Today, I am hard at work at secret projects, and Holland is dead, or something. Here, go read this article about Daredevil.
I know that Moff is the only one that likes that movie (probably because it’s a pretty dumb movie), but I’ve actually always liked the character of Daredevil. There’s something sort of gritty and low-tech about him that I find really appealing.
Dear states considering secession from the Union:
I know that you don’t like being American, and I’m sorry to hear that, but if you really feel like you want to go, here’s some things to consider:
First: Texas doesn’t have anything in its constitution that gives it the right to secede. Sorry.
Second: it’s illegal. I know, I know, the constitution doesn’t prohibit it, which probably makes you think that the “right to secede” is protected by the 10th Amendment. Here’s why you’re wrong.
Over at the Black Gate Magazine website, a fellow named Bill Ward has put up an article about the difference between a book review, a book summary, and book criticism. There are some interesting and important distinctions to be made there. One of the things it’s done, though, is got me thinking about the nature of reviews and reviewers: how reviews get propagated, who reviewers make their living, what kind of media can support effective reviews.
So, onward!
It’s Friday, let’s see about some crazy shit in the news. There was Balloon Boy, that was a trip. I found myself hugely disinterested in the brouhaha when everyone thought he’d floated off, before it turned out to be a hoax. I mean, yeah, scary for the kid (maybe? He is six. Six year olds get scared in weird ways), but odds are the balloon was going to come down somewhere, right? And even if he was doomed to fly off into space and die there–well, look: shitty things happen to people all the time, kids even. I don’t really see how my constant attention or hysteria is going to help this one. What made this news, exactly, except that a balloon was involved? I don’t know.
There’s this, did you hear about this guy? Louisiana Justice of the Peace refused a marriage license to an inter-racial couple, on account of how troublesome it would be for their children. As though 1) they couldn’t have children without being married, 2) they couldn’t be married without having children, or 3) any trouble their kids might have had wouldn’t have come from racists asshats like this guy, anyway.
“Yeah, I just can’t in good conscience give a marriage license to an inter-racial couple,” he says. ”Because of all the troubles their kids will have to deal with. I mean, among other things, do you know how hard it will be for them to get a marriage license when they’re grown?”
I suppose it’s not an accident that most racists are also morons; I wish that they weren’t allowed to be judges, though.
And, let’s see. Oh! Finally, here’s a link about a study that shows that woman who are (or think of themselves as) overweight lose self-esteem when they look at pictures of any kind of model, “plus”-sized or no. Underweight women do not. I don’t know why this is, I think it’s a good reason to just build a machine that takes all of your measurements then creates a computer-model based on you, and shows you in the clothes. And then maybe builds the clothes customized to your size and shape. It can’t be that hard. Somebody get those MIT guys on it.
Anyway, really I just linked to the article for the picture of Lizzi Miller, because whoah. Oh, shit! I’m contributing to the problem!
Here is my reasoning for watching Stargate Universe – I thought Robert Carlyle would have been an awesome Doctor Who, and so when that didn’t happen (not that it was ever a serious consideration, but c’mon, how COOL would he have been?!), and he got cast in another sci-fi franchise, I figured I’d take what I can get.
I have neutral-to-negative feelings on Stargate as a franchise. I never watched the movie, or any of the other shows, but I’ve always been a little pissed off at its ability to outlast other, more beloved series (and even casting Farscape’s Ben Browder and Claudia Black and Firefly’s Jewel Staite felt more like rubbing salt in the wound than throwing fans a bone). But on the other hand, I was intrigued by its new-viewer-friendly promise, and again: Hey look, there’s Robert Carlyle!
VIP asked last week for me to say some things about my new play, The Life of John Henry. At the time, I did not respond! She probably thought I was mad or inconsiderate. In fact, I was waiting for this post, on the Iron Age workblog site, to drop:
On John Henry:
When I was a kid in elementary school, we had to do a lesson on American tall tales: Pecos Bill, Paul Bunyan, John Henry. When I was eleven, I think I liked Pecos Bill the best, because he rode around on a tornado. As I got older, I started to lean towards an admiration for John Henry. First as an example of the power of the human spirit–of what a person was truly capable of when they pushed themselves to the utter limit–but secondly because the story is the most intellectually complex of our American folktales.
From Beyond has that wonderful moment you sometimes feel about midway through a movie, 
where you realize, “Ohh. They’re ALL going to get fucked up. Okay, let’s do this!” Just because you LIKE Jeffrey Combs, that doesn’t mean he’s gonna make it out of this at all okay. The moment you realize this is when he is half-eaten by what can only be described as a giant, toothy worm and does not die.
So, Holland is struggling with deadlines today, and can’t write the Friday post. I have to keep wrestling with this kitten so she won’t eat the power cord on the computer. Things are tough all over.
Let’s talk about some things!
There is a fantastic short horror story built into the first third of They Live. From the start, there’s the sense that something’s Not Quite Right. There’s the everyday misery that is a depressed economy (and man, ain’t it sad that the film itself really hasn’t aged that much). The moment where cops start attacking protesting poor people in churches, you know things are worse than they should be. And then, there’s the capper. When the everyman who Believes in America (that is an actual line of dialogue) learns just what America has really become.
In fact, I could actually recommend it without reservations, so long as you simply stop the movie at this point, after you see the word “OBEY” a few times and embrace it not as the end of the first act, but as the mean little twist that makes for good horror.
Actually – it’s probably a very good “Twilight Zone” episode…that just HAPPENS to star Rowdy Roddy Piper.
A couple days ago, Charlie Jane Anders at io9 wrote an article positing that escapism was the highest form of art. Since the spectre of escapism is inextricable from any serious or even casual study of entertainment-based artistry, and since my own thoughts on the subject were kind of disordered and all over the place, I want to revisit the issue in light of CJA’s article.
