It Came from the Garden

Earl waters some harmless flowers at Hole's Greenhouses in 2000. Photo by Akemi Matsubuchi.

Many years ago, I sold this article to The Old Farmer's Almanac Gardener's Companion. They sent me a cheque for US $400, but I never did see the published piece. Part of me wonders if they ever printed it. But hey, they bought it, so I guess that still counts as a sale - and a very lucrative one, considering it's a pretty light and fluffy piece that probably took me less than an hour to write.

It Came from the Garden!

There's nothing more idyllic than a summer afternoon spent with a book and a glass of lemonade, surrounded by your own jungle of colourful flowers, lush vines, and towering trees. But in the fantastic realms of science fiction, plants aren't always friends of humanity.

When Good Plants Go Bad

For millions of Canadians, plants are beautiful and benign, welcome residents of their gardens. But in popular culture, plants have often exhibited sinister, even blood-curdling traits. Just look at this brief list of killer plants in popular culture…

·         In the classic The Thing from Another World (1951, remade in 1982), scientists at an arctic research station discover a spaceship buried in the ice. They free the ship and its lone occupant, a Thing that turns out to be, according to the resident scientist, a form of sentient plant life. "Please doctor, I've got to ask this. It sounds like, well, just as though you're describing some form of super carrot," says Ned Scott, one of the men endangered by the beast. "An intellectual carrot. The mind boggles," he continues. Indeed.

·         In director Roger Corman's 1956 opus It Conquered the World, mankind is menaced by Zontar, an alien from Venus that fans have come to describe as the "space cucumber," for the being's resemblance to that vegetable.

·         Invasion of the Body Snatchers (1956, remade in 1978 and 1993), is perhaps the best known of the killer plant films, though the menace is far more subtle than other examples in the genre. Mysterious pods, drifting through outer space like pollen adrift on the wind, land and take root on Earth. The pods split open and grow, taking on the form of the nearest human being and eventually replacing them with cold, soulless, robotic duplicates.

·         Roger Corman had another hit with Little Shop of Horrors (1960, remade in 1986), the tale of well-meaning goof Seymour and his man-eating plant, Audrey Jr. Legend has it that Corman made this movie in just a few days, using sets and actors left over from another production that wrapped ahead of schedule.

·         "Beware the Triffids... they grow... know... walk... talk... stalk... and KILL!" So reads the tagline of The Day of the Triffids (1962), based on the classic novel by John Wyndham. After a streaking comet blinds most of the world's citizens, the Triffids, once domestic, ambulatory plants, rise up to shake off the chains of their oppressors.

·         Star Trek featured the mind-altering spore plants of Omicron Ceti III in "This Side of Paradise," the deadly dart-shooting plants of "The Apple," and the poisonous apples of "The Way to Eden," bitter fruit indeed for the hippie space travellers who searched for an Eden among the stars, only to discover death.

·         Attack of the Killer Tomatoes! (1978) sees every tomato lover's worst fears realized as tomatoes grow to immense size and rampage through the streets.

Other plant related pop culture trivia:

·         Just before the Attack of the Giant Leeches (1959), one of the eventual victims can be seen browsing through a seed catalogue.

·         Many gardeners are familiar with the insecticide Rotenone. Did you know that intrepid scientists used this chemical as a weapon against The Creature from the Black Lagoon (1958)?

·         Everyone remembers the anguish and horror in Charlton Heston's voice when he declares, at the end of Soylent Green (1973) that "Soylent Green is people!" In Harry Harrison's original novel, however, Soylent Green is nothing more sinister than a paste made of soybeans and lentils.

It's clear that in fiction, at least, gardening has a dark side. The plant as villain or monster is a relatively uncommon theme in storytelling, but it is none the less captivating for all that. While plants are usually harmless in real life (unless you poison yourself by eating something you shouldn't), they do have eerie qualities given the right circumstances. Unlike animals, for example, plants are silent, making no noise saved that caused by the wind rustling through their foliage. And they aren't mobile; they live and die rooted to one spot. Plants are, in fact, rather alien, compared to the human experience of living.

But when authors and filmmakers make plants into threats, they often to so by inverting their normal characteristics. In real life, plants are an absolutely essential component of the environment; without them, we could not survive. This is not necessarily the case in fiction. Normally immobile, monster plants often have the ability to move or use their vines like limbs. Silent in reality, monster plants may growl or slurp. What was once benign becomes an insidious, nightmarish threat. This perversion of the norm is what makes killer plants so horrifying; they are entirely outside real human experience.

One thing is certain—despite these imaginative horrors, gardening will remain a safe and enjoyable experience.

Sidebar: Villainous Vegetation, Fiendish Flora, and Heroic Herbs—Plants in Comic Books

One of the richest sources of plant-themed storytelling comes in the relatively new art form of comic books. Here's a short list of some plant-themed characters.

Swamp Thing

Transformed from a handsome scientist into a horrific plant-man, Alec Holland fights crime and protects the plant world as the hideous but heroic Swamp Thing.

Floronic Man

This flowery foe sows the seeds of crime in the Batman's path.

Poison Ivy

There's a femme fatale in the flowerbed! Another member of Batman's rogues gallery, Poison Ivy hates mankind, feeling they are a blight on her precious plants.

Chlorophyll Kid

A member of the ineffectual Legion of Substitute Heroes, Chlorophyll Kid has the amazing ability to toss seeds at the ground and make them grow super-fast. Handy in the garden, not so handy when fighting supervillains.

White Kryptonite

White Kryptonite isn't a character, but a substance encountered by Superman in several of his adventures. Formed when some of the more traditional green Kryptonite rocks passed through a mysterious "space cloud," white Kryptonite has the ability to destroy all plant life. Great for weeding!

Alberta Legislature: Calm Before the Storm

This sort of thing is old hat to a lot of people now, but I'm still pretty astounded that I shot this video with my phone this afternoon. I'm using a very cool iPhone application called 8mm, which replicates the sound and feel of old Super 8 home movie cameras. Back in the day, these cameras used actual film! I love the look.

The reason for the video's title? Alberta's MLAs will return to the Legislature on Tuesday. I plan to relax this weekend before the deluge. 

A Model of Patience

Sylvia tells me that she's impressed by my capacity to amuse myself. One day I was bored and wanted Sylvia to entertain me. But she was on the phone. How inconsiderate! But it wasn't a total loss; she very patiently allowed me to take some photographs of her conversation. I think this one turned out pretty well.

The Conscience of the King of Playwrights

Back in 1998, I sold this article about the 100th anniversary of Bertolt Brecht's birth to The Peak. I'm still pretty happy with it.

This year, Germans and lovers of the theatre all over the world are celebrating the 100^th anniversary of the birth of Bertolt Brecht, author of Galileo, The Caucasian Chalk Circle, The Threepenny Opera (origin of “Mack the Knife), and a score of other plays. Born 10 February 1898 in Augsburg, Bavaria, Brecht went on to become one of the most celebrated and controversial of the modern dramatists, earning the monikers “the German Shakespeare”  and “the poet of the Communist revolution,” this last nickname being applied to him because of his fervently Marxist outlook. In fact, so identified was he with the Communist cause that his plays were not performed in capitalist West Germany until after his death in 1956. His exposure in North America has been limited even today; the internationally renowned theatre company he formed in East Berlin, the Berliner Ensemble, did not perform on that continent until a 1986 performance in Toronto.

Indeed, Brecht was always something of an exile. He wrote in Germany during World War I, later fled the Nazis to work in Scandinavia, spent time in Hollywood writing screenplays (only to be forced to testify before the infamous House Un-American Activities Committee), and finished his life in East Germany. Along the way, he fathered three children by three different women and made a good deal of devoted friends and bitter enemies. His was not a life of moderation.

The Communist East appreciated the devotion of a famous and influential figure to their cause, but were uncomfortable with his unflinching devotion to art and to his own version of the truth. Plays like The Measures Taken (1926), in which an evangelical Communist shows her loyalty to the Party by meekly submitting to an unjust execution, even though the young Comrade knows herself to be in the right, anticipated the Stalinist fervor that would make life in the Soviet Union such a nightmare for hundreds of millions of its citizens. This kind of criticism made Soviet authorities distinctly uncomfortable; Brecht was never popular in the USSR, though Communist Party propagandists made much use of Brecht’s celebrity status. And while Brecht was profoundly influential in the West, affecting the careers of important English directors like Peter Brook and playwrights like John Arden and John Osborne, his politics were often thought to interfere with his art, making his plays just a little less effective than they could have been. Indeed, at the close of The Caucasian Chalk Circle (1945), the conclusion is so obviously a not-too-subtle rephrasing of “from each according to their abilities, to each according to his needs” that even the least astute reader feels like he’s been somewhat beaten over the head with the point. But then, Brecht was convinced that the theatre had to be a way to promote social change; he would not apologize for appearing to belabour his points. 

Brecht’s mode of storytelling, what has been termed “epic theatre,” has had more impact on drama than the plays themselves. Brecht took pains to point out that his method was really a rebellion against the relatively new phenomenon of the naturalistic theatre, wherein the audience is made to feel that they are merely eavesdropping on real events. He felt that the relatively new naturalist method of direction encouraged audiences to leave the theatre entertained and sated, but uninstructed in any way. It was too easy to enjoy; the audience was not required to think. In contrast, epic theatre uses older dramatic traditions like the aside, the monologue, or the chorus, devices that make a play less “realistic” but more intellectually engaging. In any play using the Brechtian mode, the audience cannot help but realize that they are watching a play - they cannot for one second believe that they are simply peering into a realistic world. For example, Brecht once painted the faces of a group of soldiers chalk-white to symbolize their fear of charging into battle - much more likely to provoke thought than a simple expression of fear on an actor’s face.  

In the early 20^th century, most plays used the naturalist method; it was almost like watching a movie. Today, more and more stage plays are using the traditional devices that Brecht brought back into the spotlight. Brecht’s influence can be seen in the works of Canadian playwright and director Brad Fraser, author of Unidentified Human Remains and the True Nature of Love and Poor Superman. In Poor Superman, the stage is very much an artifice; surreal forms take the place of furniture and the walls are made into a slideshow of rampaging comic-book characters. Critic Martin Esslin called epic theatre “a production naively sophisticated yet highly stylized.” Naïve, perhaps, but the evidence of Brecht’s impact is all around us.

To celebrate the centenary of Brecht’s death, a number of special events are happening all over the world through 1998. His childhood home in Augsburg was renovated and turned into a German national monument on February 10; a Brecht postage stamp was also produced. Several television specials on his life have already aired, and no less than three different CD packages have been released featuring Brecht’s songs and readings of his works. The Korean Brecht Society will be holding a conference in Seoul to celebrate the centenary during the final week of September this year, on the theme “Brecht in the Post-Socialist, Post-Modernist World.” Four films on Brecht’s life and work are currently in production. Canadian pop singer Jane Siberry participated in a celebration in Toronto in April. Perhaps most exciting is the planned publication of Bertolt Brecht’s War Primer, a controversial look at the Cold War that was originally released in 1955. Consisting of Brecht’s thoughts on the madness and futility of war, it was too frank for Cold War audiences on either side of the Iron Curtain to take; the 90s may be a more receptive era for this important, eloquent testimonial. The works of Bertolt Brecht may not have received the attention that they have deserved in recent decades, but it looks as though the long Brecht-fast is over at last.

Force Fed

In early 1997, at the urging of my friend Parvesh Bal, I finally submitted a piece of writing to a publisher - and it sold! My first article was published in Singapore's The Peak magazine back in June of 1997. For your amusement, here's the article.

FORCE - FED
How Special is Star Wars:  The Special Edition?

Is Star Wars really new and improved?  Like the rest of the world, I lined up to see it again, braving mobs of rabid, lightsaber-waving fanatics dressed up as Jedi Knights or Wookiees or Princess Leia. Darth Vader jumped the queue at the popcorn counter, but I was too intimidated to protest. Star Wars, the ultimate space opera, is back in theatres, and, to paraphrase the inimitable Vader, there will be no one to stop it this time.

Not that anyone stopped it the last time, either, back in 1977.  It became the highest grossing film of all time, held that honour until E.T. came along in 1982, and now it has reclaimed the top spot, crossing the $400 million dollar mark. This should come as no surprise, as this new version of the science fiction classic, with new special effects and added footage, has been hyped constantly for almost a year. Why the new edition?  Was there something wrong with the old version? Or is this just a cynical grab for money?    

Clearly, everyone loved this film when it was first released - I know that I did.  When I first saw Star Wars, I was eight years old.  It cost 75 cents to get into the only theatre in the little mining town of Leaf Rapids, Manitoba, and that included a pop and a bag of chips.  My best friend Kelly and I went three times in the first week, and we immediately begged our parents for Star Wars toys. I got R2-D2, the little droid who looked like a garbage pail with legs. Kelly got Luke Skywalker, the last one in the store, and I was a little envious - after all, Luke was the hero - but I grew really attached to that feisty little beeping garbage pail, and we wound up collecting the whole set of characters, anyway. R2 became, and remains, my favourite - twenty years later, I still have the little guy in a box somewhere, paint faded, plastic chipped, but stubbornly intact, just like its onscreen doppleganger.

The movie inspired great devotion. My little brother, only six months old and not quite yet hip to the Star Wars scene, made the unforgivable error of throwing my Stormtrooper action figure (boys never called them "dolls") out the window of our truck while we were speeding down the highway. I had a fit, naturally, making Mom and Dad stop so that we could get out and look for it. This was summer in northern Manitoba - which meant that the ditches we were combing in search of my lost toy were filled with enormous mosquitoes, blackflies, and other unsavory creatures. An hour later, my infinitely patient father shouted triumphantly and lifted the scraped but whole Stormtrooper into the air. We resumed our journey, and I rolled up the window before letting my brother play with my things again. So profound was my relief that I didn't even notice the mosquito bites.  

My most memorable Star Wars moment happened in 1979. A friend and I were playing with those wonderful dolls, enacting our own little scenes like every other kid on the continent. At one point, my friend Keith was playing the role of Luke Skywalker, rattling his little plastic lightsaber in Darth Vader's face, who I controlled.  In my best menacing baritone, I said "Do not fight me, Luke....I am your father."

Imagine our shock and delight a few months later when Vader and Luke had an almost identical exchange in The Empire Strikes Back.  I promptly decided that I was psychic, but later experiments proved that I'd just gotten lucky.  It was probably just as well.  No psychic flashes foreshadowed Return of the Jedi, so none of the surprises in that film were spoiled.

Years passed; adolescence turned to young adulthood; young adulthood slipped away to that dreaded period known as "Dear God, I'm about to turn Thirty." Star Wars became a pleasant memory of easier, more innocent times.

Now it's back. This time I went to the movie alone, with jaded eyes and an outlook not quite as open to romance, heroism, and swashbuckling. This time I went because I was disturbed by the notion of filmmakers going back and editing their works, "cleaning them up" for a more sophisticated audience. This time I went because the unceasing barrage of advertising made it almost compulsory to do so. It was either go, or endure the endless cries of "Have you seen the Special Edition yet?"  There was no joy or anticipation in the prospect of seeing this "new" version. I am, after all, an adult, far more interested in the sociological implications of this restoration than in cheap thrills and derring-do. How dare Lucas meddle with Art, even if it was his own work? Would da Vinci have changed the Mona Lisa a few years later if he decided that her eyes should have been a different colour? The notion is ridiculous. I sat down and crossed my arms sternly before me, prepared for the worst.

It didn't take long for the old magic to penetrate my curmudgeon's shell.  That magnificent opening shot of the Rebel cruiser being chased by an Imperial Star Destroyer is even more awe-inspiring now, thanks to Industrial Light and Magic's retooling. It was an impressive sight in 1977; one is forced to admit that the new, updated special effects do indeed enhance the film, making some scenes merely clearer and crisper, others into audience-rattling spectacles. The destruction of Alderaan is truly frightening in its power and realism now, adding to the impact of the movie. Lucas has even added a few scenes that had once lain on the cutting room floor, enhancing some story points and giving key characters more depth. In fact, my only quibble is that the much-ballyhooed Han Solo/Jabba the Hut meeting features dialogue repeated almost verbatim from the Solo/Greedo confrontation from a few minutes earlier in the film, obviously a result of Lucas having dropped the Jabba scene in the original movie. Still, this scene serves as welcome foreshadowing for events to come in the sequels. More welcome is the reunion of Luke and his friend Biggs just before the final battle over the Death Star; during the original release, we wondered why Biggs' fate was treated as such an important moment when he was such a seemingly peripheral character. Now, we understand why Luke looks so upset when Biggs meets his doom.

By film's end, I wanted to cheer along with everyone else as the Death Star exploded. Being a responsible adult, of course, I didn't indulge in such behavior...but it was a near thing. I still feel that the notion of retroactively altering a movie in such a radical way raises several disturbing issues (will jingoistic war movies of the 1940s be reinterpreted so that some of the uncomfortably racist scenes are eliminated?), in this case I think that the final product justifies the tampering. For when I left the theatre, I saw a new generation of eight year olds clutching their little R2-D2s, imagining worlds long, long ago and far, far away...and anything that stimulates the sense of wonder in our children can only be seen as that rarest of things, an unqualified good.  Star Wars isn't really about special effects, after all; it's about heroes, and Good and Evil, bravery and sacrifice and nobility; none of these things are lost in the enhancement. Take a couple of hours this weekend and let yourself be a child again; lose yourself in the exploits of an intrepid band of galactic adventurers.  Remember your innocence, and...May the Force Be With You. 

*****

LOOKING BACK: I'm less fond of Lucas' revisionism these days. I now feel that the additional Biggs scene is probably the only worthwhile change, and I notice now that I didn't even mention the infamous "Han shot first!" debacle. Still, I think this article holds together fairly well; I'd forgotten I'd included so many personal memories.

My Valentine

I've never been comfortable with public displays of affection or grand romantic gestures. For years, Valentine's Day itself was a subject of some scorn for me, a holiday manufactured by shadowy figures trying to sell chocolate, diamonds and greeting cards.

But when I first really looked into Sylvia's big googly eyes, I couldn't remain cynical about love, because I was finally feeling it. Every day takes on new meaning thanks to her. No matter what life throws at me, I always feel better when she's around.

This concludes this year's public declaration of love. We now return to our scheduled program of book and movie reviews, political notes, pop culture analysis and silly nonsense about comic books and Star Trek.

But first, some more cute photos of Sylvia.

Sylvia couldn't resist pulling on Mike's mohawk.

100 Books a Year?

Back in December, Sylvia and I met Bruce and Leslie at Joey's for dinner. During our conversation, Bruce asked me if I thought I read 100 books a year - a goal Leslie was shooting for. Without really thinking about it, I shrugged and said, "Sure."

But since then, I've wondered. 100 books a year is about two books per week, roughly. And I don't have time to read as much as I used to. So for fun, I decided to track my reading in 2011. Here's what I've read so far:

A Disturbance of Fate (Mitchell J. Freedman, 2003): Alternate history novel about the presidency of Robert Kennedy. 

Exegesis (Astro Teller, 1997): Epistolary by email between an emergent computer intelligence and the PhD student who accidentally designed it.

Geodesic Dreams (Gardner Dozois, 1992): Excellent short story collection from the accomplished SF editor. 

Hell Can Wait (Theodore Judson, 2010): See my review here.  

The Martian General's Daughter (Theodore Judson, 2008): Moving narrative describing the long, painful decline of technological civilization.

Player One (Douglas Coupland, 2010): The first fiction offering in the CBC's Massey Lecture Series. Interesting character study set during the chaos following a peak oil crisis.

Starbound (Joe Haldeman, 2010): Sequel to Haldeman's first-contact novel Marsbound.

Star Trek 365 (Paula Block, 2010): Given the number of books I've read about Star Trek, I was surprised that this thick, colourful behind-the-scenes tome still had some new stories and photographs to offer.

U.S.S. Enterprise Haynes Owners' Workshop Manual (Ben Robinson and Marcus Riley, 2010): Parodying the popular Haynes workshop manuals by creating one for the various Starships Enterprise should have produced a fascinating cultural oddity, but the lightweight execution leaves a lot to be desired. Fails to live up to its potential.  

The World in 2050 (Laurence C. Smith, 2010): Study of the "four forces shaping civilization's northern future:" climate change, demographics, demand on natural resources, and globalization. Interesting for Albertans in that the book opens with a trip to Fort McMurray and a tour of the oil sands.

That's ten so far, about six weeks into the year. Looks like I'm on track to reach 100!

They Say They Want a Revolution

I was earning my political science degree at the University of Alberta when the peoples of eastern Europe rose up in a wave of protest to overthrow their dictators. Events quickly rendered our textbooks obsolete, and professors had to rework their lesson plans to fit the new context. One of my professors was of Latvian descent, and I still remember his overwhelming joy and excitement when he talked about the peaceful Singing Revolution in the Baltic states.

It was an exciting time to be a student, a time when the Utopian visions of my beloved science fiction novels seemed within reach. But even as eastern Europe became freer, similar protests were crushed in China. The road to a better world was, as always, fraught with danger.

Now the peoples of north Africa are rising up in search of a better life. No one can say whether the dreams of Tunisians, Egyptians, and Algerians will be fulfilled or swept aside. But I find it heartening that humanity is now witnessing yet another wave of relatively peaceful political change.

Is there such a thing as a secular prayer? If there is, then I offer up my hopes for the people of north Africa, and for the rest of us, too; one day, if we are wise and very lucky, all the peoples of Earth will work together to gradually build a civilization of perfect justice, prosperity and freedom. That civilization is a long way off, but today, it seems, the people of north Africa are doing their part to create it.

The Day I Sat in the Prime Minister's Chair

Just before graduating from high school, I was one of a few students from across the country chosen to participate in the Forum for Young Canadians. Thanks to the generosity of my parents and Leduc Composite High School's student council, I was flown to Ottawa to experience how the federal government works. On May 12, 1987, three or four of us split off from the main tour of Parliament. A friendly guard escorted us into the House of Commons, where I posed for this photo in the Prime Minister's chair. (I posed for another, standing in the Speaker's chair, but I don't have that one scanned.)


I couldn't help but feel awe as I absorbed the atmosphere and gazed at all the empty chairs around me. In a few hours, those seats would be filled by people discussing issues affecting millions of citizens. They'd argue and shake their fists and sometimes turn purple with rage, but as our representatives they'd hash our their differences with words, not violence. This is the great blessing of civilization. Democracy can be ugly, but how much uglier are the alternatives?

At the time I still considered myself a Conservative, though my faith in that particular ideology had been shaken by my experiences as a PC volunteer during the 1986 provincial election. Meeting Brian Mulroney in person  did nothing to bolster my confidence in Tory beliefs.

Even so, I still came out of the experience with enhanced respect for elected officials, whatever their party affiliation. I saw how hard they worked for often dubious rewards, including the scorn of the very people who put them in office. Politicians should, of course, expect such scrutiny; their job demands it. But I feel empathy for those who choose to serve.

Stuck in the Mojave

In August 2000, I helped Allan move down to California. He rented the biggest U-Haul available, with a trailer for his car. Halfway between Las Vegas and Los Angeles, the U-Haul stopped working, and we were trapped in the Mojave desert.

The heat was blistering. I pointed north, for I knew that if we walked in that direction, it would get cooler eventually.

Fortunately, the truck started up again after we waited an hour or so for the engine to cool off. Before long, we were in Los Angeles. A couple of days later, after unpacking Allan's metric whammoload of stuff, we dropped off the U-Haul.

"Where did y'all come down from?" asked the U-Haul guy.

"Edmonton," Allan said.

"That shore is a lawgn draave," drawled the U-Haul guy.

Long drive or not, I'm glad we made it through the desert. For a while there, I was imagining us as skeletons, sprawled out in the scrub, reaching for salvation, bones bleached the colour of iPod boxes.

Jeff and Susan

When not enjoying My Name is Earl (J. Woods), I heartily recommend the blogs of husband-and-wife team Jeff and Susan Shyluk. Jeff is an artist, and shares his work with the world on Jeff Shyluk's Visual Blog (JSVB). Susan is a nurse, and shares her words with the world at Singing in the Rain (SITR).

See what geeks they are! Spock, Green Lantern and the Enterprise-D adorning their walls. Even though this was taken in 1995, it's still a pretty bold display of shameless nerd-dom.

Wait - this was shot in my parents' basement.

Earl vs. the Gorn

There I was, gazing out at the stars through a viewport in a lonely corner of Starbase 22, when suddenly a Gorn soldier appeared out of nowhere! I raised my hands in a defensive posture as the reptilian warrior menaced me with a quarterstaff.

"Are you Earl J. Woods?" the Gorn asked, the universal translator turning its sibilant hisses into AI-accented English.

"Why, yes I am," I said, regaining my composure.

"We of the Gorn Confederacy have heard that you work in politics," hissed the Gorn.

"Well, technically I work for the Alberta taxpayers," I explained. "As an employee of the Official Opposition, I provide non-partisan assistance to Members of the Legisla-"

"Perturb me not with your foolish human niceties," said the Gorn. "We of the Gorn Confederacy have heard that you are also a shameless purveyor of puns."

I hesitated. "Some might say that's true, but I don't see what one has to do with the other."

"Bah! See here - this large wooden pole I'm holding in my hand," said the Gorn.

"Yes, I see," I said, uncomprehending.

"This pole is hollow," the Gorn said. "It's an example of the feeding tubes the Excalbians use to slurp lava for sustenance."

"Okay..." I said.

"With your political background, surely you can see where this is heading!" hissed the Gorn.

I thought for a moment, my eyes rolling toward the ceiling in thought.

"It's a straw pole," said the Gorn, shaking the pole. "Get it?"

I shrugged my shoulders and turned toward my blog audience, breaking the fourth wall into smithereens as I offered an apologetic grin.

STRAW POLL:

Was this post:
a) humorous
b) painful
c) evidence that posting once a day for over a month is taking its toll

Go Speed Racers

In August 2003, Sylvia and I travelled to BC's Radium Hot Springs. It was our first trip together as a couple, and Sylvia introduced me to the pleasures of go-kart racing. I was holding my own until the final lap, when Sylvia pulled up from behind and left me in the dust. In my defence, this was my first time racing, and Sylvia had driven on this track before, so she was on familiar terrain.

I found go-kart racing surprisingly exhilarating. I wonder why we haven't raced since. Sounds like a good activity to pursue this summer.

Earning Their Space Pay

Skylab, the US' first space station, was pretty big news in the 1970s. So perhaps it's only natural that the writers of DC Comics' Justice League of America wanted to pay homage to the intrepid space pioneers by giving them a one-panel cameo on the splash page. They even note Skylab's "twelfth record-breaking week in outer space."

But how must these astronauts feel, cooped up in a tin can made of Apollo program leftovers, when they can see the colossal Justice League satellite way up above them in geosynchronous orbit? The JLA satellite has room to accommodate dozens of people in a shirtsleeve (or spandex) environment - and it features artificial gravity and a teleporter, not to mention private staterooms. Meanwhile, Skylab astronauts have to poop in plastic bags and eat food through a straw. No wonder they'd give up half their "space pay" to trade places with the Leaguers.

This is one of the ways in which the conventions of the superhero genre batter suspension of disbelief into jelly. If such fantastic technology exists, why haven't the world's superheroes used it to uplift the entire human species? Imagine the problems they could solve with teleportation and artificial gravity alone. Instead, they use their advanced science to stop people in silly costumes from robbing banks (or, to be fair, from destroying the world.)

See Reed Richards is Useless at TV Tropes for more on this baffling storytelling convention.

One Last Shot at Redemption: Theodore Judson's Hell Can Wait

Several years ago, I reviewed Theodore Judson's first SF novel, Fitzpatrick's War. In late 2010, Alberta's own Edge Publishing released Judson's latest work, Hell Can Wait, a comic fantasy of empathy and redemption.  

Hell Can Wait is less layered and intricate than Fitzpatrick's War or The Martian General's Daughter, but it's also more hopeful.This is the tale of Maternus, a Roman soldier who spends centuries in Hell before being granted one final chance at salvation. Given the ability to read, command of the English language, and a set of tests to pass, Maturnus is thrust into 21st-century Colorado to learn how to control his violent rage and nurture the spark of empathy that gained him this final opportunity in the first place.

An angel, Mr. Worthy, and a demon, Banewill, follow Maturnus' progress, one hoping for the Roman's salvation, the other for his damnation. Long-suffering Banewill knows the odds are against him - after all, good always triumphs over evil in the end - but he gamely does his best to keep Maturnus in hell by increasing the difficulty of the Roman's challenges. Worthy agrees, perhaps because gaining entrance to Heaven shouldn't be easy.

The tasks? Maturnus must, for example, help love blossom between a bullied, overweight, introverted nerd and the most terrifying girl in school. He must help a bitter old woman find happiness in her dying years. And he must play the matchmaker between a forty-something eccentric and the librarian who's infatuated by the loser's best friend, a handsome poet. And all the while, Maturnus dreams of Maria, a slave girl he encountered just once, a girl who impressed him with her bravery, a girl who fanned the flames of Maturnus' inherent decency.

Maturnus is a smart guy, but his ancient background leaves him somewhat at sea when navigating 21st-century societal norms. His manner is blunt, but never deliberately unkind, and his status as an outsider helps him cut through the nonsense of modern human interaction to help people discover their own true worth. In seeking out his own redemption, Maturnus helps others find theirs.

Judson's dry wit and keen observational humour permeate the novel. Despite the high stakes, this is a very funny book. I laughed aloud at several passages, an uncommon experience for me. At one point, Maturnus goes out to the movies with his friends. Although not stated explicitly, it's clear they're watching Zack Snyder's 300, and Maturnus' reaction to the film is both amusing and a sly commentary on modern tastes.

Judson uses humour to underscore his main theme, the possibility of redemption for all, even those previously cast down to hell. In Judson's mythology, damnation and redemption are fluid; just as in life, good actions and bad in the afterlife earn reward and punishment. But on balance, the architects of the universe clearly favour forgiveness. Though people have their faults in both life and death, one is left with the impression that in the ultimate end, everything works out all right. It's an uplifting message for an uncertain era, especially coming from an author whose previous works have documented the slow decay of human civilization.

I'm frustrated that Judson hasn't found the commercial success or widespread acclaim he deserves. His characters are rich, his storytelling compelling, his prose straightforward but smooth. I'm grateful that Edge has given Judson another chance to succeed, and I highly recommend Hell Can Wait to anyone who enjoys science fiction, fantasy, or romance.

Forever Saying Goodbye

The best thing about working in politics is becoming friends with passionate idealists who really want to change the world for the better. The worst thing about working in politics is the high turnover. Today was Tanara McLean's last day as the Media Liaison for the Alberta Liberal Caucus.

Not only was Tanara great at her job, she also brightened up the office with her energy and enthusiasm. She was an extremely talented videographer and podcast producer; I'll miss those shows. But she came from the world of media and back to the world of media she returns. Pretty soon I'll be able to point to the TV and say, "Hey, I knew her!" Thanks for two great years, Tanara.

I would be remiss if I didn't also belatedly mention the departure of correspondence/public relations whiz Amanda Krumins, who left us a couple of months ago. Amanda's one of the smartest people I've ever worked with, and her refreshing candor always left an indelible impression at meetings. When she joined us back in 2007, I was finally able to talk about Buffy the Vampire Slayer and Angel at work without being looked at like a crazy person.It was a blast working with you, Amanda.

Change is, of course, the lifeblood of politics; such comings and goings are an indelible part of the political life. But it can be hard to lose the comfortable familiarity of fulfilling office camaraderie. Amanda, Tanara, Neil and so many others - I still think about you, and I hope you're all doing well, wherever you've chosen to travel.

The Young Journalists

Back in high school, I served as Editor-in-Chief of the school newspaper. The Representative, Leduc's newspaper, even gave me an award for it; I only mention it because I just remembered that odd little fact. I don't remember why the award was given or if we published anything that merited the recognition, but I do remember the fun we had. The guy with the gun is British expatriate Jonathan Wright, a madcap fellow who was a whiz with the Apple Lisa pictured in the background. He handled a variety of tasks, from photography to layout, and contributed some of the newspaper's stranger articles.

I'm not really sure why I'm regarding Jonathan with such consternation - perhaps because he brought a gun to the Visual Communications lab? (It was only plastic.)

Years later, I ran into Jonathan at the Legislature Annex, where I work for the Alberta Liberal Caucus. I was surprised to learn that Jonathan was working for the communications staff of then-Premier Ralph Klein, and had even written speeches for him (see correction below)- just as I'd written speeches for Official Opposition Leader Kevin Taft.

The era of Ralph Klein and Kevin Taft seems like it happened decades ago, but it was only 2006. Time flies in politics - faster now than ever before.

As an aside, Jonathan introduced me to the Internet way back in 1986. It was he who showed me how to hook up a 300 baud modem to a computer to access Edmonton's electronic bulletin boards, or BBSes. Back then the text (and there was only text) loaded so slowly that most people read far faster than the data scrolled by. Nowadays, political communicators and journalists are bound together by the Internet, sharing scoops, spreading rumours and trading barbs in real time. Given the tone of most of these communications, it seems a mixed blessing.

CORRECTION: Jonathan himself emailed me to note that my memory is a little off. Jonathan wasn't writing speeches for Premier Klein; rather, he prepared media briefings for Klein, and later for Jim Dinning and Stockwell Day. He's since moved on. Thanks for the correction and for touching base, Jonathan!

David Swann Enjoys a Night Off

I'm not feeling well today but I'm really trying to post something at least once per day. So in light of Alberta Liberal Leader David Swann's farewell, here he is at the 2009 press gallery Christmas party with Sylvia and me.

I suppose this really wasn't a night off for David - for politicians, even parties bring with them obligations to mix with the crowd and make connections. Every person is a potential supporter - or an opponent. That's especially true when you're talking about a crowd of reporters.

Exit David Swann

David Swann will step down as Official Opposition Leader following the end of the spring sitting of the Alberta Legislature. A man of boundless compassion and integrity, David worked for social justice in some of the world's poorest countries, entered war zones at great personal risk to help innocent people, and continues to fight to protect Alberta's environment and public health care.

Despite a compelling personal story and his unquestionable commitment to build a better Alberta, Dr. Swann never really connected with voters. I think that's a shame. Given his background as a physician, his ties to both the oil and gas industry and the environmental movement, and his trust in the scientific method, Swann could have been a transformative leader for Alberta. But as many others have already said, it seems as though you have to be a bit of a bastard to succeed in politics, and David, while he had his moments of steely determination, is the kind of man who always empathizes with his friends, strangers and political enemies alike - if he could even bring himself to call anyone an enemy. That empathy - his greatest strength as a human being - perhaps became his greatest weakness as a leader.

And yet, I'm glad that David didn't sacrifice his kindness and compassion on the altar of short-term political gain. You don't have to be Premier to change the province - and the world - for the better. David has already done more for the world than most of us ever will, and I'm certain that he'll continue to do so for many years to come.

Dr. Swann, it was an honour to have worked with you.