I Never Left You Hanging

Today, with some help from Sylvia, I installed a clothes drying rod. Zounds! I exceed myself. 

I used the following tools for this mad mission: 

• Drill
  
• Hammer
• Screwdriver
• Allan wrench
  
• Pliers 
• Level
• Pen
  

Note the extension bar with holes! I can hang action figures and starships from this simply by threading fishing line through the holes. Bonus! 

 

All Hail Canada Day

 

The Extra Special Guest Star

 Something occurred to me while watching the first and second seasons of Columbo. In multi-part film and television stories--basically all film and television stories save anthology series and stand-alone films without sequels--producers will often cast a stable of actors multiple times as different characters within those stories. 

In the James Bond films, for example, multiple actors have played characters such as M, Q, Moneypenny,  Bill Tanner, Felix Leiter, Blofeld--and even Bond himself. 

Roger Moore's Bond worked for two Ms, but neither he nor Moneypenny remarked upon their boss' change in appearance. Nor did Bernard Lee's M remark on Bond's change in appearance from On Her Majesty's Secret Service to Diamonds Are Forever to Live and Let Die. 

This is, of course, because characters are played by different actors in different productions all the time. We, the audience, don't remark on it, so why would the characters? 

Consider the inverted case: a guest actor appears several times during a television series, playing different roles. On Star Trek, for example, Diana Muldaur played Doctor Ann Mulhall in "Return to Tomorrow" and Doctor Miranda Jones in "Is There in Truth No Beauty?" Years later, she played Doctor Katherine Pulaski throughout the second season of Star Trek: The Next Generation. No character on either show confused Muldaur for any of the other characters she played within the same continuity. 

Of course. Same actress, different characters; in the shared universe of Star Trek, they're simply three distinct people who happen to look alike (to the eyes of the audience, at least). 

Forgive this rambling preamble; I'm aware that anyone who watches television or movies is well aware of the phenomena I've just described. 

But wouldn't it be fun if a creative team took advantage of our familiarity with the common practice of actors reappearing as different characters?  

Imagine, for example, Doctor Pulaski at the end of season two of Star Trek: The Next Generation. What if the good doctor had actually been Doctor Ann Mulhall the entire time, having faked her own death at some point between the 23rd and 24th centuries and given herself a new identity as Pulaski? Furthermore, what if, during the events of "Return to Tomorrow," Thalassa actually retained control of Mulhall's body and simply pretended to be her from that point forward? 

Imagine a two-part second season finale for TNG. In part one, Troi, working on a project with Pulaski more closely than usual, senses something off about the doctor. Furthermore, the doctor seems troubled by her conscience, and remarks on how old she feels--even though by 24th century standards she's in robust, middle-aged health. At the end of part one, during the course of a solo scientific mission in a shuttlecraft, she changes course and appears to be preparing to fly straight into a star. 

Part two opens as the TNG crew prevents Pulaski's suicide. Troi tries to counsel her, and naturally Riker, Picard, Data, and the others are concerned and reach out in different ways, trying to figure out what's gone wrong in Pulaski's life. 

The audience should be wondering too, because to us, she's Pulaski. By season's end, most viewers will have long forgotten that they remember Diana Muldaur from the original series. In fact, I'd wager 99% of viewers would be just as confused by Pulaski's actions and demeanor as the show's heroes. 

Finally, Pulaski lets slip a cryptic phrase, quoting some of her own words from "Return to Tomorrow:" "I told him oblivion together didn't frighten me. I lied." 

Then, a beat later, just before she successfully kills herself: "I'm not frightened anymore. Forgive me, Ann." 

For fans just familiar enough with Star Trek lore, the puzzle pieces should snap into place with what I hope would be dramatic impact. 

Our main characters are traumatized by all this--suicide being incredibly uncommon in the utopian world of the 24th century. In the episode's denoument, Troi and Data uncover Pulaski's past, reporting their findings to Captain Picard, who has to decide what to make of all this. The story of Mulhall/Thalassa/Pulaski is a triple-pronged tragedy of Shakespearean proportions, and a dark finale for the show's sophomore season. 

At the very least, I think this would have been better than "Shades of Grey." Plus, it would have given Doctor Beverly Crusher a powerful in-story reason to return--to be there for Picard and her other friends in the wake of such traumatic events. 

Sawing Logs with Logs

Asleep on the job, eh? I'll capture it in black and white. 

These are the words my grandmother or grandfather might have thought in 1940 when they snapped this photo. 
 

The Lost Return to Krypton

Despite having had Superman Returns in my movie library since, oh, probably 2007, only yesterday did I watch most of the set's special features, including the deleted scenes. 

The first and best of these scenes is Kal-El's return to Krypton, partially explaining the title; originally conceived as the film's opening, this scene captures both Kal-El's return to Krypton, and Clark Kent's return to Earth. 

In brief, we see Superman flying a crystal starship much like the one that brought him to Earth in Superman (Richard Donner, 1978). This version is much bigger, and it has a windshield shaped like the irregular pentagram that houses Superman's famous S symbol. (In the films and some other media, this symbol happens to be that of the house of El. In the comics, the Kents are typically responsible for the symbol and its shape, directly or indirectly.) The starship is beautifully designed, and it's inferred that the ship was grown by the Kryptonian crystals ubiquitous to the Donner/Reeve Superman movies.

(Why does Superman need a spaceship, when it's been shown that he can fly through space under his own power? Because only in star systems like Earth, with its yellow sun, does Superman have his powers. Without solar energy, Superman eventually becomes a regular human. Dimmer suns, like Krypton's, are insufficient--and in this version of the myth, that star is gone anyway.) 

Within the starship, Superman gazes through the windshield at the shattered remains of his homeworld. We see that most of the planet has been blown to smithereens, but a sizeable chunk of the sphere remains, perhaps an eighth of the planet's surface. Superman pilots the craft for a closer look at that surviving chunk, and breaks out in a cold sweat the closer he gets. He soon learns why he's feeling sick: the detonation of Krypton's star has transformed much of Krypton's mass into Kryptonite, which is deadly to Kryptonians. He sees the crest of his family carved into a rockface, all that remains of his heritage, before the Kryptonite radiation forces him to turn back. He sets a course back to Earth. 

I really wish the filmmakers had found a way to include this sequence in the film's final cut. While Superman's reasons for leaving Earth are explained through dialogue during the film, this graceful, quiet sequence--through sound effects, Brandon Routh's performance, visual effects, and editing--shows, rather than tells, us why Kal-El would make such a journey. Like many heroes of myth, he has answered the call to adventure, and so must answer the call home--in this case, a home not just forever changed, but entirely obliterated. Having seen with his own eyes that he really can't go home again, he turns back to his adopted home, wiser and sadder. 

A half-dozen or so short deleted scenes set on the Kent farm follow, giving Ma Kent and Clark more time on screen together and giving Clark more scenes that again show, rather than tell, his mixed feelings about his time away. He stumbles upon stacks of newspapers that his mother has gathered in his absence, newspapers that cry out for Superman's help and wonder why and where he's gone. Not only that, but his mother has started dating again. Had he not left, Clark probably would have been happy for his mother, but a major change like this on his return clearly comes as a shock. And of course, as we see in the film as released, it's far from the only way his relationships have changed. 

The rest of the deleted scenes include some extra business when Clark returns to the Daily Planet, some shenanigans from Lex Luthor and his cadre of villains, and a final coda at the Daily Planet. I can easily see while these scenes were cut, though I do like the Daily Planet coda; it has a nice final moment for Perry White and Lois Lane. 

Superman Returns is not a well-loved film, and I'm well aware of its faults. But I still love it, because it feels like the natural continuation of the journey we saw Christopher Reeve's Superman begin in the 1970s. Reeve's Superman is gentle, charming, and self-effacing; he's a fundamentally decent person. But Reeve also captured the character's tragic side; he's an orphan one and a half times over, he has a secret he can't share with anyone, and carries a fantastic burden of responsibility; both his biologial and foster parents tell him over and over that he is on Earth for a reason, and that reason is not to play football--in other words, his life should not and cannot be normal. 

Clark takes on this responsibility gladly and solemnly, and he takes joy in helping people. But in the world of the Reeve films, he has no true peers. (Technically Supergirl exists in his world thanks to the titular Helen Slater film of 1984, but the two characters never interact, and none of the Superman films mention her.) There's not even a Justice League to pal around with. No wonder being Clark is so important to him; it's his only window to something approximating a normal life. 

The Krypton and Smallville deleted scenes make the final film's sombre tone even more justified, and give weight to Superman's final scene in the film.Though he's lost Lois, he knows that Krypton's heritage will live on through their son. "Will we see you?" Lois asks. "Around?" 

"I'm always around," Superman says, with his beautiful, confident smile, but we can feel his sadness, his loss, and his renewed sense of purpose. John Ottman's gorgeous music is a beautifully wistful accompaniment to this moment, until its forced to transition to the Williams theme for an upbeat final look at this version of the Man of Steel as he flies off into the sunset to resume his never-ending battle for truth and justice. 

Through Lois Lane, this film asks us if the world needs Superman. Lois' answer--and the film's--is yes. But that answer comes with a price. For Superman, the price is never having a normal life or a romantic partner. 

For us, the audience, the price is the knowledge that Superman isn't real. It's a beautiful fantasy--the idea that there could be a person selfless and true, someone with enough power but enough decency to shape the world for the better. 

So as it turns out, the only way to have the better world a real-life Superman would enable is to take on his mantle ourselves, to the best of our limited ability. We're always around, too, and we can choose to use our time to make the world better or worse. That's all Superman does. He needed a break in Superman Returns, but when he came to grips with his grief and his losses, he returned to his best self. 

Maybe someday we can all do something similar. 

Sudden Insight

We clap and sing
Happy Birthday
And implore the birthday love
To blow out candles on a cake
They do
Snuffing out the dancing flames with wind and spittle
And the host serves the cake
And we eat
We eat cake, icing
And the birthday sneeze
Surely this practice can't be sanitary

First Landing

Jeff was kind enough to walk me through setting up my flight stick and throttle for Microsoft Flight Simulator tonight, and he also gave me a quick flying lesson. My first landing--an attempt at Leaf Rapids airport--was a near thing. I thought I was going to make it, but I came in a bit too high and too fast and ran out of runway, hitting some rocks and flipping my Cessna upside down. It was a survivable landing, but not elegant. 

My second try, captured above, was much more successful. True, I used up almost all of one of the runways at Edmonton International, but not only did I walk away from this landing, I was in a decent position to taxi to a parking spot. And flying with the sun in my eyes, no less! 

I really wish Dad could have seen both landings. He certainly would have laughed at the first! And I think he would have been pleased with the second. 
 

Sad Times for Leaf Rapids

Mom, Dad, and Sean, summer of 1976 or possibly 1977
at the Suwanee River campground near Leaf Rapids

I only lived in Leaf Rapids for seven years or so, but they were foundational years. In the 1970s, Leaf Rapids was a thriving community of great natural beauty, built on the Canadian Shield's bedrock and wound through several acres of thick evergreen forest. It was a place not just for humans, but birds, bears, wolves, and--alas--thick clouds of mosquitoes and sandflies. Fortunately, dragonflies the size of sparrows hunted the pests down to manageable levels. 

Once the Ruttan Mine closed down, though Leaf Rapids has been in steady decline. Population, services, amenities, even local government--all the essentials are in short supply, and as CBC reports, things are getting worse. 

Part of me realizes that with no base for an economy, it's probably pragmatic to move the remaining residents to Lynn Lake or Thompson. But neither of those places ever captured my imagination, nor, in my view, have the natural beauty and ineffable mystery of Leaf Rapids. It was a great place to be a kid. 

 I hope that Manitobans can find a way to save Leaf Rapids. 

Arnold's Path

A giant straddles the Terminator between light and shadow
Like Atlas, but actually Hercules
A Dutch treat from Austria, caught in a Matrix of illusion
A Julius Caesar, torn between worlds to rule
A Quaid/Hauser, lost in conflicting roles
A Kaminski/Brenner on both sides of the coldest war
A Danko, a Richards, a Slater, a Kimble, a Langston
A Trench-ant master, caught in a Fries frame
Doctor, President, Patron, Hood, and yet always a Self
The once and future King Conan Kalidor
Ahhhhnold, the T-800

Starter Words for the End of the World

XYLEM
GLYPH
MAMMA
IGLOO
OKAPI
FUZZY

My starter words
Betray me in the same way as
Our dreams for tomorrow
The fallen scoop of strawberry ice cream
Melting on the sidewalk at the fair
Sighs in resignation
While the child's tears
Evaporate on her sun-roasted cheeks

(Bad poem by me, bad "art" by Gemini.) 

Popcorn Sequence

Back in 2008, I tried to capture a photo of popcorn bouncing off my face. The effort failed. 
 

Never Get Too Comfortable

For a few days after the 2008 election, my corner office was equipped with the fancy furniture MLAs get. Naturally, it was soon replaced with standard worker drone furniture: 

Armpit Photo

Sean and Sylvia on February 28, 2009. 
 

Twin Peaks Shadow Box

 Tonight I filled a shadow box with a few of the Twin Peaks items I've collected over the years. 

I Feel Used, or Impersonal Trainer

While I've always suspected it was so, last night I probed Gemini a bit to see if any of my writing has been used to train LLMs. The last paragraph reveals the sordid details. Further investigation reveals everything I wrote for Lois Hole has been used as training data, too. 

If we lived in a more equitable world, I'd be fine with this, but I can't help but feel like under capitalism the tech bros owe the writers and artists of the world some compensation. Especially if they want us to keep generating new ideas . . . 
 

Eyes off the Prize

I'm pretty sure that's my cousin Darwin scarfing down some treats while I gaze seriously into the distance. I wonder what thoughts were running through my tiny brain at the time. Probably "I want a pastry, but I don't want people to know that, so I'll just stare the other way." 

I'm pretty sure this happened in Manitoba, but it's hard to be sure. One wonder's why there's a painting on the bed. Oh, there's wrapping paper in the background--it might have been someone's birthday. Not Christmas, I don't think, because associated photos appear to be set during summer. 

I still had blonde hair. Not for much longer, I don't think...
 

Uncle Gordon and Me

Among other Woods/Etsell losses in 2026, our Uncle Gordon Newton passed away earlier this year, and I just realized I haven't written anything about it until now. 

Here's Uncle Gordon with me in Leaf Rapids in the mid-1970s; this visit might have been the first time I met him and possibly Aunt Margaret, though I'm not sure if she came on this trip; she's not in any of the photos I have from this set. We doubtless spent some time fishing and camping, since that was the number one leisure activity in Leaf Rapids. 

Here he is with Mom and Dad, likely on the same day--all of them younger then than I am now. Time laughs at us, doesn't it? 

I was very fond of Uncle Gordon. He was superintendent of schools in Winnipeg for quite some time; he was very smart, erudite, and informed, and he had a voice I thought was quite captivating. Unfortunately, I probably only interacted with him in person perhaps a dozen or so times in my life, since for most of our time on Earth he lived in Manitoba and we lived in Alberta. Nonetheless, I'm glad that I was able to spend time with Uncle Gordon and Aunt Margaret; they were both very cool people. 

Rest in peace, Uncle Gordon. I hope my cousins Kathy, Barbara, and David are coping with their father's loss. 

Swooped Away

 

Don't Hide Dynamite in the Dryer

Years ago, I remember asking Dad if a clothes dryer would be a good place to store dynamite. I don't remember how Dad answered, but he was rather nonplussed and said something to the effect of "As long as you don't store it in our dryer." Or maybe it was "You shouldn't have dynamite," as if that was the most obvious statement in the world, which, yes, fair. 

Anyway, I always thought it would be funny if someone filled their dryer with sticks of dynamite just because they thought the police or CSIS or whoever wouldn't look there. 


 

Giant Killer Robots: Heavy Hitters

Earlier tonight, Jeff, Mike, Stephen and I engaged in a kind of cyberpunk gladiatorial combat by way of the board game GKR: Heavy Hitters. The arena: the ruins of a nuked city. The combatants: four pilots driving giant killer robots. This was only my second time playing the game, but it's as fun as I remember; both strategy and tactics are crucial, but luck, of course, plays a role too. I made a couple of dumb mistakes, but enjoyed an exciting go-for-broke last stand sort of maneuver that let me go out with some semblance of pride, if not a victory. (Indeed, I was eliminated.) Jeff eked out a one-point win over Stephen, but it was close all around. A fun night. 

 

Give Yourself a Present

A few years ago, Sean gave me this Twin Peaks print for Christmas or my birthday; I don't remember which. It was created by an Albertan artist, and it captures an iconic moment from Twin Peaks, one of my very favourite works of art. Last month, I finally took it in to have it framed. I picked it up yesterday and hung it on my wall today, and I think it looks gorgeous. 
 

Video: Taco Thursday Intruder

After dropping off one of Sean's long-delayed birthday gifts, I stopped at Taco Time to pick up dinner. A seagull boldly--one might even say insouciantly--landed on my hood, silently begging for treats. I say thee nay! 

Why do we have seagulls in a landlocked province? 

Burntwood River at the Golden Hour

 

One for Joy, One for Desire, One for Despair

More and more often these days, I'm stricken by dark melancholy. Fortunately, music helps, and for this particular shade of darkness, I play Keane's "Higher than the Sun." The lyrics and melody fan the dying embers of my optimism. 

There's a song to ease your fear; a song to take you far from here; one for joy, one for desire, one for despair

My Escape from New York blu-ray included some themed pins, so I used them to create a safe place for my metal Criterion Channel charter subscriber card. I figure it's appropriate, since the film has been on the channel.