted his presidential platform.

I especially like the idea of putting Robert Anton Wilson on the 23 dollar bill.

Long Live the Procrastination Army!

Once again, I've been conscripted by the Procrastination Army. I should be studying for my exam but instead I'm playing with the right sidebar. I've made a few minor alterations, most notably the picture (which is not of me, just a place holder until I can get a proper self portrait scanned in). I've also moved the LC links to the Current Events section. While it's further down the page this is not to imply anything against my fellow LC members, whom you all should be reading, every day. The reason is simply organization. And we librarians are nothing without organization, now are we?

Update: Picture go away. ugly and not mine anyway. That's enough. Time for booze.

Saddam's Bottomless Hole

Iím sure by now everyone has heard the news: Saddam Hussein is in custody. For further details, in case you havenít been inundated yet, see, well pretty much anywhere but check out Dohiyi Mir and Bark Bark Woof Woof for some sparkling coverage.

Whatís surprising is that heís alive. Unlike his two sons, he wasnít gunned down by an entire regiment of marines with tanks and Blackhawk helicopters with rockets, but plucked from a spider hole in the basement of a house in a town outside of Tikrit.

Iím sure Bushco. Will rectify this little oversight very soon.

Now, I;m not saying theyíll have him rubbed out or anything so conspiratorial. No, heíll simply have an accident or succumb to health problems due to his six months of fugitive living. Heís an elderly man after all. Bones break easily, especially malnourished bones that have already been put under the stress of climbing in and out of a hole.

Perhaps Iím being cynical but Hussein knows too much about our countryís past shady dealings with Bush the Elder, Ramrod Rumsfeld and Saint Reagan. And if say, Hussein were to spill his guts about the nerve gas we sold him in the eighties or how we turned a blind eye while he used said nerve gas on the Kurds, it would be damaging to the Bush/ Cheney campaign to continue occupying the White House.

Now, personally I want to see Hussein stand trial. The Iraqi people deserve to see justice for the crimes this man has committed against them. And the American people deserve to hear what nefarious backdoor dealings our own Tinhorn Dictators have had their oil slick hands in. But Iím, not holding my breath for that one. Weíd have to have a functional media and legal system that isnít built for the benefit of the wealthy and powerful.

Maybe our British friends will be able to tell us what happens at the Hussein trial. If he lives that long.

(And if you think I'm being cynical, you should see what Ayn Clouter has to say on th ematter).