My Drug of Choice

Am I the only one who feels that Wikipedia is like a combination of Cadbury Creme Eggs, sex, and heroine?  I am obsessed with knowing things.  I'm not all that concerned with the subject...I just want to know more about...well...stuff.  When I get on Wikipedia, I can literally spend hours just reading about the most random junk in the universe, and if I inexplicably run out of ideas, they actually have a "Random Article" button!

After spending only a few minutes on the site, here's my Google Chrome (no, I didn't join the Firefox bandwagon, suckas!) history.

1. Edward James Olmos - How could someone who looks like a cross between a pizza and a crocodile's rectum be in show business?

2. Battlestar Galactica - I like this show.  Maybe one day I'll have more money so I can buy more than 1.5 (not 2, but 1.5, the cheap punks) seasons.

3. Latino Public Broadcasting

4. Mr. Rogers' Neighborhood - He still scares me a little.  No one should be that calm and emotionless.

5. Reading Rainbow - Yes, please.

6. LeVar Burton - I thought he was blind for years.  Oh, what a tangled web we weave.

7. Star Trek: The Next Generation - The only good one, imho.  Shatner was terribad, and after Picard it turned into a soap opera.

8. Patrick Stewart - Best.  Voice.  EVARRR!!!

9. X-Men - Used to be so cool, until they had to change everything for the idiotic children of today.  Of course, I'm sure the same was said about...

10. Howdy Doody - Did you know they made a knock off?  Me neither:

11. La Hora de Jaudi Dudi - Presumably "The Howdy Doody Hour"  or possibly "The Whore of Jaundice and Fecal Matter".   Probably the former.

It is now 2:30 in the morning, and my typing woke up my wife.  She asked me what I'm doing.  I said "blogging."  She responded, "Well, how about sleeping, so I don't have to make myself a widow?"

I'll post this quickly, because I am in danger of being garroted with a pony-tail holder.

The Great Shift (or The Bathroom, the Penis, and the Napalm)

Well, I am in my final semester of my undergrad, and I am going to try my darndest to update more often, even if I'm only talking to myself.  Because I need to be able to express my somewhat strange (read: insane) ramblings, or I will end up including them in my term papers, which has not ended well in the past.  In addition, I have read over some of my past posts and they bored me.  And I'm the one who wrote them.  And I Like Me.  And if I don't enjoy reading them, it poses the question, "Why on this earth would anyone else want to read them?"

Having said that, I am going to spend more time talking about more interesting subjects (such as my own personal neuroses, things that make me laugh, things that I want to hit with something hard and blunt, etc.)

Now, on to the first post in my new world in which I embrace the purple elephants of my undiagnosed ADD and mold them into a new form that entertains you.



Do you remember the first time you had to use a public restroom as a kid, and your parent had to explain the rules?  In my case, my dad had to explain to me that public restrooms were not as clean as ours at home, so I shouldn't touch anything.  Then I had to figure out the urinal.  Holy crap, was that an ordeal.  When I finally realized what I was supposed to do, I couldn't stop laughing, because, to my infantile mind, whoever set this up actually wanted me to pee on the wall.  After I overcame my laughing fit and finished, I was mildly disappointed, which was business as usual.

I was reminiscing about this experience, and I had a thought.  When we use a public restroom, we all make sure to wash our hands especially well, because they're nasty, and we don't want to end up with gono-herpa-syphil-AIDS.  But what I just realized is that the most disgusting part of the bathroom (outside of the actual "pee on this" surfaces) is the handle of the urinal.  Why?  Because, right after the third shake, we zip up our pants and flush the toilet, with only a mere second or two separating hand/wang from hand/flushing-rod-thingie.  What the heck?  If I designed a bathroom, I'd have a concentrated beam of UV rays and possibly some sort of napalm delivery system installed directly in front of the urinal handle.

OR, more realistically, maybe some sort of flushie-handle condoms to put on it, so I don't end up grabbing 400 penises every time I flush.  I don't care that I'm about to wash my hands, I have a strong aversion to phalli.

Never Forgotten

Crushing heat, the stench goes on for days

Food is scarce, but the oppressive solitude

Wears far worse.

Hundreds of marks on the wall

Count the clock’s tireless journey.

You are not forgotten.

A mother’s glance happens upon a gold ribbon.

Tears spring to her eyes, unbidden,

Yet not unwelcome.

The father refuses to work on the car;

Restoration is not a solo project.

Sisters long for their protector, their friend.

You are not forgotten.

The young beauty, pledged for eternity

Yet only just begun

Has matched four years of bliss

With four of despair.

A babe’s first words are not “Dada,”

Because Dada is not known.

You are not forgotten

I am still alive...

I've just been busy with school and work.  I'm an English major (as you probably guessed), and I have to read several hundred pages per week for my classes that I get very little time to read what I desire.  This is why my posts have been..."erratic" (read: nonexistant) for the past month.

However, I will leave you with a Shakespearian quote and my take on it.

Once more unto the breach, dear friends, once more;
Or close the wall up with our English dead.
In peace there's nothing so becomes a man
As modest stillness and humility:
But when the blast of war blows in our ears,
Then imitate the action of the tiger;
Stiffen the sinews, summon up the blood,
Disguise fair nature with hard-favour'd rage;
Then lend the eye a terrible aspect;
Let pry through the portage of the head
Like the brass cannon; let the brow o'erwhelm it
As fearfully as doth a galled rock
O'erhang and jutty his confounded base,
Swill'd with the wild and wasteful ocean.
Now set the teeth and stretch the nostril wide,
Hold hard the breath and bend up every spirit
To his full height. On, on, you noblest English.
Whose blood is fet from fathers of war-proof!
Fathers that, like so many Alexanders,
Have in these parts from morn till even fought
And sheathed their swords for lack of argument:
Dishonour not your mothers; now attest
That those whom you call'd fathers did beget you.
Be copy now to men of grosser blood,
And teach them how to war. And you, good yeoman,
Whose limbs were made in England, show us here
The mettle of your pasture; let us swear
That you are worth your breeding; which I doubt not;
For there is none of you so mean and base,
That hath not noble lustre in your eyes.
I see you stand like greyhounds in the slips,
Straining upon the start. The game's afoot:
Follow your spirit, and upon this charge
Cry 'God for Harry, England, and Saint George!'


Henry V is an incredibly deep character, with both positive and negative traits.  This speech displays his ability to use emotional pleas to motivate his men (much like the politicians of today try to get votes, though in less flowery language).


First, let us set the stage.  Henry's army is laying siege to the city of Harfleur, and they are losing.  They have punched a hole in the wall surrounding the city, but every time they try to enter it they are repelled.  This city is vital for the continuance of the campaign against France, so Henry needs to rally his men and take the city.  He uses his exceptional speaking skills to play on their emotions and get them to attack once more.


The first thing Henry does is begin with "Once more unto the breach, dear friends", which puts them on his level.  He is saying that he is one of them, a soldier, not some ruler issuing commands.  He is calling his "buddies" to come with him, not commanding subjects to fight while he sits idly by, safe and sound (although that is exactly how it happens).  The entire speech is a Machiavellian manipulation of the soldier's emotions.


The second appeal is to their macho, manly side.  He compels his men to be as strong and ferocious as tigers.  He also tells them to "Stiffen up the sinews, summon up the blood" (an obvious reference to prove their masculinity).

Next he plays on their national and familial pride, saying "On, of you noblest English.  Whose blood is fet from fathers of war-proof."  He is basically telling his men to be patriotic and fight for their country as well as fighting to retain their family honor, saying that their fathers fought in wars past and are considered heroes, and if they do not continue the fight they will dishonor their family name.

Finally he makes a case that their cause is righteous and God is on their side, finishing with "...upon this charge Cry 'God for Harry, England, and Saint George!"  This is actually a summation of all his emotional pleas, because he refers to himself as "Harry" rather than "King Henry V", which reinforces his insinuation that they are all soldiers together.  Next, he brings the patriotism back through his reference to England.  Finally, he invokes the name of Saint George, the patron saint of England.  He is basically saying "God is with us, so how can we lose?"

"Harry" was one heck of a motivational speaker.

And, if you're interested in seeing the darker side, continue reading a little more into the play and you will come upon Henry's speech to the governor of Harfleur, in which he is trying to get them to surrender.  He says that if they don't, his men will take the city and then kill all the old people, rape all the women, skewer all the babies on pikes, and burn the city to the ground.  Not quite Dr. Phil anymore...

S.M. Stirling - Dies the Fire

Stirling's first work in the Emberverse series is, in a word, captivating.  The premise is that a worldwide event knocked out electricity and most forms of high-energy technology (such as gunpowder, steam pressure, etc.).  This throws the world into utter chaos, with over 90% of humanity dying off in the next few months.

The book follows two different groups: Mike Havel, an ex-marine, leads a group called The Bearkillers, initially a family of five, but quickly expanding.  Juniper Mackenzie is a wiccan musician who leads another group of survivors who become known as Clan Mackenzie.  The two groups form an alliance against the evil (insert ominous super-villan laughter) Norman Arminger who rules the Portland Protective Association, a feudalistic organization formed of the dregs of society, particularly gang members and criminals.  The book chronicles the lives of these groups from immediately before The Change (as the physics-rending event is known) and their quest for survival.

This is, as I said, the first book in the series, and I absolutely loved it.  Personally, I like more action than song, and a few of the Clan Mackenzie portions were a little slow for my taste, but it only served to provide contrast to the more interesting parts.  Stirling has managed to create a post-apocalyptic world that seems lifelike and vivid without the stereotypes found in many other authors' attempts.  The main characters are excellently crafted, the story is enthralling (I lost several hours of sleep because I completely lost track of time), and the writing is superb.  There are a few points that seem repetitive, but they are few and easily forgiven in such an extraordinary work.

I look forward to reviewing the rest of this series.

9.5/10

Vijeo Gamez

While researching for a paper I had to write for my Shakespeare class I came upon a realization: nearly every single person on the planet who has gone through high school has strong feelings about Shakespeare.  Many love him, but most hate him.  Even more interesting is the fact that the great majority of those who hate his works have not read them, but simply SparkNotes'd (yes, I made that a verb.  What now, sucka!?!) their way through an English test.

Why does our generation have such strong feelings about things which we do not know?  And I'm the worst of us all.  For the longest time I refused to participate in activities simply because of what a friend of a friend said about them.  I just recently began playing some tabletop games (yeah, I'm that big of a nerd), and I absolutely love them.  It's nice to sit down with a few friends and play a game during which we have actual, meaningful conversation.  For so long I just played video games with my friends, and the depth of conversation was "Dude, you just got pwned!"

I have been an admitted social troglodyte, happily minding my own business and expecting the same.  I had no idea what I was missing.  I home-schooled for much of my life, and I still feel somewhat socially awkward at times (though I can fake it with the best of them).  However, once I made a conscious decision to step out of my comfort zone and reach out to people around me I find them not to be the strange individuals I had once thought, but kind, caring, enjoyable people.

This may sound Sunday School-ish, but I would encourage anyone who reads this to find someone you know but don't know, some acquaintance yet not-friend and be a friend to them.  You may hit a wall (like those who reached out to me for so long), but you may make a great new friend, with wonderful new opportunities.

Ok, I've waxed optimistic for long enough.

Latah.

Y

John Scalzi - Old Man's War

Another wonderful debut novel is John Scalzi's Old Man's War.  In this tale of intergalactic warfare, Mr. Scalzi goes beyond the normal Heinlein-esque cliches of most recent Sci-fi novels.  Not that I have anything aginst Robert Heinlein, because I love the great majority of his works (although The Cat Who Walks Through Walls leaves much to be desired), but apparently many sci-fi writers subscribe to the "if it's worth doing, it's worth overdoing" mantra.  While Scalzi obviously got a great deal of inspiration from Heinlein, he goes above and beyond with the depth of his characters.  As beloved as Juan Rico is to me, John Perry has taken his throne.  While Rico was a great character who made the struggles of his life easily understandable, he was somewhat two-dimensional and unchanging, a trait not shared by Scalzi's protagonist.

The premise of Old Man's War is that, instead of recruiting armies from the young and inexperienced due to their physical prowess, a breakthrough technology that allows the transferring of one's consciousness into another body makes it possible to recruit the extremely old: just put them in new bodies.  These new bodies are cloned using their DNA, but are heavily modified to make them better warriors, such as increased strength and agility, more efficient blood (SmartBlood), etc.  The most important aspect is the BrainPal, a computer that is integrated directly into each recruit's brain, allowing them all sorts of abilities: storing information, communicating instantly among other BrainPal users, etc.  Basically, if you had an automated, intelligent Google in your head that actually answered your questions instead of giving you thinly-veiled porn links.

These new recruits go through boot camp and travel throughout the universe defending Earth's colonies from alien attack, as well as attacking hostile aliens and trying to take their colonies.  However, as the novel progresses, Perry's worldview (or universeview, I guess) begins to change as he confronts the reality they live in: everyone is constantly fighting everyone else, killing instead of finding diplomatic solutions.

I won't give away any more than I already have.  This is another book I highly recommend.  There are a few sequels that are also very good, especially The Last Colony.

9.5/10 - wonderful