Tuesday, April 05, 2005

Coolness Elsewhere....

Time for a grab-bag of linkage while I work on some other stuff:

:: Patrick of Fantasy Hotlist has an interview with writer L.E. Modesitt, Jr.

:: David Brooks says that liberals' problem is that they're not "philosophical" enough; Digby says he's full of bird poop. Advantage: Digby.

:: What's worse than a woman than having to endure a root canal? Having to endure a root canal while already pregnant. Oy. I can imagine the conversation that will ensue the first time Kellie's child, someday years hence, asks the fateful question, "What was it like when I was in your belly?"

:: Mr. Sun on this spring's TV lineup:

Diagnosis: Fervor. Randall Terry interviews various people and calls them butchers and murderers. Family-friendly.

Joan of AARP. Bea Arthur stars as a frightenting, nasty, strident old woman fighting against privatization of Social Security. Andy Griffith guest stars in steamy cameo as recently widowed Matlock.

Vatican Idol. You help pick the next pope. Simon: "If I'm being honest, you're just not holy enough."


:: GAAHHHH! Cute couple alert! Stop the cuteness! (Kidding aside, that's a nice picture. I love seeing what the faces behind the words in Blogistan look like.)

:: Darth Swank reviews Sin City.

:: John Scalzi has lost a cat. Condolences to him and his family. The major downside to living with cats is that you inevitably lose them. It's therefore a good thing that the major upside to living with cats is, well, living with cats.

How long can THIS keep up?

Michelle is posting again. I keep wishing she'd move into Blogistan full-time, since she is (a) a big Star Wars fan and (b) smarter than me.

(But really, comparing reading Byzantium's Shores to eating marshmallow Peeps? That's the best simile someone as well read as Michelle could come up with? Ewwwwwwwww! But, a compliment's a compliment, and I'm blushing now. Which reminds me, that's another benefit of beards -- they conceal blushing, somewhat. Of course, that benefit is rendered inoperative if one's blushing is also accompanied by waving one's hands in front of one's face and going, "Oh, nnooooo...", but luckily, I never do that. (A claim which I can make since, to my knowledge, none of my coworkers read this blog.))

Most...addictive...game...ever....

Slickball. This thing is freaking evil. Imagine Marble Madness, but apparently with Myst-like gizmos that have to be activated before you can make progress. At least I think that's what's going on here, since I kept dying very early in the damn game.

AGGGHHHHH!!!

Exploring the CD Collection, #11

Star Wars Episode IV: A New Hope
original score composed and conducted by John Williams
performed by the London Symphony Orchestra

(This is the first post in what should end up being a series of six posts in a mini-sequence within the ongoing "Exploring the CD Collection" series. If all goes according to plan, there will be six of these when I'm done, culminating sometime in May with my thoughts on the score to Episode III: Revenge of the Sith. I will be listening anew to each score in the Star Wars series and posting thoughts on those listenings.)

I can remember a time in my life when the music from Star Wars was not a big part of things, but that time in my life is really brief, being confined to my first six years. John Williams's Star Wars music isn't the first music that I remember, but it's the first orchestral music I distinctly remember. (My pre-SW memories are a mishmash of country and Broadway stuff, a lot of which I have come to love dearly as I explore those areas.)

The film opened when I was five, but since we didn't get to see it until the fall of 1977 (or late summer), I might well have been six by the time we saw it. Or maybe I was still five, since my birthday is in September. Ach well, who knows. Anyway, being a dumb-ass first grader, I didn't like it the first time I saw it - - in fact, I actually fell asleep watching it, and I didn't start to grok Star Wars until my sister basically wore me down with her own enthusiasm for it. I agreed to go see it again with her, and that was that. I've carried the mortal wound ever since.

Shortly thereafter, in a record store in Portland, Oregon (where we lived at the time), my older sister bought the soundtrack album. It was a double-LP release in a gatefold cover in black with a giant Star Wars logo on front and a big picture of Darth Vader on the back, if memory serves. My sister played the hell out of those two records, and a few years later when her own Star Wars fandom subsided, she gave them to me. Strangely, though, she gave them to me after I had bought my first record with my own money, from my own allowance: the soundtrack to The Empire Strikes Back, so I actually didn't get to know the music from Star Wars really, really well until after I already knew the music from TESB really, really well.

Anyway, I played those records into the ground for a while, and then my musical interests went in other directions, and I didn't return to SW all that often, except as mood-music for when I sat around late at night writing my grand bit of SW fanfic. College came, and I stopped listening to SW entirely, until I bought that OST album on cassette. Truth to tell, I did not own any SW music on CD until late 1993, when a 4-disc boxed set of music from the films was released. I still own that set, and though I rarely play it anymore in favor of the 1997 deluxe CDs released in conjunction with the Special Editions, it occupies a place of honor on my CD shelf and I'll probably insist that it be buried with me when I fall under a Sith lightsaber.

And of course I have ripped the SW scores to my hard drive for easy, point-and-click listening when I want. So I've heard the scores (of the original trilogy, at least) on LP, cassette, one CD release, then another CD release, and as MP3s on my hard drive. That's devotion, folks.

As I've become older and as I've learned more and more about music, I've still returned occasionally to the Star Wars scores, which have become old, reliable friends to me. Playing them every so often gives me a feeling not unlike listening to a Beethoven Symphony after months of, well, other stuff: there's something relieving about coming back to a long-known masterpiece after a long while of playing new music, other music, music that might be as good but not as well known. And the experience almost always finding something new in John Williams's work.

So, what shall I say about this, the first-ever score to a Star Wars movie? Much has been written about Williams's use of the leitmotif method in his music for these films (including this post of mine), so I don't have anything new to add on that front. What struck me on this listen was the way some of Williams's prime compositional influences can be detected, but not in the way that people usually claim.

It seems to me that a lot of the standard clichés about John Williams's work don't really apply. To mention just two: The orchestration in a couple of very brief spots within the score really does sound like Holst's "Mars: The Bringer of War" from The Planets, and a couple of bits of action music - - notably in the Death Star escape sequences - - have a Korngold-esque sound. Williams blatantly blends a Korngold-esque march in the Throne Room scene with an Elgarian one, and there are more modernistic moments during the Tatooine scenes that hark back to Stravinsky. Williams combines a lot of styles in this score, so much so that he's often accused of doing "pastiche" at best or simply ripping off his forebears at worst. I don't think that either claim does justice to his work here.

Williams, it is true, has never been much of an innovator. His is a musical voice that looks backward rather than forward. For some that is a criticism, but it's always been that way: while Wagner was breaking musical boundaries all over the place, his contemporary Brahms was staunchly looking back to classical form. While Stravinsky was causing riots with The Rite of Spring, Rachmaninov was looking back to the height of Russian Romanticism. Many other examples abound. What John Williams has always done is blend disparate elements into a unique musical voice (and it is unique: to the experienced ear with this music, John Williams is as instantly recognizable a composer as you'll find).

As far as I am concerned, two remarkable sequences of music in Star Wars: ANH show where Williams breaks free of simple pastiche into something all his own. The music underscoring the dogfight between the Millennium Falcon and the four TIE fighters takes on a punching sound that stands apart from the rest of the score, nearly perfectly mirroring the rapid-fire editing of the sequence. When Roger Ebert once asked George Lucas to pick a "signature shot" from one of his films to represent what he is as a filmmaker, Lucas picked the entirety of this sequence, since he values editing above all else. There are few action sequences I've seen that more perfectly blend editing with the music.

The other such sequence comes during the Battle of Yavin (the Rebels' attack on the Death Star). The battle as a whole features some very thrilling music, some of it militaristic, some of it not. The score in this sequence does so much to add to the kinetic energy as the fighters first leave the Yavin moon and then pick up speed as they attack the Death Star, but that's not the part that always stands out for me. For a score often derided as being merely derivative, the passage that leads up to Darth Vader's shooting down Biggs stands out, as muted trumpets peal out dissonant chords over screaming strings and woodwinds that provide rhythm. That passage, brief as it is, always makes me shiver, and it's a passage that I've yet to find presaged in Korngold, Herrmann, or anywhere else.

Of course, all of that would be irrelevant if John Williams did not possess an extraordinary gift for melody. In addition to the Star Wars Main Theme, which is probably the most famous single cinematic melody of the last thirty years, the score also boasts Leia's Theme and Ben Kenobi's Theme, both of which are benchmark themes of the overall saga, almost instantly recognizable as Star Wars music - - in fact, what was originally Ben Kenobi's Theme has become more of a "Light Side of the Force" motif as the saga has developed through the years.

Star Wars is one of the warhorses of the film music world, and with good reason.

Next week: The Empire Strikes Back.

Shaving is for the weak!

Via MeFi I saw this article about "wet shaving" yesterday. Apparently, to get a really good shave, you're supposed to make sure your whiskers are good and moist by at least wetting them with a hot, wet towel or by waiting to shave until after showering. And you're supposed to use a brush made from badger hair to apply high-quality shaving lotion. And you're supposed to use a high-quality razor, as opposed to a disposable. And you're supposed to...ach, screw it. Just do what I did: Grow a beard. I've never found that the beard is any more "itchy" than my face was when I shaved regularly -- in fact, it's a good deal less itchy, except for when I trim its edges slightly, and when I do that, the itchiness lasts only a couple of hours. I keep the beard trimmed fairly close, but this affects the beard, not the skin of my face, which remains nicely itch-free. That's what it's mainly about, as are nearly all of my fashion decisions: comfort. I don't have any great theory that my beard makes me look particularly masculine, but I have the factual knowledge that it spares me a particularly irritating morning ritual.

(Well, OK, I do have the wistful hope that my combinbation of long hair and beard makes me look like a cast extra from The Lord of the Rings. But at least I admit that the hope is wistful.)

By the way, apparently some guy decided that he wanted to test the idea that a beard keeps one's face warmer in winter, by shaving off half of his beard. That someone would willingly go through a winter looking like that in the name of science either speaks well of science, or poorly of that someone.

Sunday, April 03, 2005

And now I'll bludgeon your childhood to death with a tire iron....

Geez. Somehow, Byzantium's Shores is the number three result for "George Lucas raped my childhood". Suck it, fanboys. I'm the original fanboy. Pinheads. Take your Matrix and your Batman and suck cold, hard Death.

OK, I think that's out of my system. Move along!

Stuff to read....

It's the first Sunday of the month, which means that a new chapter is up over at The Promised King. It's Chapter Seven, for those of you who aren't keeping count. Go read!

IMAGE OF THE WEEK

In a first for planetary astronomers, a photograph has been captured of a planet orbiting a distant star:


Details here.

(Oh, and boo, hiss!)

SHHHHH!

Scott Spiegelberg has a fascinating post about the "quietest room on Earth", a specially-designed "anechoic chamber" in a sound laboratory in the Twin Cities area. This kind of thing is just fascinating.

I can't tell you what the quietest room on Earth sounds like, but here's what it looks like. Which makes me think that Aaron and Krista may want to look into renting that room out once in a while, since now they have their "Little Screamer"....

Sunday Burst of Weirdness (Ten-Year-Old Humor Edition)

OK, I admit it, I was in a very juvenile mood late the other night and it suddenly occured to me that after the debut of products like the iPod and the iShuffle and parodies like the iProduct, I wondered what I wound find if I used Google to search for, well, naughty words with an 'i' stuck on the front.

Which is how I found this. Sadly, the site isn't functional now, but there's enough there that I know I'd be there a-clinking away if it was. There really are times when the sound of a flushing toilet is just about the funniest thing in the Universe.

(No, it's probably not safe for work. Duh. Yes, I'm ashamed of my flirtation with Beavis and Butthead humor here, and promise to look for weirdness next week that's more reflective of my adult nature. Or something like that. Hey, "doodies"!)

Well, that was sure a nice two months....

The resident objectivist weirdo has returned to the FilmScoreMonthly message boards, as is his wont -- he goes away for a month or two, and then returns for a spate of posting in which he acts deliberately confrontational in a bizarre rite of self-validation or something. Anyway, in a thread devoted to the passing of Pope John Paul II, one particularly annoying poster weighs in thusly:

I know I'm gonna get rapped in the outh for this but:

DO YOU REALLY BELIEVE THERE IS A GOD?

Come on for Pete's sake, what on Earth gives you faith in this out dated premise?

The Pope was a man, just as you or I are. That's all we can ever be. He is not with God, just as all his life, God was not with him.


(Keep in mind that a fairly rigidly-enforced rule on the FSM boards is that even in the off-topic forum, discussion of politics and religion is forbidden. Expressing sympathy or mourning for the Pope is OK by the rules, discussing or attacking the Catholic faith is not.)

Now, that's enough of a rude slap in the face to begin with, but luckily for us, Our Objectivist Hero is not to be outdone:

Not from me. Beyond what you wrote, religionists such as the Pope stand for self-sacrifice and earthly suffering. That they do so based on faith [literally non-sense] is profane--and exposes them as moral charlatans.


Yet another example of why I refuse to truck with Objectivists -- with one notable exception, every single Objectivist I have ever encountered thinks nothing of behaving like this. They've got all the answers, and by gum they're going to offer those answers without regard for anything so prosaic as simple manners. Just change their Holy Book from Atlas Shrugged to a Bible, and they're almost like Jehovah's Witnesses.

One last thing....

...about the Terri Schiavo thing. I wrote here that there have been questionable moral choices made on each side of the dispute, and I still believe that. But where I can see the moral logic behind most of the choices made on each side, even if I don't agree with them, I just can't understand Michael Schiavo's insistence on cremation and burial of Terri Schiavo far away from her parents. That just seems spiteful to me.

Spread the bloggy love!

Read anything particularly good in Blogistan lately? Then consider submitting the link to what you read to the "Smarter Than I" Carnival, for just that reason. The only rule seems to be that you can't submit your own stuff, which seems perfectly reasonable. He's taking submissions until tomorrow at 3:00 Pacific Time, so pick out a particularly good post from some blog and send it in.

Link via PZ Myers.

The Count of Monty Crisco

Today's Buffalo News has a nifty profile of character actor William Sadler, who has appeared in tons of movies and has shown lots of range -- he was the main bad guy in Die Hard 2 and the convict Haywood in The Shawshank Redemption (the one with the slight stutter who correctly picks which one of the "new fish" will break down in tears in the film's first, but not last, truly memorable scene). Check it out. (Sadler is a WNY native, by the way, hailing from Orchard Park. Which also happens to be my current stomping grounds. Coolness abounds in Buffalo!)

UPDATE: The profile of Sadler has a sidebar listing some of his prominent roles. The description of his Shawshank character makes me wonder just how well Jeff Simon remembers the movie, but there it is. And in its usual clod-like fashion when it comes to its Web operation, the Buffalo News doesn't link the sidebar from the main article on the site. Come on, guys. You could get a tech-savvy fourteen-year-old to put your paper's website together better than this.

Springtime in Buffalo, revisited

The other day I wrote about how spring is Buffalo's worst season. Lest anyone care to dispute me on this point, let me present photographic proof. This is the view that greeted us outside our living room window on this fine April Sunday morning:


That's a gorgeous view on, say, November 10. On April 3, not so much.

Can I get the Giant Hurt Ball with extra hurt?

The following is a transcript of a customer service call once fielded in a call center in a galaxy far, far away.

OPERATOR: Good morning! Thank you for calling the Geonosis Spaceyards Customer Service Hotline. This is Operator THX-1138 speaking. How can I help you today?

CALLER: I am calling about a recent purchase I made.

OPERATOR: Are you reporting a problem with your purchase, sir?

CALLER: I am.

OPERATOR: And may I have your Account Number, sir?

CALLER: It is UIY-2249.

OPERATOR: Thank you. Please wait while I bring up your account. (typing on keyboard heard) Ah, yes. I see you bought the Eludium-Q Spherical Space Habitat, and that you chose the Extra Armor Plating option. Very good, sir. Was there a problem with your Spherical Space Habitat, sir?

CALLER: Yes.

OPERATOR: Can you describe the nature of the problem, sir?

CALLER: It exploded.

OPERATOR: I'm sorry, sir. Did you say that your Spherical Space Habitat exploded?

CALLER: The destruction was complete.

OPERATOR: That's odd. Our Spherical Space Habitats are not supposed to explode. May I inquire as to what system your Habitat was in when it exploded, sir? If it was located in one of the Hazardous Systems as listed in the Instruction Manual for your Habitat, we are not liable for damages, as noted in Section 94, Volume 18, Paragraph 6-b of the Imperial Code.

CALLER: It was orbiting the planet Yavin.

OPERATOR: Yavin? Let me look that system up, sir. (more clicking of a computer keyboard) Ah, Yavin. Gaseous giant planet, but no known natural hazards listed on our database. Very odd...just a minute, there's another note here. Please hold.

(Music plays for about a minute.)

OPERATOR: Sir, I see that the planet Yavin was recently the scene of a battle between the Imperial Starfleet and the Rebel Alliance. Surveillance craft have reported a significant amount of debris in the system, and a large amount of residual radiation. I am going to have to get my Supervisor, sir. Please hold.

(More music plays as the caller is put on hold.)

SUPERVISOR: Good morning, Sir. I am Supervisor TK-421. I have just accessed the private information on your account, that your first Operator was unable to read. How are you today, Senator Palpatine?

CALLER: I am Emperor now, and I dissolved the Senate.

SUPERVISOR: Ah. I will change that information on your account, and may I say, congratulations on your promotion! Now, I am told that your Spherical Space Habitat experienced a catastrophic immolation event while orbiting the planet Yavin. Now sir, I have to ask this question for legal reasons: were you using your Spherical Space Habitat in any of the ways listed in the Instruction Manual as being unrecommended?

CALLER: I didn't read that page.

SUPERVISOR: Ah. Senator, I mean, Emperor, you really should read the instructions on all major purchases before use. On Page 9,842 of the Manual you will find a list of Unrecommended Uses for a Spherical Space Habitat. Such uses include: Transport Vehicle for Performing Popular Musicians, Transport Vehicle for Dangerous Creatures, Hunting Lodge, Space Slug Attractor Device, Spice Smuggling, Temple for Hutt Worship, and Intimidating Battle Station. Can I assume, sir, that you attempted to use your Spherical Space Habitat as an Intimidating Battle Station?

CALLER: I did.

SUPERVISOR: Ah, I see. Now, the good news, sir, is that we have recently completed design work on our Spherical Space Habitat 2.0, which can be used as an Intimidating Battle Station.

CALLER: Are all the thermal exhaust ports fully shielded now?

SUPERVISOR: They are, sir. That's the main difference. That and the chairs are cushier. Since you are a preferred customer, I can offer you a special discount on a Spherical Space Habitat 2.0, complete with Green Ray of Death Blast Cannon. And since you're one of our better customers, I am prepared to offer you, free of extra charge, an Intimidating Throne Room atop a high tower with a commanding view of your Space Habitat's surface, and Demon-Drop Bottomless Shaft overlooking your Habitat's Reactor Core. Can I interest you in that today, sir?

CALLER: Yes. I will take one.

SUPERVISOR: Excellent! And to what system would you like that delivered, sir?

CALLER: Endor.

SUPERVISOR: Excellent choice, sir. Let me type this all in. (more typing goes on) And how will you be paying for this, sir?

CALLER: Paying?

SUPERVISOR: Yes, sir. As I noted, your use of your Spherical Space Habitat 1.0 as a Battle Station voids your warranty, and you are not eligible for free replacement.

CALLER: My discount will be one hundred percent.

SUPERVISOR: Now sir, I can't do that, I'm sorry to say.

CALLER: My discount will be one hundred percent.

SUPERVISOR: Sir, as I said, I cannot authorize that.

CALLER: Oh, really?

SUPERVISOR: I'm sorry, sir. But I am offering you a substantial discount and…er…ack…sir, I am having trouble breathing. Uh...er...ACK!...can I please...get...ACCCKKK!...another...operator...GASSSSPP! (sounds of unintelligible wheezing, followed by a crunching of bone and something large slumping to the floor)

SUPERVISOR #2: Ummm...hello, sir. I am Supervisor TK-422. Let me just review the information my predecessor put in for you. (whispering to someone else) Get him out of here before he smells! (to CALLER) Uh, sir, you know what, it wouldn't have been that hard for us to throw in shielding for those thermal exhaust ports on the first one. I apologize for the inconvenience, and your new habitat is on us. Will that be all right, sir?

CALLER: For today, yes. Don't make me call you for a third one of these.

SUPERVISOR: We won't, sir. And you know what, since you've been such a great customer, I'm going to throw in for no extra charge an energy shield that we will put in place around your new Spherical Space Habitat 2.0 while we are building it. Trust me, nothing will get through and threaten your new Space Habitat 2.0! You can live by the Geonosis Guarantee.

CALLER: I hope so...for your sake.

(Click as call ends)

LESSON: The customer may not always be right, but he just may have the ability to choke you to death from the other side of the Galaxy.

(EDITOR'S NOTE: Yes, there will be a lot of gratuitous and geeky stuff like this between now and the end of May.)

Saturday, April 02, 2005

Is this like how Olivier and Kenneth Branagh made movies using the same script?

This is funny. I got a big kick out of yesterday's Get Fuzzy, but since I don't usually read Fox Trot, I had no idea that both strips used virtually the same script yesterday. I assume this was an April Fool's day thing, and it's the kind of April Fool's thing I like, in that it's not based on being mean or embarrassing to another person. It reminds me of a more widespread funnies-page April Fool's joke, the Great April Fool's Switcheroonie, when a number of strips were drawn by the artists of some other strip (for instance, Hagar the Horrible drawn by the guy who draws Non Sequitur). Very clever.

(For my money, the joke used yesterday in Get Fuzzy and Fox Trot is funnier as a Get Fuzzy joke. It's probably the use of the word "piehole" that does it.)

Me Ho, you Jane?

I confess that even though I consider myself a good liberal, I've never much liked Jane Fonda. I've enjoyed a few of her performances -- Nine to Five, mostly, although they could have cast anyone in that third-wheel of a role, seeing as how Lily Tomlin and Dolly Parton are pretty much the whole show (well, them and Dabney Coleman) and On Golden Pond, pretty much -- but as my dislike of her basically stems from those annoying workout videos of hers, the fact that she appointed herself head-cheerleader when the Atlanta Braves (for a short while the Greatest Force for Evil in American Sports, before that title went back to the Dallas Cowboys and thence to the New England Stupid Patriots) were beating my beloved Pittsburgh Pirates two damn years in a row in the National League Championship Series, and that little jaunt she took to North Vietnam. Granted, I was all of two or something when she did that, but it's not one of those things that has a statute of limitations, you know?

All of which is preamble to linking this purported index to Ms. Fonda's upcoming book, which I found hilarious. Check it out. Link via BookSlut.

A growing economy? Just two hours down I-90....

I'd really like to start being able to link stories like this about Buffalo one of these days, but for now, it's heartening for Upstate New Yorkers to see that Syracuse continues to demonstrate healthy job growth coupled with a decline in public-sector jobs. They continue to lost manufacturing jobs, but that's the only part of their private sector that's still bleeding jobs. So, why isn't anyone amongst Buffalo's "power elite" taking notice and wondering what Syracuse is doing that we aren't? Whenever we hear about someplace else in Upstate New York, it's invariably something along the lines of "Here's how things are in Rochester, and they're doing bad too". Well, it's another hour past Rochester to Syracuse. Let's see what they're doing, since their bag of tricks seems to actually be working.

In other Buffalo-related stuff, Craig took a walk around the Elmwood strip recently -- I really need to get to Elmwood more often -- and he took a number of pictures of development going on there. I particularly like that the new Lexington Co-op is being built right up to the sidewalk, preserving Elmwood's walkability factor. (And looking at the first photo in Craig's post, I note again that Buffalo's tallest and most prominent building is also the dullest-looking damn building in our skyline. Lord. Let me know, readers: do any of you live in cities where your most prominent building looks as bad as ours?)

Who will be the next death watch?

Is anyone besides me getting tired of the constant morbid stuff headlining the news lately? For something like the last two weeks (and probably more), the number one and number two stories on the evening news have been the Terri Schiavo death watch and the Pope John Paul II death watch, or vice versa. It seems kind of weird that for a "Culture of Life", we're awfully focused on death. (But then, an end to both stories will probably herald a return to Top Story Status of the damn Michael Jackson trial. Maybe it's time to just stop watching the news altogether.)

Anyway, James Wolcott and Matthew Yglesias point out that inevitably the passing of the Pope will be politicized -- in fact, James points out that FOX News already tried doing so, but had to stop the revolution seeing as how at that point the Pope wasn't, you know, actually dead. If the Right does seize upon John Paul II as a great fallen conservative leader, I wonder how they'll explain things like his steadfast condemnation of the Iraq war. Yes, the Pope was anti-abortion and anti-homosexual, but he had other beliefs that line up more with the Left than with the Right. So I guess we're in for a lot of cherry-picking from the man's life. I can't wait.

(For the record, I'm not Catholic and am generally ambivalent about John Paul II in particular and the Papacy in general. I dislike a lot of the positions he took, and I generally find the whole idea of the position of Pontiff to be a bit odd, especially after my readings of history which indicate that more than a few Popes weren't so much chosen by God as chosen by particularly strong European monarchs.)

Yesterday at The Store, the cafe TV was as always tuned to FOX News, and I caught one bit of hilarity while I was eating lunch. Some talking head was describing a time when John Paul II held a Mass at Shea Stadium in New York City. The FOX talking head went on to describe Shea Stadium as a baseball stadium, "but not the one where the Yankees play...there's another baseball team that plays there, uh...." Luckily for the FOX talking head, someone was able to lean over and supply him with the name of that other New York baseball team.

Friday, April 01, 2005

Surely you're joking, Mr. Feynman!

Wow, is this ever cool: an MP3 directory of lectures by the late Richard Feynman, a legendary figure in late-20th century science in general and physics and particular (as well as safecracking). I'd love to see more of this kind of thing on the Web.

(via Mr. Modulator)

Western NY: Great for Kids!

If you're not raising your children in the Buffalo Niagara region, then you're a bad parent. Take that, all you parents from Kansas City!

Jen and Alan provide details on the great things there are to do with kids in this area. I have some favorites, myself.

In terms of restaurants, Buffalo has a ton of family-friendly eating establishments. Favorites of ours include Pizza Plant in Williamsville (where, in addition to crayons, the kid can get a wad of pizza dough to play with while waiting for food) and Taffy's in our own hometown of Orchard Park. Taffy's is just your basic burgers-and-ice cream joint, but it's situated on one of the Southtowns' busier intersections, so it makes for good car-watching, and its seating consists of a whole bunch of those covered picnic benches that "rock" back and forth on two tracks. Fun place.

In terms of Buffalo shopping malls, the Galleria is the big one, and it's got plenty of stores of interest to kids. The Boulevard Mall in Amherst is a bit better for small kids, since it has a carousel and an enclosed play area that has a bunch of play-items made out of this shiny-rubber stuff. This area in the food court is always packed with kids. (Of course, none of Buffalo's malls approaches Syracuse's Carousel Center, which is still the best mall I've ever been in short of the Mall of America itself.)

The region's best-kept secret, as far as free places to take the kids is concerned, has to be the Charles Burchfield Nature and Art Center on Union Road in West Seneca. This is a wonderful little park, partly dedicated to the art of Charles Burchfield (a prominent water-colorist who lived in West Seneca for a time), a beautiful set of park slides, and a set of nature trails that wind back into some surprisingly dense woods and down to the side of Cayuga Creek, whose water is generally shallow enough for wading (in late summer, the water gets so low you can wade all the way across and not get wet past your knees) and swift enough to be fun to throw or skip rocks. This is one of our absolute favorite spots in the area -- and it's completely free to go there. Give it a shot, folks. On a warm day, bring a picnic lunch. You'll be glad you did.

April Fool's Day, gone horribly awry

Lynn Sislo links The Worst April Fool's Day Hoaxes Ever, some of which are truly eye-popping in their awfulness. What struck me is that a couple of them were perpetrated by officials or affiliates of Saddam Hussein's regime. Looking at the apparent sense of humor that existed within that regime, a lot of stuff about recent Iraqi history starts to become clear.

Here's Number Ten:

On April 1, 2003, as thousands of American-led coalition troops stormed across Iraq, the Iraqi ambassador to Russia, Abbas Khalaf Kunfuth, held a press conference in Moscow. Many were expecting him to announce that Iraq conceded defeat. Instead Kunfuth chose this moment to hold a gag press conference. Holding up a piece of paper that he identified as a news flash from Reuters, he read aloud from it: "The Americans have accidentally fired a nuclear missile into British forces, killing seven." Immediately the room full of reporters went silent with shock. Then Kunfuth grinned and shouted 'April Fools!' Only a few days after this unexpected moment of levity, the Iraqi government completely collapsed.


Read the rest. And here's a list of more successful April Fool's Day pranks.

Springtime in Buffalo (and a Little Quinn update)

We had a couple of days of nicely temperate weather here in Buffalo this week, with temps in the upper 50s and even into the 60s yesterday. We cooled off a bit today, but it was still pleasant. What always gets me about Spring in Buffalo is the way everybody gets so hopeful on the very first day that the mercury hits the 60 mark that Spring is actually here, that it will stay warm, that snow is officially done, that it's time to plant without fear of frost, et cetera. And those hopes always come, despite the fact that those hopes are always dashed.

The sad fact is that Spring is Buffalo's worst season, by far.

That may sound counterintuitive, referring to a city legendary (and unfairly so) for bad winters, but as I and many other Buffalonians have noted many times, our winters aren't that bad (in fact, they're routinely not even the worst winters in Upstate New York), and besides, we expect winter to be a lot of snow and cold. I really wish we'd embrace our winters and market them better, in fact. We know what's coming each year, and we're generally fine with it.

Our summers are very nice as well: the humidity, while higher than, say, Arizona's, never really reaches the level of elemental dampness that afflicts the northeastern coastal cities like New York, Boston, and Philadelphia; and in all the years that records have been kept, we've never hit one hundred degress in Buffalo. Not once. Lake Erie, which brings us lots of snow in early winter, also makes for really nice summers. (And our sunsets are wonderful.)

Autumn in Western New York, though, is simply spectacular. Seriously, this is the best place in the United States to pass an October, as far as I am concerned. It gets cooler, but not unbearably so; the hills turn color slower than they do in the heights of Vermont and stay stunning for a bit longer. We ease our way gently and pleasantly toward winter here.

So, we have three great seasons. Spring, though, is a climatological train wreck here. It tends to be very rainy, very gray, very cool to downright cold, and it's not at all unusual to get snow well into April. Our springs are so dank that the trees don't begin to leaf until the very end of April, and it's late May before the hills are green again. The ground goes from frozen to muddy, and it stays muddy pretty mugh right up until summer. It's like we endure two months of miserable, dreary weather -- and then all of a sudden one day it's summer, just like that. And yet, when we get two or three unseasonably warm days at the end of March, everyone suddenly starts hoping that it'll stay that way, that this will be the year that Spring in Buffalo doesn't suck. In baseball terms, we're Cubs fans when it comes to Spring.

So anyway, we had the opportunity to take a bit of a stroll the other day, as well as allowing The Daughter to try out her new scooter. She did better on it than I thought she would, since she tends to high levels of klutziness. She didn't fall a single time, although there were more than a few instances in which she got going slightly faster than she wanted to and then jumped off and lurched to something resembling a stop. Here she is, posing on the new device:


As for Little Quinn, we're looking forward to taking him out in the stroller more often. After he fell seriously behind in his growth a while back -- at one point he was over four pounds less than what he should have been at that age -- he's been putting on weight at last, and the constant parade of specialists has finally produced a couple of answers and solutions to particularly vexing problems. He's on valium now (as a muscle relaxant), which has the effect of making it easier for his physical and occupational therapists to do their work with him, which can only in turn help his development. Also, the respiratory issues he was having for a long time turn out to be something called "stridor", which also seems to have caused his problems with digestion, excessive gas, and reflux. The good news there is that we are told that the vast majority of infants with this particular problem outgrow it, and we are hopeful on that score, as already Little Quinn seems to be getting stronger and his spells of harsh breathing are becoming less frequent and less intense.

Here's how Little Quinn as he looked in my arms the other day, while The Daughter scooted about on The Scooter:


He seems to like being outside. And here's a good close-up of his face, just because I can:


Onward and upward....

GAHHH!!!

Go and bear witness to PZ Myers's taste in music, and then explain to me anew how it is that he thinks that I look like an axe-murderer. Jee-bus.

(Scary thing is, I do like three of the songs he lists therein, but only as "guilty pleasures". No, I'm not telling which three. Yes, I am highly hopeful that Dr. Myers's post is one of them "April Fools" thingies, because if it's not, well...let's just say that perhaps it's time someone removed all the cutlery from his home.)

Wednesday, March 30, 2005

[Crickets chirping]

I see by touring around Blogistan that Blogger has had some problems the last day or two, which suits me all right since I've been genuinely too busy to post much. I just have a couple of goofball observations for today:

:: I don't want to know what the goal of this search was. I really don't.

:: I really really really hate the song "The Girl from Ipanema". No, I don't know why.

:: I just watched the new ABC private eye/caper show Eyes, whose pilot I found immensely entertaining and witty despite the lousy title. I've always liked Tim Daly, and the show features the return of A.J. Langer, an actress I've liked since My So-Called Life (Lord, ten years since that great show aired....)

:: The West Wing started this season incredibly weakly, but it's gradually gotten a lot better and now it's humming right along, except for the bit where they posit a pro-choice Republican winning his party's Presidential nomination. Well, the show's still a fantasy.

:: Yeah, that's it for today. Thanks for checking in, and not droning off to sleep upon reading this.

It was the doctor in the hospice with a candlestick.

PZ Myers links this entertaining transcript of an interchange between TV "journalist" Joe Scarborough and one of the doctors who examined Terri Schiavo. Scarborough basically gets his head handed to him on every single matter of fact he mentions, but I found this exchange particularly annoying:

SCARBOROUGH: You were there 42 minutes, Doctor.

CRANFORD: Yes, I was.

SCARBOROUGH: You are only one doctor that's been there. And somehow, in your 42 minutes of observing her, you have all the answers and everybody that disagrees is dead wrong, I guess.


If anyone can produce a comparable transcript wherein Scarborough displays a similar amount of skepticism toward Senator Bill Frist's ability to diagnose Ms. Schiavo without seeing her in person at all, I will eat my hat*.

* That's a figurative promise, as I do not own a hat.

Tuesday, March 29, 2005

This must not stand!

Via Michael Lopez I see that some high-school kids have been caught red-handed with a secret hideaway.

Maybe they're just re-enacting their favorite scenes from That 70s Show, and the hideaway is their "set" for Red Foreman's basement. Yeesh.

Commence with the Raising of Glasses!

Well, if the birth of Elsa Ann doesn't give Krista cause to start showing her years -- hell, any years at all past eighteen, which is when I think she basically stopped aging -- I don't know what will.

But in any event, get thee hence to congratulate new father Aaron and new mother Krista on the arrival of little Elsa. Aaron and Krista are two of the finest people it's been my immense privelege to number among my friends, and I have little doubt that they're going to raise that beautiful baby into a lovely woman who will have really good musical taste and will take basically zero shit from anybody.

And remember what Toby Ziegler said to his newly-born twins. Babies are all right, because they come with hats.

Sunday, March 27, 2005

IMAGE OF THE WEEK

Well, this is probably a new low for the Image of the Week: mining the Sunday funnies. But I've come to really love Get Fuzzy, and since we share our domicile with a particularly dumb cat, today's entry struck me squarely on the funny bone. So here it is.

Trust No One! (and the Burst of Weirdness)

Via DPS, I see that David Duchovny is now blogging, and he seems to type a lot like he delivers dialogue. Look at the bulk of this post: one big chunk of text, without capital letters. It's like what Agent Mulder's FBI reports must have read like! (I wonder if that's the real reason they assigned Agent Scully to work with him -- his superiors were tired of reading his reports.)

And if you have any doubt that this is really David Duchovny doing the blogging, well, this audio post kind of settles it.

Which brings me to my Burst of Weirdness for this week: Rosie O'Donnell's blog. I can't make that up, folks, but if I had to envision a Rosie O'Donnell-authored blog, I'd have envisioned a "stream-of-consciousness incomprehensibility" format, which is exactly what she delivers. (OK, I admit it, when Rosie first started her daytime talk show, I fell for her "air of niceness", since it was really a genuinely nice little Merv Griffin-esque talk show. But then she started turning overly political and mean, and once the show was off the air, she just turned back into the weird shrieking harpy. I think she started seriously going around the bend when she had Tom Selleck on to presumably allow him to promote some new TV movie or something, and instead attacked him for being in the NRA.)

The first rule of Road-Runner is, you don't talk about Road-Runner....

If it ever seemed like the Road-Runner versus Wile E. Coyote cartoons followed their own rigid internal logic, well, you're right.

(via Warren Ellis)

Committing Meme-theft

Paul of Aurora Walking Vacation has a goofy-looking meme up here. As he explains it:

The idea is to pick a blogger who's journal you regularly read and make up ten things that you suppose could be true about that blogger. They don't have to actually be true. They don't have to be supported by any specific evidence. They just have to sound plausible based on what you know about that blogger. Just, you know, be nice.


Well, that just sounds like one of those fun things that could become terribly non-fun if a certain line is crossed, and that's right up my alley! But I'm going to change the rules slightly: Instead of doing ten things that could be true about a single blogger, I'm going to come up with one thing that might be true of ten individual bloggers. So each item here will pertain to a different blogger. Or something like that. Here goes.

1. Lynn Sislo owns a pair of pet parakeets, one of which she named "Stabat" and the other she named "Mater".

2. Before he met Krissy, the love of John Scalzi's life was a girlfriend he had in junior-high school who was named "Athena". He's spent years trying to keep Krissy from finding this out, lest she react with rage at the source of their daughter's name....

3. Jostein has memorized the dialogue of the entire episode of Seinfeld when Elaine dated an avowed Communist. "He can do whatever he wants, Jerry! He controls the means of production!"

[HOLY CRAP! Transcripts of every Seinfeld episode, here! Wow-za!]

4. Drew Vogel's real source of anger at George Lucas is his unvoiced suspicion that R2-D2 is actually based on the Daleks.

5. PZ Myers, realizing one night that his Oxford-cloth shirt and chinos wardrobe wasn't conducive to the Deliverance lifestyle he'd been praying for, decided instead to corrupt them by teaching them about Charles Darwin, and thus found his true calling.

6. Thomas Barnett is really just some guy who sits at the end of the bar that Sean visits every day after work for a few beers before going home to the twins.

7. Kevin Drum secretly blames some unnamed female blogger for the rejection of his application for Survivor a few years back, and that's why he never links women.

8. Darth Swank began to suspect he had found the love of his life when, while on a date with his future wife at the Red Lobster, she looked down at her plate and exclaimed in dismay, "Hey! This place cooks the fish!" Later, when she whispered "Oh, Swank-i-san" in his ear while on a moonlight stroll in downtown Indianapolis, he knew he'd found her.

9. Andrew Cory sometimes wakes up in cold sweat after having scary dreams about working in a bookstore when the final volumes of the Harry Potter, Wheel of Time, and Song of Ice and Fire series are all released on the same day.

10. The Unsinkable Mr. Jones still hasn't realized why the women of Washington, DC don't find his pick-up line, "Hey, wanna see my Kevin Spacey DVD collection?", particularly enticing.

EDIT: A couple of broken links are now fixed. Oops.

Little House by the Shores of Lake Erie

As I reported yesterday, we did in fact watch the first installment of the new Little House on the Prairie miniseries, and we liked it quite a bit. It wasn't at all like the original NBC series, as we expected, but it would have helped get the old show out of our heads if the folks making the new show hadn't cast as Laura a girl who looks about as close to Melissa Gilbert as you can get. I also couldn't help but notice that Erin Cottrell, the woman playing Caroline Ingalls, is absolutely beautiful. I very much doubt that the real Caroline Ingalls underwent the journey from Wisconsin to Kansas to build a new home with her gorgeous, lucious sand-colored hair flying free in the breeze, but you know what? I'm fine with it. Anyway, the new show's about as good as your basic decent family made-for-TV movie -- it's not Battlestar Galactica good, but we found it enjoyable.

Anyway, I was surprised that today's Buffalo News didn't take advantage of the airing of the new Little House to point out the Western New York connection to the books: Charles Ingalls ("Pa", for you laggards who aren't up on your Ingalls-Wilder) was born in Cuba, NY. This is a very small town in Allegany County, about seventy-five miles southeast of Buffalo. While it is no longer known just where Charles Ingalls lived during the six years or so that he lived with his family in Cuba, there are still descendents of his family living in the area. That's pretty cool.

Cuba, NY is now known not for being Charles Ingalls's birthplace but for cheese. And it's damned good cheese, too.

(BTW, Laura Ingalls Wilder isn't Western New York's only connection to Americana literature. Mark Twain lived here for a time, too.)

Can Congress investigate THIS, instead of baseball and sterioids?

There's a thread over on the FilmScoreMonthly message boards right now that's partly annoying and partly amusing.

It focuses on the music for the new film Miss Congeniality 2. Now, a standard procedure in film making is to use what's called a "temp track". What the filmmakers do is, before the time to actually score the film arrives, they assemble a "score" of sorts from various sources: cues from older films, bits of classical music, classic rock tunes or pop standards, whatever. This temporary soundtrack -- "temp track" -- is used by the film's composer to get an idea of what the producers are looking for in terms of where they want music to occur.

However, in more recent years, the "temp track" has become a lot more important: it's not just a case of "Here's where we want some music", but "This is what we want the music to sound like at this spot". And since pre-existing film music is often used for temp-tracks, this is a big reason for the general homogenization of the film music sound over the last ten or fifteen years.

So what's the problem with Miss Congeniality 2? As the initial post in the FSM thread reveals, much of the film's temp track actually ended up being used in the finished film, so that during the end credits, those cues from earlier films are actually listed along with the song credits for songs used in the film. (The poster over on FSM provides details.) So the creative folks behind Miss Congeniality 2 (yeah, I know, there's a contradiction-in-terms) have basically dispensed almost entirely with the use of new music. Talk about laziness.

And yet -- it strikes me as funny, in a way, that in a world where a film like Miss Congeniality 2 even gets made, film music fans really get their dander up about the music. Wow. But then, we're talking about a segment of fandom where it's not uncommon to hear that a spectacularly bad movie like The Final Conflict is actually a good movie because Jerry Goldsmith wrote the music.

There's no party that man won't poop.

After I completed my entry for this list-meme about books, I saw that ACD took time to pontificate at length against the mere idea of "desert island" lists. I find that ironic, since I've often thought that if I could banish a single blogger to a desert island, ACD would be the one! And he'd have nothing at all with him, having long since dismissed the very idea of such a list. Why, it would almost be like that Twilight Zone installment where some guy is locked forever in a library -- and then he breaks his glasses. Heh!

Actually, all kidding aside, I meant to link this ACD post a while back, and I forgot about it -- it's a very carefully detailed algorithm that, executed with proper input, will result in the creation of a (we are told) ideal bagel-and-smoked-salmon sandwich. I haven't made one of these yet, although I most definitely plan to (omitting, sadly, the tissue-thin slices of red onion, on the basis that I don't like red onion very much, and the cigarette at the end because I reject the notion that smoking enhances much of anything at all). What caught my eye in ACD's formula for a bagel-and-lox sandwich, actually, is this bit of instruction on the placement of the salmon on the sandwich:

Plop the lox onto the onion. Do not lay down the lox in flat slices. Plopped lox contains lots of air spaces among the folds which work wonderfully to intensify the flavor of the lox. (To get an idea of what plopped lox looks like, pick up a slice of temperature-correct lox, and hold between your thumb and first two fingers. Raise the lox slice about a foot above the cutting board, and let the lox drop. What you see on the cutting board is properly plopped lox.)


For those of you who regularly make sandwiches for consumption in your brown-bag lunches, take careful note of this advice, for it doesn't merely apply to smoked salmon on a bagel. If you make a simple ham-on-rye sandwich (with good deli ham -- there's nothing, frankly, that would save an Oscar Mayer ham sandwich) and your usual procedure is to simply stack, say, three slices of ham flat on the bread, you'll be astonished at the improvement of flavor a light folding and shingling of the ham slices will yield on your sandwich, with nothing more than the same ingredients. And if you do the same with your thinly-sliced cheese, and alternate the cheese slices with the ham, so the air pockets within the sandwich fill with the aromas of the cheese and the ham -- whoa!

(This procedure, also, reveals why you want your cold cuts to be on the thinly sliced side -- not so thin that you can't even separate the mass of meat into coherent slices, but no so thick that the folds provide a telescope-like view through to the other side of the sandwich. You want closure here, within the sandwich.)

These are the tiny cooking details that are often omitted in cookbooks, and why I miss watching cooking shows on the Food Network.

Is this what being "Undead" really looks like?

Thinking over the whole Terri Schiavo situation recently, I can't help but think that what we have here is a case of people and events falling through the cracks of morality. Dead versus alive, moral versus immoral, faithful versus adulterous -- those are all binary states, and yet, none of them seems to apply to anyone in the whole case. I wonder if that's not the root of so much discord in human affairs: our need to assign everything to one side of a binary state when it might not even be possible to do so.

:: Is Terri Schiavo alive? In one very real sense, she is: her body still draws breath, her heart still beats, et cetera. But there's another very real sense in which she is as dead as Paul Revere. The person is gone. The dreams and aspirations, the loves and fears, the highs and lows, that all combined to make Terri Schiavo the person she was are gone, and they're not coming back, short of what would be the most astonishing medical miracle in human history. Is that what matters when we speak of life and death? On the one hand, it doesn't seem so, because we can't just bury Terri Schiavo while the body still draws breath and the heart still beats.

This stuff really reminds me of some of the abstract issues we used to discuss in philosophy classes, and I guess if nothing else the whole Schiavo affair reveals that yes, we do actually use philosophy once in a while in real life. What, exactly, is a person? What is it that makes a being uniquely human? And ultimately, is there any sense of the word "human", beyond simple biological nomenclature, for which Terri Schiavo now qualifies?

This kind of thing also makes me wonder about the nature of the soul. For those who believe in souls (and I'm genuinely not sure into which camp I fall on that score), does Terri Schiavo's soul still reside in that husk of a body that's been reduced to functioning only by dint of the reflexive functions of what little brain tissue remains? or did her soul vacate her body when the persistent vegitative state began? If the former, then it seems to me to be unnecessary torment of a soul to insist that it remain shackled to this earthly realm; if the latter, then all the arguments boil down to what to do with a body that only still lives because it doesn't know enough not to.

Which, of course, leads to the question of abortion. I really see little parallel between Ms. Schiavo's plight and abortion, because the moral question of a fetus has another factor going for it: potentiality. Even if one denies that life begins at conception (a premise to which I've never subscribed), one must still admit that a fetus has the potential to grow into a person. My understanding is that Terri Schiavo has no such potential (again, barring the greatest medical miracle in human history).

So it seems to me that the case of Terri Schiavo pits people who define life by the beating heart versus people who define human life by the more elusive thing called the person, and the problem is that Terri Schiavo is dead in one sense, but not in the other.

:: I've also noticed that many consider Michael Schiavo to be an adulterer, because since Terri has entered her permanent vegitative state, he has taken the company of another woman and had two children with her. I personally do not (and without going into details, I have some personal experience in my extended family with relationships of this sort) -- or, rather, I consider the mere legal matter on whether he has committed adultery to be pretty uninteresting. I refuse to stand in moral judgement of a man who saw his first wife fall to such a fate and who refused to put all aspects of his life on hold until her physical body caught up with where her "personhood" had gone. That's not to say that I agree with the choices Michael Schiavo has made, because he's made some choices that I find distasteful. But then, so have Terri's parents, and the whole situation is one of spectacular horror. I frankly can't imagine a more nightmarish scenario to have to undergo than the one in which Michael Schiavo and the Schindlers are involved, and I honestly can't pretend that my own moral choices in that situation would be any better than theirs.

Ultimately, this whole situation is a no-win scenario in every sense of the word. There is no victory to be had here, by anyone. I find it sad that so many people are behaving as though there is. No matter which way this thing plays out, the end result is the same: Terri Schiavo is dead. Everything else is just details and trying to force human messiness into a handy set of binary states.

Saturday, March 26, 2005

Is the ride sponsored by "Depends"?

Here's a series of photos of the newest terrifying attraction at the Cedar Point amusement park in Sandusky, Ohio. I love Cedar Point, but I'll probably be opting out of this one next time we're there.

The last photo in the series makes clear why. (NOT SAFE FOR WORK, and a little icky!)

The "You Don't Say!" Department

I see that there's a new TV-movie version of Little House on the Prairie debuting on ABC tonight, and yes, we do plan to watch, since The Wife and I both grew up on the books (on which the new version is said to be more faithful), and we both enjoyed the long-running NBC TV-series (with which the new version is said to have little similarity). I was doing a bit of Googling for reviews of the new version, and I found this article, bearing what must be the dopiest headline of all time:

New 'Little House' returns to the prairie without Landon

Well, I'm certainly glad they managed to make that clear. I was wondering if Michael Landon would be in the newly-filmed Little House, despite the fact that the guy's been dead for sixteen years or so. Yeesh. So yeah, I know that Landon's not going to be there. And I'm fine with it. I just hope they found a bit part for Victor French.

BTW, while I enjoyed the original TV series, I'm looking forward to a version more faithful to the books, where there's no adopted brother named Albert; where Mr. Edwards doesn't come along and marry the town widow and adopt three kids; where Mary doesn't marry a blind guy who gets his sight back and then loses her baby to a gruesome fire (that scene, with Alice Garvey shrieking from the second-floor window of the School for the Blind as she cradles the baby in her arms and the flames engulf her, is one of the more gruesome things I've ever seen in a family-oriented network TV show); where Charles and Caroline don't lose an infant son and Half-Pint, thinking that she caused the little baby's death, runs away and goes on top of the area's highest mountain so she can be closer to God and find a mysterious and kindly guy up there who looks a lot like Ernest Borgnine who gives her the spiritual lesson of a lifetime; where the townsfolk of Walnut Grove band together in the face of corporate America (such as it existed back in 1876 or whenever) and dynamite every building in their town rather then see it swiped by the local railroad or coal mine or whatever.

(Yes, I know that Victor French is dead, too.)

(And hey, was anybody else excited to recognize the guy who played the Tom Hanks character as an old man in The Green Mile as Dabs Greer, who played Reverend Alden on the original NBC incarnation of Little House? That was a nice bit of casting.)

When your region runs out of water, don't come crying to us!

Alan of BuffaloPundit fame links this Buffalo News article in which several former residents of the Buffalo region sadly shake their heads about how bad things have become in their old stompin' grounds. In general I don't blame older people who simply get tired of cold weather and move to warmer climes, I do find a bit of annoyance in a person who is all of sixty years old saying, "There's so much that could be done. If I wasn't so old...." Sixty ain't old, folks -- unless maybe you've been a four-pack-a-day smoker since you were twelve.

Generally, though, Alan has little patience for such stuff:

Come back and help, or leave. But don't lecture us from the palm trees and warmer strip malls.


I whole-heartedly agree. I'm willing, as I note above, to give elderly persons a pass on wanting to move to someplace warmer, but I get really annoyed when people right around my age -- or even younger -- say things like "I'm just waiting until I can afford to move to [insert locale south of Maryland here]", whether it's because of the economy or the snow or the wind or that Southern teams win Super Bowls or whatever.

And the last person quote in the News article just makes me want to throw up:

In sharp contrast to those who no longer live here but still believe their heart resides in Buffalo, there are other Western New Yorkers who live in the county but now can't wait to cut ties.

Kevin O'Brien, 25, grew up in Blasdell, got his bachelor's degree in Buffalo, married and bought a house in Cheektowaga a year ago.

There's a "For Sale" sign on it now.

Though both he and his wife are college educated and had planned to raise their children here, they said the county's botched budget was the last straw. As soon as their house is sold, they're moving to Arizona.

O'Brien, who has a communications degree in broadcast, said he was set to work for the Empire Sports Network before it went under. And his wife, a Social Services worker for the county, has been threatened with layoffs three times since November.

Trying to build a life in Western New York has simply gotten too difficult and too embarrassing for them, O'Brien said.

He and his wife hope to be gone by June. And unlike other expatriates from this region, O'Brien said he's never looking back.

"Sometimes you have to cut the rope," he said. "We're done."


I have a strong feeling that this guy was never long for this area anyway -- he'd have been looking for that better offer forever, and as soon as ESPN or whomever came knocking on his door, this guy was going to leave anyway. Quite frankly, people like that aren't of much help while they are here, and I'm not really all that worried about losing them. There are signs that things might start to turn around a bit here, and there's a lot of impetus shaping up; the constant sense of "Geez, what now!" is giving way to a setting of the jaw, a rolling up of the sleeves, and -- it's hard to see, by God, but it's there -- some good old-fashioned optimism. People like Mr. O'Brien, even they stay here, simply aren't a part of that. What Buffalo needs is people who want to be in Buffalo, to work in Buffalo, to invest in Buffalo, and to tell the world what's great about Buffalo. People who are just going to gravitate toward the biggest possible paycheck can be found anywhere. People like that are a dime a dozen.

So have fun in Arizona and Florida and Texas and Georgia and wherever else. When the economy in your chosen Land of Sun, Milk and Honey starts to turn sour -- and you'd better believe it will, because it always does, sooner or later -- make sure that when you look back up here at envy because things are going well again, you're at least honest enough to realize that you could have been a part of it.

"I want that ship, not excuses!"

When I gave my answers to a Star Wars survey a short while ago, I noted that while I've never owned more than a handful of Star Wars toys (and none that I've left mint-in-the-box, because in some areas of life I'm still an overgrown nine-year-old at heart and Star Wars is one of 'em), I've always wanted a die-cast Millennium Falcon. I thought nothing more of it until I saw that the Tensor had also answered the Star Wars survey, and that he also liked the idea of a die-cast Millennium Falcon -- although the one that he dug up online seems to carry a pretty steep price tag. Given the choice between, say, an iPod or a new stereo and a Star Wars toy, I'm probably gonna go with the new tech toy.

But then I said to myself, "Self! What if there was an online bazaar of sorts where someone might be selling a die-cast Millennium Falcon for slightly less than the one linked above!" And I further thought to myself, "Self! There is indeed such a bazaar!" So it was off to eBay with me, where I quickly honed in on my quarry, and a mere ten bucks later (including shipping), a long-gaping hole in my tiny Star Wars toy collection was filled:


Ha! It's mine! Now I shall be able to spend hours re-enacting my favorite action sequences from the original trilogy, as well as playing through some of the space chases and battles from Saga of a Star World, the epic bit of Star Wars fan-fiction I created in my youth. (No, don't ask. And yes, I did filch the title from the pilot episode of the original Battlestar Galactica series. Back in those days, I filched everything.)

However, I do have to note that the photo above doesn't convey quite correctly the scale of the item in question. I mean, doesn't the ship above just look massive? As though it should be hung from the ceiling that it might command the attention of all who enter my domicile?

Alas, the reality is not quite that way:


No, I'm not disappointed -- I'm quite happy with my little Millennium Falcon, and I knew exactly what I was getting (it was made under the MicroMachines toy imprint, which tells you something). This will sit alongside my MicroMachines X-Wing fighter, my Phantom Menace Queen's Cruiser, my Droid Starfighter, and my Trade Federation Battle Ship. Who knows, maybe I'll arrange them in a circle around my little three-inch Yoda figurine. Of course, that would look pretty weird -- Yoda dwarfing a set of starships -- but I figure it's time Yoda got a chance to dwarf something, eh?

Thursday, March 24, 2005

Enter a Star Destroyer from the top of the frame....

It turns out that my discomfort with stealing the government's bandwidth was short lived. I like this picture, and I'm hotlinking it. Oooooh, rebellion!



Details here.

Classical Music in the Digital Music Age

I've been worrying for quite a while about the effect that the "digitalization" of music, from music storage to music distribution, is going to have on classical music -- here's a representative post of mine on that topic from almost a year ago. Now, via Lynn Sislo, I see that my fears were not misplaced.

Wednesday, March 23, 2005

Movin' Along....

This is one of those "Not much to say today" posts, because, er...I don't have much to say today, and I want to do a bit of writing. You know, a story or something. So this will have to do for today. (And by the way, there may be no new content here at all tomorrow, since I have plans for tomorrow evening. Oh yes. I have plans.)

:: Today's prose-tale from The Store:

The old man had poor eyesight, a weak grip, an unsteady gait, and he was armed with a shopping cart. The stand-alone display of olive oil in glass bottles never had a chance.


:: My undying enmity for the New England Stupid Patriots aside, I wouldn't wish a stroke on anybody, especially a possibly career-threatening stroke. Not even Tedy Bruschi. I hope he recovers and plays again. I really do. I even hope he plays for another ten years. (Yeah, I also hope that each one of those ten years sees the StuPats post a 2-14 record, but still -- strokes are very uncool.)

:: I didn't forget the Image of the Week last week; I just didn't find anything I really wanted to use, and I didn't just want to go help myself to Uncle Sam's bandwidth (even though I generally feel no compunctions in doing that. Heck, I'll probably do that tomorrow, if I post anything at all). But here is an image that would have taken the prize. That's really nifty. It's the type of image that I might have used had I stuck to my plan to rotate through Victorian-era pictures of women for the masthead on this blog this year, as opposed to deciding that I just can't bring myself yet to remove the luminous read-haired beauty up there right now. It's those eyes of hers -- I actually get lost in them.

(Has anyone ever gotten lost in the eyes of someone in a painting before? Am I just weird that way?)

:: Harry Potter and the Prisoner of Azkaban is a really good movie. It's easily the best one so far, which is a bit of a pity as its director has already left the series. I love some of the camera work, which echoes the Lord of the Rings films as we move in from very long distances to tight shots on characters. And it's always fun to study the machinations of a J.K. Rowling plot. There are so many details that you don't pick up on until the Nth viewing -- such as the boggart taking the form of a full moon for Professor Lupin. Good movie. (And John Williams's best Harry Potter score yet.)

:: By way of a housekeeping notice: I'll be taking a hiatus at the end of April, probably for a week. I haven't had an official hiatus since the one in August that preceded the arrival of Little Quinn.

:: Read Chapter Six of The Promised King. And if you have a blog, link it. Do it or the bunny dies.

(Not really. There is no bunny. It's a hamster. It's two hamsters. And a kitten.)

Tuesday, March 22, 2005

No Vince Lombardi Trophy, no Stanley Cup, no Top-100 Skyline....

Via MeFi I see this ranking of the world's top 100 skylines, on which Buffalo does not appear. All I can say is, Damn you, Tulsa (the last American city on the list, at #99).

Sunday Burst of Weirdness (The "Oops, I forgot" edition)

I completely forgot to do a Burst of Weirdness this week. I mean, I just plain didn't think to do it.

So it's a good thing that Kevin Drum linked this collection of photos of George W. Bush rubbing the heads of bald men. And in the comments to that post, I found this even more extensive collection of such photos. This is just funny and disturbing on so many levels.

(This isn't a political statement, by the way. Longtime readers will know that I enjoy pictures of Presidents doing odd stuff. Say...that might be a fun idea...an entire book of Presidential weirdness. I mean, we've elected some weird guys to that office.)

Five Questions, take two

Andrew Cory sent me these in e-mail, and I answer them here. Behold!

1) What genera of fiction makes you all gooey-week in the knees? Which example of that genre do you think exemplifies the highest qualities of that genre? Which is of so low quality that you're embarrassed to admit you like it, and wouldn't have liked anything of similar quality in another genre?

In recent years, I've become less of a "genre" reader -- there are genres I like a lot, but none that completely captivate me, as genres-in-themselves. Likewise, I'm not against any genre; I'm more a "good book" kind of reader. A good book in any genre is more likely to thrill me than a mediocre book in a preferred genre, if that makes sense.

That said, my SF reading tastes gravitate toward big-scale space operas -- the more planets and spectacular battles and clashes with good and evil, the better. I tend to not like Military SF as much, but I did like the first two Honor Harrington novels (by David Webber) quite a bit (even if his constant infodumps are really annoying, and I hear they get even worse as the series goes on).

2) Heinlein's multiverse theory turns out to be correct. Two warring factions grab the best Admirals in all of fiction and make them face each other in an intergalactic, interdimensional war of annihilation. One side grabs Ender (from Orson Scott Card's Ender's Game and sequels), the other gets Grand Admiral Thrawn (from Timothy Zahn's post-Return of the Jedi Star Wars novels). Who wins?

I haven't read Ender's Game, so I'm going to have to stick another Admiral in there. And the one that leaps to mind is one whose career as an Admiral was notable but short: Admiral James Tiberius Kirk.

To put it bluntly: Kirk would defeat Thrawn, but only after something of a pitched battle. I'm not sure exactly how he'd win, but at some point he'd make a grand speech about humanity, and at some point he'd talk Thrawn's servant droid into self-destruction by using a logical contradiction to confuse it to death.

3) Who is buried in Grant's Tomb: Why is this a trick question? What is the answer to the real question?

Well, by strict definition, no one is "buried" in Grant's Tomb, since the former President and his wife are entombed in above-ground sarcophagi. (BTW, if memory serves, this question was on one of the original Trivial Pursuit cards, with the answer reading, "Ulysses S. Grant and his wife". When people answer "Grant" but omit the wife, they get the question wrong. Suckers!)

4) What's the worst movie you've ever seen?

Geez, that's a toughie. There's the awful Beaches, which everybody swore would have me in tears by the end -- and yet, there I was at the end, glaring in anger at the screen because I was supposed to be moved to tears when some woman dies after she's spent the entire movie treating her supposed "best friend" like dirt (and vice versa). Nauseating crap.

And then there's The Usual Suspects, which annoyed me because it wasted what could have been a fascinating drama about some interesting low-lifes on the dumb "Who is Keyser Soze?" mystery, the solution of which I spotted within two minutes of the first mention of the name "Keyser Soze".

I could also mention Aliens, which I found boring as every single event that was heavily foreshadowed in the first half unfolded like clockwork in the second half.

And there's the supremely stupid Scream, which couldn't make up its mind if it was a straight teen horror movie (a genre I genuinely hate, by the way) or a parody of a teen horror movie, and didn't do either well at all.

But I guess the prize has to go with Highlander, which may be the single dumbest instantiation of fantasy I've ever seen. God, that is a bad movie, with a colossally stupid premise that wastes not one but two of my favorite actors (Sean Connery and Clancy Brown). Pure crap. Ugh!

5) Humanity is doomed. We've all contacted some horrible, horrible disease. What's worse is that it attacks scientists and medical people first, so there won't be a plucky young heroine teaming up with a beautiful young man to save us all from certain doom. No matter how amusing the antics of a certain ex-president-turned sidekick, the doom is, in fact, certain...You're at the end of the world party, and Kofi Annan reveals to you that he is in real-time communication with aliens. The aliens can use their teleportation technology to fit just one piece of artwork, and a drunken Secretary General asks you to pick the art. To make sure that no one else contract the Human Virus, the Earth's Star (Sol) will be destroyed, taking Earth with it. Whatever piece of art you choose will be _everything_ that remains of humanity. What do you choose and why?

Since we're not quibbling for size, I'd save the Sistine Chapel. (Since this is happening present-day, I assume that the Voyager Record is still intact, somewhere in interstellar space. So at least something of our music will survive.

Yet More Quizzes and Stuff

I was named by PZ Myers as a recipient of a book-meme that's whipping its way around Blogistan, and I am naturally honor-bound to answer its queries. Here goes:

(Wait a minute! Dr. Myers complains that I haven't even noticed this thing yet in an update to his post. I did too notice -- a link from him invariably causes a spike in my traffic, so welcome aboard, Pharyngula readers! -- but with my work day starting at 7:30 a.m., not ending until 3:00 p.m., and then the next two to three hours being filled with things like getting The Daughter off the bus, going to pick up Little Quinn from the sitter, returning home, opening the mail, checking e-mail, reading a few blogs, and doing Little Quinn's 5:00 p.m. feeding, I don't get around to generating new content here until at least 6:00 p.m. on the days when The Wife and I both work. I'm not one of those lucky college profs, who hold the best part-time jobs in America! (I stole that last quip from an actual, tenured college prof of my own. The same guy also quipped that in January, we have a holiday for a great civil rights leader; in February, we honor the Presidents of the United States; in March, we honor one of the great heroes of Irish history; and on April 1, we honor college administrators. That prof was an equal-opportunity offender.)

OK, where was I? Oh, yeah -- the book-meme. Here goes:

You're stuck inside Fahrenheit 451, which book do you want to be?

Well, assuming that I would be stuck inside Fahrenheit 451 in my current state of knowledge, I could call it a day with the screenplays to the five extant Star Wars movies. But keeping to the spirit of the game, I'm not sure. This is basically picking one book that I think needs to survive into the ages, so I'd commit T.H. White's The Once and Future King to memory.

Have you ever had a crush on a fictional character?

Well, I come pretty close with Wonder Woman, don't I? But no, not really. However, I have had the experience -- several times -- of encountering people in real life who look almost exactly the way I have envisioned a character in The Promised King or in one of my stories. I haven't formed a crush per se, but I've definitely stared a bit, enough so as to suddenly become uncomfortable when I realize what I'm doing. I've often wondered whether, if I'm caught staring, my real explanation would sound like a lame pick-up line.

The last book you bought is:

The NPR Curious Listener's Guide to Celtic Music, by Fiona Ritchie.

The last book you read:

Ditto. (I'll write more about that book sometime in the future, but suffice it to say that it's a really good book for anyone with a beginning interest in Celtic music.)

What are you currently reading?

Oh, crap -- this reminds me that I haven't updated that part of the sidebar in, like, forever. I'll try to do that later, but right now I'm reading Evenings with the Orchestra by Berlioz, The NPR Curious Listener's Guide to the Popular Standards (whose author escapes me at the moment), and Deathstalker by Simon R. Green.

Five books you would take to a deserted island:

Ah, that old chestnut. How much variety, quality, and sheer volume can I pack into a mere five works? (Of course, I cheat a bit by citing complete works, even if they require multiple volumes. Heh, heh, heh.

The Complete Works of Shakespeare
The Lord of the Rings by Tolkien
Cosmos by Carl Sagan
The Oxford Book of English Poetry
The Decline and Fall of the Roman Empire by Gibbon (Never read it, and it's in three volumes)

Who are you going to pass this stick to (3 persons)? And Why?

Well, with this thing cruising around Blogistan fairly quickly, I have to pick people who basically haven't done it yet. So on that basis, I turn it over to Darth Swank and to Morat at Skeptical Notion. I also bop it over to Jason Streed, in hopes that it will give him something to post about (it's been a month!). And since I almost always disregard constraints on answering blog quizzes, I'm going to kick this to a fourth person: Patrick of Fantasy Hotlist.

And though I'm not officially passing this quiz onto them, I wouldn't complain if Sarah, Drew, or Nefarious Neddie answered it. Heh.

Monday, March 21, 2005

Crap. Someone handed me a ten-foot pole.

I was trying not to say a thing about the whole Terry Schiavo affair, because I find the entire thing so bizarrely surreal that I can barely decide what to say about it. But I followed Bella's lead to this post by Holly Lisle -- who once speculated on a former version of her blog that the whole issue descends from a botched attempted murder by Michael Schiavo -- where Ms. Lisle insists that since Terry Schiavo never put her wishes in writing, the current case in its entirety should never have existed at all:

Schiavo's case should never have been a case. Lacking any sort of documentation stating that she wanted to be permitted to die, every effort should have been made to save her life and return her to her highest level of function. Everything -- EVERYTHING -- has been done wrong because of her husband's talent for publicizing the aspects of the case that he wanted publicized. In the end, however, this is, in fact, a no-brainer. No documentation = presumption that she wanted to live, and follow-on treatment to make that possible.


Strange that successions of Florida state judges have managed to completely miss this bit of obvious legality. Or, maybe it's not so strange after all, because Ms. Lisle is stone, cold wrong, as Dahlia Lithwick once explained:

One needn't take a position on the right-to-life/right-to-die controversy to be appalled by the events in Florida. Whether one believes that Terri Schiavo is in a "persistent vegetative state" or a "minimally conscious state" is immaterial. Whether one believes that her blinks and smiles are signs of cognition or automated reflexes is similarly not the issue. All that matters is that these disputes are governed by law, that the law says Michael Schiavo is her legal guardian, and that his decision ought to have been final.


For the actual legal background of the case -- i.e., not Ms. Lisle's legal opinion based on what somebody in nursing school said one day -- read Ms. Lithwick's entire article. The Schiavo case did not arise in a legal void, and the various judges involved did not make it up as they went along. As judges do, they followed established legal precedent, and that precedent is this: In the absence of Ms. Lisle's written documentation, decision-making power is handed to a court-appointed legal guardian, who is almost always the spouse.

As long as I'm commenting on this whole affair, I note that Ms. Lisle accuses Michael Schiavo of basically being a publicity-hound. I suppose that Mr. Schiavo may just be that, but I note that he's not the one who has the Majority Leader of the United States Senate making medical diagnoses from watching a videotape. Say what you will about Michael Schiavo, he hasn't managed to get high-profile Republicans to make medical diagnoses on his behalf outside their medical specialty without ever seeing the patient in person. And I note that for a case where Ms. Lisle maintains that Mr. Schiavo is the publicity hound, the photograph that accompanies every single story I've seen or watched on TV about this case is the one where Terry Schiavo is "smiling" to her mother. If Mr. Schiavo is the publicity genius, he's not doing too well at it.

How do they look on the radio?

Sean e-mailed me this link to people who look great on HDTV, and people who...don't.

Britney makes one of the two lists. Guess which one...heh!

Quizzes...I got yer quizzes here....

Terry Teachout has a neat-looking quiz, and as my regular readers know, my knees turn to jelly in the presence of a quiz. (At The Store, they won't let me go anywhere near the shelves where the issues of Cosmopolitan are kept.) Here's the quiz, with Mr. Teachout's answers removed and mine substituted. Because, well, reproducing his answers would be kind of dumb.

(Since this quiz seems to require a high degree of self-knowledge, I'm going to call it "The Self-Delusion Quiz".)

What is your most marked characteristic? Warmth, I hope. I aspire to chivalry.

What is the quality you most like in a man? The ability to not be willingly obtuse.

What is the quality you most like in a woman? A willingness to laugh, and a smile to match.

What do you most value in your friends? The fact that they accept my own absurdities often with little comment.

What is the trait you most deplore in yourself? Laziness.

What is your favorite occupation? Does this have to come up in every quiz these days? Writing. Maybe I'll learn to do it someday.

What is your idea of perfect happiness? I don't know, really, but I know that it needs to be shared.

What do you regard as the lowest depth of misery? Loneliness.

In which country would you like to live? This one, right now. While I'd love to experience New York City in the 1950s -- Broadway at its height, Leonard Bernstein on the podium at the NYPO -- there's too much stuff I'd have to give up to go back there. I'm not trading DVDs to have the 50s.

Who are your favorite writers? Tolkien, Guy Gavriel Kay, Steinbeck, Shakespeare, Barbara Tuchman, Edward Gorey, Harold Schonberg, Carl Sagan, Stephen King

Who are your favorite poets? Shakespeare, Tennyson, Whitman, Robert Burns, Poe, Alan Jay Lerner, Ira Gershwin, Cole Porter (What, I can't consider lyricists to be poets? Well, it's my blog, and I'm doing it.)

Who is your favorite hero of fiction? Tom Joad in The Grapes of Wrath.

Who is your favorite heroine of fiction? Jehane bet Ishak in The Lions of Al-Rassan.

Who are your favorite composers? Mozart, Berlioz, Rachmaninov, Copland, Wagner, Brahms, Beethoven, Turlough O'Carolan, George Gershwin, Frederick Loewe, Percy Grainger, Ralph Vaughan Williams, Duke Ellington, John Williams, Erich Wolfgang Korngold, Miklos Rozsa (or Rosza -- I cannot imprint the correct spelling of his name upon my brain), Howard Shore. (The question doesn't specify genre of music, so I see no reason to do so, either.)

Who are your favorite painters? John Constable, Arthur Hughes, Alan Lee, Tad Naismith, Adolph Schaller, Jon Lomberg. (I don't know many painters.)

What are your favorite names? Katherine, John, Paula, Jennifer, Maria, Eliza, Luke, Matthew -- heck, pretty much any Biblical name. There are some amazing names in that book. (Except "Obadiah" -- I never liked that one. Or "Job".)

What is it that you most dislike? Broccoli. Highlander (the movie). Britney. Ravel's Bolero. The New England Stupid Patriots. People who live in Buffalo but bitch about how much they hate living in Buffalo. People who never seem to have any inkling that maybe, just maybe, their religion isn't quite right in all the particulars. People who look down on what I read, what I listen to, what I write. I dislike all of those things.

Which talent would you most like to have? I'd like to be able to dance a bit -- especially those wonderful Irish step-dances. I could probably learn some of that stuff, if I took the time and expended the effort.

How would you like to die? Painlessly, after a long and full life. (Or not at all, until I'm throroughly sick of everything.)

What is your current state of mind? I could go for a bit of pizza. Or, less specifically, I vacillate between a sense of high optimism and a certainty of unrelenting doom.

What is your motto? "Here's a health to one and all, to the big and to the small; to the rich and poor alike, and foe and friend! And when I come back again, may my foes have turned to friends, and may peace and joy be with you until then!" (Alternatively, my motto is "I'll most likely kill you in the morning.")

Sunday, March 20, 2005

Readeth thou Chapter Six....

...and the number of the Chapter thou shalt readeth shall be Six.

Yup, it's been two weeks, and it's time to catch up on what's been going on for Our Heroine and her merry band of tag-alongs. So bop on over to The Promised King and read Chapter Six of the novel, in which some stuff happens. You'll laugh, you'll cry, you'll never look at life the same way again.

Remember: Chapter Six is up. Get thee hence, laggard! (I mean, really -- what are you doing reading this paragraph anyway, when the preceding paragraph says it all? Yeesh!)