The blood is the life
For some reason it tickles my sense of irony to donate blood on Halloween. I'd had the reminder card saying I could come back in again any time after Monday and since they were open tonight I decided it would be amusing to put a different spin on Halloween's bloody reputation and so instead of seeking out tender virgin necks to bite into I donated some of my own red stuff (which comes complete with a peaty aftertaste due to the single malts) on the way home from work. I even got a nice nurse wearing kitty ears draining my vital essences (I'm talking about my blood, get your minds out of the gutter, you filthy lot - yes, Lili, I'm looking at you...)
Tuesday, October 31, 2006
Time lapse drawing
Found this lovely time lapse creation of an insect being drawn via Boing Boing; it is almost like animation:
Found this lovely time lapse creation of an insect being drawn via Boing Boing; it is almost like animation:
Happy Halloween
Happy Halloween and a jolly Sahmain to you all. The clocks have been turned back for winter , the long dark nights have fallen and a chill, northern wind stirs through the bare branches and rustles the fallen leaves. What is that at your window pane? The scratching of tree limbs moving in the night breeze like the fingers of a skeleton? The cat with glowing eyes wanting to re-enter the sanctity of the home? Or something else wishing to leave the chill of winter's dark night for the warmth and light of your home... or your body... or your soul... Don't worry, my friends, it's just me. Don't mind my big eyes, the better to see you with. Don't mind my big fingers, the better to blog you with. Don't mind those big, sharp virtual teeth I'm licking my tongue across, all the better to sink into your soft, tasty virtual presence with.... Happy Halloween!
In Halloween news the BBC reports that the same cinema in England had to call out the ambulance service three times in one evening for scaredy cats fainting at Saw III. Honestly, you'd think some people had never seen dismemberment before... Assuming, of course, that the reports are genuine and not some covert publicity stunt for the movie (if so they have annoyed the ambulance services who have other, more important tasks on a busy Friday than attending to a bunch of jessies). Still, for a Halloween treat why not pay a visit to the site of Flying Monkey Comics, one of the British small comics presses I deal with at FPI (where you can get their Hope for the Future graphic novels); Simon from Flying Monkey sent me this link today of a great little animated zombie musical specially for the season.
Happy Halloween and a jolly Sahmain to you all. The clocks have been turned back for winter , the long dark nights have fallen and a chill, northern wind stirs through the bare branches and rustles the fallen leaves. What is that at your window pane? The scratching of tree limbs moving in the night breeze like the fingers of a skeleton? The cat with glowing eyes wanting to re-enter the sanctity of the home? Or something else wishing to leave the chill of winter's dark night for the warmth and light of your home... or your body... or your soul... Don't worry, my friends, it's just me. Don't mind my big eyes, the better to see you with. Don't mind my big fingers, the better to blog you with. Don't mind those big, sharp virtual teeth I'm licking my tongue across, all the better to sink into your soft, tasty virtual presence with.... Happy Halloween!
In Halloween news the BBC reports that the same cinema in England had to call out the ambulance service three times in one evening for scaredy cats fainting at Saw III. Honestly, you'd think some people had never seen dismemberment before... Assuming, of course, that the reports are genuine and not some covert publicity stunt for the movie (if so they have annoyed the ambulance services who have other, more important tasks on a busy Friday than attending to a bunch of jessies). Still, for a Halloween treat why not pay a visit to the site of Flying Monkey Comics, one of the British small comics presses I deal with at FPI (where you can get their Hope for the Future graphic novels); Simon from Flying Monkey sent me this link today of a great little animated zombie musical specially for the season.
Monday, October 30, 2006
Saturday, October 28, 2006
Sad news
One of my friends passed on some bad news this week, one of the publisher's reps I dealt with for many years has been ill recently and sadly tests have shown cancer spreading. It's inoperable and the only care that can be given is to try and make him comfortable as the inevitable bears down. It's a horrid thought and I hate to imagine what his family are going through, because basically they are in pretty much the same situation my family was in this time last year, facing the Christmas period knowing someone we loved was slipping away from us and there was nothing anyone could do. He was offered a very good early retirment package just the other year (one other rep I've known for years observed yesterday how jealous he was of his good fortune at the time, it just makes it all the more bitter because he should be kicking back and relaxing).
For those who don't know, the publisher's reps are the primary contact between booksellers in the stores and the publishers. I've dealt with all sorts in my years in the book trade; a few were annoying or simply just doing a job of work, but most, like many booksellers, do it because they care about books and because they enjoy interacting with people. This particular rep (I won't name him, it wouldn't be fair) is one we all enjoyed seeing - nice guy, good booklist, heplful and always cheerful. Even when things descended into the soulless mediocrity of the Dilbert-style corporate mentality he was a bright spot when he came in; you'd do business, sure, but you'd enjoy it, have a chat, share jokes. He's a guy people looked forward to seeing. This comes quite soon after hearing a former colleague, only a few years older than me, passed away after a serious illness. I hate, hate, hate bad things happening to good people. I know, it's life and life and death are rarely fair, but that doesn't mean we have to like it or accept it, even if we do, sadly, have to deal with it.
One of my friends passed on some bad news this week, one of the publisher's reps I dealt with for many years has been ill recently and sadly tests have shown cancer spreading. It's inoperable and the only care that can be given is to try and make him comfortable as the inevitable bears down. It's a horrid thought and I hate to imagine what his family are going through, because basically they are in pretty much the same situation my family was in this time last year, facing the Christmas period knowing someone we loved was slipping away from us and there was nothing anyone could do. He was offered a very good early retirment package just the other year (one other rep I've known for years observed yesterday how jealous he was of his good fortune at the time, it just makes it all the more bitter because he should be kicking back and relaxing).
For those who don't know, the publisher's reps are the primary contact between booksellers in the stores and the publishers. I've dealt with all sorts in my years in the book trade; a few were annoying or simply just doing a job of work, but most, like many booksellers, do it because they care about books and because they enjoy interacting with people. This particular rep (I won't name him, it wouldn't be fair) is one we all enjoyed seeing - nice guy, good booklist, heplful and always cheerful. Even when things descended into the soulless mediocrity of the Dilbert-style corporate mentality he was a bright spot when he came in; you'd do business, sure, but you'd enjoy it, have a chat, share jokes. He's a guy people looked forward to seeing. This comes quite soon after hearing a former colleague, only a few years older than me, passed away after a serious illness. I hate, hate, hate bad things happening to good people. I know, it's life and life and death are rarely fair, but that doesn't mean we have to like it or accept it, even if we do, sadly, have to deal with it.
Thursday, October 26, 2006
Another angle to the veil debate
These despicable utterings of a senior Muslim cleric in Australia show another angle to the debate about women wearing the veil, not because it is an explicit commandment in the Koran but because of misogynistic males who project their own sexual inadequacies onto women to inflate their own sense of power and importance. He says that women who are dressed provocatively (and Lord knows what this twonk thinks is provocative) are like "uncovered meat" and that they invited sexual assault. Yes, it's that particularly vile "she was asking for it" excuse, hear being read out by a supposedly religious man. I wonder how he would feel if a bunch of racist bigots beat the crap out of him and used the excuse that since he was dressed Muslim fashion in a mostly white country he "was asking for it"? Pretty feeble excuse for anything, isn't it?
He has since apologised and given the old "I was taken out of context" excuse. Now I know it is possible for people to be quoted out of context by the media, but in this case I don't believe this evil old sod for a moment for one simple reason: look at that phrase he used to describe women who were not covered up to his level of satisfaction, "uncovered meat". Now to me that clearly infers that he thinks of all women as meat, the difference being the nice obedient ones who cover themselves head to foot to keep him and other foolish men happy (and alas the women are so brainwashed many think they do this for themselves, the Islamic version of Stockholm Syndrome perhaps) are 'covered meat'. He can protest all he wants about being misinterpreted, but that's the logical assumption of using that phrase "uncovered meat". The fact he also said if the women had been wearing a veil or had stayed in their home they wouldn't be sexually assaulted (except by male relatives) tends to confirm this.
This tosser should be stripped naked, bent over a motorbike and paraded through Sydney with a big honour guard of the city's Dykes on Bikes who would take it in turn to shove large marrows up his arse. Sideways. Scary to think that in less civilised parts of the world than Australia men like this have actual legal powers because their countries still allow religious dogma a place in their medieval judicial systems. All the more reason not just to denounce him in democratic countries but to humiliate the smegger.
These despicable utterings of a senior Muslim cleric in Australia show another angle to the debate about women wearing the veil, not because it is an explicit commandment in the Koran but because of misogynistic males who project their own sexual inadequacies onto women to inflate their own sense of power and importance. He says that women who are dressed provocatively (and Lord knows what this twonk thinks is provocative) are like "uncovered meat" and that they invited sexual assault. Yes, it's that particularly vile "she was asking for it" excuse, hear being read out by a supposedly religious man. I wonder how he would feel if a bunch of racist bigots beat the crap out of him and used the excuse that since he was dressed Muslim fashion in a mostly white country he "was asking for it"? Pretty feeble excuse for anything, isn't it?
He has since apologised and given the old "I was taken out of context" excuse. Now I know it is possible for people to be quoted out of context by the media, but in this case I don't believe this evil old sod for a moment for one simple reason: look at that phrase he used to describe women who were not covered up to his level of satisfaction, "uncovered meat". Now to me that clearly infers that he thinks of all women as meat, the difference being the nice obedient ones who cover themselves head to foot to keep him and other foolish men happy (and alas the women are so brainwashed many think they do this for themselves, the Islamic version of Stockholm Syndrome perhaps) are 'covered meat'. He can protest all he wants about being misinterpreted, but that's the logical assumption of using that phrase "uncovered meat". The fact he also said if the women had been wearing a veil or had stayed in their home they wouldn't be sexually assaulted (except by male relatives) tends to confirm this.
This tosser should be stripped naked, bent over a motorbike and paraded through Sydney with a big honour guard of the city's Dykes on Bikes who would take it in turn to shove large marrows up his arse. Sideways. Scary to think that in less civilised parts of the world than Australia men like this have actual legal powers because their countries still allow religious dogma a place in their medieval judicial systems. All the more reason not just to denounce him in democratic countries but to humiliate the smegger.
Back of a truck
She lifted the monument in her monumental arms
She was the Mother Superior with her carry-on luggage charms
She was this androgynous powder nosed girl next door
She had eaten her dog and she was back for more
Back for more, back for more
Oh she was back for more, some more, yes please, some more
Her gym teacher thought himself a sweat-socked demi-god
And her geraniums thought themselves an alien pod
And her front porch gave way beneath the classified weight
And when an ambulance came they said it’s much too late
Oh it’s much too late, oh it’s much too, much too late
Oh it’s much too late, how late? Very late, too late.
Now the people of New Guinea and the people of L.A.
Have been penpals for years cause they both hate ballet
Only the pandas and bears have made a clean get away
But the news bulletin claims it is gonna be okay
Now Miss Lucy had a sweat shop where the immigrants work
Problem was they all turned to pumpkins at the 12 o’clock stroke
Promptly confiscated by police precinct number X
That was when alien geraniums entered into a fight
No violence, of course, no violence, no violence, of course
Hey no violence, of course, of course, why yes, of course
I mean, I mean, of course, why yes, of…of course
Here the story gets hazy and the hair gets too long
And the T.V. gets quiet as I hear a real bad song
The mothers get whiskey and the girlfriends get tongue
And there’s a back of a truck selling smoke free lungs
And there’s a back of a truck selling alien pods
And there’s a back of a truck selling game show hosts
And there’s a back of a truck selling the souls of the dead
And there’s a back of a truck selling crumb free bread
This is New York!
Now there’s a back of a truck selling the back of a car
And there’s a back of a car selling road way maps
And there are road way maps selling a back of a head
Hey how much for that back of a head, man?
Hey wait a minute, hey wait a minute
Wait a minute that’s…wait a minute that’s my back of a head
Hey you can’t sell that, man, that’s my back of a head
Hey, hey sell it back to me, man, sell it back to me
Hey it’s, it’s my m-m-m-m-m-m-mine
She lifted the monument in her monumental arms
She was the Mother Superior with her carry-on luggage charms
She was this androgynous powder nosed girl next door
She had eaten her dog and she was back for more
She had eaten her dog, D-O-W-G
She had eaten a dog, d-d-dog, d-d-dog, dog, dog, dog
She had eaten a…eaten a…eaten…eaten her…ooooh
Mmmmmm…mmmm…mmm
Ohhhh…ohhh….ohhhh
Ooooh….ooooooh…ooooh
Some more, yes please, some more
Some more, yes please, some more
Back of a Truck, Regina Spektor
I like Regina Spektor; she has a fantastic voice, seems to be madder than a hedgehog on a unicycle and her name makes her sound like a 60s James Bond villain.
She lifted the monument in her monumental arms
She was the Mother Superior with her carry-on luggage charms
She was this androgynous powder nosed girl next door
She had eaten her dog and she was back for more
Back for more, back for more
Oh she was back for more, some more, yes please, some more
Her gym teacher thought himself a sweat-socked demi-god
And her geraniums thought themselves an alien pod
And her front porch gave way beneath the classified weight
And when an ambulance came they said it’s much too late
Oh it’s much too late, oh it’s much too, much too late
Oh it’s much too late, how late? Very late, too late.
Now the people of New Guinea and the people of L.A.
Have been penpals for years cause they both hate ballet
Only the pandas and bears have made a clean get away
But the news bulletin claims it is gonna be okay
Now Miss Lucy had a sweat shop where the immigrants work
Problem was they all turned to pumpkins at the 12 o’clock stroke
Promptly confiscated by police precinct number X
That was when alien geraniums entered into a fight
No violence, of course, no violence, no violence, of course
Hey no violence, of course, of course, why yes, of course
I mean, I mean, of course, why yes, of…of course
Here the story gets hazy and the hair gets too long
And the T.V. gets quiet as I hear a real bad song
The mothers get whiskey and the girlfriends get tongue
And there’s a back of a truck selling smoke free lungs
And there’s a back of a truck selling alien pods
And there’s a back of a truck selling game show hosts
And there’s a back of a truck selling the souls of the dead
And there’s a back of a truck selling crumb free bread
This is New York!
Now there’s a back of a truck selling the back of a car
And there’s a back of a car selling road way maps
And there are road way maps selling a back of a head
Hey how much for that back of a head, man?
Hey wait a minute, hey wait a minute
Wait a minute that’s…wait a minute that’s my back of a head
Hey you can’t sell that, man, that’s my back of a head
Hey, hey sell it back to me, man, sell it back to me
Hey it’s, it’s my m-m-m-m-m-m-mine
She lifted the monument in her monumental arms
She was the Mother Superior with her carry-on luggage charms
She was this androgynous powder nosed girl next door
She had eaten her dog and she was back for more
She had eaten her dog, D-O-W-G
She had eaten a dog, d-d-dog, d-d-dog, dog, dog, dog
She had eaten a…eaten a…eaten…eaten her…ooooh
Mmmmmm…mmmm…mmm
Ohhhh…ohhh….ohhhh
Ooooh….ooooooh…ooooh
Some more, yes please, some more
Some more, yes please, some more
Back of a Truck, Regina Spektor
I like Regina Spektor; she has a fantastic voice, seems to be madder than a hedgehog on a unicycle and her name makes her sound like a 60s James Bond villain.
Tuesday, October 24, 2006
Torchwood success
The adult-themed Doctor Who spinoff Torchwood has been a success on the ratings front, according to the BBC, taking their best digital channel audience for a non-sports event. I wasn't totally blown away with the first two episodes, but I did enjoy it; the consensus with folks I know was pretty much the same, that it was good but not fabulous, although everyone thought it had huge potential to develop and looked forward to the next episode (which is pretty close to what the SFX reviewers also said). Captain Jack is back though, and we like Captain Jack! I wonder if his WWII attire will send many students scurrying to Armstrongs in Edinburgh and other second hand emporiums seeking out old RAF greatcoats (which are nice and warm for the winter actually)? And doesn't the actress who plays the Welsh police officer who joins them look a bit like Audrey Tautou with her big eyes? Mmmm.
Being a Russell T Davies operation I ticked off the minutes waiting for the first gay/bisexual/metrosexual moment and naturally they delivered with boy-girl, boy-boy, boy-boy-girl stuff and then girl-girl in the next episode. Surprisingly Captain Jack wasn't involved in any of them (boo!). Speaking in SFX though, John Barrowman who plays Captain Jack (who famously snogged both Billie Piper and Chris Eccleston's Doctor in Doctor Who) gave out a great line when asked if he had done anything in the new series that was perhaps too risque and he wouldn't want his mother to see: "nope. My mum pushed me out of her vagina, wiped my butt as a kid, seen my willy, everything, so nope." Brilliant.
Good show though, some nice moments (alien entity taking over people, sure, seen that many times, but usually not alien entity which uses host for fatal sex because it is an orgy junkie leading to a climax - sorry - in a sperm donor clinic), terrific secret lair set (liked the flying pterosaur, a nod to the old Pertwee-era Invasion of the Dinosaurs perhaps?) and some nice hints about Jack's mysterious background, how his resurrection by Rose after he was killed has affected him and questions about how he got from the future back to the 21st century and why he's running Torchwood. Despite the fact the idea of Torchwood could throw some spanners in the continuity works for the older series (where the hell were they when the Doc and UNIT were defending against countless alien invasions for example?) I think this is going to be pretty good.
The adult-themed Doctor Who spinoff Torchwood has been a success on the ratings front, according to the BBC, taking their best digital channel audience for a non-sports event. I wasn't totally blown away with the first two episodes, but I did enjoy it; the consensus with folks I know was pretty much the same, that it was good but not fabulous, although everyone thought it had huge potential to develop and looked forward to the next episode (which is pretty close to what the SFX reviewers also said). Captain Jack is back though, and we like Captain Jack! I wonder if his WWII attire will send many students scurrying to Armstrongs in Edinburgh and other second hand emporiums seeking out old RAF greatcoats (which are nice and warm for the winter actually)? And doesn't the actress who plays the Welsh police officer who joins them look a bit like Audrey Tautou with her big eyes? Mmmm.
Being a Russell T Davies operation I ticked off the minutes waiting for the first gay/bisexual/metrosexual moment and naturally they delivered with boy-girl, boy-boy, boy-boy-girl stuff and then girl-girl in the next episode. Surprisingly Captain Jack wasn't involved in any of them (boo!). Speaking in SFX though, John Barrowman who plays Captain Jack (who famously snogged both Billie Piper and Chris Eccleston's Doctor in Doctor Who) gave out a great line when asked if he had done anything in the new series that was perhaps too risque and he wouldn't want his mother to see: "nope. My mum pushed me out of her vagina, wiped my butt as a kid, seen my willy, everything, so nope." Brilliant.
Good show though, some nice moments (alien entity taking over people, sure, seen that many times, but usually not alien entity which uses host for fatal sex because it is an orgy junkie leading to a climax - sorry - in a sperm donor clinic), terrific secret lair set (liked the flying pterosaur, a nod to the old Pertwee-era Invasion of the Dinosaurs perhaps?) and some nice hints about Jack's mysterious background, how his resurrection by Rose after he was killed has affected him and questions about how he got from the future back to the 21st century and why he's running Torchwood. Despite the fact the idea of Torchwood could throw some spanners in the continuity works for the older series (where the hell were they when the Doc and UNIT were defending against countless alien invasions for example?) I think this is going to be pretty good.
Monday, October 23, 2006
Saturday, October 21, 2006
American strategy
Even the Republican party reptiles, with elections breathing down their necks, are now saying that perhaps Dubyah should reconsider American stratgey in Iraq as US forces deaths reach an all-time high (although still peanuts compared to the civilian deaths, but, hey, most voters don't care about that too much) and rather than a shiny Western-style democracy we have sectarian violence a thousand times worse than that seen at the Rangers-Celtic derby match. All of this has come as a surprise to many osbervers who didn't actually realise the American government had any strategy at all. Still, it is funny to see Republicans, cacking themselves over losing at the upcoming elections, often avoiding talking about the war while Democrats bring it up all the time, something of a reversal from previous elections where defending American from terrorism by invading countries unconnected with 9-11 was seen as incredibly patriotic and any foolish opponent who tried to criticise was hounded by spin and sleaze merchants as Bin-Laden-loving communist gay child molesting anti-American cowards. It would all be immensely amusing if this bad joke didn't come with a body count.
Even the Republican party reptiles, with elections breathing down their necks, are now saying that perhaps Dubyah should reconsider American stratgey in Iraq as US forces deaths reach an all-time high (although still peanuts compared to the civilian deaths, but, hey, most voters don't care about that too much) and rather than a shiny Western-style democracy we have sectarian violence a thousand times worse than that seen at the Rangers-Celtic derby match. All of this has come as a surprise to many osbervers who didn't actually realise the American government had any strategy at all. Still, it is funny to see Republicans, cacking themselves over losing at the upcoming elections, often avoiding talking about the war while Democrats bring it up all the time, something of a reversal from previous elections where defending American from terrorism by invading countries unconnected with 9-11 was seen as incredibly patriotic and any foolish opponent who tried to criticise was hounded by spin and sleaze merchants as Bin-Laden-loving communist gay child molesting anti-American cowards. It would all be immensely amusing if this bad joke didn't come with a body count.
Forget the Hood
Despite my better judgement I decided I would give the somewhat underwhelming new Robin Hood one more go this week, mostly because I'd heard this third episode was one of Paul Cornell's and I usually like his work. I should have stuck with my original instincts; a mere twenty minutes into this third episode and I turned off in disgust. Lazy modern phrases like 'locking down the Castle' and 'we're going to win hearts and minds' were so dreadfully out of place; sure, make the tale more palatable to a contemporary audience, but 21st century phrases in a medieval setting is as stupid as the out-of-period costumes - you contemporise by your storytelling, not by slopping in modern phrases, that's just lazy writing. And then as the pantomime Sheriff of Nottingham made a speech he added to the awful 'hearts and minds' speech by uttering a speech about dealing with Robin's 'terrorism'. I mean, come on, that was even more cack handed than previous attempts to liken Robin's experiences to the war in Iraq... Battlestar Galactica manages to be SF yet seriously address contemporary political events, but this nonsense is just laughable. Sorry, guys, but this show is dreadful: totally out of its period, sloppy writing, dire dialogue and cardboard characters, so that's it, I'm abandoning this one. Let's hope Torchwood tomorrow night is a bit better.
Despite my better judgement I decided I would give the somewhat underwhelming new Robin Hood one more go this week, mostly because I'd heard this third episode was one of Paul Cornell's and I usually like his work. I should have stuck with my original instincts; a mere twenty minutes into this third episode and I turned off in disgust. Lazy modern phrases like 'locking down the Castle' and 'we're going to win hearts and minds' were so dreadfully out of place; sure, make the tale more palatable to a contemporary audience, but 21st century phrases in a medieval setting is as stupid as the out-of-period costumes - you contemporise by your storytelling, not by slopping in modern phrases, that's just lazy writing. And then as the pantomime Sheriff of Nottingham made a speech he added to the awful 'hearts and minds' speech by uttering a speech about dealing with Robin's 'terrorism'. I mean, come on, that was even more cack handed than previous attempts to liken Robin's experiences to the war in Iraq... Battlestar Galactica manages to be SF yet seriously address contemporary political events, but this nonsense is just laughable. Sorry, guys, but this show is dreadful: totally out of its period, sloppy writing, dire dialogue and cardboard characters, so that's it, I'm abandoning this one. Let's hope Torchwood tomorrow night is a bit better.
Thursday, October 19, 2006
Am I A) wearing a veil to teach a children's class; B) practising to be an urban Ninja; C) trying out my Captain Caveman costume for Halloween? D) trying to outdo hoody wearing kids for getting thrown out of malls or E) attempting to integrate into Western society? Answers on a postcard (terms and conditions: employees of the Woolamaloo Gazette, neo-Nazis and government ministers are exluded from participating)
Tuesday, October 17, 2006
Memorial photography
Boing Boing has a post and link to a site of Victorian postmortem photographs, also sometimes referred to as memorial photography, which reminded me of a book I have called Sleeping Beauty: Memorial Photography in America by Stanley B Burns, MD (Twelvetrees Press, 1990) which collects such pictures in chronological order from the 19th through to the early 20th century when it began to go out of fashion. Yes, I know what many of you are thinking: A) Joe has been spending too much time round at his Aunt Morticia and Uncle Gomez' house and B) euuggghhhh. That latter reaction is quite telling as is Boing Boing's description of the site as a timely 'creepy' treat for Halloween.
The fact is these pictures were not normally taken for creepy of ghoulish purposes: reading these images that way is a conceit of our contemporary society, which is one where death is normally a taboo subject in a way the people of the 19th century would not understand, being face to face with it on a regular basis far more than we were, not only because of greater mortality but because the structures and services (hospitals, morticians etc) we have were not as widespread then; more people died in their own family home and not hospitals or rest homes. Then again, those people would have been shocked by how openly we talk about sex today - such is the nature of changing societal norms. Take this from Burns' introduction to Sleeping Beauty:
"Postmortem photography, photographing a deceased person, was a common practise in the nineteenth and early twentieth centuries. These photographs were often the only ones taken of their subjects and much pride and artistry went into them. It is astounding that although post-mortem photographs make up the largest group of nineteenth century American genre photographs, they are largely unseen and unknown."
He also goes on to note that the 19th century was the first to have access to photography; suddenly ordinary people could have portraits of their loved ones recorded for posterity. Something we wouldn't think twice about today, surrounded as we are by cameras and images, but a revolution then. For many the only photograph taken of them may well be after death, especially for young children in a time of high infant mortality, which is why some of the children's pictures in this book have been lovingly hand-tinted, adding in a blush of pink cheek to a silvery, black and white image to counterfeit life and make it look like the infant was simply sleeping, often with a living sibling or parent lying next to them (some are quite convincing). They were, in other words, often a desperate act of love and respect, from children through to memorial photographs of Abraham Lincoln. Some of the other pictures, such as 'trophy' pictures of gunned down outlaws in the Old West propped up next to the posse who brought them down are perhaps rather more exploitative (and possibly were back then too), but again would not have been seen as ghoulish.
I suppose it is one of those examples not only of how the subjects Western society will openly discuss changes over time but also how our interpretation of something changes over time. They say the camera doesn't lie, but the photograph, like every other medium, relies on the person viewing it to interpret it through the filters of their aesthetic senses, experiences, their society and beliefs and this is a classic example of how the same unchanging black and white image, light and shadow fixed for eternity on silvered glass or paper, still can change depending on the viewer and the time.
Boing Boing has a post and link to a site of Victorian postmortem photographs, also sometimes referred to as memorial photography, which reminded me of a book I have called Sleeping Beauty: Memorial Photography in America by Stanley B Burns, MD (Twelvetrees Press, 1990) which collects such pictures in chronological order from the 19th through to the early 20th century when it began to go out of fashion. Yes, I know what many of you are thinking: A) Joe has been spending too much time round at his Aunt Morticia and Uncle Gomez' house and B) euuggghhhh. That latter reaction is quite telling as is Boing Boing's description of the site as a timely 'creepy' treat for Halloween.
The fact is these pictures were not normally taken for creepy of ghoulish purposes: reading these images that way is a conceit of our contemporary society, which is one where death is normally a taboo subject in a way the people of the 19th century would not understand, being face to face with it on a regular basis far more than we were, not only because of greater mortality but because the structures and services (hospitals, morticians etc) we have were not as widespread then; more people died in their own family home and not hospitals or rest homes. Then again, those people would have been shocked by how openly we talk about sex today - such is the nature of changing societal norms. Take this from Burns' introduction to Sleeping Beauty:
"Postmortem photography, photographing a deceased person, was a common practise in the nineteenth and early twentieth centuries. These photographs were often the only ones taken of their subjects and much pride and artistry went into them. It is astounding that although post-mortem photographs make up the largest group of nineteenth century American genre photographs, they are largely unseen and unknown."
He also goes on to note that the 19th century was the first to have access to photography; suddenly ordinary people could have portraits of their loved ones recorded for posterity. Something we wouldn't think twice about today, surrounded as we are by cameras and images, but a revolution then. For many the only photograph taken of them may well be after death, especially for young children in a time of high infant mortality, which is why some of the children's pictures in this book have been lovingly hand-tinted, adding in a blush of pink cheek to a silvery, black and white image to counterfeit life and make it look like the infant was simply sleeping, often with a living sibling or parent lying next to them (some are quite convincing). They were, in other words, often a desperate act of love and respect, from children through to memorial photographs of Abraham Lincoln. Some of the other pictures, such as 'trophy' pictures of gunned down outlaws in the Old West propped up next to the posse who brought them down are perhaps rather more exploitative (and possibly were back then too), but again would not have been seen as ghoulish.
I suppose it is one of those examples not only of how the subjects Western society will openly discuss changes over time but also how our interpretation of something changes over time. They say the camera doesn't lie, but the photograph, like every other medium, relies on the person viewing it to interpret it through the filters of their aesthetic senses, experiences, their society and beliefs and this is a classic example of how the same unchanging black and white image, light and shadow fixed for eternity on silvered glass or paper, still can change depending on the viewer and the time.
Daleks and Red Dwarf
A friend sent me a link to this YouTube video of what Daleks think of Red Dwarf, which is priceless:
A friend sent me a link to this YouTube video of what Daleks think of Red Dwarf, which is priceless:
Monday, October 16, 2006
That veil debate
As the debate goes on about Muslim women wearing veils or not B3TA offered their take (and yes, I am aware that this gag is innacurate since Charlie Brown and Linus were in different classes being different ages (and no-one calls him 'Charlie' always 'Charlie Brown'):
As the debate goes on about Muslim women wearing veils or not B3TA offered their take (and yes, I am aware that this gag is innacurate since Charlie Brown and Linus were in different classes being different ages (and no-one calls him 'Charlie' always 'Charlie Brown'):
Sunday, October 15, 2006
The new Caley Sample Room
Hurrah! You might remember me and my drouthie cronie Gordon being more than a little worried that our favourite local pub, the Caledonian Sample Room (right along the road from the award-winning Caledenian Brewery near my flat, the finest brewery in the known universe) was in danger of shutting down. Then we heard from one of the barmaids who is used to seeing our drunken arses in there that it had been bought out and was closing down to refurbish. Well, it re-opened this weekend and Gordon and I trotted in for a couple of pints to check it out. Okay, a couple of couples... But yes, it is re-opened, repainted, repainted (still smelling faintly of fresh paint actually), new chairs (including some battered old leather armchairs which we settled into and just know are perfect for relaxing in over the coming winter while drinking Caley 80 and talking cobblers) a big food and wine menu added (hey, we may now get Mel to accompany us to it - she was never a fan before).
But it is still the Caley, still has the award winning ales from just along the road. Although the new barmaid didn't understand what I was asking for when I ordered two pints of 80, which in the Caley Sample, home of the Caley brewery ales, is a bit daft (both I and the regualr barman had to point out the requisite pump to her, and I could insert a rude joke about pumping and blonde barmaid here, but you will notice I am not, such is my maturity these days...). Anyway, couple of hours relaxing in comfy armchairs with chesnut-coloured 80 shilling ale being quaffed and shooting the breeze... Ahhhhh, we've come home... In a world gone mad with invasions, unlicensed nuclear weapons (as opposed to the safe, regulated ones we civilised nations have) and teachers in veils wondering why people think WTF we had our little space of relaxation and peace... Feck it, stick Kim Jung shortarse in there with Dubyah and a few pints of Caley and 4 hours later instead of arguing they'd be happy, drunk and telling each other how they were their best mate. That's my attempt at international diplomacy; it may not be sophisticated but it ain't as lame as the type our overpaid representatives are managing, is it? Worth a shot...
Hurrah! You might remember me and my drouthie cronie Gordon being more than a little worried that our favourite local pub, the Caledonian Sample Room (right along the road from the award-winning Caledenian Brewery near my flat, the finest brewery in the known universe) was in danger of shutting down. Then we heard from one of the barmaids who is used to seeing our drunken arses in there that it had been bought out and was closing down to refurbish. Well, it re-opened this weekend and Gordon and I trotted in for a couple of pints to check it out. Okay, a couple of couples... But yes, it is re-opened, repainted, repainted (still smelling faintly of fresh paint actually), new chairs (including some battered old leather armchairs which we settled into and just know are perfect for relaxing in over the coming winter while drinking Caley 80 and talking cobblers) a big food and wine menu added (hey, we may now get Mel to accompany us to it - she was never a fan before).
But it is still the Caley, still has the award winning ales from just along the road. Although the new barmaid didn't understand what I was asking for when I ordered two pints of 80, which in the Caley Sample, home of the Caley brewery ales, is a bit daft (both I and the regualr barman had to point out the requisite pump to her, and I could insert a rude joke about pumping and blonde barmaid here, but you will notice I am not, such is my maturity these days...). Anyway, couple of hours relaxing in comfy armchairs with chesnut-coloured 80 shilling ale being quaffed and shooting the breeze... Ahhhhh, we've come home... In a world gone mad with invasions, unlicensed nuclear weapons (as opposed to the safe, regulated ones we civilised nations have) and teachers in veils wondering why people think WTF we had our little space of relaxation and peace... Feck it, stick Kim Jung shortarse in there with Dubyah and a few pints of Caley and 4 hours later instead of arguing they'd be happy, drunk and telling each other how they were their best mate. That's my attempt at international diplomacy; it may not be sophisticated but it ain't as lame as the type our overpaid representatives are managing, is it? Worth a shot...
Saturday, October 14, 2006
Sealcam
The webcams of the Scottish Seabird Centre at North Berwick (where I often go for a good, long beach walk when my mate Gordon takes his dog Bruce there for a hike) also cover the Isle of May in the Forth. The Evening News tonight carried a pic from the webcam for May which showed the very first grey seal pup, recently born, cavorting on the island, which the seals share with some 200, 000 seabirds (including 100, 000 puffins, which like the island because it keeps them safe from Jeremy Clarkson). Isn't it nice to see a nice story for once? And this is all happening just half an hour's ride from Edinburgh. You can check out the webcams here.
The webcams of the Scottish Seabird Centre at North Berwick (where I often go for a good, long beach walk when my mate Gordon takes his dog Bruce there for a hike) also cover the Isle of May in the Forth. The Evening News tonight carried a pic from the webcam for May which showed the very first grey seal pup, recently born, cavorting on the island, which the seals share with some 200, 000 seabirds (including 100, 000 puffins, which like the island because it keeps them safe from Jeremy Clarkson). Isn't it nice to see a nice story for once? And this is all happening just half an hour's ride from Edinburgh. You can check out the webcams here.
Absolute Sandman
DC released a book I've been eagerly awaiting and it came out almost a month early: Absolute Sandman Volume 1. If you don't know the Absolute editions are oversized hardbacks on high quality paper (like artbook paper for the reproduction), stuffed with extras, the artwork cleared up to the best quality and then put into a slipcase. It tends to be a treatment reserved for major works such as the Dark Knight Returns or Watchmen or, in this case, Neil Gaiman's Sandman (there will be four volumes eventually); over 600 pages of Gaiman Goodness.
Now I have all of this series in the original comic issue form, but this is so damned gorgeous to hell with the (not inconsiderable) expense, I have to have it. I've read and re-read and re-re-read the Sandman over the last few years, always finding something new in both the storytelling, the style and the art (and the massive, oversized format really lets you enjoy the art). I was in a lull in my love affair with comics when Sandman started; there wasn't that much happening then that was really appealing to me until I picked up a couple of issues of this book I had never heard of. Being someone who not only enjoys good writing but loves the beat of our shared myth and folklore and the way it informs the human condition this was all but made for me; it drew me back into comics again, reminding me that the medium could still delve into new areas. Obviously I wasn't alone because Sandman appealed not only to comics readers but to a far wider audience way beyond the normal comics community, drawing in literary critics and literature professors equally; it not only rekindled my love affair with the medium it drew in new people who realised that there was more to it that spandex and capes (although some creators have crafted some amazing work on that front too).
The literary community agreed, with one of the standalone tales in this first collection, A Midsummer Night's Dream, becoming the first comic to win a World Fantasy award in the short story category. The Bard turned up several times in the 8 or 9 year run of the Sandman (including a lovely piece at the end which followed Shakespeare's final years and the writing of The Tempest mirroring the tale of Dream himself) but this was the first time and saw old Bill and his company travelling through the countryside to perform A Midsummer Night's Dream on the side of a chalk hill on the rolling Downs for Dream and his guests from Faerie; the actors playing Titania, Oberon and Puck watched by the real Titania, Oberon and Puck. Dream has commisioned Shakespeare to write this tale so that humanity will never forget them now that Faerie has left our world for their own realm. At one point Titania, an old friend of Dream's, lean to him and remarks that these events they are watching never actually happened and yet they are still true. Indeed, madam, Dream agrees, events which did not happen can still be true; such is the nature of story and indeed the nature of our shared world mythologies - Gilgamesh need never have happened as recorded on those broken tablets but the events are still, in their fashion, true for every century of reader.
Another short story here, The Dream of a Thousand Cats (cats crop up a lot in the Sandman too), also plays with the way in which our stories and dreams shape the world. A cat, unhappy at the way her owners run her life and decide where her kittens go, now travels the land, addressing meetings of cats wherever she goes in an attempt to change the world. She tells how she had travelled far to find the Great Cat of the Dreaming (Morpheus takes on a different shape and colour depending on who is addressing him; an African person sees a dark skinned man, a white person a pale, tall man, a cat sees a large, black cat with eyes like stars; he is, after all, a Dream) and he told her that the world was not always as it is now. Once upon a time cats were gigantic and human tiny, playthings the cats enjoyed, until one human taught the others to all dream the same dream at the same time. Overnight the world changed to the way we know it now' not only did they change the present they changed they way it had always been. Now she tries to persuade a thousand cats to dream it back, but as one cynical feline observes, there is little change of getting even a handful of cats to do the same thing at the same time. But the basic idea that dreams shape the world (one of Dream's titles is The Shaper) was a powerful one, porobably because it is true. Even the most logical of human activities like science begins with a dream of what a person might do.
The main meat of this collection (the first 20 issues) comprises two main arcs: the introductory tales Preludes and Noctures where Dream is bound by an Aleister Crowley-like magician for decades beginning in 1916, causing chaos (Neil cleverly worked in the world-wide epidemics which followed WWI to the lack of a controlling influence in that very necessary function of humanity). This tale also introduced us to Dream's older sister Death, one of the loveliest characters in comics (and I can't wait till Neil makes his Death movie, he's been talking about it since I first met him way back when Sandman was only part way through) in a rumination on the nature of life and death (and indeed, Death); I never read that chapter without thinking about people I've loved who aren't with us anymore - it's sad but uplifting at the same time.
The superlative Doll's House arc is the second major chapter here though and it is where Sandman, for me, moved from being fascinating and different to being indispensable and moved Neil to the front rank of my favourite scribes. It also provided the first hints that Neil was weaving a tapestry and not just a linear narrative; events and seemingly minor characters would crop up much later (remember in the original monthly comics format this could be years later) with a much more significant role (here one of the post WWI victims of the epidemic sleepy sickness now becomes a key to the events). We see one of Dream other functions, which is the crafting of nightmares as well as dreams with the Corinthian, a nasty nightmare with mouths for eyes who escaped the Dreaming while Dream was incarcerated and inspired the modern serial killers. In fact Neil throws in the wonderful idea of a serial killer's convention (including panels on kidnapping and extortion!).
I can't wait to see the following collections, especially the Season of Mists, where Dream goes to Hell and finds Lucifer is tired of it all and quits and the magnificent Ramadan tale which was done for the 50th issue, an Arabian Nights tale which also managed to incorporate references to the (now first) Gulf War with the mythical Golden Age of Baghdad, complete with flying carpets and other wonders; probably the most beautiful single issue of any comic I have ever read - how amazing the great P Craig Russell's art for that will look in this large format... Sweet dreams, friends.
DC released a book I've been eagerly awaiting and it came out almost a month early: Absolute Sandman Volume 1. If you don't know the Absolute editions are oversized hardbacks on high quality paper (like artbook paper for the reproduction), stuffed with extras, the artwork cleared up to the best quality and then put into a slipcase. It tends to be a treatment reserved for major works such as the Dark Knight Returns or Watchmen or, in this case, Neil Gaiman's Sandman (there will be four volumes eventually); over 600 pages of Gaiman Goodness.
Now I have all of this series in the original comic issue form, but this is so damned gorgeous to hell with the (not inconsiderable) expense, I have to have it. I've read and re-read and re-re-read the Sandman over the last few years, always finding something new in both the storytelling, the style and the art (and the massive, oversized format really lets you enjoy the art). I was in a lull in my love affair with comics when Sandman started; there wasn't that much happening then that was really appealing to me until I picked up a couple of issues of this book I had never heard of. Being someone who not only enjoys good writing but loves the beat of our shared myth and folklore and the way it informs the human condition this was all but made for me; it drew me back into comics again, reminding me that the medium could still delve into new areas. Obviously I wasn't alone because Sandman appealed not only to comics readers but to a far wider audience way beyond the normal comics community, drawing in literary critics and literature professors equally; it not only rekindled my love affair with the medium it drew in new people who realised that there was more to it that spandex and capes (although some creators have crafted some amazing work on that front too).
The literary community agreed, with one of the standalone tales in this first collection, A Midsummer Night's Dream, becoming the first comic to win a World Fantasy award in the short story category. The Bard turned up several times in the 8 or 9 year run of the Sandman (including a lovely piece at the end which followed Shakespeare's final years and the writing of The Tempest mirroring the tale of Dream himself) but this was the first time and saw old Bill and his company travelling through the countryside to perform A Midsummer Night's Dream on the side of a chalk hill on the rolling Downs for Dream and his guests from Faerie; the actors playing Titania, Oberon and Puck watched by the real Titania, Oberon and Puck. Dream has commisioned Shakespeare to write this tale so that humanity will never forget them now that Faerie has left our world for their own realm. At one point Titania, an old friend of Dream's, lean to him and remarks that these events they are watching never actually happened and yet they are still true. Indeed, madam, Dream agrees, events which did not happen can still be true; such is the nature of story and indeed the nature of our shared world mythologies - Gilgamesh need never have happened as recorded on those broken tablets but the events are still, in their fashion, true for every century of reader.
Another short story here, The Dream of a Thousand Cats (cats crop up a lot in the Sandman too), also plays with the way in which our stories and dreams shape the world. A cat, unhappy at the way her owners run her life and decide where her kittens go, now travels the land, addressing meetings of cats wherever she goes in an attempt to change the world. She tells how she had travelled far to find the Great Cat of the Dreaming (Morpheus takes on a different shape and colour depending on who is addressing him; an African person sees a dark skinned man, a white person a pale, tall man, a cat sees a large, black cat with eyes like stars; he is, after all, a Dream) and he told her that the world was not always as it is now. Once upon a time cats were gigantic and human tiny, playthings the cats enjoyed, until one human taught the others to all dream the same dream at the same time. Overnight the world changed to the way we know it now' not only did they change the present they changed they way it had always been. Now she tries to persuade a thousand cats to dream it back, but as one cynical feline observes, there is little change of getting even a handful of cats to do the same thing at the same time. But the basic idea that dreams shape the world (one of Dream's titles is The Shaper) was a powerful one, porobably because it is true. Even the most logical of human activities like science begins with a dream of what a person might do.
The main meat of this collection (the first 20 issues) comprises two main arcs: the introductory tales Preludes and Noctures where Dream is bound by an Aleister Crowley-like magician for decades beginning in 1916, causing chaos (Neil cleverly worked in the world-wide epidemics which followed WWI to the lack of a controlling influence in that very necessary function of humanity). This tale also introduced us to Dream's older sister Death, one of the loveliest characters in comics (and I can't wait till Neil makes his Death movie, he's been talking about it since I first met him way back when Sandman was only part way through) in a rumination on the nature of life and death (and indeed, Death); I never read that chapter without thinking about people I've loved who aren't with us anymore - it's sad but uplifting at the same time.
The superlative Doll's House arc is the second major chapter here though and it is where Sandman, for me, moved from being fascinating and different to being indispensable and moved Neil to the front rank of my favourite scribes. It also provided the first hints that Neil was weaving a tapestry and not just a linear narrative; events and seemingly minor characters would crop up much later (remember in the original monthly comics format this could be years later) with a much more significant role (here one of the post WWI victims of the epidemic sleepy sickness now becomes a key to the events). We see one of Dream other functions, which is the crafting of nightmares as well as dreams with the Corinthian, a nasty nightmare with mouths for eyes who escaped the Dreaming while Dream was incarcerated and inspired the modern serial killers. In fact Neil throws in the wonderful idea of a serial killer's convention (including panels on kidnapping and extortion!).
I can't wait to see the following collections, especially the Season of Mists, where Dream goes to Hell and finds Lucifer is tired of it all and quits and the magnificent Ramadan tale which was done for the 50th issue, an Arabian Nights tale which also managed to incorporate references to the (now first) Gulf War with the mythical Golden Age of Baghdad, complete with flying carpets and other wonders; probably the most beautiful single issue of any comic I have ever read - how amazing the great P Craig Russell's art for that will look in this large format... Sweet dreams, friends.
Robin Hoodie
I was quite underwhelmed by the new Robin Hood's debut last weekend (as were most people I knew) but thought, give it a chance, Paul Cornell was so enthusiastic about it (he is one of the writers) at EasterCon, perhaps it will get better. So the second episode this evening and no, it didn't get any better. The Silvereel lambasts it too; like me he was really wanting it to be a good show (being a fellow swashbuckler) but its been a great disappointment, splashing style instead of building substance and believable characters we can follow and empathise with. Trying this modern style on a piece set back in the time of the Crusades is jarring and destroys any feel for the reality of the period. The costume department, as my mate Ariel observed, are also quite guilty of destroying any feel of period: Guy of Gisborne is wearing a leather duster coat for goodness sake and Robin looks like a modern hoodie while his manservant wears a top which looks rather modern and the Sheriff tonight was seen in bed wearing black silk pyjamas! Do the costume department even know what era this is set in? Does the producer, director or writers? In fact I haven't seen such innapropriate costumes since Coppola's Dracula, although at least in that case the many non-Victorian garments were at least stylish and cool.
The story... Well, so far there hasn't been much in the way of story development in these first two episodes. And despite the pretensions to bring 21st century sensiblities to the tale (because obviously a fokloric tale which has survived for centuries needs to be tampered with by modern writers - go read Joseph Campbell then try tackling this you illiterate idiots) much of Robin Hood is pure, old-fashioned and very cheesy pantomime. That arrow twang every time a location name is flashed on screen became very, very irritating - presumably someone thought it was amusing, but repeated several times an episodes it is just grating (and why does a dram need location names flashed up repeatedly? Talk about destroying any chance of buying into the events). And since archery (of the most ridiculous sort, all very bad speed shots) is a mainstay of Robin Hood using an arrow twang when the place names appear is also quite confusing - did someone fire at someone? Oh, no its just a place name going up. Twang! Ah, ignore it, just another place name... Nope, he did actually fire another arrow; well, actually waste another arrow since Robin fires dozens of them impossibly quick (what happened to the 21st century sense of realism they were going for?) but doesn't usually hit anyone, even the bad guys - the damned thing is bloodless and so watered down it destroys any energy in the fights or any sense of peril.
The pantomime continues; the Sheriff is made to look like a villain from some dreadful East End gangster flick, all shaved head and mono-expression while the jailer/tortuter is, of course, ugly and almost deformed looking. That's just so damned predictable and frankly lazy on the part of the makers, but since everyone else in this mediocre offering is equally dull and lame it probably doesn't matter. It's a shame, I was looking forward to this for some time and the BBC has spent a lot of our money on what turns out to be an attempt to do a serious and stylish HBO-type series but come up instead with a bland and innacurate MTV piece of gloss with no substance. I think I'll stick to my main man, Errol Flynn. Yes, that old technicolor Flynn and Rathbone movie is very silly but it is vastly enjoyable; I don't think I'll bother sticking around for the third episode, I've given it two goes and it failed to grip me. And coming off after reading the first two magnificent Captain Alatriste novels by Spanish author Arturo Perez-Reverte I was so looking forward to more swashbuckling; in fact, if you too are disappointed in this expensive piece of awfulness that is Robon Hood then do yourself a favour -forget it and go and read Alatriste.
Still on the TV front though and I heard about an upcoming TV series based around the Dresden Files novel by Jim Butcher starting in the New Year in the US. If you're not familiar with them, they centre around Harry Dresden, down at heels Chicago PI who also happens to be a wizard (the only one in the phone book "people found, enchantments broken, no love spells"). I knew sod all about them when Orbit released them here last year (several had been out in the US for a while); to catch up with the US Orbit released two a month over three months last autumn. I thought I'd give the first one a go and was damned well hooked so quickly I ended up reading all six back to back and with the outstanding reading list I have waiting for me to get into I don't often just stop everything else to do that. Nice mix of noir mysteries with fantasy and genuine horror in each book but as you go along you realise that not only is Jim building up the other characters and details he is creating an overarching series of linked events in the background which will have consequences as the books evolve. Obviously no idea how the series will pan out, but Jim is said to be happy with what he has seen (then again Paul Cornell seemed happy about the upcoming Robin Hood).
I was quite underwhelmed by the new Robin Hood's debut last weekend (as were most people I knew) but thought, give it a chance, Paul Cornell was so enthusiastic about it (he is one of the writers) at EasterCon, perhaps it will get better. So the second episode this evening and no, it didn't get any better. The Silvereel lambasts it too; like me he was really wanting it to be a good show (being a fellow swashbuckler) but its been a great disappointment, splashing style instead of building substance and believable characters we can follow and empathise with. Trying this modern style on a piece set back in the time of the Crusades is jarring and destroys any feel for the reality of the period. The costume department, as my mate Ariel observed, are also quite guilty of destroying any feel of period: Guy of Gisborne is wearing a leather duster coat for goodness sake and Robin looks like a modern hoodie while his manservant wears a top which looks rather modern and the Sheriff tonight was seen in bed wearing black silk pyjamas! Do the costume department even know what era this is set in? Does the producer, director or writers? In fact I haven't seen such innapropriate costumes since Coppola's Dracula, although at least in that case the many non-Victorian garments were at least stylish and cool.
The story... Well, so far there hasn't been much in the way of story development in these first two episodes. And despite the pretensions to bring 21st century sensiblities to the tale (because obviously a fokloric tale which has survived for centuries needs to be tampered with by modern writers - go read Joseph Campbell then try tackling this you illiterate idiots) much of Robin Hood is pure, old-fashioned and very cheesy pantomime. That arrow twang every time a location name is flashed on screen became very, very irritating - presumably someone thought it was amusing, but repeated several times an episodes it is just grating (and why does a dram need location names flashed up repeatedly? Talk about destroying any chance of buying into the events). And since archery (of the most ridiculous sort, all very bad speed shots) is a mainstay of Robin Hood using an arrow twang when the place names appear is also quite confusing - did someone fire at someone? Oh, no its just a place name going up. Twang! Ah, ignore it, just another place name... Nope, he did actually fire another arrow; well, actually waste another arrow since Robin fires dozens of them impossibly quick (what happened to the 21st century sense of realism they were going for?) but doesn't usually hit anyone, even the bad guys - the damned thing is bloodless and so watered down it destroys any energy in the fights or any sense of peril.
The pantomime continues; the Sheriff is made to look like a villain from some dreadful East End gangster flick, all shaved head and mono-expression while the jailer/tortuter is, of course, ugly and almost deformed looking. That's just so damned predictable and frankly lazy on the part of the makers, but since everyone else in this mediocre offering is equally dull and lame it probably doesn't matter. It's a shame, I was looking forward to this for some time and the BBC has spent a lot of our money on what turns out to be an attempt to do a serious and stylish HBO-type series but come up instead with a bland and innacurate MTV piece of gloss with no substance. I think I'll stick to my main man, Errol Flynn. Yes, that old technicolor Flynn and Rathbone movie is very silly but it is vastly enjoyable; I don't think I'll bother sticking around for the third episode, I've given it two goes and it failed to grip me. And coming off after reading the first two magnificent Captain Alatriste novels by Spanish author Arturo Perez-Reverte I was so looking forward to more swashbuckling; in fact, if you too are disappointed in this expensive piece of awfulness that is Robon Hood then do yourself a favour -forget it and go and read Alatriste.
Still on the TV front though and I heard about an upcoming TV series based around the Dresden Files novel by Jim Butcher starting in the New Year in the US. If you're not familiar with them, they centre around Harry Dresden, down at heels Chicago PI who also happens to be a wizard (the only one in the phone book "people found, enchantments broken, no love spells"). I knew sod all about them when Orbit released them here last year (several had been out in the US for a while); to catch up with the US Orbit released two a month over three months last autumn. I thought I'd give the first one a go and was damned well hooked so quickly I ended up reading all six back to back and with the outstanding reading list I have waiting for me to get into I don't often just stop everything else to do that. Nice mix of noir mysteries with fantasy and genuine horror in each book but as you go along you realise that not only is Jim building up the other characters and details he is creating an overarching series of linked events in the background which will have consequences as the books evolve. Obviously no idea how the series will pan out, but Jim is said to be happy with what he has seen (then again Paul Cornell seemed happy about the upcoming Robin Hood).
Thursday, October 12, 2006
Muslim insulted by something shocker
In a shocking piece of news some parts of the Islamic world have been insulted and outraged at something. Yes, I know, I didn't see that happening since they it is such an easy going religion of laid back and tolerant people. Actually this looks like one of those completely manufactured stories where someone with an agenda has whipped up a media outrage, laughably over the designer Apple 5th Avenue story in New York which is a similar shape to the Ka'ba, but the report the Register had gave me a giggle today because you can so easily believe that some bunch of numpties in green headscarves would march about shouting over something like this and burning an effigy of an Ipod. In fact they may even be offended that I infered they might be offended. And that last statement is no doubt offensive to certain sections of Islam too. And that one. Hmmm, better stop now.
Conservative small towner outraged shocker
Meanwhile over in the land of the free some small towners in America have been outraged by that insult to deceny which is freedom of expression. One total eejit demanded the removal of a book which was full of bad language (no, of course he didn't read it). The book was ... wait for it... Ray Bradbury's Fahrenheit 451. For added irony he wanted to ban a book about banned books while the American libraries were running their Banned Books promotion (because everyone in the booktrade believes solidly in freedom of expression. Except perhaps on blogs). Meanwhile I mentioned an ongoing story on the FPI blog about yet another bunch of small-minded, small town yokels who are demanding their local library stop peddling porno filth in the form of two adult graphic novels, Fun Home by Alison Bechdel and Blankets by Craig Thompson.
Both are critically acclaimed works aimed squarely at adults but apparently 'children might read them' Yeah, and kids might find Uncle Fred's S&M Donkey Shagging porno stash too. Or sticking with the library they might find books on sex in the health section.They aren't in the kid's section, so what is the problem? If you are letting your tiny tot wander round picking up and reading anything don't blame the librarians (or booksellers as I have had personal experience of this crap here too myself) it's your job as a parent to look after your little sprog, not to police other adults. Alison's book I haven't had a chance to read yet, but Blankets is a fabulous book and far from being pornographic is actually very touching and sweet. And these people are outraged that the library spent public money buying these books. Well guess what? The public libraries buy religious books which I don't approve of and mind-rotting inane potboiler thrillers and slushy romances too, all of which I think are a waste of paper but I don't go round demanding the libraries stop buying them. I'd just poke fun at the braindead morons who find these things intellectually stretching.
In a shocking piece of news some parts of the Islamic world have been insulted and outraged at something. Yes, I know, I didn't see that happening since they it is such an easy going religion of laid back and tolerant people. Actually this looks like one of those completely manufactured stories where someone with an agenda has whipped up a media outrage, laughably over the designer Apple 5th Avenue story in New York which is a similar shape to the Ka'ba, but the report the Register had gave me a giggle today because you can so easily believe that some bunch of numpties in green headscarves would march about shouting over something like this and burning an effigy of an Ipod. In fact they may even be offended that I infered they might be offended. And that last statement is no doubt offensive to certain sections of Islam too. And that one. Hmmm, better stop now.
Conservative small towner outraged shocker
Meanwhile over in the land of the free some small towners in America have been outraged by that insult to deceny which is freedom of expression. One total eejit demanded the removal of a book which was full of bad language (no, of course he didn't read it). The book was ... wait for it... Ray Bradbury's Fahrenheit 451. For added irony he wanted to ban a book about banned books while the American libraries were running their Banned Books promotion (because everyone in the booktrade believes solidly in freedom of expression. Except perhaps on blogs). Meanwhile I mentioned an ongoing story on the FPI blog about yet another bunch of small-minded, small town yokels who are demanding their local library stop peddling porno filth in the form of two adult graphic novels, Fun Home by Alison Bechdel and Blankets by Craig Thompson.
Both are critically acclaimed works aimed squarely at adults but apparently 'children might read them' Yeah, and kids might find Uncle Fred's S&M Donkey Shagging porno stash too. Or sticking with the library they might find books on sex in the health section.They aren't in the kid's section, so what is the problem? If you are letting your tiny tot wander round picking up and reading anything don't blame the librarians (or booksellers as I have had personal experience of this crap here too myself) it's your job as a parent to look after your little sprog, not to police other adults. Alison's book I haven't had a chance to read yet, but Blankets is a fabulous book and far from being pornographic is actually very touching and sweet. And these people are outraged that the library spent public money buying these books. Well guess what? The public libraries buy religious books which I don't approve of and mind-rotting inane potboiler thrillers and slushy romances too, all of which I think are a waste of paper but I don't go round demanding the libraries stop buying them. I'd just poke fun at the braindead morons who find these things intellectually stretching.
Cameron video spoof
Labour MP Sion Simon has posted a YouTube video spoofing Conservative leader David 'photo opportunity' Cameron's laughable 'spontaneous' video blog from his home, complete with yelling child. It's more interesting than funny - I had no idea our politicians had managed to get so technologically advanced as to post a YouTube vid; my MP doesn't even had a website and you need to really hunt to find an email address for the bugger (and even longer to get a reply). But I'm pleased to see someone lampooning Cameron's gag-inducing web video, especially another politician:
Labour MP Sion Simon has posted a YouTube video spoofing Conservative leader David 'photo opportunity' Cameron's laughable 'spontaneous' video blog from his home, complete with yelling child. It's more interesting than funny - I had no idea our politicians had managed to get so technologically advanced as to post a YouTube vid; my MP doesn't even had a website and you need to really hunt to find an email address for the bugger (and even longer to get a reply). But I'm pleased to see someone lampooning Cameron's gag-inducing web video, especially another politician:
Wednesday, October 11, 2006
Album Cover Wars
My friend Chris who runs the Collected Comics Library podcast sent me a link to this; it's a great animation based around classic rock album covers (admit it, how many of these covers have you seen used for skinning up on at parties?). It seems quite Python-era Terry Gilliam in places, both style and the sometimes sick humour (got to love it!):
My friend Chris who runs the Collected Comics Library podcast sent me a link to this; it's a great animation based around classic rock album covers (admit it, how many of these covers have you seen used for skinning up on at parties?). It seems quite Python-era Terry Gilliam in places, both style and the sometimes sick humour (got to love it!):
Tuesday, October 10, 2006
The Ten Commandments of Web 2.0
I picked this up from AU Interactive via the Atlanta Media Bloggers site (which was running a piece on bloggers who had been fired because of their posting). It's not perfect, but some of it is pretty funny and right on the money - the First Commandment is especially timely:
1. I am the Lord thy Google, which have brought thee out of the land of Web 1.0, out of the house of bondage. Thou shalt have no other search engines before me.
G knows when you are sleeping (Google Calendar), G knows when you’re awake (Google Alerts), he knows if you’ve been bad or good (Google Desktop), so be good for Google’s sake. Google has more power than God. If you don’t believe me, check out the results: “Google”: 114,000,000 vs. “God”: 40,600,000.
2. Thou shalt not take the name of Apple in vain.
The music of the righteous man is beset on all sides by the iniquities of the RIAA and the tyranny of MSN. Blessed is he, who in the name of iTunes and 99 cents, shepherds the weak through the valley of “The Darkness,” for he is truly his brother’s keeper and the finder of “Lost” children. And I will Digg down thee with great vengeance and furious anger those who would attempt to poison and destroy my Macbook. And you will know my name is Steve Jobs when I lay my DRM vengeance upon thee.
3. Thou shalt not make copies of any Flickr image, or any likeness of anything that is in heaven above, or that is in the earth beneath, or that is in the water under the earth without first checking the creative commons license. Thou shalt not download it thyself and serve them from your server.
While YouTube plays the “Copy? Right!” game, and fair use is getting stretched wider than America’s waistline, the idea of intellectual property still exists and is enforceable. If nothing else it’s good karma – don’t steal other people’s art, photos, or video without permission, attribution, or at least a little “Thanks XXX, whoever you are”, muttered to yourself.
4. Remember the sabbath day, to keep it holy.
Get the hell out of the house Sunday. Seriously. The world will not end if you don’t blog for 1 day out of the week. Go take a walk in the park or streak a football game. It will give you something to blog about on Monday.
5. Honor thy fathr and thy mothr: thy website names may not be long.
Avoid all vowels. At all costs. At all times. Also, give your mothr some props and put her in your top 8.
6. Thou shalt not kill your comments.
Only Seth Godin and Satan have blogs without comments. If you’re going to have a blog, let people interact with it.
7. Thou shalt not commit adultery (if you have an AOL account.)
The AOL data leak showed us all the dangers of search histories and large companies releasing large amount of semi-personally identifiable information. If you’re going to get some cookie, delete your cookies. And if you can, cancel your AOL account.
8. Thou shalt not steal successful ideas and lame them out.
If you’ve always wanted “School Your Way” or you want to “Let Your Page be Your Stage”, then check out the really hip Wal-Mart and AOL social networks. Tubular! Or you can always create clones of Digg (Netscape) or YouTube (MSN Soapbox) if cloning MySpace seems a bit too daunting.
9. Thou shalt not bear false witness against Wikipedia.
I’m looking at you Steven Colbert. We can’t have just anyone modifying the sum of all human knowledge at will. Not unless we live in Washington and/or our last names start with O’Reilly.
10. Thou shalt not bookmark thy neighbor’s house, thou shalt not bookmark thy neighbor’s wife, nor his manservant, nor his maidservant, nor his ox, nor his ass, nor anything that is thy neighbor’s.
It’s called tagging now and you should covet it like crazy. And you must put it in a cloud – it’s most angelic. Here’s a way to tag that wife, ass, house, and maidservant properly:
big house AOL cheating donkey manservant maidservant neighbor wife hot ox Oregon trail sweet wheels spinnin maiden oxen you have just died of dysentery synonyms donkey ass what don’t get it web2.0 digg how covet really want more ye olde scurvy
Supergroup Video
I do like BBC Radio 2's damned smart trailer which shows an imaginary supergroup fronted by Elvis Presley, with the Sugababes on backing vocals, Keith Moon on Drums, Noel Gallagher on rhythm, Jimmy Paige on lead , Stevie Wonder on piano and Sheryl Crow on bass. Okay, some of those folks aren't my favourite musicians, but this video is just so well put together. As well as the inevitable YouTube (or should we say GoogleTube - caution, this is not available in China) you can also see it on the BBC's megasite. And on BBC Breakfast News today as they talked to the guys who put it together they also mentioned that it's got more people thinking, hey, not listened to Elvis in a long time...
I do like BBC Radio 2's damned smart trailer which shows an imaginary supergroup fronted by Elvis Presley, with the Sugababes on backing vocals, Keith Moon on Drums, Noel Gallagher on rhythm, Jimmy Paige on lead , Stevie Wonder on piano and Sheryl Crow on bass. Okay, some of those folks aren't my favourite musicians, but this video is just so well put together. As well as the inevitable YouTube (or should we say GoogleTube - caution, this is not available in China) you can also see it on the BBC's megasite. And on BBC Breakfast News today as they talked to the guys who put it together they also mentioned that it's got more people thinking, hey, not listened to Elvis in a long time...
WoolamaGoogle-oo
Wow! Google are in negotiations with the board of directors of the Woolamaloo Gazette (that's me, the cats and Ariel has an honorary directorship) and are offering $450 million for a controlling interest in the Woolamaloo, which shall then become the WoolamaGoogle-oo.
Okay, not really (sigh), but come on, not any madder than some of what they buy (p.s. Google, much as I love my dear blog, if you do want to invest I am open to decent offers. It's a known, international brand and not currently being sued by TV or music companies, although I doubt you'd get much advertising revenue from certain bookstores).
Sunday, October 8, 2006
For Your Protection
Reading my friend Anthony's blog (Anthony is the writer of Shooting War) at GNN recently I noticed a post about the illegal detention of people at Gauntanamo. Alas, nothing new, you may sigh; despite the fact that the US has now been holding hundreds for up to five years with no trials, no legal process and, most damingly, no solid evidence being presented to back up the assertions levelled at prisoners most citizens in the West really don't think much about it. Sure, it gets the occassional large piece in the news or a documentary, but nothing which changes the policy and I worry that people just come to accept it as a 'normal' background part of our world, like the nightly reports of mass killing in Iraq we just numbly now accept.
More worrying is the fact that a lot of people seem to assume that if they are being held then they must have done something wrong. This is the same flawed (il)logic which is applied also to the biometric ID cards and DNA database schemes in the UK: surely, it says, you are only opposed to this if you have something to hide (my own local MP made much the same weak argument). Persevere with an injustice for long enough and eventually your people will just accept it; that's been a credo of the bully throughout history. Perhaps there are some genuine terrorists being held; with so many from troubled areas it is quite likely, but if we cannot provide proof after five years of illegal detention and investigation it doesn't say much for our intelligence services - if they can't prove someone they have had locked up without rights for half a decade has done something wrong then how are we to trust them to find out about terrorists operating at large?
But to get back to the point of something like this, much as many of us hate it, slowly becoming a (reluctantly) accepted fact I read in Anthony's post about Sami al-Haj, the only known journalist held at Gauntanamo, a cameraman for Al-Jazeera. His story is well known across the Muslim world and yet, as Anthony notes, hardly mentioned in the West; in fact I hadn't heard of it myself. Which brings us to that gradul acceptance of thing; I like to try and keep up with events and as anyone who reads this regularly knows I like to discuss them, partly because I am an opinionated bugger but also because discussion of events is how civilised peoples attempt to raise awareness of the activities of the more barbarous elements of human society. And yet I'd never heard of this. Too easy to let these events go past us all without stopping to question, until one day we wake up and find our own citizens being held without habeus corpus and our emails intercepted without even the approval of a judge, our DNA on a database and MPs signing away the rights of the people they represent 'for their protection' while uttering bland 'statistics', the veracity of which cannot be proven to the public 'for security reasons'.
And anyone who speaks against these is accussed of being a comforter to the bad guys, a traitor. Strange, I always thought it more patriotic to stand up for the system of democracy, freedom of speech, belief and expression, protection of law applied equally for all, to defend our core values which come under attack from terrorists and those who pretend to be our leaders and protectors. Core values which generations shed blood to protect for us, so if our so-called leaders sign them away, doesn't that make them the traitors? So now, thanks to Anthony I know about this; it doesn't change things in that this man will not either be freed or given a proper fair trial but it does remind me that I should keep my eyes and ears open. The old quote about the price of liberty being eternal vigilance is true; listen, read, speak.
Reading my friend Anthony's blog (Anthony is the writer of Shooting War) at GNN recently I noticed a post about the illegal detention of people at Gauntanamo. Alas, nothing new, you may sigh; despite the fact that the US has now been holding hundreds for up to five years with no trials, no legal process and, most damingly, no solid evidence being presented to back up the assertions levelled at prisoners most citizens in the West really don't think much about it. Sure, it gets the occassional large piece in the news or a documentary, but nothing which changes the policy and I worry that people just come to accept it as a 'normal' background part of our world, like the nightly reports of mass killing in Iraq we just numbly now accept.
More worrying is the fact that a lot of people seem to assume that if they are being held then they must have done something wrong. This is the same flawed (il)logic which is applied also to the biometric ID cards and DNA database schemes in the UK: surely, it says, you are only opposed to this if you have something to hide (my own local MP made much the same weak argument). Persevere with an injustice for long enough and eventually your people will just accept it; that's been a credo of the bully throughout history. Perhaps there are some genuine terrorists being held; with so many from troubled areas it is quite likely, but if we cannot provide proof after five years of illegal detention and investigation it doesn't say much for our intelligence services - if they can't prove someone they have had locked up without rights for half a decade has done something wrong then how are we to trust them to find out about terrorists operating at large?
But to get back to the point of something like this, much as many of us hate it, slowly becoming a (reluctantly) accepted fact I read in Anthony's post about Sami al-Haj, the only known journalist held at Gauntanamo, a cameraman for Al-Jazeera. His story is well known across the Muslim world and yet, as Anthony notes, hardly mentioned in the West; in fact I hadn't heard of it myself. Which brings us to that gradul acceptance of thing; I like to try and keep up with events and as anyone who reads this regularly knows I like to discuss them, partly because I am an opinionated bugger but also because discussion of events is how civilised peoples attempt to raise awareness of the activities of the more barbarous elements of human society. And yet I'd never heard of this. Too easy to let these events go past us all without stopping to question, until one day we wake up and find our own citizens being held without habeus corpus and our emails intercepted without even the approval of a judge, our DNA on a database and MPs signing away the rights of the people they represent 'for their protection' while uttering bland 'statistics', the veracity of which cannot be proven to the public 'for security reasons'.
And anyone who speaks against these is accussed of being a comforter to the bad guys, a traitor. Strange, I always thought it more patriotic to stand up for the system of democracy, freedom of speech, belief and expression, protection of law applied equally for all, to defend our core values which come under attack from terrorists and those who pretend to be our leaders and protectors. Core values which generations shed blood to protect for us, so if our so-called leaders sign them away, doesn't that make them the traitors? So now, thanks to Anthony I know about this; it doesn't change things in that this man will not either be freed or given a proper fair trial but it does remind me that I should keep my eyes and ears open. The old quote about the price of liberty being eternal vigilance is true; listen, read, speak.
Saturday, October 7, 2006
Hymns
After posting my religious musings earlier I was reminded of the old religious joke: why do we say 'amen' and not 'awomen' in church? Because we sing 'hymns' and not 'hers'. Yes, I can hear you groaning from here... Don't worry though, since that was such a bad joke I will refrain from now launching onto a discussion of the inherint sexism of most organised religions.
After posting my religious musings earlier I was reminded of the old religious joke: why do we say 'amen' and not 'awomen' in church? Because we sing 'hymns' and not 'hers'. Yes, I can hear you groaning from here... Don't worry though, since that was such a bad joke I will refrain from now launching onto a discussion of the inherint sexism of most organised religions.
In-between places
It looks likely the Popenfuhrer will take the advice of his experts and amend the Catholic church's stance on limbo, the nebulous state between salvation with God and damnation in Hell (where at least you can get a decent drink and listen to some good rock'n'roll). Specifically they seem a little concerned that the understanding that babies who die before being baptised go straight to limbo should be amended, not least because it increases the suffering of bereft parents who are devout believers (although why you would choose to believe in a god of love who has just taken your baby is something I'll never understand). It's never actually been official church teaching and has no basis in the Bible, but that hasn't stopped a lot of people believing it over the years (bit like the Rapture that millions of intellectually feeble folks, especially in the US, believe in, despite having no basis in the Bible which they purport to take literally - another example of the contradictory nature of organised religion).
There are some commenters saying that this whole exercise is a cynical marketing move to improve the appeal of the Catholic church in Third World countries where there is a large amount of infant mortality and, coincidentally, countries where more are turning to Islam. Naturally the church denies this. I can't help but also think it is a bid to improve their appearance in the West too; after all, no-one is going to like a group of people who tell grieving parents their dead baby can't go to Heaven, are they? But mostly I think this whole intellectual exercise illustrates the sheer folly of unquestioning belief in organised religion (not least believing the Pontiff is magically infallible when he takes the Holy office - isn't that almost blasphemous to assume that a mere human can never be wrong? Isn't that a faculty reserved only for God??). I mean, what happens to all those souls that since the Middle Ages are held to be trapped in Limbo?
Does this change mean the older church stance was wrong and they never were in limbo? And if so, where did those souls go? Heaven? Hell? Can they get into Heaven without being baptised? If several hundred years of teaching were wrong on this then what else is false? Just as when the same church had to finally allow that the Earth really did orbit the sun, thus disputing centuries of belief and dogma, it invites the question of how valid can any of the structures the church has built actually be? And why do so many still follow without question like sheep? Perhaps they are the lambs Christians go on about?!? Or perhaps they are just too terrified to question because then belief collapses like a house of cards and they would have to take respnsibility for their own soul and explore belief themselves instead of being told what to believe? Isn't all of this a prime example of what happens when you construct an idea on false grounds, just like the aforementioned Helio-centric universe which simple observation of the stars and planets disproved, it requires constant additions and alterations to try and make the entire wobbly structure stay upright in the face of legitimate questioning. And thus we have the lesson of the foolish man who built his religious dogma-house on sand... I'm so glad I'm a Seventh Day Cartoonist; now, my sisters and brothers, go in peace and may the Great Animator ensure you never run off a cliff while wearing Acme jet skates.
It looks likely the Popenfuhrer will take the advice of his experts and amend the Catholic church's stance on limbo, the nebulous state between salvation with God and damnation in Hell (where at least you can get a decent drink and listen to some good rock'n'roll). Specifically they seem a little concerned that the understanding that babies who die before being baptised go straight to limbo should be amended, not least because it increases the suffering of bereft parents who are devout believers (although why you would choose to believe in a god of love who has just taken your baby is something I'll never understand). It's never actually been official church teaching and has no basis in the Bible, but that hasn't stopped a lot of people believing it over the years (bit like the Rapture that millions of intellectually feeble folks, especially in the US, believe in, despite having no basis in the Bible which they purport to take literally - another example of the contradictory nature of organised religion).
There are some commenters saying that this whole exercise is a cynical marketing move to improve the appeal of the Catholic church in Third World countries where there is a large amount of infant mortality and, coincidentally, countries where more are turning to Islam. Naturally the church denies this. I can't help but also think it is a bid to improve their appearance in the West too; after all, no-one is going to like a group of people who tell grieving parents their dead baby can't go to Heaven, are they? But mostly I think this whole intellectual exercise illustrates the sheer folly of unquestioning belief in organised religion (not least believing the Pontiff is magically infallible when he takes the Holy office - isn't that almost blasphemous to assume that a mere human can never be wrong? Isn't that a faculty reserved only for God??). I mean, what happens to all those souls that since the Middle Ages are held to be trapped in Limbo?
Does this change mean the older church stance was wrong and they never were in limbo? And if so, where did those souls go? Heaven? Hell? Can they get into Heaven without being baptised? If several hundred years of teaching were wrong on this then what else is false? Just as when the same church had to finally allow that the Earth really did orbit the sun, thus disputing centuries of belief and dogma, it invites the question of how valid can any of the structures the church has built actually be? And why do so many still follow without question like sheep? Perhaps they are the lambs Christians go on about?!? Or perhaps they are just too terrified to question because then belief collapses like a house of cards and they would have to take respnsibility for their own soul and explore belief themselves instead of being told what to believe? Isn't all of this a prime example of what happens when you construct an idea on false grounds, just like the aforementioned Helio-centric universe which simple observation of the stars and planets disproved, it requires constant additions and alterations to try and make the entire wobbly structure stay upright in the face of legitimate questioning. And thus we have the lesson of the foolish man who built his religious dogma-house on sand... I'm so glad I'm a Seventh Day Cartoonist; now, my sisters and brothers, go in peace and may the Great Animator ensure you never run off a cliff while wearing Acme jet skates.
Friday, October 6, 2006
Lift my chains
The Guardian often runs a 'reported on this day in history' feature from their archives. Today they quoted from the Guardian of October 6th, 1862, although the events being reported actually took place on September 22nd and had taken this long to reach Britain via a Royal Mail steamship which left the New World on the 24th and arrived on the Mersey to approach the busy port of Liverpool on Sunday 5th (steam packet and telegraph, cutting edge technlogy and quick reporting for the time), from where it telegraphed an incredible proclamation, issued by a very strange-looking, tall, awkward-seeming man who entered the history of not only his own nation but the shared heritage of the world. The man was Abraham Lincoln, the proclamation, issued during the dreadful carnage of the American Civil War was the document which set forth freedom from slavery:
"on the 1st day of January, in the year of our Lord one thousand eight hundred and sixty-three, all persons held as slaves within any state, or any designated part of a state, the people whereof shall then be in rebellion against the United States, shall be then thenceforward and for ever free, and the executive government of the United States, including the military and naval authority thereof, will recognise and maintain the freedom of such persons, and will do no act or acts to repress such persons, or any of them, in any efforts they may make for their actual freedom ..."
Around one hundred years after this another president had to send in the army to end the forced segregation of white and coloured school children while Rosa Parks simply refused to take a seat in the segregated spot designated for her in a bus. Forty years on from that period and in parts of the world in sweat shops women, men and children toil in conditions most of us would consider virtual slavery. And in other nations which do not have this problem (but which consume the goods made by these virtual slaves, perpetuating the cycle of exploitation) there are other forms of slavery still. Bands of iron may be gone but how many slave away chained to a mortgage and towering debt, struggling to barely keep their heads above water all so for a few short years they might have in impoverished retirement?
And then there are the more subtle forms of chains and slavery, those which we construct ourselves in our culture and philosophies, set rigid until those faculties which should be tools our minds use to contruct instead become master of is guiding our perceptions into rigid patterns: our way is always right, yours is always wrong; our race is superior to your race; this person is more valuable than that... I don't make any claim to be free of those virtual chains, but I do see them and try to keep my mind free. The finest, sharpest weapons to achieve that liberty are discussion and reading. Coincidentally the written and spoken words are among the activities most in power, be they democratic governments, dictators or large corporations, always want to command, control, shape. All the more reason to read and to talk; every time you do, every time you write your own opinions and thoughts and feelings you are breaking some of those virtual chains. I think old Abe would approve of that.
The Guardian often runs a 'reported on this day in history' feature from their archives. Today they quoted from the Guardian of October 6th, 1862, although the events being reported actually took place on September 22nd and had taken this long to reach Britain via a Royal Mail steamship which left the New World on the 24th and arrived on the Mersey to approach the busy port of Liverpool on Sunday 5th (steam packet and telegraph, cutting edge technlogy and quick reporting for the time), from where it telegraphed an incredible proclamation, issued by a very strange-looking, tall, awkward-seeming man who entered the history of not only his own nation but the shared heritage of the world. The man was Abraham Lincoln, the proclamation, issued during the dreadful carnage of the American Civil War was the document which set forth freedom from slavery:
"on the 1st day of January, in the year of our Lord one thousand eight hundred and sixty-three, all persons held as slaves within any state, or any designated part of a state, the people whereof shall then be in rebellion against the United States, shall be then thenceforward and for ever free, and the executive government of the United States, including the military and naval authority thereof, will recognise and maintain the freedom of such persons, and will do no act or acts to repress such persons, or any of them, in any efforts they may make for their actual freedom ..."
Around one hundred years after this another president had to send in the army to end the forced segregation of white and coloured school children while Rosa Parks simply refused to take a seat in the segregated spot designated for her in a bus. Forty years on from that period and in parts of the world in sweat shops women, men and children toil in conditions most of us would consider virtual slavery. And in other nations which do not have this problem (but which consume the goods made by these virtual slaves, perpetuating the cycle of exploitation) there are other forms of slavery still. Bands of iron may be gone but how many slave away chained to a mortgage and towering debt, struggling to barely keep their heads above water all so for a few short years they might have in impoverished retirement?
And then there are the more subtle forms of chains and slavery, those which we construct ourselves in our culture and philosophies, set rigid until those faculties which should be tools our minds use to contruct instead become master of is guiding our perceptions into rigid patterns: our way is always right, yours is always wrong; our race is superior to your race; this person is more valuable than that... I don't make any claim to be free of those virtual chains, but I do see them and try to keep my mind free. The finest, sharpest weapons to achieve that liberty are discussion and reading. Coincidentally the written and spoken words are among the activities most in power, be they democratic governments, dictators or large corporations, always want to command, control, shape. All the more reason to read and to talk; every time you do, every time you write your own opinions and thoughts and feelings you are breaking some of those virtual chains. I think old Abe would approve of that.
Monday, October 2, 2006
Damned diplomats
Nice item via Boing Boing where some academics have been analysing the unpaid parking tickets by dipomats in New York City - nice to see the 'elite' of the world attending the United Nations to help civilise the world by using their diplomatic immunity to piss all over local laws. Interesting to see the top ten violators - hmmm, mostly from pretty small and relatively powerless countries. Is breaking the law in the USA a form of compensation for these people, perhaps? And equally interesting that the more civilised countries (those who have lower crime rates and tend not to go round starting wars) are the ones who have diplomats who don't abuse the privilige of immunity? Mind you, there is a nice update on Boing Boing pointing out the massive amount of money US embassy staff owe in unpaid congestion charges for London. These are the people tasked with trying to make sure the nations of the world get on amicably without resorting to violence... Gee, that explains why the place is such a mess... Hey kids, you may as well grow up to be rude, ignorant assholes, then you can get yourself a successful career as an international diplomat.
Nice item via Boing Boing where some academics have been analysing the unpaid parking tickets by dipomats in New York City - nice to see the 'elite' of the world attending the United Nations to help civilise the world by using their diplomatic immunity to piss all over local laws. Interesting to see the top ten violators - hmmm, mostly from pretty small and relatively powerless countries. Is breaking the law in the USA a form of compensation for these people, perhaps? And equally interesting that the more civilised countries (those who have lower crime rates and tend not to go round starting wars) are the ones who have diplomats who don't abuse the privilige of immunity? Mind you, there is a nice update on Boing Boing pointing out the massive amount of money US embassy staff owe in unpaid congestion charges for London. These are the people tasked with trying to make sure the nations of the world get on amicably without resorting to violence... Gee, that explains why the place is such a mess... Hey kids, you may as well grow up to be rude, ignorant assholes, then you can get yourself a successful career as an international diplomat.
Sunday, October 1, 2006
Doors Open Day
Many cities around the UK have an annual Doors Open Day when parts of buildings not generally open to the public are accessible, usually free as well. Sudden sunny burst of unseasonably warm weather crept in for the last day of September (how can it be October already???) so we headed off into town to do something we really don't do that often, wander around it and take in the sights. Sure, we walk around town a lot, but usually going to one place in particular to visit it, or to go to certain stores, but not to wander around like tourists. And Despite the lateness of the season the Royal Mile was packed with tourists still.
We planned to start with Crockett's Land (alas Tubb's Land was knocked down in the late 80s), a building with an unusual Dutch-style front to the top (the teracotta orange building in the pic above), more than likely because it once belonged to a merchant who was one of the many Scottish traders who were active in the Low Countries. Alas, because of the relatively small space within only so many folks were allowed in at a time and the queue was pretty big, so we pressed on thinking we'd come back, except when we did the queue was even larger. Oh well, maybe next time...
We did take in some other places though, including the new Scottish Storytelling Centre, which is attached to John Knox house (a preacher who really needed to smoke a doobie, get laid and relax then maybe Scottish history would have less sectarian bigotry in it) and is in front of the Scottish Book Trust, with the Poetry Library slightly further down the Mile, so there's something of a literary ghetto going on. We climbed up to the Bell Tower and got a nice view of the Royal Mile from an angle we don't normally get to see.
All up and down the Royal Mile you see winding alleys, called closes or wynds, leading off and down the ridge between tall, skinny old buildings. One of these leads to Riddle's Court; step out of the bright sunlight and the tourist-filled noise of the Royal Mile and down a dark alley whcih opens out into a small courtyard, hemmed in with tall, stone buildings leaning over you. Inside Riddle's Court the real pleasure was in some of the amazing ceilings, from this incredibly colourful work (sorry not a better pic, it was very hard to shoot this in a small space full of folks with all the wrong lighting).
You know what was especially nice in this room? Not only did the staff put chairs around the edges of each room so people could sit down and look up at the ceilings more easily, in this room they had put down a couple of foam mats, like campers use, so you could lie down in the middle of the floor and look right up at this work. What a lovely touch by the folks there - thank you!
Lovely as those ceilings were, they are the sorts of works that can be seen in many old homes, but this room was something I'd never seen before; sure I have seen wooden beams and yes, I have seen carved and decorated ones, but never quite like this - what an amazing piece of work.
This was in a very small room, probably no bigger than the living room of my flat. Wow. For some reason, from a distance the patterns reminded me of the sort of patterns and textures the animators used on the hulls of the CGI alien ships on Bablyon 5 to make clear they were indeed weird and alien and not human.
Not actually part of Doors Open, it's the World's End pub on the Royal Mile, so called because once upon a time the city wall would have been here so beyond this spot you were in the wilds of barbarians and vagabonds. Part of the old city wall makes up part of the wall inside the pub. The first time I drank there was back in the early 90s; by coincidence it was the same week I was reading the issues of The Sandman (still in its monthly run back then) and the then current story was the tales from the World's End inn. One of Dave McKean's covers featured an Tudor-style building teetering on the edge of a cliff. In another coincidence around the same time there was an old inn/hotel down in England which was Tudor/Elizabethan style which was in the new because a part of it suddenly broke off and plunged down the cliffs... Meaningless coincidence but all interesting and always remind me of my first visit to the World's End. Plus this is a cool pic on the side of the pub. And pubs are wonderful (and here often historical too) and after all this walking around in the warmth we needed to replenish our liquid levels.
Many cities around the UK have an annual Doors Open Day when parts of buildings not generally open to the public are accessible, usually free as well. Sudden sunny burst of unseasonably warm weather crept in for the last day of September (how can it be October already???) so we headed off into town to do something we really don't do that often, wander around it and take in the sights. Sure, we walk around town a lot, but usually going to one place in particular to visit it, or to go to certain stores, but not to wander around like tourists. And Despite the lateness of the season the Royal Mile was packed with tourists still.
We planned to start with Crockett's Land (alas Tubb's Land was knocked down in the late 80s), a building with an unusual Dutch-style front to the top (the teracotta orange building in the pic above), more than likely because it once belonged to a merchant who was one of the many Scottish traders who were active in the Low Countries. Alas, because of the relatively small space within only so many folks were allowed in at a time and the queue was pretty big, so we pressed on thinking we'd come back, except when we did the queue was even larger. Oh well, maybe next time...
We did take in some other places though, including the new Scottish Storytelling Centre, which is attached to John Knox house (a preacher who really needed to smoke a doobie, get laid and relax then maybe Scottish history would have less sectarian bigotry in it) and is in front of the Scottish Book Trust, with the Poetry Library slightly further down the Mile, so there's something of a literary ghetto going on. We climbed up to the Bell Tower and got a nice view of the Royal Mile from an angle we don't normally get to see.
All up and down the Royal Mile you see winding alleys, called closes or wynds, leading off and down the ridge between tall, skinny old buildings. One of these leads to Riddle's Court; step out of the bright sunlight and the tourist-filled noise of the Royal Mile and down a dark alley whcih opens out into a small courtyard, hemmed in with tall, stone buildings leaning over you. Inside Riddle's Court the real pleasure was in some of the amazing ceilings, from this incredibly colourful work (sorry not a better pic, it was very hard to shoot this in a small space full of folks with all the wrong lighting).
You know what was especially nice in this room? Not only did the staff put chairs around the edges of each room so people could sit down and look up at the ceilings more easily, in this room they had put down a couple of foam mats, like campers use, so you could lie down in the middle of the floor and look right up at this work. What a lovely touch by the folks there - thank you!
Lovely as those ceilings were, they are the sorts of works that can be seen in many old homes, but this room was something I'd never seen before; sure I have seen wooden beams and yes, I have seen carved and decorated ones, but never quite like this - what an amazing piece of work.
This was in a very small room, probably no bigger than the living room of my flat. Wow. For some reason, from a distance the patterns reminded me of the sort of patterns and textures the animators used on the hulls of the CGI alien ships on Bablyon 5 to make clear they were indeed weird and alien and not human.
Not actually part of Doors Open, it's the World's End pub on the Royal Mile, so called because once upon a time the city wall would have been here so beyond this spot you were in the wilds of barbarians and vagabonds. Part of the old city wall makes up part of the wall inside the pub. The first time I drank there was back in the early 90s; by coincidence it was the same week I was reading the issues of The Sandman (still in its monthly run back then) and the then current story was the tales from the World's End inn. One of Dave McKean's covers featured an Tudor-style building teetering on the edge of a cliff. In another coincidence around the same time there was an old inn/hotel down in England which was Tudor/Elizabethan style which was in the new because a part of it suddenly broke off and plunged down the cliffs... Meaningless coincidence but all interesting and always remind me of my first visit to the World's End. Plus this is a cool pic on the side of the pub. And pubs are wonderful (and here often historical too) and after all this walking around in the warmth we needed to replenish our liquid levels.
Royal Mile
A very brief video from the Bell Tower of the new Scottish Storytelling Centre (next to John Knox House andin front of the Scottish Book Trust) looking down Edinburgh's Royal Mile, shot during the annula Doors Open day yesterday:
A very brief video from the Bell Tower of the new Scottish Storytelling Centre (next to John Knox House andin front of the Scottish Book Trust) looking down Edinburgh's Royal Mile, shot during the annula Doors Open day yesterday:
John Wagner interiewed
I've posted another author interview over on the FPI blogs recently, this time with a writer who is a legend in British comics, John Wagner. John has worked on a score of comics over the years and been behind titles as diverse as the brilliant Bogie Man (mental patient convinced he is Humphrey Bogart running around Glasgow) and the book the Oscar-nominated A History of Violence movie by Cronenberg was based on. One of the foundations of 2000AD comic since the very beginning, John is also the co-creator of Judge Dredd, probably the biggest British comics character ever and one who, over the last (almost) three decades has moved into the public arena as a pop culture icon so much that people who have never read a comic have made references to the stern future lawman when describing certain other figures or actions.
Quite scary to think I've been reading John's work since I was a boy, even before the birth of 2000AD, so I was really delighted he agreed to answer a few questions, just as he and the artist who originally visualised Dredd, Carlos Ezquerra, begin a major new epic which explores the beginnings of Dredd's world and how the Judge system in the mega-cities came to replace democratic government after the Great Atom Wars. Seems appropriate that as 2000AD reaches it 30th anniversary next year its largest character finally has his history and mythology explored in Judge Dredd: Origins. So, I'm a big, excited fanboy - so what?
I've posted another author interview over on the FPI blogs recently, this time with a writer who is a legend in British comics, John Wagner. John has worked on a score of comics over the years and been behind titles as diverse as the brilliant Bogie Man (mental patient convinced he is Humphrey Bogart running around Glasgow) and the book the Oscar-nominated A History of Violence movie by Cronenberg was based on. One of the foundations of 2000AD comic since the very beginning, John is also the co-creator of Judge Dredd, probably the biggest British comics character ever and one who, over the last (almost) three decades has moved into the public arena as a pop culture icon so much that people who have never read a comic have made references to the stern future lawman when describing certain other figures or actions.
Quite scary to think I've been reading John's work since I was a boy, even before the birth of 2000AD, so I was really delighted he agreed to answer a few questions, just as he and the artist who originally visualised Dredd, Carlos Ezquerra, begin a major new epic which explores the beginnings of Dredd's world and how the Judge system in the mega-cities came to replace democratic government after the Great Atom Wars. Seems appropriate that as 2000AD reaches it 30th anniversary next year its largest character finally has his history and mythology explored in Judge Dredd: Origins. So, I'm a big, excited fanboy - so what?
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