About a dozen years ago, my friend Pete asked me to guess what kind of new vehicle he'd just purchased. Pete was obviously very proud of his new acquisition, and I thought hard about what he might have bought. I turned the possibilities over and over in my head, until a flash of insight struck:
"You bought a minivan!" I shouted.
"I didn't buy a minivan," Pete snarled, looking much like he does in the photo above. Actually, he'd purchased a pretty fancy car, just like the one Pierce Brosnan drove in Goldeneye. I think Pete was a little offended by my guess, especially since I'd known him long enough to realize that a minivan was really about the least likely thing he might have bought.
And yet, in that moment, I knew with complete certainty that Pete's new car was a minivan.
I was, of course, absolutely wrong.
Insight and intuition are funny things. Some people depend on them completely. I've used intuition myself. But experiences like this one reinforce my belief that reason, backed up by solid data, is a surer path to knowledge and truth. By no means am I diminishing the power of a sudden revelation - but it's always good to check the facts.
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Monday, February 08, 2010
Pete Versus the Minivan
Labels:
Film,
James Bond,
Pete,
Philosophy,
popular culture,
The Earliad
Dramatization
Early this morning I watched a commercial. It featured the now-common "Dramatization" subtitle, for which I am grateful, for the ad also featured a car crashing onto the front lawn of a suburban home, a bag of groceries hopping out of the vehicle and walking into the kitchen by itself, a happy housewife NOT shrieking in terror as she witnessed same, and a talking glove stating that it will prepare dinner.
Thanks, makers of Hamburger Helper, for making sure that I understood this commercial was merely a "Dramatization" and not a documentary.
Thanks, makers of Hamburger Helper, for making sure that I understood this commercial was merely a "Dramatization" and not a documentary.
Thursday, February 04, 2010
Spider-Mite
Spider mite, spider mite
The unfortunate spider mite
Eats my plants, makes them die
Sends their souls to the sky
Watch out! Here comes the spider mite
Do they breed? Listen bub
They’ve got randiness in their blood
Do they swing from a thread?
Take a look, your plant’s dead
Hey there! Here comes the spider mite
In the heat of day
They will breed millions more
You can’t keep them out
Even if you shut the door
Spider mite, spider mite
Unfriendly ravenous spider mite
Spins a web, looks real gross
On the plants in my house
To him, the garden is one big banquet
Where ever plants are hung up
You’ll find the spider mite!
The unfortunate spider mite
Eats my plants, makes them die
Sends their souls to the sky
Watch out! Here comes the spider mite
Do they breed? Listen bub
They’ve got randiness in their blood
Do they swing from a thread?
Take a look, your plant’s dead
Hey there! Here comes the spider mite
In the heat of day
They will breed millions more
You can’t keep them out
Even if you shut the door
Spider mite, spider mite
Unfriendly ravenous spider mite
Spins a web, looks real gross
On the plants in my house
To him, the garden is one big banquet
Where ever plants are hung up
You’ll find the spider mite!
Retro Review: American Ninja
I wrote this review way back in the spring of 1991, again on Freedom BBS.
Last night I had the pleasure of viewing the Canon Group's kung-fu fistfest, American Ninja, starring the unequalled Micheal Dudikoff in the title role.
American Ninja is the touching tale of a lonely man--known only as "Joe"--who just happens to have great prowess in the mystic arts of the Ninja. Joe knows not where his skills came from--his earliest memory is of a great explosion at a mine he was caught in as a youth. Joe's troubled childhood is filled with strife and lonliness; Joe moves from reform school to reform school, until finally he is forced to join the US Army. Joe is posted on a war-torn Pacific island, where he is looked upon by his fellow Marines with disdain. "We like teamwork in this outfit, fella."
Trouble begins when the Rebels begin hijacking US arms shipments to use for their own nefarious purposes, and it is here that the movie heats up. A Rebel attack is stopped as Joe, using his incredible martial arts, beats the tar out of no less than a dozen rebel fiends. In one memorable scene, Joe rolls to a toolbox under a hail of rebel machinegun fire. Thinking quickly, he grabs a screwdriver and throws it, daggerlike, into the shoulder of one gunman. Next, Joe wields a tire iron, flinging it square into a hapless rebel's mouth. But Joe's efforts are in vain--for, streaming out of the jungle, comes a horde of black-garbed Ninjas!
The ninjas make short work of Joe's marine buddies, who fall under a hail of arrows, throwing stars, and swords. The Ninjas even go so far as to threaten the beautiful Patricia, US Army Colonel Wild Bill Hickok's only daughter.
Fortunately, Joe is there to defend her, deflecting arrows with the handle of a conveniently nearby shovel. However, Joe realizes he is outnumbered, so he and Patricia flee into the jungle and jump into a river to hide. This maneuver not only saves our stalwart couple from certain doom, but it also allows the viewer some choice glimpses of Patricia's anatomy, revealed by her now-soaked white blouse.
The action just keeps on coming as Joe fights Ninjas, traitorous Army officers, European gunrunners, and even his best friend. Joe's greatest fight, however, is for the understanding and acceptance of his peers. The climactic ending is truly touching--Patricia, kidnapped by the evil Ninja clan, is held captive in the evil Ninja training school. At first, Joe believes he will have to rescue her alone--but wait!! Out of the jungle mists comes Joe 's adoptive father, a wizened old Japanese soldier (one of the ones trapped on an island in the Pacific for twenty years after WWII ended and who still thought the war was on). Joe's pop returns to join him in the rescue of Patricia, but is, tragically, killed in the act of saving Joe from the evil Head Ninja, the Black Star Ninja. Joe, sobbing, attacks the Ninja horde, but the effort is impossible--he is wildly outnumbered. But then, over the hills--the US Army! Trumpets blaring and guns blazing, the 'good 'ol boys' charge into the training camp to lend Joe a hand, armed with APCs, jeeps, heavy machine guns, and grenades. The unarmed evil ninjas fall like chaff before the Marines' awesome assault. But the evil French arms dealer is running off with Patricia! Thank Goodness that Joe manages to grab the underside of the escape helicopter as it makes its lunge for freedom. Joe manages to grab Patricia just in time, leaping from the chopper just as Joe's best friend Jackson blows it up with a Made in the USA rocket launcher.
With the last bad guy blown to kingdome come, Patricia, Jackson, and Joe can relax...at least until American Ninja 2.
Rating: 9 out of 10 for pure bad movie enjoyment.
Last night I had the pleasure of viewing the Canon Group's kung-fu fistfest, American Ninja, starring the unequalled Micheal Dudikoff in the title role.
American Ninja is the touching tale of a lonely man--known only as "Joe"--who just happens to have great prowess in the mystic arts of the Ninja. Joe knows not where his skills came from--his earliest memory is of a great explosion at a mine he was caught in as a youth. Joe's troubled childhood is filled with strife and lonliness; Joe moves from reform school to reform school, until finally he is forced to join the US Army. Joe is posted on a war-torn Pacific island, where he is looked upon by his fellow Marines with disdain. "We like teamwork in this outfit, fella."
Trouble begins when the Rebels begin hijacking US arms shipments to use for their own nefarious purposes, and it is here that the movie heats up. A Rebel attack is stopped as Joe, using his incredible martial arts, beats the tar out of no less than a dozen rebel fiends. In one memorable scene, Joe rolls to a toolbox under a hail of rebel machinegun fire. Thinking quickly, he grabs a screwdriver and throws it, daggerlike, into the shoulder of one gunman. Next, Joe wields a tire iron, flinging it square into a hapless rebel's mouth. But Joe's efforts are in vain--for, streaming out of the jungle, comes a horde of black-garbed Ninjas!
The ninjas make short work of Joe's marine buddies, who fall under a hail of arrows, throwing stars, and swords. The Ninjas even go so far as to threaten the beautiful Patricia, US Army Colonel Wild Bill Hickok's only daughter.
Fortunately, Joe is there to defend her, deflecting arrows with the handle of a conveniently nearby shovel. However, Joe realizes he is outnumbered, so he and Patricia flee into the jungle and jump into a river to hide. This maneuver not only saves our stalwart couple from certain doom, but it also allows the viewer some choice glimpses of Patricia's anatomy, revealed by her now-soaked white blouse.
The action just keeps on coming as Joe fights Ninjas, traitorous Army officers, European gunrunners, and even his best friend. Joe's greatest fight, however, is for the understanding and acceptance of his peers. The climactic ending is truly touching--Patricia, kidnapped by the evil Ninja clan, is held captive in the evil Ninja training school. At first, Joe believes he will have to rescue her alone--but wait!! Out of the jungle mists comes Joe 's adoptive father, a wizened old Japanese soldier (one of the ones trapped on an island in the Pacific for twenty years after WWII ended and who still thought the war was on). Joe's pop returns to join him in the rescue of Patricia, but is, tragically, killed in the act of saving Joe from the evil Head Ninja, the Black Star Ninja. Joe, sobbing, attacks the Ninja horde, but the effort is impossible--he is wildly outnumbered. But then, over the hills--the US Army! Trumpets blaring and guns blazing, the 'good 'ol boys' charge into the training camp to lend Joe a hand, armed with APCs, jeeps, heavy machine guns, and grenades. The unarmed evil ninjas fall like chaff before the Marines' awesome assault. But the evil French arms dealer is running off with Patricia! Thank Goodness that Joe manages to grab the underside of the escape helicopter as it makes its lunge for freedom. Joe manages to grab Patricia just in time, leaping from the chopper just as Joe's best friend Jackson blows it up with a Made in the USA rocket launcher.
With the last bad guy blown to kingdome come, Patricia, Jackson, and Joe can relax...at least until American Ninja 2.
Rating: 9 out of 10 for pure bad movie enjoyment.
Ninja photo by Roryv
Labels:
Film,
Freedom BBS,
Ninjas,
popular culture,
Reviews
The 2 to 6 Club
Back when my friend Ron Briscoe was running Edmonton's old Freedom BBS, he set up a room called the 2 to 6 Club, a place for insomniacs to post whatever profound insights they might glean during the witching hours. Here's something I wrote in that room almost 19 years ago to the day. Unlike most of what I wrote as an angst-ridden twentysomething, I don't hate this.
I have been one acquainted with the night.
I have seen the wrongs I've failed to set aright.
I have ignored the beggar's pathetic plight
I have pushed the lonely problems from my sight
I too have stood on a lonely highway at night, my car and I--engine
ticking softly--
Warm summer night, completely alone but for the stars and the trees and the
plain over that hill--
Take a walk to the top of that hill and just look and just listen and just
smell and feel and taste and be that night. You become night, living night,
banished with the day but not defeated. And the wind blowing through your
hair is a part of you and the grass under your sneakers is a part of you and
the croaking of the frog is a part of you and the baleful gaze of that stern
moon is a part of you.
It is all just you and it is all more than you can ever imagine, more than
you are contained inside you, worn on you like an overcoat.
Melodrama made real. And none of the cliches matter...because they are
true.
Walk a little further, into the farmer's field. Stalks of grain waving back
and forth like some great living thing, one being. A little scary, but it
doesn't matter--you are the night, a part of this, and you cannot be hurt.
You can be lonely, but you cannot be hurt.
Look up. That winking star overhead--a satellite, benignly swooping by,
taking pictures of you, a reminder of the fellow men who you don't need
waiting for you with the dawn. And there, a 747, reminding you again that
there is no real escape, not now.
Soon. But not just at this moment.
You walk back to the car, open the driver's side door. Car welcomes you with
harsh interior light glare and harsher seat belt buzzer. You get inside
quickly to avoid disturbing the beautiful darkness any further.
And you sit there for a little while on the shoulder before you finally turn
the ignition key, activating the radio, the lights, the engine. And then you
pull onto the road and just drive for a while
just________________________________drive_____________________
Until Neon City looms large once more and the night whithers before human
magic and you surrender too...giving in to another twelve hour wait before the
wonder sets in again.
Some of the folks I hung around with during the heyday of the 2 to 6 Club. Ron and I are at the far right; Ron's seated on the floor.
I have been one acquainted with the night.
I have seen the wrongs I've failed to set aright.
I have ignored the beggar's pathetic plight
I have pushed the lonely problems from my sight
I too have stood on a lonely highway at night, my car and I--engine
ticking softly--
Warm summer night, completely alone but for the stars and the trees and the
plain over that hill--
Take a walk to the top of that hill and just look and just listen and just
smell and feel and taste and be that night. You become night, living night,
banished with the day but not defeated. And the wind blowing through your
hair is a part of you and the grass under your sneakers is a part of you and
the croaking of the frog is a part of you and the baleful gaze of that stern
moon is a part of you.
It is all just you and it is all more than you can ever imagine, more than
you are contained inside you, worn on you like an overcoat.
Melodrama made real. And none of the cliches matter...because they are
true.
Walk a little further, into the farmer's field. Stalks of grain waving back
and forth like some great living thing, one being. A little scary, but it
doesn't matter--you are the night, a part of this, and you cannot be hurt.
You can be lonely, but you cannot be hurt.
Look up. That winking star overhead--a satellite, benignly swooping by,
taking pictures of you, a reminder of the fellow men who you don't need
waiting for you with the dawn. And there, a 747, reminding you again that
there is no real escape, not now.
Soon. But not just at this moment.
You walk back to the car, open the driver's side door. Car welcomes you with
harsh interior light glare and harsher seat belt buzzer. You get inside
quickly to avoid disturbing the beautiful darkness any further.
And you sit there for a little while on the shoulder before you finally turn
the ignition key, activating the radio, the lights, the engine. And then you
pull onto the road and just drive for a while
just________________________________drive_____________________
Until Neon City looms large once more and the night whithers before human
magic and you surrender too...giving in to another twelve hour wait before the
wonder sets in again.
Some of the folks I hung around with during the heyday of the 2 to 6 Club. Ron and I are at the far right; Ron's seated on the floor.
Thursday, January 28, 2010
I Has Made Many Arts
Jeff Shyluk's art blog has inspired me to look through my archives to uncover some of my own "art." Those scare quotes are well chosen, as you'll see.
Back when I was making short films for fun, I designed these logos for my imaginary production company, Paranoid Productions. The first one is an incredibly lazy knockoff of the Paramount logo, probably actionable. I think my font choice was inspired, though. I like the second one much more, but it's important to note that it's based on a design by the aforementioned Jeff Shyluk:
Back when I was making short films for fun, I designed these logos for my imaginary production company, Paranoid Productions. The first one is an incredibly lazy knockoff of the Paramount logo, probably actionable. I think my font choice was inspired, though. I like the second one much more, but it's important to note that it's based on a design by the aforementioned Jeff Shyluk:
As you can see, all I did was take Jeff's way cool, surreal design and make it two-dimensional. That was my intent, anyway. I hope Jeff doesn't mind my reproduction of his art here!
Back when I was sending out my satirical newsletter, Blazing Earl News, to my friends, I often abused Photoshop, as seen here. Jeff himself guest-stars!
This masterpiece is from another issue of Blazing Earl News. That's supposed to be Redjac departing Admiral Kirk's body.
These Photoshop creations are of more recent vintage - I think I created them five or six years ago. I know I can never make this movie myself, but I thought the title was amusing enough to hint at a possible imaginary film.
Back in grade school, I really enjoyed art class, but my efforts, as you might guess, were always somewhat disappointing. But even in the absence of talent, I still have fun dabbling in pursuits outside my normal comfort zone.
Wednesday, January 27, 2010
Saving 24
I used to be a big fan of 24. The first season's real-time format was innovative and riveting, and the second raised the stakes with a terrifying nuclear threat.
But the underlying premise of the show can really only support one or two seasons. In the context of fiction, it's perfectly believeable that counterterrorist agent Jack Bauer could have one really long day, twenty-four hours of mayhem and suspense, culminating in great personal sacrifice. A second such day was pushing it, but now we're up Jack Bauer's eighth "very bad day" and the audience's suspension bridge of disbelief collapsed into kindling long ago.
These days, I watch 24 as a comedy rather than a drama. What atrocity will Jack commit next in the name of his country's security? Which CTU agent or analyst is the mole this season? Which recurring character will be killed off? How will the producers create a threat greater than the one Jack faced last season? What personal trauma will Jack have to overcome this time? How snarky can Chloe get? How many times will Jack scream "DO IT NOW...or MILLIONS OF PEOPLE WILL DIE!"?
Sadly, 24 has become predictable, perhaps the greatest danger to any show that hopes to generate suspense. That's why the producers should take a differerent approach next season.
I propose that Jack's next "very bad day" should be the sort of bad day any civil servant might have...
FADE IN
The following takes place between the hours of 6:00 am and 7:00 am.
Events occur in real time.
JACK BAUER wakes up to the sound of a bleating alarm clock. He slams his hand down. Split-screen views show supporting characters like CHLOE O'BRIAN and KIM BAUER and RENEE WALKER doing exactly the same thing.
JACK, CHLOE, KIM and RENEE perform their morning toilet; they shower, brush their teeth, etc. in real time. Meanwhile, as the digital clock ticks away, we cut to various stores and institutions, including a tailor shop, a school, a deli, etc., all closed because, well, it's 6 am.
You can see where this is going. Nothing at all dramatic will happen during the day, save for the ordinary crises that beset us all. Jack will need a pair of slacks from the tailor, but they won't be finished, giving Jack the opportunity to bark, "If these slacks aren't hemmed in fifteen minutes, I won't be able to pick up Renee in time for the opera! DO IT NOW!"
Of course the last seven or eight episodes probably won't get very good ratings, since the characters will all be sleeping. But think of the incredibly low production costs..!
But the underlying premise of the show can really only support one or two seasons. In the context of fiction, it's perfectly believeable that counterterrorist agent Jack Bauer could have one really long day, twenty-four hours of mayhem and suspense, culminating in great personal sacrifice. A second such day was pushing it, but now we're up Jack Bauer's eighth "very bad day" and the audience's suspension bridge of disbelief collapsed into kindling long ago.
These days, I watch 24 as a comedy rather than a drama. What atrocity will Jack commit next in the name of his country's security? Which CTU agent or analyst is the mole this season? Which recurring character will be killed off? How will the producers create a threat greater than the one Jack faced last season? What personal trauma will Jack have to overcome this time? How snarky can Chloe get? How many times will Jack scream "DO IT NOW...or MILLIONS OF PEOPLE WILL DIE!"?
Sadly, 24 has become predictable, perhaps the greatest danger to any show that hopes to generate suspense. That's why the producers should take a differerent approach next season.
I propose that Jack's next "very bad day" should be the sort of bad day any civil servant might have...
FADE IN
The following takes place between the hours of 6:00 am and 7:00 am.
Events occur in real time.
JACK BAUER wakes up to the sound of a bleating alarm clock. He slams his hand down. Split-screen views show supporting characters like CHLOE O'BRIAN and KIM BAUER and RENEE WALKER doing exactly the same thing.
JACK, CHLOE, KIM and RENEE perform their morning toilet; they shower, brush their teeth, etc. in real time. Meanwhile, as the digital clock ticks away, we cut to various stores and institutions, including a tailor shop, a school, a deli, etc., all closed because, well, it's 6 am.
You can see where this is going. Nothing at all dramatic will happen during the day, save for the ordinary crises that beset us all. Jack will need a pair of slacks from the tailor, but they won't be finished, giving Jack the opportunity to bark, "If these slacks aren't hemmed in fifteen minutes, I won't be able to pick up Renee in time for the opera! DO IT NOW!"
Of course the last seven or eight episodes probably won't get very good ratings, since the characters will all be sleeping. But think of the incredibly low production costs..!
Monday, January 25, 2010
Art Irritating Life
Jeff Shyluk has been posting about once a day since he started his entertaining visual blog, and I had to laugh when I came across this:
http://shyluk.blogspot.com/2010/01/14-shocking-reviews.html
As I've already said to Jeff, I find it strange that whenever artists depict me in cartoon form, I'm wearing some kind of Star Trek outfit. I have no idea why...
http://shyluk.blogspot.com/2010/01/14-shocking-reviews.html
As I've already said to Jeff, I find it strange that whenever artists depict me in cartoon form, I'm wearing some kind of Star Trek outfit. I have no idea why...
Wednesday, January 06, 2010
Green Lantern, Reactionary
After reading a few of these 1960s Green Lantern stories, I'm beginning to understand Denny O'Neill's 1970s take on the character, when he paired Green Lantern up with Green Arrow, painting the Lantern a stiff law-and-order, tough-on-crime Republican type and Green Arrow as the streetwise bleeding-heart liberal. When I first read those stories as a child, I thought O'Neill was being a little tough on the Lantern, who usually looked cold-hearted and inflexible compared to the more compassionate Green Arrow. But now I see there was some basis in the text for O'Neill's portrayal of the character, and in fact Green Lantern grew a little more liberal over time, his partner's views and their more morally complex adventures rubbing off.
Still, look how ticked off GL looks in this panel. Lousy constitution, protecting criminals..!
Still, look how ticked off GL looks in this panel. Lousy constitution, protecting criminals..!
Labels:
comics,
Green Lantern,
Human rights,
popular culture
Tuesday, January 05, 2010
Taking Uncivil Liberties
In Green Lantern #49 (December 1966), the titular hero thinks that Henry Peters, a special effects technician for The Dazzler, a popular TV show, may be committing crimes while dressed as that show's supervillainous title character. So he decides to scan Henry's mind (holy invasion of privacy, Batman!) but discovers that Peters' mind is shielded somehow. So Green Lantern decides to chase the Peters, understandably spooking him. If a guy in spandex started chasing me with a glowing green hand, I'd run too.
The poor guy barks his shin on a concrete block some idiot left in the middle of the sidewalk and then smacks face-first into a birdbath or water fountain with what appears to be enough force to break his jaw and smash a few teeth.
"Too bad," is Green Lantern's compassionate response. His "idea" is to scan the guy's brain again while he's unconscious, figuring that his mental defences might not work while he's out.
It works, much to the outrage of the American Civil Liberties Association, no doubt. Green Lantern quickly learns that the man has mental powers because he's from another planet, a representative of an advanced and peaceful culture. The interstellar ambassador, it turns out, is quite taken with the aliean Earth concept of drama and decided that he wanted to be in show biz. He got a job in the industry, doing technical work for the sheer love of it. His unconscious mind reveals that he was about to seek out Green Lantern to warn him about The Dazzler's next crime, and to share his identity.
But Peters starts to wake up before Green Lantern's scans can reveal who the real bad guy is. So the stalwart hero, even though he now knows for certain that this man is innocent, even though he now knows that Peters wants to share his information willingly, reacts thusly:
Yes, that's right - he punches the guy in the jaw to keep him unconscious, just so he can keep scanning his brain. Nor does he ever offer an apology, or even think to himself that maybe, just maybe, he crossed an ethical line here.
Labels:
comics,
Green Lantern,
popular culture,
senseless violence
Friday, January 01, 2010
Computer Powers Down When Playing Games - Any Advice?
About a week ago I encountered a very frustrating computer problem. When I try to play Fallout 3, the computer would shut down after a few minutes. This wasn't just a crash to desktop, freeze, or blue screen of death - the computer powered off suddenly. I thought perhaps I was having a heat problem, so I bought some canned air and blew all the dust out of the casing. That seemed to work for a while, but now I'm encountering the same problem when playing Left 4 Dead 2. The computer is less than a year old, and pretty high end - I shouldn't be having these problems.
All other applications work fine.
Google-fu pointed me to the overheating possibility, but now that the dust is gone and I've verified that the fan is working, I'm not sure what to do. Anyone have any ideas?
All other applications work fine.
Google-fu pointed me to the overheating possibility, but now that the dust is gone and I've verified that the fan is working, I'm not sure what to do. Anyone have any ideas?
Jeff Speaks!
I've long been grateful to my old friend Jeff Shyluk for providing the most consistently enjoyable and insightful commentary here on my blog. Now I'm very excited to announce that Jeff is finally leaping into the world of blogging himself, against all expectations, including his own.
Jeff's a great writer and artist, and I look forward to seeing what mad works of genius he unleashes into the blogosphere.
You can find Jeff's blog here: http://shyluk.blogspot.com/
Jeff's a great writer and artist, and I look forward to seeing what mad works of genius he unleashes into the blogosphere.
You can find Jeff's blog here: http://shyluk.blogspot.com/
Happy New Year!
2010 may not have quite the scientifictional ring as 2001 did, but thanks to Arthur C. Clarke it does possess some small degree of mythic power. While we're still a long ways away from sending people to Jupiter, I do have high hopes that new technology will benefit humanity in the teens. In the meantime, I'm still waiting for: - Flying cars
- Jetpacks
- Artificial Intelligence
- Genetic Engineering
- Nanotechnology
- Giant 1950s-style rockets (i.e., smooth and silvery, with fins) blasting to other worlds
- Ray guns (set to stun, of course)
- Cooler robots
- First contact with extraterrestrial life
I guess news of water on the moon and the regular discovery of cool new exoplanets will tide me over for a while. Enjoy what's sure to be another scientifictional decade, everyone.
Thursday, December 31, 2009
That's It for the Aughts
I'm just taking a quick break from celebrating New Year's Eve with Sylvia to take a look back on the '00s, the oh-ohs or the aughts. A lot has happened in the past ten years - the world has been through a lot, tempering some of the optimism of the 90s. But on a personal level, it's been a pretty good decade, so tonight I'm just going to take a moment to reflect on the events that have affected me most since the new millennium began, in no particular order.
And of course I met and married Sylvia Boucher, certainly my favourite event of the decade.
I've written speeches for two Lieutenants-Governor and two Leaders of the Official Opposition.
I left Hole's and started work at the Official Oppositon.
I returned to Leaf Rapids - twice.
I've seen family and friends enter new relationships and end them; I've seen the children of those friends come into the world or grow steadily older. I've made new friends, lost touch with old friends, reconnected with others.
I ran for public office against a sitting Premier - and lost handily, but learned much.
I've travelled to Los Angeles, Las Vegas, Honolulu and Victoria.
And of course I met and married Sylvia Boucher, certainly my favourite event of the decade.
The aughts may not have been great years for the world, with disasters both natural and manmade causing untold misery. But I'm grateful that the first decade of the 21st century has been very generous to me, and I hope it's been an equally good ten years for you and yours.
See you in 2010.
Labels:
Allan,
Hole's,
Holidays,
Jeff and Susan,
Leaf Rapids,
Lois Hole,
Sean,
Steven N.,
Sylvia,
The Earliad
30 Years Later - Star Trek: The Motion Picture
Site of the former Gaiety Theatre, Leduc, Alberta - December 25, 2009
Thirty years ago this month, I saw Star Trek: The Motion Picture for the first time. I attended a screening at Leduc's original Gaiety Theatre, plunking myself down in what was then my favourite seat - right hand column, front row, leftmost seat.
At the age of ten, I was already a huge fan of Star Trek, having watched scores of repeats on CBC in Leaf Rapids. With my friends John and Glen and Kelly and a set of the original landing party model kits (faithfully recreating the phaser, tricorder and communicator), we sought out strange new worlds in the deep and mysterious woods of that northern community - already quite a strange world in and of itself.
My family moved to Leduc, Alberta, just a few months before Star Trek leaped from the TV screen to the movie screen, and I was still missing Manitoba. But the prospect of a new Star Trek movie made the move a lot easier to bear, so I was pretty excited as I sat in the Gaiety and waited for the curtain to unfurl.
Of course, these days Star Trek: The Motion Picture is widely regarded as a creative failure, among the worst, if not the worst, of the Star Trek films. It's been derided as Star Trek: The Slow Motion Picture and Star Trek: The Motionless Picture. Critics attack the costumes, the lack of attention paid to much-loved secondary characters, and most of all, the languid pacing.
Much of the criticism is fair. But I contend that the first Star Trek film is among the best of the series, not the worst. Furthermore, this movie is the only true work of science fiction in the entire series.
The film has many strengths. Jerry Goldsmith's Oscar-nominated score truly soars, and indeed became iconic. (Interestingly, Star Trek: The Motion Picture is one of the last films to open with an overture.) Douglas Trumbull's special effects created a completely believable 23rd century civilization and an awesome - in the true sense of the word - threat from outer space. The models and sets were first rate; for the first and last time, the Enterprise felt like a real starship with a crew of hundreds and working parts that made sense within the world of the film. And Robert Wise's direction is steady and sure, especially considering that the script was still being revised even as he was shooting the film.
Even the film's pace is, I believe, a strength - if you have the patience. There are long stretches in the film that pass without dialogue, only music, including Kirk and Scotty's minutes-long tour of the refitted Enterprise, a scene that virtually no director or editor would allow today.
I think that's a shame. That tour of the Enterprise, intercutting between the ship itself and Kirk's reaction to its new appearance, say much about the world of the film and the protagonist's personal journey. The orbiting office complex, the tiny shuttlecraft and spacesuited astronauts whizzing by - these elements tease our imagination, making us wonder what kind of society humanity has built that could create such casual wonders. And Kirk's regrets and longing are written all over his face, revealing a fragile emotional state that sets up and explains some of his bad behaviour in the film.
The film also slows down when the Enterprise intercepts the film's antagonist, the mysterious, all-powerful Vejur, a gigantic cosmic cloud of energy that contains a vast machine intelligence. Again, critics have said that this sequence goes on far too long, but I believe that patience is rewarded if one actually thinks about what one is seeing: machinery that is eons old, of such complexity and scale that it is literally beyond our ability to comprehend. Frankly, I think that's pretty amazing stuff.
And that is why this film is the only real science fiction film of the series, for Vejur's story raises the apocalyptic possibilities of human technology outgrowing its creators. When Kirk, Spock, McCoy and Decker reveal Vejur's secret, they are confronted with the sheer scale of the universe and all the infinite majesty contained within it. And at the film's climax, they help the Vejur entity grow still vaster, raising profound existential questions.
Other Star Trek films may be more entertaining, but they are all space opera, as much about the characters as big ideas. Yes, Star Trek II has the Genesis Device, but that movie is not about terraforming. Other Star Trek films feature time travel, cloning, environmental destruction and other science fiction concepts, but in each case these are merely storytelling devices, not the story itself. (Ironically, William Shatner's universally derided Star Trek V: The Final Frontier comes closest to telling an actual science fiction story - what if God turned out to be just another alien?)
Star Trek: The Motion Picture is full of little moments to love. Ilia's disintegration is artfully directed and shot by Wise; it's a genuinely chilling moment when the sound and fury of the probe that kills her is suddenly replaced by utter silence, save for her tricorder falling to the floor with a thud. The ugly transporter accident near the beginning of the film is also very effective not only as a moment of horror, but also implies that Kirk's obsessive behaviour in the film is having very dire consequences for the people around him. McCoy, as usual, gets the best one-liners, and his initial bearded, leisure-suited appearance is an image for the ages.
As an aside, I always feel bad for Captain Willard Decker. In the course of this film, Kirk takes away his ship and demotes him from Captain to Commander/Executive Officer for no good reason other than to satisfy his own desire to command the Enterprise again. Then, when the original science officer, Commander Sonak, dies in the aforementioned transporter accident, Kirk orders Decker to take on Sonak's duties as well as those of First Officer. Then Spock shows up and supplants Decker as science officer. A short time later, Decker is reunited with his old lover, Ilia, only to watch her killed before his eyes. When a robot duplicate of Ilia appears on the ship, Kirk orders Decker to interact with it to learn more about Vejur. One can only imagine how painful this must have been for Decker. Finally, when Vejur itself seems bent on sabotaging Kirk's attempts to resolve its existential crisis, Decker volunteers to merge with the machine entity, essentially killing himself - or at least sacrificing his physical form. To be fair, Decker himself says that he "wants this" as much as Kirk wanted the Enterprise, but still, no one in this film endures more than this ill-fated character.
Star Trek: The Motion Picture is by no means a great film. Objectively speaking, perhaps its not even a good film. But I appreciate it because it's ambitious, sincere, and asks big questions. I left the Gaiety Theatre that day as excited as I ever had been about a show and a world I loved, and having just watched it again on Blu-Ray, its charms are even more evident today. With the pacing of modern films having accellerated beyond breakneck speed, it's a pleasure to sit down with a movie that takes its time.
Labels:
Film,
Leaf Rapids,
Leduc,
popular culture,
Reviews,
Star Trek,
Star Trek: The Motion Picture
Tuesday, December 29, 2009
A View of The View from the Bridge
Books and movies have gotten me through some pretty tough times, and I'm fairly certain that this is the service they perform for most people, who could use a breather from reality and some inspiration every now and again, a time out before returning to the battle.
- Nicholas Meyer, The View from the BridgeNicholas Meyer is famous for, in roughly descending order: his writing and directing contributions to three of the best Star Trek films, the horrifying nuclear war telemovie, The Day After, and his Sherlock Holmes novels, The Seven Percent Solution in particular. In his new book, The View from the Bridge, Meyer, with wit, humanity, humility and candor, describes how his numerous books and movies were created, along with an honest accounting of his personal and creative failures.
Meyer's prose is clear, personal and inviting. With self-effacing humour and forthrightness, he explains his journey from New York to Hollywood, and how a combination of happy accidents and determination led to his so-called "overnight" success. He writes of the bad, early death of his mother and the years of psychotherapy that followed; and later, he shares the story of the painful loss of his first wife, who also died too young.
Star Trek fans, and fans of film in general, will find the chapters on moviemaking most illuminating. Anyone who follows the industry already understands that any film that actually gets produced is something of a miracle, and films that are actually good are even more miraculous. Meyer describes the everyday battles between writers, directors, producers and stars, including clashes over money, story, music and even the titles of the films themselves.
Someone said that Hollywood is like an extension of high school. I am not sure exactly what this means but I do acknowledge the place's stratified aspects, among which is the difference between having a hit and having a flop. With the success of The Wrath of Khan I was suddenly popular. If Time After Time had registered in the town's eyes, as a succes d' estime, The Wrath of Khan was just a big, fat hit and it catapulted me into the ranks of "bankable" directors.
- Meyer, from the chapter on The Day After
As profoundly influenced as I have been by Star Trek, Meyer's The Day After hit me nearly as hard, with its horrific vision of nuclear apocalypse. I was 14 when the telemovie was broadcast, and while I thought I was emotionally prepared for what I was about to see, no amount of warning could have prepared me for the sight of those mushroom clouds obliterating scores of human beings and leaving many more burned black with radiation. Meyer's bleak story conjured nightmares that lasted for weeks. Clearly he had his own trepidations about the prospect of tackling such a grim issue:
Like most people, I preferred to avoid the entire terrifying topic. What sort of person willingly immerses himself in the prospect of nuclear annihilation? Everyone knows the bombs are out there, Damoclean swords dangling over our necks, and that knowledge - semiconsciously carried around inside our heads - is more than sufficient for most of us.
But Meyer wanted a new challenge, and the film was made, with more than the usual amount of nervous nitpicking from the money men, including their insistence that the film show that it was the Soviets who started the war. Meyer wanted that point to remain ambiguous, and in the end he won out, to the benefit of the movie.
The Day After may have had a more profound impact than Meyer could have guessed, for some years later, when President Reagan signed the intermediate range missle treaty, Meyer received a postcard that said "Don't think your film didn't have something to do with this." Later on, Meyer discovered that Reagan's autobiography included a passage admitting that viewing the film had changed the President's outlook on the subject of nuclear war - where once he had thought of a nuclear conflict as winnable, after seeing and thinking about the film, he realized that no one wins a nuclear war.
Meyer himself is careful not to claim any credit for the easing of nuclear tensions during the late 80s and throughout the 90s. But I wouldn't be surprised if the movie did indeed help change some important minds. Perhaps books and movies have "gotten us through tough times," as Meyer writes, in more substantial ways then merely providing escape and inspiration.
I highly recommend The View from the Bridge to anyone interested in Star Trek, filmmaking or screenwriting.
Labels:
Books,
Film,
Nicholas Meyer,
popular culture,
Reviews,
Sherlock Holmes,
Star Trek,
The Day After,
The Seven Percent Solution
Monday, December 28, 2009
Adventures with the Adventure People
On Christmas morning in 1976, I opened up one of my favourite gifts: the Fisher-Price "Wilderness Patrol" Adventure People set. The set included everything an imaginative child could possibly need to create wild adventures from bits of inanimate plastic.
I played with these toys for years. They were durable, colourful and versatile. I had great fun floating the ATV and the pontoon boat in the puddles and streams of Leaf Rapids, or taking them all out for "desert adventures" on the sand dunes behind the Acklands store that my dad managed. The men of the Wilderness Patrol often teamed up with other action figures, fighting Stormtroopers and Cylons alongside Luke Skywalker and Han Solo.
But as with all boys, there came a day - shortly after I turned 13, I think - when I realized that action figures weren't cool anymore, that they were for little kids, and that it was time to move on to more sophisticated pursuits: baseball and board games, Atari and long afternoons at the Leduc Public Library. Eventually, when my friends and I were bored, the Adventure People and their action figure brethren became targets of abuse, worth nothing more than a few moments of destructive amusement. Poor Red was thrown into the whirling blades of a lawnmower, but he was tough and suffered only a few shallow gashes and a chunk of his scalp. Other figures weren't as lucky, rolled down playground slides and staircases to lose heads and limbs. Most were simply forgotten in old cardboard boxes and, I assume, carried off to charities or the junkyard by my parents.
I wish now that I'd been more considerate, that I'd recognized the immense value of these mass-produced trinkets. For they represented, first and foremost, the love of my parents, whose first goal was always the happiness of their children. And they helped me create miniature worlds, places where I couldn't go in the flesh; they were my avatars, and I'm grateful for the adventures we shared.
Labels:
Action Figures,
Adventure People,
Holidays,
Leaf Rapids,
Leduc,
Mom and Dad,
Star Wars,
The Earliad
Thursday, December 24, 2009
Stuff I Like About Christmas
- Log Channel
- Good King Wenceslas
- The Little Drummer Boy, particularly the Crosby/Bowie video version
- The calm of Christmas Eve/Christmas/Boxing Day after the shopping storm
- Family dinners
- The aura of goodwill
- A Charlie Brown Christmas
- It's a Wonderful Life
- The late 80s Superman story from a "Christmas with the Super-Heroes" special
- Lights and glitter
- The renewal of hope and the possibility of a better tomorrow.
None of this in any particular order. I may get curmudgeonly about certain aspects of Christmas sometimes (rampant consumerism, chiefly), but any even that gets people to think about kindness to others and peace on earth...well, that's an event worth celebrating.
More Greatest Hits
I've updated the Greatest Hits links to include the closing chapters of "Journey to the Edge of Nowhere," the first two parts of "Earl and Sean vs. the Flying Saucers," a couple of new(ish) book and movie reviews and assorted odds and ends.
Wednesday, December 23, 2009
Earl Will Not Be Pushed, Filed, Stamped, Indexed, Briefed, Debriefed, or Numbered!
Or perhaps he will. I've added labels/tags to each and every post here at My Name is Earl (J. Woods). Check the list under "Labels" and see if there are any topics that interest you.
A couple of labels need explanation. Posts labeled "Metablahg," including this one, are posts about the blog (which I call a "blahg" because of its former title) itself - its management, structure and so on.
Posts labelled "The Earliad" involve some aspect of my daily life, whether in the now or in the past.
Posts labelled "Silly Nonsense" are, well, silly; usually they contain a silly story or a silly photo that appeals to my odd sense of humour.
Many posts have multiple labels, so a post labelled "The Earliad" may also be labelled "science fiction," for example, if I'm posting about the day I read a novel AND got a new job (not a real example).
I hope this will make it easier for interested readers to search for posts that cater to their particular interests.
I've also been adding photos to older posts. There aren't too many yet, but I'll keep adding them wherever I think it will improve the blahg.
Tomorrow I'll update the "Greatest Hits" list.
A couple of labels need explanation. Posts labeled "Metablahg," including this one, are posts about the blog (which I call a "blahg" because of its former title) itself - its management, structure and so on.
Posts labelled "The Earliad" involve some aspect of my daily life, whether in the now or in the past.
Posts labelled "Silly Nonsense" are, well, silly; usually they contain a silly story or a silly photo that appeals to my odd sense of humour.
Many posts have multiple labels, so a post labelled "The Earliad" may also be labelled "science fiction," for example, if I'm posting about the day I read a novel AND got a new job (not a real example).
I hope this will make it easier for interested readers to search for posts that cater to their particular interests.
I've also been adding photos to older posts. There aren't too many yet, but I'll keep adding them wherever I think it will improve the blahg.
Tomorrow I'll update the "Greatest Hits" list.
Monday, December 21, 2009
Challenge of the Gauntlet in the Envelope
Colin Dunn issues a dark challenge from his home dimension.
Today Colin Dunn challenged Peter Harris andI me to publish a short story and get paid for it sometime in 2010.
All three of us have accomplished this feat once each in the past, then rested on our laurels and moved onto other things, despite our literary aspirations.
So the race is on. According to Colin's rules, the first to sell a story wins bragging rights, but that does not absolve the other contestants from completing the challenge. By hook or by crook, all three of us must sell a story by December 31, 2010, or face the shame of a failed quest.
Colin drops his gauntlet here.
Oh, and if anyone knows of any paying markets that still accept unsolicited manuscripts, please drop me a line via email or in the comments.
Peter Harris attempts to rub out the opposition.
Today Colin Dunn challenged Peter Harris and
All three of us have accomplished this feat once each in the past, then rested on our laurels and moved onto other things, despite our literary aspirations.
So the race is on. According to Colin's rules, the first to sell a story wins bragging rights, but that does not absolve the other contestants from completing the challenge. By hook or by crook, all three of us must sell a story by December 31, 2010, or face the shame of a failed quest.
Colin drops his gauntlet here.
Oh, and if anyone knows of any paying markets that still accept unsolicited manuscripts, please drop me a line via email or in the comments.
Peter Harris attempts to rub out the opposition.
Tuesday, December 15, 2009
Beware of Falling Canoes
Upon reading my last post, friend and colleague/boss Rick Miller pointed me in the direction of another Bill Mason NFB great, "The Rise and Fall of the Great Lakes." This 1968 short is new to me - either that, or I've forgotten it - but it's nonetheless delightful, with slapstick humour, some really terrific special effects, and an ecological message that resonates to this day. Mason's dynamic and colourful cinematrography is still very much in evidence, too. Also, it looks like the main actor in this film played the lighthouse keeper in "Paddle."
These films remind me of what a treasure we have in the National Film Board. Talk about a great return on our tax investment - decades of classic films of all kinds!
Does anyone else out there have fond memories of films and/or filmstrips they saw in school? Drop me a line in the comments, and a link to the film would be even better.
Labels:
Film,
National Film Board of Canada,
popular culture
Paddle to the Sea of Memory
One spring afternoon sometime in the mid-1970s, one of my grade-school teachers rolled a film projector into our classroom in Leaf Rapids. He darkened the lights and turned on the projector, flecks of dust visible in the cone of light. The projector’s fan whirred to life and film clattered from front reel to back, unspooling the beautiful and gentle tale of a young boy’s dream and his wooden creation’s incredible journey from Nipigon country to the Atlantic Ocean. The film was “Paddle to the Sea,” Bill Mason’s 1966 adaptation of the 1941 children’s book by Holling Clancy Holling. Another timeless gem from the National Film Board of Canada, the film was nominated for an Academy Award.
Over the years two or three other teachers played this film for my classmates and me; I probably saw it for the last time in grade seven or eight. Perhaps because I grew up in a remote wilderness very similar to that portrayed in the film, the story of Paddle-to-the-Sea’s improbable trek fascinated me. Like the boy who carved the little man and his canoe, I grew up surrounded by vast forests interrupted only by remote streams and rivers. And like the young carver, I dreamed of what wonders the world beyond might hold.
I love this film for a number of reasons: the beautiful colour cinematography, the whimsical sense of humour, the gentle, evocative narration, the understated but genuine performances of actors human, animal, and inanimate. (Paddle-to-the-Sea himself expresses a wide range of emotions thanks to Mason’s clever direction.)
But most of all, I love the film’s faith in the essential goodness of human nature. “Please put me back in the water,” reads a plea carved into the bottom of Paddle-to-the-Sea, and this plea is duly obeyed by all who read it, even though the beautifully crafted toy is a unique and wonderful treasure. Those who discover the little man and his boat are compelled by empathy for the boy; they help fulfill his dream that Paddle should reach the sea.
Whenever I feel disappointed in humanity’s foibles – our rush to war, our careless destruction of our environment, our everyday cruelty to each other – stories like this remind me that we are just as capable of greatness and good. I’m grateful to Holling C. Holling, the NFB, Bill Mason and my teachers, who all helped me see some of the beauty in man and the world.
After you’ve watched the film, be sure to read the original book. It’s just as wonderful as the film, with an expanded storyline and beautiful illustrations.
Labels:
Books,
Film,
Leaf Rapids,
National Film Board of Canada,
popular culture,
Reviews
Sunday, December 13, 2009
Peering Under the Dome
Like many fans of horror phenomenon Stephen King, I continue to read his work because I hope that each new book might be half as good as some of his terrific early novels. Salem's Lot, The Stand, The Dead Zone, The Shining, Different Seasons, The Gunslinger - these are the stories that made me a fan. Some say that while King has had occasional moments of brilliance since those early wonders, his best years are behind him.
I used to think so too, given blunders like Dreamcatcher and the entertaining yet somehow ultimately unfulfilling wrapup of The Dark Tower series. But King's last novel, Duma Key, surprised me with its poignant tale of the creative impulse and human loss. And Under the Dome is even better, a 1,000 page opus of human (and inhuman) cruelty.
What would happen if a small town were suddenly sealed beneath an impenetrable, invisible bubble? The book starts off with predicable mayhem as unwary travellers crash into the invisible wall with disastrous consequences; there's a plane crash and a number of gruesome car wrecks. All this is just window dressing, though; King is really interested in how people respond to a bizarre sort of slow-motion disaster.
It's hard to reveal King's central theme without spoiling the book, but I will say that King makes his argument in a simple but evocative way. King's greatest strength has always been his ability to pull his readers back to their childhoods, with all the pain and pleasure of those years. One flashback yanked me back to grade school and its terrors with surprising power and speed, and that scene turned out to be the book's central metaphor. It's brutal, perhaps a little obvious, but it works, bringing into sharp relief the good, the bad, and the simply incomprehensible motivations of a number of the book's characters.
Some have complained that Stephen King sometimes fumbles his endings, but in this case the story is tied up if not neatly, then at least with thematic resonance.
Under the Dome is a return to form for King, if not a return to greatness, but I'm nonetheless grateful that King hasn't finished sharing his stories.
I used to think so too, given blunders like Dreamcatcher and the entertaining yet somehow ultimately unfulfilling wrapup of The Dark Tower series. But King's last novel, Duma Key, surprised me with its poignant tale of the creative impulse and human loss. And Under the Dome is even better, a 1,000 page opus of human (and inhuman) cruelty.
What would happen if a small town were suddenly sealed beneath an impenetrable, invisible bubble? The book starts off with predicable mayhem as unwary travellers crash into the invisible wall with disastrous consequences; there's a plane crash and a number of gruesome car wrecks. All this is just window dressing, though; King is really interested in how people respond to a bizarre sort of slow-motion disaster.
It's hard to reveal King's central theme without spoiling the book, but I will say that King makes his argument in a simple but evocative way. King's greatest strength has always been his ability to pull his readers back to their childhoods, with all the pain and pleasure of those years. One flashback yanked me back to grade school and its terrors with surprising power and speed, and that scene turned out to be the book's central metaphor. It's brutal, perhaps a little obvious, but it works, bringing into sharp relief the good, the bad, and the simply incomprehensible motivations of a number of the book's characters.
Some have complained that Stephen King sometimes fumbles his endings, but in this case the story is tied up if not neatly, then at least with thematic resonance.
Under the Dome is a return to form for King, if not a return to greatness, but I'm nonetheless grateful that King hasn't finished sharing his stories.
Labels:
Books,
popular culture,
Reviews,
science fiction,
Stephen King
Tuesday, December 08, 2009
Dreams of Injustice
Last night, I dreamed that Batman and Superman were arresting a couple of mobsters.
Batman grabs a bowlful of cocaine and throws it at one mobster's head so hard that the bowl shatters and fills the air with a cloud of cocaine. Superman admonishes Batman for being so violent, then promptly uses his super-breath to blow all the cigarette butts and ashes out of an ashtray, right into the eyes and mouths of a couple more thugs, who of course hack and cough sputter in dismay.
Immediately afterward, I dreamed that Charlie Brown and Linus had at last moved from elementary school to junior high, and that Charlie Brown was shedding his loser persona and becoming more popular.
But the cafeteria management created a new seating plan, and Charlie Brown was forced to sit at a table by himself. Outraged, Linus stood up on a table and railed against the injustice of it all, then marched to the principal's office to complain. I followed him along, and waited in the office with Linus until I woke up.
I never dreamed that Superman would blow ashes and cigarette butts into someone's mouth. Until I dreamed it last night, that is.
Batman grabs a bowlful of cocaine and throws it at one mobster's head so hard that the bowl shatters and fills the air with a cloud of cocaine. Superman admonishes Batman for being so violent, then promptly uses his super-breath to blow all the cigarette butts and ashes out of an ashtray, right into the eyes and mouths of a couple more thugs, who of course hack and cough sputter in dismay.
Immediately afterward, I dreamed that Charlie Brown and Linus had at last moved from elementary school to junior high, and that Charlie Brown was shedding his loser persona and becoming more popular.
But the cafeteria management created a new seating plan, and Charlie Brown was forced to sit at a table by himself. Outraged, Linus stood up on a table and railed against the injustice of it all, then marched to the principal's office to complain. I followed him along, and waited in the office with Linus until I woke up.
I never dreamed that Superman would blow ashes and cigarette butts into someone's mouth. Until I dreamed it last night, that is.
Labels:
Batman,
Charlie Brown,
dreams,
Linus,
Peanuts,
popular culture,
Superman
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