Earl and the Sherman Tank

After many long, long weeks of speculation, the government has finally called Alberta's next provincial election. During campaigns the workload at caucus offices drops considerably, since there are no longer any MLAs; they're all out on the campaign trail (or retiring). So I left a little early today, and on the way out I was lucky enough to stumble across Official Opposition Leader Raj Sherman's campaign truck, affectionately dubbed "the Sherman Tank." Given my thumbs-up and my work history, it's probably no mystery who I'll be supporting this election (I even live in Edmonton-Meadowlark, Sherman's home constituency, so I'll be voting directly for Raj).

But as always the most important thing in any election is that people study the issues and vote on election day - April 23rd. This time around there are plenty of choices; we have traditional parties such as the Alberta Liberals, Progressive Conservatives and New Democrats as well as made-in-Alberta upstarts from both sides of the political spectrum: the Wildrose Alliance on the right and the Alberta Party on the centre-left. The new EverGreen party will be contesting at least a few constituencies as well.

I'm painfully aware that many Canadians have grown cynical about politics and that any entreaties I make can hardly be seen as unbiased; my job, after all, depends upon how well the Alberta Liberals do in this election. (Caucus budgets are set according to how many MLAs each party elects to the legislature.) And yet I will entreat anyway: please vote. In 2008, only 40 percent of Albertans bothered to cast a ballot. The fewer Albertans participate in democracy, the more power is focussed in the hands of the few who choose exercise their democratic rights. We all have a stake in governance, and if after reading the various party platforms you still can't put your trust in any of them, well, you can still send a message by spoiling your ballot.

Canadians in Sherman tanks fought for democracy in World War II. This spring's election in Alberta is part of their legacy. Let's not let them down.

Methods of My Madness

Perhaps to my own detriment, I use no single creative process when preparing each day's blog post. Sometimes I take extensive notes about a film or television episode and use that to craft an in-depth analysis. Other times I'll spend a few days experimenting with Photoshop or video editing software before posting the (usually mixed) results. Sometimes I'll write a short story in one sitting, without substantive editing; when I'm feeling more patient, I'll spend hours or months honing a story before posting it. 

Usually I take notes the old-fashioned way, with pen and paper. But I just stumbled across an old Word document containing my outline - such as it is - for my review of Superman Returns. Here are my initial scattered thoughts about the film: 

To Krypton and Back

Performances/casting: excellent

Plot: too many holes, could have been easily patched

Themes: alienation, loss, closure, possibilities

Characterization: Tricky. Clark was great, Superman was a little creepy.

“I’m always around.”

Here's the resulting review. Aside from coming up with a better title for the post, it appears as though most of my notes found their way into the final review. Neat.

Golda Glasses

Several years ago our friend Claire Golda painted these personalized wine glasses for Sylvia and me. I think they're delightfully whimsical, and I'm indebted to Claire for her flattering interpretation of my waistline!

Watch This!

"Watch this!" is a phrase often heard on countless Internet videos. It's often heard just before someone hurts himself while attempting some silly stunt.

While it's easy to laugh at such slapstick antics, I do sympathize with the would-be Knievels, for I too have felt the clarion call of danger. To wit: our car's console features twin power outlets.

Ever since we bought it last August, I've wondered what would happen if I stuck my finger in one of the sockets while the car was running. Would I be shocked? Or are there built-in safeguards to prevent curious fools from hurting themselves? What if I stuck a finger in each socket at the same time?

I'm not dumb enough to try the experiment for real, but I remain curious.

The Lex-Bow Incident

Alas poor Luthor, lynched by the metahuman community for crimes against humanity never proven in a court of law! Missing an arm, strung up in his trademark purple suit! They call themselves a "justice" league? Calumny!

Broken Bottle Bloodbath

Today my colleague Stephanie warned Official Opposition staff that only plastic bottles should be deposited in our bottle recycling bin, pointing out that some glass bottles had been improperly put there and shattered.

Stephanie's cautionary note reminded me of a long-ago incident involving the dangers of broken glass bottles.

In 1992, while I was working as an auto parts delivery driver for now-defunct Norwest Automotive, a compatriot - one of the parts men - warned me that our recycling bin contained a broken bottle. He did so by leaning into the bin and pointing at the bottle in question with an outthrust finger, impaling it directly on a shard of razor-sharp glass protruding from the shattered bottleneck. His dialogue:

“Hey Earl, watch out; there’s a broken bottle in hUUARRRTGHHHHHHHH!!!”

He recoiled and blood squirted from his finger all over the bin and surrounding walls. The manager rushed in and shouted,

“What’s going on? It looks like Freddy’s Final Nightmare in here.”

Fortunately a quick application of gauze and a band-aid staunched the flow of lifeblood, and my colleague suffered no permanent ill effects. 

The moral of the story: beware broken bottles, lest lifeblood be loosed! 

Butchart Off the Charts

Back in 2009 Sylvia and I visited Vancouver Island and The Butchart Gardens. I was most impressed with one of the Gardens' most stunning features, the sunken garden, an old mine site transformed into a spectacular Eden. Atop the sunken garden mound stands a massive red-wooded tree; if you look at the people near the bottom of the photo, you begin to appreciate the scale of the tree and the garden that surrounds it. Even this image captures but a tiny slice of the sunken garden's scope.

Smokin' New Law

Working in politics can be frustrating when you're in opposition, but once in a blue moon you have a really good day. Today was one of those days - a day when you feel like a true public servant doing good work for the people of Alberta.

In a moment so rare that I've been unable to find out if it's ever happened in Alberta before today, an MLA other than a government member proposed a bill that actually passed third reading in Alberta Legislature. That piece of legislation, Bill 203, was brought to the floor of the assembly by none other than Official Opposition Leader Raj Sherman.

It's a great bill - well, a great law, now - that makes it illegal to smoke in a vehicle while there are minors present, punishable by a $1000 fine on the first offence. As an emergency room doctor, it's only natural that Dr. Sherman brought this bill forward to protect kids from the health hazards of second-hand smoke. Even the PC government found it impossible to vote against this bill!

It's important to note, however, that the government has hedged its bets a little, amending the bill so that it doesn't come into force on January 1, 2013, as Raj intended, but upon "proclamation," which means that the government retains final control over when the law takes effect - if ever, if one were feeling cynical. But I hope that the PCs will see that it doesn't benefit anyone to delay. The sooner smokers break the habit of smoking cars with kids, the better for all concerned.

The Joys of Moving

Way back in 2004, Sylvia and I moved into our first condo together. Twenty wonderful friends and family members helped us cram all our formerly-separate stuff together into one new abode. As one might expect, it was a little cramped at first:

A Pastiche of Mars

I am a very young man; how young I do not know. Possibly I am but twelve, perhaps younger; but I cannot tell, for I have never aged as other men, nor do I anticipate adulthood. And yet I feel that I cannot remain a very young man forever, that some day I shall grow to full maturity from which there is no coming back. I do now know why I should fear adulthood, I who have stayed young at heart despite the abuses of a cynical world; but yet the horror of it remains, and it is because of this terror of maturing that I am so convinced of its inevitability.

And because of this conviction I have determined to remain young at heart for as long as possible and write down the stories that keep me that way, the interesting periods of my life and growth.

Edgar Rice Burroughs wrote many such stories, and it is because of that imaginative American that I found my heart ensnared by the wonders of pulp adventure: Tarzan yes, but above all, John Carter of Mars. Burroughs' twelve novels of Mars preserved my heart in a perpetual state of boyhood; in some sense, I shall always be the boy waiting to fall asleep one night on prosaic Jasoom to awaken in wonder on far Barsoom. And with ninth-ray pistol in one hand and sword in the other, I shall fight for fair Helium and the incomparable Sylvia Boucher, (other) Princess of Mars.

It was with such visions in my mind that I and my noble brother Sean ventured to west Edmonton's looming mall to partake in a motion picture, named John Carter; that being Disney's loose but thematically faithful adaptation of Burroughs' first novel of Barsoom, A Princess of Mars.

As a fervent admirer of Burroughs and a skeptic of the works of said Disney, I feared that John Carter, the film, would prove unworthy. What actress could possibly capture the power and beauty of the incomparable Dejah Thoris, Princess of Mars? What actor could embody the savage nobility of John Carter of Virginia? What special effects wizardry could bring to life the arid vistas of dying Barsoom, with its magnificent and terrible beasts - the great white apes, the Tharks, the banths? Could men (and of course women) of the 21st century understand and interpret faithfully stories now a century old?

My fears proved boundless. While John Carter is not the picture-perfect adaptation my twelve-year-old heart has been waiting for all my life, it is a splendid attempt - an adventure in the classic style, with twists and turns and coincidences and derring-do, and most importantly of all, romance. Fathers and daughters are reconciled; new love blooms despite the boundaries of space and time; foes are vanquished; steadfast allies and friendships forged.

Most impressive of all is the magnificent Lynn Collins as Dejah Thoris, here realized perhaps even more fully, if it were not blasphemy to say so, than in Burroughs' original stories. Dejah is lovely, yes, but more importantly she is courageous - the true courage of deep fears valiantly overcome. She is also brilliant, wry, passionate and true; but yet she is not perfect, nor overbearing. In order for the story of John Carter to work, for the titular hero to overcome his war-weariness, the film needed to give audiences a cause worth fighting for; and she is surely that. How unfortunate that Disney chose not to give the film its rightful title, A Princess of Mars, for truly this is Dejah's story.

That is not to sully nor minimize the fine work of Taylor Kitsch as the budding warlord of Barsoom, for he is a fine player who any man should wish to see overcome all his challenges, both within and without. Kitsch portrays Carter as a man who has lost his place in the world, but gradually, believably, finds it upon another. Marvellous too are the players - both actors and special effects artists - who bring the valiant and terrible Green Men of Mars to life, the Tharks, four-limbed, tusked warriors for whom compassion is a weakness; but yet the best of them possess it in full measure.

It is said that the best science fiction evokes a Sense of Wonder. John Carter is wondrous indeed, with scope, majesty, beauty and heart that makes the heart race and the spirit soar with awe at all the stories our vast universe might contain. Recapture your youth and see it today.

Dr. David Swann on Health Care

The sincerest and kindest-hearted MLA in the Alberta Legislature describes the problems facing public health care and the Official Opposition's goals for improving it.

Captain Seanmerica

Birthday Books

Inclement weather delayed my birthday celebration, but it was worth the wait. On Saturday my parents and brother presented me with enough Chapters gift cards to pick up a bunch of great books, among them these gems. I was particularly thrilled to finally find all three volumes of the annotated Sherlock Holmes! I look forward to cracking them open this summer, when I'll have a little more time to read (hopefully).

Leaving Leaf Rapids

In March 1979, the Woods family packed up a U-Haul and left our home in Leaf Rapids, Manitoba to embark on the long journey to Edmonton, Alberta. Kelly Bear and Dave Doran, my best friends in Leaf Rapids, showed up just before departure to pose for this farewell photo.

Kelly and I shared a love of Star Wars and Battlestar Galactica; we loved all things science fiction, really. I remember listening to soundtrack and otherwise SF-themed albums over at his place - the trippy Meco disco version of the Star Wars theme, Close Encounters, and even Boney M.'s Night Flight to Venus. Dave and I were both into the Micronauts toys; I remember being jealous of his giant Biotron figure. He was also the first to tell me about the "mirror mirror on the door, I wish my balls would touch the floor" joke - a little ribald for an 8 year old, and I didn't really get it, but of course I laughed like I understood the punchline.

I was pretty devastated when my parents broke the news that we were moving. We were just leaving the Town Centre, the indoor mall that served as Leaf Rapids' community hub. It was dark, and I believe it was Dad who gently informed me of the new situation. I wheeled about in a blind rage and wound up burying my little fists in the midsection of an RCMP officer who'd been walking behind us. He graciously yelped out a "Whoa there!" and returned me to the custody of my parents. Embarrassed, I quieted down, but I was heartbroken. Leaf Rapids was home; all my friends were here, all my secret places were here. It seemed utterly unfair that I had to leave it all behind.

Of course my parents were right to move to Edmonton, with its far vaster spectrum of opportunity. Had they not, I would never have wound up serving as a CBC television host (however briefly) or speechwriter to two Lieutenants-Governor and three Leaders of the Official Opposition. I wouldn't have met my new(er), enduring group of friends, or, most importantly, Sylvia.

Could I have prospered as much or more had we stayed in northern Manitoba? I suspect not. I probably would have attended university in Winnipeg, but if the job situation in the early 90s was bad in Alberta, it must have been worse in Manitoba. It may have taken me even longer to make writing my career. Everything would have been different.

Oddly enough, Dave wound up moving to Leduc not long after we did, and while we met once or twice, the friendship was never rekindled. I ran into Kelly (or Kelvin, as he styles himself now) via ICQ about ten years ago; we chatted briefly to catch up, and I haven't heard from him since. He seemed happy though, working in law enforcement, married with children.

Sometimes I still miss Leaf Rapids, which I suppose is obvious given how often I've written about the place. But in truth, I have few regrets. We learn and grow by taking chances and making hard choices. Mom and Dad did it back in 1979, and I'm grateful. Moving on is important.

New TV Series: Maladroit

For many years now, I've kicked around the idea of developing a sitcom for Paranoid Productions. Unfortunately one of my best ideas runs the risk of offending a lot of people if handled without sensitivity. Actually, let's be realistic; it would be practically impossible to handle a show like this with any sensitivity at all. So let's pretend that the producers are clueless blockheads. Only utter imbeciles could come up with a show like...

Maladroit

Series Bible by 

Earl J. Woods

Ralph Pseudonym

03/12/2012

Our show brings together six very different young people, each with an unusual - but real! - medical condition.

June has alien hand syndrome; her left arm acts against her will without warning.

Bobby is afflicted with blindsight, a condition that robs him of normal vision and yet allows him to avoid obstacles and even projectiles; he "sees" without perceiving that he sees.

Claude has Jumping Frenchmen of Maine. This very rare neurological disorder causes Claude to jump, shriek and flail his limbs wildly when startled.

Sandra has sexsomnia; she frequently has sex while sound asleep.

George has pica, an uncontrollable impulse to snack on glue, paper, soil and other unpalatable materials.

And Lynn suffers from cataplexy; strong emotions such as laughter cause her to pass out.

In our pilot, we learn that these six people have volunteered to serve as subjects for a five-year clinical study for an unnamed Canadian university. In return for a generous living wage, our sextet will live in a spacious three-story house in a quiet, even staid, suburban neighbourhood. Each week, the medical researchers will monitor George, Sandra, Claude, Bobby and June and conduct well meaning (but sometimes sadistic) social experiments on them. How will the Maladroits handle a group grocery shopping trip or a volunteer shift at a casino night? Will friendships or even romances develop among the Maladroits, or will they seek companions outside the group? What happens when they tackle group projects together - preparing Christmas dinner, repairing a leaky roof, getting rid of persistent door-to-door salesmen? How can June and Claude succeed at World of Warcraft given their conditions? What happens when the group goes out to support Bobby at a comedy club's open mike night?

To complicate matters further, it turns out that the scientists in charge didn't conduct enough screening to ensure there would be no serious personality conflicts. George is a practical joker, and takes full advantage of Claude's vulnerability to scares. Lynn enjoys crafting, and has a large supply of glue, paper and other supplies that George finds irresistible. June is a performance artist and dancer and crafts elaborate sets to practice - sets that turn into background running gags for Bobby and his blindsight. Bobby is a failed stand-up comic, always trying his routines on the others, but only Lynn finds him funny - and often passes out from laughter. June, on the other hand, is bisexual - sort of. She identifies as straight, but her alien hand adores sexsomniac Sandra. A touching romance between June's hand and Sandra's unconscious body will form one of the series mytharcs. Ironically, Sandra and June can't stand each other!

Over the course of the first season, our characters will attempt to become a functioning part of their cosmopolitan, multicultural community. Pratfalls and misunderstandings will complicate their efforts to fit in - a sly commentary on the subtle frictions of the cultural mosaic. Every half-dozen episodes or so we'll bring in our "mad" scientists to measure their subjects' progress (look for big-name guest stars for these Very Special Episodes).

While our show is meant to provoke laughs, the series arc challenges viewers to see these "funny" medical conditions in a new light. As the series progresses, we will learn that the scientists have brought these characters together for a greater purpose, and for the first time in television history, with the premiere of season three, our half-hour sitcom will switch formats to an hourlong science-fiction conspiracy theory drama! Once the butt of jokes, our heroes will now be SUPERheroes fighting a millennia-old alien conspiracy that only the combined special abilities of the Maladroits can stop! June's alien hand will take over as mission commander. George's pica will enable him to eat the alien paper-and-glue-technology based weapons. Claude's panic reflexes will inadvertently save him and the group from dangerous situations. Bobby's blindsight will enable him to perceive alien weaknesses. And as for Sandra - it turns out that her sleeping self has some very, very special talents...

Can the Maladroits save their suburb - and ultimately the world - from ancient alien domination? Buy this series and YOU and millions of viewers will find out!

Big Mug of Coke

21st Century Pac-Man

Never Write While Sleep-Deprived

Writers exist in a constant state of embarrassment over their prior work. What felt brilliant in the moment seems trite and overwrought today. We hope it will remain lost and buried, never read again, forgotten. 

Unless, of course, you're a masochist, as many writers are. So tonight I present something angst-ridden 21-year old Earl wrote in the "2 to 6 Club" room on Ron Briscoe's  Freedom BBS. It begins with some truly terrible doggerel, then clumsily evolves - or devolves - into unfocussed stream of consciousness. I have no idea what I was trying to say; maybe I was simply putting random words together to see how they scanned. I must have written it in my dorm room - 139 Kelsey Hall on the University of Alberta campus. I would have used my Atari 520 ST and its accompanying 1200 baud modem, white 40-column text on a blue background. How primitive my once high-tech setup would seem to today's university students!

If I had to guess, I'd say my 21-year-old self was attempting to reconcile his loneliness and pain with his need to believe in a better future and the inherent decency of the human species. Or perhaps it was simply after 4:30 in the morning and he wrote it while half-asleep. Oh look, I've unwittingly started talking about myself in the third person - that seems as good a sign as any to finish this introduction and let my/his words, such as they were, indict themselves: 

91Feb02 4:36 am

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 withers before human
magic and you surrender too...giving in to another twelve hour wait before the
wonder sets in again.

X-Wing Crash

Back in the early 90s, my friends and I used action figures, Fun-Tak and a video camera with a stop-motion feature to make a handful of animated shorts. One day I'll transfer them from VHS to YouTube, but for now, here's a still frame capturing the moment of impact when Luke Skywalker (X-Wing Pilot) crashes into Luke Skywalker (plain version). X-Wing Luke is seen here pitching forward across the nose of the ship, having been flung through the canopy by the impact.

Glimpses of Bitter Litter

A couple of posts ago I mentioned my short film Bitter Litter in passing. I'm certain that the parties involved (Ron, Jeff, Susan and Steven) would punish me should I ever lose my wits and post it on YouTube, but I thought it might be fun to share a few screencaps to give discerning filmgoers an idea of the picture's quality (or lack thereof):

As the mad scientist (Susan) looks on, Basil (Jeff) examines the robot (Steven) with his "brain machine." Shot on location in Susan's apartment!

An angry bystander (Ron) confronts Basil after the robot kills "his brother"/"that man!" (We weren't big on continuity.)

But Basil turns the tables: "I'll strangle you, you fiend! Strangle you!"

But the robot runs amok, killing Basil.

Of all the films we made while members of the University of Alberta Star Trek Club, this was probably the worst - our "Plan 9," if you will. And yet I still look upon it with fondness to match the disgust and repulsion of my cast.

USS Ambassador Dedication Plaque

The latter-day Star Trek shows featured all kinds of sight gags visible only on close inspection or, more frequently, revealed in making-of books. One such gag was the starship dedication plaque, seen on the Enterprise, Voyager, Defiant and other ships. Each plaque (save the simpler design from the original series) featured an inspirational quote of some kind. Many years ago, I wondered what I would put on such a plaque, had I my own starship. Well, as you can see, I decided on a lyric from the great Blues Image song "Ride Captain Ride." It seemed perfectly suited to a ship meant for exploring the stars.

While I'm happy with my choice of quotes, I'm less thrilled with my early graphic design work. The text is clearly cramped and off-centre, and the image is incredibly low-rez. No need to "click to embiggen" this time; this is as good as it gets.

The New Paranoid Productions

Back in university, when I still had a few delusions of grandeur left, I tagged a lot of my creative work with the Paranoid Productions label, my imaginary multimedia conglomerate. My friend Jeff even designed an elaborate 3D logo on his Amiga, which I later bastardized into a simpler 2D version, seen at left. Together, my friends and I in the University of Alberta Star Trek Club shot about a half-dozen short films on videotape, including Generous Nature, My Love is a Red, Red Spy,  Carrion Christmas and the infamous Bitter Litter, among others.

I never seriously pursued my idle dreams of being a filmmaker, pursuing a writing career instead. But from time to time I enjoy imagining what kinds of films I would make were Paranoid Productions real and, more importantly, I were rich enough not to care whether my films succeeded or failed at the box office. Given those circumstances, what kinds of films would I choose to make?

The War of the Worlds
While I enjoy both the George Pal and Steven Spielberg takes on H.G. Wells' classic story, I would love to see more faithful adaptation of the novel - one set in the United Kingdom in the late 19th century, with tripods fighting the Thunderchild and all the original themes of the novel intact.

Deepsix
Jack McDevitt's 2001 science fiction novel about a scientific expedition to a world about to collide with another planet features a sping-tingling orbital rescue that would provide heart-pounding thrills on the big screen. I was on the edge of my seat reading the text alone; the right director could probably induce near-heart attacks.

Cowboys Versus Skeletons
Long before Cowboys and Aliens was published, let alone adapted into a mediocre film, I imagined a simple shoot-em-up between the residents of a frontier town and a horde of skeletons. Rather than weigh down the film with a complex plot, my story would be (forgive me) bare-bones: it's an ordinary sunny day in Rodeo Gulch when suddenly a lone rider thunders into town on his exhausted horse screaming "Skeletons a-comin'!" There are a few words of skepticism, but in order to cut right to the good stuff, the sheriff decides to take the lone rider at his word and the town sets up defences. What follows is 90 minutes of over-the-top action as cowboys (and lawmen, outlaws, hookers-with-hearts-of-gold, gamblers, railway workers, miners, farmers, spunky children, Indians, sidekicks and smarter-than-average horses and dogs) shoot, dynamite, axe, hammer, trap, trick, fistfight and otherwise murderize the rambling skeletons.

Pratfall Thursday
This violent, virtually plotless farce would chronicle one very bad day in a generic North American city. As soon as the opening title fades from the screen, the movie is nothing but a full two hours of painful (but not deadly) accidents, one leading to another. It might begin with a man on a balcony accidentally dropping a coconut that bounces off the skull of a pedestrian passing below, who, dazed, overturns a garbage can, which rolls downhill to knock over the ladder of a man painting a wall, who of course drops his paint can to land on the head of another passerby, who, paint can on his head, stumbles blindly into a fruit stand, which sends apples and bananas and oranges tumbling down the street, which causes multiple car accidents, etc. etc.

Toilet Chase
The original Paranoid team started making this way back in 1992, but we only finished one scene.With the resources of this hypothetical, we could buy the Bleak House of Blahs, reassemble the cast, get facelifts and personal trainers to get us back into our twenty-something bodies AND shoot the film with state of the art special effects. I think our original screenplay is actually pretty funny, and what discerning film-goer wouldn't go see a movie about a killer toilet stalking a half-dozen friends in a spooky house?

I, Robot
Decades ago Harlan Ellison adapted Isaac Asimov's robot stories into an amazing screenplay. I'd pay Harlan handsomely for the rights, allow him to pick the director and give him creative control over the final cut - anything to get it made.

Girls with Guns
Years ago Leslie and I briefly worked on a novel together about a dystopian future in which a group of women find themselves forced into violent revolution. We only produced a few pages of work, but again, with all the hypothetical resources at my command, I'm sure I could bribe Leslie into finishing her half of the story, bribe myself (or maybe Tom Stoppard) into finishing my half, and pay Quentin Tarantino to direct.

Shadow People
For years I've threatened to write a book about the secret lives of the Shadow People, those unfortunate silhouettes who appear on danger signs around the world, usually in the act of being electrocuted, chopped, spindled, folded or mutilated by machinery. What if the Shadow People came to life and sought revenge on the graphic artists and OHSA officials who consigned them to their gruesome fates? Imagine the irony and horror as the silent, expressionless Shadow People force human beings to take their place in the dangerous situations depicted on those threatening signs!

Numbskullduggery
In this slapstick comedy, two wealthy but bored imbeciles decide to divert themselves by planning the perfect murder at a posh dinner party. Unfortunately, because they are imbeciles, their plans go awry and the film becomes a slapstick comedy of errors culimating in the numbskulls' own ironic demise. I'd hire someone smarter than me to write this in order to have a shot on Oscar night; maybe he or she could turn it into a metaphor for the Occupy movement.


Legion of Super-Heroes
A popular DC Comics team for the last few decades, Legion of Super-Heroes would be pretty much impossible to film today. It features a cast of dozens, is set in the far future, and every character has a super-power. Many of them are aliens. The budget for makeup, special effects, sets and rights to the various characters would break the bank of any studio. But hey, it's my hypothetical and I have unlimited funds! I'd make sure that every Legionnaire and supporting character had at least a cameo role, even Arm-Fall-Off Boy, Double Header, Estimate Lad, Infectious Lass and Fortress Lad. I'd probably structure the story to include the Legion's first journey to the past to meet with Superboy, and then they'd recruit him to fight off a Dominator/Khund invasion back in their home of the 30th century.

That slate of projects should keep Paranoid Productions busy for a few years!

Better Background Blues

Blogger comes with a set of fairly nice design templates, but I've long wanted to personalize my blog with a unique background of my own creation. I thought perhaps this photo I shot in Dawson City would serve, but the composition is all wrong. I also haven't determined the correct size (in pixels) for a proper background image. And there's an ugly halo around the building edge, making it obvious the starry background isn't real.

On the other hand, the black window panels form a wonderful background for text or art; maybe this image is better suited to serve as a flyer or poster. If I had a need for flyers or posters with me on them, that is. Insert pensive emoticon here!

Indefensible

Yesterday, Albertans learned that Dunvegan-Central Peace MLA and former cabinet minister Hector Goudreau wrote a threatening letter to Betty Turpin, superintendent of the Holy Family Catholic Regional School Division. Folks who watch the news might remember that school division was advocating pretty hard for a new school in Grimshaw, since their current school is pretty much falling apart. They weren't getting any traction from government, so they shot a video showing the poor condition of the school and sent it to the media, which annoyed the government.

Goudreau (who as an MLA should be sticking up for his constituents, including Turpin and the students she serves) reacted incredibly poorly, writing "In order for your community to have the opportunity to receive a new school, you and your school board will have to be very diplomatic from here on out." He also writes "I advise you to be cautious as to how you approach future communications as your comments could be upsetting to some individuals. This could delay the decision on a new school."

Since starting work for the Official Opposition a little over six years ago, Alberta Liberal MLAs have told me many stories about the level of fear felt by school trustees, municipal elected officials and other public servants. People don't want to speak out against the PC government because doing so puts their jobs, and their funding for community projects, at risk.

While I believed what my bosses were telling me, I don't think it ever felt truly real until I saw Goudreau's letter, in stark black and white. This attitude of entitlement is absolutely unacceptable, and I am deeply offended that any government member would so blatantly threaten a citizen. Even if I were a Progressive Conservative partisan, this would deeply embarrass me - not because a PC MLA was caught doing something bad, but because my government had grown so entitled and sure of itself that its representatives see no problem with bullying citizens.

In today's Edmonton Journal and Calgary Herald, Graham Thomson and Don Braid capture the importance of the story better than I ever could. I hope you read both columns and keep them in mind when you cast your vote later this spring.

Star Trek Door Chimes!

Today my official Star Trek door chimes arrived from Think Geek! I bought three - one for the entrance to my office, one for the theatre room, and one for the library. When you walk past, the chimes make the characteristic "swoosh" sound heard whenever Kirk, Spock or the others went over the threshold of their context-sensitive doors.

They can also be set to sound Red Alert when intruders intrude.

Sylvia was thrilled to see that I've finally decorated the basement.

At least I think she's thrilled...